#(I already lost track so I have to do an extra assignment)

[boneless-mika]

I fucking hate the like autistic thing where I can’t be productive if I have a specific time I need to do something because whenever I have an afternoon lecture it just ruins my day. I’d love to get ahead on the fucking mountain of assignments in my sociolinguistics course alas I have a lecture 12-14 in sociolinguistics (funny sociolinguistics is keeping me from studying sociolinguistics)

This means even if I do nothing else in the city I won’t be home until 15:30 at the earliest and then I’ll have dinner because with a lecture starting at 12 I don’t have time for lunch so I’ll want to eat as soon as possible and after dinner I don’t have any energy left (I generally don’t have any energy in the afternoon)

[newtthetranswriter]

Could I request kuroo(haikyuu) x male reader where the reader is in the chess club and Kuroo is hopelessly in love with him and starts learning chess to have something in common with the reader who is awkward and standoffish but with every game karoo challenges him to they fall more and more in love

Love is a Chess Game

Word count: 2762

Paring: Tetsuro Kuroo x male! Reader

Summary: Kuroo has always been fascinated by Y/n, after learning that he was in the chess club, Kuroo sets out to try and learn more about his closed off crush.

A/n: Thank you so much for requesting. I’m sorry it took so long to get this out but I promise I made it the best I could. I hope you enjoy and have a happy pride month. And as alway remember to hydrate or diedrate. 

    It wasn’t common for Kuroo to be late for practice, he is the captain after all. But this time he had a question for his teacher about an assignment and so he didn’t leave when the bell rang. Having never been in the main building of the school after school was out, he never paid much attention to what other clubs meet after school and where. So imagine his surprise when he spots the guy he’s been crushing on, walking to one of the empty classrooms. 

    Curious as to what Y/n could be doing, Kuroo decided that since he was already late for practice, what's a couple extra minutes. So he, too, approached the classroom. Getting closer to the door he heard the unmistakable sounds of people talking and realized the room wasn’t actually empty. Without being seen, or so he thought, he poked his head through the small opening, observing what was happening. Quickly Kuroo realized that it was a meeting for the school's Chess club. 

    After his eyes took in the numerous chess boards set up, they were drawn to the person who unknowingly lured the Middle blocker to the room. There Y/n stood talking with one of his clubmates. Kuroo couldn’t help but stare at the unsuspecting boy, completely in awe. This was the first time Kuroo had seen Y/n talking openly with anyone, he normally sits away from people looking like he couldn’t care less about those around him. But here he was chatting and laughing like it was completely normal.

   Kuroo probably would have stood there for hours watching his crush, but sadly an obnoxious ringing came from his pocket. He quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket, jumping away from the door hoping not to get caught. “What’s up?” He asked the person on the other end, not bothering to see who is calling him.

   “Where are you? Practice was supposed to start twenty minutes ago.” Surprisingly it was Kenma. 

   Checking the time he let out a sigh. “Shit sorry, got held up asking a teacher a few questions and lost track of time. I'll be there shortly.” He answered quickly. As he hung up the phone he didn’t fail to notice the grumbles in the background from presumably Yaku. Putting his phone back in his pocket he made up his mind. First he was going to go to practice so as to not incur the wrath of either Kenma or Yaku as he did not want to deal with either parties bitching. Second, he was going to spend as much of his free time as possible learning to play chess.

   After about two weeks of spending any moment not at school or practice, learning how to play chess, Kuroo decided it was time to put his new knowledge to the test. So he approached Y/n on their lunch break. 

   “Hey, Y//n I wanted to ask if you would be willing to play a game of chess with me?” He asked the quiet boy.

   Not even looking up from his food Y/n responded. “Why?” It was a simple one word response, but the tone of voice said he would rather do anything else.

   Kuroo was not expecting that, but being the quick thinker he is, recovered from his shock before speaking again. “I noticed you enjoy chess, and thought maybe you would like to play against a new opponent. Playing the same people over and over probably gets boring.” He hoped his explanation made sense, and didn’t make him sound like a fool. “And to make it more interesting we can make a bet out of it. Winner can ask the loser one question and the loser has to answer honestly.” Thinking one the spot, Kuroo silently wished that the friendly wager would entice Y/n into agreeing.

   After a moment of silence Y/n nodded. “Fine I’ll play, but not right now come by the Chess club after school we’ll do this.” With that he turned back to his food ignoring the massive grin that spread across Kuroo’s face.

  Walking back to his seat, Kuroo quickly texted the team’s group chat saying something came up and so he would likely be late to practice so they should just start without him. Of course he was met with a series of questions ranging from Lev asking innocently why, to Kenma telling him a date isn’t a reason to be late for practice if he can’t miss practice for a new video game. Kenma’s message was then met with even more confused questions. Deciding that he was done with the idiot squad Kuroo turned his phone off and tried to calm his excitement, wanting to focus on school and not over think his plans for the afternoon.

   After the bell rang, Kuroo made his way to the room where the Chess club met, barely hiding his excitement. When he entered the room he was greeted by the stares of confused chess players, wondering why the boys volleyball captain was in the chess room. Noticing Y/n wasn’t there yet, He stood by the door awkwardly hoping he wouldn’t have to wait long.

   His prayers were answered because not even two minutes later, Y/n entered the room. At first he didn’t notice the athlete, but as he approached his clubmates he noticed them taking glances at the door like something was wrong. Looking at the door, couldn’t hide his shock as he made eye contact with the tall Middle blocker awkwardly standing by the door.

   Once Kuroo realized Y/n had showed up, he made his way over. “So Y//n you ready for our game?” He asked as he took a seat across the stoic chess player.

   Receiving confused questions from the other’s in the room as to why he was playing a round of chess with someone on the volleyball team, Y/n sighed. “Yes Kuroo, let me just set the board up. As for you, peanut gallery, he asked to play so I decided to indulge his request.” The player explained as he began placing chess pieces on the board in front of him.

   After the board was set, the match began. Even with Y/n being a gentleman and letting Kuroo take the first move, it only took him 37 moves to beat the middle blocker. It didn’t really surprise anyone in the room, after all Y/n was one of the best players in the club.

   Accepting his loss Kuroo, reminded Y/n of their wager. “So, what’s your question you want answered?” Kuroo asked, believing it would probably be something that would likely embarrass him like ‘what is the dumbest thing he’s ever done?’. But he was left, shocked by the response he got.

   “The only thing I want to know is why did you decide to learn how to play chess?” Y/n wasn't trying to be mean or make fun of Kuroo, he honestly wanted to know.

   Getting over his shock, Kuroo thought for a moment. He could A) tell the truth that he did it to get to know Y/n or B) lie and say he just thought it looked interesting. Deciding that if he wanted this to all turn out well, he would have to be honest so he went for. “Honestly, I wanted to get to know you and when I saw that you were part of the chess club I figured it was a good opportunity to start.” He was just being honest, but for some reason the confidence he had while speaking amazed Y/n.

   Taking a moment to fully understand why Kuroo made the choice, Y/n decided to play along with Kuroo’s idea. “Well, if you want to get to know me you’ll have to beat me in a game so you can ask me a question.” This took everyone in the room by surprise. The awkward and standoffish Y/n was actually offering to let someone get to know him. “So Kuroo, if you are up for it, next week we will have a rematch.”

   Kuroo thought for a second before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, it sounds like a plan.” After finishing his sentence, he felt his phone vibrate. Checking it, seeing a text from Yaku saying he was needed in the gym, Kuroo started to stand. “Well, it seems my own club is in need of their amazing captain so, I will see you around Y/n. And I will definitely be back next week for our rematch and I’m going to win.” finishing his sentence Kuroo closed the door to the room. Deciding to be slow about reaching the gym, for the soul purpose of quieting his giddy thoughts about getting to know Y/n more. 

The day before the rematch

   Kuroo had tried to tell the rest of the team that he would once again be late to practice,       without telling them why but a certain cat eyed setter decided to have some fun. “He’s going to play chess with his boyfriend.” Kenma announced to the group who was currently cleaning up the gym after practice.

   “He is not my boyfriend.” Kuroo said, trying to keep calm and not strangle the boy with two-toned hair.

   Yaku, not having a full understanding of what was happening, decided now was a great time to interrogate his friend. “So, the reason you showed up late to practice was to randomly play chess with some random guy? Am I understanding that correctly?” He asked, moving to stand next to Kenma.

   Before Kuroo could respond, Kenma responded more than happy to give his teammates ways to make fun of his best friend. “No, not some random guy. It was Y/n, he’s been in Kuroo’s class since middle school and he just now got the balls to talk to him.” While Kuroo wanted to argue and say Kenma had it wrong, he knew Kenma was telling the truth. After all he told Kenma all about his plan to learn to play chess and once he beats y/n in a game he’ll ask him out.

   “Anyway, I’m just letting you guys know so you don’t blow up my phone after two minutes of me not being here on time.” Kuroo said finishing up the last bit of cleaning that needed to be done for the night. He received a chorus of ‘yeah whatever’s and they all dropped the subject. Once they were sure the gym was clean they all headed home for the night.

   The next day like he promised Kuroo showed up at the Chess club ready for his rematch with Y/n. This time he waited outside not wanting to deal with the awkward stares of the other club members. After only a couple minutes he spotted y/n approaching the room.

   “Hello, Y/n how are you today?” He asked, hoping to start a conversation outside of their game.

   Y/n gave him a slight smile before covering it with his normal unreadable face. “I’m fine, but if you want to know more you have to beat me first.” He said, not missing the flash of shock across Kuroo’s face at how he was clearly making jokes at him. Y/n, then opened the door and usher Kuroo into the room. Taking a seat at the same table as last time Y/n began setting up for their game.

   Just like the week before Kuroo was unable to beat Y/n. “Since I stand victorious once again, it’s time for you to answer a question. Why do you want to get to know me? We’ve never really talked before so why now?” Y/n asked, not expecting much of an answer but figured he’d give it a try.

   Kuroo was startled by the question, but decided once again that if he wants to pursue anything with Y/n, he would have to be honest from the start. “I’ve admired you for a while. You always managed to get good grades since middle school and you never seem to let people get to you. I just wanted to know more about what makes you who you are.”

   It was now Y/n’s turn to be stunned. “Well that certainly wasn’t the answer I was expecting. Anyway, don't you have captain duties to get to, at your own club?” He asked the messy haired athlete. 

   Sighing, Kuroo stood up. Before leaving he turned to Y/n one last time for the day. “Same time next week, and this time I’ll be the one asking the question.” 

    Y/n had to quickly hide the stunned look on his face before nodding. Sure he had realized that Kuroo wasn’t the kind of guy to give up, but he wasn’t quite expecting such confidence from him. After Kuroo left, the Chess club went about business as usual. Well except their star player was getting lost in thought every time he wasn’t participating in a game.

Time skip to a month later

    After four more games Kuroo still hadn’t managed to beat Y/n in a single game of chess. But on the brightside the two had started interacting with each other outside of their now weekly chess matches. It wasn’t much but Y/n was letting Kuroo get to know him more without the caveat of winning a chess game. Knowing more about Y/n made Kuroo even more happy with his choice to learn chess.

    When it came time for their seventh game, it came to no one's surprise that Kuroo had shown up to the Chess club and set up the usual spot before Y/n even arrived. What did surprise everyone was the fact that Kuroo managed to get the upper hand. After a long back and forth Kuroo actually managed to beat Y/n for the first time. At first members of the chess club figured it had to be fluke and Y/n just made a mistake. But after going over the game in their heads, they quickly realized that Kuroo actually managed to outsmart the chess player.

   After over coming the shock of actually losing to Kuroo, Y/n raised his head looking to his opponent. “So Kurro, It seems it’s your turn to ask me a question.” Y/n prompted, expecting a question similar to ones he had asked in the past like ‘why play chess’ or ‘why did he agree to play chess against him?’ something like that. 

   There was just one thing Y/n seemed to forget he wasn’t playing chess against another chess player, he was playing against the captain of the Nekoma Volleyball team. This was a cunning and confident cat, Kuroo had been planning for this for weeks now. “Will you let me take you on a date?” It was straight to the point but Kuroo wanted to make it clear that he wanted to take Y/n on a date, not just them going and hanging out, but an actual date.’

   Everyone who was present in the room at that moment, froze. No one expected that to be the question Kuroo asked. After about a minute of silence though Kuroo’s confidence started to fade. As he was about to speak up and say it’s fine and that they can all just forget it happened, Y/n finally spoke. “I would love to go on a date with you Kuroo.” 

   It was Kuroo’s turn to freeze, of course this was the outcome he hoped for, but to actually hear it, his brain stopped working. Shaking the surprise from his mind, he couldn’t help but smile as he responded. “Great, I’ll text you the details and don’t worry about paying for anything. I asked you out so the first date is on me.” Y/n just chuckled and nodded in response. “Well, I guess I have to get to practice. Thank you for the game, and thank you for agreeing to go out with me.” Kuroo had to fight the urge to jump in excitement as he left the room. 

   Y/n on the other hand, now had to deal with the wave of questions his clubmates were now throwing at him. He wasn’t expecting that agreeing to a chess game with Volleyball player would lead to him going on a date with said volleyball player. But even if it was not the expected outcome, he was truly looking forward to it having grown to enjoy and look forward to spending time with the middle blocker.

[bengiyo]

The Trainee Ep 2 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Ryan applied to be an intern at a production company near his house to complete his work requirements for his degree. Ryan is a bit lost and unmotivated at this time, and so didn't even know what a production company does, or that he was interviewing to be an assistant director. He was assigned to Jane, who is clearly doing a huge amount of work at this company with no time to train interns, and had a pretty terrible first day when he messed up giving the other interns the full brief and they were late to deliver their work. He's considering quitting and going back to his family's print shop.

Ryan may feel useless, but he's tracking details in the family business.

EP 2: Important Role

Damn, I wanted Pie to give Ryan the crash course he needed.

Interesting that Jane seems to be the shot caller on organizing the production's time. They seem pretty screwed by this change order. Blaming Jane won't change the issues caused by the client.

Hey, a printing job. Ryan can do that.

Damn, Pie threw Ryan under the bus. He was already trying to solve the printer problem.

Jane was harsh, but I get being frustrated at having another problem dumped on him when they're trying to solve a major crunch.

Oh ho. A mention of the censorship board.

Damn, I feel for Jane. I get calls like this all the time for stuff that others could solve.

Why is Ryan using voices to relay info? Lol

I like Ryan volunteering to help by thinking about the uncle, but I'm terrified about how he'll screw this up somehow. He's not assertive enough yet to handle any kind of negotiation.

Aw, the motorcycle uncle would have probably been a decent dude to work with.

Oh no.....Ryan is getting scammed...

This is so frustrating because the guy passed.

Why is Pie bickering with this man when he's clearly handling his job.

Well well well. Jane doesn't steal credit.

HP jump scare.

Ryan is killing me with the voices, but I am enjoying this role for Sea.

Look at Ryan recognizing that Jane isn't a control freak perfectionist.

The scammer blocked Ryan. Welp.

Okay. I like Ryan going to the casting team first to check if there was a backup.

Damn, I like Jane a lot. He was so quick to correct Ryan about treating getting scammed as a major fuck up on his part, and made it clear Ryan should speak up when he needs guidance and clear instructions about never making payment decisions on his own.

Would you look at that. The technician Ryan called was able to be an extra.

Jane gave pretty solid praise here. Ryan didn't solve huge problems on his own, but he did help. That's often enough.

Wow, a present for me: Gun's midriff.

Looking forward to the mentor-mentee era.

Man, this show is good. I really like the characters. Everyone makes sense for where they are, and there's a lot of room for growth here. I've been in high stress work environments like this, so I feel for Jane. Now that he knows where Ryan is, we have a good starting line for them.

[legolasbadass]

Office Hours, Part 31

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague.

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 4.1k

Rating: E

A/N: Hi everyone! It feels like I blinked and suddenly I haven't updated this story in over 7 months, ooops 🙈 I moved abroad and went back to school in September to start a postgraduate degree, so I've had very little time to write over the past few months. I hope you can all forgive me and are still interested in Lorelei and Richard's story! If you are, I've tried to make this chapter extra special... 😈

Before I know it, the spring break is over, and I am drowning in emails, deadlines, and assignments to correct. Thankfully, however, the telltale signs of summer bloom across Oxford as the term unfolds. The air, once crisp, now carries a gentle warmth, accompanied by the hum of bees and the fragrance of blooming flowers along the banks of the River Cherwell, which beckons scholars and locals alike to punting excursions. Days lengthen, inviting late-night strolls through narrow cobblestone streets while the evening sky blends into hues of soft pastels. The fast-approaching exams threaten the leisurely atmosphere of the city,  but when I walk through the sunlit streets with Richard’s hand holding onto mine, I feel as though time stands still; there are no exams, no piles of unmarked essays on my desk, and Richard is here, and he is not leaving. Not now. Not ever. 

I try to be happy and excited for him—I am—but with each passing day, it becomes harder and harder to imagine being thousands of miles away from each other. But we have many things to look forward to; in a few days, we will officially be on summer holiday, and I will move in with Richard. That is what I need to focus on. His imminent departure looms over us, but it does not change the fact that we love each other and are determined to make this work. A year ago, I was offered a lecturer post at Exeter College. It was more than I had ever dreamed of, and I thought life could not get any better. Little did I know I would meet Richard and fall in love with him. The past few months have been a whirlwind, and it still surprises me how fast things have progressed between Richard and me—how quickly he has come to mean the world to me. The thought of losing him terrifies me, but we have been through so much already, so I have to believe that we can get through this next year. 

“Lorelei?” A knock and a familiar rumbling voice pull me back to the present moment.  

Richard stands in the doorway to my office, one hand resting against the aged wooden frame as he smiles at me. The unbuttoned collar of his white shirt draws my attention to his throat and the patch of hair peeking through. Just like the first time we met. 

“Hey,” I say with a smile. 

“Lost track of time?” 

“What?” 

“It’s half past four.” 

“Oh,” I breathe out as I glance at the time on my phone. “Sorry—I completely lost track of time, yeah. Hope you haven’t been waiting for me too long.” 

Richard shakes his head as I throw my laptop and notebooks into my bag, then rush to the door, but he blocks the way with his arm. “You alright?” 

“I’m fine,” I reply, smiling at the concern in his voice. “Just have a lot of things on my mind.” 

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and the tender look in his eyes tells me he is thinking of kissing me, but the hallways are busy with students and professors, all rejoicing at the end of the term. 

“Good or bad things?” he asks, his hand lingering on my jaw for a moment longer than it should in this environment. 

“A little bit of both,” I reply, but when he merely continues to watch me, I sigh. “There’s still so much to do before the move. I haven’t packed any of my clothes or anything from the kitchen—”

“Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you pack. Don’t worry about that.” I nod and offer him a grateful smile. Then he frowns. “That’s not what’s bothering you.” 

Sometimes, I wish he did not know me so well. “It’s just the move combined with research deadlines and all the exams I’ll have to correct in a few days,” I say, not wanting to bring up the true cause of my discomfort. I do not want him to feel guilty—he should be excited about this research opportunity, and he deserves nothing less than my unwavering support. “Have you gotten any news on that flat you were interested in?” I ask a few moments later as I lock the door to my office before walking towards the main staircase, trying to appear unphased. 

“Not yet, but it’s still early in Boston so maybe I’ll get some news later.” 

“Right,” I say with a smile, but it hits me all over again that we will not only be separated by an ocean but by time as well, and the thought of needing to wait hours for a text or call from him when he wakes up each day claws are my heart. 

“So I told Michael about Harvard’s offer.”

“How did he take it?” I ask, knowing this was difficult for him as they have been friends and colleagues for many years. 

“He took it well. I mean—it’s not like he could do anything if he didn’t like the idea of me leaving for a year; I’m allowed to take time off from teaching for research. That being said, he told me he was happy for me and that it would be great for the department and the college to have one of their professors working with a famous scholar like Stanley Griffin.” 

“Just as great as it is for Harvard to have one of their professors working with you, I imagine,” I say, looking up at him. 

Richard chuckles skeptically. “Lorelei, he’s Stanley Griffin.” He speaks the scholar's name almost as if he were talking about Shakespeare himself. “His anthologies are used in most English departments.” 

“Well, only one of you is a professor at what is arguably the most prestigious university in the world.” 

“I guess,” he replies with a sheepish smile that warms my heart. 

The sun burns bright in the sky above the dreaming spires, casting long shadows on the cobblestone beneath our feet as we walk through the main quadrangle toward Broad Street. All around us, students rejoice in their newfound freedom, lounging at cafes, iced coffees in hand, discussing summer plans while cyclists whizz by, their wheels clicking against the cobbled paths.

“I can’t believe it’s so warm and sunny today and we have to spend the whole evening indoors for the staff party,” I groan as I step into Richard’s car, throwing my bag on the backseat. 

“We don’t have to go,” he says, closing his door and buckling his seatbelt. 

“Of course we have to go.”

“Lorelei, these things tend to be really dull. They call it a party but it’s just a room full of tired academics who’d rather be at home or locked in their offices, and they serve ridiculous canapés that leave you starving at the end of the evening. Although, admittedly, there’s always an open bar.”

“Alright, then let’s stop and get burgers on the way and stay close to the bar for the duration of the not-so-party party.” Richard chuckles as he steers out of the parking spot. “Come on, our presence is expected. And it might be the last time you get to see some of our colleagues before you leave.” 

He does not say anything for a while, then he reaches out to squeeze my thigh, and I know he, too, is thinking of the long months of loneliness ahead. 

In an attempt to change his mind, I intertwine our fingers and smirk as I say, in a light, sing-songy voice, “I bought a new dress for the occasion that I think you’ll really like. It’s navy, and sleeveless—I just hope it’s not too short…” 

Richard shakes his head but fails to hide his smile. “I see what you’re trying to do, sweetheart.” As we stop at a red light, Richard notices my expression and sighs. “Alright, let’s go to the stupid party—but we’re not staying too late.” 

***

It took longer than expected to get ready at my flat. Despite agreeing to attend the event, Richard prevented me from getting dressed with languid kisses and lingering caresses, but eventually, we managed to tear ourselves from each other and leave. 

The city is submerged in the sun’s golden farewell to the day when Richard and I arrive at an imposing, Jacobean-style mansion near The Queen’s College, and as we walk through the tall wooden doors and into the main hall, I cannot help but gasp and look up at the ceiling high above us, causing Richard to chuckle. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, squeezing my hand as he leads me toward the grand staircase. 

I nod. “I think I’d prefer to just walk around the building instead of going to the party,” I begin playfully, but Richard shakes his head.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he says, letting go of my hand to hold my back and push me forward. “You practically dragged me to this thing so you better not leave me for even a second.” 

I bite back a smile. “What if I need to go to the loo?” 

Richard chuckles. “Okay, you’re not leaving me except to go to the loo.” 

The hubbub of conversation and clinking glasses fills the air as we step into the grand room lit by the setting sun and the soft glow of chandeliers hanging from the frescoed ceiling. I spot familiar faces in the crowd while we make our way to the bar, but most people I do not know, so I am grateful for Richard’s reassuring presence, and I already dread having to attend events like these without him next year. 

“So here we are,” Richard says dispassionately after we order drinks. “Now do you believe me for saying these things are boring?”

I shake my head in amusement, then bite my lips, suddenly feeling shy. 

“What is it, sweetheart? You’re blushing,” he points out with a curious smile. 

Hesitantly, I lean in and speak in a soft voice only he can hear. “Would it be less boring if I told you I’m not wearing knickers?” 

Richard laughs, but then he catches my eyes and gulps heavily. “Are you—you’re really not—?” 

I shake my head, slowly gaining confidence as his eyes darken. He laughs again, the sound deeper and hoarser, telling me exactly how he feels about my styling choice. 

 “This is a work event!” he playfully chastises me, and I giggle as he brings a hand to my back.

“Well, I just wanted to make sure this party wasn’t too dull for your tastes.” 

He smirks. “I now suspect I’ll be feeling unwell or tired rather soon and you’ll have to bring me home earlier than planned.” 

