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BTS Scenario | Daddy Dom

A/N: Hi guys! It’s Admin Sunshine, thank you for supporting me. I’ll be re-posting my reactions & scenarios on my blog.

PS: All of my reactions/scenarios and fictions will be fixed and there will be new things added in.

Aftercare is not included.

Not requested.

Warnings: Smut


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The Wolf (Part 1)

A.N: Okay so here is the first real part of The Wolf! It ended up being a little longer than expected but not by that much so it should be okay! I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: The team try to track you down.

Warnings: Language (when is there not?), Strip Murder (What kind of warning is that anyway!) 

Words: 2297

Originally posted by fanfic-shiz

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anonymous asked:

If you can, I’d like to request an imagine where the reader is best friends with Bill but she just recently started hanging out with the losers. Her and Bill become close back when they where younger because the reader also has a stuttering problem but it’s not as bad as Bill’s. But whenever Stan is around it gets bad only because Stan makes her nervous and the losers all notice encouraging her to tell him? 💘 Thank you love! 💘

Oooo! I love this idea!

Pairing- Stan x Reader

Warnings- Language (As always), fluff

Stuttering. What might seem innocent from the outside, as a small speech impediment that’s casual and cute, is a pain in the ass when you have a crush. Luckily, having someone who can understand the struggle makes it 10 times better.

Y/n and Bill were always close, both physically and mentally. Y/n never really had a place to stay, so at a young age when her parents kicked her out, small stuttering Bill came to the rescue. He invited her over, gave her a life that she may have never had. Even his parents accepted her, she was family.

Now, of course, having family problems gave her many issues. One of them being a stutter. It was nowhere near as prominent as Billy’s, but it was there. She usually had it under control, when she was around her closest friends. But when Bill had over who he called ‘The Loser’s Club’ to discuss Georgie, it all went south.

“Y/n, m-meet Richie, E-Eddie, S-S-Stan, Bev, a-a-and Ben. R-R-Richie, Eddie, Stan, B-Bev, and B-Ben, m-m-meet Y/n.” Bill stuttered as he shows Y/n to the living room. She wasn’t like most others, wearing a pair of old overalls and a white t-shirt. But, goddamn, she was gorgeous. 

“H-Hello there” She greets shyly, her eyes meeting a blonde, curly-haired boy. Stan.

“Hey~”

“Waddup, hot stuff!”

“Richie can you ever just be fucking normal?”

“Nope, especially not around a hottie like yourself-”

“ALRIGHT”

A small giggle is heard from Y/n and Bev as her eyes are moved to Bill. “So t-this is who you h-h-hang out w-with.?” She teases the brother-like figure.

“Y-Y-Yep, surprising.” He chuckles as well, the permanent sad tone to his voice almost dissipating around the rest.

Y/n was easily welcomed into the group of seven -eight with her in it- as she also had to deal with the terrorizing Bowers and the fucking clown. But there was always something different when she was with them.

Stan.

He had those curly locks, the look of saddish-happy tracing every small feature. It just made her gush. It almost seemed silly to the rest, especially Bill, but whenever she was around Stan, she stuttered more and more.

Bill, one day, had almost the entire group around, wanting to discuss this.

“Y-y/n, we a-all know y-y-you have a c-c-crush.” He speaks, causing the rest of the people around to shush their giggling. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty obvious.” The trashmouth mumbles, Eddie’s hand slapping his shoulder,

“W-whatd’ya mean..?” She tried to play off the obvious blush on her cheeks. 

“Stan? Ring a bell? You stuttering almost worse than the man known as stuttering Bill?” Beverly speaks up with a sly smirk. Y/n’s face becomes a slightly deeper red, just from his name.

“Aw, look, she does have a cruuuush~” Richie teases. “Just tell ‘im!”

“I-I-I can’t just-”

“Oh yes you can.” Mike says. “Or we’ll tell him.”

“What-” Y/n was quite flustered at how quickly the conversation elevated. “C’mon g-guys, why do I-I have to tell h-h-him?”

Bill smiles slightly. “Because I-I-It’ll be cuuuute~” He chuckles.

“What d-do I get if I t-tell him?”

“Stan.”

