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tealfloyd · 2 years

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LOOKING GREAT IN A DAY OF HAVOC

“If MC’s going to die, at least she would do it with style~”

SUMMARY: After a stressing week of homework, MC has to spend her free day with every dorm; to top it off, she drinks Grim’s unknown potion (Everyone x Fem!Reader).

WARNINGS: Death mentions but as a joke (?) There’s not really anything triggering, I think.

CONTENT: MC changes her dress everytime she enters a dorm. Wedding mentions in Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Scarabia and Diasomnia. Every outfit is inspired on the villain except Scarabia. WORDS: 6K+

A/N: I’m glad some of you actually liked this concept, I’m not really good describing dresses and anything regarding clothes if I’m being honest, but I tried my best.

Now onto the fic~

It's six in the morning and you already feel tired, groggily standing up to overcome the busy day you have ahead.

Last week you had to do a lot, and when I say a lot is a lot, of homework; so much that you had barely seen yourself in the mirror (Vil gasped at that because your hair was starting to look like a bird’s nest).

Because of that, the time you usually spent with your friends decreased greatly, the only interaction that you had with them being a quick greeting; and sometimes your overworked mind didn't process the 'hi, MC' they were pronouncing.

When you had free time to spend with them (mostly half an hour or less), they asked you if you wanted to participate in some of their activities. Absentmindedly, you agreed to it, scribbling down on your paper without actually knowing what you were saying yes to, only saying the day you would be free.

That day has come, and it’s stuffed to the brim with different events featuring every dorm.

It was a miracle that the hours didn't collide, and it’s not like you could cancel; you have seen how eager they were when you said yes, and you didn't want to disappoint them.

Once you showered you walked down the stairs, heading to the kitchen so you could get a boosting drink, not really thinking about taking breakfast when the first thing on the list was assisting to Heartslabyul's tea party.

You saw a glass of juice sitting on the top glass of the fridge, and you decided to give it a try, because what’s the worst that could happen?

It tasted bitter, and you frowned at the flavour, gagging while placing the now empty cup on the countertop, almost letting it drop when a yell came out of nowhere.

“Henchman! What are ya' doing!?” Grim hurried over to your side, recognizing the singular vase you were previously holding.

“Ah, drinking juice?” You sent him a confused look while washing the cup. “You made it? You could have added more sugar to it...”

“That wasn't juice MC!” Now you’re confused.

“What—?”

“That was my credit potion for Crewel's class!”

Oh, oh.

You dropped the cup in horror and shock, being at a loss of words.

“Why the hell would you put an unknown potion in the fridge!?” You started to drink water, hoping that would ease the effects of whatever you just drank.

“I suppose I may have forgot to take it out... But that doesn't matter! Now I don't have anything to present!” You stood there, ominously glaring at him. Grim really has to be grateful that looks can't kill.

“Grim, what was the potion for?” Your tone causes him to have shivers down his spine,

having a murderous aura along with piercing and threatening eyes.

“Ah, well, I... Really don't know...” He muttered the last part, but it was still heard by you, only increasing your rage.

“You don't know!?” You calmed yourself down after seeing Grim at the verge of tears, taking deep breaths. “Okay, if it's for a Crewel's class it can't be poison, but you made it so that means... It can be poison."

You started to walk towards the front door, turning your head at him before exiting through it. “We will deal with this later, that is if I'm not dead. For the meantime, I expect this place to be completely clean when I come back."

Certainly, it's the greatest day of your whole life, and probably your last.

HEARTSLABYUL’S FORMAL GUEST

A ball gown. Hollow to floor with large, black sleeves. Uncovered shoulders blades lead to puffy forearms, made with a very soft material. It had a smooth lace tracing the neckline, and also a corset, which was perfectly adjusted. The wide skirt was the main attraction, waving at the minimum movement. The colours resembled those of Heartslabyul; the red, black and white harmonizing beautifully, looking like a dress a Queen would wear. A royal bun, loose but not enough that it would look messy. A few strands of hair were placed on both sides of your hair, topping it with a small crown.

Heartslabyul was trying something new. A breakfast tea party, clearly following the strict rules so that it would be a meeting worth of the Queen of Hearts; and you, obviously.

Ace and Deuce pestered asked you for the whole week, insisting that you should come and even giving you a fancy invitation with Riddle’s neat handwriting on it, stating: “You are formally invited to partake in the Breakfast's Tea Party of Heartslabyul, the next Saturday at 8:00AM."

The duo had barely seen you the whole weekend, and they were with you in the same classes, so imagine the time you spent with the others.

They saw the chance of talking to you in the lunch, thing you were doing outside of the cafeteria so you could get more work done in peace. Not that you can really be in peace when being friends of these two dorks, who whined about you not loving them anymore.

You chuckled at the setup, and you asked what they wanted. A couple of seconds after the question, Ace shoved the letter on your face, telling you the contents before you even read it.

You said yes, it wasn't like you could refuse anyways, and some Trey's goods would cheer you up after so much work.

At your agreement they swore they could cry from excitement.

Got to say that when you passed through the portal, you didn't expect a wear such a fancy dress out of nowhere as the result of Grim's potion.

Riddle is so red you start to think he's sick. It's like he created a whole new shade when he saw you approaching the table, registering seconds later that you weren't wearing your usual clothes. After that, he's a complete mess. He is trying his best to not stutter or flinch whenever you try to engage a conversation, finding the tablecloth more interesting not really, but he doesn't want you to laugh at him because of his state. He also feels a bit conflicted, since the gown reminds him of his mother; his not so happy memories cross his mind, until, by accident, he sees you smiling at him. And his mind wanders to the thought of you using a wedding dress, and at that moment he realises he spilled his tea (which was thankfully warm) on his hand.

Trey is acting like his normal self. He actually seemed to be the only one who wasn't freaking out, but don't be mistaken; if you inspect his face, you can see a slight blush and a loving gaze directed at you. We can say that out of the five boys, he is the one more capable of holding a regular conversation, after all, he’s Heartslabyul mediator. He is even bold enough to lightly tease you about wearing such a formal attire to a tea party, yet he loves that you showed up like this, thinking that you planned it when we both know that wasn't the case.

Cater is taking pictures so fast that his phone can't register them all. His storage is suffering from the number of selfies and photos he has of you, just from today. But can you blame him? He wants to preserve this moment, only posting a few ones so everyone can see how amazing you are. He would probably, probably delete them from his Magicam if you asked, but there is no way he would delete all of the other ones. How can he erase such precious memories? He would have to be insane to do that!

Ace is that kindergarten kid who has a crush on you. We all know that, yes, but it can't be ignored. Actually, he can't be ignored, since he's messing with your bun and your crown, even putting in on himself. He only stops when you get too annoyed or when Riddle scolds him. Don't have too much faith though, there's no way to stop him; he's a force of nature, the force that wouldn't stop until you pay him attention.

Deuce stops functioning. His brain cells are working so hard to try to maintain a normal interaction with you, but eventually they just give up, leading you to snap your fingers in order to get a reaction. He can't believe he lived long enough to see this part of you, and curiously, he has the same train of thought as Riddle; your dress could be a wedding dress, it just needs to be painted white- And, he’s out.

When you realised what you were wearing, you let out a huge sigh of relief, thinking that this were the effects of the potion and not a horrible death, so at least you get to live another day in this twisted wonderland.

You didn't really care about the dress. Sure, you thought it was beautiful, but it was just a dress, right?

No, it’s not just a dress.

You wondered if the potion had a different effect when suddenly everyone got quiet, and then, boom, five flustered boys at your service.

You couldn't explain the situation because some of them were too busy surrounding you or stop functioning, so you told them what happened around an hour later when they calmed down.

In general, we have four boys who're blushing so hard it rivals Riddle's hair, and one boy who doesn't make it that obvious.

Overall, pretty great experience, you got to eat good food and it was a pretty interesting sight.

SAVANACLAW’S NEW APPRENTICE

A large, sheath dress. Ruffles adorned the hem while the shades transitioned towards the waist, where a lace was tied up, matching the initial colours and patterns, making it a subtle but elegant detail. It was of a soft yellow with some gold motifs, which you thought resembled the Afterglow Savannah, were spread all-over, giving light to a majestic dress. Two braids, which interlaced to create the illusion of a crown; speaking of it, you also had some light, golden feathers tightly adjusted so they wouldn't fall off, the main ornament being a crown with a rose gold jewel.

You complained to Jack one day after a Spelldrive practice in Vargas class, saying that you wished you could be better at it so the others would stop laughing at you, clearly meaning it as a joke.

Well, Jack took it seriously. He went to Leona and asked if you could be part of the Spelldrive training one day, and the lion actually thought about it, thinking about how he hadn't seen you the whole week, so spending some time with you would be nice.

Jack came to you when you were walking to your dorm, being extremely careful because you were holding a huge stack of books, necessary for your notes.

He immediately retrieved the majority of them from you, taking this chance at talking to you to ask if you wanted to join the Spelldrive training at Savannaclaw one day.

You said yes, saying that you could do it the next Saturday, though you had to admit you were confused at the sudden request, and you must have made a frown because Jack told you what you said before.

You laugh at his thoughtfulness, lightly teasing him about it, and he just shrugs it off, with red ears and a happy, waging tail.

And now you are wondering if you should cancel it because how the hell are you going to practice with such a dress?

Leona's first thought when he saw you was that he passed out while sleeping. He took a short nap while waiting for you to arrive, opening his eyes when he heard your greeting, about to affectionately grumble. Instead, he was found staring at you, cheeks starting to become red when realising the kind of accessory you were wearing. He doesn't really focus on the dress, but on your hair, the style and the crown normally used by brides in his home place. He snaps from his trance fairly quickly, and the only thing that gives him away is his faint blush and the way he avoids looking at you for too long, almost telling you that you look on it, but it turns into a teasing comment. Well, it's the thought what counts.

Ruggie dropped his shopping bags, too stunned to take into account that he had eggs there. He went to Sam's earlier that morning, since he had some discounts, smiling to himself at the cheap shopping session, before he heard you calling him. He didn't look at you at first, but when he did, holy mother of Pearl... The rustling of the bag and the crashing of the eggs colliding with the floor was all the sound he processed. He also knows about the hairstyle and the ornament, blushing deeper when you ask him if he's okay. He laughs in embarrassment while answering that he is fine as fine as someone with a huge crush on you can be.

Jack is trying so hard to not be flustered. And if he didn't have a tail it would've worked, because its speed could rival that of Sonic the opm one or the Sega one, take your pick. Because he’s a runner, he has great control over his heart rate, so he can actually talk to you and be calm, or at least for him it seems like it. He doesn't know about the hairstyle, but he does know about the eye-catching thing on your head. He told you that you looked great, also asking why you're wearing that when it was supposed to be a practice session, but he is not complaining.

You had to apologise and explain the reasoning of your clothes. You heard Leona grumble something about taking care of Grim, while Ruggie and Jack shook their heads in disappointment and disbelief.

Safe to say that you didn't make any major efforts while being there. They refused to let you practice in that dress, only doing basic stretching standing up and correcting your position. Other than that, nothing.

It's not that they didn't want you to practice with them, but if you dress was damaged during the process, dear Sevens, they wouldn't forgive themselves.

So, you passed the remaining hour in the bench, watching them as they explained the basics and doing short demonstrations, paying full attention as that was the only thing you could do.

Once the time was done, you bid them goodbye, thanking them for the help as you promised that the next time you would come back with better clothes.

The next time.

They can't help but think of the sight of you in a large, divine wedding dress, and Leona is contemplating the idea of getting you one.

OCTAVINELLE’S UNFORTUNATE TASTE-TESTER

A mermaid-shaped dress. A long skirt made its way to the floor, a silky and shiny fabric layering over it so it wouldn't look plain. It was mainly black, but it had a gradient shade of marine dark blue and purple in the top and the hem, contrasting greatly with the translucent, white scarf that was situated over your shoulders. Soft curls. The volume of your hair increased, outlining the sea-themed hair pins that were placed at one side, giving an elegant air to the look.

These guys were sly. They asked you when you were at the lounge, drinking a little bit more of Jade's tea as you kept writing, not noticing the thoughtful stare that Azul was sending you, nodding at the twins as they approached you.

Your workflow was disrupted when you heard Floyd's loud sigh, as well as Jade's, and you raised an eyebrow at the sudden action.

They both complained very loudly that you were forgetting them, Floyd literally draping over you as crocodile tears invaded his eyes.

You sighed too, telling them that you're sorry so they would drop the theatrics, asking what you can do to make it better, all while continuing typing, a difficult task when you have such a tall boy hugging you.

Azul coughs, and you shift your attention to him. He says that you can do them all a favour, and you're already expecting the worse the moment you see his mischievous smile, along with those of the twins.

He mentioned having some menu ideas, but he needed a loyal customer to try them out, obviously talking about you, and you had no other option than to accept, doing a small pout as you said the day.

Maybe you were supposed to die today either way.

Azul is ready to welcome you with his perfect smile (which he definitely practiced just for this situation), only for this façade to break when he saw you so... Elegant. He quickly tries to hide it, but there's no use when Jade and Floyd saw the whole thing, and he knows he would never hear the end of it after this. He acts all gentlemanly, but that's just because he tries to be prepared for every situation he could get flustered around you, and let's just say that is not working. He is capable of hold a normal conversation most of the time, so cooperate with him, he might even give you a free meal as payment.

Jade is staring, and you don't know how to feel about it. He knows how to hide his feelings better than Azul when it comes to you, so he doesn't really have anything that makes it obvious about his crush on you. He offers you his arm, asking about the reasoning of your really fancy attire, and his curiosity and interest just sparks when you told him what happened that morning. My, are you really that unaware of your surroundings? Then he supposes he has to stay with you for a few days to make sure you don't endanger yourself further.

Floyd doesn't even notice it at first. The one and only thing that Floyd makes when he sees you is making a bee line, running, towards you so he can tackle you into one of his affectionate squeezes. He's too busy cooing at you and being happy about you showing up that he fails to register the gorgeous gown you just appeared with. In all honesty, he doesn't care. I mean, sure, he thinks you look amazing on it, but he's interested by your personality and actions more. Yet this certainly serves as a boost for his attention, so I’m just going to say that you have to be prepared.

You mentally cursed at this dorm's design, because it was nearly impossible for you to escape in this dress, and before you could even think about trying it, you felt yourself being lifted several inches from the floor while hearing Floyd's happy noises.

You didn't even have to walk as he was carrying you the entire time, shifting to a bridal style when Jade told him that it wasn't very proper of him to carry you as if you were a sack of potatoes.

Azul stood next to you, making sure that the food was of your taste and that you seemed happy with it, trying to set you free from the taller twin's grasp, who utterly refused as he hugged you tighter.

It made the eating aspect more difficult, but your worries vanished when tasting the first plate; a delighted gasp leaving your lips as you continued eating, hearing a relieved exhale from Azul and a small giggle from Jade.

Most of the plates presented to you were pretty good, and you hummed contently when drinking a vase of water, checking the hour on your phone.

Oh no.

Excusing yourself, you managed to set free from Floyd's grasp, thanking them for the delicious food and stating which ones were your favourites, hurriedly leaving as if you were Cinderella when the clock strikes midnight.

Well, it wasn't midnight, but it was midday, and that meant that you had to soothe the clingy boy to let you, promising him that you would be with him the next day, and with that, you set you path towards Scarabia.

SCARABIA’S RECENT TRAINEE

A low riding red harem pants and a black off the shoulder top, connecting both garments with translucent stripes, which graded from black to red to make sure that it made sense. Everything was covered with golden chains with some intricate jewels, tinkling at the contact. The pants had a black fire design at the bottom, looking a lot like the original Scarabia uniforms. Low ponytail. It was held up by two golden bands, ending in a small swirl. The main accessory being a golden headband with a sapphire embellished to it.

Kalim was known for being happy most of the time. Most of the time. The poor boy thought you were mad at him when you barely paid him any attention in the span of that long, long week.

It went to the point in which he thought you would forgive him for whatever misdeed he had done by buying you anything that reminded him of you, and there was nothing that Jamil could do to stop him.

You visited Scarabia one day, Jamil's suggestion of helping you with some history questions had you walking there; you certainly didn’t expect to see what a surprise a huge stack of gifts, neatly piled up in the dorm's living room.

You had to reassure Kalim that you weren't mad at him, just overworked, and his face bright up once again, happily hugging you.

He told you that Jamil will be helping him with some dance moves, and the latter was forced to cover Kalim's mouth, but it was too late; the box had been opened, and so did your curiosity.

You accepted, telling them that you would be free the next day (aka, the infamous Saturday), much to Jamil's dismay. He exhaled, hiding his flushed face in his hoodie while thinking of the fact that you would practice with him.

Kalim is confused, but is a good type of confused; he doesn't know why you're using this outfit, in fact, he didn’t even realise that you weren’t using different clothes in the first place: he tends to have tunnel vision when he spots you, slowly dissipating after some seconds and that’s when he takes notice of the outfit, and then, he remains quiet. And that’s starting to worry you because is weird that Kalim isn’t talking about his excitement and being around you like a puppy. You went up to him and he stutters about how beautiful you look; sweet things you would expect from a boy like him. Though he has to ask where did you get the traditional headband that engaged woman use in his land.

You can’t even see Jamil’s face at first, his hoodie hiding his flushed face as soon as he saw you. That way he can actually talk to you, instead of being a literal rock, because he doesn’t want you to see him in such a state, with pink cheeks and a love-struck gaze. He does tell you that you look good, in a very… Jamil way; suddenly asking why you’re wearing that, muttering a: ‘It looks good on you’, regretting it almost immediately because now you’re asking him if you heard correctly. He cuts you off and says that you all have to start stretching, ears burning in embarrassment.

After explaining the story, you saw a completely worried Jamil, who scolds you about your reckless reasoning of drinking something that was obviously suspicious, all while Kalim is trying to calm him down.

You apologise while laughing, the fact that he’s concerned about you touches your heart and he stops at that, announcing that all of you had to stretch in order to maintain his composure.

The practice was fun; they taught you some of the traditional moves of the Scalding Sands and it was entertaining hearing all the jingles coming from your outfit, not noticing the mesmerizing stare that the boys were sending you.

