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thepromisedbride · 4 years ago

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HELLO JESS. BBC GHOSTS ARTHURIAN AU GO (by which I mean the arthurian characters in the premise of BBC ghosts, not the other way around)

REY oh my god i love you for this here we go

So in Ghosts the alive characters are a married couple, right?? Wrong!! Well, not wrong, because yes that’s exactly what Mike and Alison are. But wrong for this version because though I seriously considered having one of the couples as the main characters I then thought “hey what’s more fun than a family!!” and luckily for us (me) we have a ready made family in the form of (drumroll please) The Orkneys!!

The rest is under a read more because I got what some might call “carried away” and others might call “obsessed”

What happens is this: as the Orkney brothers grow up, they rather naturally become separated, until at last Gareth is the last one, at seventeen, living with their mother. Their father (or at least, their supposed father: they all know that Mordred looked too dissimilar to Lot to really be his son, though they never said it) died a while ago, and Morgause could not find it in her to really focus on her children over her job.

The five of them seem to unspokenly care about each other, but in a way where it was clear that they were all waiting to be contacted first.

Nonetheless, when Morgause does die, with Gareth having just turned eighteen and seriously wondering why he had taken a gap year from university, they all show up, and find that they had jointly been bequeathed the old family house in the country.

Gawain has been recently promoted and is now working from home. This meant more time than he usually spent inside his flat, and he had been getting rather claustrophobic. So, after an admittedly short heart to heart with Gareth, who was looking quite nervously towards a future without parents and with no idea what to do, he packs up his brothers in a typically Gawain-like fashion and moves them all out to the manor.

Mordred has been able to see ghosts since an incident in his youth involving a large body of water, an ill-timed trip and a sudden storm. He hasn’t been in water since, but the near-death experience left his with the ability to see those spirits left when their bodies had departed. This is especially unfortunate for him, because half the time he doesn’t particularly want to be able to see living people, let alone ghosts who do not leave when he throws things at them. But he puts up with it enough: there is, beyond all logic, a particular cup he took from Morgause’s house when he left which somehow has three ghosts attached to it, and they happily provide a deterrent for any others.

(It does create a somewhat awkward car journey: he’s being driven by Agravaine, and between the boxes in the back and the only two seats in the front, there’s not much room even for a ghost. Aggs keeps looking at him weirdly when he fidgets, but it’s not his fault that the only free place left is his lap or that Galahad decided that he simply had to see the journey to the house rather than simply confining himself to the cup like Bors and Percival did.)

Anyway, this means that he arrives at the house and immediately sees a crowd of variously costumed figures and tries turning around and leaving. Unfortunately Agravaine anticipates some “young adult hormones” and quickly steers him straight inside.

It takes him a while to finally be alone with the ghosts, who seem to quickly realise he can see them. There are eleven of them in total, though a couple seem to spend most of their time in the little gatekeeper house rather than the main building. He immediately makes a note to avoid Dinadan, who looks at Mordred once and immediately makes fun of his choice in band t-shirts (and like, he’s a ghost, what does he know about bands, it’s like trying to talk to Gaheris—) and Lamorak is instantly relegated to Mordred’s extensive “least liked people” list, which is different to his “disliked people” list. Kay seems kind of mean, which is funny, and Bedivere is responsible enough to try and control the others, but they are clearly “not dating” which honestly Mordred has no time for.

He gets on best with Clarissant, probably, as she’s smart and not too grating but still sweet enough that she likes sitting with him when he wants to be quiet but doesn’t want to be alone. Owain, likewise, has shown him several spaces in the garden for birdwatching or other wildlife (which Mordred doesn’t particularly have used for, but he does appreciate the effort).

Owain is “not dating” a different ghost, Laudine, but in a different way than Kay and Bedivere are “not dating”, in a way that doesn’t get on Mordred’s nerves and lets him acknowledge that Laudine is kind of funny. Elaine doesn’t really talk to him: there’s a river and lake by the house and she seems to prefer it there, or else by the old tower. But she has great stories, and never minds when he really needs a vent, usually about his brothers.

It’s Palamedes and Brangaine who live (in the loosest sense of the word) in the gatekeeper’s cottage. This is very useful, because it means he can set up a little bedroom inside, though it’s mostly for storage now, and sleep there when he wants to pretend he has his own space. He has a strange nervousness that they might see him as a sort of pet, but he’s pretty sure that’s not the case.

Relatively sure.

Not that it matters. They have a clearly delicate history together, one Mordred is not about to ask after for fear that one or both will start crying, but they manage in a sort of sweet domesticity. He’s left the goblet in there for now, because Palamedes seems to enjoy Galahad, Bors and Percival’s company.

And it’s—

Nice.

And then, of course, there is Lancelot. He seems far too well meaning for Mordred to carry on any kind of maliciousness for long, except that for some godforsaken reason he has also decided that Gawain is an ideal muse. He spends way too much time following Gawain around, thinking up sappy poetry about Gawain, or else sighing blissfully out of a window (presumably over Gawain). Mordred thinks that if Lancelot were to ever be able to actually talk to Gawain (physically, he means. Or figuratively? Because even if Lancelot wasn’t a ghost he does not seem to have any cognitive abilities around Gawain anyway) then this image would be shattered. Gawain looks pretty, but so does this waterfall Mordred once read about that falls down into nothingness and despair, or the river stretch that looks like a lovely refreshing swim but actually is an fierce riptide with a 100% mortality rate. Something like that. But the point is that it’s difficult enough with Gawain constantly around without having his admirer hanging round all the time too. Gawain is insufferable already without Gaheris and Gaheris getting to add to their board of “Is Gawain Secretly (Or Not-So-Secretly) a Changeling” with ‘every time he puts something down it always seems to move just within reach when he goes to pick it up’

(If you’re wondering why there isn’t an Arthur, that is a subplot that I just suddenly decided on just now. I was going to have Arthur as a Captain-like ghost but then I was thinking and long story short there’s a tangent here—

It was Arthur’s house. He’s still Mordred’s dad, though here I guess he isn’t their uncle as well, and he left Morgause the house in his will. He heard she was pregnant, and there was a little but if him which knew he could never acknowledge his child but he still wanted to provide in some way. Arthur doesn’t have to be a bad parent.

Incidentally this also solves why the brothers didn’t really know about the house before rather than “Morgause wasn’t a big fan of the country”.)

(OH MY GOD also so Guin isn’t a ghost either bc I wanted her alive. So now she’s an important plot point. She moved into the outskirts of the nearby village because she liked the area but didn’t want to contest for a massive empty house. Anyway she’s smart and despite the problems her and her late husband went through, she does respect him for this. So eventually the Orkneys will have to go for a discovery on the house’s secrets aka there are ghosts and so they will find Guin and discover the Truth. It’s all coming together now lads)

They invite their neighbours over for dinner one night: the house needs some pretty desperate renovating, but it’s now moderately liveable at least and, according to Gawain, this requires a party.

So invite them over he does. The ones to the left, a couple named Tristan and Isolde, though Gaheris swears that when they were introduced in the village Isolde looked completely different, and the ones to the right, Morgan and Vivian. They pass a very pleasant evening, despite the fact that a fox manages to get on the roof.

No one is sure how.

Gaheris and Agravaine are charged with rescuing it, which is by far the stupidest decision Gawain has ever made. However, despite them all living together, the brothers are really not in a brilliant harmony yet, and so Gawain sends those two off whilst he entertains their guests.

The two of them are staring out the window at the fox for a while before Gaheris dares Agravaine to climb up. He doesn’t want to, but Gaheris is his little brother, and if he passes over a dare from him he’ll never hear the end of it. So he climbs out.

It’s a dry night. But it was not a dry day. And the leaves packed on all the footholds are wet and slippery, and Agravaine—

Falls—

And hits the ground, several stories below.

They’re all terrified, of course, regretting every moment they spent apart or arguing. Agravaine is declared legally dead for fourteen minutes, and it is the worst fourteen minutes of any of their lives. But finally— finally— the doctors emerge to tell them that their brother is resting, but is expected to make a full recovery.

Which he does! There are several more doctor’s appointments and physiotherapists scheduled, but eventually he can return to house. (Unsurprisingly, the arguing starts again quickly.)

There is, however, one major difference.

Agravaine can now also see the ghosts.

Mordred, having been able to see them all his life, had not considered this possibility, and thus does not prepare.

Agravaine discovers these new abilities when he walks into a room to find Mordred, pretending to be on a phone call, chatting away with Clarissant whilst Lamorak inexplicably floats nearby. He stares, screams, and blacks out.

When he comes to after a moment he is faced with a lengthy, surprisingly bored conversation with Mordred, and seriously considers blacking out again. Lamorak has not left the room despite his presence being an inevitable disaster, and Agravaine perhaps unsurprisingly decides that He is to be the newest mortal enemy in Agravaine’s list.

(Lamorak is silently gratified that he is on lists for both alive people who can see him, and chooses to ignore the reasoning behind the lists.)

Mordred has been dealing with ghosts for most of his life.

Agravaine has Not.

This means that, pretty quickly, Gawain, Gaheris and Gareth realise something is even more wrong with those two than normal.

And of course they have to come clean.

Gaheris is half convinced that the two have found his conspiracy journal and that this is an elaborate ruse to trick him into confessing love for Nessie or something. Gareth is mostly concerned about the logistics and privacy, though Mordred’s narrated conversations between him and Owain seem to make him much more comfortable with the whole thing. Gawain is genuinely tempted to jump out a window to see if he can join to newly discovered exclusive club of ghost watchers, but eventually decides that it’s too much a risk to his beautiful face.

(Lancelot silently agrees, though it has not escaped his attention that it would be nice if Gawain could actually see him.)

#arthuriana #rey thank u this is the best ask ever #i got so carried away i’m so sorry #the ghosts were just a game of ‘i love these characters and you can’t stop me’#but i’m not tagging them all #just #orkney clan #gawain #agravaine #gaheris #mordred #gareth #the fox is reynard #if you were wondering it is astolet elaine not corbenic elaine #in a more extended version of this her and lancelot best friends #arthurian literature #arthurian legend #bbc ghosts

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period-dramallama · 4 years ago

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A skim read of jean plaidy’s St Thomas Eve

For @thalassodromid bc this is our Niche

General thoughts on quality (TLDR)

-First off, I should give this book something of a pass because it was written 60+ years ago. Historical research, like science, Marches On.

-I skimmed it because i was not loving the style. There’s very little description, the pacing feels like This Happened And Then This Happened. With this story, you should have a sense of the stakes, the tension. It lacks atmosphere.

-This book really didn’t spark much emotion in me. I was heartwarmed and amused, but never frightened, horrified, fascinated or upset. I felt no panic when Meg got the sweat.

-Honestly i was so bored I started wondering if maybe this is too difficult a story to tell, because i came in loving these historical figures and wanting content. How bored must the unobsessed reader be?

-Show don’t tell, Jean! Don’t tell me everyone’s very upset, show me them upset. Don’t tell me Meg loves Thomas, show their bond. Don’t tell me everyone loves Thomas for his honesty, show me him helping his neighbours.

-To be fair, there’s a lot to get through in 260 pages.

-I just love how historical fiction pulp novels have Book Club questions at the back. It just feels rather cocky, imo. Like you think your book is Deep enough for me to sit and ponder the characters. Like there was a question that was something like: “do you prefer Katherine of Aragon or Anne Boleyn” which was kind of hilarious because the whole book it was Poor Loyal Old Ugly Katherine and Six Fingered Anne Boleyn Is A Minx And Wants Thomas More Dead

Pet peeves

-at the beginning of the book, it says “Secretly Henry VII was unbothered by his wife’s death” or something along those lines. Given that Henry VII locked himself away after Elizabeth died and his mum had to step in and rule because he stopped functioning, this left a bitter taste in my mouth. Henry VII in this book is a Mean Evil Miser so of course he can’t love or be loved by a Good Woman.

-John More jnr being described as the family dunce. To be fair, maybe the book came out before we knew he was a translator too, but STILL. Don’t put John down to raise the girls up. He is valid too.

-the language is what my old tutor would call ‘mock Tudor’. I think it was expected at the time that you had to try and make the language authentic- The Blanket of the Dark and the Man on a Donkey both use Tudor language. It really made the dialogue annoying. Lots of ‘tis and ‘twas and it was this close to beshrew me verily and hey fucking nonny nonny. Every time Alice said fuckign ‘Tilly valley’ I went AAAARGGGH. JUST HAVE HER SAY THE WORD ‘NONSENSE’. There’s a happy middle, imo, between too Tudor and too modern, and it’s quite a broad middle, you can move around a lot in it, but there are limits.

-SPEAKING OF ALICE. Her character introduction was so good- first described as ‘an authoritative feminine voice’ *chef’s kiss* she stops a fainting Jane from being trampled at Henry’s coronation, accompanies her home and cares for her while simultaneously lowkey roasting her interior decoration. But then she becomes a bit of a caricature. When Meg gets the sweat she nags her for going near anyone who might have the sweat. The book club questions say ‘there’s more to her than meets the eye’ THEN SHOW ME MORE THAN ONE SIDE OF HER. Also Thomas loves her even though she’s ‘rude and stupid’ but Meg doesn’t understand why. Grr.

-”mistress middleton will hear you [2 year old John] crying and box your ears” NO NO NO NO NO!

-also i get a 1950s Spanking Children Is Good Parenting vibe because Alice hits the Morelings with a slipper if they don’t study, and Tm’s described as too much of “a coward” (literally the word coward is used) to hit his children other than with peacock feathers.

-Utopia being described as an ideal state...it’s really more than that. I don’t like the idea that Meg and Thomas were okay with religious toleration but then Thomas became Consumed With Hate and he says “well religious toleration would be great in an IDEAL state...”

-Meg being horrified by heretic burning. Maybe the evidence of her views wasn’t yet available and so social mores of the 50s meant that writers and historians assumed that Of Course Being a Delicate Woman She Would Have A Natural Desire For Peace And Mercy. Grr.

-Too romancey. To be fair, Jean Plaidy wrote a lot of historical romances so maybe that’s just what she’s comfortable with (and these are historical figures that never get a chance to shine) but between Meg and Will, Clement and Mercy, Joan and Thomas, Giles and Cecily... it’s a bit like Pearl Harbour in that it’s hard to care about the cute romance when men are getting burned alive in the background. A good historical romance is more like Titanic: the lovers are directly connected with the Big Historical Events ongoing. Skip!

-in this book, Mercy thinks to herself that Meg would have Tm sign the oath, but Mercy would prefer tm to do as his conscience dictates...that feels like the wrong way round.

-Erasmus and Thomas More speaking in English...Doubt.jpeg.

-Thomas More muses on how Complex men are because there’s Proud Cold Thomas Howard who is Soft for Simple Launderess Bess Holland...yeah given the multiple colossal power imbalances in that real-life affair, I’d be very surprised if it never strayed into abuse.

-baby Meg is a lil too precocious.

-dying Joan tells Meg to look after her father, no Joan stop I love you but don’t give a six year old responsibility, I don’t care if she’s six but acts eleven, looking after TM is Alice’s job not Meg’s.

-Tm using the phrase ‘our little secret’ with Meg. The context is not abusive, but the phrase is so weighted, it’s like referring to something as “a final solution”: the famous meaning is too horrifying to feel comfortable with that combination of words in any context at all.

-Joan’s younger sister being described as beautiful and flirtatious, and the whole bit about More fancying the younger sister but going for the older out of honour. The book says that More’s fascination with joan’s sister is the reason he realised he couldn’t be a priest. Given Joan’s 16, her sister’s 15 at the oldest, possibly 14. So a 26 year old can’t be a priest because he’s lusting after a 14-15 year old girl who is attractive and who has been flirting with him. Squick.

-also no mention of erasmus at the end of tm’s life. Boo. I think a dude in the tower would think about his BFF of 30+ years who he hasn’t seen for 10+ years

Good bits

-It’s obviously unintentional, but given how the word ‘gay’ has changed, i gave a little cheer every time a character was described as gay. Cecily and John are both gay, Thomas More is very gay, and later in the book wishes he could go back to being gay again. Loving the accidental representation

-”a boy who is not worth the tossing” i have a dirty mind ok

-Joan getting something of a personality! She even feels insecure because she’s a normal person stuck in a family of geniuses.

-George Boleyn is described as being ‘a bright boy’ and later the girls joke that if they meet him they’ll probably fall in love THIS SO REFRESHING. Otoh, Mary Boleyn is slutshamed and Anne is a scheming minx so the double standard does spoil it a little.

-Thomas More makes puns! At one point Alice says “more’s the pity” and then immediately says “don’t you dare make a pun out of that. i know u will. DON’T I AM NOT IN THE MOOD FOR PUNS” Granted, Plaidy stresses that his wit is never cruel or mocking (Doubt.jpeg) but i think this is maybe the funniest More.

-It acknowledges the heretic burning! Not bad for 1950-something. At the end there’s a sort of Hm Thomas More Is A Complex Dude How Do We Approach Him page from H8′s POV.

-More’s father getting all misty-eyed when his son becomes Chancellor

-Henry VIII kissing tm’s forehead

-the flogging of the mentally ill upskirter being depicted

-Wolsey not being a caricature but a worldly and practical man. He’s explicitly described as “not a bad man”

-”He [TM] was no Erasmus, who, having thrown the stone that shattered the glass of orthodox thought, must run and hide himself lest he should be hurt by the splinters” not a very fair way to depict Erasmus (as he spent a lot of the last decades of his life arguing against Luther and trying to mediate between religious factions, esp in Basel) However, I like the metaphor

-Meg talking about how she and her sisters will always compare men unfavourably to their father... understandable.

-More explaining why Heretic Burning is Good Actually is done well

-Meg pointing out that More and Erasmus both criticised the Church, only it’s a bit half-baked because More never experiences any doubt or crisis over it.

-Meg being torn between the Lutheran and the Catholic men she loves is at least some conflict and stakes when it finally shows up.

-Alice standing trial for dogknapping on page 195. A Big Lipped Alligator Moment, and I’ve no idea the source (i doubt Plaidy would make it up completely, it’s so out of nowhere) but it’s fun. It feels like one of More’s ‘merry tales’

“[Erasmus] read aloud to Thomas when he came home; and sometimes Thomas would sit by his friend’s bed with Margaret on one side of him and Mercy on the other; he would put an arm about them both, and when he laughed and complimented Erasmus so that Erasmus’ pale face was flushed with pleasure, then Margaret believed that there was all the happiness in the world in that room.” my emotions! my emotions! my ship is sailing, i repeat, the ship is sailing!

-”Meg, this is one of the happiest days of my life. it is a day I shall remember on the day i die. i shall say to myself when i find death near me: ‘the great erasmus said that of my daughter, my meg.’”

-”So the King likes verses!” said mistress middleton, her voice softening a little.

“Ah, madam,” said Thomas. “What the King likes today, may we hope Mistress Middleton will like tomorrow?” Do I smell... flirtation...

-”His face was pleasant and kindly, [Alice] concluded....She would like to feed him some of her possets, put a layer of fat on his bones with her butter.” Does this version of Alice have a feeding kink I definitely think, in this ‘verse, Tm and Alice are 100% having sex.

-John Colet’s in it, though described as tm’s confessor (who i think was actually grocyn or linacre)

-Alice clearing a path for a fainting Jane with “Stand aside, you oafs.” alexa, play X gon give it to you.

#historical fiction #warning: very very long post

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aresfms · 5 years ago

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「 harry styles. cismale. he/him. 」i hope that #lexsquad member「 ARES BYERS 」adds me to the squad ! the 「 TWENTY THREE 」year old 「 FINANCE 」 major has been apart of the squad since 「 DECEMBER 2018 」and seems to be the 「 THE RECUSANT」of the group.「 ARES 」is a「 SENIOR 」 and seems to enjoy 「 BOXING AND SOCCER 」but you can always find them at a squad party , too !

listen don’t say i didn’t warn you, this is a lil long. but if you guys are interested in any connections ( scroll down to the end for some ideas ) then pls hit me up. im so ready.

okay basically i’ll do a summary in case y’all dont wanna read his SAD story. tw: domestic abuse, abandonment, alcohol abuse.

Summary: ARES BYERS, 23, SENIOR.

A finance major at LexU.

He’s currently doing both soccer and boxing, but soccer would be for his athletic scholarship. ( he has a full ride )

Boxing would definitely be like more of an anger relief thing and honestly, he defs loves soccer but he knows he can’t rely on that for a forever thing. plus he defs things boxing is good money, yknow that side hustle illegal shit

Loves art like a lot.

He visits his siblings probably every other day or whenever he can because he really is so protective of them or he’d even bring them to campus all the time even though his “ step dad” hates it.

His relationship with his mum is still super strained because she really is in denial about her toxic abusive situation with his “step dad” and hes trying to tell her hes going to get her out and she just does not want to.

His mum is an alcoholic and his stepdad is physically abusive to them like most of her past partners which is something ares has been dealing with since he was a child.

hes solely doing finance to get a good job to get his mum and siblings out of the situation theyre in now.

he wants sole custody of his 3 siblings but i mean, he needs a stable job and place to live aka finance

has 3 younger sisters who he adores.

HISTORY STUFF ( YIKES SOZ ) Its long everybody.

He was born to teenage parents who hadn’t even graduated high school yet. They had a pretty tumultuous situation and his dad really didn’t think they should have a kid, but his mum thought that it would bring them closer together and make his dad mature…. Which definitely didn’t end up happening.

once Ares was born his dad stuck around for about a year or two before basically abandoning them and offering to give up parental rights to his mum Alycia.

That’s when things basically just went downhill. It really messed with his mum, obviously she was supporting ares on her own with no support from anyone, no family and very little money, at the time she had been trying to go to school but had to give that up once she was the sole provider for Ares. And the fact that someone she thought was going to be her partner abandoned her just led her down a pretty dark path.

It was just his mum and him after this. There wasn’t a lot of stability for them. His mum for a while was the only family he had. his grandma wasn’t really very supportive of his mum having the baby and living with his dad etc and they’re relationship was quite strained too.

• By the time Ares was about 12 he was already probably mature beyond his years, his mum by then had basically gave herself up to alcohol and had some pretty bad shady boyfriends in the house. Ares would definitely still vividly remember like explosive fights between her and boyfriends where things got physical between them and even to Ares from multiple different boyfriends.

His schooling was just.. a mess he definitely repeated a grade or two because of the commotion of home life.

Regardless though he was still VERY protective of his mum even if he felt pretty abandoned by her, he was just confused why she was letting these people come around when they were better on just the two of them. But that really didn’t last long, his mum ended up having multiple other kids with different people.

So he has Maeva, Orion and Lea who are his half siblings and theyre all under 12.

I think he definitely grew up faster than most because he always felt an urge to protect his mum and his siblings now especially. he worried about them all. He was definitely an anxious kid.

• His mum ended up marrying but honestly Ares couldn’t hate his stepfather more. He would refuse and still does refuse to call him dad or stepdad because he truly thinks he’s a piece of shit. Like he knows he treats his mum like shit and hes had no problem being physical with the both of them and once ares got old enough he really did start fighting back which only made it worse.

There’s probably been multiple times where its been ares calling the police on him after he fought with his mum but as usual his mum always takes his side which honestly fucked ares up constantly but eventually as soon as he could he was working even at like 13/14 because he was desperate to save money thinking he could help his family get out of the fucking mess they were in.

His number one priority is and will always be his mum and his sisters even though deep down I think he has some kind of resentment towards his mum he’ll always love her. He just wishes that she would take his side especially against his “ step dad”

Basically though once he was about that age he realised he really needed to start focusing on school, grades and sport anything he could so he had some kind of chance to get into a good uni and get his family out of everything. Like he knew he’d need somewhere he could get a full ride since theyd never be able to afford it and somewhere still nearby so he could look after his sisters still.

His stepdad knew though that ares was working even when he wasn’t supposed to be and he really took advantage of that, he was definitely beyond lazy and ares basically always felt more of a parent to his sister than anyone else.

So basically he ended up graduating – late however he was 19 when he graduated high school because of repeats and luckily enough he got a full ride to Lexington university and he really took it within a heartbeat. He ended up choosing finance not because its anything he’s interested in but because he wanted something that would pay really well so he can support his family, but he knew he didn’t have 8 years to do medical school etc.

Personality:

he can have a shitty attitude won’t lie, like he’s very focused and set on what he wants and needs to do and he wants no one getting in the way of that.

He’s super into boxing to release a lot of the pent up anger he obviously feels and really because he wanted to know how to fight back all the assholes his mum had in his life.

He is can be extroverted and talkative but I think with the people who aren’t close to him or to people he doesn’t have a real trust in it’s probably a pretty surface level. Its never about his family or past in fact I think that part would be something very few if any people know about.

his sisters aka his pride and joy, he probs has pictures of them in his wallet.

He likes to keep things light hearted as a distraction from himself but he definitely doesn’t let people in easily.

He really tries to avoid confrontation because it’s so triggering to him but he does have a temper which is what scares him. He is like paranoid he’s going to become a product of his environment so he goes against that as much as he can but if people come for his family or anything he would lose it.

Can be aloof.

Has a hard time trusting anyone has good motives or will stick around because of much he’s been abandoned and how manipulative the people in his mums were.

He’s cynical.

He really holds onto grudges pretty easily.

His ass is pretty sarcastic and witty, a huge smart ass.

He’s not into commitment right now or he’s avoiding. Like the only examples he’s ever seen of relationships have been a mess and it’s not exactly his priority. ( but lbr  whats the fun in that. )

He tries to abstain from alcohol but he finds that pretty hard. When he does he tends to drink pretty heavily which is why he tries not to because he knows it obviously has caused his mum so much grief.

Hes an escapist.

He’s really super protective though, of the people he does have in his life I think he really wants to give those people the things he didn’t have so he overcompensates and would literally fight whatever or whoever for the people around him.

he hates authority.

•He definitely is really big into art but that’s also something really personal he doesn’t share much and he knows like that isn’t going to provide for his family which is exactly why he's done finance.

Connections:

MY FAVE PART!!!

Long lost half sibling aka the child his dad had after he abandoned him

Someone who is a super good influence on his sisters ( id die for this.. )

Strangers who found out they were hooking up with the same person then became friends or enemies. ( my man a nastie sometimes. )

A FWB someone he can mess with and end up talk a little deeply with bc they think its not serious.

ANYONE who is a kid of one of his mums exes, like someone she dated, bc whew why not.

a rebound, someone he used to try to get over his ex!!

a fucking roomie plssss :) ( or past roomie, he lived off campus for 3 years so defs room for multiples ) this person rlly saw... everything

someone who went on a couple dates/ messed around but then realised omg we’d be so much better off as friends, somoene who rlly has each others back.

ooo someone who has an unrequited crush on him

Or someone he hates but yknow someone who he has mad sexual tension with ( hate meaning they lowkey would ravage each other )

One of his close confidants, someone who is basically one of the few people he can confide in.

An “ex “ who he broke up without much explanation.

His dealer ( smh im the worst )

Some co workers that has his back.