Today was the day. Stan and Y/n had planned to just.. Get food and watch movies. Take-out at Bill’s place. It was the stuttering boy himself who had told Stan to ask her, and even he seemed nervous. He may or may not have liked Y/n as well.

“Do I-I look alright?” Y/n asks Bill, as she wore crimson pair of overalls and long-sleeved black shirt. She usually didn’t wear different colors than blue and white, but today was special.

“Y-you look g-g-great, Y/n.” He chuckles softly, handing her a small tube of run-down looking mascara. “Y-you always d-do.”

She smiles and laughs. “Thanks, Bill.”

As she sets down the small bottle of makeup, the sound of the doorbell rang through the house. Stan.

“You r-ready?”

“Yeah, I-I think s-so.” She smiles and hugs her brotherly friend. “T-thanks again, Bill.”

They release each other, and the shorter girl rushes from their bedroom to open the door, the noodle-haired boy smiling. “Hey, Y/n!” He greets happily.

She smiles back, moving out of the way to let Stan through the door. “H-hey Stan! T-the pizza should b-be here s-s-soon. Wanna get s-set up?” She stutters, her eyes meeting his.

“Sure!” Stan’s smile never left. “Oh, I almost forgot. I-uh-I forgot to give this to you. You-uh- l-left it at the quarry.” He was holding a small jacket, handing it to her and attempting to touch her hand.

Y/n takes it and blushes slightly. “Thanks, S-stan, I t-though I l-l-lost it.” She hums as the two move to the couch, where she had set up two blankets and a horror movie. 

“Hey, before this starts, I-I wanna tell you somethin’.” Stan turns towards Y/n, who blushed more as he grabs her hand.

“U-uh, m-me t-t-too..” Her stutter was prominent as ever. “Y-you first-”

“I really like you.” He rushes out, closing his eyes as a bright red takes on his face.

“Really? T-that’s.. I-I was g-gonna s-s-say that..”

“Oh thank the lord.”

Stan’s arms wrap around Y/n, pulling her into a hug. She instantly hugs back, her eyes looking up to see Bill. He was at the top of the stairs, smiling and giving her the okay symbol.

She did it.

___

A/n- I hope this is good enough for you! I really like the turnout, so tell me whatcha think!

7

H’OKAY. SO. Last night we saw Dave Malloy as Pierre!! :D

We’d been planning this trip since they announced he was doing a series of shows–we knew we had to see him but we needed to make it work with timing and vacation days and stuff like that, so we ended up tagging this trip onto the front of my trip to Charlotte later this week, which inadvertently made it the first show after the Tonys, which we won’t talk about because I think I’ve made my saltiness on that front PRETTY CLEAR so far. With things working out the way they did, we decided that we should get a gift for Malloy to acknowledge how much this show has meant to us and that he won all the Tonys in our hearts. Initially I thought a plant was a good idea because flowers die and are also awkward to carry around. From there, my brain thought: well, we should put it in a box so he can just throw it in his bag. We should decorate the box. We should decorate the box to look like the theatre.

(At queer speed dating the other night, someone asked me which Parks and Rec character I most identify with. I said, “I feel like Ben Wyatt, but if you ask any of my friends, they’d say I’m Leslie Knope.”)

So, we decided all this on Monday night? So Tuesday was spent running around getting fabric and glue guns and putting all of this together. All of the little frames have pictures of members of the creative team. It’s PRETTY DARN CUTE, I’ve gotta say.

The entire day was a wild ride–we got the thing done just in time, then realized that my dad had taken my car keys with him so we were gonna miss the bus. Then he managed to get them to us in time for us to make the bus. Then the bus was stuck in traffic TWICE AS LONG AS USUAL. The florist was out of succulents and I had to run all over to find one. Literally run. I ran. With my legs and my lungs and stuff. It was the worst. But I managed to get to the theatre at 6:55 and use the rest room and get into my seat and chug a smoothie.

AND THEN THE SHOW STARTED!

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Fic: “Communications”

This is a sequel to my fic “Signs,” which I would suggest reading first–it is here–but if you want to jump in here you should know that this is a Martha’s Vineyard Sign Language AU set in the early nineteenth century.  In this installment, after a broken arm lands him in the hospital, Mulder meets a nurse who knows sign language and perhaps can help him on his quest to find his sister. Rated G and also here on Ao3.

…..