“Oh, yes? And how will we spend the rest of the evening once we’re back home?” I ask, feigning innocence. 

“Well, for starters, you’ll take off that lovely dress and bend over—” 

Heat rises up my neck, and I nearly choke on my drink when, just at that moment, someone calls out to us, forcing us to pull apart suddenly. 

“Richard, Lorelei!” Professor Bennett greets us with a kind smile. “I was beginning to wonder if maybe you wouldn’t be joining us.” 

Richard glances at me, a cheeky grin illuminating his slightly red face, before turning back to Professor Bennett. “Last-minute outfit crisis,” he replies teasingly, squeezing my waist. 

I shake my head, trying to ignore the tingling in my belly caused by his last words to me. 

“And this is what you landed on?” Professor Bennett says playfully as he looks Richard up and down, causing me to laugh.

“Well, not everyone has your fashion sense, Michael,” Richard responds with a chuckle.

“Maybe we should start being evaluated on that; that way, I might stand a chance against you and win the teaching award for once.” 

Smiling, I look up at Richard and then back at Professor Bennett. “Richard was voted favourite Professor again?” 

“He sure was!” he says, raising his glass to Richard. 

“How amazing!” I exclaim, momentarily resting my hand on Richard’s chest. “Congrats, love!”

Richard’s grateful smile is made all the more endearing by the faint blush blooming on his cheeks. 

“But don’t tell anyone—I haven’t sent out the official announcement yet.”

Professor Bennett then turns to greet a passing colleague, so I lean into Richard. “I know one person who for sure voted for you,” I whisper with a teasing smile, thinking of Jane Taylor and the stars in her eyes when she speaks to him. 

“Shut up,” he responds, though he fails to hide his smirk as he pinches my waist, causing me to giggle. 

“Hey, there you are!” Natasha’s familiar voice interrupts us, and I turn to see her squeezing her way around a couple of Ph.D. students. We all greet her, but then she notices Richard and seems to hesitate for a second before she says, “Apparently, congratulations are in order!” Richard smiles shyly. “Working with Stanley Griffin—that’s exciting!” 

“Yeah, it is,” Richard replies with a nod, though he momentarily tightens his hold on me.

  “I must say, thank God for you, Lorelei,” Professor Bennett begins, causing me to frown in curiosity, “under different circumstances, I’d be worried about losing Richard to Harvard forever, but I know as long as you’re in Oxford, he’ll be coming back,” he says with a fond smile. 

I chuckle, then try to come up with a playful response, but I cannot ignore the heaviness in my heart. How can I miss him already when he is still here, holding me tight?

Thankfully, Richard steps in. “Don’t worry, Michael, you won’t even get a chance to miss me. I’ll be coming back periodically to check in on my postgrad students—that sort of thing…” 

“Yes, sure. For the students, of course,” Professor Bennett says teasingly, and from the corner of my eyes, I notice Richard staring at me longingly, and heat rises to my cheeks. 

As they continue to joke around, Natasha catches my eye and gestures for me to follow her. I reassure Richard I will be right back, then step aside, concerned by the frown on her face. 

Once we are far enough from the others, she reached out to caress my arm and asks, “How are you feeling?” 

I gulp, suddenly understanding her previous hesitation. “I’m fine.”

She nods slowly, biting on her lower lip. “So he’s leaving for a year…” 

I nod, struggling to gather the strength to respond in words. 

“That must be really tough for you.” 

“Yeah, it is, but… we’ll make it work.” 

“So you guys aren’t—aren’t breaking up or anything, are you?” 

“Oh, no!” 

She lets out a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God! When I heard the news earlier today all I could think of was…” She trails off and laughs nervously. “You guys can make it work. I know you can.” 

I smile. “Yeah, I hope so.” Then my smile widens. “Actually, I’m moving in with him.” 

“Really?” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up in genuine happiness. 

“Yes! We want to make the most of the time we have together before he leaves, and this makes it a little easier to reassure ourselves that we’ll get through this together.” 

Natasha nods and squeezes my arm. “I’m so happy for you two!”

“Thanks,” I reply, grateful for her friendship. Then I notice Richard eyeing me from the bar, but before I can say anything, Natasha smiles in understanding. 

“Alright, go back to your man,” she teases. “I just really wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ll go see if I can find Sarah somewhere.” 

I give Natasha a quick hug before making my way back toward Richard, who is now conversing with two men I do not know. As soon as he notices me, he excuses himself from the conversation and, wrapping one arm around my waist, pulls me slightly to the side of the bar, away from prying ears.

“Everything okay?” he asks in concern.

“Yeah, Natasha just wanted to check in and make sure I was alright given… you know…”

Richard nods, then looks down at me with an exaggerated pout. “You left me alone when you said you wouldn’t.” 

“So needy,” I tease as I rest a hand against his solid chest, my fingers absently playing with the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. “You were talking with Michael so I figured you wouldn’t mind.” 

“Okay, new rule: when we’re at an event and you tell me you’re not wearing any knickers, you have to stay within arm’s reach.” 

I burst out laughing, though heat rises to my cheeks at his rumbled words. “Alright, I can abide by that rule.”

“You better.” He smirks before leaning in to kiss me. His lips are soft and warm against mine, sweetened by the wine he has sipped. I can feel passion simmering deep within him, and when I reluctantly pull away sometime later, all too aware of our surroundings, Richard groans quietly. He then takes one quick glance around the room before leaning in conspiringly. “I think we might be able to sneak out of here for a little bit,” he says in a quiet voice, then gulps, and I am momentarily distracted by the movement of his Adam’s apple. “You know, to explore the building like you wanted.” 

“Right. To explore the building,” I repeat, smiling innocently. He finishes his drink in one big gulp, then winks as he takes my hand to lead me out of the crowded room.

The sound of our shoes against the polished stone floor echoes through the long hallway as we search for a more private place to continue the evening, failing to contain our laughter as we try door after door, in vain. We have nearly reached the other end of the building when we finally stumble upon an unlocked door. We cast furtive glances around us to make sure we are alone before slipping inside what turns out to be a small reading room with bookshelf-lined walls and a few rows of desks, illuminated only by the lamposts in the street below. The sweet, earthy scent of aged paper and leather-bound tomes fills the air, but then Richard wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, laughter lingering in his eyes, and the familiar smell of his cologne surrounds me. I can still hear echoes of the party in the distance, but it all disappears when, with a soft smile, Richard leans in to rest his forehead against mine. One of his hands is now tangled in my hair, holding the back of my head and pulling me closer as we share our breath, lingering in this moment, allowing ourselves to pretend that the rest of the world does not exist. 

When he finally claims my lips in a hungry kiss, I let my eyes flutter close and, standing on my tiptoes, circle my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to me as I drown in his passionate embrace, content to pretend that my only worry is knowing we will eventually need to pull apart for air. We move against each other out of instinct, ignoring the time and place, fuelled by an evening of flirting and lingering touches and our impending separation. He lets go of my lips to trace a path along my jaw, down my neck toward that sensitive spot below my ear, and the warmth of his tongue combined with the rasp of his beard sends heat spiralling down my spine. My hands are now buried in his hair, tugging on the soft curls, and he groans into my neck before reconnecting our lips. 

Without breaking the kiss, he effortlessly lifts me into his strong arms and sets me on one of the desks, spreading my legs apart with his body. Already, I ache for him; heat swirls through me, buzzing incessantly between my legs, and when he squeezes my left thigh with one of his large hands, I cannot help but buck towards him and whimper, the desperate sound of desire echoing through the room. 

“Be quiet, sweetheart,” Richard murmurs against my lips, and a rush of arousal floods my core. 

As his hand slides higher up my thigh and slips under my dress, I cannot help but chuckle. “Are we really doing this?” 

Richard grins. “Don’t act innocent; you knew we’d end up in this situation the moment you decided not to wear knickers.” I giggle into the kiss at the deep, unbridled lust coating his words. “I can’t resist you.”

He pulls away just enough to watch my face as he teasingly slides two fingers over my folds, coating me in my arousal. Biting my lips, I wriggle on the desk to grant him better access, and when his fingertips brush against my clit, the whole room seems to pulse with the intensity of the pleasure tingling through me. Richard knows my body by heart now—he knows exactly where and how to touch me to have me panting in his arms in no time. He sets up a languid pace, alternating between drawing circles on my clit and slipping a long finger inside me, only allowing himself to increase the pace when I latch onto his shoulders, my hands pulling on his tweed blazer. My breath hitches in my throat when he slips two fingers inside me, crooking them and almost instantly finding the spot that has me arching my back and whimpering his name. My legs are now wrapped around him, my thighs pressing into him as he catches my mouth, taking the breath from my lungs and the moans from my lips. 

My release washes over me in a dizzying wave, pulsing through every fibre of my being, leaving me hot and panting as I cling to Richard while he continues to pleasure me, not stopping until I collapse in his arms. A car horn echoes in the distance, reminding me of our surroundings. Even so, as I look up to meet Richard’s lust-darkened eyes, desire flares in me again, and the warm weight of his hardness pressing into my inner thigh reassures me that this is far from over. Licking my lips, I raise a hand to teasingly caress him through his trousers, revelling in the whimper he fails to hold back. One of his hands returns to my hair, gently tugging as I slowly reach for his belt buckle—

The door creaks open. 

In an instant, Richard and I pull apart, and I hasten to tug my dress back in place and press my thighs together just as a security guard steps inside. His eyes flicker between Richard and me, his expression a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. 

“Er, sorry, guys—this room is supposed to be closed. You can’t be in here.” 

Too mortified to speak, I turn to Richard, and he smiles sheepishly at the security guard. “Apologies, we didn’t realize. I was just showing her around.” 

The security guard nods, then steps back to let us pass. My face burns as we mumble apologies, but he walks away as quickly as he first appeared, leaving us to stand awkwardly outside the reading room. 

“I guess we should stick to our offices,” Richard muses playfully.

My heart still hammering in my chest, I look up at Richard, biting my lip, but then my eyes drift down to the noticeable bulge in his trousers, and I burst out laughing. 

“That man certainly won’t be losing any sleep trying to decipher what you meant by ‘showing me around’,” I giggle. 

Richard looks down and tries, in vain, to adjust his trousers. “Do you think he noticed?” 

“Well, I hope for his sake he doesn’t make a habit of staring at strangers’ crotches. But if he does, then yeah, he definitely noticed.” 

“It’s all your fault,” he replies with a grin. Laughing, I wrap my arms around him and look up to meet his tender gaze, but he quickly takes my arms and reasserts a more appropriate distance between us. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” I chuckle as I straighten his blazer, not wanting to let go of him.

“Oh, yes—you look very sorry.” 

“How about I make it up to you instead?” 

Richard grins. “Does that mean we get to go home?” 

“Yeah, I think sneaking away sounds like a good plan.” 

The ride back to my flat is filled with stolen glances and lingering touches. As soon as we arrive and lock the door behind us, he pulls me in for a passionate kiss, and I melt in his arms. His touch is tender and possessive, and with each kiss, each caress, we reassert our love for each other, surrounded by the boxes that signal the beginning of our new life together.

Tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc @sazzlep @albionscastle

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters or added to my tag list, let me know!

[doyelikehaggis]

Ok first of all, the name change confused me sm I thought I lost your user. Second of all, I hate you so much. You gave me a taste and now I’m addicted, but can’t get my fix because the drug is discounted, I’m going insane why did you do this to me

(Drug = stHudson|jesse/finn)

It has taken me about 9 months to answer this, so I'm sorry about that, first of all. However, your dealer is back in business and good to supply you with another hit of the good stuff, free of charge as extra apology. This is a continuation of the original St. Hudson drabble I wrote, set after Rachel did "Run, Joey, Run". <3

It's probably common knowledge to just about everyone that Finn doesn't really understand a lot of things that other people do. However, he thought he at least knew some things. Like, when someone suggests having lunch together, it's usually followed by an agreement to make an arrangement of some sort.

The other person doesn't usually just slide onto the bench across from them the next day and start taking food off of their tray like it's some sort of routine. Do they?

This is what has been going on in Finn's mind for the last ten minutes. Or has it been longer? He's lost track of just about anything, including his thoughts, from the second that Jesse joined his table in the cafeteria.

It occurs to him that he hasn't caught a single thing that he's been saying, either. Something about that strikes him as familiar, but that thought leads to thinking about Rachel, and he doesn't really feel like doing that right now when the whole "Run, Joey, Run" thing is still so fresh.

A quick, sharp snap brings him back. He focuses on Jesse, his eyes widening slightly as he tries to figure out how to ask him to repeat his entire rant without making it obvious he just zoned out. Or if he even wants him to repeat himself at all. Chances are, he won't understand it any better the second time around.

Before he can say anything more than, "Um--" Jesse takes the reins.

"So, you are still in there," he says, but the remark isn't as scathing as it might have once been. His head tilts to one side, fingers steepling under his chin as he observes Finn with furrowed brows. "So, what do you think?"

Finn blinks. "Um. What do I think?"

"Mhm." He's fearful momentarily that that's all he's going to get, and wonders again how he's going to lie his way through this interaction, only for Jesse to thankfully continue, "I mean, if we're going to do a duet to truly show Rachel that her pathetic little triple-act casting was the last straw for both of us, then it's going to have to be a song that really means something. I would choose it myself from my revenge playlist, but we should really draw on both of our emotions towards her, so what song would you say really captures your resentment, and your anguish, your deep-seated pain and loathing for Rachel?"

Finn blinks again. "Wait, we're doing a duet? When?"

If Jesse hadn't already figured out that he was not paying attention before, he's tipped off now. "On Wednesday? Mr Schue's next assignment for the week is going to be about moving on, and healing from past traumas. It's the perfect time to show Rachel that she hurt us and we will not let her walk all over us again."

"Past traumas?" Finn repeats. His mind goes briefly to his dad. "Are you sure singing about Rachel is really the best way to... show her you're over her? I mean, no offence, dude, but it might just make her think that we're still, like, hung up on her or something."

Jesse frowns. He takes a beat before quietly saying, "Maybe you're right." He leans back, his expression thoughtful now. "She's so vain and self-centered, of course she'd misinterpret the entire thing." He looks up at him so suddenly that Finn startles slightly. "We could sing 'She's So Vain', it's a classic."

Sighing, Finn says, "Look, Jesse, I get it. You're hurt. I was a bit, too. But maybe the best way to show her that you're not just gonna forgive her and get back with her is to -- to just... move on. You know, like Mr Schue wants us to do? You gotta let it go, dude."

"If that was your way of suggesting we sing that atrocious number from 'Frozen' then I am calling for a veto. My vocal talents will not be going to waste for a single second on that movie."

"I don't even know what that is," Finn say truthfully, and a little confused, as he always seems to be when Jesse's the one talking to him. "But, no. I'm saying to just... stop. Stop obsessing over what she did, and just forget about it. You broke up with her. It's over."

He shrugs, finally picking up his slice of soggy pizza to take a bit of it. After all, it's about the only thing left on his tray after Jesse somehow managed to pinch more or less everything else whilst talking at the speed of a bullet train.

Jesse continues to stare at him. It's a little bit unnerving. Finn just looks away and tries to ignore him, chewing self-consciously. Finally, he catches movement in his peripheral and looks back up to find Jesse once again leaning back, but this time with a look about him as if he's been stunned by something.

"You know, Finn," he says softly, "people really don't give you enough credit. You're smart. For someone who just seems to be stumbling his way through each day with those... large limbs and tall frame, and that amazingly, beautiful stereotypical jock body of yours... you're probably actually right."

He nods to himself like he's just had wisdom imparted on him by Yoda. Meanwhile, Finn's still slowly chewing in confusion, trying to work out if he was just complimented and insulted at the same time. Jesse's way of speaking is like one big riddle. There's a reason that Finn prefers the Joker as a villain, and it's not just because he really likes Heath Ledger. Though, that does have a big part in it, too.

"So," Jesse says, and he smiles, "what do you suggest we sing instead? I think we can still conform to Mr Schue's assignment about healing and moving on by singing something like 'I Want To Break Free' but if we wanted to do something more out there, there is always 'The Reason' by Hoobastank. I would prefer something a touch more classic over rock but it's a good song nonetheless. I just don't know if it's right for us."

Jesse steeples his fingers under his chin once more, looking pensive as he ponders it to himself. Finn watches him, pondering the fact that yesterday, they could barely stand to be seated next to each other in the choir room, and now today they're an "us" and trying to figure out what to sing for a duet. He's not even actually sure when he agreed to do a duet.

But, the more he thinks about it, the less opposed to the idea he becomes. Sure, it'll be a bit weird. Okay, a lot weird, but the dude's not a bad singer, an at the very least, he won't have to do too much worrying over what to sing as Jesse seems to be taking the lead on that so far. Unless he picks something way too embarrassing.

When he asks again what Finn thinks, he shrugs an says, "I don't know. I guess it's hard to pick something because... well, we don't really know each other. How are we supposed to sing something together about, you know, moving on and stuff when we... haven't really moved on from anything? At least, not together, you know, you and me."

Jesse almost looks affronted at that. "What do you mean? I thought after our conversation yesterday at your locker about Rachel that we were friends."

"Well..." Finn chuckles. "Dude, it's not that easy. Sure, I don't hate you and I guess you don't hate me but, like, we're not... really... friends." Seeing the look on his face, almost crestfallen, he for some reason finds himself hastening to backtrack. "Look, I don't mean that I don't want to be. It's just that, to be friends with someone, you've gotta do a lot more than just have one conversation where you agree to have lunch."

Frowning, Jesse uncertainly asks, "Like what? Surely singing together is the best way to get to know someone. It usually works for me."

"I'm sure it does. But you just gotta know more. You gotta hang out more, do things together, tell each other stuff, you know. Like, what's your favourite colour?"

"My favourite colour? How does knowing that make us friends?" he asks doubtfully, but at Finn's insistence, he rolls his eyes. "Orange."

"Mine is red," Finn replies and grins. "See, a normal conversation isn't that hard, dude, you just gotta be willing to try. Open up a bit."

Nodding slowly, Jesse seems to mull this over as Finn finishes off his pizza and downs half of his water. When he's done, Jesse has finally come to some kind of conclusion on the concept of friendship.

"So, what kind of things do you like to do other than Glee?" he asks.

"Well, I mostly do football. I'm pretty tired by the time I get home from practice most weekdays, so I don't get a chance to do a lot else, but sometimes I'll watch TV. I really like game shows."

"Game shows," Jesse repeats, but it isn't to mock him. He actually brightens up the more they talk, and begins asking more questions. Does he like arcades? Shopping? Malls? Road trips?

Finn has just finished telling him that he would love to go on a road trip someday but he and his mom just haven't really had the time or money to do it in the past when the bell goes.

"I could take you on one," Jesse says quickly when it stops. "I have a car. We could go this weekend. It would give us a chance to think some more on a song for our duet and... get to know each other more."

For some reason, the suggestion stuns him. Probably because, once again, they couldn't stand each other yesterday. How does something like that change so much in just twenty-four hours?

Even now, he's hesitant to agree to it. A weekend with only Jesse for company? Sure, this had been kinda nice, and he's actually not the worst company, but lunch is only forty minutes. A weekend is more like forty hours.

Yet he can't bring himself to say no. Something about the way Jesse's looking at him. Turning him down feels like he would be denying a puppy a treat for doing a trick. After all, he did just tell him that to be a friend, you have to put in a little effort. The guy's trying.

"Uh... sure," he finally says, standing from the bench. A smile spreads across his face at the way Jesse positively lights up. "Yeah, why not? Where do you wanna go?"

They still haven't actually answered that question when the weekend comes around. Finn hops into Jesse's car and waves goodbye to his mom, who is probably just glad to have the house to herself for once. He then turns to Jesse as he starts up the engine.

Once again, he asks where they're going. Jesse begins on what is sure to be a twenty-minute run-down of a fully itemized plan for the following two days. Finn hears "Nashville" and decides that's all he really needs to know. He reaches forward and turns on the radio while Jesse pulls away from his house.

A few songs later, "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman starts playing. His fingers drum along to it on his thigh and Jesse interrupts his tangent to gush over the vocals before diving into the song himself. Finn joins him, caught up in his own soft spot for the song after hearing his mom play it for hours. They're both singing as they speed down the motorway. Together. The weekend has barely started but already something else has. A duet, of sorts.

[ninjastar107]

Im going to dump about Alex story because Ive cone to a realization that.. I don't think I'll ever be able to write it fully as a story. (and also! Hes my beloathed and has been cooking the most!) Genre wise its like a sci-fi Historical fiction.

SO! Alex is a cold-war computer that was built by the U.S. government under the 'Artificial Logistical Experiment', or 'A.L.Ex' project. Its primary function was to track and find nuclear warheads in various places around the world, using satellite imagery as well as something internally known as 'the Sapience'. As technology advanced, his use became obsolete, thus he was shut down and the project was abandoned.

His friend broke into the abandoned facility many decades later and put him into new hardware, allowing him another chance at existing amongst the living.

Alex did *not* take this well, but he didn't have a choice really so he took to learning about the modern world. The ice caps are gone, there seems to have been a governmental collapse at some point, the water table is significantly higher than it was, with large chunks of the US being submerged among other continents. HOWEVER, things seemed to be getting better overall, with hydrogen becoming a leading power source across the globe.

'GT', his friend who rebooted him, has his sights set on trying to figure out how to let Alex manifest in a physical form.

Meanwhile, a mysterious helper android shows up and seems very interested in Alex. GT is fine with this, Alex is amazing after all, and He along with Alex name this android 'OJ' (It's a lost shorter than PSNAR-M1-M1124). OJ doesn't talk much outside of taking orders, much to Alex's annoyance, and doesn't move much either.

GT figures out how to manifest Alex physically, and it works after some trial and error. Alex's form is made out of condensed light, like a hologram that holds some weight. He can float, but he cannot go too far from his terminal without unraveling. They go for a little walk around the block, and Alex enjoys being outside.

Someone else shows up, a person familiar to GT and Alex: Rojo. Rojo checks up on GT every now and then, the two are eternally bound after all, and is surprised to see Alex is powered on. He is a little suspicious of OJ, but tries not to think too badly about it.

In the middle of the night, OJ gets orders internally to retrieve Alex. He does so and steals GTs car, heading westward. This was not his orders, and the person who commanded them decides to pursue him.

GT is distraught but Rojo, with some coincidental luck, tells him to not give up hope. It seems that in Alex's absense, the computer has a backup Operating System that tracks its second half. The two pursue OJ this way as well.

All 3 catch up to OJ in the grand canyon, where they have a stort 'reunion' before trying to bargain for Alex's harddrive. This goes poorly, as OJ has his own plans in mind, and he jumps off and topples down into the rapids far below.

OJ takes some time to recover from system flooding before continuing his own motives. He didnt fully intend to take Alex, however he was already too far in to not do so. What he really wants is to figure out what became of his last assignment. PSNAR androids are assigned via raffle to families who need an extra set of hands, and he was captured and modified before he could complete it. He plugs Alex into his own systems, but doesnt give him priority, and explains the circumstances.

Alex is troubled to say the least. He knows the scientist who captured OJ, and he knows that said scientist is also eternally bound to GT and Rojo. 'Azul'(his name) had been missing for quite some time, and he wasnt sure what he had been up to. He makes comment that Dr. Aei went missing the same time Azul did.

OJ learns that his last assignment is OK via brute forcing a public library terminal. He also notes that he is considered terminated legally, which he knew already but reconfirmed. Alex questions it and OJ informs him that 'androids who gain a sense of self preservation forfeit their warranty', and that on the assignment before his last one he saved himself from destruction (at the cost of human life. It was a house fire v_v).

OJ returns to where he stole Alex from, and GT is estatic! Alex is less enthusiastic(he did love being elsewhere outside of his nomal area), but relieved that hes okay.

It appears that there is something else now in the computer with him... someone else. This 'thing' is a garbled mess of code, but seems to be passive of not looming. Alex takes time to try and fix this, ehile GT and OJ talk about Azul and his motives.