Potentially someone he’s fought against esp someone who does boxing too. es

Someone on his soccer team.

he very into art, so potentially someone who he might connect or do that with, he defs shows stuff sometimes but VVVV rarely.

someone he maybe wasnt that close w/ but he knows from back home so they’d suspect about his home life and he just is not having the prying :)

Honestly any connections im down. THE USUAL, bestfriends, etc etc

#lex.intro #OMG guys bring me like any connections #bc all i live for. is that and drama #:)

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euphoricethan · 5 years ago

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Bubbles - G.D

Summary: After Grayson comes home from a very late shift, he offers Y/n to take a bath with him to reveal some news to her.

Warnings: so much fluff. So much.

Word count: 1.5k

Why do we get blessed with the earths greatest gifts? We may never know.

Or maybe, the earth, or the universe knows what we need or when we need someone / something most.

All she does know, is that whoever is in charge of what goes down, has blessed her with Grayson. And she couldn’t be more grateful.

Grayson is a combination of things.

Kind, well-mannered, loud, very overprotective, she could go on, but overall, he was just, Grayson.

She knows that twins can be thought of as being the same person just split in two, but there are so many things different between Ethan and him.

Their personalities are beyond different it’s crazy.

Ethan isn’t much an extrovert as Grayson. He likes to stay inside most times where it’s cool and not hot. Grayson on the other hand will be by the pool taking in the sun while he can.

Ethan isn’t as loud, (sometimes) and he can manage his anger a lot better than Grayson.

Grayson gets frustrated when something inconvenient happens, or when he tries doing a task and he doesn’t get it spot on the first try, he yells like a maniac.

He’s got patience, but not much.

But, when it comes to her, patience is his middle name.

He tries not to yell at her, ever, and makes sure to give her a fighting change when he does get upset so she can reason with him.

There has only been one time where his temper had gotten the best of him.

It was Christmas Eve, and her, Grayson and E where back in New Jersey for the holidays.

The two of them were bundled up in the recliner, just relaxing with the rest of his family after they had just finished dinner.

Everyone was playing white elephant, a Christmas game that they have played for years. And Y/n didn’t quite understand fully on the rules.

So, she grabbed ahold of a small box that had a neatly written: #4 and started unwrapping it.

Grayson watched her carefully, as, he wanted to see the look on her face when she was faced to see the diamond studs that he had saved money for for months.

She smiled at the gift, totally blindsided by the fact that Grayson had specifically gifted them to her and made sure no one else had chosen it.

Sure he could have given the gift to her the next morning when they opened the rest of the presents, but it was her first Christmas with his family and he wanted to make it special.

“Here, lets trade.” She said to his younger cousin, handing her the small box and reaching for the stuffed animal she had gotten.

“No, Y/n—” Ethan said trying to tell her that that’s not how the game worked.

“Really?!” She screeched, gladly taking the earnings into her hand and smiling at them with excitement.

“Wait, what did I do?” Y/n asked, now looking up at everyone who was staring her down.

No one said a word, afraid of ruining the surprise that Grayson had planned for her.

He had a matching necklace too. And he was going to give it to her the next morning right before she woke up.

She finally turned to see Grayson, who was red at the face and his eyes darting to his little cousin who had her small greasy fingers all over the diamonds.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something? Wait, what did I do?” She quickly spoke, looking around all Ethan and Grayson’s family members who where in shock.

Ethan sat back in his chair, looking over at his brother who was contemplating so many things.

He couldn’t take the earnings from Riley because she would be completely heartbroken, and even if he did Y/n would be confused and he didn’t want to make her feel bad for giving them to Riley when they were actually hers.

He was torn between the two.

“Y/n, I uh, gotta talk to you.” He told her, gently pushing her off his lap and gripping at her arm to pull her into the family’s kitchen.

“What did I do?” She asked again, trying to find the answer in his eyes that he refused to give her.

He only sighed, looking down at the floor before running his hands through his soft hair.

“What didn’t you do?”

He didn’t mean to snap, and he should’ve have; since poor Y/n didn’t fully understand the concept of White Elephant and was just trying to be generous.

She furrowed her brows at him, completely confused and trying to figure out what she did to upset him.

“Gray, I’m sorry I—”

“Just forget it Y/n,” his hands were balled up at his sides, the anger that he was trying to hold back slipping out in the tone in his voice.

“No, Grayson, really. I’m sorry. Whatever I did to make you upset I didn’t mean to—”

“I said forget it!” He now yelled, turning heads of relatives that were secretly eavesdropping from the other room.

Ethan shot up from his placement in the living room, coming up behind Y/n to see salt water pooling in her eyes as they both watched Grayson exit the house with a loud slam to the front door.

He had never yelled at her like that. Not ever.

And that was the last time it happened.

As of now, this very second, he gently closed the front door to their apartment in Los Angeles from a long hard day at work.

Or, his last day you could say.

It was around four am, —one of his longer shifts that started at nine— and proceeded to quietly walk into where Y/n was sleeping.

Or so he thought.

She sat up as soon as the light flicked on, watching his buff figure stand still in the frame of the door scared that he woke her.

“Did I wake you?” He asked her gently, a soft whisper rather.

She shook her head at him. She never got good sleep whenever he worked graveyard shifts.

“How was work?” She now asked him, watching his movements with her eyes as he stripped of his heavy work boots and white shirt that had been demolished and covered in dirt.

“It was, uh, good. Same old same old.”

“Hm. Well, are you gonna come to bed or take a shower first?”

Grayson placed his hands onto his hips, then ran his hand through his hair before he sighed.

“Well uh, actually, I was gonna ask if you wanted to take a bath with me,”

Y/n was astonished, she was surprised that he would want do what they had called their zen time at at least almost five am.

But even if she wanted to say no, his wondering eyes made her question if it was something more just wanting her to join him.

“Is there something wrong bear?” She asked now sitting up fully in the bed.

“Well, um, kinda.” He reached for the back of his neck, tugging at the tight skin that had formed a knock due to quick stress.

There Y/n and Grayson sat, backs to both ends to the tub, bubbles practicing overflowing and surrounded by warmth.

“I got laid off of work.” He bluntly told her, catching her mid sentence asking if the water was too hot.

He didn’t mean to cut her off but it had just been bothering him ever since he got the news and it had been viciously eating him alive from the inside.

She glanced over to him, now looking into the depths of his eyes that carried small specks of green in them when in the right angle.

“Oh,”

“I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner when it happened but I didn’t want to wake you and give you bad news but I also didn’t want to wait until tomorrow in the morning because, well— you know, you’re busy and I thought this is the only time we would be able to—”

“Woah, woah, woah. So down; breathe.”

She reached forward, gripping onto his hand that was just above the surface.

“Do you need your inhaler?” Y/n asked.

He just shook his head while taking in a deep breath.

“Now. Talk slowly.”

Grayson took another deep breath in before he started up again. “Well it’s just, your so busy with your own stuff and I’m nearly at work all night we never get to see each other. I know this is for special occasions only but it was kinda important.”

“Kinda? Grayson, this is important shit were talking about. Like, our relationship.” Y/n sighed. “I didn’t realize it was getting you so worked up.”

“Are you mad?”

She scoffed. “Why would I be mad? Just because you lost your job? Which first of all, why in hell would they fire someone like you. You’ve got great leadership skills, jacked as shit, and have an amazing work ethic! I mean I just—”

“I’m not mad. And I never would be. This just shows that it was meant to be I guess. Now that your not taking the late shifts because no one else would, means we can see each other more. Maybe even go on dates. Ouu.”

Grayson let out a small wheeze, catching a few pieces of spare bubbles that he had on his face from making a beard.

“I’ll get your inhaler.”

Here’s another something from March :). This ones for @peachydols bc she’s a pain in my ass tehe.

Also whoops idk the difference between a blurb and whole imagine so sor.

#eeswork #grayson dolan #gray #dolan twins #grayson #bubbles #grayson dolan imagine #e #eth #ethan dolan #ethan

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sergeanttpoliteness · 6 years ago

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➹puppy love➹(peter b. parker x reader)

Requested by @connorshero➝ “Something fluffy and sweet: Peter B surprises Reader (his best friend, who he's in love with) with a puppy after Reader lost their previous puppers.”

Forget listening to sad songs as you eat pizza that burns the roof of your mouth— Peter B. Parker believes a puppy is the medicine for a grieving heart.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: finally, i wrote something short. hello! i’m sorry this took so long, @connorshero , i’m going to be 100% honest and admit that i struggled quite a bit lol— i wrote the entire thing but i decided to delete it and start over bc i wasn’t happy with it. but i finally finished and here it is! requests are open, so feel free to send some if you want (: hope you enjoy!

A desperate thumping on your front door along with the fierce crackle of the storm roused you from the light slumber you didn’t even know you had succumbed to, your body jerking as you choked on the drool that had managed to slip down your chin. You grimaced, wiping the gross saliva off of your face with one hand while the other rubbed your eye. You sat on your floor, your back against your sofa which explained your sore neck and shoulders, staring at the carpet until the knocking returned and brought you fully back to consciousness. You didn’t know what time it was— it felt as if an entire year had gone by whilst you slept, honestly, but you were certain it was too late for it to be your landlord reminding you about your rent payment. You clumsily stood to your feet, the lack of illumination dooming you to knock your shin into the sharp edge of the coffee table. You screamed, but continued limping toward the door anyway, flinging the door open with a scowl as you held onto your throbbing leg. Your expression softened, however, and your brows drew together for in front of you stood a dripping wet Peter B. Parker wearing a large coat that barely covered the red and blue suit underneath it, and… holding a puppy covered in dirt?

“What the fuck?” You muttered, suddenly fully awake. It was an odd and unkind greeting, but Peter really couldn’t blame you for your reaction. He opened his mouth, laughing nervously as his eyes shifted down to the creature in his grasp.

“Hey? Sorry if I woke you up, I just… kinda had an emergency.” He nestled the puppy on his chest and your attention came back to it. The animal shivered wildly, and so did your best friend who smiled at you while his teeth chattered.

You silently moved aside for him to walk in, your brain working hard to figure out what in the world was happening and trying to arrange all the questions speeding by. Peter briefly studied the living room— images of days prior, when he embraced you as you dampened his neck with your tears in that same spot he was in, flashing through his eyes. A twinge of worry invaded him when he took in the abandoned box of pizza on the couch, and the two empty cans of beer littering your red rug. Meanwhile, you might as well have heard the dog talk, because your stunned face— eyes as big as a full moon, your eyebrows almost reaching your hairline— represented just that as you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the stray puppy huddled against the man. “Oh my god,” You finally said, gasping and your hand reaching out to hang above its head. “Why do you have a puppy with you?”

“It was a surprise, to say the least.” He allowed you to take the animal from him, groaning when he saw the grime on his hands and coat. You didn’t mind much about the dirt, though, as it was a dog; laundry day was tomorrow, you told yourself as you hugged the puppy like a young child with their favorite stuffed animal. “I was in an alleyway when I heard something break behind me and so I went to investigate, but instead of a homeless person or something, I found this little girl right here.”

“And you decided to take her with you?”

“Well, yeah, we… had a connection.”

A lovely trail of footprints and droplets of mud now adorned your floor which you had actually swept hours earlier; not the makeover you wanted, exactly, and it would’ve irked you except that you were too exhausted and confused to save a place for an extra emotion. You glanced back at Peter, studying his shivering body, and sighed. The man could be bleeding out to death, yet he wouldn’t complain nor do much about it unless you physically dragged him to a nearby hospital; it wasn’t an exaggeration, rather a characteristic of his you gathered after having a friendship with him since prehistoric times, but also since (to your dismay) the exact same scenario had occurred many times before. “You had a connection, huh? Alright, dork, I bet there’s a forgotten collection of your clothes in my closet— go get changed while I get the bath ready.”

There was a certain weakness that threatened to attack Peter, and the fact that he was freezing after swinging to your apartment in the ruthless downpour easily might have been the culprit of that; but as bad as he wanted it to be that way, it was evident in his heart that you were the true delinquent— you, with your tangled hair perhaps from the slumber he disrupted, with just your presence really, continued to transform him into a teenager who wrote long melodramatic poems about his crush and doodled their initials on his school notes during class. It was absurd, truthfully, how you managed to do such thing to a fully-grown man. But you were his time machine, his youth potion, that remedy that allowed him to see life as colorful as a pure child did, and he’d never complain about it, because that’s just what he needed all the time.

Peter had forgotten about the pile of clothes belonging to him that neatly rested on one shelf of your closet. Ever since you two were in college— when he’d pretty much constantly live in your apartment for an entire week— you’d been assembling the shirts and other articles of clothing the man often left behind as if clothes were as expensive as a carton of milk that’s about to expire. So that’s where that shirt went, he thought as his eyes settled on a green flannel he used to wear religiously back before Christ, partially because you always voiced how much you liked how he looked with it. You’d truly had him wrapped around your finger for the longest time, he realized, and yet he’d never had the guts to make a move. That frustration abandoned him, however, when he put on an old shirt and it smelled like you; there was that youthfulness again as contentment pecked his entire face, coloring his skin a rosy tint. Like a new man, he headed down the hallway to the bathroom where he could hear water running. He peeked his head inside, the corner of his lips tugging upwards when he saw you on the floor caressing the puppy on your lap and talking to it. “I see you two already became friends.”

You looked up at him, directing to him a tired twitch of your mouth. “You better be scared, ‘cause your title of best friend is at risk. Could you close the door?” You gestured your head toward the entrance and your wish was his command as a gentle click left the bathroom’s door when he closed it.

“Again, sorry about bothering you. I just didn’t know where else to go, and you’re the best person I know when it comes to dogs.” He shrugged, descending to sit down in front of you, his knees uncomfortably tucked close to his chest to fit his long legs in the small room. The puppy forgot about you, and was determined to snuggle under Peter’s knees as he jumped off of you. “No! I just changed!” He groaned and wriggled away from the animal into the wall.

You giggled, quickly grabbing the excited creature before it tragically attacked your friend’s immaculate clothes. “I don’t really mind, honestly. I wasn’t exactly having the best night anyway; so thanks, Prince Charming, for coming to rescue me with a stray puppy— hic!” You hiccuped, the alcohol finally getting to you. You stood up, waving your hand which you weren’t cradling the puppy with for him to do so as well.

He hummed, amused, his hand on his hip as you closed the faucet. “I’m excellent when it comes to bathing dogs.” You glanced back at him, quirking a brow and narrowing your eyes.

“You sure? Because every time I asked you to help me give Webster a bath you just watched while I did all the work.” A grin may have remained on your features, but the rain cloud of sorrow that showered over you was evident after you mentioned that one name— the one you used to cheerfully call all the time, but now tried to avoid at every chance you got. Peter noticed, his eyes sad, but he elbowed you playfully hoping that it would help somehow, even if just a little bit.

“Lies, I think I did a pretty good job at holding him still.” It was unavoidable, no matter how hard he could’ve fought, the dreamy smile that etched on his face simply as a consequence of your empyrean laugh; such a minor thing that had a tremendous effect on him, and it embarrassed him, but again, he wouldn’t ever complain. It was baffling how you’d never noticed the stares that lasted too long whilst you just existed, or the utter and raw infatuation his eyes burned with as you smirked up at him.

“Sure, keep lying to yourself. I really need you to help me, though, because this girl is a shit ton more hyper than… uh, you know.” Peter recalled in his head the trip to your place and the humiliating amount of times he yelped while swinging as the dog would continuously squirm out of his grasp and attempt to climb onto his shoulder. He nodded, releasing a big puff of air because you had no idea. You grabbed a red a bucket from the cabinet and handed it to him. “Okay, just use this to pour the water over her.”

“Am I going to get something if I do a great job? You know, like a sticker?”

You shrugged, kneeling down before the bathtub. “I don’t know. A kiss, maybe.” You stared back at him when moments passed and he didn’t say anything, both of your faces as red as the bucket he shakily held. “It was a joke. C’mon, get down.”

He waited for you to take your words back, or maybe add something along the lines of “but if you’re down so am I” if the cosmos decided to bless him for once. You remained quiet, though, and a quiet sigh slipped through his lips as he decided to leave it behind for his own sanity’s sake. “Why did you make me stand up if we were gonna get back on the floor again?” He grumbled, following you suit. He looked at you confused when you began to laugh at him. Was he still blushing? You did always make fun of him when he blushed. “What?”

“Why are you making those dad noises?”

“Me? Dad noises?”

“Yeah, like—” You let out a low grunt, your lips puckered and your eyebrows scrunched together, and then breathed out obnoxiously loud and heavy. “That’s what you sound like— hic!” You hiccuped for a second time, and he threw his head back as he laughed.

“Shut up, you can’t even handle drinking two cans of beer, look at you right now.” He teased, the many times you’ve flirted with him throughout the years after getting hammered with a ridiculous quantity of alcohol in the back of his head. He stretched out his arms, making grabby hands at the puppy, the bucket abandoned and floating in the water. “Gimme.”

Your mouth curved into a smile at his childlike actions as you carefully placed the creature in his hold. “I can’t believe you’re such a dad, but also a man-child, it’s adorable.”

He chose to say nothing, lest his voice decided to backstab him and crack like a fourteen-year-old boy during an oral presentation. He took a deep breath, instead focusing on the dog who believed it was a menacing beast as it chewed on his finger, and the grey layer of mud covering its short fur. He frowned, thinking of different scenarios of how the poor pup could’ve possibly ended up such way, none happy. He filled the plastic bucket with water before draining it slowly down its back, revealing its true dark brown color. “She’s so cute, I might have to cry.” He mumbled, his expression strangely serious in spite of his words.

“What are you gonna do with her?” There was a glint of what he wished was hope in your tone, anticipation clouding your features as you tried to nonchalantly squirt a generous amount of dog shampoo on the palm of your hand.

The animal tried to escape as he rinsed the grime but he held it in its place while he waited for you to start washing it. He raised his shoulders, glancing sideways at you. “I don’t know, I guess I’ll take her to a shelter or something.” You almost announced your disappointment, but you nodded, drawing your lower lip between your teeth. “You look disappointed.”

“Me?”

“Uh, no, the fucking ghost in your bathroom.” He said sarcastically. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, of course I meant you.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you massaged the shampoo into the puppy you cared about too much despite only knowing it for less than thirty minutes, creating enough foam that miniature bubbles drifted in the air. “Did you know that my apartment is haunted?”

Peter snorted at your spontaneity. “Oh, is it?” In a mere second, however, he completely tuned out everything along with your response; all purely because of the accidental caress you gave his hand as you scrubbed the dog’s loin. Was it accidental? Your touch lingered for too long for it to be, no? Or was he just overthinking? Most likely. He desperately needed to put himself together, he groaned internally— and if only he’d done so sooner, then he wouldn’t have been too distraught by a hand touch to notice the rapidly approaching mountain of foam on your hand until it was too late. He felt pressure on the top of his head, and that’s when he recognized your hand sliding down the side of his face, lathering the bubbly liquid on his skin. He jumped, pushing your arm away as his eyes widened. “Why did you do that?!”

Your beam was as contagious as a virus as you giggled, your foamy hands proof of your crime. “I asked you something like twenty times and you didn’t answer!” You defended while he wiped his eyebrow with the back of his hand. “Hey, I saw the opportunity and I took it!” Red alarms went off in your head, and you regretted everything when you saw his sly smirk. You lifted your finger up as a warning when he picked up the bucket and loaded it, innocent eyes staring at you. “Don't you— hic!— fucking dare…”

“Your shirt’s kinda dirty. Here, let me clean it for you—” He spilled all the water over your head and you shrieked, wielding yourself with your arms, which was nothing other than pointless as— regardless of your efforts— you still finished entirely soaked. Peter held his fist up to his mouth, wheezing while you glowered at him with wet hair stuck to your forehead.

“You dick…” You chuckled incredulously, giving him no time to feel satisfied before scooping more foam and launching yourself at him, slamming your hand into his mouth.

It was the cafeteria food fight you’d always dreamed of having; except that it was just two people (and a puppy playing in the bathtub) in your bathroom instead of a big cafeteria, and food was exchanged for water in an old bucket close to breaking and wasted dog shampoo with enough bubbles for a little kid to have a stroke from the excitement. Not a degrade, but an upgrade, indeed— one you’d accept without a doubt; even if you could already imagine how much your back would hurt after you mopped up the mess you two made, for it was impossible not to as Peter grinned widely at you with his fake bubbly Santa Claus beard, and you held your soaked stomach as you hysterically laughed. Peter’s body tingled when he thought about dropping all his fears and doubts to crash his yearning lips against yours; to hold your chin with the delicacy you deserved, inundate the room with all his repressed lust and emotion, like a volcano that’s been asleep for eons gushing everything out for the first time in forever. He held himself back, though, like he always did, and just admired your sunshine from afar.

You lounged on your couch, your arm hanging off the side while Peter rested on the floor with his head against your knee, ignoring the discomfort just to be as close to you as possible. It was a well-deserved break after your puppy bath-time-turned-into-a-water-fight as you two watched the clean animal almost do a handstand while trying to eat from the larger bowl. You chuckled, your cheek squished against the cushion. “Did you know I named him Webster because of you?” You mumbled, and you felt Peter’s head graze your knee as he glanced at you, humming questioningly. “Webster. Web.”

“And you waited seventeen years to tell me that?”

“Thought it was sort of obvious.”

“I kinda just thought you were really passionate about the dictionary.” He said and you let out air through your nose, gripping the worn Mickey Mouse blanket wrapped around you. You clutched the memory of Peter gifting you the cloth for your dog’s first birthday close to your heart— the cloth which would become the Australian Shepherd’s most beloved possession, even up till to his last moments and as you said goodbye to him. You sniffed, closing your eyes when your vision began to blur.

“Spidey was an option at first, but I felt really lame calling my dog ‘Spidey’. Plus… he also really reminded me of you.”

His eyes softened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, y’know: brown hair, brown eyes, adorable…” He almost had a heart attack. “He was always there for me and I… I really loved him.” You whispered.

Peter’s stare moved down to your hand, and soon you felt his fingers curl around yours. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I have a confession to make.” You peeked an eye open. “I didn’t just bring the puppy here so you could help me clean her up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I, uh,” He scratched his stubble, trying to find his words. “Webster took care of you when I couldn’t, y’know? Not just that, but I hate seeing how much it hurt you to lose him. It hurt me as well— you saw me bawling my eyes out like a baby when they put him to sleep.” He laughed.

You frowned, giving his hand a squeeze. “Thank you for being there with me. I probably would’ve broken down if it weren’t for you. But why’d you bring the stray puppy here?”

“I know I said I was going to take her to a shelter, but I really just wanted to see your reaction. I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to replace Webster, though, because nothing ever could, and he deserves better than that.”

You then sat up, holding his hand on your lap as you began to understand what he was trying to say. “Peter…” You warned him— you truly weren’t in the mood for a prank, but his voice and features expressed nothing more than honesty. Peter rose from the ground and you immediately followed him, your hands linked as he walked up to the puppy.

“Sorry, bud, but I’m gonna take you for a sec,” He muttered as he bent down and scooped the dog. He faced you, your heart glowing at the sight of his sheepish smile and his giggles whilst the dog began to lick his neck. “I need someone to watch after you now that Webster can’t, and this girl right here is perfectly fit for the job.”

You were aware of how ridiculous you were for tearing up, but it was bound to happen when Peter handed out the puppy— your puppy to you. You gawked at him, taking her gently into your arms, blinking furiously when she washed your knuckles with her tongue. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” He scoffed, although showed you a crooked grin. You couldn’t contain yourself anymore, and took a step closer to him before landing a tender kiss on the corner of his mouth, lightly brushing his lips. He gulped when you pulled away, his eyes going round. “O-oh.”

“It’s not a kiss like I said back in the bathroom, but it’s what you’ll get for now.” You murmured shyly, suddenly your feet much more interesting to look at than the flustered man in front of you or the sweet creature you held. However, once again, you missed that stare of his and his growing smile as his whole face lit up.

“I really can’t complain.”

#peter parker x reader #peter b parker x reader #peter b parker #peter b parker x you #peter b parker x y/n #spider man into the spider verse #sm:itsv #itsv #imagine #peter parker one shot #fem! reader #male!reader #gender neutral

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writing-for-amusement · 5 years ago

Text

Commission for Confidence, 7

Summary: Y/N has been struggling with her self-esteem for years. After incessant pushing from your best friend, Y/N decides to commission an artist to draw her, expecting everything to happen via Internet. However, when your phone is stolen, you try to cancel the commission, but Peter Parker has other ideas. He quickly becomes enraptured by you, and a friendship forms easily. Will it lead to something more? Or will your past fears get in the way?

A/N: Okay, so, here is the next chapter of CfC! It’s a really long one because I have no self control and couldn’t find a good place to cut off (honestly, I’m not SUPER happy with where it IS cut off), but I hope you all still like it! Make sure you read my warnings, though, because some violence does occur.

PLEASE let me know what you think!! I’m desperate for validation; you can always message me, or send me an anon, or put it in the tags of a reblog, or whatever!! I do read every response to my writing, so I’d love it if you could give me some feedback or just some sort of response!!

As always, if you want to be tagged, just let me know!!

Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @scatterbrainedgenius, @jordyns-library, @wildfirecracker, @pastlives-purplesouls, @maybemona, @hotchocolattee

Word Count: 4765

Warnings: robbery attempt, violence, depictions of violence, some blood, hospitals, Peter being cute and silly and worried, some awkwardness, some self-doubt at the end, disassociative episode, some anxiety, some lame nerdstuff at the beginning bc I’m the author and write what I want, swearing

A few days later, on Thursday, you looked up to see your Edith at your door, a package in her hands. With an excited shout, you got up and hurried over to her. Your supervisor chuckled at your actions, pretending to hide the package behind her back.

“Edith,” you pouted as she kept the box with a teasing grin.

“Fine, fine,” she acquiesced, handing you the box. “Now you can start actually texting that boy instead of emailing like you’re old. Don’t email like me, don’t be old.” Edith widened her eyes as if picturing deep, dark horrors, and you laughed at her.

“Email is still perfectly acceptable, Edith,” you chuckled, trying to push the topic of Peter right out the window.

It didn’t work.

“It’s not acceptable when you have a crush on a handsome man!”

“Edith!” you chided, fumbling with your box to try and maintain composure.

That also didn’t work.

“I’ll leave you to your phone,” Edith cackled, winking at you before leaving.

You muttered to yourself and sat down at your desk. It didn’t take long to get your new phone up and running. As it sat on your desk, you sent out an email to your coworkers to inform them that your phone was back in business again, with the same phone number as before. It was nice to be easily connected to Monica again, and it was nice to be able to play your mindless little games when you needed a break from reading.

And, well, it would be nice to be able to talk to Peter without needing an Internet connection. The two of you had been emailing back and forth rather consistently since Saturday, and you had plans to meet up for a movie/game night at Peter’s place on Friday. Ned had finally returned from his business trip, and Peter really wanted you to meet him and his Aunt May, who would be at the movie/game night as well.

