#Sorry peeps but I need some motivation to finally catch up to it

[bearscones]

I swear if I ever caught up in Arknights story(main + events) before August 15, 2024 at 11:11am I will draw Matoimaru fucking a Genshin character of my choice no matter how bad it is.

[thefanficmonster]

Filterless

Corpse Husband x Plus-sized Reader (Female)

Warnings: Body Image Insecurities, Low self-esteem, Swearing

Genre:  Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Feeling comfortable in her skin has hardly ever been the case for Y/N who’s been struggling with body image issues all her life. However, they only get worse when she sees the ‘type’ of girls her crush is into.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request (hits close to home 😅) I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to fulfill it and post it but here it finally is and if you’ve stuck around long enough to read it, I hope you enjoy! ALSO! - Never forget how beautiful and amazing you are. Never compare your beauty to someone else’s. We’re all beautiful people and we all shine so brightly and uniquely. No one deserves to be compared to anyone when we’re all so different yet so incredible. Love you and appreciate you with all my heart, Vy ❤

If I ever need my ego taken down a few notches - it never does, it’s barely even present, to be honest - all I have to do is go on Instagram. To be honest, regardless of how I’m feeling, opening that app is bound to make my mood plummet and come crashing into the ground so hard it drives a hole in it - probably in the form of a broken heart.

Being a content creator myself, I often get asked questions about my absence on that social platform specifically. I mean, the questions are based and rational I guess, considering I’m not a faceless YouTuber and yet my Instagram account is void of any photos. It’s not like I don’t post at all - I do! I post on my story often but it’s more often than not scenery I find pretty or a poster I’ve made for a movie/video game. Bottom line is: I barely ever allow a picture of me to make it online. The most my fans are ever gonna get of me is a selfie which is also a super rare occurrence because of how long it takes me to take and choose one I don’t hate.

Ok, but how am I supposed to find the motivation to post any sort of picture of myself when on my timeline I’m always faced with people worthy of posting pictures of themselves. People with such perfect bodies and beautiful faces. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jealous or envious of those people - good for them! They know what they’re working with and they’re working it well. I have nothing against them, in fact, I love seeing people proud of their bodies no matter their size, shape or weight. Those are my role-models: people who are proud of themselves, their bodies, their attributes and capabilities and don’t hesitate to show them off. Those are the people I look up to but, deep down inside I know I’ll never be like.

Insecure about my body, having been referred to as ‘chubby’ and ‘squishy’ all my life. Inappreciative of the stuff I do: starting from my job as a graphic designer leading towards my job on YouTube - nothing I do, professionally or otherwise, satisfies me. Nothing I do is enough in my eyes because I feel incapable of ever being able to do enough. I’ve been called lazy and a half-asser a few too many times to be able to brush it off as a meaningless insult. 

With these problems I’ve had with myself and my own perception of who I am and the work I do, I’ve never had the time for romance or romantic relationships. I second-guess the intentions of everyone who ever shows any interest in me because in my mind I’m nothing special and I have nothing to offer - nothing attractive or likable at least. That being said, I haven’t even been one to make heart eyes at others either. I busy myself with my job and some side-gigs, brushing off any relationship questions with the excuse that I’m ‘just too busy to be in a relationship’ which is technically true.

Having spent twenty plus years with that mindset, one can imagine how surprised I was when I found myself catching feelings for someone. And that someone just couldn’t be any other than the biggest YouTube sensation at the moment - Corpse Husband.

I’m close friends with Poki - her and I were roommates at one point too - so her inviting me to play Among Us with them wasn’t so strange. One or two games, I thought, nothing unusual there, just friendly curtesy. I wasn’t expecting to warm up to the group of famous streamers nor did I expect them to welcome me among them so easily, mostly because my channel is so small and practically invisible to the YouTube algorithm. But soon enough, I became a permanent member of the team, making friends with every single one of those YouTubers I practically thought of a celebrities.

This journey of branching out to other content creators has proven itself to be surprisingly pleasant and has packed my book of friendships to the brim. All of that came unexpectedly, along with a wave of new subs and a higher view count. However, as I mentioned, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I came to finally understand what my high school friends were talking about when they were head over heels for a boy - the butterflies in the stomach whenever he speaks your name; the importance of the laugh you share with him, how special and different it is; how cool it is to be impostors with him - ok they never said that, obviously, but it’s what I have as a substitute to the ‘when the two of you make eye-contact’ bullshit since Corpse and I have never seen each other in person. That is, of course, because of him being a faceless YouTuber and me being a self-conscious and insecure girl.

We do talk all the time though - texting, calling, chilling on Discord, you name it. Our conversations range from deeply philosophical to ones that might mislead someone into thinking we’re high. There’s no topic we haven’t touched upon and yet we still manage to find something new to talk about. We have plenty of similarities but we also never seem to run out of differences we slowly come across as we keep getting to know each other better and better. 

And somewhere along that journey I ended up catching feelings.

Human nature of wanting to connect with other people, I curse you for what you’ve done to me.

You might think I’m being overdramatic about the whole ordeal and that this is just a normal, natural occurrence many people experience in their life - some even daily. Well, not only am I far from used to it, but it’s also taking a toll of a different kind on me.

It’s like a constant slap to the face. 

That slap turned into a punch when Corpse and I started following each other on Instagram and I started getting daily reminders of how out of my depth I am with this crush on him. In over my head, especially when you look at all those girls whose pics and videos he reposts on his story. Imagine how that makes me feel, what that does to me - puts me back into the ‘Constantly not good enough‘ basket, the one I’ve been fighting to get out of all my life. In the past and in different contexts I could easily say that it was all just my mind hating me intensely but now - now that I know for a fact I’m not good enough and don’t fit Corpse’s criteria - it hurts ten times as much. I’m not one to do shit for someone’s attention or to attract someone’s eyes, but it really hurts my feelings. Often times, it also leads me to doing dumb things and making rash decisions. 

Like the one I made two days ago.

Imagine me cringing and shaking my head at my own stupidity as I admit this: I, in a frenzy, ordered a whole e-girl getup with overnight delivery. 

Wait, hold up, it gets worse. 

I received it yesterday and spent the whole day regretting that decision, but then, in my most insecure hours - which was somewhere around midnight - I equipped the get-up, took a picture and posted it on my Instagram page. First full body pic I’ve ever posted on there. First pic I’ve posted there of any kind. There to stay, not to be gone in twenty four hours. First pic, and it’s not even of me. It’s of who I want to be in order to fit someone’s criteria. And that fucking stings.

As you might imagine, I’ve spent today’s day regretting that decision as well. Recently my mood’s been nothing but regretting rash decisions that have surfaced under the influence of my ridiculous, constantly-present insecurities. And I would’ve probably gotten over it rather quickly had I not received a message from Corpse that read:

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic“

I didn’t open the message, I peeped at it as it was a notification on my lock screen. It’s still there, an unread notification. It’s been two hours since I received it and I cannot think of a single thing to say in response to that. 

Truth is, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of so many things right now.

I’m afraid of becoming that girl in the photo, cause I’m most definitely not her.

I’m afraid of letting Corpse down by admitting I’m not her.

I’m afraid of what my own mind has made me do because it hates me so much and I’m terrified of what it might do in the future.

I’m afraid and stranded on things to do.

You can’t be her forever, you know. Being her won’t make your insecurities go away, it’ll only make them worse. Haven’t you learned that by now?

I sigh, frustrated and irritated with myself as I grab my phone and tap on the notification, finally deciding to face the music and allow my instincts to carry me through the interaction. Improvisation, that’s one of the few things I’m good at. Let’s hope it doesn’t fail me.

I’m just about to type out my response - not sure what it’s gonna say - when I give the message Corpse has sent me a second glance.  I furrow my brows, finding there’s more to it than that peep through the notification let me see.

“Didn’t think of you with an e-girl aesthetic. You’re personality is so bright and colorful, I could’ve never imagined you were into the darks and blacks“

Because I’m not

I fail to realize until the message has been sent that my thoughts are exactly what I typed out and sent.

And honestly, I’m glad. It feels like I’ve spoken my truth, like I’ve lifted a huge boulder off my chest.

With that rare confidence in mind I go on and delete the picture.

In its spot, I post a picture I just now took - a mirror selfie in my homey get-up consisting of hot pink sweatpants and an oversized blue tee, my hair in a messy bun, my face free of make-up.

I caption it: ‘Oops, had the e-girl filter on for the last one. This is filterless me tho so...Hi 🥴’

A lot better, I’m surprised to hear my inner voice say. I hope I don’t get used to all this kindness on my brain’s part, probably won’t last, but damn if I don’t milk every second of it.

Just then, I receive a new message from non other than Corpse.

“Now that’s the girl I see when I think of you. She’s super cute 😉“

My, oh my, who would’ve guessed Corpse has a game like that - and by that I mean the ability to make me blush so intensely with only a text message.

Now ain’t that better than being someone else, Y/N?

It sure is, it sure is.

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[wyofabdoms]

Ten Days- Day Three

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Javier is shot and refuses to take his antibiotic while recuperating. You get creative and make him a deal that ensures he will take his medicine everyday: one kiss for one pill. It's gonna be a long 10 days.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character injury, slow burn, mutually unrequited, medical inaccuracies, swearing, soft Javi

Word Count: 1917

Note: Javi gets himself into a bit of a situation.  

Read the full series on Ao3

Late Sunday afternoon you find yourself glancing at the clock for what feels like the ten thousandth time.  You haven't heard a peep from your partner since you left his apartment mid morning yesterday.  He knows where you live and has your number...if he needed something surely he would have called you.  He’d changed his own bandages yesterday (albeit badly), and could obviously move around his apartment if he needed to.  For the better part of your day, you had bandied about the idea of just not showing up at his apartment at all.  Why should you serve him up the opportunity to continue this stupid power game; this one pill, one kiss arrangement?  

You had expected to make him the deal the first night, then figured he would see reason and be an adult and take the antibiotic on his own to prevent infection like any other normal human healing from a gunshot wound. You had assumed it would just be that first kiss; using his attraction to you to get him to do what you wanted.   But, you’d been stupid.  You’d let him alter the terms. Now you knew he would never let you hear the end of it if you reneged on your part of the deal.  His little stunt yesterday with the chair and his tongue made it clear that he not only enjoyed the prospect of 8 more opportunities to kiss you, but that he would most likely turn up the intensity each day.  That particular thought made something deep within you spark and unfurl, tightening in your lower belly and sending a shiver up your spine.

Truthfully, you hadn’t exactly hated those two kisses.  You had found yourself wandering aimlessly around your apartment several times today, having started with a destination and goal in mind, but finding your thoughts wandering back to Javier and completely forgetting where you were headed or why by the time you got there.  Yesterday you had stormed back into your apartment and taken the longest cold shower of your life.  Your body seemed to think for itself as it reacted to the memories of Javi’s tongue, the feel of his mustache, his dark eyes peering at you, the feel of his toned muscles beneath your hand.  

If you went back to his apartment and he insisted on continuing with this, you weren’t entirely sure your resolve would be able to convince your body not to give in to more with this maddening man.  That absolutely infuriated you....and excited you a little, too.

Finally, you looked at the clock; it read a quarter past 8.  You’d just go down quickly and make sure he had at least eaten something.  You’d keep your distance from him; there was no way in hell you’d let him catch you off guard today.

As soon as you enter his apartment, you know something isn’t right when you immediately notice his sidearm on the kitchen counter.  The apartment is dark; no muted flickers from the television, no lamps or lights streaming from the living room or kitchen.  You glance in his bedroom and small office and find them both dark and empty as well.  A chill run through you and you feel a small kernel of panic seed its cold shell in the pit of your stomach.  He knew better than to not have his weapon on his person or near him.  What the fuck, Peña?  Where the hell did you go?  You are about to race to your own apartment and alert the embassy when you notice the bathroom door ajar at the end of the hall.  You carefully nudge it open with your foot, one hand hovering over your own weapon at your hip.  

“Jesus, Peña!”  Your eyes widen as you take in your shirtless partner sprawled on the tile floor, his back propped against the side of the bathtub and legs stretched haphazardly in front of him, head tilted back against the porcelain and eyes closed.  Around him bits and pieces of torn and bloodied bandage and tape littered the floor, along with his shirt, the pill bottle of antibiotics, and what appeared to be the remaining contents of a first aid kit.  All of this is barely visible in the dark of the bathroom, the only source of light from the street light shining through the small window illuminating Javier’s face, making him look jaundiced. You quickly paw the wall for the light switch and your cold panic rises as you snap on the overhead light and take in your partner in full light.  

His face is grey and covered with a thin sheen of sweat.  His eyes come open for a moment and look towards you but then quickly close again against the harsh light and he lets his head thump back against the tub.  With the light on you are better able to see that the bandage at his side is merely held in place by his arm clenching against his stomach.  He must have been in the middle of changing it out when…

“What happened?!” You kneel next to him, grateful that he’s awake, but trying to piece together what exactly had led him to his present situation.  You gingerly move his arm out of the way, removing the untaped gauze and looking closely at his wound.  Though his stitches looked fine, the skin around the injury was bright red and swollen. “Why the hell are you trying to change your bandage in the dark?” 

“Wasn’t dark when I started.”  He bites out.  The sun had gone down several hours ago.  Your eyes flash up to his drawn face as realization hits you: he’s been here on the bathroom floor for more than three hours.  A pang of guilt shoots through your chest and you swallow hard.

You place the back of your hand on his forehead for a moment, then along the side of his face.  He sighs, eyes still closed, and leans into your touch like it’s a balm.  He doesn’t seem to be running a fever which is a good thing; the sweat must be from the exertion of trying to change the bandage. The doctors had warned that his injury might swell.  Assuring him you would be right back and ordering him not to move, you hurry to the kitchen to grab ice.  Sweeping the objects on the floor around him out of your way, you sit next to him and gently place the ice against his side.  He hisses in a sharp breath at the cold and jolts away, causing another stab of pain to his side and ripping a small groan of pain from his throat.  He knocks his head back against the tub three times (a little harder than you were completely comfortable with) and releases a long, growling sigh before stilling once more and taking a deep breath through his nose.

The two of you sit that way in silence for a long while, serenaded by the occasional sound of a passing car on the street, the slow drip of water coming from somewhere, and the sound of each other’s breathing echoing off of the tiles.  Silences between the two of you aren’t really new.  You have spent hours sometimes sitting in each other’s presence, not speaking but not really needing to as you pored over reports or studied files, content with the long stretches of affable silence.  You usually found silences with your partner reassuring.  Now, though, the silence that stretched between you was tarnished with your own guilt at having not checked on him sooner.  

You check your watch, confirming that enough time has passed to remove the ice.  The swelling seems to have gone down slightly, which is a good sign, but it was still more red than you would like.  You’d need to be sure he iced it again before the night was over.  Making sure the area is dry, you carefully collect the gauze and tape and set to work rebandaging his side.  Despite your worry for his well-being, you try not to notice the way the skin of his taut torso feels beneath your fingers or the trail of dark hair that adorns his lower stomach and disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans.  You smooth the last piece of tape down and glance up, only to find that his head is no longer tilted back and he’s watching your face, his eyes soft.  Those brown eyes seem to seize your own and you can’t bring yourself to look away.  

“I’m sorry,” you say softly.  His eyes flash with a question.

“What for?”  You look down at your hands, folding them on your lap.  

“For not coming to check on you sooner.”  You force yourself to look back up at him.  “ I was...I dunno.  I was embarrassed, I guess.  Well, maybe not embarrassed...I was just…”  You take a deep breath.  “I was anxious after….after yesterday…” you let that trail off.  He knows what you mean.   He looks at you for a few moments longer, his face unreadable.  Then he breaks your gaze and reaches for the pill bottle on the floor next to him.  Your stomach drops as he spills a pill into his hand quickly and swallows it.  Without looking at you, he replaces the lid on the bottle, then reaches to take one of your hands with one of his.  He turns your hand palm up and draws it up to place it against his cheek, mirroring your earlier touch to his face.  Once again, he leans into your touch and closes his eyes, letting the seconds stretch and widen as he reveles in the feel of your skin against his, then he turns his face and places a soft kiss on the palm of your hand, holding his lips against your skin for several moments.  His eyes slip open and meet yours over the edge of your hand.  Your breath hitches softly when you see the longing and desire there.

As though in slow motion, he releases and returns your hand to its original spot on your lap, his eyes never leaving yours.  You sit stunned for a moment, unsure of what to do next.  

“Guess it’s a good thing I was motivated to take my meds, huh?  This all could have been a lot worse.” He gestures around at the mess of bandages and paraphernalia around you.  He sighs and slowly sits up straighter.  “I think I’m probably gonna need some help getting up and to the couch, though.”  You know your face shows the confusion you’re feeling.  Was that it?  He gets one kiss per pill and THAT’S what he uses today’s to do?  A tiny voice in the back of your head grumbles in disappointment, but you quickly smash that voice, snapping out of your thoughts and standing up, offering both hands down to help him get to his feet.  

When he’s standing in front of you, he grips your hands for a moment, keeping you closer than you know you should be.  Your guard goes up, ready to call him out for having already used his daily dose should he try to go in for another kiss.  He lifts your hands in his up in a gesture to bring your eyes up to meet his own. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says in response to your earlier apology.  “I knew you’d find me eventually.  You always do.”

Day One

Day Two

Day Four

[itsthebiiii]

A messy summary of Ikepri Yves’ route from chap 16

Hey so it's me again lol. I know I'm SUUUPER late to the party and Nokto's route is out mah boiiiiis, but I finally finished one of the endings and I'm here to deliver them delicious spoilers so... here they are under the cut. Also, somehow more detailed than the last one but it's still as messy don't worry

also, sorry if there are any errors or inaccuracies!

So about that plot, well, some shit is going down that requires the princes to go to battle so they do that (once again, breezed through that part 😅). MC's quite worried bout Yves but he promises he'd return so they gucci.

While on the battlefield, everyone's all exhausted and full of blood on their hands, well, except for Yves. Leon and the gang noticed how he doesn't kill any one of the Obsidian soldiers and he just kept pushing them down. I think Yves was doing this because he doesn't want to kill one of his own because, no matter what he's got some Obsidian blood in his veins. Anyway, they notice a soldier about to attack Yves from behind, but before anyone could bat an eye, Licht comes to his rescue and gets injured. And yall know the drill, Yves feels guilty, yada yada.

After three days, the princes return and MC welcomes them. She noticed everyone looked messed up except for Yves, and when she called him it seemed like he didn't even hear her. MC is concerned bout what happened out there, but before she could ask some more, Jin asks her to take care of Licht's wound. She agrees, and while tending to his injury, Licht tells her what happened. He also told her there's one thing MC can do for Yves, but before he can say what, Jin and Clavis barges in the room with impeccable timing and some booze, announcing that they're gonna drink up for getting out alive so they gather everyone up lolol they rowdy af. Yves doesn't show up tho which makes MC even more worried

MC immediately comes to a realization that Yves might be blaming himself for what happened to Licht so she searches for him until she finds him in the kitchen. He still looked like he wasn't himself, so MC tries comforting him until he snappedt and tried pushing her away (I swear these two) Yves was like "yo wtf why do you even care for me I don't deserve that shit" and then that scene from the PV happens. Yves cried bout how much he hates himself more than anyone does and he wishes he was someone that ain't him. MC just stayed silent and listened to him pour his heart out ugh poor boi

Some time later, the princes gathered up again because they received a letter(?) from Obsidian. It said they want Rhodolite to send Yves back to Obsidian or else some shit will go down. They obviously think it's a trap of some sort but Yves agrees anyway so... that's decided. MC doesn't know of this until she hears from Luke. She rushes to Yves' room and saw him packing up. MC was also apprehensive about him going (or returning?) to Obsidian, but Yves just smiled and told her not to worry or smth. Also he was like "remember all that crap I told you that night at the kitchen? Sike, those were L I E S" and MC's just like "ye right" but because she was unable to form a response to any of that, she left the room teary eyed, with Yves also equally sad. MC returns to her room and while crying her heart out she realizes one teensy tiny detail: she's in love with Yves *insert surprised pikachu face*

So the day came for Yves to depart, but MC decides to stay in her room. Rio sees her in her state and told her "the MC I know and love wouldn't sulk around in her room smh go out there and chase yo mans" and after some persuasion MC heads out. She managed to catch up to Yves and talk to him for like 3 minutes. Also in those 3 minutes, she finally confessed her feelings and kissed him (Yves: 😲 guards: 😳😳😳) She's like "ye remember when I said I won't fall for u? Ye that kinda happened so I guess I'm yours for all of eternity" She also says she'll be waiting for him and gives him her memo pad before he leaves.

