#just one more final paper & then an application for a summer course

[rootbeerqueer]

my professor gave me a 2 day extension on my final & guess what? i’m still not turning it in

[eds6ngel]

✎ when i kissed the teacher | part five

summary: with summer break starting, it's time for you to pack up your things and leave hawkins elementary. so, will you be able to find a new job? and will you ever reunite with steve, the man that not only started this whole mess, but that you also love?

part one ♡ part two ♡ part three ♡ part four ˚⋆｡˚ full masterlist.

warnings: dad!steve. singledad!steve. 90s!au. fem!reader. use of y/n. swearing. mutual pining. slow burn. a lil bit of hurt. tons of fluff by the end. mentions of food. job interviews!! slight age gap [r is 25, steve is 29]. roommate amy being the best friend we all need. no more warnings as this is the finale!! [3.6k].

Finishing up your last week at Hawkins Elementary was not the easiest. Not only were you met with multiple days of children’s tears, hours spent reassuring them that everything was going to be okay, but the other teachers began to judge you. You would enter the staff room to dirty looks and ignorant comments. But, of course, adults bullying co-workers wasn’t fire-worthy, was it?

You packed your classroom up last Monday, the white walls, once covered in student’s artwork and decorative pieces, now bare. It made you feel melancholic and nostalgic simultaneously. Almost three years ago, you were walking into that first grade classroom for the first time, ready to made your dedicated space feel like home.

And now you were leaving, much earlier than anticipated. This should’ve been your second home for the rest of your life. But, now it was going to belong to someone else. Someone else was gonna fill the walls of student artwork, of decorative pieces, of their own little trinkets to display appropriate parts of their personality. It should’ve been you. It should’ve always been you.

Your permanent record was updated the day of your departure, the job search becoming increasingly difficult by the hour. Teaching positions cropped up everywhere, especially since you lived so close to Indianapolis, a mere twenty minute drive.

Yet, so far, none had even given you an interview offer. Many point blank stated that your record was the issue, the others you could definitely assume by their rejection wording.

The sound of your apartment door opening disrupts you from your job search, and from you continuing to stare into space.

Your roommate Amy arrives home with a paper bag full of groceries in hand, the fruit collection peeking out of the top. “How is your wonderful afternoon going?” she cheerily asks, a smile on her face, placing the groceries onto your kitchen counter.

You huff, placing your head in between your hands, “Shit. I’m not getting anything, Ames. I’m gonna have to resort to becoming a fashion retailer or something. I’m running short on money to split the goddamn bills with you.”

“Well,” she smirks, pursing her lips and creeping up to you, whipping a sheet of paper out from behind her back, “I may have a solution for you.”

You take the sheet of paper from her, inspecting the cover as it reads: TEACHING POSITION AVAILABLE. $30,000 ANNUAL SALARY. SECOND GRADE TEACHER. FULL-TIME. ERNIE PYLE SCHOOL 90.

“Ames, this is such a prestigious school! Aren’t they in, like… the top ten in Indianapolis or something?”

She hums, “Mhm, which is exactly why you should at least put an application in!”

You groan at her optimism, “I have a permanent mark on my record. They’re gonna turn me away the second they see it!”

She heads back to the kitchen, beginning to un-pack the groceries, mumbling out, “Well, you never know.”

And, she wasn’t entirely wrong. Even if it was a one in a million chance, a chance is still a chance.

“Screw it,” you thought, you were gonna put a damn application in. The highly likely rejection was just adding to the list by now, it wasn’t even a sharp sting in your heart like it used to be anymore.

Why not take a chance?

And, my God, was that chance worth taking.

It was a Sunday afternoon, you relaxing on the couch reading your favourite book, when all of a sudden, the landline phone rings.

Amy was currently out on a date with her boyfriend, so you had the house to yourself. You put your bookmark in its place, moving from your comfy position on the couch with a groan, walking over to grab the phone from its stand placed on the wall. “Hello?”

“Hello. Is this Miss. L/N?”

“It is her, yes,” you reply, the voice of an older-sounding man speaking down the phone to you.

“Nice to hear from you, Miss. L/N. I am calling from Ernie Pyle School 90 regarding your application for the second grade.”

Great, another rejection to add to the overgrowing list.