You’d been hesitant to accept the invitation. Even though you really liked Peter (probably too much considering how long you’d known him), you were always nervous about meeting new people. But, after encouragement from Monica, and reassurance from Peter, you agreed to go.

You emailed Peter, telling him your phone number, and tried to get back to work. You tried, you really did, but your brain was jumping around like a happy rabbit.

You sighed and sat back, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your lack of focus could also be attributed to the ache in your eyes from reading too much. This job was amazing, one of your dream jobs, but sometimes it was hard to deal with because it did leave you with aches and pains, both in your eyes and your lower back. Then again, you’d always had a bad back.

Your phone dinged and you opened your eyes. You had a text message from an unknown number. Upon opening the message, you saw it was a message from Peter.

Peter: Heyyo, Y/N! It’s a-me, Peter!!!

You chuckled and wrote back: Hello, Peter, it’s a-me, Y/N, the Wario of the world.

Peter sent back several shocked and angry emojis, making you chuckle again. Then, this message arrived: How dare you. You are my Mario AND my Princess Peach. Never slander yourself in my presence again.

You laughed loudly, tilting your head back. You couldn’t help the heat that came to your cheeks and you typed out your response: Or what, I’m going to be turned into Bowser?

No, you’ll get a strongly worded letter and a disappointed look

You rolled your eyes and tried to control the beating of your heart.

I cannot believe you think you’re Wario, Peter then wrote. You are the shining light, the Princess Peach in “Paper Mario and Thousand-Year-Old Door”, taking charge and doing her best to save herself while stuck on the moon.

A snort escape your body and you shook your head. You’re ridiculously silly.

But you’re the one that decided to like me and be friends with me, so who’s the REALLY silly one here????

It took you a minute to think of a reply. In the end, this is what you sent: … fair point.

Peter simply replied with a bunch of emojis, rather nonsensically, but it made you chuckle. After sending back a few emojis of your own, you told him that you needed to get back to work and be productive for once.

Fine, leave me, Peter wrote. I’ll wither away, but go be ‘productive’, I guess. ‘Responsibility’ is important, I GUESS

You almost cackled with laughter at his dramatics and told him to hang tight, because you’d be back soon to revive him.

Mouth to mouth better be in order, I think I’m dying…

You rolled your eyes and put your phone on silent so you could get some work done.

Of course, you ended up being restless again, because you were thinking about his demand of mouth to mouth. Was Peter just teasing, or was he flirting? Was this what being friends with Peter Parker was like for everyone? You had no idea, and those thoughts were crowding your mind after a few simple minutes.

Then, your savior arrived in the form of Arthur, your beloved coworker. He knocked on the frame of your door as he leaned against it, making your head jolt up in surprise.

“Hello, dear,” he greeted you softly in his London lilt. “You doing alright there?”

You smiled at him, probably a little raggedly, and shrugged a shoulder. “Not really,” you admitted. “Can’t focus, my brain is being too loud.”

“Then it is a perfect time to come on a coffee break!” he announced, striding in and trying to pull you from your chair. Since your chair had wheels, it simply went along with you, making you laugh.

“Arthur, let me get up! You know that the chair will barely fit in the break room, the door frame is only barely big enough,” you giggled. “We all remember what happened the last time you tried this stunt.”

The man pretended to look insulted and dropped your hands. “For your information, we’re going to a café for the coffee break. Get up, let’s go.”

You chuckled and stood, gathering your purse and phone; you made sure to pack it in the bottom of your purse, just in case.

As you followed Arthur out of the office and to the elevator, you said, “Are we going to bother poor Charlie at work?”

Arthur turned around with wide, dramatic hazel eyes. “What? No, no, why would we do that? No, we’re just going to get coffee. I don’t even know if Charlie is working today.”

You giggled into your hand as you entered the elevator. “Arthur, it’s his café. He works every day except for weekends.” Of course, you knew he knew this.

“I would never interrupt Charlie at work, how could you possibly assume that of me, I am hurt. I’m truly hurt. How could you. I am always professional.”

You laughed at the deep voiced man acting like a dramatic Shakespeare actor. The two of you made small talk as you walked the two blocks to the café, Bean Me Up. It truly had amazing coffee, and if it had been a bit closer to the subway station, it was where you would have suggested to meet Peter because of its inherent nerdiness. It was quite popular.

Arthur opened the door for you, the scent of coffee washing over your body and relaxing your shoulders. It was a small place, one you had always enjoyed visiting, and it wasn’t too bright or too dark. At the moment, there were a few people lounging around.

“Oh Charlie!” Arthur sang out in his deep voice, nearly skipping to the counter. You were confident that if he actually had been skipping, his suit would have ripped.

Charlie, a stocky man with his dreadlocks in a ponytail today, looked up as he heard Arthur. He rolled his eyes but there was a small smile on his face.

“Wow, Arthur, what a surprise,” Charlie drawled, smirking. “Second time today, do you have a crush on me or something?”

“I would never, you’re simply not my type,” Arthur teased.

“What is your type, then, gorgeous?”

Arthur pretended to think about it, and you smiled. Their interactions were always amusing to watch, to say the least.

“I like Jamaican-Filipino men that own their own business and make the best coffee in the entire damn city, with dreadlocks and glasses and a scar on the left eyebrow,” Arthur finally stated, nodding to himself.

“Oh my gosh, just greet your husband already!” you exclaimed teasingly, gently pushing the man’s shoulder. “I want a coffee.”

“Y/N!” Charlie exclaimed, rushing around the counter and completely bypassing his husband to wrap you in a hug. “I didn’t even see you; this big lug was in the way. How are you, darling, is this one still being annoying in the break room?”

“Oh, you know,” you joked, “just always making my life difficult.”

“Hey!” Arthur protested, though you both ignored him.

“Aw, sorry, he can be like that. The other day, he—”

“We’re not telling that story!!” Arthur interrupted abruptly, turning his husband away from you forcibly. You laughed loudly and Charlie winked at you.

You and Arthur ordered your drinks, and since Charlie wouldn’t let you pay, you shoved a twenty-dollar bill in his tip jar. As you and Arthur sat by the window, enjoying your coffee slowly (Thursdays were always slow days at the office, and Edith knew the power a break could have), you looked out to see four people in masks approaching the shop.

“Charlie!” you barely had time to shout as the men burst into the café. They waved large guns around and started yelling.

“Everyone, get down!” one yelled above the others. The other people had already scrambled to the floor, their hands over their heads. It was deadly quiet in the shop once everyone was on the floor; you and Arthur, however, were behind the men, sitting at your table in shock, and for some reason, you were ignored.

You shot Arthur a look and he nodded subtly, slowly reaching for his phone and texting Edith to call 911. She immediately responded with a thumbs up, but Arthur’s phone was on sound, making the robbers turn around.

“Hey!” one yelled, striding forward and shoving Arthur down to the floor. “You think you’re hot shit, you fucking piece of shit? Pulling shit, calling people?”

“I-I didn’t do anything!” Arthur protested.

“Get on the ground!” a second guy walked up to the table, talking to you.

You didn’t move.

“I said,” he growled, grabbing you by the hair, “get on the ground!”

“Leave her alone!” Charlie shouted from the counter, where he was slowly complying with the leader’s demands.

“Oh, why should I?” the guy still holding you by the hair asked. The gun was pressed to your head and the man growled, “Hurry the fuck up.”

“Look, we don’t wanna shoot anyone,” the leader was saying, “just give us all the money in the entire store, okay? Go to the safe and get that, too. Or we’ll start with her.”

Tears were pooling in your eyes from the force of your hair being gripped so tightly, but you could hear sirens in the distance. As you were trying to relieve the pain from your roots by pulling your knees under your body, you remembered a video you’d once watched. It was a risky idea, but perhaps you’d be able to turn the situation around.

You quickly rammed your elbow into the back of the man’s knee; he crumbled, releasing your hair. You grabbed his gun and threw it at the man that was standing by Arthur, knocking him to the ground. It was that moment that Spider-Man burst through the window, sending glass flying everywhere.

The superhero was webbing up the two guys that were standing as the one you’d hit in the knee turned to you with fire in his eyes. You raised your arms and curled your body into yourself to protect your organs as he kicked you in the side and back.

The café was full of sound again as people were yelling and you felt the vibrations of people running outside, but you were still being kicked at. You remained in that position even when the kicking stopped, but the sounds were still in your ears, and you didn’t want to risk anything. You stayed like that until the vibrations from the floor calmed down.

“Shit, Y/N, are you okay?” a weird voice asked, and strange feeling hands were gently touching your shoulders.

You opened your eyes and saw Spider-Man, looking at you with wide white eyes. He seemed more panicked than you would have thought, especially since no one had been shot and the police had already arrived to take away the webbed criminals.

“I-I’m okay,” you muttered as you sat up.

“Y/N, you’re bleeding. There’s glass in your face and your hand.”

You looked at your hand and were shocked to see that Spider-Man was right. There were little pieces of glass in the back of your hand and down the outside of your forearm. It was from when you’d dropped to the floor in a ball to protect yourself.

“Well, would you look at that,” you blinked.

A paramedic approached you at that moment, making Spider-Man back up. “You’ll take care of her, right?” the hero asked the professional.

“Of course, Spider-Man. Leave it to me, thank you for stepping in. It would have been a lot worse if you hadn’t showed up,” the paramedic said.

“Thank you, Spider-Man,” you said quietly as she helped you up.

“Y-you’re welcome, Y/N,” he stuttered, backing up towards the broken window. “Stay safe out there.”

You barely heard him as you walked slowly with the paramedic, Siska, outside the café. Arthur and Charlie were holding each other as they were looked over by another paramedic, and thankfully they both looked okay. Arthur had a few small cuts from broken glass, but he didn’t look too worse for wear. Charlie looked stressed and scared.

Siska made small talk with you as she looked over your injuries; she was worried about the glass in your hand and face and the bruising forming around your midsection. So, Siska accompanied you to the hospital, keeping you distracted from the creeping pain by telling you about various Indonesian foods that she missed from visiting family.

Arthur called you as you were waiting for a doctor to come into the room, and you answered right away, still rather numb and in shock.

“Are you okay?” he immediately demanded.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. A doctor is gonna look over my injuries and stuff, remove the glass and shit, make sure I don’t have any broken anything.”

“That’s a relief,” he breathed out. Then, “What the FUCK were you thinking?”

“W-what?” you stuttered, nearly dropping your phone from your good hand.

“There were four men, Y/N! FOUR of them! And you thought it would be a bloody good idea to try and debilitate one, as if that would’ve made a difference!”

“Arthur,” you began in a deadly steady voice, “if you keep yelling at me, I will hang up this phone right now and not speak to you for two weeks.”

“Stop berating her,” Charlie’s voice said from the background. “Let me talk to her. You’re being unhelpful, and I know that’s not what you want. Go sit, okay, babe?”

Arthur muttered something that you couldn’t quite make out, but the phone was handed over to Charlie.

“Look, Y/N,” the man sighed, “I do admit, the way you went about things was reckless, but it was also pretty smart. Thank you for that. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

You told Charlie everything that you knew at that moment, though you barely registered that you were talking. When the doctor entered, you said goodbye to Charlie and told him to take care of himself.

“Alright, let’s get a look at you,” the doctor said as she entered. “I’m Doctor Miriam Finestein; Siska told me what you did today, and that was pretty brave.”

Your faraway look and mumbled, “Thanks,” did not go past the doctor. Her eyebrows furrowed as she took you in, the way the pieces of glass were sticking out from your skin and slowly bleeding, the way you seemed to have no focus whatsoever.

“Y/N, right?” Doctor Finestein confirmed, walking forward slowly. You nodded, trying to force your focus from the stupid white wall and onto the doctor. “Can I see your arm?” she asked gently.

You held your arm out to her and her warm touch on the palm of your hand seemed to help you wake up. Your vision came back into focus and you blinked as you got a good look at the lovely doctor. She smiled at you as you did, making you feel a little sheepish, but at least now you were alert.

“I thought you might be disassociating,” the doctor told you quietly.

“That happens to me a lot,” you admitted. “But I tried to fight it this time.”

“But I think this was shock induced.”

“You’re probably right.”

Doctor Finestein kept up small talk while she examined your arm and hand; she told you about her cat, Frank, and her dog, Stella. It helped keep you grounded as she turned to your face, making a small clicking sound with her tongue.

“I’m going to take out the glass,” she informed you, rolling back on her chair towards the sink. “It doesn’t look too bad, truth be told. You’ll heal up just fine. Thankfully, there’s only a handful of deep and big pieces. I do want to do a CT scan afterwards on your hand and arm, just to be sure there isn’t any damage that’s not superficial. I’ll also check your ribs for breakage or other such things. Of course, we’ll also patch everything up and send you home with some painkillers.”

“Okay. Uh, how long will it take?” you asked hesitantly.

“Well,” she washed her hands and glanced at you, “it’s not going to be short. Unfortunately, there are a lot of smaller pieces, and there might be a wait for the scan. You could call someone to keep you company, we wouldn’t say no to that. It could take a few hours and it does get a little dull.”

You nibbled your lip in thought; you didn’t want to go through it completely alone, but you also didn’t want to be a bother. As you were thinking and Doctor Finestein was getting everything together, your phone went off. The doctor let you answer it and went out to get a nurse to help her with the glass removal.

You answered without looking, immediately being greeted with, “Y/N, are you okay? I saw something about a café robbery and saw you on the news, is everything okay? Where are you? Thank goodness you picked up!”

You chuckled despite yourself, trying not to move too many muscles in your face. Moving your mouth was fine, but there was a curve of cuts and pieces of glass going from above your eyebrow and down to your cheekbone. Still, as you were now more alert, you were actually registering the glass in your face.

“I’m okay, Peter,” you told him calmly. “I just have some glass in my arm and hand, and some in my face, but I’m okay, really.”

“Oh, thank God,” Peter breathed out. “Where are you? Do you need anything?”

“Actually,” you hesitated, “actually, Peter, if you’re not busy…” You steeled your nerves. It would be fine. “If you’re not busy, could you come and sit in the hospital with me? There’s stuff they gotta do and I,” your throat tightened, and you finally registered how actually terrified you still were, “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Of course! I’ll be right there; I’m still in Manhattan. Where are you?”

You told Peter the hospital and the room number before hanging up. At that moment, Doctor Finestein knocked and came back in with a smile directed at you.

“We’ll get started in a few minutes. Would you rather check your ribs before or after removing the glass?”

“After, please,” you said with little hesitation. “I really want to get this stuff out of my arm. I’m tired of holding it like this.”

“No problem!” she reassured you. “Is someone coming?”

“Yeah, my friend Peter—”

You were interrupted by a knock on the door and Doctor Finestein opened it, revealing an out-of-breath Peter Parker.

“And that would be Peter,” you chuckled.

“Jesus, Y/N, I’m so glad you’re okay!” Peter breathed out as he nearly knocked the good doctor over. He was hovering around your injured side, the worry on his face making his eyebrow twitch. Then, as if he realized that he had nearly knocked a doctor over, he spun on his heels.

“Peter, yes?” Doctor Finestein asked rhetorically, a teasing smile on her face.

“Yes,” he puffed out before offering his hand. “I’m Peter Parker.”

“She told me,” the doctor chuckled, “right before you burst into the door.”

“So, when are we getting started?” you asked, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.

“Once my nurse gets here,” Finestein informed you both. Immediately after, there was a knock on the door, and the doctor said, “Wow, Y/N and I just have wonderful timing today, don’t we! Everyone’s appearing at our beck and call.”

“I’ll always come to Y/N’s beck and call,” Peter stated firmly.

Your eyes widened in embarrassment at his strong statement and avoided looking him in the eyes. As you looked at the doctor, she was giving you a knowing look, so you looked at the nurse instead. He also gave you a knowing look, so you resigned yourself to not winning at that moment. Life wasn’t always fair.

You kept repeating that internal mantra as Dr. Finestein and the nurse, Jeremy, worked on removing the glass from your face. It was certainly not a nice feeling.

As you clutched the edge of the table, you felt heat coming closer to your hand. Peter gently touched your hand, forcing it to relax from the table, and your eyes flickered up to him. He smiled gently at you, the softest of pinks gracing his cheekbones, and laced your hands together. His hand was soft but steady, comforting.

“You can squeeze my hand,” Peter said tenderly. “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.”

The sweetness of his gaze made your heart melt and you smiled your agreement.

You winced and squeezed his hand as the tweezers removed the glass shards from your face. Doctor Finestein assured you that they were almost done with the face, but you nearly jumped out of your skin as the tweezers dug around in the flesh of your cheek.

“Sorry,” Doctor Finestein tried to calm you. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I should have warned you. Just this piece in your cheek, and we’ll take a break, okay?”

You breathed out an “Okay,” prompting the doctor to go back to finding the glass. Peter rubbed your hand with his thumb, his other hand moving to rub up and down on your back. His touch was incredibly comforting, and it helped you get your breathing back in proper order, instead of the slightly-too-fast breaths you’d been taking.

It was a strange sensation as she pulled the glass out and placed it on the tray, allowing Jeremy to rush in to disinfect the spot. They put a few butterfly closures on your face, and you had to admit that so many hands touching your face was strange.

“Okay, we’ll take a little break,” Dr. Finestein announced as Jeremy finished with the bandages on your face. “I’ll let them know that we need a CT scan so the stuff will be ready by the time we’re ready.”

“Do you two need anything?” Jeremy asked you and Peter. “Water, maybe?”

“I’d love some, please,” you nodded vigorously. Peter nodded as well.

“Alright, I’ll be back in like two minutes,” Jeremy stated, giving you both a thumbs up and leaving the room.

Peter let go of your hand and stopped rubbing your back, clearing his throat and stepping back a bit. The pink that had been on his cheek had become red in a short amount of time, and he seemed nervous.

“I-I’m sorry this all happened,” he said quietly.

You looked at him and tilted your head in confusion. “Why?” you asked. “It wasn’t your fault those guys tried to rob Charlie’s business.”

Peter chuckled anxiously and rubbed the back of his neck. “S-still,” he stuttered, “I’m sorry there’s a bunch of glass in you.”

You shrugged a shoulder and heaved out a sigh. “You know, it could be worse. I’ll take a little glass over the alternative bullet in my skull.”

Peter blanched at that and his facial panic had you chuckling. He began to stammer, and you held your good hand out to him. At the gesture, he blinked in surprise before slowly moving to take your hand. You brushed your thumb over his knuckles, only to be surprised as Peter laced your fingers together again.

“Thank you for your concern, Peter,” you smiled. “But let’s focus on what happened and what’s going on now. No need to worry over ‘what ifs’ right now.”

As Peter beamed at you, Doctor Finestein and Jeremy knocked and entered the room. Peter dropped your hand and stepped back, once again blushing furiously. Jeremy handed you and Peter some cups of water as Dr. Finestein announced that it was time to begin the removal once more.

You chugged your water and put the empty cup behind you before brandishing your arm to the good doctor. You felt a lot better after wetting your throat, and you were really wanting to get home and just go to bed. All the “excitement” of the past handful of hours was taking its toll on you, and you really wanted to go to bed.

As the professionals washed their hands and got everything ready once more, Peter finished his cup and took yours, throwing them away. He laced your fingers together and squeezed as the doctor and nurse began to remove the glass from your arm.

There were bigger pieces there, and each removal stung more than any in your face had. Peter kept squeezing your hand and rubbing your back; at once particularly irksome pull, he started to trace nonsensical patterns on your hand with his thumb. Then, you saw his face light up as inspiration struck.

He unlaced your fingers before turning your hand palm up. “I’m going to do little drawings, and I want you to try and guess what it is!” he beamed at you.

“Okay, sounds like a good idea,” you agreed, wincing slightly.

As Peter traced small designs on your palm, you managed to direct most of your attention to him. You hadn’t even known the doctor and nurse were done removing the glass until a sting of disinfectant snapped your head over to them.

“Almost done with this,” Doctor Finestein smiled at you. “We’ll bandage you up and check your ribs before the CT scan, okay?”

“Sure,” you nodded as Peter gently scratched his fingernail down your palm, obviously vying for your attention. Your laughter at his behavior made everyone in the room smile, and you shook your head at Peter. “So needy,” you teased.

Peter simply winked at you, making blood run to your face and chest, and drew his design once more on your palm.

Sooner than you expected, Jeremy was leaving the room (not without you thanking him, of course) with the tray of bloody glass, and Doctor Finestein was telling you to remove your shirt so she could look at your ribs.

Your wide, panicked eyes flashed to Peter and his red face.

“I, um, I’ll step out,” Peter stuttered, quickly fleeing the room.

You tried to ignore how your heart ached as he left; it was obvious to you that he didn’t want to see any part of you naked. It hurt your heart, but you tried to reassure yourself that Peter was just being polite. It didn’t stop the slight ache in your heart of the rush of anxiety in your mind as you took off your shirt so the doctor could do her examination.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x plus size reader #peter parker x insecure!reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man x plus size reader #artist peter parker au #slow burn fic #commission for confidence #please tell me what you think i am desperate for validation

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artzypaw · 5 years ago

Text

Rip Tide (bnha Surf AU)

Relationship: Bakugou Katsuki/ Kirishima Eijirou

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20290699/chapters/48101773

Word count: 5,029

Additional Tags:

Bakusquad, Surfing, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Competition, Beaches, Scars, Crack, Fluff and Crack, Road Trips, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Insecure Kirishima Eijirou, ashido could be with anyone, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Blood, Drinking, Emotional Constipation, Barbie References, Gay Kirishima Eijirou, Gay Bakugou Katsuki, Inside jokes, Hotel Rooms, surf competition, i'll add more tags when events become more relevant, denki is a dork, sero has no filter, kirishima is the literal embodiment of the sun, Bakugou wears glasses, but dont tell anyone, ashido paints all their nails, Alternate Universe - Mineta Minoru Doesn't Exist, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia)

Summary:

“You i-idiot, you can’t just do a flip off the board. You’ll end up with face scars like Kiri!” Ashio attempts to yell, but it's interrupted by her fits of laughter. Sero’s no better, clutching his stomach as he paddles out to the next wave off balance.

“Hey! I’ll have you know my scars look cool! They’re little lightning bolts!” Denki, ungracefully, crawls onto his surfboard during his remark. He lifts up a leg and points adamantly, showing off his well known box jelly scars.

“How about you guys stop bitching and surf.” Katsuki calls.

'or'

Bakusquad enters a local surf competition and feelings get messy along the way.

Chapts: 1/?

Notes: I'm so excited to be working on this!! I've already drawn photos showing off their surf swimwear and you can find them over on my Tumblr and Insta (but more so on my insta bc i have an exclusive highlighted story to share more deets before chapters come out ;-D)

There are fancy surfing tricks in this story so if you guys want a deeper look into what's to come, click here to read into them. I'm not entirely sure how many chapters this'll end up being, but i'll have more of an idea once i've posted more :-)

(see end of post for tags! if you want me to tag you in the next chapters let me know!)

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Chapter 1: In which Bakugou signs a deal with the devil (or the squad)

The summers are always too hot. Hot and humid, hot and sticky, hot and there’s no escape once you leave the AC. If it weren’t for the constant breezes emanating off of the beach’s shoreline, everyone in the city would be walking fries. The concrete burns beneath any shoe worn and skin bakes once under the scorching heat. On days like this, Katsuki finds going to the water helps but rarely gets to it simply because so did everyone else.

The tide is more forgiving in the morning and afternoon for him when it comes to surfing. Not only is he able to avoid the crowds of tourists, he can also get a decent swim in before having to go to the Marina for work.

In the mornings, Katsuki normally gets a text message around 6am from Krishima asking if he wants to head over and catch some waves. It’s been this way since high school, at least ever since the redhead found out he’d been surfing just as long as he had. Groggily, he’ll respond with either an incoherent mess of letters or a simple “sure”. He’s not a morning person, but shit-for-brains sure was when it came to surfing.

From what’s Katsuki’s learned, he is constantly on the water. More so than him, and that’s quite a bit considering he goes out whenever available between work and hanging out with his dumbass friends. Kirishima makes sure to wake up at the crack of dawn to catch some slow waves, then leaves once the crowds start to scuffling around the afternoon. Later at night, just when the sunset begins to ripple across the water and the waves start to die down, not entirely, he’ll grab his surfboard and swim until it grows too dark. The waves then are still tall and stocked with power, crashing down onto the shore with loud gushes of wind. Katsuki finds he enjoys surfing at this time of day more so than in the morning. Not because the sunset looks beautiful against the warm hue of his friends skin, not because the red is just as vibrantly blinding as a certain mop of hair, not because of that time of day, the piercing red eyes that smile back at him are the embodiment of the sunset behind them. No, it’s because he’s available. He’s available to ditch life responsibilities and float across the tinted waters with ease and relax the aching muscles on his body.

His phone buzzes after walking out of work, arms growing weary from lifting and maneuvering loads of extraneous equipment. He prods at the tough skin on his bicep, feeling the small indents from the scar left there. The Marina isn’t a crazy job, but it gives him enough money to afford a small apartment and food. And, it was located directly in between his house and the sea. Sore arms aren’t too bad if he really squints at the pros of his situation.

Kirishima: I'm heading out now if you want to meet up- the squad’s w me

Of course everyone else would be there. It wasn’t too often that they were able to come together, as of late. Ever since graduating high school, it’s been a struggle of living against the struggle of hanging out and keeping relationships alive. It’s easier for Katsuki to be with Kirishima and Ashido than it is Sero and Denki simply because the two live and work closer.

Katsuki makes way to his old, run down Jeep that he’s used for the past ten years and drives home to pick up his surfboard. They all surfed, it was a known. Him, Kirishima, and Ashido have been since childhood, Sero and Kaminari starting roughly in their teens, but they like to act as if they hadn’t.

He strips out of his clothes and into black swim trunks, grabbing his keys, wallet and surfboard before locking up his front door and hauling the board into the bed. It’s a normal white on the top, but below was a messy splay of oranges, yellows and blacks; reminiscent of explosions upon the bottom of his board. He personally painted it himself back in high school when there wasn’t enough money to professionally have it coated, but the paint and sealant have held well over the years and he’s grown fond of the design. He doesn’t take shit from Kaminari about how “tacky yet sweet” it is that he still has his cringy old design on the board.

Today is just as hot as yesterday, and the day before that, but the increasing breeze drifting onto his glistening skin walking to the beach has him closing his eyes. The sand is warm to the touch, and as his toes sink into the beads they grow cold from the shade. This feeling is one of the few reasons he keeps living in this tourist trap; that and one other.

His board is propped beneath his arm as he walks to their usual meeting spot. It’s only five, so the sun has a few hours before setting. Many tourists are still perched on the shore, tanning, splashing in the water, etc. It’s disgusting how many of them show up this time of year; leaving their disgusting ass trash all over his beach, having their disgusting ass families crowd his favorite local restaurants. Sure it was warm all year round, but summer was his favorite season and Katsuki didn’t make exceptions for noisy visitors.

“Hey! It’s Bakubro!” The nickname causes his ears to twitch. He spots the four standing amongst one another, boards perched into the sand around them. Kaminari raises his hand after calling out, and the others turn their gaze toward him.