In the carriage, Yves reads MC's notes, there were some notes written about the princes but later they soon become notes about what they had done together: going to town, eating sum food, etc. He realizes that she turned it into a whole ass diary and it was mainly about him 😭 Yves was like "girl don't even know this ain't a diary... baka na no??? *sad princely sobbing*"

Back at the castle, the remaining princes gathered up again, this time with MC, and they talked about Obsidian's real motives. They talked about how Yves shouldn't have gone to Obsidian because the moment he interacts with them, he could or would get killed. MC was worried as she listens to them making plans and when Licht decided he would go first to retrieve Yves, he drags MC along with him because he's good at reading expressions and our girl MC here really wants to be useful to the story.

Meanwhile, Yves' carriage suddenly stops and one of his soldiers alerts him that there's a fuckton of Obsidian soldiers ahead and Yves realizes they've been set up. He instructs his men to return to the castle and leave him, also he warns them that there miiiight be some more Obsidian peeps on their way back so he commands them to get out alive. Despite their apprehension, well they had to obey Yves so they did just that.

MEANWHILE meanwhile, Licht and MC go to Obsidian (I don't recall if they bumped into Yves' army but meh) and they stay back a bit to watch stuff unfold. There, they see Yves talking to some Obsidian leaders or smth and the leaders were talking shit to him bout how worthless he actually is and all that crap. They were like "yo you're cursed with sum bad magic huh" Yves was like "Ye, I thought so too. But ya know what? I met someone who kept looking at me straight in the eye and focused on all my good aspects. That person made me stop denying myself. (MC: oh shiz he's talking about the stuff I told him before he left) So no matter how much I didn't want to accept myself, no matter how much I wished to be someone else, I mustn't deny the me that she believed in, I mustn't give up on myself! So ye. I'm Yves Kloss, the 5th Prince of Rhodolite!" YES my boi gain that confidence!!!

So the Obsidian peeps were like "btch u done with ur last words? Just so u know the men u let escape are prolly dead anyway so, how bout u die too aye? Pls die" and when the Obsidian soldiers point their blades at him, Licht decides it was a good time to show up

So ye, before Yves could take a blow, Licht blocked it with his sword. Yves was like "wtf r u two doing here???!" And MC replied with "we're saving you, duh" and Licht backs her up with "ye what she said" the Obsidian peeps were all ???? but they decided to kill them two as well. MC's like "ye no we have back up otw" but the Obsidian peeps thought she was just fronting. So Yves and Licht decides to buy them more time by fighting (but not killing) them. They may be strong but they're exhausted as well, then one soldier finds an opening and aims for Licht. Yves sees this and gets in front of Licht, getting his arm injured in the process.

They try stalling for a few more minutes until the gang finally arrives and they're relieved Yves and Licht are still alive. Jin was like "yo wtf we didn't agree to send Yves here just to get our princes killed in a place like this" and the Obsidian guys are like "we just wanted to welcome Prince Yves until he pointed his sword at us 👉👈🥺💦" but Jin and the other princes obviously ain't buying that crap.

So playtime's over and after all that political stuff, Leon's like "aye Yves, since u have Rhodolite and Obsidian blood, ur technically our bridge, so wtf do we do now?" And Yves says the four kingdoms should sign a peace treaty and also form an alliance to end all those beef. MC's happy for him because he finally achieved his dream of uniting Rhodolite and Obsidian through him. And ye, everybody agrees so everybody happy

BUT WAIT! Sariel announces that Belle needs to choose the next king at that very moment (like wtf couldn't they wait until they get home?) But hey, since they're forming alliances anyway. So MC's pressured and all until she realizes, ayo wait up... ya'll know what the kingdoms need? Not one, not two, but EIGHT leaders! "Ye fam, I appoint all 8 princes to lead the kingdoms... momentarily until I make my final decision." Sariel's like "That ain't allowed" and MC responds with "I know fam. But the kingdoms are in a pretty unstable situation, and we need these 8 dudes to support the kingdoms... after everything is settled and stable again do I choose the king" and they were like "if that's what Belle says, then aight smh" Then everyone finally goes home, but not before Yves and MC shares a moment and Yves faints or falls asleep due to exhaustion

Back at the castle, MC is summoned by Sariel and he shows her there is only one petal left of the rose. He tells her "I know you've technically done your job, but until you choose A KING, will you stay in the castle?" Of course MC agrees and Sariel tells her that he thinks she made the best decision for the situation.

After MC leaves, Yves enters the room and asks Sariel if he has seen MC. Sariel has half a mind to tell the truth, but where's the fun in that right? He tells Yves that MC's preparing to leave since she has done her job and according to the Belle clause, 'once the king is chosen, Belle can't interact with or see him forever' or smth like that and Yves was like "Screw that bs!" and ran to MC's room immediately, leaving Sariel to laugh in evil 😏

In her room, MC was worried about Yves' wounds so she decides to pay him a visit, when she hears knocks on her door that she recognizes was Yves'. He wasted no time entering the room and pinning MC to her bed (SQUEAAAAL) and she was like "??? ya good fam?!" And Yves replied "WHERE TF DO U THINK UR GOING HUH??"

(Ya know what I think imma put a bit of their convo here lol)

MC: To see you?

Yves: And what? So you can say goodbye and tell me we won't see each other forever? BAKA

MC: ...Eh?

Yves: I don't care what Sariel or the others decided. I can't accept this! MC, I can't even take it when you're not beside me... what will I do if we can't see each other ever again? Just thinking about it makes me crazy... You said you'll be mine forever, didn't you? Then I... I'm yours forever as well! Because I was the one who fell (in love) first!

MC: !!!

Yves: I love love LOVE you, you idiot! So don't go saying we won't be together! The Yves Kloss won't allow that even if the world turns upside down! (not sure about that last part)

SO YE. As much as that warmed MC's heart, she was like "i ain't going anywhere. Bruh Sariel's messing with u" and Yves is EMBARRASSED but he doesn't deny it anyway. He decides to say some more cute stuff so lemme put it down here xD

"MC, a lot of unexpected things happened in my life. But the most unexpected thing that happened to me is falling in love with you. Even though I swore I would never fall for you, I noticed I have. You said you were the first one to fall for me, but I think my feelings for you are bigger. MC, I'm stupidly in love with you."

And they argue about who loves the other more lolol then they do the deed 🤭

So some time passed, and the other princes were throwing MC some pickup lines (they were teasing Yves about taking the crown and the MC lolol) and Yves just stood there like "fam?? Aren't yall a lil too close?? Sariel help!!1! Licht and Chevalier too???" And he whisks MC away to his room. The other princes just smiled fondly at the two and Leon comments, "Maybe just meeting someone can fill up the gaps in a person's heart" and he recalls how they tried filling Yves' loneliness but somehow could not fill up the last piece. Until MC shows up and did just that. Jin was like "heh, that sounds like destiny" and Leon confirms that it is 🥺

Back at Yves' room, he has MC pinned down again and he declares that he needs to do his best to continue staying by MC's side. And MC says "me too fam" then she asks him a very important question: "Do you still want to be someone other than you?"

And he replies with:

"It's because you showed me my good traits and loved me for who I am that I don't hate the me I am now. Besides, if I were someone else, then I wouldn't be able to fall in love with you like this. It's because I'm like this, that you found me. That's why, from the bottom of my heart, I'm happy I'm me; I'm happy I did my best to live" ugly sobbing in the background 😭😭😭

So that beautiful CG appears, and Yves tells MC that line, "When I fell in love with you, it's as if the bad magic disappeared. Thank you... for teaching me what true love is."

A few days later, the two were at the library and Yves tells MC that before, he never knew what love is. But of course it's different now, because he tells her, "For me, the meaning of love is... you, MC."

~FIN~

YALL I'M STILL SOBBING BRUUUH 😭😭😭 this whole route was a blast 100/10 would read again (after I finish Nokto, I guess lolol) But ye. Yves is my best boi in IkePri because I'm a sucker for these tropes it's just so sooooft.

So I'm still undecided whether I should read the epilogue or nah because I need like 20 more affection pts? and I really wanna do Nokto's route... idk man

Well this was longer than I expected, so if you reached the end, have some more leFtOvERs from Yves! 🥧

[ahgasescenarios]

Corrupting the Innocent Pt. 4- Dong Sicheng

Word count: 1.8k

Genre: angst

Plot summary: In which (Y/N) decides to “help” innocent exchange student Sicheng win over his crush. Except she has ulterior motives and Sicheng is too clueless to notice.

 If Sicheng was the first guy you had taken such a strong interest in, he was also the only one capable of making your stomach churn as it had after Rosé’s update on their date. You weren’t accustomed to guilt, but it was now marking its territory, making itself known to you. And you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last you’d see of the emotion. Sicheng had been MIA after the date, you hadn’t heard as much as a peep from him since.

 When you woke that morning, you pushed the covers back over your head and delayed reality for just a little while longer. You half-heartedly made your way to your solace, coffee. Your measured cup of comfort was gone before you knew it, warming up your insides on this cold, rainy day. You looked outside, a distant look about you. If someone were to look, they might say there was a tinge of nostalgia to your features. But nobody was looking.

It wasn’t the best day to be running errands, but here you were debating between two flavors of ramen noodles. After deliberation, kimchi was declared victorious and with a grocery bag full of goods, you walked back to your dorm, whistling absentmindedly.

 “(Y/N).” You looked up at the call of your name, the sight of Sicheng baffling you. He looked different. More serious, if that was possible. His lips were pursed sternly as though he was a parent on the verge of grounding his child. His attire made him look a few years older than he was.

“Sicheng.” Was all you could muster up. He gestured for you to talk inside and you complied. Only when he was seated comfortably on your couch did he speak up.

“Sorry I haven’t been in touch; I needed some time to think.”

“Is everything okay?” You asked, putting away your groceries in the next room.

“Yeah, I just had some things I needed to deal with on my own.” He smiled. Not so genuinely.

“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do.” And surprisingly enough, you meant it.

“Thanks. Hey, are you doing anything today?” He pondered.

“Not really. You?”

“Would you want to grab lunch with me?” You quirked an eyebrow but accepted the offer.

Once you had changed into nicer clothes, you let him guide the way to his favorite Chinese restaurant. He was glowing when you stepped inside like he was exactly where he was supposed to be at that moment. The smile Sicheng bore from ear to ear was telling enough as he ordered for the both of you in fluent Chinese. Not once did he indulge in small talk, Sicheng was one of the few people who asked questions and cared to hear the answer. And because you were in a good mood that day, you let yourself reveal more than you were usually comfortable sharing. The conversation had somehow floated back to your family history.

“Is that why you have trouble letting people in?” You were taken aback.

“I guess it is, I haven’t had great experiences with people so I tend to keep my guards up.” You forced a smile and he got the hint, moving on to a different subject.

The following weeks were spent mostly in the presence of Sicheng, venturing to different restaurants and locations to spend time together. You were comfortable around him and that was saying a lot for you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to understand without you having to utter a word, or maybe it was how getting to know him had unlocked an entirely different side of him that kept you wanting to know more. Whichever it was, your original plan had slowly faded into memory. The lessons had been put on hold indefinitely and when you pondered about his crush on Rosé, the most you got out of him was a shrug. It was a thing of the past, then.  

 Today’s “friend date” had taken the form of McDonald’s, a much-needed escape from the confines of your apartment. You felt so cooped up in there, a big, juicy BigMac was perhaps the only way to get you in a better mood. But you could tell something was off with Sicheng today, he seemed distant- almost as though he was keeping something from you. He walked you home uncharacteristically silent and you drifted into your thoughts, wondering what could be on your friend’s mind.

 You were already inside, waiting to bid him goodbye when something came over him- maybe this was what he had been holding back before. His feet acted before his mind could protest, he grabbed your face between his hands and crashed his lips on yours. You reciprocated the kiss; you had taught him well. You thread your fingers in his hair, pulling only to deepen the kiss. His hands found your waist again and he pulled you towards him so your bodies were flush against each other.

“What did you do that for?”

“I wanted to.” He stated matter-of-factly. “You know, to practice.” He blurted out, but you didn’t buy it one bit. “Well, if it’s in the name of practice, I have another lesson for you.”  You toyed with him, gauging how far he’d take this.

“Sit on the couch.”

He did, like an obedient puppy.

“Now that you’ve mastered kissing, I think it’s time you master making out, yeah?” He gulped as you made your way over to him.

“Yeah.” Was all the confirmation you needed before you straddled his waist, moving your hair to one side tantalizingly slow so he was watching your every move.  

“Now, what you’ll want to do is either A) rest your hands here,” you moved his hands to your waist, “or B) here,” you moved his hands lower so they were a squeeze away from grabbing your ass. His eyes widened. You smirked back up at him as you got settled in his lap. His hands rested where you had left them, showing no signs of budging. B it was.

“And when you’re making out, there’s going to be more tongue, still good?” He nodded vehemently. Gee, someone was eager. And it wasn’t you, how the tables had turned.

You leaned in and he met you halfway, lips colliding in a heated kiss. You played with his hair while he didn’t shy away from grabbing your ass like you had instructed him to. He was even guiding your hips, so you were grinding him. You made out until you felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen and your lips were swollen in the most delicious way which was when you deemed it long enough to conclude the “lesson”.  

“How was that?” You inquired.

“Good, yeah.” He seemed slightly uncomfortable and as you shifted in his lap, you could feel why that was.

“Oh.” You smirked at him and he blushed a deep crimson, the memory of how shy he originally was resurfacing. You stood up and within the blink of an eye, a pillow was hiding his prominent arousal.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower if you want anything make yourself at home.”

You need space after that stunt, and you figured a shower would make for a good enough excuse. You had envisioned that making out with Sicheng would feel good, but butterfly-flutteringly good? You hadn’t seen that one coming. But the way he had been kissing you, so genuinely told a different story. And you had never felt more desired than when his instincts took over and started guiding your hips to his growing bulge, desperate for more. Lust at its finest. It had your mind going to filthy places and your self-control faltering. As these new feelings of lust and love intertwined with each other in your brain, you scrubbed any physical evidence off of yourself.

 Sicheng was still frozen in the living room, finally getting up once his situation was taken care of. He felt the need for a pick-me-up and his trained eyes spotted your coffee machine from a mile away, that would do. He sang tunes to himself as he gave the machine something to do, brought out from his reverie by what he thought was someone texting him. He checked his phone, nothing. He skimmed the rest of the kitchen, eyes landing on your phone. He walked over, meaning to tell you who had left you a message until his eyes landed on your phone, more precisely on the words displayed across the screen.

Rosé: How’s it going with Sicheng? Gotten him in bed yet? 😉

His eyes must’ve been deceiving him, you wouldn’t do that to him. He blinked a million times in a desperate attempt to convince himself that he hadn’t read that right. But it was becoming convincingly harder to deny what was right in front of him. You picked just this moment to walk back in. The look on Sicheng’s face alone was enough for you to know something was wrong, very wrong.

“What the hell is this, (Y/N)?” He shoved your phone in your face accusingly and as you read your screen, your heart dropped.

“Sicheng, I can explain.”

“How the fuck could you possibly explain that?”

This was bad, really bad. You knew Sicheng didn’t get angry easily, but here he was smoke coming out of his ears and it was all your fault. Your phone was still in his hand and when you fell silent, he scrolled up. His eyes skimmed over your prior conversation with Rosé, it did nothing to calm his overflowing anger. You stood there with your head down, you should’ve known he was going to find out. Naively, you had hoped you’d be the one to tell them when the time was “right”.

“A game? Is that all I am to you?” He breathed through gritted teeth. “Even now? Jesus (Y/N), how could you?” The look of disdain that was directed at you made you feel worse about yourself than you ever had.

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“You’re sorry! Yeah, ‘cause that’ll fix everything. How could you do this? I thought we were friends, at the very least. But this- you’re something else (Y/N).”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I’d catch feelings for-“

“Oh, cut the bullshit. You knew damn right what you were doing and you’re only apologizing now because I found out.” He shook his head at you. “You disgust me.”

And with those last words echoing in your mind as though they were the only words to exist, he stormed out. It took a while for you to move out of the spot he had left you in. Your heart felt like it had been shattered by a hammer and only then did you allow yourself to admit that somewhere along the line, you had felt more than just lust towards Sicheng. But it was too late to think about that now because you had just ruined everything.

___________________________________________________

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

a/n: it’s ya girl again back at it with another part to this story! thank u to everyone supporting this story, it means the world to me that you guys enjoy the work of my imagination:) I’m ngl it feels really good to write again and I’m rlly glad to have a platform for ppl to read if they want u know. Okay im rambling thanks for reading ily, be well xx

[ericsonclan]

Is That a Kiss?

Summary: Louis is too curious after the night of the truth or dare game and has taken up spying on Violet and Prisha to see if they’re actually a couple. Clementine (somewhat) reluctantly joins in.

Read on A03:

It had been a pretty good day for Clementine. She and A.J. had gone fishing in the morning, then she’d spent the afternoon gardening with Omar in the greenhouse before dropping off some clippings to Willy for the rabbit hutch. She had wanted to give her leg a rest for a minute while talking to Louis, but she couldn’t seem to find him anywhere. No one she’d asked had seen him around and – astonishingly - he wasn’t in the music room either. She was sure it was nothing, but she couldn’t quiet the small buzz of paranoia in the back of her mind. She couldn’t rest until she’d found him.

The last place she’d expected to come across Louis was crouching surreptitiously behind the knee-high walls on the west side of the campus, peering over the edge with the watchtower binoculars pressed to his face. Whatever he was observing had completely absorbed his attention as he didn’t even hear her approach him from behind. Clementine stealthily bent forward, placing her mouth beside his ear. “Watching anything interesting?”

