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scoutswritingcorner · 1 month

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The Monster That Lurked

Alastor x GN!Reader

A/N:Hey hey! I'm in a really angsty mood and decided to write a full fledged fic about my own work of ‘Monster In The Woods’!!! YAY!!! ALSO A FRIENDS TO LOVERS DEAL- SUE ME. Also you can picture Human Alastor or Alastor anyway you want cause I don’t really describe him much except for what he is wearing and I picture Alastor a certain way in my head. This got long I apologize.

TW: Set in the 1920-30’s, Human Alastor and his murders. Pre-established relationships, cheating, Alastor “stealing” you away from your husband.Alastor and Reader have known each other for a long time already. Reader is also some sort of fucked up, in like the murder way. Talks about cheating, fighting, Gore, Christianity and religion in general. MURDER VERY MUCH MURDER

Word Count: 7k

1927, the days filled with laughter and partying whilst listening to jazz standing with your husband..well you were waiting outside a sleazy bar for your husband, the same drunkard that your father had married you off to. He wasn’t your first choice neither was he your last choice. You would’ve been fine not marrying anybody and just living your life hidden from prying eyes, you would rather be somewhere in the Louisiana bayou with Alastor. Just sitting and listening to him ramble on about a new show he was talking about or how some poor lad got on his bad side.

But yet you were standing on the sidewalk in front of a sleazy bar with even sleazier patrons as you stared at your husband through one of the windows as he hit on the same poor dame that served him. He cheated all the time and yet you never cared, was it because you never truly loved him or was it the fact you’d rather picture his own death while he begged god for his sins. You couldn’t tell anymore and a part of you didn’t want to know anymore. The other part of you wanted to delve deeper into your own thoughts, wanted to open the door that was locked and barricaded for your own good. You wanted to understand what it felt like to rip flesh from bone and see how long it would take for him to lose consciousness from the blood loss.

A loud honk from a passing car made you jump out of your skin and look around, feeling the small box in your pocket, it was supposed to be for your husband but he didn’t deserve it, he would’ve just sold it eagerly for some kind of money to waste his life away. That’s fine you knew a man who would appreciate it more than him anyway. The same man whose voice was happily broadcasted on every radio for miles around, you could practically hear his smile through the radio static and fuzz. Your heartbeat a little faster than it should’ve just thinking about him, he was your friend and that was it. Friends don’t have crushes on friends. This was just a way to spoil him for being a good friend of yours. Right?

You couldn’t bother him right now, you knew better so you did what you always did. Went back home and made yourself busy until he eventually made his way over to your house. He was always quick enough to get to your house before your drunken husband did but stayed around long enough (i.e in the early hours of the morning) so you wouldn’t have to deal with anything unnecessary and you eventually went to bed. Then he would’ve disappeared for a few days but he came back around. You didn’t question him or his ways, you knew better. A part of you did want to question his motives but you held your tongue like you always did.

Your husband wasn’t a necessarily violent man..just dumb and constantly drinking, said some nasty words too. If it wasn’t for you, Alastor would’ve probably done him in by now. Especially when he was talking bad about his Mother, you saw the way Alastor stared at your husband. The same angry look you gave him when he had gotten on your last nerve. But before Alastor could get to him, some other patron did. Knocked your husband’s nose sideways and a tooth completely out. Bastard deserved it completely and till this day you don’t visit that place. You needed a fucking drink thinking about your husband but the bastard drunk your house completely dry.

A knock on your front door snapped you out of your thoughts and as you turned towards your front door, the man of the hour had walked through your door. A huge grin plastered on his face, one hand holding a bottle of whiskey and in the other today's paper. “Ah ha! There you are, My Dear!” He called out his suit absolutely spotless. A smile formed on your lips as you grabbed two glasses from the cupboard, waving him towards one of the only rooms your husband doesn’t enter. “You had me worrying there for a moment,” He said tilting his head back towards you as he led you to the parlor room, “Maybe that husband of yours was back from wherever he was lurking.” He finished his smile falling into a snarl, Alastor was also not a huge fan of your husband from the start. You never asked why as you both didn’t want to think of him during your little time together.

“Please..you know better than I do that he’s hitting up on a poor dame at the bar.” You replied, sitting the glasses down on the table causing him to make a noise in acknowledgement, “At this point, Alastor..I’m believing you're a mind reader with how you just appear with whiskey in hand at my front door.” At that? He let out a loud belly laugh leaning in closer to you allowing his gaze to soften as he stared at your features before he leaned away opening the bottle of whiskey. This was going to be a long night for the both of you and you had forgotten all about the gift.

~~~

A couple weeks had passed since you last saw Alastor in person but you didn’t fret, he had called the next day to tell you he had made it back home safely. Something he had picked up ever since you had asked him to stay the night so long ago, you were-..are still scared of your own thoughts. The ones that dare creep out, the ones who tell you to crack open your husband’s chest and rip out his still beating heart. The ones who you don’t dare tell a soul and you sure as hell won’t tell Alastor, he’d think you're insane. But you knew..you were slowly losing yourself and everyday it was one step closer to killing your husband.

Walking into the kitchen and rolling your eyes seeing your husband looking like hell, “Hungover John?” You hissed out as you moved past him a grunt falling from his lips in reply, “Shut the fuck up..” He hissed out speech still slurred as half assed venom dripped from his tongue. “I wasn’t the one up at 1 in the morning drinking with that no good radio host.” You froze your hand twitching towards the knife on the counter but stopped yourself, “I wasn’t the one who was at the bar drinking his sorrows away whilst trying to bed another dame for the twentieth time this week.” You hissed back, sending a glare towards him.

John stood up fully and walked towards you getting into your face, hand raising to no doubt strike you. But nothing came as someone cleared their voice, an icy cold tone to it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Friend.” Alastor..fuck you forgot about him and his way of just walking into your house. You had drunkenly given him a key one night, ‘Just in case’ you told him. You were glad that you did because as soon as he heard Alastor’s cold voice he immediately backed up and stormed off deeper into the house.

Alastor’s cold gaze had followed the poor idiotic man as he disappeared into the home before they snapped back onto you. “Are you alright?” He asked the venom and anger laced in his voice gone but you saw how his eyes still held his anger, like they did when that fool had talked bad about his Mother. You often had envy and wished that you could know a mother’s gentle hand guiding you towards a better life. But criminals only give birth to criminals, your mother had left the Earth so long ago you don’t even remember what she looked like anymore but sometimes when you look into a crowd you see a familiar figure and a part of you becomes elated before it crashes and burns into the ground.

“I’m fine, Alastor.” You replied softly as you glanced down the hallway where your husband stormed off. Alastor sat silent watching your face keep still but the sadness in your eyes was apparent, he knew you yearned for freedom and solace. He knew how you would rather be a thousand miles away from your “husband”- God he hated that word and man, if he could’ve he would’ve killed him a long time ago. Walking over he softly hummed, “Let me take you out on the town, Dear…a way to get your head cleared.” He whispered, reaching over and carefully placing his hand on your shoulder. He watched your eyes once almost so lifeless and dull flicker to life at the thought, “All day?” You asked, glancing at him, the warmness in your eyes returning, a small smile forming on your lips. Hook…line…and sinker, he’s got you right where he wants you, perfectly safe in his hands.

“Of course, Dear! Now go on, go get dressed!” he hummed his smile, returning as he guided you to go down to your own bedroom which was supposed to be the guest bedroom. You never explained why you had moved bedrooms but he didn’t need to guess or ask. It was abundantly clear to anyone who had stepped foot in your household, this “marriage” wasn’t full of love. It was only necessary and after the first year of it, you had grown cold. That man had taken away any semblance of your hope and happiness for a better life. Alastor hummed a tune that played from his radio broadcasts as he looked around your home, he’s seen the decor and fake photos that hung up on the wall a million times but yet it never gets old. Especially when he’s staring at the photo of you on your wedding day, the way the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “What are you still doing here?” A slurred voice asked, causing him to calmly look over. His smile grew wider at the sight of the boy in front of him. That wasn’t a man..far from it. “Good to see you at least a little sober, Jonathan.” He hummed, dodging the question thrown his way.

“Shut the fuck up, Alastor.” John threw back, moving closer as Alastor’s eyes darkened. Just a little closer..and then he’d be gone for good. “John!” You yelled out making the man flinch and Alastor’s heart raced, oh how he loved hearing that venom lace your tongue; it was always a delight to see how commanding you were when you wanted to be. When Alastor first met you, you were quiet yet happy and you hadn’t been married to this fool. Such a lovely little mouse minding your own business when you had accidentally bumped into him. He wouldn’t believe anyone if they said meeting you would change his life. You had spilled wine on his suit, yet you didn’t freak out when you saw his eyes flicker angrily. Only apologized and paid for his new suit with the money you had been saving up to leave for good, he wouldn’t find that out until a year later.

John looked over at you with anger but soon he once again stormed out of the house cursing you and Alastor. Alastor looked over at you with a gentle smile returning to his lips as he guided you to the front door. “Come now~ Let’s paint the town red, Dear” He called out laughing at his own little joke making you roll your eyes at his antics. Silly man.

~~~

Hours happily passed by and the day turned into night from swinging into tailors and from jazz clubs to socialite parties so you both could secretly judge people between hushed breaths, he eventually led you down to a park that was lit up with lampposts every so often before sitting down on a park bench under the moonlights soft glow. Your laughter had died down into a comfortable silence as you glanced over at Alastor. His leg crossed the other one, “I haven’t seen someone so eager to play the fool in one of those parties.” He laughed out, tapping his thumb on his knee, “Something on my face, Darling?” You jumped and looked away, “No no..sorry I..I’ve been lost in my own thoughts recently, Alastor.”

He looked over at you, you were unusually silent the whole night. “Can I tell you something?” You asked, watching as you finally looked over, oh he could never get used to those eyes of yours and that darling little smile was everything to him. “Of course, Darling.” He reached over and carefully plucked a stray leaf from your shoulder, his attention fully on you. You looked down, hands trembling..you had to tell him, you could tell him right? “Nevermind it, you’d think I’d gone insane.” You corrected and cleared your throat leaning back into the cooled bench. You felt uncomfortably hot despite the cold air, winter was right around the corner.

Using his hand to rub at his chin as he hummed your favorite tune he played on air, this piqued his curiosity much more than he’d like to admit. “I’d never think such a thing, my friend!” He replied throwing his hand up in the air as if to actually try and swat those thoughts away from your mind. “Tell me whenever you feel ready to do so, my Dear!~” He was always willing to listen to you even if it was about nothing, your voice was practically music to his ears. Closing his eyes as a cold breeze hit his face as he continued to hum along to fill the silent night, he suspected it was your..’husband’..the cause of all your misery. The way your honeyed voice was now constantly laced with venom and authority as if you had to fight to even allow your voice to be heard. Your silence had felt like an eternity for him but he knew it had only been a moment or two, he didn’t realize how addicted to your voice he had become.

“I..I’ve been having thoughts.” You started making him look over at you, his eyes narrowing in concern at your form, how small you had looked at the moment. He had leaned forward and took his jacket off before draping it over your figure not minding how the cold nipped at his skin but he didn’t interrupt you, he knew better to do so. “Angry thoughts..well they started out that way but now they’ve turned into something more..violent.” You explained carefully pulling his jacket closer to your frame, eyes casted off in the woods. You imagine some man standing there, blood covering his hands and drenching his shirt, a wicked smile on his face as he looked up into the night sky and laughed out loud for god to hear him.

Alastor followed your gaze as his humming slowed down until it completely stopped to allow the silence to fill the air, his smile pulling into a more sinister one at how he finally understood. The same one that happened to find its way on his lips after killing his latest victim, he quickly rubbed his hand over his mouth allowing the smile to drop before you could catch a glimpse of it. “I think of what it would feel like to rip flesh from bone..to finally choke him out..I want to know what it feels like to snub out a life..his life. I’m not a violent person and these thoughts terrify me, I try to keep them hidden but…sometimes they slip out.” You finish up finally noticing how tight your throat felt and the tears falling down your face. It felt great to finally get that off your chest but now the anxiety of it all set in, would he rat you out to the police? Would he hate you?

“I don’t remember when they started. Was it when I was forced to get married to him? I’d tell myself I can save enough money and start somewhere new..but then I’d miss you..miss your early morning show and our late night talks.” You confessed spilling your problems out onto the sidewalk like a drunkard when he had spilled his guts on the pavement. You were pathetic in your own way. Alastor watched you for a few moments before carefully pulling you into his side, using a handkerchief tucked into his vest pocket to carefully wipe your tears away. “No more tears, dear friend.” he whispered, allowing you to hide your face into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around your waist.

He was at a crossroad in his own mind, should he tell you not to go with it? He wouldn’t want you to go into this dirty mess. But he also wants you to feel the rush of adrenaline when snubbing out a life, he wants to help. But either way if you did or didn’t he’d take care of it..in some way or another. No one should hurt his little mouse in such a way and get away with it. It was silent for a long time as you calmed yourself and he held you with a softness that was foreign to himself and most others.

“I always..I always imagined running away with you..to some old house down near the bayou.” You whispered out feeling the familiar chain that hung on his vest, the one hidden under his jacket. He leaned his head against yours and hummed in reply. It sounded picture perfect in his mind.

~~~

You sat at the church pew next to your ‘husband’ and kept your head down as you listened in on the priest doing his normal sermon. The only time your husband had decided to not be drunk and clean up for once in his life was always on Sundays or when his family was coming over. Something you always ran away from, you stayed in the empty parlor with a glass of water and a small book. His mother was never kind to you nor his sisters, you chose to ignore them and their gossip. Especially when you had to be seated around them in a church talking about a man who you possibly didn’t believe in but was instead forced to hear this priest talk about whatever was in the bible. Your hands clasped together as your mind kept drifting off.

It had only been two days since you told everything to Alastor, your feelings and how you wished to murder your own husband. You haven’t been able to talk to Alastor since which was fine, he was a very busy man after all. Lifting your head up as you felt your husband nudge your leg with his own, you sent him a glance ignoring how he was practically glaring at you. “Don’t embarrass me infront of my family” He hissed out as you glared at the wall. “They already know how rocky our relationship is, John.” You hissed back, about to leave but someone sat next to you keeping his head down, “Sorry I’m late, Dear Friend.” Alastor whispered, making the anger dissipate in a matter of seconds, “Mother wanted to go see an old friend,” He hummed and got comfortable next to you.

After an hour or maybe it was a good 10 minutes you couldn’t tell but Alastor had successfully dragged you away and out of the church under the guise of it being important and he couldn’t dare interrupt the sermon. You didn’t care now as you laughed at some joke that was pointed towards your husband, walking down the street arm in arm as he used his other hand to dramatically explain everything that’s happened between the hours you both had parted. The crying and confession long gone in your mind as you pointed out the flaws in his story but he had only reached over and pinched your nose between his fingers with only a half hearted threat of keeping his ‘secrets’.

As you both walked down the street the laughter and conversation lulled into a peaceful silence. “Where are you taking me?” You asked, feeling a familiar presence in your pocket, the gift you had forgotten about for weeks now. “Just for a walk through the park, Dear.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a smile had formed on your face but your eyes still had that faraway look in them. Guess you were going back into your own head again, “I got you something a while ago and forgot it in my jacket” you called out reaching into your jacket and pulling the small box out, you didn’t want to bring up the fact it was supposed to be a gift for your husband. Alastor abruptly stopped in his tracks and looked at you, “You didn’t need to do such a thing, Dear.” You only smiled at him and gave him the box, “I know..but I wanted to give it to you.” You whispered out watching as he opened the box, his eyes widening. It was one of the newer pocket watches that you’ve had your eyes on for a long while now, “Dearest I..I couldn’t take this.” He replied carefully, taking the watch out, flipping it open and smiling. “But you can..and you will cause it’s for you, Al..”

You loved seeing him smile like that, something that you had rarely seen when you first started hanging out. It’s still mostly rare, especially when he’s had a hard day or the simple fact that you sometimes don’t see him for days on end. He put the pocket watch back into the box carefully, “Guess I’ll have to find to pay you back now?” He hummed out placing the box into his pocket causing you to sigh, “You know you don’t have to do such a thing, Alastor. I..I don’t deserve it.” Only criminals give birth to criminals and criminals don’t get nice things.

“Oh but I think you do,” He replied and leaned down to gently tap your forehead, “Despite what those thoughts of yours tell you.” You blinked and stared at him, “You know me too well,” You huffed turning away from him. “Not well enough!” He called happily following after you and quickly catching up, long legged bastard. You looked up at him as he held out his arm, “Are you sure about that, Alastor? I think you know me better than most people.” You said carefully taking hold of his arm, he chuckled and quicked his step making you practically had to speed walk to catch up with him.

The night truly didn’t stop until you were almost on the verge of passing out from laughter and how sleep creeped up on your shoulders. Alastor’s arm was snuggly wrapped around your waist to keep you upright as the sandman was practically calling your name. “Come on now, one foot up the step.” He whispered as he guided your sleepy self up onto your own porch. “I can walk fine, Alastor. I’m not drunk,” You whispered, shaking your head trying to fight off how your eyes grew heavier. You don’t like being up past a certain time in the early mornings but for Alastor you would’ve done it a million times over….Maybe you did have a crush on him but he wouldn’t love you back in a million years.

You don’t remember when you got into your bedroom, did you black out on him? Yet he was still holding you against his chest as he swayed you to an imaginary rhythm. “And here I thought you had fallen asleep on me already.” He whispered out, causing you to jump out of your skin for a second before you huffed, “Sorry, didn’t mean to do so.” You replied leaning back to try and smooth out his shirt, now noticing his jacket was draped near the door of your bedroom. “Nonsense, I find it comforting in a way that you trust me to fall asleep near me.” He replied watching you, his bow tie had been undone for a couple hours now but watching the way you had subconsciously fixed it for him made his heart race and butterflies erupt in his stomach.

His mind wandered off watching as you blinked the sleep from your eyes to make sure he still looked presentable. He wondered sometimes what it would be like if he married you instead of that idiotic man. “..Don’t leave for too long this time, Al..I know I’ll eventually hear your voice on the radio but sometimes it’s not the same..” You whispered out glancing back up at him, his gloved hand reaching up to cup your face tracing the bags under your eyes with his thumb, “I’ll try, Cher..” He replied as he leaned down to press his head against yours. He couldn’t promise it but he’d try especially since he has been working so hard on his plan to get rid of that idiotic husband of yours.

You leaned your head up, allowing for your noses to brush against one another. His arms were still wrapped around your waist, one of his hands splayed on the middle of your back. Then it had hit you, all those times he had pulled you away from your husband and took you to the places you loved..was he silently courting you? Had he been doing so for days now and you were just too stupid to notice? You gently cupped his face and watched as he had opened his eyes, when did he close them? “I..Alastor? Have you been courting me?” Your voice was only above a whisper making him freeze in his tracks. He was silent for a long time before he nodded and sighed. “I have been yes,” He replied and you felt your face warm, seemingly all of the tiredness from before had dissipated.

His gloved hands came up to carefully grasp onto yours as your thumb caressed his cheek, a faint scar that had healed overtime. You remembered when you saw the scar, yet you never asked, figuring he would’ve told you when he decided to do so. He had yet to say a word about it so it must’ve not been important. In the years that you had known him, you’ve grown to love him and to be wary of him all at the same time. He was a wild mutt waiting to sink his teeth into any fresh meat he could find, he wasn’t the one to be tamed or “domesticated” and you surely would never think to tie him down to a preconceived notion such as marriage or a family life. It took someone truly special to worm their way into his heart and that was a tough act, nonetheless, he had picked and prodded at the worst parts of you wanting to see how quick it took for you to finally snap at him, show your fangs and reveal your weak spots to him. He loved the game of it.

Yet here he was, the same wild animal that used to raise his hackles and bare its sharp teeth was essentially laying down and showing his belly to you. He’d disappear to find his fill and get those fangs bloodied before he’d make his way back to you. Maybe everyone who told you to stay away was right, he wasn’t a man to stick around but here you were inviting the man into your home day after day because you just couldn’t get enough of him.

Blinking your thoughts away you focused on Alastor, how he had leaned closer to you. “May I?” He whispered, ever the gentleman he was, his hands carefully squeezing yours as you nodded your head a small smile on your lips. Wordlessly, he closed the gap and gently kissed you. At first it was such a small kiss but you didn’t want it to end, you just got a taste of what it felt like to be loved..actually loved and it felt amazing, that one small kiss turned into a bigger one as his hands fell down to hold onto your sides.

You would be asleep until lunch the next day, the memory still fresh on your mind as you awoke to find a small gift box on your bedside table. You were going to kill Alastor.

~~~

You sat in an office, legs crossed as you watched the lawyer in front of you collect some papers and give you a passing glance every so often. “Now, it’s to my knowledge you are looking to file for a divorce?” The man asked, causing you to nod, “Now is there a reason for this divorce?” You huffed, how many times did you have to explain it? “Infidelity, I’ve caught him one too many times and I’d rather make this quick.” You huffed out venom lacing your tongue as you watched the older gentleman nod and produced some papers.