Katsuki digs the bottom of his board into the soft sand once he’s joined them, and is immediately tackled into a hug by Ashido, pink enveloping his sight. To this date, he has yet to see the girl give up that hair color.

“Get the fuck off me.” He grunts, no malice in his words as he pats her back with a free hand.

“I haven’t seen you in two weeks, suck it up.” She laughs, squeezing his shoulders before hopping off and giving space. She was wearing the same wetsuit she always did; white with grey accents, holding pink and purple patterns along the sides of her frame. The suit cuts off mid thigh, but the sleeves make their way down her arms and her thin wrists. It’s a wonder how Ashido’s been able to fit into the swimwear the past years. “Tapping out, your turn Sero.” She chides and Katsuki watches as the tall lanky man steps forward and cautiously taps his fist along his bicep.

“I’ll pass on the hug, I kinda wanna survive for championships.” Sero chuckles but is cut short by the panicked looks Kirishima and Ashido give him. He’s quickly slapped in the head by Kaminari.

“Dude! What the hell we haven’t even told him yet why couldn’t you just keep shut!” He whines, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout. Katsuki frowns, confused. What championships?

“What the fuck are you guys squirming about?” He aks, crossing his arms over his bare chest. Kirishima walks between their friends and wraps an arm over Katsuki’s shoulder in a warm gesture he’s grown fond of over the years. The guy has no personal space, no matter how hard he’s complained.

“So remember last summer when our city threw a surfing competition in order to raise money towards ocean conservation? Many other local beaches in the district came up to compete as well,” Kirishima begins , tilting his head to glance at him through wet hair framing his face. Katsuki mentally rolls his eyes. The dork couldn’t even manage to wait a few minutes to get in the water. He can feel excess drops of roll off Kirishima’s arm and onto his nape. He suppresses the urge to shiver from the contact.

“Yeah, and it was a nightmare. There was practically no room to do anything.” He interjects.

“Well, Kami found a poster advertising this upcoming competition and thought maybe we should sign up!” Kirishima’s smile is bright, and Katsuki rips himself out from under the arm to register what was just told to him.

“Wait- you want to join the competition? As in go against other surfers for a chance to win what may be some lame ass medal and cash?”

Ashido chips in this time, balling her hands into fists enthusiastically, “Yes! And it’s all individual scoring, so no one can get in your way of victory.”

“There are district teams though? As in people will be identified from the beach they’re coming from. We’d be the Yuuei Beach.” Sero adds.

Katsuki blinks. This sounded right up his alley in terms of the activity and competition. Of course he wants to pummel any low ranking surfer out of the water, but-

“What’s the entry fee?” His bank account couldn’t handle another divot. Just this past month alone, his AC has died twice and that pulled entirely too much money out of for his comfort. He has saved money, sure, but it’s for emergencies, not being baked alive.

Ashido works at a retail store, not gaining that much more than him, along with Sero. Kirishima is currently at a surf shop, selling and making boards for probably less than it’s worth. Kaminari’s in and out of jobs practically every month, and while he says he had quit or it wasn’t for him, the guy was only half telling the truth. Katsuki has to keep his friends in check because their dumbasses sometimes forget they’re not made of money.

Kaminari flicks his nose with a thumb, “It’s not too bad, considering it is doubling as a charity event.” Katsuki huffs. So it was expensive.

“About 100 bucks each.” Kirishima says, looking over at him with bright eyes; hopeful and eager to see his reaction. Because yeah, it was a decent price. Cheaper than he was expecting.

He furrows his brows and kicks the sand beneath him in thought. It was maybe too cheap. “That’s how much is it for each of us individually to get in? I feel like there’s supposed to be a twist. Are there equipment fees?”

Ashido laughs, “I was the same, but that’s all we have to pay. It would be more if we didn’t already own surfboards, and swim gear-“

Sero nods when Katsuki flicks his gaze to him. His own wetsuit accentuates his long arms and legs and thinly toned body. He was the skinniest of the group, but to Katsuki’s surprise, that didn’t stop him from being a crazy strong surfer. Sero continues, “Yeah. So what do you say? Wanna try it out?”

He did. More so than he’d openly admit. Katsuki holds back his smile in order to keep composure; the last thing he wants is to jump into something stupid. He’ll have to call work and schedule time off. He’ll have to pack his clothes and his board and go on road trips with his friends and it was both exciting and nerve wracking.

Katsuki sighs, dropping an arm and raising the other to his temple, “If you guys make me regret this I’m shipping your asses to China.”

Their eyes widen and simultaneously loud cheers erupt from their cries. Kirishima runs up and hugs him, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting his feet off the sand. His cheeks burn from the action and from the full laughs vibrating through Kirishima’s chest. If he could get him to laugh like this everyday he would.

“Hell yeah!” The red head drops Katsuki and fist bumps Kaminari who just got out of a group hug with the other two. All of them are buzzing and Katsuki can’t help but let a smirk form upon his lips.

The sun is growing heavy on the horizon, which means they should probably hop in the water if they want any good waves. He reaches over and pulls his surfboard out of the sand.

“Let’s go you losers.” He barks, smirk never leaving his lips as he marches over to the water. Behind him Kaminari laughs. Foot steps quicken behind him with soft thuds.

“Last one there has to pay for dinner!” He cries, voice shifting into a shriek after sprinting past Katsuki and his grin widens with competition. The fuck does he think he is getting a head start?

Confused and disturbed glances behind them, the four boys push and shove awkwardly with their surfboards in hand to the water, making sure not to trip on one another. Sero lost.

The swells are more tame due to the tidal shift, keeping his distance from the break of waves, Katsuki’s able to lay back on his board and let the water run past his outstretched arms and legs. Kirishima gets the same idea once they’ve drifted further out into the open water and Katsuki can see a small smile still resting on his face.

The others are catching waves up ahead, and from the sounds of it they were running off the high of excitement; Ashido squeals after, Sero he assumes, pulls a bottom turn.

“Thanks for agreeing, Katsuki.” He hears Kirishima say. He hums in response, watching as the sky changes from hues of blue to pinks and oranges. He focuses on that rather than the man beside him, because he knows exactly what will happen if he does; his heart and mind will betray him, and he’ll have to question whether or not going to the competition will be worth his numerous strokes. “How far do you think we’ll get?” the redhead says again, the volume of his question softer, as if he were asking himself.

“We’re going to fucking dominate those amatures, Ei.” Katsuki chuckles airily. If anyone is as good a surfer as him, it was that dork.

“Yeah, we are.” and fuck, he has a weak heart because he tilts his head over to look at Kirishima. He’s giving him the widest smile and Katsuki sucks in air. How can it be legal to smile that way? At him? It does too many things to his emotions that he doesn’t allow. The swells beneath gradually lift them, and they fall down just as gently, as if the water itself were taking a deep breath.

A scream breaks his train of thought and he sits up to see where the noise came from. Ahead, Kaminair is popping his head out of the water with a lopsided grin.

“How about you guys stop bitching and surf.” Katsuki calls. Kirishima laughs at that, and doesn’t stop until the other three have swam up to swap positions. Kaminari looks at him pointedly.

“Let me see you do a flip off a board then, Bakumaster.”

“Don’t call me that,” He starts, lowering his arms to push forward and catch the next swell, “the day one of us does a flip off a board, it’ll be your shit eating grin that’ll pay because I'll personally handle that myself.”

“Honestly, Kami,” Kirishima says behind him, he too, preparing his board, “how cool would that be? It’s like parkour, but on water.”

“Exactly!” his friends cackle, and Katsuki smirks to himself. They’re all idiots.

“Wow, there are a lot more people here from our beach than I thought there’d be.” Kirishima says beside him. The two of them are waiting for the rest of their group at the opening resort for the surf competition. It’s been a month since they all consecutively decided to join, and throughout those weeks have been vigorously practicing the required techniques in order to pass the ranks. Standing there today is surreal to Katsuki; his heart beating a thousand miles a minute as the adrenaline of competition surges through his body. Before them, dozens of tents are littered across the sand advertising foods, surf leagues, selling wetsuits and swimsuits, anything that may grab money from eager buyers. In the middle of the mess is a small makeshift stage that holds a live band. Katsuki can hear their loud pop summer music from where he’s standing and wonders how distracting it may be once he’s out in the water. Sprawling in the crowds of surfers and pedestrians are news reporters catching scoops of information before the oncoming competition begins.

“More than last year.” He says. It’s the peak of the day, the early noon sun is hot and persistent on his skin. He disregarded his tank top hours ago because it rendered useless being soaked in his sweat. Beside him, Kirishima fairs no better, not even coming with a shirt and just in his red striped swim shorts. His hair is loose today, and Katsuki can’t help but want to drag his fingers through it and out of his face.

While the two showed up early, all tents provided for competitors are slammed full, causing them to have to stand out in the bated sun. Their surfboards stand beside them, growing increasingly warm after each passing minute.

“I really thought they’d be here by now.” Kirishima says anxiously. His body is stiff, and Katsuki gets the idea he’s nervous for more reasons than one. Elbowing his arm, he speaks up over the blaring music and conversations.

“Relax, Ei, if they’re late we’ll just start without them.” It’s not much of a reassurance, but the redhead's already taking in a deep breath.

“Sorry we’re late! Kaminari slept in and Sero forgot where his wetsuit was and I had to get gas-!” Ashido cries as her and the other two dorks run up to them.

“Really, Kami? You slept in?” Kirishima laughs, shaking his head. Katsuki fumes. The idiot had the audacity to sleep in and risk being late to their first opening competitions as well as stress out Kirishima more than he needed to.

“Don’t fucking do it again, Pikachu.” He barks.

There were 28 surfers entering the water today. Only 8 from Yuuei beach are going to able to advance in the official competitions. The news wasn’t surprising to Katsuki. He spent the past couple of nights reading into the scoring and background of these kind of events. Their next match, only 4 from each beach will be able to advance. All they had to do was meet a certain amount of points during their surf. Pass the heats, move to the next round.

Ashido is first to head into the water out of their group. She’s nervous and threatening to throw up but Kaminari shakes her shoulders and tells her that “you’re going to wipe the smug look off of everyone’s faces when they see you surf. Don’t overthink it, you’re practically a fish!” It musters a giggle out of her, and she hops up with determination.

“Yeah I am!” She grabs her surfboard, the bottom displaying various shades of pink along with tacky patterns only she would care to enjoy, and runs out to the water waving a thumbs up behind her.

Katsuki would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous. The past couple of surfers have been good. Their scores ranging from 15 to 17.2 points out of 20. Ashido is accompanied with three other surfers for their heat, and he hopes she catches some good waves in order to boost her general score. Her first wave is smaller than he would’ve hoped, but she’s quick and able to pull in a few carves and cutbacks before doing a roundhouse cutback; her figure eight sharp and stunning. Watching, The allotted thirty minutes given goes by fast, and Katsuki sighs with relief when Ashido sprints out of the water with a solid 18.3.

“Did you see that??!” She squeals, ramming into their group dripping with ocean water. She ditches her surfboard to the sand before jumping into their open arms. Her cheeks are red from the sun and splays of water, and Katsuki finds he likes this new profound form of excitement. It makes his chest flutter with something unknown. She backs away, though her hand never leaves the small of Sero’s back. “Don’t say a word, I don’t want to jinx anything. I’m looking at you, Hanta.”

He flushes at the accusation, “I’m not that bad.”

“Sorry man, but you have the worst tendency of blurting what’s on your mind.” Kirishima says, rubbing the back of his nape modestly. They all nod in agreement and he flushed more.

“Okay then. I’ll keep shut.”

The speakers erupt across the beach announcing the next four names to enter the water. Kirishima and Kaminari are in the same heat this round, which leaves Katsuki to watch from the sand once again. He finds himself biting his nails unconsciously until Ashido slaps his hand with her own, a frown upon her lips.

“Don’t ruin your nails, I don't want to paint a ravaged canvas.” she whines, and he huffs, but eventually caves in and drops his hand. Her gaze softens and she elbows his bicep. He flicks his gaze down irritably. “They’re going to be okay. Kaminari is full of surprises, and you know Kirishima,” she emphasizes the last bit, “he’s amazing. You’re stressing over nothing.”

“I’m not stressing.” Katsuki grumbles. But she was right, he didn’t necessarily have anything to worry about; the two were amazing surfers. He’ll ignore the knowing look Ashido held in her gaze when talking about Kirishima just then because that’s for another time. Ahead, he can spot the mop of red hair contrast with the blues and whites as the figure positions himself for a larger wave swell. Luckily, Kirishima held a top priority and once he claims a wave the other surfers will have to venture off to other ones.

“That’s a good wave, Kiri should be able to pull some of his trickier stunts on it.” Sero quips, crossing his arms over his chest. Katsuki nods, eyes never wavering from in front of him. The redhead is standing in no seconds after giving himself a boost forward with a thrust of his arms. The water curves, and eventually a beautiful wave begins to crash upon the water just for him. Immediately, Kirishima is wasting no time and pulling his first trick: Nosesirfing. Holding his stance at the tip of his board, he surfs along the crest of the wave for a couple seconds, gaining him a substantial amount of initial points. He slides down the water swiftly and carves, reverses and performs a 360; water splashing around his figure. Ashido cheers beside Katsuki and he smirks, because it was performed fairly perfectly. The wave is coming to a close, and Kirishima lowers his speed to Tube Ride inside the arch of water. It takes skill, not being an intermedial trick, and Katsuki holds his breath waiting to see the splash of red along the water emerge out into the open. After a few seconds, to his and the two dorks beside him’s excitement, Kirishima is able to perform the stunt and glides out past the crashing water, smiling widely. His first wave gives him a 9.8 out of 10 on the scoring board. If he does that again, Katsuki’s sure he’ll pass and move onto the next rounds.

The other surfers in the heat take their turns catching their points, Kaminari scoring an 8.2 on his first wave and the other two strangers score relatively lower. Their time on the water is winding down, and as Kirishima finishes is second wave with yet another Tube Ride, followed hastily with an Aerial, his points reveal him with a victorious 10 accumulating his complete and final 18.2. His fists are in the air, expression bright as he splashes the water exasperatingly.

“Yes! Way to go Kirshima!” Katsuki can hear Denki shout across the water as he begins his own second wave. Even on his own turn, the blonde finds time to support his friend. He turns his gaze back to Kirishima and smirks when he emerges out of the water, still wearing his widening smile.

Ashido runs forward and hugs him, causing them to wobble from the lack of balance. Thankfully, she lets go just in time for Kirishima to compose himself. His cheeks and body are flush from the adrenaline, and he rubs the back of his nape.

“Thanks! But we gotta watch Kami! He’s on now!” He calls, turning around to watch their friend finish his heat with a 17.9. Not too long after, the electric blonde is running up and joining them in a group hug.

“You guys were fucking amazing.” Katuski chuckles, clapping his hands together with Kirishima’s after they’ve divided. His face is warm from the sun, from the heat, from the surge of excitement and from the soft, damp hands holding his own tightly. Kirishima’s smile hasn’t wavered since he’s left the water, and Katsuki wonders if his cheeks are sore.

“Thanks man!” he laughs, and from the looks of it, the redhead’s still running off of his incitement.

“I think they just called Sero’s name.” Kaminari says to the side, and they turn their gaze to the large screen towards the center of the beach that holds the scorings and names of surf heats. Sure enough, Hanta Sero appears in bold letters across the screen.

He gives them a thumbs up as he walks off holding his surfboard by his side. Katsuki knows from watching him practice that he’s been working on the Superman since his longer body physique allows him to maneuver the trick easier, but will he attempt it today and risk losing points? It requires a relatively larger waves to guide the speed and height up and off of the crest. To his surprise, Sero doesn’t end up performing the trick, instead focusing on more longboard derived skills that place him with a score of 17.6.

That leaves him to enter the water. His name isn’t on the screen yet, but he can feel the sizzling beneath his skin in anticipation. The next heat will begin soon, and the chance his name will show up etched itself into his gut in the form of hunger. Hunger to win, hunger to go out there and compete, hunger to excel above the rest.

“Your name was just called for the next heat, Bakugou.” Ashido says and he smirks wickedly. Finally.

“Oh no, he’s got that creepy look on his face when he gets over competitive. He’s gone from Bakubro to Bakuscary.” Kaminari steps behind his board to shield himself as Katsuki grabs his own firmly. Reassuring chants echo behind him as he surges forward.

The water is warm when he initially steps in; he paddles further out into the ocean and it shifts cooler to the touch. His ears twitch with the realization that the music from the beach isn’t as deafening from where he sits. He can hear his thoughts more clearly, which normally fairs well but he spots Kirishima back at their spot on be beach jumping, pumping his fists into the air out to him, and his chest flutters. He was too enthusiastic sometimes.

The waves today are good. Better for the completion but even better for him in executing more high level skills. A particular swell catches his eye and he’s immediately taking action, dipping his arms in the water to push himself out to snatch the break. As the form manifests, he Carves and glides up, clutching the surfboard with one as he leans back and does a Alley-Oop. He lands with a slap, and his legs buzz from the impact. Any noise he heard earlier is gone. Mind blank, his breathing is shallow and he hyper focuses on his next trick, doing a Cutback then Snapping against the current. He only has a couple of seconds before the wave dies out, so he bites his lip and thinks screw it; there’s an opportunity and he isn’t going to miss his chance. Engulfed under a bridge of water, he Tube Rides before dashing out and Kickflipping his board. His chest heaves as he exhales sharply, riding out the remaining push of wave. It happened all too quickly and he doesn’t spare a glance at the scoreboard to see what his first wave gave him. He knows it was a higher number.

The second wave, to his luck, is just as powerful. Katsuki spares no time performing the same tricks, give or take a few and his mind is still in a haze once he steps onto the hot sand.

The wind is knocked out of his lungs, his board flying forward and he plummets back down into the sand with a loud thud. He groans as his chest is squeezed unbelievably tight, and his hands urgently grasp onto warm skin. Opening his eyes, his face heats immensely as he stares up into Kirishima’s. His breathing is rugged, unlike Katsuki’s being held in his chest, and he’s smiling down at him. Bold at first, but it fades into one more fond. Eyes never leave one another’s until it’s cut short, as fast as it came, with three bodies throwing themselves atop of theirs and Katsuki groans once again.

“Jesus- the fuck- I can’t breathe you assholes! G-get off-“ He wheezes, retracting his arms and planting them over Kirishima’s bare chest in an attempt to lift everyone. It fails and he’s left buried under 300 pounds with burning cheeks.

“We did it you guys! We’re going into the next rounds!” Ashido squeals into his ear and he pauses. They made it.

He gapes, “Holy fuck.”

“You topped with a solid 19 points, Bakubro!” Kaminari laughs, making an effort to detach himself from the pile. Ashido slides out beneath him. “We’re going to Shigaraki Beach!”

Sero extends a hand to help Kirishima off his feet, who then looks back down to a stunned Katsuki laying in the sand. He opens and closes his mouth, failing to conjure any words because holy fuck they’re all advancing to the next set of rounds-

He takes Kirishima’s hand and smirks, turning to face his fervent friends. The sun is still hot beating down on his skin, on the sand beneath his toes, on the hand intertwining into his own, on the smiles and crinked noses displaying between them. But it didn’t matter.

They made it.

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

Tags!

@mina-ashido-ismywife @hubajoob @christa-mina @kitkat-the-muffin @complete-utter-trash23 @justshipmeoffplease @sedxkid1 @downtherabbitholethatisanime @cooliopumpkin @fuchsiari

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notribs · 5 years ago

Text

hello hello ! it is may again and i... am still 20, using she/her, and in the eastern standard timezone. i can’t say that’s changed in the amount of time between intros. anyway, i do want to say that i like this gif because i feel like it.............. is an accurate representation of ribs at........... almost all times.

‹ TREVANTE RHODES, HE/HIM, CIS MAN, BISEXUAL. › DAVID “RIBS” SHAFFER is the TWENTY-EIGHT year old from EMERYVILLE, CA. when a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said, ❝ IT LOOKS LIKE SOMEWHERE JAMIE LEE WOULD BE LURED INTO. ❞ they claim ANY HORROR MOVIE WITH JAMIE LEE CURTIS IN IT is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would EXPLAIN TO THE KILLER THAT THERE WAS NO WAY HE MET THE CRITERIA FOR THE ‘FINAL GIRL’… JUST TO BE KILLED IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS SPEECH. their fears include HALLUCINATING, PARALYZATION and FIREWORKS, and they don’t know we know, but… HE MADE MONEY AS A DEALER WHILE HE WAS STILL WAITING FOR THE BAND TO TAKE OFF. hope they enjoy their stay. ‹ MUSE B from STRESSED OUT. ›

QUICK FACTS:

full name: david “ribs” isaiah shaffer

date of birth: december 1, 1992

*does not perfectly reflect the below Big Three zodiac chart because that’s so much math

zodiac big three: sagittarius sun, capricorn moon, pisces rising

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexual orientation: bisexual

occupation: drummer + backup songwriter + history of drug dealing

the song i listen to on repeat while i write the intro: “make or break” - bugzy malone

BACKGROUND INFO:

triggers: violence, mentions of drug dealing, very very very brief mention of self-harm (not the product of a mental illness which is why i forgot to include this until i looked at it again this morning - the product of wanting to keep a lie), very very brief mention of guns and fire in the ‘fears’ section

born to a very loving family bc i need a sunnier background hasfkljwas

david was never EVER academically inclined. he’ll tell you it’s because he just wasn’t interested and was too involved in music and boxing, both of which will be gone over soon, but that wasn’t entirely true. he was also very busy working odd jobs days and nights as a kid and days and nights at successful businesses when he was 16+ (see: papa john’s)

his parents did own a music shop! they were clearly doing their part! but, in the digital era and the era of guitar center, they were only getting so much traction. they were also much too calm about it, at least outwardly, so david felt as though he needed to help.

but it is true that he spent a lot of time practicing music and boxing! as just mentioned, his parents owned a music store and were both very musically inclined. they taught him how to be, at the very least, INTERMEDIATE at as many instruments as possible. he can now confidently say that, if the band ever needed it, he could play the guitar, piano, bass, or saxophone.

that being said, his instrument of choice was the drums. he began using jazz drummers, as well as various hip-hop beats, as his inspiration. his original inspirations were buddy rich, gene krupa, chico hamilton, art blakey, and the beats of grime and 90s rap.

it shows.

when he ventured into other genres, however, he began taking inspiration from nick mason, john bonham, neil peart, keith moon, ginger baker, karen carpenter, and ringo starr

(i have a music theory + history lesson for you if you think ringo is a bad drummer ok - he was a “songwriter’s drummer,” which is much more important to being a drummer in a band than being technically skilled or being able to show off with complex patterns and, thus, overshadowing the song. that’s why the beatles continued asking ringo to play the drums on their songs, even after they broke up. john lennon never said “he’s not even the best drummer in the beatles” - a radio dj made that joke and people started taking it literally. love that.)

(also the same goes for nick mason but his drumming is rly only brought up when he’s brought up since pink floyd isn’t as talked about as the beatles)

ALSO!!! i have decided to be passionate about karen carpenter because girl won a 1975 poll that pit her against john bonham for best drummer and he got so mad and said she couldn’t last ten minutes with led zeppelin. the following is just alleged, but oh my god i hope it’s true: then she proceeded to compliment his drumming, say that she thinks it’s all very subjective, then got behind her set and played “babe i’m gonna leave you” while singing and not missing a single note. we have decided to stan forever.

he also took up boxing. as a kid, he was just practicing and taking any excess frustration out. when he turned 14, however, he found an opportunity in an underground circuit. he started fighting against other people, for real, and would be paid if he won the fight.

so: school from 8a-3p, drum practice from 3:30p-7:30p (i know), family from 8p-10p, boxing from 11p-2a.

his parents knew he boxed, but didn’t know it was as dangerous as it was. they assumed there were more safeguards in place..... but boy was bringing in a LOT of money for there to be a lot of safeguards in place. because of this, david NEVER let them see his matches.

when he was 16, he’d broken his ribs during one of the fights and refused to see a doctor over it. what did he say happened when his parents could TELL something was wrong? he said that he’d been mugged and beaten up. to support this theory, before he ‘showed’ it to them, he dug into himself with a knife to make it look like the muggers had a switchblade.

from there on out, he made everyone call him “ribs”

did his parents ever wonder where his excess income was coming from? DEFINITELY. he told them that, yes, his MINIATURE matches did bring in some money, but the rest of the money came from tips!! because people are clearly that generous!!

he also never showed them the full amount. he’d only give what was necessary, not out of selfishness, rather to keep his secret and save them from worrying about him. he put it in a savings account.

it should also be addressed that, during this time, he became friends with who would become the guitarist in his future band, joakim. he witnessed joakim fight a homophobic teenager and desperately wanted to join in... but his ribs were broken ahflskd

he continued boxing, even after being introduced to joakim’s college friend, gabe - the future singer of their band. that being said, they began jamming with each other and played in a few local circuits.

his parents were very encouraging of this and told him that he should go for this as a career opportunity.

can you tell they were idealists?

he wanted to... but it was very impractical. by now, however, he was out of school (and he never went to college). his parents let him continue living with them since they were under the belief they were short on cash and it’d be difficult for him to find an affordable apartment under the papa john’s salary.

he decided to take his parents up on this... but, while he was waiting for his band to find success, their music store was closed down. as they both began looking desperately for new jobs, he realized that papa john’s and the fighting payment wasn’t quite enough anymore... so he started selling drugs.

he doesn’t keep his fighting a secret anymore, but he does keep his drug dealing a secret. he fears that it’ll perpetuate stereotypes.

during one of his band’s gigs, he and the others met their future bassist - the missing piece - rory. she was marginally younger than they were, but she was an extremely talented bassist and songwriter, so the lineup was finally complete and devil’s wine was formed.

when they began skyrocketing, he quit drug dealing. he also stopped the dangerous boxing, although he continues to... box safely. he began sending money back home after they really started succeeding. his mother got a teacher licensure in music and his father got the opportunity to own..... a guitar center.

if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

VERY IMPORTANT: uses a pearl custom kit, istanbul cymbals, aquarian heads, and vic firth sticks.

that was very important.

PERSONALITY INFO:

literally obsessed with jamie lee curtis. watching her movies has also made him very genre-savvy.

would genuinely die for her.

is the epitome of bob belcher’s “oh my god.” in his band. they get off topic during practice/recording just ONCE?? queue “oh my god.” and the gif above.

isn’t necessarily ashamed of his past dealings (literally) - like, joakim knows - but is genuinely afraid of perpetuating the stereotype of the dirty black boy. he’s open about the rest of his life, but he’s convinced that if people learn he used to sell drugs, he would be setting people back. having a black drummer in a rock band that’s on the radio? he needs to keep up appearances!!

never wears shirts during concerts. has to show off his ribs and also drumming, with a bunch of lights directly on him, is an extreme exercise and guaranteed sweat machine. dresses like bugzy malone otherwise.

ahflskjd again,,, like adrian,,, look @ his chart ig alhkfjd

FEARS:

hallucinating: he hates not only the idea of losing his mind, but also the idea of having a skewed view of reality after he really... saw reality, you know? his uncle had schizophrenia and, while he rarely saw him, the thought of going through what his uncle had/has to go through terrifies him.

paralyzation: this was a constant worry of his during his boxing matches - he was terrified someone would wind up taking out a firearm and would shoot him into a state of paralysis. not to mention, all limbs are required for both drumming and boxing.... so.

fireworks: less deep than the others. the house next door to his was set on fire due to a firework display being too close. while no one died and most of the house was salvaged, the idea of losing anything he has is terrifying to him. also the sounds they make remind him of guns so?