Louis just about jumped out of his skin. “Clem,” he breathed, a hand placed over his heart as he gasped for breath. “Didn’t see you there,” “Want to fill me in on what was so pressing that you needed to take the binoculars from the watchtower to watch it,” Louis looked at the binoculars in his hand. “Alright, I’ll admit that snagging these was probably not my most noble move. But Aasim is on guard duty. He won’t miss anything with those eagle eyes of his and the stick up his ass. But more importantly, the reconnaissance mission I’m on takes precedence in terms of its pressing importance,” Clementine quirked a knowing brow. “Really? There’s a threat inside these walls that’s bigger than those outside of it?” “Not a threat. It’s easier if I just show you,” Louis offered her the binoculars then stepped aside so Clementine could take his place. “Just a little bit up and to the left, past those bushes,” Too curious to resist, Clementine took the binoculars and raised them as directed. After a second, her eyes fell upon the objects of Louis’ peeping: Prisha and Violet sitting together on a bench set up in a quiet corner of the campus. A book rested on the bench between them. Clementine lowered the binoculars and glared at Louis. “Really, Louis? You’ve resorted to spying on them now?” “It has been two weeks since the kiss and they have done nothing since then! They don’t even acknowledge that it happened!” “So you’ve asked them?” “What? No! That would be way too invasive!” “And this isn’t?!” “From this distance, Violet can’t see me, and if she can’t see me, she can’t punch me,” His true motives came to light so easily. “Louis, c’mon, this is crazy. It’s pretty obvious that Prisha’s just taking her turn in the reading program she and Aasim have started. She’s worked with me as well,” Louis scoffed, snatching the binoculars from Clementine. “Need I remind you of Violet’s words when Aasim was telling us about the reading program? She said, and I quote, ‘I would rather pull out my eyeballs one at a time and feed them to walkers than read a fucking book.’ You mean to tell me that the girl who said that is now reading happily? It’s a ruse, I tell you! A cover for their secret rendezvous!” With that, Louis returned to his watch, neck craned forward to catch the smallest detail. Clem let out a world-weary sigh. “Fine, just tell me this – when can I get the binoculars back to return them to the watchtower?” “It won’t be long now. Any second and they’ll be all over each other.” The couple sat in complete silence as the minutes ticked by. Louis didn’t budge. Finally, Clem heaved a sigh. “Ok, that’s it-” “Holy shit, it’s happening!” “What? What’s happening?” “Their hands just brushed against each other!” Clementine groaned. “They’re sharing a book, Louis! Of course their hands will touch from time to time!” “Oh my god. Prisha’s gonna kiss her! I repeat, Prisha’s going in for a kiss!” “What? Let me see that!” Clementine reached for the binoculars, but Louis had an ironclad grip on them. “Louis, give me a turn!” “I’m sorry, Clem, but you’re going to have to wrench these binoculars from my cold, dead hands before I miss a second of this!” “Louis, let me see!” With that, Clementine crouched on top of her boyfriend’s shoulders, attempting to get some sort of leverage over him that would help her cause. Louis began wriggling about in defiance, trying to throw her off of him. Instead he ended up falling on his side, leading them both to tumble to the ground in a heap of arms and legs, still vying for the binoculars. “Clem, just let me have this!” “Louis, shut up, they’ll hear us!” “And what exactly should we not be hearing?” The pair froze. They looked up to see Prisha and Violet standing before them, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Their cover was blown. Violet placed a levelling gaze at the two of them. “What are you doing here?” They were at a loss for words. There wasn’t any plausible reason for them to be crouching behind the wall like a bunch of hooligans. “Sex!” Louis splurted out. “We were going to have sex!” “On the ground,” “That’s right. We just got caught up in the moment, right, Clem?” “Yes,” Clementine felt a little part of her die inside as she nodded. “We were going to have sex here. On the ground,” Prisha placed her arm on her waist. “Don’t you two have a bed for that?” Louis laughed nervously. “A bed! Of course! Why didn’t we think of that? Silly us!” He grabbed Clementine’s hand and helped pull her up as they both rose to their feet. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have to put that excellent pointer to use. Have a great day!” With that he was off like a shot, Clementine awkwardly straggling behind him. Violet and Prisha shared a look, then turned back to the binoculars which had been abandoned in the kerfuffle. Prisha knelt to pick them up. “I suppose we should return these,” “Do you think they saw anything?” “If they did, they’re too mortified to say anything to anyone else,” “That’s for sure. So…” Violet dragged a foot along the ground, tracing a line in the dirt. “Tomorrow then? Same time, same place?” Prisha smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,”

[johnnys-so]

got7! street racing au: Jaebum (Part 1)

Group: GOT7 World: Street Racing au Parts: Prologue, Jaebum (Part 1) Racers: Jaebum, Yugeyom, Youngjae

A/N: Hello! First off, thank you so much for the love and reaction that this fic has received. I am so motivated to see this through till the end that I’ve been planning like crazy. But much like relationships, I will ruin a fic if I plan it out too much. So, here is the first part of the story. I hope you can learn a little bit about our got7!racers and do let me know what you think/want to see and I’ll incorporate them into the story!!

Three cubes of ice slipped neatly into the glass. The clink of drinks being passed around at the bar was drowned by the slow lilt of a grand piano in the background. At an establishment of this stature, it was only ordinary to see the entitled heirs of Korean conglomerates mingle daintily with each other.

In his usual corner, Lee Hwan sat in the middle of his group of admirers. To call them friends, would associate an amicable nature to the otherwise stone-cold heir. Lee Hwan was known for three things within his circle of acquaintances: smart investments, fast cars and a temper to be vary of. It was rare to see him lose his cool in public; it almost never happened. But if anyone could step on his toes, it would be Im Jaebum.

“I honestly don’t know why you tolerate him. I mean, sure, he’s the best in the scene right now but you’re not so bad either. Right, Hwan?”

Someone should have warned this second son of some company that to compare Lee Hwan with anybody, was the quickest way to death. Hwan’s eyes locked momentarily onto this insignificant boy, his shoulders shifting to stare him down into submission. Before he could say another word, Hwan’s trusted friend and the manager of his racing team was quick to speak up. “Jaebum is the best because he’s in our team. He would be no one without Hwan and he should know his place before he decides to act out again.”

The growing insinuation in the room spoke volumes of the incident at Soyang Lake. In the early hours of the morning, the same group which sat huddled around Lee Hwan, had gathered in the boughs of the forest around Soyang lake. The ‘three black roses’ was an exclusive group of racing enthusiasts who met thrice a year to watch over chosen racers competing against each other in a maddening chase. They were a coming together of three princes from conglomerate families who met not only to organize and watch over the underground street racing scene, but also to shake up each other’s’ future. The Soyang Takeover was a fan-favourite. Winding roads hugged by a mystic lake on one side and death-trap cliffs on the other. For an automobile enthusiast, it provided a prime opportunity to test the skill and courage of his driver.

For Lee Hwan and Jaebum, this was a race to establish that they were still the kings of street racing in Korea.

Unlike previous times, when Jaebum had silently obliged with Hwan’s orders, this time was different. As the crowd watched, Jaebum’s car David swerved dangerously against the railing and pulled ahead of the Goliath. Its screeching tires were in harmony with the echoing cheers of a rampant crowd. The onlookers raised their glasses in blatant excitement, compliments for Jaebum pouring over their lips like honeyed liquor. At a distance, Youngjae and Yugeyom looked at each other in relief. Jaebum’s neat trick was a huge risk, especially on Soyang’s roads. But he had always managed to do the impossible, earning him and his car the rightful nickname ‘David’.

Just then at the bar, someone drew the group’s attention with a clearing of their throat.

“Hwan.” Jaebum’s deep tenor resonated softly in the air. The relationship between these men had grown tense over the last few weeks, in the wake of the race.

“Mn.”

Jaebum knew not to push Hwan when he was surrounded by his lackeys. His gaze carried over to gentle Seunghoon, the manager. At his cue, Seunghoon stood up with a flourish and scooped Jabeum by his shoulders. “Oh come now, you don’t have to be like this. Just apologise to our hyung, and he’ll surely embrace you back into his good graces.”

An uncomfortable silence followed his over the top attempt at flattery. Under his fingers, Jaebum’s shoulders tensed at the mention of an apology. He had done nothing to apologise for. Hwan had demanded a victory and that is exactly what Jaebum delivered. How he managed that delivery, was not his concern.

“I’m here for my pay.”

At the sound of money, as most people do, the entitled bunch of men scoffed. “Shamelessly asking for the money huh, these street urchins really don’t change do they.”

Hwan’s gaze brushed over the passing comment and went straight to Jaebum. Just like he had expected, he watched the man’s fingers fold into a fist. His lips grew thinner and a smudge of tension settled between his brows. Ever since he was a teenager, Jaebum had been easy to anger. But Hwan knew that eliciting anger was a fool’s knife. Anybody could do that.

As Jaebum icily slinked away from Seunghoon’s hold, a flutter of money rained in front of him. Hwan lay satisfied, a slow smirk cooking on the side of his lips. “You’re right. Of course you’re here for the pay, you deserve it Bum-ah.” Hwan lazily stood up from his chair, his hand grazing the curve of Jaebum’s shoulder. He circled his racer like a tiger on a hunt, under no visible hurry to do any damage.

As he leaned in closer, Jaebum heard the final words whispered into his ear, “I’ll just be really sad if something were to happen to your daily wages. You know how we get. We rich and spoiled brats have too many pets to take care of. You have a few people left to pay, don’t you?”

There it was. The obvious slander, packaged in glitter. Hwan didn’t need anybody else to humiliate his underlings for him. He did that job all too well himself. For Jaebum, however, this was more than humiliation. This was a warning, and he had heard it loud and clear.

Hwan’s whiskey lay unattended on the mahogany table as Jaebum crouched by it. He slowly picked up the leftover bills, counting each one under his breath. As the last bill had been folded safely in his hands, he straightened his back and looked pointedly at the ground.

“I’m sorry, Hwan.”

Hwan waved a dismissing hand in the air. Seunghood rushed to translate the peacock’s blatant dismissal of the matter, and escorted Jaebum out of the premises.

——-

“Hyung!”

A slender frame jumped earnestly by the street corner. This early in the afternoon, the street was bustling with activity. Women squatted by the pavement to sell fresh produce, restaurants swinging their doors open to welcome the lunch crowd and shop-keepers peeping into the streets to catch hold of strangers.

Jaebum’s face visibly lightened at the sight of the younger boy. Yugyeom was one of the few people in his neighbourhood who could keep him sane. He reminded Jaebum of simpler times, of racing across the grey tarmac on summer evenings. As he inched closer to the entrance of the grey building, Yugyeom bounded towards him.

“Is it done, hyung? Did you get it? Will we able to settle the amount today?” Yugeyom’s song-bird lilt of a voice crashed into Jaebum like spring wind. He huffed out a laugh at the visible urgency. “Yes. Youngjae will be fine from now on.”

Slipping his hands into his jacket to pat the bundle of money one more time, the boys entered the office of a loan shark.

Although it was a naïve statement, Jaebum hoped that his apology would have smoothed over his indiscretion. Enough to help him protect that truth; to protect Youngjae and Yugyeom from further damage.

[tcm--holland]

sellout // peter parker

summary: you’re a journalist with a passion for superheroes. what sets you apart from the other nosy writers in nyc is that one of them has been under your nose the entire time, and you didn’t even notice. but when given an opportunity to rise to the top in the world of turbulent journalism, will you let it go or become a sellout?

word count: about 5.3k

a/n: been a while, but here i am if anyone still wants me. thank you for (almost) 1k, i seriously thought i’d never get this far when i started this acc last year. as always, babes, enjoy <333

masterlist

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The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as people know him, is our latest rising superhero. But as we all know, fame comes hand in hand with controversy. A lot of people question his motivation, competence, abilities...even his morals. “Is he even a superhero?” Many ask after his recent oil spill incident. In short, yes.

You finish typing your sentence, shut your laptop, and hurriedly slide it into your backpack. You peek through the blinds in your dirty window, looking out into the already bustling city. The streets are flooded and lines for coffee shops are starting to go out the door. Amongst the crowd, you spot a familiar brunet boy that was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.

Grabbing two apples and a water bottle, you dash out the door and down the stairwell, trying not to drop anything. As soon as you’re outside, a scent native only to New York hits your nose: freshly baked bagels, dark roasted coffee, and a hint of stale urine. It kind of makes you wish that you had the time to sit down and have some real breakfast, but who are you kidding? You’re a student, a busy one at that. There’s no such thing as free time.

You weave through the bunches of businesspeople, students, and other people with places to be to get to the boy. “Peter!” You call to get his attention, barely audible over the noise of the street.  He turns away from you first, looking in the opposite direction and then slowly making a 360 degree turn until he spots you. You shake your head in disbelief and toss him an apple. He catches it without hesitation. His reflexes never fail to amaze you, but this doesn’t distract you from being annoyed at him.  “About time you showed up.”

“Aw, sorry, Y/N.” It’s only now that you’ve noticed him trying to hide something in the water bottle pouch of his backpack. He stands awkwardly, half turned away like he’s cheating out on a stage, but then he reaches back to grab whatever he’s been hiding. He pulls out a cup of coffee, and when you peep inside you see a thick layer of foam on top. Just the way you like it. “I thought I’d grab you some coffee. Uh, I wasn’t sure if it was two or three sugars, so I put in two and I brought an extra packet...” The joyous yet hesitant smile on his face as he hands it to you is contagious, and suddenly you’ve cracked a grin too. You can never find it in you to stay angry with Peter.

He fishes into his pocket, pulling out a set of tangled earphones with the sugar packet inside the tangle. You shake your head. “Two’s great.”

“You’re the best, you know that? Thank you.” You take a sip and wince as you nearly burn your tongue off. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him looking at you. He glances away as soon as you notice. “But now we’re definitely going to be late. Let’s go.” You walk side by side, him munching on the crisp apple and you carefully sipping the java. Within a minute, he’s finished with his apple. He opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t need to. You already know. You hand him your apple without a word. As per usual, he vehemently refuses to take it until you’ve said that you don’t want it a million times.

“Why didn’t you get yourself some coffee? You look like you need it more than I do,” you comment. His skin is pale as a vampire’s, like he hasn’t seen proper sunlight in days. And he’s still wearing yesterday’s Star Wars t-shirt, which he was also wearing the day before yesterday.

“Nah. Coffee just makes me jumpy. And I’m hyper enough without it, don’tcha think?” He cracks a smile.

“I guess you are.” You smile back, remembering something that you wanted to tell him. “Hey, remember how I applied for that job at The Daily Globe, and I said I totally wasn’t gonna get it?” The look on your face gives it away.

“You got it?” Peter throws an arm around you, squeezing your shoulder. “I’m so proud of you! What are you gonna write about?”

You grin up at him before taking another sip of the coffee. His constant enthusiasm for your writing will never stop motivating you. “They want me to cover Spider-Man. Crazy cool, right?”

He blinks, and for a brief moment his eyes are wide with panic. “Y-You’re writing about...Spider-Man? That’s, uh...That’s really cool! You’re gonna do great.”

“You think so? I started writing my first article this morning. I was thinking about finding out who that mystery man is. I could start an investigative series of -”

Peter cuts you off before you can say more, taking his arm off of your shoulder. “No, don’t do that!” You stop and look at him, brow furrowed in confusion, as he fumbles for words.  “U-Uh, I mean, maybe you shouldn’t reveal his identity to the world. You know, maybe he wants his private life to stay, er, private.”

“Yeah?” You say, unimpressed. “I don’t remember you caring this much about Daredevil’s private life when we were digging into him.”

“Okay but - that was before I knew him.” He paused, realizing he’d just let a secret slip. “I mean, obviously I don’t know know him. You get what I’m saying.”

You look at him and sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It might be a bad idea to build up that kind of suspense and not be able to release an actual reveal if Spider-Man turns out to be someone like Daredevil. You know, I’m still pissed that I couldn’t tell everyone who Daredevil is after all that research.”

He cracks a smile. “What, you mean being sued by a lawyer isn’t on the bucket list?”

You smile, forgetting all about wanting to find out who Spider-Man is as you let your imagination run free. “During the day, he’d sue me. But at night, he’d find and murder me. And then, he’d stare - I mean, he can’t see, but you get the point - he’d stare at my dead body and be like, ‘Bullseye’ before leaping away to beat up some criminals.” You do your best impression of Murdock’s cool, dark demeanor. Peter starts cracking up, shaking his head.

“No no no - it’s like, ‘Bullseye’.” He does his own impression, which sounds so smooth and serious that you have to do a double take to make sure you’re looking at Peter Parker and not Matt Murdock himself. He grins at your reaction, stopping to take a bow with a flourish of his hand.

You shake your head at his over-exaggeration. You lean in close to whisper into his ear, trying not to giggle. “Hey, Pete, you can tell me if you’re secretly friends with the guy.” A blush starts creeping up his neck. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re whispering in his ear or if it’s something else.

“Uh, totally. Nothing weird about a teenager and a thirty year old lawyer dude hanging out, right?”

You scrunch up your face and shove him playfully. “Ew, well, when you put it like that…” The tall brick school building comes into view, right beside the delicately maintained football field. You slide your phone out of your pocket to glance at the time. “We’re, like, ten minutes late,” you say, starting to walk a little faster.

As two of you cross onto the campus, he gives you a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he apologizes again.

“Hey, it’s nothing. The coffee was worth it,” you wink, and his lips curve upwards. You finish up what’s left in your cup and try to make it into the nearest trash can. Unsurprisingly, it lands several feet away. Still, you exclaim, “Kobe!”

“Join the basketball team already!” He teases as you make the walk of shame to throw your cup away properly.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, but the body betrays the mind and a grin slips through.

It’s finally time to part ways, which is your least favorite part of each and every morning. You lean in to give him a hug. Even though it’s clearly been a while since he’s washed up, he’s still got a unique musk that you haven’t gotten around to figuring out yet. He’s so warm and easy to hold onto. Do you have to let go?

You linger a few more moments in his strong, defined arms as he rubs little circles on your back. You’re sure he’s doing it absentmindedly, yet it’s your favorite part of hugging him. With his Stark internship, your writing, and school, moments like this have recently been defining your friendship with him.

He sighs, resting his head on your shoulder. “I’m so tired, Y/N.” Every time he breathes, it tickles your neck a little.

“What’s keeping you up?” You ask quietly, brushing the hair off of his forehead. He sighs again, and this time you really feel it tickle your neck. You want to squirm and laugh a little, but you keep it in so he can tell you what’s on his mind.

“Hm? Oh, it’s just, uh...school.” Upon hearing this, you immediately pick up on the fact that he’s stressed about something he doesn’t want to tell you. If either of you had the time, you’d unpack it all and make him feel better. “Speaking of school, we should probably...do that.” He lifts his head off of your shoulder. His hair’s all over the place now, but he doesn’t seem to care. Peter gives you a soft smile.

You pull away from the hug. You’ve seen him smile a million times, but something about this one makes you feel different. You’ve never noticed how his dark, coffee colored eyes crinkle so genuinely when he smiles, or how brightly they shine when they look at you. He’s staring at you back, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Why do you suddenly feel like kissing him? Peter, the boy who has read everything you’ve ever written and still begs for more. The boy you bumped into when you’d just moved to the city and you didn’t know anyone else. The one who walked to school with you every single day so you wouldn’t have to face a new school alone, and never fell out of the habit. The same one you cried about when he confided in you about his crush on Liz Toomes.

You swallow. Why is your mind playing cruel tricks on you when you know the truth? You force yourself to snap out of it, stepping away from Peter. “I-I’ll see you later, Peter,” you say quickly, all traces of a smile gone as you turn around to leave.

“Uh, cool. See you, Y/N!” you hear him reply. You walk faster, heading into class and taking a seat. Your classmates stare at you judgmentally, silently wondering why you’re so late. You keep your head down.

“Thanks for the hello,” your friend and designated partner in class, Mia, mutters as you reach into your backpack to grab your notebook. She’s been around almost as long as Peter.

“Sorry,” you mumble back, not offering an explanation. You keep your eyes glued to your notebook so she can’t see the expression on your face. She has a weird way of figuring out everything on your mind, whether you want her to know or not.

“Something happen?”