After an hour of signing papers and making everything on record you had finally gone home. You didn’t even greet your husband when you walked inside, just placed the papers on the table and left for the day ignoring how he yelled out for you. You had walked all the way to the park, the same park Alastor had walked you to all those weeks ago and you spilled your darkest secrets out into the open. Sitting on the same bench as you watched people pass by as your eyes drifted to the woods, you also knew Alastor was an avid hunter and you’d be alone for a while longer as deer season came around. You’d be alone with your husband and your thoughts. You hoped this divorce would go through but it was a slim chance and then you would rightfully be kicked out of church for thinking of doing such a thing. Laughter rang in your ears as you got lost in your own world, your eyes glued onto the Doe walking out of the collection of trees to find something to eat on.

As the doe finally found something to snack on it had turned its head up and towards you. A small part of you felt a twinge of dread as you stared at the doe and the other part felt calm as the feeling started to grow and settle into the pit of your stomach, your breathing slowed down considerably before the doe had run off seemingly spooked away. You frowned and watched as it disappeared further into the woods. Gloved hands clamped down onto your shoulders making you jump up in surprise and let out a loud scream as Alastor’s laugh was heard from behind you.

You turned on your heel ignoring the passerby who looked on in confusion, “I’m going to kill you, Alastor.” You hissed out trying to hide the prominent blush on your features and how your lips creeped up into a smile. He smirked, he knew you didn’t actually mean you would kill him. Your version of ‘kill’ meant you would simply get him back later in some kind of fashion. You were a smart person after all. “I’m sorry, Dear! You were so out of sorts you looked primed for me to scare you.” He hummed and moved to sit down on the bench, his hand patting the spot next to him. You let out a loud sigh sitting next to him, “What’s on your mind?” He hummed out fixing his gloves before moving to brush imaginary dust off his pants.

You were silent for some time trying to figure out the words in your head, “I gave John divorce papers today.” you whispered out causing him to look over trying to hide the growing smile on his face, you still haven’t brought up the kiss you both shared the night before and you were scared to do so. “Really?” He hummed, leaning back against the bench using one hand to tap a melody on his knee, “I’m just waiting for him to sign it and see if the court will..allow the divorce to happen.” He didn’t answer and looked ahead as the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Your mind raced as another cold breeze hit you in the face, what would you do if the court denied the divorce? Would Alastor still..be by your side? The thoughts raced and raced but before you could delve deeper, a warm inviting hand was placed onto your shoulder causing you to look over at him confused but leaned into the warmth.

“It’s going to be okay, Dear. Don’t let those thoughts run you ragged now.” You nodded at his words and smiled, “Figured you’d be out hunting by now.” That made him let out a small laugh as his smile grew wider and went off on a tangent about hunting and how to actually be a good hunter.

You’d be fine.

~~~

You’d be fine.

Those were the words echoing in your head as you were now standing in your kitchen hands on the counter as you stared down at the broken glass cup as you heard your husband yell at you. The amber liquid is now spilling onto the wooden floor, your cheek burned like hell and you tasted the iron in your mouth as you unclench your jaw allowing your teeth to free themselves from your tongue. You stormed over to the phone and used the rotary dial to call a familiar number that you had stuck in the back of your mind. Alastor. You don’t remember the start of the conversation. All you could mumble between the stinging pain and blood in your mouth was, “Come over..It’s an emergency.” Before hanging up abruptly.

The next few moments were quick in your mind but you knew it took far much longer to do as your hands trembled. Grabbing whatever heavy metal object you could find in the vicinity, as your husband turned to face you once more. The fear in the man’s eyes as you swung and hit him in the face, breaking his nose with a sickening crack. He fell to the floor, his hands moving to cover his nose as he stared up into your empty anger filled eyes, god..it felt good to see him as nothing but a pathetic ant beneath your feet. It felt invigorating as you dropped to your knees one hand holding him down as you continuously bashed the item into his face until he was nothing more than a lifeless body surrounded by a pool of his own blood.

You stared down at him and then the blood covering your hands as tears formed into your eyes and a sob bubbled up from your throat but you weren’t sad. Far from it..you were relieved as you looked up at the ceiling falling flat on your ass as you started to laugh between horrid sobs. Your hands grasping at your shirt laughing louder until your cheeks hurt from how long you were smiling and as Alastor finally came into your vision. The smile faltered for a moment as another loud sob wracked your body, “I did it, Al..I did it-” You choked out as you curled into yourself. “It felt so fucking good..I felt fucking invincible.” You hissed out blood dripping from your mouth and onto the floor. “Oh god- I finally fucking did it.”

Alastor walked over calmly and quietly, his hands clasping on your shoulders. His suit was long gone as when you called him he was in the middle of getting ready to go out ‘hunting’ but when he heard your desperation, he rushed over immediately. “You did and I’m so proud of you, Dearest..but go get cleaned up and I’ll deal with the mess, yes?” He whispered into your ear as you let out another sob allowing him to help you stand up on your two feet. As he helped you to your own bathroom and got you fresh clothes, he went back to the freshly dead body in your kitchen and smirked. “Got what you had comin’ old boy.” He hissed out before starting to get to work cleaning up the mess.

It didn’t take him long to clean up but now he had to find a way to actually get rid of the body. In your backyard? No, that's too suspicious..in the woods? Maybe but he doesn’t want you to have another breakdown. But he would have to wait until night time so right now? He’s going to have to play the part just in case people start to suspect something. He looked around and draped a blanket over the body before dragging it towards an empty room.

When he had walked back to the kitchen, he had watched as you were carefully cleaning up the shards of glass. Walking over he had finally noticed the blooming bruise on your cheek causing a part of him to be angry. “He hit you?” He whispered out helping you stand up, “Yeah..after we got home after the court denied the appeal..said I embarrassed him and broke a cup over my head before slapping me.” You whispered your speech slurred from your swollen tongue making you flinch, “What do I do now?” You whispered out, allowing him to gently grab your chin, “I don’t know what to do, Al..” His eyes softened and he sighed, “Sit down and I’ll cook something for you, Dear. We are gonna have to wait till nightfall.” He hummed, pressing a gentle kiss upon your head.

Later that night, he had helped you bury your ex husband deep in the forest, he mostly did all the dirty work but he did explain how to hide a body.

~~~

It was now 1931, four years after you had killed your ex husband and a year after the economy collapsed. You and Alastor had moved in with one another and while not officially married by the courts you both loved one another and acted as such. Wearing a wedding ring on your finger told everyone you were either remarried or you still loved your poor ex husband that was murdered in cold blood by the rampant serial killer that was on the loose. Which would be far from the truth.

His family blamed you for his murder, calling you every name in the book and berating you for ‘kicking him out of the house’ which also wasn’t the truth. Yet another lie your ex had spun to keep his pride intact, you didn’t care in all honesty. The man was gone now..killed by your hands.

But here you were walking down the dark streets of New Orleans to get back home to your loving Beau, you had heard through the grapevine he was having a rough day and hoped to cheer him up that night but as you continued to walk down the street you realized that you were being followed. But maybe not maybe it was just your paranoia, but still you felt like a waiting duck, taking a turn down an alleyway and then another hoping to lose the trail of whoever was following you.

It wasn’t until you had gotten to a familiar part of town out near the bayou that you felt relatively calmer but then that was stomped on when you heard a yell from behind. You looked back thinking it was one of the friendly neighbors but it wasn't. It was the man from before the same one who was following you. You dropped the book you were holding and broke out into a sprint down towards where your house was, trying your best to dodge anything that could hurt you. Then a loud shot rang out and it sounded like thunder causing your body to freeze up for a second. But you continued to keep running, you just needed to get home..you could see the smoke billowing from the chimney and the soft glow of the lights inside.

Your heartbeat was banging on your chest as you ran, you were almost there..you could see Alastor inside before a loud SNAP echoed through the silent air as you fell face first into the ground.

You scrambled to get up sobbing as you looked back to see a trap digging into your leg, its sharp teeth scraping against bone as you sat up watching as the man got closer. “Fuck fuck-” you hissed out as you started to painfully get the jaws of the trap unstuck and scrambled off ignoring how your leg was burning. You yelled out for Alastor before another loud shot echoed through the air. The constant buzzing of the cicadas had gone silent as you fell to the ground gasping for air. Oh god it hurt, your hands moved to clutch your stomach as you looked up at the man, pistol in his hand pointed right between your eyes, “You killed my brother.” He hissed out his voice breaking as you teared up and begged him to let you go.

Tears cascaded down your face as he yelled, whispering some prayer that spilled past your lips and then the night went silent. As the gun had fallen down the hammer hit the ground first causing the gun to be set off, the bullet flying into the sky of the New Orleans Bayou. You trembled laying on the ground sobbing as you brought your hands up to see blood covering them the moonlight had casted down upon you as you sobbed out. There was movement before your head was lifted up and cradled into your Husband’s chest. His familiar cologne invades your senses in a comfortable way as he shakily tries to stop the bleeding.

“It’s going to be okay, Cher..I’ll fix you right up.” he whispered into your hair as he pressed his hand onto your stomach. You were bleeding out too much as your breathing started to slow. No no it wasn’t supposed to end like this, tears raced down his cheeks as he pulled you closer as your hand weakly grasped around his sobbing out how you didn’t want to die. But he knew he couldn’t help you, he was far too late to properly help you and it was too far to get you to a doctor. “Sing me a song, Al?” You whispered out, “One last song?” he nodded and cleared his throat, watching as the light in your eyes slowly faded as he sung your favorite song.

He stayed like that for an extra hour, holding your lifeless body to his and singing all your favorite songs before he finally had the courage to find a place to bury you properly, making sure that when the sun rose the next morning it’s first rays it sent out over the bayou would hit your grave. You always did love watching the sun rise and listening to his broadcasts.

He would meet you again, he just knew it. He just didn’t know when.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor hazbin hotel #gn reader #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x gn!reader

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

Note

How did Bruce find out that the paparazzi knew about shop girl 👀

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Warnings: Angst; fluff; cursing; not beta-read

“Check your email.”

“It’s nice to hear from you, too, Liz. Lovely weather we’re having,” Bruce bats back sarcastically.

“Bruce,” Liz presses, “Put me on speaker and check your fucking email. Hurry.”

Bruce frowns at the edge of panic in Liz’s voice. He does as she orders, drawing his phone back from his ear and swiping to his email. He sees one from Liz there–something forwarded with the subject: Bruce Wayne New Bit - Proof and Profile

His brow furrows as he taps the email open, and he sucks in a sharp breath. Son of a bitch. He knew he’d seen something just before they’d left Gran Canaria. It had only been a second, just out of the corner of his eye, but the flash of a camera had been unmistakable. Still, he'd second-guessed himself when none had followed. He scrolls down to the next photo, cursing as he sees a picture of the two of them kissing in the lobby that morning. Goddamnit, he should’ve been more careful.

“When did you get this?” He asks.

“A friend of a friend sent it to me and asked for comment.”

“Fuck.”

“It’s going out today, Bruce.”

“I’ll stop it.”

“It’s too late to stop it.”

Bruce pushes a frustrated breath through his nose, his fingers flexing around the phone. He has the urge to chuck it into the wall. He hesitates, then takes a few cursory steps toward the penthouse windows. He peers down onto the street, growling as he spots the gathering news vans.

“...What are you gonna do?” Liz asks.

“I can’t bring her back here, they’ll swarm us,” Bruce shakes his head, “And I can’t go get her.”

“Swarm.”

“Exactly.”

“How about I send Grant to get her? They know one another, it won’t be that weird. He can bring her to the penthouse.”

“I don’t think the penthouse is a good idea right now.” His gaze darts to the buildings across from him, eyeing the odd flash of a camera. “Besides, she’s working.”

“I’m sure wherever she’s working will let her go for the rest of the day.”

They probably would, now that they must all know she’s dating the boss. Fuck. She wanted to get this without him, she didn’t want to trade on his name. Now everyone in the office is going to think she slept her way into that job. Frustration and anger burrow into his chest. Of all days—of all the fucking days, she doesn’t deserve for this to happen to her today.

“...Liz?”

“Mhm.”

“Let me call you back, I’ll uh—I’ll call her, see what she wants to do.”

“Alright. Say the word, Grant’ll get in the car.”

“Thanks.”

He ends the call and wandered away from the window, his heart pounding in his chest. He opens to her contact, hits the call button, and waits…And waits…And waits…Only for it to go to voicemail. Maybe she’s seen the story already and she doesn’t want to talk to him right now. He presses the call button again…and waits…and goddamnit, pick up the phone—

“Is everything alright?”

Bruce whirls around at the question, spotting Alfred and shaking his head.

“Could you call her?” Bruce asks, “She’s not answering me.”

“She may be in a meeting.”

“On the first day?” Bruce frowns.

“Such things can happen.” Alfred draws his phone out of his pocket regardless. Bruce waits impatiently, watching as Alfred waits…And then shakes his head. “No answer.”

“Try again?”

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the accumulation of reporters and paparazzi outside, would it?”

“It might,” Bruce grimaces. Alfred grunts, trying her phone again. Bruce feels his phone buzz and looks down, doing a double-take at the sight of her name. He raises his hand to Alfred, waving the call off as he answers the phone, raising it to his ear.

“Hey,” Bruce starts, “I need to warn you, there’s a—”

“There are people outside, all around the building!”

The panicked quiver in her voice makes him feel helpless. Aw, hell, he didn’t want this. He listens, letting his eyes slide closed as she adds, “Everyone in the office has seen it, and—And I was just going to go out and get lunch and now I can’t leave, I don't know what to do—”

“It’s okay,” Bruce reassures, though he’s almost entirely certain that it absolutely isn’t. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll get some food ordered to your office so you won’t have to go anywhere—I’ll use Alfred’s name,” He hurries to add before she can argue, “Liz’s boyfriend is going to come pick you up after work. I can have him get you in the parking lot. I’ll drive by in a different car, pull their attention away from you. We’ll go to the Manor and get out of the city for the night. We can…Regroup out there. Okay?”

There’s a moment of deathly silence on the other end, chased by a soft sniffle. It strikes him right in the heart. He wants to be there. He wants to wipe away any tears that may be escaping her eyes, to pull her into his chest and promise her that everything’s going to be alright, that he’ll take care of her.

“Okay.” Her concession is soft, chased by a, “Thank you.”

“It’s going to be alright, baby. I’ll take care of it. I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you.”

It’s a glum mumble before she hangs up the phone. Bruce sighs heavily, lowering the phone to text Liz.

“What a fucking mess,” He mutters.

“Shall I pack a few of her things for overnight?”

“Yes, please,” Bruce nods, shooting Alfred a grateful smile before looking down at his phone again.

The rest of the day is hell. You do your best to keep your calm, to hold your head up high and not waver or flinch at the questioning glances of your coworkers. By the time you’re heading to the garage (looking for Grant in his grey Mazda Miata), you’re worn out. You get into the car, buckling up and sliding down in your seat.

Grant casts you a sympathetic smile.

“You okay?” He asks.

No, you’re awful. You’re in a shit mood. You’re tired, and upset, and completely at loose ends, you want to fold like a deck chair and sob until you're out of tears—

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just, um...Long day,” You shake your head. “Long, weird day.”

“I went through it, too,” Grant sympathizes. “When they found out about me and Liz. It never hangs around long. A couple of weeks of craziness and then they move on to the next couple. They’ll fuck off in a bit. You’ll be old news.”

“I’d prefer to have never been news in the first place.”

“I know. Sorry,” Grant reaches out, patting your shoulder gently.

“...Grant?”

“Yeah.”

“Why aren’t we moving?”

“I’m waiting for Bruce to text and uh—lemme know when he’s going to drive by. He’s gonna go pick up Liz, try and divert attention.”

Oh, great. That’s all you need. Bruce being seen with Liz, you being seen with Grant, and the inevitable press coverage of an alleged love square. You slide even further down in your seat as Grant finally started up the car.

“Put your elbow on the window,” He advises, “And cover your face with your hand, like you’re trying to sleep. On the off-chance someone does watch us instead of Bruce, they won’t get all of your face.”

“You’ve done this before.”

“Many, many times.”

You’ve heard a lot about the Manor, but being there is…Something else. You arrive with Grant before Liz and Bruce get there. You smile weakly at the sight of Alfred.

“Is there somewhere I could just go and sit for a little while?” You ask.

“I’ll show you to Master Wayne’s room. Please excuse us,” He nods to Grant before waving an arm toward a room off to the left. “There are drinks prepared in the sitting room.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit,” Grant smiles.

“Yeah. And—Thanks, again.”

“Anytime.”

Bruce’s bedroom is different from the one at the penthouse. It’s furnished far more grandly. Hell, from what you’ve seen so far, the whole Manor is. You kick your shoes off and pace, unable to keep still. Your belly squirms with discomfort and upset. What the hell are you going to do? You just started this fucking job, you can’t quit now—but fuck, it’s so tempting. You’ll be getting even more looks now that everyone knows that you're with Bruce. No one’s going to believe that you got the job on your own merit—except, maybe the hiring manager. Still, you didn’t expect them to go out of the way to extol your experience to everyone at the fucking foundation—

“There you are.”

You turn at the sound of Bruce’s voice. You hardly have a chance to get a look at him before you’re barrelling into his arms. He catches hold of you without a second’s hesitation, drawing you to his chest. He rests a hand on the back of your neck, gently sweeping his thumb over your nape as you fall apart. You can’t stop the tears that you’ve been holding back any longer. You do try, but you draw in a breath just a touch too deep, and it all comes spilling out. You fist your hands in the fabric of his t-shirt, sniffling. Bruce presses a kiss to your temple.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” He murmurs. “I didn’t have time to stop it. I should’ve been more careful.”

It’s an apology that you’re getting more and more lately—when he’s come home late, when he’s come home hurt. He should’ve been more careful. Hell, in this instance, maybe you both should’ve been more careful. You draw back, scrubbing your hands over your face as Bruce rubs his hands comfortingly over your shoulders. You blink the tears away, sniffling still.

“You wanna lie down?” He asks.

“We shouldn’t,” You shake your head. “Liz and Grant are downstairs.”

“They’ll keep.”

You laugh in spite of yourself, some of your upset melting as Bruce’s face lights up at your smile.

“We should get down there,” You insist, “And um…We should figure out what we’re doing tonight.”

“Alfred packed a bag of your things. We can stay here if it’s easier.”

You sigh heavily, leaning into him and pressing your face into his neck.

“You think of everything, don’t you,” You mumble.

“Pretty much…Though Alfred should really get the credit for that one.”

“I’ll have to thank him.”

“Long as you don’t thank him the same way you usually thank me—Ow!” He laughs as you pinch him in the arm.

“...Did any of that help at all?”

Bruce mumbles the question, and you can hear that he’s on the edge of sleep. It’s a surprise. Maybe he feels so bad about what’s happened that he’s insisting on spending the night in with you. Frankly, you’re not entirely sure that you care why. You just cuddle into his side and peer at the window.

Frankly, speaking with Liz and Grant about what had happened to them did help quite a bit. It made your experience feel far less singular, though it’s still been moderately jarring. Besides, they’d helped you and Bruce strategize on how best to keep your heads down, your name out of the paper, so long as it could be helped.

“Yes,” You admit. “Quite a bit.”

“Good.”

Bruce’s hand rubs tenderly over your back, nuzzling against your forehead gently.

“There’s one thing we didn’t talk about,” He adds after a moment.

“Mm? What’s that?”

“You can back out.”

It snaps you fully awake. Your heart stutters in your chest. You reel back and twist to face him, peering down at him in the dark, expecting, hoping for a teasing grin—but Bruce’s face is set with grim sincerity.

“...You can’t be serious,” You shake your head.

“It’s only fair that we discuss—”

“Shut up.”

It’s not normally a tack that you’d take with Bruce, but you’re tired, and you’re upset, and now, you’re pissed.

“How dare you say that to me,” You shake your head, voice almost deathly quiet.

“It’s an offer—”

“It’s bullshit,” You insist. “After every fucking thing we’ve been through—After spending a night watching over you, certain that I was going to lose you, you think I’m going to crumble because I had a fucking camera shoved in my face?”

“I just mean,” He pushes himself to sit up and meet your eye, “That it’s one thing after another. I’m used to it, I know it can get tiring—”

“Well I’m getting pretty fucking used to it, myself.”

“I know.”

Bruce’s voice is gentle and appeasing. He takes hold of your hand as you sigh heavily, lowering your gaze to your hands where they’re joined above the sheets.

“Honestly,” You mumble, scrubbing your other hand over your eyes. “I love you way too much to be scared off from you, or from work. I can handle it, I just…I need some time to adjust. I’ll adjust.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment before he reaches out, curling his arm around your waist and drawing you into his side, pressing his face into your neck. You feel him speak. His lips brush against your neck, his words tickle your skin—but you can’t really hear what he says. You frown, turning your head in his direction a little.

“What was what?” You press.

Bruce seems to breathe you in before he rests his chin on your shoulder, his forehead resting against your cheekbone. He repeats himself, and your eyes slip shut. You could fold in on yourself. You could explode. Your hand tightens around his, tipping your head against him as his words ring through you:

“I love you, too, baby.”