Maybe there are worse injuries, but a broken left arm is certainly up there.  The nurse was polite enough for the first few minutes, until she realized that he couldn’t hear anything she said, and then she got steadily more and more annoyed. At first she tried writing her questions down on a piece of paper, but when she pushed it towards him he couldn’t write any answers, of course, because his arm was broken.  He tried pointing at it with his right arm and grimacing, to indicate what the problem was, and she made an irritated face and stalked down the ward and came back with a doctor.  The doctor was clearly trying to ask him questions too, and again he couldn’t answer, and now the doctor looks annoyed too, which is frankly making him annoyed as well.  They’re acting as if he’s purposely trying to make things difficult for them, which he certainly isn’t, and after all he’s the one in pain here.  The doctor says something to the nurse, finally—again, he has no idea what—and then they both go out of the room, leaving him alone in his bed at the end of the ward.  He briefly wonders if they’ve just given him up.  They seem the kind of people who would do that.  

But the doctor comes back, eventually.  He has a nurse with him, but it’s not the same nurse. This nurse is a small woman, with red hair, and she smiles at him before she signs, Hello.  You’re deaf?

They’re not the same signs he habitually uses, not the ones from back home; they’re the new ones, the ones that started at the school where they were supposed to send him, where they sent Samantha instead. He’s learned some of them.  He wouldn’t call himself fluent, but right now he’s happy enough to see someone with whom he can communicate in any form, and this nurse seems like a godsend.  Yes.

She says something to the doctor, then turns back to him.  And you can’t write?  Her hands move slowly; he would guess she isn’t fluent either, and that, along with the talking to the doctor, suggests to him that she isn’t deaf. He wonders how she knows the signs.

I can, usually, it’s—  He’s so used to using his left hand that he doesn’t think, and he breaks off, wincing with the pain.  No, he really can’t imagine an injury he’d like less.  

Is it your arm?  Your left arm? the nurse asks, and when he nods she adds, Don’t try to use the bad one.  What happened?

It’s very hard to tell the story, when he’s confined to using only the one arm, and he can only hope she’s not as frustrated as he is, but he manages to get the key points across, through a combination of signs and general pantomime.  Running.  Slipped. Fell on it.

She confers with the doctor again, who comes forward to examine his arm, prodding it in a painful way.  He says something to the nurse, who nods.  It’s broken, she tells him, and he nods; he would have told them that from the beginning, if he could.  We—we—  She stops and says something to the doctor, who hands her the paper that the first nurse left.  She takes the paper and writes something down for him.  They’re going to set it, he reads, and it will be painful but it looks like a simple break and it shouldn’t take very long.

She’s honest, this nurse, in addition to her other helpful qualities.  She didn’t lie about the pain, and he grits his teeth against it, but she didn’t lie about the time either, and soon his arm is bound up.  She sits beside him through it, handing things to the doctor, at one point patting his other hand.  Almost there.

We’re done, she signs when the doctor is gathering up his instruments.  Can you sleep?  Should we something or other, he doesn’t know all of the signs she’s using.  He nods towards the paper, and she writes again, asking if he wants anything to help him sleep.

He doesn’t want to be given anything, doesn’t trust it, so he manages an approximation of No, I can sleep.  

She smiles.  Good.  Sleep well.

It’s hard to find a comfortable position, with his arm like this, and he lies awake for a long while, still convinced that this is the worst injury he could have suffered.  But if it had to happen, he supposes, he’s glad he ended up with this nurse.

 …

The nurse is back when he wakes up.  How do you feel?

Hurts, he manages.

That’s normal, she signs.  But you should go home later.

He nods.  Thank you for helping.  I was worried they were going to leave me to die here.

It’s still hard to do one-handed, and he has to use some signs from home, ones that she wouldn’t know, so he’s not surprised when she looks confused.  Sign again? she asks, but when he tries, experimentally, to include his left hand she leans over to stop him.  No. Rest it.  So he tries again with just his right hand, and she nods a few times but then shakes her head helplessly, and somehow that makes him laugh.

She laughs then too.  Sorry.  It must be hard.

He nods emphatically.  How long? he asks, keeping the question in a short form.