You glance up at her. She’s forgotten about writing in her notebook and has started twirling one of her cornrow braids around her finger. She watches you the whole time. Finally, she says, “‘Cause, like, I’m not saying that you’re late because you were busy being all over each other in the hallways, but if you were…”

Your eyes widen, and you glance over both shoulders to make sure no one’s listening. “Wh - no! It’s not like that, I already told you. I’m late because I got coffee, okay?”

Mia raises a carefully plucked eyebrow. “Y/N, can you answer me honestly for once when I ask if you like that boy or not?”

You sigh. “Sure, I like him, but -”

“Then what are you waiting for, girl? Go get him!”

“No!” This draws the attention of the teacher, who glances over. You pretend to work until he looks away, and then you turn back towards her. “No, Mia. He likes Liz.”

“He likes -” She starts, but she quickly cuts herself off and stops playing with her hair. “Oh.” You half hope that she’ll say something reassuring, even if it’s not true. But Mia’s no liar - she’ll give it to you straight. You look away, feeling worse. You focus on the clock at the front of the classroom instead, counting down the minutes until class ends.

Eventually, class ends, but your inner anguish doesn’t. Hours turn into days and nights, which turn into weeks. You do your best to keep up with Peter, but the universe works against you. You call him at the only time you can - right after school - but he never picks up. And every time he calls you back, it’s when you’re in the middle of writing something important. Eventually, walking to school together becomes less of a peaceful sanctuary and more of a necessary chore. Most of the time is spent walking side by side on your phones.

You don’t how you got to a point where you hardly say hello to each other anymore, but it happened so quickly that it hasn’t set in for either of you yet. Part of you thinks that maybe that’s just how it’s supposed to be, that you’re meant to be a forgotten relic from Peter Parker’s past. What a tragic, cruel fate. Thinking about Peter makes your stomach churn with discomfort, so you focus all of your energy on writing.

Ladies and gentlemen, The Daily Bugle has officially become the Fox News of writing about Spider-Man. In their latest article, they chose to slander me by calling me a “nasty teen who doesn’t know the difference between journalism and writing for a tabloid”. That’s how you know you’ve won a battle, folks.

Reports say that Spider-Man’s slipping a little. He let a few purse snatchers get away this week. Some worry, or rejoice, depending on who you are, that this is the end of the line for him. Don’t give up hope so quickly, I say to that. It’s all in the making of someone great. But I can’t help but wonder...what’s on Spider-Man’s mind? More importantly, can he find it in himself to deal with it and move on?

You start doing well. Suddenly, everyone’s talking to you about your latest articles. Teachers, friends, and your family alike begin to regard you as a local hero, in your own unique way. Despite this positive attention, something doesn’t feel right.

One day, something you’d been fearing for a while finally comes true. Peter stops showing up outside of your apartment. You stand outside that grey morning, staring into the sea of faces and hoping that one of them might be his. You wait ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes, looking a bit like a lost puppy to people that happen to glance at you.

It’s only after almost forty-five minutes of internal panic and worry that you think to text him. Maybe he’s sick and he forgot to tell you. It’s probably nothing and you’re overreacting for no reason.

(8:32 AM) You: school started 20 min ago...where are you?

You stare at your phone, spacing out for a few minutes until you hear a ping.

(8:36 AM) Peter: oh crap!!! y/n i’m so sorry, i totally forgot to tell you

(8:36 AM) You: ???

(8:37 AM) Peter: i’m in d.c. rn for a decathlon tournament! kinda last min but yeah! sorry for not letting you know, you gonna be late?

(8:37 AM) You: thought you stopped doing decathlon

(8:38 AM) Peter: i got back into it :)

(8:41 AM) You: oh

He sends you something after that, but you don’t bother reading it. The entire walk to school, you feel like you’re in a daze. You don’t understand why you can’t just let it go and move on with your life. Your writing is taking off. Some D-list magazine once titled you ‘Teen Journalist of the Year’, after all. You’ve dreamed of going big your whole life, but now that it’s starting to happen, you’re more unhappy than you’ve ever been.

As you walk, you hear your phone begin to play your marimba ringtone. Who’s calling you at this time? You ignore the pile up of texts from Peter to answer the call. The caller ID says...your boss? You put the phone to your ear. “Mr. Bushkin, I -” You start.

“Y/N, listen. You’re exactly what this paper has needed for a long time - a young, fresh face who hands it to the audience unfiltered.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Bushkin -”

“K.J. Clayton herself praises you!” K.J. Clayton, owner of The Daily Globe? You want to express your excitement, but as usual, there’s no time to react with the overbearing Barney Bushkin. “And hey, you’re gettin’ fan mail, kid! Pick it up from the office when you can, okay? But I called to ask you about something. You’re doing great, but you know what turns kids like you into celebrities? The big break.”

“And I think your big break could be in finding out who that Spider-Man is. So think about it if you wanna, and get back to me on…” Bushkin’s words fade away for a moment.

“Maybe he wants his private life to stay private.” That’s what Peter said as he convinced you to let Spider-Man live in peace. But that doesn’t matter anymore. Maybe it’s time you do something for yourself. Bushkin’s right - finding out who the masked spider is would launch your career. You’re sure you can do it - without Peter’s help.

“Mr. Bushkin.” For once, you interrupt your boss. He doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“Hm?”

“I’ll do it, sir. I’ll find out who Spider-Man is.”

---

By the time you get to school, there are hardly more than ten minutes left in first period. Mia tries to talk to you when you sit down, but you can’t bring yourself to tune into the world right now. You’re too excited about your own future.

You go through your classes, juggling between feeling annoyed about your Peter ordeal and feeling excited about your new assignment. If anything, the jumble of emotions make you even more determined.

At lunch, you open your phone up to see that it’s blowing up with messages from friends, schoolmates...even strangers. It doesn’t take much more than a quick Google search to find out that something’s going on in D.C. Immediately, you start watching the first live broadcast that comes up. It’s Spider-Man on top of… “The Washington monument?” You whisper.

You sit there in shock, watching him save a bunch of kids from inside the monument, no thanks to the police. You squint to try and get a better look at the kids. They’re not kids, they’re teenagers! And their jackets look awfully familiar…

“The decathlon team.” You have to pinch yourself to make sure that you’re not living a reality. Your heart’s beating so fast and you can barely breathe, like you just ran a few miles at top speed. You glance at Mia, who’s been watching you across your table of friends with a confused stare as you talk to yourself. “I - I have to go,” you announce, standing up suddenly and tossing everything into your backpack before beginning to walk quickly. Mia is right by your side as you approach the office.

“Y/N, what are you -”

“Spider-Man just saved our decathlon team from a falling elevator at the Washington Monument in D.C.” You do your best to explain as quickly as possible. “I need to write about this.” You don’t stop to think about why you want to write all of a sudden. You don’t wonder if you’re in a rush because you simply want to get the latest news down or if you want to drown your complicated emotions away with words.

She blocks your path. “I need you to slow down and breathe before you give yourself a panic attack. What you need to do is stay here, at school. You can write the article when you go home.”

“No, don’t you get it, girl? I need to do this. The sooner I do that, the sooner I can start piecing together who Spider-Man is.”

“Have you gone crazy?” Mia yells, and suddenly you shut up and stare at her, throat tight. You’ve never seen her like this. “You’re so focused on getting your stupid ass story that you haven’t even stopped to think about if everyone on the decathlon team - the people you go to school with - got hurt or anything. Since when did you start giving up your integrity for journalism?”

“Since I learned how to do it right,” you shoot back angrily. You’ve left your best friend at a loss for words, but there’s no turning back now. You consider marching into the office and telling them you need to go, but they’d probably force you to go back to class. You hear the bell signalling the end of lunch. It’s now or never. You can’t bring yourself to look back at Mia as you make your escape off of campus to go home.

In just a matter of months, Spider-Man has gone from a local name to being known across the country. As many of you may already know by now, Spider-Man was out in D.C. this weekend doing God’s work at the Washington Monument. Of course, the police don’t appreciate his stunts, but the police also had no chance at saving those teenagers before Spider-Man did. The kids themselves are New York natives - in fact, they attend the Midtown School of Science and Technology as my fellow schoolmates. Spidey’s back on track!

Over the next few weeks, writing consumes most of your time. There’s not much else to do when you don’t have any friends. So you sit at home detailing every step that Spider-Man takes, trying to figure out who he could possibly be. It could be anyone - millions of people live in the city, after all. While you try to find out his identity, you have to keep up with current events too. So you push yourself harder to stay up to date on what Spider-Man does.

You skip parties that you occasionally get invited to. You even skip homecoming this year. Who would you go with, anyway?

A rare sight: Spider-Man back in his Underoos to fight the Vulture. You usually see superheroes dress up for the big boss battle...but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he keeps us guessing. He locked up the Vulture - hopefully for good. But our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man chose not to take his life. He’s no Daredevil, though I hear speculation that they may know each other. All things considered, we know Spidey’s in league with billionaire Tony Stark. Does this mean we’ll see Spider-Man among the Avengers soon?

This is so much harder alone. That’s the only thought running through your head as you rub your temples. You’re not even close to finding out Spider-Man’s real identity, never mind writing an article on it. Suddenly, you hear your ringtone go off. At this point, no one else really calls you, so you know who’s at the other end of the line.

“Hi, Mr. Bushkin,” you greet quietly.

“Y/N! How’s that Spider-Man reveal goin’?” Oh, you’ve been dreading this call.

You can’t bring yourself to lie, though. “It’s not goin’.”

“Hey, don’t become discouraged. I can always hand off the job to -”

“No, sir,” you cut in, nervous. “I can, uh, I can do it, I swear. I just need a little more time.”

“There’s that fire! Now go find out who he is. I believe in you.” The phone clicks as he hangs up. Something about his words feel empty to you. Does Mr. Bushkin really believe in you? His I believe you doesn’t sound like Peter’s I believe in you.

Peter. Mia. You miss them both more than you care to admit. A shaky sigh escapes your lips when you think about the longing that’s been pulling at your heart strings for the last few weeks. You’re so burned out. You’ve given up every shred of your sanity for this.

You close your laptop and pull out your phone, opening up your conversation with Peter to read the messages you haven’t bothered to check since he went to D.C.

(8:42 AM) Peter: hey are you doing okay?

(8:45 AM) Peter: i’m just asking cuz your texts are like short and stuff

(8:45 AM) Peter: i mean that’s not a bad thing like i’m not saying you have to write like paragraphs or anything

(8:46 AM) Peter: idek what i’m saying anymore help lol

(10:24 AM) Peter: y/n? are you mad at me?

(11:11 AM) Peter: ok i’ll leave you alone if you don’t feel like talking rn

He didn’t say anything for a few days. And then:

(7:14 PM) Peter: may wanted to invite you to dinner tonight if you can make it? she knows how much you like her stir fry :)

(9:48 PM) Peter: we’ll just save you some in case you wanna pick it up in the morning then

A few more days.

(3:39 PM) Peter: ned, mj and i are binging star wars! you should come and meet mj btw, you’d love her

A few more.

(4:23 PM) Peter: coffee? ik you’re super busy and i’m about to get super busy too but imy! let’s catch up <3

Before you can stop yourself, you’re choked up. You can’t help it. As hot tears spill out of your eyes and onto your cheeks, you wonder how you became such a jerk. When did writing stop making you happy and start making you turn on everyone good in your life?  A sob escapes your lips. Angry with yourself, you pick up the photographs and newspaper clippings strewn across your bed and throw them at the wall as hard as you can. You hate it all.

You hate yourself for carrying so much anxiety with you, for being so unappreciative of everyone in your life, for being so egotistical and cocky as soon as you found a throne to climb onto. You hate yourself for ignoring Peter without a decent reason and for not trusting Mia enough to know what’s best for you sometimes. You hate yourself for being so flawed, but you can’t figure out how to fix it.

You stand up, brushing your tears away. Spider-Man can wait. Your friends need you. Or, at the very least, you need your friends.

You slide on a pair of sneakers and glance in the mirror. You look the same way Peter did weeks ago - sunlight deficient and exhausted. You make your way down the street two blocks, regretting forgetting a jacket. The bitter cold wind leaves goosebumps on your arms and chills you to the bone. Finally, you make it upstairs, knocking on the all-too-familiar door to the apartment.

May Parker opens the door, clearly surprised when she sees you. “Y/N?” Your heart breaks all over again as soon as she says your name, and suddenly you feel like crying again. “Hey, sweetheart,” she says gently, pulling you into a hug. You pull yourself together, blinking away your tears as you hug her back. When you finally let go, she urges you to come in and have a seat at their dinner table.

“You want anything? A drink or something to eat, maybe?” She offers kindly. When you shake your head no, May takes a seat in front of you. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’ve been terrible to Peter,” you blurt out. “I just - I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but ever since I got my job, I’ve been - I have…” You take a moment to figure out what you want to say, May’s patient gaze never straying from you. “I just wanted to catch up.” You try to smile, but it’s more of a grimace.

She nods in understanding, and she thinks for a few seconds. “You know what? Let’s talk about it. Peter’s in the shower right now, so you can wait in his room if you want. And then you can come out together and we can all talk. That sound okay to you?” You nod, trying to take a few deep breaths and sort yourself out. Finally, you stand up to head into Peter’s room. “And Y/N,” she says. You glance up at her. “Peter’s been dealing with some stuff too. He was, um...sneaking out.” You raise your eyebrows at this. Peter, sneaking out? She sees your reaction and nods. “I know. But he lost his Stark internship a while ago, and that’s how he dealt with it. I know how important these things are to you guys. They get so important that you do dumb things sometimes.”

You hold May’s gaze, wondering if you’ll ever be as wise as her. You smile slowly and nod. “Thanks, May. Can I, um, have another hug?”

May laughs and walks back over to you. “Of course, Y/N.” She wraps her arms around you for a second hug, doing the same back rubbing that Peter does when he hugs. When you finally let go, you feel a lot better. You give her one last smile before heading into Peter’s room.

You start thinking about Spider-Man again. All the research you’ve done on him wasn’t for nothing. You’ve narrowed it down a little. Based on how amateur he is, both in action and in conversations, you can easily rule out Spider-Man being an adult. Or at least, if he is an adult, he’s fairly new at being one.

You blink, remembering why you’re here. You take a seat on his bed and look around. He’s got photographs of you and Ned strung up on his wall. It looks like he’s in the process of stringing up pictures of someone else, too. His decathlon jacket is sprawled on the back of his chair. Next to that is his backpack, with all of his school things still inside. Ugh, your pet peeve is backpacks that are open when they don’t need to be. Very specific, you know, but it’s so annoying to you.

You stand up, going to zip up the bag when you see something in the corner of your eye under Peter’s bed. Itt’s red and blue, and at this point, you’ve seen it so many times that you recognize it instantly as Spider-Man’s Underoos. What the hell? Your heart races in anticipation. Maybe it’s just a replica, or a cosplay outfit. You drop to your knees to reach towards the suit. As soon as you touch it, you realize that this is too perfect to be cosplay. You pull it out and hold it in the light, a million things racing through your head as you stare in disbelief.

“Y-You’re writing about...Spider-Man?”

“I mean, maybe you shouldn’t reveal his identity to the world. Maybe he wants his private life to stay private.”

“Okay but - that was before I knew him.”

The door clicks open. On Peter’s end, he sees you sitting on his bed with his Spider-Man suit clutched in hand. On your end, you’re glancing back and forth between the half-naked Peter and the suit. You don’t know if you’re supposed to be shocked or panicked.

Almost at the same time, you and Peter say, “What the fu -”

[aggresivelyfriendly]

~Who Names The Colors~

Chapter 9-This Is Not A Pipe (The Treachery of Images)

Hello my lovelies!!! Is everybody sending up good vibes that we get another amazing outfit and bounce in Hotlanta? I know I am! Give it to us Good Harry, we want it all night!

This fic has an age gap, she’s over 40, he’s just over 20. If you do not like this, I’m not offended. If you are intrigued, and like art, or UST, or juicy plotlines of deep POV-read on!

I could not do this, especially not as well(lmao), without my babes @nocontrolforlouis, @bleedinglove4h, and @dirtystyles-who is wonder at the banners that so beautifully adorn each chapter!

“Where are you?” Jo texted Ethan again.

“Mom, it’s handled, get ready.” She got an unreasonable 15 minutes later while she paced her bathroom and checked on what Zoe might be destroying several times. She had convinced herself that this was a very important situation and Ethan had said he was coming home. Audrey was busy and it’s not one of Colin’s appointed visitation times, so she knew not to ask him. Plus, after that comment about her ass in her yoga pants over two weeks ago, Jo had no interest in inviting him into her life, let alone her dating life.

Jo needed someone she could trust because Zoe was a threenager if she ever saw one.

 That little girl was full of opinions she couldn’t quite express and that huge influx of hormones she was getting about now, that Jo had heard was unmet in females again until puberty, made her full of feelings. Zoe insisted on expressing all of them loudly. She was a handful right now, even for Jo. Ethan may have had days like this, but the blur of parenting in her chaotic early 20’s had dulled the memory. Or, thankfully, her challenging child came when she was more prepared for her. In any case, her pint sized wonder had an attitude to outmatch a cast member on Made in Chelsea and was just as unreasonable.

Zoe also needed constant supervision at the moment. Jo was currently in the practice of knowing where she was in their house at all times and what weapons of minor destruction were at her disposal too. This had been brewing for some time, but it had become necessary for a normal sense of peace of mind starting about a week ago.

Jo had been working on grading her 2nd year technique submissions while watching her Sunday roast and decidedly not thinking about the shape of Harry’s lips or ass or how he had surpassed her in his technique and innovation as an artist and how she admired him, when she realized that she didn’t really know where her three year old was in the house at the moment. More worryingly, she had not heard a high pitched peep, let alone a squeal in too long. Jo dropped the iPad she had collected her submission’s on, including the piece Harry had sent after their frustrating meeting the other day, the one she mentally referred to as “Jo in the moon” and made her way to the play area. It was empty of life though the trail of destruction was clear. Jo cleared up five toys, as she tried to do in every room Zoe had wrecked, before checking her bedroom, again bereft, and the bathroom, also clear. 

She heard a chatter in her own bathroom then and wanted to freeze. The other day she had found that Zoe had billy goat-ed her way on to the counter from the toilet back and had crossed to the medicine cabinet where Jo safely kept her razor, or so She thought. This time the razor was not the problem. Instead, Zoe had found her way to the medicine cabinet and other trouble. In an effort to make herself feel better about being a woman in charge of her own destiny who made choices that were best for her, even if not what she wanted, Jo had recently sprung for the Ruby Woo Lippy instead of the Rimmel #1 she usually purchased.

So, of course, Zoe had found it and painted herself with it. The red stick had gone a long way, Jo imagined she could have had it for years, because there was enough of it to cover Zoe from her knees to her collarbones and beyond, including cold straight horizontal lines for eyebrows like she was Anger in Inside Out. Her daughter had taken one look from her place on the ruined bath mat, seen Jo’s incensed face, a less animated personification of anger and tried to run to hug off her mum’s rage. Jo, like any good mother in her best work clothes, stiff armed her like an American football player, and stripped herself before depositing a crying and sorry Zoe into a bath.

Jo had immediately called her friend Cidra with a glass of wine in hand. She could see her daughter was safe, but was far enough away to just watch. Jo needed to find the funny in the situation, as soon as possible, and Cidra would help. Because it was funny, Jo knew, even when it was your lipstick and your bath mat and your child. Cidra had laughed her ass off for minutes and convinced Jo to take pictures of the remnants of the waxy red dye all over Zoe. She had also declared that Jo desperately needed a night out, and “some dick to wind you down, god you are wound up tighter than my mother in law’s arsehole.” This and the 10 minutes since disaster had Jo laughing to.