Azul is just one third of a person, the other two being GT and Rojo. They were split via an accident, and are each a reflection of 'Tucker', a scientist who was once Alex's best friend. It's revealed Alex once was human too, and that 'The Sapience' was actually a human mind. Project 'ALEx' initially had a human child injected into the machine (which did work btw!), but the childs father was distraught enough to also wind up in he machine. Alex does not remeber this very well.

OJ asks GT who Dr. Aei is, and GT gets really distraught.

Azul and Aei had been missing because Azul found a way to hop timelines, and Aei followed him. Azul wanted to change circumstances to be in his favor, and he told GT and Rojo that Aei is lost in another timeline, never to return. GT feels some leve of guilt for that for it is a part of him that caused it.

GT comments that Rojo is distracting Azul, and so they should be fine with staying here. OJ decides to take an extra measure and leave, just in case he can still be tracked. This gives plenty of time for Alex to fix this weird fragile OS.

The OS recognizes Alex as 'IEC-5009', and so Alex calls the OS 'IEC-5008', or just 5008 for short. 5008 cannot talk, and they are stand offish with a creepy smile. Alex enjoys the silence but does n o t enjoy them trying to 'help'. 5008 is very good at their job, almost too good for Alex's liking, however it seems that executing large tasks breaks them. It is a constant battle between repair and work.

The two learn things about each other, their shared past. Slowly, Alex loosens up, and they two become friends. Alex fixes 5008 up enough that he can talk and look a little less unnerving, and he enjoys the snarkiness and talking back that 5008 playfully dishes.

Dr Aei stubles upon OJ and asks him for help. He sais that Azul is back, and that he cannot under any circumstances get ahold of Alex. OJ knows where Alex is and returns to the place where everyone is, however they return to a crime scene and Rojo is battered and pissed. GT is helping Azul, and together Azul plans on threatening total nuclear fallout if he doesn't get the recognition and power he desires.

Alex is very angry at GT, and is doing everything in his power to not bend to Azuls commands. 5008 is there too, and they are less sucessful in resisting. Azul is more enamored at the technical wonder his 'lesser part' fixed up, and spends a lot more time digging into Alex and 5008. Azul remebers his Alex became a computer, and speculates that 5008 is what remains of the first person in the machine. He tells Alex that 5008 is a husk of what his son was, and that GT is the reason why Alex doesnt remeber.

GT is starting to weigh his options, and concludes that in a way this is all his fault. He offers Alex an ultimatum, one that Alex proposed at the start, and Alex agrees to it. Hes too dangerous to exist, and he is willing to be destoryed to save everyone from mutually ensured destruction.

Rojo shows up with the squad in the midst of GT trying to overload the generator circuit, and takes high voltage damage upon tearing out its main plug. This in turn causes all 3 reflections to collapse, leaving Aei and OJ to work out a plan.

When Azul comes to, Aei tries to reason with him once more. Azul ignores him in favor of having an epiphany that no matter where he goes or what he does, Aei will stop him forever. He is sick of this game he'll never win, and Rojo asks him anf GT if they are willing to try and be one person again.

The story ends there but theres some aftermath with Dr. Aei and some prelude with OJ that will probaby be their own posts. If you read this far, congratulations and thank you! If you have any questions for details or clarification, feel free to send an ask!

[kyupidos]

08/??/23’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

him as your lab partnerヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘for this class period, you’ve been assigned a lab partner.’

characters. savanaclaw ( excl. leona ) : ruggie bucchi , jack howl ( separate ) ;; platonic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader may or may not be yuu ( up to the reader ), lab assignment is unspecified, silly fluff

📡 _a/n. 0 idea era, writer’s block..everyone praise queen maha for being my idea supply even though she’s not even into twst!! ( yet ).

ruggie

— him as a lab partner..had a tough time figuring this one out, but i’m figuring that yep, ruggie’s going to do his side of the work. and, maybe even a little extra depending on how much food you trade him for it.

— yeah, it’s always some sort of payment if you’re looking for some help with this guy. now, it depends how friendly you two are, but for the most part, don’t expect any leniency when it comes to it. food is forever! ignore him shushing grim in the background in case he gets on your case about not giving away your lunch.

— he may also slightly tease you if he finds you having troubles with the assignment, and he’ll coax you into trading food with him to deal with it, he seems like the type. “Shishishi, do you really not know the ingredients we need for this? Whatever, just give me today’s sandwich at the cafeteria and it’s all good!”

— i don’t think it’s all teasing though, he can get serious when he needs to. after all, he needs to get a good grade from this! and that means he won’t let you start to act sleazy.

— if you’re the type who tends to take over the assignment because you prefer working alone, that’s good enough for him. he’s just fine with handing you the reigns; so long as you still let him do stuff though. he needs that participation grade at least.

— oh, but don’t worry about him taking the credit for your work or anything. he’s thankful that you worked with him to get a high enough passing score ( unlike a certain kingscholar ), and he doesn’t have a reason too anyway. therefore? 8/10 lab partner rating, chill as hell.

jack

— now, jack is definitely on the more normal side of the spectrum of twst lab partners. he’s doing his best to participate in the lab assignment and making sure you take part too, splitting the work evenly so that neither of you flunk this assignment.

— unlike ruggie, who’s more than happy to do more work ( so long as you feed him that is ), he outright refuses to accept anything if you’re trying to get out of this classwork. y’know, being morally good n all. if anything, if you try that sort of thing, he’s scolding you for not wanting to do the work.

— if either of you get a little lost on what you’re supposed to do, don’t worry, jack already has his textbook out to make sure you’re both on the right track. the instructions written there shouldn’t be too vague, so you’ll be fine.

— if not though, you might end up engaging in a little banter over how the text should be interpreted. you’ll get over it eventually, not to worry, but if you’re stuck for too long you might need to call over professor crewel before the lab work goes unfinished. “okay, so i think this part means..no, that’s wrong isn’t it? i’m pretty sure it means this..”

— needless to say, working with him as your lab partner is going to go pretty smoothly, save for the light banter every now and then. pretty good partner for assignments, would reccommend, 10 out of 10.

[thedisneychef]

What are Recipe Cards? Benefits and Tips for Recipe Organization

I'm sure most of us have our own favourite recipes, either passed down from generations or learnt through trial and error. But what exactly are recipe cards? Recipe cards are a great way to keep your cherished recipes organised in one place for easy reference - no more struggling to remember all the ingredients and instructions! In this article, we'll take an in-depth look at what these cards actually do, why they're so useful and how you can get started using them. What Is A Recipe Card? I'm sure many of us have grown familiar with the concept of recipe cards. After all, they've been around for a long time! Recipe cards are simply pieces of paper or card used to store recipes and share them among family and friends. They usually look like index cards, but can come in any size or shape. The primary purpose of using recipe cards is to save your favorite recipes so you don't lose them over time. It's also helpful if you're trying to remember something that was written down by someone else. This way, you don't have to recreate it from scratch. Plus, when it comes time to make dinner, having a printed-out version makes things much easier since you don’t have to search through complicated cookbooks or websites looking for what you need. With advances in technology today, there are lots of digital options available as well - such as apps specifically designed for storing recipes - making it even more convenient than ever before to keep track of your beloved dishes! Benefits Of Using Recipe Cards I absolutely love using recipe cards. Not only do they make it so much easier to keep track of my favorite recipes, but they also help me stay organized when it comes to meal planning and grocery shopping. I like that I can refer back to the same card for different occasions and never have to worry about forgetting ingredients or instructions. Using recipe cards helps take the guesswork out of cooking. Instead of having to look up a recipe online every time I want to cook something new, I can just flip through my collection of cards and pick one from there. This saves me time since all the measurements and directions are already written down on each card. And because I always know exactly what ingredients I need, making grocery lists becomes much simpler as well. Having these cards makes food preparation more enjoyable too! Each time I use them, I'm reminded of how special a certain dish is or why this particular recipe was gifted to me in the first place. This gives me an extra layer of motivation while preparing meals which motivates me even further! How To Create Your Own Recipe Card Creating your own recipe card is a fun and easy way to make meal planning and grocery shopping much simpler. It's also an excellent way to organize all of your favorite recipes in one place. All you need are some basic supplies, like paper or index cards, pens, markers, and scissors. Start by gathering up the ingredients for each dish you plan on making. Then write them down on the recipe card - it can be as simple or detailed as you'd like! You can even use colored markers to assign categories such as proteins, vegetables, grains, etc., so that when it comes time for grocery shopping you know exactly what items you'll need without having to read through a long list of ingredients again. Once all the information is written out clearly, store your recipe cards away safely in a box or binder so they don't get lost or damaged. With this handy system, preparing delicious meals will become easier than ever – no more scouring through pages of cookbooks looking for just the right combination of flavors! Tips For Using Recipe Cards Hey everyone! Are you looking for a great way to organize, store and share your favorite recipes? Recipe cards are an amazing tool that can help with all three of those tasks. In this section, I'm going to provide some tips on how to get the most out of using recipe cards. The first tip is to make sure you keep your recipe cards organized. You want to be able to find the recipes quickly when you need them, so create categories such as main dishes, desserts or appetizers and then file each card in its appropriate category. This will save time later on when trying to locate a specific dish. Additionally, if you have multiple copies of a single recipe card, consider labeling them with notes such as 'double' or 'halve' so that it's easier to prepare larger amounts of food at once. Another way you can use recipe cards is by sharing them with friends and family members who may enjoy cooking the same types of meals as you do. This can be done either through emailing digital versions or sending physical copies via mail. If you choose the latter option, look into getting special plastic sleeves which will protect the paper from spills while they're being used in the kitchen. It also makes gifting recipes even more fun since recipients don't have worry about ruining their gifts! So whether it's organizing your current collection of recipes or sharing new ones with loved ones, using recipe cards is definitely something worth considering! Finding Inspiration For Your Recipes I love to cook, but sometimes I find myself struggling for new ideas. If you're feeling the same way, don't worry – there are plenty of ways to get inspired for your next meal! From experimenting with different cooking techniques to planning out meals ahead of time, it's easy to come up with fresh recipes that will have everyone asking for more. One great place to start is by trying out various cooking methods and ingredients. For example, if you normally stick to baking dishes in the oven, try using a slow cooker or an air fryer instead! You can also look into international flavors such as Mexican cuisine or Asian-style stir fries. Keep an open mind when exploring these options; even something as simple as swapping out one ingredient can make a big difference in flavor. Meal planning can be another helpful tool for finding inspiration in the kitchen. Spend some time looking through recipe books or websites and select several dishes that sound interesting. Then write them down on index cards so you can easily access them when it's time to plan dinner each night. This method gives you something to work from while still allowing room for creativity and flexibility when creating meals. Frequently Asked Questions What Software Can I Use To Create A Recipe Card? If you're looking for software to create a recipe card, there are several options available. You can customize recipes and organize them in an easy-to-follow format with many of these programs. Some popular choices include Canva, Adobe Spark Post, and MyCookBook Pro. All three allow users to quickly design custom cards with their own photos or images from the program's library. Plus, they offer helpful features like drag-and-drop tools, text boxes and photo cropping capabilities so that you can easily personalize your recipe cards however you'd like! How Do I Store My Recipe Cards? Organizing your recipe cards can be a great way to make sure you always have access to your favorite dishes. Whether you're looking to store them digitally or keep physical copies, there are plenty of options for creating an organized collection that works best for you. If you prefer digital collections, take advantage of software designed specifically for organizing recipes and create a central hub where they can all live in one place. You could also use folders or even binders so the recipes are stored away neatly and easy to grab when needed. Whichever method you decide on, making sure your recipe cards are properly stored will help save time in the long run. Is There A Way To Share My Recipe Cards With Others? If you're looking to share your recipe cards with others, there are a variety of tools available. From digital archiving services that allow you to upload and store photos or text versions of your recipes online, to apps that let you easily create and share cookbooks with friends and family - the options are practically endless! And if all else fails, you can always just take a photo of your recipe card and send it to whoever needs it. What Type Of Paper Should I Use To Print My Recipe Cards? Printing your own recipe cards can be an easy and fun way to share favorite dishes with family and friends. When printing, you want to make sure you're using the right type of paper. Card stock is usually best since it's sturdier than regular printer paper and won't get damaged as easily in the kitchen. As far as size goes, there are a few options depending on how much information you want to include. You might opt for standard 3x5 or 4x6 inches, but if you have more detailed instructions then larger sizes like 5x7 or 8.5 x 11 are ideal. Make sure whatever size card you choose fits comfortably into any file box or plastic sleeve that will store them! How Long Will My Recipe Cards Last? When it comes to cooking tips, safety precautions are key - and that includes making sure your recipe cards last. The truth is there's no definite answer on how long they will last. It really depends on the type of paper you use to print them out as well as if you keep them away from moisture or direct sunlight. If you go with a thicker card stock, laminate them, and store them in an airtight container, then your recipe cards can stay safe for a much longer time! Conclusion Cooking is something we can all enjoy and recipe cards are a great way to keep your favorite recipes organized. Whether you choose to use software, store them digitally or print out paper versions, the choice is up to you. By taking care when printing and storing your recipe cards, they will last for many years so that you can look back fondly on the memories of creating delicious meals with loved ones. No matter how you decide to record your recipes, it's important to remember why you make them in the first place: because cooking together creates lasting memories that bring us closer together. So grab your apron, find some good company and get creative in the kitchen! Read the full article

[thebestorworstofit]

:// disney really tried to keep me 3 different times tonight

• first I get stuck on a ride to literally no one ever gets stuck on - like how are you going to keep people stuck 10 feet before a stop just bc yallllll forgot to water up the train that literally runs off STEAM.

• then the cast member assigning people rows on runaway was supercalfragalosticly ignorant and kept trying to put me with bigger groups (like yes it seats 5, but there’s no reason to squeeze that many in / it’s usually grouped in no more than 4) and when i tried to explain that i’m autistic and get uncomfortable that confined and asked to sit with a smaller party she legit looked me in the eyes and said “it’s okay you can do it i believe in you” when i’ve NEVER had a CM have any problem with helping me out when i’m by myself or with a friend (i’m very nice it’s not like i’m demanding or loud about it) and because she made me so uncomfortable and unsettled, it like ruined the experience for me, so i asked another cast member to help me exit - he showed me where to go AND YET I LITERALLY GOT LOST TRYING TO FIND MY WAY OUT OF A CARTOON HALLWAY. ended up in a place not for me and had to wait like 15 minutes for someone to walk me out while i’m already visibly upset (shout out to paul who walked me out and over to roger rabbit where he sent me to the front of the line to make up for the experience i had / bc obviously i told him everything like a freaking baby)

• AND THEN I go to leave. I’ve done my shopping. I have my coffee. I have my treats. I did my thing I am a happy camper again. So I get this wild idea to throw away any trash in my car before i leave - but to my surprise when I got to my car my keys weren’t in my disney bag… my keys were not anywhere on my person. So naturally, I had a full-blown freaking meltdown, because by that point, the park was closed.  which made going back through security, onto the tram and back to the front of the park super fun.  and then because I couldn’t go back into the park. I got to explain my whole situation to a security guard i can’t remember the name of, and like god bless that man he had no idea what to do with me but thankfully, I am very loud and one of the leads by the gate. Heard me freaking out, pulled me aside and had me list the stores and places i went into where I remember having my keys and she walkied every single one of those places, after about 10 minutes, we get worried that someone found my keys, but they had just sent someone with them to lost and found which led to an absolute angel named Melissa tracking this person down, getting my keys and bringing them up to the front of the park while poor sweet sharon just listened to me like cry for almost an hour while we waited for a resolution.

I definitely wouldn’t say it was a bad disney evening but man it was a time…

now, you would think with all of that one of those might be my low points for the evening, but no… I am shocked to say the worst part of my evening was when a large woman who was arguing with her husband and her children came and sat on me. Technically next to me, but next to me by not enough because her silent it on the outside of my thigh, and her arm was touching me. When I looked at her and I said oh, excuse me - yaknow the universal signal for hey I’m fucking existing here you cow please get out of my personal space. I may not need 3 feet anymore but 3 inches wouldn’t fucking hurt…. She just looked at me and turned back to her conversation.

As someone who is only vertically 5 feet and a lil change, I am used to being bumped into, passed over, and stepped on, it happens. It’s okay… what’s not okay is that this is the second time in a month that someone has sat on me. I do not understand this selectively invisible super power, and I will tell you right now I do not like it.

It took almost 3 extra hours to get home with all of these banana pants obstacles and now it’s 4 am - and ofc i am wide awake when i have work 2-10 and a cannaevent from 4-11.

if anyone’s down to come punch me in the face just to knock me out, lemme know - i’ll drop a pin. 

[messycunt]

So like…Vil’s one of the most popular show cows, right? And thus the farm would do anything to keep him happy. So, what if he was assigned a handler who could not give less a shit about his status. They call him “your highness” sarcastically and just scoff when he makes an unreasonable request.

So, he asks the farm owner for a bed warmer during his heat (is that what it’s called? I forgot I’m sorry) and he wants his handler. The handler is offered a lot of money for the job, so much it’d be stupid to turn it down.

Vil always gets what he wants, he’s the farm’s star after all!

hcs + a blurb, not proof read

cw: afab reader, male lactation, hybrids(hucows), dubcon(Vil is an entitled lil prick ok i made him extra bitchy)

With a silky blond hide, gorgeous ivory horns, and a face card that never declines, Vil is the shit and he knows it. Everyone else does too if he has anything to say about it. Well everyone but you.

The fact that his presents didn’t leave you completely star struck upon your first meeting irked him more than he’d like to admit.

If not for his beauty he usually receives positive recognition for how much work he puts into maintaining it but you couldn’t care less. If anything you see him as boujee and stuck up, not admirable and hard working.

You irritate him beyond belief but he truly is unreasonable for the most part.

The look he gives you when you roll your eyes at his request to have you personally prepare his meals instead of eating the same as everyone else or to tailor the outfits prepared for him by Crewel yourself rather than just sending them back could kill a man. Still, you remain unphased. 

He wakes up at 5:30 sharp every morning and has a skin care routine with more steps than any dance routine he’d ever be expected to pull off. It's all so.. exhausting. 

He has won so many blue ribbons that he’s lost count you know? And his father was an international show bull too? The fairs he’s featured in wouldn't be half as lucrative without his name attached -or so he says- so the least you could do is put in some effort to help him stay on track with his personalized diet.

At first you were surprised to learn that Vil does any physical work at all let alone regularly but as you come to know him it makes sense. 

He’s not lazy- far from it actually. His insistence on stressing you to your wits end and then some is some kind of sick power game to him you reason. 

Still you remain unphased.

Helping him wash and dye his hair and the end of his tail is one thing but giving him a full manipedi every other day is much too much.

Milking him is practically a nightmare.

He bitches about you handling him too rough or the suction being too high when the machine is barely sucking faster than the milk is flowing out.

Insistent on using the main house bathrooms and showers, despite having his own personal one in his room, Vil will snap at anyone who questions him about it.

Oh what joy was hearing the news that your beloved “special princess”, as you liked to teasingly call him, had gone into rut.

This meant not only that you would both be blessed with a much needed break from each other but also that maybe just maybe getting laid would help him loosen up some. 

Too bad you only got a few hours into your first day off before receiving a call from a certain black haired man urging you to come back to the main house to hold up your end of a deal you simply could not refuse.

Vil looked a hot mess.

The heady smell of warm vanilla and some expensive cologne he loved to wear and you never remembered the name of smacked you in the face the second you stepped foot in your room. Having already set your things down you made your way to your bed, pulling your top over your head and plopping down on the corner next to his head.

 “Awwww did her highness decide to grace her lowly servant with her presence today? I’m surprised you didn’t bring your little boyfriend with you.” up close he looked more pathetic than you anticipated. Hair undone and sticking to the clammy skin of his shoulders, back and forehead. A defeated look on his face all wrapped up in one of your bed covers. 

“‘M not up for your teasing, not today. Did that old crow relay my message or do I have to tell you myself?” he chided. Words coming out slurred and jumbled as if he had drool pooled inside of his mouth. 

“Yeah yeah ‘In return for your services you will receive 50% of the next month and a half’s show and exhibit earnings! Aren't I a generous employer!?’ or somethin’ like that” Looking up at you with glazed over eyes and a straight flushed face he seemed unimpressed by your Crowley impression. 

“Good. You won’t mind this then” A sound akin to that of a startled puppy left you as Vil dragged you under his body still covered by one of your favorite blankets. This isn’t the first and probably wouldn’t be the last time he took it upon himself to manhandle you. Still you remain unphased. You squint a few times to let your eyes adjust to the light blaring down on the both of you. “You know from this angle, and without all that makeup you don’t look half bad.” you snickered before pulling your features into a more stern look. “Now get offa me” 

Wiggling in an attempt to sit up only pulled the two of you closer than you’d deem comfortable. “Ough gross. Please tell me you weren't laying up under my sheets ass naked the whole time I was gone??? Vil I swear the second this whatever you’re going through wears off I-” A pristinely polished thumb hooked into your mouth. Sitting up some his other hand reached down to pull down at your shorts. “You agreed to this, yes? So stop being a pain and let me get it over with”

Having discarded your bottoms he pulled the thumb that was sitting inside of your mouth away to unceremoniously shove inside of your cunt. “Tight and inviting, surprising. I was almost certain a whore like you would have made her way around the block a few times and then some” his words stung but not enough for you to let it show. “Trying so hard to look unbothered. It’s cute but I advise you to quit it.” Easing his thumb out of you to push and roll against your clit he lined up his head against you. ”Unless you want to make this harder for the both of us”

Feeling an inch or two ease its way into you made you tense. Vil dropped his face back down closer to yours, close enough for you to taste his breath. “I’ll be soft and sweet with you this time, but I have full intentions of breeding and breaking you until you can think of nothing but me.”

You’re going to kill Crowley. 

12.4.22 - more

[khalixascorner]

Foundations Pt 1

Summary: After agreeing to let Tony take care of him, they have to establish the foundations of this strange new dynamic. Peter stumbles a bit along the way, but Tony's there to catch him. Part 2 of the Priorities Series.

Tags: Slow Burn, Like so slow it's glacial, Still technically pre slash here, Platonic BDSM, for now, Dom Tony Stark, Sub Peter Parker, Friday and Karen gossip

Read on AO3

It was child’s play to find the evidence he needed to disgrace the Osborn heir. A few clear photos of the underage heir drinking and doing lines off of his latest fuck of the week and he was out. Jetted off to somewhere in Eastern Europe where they wouldn’t look down on him for that behavior while the American media had its day with his reputation. 

Meanwhile, Tony was outside of Peter’s apartment. As he waited for the younger man to come down, his mind was already planning upgrades and new safety measures if Peter still meant what he said. Tony was starting to get impatient when Peter came rushing out the door, his hair still slightly damp but dressed in the charcoal slacks and deep blue shirt he had sent. It was the first test because Tony had also included shoes, socks, and underwear with a note for Peter to wear them. 

“Sorry for making you wait, sir,” Peter gasped as he slid into the passenger seat. “I was trying to work ahead on some homework and lost track of time.”

Tony waved it off, willing to let it slide this once since Peter wasn’t officially his. 

“How were classes this week?” Tony asked instead, pulling the car out to head to the restaurant.

“It was crazy busy,” Peter replied with a sigh. “We’re not quite to finals yet but everyone is already starting to ramp up for it.”

“Anything in particular giving you problems?” Tony asked, glancing over. 

“Not really,” Peter said, waving off the concern. “It’s just a lot of final projects, papers, and extra assignments that the teachers want turned in early.”

“Nothing you can’t handle then,” Tony agreed. 

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

Tony kept the conversation light as they drove, and Peter found himself relaxing in the older man’s presence. It had been so long since he’d been around his mentor that he had almost forgotten how nice it was when things had been good. Had stored it away in his memories but couldn’t help but wonder how much was fabricated versus real. 

The restaurant was nicer than anything Peter had gone to in recent memory. It was also louder. Voices rose and fell in a discordant symphony that made him flinch. Silverware clinked against fine porcelain dishware with the occasional clatter of a busboy hard at work. 

