#and this class is supposed to be just over 2 hrs long

[bread-of-death]

2nd day of college classes.

My prof. Called me 'Mr. [last name]' when doing attendance

My first name is very clearly feminine

He's pretty old, at least like,, late 60's, early 70's, probably doesn't have the best eyesight- my hair was up, probably looked more masculine than normal, especially over Zoom

I do not know how to feel about this lol

[finn-m-corvex]

Lightning in a Cubicle Pt. 1

Did I expect to see my silly little post about Jay being another boring office drone take off? Absolutely not. Hell no I didn't. But here we are and everywhere I look there's office Jay taking over the community person by person and I have no idea what I've done. So, what better way to celebrate my newfound stardom than to do what I do best and write?

Between my drawing today and suffering in pain (I've had twelve ibuprofen today, YIKES) I have put together this little thing. Who am I kidding? Nothing I write is little.

This is Part 1, don't know when Part 2 is coming out, but I hope everyone enjoys nonetheless! P.s. lemme know if anyone wants to be on a taglist for Pt. 2.

"Thank you for reaching out about this issue, Charlie. I will get back to you in two to three business days..." Jay was muttering to himself, carefully clicking each key as he responded to the email. He did not want a repeat of the incident where he typed 'fuck' instead of 'duck' to his supervisor. HR had hounded him for two weeks, forcing him to take classes on workplace etiquette and sensitivity lessons.

Jay hated their HR department.

After he finished the email, he made sure to include his signature and click send, reloading the page and checking to see if it actually sent instead of being banished to his drafts. It had happened to many times already. He smiled at the sight of his finally cleared inbox, happily ignoring the forms that he still needed to fill out and all of the paperwork he had to file.

God, how was it only Monday?

For the first time that day, Jay finally had some downtime (as long as he ignored all of his responsibilities). He grabbed up his cup of pens, intending on linking them all together with paperclips to "ropen" and close his cubicle door. He snickered at his own joke; damn, he cracked himself up sometimes.

Calling it a door was quite generous, honestly. It was really more a spare cubicle wall he had stolen from his coworker Judy after she had gone upstairs for the day. The old hag didn't even realize that it was missing the next morning, only seeing that she now had a view right into her best friend Janet's office. Jay had haggled for some hinges from his buddy in the maintenance department, nailing them to his wall and attaching the stolen one.

He had just found his groove in making the rope when a shrill shriek echoed through the office. "WALKER!"

Jay jumped with a small gasp, panicking when a couple strands of his lightning leaked out. He was quick to get it back under control with his breathing, and he was filled with dread when he realized who had called his name.

Shitty Sharon.

"Yeah, Sharon?" he called back, poking his head out from the top of his cubicle. Just as he thought, Sharon was standing in the doorway to their workroom, face red with anger and hands on her hips. All the other ladies were staring at him as he made the walk of shame to the workroom, and Jay felt humiliated under their questioning gazes.

Could he go one day without being summoned like he was a lapdog? One?!

"I thought you were supposed to fix the printer." Sharon said shortly, and Jay was wondering who the hell he had pissed off in the chain of command to be the only man on the women's side of the floor.

It took everything in him not to scream. "I did fix the printer, Sharon."

"Then why the hell won't it print?! I don't have the time for this," she growled.

Neither did he. He had ropes to make. "Did you make sure it had ink and paper? Like I told you last time?"

"Why should I have to do that? That's why you're here, office boy," she said snidely, and god it was too early for this.

He chose to be the bigger person and check the printer himself, and what do you know? It just needed more paper.

"I'll put the paper in for you," he said, because he was not getting bad karma for being a bitch back to Shitty Sharon. She had hella connections with the company, and she would not hesitate to make his life a living hell. The last time he talked back to her, his water had gotten turned off for a week. He had to haul some in from the communal bathrooms just so he could take a shower.

Grabbing a fresh package of paper, Jay opened it with ease, avoiding giving himself a cut as he placed it in the tray. Closing it, he pressed a couple buttons to make sure everything was working right, and then it took all of his willpower not to scream when he glanced at the tiny screen with all of the functions on it.

"Sharon," he said, in the sweetest tone he could conjure at the moment, "why are you printing a thousand copies of this report?!"

"The damn thing wouldn't work, so I just kept clicking print!"

"You're supposed to call the maintenance department!" Jay yelled, throwing his hands into the air. "Or I.T.! Or me! Not print a thousand copies of the same paper!"

"Whatever," she said flippantly, turning away and walking back to her nice spacious office that should've been Jay's. "Just be a 'dear' and take care of it for me."

He didn't want to take care of it. Muttering to himself, Jay smashed the small buttons on the printer with much more force than necessary, cancelling the excess orders but making sure to leave one still open. While he would've loved to cancel all of them to force Sharon to click print again and come get it herself, Jay knew from experience that she would print out a bunch of the shit anyway and dump it in his office.

Jay started humming, readjusting the tie around his neck to give his hands something to do. He relaxed, fully intent on going back to his cubicle to goof around some more until he caught a glace at the clock.

8:50.

He had a meeting in ten minutes.

"Fuck!" Jay yelled, sprinting out of the room and straight for his workspace. He snatched up his briefcase and jacket, nearly forgetting his keycard before spinning on his heel to grab them. There was something he was forgetting, he knew it, but he didn't have the time to wonder what it was.

Slipping his jacket on, Jay didn't bother to keep the door from slamming shut behind as he escaped the suffocating atmosphere of the accounting department. He ran down the hall, pushing past other disgruntled employees with a quick apology. The elevators on their side of the hall were broken; he was going to have to use the ones by Public Relations.

His ever-wondering mind thought about convincing the decorating department to get them some plants as he hurried past white wall after white wall, only sparsely brightened up by a portrait of the board of directors or some fancy-schmancy paintings that Jay couldn't appreciate. What was wrong with some good ol' greenery? Some flowers here, a little fern there, maybe they would even let him go crazy and get a bonsai tree!

You know, if he ever got an office with a window.

"G'morning Jay!" his favorite security guard said to him, and Jay barely had time to wave to the man before he passed. If he was lucky, he wouldn't have to wait very long for the car to arrive on his floor.

The Administration was a beast of a building; you could see it from practically anywhere in Ninjago. With an impressive two hundred and fifty-four floors, it was the first true skyscraper that Jay could ever remember seeing in his life. Or what he remembered from it, anyway.

One of the reasons it had to be so large was because the Administration also housed all of their employees and necessities. The last fifty floors were dedicated entirely to apartments for the workforce, and Jay's own apartment was on level 275. Thinking about that reminded him that he needed to stop by the supermarket on floor 168 before he went home for the day. He had run out of coffee grounds the day before, and heaven knows he couldn't go on without those.

Jay's bad luck continued to haunt him when he skidded to a stop in front of the elevators, and the closest one to floor 67 was the one on 154. Someone must've been visiting the indoor aquarium. Jay wanted to go to the aquarium.

He slammed his hand on the up button, watching as the numbers along the top slowly counted down. Checking his wrist-watch, Jay saw that he had seven minutes to get to the one hundredth floor; this was going to be tight, but as long as there weren't any delays he should be able to make it.

And of course, because he's him, there were delays.

"How many stops do you have to make"?!" he exclaimed, watching as the damned elevator paused for the seventh time. He didn't have the time for this!

Finally, finally, the elevator stopped on his floor, and Jay pushed past all of the people getting off. He swiped his keycard, ignoring the female voice saying "Welcome, Jay Walker," in favor of urgently typing his floor number into the elevator's keypad, and it shot up into the sky like a rocket.

Most of his coworkers had told him stories about how long it had taken them to adjust to the elevator's speed, but Jay had never had a problem with it. Part of him always wondered what he had done in his past life before he came to work for the Administration; there had to be a reason he didn't get motion sick, or how his reflexes were sharper than the blades in the shredder, or why he felt so uneasy whenever he saw someone swinging an object in his direction (like he was expecting an attack?).

There was also the lightning, of course, but no one knew that Jay had that. And no one could ever know. He didn't want to imagine the training that he would be forced to go through if the Administration ever found out about it.

If they didn't ship him off to Imperium first.

"Can this damn thing not go any faster?" Jay growled, tapping his foot against the floor in an aggressive beat. He was glad no one else was in the elevator with him.

Up and up he went, the numbers growing higher and higher, blinking red. 97, 98, 99...

100! and he still had two minutes to spare!

Maybe Mr. Harding would give him that promotion after all!

The doors started opening and Jay was out before they could finish, making a beeline for the door at the other end of the blindingly white hallway. He could feel the sweat staining his light blue button-up, and Jay just had to hope and pray that his jacket covered it up well enough to get through this meeting without his eagle-eyed boss noticing anything.

He knocked on the door, checking his watch and seeing that he had officially made it at 8:59. One minute left.

Jay slapped his corporate smile on his face when Mr. Harding opened the door, making sure to hold out the correct hand. His left, because Mr. Harding was left-handed and had a stronger grip; Mr. Harding also loved having the upper hand. "So good to see you, sir! I hope you're well."

"Mr. Walker," Mr. Harding said casually, but Jay could already tell that his boss was in a bad mood. Shit. "I believe I told you that I wanted you here at 8."

"Pardon?" that definitely was not what the email had said.

"I sent an email to you around 7:30 that I wanted you in at 8." Mr. Harding said slowly, and Jay quickly pushed down the ire that rose at the childish treatment.

Wait, 7:30? He had staff meetings from 7-8 on Mondays!

"B-but that's when I have my staff meetings," Jay explained, holding back from messing with the cuffs of his sleeves. Mr. Harding hadn't taken too kindly to his fidgeting the last time he had been in here. "I'm not allowed to check my phone during staff meetings."

"I expect you to read all of my emails, Mr. Walker," the man said firmly, his lips curling into a distasteful sneer. "You're lucky that I happen to be free at the moment. Now, would you like to step in, or do you want to wait another hour?"

Jay grit his teeth, swallowing his anger and shoving it down deep inside. "Yes sir, sorry sir."

This damn promotion better be worth every moment of this nonsense, or Jay was tearing the Administration down himself.

[thumperdaetime]

Hey!!! I Know a Thing that does actually actually get votes up that isn't voting outright! if you have the time and access, consider looking into Working your local election site!

my grandmother has been making above minimum wage in New York (state) several days out of every year since the 80's (did you know that on an '''election year''' there are about 7 elections you can vote in if you live as a citizen in the U S of A?)

In New York (state) its just a matter of figuring out where they have the classes to get you introduced to the process. i knew someone, but after they clued me in i was able to find the info on my state election website. and i bet i could have called a office if my state didnt have a decent webbed-site.

i took the class to help run the polling place, this year. the one i took was from 5-8pm. no previous sign up or experience needed. i had to be a citizen, and they had me bring my social security card as proof.

i did have to officially register as "one of the two leading political parties" per the election rules. [apparently the way they keep things 'fair' is by teaming up people into groups of 2 one from each of the two main parties. that way one cant blame the other for switching ballots or falsifying documents].

When i asked about accessibility for things like not hearing names correctly, or not being able to stand for long. i was given the line: "We have Jobs for Everyone" which seemed rehearsed, but when pushed i took to mean '''''''if you cant do one task there are other tasks to do, that probably suit you better."'''' but im still not thrilled with the answer. that being said i was the second youngest person there and the work load seems more mentally taxing than physically so. I know for a fact they have both sitting and standing jobs. there was talk about people getting switched out of check-in duty periodically to keep from getting mentally fatigued and making mistakes. so i feel hopeful about it being pretty flexible with people needing rest at the very least.

im supposed to get paid for the class (they had me bring banking information) and the 5am-9pm shift i do in November will pay more than my actual job does in one day. (the protocol says machines/tablets have to be opened and closed by the same people at the beginning and end of the day) there were shorter half day options (it think switching out around noon?). and when someone brought up scheduling issues, the instructor ensured that the organizers would be desperate enough this election to work around people's schedules.

anyway it was relatively easy to get set up. it took 4 hrs out of my day last week, and now im set to make over 200 on November 5th and guaranteed to not be doom scrolling and disaster speculating, because No Ones Aloud to talk about politics at election sites!!! i will be greeting my neighbors politely as if they were also humans who wanted to make a difference in their community- and drinking federally funded local coffee in a temperature controlled gymnasium. and i invite anyone who has the stomach for that sort of thing to come join me!

Register. Check your registration. Help others register. Vote early if you want. Vote by mail if you want. Vote on Nov 5 if you want.

Stay engaged. We can do this!

We are not going back.

[nardonotes]

24 sep '24

8:52pm

hello my mankeys... (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) i am so tired and my body is sore..... i didn't make an entry yesterday but i literally can't even rmbr what happened.. "( – ⌓ – ) like did i write one yesterday or no? me forgot huhuhu.. what did i even do yesterday bruh,, i can't rmbr. i got a bad case of ifuckingforgotinitis *facepalm* OH I RMBR! LOL i was 1. late for class and 2. had a 3hr long break in between and took a nap at home AND KNOCKED OUT!!!! I WOKE UP EXACTLY ON TIME FOR CLASS. it was like my body said BITCH WAKE UP U GOT CLASS......!! and then i RAN TO CLASS (which was literally pointless because i had done everything for that class on the weekend so i just sat there helping everyone. they need to pay me)

BUT ANYWAYS, enough of yesterday- let's talk about today! lord did i have fucking day!! (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) first of all, LATE FOR CLASS AGAIN. and i remember waking up like 20 minutes before class and emailing my prof like "i will be late" literally lied out of my fucking ass... hehe. and then i went back to sleep for a little bit then BOOM. it's been two hours and class is almost over -_-/ u know what? idgaf. i really don't gaf, it's not a national holiday. ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) it's fine cause im not super behind in that class anyways. but yeah,, and then right after class- i took a train to the nearest city (45 mins train ride) to meet my friend, yall know the friend i talked about a few entries ago, TO TALK ABOUT TEA!!!! but then they invited like three of their friends.... awko taco moment. but it's ok cause they're cool and we still got to talk about the situation that occurred. i would've still wanted to just talk to them though. also i was supposed to stay till 6pm but they were talking about unrelated things for so long,, and i was so tired my head hurt- so i left 2 hrs early!!

( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`)

anyways, the second i got home i literally took a shower and did some work because FUCK!!!!!!! I AM SO FUCKING DRAINED AND MY BODY ALWAYS HURTS NOW AND I BEEN HAVING STOMACH ISSUES LIKE I WANNA SHIT ALL THE TIME BUT I HAVE NO APPETITE WHO VOODOOED ME??? the voodoo in question being my body not used to going out 5-6 days a week in a row. ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

ok last thing before i end this, i redownloaded instagram for chismosa purposes (i have insane chismosa virus) and had to get in the gc.. but while i was in the dms i noticed this girl i had been talking to for literally like i think months ( i aired her when i started college sorry!) (ó﹏ò｡) had dmd me asking how i been 3 days ago. and i feel bad cause it's like damn... u want me this bad or u just bored? like should i just give her my number and start texting her again? BUT THEN IT WOULD BE A SITUATIONSHIP AND LIKE I LOWKEY DONT WANT THAT.... but she is pretty. also far away still (everyone is far from me) but she's also giving yellow fever oo- anyways,, the attention is nice. idk what to do. ૮ – ﻌ–ა

ANYWAYS I YAPPED TOO MUCH AGAIN! idgaf. goodnight to pretty girls only and me <33

song of the day; Nothing Else Matters by Little Mix !! ♪♫~

[pepprs]

today and tomorrow are gonna be the purest hell like genuinely and idk how im gonna survive them but i have to

[jungshookz]

kiss me at midnight; myg

➺ pairing; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; ceo!y/n x secretary!yoongiverse!! sfw!! fluff!! the title says it all!! this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for!! 

➺ wordcount; 8.1k

➺ summary; y/n finally musters up enough courage to tell yoongi about her i-know-i’m-your-boss-but-i-have-non-boss-feelings-for-you feelings. 

➺ what to expect; “careful, secretary min… i might have to give you a raise if you keep sweet-talking me like that.”

                                      »»————-　♡　————-««

“let’s see… the decorators are coming at 2, the caterers are coming at 6:30, the DJ is coming at 7…” yoongi reads out loud as he goes down his checklist, “the bartender sent over the special drinks menu which i emailed to you this morning, and- ah, right, the caterers mentioned that they were able to switch the mini hot dogs to sliders instead-”

“oh, that’s great! mini hot dogs just don’t carry the same level of class as teeny little hamburgers…” you narrow your eyes slightly as you clasp your hands in front of your face, tapping your fingers against each other, “what about the chocolate lava cakes?”

“mhm, don’t worry, those are on the menu as well, as per your request,” yoongi pauses, “ah- the people bringing the photo-booths are coming to set them up at 5 - we’ve already cleared out the space for them, so that should be good to go… also, are we putting a limit on photos?”

“a limit?”

“yes, a limit,” yoongi looks up at you and shrugs, “there’s only so much film and it wouldn’t be fair for one person to take ten photos and for another person to not have any at all.”

you immediately scoff before dismissing yoongi with a flick of your wrist, “silly yoongi, you can’t put a limit on fun. just tell them we’re willing to pay for extra film and for one of their workers to hang out at the party and wait until the booths need refilling.”

“there.. is no limit… on fun…” yoongi mutters to himself as he continues to scribble notes down in his notebook, “and… that’s it!” he clicks his pen before tucking it back into his shirt pocket, “pretty much everything has been taken care of. if all goes well, this’ll be a fantastic new year’s eve party.”

“yay!” you throw your hands up into the air before leaning back against your chair with a giggle, “this is so exciting. i love throwing parties!”

“and i love planning parties...” yoongi hums absentmindedly, looking back down at his list, “so i guess we make a pretty good team...”

“teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

“mm.” 

a couple seconds of silence ticks by as you scour through your brain for a new topic of discussion

you could... talk about the weather? 

or maybe ask him what he did over the weekend?

ask him about what he did on christmas day?? 

“so…” you clear your throat, smoothing your skirt down before folding your arms on your desk and leaning forward slightly, “you bringin’ any... hot dates to the party tonight?” 

wow

that was... not an ideal topic of discussion 

also, way to sound like a creep! 

“me?” yoongi glances up at you and tilts his head slightly, “well, i’ll be with you.” he pauses, dark brows knitting together, “did you… want me to bring a date?” he shifts in his seat, “i’m sure i can arrange for someone to accompany me if that’s what you want.”

“no!” your eyes widen and you shake your head quickly, “i mean- no, i was just- you know, i just- usually you have a plus-one that you bring to parties and, like, i’m sure that you probably had other new year’s plans that didn’t involve being at the party your boss is throwing- i’m just saying that perhaps, if you were planning on actually bringing someone, i just wouldn’t want to be a cock-block-” 

you’re cut off (thankfully) when yoongi’s phone suddenly starts to buzz on your desk

he extends his arm and catches it right as it’s about to fall off (which, admittedly, shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, but yoongi could be sitting there doing nothing and you’d still find it attractive) 

he holds a finger up pardon himself and you nod before leaning back a little

“hello? …oh, perfect. yes, i can come and pick them up now…” yoongi trails off, sandwiching his phone in between his ear and his shoulder before pushing his sleeve up a little to check the time on his watch, “i can be there in… roughly half an hour? yes. alright. perfect. see you soon.”

he hangs up with a beep before looking back over at you, “sorry about that! your dress and heels are ready for pick-up. what were you saying before my phone went off?”

“hm?” you clear your throat, “oh! uh… nothing. i was just- you know, small talk. but you can go now if you want to- i mean, obviously you need to go and pick up my outfit for tonight so i’ll just let you go-”

“alright, perfect-” yoongi nods and gets up from his seat, “i shouldn’t take too long but if anything comes up, just call me-” 

“yep! you got it, homie-” you shoot finger guns at yoongi before quickly forcing your arms down and shoving both your hands in between your knees so that they won’t do anything like that again 

your face flushes bright red as soon as the door shuts behind yoongi and a quiet groan slips past your lips before you smack your forehead down on your desk 

jesus

that... was rough, to say the least! 

sure, you fumble over your words whenever you talk to yoongi on a regular basis, but it’s never usually this bad... 

what’s gotten into you today?!

maybe it’s just the pre-party jitters! 

“get it together, y/l/n.” you mutter to yourself, patting your cheeks lightly before pulling your laptop towards you and opening it up 

if there’s anyone who can get you get your shit together, it’s hoseok

Y/N Y/L/N (10:12AM): help me

you perk up when hoseok responds almost immediately, your laptop letting out a little ping! from his message

you have half a mind to scold him for not doing work and being on the company’s messaging system but you dO need to talk to him right now so 

Jung Hoseok (10:12AM): What did you do this time

Y/N Y/L/N (10:12AM): nothing!! idk what’s wrong with my mouth today i’ve never called anyone homie in my entire life 

Jung Hoseok (10:13AM): ?

Y/N Y/L/N (10:13AM): you had to be here to understand :-//

Jung Hoseok (10:13AM): Okay well

Jung Hoseok (10:13AM): I don’t know what I’m supposed to say now

Y/N Y/L/N (10:13AM): can you just come to my office because it’s too much to type out

Y/N Y/L/N (10:13AM): and bring me an iced coffee from the vending machine while you’re at it because yoongi left to pick my dress up

Jung Hoseok (10:14AM): Let me get this straight

Jung Hoseok (10:14AM): You want me to stop working and you want me to go to your office so we can gossip about Yoongi

Y/N Y/L/N (10:14AM): gossip sounds bad

Y/N Y/L/N (10:14AM): ‘discuss’ sounds more professional

Jung Hoseok (10:14AM): …

Jung Hoseok (10:15AM): See you in ten minutes lmao

                                     »»————-　♡　————-««

“you asked him if he was planning on bringing a date to the party?!” hoseok laughs, leaning back against the chair before folding his arms over his chest and shaking his head, “wow. what, are you going to help him plan his wedding too?”

“don’t say that!” you groan, rubbing your fingers against your temples in tight circles, “i was just trying to start a conversation… i don’t know...”

“start a conversation? about what? about encouraging yoongi to be with someone who isn’t you?” 

“keep up the attitude and i’ll reduce your lunch break from one hour and fifteen minutes to one hour and fourteen minutes.” you raise a brow in warning, hoseok gawking before wagging a finger at you 

“i’ll report you to HR for abuse of power!” he jokes, his smile faltering when he notices that you still have that mopey, kicked-in-the-gut look on your face, “okay, think about it this way: this party couldn’t have come at a better time, you know? because now you know exactly what you have to do!” 

“huh? oh, right.” you nod slowly, “yeah, of course i know what i have to do at tonight’s party.” you snort, pulling away from your desk and sitting up straight, “but... you know, just to make sure that you know what it is that i have to do, would you mind telling me what exactly we’re saying i have to do?”

“y/n. come on.” hoseok presses his lips together before leaning forward, “what do people usually do at new year’s eve parties?” he asks gently, in that infuriatingly condescending tone that people usually use when they’re talking to children

“people share their new year’s resolutions with each other?” you hum, thinking back to the new year’s eve party you were at last year where you ended up talking to a very friendly bartender about all the plans you had in mind for the new year 

hm

you can’t help but wonder how he’s doing 

“well, yeah, but not quite what i had in mind-” hoseok shakes his head, “what else do they do?”

“they... sing karaoke really loudly?” you frown before letting out a gasp, “oh no! i didn’t think of that! do you think it’s too late to rent a karaoke machi-”   

“wow, i really have to spoon-feed this to you-” hoseok slaps his hands against his thighs before letting out a huff, “a new year’s kiss, y/n. does that ring any bells?”