Next Part

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Bruce Wayne fic #Bruce Wayne imagine #The Other Half

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5ugarand5pice · 1 year

Text

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve

(can we pretend it says silverstone instead of melbourne thank you)

Part 1: Dear Reader | Part 2: Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve | Part 3: coming soon

pairing: driver! reader x f1 grid

inspired by: Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve by Taylor Swift (ik the song is unrelated but if anyone wants to cry over the possible Taylor and Joe split, my dms are open)

a/n: a couple months late but you asked and now you shall receive! thank you so much for all the love for Dear Reader, it means the world to me 🥹🤍 super sorry for going ghost (went thru a breakup, cried over a 🤢boy🤢 and tried to get my shit together) but i’m all good now and better than ever! definitely in my reputation era which means y/n will be too... soon. anyways, hope you like this and sending everyone hugs esp after the shitshow that was the aus gp (justice for carlos!!)

warning/s: a bit sad??? longer than i expected it would be but yes

If you would've blinked then I would've Looked away at the first glance If you tasted poison, you could've Spit me out at the first chance And if I was some paint, did it splatter On a promising grown man? And if I was a child, did it matter If you got to wash your hands?

The rest of your time in Monaco was spent coordinating with your team on possible moves forward in F1. Come Tuesday morning, you and Abi were on the way to your home country, a half-assed plan and bundle of nerves in your hands.

“It’ll be alright. You’ve got a kickass mom who’ll drag Christian’s ass to court and back if she has to and you also have me. You know I got your back— even if it means breaking a law or two.” Abi says, squeezing your hand twice as you make your way to your family home.

“For legal reasons, that was a joke.” you chuckle.

“Please, I’ll even help you bury the body.” your mom replies, giving you a small wink from the driver's seat.

You shake your head as you smile, the familiarity of the scenery as well as the playful conversations with your mom and Abi bring you a sense of comfort you had missed. It’s good to be home.

When your mom had pulled up to the driveway, your grandparents were already waiting by the door, a small banner written “welcome back home girls!” in your Nana’s penmanship.

“I missed you guys so much.” you almost cry out as you reach in for a hug.

“Our little racer isn’t so little anymore.” Nana coos.

“We watched your race in Austria, sweetheart. Almost forgot how much of a softie you actually are when I saw you drive.” Papa teases.

“Don’t tell outsiders that she’s a softie, we have a reputation to uphold over here.” Abi pipes, tone going high as she struggles with her bag.

“As if everyone doesn’t know that she’s a softie.” Nana says as she rolls her eyes affectionately.

You all chuckle as you finally make your way inside, Nana noting that she would have supper set up at 6pm.

The rest of the afternoon was spent settling in your respective rooms. Wandering around as you take in your surroundings, a picture frame on your dresser catches your attention.

The 2017 British Grand Prix.

Oh, God. If only you knew.

Oh, oh All I used to do was pray Would've, could've, should've If you'd never looked my way

You placed third at the Formula 2 British Grand Prix. Ahead of you was Charles Leclerc and your teammate, Norman Nato, respectively.

“You know, if he weren’t so cute, I would definitely be screaming at him for overtaking you like that.” Abi mutters as she hands you a towel.

“Please, we both know you’d probably use that as an excuse to make a move.” you playfully scoff as you wipe your face.

“I would,” she shrugs, “but I’m rooting for your enemies to lovers love story”.

“Oh, Abi.” you sigh, “Where did you get that idea?”

“Please, you’ve seen the way he looks when you pass by.” she giggles as she mocks what you assume were lovestruck eyes.

“Quit it. He doesn’t like me like that. He just” you pause, “has that charm.”

“Sure,” she grins, “but when you guys end up together, I’ll be mentioning this moment in my Maid of Honor speech.”

Before you can protest, Kenny Kirwan, your team manager, clears his throat behind you.

“Y/n, Abi, I’d like to introduce you to Christian Horner, the team principal of Red Bull Racing.” he tilts his head to his right.

“Christian, This is Y/n, this is our driver I’ve been telling you about. We’re lucky to have her in our team.” he continues, his smile faltering as you remain stoic.

“Hi. I’m Abi. Her social media manager and best friend.” Abi speaks up, breaking the awkward silence. She extends her hand, eyes darting between the two of you.

“Nice to meet you.” he grins, shaking her hand. “Congrats on second, by the way. I’m so proud of you.” he looks at you, engulfing you in what you suspect was one of those weird man clap hugs.

“Oh! Uh, thank you.” you smile, immediately pulling away. “I didn’t think you would watch my races.”

“I try to. You’ve been progressing well.” he comments.

“Planning to win the championship, so, you know, gotta get those points.” you reply, shifting your weight between your legs.

“You can do it. You are your father’s daughter after all.” he smirks.

“Uhuh.” you wince.

Kenny does his best to ease the tension, raving about how he discovered your talent and how much potential you have to further in Formula 1.

“Well, it’s been lovely catching up with you but we really have to go. We promised Lorelei we’d be home before late to celebrate.” Abi interrupts.

“Oh! Of course.” he smiles awkwardly. “Um, before you go, maybe you’d want to go to the race tomorrow? I’d love to have you as my guest.”

“Sure. I’d like that. Abi’s my plus one.” you reply. “If that’s okay.” you quickly add, to which he smiles.

“Of course. Well, I’ll go ahead. Gotta get ready for FP3 and quali. You still have the same number?” Christian asks.

All you do is nod as he walks away, a dumbfounded Kenny following suit.

“Wait ‘til your mom hears about this.” Abi breaks you out of your trance, yanking your arm to lead you to your room.

I would've stayed on my knees And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil At nineteen And the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts Memories feel like weapons And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering

As it turns out, Formula 1 had a completely different vibe from Formula 2; the screams were louder, the air was hotter and everyone seemed more tense. However, no one was as tense as you.

“I don’t know Abi.” you sigh, your hands gripping the wheel. “What if it’s worse than yesterday?” you turn to look at her.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” she asks, eyes trained on the mirror as she applies yet another layer of lip gloss.

“His wife can hate me. I get run over. I run over someone. I make a fool out of myself in the paddock. I unintentionally ruin my chances of ever becoming a Formula 1 driver which will then stop me from achieving my dream of becoming a Formula 1 World Champion.” your grip tightening as you ramble on.

Abi glances at your hands, sensing that you were about to slip into one of your spirals. She immediately grabs a hold of those and squeezes twice. Breathe In.

“She’ll love you. You won’t be on the track. You won’t be driving. You can always apologize and flash your adorable smile. I won’t let you ruin your chances. You will become a formula 1 driver. You will become world champion. It’s going to be fun, trust me” her hands squeezing yours twice again. Breathe Out.

“Fuck it. Okay. Let’s do this.” you mutter, quickly closing your windows and stepping out of your car.

The two of you pass through the gates, feeling a bit out of place and out of your element as a guest. Christian gave the two of you a tour of the Red Bull hospitality, introducing you to the crew while at it. Although they all seemed nice, your stomach churned every time surprise would flash their face when Christian introduced you as his daughter.

When time was nearing the race, he excused himself to look for his drivers. Abi left as well, muttering something about finding the ladies’ room. That left you standing alone in a corner of the garage, too shy to add on to the hustle and bustle of the race day.

“You look lonely, want some company?” you hear a voice to your right.

“Oh! Um, sure. If you want.” you reply, flustered.

“Okay.” he heartily laughs, “So, are you here for a sponsor or something?” he asks.

“A personal guest? I think.” you chuckle, “It’s complicated.”

“Well, complicated, nice to meet you. I’m Daniel.” he grins, offering you his hand to shake.

“I actually know who you are.” you smile back as you shake his hand, “Not that I stalk you or anything! I’ve watched a few of your races.”

“I’m a driver too. Well, currently in Formula 2.” you continue, embarrassment tinging your cheeks, “Y/n y/l/n”.

“Oh no, more young drivers!” he dramatically gasps, “Another reminder that I’m aging.”

“You don’t look a day over 70!” you joke, face immediately paling when you realize what you just said. “Oh God! I’m so-”, your apology cut off by Daniel's laughter.

“Oh, I like you. You’re funny.” he breathily sighs. “We can be friends now.”

“So sense of humor is part of your friendship checklist?” you tease, mentally thanking whichever angel God sent you. “Sadly you didn’t tick that box on mine.”

“Okay,” he pouts his lips. “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” you roll your eyes.

“Chickens.”

“Chickens who?”

“Enkkk.” he voices out, mimicking a buzzer. “Owls hoot, chickens cluck.”

You purse your lips. “A for effort. We should be friends so we can work on your sense of humor, grandpa.”

Daniel scoffs and places his hands on his chest, feigning hurt.

“Daniel!” someone hollers. “Mate, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Damn it.” Daniel chuckles. “I really thought I was gonna win at hide and seek this week.”

“Christian says we have to go over some notes before the race” he goes on, clueless to your presence.

“Well, it seems I have to bid you adieu.” Daniel turns to you, bowing to add to your amusement. “Till next time, mademoiselle.”

Daniel leaves, heading to what you guess is their meeting room. The stranger follows him, sending you a sheepish smile, presumably his form of apology for interrupting your conversation. You wave him off with a smile, shouting a quick “Good luck!” as they pass.

If you never touched me, I would've Gone along with the righteous If I never blushed, then they could've Never whispered about this And if you never saved me from boredom I could've gone on as I was But, Lord, you made me feel important And then you tried to erase us

Despite both of the Red Bulls not being able to set foot on the podium, the garage still celebrated points; P4 for Daniel and P5 for his teammate, Max. Daniel, being Mister Congeniality, insisted (quite ruthlessly) that you come to the afterparty. This is how you and Abi ended up back in your room, flipping out over outfit options.

“I think we need to find you the perfect ensemble that screams I’m classy but I can be a slut if I want to.” Abi shouts from inside your closet, another batch of dresses being thrown towards the growing pile on the floor.

“I can’t look like a slut, Abi. My father might be there.” You mutter, setting up your makeup at the vanity.

As much as it bothered you, you knew better than to try to clean while Abi rummaged through your clothes. She once gave you an earful, going on about how messy people are creative geniuses. Thus, the artist shall not be disturbed.

“We’re trying to attract a driver and a driver’s seat, not your father. ” she gags, head peeking out of the closet. “Have you seen the way that Max guy looked at you?”.

“No, because I’m not looking at him.” you turn away. “Besides, I thought you were rooting for a certain Monegasque.”

“I am, but it's rude to disregard other contenders.” she shrugs, passing you a little black dress. “I think this is it. Max will definitely keep his eyes on you tonight.”

Just as always, Abi was right. When you had finally arrived at the pub, Max immediately spotted you, nudging Daniel towards your direction.

“Glad you can make it, mademoiselle.” Daniel greets you, reenacting his bow from earlier that day.

“Good evening, Sire.” you curtsy in response.

“May I escort thee to thy party chambers?” he continues his act, mimicking a posh accent you’ve mostly heard in period dramas.

“I’d be most delighted, o good Sir.” you nod, locking arms with him and Abi with the other. “I’d like to introduce my companion. Sir Daniel, meet Lady Abigail.”

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Abigail.” he waves with his free hand.

“You guys are crazy.” Abi snorts. “But likewise, Sir Daniel.”

He leads the two of you to a booth, excusing himself to get the two of you a drink. Max was still seated at the same spot, nursing a half empty bottle of beer.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your conversation with Daniel before the race and for not introducing myself then.” he sheepishly smiles at you. “I’m Max.”

“Y/n, and no worries about that. It was a busy time.” you smile back. “This is my friend by the way, Abi.”

“Congrats on P5.” she nods at him, eyes immediately darting back to the crowd.

Before Max could get another word in, Daniel returns with drinks in his hands.

“Three margaritas for the lovely ladies and myself.” he gives a cheeky smile while passing out the drinks. “Another beer for Max.”

The four of you spent the night getting to know each other better. Halfway through your drinks, Daniel excuses himself to mingle with other guests. Abi excuses herself as well, saying she needs to get water but you later catch her wink at you while a guy talks her up at the bar. That bitch (affectionately).

“So, you come to races often?” Max asks, shifting your attention back to him.

“Mostly busy with my own but I watch you guys from time to time.” you smile.

“You race too?” he chokes on his drink.

“Currently in Formula 2, yes.” Handing him a tissue, you chuckle. “I kinda take offense at your shock.”

“Sorry, it’s just that-” he starts off, wiping off his lips. “I think it’s best if you don’t finish that sentence.” you giggle. “So, Max, how long have you been racing?”

“Well, pretty much ever since my dad thought I was old enough to start.” he mutters.

“So, since you were in the womb?” you joke.

“Pretty much.” he laughs. “You?”

“Similar. Got into it because of my dad as well but continued for myself.” you look down and fidget with your rings.

“Anyways,” he clears his throat. “What’s your favorite team?”

“Ferrari.” you grin. “Big Vettel fan here.”

“You were hanging out in the wrong garage then.” he muses. “Any way I can switch you over to my side?”

“I can be convinced,” you tease. “if given enough incentive.”

“How about I convince you over dinner?” he asks.

“Bold ask.” you giggle. “I’d have to think about that.”

Oh, oh You're a crisis of my faith Would've, could've, should've If I'd only played it safe

At that time, it seemed like the world was working in your favor. You had three consecutive podiums in Hungaroring, Spa and Monza. To add to the excitement, all of those races coincided with that of the F1 calendar, giving you more chances to hang out in the Red Bull garages.

The highlight, though, would be Monza. After winning first place, Christian invited you to breakfast to celebrate and “make up for lost time”. Abi, being the perfect balance of tough love and unending support, decided it’d be best for you to go alone, much to your dismay. You paced back and forth in the hallway, making a mental list of things to not bring up. Your thoughts come to a halt when you hear the click of the door, revealing Geri on her way out.

“Y/n! Christian’s inside. You can just head in.” she smiles, hand holding the doorknob.

“Oh, okay.” you breathe out. “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“It’s alright.” she chuckles. “He’s nervous too if that’s any consolation.”

“A little.” you giggle. “Um, I hope it’s not an intrusion. Me being here, I mean.”

“That’s nonsense!” she exclaims. “I just thought it’d be better for the two of you to talk things out alone. But, if you’re open to it, I’d love to get to know you better as well.”

“I’d like that.” you exhale. “Well, I think I should head in.”

“Of course.” she laughs, moving towards the lift. Turning around she says, “He’s trying, you know.”

Not knowing what to say, you offer a smile and head inside their room.

“Honey, do you think she’d want more food? Or is this enough?” you hear him shout.

Heading towards the dining area, you chuckle. “She left already. But, if you’re planning to feed the entire grid, maybe we can order more food.”

“Y/n.” he grins. “It’s lovely to see you.”

“You too.” you mutter, taking a seat opposite him.

“So,” he clears his throat. “I saw you win yesterday, congratulations!”

“Thanks.” you beam. “I heard you guys got P2 and P3 for quali. Must be looking forward to this race huh?”

“Quite.” he hands you a plate of waffles. “You still like this, right?”

“You remembered.” you gasp. “Even the strawberries and bananas.”

“I checked with your mom to make sure I got it right.” his cheeks tinges with embarrassment. “Gotta feed next year’s potential F1 driver well.”

“What?” your jaw drops. “Formula 1?”

“I introduced you to Franz Tost for a reason. He told me he’d love to have you in Toro Rosso next year.” he muses. “Maybe after that, you’d be racing for Red Bull.”

“HOLY SHIT!” you scream. “Is this for real?”

“Yes. It is.” he chuckles.

“Wait, who’s leaving?” you pause.

“Well, you’ll be taking Daniil’s seat. Carlos is moving to Renault for the last few races which leaves you, hopefully, and Pierre to complete the team next year.”

“Will they still be racing next year?” you ask.

“Carlos will be with Renault and I’m still unsure about Kvyat.” he says. “So, thoughts?”

“I’d have to discuss it with my team but personally, it’d be an honor.”

If clarity's in death, then why won't this die? Years of tearing down our banners, you and I Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

You get up from your bed, hands still clutching the picture frame. Based on the dark view outside your window, you assume you overslept, completely missing supper. You tuck the frame in a random drawer. Out of sight, out of mind.

You make your way to the kitchen, moving quietly to not wake anyone else up. You almost scream when you see your grandpa sitting on a barstool, a faint light casting a shadow.

“Why are you up so late?” you clutch your chest, trying to calm your heart.

“Just thinking, you know.” he mutters. “Worrying about you.”

“Oh Pa, I’m alright.” you hug him, taking a seat at his side. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, kiddo.” he breathes out. “I heard you crying earlier. I know you’re not fine.”

You sit there in silence. Although you were raised so open to emotions, you still had trouble expressing your own, worried about worrying others.

“When you had your first accident during your karting days, I freaked out. I almost had your mom pull you out, thinking that the sport was too much for you.” he starts. “Then, on our way to the car, you walked up to me and Nan and said, ‘look Pa! I have battle marks! I can go against the tough ones now!’. You had tears in your eyes and a bruise on your leg and arm, but you looked so happy.”

He grabs both of your hands, rubbing his thumbs across the back. “I knew then I didn’t have to protect you, not because you didn’t need it. God knows I tried my best to do that. But, you didn’t want it. You were so good on your own.”

“Not to be a sexist asshole but there were times when I wished you chose a more common hobby. Ballet, piano, anything that didn’t have a high risk of me losing you.” he breathes out. “It wasn’t just the physical aspect too. I just- I see complete strangers say just cruel things about you and how you started losing bits of yourself.”

“You’ve grown, but I used to be able to still see that little racer in her braids and a goofy smile with a missing tooth. Now, it’s like you turned into this machine. I get that it’s a tough sport but I worry you will lose your heart and spirit.”

“I- ” you sniffle, “I love racing. I know that.”

“I can see myself doing this for the rest of my life but right now I feel so lost.” you continue. “I never would’ve imagined being this close to achieving my dreams and now it’s gone.”

“And it’s silly. Like, I know I have mom. I have you and Nan. Abi too.” you breathe in. “But he should’ve been part of my life as well. He’s not just mom’s friend from college who knocked her up. He’s my father.”

Although your tears start to flow, you continue. “As much as his absence hurt, I still tried. I gave up my childhood and other dreams I had to be here.”

“The worst part of it all was me thinking I finally got what I wanted. That I finally had a dad.” you exhale. “Then he sold my femininity to the world then threw me away.”

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind I regret you all the time I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign I regret you all the time Oh, God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind I regret you all the time I can't let this go, I fight with you in my sleep The wound won't close, I keep on waiting for a sign

Heading to the track felt like hell, dread filled your stomach and your hands were clammy with sweat. For your sake, Abi had ensured you wouldn’t get any press time and to your surprise, the teams agreed. Thinking about it now, you assume it was to save their dwindling reputation. Although your social battery was at an all time low, you still stopped to interact with your fans on your way to and from the paddock. As genuine as your gratitude was, your smile and thank you’s were visibly forced.

Everyone knew what this race weekend meant to you. You’ve been looking forward to racing in Silverstone, making it your goal of the season to go on the podium at your home race in your dream team. However, that seems like something only possible in an alternate reality. Despite Max’s pleas of you staying in Red Bull, you refused. You didn’t even bother telling him about your shift back to Toro Rosso or that you had moved out of his place. He’ll find out one way or another.

Thankfully, your schedule and distance from their garage minimized your interactions with certain members of the Red Bull team. Nevertheless, keeping true to your promise, you invited Daniel and a couple other drivers to meals in between practices, doing your best to front a “I’m doing better than you think” facade. You even reached out to Alex Albon, making it clear that there is no bad blood between you and that his replacement isn’t something you took personally.

Come Sunday morning, you have grown accustomed to your new (or old) team. Staring at the mirror gave you a sense of deja vu; the bold text of “Red Bull” across your suit mocked you. Wiping off a few stray tears, you can’t help but think about yourself from a year ago and what she would’ve thought about your situation. Would she laugh at the irony or would she cry with you?

You turn around when you hear a faint knock. Abi peeks in, a small smile gracing her face. “It’s almost race time. Are you ready?”

“Fuck no.”

a/n: as always, would love to hear your thoughts so feedback is more than welcome (but please be kind) !!! to all that shared their love for Dear Reader, you have my heart and i hope this part did not disappoint 🫂 took a while to get here (seriously wrote a long ass piece then completely changed everything but ohwell) and i think i’m happy with the direction so far?? also, please let me know if you want to be part of the taglist or if it’s not working (still unsure abt how this works but i shall figure it out!)

taglist: @lighttsoutlewis @holy-macncheese-balls @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @idkiwantchocolatee @dan3avocado @aquamariene-me

#red bull racing #dear reader #would've could've should've #midnights #F1 #f1 x reader #F1 drivers #Max Verstappen #max verstappen x reader

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bitchinbarzal · 6 months

Note

I don’t picture Timo and mama as being the type of parents who push Lio’s face into every camera and blog about his daily life but I also don’t think they keep him hidden. Probably a very even and healthy balance but imagine one day some gossip magazine gets a hold of private pictures of their little family (maybe in Switzerland where they’re even more secluded) and before either Timo or mama know the paparazzi are waiting outside the prudential center waiting for Timo and when he gets home he and mama have a big blow up fight.

They say things they don’t mean because they feel violated and also guilty as parents (even though it wasn’t their fault) and when mama says that maybe it was bound to happen because he’s an athlete and she’s a singer he’s so frustrated that he turns it all on her “I play hockey. Before I met you only hockey fans knew who I was and that’s it you’re the one with your face plastered everywhere and you’re the reason anyone cares about our marriage and why our son has no privacy. It’s your fault.”

He knows it’s a mistake and wrong when he says it but it’s been bottling up, the comments on his Instagram, the interview questions about not just his wife but his wife ‘the celebrity’ and the people he swears are hiding in bushes with cameras.