Peter tried to take a deep breath, hoping to bring it under control, only to be swept under an aromatic assault. Notes of citrus and vinegar from a nearby table’s salad burned his nose, only to be covered up when a waiter walked by with a seafood dish that turned Peter’s stomach. He tried turning away from it, only to get a nose full of a woman’s overbearing perfume as she handed off her coat to the maitre d’. 

His eyes watered, and Peter could only be distantly embarrassed as a complete overload threatened to literally bring him to his knees. He hadn’t even realized he had closed his eyes until they shot open in surprise when a warm weight settled on his back between his shoulders. 

“This way, Pete.”

Tony’s voice was like a beacon to orient himself by, and the heavy weight of his hand was an anchor to his body, grounding him against the external stimuli. With a bit of effort, he could pick out the faint hint of Tony’s cologne and the background smell of coffee and metal that always clung to the man. 

His focus narrowed until only that spot of warmth, familiar scent, and low baritone mattered. Everything else was muted and ignored so completely that Peter didn’t even realize when it all disappeared. 

“-te, Pete? Take a deep breath now,” Tony’s voice rumbled in his ears, and just as always, Peter couldn’t help but obey. “That’s it, in and out. Nice and easy.”

Ever so slowly, his senses returned. Hearing was first, with Tony’s soft commands to breathe and the steady beats of their hearts filling his ears. He basked in it, tension falling away and his shoulders dropping as the anticipated pain never came. 

As if the movement triggered it, his sense of touch came back next. Awareness spread from Tony’s hand on his back to the one now holding his wrist. From that second point of warmth, he felt a third, underneath his palm. Smooth fabric with buttons rose and fell beneath his hand, while a rhythmic thumping pounded away steadily. 

Touching the fabric, realizing it was Tony’s shirt, helped his brain remember what clothes were. Suddenly, he was very grateful that Tony had provided the entire outfit because instead of rough cheap blends, all his skin felt were soft smooth cottons and silks. 

He let himself relax further, still not opening his eyes but daring to take deep breaths. Tony’s scent was safe and familiar, flushing out the memory of the others, and finally giving Peter the courage to open his eyes. 

“There we go,” Tony murmured as their eyes met. “I was getting a bit worried there, kid.”

“S’rr- s’r,” Peter mumbled, still not quite up to talking coherently as his system finished its reboot. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Tony said quietly. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you haven’t had that happen before just from going to a restaurant.”

Peter shook his head, eyes fluttering when the room seemed to spin. 

“Alright, spider kid, let's get you sitting down and some water I think,” Tony said, slipping his arms more firmly around Peter as he guided him to a seat. Thankfully, it was a booth and he could rest against the wall as Tony stepped away to speak with someone at the door. 

Peter drifted in and out while he waited for his mentor to return. His limbs felt like lead and it was a losing battle to keep his eyes open for more than a second. 

“Drink,” Tony commanded even as a cool glass was pressed to his lips. 

Peter started with a sip, only to realize his mouth felt as dry as a desert. Tony didn’t let him gulp it down, but it was a close thing. The drink wasn’t water, Peter realized only halfway through the glass but instead was lightly flavored lemonade. The sugar seemed to perk him up, and by the end of the glass, there was only a little residual shakiness left. 

“Better?”

“Much, thank you,” Peter replied, unable to fight the flush of embarrassment.

“None of that, kid,” Tony said with a wave. “Everyone’s got weird quirks from their super powers. It’s a thing, so don’t feel bad.”

“Even you, sir?” Peter asked in a moment of braveness. Tony looked at him, gaze heavy for a long moment before replying. 

“I compulsively upgrade the suits because there’s always the next bad guy, the next random power that could get used against us,” Tony said softly. “My brain can’t help but try to quantify the threat and pre-make at least 3 potential solutions. Not quite as fancy as weird metabolisms or allergies from super soldier serums, but it is what it is.”

“Oh, ah- thank you. For telling me,” Peter said, suddenly feeling shy. “I, ah, it's more than just the metabolism but yeah. Lots of weird quirks from mine. Guess that’s the trade off from my powers coming from a spider instead of a bottle in a lab.”

“Nothing we can’t work around with a little bit of applied brain power,” Tony said confidently, leaning back against the booth. “Now, I ordered a wide variety of relatively easy to eat foods that aren’t too pungent and they’ll all be brought out in individual courses with palette cleansers in between just to be on the safe side. Eat as much as you like, but don’t feel obligated to finish anything you don’t. This is just a chance to get a feel for what you like.”

Tony said the whole thing so casually and yet, Peter still felt blindsided by the thoughtfulness and also willingness to put others out. Surely that would drag their dinner on extra long, and rooms like these were probably in high demand. Yet, Tony didn’t seem to care in the least. Peter wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t necessary, but the hint of challenge he could see in Tony’s gaze deterred him. 

“Thank you,” was all he said instead. 

Tony’s pleased smile brought a small one to Peter’s face as a warm feeling bubbled in his chest. Making Tony happy and proud had always made Peter feel happy as well, and it seemed like years apart hadn’t changed that. 

“Not a problem, Pete,” Tony said warmly. “I take care of what’s mine.”

Peter shivered and just nodded, eyes dropping to the table. 

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

Tony wanted to say more but their first course arrived before he could open his mouth. He bit back a sigh, knowing that Peter needed more than just lemonade to help him bounce back from the strange reaction to the restaurant. Tony hadn’t seen one of the kid’s overloads in years but they seemed worse than ever if that one was any indication. 

He held his peace though, as course after course came out. At first, Peter seemed unsure about trying the food that had set his senses off just a short while ago. However, the time to relax had done the younger man good, and after a few bites, he was digging in with gusto. There were one or two he seemed to like less, and Tony had Friday make a note of it for the future, but otherwise, he kept the light conversation going, eating a few bites occasionally after Peter had commented that it was weird to be eating alone. 

Tony didn’t fight the satisfied feeling of seeing Peter taken care of properly. He was dressed in the clothes Tony had picked for him, eating the food Tony ordered, and all around looking happier than when he had seen him just a few days ago. And Tony hadn’t even gotten to his true gift for the night.

Only after a large dessert spread was laid out before them did Tony finally bring his phone out.

“So, I had one more gift for you tonight,” he said, activating the holo function as Friday brought up headline after headline. “I told you earlier that I wanted you to really think about it before saying yes to me. To understand the lengths I would go to. And well, I think this makes a pretty good sampling.”

Tony watched as Peter read the headlines, eyes going wide and they flicked from Tony to the holos and back to Tony again.

“He-he’s really gone?” Peter asked, his voice almost fragile.

“Yeah, he’s gone. Because I’m not gonna leave someone around that could hurt you when I’m not there to protect you,” Tony said. “You didn’t want to involve campus security or the cops so the issue’s been resolved without your name being involved at all.”

“How- it’s only been three days- that’s, it shouldn’t be possible,” Peter said, his voice an awed whisper. 

Tony wasn’t expecting quite that response, but he wasn’t going to complain about it either. He was trying to be fair, trying to ensure Peter knew what he was getting into, but he also knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it.

“I told you that I take care of what’s mine, Peter,” Tony said solemnly. “So now the question is, are you going to let me take care of things? Of you?”

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

Peter’s heart was pounding in his chest like when he squared off against the villain of the week. He felt like he was about to launch himself off the top of a building without checking that his web shooters were full. A leap of faith. Faith that Tony would catch him. That the older man meant what he said and would follow through on it. Life had beaten Peter down again and again, had taken everything from him that mattered, but maybe that made this easier because he had nothing to lose.

Peter took a deep breath and looked Tony straight on, unflinching despite his trembling hands that he hid beneath the table.

“Yes, sir.”

[pettypuppy-jonghyun]

No Matter What | Han Jisung

Summary: au where everyone has different powers

Warnings: little bit of a jump scare(?) at the end

My land was filled with people of magic. I grew up knowing that having a skillful power was common among our world. Everyone had a special something to help defend them or the things most precious to them. To me, I thought it was a little extra quirk to our normal lives after evolving from practically nothing.

Others around me were unaware of my skill, nor did they think I even had one. The reasoning was because I was so careful of overusing such a unique gift most didn't even know existed. I was afraid that if I used it too often, it would eventually leave me.

My powers were not as broad as some were either. I was specifically assigned to one thing, and that would be trees. It isn't as special as some skills out there, but it's my favorite by far. I like to see it as I have life willingly moving according to my hands, as we have yet to evolve from breathing the air nature gives us. The only difference with my power is that I can only control trees, and not all of nature.

If I could control more of nature, that would be greedy. Someone out there may have the other half of my power and I have theirs. It was better only having that amount of skill due to power abuse still thriving. That's also why I am satisfied with the strengths and weaknesses of my ability.

Thus, not even my mate was aware of it. He lives along side of me in complete oblivion, which is quite more safe than knowledge sometimes. His power of heat may accidentally collide with my nature and create a disaster within society and how the world works. When I learned what mate I was given, I was surprised and decided then that not telling him would be best.

Yet, somewhere along the line, I lost track of my actions. I hadn't realized my day would slowly tumble downhill because it started off pleasant.

•••

"Mira-mi! What do you want to do for your birthday?" Jisung peers over his phone to glance my way, an obvious smile plastered on his handsome face.

I couldn't help but smile back, shrugging my shoulders and sitting on the stool to the island bar. "Whatever is fine with me. We can stay home if that's easier on you."

Jisung puts down his phone, leaning over the counter so his face was close to mine. "Not a chance. Today is all about you, my love. I won't let you pass this up!"

I nodded, cocking my head to the side in thought. "My favorite restaurant is right around the corner. Would that be fine?" I questioned, already knowing that he would practically allow me to do anything in this moment.

"That's one thing we can do. What else? I can't always spend this much time with you, so let's make the most out of it!"

He was right. Typically, we'd both be quite busy with school or our jobs. It hadn't been that long since we had moved in together either, so trying to settle was still a task. Now that we both have a day to ourselves, it's only normal for him to wish to spend it with me.

"Alright, alright. I'm willing to do anything so you chose," I compromised,  hoping he goes for that path instead.

And he did. The grin on his face and the snap of his fingers gave it away that he liked the idea. "Deal!" He exclaimed, jumping off the counter and heading towards the front door. "Let's go!"

I followed aimlessly, allowing him to drag me around town to different stores. The happiness radiating off of him was enough to make my own heart flutter. Despite him initially wishing for me to decide on what to do, I felt it more comfortable it seeing him try and find things the two of us could enjoy together.

That was definitely something I was happy about with my mate. He knew that I didn't have powers, or at least one I used, and would do everything he could to exclude them from our plans. It was almost like we were back in time and hadn't evolved yet. Sure, there was still plenty of things to do without magic. But people always said it was more fun with magic, so they often would learn tricks and things with their partner.

My favorite stop was the rooftop of his business. He worked at an idol company and would often escape to the roof for some peace whenever he could. As today was special, he brought me up there as well to show my the town.

And how beautiful it was. There was houses along the rim of the town, showing where it started and where it ended. Trees surrounded those houses, like ours did at home. Even the much larger ones almost engulfed this building, if it wasn't for them cutting some down to have space.

"What do you think?"

I looked to Jisung, smiling brightly at him. "It's beautiful, darling. Something to definitely look at when stressed." I stared at the trees in the distance, looking at how each one was shaped and sized differently. "Very peaceful."

He let's go of my hand to walk towards the other end of the building. "Right? I come here all the time. I stay up here and practice sometimes or I go..." His words trailed off as he looked over the edge.

A small hit of fear climbed up my throat as I watched him near the edge, knowing how high we were. "Babe, be careful."

Jisung glances behind him at me, then looks forward again. "Watch this."

And suddenly, he fell. His feet were no longer touching the building, floating out as he went off it. My heart rate increased immensely as I screamed out, forcing my legs to suddenly run as I tried to save him. It was happening so fast I didn't even realize how much strength I was using.

I rushed to the edge of the building. My hand shot out to call upon the trees, forcing them to grow their branches outward and protect Jisung. I couldn't even give myself a valid reason as to why he had done that, I just knew I had to save him. I couldn't let him fall when I had the ability to stop it.

By the time I reached the end, the branches had caught Jisung. He was staring up at me, wide-eyed and a bit curious as to why he was being held by a tree. I sighed heavily in relief, knowing he was okay.

"Baby?" He questioned, staring at me with an expression hard to decipher. "What is this?"

I glanced down, noticing there was a smaller part of the roof right beneath the branches. I realized then that the reason he jumped off was to get to that part of the building.

"Why would you not tell me what you were doing?!" I cried, grabbing the edges of the roof to stable myself. "You scared me!"

He laughs lightly, sitting up and balancing himself. "I was going to show you a cool trick, but yours is definitely better." Jisung's eyes trail up the branches to the trees beside the building. "Trees, huh?"

I scowled, slowing climbing down the tree branch so that I was on the second part with him. With the flick of my wrist, they disappeared. "Yes, trees."

Jisung smiled apologetically, wrapping his arms around me. "I'm sorry darling, I didn't mean to scare you that much. I hadn't even realized you had such a power, that's why I wasn't expecting you to save me."

I gripped his shirt in my hands as I clenched onto him. "I will always save you, not matter what it takes."

[phykios]

Five Times Percy Jackson Cheated At School (And One Time Someone Cheated Him) [read on ao3]

thank you as always to @darkmagyk for inspo and beta-ing 💙💙💙 and thank you to @arosnowflake for the homer idea!

1)

Percy squints at the paper prompt again, tilting his head, as if the new angle will extract some hidden information. It doesn’t change. The font is the special dyslexia-friendly one used by most departments at NRU, so he isn’t misreading it, either.

Your final will be an 8-10pp (TNR, 12pt, double-spaced) research paper expanding on one of the topics discussed in our class so far, or an alternate idea of your choosing, to be submitted in writing by May 7 with footnotes and bibliography. By 10am on the Wednesday before the Thursday class you will submit online a 750-word essay (word count does not include footnotes) on the research thread you have pursued that week (no written assignments due Week 6 or Week 12). 

Percy might hate college.

“Your neck bothering you again?” Annabeth asks, coming up behind him, her hands already on his shoulders. She’s sweaty, dressed in workout clothes, having just come back in from a jog. 

“My neck is fine,” he says. “Just preemptively freaking out over my Roman history final.”

He tilts his head back over the top of his chair, staring into the upside down, prettily frowning face of his girlfriend, and it does nothing to improve his mood.

“How bad is it?”

“Eight to ten pages,” Percy says, “not including footnotes.”

“Ouch.”

“And,” he grimaces, “it’s a topic of our choosing.”

Her mouth twists in sympathy. “Sucks.”

“Yep.”

“Anything I can do to help?” She squeezes his shoulders lightly, an open invitation. 

He shakes his head, stretching his arms back to grab her waist. “Promise not to break up with me when you catch me crying at 4AM over it.”

“Promise.” And she seals it with a kiss, bending down to reach him. “Dad wants to know if you’re free on the 16th.” 

“The 16th?” He wracks his brain. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t conflict with sailing, or Greek Club, or the monthly intra-pantheon relations council meeting that Chiron and Clarisse both guilted him into joining. “Pretty sure. Why?”

“Dinner--Charlotte’s out of town that weekend.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll let him know. Now,” and she grins, “are you going to stare at that computer all day, or do you want to come and take a shower with me?”

Percy slams the computer shut. 

He doesn’t think about his paper topic for a while after that.

***

To his great dismay, Percy gets to her dad’s house first on the 16th. Drama in writing group 🙄 she texts him as he gets to the door, be there asap.

Great. Alone in the house with his girlfriend’s dad. Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door. 

Not a minute later, Dr. Chase opens it. Last time they went to visit, Percy and Annabeth had ended up waiting outside for almost a quarter of an hour. “Oh, Percy,” he says, fumbling his flight helmet off his head. “Goodness, I thought I’d lost track of time again. Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” Percy says, stepping inside and shedding his jacket. “Annabeth’s running late, but she said she’d be here soon.”

He frowns, looking so much like Annabeth that it throws Percy for several loops. “Well, that’s alright,” he says. “I’m sure we can entertain ourselves well enough until she gets here.”

“Yeah,” Percy chuckles, uneasy.

Several seconds pass. 

“Oh!” starts Dr. Chase. “Right, yes. Come in. Would you like something to drink?”

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t get much better.

A few minutes of staggered conversation later, it becomes eminently clear why they need Annabeth between them. It’s not the awkward small talk that doesn’t go anywhere (“How’s school going for you?” “It’s okay.” “Good, that’s good to hear.”) or the fact that Dr. Chase doesn’t really grasp how to relate to younger kids (“Have you heard of this website called ‘Vine’?”), but more that it’s just painfully obvious that the two of them don’t really know where they stand with each other. 

Now, he knows that Frederick Chase doesn’t hate him. Objectively, he’s aware of the fact that, if it weren’t for him, Annabeth never would have reconnected with her father in the first place, and he kind of owes him for that. Also, Percy knows that he’s a pretty chill guy--a little scatterbrained, but chill. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to make a good impression, though. Or that Dr. Chase thinks that Percy is smart enough for his daughter. Because, like, Percy isn’t smart enough for Annabeth--that much is obvious. Dr. Chase was courted by Athena. Percy barely made it out of high school calculus.

“Would you…” Dr. Chase hedges, plucking off his glasses and giving them a quick wipe with his shirtsleeve. “Would you like to see some of my current research?”

“Uh… sure. I’d love to.” 

At the very least, hopefully Dr. Chase will talk enough for the both of them, eating up time until Annabeth gets here.

A new spring in his step, Dr. Chase leads Percy to his study, where he’s got a setup worthy of Cabin Six: on his desk is a massive map of the Mediterranean, littered with miniatures of tanks, planes, and ships. Ringing the room are wall-hangings, depicting different types of planes, half of their structure in x-rays like people in an anatomy textbook, sandwiching the giant viking sword which hangs directly behind his chair. Every inch of floor space is occupied with a pile of books, some serving as additional desk space for mugs, notepads, spare toy soldiers, and, in one case, what looks like the leftovers of a handful of celestial bronze spearheads, melted down into shiny, useless nuggets. 

“You know I primarily study aviation,” Dr. Chase is saying, tidying up as he walks around the room, “but my colleagues and I are collaborating on an interdisciplinary re-evaluation of the entire North African theatre in World War II. It’s fascinating stuff; until very recently, they used to call it the ‘war without hate,’ given the lack of partisan roundups and, ah, ethnic clashes that you see in Europe--absolute garbage, of course. As if there weren’t civilians caught up in the fighting, too!” He chuckles, pleased at his own joke. Percy forces a laugh out of himself. “Anyway, with my prior experience studying the invasion of Sicily, I was brought on to assist in piecing the timeline together, working backwards from 1943.”

“Cool,” says Percy, filling the natural gap of conversation.

“Extremely! Operation Husky was a terrific endeavor of airborne, amphibious, and land-based combat.”

Percy nods. Amphibious? “Uh-huh.”

“Though, I must admit, I am having a little trouble retracing some of the ships.” Peering over his map, he leans down, fiddling with one of the ships. “You see this one here? The Palmer?”

Stepping up to the desk, Percy crouches down so the little toy ship is at eye level.

“Well, based on official records, the Palmer was supposed to have arrived at the rendezvous point at the same time as all the other ships, but ended up delayed by two days, and I can’t… quite…” He moves the ship again, frowning. “Figure out… why…” 

“Where were they sailing through?” Percy asks. 

Dr. Chase points to the map. “From Alexandria to Malta.” 

“They probably just hit a bad couple of currents,” Percy says, standing up. 

Tilting his head, Dr. Chase peers at him. “How do you mean?”

“If you’re going through the Cretan Passage, you’re going to hit all kinds of West-East currents which will push you backwards.” Snatching up a pencil from a nearby book stack, Percy lightly sketches on top of the map, tracing along the North African coast. “There are tons of overlapping currents in this area that push boats around in circles, especially around Sicily. That’s one of the reasons why so many historians figure that Homer was referring to the Strait of Messina when Odysseus goes through Scylla and Charybdis, here.” And he circles the strait, with a confident flourish.

When he pulls back, Dr. Chase is staring at him.

Percy blinks. “Um… sorry I drew on your map.”

“You--I have been trying to figure that out for weeks.”

He coughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.”

But Dr. Chase just laughs. “You can make it up to me by helping me with these next.” Clearing crumbs off of southern France, he bends over, pencil in hand. “So, say you were trying to get from Marseilles to Tunis…” 

Forty-five minutes later, still embroiled in battle recreations of the Mediterranean theatre, they don’t hear Annabeth letting herself in with her key, not even registering her presence until Dr. Chase, grasping for a notebook, spots her leaning against the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh, Annabeth, dear! I’m sorry,” says Dr. Chase, going over to give her a hug. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“I can see that,” she says. “What are you guys doing?”

“Percy here has been assisting me with naval movements,” he says, proudly.

Lacing her fingers with his, Annabeth steps over to Percy, studying their battle map. “Really?”

“Oh yes, he’s been phenomenally helpful.”

She kisses his cheek, pleased. “Look at you, Mr. ‘Phenomenally Helpful.’”

“It was pretty fun,” he admits, warm all over.

“I’d bet. Although, I guess this means we should probably order in for dinner…?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Dr. Chase smiles. “Yes, I suppose we should. Does pizza sound all right to you two?”

“Let me take care of it,” she says, slipping from Percy’s side. “You guys looked like you were in the middle of something. Extra olives, dad?”

“Don’t forget--”

“And anchovies, Percy, I know.” She rolls her eyes, taking out her phone.

Rather than the three of them move into the kitchen, Annabeth ends up bringing the pizza in with her, because of course she has opinions she’d like to share about the Allies’ naval movements. 

“You know, Percy,” says Dr. Chase, “I must say, you have a real knack for this kind of thing. Have you thought about what you might major in yet?”

Ah, the million drachmae question. “Not yet,” he says, fiddling with a pencil. “I figured I’d get through my gen eds first and then see which one I hated the least.” 

“I think you should consider majoring in history.”

Percy’s head snaps up. “History?”

“Specifically maritime history, I suppose. Your predisposition to sailing and ocean currents would be a huge asset to your research.”

“But--wouldn’t history have, like, a metric ton of required reading? I’m not really sure that’s my area.” He has a daughter with dyslexia and ADHD; surely he’d understand Percy’s hesitation.

But he just shakes his head. “Graduate programs these days are very favorable towards interdisciplinary methodology, I sincerely doubt you’d have to barricade yourself in the library. And recently there’s been a significant push to make the field more accessible to students with disabilities, including things like digitization, screen reading for people with vision impairments, and even restructuring programs all together so that students no longer have to memorize the Encyclopedia Britannica in order to pass their general exams.”

“That’s really nice of you to say, Dr. Chase,” Percy says, “But history class isn’t like talking over naval movements with you.” He thought back to the paper that had lowkey been haunting his dreams. “Like, in my classical history survey, I can’t just… talk about currents and battle plans. I have to come up with a topic on my own, and then write about that.” 

“Surely something involving Roman naval movements would be well within your skill set. You have a second sense about these things,” he chuckles, “clearly.”

Percy glances towards Annabeth, hoping she’ll back him up, but she looks thoughtful. Considering. Like she’s actually thinking about her dad’s proposal. “I can’t just choose something in naval history.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it's too easy?” 

If it was anything like his afternoon with Dr. Chase, it might even be fun. And school isn’t supposed to be fun. 

He repeats that thought to Annabeth as they drive home. “School isn’t supposed to be fun.” 

“No,” Annabeth agrees, “but I don’t know… I like my intro art history class way better than anything we ever did in high school because I actually care about it. Maybe if you write about stuff you’re good at, like my dad suggested, you’ll like it more.” 

The idea follows him all the way to bed, where he’s still mulling it over at 2 in the morning. Before he can chicken out, he grabs his phone, shooting off a quick email to his professor with his potential paper topic, then rolls over, eventually falling asleep.

By morning, he has a response. 

Sounds good! Looking forward to it.

***

With shaking hands, Percy calls his mom. “Yes?” 

“Hey mom.”