You were there for approximately one hour, and that’s when you get a text from Vil.

You groaned, saving your phone, muttering a small: ‘Sorry, I have to go’.

Telling them you should do this other day, you left. When you did though, dear Kalim was starting to search similar clothes that he thought you would look great in, and surprisingly enough, Jamil didn’t stop him, curiosity getting the best out of him.

POMEFIORE’S UNEXPECTED MODEL

An A-line gown. This one was larger than the others, bringing along a long cape with it. The plan palette contrasting the golden glitter on the hem of the cape, a black and smooth surface that you could see through it, but just at the end. The main colours were a dark shade of purple for the dress and black for everything else, with some glances of gold in the accessories, but that was it. A loose braided crown, with a real one over it; the beautiful yet simple design being a delight to the eye, as well as the rubies adorning it.

Epel begged (and when I say he begged was that he was on his knees, looking like he was praying) for you to come with him at the modelling session that Vil will have for him.

You were there, baffled at this out of nowhere action, and in the heat of the moment (mostly to make the boy stand up) you agreed.

This time though, you couldn’t choose a date, because it was programmed from the start, so at least you’re thankful your mind didn’t mess up this one.

You haven’t had the experience of being with the Vil Schoenheit in a clothes trying affair, but it was definitely something that was worth trying, regardless if the experience itself was good or bad.

He thanked you, quickly standing up fixing his uniform so Vil wouldn’t scold him, unaware that Rook was hearing the conversation, animatedly walking towards his dorm leader so he could break the news to him.

When he heard this, he brainstormed ideas and even considered getting you a Pomefiore uniform, thinking of ways to convince you to use it.

Vil’s face betrays him as he shows his astounded expression. It seems like he underestimated your fashion choices, but he’s puzzled because, MC? Why use such an elegant gown when you’re going to a clothes trial? Once he understands what happened though, his faith on you faded a little bit, but don’t worry MC, he will make sure you know how to compliment your natural beauty. He’s inspecting the dress as you stand there, getting dizzy for all the turns he was making you do. Letting a hum of approval, he mentions something about buying you both matching outfits- Scratch that, he decided he would make them himself.

Rook is kneeling before you, literally. He always praises you for everything you do and everything you wear, and this isn’t the exception. He takes your hand so gently, afraid that you would be scared by his antics, but he smiles against the soft skin of your palm when you tilt your head, looking adorably confused. It didn’t last long as Vil retrieved you from his grasp, annoyed. He chuckled at that, thinking about how to take care that his Trickster didn’t accidentally poison herself.

Epel has his mouth shaped like a ‘o’. He’s the first to ask, very loudly may I add, why the hell are you wearing that, but like, more soft since he was talking to you. After the story time, he lets out a small apology after Vil chided about manners with guests, his agitation quickly becoming embarrassment as he actually takes a good look at the costume; he needs a couple minutes to recover from the sudden shock, so don’t be harsh on him, it’s just that he’s passing through a lot of mixed feelings right now.

The truth is that you didn’t get to try any clothes on during your whole stance in Pomefiore; mostly because Vil was too busy checking the entire thing and Rook was by your side, making his job more difficult. Epel, as I said, is perplexed; should he feel relieved because Vil is focusing on you, or should he be mad that Vil is focusing on you? He doesn’t know.

Vil, being Vil, found a few errors in your unplanned dress, bringing a notebook with him so he could write things that he wanted to apply on the designs of the new one, and you get to see him do one of his rare, pure smiles out of giddiness.

He also inspected your hair, and as he did that, Rook approached to tell you one and another time that you were beautiful; that no one in earth could rival your ethereal being and you were worried what Vil would have to say about that.

Nevertheless, he hummed in response, and you were ecstatic.

Poor Epel tried to make a casual chat, but he was so nervous that his accent slipped and he had to endure a few minutes of Vil’s scolding, quietly thanking you for being there as you distracted him with a detail on your cape, and once again his attention was on you.

When the time was over, your legs and feet were sore after all the standing, thankful for the next event as it meant that you would get to sit down for the next hour.

You excused yourself, and what a shame that you didn’t see the guys pout as you crossed the door, as they were absolutely gold.

IGNIHYDE’S GAMING ROUGH DIAMOND

A short dress. From the largest we pass to the shortest, just a little bit up the knees; a robe cape that had a skull pin on the left part attached to it covering most part of it so the length wasn’t noticeable. In the end it had a cloudy texture and it looked like a goddess garment, creating the illusion as if you were walking on air. Apart from that, all the set was black, with some blue flames on it, which alluded to Hades powers. A Dutch braid. This one was also similar to a crown, but it seemed much bigger, the strands that came out of it perking up, tinted of an enticing shade of blue.

Idia was sulking the whole week. Only because you didn’t have time to play with him and he had to face the villains completely alone, as he was reminded during a cut scene of your charming laughter when you lost; something he never really understood, but it was cute nonetheless.

Ortho tried to convince him into going to Ramshackle, but just when it seemed like he was actually going, he curled up into a ball in his bed and refused to move.

The younger Shroud knocked on your door one afternoon, giving you a quick greeting as he asked you if you could come to Idia’s gaming session the Saturday.

You couldn’t refuse to Ortho, so you happily complied, wondering if he already knew that that day was your free day.

Idia let out a high pitched scream at the news; he hoped that he wouldn’t make fun of himself while being with you, something that was only possible if you were next to him, for real.

Hades better help him out to not die of shame.

Idia passes out. The only reason he wasn’t hurt when he woke up was because you managed to catch him on time, resting his head on your lap. He opened his eyes a few minutes later, meeting your concerned ones as you asked him if he was okay, and his hair combusted into pink flames at the heart-warming sight. He has already done the only thing he feared the most: embarrassing himself in front of you. He stands up so fast because of the adrenaline, trying to overcome the mortifying scene by making a teasing comment about your dress, and he ends up redder after your sincere thanks. You’re going to be the death of him, maybe quite literally.

The reason the session took longer to start was because both you and Ortho were trying to get Idia back to his senses, as he passed from a living dead state to a pink candle.

Somehow he calmed down, only looking at his phone because if he saw you he was sure he would pass out again, sighing in defeat at the recent memory.

Even after the awkward situation, the playing went smooth. You were pretty good in this game, a RPG with some rhythm elements added to it, along with the OP cards that you gained while spending your goods at the gacha some weeks ago.

You needed more practice, but the talent was there, and just when you were getting comfortable your phone played a catchy ringtone, indicating an upcoming phone call.

You didn’t have time to say ‘hello’ as Sebek was screaming at your unpunctuality, claiming that his young master had been sad for the past 10 minutes.

Exiting the game, you expressed your gratitude for letting them stay at your dorm, and Idia muttered: ‘You’re welcome to come whenever you want though’.

You compromised to play another game later on, and for the first time in the afternoon, Idia, willingly, exchanged looks with you, promptly regretting.

You left before he could pass out, and he would be forever grateful for that.

DIASOMNIA’S HUMAN PROFESSOR

A trumpet dress. It had a long tail, but it wasn’t longer than the Pomefiore one; either way, this gave more of a…Goth vibe, slightly damaged at the ends. The full circle cloak helped cover the bare shoulders, a little heavy since it was made of a thick fabric, yet it truly increased the royalty aura that you were exuding. It was mainly black, with the sparks being of a raven purple; the flashiest colour being the neon green situated on some details of the dress, along with the cord that maintained the cape secured around your form. Feather cut hairstyle. It didn’t have accessories, nor braids or any ties, the only thing over your head being two black horns that were glued on it; smaller than Malleus horns that is.

This time you weren’t the one being the guest or being taught something; you were the teacher. And it started when you were taking a break from the overwhelming study that you’ve been doing since the week started.

Malleus always strolls there at night, waiting for you, and when you didn’t come to visit, he was enraged; the anger becoming sadness when he thought that you were mad at him, or even worse, you didn’t want to be his friend anymore.

Because the two of you were in different years, the probability of spotting you down the hallway was very low, now add to the problem that you were passing most of your time in the library, the Mostro Lounge or your dorm; now that reduces the chances to zero.

Lilia tried to cheer him up, as well as Silver, and when Sebek knew about this he explained that you were busy with your homework, and that eased him up a little.

But just a little; Malleus is very possessive and he needs to see you to make sure you are okay, so he knocks the door one night, hearing the light creaking of the wood as it opened to reveal you.

He tried to refrain himself, but at the end, he ended up hugging you. It was comforting; you didn’t push him away and you stayed there, in silence, until you broke the ice by asking if he wanted you to pass by Diasomnia tomorrow.

He smiled, saying that it would be a pleasure to receive you in his dorm.

And that’s how you scheduled the plan, leaving it for last because the other things were already timed, reserving it for casual talking about your world and human customs.

Malleus takes your hand, gets down on one knee and is preparing his words to get you engaged to him, no jokes here. However, before he can say the magical words, Lilia awkwardly laughs and cuts him off, distracting you so he can say that it’s maybe a little too early for him to marry you. He strongly disagrees, but he does gain some awareness when told that that could ruin your friendship, so he accepts, defeated. But that is not going to ruin his mood; you being there, talking to him and happily telling some stories of your world is enough for now.

Lilia is delighted, his laughter echoing through the room after Malleus tried to wed you. The style of this dress really has a resemblance with those of the Briar Valley, but it’s very unique, and maybe it’s because you’re wearing it. Even though he stopped Malleus from proposing, his mind can’t help but think about you in a traditional wedding dress of his hometown. He wonders if he can get you to use it one day, yet it stops there when he hears you cackling because of some funny anecdote that you were telling. It’s better to cherish the present, he thinks.

Silver is awoken up suddenly because of Sebek’s scream at the action of his young lord. He takes a moment to process the scene as he opens his eyes, ready to defend his soon to be king, and that’s when he sees him kneeling in front of you; noting the kind of clothes you are wearing, his cheeks burning ever so slightly. When the commotion was over, he sat next to you, and he tried to stay awake, he really did, but the soothing tone of your voice relaxed him to the point where he places his head on top of yours, quiet snores leaving his mouth.

Sebek thinks you are really going to marry his young lord. If Lilia didn’t stop him, he would; out of anger at you for seducing his master, or jealousy because he liked you too? We would never know, but what I do know is that if it was the latter, he will feel remorseful of his feelings, mostly when he realised that you didn’t even planned to come like this at first. He shuts up for a second, mind rebooting because wow, human? Tell him why are you such a beauty?

Lilia took advantage when Sebek quiet down, hurriedly sitting you in the sofa while asking some questions about your universe.

That made way for everyone’s curiosity (except Silver, he was busy sleeping on top of your head) to perk up, the air being filled with different questions about the place where you came from.

Malleus asked about the wedding customs, mostly human ones, and Lilia was surprised, to say the least, when you responded every one without suspecting a thing. How oblivious can you be?

Lilia wanted to know some recipes, and you told him some that you thought they all would enjoy; but there’s no limits to Lilia’s menacing cooking, even if he doesn’t have to use the stove or the oven he still will manage to make horrible meals, so you were very careful with your words. A futile attempt for sure, but let’s continue.

Sebek asked about the royalty and everything regarding the upper class, since he was curious that in a world with no magic, people still obeyed humans with no magical abilities. Less to say that you don’t actually know how to respond that.

It was getting late, and you noticed that the time was almost up, so you excused yourself with the same manners as before; thanking and promising to meet them next time, walking back to Ramshackle.

At the end, Grim hadn’t done much, only a couple things were cleaned and he was sleeping soundly on the sofa with tuna cans surrounding him. You sighed at it, sitting down in the couch with your pyjamas on, softly caressing the fur of the creature.

Your phone started to beep, messages popping up on the screen of everyone you just saw today, and you chuckled at that, starting to respond to every single one of them.

Maybe the fancy clothes were gone, but the havoc will still continue.

THE END~

DON'T REPOST.

EVERY CHARACTER BELONGS TO DISNEY AND YANA TOBOSO, AND I DON'T TAKE CREDIT FOR THEM.

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acewritesfics · 3 months

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Can't Keep Doing This | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No

Warnings: Mentions of war, injuries.

Word Count: 1,478

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Just after 11 p.m., frantic knocking disturbs Y/N from her sleep. She's barely been sleeping for an hour, expecting to have a good night's sleep before getting up early the next morning. She grumbles her way down the stairs, tying the sash of her silk robe around her waist. She pulls the door open, ready to scold whoever disrupted her sleep, but her rage quickly turns to fear when she sees a bloody Tommy standing there, his breathing heavy and coming out in loud pants.

She quickly ushers him inside before closing and locking the door. She assists him into the kitchen, turning on the kitchen light as she walks to the table and helps him in sit down.

She hurries between her kitchen and bathroom, gathering any first-aid supplies she has on hand for such emergencies. Once everything is on the table, she gets a candle and some matches and places it next the supplies before lighting it and carefully helping Tommy in removing his coat, shirt, and undershirt.

"Bloody hell, Thomas. Who did you piss off this time?" She glances at him with disapproval and a hint of disappointment.

Tommy despises it when Y/N looks at him like that. He knows it shatters her heart to see him like this, to know he's out there almost every day risking his life because of what he does and who he deals with. This isn't the first time he's come to her with a gunshot or stab wound, or even a minor cut or a bruise on his cheek. Regardless of how it makes her feel, he always turns to her to tend to his wounds. She isn't just a nurse; she's his best friend and the only woman who hasn't left, aside from his Aunt Polly. Though he tried many times to drive her away for her own protection, his selfishness always pulled him back to her. He doesn't want her to abandon him as the previous women in his life has. He needs her as much as he needs air to breathe. He can't get through his troubled life without her.

"Drink this," she says, extending a half-drunk bottle of whiskey towards him after soaking a rag in it.

He takes it and drinks from the bottle. As the alcohol-soaked towel touches the bullet wound on his left arm, he winces slightly.

"I figured you'd be used to it by now," Y/N speaks out again, condemning him for the number of times she's had to patch him up. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Italians," he tells her before taking another swig of whiskey, trying to ignore the pain her poking and prodding was causing.

She didn't expect him to say much because he was a man of few words, but one word wasn't enough of an explanation for her.

"Believe it or not, it wasn't my fault this time," he hastily adds before she can continue.

"That'll be a first," she mumbles as she inspects his cleaned-up wound. "The bullet doesn't appear to have done any harm."

Before the war, she would feel queasy just by staring at a wound. The blood was more of an issue than the actual wound. It had been much worse before she decided to become a nurse to assist the sick. She was relieved to work in a ward where she saw more sick people than wounded people since her stomach couldn't bear it. But when war was declared, she didn't hesitate to enlist as a nurse to help where she could.

She wanted to help in any way she could, and by her tenth patient, with only four of them surviving their wounds, her queasiness had been replaced by guilt and a stronger determination to do everything she could to save these men's lives or make their final minutes or hours of life a little more comfortable.

"Now tell me the whole story," she says as she prepares a needle and thread to patch up bullet entrance and exit wounds.

Tommy braces himself and takes another gulp from the bottle of whiskey he's holding. He hardly flinches when the needle pierces his skin.

"We realised we had a traitor in the Peaky Blinders. Therefore, we were giving false information to a group of men we suspected it could be. It turns out he was one of those men. We found out who it was and dealt with him."

"The body found in the cut three days ago?" She wonders lifting the back of his arm to patch up the exit wound. It came as no surprise to her that Tommy and his brothers were involved. Nobody ever betrays the Peaky Blinders or the Shelbys and gets away with it.

She doesn't agree with what they were doing illegally, but she knows she can't change who they are or what they do. The war had already done that, and no one could be changed from what it had made them. Given what she experienced while serving as a nurse, she is more understanding than most of the women in their surroundings.

He gives a nod. "Some boy thought he was tough enough to play both sides. He wasn't even Italian; he was merely one of the boys' mates."

"Youngsters nowadays have no understanding of being tough. They never had to fight in a war. If they only knew what their fathers and uncles went through."

Tommy nods once again, agreeing with her. All he's done since returning from France is spark wars among the people of Birmingham and the surrounding regions, but none of these wars compare to the one they fought in France, the one that was fought all over the world. There would, sadly, be more wars. He could sense it. He just hopes that he will be too old or dead by the time the next world war occurs. He never wants to go through what he did in France again.

"Was this retaliation?" She inquires. "Because you killed their mole, they sent someone to kill you, but the person they sent is a lousy shot?"

"Something like that," he sighs, feeling the buzz from the alcohol as he takes another swig of whiskey before setting it on the table as she finishes stitching him up.

Y/N wraps a bandage around his arm and begins packing up the things she didn't use and tossing away the things she did use. Her fear had turned into anger now that he was going to be okay.

"I can't keep doing this, Thomas," she admits as she avoids looking at him by busying herself with making a cup of tea. "I worry about you all the time, and when you come here to get stitched up, that fear intensifies."

"You're the only one I can come to," he says, his eyes looking guilty. It didn't surprise her to see him showing emotion in those brilliant blue eyes. She was the one person he didn't have to conceal his actual feelings from.

"You've got your brother's and Aunt Polly. You could even go to Esme or all the way to London to see Ada or that traitor who keeps writing you letters and ringing you at odd hours."

When Grace is mentioned, he frowns. Y/N disliked her, was constantly sceptical of her, and was not hesitant to express her doubts of the Irish woman. When it was revealed that she was a spy for the Irish inspector, she didn't hold back in telling Tommy, 'I told you so.'

Tommy always blamed her dislike for the blonde on jealousy, which she acknowledged when they eventually spoke after weeks of avoiding one other. She must confess that it feels wonderful when Grace calls and she is the one who answers Tommy's telephone, whether at the office or at home. Grace's disappointed voice makes Y/N smug; as childish as it makes her sound, it certainly brings her joy. Grace knew Tommy would go to Y/N and that she was only a distraction from his true feelings for his childhood friend.

He always returns to her, both before and after the war.

"I could, but I don't want to. I don't need them in the same way that I need you." He tells her as she sets the cups of tea on the table. He takes her by the waist and positions her between his legs, his arms around her waist, and his head resting on her stomach. Her fingers run through his hair, immediately soothing him. He tilts his head back and looks up at her. "I love you, Y/N. I've always loved you more than everyone else."