He doesn’t really blame her and he wants to apologize as soon as the words leave his mouth but because Lio is at Nico’s for a play date mama starts to tear up and she waves away any attempt he makes at apologizing and leaves their house. Because she already felt like it was her fault but now the one person who she thought was always on her side also blames her and she doesn’t know what to do now.

“I know we are mad but T this was bound to happen! We are both in the public eye!” You cry and he lets out a low groan

“No! No, before I met you I was nobody to the paparazzi! Nobody cared, only the fans then i met you and suddenly everyone knows where I get my coffee from, they know everything about our marriage and fuck Y/N, the know about our son!”

You want to defend yourself but he continues

“You are the reason he has no privacy! You brought this upon this family, it’s your fault! We should’ve thought about this before we got married, before we had kids!”

He wants to take it back when he sees the tears in your eyes, the way your bottom lip quivers.

“Scha-“

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this!” You sob, holding your hand up to stop him and heading out the room.

He is stood there, in silence wondering what he just did. He can hear your gut wrenching cries and he feels horrible.

In the bathroom, you sit on the edge of the bathtub sobbing into your hands while leaning towards the toilet knowing your making yourself cry so much you’ll be sick.

All Timo can hear from the hallway is you crying “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” between your gagging and tears.

He is in the hallway feeling so bad for what happened while you’re in the bathroom thinking about his words, how you put your son in this horrible position.

All while the test you’d taken that morning sat right on the countertop clear as day telling you, you were having your second baby and Timo had just insinuated you shouldn’t have even had your first.

#timo x singer!reader

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claiestve · 3 months

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐬 / 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 ꨄ Isaac

˜”* ❝𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙬.❞

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴏɴ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ.

⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯

It has been a few months and you’ve adjusted well. You knew where the cameras were, their blindspots, and parts where Isaac could see you. You were familiar with where the creeks in the woods were. All you had to do was finish what you started. Get the information, make physical copies, and get out. You already had a source, you just needed to wait for Isaac to get out of the way.

You’ve been making him sleep earlier and didn’t allow him to do anything that would keep him awake for even an extra minute. Nothing would’ve worked if he stayed awake at normal hours.

Tonight, it’s 11 PM, you’ve forced Isaac to go to sleep a bit earlier than every other night. The plan was, to print everything and move on to the next step.

“Y/N?”

Isaac. Why was he awake? You made sure to put him to sleep.

“Isaac? Why are you up?” You use your voice to distract from you slowly putting stuff away.

“I needed to talk to you. I mean, I know it’s late but this has been on my mind for hours.”

If you wanted him to cooperate, you had to listen.

“What do you need to tell me?” You walk away from the printer, hoping you remembered not to leave it on.

“I just… there’s something about you, you know?”

Was he catching on? Uh, hello, that’s not good!

“Y/N, I hope I don’t regret saying this but I thought this through,” He starts again, “I think after all this time, I trust you. I feel like I can go to you, even if I don’t want to.”

You catch yourself staring at him in disbelief. How could you not? You were confused and only here for one thing.

Isaac notices your silence and continues.

“I have felt things that I haven’t felt in years and with you, it feels so natural which is why…”

He takes your hands into his and takes a deep breath.

“I love you.”

“You what?”

You thought it was a joke, like, one of those sick sick jokes. As much as you could believe that, you knew Isaac wouldn’t joke like that.

“Isaac,” You started to talk.

The sound of loud clicking and clattering starts.The printer. You never turned it off. Of course, you didn’t! You would’ve been better off running out of the house in front of him than whatever this was.

“Why’s the printer on?” Isaac moves his head to look past you.

“Oh! I probably accidentally turned it on when I was cleaning that area!”

“Ah, that makes sense.” He gets up to turn it off but he sees…

He sees all

“Y/N.”

Of the pictures

“Why…”

Of all that information

“Are you printing…”

Printed out.

“All of this?”

He looks at you, waiting for an answer, and sighs.

“What the hell is going on?! Why are you printing this classified information out?!”

You look at him, frozen.

“Say something! Why are you actually here?!”

“Isaac.”

“Is this why you’ve been making me sleep early? You don’t care about me, do you?”

“Please–”

“Do you?!”

He grabs the papers and holds them up before ripping them before you. Your eyes widened as you saw little scraps of the papers falling to the floor. What would your boss think? You went into this so confident of your skills and this… love confession blew it.

“I want you out of my house by the morning.”

“Isaac, we can talk about this,” You reach your arm out.

He moves your hand away, “I take you in and this is how I get repaid? I should’ve left you where I found you. Were you even struggling?”

“No…”

He scoffs and guides you away from his office.

“Get whatever sleep you need and get out of my house before I wake up.”

“Isaac, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to but–”

“But what? You’re in my home. I determine your place in it.”

He starts to walk away but you grab his wrist. You seriously needed to walk out of this house with the physical copies you were asked to get.

He turned around and pushed you away, “Y/N, stop touching me! You’re lucky I’m even allowing you to sleep here tonight!”

Isaac gets closer to you just to get louder.

You didn’t know what to do other than…

“Forgive me.”

You pulled out a pocket knife from your pocket and pierced his stomach, the same spot where he’d been stabbed before. Isaac grabs you for support before falling to the floor. He stares into your eyes and all you can see is that look that he has been betrayed by someone he loves. Well, he did.

Leaving the house, you took what you needed and left someone who loved you to bleed on the floor he allowed you to walk on.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

hey... how yall doin 😃

#zsakuva #asmr #zsakuvaxreader #sakuverse #isaac #isaacrhodes #angst #ily #sorry yall

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clonerightsagenda · 9 months

Text

Sick

We're most of the way through disability pride month and I'm not sure if I'll ever finish this WIP because I'm stuck over how literal to make some of the elements. So, I am posting it because I am curious if any of the weirdness resonates with other people. Enjoy my magical disability cure codependent haunting thing, and also I am going to post a rambling author's note about it.

The morning after the surgery, your Sick is sitting at the kitchen table. It looks good, for a corpse. It’s wearing the ‘I love dying and being dead’ t-shirt you joked about buying two diagnoses ago, pulled over a laced-shut hospital gown.

“What?” it asks. “You had more of a sense of humor when you were sick.”

The doctors warned you that your neurochemistry might be out of balance. You’re adjusting to the sudden lifting of brain fog after moving through the world in a protective cocoon of pharmaceuticals. They didn’t mention hallucinations.

“Think of me like a phantom limb.” Your Sick sips one of those awful plant-based protein drinks that still lurk in the back of your pantry. “Why did you do it?”

Talking to hallucinations probably makes them worse. You do it anyway. “You were killing me.”

“This world is killing you. But you finished yourself off first.”

You sit down across from it in one effortless motion. “That’s not what happened.”

“Right. I’m the enemy. So it doesn’t matter if I’m rotting at the bottom of a biohazard bin.” It considers you. “What’s it like not to hurt?”

What is it like? You’d woken up and lain there for a while, waiting. “Like holding my breath.”

“You’re in charge of all that now.” It nods, the motion referencing the length of your body. “Need to stay on top of it.”

“Like I need advice from you,” you say, but you blink, and the phantom’s gone.

60,000 pieces of microplastic. 7.2 micrograms per liter of per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances. 1:640 antinuclear antibody titer.

That's what they peel you out of. A second nervous system of petroleum products and misfiring T cells, the stuff that's been running your life via mob rule for a decade. They tell you that you weigh five grams less now.

They tell you, don't be surprised if at first it feels like something is missing.

I thought that was just for rich people, your friend says. She messaged you to remind you to take your meds, and you told her that you would never have to take your meds again. Celebrities and politicians.

Work decided it was cheaper to fix me than replace me, you message back. Score one for being essential.

Perks of your top-secret job.

I promise it's boring. Critical infrastructure usually is.

Did you look?

Some people share post-op pictures. They’re usually underwhelming if you don’t know what to look for - the subtle swelling over an aggravated nerve, hints of boniness in the knuckles. Shadows of bruises that never go away. No. I should’ve, though. I asked for hospital socks when they were prepping me but then obviously after I didn’t have them anymore. Who knows if I’ll get another chance.

You might be finished with surgeries forever and you’re disappointed because you can’t get any more grippy socks.

I'll miss the warm blankets too.

Your Sick crawled inside you when you were nineteen years old. It wouldn’t let you get out of bed.

“Help,” it croaked.

Your roommate (only your roommate then) came the second time it called. She was in her pajamas, her hair a dark tangle. You never asked for her help, even when your hands got so sore you couldn’t open jars without five minutes of struggle. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel right,” it said.

Her face softened. “I thought you looked rough yesterday. I don’t have class this morning; do you want me to make something? Call anybody?”

No, you tried to say. I can handle it.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” your Sick said instead.

You had been putting it off. The doctor meant admitting something was wrong, meant – most importantly – a $30 copay. But healthy people never understand when you try to tell them. At a certain point, your body stops being yours.

Your Sick turned up its nose at greasy slices of campus pizza. It politely but firmly refused invitations for a night out. It sanded the branching tree of your life into a wooden sphere it could cup in the palm of its hand.

“You’re ruining my life,” you told the mirror.

It tilted your head. You read your own confusion. “I’m protecting you.”

“Mask,” your Sick says from behind you. It looks worse today – skin gone gray and patchy, with a shimmer of microplastic shards risen to the surface like body glitter. The shine complements the sequined mask secured over its own face.

You scowl, bag swung over one shoulder. You haven’t gone out since the surgery – you can work from home, you haven’t canceled grocery delivery yet – and now that you’re venturing through your front door, the phantom is back. You had reached for one of the masks on the table by the door before dropping it back into the bowl. “I don’t need it now.”

“So respiratory diseases don’t exist anymore? Dumbass.”

The objection reminds you of your own aggrieved complaints: why don’t people plan events with us in mind, don’t they know how many people there are with immune systems one shove away from collapsing, the world’s not getting any safer.

That was your Sick talking. You don’t have to worry anymore.

“You weren’t doing a good job taking care of me before, and you’re not doing a good job of it now.”

Its eyebrows rise. Black liquid has seeped through the cloth of its mask. “And fuck everyone else like you?”

“Like you,” you say, and slam the door in its face.

Outside, the breeze brushes your cheeks. You don’t have to sit down because you miscalculated the balance of meds and breakfast. You start to scan your surroundings for bathrooms, just in case, and then dismiss the impulse because you’re fine.

You’re better than that.

Three hours in, you realize you’ve been curling your fingers into a fist and then opening them again. You only notice because the joints start to ache. It feels familiar.

Nothing else does.

A notification flashes in the corner of your screen. There’s new activity in one of the forum conversations you’ve been following.

It’s rich people doing what they always do. Wreck the planet? It’s fine, we can get a new one! Wreck your body? It’s fine, we can get a new one of that too. There’s no incentive to improve the situation if you can buy your way out of the problem.

I’d buy my way out too, but there’s no way I could afford it

Then you’d eat your first plastic salad and get sick again. See what I mean?

The new ones are supposed to be more resilient

But it’s not yours

Remember any theological debates go in the quarantine thread

I don’t mean it like that. I just think you’re interfering with your relationship with your body, and that’s a fundamental part of who you are, right? Whether or not a s*ul exists

There’s not a bot monitoring this thread. You don’t have to censor it.

Sorry, habit

Mod is human, asterisks don’t stop me. But they are a screenreader issue, so please edit your post.

You used to frequent disability forums. They had useful resources. Jokes, too, like the t-shirt your Sick wears over its hospital gown. But you can’t understand the people who embrace their disfunction. You took a time-honored approach to your medical misfortune. Cancer. Pregnancy. Demonic possession. Petrochemicals. There is something inside me, and I want it out.

These people helped you, but you don’t need them anymore. So instead of saying anything, you log off the forum for the last time.

You do tell your coworkers, who are excited for you. They pester you with questions over Slack: How long did it take? Did you look? Does it hurt?

Your boss messages you, When can you come back to the office?

You frown at the screen. The work you’ve been doing from home is good – better than what you’ve produced for years now that your head is clear. But your boss has always been old fashioned. Remote work was a concession that there’s no justification for now.

Monday, if you want, you type back.

That gets you an immediate thumbs up reaction, followed by, We’re all so glad you’re ok.

That chafes you in a spot rubbed raw. Everyone assumes once the problem they know about has been addressed, everything else must be resolved too. You must be ok.

Which you are, this time.

Your best friend comes to visit. She brings beers you couldn’t drink with your meds and a greasy pizza that settles in your stomach like a snake planning to strike later. It tastes amazing – you run your tongue over your teeth to capture the last traces of salty richness and tell yourself next time your body will recognize good food.

She’s spent the whole visit on your sofa. You have an air mattress from when she used to sleep on your floor while you were recovering from surgeries. She hasn’t asked you to bring it out, and you’re not sure how to ask if she’s staying. Instead you keep stealing glances at her, the curve of her cheek that’s the first thing you’d see when you looked over the side of your bed in the middle of the night, the hands that have held your hair back from the toilet bowl and now rest on her lap.

She keeps looking at you too. You wonder if she sees a difference.

After the silence and sidelong glances build into an itchy layer on your skin, you lean over, clutch the front of her shirt, and kiss her. She freezes and then kisses you back, gingerly, the way you'd investigate an unexpected bruise. There’s pizza grease on both your lips. Rich and unfamiliar.

You’re the one who pulls away. "I'm sorry," you say. "That's not what I want."

She’s stiff under her softness, like an examination table. "I didn’t think so. I didn't think you did that kind of thing."

You don’t. It’s the silence. Your empty floor. Her hands, resting on her lap. "I just thought…” you try. “That kind of closeness is enough for everyone else."

Your fingers are still clenched in her shirt. She looks at them until you untangle them, one by one. The knuckles don’t ache.

She shakes her head. "It's like you don't want to be better."

“That went well,” your Sick says after the door swings shut.

“It’s your fault.”

It tilts its head on a neck that’s looser than it should be. “I didn’t do anything.”

It’s right. When you were sick you could request a shoulder rub to loosen tight muscles or hike up your shirt, no seduction, no bullshit, to ask if that rash looked bad. You could open your mouth and let the truth of your predicament outweigh prudishness or shame.

You don’t know how to ask people to touch you anymore.

It leans in close. “You need me,” it says. Oil bubbles over its lips and slicks its chin. “I was always your excuse.”

That weekend you watch your phone sit silent on the table, no pings from forum posts or medication reminders. Your Sick drifts over. It’s no longer a rotting corpse leaking garbage. It looks dead in the way you used to whenever you looked in the mirror.

Wherever it is in the real world, it doesn’t look like that anymore. From what you remember from the booklets they gave you, it’s already gone.

“Not going to explain yourself, huh?” asks your hallucination. Your haunting.

You shrug. What would you say to her? I took away the foundation of my life and don’t know what’s underneath. You only started being my friend when I needed help, so what’s left for us? There was always another medication or appointment or symptom but now everything’s fine and I’m still holding my breath.

You’ve gotten used to letting someone else talk for you.

“I was killing you,” it says.

That’s what you said. You look at the lines around its eyes and imagine a billion tiny swords raised against invaders that poured in every time you took a breath to light your joints up with friendly fire. “You were protecting me.”

“I was the worst part of you.”

“You were.” You flex your perfect, painless fingers. “Do I miss it?”

It grins and leans against the back of your chair, wrapping chilly arms around your waist. “I just wanted to make you say it.”

The grip around your belly aches in a way you recognize. Dull pain that makes its home in you. Cozy as curling up in bed with a headache. You look back at your silent phone. “Which one of us did she come here for?”

“Only one way to find out.”

You could reach out, but you don’t move. You have never known how to ask for help.

Your Sick sighs. It loosens its grip and reaches over your shoulder to lace corpse-cool fingers between yours. Then it lifts your combined hands in a swoop like the first dose of anesthesia, when the orderlies wheel you away and everything is out of your control. “Come on,” she says. Her breath is a puff of disinfectant on your cheek. “Let’s do it like we used to.”

After you came out of the anesthesia, the surgeons asked if you wanted to see your old body. You said no. You’d spent long enough inside it – it was something you wanted to leave behind. Besides, even after all the pamphlets and counseling sessions, you worried seeing your vacant face would jar something loose. Convince you like those cranks on the disability forums that you’d severed a connection that was irrevocable.

If you could do it again, you’d say yes. Step inside the morgue – no, they wouldn’t have moved it to the morgue yet, they’d want you to have a better venue to say goodbye – and catalogue the subtle changes only you could see. The swollen knuckles, flushed cheeks. All the other differences locked inside.

You imagine bending down and lifting the body the way it lifted you once, cradling its head in the crook of your arm. Imagine kissing your Sick and feeling poisonous tendrils creep down your throat to coat your insides with grime.

You imagine saying, welcome home.

(Author's note)

#kat writes

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thiswasneverthat · 2 years

Photo

stray kids as your ex-boyfriend

Genre: Angst, smut

A/n: It’s the second part for maknae line!

Part I.

Han

The dearest childhood friend of yours.

He had a huge ass crush on you since high school (or probably middle school) but he only confessed it in the second year of college.

He went on an exchange student program abroad in his third year.

The two of you then decided to take a break while he was still aboard.

He called you almost every night. Both phone calls and video calls.

"Have you ever tried phone sex?"

You were unsure at first but because you also miss him, you were willing to try.

One night when you were still outside with friends, he texted you, "Miss ex-gf, my cock is so fucking hard, please call me soon."

But you ignored his text.

Then a few minutes later he sent you a picture of him laying down naked in bed, hand gripping his cock, his own cum spread out around his lower abdomen and thighs.

"Fuck you." You texted him back and immediately went home to spend the night on a video call with him.

Felix

The sweetest guy next door.

Brought you cookies and brownies when he first moved into the apartment unit next to yours.

Even after two years of dating, he still gives you butterflies cause he was the sweetest guy ever.

"Please tell me if it hurts, I don't want to hurt you. Okay?" He said as he carefully drove his throbbing cock to your dripping cunt.

Always ask for your consent before he touches you or gives red marks on any part of your body.

Bake a cake for your birthday and make love to you after.

One drunken mistake, and the relationship comes to an end.

"I'm sorry, Lix. I made out with your friend. I was so drunk and I thought it was you."

He said it was fine and refused to end the relationship but you knew he doesn't deserve any of that.

On your next birthday, he still bakes you a cake. You initially refused but he insisted, saying that it's bad luck to reject a present.

"I still love you, you know?" He smiled sweetly after he gave you two orgasms that night, calling it another birthday present.

Seungmin

The stone-cold assistant professor.

You grudgingly begged him on your first encounter cause you failed an exam. You were reluctant but the professor said that's the only way to redemption.

"How could you be late to class knowing that you had an exam?" He asked with a sinister glare and instantly made you squirm.

A few months later, you found yourself kneeling in front of him, biting your lower lip as you wait for him to shove his cock inside your mouth.

"You should've begged me like this since the very first time and I'll give you an A for the exam."

He was just.. so unhinged. There's nothing normal that came out of his mouth.

Just like the moment when he said he want to break up. "I can't do this anymore. I have to prioritise my study."

You scoffed but accept his decision. Yet a few weeks later, he came to your apartment so late at night, and very very drunk.

"I shouldn't have left you. I got an average score for my exam and I freaked out." He admitted the next morning while nuzzling his nose against your neck, arms tightly wrapped around your stomach.

I.N

"Noona, can I take you on a date this weekend?"

He confidently asked you while you were ordering your usual cup of coffee before going to work.

And you can't say no because he was the cutest bartender in the coffee shop near your office.

"Noona, can you ride me? I love watching your tits bounce."

It never ceases to amaze you, the fact that someone with a face like hisㅡ has the dirtiest mouth.

Half and a year after you both started dating, he had to go back to his hometown because his parents wanted him to establish his own coffee shop there.

And that's the end of the relationship.

"You promised to visit next time, right, noona?"

And you did. You visited him on the summer holiday.

He introduced you to his parents as "my ex-girlfriend" and took you to stroll around the city.

Later that night, you both impatiently went to a nearby hotel because he can't stop touching you and kissing your neck.

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bluestripedspeedo · 2 years

Text

Indiscreet – 02. Suntory Time Pairing: Writer/Producer!Javi Gutierrez x you (Hollywood AU) SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: Javi and you live out one of your favorite movies and talk about your past. Chapter warning: So many filthy thoughts. 18+ only, please! There’s a 20-year age gap. You're a full adult in your mid-20s and you just met Javi last week. Plus some more single appearance OCs featured here + Dieter introduction. Word count: 6,6k

Playlist Alone in Kyoto - AIR Misty - Johnny Mathis Chances Are What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? - Ella Fitzgerald You're the Top Mia and Sebastian's Theme - Justin Hurwitz Manny and Nellie's Theme I Fall in Love Too Easily - Chet Baker I'm Thru with Love - Nat King Cole You Do Something to Me - Conal Fowkes

✧✧✧

DECEMBER

“Right this way, Mr. Morales, Mr. Gutierrez.”