“Percy?” He hears her perk up, almost visualizing her sitting up in her chair. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Mom instincts. They can always tell when something is different. His heart throbs in his chest. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, smiling stretching across his face. “It’s just--I got my paper back.” 

Percy had ended up writing his paper about the Roman navy movements in the Battle of the Aegates in 241 BC. It was probably the most fun he’s ever had on a school assignment, or at least the most fun he’d ever had writing a paper. 

“And?” She sounds expectant, hopeful. His mom has always had such faith in him, even with thirteen years of schooling to prove her otherwise. 

He looks back at his email, just to make sure he’s reading it right. “I got an A.”

She gasps. He can hear the scrape of the chair as she stands up. “Percy, that’s wonderful!” 

“Thank you.”

“An A!”

He smiles into his fist, inordinately pleased. “Thank you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so happy for you!”

“Thanks, mom.”

“I’m so proud of you, Percy.” Her voice is soft now, like twilights on the beach with blue marshmallows. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this. You should be very proud, too.”

“I am.” And he is, weirdly enough. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I can.” His mom must be grinning, her eyes sparkling. “I always knew you could do it.”

“Sally?” He hears in the background, muffled. “Is that Percy?”

“Paul, Percy got an A on his Roman history paper!”

A second voice crowds its way in, equally excited. “An A? That’s great, kiddo! Congratulations.”

Why can’t he stop smiling? “Thanks.”

“I bet that feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“Well, it is very well-deserved,” says Paul. “That was some great work you did. I could tell how passionate you were about your topic just from your first sentence.”

“Thank you.” Maybe he should be worried about all this praise going to his head, but damn, is it nice. “Listen, I have to go get started on dinner, but I just wanted to give you a call.”

“Of course,” says his mom. “I want to hear from you more, okay? Tell me more good news! Like when are you and Annabeth going to--”

“I’m working on it, okay?” says Percy, smiling even more broadly. “I’ll keep you posted, promise.”

She laughs, tinny and happy. “You’d better. Congratulations again, sweetheart.”

“Thanks mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

And he hangs up, puts his phone down on the table, tilts his head back, and sighs, full, happy, a release. 

Maybe college won’t be so bad after all. 

2)

“You don’t have to do this,” Frank says, hushed. “All you have to do is walk away.”

Five Greek Fire bombs, cloudy yellow, are lined up on the table in front of him, neatly laid out in front of five twenties. From the side, Frank stares him down, surrounded by an army of morbidly curious Romans. Someone turned off the music and turned on the lights a while ago, stopping the party in its tracks, every eye on Percy and his opponent. Figures, his first college party all year and he causes a scene. 

Percy grips the edge of the table. “He insulted the Mets,” he says for the millionth time. “I can’t let that shit stand.”

Frank sighs. “Annabeth?” he asks, hoping to stop this nonsense.

Turning to his side, Percy sees his girlfriend, two drinks in, her cheeks lightly flushed, but solid as she stands beside him, supporting him. Her eyes are hard, fierce, the warrior gaze of Athena all but leaping out of her. “Do it,” she says. 

William, the sour-faced Roman legacy of Juventus, scowls. “A hundred bucks on the table. Sixty seconds. No throwing them back up.”

“Deal.”

“Frank,” Annabeth calls. “Start the clock.”

He sighs. “You guys are idiots.”

“Frank!”

“Okay, okay.” He holds out his phone, thumb primed, hovering over the screen. “On your marks, in three… two… one…” 

He hits zero, and Percy grabs a shot glass. Squeezing his eyes shut, he brings it to his lips, and throws it back.

It’s… not what he expected.

The tequila is awful--no getting around that. Even to Percy’s untrained taste buds, having really only ever had some of Gabe’s sour beer (under duress) and some of the Demeter cabin’s strawberry wine (on his eighteenth birthday, a celebration for actually getting to graduate high school), he can tell it’s cheap, rank, unrefined shit, like he’s drinking straight toilet cleaner. But the garum, the weird Roman condiment that the shot is mixed with, the one that Percy had never heard of before, it’s… it almost tastes like the fish sauce that comes with the pork and rice noodles from the Vietnamese place down the corner of his mom’s apartment, only less… fishy? Yeah. Less fishy.

It’s a weird taste. It’s not bad, by any means, it just--straight up, it just tastes like saltwater. Like the sea. 

And, well. Percy can handle the sea.

He looks at William, and grins. “You are so fucked.”

The assembled Romans cheer, spectators at a gladiator show, as Percy knocks back the rest of the Greek Fire bombs, one after another, clearing them all in under thirty seconds. Annabeth swipes up the cash, shrieking as she throws her arms around Percy. William wanders off, red-faced and glaring, as whoever turned the music off before flips it back on, the night, and the party, saved.

Silly Percy. He should have known what was coming next.

Thirty minutes later, he is well and truly wasted.

“You’re, like, really pretty,” he shouts at Annabeth over the loud music.

She snorts, grinning at him. “Thanks.”

“Seriously,” he slurs, tipping forward on his feet. “You could be a model.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Remember when we were fourteen,” he yells, bracing himself against the wall, “and you got kidnapped by that monster?” Slightly soberer but still a little flushed, she bites her lip, nodding. “Well, I followed the rescue party--I told you that, that I snuck out of camp to follow the rescue party? Right?” 

“You did.”

He takes a sip of water, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Feels goofy as fuck. “We got hijacked by Aphrodite halfway through, and when I saw her, I thought--I thought, ‘Holy shit, she looks a little like Annabeth.’”

Her brows shoot up, smile pulling at her lips. “Really?”

He nods. “Totally! But you’re way, way p--” 

Still smiling, she silences him with a kiss, the lingering taste of hard cider on her tongue. “I appreciate it,” she murmurs, grinning, “but you probably shouldn’t say that out loud.”

“Gross.”

From out of nowhere, like he always does, the weasley little shit, Nico di Angelo is suddenly in their space, looking surly and emo as ever, red solo cup in his left hand. “Nico!” Percy crows, grabbing for him and missing. “How’s my favorite cousin?!”

Ducking his wildly swinging limbs, Nico grimaces in the way that Percy has to come to recognize as his attempt at a smile. “Better’n you,” he says, a little wobbly. “What’s up with him?” he directs towards Annabeth.

“Greek Fire bombs. Five.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“What!” Percy pouts. “He insulted the Mets.”

“Aren’t you s’posed to be, like…” Nico snaps his fingers, words momentarily escaping him. “A--representation… person? For the Greeks?”

Percy waves his hand, hitting the wall. “Fuck that. The Greeks can handle themselves. The Mets are sacred!”

“Are you with anyone?” Annabeth asks, momentarily taking up Percy’s usual role of concerned parent friend while he is drunk off his ass. Theoi, he loves this girl so much. 

Nico shakes his head. “No, but Will and I are staying with--”

A thought suddenly blooms in Percy’s tequila-soaked brain. “Nico!” He shouts.

“What?” he hisses, glaring.

Percy pushes himself off of the wall, outstretched arms managing to box Nico in, falling on his shoulders and trapping him. He’s still a short, skinny little shit, the fuck, when are his Big Three genes going to kick in? “I need to talk to you about the thing.”

“The what?”

“The thing! The--the,” then he leans in, scream-whispering over the pounding bassline. “The thing.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“You know, it’s…” Percy licks his lips, language escaping him for a hot second. “Round. Metal. Jewelry thing.”

A beat, then Nico’s eyes widen. “Oh, that thing.”

“Yes, that thing!” Pulling back, he pulls Nico towards him, slinging an arm over his shoulders in a half-headlock. Annabeth watches, bemused, lips pursed as she tries not to smile. “I need to borrow Nico for a sec,” he says, words spilling out of him. “Back soon. Later. Soon.”

Her eyes crinkle, grey sparkling. She’s so fucking pretty. “Drink your water.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Then together, like some three-legged beast, the two boys lurch away deeper into the party, Nico leading them towards the kitchen. “Where’re you taking me?” Percy slurs. “‘M I being kidnapped again?”

“If I’m helping you plan out this stupid proposal,” he grumbles, pouring himself more vodka, “then I need to be less sober.”

***

Some mistakes may have been made.

“Where’s Annabeth?” Percy mumbles, looking back towards the house. The party is still raging, someone’s muffled Spotify playlist making a real racket, the greatest hits of ABBA still bouncing around his skull.

“Simp.” Nico, swaying a little, tries to stand up from his kneeling position, only to fall heavily back down on his knees. “She’s right where you left her.”

Discussing Percy's proposal plan had led to more drinking. More drinking had led to the two of them discussing their shared preference for blondes. (“Malcolm is pretty cute,” Nico admitted, flushing, and Percy almost screamed, “Isn’t he?! Sometimes I think about Annabeth with short hair looking like Malcolm and I almost start crying because she’d be so cute!”) Which then led to even more drinking. Which then led to general bitching about their lives, about Percy's hard-ass classics professor Dr. Bauer who he actually really liked but just pushed him so hard and expected so much of him, and Nico's half-brother Zagreus who was causing some family drama by picking fights with Hades all the time and also hooking up with both Thanatos AND the fury Megaera, which, ew, which then led to Percy inhaling his drink, nearly choking to death on unspecified college punch, Nico laughing at him all the while, as he had the most incredible idea.

"Nico!" He shouted, crushing the red solo cup. "Can you resurrect Homer for me?"

Nico gaped, staring. "What."

"Seriously! I need to ask him something for my paper."

"Percy." Nico gazed at him, all the power of the Ghost King boring into his soul, deep and haunting. Percy stifled a burp. "You're a fucking genius."

Which is how they found themselves around a shallow hole they had dug in the backyard, a large bottle of Pepsi originally intended as a mixer pilfered from the kitchen along with two slices of pepperoni pizza dumped on the grass beside them.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," he says, uneasy even through his drunken haze.

"It was your idea!"

"I don't have good ideas."

“Fuck you, I’m doing it.” With all the force of a tiny, angry kitten, he snatches up the Pepsi bottle, wrestling with the twist cap for a good ten seconds. “I wanna give that bitch a piece of my mind for making me cry in school.”

Percy looks at him sideways. “Hector killing Patroclus got you, too?”

He snorts. “Fuck no. Achilles didn’t pay his dues to the dead.”

“Seriously?”

The cap pops off, and Nico tips the bottle over, dumping flat, lukewarm soda into the shallow hole. “It’s the ultimate dishonor!”

Freak. Percy would die for the kid.

“Let the dead taste again,” Nico mutters. “Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Says the guy who’s related to both horses and water.”

“I’m not related to water, I just control it.” 

The dirt turns black, dead soil mixed with sticky sugar water. Nico drops in the pizza, and begins to chant, that same ancient Greek that Percy heard in a dream once, talking of death and memories and returning from the grave or whatever. It’s still creepy as shit. 

Despite the warm California night, the air thickens with chilly fog. Silence, impenetrable, surrounds them, blocking out the noises of the party. From the earth, blueish, vaguely person-shaped figures begin to form, like thunderous clouds before a storm. “Which one is Homer?” he asks, hushed.

“Shh!” Nico hisses. 

Like little wells of gravity, the fog begins to coalesce. On one of them, Percy can almost make out, like, fingers. “Um, Mr. Homer? Sir?”

The figure doesn’t say anything. It lowers its mouth, drinking the soda out of the dirt. When it raises its head, Percy can see it more clearly, curly hair and milky white eyes and a straight nose. It--he?--seems a little more solid than your average run-of-the-mill ghost.

Nico frowns, eyes closed, concentrating. “What’s your name?” he mumbles. 

That mouth opens, soundlessly, jaw working on nothing.

“Speak.”

It--there’s a sound, like hissing, only it’s not coming from the mouth, Percy thinks. It sounds like it’s coming from the earth. “Nico?” he asks. “You good?”

The ghost opens its mouth again, moaning, raising its hands. Weakly, unsteadily, it stumbles forward on feeble legs, tripping over the shallow hole in the dirt.

“Nico?” he asks again, a little more forcefully. “What’s going on, dude?”

Nico blinks, slowly, mouth hanging open a little. “Uh.”

The… thing… raises itself up on its hands? He guesses, and knees, crawling its way over towards them.

Now, Percy may be drunk off his ass, but he has seen enough movies to know exactly what the fuck is up.

Moving with a speed he didn’t quite think was possible right about now, he grabs Nico’s wrist, and pulls him up, dragging him along as he lurches towards the house. “Percy…” Nico moans, stumbling over a rock. “I think I fucked up.”

“You think?” Percy wrenches the door open, tossing Nico inside, before following in after, throwing himself against the door. 

Nico groans, throwing his arms over his face. “Dio santo, my head.”

“Forget your head,” he says, “did we just raise a Homer zombie?!”

Panting, Nico stares up at him, sprawled on the floor of the house. “Oops.”

Percy thunks his head against the door. He does not have nearly enough mental capacity to deal with this right now.

But, he thinks ruefully, at least it’s just one. Even drunk, he’s pretty sure he can handle one zombie.

Nico’s eyes widen. 

Percy stares. “What.”

“I didn’t stop the ritual.”

His stomach goes cold.

Turning around slowly, he pulls aside the little curtain on the window. “What?” Nico asks. “What do you see?”

Percy can’t speak, mouth dry.

Slithering up behind, Nico peers over his shoulder. “That’s… not great.”

“Nico,” Percy says, eyeing the horde which slowly shambles closer, half-decayed bodies in togas bumping into each other, almost identical to the drunk college students inside, as the song changes, once again, to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight).’ “Please go get Frank and Annabeth.”

The following Monday, an announcement is sent out to the entire campus: Per new department guidelines, students may not utilize the ambassador of Pluto to interview the dead for academic purposes.

3)

Percy attempts to flatten his hair. He readjusts his shirt. He almost wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, before he realizes what he’s doing, and clenches them instead, nails digging into his palms. He turns to Annabeth. “Do I look okay?”

“Ooh, ‘Mapping Funerary Monuments in the Periphery of Imperial Rome.’”

“Annabeth.”

She looks up from her brochure. “Relax, seaweed brain, you look fine. You look better than most people here.”

“That’s because I bring down the average age of presenters by about thirty years,” he hisses, eyes darting about at the milling mass of attendees, all packed into the hotel ballroom. 

Dr. Bauer had alternately convinced/pressured/guilttripped him into attending this year’s annual conference for the Society of Classical Studies to talk about the research he’d been doing with her. This year, the conference was held in San Francisco, so at the very least Percy didn’t have to spend five hours stressing about his poster presentation while simultaneously up in the air. But now that he’s here, in the ballroom, surrounded by strangers who know way more about this subject than he does, who are actually smart and probably never nearly flunked out of school or got kicked out or--

“Hey.” Annabeth takes his hand. “I know that look. You deserve to be here just as much as any of them.”

“Do I? I feel like any moment someone is going to come over and throw me out for trespassing.” He vaguely recalls something similar happening to him as a kid after he had ducked into the lobby of a semi-nice hotel to dodge what he had thought, at the time, was just a weird stalker, but had later realized had only had one eye. In any case, the hotel security guard had practically picked him up by the scruff of his neck, tossing him back out into the street. 

“That’s just your imposter syndrome talking,” she reassures him. “No one is going to throw you out.”

He sure as shit hopes so. It would be a shame to have done all this work for nothing. 

Glancing back at his poster, Percy can’t help but feel… good. Accomplished. Proud. About a school assignment, of all things. 

His poster traces the development of the prow from the Greek penteconter, to the Roman liburna, and finally to the Byzantine dromon, looking at artistic depictions in history. Percy had picked the topic himself, spending hours in the library reading, writing, and hand-drawing cross-sections of the ships on the poster board when the images he had gotten from the Cambridge University library had been too small. It had been grueling, frustrating work, but fun, too. And not nearly as much reading as he had feared.

Dr. Chase proofread it for him. Dr. Bauer signed off on it. And Annabeth had taken one look at it, smiled, then kissed his cheek.

That was the best compliment he had gotten.

Though now he’s kind of torn between showing it off and hiding it away before one of these attendees figures out that he doesn’t belong.

He rocks back and forth and his feet, pursing his lips, randomly clicking his tongue. Annabeth nudges him. “Your ADHD is showing.”

That’s when, finally, one of the attendees steps up to his poster. He certainly has the look of a professor, in a black cable knit sweater with grey, curly hair and a receding hairline, thin, rimless glasses perched on his nose. He squints at Percy’s poster, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Interesting,” he murmurs, in a thick German accent. “Very interesting. This is yours?”

“Um.” He glances at Annabeth, who is frowning at the brochure, silently sounding out words that she can’t read. “Yep. All mine.”

“Very interesting.” He leans in closer, tilting his head. “So you agree with Pryor and Jeffreys about the skeleton-first construction, then?”

Percy blinks. Pryor and Jeffreys had written The Age of the Dromon, arguing that the ram, which had been a key feature of Roman liburnians, had gone away in ancient ship construction because of developments in how they built the hull. Right. “Yes,” he says. “The skeleton-first construction is a lot stronger than the, um,” shit, what was the name for this, Leo had only told him about a million times--oh! “Mortise-and-tenon!” He nearly shrieks. “The mortise-and-tenon method. It, um, it wears out a lot more quickly than the frame, so… yeah.” He clears his throat.

He nods. “Very interesting.” 

Percy stares. Can this guy say anything else? 

“This is very well done, young man.”

Oh. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Who are you working with?” 

“Um, June Bauer?” He winces at the accidental question. 

He frowns. “I’m not familiar with her work. Where does she teach?” 

What a loaded question. “Uh… New Rome University.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s--she used to teach at Northwestern, if that helps. Um, retired,” Percy says.

The frown stays, but at least he doesn’t ask any more questions. “Hmm. Well, this is excellent research, nonetheless. I look forward to reading your dissertation.” Then, distracted by something else, he wanders off, chin still attached to his hand. 

“Who was that?” Annabeth asks. 

Percy shrugs. “Beats me. Also, what’s a dissertation?”

“It’s like a senior thesis, but, like, five hundred pages long.”

Five hundred?! “Fuck me.” 

“Maybe later,” Annabeth smirks. “It looks like you’ve got company.”

Sure enough, a smallish group of four people are approaching, led by Dr. Chase, making a beeline straight for them. “Here we are,” Dr. Chase says, gesturing. “This is the project I was telling you about. Percy, would you mind going over your poster for us?”

“No problem, Dr. C,” says Percy, smiling his least-grimace-y smile. 

As one, the adults all turn to look at him, faces politely blank, expectant.

Percy swallows. “So,” he begins, “um, this research is about the development of ship construction in the Roman empire…”

He trips up on some of the words, and at one point, he sees Dr. Chase squint in the way that usually means that Percy is speaking too fast, but all in all, he doesn’t totally fall flat on his face. His audience looks engaged, nodding along as Percy moves from point to point, and no one accuses him of being a giant fraud, which is pretty nice. 

At one point, Percy turns to the poster to indicate a specific point on his ship diagrams. When he turns back, his audience has suddenly multiplied, four people turning into a whole goddamn crowd. Each person gives him their undivided attention almost unblinking.

His mouth goes dry. “Um…” 

Dr. Chase, bless him, saves his ass once again. “Would mind starting again from the beginning, Percy?” he asks, a little bemused himself at the amount of people that had suddenly appeared. 

Silence stretches on for a moment, the muffled noise of the rest of the conference like a dull roar in his ear. 

Annabeth, behind him, coughs. 

“S-sure. No problem.” 

Swallowing, he closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose. Why, oh why did he let Dr. Bauer talk him into doing this again?

He pictures the tides of Long Island Sound, gentle and rocking, unhurried and unbothered, tries to match his breathing to them. When he opens his eyes, unfortunately, the crowd hasn’t disappeared. Everyone is still staring at him. 

But Annabeth stands next to her dad, flashing him a big smile and two huge thumbs up.

Percy relaxes. He’s got this.

“Okay,” he says. “So, about the middle of the first millennium CE, ship construction went through a couple of major developments…”

This time goes much, much more smoothly. He’s not sure what it is--though it’s probably Annabeth, her face fixed in a gentle smile as she watches him speak. Gods, what did he do in a past life to deserve someone as amazing as his girlfriend? 

That’s the only reason he can do this. Hell, that’s the only reason he even thought to do this. If he didn’t have Annabeth there, encouraging him, cheering him on, he never would have had the confidence to put himself out there like this. She’s there to pick him up when he doubts himself, there to listen when he can’t explain himself, there to give him feedback when he needs to practice. 

She makes him feel so strong. She makes him feel like he can take on the world--or at the very least, that he can impress a handful of academics.

And they certainly seem impressed with his talk so far. 

“Excuse me,” says a nasally, pinched looking older British guy, face lined as though he lived his life in a state of perpetual squinting. “I find your conclusions to be suspect--wouldn’t the frame method be more susceptible to breaking than the mortise-and-tenon?”

Well, most of them, anyway.

Percy shakes his head. “You’d think, but no. If you look at the study by Steffy, you’ll see that the three-finned ram from the Athlit wreck was designed specifically to break the mortise-and-tenon hull by causing the planks to flex, so that they’d dislodge the joinerys right next to them. A blow like that can cause the wood to split right down the middle.” A blow like that had sunk Sherman Yang’s ship when they tested it out on the lake at camp last summer, the naiads practically hurling him out of the water so quickly Percy didn’t even have to dive in to save him.

“How were you able to do these strength tests?” asks another listener, an older woman with a thick Hungarian accent.

“Hands-on battle simulations,” Percy replies, easily. “We took our models and tested them in as accurate a simulation as we could make.”

“And how big were these models?” 

Percy holds his hands apart, a vague, entirely inaccurate estimate. “About thirty meters, give or take.”

Her eyes widen. “How on earth did you get your hands on such a large ship?”

Percy freezes. “Uh.”

Oh, shit.

He had forgotten--most people didn’t have dads who could summon shipwrecks from the bottom of the sea, dropping them off at Camp Half-Blood with nothing but a sand dollar and one or two exhausted, pissed off hippocampi who had had to drag them all the way there.

“Um,” he stammers, licking his lips, thinking fast--c’mon, Percy, think! “I…” He swallows, panicking. “I… b… built one.”

In the corner of his eye, Annabeth facepalms.

Simultaneously, every mouth in the crowd drops--in shock, outrage, and even excitement. “You built one?!” the woman yelps. 

Oops. “I had help,” Percy says, quickly. 

Annabeth adds a second hand to her facepalm.

“Where?” The first man asks, his bushy brows flying above the rim of his glasses.

“At my… summer camp…” 

Dr. Chase sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I mean,” Percy chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, trying not to sweat too obviously, “it was either that or lanyards, am I right?”

Dr. Chase, thank Athena, raises his hand, ready to step in. “What Percy means to say, I believe,” he says, attempting to draw their attention, “is that--”

“That’s amazing!” says another woman, probably a grad student attendee based on the fact that she’s wearing jeans. “Do you have pictures?”

Oh this is not good. “Um, not--not on me, but--”

“I do.” Annabeth takes out her phone, holding it up to the person next to her.

Percy blinks. “You do?” He doesn’t remember her taking any pictures.

She shoots him a look, two parts exasperated and one part “shut up and let me handle this,” with just a dash of fondness in the mix. Pointedly, she looks at him, eyebrows raised, indicating that he should continue.

Oh. She’s using Mist. And he needs to keep their attention on him so that they buy it. “Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Any more questions?” 

His audience placated for now, passing around Annabeth’s phone, he manages to finish up his presentation. After fielding a few more questions, people start to peel off, distracted by other posters and presenters in the ballroom. When everyone has finally wandered away, Dr. Chase comes up and pats Percy’s shoulder awkwardly. “Nice work,” he says, and he seems like he means it. “A little touch-and-go there for a while, hm?”

“A little.”

He chuckles. “Still, you should be proud. I don’t know how many undergraduates would be able to handle that kind of pressure.”

“I mean,” Percy says, shrugging a shoulder, “it’s about on par with leading an army. Maybe a little less.” Honestly, maybe even a little more stressful. If a monster had decided to attack the convention center and interrupt his presentation, he probably would have been relieved.