“oh, right! i forgot about that part,” you chuckle lightly, tilting your head back against the top of your chair to look up at the ceiling, “but what does that have to do with-” you pause, head snapping back down to look at hoseok with wide eyes, “oh, you’re saying that i should- with yoongi- hoseok, i can barely look at yoongi for five seconds without breaking eye contact-” 

“why not?! its new years! you have to have someone to smooch when it’s midnight. even i have someone to kiss!”

“wait, who are you kiss-” 

“and you know what the best part is?” hoseok grins, “you have an excuse to get super drunk tonight! and a drunk y/n is a slightly more confident y/n-”

“oh, i can’t- i can’t ask him, no.” you chuckle nervously, your hands suddenly feeling a little clammy at the thought of asking yoongi to kiss you, “because then he’s going to feel like he has to kiss me because i’m his boss, and the next thing you know, i’m being called up to HR-” 

“you’re overthinking this again, y/n,” hoseok sighs, “don’t forget the fact that i caught him checking you out at the halloween party. you have to admit that he’s slightly interested in you.”

“that’s different!” you argue, your brows furrowing, “i was dressed as a sexy friggin’ bunny, for god’s sake!”

“and tonight, you’ll be dressed as a sexy friggin’ boss! the only difference is that you won’t have a little cotton tail and two bunny ears-”

“i don’t know…”

hoseok rolls his eyes at your doubt and resists the urge to get up and slap you across the face to get you to come to your senses

you can’t expect anything to happen between you and yoongi if you’re not willing to do something about it in the first place

he can’t even list out how many times you guys have had similar conversations that always end in you chickening out and changing your mind

you were supposed to make a move at the halloween party but you ended up bailing on the plan at the last minute and hoseok had to listen to half an hour of you whining about it over the phone 

he adores you but sometimes he just wants to grab you and yell at you for being such a wimp when it comes to yoongi 

“okay, you know what? forget yoongi. i’ll be your new year’s kiss!” hoseok teases, leaning forward before wiggling his eyebrows enticingly, “maybe if people see me canoodling with the boss i’ll finally get the street cred i deserve-”

“you know, i don’t know if i’ve reached that level of desperation quite yet-”

“i’m a great kisser, so it’s your loss...” hoseok kisses his teeth, raising his hands in defense, “anyways, just try not to overthink it. take a deep breath, relax, and hopefully you won’t point any more lame finger guns at yoo-”

“-ooou’re fired!” you stand up and slam your fist down on the desk the moment yoongi steps into the room, hoseok jolting at the sudden announcement, “you are fired, my good sir! you heard me loud and clear!” 

yoongi’s eyes widen slightly and he presses his lips together before stepping aside and lowering his head  

“what the hell are yo-” hoseok glances over his shoulder and it dawns over him when he spots yoongi standing by the door, “oh! oh. uh, okay. yes... i am... devastated...” he clears his throat as he rises from the chair slowly, “please... give me a second chance? i... won’t do it again?” 

you blink, pulling down your blazer slightly before giving him a curt nod

“...okay, but this is your last chance. next time, you’re really fired.” you clear your throat, sitting back down before gesturing towards the door, “you may leave now, mr. jung.” 

yoongi nods in acknowledgement when hoseok walks past him and he waits a couple of seconds before speaking up 

“sorry. i didn’t realize you were busy because the door wasn’t closed all the way.” he smiles sheepishly, raising the garment bag in his hand, “i just wanted to put your dress in the closet for you.” 

“yes! go ahead.” you smile, gesturing towards the closet before sitting back down in your chair 

“by the way, i passed by that breakfast place on the way to the laundromat-” yoongi pauses, glancing over at you on his way to the closet, “you know, the place that makes those BLT bagels you like so much?” 

“ooh, with the spicy mayo and the avocado?”

“mhm-” yoongi smiles, shutting the closet door gently and turning to face you, “they do chocolate chip waffles now and i thought maybe that’d be something you’d be interested in for future breakfasts.” 

“oh, no way!” your eyes widen in excitement, “i’m very interested in chocolate chip waffles for future breakfasts!”

“that’s what i thought.” he chuckles, making his way back towards the doors, “anyway- i’ll be out there if you need me, boss.” 

“mhm!” 

you immediately get up from your chair as soon as yoongi leaves the room 

you told yourself that you were going to wait until tonight but you’ve been thinking about your dress all week and you wanna see it now!! 

“dress, dress, dress-” you murmur to yourself like a maniac, your heels clicking against the floor as you jog over to the closet 

you push down a squeal of excitement after unzipping the garment bag and getting a good look at your outfit for tonight

you spent hours searching for the perfect dress and it was totally worth it now that you’re looking at it  

it’s a navy blue midi-length dress that sort of cinches in at the waist but the skirt itself is relaxed so you don’t need to worry about your legs being constricted 

there’s also a high slit in the skirt which is exciting (you had to shave your legs yesterday which wasn’t as exciting) 

and it’s a long sleeve dress but the sleeves and sheer and billowy but cap around your wrists 

it’s classy but also a little sexy but not like your halloween playboy costume level of sexy

you’re still not sure what possessed you to dress up as a playboy bunny but even you have to admit that that little black dress looked great on you��

you zip the bag back up before pushing it aside to sneak a peek at the suit that yoongi will be wearing to the party 

he asked if he could keep his suit in your closet and obviously you said yes because it’s yoongi 

your eyes light up when you notice something peculiar about his outfit 

it’s navy blue as well!! 

the corners of your mouth lift in a wide grin, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of you and yoongi (unintentionally, but still) wearing matching colours tonight 

heh 

                                    »»————-　♡　————-««

“c’mon, stupid thing...” yoongi frowns to himself as he struggles to tie his tie

he’s been at it for the last ten minutes and it seems like his gummy worm fingers aren’t going to be useful anytime soon 

and it probably doesn’t help that he’s using his phone camera as a mirror instead of going to the bathroom to use the actual mirror

he doesn’t know if it showed this morning but he’s been a nervous wreck all day! 

he practically zipped out of your office as soon as he had the chance to and he just hopes that you’re not suspecting anything 

it’s just that as each day goes by, he gets more and more conflicted over what to do about his feelings for you 

this wasn’t supposed to happen!

when he first realized that you liked him, he was flattered and admittedly it was a nice stroke to his ego knowing that his boss was interested in him, but he didn’t know it’d turn into this 

he didn’t know he’d end up liking you back 

this is a disaster! 

he’s not supposed to like you back!

he already tried forcing himself to stop liking you but if anything it’s made things worse

he thought your schoolgirl crush was sweet at first and then one day he found your poor excuse of asking him to stay after hours to help you re-organize your pens was cute and ever since then it’s gone downhill 

like the other day when he was eating lunch with you - you took the paper sleeve that holds the chopsticks and you folded it into a makeshift chopstick rest and gave it to him to use and,,. he’d have to be crazy to not find that wildly endearing

yoongi lets out a huff and leans back against his chair as he looks at himself on his phone screen 

“good going, moron.” he grumbles to himself before lifting his hand and flipping himself off, “you and your feelings.”

of course, it’s not technically a... bad thing that he likes you back, right? 

...but what’s everyone going to think?

he knows that he’s on the list of people getting the christmas bonus (because he helped you type it out) but what if people think he just slept his way to the money?? 

oh, god

that’s not who he is!

this is too much to think about right now 

he just had this suit pressed and he’s not about to ruin it by nervously sweating in it 

he’s just going to enjoy this party with you and then deal with his feelings later!  

future yoongi can handle it

present yoongi is just going to enjoy the ride B-) 

“whatcha up to?” 

“-!” yoongi jumps and scrambles up from his seat when he hears your voice all of a sudden, “y/n! sorry, i didn’t hear you come out of... your... office...” he trails off, voice softening slightly as he takes in how beautiful you look in your dress 

obviously he already knew what you were going to wear because he was the one who picked up your outfit from the dry cleaner’s but... it’s a different experience actually seeing you in it 

beautiful 

there’s really no other way to describe it

you look... beautiful. 

“i don’t know why on earth you’re wearing a tie to a party.” you snort, eyes flicking down to the tie hanging loosely around his neck, “this isn’t a business meeting, yoongi.” (you decided it’d be best to take hoseok’s advice. no overthinking - just relaxing! and it seems to be going well...) 

“oh.” yoongi snaps himself out of his daze before shaking his head, “i… i don’t know why, either. i guess i’m just used to wearing a tie.”

“well, i say ditch it - you know, let loose a little! it’s new year’s eve, after all.” 

before yoongi even knows it, you’re stepping towards him and sliding the tie from his neck in one swift movement before tossing it onto his desk

ᵒ ᵍᵒᵈ

you even smell pretty 

he freezes when you reach up to undo a couple of buttons on his shirt, his hands gripping the edge of his desk so tightly that his knuckles are stark white 

“there we go!” you smile, fixing yoongi’s collar before nodding to yourself, “much better. also, do you think you can help me with my heels? i put them on already but the little buckles are flimsy and i can’t do them because of my nails.” you raise both your hands before wiggling your fingers 

“mhm, of course.” yoongi steps aside and gestures towards his chair, “take a seat and i’ll take care of them for you.”

yoongi’s chair squeaks slightly as you sit down on it and you make a mental note to get him a new one 

...maybe you should get everyone in the office new chairs to make your crush on yoongi less obvious

hm

lots to think about

“so, do you think anyone’s going to have fun tonight?” you ask quietly, leaning back against the chair, “i’m nervous.” 

“i’m sure everyone’s going to have fun, y/n,” yoongi lowers himself onto the ground so that he’s down on one knee before raising your leg so that your foot is pressed against his chest, “they get free food, free alcohol, and there are fun 2021 party hats and stupid 2021 glasses to match. what’s not to love?”

“me. i’m the part they don’t love.” you snort, propping your elbow up on yoongi’s desk before leaning against your fist, “i’m gonna take one step onto the rooftop and immediately ruin the party somehow. i bet the dj will stop playing music and his records will make that awkward scratchy sound.”

“don’t be so harsh on yourself…” yoongi scolds, tucking the thin strap into the buckle and giving it a little tug to make sure it’s nice and secure before lowering your foot gently, “besides, if anyone looks at you weirdly, i can just call security and have them escorted out of the party.” he tuts, smiling up at you as he lifts your other foot 

“ooh. careful, secretary min… i might have to give you a raise if you keep sweet-talking me like that.” you joke, pushing the ball of your foot gently against yoongi’s chest teasingly

“oh, yeah? i wouldn’t be opposed to that, boss…” the corner of yoongi’s mouth twitches in a side smirk as he slips the other strap into place, “alright, there we go! heels are nice and secure.”

he gets up from the ground, dusting his knee off before extending his hand to help you get up from his chair, “ready?” 

“as ready as i’ll ever be...” you reach for his hand only to pause, your nose scrunching slightly as you pull away, “i don’t know. let’s think this through. do we have to go to the party?”

“well, you are the host.” yoongi points out, “and i planned the whole thing! do you know how hard it was to arrange for a karaoke machine on new year’s eve?” he frowns playfully, “you can’t bail on me like this.” 

“i guess...” 

“listen- whenever you want to leave, just let me know and i’ll grab the entire plate of sliders, a crisp bottle of champagne, and then we’ll head back down here to eat, drink, and watch the fireworks from your office window.” yoongi tilts his head, his hand still out for you to take, “deal?” 

“...throw in the chocolate lava cakes as well and we have a deal.” 

                                   »»————-　♡　————-««

“wow! you really outdid yourself, yoongi.” you nod in approval as you look around, “look at this place!” 

you never even knew the rooftop had the ability to look like some trendy upscale bar that sells cocktails for $30 each 

“hey, if this secretary thing doesn’t work out, maybe i could become a party planner.” yoongi jokes, lifting his glass up with a smile

“you know, i really think you could.” you clink your glass against his before taking a sip of the bubbly champagne, “by the way, you don’t have to hang out with me all night. you’re allowed to go and mingle with your coworkers.” 

“i know.” yoongi hums before his nose scrunches slightly, “but every time i talk to them, they’re always gossiping about something and i think gossiping is unproductive.” 

“wha-” you gawk, your lashes fluttering, “you’re telling me that you’ve had access to juicy office gossip this whole time and not once have i ever heard any of it??”

“i mean...” 

“you have to tell me something. i’ll take anything!” 

you grin excitedly when yoongi gestures for you to come in closer 

“jungkook and tzuyu had sex on the photocopier by the supplies room.” he blurts out quickly, clearing his throat before taking a sip of his own champagne, “but you didn’t hear it from me!”

“they- what?!” you gasp in shock, jaw practically dropping to the floor, “they did?? during work??”

“no, it was after work!” yoongi shakes his head, “i think you had a meeting across town that night which is why we weren’t here... otherwise we... probably would’ve heard it but- it’s on the CCTV security cameras and everything. of course, since the photocopier is kind of out of frame, you can only see their lower halves-”

“well, then how do you know it was jungkook and tzuyu??” 

“their shoes! and jungkook’s socks. he’s the only one who wears bright purple rubber-duckie socks to work.” 

the two of you turn to look at jungkook across the rooftop and you blink before looking back over at yoongi with a pout 

“that’s my favourite photocopier.” you mutter, “i hope they didn’t get any... fluids inside of it-”

“gross! why would it be inside of the machine?!”

“i don’t know! people go crazy during sex sometimes!” you raise your hands in defense before clearing your throat quietly, “okay, but seriously, i feel like having vigorous sex on a piece of office equipment is definitely violating something so i might have to bring them in for a little chat-”

“ooh, can i be there when you scold them?” 

“absolutely-”  

“miss y/n?” you jump in surprise when someone taps your shoulder gently from behind

you glance over your shoulder to see joy before smiling politely, turning around fully to face her, “joy! what’s up?”

“i’d like to talk to you about something, if that’s alright - do you have a moment?” 

“oh! um, of course-” you pause, turning to hand yoongi your glass, “let’s head over there for some privacy. what’s on your mind?” 

“it’s just... you know, regarding past comments i may or may not have made about you-” she chuckles uneasily, “seeing as you still have to figure out who’s getting christmas bonuses this year, i thought that-” 

yoongi bites back a grin when you turn back to look at him with pleading eyes and he shrugs helplessly before raising his own glass at you and downing the rest of the champagne 

                                  »»————-　♡　————-««

yoongi’s never been a huge fan of parties mainly because he’d much rather enjoy a bottle of champagne and full-sized burgers in the comfort of his own home 

he really only started going to parties once you became CEO of the company and he wasn’t left with a choice because he was worried that you’d fire him if he didn’t attend any of these festive celebrations 

he likes to think that you’ve opened him up to new experiences, helping him become a better human being overall 

:-) 

“hey!” yoongi chokes on his tiny burger patty when someone gives his back a hearty slap, “i’ve been looking for you everywhere! i have a bone to pick with you, min yoongi.”

yoongi’s brows furrow in confusion when it’s hoseok that plops down on the bar stool next to him 

“what-” yoongi swallows his bite before giving his chest a couple of pats to help get the masticated chunks of meat down smoother, “what did i do??” 

hoseok opens his mouth to say something before pausing, eyes flickering to the side as he reconsiders what he’s about to say 

he’s a little tipsy thanks to the open bar so he didn’t really think this decision through but he’s here now so it’s a little late to back out 

you explicitly asked him not to meddle but he feels like if he doesn’t do anything, then you’ll never do anything and you’ll just go to the grave keeping your feelings for yoongi a secret 

does this count as meddling? 

he just has to find a way to steer the conversation towards the topic of you and yoongi and romance 

this might be meddling, now that he’s thinking about it

...

it’s fine! 

he’ll do it in such a subtle way that yoongi won’t even notice! 

“it’s not something that you’ve done. it’s something that you haven’t done.” hoseok clears his throat, narrowing his eyes at yoongi suspiciously, “do you like y/n? because she likes you.”

(not very subtle, but hoseok never likes to beat around the bush.) 

“woah-” yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise and he lets out a nervous chuckle before looking around, “ha, i- um- where did you get that idea from?” 

“you didn’t deny it.” hoseok grins in success, “so you do?” 

“i...” yoongi pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek before he lets out a huff and his shoulders droop in defeat, “yeah. yeah, i do. ...but what does that have to do with you?” 

“oh, it has everything to do with me!” hoseok chirps, clapping his hands together excitedly, “i’m here to give you advice!” 

“yeah, okay,” yoongi immediately scoffs and rolls his eyes as he turns back to pick up his drink, “no offense, but i don’t think i should be getting advice from the guy who was almost fired today-”

“oh, please, i wasn’t getting fired when you walked in.” hoseok raises a brow, “we were talking about you before you barged in so y/n obviously panicked and changed the subject to make it look like she wasn’t going all goo-goo-ga-ga over you-” 

“what? you were- y/n was talking about me?” yoongi perks up, his interest in the conversation suddenly reigniting, “really?” 

“she’s always talking about you,” hoseok points out, “don’t get me wrong - i love going to her office to talk about you instead of doing my work, but it’s exhausting! which is part of the reason as to why i’m willing to give you advice to get this show on the road.” 

“i don’t need advice, though.” 

“of course you need advice. if one of you finally made a move, i wouldn’t need to give you advice, but here i am.” hoseok gestures to himself before shrugging, “so... what’s wrong with you?”

yoongi scoffs in offense

that’s a little ruDE

“what’s wrong with me?”

“yeah. why haven’t you made a move yet if you like y/n back?” hoseok emphasizes as a reminder that this crush goes two ways and that yoongi can be blamed for the lack of action just as much as you 

“because... i can’t! it’s not that easy, man.” yoongi shakes his head, “i can’t just ask her out. she’s... like... she’s miss y/n.” 

“yes. and the sky is blue.” hoseok frowns, “i’m sorry, what’s the problem?” 

“she’s the boss!” yoongi snaps, glaring over at hoseok, “she’s our boss!”

“exactly! she’s the boss! if you’re going to date someone in the office, it might as well be the person signing off everyone’s paycheques at the end of each month-” 

“but you can’t- the rules!”

“what rules??”

“there are no rules! that’s why i’m so confused! i’m used to rules! that’s how the world works in my head! what the hell am i supposed to do now? go rogue?! i’ve never gone rogue before!”

“oh, god, who do you think you are? some secret agent? all you’re doing is asking someone out-”

“i can’t date y/n-” 

“give me a legitimate reason as to why you can’t date y/n.”

“i’ll be penalized!” 

“who’s going to penalize you?!”

“the boss of our boss!” 

“please!” hoseok groans loudly, throwing his head back in frustration, “you don’t think he’s goofed around with any of his secretaries?”

“okay, but this isn’t me goofing around with y/n, this is me... being serious with y/n!” yoongi presses his lips together, unsure of what to say next, “yeah. i wanna be serious with y/n.” 

“i promise you that no one cares about relationships as long as work is handed in on time and bags of money are being made.” hoseok hums, gesturing for the bartender to fix up another drink for him 

having this conversation about you with yoongi is just as exhausting as having this conversation about yoongi with you 

...

he doesn’t know if that sentence made any sense but all this alcohol is making the words jumble up together 

“well, okay, but-” yoongi chuckles nervously, turning and setting his glass down on the bar countertop, “then we’d have to make a file with HR declaring the status of our relationship, and then we’d have to talk about whether or not we want to keep things private or let the whole office know- oh, god, and what if it doesn’t work out? what if we break up? it’d be embarrassing after having declared our love for each other in front of everyone! and favouritism! don’t even get me started on favouritism! people are going to bag on y/n if they find out that i’m on the list of people getting a bonus! ...but, in my defense, even if we weren’t together i would probably still be on that list because i’m hardworking-” 

“yoongi-” hoseok interrupts, slapping both his hands down on his shoulders before letting out a sigh, “do you like y/n?” 

“yes.” yoongi answers without missing a beat, “i like y/n. a lot.” 

“okay. then that’s all that matters, right?” 

yoongi opens his mouth to respond but he pauses

huh 

that... is a fair point... 

it shouldn’t matter what anyone else thinks about his relationship with you 

what is it about alcohol that makes some people so wise?

“do you know what kind of a person you’d be if you just repressed your feelings and pretended that they didn’t exist at all? a coward, that’s what you’d be. because y/n is a fantastic woman and you need to hurry up and make a damn move before she realises she’s wasting her time on you and moves on to someone else who isn’t afraid to show their true feelings for her.” hoseok shakes his head gently before pulling away from yoongi with a nonchalant shrug and a snort, “but, you know - i’m drunk as hell and i’ve had nothing to eat so all the things coming out of my mouth righ’now could be complete and utter bullshit!” he hiccups, giggling to himself, “who knows!”

“well… what do you suggest i do?”

“what else do you do at a new year’s eve party?” hoseok’s head flops to the side, the over consumption of nothing but champagne suddenly hitting him like a brick wall 

“…share new year’s resolutions?”

“wha- god, you guys are truly the perfect pair- no, dumbass, you kiiissss someone at midnight.” hoseok slurs, “you already know she’s into you. and now i know that you’re into her so she’s definitely not going to oppose giving you a big ol smooch!”

“well, it’s-” yoongi pulls his sleeve up to check his watch, anxiety bubbling in his stomach when he realizes there are exactly twelve minutes to midnight, “oh, god.” 

okay

that’s fine!

it’s fine, he can work with twelve minutes!

all he has to do is 1) find you, 2) start a casual conversation, 3) somehow transition the casual conversation into a not so casual conversation about his feelings for you, 4) transition from the not so casual conversation to asking if you’d like to be his new year’s kiss, 5)- 

“i can’t pull this off in twelve minutes. i don’t know how i’m going to do this!” yoongi swallows thickly, turning to look at hoseok (who’s starting to doze off), “how the hell am i going to do this??” 

hoseok picks himself up off the counter, turning to face yoongi before a wide smile spreads on his face and a little gasp of excitement slips past his lips, “hey! i’ve been looking for you everywhere. i have a bone to pick with you, min yoongi-” 

“okay, buddy-” yoongi quickly reaches out to keep hoseok from toppling over, “you’ve definitely had one too many-” 

                                  »»————-　♡　————-««

ding!

yoongi steps off the elevator with a huff, quickly checking the time on his watch for the millionth time tonight 

he spent two minutes running around the rooftop like a headless chicken in case you were still up there somewhere 

luckily jungkook told him that he saw you leave the rooftop and there’s really only one other place that you’d be 

he makes his way down the hallway towards the double doors of your office, smiling in success when he sees that one of the doors is slightly ajar 

bingo! 

maybe it’s because he’s now confident about his true feelings for you, but he feels like there’s a spring in his step right now! 

(it could also be because of the liquid courage, but that’s neither here nor there.)

he pushes the door open a little to stick his face in, giving himself a mental high five as he sees you leaning against your desk with a flute of champagne in your hand, staring out the window 

“hey!” yoongi clears his throat, knocking on the door gently, “there you are.”

“hm?” you turn to glance over your shoulder, “oh, yoongi! yeah, hey.” 

“i didn’t realize you’d disappeared... i would’ve brought the sliders with me if i knew you were in here.” he jokes, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click, “everything okay?”

“ah, well. maybe next time.” you smile stiffly, turning away from him to look back out, “yeah, everything’s fine. joy practically talked my ear off up there so i just felt like i needed to get away from the party for a little while.” 

“you know, the fireworks are starting soon...” yoongi points out as he makes his way over to you, “you’re probably going to get better pictures of them up there than down here in your office.” 

“yeah, i know… but it’s also going to be very loud up on the rooftop and i’d prefer to start the new year off with working eardrums.” your nose wrinkles as you let out a chuckle, “also, i…”

“what?”