"I love you too, Tommy," she cups his face and leans down kissing him. He smiles against her lips and yanks her down onto his lap, causing her to laugh against his lips.

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 6 months

Text

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 16.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: whoops plot. I didn't really proofread this — sorry. Also sorry it is taking so long for the chapters to come out. I hope you still love me.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Links: Part 1, ….. Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

Tag List: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks

Maybe it was the expensive clothes you were wearing. Maybe it was the understated, quiet luxury of the handbag you walked through that office door carrying. Could it be the shoes? Surely the casual observer couldn’t have noticed the bright red soles of the brand new Louboutins on your feet as you walked.

Perhaps there was some extra oxygen filling up your chest somehow making you carry yourself with an added bit of confidence; making you feel as if you could float away with even the slightest breeze.

You felt as if you were a completely different person. You felt as if the others could tell. It couldn’t just all be happening inside of your head either because you caught evidence of some reactions to you; little things. Tiny double takes as you walked by. Slight widening of eyes when you entered your meetings; slight twinges in the expressions of their faces; barely detectable save for how very aware of yourself and of all of them you felt inside of your skin right now.

So much was new. So much felt different.

You were, in very new and very real ways, very suddenly and unequivocally … somebody’s.

And that somebody he was — he was yours too.

It had a taste to it — it was rich and sweet and secretive and quick. A fresh baked cookie swiped when Mom’s back was turned. Hasty kisses stolen behind heavy wooden doors and brushes of warm fingertips over the back of a hand as you walked by. The whispered lean of a warm shoulder against your own as you both stood in an elevator; surrounded by people; acutely aware of the rhythm of only eachother’s breathing.

A smell like very early morning just before dawn on Christmas Day; the smell of pine and cinnamon and the crisp chill of snow outside, like hiding at the top of the stairs to catch a forbidden glimpse of Santa Claus.

Warm brown eyes from across a hectic room touched into yours again and again. You knew you were staring. You had very little control over it though. This was so very unlike you. Baekhyun was as busy as you had been. The project was wrapping today and loose ends had to be tied up. Final documents had to be submitted to clients. Plus he had been training his replacement on all of his tasks and duties. Tomorrow would be the wrap party. You could hardly wait to unclench. You’d have some drinks with your team and you’d even get to dance. Maybe you could get away with a dance or two with your soon to be ex-assistant without drawing too many curious gazes.

You could dance together one or twice, couldn’t you? You could stand to be held in his arms and swung around the dance floor without leaning in too close or gazing too deeply into his deep brown eyes as you did it, right?

You did your absolute best to look at something else; at anything else.

Those deep brown eyes had found yours once again. Again and again, he found you. Maybe it wasn’t only you who had been staring at him as he showed Assistant Cha the ropes; as he leaned in and spoke very closely with her; as he told her things that made her head roll back and big belly laughs erupted from her bosom that shook like jelly when she laughed dramatically with her whole body.

She reached a hand out and her fingertips touched lightly along his forearm; making contact for a fraction of a second — no more time than the width of a strand of hair. Not enough time of actual contact to warrant any sort of comment about it at all. It was not even any real touch on his skin even; she got his shirt sleeve. This was nothing. This certainly wasn’t anything that warranted such a ridiculously detailed description inside the ever-present internal monologue that played through your head when you thought about this man. It could hardly even be called a touch, really.

Still…she touched his arm. She laughed and giggled and smiled a sickeningly sweet smile at him and you knew, you knew what it felt like to look at him and talk to him and feel that attraction and desire and lust and want. You knew of the kinds of irrational and impossible fantasies that would fly through her head at the very thought of just one of her desperate touches being returned by him.

You could not blame her. He was beautiful.

He moved his arm down and away; probably purposefully. He was reaching for something and just before he spoke, just before his movement nagged at her focus and pulled her dreamy eyes away from his pretty face and down onto what he had to show her, just before his focus dropped to the papers or notebooks or tablet or whatever the hell it was that he held inside his hand, you had them once more; those deep brown eyes that looked into yours from across this space; those brown eyes of his that found yours again and again no matter where you were and no matter where he was — it was like a magnet. He looked at you and you looked at him and the sound and the commotion and the ever present din inside of this busy workspace fell weirdly silent to your own ears.

You had to stop this.

You pulled your focus away from the two of them and you looked around the room at your team. It took so much effort to do.

With the exception of one person, the entire team was immersed in their own tasks. There was a bittersweet vibe in the air and each and every one of these people, to the very end, was giving it their all.

As your eyes made their way around to each desk, glimpsing lightly over its occupant, you reached a person who’s presence had been so familiar to you that you only half jumped to find her looking right at you.

Sandi, a senior member of your translating team and the person who occupied the seat closest to your office door, the person who had worked with you for probably the longest out of all of the group, who you had shared many long nights with over the course of your career, Sandi was watching you with a quiet amusement on her face.

You met her eyes with as much strength and fortitude as you could manage but you admittedly felt a bit taken aback to have had her attention during this time; this time when you foolishly had assumed no one could possibly be paying any attention to you.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Perhaps a small smile in your direction and maybe she would resume her work. Or maybe she was watching you because she had a question for you. You strengthened the eye contact with Sandi and lifted your eyebrows in question. Doing your absolute best to keep any guilty expressions from manifesting in your eyes.

You definitely hadn’t expected the next words that came out of her mouth.

“You should stop watching them. She doesn’t hold a candle—“ she began out loud but just as suddenly as she spoke, her words halted abruptly as she closed up her mouth with a start, shaking her head in quick shallow passes. The small self-satisfied smile that had been coloring her lips before she opened her mouth had now slipped away and her eyes widened as she turned her head away from you; averting her eyes. She lifted a hand to cover over her mouth, clearly surprised that she would say such a thing out loud.

Sandi may have been surprised by herself, but you felt blindsided. You felt your mouth go dry and a spindly tingling slowly crept up the back of your neck.

She knew.

Sandi knew.

You felt sick.

The panic that surged through you was swift and complete and it took your breath and what was left of your rational mind.

Without your mind working, all you could manage was to stare down at the girl in silence until you exhaled a purposefully slow breath through your mouth. She had both of her hands over her parted lips and she was reeling. You felt similarly but thankfully years of working through impossible and stressful situations where your facial expression mattered, kept the reeling happening inside of you where it should stay.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, Miss Manager. I didn’t mean—”

“Sandi — come see me in my office, please.”

Sandi knew you better than most. You’d worked closely beside her for so many years, if anyone would have noticed the obvious change in you since you’d met Baekhyun it would be Sandi. It made the most sense that she would have noticed something was going on. But still, you felt blindsided by this revelation. It wasn’t that you didn't trust the woman, you did. If anyone in this office was going to know such a damning secret about you, it might as well be Sandi.

You felt guilty. You felt very much in the wrong. You’d always strived to set such a good example to your team members and here you’d been caught red-handed, having done such a thing with your direct subordinate of all people, with your assistant! Yes, yes you had already processed his transfer, met with his new team lead, you were doing your absolute best to remove Baekhyun from any and every position beside you, beneath you, any connection to you as quickly as you possibly could. But the fact remained, you were in direct violation of company policy. You should have come clean to HR the second you’d realized just how inappropriate the professional relationship with Baekhyun had turned to have him transferred out that very day.

But you had been weak.

You had delayed it; torn by the very thought of losing him from your side and now…now someone knew. What if she had the wrong idea? What if she thought you used your influence over him to coerce him into the relationship? What if she thought it was one sided, or what if she used this new-found information to hold over you?

You shook your head back and forth as she walked through the doorway of your office and quietly closed the door behind her. Her head was downcast and she moved slowly through the space to take a seat beside where you sat with your hands clenched together in your lap on the small sofa in the center of the room.

“Miss Manager, I really didn’t mean anything bad by what I said. I was just thinking out loud and it slipped out.” She began quickly, as soon you felt the cushion dip when she sat down.

“Can you tell me what you meant by it?” You kept your voice low and careful as you replayed her words again in your mind, a quiet disbelief dancing along the edges of your memory. Maybe you heard her wrong, or maybe she didn't mean it exactly as it sounded to you. Maybe your guilty conscience had you running when nothing was even chasing you.

She didn't speak for a few moments and you swallowed the moisture inside your mouth, lifted your head and looked around the clean space of your office.

“You said that I can stop watching them, who do you think I was watching?” You probed again, realizing that your face, which was angled away from her now, might have not been as in control as usual. You could feel the dampness in your eyes and you blinked quickly.

“Baekhyun and Assistant Cha. Nothing is going on there. There is nothing to worry about. I’m on your side, by the way — both of you.”

You had confirmed it.

She knew.

You felt your steady resolve crumble with the deep sigh of defeat that left your chest and the oxygen leaving your lungs pulled your eyelids closed until all of the light was shut out for a moment. Just for a moment.

You only needed one moment.

“How did you know?” The delicacy of your words, tantamount to a confession, balanced lightly on the tip of your tongue. Your voice sounded so much smaller than you were used to hearing from yourself.

Her reply did not come instantly but the delay in her response, you knew, was more imagined by your own sense of urgency than in anything she was doing. Still, you were impatient to know; enough to turn your gaze from the safety of the silent bookshelf full of items you had owned and controlled for years to look anxiously upon the expressions written on her face and the unpredictable and uncontrollable harsh truths you might find in her eyes.

“Does anyone else know?” You whispered another quiet question, despite the fact that she hadn’t answered the first one yet.

Her eyes watched your face and in them you saw a lightness and warmth. On her lips was the smallest sweet smile that brought you back again to the woman you knew so well; the woman you had worked with closely over the years on several projects, through countless sleepless nights, tirelessly and side by side. The valuable member of your team who proved herself to be trustworthy and reliable. The woman you sought out first when something needed to be handled discreetly and quickly.

She was watching your face and she inhaled a small breath to speak.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who could possibly know,” she said with that soft smile still inside her warm eyes. She was reaching into her pocket to pull out her cellphone and you looked down at her illuminated screen as she opened up an app. It was Instagram. She clicked a few times and eventually landed on a profile that was familiar. It was Baekhyun’s account and a few harmless pictures down his feed, her fingers stopped scrolling when she reached something that you knew would be a picture he had posted one of the nights he’d spent in your bed.

It was an innocuous shot of his hand holding your hand with only an alarm clock visible in the background. The time read 02:16 A.M. and it sat atop a wooden bedside table. Nothing else was in focus. The background of the picture was blurred beyond recognition with only a hazy outline of the very tip of the tail of your darkened bird lamp but definitely not anything that was recognizable about it. Neither of you wore any jewelry that might possibly come back to you. You looked at the words he wrote below the image — ‘I die for any little bit of you, my love.’ — and while yes, it had filled you with butterflies and made you kick and scream under your covers in secret when you saw what he wrote, for the purposes of Sandi identifying you from just this— was she a witch? How could she possibly have known?

There was nothing there. Nothing that pointed to you so conclusively that she would present this evidence to you with such conviction.

“From his posts, I knew he was seeing someone, but when I saw this, it suddenly made sense — how you could have changed so much since he joined. Anyway, I bought you that clock as a Secret Santa gift last year. So obviously I would be the only one to recognize it. I am glad to see you still use it.”

“Would you believe me if I said I gave the clock away to my sister, so that couldn’t possibly be me in the picture?”

You said it jokingly; feeling as if a switch had been flipped with Sandi since she knew something so very damning about you. What authority and respect? This woman saw and knew too much. You now had a confidant and maybe even a friend. Oh no! What if you had to transfer her to another department too? You couldn’t keep losing your best people like this just because you couldn’t keep your work life separated from your personal life.

You honestly felt as if you’d lost all control in this job the moment that man walked through your office door on his first day of work.

“You don’t have a sister.”

“Right,” you conceded quickly.

“Miss Manager,” Sandi began after a few moments, “you don’t need to feel so guilty about this. I really don’t think either of you have done anything wrong. And isn’t that why he’s being transferred so suddenly? To avoid any problems with the company.”

“And let me guess. He made the first move, right? I’m certain of it. I noticed how he looks at you. Since last year even.”

“Last year? You knew him from before this project?”

“You don’t remember him? He was interning with Manager Jung Ho. Ahhh maybe it was the red hair and the glasses.”

Sandi still had her phone out and was scrolling again, this time through her own photo albums that went back through the years. You recognized yourself in many of the shots. Candid pictures as you both worked, a few of the group laughing together as the team unwound after some particularly hectic days. Her scrolling stopped abruptly and you looked down to where she touched with her index finger on a pretty boy with wavy red hair, wearing round gold wire glasses and standing literally right beside you, his eyes looking at you while you were about as busy as could be focusing on putting out several fires at once.

“Here he is. Always following around Miss Manager Noona. Always staring at Miss Manager Noona and talking about Miss Manager Noona. He was so annoying,” she said with a hearty laugh. She scrolled again and image after image showed a similar scene, Baekhyun taking stolen glances at you and you with your mind so occupied at the time you didn’t even remember him. The more pictures you saw of the young red-head with the glasses the more the actual memories of him popped into your mind.

He was bright and chipper and you never did catch his name at the time. He was noisy and full of laughter and full of life and you…well, you had a dark storm cloud hanging over your head back then. Last year was a hard year for you. You had some professional failures that you still dwelled on and some even worse personal failures involving one relationship that still burned you to think about. You’d nearly given up on all things romance at the time; sworn off men forever with their lies and their cheating ways. It was no wonder your eyes had been so blind to the entire person standing beside you; rooting for you; building you up as he had done back then.

You remembered him more as you looked at the pictures. Now his face was so recognizable to you, after you had fallen in love with everything about him, you’d even be able to spot him with bright blue hair and a fake mustache on. But apparently all it had taken was a pair of glasses and a wavy red perm.

“I can’t believe he pulled a Superman-Clark Kent on me — ohhhh…look at how cute he was!” You cooed right out loud. A momentary lapse made you forget where you were and as soon as the sickeningly saccharine words left your lips you lifted a hand to cover over your parted lips.

She laughed out loud , “Oh no, you’ve got it bad. You’ll invite me to the wedding, won’t you?”

She was joking when she said it but you closed up your mouth and pulled both of your lips between your teeth, biting down to try and keep from doing something stupid like squealing from the pent up excitement you felt when you thought about marrying him. Your strong reaction was yet another confession. She had gone motionless the moment you didn't laugh it off as just a funny joke.

“Of course you are invited,” you whispered just under your breath and her laughter quit suddenly, her lips hung open, and her eyes widened significantly.

“Oh my god. What? What?!” She was whispering, but it was a very loud and very excited sounding whisper. “Are you serious?”

You felt her hands grip around your upper arms and she gave you a good shake. It made the laughter break free from your chest and you were giggling now. It was useless to fight it. You could feel the excitement building the more she shook you and the louder her whispering giggles grew. You lifted both hands to cover over your face as your entire body shook with laughter.

You gave into it; the joy and anticipation that her genuine excitement brought out of you and by the time you heard the soft two knocks on your office door you had to wipe away moisture from your eyes from giggling so much before you could compose yourself enough to call out to whoever was knocking that the door was unlocked and they could come in.

The door was pushed and a familiar head of blond hair poked inside just before you saw the rest of his face.

“Miss Manager,” Baekhyun spoke cautiously with his face carefully controlled as he said it. Not even any flirtatious tones hidden in a sweet grin or a secret wink. He was on his best behavior today with so many witnesses around. You hadn’t had a single pointed look from him in hours. It had been at least two hours since you felt the warmth of his fingertips on the skin of the back of your hand. It had been a solid hour since he had looked into your eyes for longer than thirty seconds and allowed those eyes to slip down and steal a glance at your lips.

“You have a meeting upstairs in five,” he said and he pushed the door open further. You could make out Assistant Cha standing just behind him; a thick and heavily scribbled notebook held up to her chest with both of her arms wrapped tightly around it as if it carried all of the secrets of her very new and scary universe.

You nodded your head to the pair of them and quickly gathered your end-of-project meeting materials.

Sandi was excusing herself quietly; if not rather slowly. You caught the lingering examination she gave to Baekhyun as she made her way around the sofa you both had been squealing on moments earlier and seemed to be taking her time with the exit. If he noticed anything amiss, he didn't make it known, but after a few moments of her looking into his face she simply nodded her head once, smiled a sweet smile in his direction and said a quick, “Okay, okay. I can see it. I could have sworn you used to wear glasses.”

You bit down on the side of your tongue to suppress any remaining giggles.

Baekhyun’s eyes danced around her face for a moment in mild confusion and he frowned his lips with a tiny pout, inhaling lightly and parting his lips to respond. But before he could offer any explanation she turned her head back in your direction, gave you a small wave of her hand and a quick, “See you at the wrap party, Miss Manager,” and she then was gone.

You’d made it half of the way through the rows of cubicles when a tap on your shoulder halted your steps and pulled your attention behind you. You recognized that the person calling you was Baekhyun and your eyes were pulled down toward his hand in which he held a small post-it note.

“Excuse me, Miss Manager, I think you dropped this,” he said as he pushed the small folded-in-half piece of colorful paper into the palm of your hand. You knew you must have had a questioning look inside your eyes, at least for the first few seconds of this, but you quickly recovered with a nod and a quiet thank-you on your lips. You slipped the paper inside the pocket of your blazer.

As your legs moved, you noticed that Baekhyun and Assistant Cha held back some, and your curiosity about the small token from your boyfriend felt absolutely itchy. It was as if that small note was pulsing as it called to you from inside your pocket. You slipped your hand in and pulled it out, glancing around quickly to take note of the fact that no one around was paying you any attention at all and with Baekhyun’s steps so far behind you figured no one would mind if you read whatever little details might have been written just for you on this note.

‘I miss you today. You are right here and I miss you to death. I am being so brave about it. You can compliment me about it later, if you want.

P.S. Which season do you like best?’

You silently slipped the note back inside your pocket with a lovely little tap over the fabric to make sure it was secure. You felt as if this elevator you stood inside was carrying you straight into the clouds above this building. He probably couldn't text you freely because of the close proximity of his shadow, Assistant Cha. Or maybe he just wanted to hand you this adorable little note as a physical token of his affection; something you could hold in your hand and lightly touch with the tip of your finger. You half wondered if you should just text him back the answer to his question.