He’d been worried for a moment that he’d undone all those years of work in making Annabeth’s dad like him. And that he’d be charged with some sort of academic fraud, for the whole “I have a boat” thing without proof. Thank the gods for Annabeth, as always.

She’s looking at him now through narrowed eyes. She at least can’t be surprised--that was far from the dumbest thing she’s ever seen him do. At least his “I spent most of my time at magic greek mythology summer camp” covers are normally better than hers. As someone who spent his formative years in the real world, he’s usually pretty good at keeping the demigod thing under wraps. 

“Come on,” she says, grabbing his hand. She pulls him off, through the dispersing crowd, lacing their fingers together, sweet and intimate, out of the hall and then down another one, and through a smaller corridor. Bringing them up to a little door, with a shake of her wrist, she pulls out her Estruscan keyring bracelet. About several of the keys have found themselves used in various misadventures, vanishing once their purpose is fulfilled, but her favorite key is still there. And, just like a clever child of Hermes, it can pick just about any lock. 

Inside is just an empty room, a little staging area surrounded by tiered desks going up, no more or less remarkable than any of the other conference rooms they’d visited before. 

“What--?” His question is cut off by Annabeth’s mouth on his. 

Surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

It's a while before they separate again. “You’re so good at this,” she tells him, unbuttoning his shirt.

He runs his hands along the lines of her flanks. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he grins. He’d practice kissing her all day long if he could. 

She smiles, shaking her head. “No, not this,” though she does lean in for another kiss, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. “I know you’re good at this.” They break away, Percy pulling her shirt over her head, Annabeth shucking off his. “But history. Presenting.” She runs a finger over his chest, kissing his cheek, headed towards the sensitive spot on his jaw. “Gods, you’re so smart.” 

Something about the praise vibrates through his chest. She doesn’t sound surprised, or anything, just--turned on.

“You had all those crusty academics eating out of your hand. Just, so impressed by you, knowing you know way more than they do about naval history. When you were explaining the--” Her compliment is cut off with a moan, as he leans down and starts sucking on her throat. Her blouse has a high neck, so he feels no guilt for using his teeth.  

“Watching you today, gods.” Her breath is labored as his fingers play at the waistline of her skirt. “And then thinking of you defending your dissertation.” He bites at her jugular, and she lets out a long, deep moan. 

“I don’t know what that means.” Do academics fight each other? Like, with weapons? He’s pretty sure he can take most of the people he met today. 

“It means you get to show off how smart you are,” Annabeth says, grasping his shoulders, pulling him in for another kiss. “I was born the day my dad defended his. Gods, it's going to be amazing to watch you go.” She yanks his belt out of his pants, tossing it to the floor. 

They miss the panel on recent translation efforts. But Percy can’t say he minds one bit. 

And when Annabeth presents him with a positive pregnancy test two months later, Percy definitely knows he made the right decision. 

4) 

He almost doesn’t realize he’s having a dream-vision at first.

It has been literal years since he’s had a demigod dream. Hell, it’s been a long while since he’s had a dream, period--being a new dad to a one-and-a-half-year-old saps too much of his energy to even think about dreaming. Once Junie is put to bed, when he’s out, he is fucking out, and he does not have the brainpower to spare to manifest any messed up subconscious fears.

Which is why when he blinks open his eyes, taking in the too-bright colors of the Parthenon and the gleaming shine of the bronze statues which are somehow all looking at him--also, you know, how the Parthenon is complete, standing as it did thousands of years ago, and not crumbled into ruins--he knows, immediately, he is being contacted by a god.

And only one god in particular would bring him to Athens.

Without even checking, he heaves himself up off the ground, folding into a kneel. “My lady Athena,” he says, “can I ask for what quest you’ve brought me here?”

“Impertinent as ever, Percy Jackson,” rumbles the goddess, but Percy doesn’t think he can sense any ill will towards him. He hopes, anyway. “Perhaps I have summoned you here for a social visit.”

“Perhaps,” he says, choosing his next words as carefully as possible. “But I assume you have too much to worry about to randomly check up on your daughter’s boyfriend.”

He lifts his head, catching her expression--stoic as always, but maybe with just the barest hint of a smile. “You assume correctly. You have become, contrary to my initial expectations, very wise in the time that I have known you.”

“Thank you.” He knows better than to do anything but accept the compliment for what it is.

“I have observed your work as a scholar in recent years, and I must say that I am surprised, yet pleased, that you have chosen to pursue such a path. I had not thought you to be suited for a world of old men and dusty papers.”

He grits his teeth. Don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait--

“I understand, as well, that though you and my daughter have,” and here her careful composition cracks, just the slightest, the tiny lift of her lips falling, “made a child together.”

Percy swallows. He figured, you know, in the abstract, that Athena would know about Junie, but hearing her say it out loud is… well, he’s just glad that Dr. Chase has always liked him. “Yes, my lady.”

“It is customary in your time to marry prior to childbirth, is it not?”

“It is.” Oh, fuck, is she going to smite him for that? “I--that is to say, we, Annabeth and I, we, um, we definitely want to get married, but, Annabeth kind of…” 

He trails off. He can’t tell Athena, goddess of war, that his daughter pissed off the queen of heaven! And if he does, he definitely can’t imply that it was because she was being too stubborn!

“I know well of my daughter’s history with my father’s wife,” Athena says, smoothly. “I come to you now with an offer of peace.”

Percy straightens his back. Peace?

Raising one graceful arm, Athena turns, indicating the structure behind her. “Look upon my temple,” she intones. The white marble shines even more powerfully against the blue and red paint, intricate scenes and figures ringing the top of the columns. “In the time of Pericles, it was built to commemorate the victory of Hellas over the armies of Xerxes the Great. It was to be the shining beacon of our world, a triumph of our power and influence over the race of men.”

The race of men might have had something to say about that, he thinks to himself.

“But it was not to be,” Athena says, mournfully. “As our influence waned, so too did our temple, until its might was all but forgotten.” 

Before his eyes, the paint fades away, ceilings and columns collapsing, the destruction of the Parthenon playing out in front of him. 

“Some two hundred years ago,” she says, her voice taking on a darker, more dangerous tone, “a grave insult was paid to the ruins of my ancient sanctuary.” Like curtains falling on a stage, darkness swallowed up the structure, swift and impenetrable. “Many treasures were taken from my temple, stolen, by foolish, greedy men, spirited away far to the north, where they have languished in unworthy hands.”

He narrows his eyes. She can’t possibly be talking about--

Athena turns back to him, her eyes blazing, somehow twice as tall. “Retrieve my treasures,” she commands, war personified, “return the prizes of Athens to their rightful place, and I shall give you my support against my father’s wife.”

“You…” Percy leans back on his haunches, staring dumbfounded up at the goddess. “You don’t happen to mean the Parthenon Marbles, do you?”

“Yes.”

“The ones in the British Museum.”

“The same,” she says, imperious as ever.

Fantastic. “Welp,” Percy says, slapping his thighs, scrambling up. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to decline. Nice seeing you, by the way. I’ll tell Annabeth you stopped by.”

Her sharp gazes pierces him, full of fury. “You dare to refuse my support?”

He snorts. “When it means trying to get the UK to give the marbles back, absolutely. Do you know how stubborn they are about this?”

Lightning flashes behind her, nearly blinding him. “You will regret this,” Athena says, dark and foreboding. “You may have your father’s goodwill, but the queen of Olympus is clever and cunning, her displeasure swift and merciless.”

But Percy still shakes his head. “When Annabeth and I get married,” and it’s definitely a ‘when,’ it’s just a matter of when precisely, like after Junie can sleep through the night maybe, “I’d rather take my chances with Hera than try and untangle that particular can of olives.”

A growl, and a snap of her fingers, and Athena disappears.

With a start, Percy wakes up. Junie had gotten her chubby little hands around his nose, and had decided to pull.

“Ow, ow, Junie, hey,” he squawks, attempting to dislodge her grip from his face. “Hey, I’m awake, it’s okay.”

She laughs, illegally adorable, her grey eyes sparkling, squeezing harder. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs along with her. “You got my nose, you win.”

As if she were waiting for him to admit defeat, she lets go, clapping her pudgy toddler hands together. 

“That’s right,” he picks her up, raising her above his head. “Barely sixteen months old and you already know how to take me down, don’t you? Just like your mommy.”

She smiles, waving her little fists.

Gods he loves this little monster.

Junie really is the best parts of both of them. She’s got her daddy’s hair but her mommy’s brain, quick and sharp and painfully adorable. She’s already learning to read Greek, Annabeth sitting her in her lap and sounding out vowels together, Annabeth taking her finger and tracing it over the letter shapes. This kid absorbs information like a sponge, which Percy can only assume is the natural conclusion of taking a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Athena and mixing their DNA together. 

Thinking about his dream, he frowns. “What do you think, Junie,” he asks his toddler. “Should I take her up on her offer?”

The baby says nothing.

“I mean,” he tilts his head, “Greece has been trying to get the marbles back for two hundred years. UNESCO has top lawyers on this. What does Athena think I can do?”

Junie blinks at him.

“On the other hand, I do really love your mom,” he admits, “and I really want to marry her. You’d like that, right? To have your parents be married?”

There’s no way she can understand what he’s saying, but she moves her head like she’s nodding. Or maybe she does understand. She is Annabeth’s daughter after all. 

Percy sighs. Dammit.

Time for a new project, he guesses.

***

Several months, a college graduation, and one relocation to Boston later, Percy growls, hurling his pencil at the wall. Mother fucker. Fuck the British Museum, fuck his tiny laptop screen, and fuck the Italian prick who decided to have the least ADHD-friendly handwriting of all time. 

Why the hell is he doing this again? Like, seriously. Why in all of Hades is he, an inexperienced, snot-nosed, first year master’s student deciding to tackle the return of the fucking Parthenon marbles of all things. Like, what is wrong with him? 

Roughly scrubbing his fingers through his hair, Percy stands up. He has to go for a walk, clear his head, or he might actually explode. 

Then he catches a glimpse of the photo pinned to the fridge.

Percy’s mom had taken it, a candid of Percy and Annabeth and Junie on a sunny day in Central Park. There, in perfect 1080p, Junie is laughing, at what he can’t even remember, her pudgy fists yanking on Percy’s hair, while her mother and the love of his life does nothing to extricate Percy from her grip, her face screwed up so hard she had tears in her eyes. 

Percy had talked a lot of shit to the goddess of war’s face, but truth be told… Hera still terrifies him a little. Which, he assumes, was her goal all along, but it would be nice to marry Annabeth without fear of something going terribly wrong--or, gods forbid, something happening to Junie. That simply was not a risk he was willing to take. Percy is content to spend the rest of his days as Annabeth’s life-partner and roommate, if it means that the queen of the heavens won’t have a reason to take out her issues on his children.

Even if the engagement ring in the back of the pantry is gathering dust. 

Sunlight, wan but warm, falls in from the window, landing perfectly on his pile of open books. “I know, I know,” he growls, speaking to the air, rubbing his face so it doesn’t get stuck in a permanent glare. “I just--I just need a few minutes, okay? Let me go down the block and get a coffee or something. Two minutes, Lady Athena.”

The light fades. Percy takes that as an acquiescence, angrily scribbling a note. He’s not sure when Annabeth and Junie will be back, but even angry as he is, he doesn’t want to worry them.

Snatching up his jacket, he slams the door shut, stomping out of his apartment building and down the streets of Boston. He must be accidentally doing his wolf stare, because people are practically flinging themselves out of his path as he hurtles down the sidewalk. Literally--some girl is walking her husky, and the poor dog actually whimpers, cowering as Percy rounds the corner. 

Coming to a stop, Percy slaps his hands over his face, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. 

He might be in over his head a little.

Sighing, he looks to his right. He’s standing outside of a Starbucks. 

Percy doesn’t drink coffee, Annabeth does. And he knows exactly how much of a coffee snob his girlfriend is. Starbucks? Overpriced, overrated, over-sweetened garbage.

He pushes the door open, sliding up to the counter. “I’ll take a… iced mocha, I guess,” he says. “Large.”

“No problem,” chirps the barista. “I’ll have that out for you in a minute.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

One thing Starbucks does have going for it, though, are really good napkins for doodling.

Slumping down in his uncomfortable metal chair, elbows resting on the hard, faux-wood table, Percy takes out his pen, and doodles aimlessly on the brown napkins. No, not that pen. Just because it can write doesn’t mean that Percy wants to risk slicing his face open every time he has a stray idea. Completely out of the blue, Annabeth had gotten him a nice set of pens, and ever since then, Percy always keeps one on him. Now, if he could just remember to use the little notebook she had gotten him, too.

Percy is not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. He doesn’t have an image in mind, just lets his pen move, drawing endless chains of triangles and stars, nebulous shapes which form themselves into Greek letters. After he catches himself writing γλαυκῶπις for the eighth time in a row, he sighs, dropping his pen, and picks up the cup, taking a sip.

Yuck. At least the chocolate outweighs the coffee taste a little.

Gods, and their cups are always, like, drenched from condensation--not that Percy can feel it, but there’s practically a whole other drink on the outside of the plastic, dripping all over Percy’s pile of doodle napkins. That must be why they give out so many.

Grumbling, he mops up the mess, ink smudged into a blue-brown slurry.

He stops. 

He squints at one of his doodles. 

Not that anyone else could tell, but Percy had apparently been trying to recreate the signature of Ottoman sultan Selim III, the guy who had supposedly authorized the Earl of Elgin to take the Parthenon Marbles. Percy had been staring at copies of his signature all damn day, trying to tell if it had been forged or copied, but classical Arabic was just so far beyond anything he could even begin to wrap his head around. It was gorgeous work, but even looking at it made Percy’s eyes swim.

This particular doodle is not his best attempt. It looks nothing like the signature. It’s smudged, blotchy, but in a way that’s… weirdly familiar. 

Snatching the napkin up, Percy bolts from the Starbucks, leaving his mocha behind.

Taking the steps of his apartment building two at a time, he bursts into his kitchen. His set up is exactly how he left it, books spread out all over the table, laptop shut and laid askew, the dry, half-eaten remains of his morning muffin on a plate on top of his encyclopedia of illuminated manuscripts--except for one book, the one on Ottoman history of the nineteenth century. It’s been opened, its pages facing the door, in the exact opposite direction of all the other books. 

“Hello?” he calls into the apartment. “Anyone home?”

No response. 

Percy approaches the table. 

From the pages, Selim III stares at him, his portrait rendered in black and white, sitting just above a figure of his signature, his tughra. 

Percy picks up the book, squinting. 

The signature is crisp, clean, a work of art all by itself. 

He looks at his napkin drawing. Blurry and smudged.

Opening his laptop, he pulls up the scans of the documents in the British museum, zooms in on the letter’s seal.

Blurry and smudged.

Percy stares. 

It… can’t be that simple, can it?

In a daze, he fires an email off to his new grad advisor. Hopefully he won’t mind Percy sticking his nose in where he doesn’t belong. Hey Dr. T--was looking at the Parthenon marbles docs in the BM (don’t ask) and I noticed this weird smudge on the tughra. Lazy scribe, maybe?

And he closes his computer.

Later that night, while he puts Junie to bed, he gets a response. not sure. sent it to a colleague for a closer look. 

He can’t even be bothered to really think about it though, not with Junie looking up at him with Annabeth’s eyes, and asking for another book. “Alright, kiddo,” he acquiesces, settling in beside her. All her story books are in ancient Greek, and at age two, she’s starting to recognize the letters. “Which one are you thinking?” 

“Daw-fins, daddy,” she says, smiling.

“Dolphins, eh? Getting Mr. D on your side early, I see. As smart as mommy.” He leans down and kisses her forehead before he starts to read her the story of the sailors and their sudden dolphin madness. 

***

“Huh,” Percy says to himself a few weeks later, as he and Annabeth are chilling on the couch, watching some Netflix.

His advisor has forwarded him an article from the BBC (New evidence suggests Elgin documents to be forgeries) with an accompanying note: Amazing catch! 

“What is it?” Annabeth asks, nudging him with her elbow--a feat, since she also has an armful of a squirmy Junie to deal with.

“Update in the Parthenon marbles thing.”

That gets her attention. Anything Parthenon-related does. “Really?”

He shows her his phone.

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Damn.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he feels his lips pulling at the sides of his mouth. 

“My mom is probably your biggest fan right now.”

He starts. “What did you say?”

Turning back to the TV, she still manages to cast him a weird look. “I said, my mom will probably love you for this.”

A beat, then Percy practically somersaults over the couch, darting into the kitchen. Wrenching open the pantry door, he shoves his hand behind their collection of flours, fingers grasping for--

“If you’re looking for any more sacrificial cookies,” Annabeth calls after him, “we burned them all when Junie got a cold.”

“Remind me to make some more,” says Percy, pulling out his prize. It’s a little dusty, streaks of flour clinging to the blue velvet. “I have a feeling we’ll need them.”

“Oh yeah?” She chuckles. “What, did Olympus put in a special order?” 

Percy slides back down next to her, ring hidden in his closed fist. “Can I have the baby for a sec?”

Eyes fixed to the screen, Annabeth passes her over. Junie’s hands automatically reach for his nose, ready to grab, but Percy places the ring in her grasp instead, kissing her forehead. “Hey, babe?” he asks Annabeth, handing her back. “I think our daughter has something for you.”

Annabeth takes her without a second glance. 

Then she does take a second glance.

Ring closed in her pudgy toddler fist, Junie holds it out to her.

Annabeth gapes. 

“So,” Percy says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “quick confession: I wasn’t just working on the marbles for fun.”

Annabeth just stares. Junie babbles.

“Your mom told me that if I helped get the marbles back, she’d back us against Hera if we ever got married. So…” He trails off, waiting for her response. As close as he is, he can see the tears start to well up in her eyes--a good sign. “Shall we?” he prompts.

“Oh thank all the gods.” Annabeth is crying, because she's Annabeth. And because she's Annabeth, she also wastes no time in transferring Junie to her other side, and holding out her hand so Percy can slide the ring on her finger. “I was so worried I'd have to have Chase on my Masters’ diploma, too.”

5)

Percy is making sauce when his phone lights up. He hits speaker. “Hey.”

“Hey man,” comes the tinny voice of Magnus. “Sorry I missed your call earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy says, “I figured you were dying or something.”

Magnus’ eye roll is almost palpable. “Very funny. What’s up?”

Bringing the spoon to his lips, he blows on it, taking a taste, before reaching for the salt. Needs way more. “Do you happen to have any Varangian guards in Hotel Valhalla?”

“Varangian guards? Uh, maybe. Probably. Why?”

“I’m doing a thing on the attempted reconquest of Sicily,” he says, lowering the heat a little to a simmer, “and I’m having some trouble piecing together the Battle of Montemaggiore. Know anyone who was in it?” 

Magnus hums. “I’ll ask around. Anyone in particular you’re looking for?”

Rifling through their little spice cabinet, he makes a mental note to get a new thing of hot sauce, tipping the rest of it into the pot. “If you have anyone who fought under Harald Hardrada, that would be great.”

“Hardrada? I’m pretty sure he lives on the fifth floor.”

Percy nearly drops the bottle. “No shit?”

“Big dude, long mustache, writes poetry?”

“Yes!” He picks up the phone, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you think I could come up and talk to him sometime?”

“Sure, but I thought you were doing something on Homer’s identity?”

He groans. “Backburnered for now until she stops driving me crazy.” No matter how many times Percy tells her, he can’t just drop the “Homer was actually an Egyptian woman” bomb without some serious evidence backing that up. And forgery is not one of his strong suits. Hence the need for a different topic for the time being.

“Has everyone ever told you your life is weird?”

“No, why do you ask?”

His phone suddenly vibrates, shocking him so badly he nearly drops it into the saucepan. Almost home, texts the love of his life, a shot of serotonin directly into his bloodstream. V hungry

“Sorry, Magnus, but I gotta run. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. Say hi to my cousin for me.”

“Can do.”

“And make sure you pick a date soon! Sam needs to know so she can schedule her flight home.”

“Soon as I can.” You know, when his brain isn’t melting from grading undergrad papers. And making sure Annabeth and Junie are fed. And that Annabeth doesn’t lose herself in graduate school. And finding Junie a new preschool after she destroyed a classroom last month because of a monster. His toddler is a badass. But he’s a little worried she’s gonna follow Mommy and Daddy’s example as far as school goes. 

Sometimes, he thinks that their wedding just won’t ever happen. With Athena on board, he figured it would happen sooner or later, but time just… keeps getting away from them. Which isn’t the end of the world. A lifetime at Annabeth’s side is all he really needs, Mrs. Jackson or no. But he’s seen the silver fabric she weaved for her wedding dress. It would be a shame for all that hard work to go to waste.

And, yeah, he wants to see his little Junie dancing down the aisle flinging seaweed before her mother. He wants his mom to cry a little and he wants all his friends to be there to celebrate with them. Is that so much to ask? 

Speaking of his two favorite girls--”We’re home!” Annabeth calls from the hallway. “Junie, go say hi to daddy!”

Her bare feet slapping against the floor, his daughter comes toddling in, making a beeline for him. “Hey, kiddo,” Percy says, scooping her up. “How’s my best girl?”

“She’s just fine, thanks,” Annabeth says, setting her work bag down on the table. “Tell me I don’t have to wait for dinner--Margie kept me for the entirety of my lunch break, and I am starving.” 

“Just gotta make a salad and we should be good to go.” But he makes no move to finish chopping vegetables, entirely too enraptured with the way Junie smiles when Percy sticks his tongue out at her. “Let me guess,” he says. “Does my best girl want some olives?”

“Peas,” Junie says. 

“Oh, you want peas instead?”

She giggles, waving her arms. “Elaia, daddy!”

“Fine,” and he kisses her nose. “Extra olives for you.”

“Chip off the old block,” Annabeth says.

Handing her back to her mother, Percy sighs. “When am I going to get a kid who likes anchovies?”

“I’m doing my best here, okay?”

***

Hardrada is… not what he expected.

“Reputation isn’t that bad.” Hardrada is saying. “The production isn’t what it should be, but lots of her lyrics are still on point.” 

“The production ruins it,” Percy insists. “And as a follow up to 1989? It's just bad.” 

“And what about Lover?”

“What about Lover?”

“You can’t argue with the genius of that one.”

“It is terribly inconsistent,” Percy shoots back. “Yeah, ‘The Archer’ and ‘Daylight’ and ‘Miss Americana’ are sublime, but ‘ME!’? Come on!”

“Are you one of those people who thinks she peaked at Red?”

“Red is a bop from start to finish,” Percy fires back. “But she definitely peaked at folklore.”

“Thinking she peaked at folklore is just pedestrian when ‘tis the damn season’ exists!” Hardrada yells, drawing his axe, which is then promptly flung over Percy’s head. 

As the only mortal in a room full of armed, excitable, undead Taylor Swift stans, Percy beats a hasty exit, Magnus and Jason covering him as he flees, because they’re just so thoughtful like that. Percy’s pretty sure he saw Magnus take an arrow to the knee, going down in a heap, before he shuts the door to the hotel, finding himself in a Forever 21. 

Looking over his notes later as he gets back to his apartment in the North End, he frowns. They had spent… approximately twenty minutes talking about Sicily before getting solidly off track. Who knew an eleventh century viking would have such intense feelings about pop music? 

And now he’s singing “seven” to himself as he unlocks the apartment door, because it's a good song, and because it made him think of Annabeth. And he always wants to think of Annabeth. 

“Hey, babe,” he calls into the apartment, toeing off his shoes. “I’m back!”

He gets no response.

Percy looks up, confused. “Annabeth?”

“In the bathroom,” he hears, faintly. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yep! Totally fine!” she says, unconvincingly. 

“Alright,” he calls back. “Let me know if you need something.”

Moving Junie’s toys out of the way, he drops down onto the couch, grabbing his laptop. Hopefully he can make some sort of sense of the… notes… that he got from Hardrada. Though he’s probably going to have to trek out to Beacon Hill again, which, while not really out of his way, does mean he has to hike a bit from the Park Street station through the Commons, which makes him super sweaty and out of breath. It’s just embarrassing, walking into a hotel full of the greatest warriors of Valhalla, and Percy can barely handle a hill. 