“i… i don’t know, i just don’t really want to start the new year awkwardly standing in the middle while everyone else is getting new year’s kisses.” you reach up to scratch the back of your neck before chuckling awkwardly, “that… makes me sound like a very bitter single person and i swear it wasn’t supposed to come off that way-” 

“no, i totally get it.” yoongi shakes his head as he wipes his hands on the side of his pants, “as a matter of fact, i kind of wanted to talk to you about something-”

“hold on, hold on- before you say anything, i-” you interrupt him, turning to set your glass down, “i, um- i have something that i wanna say to you as well. can i go first?”

“oh! yes, okay….” yoongi cowers down a little, pressing his lips together tightly, “is... everything alright?”

“yeah!” you nod quickly before pausing, “i mean, sort of. kind of. i’m… not sure if it’s going to be a good idea or not, but i just want to let you know that if you… you know, if you feel uncomfortable or something after i tell you this, you’re free to pack up and leave, you know? i mean, i actually already have a letter of recommendation written for you so if you wanna go off and work for someone else, i’ve already put in a lot of good words for you-”

“woah, woah-” yoongi raises his hands before letting out a chuckle, “i- while i definitely appreciate the gesture, you know i’m… not planning on going anywhere, right?”

“yeah, well… things change!” you clear your throat, gaze averting as you reach up to scratch the back of your neck, “things... change. i… don’t mean to sound so elementary school about it, but i…” you trail off, the little voice in the back of your head reminding you that this is your last chance to back out and not tell yoongi about your feelings for him

you’ve chickened out more than a handful of times, so what’s going to different about this time around?

you look up at yoongi and he blinks twice before offering you a soft smile, “you…?”

oh 

how are you supposed to back out when he’s looking at you like that?

and maybe it’s just because he looks particularly handsome tonight in his suit or because you’re all riled up on cocktails, but...

“i like you.” you blurt out, trying your best not to cringe or make any faces, “like… in a… romantic? way?”

yoongi’s eyes widen and the smile fades from his face, though you don’t have much time to process whatever reaction that was before he’s speaking up 

“you like me.” yoongi repeats, swallowing thickly before nodding, “in a romantic way.”

“yeah.” you shrug, “and i have for a while, but i just never said or did anything about it because i thought it was inappropriate - you know, because i’m your boss and around the time i started liking you was when we held that seminar for workplace harassment and i didn’t want to make you feel like i was harassing you or creeping on you or anything - a-anyways, at first i thought i was attracted to you solely because you’re hot in that broody, college skater-boyfriend kind of way and i thought it’d go away on its own, but then the feelings never went away, and then i thought that maybe this was just a more serious schoolgirl-type crush that would take time to go away, but then a lot of time went by and it still didn’t go away, so… here we are now, at the end of the year, and i… still have a huge, huge crush on you-”

“-i like you too.” 

“okay, cool, but i’m not done talking about-” you pause, your eyes flickering upwards, “wait, what?” 

“i like you, y/n.” yoongi breathes out with a smile, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “actually, i’ve known for a long time that you liked me and at first i was just flattered and admittedly i was a little cocky about it but then i... actually started to like you one day and- well, i didn’t want to say anything because- woah-!”

yoongi yelps when suddenly a paperweight is hurled in his direction and nearly whacks him in the face, “what the f-”

“are you kidding me, yoongi?!” you snap, slapping your hands down as you glare at him across your desk, “are you kidding me?!” 

“okay, i-i-” yoongi stammers, “i wasn’t expecting this reaction so i’m not entirely sure how i’m supposed to-” 

“you knew that i liked you this entire time-” you groan, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “and you knew that you liked me this entire time... and you didn’t say or do anything about it?!”

“well, why didn’t you do anything about it first?” yoongi exasperates, “you- you’re just as much at fault here as i am!”

“because i-” you laugh lightly in disbelief, “because i thought that if i told you that i liked you, that you would feel pressured into saying that you liked me back because i’m your boss! how would i know if your feelings were genuine or if you were just playing along? of course i couldn’t tell you!” 

yoongi chews on the inside of his cheek anxiously as you let out a huff before stepping away from your desk and heading over to stand by the window again 

“i...” he trails off, bending down to pick up the paperweight before setting it down on your desk gently, “i’m sorry that you... struggled with that... but... i think the important thing is that i do like you, y/n. i genuinely like you, and i was an idiot for not saying anything earlier... i let my doubts get in the way and...” he sighs, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, “i’m not good at- i’m not good at dealing with this kind of stuff and usually i just brush it aside and hope the problem goes away but i see you almost every single day so i couldn’t just brush it aside-” 

“yeah, well-” 

both of you freeze up when you suddenly hear the countdown chanting echo from up on the rooftop and yoongi feels his heart plummet to his stomach when he realizes he didn’t even ask if you wanted to be his new year’s kiss 

shit 

shit!

“i’m just-” yoongi shakes his head furiously, “i get nervous when there are no rules and there certainly isn’t a handbook for what to do when you’re attracted to your boss-”

10!

you let out a scoff as you turn to face him, “-and you think there’s a handbook for what to do when you’re attracted to your secretary?!-” 

9!

“i was a total coward for not saying anything sooner and i wish i did! i wish i kissed you at the halloween party!”

8!

“you- you wanted to kiss me at the halloween party?” 

7!

“of course i did, dumbass!” the name slips out of yoongi’s mouth before he even realizes it and he smiles sheepishly when you give him a warning look, “...miss dumbass.”

6!

“anyways,” yoongi coughs, “i-if you’re still interested, i’d really like to kiss you tonight if that’s okay-” 

5!

“wait, did hoseok put you up to this?” you narrow your eyes in suspicion before pointing to yourself, “because he told me to ask you to kiss me tonight-”

“yeah, he put me up to this because we both know that you certainly weren’t going to make the first move-”

4!

“how dare you?” you scoff, crossing your arms stubbornly, “i could make the first move if i really wanted to-” 

3!

“what?! that’s bullsh- oh my god, can we agree now to kiss first and then argue about this later?!” yoongi snaps, eyes full of panic at the thought of not making it on time, “please??” 

2!

“fine, but-” 

1- HAPPY NEW YEAR! 

you don’t get a chance to say anything else before yoongi swoops in swiftly to lean in and kiss you, warm hands quickly reaching up to cup either sides of your face 

the sound of people cheering and fireworks going off in the sky is nothing compared to the erratic thumping of your heart and the high-pitched ringing in your ears 

oh, wow

your lashes flutter as you feel yourself relax, your fists uncurling against yoongi so that your hands rest on his chest

you can feel his rapid heartbeat through his shirt and that’s all the confirmation you need to know that yoongi really, truly likes you back 

yoongi’s hands leave your face so that he can reach down to grasp your hips and pull you towards him, only for his arms to snake around your waist a second later 

your hands slide up his chest before your arms wrap loosely around his neck, feeling as though nothing else matters except what’s happening right now 

you’ve dreamt about this moment for so long but it’s so much better than you could’ve possibly imagined it to be 

and you’re not sure if it’s the copious amount of champagne that you consumed tonight but you just feel so warm inside 

yoongi pulls away (far too soon for your liking), his eyes lidded and hazy as he smiles fondly down at you, “happy new year, boss.”

you can’t fight back the wide grin on your face when he leans down to nudge his nose against yours, both of your hearts undoubtedly beating in time   

“happy new year, secretary min.”

❄️christmas with cee 2020 masterlist 🎄

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

[cimerran-714]

Hello! I hope you're doing well. The purpose of this short "composition" is to closely analyze some of the key H/Hr moments in the books (I haven't watched all the movies, so you won't find anything about the films here).

And I know it should be obvious, but I seriously don't mind the R/Hr or H/G ship. It's none of my business. So please refrain from taking anything out of context/misappropriate the things I say. I mean absolutely no offence to any Canon pairings.

Even if you don't ship them, I'm sure you can't deny that both Harry and Hermione have an incredibly close platonic relationship together. I've heard people narrate some of the "finest" H/Hr moments while explaining why they're fit to be soulmates. There's a high probability that you'd come across them when talking to a H/Hr shipper. However, there are a few scenes in the books (which, in retrospect, are really 'sweet') I haven't heard others talk about often.

In this essay, I'd like to share some of the best scenes in the Potter books, immediately followed by an underrated moment.

Let's dig in.

Best moment:

The hug in Philosopher's/Sorceror's Stone.

Ah, isn't it obvious? This is certainly one of the finest moments that kickstarts the strong dynamic between Harry and Hermione. I really like this scene. It's powerful on a number of levels.

Romione shippers tend to provide a parallel to exemplify the attraction between the remaining members of the Golden Trio (Hermione apologizing about Scabbers and sobbing onto Ron's shoulders). But in my eyes, there's certainly something different about her hugging Harry.

Firstly, we've got to consider the context. When Hermione embraced Ron, it happened on the second page of a different chapter. On the contrary, anything that occurs at the end of any chapter/book sticks in our minds for a long time.

I'm going off on a tangent here, just to make sure you get the point. This trope (though I'm not sure I can it that) happens a lot of times in the Harry Potter books.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley... He couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry Potter -- the boy who lived!"

This scene hits home for a lot of reasons.

Look, most of us can't help feeling sorry for Harry here. His parents are dead, which (as McGonagall claimed) is a horrible thing to have happened. We've also seen at the beginning of the book that the Dursleys hate the Potters.

It's distressing to realize that a one-year-old is about to be raised by a family who doesn't like him at all.

And the fact that the entire wizarding world is celebrating Volde... sorry, You-Know-Who's downfall, while the boy sleeps on innocently (without any knowledge of what's just happened), is even more saddening. No, he simply couldn't know what'd happened to his life, that witches and wizards all over the country are toasting him.

It's bittersweet.

Moving on:

Deciding that he'd worry about the Hogsmeade form when he woke up, Harry got back into bed and reached up to cross off another day on the chart he'd made for himself, counting down the days left until his return to Hogwarts. Then he took off his glasses and lay down; eyes open, facing his three birthday cards.

Extremely unusual though he was, at that moment Harry Potter felt just like everyone else -- glad, for the first time in his life, that it was his birthday.

This is, yet again, another 'Aww' moment at the end of a chapter. How can you not feel sorry for Harry? Most thirteen-year-olds have already enjoyed a lot of birthdays in the past. But for him, it's something new.

He's glad that it's his birthday for the first time. If I didn't know better, JKR wants us to sympathize with Harry.

And here's a final example:

Harry spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: the little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and disappeared through it. Harry thought he heard a sob before it slammed.

I do feel for Ron, getting attacked by a flock of birds was certainly uncalled for. But don't you get the point? The "sob" momentarily diverts our attention towards Hermione.

"Poor Ron, that must have hurt... oh, dear, Hermione's crying."

I think you know what I'm talking about. It's the same thing that happened when Hermione embraced Harry and called him a "Great wizard."

Yes, the H/Hr hug doesn't occur at the last line or anything, but it's certainly just a page before the chapter ends.

"But Harry -- what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well -- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

"Hermione!"

"Harry -- you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him. "Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery and -- oh Harry -- be careful!"

That's one reason why it's meaningful!

Also, note that Harry's just about to face the 'Big Bad' (at a moment when 'Danger lies ahead of them and safety lies behind'). No one's noticed them hugging, too.

And it wasn't in front of the Portrait Hall or anything, either.

It was deep beneath the ramifications of the castle. It was (probably) around midnight, too.

The situation (arguably, the fate of the wizarding world rests on Harry's shoulders now).

The dialogue ("You're a great wizard, you know" instead of "I'm so sorry about Scabbers")

The atmosphere (It was late at night).

The fact that they were just kids.

All of these make the hug so powerful.

Oh, and it was the first book in the series. 2- Underrated moment:

Harry (and yes, Ron too) saving Hermione from the troll.

What's interesting here is:

1- Harry was the one who immediately thought of Hermione after Dumbledore ordered the Prefects to take everyone to their dormitories (Not Ron).

2- Harry isn't smug about having just saved a stranger's life.

A stranger, moreover, who was considered "interfering".

On the other hand, Ron is a little git.

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron's arm.

"I've just thought -- Hermione."

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll."

Ron bit his lip.

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy'd better not see us."

It's pretty obvious that, if given the choice, Ron would rather not go after the girl he'd teased in class.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Harry's saving both of their lives here (while endangering his own).

Remember that he's only eleven.

"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled.

"Five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him.

Ron thinks they were doing Hermione a favour. Harry, however, is a tad more level-headed. And sensible.

Also, it's somewhat of a stretch, but I believe it proves the point that Harry's true nature is like his mother's (James Potter had boasted around after he saved Snape's life).

Yes, I know it's such a cliche, but Harry is pure at heart.

3-Best moment:

The "mythical" Hippogriff ride:

Now, I've personally never thought much of it. It's a good chapter, yes, but bringing animals into a Shipping war is just... meh.

It's the trust that Harry had in Hermione (when she pulled out the Time turner) that interests me.

Anyhow, it's a pretty common argument posed by H/Hr fans.

Quoting from Wikipedia:

In some traditions, the hippogriff is said to be the symbol of love, as its parents, the mare and griffin, are natural enemies. In other traditions, the hippogriff represents Christ's dual nature as both human and divine.

It occurred in the wee hours of the morning, so I suppose it does have a slightly "mythological" (I can't think of a better word) feel to it.

Again, I'm not sure I can call it my favourite part of the book, especially as Hermione wasn't enjoying riding on Buckbeak.

Underrated moment:

Having fun talking about Filch and Madam Pince.

Enjoying the fact that they could speak normally again, they made their way along the deserted lamp-lit corridors back to the common room, arguing whether or not Filch and Madam Pince were secretly in love with each other.

For Romione shippers who believe that Harry and Hermione are "boring" together, it's a rude awakening.

No, the "arguing" doesn't mean they were actually in a disagreement. It's clear that both of them were having fun.

Enjoying their time, in fact.

It's one of the few 'Harmony' scenes in Half-blood Prince.

I do not believe that either of them was consciously aware of their feelings towards each other, either.

And if it's just a coincidence that they were enjoying talking about being in love, it's certainly a bizarre one.

4-Best moment:

Visiting Godric's Hollow together

"'The last enemy that shall be defeated is death'..." A horrible thought came to him, and with a kind of panic. "Isn't that a Death Eater idea? Why is that there?"

"It doesn't mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry," said Hermione, her voice gentle. "It means... you know... living beyond death. Living after death."

But they were not living, thought Harry. They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents' moldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

Hermione had taken his hand again and was gripping it tightly. He could not look at her, but returned the pressure, now taking deep, sharp gulps of the night air, trying to steady himself, trying to regain control. He should have brought something o give them, and he had not thought of it, and every plant in the graveyard was leafless and frozen. But Hermione raised her wand, moved it in a circle through the air, and a wreath of Christmas roses blossomed before them. Harry caught it and laid it on his parents' grave.

As soon as he stood up he wanted to leave: He did not think he could stand another moment there. He put his arm around Hermione's shoulders, and she put hers around his waist, and they turned in silence and walked away through the snow, past Dumbledore's mother and sister, back toward the dark church and the out-of-sight kissing gate.

If it was intended to be a totally platonic visit, why a pose that's very romantic? Also, as someone else had mentioned in their blog, Harry rarely (if never) initiates physical contact with anyone.

There's also a kissing gate present in the Church.

It seems as if JKR has got a flair for writing co-incidences that further cement the H/Hr relationship.

Underrated moment:

Ernie Macmillion's change of heart:

This is simply beautiful, and even more so as Macmillion was aware that Harry can speak Parseltongue (an ability commonly associated with Dark Wizards).

What happens when students are mysteriously turning into stone, and you figure out that one of them was "egging on" a snake during a duelling club? A boy, moreover, who dislikes the Muggles he lives with? Someone who managed to defeat Lord Voldemort himself?

Hmm...

The logical conclusion would be that Harry's got a hand in it. Ernie believed that Harry Potter was the one Petrifying everyone, even a few weeks/months after the attacks stopped.

What takes the Hufflepuff to bring him to his senses?

The fact that Harry would never harm his Muggle-born friend.

I know it's a little thing, but it shows that the whole school (indeed, Ernie belonged to a different House) was aware of how close Harry and Hermione were together.

Note that he'd apologized immediately after a double-attack.

"Harry, harm Hermione Granger? Impossible!"

Macmillian was the one being paranoid, and told tales about Harry to Hannah Abbot.

And yet a single thing changed his mind completely.

To wind up, I'mma give you another part from the first book:

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harry's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, he seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told him on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die." "Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was Vol-" "Harry! Harry, are you all right?" Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

What's noteworthy is that Hermione apparently doesn't care about staying close to Hagrid and protecting herself. She's so worried about what's happened to Harry that she's rushing along in front of Hagrid.

Throughout the books, you can see Harry being protective of Hermione.

The feeling's mutual ;)

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-40)

Word count: 4.8K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Fluff, angst, feels, sickness

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​​. You’re a Rockstar <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

No one talked to you today, the whispers though, had escalated. No one was bothering to keep it quiet either. Not just your classmates, even the faculty kept giving you looks, ranging from distrust to pity. Professor Whitman, who never cared much about anything, took a whole minute to find you in the class and give you a once over, like he was seeing you for the first time- Sam Winchester’s flighty wife, back to ruin his life again.

The judgement you could take. The pity was painful. What did they see? A girl who couldn’t appreciate a good man? Or as much as you hated to think of it that way- a girl who couldn't be a mother again.

It came as a surprise when Jody called you to her office after the class. When you followed her in, she closed the door behind and unexpectedly pulled you into a hug.

“I’m sorry about all of this, Y/N,” she said. “It’s awful.”

You waited for her to let go of you then asked, “How much trouble is Sam in?”

Jody pursed her lips. “I want to say, ‘not much’ but we’ll only know on Monday, I suppose.”

“Are you part of the enquiry committee?”

She nodded. “All of the freshman faculty panel is on there. You have nothing to worry about, Y/N. Your grades are impeccable. You can’t possibly be sleeping with all of us.”

“I’m not even sleeping with Sam!” You let out, frustrated. “And I’m more worried about what happens to him.” You were a student. The most they could do is sack you from the students committee and bump down your grades. 

Jody regarded you for a moment. “The two of you are so similar. It’s uncanny.”

She sighed. “I’ll be upfront with you, Y/N. As much as I’ve tried to shake them, Sam’s priorities are set. Even absent, you were very high up on that list. With you in front of him, there are very few things Sam wouldn’t give up for you.”

You already knew that. But was it right to let him make all those sacrifices for someone as undeserving as you?

The thought plagued you after you’d left Jody’s office, just as it had plagued you for the past two days. Outside, you ran into Madison.

“Oh, I was looking for you,” she said. “Sorry, I missed the first few lectures, but I have news for you. One good, one bad.”

“Bad one first,” you said, apprehensive. 

Madison made a face. “Starting the day after tomorrow, I have no place to live.”

“What? Didn’t you have a lease for the whole year?”

“Lacey is screwing someone, who knows someone else who knows the hostel director. And, well, long story short, my lease got prematurely terminated.”

Anger flared inside you again. This was happening to Madison only because she was staunchly standing with you. 

“I want you to come house hunting with me. My brother’s agreed to help me out with the money. So, I’m good to go.”

The idea popped up in your head immediately. “Why don’t you move in with me?” 

Her eyebrows knitted together. “Meg?”

“Meg’s almost moved out next door. I was supposed to put out an add for a roommate but with everything that’s going on…” Convincing Meg to continue with the move had been very difficult. She thought it was some sort of betrayal to leave you by yourself in all this mess. Cas supported her on that. However, everyone was camping in your living room anyway. 

Ultimately, you had to put your foot down and tell her to move her ass out. Your life might always remain a tragedy. It shouldn’t pause her or Cas’s life. She had still slept on your sofa last night.

“You’re serious?” Madison was trying her best to contain her excitement.

“As a heart attack.”

She let out a loud squeal and tackled you. “This is the best thing ever. We’ll be roomies!”

“Not if you call me that.”

Madison’s laughter rang out in your ears. “Now you’ve already offered. You can’t take it back, roomie.”

“Wait, what’s the good news?” 

Her face split into a huge grin. “I heard from the HR at Acton Gris. They won’t hire me as an intern. But she asked me to apply for the position of summer associate next year. She said my chances looked great.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Yes! I’m thinking of applying for an on campus job this year.”

Madison was sincere, smart and she worked very hard. No wonder good things were in store for her. “Let me talk to Molly today. See if she has some inside intel on vacancies.”

“You’d do that?” Madison couldn’t stop beaming and you smiled right along with her. “The world is a much better place with you in it.”

Not everyone thought that. Following the pattern of the past few days, Rebecca decided to show her face again after the lecture. You had been expecting her at this point. Maybe she couldn’t sleep without venting off her frustration on you. As usual, she had Lacey next to her, who really had gone fully darkside.

“Missing your Professor?”

You saw Madison start, but Rebecca put in. “Oh, stop being her Lapdog, Maxwell. You don’t have to rollover each time she blows a whistle.”

“It’s alright, Maddie,” you said in a calm voice. “As it happens, I do miss him very much.”

“I hope at least the sex was worth it,” said Lacey.

You grinned at her. “Mind-blowing, actually. I remember this one time, I was screaming his name for literal hours. God, the things that man can do. It’s in-credi-ble.” You drew out the last word with a relish.

Lacey’s jaw dropped.

Rebecca recovered quickly. “Christ! You’re shameless. That man’s married with a son. Have you got no shame at all?”

“Weren’t you the one making out with Sam at Maddie’s birthday party in the bar restroom?” You shot back. “I remember you described the bit about feeling his abs in extreme details. He wore his wedding ring around his neck. So how are you not shameless?”

Rebecca’s face reddened in an instant. “What… how…?”

“Doesn’t feel so good when the finger is pointed at you. Right, Rebecca? When you’re the one being put on a spot and your character is being brought into question. It was okay for you to make out with a professor. Why are the rules so different for me?”

“I- I was drunk that night. And I never slept with him!”

“Don’t you dare paint him in that light. As if you were some drunk woman he took advantage of in a toilet cubicle.” You spat. “You’re so desperate that you don’t think twice about lying over something so demeaning. You didn’t touch Sam because at 2 in the night, he wasn’t even there in that bar. So shut that bullshit.”

There was a crowd gathered around you now, and she didn’t like her words coming back to bite her.

“How do you know where Sam was that night?” Rebecca questioned, clearly baffled and out of her element, but trying to salvage the situation and save face.

You rolled your eyes. “We’re having an affair, remember? Keep up, Rebecca. You filed that complaint. Also, don’t worry about his wife, really. She totally doesn’t mind.” You winked.

The murmur around you was starting to intensify. You didn’t know how long it would be before the actual story came out. Or if it ever would come out. Neither did you care. You didn’t owe an explanation to any of these people. 

Rebecca breathed out harshly, and spoke through her teeth, contempt dripping in each word. “You’re disgusting. That child of his-”

“Don’t. Don’t utter a word about that boy,” you hissed, the anger finally burning through. “You’ve done enough harm to Sam’s reputation. But I swear to God, Rebecca, you’ll live to regret it if you so much as dare to think about Max, you deplorable excuse of a living thing.”

The warning was so raw, she flinched back from you as you stormed out. 

Madison did not follow you to the library. She knew when you wanted to be left alone. Attacking Sam was one thing, but you really did want to rip Rebecca’s throat for wanting to bring Max in the middle of it. The fierce protectiveness you felt for him was like nothing else you had experienced before. 