It remained funny when Zoe’s chest and especially her eyebrows where red for better than a week.

For all these reasons, Jo wanted a trustworthy babysitter to watch her baby while she went on this blind date.

Jo had a date. She’d finally let Cidra do her work.

Her first since Colin had charmed his way into her diary, then heart, then bed. She was fairly certain that order was important. Had the sex come before the feelings, she may have taken a pass. And then it would only be awkward when they ran into each other at university functions, not Tuesdays and every other weekend.

So, this date. Jo was trying her best to be excited. But, her motives were totally suspect. She was going out with William, Or Wills, as Cidra called him, because she needed to meet a man more of an adequate age. Somebody that checked the same bracket as her on those bloody questionnaire’s one filled out too often. Not because she wanted to necessarily. The dinner would be fine, especially if he paid. But she might be at the age where the free-ish meal was not worth it.

To make any of this wishful dating work, she needed a trustworthy babysitter though. And luckily, her boy was supposed to be home. But he was very late. Jo was just about to go see what Zoe was into, when her toddler ran into her bathroom with her tiny collectibles in her right fist, and the bunny Harry had sent to her for Easter with Ethan in the other. Zoe’s name was embroidered on the ear. Jo smiled and then bit her lip. She would not be endeared by that man. That boy, she mentally reminded herself, because he was sooo young. And even though he acted like more of a man than the supposed one she had exchanged wedding vows with, especially the last time she had seen him, he was still too young. Point blank and period.

Well, not the last time she had seen him. Several days ago, a few hours before she had finally texted Cidra to take her up on the great guy she had for her, Jo had seen Harry on campus. And he had been a sight. His hair was a little ramshackle, could use a wash, as it was speckled with paint and not a little greasy, still she wanted to touch it. He was also wearing the craziest flower button down, it was a Hawaiian shirt, but more vivid, and his ripped knee skinny jeans and Chelsea boots. His outfit was eye catching, but the thing that Jo could not look away from was his company at the school coffee shop. He sat with a sweet faced blonde of his own age who looked quite smitten. Jo felt like an interloper when she found a small alcove to stand in to watch them. Harry had gotten up to grab their coffees and she got tender and catty when she saw the girl bite her lip and watch him walk to the counter. Then giggle.

Was he on a date? It looked like a date. The part that bothered her the most was that she was decidedly bothered. Harry should be on a date with a girl from school, he should be smiling like he was when he gently brought her coffee back to her, and of course the blonde was smiling and a little shy. Because this was still a new arena to both of them, unlike Jo, who had definitely dated, was now divorced and jaded.

Not so jaded that she stopped herself from calling Cidra. Or from wearing the daring trouser boot combination. The slim fitting trousers were new, but the over the knee boots were an impulse buy on the internet when she was sad about turning 41. It had been over a year and they had never made it onto her body. The blousy white wrap top felt silky against her skin and the bralette was her own sexy secret. Because she needed a confidence boost going into this thing. And, well, she frankly usually forewent underpants, so lingerie had to be special to be worn much at all. Though she did see the necessity of a bra. Especially when Ethan hit 12 and told her she was to wear one at all times. She did have a boy, it made sense. She made a face at that memory while she kept getting ready, the sound of her curling iron ticking on and on until it hit temperature ringing in her ear. Her hair felt smooth and wrapped around the barrel lightly while she prepared herself and tried to look at her progress across her head, not her bitten lip or furrowed brow. Jo put her hair up in to a full ponytail with swooping side pieces, smoked out her eye a little and threw on a nude Lippy.

It would do, she decided while looking in the mirror. Now she just needed her son, who had once again answered a text with his own version of chill mom. Zoe was playing at her feet now too, she’d snuck in silently and Jo almost stepped on her little hand. That child was way to stealthy. Either Jo was in her head worse that she thought, or she was going to be in even bigger trouble when that kid decided to be sneaky on purpose.

She made her way to the fridge to have some water to calm herself down and thought she heard a knock at the back door. That was curious, the only person who knocked was, “Harry?” She gaped at him when she got the door. He looked good, if out of place, with his hair down around his shoulders and an old Rolling Stones tee and his signature jeans. Dammit, this was gonna be awkward. Ethan had better be right behind him. “What’re you doing here?”

Harry looked her up and down and narrowed his brow. “Ethan got a date he’s been hoping for, said you needed a hand. And I said I’d lend it. I figured that Colin skipped out on you. Then thought maybe we could paint a little.” He looked her over and her skin heralded his eyes progress by getting all excited, the hair follicles standing at attention wherever his eyes landed. “But, you don’t look like you have university business.”

Jo felt miffed for a minute, there was nothing wrong with her outfit. She supposed it was inappropriate for school stuff, but it fit well and she liked it.

Harry smirked then, “oh! I know where you are off to-Girl’s night??” His smiled hopefully and she didn’t return it. His face fell a little then and his wide eyes looked so hopeful that she almost lied to him. Almost.

“Um, that sounds like more fun, but, no, I, well” spit it out she thought, he’s not your boyfriend, you only kissed the once, and he went out too. “I was set up by a friend.”

His face truly fell then, and his lips thinned into a line, like the one they had crossed. “Like a date.” It wasn’t a question.

Jo guiltily nodded and was ready to shove her fist in her mouth when Harry looked at his booted feet then gave her a false grin and changed the subject, “where’s my girl then?”

“Um, she was in my bathroom. Let me get her. I didn’t really write out any instructions, cuz I thought Ethan was watching her.” And he should know how to take care of her, he was a grown man.

“That’s alright, Miss Jo. I got her.” His back was to her, and he sounded tired, then he seemed to realize he shouldn’t be going into her bedroom and the doorbell rang. Did jo send Harry to the door, where her date he seemed to be bothered by was-or to her messy bathroom where she was sure there was a bra or two on the floor?

“Would you mind answering the door, and I’ll go make sure Zoe hasn’t painted herself with lipstick, again.” Oh that drew the dimples. “I’ll show you the picture I took so it could be funny, as opposed to rage inducing.”

“Please.” He nodded politely and Jo hated it.

Zoe was playing in her make up, but luckily it was the brushes, she looked a little messy, but cute.

“Guess who’s here bub?” She asked with extra enthusiasm.

“Tan!” Dammit-Jo had told her to soon. She’d have to ask Harry if her son was coming home after his hot date. She wanted to be pissed about him sending Harry and making it awkward, but she couldn’t. How was Ethan to know that she and his best mate were doing a tango around each other?

“Not Tan, bub! Hopefully soon, but today you get to hang out with Harry.” Jo sat her down before she fell from wiggling around so much.

And Zoe took a couple seconds to grieve the absence of her brother before launching herself like a disturbed bottle of coke at “Arry!”

Who stood with his arms crossed and his brow narrowed. The perfect shape and color of his lips was hidden by the straight line he had thinned them into. Beside him was who she had to assume was William.

He was about the same size as Harry, perhaps a little more robust in frame. He had a clean, classic haircut with a touch of curl in the dark blonde locks. His eyes were a milk chocolate brown and best of all, he had a full groomed beard. Had you asked Jo to describe her type of guy, and Cidra had, he would be it. No wonder Cidra was so keen to get them out together.

“Arry!” Zoe was happily at his feet and he thawed a touch to reach down and pick her up.

“Hey bug! What do you want to play tonight?” He tried for the level of enthusiasm he usually gave her. Jo could hear the false note in it, like she was a producer with headphones on and everybody else could be distracted by the backing vocals.

“Puppets!” Zoe raised her hands up and Harry looked bewildered for just second. He looked at Jo and she smiled at him. She wouldn’t have described Harry when asked her type then, but now she might, lanky and tall with long hair and beautiful olive skin and deep dimples and green, green eyes. Maybe she couldn’t even dream him up until she saw him grown into himself.

“She saw a puppet show at the library, so I got her a few and we’ve been using her kitchen set as a stage. Stuck a blanket over it.” Harry laughed at her description and he looked so beautiful.

A throat cleared and Jo remembered why Harry was here in the first place. She turned to her date. “Sorry, I’m unforgivably rude!! Jo Smith” she extended her hand. He took it and pulled her in a bit, keeping his arm across his stomach, so she had to enter his space bubble.

“William Sullivan, people call me Will, or brave ones, Sully. I bet you are a brave one! Cidra has been talking about you for ages and she told not a lie!” And he smiled appreciatively and his accent, maybe Belfast, was lovely, and he was handsome and just a bit younger than her, maybe 3 years, and perfect.

But Jo found she was fighting with herself to keep her eyes on her date and not watch Harry to see how he was feeling.

This was a good idea. She needed to go on a date with somebody her own age, in the same life stage. Not someone so young. Harry may make a great babysitter, but it would be totally unfair to thrust him into any kind of parenting role. Jo had been a parent at Harry’s age, you missed out on a lot. She would not take that from him, especially for a child not his own.

She was also miles ahead of herself. Harry was seeing a sweet faced undergrad and she was going on a lovely date with a very handsome man.

They had only kissed once.

Her eyes cut to Harry. He was looking at Zoe, but his face was a little red. He returned her gaze then and Jo wanted to be 3 inches tall. Felt it. That was the least charitable look he had ever given her.

“Are you ready, then? Need to grab a bag or anything?”

“Oh, sorry,” Jo was still looking at Harry while she said it, but she was answering both of their questions. ‘Sorry’ she mouthed again at Harry and he bit his lip and nodded.

Jo turned with an excuse me and grabbed her bag.

Dinner was lovely, it was.

William was lovely, he was.

He was educated and cerebral, but in no way pretentious. He had a working knowledge of art and even had been to a Jenny Seville exhibition Jo wanted to see herself. But the minute she thought of Seville’s art she thought of the way the flesh of Harry’s women looked, how he created some kind of meld between landscape and flesh and all of it seemed to be in motion, alive.

He made her feel alive. Her bones sing and hair scream and skin dance.

William sat across from her and he was more adequate in every department. He was of a certain age, she wouldn’t feel like she was cheating him of some experiences and forcing others upon him. There was no ethical questions surrounding him. Jo would not get fired it she was caught with William. Not unless she fucked him in front of her classes. Also, she wasn’t his advisor. There were so many inequalities between them. Harry was her protege, for fuck’s sake. That made her chuckle, but it must have been well timed, because William smiled like he was encouraged and she felt guilty but continued to let her mind wander. She may have introduced Harry to his inner artist, but he was light years ahead of her now. He could make a career of his talent. And she believed he would.

Last but not least, in fact most, was Ethan. How does one tell your barely grown son you are dating his best mate?

You don’t.

And if it was just a sexual thing, not worth it. Sex was lovely, but most certainly not worth upsetting her son over. Certainly no sex she had ever had. She looked across the table to William’s wide eyes and raised brows and knew she had missed a question.

“I’m sorry, what?” She blushed.

“Would you like desert? We could share?"he raised one brow.

Her distraction was totally unacceptable and Jo should say yes and cozy up to the perfectly lovely man. "Actually, I’m really sorry to say this, but I’m feeling unwell. I’m gonna head out, call an Uber.”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. I’ll get the check and get you home.” He looked around for their server and Jo almost hurrahed aloud when the lady was nearby. Her heels were burning to go. She was already formulating her excuse for why this wasn’t going to work.

The drive home was silent, William put on a playlist from his phone and she really liked every song that came on. Even found herself singing along to the “The Freshman”. William joined her and she smiled, maybe they could try this again and she would feel something for him and her focus could come back to reality. Maybe?

Harry probably didn’t even know that song.

Once outside her home, she didn’t have the chance to get her door open, because Will moved like lightening to get it for her and he took her hand to walk her to the front of her house.

“Jo, can I call you in a couple months?” He asked when they got the the covered step at her door.

“Huh?” Jo thought for sure she would be turning down another date or basically shaking hands and parting ways. She was amazed that wasn’t the conclusion after her inattention.

“Cidra told me about your divorce. And, well I’ve been there myself, so I guessed we would see how it went before we tried to do it again. I’d like to take you out again. But only when you are ready.” His eyebrow on the left was raised.

He was lovely, dammit. Jo bit her lip and nodded. “Please call me in a few months, hopefully I’ll be in a place where I can appreciate how wonderful you are.”

Will smiled at that and she felt better about basically ignoring him their whole date. Jo let him assume it was her ex husband and not her babysitter causing the wandering mind.

He leaned in then and kissed her cheek and she returned the gesture and turned to open her door. She watched him get in his car and then closed the door, put on the latch and leaned against it with her eyes closed to gather herself before going to relieve Harry. She wasn’t sure what she would say to him. Or how awkward their exchange would be.

When her eyes opened and he was right in front of her with a hurricane face she clutched her chest. “Jesus, Harry, you scared me!” She whispered, because Zoe had better be asleep.

“Sorry,” he said with the cruelest smile Jo had ever seen on his face. It twisted and turned across his pretty mouth like churning clouds. “Did I interrupt your reverie?”

“My what?” Jo was lost.

“Looked like you were thinking on the kiss your suitable man gave you.” Suitable- that was a spot on word. Harry’s voice was a rumble of thunder when you didn’t see the lightening strike.

Jo pulled a face at him. “Not that it’s your business,” she moved around him to hang her purse and bag on the coat rack. And turned to stare at him with some weather of her own. Hands on hips, “but I didn’t kiss him.”

Harry scoffed then and walked back into the studio, throwing a “whatever Jo, I saw you.”

Jo went after him. No way was he getting away with being a little immature shit about this. “Listen, Harry, I get that this was awkward, I had no intention of you witnessing my date like I had to witness yours—”

“What date? I haven’t been on a date?”

“The one in the coffeehouse with the sweet blonde thing who looked right chuffed to be getting coffee with you.” He was facing her and she realized his shirt was half buttoned and he was holding his coat ready to go, and that he had been painting. His shirt had speckles of gold.

“Liz?” Harry looked puzzled.

“I don’t need to know her name!” Jo stamped her foot.

“Well I know his! And I watched him kiss you, since you lied about it.”

“Were you watching me?” Jo drew her chin back in question.

Harry looked heavenward. “Of fucking course I was watching you. I’m always bloody watching you! For any sign you want me! But I saw how you were with him! Could he have run to your door any faster?”

“Don’t mock him for being a gentleman!” Jo was livid.

“I’ll mock him if I want! And you don’t think I’d be a gentleman to you? I have been a gentlemen to you. Trying to let you call all the shots. I’d be whatever you wanted except what you think you need!” He was almost shouting and Jo shushed him.

“And what do I think I need?” Jo whisper yelled.

“Somebody older! Which I can’t be! But, Jo, you could be out with him still and instead you are hear yelling with m—”

“Well! That’s because I fucking want you instead, isn’t it!”

At that, the lightening struck right between them and the electricity closed the circuit and Harry had her face in his hands and her mouth on his and was picking her up to lay her on the canvas on her studio floor.

[bughead-fic-request]

Okay I finally have a prompt for another straight-laced Jughead, if you're interested (I sent you that one ask about if you plan to write more). I think it would be super cute if class president, valedictorian-bound, Ivy League aspiring Jughead loses his poise and eloquence around his shy lab partner/not-so-secret crush, Betty Cooper. Except she's totally oblivious and completely enamored as well and he plucks up the courage to ask her to homecoming maybe?

Weird Science - Part 1

Summary: Popular golden boy Jughead Jones has the eyes of every girl at school on him, every girl but one, perpetual loner Betty Cooper.  

Words: 2,727

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, making out. 

A/N: This isn’t exactly like you request @gay-for-rey1999 but hopefully you are still happy with it. I edited this myself so there will be errors. This feels like hardcore role reversal and I kinda like it. This is also on AO3. I’m hoping part 2, the date, will be ready tomorrow or Friday. Hope you all like it. 

Jughead Jones was Harvard bound. He was student body class president, head of the model UN, president of the debate club, captain of the Riverdale hockey and lacrosse teams and was the most popular guy in school. Jughead was just that type of person people were drawn to. He was a genuinely nice guy, didn’t subscribe to toxic masculinity and always tried to do the right thing. He volunteered at the Riverdale animal shelter, tutored elementary school kids and helped out at a soup kitchen when he could.

To add to his intelligence, kindness and athletic prowess, Jughead was also good looking. He was 6’1, broad shoulders with an athletic build from all the sports he played. He had a dazzling smile, sexy black hair with a slight curl and piercing blue eyes.

Every girl at Riverdale High had a crush on Jughead Jones. Every girl but one.

Betty Cooper was the student body treasurer, a member of the debate club and the model UN. She was sharp as a tack and the one Jughead was always competing against for top GPA. She spoke in clipped sentences and never attempted to make small talk but she could argue like nobodies business. He never caught her staring at him or making the googly eyes like the other girls would. Betty Cooper came to school, aced ever test and essay, attended every meeting of every club she committed to and then went home.

She didn’t have friends or people she sat with at lunch. She sat alone in the far corner of the cafeteria, reading whatever book she was checking off the 100 Greatest Books list that week, occasionally people watching if the mood struck her. Her sunny blonde hair which hung around her shoulders in waves and her vibrant green eyes should have given off a welcoming feeling but her permanent scowl kept people away. If that wasn’t enough Betty only wore black. Black Doc Martins, black ripped jeans, black t-shirts and tank tops and always her black leather jacket.

Betty was smart as hell, the most beautiful girl in most rooms and intimating as fuck and from what Jughead could tell, that was just the way she liked it.

Jughead didn’t know when his crush on her began but his heart raced every time she walked into their chemistry class or when she showed up for debate club. He always asked her to speak because he loved hearing her voice but never chose her to lead the team so no one would catch on. He started thinking about her all the time, when he was in school, when he volunteered, when he went to bed and even when he would pleasure himself. He told no one. It was a secret he had been carrying around for a long time.

Jughead had only seen her speak to one person at length and that was her neighbour and his friend, Archie Andrews. They walked to and from school every day and Jughead wondered if the reason Betty showed no interest in him was because she was with Archie. Jughead was quick to dismiss this theory because Archie was with a new girl everyday of the week. Betty didn’t seem like the type of person who would put up with that.

The first true interaction Jughead ever had with Betty outside of school was when he was at Archie’s house. He was helping the redhead study for an upcoming English exam.

“I don’t understand why we need to know anything about Macbeth and his dad and why you shouldn’t say Macbeth in the theatre. It’s all stupid.” Archie complained falling back on his bed clearly giving up.

“It’s to help your analytical skills.” Jughead explained.

Archie pushed up on his elbows, shirtless and in the dark jeans he had worn that day, and looked at the dark haired boy blankly.

Jughead sighed. “The teachers need to know if you understand what you’re reading.” He explained.

Archie sighed and stood. “Whatever, I’m gonna get some sodas and Pop Tarts. You want some?” He asked.

Jughead nodded and stood too, stretching his legs and straightening out his jeans and Under Armour t-shirt. He strolled around the room looking at all the posters and photos that hung from the walls before walking into a little nook with a window. He turned to look out it realizing it faced Betty’s bedroom. He knew it was Betty’s bedroom because she stood with her back to the window as she began to undress.

Jughead’s eyes widened as he made many movements at once, not knowing exactly what to do. He started to crouch which turned into him turning his back on the window which led to him walking out of the nook. This was the right thing to do, he should give her some privacy, it would make him a creep, a peeping Tom if he continued to watch her. These thoughts didn’t stop him from walking back and taking another look.