You whip your head at the direction of the maître d’s voice, who’s walking towards you with Óscar and Javi right behind him. You arrived in Tokyo yesterday (it’s not like you had anything to do back home anyway) and spent the day revisiting your old favorite places. Luckily, Óscar’s costar that you were introduced to at Mira’s party was already here early too for some variety show appearances. You're currently nursing your drink alone at the bar after a full day out with her when Javi and Óscar make their entrance. Javi grins widely when he spots you and Óscar tells you to join their table. You almost say yes… but as much as you’d love to catch up, you honestly would rather pass out after three glasses of whiskey and excuse yourself to go back to your room instead. A couple of hours later, Javi calls you and coaxes you into being his tour guide for the time you’re here. By midnight, you already have the entire week planned.

Promptly at 9 the next morning he already waits for you at the lobby and dismisses his private chauffeured car after you scoffed at him for being “too celebrity”. “They have the best train system in the world here, what, is this your first time?” You know it probably isn’t, but you can’t help yourself from taking a dig at him.

“I just thought the car would get us there faster,” he says. “So we wouldn’t waste too much time walking.”

✧

“How do you not love walking here?” You say dramatically, making a show of inhaling the cold fresh air of the Imperial Gardens. Javi has to admit that he was let down at first when you suggested a crowded public park to start the day. It’s not that he didn’t think he’d feel safe without a driver or the place wasn’t beautiful, but he’d expected you to take him for a breakfast “date”... now he’s walking with a completely empty stomach and trying to hide his mild shivers. Maybe he should’ve suggested it himself earlier.

“Hmm, I never said that.” Javi replies.

“Right, right… if we’d taken your car though, I wouldn’t have seen that cute dog.” The park is a 15 minute walk from the hotel but it’s taken you more than 30 because you saw a very fluffy chow chow that you insisted on petting and taking pictures with.

“And if we had taken the car, you wouldn’t have tripped over… your left foot?” Javi teases. You were choosing filters to post a picture with said dog that you didn’t pay attention to where you were going. Javi grabbed your waist before you could even stumble, a contact that you were very much aware of.

“Okay, I’ll give you that.”

“And, it’s cold as fuck,” he says, letting go of your arm that’s linked to his to fix his scarf.

“I think you’re just old. Probably arthritis.”

“Argh, not again.”

“You are! Are your joints cracking yet? Do we need to–” You stop mid-sentence as you lose your footing again… and once again, Javi catches you by the arms just in time and holds you close to him.

“Don’t. laugh.” you say, suppressing your own.

Both of you burst into giggles. You look into his eyes, loving the sound of his laugh and the crinkles forming around his eyes. They make them look even kinder, you think. Before you could drown in them, Javi links his arm back to yours and the two of you continue walking through the park, falling into step together along the way. He’s right, though. It’s cold and it’s getting even more so. It doesn’t help that you’re functioning on a cup of tea that you only drank half of. You let out a full body shiver and you hope he won’t notice, but of course he does.

“You’re freezing, do you want my gloves?”

You’d forgotten to pack yours despite already laying out three pairs on the floor while you were packing, and you haven’t bothered buying new ones here. Innocently you thought burying your hands in your pocket or the crook of Javi’s arm would be enough.

“Thanks, but I’ll live.” You instinctively rub your hands together and stretch your fingers around for circulation. You’re almost at the other end of the park now, close enough to go into any building and warm yourself up. Javi stops walking and suddenly envelopes both your hands in his and massages them.

“Better?”

You smile. “Yes.”

“Why don’t we grab some food? That ramen place you told me about?”

“Oh, yes, please.” You sigh with relief.

“One second.” He says with a wink and calls the chauffeur to get to where you were.

While waiting on the side of the road to be picked up, he puts his hand that is holding yours into his coat pocket, hoping that would get you warmed up faster. You try not to think about how big it is compared to yours or how tender he is at stroking your hands with his thumb.

✧

“Here you go. Thanks.” You hand his gloves back to him before digging into your pocket to get your keycard. Even with the car’s heater, you still couldn’t get warmed up enough, so you’d given in to his insistence on them.

“Keep them,” he says, handing the gloves back to you. “You’ll need it tomorrow.”

“What about you?”

“I have a few more.”

The door clicks open and you walk into the room, putting the gloves and the card on the nearest table. Javi is still leaning on the doorway.

“I’d ask if you’d like a nightcap but then I might not be able to wake up early tomorrow.”

You’re going to take him to the Meiji Shrine first thing in the morning and it’s you who insists that you’d have to be on the way before sunrise to avoid the crowd. It’s important to you that he sees the entire place as serene as you did in your first time.

He shrugs. “We could go bar hopping tomorrow night. Know any place?”

“Of course. We could have something better than these little bottles anyway.”

He chuckles. “As the designated guide though, you can’t get too drunk. Can’t risk me getting lost trying to get us home.”

You both had agreed to go everywhere on foot and public transportation starting tomorrow so he could have a full tourist experience blending into the crowd. Something that his father never let him do when he went as a child for security reasons. He only hopes his back would make it by the end of the day.

You smile sheepishly. “If we get too carried away though, we could spend the night at one of those pod hotels…” Your eyes grow wide when you realize what you said could imply. “God, that sounded wrong, sorry.”

“It’s better here, anyway,” he chuckles. “And your room has a better view than mine.”

Javi already knew from Óscar that you’re accustomed to a cushy lifestyle since before you were even born, and he loves that you understand and can keep up with his lifestyle. It’s one less thing to worry about. You’re like a breath of fresh air for him... because even the highest paid movie stars always expected him to pick up the bill. Javi is far from stingy, but undoubtedly sometimes he feels like they’re only using him for his money and privilege when he genuinely only wants their company. They would always choose the most luxurious places to be at, all on his dime. But not you.

Once he heard where you’re staying, he changed his accommodations and Óscar did too, even though Javi initially wanted to use that as an opportunity to maybe… sneak around with you without being directly under Óscar’s nose. But this would have to do for now, and the understated luxury is more his thing than the hotel the studio initially booked for Óscar and co.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“Good night.” Javi looks t you one last time before closing the door for you and goes to his room to overthink his strategy. You’ve gotten rusty, old man.

He should’ve said yes to a nightcap. Should’ve said it wouldn’t matter if they woke up late tomorrow, the shrine is less interesting than you are. They could always go later in the day, he wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Truthfully he doesn’t really care about where you’re going as long as it’s with you. He should’ve said yes, and then maybe he could’ve spent the night with you. Come on, that’s hoping too much, he tells himself.

It’s not just tonight; he’s been thinking about it every day since he first met you. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Not that it stops him from falling asleep thinking about how your hands fit perfectly in his, how you brushed the foam from coffee off his mustache or straightened his scarf, how you sought his warmth whenever you felt slightly cold, how you didn’t hesitate to curl up to his side and sighed when he put your hands in his pocket…

…just like you can’t stop thinking about the way he held your hand every time you crossed the busy intersections today. Not the way you held on to him as he caught you when you were too busy laughing you didn’t notice the train had started moving. Not the way he just drapes his arm over your chair as you watch the jazz band perform. Certainly not the way he whispers in your ear and brushes his nose against your temple. What he says is innocent - and he’s only trying to be heard over the music - but it sends shivers down your spine.

This can’t just be the alcohol. The two of you had been drunker, much more drunker, back in New York but he was never this touchy. That had been purely innocent. This is different. Before you could overthink it and how you should react to him, a tall blonde man and his equally tall and blonde girlfriend walk over to the corner where you and Javi are sitting.

“Didn’t know you’re in town!” The man’s familiar voice greets you. He turns his head to your side to get a good look at Javi, who is now leaning back on the sofa and watching the man intently. “Who– wait, I know you from somewhere…”

“James, this is Javi.”

“Gutierrez, right?” He says to Javi who nods and gives you a teasing glance that says, See, he knows me.

“And Tess,” you say, nodding to the woman. She looks familiar, but Javi can’t pinpoint it. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good. I miss playing in London. I love it here, but…” he shrugs. “I’m just looking forward to coming home.”

“Well, I’m jealous that you get to live here.”

“Yeah, and winning matches is nice. What about you? Where do you live these days anyway?”

“New York. But I’m gonna be in London starting next month, we’re filming together.” You tell James, glancing over at Javi.

“Oh, finally, about time!” Tess exclaims. “What did I use to tell you? You’re meant to be seen.”

“Well, it’s not really my thing, but…” you glance at Javi. “Anyway, it’s only because it’s my parents’ friend’s project.”

“Come on! You’re doing great, looking great…” she winks at you. “If only he could see you now, right?”

You let out a suppressed, uncomfortable laugh. “Uh, I… yeah.” You take a big gulp of your drink, a glass of whiskey that tastes even more sour and bitter on your tongue than it should be.

“James saw him last week, didn’t you, babe? He–”

“Tess.” James says softly but sternly to his girlfriend who then mumbles an apology.

“No, it’s fine,” you wave your hand in front of you, an attempt to distract you from the taste in your mouth and dismiss their concern. “It’s just… a lot of things have happened since, and… I’m doing great now. Really great.”

“That’s good to hear,” James says sincerely. “It’s nice meeting you,” he says to Javi before turning back to you. “And seeing you again. Don’t be a stranger. Whatever you need and whenever, we’re here. Just know that. I don’t care that– just know I’m on your side–”

“Yeah, thanks, I appreciate it,” you try to dismiss it again as you take another gulp but Javi can’t help noticing that your hand is slightly shaking. “Good to see you around too, both of you.”

Tess offers you a small goodbye wave and an apologetic smile and you watch them blend into the crowd heading for the elevators. It takes you a minute before you finally look at Javi again and let out a big sigh of relief.

“Sorry that was awkward.”

“No, no, don’t be.” Javi frowns. He puts down his drink and scoots closer towards you. “It wasn’t. You okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

You know damn well he notices and you still try to hide it anyway. You know that he saw your face fall when James mentioned your ex and you saw the questions in his eyes when he quietly listened to the earlier conversation. You focus on drinking and watching the band again, and your hands eventually stop shaking.

✧

Javi knows something’s wrong the moment that James walks up to you. Your entire demeanor changes, your tone turning curt. He’s heard about your ex. Back in your apartment after a few drinks, you told him how you met him through friends and that it ended in a huge mess involving a lot of drama and a lot of other people, but you said it in passing that he didn’t think too much of it. You’re young and beautiful, of course you’ve had shitty exes and even shittier breakups. But the way you react to meeting old friends (are they? Friends?) makes him feel protective of you. He wants to hold your hand when he sees it visibly shaking and he hates that your “friends” even bring him up. He wants to reach out to you and wipe the tears that he sees pooling in your eyes for the last two songs. But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Do you want to leave?”

“No!” You’re startled by his sudden speaking up. “Sorry, I’m just, in my head.”

“It’s okay, take your time.”

“It’s just, so weird... I’ve– I’ve… it’s not like it was just yesterday and I’m fine and then James– Javi, I’m so sorry, I wanted this to be a fun night.”

“I’m having fun with you.”

“No, really–” you start.

“I am. This makes me feel like I’m in Lost in Translation.”

You look up at him so quickly it’s almost comical. “Oh my God. That is 100% my intention. Thank you.”

“It’s a bit too obvious. This, and everywhere else we’ve been going,” he smiles at you.

“Right!” You laugh. He brings that beautiful smile back on your face and he swells with pride. You should always be laughing, he thinks.

You’ll never get tired of this place. It’s not just because of the movie, although it was true for the first time. Countless hours you’ve spent sitting in this very place, be it for breakfast or tea by the window overlooking the skyline, dinner in the next room, and many, many drinks at the bar you’re sitting now with various companies all your life. No matter where you’re staying, you always find yourself back here at least once.

“If I could live in this moment forever, I would.” You ponder.

“And what moment is that?”

“This place, this music, this view…” You.

“Even with bold friends coming up to you?” Javi treads carefully.

“Ha, ha. He’s not bad. I was just taken by surprise,” you clear your throat. “Yeah, even then. What about you? Any great memories here?”

“Nothing special. I’ve only been here once before you. I had my first sake here, if anything.”

“Same here. Cheers to that,” you clink your glass of Suntory to his before you empty the rest of it in one gulp. “I was here last spring too. I went alone and it was… it was nice.”

“Do you often go to places alone?”

“Yeah… I kinda prefer it, almost. I’m used to it by now. I don’t really like waiting on anyone’s plans, so… I’d just go by myself.”

Do you ever get lonely? Javi almost asks before you continue.

“It gets lonely sometimes, but I’m used to that by now too. And it’s not always so lonely in New York.”

Don’t ask. Don’t ask. He knows you’ve been going on occasional dates since you first moved there. That’s what you told him. Not only that, but when you were several drinks in and he was buying his time until his assistant would call him again to get to the airport, you told him all about the guys you went out with. And just a few days later you called him from a restaurant’s bathroom to ask him to call you again in a few minutes’ time so your date could overhear that Javi “needs you for an urgent business matter”. He wasn’t pleased when he found out the guy was another actor (your age) that you had met at Mira’s party. That was quickly replaced with relief when you told him he was such a bore that you wanted to crawl out of your skin.

“Think your guys miss you back home?”

You laugh. “I doubt any of them even knows where I am. And, likewise. The dating pool is so terrible right now. Can’t seem to find a guy who doesn’t bore or double-time me.”

Javi raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah… Ben. Turns out he’s been dating this girl for months and he went out with me to scout for a replacement. Thank God he was boring and I didn’t take it further with him. Or any of them, as a matter of fact.”

Javi's eyebrows pretty much disappear into his hairline. That’s unexpected. He thought you've been… busy. Now you’re presenting him with the fact that you haven’t been getting any in however long and it awakens something in him. “Someone will come around.”

“Yeah. Anyway, here’s to you, the only decent man I met this year,” you raise your empty glass to him. “And all this Lost in Translation shit.”

✧

“You good to walk?” Javi asks you on the way out of the elevator.

“Yeah, why?”

“Your outfit isn’t exactly ideal.”

You had raised your hand to get a waiter’s attention when you accidentally slapped someone’s hands that were juggling three bottles of beer. The whole ordeal caused them to spill the entire content on you, drenching your body and your jacket that was slung over the armrest. The girl had apologized profusely and the manager brought you the only thing they had ready, a thick bathrobe, to change into. Now here you are, walking across the lobby as if you just needed fresh air and not to walk to the train station 20 minutes away. The gust of wind when the sliding doors open decides it for you.

“Actually, no. Let’s get a taxi.”

“Sorry about that. It was my fault,” Javi gestures to your body with a laundry bag that contains your wet clothes. “You can still have my coat if you want.”

“But then you’d be cold, old man,” you wink at him and you climb into the backseat of a black car. “So. Do all of your fangirls spill their drinks on every woman you’re with?”

“This would be the first time,” he laughs. It all happened so fast. He saw the girl coming towards him. Then your hand flew up and knocked the drinks out of the poor girl’s hands and onto your lap. It was unlike him, but he couldn’t be bothered to check on the fan to see if you were alright. She was shocked, obviously, but so were you. She had apologized while he was uselessly trying to dry your jeans with tissues when someone in a suit came to your rescue and pulled you aside. The manager covered your bills on the house and even offered to comp a room for the night. “Sure you don’t wanna just go back upstairs? I’m fine going back alone.”

You shake your head and let out a yawn. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

“The premiere.”

“Before.” You make a ‘duh’ face.

“Roppongi and the museum you told me about.”

You nod and think for a moment. “Do you think Óscar would be okay if we skip the premiere?”

Javi shrugs. “We usually leave after the movie starts anyway. Just stick around until then, you never know who you’ll meet.” Hopefully not another lame dude, he thinks. “Why?”

“Doesn’t he have a Q&A or whatever after it ends?”

“Depends, I guess.”

“Okay… what if after the movie starts we sneak out back to the hotel and watch something else instead?”

“Yeah? What do you have in mind?” Javi asks carefully, heart pounding in his chest.

“I don’t know, I just want to stay in on our last night here… We don’t even have to watch anything. What do you think?”

Javi can’t believe what he’s hearing. What are you saying? He tries to not assume that you’re asking in the guise of getting him into your room. To be fair, that’s what he wants. So his hopes aren’t that far fetched anyway. But he still doesn’t know if you’re interested in him like that. You didn’t respond to his touches earlier much and you still seemed very much affected by your ex. This must be all in his head. Only one way to be sure.

“Can do. Yours or mine?” He asks as he looks deep into your eyes, hoping you’ll get the implication.

“Mine. You’re the one who said it’s much better. And I’m pretty sure my bed is softer.”

God damn it. “Right you are.”

“What are you wearing tomorrow?” You intentionally cross your legs, hoping that he’ll follow your movement as the bathrobe parts in the middle and shows off your thighs.

“My assistant picked it out. I haven’t seen it yet, actually.” Holy shit. If you weren’t careful, he’d take you on this backseat right here and now – if there wasn’t a driver who’s already aware of each of your exchanges. So he does the decent and gentlemanly thing: he carefully closes the bottom of your robe to cover your side upper thighs… Did you take off your panties too when you changed? he wonders. Are you bare underneath? Fuck.

“I’ve had this midnight blue dress for years. Bought it for a wedding, never wore it. This is a much better event for it.”

“A wedding?” Not yours, surely?

“No, it wasn’t mine.” You smile. Javi doesn’t realize he blurted that question out loud. “And who wears blue getting married?”

He flushes red. “Uh… a lot of people, for the reception,” he fumbles.

You smile seeing him flustered. So you decide to play with him. “No, but why did you think that I was getting married?”

“I mean, it’s possible? You’re around that age, you’re beautiful, brilliant…” he chuckles, and you feel warmth creeping on you at his compliment. “Someone must have wanted to?”

“Actually, someone did ask me. To get married. I didn’t say yes but I didn’t exactly say no either - and it wasn’t even a proper proposal, he just brought up the idea one day. And I thought I wanted to think about it. Anyway, obviously it didn’t work out, and while I was ‘thinking about it’ he went and fucked girls I knew. Said if I wasn’t sure he needed to look at other options.”

“...I’m sorry to hear that.” He actually feels sorry that you were hurt, but thank god you didn’t go through with the ordeal. “Did you want to?”

“Don’t be. No… I dodged a bullet. I was supposed to wear tomorrow’s dress to his sister’s wedding. I didn’t get to go, obviously…” Should you be telling him this? It seems too much, too soon. “It was all just so weird and sudden. It was just a casual thing that escalated and we never even officially came out as a couple. He proposed that idea because it was the next thing to do on his list. A lot of athletes marry young if you ever noticed, and a lot of his friends were already settled, some with kids even…”

You take a deep breath before continuing. “And then we broke up… like I said, most people didn’t know we were together, even the ones we considered friends. So he went back to sleeping around and I turned down every invite from them. They eventually asked me why I wasn’t around anymore, and I told them my truth. But he told them we were never anything but friends who went on a date. One. They were his friends first so of course they believed him and thought I was delusional. James too, at first. I was a lot more hurt by that than the breakup.”

You two sit in silence for a few moments while Javi takes this in. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

Javi touches your shoulder. “Don’t apologize for telling me about yourself. If it would ease your mind, lay it on me. Payback for you having to deal with me asking how to use an app.”

“Yeah, that sounds fair,” you smile at him, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “So yeah… that’s… all that. Well, not quite, but… him asking me and then doing that, made me not wanna get married at all. And he wanted kids right away too. I just couldn’t imagine. I still can’t imagine doing all that so young. Some of my friends are already doing that, and it just seems too much right now. I mean, I never even had a proper job, things like that were out of the question.”

“But look at you now. One less thing to worry about. That’s your advantage, you still have a lot of time to consider your options, what you want to do… decide what you’re ready for and when.” Javi assures you. “I made up my mind when I was your age. I couldn’t do anything else but to be in the family business, couldn’t be with anyone because it’d be risky for them… never even thought about settling down.”

“There wasn’t anyone? Ever?” You normally didn’t dare to ask him anything this personal after your blunder at Mira’s party, but you just laid out half of your life story in front of him, and it’s only fair for you to get a glimpse of his real life too. At worst, tomorrow you could just blame it on the alcohol. Besides, you’ve been dying to hear it straight from him since you couldn’t bring yourself to Google his past conquests. You’re not ready to face the bevy of gorgeous women you’re sure would grace your screen.

“I was in a serious relationship once, back before all this. She worked for the family business. After that… she was comfortable finally doing honest work, and we were close to Italy, to her family. She was only a few years younger than me, so she was ready to settle down, and I… I wasn’t. I never had this many opportunities before in my life and I couldn’t pass any of it up. She didn’t like this industry much either. So we decided it wouldn’t work out, and I moved to London the next day.”

“Hmm. And where is she now?”

“In Italy. Married with kids.”

“I heard mine is getting married too. Next year.”

“At least you wouldn’t have to watch that in front of you?”

“You did?!”

“Had to. We’d been friends for half our lives.”

“Oh god, that must have been awkward.”

“Everyone’s better off now,” Javi shrugs. “After her I vowed to never get into a serious relationship again unless I’m really, really sure.” He makes sure to look right at you and gives you a knowing smile.

“Same here. Is your dating scene as depressing as mine?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but no. Everyone’s been really great.”

EVERYONE??? You’re screaming in your head. Should you be surprised, though? He looks like that, he’s very rich, he’s in a position of power, he’s kind and smart and gentle and… probably a very generous lover. You take a sharp breath and decide to tackle this, once and for all. “All those beautiful models and actresses?”

“Cliche, isn’t it?” He smiles to himself.

Technically, you’re his actress now too, right? You could use this to your advantage, with liquid courage egging you on.