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

ok,,, so unlike adrian,,, he lived in california,,, a state many other characters lived in. while some cities in california can be like,,,, seven hours away,,, IT’S STILL AN IMPROVEMENT, so i’ll list a few past connection ideas too!

fans

people who hate his music

people who’ve seen one of his matches

old friends

someone who was constantly in his parents’ music store

exes

fwb

ons

???? im bad at connections!!!!!! but im down for brainstorming and/or working off of urs!!!!!!

#manor:talk #will be updated when more is figured out w his subplot ofc!!

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thecloserkin · 6 years ago

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fic rec: Are You Mine? and I Want Some More by PoetHrotsvitha

fandom: Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate

pairing: Evie Frye/Jacob Frye

word count: 54k and 50k respectively (one is a direct sequel to the other)

Is it canon: yes

Is it explicit: this is the most explicit material i have thus far reviewed on this blog

Is it endgame: yesssss

Is it shippable: yes

One thing you guys should know about me is I don’t read a great deal of smut. I don’t actively avoid it either, and I for sure consume more smut in the context of fanfic than in professional published fiction because I feel the following quote in my bones: “It wasn’t that friendship needed to be sexualized, it was that erotica needed to be … friendship-ized.” So when I stumbled on this fic that is 80% smut stretched over the thinnest pretext of plot, based on source material I have zero familiarity with, what did I do but fall headlong for this pairing and this story. Bless you, anon who brought Fryecest to my attention, and praise the Lord for modern AUs where knowledge of canon is not mandatory.

Jacob and Evie Frye are twins born into an Assassin family and raised by their exacting taskmaster of a father to take down the Templars. There’s no Templars or Assassins in this modern AU of course, just Evie’s looming A-Levels and their absent academic of a father. Evie’s still the golden child, of course—she’ll follow in their father’s footsteps and get her Ph.D. Jacob is the problem child. He’s already fallen in with the Wrong Crowd, he’s impulsive, he drinks and gambles and mostly solves problems with his fists. His relationship with their dad is hella strained. And because this is supposed to be PWP the author wastes no time in ratcheting the sexual tension up to 11 by having Jacob pick Evie up from her posh school on his MOTORCYCLE, each of them pretending not to be so turned on they could have combusted from desire by the end of the ride. Cool cool cool.

Their relationship begins barreling in a dom/sub direction almost from the word go. Evie is one thousand percent the take-charge, Type-A personality, so the idea is that she needs to relinquish that control in the bedroom, and Jacob is the only one she trusts to dominate her. Because they’re twins and they balance each other out adfkdfkdfjdkfd. The scene in the beginning where Jacob tells her not to button up her blouse while she’s making breakfast, and she actually listens to him instead of ignoring or insulting him, holy shit that was hot. It starts so small but eventually he��s got her wearing a wireless vibrator to class and begging for her “punishment” when she takes it out without his permission because it was too distracting.

I imagine this is what the 50 Shades of Grey phenomenon was about. I haven’t read 50 Shades of Grey myself, but I’ve interacted with people who rave about it and clearly got something out of those books, bad as they were. I’m not trying to compare the quality of this story to 50 Shades of Grey—it’s lightyears superior to that dreck—just that when I finished this fic I had the dazed realization that this was why people read smut.

There’s a throwaway line in Jacob’s internal monologue where he muses “they seem to be going about this backwards,” because he’s buying flowers for her the day after fingering her to a screaming orgasm, and yes I am 100% here for this trope. Ffs he sits with her in the library to keep her company while she studies! He waits for her/escorts her to her one hundred and one extracurricular activities! He’s a really immature 17-year-old and he’d never dream of doing this for anyone else, but when it comes to Evie he becomes suddenly sweet and thoughtful and solicitous. He’s constantly pausing in the middle of sex to ask for her enthusiastic & affirmative consent and reminding her to use the safe word. At the same time he’s madly jealous when anyone else shows a flicker of interest in her and he regularly makes her admit he “owns” her during their role-play. They are each other’s firsts which for some reason is really important to me in these kinds of they’re-teenagers-exploring-their-sexuality setups. This is Evie hitting up the lingerie boutique in preparation for their FIRST WEEKEND GETAWAY:

“I’m going away for the weekend with my-” Evie almost stumbled on the word, “-boyfriend.” What a strange concept.

I AM TRASH FOR THIS INCEST TROPE i love the way she stumbles over that word. Bc that’s not the box that Jacob occupies for her, is it? He’s much more than that. I love the way she alternates between begging him to put it in her cunt and calling him a prat and a shitheel; just because he’s the love of her life doesn’t make him stop being her insufferable little brother. You know what else I’m trash for? ALL the sneaking around tropes. One time while sexting with him in a storage closet at school she’s busted by one of the teachers and only barely has time to lock her phone before he confiscates it.

So the first fic ends with their dad finding the sexts and nudes on Evie’s phone, disowning them both, and Evie choosing to go to University of Edinburgh because their dad knows too many people at Oxbridge. The twins get a flat together and it’s happily ever after. Except no! In the sequel it’s ten years later and Evie and Jacob have returned to the house they grew up in to say goodbye to their dying father, and they’re ESTRANGED OH NO WHAT HAPPENED. Evie has a four-year-old in tow. We find out in fairly short order that the kid is Jacob’s, but Jacob doesn’t find out the truth until we’ve sent him through the angst wringer. The fic is about how they grieve and reconcile and how Jacob learns to parent, and this one is actually like 60% plot and I think I like it even better than the first one. This author’s note really spoke to me:

I’ve read a fair number of sibling incest modern AU fics in a few different fandoms and they all tend to end at “and then they ran away from their families and lived happily ever after/epilogue of sexy fun times possibly with the introduction of hey they've had a kid!”. And I mean I love that, don't get me wrong. But I guess I’m also weirdly preoccupied with the part about what comes after that, because it always seemed far too dreadfully simple an outcome. Normal relationships are rarely that easy, so why would these be? Then again I'm probably putting too much thought into a porn fic, LOL.

DEAR @poethrotsvitha, THIS IS A SIGNED PETITION TO PLEASE NEVER STOP OVERTHINKING THE PLOT OF YOUR PORN FICS. Like, nobody starts fucking their brother unless they really mean it, because the risk of the relationship going pear-shaped and the two of you still being stuck in each other’s orbit because there’s no “breaking up” with family? That’s a big risk. And also why incest pairings feel so high-stakes and I am trash for them, obvs. One of the reasons the dom/sub dynamic is so integral to their relationship was because Evie had a tendency to dictate to Jacob what he “can and can’t do,” and he understandably chafed against it sometimes. It’s what led to their breakup five years ago. And so him taking charge in the bedroom is a kind of counterbalance, and there’s a scene in this fic where she lets him role-play a noncon situation as a way to partly soothe his jealousy.

To a large extent it’s their son who brings about their reconciliation, but their son is also a hyperactive little git who throws a monkey wrench in their sex life, so now instead of hiding their relationship from their dad they’re tiptoeing around a four-year-old. And the big character development that happens on Jacob’s part is him recognizing that Thomas is Evie’s #1 priority now, and there comes a moment where he has to make a difficult decision to prioritize the two of them in his own life, too (by quitting his job and ending a toxic relationship). The other thing I really liked was how Jacob thinks ruefully he could have gone a another round if he were ten years younger, which he’s not, but Evie seems satisfied and that’s what matters. The recognition that he’s not a teenager anymore, and doesn’t have the stamina of one, but he’s also more mature and this time he’ll be able to give Evie what she needs? Oh, my heart. Like I said I loved them being each other’s firsts as teenagers but this, this second chance they’ve got as adults, this is beautiful.

Ok so this is Evie begging Jacob to fuck her in a closet in the middle of their dad’s funeral service??!:

“Please, I just need to forget. Just for a little bit- I need to forget, please-” Oh, God, this was a terrible idea. A terrible idea that she would die before she stopped- she felt like an addict after years of sobriety, pushed by stress and grief to needing that all-consuming high that she'd never quite been able to forget. Her fingers worked at his belt, pulling it open, unbuttoning his trousers to draw the heel of her palm along where he was already hard. “Evie,” he rasped, shuddering against her touch. “Shh,” she said, tucking his pants down enough to pull his cock free, giving it a few firm strokes. “Shh.” If they talked, it would be too real. It had to be rushed and frantic, to feel like it was just the once, to ease the ache in her chest.

And this is after they finish (“if only it could have lasted forever”):

Silently, she turned to let him zip up her dress … There was a warmth against the back of her neck as she felt him draw her hair aside and press a kiss to the sensitive skin, hesitant and uncertain. "Thank you," she breathed into the darkness, listening to the click of his belt as it slid back into place. He just sighed, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, saying a million things without speaking a word.

LEANING HIS FOREHEAD FOR A MILLISECOND AGAINST HER SHOULDER OMFG I AM DECEASED

Ok so to return an earlier point: When you want a canon incest happy ending in a modern setting (as opposed to if you’re both Targaryens) the most popular option is run away and live as an unrelated couple, which necessitates cutting ties with everyone you’ve ever known. This may be more or less difficult depending on the quantity and quality of those ties; unless this is Flowers in the Attic and you’ve literally been locked in the attic for years there’s bound to be people you care about other than your sibling so this is a monumental ask. The Fryes choose option B, “living openly as siblings and keeping the incest on the dl”. This option is not without risk, of course, since exposure is always a possibility, and Evie has to put up with the other moms at Thomas’s preschool eyeing Jacob like a piece of meat. Still, it means Thomas gets to bake cookies with his grandmother, who would not have let Evie and Jacob back in her life if they flaunted the truth. I mean, it’s not that she doesn’t know her kids are fucking, it’s just that a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy allows everyone’s relationships to remain intact:

She seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “Is Thomas…” There were a few ways that this question could go, as far as Jacob could see, and he didn’t particularly want to deal with any of them. He leaned against the counter, palms rigid against the cold surface. “I’m really tired, Mother.” “I know. I just…” There was a terrible pause. “Are— are you and Evie…” Still facing the toaster, Jacob closed his eyes. He couldn’t muster a lot of fake outrage, but he planned to deny everything anyway. He didn’t care about how plausible it was. It was easier for everyone that way, especially Mother. Before he could open his mouth, though, Mother’s chair scraped back. “Actually, never mind. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Every Wednesday Evie (who’s moved back in with her mom) leaves Thomas with his grandma and goes to “book club” which is really date night at Jacob’s. And the two of them get right up to their old tricks:

When he gave her just the slightest nudge upwards with his hips, she finally let a broken whisper rasp out. “I can't- I want- please-” Jacob clicked his tongue. “You know what I want you to say.” She twisted her neck around again, and he could see that her eyes were now glassy with longing. “Huh?” “It's simple— just ‘My greedy cunt belongs to my brother’. “ “I will not."

The process of turning that initial “no” into a “yes” is scorchingly hot so there you go, I love these two, I love this fic, I have definitely seen the light and I'm ready to embrace smut.

#fic rec #jacob x evie #evie x jacob #fryecest #jacob frye #evie frye #poethrotsvitha

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yuminyj · 5 years ago

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wow,,, here i am,,, late to the party as always,,, it be like that i guess. anyway !! i am honey and i am so excited to be here and talk to everyone and plot all the things !! its been a minute since i’ve been in an rp so this is gonna be fun lol. anyway,,, this is my baby yumin !! if you’d liek to know more about her, its all under the cut !! if you like what u read and want to plot give this a like or message me on discord @fluffy hair enthusiast !!#3097 !!

tw; teen pregnancy, parental neglect, brief mention of depression, bad parenting

about

meet yumin, ur local daughter of a v powerful and rich politician and a now retired model. she has three older brothers making her the ony girl so she gets spoiled hardcore

bc of her dads job, her parents are constantly traveling and attending important events that they weren’t really around to actually parent her or her brothers. instead they had several nannies and caretakers over the years to watch over them. whenever parents were around, they’d just throw money and gifts at them to make up for their absence

all she had wanted was for her parents to actually be around and give her some form of attention that wasn’t just giving her gifts and throwing money at their problems. so she tried acting out. she would skip classes, max out her dad’s black card and hang out with boys her parents would never approve of. but it didn’t work. her parents did what they did best and used their money to make all that go away. they’d pay off the school to change her attendance record, pay off the card with no questions asked and scare the boys away.

that was until she met chanhee. they’d met at some fancy event her parents sometimes made her attend. she’d snuck off after her parents were done showing off their perfect family to drink without anyone catching her. apparently he had the same idea and they just clicked right away. they spent the rest of the party talking and drinking until someone came looking for them in the early morning. not long after that night they began seeing each other.

her parents didnt really like them together but put up with it because it could end up being useful as his parents owned one of the biggest news networks in korea. even if her parents hadn’t let her keep seeing him, she would’ve. he treated her like she was important and gave her the attention she’d been looking for in all the wrong places. now that she had him she refused to let it got just bc her parents didnt like it.

everything had been perfect for a year and a half untul one morning she woke up sick to her stomach. she’d thought it was just the flu but when the sickness lasted longer than the flu should’ve she went to the doctor. there she found out she was 5 weeks pregnant. it felt like her life had started to crumble in that doctors office.

the first person she told was her boyfriend. he had been equally as scared but was supportive of her. he promised he’d be there no matter what happened. that didnt happen. when her parents found out a few months later (when she couldn’t hide it anymore) they were outraged. this was beyond any of the shit she had pulled to get their attention and was the absolute last straw for them. they immediately contacted his parents and the two families agreed the couple had to spilt up and the baby would be put up for adoption. there was no way the families could deal with the shame that came from a teen pregnancy.

so chanhee and yumin were forced apart and she was sent away until she had the baby. her parents would tell people that she was studying abroad for a year when asked about her. a year later she came back without a baby and without her love. now she mostly just blocks that year from her memory and tries not to think about it.

its been two years since then and she is okay, well as okay as she can be. she hasn’t tried to contact chanhee and he hasn’t tried to contact her. it would hurt too much to do it anyway.

now she is nineteen and has been living in the sharehouse for about 5 months. she couldn’t bare being at home anymore or by herself so this seemed like the perfect compromise. its definitely a downgrade from her old life but she needed this fresh start. she needed somewhere far enough from home where people might not recognize her and let her become someone new. the person shes always wanted to be. this is her fresh start and she isn’t going to waste it.

plot bunnies

iced americano; they’ve known each other forever and yet muse b feels like they don’t even know yumin at all. after she disappeared for a year, it was like the girl who came back wasn’t their friend that had left. they tried asking her about it but every time it was brought up, yumin would dismiss the topic. the two became distant but now that they live in the share house together, they are determined to get their friend back.

caramel macchiato; muse b is a big fan of yumin’s instagram and can’t get enough of her. one day muse b realizes they live in the same sharehouse as yumin and don’t know what to do with this information. do they talk to her as a fan? do they act like they have no idea she has 3.5 million followers on instagram for her stylish outfits? or do they accidentally bump into her and make themselves look like a total idiot in front of their idol?

matcha latte; yumin and muse b met when yumin had first moved in. they’d seen the poor girl struggling to carry a bunch of boxes up the stairs, felt bad and offered to help. since then, the two have been quite close. with muse b, yumin doesn’t need to pretend to be anything but herself because they don’t know about her family or past and she wants to keep it that way.

#｢ » ♡ * is this love cause sometimes i know and sometimes i dont ! intro ｣#yj:intro #i hope this makes sense lol

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holydepths-blog · 6 years ago

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✩ watergate :3

this took too fucking long

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? i feel like emma cos she’s more angry dramatic and he’s more emo dramatic but i was also gonna say he probably should to accomodate for his heightWho threatens to leave but never actually does? neither of them, they’ve both left one another repeatedly. Who actually keeps their word and leaves? both of them, see above. Who trashes the house? i don’t think either of them … i can’t see him ever doing it but if he did she would kick his ass things need to be NEAT Do either of them get physical? basement gate tease ! but no … it’s soft …. that’s been erased from my memory … they’re emo not violent How often do they argue/disagree? all the time but about #dumb shit nowadays … used to be more serious but now? you like chocolate ice cream better? … idiot Who is the first to apologise? if they had a penny for every time mickey has apologised to her both of them could quit their low salary jobs and move to france

Sex:

Who is on top? bold of u to assume they aren’t both switches Who is on the bottom? ^Who has the strangest desires? Any kinks? mind ur fucking business … snuggling is a kink Who’s dominant in bed? i don’t think dominant has ever been in either of their vocabulary where’s the john mulaney gif abt soup in the lap … regaurdless … probably he has to be she’s babyIs head ever in the equation? she suck the dick for free and mickey is a good boy, he knows how to go down on a womf If so, who is better at performing it? i don’t know how sex works is it easier to eat thrussy or suck a dick … they both try the only thing that matters is that once he said she was better at sex than [ redacted ] Ever had sex in public? private public … like not dressing room public but like, romantic lookout in a car public … hope no coppers come 2 shine their flashlight Who moans the most? idk if this is my sexism or my lesbian but women should, legally, be required to moan more than menWho leaves the most marks? he better swallow his masculinity and get used to concealer but i feel like that wld not be an issue for him, king ! he can’t borrow hers though it won’t match Who screams the loudest? WHO YELLSWho is the more experienced of the two? mickey. fucking duh. Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? they make love :3Rough or soft? soft … unlike his penis How long do they usually last? haha 8 seconds joe goldberg tease? idk how long sex even lasts in general …. solidly average is my guess Is protection used? he better wrap it before he taps it my girl cannot afford plan b . so yesDoes it ever get boring? not …. boring but ….. consistent. when emma gets too drunk she asks odette for sex advice bc she doesn’t want to bore ickey Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? nowhere is strange if ur brave enough.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? …. yes ….If so, how many children do your muses want/have? she wants 27 children actually but literally anything from 1-30 will suffice …. they need a lot of help on his inevitable farm Who is the favorite parent? mickey is the fun parent so u already know who it is Who is the authoritative parent? REMEMBER the clip i sent u from the marky mark movie … she’s always the bad guy until he gets #fedup and he has to remind her that she’s not doing it this time AJSDKF Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? honeslty both of them unless emma hoards all the candy … selfish Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? both of them they make fucking SIGNS …. its a little league game u dont need to paint the football stripes on ur faceWho goes to parent teacher interviews? they both go but mickey is better at them because emma always goes into teacher mode and tries to talk about Who changes the diapers? mickey does he’s a NURSE he is not grossed out , she is . baby poop is rank Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? where tf is that gifset from prison break when u need it … she does but only because she hates diapers and it’s only fair to pop a tiddie out every night for ur kid in exchangeWho spends the most time with the children? ummmm FAMILY FUN NIGHT x Who packs their lunch boxes?Who gives their children ‘the talk’? mickey he is obligated as a medical professional she don’t teach sex ed …. Who cleans up after the kids? emma but only because she’s a neat freak Who worries the most? both of them try to pretend they’re VERY cool and nonchalant and this is actually very easy until one of them cracks (probably her) and they both worry together constantly . solidarity babey ! ….. moreso her tho u cannot change my mind Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? auntie odette change my mind we said FUCK watergate lives , emdette rise

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? both of them …. constntly …. disgusting Who is the little spoon? [ jake peralta vc ] everyone likes to be the little spoon, it makes them feel safe ! LOOK HERE buddy …. he is and i dont take questions , even when he was 10 ft Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? can he fucking keep his hands AWF …. thats coming from me not emma she appreciates it Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? both of them …. its CONSTANT … hand on the shoulder , touching someone’s back as u walk past …. SOFT ! n then the one gif u sent from superstore where amy slaps jonah’s ass that’s emma How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? they actually fall asleep cuddling and wake up complaining abt falling asleep in a uncomfortable position… shut up abt ur back pain ur not 80 Who gives the most kisses? KISS kisses …. he. but know … she’s always kissing him on the cheek What is their favourite non-sexual activity? this is gonna sound g*y as hell but stay with me here ………. just being in the same place , even when they’re doing diff stuff . TOGETHERNESS …. vomit time Where is their favourite place to cuddle? the couch , i retract my statement about them not being 80 they actually fall asleep watching tv Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? casually ? she … to actually initiate eye emoji ? he How often do they get time to themselves? all the time , they know 2 other people

Sleeping:

Who snores? he does im hcing this for ur own character If both do, who snores the loudest? she doesn’t SNORE she’s a lady Do they share a bed or sleep separately? they’ve been in 200 different stages of relationship ……. OTHER than depending on that , she sleeps better w him there :3If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? they start far apart cos she’s a blanket hog but she always ends up next 2 him Who talks in their sleep? she mumbles sometimes ….. its nothing coherent What do they wear to bed? she owns 47 different stupid size xxxxxxxl shirts that were 2 bucks from walmart and wears only that . i bet mickey owns a bathrobe, bourgeois pig … Are either of your muses insomniacs? idk she reads a chapter of whatever dumb shit she’s reading and has tea or wine and conks out ….. idk his business Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? idk abt taking them and ik its not the point but shes anal retentive abt keeping medicine in the medicine cabinet so THERE BETTER NOT BE Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? AS I SAID … they start out on opposite sides of the beg and end up more tangled than tangled (20whatever) Who wakes up with bed hair? his hair is floofy ,,,, Who wakes up first? i feel like that depends on his shifts …. she wakes up at the same damn time every week day …. weekends though she sleeps in for 10 yrs so him Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? emma tries and he has to leave bed anyway because the fire alarm goes off What is their favourite sleeping position? she prefers it when she has all the blankets Who hogs the sheets? she does Do they set an alarm each night? they have JOBS does she look like pippa to u Can a television be found in their bedroom? yes so she can cry over dumb rom coms over somewhere other than the couch …… he’s invested in them , change my mind Who has nightmares? i already know ur about to say he does so im calling the cops on u end of story Who has ridiculous dreams? all of emma’s dreams are indistinguishable from bad acid trips Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? she sleeps in the fetal position he seems like a sprawler …..Who makes the bed? emma …. its gotta be CLEAN and if he ever says “why make it we’re just gonna sleep there again” its on SIGHT What time is bed time? whenever she passes out , always before midnight , considering they’re 72Any routines/rituals before bed? i bet they brush their teeth at the same time to see who can do it faster like they’re five year olds …. or that gifset from new girl where he’s like “ u read my walking dead fanfic ? ”Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? emma takes three cups of coffee to be able to be her CHIPPER self ….

Work:

Who is the busiest? she has like a 6 hour work day so he for sure Who rakes in the highest income? i just googled nurses versus preschool teachers and he makes twice what she does …. laughs nervously …. glad she’s going back 2 school but elementary teachers STILL make less …. mr talbot got COIN ! Are any of your muses unemployed? no , freeloading is ILLEGAL Who takes the most sick days? i feel like the two worst jobs to go into sick are a literal hospital with immunocompromised people and a preschool with toddlers who dont wash their hands …. equal maybe Who is more likely to turn up late to work? despite her original beef with odette in the apocalypse verse emma is NEVER late to work Who sucks up to their boss? she cooks dinner , a nice LASAGNA for whoever to heat up and mickey has to break it to her that making whoever her superior is eat what tastes like glue will in fact , damage their relationship What are their jobs? hes a nursey boy …. shes a teacher Who stresses the most? about life in general? her. about work? probably him. he’s dealing with LIVES she’s got the alphabet Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? they better they aren’t getting paid enough to hate it Are your muses financially stable? they’re not rich but they’re not dying and that’s what matters

Home:

Who does the washing? emma because it relaxes her Who takes out the trash? he better , she does not like to LOOK at things once they are thrown out … its smelly Who does the ironing? neither of them have ironed anything in their lives Who does the cooking? HE HAS TO IDC if he isn’t fuckign gordon ramsay she’ll kill them Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? emma Who is messier? if he leaves a single sock on the floor he is automatically messier than her Who leaves the toilet roll empty? that’s satanic neither of them Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? he does …. its just not REALISTIC that she does Who forgets to flush the toilet? that’s gross ……hopefully neither ….. DISGOSTEING.mp4Who is the prankster around the house? anything STUPID is hers and hers alone but i feel like he’d do something relatively innocent and it would go HORRIBLY wrong like , hey emma come get y’all juice ….Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? despite being organized in every other aspect of her life emma has never kept track of keys in her life its a disease Who mows the lawn? he does , he shld do it shirtless so she can objectify him Who answers the telephone? mickey, she truly stares at it hoping it’ll go away Who does the vacuuming? emmaWho does the groceries? she would make HORRIBLE decisions ,,, he shld make the list and she shld get it Who takes the longest to shower? no sexism but she’s a girl Who spends the most time in the bathroom? see above

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? yES like … they can afford groceries , make rent , but for literally every american except jeff bezos money is a problem in some area . this isn’t a hc just a capitalist hellscape How many cars do they own? two …. neither of them are very nice cars Do they own their home or do they rent? rent unless/until he gets the farm of his dreams Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? countryside thats where FARMS are … but like rn , coast cos there’s the ocean in town Do they live in the city or in the country? see above bbgDo they enjoy their surroundings? the goats of the future and the noisy neighbors of the current and past eras both leave something to be desired , but in general yes What’s their song? not to go all modern au but remember when stereo hearts was on their 2011 mixtape AJSKDF …. issa bop and its arguably the most cutesy singable on the playlist What do they do when they’re away from each other? bitch idk ? exist as human beings ?Where did they first meet? idk she probably met him for coffee or sum before moving in together to make sure he wasn’t a serial killer How did they first meet? they were roommates … oh my god they were roommates …. she prolly put an ad in the paper very lucky she did not get murdered x Who spends the most money when out shopping? i feel like neither of them are big spenders but her sticker and colored pen budget is larger than it should be Who’s more likely to flash their assets? i thought this was talking about tits for a second but im assuming mone ? they keep it humble Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? they both do , bullying one another is a bonding experience Any mental issues? more than you know my guy Who’s terrified of bugs? if she sees a SPIDER she floors it , but she releases most other bugs …. he better kill anything w 8 legs tho Who kills the spiders around the house? mickey , as described above wow im psychic Their favourite place? they can make any place work together … gay but true , just like me Who pays the bills? she has a special binder just for taxes Do they have any fears for their future? all the fears actually Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? she cannot cook but she has 10/10 ordered takeout , put it on plates and been like :the happy version of the pensive emoji yk the one: i cooked it while the reciept is still on the counter Who uses up all of the hot water? thats very selfish she wld never but she also showers first bc she doesn’t trust him not to ….. Who’s the tallest? they , in american , are the SAME HEIGHT ,,, fuck centimeters Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?Who wanders around in their underwear? clothes are oppressive let them both do it coward Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? it probably turns into a competition until they’re both singing at the top of their lungs …. omg watergate you’re gonna burst a vocal cord oh my god they can’t hear us they have airpods in What do they tease each other about? literally everything …. one of them BREAHTES wrong and the other is like “ ah didnt realise the asthma express was in town “ Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? mickey literally dresses like the fresh prince so u already answered that for me Do they have mutual friends? can the real jack detler please stand up Who crushed first? she ……. did not immediately fall in love with him let me tell u , it took her some solid MONTHS to realise she was in deep for his bitch ass Any alcohol or substance related problems? i wld hope not , #stubie twWho is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? them , together , for getting kicked out of the bar for singing Who swears the most? neither ?