“We do see that there is a strike on your permanent record, but we also do take notice that you have a lot of other qualities we admire here. So, we would like to bring you in for an interview, if that’s all right? That way, we can get a good idea of your character and what the strike really entailed from your perspective. Does that sound good with you?”

You had to knock yourself back into reality as the words are spoken down the line. They were actually offering you a fucking interview.

“Umm… Yeah! Yeah, that sounds amazing, thank you! When would you like me to come in?”

So, two days later, you were dressed up in your smartest attire, walking into the brown-bricked building, the school a lot smaller than you had anticipated.

An older man, who seemingly matched the voice on your landline, greeted you at the entrance, the school empty for the Summer Break.

He directed you to his office, you neatly placing yourself on the chair in front of his desk, sitting appropriately, trying to appear as professional as possible.

“So, I’m sure you’re aware of the interview process from your previous work listed on your CV, so if you wouldn’t mind telling me a little about yourself,” he begins.

You breathe out, smiling at him, “Of course. I grew up in Indiana, more towards the north in a quite rural area. Growing up as a child in the seventies, I really felt under-appreciated as a student, as if I wasn’t valued. So, that’s where my love of teaching started to grow. I wanted to lead the next generation of students in a way that I felt, and many other of my friends at the time felt, would’ve been beneficial.”

“Well, as someone who has been working in schools since the seventies, I can see why you thought that way,” he chuckles. “It seems your generation has been the leader of change. Okay, we all know that students can become a handful at times. So, tell me, how would you deal with a stressful situation?”

“Well, firstly I would find the identifier of the situation by calmly asking the child what happened, as that helps me form a route to solve the issue. At my previous school, I had a student who got pushed into the mud and his favourite t-shirt got ruined, which made him extremely resentful and angry towards a boy. I got him a spare t-shirt to change into and promised I would scrub it out as best as I could during lunch break, which I followed through with. I then brought the two boys together, asking the other boy why he did it and he said that his friend allowed him to do it the previous day, so I taught the lesson of consent and how our feelings towards a situation can change from moment to moment. The boy apologised, the other boy accepted that and rode through his emotions. And by the end of the day, his t-shirt was just like before, mud stain-free. I’ve found that it’s much better for myself to understand the reasons behind something, instead of resorting to a lack of control over my own emotions and lashing out at one or both of them.”

The principal smiles at you, replying, “That’s a wonderful answer, thank you for that. Now, as you brought your previous school up, I do have to ask you about the strike on your permanent record. It says here that you, quote, ‘Broke student confidentiality,’ so I was hoping you could talk me through that situation. We here at Ernie Pyle like to overview a situation before immediately judging, much like yourself with stressful situations. So, please, go ahead,” he directs you.

You breathe out, trying to present your answer in a non-biased viewpoint, “There was a student’s father that I can confirm we both mutually did have feelings for each other. I set my boundaries in place last Christmas as he did try to ask me out, but I told him exactly that: student confidentiality. But, the school’s Easter Brunch rolled around, he helped me tidy up my classroom whilst the kids were on recess, and we kissed.” You purse your lips, having a sinking feeling that this was not going to secure you the job, “I would say he initiated it, but I also leaned in, because as I said, we both did have feelings for each other, so that part of my brain took over. However, I did pull back fairly quickly and asked him to leave promptly. The kiss was caught on the security cameras, and since it happened, I got fired for that reason.”

You bite your lip in nervousness, anticipating the rejection. However, you were presented with a far more mature answer that you were expecting.

The principal presents a thoughtful expression, “Hmm… I see. You said that you stated your boundaries before, yes?”

“I did sir, yes.”

“And that kiss was initiated by the male parent, to which you reciprocated for a short amount of time, before eventually pulling away, removing yourself from the damaging situation?”

“Correct, yes.”

He looks you in the eyes, leaning forward in his seat, “And have you contacted this parent outside of the school hours, whether that be after school, during school breaks or over the weekends?”

You shake your head, “I have not, no. The only time we spoke after school hours was when he aided me in running the school’s Christmas Fayre.”

“I see…” he pauses for a moment, “I’m going to ask you one more question before making my decision, if that’s all right with you,” to which you nod with a smile. “You worked at your previous school for three years, and I’m sure you’re aware that we really value applicants that have that prior experience. So, what skills have you learnt or improved as your time as a teacher of elementary school children?”