Throughout the following hour, you kept glancing at the door of the library, expecting Max to walk in. Sam had said he would visit. 

Maybe you would ask him to read out to you today. If anything, that could fix your mood.

“Umm… Y/N?”

You looked up to see Molly standing over you. 

“Hey. I didn’t see you there.”

She shuffled from one foot to the other looking at you awkwardly.

You squared your shoulders, realising what she might’ve heard. “Anything you want?”

“I- I wanted to say sorry.”

That brought you up short. “Why?”

Molly ran her fingers through her red hair. “I didn’t know you were… you know… Sam’s wife, and I said horrible stuff to you the other day.”

It hadn’t actually been that horrible. 

“I’d heard the rumours but I swear I didn’t believe a word. Then I ran into Chase Lincoln yesterday. He told me.”

“Everything?”

Molly nodded sadly. “It was wrong of me to make assumptions, Y/N. What happened in Sam’s life was none of my business. And for the reason you left to be so horrifying? I could have never imagined. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know how to apologize.”

“Stop saying sorry,” you said at once. “I know you’ve always meant well for Sam and for me, Molly. Everyone likes to gossip. It’s no big deal. You didn’t hurt or offend me.”

“There must be something I can do, novia.”

“Never bring it up again. Please. Let’s just forget that conversation happened.”

You saw her eyes start to fill up. “Take the rest of the week off, yeah? Come back Monday.”

“You’re low on staff already.” You did not want anyone’s sympathy.

“I’m not doing this for you,” she said. “Spend the weekend with Sam. He’ll need a distraction more than ever before that hearing on Monday. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Molly disappeared into the librarian’s room before the waterworks started. She didn’t want you to see her tear up so you didn’t follow her in, continuing with your sideways glances at the door. The sharp ring of your phone made you jump.

“Hello?” You answered the unknown number

“Y/N? It’s Alex. Sam left me your number in case of emergencies.” She sounded frantic.

“Is everything okay?” 

“Can you please come over? Max is really sick and… he’s… he’s asking for you.”

*****

Instead of knocking on the door, you straight up punched the security key and barged into the house.

“Max? Alex?”

“Up here!” You heard Alex’s voice. Taking two steps at a time you made it to Max’s room. Your chest contracted, seeing Max in the bed. He was curled up on his side, cheeks wet, face puffy from crying. 

Alex was sitting on a chair next to him, distressed.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, rushing to Max’s side and placing a hand against his forehead. He was burning up.

“I don’t know,” said Alex, “He was fine when I picked him up from school. He said he was feeling sick half an hour ago and now he’s running a fever. I tried calling his usual doctor but it says the number doesn’t exist anymore. He’s been crying and calling out for Sam and... you.”

“Did you try Sam?”

“He’s not reachable.”

“Max, honey, what’s wrong?” You asked as gently as you could. “Do you hurt somewhere?”

He opened his eyes and your heart lurched at the tears in them. “Stomach. My stomach hurts. I want dad.”

“Sam will be home at night. He’ll be with you.” You turned to Alex. “Is he allergic to something?” 

“Not that I know of.”

You were sure he hadn’t had outside food in at least a week, so food poisoning was out.

“Does your body hurt, baby?”

Max nodded slowly, drawing into himself. “And my head.”

“Alex, could you please find the first aid box and get me a thermometer?”

She scampered off to find it, relieved to have someone else take charge of the situation. Keeping one hand on Max’s forehead, you reached out for your purse with the other and pulled out your phone. Thankfully, the number was on the speed dial. He picked up the phone on the second ring.

“Cas, where are you?”

“At the hospital. Everything okay?”

“No. Max is running a high fever. I’d guess around 101. He says he’s feeling sick, and has stomach and body ache.”

There was a pause, then Cas said. “Can you drive him to the hospital? Bring him directly to the paeds ward on the 7th floor. I’ll see you there in fifteen minutes.”

Alex was back with the thermometer. 102.3. Thankfully, she had a license and Claire’s car was in their driveway. You asked her to bring it out front.

After she left, you gently coaxed Max into a sitting position, he looked drowsy and was still sniffling a little. “Honey, listen to me. You’re going to have to deal with a little inconvenience, okay? We’re going to drive you to the hospital very quickly.”

“Hospital?” He mumbled. eyes filling up again. 

“It’s just Cas there,” you soothed him. “You remember Cas, right? We all played jenga together.”

Max opened his mouth to say something, instead his eyes widened and threw up over the front of your sweater and into your lap. 

He started crying immediately. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes filled up. “It’s okay, baby. It’s no big deal.” You removed the puke covered sweater and used to wipe away the vomit stuck to your jeans. “See, it’s all gone. No need to worry at all.”

The retching had left him weak and shivering. 

“Just stay put a minute.” You hurriedly tossed your sweater in the hamper by the door, and pulled on one of Sam’s overlarge shirts over your T-shirt. Once back, you grabbed Max’s grey blanket and wrapped it around him. Slinging your purse around your torso, you lifted him in your arms and carried into the car that was already waiting at the curb. You held Max close to your chest in the backseat, whispering soft reassurances in his ears. 

Just as Alex pulled up in front of the hospital, Max threw up on you again. It made him cry harder. You realised it was not just humiliating for him, he was missing his dad terribly. 

“Max, honey, it’s totally okay,” you assured him, kissing his brow. “I used to throw up so much as a kid, gran used to call me projectile Y/N. Just puke all around me all the time. Hell, ask your dad. He held my hair when I threw up in the toilet. It’s my jam. And we’ve got a  towel now. Let’s clean you up, okay?”

Thankfully, the blanket wasn’t soiled, so you could keep it around him as you carried him in the lift.

Cas was waiting for you there. He immediately guided you to a bed and laid Max down on it. You started to step back.

“Y/N, don’t go,” Max rasped out. 

“I’m right here, Chirp. I’m not going anywhere, but Cas needs to take a look at you.”

Max still reached out with his hand. You looked at Cas. He gave you a quick nod and you rushed to Max’s side once more, grasping his outstretched fingers tightly. Cas pressed Max’s tummy, asking where exactly it hurt, then checked the temperature again along with the pulse. You watched apprehensively as Cas pulled down Max’s eyelids and asked more questions. Meanwhile, the chills kept getting worse.

“It looks like he’s caught a viral fever. The nurse outside told me it’s been doing a round at the school. We’ve had many kids this week.”

“Why is he throwing up then?”

“It’s probably the phlegm. I don’t think there’s a reason to worry. I’ll give him an IV with paracetamol and nausea suppressants. He’ll feel much better in a few hours.” Cas hesitated. “Maybe you should ask Sam before we start the treatment. Only he can sign off on the papers. You’ll need the details of the health insurance.”

“I can’t get to him. We’ve been trying non-stop.” 

Would Sam want you to make such decisions on his behalf? Max was looking paler than usual and was clearly in pain. You couldn’t wait till midnight to start him on medication. It was killing you to see him hurting like this.

“Screw the insurance. I’ll pay whatever the bill comes out to be… and I’ll sign off on the papers as well.”

Cas gave you an apprehensive look. “Y/N?”

“Look,” you said through your teeth, “I’m still his legal guardian. I have that right. Just start him on the medication. I can’t bear to see him like this.”

“Alright.” Cas said something to the nurse behind him who rushed out and then came back with a syringe. 

“This is going to hurt just a little, Max,” Cas said, flicking at the needle.

You crouched down next to Max’s head. “You’re my brave boy, aren’t you? One little prick and that will be all. You’ll feel so much better afterwards. Can you do that?” 

Max gave you one quick jerk of his neck. “Close your eyes.” He did. 

Cas pushed the needle into the tiny crease of Max’s arm and you flinched, tears pouring down your cheeks. Max did not even make a whimper. The nurse stuck a piece of white tape over the puncture mark after Cas was done.

“You need to swallow these two little tablets,” Cas said, handing them to Max along with a glass of water. Max looked at you and you nodded encouragingly. Without any fuss, he did as Cas said. You hugged Max very tightly to your chest. “You’re the bravest little thing in this world, you know that? And I’m so damn proud of you. You get every cookie you can think of when you feel better, yeah?”

“We’ll keep him here till the nausea subsides,” said Cas. “Once he feels better, you can take him home.”

Cas seemed concerned, but it wasn’t directed at Max- which made you feel better. It was directed at you. “You better sign off on those papers, Y/N.”

“Can you please bring them here?” You pleaded. “I don’t want to leave Max.” The boy in question was still hugging your middle tightly.

“Of course.”

It was with shivering hands that you filled out the form. You stared at the paper for a whole minute before ticking off on the small box in the relationship to the patient column against mother. Max had fallen asleep in your arms and the tears just wouldn’t stop. You knew he was going to be okay, the fever was already coming down and he had stopped shivering. Sweat dewed up on his forehead. 

Occasionally you wiped it off with the back of your sleeve. 

But you were terrified of this feeling- like the world would go dark if a single wrong thing happened to this boy. There was a point in your life when you were ready to own up to this feeling, looking forward to it even- and then you had lost it, along with every other emotion in your heart. Since the day you had met Max, you’d been dancing along the edge of the precipice of this very feeling- this selfless, immense love. Not ready to take the leap. Scared that you’d be shattered if you did.

Were you scared of being a bad mother? Or were you simply scared of being a mother? 

As you sat there, alone, in the small clinical room, with Max softly snoring in your lap, you realised that what you truly feared above and beyond everything was giving in to feeling this love and losing it again. 

If you accepted him as your son, and then something happened to him, you wouldn’t make it out of it alive. Literally. Not accepting Sam’s love and a place in his and Max’s life was not only a product of your doubts and self-hatred. It was a plain survival instinct. The epiphany was so strong, it left you breathless.

You felt a hand against your shoulder. Cas’s blue eyes were sympathetic in their depth. “You can take him home now, Y/N.” He didn’t try to reassure you beyond it. He had a subtle way of comforting without saying the words out loud.

You called Alex again, who had been reading in the waiting room and she drove you back to Max’s place. He’d been asleep through the ride, right until you put him to bed. Insisting that Alex go back home and study for her exams, you stripped down to your tank top, pulled on a pair of Sam’s tracks. After making sure that Max was still out, you cleaned up your clothes, and the mess on the floor and side of Max’s bed. You didn’t dare close the door of the bathroom, lest Max call out to you and you couldn’t answer. 

Taking the chance, you made some chicken soup for him, and only then did you wake him up, gently. 

Max called out for Sam the moment he opened his eyes and your heart broke again. Doing your best to reassure him that Sam was on his way, you cajoled Max into changing out of his dirty clothes and into fresh ones. 

He refused to eat the soup, but with soft insistence, you persuaded him to finish half a bowl of it. 

“You’ll read to me?” He said in a muted, dull voice as you tucked him back in the bed.

“Of course, sweetheart, what do you want me to read?”

“Anything.”

You looked around the room, your eyes landing on the only book over his nightstand. 

“Alright, here we go.” You flipped to the page with a bookmark. “We could not wait for Atticus to come home for dinner, but called and said we had a big surprise for him. He seemed surprised when he saw most of the back yard in the front yard, but he said we had done a jim-dandy job. “I didn’t know how you were going to do it,” he said to Jem, “but from now on I’ll never worry about what’ll become of you, son, you’ll always have an idea...”

*********

It was stupid and incredibly irresponsible on Sam’s part to let his phone drain out completely. Even worse, he’d left it to charge in the meeting room and forgotten to check it in the next couple of hours while he met with the children in the boy’s home. He came back to 17 missed calls and 23 text messages- from Alex and Y/N. 

Max was sick and he’d had no idea.

Sam had frantically called first thing after going through the texts. Y/N had picked up only to whisper that Max was better and asleep, and that Sam needn’t worry. For the next five hours, Sam worried ceaselessly anyway. It drove Chase up the wall, but he played his music loudly in the car all the way till Sam dropped him off and didn’t point out how Sam was a total maniac. 

The clock on his dashboard blinked 1:22 as he made the bend to his house.

Sam parked the car all wrong in the driveway, barely giving it a second thought before running inside. He should’ve been quieter, knowing Max was asleep, but the anxiety barely kept his legs moving. He would have continued at the same rate through Max’s door if the scene before him hadn’t made him stop.

On the bed, Max was sleeping peacefully. He was dressed in a thin cotton t-shirt, the lower half of his body was covered in his blanket. That wasn’t what made Sam stop. Y/N was curled up beside him, her arm thrown around Max, who was nextled so comfortably in her embrace that he belonged there. Max’s book was balanced over Y/N’s hip, wedged open on the page she had been reading out of. On the nightstand, stood a bowl of cold soup, half empty, along with water and strips of medicine. The table on Y/N’s side held a cooking pot filled with water and a washcloth lay dipped in it. She’d been nursing him- from fever or the sweat, Sam couldn’t say.

Slowly, he walked up to Max, and very very carefully placed the back of his hand on his forehead. No fever. 

Sam looked about himself. The floor was strewn with Max’s clothes that smelled like he had been sick over them. Sam picked up the clothes and carried them to the washing machine. Inside was already a dry load of clothes that belonged to Y/N and him. So Max had thrown up on her. More than once.

Sam knew from the messages that Y/N had taken Max to the hospital- had her friend, whom she trusted implicitly take a look at his son, signed the papers as his guardian and paid the bill out of her pocket.

The thought occurred to Sam as he undressed for the night. In that last message, Y/N had apologised for signing off on Sam’s behalf, as if he could ever be mad at her for dropping whatever she was doing to look after his son, the way a mother would.

Sam understood now why Max had thrown a fit when Sam had forbidden him from seeing Y/N. It had hurt Sam that he couldn’t be enough for Max, that Max was looking for something more in Y/N. But seeing them together now, Sam could see he had been completely wrong. Max wasn’t asking something more, he’d been asking for what already belonged to him- Y/N’s love. Max had been right all along.

Sam pulled the covers and duvet off his bed and dragged to Max’s room where he laid them out at the foot of Max’s bed, so he’d be sleeping next to him on the floor. An alarm started going off on Y/N’s phone, and Sam jumped to turn it off. It was already 2 O’ clock. She had set successive alarms for every hour of the night, Sam presumed to check on Max. Sam turned off all of them. He was home now, he could take care of it. 

He checked Max’s temperature once more- still normal- and then bent down to place a kiss on his forehead. It was almost November. Max always had bouts of viral or flu in the cold months. He should have foreseen it. If Y/N hadn’t been around…

The expression on her face was so peaceful as she held onto his boy, tears sprang into Sam’s eyes. This was everything he wanted in his life. Everything. Right in front of him. He bent down once more and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. She didn’t wake at his touch, but adjusted herself closer to Max on the tiny bed, the book falling off her hip with a soft thud onto the thick carpet. 

Sam lay down on the floor, thinking of a night very long ago when Y/N had fallen asleep on the  sofa in his house, back in Lawrence. He’d read to her from this very book that night- for the first time. Sam had slept besides her on the floor that night as well. A writer would have called the parallel poetic… but Sam saw it for what it was, shrouded in a mist of uncertainty all around him- a haunting ache inside his soul.

He couldn’t thank her for what she’d done for his Max today- not only would that gesture be insufficient, it would be insulting. No, Sam wouldn’t thank her. Instead, he would check up on Max every hour, make her breakfast in bed, and iron her clothes before she woke up, so she wouldn't be late for classes tomorrow. He would pack her a lunch and kiss her goodbye at the door. Maybe she would see through him and understand how incredibly grateful he was for today… and how tragically hopeful he was for the future, when he could do these simple things everyday without the excuse of an unsaid thank you.

“I love you, Darling,” he whispered. “It can only ever be you.”

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

A/N 2: It’s been a hard, awful few days. I must be made up of stronger stuff than I thought I was.

Please do let me know if you liked this part. Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated. 

Five more chapters to go!

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[angesaurus]

I still have to pay over $1440 for daycare next month even though we have no idea when she’ll get to go back. I had also prepaid for lunches so that’s another $57. (And keep your comments to yourself about what we can do because there are some nosy af anons out there - we signed a contract last year when they reopened and in order to keep her spot, we have to pay the full price even if we are out unless the school itself has to close for longer then 2 weeks). It’s still a business and she still has to pay her employees. But I can still be mad about it. And lunch is a wash I guess since it was ordered weeks ago.

If Gavin is negative, he has to get tested AGAIN and stay out longer. Oh and we had to administer the tests ourselves. I’m a little annoyed we got zero prior warning. The woman said nothing on the phone. The website said a clinician would be doing it. So who even knows if we did them right. Watch all 3 tests be inconclusive because I don’t have experience sticking things up noses!!! The nurse at school said ideally you want him to be positive because it’s a less quarantine time and he wouldn’t need to get tested again (as long as no symptoms). In what FUCKED up world are we living in. I appreciate the steps the district is taking but Jesus Christ. Also the nurse and attendance clerk seemed so grateful which just tells me no other parents are being as cautious or providing info when someone in their household is positive. The nurse said she wasn’t even sure how to choose the exposure date for him because of how close of a contact it is. You’re telling me no other student has reported a sibling positive case?!?! If he’s positive, it’s going to be a shitshow.

I’m mad. We do what we are supposed to. Our poor kids have had barely any interaction with anyone besides their grandparents so we can keep them in school/daycare. Gavin does soccer which is masked and aside from playing, the kids are expected to distance and its outside. They can’t even high five after games. Dan and I hardly go anywhere. I can count the times we’ve socialized on two hands (combined!!!!) since March 2020. We don’t go to the mall. I went to ONE baby shower this year (which isn’t even the reason this is happening!) and masked up the WHOLE time even though NO ONE else did!!! We still haven’t gone to any type of restaurant. I haven’t even fucking left the house (aside from the testing place and walk to the bus stop) since LAST Sunday.

Meanwhile - everyone I know is having parties and going to brunch and having playdates and traveling and going to sporting events. Vacation (like international travel to all inclusive resorts - I don’t give a fuck if you’re going to an airb&b or a cabin or camping. These people are literally going to islands! Must be nice!!). We have our Disney vacation that’s been planned for almost 2 fucking years, that’s been pushed back TWICE and I’m still debating if we should lose the money for it (close to $10K for 6 people). Dan and I cancelled two other trips. Our last date night (that didn’t involve eating at the house) was target. We work from home. Dan is not even going back to in person. He only has to go for the testing days in June!

And I feel guilty for all of the above because I know none of it matters because we’re all healthy still and have no symptoms and so many people have died or now have such low qualify of life because of this shitty virus. And I should be so grateful that this is the first time any of us have had to quarantine or test or really really deal with this. But we live a state away from family already and now the lack of help when I need it is even more apparent. I emailed HR to see about options for leave before I blow through some PTO. Dan of course has conferences this week.

Yesterday was awful. And I can’t get the shaky anxious feeling to go away and it won’t go away until we get our results back. I feel like I can’t even vent to my friends about it. Dan thinks now her test is wrong because no one is sick and only one other kid in her class is positive. I just don’t even know what to think. I’m so tired of this stupid virus that took over my life.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 2

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. First, 2 platonic chapters for set-up/build-up. And then, the story will split into 2 paths depending on your romantic pairing preference: You and Thrawn, or You and Eli.

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Plan

Pairing: None...yet...

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of bullying

Length: 2k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

The rest of the week saw the three of you using every bit of free time outside your classes and studies to gather information for Thrawn to build a solid plan.

Eli tailed his pesky classmate Arden everywhere, even skipping a class one day to break into his dorm, trying to learn anything about the guy that could be useful to get him involved in the plot. Thrawn analyzed the simulation software and protocols that would be used to administer the tests, mapping out every possible way Commander Burdick could hijack it. And you were the one spying on the Burdick himself. Since the commander didn't seem too interested in your grades, you were able to shadow him without suspicion, and had been able to slip a bug into his offices to eavesdrop on any potential conversations about his plans for sabotage.

Your classmates and the staff were none the wiser. That was the advantage of being social outcasts. Half of them avoided you all like the plague, and the other half already thought you were weird people doing weird things. So it wasn't long before you'd all gotten enough intel to work with.

It was late in the evening at the end of the week. You found yourself in Thrawn and Eli's shared dorm, which looked identical to your own in the opposite wing, because the Empire couldn't bother with things like individuality or comfort. Eli sat on the edge of his top bunk, his legs swinging casually, and his coat unbuttoned to reveal a wrinkled undershirt you knew he hadn't bothered to wash all week. Thrawn paced about in the middle of the room, his long strides only allowing him about four good steps before he had to turn around. He still had his uniform on, boots and badges and all.

You leaned against the railing of the bed, watching Thrawn as he went back and forth. Sometimes he sat still when he was scheming, with his fingers steepled and his gaze seemingly reaching into some unknown dimension beyond your comprehension. That usually happened when he was running through variables that didn't concern you, at least from his perspective. You and Eli had accepted long ago there would always be parts of his plans he would never share with you. He was kind of a control freak like that.

But tonight, he seemed to be more welcoming of collaboration, hence his steady rhythm of pacing in front of you.

"Only one variable remains, as I see it," he was saying. "We understand how the commander will manipulate the system to cause a redundancy in the simulation, thus rendering the test impossible to finish successfully."

You and Eli shared a glance; the only person who truly understood how that was going to happen was Thrawn. He'd tried explaining numerous times but when it came to codes and tech, the two of you weren't able to fully keep up.

"We also know through your investigating," Thrawn motioned to you with what you thought was an impressed look, causing you to feel a little pride, "that the commander plans to only sabotage my test, believing it will be too suspicious if Eli also fails. He will also manipulate his false code to originate from the computer of his former lover Eva Carroway, who currently works in HR. So if an investigation does ensue, it will be traced to her and not him."

You and Eli chuckled under your breaths. It had been a little amusing when you'd discovered Commander Burdick was using this plan to not only undermine Thrawn, but also get revenge on his ex-girlfriend. But even more hilarious was how awkward Thrawn treated the subject. He had been quite perplexed to learn people could be so vindictive after a break-up. And any time he explained that detail of the plan, like he was doing now, he hesitated over his word choice. You couldn't tell if he only pretended to be confused about romantic relations, or if that was truly an area he found himself lost in.

If Thrawn noticed your snickering, he didn't respond to it, only continued to recap the plan. "We have also determined how we will expose the altered code naturally, so it does not cast suspicion on us... What was the word you used?"

"Backfire," said Eli.

"Yes. It would not due to have anyone suspect that we altered the test ourselves, or to have our concerns disregarded altogether. Thus, arranging for the maintenance crew to get a mild case of food poisoning so their performance checks are postponed to occur right before the tests will take care of that variable. At the least, they will fix the altered code and I will take the test as normal. At the most, they will report it and the commander faces expulsion."

"So..." said Eli through a yawn as he stretched. "What's left to work out, then?"

Now it was time for you and Thrawn to share a look.

"Were you not interested in involving your classmate, Arden Fey?" asked Thrawn in his soft, contemplative voice.

Eli shrugged. "Yeah. But Burdick's already got his scapegoat, his ex. So it'll be easier to keep him out of it. Whatever."

You could tell he was trying to be nonchalant. But just this morning, he had spent the entire walk between classes ranting about some new insults Arden had come up with, and how badly he wanted to show the guy up once and for all. You knew your friend wasn't feeling "whatever" about it.

"It's not a matter of ease or difficulty," Thrawn stated plainly. He had stopped pacing and was standing with hands behind his back, highlighting the broadness of his shoulders and the height of his stance. His presence seemed to fill up the whole room, and not for the first time, you were glad to be his friend and not his enemy.