#vampiresmiled #004. emma / phillips » all posts.#006. emma / phillips » featuring mikhail.

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fightmewiatch · 6 years ago

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Every so often, I have a day, one where something happens that keeps popping up things in my head that bug tf out of me.

Today is...one of those days. Lol. But today I’m gonna write out, hopefully throwing it out will help me clear my head. (And it’s going under a cut, because it is looooong).

So, today I got an email from my supervisor that my productivity is really too low. Which, I knew that, I knew it wouldn’t be spot on. It was only based on the last few weeks, so I did email back to let her know that the last few weeks I’ve been getting constant headaches bc of my eyes / old glasses, but I finally went to the eye doctor last week so I should be better once I get the new glasses.

Here’s the thing about this job. We log requests for medical records that are sent to specific hospitals/doctors offices/etc into our system (requests from patients, insurance, other health facilities, law firms, etc.). (We also send out the records, but I only do the first part of the job.) Working from home, I get assigned to a bunch of different facilities - sometimes that place is in Louisiana, sometimes Florida, sometimes it’s a country-wide place. When I change facilities, I have to “transfer” on my timecard, so they can see how long I’m spending in each website (and then the physical system keeps track of how many requests I’ve put in).

It’s pretty much become commonplace for me to run out of work LONG before the end of the day, and then I email my super (same one who sent me my productivity), & ask for work. If I’m lucky, she answers me within ten minutes with more work. More often than not, I’m waiting between 30 minutes and several hours, and by that point, I email her at least one more time, and then try to find work on my own.

No one has ever told me otherwise, so when I run out of work, I tend to stay in the facility I was last in (so instead of 2 hours in one place, I can be shown there for 2.5 or more, even without having work). When I emailed her back, I specifically asked her if there was a different place to “Transfer” to, so I don’t throw off my numbers, considering I often have to wait a while.

To no surprise, I answered her at least an hour before the end of the day, and she didn’t answer.

(I’m not looking for ways to fix this, I’m just basically throwing down what sparked the day.)

I’ve worked at 2 law firms in my life.

Law Firm #1.

Family firm (owned & run by a husband & wife - he was the name on the door, she was his secretary / office manager).

This place was wild.

I worked here twice. Once for two years, before I moved for school, and then after school (and a different job), I came back for another two and a half. And let me tell you.

The first time I worked there, as secretary:

I worked part time. There was a second secretary who had been there a LOT longer that everyone loved but she was one of those older women who was certain no one else knew what they were talking about sometimes.

My boss (owner, lead atty) wanted a listing of Potential Clients. Since we mostly did school law, business law, estate planning, and real estate, you think we would limit to that, yes? Nooooo. I had to make an excel spreadsheet of EVERY SINGLE PERSON in the phone book. Yes, you read that right. I had to spend my downtime putting THE PHONE BOOK (you remember those, right?) into an Excel Spreadsheet, so he could organize it by: first name, last name, city, address. Didn’t have an address? Find it by any possible means so long as it doesn’t cost money.

My boss decided he loved Spreadsheets. I then had to transfer our entire client file (which was, at the time, comprised of about...2100 clients) into Excel. Also, so he could organize it by: First Name, Last Name, Business Name, Address/City, Reason for them being a client (god help us if they were there for multiple things), OR, for the schools, who the Superintendents were.

Sounds decent. But we had three different client lists to update every single time we got new info or a new client. Two in Word (one by Last Name, and one by Client Number) (which had been printed out for a hard copy that we had to keep reprinting to update them), & the one in Excel (which I fucking refused to print out, bc we’re talking HUNDREDS of pages, and what a waste of $$ and paper).

Each time you created a new client, you had to write the information down on a sticky note and take it upstairs to K in billing, so she could make sure the information was put into her billing system. (and then she would give it to T who did payroll & incoming payments, so when people paid, they’d know what the $$ was for.)

Overall, my first 2 years there were okay. Nothing horrible, really, it was fine.

But then, the second time I worked there (approx. 3 years between leaving & coming back), in billing:

I was the billing assistant. K was still Head Billing. I adored her, we were friends despite the 30+ year age gap.

The Billing Office was shared: me & K, and T had been transferred in there but she still did Payroll & Incoming.

We were still at 4 attorneys, but 2 of the ones I used to work with were gone & 2 others were in place; and we fluctuated with other people in the building - 6 to 7 to 6 to 7.

The secretary was the same as before, but she left about a month after I came back (she retired). They hired another woman, J. She was very experienced, very helpful, very firm, I really liked her.

At first.

Her mom passed away (and I felt so bad, bc she hated her mom’s bf & there were a lot of issues and things), and afterwards, she wasn’t my friend anymore, she just seemed to be looking for a reason to leave.

T was terrible with math (which is AWFUL for someone doing, you know, PAYROLL and INCOMING PAYMENTS). I mean terrible. We added up our own timecards, and I was shitty at keeping the math right, so I found a website to help (which I then shared with the paralegals who fucking loved it). But a couple times, T messed up hours for one of the paralegals, and the girl mentioned it to me bc I collected the cards (T had leg problems, so she limited herself to coming up & down the steps as much as she could - I did running for her).

One time, when payroll got printed, and T was working from home, I checked her math, just because she wasn’t there, & I knew the boss would be leaving and if the paralegal didn’t catch it quickly, she would have to wait another day for the correct check (guys, you know how big of a pain that can be especially if you need that money). In the process, I pulled out J’s, trying to sort through them. I never just look at someone’s check stub, never ever, it is none of my business, and the only reason I was looking in the first place was hours, not pay. But J got a raise. No one in that building ever got a raise. Never. I’d worked there (at this point), a grand total of 3 years, and the only “raises” I got was a) bc they rehired me, and b) they wanted to make me a paralegal (which I didn’t want, but they let me keep the pay difference).

The OM called me into her office a few hours later, and just ripped into me for going through payroll & telling everyone about J’s raise which is NO ONE else’s business, and I was so flustered bc I didn’t know what she was talking about. Turns out, J told the OM that I was telling everyone she got a raise, so instead of calmly asking me, she asked if I looked at payroll, and I was honest, and she just lectured me like a stern, mad, disappointed parent (you know...the tone of voice & the facial expressions that can send you into an anxiety attack). The young attorney was my friend, he actually came to my defense when he found out what happened, told the OM that I didn’t tell anyone anything, that J was bragging about her pay raise to the paralegals (and since he spent time down there working, he heard her). (I never did get an apology from J for lying about me, or from the OM for yelling at me like I was a disgrace.)

It was one of my responsibilities to go to Staples & pick up supplies with a business check. (That’s right. We didn’t order anything in, I physically drove up, shopped, paid, and hauled it back myself. In 2.5 years, I was only offered help twice. The young attorney had a perfect view of my car from his office, never came out unless I went in and asked (and I only ever asked him to carry the GIANT BOXES OF PAPER). We had a list down front of everything we needed - printer ink, paper, pens, staples, tape, etc etc etc. Sporadically, my boss would ask me to bring her the list, I’d triple check it so nothing got missed, and bring it to her, then she’d nod nod nod, hand me a signed check, and let me get it.

One time, she told me to get everything we needed. No biggie, typically. But this rang out over $300, minimum (I’m almost blanking). I am telling you, she nearly had steam shooting out of her ears, and refused to let me go (like I’d messed up somehow) for well over a month.

The bosses & at least one of their daughters (they had 4 kids) were Pro-Trump. (This is...this is all I need to say about this.)

J wound up showing up 2 hours late for work, going up to the boss, telling her she quits, and then leaving. (They tried to get her to stay with, you guessed it, another raise and a duty change. She still left.) We hired B, a lovely timid women. She was very, very nice, and as far as I know she’s still there.

The two paralegals left and were replaced - one left, the 2nd trained the 1sts replacement, and then the replacement trained the 2nds replacement. (It was hilarious when the OM introduced us to the first replacement bc I knew her. I worked with her at the other law firm. We laughed, waved, smiled, good times.)

For a while, I had to sit in on meetings my boss had with clients (I had to take notes). This became rare for me, because once they had the 2 paralegals, they took turns, with B. We never really conversed with the clients beyond hi, but once I managed to have a nice conversation with a couple who had a place in Florida, and we talked bc it was at a place I had been to earlier the year before for my sister’s wedding, and we were having a nice conversation. Which, as you guessed, was interrupted by my boss who looked flummoxed that I, a low billing clerk, would have anything in common with his clients that he didn’t have in common with them. (He never said that, but you could see it well enough on his face.)

They had a quirk. They kept everything. Every bill that had been printed, it was printed, then copied - clients got the original, we kept two copies, one for when they paid (we would staple either a copy of the check or the check stub to the bill, so we knew what checks paid what bills), and then a copy for Billing, with any notes, adjustments, etc etc. (I’m talking bills back at least a decade, just thrown into the back apartment.)

I should mention here? The Office Building was an old apartment building. The entire downstairs and most of the upstairs had been converted into offices, but there was 1 last apartment in the very back that had a couple broken window panes, dust, bugs, etc etc. It’s where they stored old Bills & Paid Bills (anything older than 1 year).

We’re pretty sure it’s haunted (I say this, bc I did record the sound of a giggling little girl in that back apartment, which is upstairs, not connected to any other buildings, and there were no little girls in there at the time.)

I worked there 2013 to 2017, this time around. Around 2014, I talked to K, and the OM, and made the suggestion to get rid of those bills. But not just toss them, no. Let’s SCAN THEM IN! I was excited when they loved the idea. (My poor, poor stupid self.) I had to scan in every bill (we’re talking thousands and thousands) of bills, I scanned in every single bill that we sent out between, like...2006 and 2015, by the time I left (I left Jan of 2017, and idk if I finished scanning in 2016 before I did).

This meant: unstapling at least a dozen pages per bill, scanning in every page of the bill, plus every page fo the last draft bill (bc of course there are multiple drafts), logging every single bill into a Spreadsheet so we knew what we had, for whom, and where. I had to set up a bunch of fucking folders - one for every year, broken down into month, broken down to Schools or Miscellaneous (Everything else), broken down to Bills and Drafts, so we didn’t mix things up. This was fine if the bill was between 1 and 10 pages, but after 2009, we had bills that were twenty, thirty, forty pages long, I am not joking, and if one page messed up, I had to scan them all in AGAIN bc I was using the free Adobe.

It was tiring, so I printed out pricing, asked the OM if we could get the monthly subscription.(This was maybe mid 2014, I think). (And then promptly watched her hum, and put it somewhere never to be seen again.) K, her gracious soul, prompted the boss a couple times, but it was brushed off every time.

I finally paid it myself, fuck it, I’m not rescanning 80 pages bc 1 page got stuck in the scanner.

One months before I left, the paralegals asked me about it, bc they had me fix stuff, scan stuff, bc i Had the better program, so I told them were to look. They asked the OM, who then asked me why I was paying for it myself. (I could have screamed.)

My bosses were the kind of people who went to church, and thought that made them good people. The Big Man had a library of religious DVDs, books, CDs that he loaned out to people. Asked me to, yup, make and keep the Spreadsheet of everything - one for CDs/DVDs, one for Books - and then keep the log/keep track of who borrowed what, & when it was returned. (This included tagging each item with a number. Had 6 of the same thing? Then 6 of them were given the same number). I stopped keeping such good track when he started accepting returns & not telling me who brought them back, or started loaning them without telling me what and to whom, & started adding things in without telling me so I could label them (and then loaning them out without me having numbered/logged them).

My boss wanted me to work on the Website and their FB page. Thought we could send out an email to everyone (when I say everyone, I don’t just mean clients, I mean every person he could get an email for in the county), and when the IT guy said no, bc a mass email that size would most likely go to Spam, he said “Isn’t there a way to make sure it goes in their inbox?” and we all looked at each other as he said, “No, not unless we hack everyone’s emails, and that is very much against the law.”

I got paid mileage, because I often went to Staples, the bank, the boss’ house, two of the employees’ houses, two of the schools (who needed their bills NOW, not whenever the mail was sent out) and the Post office. One time I wrote the wrong mileage - I added going to the employees’ house, bc I did, but I did it on my way to/from lunch, so it didn’t count, but I was in a rush to write it, and I forgot until she was asking me why it was broken up. When I told her, she gave me the look, like I was trying to steal from her, and lectured me about it. (It was an accident, okay?)

T had diabetes, and after a lot of other medical issues and family issues, she had even more and they had to take her leg below the knee, and because the office wasn’t Handicapped accessible (there was some legal loophole that kept them from having to update the building), she got to work from home. The OM honest-to-god, when we were talking about how awful it was that they had to take the leg, said (summarizing) no one else has problems in comparison. ....I had to stare to try and figure out if she was serious (she was), because, yeah, it’s awful, but her problems did not negate anyone else’s, and man I feel sorry if that’s how you feel.

The program we used for billing went down one day. We called called texted called our IT guy, but he didn’t answer, didn’t answer, didn’t answer, and then finally said he’d be there at some point but he didn’t know when (he worked 3 other jobs, and was our IT guy, it was not a good setup, I’m sorry). My entire job revolved around this program, so I couldn’t do anything, so after waiting all morning, I emailed the OM before I went to lunch that I could just take the afternoon off (I figured it was better they not pay me at all, instead of paying me to twiddle my thumbs; K agreed (and she’d been there since they pretty much opened the doors at least 20 years before)), and then clocked out and went to lunch. when I dropped my mom off after, the OM called me, screaming at me because how dare I just leave, I needed to be in that office, just made me feel about an inch tall because I did that (and reminded me I had things I could do for the website, which I swear I had forgotten about bc I was so distracted by the damn program). I had to crawl back to work for the afternoon, and listen to another lecture, basically belittling me for the choice I made, that I don’t get to make that choice (I was seriously the only person who doesn’t get to make that choice, pretty much everyone else in that office was able to work from home, leave if something at the office wasn’t working, etc). (I still hear her in my head some days, if that tells you how bad that day fucked me up.)

We had bowed windows in Billing. We also had our own furnace/ac system. The insulation was long gone, so in the summer, if the AC was on (and down to about 60/65) it was fine, but the second it kicked off, you burned up. In the winter, if the heat was on (we had it cranked to 80), it was fine, but when it kicked off, it FROZE, i had to wear sweaters and gloves while I worked. K did, too. The first time I was there, they had space heaters up there. But the bosses hired the worst construction crew ever (hired them bc they were clients, btw), who had to rewire something else, which rigged Billing so that if we tried to use a space heater, it would blow the entire breaker on our side of the building.

Despite everything K or I said, about the fact that it leaked into billing when it rained, we were ignored. Until the day it poured in on me, and two ceiling tiles fell (lucky for them, I was already leaping out of my seat from the cold water, or I’d have had a field day). The guys fixed the side of the building, but never replaced the tiles (which we knew was because, if they replaced the two that had fallen, they’d have to replace all of them, which meant they’d have to admit to knowing about the mold in the ceiling).

I’m adding these as an after-bullet-point, because I did these both times I worked there.

This firm handled business, school, estate plans, and real estate law. This meant they wanted brochures, but not just A Brochure, with highlights for the company, no. Brochures for the general work we did, our school work, our business work, our estate plans, & our real estate work, each one with each (relevant) attorney on it (as attorneys left, they had to be removed, & as they joined, they were added - including their photograph, which they didn’t always provide and I had to dig for). Brochures were tri-fold, but at one point, we had 5 attorneys, and with the other (honest to god) bull drivel that was on these brochures, 5 did not fit in a tri-fold, meaning I had to figure out how to fit a 5th without it looking ridiculous. (And my boss was kind of...irritating, in the fact that I should show him how it would look A DOZEN TIMES, in a DOZEN WAYS, get his sign off, print 20 copies - as he told me to do - only for him to “suddenly” change his mind, meaning I wasted paper (at minimum $25 a box, and ink at minimum $25 a cartridge/$49 for black & color).

Sometimes (two to three times a year, I think) they did seminars, where they would compile a binder related to the Specific Thing (estate planning, real estate, school staff training, etc), because they were going to basically hold a class, pass these binders out, teach the attendees things. It was always my responsibility to assemble these binders (which typically wound up being 1 for the file, 1 for the OM, 1 for boss, 1 for whatever attorney was presenting, and approx. 5 to 25, depending on how many people were attending). Low end, we’re talking 9, high end, 29. Before I could even begin to assemble, the boss/OM/attorney had to get the stuff together for the binder - the forms, the spreadsheets, the index, literally think of a Handbook, and that’s what we were putting together. The boss had final say on everything. This is a man who has no concept of a timeline. So the day before the presentation, he was finishing the edits. OM would give me a check (she didn’t bat an eye for this shit, ever), send me to Staples to pick up all the supplies: binders, cover stock (bc yes, I also had to print covers, and use a blank piece of matching cover stock as a “back cover”), ink, regular paper, divider pages (meaning: colored construction paper), pens & notepads (bc ofc those were included, in case they had to take notes), and brochure paper (bc those were included, too). In less than 8 hours, I had to: use my computer to print anything in color or anything on the non-regular-paper (the copy machine was only normal paper, b&w); copy everything 9-29 times in the copy machine; hole punch everything (with a hole punch that would do max 10 pages at a time, and honey, they were rarely only 10 pages); assemble in order the binders; trim the card stock covers (bc somehow, they never fucking fit otherwise); and then try to stack 9-29 uneven binders on the 2nd floor conference room table. (And sometimes? Yes. Sometimes, the boss would take one when I was half-way through (without me knowing sometimes btw), and make some changes, meaning I’d have to take them apart and redo those pages, which meant going back to the computer, editing the original document, reprinting & copying, repunching, and reindexing). Please note: yes, I said in less than 8 hours, but that is being generous, bc do you think this man was ready for me to start when I walked in? No. He’d call the office around 11 or 12 to have me start (he often “started his day” from home, a mile away), so I’d go pick up the information, get it done, and get started bc I had to get a check, shop for supplies, print, copy, punch, arrange, index 9 to 29 binders with min 10 pages in each, plus covers, plus divider pages as necessary, between 12pm and 5pm. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

(I know this is long, I’m sorry, last spot.)

My other job.

Law Firm #2

Owned by one man who was like 400 years old and half dust. (He was a piece of work. His son was also a lawyer, but he & his new wife hated his son, and he constantly tried to sue his son to keep him from using his name in his business. They...they had the same last name.)

His wife owned a dress shop that was PRICED HIGH but was not very good quality (and actually had a second shop in the City).

They lived in a mansion. With maids. And the wife thought it appropriate to call in before we got in for the day, leave a list of things needed from the store, so one of the employees at the office (she used a couple of us as her own servants) could go to the store, get it, and bring it to the house.

I was hired as a Work Comp Clerk. Meaning I send out the subpoenas to health care facilities/doctors/etc to get bills and records for court. But the second they saw I’d been a secretary (at Firm #1) before, they took that chance. Made me secretary first thing in the morning (before the actual lady showed up), and for an hour after lunch (while the actual lady was at lunch). This was the busiest hour of the day. It was an 11 line phone, and no one else was allowed to answer it. (Firm #1? 4 lines and a fax, with 3 people as backup.)

I did fine at first. Made friends with the girls I worked with, and the other attorneys.

The owner, and the office manager? Nope. They hated me. I hated them. They looked for anything to get mad at me for.

I do not speak Spanish. 2 people in the office do (the secretary, and the woman who was made to do running for the wife). There was one time neither of them were in after lunch (usually 1 of them was there), while I was working the front desk, so of course someone called in that spoke Spanish. I told them, uno momento, por favor, bc I do know that much at least, put them on hold, called the OM. She raced up, started rifling the desk to tell me there was a sticky that said how to say one minute please, and I said “I know how to say that, and I did, that’s why they’re on hold. What do I do now?” And she looked at me like I’d grown a second head, before huffing and telling me to call our maintenance man (who spoke Spanish), so he could translate for me. (I think the secretary came in before I could, so she did the call for me.

I started having trouble doing my job. I’d never get records or bills, I’d spend half the day on the phone going round & round trying to figure out what the problem was, I’d keep sending reminder requests, but some of them I just could not get. One of the attorneys I explained this too, and he took a second to realize what I meant, before saying it was fine, just try, and if I can’t, I can’t.

Two of the attys left, and were replaced with 1 attorney who had just gotten his license, and one who had not yet taken the bar (so she legally wasn’t an attorney). They were nice, the attorneys there were (mostly) nice.

About halfway through the time I worked there (8 months. I was there 8 months), someone started calling, leaving threatening messages at night on the voicemail. It got to the point that one night, the secretary asked me to cover the front desk a little bit before I went home bc she had to go in with the boss and the OM, and a cop, so they could play the messages and figure out what to do. She didn’t mention there was a cop coming, no one did, so when he showed up, I did what I’m trained to do (write down his name, what he wants, etc) and went back to the boss’ office to ask him. “Well who is it?” “Officer XX.” “...is his first name Officer?!” “...well, no.” “Go find out what his name is!” He actually even called me an idiot, in the loudest possible voice, and kicked me out of his office. I was shaking, I was so angry, and I went up front, and whipped the notepad to the desk (it’s funny now bc the young atty was coming out of his office, saw me throw the notepad, and turned back and went into his office lol). The cop asked me if he could go in and I said no, he wasn’t ready yet, and the cop sighed, said he had a job to do, and they called him, and I got short with him and basically told him they’d call up when they were ready, so SIT DOWN. (Thankfully, they called up for him, so I walked him back and then just sat at the front desk, seething.)

Honestly, that was the downfall. That was when I started looking for a job, but considering I’ve got anxiety and a fear of public speaking and all that non-fun stuff, it isn’t easy (and I never know how to answer interview questions, which genuinely makes them think I’m stupid, I’ve seen their faces).

Just over a month before my birthday, I walked into work (on Monday), and went to put my bag at my desk. I got confused, seeing someone in my chair, but I just figured it was so she could train with the lady in the next desk, and I didn’t care bc I was working the front desk for that first hour. But just before the hour was up, the OM came up to me, asked me to come see her when I was done up there. Okay. Told me to bring my purse. ...o...okay. Finished the hour, grabbed my purse, went back. SURPRISE. That new girl was my replacement, and I was being demoted, which came with a pay decrease, as well as an hour decrease (although I was still expected to have lunch at the same time, and cover the front for the same time frames, even though they were taking 2 hours off my schedule every single day and over a dollar off my pay), and I was the runner. Because I wasn’t doing my job to their standards (they never told me that, they never gave me a warning, they never gave me a head’s up. Just BAM you’re fucked). I worked until 3 (per my new schedule), walked into her office, said “I’m not coming back, I can’t do this job anymore.” She shrugged, and turned away from me. I quit. (I had called my mom around lunch and her first words were “Fuck them, you quit & come home right now.” I just told her I needed to finish the day.)

I filed unemployment.

We did the hearing: one of the attorneys I liked was representing them, with the OM as one witness, and my closest coworker as the other. I felt awful and betrayed because we’d kept in touch (this was a month after I left, ish), but here she was telling them all my negative traits - including that I would stare out the window for periods of time. I explained to them (as I did while I worked there) that it helped my eyes, and helped me think, when I couldn’t remember my Next Step. After a little while of them talking shit about me, talking about how terrible I was, and all that stuff to make them file against me so I don’t get anything. And after hearing me say I had no warning, the hearing officer interrupted me and said “So...OM, you never gave her warning.” “Nope.” “You didn’t give her a head’s up, didn’t give her a chance to correct her problems, just expected her to keep working for you after cutting her hours, and her pay, and changing her responsibilities. With no warning.” “Right.” “Are you crazy?” I won. I laughed maniacally.

When the following year’s W-2′s came out (i worked for them a few months the year they were for, so I needed theirs), mine didn’t show when it was supposed to, so I called. New girl, said she got hers, put me on hold, “called the OM”, who told her to tell me that yes, they were sent. I got it 3 days later (postmarked the day I called. Mailed mine out my fucking ass).

added: Oh yeah. Someone had called at one point, & there was A Thing I was supposed to do, but no one had ever told me about it, never mentioned it, etc etc, so I didn’t know it existed, meaning I didn’t know there was something I didn’t know (following me?). I asked the OM. She said “well, if you didn’t know, you should have asked.” “...I...didn’t know. Like, in any capacity. How do I ask about something I don’t know exists? It’s not that I didn’t know how to do it, I didn’t know it was a thing.” “You should have asked.”

Yeah.

I think that’s it.

#sorry guys #i know this is really long #i just had to get a LOT off my plate #and my chest

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ask-svt-hearteu · 7 years ago

Text

mafia! Mingyu

anon requested: “Could you do Mafiamember!Mingyu please?? Thank you!!”

Admin Jess: Ok so I know this is extremely late, but I wanted to make sure I could do this au correctly so I researched and rewrote, and made people edit and read this and went over it again and so yea,,, Hope you enjoy:)

Warnings: This is a bit of a ride,,, so mature themes including mentions of death, drugs, mild cursing, it's a mafia au soooo...