Her top was off now and the smooth, toned plains of her back moved as she bent down to remove her pants. His cheeks flushed when he saw the underside of her breast as she picked up the garment. This was when she turned, suddenly, and Jughead was given a full view of her chest but this meant Betty was able to see him as well.

Both of their eyes went wide and Betty quickly covered herself and started saying something Jughead couldn’t make out but she was clearly yelling. In a panic, he turned and walked right into the wall behind him, hitting his head before leaving the nook. He sat back down where Archie had left him.

His knee bounced and his hands shook as embarrassment took over him. This was okay, this was fine. He would just apologize when he saw her next and everything would be fine. She would continue not to speak to him and he could feel a wave of unease every time he looked at her.

“Here you go, man.” Archie said, entering the room handing him a Pepsi and a plate with two nearly burnt chocolate Pop Tarts.

Jughead bit into the pastry and at the exact moment he heard the door slam downstairs. “Jughead Jones!” Betty yelled.

He started choking on his food and he watched the door for her impending arrival, he could hear her flip flops clomping up the stairs.

“What did you do, bro?” Archie asked with a smirk.

She burst in the room and pointed at him with wild eyes. “You!” She accused, walking towards him. “You little pervert!” She was wearing a periwinkle blue t-shirt, white shorts and hot pink flip flops. He had never seen her in so much color it made her eyes even more green.

Jughead backed away from her and raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I’m a teenage boy and you’re all soft and beautiful and-”

“If you see someone changing, you just walk away! You don’t stand there and watch!” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.

“It all happened so fast, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Jughead’s face was red and he was sweating.

Archie was killing himself laughing, rolling around on his bed. “Did Betty catch you checking out her goods? Dude, that’s so desperate, just ask her out like a regular person, you meatball!” He started laughing again.

“So how are we going to solve this?” Betty asked. “You’ve seen me, you got what you wanted, now what do I get from you?” She cocked an eyebrow.

Jughead’s eyes shifted from side to side. “Do you want to see my penis?” Jughead guessed and Betty huffed and rolled her eyes.

“No, Well,” she looked over to the side like she was pondering it but then shook the thought from her mind. “No, I want to be lead for the debate challenge next month.” Betty demanded.

“Yeah, okay. You are one of our best. You’re our lead.” Jughead sputtered out.

Betty smiled in satisfaction. “Good, well, I’ll see you around Arch.” She nodded curtly at her neighbour and glared at the boy on the floor. “Pervy McPervertson.” She turned and left the room.

Jughead took a breath and relaxed for the first time since he had been caught looking at her. He looked over at Archie who was still laughing.

“God, you are so pathetic, dude.” He wiped a tear away from his eye. “Do you have a thing for Betty?” He asked.

Jughead looked away from his friend. “Yeah, she intrigues me. She doesn’t seem to have the same motivations as everyone else.” He shrugged.

“Plus she’s super hot.” Archie pointed out.

“So hot.” Jughead agreed rubbing his face. “Did you ever go out with her?” He asked.

Archie shook his head. “We fooled around a couple of times but no. The spark wasn’t there so we gave up, no biggie. We’re just friends.” He took a deep breath. “But if you like her, just ask her out, you two make sense together. Give it a shot.” He suggested.

“After what I just did, I don’t think she’s ever going to talk to me again.” Jughead sighed.

“You never know until you try.” Archie pointed out while grabbing his book. “Let’s get this English nonsense over with. I want to play video games.”

Jughead nodded happy to do anything to take his mind off Betty Cooper.

The next day Jughead did whatever he could to avoid Betty. He took different hallways, ate in a different lounge and didn’t study in the library like he usually did during first period. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t skip the Chemistry class him Betty had together and he dreaded every step he took towards the classroom.

He sat as far away from her as possible and kept his head down making sure he didn’t make eye contact with the blonde.

“Okay so were going to have some fun. Today we are going to make foam.” The teacher announced with no enthusiasm. Mr. Townsend was usually hungover but he seemed particularly bad today. “All the things you need are in the back. Take one of these handouts, all the instructions are there and please be as quiet as possible.” He pleaded. “Oh, Cooper. Jones. Your lab partners are out sick today, so partner up.”

Betty and Jughead locked eyes from across the room.

“Fuck.” Jughead muttered as he gathered his things and took the vacant spot beside Betty. “Hey.” He said.

“Hello.” She responded before getting up to go get a handout.

Jughead let out a deep breath and closed his eyes in annoyance. When Betty returned she asked him to fetch all the ingredients while she set up everything at their station.

He put his goggles and apron on and started measuring things out.

“So did you like what you saw yesterday?” Betty asked with a nonchalance that threw him off. He spilt liquid all over the bench which caused her to snicker.

“W-what?” He stuttered.

“You saw the girls, what did you think?” She asked tilting her head to the side.

“Your breasts?” He questioned, immediately feeling stupid for doing so.

She nodded.

He put everything down and looked at her. “I mean they are perky and a good size. They fit your frame, more than a handful but not wasteful.”

“Why thank you. I love hearing the word wasteful associated with my boobs.” She started pouring the first ingredient into the beaker.

“I said not wasteful.” He pointed out. “You have a very nice body, you must know that.”

“I do. You’re just really cute when you’re flustered.” She grinned and picked up the instructions reading over them. “You have to pour that into that.” She explained pointing at a small tube and then at the large beaker.

Jughead smiled at her and blushed. She thought he was cute. He took the tube and poured the whole thing in.

At this point, every other group was ahead of them. The ingredients were measured so it would foam just slightly over the top and give everyone a laugh. The only problem was, Jughead didn’t measure out the second ingredient so when he poured all of it in the foam shot up to the ceiling.

“Oh, shit.” He exclaimed trying to think of a way to make it stop. He knew the chemicals weren’t lethal and wouldn’t hurt his exposed skin so he picked up the beaker and started running to the sink to try and rinse it away. He did just that and the foam stopped. He sighed in relief and turned to look at the rest of the class.

There was foam everywhere, all over the ceiling, the floor, some of their classmates and all over Betty.

“Cooper! Jones! To the principals office, now!” Mr. Townsend yelled.

The two of them looked at each other and Betty put her head down, trying to hide her smile.

They walked to the office after Betty stopped at the bathroom to clean herself up.

The punishment was swift and just. They had to stay after school to clean up the mess they had made. They both agreed with little to no talk back.

School was just letting out when they were excused and they headed back to the classroom, stopping at the janitors closet to pick up cleaning products.

They put their goggles and aprons away and got to it.

“How are we supposed to clean the ceiling?” Jughead asked looking over at Betty.

“Mop?” She suggested.

He shrugged, took the mop and clumsily tried to clean off the foam that stuck to the tiles.

Betty started laughing, doubling over as she watched him struggle. “Stop doing that, you pancake!” She said finally running over to stop him. “That’s not going to work.” She grabbed a cloth, climbed on the bench and reached up. She wiped the foam off easily.

Jughead watched her as the hem of her shirt lifted, her stomach showing.

“Can you please stop ogling me and start cleaning?” She teased with a grin not looking down at him.

Jughead nodded and started mopping up the floor until it looked cleaner than he had ever seen the floors at Riverdale High. They both moved onto the benches, even cleaning the ones that had nothing on them.

“High five, Jones!” She exclaimed walking up to him with an extended arm.

He high-fived her back with a smile. “Why are you being so nice to me today? You were furious with me yesterday.”

“I was embarrassed. Considering we didn’t really know each other, I thought it was weird that you were just staring at me.” She reasoned. “Why were you staring at me?”

“Other than the fact that you were naked?” He chuckled. “I guess I’ve always had a crush on you. You’re smart, mysterious and  beautiful and you don’t seem to care about being popular or attracting a guy or partying all the time. You seem to live by the beat of your own drum and I really like that.”

He looked up and jumped when he realized she was standing right in front of him. She was smiling softly before she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips were soft against his and his hand went up to grab her waist without thinking, he pulled her flush against him. Betty wrapped her arms around his neck and they breathed each other in. They both smelled like cleaning products and cheap school soap.

They parted while Jughead fingering the ends of Betty’s hair. He had imagined his first kiss with Betty in a myriad of different ways but he never thought it would be in the back of their Chemistry class. It was sweet but hot, quick but felt like a lifetime to him in his head. The kissed dazed him and he couldn’t believe his dreams and fantasies were coming true.

Betty bit her lip seductively and looked up at him. “I’m gonna go home, get cleaned up and then you are going to pick me up at 8 and take me to Pop’s for dinner.” She instructed.

He nodded. “I’ll see you at 8.”

“You know where I live.” She gave him one last kiss and left the classroom without another word.

[softstraykidsimagines]

Frostbite

Summary: you cycle to and from work in the winter to return to a very shocked and worried Felix

Pairing: Felix x reader

Genre: angst but I make up for it with FLOOF

Format: bulletpoint + readers thoughts in italic

A/N: this is inspired by me FREEZING MY ASS OFF when I cycled to guitar practice last week. Most of the details are what actually happened but... you know.... without Stray Kids lol

this wasn’t a choice ok? 

no one could take you, it was too far to walk, so you took your bike 

getting to work wasn’t actually that bad 

you had to walk along an icy part but that’s about it for the struggle 

you got through work all dandy

but you dreaded heading back home

the temperature had already dropped to -10.C (14.F)

and the wind was really kicking up

but it was either brave the weather or sleep in your work place

and that’s a big-ass NO-NO

Felix had sent you a text message asking if you were ok

but of course your luck was nonexistent today and your battery died before you could reply

so you quickly turned your bike lights on

put on your helmet (stay safe on the roads!!)

and set off

it wasn’t too far from the SK dorms, where you planned on staying for the night

and most of the journey back was downhill so it was fast moving 

but the temperature had now dropped to -14.C (6.F) and you had started to loose movement in your fingers

that day you couldn’t find gloves better than some fuzzy but fingerless ones so you were in particularly deep shit

you had to stop twice on the way back just to warm your hands up

you were nearly at the dorms and you could swear you were about to lose your fingers

you finally got there and you couldn’t feel your face, your hands were aching like they never have before 

and you were pretty sure you were about to die

you get inside the dorm to see Felix pacing in the main room

he finally sees you and stops walking around

“there you are!!! I’ve been so worried you didn’t answer my text and— y/n?!”

you had just started lying down on the heated floor because you’re as melodramatic as Felix you were so tired and cold

Felix immediately came over to you and sat you up and carefully looked you up and down

“y/n, your hands are freezing! Your fingers have gone blue!! Why are you so cold??”

you didn’t get the time to answer when Woojin walked in ready to greet you after hearing the commotion

he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw your condition, and Felix quickly asked him to go make hot tea

“Felix, I’m fine seriously” HA good luck convincing this boy of that

“don’t be ridiculous! You need to rest and warm up! JEONGIN-AH, SEUNGMIN-AH!!!!!”

the two youngest ran out and stared stunned at you sitting on the floor next to Felix

“y/n, what’s wrong?” Jeongin asked with a worried expression 

before you could say that you were ok, Felix cut in

“I need you two to get some tissues and warm blankets. Y/n is freezing cold”

and they would scurry off before you could tell them that you actually weren’t dying and that Felix was overreacting a bit too much. 

he pulled you up and shoved you towards the sofa and sat you down, taking off your scarf, gloves and winter jacket 

“tell me you didn’t walk back from work” he said with a dark tone under his words

you felt kinda scared

Felix had never been outright angry at you

like sure you two would bicker from time to time

but you’d never him use this tone of voice

you finally answered “no I wanted to get back quickly so I used my bike

he looked at to with owl eyes “IT’S FEBRUARY, Y/N!!! HOW CAN EVEN CONSIDER DOING THAT?”

now he really freaked you out. He’d never yelled directly at you before

“I’m sorry! But no one could pick me up and my phone died before I could text you! I wouldn’t have done this if I had the choice!”

no use, this kid was practically steaming with anger

Seungmin and Jeongin came running back into the room with some blankets and a packet of tissues, so you quickly wrapped yourself up to heat up a bit

but your fingers still ached and were still blue under the nails

“you idiot... you stupid, stupid idiot” Felix kept repeating under his breath

suddenly Minho came into the room, giving you a tired but perplexed look (he must have been taking a nap and got woken up from Felix’s yelling)

“why does y/n look like they’re in a cocoon and trying to turn into a butterfly?” he asked

“Y/n decided it was a smart idea to cycle to work and back in this temperature” replied Felix, avoiding your eye. “Now they’re freezing cold and about to lose their fingers”

“I’m actually ok, just a little chilly” you tried to cut in, but Felix looked at you with a deadly expression and you decided it was better to not try and convince him you were ok for now

Minho immediately noticed the tension between you two “How about I order some food for when Binnie, Chan, Jisung and Hyunjin get back” he suggested. “Maybe chicken wings?” And he ran off before either of you could argue

I suppose they were working on a new part of a song

“I can’t believe you” Felix growled

you felt kinda indignant, cause you knew it was a dumb idea but you’re stubborn you couldn’t just miss work

“it was that or I miss work and I’m not gonna do that” you huffed. “And I couldn’t call any of you because 1) my phone is dead and 2) I didn’t want to interrupt you if you were working”

“Your health is a lot more important than my work ok?!” Felix raised his voice again, making you wince. 

“Whatever, let me know when you feel better” he snapped and got up, heading for his room. 

you kinda just sat there thinking wtf just happened cause you were not at all used to Felix acting so mad at you, you usually would work it out relatively quickly. But this was obviously something he was going to keep up

then the dorm was filled with the happy chatter of the four rappers as they entered the room 

as you expected, they went quiet when they saw you sitting silently on the sofa wrapped in three thick duvets

“Are you ok, y/n?” Asked Chris

“Yeah! Don’t worry I just got a bit cold coming back from work” you tried to not let them worry about you

“That’s an understatement” laughed Woojin, walking in with a mug of tea and a little plate of biscuits. “Sorry, y/n. I couldn’t find your favorite cookies, I think Changbin ate them again” he said sheepishly as he passed you your tea. 

“I DON’T EAT THEM STOP BLAMING ME” squawked Changbin angrily, making you chuckle. These were the boys you loved so much, and they were so concerned for you

it was enough to make you tear up slightly 

“Minho also ordered chicken wings for us” added Woojin

the boys cheered and started sitting around you

“did someone say chicken wings?” asked Seungmin, poking his head out of his doorway 

“they’ll be delivered soon” said Minho, sitting next you you on the sofa. “Is Felix coming?”

Seungmin shook his head. “Nah, he plans on sulking. He’s really angry at y/n”

Chan snorted. “Of course he is. What a drama queen! He’ll come around when the food arrives”

the food was delivered a while after and you all ate together, with you still wrapped up in your blankets. 

Felix didn’t join you

once you had finished dinner, you started chatting happily, and you started feeling warmth in your hands again

“I’m sorry I was so stupid by cycling in this weather” you finally said when there was silence. “I promise I’ll never do it again. I’ll find a way to call you. Though I think I’m still gonna catch a cold” you sniffed

the boys nodded and murmured reassurance

Jisung jumped in: “i think it’s to Felix you’ll need apologize, y/n” he chuckled. 

you shuffled gently in your seat. “I dont think he wants to talk to me. I should give him some space and we can talk about it tomorrow, when he’s feeling better”

Hyunjin started laughing. “I thought you were way smarter than us, y/n! You should talk to Felix now. And he’s sulking just because he’s good at it. He once gave me the silent treatment when I ate the last of those (your fav biscuits)! He’s a little dramatic in that respect”

“so it was YOU! I WAS FRAMED” screeched Changbin, making everyone howl with laughter

once you were no longer wheezing from laughing so hard, you stood up. “Alright imma go talk to him. Wish me luck!”

you quietly opened the door into Felix’s room “Felix? Can we talk?” You ask quietly

“I’m still pissed at you” he mumbles from under his pillow

“look I know it was stupid. But I couldn’t miss work! I promise I’ll never do it again! I never want to do it again” you say pleadingly

he stays silent for a minute, and just when you were about to leave, he spoke

“I don’t want you getting hurt. I hate worrying about you. I was so scared when I couldn’t contact you and it was even worse when you basically collapsed onto the floor when you got back! Just promise me you’ll call me if it ever happens again”

“I will, I promise” you held out you pinky finger and he slowly linked his with yours, sealing the deal. 

“Can I....?” You ask quietly, motioning to his bed

He smiled

“then you’ll be warmer!” he said, jumping out from under his cover to wrap his arms around you torso and pulling you into bed with him

you cuddled together in silence, eventually falling asleep in each others arms, perfectly warm in each others embrace 

[BONUS]

the door creaked open as Seungmin poked his head into the room

he smiled brightly when he saw the two of you fast asleep, all cuddled up

he closed the door to then turned and face a huddled group of Stray Kids looking at him expectantly

“So?” whispered Jisung. 

“They’re both knocked out” answered Seungmin, beaming. “I knew Felix couldn’t stay mad at y/n for too long”

the boys all giggled.

“I guess you’re gonna have to sleep in another room there, Seungmin” laughed Chan. “You don’t want to wake them up”

so the boys decided to let Seungmin sleep in the same room as Chan, Minho and Woojin, leaving the two of you in peace.

OOF ok this was SO FUN to write lmao have fun, peeps! I plan on writing a lot more now I’ve found motivation (throws confetti in celebration)

[unholyhelbiglinked]

Pack Mentality | ONE

Her feet dug into the soft soil- the moisture almost cooling against hot and rigid skin. Every single inch of her body seemed to be coated in a mix of blood and dirt. It caked along her legs and tried to cover the already long and tender scratches that passing branches had made.  Her breath was taking up most of her attention, heartbeat pounding roughly against the inner edge of her wrist.

A salty taste ran against her tongue- iron and metallic as the blood that was fortunate enough to make it into her mouth created a hardened edge on the corner of pursed lips. She was trying to catch her breath, trying to stop from hyperventilating.

It wasn’t working, her nails digging roughly into nearby bark that coated a tree to her right. She could feel the sting that the surface provided. The sensation reminded her of falling off a scooter or bike. The skin on her palms would tear away and leave a bloody mess for her mother to clean up later. It was all part of the learning process. But this? This was different.

The moonlight shown through thick boroughs of trees, there was never a break in the foliage. Everything looked green during the day but now it was pitch. Grace couldn’t find a way through, not with the pain eating away at her thigh.

She had seen things out here before. The beartraps and different game hunters were normal. They would often be captivated, too captivated to try a thing other than snap a few pictures. Their jaws would hang open and their breath would just fall short of stopping all together.

All was quiet now, her palms jolted against the wound as condensation from her frantic breath moved against velvet sky. The stars weren’t showing tonight, everything was empty and desolate. Grace could hear the sounds of a nearby road, cars were busy passing through the towns limits. Her towns limits.

Grace slowly peeled her hand away from the lesion. Syrupy liquid poured from the gaping hole that was now embedded in her skin. The unsavory burn of a hot blade seemed to rip through her like nothing she had ever felt before.

A slight growl moved past her lips as she hoisted herself away from the large tree that she was still leaning on. Every single inch of her body ached and begged for some type of relief. The cold of the night finally getting to her. The fabric of the fleece blanket that was wrapped around her naked body didn’t do much to curb the hypothermia that was sure to set in.

Grace continued her journey back home. The suburbs were a nasty place filled with peeping neighbors who were more interested in if people picked up their dog poop and kept their cars under the speed limit. They were sure to pull back sheer curtains and notice a barefoot girl limping home in the middle of the night.

The woods broke away easily enough, leading to a well-lit street. The bulbs of lamps would light up large golden circles like they were copying the moon that hung heavily against crush velvet. The teenage girl made sure to avoid them, not stepping anywhere that she was too visible. She stuck to the curbs, almost like a balancing act.