"Yeah," you added in encouragement. "We just have to get creative. Find a way to make Arden a more appealing scapegoat than Burdick's ex. In fact...."

You trailed off as an idea occurred to you. You darted out of the room, surely leaving your two friends perplexed, but you would only be a second. You sprinted down the corridor toward the lifts, where a bulletin hung against the wall with fliers and pamphlets. One notice was a bit larger than the others, a promotion of an upcoming gala event to celebrate the Academy's anniversary. You ripped it off and went racing back to the boys' dorm room.

Eli had come down from the bunk and held a concerned look, probably prepared to follow you if you hadn't returned so quickly. Thrawn was still standing composed, but there was a curiosity in his eyes that made you smile.

You held up the poster in front of your chest. "What do you think the likelihood is of us playing successful matchmakers this week?"

Thrawn understood your idea almost immediately, looking down on you with a pleased smirk. It made you flush a little, to know the Chiss was impressed. You rarely had a chance to contribute good ideas when his mind worked so much faster than yours.

Eli caught on next, and he started to grin, the happiest you'd seen him in a while. His smile was infectious and you grinned back. Happy looked good on him.

"We know Eva's not shy with younger guys," you explained. "Before Burdick, she was fooling around with some intern in the med bay."

"And Arden's vain enough," added Eli. "If he thinks anyone's interested, he'll go for 'em."

"So we get him to ask her to the gala as his date...." you said.

"Burdick sees the two of them together...." said Eli.

"And realizes he can get back at his lover in another way, by pinning the sabotage on another student...." joined Thrawn.

The three of you stood together, proud and satisfied that yet another plan had finally worked out. It was almost worth the stressful studying and petty bullying and all the other unpleasant things you had to endure at this god-forsaken school, just to have fun moments like this with trusted friends.

"We should attend this gala as well," Thrawn said eventually, holding out a hand for the poster. He inspected it thoughtfully. "It is only a few days before the tests, so I hadn't planned to pay it any mind. But now...."

"Yeah, we should make sure Burdick's as jealous as we want 'im," nodded Eli.

You were secretly pleased. The plan was already a win-win, but now you would be able to go to the event yourself, too. You hadn't mentioned your desire to go to either of them before, figuring they weren't interested and not wanting to sound silly if you suggested it. But you did love dancing, and it was so very rare you got a chance to wear something other than your Imperial uniform.

"It's a dance," you noted, in case they couldn't tell by the details on the poster. "We'll need to go in pairs."

"I suppose it would make the most sense for you and Eli to go together," said Thrawn quietly.

You looked between the two, realizing both of them were flushed slightly. Eli's cheeks were dotted with pink, standing out amongst his dark brown features, while Thrawn had more of a purple tint to his face now, a color you'd never seen there before. You could feel yourself growing warm and uncomfortable as well. It was only a dance... only a way for you to enact a much more important plan... but it was the first time your trio had had to engage in anything other than platonic friendship. The balance of your group seemed to be shifting ever so slightly in this moment, and you had no way of knowing if it was for good or ill.

You cleared your throat, pushing away any feelings that might have been brewing in your chest, and instead calling focus back to the mission at hand.

"Actually, I think I'd better go with Thrawn. Whoever doesn't go with me would have to find their own date, and no offense Thrawn, but I think Eli has the better chance of asking someone else."

You hoped they hadn't noticed how hollow your voice sounded, how hard you were trying to keep yourself emotionless.

Eli was pinker than ever. "Uh, I highly doubt that..."

"You're not completely hated around here, you know," you said quickly. "Definitely not with the girls. You're not bad looking, you can be charming if you try, and you're... you know, human." You glanced at Thrawn and added again quietly, "No offense."

Thrawn shook his head. His color and demeanor had already slipped back into his usual neutral self. "No, I agree. Those are the dynamics of our peers and we must work with it. I will take you to the gala, Eli will find his own date, and all three of us will push Arden and Eva together as well. It's a good plan."

You all nodded in agreement. But there was a knot in your stomach, a nervousness you didn't quite understand. You cared very much for both Thrawn and Eli. They were your best friends, your only friends. As a group, you were bonded by your ostracism, protecting and supporting each other on your journey out of this hell-hole.

And separately, you had something special with each, too. You and Eli came from similar backgrounds, and had the same need to disconnect from your surroundings and just have a bit of fun every once in a while. The two of you had spent many late nights together, either hopping between bars, exploring the city, making each other laugh uncontrollably, or quietly sharing the honest thoughts you both buried far too deeply inside. Some nights you'd done all of the above, and returned to your dorm feeling both exhausted and renewed.

But Eli didn't always appreciate the finer things in life, and that's where you connected with Thrawn. He wasn't necessarily an optimist, but he had this way of noticing the beauty that existed everywhere around you, even in the most simple or mundane of moments. Everything had the potential to be interesting. His calm but strong presence had kept you grounded and sane throughout your studies here so far. Sometimes you would talk, other times you would simply be in the same space. And either way, you felt better about life.

You didn't exactly want your relationship with them to change. But you couldn't help but feel this gala would do just that....

Next Chapter: The Preparation >

Blueberry Path | Thrawn x reader

Cowboy Path | Eli x reader

[xbladekitkat85]

Why Clint is on Tony’s Sh*t List

Word count: A bit over 3k.

Chapter summary: Peter and Harley are brothers and the children of Tony Stark. Which is highly classified knowledge that nobody outside of the Avengers knows. Until Clint Barton accidentally spills the secret with a technology related mishap.

Warnings: A bit of language here and there. Tony threatening Clint’s life because he did an oopsie.

Peter's POV

In the school that is Midtown School of Science and Technology, everyone is basically a genius of some sort. You have biology geeks, math geeks, chemistry geeks, robotics geeks. You name a branch of STEM subjects, there are guaranteed to be at least 5 masters in every subject.

That being said, being a master in a subject doesn't mean that you would be instantly popular. Sure you might get hounded for homework help, but it doesn't mean you actually make friends as easily. It's more like people want to leech off of your knowledge and don't bother to get to know you.

There's a social pyramid in all schools and let's just say I'm towards the bottom of mine. I build Lego sets, I love Star Wars, I'm a whiz at chemistry and math. But people ignore the fact that I'm 'somewhat' intelligent and focus on the Lego and Star Wars part of my image. Which sucks big time. At least I'm graduating this year.

But at least I have my brother Harley to confide in. We argue over stupid stiff but we both enjoy poking fun at each other.

3rd person POV

Peter was sitting at his usual table with his small group of friends. Ned, MJ, and Betty made up this small group of people.

"So, what are you guys doing this weekend?" Ned asked the group.

"Uhhhh, I was planning on going to see that new movie coming out." Betty answered. "You know, the one with Emilia Clarke and what's his name."

"Oh yeah, I know which one you're talking about." Ned replied.

"You losers can go see a movie, I'm going to a protest outside of Oscorp." MJ replied, sipping her thermos of coffee.

"What did Oscorp do?" Peter asked curiously.

"They're trying to cover up an employee getting severely injured, the safety protocols are shitty, and HR is as usual, the worst part of it all in addition to the censorship of the incident online."

Peter nodded his head, eyes widened.

"Gotcha. I definitely understand why you're going."

MJ set her thermos down and opened her latest book, Speak.

Ned turned to look at Peter.

"Stark internship all weekend?" He inquired.

Peter shrugged and took a sip of water.

"I'm gonna hang out with Harley. Probably do some stuff in the lab. Usual stuff."

Betty shook her head in disbelief.

"I still can't believe you're friends with him." She said. "He's pretty high on the social ladder here. I mean I know you guys have the internship together but it's still kind of baffling that I never see you interacting in school."

Ohhhhh, if you only knew Betty. Peter laughed to himself on the inside.

Nobody at school knew that Peter and Harley were half brothers and the children of Tony Stark. Not even Ned or MJ knew although he suspected that MJ somehow knew or was close to figuring it out. She's scarily perceptive and freakishly good at knowing things about other people that she definitely shouldn't.

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch.

The four friends parted ways and headed to their respective classes.

*After school*

Peter arrived at the tower straight from Delmar's after picking up snacks for the weekend. He had grabbed an assortment, ranging from potato chips to pretzel M&Ms.  He waved at Ms. Maldonado, the lady who commanded the reception area and dashed to the elevator, scanning his pass when prompted.

FRIDAY greeted him when the doors closed.

"How was your day Peter? Harley is already waiting for you. He told me to tell you, and I quote, "Peter, I hope you remembered my PRETZEL M&Ms not PEANUT M&M's like last time. If you forgot, I'm going to steal that new Lego set you were planning on building tomorrow. And I WILL hide it somewhere you'll never, ever, find it. Insert maniacal cackling, blah blah blah."

Peter stifled a laugh at Harley's message.

"Uh, well my day was the usual, you know. And tell Harley I got his stupid M&Ms. And I grabbed him something else too if he promises not to threaten the Legos again."

"Sure thing, Peter."

He exited the elevator to the floor which housed the labs he shared with Harley. There were multiple as the duo tended to accidentally blow things up and would need to have another place to work while repairs were being done. Needless to say, Tony was more than a little annoyed that his kids needed multiple labs because they kept blowing them up. But whatever, he loves them and will pay for it as long as he gets to blackmail them with all the ridiculous stories of what blew up and how it happened.

Harley looked up towards the door Peter walked through and lifted his welding mask off his face.

"Hand over the merchandise, blockhead." He said, his arm stretched towards the bag of goodies Peter was carrying.

"Only if you promise to leave the Legos alone, biotch." He replied.

Harley rolled his eyes and dramatically lifted his hand in the air as if he was testifying in court.

"I promise not to touch the Legos." He said in a half joking tone.

Peter handed him the pack of M&Ms as well as a container of Oreos.

"I still don't understand why you like pretzel M&Ms." Peter remarked. "There's too much pretzel and not enough chocolate."

Harley stared directly at him as he tore open the M&Ms and popped a few in his mouth.

"I don't understand why you don't like pineapple on pizza." Harley shot back as he swiveled around in his chair

Peter groaned.

"We are not having this discussion again."

"Peter you're an idiot if you don't like pineapple on your pizza."

"Harley, you're a disgrace to the entire state of New York if you do. Fruit is not supposed to go on a proper pizza."

Harley chucked a bolt at Peter's head.

"Hey!" He protested as he turned to look at Harley. And then he saw a glint in Harley's eyes.

"Pizza is a dish with everything from the food pyramid. You have grain, dairy, meat, vegetables, fats, and oh, wait, you don't like pineapple so you're missing out. You could be getting every nutrient from the food pyramid but you're an idiot so you miss your daily serving of delicious pineapple on your pizza."

"Oh my god, stop."

The boys busted out laughing for a full 3 minutes, eventually with Harley falling out of his chair. Tony walked in to find his kids cackling at who knows what, and one on the floor, almost incapacitated by his laughter. He sighed before clearing his throat to gain their attention.

The boys sobered up and finally stopped laughing but they had unshed tears left from the fun.

"What on earth were you two dying of laughter over? Should I call a therapist? Do I need to be concerned? Did you eat something that you shouldn't have?"

Harley sniggered as Peter was trying to keep a straight face.

"He was eating pretzel M&Ms!" Peter said, holding back his laughter. "The type that should be illegal!"

"Peter, you don't diss Pretzel M&Ms, they're an underappreciated member of the M&Ms family. If you think pretzel M&Ms should be illegal, you clearly haven't tried the raspberry ones." Harley replied while doing his best to keep his face straight. "If anything, you should call a therapist for Peter and help him overcome his aversion to pineapple on pizza."

Tony looked even more lost than he was before.

"Ok, I don't know what I'm supposed to make of this. FRIDAY, show me footage of what the hell happened while I wasn't here."

"Sure thing boss."

Friday pulled up security footage of Harley and Peter's conversation. Tony watched it as the two teens were snickering behind him. After he understood the situation he turned to his kids and let out a tired sigh.

"Ok, I don't understand your sense of humor, but I came to tell you that we're having Italian for dinner."

Peter pumped his fist and Harley just shrugged.

"Italian is fine by me I guess."

"All right kiddos, be in the dining room by 7ish or else I'll cut the power to these labs. We eat as a family."

*Time skip*

It was 2 am, Monday morning and everything was silent except for the faint noise of shuffling towards the ceiling.

Clint Barton was crawling around in the vents, obviously on his way to do something he probably shouldn't be.

He had lost a bet with Nat earlier and the punishment was that he had to steal something for blackmail off of FRIDAY's databases.

He quietly dropped out of a vent shaft into an important looking office. He didn't bother checking who it belonged to but he was already too far gone to ask.

"Ok Nat, what do you want me to look for?" He whispered into his earpiece.

"Check the computer on the desk. The password is written on a sticky note in your pocket."

He checked his pocket and there was indeed a post it with a password on it.

"Ok, what am I supposed to find?" He asked once he logged in.

"Look for footage from the labs." She said. "Check labs CTS2 and IAI1."

"CTS2 and IAI1, gotcha." He reaffirmed.

He browsed around until he found the cameras he needed.

"Ok, found em. What dates should I look at?"

"Look at this past Friday," She answered, "around 4:45 to 6:15 pm. Tony drank from a can of motor oil instead of his coffee cup. I would like this footage in my posession. For my entertainment, and possibly blackmail to pull on him."

"All righty, ok, uhhhh." He muttered as he searched through that window of time.

He watched snippets of the footage and fast forwarded a few times until he glimpsed footage of Harley swiveling around in his chair as Peter looked exasperated. He paused and rewound to see what the situation was.

As Clint watched the whole argument play out and the aftermath, a shit eating grin began to spread across his face. He emailed himself the whole interaction for his own entertainment (blackmail, cough cough) and went back to searching for what he originally came for. He eventually found it, sent it to Natasha, logged out of the computer, and climbed into the open vent.

"You get it?" Nat asked suspiciously.

"Oh yeah, I got it." He said, trying to hold back the mischievous laughter that was threatening to let loose. He checked his phone to see whether he got the email he sent to himself. But to his surprise and sudden panic, it was not there. His social media, however, was blowing up with comments about the two kids and who they were and theories people were spouting.

"Oh shit."

"What did you do, Clinton?" Nat asked in a threateningly monotone voice.

Clint banged his head on the vent, forgetting that he still had his comms on.

"I may or may not have accidentally exposed Peter and Harley as Tony's kids."

Nat was silent for a moment before she finally responded.

"Tony's probably going to kill you for this, so you should pack your bags right now. Make funeral arrangements as well and update your will."

"Ah shit."

*Monday morning, 6:45 am*

Peter woke up to his phone ringing. He groaned and turned on his side to ignore the call. The phone rang again and he sighed before reluctantly sitting up and grabbing his phone.

What the hell, who's calling this early?

He looked at his notifications and saw multiple missed calls and texts from Ned and MJ. Something must have happened because Ned had typed in all caps, 'PETER EVERYONE KNOWS! CALL ME NOW!' MJ's text just said, 'I knew already. Don't try to hide it from me whenever you come to school.'

Instantly, Peter was wide awake. Did the whole world know he was Spiderman? But how did this happen, who would leak that information and how did they get it?

He called Ned and before he could even say, "What's up?" Ned butted in with a sentence he was not expecting.

"Peter, when were you going to tell me your dad was Tony Stark?! This is even bigger than Spiderman! As your Guy in the Chair, I think this knowledge might have been missing in our conversations."

Peter was at a loss for words as he stood up.

"It's all over social media and people are going apeshit over this!"

"Ned, you shouldn't believe everything you read on the internet." Peter replied in a nervous tone as he began pacing back and forth in his room. "How do you know the source is credible? Remember what Ms. Hernandez said about credibility when giving information in an essays or whatever?"

"But Peter, Hawkeye was the one who posted it. You know, the Avenger who shoots arrows?"

Peter stopped pacing and froze midstep.

Uncle Clint was behind this? But why?

"You sure he wasn't hacked?" Peter asked as he feebly attempted to get out of this confrontation.

"No, it's security footage from a lab. Tony said in the video that you guys were a family."

Peter then realized that he couldn't worm his way out of this situation. The whole world knew he and Harley were brothers and the sons of Tony Stark. Of course this happened, why wouldn't it?

"I'm going to call you back, I need to talk to Clint." Peter said.

"Ok, just let me know if you and Harley are going to be ok or not." Ned replied.

"Bye Ned."

"Bye."

Peter hung up and took a deep breath before leaving his room to go find Clint.

He entered the kitchen and almost everyone was there except the one person he wanted to talk to.

"Hey, uh, where's uncle Clint?" Peter asked.

Uncle Steve looked up from his breakfast.

"He left last night. Family emergency."

"Uh huh, so correct me if I'm wrong but Clint left because dad was going to kill him, right?"

Suddenly everyone was avoiding eye contact with Peter. Yup, everyone knew what happened.

Just then, Tony walked in with a very irritated expression.

"I don't think you and Harley are going to be able to go to school today. Some kid from your school, Dash or something posted you go to school with him and know you both. So there are multiple news stations outside the tower and surrounding your school. Might be best to just stay home today."

"Is Uncle Clint still alive?" Harley asked as he walked in, yawning.

"He is alive," Tony responded "Not for much longer though."

"Dad, you can't just kill him." Peter protested. "It's not like he actually did anything that warrants his death."

"I don't think he meant to do it." Harley added. "He deleted it maybe 10 minutes after he posted it but other people recorded it on their own devices and re shared it. He probably realized what he had done and tried to delete it but of course, once it's out there, it's out there."

"Don't kill Uncle Clint, he's got a wife and kids. Besides, we need him on the team." Peter said.

"We don't need Clint," Tony said, waving his hand. "I already got a replacement set up."

Peter had not heard of this new team member that was apparently going to replace Clint.

"Who is it?" Harley asked curiously.

"Kate Bishop. She's already on her way here. Clint trained her to take over the mantle of Hawkeye anyway so it shouldn't be that big a deal." Tony shrugged. "She's a bit older than you two, 18 or 19, I can't remember at the moment."

"Ok, then, as long as she's trusted by you." Peter relented.

"Don't know what she might be like, but if Clint trained her, and they share similar personalities, whatever spirits above help us." Harley said solemnly.

Peter smacked Harley's arm.

"Hey!" He complained.

"She's not even here yet and you are badmouthing her already. Have some manners, dude."

"It doesn't matter at the moment right? You said it yourself, she's not here yet and I will 'have some manners' when she does."

All of a sudden, Peter heard a nearly imperceptible shuffling coming from above. He felt a shiver go down his spine and the instinct to get into a defensive position.

"He's right, you should have some manners young man." An unfamiliar voice boomed from above.

Harley looked around wildly in confusion.

"Who's there?! Are you a spirit from above???" He asked.

All of a sudden, a figure dropped out of the vent directly above Harley and tackled him to the ground.

"And that is Kate Bishop." Tony said, answering the question in everyone's mind.

Kate released Harley from her grip and she helped him up.

"Clint was right," She said, smiling. "Crawling through the vents to prank people is fun."

She looked up to the open vent and held out her arms, to everyone's confusion.

"Lucky, come on down!" She called.

To everyone's shock, a dog with one good eye poked his head out from the vent and jumped into Kate's arms.

"Oh crap, nobody has allergies to dog dander, right?" Kate asked, looking at everyone.

"Maybe? I'm not sure." Peter replied.

"Damn, I should have checked before bringing him, huh." Kate muttered.

Tony waved his hand at the dog.

"As long as he's potty trained, we should be fine." He said, trying to reassure her worries. "We're all fine with dogs."

Peter thought back to all the dogs he's pet on patrol. They always seemed happy to play with him and now there was a dog in the tower. Huzzah, he didn't get to only pet dogs on patrol now!

"Well, all's well that ends well, right?" Peter said.

"How about everyone gets acquainted with Kate?" Tony suggested. "It's not like you two are going to school today anyway."

Peter and Harley agreed and that day became a get to know the new team member day.

Peter texted Ned to let him know he was going to school the next day and invited him to the tower after school to meet someone. Oh the look on Ned's face when he found out would be priceless.

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[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap: Chapter 1

I’m back, again, hopefully a bit more consistently. This time returning to the world of Anna Swift with a story that’s been an idea for almost 2 years but couldn’t quite come together.  No resus in this part, just setting up the scene, but I hope you enjoy.

----------

Shona dragged her large suitcase up the ramp and onto the lower deck of the old water taxi. It had become almost like an old friend to her over the last few years, the point of seperation between home and college. She turned and waved to her parents, who stood back on the quay, watching thier daughter leave for the last semester of her college life. In truth she wasn't going all that far. Only a dozen or so miles as the crow flies, and within the limits of the same greater city area. But while the city had grown and expanded to absorb her old home town as a mere suburb, the city's transport links had not kept pace. While the rail network ran along each side of the river, it didn't cross at this end of the city. There were plans for new bridges, but they never materialised. And so, instead of taking a 3 hour trip on the city metro, Shona would take the trusty water taxi that had been crossing the river back and forth for as long as her mother remembered, and be at her dorm within 40 minutes.

A good idea really, she thought, pulling on the suitcase behind her, trying to get it rolling again. She cursed internally at her professors for giving them so much work over the spring break, the suitcase weighed down with what felt like half a library. A gust of cold wind blasted her face, and she thought of another curse, this one at the northern climate. To many, spring break was about running around on beaches nearly naked having parties and getting tanned. To say it would not be advisable here was an understatement. This far north, winter was still clinging on, to the point where snow lay on the ground just a few weeks ago.

Shona pulled her scarf up a little further as she dragged the suitcase toward the door at the rear of the cabin, where luggage could be stowed out of the way. She pushed it open then spun to grip the suitcase handle with both hands and haul it over the small threshold, staggering back a little as the wheels finally rocked over. A gust of wind sucked the door closed with a loud bang and shone flinched, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. Like public transport in most cities, no one so much as glanced at her.

She ducked into the luggage area, and her heart sank. All the lower shelves were full. She walked over, wondering just how she was going to stow the case. She vaguely heard the door behind her, then the sound of rolling wheels that approached and stopped beside her.

"Erm, would you like a hand?" A male voice said. Shone turned to him. He was young, maybe a similar age to herself, with black hair in that intentionally messy style. He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Not infering anything about the strength of your gender...You just looked... and I need to..." He glanced at his own case, similar sized to hers.

Shona shook her head "Sorry, yes that would be great." She smiled. "We can each lift half." She commented, prompting a grin from the young man. Together they lifted her bag. Well, Shona steadied it at least.

"Student?" The young man asked, with a slight pant from the effort. Shona nodded, and opened her mouth to reply. "Wait, let me try and guess. Your on this taxi, so you must be studying at Central. That amount of books, over spring break no less, narrows it down. Medical students are already back, my roomate's doing Chem and says all the natural sciences work is based on their own labs now. And, I haven't seen you in any of my classes or on my floor of the library, so by process of elimination I'm going to say... History."

"Impressive." Shona told him with a grin. "You must be studying literature." She grinned at his shocked face. "My roommate is in that course. She can almost quote the entire works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle at this point, and she told me that almost everyone goes through a Sherlock phase in that course."

He chuckles. "Well played. I must know the name of the lady who bested me." He said, with a mock bow.

Shona couldn't help but chuckle too, though it was drowned out by the horn of the water taxi, as it gave it's last call. Shona felt the familiar rumble as the engine got into gear and began to ramp up in power. "Shona. Shona Smith-Carlson. Yes it's double barrelled. Ardent Feminist of a mother refused to give up her maiden name."

"Well theres nothing wrong with that. Though by the look on your face you aren't too happy it."