Word count: A LOT MORE than usual

Mafia! Mingyu is no joke everyone

like damn

klutzy or not this boi can do it all

he knows how to dress a bullet wound faster than any surgeon can

knows how to make fairly powerful explosives too

but don't ask the others how he practices

there have been too many times when Seungcheol has had to yell "COVER!!!" as Mingyu sets off one of his experimental explosives

let's just say the others have flame resistant tables close by whenever Mingyu is experimenting

he's still really young

new to the Svt mafia gang

not the youngest admittedly but already an indispensable member

he runs exports on explosives because that's his specialty of course

but since that isn't always in high demand

he's in charge of the clean-up committee

removing any evidence of the gang and their activities from any physical place

which is probably why the cops haven't caught them yet

there's never any evidence

not even a speck of blood

not even a hair

nothing

it's like they're ghosts

Mingyu generally runs his own team through Svt's side businesses

either exporting explosives, or cleaning up after the mess of a job

but other times you can find him partying with the others in some club

or playing some high-stakes poker with some of the other members, like Wonwoo since he runs Svt's underground games

on really rare occasions for really important jobs

he gets called in for protection racketeering

because Seungcheol trusts Mingyu the most to handle these sorts of one client jobs

Svt specializes in protection racketeering

protecting people who can't get protection through the law

or protecting people from the law

big jobs require everyone

but the small scale ones

Mingyu get called along with some others

which is where you come in

where you meet Mingyu

you see

you didn’t like the family business

but hey a person’s gotta eat

even if that means you have to supply drugs to the criminals in this town

whatever it takes

at least you can afford some nice shoes

like those heels you got last week

the ones that are sharp enough to poke someone's eyes out

quite literally

at this point, you're kind of used to it

the whole running around with the wrong crowd

the feeling of your heart racing as a deal goes down

you're the face of your family business now

your dad ran the lab

made everything

handled all the business behind the scenes

and you were the pretty face up front

making the deals

smiling because you know you live on the edge now

and the feeling is a bit exhilarating

your dad takes you to the lab often and shows you how to use the equipment

but you're not too interested in the science behind it

but he shows you anyway

in case things ever go wrong

and you need to run things by yourself

it made enough sense to you anyway

things weren't always like this of course

you used to be a very normal family

before the accident

and your family fell into debt from a steadily increasing hospital bill for your mom

and when your mom passed away

the law felt no sympathy

never showed you and your dad, who had never hurt even a fly before, any mercy

and in that cruel moment of time

your dad turned to other methods for a way to pay off the debt

when the law fails you

you don't listen to it

besides

the drug business is good money

dirty but good money

and as much as you didn’t really want to have to deal with slimy characters

people too high out of their minds to give you the time of the day or what year it was

or how it fueled gang business

you welcomed it

welcomed the lifestyle

as risky as it was

because you had your father with you

and the law didn’t need to know

slowly your debt was repaid

but by then you had been done with trying to lead a normal life

it was boring, not fun

and to be honest

you didn't know what else to do anyway

still you knew your dad was getting tired of living dangerously

soon your family business became the biggest in the area

enough that your dad could buy a nice little house in the suburbs

enough that you could leave this life behind the both of you

and just enjoy life

but things in the drug circle don't always work out that nicely do they?

because when you deal with drugs and criminals

there's always danger around you

and you can't let down your guard for even a second

one day you head home to your small apartment in the bad part of town

you had been packing your stuff to move into the new house with your dad

everything had been going smoothly

but when you get home

your dad is gone

and the lab and everything

it’s just gone

everything was silent

you close the apartment door and look out over the cardboard boxes littering the floor

the picture frames of your family before you started the business

the various books from your childhood

all your memories were packed away in these boxes

but where was your dad?

you hear a knock on the door

it's loud and cuts through the silence like a knife

you steady yourself as you remember

your dad had briefed you many times on what to do if he was found out

deals can go sour, plenty of people could have been after him

wanting blood for one thing or another

or the cops could have caught him

many things could have happened

but the first thing he told you?

never open the door if someone knocked

only those who don’t have a key knocked

and if they don’t have a key

they weren’t your friends

you slowly backed up to the kitchen where your dad hid emergency supplies

cash in ziploc sandwich bags

fake ID’s and passports

extra drugs to sell in a pinch

and your hand wrapped around what you were looking for

the gun

you grabbed the supplies slipping the backpack over your shoulder and steadily, calmly aimed at the door

and waited

the knocking had stopped and you could hear voices

"The boss said this was the guy's house."

"That old man sold us short!!! He owes us thousands, he has it coming!!!"

"His daughter should be home soon, let's just grab her and get out before the cops are called."

“That'll show him for trying to mess with us."

"I can't wait to put a bullet through them both."

your blood runs cold hearing their words

a bang shakes the whole frame of the apartment

you know your neighbors won't be any help

no one's here

you slowly back up looking for your phone and some possible escape route

when the worst possible timing happens

and your phone rings from across the room

"Fuck, I knew there was someone inside!!!" comes the voices outside as the pounding on your door increases

you dive for your phone

“Hello?” you curse yourself for having a shaky voice

“Miss y/n? Your father left you in our protection, please follow our instructions carefully.” a deep voice said calmly

you jumped at the sound of metal crashing on metal

"Great if you have instructions I'd like to not die." you say

“He told us to tell you emergency code 7991 if you don't believe us." the deep voice returns

the emergency plan number, the one your dad told you meant to throw away any inhibitions you have and to follow this plan in order to live

it also meant a deal went sour

“Ok so what do I do now?!?!?" you supply pulling both backpack straps higher onto your back and leveling the gun in your hand

“Someone is waiting outside to take you to a safe location, all you have to do is get out of the apartment.”

the front door bursts open right as you hear these directions revealing several men

with weapons no less

you frantically looked around and spot the bathroom window

"Grab her!"

quickly, you throw it open as you take the short leap and land outside

you take off before they have a chance to even aim a gun at you

you run around a corner

before being jerked backwards by someone who grabbed your arm and covered your mouth with a hand

'Fuck me if this is how I die.' you think struggling to escape whoever it is

'To think I was going to buy that jean jacket I've had my eyes on for weeks..'

great last thoughts, y/n

struggle as you might you were no match for this person

you twist your head to try to look at him

and you stop struggling bc

something about him doesn't seem all that dangerous

wow don't you love having your priorities straight before possibly dying

the men from earlier run past shouting and you see the guy who's holding you stare at them for a bit after they disappear through an alley

and the man holding you sighs in relief before letting you go and placing two firm yet gentle hands on your shoulder and looking at your face with dark eyes

he was at least a head taller than you and his face was handsome and his features were sharp and dark

his hair was lightly tousled and his gaze felt reassuring for some reason as you stare at him

“I’m here to take you to the safe house.”

'so time to think very carefully about what your next words are, y/n, he could be here to kill you' you think

"Ok."

smoooooth

he says nothing more as he pulls you up and opens the door to a black mercedes parked a bit away

you stand frozen, heart racing from your too many near death experiences today

him dragging your arm as you stop in front of the car

this is why you don’t like the family business

if only drug dealers could retire and get a nice house in the suburbs without needing bullet proof windows

or bullet proof anything

or a heaping helping of death and danger every five minutes

“Who are you?” you ask

real smart y/n asking the stranger who saved you from a bullet in the stomach who they were, you thought to yourself

he turns back to face you

and you think ‘DYING BY STUPID QUESTIONS WOULD NOT BE FUN TODAY!’

but he just tilts his head to the side a bit

and gives you a cute smirk

“You can call me Mingyu.”

then he pulls you into the car, slamming the door behind you, taking the driver's seat and hits the accelerator faster than you could say “seatbelts first”

screeching out of the parking stall

racing down the road

you grip onto your backpack containing your few emergency supplies

holding the gun lightly in front of you in view of Mingyu

“There’s no need for that”

Mingyu caught your eyes through the rearview mirror

“If I were here to kill you, I would have done it by now.” he throws the words out casually

“Why thanks Mingyu-ssi, that’s super reassuring.” you huff, lowering the gun by a bit

he chuckles at your response which surprises you

guess even the mafia has a sense of humor?

“Soooooo, Mr. Mingyu, did my father hire you?”

“Yes,” Mingyu said glancing at you through the rearview mirror again, “hired us to protect you until he could clean up this mess that the deal left.”

cryptic

but you weren’t stupid

“He wants me to stay out of it.”

“He wants you to stay safe.” you looked up at Mingyu after he said it

"I can take care of myself just fine." you bluff rolling your eyes

Mingyu just raises an eyebrow at you through the rearview mirror

"Does hiring the mob sound super safe to you?" you ask him in response to his eyebrow raise

“We take our jobs really seriously, Miss, you don’t have to worry.” Mingyu supplements

“Said the freaking mafia to the drug dealer’s daughter…” you mutter

he chuckles again

“Yes, the situation isn’t ideal, Miss.”

“Just call me y/n, Mingyu-ssi.”

"Then just call me Mingyu, y/n."

as he drives along the back roads he glances at you from the rearview mirror

“Pay attention to the road Mingyu, the last thing we need is a car crash. Are you staring because I’m pretty?” You say jokingly, not really expecting a response as you try lightening the mood but also calm your own anxious nerves down

“And if I am?" He flashes a grin at you one more time from the rearview mirror before staring straight ahead at the road again

you blush and shut right up, shaking your head to clear your jumbled thoughts

the short car ride ends when you both reach a hotel

it's a pretty fancy hotel

one with full-on suites

“My orders were to wait here and protect you for a few days while the others figure out how to get you and your father resettled in a safe place. Then we’ll rendezvous with them at the warehouse.”

“We��re staying at this hotel?”

“Well I think it’s better than bleeding out in some alley somewhere.” He laughs while you shoot him a glare

“It’s just kind of fancy for a drug dealer’s daughter don’t you think?”

“Hey, the mafia is nothing if not fancy.”

he smiles brightly throwing you off

he could honestly pass for some college kid now that you get a chance to look at him, he can't be much older than you are

and he definitely does not look like a tall intimidating man who could kill you

he grabs your hand pulling you into the lobby

“What the heck-” you start trying to get him to let go while he drags you across the beautiful foyer

“I’m here to check in.” he says pleasantly

smiling warmly at the lady behind the desk

you see her get flustered at Mingyu’s good looks bc of course and stammer asking him what his name was

“It’s under Mr. and Mrs. Kim.”

EXCUSE ME?!?!?

sure a newlywed couple sounded like a good cover story but ?!?!?!

you're about to chop off Mingyu’s arm tbh mafia or no mafia when he pulls on your hand tighter causing you to yelp

“Isn’t that right Mrs. Kim?” smirking a bit before raising an eyebrow at you warning you silently ‘I think you should play along or bad things will happen…’

“Right,” you mutter before giving the hotel lady a fake smile and turning away to secretly plot your revenge on Mingyu, the giant, somehow

when he gets the room key he pulls you to an elevator and clicks the button for the 17th floor

When the elevator doors close he finally releases your hand and slides quietly to the other side of the elevator

a small smile on his face that you absolutely notice

you frown at the sudden feeling of absence of his hand holding yours

God pull yourself together y/n lol

the day’s events finally start catching up to you while you wait for the elevator to bring you to your destination

when the elevator doors open you rush out into the hallway feeling a bit claustrophobic in that cramped elevator with Mingyu and his stupid small smile and his cute eyes andwifkekrjqfkwjfnwj

hugging your backpack tighter, you start walking down the hallway when

“Miss y/n, the room’s the other way.”

blushing at your mistake

“I thought I said you could just call me y/n, I don’t need the ‘miss’ part!”

you walk back towards him, flustered, when your foot catches the edge of the carpet

and you trip

right into Mingyu’s arms

he catches you in his arms before you fall on your face

his face breaking into a smile

“Nice walking skills you got there.”

you smack his arms as he helps you up

Mingyu shaking his head and still chuckling lightly

he presses the room key to the handle and when you both walk in

a living room area, a half kitchen, and a huge fluffy bed laid out in the interior

“It’s so beautiful!” you stare in awe

gotta be one of the nicest places ever

being in the mafia must have its perks

you stare out the window

metropolitan smog aside

you could see a lot of the city’s skyline

the harsh outlines of the skyscrapers contrasting with the soft clouds in the sky

you set your backpack down on the sofa and take a few minutes just soaking in how extravagant it all was

"Guess you chose the right line of business huh?" you joke looking back at Mingyu

"It's alright." he laughs sitting down on a seat in the dining room

“Wait….We aren’t sharing a bed are we?!?!?” you say eyes widening

Mingyu bursts out into laughter making you jump

"No, mafia don't sleep, y/n." he says shaking his head, "Plus there's an adjoining room." pointing at a door

"Oh, but still humans need sleep." you counter walking over to inspect the kitchen

you're taken by surprise when Mingyu walks right up to you

you instinctually move backwards until your back hits the kitchen counter

and he still stands over you staring into your eyes

"Are we really human?" he smirks eyebrow raised questioningly

"I'm not going to answer that." you say holding your breath but also not backing down as you stare right back into his dark brown eyes

you stand there for a few more seconds, him inches from you, until he breaks the silence, moving backwards a slight smirk still on his face

"Good choice." he gives you a slight bow before saying, “I’ll let you settle in for the night and we can have dinner later. You should sleep, it’s been a stressful day.”

and before you say anything in response

he enters the adjoined room and closes the door softly behind him

you stand frozen in the spot he left you at

your heart beating quickly against your ribcage

your heart doesn't race like this normally

you take a few shaky breaths before you move again

the hotel provides coffee and popcorn

basically the two basic things necessary for a balanced diet

so you plop onto the couch

turning on the tv while your popcorn went pop-pop-popping in the microwave and the smell of coffee filled the living room

once it's done, you grab the bag from the microwave and a blanket from the bed and settle in for an old rerun of a movie

you weren’t sure when exactly but you fall asleep in the middle of your blanket

when you wake up, you're still by yourself in the hotel room

but on the dinner table is a bowl of ramen

from the gentle steam curling up from it, you can tell it's still a bit hot

a note is written next to it in neat handwriting

'Got a call about something and need to run an errand. Be smart and don't leave the room. Also don't forget to eat. -Mingyu'

you purse your lips

"I'm always making smart decisions excuuuuse me Mr. Mafia." you say aloud to yourself while reading his note

however you sit down and hastily have some ramen

the noodles were perfectly cooked

it was perfect wtf

"Is there anything he can't do?" you shake your head smiling while finishing the food

as you finish up and put the bowl in the sink, you hear a gentle knock on the door

you hesitate

wouldn't Mingyu have the key?

you walk cautiously to the door and peer out the peephole

a man stands there in a hotel uniform pushing a cart of towels

so not thinking much of it you open the door

"Did your room call for more towels, Miss?" the man says to you pointing at the extra towels

"No we didn't." you frown confused, "But thank you."

you're about to close the door

but he puts his hand on the door, holding it open

"You're not very smart, Miss."

he grabs your arm roughly pulling you out of the hotel room where finally you seem to realize what's happening

you struggle trying to hit your attacker

another man stands next to the door and he kicks you sending you sprawling on the ground gasping for air

"Honestly, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." the man sniggers

you clutch your side as you feel the throbbing pain from the kick spreading quickly, causing tears to well up in your eyes

"We ain't stupid sweetie, it ain't hard to track a girl with security footage in this part of town."

he yanks you up by your arm

the pain is really getting to you now as little black spots appear in your vision

"Take her to the boss, we can get back our money from the old man now and then kill 'em both."

he pulls out a zip tie and bounds it tight around your wirsts

the two drag you through to the service stairs as you descend down

from the pain, you gather that you might have bruises for weeks

and honestly that's hella shitty

it made you more mad than scared

you weren't one for always being scared in tough situations

goes with being in the drug business

bless your father's soul for signing you up for self-defense classes

because you feel one of the man's hold on you release as he reaches for his phone to probably report back

the other not holding on as tightly thinking you must be in too much pain to fight back

and you aim one beautiful kick directly into the man's crotch

causing him to howl in pain

yea, criminal or no, you'd think henchmen would be smarter by now

you feel his grasp release as he tumbles down the stairs

adrenaline coursing through you, you leap the last few steps yourself

hands still tied together

and run

run like your life depends on it

because it does

out the nearest exit you can find

when you run into the door and burst out into sunlight

you realize you're in the back entrance to the hotel

no place to hide

the cursing of the henchmen behind you getting closer

your instincts take over as you run

making it easy to cross over the obstacles in your path as you search for somewhere, anywhere to hide

settling for some cars you leap over the hood of one and hide

hands still bound by this annoying zip tie

"Search the area, she can't have gotten very far!" you hear

you try to catch your breath as you hear them nearing

there's nowhere else to go now

you hold your breath as you see their legs appear from your hiding spot

circling the cars near you

'Well, if I die today, I can take comfort in the fact that one of you can't have children anymore' you think to yourself

and your eyes widen as their faces appear behind the car you're hiding behind

"Why hello there, Miss, are you lost?" he pulls on your hair forcing you out of your hiding spot

you close your eyes

tears forming again from the stinging pain

when you hear a loud crack

and suddenly he lets go of your hair

another loud sound

and you open your eyes

and there's Mingyu

the henchmen unconscious at his feet

"Y/n, are you ok?"

you don't answer him

maybe you died

maybe they killed you dead and right now you're just imagining Mingyu in front of you

"I'm really sorry, I should have been more careful, y/n, I shouldn't have left, I came running as soon as I realized they could have tracked us,,, I had been way too distracted-"

he pulls you into his arms mid-sentence

and just holds you

as finally the events catch up to you

you're not dead

you're alive

because Mingyu found you

the tears finally start falling as he brushes your hair back

apologizing over and over

not letting you go

saying everything is ok now

you don't notice when a car pulls up behind the two of you as Mingyu gently leads you to sit in it with him

he doesn't let go for quite a while

"Y/n, you're safe now, I'm sorry. I'm glad you're safe and I promise, you're never going to get hurt again."

the car ride continues in silence

as he holds you in his arms

and as you try to disappear into his hold

where it feels safe

the zip tie is cut off your hands

and you watch as Mingyu stares at the red skin that got cut by the zip tie

he opens a panel in the car revealing some bandaids as he puts it over your wrist

the car ride stops in front of a warehouse

where Mingyu helps you out of the car and in through a side entrance guarded by several men

and inside is your dad

your tears renew as you see him and you run up to him crying

happy to be safe and back together

it's a few months later that you see Mingyu again

after your father and you settle in a new part of town

under new names

in a nice house

though you definitely had to spring for those bullet-proof windows

and you didn't really know how

but you get dragged back into the drug business

guess you're attracted to the lifestyle

nothing is more exciting then dealing with the devil, you suppose

you steadily want to build an empire around you

and make yourself untouchable

clients line up and the money rolls in

it's fun

you're at a bar one night not particularly there for any reason but to let loose a little and have a drink

your hired guards stand on the edges of the dance floor

gazing lazily in your direction

you're wearing a black dress and casually sipping some wine

surveying the scene before you as you take a sip

red lipstick staining the glass

you feel someone sit next to you

a tall figure settling into the seat next to you

Mingyu looks at you with a dark smile

"It's been a while." he smiles

"So it has." you smirk waving off the guards who made a move towards you

"You're quite popular these days in this business, from what I've heard." he says downing his cup of whiskey

"A girl's gotta eat." you say titling your head slyly flashing a grin at him

"Excuse me." you say getting up and walking off to the side hallway where the bathrooms are

Mingyu follows you and you stop as he places an arm on the wall blocking your way

"Have to say, you're not hiding that gun of yours very well under that dress." Mingyu chuckles looking down into your eyes

"Or maybe I'm just trying to send you a message, Mingyu-ssi." you bite your lip smiling back

"Oh? And what's that?" he says taking a step closer to you

"That if I were here to kill you, I would have done it by now."

"Why are you here then, Miss y/n?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell me?"

and then he kisses you

pressing forward, roughly and gently at the same time

your back against the wall

the smell of alcohol between the two of you

his lips soft against yours

as your hands linger against his chest

and his arm steadying himself on the wall as his hand holds your chin

he pulls back

"I guess you're attracted to danger."

Admin note: what a freaking ride oh my heart, anyway was this ok guys? Hope you enjoyed it, honestly I had such trouble writing this and I'm worried if anyone will like it...

MASTERLIST

580 notes · View notes

pacman-tattoo · 7 years ago

Text

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader]

aka “i wanna impress my dorky crush bc he’s rly cute and im awkward.”

alright taking off my usual bold for authors notes because i gotta so:

here’s some notes about some shit that’ll be relevant:

squipped!reader has “The SQUIP’s text, which is all in bold only,” but sometimes will have “Regular quotes surrounding it” - which stands for something the SQUIP is making the reader say (but that will always be accompanied by some sort of clarification to avoid confusion, i promise)

there’s also “Regular speech” from the reader, but also “their thoughts directed toward the SQUIP” which are in both bold and italics

there u go.

quick reminder: if anything bothers you, absolutely just come to me and talk to me about it. if i need to fix anything, tag anything, do anything - just tell me.

warning: considering reader is squipped, there’s a bit of abuse from said SQUIP. shocks, manipulation - stuff like that (similar to what jeremy faced in the musical)

Jeremy Heere was in four of your classes. Four. In two of them he sat a few desks in front of you by some random seating order, in one he sat right next to you, and in one he was cross the room. It was bad enough having one class with him, since you’d grow flustered and your palms would get sweaty and you would immediately become tongue-tied the moment you had to say anything to him - but four classes? Someone was out to get you, and you were pretty positive about it. It was pretty difficult to not glance his way in hopes that maybe he was looking at you during math - where he sat right next to you and sometimes asked if he could borrow your calculator because wow he forgot it again and you either stuttered out your apology or shove it in his direction and pray you knew how to do math good enough with a calculator. In english he sat desks away, and sometimes would whisper shit to Michael Mell and sometimes he’d get detention for it, and you heard him in chemistry talk about Christine Canigula a few times to Michael whenever they were away from prying ears - and you never intended on listening, it just sort if happened but you refused to say anything to anyone because wow what a creep listening to other people’s conversations wow.

So you kept your head down and prayed that maybe you could work up the courage to talk to Jeremy - or maybe Michael, because maybe if you talked to Michael you could talk to Jeremy and it wouldn’t be so awkward right, because then you’d know Michael and Michael wouldn’t be a third wheel or something - not that he’d ever be a third wheel because you and Jeremy were just a dream and it would never happen, even if you kinda wondered what it would feel like to be in his arms sometimes but that was just thoughts that happened sometimes and only sometimes and you totally didn’t miss a couple of notes in your history class because you were thinking about Jeremy and how he was kind of cute because he fell asleep.

Fuck, you were kind of creepy weren’t you. Sixteen years old and a complete weirdo, yep, totally - no wonder Jeremy never really talked to you. You picked at your nails and you retreated into oversized shirts and into your hoodies and pretended that you weren’t there because school is hell. Hell, you were used to not really being the cool, popular kid - you’d always been a bit of a loner, really, and luckily enough, rumors didn’t really fly about you and you weren’t even a blip on the radar. Meanwhile, Jeremy was... different. He was a bit of a geek and kind of tall so he stood out a bit more than you tended to.

You weren’t complaining. You saw the shit people gave Jeremy - a certain short bully calling him ‘tall-ass’ for one - and you wished you could find it in you to stand up and tell them all to fuck off. But you weren’t a blip on the radar. You were unseen and you didn’t have much of a problem with it, so you kept your mouth shut and let the regrets stew in your mind.

You had a tendency to wander around the mall - maybe slipping into Spencer’s or maybe into GameStop or whatever seemed not too busy - after school since you were drained and just needing to get away, but didn’t want to make the walk home. And by some stroke of luck, Rich Goranski had been alone, walking straight into you and making some comment before he froze while you quickly stuttered out an apology. He recognized you. He knew your face and he knew you and, fuck, there went you invisibility.

“You.” He said, staring at you. You braced yourself for the worst, but he stopped, staring at you. As if processing thoughts, or as if he wasn’t quite there before he slowly blinked. “... [y/n].”

You nodded. He went to say something. He stopped.

Then he figured out what he was going to say. “After school. Tomorrow. Behind the gym.”

You nodded quickly, going to speak only for him to snap.

“We’ll talk.”

Needless to say, you were terrified as fuck. And pretty sure you were going to die. Well, fuck, at least I don’t have to take that chemistry test, was your attempt at maybe being a little okay with dying if Rich killed you - then again he did say behind the gym so maybe he wouldn’t kill you, at least, he wouldn’t kill you on campus, right?

Hopefully.

You went through the day with dread filling up your entire existence and your heartbeat in your ears. Jeremy asked if he could borrow your calculator again. You jumped and shoved it in his direction and he looked at you kinda weird but apologized before you rambled out an excuse that you weren’t feeling well and maybe you’d be fine in a little bit because it was nothing serious and he shouldn’t worry about it. That didn’t stop a weird look, but he didn’t question you further, so at least that was fine.

You bolted from your seat in your last class and went immediately for your locker, running into Jake Dillinger in the process before muttering an apology and keeping your head down. You didn’t need anyone seeing you or wondering why you were weird or whatever. You somewhat debated whether you should actually go meet Rich, since you could get pretzels at the mall. Then you decided that maybe you shouldn’t do that because Rich might kill you if you don’t go meet him - or maybe he’d kill you either way, hell if you knew.

So you went to meet him.

It took him twenty minutes to show up. You texted your parents you’d be home a little later and that you were at the mall. They shrugged it off - that’s where you always were, wasn’t it? And then Rich approached you.

“You’re actually here?” He said, apparently in disbelief that you actually showed up. You nodded slowly.

“Look, I’m sorry that I ran into you the other day and -”

“Don’t.” He noticed you tense up, before shoving his hands in his pockets, “you...” He began, slowly, as if he had to think over every word. “You remember me freshman year.”

You almost told him no. But then you remembered - freshman year, biology, Rich was your partner for a project and he was quiet and... didn’t he have a lisp? Maybe you were imagining it, because he doesn’t now - and then slowly nod. “Yeah. In biology-”

“Then you remember how I was.”

You took a small step away, “Rich, if this is about me-”

“Shut up about that shit!” He snapped, before slowly regaining his composure, “sorry. Habit. Well,” he began, “I changed.” You nodded again. He went to speak only to hesitate, his voice becoming slightly softer, “I think you could use some help.”

You shot him a confused look, brows furrowed as you take in the words, “help?”

“Yeah. You like Heere, don’t you?”

Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw, is it that obvious? You shove aside the thought as you nodded.

“Listen,” he said, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips, “you saw me freshman year. And now look at me!”

“How do you know I like Jeremy?” You asked, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets.

“I have my sources.” He smirked.

Fuck, that meant someone else knew.

“Look, just-” He paused, “you could use a SQUIP.”

“A what.”

“A SQUIP. It’s this... pill. You take it and this quantum computer will implant in your brain and tell you what to do.” He paused. “It would help you.” You only stared at him. “It’s six hundred-”

“Six hundred?” You repeated.

“It’s worth it. Trust me.”

“Rich, I can’t just get six hundred dollars,” you said, “but... maybe if you give me some time-”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Give me your phone,” he repeated. You unlocked it and handed it over. He punched something into it, “text me when you get the money. Only when. Don’t fucking bother me otherwise.”

You nodded quickly. He turned to leave after shoving your phone back to you. “Wait, Rich-” He stopped and glanced back over to you. “Why me? Why now?”

He shrugged, shouted something back about getting the money, and then left you alone with your thoughts.

Six hundred dollars. You could do this. Rich said this would help you and what did you have to lose?

First you checked your room for anything. You found an old shoe-box you’d been keeping, various pictures and other oddities inside of it, and in the corner was fifty bucks tucked away with a note that said ‘if the game is released’ with a shitty sketch of a crown out to the side and you couldn’t remember what game, but it was a start. Thanks, younger you.

Five hundred and fifty. You’d get roughly twenty for your allowance.

Five hundred and thirty. Maybe you still had some birthday money if you searched hard enough. You didn’t. Maybe your grandmother would pay you for doing stuff around the house.

She did - after an awkward conversation about getting a job but offered you cookies she’d made when she heard you were coming over. Fifty for the yard work - kinda generous since you didn’t do much, but you had the sneaking suspicion it was also because you actually came over.

That left four hundred and eighty. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard.

It was harder than you thought. You had shoved your money away into the shoe-box from earlier and you’d yet to add a penny to it. So you started going through your shit and hoping maybe you’d find something super rare and maybe someone would pay a decent amount for it.

You didn’t. Fuck. You did end up throwing a bunch of old games onto eBay because maybe they’d get some money.