Until you heal? she asks, and when he nods again, she reaches for the paper. She writes that it’s a clean simple break, just in one place, so it should be relatively straightforward, but it should still take at least six weeks.  He doesn’t want to make trouble for her—it’s not as if she caused this—but he’s absolutely horrified.  He supposes he can’t help that showing in his face, because she looks sympathetic and pats his good hand again.  I know.  I’m sorry.  But it won’t be forever.  She looks like she might be about to sign something else, but then her hands still and she shakes her head and starts over.  What’s your name?

He spells it out for her—that’s easy enough to do one-handed, at least.  F-o-x M-u-l-d-e-r.  What’s yours?

She spells hers out too, her fingers forming the letters slowly.  D-a-n-a S-c-u-l-l-y.  She smiles.  It’s nice to meet you.

It’s nice to meet you too.

She probably has other patients to tend to, and he shouldn’t keep her, but they sit together for a while, trying to get their words across to each other.  It’s not always straightforward, but they make do.  He spells things out, when the signs require both hands or when she gives him one of her questioning looks; she spells too, or she writes her words down on the sheet of paper that lies between them.  Her script is neat and precise; everything about her seems to be that way.  She doesn’t act irritated, either, at the moments when they struggle to communicate: she just shakes her head, at him or at herself, and then they try again. He’s not used to that, not since he left Martha’s Vineyard.  Back there, it was ordinary enough to be deaf, and everyone knew the signs.  Here on the mainland, he often has to fight to be part of a conversation, and many people are like the doctor and the other nurse, acting as though he’s an inconvenience.  He tells himself that leaving the Vineyard was the right decision, which is true; he wasn’t going to find out anything more about what happened to Samantha there.  He tells himself that since it was the right decision, he can’t let the way people act bother him, and maybe that’s true too.  But this moment with Nurse Scully feels so natural—so much like old times—that he’s forced to admit to himself how much it does bother him, how much he misses that easy communication, that belonging.

Why do you know how to sign? he asks her.

My younger brother, she answers.  He’s deaf.  So we’ve always signed.  We used to have our own, that we made up in our family, and then I learned this, later. She smiles.  I don’t know all of your signs, though.

Some of them are different, he tells her.  I’m from Martha’s Vineyard.  A lot of people there are deaf.  We have our own system.

Oh, that’s right, she signs.  My brother told me.  He was at the school for the deaf in Hartford.  There were people from Martha’s Vineyard there.

The school.  It’s hard to think of it without a pang.  He still remembers the day so clearly—Samantha stepping onto the boat in the sunlight, heading off to school.  And he remembers the days that followed, of course, the way he waited for her promised letters.  It was never something they discussed, at home.  If it weren’t for the way that things grew colder there, for the way that, more and more often, everyone’s hands remained still, he might have believed that his parents had simply forgotten and that he was the only one who remembered that Samantha had ever been.  He remembered, too, his promise to her, the way he had told her that if she were unhappy, he would come and bring her home.  That’s the main reason he’s here now: to make good on his promise if there’s any hope of doing so.  To find out where she really went.  To follow up every clue until he gets somewhere.

It’s a long shot, but he figures he should ask. He’s pretty sure, at this point, that she was never at the school, and even if she was he might not learn anything here, but he’ll ask.  When was your brother there?

Right when it opened, she signs.  For a couple of years.  Why?  Were you there?  

No. But maybe he knew my sister. S-a-m-a-n-t-h-a, he spells: those letters, that name, he’s thought them over and over.  Could you ask him?  I’m not sure she was there, though.

She looks at him with a puzzled face.  I don’t understand.  Sign again?

So he spells that out too, that he’s n-o-t s-u-r-e.  There’s always a lot to explain when he tells people the story, and there’s even more that he can’t explain at all.

Her face is still confused.  That’s what I thought you meant. How can you not be sure?

She disappeared, he signs, and Nurse Scully watches him intently.  She went away for school, and she never came back.  

That’s terrible.  And he knows she means it, he can see it in her face.  You couldn’t…  She shakes her head.  No one knew anything?  Not at the school or…  She breaks off again.  I’m so sorry.  I don’t know what…

I don’t know, he signs.  I was only a boy myself, and no one told me anything. But now I’m trying to find her.

Do you think you can? she asks.  It’s been a long time.

I know, he signs.  But you see, I promised her.  Back when she left, I promised I’d come find her if she wasn’t happy.  And so… He breaks off now too.  There isn’t anything more he can tell her. That’s how things are.