You look off to the side, sighing happily at the memories of your previous students. You turn your head to look back up at the principal, your answer coming confidently to your brain, no fears present. “I’ve learnt how to time manage and be organised. I would schedule my day in the morning to have certain worksheets and items stored in accessible places for me to switch over in between recesses and lunch breaks. Also, not all kids learn at the same pace, so I have to factor in extra activities for the children who complete their work a little faster than some of the other students. But, I think the most important thing I learnt was empathy. Children are just smaller, more innocent versions of us adults. I’ve found that many adults believe they must control their children, but I’ve learnt from my experience as a teacher that it’s better to approach every child with warmth, kindness and love. I’ve heard lots of children say that they hate school as young as five years old, and I want to be the one to change that. I want my students to feel safe and loved in my class, and for them to have it be one of their favourite parts of their day.”

He leans back in his chair, sighing out as he takes his glasses off, “I’m just… Wow. I am truly amazed by your answers, Miss. L/N. They are absolutely phenomenal. These are the exact values we like to promote here at Ernie Pyle and you would be a great addition to our team.”

Was he actually kidding? This sounded like an acceptance…

He sits in his chair with his eyebrows furrowed, a thinking look on his face, “However, I do run into this issue of your strike… But, I’m willing to find a way around it. Willing to put in some extra rules.”

You nod, perhaps a little too eagerly, “Anything. I’ll take on any extra rules you require.”

He looks at you once more, “Okay, I’m willing. These are what your rules are gonna be: You cannot speak to any male parent alone in your classroom, whether that be with their child present or not. If they ask you a question whilst dropping off their child, you must direct them to Mrs. Lane, who is going to be your teaching assistant. As well as this, obviously following the previous rules, no parent can aid you in any after school activities, events, or anything of a similar nature. If you need guidance with an event, you must ask another member of staff to aid you. These are the rules I’m offering you, okay?”

“Of course sir, I completely understand.”

“And I’m going to be super strict with this. If I even see you step slightly out of line, I won’t hesitate to add another strike to that record of yours. Do you understand?”

“100% sir. Absolutely,” you respond.

He smiles, raising from his seat, you copying his action as he extends his hand out to you, saying the words you’ve been waiting to hear for a long time: “You’re hired. Welcome to Ernie Pyle.”

You walk into the front door of your apartment, your hair now a disheveled mess from the windy storm forming outside. Amy looks up from her seat on the couch, re-runs of old episodes of Friends playing on the TV mounted on the wall.

She simply snorts, “Jesus. You look like shit.”

You shut the apartment door behind you, replying with a chuckle, “Yeah, tell me about it.”

She stands up, walking over to you where you had dumped your purse onto the small table where the pair of you eat, “So, how did it go?”

You decided to play with your best friend’s emotions, sighing solemnly as you act sad, mumbling out, “Turns out I have to start taking care of kids five days a week again…”

She furrows her eyebrows, before gasping, putting her hand over her mouth in shock, “You got it?”

You smile widely and giggle, “Yeah, I got it.”

She screams a little too loudly, lifting you off the floor in a hug in excitement, squeaking out, “Oh my God, this is amazing! I told you you would get it!”

You part from each other, you playfully rolling your eyes, joking, “Yeah, yeah. You were right again.”

She smirks overdramatically, “Of course I am. When am I ever wrong?”

You chuckle as she jumps up and down, still in shock at your news, “Holy shit, holy shit! You have to call Steve!”

You part from her again, looking at her with a confusion expression as you let out a “What?”

“Steve. You know, the guy you’ve been crushing on for almost a year?” she says with a smile, “You have to call him!”

You sigh out, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Ames, they just put a bunch of extra rules in for me because of that whole situation. I don’t think they’d be very happy if I suddenly start speaking to him.”

Amy groans at you in frustration, “But, Y/N, he’s not your student’s dad anymore. What are they gonna do? Fire you by association? If anything, that’ll make them more at ease as you’ll be taken, so less likely to become flirty with other student’s dads!”

You let out a long breath, thinking over your best friend’s words, before shaking your head, “Nope! Nope! I’m not doing it, Ames!”

She nods eagerly, “Yes you are!” she teases, running back to the living room and grabbing the phonebook from off the bookshelf, before returning to grab your hand, dragging you onto the couch as you plop down. She shoves the phonebook into your lap, pointing at you, “You’re gonna look up his last name and I’m going to watch you pick up that phone, dial his number and call him. Okay?”