Instead you held your finger over the elevator button to keep it open long enough for the pair of assistants to finally join you inside and you caught the briefest touch of his brown eyes as he stepped inside.

His eyes did not linger. Yours did not chase but you did feel the distinct presence of the warmth of his body as he stepped into the space directly behind you. There were no secret touches or hidden attempts to reach for you inside this space. The high speed elevator surged up quickly; its destination was amongst the upper floors and with the abrupt movement you rocked lightly on your legs to keep your balance. You reached a hand out to rest it over the bar and a glance to your right, just over your shoulder afforded you the view of a familiar hand doing the same. Long slender fingers flexed once outward in your direction, but his hand did not move any closer to you and eventually those fingers simply wrapped around the silver pole for the remainder of the elevator ride.

You would not let your fingers leave his skin tonight.

You’d had your fill of denial.

The meeting was typical for this stage of a project. You paid exactly enough attention as you needed to. Your presentation showcased your team’s successes and honestly, although you didn’t tend to toot your own horn, your own performance looked incredibly impressive as well. Although with such a capable team it was hard not to look incredible. You gave credit where credit was due as you always did and as the other managers and directors said their parts you pulled out a small note pad from your bag and began penning a response to your boyfriend. You did your best to keep your face from showing too much but you could feel the elation pulling your lips into a small smile as you drew the little sad faced emoji in the middle of the note.

‘You are very brave, and doing so much better than I am. I got caught staring at you today. :( Sandi knows now.

P.S. I like the fall. Winter is too cold, Spring is too sneezy, and Summer is too hot. Although you kissed me in the summertime so I like it now too.

P.P.S. I remember you now, from Jung Ho’s project. I didn’t know you wore glasses.

P.P.P.S. It’s not fair for you to look so handsome in every hair color. ’

You stopped writing when you ran out of space. This all could have gone so much smoother in a text message, but there was something magical about writing all of this out in a note to secretly pass to him in person.

Your meeting ended and there was another meeting coming up just after lunch. Your busy schedule and the ever present assembly of people around you didn’t give you any opportunities to pass on the note. And when you would have normally both found yourselves alone with each other, now there was an entirely new person around with her own set of eyes, watching and learning all sorts of things about her new position. And hopefully just that.

She was fine. You could tell that Baekhyun was right about her. She would do well and she would succeed in her new role. You would come to depend on her and appreciate her too. Maybe even the strange undeserved bitterness you felt when you looked at her pretty young face would fade.

But now, you wished she had some other place she desperately had to be.

You found your chance just after lunch when Assistant Cha had departed to the bathrooms. You spotted Baekhyun leaning against a pillar on the ground floor checking the time on his watch, looking about as handsome as could be in his suit and ignoring the many curious glances from various ladies and men who walked by him. He seemed to be waiting for something and you slipped closer to where he stood, careful not to be spotted as you made your way around the other side of the pillar.

You’d reached a hand out to tap on his shoulder at the exact moment that a ping sounded out on his cell phone and he moved out of the way just as your fingers extended so that they touched nothing. You felt a little silly.

While you felt a tinge of disappointment that you’d missed your chance, you also felt a surge of mild curiosity about what he was up to. He made his way toward the security turnstiles and met with a run-of-the mill food delivery man who handed him a small black bag from a local bakery down the block. You’d recognized the logo of one of your favorite shops that had the absolute best fruit tarts you’d ever had and a chocolate cake slice that you’d just about sell your soul for.

He was walking back with his head and his focus turned down into the small bag and you spun on your heels behind your pillar so he would not see you stalking him.

Your feet moved lightly, feeling like you were in some sort of spy movie as you moved along with him, yet just out of his sight as he made his way toward the elevator. The button was pressed, the lights illuminated and after a few moments the soft ding let you know that he would be stepping forward into that quiet space. What kind of deal with the devil did you have to make for that elevator to be empty?

He stepped inside and you held back. You counted in your head just a few times before moving and just as the doors were closing you slipped inside the space, earning the quiet gasp from the very center of his chest when he saw you.

It was empty. You had him alone for a few seconds at least.

“Excuse me, Assistant Byun, I think you dropped this.” You did your best impression of him and held up the little colorful note you had with a cheeky smile that he returned instantly as he reached out quick fingertips to grab the note.

Baekhyun wasted no time. His fingers pulled the small sheet apart and his mouth moved as he silently formed the words of your message with his lips.

“Oh my god,” he gasped quietly; having absorbed the bad news from the note first, “Sandi knows? How?”

“She’s a better detective than Batman,” you shrugged rather casually. Both because you trusted Sandi and you figured if you weren’t freaking out about this, then maybe he would take it in stride as well. “She showed me some pictures of you from last year.”

“Did she?” His lips were pulled into a smile and you caught the little lift of his chin and the scrunch of his nose.

You nodded twice, acutely aware of how telling the smile on your face must look to him. “I remember you. I didn't know your name though. But you looked very cute with the little glasses and the hair,” you lifted a hand to make a waving motion with your fingers above your own head. “Did you get LASIK? Where are the glasses?”

He was reaching a hand out to press a button on the elevator panel and his eyes narrowed slightly as he pursed his lips.

“Oh, that was just fashion. They never had any lenses in them. I have perfect vision.”

His clarification made you laugh out loud. You leaned against the back wall of the elevator and looked into his face freely, feeling every bit of the affection and attraction you had for the man fill up your chest with contentment. At last, you had a moment alone with him. You could look at him. You could stare at him and you could daydream and you could let every single recent memory of the love you shared with him flood your mind freely in this shared space without onlookers or witnesses.

Baekhyun leaned against the side wall, doing just about the exact same thing to you and when his head leaned back against the elevator wall his eyelids sank down half closed, his jaw relaxed, and his lips parted with a slow exhale of air from deep within his lungs.

“I wish I could touch you,” he whispered under his breath.

“Me too,” you confessed, “stupid cameras,” you added without breaking eye contact with him; although you did let your head fall some to rest against the back wall.

“I’ll kiss you in the wintertime,” he said with a smile pulling at his lips, “so you don't feel the cold so much.” His sweet words and that pretty smile pulled a matching smile from you. You lifted a hand to cover over your mouth, tapping lightly over your lips with your fingertips.

“Let’s have a winter wedding,” he said.

“This winter? So soon?” You didn’t hear any objection in your voice. Only curiosity.

He nodded and blinked his eyes slowly; a truly dreamy expression taking over his features.

“We can honeymoon somewhere without pollen and I will kiss you in the springtime.”

You couldn’t stand it. You felt ready to burst right here inside this elevator; just from his sweet, romantic promises that coated you from head to toe.

In the recesses of your mind; in the bargaining parts, you could hear the questions parading by.

What if you reached a hand out and pressed the button for the ground floor on this elevator panel. What if you pulled him by the shirt sleeve — didn’t give a good damn about who saw — and marched him right out of this office building, out onto the street, and hailed a cab destined for your apartment. What if you said screw who knew the truth, screw the wrap and the endless droning meetings, screw this job. What if you took him home and you locked both of you inside your home for a month straight. Nothing but the two of you and the privacy you would find in that bedroom.

“I miss you,” he said softly under his breath with his eyes still locked onto your face. Your mind had been wandering but his words pulled you back into yourself.

“I’m right here,” you said with a small smile, blinking your eyes slowly and purposefully in his direction again and again, as if you could send him a message with their movement — I love you, I love you, I love you — your eyelids called out to him.

“I miss you, though,” he said again with a long exhale from his lungs. “What am I going to do next week when I can't look up and see you whenever I want?”

The elevator slowed its rapid upward movement and you could feel it in your stomach as it slowed to a stop. Someone must be joining; you hadn’t yet reached your destination but it appeared that someone would come and interrupt this. Damn them. A soft ding let you know the doors were about to open. Your few moments of alone time with him was coming to an end.

Baekhyun was still talking though; still lost inside his own head and caught up in the dread of the upcoming changes you both would need to adjust to.

“I sound pathetic, don’t I?” You had to look away from his face but from your peripherals you caught the small step he took in your direction as he moved closer to you.

“Baekhyun, someone is coming in.” You didn’t have time to reassure him that this feeling he was going through was not something he was alone in. You also felt the loneliness and the ache to touch him. You were also feeling the sense of dread for the upcoming weeks without him by your side.

But right now was not the time. Not with this camera above both of your heads and the elevator doors about to open and whoever it was that had called the elevator was about to walk in.

A few simultaneous sensations happened. You could feel the jolt as the elevator came to a full stop and, at the same time, Baekhyun’s soft fingertips brushed against the back of your hand. He had taken another step it seemed and he was beside you; his wandering hand reaching down to run a slow path over your skin down the back of your hand. You felt the moment his fingers wrapped around your palm and slipped lower as each fingertip slipped just in-between your own fingers.

You had to pull away. The doors opened.

You pulled your hand out of his grip quickly, if not a bit forcefully, and you stepped away at the same time; putting a good two steps worth of distance between the two of you. You brought your hands in front of you and clasped them together and you looked up just in time to make eye contact with a terrifyingly familiar set of brown eyes. Brown eyes that bore a strikingly frightening resemblance to the very same brown eyes that had been burning a hole into your heart all day long.

You were sure the first few moments of the eye contact, you had a look of absolute panic. You were certain he would have seen fear in your eyes.

You did your best to push a smile to your face. Inside of your chest your heartbeat had jolted to life, sending thundering booms through your entire torso. You felt the trembling from it. You swallowed nervously and you could hardly hear your own words from your lips over the echo of your racing heart inside of your eardrums.

“President Byun,” you said softly; wincing internally at just how terrified you sounded as you said his name. “Lovely to see you, Sir.”

Your greeting earned you a curt head nod and his eyes immediately moved to touch upon his son’s face.

“What floor?” You were closest to the buttons and you inhaled through your parted lips and forced the air back out slowly, desperately hoping your question hadn’t sounded stupid. He was the president and every one knew his offices occupied the top floor.

“Top?” Your finger hovered over the button and your nervous question another swift nod of his head. He spared you only a fraction of his attention before he was standing beside Baekhyun, who kept his eyes fixed securely on the closing elevator doors.

The doors closed and you stepped back, holding your hands together in front of your abdomen so they wouldn't tremble and give away the raging anxiety that was surging through you right now.

You hadn’t been ready for this. You knew seeing his father again after all that had transpired between you and Baekhyun would bring some strong emotions but you were having about as strong a reaction as you could take quietly. It was the suddenness of this.

You kind of just wanted to run away from this. Yet you were trapped inside this moving box with these two men who hadn’t spoken a word to each other despite sharing a familial bond, sharing a bloodline, sharing a home for most of Baekhyun’s life, you couldn't help but notice that Baekhyun hadn’t even said hello to the man. Nor had the man said anything to his son, but the two of them merely stood side by side in this elevator and looked ahead with blank and passive faces.

You felt a tickle in your throat. It was the nerves. You fought the urge to cough and quickly realized it was useless and you turned your head a little and cleared your throat, trying to rid yourself of the annoying feeling without actually coughing inside a closed elevator in a time when coughing in public was a major faux pas.

The sound of your own throat cleaning was timed perfectly with the sound of President Byun’s feet as he took a single step forward so that he was standing ahead of the both of you and he inhaled a breath into his lungs to speak out loud into the space right in front of his face.

“I have received some very interesting news this morning,” President Byun said in a steady and confident voice without any flinching in his body language to favor one side of him or another. There was nothing given to indicate that he was speaking to any one of you in particular.

“What is that, Sir,” Baekhyun said; at last acknowledging his father. You couldn't find the nerve to get your own voice to work. You held your breath and then tried your best to keep your breathing steady and even. You felt the slight pain in the back of your hand as your nails gripped hard into your own flesh.

He didn’t turn around to look at either of you when he spoke again, he merely inhaled a breath, opened his mouth and dropped a bomb right on top of both of your heads.

“I heard that you think … that you’re getting married.”

[To Be Continued]

Links: Part 1, …. Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #baekhyun #exo fic #exo scenario #baekhyun smut

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anxiousnerdwritings · 1 year

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maybe as Viserys health begins to fail Sickly!Brother’s health begins to strengthen. and the brother thinks it’s some sort of twisted joke from the gods but the families are too busy relishing in the fact he can walk more the ten feet without loosing his breath or get down the stairs without coughing a lung out.

the servants swear Alicent had whiplash the first time she saw Sickly!Brother jogging through the royal gardens in a only a pair of shorts and footwraps

I can’t help but imagine people thinking that there is actually something correlating Viserys and the Reader’s drastic changes in both their health. Like, maybe there’s a rumor that Alicent or Daemon sought out a witch who through dark magical means intertwined the Reader and Viserys’ souls somehow resulting in one falling weaker and deteriorating while the other grows healthier and stronger as the days go by. Whether it’s true or not people are completely taken aback at the miraculous change in the Reader, even Viserys is shocked but he’s happy to be seeing his beloved brother getting to live and experience life the way he should have been able to all along.

Viserys would find amusement in his last moments about the whole absurd rumor of him and the Reader being intertwined somehow. He would contentedly tell anyone that he gladly accepted his fate if it meant his brother got to live the life he had been so cruelly robbed of all these years.

Meanwhile, Alicent, Rhaenyra, Daemon and Rhaenys have never seen the Reader look or be so lively as he is now. They’ve all watched as the Reader slowly regained strength, getting to a healthier weight, being able to stand for longer periods then getting to walk without any assistance. The whole thing is surreal to all of them but they couldn’t be happier. Alicent of course is there every step of the way helping the Reader in whatever way she can and being one of the first people to witness his recovery.

You can’t imagine the pure shock and panic that fills everyone when they first witness the Reader working out or sparring in some way. Alicent damn near faints from seeing the Reader shirtless, especially since his body is forming more muscle mass and said muscle is defining itself in certain places. Basically, she can’t handle how sexy her darling is becoming and nearly passes out from a nosebleed because of it. Sir Criston Cole is barely able to catch her right before she falls to the ground and smacks her head open (he totally was checking Reader out too). Everyone would be running around trying to get the Reader back into their bed or at least to a chair so they can take it easy, meanwhile Daemon is completely filled with pride at seeing his younger brother bettering himself and making the most out of his second chance at life.

Also, I can’t help but imagine knights, Kingsguard men, and servants at King’s Landing all chasing after the Reader who is half naked jogging around and working out. They’re all trying to cover him up and get him somewhere safe and make him take it easy on all the physical activity he’s trying to do. Alicent would also be chasing the Reader down to cover him up and save him from all the predatory eyes feasting over him if it weren’t for her nearly passing out every time she catches sight of him shirtless. It was one thing seeing his body when she would tend to him when I was still sick but now that it’s defining more she can’t handle it.

Given that the Reader is healthier now, able to move around more freely from the confines of his bedchambers without the worry of him overstimulating his lungs or needing to take a rest every few minutes due to his legs giving out in him, and now that he’s shaping himself up he’s gaining more attention than he’s ever had before. Especially from the female variety and Alicent couldn’t be more appalled by it. How dare anyone even think they could have a chance with her darling?! Were any of them there for him, taking care of him when he couldn’t even lift a spoon up to feed himself? Were any of them there to witness his worst moments and feel the sheer heart wrenching fear whenever his health dropped? No, no they weren’t! No one but Alicent was there for him all this time, not anyone else and certainly not those imbecile ladies of the court or the servant girls. She was the only one there for the Reader and she would be the only to continue being there for the Reader. Meanwhile, Daemon is already plotting who to betroth the Reader to to get him away from Alicent.

Also, now that the Reader is healthier he can move to Dragonstone with Rhaenyra and Daemon or even go to Driftmark with Rhaenys and Corlys. Or hell, the Reader may even just take off on his own and adventure around the Seven Kingdoms or the free cities and see the world that he’s only read of in his books.

#anxious answers #yandere alicent hightower #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere house of the dragon #yandere game of thrones #yandere house of the dragon concept #yandere game of thrones concept #yandere concept

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rippersz · 1 year

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Miranda Priestly and f Reader. Reader gets in between an altercation between Miranda and Stephen. She later tells Miranda "I'll never let anyone talk to you like that again"

𝙰 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

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(Fem!Reader x Miranda Priestly) (Pining) (TW: Abusive language)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“Oh give me a break! You don’t have to make up excuses to try and salvage my ego, Miranda!”

The minute you walked in, you knew something was wrong.

The townhouse air in the evening was usually still and quiet, but the stomping footsteps on the second floor provided a tension that made you pause in the foyer. Stephen was home, you realized. His weird manly cologne filled your lungs, nearly bringing tears to your eyes with how strong it was. Almost a year as Miranda’s assistant, spending time around her husband at least once or twice, and you still couldn’t get used to his smell. Probably because every little thing about Stephen was either utterly boring or terribly annoying. Emily said it was both, but she only expressed that when he called so frequently that Miranda told her to instantly send them to voicemail. ‘If he has something important to say, he’ll leave a message’ but every time he did, it was just a stream of complaints.

If you were in his shoes, something you didn’t think about often because why would you, then you knew you wouldn’t take her attention for granted. She gave it when she could and a loving partner would understand that, and such understanding would lead to a lack of tension, and a lack of tension would result in more of her recognition. Or that’s what you thought. Again- not that you thought about it frequently of course - cuz that would just be silly and unrealistic and strange because she was your boss and she was the most emotionally unavailable woman you knew and even though she loved her daughters, her love for her partners was different and-

“I can’t go one day without them shooting looks at me- like- like I’m some dog! Probably wondering where my keeper is!” His voice echoed upon every floor, making you wince as you slid the Book into its assigned place.

Evidently, they hadn’t heard you come in. They should have been expecting you; at least Miranda should have, but it was easy to lose track of time during the winter months. It seemed to move so quickly, with a prime example being that it was 11:20 on the dot once you got there. Miranda had to attend a small dinner party at 9, so she eventually returned home at 10:30. Not the worst timing for a Friday night, but if Stephen had been ranting from the very moment she stepped in, well then you had no doubt she was tired. Too tired to argue perhaps as you barely heard her murmured response.