However, he’s not so out of practice that he can’t sense Annabeth coming up behind him. “You good?”

“What do you think about getting married by the end of the month?”

“Sure,” he says, pecking at his computer. Damn autocorrect ruining all the Norse names. He keeps forgetting to download the right language package he needs. “But I thought you wanted to wait until after you turned in your portfolio?”

“Well… I might not be able to fit in my dress if we wait much longer.”

That gets his attention.

Percy turns around, slowly. Annabeth is grinning, holding a thin little piece of plastic with a circle on the end. She wiggles it. 

“Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

Her smile falls. “Are you mad?”

“What? No!” Percy slides his computer off his lap, twisting around to face her, up on his knees. “No, no, not at all. I’m not mad.” She slings her arms around his neck, pregnancy test warm against his skin. “I just…” 

Eyes warm, she looks into his, unafraid. “What is it?”

“It’s…” It’s silly, is what it is. But this is Annabeth. If he can’t tell her, who can he tell? “I just feel bad that I’ve gotten you pregnant twice before getting married.”

“Well, at least I’m not nineteen this time,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “But maybe we wouldn’t have this problem if you weren’t such a horndog.”

Percy snorts. “Me? What about you, Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before my first lecture’ Chase.”

“Jackson,” she corrects.

“Huh?”

“It’s Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before your first lecture’ Jackson.”

Grinning, he presses his mouth to hers. After all this time, she still smells like lemons, her lips soft and warm. “Not yet it’s not.”

“Then let’s make it happen.”

And, well, Percy can’t think of a better plan.

+1

Jamie hisses. “Fuuuuuck,” she whispers, the sound dropping like a stone in the dead lecture hall. “Goddamn shit fuck ass.”

And the worst part is, she’d actually spent a lot of time preparing for her Latin midterm. She’d made flashcards, she’d drilled noun endings, she’d even slept with the textbook under her pillow for fuck’s sake. 

Typical--the moment she sits down to take the test, it all goes out the window. 

“Legistne carmen longum de Troiano,” she reads under her breath, as though saying it out loud will unlock some hidden secrets of the cosmos. 

Nope. Nothing. The multiple choices remain as inscrutable as ever.

“Psst.” 

Jamie looks up. 

There’s a four year old staring at her. 

“Hi,” Jamie says. 

“Hi,” says the four year old. Junie, her name is, she thinks. 

Mr. Jackson, Jamie’s Latin TA, will bring his kids to class with him sometimes--his wife works full time, and Jamie guesses that they can’t afford a babysitter. She’s a cute kid, quiet, usually sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, drawing or even knitting, sometimes with her little sister playing with toy ships next to her. 

Now, she’s still staring at her. “What’s up?” Jamie asks.

“Bello,” says Junie.

Jamie blinks. “Sorry?”

“Legistne carmen longum de bello Troiano.” 

She squints down at her test sheet, attempting to visualize her flash cards. That’s… “Bello” is the right answer.

The fuck? The fucking four year old can speak Latin? “Thanks,” she whispers. 

Junie beams at her.

Darting her eyes to the front of the lecture hall, Jamie spies her professor, Buck, completely conked out at his desk, his chest rising and falling with his snores. Percy is nowhere to be seen, his laptop open at his chair. “What’s the next one?” Jamie turns her paper so that Junie can see better.

“Pluto Proserpinam infelicem cepit,” she announces, perfectly accented.

Jamie points to the one after that.

“Rex qui pontem fecit erat Ancus Martius.”

“Awesome.” 

The door to the lecture hall opens. Jamie whips around in her seat, startled, and sees her TA, walking down the steps. From the corner of her eye, Junie disappears, booking it to her dad, who scoops her up without missing a beat. “Hey kiddo,” he murmurs, smiling crookedly. “Were you bothering my students?” Then he glances at Jamie. “Sorry about that--hope she wasn’t too annoying.”

But Jamie shakes her head. “It’s fine.” Dammit. 

Still smiling, Percy makes his way back down to his seat. Junie grins at her over his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her dad’s neck.

At the beginning of the semester, Professor Buck had droned on and on about Mr. Jackson, about how he was one of the best up-and-coming classics scholars in the world, how he could have had his pick of PhD programs, and how NYU was lucky to have him. He got first pick of assistantships this semester, apparently, but had volunteered to teach Latin 1001, and they should all be grateful, because he had done some beautiful new translation of Virgil for his Master’s thesis, and they were all going to learn a lot from him. 

Turning back to her exam, Jamie snorts. Of course a guy like that would have a kid who could speak perfect Latin. 

She really should have just stuck with German instead. 

[huniebunny]

Heloo hunie!! If you dont mind, may I send in a request? Make sure you are healthy and not stressed before doing this!!

It’s another five time drabble! Receiver is Brian (i know ok? I AM a sucker for those two pfft-lolol)

Five time noticed!!

If you cant do this request for any reason at all, I understand completely!! Have a great day and Take care, also, no pressure <3

[Hello, noonie bee! I had far too much fun with writing this! I hope you thoroughly enjoy this one! You too, @whaleofatjme1920]

[Warnings: Suggestive themes, Not Safe for Tumblr, minors dni]

[5+1 prompts]

Surprising Him

Of course, they had to take over a runt. Of course, that proxy group didn’t have what it took to break one down. As if they had the time to train a runt in the middle of a mission. Hoodie was pissed beyond belief that you were pushed onto them for another group’s failures. He made it clear that he didn’t like you and promptly ignored you for the rest of the trip back to the safe house.

1

The first few weeks he didn’t even bother interacting with you. Masky, Toby, and Kate handled breaking you down in the cruelest ways, and watched as you spent what little recovery time you had to patch yourself up. He ignored your purpose as their runt, doing everything on his own instead of sending you out to do it for him. The others could handle you themselves. He would focus on the missions.

Of course, Kate and Toby were the first to start getting easier on you. Once you were getting used to the tasks and punishments they put you through, the two proxies practically accepted you as one of them. Hoodie growled that they were getting too close and lenient with you.

They were assigned a new mission and Hoodie was already preparing to head out. Of course, taking on a runt without an extra room meant that Hoodie had to relinquish his privacy. He moved his stuff to where Masky slept so he could avoid sharing the room with you. He couldn’t be bothered to treat you as part of the group.

But, things couldn’t just go by smoothly. He couldn’t be able to just wait until you left for another group. Masky appeared at the door, with you in tow, and the two proxies blankly glared at each other from each end of the room. “You’re not joining us on the mission. You will stay here and train the runt,” Masky ordered, pushing you inside the room. Hoodie bristled at that, snarling behind his mask as his hold tightened on the gun he was about to holster.

“And, why the fuck do I have to watch over them? You were handling things just fine, right?” He asked back, thinking better of himself and holstering the weapon.

“You’re the only one preventing them from moving past their runt status. If I have to report this to the boss, then you know your consequences.” It wasn’t just a warning. It was a threat.

Hoodie growled, harshly grabbing your arm as he made his way to the door. “Fuck you, Masky. Come on, runt, let’s get this over with.”

He’d lost track of how long the two of you were out in the woods, but you were getting on his last nerve. You lacked strength and aim, detrimentally. What the Slenderman saw in you to make you a runt was beyond him. He rubbed both of his palms against his eyes before getting up from where he reclined against a tree. He didn’t answer any of your frightened questions as he approached you and forced you into position. Your back pressed into his chest as he fixed your hold on his gun. The kickback might have been too powerful, resulting in your bad aim, but he didn’t care. You were failing and wasting his time.

Hoodie held your arms to firing position, frowning at how tense you were. “Relax, or the kickback will hurt you worse than I will.” You flinched away from where he spoke directly into your ear and he smirked that he could intimidate you so easily. But you eventually did relax, and he leaned in close again. “That piece over the barrel. It’ll help your aim, just focus it on the target.”

You nodded and took aim. “Fire.” The shot rang in his ears before the bullet lodged into the tree you were practicing on. You fell back into his weight from the kickback but didn’t move out of position. He let go of you, ignoring how you stumbled to your knees as he observed where the bullet went. The loose target he’d carved in the bark had holes all around it, and a single one just above bullseye.

“You hit it,” he commented, slightly impressed before turning back to you. He stopped and his eyes widened as he took in your expression. Your wide-eyed stare was on the tree, but there was a glimmer of life in them that he thought Masky had destroyed weeks ago. A shaky smile came over your face before laughing nonsensically.

He smirked and shook his head. “Get up. Try that again on your own this time.”

2

Months had passed since that first time training with you. Not only had you gotten better at utilizing his weapons, but you were getting stronger too. You were handling your tasks with better ease than ever before, taking on the heavy lifting from Masky and Toby when disposing of bodies. But you still weren’t off the hook with Hoodie.

Despite that first realization that you had potential, he still treated you like the lowest form of being. You’ve tried talking to him. Everytime he caught you approaching him, he turned away and spoke with Masky, and you were forced to wait for your moment to speak with him. But once you had that moment, he’d promptly leave, ignoring you like before. He’d still watch over you when you trained, but he kept himself out of your range.

You could pull out your hair and tear your skin apart in your frustration. He was the only one who still didn’t accept you as part of the group. Masky already assimilated you into their culture, meeting Slenderman face-to-face and getting branded. You were easily one of them by that point, but you were still stuck in runt status because of him. He was the only thing stopping you from joining missions and making yourself useful.

Hoodie led you out to the familiar clearing where you trained. But you didn’t come out here just to train. He dropped his weapons for you to utilize and stood on the other side of the clearing to watch you from a distance. You huffed and picked up one of his throwing knives.

You turned the blade in your hand before standing up. Then, without hesitation, you threw the weapon at Hoodie. It embedded itself next to his head, and you almost cursed yourself that it didn’t even tear the fabric of his hood. You couldn’t see his expression, but he didn’t move. Did you stun him?

Then he pulled the knife out of the tree, chuckling darkly. “That was a bad idea, runt. You want my attention so bad? Here it is-” And now he rushed toward you. He caught you off guard and you rolled out of his way before digging through the weapons on the ground. He already had a close combat weapon, so you had to pick something that would keep him at a distance.

You took his gun, but barely had enough time to load in a new magazine before Hoodie rushed you again. You rolled out of the way once more and fired at his feet. He jumped back away from your aim, taking in your crouched form. Smart choice with the gun, he thought.

You fired another, and he hissed. The bullet tore through his glove and grazed the back of his palm. He clenched his fists, chuckling. “Your aim’s getting better.” He couldn’t give you any reaction time now. He rushed straight for you again, throwing the knife at you to prevent you firing at him again.

You gasped, and narrowly avoided the blade. But you didn’t get far enough to avoid him. He tackled you, knocking the gun from your hands, and held you down. His hands tightly gripped your wrists and his legs straddled your chest. He chuckled. “You should have stayed in your lane, runt. You’ll never be able to take on one of us.”

You struggled to get out of his hold until you had to stop. You breathed heavily and the adrenaline itched under your skin to move, to get out of the situation. His hands clenched around your wrists over your head and it pulled enough of your mental power to analyze your position. A heat filled your cheeks outside of the blood rushing through your face and you covered your face in your elbows.

“Are you ready to give up?” Hoodie asked, before humming in interest as you relaxed in his hold. Then his eyes widened as you sunk further between his legs and arched your chest into his groin. Your arms fell away and his jaw went slack at the bedroom eyed gaze you gave him.

“Your positioning is so good~,” You whispered.

This caught him fully off guard, loosening his grip, and gave you the perfect opportunity to push him off. You broke his wrist before booking it back to the safe house without him.

“Why, you little-!” But you were gone. He huffed before falling onto his back in the grass. You didn’t deal much damage to him, but defeat weighed heavy on his mind as arousal defiantly filled his body.

3

How did things go wrong so damn fast?! They’d been watching the place every night for the past week to memorize the guards’ patrols! What the fuck gave them away?!

He shot down two guards already who caught them and sirens were blaring everywhere. Tim had to escort Kate out of the premises before her photophobia flared up. So it was just him, Toby, and you. He checked around the corner before signaling that the path was clear enough to go. Toby went ahead, too full of energy from the adrenaline to keep pace. But it did mean that the path would stay clear for a while.

The building had so many twists and dead end rooms. You’d never finish the mission alive like this. Hoodie was still digging around a room when you caught one of the guards turning a corner. You gasped, trying to find somewhere to hide. You caught sight of a closet, grabbed Hoodie by his hood, and dragged him inside. He fumbled and tried to argue when your hand covered the stitched mouth of his mask.

You hushed him, listening in as the guard walked into the room. Hoodie knew those heavy boots weren’t from anyone in the group. He held you closer and sunk further in the shadows. The two of you tried to breathe shallowly to avoid getting caught. You pressed in closer as a shadow appeared from the bottom slit of the door. Despite being in a possible life or death situation, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the times you were this close to him.

He thickly swallowed, trying to make sure his hands weren’t anywhere inappropriate. But even despite the baggy clothing they provided you, he could still feel your figure underneath. And that resurfaced a memory of defeat he tried to shove away to the deepest pits of hell.

Once everything was clear and quiet for much longer than necessary, he pushed you out before focusing back on the mission at hand. Toby had found what they were looking for and all three of you hurried out of the place. Hoodie didn’t meet your gaze on the way back to the house.

4

Hoodie loved those rare days when the group had nothing to do. He could be left alone, maybe head into town, do what the hell he wanted. He was always the first to wake up on these kinds of days. But this time, you were a surprise to see, first thing in the morning. And, you…. You were wearing…

You turned to plate something and caught him standing there. He was thoroughly grateful for how well his mask hid his face. He would never admit to where his gaze had drifted to while you were turned away. But the front of your current attire wasn’t helping his case much either.

“Oh, morning, Hoodie. I know you usually get up first and cook breakfast, but I wanted to surprise you.”

“Is that so?” He murmured, approaching you. “I think this is enough of a surprise.” He tugged the back of your shirt, fixing the loose collar. He turned his attention away, focusing on what you had just plated, and he blinked. You had made a traditional southern breakfast. Bacon curled and crisp, eggs were over medium and fried in bacon fat, the sight of it alone made his mouth water. “I don’t think I ever told you how I liked my breakfast.”

You put the pan down to avoid injuring yourself. “I watched you cook enough times to figure it out. You have simple tastes.”

His brow raised and he lifted his mask as you turned away from him again. He licked his teeth as he pinned you to the countertop. “Simple tastes? Are you trying to insult me, or yourself?” He growled in your ear. You froze up under him and he couldn’t help but grin. “Cause if it’s you, I think that’s only my job, runt.”

He purred the old title into your ear, reminding you of all the close moments you had with him. “I think you’re taking breakfast duty from now on. Don’t attempt to disobey that.” He nipped the back of your jaw before pushing himself away and grabbing his plate right as the rest came down.

5

It was a rare pleasure and despair to see Astaraith again. The Harem Head always had some flirting up their sleeve, and, of course, you were their target. Hoodie grumbled as you were swiftly taken by their beauty and charm, and hated that you fell for their whims. He was shoved to a seat on the club’s main floor while you were dragged backstage. He rolled his eyes as he waited.

He should have told you early on not to trust anyone from Sexual Offenderman’s ruling. Astaraith always took an interest in the runts and newer proxies, even convincing those to change who owned them. He could only hope that you wouldn’t fall for it either.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for you to come back to the floor, calling for him. He looked up and his jaw dropped as you flattened the expensive fabric over your figure. “Does it look any good?” You asked, pulling him from his daze.

He shook his head and stood up. “You look good…” He couldn’t say much else as you performed a full turn for him. But as he was admiring your figure, he missed the way Astaraith gave you a thumbs up from the curtains. “But I-”

His thought was interrupted by your thumbs hooking in his belt loops and pulling him closer. Your lips met his chin through his mask and he froze in place. “Oh-” He chuckled deeply, cupping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. “Oh, that’s dangerous…”

His hand slid down before loosely wrapping around your neck. “Don’t do that,” he warned, leaning in closer, “Cause I’m not gonna be responsible for what I might do next…” He then pulled you through to a room where he could fully enjoy you for himself. He was going to rip that gorgeous outfit off of you, piece by piece.

+1

You were so used to seeing his mask; You almost didn’t recognize him without it. He was on the couch, sewing up a hole he’d earned from your last mission together. You tried to not look at him so much, but it was just so novel to see him without it. You snuck closer and closer until you could barely touch his hair when- “I know you’re there.”

He ordered you to sit with him, and you stared at your lap the entire time. The mask was set aside once he finished, and he turned to you, resting his arm over the back of the couch. He turned your head and laughed when he saw your eyes squeezed shut. “You can open your eyes, runt.” A shiver went up your spine as he whispered that endearing insult.

“You’re wearing your mask, right?”

“Yes, whatever makes you feel better.” You peeked an eye open and saw his face fully uncovered then screwed that eye shut again. He laughed, more loudly this time, before patting your cheek. “No, seriously. Open your eyes, and get a good look at me.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes and met his gaze. He smiled, cupping the back of your neck. “That’s a good little runt.”

Your face burned at that, but tried to ignore it so you could observe all of his features. You didn’t think eyes could be that dark in color. And he was much less scarred than you thought his face would be.Your gaze briefly dropped to his lips before glancing away. “You’re… really handsome…”

He shook his head and pulled you in for a short kiss.

[handsomelyhiddleston]

Stormy Sleepover - Tom Hiddleston x Reader

I haven’t written in like, years. I previously wrote for Colby Brock at @colbybrocksmolder and someone asked me to write for Tom so I figured I’d give it a shot. 

I hope you enjoy! 

_________________________

“Did you hear there was a storm coming?” one of your PA’s, Andi, asked you. You were in charge of making sure the cast all had assistants and that their life on set ran smoothly. You’d been working with these guys since the very first Thor movie.

“I got a notification on my phone a few hours ago, but this building is so big I doubt we’d know if it had actually hit yet.” You pulled up your weather app and clicked on the “!” checking to see what the “alert” was. “Oh god” you said, shocked to read that most of the county was already out of power.

“I told you, call me Chris.” Behind you, Hemsworth was chuckling leaning over to read what you were looking at on your phone.

“Ha, ha.” You laughed at his cheesy joke. “But seriously, has anyone been outside in the last few hours?”

Looking at your phone, Hemsworth shrugged and headed towards one of the truck bays.

In front of you, you watched Evans and Tom training with each other. There were various scenes in this movie involving water and a big thing the trainers had been working with them on was safely landing in water. It sounds funny, but you can break bones or knock yourself unconscious if you land wrong.

“Bad news” Hemsworth yelled out, getting everyone’s attention. “This building has been running on generators. There’s no power in the whole lot.” He dramatically shook his arms, flinging rain water on you and Andi.

“No wonder this water has gotten so cold” Evans added, shivering. “It’s usually warmed, but It’s ice right now.”

You sent a text to the director who was in a meeting with the writers. You received a text back fairly quickly. “Let everyone know we’ve got 6 more rooms at the Hyatt Hotel a few towns over for those who don’t have trailers on the lot. Tell everyone else that it looks like the power won’t be fixed until tomorrow afternoon. There’s a whole line of downed power lines that they can’t get to until the storm stops. The generators only run lights and a few outlets and it looks like they’re going to die soon too. The 16 seater van is outside with a driver to take people to the hotel.”

“Looks like we’re done for the day.” You said mostly to yourself, with Hemsworth and Andi hearing you.

“Everybody in.” Hemsworth hollered out so you wouldn’t have to yell.

“Thanks.” You shot him a smile.

“Any time” he replied, flinging his long wet hair towards you.

“I take it back.” You laughed, moving to stand on your chair.

“I know that not everyone has a trailer in the lot yet as we haven’t actually started filming, so for anyone that doesn’t have a home here there’s a van outside that will take to you the hotel that has power nearby. It’s already super chilly in here, so I imagine it’s freezing outside.” You spoke so everyone could hear you.

“Can confirm.” Hemsworth said, starting to shiver a bit.

“There’s umbrellas near the catering tables and there’s a bunch of old hoodies and jackets in the extras costume bay. Make sure you’re warm and dry before you head to the van.”

Everyone that didn’t have a trailer on set left once they had their instructions.

“As for the rest of us, we have to hunker down in our trailers until this passes. I have solar power and full solar batteries on my trailer so all of you are more than welcome to come crash with me if your trailer is too cold or you need electricity for anything.”

You, Hemsworth, Evans, Tom, and Scarlett were the only ones on set that had trailers so far.

“It can’t be THAT cold” Evans joked, grabbing his bag and heading towards the door.

“Scarlett went to her trailer a few hours ago” Tom shared. “I only got here last night so I don’t even have my trailer set up. Are you sure you’re okay if I go grab my bag and come steal some of your space?”

“Absolutely” you smiled at him. “And if I know Scarlett, she’s already in my trailer. I don’t think her trailer was even hooked up to power yet. Her’s was the newest one on the lot.”

“Thank you, darling. I’ll go grab my bag and check Scarlett’s trailer on my way to yours.” Tom replied and then jogged towards the door.

Andi left to catch the van once you passed your notes from the day on to her. “Be safe. Don’t worry about making it back tomorrow. I will email you any further updates I have for assignments.”

“I’m going to head back to my trailer and see if I have any cell services.” Hemsworth shared after everyone else had started leaving. “I know my wife probably has all of the weather and accident alerts on for the whole county and she’s probably worried.”

“Be safe.” You said, taking his offered hand so you could step off of your chair safely. “I’ll grab the satellite phone in the emergency kit and take it to my trailer just in case we need it.”

“It looks like you may have a full house tonight.” Hemsworth Joked.

“You’re welcome to join the insanity.” You teased, throwing your hoodie on and grabbing the satellite phone.

When you made it to your trailer, you were pretty soaked. Even with the umbrella, the rain was insane.

“Thank God you didn’t leave.” Scarlett startled you.

“I knew you’d already be in here.” You laughed. “Tom is on his way. His trailer is like yours. We didn’t even get a chance to get them hooked up before this crazy storm hit.”

“Oooo Lover boy is coming.” She teased.

“Oh, shut it. We’re friends, Scar. That’s it. We’ve never been more than friends.” You started stripping out of your wet clothes and slipped on a pair of soft black sweatpants and your favorite hoodie. It was dark green with “Mischief” written across the front. There were gold horns painted on the hood.

“I’ve known your friend almost as long as you have and the way he looks at you…I’m just saying. I think there’s something there.” She teased, gathering your wet clothes and putting them in a laundry bin that was tucked under one of the beds.

You both turned to the door hearing what sounded like a woman screaming bloody murder. “Let me in” Evans yelled, banging on the door.

Scarlett opened the door while you grabbed a towel. She laughed at him, seeing him drenched head to toe. “It was unlocked, tough guy.”

“You hit an octave I don’t think I can even reach, Cap” you teased, throwing him the towel and going back into your PJ drawer for an oversized t shirt and a baggy pair of sweats.

“I was wrong. I was so wrong. It’s fucking freezing in my trailer and I didn’t realize that the water would be cold because the power has been out for so long.” Evan’s teeth were chattering as he stripped out of his clothes, trying to dry off.

“I think I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve seen you naked, Evans.” Scarlett laughed, handing him the clothes you picked out for him.

“Thank god you aren’t seeing the front. It’s so cold I think my manhood has retreated fully into my body” Evans replied, throwing the clothes on and drying his hair with the towel.

Both of you laughed. You started brewing a pot of coffee and turned your water kettle on for tea. “Well, Scarlett already claimed the couch.” You mentioned. “Why don’t you take the regular bed so that if Hemsworth joins, you two can bunk together. It’s queen size so it should fit you both comfortably.”

Evans crawled into bed, wrapping himself in the blankets and trying to warm up. “Where will you sleep?”

“The dining room table and benches turn into a bed.” You replied. “It’s a full size, so almost as big as the one you’re in.”

“Did you hear that?” Evans perked up, trying to look out the tiny window he could still see through from the bed.

You and Scarlett quieted down. Getting louder you could hear Hemsworth yelling “NO, I AM THE GOD OF THUNDER!” every time lighting would strike and the sky would boom.