“Is that your type?” You slyly ask as you lean your head back, exposing your neck. You know if he looked down your robe even a little he could see that you’re wearing a black lacy bra. If he takes the bait and you get lucky, you’ll show him your matching panties too.

Holy fuck. “Never know who’s not going after the fame or money, though.”

“That’s true.”

“Do you think I should worry about it?” You raise your eyebrows in answer; of course, duh. “How do you tell?”

“First, depending on who, I suppose…” You’re not sure where he’s going with this. A test? “And things like, never picking up the tab, for one. Or name dropping. Remember this one guy I told you about, who couldn’t not mention he was like 5x removed from the Windsors? That’s bad news. Or… boasting about you, a lot. Especially on social media. Posting your things without asking first. Those are my red flags. ”

Javi nods in understanding. It’s good to know you’re on the same page. His hand is back on your shoulder, fingers playfully stroking the collar of your robe, and you’re not sure if he wants to expose more of you or cover you.

So you continue. “I feel like that’s more relevant to my generation though, almost everyone’s like that, especially the social media part. I wouldn’t really know about people your age. They’re more lowkey, aren’t they? And, settled.” And now you want to know his preferred range. You mentally scold yourself for digging this hole.

“Not all of them. They’re in the business for a reason.” Javi answers. “There’s always more to want.”

“I see. But I can’t imagine anyone could be worse than the ones I’ve dealt with. They’re just all so… silly.”

“Aim older.” Javi blurts, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Should I? I haven’t thought about it.” You bite your lip and rub your thighs together, needing contact. You’ve thought about him, thought about pursuing something with this man 20 years your senior, thought about his lips devouring you everywhere, his beautiful hair that you want to grab onto as you take him, his mustache tickling you as he whispers Spanish filth, his big arms that you want wrapped around you, his neck that you want to nuzzle on... Oh, how you’ve thought about it.

If only he had taken his private car with the blacked out partition and the NDA-clad chauffeur. He could’ve made a more direct move. You’re practically halfway to parting your robe open and he’d like to take care of that. He tells himself he shouldn’t hope too much. Shouldn’t have even said everything he said, and shouldn’t have let you either. He’d promised Óscar too… not that it matters much since he’s been fisting himself every night to the thought of filling you in between your shooting schedule. You, begging for him until you couldn’t stand it anymore. Cleaning him up and going in front of the camera with his remnants still on your tongue. It’s safe in his head, where there’s no friend or public perception to consider. He could live with it, for now, at least until production’s done and you’re both out from under Óscar’s nose. He has a professional reputation to maintain too. Those worries aside, he and both his heads will have even more fun tonight knowing you haven’t been with anyone in a while.

“Javi…” he hears you whisper breathily. Before he could refocus himself, the car slows down to a stop. You’ve arrived back at the hotel. Where do we go from here?

✧✧

“Let’s never come here again, it would never be as much fun.”

“I disagree.” You quip.

You’re on your stomach next to him, still in your floor length dress and full makeup. You look absolutely stunning tonight. He was relieved he didn’t have to get you at your door like in the morning, because otherwise he might have said fuck it and talked you into ditching the whole thing to continue where you left off last night. He’d immediately excused himself after walking you up to your room, not wanting to cross professional boundaries just yet. He now could surmise that you more or less wanted the same thing, but what’s stopping you, he doesn’t know. Maybe you’re a more traditional type who waits for the man to make the first move. He’s fine with that - not that he could anyway. Not when he’s your boss. You didn’t look too disappointed when he left so you must’ve gotten a clue. All day today you kept a respectful distance from him.

Tonight you were already waiting in the car with Óscar, telling him all the places he missed out on while he was occupied elsewhere doing press obligations. Javi sat opposite you and had to look out the window when you crossed your legs and showed off the slit that went up to your thigh, lest Óscar noticed he was leering. You have a thing about doing that. He wasn’t ready either when you stepped out of the car first and he saw that your dress was backless… but he didn’t have time to think about it once the cameras flashed his way and you slinked into the background, making your way inside with one of the assistants.

Just as Javi predicted, all the cast but one left as soon as the movie started. Once the three of you arrived back at the hotel, you immediately said goodnight to Óscar and told him you were too tired from all the socializing to join him for a drink. Javi stayed at the bar with him, waiting for your signal.

“I gotta go,” he said to Óscar thirty minutes later, putting his phone back into his pocket.

“Got someone for the night or something?”

“Or something,” he smirked.

“Sure, tag along just to leave me for some girl.” Óscar rolled his eyes.

“No, but good night.” He slapped Óscar’s shoulder.

“Yeah, right. Fuck her up!”

You opened the door to Javi with a bucket of champagne and way too many plates of sushi that he had taken the liberty to order and timed perfectly to his arrival. You had been contemplating changing into something more comfortable. Should you go for the robe, but without anything else underneath this time? Remind him of what he was missing out on last night? He didn’t seem affected by the way he acted today. You were waiting for him to bring up the age thing again all day, but he never did. And all that was quickly forgotten once you saw the food.

“Fuck yes, I forgot I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.” You moaned.

“You’re welcome,” Javi closed the door behind him. “Think of this as the event your dress deserved. It looks fantastic, by the way – and you, too.”

“Thank you,” you climbed into bed and started arranging the food on your bed frame. “And your robe is impeccable, I have to say I’m jealous. Do you want to open it up?” You pointed to the champagne.

“Fill your stomach first, you’ll throw up.” Javi took his robe off and threw it on a chair behind him. “It’s yours if you want it.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said with your mouth full.

An hour later, with all the food gone and only half a flute of champagne left between the two of you, he watches you watch the movie with a soft look on his face. This is what he imagined nights with you would be like: you, laid out on the bed looking dreamy and completely relaxed. In the scenario in his head, he’d be slowly teasing you with his hands and mouth before you beg him to take off your dress that you’d put on just for him.

“Javi?”

“Huh?” He’s too far in his own head, wondering if you’d prefer him to take it off from the top where he’s very aware you’re not wearing a bra given the design of your dress, or slowly up your legs and take off your skimpy panties first and foremost. He’s pretty damn sure it’s some tiny little thing.

“I disagree. Let’s always come here again, it will always be as much fun.” You look up at Javi with your hand supporting your head. “It’s all about making new memories, right? Even if the next one turns out to be a bad one, that just means all the more reason to go back again.”

“You’re right. Would you say this is better or worse than the last?” He asks, making sure to look at you square in the eyes, letting you know he’s expecting a particular answer.

“Hmm… I don’t know. Still up in the air.” You give an exaggerated shrug and a wink and you scoot over to plop down next to him. “This has been a really fun week, Javi. Thank you.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you. I would’ve been sitting in coffee shops alone if you hadn’t come along.”

“Come on, you’re not that boring. You’d still go to museums and parks. Alone.”

“And it wouldn’t be as much fun.”

The two of you lie on your backs in silence, enjoying each other’s company, listening to each other’s breathing. Eventually you turn your body sideways, and he turns his head to look at you.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” his deep voice answers you amusingly.

“Are you sleepy?”

“It’s not that late.”

“Even for you?” You roll over to your stomach, forearms supporting you… and pushing your chest up. It’s fully covered, but it’s the idea that counts in Javi’s head. He doesn’t bother with a comeback, and instead gives you a rumbling giggle.

“Hey…” Javi starts, looking deep into your eyes. “Are you going anywhere for the holidays?”

NO, you want to say immediately. But before you could answer, your phone obnoxiously vibrates on the desk, interrupting the moment. You always leave calls missed, but for some reason this one compels you to pick it up.

“Hi! Hi. Yeah, yeah. No, I, uh, I’m… not busy,” you clear your throat and glance at him apologetically. “Sure, um–”

He disappointedly takes his cue and gathers his robe from the chair. Whoever is calling you clearly needs you more - he’s certain he hears them crying.

✧✧

“How was your night?” Óscar asks him with a smirk over coffee at breakfast.

“Could’ve been better,” Javi says with a shrug.

“It couldn’t be that bad. It’s still sex.” Óscar checks his watch. “So, I need to talk to you about her before she comes.”

Her? Javi perks up, his eyes cautious.

“Dieter Bravo’s a flight risk, so I think we should minimize his role a little bit,” Óscar suggests. “And then we’ll make her character bigger and move up her start date. What do you think?”

More of you on set? Why not! “When have I ever said no to you?”

He knows it’s a blatant lie. There’s a line he’s willing to cross that Óscar has drawn very, very clearly.

✧✧✧

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aidtale-of · 9 months

Text

Aidtale: Origins-Chapter 3

The same morning begins down in the Underground. Papyrus knocks on Sans’s door, calling to him.

“Sans? Sans, are you awake?”

No answer. Papyrus knocks until he’s sure Sans has woken.

“Sans!”

“What?” Sans grumbles, rolling over in bed, glancing at his clock and noting that it’s only 6 am.

“Sans, you have to get ready right now.”

“Why? It’s barely morning.”

“Because we have to be the first ones there. I heard from tv that some humans are nocturnal, so one probably fell at night. Plus, I’ve got some new puzzles I want to try out!”

Sans sits up in bed. “Alright, I’ll be out in a few.”

“Great!”

Footsteps recede from Sans’s door, followed by a door closing. Sans goes to head downstairs. He holds his foot out over the first stair, then teleports into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of ketchup from his side, ignoring the sense of deja vu. He goes to sit on his couch, taking a moment to feed his pet rock. Still tired, Sans settles further into the couch. Papyrus comes out of his room to see Sans already napping on the couch. He stands over him in a huff.

“Sans! You lazybones! Are you sleeping again?”

“Nah, just resting my eyes.”

Papyrus picks up Sans and places him on his feet. “Nice try, but I’m not falling for that one again. Have you eaten?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

They leave their home. As Sans goes to lock the door, Papyrus pats his non-existent pockets.

“Oops! I forgot something!” Papyrus runs back into the house, leaving Sans outside to wait. He comes back out with a box of bones. “Ok, now we can go.”

They walk through Snowdin, saying hi to everyone as they go. They walk all the way through Snowdin forest to Sans’s station.

“Alrighty Sans, don’t forget to recalibrate your puzzles. We don’t need anything failing if the human arrives.”

“I’ll get right to it.”

Papyrus, satisfied, walks away with his box of bones. Once he’s far enough away, Sans sits at his post, pulling a hot dog from underneath. As he eats, he gets a notification on his phone. He looks, and sees that it’s a text from Alphys.

“Hey Sans, I need you to look at this.”

She then sends a photo accompanied by some text.

“I was checking on some things regarding our research, and all of this just appeared out of nowhere.”

The picture is one of her computer screen. There are diverting lines going all over the place.

“u already sent me this” Sans texts back.

“W-what? What are you talking about? This is the first time I’ve seen this. There’s no way that i’ve sent this before. Though, now that you mention it, it does seem familiar.”

“ah, its probably just deja vu or smth. why do they stop like that though?”

“Uh, well, my theory is that there’s something powerful enough to simply stop time and restart everything.”

“kinda like flowey was doing?”

“. . . .Yes? But this looks wayyy different.” She sends a video accompanied by text. “Watch.”

The video shows Alphys scrolling through the timelines. Sans watches as the timelines start to lose variation, turning from varying lengths to the same, consistent, cut-off line, then disappearing entirely, leaving a number where a timeline should’ve gone. The count stops at 570, with the 570th one showing as in progress.

Huh, that’s weird. Sans rewatches the video in curiosity.

“where are the other ones?”

“Idk. Like I said, i’ve never seen this before.”

“hmm. maybe you accidentally deleted it”

“Maybe… I’ll check. What are you up to rn?”

“working”

“:( ok good luck.”

Sans puts his phone away and leans back in his chair. He closes his eyes to sleep, then dodges a pellet thrown at him from Flowey. He opens an eye.

“Y’know, if you wanna kill me, you gotta try harder than that.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, just seeing if you were awake.”

“Why? Are you looking for Papyrus? Cause, uh, he isn’t here.”

“I don’t need him. I was looking for you because…” He grumbles.

“..why? Because it looks like you’re about to say something you might regret.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Depends.”

“...I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I need your help.”

Sans is taken aback. “Uh..is this some kind of joke? Cause it ain’t particularly funny.”

“Trust me, you were the last person I’d ever even want to talk to,” he sighs, “But, unfortunately, you’re the one with both the knowledge and strength I need.”

“What for?”

…

“In about an hour or so, a human’s going to fall into the Underground-”

“Cool, thanks for the heads up.”

“No! Not cool! They’re going to kill everyone. And I mean everyone! And the only way we can stop them is if someone takes their soul for good.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure.” Sans pulls his hood over his head. Flowey looks at him, displeased.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Well, I could, but even if I did,” he peeks from under his hood, “why would I help you?”

“You don’t want to see everyone die, do you? This does include you and Papyrus, y’know.”

“..Funny. I coulda sworn that that’s happened before. Though, that wasn’t because of a human, now was it?”

Flowey’s face scrunches, seething. “I thought your job was to help people.”

“My job is to watch for humans, not help weeds I don’t trust.”

…

“Fine. Don’t believe me.” Flowey scorns, his voice full of venom. “But when everyone you know and love starts to die and you wonder what you could’ve done, I hope you think about this moment and cry.” Flowey burrows into the snow, disappearing from view. Sans scoffs and pulls his hood further down. “By the way,” Flowey calls out from farther away, “at the very least, go see Papyrus before packing your things.” Flowey leaves again. Sans is left alone, so he goes to sleep.

Sans wakes up later to the sound of the door to the ruins closing. He takes a look, but can’t make out the person that just walked out, so he teleports closer. Taking a closer look, he sees it’s a human, just like Flowey said. Sans gives the same introduction and they go through the same old routine, telling the human to keep pretending to be one, then teleporting away. The day goes about as well as one could expect with trying to get a murderous child to participate in puzzles and japes. Soon, Sans finds himself in Snowdin Town, once again helping the monsters evacuate. He goes to his home and is about to pack his and Papyrus’s things, but pauses for a moment, thinking about what Flowey said earlier. Sans backs slowly from the front door and instead heads for where Papyrus was going to fight the human. Fog clouds the area. Sans can barely make out the shape of something disintegrating into the snow. He walks closer, the fog disappearing. The human walks away into Waterfall, stepping in Papyrus’s dust as they go. Sans’s mind runs a million miles a minute. How could this happen so quickly? How strong is this kid? This thing?...Why does this feel so familiar?

His phone starts to ring. Sans stares at his pocket for a moment, letting the phone ring, before he picks it up. Alphys is on the other end, yelling.

“Sans? Sans, help! I-I can’t find them! I can’t find the human!”

“They just entered Waterfall. Look near the entrance,” Sans tells her, his voice monotone.

“R-really?! Oh my gosh, they’re moving so fast! W-what about you and Papyrus? Are you two..Have you made it out?”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Where are you? Where’s Papyrus?”

“. . .”

“..Sans?”

“..He’s dead.”

“Oh. Oh god. I..I’m so sorry..”

Sans shakes his head, “It’s fine. We should focus on evacuations.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. Get here as soon as possible.”

“I will. See ya.” Sans hangs up, staring at the pile of dust.

“Bet you believe me now.” Flowey’s voice pipes up from behind. Sans slowly puts his phone away.

“Yeah. Sure. I believe you.” Bones rise out of the ground around Flowey and lift him into the air, taking the dirt along with him. Sans turns to face him. “So tell me, if you knew what was going on, why are you helping them?”

“Ha..helping them? What do you mean?” Flowey’s voice tremors a little.

“Don’t play dumb. Papyrus…all of his puzzles and traps are covered in vines, and last I checked, the kid’s not made of plants.”

Flowey shifts around, uncomfortable. “I was making things go faster. This timeline’s already screwed, and you weren’t going to help, so might as well let the human reset and try again.”

“Reset, huh?”

Flowey nods. “That human..they have..way more determination than I could ever hope for. That’s how they’re able to come back every time and kill everyone. If I remember correctly, they’ve reset about 570 times already.” Sans thinks for a second, then pulls out his phone as Flowey continues. “And the worst part is that no one else remembers. No one can remember. All of you just spout off the same stupid lines about ‘deja vu’ and…what are you doing?”

“Just checkin’ something.” He turns back to Flowey. “Ok, so, question. If you knew all of this was happening, why didn’t you try getting help before..oh, I don’t know, 100 runs? Or even 10?”

Flowey pauses for a moment in reminiscence. “I..thought they were…,” he shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter. I’m trying to stop it now, isn’t that enough?”

“Maybe.”

Sans looks back at his phone. The video Alphys sent earlier with the timeline list finishes playing, stopping at 570.

Flowey tries to look Sans in the eyes. “So? Are you helping or what?”

“Heh,” Sans puts his phone away, “sure. I’ll try to help… in the next run.” He starts to walk away.

“What? Why the next run?”

“Well, it’s like you said. This timeline’s screwed, so why bother?”

“You’ll forget everything in the reset though.”

Sans thinks for a moment, then smiles wider. “Oh yeah, you’re right. Luckily, I have a solution for this. A passcode. One that only I know. I usually save it, just in case I come across a time traveler. So, next time, just pop by my window or something, tell me the code, then fill me in on everything, capiche?”

“Ok, what’s the code?”

Sans gets closer, gesturing for Flowey to do the same. He whispers the code to him. Flowey reels back.

“I’M NOT SAYING THAT! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?”

“Well, that’s the code I have.”

“You gotta have something else.”

“Can’t. If I change it now, you’ll use the wrong code and I won’t know.”

Flowey grumbles, “You jerk, fine!”

“Cool.”

Sans recalls the bones, sending the chunk of dirt crashing back into the ground. He begins to walk off when Flowey calls out after him.

“That’s what they’re looking for, by the way.”

Sans takes a look back. Flowey continues.

“A change. That’s what the human’s looking for. So try to act normal.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

Flowey disappears into the dirt. Sans stares for a bit, then teleports into Alphys’s lab.

“‘Sup Al.”

“AH!” Alphys flinches at Sans’s sudden appearance. She readjusts her glasses. “Sans! I-I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I didn’t either, whatcha up to?”

“I, uh..I came up with a plan.”

“K. What is it?”

“Uh, well, I-I called..well, I didn’t call her, Mettaton did, b-but we called Undyne a-and told her what’s going on. So she’s going to help evacuate Waterfall and maybe, hopefully stop the human. And if..if she…if she can’t..then..uh..” Alphys readjusts her glasses, “S-sorry.”

“It’s alright. What happens if she can’t?”

“..If she can’t, then I’m supposed to call Asgore and t-tell him to absorb the human souls so m-maybe he can defeat them.”

“Ok. Where will the escaped monsters go?”

“Well, we could take them to less populated areas, or harder to access places. I-if we really need to, we could take them to places that have already been affected, considering that it’s unlikely the human would look there again.”

“Ok. Are we going to help?”

“I need to put out the notice to the other areas, and after that I’m going to help with Hotland.”

“Alright. I’ll go move some monsters in Waterfall.”

With that, Sans teleports into Waterfall. The day goes just as last time, and soon, Sans finds himself back to dying in the judgment hall, telling the human where he’s going and asking if Papyrus wants anything before dissolving into dust.

Next---https://www.tumblr.com/ask-aidtale/723938110179803136/aidtale-origins-chapter-4?source=share

Previous---https://www.tumblr.com/ask-aidtale/723937991398162432/aidtale-origins-chapter-2?source=share

#ask aidtale #undertale au #undertale #writing #chrono

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hellbubu · 1 year

Text

I’m handsome, tall, and rich

Chapter 19

AN: I might not update in a bit. I will probably be busy the next couple of weeks so updates will either slow down or be shorter.

“What happened just now?” Kakashi pulled away. He still kept close to Sasuke, never taking his eyes off him.” Does this mean we’re now together?”

It was almost like time had slowed down. Kakashi could almost hear soft music playing in the background. Sasuke was looking up at him with wide eyes and his mouth was slightly open. Kakashi could just tell that the moment Sasuke regained his bearings he’d say yes.

“No!” Sasuke pushed him away.” No, sir.”

“Huh?”

“This is- uh. This is a mistake.”

“What? A mistake?”

“Can we pretend it never happened?” Kakashi remained silent. He was still as a statue.” I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sasuke walked away. Sasuke had just made it out the door when Kakashi caught up to him.” Hold on! Wait!”

Sasuke stopped in his tracks. He slowly turned to Kakashi as he spoke.

“So you’re just gonna leave like this?”

“Hey, Sasuke!” Before either of them could speak, Genma showed up.” Where were you? We’ve been looking for you for ages!”

“Let’s go then.” Sasuke walked in the opposite direction to Kakashi.

Kakashi closed the door to his home office and sighed. He touched his lips with his fingertips, he could almost feel Sasuke’s touch and warmth.

“He wanted to kiss me but now it’s a mistake?” Kakashi ran a hand through his hair.” How can he be so good at playing with me?”

Sasuke laid in bed, wide awake, regretting every single decision he had made in his life.

“Maybe I should’ve saved my vacation days.”

He tried his best to think of ways to avoid Kakashi, but none would 100% work, after all, Kakashi could just show up unexpectedly like he did that day.

Subconsciously, his fingers played with his lips as he fell asleep.

“Morning, guys,” Sasuke yawned as he walked into the office. He saw that everyone had crowded around Karin, watching something on her desktop. That let Sasuke know that that day wouldn’t be an easy one.” What’s going on?”