“We can discuss this in the morning. It’s late.” She sounded worn. It made your heart ache as you looked up at the ceiling, momentarily debating if you should stay or leave.

“Oh yeah? Just so you can escape back into your job to try and distract yourself from the real issues? Stop acting like a child, Miranda. We’ll talk about this now like adults.” The way Stephen ‘put his foot down’ was nothing in comparison to Miranda’s method. He was too loud about it - too demanding. It wasn’t very effective, even though it did make up your mind for you.

Staying was risky, of course. You could get caught, of course. You could get fired, of course. But honestly? You didn’t trust your boss’s husband. You didn’t trust his demeanor or his drinking or any other little thing about him. And although you didn’t think he would really hurt her, the worry that planted itself in the back of your brain grew swiftly; festering like a disease as you inched yourself toward the stairs and placed your hand on the cold bannister. Worrying for your boss was not your place, but above that, worrying for Miranda Priestly was not your right. You weren’t hers and she wasn’t yours - so there was really no need to stick around. She was entirely capable of taking care of herself.

…And yet?

And yet, something in your gut told you to stay. It was quiet but present - and it murmured softly, convincing you that the second you stepped out of the door and got into the car with Roy and drove off into the night, something would happen. Something bad. Something that you could have avoided if only you were there.

So no, you couldn’t leave. Not yet. Even though Miranda was most likely prepared to tear Stephen a new one.

“I am acting like a child? Calling your wife at 9:45 PM to complain about her absence at a dinner you didn’t confirm is far more childish than me doing my job. What did you expect me to do when you called? Run out of an important business dinner to dash over and wipe your tears before drowning my embarrassment in an overpriced ‘welcome bread basket’? Don’t be absurd, Stephen. You knew I was busy.” And she proved you right - speaking in a low edgy hiss that you suspected was only reserved for her husband. Interestingly enough though, even alone in her house, arguing with this person or the other, Miranda never raised her voice.

No one else thought it was noteworthy enough to mention in quiet conversation, but you were often tempted to bring it up to Nigel. You figured it was because of her childhood - whatever that had been like - and that she vowed to keep her vocal cords safe. It was a small little detail, but when one conversed with Miranda, sometimes it seemed like the only thing to focus on. Her words are always important, yes, but watching her lips move… and seeing the way her teeth formed each syllable… well it was mesmerizing in a way you’d never be able to properly explain. And Stephen, who was pacing the floor above you, was far too daft to understand that.

“What, so if I want to have dinner with my wife, I have to confirm through her assistant? You barely pick up, Miranda!” The sudden growl in his voice had you placing one foot on the stair next to you.

‘This is just a precautionary measure’ you told yourself, knowing that was far from the truth.

“And you pick up too often.” Her quip was breathy and sharp - a clear end to the conversation as you heard her soft footsteps trailing off into another room.

“What does that even mean?! I’m trying to be a good husband, but you are ruining my reputatio-”

“Your reputation?” The venom in Miranda’s voice silenced her husband immediately. “Your reputation…,” you pictured her shaking her head before letting out a little mocking laugh; “…I have no effect on how much you succeed in your career. If you can’t separate work and life, that’s not my problem.”

Their voices were drifting away, lost to the floorplan of their home as you slowly skirted your way up the stairs. It seemed that Miranda had taken your common sense with her when she walked off, leaving Stephen (and you) to follow like lost puppies. Although, she still didn’t know you were there. And you still weren’t going to leave - not until he stopped raising his voice and waking the entire neighborhood.

“God you know- you always treat me like shit, Miranda.” You winced, knowing very well how much she hated cursing. “I am your HUSBAND. You should be speaking to me with respect - not like I’m another worthless magazine you can get rid of. I’ve given you EVERYTHING I have and what have you given me? A few hours of your time? Nothing? Just enlighten me, because I’m really at a loss right now!”

There was a bang then. It was strong and hard and it sounded like he hit something- maybe a side table or a wall- but it didn’t matter to you. He had hit something and if he could hit something- an inanimate object- he could hit his wife and if he hit his wife, he could hurt her and you couldn’t just stand there- you couldn’t just listen to his slander when his wife was giving him everything!; when she was providing and taking care of the children and doing her job all at the same time. You gulped, noticed that you had gravitated up to the second floor, and decided in a split second that if Miranda had anything to say, you’d simply come up with an excuse.

Then, as you listened for where they had gone, you heard hurried footsteps coming back toward the stairs.

“Don’t ignore me, Miranda! Stop hiding behind your job and just admit that you don’t give a fuck about us! I try so hard every day and every night and all you can do is- is- is whore yourself out to those fucking businessmen!”

The gasp that bubbled up in your throat escaped without hesitation. You had never heard anyone talk about Miranda like that - and especially not to her face. If anyone else had spoken so wickedly, you were almost certain that they’d be blacklisted from every bloody establishment in New York City, whether it had to do with fashion or not. But Stephen… well you knew that she had her own reputation to protect - and an escaping husband was not ideal.

But still…

Still…

She didn’t deserve that. And the injustice that had sparked earlier welled up like water boiling over the lip of a full pot. How dare he? How dare he speak to her like that? Your hands balled into fists at your sides; painted nails digging into the skin of your palms.

“Still nothing to say? Huh?!”

A split second later, followed by the sound of Stephen’s yelling, Miranda walked around the corner.

And there your eyes met.

She looked tired at that moment… and small… and utterly incensed at the idea of you being there and witnessing that. The shock played out on her face in the span of a millisecond; with a wide blue gaze and perfect lips parted and sculpted eyebrows raised onto her forehead - which was half covered by a swooping waterfall of messy white hair. It was beyond clear that she was ready for bed and that Stephen was just prolonging her suffering, but you sent a silent prayer to the gods asking to keep your job just before her husband showed up. His hands were on his hips, his face was screwed up into a tired and angry frown, and upon seeing you- he let out a loud scoff.

“Are you kidding me?!” His yell was right in Miranda’s ear but she didn’t seem to care. She didn’t even flinch.

Instead, she was staring right at you. At you. With some sort of fury- some sort of strange deep emotion- swirling around in pearlescent eyes. You felt your knees grow weak but held your ground. If she was going to yell, let her yell. If she was going to coldly dismiss you, let her coldly dismiss you. But at the end of the day, the longer you stared, the more you knew that she knew. That she understood. In the strange telekinetic way that most women shared - the concern that compelled you to stay was reflected in her gaze. And there, in the lull of irritation and tension, was a conversation that only the two of you shared.

It was spoken softly, slowly, and through your eyes alone.

‘I stayed because I was scared for you.’

‘I know.’

‘Are you mad at me?’

‘I don’t know. This wasn’t your place.’

‘I understand. I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.’

‘I can handle myself.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘…I know.’

“Did you plan this? Is that why she’s here?! What- did- did you call her? To witness us fight? See I knew you were fucking crazy! From day one I told myself ‘Stephen don’t get involved with her’ and now look where I am!”

Your silent conversation was snapped in half as he ranted; all while shoving past Miranda to walk further into the hall and throw his hands up in the air like a kid. You felt your body jolt at the sight of her being pushed, but like the impenetrable wall she could be, your boss stood her ground and allowed her husband to brush past her shoulder. As if there wasn’t force in the way he walked. As if you weren’t this close to throwing a punch.

And Miranda could see it in you. She could see the irritation- the sense of injustice and everything that came with it- but she also knew you wouldn’t do anything. You were too kind. Too understanding.

Well… unless someone like Stephen said what he said next.

“You know what? No. I’m done. You listen to me right now,” and then he rounded on your boss, walking right up into her space so quickly that you couldn’t help but push yourself to get closer. And from where you stood then, you saw the way he pushed his finger into her chest and seethed with an unnecessary amount of rage.

“You listen and you learn. I have had it up to here with your bullshit. The cold shoulder, the missed dinners, the terrible schedules, the fact that you don’t even care if the twins like me or not - I’m sick of it. You treat me like an accessory. Another bag for the queen of fashion to throw out but guess what. Guess what, Miranda! I don’t care anymore. We’re separating - and you’re gonna end up like all of the other sad washed up celebrities: Pathetic and- and- weak and alone. Because no one- no one- could possibly love you like this,” and you watched with disgust as he shook his head and let out a cruel laugh. “No one could possibly look at you, with your stuck-up bitchy behavior, and see something worth loving. And-”

Before he could continue, you heard yourself speaking.

“You are absolutely pathetic.”

Two sets of eyes turned on you - one of them confused and the other severe, silently telling you to just shut your mouth. Normally, you would. Normally, you’d listen to your boss and obey her commands- silent or not- because you appreciated her authority and you were halfway in love with her. But it was for that last reason, the very reason why your ribcage felt like a zoo butterfly exhibit, that you decided not to listen. Sure, Miranda would hear your angry love-sick quips, but that didn’t matter. You were going to spill your heart out onto the floor, take a page out of your boss’s book…

…and kick Stephen’s ego into the dust.

“What did you just say?” His eyes were disbelieving as he turned to you; and though a twinge of fear dug at your heart, you pushed on.

“You heard me. You’re pathetic. Pathetic and weak and honestly? Really really embarrassing. It’s no wonder she doesn’t wanna spend time with you. Aside from being the busiest person on Earth and providing you with a roof over your head, she has kids and a job to maintain. But it’s fine- it’s fine!, because you get to complain and she doesn’t. Because you think she owes you everything, but she doesn’t. And she never did. And she never will.” You weren’t sure when you had gotten so close to him, but the backwards step he took gave you enough confidence to continue. “And if you think you mean anything to her, above her children, above her passion, then you are so sorely mistaken that it’s almost funny. Because me, and so many others, have seen how much Miranda cares about those closest to her - and if she’s not making you better, then you’re clearly not worth her time. But maybe if you exercised some more respect, maybe if you showed you cared, she’d bother to call you back and she’d bother to act like your wife. But you don’t do that. So why should she show you what you don’t show her? Huh? Why should she love you when there’s other people out there- when- when there’s people like- like Nigel, like Emily, like me,” you took a deep breath, nearly choking on your words because you were talking so fast, “who would give her the world if she asked for it. Who would do anything to have her attention. So- so why should she love you when you take it for granted? When you, who gets it for free, don’t have to bend over backwards for her affection? When- when- you- you attend events with her, you have dinner with her, she calls you darling! And you take it all for GRANTED - BECAUSE YOU JUST DON’T CARE!”

Your eyes were most likely bloodshot. Your body was shaking. Your head was pounding and your heart was in your throat.

But Stephen looked shocked, having taken more steps backward toward the stairs as you approached him like a blood-thirsty lioness. And at that, watching the way his hand scrambled for the banister, you felt a strange twist of pride creep throughout your heart.

…But it wasn’t enough. You wanted him gone. So you cleared your throat, straightened your spine, and sniffed.

“That’s enough.”

Of course. Miranda cut in, her cool voice dousing your rage like a bucket of water over burning coals; dragging you back into yourself from where you had gotten lost in the clouds; reminding you that you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place. That you were just an assistant. Just a young woman who had stepped out of line to try and protect a woman who didn’t really need it. And instinctively, as though you had been slapped in the face or tugged by a leash, you backpedaled until Miranda’s soft footsteps came over and her back faced you. Stephen’s expression was hidden.

“…I’ll contact Leslie in the morning,” her voice was soft… introspective… distant in a way that made you nervous. “Until then… find somewhere else to spend the night.”

And things grew very quiet.

The only sounds you heard were the bustle of the city and the individual breathing of the three of you. Everything else was silent. The rest of the house, empty without Patricia and the twins (all of which were visiting their grandparents), felt like a movie set with a hidden audience. As though, at about any minute, the credits for the end of the episode would roll and you, Miranda, and Stephen would let out sighs of relief and walk off set and go get cups of water and coffee. But even as you stood there, trying hard not to tilt to the left to watch Stephen walk downstairs and out of the house, you knew what had happened was no fun and games. No, you’d definitely be facing consequences once he was gone.

And finally, after a few more moments of prolonged silence, his footsteps were going down the stairs and into the foyer. Your eyes traced the contours of Miranda’s silk shirt, watching the way it flowed over her shoulders as she walked closer to the staircase to watch Stephen go. One minute- two minutes- and then the front door was opening and closing behind him…

…and silence fell again.

You swallowed, feeling as though you had suddenly been thrown into the center of the sun. The heat of your embarrassment was excruciating - and if Miranda turned around, she’d spot the blush on your cheeks instantaneously. But that was a strong if, because she hadn’t just yet. Nope, instead, she stood staring at the door, letting the air settle. And you weren’t going to interrupt that, so you kept your mouth shut and tried to rationalize mentally.

If she asked, you’d just tell her the truth. That the world got crueler each day and it was in your nature to worry and that no wife should ever come face to face with a furious partner - at least not without the chance to talk civilly at first. And then you’d tell her that it was okay if she wanted to fire you and that you were sorry for being so open and that if you had fucked things up, you’d do whatever you could to fix them.

…

The silence eventually became deafening. And there was an itch in your legs that was getting to you. And your hands were slowly untensing, left with an ache from the pressing of your fingernails. And the exhaustion from the long day was getting to you - so you cleared your throat and prepared yourself.

“Miranda, I’m so sor-”

“That was unnecessary.” You couldn’t hear an ounce of emotion in her tone.

And all you could do was nod and look down at your feet.

“I- I know. I know. But I just… I just couldn’t leave, Miranda.”

“You couldn’t or you didn’t want to?”

Well that was a brilliant question. One you wished you could answer without crying. One you wished you could answer without feeling like a complete loser.

“…Both, I guess.” You settled on the best option you could think of and began shaking your head when the only response you got was a low hum of acknowledgment.

And Miranda still hadn’t moved. She was probably compartmentalizing - or disappearing into her fashionable mind palace - all while you stood there looking at her like she had just smacked your ice cream onto the floor.

Well… if there was one thing you knew, it was that the tension-filled silence couldn’t continue. She could either fire you quickly or make it slow and painful, but either way you weren’t going down without a fight.

“Look, I’m sorry. I am. I know it was out of line and it was too much and I should’ve just kept my mouth shut but I promise I did it with good intentions. And I promise I wouldn’t have stayed if I wasn’t worried and I wouldn’t have said anything if I weren’t genuinely upset. And… and I don’t know if you want to fire me because of that, but if you’re gonna do it - please just get it over with. I know I’m a good assistant, I- I know I’ve learned quickly and I’m sorry that I just completely ruined that right now but if you somehow just gave me another chance, I wouldn’t make another mistake. I promise. And I wouldn’t- I- I-,” you stumbled over your words, feeling the intense pounding of your heart press up against your chest, like it was begging to bounce onto the floor and tumble down the stairs. And the feeling felt so sickening that you had to take a deep breath and shake your head and push down the angry, anxious, terrified tears that yearned to spill into your eyes. “And I- I’ll- I’ll never let anyone talk to you like that again… I promise.”

Your voice was frail. The fire from earlier was gone - as though it had never existed at all. And Miranda still just stood there, with her phone in one hand and her face turned away from you…. Like you weren’t good enough to see her. Like you didn’t deserve to know what she was thinki-”

“You talk too much.” It was the only thing she said before she turned around and walked right past you - faster than lightning.

And you blinked just in time, turning on your heel and staring after her.

“Wh-what? That’s it?” You called. No firing? No scolding?

The room she was heading into looked like a study - but that swiftly became unimportant when she paused at the door and turned to you.

Her face, lit up by the hall light, looked tired in the same way it was earlier. But her eyes… well there was something in them that you couldn’t place. It looked like amusement… and something softer. Something- dare you say- grateful. But it was probably just a trick of the light - and you were probably just hallucinating because of your own exhaustion - and she was most likely just itching to get her duty done and go to bed.

And you suspected that was the case until she took a second to look you up and down in that way that she did- with her blue eyes searching and her gaze laser-sharp- and eventually, eventually, she made it back up to your face. Her expression was blank.

“…On Monday morning, tell Emily that the clothing department has a new opening. Then tell everybody else.” There was a pause. “…And be prepared to start interviews on Tuesday.”

And the last you saw of her then- of the sweet poison you called Miranda Priestly- was the statuesque shape of her body’s side profile as she softly closed the study door.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Thank you for the request, anon! I understand this isn't terribly fluffy, but I wanted to make it as realistic as I could. I hope you enjoyed! - Ripley

(P.S. DWP is my favorite movie!)

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ════

#fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #dwp #dwpfanfic #miranda priestly #miranda priestly x reader #miranda priestly fanfiction #devil wears prada #ripsanonreply #request #anon request #devil wears prada miranda priestly #miranda priestly devil wears prada #the devil wears prada #tw #tw fanfic

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the-light-finds-its-way · 5 months

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Ya Titan is strong! Powerful!! Brave!! Enough so to realize when he needs to get help and assistance!! :)

I am physically disabled. The pain I feel in my legs and have felt all day every day awake and asleep since I was 11 years old, is finally becoming too much for me. I can still "walk" (read: limp). I can still stand. I can't do either very well or for very long, just a few minutes at a time, a few times a day. I can barely use stairs, and it's only gotten worse over the years.

So, I've decided to get an electric wheelchair. And that is great.

There are days where I can do workouts, walk 4 miles, and be completely fine. Then, there are days like today, where I have to call out of work because I'm in so much pain that I can't get out of bed, let alone move anything at all, without wanting to cry.

Just because I have good days, doesn't mean I can't have bad ones, too, and that those bad days can't be made easier. And a wheelchair is going to make things FAR better and easier for myself, and my poorly body.

I don't remember what it's like to walk, only what it's like to limp. I've never been pain free, but I manage the pain by sitting down. I haven't run since I was 9 years old, and now, I'm in my mid 20s.

When I was born, my parents were told I'd have a 1/100 chance to survive my heart and organ conditions, and that if I did, I'd be disabled and likely pass on early in life. For a brief few years, I could run, I could walk. Things were normal. I don't remember those days much, but there was one day where I ran, and began coughing profusely. I choked. That was... strange. Maybe I was sick? I got bronchitis frequently (3-4x a year), so maybe it was that?