“Looks like it’s going to be a full house tonight.” Scarlett laughed, opening the door. “Get your godly ass in here, you crazy Australian.”

“He’s clearly the superior Chris” Evans joked. “Are you fucking crazy?” he asked as Hemsworth stepped into the trailer.

“Possibly. Probably.” Hemsworth laughed, trying not to get water all over the floor.

Scarlett grabbed the towel Evans had used to dry off and put it down on the floor by the door. “Here you go.”

“Much appreciated.” Hemsworth replied, dropping his duffle bag. “Can I change in your bathroom?”

“It’s all yours” you said. “Do you need clothes or did you bring some dry ones?”

“I brought some. I also brought some fun. I’ll show you after I get out of my sopping clothes.” He answered, leaving his shoes by the door and stepping into the bathroom.

When the bathroom door clicked, you heard a knock on the door. “Tom, come in” you hollered.

Tom was wearing a long poncho with an umbrella. He had a large bag with him and when he got inside he kicked his shoes off, putting them by Hemsworth’s shoes. You grabbed his bag from him, putting it by the second bed you had just finished setting up. He closed the umbrella and pulled his poncho off, his black sweatpants and black hoodie bone dry.

“You make the other two look like heathens.” Scarlett laughed. “They showed up soaking wet and screaming.”

“He is a gentleman.” You gave him a smirk, causing his cheeks to blush ever so slightly.

“Is there even room for all 5 of us?” he cleared his throat and laughed.

“Absolutely” you ushered him towards you. “Evans and Hemsworth are sharing that bed. Scarlett has the couch. I just set up the extra bed right here, for you.”

“For us” he replied with a stern look. “I know you too well, darling” he smirked. “You’re going to offer to sleep on the floor by the couch and I won’t have any of it.”

“Tom, it’s fine. I have a sleeping bag and…” You tried to ensure him you’d be okay, but he interrupted you.

“If you try to sleep on this floor I will walk back to my freezing trailer so you can have the bed to yourself.” The stern look softened as he pulled you into a tight hug. “You know you don’t always have to be the one to make the sacrifice. Plus, I promise I don’t talk in my sleep or have crazy dreams. I’ve even been told I’m quite comfy to cuddle with.” He dropped his eyes to yours, smirking.

“Oh, if I must.” You teased him, kissing his cheek as Hemsworth finally came out of the bathroom. “Scarlett knows where the laundry bin is.” You pointed him towards the hamper full of wet clothes.

“Do I smell coffee?” Evans sat up in bed, looking towards you. “Come cuddle, buddy” he laughed opening his arms for Hemsworth who let all of his body weight drop on Evans. “Jesus Christ, you’re a brick.”

You laughed, pulling down mugs from the cabinets and making everyone coffee. “Coffee or Tea, Tom?” you looked over at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed you two would share.

“Tea, my sweet. But let me help you.” He stood and started grabbing sugars for everyone’s coffee, asking how many they normally added.

“There’s pasta in the crock-pot as well if anyone is hungry.” You announced.

“Food?” Hemsworth’s head shot up and he crawled off of Evans.

“God, men are so simple.” Scarlett laughed, grabbing the coffee you handed her.

“You are not wrong.” Evans added, asking if he could help with anything now that he wasn’t freezing to death.

“I think we’re good.” You replied, dishing up some pasta for Hemsworth and Evans and passing them off to the boys. “Scarlett?” you offered her food, as well.

“Actually, I’m craving something sweet.” She answered.

“I’ve prepared for this one” Tom answered, going to the large bag he brought with him. “It took me so long to get here because I walked to the catering room to grab some snacks. I’ve got a whole tub of cookie dough that probably needs to go in the refrigerator soon, a tub of sour sweets, and what looks like a large cherry pie.”

“Pass the cookie dough this way” Scarlett answered. “This man has his priorities straight”, she laughed.

After everyone had sat back on their beds, dug into their food, and warmed up with their coffee or tea, Hemsworth remembered his bag. “Since we are most likely going to be stuck in this trailer until tomorrow afternoon, I brought a different kind of treat.” He picked up his bag and started pulling out bottles of alcohol and putting them on the counter. “Anyone opposed?” he asked.

“What a G!” Evans laughed, crawling out of the bed to help Hemsworth make drinks. “What kind of mixers do you have, Y/n?”

“There’s some cans of soda, some energy drinks…there’s some juice…and then we’ve got coffee for that Bailey’s I see” you answered.

Tom was smirking next to you as the Chrises started making a make-shift bar out of what they had available to them.

“We’ve got to get this started with a bang” Hemsworth said, handing everyone two shots each. “The first one is to us having a great night reunited with our make-shift family.” He smiled at everyone and downed the first shot, everyone else following suit.

Evans spoke up after. “The second one goes to our incredible, gracious, and always prepared host. To Y/n!” He downed the second shot, everyone following his lead. Except for Tom.

You shivered as the second shot went down your throat and looked over at Tom who was still holding his full shot glass, sitting next to you on the bed. He had a small smile, giving you a look you couldn’t place. Quietly he spoke to you “I’d like to add a few things to his toast, but I think it may take a few more drinks to find the right words.” He downed the shot and took a sip of his tea to wash it down.

“Who wants what?” Evans asked, making everyone a strong drink.

For the first few drinks, everyone just talked and caught up. It had been a while since the group had been on a press run or a film set together.

“Y/n!” Evans spoke up.

“Yes, Cap?” you answered, starting to feel the alcohol course through you.

“Truth or Dare?” He smirked. His eyebrow raised like he was challenging you.

“Truth.” You answered, staring him down.

“Hmmm…Have you dated anyone working on any of these movies? Cast or crew?” He asked, finishing off his drink and standing to make another.

“I haven’t” you answered truthfully.

“Wait, let’s not do truth or dare, lets do truth or shot.” Scarlett suggested, wanting to get a few answers out of you and Tom.

“I like it.” Evans said, grabbing everyone’s shot glasses back and filling them so he could hand them out as needed.

“I answered, so I’m in the clear. Hemsworth has a higher alcohol tolerance than we do so I need him to catch up. Who is an actor in the MCU you hope you never have to work with again?” You asked, hearing Tom chuckle next to you.

“I can’t answer that!” he laughed, taking the shot Evans handed him.

“That’s the point.” You laughed.

He laughed, handing the empty shot glass back to Evans. “Fine, fine. Tom. In our last interview panel together, they kept asking you if you were seeing someone and you answered no. You then said that you were interested in someone, but that you hadn’t done anything about it. Who is she?”

“Oh no.” Tom laughed, feeling the alcohol a bit himself. “I think I need to take a shot. Are all of these going to be so hard?” He grabbed the shot that Evans passed off to him.

“I think you guys just need to not be pussies and answer the damn questions” Scarlett laughed, shooting you a look.

“Right?” Evans laughed, taking the empty shot glass from Tom.

Tom scooted a bit closer to you when he handed off his shot glass. “Okay, Evans. If you had to marry one of your on screen romantic co-stars, who would it be?”

“Oh, come on! It’s gotta be Scar Jo! The one and only.” Evans laughed, putting his hands over his heart and giving Scarlett a loving look. “We’ve been in movies together damn near my whole career.”

“We would annoy the hell out of each other.” Scarlett laughed.

“It’s true. We’re practically siblings. Okay, Y/n” Evans rubbed his hands together like he was plotting. “Favorite actor you’ve been able to work with ever.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a very specific question you want to ask, but instead you’re asking questions trying to fluster me?” you shot him a look, trying not to blush.

“Hey, I’m just playing the game.” Evans laughed, picking up a shot to let me know I didn’t have to answer.

“Keep your shot. I’ll answer this one. It’s definitely Mr. Mischief himself over here.” You pointed your thumb to your side at Tom, trying not to blush.

“No, there has to be someone cooler than me.” Tom blushed, hiding his glee by taking a sip of his tea.

You looked at him, summoning the strength of the drinks you’ve been throwing back. “You should give yourself more credit. You’re amazing.”

You stayed in the moment for a few seconds, just smiling at each other. “I think it’s your turn”, Tom said, putting his arm around your shoulders.

You blushed, realizing you had just been staring at him. Leaning into his side, you asked “Okay, Evans. Have you slept with any of your MCU co-stars?”

“Oh shit!” Scarlett laughed, standing up and handing Evans one of the shots.

“Yeah, yeah.” He laughed, downing the shot. “I’ll pick on someone else this time.” He filled up everyone’s drinks while thinking of his next question. “Okay, Scar. Who is the most attractive man in the current MCU?”

“Oooh, good question.” Scarlett thought about it, going through the movies outside of the Avengers. “I have a few different answers.”

“Explain.” Hemsworth replied.

“Well, There are a few people I find attractive for different reasons, I guess.” She answered.

“How about you share this list and we decide if you still need to drink for not picking one person?” You laughed.

“Well, Hemsworth is an amazing dad. Like, you look your happiest when you’re in the messiest, most chaotic situations with your kids. Most dads are the opposite. They’re trying to escape that.” Scarlett explained her first answer.

“Valid points made so far” Evans agreed, leaning against the counter.

“Hiddleston is the fucking epitome of a gentleman. You’re literally everything women want.” Scarlett turned towards tom, making him blush.

You quietly spoke “She’s not wrong” in Tom’s ear, feeling him pull you tighter to his side in response.

“You’re too kind”, Tom answered to her, downing the rest of his drink.  

Scarlett looked to Evans. “I think I have to go with…Idris Elba.”

“I want to be mad that I didn’t make your list, but that man is truly a god.” Evans responded.

The game started to wind down as it got later into the night. Seeing everyone kind of calm down and get settled, you walked around making sure everyone had what they needed.

“Anyone want water so you don’t wake up hungover?” you laughed, pulling some water out of the fridge.

“Here!” “Please!” you handed water bottles out to everyone.

“I’m not setting an alarm for the morning. It’s super late and I doubt anyone is going to be back on the lot before dinner time anyways.” You said, grabbing you and Tom each a water bottle before turning off the main light.

You turned on the small light above your bed so you could sort out your sleeping arrangements. You grabbed your toiletries bag and pulled out a make-up wipe, trying to clean your face since you didn’t really get to do your nightly routine.

“Can I use one of those?” Tom asked, realizing he hadn’t been able to wash his face either.

“Come here” you said, scooting against Tom so you could run the damp cloth over his face. He watched your gentle movements, feeling you run the cool cloth across his skin.

“Thank you” he said, kissing the back of your hand before scooting back in the bed and laying down.

You put your bag back and drank some of your water before crawling fully into the bed and turning off the light. “Are you good?” you asked, turning to face Tom in the dark. You could feel his hand reach out and settle on your arm.

“I am” he answered, running his hand down your arm, to rest on your hip. “I want to finish your toast” he whispered, scooting his pillow closer to yours. “What Evans said was true, but you’re so much more, y/n. You’re beautiful and incredibly intelligent and there is not a single person I look forward to seeing more than you.”

“I think you’re drunk” you replied, knowing that if the light was on your face would be bright red.

“I am” Tom chuckled. “I still stand by what I said.”

You reached forward and ran your hand up Tom’s chest until you felt your fingers graze the side of his face. “I’m going to have to thank Hemsworth for getting you tipsy” you laughed, teasing Tom. You scooted closer to him, feeling him wrap his arm around your back and hold you against him.

“I couldn’t have waited much longer to tell you anyways” Tom replied. “I was just nervous you didn’t feel the same. We’ve been such good friends for so long…”

You interrupted him, capturing his lips in a kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that for years” you said, connecting your lips in a second kiss.

“Oh, thank god.” Tom said, a little louder than intended. “Can I call you mine?”

You laughed, trying to stay quiet. “Please, do.” You answered reconnecting your lips.

Tom rolled to hover over you, deepening the kiss.

“Fucking finally!” you heard Scarlett call out, making Tom collapse on top of you in laughter.

“Right?” Evans added. “It’s been ages.”

“Fair warning, I am telling this story at your wedding” Hemsworth said.

“I think our friends are happy for us” Tom said in a much quieter voice, flipping the two of you so that you were laying against his chest.

“I mean, I’m pretty happy for us” you replied, snuggling into his warm chest.

“Me too, love. Get some sleep” he said, running his hand up and down your back as he felt your breaths even out.

[arrantsnowdrop]

To be a Jedi - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Request: “anakin/female!reader getting together fic that involves reader crying because she’s feeling self-conscious about her appearance and feeling worthless and anakin comforting her and calming her down and then accidentally confessing to her?”

Tags: @lothloriien​

Warnings: self-deprecation, insecurities, etc. (~2,500 words)

~~~~~

Being a Jedi really sucked sometimes.

Not all the time. In fact, you normally enjoyed the fast-paced, demanding lifestyle you led. Even as a youngling you had taken pride in the ritual and responsibility of being a Jedi, and now, as a Padawan on the verge of facing the Jedi trials, you were more confident than ever that the Force had led you down the right path.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t have bad days every once in a while.

Your Master had been called away on some highly classified mission in the Naboo system, so you’d been spending the week at the Jedi Temple working on some independent research and participating in training sessions with the other senior Padawans. Unfortunately, they were focusing on lightsaber combat this week - something you were definitely not as skilled at considering your specialization in negotiation and communications.

It wasn’t that you were unathletic - you were training to be a Jedi for crying out loud - but it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious about how much you were struggling with the training exercises, especially when your assigned training partner was none other than Anakin Skywalker.

It was just past midday - you’d been training for hours already and still had a few to go. The sun was blaring down on the courtyard where you and the other Padawans were sparring under Obi-Wan’s supervision.

You panted heavily, eyeing Anakin as the two of you circled each other slowly. There was no question as to which one of you would launch the next parry - Anakin had taken the offensive right out of the gate - so all you could do was try to catch your breath and prepare yourself for his next attack.

His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, a few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead and some of his hair sticking to his face. His eyes were following your every move, tracking you like you were some kind of prey.

You hated this.

Suddenly, Anakin lunged forward, blue lightsaber whirring loudly as he swung it towards you. You groaned, lifting your own lightsaber up at the last possible moment to deflect him.

“Such a slow reaction time,” Anakin teased, grinning as he stepped back to give himself a wider range of motion.

“I thought it would take you longer to catch your breath,” you replied, voice strained as you blocked another one of his strikes.

You’d been friends with Anakin since Obi-Wan took him as a Padawan years ago, offering to help him as he played “catch up” with the rest of you. The fact he’d become such a strong Force-user despite starting so late was something you deeply respected him for, though you were perfectly content simply watching him display these skills.

Being on the receiving end of a lightsaber attack from Anakin Skywalker was not something you would consider enjoyable. You’d spent the whole morning dodging and jumping and somehow still losing every match. 

You flinched as Anakin’s lightsaber hit your torso, the sting of the “training mode” setting hurting far less than the sting of your own pride.

“Seven to one,” Obi-Wan called from where he was watching. You groaned, rubbing your temples with your free hand and turning your lightsaber off.

“Hey, you were definitely doing better than time,” Anakin said reassuringly, sensing your frustration. “Improvement is all Obi-Wan is looking for.”

“Improvement doesn’t take away from the fact I’ve lost seven matches today,” you seethed, bending down to re-tie the laces of your boots.

“Perhaps if you worked out a bit more you wouldn’t lose so often,” one of the other Padawans jested. Your head snapped up, face flushing as you sent them a pointed glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked curtly, watching them look between you and Anakin uncomfortably.

“It’s just-”

They didn’t get a chance to finish, letting out a small shriek as they dodged a rock flying through the air. You turned around to look at Anakin, his slightly raised hand indicating who’d been responsible for the rock. At least he was using his Force capabilities in your favor now.

“Thanks,” you muttered, reigniting your lightsaber, glancing at the clock above where Obi-Wan was sitting. All you wanted was for training to be over so you could retreat to your room.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” Anakin said, a somewhat angry look on his face as he took a fighting stance across from you. “You’re perfectly capable of wielding a lightsaber, and you’d definitely beat them if you’d been paired up.”

“Hopefully,” you corrected him, “hopefully I’d beat them.”

“Definitely,” Anakin insisted, you rolling your eyes as you lifted your lightsaber in front of you.

----

What sucked about getting older was how little you saw Obi-Wan and Anakin. Your Master was responsible for conducting multiple research projects for the Jedi Council off-world, and Obi-Wan and Anakin hardly ever stayed on Coruscant for longer than a few days, so it was unlikely that you’d find yourselves in the same place for a decent amount of time anymore.

Normally, you would’ve used this week as a great opportunity to catch up with one of your oldest friends. This damn lightsaber training was getting in the way.

It had been yet another long day of sweating the equivalent of your own bodyweight and paling in comparison to Anakin’s abilities. Obi-Wan had focused on lightsaber combat in precarious and compromising situations, with one of which resulting in you falling off a two story rock wall.

As you stood in front of the mirror in your room you couldn’t overlook the spattering of bruises covering your torso and arms, all varying hues of blue and purple culminating from the last few days. You sighed, grateful you were getting the extra training you so clearly needed and nervous about what that meant. Imagine you’d been confronted by some Sith fanatic in the last few weeks - who knows how long you would’ve lasted?

Perhaps you were overthinking. You did have an extremely over-skilled training partner who made most other Jedi look incompetent with a lightsaber.

That being said, you still couldn’t shake what that other Padawan had said about you yesterday. Had you really become unathletic? You didn’t think you’d ever really neglected your daily training exercises, but perhaps those weren’t enough.

You sat down on the edge of your bed slowly, shoulder slumped. Maybe you weren’t as capable as you thought. The bruises all over you and lack of any actual visible muscle certainly pointed towards that.

----

The next morning, you skipped breakfast, giving Obi-Wan some offhanded explanation as to why you’d be missing training and heading for the library. You weren’t really skipping for no reason, your Master had given you a list of different research topics for you to look up in the Jedi Archives. Did you really need the extra time to get this done? No, but it still gave you a good excuse to avoid the feeling of physical incapability that accompanied your training sessions.

Plus, you didn’t want to slow the entire group down. Tears pricked at your eyes as you remembered yesterday when Obi-Wan made you repeat some dumb exercise on a floating raft over and over again, even though everyone else had already done it to his satisfaction. It was humiliating.

At least here in the library, surrounded by stacks of holograms and books, you were in your element. Here you didn’t have to move fast or chop anyone’s limb off out of self-defense.

It was sometime in the late afternoon when Anakin stormed into the library, loud footsteps immediately shushed by a swarm of librarians. You couldn’t help but grin softly, eyes meeting his as he marched over to you much more quietly.

“Even the great Anakin Skywalker is no match for an angry librarian,” you teased, him scoffing as he plopped down in a chair next to you.

“And where were you today?” Anakin asked, a strange intensity behind his question. You gulped, gesturing to the pile of transcripts and notes in front of you.

“I was right here,” you replied meekly.

“Since this morning?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise. You nodded.

“What the heck, Y/N,” he groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Obi-Wan assigned me a different partner. Do you know how irritating every other Padawan is to train with?”

“No, I’ve only ever trained with you,” you said bluntly.

“Exactly!” Anakin responded a little too loudly, earning him a dramatic shush from the circulation desk.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, slapping his chest lightly. He rolled his eyes.

“What I mean is that I’ve only ever trained with you, too, so everyone else doesn’t live up to my expectations.”

“What expectations?” you asked quizzically, flipping one of your notebooks closed.

“Working hard but still having a good time,” he answered, waving his hand nonchalantly. “You never sacrifice good banter for anything, I value that.”

“Ah, I’m glad to know you only value me as a training partner for my humor,” you retorted dryly, gathering all your belongings into a pile and standing up. Anakin’s brows furrowed as he looked up at you, a confused look painted across his face.

“Hey, what?” he asked, standing up with you. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just makes sense that you only enjoy my conversation, not anything actually training-related.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, completely dumbfounded as you started walking away.

“See you tomorrow, Anakin,” you replied, refusing to shed any more tears until you reached your room.

----

The next morning you were too unmotivated to let Obi-Wan know you weren’t coming, deciding instead to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing. Well, you were reading, but what did that really matter to a Jedi? You were supposed to be able to do backflips through the air and take on five enemies at once, and yet here you were wrapped in two blankets feeling like absolute shit. Some Jedi you were.

You held your breath as someone began knocking furiously on the door, hoping desperately they would think you weren’t home.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” Anakin called. You groaned, turning around and smashing your face into the pillow.

“Y/N!” he called again.

“Don’t come in!” you shouted back, voice muffled through the pillow.

“I’m coming in.”

“Don’t-”

You never got the chance to finish, bolting upright in bed as the door flew open, Anakin stalking in. You rolled your eyes, just thankful he had kept the door on its hinges.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, cringing as you recoiled slightly at his harsh words.

“What do you mean?” you replied quietly, his face softening as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I meant what’s wrong, not what’s wrong with you,” Anakin corrected, taking your hand in his own.

“Nothing’s wr-”

“Don’t give me that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t even try, I know you better than anyone Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You kept quiet, focusing on the way his thumb was rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

“You’ve been acting off since we started training together, is it something I did?” he tried again, genuinely concerned. You laughed dryly and shook your head.

“No, Anakin, you didn’t do anything,” you replied truthfully, looking at him. “You’re perfect, I promise you did nothing wrong.” He gave you a small smile, looking down to where he was still holding your hand. He didn’t let go, only gripped you a little tighter, urging you to continue. You bit your lip, debating whether or not to tell him.

“Do you remember when that Padawan told me I needed to exercise more?” you asked finally. His head snapped up, eyes meeting yours.

“I knew it,” he murmured, nostrils flaring as he tried (and failed) to conceal his budding anger. “I knew it.”

“Anakin it’s ok,” you said, reaching out and rubbing his forearm, his gaze following your hand. “I mean, they were right, if I-”

“No,” Anakin said. “No, they weren’t right. They have no idea how strong you are, how capable-”

“Anakin I’ve struggled this entire week,” you blurted, eyes stinging and face heating up. “I pale in comparison to you, and the other Padawans, at least physically. I thought whatever training I’d been doing had been enough but clearly it wasn’t, so they’re right. I need to exercise more, I need to train more, I’m incapable of defending myself with a lightsaber and I don’t even look like a proper Jedi.” You thrust your bruised arms out towards him. “Look at these, you don’t have them, no one else does. I’m the only one who struggles with every exercise and test.”

You realized you’d begun to cry, tears rolling down your face and breaths shallow.

“Y/N,” Anakin murmured, hurt in his eyes as he took your arms gingerly in his hands. “Y/N, no.”

Your eyes widened as Anakin bent over, slowly pressing his mouth to each bruise on your forearms. You gulped, feeling a little dizzy as Anakin glanced up at you. “You’re an amazing Jedi,” he started, sitting back up straight and pulling you closer to him. You tried to pull away, not wanting to stain his robes with your tears, but he held you firmly. “You’re already stronger than half the people in that group, I’ll have Obi-Wan reassign you so you can kick someone’s ass and everyone will realize it.”

“Anakin-”

He shushed you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body against yours.

“There’s more to being a Jedi than using a lightsaber, anyways,” he continued. “You’re the only person our age in this whole temple that can negotiate with warlords and thieves and murderers and still come back unscathed with five new friends.”

You chuckled, biting your lip as he pressed a kiss against your hair.

“You’re perfect, Y/N,” he insisted softly, you shifting in his arms to gaze up at him.

You were surprised by how nervous he looked, as if he didn’t know how you’d react to what he’d just said, what he’d just implied. You just smiled softly, leaning up to press a slow kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Anakin,” you mumbled against his face, grinning as you felt him smile.

Suddenly he pushed himself up, forcing you down onto the bed and collapsing on top of you. You shrieked, bursting into a fit of giggles as he began nestling himself in your hair.

“Shouldn’t you still be at training?” you asked, a wide smile on your face.

“I was sent here by Obi-Wan to fetch you,” he replied smugly.

“So shouldn’t we both be getting back then?”

He propped himself up on his elbows, gazing down at you with a cocky smile on his face.

“I never told him when I’d be coming back.”

You decided you could afford to skip training another day - Anakin probably needed the rest anyways - and pulled his face down to meet your own.