Her thoughts ran wild as the scent of motor oil filled her senses, her head snapping to the side as matted blonde hair fell into sharp and unwarranted eyes. The neon red and blue flashing lights that created odd shadows against large houses made her chest tighten. Her nails dug into her palms, the fabric of the blanket stopping her from doing any real damage.

The police car wasn’t a good sign, her footfalls stopping just short of another ring of light. There was no use in running, the pain was too immense. She had calmed down quite a bit, but still not enough to hone in on exactly what she needed to. She didn’t like her odds to much.

The breaks squeaked against the cold, a younger man behind the passenger side door didn’t even bother rolling down his window. Grace couldn’t see him well at first, eyes clouded from what was left of tears she refused to let fall.

He was good looking- his hair a chestnut brown. It was styled a five o’clock shadow taking up a stone cut jaw. His uniform was hugging his body a deep jacket with a sheriff’s logo was across his shoulders. It contrasted with the tan of his shirt and pants. Grace let her own shoulders drop.

“Grace?” The man took a step forward, wary. His shoes tapped against the ground as he let himself be seen against the light of the lamp. His deep blue eyes looked like they were almost glowing. It was ironic to the teenager. “What the hell are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

She didn’t’ answer him, sniffing instead as she averted her gaze. His accent was thick, so thick that she never understood his motives for coming to a new country only to become a small-town deputy in the middle of nowhere.

“You must be freezing.”

Grace didn’t answer once more but took notice to how fast he pulled his jacket from his own arms. He placed it over the blanket that was so torn and dirtied with whatever the forest floor had to offer. She flinched under the contact at first. Still scared. Still seething.

The coat was warm, though. Comforting. It smelled like him; gunpowder and aftershave. Everything about it was like home. That was exactly where she wanted to be right now. “You’ve never seen a walk of shame before?” She quipped.

“No, can’t say I have. I usually cook a girl breakfast and expect her to stay the night.” The man cracked a smile, shaking his head as he blew visible air out of his mouth as he carefully reached up and pulled a leaf from her mane of hair. “Not run off in the middle of the night through the woods.”

“What can I say, Mike?” She lifted her chin, “I don’t pick gentleman’s.”

“We need to get you home,” he said, not paying much mind to her comment as she let out a long and drawn out breath. He ignored that too, ushering her to the police car. She was lucky, happy to have a place to sit down.

Mike didn’t’ seem to notice her flinch as she bent her leg. The cab of the car was warm, goosebumps raising against her skin as she got used to the change in temperature. The other officer glanced back at her, deep olive eyes not shocked or deterred. “evening, Grace.”

“Hi, Barry.” She mumbled, watching as Mike sat back down in the passenger seat with a sigh. His counterpart seemed to stare at him for a few seconds before putting the car in drive. He had turned off the lights, not wanting to cause more of a stir in the small cul-de-sac. She was close enough to her house to walk the rest of the way, but she relented, hoping that she wouldn’t’ get blood on the seats.

Her dad was going to kill her if the searing pain in her leg didn’t’ first, but it was a good sign that the house was dark by the time the car pulled up along the curb. It loomed against the slowly turning horizon, her eyes burning from lack of sleep as the sun just barely threatened it’s appearance.

Mike pulled the door open, another blast of cold hitting her as she pulled herself away from the backseat in the most inconspicuous way possible. The young officer had his head cocked to the side as Grace handed him back his coat, thanking him in a mumbled voice as she started to walk towards the door.

He followed. She knew it was too easy. The walkway was lit nicely by small lanterns that would change color during Christmas to red and green. Right now they were a dull blue. The kind that some people used as headlights, even though that wasn’t really legal. Grace didn’t’ care much for legality at the moment.

Grace was shorter than Mike, he loomed over her as he rang the doorbell. The sound echoed against her ears and made her cringe It was loud and deafening, her whole entire body on edge as it shook from the cold and the fear. She watched carefully as her parents bedroom lit up, casting an odd glow against the lawn.

She sucked in a breath as her fathers loud footfalls banged and clattered. He hated being disturbed this late. She hated disturbing him at all. But when the door creaked open, there was a look of worry. Not one of malice. Not yet.

He was a wise man with deep and kind eyes. A beard was trimmed, grey streaking through something that used to be brown. A deep white t-shirt hugged his sides, a few faded tattoo’s were etched into his large biceps. He reminded Grace of a bear.

“I’m sorry to disturb you this late, Sir.” Mike said with little confidence, making the girl to his side watch him carefully. Most people crumbled under her fathers gaze. “Grace here was walking down Willowdale.”

The mans eyes moved towards his daughters before moving back to the officer. They were kind and unrelenting all at once. “Thank you, Mike. I can take it from here. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Sir,” He nodded, squeezing Grace’s shoulder softly before turning and walking back to the squad car. The young girl almost didn’t want him to leave. He had a warming presence, one that was immediately shattered by the clearing of her dad’s throat. He had stepped aside, allowing her into the foyer.

Her mom was leaning against the banister halfway up the stairs, her deep eyes filled with worry as the man behind her let out a long sigh before closing the door. Light was streaming clearly through the place at this point, Grace leaning heavily against the wall. She didn’t know how much longer she could stand at his point.

“You’re bleeding,” Her mom took a few steps down the stairs, her socks padding against the hardwood floor.

“What happened?” Her dad asked, squeezing the bridge of his nose. He was frustrated, voice a low snarl.

“I was ambushed.” She drew in a shaky breath. “They came out of nowhere. Five, maybe six of them. I don’t know.”

Grace pressed her fingers against the edge of her hairline, careful not to let the blanket fall. Her mom walked past her husband and daughter, heading towards the kitchen. Grace assumed she was searching for a first aid kit, maybe even grasping a glass of water.

“They were experienced. Not like the game hunters that hang around these parts. They had something more. Agility maybe. But I couldn’t keep up the fight- not with them surrounding me like that.”

“You were alone?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. The pitch in his voice changed. She could tell that more than enough thoughts were running through his head, but a streak of anger pushed through. “This is why we run in pairs, Grace. Not because you’re a child. Or because I’m strict. Because of this.”

“How was I supposed to know this would happen?” Grace spoke quickly.

“It can always happen.” Her dad stepped closer, making her push harder against the wall as she watched his facial expression contort in rage. “There is always a possibility that you won’t be strong enough to hold out as long as you did. To run as fast as you did.”

Grace stayed quiet. Every ounce of argument that she had left within her was slowly dulling. She knew her dad was right, even if he had such an alpha way of explaining things to her. She had known the rules since she was young, but things had been quiet. They had always been quiet until tonight.

“Hey,” he grasped her shoulder, making her flinch. The touch wasn’t pressing too hard, or startling to her. He wanted to draw her attention, and it worked. Her mother was coming to sense in the corner of her eye. The teenager could clearly make out the white cloth that she grasped in her hands. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

She nodded, wishing that she had the liberty to squeeze past her parents and dash up the stairs to a hot shower. She wasn’t even sure if she could do that with the damage done right above her kneecap. The blonde had her shoulders squared, trying not to show any pain, trying to conceal the weakness.

“your leg must be bothering you.” Her mother saw right through her, handing her the cloth.

“This will take longer to heal. A day or two at the max.” Her dad spoke thoughtfully. “Go upstairs. Get cleaned up, you have school in an hour.”

“Dad,” Grace objected, fully believing that she could take the day off. She didn’t know if she could sit through calculous on a half hour of sleep and a bum leg. There were enough people in that damned building that would notice how damaged she was, and none of them were afraid to keep it to themselves.  

He held his large hand out in front of him, cutting her off in her tracks. “Go upstairs, I need to make some calls.”

She nodded, saddened and pained. She didn’t’ dare speak out against him again though, his pure authority pouring through every inch of the situation. Grace knew these calls would lead to more trouble than solution.

The only people worth calling this early were expecting their phone to ring at any second.

[charlinert]

As Easy as Falling 27/?

New Chapter of As Easy As Falling….

Summary:  Felicity Smoak had everything figured out until tragic news causes her to rethink her life. As part of dealing with tragedy she embraces her adventurous side in the form of skydiving. Will love be waiting for her between the clouds or will she let tragedy keep her away from falling?

Read from the BEGINNING AO3

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

CHAPTER 27

Since her mini meltdown Oliver very rarely spends the nights at his own apartment. It suits her that way though, the nightmares are much less frequent when she knows he’s there during the night. Although she would love to have him with her during the day too, he still is very adamant about earning his own salary, even though his family has been reunited and a large trust fund is there for his use.

Since the moment she opens her eyes, knowing the hair clipper is in her bag burns her thoughts, but for some reason she chooses to ignore it. Every time she touches her head the image of the clipper comes back with a vengeance and she just pushes into her little storage box in the back of her mind.

This goes on for the duration of the day when finally she realises that a genius trying to fool a genius just makes you a fool or rather a moron. She decides to gather as much courage as possible and takes out the clipper of her bag. She walks into the bathroom and takes the elastic band out of her hair letting the golden locks fall over her shoulders. The thought of knowing this might be the last time she will feel that in a while makes her shiver.

She plugs in the hair clipper and decides to test a small piece on the front of her head that’s left a big bald spot. She turns it on and the sound of the clipper makes her heart race. She wants to close her eyes, but realises she might cut off more than just her hair if she does something as stupid as this. She takes a deep breath and carefully brings it closer to her head. The clipper meets her hair and the last strands of hair that make up this specific spot now lie on the bathroom floor.

She takes a moment just staring at the hair. Tears form in her eyes, but the moment to give into her emotions are cut short when her phone starts to ring.

At first she wants to ignore it, but since her little breakdown an unspoken arrangement was made that she would answer her phone at all times, so her loved ones wouldn’t expect the worst.

She swallows thickly and quickly moves into her bedroom to find her ringing phone on her nightstand. She’s surprised when the number on the screen shows ‘Queen Consolidated’. Curtis isn’t at the office today, so who on earth would phone her from Queen Consolidated?

“Hello?” she skeptically answers.

“Felicity? Hi, it’s Moira Queen, I am sorry to bother you, is now a good time to talk?”

She’s thrown by the voice on the other side. Dinner went really well and she thought they got off to a good start, but never did she ever think they are on a friendly telephone call basis.

“Oh, hi Moira.” she tries to hide the surprise in her voice, “is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes dear, nothing to worry yourself about.”

“That’s good to hear.” she says as she tries to figure out the meaning of this phone call, “if you’re looking for Oliver he’ll only be back later tonight.”

“No my dear, I am speaking to the right person.” she answers and it confuses Felicity even more. Her lips form her usual ‘o’ but no sound makes an escape.

“First, I want to thank you for coming to dinner last night. I know you are not feeling well and that you’re tired all the time, but I want you to know how much it means to me that you put your own feelings aside for the sake of my son. Last night meant a lot for our family and I think in a way it’s because of you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to her statement. Yes she played a role in getting Oliver to make peace with what happened to his father, but it didn’t exactly happen in a healthy way.

“I love your son Moira, and I only want the best for him.” she decides to say.

“And I can see why he’s so taken with you dear. The way he looks at you…it’s the same way Robert used to look at me….”

“I’m sorry Moira…I can’t imagine…”

“It’s quite alright dear, some days are easier than others.”

The thought that Oliver or her mother or Curtis might have this conversation with someone one day brings her attention to a familiar ache in her chest.

“Felicity, the main reason for my call though, is that I would like you to accompany me to Central City this weekend. I am meeting with a possible investor in expanding our Applied Sciences Division and Walter Steele had a lot of positive things to tell me about how you handled the Kord Industries Project despite your illness. I believe you showed a lot of fresh innovative ideas and it would be a wonderful privilege if you would agree to join me for the meeting.”

Felicity is thrown for a six. When Moira starts talking again, she realises that she’s been rendered speechless and hasn’t made a peep since Moira’s invitation.

“I understand you might not be feeling up to traveling, that’s why I consulted with Dr. Isaacs before I decided to give you a call. We’ll be flying with the Queen Consolidated Jet, which will cut our travelling time in half. I will make sure that you’re comfortable in flight and that you have everything you need. The hotel we’ll be staying at is right around the corner from where we’ll be meeting the investor, so you really don’t need to worry about anything.”

Does Dr. Isaacs consult with everyone except her?

“Wow Moira, this is….wow!”

“And of course Oliver and Thea will be joining us. Although the motive behind the trip is business related I thought it might be a good time for us all to spend some family time together.”

Family? Did she actually include her as family?

“Moira, this is an incredible honour. Thank you for considering me. I would love to go.” she’s amazed by how quickly she said yes to this, knowing that she might soon be known as the former Head of Applied Sciences.

“Then it’s settled.” Moira sounds positively happy, another word she never thought she would use to describe the CEO of Queen Consolidated. “I will make the final arrangements with Oliver and then we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you Moira.”

“Take care of yourself Felicity. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye Moira.”

She puts her phone back on her nightstand. The news hasn’t fully sunk in yet, and then she catches her reflection in the mirror of her vanity. She’s pale, dark circles under her eyes and a huge bald spot on the right of her head where she just tested the clipper. She immediately wants to phone Moira and tell her she’s changed her mind. How will an investor take anything she says seriously when she looks like this?

Her mother’s words ‘you can do anything you put that genius mind to’ rings in her head. Despite all the challenges she’s had to face in the past, she’s pushed passed it, she’s made her own destiny and she will not let a terminal illness withhold her from continuing to do that. She’s strong and even if she needs to go to that meeting without hair, that’s what she’s going to do.

With new found determination, she stands up from her bed and walks back into the bathroom. She plugs in the clipper and brings it to her head. The small edges of the clipper meet her hair. She drags it over her head, but then clipper stalls.

She soon realises the clipper is entangled in her hair and that’s the reason why it stopped working. She tries to pull it loose, but her hair are like vines around the clipper and will not let it go.

Out of pure frustration she finds a scissors and starts to cut away the hair around the clipper, but still nothing. It’s at the back of her head, she can’t see anything except for the base of the clipper proudly posing on the top of her head and a mess of hair everywhere.

“So now you hold on to your roots. I see you evil hair, I see you!” she yells at her hair in the mirror.

She’s irritated with herself. She should have known to rather cut her hair shorter than attempting to shave it at the length it is on her own. She looks like a character out of a horror movie. All she needs is fake blood and she would probably win best dressed for a Halloween costume competition.

She decides to take a break when she feels like she wants to faint. Since she can’t introduce alcohol into the situation, caffeine will have to do.

She unplugs the clipper, letting the cord dangle beside her face and drag behind her as she walks to the kitchen to make herself a very strong, much needed cup of coffee.

She brings the hot liquid to her mouth expecting it to soothe her, but what she doesn’t expect is the front door to open revealing her handsome boyfriend…home early.

His blue eyes meet hers but the moment he takes in her appearance his wide smile changes into a confused frown within seconds. The look on his face is priceless and so incredibly adorable. She can just imagine what he’s seeing and the thought makes her burst out in a laughing fit. She laughs and laughs. She’s sick and losing her hair but she cannot stop laughing. At this point she decides that laughing is better than crying and even though tears are streaming down her face, she continues to laugh till everything hurts.

Oliver is astounded by what he sees. He doesn’t move an inch, merely standing on the other side of the counter with a grin on his face until Felicity calms down from her laughing fit.

“Do you know you’re the most adorable thing in my life?” she says as she wipes the tears from her eyes.

“Well, I want to say the same, but I can only decide once you tell me about your new look.” he jokes.

“Ugh, it’s such a long story.” she says, subconsciously playing with the cord hanging from her head.

“How about you give me the short version then?”

“Last night at dinner, I asked Thea if I could borrow her hair clipper to persuade you to cut yours…” he gives her a look silently telling her he’s not cutting his hair. “I know you don’t want to cut your hair, it was just the motivation to get your sister to give me the clipper without a hundred questions how it really was for me.”

He nods in understanding. His eyes are suddenly sad, but he lets her speak.

“The hair loss started getting worse while we were at your mother’s house and I realised that I was just postponing the inevitable….anyways, I wanted to do it on my own, because I couldn’t handle the pitied looks at a hair salon….as you can see it worked out great, I look like Smeagol!” she gestures to her hair and pouts her lips.

“Well even with that look, you’ll always be my precious!” he says imitating Gollum’s voice.

He moves around the counter as she chuckles at his antics and he gives her a soft kiss against her temple.

“Do you want me to call your mom to come and help you?” he asks, stroking her cheek, capturing the remains of the fallen tears.

“No, please don’t. It’s already hard for me as it is, and even though I know she means well, my mom will be too emotional and I don’t think I can handle that right now.”

“Okay.”

“Since you’re home though…maybe you can help me…if you want to, no pressure, I understand if it’s too much for you, I just ne…”

He cuts her off with a lingering kiss. Her eyes flutter closed as she relishes the feeling of his lips against hers. He cradles her face between his hands and gently strokes her cheeks again.

“I’d love to help you.” he whispers against her lips and her stomach does a backflip when she feels his hot breath ghost against her face.

He smiles at her when he sees the pink shade of blush against her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes, almost completely removing the black circles under her eyes.

“You’re the most adorable thing in my life too Felicity.” the words make her smile and sigh all at the same time. There’s no end to his charm, he just knows what to do and when to do it and she just hopes she’ll be able to share many more of these little moments with him.

He picks up one of the kitchen chairs and follows her into the bathroom. She takes a seat and gives him the scissors, so he can see how he can rescue the clipper from her evil hair. He works so gently, trying his best not to hurt her, but his precision saves the clipper and the nation rejoices.

“My hero.” she says as he kisses her on her neck. His scruff tickles her and her whole body responds with goose bumps.

“Are you ready?” he asks, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

She doesn’t answer, but he takes her nod as confirmation and starts shaving her head.

He slides the clippers over her head. Bit by bit the blonde locks fall to the ground, when finally he’s done. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, almost not recognising herself. A stray tear rolls down her cheek, but he’s there to catch it.

He comes around and stands in front of her blocking her sight to the mirror. He has a big smile on his face. Love streaming out of his eyes as he captures her gaze.

“You are and will always be the most beautiful girl in the world to me Felicity Smoak. With or without hair, it’s your heart, who you are that has made me fall harder than I’ve ever fallen for anyone in my life.” he bends down, holding on to her knees to hold his balance, “you, my love are so incredibly brave and I love you with my whole heart.” he gives her a chaste kiss but she can feel this all the way to her toes as she finally lets a sob escape her lips.

He pulls her up from the chair and holds her tight against him, letting her cry, letting the new reality set in.

After a while they break apart and she smiles at him. It’s a genuine smile and she knows that as long as he’s there, he’s with her, she’ll be okay.

“So I thought in supporting you, I might shave my hair too.”

“No!” she whines. “I love your hair like this.” she runs her fingers through the hairs on his neck as she pulls him closer for a kiss. “I don’t want you to shave your hair Oliver, it helps me fall asleep at night and also very importantly this that you’ve got going over here is super sexy.” she smiles, but her face blushes bright pink again.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. I won’t shave off everything, but it will be short enough to look like a solidarity cut, I’ll leave enough for you to play with, for medical reasons.” he winks.

“Deal.” she says and kisses him on the cheek.

She leaves him in the bathroom and stands in front of her cupboard staring at her clothes. So what do you pack for a weekend in Central City?

So we went from this hairstyle:

To this one:

Thank you to everyone who’s supporting this fic by reading and commenting and liking and such! You guys are truly awesome!!!