She nods though, slowly.  I understand.  I’ll ask my brother.  I’ll write to him right away.  Here, tell me where you live, so I can send you his answer.

She writes his name down on the paper and then his address, as he spells it out for her.  Below it, she writes his sister’s name as well.  He studies the name, Samantha Mulder in this near stranger’s neat handwriting.  It’s not a lead, or even close to one.  Yet it somehow makes him feel better, less isolated, to know that he’s not the only one thinking about this search.

anonymous asked:

You can do What Would Do If Him Got Jealous with TaeYong Johnny Hansol Yuta Jeno Jaemin DongHyuck Kun WinWin Mark and Jaehyun?

hiii!! sorry, we only do 3 members at a time for this request. i hope its fine that i just do the first three :-)

johnny’s is here

taeyong :

  • oohhh boy are u guys ready for the actual cutest bby
  • like when he gets jealous he is sOO ObViOuS..,,, kind of like johnny!!
  • like you know his face when he’s kinda just neutral and chilling and like sometimes it looks angry but really he’s just neutral.. .
  • yeeee imagine that except just.. ,, soooo o o ooo pOuTy..
  • like every time he kinda just has this frown on his face that kinda a mixture of baby cute and at the same time you wanna laugh because,, .. 
  • lee taeyong!!!
  • you’re supposed to be bad at aegyo!!!!
  • what is this dirty lieee!!!!!!!!!!!111!!! 
  • like its honestly just the cutest thing and how are you supposed to keep a straight face when you see the love of your life literally revert back to a jealous 2 yr old lmaooo
  • like you’ll be chillin with ten and johnny, sippin on some bomb ass bubble tea while you wait for taeyong to finish practice…
  • and like c’mon,,, you know those two…, they’re literally so easy to be around and talk to that every time you guys are together it literally just turns into this laughing hysterical mess bcs literally you guys just joke about aNYtHiNg… 
  • an d like one time,, you waited an extra hour for taeyong to finish practice and the two kept you company bcs, hey, it can be boring waiting by yourself sometimes.. 
  • when taeyong saw you laughing so happily with the both of them he just felt sO BaD.,,,
  • ((ahem and lowkey jealous ahem))
  • like tonight was supposed to be romantic date night and he ruined it by having to stay late and he’s literally jsut jealous at the fact that they can make you laugh so effortlessly and that t h e y are the ones making you laugh and not him..,, 
  • like when you see him he’s literally just.., ,
  • :-(((
  • tldr ; honestly jealous bby taeyong is just pure at heart and you should cherish him bcs literally most of the time when he’s jealous he’s just mad that they’re making you laugh and not him… (tho i mean when people flirt with you that’s a diff story ;-)))

hansol :

  • oh boy this is a tough one… 
  • honestly i think hansol wouldn’t really be a jealous type??? 
  • like he literally has the aura of a prince lmao and i don’t think princes of his caliber get super jealous
  • cause like c’monn..,,,
  • let’s face it..,,
  • if you’re hansol what’s there to be jealous about
  • lIke HEs acTuAllY pErFecT?? 
  • i digress…
  • like i think if he’d ever be jealous it’d be like if some random person at your school kept flirting with you and like despite your efforts to tell them about your awesome bf they’d keep asking you to date them instead…
  • and like in this situation he’s not even hella mad more like annoyed??
  • so like one day he literally surprises you at school and he has this whole bouquet of flowers and it’s jsut
  • !!!!!
  • hansol!!!
  • what are you doing here!!!!
  • and with flowers!!!
  • and like the person flirting with u is literally watching the whole commotion 
  • ((i MEaN thE EnTiRe SchOOl iS ToO…))
  • and like he kind of just casts a glance in that person’s direction 
  • and lik e he kind of just lowkey asserts his dominance lMAO by giving this person the most UNCoMfOrtAbLE stare ever!!!!
  • and then he plays it off like its nothing and just gives the sweetest smile and just…,, 
  • “i wanted to do something sweet for you.”
  • lIke literally the wHOLE school just awwwwssssssss because
  • handsol!!!
  • the person quits flirting with you after that lmao
  • like literally jealous hansol is so chill and hella classy man
  • tldr ; if you’re ever gonna act jealous guys just become hansol the end problem solved no more jealousy ^^

yuta :