In gym class, I continued trying to run. Every time, I'd start coughing uncontrollably, and struggle to breathe. I chose to stop running, and that didn't sit well with my teachers. At all.

Shortly thereafter, I began to get cramps in my legs. Kind of like growing pains, but not exactly... And then, months later, I hadn't grown one bit. But the pain stayed. Everyone around me was growing! But I stayed the same height, 4ft11in tall. Others reached well past 6ft. Their pains went away, but I knew this was something more, especially when, after 2 years, I was stuck at that height, and still in pain.

I resorted to limping everywhere, my legs aching constantly in random places, never consistent or in any pattern. My parents continued to tell me, for another 3 years, I was just growing. I'd grow out of the pain.

By 14, even my mom knew something was wrong because the pain was still there, and I still hadn't grown, and I still couldn't run without coughing. She went ahead, called a specialist, and brought me to him. I got blood work done, and when he looked over it, he said I was too young for lupus or arthritis, so he passed it off as an unknown illness, and sent me on my way without anything else.

My mom was livid. For another 2 years, she sought doctors to help me, with no success. By a miracle, my grandfather went to the hospital for pneumonia, and his nurse was a doctor who helped tremendously. Somehow, my mom convinced this doctor to take me on, despite the fact that I was 2 years too young for her practice, and when the doctor heard about my problems, she immediately sent me for more blood testing, called me in the moment results came, and diagnosed me with arthritis and lupus. She sent me to an asthma specialist, who diagnosed me with athletically induced asthma, and allergy asthma after several tests. I got an inhaler, and finally, I could work out without coughing!

But I still couldn't run without severe pain. I was still limping. And I was told, that pain will never go away. It will never get better, only worse. And I have no choice but to live with it forever.

And ever since, I've gone on, suffering, limping, never going very far. I can't go shopping without leaning on a cart, or cane. I can't go up a single flight of 5 stairs. And so, I acknowledged at long last that I need a wheelchair, and it's ok. This isn't a failure. This isn't giving up. Just like I have to get therapy and meds for my PTSD, and other mental illnesses, I have to get a mobility aid for my physical well-being.

I learned, when I was diagnosed with my mental illnesses, and reached my breaking point, I had to get help, and that there is nothing wrong with that, and there's no shame in it. It shows how strong I am because it proves I know when I need to rely on others since I've done all I can alone, and that has inherent strength in and of itself because accepting help is a step toward being more powerful by yourself.

And getting a mobility aid, I realized, is no different. It's accepting help so I can be more powerful on my own.

My father made me believe for years that accepting any help is a sign of weakness, and shows you're broken. He taught me that wheelchairs are exclusively for those who cannot walk at all, who are paralyzed or deformed or don't have legs.

But I've met a few specific people who, they've shown me otherwise. They're like me: they can walk, but it's hard and it hurts. And they taught me, I don't have to suffer by pretending to be able bodied. I don't have to mask as abled just to please my father, or society, or whoever. Just as I stopped masking my autism, I'm going to stop masking my physical disabilities.

And my old teacher, who supported me in every way throughout high school when almost everyone else made fun of me, said I'd amount to nothing, and wouldn't make it as a creative, she messaged me last night saying she has a wheelchair she's looking to get rid of, that it takes up room, and she'd love to help me out by selling it to me for whatever I think it's worth.

So, happy holidays to me. :) I'm buying a wheelchair, and I'm regaining my freedom. The pain may never get better, but my life as a whole can. And damn. My 2024 is looking great. Concerts, LARPs, 2 or more Renaissance festivals, a trip to Disney with my friends, another trip to the Poconos with the same people just weeks later, and finishing off the year with the Texas Viking Festival. I've quit college to work full time and save up for my own place. And I know, finally, it's going to be ok. For the first time in my life, I'm going to be ok. :)

#long post #mun is a titan #not destiny #disability #disabled pride

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yaozongzhupressoffice · 1 year

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Dear Yao-Zhongzhu, recently a few thing happened and I (43, M) heard some people thought I was in the wrong in my actions despite the fact I personally felt justified in my behavior. Because I know you are an enlightened gentleman such as myself I was interested in your opinion on the matter as it always insightful. See, recently I was celebrating my only son (15, M) birthday, and as I love all of my family dearly, I sparred no effort in making sure that nothing could trouble this celebration. Everything was going well until one of my assistant let me know that there was somebody that was insistently asking to meet me. Despite the fact that it was an impolite request as it was made without taking into account the importance of the celebration that was held today, and since I am nothing but willing to help my people, I decided to go expressly meet this person with the intent of dealing with their request in a swift manner. (It had nothing to do with the fact that my wife (37, F) was in the same room as me when the identity of the person was announced to me and that she looked at me like she wanted to kill me on the spot after hearing that). When I met the person in question (15, M) I was immensely surprised to learn that they were claiming to be my son ! For some mysterious reasons my wife was not as surprised. Because, you know how it is, we all have a few bastards here and here, sometimes it’s one or two, sometimes it’s six or seven, sometimes I’m not sure I can count that high ! But most of the time they don’t show up to your doorstep to your legitimate son birthday party ! My wife was clearly heartbroken by this unpleasant interruption to her dear son birthday party and by this reminder of the various difficulties we had concerning conjugal and private matters in our relationship. Being her husband, I immediately took the matter in my hands and had the unpleasant reminder removed from her sight by having a servant throwing him down the stairs of our humble mansion (barely 200 steps). The critics comes from some representants from another family (I shall not disclose their identity but it start with a L and they like bland food) considered that it was uncalled for and started saying some weird slogans like « do not bully the weak » or « have courtesy and integrity » and complained that he « might have died » (he clearly did not, he walked away after barley one minute of looking dead and he could even bow). I personally feel like it was in the right as my son birthday party and my wife mood were my priority at this moment as a father and husband. But to conclude this matter I wanted your opinion so, dear Yao-Zhongzhu, Am I the Asshole ?

[DRAFT DOCUMENT v.1.2 FOR COMMENT ONLY. NOT FOR RELEASE]

Dear Venerable Anon-zongzhu gongzi [REDACTED BY COUNSEL, contextual information will reveal the identity of the writer]

A thousand thanks and blessings upon you for gracing this humble one's inbox with your question, and please extend my warmest well-wishes to Jin-furen [revise and anonymize--see above]. Of course, of course you wish only to ensure that your wife and heir have the peace of such a special day protected from interlopers, particularly when those interlopers are perpetuating such terrible and UNFOUNDED rumours!!! Furthermore, as we all know by now, the interloper in question was [REDACTED IN WHOLE; see above. zongzhu must endeavour not to include privileged information that will reveal the identity of the writer. please see the attached guidelines regarding how to avoid revealing personally identifiable information in official communications]

Naturally when a man of your elevated station [see above] must balance those oft-opposed ballasts of manhood and respecting your wife, it is inevitable that one must sire a bastard or two. [please see the attached sensitivity training slide deck made available at last year's general discussion conference] Who among us hasn't, after all, haha!! [REDACTED BY COUNSEL, irrelevant to the scope of the inquiry]

No, I will be honest with you, anon-zongzhu gongzi, and will share with you my real and whole opinion on this deeply personal family matter as you have laid it out before us:

[REDACTED IN FULL. zongzhu, call me asap]

#yao zongzhu’s press office

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thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite · 5 days

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[[REFUSING ASSISTANCE TO DISABLED PEOPLE]]

The place was busy.

Even the outside of the building hadn’t been the prettiest when the five found it with dirty, chipped, bricks and looking a little structurally tilted. They squeezed through the entrance anyway, which became more of a hassle when they had to use the stairs.

The inside of the shelter was worse. It wasn't really how it looked, but rather everything else. Mindless and buzzing chatter came from every direction, much louder than the streets they had been walking through for hours. It was already overwhelming and they hadn’t even gotten further than the door. With chatter came people. A lot of people. The smell wasn’t any more pleasant. Pokey took hold of Wiggly’s arm as they were forcibly shoved together. Blinky held Nibbly’s hand tighter and Tinky, having been pushed to the back of the group, tensed up, eyes darting around.

Pokey and Blinky explained the situation - as much as they can without mentioning anything off putting - to the person who was filing people in. A guy with his blonde hair tied back behind a desk. Explaining took a lot of shout-talking. Eventually, he looked over to Wiggly.

“I can’t let you in.”

...What? Why not?

“We don’t take in people with major physical disabilities overnight.”

Blinky stared.

What kind of rule is that?

The guy gave him a dirty look. Blinky breathed in and tried again.

…That shouldn’t be a problem. We’re not staying overnight. We just need to shower. We haven’t had one in a week and this is the best we have. It won’t take long.

This was too important to just let go of. Bliklotep wouldn’t let them leave empty handed and dirty.

“You can’t just stay for a few hours. If you sign in, then it has to be overnight. And we can’t deal with disabilities.”

They stared each other down, neither of them too happy.

And if we don’t sign in?

“Then I can’t let you in at all. Liability or not.”

Bliklotep felt his migraine coming back.

…Look, we just walked for hours to get here. I’ve had an awful day so far, and now you’re telling me we can’t get into your shelter that helps people for two hours? I mean, what, are you going to get fired?!

“It’s a charity organization. I volunteer.”

Some fucking charity.

Pokey tugged at his sleeve.

Blinky-

Bliklotep yanked away and grabbed his hand, seething.

What’s stopping us from just walking in, huh?

“Then you would be a danger and a liability. I have the right to kick you out.”

Yeah? And I can bite. I know all about human rights violations, and refusing help is absolutely one of them.

He pulled Pokey away, eyeing the entrance past the desk. He grabbed his brother by both shoulders.

Pokey, take Wiggly’s crutches. Have T’noy carry him, I’ll get Nibbly. When I give you the signal, we’re running through that doorway.

Pokey glanced at the entryway with apprehension. Blinky squeezed his shoulder.

I won’t let them do anything.

Pokotho nodded. Blinky let go and maneuvered through people to get to Nibblenephim, casually holding his hand tighter than normal.

Do you have the shower stuff?

Nibbly swung the bag.

Mm-hm. What were you yelling about?

Nothing important.

Pokey informed Tinky of the plan, and he, still looking uncomfortable and a little pale, obeyed.

OK. On my count…

Blinky inches closer to the front of the crowd.

Go!

They stumbled through people and almost tripped, but managed to pull through and come out the other side of the sea of chatter.

“HEY!”

The volunteer was ignored for the most part. Bliklotep scanned around for anything resembling showers.

There!

He led his siblings, rather hurriedly, to the cubicles that were barely big enough to fit one person. All they had was tile, a shower head, and a thin curtain separating them from the outside. Thankfully, three of them were empty. Blinky yanked out what they needed - shampoo and soap - and held them out, breathing heavily and still more-or-less shouting, despite the quieter talk all around.

Who’s first? We don’t have a lot of time if he was serious about kicking us out.

#(Written by someone who has little experience with these matters. Also if more warnings are required I advise that you say so //OOC)#Bliklotep #Blog Event: Hatchetfield Citizens #ask blog #Pokotho #Nibblenephim #rp blog #hatchetfield rp #the lords in black

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walaskart · 7 months

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Let's Hang Together

Chapter 4/7

After you finish unpacking, Swiss left you alone to get comfortable in your room without him, though it felt like he never left. After you make your bed, you lay down on it, exhausted, and only able to think about Swiss. Sure, because of him your friends stopped talking to you, but they were never good friends, to begin with. Swiss, however, genuinely liked you and seems interested in getting to know you.

You just can’t stop thinking about him. And now you have to know what he looks like under the mask. He has to be handsome, to match the rest of him. To match the broad shoulders and big hands. To match the adorable smile and contagious laugh. He’s kind, he’s tall, and he cares about you.

You shouldn’t be thinking about him that way. You still question if you can trust him, after all, he did go behind your back to make you his assistant. But you were curious. Not just about his face, but about being a ghoul in general. Despite all reason, something inside you is telling you to trust him. So you decide to take a leap of faith.

The next day, as soon as you step of off your room, Swiss is leaning against the wall by your door.

“About time you got up, sister! You and I have a lot to do today.” He puts a hand on your lower back to guide you as you walk with him.

“What are we doing?” You blush at the contact and hope Swiss doesn’t notice.

“You’ll see when we get there.” His hand presses into your back a little more as you turn down a hallway.

Eventually, you arrive at the library, and Swiss guides you to the second floor, somewhere in the back corner where no one ever goes.

“Today, you’ll be getting a history lesson.” Rather than find a book, he finds two chairs hidden behind a shelf. Swiss sits in one and motions for you to sit in the other.

You sit across from him. “I already know the whole history of the church. That’s part of the studies I had to take when becoming a Sister of Satan.”

“No, honey, not the church.” Swiss spreads his legs and leans to get closer to you, placing an arm on either leg. “The history of the ghouls.”

“Oh.” You are intrigued by this topic though unsure as to why Swiss would do this for you. So you ask, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Honey,” He sighs and sits up, scanning the shelves, for a distraction or for a book you can’t tell. “I trust you. Somehow, someway, I trust you. And I want you to know.”

“Oh,” You say again. You don’t quite know how to respond to Swiss, especially since you feel like he’s baring his heart to you.

Swiss simply smiles before he goes on. “Ghouls were created with a purpose…”

You listen intently and watch him with wide eyes as he explains the origin of ghouls, how they left hell, and why they spread the message of The Ministry. As he speaks, you notice how he uses his hands as he talks, they move with each word, expressing the meaning of his lesson. You notice how passionate he becomes when he tells you the myths of the ghouls and where the helmets came from. His voice calms you and you’re hanging onto every word.

Eventually, Swiss’s story comes to an end and all you’re able to say is, “Wow.” Which makes Swiss chuckle.

“‘Wow’ is right, honey.” His eyes wander over you for a moment. “You look tired, did my history lesson bore you?”

“No! Not at all.” You clear your throat and regret your next choice of words. “You’re voice is calming.”

“Hm,” He smiles. “I’ll take it.” Swiss stands and reaches his hand out for you to take. “Come on, I have something else to show you.”

You take his hand and he pulls you to your feet. Even standing, he doesn’t let go of your hand, instead lacing his fingers with yours.

“Ready for a surprise, my sister?” Swiss gives your hand a squeeze as he pulls you, guiding you down the stairs and out of the library.

“Ready, my ghoul.” You couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your face as you ran through the hallways laughing, hand in hand.

#ghost the band #ghost #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #ITS GOIN DOWNHILL FROM HERE #ANGST TIME #swiss ghoul x reader #swiss ghoul

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fateheartblog · 9 months

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Home - Sobfest Starless Sea event

My submission for @thehauntedair 's September sobfest fic event - making Dorian cry.

This one is, as ever, contingent upon the Fateheart timeline. Sorry about it (but not really). Also I have not even slightly read this for typos.

And it's way too long, but oh well. Dorian cries and gets hugged about it. It's a good time.

Home

Dorian stands up.

He sees in the window panels the faces that look to him. He sees his own. The Tokyo night beyond it is startling as it sharpens into focus. A galaxy rendered closer by attention. A star mess he is lost in, standing at the far side of the table.

The room has fallen silent.

“I have to go.”

They glance at each other. The conversation has been long and tense. The hours just as long. Empty coffee cups are little satellite dishes amongst the papers and scrawled suggestions about how to move forwards. But without the town planning information they don’t stand a chance of solving this this evening.

And he’s tired.

Shever has stood as well. “Can I assist you?”

“No, you’re alright. Is Leander still here?”

She stands down at a lift of his hand.

“Yes,” offers Farne. “He’s gone up to a room. He wanted to stay so if he was needed in the morning he’d be on hand.”

Dorian nods, thanks them, ends the meeting, leaves, climbs the stairs, makes eye contact, does not make eye contact. Wonders, amongst those littering stars and the Tokyo striplights, what is wrong.

He’s not sure. But that in itself feels wrong.

Knowing himself is half the battle. Standing firm in the centre of this maelstrom is so much of the winning. Anchorage in the face of all kinds of weather. These people - his people - who drift in the sky, catching the turbulence and following it, reporting it back to him. All tied to him.

Being ‘not sure’ can be the death of so many things. Certainty.

He is walking quickly down the corridor. He is high above the world. He has a signet ring on his left hand bearing the embossed face of an owl - sharp lines, barely signifying a creature. More of a symbol than an image. A crown etched above it. Eyes perfectly open. Sight unclouded. Sure.

The room unlocks at the touch of the ring, as all of them do. A key as well as a crown. Hidden at the heart of the owl there. A heart as well as a feather.

The symbols dance around his head in the dark.

He crouches by the bed.

“Leander.”

Leander jolts awake, turning to stare at him. He pushes himself up quickly.

“Dorian - is everything okay?”

“Sorry to wake you. There’s no emergency, it’s okay.” He lets Leander blink a few times. The light from the corridor has made a landing strip across the blanket. The room would be spartan and miserable but for the presence of a dear friend and a shelf of books. “I’m leaving. I’m going back to the Harbour. Just… just for tonight. For now. Possibly tomorrow as well. To be honest, we’re not getting anywhere with the municipal office in the foreseeable future anyway, and all the Owls assure me the consequences of going ahead without permission would be considerably more dire than waiting.” Dorian sighs and stands up again, looking out to the landing.

The light out there does not seem as bright as it does once it has fallen in here. Or maybe it is because here there is darkness to cut through.

“That’s fair. I thought it might take a few days. Happy to stay, if you need me.”

“That would be helpful, if that’s okay,” Dorian answers without turning back.

Silence.

“Dorian, has something happened?”

Dorian does not answer. He does not turn.

“Do you ever…” The crown, the heart, the feather. A faint buzzing. Some kind of story. A sword upon his chest. A key above his heart. A heart that gives a crown. A crown upon a feather. Dorian looks back at Leander in the darkness. “Do you ever feel all of a sudden that you’re in the wrong place? That there’s a place you are supposed to be - absolutely and unequivocally. And you have to be there. No matter what. No matter why.”

Leander looks at him for a long minute. “Yes.”

Dorian nods. “I have to go home. Right now.”

“Is Zachary okay?”

“Yes. Well, I’m assuming so. I haven’t… I haven’t called him yet.”