“There he is! The best worker!” Suigetsu exclaimed.

Sasuke walked around to see Karin’s screen. Yesterday’s video was playing.

“You have to focus on the board,” Sasuke read out loud the text that showed on the screen as he chopped the onions while keeping eye contact with Kakashi.

“It’s company policy to never put artificial coloring on our sauces,” the Sasuke from the video said as he whipped at his coat,” this will be easy to get off. It’ll just need some water and soap.”

“Why would they upload that?”

“Chill.” Suigetsu grabbed the mouse and scrolled to the comments.” They love you.”

“He’s really pulling all the weight,” Karin read out loud.

“If his boss is watching, he should give him a bonus.” Juugo pointed at a comment.

“If you receive a bonus you better take us out!”

“As I mentioned yesterday,” Karin said ignoring the previous comment,” I want you all to think of five or more product ideas for the dumplings.”

“We’re marketing overseas, right?”

“Yeah. I want only your best ideas.”

The moment Sasuke sat down at his desk, his phone started buzzing. The screen lit up showing a call from Kakashi. Sasuke quickly declined the call.

“So now you’re not picking up my calls?” Kakashi muttered as he locked his phone. He looked out the window like some sort of drama villain, except he wasn’t on the top floor and this wasn’t his building.

“It’s all ready.” Naruto interrupted his thoughts.

Kakashi sighed and walked towards where the rest were gathered.

“I’ll take the photo now!” The photographer said once everyone was holding the giant check.

“Wait up!” A good-looking middle-aged woman wearing a light blue, v-necked midi dress slowly walked towards them.” Just a moment please.”

The woman placed herself right at the center. She just barely head onto the check and posed for the picture.

“Thank you for letting me be a part of this.” Kakashi shook a man’s hand. Naruto stood behind him and off to the side.

The man faked-laughed in return before excusing himself.

“Excuse me, President Hatake.” The woman from before intercepted him.

“That’s Director Hyuga Ah-lin from the art museum,” Naruto whispered to him.

“Long time no see,” she said as she held a hand to him as though she expected him to kiss it.

“It’s been a while.” Kakashi held her hand.” I don’t think I’ve seen you since the opening ceremony three years ago.”

“You’ve become even more good-looking.” She chuckled.” Maybe it’s because of how long you were in New York.”

She tried to push her hand closer to Kakashi’s face as if to make him kiss it. He let it go once, twice, by the third time he let go of her hand.

“Do you really think so?”

“Let me put it this way,” she started,” your software and your hardware are both good. One could say you’re perfect inside-out.” She looked at him almost smugly before continuing,” It’s no wonder you weren’t happy with Hinata.”

Behind them, Naruto bit his tongue as he gave the woman a nasty look.

“It’s fine.” The woman waved her hands in front of her.” She’s my niece, that’s true, but, objectively speaking, you’re out of her league.”

“President Hatake,” Naruto interrupted before leaning in to whisper something to Kakashi.

“My apologies, but other matters require my attention.”

“Of course. I’ll see you next time.” She watched Kakashi walk away, not letting the opportunity of checking him out escape. Her phone vibrated and she answered the call without even looking at the caller.” Yeoboseyo?”

” Auntie! Do you think you can get me a position at the museum?”

“No.” Her voice was almost stern, almost comforting.” If you quit Hinata will snatch your position. Is that okay with you?”

” I don’t really-”

“No! It’s not okay with you!” She raised her voice slightly.” I can ask father to make you senior manager director instead.”

”Really?”

“I’m still at a meeting, but we can have dinner tonight.” Kakashi overheard Naruto on the phone.” Okay. I’ll see you at home. Bye.”

Kakashi walked towards him just as Naruto turned around.

“You have nothing else scheduled, do you want me to drop you at yours?”

“I have something personal to attend to, so I’ll be leaving now.”

“Where? I can-”

“No thanks. I’d rather drive myself. You can go home.”

“Huh?”

“Clock out.” Kakashi gave him a stern look.” You’re basically my brother, so take this as a favor. Go and enjoy your evening. But most importantly your dinner.” Kakashi winked at him before walking away.

Sasuke and Kakashi quietly sat in the car. The tension and awkwardness were thick.

“I think we have something to talk about.”

“Talk about?” Sasuke frowned before his eyes widened.” Oh, I thought we were already done talking about it.”

“Who said we were done?”

“I’m pretty sure I told you to pretend it never happened.”

“So, you’re telling me, after initiating the kiss, that it was a simple mistake?” Kakashi turned his head to properly look at Sasuke.” Don’t you think that’s a bit one-sided? Plus, you’ve been ignoring my calls!”

“It’s just that we were standing so close and- and our lips bumped!” Sasuke did a motion like fist bumping himself.” It was kinda like a fender bender.”

“A fender bender?” Kakashi looked at Sasuke indignantly.” Are my lips some sort of parking post?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Let me get this straight, then. Yesterday was just a mistake you made because of lust and not feelings for me?”

“What do you mean lust? It wasn’t even a heated kiss!” Sasuke took a deep breath to calm himself.” Look, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I don’t care if was a mistake. The fender-bender was your fault so you’re responsible for the damages.”

“Yeah.” Sasuke closed his eyes and sighed.” I’ll take responsibility and do my best to pay you back for it.”

Kakashi smirked, his head was turned to the side so that Sasuke couldn’t see it.

“Very well.” Kakashi droved away.” To pay me back for the kiss, take me to dinner.”

Sasuke almost choked on air as soon as he opened the menu.” How can someone as rich as you ask me to buy you this!”

“I thought you were going to handle it?”

“The worst thing is that the kiss wasn’t even good,” Sasuke muttered as he tried to find the cheapest things on the menu.

“Did you say something?”

“That I didn’t do it by myself. You kiss me back.”

“You’re saying you were not the only one responsible for it?”

“Indeed I am.”

“I’ll take some responsibility, then.” Kakashi crossed his arms.” I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life as a person cares for their partner.”

“Smooth change of topic.” Sasuke rolled his eyes.

“You know how I feel. How did you expect me not to react when the hot, sexy man I like kisses me?”

“ Are we really having this conversation right now? In public?”

“If you don’t want to pay me back with dinner, do it another way.”

“I feel like I don’t want to know what the other way is.” Sasuke had given up on finding something cheap on the menu. He set it down at one end of the table. It was nearly impossible to concentrate with Kakashi saying that kind of thing.

“I think paying back with what one received is acceptable.” Kakashi’s expression was completely serious as he said that.” An eye for an eye or, in this case, a kiss for a kiss.”

“What did you say you were ordering?” Sasuke picked up the menu again.

“Good evening,” the waiter said,” here’s your amuse-bouche.”

“Thanks.” Sasuke watched him set it on the table and tried his best not to think about how much it cost.

Click! Click! Click!

Genma sat behind a long table as a photographer took close-ups of his dishes. The man then backed up to take a picture of him alongside the dishes.

“Chef Shiranui, could you smile more naturally?”

“Sure.”

“One second, please.” Anko told the photographer.” I think he might be nervous.”

“Alright. Let’s take a short break then.”

She walked toward Genma and fixed his hair.

“What are you doing?” Genma looked up at her.” You didn’t ask if I wanted this.”

“Why are you complaining? Others would love to be in your place.” Anko let her hands fall to her sides, she tried to keep on the mask of a happy, dotting girlfriend.” You’ve been acting like this lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since we came back from Sokcho you’ve been acting like you’re mad at me.”

“I’ve been busy because of work and it never leaves my mind.”

Anko rolled her eyes. Before she could speak the photographer spoke to Genma,” I just wanted to say that you have a great social media presence.”

“I didn’t expect you to have seen that.” Anko responded in Genma’s stead.” Thank you.”

“That part where the researcher talked about the sauce and food coloring was good. It was scripted, right?”

“I think it-”

“It wasn’t,” Genma spoke up,” Sasuke isn’t all that good of an actor to act out and react that quickly.”

Anko walked away. In a corner of the restaurant, she opened the video of Genma and Sasuke. She went to the comments. Most of them seemed to be about how good they seemed to be together and how they must be dating.

“Do you not like the food?”

Sasuke chewed slowly so that he didn’t have to answer immediately. How could he enjoy the food when just thinking about it made his wallet hurt?

“The food’s fine.”

“What’s with all this food?” Kakashi asked as another server brought more food to their table.

“We would like for you to taste-test our newest menu, sir.”

“Asking your customers to do your work?” Kakashi asked in a light, joking tone.

“I’m more than sure your palette is much more delicate than mine, sir.” The man chuckled.” It’d be an honor if you obliged.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you.”

Sasuke adverted his eyes from Kakashi’s mouth because seeing him eat a pastry made him have the type of thoughts he’d rather have in private. The way he licked his lips and the way they moved as he bit the pastry made Sasuke wish Kakashi had something else in his mouth.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“I need to use the restroom.”

Sasuke got up and power walked to the restroom.

“I should probably buy a toy,” Sasuke muttered in front of the mirror. He splashed some water on his face and mentally prepared himself before walking out.

As he walked back toward their table he heard someone playing the piano. He peeked from behind a plant to see Kakashi sitting at the piano. The way Kakashi’s fingers danced caused Sasuke to, once again, have thoughts he’d rather have in private.

Sasuke sat back at their table just before Kakashi finished the song. He clapped alongside the other patrons as Kakashi walked toward him.

“I didn’t know you could play the piano.”

“Didn’t I tell you that I’m good at many things?”

“So you play the piano for every person you meet?” Sasuke’s tone was light but Kakashi turned somewhat serious.

“I won’t answer that question. It is more fitting for people in a relationship.” Kakashi then put a charming smile on his face.” If you want to hear the answer, we can always change our status.”

“You sound so fucking desperate,” Sasuke whispered before raising his voice.” I’d better grab the check.” Sasuke turned to a waiter.” Could you bring us the check, please? My coat and wallet too, if you don’t mind.”

Two waiters walked towards them with their coats.

“The check?” Sasuke asked.

“Your meal’s already been paid for.”

Sasuke looked at Kakashi questioningly. Kakashi just bid the waiters good night and walked away.

“Wait.” Sasuke rushed to catch up with Kakashi.” Why did you do that?”

“I thought about it for a bit.” Kakashi paused” It would be so absurd for this to be payback for a kiss, would it not?”

“Huh?”

“I’ll just have you pay me back with something bigger.”

“What are you trying to get from me?”

“If not–” Kakashi paused. His eyes traveled to Sasuke’s lips.” – you can always pay me back with something else.”

“I’d rather not.” Sasuke took a step back.” Since you already paid there’s nothing I can do. Next time, it’ll be on me.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” He smiled before walking away.” Maybe we should eat steak next time.”

Sasuke just sighed thinking of the bill.

#mj's writing #kakasasu #kakashi hatake #sasuke uchiha #fic: im handsome. tall. and rich #naruto

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saucy-sassy-sparkly · 2 years

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I'm a tumblr virgin...

I'm nervously posting here for the first time... I've been posting on AO3 for a while, but I've recently become more of a tumblr girl and thought I'd see what kind of traction I can get here. I included a link to my AO3 story (I think...? help!) but posting the first chapter here.

If this seems like a good new home for me, I'll post the rest and the new things I've been working on.

Seriously... send help and kindness... I don't know how to use this thing...

FLIGHT 1311

Chris Evans x OFC

Part 1

“Attention passengers of Flight 1311: unfortunately, the mechanics are still working on the aircraft and anticipate another hour before we can safely board. We apologize for the inconvenience. Please see the ticketing counter if you wish to try to reschedule your flight.”

Harriet slumped in her seat, not bothering to glance at her phone. It was already past midnight in Boston; she didn’t bother to call or text an update. Everyone who needed to know was already asleep. She pulled her hoodie up over her head and held her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees. It wasn’t long before tears were rolling down her face; trying to cry quietly in a crowded airport gate was no small feat. She’d been lucky to find a seat in the corner, away from the loud talkers and groups of drunk passengers getting more drunk with each delay. She heard the tell-tale squeak of the chair next to her as someone sat beside her. Instinctively, she pulled her tote closer to her, trying to make more space.

When she finally felt like she’d gathered herself, she sat up and rummaged through her bag for her book, hoping to lose herself and stay distracted. While shuffling through her bag, her phone vibrated off the armrest and into the lap of the man next to her. She glanced at him, avoiding eye contact with her swollen, tear-stained eyes, and muttered “thanks” when he handed her the phone. Harriet’s favorite picture of Danny and Emily covers the screen.

“Danny, it’s late. Is everything okay?”

“Just checking on you. I saw the delay again.”

Harriet sniffled; hearing his tired voice made her feel worse, “I should never have taken this weekend away; I’m so sorry to leave you both right now.”

“We’re okay, Har, I promise,” his voice was so exhausted. She could picture the five o’clock shadow on his face and the bags under his eyes. “She’ll be okay.”

Her eyes filled with tears, “I’m so worried about her.”

Dan gave a humorless chuckle, “you and me both. But you deserved this weekend away. You do nothing but spend your time at work or hovering around Em’s hospital bed. You needed a weekend for yourself. I’m glad you took it.”

Harriet shook her head, “No, I should’ve stayed home when the new surgery popped up. I’m coming straight to the hospital from the airport. I want to see her before she goes in.”

“You won’t make it in time,” he sighed heavily, “it’s almost one here right now. If you boarded right now you still wouldn’t make it through the flight, baggage claim, and morning traffic before they took her back. Just go home, take a shower, maybe eat something, and you can wait with me after you’ve had some rest.”

Harriet sighed, “you’re probably right.”

Dan’s smile was palpable through the phone, “I’m not sure you’ve ever told me that.” He paused, and she could hear him whispering to someone before he came back on the line, “call you right back,” and he hung up.

Harriet only had a minute to panic before a Facetime call was coming through. She threw in her AirPods and hastily whipped the tears off her face, “Emmy!” Harriet cooed warmly, “how’s my best girl?”

A sleepy-looking seven year old grinned back at her, “Daddy says to tell you to relax.”

Harriet grinned, “You both know me better than that.”

“I’m nervous for tomorrow,” Emily told her, glancing up at Dan who sat beside her on the bed. Suppressing tears, Harriet kept her face calm, “You’re going to be great, babe. I’ll be there the second you wake up.”

“Do you promise?” Her timid little voice was breaking Harriet’s heart. She couldn’t form words; she knew they’d come out in a sob, so she nodded vigorously. Emily continued, “I love you.”

Harriet pulled it together long enough to say, “I’m glad I got to see your sweet face, Em. I love you so so much, and I’ll hug you tomorrow.”

Dan’s picture filled the screen and the lighting changed when he stepped into the hallway, “I woke her up when I called you and she insisted on seeing you before she went back to sleep.”

“Go back in and hug her for me, then get some sleep. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Love you.”

“Love you too. Hope you board soon.” As soon as the call disconnected, Harriet dissolved into sobs, willing herself to stay quiet and not draw attention to herself. She tucked her legs up under her and pulled her hoodie over her eyes. It took her several minutes of using every calming strategy she had to unfurl her legs and sit up straight. She was about to use the arm of her sweatshirt to wipe her eyes when the man next to her offered her a napkin.

“Thank you,” she sniffled, “sorry about this.” She forced herself to look at him, and he smiled back warmly.

“Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Harriet nodded, “I appreciate that.”

“I just hope everything is okay,” He continued to smile, and she stared at him longer than she meant to. Realization crept through her, and she pulled her eyes away.

“It’ll be okay when we get on this stupid plane,” She forced a smile, trying not to think about how much Emily would freak out if she knew Harriet was sitting next to Captain America. “Hey,” she turned back to him, “would you mind watching my bag for a minute?”

“Yeah, take your time.” Harriet headed towards the bathroom, splashing water on her face and taking several deep breaths. Captain America had just sat next to her while she wept. Chris fucking Evans was next to her in the airport. Emily would absolutely die if she knew; Harriet debated asking him to sign something or take a picture, but she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and thought better of it. Early on in Emily’s cancer diagnosis, there had been many extended hospital stays and a desperate need for entertainment. Dan had introduced her to superhero movies, and the rest was history. At the time, she’d probably been too young to watch some of them, but now they were Emily’s go-to’s when she needed a distraction. But above all, Captain America was her absolute favorite. Harriet had spent many nights tucked into the hospital bed beside Emily watching Marvel movies.

When she got back to the seat, she whispered a “thanks” to Chris, who was reading, and settled back into her chair, still trying to decide how to approach him before he said, “my turn.” He stood up and stretched briefly, his white tee-shirt sliding up just enough to expose his firm stomach and Harriet to avert her eyes. “I’m going to check on the flight status and then get some tea; you want anything?”

She hesitated, “yeah, actually, something herbal would be great. Thank you.” He spent several minutes at the ticketing counter talking with the agent before disappearing into the Starbucks. He handed her a cup and refused her money, sitting back down beside her.

She was about to start a conversation when the gate agent came over the intercom, “We are pleased to start boarding Flight 1311 with nonstop service to Logan International. At this time, all First Class passengers are welcome to board. We also invite Miss Harriet Kelly to visit the ticketing agent at this time.”

“Me?” She asked no one in particular.

“Excuse me?” Chris asked.

“I’m Harriet Kelly,” She told him, a little dumbfounded and very exhausted.

He laughed, “I’m Chris,” he held out his hand, and she shook it, smiling, before redirecting the conversation, “Hi, but that was my name they just called. I have to go to the desk, I guess.”

Chris nodded, gathering his trash, “It was a pleasure sitting with you, Harriet. I hope everything works out in Boston,” he touched her arm lightly before walking away to throw out his trash and disappear among the other passengers.

At the ticket counter, the agent was pleasant and asked for Harriet’s ticket. Several moments of typing on her computer passed before she handed Harriet a different ticket, “You’re all set, Miss Kelly.”

“I’m sorry,” Harriet started, “I’m really tired. What is all set?”

“Your upgrade,” the agent smiled.

Harriet stared at her, “My what?”

“Your seat was upgraded to First Class. Lucky you,” she grinned at Harriet.

“Are you sure? Mine? How? Why?”

The agent shook her head, her smile faltering, and Harriet regrouped, “I’m sorry, that’s not your problem,” Harriet picked up the ticket and her tea, “I bet you don’t get this reaction about a first-class upgrade very often.”

She laughed and shook her head, “Not usually. Have a good flight, Miss Kelly.” Harriet stepped away from the counter and looked at the ticket: Seat 2A FIRST CLASS in large letters. She hesitantly slid into line behind the rest of the first-class passengers, waiting for someone to jump out and yell, “JUST KIDDING!”

As she approached the gate agent, she noticed Chris standing against the windows, sipping his tea and scanning his phone. She stared at him, waiting for him to feel her eyes.

When he looked up, he grinned and raised his cup to salute her, “enjoy the comforts of First Class, Harriet.”

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x ofc #chris evans fic #cevans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans x original female character

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only-freaking-sunflowers · 1 year

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Why I didn’t actually hate my shitty job?

Just a wee blog post amongst all the Eurovision flooding your dash right now. Sponsored by Uber Eats, Google Sheets, and Neurodivergency.

I’ll keep this as brief as possible. LOL jk I probably won’t, let’s be honest.

At the end of December, I started working for a local music school. You know, the kind that teaches kids to play the piano or the guitar, or (unfortunately) the violin. (I’m surprised at how many people think it’s cool that I worked at a music school, idk what they’re picturing? It wasn’t that cool.)

And no, this is not at all where I pictured myself, or at all what I went to school for. It just beat going back to the mall, cause working retail kicked my ASS.

And here’s exactly the thing. This place– while absolutely laden with the kind of bullshit that only small businesses run by a Gen-X white man with an inflated ego are– did not kick my ass. On the day to day, it was actually quite pleasant to be there. And best of all, it was neurodivergent friendly.

What I mean by that is that I got quiet time at the start of my day to ease into things before the kids arrived, drink coffee and answer emails, not to mention that my day started at 12:30pm which is freaking fantastic for my sleep-wake delay. The music teachers, the coworkers I had physically around me everyday (other admin staff, like me, I only ever saw over Zoom, I was the only admin in my location) were lovely people who made the environment really fun. I’m not a kids person really, but I saw the kids in brief passings while they waited for their teacher to be ready for them or their parent to come pick them up. I let them draw on the windows and always had a stocked basket of stickers, so I gained my cool status twice over. I got to run pretty much all the creative aspects of the studio– I wrote on the windows in chalk markers, I decorated the whiteboards, I hung streamers and holiday decor, not to mention learning how to use Canva so I could make our social medias pretty and engaging. And I got to be surrounded my music and creativity all day.

And I didn’t take it too seriously. It’s music lessons, it’s supposed to be fun. This isn’t a law firm or a hospital, it’s a music school. We’re in the business of letting kids have fun and foster a love for a music and creative expression, the same love that I have.

I felt love for this place and I wanted everyone else to, as well. If you haven’t been able to tell yet, I lead from love, always.

Sometimes I let the mundane tasks slip, I’ll admit. I didn’t take the trash out when it was raining. I didn’t always clean the toilets. Sometimes the phone calls waited until I could muster the energy to talk to a stranger over the phone (but they always got done).

This place definitely had its problems. So many problems. As I said, so much bullshit that only a place like this could have. And our management/staffing structure was.... abhorrent. I had a lot of piling responsibilities, being the only admin staff to work there full-time. We didn’t have a kitchen or a break room, or a fire alarm... or much of anything at all. Let’s not even start on the surveillance issue.