  • jrfbgkws fUddddd i love yuta
  • okay now thats out of the way!!
  • oh gosh i seriously think jealous yuta would act a lot like johnny LOL
  • like guys this would l i  t e r a l l y turn into a competition for him..,,
  • have you seen him in abnormal summit!!!!
  • like if someone was flirting with you at first he’d be like hella chill about it and the entire time his face would just be sOOOO calm and composed like..,,
  • yuta/??
  • are u rly okay with this?????
  • and like he’d let the guy try to make his move or whatever bcs he knows that you’re obviously a loyal s/o so like..,,
  • the boy is liTERally soooo carefree about it
  • but like at the same time.,, i feel like he’d try to show off so much LMAO
  • like if the guy keeps talking about say like politics with you yuta would keep chipping in and like everytime the person would get frustrated bcs ugghhh pls but out he’s trying to flirt
  • (maybe his flirting isn’t working bcs politics on a date is a no no  lmao)
  • but like nonon no no no no no no no
  • you’re his and his only okay???
  • and like you can tell too, bcs he’s not usually fond of skinship but when times like this happen his hands squeeze yours just a little bit more and he’s literally so stoic about 
  • but like i feel like at the same time,, the competing part for him is literally just him comparing himself to this person.,,,
  • like can this person provide better for you, are they handsomer than him, are they smarter than him, are they better for you thanhim… 
  • and like it took you a while but you figured out and like ever since then,, whenever people flirt with you you always make it a point to point out what an awesome bf you have and how you’re so happy with him
  • and he just.. he really appreciates this. 
  • tldr ; pls protect and treasure jealous bby yuta guys like he’s just snvkwndsafjbqef. 

a/n- I apologize for the wait. This one was in my ask box very early Monday morning… and I almost ignored it. The reason I write in Finn’s voice so much is because Rae’s is too much like my own. I wrote this and rewrote it and hated it and it feels so sloppy and disjointed. Forgive me, if this isn’t what you wanted but it comes from a very personal place (which if why, I suspect, it’s so sloppy.

Putting some TW warning out there before we begin: food talk and ED.

When you’re fat, food is your enemy.

Not just an enemy, Rae decides. A partner in crime. A side show act that people pay a nickel to see.

It’s the knowledge that people are watching you when you eat. Watching you stuff food into your already fat fucking face like you’re the grossiest, most fascinating thing on the TV. Rae realizes all of this when she’s 13 and catches a mn staring at her as she chews a mouthful of spaghetti. In a second, she sees what he sees- fat rolls, double chin, another heartattack waiting to happen. She puts down her fork and doesn’t finish her dinner (it will be years before she eats in public again).

It’s a bad lesson to learn, but Rae find out the the only acceptable way to be fat is to tell others you’re on a diet. Always on a diet even if you never lose a pound. If you can convince them you hate your body as much they do, they the thought of touching your own flesh repulses you, they’ll let your pass because at least you acknowledge that you’re disgusting.

She’s 14 and at Chloe’s and the thought of eating with her fit, trim family makes her skin crawl.

“I’m on a diet,” Rae tells Chloe’s mum who beams at her as if she has just discovered the cure for AIDS (this is the same woman who has slim 14 year old Chloe on a strict 1000 calorie diet).

It becomes part of her shame. At 15, Rae can’t eat in front of anyone, not even her mum. She picks and nibbles at dinner and binges on sweets when she’s alone. It’s not the people can’t clearly see she eats (anyone with eyes could take in her girth and guess that). It’s in her fat face and fat stomach and fat things but Rae will be damned if she’ll give anyone the entertainment of feeding the whale.

At the hospital, she meets Tix who hates to be watched, too. They get trays of food and never eat. Tix excercises the calories off that she might have inhaled and Rae inhales the sweets her mum sneaks her.

Things get better when she gets hom for a bit. Linda and Karim are never around so Rae is almost on a normal eating schedule. Then she starts dating Finn and it gets bad again. They spend loads of time together and her eating is off but it’s worse because Finn is always suggesting dinner. After the pub, after the cinema, after bowling. She anxious because she has to say no and every time she does, he nose crinkles like he doesn’t get it. If he ever sees her eating, it’s over. Whatever spell he’s under will lift the minute he sees he put something in her fat mouth.