You huff, your breath blowing the hairs out of your face as you complain, “Fine! I’ll do it.”

Amy smiles widely, clapping her hands together and shouting, “Yay!”

You open the phonebook, flipping through until you reach the letter ‘H.’ You scan through the names, reaching the correct starting letters. Hare-, Hari-, Harp-, Has—

“Uh.. Ames?” you say, blinking rapidly, her humming at you, “It’s not in here.”

“What do you mean it’s not in there?” she questions, walking over and sitting next to you on the cream-coloured couch.

“His last name is Harrington. Look,” you point to the page, “It says Harps, and then skips on to names beginning ‘Has.’ He’s not fucking in here.”

“You’re not joking with me? You aren’t making up that name to not call him?”

You look her dead in the eyes, “I’m not kidding. He’s not in here.”

“I mean, he must be one of those rare people who really values privacy. Had his name removed or something,” she replies.

You huff, rolling your eyes and slamming the book shut, placing it back on the bookshelf, “I guess the Universe is telling me really not to go through with it, huh?” you direct at your best friend, turning around and storming into your room, closing the door forcefully behind you.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little bit disappointed… Okay, maybe more than a little.

But… maybe not all hope was lost.

You and Amy took turns taking on the weekly adulting tasks, splitting the boring household chores between the two of you.

You had travelled into Indianapolis, grabbing your weekly groceries for the two of you. You were browsing the selection of cheeses, deciding which one would taste the nicest in relation to your budget. However, a tall man was leaning over you, trying to reach an item located above your head. However, once he spoke, you recognised that voice from anywhere

“I’m so sorry, I just need to grab—” The man looks down at you as you look up at him, your eyes connecting in an intense gaze, “Holy shit… Y/N?”

“Steve?” you breathe out, trying to register the fact that the man you thought you would never see again in your life is standing right in front of you. He’s wearing a Wham! t-shirt, light blue jeans, and a denim jacket in a similar shade. And my God does he look gorgeous.

And he thought the same about you as you stood there in your yellow, flowy dress. Perfect for the warm Indiana summer, and perfect for you. It hugged you so well, in all the right places. It made you look breathtaking.

“Um, hi! Hi… How— How are you?” he asks, blinking rapidly as he tries to form a sentence, his body still shocked from not only how beautiful you look, but the chances of you two meeting in the same grocery store out of your towns.

“I’m doing good, how have you been?” you respond, trying to keep the conversation as casual as possible.

“Pretty great, yeah…” He pauses for a moment, staring at the ground, afraid he would blush if he looked at you again, “Alena’s great too, by the way. Just in case you wanted to know…”

You nod, “I’m glad you two are doing good. I know that me leaving and all probably took a great toll on her, and I wanted to say sorry—”

However, he interrupts you, “Wait, you left the school?”

You sigh out, realising that Alena must’ve not shared the news with her dad, most likely too nervous to tell him that it was because of his actions. “Yeah… I got fired. They caught us kissing on the security cameras and you know… student confidentiality, you know all about that shit.”

“Shit…” he breathes out, sinking in the fact that his actions were the reason for your job loss. “I’m sorry. I never should have kissed you. It was completely my fault and I—”

But now, it’s your time to interrupt him. You giggled, “Steve, I promise, it’s okay. Besides…” you look up, smiling, “I may have found a better teaching job that pays more anyway. You kind of saved me in a way.”

He chuckles awkwardly, “Yeah… I suppose I did…”

The two of you laugh together before the air falls into silence again, the sounds of regular shoppers and beeping machines filling the atmosphere.

Steve was the one to speak what seemed to be the thought lingering on both of your minds, “So… Does that mean I can ask you out again?”

You decide to tease him, “Depends what’s in store, Harrington.”

He laughs at your comment, “Well, I was thinking I pick you up, I take you to a fancy restaurant, and then we shoot the shit, see where the night takes us… Not in a sexual way of course! I just mean in general…” He mentally face-palms himself. Why did he have to phrase it like that?

You giggle at his ramblings, “I like the sound of that,” you smile up at him, your heart fluttering all the more faster, “When are you thinking for?”

“Um… Friday night, seven o’clock at your place?” he asks.