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[sad-trash-writing]

“I’m a history major and i keep getting into arguments with one of my classmates about things because they keep saying i’m wrong so i finally scream, ‘how would you know?!?’ and they’re like, ‘because i was THERE!’ and that’s how we all find out that there is a centuries-old vampire taking our British history class” AU bioquake

You got me too excited for this prompt and now this is spiraling into something much larger in my brain thanks a lot  jk I love it and you

Sorry this took so long, but here it is now!

AO3 Link 

Daisy gulped and glanced down at her notecards. Normally, she would have just skimmed the research, thrown together a 2-slide powerpoint, and made something up on the fly for the oral presentation. For this assignment, though, she had a powerful motivator to excel: spite. 

Daisy threw a quick glare to the front row where her least favorite classmate, Jemma Simmons, was leaning on her propped up elbow on her desk, looking bored as usual. Jemma was the primary reason Daisy chose this topic to present. Jemma always was such a know-it-all when it came to British history, even to the professor. And the professor let her correct him all the time!

So for this presentation, Daisy put in weeks of research. She read seven books  cover to cover on the downfall of Charles I, and even went back and read the sources they sourced! This powerpoint was a work of art and she even had meticulously organized notecards to make sure she wouldn’t miss anything.

  If she got anything less than 100% on this presentation she was going to give Professor Coulson an earful. 

But her primary focus was Jemma Simmons. If she wasn’t such a pain in the ass in class every day, she would be exactly Daisy’s type. Cute, smart, kind of awkward, a mischievous twinkle in her eye every time she was about to say something snarky. 

Unfortunately, usually that snarky comment was directed at Daisy so it was less cute. 

Daisy had gotten through the entire presentation without a peep from Jemma (though she was pretty sure the sorority girls in the back were Snapchatting each other through the whole thing). Now, she just had to wrap it up. 

Daisy clicked the slide to the painting she found of Charles I walking up to his execution and flipped to the next notecard. 

“Charles I was sentenced to death on January 30, 1648. As he climbed the scaffold, his last words were ‘I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no disturbance can be, no disturbance in the world,'“ Daisy concluded. 

The 'last words’ bit was a little dramatic for Daisy’s taste, typically, but she thought it added a little spice to the otherwise dry subject. She noticed most of the students were actually paying attention now and looking interested. 

And then Jemma freaking Simmons had to mumble under her breath, “That’s not what happened.”

Here we go. “Sorry, did you have something to say?” Daisy asked with false sweetness. 

Jemma barely looked up from her notebook where she was now doodling in the margins. “I was just saying that’s not what happened. Are you sure you were using reputable sources?”

Daisy felt her eye twitch as she clicked to the last slide of her sources with maybe a little more force than was strictly necessary. “Yeah, I did. All were published books that used first hand accounts that people who were at the execution wrote right afterwards.”

“Did they all use the same source perhaps?”

Daisy’s eye twitched again. They had, in fact. “Yeah, he was a very reliable historian who—”

“He was a bloody liar, is what he was,” Jemma grumbled under her breath. 

Oh, hell no. Daisy read the first-hand account, which she practically had to translate, since it was written in Ye Olde English where all the ’s’s were 'f’s and there were 'e’s where they shouldn’t be. That was the last straw for Daisy. 

“How would you know?!” she shouted, throwing down her notecards. 

“BECAUSE I WAS THERE,” Jemma screamed back. 

All fidgeting and bored shuffling stilled so the room fell deadly silent. As the vitriol faded from Jemma’s face, wide-eyed horror replaced it. Before Daisy could form a question, Jemma was gathering up her books. 

“Excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be,” she grumbled, piling all her books into her arms and darting for the door. 

Professor Coulson slowly stood and strolled to the front of the classroom. “Um, class dismissed. See you all Thursday. Excellent presentation, Daisy.”

Daisy tossed a quick 'thanks’ in his direction, before throwing her bag over her shoulder and sprinting after Jemma. She wasn’t getting off that easy. 

She quickly caught sight of Jemma’s brown hair, weaving through the crowd of students just released from class. Daisy jogged to catch up to her. 

“Please leave me alone,” Jemma growled. 

“What did you mean 'you were there?’ You can’t possibly mean that you were actually alive in 1648,” Daisy prodded, ignoring Jemma’s request. 

“Of course not, that would be absurd,” Jemma replied flatly. 

“But seriously, what did you mean? Are you just that into history that it feels like you were there?” 

“Please go away.” Jemma turned down a less crowded hallway and picked up her pace even more, so Daisy was practically running alongside her. 

“No! If you’re going to continually ruin my presentations with your snarky comments, I deserve to know why you think you know more than the rest of the world,” Daisy demanded. 

Jemma ignored her. 

Daisy was starting to get winded from jogging through the building after Jemma. She reached out and grabbed Jemma’s arm to make her slow her pace. 

“Hey, I’m just trying to—” 

Jemma whirled on her with a hiss. Her eyes flashed red and her angry snarl was punctuated by two long, sharp fangs that Daisy definitely had not noticed before. 

Daisy stumbled backwards and dropped her bag. “What the— You’re—”

Before Daisy could form another non-sentence, a hand grabbed the front of her shirt and she was forcefully shoved into a dark, empty classroom. Daisy cringed in the dark, waiting for those fangs to pierce her skin or for sharp claws to rip her throat out or any of the typical horror movie tropes of….vampires. 

But it never happened. Daisy cracked open an eye and Jemma was standing there with her hands on her hips looking disappointed. 

“You just had to be nosy. You couldn’t just let things be and continue your short little life without knowing about the existence of the creatures in your bedtime stories—”

Daisy was getting lectured. The vampire was going to stand there and lecture her. Typical. 

“I mean, you just had six more weeks of class, but you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut and let it be and now—”

“Hey! You’re the one who had to keep being a pain about my 'historical inaccuracy,'“ Daisy snapped back with air quotes. She probably shouldn’t be sassing a vampire either, but too late to stop now. “If anyone couldn’t keep their mouth shut, it was you and— wait, did you say creatures? With an ’s’?”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Think back. Don’t some things about this university seem strange to you? Like how there are always more Koenig brothers than you think there are? Or how our swim team never comes close to be beaten, even though they never practice? Or how about Professor Coulson’s spontaneous three month trip to Tahiti in the middle of the semester?”

Daisy wracked her brain. She had never thought too had about it, but there were some weird things she had noticed. Like the massive wall around the main campus and how most of the student body claimed to have seen a pack of wolves roaming just outside campus limits. None of this seemed strange enough to give much thought to, though. “I thought Coulson won a trip from a travel company,” Daisy mused. 

Jemma sighed. “He was dead. He came back to life. He does that from time to time. Koenig can clone himself and the swim team is full of sea nymphs.”

“What?” Daisy staggered back until she hit the concrete wall. “So the whole school is full of monsters?”

Jemma winced. Maybe that wasn’t quite the right word to use. “Only about 50% of the student population is non-human. The other 50% has no clue. They get to carry on living their oblivious lives without this knowledge. And we’re going to keep it that way.”

Jemma stepped into Daisy’s space and Daisy tensed, expecting the worst. Jemma’s eyes had returned to their usual caramelly brown, but they were no less piercing. Daisy’s vision narrowed to the single point that was Jemma as her eyes bored into Daisy and she felt like she was sinking into the floor. She had to squeeze her eyes shut and shake her head to get rid of the feeling.  

“Forget everything you’ve learned in the past ten minutes. We have a very delicate balance at this school and it’s not wise to to upset it, so don’t even think of blabbing this information to the world. You will not only put yourself in harm’s way, you will get me in trouble. And know that I was around during the creation of every medieval torture device you’ve ever heard of and some too heinous to even record, so I’d advise you stay off the radar. Understood?”

Even though Jemma spoke at barely above a whisper, Daisy’s ears were ringing at the end of her speech (threat?) and Daisy suspected it had nothing to do with the volume of the room. 

“Um…yes?” Daisy croaked out. 

Jemma took a step back and smiled. “Good. Sleep well.”

Without another word, she breezed from the room, leaving Daisy alone. The second she rounded the corner, Daisy gasped in a breath like she had been underwater for hours, a weight that Daisy hadn’t noticed lifting from her chest. Well, the rest of the semester sure was going to be interesting.

[youreghanamissme]

Hey There, Brown Booger

a11/14/2017

It's that time of year again-- when I'll have to filter my tears, my sweat, and every drop of water imaginable because the rain has finished. The landscape has reverted back to its tan and dusty self. I can no longer leave anything of value near the windows overnight lest I want to a nice coat of dust on it in the morning. My boogers are red-brown, and soon, my hacking cough caused by the dust will return in full force. Moto drivers have already started to wear their face masks, some of which perform double duty as a fashion statement (fuzzy cheetah print is all the rage right now, y'all). It's been a while since I've sat down and typed about myself. I wish I could say it is because I'm a very, very important person who hasn't a modicum of time to spend on my arse, detailing the contents of my crazy life to the internet. Nope, nada, nein! Idleness is three-fifths of existence in country. Henceforth, the abridged capitulation of the past few months for my five readers out there (hey peeps!)...

I.       Wake Me Up When September Ends

Half a year later, and GLOW/BRO camp still lives! One of my favorite campers had been reminding me to visit her community for a while, and I wanted to! But life happens, so instead, I invited her to mine :) She's a Gonja by tribe, so I thought it would be cool to show her a little taste of how we live it up in the heart of Dagomba land. Her stay was short but sweet. She wanted to continue living a slice of my siliminga (foreigner) lifestyle, but she couldn't bear to be apart from her mother for too long. Her siblings don't help their mother out at the market. Honest, my few days with Gifty were some of the most rewarding and intense bonding moments I've had as a mentor. Spending time with her illuminated a fact of Ghanaian life that I already knew but never fully internalized until Gifty shared with me the hardships of her life—that children in Ghana are forced to deal with the burden of adulthood far too early. We cried, we laughed, we watched a lot of movies and played a lot of checkers... Youth camps may be a finite venture in the Peace Corps realm of projects, but I say participate if you can. Or, just work with youth through volunteership or something. If not for GLOW/BRO I wouldn't have met some of the most intelligent, self-motivated, and hopeful young people in Ghana.

Casa de Deeshini was lit in September! Thankfully not literally. The end of the month marked the Fire Festival, a traditional Dagomba celebration. The story goes something like this:

A long, long time ago a Dagomba prince went missing. His father—the Chief—and the community members scoured the land for him. At the edge of the community they found him asleep in a tree. They concluded that the tree was evil for stealing their prince from them. They rescued him, and to punish the tree, they threw flaming torches at it. And every year following the prince's abduction, they would set a tree on fire with flaming torches to commemorate the return of the prince and to penalize the tree.

I wasn't able to go last year because I was at OpSmile in Tamale, so I knew I HAD to go to the one in my community this year or else I would forever regret it. And y'all... IT. WAS. LIT. ...LITERALLY!! I have never seen nor experienced so much energy in my community. Hell, I have never seen so many people out and about in my community. There was so much food and drumming and singing, and people were so, so kind. We made torches; we gave torches away; people gave us torches... I loved it. Every single minute of it. I got such a high from the cumulative energy of the whole experience. I invited a few PCV's to come and join in on the festivities where my community lit not one, but THREE trees on fire. We were conked after Tree #2 and headed back to decompress and catch some Z's, but I have never danced, screamed, yelled, sang, and ran with such intensity or felt such ecstasy as I have at Fire Fest. I truly felt beloved and accepted by my community at that moment, and I will forever hold onto those feels when PC life isn't looking so bright.

  II.    It's Scorpio Season, Bitches

October was so intense that I was barely in my community. I had a lot of workshop prep going on that took me out of site (more on that below). It was also my birthday month, the race in Accra, and Halloween (one of my Top 5 favorite holidays of all time)!

It was a little embarrassing this year. I forgot how old I was. I did the math and thought I lost a year of my life, culminating in one of the most pitiful weeks in the history of my existence (sorry, PCV friends who had to deal with my woes and existential crisis), but then I realized I did the math wrong and felt young and relieved (who needs to swim in a tub of virgin blood to retain your youth when you can just buy a calculator?)! Woo-hoo! But then it made me think... is my shitty memory due to the antimalarial pills or am I just truly deplorable in simple arithmetic? The jury is still out.

I celebrated my most recent revolution around the sun with my long-lost twin... who just happens to be from the other side of United States of America (South Carolina, holla at yer guuurl). Something was amiss when I found out that Allie and I both had an unhealthy obsession with costume/ period dramas, chiefly of the British persuasion. And then she told me she used to be a museum docent (!! One of my dream jobs!! Up there with bartender). And when I I found out we had the same birthday... OH LAWD.

It all made sense. We are basically the same person. Once our mutual love for Antiques Roadshow was uncovered, it was basically like the universe was fucking around. What else was there for us to do? Throw a joint costume birthday party, duh.

October 23rd, dudes. I made acquaintances write it on their calendar, and I'm not even ashamed.

But we celebrated the day before because, y'know, the weekend.

She dressed up as Squints from The Sandlot (ugh, a classic!). I dressed up as a deadbeat-nik. Yeah, YEEEAH. Y'all aren't the only ones who didn't think it was punny/ funny. It's fine though. I chuckled to myself. It also gave me the opportunity to finally, after a year and a half, wear that beret that I got in Accra. KG had proclaimed time and again, “Di, I don't know why you bought that fucking beret. It's a million degrees outside. YOU'LL NEVER WEAR IT.”

I whatsapped her a photo of me in the beret.

It was super fun. Friends came and dressed up, even though some of them hate costume parties, DIY costume parties even more so. I had a grand ol' time, and I thank the folks who made it out and those who wished me a HBD.

A couple days after my superspecialawesome day was the regional Tamale Spelling Bee. My homegirl Sarah is involved with the organization/ event, having volunteered last year. It seemed like such a cool opportunity that I asked and received permission to help out too. I'm not well-versed in the logistics, but the brightest of the bunch in Tamale will travel down to Accra to participate in the national spelling bee. Ghana is the only country in West Africa that participates in the International Spelling Bee held by Scripps. The winner of the national spelling bee gets to go to America to participate in the Scripps competition. They also receive a cash prize (thousands of Cedis, dude), material gifts, and a trip to South Africa or something. Their teacher gets to accompany them too, so it's not just the student benefiting. It's such a cool opportunity, and I'm sad to say that the students (Primary 6 to JHS 2 are eligible) in the north do not have as great an advantage as those in the more southern regions, especially those from Greater Accra or Tema with their ipads and better, more consistent education. But to see the Northern students try their hardest made my heart swell. These students were so bright that some stiff competition will not diminish their shine!!

There were two parts to the regional contest. A written comprehension portion and a verbal spelling portion. The combined scores determined who was going to go to Accra. At the end of the verbal spelling portion, after students had been spelling for over two hours, many remained, but only five students were supposed to be selected. The spellers were exhausted, and somehow the MC of the event asked her boss, the event organizer, if he would allow to send the remaining six spellers to Accra. In a moment of unexplained virtue, he was convinced (sucks for that seventh student that was eliminated...), and the crowd erupted into cheers and whoops and whistles. Just pure happiness, y'all.

 After the Bee, the Accra International Marathon happened. I participated. I didn't die. #praisebe #underhiseye

It was awesome to see so many expats, Ghanians, children, and students participating in the race. I even ran into (not literally, thank jah!) a colleague from an NGO in the North at the 10K starting point! Pardon my smugness, but I wasn't last! In the scheme of life, it doesn't matter as much as the fact that I finished! WOO-HOO!! It was such a thrill. And I felt overwhelmed with joy when I heard the friendly cheers calling out my name near the finish line. These voices were familiar... these voices could only come from loud PCV's who DGAF!! It was bliss to see my friends there. The best thing to come out of training and completing the race was my new found appreciation for running. I have said in the past that I hate running. I often scream it at the top of my lungs when people ask me my views on the very subject, “I. HAAATE. RUNNINGGG!!”

I hate it less now. Part of it may be my assumption that “running” meant going hard, 100% of the time. I'm more lax about it. I walk a little here and there, and I always listen to a good podcast while I'm out completing a run. Take home story: if I can be converted to the Church of Somehow-Running, you can be too. Even though it often appears so, it's not some sort of cult. It just feels nice after you finish (It's those goddamn endorphins). I even kinda feel like a lump if I skip running for too many days. I'm hoping to one day train towards a half marathon and then, maybe, a full marathon, kindasortanotreallyidunno.

Whenever I'm in Accra, which is seldom, I try to couple my visit with a medical purpose because all medical distins are taken care of there. Sucks for folks in the Northern and Upper regions. I went to the dentist for some tooth pain that had been recurring for months. The PC Medical Officer had been telling me that we should “wait and see” about the pain for the past half-year. Whelp, I got it sort of checked out. It's a cavity, underneath a filling of an older cavity... probably. They weren't 100% certain since their x-ray machine was broken and they couldn't fix it before I left for the north. Dang-diddily-nabbit. Add that to my diminishing hearing abilities (to be checked out next time I'm in the country capital as well) and frequent questionable moles (sunscreen is moot when you sweat it all off), and I tell ya what—Ghana, maybe, has a vendetta against me.

  III. I'm An Unauthorized Authority Because I Have a Degree In This

I was chosen to be a trainer for the 2017 Nutrition IST (In Service Training). YASSSS. YAAASSSSS. Started as a participant, now I'm here!

It was a lot of work and planning, and my team was fabulous. The star qualities of this IST compared to the other IST's offered in country are that a female counterpart is required, that female CP's can bring their child, and that there are translators available, so English comprehension/ a formal education is not a requirement. The latter two solutions are imperative in overcoming many of the barriers that prevent women (the primary caretakers and often the MVP when it comes to nutrition in the household) from going to Peace Corps Ghana trainings. I am so proud that the Nutrition IST was so inclusive and mindful of the mamas.  It's empowering to the women that participate, and it's encouraging as trainers and as PCV's to witness their growth and excitement.

I have to give plenty of kudos to the Moringa Man and the Health PCVLT (Peace Corps Volunteer Leader-Trainer ?? I don't know. Too many letters in this acronym) for arranging curriculum that is interactive and varied to meet the needs of our audience.

The Ghanaian diet is mostly carbs and fats because it's cheaper to, say, pound a cash crop like maize into a ball and eat it with groundnut stew, a soup made of a lot of oil (more fat means more calories AND it helps preserve the stew) and another accessible crop, than to buy fresh fruits and vegetables. Poverty already affects access to vegetables and meat. The dry season—a time when food is scarce and can be more costly to families whose plush harvest money has already been spent—makes good nutrition even harder. Knowing that food security is an issue, we did our best to come up with applicable alternatives that Ghanaians can explore, highlighting the nutritional benefits of staple crops but emphasizing the addition of others that are available in the market.

We put the men to work in the kitchen!

We did a LOT of cooking demos, often with fortified recipes for existing Ghanaian meals. We discussed the benefits of breastfeeding, certain micro-nutrients during pregnancy, the correlation between food safety/hygiene and malnutrition caused by frequent diarrhea, and so much more. Because the crops and the culture of the northern regions of Ghana are vastly different from the southern regions, we had two separate workshops.

The best surprise is hearing updates from PCV's who attended and their stories about their empowered CP's holding space to talk about nutrition in their communities. Moments like these remind me of the reasons why I'm here and why I choose to stay. I have a lot more thoughts on the Nutrition IST that I'd like to spotlight in a post apart, just because there are so many facets to it. Look forward to it soon, hopefully haha

  It's November now, so I can stop listening to Christmas music in the privacy of my own room and start singing “Santa Baby” off-key in public. More updated posts coming somehow-soon (read: as soon as I finish my session plans for future nutrition IST’s, eek!)