“Right. Are you okay?”

This is much harder to answer. Dorian looks back at him, feeling the answer with some difficulty. Because he’s not sure why.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Leander says, and after a brief pause he shuffles out of the bed, leaning over and turning on a lamp with a touch of a stump. Dorian takes a step back in the light.

“I don’t know… what’s wrong. I’m not sure.”

Leander looks him up and down, his hair tousled, eyes puffy with sleep. “Does there have to be a reason? Sometimes you just get homesick. That’s fair. It’s been an exhausting few days and I was only here for two of them.”

Dorian frowns.

“Do you need me to get up and like, be functional?”

“No. You can go back to sleep. I just wanted you to know what you’d be waking up to. And to ask - if anything happens, call me immediately. Please.”

Leander nods and falls back onto the bed.

“Gotcha. Go home, Dorian. Take a breather. Sounds good.” He is asleep again before Dorian has closed the door behind him.

He does not call Zachary as he descends the stairway, fourteen floors through the hotel. He does not call Zachary as he debriefs Shever in the lobby and pulls his coat on. He does not call Zachary as he walks out into the night, moving swiftly through the people and the lights and the stars the stars the stars.

And then he’s sat on a train, heading away from all those stars. And the phone is in his hand, and he cannot work out why he is hesitating.The last train out of Tokyo that night is quite empty. One man further down is reading a book. A trio of teenagers are talking quietly in the stark carriage lighting.

It takes him nearly forty miles to dial the number.

He doesn’t answer the first time.

He does answer the second time.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Hey, Zachary. It’s me. Hey.” He stares out of the window. Instinctively turning his head away from the carriage, hiding his mouth. At such an angle that even in the reflection his words can’t be read on his lips.

“Oh hey! Dorian. Hi. You okay?”

He stares at his own face in the darkness. Old instincts, an old restlessness. Running.

“Dorian?”

“I’m here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“Oh no - has something - I’m - hang on - what’s happened - I can-”

“No, no, nothing’s happened. I’m okay. Stay where you are, my love. I…”

“No, I’ll come, it’s okay-”

“No, you don’t need to. I’m coming home. I’m - I’m on my way back now.”

“You… you are?”

“Yeah. I’ll be, um, an hour or two. Probably closer to two, actually. I’ll keep you updated.”

“O-okay. You’re coming home?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh Dorian.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

Dorian tips his head a little, hiding from the world. Unseen, unnoticed in the darkness and the harsh white of the train carriage lights. The starscape that ricochets by is bitingly cold against his forehead. The darkness is sheer glass and chill but at least there are stars. At least there are stars.

“Could you-” His voice breaks. He shuffles a little further down in his seat. “Could you say that again?”

“I love you,” Zachary says immediately.

Dorian closes his eyes. “I love you too,” he says into the phone, and something hurtles past. An unfamiliar city. Well, not quite true. He’s lived here. He’s lived so many places. If you could call it living. One all too familiar city out of many. One train out of thousands. One fractured existence over decades of loneliness.

“I love you,” he is saying again. And again and again. “Come home for a night. Let me look after you. You said… you said it’s been going badly. Are you just… has something happened, Dorian?”

The train window is sheer cold and hard, unforgiving vibration against his head. The train carriage smells of city and breath and fatigue and it makes him so, so tired. So many lifetimes spent on trains. So many cities.

“No,” he clears his throat. “I don’t… I couldn’t even tell you, really.”

The pause is only a moment.

“Oh, Dorian.”

He knows he’s crying. Zachary can always tell. Even though Dorian himself could barely tell. Could barely have said why.

Leander’s voice comes back to him, rattling beneath the seats the way the metal panels do as the train takes him home. Sometimes you just get homesick.

He opens his eyes, which lets loose a few more tears. He sits back a little, keeping his breathing steady, though the crying is steadier.

“Something about being in Japan,” he says eventually. Hiding his mouth with the hand which holds the phone. Just an instinct. An automatic one - to hide himself, his speech, his voice. To press against that cold hard darkness as the stars slip by.

“You spent quite a lot of time there, didn’t you?”

Dorian can hear that Zachary is moving. He hasn’t asked where he is. The phone works underground now - he’s probably in the Harbour somewhere. He can hear background music possibly but that doesn’t mean he’s at home.

Home.

“I did, yeah. But that’s not bothered me so much before. I think… I realised after today. You know it’s been difficult. The whole prefecture is in Sinjuin’s pocket. We got nowhere with it today. And I was just… I was sitting there-” Dorian breaks off as that feeling from the conference room washes through him again.

He leans back into the seat, but his chest has constricted.

He wishes he wasn’t on a train. He wishes his husband was with him, to catch this, to understand him, to help his breathing ease.

He wishes he wasn’t in public. Out in a world he trained hard for years never to trust. A world he has learnt to navigate in darkness.

He wishes he was home.

“I love you,” Zachary says again, and his chest loosens enough for him to talk through the tears.

“I realised, Zachary. I realised I wanted - I wanted to go home. And that’s - sometimes when I’m - I don’t always - I don’t usually-” It is difficult to find the words. It is difficult to do anything but cry.

“Oh, my Dorian. I’m sorry. I love you. So, so much.”

Zachary sits with him in the silence. A world away. A home, waiting for him. A home to go back to. Something he has never had before.

Eventually he manages to talk.

“I realised I had a place to long for. I realised I was homesick. And so… I wanted to come home.”

He ends in a whisper. He hears Zachary let out a long breath.

“I’m gonna come up to the cave. I’ll come wait for you by the door, yeah? We can - we can do something fun this evening, if you - wait, it’s the middle of the night for you, isn’t it? Well-”

“You don’t need to come wait for me, Zachary, I-”

“But I want to.”

Dorian finds himself laughing at the slightly put-out tone in his husband’s voice. And it doesn’t stop him crying. In fact it compounds it into something that might be hiccups.

Which quiet down back into gentle crying as the train and the night and the aching for home stretches on.

He nearly falls asleep. Zachary stays on the phone with him for a bit until the battery protests. But by that time he is nearly home.

Nearly home.

He had managed to persuade Zachary not to come sit in the entrance hall, though he is half-expecting to see him there when he opens the door. The cave is cold, but the two women passing outwards into the world beam at him. And the elevator moves smoothly. And the air is warm and soothing and tastes of lemongrass and honey and a little bit of blossom and apple and wood.

And the chamber doors open to the warm golden glow of the Starless Sea. And he is being greeted by several voices in the entrance way. And there is his husband.

Dorian takes a deep breath as Zachary closes his book and rises from a bench in the alcove.

He slips an arm around him, but he is looking out at the honey. That deep wave of a strange, pulling ache breaks upon the shore of his home.

“Hey. Hey, Dorian. Welcome home.”

He stands beneath the constellations of the vaulted antechamber and holds his husband.

Dorian feels so many things ease from his constricted ribs, his hurting, releasing heart, in Zachary’s arms.

He pulls back, looking over his face.

“You okay?”

Dorian smiles. Tears are pricking again, but they feel a little more like relief now.

“Oh yes,” he murmurs, and brings his lips to his for a slow, long kiss. “I’m home.”

fin.

#the starless sea #september sobfest #Dorian #Zachary/Dorian #fic #fic event #gonna pretend I thought the brief said 10 000 words #lol

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tetsunabouquet · 11 months

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Basic Instinct Chapter 14

A/N: Well, you know what you're in for at this point. Fujioka is pulling his hero cape on, be prepared.

Fujioka had decided to summon the other servants who had been hired under the Kaneshiro name, Umemiya the assistant chef and chambermaid Yuuki. He needed them for his plan. Now was the time to rescue Seijuro and unleash a war. But then again, didn't Masaomi already unleash the war by taking away Seijuro's life in the first place? Fujioka waited nearby the stables. he knew Masaomi was suspicious of him the most right now, so it would be best to converse his plan away from the man's ears. He could see the two walking towards him. Yuuki was a relatively young maid, being in her mid-thirties. Rima had hired her to take care of Shiori and to file in reports on her health when she started getting sick. Rima wanted her own people to report to her, not Masaomi's servants. Yuuki had stuck around out of pity towards young Seijuro. Assistant-chef Umemiya had been hired in the aftermath of Shiori's death. When replacing her in the kitchen, Masaomi had forgotten to hire an assistant for their new chef. Lady Rima had again stepped in. They technically also had Tamamura Anna, the head of the cleaning ladies. She had been assigned to cleaning Shiori's room when she was just a little girl, and was older then any of the servants in the Akashi household. To Fujioka, she seemed ancient and to never be effected by her old age. It was almost something magical, which is why, when she went on one of her rare vacation trips last month, some of the younger servants were gossiping that,"'the old crone is undoubtedly going to kill some young kids to steal their youth. As how else does she do it?"' Fujioka had to inform her after he had taken care of everything. The old bat was even more loyal to the Kaneshiro clan then he was Umemiya smiled hesitantly at him. "Hey, we got your message." "It has to do with young Seijuro-sama, isn't it?!" Yuuki stressed, looking like an agitated bird. Panic at the unfolding events had definitely struck her. "Yes. It is obvious, it cannot continue on like this. We need to interfere. Now." Fuijioka answered, and Umemiya ran a hand through his long, luscious black hair. "Well, what are you planning?" "Calling on Rima-sama won't be enough. We need to move him to his grandmother's, tonight." "Rim-" Umemiya quickly clamped his hand for Yuuki's hand, before she could squeak the name. Though it was clear he was also shaken by the suggestion. Moving Seijuro to his grandmother would certainly not go by without any drama. He did not want to be caught in Masaomi's and Rima's crossfire, that's for sure. "How are you going about that without getting someone killed?" Umemiya asked. "That depends on how well my plan is executed. Masaomi doesn't trusts me at the moment, so Yuuki, you need to deliver the message for Seijuro to pack a small bag for himself, only necesseties. Umemiya, in the meantime, grab whatever belongings you have in the kitchen and prepare a car. I suggest the lotus, it's at the back. Barely anyone goes there, Masaomi has used that car only twice in the decade he's owned it. In the meantime, I will gather my own necesseties, and I suggest you do the same after delivering the message Yuuki. Masaomi will not abandon his strict night routine for anything, he didn't even after Shiori's passing. Once he's off to bed, we're gone." Umemiya slowly nodded and Yuuki gulped but nodded furiously. "It's time to save the young master," said Umemiya as a grin broke out on his face.

Yuuki left as she was told, hurrying up the stairs. She could hear the painful cries coming from Seijuro's room, and her heart broke. 'that poor boy. How can his father treat him so terribly?' She entered the room, and she saw him sprawled on the bed, both his pupils and sclera bright red, his cheeks pink from the tears. "Don't cry Seijuro-sama," she rushed to his bed. "Fujioka-san has a plan. We're taking you to your grandmother's." Seijuro looked at her with a dumbfounded expression. "Grandma Rima?" "Yes. Pack a small bag, necesseties only. We will help you live the life you want, so please don't cry. Your father won't win, I promise." Seijuro didn't knew wether he wanted to laugh or cry more but he did as he was asked. Desperate he was, not the be parted from his friends. But he was even more desperate, not the be parted from you.

#knb #kuroko's basketball #akashi #akashi seijuro #basic instinct #knb x reader #akashi masaomi #fujioka to the rescue #running away #akashi x reader #akashi seijuurou x reader

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raytm · 1 month

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the girl is an eldritch monstrosity, that is what the man thinks. she does not know his name, it is entirely unnecessary for them to be familiar with one another. she was scrutinizing him, from beneath the soft flutter of her lashes he can see the esurient carmine of her eyes. she hasn’t moved in a while now, so still that the moonlight casts her shadow in long, undulating streaks across the endless gray concrete ocean. he’s sizing her up, preparing for the moment when she will rip out his throat, ravenous and infinitely heinous. his hands are bound, the rope woven so tightly that it carves away at his skin, harrowing red marks encircle his stuttering pulse, elevating higher and higher until he can feel his heart hammering at the back of his throat. he cannot scream, a firm wad of fabric is wedged into his mouth, his jaw aching from the sheer amount of hours that have passed in that stagnant silence. she’s watching him, so closely he can feel it ease under his skin, can feel them flaying it from his bones, that she’s eating away at him without so much as having to move.

when she does move, her steps are light, her eyes shining, baleful. she asks questions of him, her voice a striking lilt of mirth, her hands steepled behind her back, each step she takes around the chair he’s bound to is exaggerated, long strides with bare feet. she wants to know how he works, he doesn’t know how to answer her, her impatient hum fills him with a sense of dread, he’s going to die, the man thinks. she doesn’t intend to kill him, he was far less useful to her dead than alive. this girl, sparkle, wants to become that man. it was such a facile thing, peeling away another’s skin and easing her way into their husk. it was a far more intricate thing to augment herself to their identity, to wring her hands in the fretful way he tended to, her forehead beading with perspiration like his, how it shimmers in the oscillating shafts of light. she leans back on her heels, regarding him now with the inquisitiveness of a predator, toying with its prey before its jaws rend thick slabs of meat from fragile bone. she leans down, picking up the cloth now sullied with saliva and dirt, gets close - so very close to him and shoves it brutally back into his mouth.

this had happened for night upon night, the nameless man was certain he wasn’t the only one in that narrow, dimly lit room, he could hear the wrangled sobs of fear being muffled by similar wads of disgusting fabric. he thinks he’s going to die, maybe he wishes he was already dead. the girl with the cat-eyes doesn’t return for a few hours and when she does she does so with a child in tow. the man doesn’t recognise the child, fear prickles along his spine, what is she going to do with them. nothing grotesque comes from their interactions, the girl gives the child a mask, a wicked fox mask, it’s smile a carving of blistering white. the child holds it tentatively, he thinks the child is speaking to the girl - the girl, seemingly satisfied with their answer, brings out a piece of bread and breaks it in half, offering the other half to the child, like a reward.

the nights go on like this for what he believes is almost a week, malevolent stretches of yawning darkness only interrupted when the girl walks down those three sets of stairs, thud, thud, thud, before hitting the landing. then, without warning, she wraps a cloth around his eyes, it reeks of something vile, vomit - maybe, and guides him up those precarious steps. he believes this will be his execution, she will slit his throat and his blood will seep into the earth and he will finally, finally, be dead. she doesn’t. It’s such a peculiar thing, the girl wrenches the fabric off of his eyes and he’s momentarily blinded by the flood of light, the moon, huge and luminous, the sky, endless and black. the girl steps back, does a little performative bow and thanks him for all his assistance. he thinks he’s going to be sick, his stomach churns, fear and seething anger. the girl does not fear him, she knows however, that he fears her and when she leaves, he’s abandoned there, in a no name town, alone. he is left with the lingering sense of anxiety - why had that girl thanked him.

#remember in sparkle's lore when she kidnapped some people and just asked them a bunch of questions.#yeah me too.#* ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𝑆𝑃𝐴𝑅𝐾𝐿𝐸. › 𝐢𝐜.

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 9 months

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Wait

ao3

ffn

chapter index

Anna watched her daughter Inga run back to the castle. She had the council scheduled to meet the following afternoon, but Inga was asking to meet with only herself and Kristoff, along with Henry. She was going ahead with this, even if she still hadn’t said so in so many words. Most of the past year there had been rumors that the two of them might be engaged, but for Anna it still seemed like a bit of a surprise. Anna had pictured Inga growing up, assisting her more and more with royal duties, or traveling abroad if she so desired. Until recently, she hadn’t seemed interested in any sort of romance.

Still, Henry seemed like a good choice. They already knew the family, and Elsa had expressed no concerns about Henry from the summer before, so what more was there to do than get the blessing of the council to move forward?

***

Inga was feeling giddy as she made her way up the stairs, trying not to run and attract attention. She found herself at the top of the stairs in the guest wing. Henry came running up the stairs behind her.

“I thought you were already here!” she whispered.

He was a little out of breath. “A few more people wanted to talk to me, sorry!” he panted.

Inga grabbed his hands. “You told me you had something for me?”

He smiled, and they walked to his room.

“Wait right here!”

He let himself into his room, leaving the door open a crack. Inga walked over but resisted the urge to look in. He would be out in a moment. Suddenly, she heard someone coming from around the corner, and jumped into the room in a panic. The door shut behind her with a light slam.

The window was wide open, letting in the warm summer air. The music and muffled voices from the party down below made her wonder if anyone had noticed that she was gone.

Henry looked up in surprise. He was unbuttoning his shirt, and it took Inga a minute to look away, focusing on his jacket, vest, and tie tossed on the back of a chair.

“Sorry,” she apologized, glancing back at Henry, “someone was coming, and I didn’t want to be seen lingering around up here.”

“Oh, it’s, um, fine,” he replied, fiddling with the button that was halfway out of a buttonhole. “I didn’t mean to be so long, um, but when I saw James earlier, he made a comment about needing to send my things to the laundry tomorrow, so, um, I wanted to change shirts. It’s warm, and-”

“It’s fine,” Inga said before he could continue. “I was with you all night.”

Inga stepped toward him, glancing at his hands on his shirt. “It is rather warm though, isn’t it?”

Henry looked her up and down. “You are much better dressed for the weather than I am.”

Inga fiddled with the chain around her neck without thinking about it.

“You can take the ring out of hiding, now,” Henry smiled.

“Could you help me with the chain?” Inga asked, stepping toward him, lifting her hair.

“How do you even get this off?”

“There’s a clasp right there,” Inga explained.

“Oh, um, yes, I knew about the necklace,” he stammered, “but, your dress…”

“What?”

“Sorry, you can pretend I didn’t say that,” he apologized and stepped back, holding the chain with the ring in his hand.

Inga reached for the necklace, leaving her hand in his. “I can get this dress on and off on my own. It’s easy.”

“You-”

“Nevermind,” Inga interrupted. “You had something for me?”

Henry set the necklace on the bedside table and picked up a small wrapped package tied up with string.

“What’s that?” Inga asked as he handed it to her. She untied the string and pulled aside the paper to reveal a small framed painting of herself, the way she had dressed at his coronation ball the summer before. She could only stare at it.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

She kissed him. “Yes,” she said, holding the painting to her chest.