Your aunt needed someone to babysit next Saturday. You immediately took her up on the offer - ten dollars an hour wasn’t bad, and you were pretty sure it was only because you were related. Besides, you didn’t hang out with your cousins enough - Jason was a sweetheart who talked to you about how eighth grade was going, Dawn spent all her time reading in her room and ignoring her older brother, and Alex, who talked about their freshman year and this cutie who was in one of their classes - and the only reason you were actually there, because you’d heard something about Alex getting in a fight with the neighbor’s kid and that your aunt didn’t want a repeat of last time. Maybe you’d hang out with them again another time, without the idea of money as incentive.

Then again, you were getting paid forty bucks for basically hanging out with these kids. The money wouldn’t hurt.

One hundred dollars from five games. Well, goodbye childhood memories, you will be missed...

Maybe you could sell cookies or something. Cookies sell well, especially at school. Secret cookie market. No one will know.

Maybe cookies will fill the void of three hundred and forty.

Fifty bucks from your grandmother. Twenty for allowance.

Rich grew impatient. You told him your status behind the gym. He shrugged it off and told you to hurry the fuck up.

He gave you another week. Saturday at the latest. That gave you enough time to get allowance. Maybe clean up your grandmother’s house.

Time to sell an organ.

You somehow managed to get Mr.Reyes’s drama classes to buy cookies from you. They’re sworn to secrecy and you sold him some for a discounted price. You made fifteen dollars and had someone ask if you could maybe make some chocolate chip cookies for an upcoming birthday party and they’d pay you twenty since they’d need a ton. You stayed up until two in the morning the night before baking enough. Your parents are glad you’ve found something you enjoy. Maybe you could have a bakery someday.

You get twenty from the kid and an extra fifteen from their mom. Sweet.

Sunday. You’re doomed. How the fuck are you supposed to get over two hundred dollars in a week? How would a GoFundMe look for this? Hey help me get a fucking pill so I can maybe be not a loser and maybe get to date a cute dork-

Speaking of which, you noticed Jeremy signed up for the play - mainly because people gave him shit for it until a bunch of popular kids signed up. Maybe you could talk to him about it.

You had some books. Maybe you could sell them - holy fuck, you had a signed copy of Deathly Hallows. How much money would someone pay for that?

Apparently, over two hundred.

You texted Rich the moment you were able to get the cash from the bank.

He told you to meet him in an hour at the school.

You stood behind the school, hands shoved in your jacket pockets as you looked around. This shit better had been worth it. In the distance you can see Rich crossing the football field, walking toward you with a bottle of soda in one hand and a shoe-box under his other arm. You squinted in the dying light of the day at him, and you felt your phone buzz against your hip. It’s your father - you shoot him an excuse and say you’ll be home soon and he responds with a simple ‘okay’ before shoving your phone out of the way.

Rich stopped in front of you. You pulled out the money and held it out, and he shoved the bottle of soda into your other hand as he counted out everything.

“Holy shit.”

“What?”

He looked back to you before shoving the money into a pocket, “nothing. Thought you wouldn’t-”

“Fuck, Rich, just give me the damn squid.”

“SQUIP.”

You rolled your eyes. He opened the shoe-box and pulled out a small, grey, oblong pill and held it out to you.

“Take it with the mountain dew. That’s what activates it, or some shit - fuck if I know why. And... You might want to prepare yourself. There’s a bit of pain but it’ll be fast-”

“Wait, Rich-”

“No, no, it’s fine, I swear. It’ll be shitty for a minute, but then...” He smiled. He was smiling and it unnerved you, “then it’ll be fine.”

“Are you gonna leave me here or...?”

“Nah. I’ll be right here."

You looked down at the pill in your hand. Doubt pooled in your stomach as you looked back to Rich, “and... this will help me?”

“Yeah! It’s helped me, after all.”

“You’re sure?”

“Holy fuck, just take it already.”

You nodded before setting the pill on your tongue, opening the soda and taking a swig as you swallowed the pill. You waited. Nothing but the taste of mint greeted you. But Rich stared at you.

“Rich, I don’t-” You were cut off as a sharp pain stabbed through your head, eliciting a gasp of pain from you. “Fuck-”

CALIBRATION IN PROCESS. PLEASE EXCUSE SOME MILD DISCOMFORT.

Yeah. Sure. Mild-

Your head seized up with pain again, sending you down onto your knees as you gripped at the sides of your head, every swear you knew spilling from you. Your nails dug into your scalp as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to find any relief from what was a thousand times worse than a migraine.

And then it stopped. You caught you breath as you slowly drew your hands away from your head, and looked back up to Rich. He didn’t say anything. You breathed. Finally, you had to ask, “is... Is that it-”

CALIBRATION COMPLETE. ACCESS PROCEDURE INITIATED.

“Access procedure- Rich, what the fuck-”

DISCOMFORT LEVEL MAY INCREASE.

“Wh-”

You were thrown to the ground once more as pain spiraled through you, seizing every part of you and forcing you to spasm as a shriek escapes you. Your thoughts are gone, replaced with endless pain and the occasional swear that wasted no time escaping from you.

ACCESSING: NEURAL MEMORY.

ACCESSING: MUSCLE MEMORY.

ACCESS PROCEDURE: COMPLETE.

[Y/N] [Y/L/N].

WELCOME TO YOUR SUPER QUANTUM UNIT INTEL PROCESSOR.

YOUR SQUIP.

The pain edged off bit by bit, leaving you breathing heavily as you tried to process what just happened. Your cheeks were wet with tears and dirt covered your pants legs and hands - and there was a small cut on one from a rock cutting into it. You looked up and there stood Rich, staring down at you.

“What the fuck,” you said, staring at him, “a bit of pain?”

“I warned you.”

“He did. According to your memory, he said you would face “a bit” of pain. He might have underestimated how much but-”

“What the fuck?”

“What?”

“Who the fuck-”

“I already said. I am your SQUIP.”

“Rich... what the fuck.”

“You hear it, don’t you?” He said, offering a hand. You took it and he pulled you up.

“Yeah. I do. It sounds like-”

“ My default setting is Keanu Reeves. You can also set me for-”

You stopped him. “He’s fine.”

“If you insist.”

You glanced down to your phone. Fuck, you needed to leave. So you thank Rich - as much as you didn’t want to, because the pain wasn’t really worth it, but your SQUIP prompted you to - and ran off. When you arrived home, you managed to sneak up to your room without much trouble, shedding off your dirt-stained pants and looking at the cuts on your hand.

“You should take care of those before they get infected.”

“I will.”

“You should also not say everything out loud. People will think you’re weird if you keep talking to yourself like that. Think at me. Like telepathy.”

“Like this?” You chewed the inside of your cheek. This would take some getting used to.

“Exactly. Now go take care of your hand.”

“Fine. Are you going to stay like this?” You left your room, swinging into the empty bathroom before shutting the door behind you and searching through drawers.

“Like this?”

“A voice.” You realized you had spoken aloud. Right. Let’s not do that. “Or is there some other shit I’m not seeing?” You paused. Where were the band-aids?

“Would you prefer a visual?” Your SQUIP asked. You shrugged.

“I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Very well. I’ll see what I can do.”

“So. What exactly are you supposed to do?”

“Well. You want to "not be weird” and you want this “Jeremy Heere” to notice you. I am here to help you with this goal.”

“So... I might have a chance with Jeremy?”

“That’s my purpose.”

You nodded slowly, washing the dirt off of your hands, careful to clean the cuts there. “So... how do I do... that.”

“Let’s start with your appearance.”

“What about it?” You muttered, applying a small dab of Neosporin to a cut, before covering it with a band-aid.

“You need to change.”

“What?”

“You’re talking aloud again,” the SQUIP warned, before continuing on, “look at yourself.”

You did. You looked as you always did, albeit a little dirtier. “I don’t-” You stopped. “I don’t see what I need to change.”

“No one has noticed you in the past. That was your goal. Well, if you want to achieve being noticed, then you need to change. Your appearance only the first step.”

“That... doesn’t sound too good.”

“I assure you, it’s necessary. Look at yourself - you’re refusing to acknowledge your own assets when you wear things like this. You have to change.”

You cringed a little. If you’d known that-

“You’d never have gotten a SQUIP.”

“I’d have thought about it more,” you said.

“I am here to improve your life, [y/n]. I can guarantee you won’t regret having me here.”

You hoped it was right.

The chirp of your alarm woke you up the next morning, and for once you didn’t just turn it off and turn back over. You sat forward, silencing it and rubbed at your eyes. No voice. No nothing. Fuck, did you just dream everything? You looked down at your hand - bandages still were in place. Maybe you just passed out and hurt yourself and imagined the whole thing-

“Good morning,” Your SQUIP said, materializing beside your bed. You nearly shrieked, throwing a pillow in the general direction of what looked like a man in his twenties. It phased right through them, hitting the wall.

“What the fuck?” You snapped, and your SQUIP frowned.

“I do believe you asked about a visual form.” They crossed their arms, “now. Like I said - first we’ll focus on your appearance. Open your closet.”

You obeyed, opening your closet door. You watched as your SQUIP only looked over options. They reached out, fingers phasing through a shirt as they tapped at it.

“Wear this one.”

“Why this one?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes, and began getting ready to the day. Your SQUIP stood, arms folded against their chest as they watched you.

“Jeremy Heere signed up for the school’s play. That means you should find a way to get involved.”

“They’re already working on the play, dude,” you said, pulling the shirt over your head, “it’s not like I can get a part or something.”

“There’s more involved in theatre than acting, [y/n]. Now, you’re going to talk and join as crew. Maybe you can work makeup. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

“Alright.”

“You need to stop talking aloud. Your parents are awake now.”

“How do you-”

“I have my ways.”

You frowned. “I sold a signed Harry Potter book for you.”

“It will be worth it. Now stop talking to yourself. Think at me.”

You scowled a little. “Fine.”

You smiled at Rich, upon being prompted by your SQUIP to do so. He smiled back, he waved at you, and whoever he talked to whispered something seconds later. Your SQUIP strode behind you, and you could feel their eyes pinned to your back.

“Straighten your posture.” They said, voice biting. You hadn’t realized your posture- “[y/n].”

You did. Your SQUIP knew best, right?

“That is correct.”

Sometimes you forgot the SQUIP heard all your thoughts. It’d be best to be careful about that-

“OW,” you hissed in pain the moment a small shock made it’s way through your fingers.

“You have a habit of picking at your nails when you’re uncertain. You need to be confident.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Alright. Whatever you say.”

Whatever physical manifestation your SQUIP had come up with had lingered around you, careful not to be a distraction to you the entire time, but instructing you softly. When a teacher called on you the exact moment your attention slipped, the answer she’d been looking for spilled out of your mouth before you could process what was going on - and the SQUIP only shot you a smile that unnerved you far more than anything else around you.

Lunch came and you sat alone - or as alone as you could get with your SQUIP there. You ended up pulling out your phone and trying to ignore the voice in your head telling you that you looked like a loner just sitting there - you should go find Jeremy or-

“Mr. Reyes is in his classroom. Go talk to him. If you want to be with Jeremy, you have to find a way to get closer to him.”

“How do you-” You stopped. “Know that?”

“I can access the school cameras, [y/n]. He just returned to his classroom. Go.”

So you stood, grabbing your things and left the cafeteria, your SQUIP walking ahead of you. You felt a small zap travel down your spin, forcing you to stand straighter than before.

“Confidence.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

You strode down the hallway, glancing toward classrooms - some empty, some with classes - and made sure to stay quiet. Every so often you’d pass a student or two, but for the most part the walk up to the drama room was quiet. You pushed open the door to the stairwell, listening to it creak open and shut behind you as you headed toward the basement.

“So... what am I supposed to do about Jeremy? What about Michael?”

“You will need to befriend Michael. Being friends with Jeremy’s best friend will help you. Stop talking aloud.”

You shrugged. “Whatever.”

You pushed through the door, looking down the hallway. You could hear the sound of chatter coming from the drama room, and approached as quietly as you could. The door had been cracked open, and you could see Christine sitting across from Mr.Reyes’s desk, talking about something animatedly and-

You looked at your SQUIP, tearing away from the door to speak in a hushed whisper, “did you know Jeremy was-” A shock traveled through you. “Did you know Jeremy was going to be here?”

“I did.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Because you would have never come.”

“What the fuck? I could have prepared myself mentally for this shit!”

“Calm down. Just knock and I’ll guide you through the rest.”

“I don’t know-”

“Don’t. Just go and do as I say.”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded before turning, walking back to the drama room. Barely two knocks in, three sets of eyes were on you as you slowly pushed the door open.

“[y/n]!” Jeremy said, smiling.

“Smile. Greet them.”

The commands were dumb, but they calmed you and you put on a happy facade. “Hey.” You were kind of happy that Jeremy greeted you. Christine smiled at you, and Mr.Reyes recognized you.

“I don’t have any money if you’re bringing more cookies,” he said, laughing softly, “how can I help you, [y/n]?”

“Ask about helping with the play.”

“I was wondering if there’s anything I could do to help with the play,” you said, keeping your voice steady.

There’s a beat. “... Really?”

You could practically hear the SQUIP smirk, and you nodded. “I haven’t really been big into theatre-”

“But you wanted to give it a try.” Your SQUIP prompted. You nearly nodded, before realizing that’d be.. kind of weird and you were avoiding weird- “Calm down. I’m right here.”

“But I’ve been wanting to try- and I thought-”

“You’d start with crew and maybe audition when the musical comes up.”

“That I’d just... start with helping and maybe audition for the musical?”

Mr.Reyes glanced to Christine, before a smile broke across his face. “We could always use crew - and, if you’re good at stage makeup, we have some zombies...” He launched into a monologue about the play as you stood there, awkwardly smiling and nodding every so often.

Well, it certainly sounded interesting, that’s for sure.

“As soon as you need me.” The words escape your lips before you can realize what happened.

“You’re welcome.” Your SQUIP lingered around Jeremy, before glancing back to Mr.Reyes, who was glimmering with happiness.

“... Thanks.”

Play rehearsal was quiet. Then again, you basically raced there after school due to the fact Mr.Reyes asked you to come see the show and then eventually he’d put you in to help move set pieces and whatnot. You sat in the first row, your leg bouncing as you waited, your SQUIP sitting beside you.

A shock traveled through your fingers and you glanced down. You hadn’t realized you’d started picking at your nails again.

“You never do.”

“Shut up.”

“Jeremy will be arriving within minutes. You’ll have exactly four minutes and twenty seconds to speak with him before Christine arrives. Make use of it.”

You nearly snickered a little. Four-twenty.

“Stop.”

You frowned. “How much longer until Jeremy-”

The door screeched open, before letting out a loud whine as it started to shut itself. You looked up and saw Jeremy walking in, clutching his backpack’s straps in his hands. He smiled once he saw you. You nearly melted a little - fuck, the warmth of his smile could rival the sun.

“[y/n]?” He said, throwing his bag into a seat several rows back, unzipping and digging out a script.

“Jeremy! Hey,” you smiled - genuine this time. “So... how’s the play going?”

He walked over, sliding into the seat next to yours. Your SQUIP phased through him, annoyed slightly, but quietly stepping beside you. Jeremy ran his thumb along the rim of the script, before flipping it open. “It’s been... fine.”

Out of the corner of your eye, the SQUIP began to motion toward Jeremy, before pointing at his script.

“Who are you?”

He stared at you for a moment, obviously confused before glancing down to the script, “oh. uh, I’m... Lysander.”

“That’s great!” You nodded. “Who.”

“Ask him if he needs help with lines.”

You smiled again, “so,uh, Jeremy, do you need any help with lines? I mean, I’m not much of a theatre kid so I wouldn’t be that good but- ow!” You hissed in pain a little.

“You have limited time, [y/n], Christine will be here soon.”

“I’m fine,” Jeremy shifted in his seat, “I... just never knew you were into this stuff.”

“Drama? Oh, yeah, I’ve always-” Your SQUIP stepped beside you, staring at Jeremy.

They interrupt you, “it’s a recent interest. You’re exploring your options.”

“I mean, I’m always exploring stuff - so I thought I’d give drama a try. Y’know... try stuff and see what I like?”

“That’s… cool.” He looked down to his script, “so…”

You weren’t sure what to say, and struggled to revive the dying conversation. Then the words came too quickly and, before you could process them,you were speaking. “I can’t wait to watch, Jeremy, I’m sure you’ll be amazing.”

You watched as a blush crept over Jeremy’s cheeks and neck and to the tips of his ears. “T-Thanks. I mean, Christine’s the real star though-” He looked up at you, starry-eyed, before continuing, “I mean, have you seen her act? She’s amazing!”

You struggled to find something - anything to say to that. But your SQUIP took the initiative and forced you to stand, “I’ll be right back-” and you practically watched as your body moved, brushing past Christine as she walked into the room, and found a janitor’s closet to shut yourself in.

Your SQUIP released the control they had over your body, stepping in front of you.

“What the hell?” You snapped, “you didn’t have to-”

“Did you see how he talked about Christine?” Your SQUIP retaliated, “he isn’t interested - there’s other people at this school-”

“Are you saying it’s hopeless?” You said, pain plucking at your heartstrings - only for a shock to travel through your spine and your fingers, forcing you to stand straighter, your hands flying to your sides.

“No.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that this will be harder if you wish to keep pursuing this boy.” The SQUIP stared at you, hands resting at their hips as they towered over you. Then they stepped back, glancing to the door. You swore they smirked before looking back to you. The moment you heard a knock at the door, they spoke, “tear ducts activate.”

“Wait, what-” You managed before your words were lost as a sob choked you, tears streaming down your cheeks.

The door opened slowly, and you furiously wiped at your face, trying to hide the forced tears that fell. “Woah, hey - it’s [y/n], right?”

Michael Mell stood before you. Almost always in the past you’d noticed him only when he was around Jeremy - because that’s when you only ever saw him: in your classes with Jeremy. Honestly, you had wanted to talk to him in the past since he seemed like a nice enough guy, but you’d never really worked up the nerve to. But there he stood, the soft sound of music playing from his headphones as he gazed at you with the gentleness of a doe.

“[y/n]?” He said once again, voice soft. “Are you alright?”

"Y-Yeah, I just... Fuck, I don’t know why I’m-” You were cut off as another sob was forced from you.

Michael frowned, before nervously shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Do you... need a ride anywhere? I mean - I gotta give Jeremy his shit back, but I can give you a ride if you need it.”

Your phone buzzed at your hip. Your SQUIP set a hand on your shoulder. “Accept the ride. You need to befriend Michael for the outcome you want.”

You nodded slowly. “Y-Yes please.”

And he smiled at you. He fucking smiled at you and you felt the pit in your stomach for the first time in hours and you bit back everything. Every emotion that threatened to build up, every thought, everything and anything you were feeling - you bottled it all up without a second thought. You asked him to get your bag and tell Mr.Reyes that you felt sick, and he did and you were broken up about it. But your SQUIP stood and told you that this was all for the best.

Michael gave you his number. He said you could always text him and offered to invite you over on Saturday or whenever. It was small and sweet and you said you’d think about it, even while your SQUIP kept telling you to accept.

Michael waved at you after he drove you home, watching as you entered your house before driving off. You ended up hiding in your room, door locked as you changed clothes without a second thought. Fuck the rest of the day, you needed to think.

Rich invited you to eat lunch with him and his friends. The next day you sat with Michael and he complimented you on your shirt - some video game-themed merch you got on one birthday. When you asked about Jeremy, he grew quiet for a second, mulling over the thought.

“Drama.”

Figures. You’d have to face him sooner or later.

“He’s been busy. But,” he smiled at you, “he’s coming over on Saturday - and I think you should come.”

“Say yes.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I barely know Jeremy”

“Dude, it’s cool.”

“Say yes.”

“Michael, I just don’t know. But... sure. If you want me there.”

He was genuinely happy, smiling brightly as he fidgeted with his headphones. Your SQUIP moved, now standing in your direct line of sight. “Ask him for a ride.”

“Hey, uh, Michael, you... wouldn’t mind giving me a ride on Saturday?”

“No problem! I gotta get Jer anyway.”

You couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled in your stomach.

The play was weird. You liked it. You really, really liked it. And honestly, you kinda saw why Jeremy liked Christine. She was passionate about everything she did - she calculated every gesture to make the most of every line, and just seemed like an angel in general. Jeremy, on the other hand, was more unsure - he learned his lines and he was decent but there was uncertainty practically dripping from him.

“He could use a SQUIP of his own.”

“Oh fuck no. I’m not giving Jeremy a SQUIP.”

“It was just a thought. It would certainly make my job easier-”

“Fuck off.”

Your SQUIP went quiet. You were kinda surprised that worked.

Rich approached you after play rehearsal, and stood there, only staring at you. He mumbled something to himself. Then he left you standing alone.

Weird.

“Keep an eye on him.”

“So you’re back?”

“I never left.”

“Right.”

“Jeremy is approaching you. It’s likely he wants to talk about Saturday.”

You turned to find that Jeremy was indeed approaching you, stopping a few steps back, tightening his grip on his backpack’s straps. “Hey, [y/n]. So... Michael may have mentioned that you’re coming over on Saturday and I just- I didn’t know you and Michael were friends.”

“It’s a recent thing.”

“Michael? Yeah, we, uh, became friends pretty recently-” You felt a shock travel through your fingers again and winced. “He’s really nice.”

“Say you’re excited for Saturday.”

“I’m excited for Saturday,” you said, smiling.

“You know what Saturday is, right?”

“No?”

“Halloween.” Your SQUIP’s voice clashed with Jeremy’s, and you shuddered.

“Halloween?”

“Yeah! I thought you’d be at Jake Dillinger’s Halloween party - I mean, you and Rich are friends and Rich would probably take you if you wanted-”

“Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“They could be,” your SQUIP taunted.

“I... see. Then... see you Saturday?”

You smiled, about to repeat the statement if it weren’t for the SQUIP deciding to speak for you, “see you in class, Jeremy.”

His eyes widened at the remark, before he smiled awkwardly. “Yeah - right, tomorrow.”

You were gonna fight your SQUIP.

“So is there any way to get rid of you?” You asked as you waited in your room. Michael had texted you he was on his way five minutes ago.

“No.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I am not.”

“Who the fuck makes a supercomputer in a pill that can... do all this shit and not make a way to get rid of it?”

“I assure you, you won’t need to get rid of me.”

You frowned. “Yeah... alright.”

“I hope you realize it’s become evident you don’t trust me, [y/n]. But I assure you, everything is working toward your goals.”

“You sure?”

“I am positive.”

You nodded slowly. Your phone buzzed. That was Michael.

Time to lose at video games.

“Dude, I got the coolest shit!”

Michael moved from between you and Jeremy after pausing the game - Apocalypse of the Damned, something you’d never played but were certain you still had a sealed copy of in our room somewhere - and knelt down next to his bed, reaching underneath.

“This dude at Spencer’s Gifts managed to get his hands on this.”

Jeremy looked back at you. “Michael buys these discontinued sodas from some guy that works there. Last time he bought a case of Crystal Pepsi.”

The sound of cans clinking together grabbed your attention, and then Michael turned back to the two of you. He held up a can of some red soda. “Mountain Dew Red! Discontinued in the nineties. I also managed to snag a two-liter of the stuff,” he said, smiling. “You want one?”

“No.”

You smiled, pushing your SQUIP’s respond out of mind, “sure.”

“[y/n].”

“It’s just fucking soda.” You took a can from Michael, cracking it open. “Thanks, dude-”

Pain spiraled through your hand, the soda slipping as you hissed in pain. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and looked back to Michael. “Fuck, dude, I’m sorry, I don’t know what just happened- I have to go.”

Your body moved on it’s own, as your out of his house and started on the way down the street. Eventually the grasp was gone and you stumbled forward, falling to your knees as you breathed heavily.

“What the actual fuck? It was just a fucking can of soda!”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s better that you go home.”

You didn’t move. “Oh my god. That’s it. That’s what deactivates you.”

“Go home.”

“I’m going back to Michael - I’d rather befriend Jeremy by myself. I’m tired of you forcing me to do this shit - I don’t want to use Michael, I don’t want to SQUIP Jeremy, and I’m tired of your bullshit-”

“Go. Home.”

You turned and started back toward Michael’s house. One shock traveled down your spine. You took another step.

Another shock - like any other.

Another step.

That was the final blow. Another shock bit into you, sending you to your knees as you felt tears escape you.

“[y/n]!”

You looked up. Michael and Jeremy were racing toward you. You breathed, before crying out, “Mountain Dew Red - please! I’ll explain later-”

Jeremy was at your side, while Michael left, going back to his house. “[y/n], what the hell-”

You choked out a sob. You couldn’t speak.

“Listen. You don’t want to do this. Think about it - how are you supposed to get Jeremy-”

“I don’t care,” you choked out, tears running down your cheeks. “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care-”

“You’ll never be the same.”

“I don’t care.”

“[y/n]?”

“You’ll never be accepted.”

“I don’t care.”

“[y/n], pleas-e”

“Jeremy will never love you.”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

You were a broken record, repeating the phrase over and over.

“Michael!”

The last thing you remembered was everything going black after intense pain filling you, and the faint flavor of fruity soda on your lips.

Your parents interrogated you the moment you woke up. At least, they tried to before the doctor forced them out after seeing the panic that filled you. Even after all the pain you’d been through, there was the worst feeling - as if something had been ripped from you. The doctor asked you questions, and you answered them, uncertain at your own answers.

Everything just seemed so empty now.

That’s when it clicked. The SQUIP was gone.

Holy shit.

Christine was the first one to see you, carrying sunflowers and chocolate that she sneaked in for you. She sat at the end of your bed and told you everything - including the story of Rich setting a fire the night of Jake’s Halloween party, and then promised she’d swing by before she left since Rich was somewhere and deserved some cheering up. You could really see why Jeremy liked her.

Michael came by a few days later. He told you he’d bring Jeremy next time he came before asking - or, demanding an explanation. So you told him everything. Every last bit - and he was rightfully pissed at the notion of you using him for Jeremy.

But he kept his word, and practically shoved Jeremy into your hospital room. And apparently, he told Jeremy everything.

“Look... Jeremy, before you say anything-”

“I’m not mad. I mean, I am, but-”

“I fucked up. I know, I’m sorry, I just-” You shut your eyes, trying to avoid crying.

“[y/n], listen.” He paused, taking a deep breath, “you could have talked to me. Maybe... we can be friends?”

It was quiet, but he still said it. You weren’t sure whether he meant it or whether he was saying it just to make you feel better. His hand was on yours, and you looked up.

“Promise we can try?” You croaked and you sweore your body was fighting against you - he’s lying he’s lying he’s lying he would never be your friend, not after what you did-

“We can try. I promise.”

#bean writes things #be more chill #be more chill reader insert #be more chill x reader #bmc #bmc reader insert #bmc x reader #jeremy heere x reader #i guess i should... also tag this for anyone who uh needs it #abuse tw #manipulation tw #idk what else but if i need to tag it as anything else please please please tell me

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