And you verbalise the answer that he’s been wanting to hear for almost a year, the two of you finally being allowed to love each other: “It’s a date.”

and that's the end!! i hope you all enjoyed this five part series, i had so much fun writing it!! now... where do we go from here?

so, if you've checked out the masterlist to this series, you may have noticed the 'spinoffs' section. that's because i'm giving you guys leverage over the future of this little au!!

so, what spinoffs would you like to see? steve and r's first date? them officially getting together? first outing as a couple with alena? even future down the line? it's totally up to you, these are merely suggestions!!

i will be opening my asks back up next week for this series only, so i can't wait to see what scenarios you guys come up with!!

as always, thank you for dedicating your time to reading this entire series, it means so much to me!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @cats00089 @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 comment if you wanna be added/removed from the spinoffs taglist!!

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day twenty-seven

"Let me remind you."

original fiction (power payback)

word count: 902

For a moment, Sprout had thought she had forgotten the way to her family’s nursery. 

Of course, once she pulled up to the parking lot, she knew she could never forget it. The first sixteen years of her life had been spent here: watching her mom work her botanokinesis to create plants that could withstand the harsh desert heat, sitting with Magni under the gazebo near the back of the property to do homework under Primrose’s watch, working the counter during the summers for extra allowance. 

Crossing the gate, ignoring the CLOSED sign, felt like breaking a rule. The sun was starting to set, the darkness making the plants look more menacing than beautiful. Sprout tucked her hands into her pockets, pulling them closer to her. 

She went to the shop and knocked on the staff only door, already feeling her heart pounding in her chest. 

This was a bad idea. Thinking she and Magni could strike out on their own was a bad idea. Coming back here was a bad fucking idea. 

The door swung open. 

“Daisy?” Primrose asked. Despite the fact that her sister had probably been here since opening, she still looked pristine in her smart pale pink dress. It helped that she’d claimed handling the paperwork and keeping her own hands clean once their grandmother had passed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey.” She took out the folded HELP WANTED sign from her pocket. “Heard you were looking for a part-time cashier.” 

Primrose sighed. “Before I tell you no, let me remind you. Grandma said you weren’t allowed to work here. Ever.” 

“I hate to remind you, but Grammy Rosemary’s been dead for, I don’t know, eight years now.” Sprout crossed her arms. “You can just tell me no. I kinda knew it was a lost cause. But if you hear me out-” 

“This is highly unprofessional. Come in.” 

She followed her sister inside to the small break room. Luckily, it seemed like it just been her; no sign of their parents, her brother-in-law, or, what she was most grateful for, her own brother. If Basil had been here, there was no chance Primrose would have even tried. Not that she blamed him. 

Primrose sat at the table, picking up the mug that had been there, still steaming. “Did you fill out an application and bring your resume?” 

“Yes, and yes.” She pulled them out from another pocket - thank God for cargo pants. It might not have been professional enough for her sister to unfold them, but she had more tact when it wasn’t with family. And wasn’t sure she was walking into failure. 

She took the papers from Sprout and smoothed them out. Her face was still as stone as she read them. She wasn’t sure what Primrose could learn from her resume that she hadn’t learned from family gatherings where her dull job verifying insurance claims was one of few safe topics. 

“Hm. You graduated magna cum laude from UNBC’s criminal justice program. Very promising.” 

“I’m sorry that it wasn’t summa cum laude. My statistics professor at Bright City College was a hard-ass.”

Primrose glared at her from over her resume. It was a smart ass comment, she knew, but Sprout couldn’t hold her tongue. 

“I hate to inform you, but the position’s already been filled,” Primrose said, finally setting down the papers in her hand. 

Sprout balked. “So why did you have me come in here to string me along?” 

“Because I know why you came here. I heard about you and Magni’s detective business. I can’t give you a job, but I can try to help. Consider it… part-part-time.” 

She sighed. “It’s better than nothing.” Straightening up, she continued, “I mean, thank you. So much.” 

Primrose passed her resume back over. “I’m just surprised you actually came to me. You refused to let Mom and Dad help you pay for your first apartment, or Bright City College. And I know Dad had to pressure you into letting him co-sign your student loans.” 

It was true. She loved her family, but she didn’t want to feel obligated to them. Once, she had placed her whole future in upholding their legacy. Now she knew, even in this capacity, she would never be a part of that. 