He touched her cheek, tracing a line down to her shoulder, which her dress left exposed. He played with the tassels on the short sleeve, before his hand moved down to her bare arm. She shuddered a little bit and giggled. They weren’t supposed to be in a room alone like this, and yet here they were. There was something exciting about it.

***

The sun had set over the ocean an hour earlier, but the sky remained light. The party would continue through the night. Anna loved the activity.

Kristoff helped Anna fend off diplomats who didn’t want to wait for their scheduled appointments later in the week, and they danced together as the light faded.

After a particularly vigorous dance, they took a break to walk through the gardens.

“So,” Kristoff began, “does the council know why you’re calling them together tomorrow afternoon?”

“I suppose some of them suspect,” Anna said. “Dagmar told me as much.”

“I forgot she’s on the council,” Kristoff laughed.

“We rarely need her for a quorum, and her estate is a bit far.”

Kristoff nodded. “Are you going to start planning the wedding, then?”

“Only if Inga wants. And I don’t want to rush her, of course. They’re both young, so they can wait.”

Kristoff gave her a look.

“They can wait,” Anna repeated. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Kristoff gave a bit of a smile. “I’d be happy for them to wait, of course. There isn’t any hurry.”

The clock struck midnight, barely audible over the continued music of the party in the courtyard. Elsa appeared at the edge of the garden.

“I’m glad I found you,” she told Anna. “I just wanted to let you know I’m heading to bed now. Do you think breakfast tomorrow will work?”

“Around ten?” Anna asked.

“Perfect. It was a delightful party, Anna.”

“Good night.”

***

Elsa walked up the stairs toward the family bedrooms. At the top of the stairs, she heard some commotion, and Frederick, Anton, and Peder ran past her on the stairs and toward their rooms.

“It’s after midnight. You should try to be quieter so people can sleep.”

“Everyone is still at the party,” Anton protested.

“I’m not,” Elsa reminded him.

“Well, almost everyone.”

“Inga already went to bed, and we’re right outside her room.”

“I didn’t see her come in,” Frederick said.

“It was an hour ago,” Elsa pointed out, “and if you’ve been running around like that, I’m pretty sure you missed her.”

“Oh,” Frederick sighed.

“You don’t have to go to bed,” Elsa offered, “but maybe find someplace away from the bedrooms to run around? And please, not the guest wing!”

“Fine,” the boys groaned.

“Good night,” Elsa said.

“Good night, Aunt Elsa.”

***

The morning sun streamed across the room, and the door opened without a knock.

“Oh, excuse me, Your Highness,” James apologized, “I was not expecting you to be up this early.”

“I… it’s the sunrise. It’s so early here, you know, James,” Henry answered with an unsteady voice.

“Very well,” James said, bustling around the room, “I’ll just take these to the laundry, if you don’t mind.”

“Thank you, James,” Henry replied, letting out a long breath as the door closed behind his valet.

***

It was hot and noisy in the laundry, and as usual in the summer, they tried to get started before dawn, in the hopes of being done before the heat of the day, particularly if there were any guests at the castle. The regular diplomats who stayed on were bad enough, but other visitors would send down clothes at such odd times, they simply needed to be ready.

“The nerve of some of these visitors,” the younger girl complained, “This dress, her maid only brought it down not even a half hour ago, and we’re supposed to drop the other laundry to get it clean!”

“Are you complaining about that dress?” the head laundress shouted over the din, “the dress belongs to the daughter of the Queen’s former lady-in-waiting, I’ll have you know.”

“We’re working on it,” the older girl shouted, “but you might want to check on the man who just came in here. He's standing in the doorway right behind you.”

“Yes, what is it?” the head laundress grunted at the foreign valet standing there.

“Sorry, this place is so confusing. It took me forever to get here. I see others know their way better than I do,” he said, eying the dress.

The laundress raised an eyebrow. “Just tell me what you need us to do.”

“Could you just see that Prince Henry’s clothes get cleaned?” the valet told the head laundress.

“Prince Henry, eh?” the woman said. “Well, here, give me His Royal Highness’s clothes. I'll make sure they’re taken care of!”

“Thank you,” the valet said, exiting the laundry.

The woman went back to talking.

“Wait, you say the chambermaid saw that girl going into his room last night?” was the last thing James heard as he went up the stairs.

***

Inga lay on her bed, thinking about getting ready for the day. A bath first might be good. Perhaps she should call up Oline to collect her dress, but then they would feel the need to run her bath for her, and she could do that herself.

She and Henry were going to be meeting with her parents, and the council was already called to meet later in the afternoon. She felt a little giddy, but also a little terrified at the idea. Henry had mentioned the steamships between Arendelle and Corona, so they could probably get his family over in time for a wedding. Wedding planning wasn’t a thing she put much thought into. She just wanted to get married.

Kate and Edith would giggle about weddings all the time, discussing dress details and bridesmaids and flowers and cake, though as far as she could tell from their conversations, they didn’t have anyone in mind to take part in their future wedding plans yet. It didn’t matter to the sisters, they just liked the idea of weddings.

Inga set the water running in the bathtub, got some towels ready, and went back to check on the clothes she would put on. She thought of the ring and felt her finger. But of course it wouldn’t be there, because she had been wearing it on a necklace. She put her hand to her neck, then looked over on the nightstand, but it wasn’t there. She must have left it in Henry’s room.

Inga decided not to let this bother her, and went to soak in the tub. She thought about what they might say when meeting with her parents. Her mother wouldn’t be surprised, of course, so there would be no objection.

Frederick had mentioned to her more than once that the council would probably quickly decide against having her first in the line of succession if she was married to Henry. She had never particularly liked changing the succession, anyway, and even if she had felt ambitious, she could understand that the council would not want the risk of having the two countries in personal union. But as it was, she was glad if the decision was made simpler.

The water started to cool down while she was lost in thought, and even with the warm breeze coming through the window, she decided it was time to get out. She dried off and began to dress, finding something appropriate for the meeting with her parents. Once she was dressed and her hair done, she rang for Oline to come up.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Oline said as she came in.

“I just need my dress from the party taken to the laundry,” Inga smiled.

“Will Your Highness need it soon? There’s a bit of a backup with all the guests.”

“Goodness, no, I don’t think I’ll be wearing the dress for a while yet.”

“Very good, Your Highness,” Oline replied with a curtsey, picking up the clothes to leave.

***

Henry lay in bed and looked around as the sun slowly moved across the room. Soon, he would need to get ready, since he was going to be meeting with Inga’s parents later in the day. His painting of Inga was still sitting on the nightstand, along with the ring and the chain. He would need to figure out how to get those to her.

In the meantime, he would lie down on the bed a little longer. He needed to clear his head. The night had been more than he could have hoped for, and he didn't know how he could focus on anything today. He would have to try for the sake of talking to Inga’s parents. As he laid back on the covers, staring up at the ceiling, images from the night before earlier flashed in his mind. He grabbed his notebook and pencil and started studying the moldings on the corners of the ceiling. They were fascinating wood carvings, and drawing them was going to require intense concentration. He proceeded to fill several pages with detailed sketches of the ceiling and the furniture, and the window trimmings.

***

Kristoff had woken up when the clock tower struck eight, which was later than he usually slept. The party had gone on through much of the night, so he ended up sleeping in. Still, someone would need to let the reindeer out of the stables for some morning exercise, and he preferred to do it himself. Outside the stables, he heard some commotion, and an all too familiar smell was wafting in.

“Hello!” he shouted, hoping whoever it was would say something.

The stable hand ran to the door. “You two, don’t you know you can’t smoke here?” he shouted. Kristoff walked toward the door, hoping his appearance would provide some backup against whichever idiot visitors had decided that the stables were in any way a sensible place to take a smoking break.

“Sorry, sorry! We won’t smoke, we just were looking for a quiet place to take a break!” the young man said. His companion looked like he would try to light up a cigarette the minute they were alone again.

“Fine, but don’t think we won’t notice,” the stable hand reminded them. “Remember, that’s dangerous with all this straw around. We’re not just being killjoys.”

Kristoff stood back and let him come back inside to tend to the horses. “Idiots,” Kristoff mumbled, and the young man gave an exasperated smile back and rolled his eyes.

Kirstoff stayed by the door for another minute to see if the young men would try to light up their cigarettes after the warning they had just gotten.

“So, you and that chambermaid?” the one nudged the other.

“Nothing that interesting. She's pretty, but a bit of a gossip, to be honest. There’s better girls back in Bergen, if you ask me.”

“What kind of gossip?” the first one asked with a chuckle. “I heard someone say they’d pay good money for stories from royalty.”

“Ohhh… well then, you know the prince visiting from Corona?” the second one hinted.

“Yes, of course,” his friend scoffed.

“Seems, according to my laundry girl, he had one of the noble girls from the countryside in his bed last night.”

“You don’t say… how’d she hear this?”

“She was up in the guest wing during the party last night, and said she saw the girl going into his room with her own eyes.”

“Really? I thought it was him and, you know…” the friend told the other young man.

“He’s a prince. When does that stop them? Besides, the prince asked her for the first dance, you know, instead of the princess, and later someone saw them running off to the garden.”

“You don’t say… that is interesting,” the one nodded, starting to light up his cigarette.

Kristoff stepped out. “Didn’t someone tell you not to smoke here?” he growled. “Go into town if that’s what you want to do, but not here!”

The two ran off, and Kristoff tried to calm down as he went back to finish letting the reindeer out. He reminded himself that there was some kind of misunderstanding, but he needed to speak with Anna, even if she was with her sister right now. Perhaps it would be better if Elsa was there.

***

“Your Highness,” James said as he returned to Prince Henry’s room, “I hope I’m not… interrupting.”

Henry looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Your Highness,” James began, appearing to be carefully selecting each word before speaking. “I apologize for intruding this morning. I promise not a word will leave my lips.”

Henry swallowed. “It’s… it’s fine… but… I… I’m not entirely sure I understand. Who else would even know?”

“I heard some talk in the laundry room. I’m not sure who or what they exactly saw, but I’m fairly certain that it is linked to you.”

“So, James, what did you see?”

“That doesn’t matter.” James walked over to the bedside table and straightened out the picture and the chain with the ring. “But please remember, I may be discreet, but I’m not blind.”

“I swear…” Henry began, not sure what he could say.

“Your parents have asked me to keep an eye on you.”

“Yes,” Henry sighed. “And I’ll be writing to them later today to let them know what the wedding plans are.”

“I hope that happens soon,” James told him.

#frozen fanfic #kristanna #prince of two realms #OC fanfic #OC Inga #1865

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sharperthewriter · 1 month

Text

Chapter 26 of Roneo and Kimliet

Chapter 26

(Feb 14, 2006. 5:30pm)

The students all got off the stage and walked up to the Glee Three and Amanda, whom was the assistant director.

Kim glared at Amanda for taking her position but did not say a word about it.

"So how did we do?" Zita asked.

Vance replied, "Middling at best. I'd give it a B...barely."

"We want you to get an A+, sheer perfection!" Laramie insisted.

"Even with all the...changes..." Cara muttered, referring to the changes made by the MUSD to make it more suitable to perform and the moving of the play to the main auditorium due to the bug problems.

"Remember..." Vance added, "...this is with the scripts. By the end of next week, you will be starting to perform the play without them! Study those lines! Study them well!"

"Tomorrow..." Laramie boomed, "...we are going to finish Act I! This includes Scenes 4 and 5!"

Kim gulped hard. She needed that one-on-one talk with Monique...and fast!

Thinking quickly, Kim got out her flip phone from her overall pocket and typed in a text to Monique.

Meet me at my room at 7pm after dinner. Come alone.

Amanda then got a text from Bonnie. She rushed to Ashley A.

"Hey, you gotta check this out, AA!" Amanda whispered, "MC Honey and Britina are going to drop a duet tonight!"

"Ooooh! That sounds fetch!" Ashley A replied silently, "I'll get the other girls."

(5:58pm)

Kim managed to make it back home from school via a scooter ride from Ron, although a slow one because his model was nearly 20 years old.

"Hey, Mom! I'm home!" she called out.

"Hey, Kim. I'm making spaghetti tonight!" Ann replied from the kitchen.

"Spankin'! I should be down in about 10 minutes!" Kim replied. "I've also invited Monique and Ron on over."

"Good thing I made extra tonight!" Ann exclaimed. "Along with the garlic bread.

(6:16pm)

The Possible family, along with Monique, Ron and Rufus, all were seated at the table. The only change, outfit-wise, was Kim unclipping the left strap of her overalls and leaving the right strap hooked.

And for dinner tonight, it was spaghetti with extra garlic bread for their two guests.

"So, Kimberly, how was Romeo and Juliet practice for tonight?" Ann asked while taking a bite of the spaghetti made from her famed meatloaf.

"The first three scenes went spankin'. I only managed a few lines in Scene Three while Ron had his in Scene Two with Felix." Kim explained. She did not mention the part where she blushed about marriage in Scene Three with Zita. "The play is actually going to move to the larger Middleton High auditorium where there are more seats in the house."

"Girl got it goin' on as Juliet!" Monique exclaimed.

"I take it that is good, right?" James asked.

"Yeah, so far...so good!" Kim replied with a bit of nervousness. She wanted to get to the one-on-one girl talk with Monique.

Rufus, meanwhile, was slurping on the spaghetti noodles.

(6:31pm)

After finishing off the spaghetti without a word and without the Tweebs interrupting dinner, Ron then spoke up.

"KP, we're gonna be in the zone tomorrow for Scenes Four and Five!" he exclaimed while holding his script around. "You and I are gonna work together!"

Kim's nervousness shot up.

"Yeah, Ron!" she gave a half-giggle before whispering in Monique's ear.

"Monique...now would be the perfect time."

"Got it, baby girl!"

Kim then turned to Ann and James and asked, while trying to throw a shield around Ron for the real reason why Monique was here. "Mom, Dad. May I and Monique be excused from the table? I may need some help to practice my lines for Scenes Four and Five."

"Sure thing, girls. Just be sure to clean off your plates first and put them in the dishwasher." Ann insisted.

"But what about me?" Ron asked.

"Yeah?" Rufus

"Sorry, Ron." Kim sighed, "Maybe we can practice on Act Two this weekend?"

Ron's smile faded from him.

"That...well...can work, KP..."

(6:40pm) Kim and Monique went up the stairs to Kim's bedroom. Monique took off her cowboy boots and sat at the computer chair. Kim also activated a more recently-added feature to her room: a metal sliding door that slides from the floor on the top of the staircase.

"You got the high-tech thing goin' on, Kim!" Monique exclaimed.

"Wade thought of the idea himself." Kim said while applying the security code to the door, "It's to prevent the Tweebs from coming into my room and it's for maximum privacy."

Kim then tucked in the undone strap of her overalls. Monique unzipped her heeled boots and put them to the side.

"I wouldn't blame you with those two runnin' around!" Monique muttered. "So, now that your girl's here, and Bonnie's wenches aren't here, what do you wanna talk about?"

"The whole Ron thing." came Kim's reply as she laid down on top of the bed.

"Ron? Really?" Monique asked, surprised, "You two have been tight since Pre-K!"

"I know that he and I have been good friends but something has come up ever since the Moodulator incident a few months ago at the Middleton Days Festival." Kim explained, "It seems that I've been getting more defensive of him."

"Are you talkin' about protecting-him-from-Bonnie's-insults defensive or jelly-when-Yori-came defensive?" Monique asked, wondering where Kim was going with this. She knew about the incident last October when Yori came to Middleton High to get Ron to save Sensei from what he thought was Monkey Fist.

"The latter, Monique." Kim debated, "It seems that whenever another girl comes even near Ron, I get all high-horse on that girl to leave Ron alone."

"I gotta ask..." the redhead then added, "...is there more to it than just my friendship with Ron?"

"Girl, all I'm goin' to say is this: Look inside your heart and ask what it is tellin' you." Monique suggested.

Kim took a deep breath and said, "Yeah, I should try and do that. On the whole Romeo and Juliet sitch, though, the kisses I do with Ron are not official BF/GF kisses in any way, shape, or form. They will be for us to get a good grade on this play so that we can get one step closer to both our diplomas."

"Nothing more. Now...let's try and work on scenes 4 and 5."

(7:49pm, Rockwaller house)

Bonnie was painting her nails in her room, sitting on her chair. She went with the pink crop top and the Club Banana dark denim overalls with the left strap hooked and right strap off. She was waiting on any word from Amanda or Ashley A about Kim's performance.

The scheming brunette then heard her cell phone ring.

It was Ashley A.

Without hesitation, she picked up her cell phone.

"Hello, Rockwaller speaking!" Bonnie said in a sweet voice. "Do you have anything to report on Romeo and Juliet? Remember that you girls are my eyes and ears when I am not around!"

"I do." Ashley A replied, "We did the first three scenes of Act I."

"Duh, I know that from Amanda!" Bonnie sighed, rolling her eyes, "What I meant to clarify is that do you have anything to report on Possible from the first three scenes."

"To be fair, she didn't have many lines...but...she did blush quite a bit when Flores as Lady Capulet mentioned marriage."

Bonnie grinned a bit upon hearing this.

"Good...but remember, this is only the appetizer to the five-course dinner that will be Possible and Stoppable's utter humiliation!"

"Understood. We're going to do Scenes 4 and 5 tomorrow..." Ashley A snickered, "...and you know that Scene 5 is the one that they're going to lock lips!"

"Yes! Remember that I want you and Amanda to continue what you are doing...and to continue the Glee Three and Drama clubs to uphold their end of the deal if they are to receive any 'protection' from any wedgies from the football and girl's powerlifting teams." Bonnie insisted while taking out a few twenty-dollar bills from her dresser, more than likely money from the Flagg family.

However, she changed the subject to the other thing that has attracted her interest over the past 24 hours.

"You also got my text message on the MC Honey-Britina collab?" Bonnie asked.

"Sure did!" came Ashley A's reply.

"Remember, we gotta take down notes on what they are wearing so that we can co-ordinate for tomorrow!" Bonnie insisted.

"I'm getting my pad ready!" Ashley A insisted.

#kim possible #ron stoppable #fanfiction #bonnie rockwaller #rufus #chapter 26 #roneo and kimliet

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