"It's not that," Shona shrugs. "She just never shuts up about it. Still loves dad though." She trails off, the silence starting to become awkward. "What about you?" She re-directs. "I'm guessing your name isn't actually Sherlock."

He smiles. "Jack Davidson. Not literally, My dad's actually called Mark."

"You must have practiced that line." Shona said, trying not to laugh at the perfect delivery.

"Maybe once or twice, but it's a good ice breaker, don't you think?"  He replied with another dazzling smile.

It was a nice smile. The boat jerked slightly as it left the quay and started its journey across the river. Shona rocked a little, Jacks arm moved, lifting a little, not quite reaching out, but ready to steady her if she had stumbled, and Shona suddenly realised he was flirting. Why did this always happen? She fought to not roll her eyes. Her girlfriend was going to rib her again. She would have to let him down gently. She took off her scarf, wrapping it and putting it into one pocket, and then unzipped her coat. She caught his eyes flick down as all men’s do, then slightly to one side, catching sight of the rainbow badge.

He blew out a breath, then nodded with a wry grin. "That's a good move. I am out played once again. Though I suppose we aren't quite playing the same game are we."

Shona shrugged. "Sorry." She mumbled.

Jack waved his hand. "Don't be. Not like you can change who you are. How about we get my bag stowed and then we grab a coffee on the upper deck?" Shona looked at him, puzzled. "Your roommate. From what you were saying she's a year ahead of me. A bit of early information is always good."

Shona considered it for a moment. He wasn't being pushy or angry like one of those guys. And she was planning on getting a coffee. So she shrugged. "Why not, company is always nice."

Together they lifted Jack's case, a little lighter than her own, and placed it in the rack. But as he was checking it was secure, Shona felt a rumble. A different rumble, one that she had never felt before on over two dozen journeys. If she'd been outside, she would have seen a plume of black smoke rise out the tall exhaust stack. If she'd been in the cabin that qualified as the bridge of the boat, she'd have heard voices filled with panic as alarms squarked.

Shona and Jack started up the stairs in front of the luggage compartment, when there was another rumble, and a strange noise filled the passenger cabin as the whole ship vibrated. Shona stopped halfway up the stairs, looking behind her. Jack turned to her, three steps higher up.

"What is it?" He asked

Shona shook her head "The boat. Somethings wr..."

 Her voice was totally drowned out by the noise of the engine exploding.

**********

Officer Matt Jones sat on the small river patrol boat, bobbing slightly against it's mooring. He glanced at his watch. Just another 7 hours and 50 minutes of his 8 hour shift. He sighed, feeling that boiling anger as he rembered getting busted down to river patrol. Not even standard beat cop, river patrol. In March, in this city, where even the foolish wouldn't think of getting in the river. Only the desperate. But this section of the river didn't even have any bridges, ruling that out too.

"So..." The old timer, Winston, who was now his partner muttered. "Who did you piss off to land yourself here?"

Jones breathed out slowly, sending the anger with it. "You know Dean Campbell?"

"The head of HR Dean Campbell?" Jones nodded, Winston whistled. "What did you do?"

"I may have pointed out that he was... inadequate for the position. In somewhat more forceful terms. To his face..."

Winston spat into the river. "That would do it. Not that you are wrong of course, that little weasel has done nothing but damage to the department, but, not exactly the wisest decision.

Jones nodded. "What about you?"

"I asked to be here." Winston replied, prompting a look from Jones. "Coming up on retirement. The last thing I wanted was to be that stereotype. Always liked fishing, figured I'd get some boat time and avoid anything likely to finish me off before my service is done."

"That's fair enough I guess." Jones told him, sipping at the coffee, watching the old water taxi make it's way across the river. He noticed the black smoke, but thought nothing of it. "Does anything interesting happen here?"

"Wouldn't have picked this spot if it did." Winston replied. "Occasionally that floating wreck needs a hand when it breaks, but that's about it." He says turning to look. "Speking of which, that exhaust don't look too healthy." He said a moment before the radio squarked, lighting up an indicator on the emergency channel.

"This is the Beetle, may-day, may-day, our engine is...." The radio cut off as a gout of thick black smoke burst from the exhaust tube, and the distant boat seemed to lurch. A split second later the sound wave of the explosion reached them.

"Get us moving!" Jones shouted to Winston, as he grabbed at his own radio. "This is officer Jones, Badge number 4582. We have a major incident in progress on the river between....between..."

"Between North Inglebank and Trippers point!" Winston shouted.

"Between North Inglebank and Trippers point. Explosion on a water taxi, we are en-route, unknown casualties, unknown situation, requesting additional backup for evacuation and medical assistance!"

"Acknowledged Officer Jones. Relaying now."

Winston had gotten the speed boat unmoored, tossing a high-vis life jacket to Jones, before he gunned the motor and they began to cut through the waves, heading for the vessel that was now smoking from more than just the exhaust.

(Edit: Fixed some errors and details. A little out of practice.)

[svtxsoju]

01. crush that hangover! | dear miss soju

ღ Synopsis: College is hard. Love is even harder. Good thing the students of Mansae University can write in to Miss Soju, the campus’ very own romance advice columnist! The only problem is she’s never been in a relationship. Ever. There’s no telling what kind of chaos she may cause in the love lives of several of MU’s most eligible bachelors. Too bad no one knows who she really is!  ღ Characters/Pairings: college AU! Seventeen & OC’s, Pairings TBA! ღ Genre: Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life ღ Warning(s): Mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, mentions of sex, language, bad jokes ღ Word Count: 5.0k words  ღ Binu’s Note: ever stare at a selfie so long that it looks weird? ya that’s this chapter for me. there were just so many elements that i wanted to get right, but i kept changing things and now i can’t look at it anymore :c i’ll properly proofread it later, but for now enjoy!! i have some other content ima post later so i’m p excited for that hehehe anyway ya happy friday!!! 

《 ⊛ Author’s Note & Credits ⊛ Disclaimer ⊛ Masterlist ⊛ 》

《 Previous ⊛ Next 》

Monday, September 2, 2019 9:05AM

This was not how Joohyun had imagined her first day at The Front. Whenever she described this moment to Jihoon, she was very clear about the way she would walk in so confidently that the senior writers would wonder why they forgot to email her an invite to their 8:30 meeting. Jihoon, who relished in raining on her parade, predicted that they wouldn’t even know her name. But she had no time for his blunt realism, because she had been living as a made-up person since June and her corporate daydreams were the only things keeping her sane. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but she figured that once they saw her talent, everything would be just fine.

So it’s not difficult to imagine Joohyun’s distress when she just barely stumbled into the office this morning, nursing a mind-melting hangover. 

She should have known she would be a goner when the sports section interns had challenged her to a drinking game at last night’s welcome party. Her drinking partner, a small girl interning at HR, had only made it two shots in before falling asleep on her lap. For the record, she had still made sure that she was the last intern standing (although she definitely wasn’t the same bright-eyed freshman that could chug a pitcher of soju and beer just to spite Jihoon). Looking around the office, she felt a little relieved to find that the other interns were suffering just as much as her, if their slumped positions and pained groans told her anything. So much for giving a good first impression.

Joohyun was trying her best not to look like she was two steps from an early grave when she was approached by a big woman with a laptop in her arms. She awkwardly bowed her head to greet her, but the woman’s gaze never left the screen of her Macbook. “Miss… Joonyoung?”

“Oh, that’s not--” 

“You’re the new advice column intern, correct?” 

“Oh. Yes, that’s me, but that’s not my--” 

“I’ll show you to your desk.” Without so much as a glance, the woman turned on her heel, now typing furiously on her laptop. Joohyun followed behind glumly.

This was all Jihoon’s fault. 

“So, how’s your first day going?” Jihoon asked over his bowl of ramen. He flagged down the tall waiter and ordered a bowl of rice.

“Fine,” was Joohyun’s curt answer. In truth, it was far from ideal. She had watched longingly as all the other interns were assigned with their first projects, while she was left with an empty inbox. How was she supposed to write an advice column when there was no one asking her for advice? She spent most of the morning familiarizing herself with the previous entries of The Front’s dating advice column, the most recent of which dated to the newspaper’s May issue… from 1997. 

When her supervisor told her to take a lunch break, she had made a beeline to meet Jihoon at the restaurant near the cafe he worked at. Now that she was sitting in front of him though, she wasn’t quite ready to confess that her dream job was much more mundane than she expected. “Hey, wasn’t this a fried chicken shop last semester?” 

“That bad, huh?” Jihoon clicked his tongue. Joohyun sighed - she didn’t know why she even tried to hide anything from him when he’s known her for 12 years. He probably knew some parts of her better than she did. “Come on Joo, don’t give up on Miss Soju so easily. It’s just because you’re a little hungover. We watched The Notebook like five times this summer! What more do you need to know about true love? Do you want me to set you up on another date with that freakishly tall dude for more hands-on experience? Ah, speak of the devil!” 

“Thanks, Mingyu.” Joohyun took the bowl of rice and gave the server a sweet smile, which greatly contrasted with the glare she shot at Jihoon soon after. The server, a stunning boy with jet-black hair and tanned skin, stuck his tongue out at Jihoon. She waited until Mingyu went to the other side of the restaurant to serve a rowdy group of boys to whisper-shout at Jihoon. “Can you try not to expose my identity to the whole campus before I even get the chance to write my first ever entry?” 

“Ohhh, that’s why you’re sulking. No one’s sent you a letter yet so you didn’t get to do anything today,” Jihoon said. It sometimes got annoying how he could read her like she was his worn-out copy of his favorite sports manga.  She had to admit though, he did find ways to make it worth it. Like when he said, “I might actually be able to help you with that one, if you want. I can make a little shout out for Miss Soju on my stream tonight. For a small price, of course.” 

“You’re streaming tonight?” The girl perked up from poking at her noodles. Over the past three years, Jihoon had built up a cult following through Woozi’s Universe, a Twitch stream where he shared music made by the underground artists on campus (including him). He only ever released new music on Mondays, so tonight would definitely have a large viewership. Joohyun immediately went into her business pose lest she show how eager she really was. “Well, what would you like in exchange, Mr. Lee?” 

“I merely request that you pay for my lunch today, Ms. So,” he replied. Joohyun looked in horror at Jihoon, a petite man who ate like he was three boys going through puberty; today alone he had had an extra-large bowl of ramen, three orders of rice, and two cans of Coke. 

Then, she imagined facing an empty inbox for the rest of the week. Yup, this was  definitely worth it. That didn’t stop her from making a show of taking out her wallet, taking care to sigh extra  loudly. She had to give Jihoon his moment to revel in his triumphs, otherwise he would get grumpy. 

Jihoon cackled giddily. “Pleasure doing business with you as always, Ms. So.” 

“Pretty sure my hangover is coming back.”

“Oh shit, shut up!” Jihoon suddenly yelped and ducked underneath the table.

“What the hell, Jih--” 

“No, don’t say my name! He might hear you and then I’ll have to talk to him,” Jihoon whispered, jerking his head towards a bright yellow blur skipping to the back of the restaurant. “He’s one of my fans. He found out I worked at the cafe and now he keeps coming in to talk to about how sad his sex life is.”

Joohyun pursed her lips and peeked a glance over. He had joined the table of rowdy boys.  “Hmm, maybe I should say hi... he seems like a potential Miss Soju reader.” 

“Just pay the check already, woman!” 

The new interns at The Front were not the only students sporting hangovers that day. This can only be expected of the second week back at MU. Sunday night had been the explosive finale of a full week of department welcome parties, happy reunions, and lots and lots of alcohol. Some of the incoming freshmen were convinced that Mansae University was not actually a school, but a training ground for surviving as many shots of soju as physically possible. That is until they woke up on Monday morning and still had to drag themselves to their 9AM’s, suddenly faced with the reality of what college really was: an endless cycle of perpetual hangovers and school work that’s due way too soon. 

This was all good news for the new ramen shop on campus, which had been serving the hoards of hungover zombies since 10AM. Vernon, who was in great pain from the night before, had been ambushed by his roommate after his morning class. He was brought to the restaurant under the pretense of curing his woes with a bowl of warm soup and noodles. When he caught sight of a man in red waiting for them at a back table though, he immediately knew what was actually coming. 

“Hello Vernonnie,” Seungcheol greeted him with a sly smile. “Care to take a seat next to me?”

“Uh, not really,” Vernon mumbled, but he sat down anyway. He scrunched his nose at his roommate as the boy slumped into the seat in front of him. “Traitor.”

“Sorry babe, Seungcheol hyung promised me free lunch. Also, you’re one to talk, after you abandoned me to fend for myself last night--! Ugh,” his roommate, Seungkwan, clutched at his head, where a rusty hammer persistently tapped away at his temple. “Hyung, why did you do this to me? My face is gonna be bloated for the rest of the week. I have an audition in two days, you know!” 

“Hey, I did ask you if you were sure you wanted-- what was that you ordered? Oh yeah-- ‘the strongest drink that is legal to serve in South Korea’!” Seungcheol said, his eyes wide. As he got more defensive, he began to point his finger excessively at Seungkwan. “And what was it all for? To impress your new crush?” 

“I am way too hungover to get lectured by a couple of hypocrites,” Seungkwan grumbled. “I was trying to get some inspiration, you know, a drunken spark of genius! How else am I supposed to figure out how to confess to them?”

“Okay, I wasn’t actually asking,” Seungcheol ignored Seungkwan’s offended gasp in favor of turning his attention to a fidgeting Vernon. His cherry red lips now returned to its wide grin. “I am here to discuss where our dearest Vernon went off to last night.” 

“Um.” Vernon answered with a nervous smile. “I just went home early--”

“Bullshit!” Seungkwan looked absolutely scandalized. “It wasn’t enough to abandon me, so now you’re lying too? I don’t know if I can take much more of this!” 

Vernon had only officially known Seungkwan for two whole weeks, but with the way the two had been inseparable since move-in day, everyone at the freshmen dorms had assumed that they had known each other for years and years. He knew that someone like Boo Seungkwan was a rare find as far as random dorm assignments went, and that not everyone was so lucky to have a roommate that reminds them to eat real food once in a while or a friend who’s willing to take care of them when they get their first real hangover. Just for that day alone, Vernon knew that Seungkwan deserved to know where he went. Plus he shared a room with him, so it’s not like he could hide anything anyway.

Seungcheol shook his head and slung an arm around Vernon’s shoulder. His grip wasn’t tight but firm enough that Vernon knew he was trapped there until he confessed the truth. “Look, I don’t need any details! I just wanted to make sure that you’re staying safe and all that junk. Also, I would like to know what base you got to.” He erupted into a fit of giggles, but soon cleared his throat to return to his investigation. “Really though, tell us what happened.” 

It wasn’t like Vernon didn’t want to tell Seungcheol either. Vernon’s and Seungcheol’s families had known each other since the two boys were in middle and high school, and when he found out that Seungcheol would be a senior at Mansae University that year, he felt some of his nerves ease up about moving out. Seungcheol had always been like an older brother to him, and was always there when he needed his help in high school. He trusted him! 

That’s probably why he subconsciously blamed Seungcheol for the pain he was going through at the moment. When the upperclassman had offered to sneak Vernon and Seungkwan into a party at the karaoke bar that he bartended at, the two freshmen all too eagerly accepted without thinking of any consequences. They had received no pointers, no words of caution. How were they supposed to know that bar parties were completely different from welcome dinners? And how was Seungkwan supposed to know that downing so many cocktails within the hour wasn’t a good idea? Most importantly, how was Vernon supposed to know that he would meet someone like her there? Vernon groaned into his hands as he could no longer resist the flood of memories from the night before, and leaned into Seungcheol’s shoulder as he tried to recoil from his past self. “Hyung, it hurts too much to say out loud.”

“It’s okay buddy, take your time,” Seungcheol patted his head gently and called the tall server over. Vernon continued to let out unintelligible noises of regret while the senior ordered bowls for all three of them. “How are you even hungover right now? I only remember giving you one drink last night before you went off with--”

“I’m not hungover.”

“Oh. Then what are you?”

“An idiot,” Vernon mumbled through his fingers. “A big, cringy idiot.” 

Seungkwan raised his hand, looking frantically between the two boys. “Excuse me? Did I miss the reading homework? Went off with who? Last night? What? How drunk was I?!” 

“Very drunk, but that’s not why you didn’t notice Vernon’s new friend. You were a little occupied with your own conquest,” Seungcheol stage-whispered from across the table. “Honestly, you two are wild. It’s only two weeks into fall semester and you’re already out here simping.”

“Um, and? I saw you making googly eyes at several ladies last night!” The higher Seungkwan’s voice rose, the harder the rusty hammer banged inside his head. “Ow.”

“Those were just my friends who happened to be ladies! Sorry that my eyes are just naturally soft and alluring,” Seungcheol said, batting his long, dark lashes at the boy. “What were her eyes like, Vernon? I only noticed that she had a nose ring. Couldn’t really see her properly while you two were ‘talking’ in the corner...” 

“The corner! A nose ring!” Seungkwan repeated and clutched at his chest. “Tell me more.” 

“We were just talking!” Vernon finally spoke, his face stuck in an embarrassed grimace. “There’s not really much more to tell. I just know that she’s the coolest girl I’ve ever met and I’ll never meet anyone like her again.”

“What! You two were talking for like two hours! And I saw you leaving with her!” Seungcheol said a little too loudly for Vernon’s liking. The server gingerly approached their table with their orders, setting the bowls down as quickly as possible before rushing away. Vernon noted to give him a big tip when they left. “Don’t tell us that’s all.”

“I just dropped her off at her apartment and went back to the dorms,” Vernon confirmed to Seungcheol’s horror. “I really didn’t want it to be just last night.”

“So... you asked her out?” 

“No.”

“You got her number?”

“No.”

“Her Instagram? Her Twitter? Her student ID number? Do you even know her name?” 

“I already said I was an idiot,” Vernon whined. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about it. But yes, I did at least get her name.”

It was the only thing he could think of since he woke up. She was the only thing he could think of since he woke up. The way her eyes had lit up while they talked about her major. The way her lips had curved into a clever smile when she told a joke. The way her small hand had fit in his as they walked to her apartment. Then, he would remember how he completely fucked it all up before he started, and his headache would return full-force. 

“Dude.” Seungcheol fixed him with a stern stare, but it was kind of hard to take him seriously when his mouth was full of noodles. “Have you never asked a girl out before?”

“You know I have! I don’t know what happened either, okay? I guess I just froze up when she looked at me… then I just went home after telling her good night.”

Seungcheol feigned a gag. “Gross. I was joking earlier, but you’re an actual simp. Hate to break it to you like this.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” Seungkwan piped up from where he comfortably rested his head on the table.

“That’s nice, Seungkwan, but ‘sweet’ isn’t gonna get either of you laid,” Seungcheol chuckled. “Vernon, your girl was clearly waiting for you to make the next move. Trust me, girls don’t just ask anyone to walk them home.”

“I didn’t want to look like a creep!” Vernon sullenly stared down at his untouched bowl of noodles. “What am I supposed to do now, hyung?”

“Yeah, lend us your wisdom, O Alluring One,” Seungkwan chanted. “You clearly have plenty of experience from the past three years. 

“Like I said, I just have a lot of friends,” Seungcheol shrugged, then suddenly checked the time on his phone. “Oh shit--  speaking of friends, I have to meet one for a study session at her apartment in 15 minutes.”

“Sounds nasty.”

“Your mom’s nasty,” Seungcheol retorted with a provocative smile. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Boo! Then maybe you’d be able to think of how to confess.”

“Uncalled for!”

He placed several bills on the table and checked his phone again. “This should be enough to cover lunch, kiddos. I wish I could help you two, but I’m booked for the rest of the day. And the week.”

“But what if I meet her again?” Vernon asked desperately. 

“Then text me! I might not reply right away though. I’ve got two classes later and then I have dinner plans--”

“Another girl I presume--”

“Shut up! I also have to go to the gym before doing… uh, doing a thing. And then I have a shift at 24H.” Seungcheol stood up and looked at the distressed boys before him, his soft eyes more affectionate than alluring. Was he like this as a freshman? He reached over to ruffle the freshmans' heads. “You two should probably leave soon, too. I’ll see y’all later!” 

And just like that, Seungcheol was gone, and Vernon was once again left without any advice from the senior. Vernon was never one for dramatics, but his personal failures felt like a gray cloud of shame hanging over him. He began to worry that he was just gonna have to live like this forever, because nothing in the world was bright enough to break through his doom and gloom (well, her smile probably could, but Vernon was never going to see that again). The fact that Seungkwan seemed like he was about to Train to Busan his ass any minute now didn’t really lift his spirits either.

Lucky for him, the universe was not going to let him give up so easily. At that moment, a boy with glaringly yellow hair and a heavy camera on his shoulder bursted through the entrance. His smile brightened when he spotted the two boys in the back and he didn’t hesitate to bound towards them, skipping right past the server welcoming him in. “Seungkwan! I knew I’d find you here.”

“Dearest Vernon, it seems we have been joined by the lovely Soonyoung hyung. Perhaps he might know the medicine we require to ease our ailments in love,” Seungkwan suddenly stood up, all signs of his hangover expertly hidden. He smiled directly into the camera lens. “Hyung, would you kindly share your wisdom with us lowly freshmen? Pray tell, how does one woo the object of their affection?”

Vernon, who was well-acquainted with Seungkwan’s antics by then, watched on in silent amusement. If anything could distract him from his internal turmoil for a moment, it was Seungkwan; even if he was just spewing nonsense. What really made him crack up though, was the way Soonyoung (that was his name, right?) was clearly trying very hard to suppress his giggles. “Um,” Soonyoung managed to  cut in breathlessly. “You know I’m not rolling, right? Also, I didn’t understand any of the words that just left your mouth, but it definitely felt like you were putting some sort of ancient curse on me. Hi, I’m Soonyoung by the way!”

Vernon introduced himself and shook Soonyoung’s hand. Seungkwan could only sigh in exasperation at Soonyoung’s lack of culture (not that he was surprised of course). The boy apparently thought it was a good fashion choice to leave his apartment wearing a tiger print button-up. “I was  asking if you could help us out with confessing to our crushes,” Seungkwan said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Ohh, that’s what you said!” Soonyoung laughed until he was keeled over, clutching his stomach. Vernon and Seungkwan could only watch him with great expectation. When the boy finally caught his breath and wiped the sweat from his brow, he gave the boys a very serious look. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten any since January. So you should probably ask someone else.” 

This also did not surprise Seungkwan. 

“Excuse me?” The tall server approached them again, clearly giving them his best ‘I hate working in retail’ smile. “If y’all are done eating, could you please leave? You’re disturbing the other customers.” 

“I’m eating, I’m eating!” Soonyoung smiled until his cheeks reached his eyes, a power move that he saves for occasions where he found himself in trouble, which happened more often than he’d care to admit. Once the server let them be, muttering something about not getting paid enough, Soonyoung turned his killing smile onto the two boys. “Can I have some of this? I can Venmo y’all later, I’m pretty broke right now.” 

Vernon pushed his uneaten ramen towards Soonyoung, who looked at him as if he was the sun itself. The boy carefully set down his film camera and immediately began slurping away. Vernon nodded his head towards the contraption and asked why he was carrying it around.

 “Oh, I rented it before coming to find Seungkwan. I’m thinking about making him the subject of my film project this semester, since the theater program is pretty buzzed that he’s joining this year!” Soonyoung patted the camera affectionately.

“‘Thinking about?’ I thought I was your final choice!” Seungkwan blurted. The ramen he had for lunch seemed to have finally restored some of his strength, because he no longer clutched at his temple when his voice rose.