She’s in a state when he suggests she tell her mum she’s going to Chloe’s for the weekend because he’s got an empty. She wanted to because the thought of Finn Nelson naked all weekend makes her hooha jump for joy and her thighs clench on their own but when she cools down a bit, she realizes it means not just sexy stuff but day-to-day stuff like eating (she also realizes the possibilty of him seeing her naked in a properly lit room but she can only process one crisis at a time).

“How long have you and Finn being dating, Rae?’ Kester asks at their session the same day. She was in a right state when she brough it up and now she regrets it.

"About 10 months.”

“10 months and he hadn’t seen you eat? You two don’t go to dinner? He doesn’t ask you to dinner?”

He did. After every fucking date. Rae’s exuses were plentiful… tired, headache, cramps, horny, let’s meet the gant, let’s go to basement, the pub, yours, mine, the back seat. “He does. I just say no.”

“10 months and-”

“Look,” she snaps. “Chloe hasn’t seen me eat since I was 14 and I haven’t a decent meal with my mum in the same amount of time. Let it go.”

She has a plan for the weekend. Lots of sex and sneaking away. It doesn’t work as well as she hopes because her mum and Karim have taken off, too, so there went any excuse for nipping home.

She avoids dinner on Friday by showing up late. Breakfast is skipped in favor of back to back blowjobs (Finn promptly passes out after the second) and she lets him finger her under the duvet to get through lunch but by 3 he’s starving. She is, too.

“Let’s see if the gang wants to go to the chippy?”

She shrugs, though about saying fuck it and let him she her naked but she’s got a routine down at the chippy. Order something small. Feed some of it to Finn, chuck a bit at Chop, unload the rest on Archie (the boys never understand why they’re so damn full when they leave). She’s half way though her routine, about to throw something at Chop, when Finn catches her hand. He doesn’t say anything, just looses her hand, fries falling back to her plate.

W-E-N-E-E-D-T-O-T-A-L-K.

Her face is flushed and her skin starts itching. W-H-Y-? But he doesn’t respond.

“Let’s head out, yeah?” Chop suggests.

“Nah, we gotta go,” Finn answers, grabbing Rae’s hand. He ignores Chop’s jeering and the ride home is silent. He heads to the kitchen, pointing to a chair for Rae to sit in at the kitchen table. He’s back a moment later, plopping a sandwich in front of her. “Eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” tumbles out her automatic response.

“You haven’t eaten at all today. In fact, you never eat, not that i’ve seen.”

Of course Finn Nelson, Mr. Fucking Observant himself would notice something everyone else in the universe was blind to. Rae turns her head from him and stays silent.

“Why?” is all he can manage.

“You’re overreacting.”

“Then eat.”

“No.”

“Then there is a problem.”

“There’s not.”

“Then just eat the damn sandwich.”

In a fit of anger she picks up the sandwich and takes a bite. She only manages two chews before she realizes he’s looking at her and her eyes well, throat closes. The next thing she’s fully aware of is the bitter taste of stomach acid as she heaves into the toliet. Finn’s crouched behind her, hand holding her hair back. When the heaves turn to sobs, he rests his forehead between her shoulder blades. She tries to explain her feeling but when words fail her, she spreads her arms as if to say Do you finally see? Do you finally get that I’m fat and mental and not good enough for you?

“Talk to me, Rae,” he pleads.

“I can’t.”

“You can. It’s me, Rae. It’s just me. You can tell me anything.”

She steps away from him, hands raised to stop him from touching her. “You don’t get it Finn. I’m terrified that one day I’m going to say something… and it’s just going to be too much for you to handle.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You can’t make me leave or love you less. Not in a million years,” he slowly takes her hand, ready to let go if she jerks back because she looks wounded and hurt and he can feel little fissures start in his heart. He measures his words carefully and find nothing will come out. So he flips he hand over and very slowly traces out what he feels I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U.

“I’m-” Fat? Mental? “- a mess, Finn. A real one.”

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-R-M-E-S-S-Y-P-A-R-T-S-T-O-O.

She tries to shake him off but he doesn’t let go this time. “No, don’t. Don’t pull away from me, Rae. I love you. I love all of you even the parts you don’t.”