“It’s rough. Magni and I don’t have many savings, and it’s hard to find cases when you’re newbies on the scene. Lots of PIs, you know, they were already with police, and have some credence there. Magni at least worked for Hillson, and people know him there. But he can’t take too many technopathy cases and I- I feel like I’m not doing anything,” Sprout confessed. It was the most raw she’d been with her sister since she had her burnout. “I just want to keep our bills paid.” 

She stood up. “I’ve always admired that about you. That you just… don’t give up. It’s annoying as hell sometimes, but you don’t like to accept defeat.” 

Sprout leaned back in her chair. It was rare that she got the chance to look up at Primrose. “I accepted defeat when Grandma banned me from working here.” 

“But you came back.” 

She grinned. “Okay. I did.” 

“Don’t block my number. I’ll call you when I need you.” Primrose picked up her mug. “And… I’ll break the news to Mom and Dad.” 

“And Basil?” 

Guilt washed over her face. “And Basil.”

[jyp-priestess]

Lee Haneul was born on May 28th, 1999 as Li Ling. She was welcomed into the world by the bustling city of Shanghai, China, and her very successful producer parents. She walked and talked at the age of one before her little sister would take a share of her spotlight a year later. Li Xiang was partially left in her older sister’s care while their family welcomed their baby brother, Li Cheng. Despite their attention hogging, Haneul loved her siblings to death and gave them more love than they could ever ask for.

Haneul grew up with a plethora of opportunities. Her family had a theatre background, a big chunk of her family were musicians, and her parents were, of course, producers. With this, she grew up in a very musically inclined environment. However, she was still encouraged to pursue other fields despite this fact. They found it beneficial for her to branch out and expect different things instead of forcing something into her. These being her involvement in figure skating, volleyball, harp, violin, dance, singing, art, and much more.

From the young age of 6-12, Haneul did figure skating. Of course she did her training as well, but figure skating was her main focus aside from academics right up until she passed the audition. She won numerous medals and was well known in Shanghai for this.

Her siblings looked up to her and her achievements, but she encouraged them to go their own paths. Haneul never thought what she was doing was the best course of action, despite her huge self-confidence, so she didn’t want to influence her younger siblings to go on the same direction. She wanted them to complete their education from start to finish and get good-paying jobs to live happy, fulfilled lives.

During her summers as a kid, Haneul would help work her grandparents’ farm, but also do puppet and paper theater shows for the little kids. She’s always been a performer at heart. She showed great empathy in others and tried to help or make someone smile the best she could, friends and family often found it to be one of her best qualities.

As she grew older, her desire for music grew and her understanding of it widened. Haneul quickly outgrew the talent and dance agency she was in, and decided to enter a local audition of YG Entertainment. There were no other companies with open auditions in the area at that specific time so she went for it, hoping for the best.

On the application form Haneul did not write how she was the daughter of big producers. Of course, being 13 and having done the academic achievements she had, you’d expect a child to be mature by then, but it felt as if she was ready to be an adult. Her excuse that she finally revealed later on was, “I didn’t want such a small, but significant, factor to give me an advantage or disadvantage over the other people who were trying to get accepted too. Fighting on an equal platform feels a lot better than not.”

Roughly a month later, she was accepted, and on the condition she’d start her training whenever she graduated from high school. Maybe she was greedy at the time, but she studied extra hard that summer and took all the necessary tests to graduate early just before entering her 2nd year of high school. That decision turned out to become one of the best ones in her life. Of course she also became widely known for how she passed those tests with flying colors, a mark of her intelligence.

She was a trainee at YGE for roughly a year before SME requested she transferred. They’d seen her monthly evaluations and knew that someone that talented needs to be put in somewhere bigger and grander, or whatever their excuse was. Haneul didn’t care too much, but thought experiencing a different environment would be beneficial.

Haneul’s time at her 2 years at SME gave her more contacts and friendships than YGE could ever. Sure she came to know some of the biggest in the industry, but the trainees and debuted groups made her feel like home. They’d wake her up at 4 in the morning to raid her fridge and have her cook them food, and then proceeded to bug her the entire day. That was what made them all lovable… all 40 or so of them.

Even as a trainee, Haneul spent about 60% of the time dancing and singing, plus other typical trainee things. But that other 40% she spent at the company was for producing. She came from such a big producing background it was hard to ignore it. Some days she’d practice with her tracks, other times she’d dump them in a trash, it was a matter of taste mostly.