“I said ‘most likely’ choice! I just want to keep my options open,” Soonyoung responded with great care. He didn’t want to hurt Seungkwan’s feelings, but he was definitely re-evaluating alternate subjects at the moment.  “It’s only the second week!”

“This is why you’re single,” the theater major said in a huff. “Lack of commitment!”

“Hey! I am perfectly capable of commitment. It’s the girls that don’t want to commit, ” Soonyoung said in a small voice, and looked off into the distance wistfully. “I really hope Woozi does put out a new song tonight. Maybe he’ll tweet something soon.” 

“Woozi? Who’s that?” Vernon asked. At this point, he was just looking for anything that would fend off his memories, which lingered at the edges of his mind and waited for moments of silence to bring him another fresh glass of cringe. He was pretty sure that he had experienced well above the recommended daily serving. 

“Oh, he’s a Twitch streamer from MU! I was actually gonna say if you two are really struggling in the love department, you should definitely check out his stream tonight.” Soonyoung nearly wiggled with enthusiasm. “He usually promotes songs from artists around the area, but his self-composed songs are my personal favorites. They’ve been what’s getting me through this dry spell, honestly.”

“Oh, that sounds pretty cool.” It sounded like it was right up Vernon’s alley, actually. 

Soonyoung nodded. “You listen to them and you just feel hopeful to find the kind of love he sings about. I’ll send you the link later!” 

“Underground artists? No thanks, I think I’ll stick to Eva Noblezada,” Seungkwan scoffed. “I don’t really think a stranger can help me with my problems. They don’t even know me.” 

“Oh come on, Kwan. Let’s just give it a shot!”

Even after all his grumbling, Seungkwan still sat beside Vernon at one of the desks in their dorm later that night. They had opened the link Soonyoung had sent them, and munched on some snacks while they waited for the stream to start up. Vernon waited with baited breath for his distraction to begin; he had spent most of the day attempting to wall off any thoughts of her or last night, but it was kind of difficult to think of anything else when all of his professors only droned on and on about quizzes and homework. 

When a boy with fair skin and burgundy hair came into frame, he nearly sighed in relief. The streamer appeared to be sitting in a small, dark office only illuminated by his computer screen and several pink neon signs that hung on the walls. Vernon could recognize the faint outlines of several guitars and a keyboard behind him. The boy clicked around for a while as more people joined the stream before finally waving into the camera. 

“Hi guys, welcome in! Thanks for joining Woozi’s Universe. If you’re new here, I’m Woozi and I like to write songs sometimes. If you’re an old subscriber, I’m really sorry for the long wait.  I’ve been working on a lot of projects, doing some collabs - I’ll actually be releasing one of those collabs tonight and I’m really excited for you guys to hear it. If you have any new songs you want to listen to together, go ahead and leave them in the chat!”

As soon as the stream started flowing, Vernon immediately knew why Soonyoung gave Woozi such rave reviews. The guy just had good vibes and he definitely knew his music. Vernon was hooked. Even Seungkwan, try as he might to look disinterested, couldn’t help bopping his head occasionally.

“Thanks for the subscription @chweinggum! You just helped me reach my tenth new sub for tonight, and you guys know what that means. Time for the new song! It was really fun to write this with my collaborator, so we really hope you like it!” 

After spending the past hour just vibing in Woozi’s Universe, discovering new songs and artists, Vernon had really hyped himself up to hear the streamer’s personal work. If Soonyoung’s words were true, this would be the song that would truly heal his heartache, the song that would push him to forget about the whole ordeal. He listened in anticipation as pleasant harmonies played through his laptop speakers. But as the song progressed, Vernon did not quite feel the reprieve he was hoping for. In fact, he was kind of taken aback. The lyrics… felt like they told his story. Maybe not word for word, but enough to make Vernon stare at the laptop screen with his mouth open. What kind of hocus pocus, That’s So Raven, mind reading shit was this? The song broke down the walls he had tried to build throughout the day and left him vulnerable to its strangely upbeat and energetic tune. 

He had to admit that he didn’t hate it. The cringe from his own actions did not disappear, but the song helped him focus more on the moments that made his heart flutter, the moments that incited those pesky butterflies in his stomach. They were the moments that made him so hard on himself in the first place and the reasons why it hurt so much that he messed up. She had made him feel seen. She had done everything right. And all he wanted to do was to show her that he saw her too. He just had to figure out how. 

Woozi clapped his hands loudly when the song came to an end, bringing Vernon out of his deep reverie. “And that was Pretty U by yours truly! I collaborated on it with an artist who doesn’t want to be named as of now, so I’ll just say it was great to work with such a talented person and I hope to work with them again soon! Anyway, we know the lyrics are pretty cheesy, but let’s just say it’s based on a juvenile romance! I tried capturing that giddy feeling of liking someone and wanting to tell them pretty words but losing confidence at the last second. I’m sure we’ve all been there before.”

Vernon sat up, nodding his head as if Woozi could see him. After his song scanned his soul like that, Vernon figured it wasn’t impossible.

“I know that some of my subscribers listen to me because they go through these kinds of hardships. But I wanted to say that my songs can’t fix everything. Even I go through it sometimes and I need someone to lean on. There’s actually a new thing I just found out about from a friend - ‘Dear Miss Soju’. It’s a column that they’re gonna start publishing on The Front’s website, and you can anonymously write in all your burning questions about love, relationships, or sex. So if you’re having a hard time confessing like in this song, just know that there’s someone out there to help you out!

“Since you’ll be anonymous, you can write about your heart’s deepest desires, even if it’s a little freaky. Yes, I’m talking to you, user @callmesoon, please stop trying to tell me about your sex life. Anyway, I’ll put the email in the description for anyone that’s interested!” Woozi paused to laugh at several of the comments. “No guys, The Front does not sponsor me. But I can tell you about a company that does sponsor me. Hello Fresh--”  

Seungkwan closed the laptop and sighed. “Well, that didn’t help me at all. Soonyoung hyung said this Woozi guy was gonna make me feel better, but now he’s just telling us to spilll all our secrets to some other stranger. What a scam! Right, Vernon? Vernon?”

By the time Seungkwan turned to look at his friend, Vernon was already writing his second draft for his email. The boy sighed again. Maybe he could give it a shot.

The next morning, Joohyun opened up her laptop to find thirteen emails in her inbox. She smiled. 

Now she could get to work.

[sonoda-oomers]

post vax tangent here we go

i’ve been gruelling over the lockdown and while things have been objectively difficult, getting the vaccine today got me to realize how lucky i was

the vaccines themselves took a while to get here but when they did it only took like 2 days from registration to actually getting vaccinated. there was a lot of people also scheduled for today but it took only 1 hour until i could go home, which is like a lot less time than bureaucrat processes i’ve been through

other places in the country have been prioritizing saigon in vaccine distribution, if it wasn’t for that i imagine the process could’ve taken a lot longer (they literally sent me a message at 1 am the night before i was supposed to go lol). i got lucky compared to even my dad who was scheduled on the same day but had to be rescheduled to a different location because of his diabetes. we waited in line to hand over registration, there was a blood pressure test and questions about other health complications and then i just. got the vaccine in the same meeting. even the dose barely left a physical mark on my body compared to other vaccinations or like. literal mosquito bites.

the medical worker who asked me about my health history spaced out a little. she seemed exhausted but she turned down a colleague when they tried to take her place on the desk. there’s a lot of people like her around the country who have been stringing themselves for over a year to keep other people safe. things are bad for all of us but if it hadn’t been for medical and essential workers and people at decision making departments who actually cared we wouldn’t have survived.

my mom works at hr at a supermarket chain and she’s been out there for months taking care of employees and customers even when one supermarket became part of a quarantined zone and everyone in the company was at risk of infection. when she returns home from work she had to look at irresponsible neighbors who held gatherings prior to the lockdown, other people who got influenced by antivax misinformation, rich people in high class neighborhoods panic hoarding food they don’t need, people who made her job a lot worse. there’s no glory to these jobs, it’s just something that has to be done or everything crumbles. this is just a long period of suffering that everyone has to go through and just. hold on. and do their best to make the day of escape as near as possible.

our fridge has been broken for a week now. my mom’s been storing food at her workplace’s kitchen and spending money on ice to keep stuff in a cooler. working in essential retail right now means her income’s gotten a boost, but even with all the money in the world we can’t call mechanics over during a lockdown. but without people working to keep us safe indoors things would be a lot worse. it’s just like. y’know? it’s hard but i’m grateful that i’m being taken care of. truly.

[morwensteelsheen]

I’m starting grad school this autumn and honestly I’m getting nervous. Like yes I am v excited about the whole prospect overall and I do miss being a student but am intimidated by 3 hr long seminars and thesis writing and massive amounts of reading… everyone keeps saying it’s gonna be very different from undergrad so okay, but how specifically? Is it the large amounts of reading? I already had insane amounts of reading (humanities degree hurrah) especially in my last two years but could you expound on your own experience and how you take notes/read quickly/summarize or just how to deal with first time grad students?

Oh, yeah for sure! A necessary disclaimer here is that I'm at a certain poncy English institution that is noted for being very bad at communicating with its students and very bad at treating its postgrad students like human beings, so a lot of these strategies I've picked up will be overkill for anyone who has the good sense to go somewhere not profoundly evil lol.

So I'll just preface this by saying that I am a very poor student in terms of doing what you're supposed to. I'm very bad at taking notes, I never learned how to do it properly, and I really, really struggle with reading dense literature. That said, I'm probably (hopefully?) going to get through this dumb degree just fine. Also — my programme is a research MPhil, not taught, so it's a teensy bit more airy-fairy in terms of structure. I had two classes in Michaelmas term, both were once a week for two hours each; two in Lent, one was two hours weekly, the other two hours biweekly; and no classes at all in Easter. I also have no exam component, I was/am assessed entirely on three essays (accounting for 30% of my overall mark) and my dissertation (the remaining 70%), which is, I think, a little different to how some other programmes are. I think even some of the other MPhils here are more strenuous than that, like Econ and Soc Hist is like 100% dissertation? Anyways, not super important, but knowing what you're getting marked on is important. I dedicated considerably less time than I did in undergrad to perfecting my coursework essays because they just don't hold as much weight now. The difference between a 68 and a 70 just wasn't worth the fuss for me, which helped keep me sane-ish.

The best advice anyone ever gave me was that, whereas an undergrad degree can kind of take over your life without it becoming a problem, you need to treat grad school like a job. That's not because it's more 'serious' or whatever, but because if you don't set a really strict schedule and keep to it, you'll burn yourself out and generally make your life miserable. Before I went back on my ADD meds at the end of Michaelmas term, I sat myself down at my desk and worked from 11sh to 1800ish every day. Now that I'm medicated, I do like 9:30-10ish to 1800-1900 (except for now that I'm crunching on my diss, where, because of my piss-poor time management skills I'm stuck doing, like, 9:30-22:30-23:00). If you do M-F 9-5, you'll be getting through an enormous amount of work and leaving yourself loads of time to still be a human being on the edges. That'll be the difference between becoming a postgrad zombie and a person who did postgrad. I am a postgrad zombie. You do not want to be like me.

The 'work' element of your days can really vary. It's not like I was actually consistently reading for all that time — my brain would have literally melted right out of my ears — but it was about setting the routine and the expectation of dedicating a certain, consistent and routinized period of time for focusing on the degree work every day. My attention span, even when I'm medicated, is garbage, so I would usually read for two or three hours, then either work on the more practical elements of essay planning, answer emails, or plot out the early stages of my research.

In the first term/semester/whatever, lots of people who are planning on going right into a PhD take the time to set up their applications and proposals. I fully intended on doing a PhD right after the MPhil, but the funding as an international student trying to deal with the pandemic proved super problematic, and I realised that the toll it was taking on my mental health was just so not worth it, so I've chosen to postpone a few years. You'll feel a big ol' amount of pressure to go into a PhD during your first time. Unless you're super committed to doing it, just try and tune it out as much as you can. There's absolutely nothing wrong with taking a year (or two, or three, or ten) out, especially given the insane conditions we're all operating under right now.

I'll be honest with you, I was a phenomenally lazy undergrad. It was only by the grace of god and being a hard-headed Marxist that I managed to pull out a first at the eleventh hour. So the difference between UG and PG has been quite stark for me. I've actually had to do the reading this year, not just because they're more specialised and relevant to my research or whatever, but because, unlike in UG, the people in the programme are here because they're genuinely interested (and not because it's an economic necessity) and they don't want to waste their time listening to people who haven't done the reading.

I am also a really bad reader. Maybe it's partially the ADD + dyslexia, but mostly it's because I just haven't practiced it and never put in the requisite effort to learn how to do it properly. My two big pointers here are learning how to skim, and learning how to prioritise your reading.

This OpenU primer on skimming is a bit condescending in its simplicity, but it gets the point across well. You're going to want to skim oh, say, 90% of the reading you're assigned. This is not me encouraging you to be lazy, it's me being honest. Not every word of every published article or book is worth reading. The vast majority of them aren't. That doesn't mean the things that those texts are arguing for aren't worth reading, it just means that every stupid rhetorical flourish included by bored academics hoping for job security and/or funding and/or awards isn't worth your precious and scarce time. Make sure you get the main thrust of each text, make sure you pull out and note down one or two case studies and move right the hell on. There will be some authors whose writing will be excellent, and who you will want to read all of. Everything else gets skimmed.

Prioritisation is the other big thing. You're going to have shitty weeks, you're probably going to have lots of them. First off, you're going to need to forgive yourself for those now — everybody has them, yes, even the people who graduated with distinctions and go on to get lovely £100,000 AHRC scholarships. Acknowledge that there will be horrible weeks, accept it now, and then strategise for how to get ahead of them. My personal strategy is to plan out what I'm trying to get out of each course I take, and then focus only on the readings that relate to that topic.

I took a course in Lent term that dealt with race and empire in Britain between 1607 and 1900; I'm a researcher of the Scottish far left from 1968-present, so the overlap wasn't significant. But I decided from the very first day of the course that I was there to get a better grasp about the racial theories of capitalism and the role of racial othering in Britain's subjugation of Ireland. Those things are helpful to me because white supremacist capitalism comes up hourly in my work on the far left, and because the relationship of the Scottish far left to Ireland is extremely important to its self definition. On weeks when I couldn't handle anything else, I just read the texts related to that. And it was fine, I did fine, I got my stupid 2:1 on the final essay, and I came out of it not too burnt out to work on my dissertation.

Here is where I encourage you to learn from my mistakes: get yourself a decent group of people who you can have in depth conversations about the material with. I was an asshole who decided I didn't need to do that with any posh C*mbr*dge twats, and I have now condemned myself to babbling incomprehensible nonsense at my partner because I don't have anyone on my course to work through my ideas with. These degrees are best experienced when they're experienced socially. In recent years (accelerated by the pandemic, ofc), universities have de-emphasised the social component of postgrad work, largely to do with stupid, long-winded stuff related to postgrad union organising etc. It's a real shame because postgrads end up feeling quite socially isolated, and because they're not having these fun and challenging conversations, their work actually suffers in the long term. This is, and I cannot stress this enough, the biggest departure from undergrad. Even the 'weak links' or whatever judgemental nonsense are there because they want to be. That is going to be your biggest asset. Talk, talk, talk. Listen, listen, listen. Offer to proofread people's papers so you get a sense of how people are thinking about things, what sort of style they're writing in, what sources they're referring to. Be a sponge and a copycat (but don't get done for plagiarism, copy like this.) Also: ask questions that seem dumb. For each of your classes, ask your tutors/lecturers who they think the most important names in their discipline are. It sounds silly, but it's really helpful to know the intellectual landscape you're dealing with, and it means you know whose work you can go running to if you get lost or tangled up during essay or dissertation writing!

You should also be really honest about everything — another piece of advice that I didn't follow and am now suffering for. The people on your courses and in your cohort are there for the same reasons as you, have more or less the same qualifications as you, and are probably going to have a lot of the same questions and insecurities as you. If you hear an unfamiliar term being used in a seminar, just speak up and ask about it, because there're going to be loads of other people wondering too. But you should also cultivate quite a transparent relationship with your supervisor. I was really cagey and guarded with mine because my hella imposter syndrome told me she was gonna throw my ass out of the programme if I admitted to my problems. Turns out no, she wouldn't, and that actually she's been a super good advocate for me. If you feel your motivation slipping or if you feel like you're facing challenges you could do with a little extra support on, go right to your supervisor. Not only is that what they're there to do, they've also done this exact experience before and are going to be way more sympathetic and aware of the realities of it than, say, the uni counselling service or whatever.

Yeah so I gotta circle back to the notes thing... I really do not take notes. It's my worst habit. Here's an example of the notes I took for my most recent meeting with my supervisor (revising a chapter draft).

No sane person would ever look at these and think this is a system worth replicating lol. But the reason they work for me is because I also record (with permission) absolutely everything. My mobile is like 90% audio recordings of meetings and seminars lol. So these notes aren't 'good' notes, but they're effective for recalling major points in the audio recording so I can listen to what was said when I need to.

Sorry none of this is remotely organised because it's like 2330 here and my brain is so soft and mushy. I'm literally just writing things as I remember them.

Right, so: theory is a big thing. Lots of people cheap out on this and it's to their own detriment. You say you're doing humanities, and tbh, most of the theory involved on the humanities side of the bridge is interdisciplinary anyways, so I'm just gonna give you some recommendations. The big thing is to read these things and try to apply them to what you're writing about. This sounds so fucking condescending but getting, like, one or two good theoretical frameworks in your papers will actually put you leaps and bounds beyond the students around you and really improve your research when the time comes. Also: don't read any of these recommendations without first watching, like an intro youtube video or listening to a podcast. The purists will tell you that's the wrong way to do it, but I am a lazy person and lazy people always find the efficient ways to do things, so I will tell the purists to go right to hell.

Check out these impenetrable motherfuckers (just one or two will take your work from great to excellent, so don't feel obliged to dig into them all):

Karl Marx and Fredrich Engels (I'm not just pushing my politics, but also, I totally am) — don't fucking read Capital unless you're committed to it. Oh my god don't put yourself through that unless you really have to. Try, like, the 18th Brumaire of Louis Napoleon for the fun quotes, and Engels on the family.

Frantz Fanon — Wretched of the Earth. Black Skin White Masks also good, slightly more impossible to read

Benedict Anderson — Imagined Communities. It's about nationalism, but you will be surprised at how applicable it is to... so many other topics

Judith Butler — she really sucks to read. I love her. But she sucks to read. If you do manage to read her though, your profs will love you because like 90% of the people who say they've read her are lying

Bourdieu — Distinction is good for a lot of things, but especially for introducing the idea of social and cultural capital. There's basically no humanities sub-discipline that can't run for miles on that alone.

Crenshaw — the genesis of intersectionality. But, like, actually read her, not the ingrates who came after her and defanged intersectionality into, like, rainbow bombs dropped over Gaza.

The other thing is that you should read for fun. My programme director was absolutely insistent that we all continue to read for pleasure while we did this degree, not just because it's good for destressing, but because keeping your cultural horizons open actually makes your writing better and more interesting. I literally read LOTR for the first time in, like February, and the difference in my writing and thinking from before and after is tangible, because not only did it give me something fun to think about when I was getting stressy, but it also opened up lots of fun avenues for thought that weren't there before. I read LOTR and wanted to find out more about English Catholics in WWI, and lo and behold something I read about it totally changed how I did my dissertation work. Or, like, a girl on my course who read the Odyssey over Christmas Break and then started asking loads of questions about the role of narrative creation in the archival material she was using. It was seriously such a good edict from our director.

Also, oh my god, if you do nothing else, please take this bit seriously: forgive yourself for the bad days. The pressure in postgrad is fucking unreal. Nobody, nobody is operating at 100% 100% of the time. If you aim for 60% for 80% of the time and only actually achieve 40% for 60% of the time, you will still be doing really fucking well. Don't beat yourself up unnecessarily. Don't make yourself feel bad because you're not churning out publishable material every single day. Some days you just need to lie on the couch, order takeout, and watch 12 hours of Jeopardy or whatever, and I promise you that that is a good and worthwhile thing to do. You don't learn and grow without rest, so forgive yourself for the moments and days of unplanned rest, and forgive yourself for when you don't score as highly as you want to, and forgive yourself when you say stupid things in class or don't do all of (or any of) the class reading.

Uhhhh I think I'm starting to lose the plot a bit now. Honestly, just ping me whatever questions you have and I'm happy to answer them. There's a chance I'll be slower to respond over the next few days because my dissertation is due in a week (holy fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) but I will definitely respond. And honestly, no question is too dumb lol. I wish I'd been able to ask someone about things like what citation management software is best or how to set up a desk for maximum efficiency or whatever, but I was a scaredy-cat about it and didn't. So yeah, ask away and I will totally answer.

[eury--dice]

history, huh?

chapter 2: prope

(check the rb for chapter 1 on tumblr + ao3 links!)

Blue’s gum popped loudly on the other line. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he saw her chew gum, but somehow it seemed fitting that she picked up the habit then, with him overseas. “Any weird paintings?”

“I’m legally obligated not to tell you,” Adam replied, flicking his eyes over a textbook. He scanned his eyes over a page, but the fonts and colors all blurred together, creating a grey and red mass of string in front of him instead of a helpful breakdown of France’s pre-revolution economy. His phone, propped up on a tiny potted fern, revealed Blue Sargent in all of her early-evening glory. He wondered what the tabloids might think of her like this: her thick and short black hair held back by clashing vibrant hair clips, dressed in one of Gansey’s old Aglionby sweaters she converted into a halter top, felt-tip pen ink somehow smudged on her cheek. There was something wonderfully grounding about her familiar chaos.

“Contracts are a suggestion and nothing more.”

“Don’t let your mother hear that. She’ll have us both thrown in jail.” Ronan’s words from earlier popped into his head, but he had the luxury of ignoring them with the prince out of sight, and so he did. 

“C’mon, Adam, you know she’s a softie. You’re in Kensington Palace. You have to tell me something exciting.”

Adam scrounged for something to tell her. He glanced around his room again, still caught off-guard by how much it felt like a castle. Admittedly, he didn’t have a great reference for what castles were supposed to feel like; the only other castle he had been in was the Bishop Palace on a tour with his mother at age eight. His hair raised on end at random moments here the same way it did then, the draftiness leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He couldn't quite shake the idea that someone was watching him, caught between air molecules and screaming for someone to hear them. The White House sometimes gave him the same feeling. Realistically, he knew people passed over every spot on the earth and nothing made the walls of the White House or Kensington Palace any different in that regard. But the history in them intimidated him. The presence of greats, from founding fathers to celebrity politicians to monarchs, was a guarantee rather than a possibility. He couldn’t help but feel watched by them, feel their expectations and disappointment thick in the air.

Living there all the time as Ronan did must be lonely, surrounded only by ghosts. 

He pushed his feet against the floor, leaning back in his chair so that it balanced on two legs. His leg swung back and forth to dully hit the wooden underside of the seat while the other braced him. Adam didn’t quite want to tell Blue any of that. He knew she would understand, both because she was Blue and because her family was a big believer in the supernatural and psychic. But he didn’t know how to say it without a long-winded rant. “There’s a coat of armor outside my room,” he admitted in a low tone. “I’ve been waiting for it to twitch its finger and beckon me closer.”

“I’m sure if you ask nicely it will let you pursue your weird metal fantasies.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Adam said without heat, finally flipping the textbook shut. “No kink-shaming over the phone.”