I should’ve run from this place way sooner.

But I liked it there.

No one really gets why. And that’s okay. I’ve had to justify it a few times over the past two weeks– as two and a half weeks ago, I was abruptly fired, and I’ve had to say to people in my life that yes, I worked in a hurricane but specifically I worked in the eye, so it was actually kind of pleasant to be there, even if it was a disaster.

I just texted my favourite coworker cause I remembered her birthday. She turns the big 3-0 today. She said she hopes I’m well and she misses working with me. I never got to say goodbye to her, even though she was the last person I talked to before I got fired, we were making plans for advertising the summer recital as we walked out to our cars at the end of the night. Then I got fired in the morning before she got to work.

This nagging non-hatred of the job, however shitty it really was, really muddles with the righteous anger of being fired. So I had to put these words somewhere. Apparently Tumblr is useful for more than shitposting and gifsets, huh.

Anyway I’ve applied for 15 jobs this past week so God give me the strength.

#Just belle things #long post #personal

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jungle321jungle · 2 years

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Laughing All The Way To the Furniture Store

Idiom: Laughing all the way to the bank:

Meaning: To be profiting or benefiting from something that is regarded by others as frivolous, stupid, or somehow objectionable.

Aka Remus robs a bank.

Ao3 - Masterlist

~~~~

Laughing All The Way To the Furniture Store

The mindless scrolling on his phone was paused momentarily as Virgil gave a yawn, this errand was already taking longer than he had anticipated. He was just supposed to go to the bank and talk to people about closing his account which seemed simple enough in theory, but reality showed that the small bank was busy this morning. Busy enough in fact that at this rate he might be late to meet Janus for lunch. Virgil’s fingers drummed on his leg as he debated sending a preemptive text to warn his friend of his delay, but ultimately decided against it. He was just overthinking this, someone would help him soon. Probably. Thankfully he was possibly proven correct as one of the bankers appeared. He gave Virgil and the other people in the waiting area.

“I’m so sorry for the delay everyone, we had a few people call out sick this morning,” the banker- Patton according to his name tag- started. “So I’ll do my best! But if you need to wet the whistle while you’re waiting let our star teller over there know, and she can direct you to some coffee. Or I personally love the hot chocolate we got. But before all that, I can start helping M-”

His words were cut off by the sound of a loud bang as the bank’s front door was slammed open to reveal a strange looking man. Said man had a large grin on his face which didn’t match the knife he held towards the nearest person. “Everybody put your hands in the air and wave ‘em like you just don’t care! This is a robbery, people!”

The words that left the man’s lips were far less threatening than Virgil imagined they should’ve been. Or perhaps it was his outfit that Virgil couldn’t take seriously. The robber wore a fishnet top, a bright green tutu, neon pink knee high socks, sandals, black gloves which only really covered his fingers (why were those a thing?), a pirate hat, and to complete the look- a child's arts and crafts project-esque half masquerade mask. Honestly under normal circumstances, Virgil would have likely snuck a picture of the man so he could later tell his friends that he wasn't crazy, and there was indeed a man with a mask of Elmer’s glue, macaroni, and feathers at his local bank.

“You all are great at following orders, adorable!” The robber clapped as everyone froze, but Virgil got the feeling it was more out of confusion than fear. Also, weren’t robbers supposed to cover themselves up so they’re unidentifiable? Underneath the fishnet top the robber’s torso was covered in intricate (and cool looking) tattoos which seemed like they’d be pretty helpful in identifying the man. But even so the robber took a few steps forward, and any feelings of confusion and anything else faded from Virgil instantly as the robber moved to where he and others were sitting.

“Oh it’s fine if you call the cops by the way!” The robber shouted over to the tellers. “I already let people know I was coming!” When he looked back to the people before him and waved the knife from them to the floor. “Off the chairs!”

No one hesitated, rather Virgil quickly got onto the ground as he mentally began to catalog if he had anything valuable on him that could be taken. There was little to no money in the account he was closing. The rings on his fingers were pretty cheap, was his phone his only valuable? No he had his laptop didn’t he? Because after lunch he was going to go back to Janus’ place to chill. Wait no he had left his bag in the car. His laptop was safe. So just a phone. He could live without his phone. Maybe? Probably? He had never tried and never wanted to, but maybe this was the time to detach himself a-

“You!” The robber started pointing at Virgil and derailing Virgil’s pointless previous thoughts into an oblivion. “Help me move these chairs.”

Virgil was more than confused, were they going to barricade the door? The thought was enough to quicken his pulse a bit, but he forced himself to stay as calm as possible as he rose from the floor and grabbed one of the waiting area chairs. The robber grabbed another and dragged it to the front door, so Virgil hefted his and followed to the front door where he left his. Virgil put down his own chair unsure of what to do, but the robber led him back so they could grab two more chairs. With four chairs now at the front door, the robber opened it and dragged one of the chairs out and a more than perplexed Virgil followed suit. Directly outside of the bank up on the sidewalk was a beat up gray pickup truck which was covered in “artful” streaks of different colored spray paint. (But Virgil did note that the truck's license plate was covered in green duct tape so at least the robber had done something to make himself harder to catch). The robber walked up and hoisted a chair with a grunt and tossed it in the back before he did the same with Virgil’s. “Grab the other two.”

Was he stealing... the chairs? Not the valuables? Not the money?

The absurdity of it all was only confirmed once all four chairs were in the back of the truck, and a cold hand on Virgil’s shoulder steered him back into the bank.

“Attention! Attention!” The robber called as if he didn’t already have their undivided attention. “I appreciate all of you for cooperating with this robbery. Those chairs will be great in my living room. So, have an awesome day!” And just like that, he grabbed one of Virgil’s hands and placed the knife in it and then walked out the bank leaving a stunned silence which lasted a few moments before the sound of a truck driving off was heard.

Virgil looked down at the knife placed in his hand in shock as the past few minutes replayed in his mind making less sense than they had initially.

~~~~

It wasn’t long after the newspaper had called to say that someone was intent on robbing the bank in a way that “would go down in the history books”, that the panic button for the bank was pressed.

Logan and his team were quick to respond. They had to be prepared for everything, so Logan was already processing what the scene would look like upon arrival. Had the robber already left? Or had they stayed and taken hostages? Was anyone hurt- or worse? Did the robber just want money? Or was there more to it? These were the things the detective was forced to process as he and the other police officers pulled onto the scene. What he hadn’t expected however was to watch as a family walked in the bank casually just as a few people came out and went about their day. But one of them noticed Logan and approached- and when he did Logan was quick to notice the glint of silver he saw barely hidden in the young man’s grasp. He tensed, but he ordered those around him to stand down and wait. Something was off.

“The robber left,” the young man called as he came closer. “If you could even call him a robber… or I guess it’s technically a robbery?”

Logan took in the man’s appearance. He looked more tired than anything, given the dark circles around his eyes, but he also looked very very confused.

“What do you mean?” He probed.

“Uh well he came in. Said it was a robbery. Then made me help him put some chairs in the back of his truck. And then he gave me this knife- which isn’t actually a real knife I now know. And then he just left.”

Logan felt himself relax far too quickly as he tried to process the bizarre words. “He took chairs? And drove off?”

“Yeah. Do you guys want the knife? It’s like one of the prop ones you see on tv shows?” He held it up and pressed down on the blade and watched as it retracted into the hilt. “It’s kind of cool not gonna lie.”

“It’s- it’s evidence,” Logan told him. “As crazy as this sounds. Can we get your account in a more formal statement?”

All of the stories he was told were the exact same. That an eccentric man had come in, stolen four chairs, thanked them for their time, and then left.

It was complete insanity and stupidity.

“I don’t even know if I want to press charges,” the bank owner told him. “It doesn’t seem worth it, but at the same time I don’t want people coming in and just taking things.”

Logan was quick to advise her that she should indeed press charges no matter how strange the happenings. But quite frankly this was not a case he was looking forward to working.

It hadn’t taken him longer than a day before Logan found himself knocking on the culprit's door. When it opened he held up his badge. “Remus Regis?”

“That’s me,” Remus nodded, leaning on his door frame- aside from missing the mask... was he wearing the same clothes from yesterday? “Watcha need? If it’s refreshments I am fresh out.”

“No. My name is Logan Ackroyd and I’m investigating a case. The truck in the driveway is yours I presume? It’s registered in your name after all.“

“That’s my baby Sherry.”

“Right. Well, Sherry was seen in a robbery yesterday-”

“What?” The man asked with a false gasp. “I swear I taught my kids better than that.”

The cop gave an annoyed sigh, “Sir, you’re under arrest.”

“Why did you do it?” Logan asked when they were down at the station. “Four chairs? What’s even the point?”

“How’d you find me and Sherry?” Remus asked instead.

“Your truck stands out on any CCTV footage. We followed it back to your house and then ran the license plate for your name. But please answer my question. What is there to gain by stealing chairs?”

“Hey hey! They are nice chairs. And furniture is expensive. Figured I could decorate my house for a bit and then I could sell them online for a pretty decent price, I mean they’re not just chairs, they’re fancy bank chairs. There’s a difference. Also, also, also! I have gone down in history haven't I?”

Logan gave an annoyed sigh, he felt was definitely losing brain cells during this conversation. “And you’re willing to go to jail for that?”

Remus gave him a pleased smile, “I mean sure, long as you’re my warden.”

“Enjoy prison sir.”

“I doubt I’ll get much time.”

“There can be large fines for robberies in conjunction with the prison time. They're thousands of dollars.”

The smile that had adorned Remus’ face fell at once. “And… and how do I avoid that?”

“I’m no lawyer, but I assume the easiest way is to not rob the bank at all.”

“…Coward.”

Logan held in an eye roll as he moved to exit the room, but he had forgotten one thing. “The chairs are being returned.”

Remus shouted an over dramatic “no” after him but Logan was happy to close the door in between him as went to report to his boss. He was really going to need a day off.

#remus sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remus is chaotic #robbery #theyre tired of remus and they just met him #bank robbery #chairs

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twinstarlovers · 1 year

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You know this is interesting.. my friend knows I’m sick right & she knows I cut my old friend off right & like she was like I’m probably sick because I’m going through withdrawals from her & the thing is I’ve cut her off before but this is actually the end for us & my soul actually feels it so it’s like.. yeah suffering rn lol. Maybe in a few years we’ll bump into each other. Maybe not. It just makes me sad that I won’t see her baby grow up. It doesn’t feel nice to see the baby randomly grown up. I wanna be there though it all but I mean… I can’t stay friends w her for a kid. But hmmm that’s interesting. I asked my tik tok tarot cards & they are saying the same thing. Keep in mind that I never get sick like ever. I was thinking it’s cus I’m so used to the cold that I’m getting sick cus it’s hot over here like the change in temperatures is hard to adjust to. I’ve been taking medicine & it’s not working. The ones I’m taking anyways. I wonder if it’s cus as I said it’s a soul thing & medicine can’t take that away like I have to wait this out. Also I think this is a test, me being sick cus this morning my grandpa was getting buried & I didn’t go. I was thinking if I should’ve gone but I was like nah. I would only be going to make others feel good & cus I feel like I have an obligation to be there. I would be self sabotaging cus I’m sick & I know I would not feel good being there. Plus I wanted to go as a way to say goodbye but that would mean I really don’t believe he’s eternal & that he will always communicate & be there w me. He has been so I have to believe that he always will. (The Hannah Montana song is playing 🥹🧸💕. This song reminds me of you now every time it comes on 💗 SIT BACK AND SAY TO MYSELF) but yeah I feel like shit cus I’m coming across as so selfish but I shouldn’t care what everyone thinks of me cus I know I care & I know where I stand w my grandpa & I don’t gotta prove it to anyone. I told my mom to tell my grandma I’m sorry I can’t be there & she was like that she understands which is good I guess. Idk. It feels right to be there for my family. That’s something I should be there for, that’s what makes me feel like shit but it’s fine I guess. I gotta put myself first cus im sick. Not only that, if I were to go I would ruin it for everyone cus I would be complaining that I’m sick & shit so it’s best that everyone gets to say goodbye in peace & not worry about me. I feel like ima live to regret not going but no… I have to move on. Omg I kinda am getting emotional but the moon is in cancer today so. I’m just imagining him getting buried, not being able to process he’s gone, saying goodbye but no… it’s an illusion. I gotta tell myself death is just an illusion. I still can’t process he’s gone tho, maybe cus I know he’s not so my soul can’t process it. When I got to my grandmas house, I started crying cus I could feel his absence. I’m never even there but that was the energy. The energy was strong. His sister was crying when we got there too so she probably felt the energy too. It felt like…. something is just missing… something that gave the house life is gone. You felt the absence intensely. I don’t know how but I did. He loved it here in El Salvador. It’s crazy cus I think last time I came, he took a picture of his moms grave & you see his shadow & now he got buried next to her. This whole situation on how he died is just so sad & fucked up. When you & I get together I’ll tell you everything but it’s quite a story. But sorry for saying so much lol. I need my account back lmao. I’ve felt my cousins absence before when he used to live at his old house too. He’s not dead but the family shunned him which considers him dead but I started crying in that moment too cus he’s what gave the house life. Idk how or why I feel these things. Yes I’m an empath but still. It’s actually really sad cus my grandma & grandpa grew up together & then they were together till now. They are both Taurus’s lol. They had my gift out here, the light w my grandpas face & shit :,) , everyone was like they loved it… to be continued

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luvdsc · 2 years

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[!] TEASER — barbie girl.

if life is plastic (and therefore, nonbiodegradable), then it’s so not fantastic. honestly, who came up with that? regina george really should’ve googled about the new plastics economy.

or alternatively, pretty girls rule the world, and you find out that he’s (not) all that.

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: comedy, angst, fluff ⋮ makeover + college au word count :: 1,548 out of est. 15k - 20k words warnings :: jujutsu kaisen spoilers, body issues, body image, weight mentions, insecurities, beauty is a social construct, lana and moon taking pity on my extremely lacking anime knowledge and helping me out, so much gaslighting that you can start a wildfire and j*ke gyll*nh*al should take notes, “if a man talks shit then i owe him nothing” playlist :: barbie girl (aqua) ⋆ pretty boys (romi) ⋆ look what you made me do (taylor swift) ⋆ invu (taeyeon) + extended playlist coming soon. author’s note :: i love she’s all that with my whole heart, but i’ve always been very //: at the whole makeover trope and decided to write my own version, so take that as you will !! ↳ part of the 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collaboration series.

Na Jaemin does not know that you exist.

Good looking, charismatic, and popular — it’s his world, and you’re just living in it. Or something like that. You’re decently smart, somewhat funny, and not pretty enough to stand out, but not exactly hideous according to societal standards (source: those beauty quizzes you used to be obsessed with in Cosmopolitan when you were thirteen and in desperate need of flirting tips). If he was the main lead, you’d probably be Extra #6, maybe Extra #2 on a good day.

By your calculations, the two of you should never cross paths, like two parallel lines. Wait, scratch that, you would probably never be aligned with anything that has to do with this guy. You saw him standing outside of the door to your shared accounting classroom back in freshman year, and he spent twenty five minutes editing his picture for Instagram and ended up late for the lecture. Absolute idiot. Absolute handsome idiot, but idiot nonetheless. A grade A himbo with a grade C in financial accounting.

Okay, so scrap the parallel lines theory, maybe skew lines are a better way of explaining it. Yeah, that seems about right, the two of you are from completely different dimensions, never meant to interact or run parallel with each other. And once again, by this logic, your paths should never cross.

“Y/N!”

You stand corrected.

Na Jaemin does know that you exist.

You suddenly remember that there was that one small group presentation in that very same aforementioned accounting class, and you were assigned to the same group as Jaemin. Armed with this rediscovered memory, you are going to revise your earlier response and say that the correct descriptor for your relationship is perpendicular lines. That sounds right. Final answer. You’re locking it in.

Your paths should have only intersected once, the two of you should be going in different directions, and even though you’re in another class with him again this semester, not once have the two of you had a proper conversation with each other (He asked you to pass a note once, but that barely counts). Jaemin should have forgotten you by now, and you should be continuing on with your side character life that you’re very much content with.

So then why on earth is he shouting your name like you’re old friends and causing what feels like every person within a one mile radius to stare at you?

He’s unknowingly giving you your main character moment, and you very quickly realize that you do not feel like the Y/N in any one of those Gojo fanfics you read religiously at three in the morning when you should really be studying or sleeping.

Instead, you feel like a bug watching its impending doom as a Doc Marten boot starts to descend at an alarming speed and you can’t even try to scuttle out of the way to avoid it. Frozen in your spot, you can only watch as your university’s it boy skids to a stop in front of you after running across the grass and flashing you his million dollar smile. “Hey, Y/N, right? We have ECON 13 together.”

Starstruck, your mind to mouth filter is completely shot, and all you manage to let out is a very uncool “Uh huh.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, and you feel like all the oxygen has been knocked out of your lungs, too. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, Jaemin tilts his head to the side slightly, the sunlight catching his profile perfectly, and your breath hitches in your throat once more.

“I know this is gonna sound really, uh, forward since we barely know each other and all, but—”

You’re barely listening to him, your heart pounding in your chest and the blood rushing to your ears. It’s pretty embarrassing to see how a near stranger with a pretty face can affect you this much. You really thought you had a much stronger willpower than this, but it’s so goddamn unfair how this boy standing in front of you has the most perfectly sculpted face you’ve ever seen. Plus, his eyelashes? Why the hell do boys always get the prettiest, thickest, and darkest lashes?

Meanwhile, you’re out here struggling to force your perpetually straight, stubby lashes into a curl that ends up lasting only a couple hours, even when you use waterproof mascara. You still end up with flat lashes and you have to feverishly scrub your eyes to remove the blasted makeup and lose a few cherished lashes in the process.

“—out with me?” Jaemin finishes, and you belatedly realize that you did not catch a single word that he said, caught in your inner monologue and too busy ogling. However, your heart flutters in your chest when you catch the last part of his question. Not to be too presumptuous, but it sounds like he’s asking you out. Why else would anyone randomly stop you like this and talk to you for this long? You’re positively giddy at this revelation. This is your moment, the one you’ve been waiting for your whole life, like Rapunzel waiting in her tower for the one to come and save her from her horribly mundane, repetitive life.

“Oh! Um… yes?” It’s a 50/50 chance between yes or no, and you hope that’s the correct answer he’s looking for.

Jaemin’s face immediately brightens, and he turns his smile up another kilowatt, nearly blinding you. You grin back at him, squinting a little. This must be how Icarus felt when he flew towards the sun.

“Oh shit, really? You’re really agreeing to tutor me? Hyuck—you know, our class’s peer TA—said I was a hopeless cause, and I would need way more one on one lessons outside of his hours and all that if I wanted to pass. And yeah, I know I could probably bitch at him until he caves since we’re kind of friends, but he would also hold this over my head, but he said you had the highest score on last week’s midterm, so I thought, ‘hey, why not shoot my shot?’” He shoots another smile your way, pausing for a quick breath. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, and his smile isn’t helping whatsoever as your heart decides to join in this race as well until it sinks when you finally process his words.

“Wait, Donghyuck said that about me?” you manage to get out, a little dazed, and Jaemin confirms before eagerly continuing on with his chatter, but all you can do is stupidly nod as the word “TUTOR” spins around and around in your mind in bold, italicized, underlined mocking red letters in Times New Roman font, size 12, double spaced, MLA format, the whole shebang.

Of course, he only wants a tutor. What made you think that a boy like him would look twice at a girl like you? The only other time a guy has ever expressed interest in you is to share homework answers for Calculus back in 10th grade (For the record, all of his answers were completely wrong, but Sungchan was a cute distraction).

“Anyways, can I have your number? I can text you to match our schedules and figure out the times to meet up for the next couple of weeks before our next midterm.” You remain wide eyed, gazing at him like a deer caught in the headlights and still attempting to fully understand everything that has just happened.

Jaemin looks at you expectantly, his hand outstretched towards you with his phone tucked between his fingers. The device dangles there for an additional ten seconds that probably isn’t socially acceptable. Grab the phone, you scream at yourself silently, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.

“Or, I can just… uh, type in your number if you tell me,” Jaemin says awkwardly, his smile wilting slightly as he shifts from one foot to the other under your unwavering gaze and slowly retracting his hand. Finally, you come to your senses as you quickly spring into action and snatch the phone from him, tapping in your digits and adding in your name and shared class before saving your contact.

“Here,” you mutter, returning his phone, and he gives you a relieved grin. You clutch onto the strap of your backpack a little tighter, cursing the way your heart skips a beat. “I should be free most weekday afternoons since I prefer to take all morning classes, but let me know when you’re free and we can work something out.”

“Awesome! Thank you so much, Y/N, you’re a life saver.” Jaemin beams at you, touching your shoulder briefly and you feel that very same place on your body erupt in flames as your face heats up in a similar manner. “I’ll text you tonight, yeah?”

You can only numbly nod, subconsciously raising your hand and waving at him, and Jaemin chuckles, flashing his pearly whites at you again, before he saunters off and blends into a group of other equally pretty and popular students, a few of whom look over at you with vague interest before turning their attention back to the boy who just joined them.

What have you gotten yourself into?

COMING SOON — 2022.

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