“I’m not good enough for you.” They both wince at the words.

Finn’s mouth opens and closes. He’s floundering. “You’re not serious. You can’t be. You… Rae, all I want is you and I sure as hell don’t deserve you. I have problems, too and you overlook them, don’t you?”

“What problems?” She demands.

“I’m closed off, for one. Grumpy. I act like an ass to people I don’t know. And I spend 98% of my time writing things on your skin instead of telling you the things that you obviously need to hear. I fucking love you, Rachel. Every bit. There’s nothing about you I don’t want.”

“But…” she shifts under his stare. “I love all those things about you. Even you being grumpy.”

He searches her face, his fingers tracing over palm G-E-T-I-T?

She supposed she was starting to understand.

He leaves her alone as she washes her face and brushes her teeth. When she gets downstairs, there’s a new sandwich on the table. She stops short.

“Listen,” Finn shruggs his jacket on. “I"m going to nip down to the store and grab some more drinks. Can you throw that away for me?”

He’s out the door and Rae is bursting around the seams with love. When he gets back, the sandwich is gone and he doesn’t ask if he ate it or threw it away.

(It will be a few more months before they share a meal. It will be in Kester’s office and she’ll sit between Finn and Kester and cry the entire time. One day, though, Finn will come home and dinner is on the table and they eat together and she won’t cry but he’ll have to slip off to the loo, turn on the faucet and cry himself.)

a/n- I try to read over and catch little mistakes… but I can’t read this again, so sorry. I’m going to go lay in a corner now.

@geronimotimelord || starter call

     She likes the name she has right now the most. Her name in this life (Autumn Abigail Brooke), and out of all the names she had BEFORE she finds it to be the prettiest. Every life before this one – every e c h o – had some part of her full name, but they never fit as PERFECTLY as they do now. Autumn McAlfie, Brooke, Abigail Brooke, Autumn Abbey were all f i n e, but AUTUMN ABIGAIL BROOKE is by far her favorite.

     Of course, the doctors try to tell her that it is the o n l y name she has ever had. That she never had the name McAlfie or Abbey. That this is the only LIFE she has ever had. That she was never a housewife in the 1780s or a beggar in the streets of England. But, when not d r u g g e d up (Autumn HATES the medicine they give her. While it gives her peace and quiet from the voices and memories of the other echoes for some time, it takes away almost all of her energy, and all she does is quietly lie in her room the whole day), she VEHEMENTLY opposes them. Yes, all those lives were real. She has lived hundreds of lives and they are all s t u c k in her head. And how does she respond when they ask why (why they are trapped in her head)? A L I E N S.

     Nobody ever visits Autumn. Even the orderlies have noticed. Her own parents (who the doctors have deemed as the cause of Autumn’s schizophrenia) have never o n c e shown up or even sent a letter, and Autumn doesn’t have any friends. And what is even more DEPRESSING in the minds of the hospital staff is that Autumn keeps i n s i s t i n g that someone is going to come. The Doctor. She keeps asking for him (and gets obviously irritated when they send in the actual doctor), and despite him not showing up yet, she continues promising that he will. That he’ll SAVE her. That he LOVES her.

     So it comes as a surprise to e v e r y o n e when someone says they are there to speak with Autumn. While they have never heard of this ‘John Smith’ before, he has all the correct papers with him, and soon he is being told that as soon as one of the orderlies informs Autumn of her visitor he will be allowed to go up to her room and see her.

     Despite hearing the door open, Autumn does nothing in acknowledgment, instead continuing to mumble under her breathe as she often does. On the bed, her legs are pulled up and she has her face partially hidden behind her knees. A few moments of s i l e n c e pass, Autumn only speaking when the orderly tells her she has a visitor.

      Is it the Doctor?

     Her voice is HOARSE and her words are quiet. She doesn’t usually talk to people; usually just chooses muteness when questioned or spoken to. It’s that under-use (as well as DEHYDRATION as she often f o r g e t s to drink water) that makes her voice sound so shaky. So sad.

     No, no. The visitor isn’t the Doctor. The orderly is quick to inform her on that, not wanting her to get her hopes up. He then watches as Autumn goes back to mumbling to herself, clearly u n i n t e r e s t e d, him leaving the room and telling JOHN SMITH that he can go try to speak with her.