“I watched the Wizard of Oz with you at age eight, Adam. You can’t hide your reaction to the Tin Man from me.”

Adam rubbed his eyes. “I need ice cream to deal with this bullying,” he announced, standing from the borrowed desk and snatching his phone up.

“Aw, at least I know that the English haven’t been able to suck all the life out of you if you’re complaining and want ice cream.”

“They haven’t managed it yet, but we’re only one photo op in.”

“Well, if the excess of British does manage to sideline you, let me know. I know Gansey will want the heads-up for the tabloids.”

“As long as you don’t feed them headlines again, I’d be happy to.” Adam rounded the corner into the spacious kitchen reserved for guests of the Crown. He’d roll his eyes at the needless expense if the White House didn’t provide the exact same accommodations. 

“I’m telling you again, I know nothing of the allegation.”

Adam gave her a flat look. “Who else would pen ‘First Son Denies Fur Son Residence in the Residence?’ Besides the obvious reason for it being bad, it was clearly you.”

Blue blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Sometimes I hate your intimate knowledge of my love of wordplay.”

“And I yours of the diplomatic taxidermy gifts I receive.”

“I’m sure the Minister of Foreign Affairs’ son meant well, he was just...creepy.”

Adam sighed, opening the freezer with one hand to reveal a box of pre-packaged ice cream cones. “They always mean well.”

He pulled the box from the freezer and shut the door, turning on his heel to face the counter. But he stopped short when he noticed it was no longer just him and Blue alone in the kitchen. 

Prince Ronan stood in the entryway to the kitchen, disarmed in the half-light with his flannel pajama pants and black t-shirt combination. Over-the-ear headphones sat on his head, but he pushed them down to loop around his neck. The music was so loud it bled into the air, carrying the harsh sound of drums until they reached Ronan across the kitchen. On his screen, Blue studied Adam and his sudden pause, and the voice of Gansey carried over from somewhere far away - “I’ve got a new article,” it sounded like, though Adam could barely hear anything. 

“Call you back,” he said quietly, disconnecting from the call. Ronan looked almost apologetic when Adam looked back up towards him.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he confessed. “Goody-two-shoes like you.”

Adam wanted to take offense to it, but something stopped him. “I could say the same for you.”

“Yes, well, insomnia calls.”

“Doesn’t it always?” The two shared a tight smile. 

“I was out,” Ronan explained, gesturing to the box in Adam’s hand. “Knew there’d be a stock here. I’m...sorry.” The word sounded bitter and foreign on his tongue.

“It’s fine,” Adam said. “Midnight snacks are to be taken seriously or not at all.” He slid the box across the counter, suddenly very aware of his threadbare, faded crimson coca-cola tee shirt and GU sweatpants. He couldn’t stop feeling the slide of them against his skin. 

Ronan clutched the box once it reached him, looking to Adam with something close to surprise. Still, he opened the box and selected an ice cream. 

While he was distracted, Adam snapped a picture, the flash bright in the dim kitchen. 

The stare leveled at him by Ronan should’ve been enough to pin any self-preserving person in place, but Adam rarely did what was best for him personally. “What the fuck is that for?”

“Two social media posts a day,” Adam replied, speeding through the filtering process and tapping to the captioning. “It’s part of the contract.”

“Of course it would be,” Ronan mutters with great disdain. “Fucking social media addicted hounds.”

“Not a fan of technology?”

“Oh, sure, other than the fact that it’s a blight consuming the world by slaughtering brain cells and slowly giving us radiation poisoning.”

“You could’ve just said ‘yes.’”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Adam smiled brightly. “Not giving me a headache from all of the pomposity?” 

“Exactly. No fun.” When Adam continued to stare blankly at his screen, Ronan rolled his eyes. “Does it take you this long to caption everything you do? If so, I understand why so little governing takes place.”

“Because the monarchy is oh-so-powerful,” Adam replied, but then decided to cut them off before it could turn into a full-blown fight. “It always takes me a minute to think of something good.”

Ronan grabbed the phone from his hands. “You’re overthinking it,” he dismissed, making a few decisive taps before handing the phone back to Adam, photo captioned but not yet posted. insomnia ice cream ft. @PrinceRonan. 

“Thought you hated technology?”

“Hate and lack of proficiency are two different things.” “...Of course,” Adam said, clicking post on the photo. Ronan turned and walked toward the door, the song on his headphones audibly changing. Not one for goodbyes, then. The feeling he had in his room was back then, the idea that ghosts clung to the air around him and stole oxygen with their demands. Although Ronan had not yet left, Adam already felt as though he were lonely. Lonely, but not alone, still technically with Ronan and all of the ghosts thickening the air.

Adam, in a fluid movement he didn’t really plan, dumped half of the ice creams on the counter and held out the box across the marble countertop as though bridging some wide ocean. The coolness of the marble inched closer to the skin of his forearm where it hovered a few inches in the air.

“You can take these if you’d like.”

Ronan froze, his back straightened and still before he turned ninety degrees back to look at Adam. “Pardon?”

“The ice cream cones. It’s probably better you do, honestly. I just eat them when I’m bored. Calories I don’t really need.”

Ronan’s startlingly blue eyes studied him for a moment, roaming every line of Adam’s face as though searching for some trickery and then jumping to the box in Adam’s outstretched hand. “Thank you,” he said at last in an undertone, accepting the offered box. And, leaving Adam with some hint of a smile, Prince Ronan was gone, Adam all by himself and the faint memory of intense guitar music leaking from expensive headphones still lingering in the air. 

  Once they landed firmly in PR territory, Adam felt a bit steadier on his feet.

PR he knew like the back of his hand, armed with years of experience from campaigns and political terms. It was not innate for him like for Gansey, but like everything else in his life, Adam was a star pupil and quick to pick it up thoroughly. He studied diligently, examining the facial expressions of everyone around him, examining each furrow of brow and twitch of lips and bellow of a laugh, practicing and perfecting on his own to ensure that he blended in seamlessly and, when necessary, stood out brilliantly. America’s First Son, valedictorian-intelligent and attractive enough to stop hearts for a moment upon seeing him. By the time he sat on ITV This Morning next to his enemy, he certainly knew all the tips and tricks and expertise ensuring a successful interview, and luckily Ronan seemed to know his way around a talk show as well. His thoroughly British host seemed appropriately charmed by their dynamic, a golden-child American and England’s simultaneously proper and wild Royal. 

Adam excelled at PR not because he was natural but because he was over-prepared, and so he was comfortable with the rhythm he and Ronan fell into - referencing each other’s favorites, cracking dry, sarcastic jokes about ice cream, fist-bumping and throwing arms around each other’s shoulders for effect when needed.

He counted it as a win that his resentment never made it into his words or his actions. Instead, he distracted himself with what they were doing, savoring the news alerts of their “clearly natural” friendship and the thumbs-up and “!!!” texts from Gansey and Blue whenever something exciting reached the press. He ignored Ronan for the most part, and Ronan mostly ignored him. He clenched his teeth and smiled at how rough-and-tumble Ronan looked under stage lighting, as wickedly handsome as a poisoned and sharpened dagger, unfairly attractive even with his head closely shaved. 

Then the time for their second photo op rolled around, sometime after Adam posted an empty-feeling snapshot of Ronan on a deserted London sidewalk with the caption love a nice mid-afternoon walk, and his mood plummeted sharply. 

As well as people and hospitals generally went together, Adam did not have a particularly terrible relationship with any hospitals, especially the Royal Marsden NHS Foundation Trust. He did not enjoy them, sure, but who did? And his discomfort may have gone below the surface-level “death and sickness occur here” jitteriness most people felt, but the majority of the unease coiling in his stomach came from the utterly staged feeling to everything. The First Son and Prince came bearing gifts of books, but they probably did more harm than good for all of the children by displacing all the medical professionals and disrupting their steady routines with full camera crews.

It felt hypocritical, and Adam definitely didn’t want to be shoving cameras in the faces of cancer patient children, but the decisions weren’t up to him, and so he slipped back into PR mode. He shook the hands of nurses and posed faux-candidly for cameras. The only real things he did were with the kids - once they knew who he was, they asked for stories of celebrities and monuments, and although Adam was no fantastic storyteller, he did his best to answer every question and then some. He read to them, too, from the new and donated books, even when the cameras left in search of Ronan. Anger was hard to hold onto when he looked into their faces and resolved to cheer them up. 

He read until his voice began to grind at itself, tucked next to kids on narrow hospital cots. They were all ages, and all perfectly suited to throw Adam back into memories he didn’t want to relive. Looking at the books, with the gaudily-colored pictures and ridiculous rhymes, was easier than looking at the children. They all looked to him with similar looks painted across their faces and twinkling in their eyes, one that made Adam’s heart twist, because he knew that he’d worn that expression so often as a child when he thought someone could help him or save him. They looked at him like he was hope itself, some savior come to grant them a wish and a recovery. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

The visit of the First Son and Prince of England must have cut into naptime because at some point Adam looked up from the book to realize that the camera crews had retreated and all the patients in his ward had dozed off.  He slowly unfurled himself, gangly limbs and all, to stand without disturbing the child who rested so fitfully on the hospital cot. His steps were soft and random against the tile, mostly just a blind search to try and find Ronan. It wasn’t long before he heard Ronan’s voice stretching over space from the next room over. Adam slowed, hoping to stay just out of sight while still observing Ronan.

The Prince perched on the edge of a narrow hospital bed, reminding Adam ridiculously of a bird poised to take flight. Since there were no cameras near him, his posture was slightly relaxed like it had been in the kitchen the night previously. A little girl clung tightly to his hand while he gestured wildly with his other, her eyes wide and hanging onto his every word. Ronan’s voice was somehow hushed and grand at the same time, his posh accent dulled to something a little more rural.

“When three hundred years had come and gone, the four swans traveled South to the sea of Moyle, braving the turbulent tides that wanted to draw them under.” He leaned closer to her and tugged lightly on her free hand with his free hand, perhaps to echo the water he mentioned in the story, and she gripped it tightly, nearing laughter with every second. “They swam past the cold and stormy seas, their feathers ruffled but unharmed when they reached Inis Glora. The swans had grown tired over their long journey, the years of their lives catching up to slow them down.”

Adam, without thinking, felt a bit of a smile take over his face. He was taken aback by the change in Ronan. The boy sitting on the bed seemed lightyears away from any other version - he’d gone a little hazy at the edges, as though he were made of smoke, as though Adam was dreaming and viewing some kind of apparition. His tailored lines still stuck out jaggedly, cutting a harsh figure, but he seemed at ease and gentle for the first time Adam had ever seen. One hell of a storyteller, too. Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to know why, as the Prince of England, Ronan could let all of those Irish words roll off of his tongue as though they came naturally.

An Irish children’s tale. An Irish children’s tale. Why would he know any of those? The answer nagged at Adam’s brain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to dig.

The girl was quiet as Ronan’s voice trailed off until it became nothing. The swans had returned to elderly humans and lived with a priest who blessed them for the rest of their days, and Adam assumed that she was processing the anticlimactic ending. Finally, she said, “I like those endings best.”

“You do?” Ronan asked, patience yielding in his tone. “Why do you like them?”

“Sad endings are too sad, but happy endings aren’t real.”

Adam could only see the back of Ronan’s head, but he could hear him clear his throat and see him squeeze the girl’s hand in his much larger one. “Me, too.” He leaned away from her a little, letting go of one of her hands. When he spoke again, a smile was in his voice. “You’re much wiser than the adults I know. I might have to offer you a position advising me.”

The girl laughed again, a giddy and wild and hopeful thing. “You’re very silly,” she informed Ronan, likely too young to realize any breaches in etiquette. Luckily for her, Ronan didn’t care, either.

“I am very serious,” he said, his face no doubt translating that sentiment very well. He squeezed her hand again. “I’ll be back with an offer in fifteen or so years, don’t you worry.”

“Is that a promise?”

Ronan stilled at once, the muscles in his back set just as they had been in the kitchen. Adam didn’t envy the situation she’d inadvertently put Ronan into. As childish and silly as her question was, there was a little too much weight to the response for him to casually offer a yes or a no.

“Do your best to get better,” he said at length, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

And, oh, that expression of hope was back shining on her face, and Adam had to shuffle to his other foot, looking away. The people were the reason he liked politics, liked the idea of trying to help build a world even a fraction better than the one he was raised in, and yet he couldn’t look. Couldn’t bear the thought of letting anyone down.

Ronan glanced behind him, clearly catching sight of Adam, just as a nurse bustled into the room and cheerfully announced that it was time for medicine.

“Thank you,” the little girl said before releasing his hand.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ella,” Ronan said with a stiff formality that made her giggle again. “And of course,” he added, a little more softly.

It was perhaps not a polite enough exit for a prince, but after Ronan clumsily thanked the nurse and stepped back into the ward to meet Adam, he knew it was the best they would get. Ronan continued moving past him in the direction Adam assumed the cameras must have gone.

“Ah, so you do have feelings other than anger,” Adam said, trailing Ronan into the hall. 

“Don’t act so fu... completely surprised,” Ronan replied, turning his head towards Adam. At first, he thought Ronan might have been uncomfortable with the idea of Adam seeing the interaction, but instead, his face started to squeeze into something close to a smile, his eyes crinkling and the corners of his mouth lifting. A pop from down the hallway shuttered the expression before it could become fully formed. A shout cut through the air just as Persephone appeared between Ronan and Adam as though materializing from thin air. Her impossibly long, white hair clung to the sleeves of their sweaters with static friction as she shoved them with surprising strength into a closet. 

Her voice was still serene and airy despite the sudden tension settling on everyone’s chests. “Wait for the all-clear.” And the door shut with a thunk behind her. 

Adam leaned his head against it with a sigh, before very rapidly remembering that they were two high-profile targets in a possible active shooter scenario and doors weren’t exactly safe. He scrambled backward, accidentally knocking into Ronan and sending them tumbling into the wall. Of all the closets to be unceremoniously shoved into, they had to be stuck in one barely large enough for the brooms stacked to his right. 

“Can you stop falling into me, please?” came Ronan’s voice, taut with something close to fury but probably closer to anxiety.

“But you love it so much,” Adam bit out, trying to backtrack. Ronan’s face had somehow ended up in Adam’s hair, and he could feel Ronan’s long lashes close, paired with a troubled exhale. Adam managed to extract himself from Ronan and slide against one of the walls, crouching beside something he suspected was a bucket. Ronan followed his example, leaning against the opposite wall until he slid to the ground. Adam couldn’t see Ronan very well, but judging from the faint rustling sounds of buzzed hair against cotton and quick, deep breaths, he wasn’t handling the situation very well.

“This is a new one,” Adam said. “Assassination attempts, I mean. Is this common for the royalty?”

“Shut up,” Ronan said, his voice faint from his position closer to the ground.

“I’m blaming you if we die, you know.” When he received no response, Adam continued. “I probably could have made it at least a couple more years. No one’s ever tried to shoot me before. Guess I’m not important enough on my own. Who knew our fake friendship could be so deadly?”

“Fuck off,” Ronan replied, his breaths still deep.

“I’d love to, mate,” Adam said, forcing faux-jolly British inflection into the last word, “But we’re stuck in this closet for the foreseeable future, or until we get shot.”

“I meant shut up before that happens.”

“What, you’re not keen on life-threatening scenarios?” Ronan didn’t respond, and Adam felt a bit of genuine concern leak into his other thoughts. “Are you doing alright? I thought you of all people would be used to this.”

“Not keen on tight spaces,” he grit out, his teeth likely bared in that dangerous way that made Adam’s hands curl into fists. “Now fucking stop for a minute.”

They sat in silence, nothing but their breaths filling the space between them. The silence must have started to grate on Ronan because he broke it first.

“It doesn’t happen all the time, you know.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m telling you.” Ronan breathed something that sounded like dumbass. “Once, when I was small and out in public with my father. Declan was there, too. I can’t remember much of it. That’s the only other time.”

“Suppose it’s as good a story as any,” Adam said, his voice just a hint louder than Ronan’s whisper had been. “Glad I can hear it trapped in this minuscule closet with you.”

“You’re the one with the foot digging into my hip, not the other way around.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to put it, Your Highness?” He nudged his foot and Ronan surged forward, clamping a hand around Adam’s mouth and the other clenching in Adam’s collar, practically hovering above where Adam stretched out uncomfortably. Adam much preferred this almost-fighting to their pretending to be friends.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to die today.” Adam tried shifting to free himself, but Ronan had a firm grip and he couldn’t gain any ground. Instead, he licked Ronan’s palm, and Ronan was quick to drop his hand in disgust with a quiet noise of discontent. He found himself pinned with one of Ronan’s glares, the intensity tangible even in the dark.

“I don’t want you to die either, you sodding idiot. I’m not the only one in here. You talking is ruining both of us.” “Clearly you’re not, this might actually be comfortable without you and your ridiculous, showy muscles. But I didn’t realize you cared, sugar,” he said, thinking fleetingly of his mother, “if I was breathing or not.”

“Right now, your life is tied very closely to mine, and so I do.”

“Sweet as honey,” Adam taunted, thickening his drawl. Most of the time he tried to school his words into something a little more Northern, but he enjoyed the way the southern accent bothered Ronan.

“No peace, none at all,” Ronan muttered. “Not even in the looming face of death.”

Adam could have said the same, really. The last thing he expected to see from Ronan while shoved into a dark closet with him was any genuine emotion. But the stories, the fear in the enclosed space, the story of his father-

His father. Of course. 

“Was that story from your father?” He asked, although he already was sure of the answer.

Ronan’s response clipped. “Yes.”

His conscience was still mostly intact, and so Adam began to feel a little bad for picking a fight while in a stressful situation and then bringing up Ronan’s grief. “You’re a good storyteller.” Ronan’s silence was judgemental and disbelieving, so he persisted. “What, I can’t give a compliment? You are.” 

“My siblings and I had stories read to us like everyone else, Parrish. We’re not programmed, bland colonialism robots.” A pause. “Well, Mathew and I aren’t.”

“Of course not, imperialism comes first.”

“You’re welcome for the country, then.”

A brief silence followed. It felt, inexplicably, like the two of them had been toeing a line ever since Adam stood outside of Ella’s door and heard Ronan speak to her. They were inching closer with every word spoken.

“My father was the real storyteller,” he admitted, and Adam internally marked another inch traveled. “Since he was an actor and all. He always told us those stories even though he wasn’t technically supposed to. I just...imitate.”

“Imitate?”

“Yes,” Ronan said, providing no other explanation. “Why do you give a damn, anyway? You don’t want childhood tales and neither do I. You hate me.”

“We’re stuck like this forever,” Adam admitted. He’d known it before, but speaking the words made them feel more real. “Neither of us likes it, but here we are, shoved in a closet together. We have to pull off this act for the rest of our lives, Ronan, and I need something more than a cheat sheet your PR team slapped together.”

Ronan was eerily still for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Then why do you hate me?”

The question caught Adam off guard. “What?”

“Why do you hate me?” Off of Adam’s wary look, he threw the words back in his face. “We’re stuck together just like you said. I need some kind of answer.”

Adam sighed, acquiescing. “Do you remember what you said in Rio?”

“The fuck are you talking about, Parrish?”

“The Olympics?”

“When you threatened to push me into the River Thames?”

“No. You being a condescending dick at diving finals.”

Ronan was still for a long moment before bringing a hand to his shoulder and easing himself back away and off of Adam. “Oh. Shit.”

“So. You remember?”

“Vaguely.” A pause, elongated in the dark. “You heard?”

“Yes.” 

“So that did it, then?”

“Yes.”

But Ronan must have known he had more to say because he stayed silent. 

“I probably would have hated you no matter what,” Adam finally admitted, some low part of his gut feeling heavier with the admission. “It’s just - I wasn’t even the First Son then, and everyone was already comparing us. And it didn’t matter if they thought I was better or you were better or whatever, it was just - the idea of you bothered me, a white boy born with the power to make such change and unquestioning support from millions who was throwing it all away instead. And I’ve been compared to a shit ton of people in my life, from my mother to Blue and Gansey to just - everyone, but somehow with you, it was always the worst. So yes, it was the diving finals.”

“But it was also you being self-conscious?”

“But it was also you being an asshole.” 

“Yeah, it was,” Ronan admitted lowly, and Adam blinked at the admission. “I was - I definitely was one. I think I was one all the fucking time back then. It doesn’t excuse anything, but my father passed on...not long before, if you can understand.”

Adam didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, but he nodded all the same. He felt something in his throat tighten. “Of course. I don’t think I’d realized.”

“It doesn’t excuse it,” Ronan repeated. “I’m sorry.”

This was something heavier, truer than his other apologies - something beyond deeply-ingrained politeness that allowed him to apologize for petty things. It was as though he genuinely asked for forgiveness, like Adam had any real choice in the matter, like Adam’s forgiveness was something Ronan actually wanted. Adam never expected to receive a genuine apology from the Prince of England.

“I appreciate it. And I’m sorry as well. For...not realizing.” Ronan’s figure visibly relaxed even though it was barely visible.

“So, depressing Irish stories. Is that your default?”

“I’m afraid the Irish don’t have a lot of serotonin-filled stories.”

“There’s the English in you,” Adam said to a breathy laugh from Ronan. “Do you remember any more?”

“Probably couldn’t forget them, if we’re being honest. And not speaking to the press.”

“They hate me at the moment, so you have nothing to worry about.” He paused before he continued. “Would you tell one?”

“...why?”

“I don’t know. We’re stuck in here, aren’t we?”

“Be careful what you wish for. I’ll write you in as a Celtic witch.”

“I always thought I’d make a very dashing villainous magician. If that’s the price to pay, I can live with it.”

Ronan was silent, and Adam thought that he had given up on any conversation. However, he spoke again, his voice oddly light. “Once, the fierce Fianna believed in many things, none as much as the beautiful Eden laying in the Western Sea. Tir na nÒg, it was called, and the name passed between them like a secret.” Suddenly breaking character, Ronan said in his normal whisper, “That means “land of the living” for any uneducated parties.”

“Dick. Go on.”

There was something captivating in this new way Ronan spoke paired with the near-darkness and tight space of their closet. “Fionn, the leader of the Fianna-”

“Great naming process, by the way.”

“Shut the hell up or no story.”

Adam shut up.

“The leader of the Fianna led them to hunt the deer along the shores in County Kerry, including his son, Oisín. But Oisín soon caught sight of a single, bright light in the distance, all the way through the thick green of tree foliage. As it drew closer, he saw that the light was, instead, a beautiful girl with hair of spun gold astride a snow-colored mare. When Fionn inquired as to who she was, she informed them that she was Niamh of the Golden Hair, daughter of the King of  Tir na nÒg, and she had come to take Oisín as her husband-”

Ronan cut off abruptly, and Adam almost asked why, but a moment later he heard the source of the silence - heavy footsteps outside the door. Suddenly, neither of them breathed, instead choosing to sit in total petrified silence.

And slowly, mercifully, the door crept open, spilling cold white light along the floor of the cupboard and across their splayed legs. Persephone stood in the doorway, her expression relaxed once again.

“False alarm,” she said breezily, reaching out her hands to haul them back to their feet. Adam shifted uncomfortably on pins and needles as his legs shot back to life. “Fireworks, not guns.”

“Fireworks in a hospital?”

Persephone shrugged. “It was some teenager.”

“Always is,” Ronan said, dangerously close to a joke. He blinked rapidly, setting his shoulders back to stand at his full height. He slanted a look towards Adam, his mouth curving into something wicked but not intimidating, all bark and no bite. “Bonding is over, then.”

“Thank God.”