Then, to her greatest surprise and delight, JYPE offered her a job as one of their producers. She signed the contract and transferred, but never lost touch with her friends. That decision was probably the best one of her life. Believe it or not, she felt the most free at JYPE.

Haneul’s time as a trainee at JYPE was nothing short of well, short. Time flew by too fast, and she made connections quickly. Maybe it was how warm and sociable Bang Chan was, who knew practically everyone, or that she worked on pretty much everyone’s tracks, or maybe her own extroverted self was the cause of all of it. She loved the busy life regardless.

The 9 boys quickly became close and clamored over her every time they saw her. She didn’t mind, but to be truthful, there were days she wanted to spend alone or only with a single one of them. But that of course, is hard to make a reality with how clingy they were.

Haneul and 3Racha bonded the quickest, sharing their love of making music. On top of that, there was no doubt she was close to Chan and vise versa. Somedays they’d be coddled her but against one another, and others piled on top, without any worries. In fact, it was a huge worry for Haneul as Chan was pretty oblivious and her ever growing crush was a hot topic around her sunbaenims. She could never hate them for it despite how red she’d become when they began talking about it.

2017 came and Haneul was given the chance to debut. In fear of it overlapping with the Stray Kids show, she did prep over time, right up until the final episode aired and her debut in less than a week. However, she was teased far before the show even began airing. What an eventful period. The time she spent cooped up in offices and recording studios, then out shooting music videos and teasers was probably the most stressed she’d been.

She supported the boys through their entire journey on their, and thoroughly surprised them with her own debut as teasers flew in every week. She sacrificed many sleepless nights helping them cope rather than worry about her next recording or photo shoot for debut matters. She had even talked with JYP about their mental health in worry about how they’d proceed on the show.

The week she debuted and after was the busiest but quite possibly one of the happiest times of her life. She was given a lot of encouragement, even being called an early Christmas present at some point. Regardless, that was just how far she had came on her journey, and it was all worth it.

[saph-writes]

Kris Needs a Vacation

ao3 link:

Summary: BC Sol has grown tremendously over the past year or so. However, with their newfound popularity, came their own downsides. In this case, hundreds and hundreds of applications to join.

Now Kris needed to find someone to fit the recruitment position. That shouldn't be too hard, right?

Words: 2120

Valt

Kris sat in her office, deep in thought and glancing at the calendar slightly. It was summer, the month of June, and the time where new recruits are chosen to join the highly sought-after team, BC Sol.

When they had won the European League nearly a year ago, to say that they were ecstatic would be an understatement. She still remembered the tears that rolled down her cheeks when she saw the team of her dreams cheering and crying around her, hugging and jumping at the battle she couldn’t believe came from one of them. The blissful atmosphere that engulfed everyone.

Then as if that wasn’t enough, a short time later came the International Blader’s Cup, and 4 of her own bladers were invited, even two finishing in the finals. The tournament ended with Valt becoming world champion, a title she couldn’t have prouder of, seeing a kid that has grown to great heights.

Her team was flourishing, right before her eyes. But of course, with those accomplishments under the team’s belt, came with their own issues, which brings her right back to what sat in front of her.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of applications, all coming from bladers hoping to join BC Sol.

She groaned and ran her fingers through her hair, laying her arm on the table to think of what she was going to do. Previously, the job was done by her and Trad, but of course Trad was no longer on the team, and she was already having troubles balancing managing the team and being the director of the WBBA.

She had gone to asked Raul, but he declined the job. When asked why, he didn’t give much of an answer, other than it’s not a position that is for him. Who does that leave, then? Maybe one of the bladers...?

Knock knock

“Hm?” Kris glanced up at the door. It was slightly ajar with a sheepishly familiar head of blue hair appearing behind it. She smiled. “You can come in.”

Valt popped his head in the room.

“Sorry to bother you,” he laughed. Stepping inside, she saw the stack of papers in his hands, and could already feel the headache coming. “These are the rest of the applications that were sitting in the office. Though I think I missed a couple-“

“It’s fine! Just set them on the table over there.”  She let out a sigh, but kept a strained smile on her face. “I’m assuming you finished your trip?”

He immediately lit up.

“Yeah, it was awesome! Everyone was so nice and there were so many cool sights over there! I wish I got to battle more though. But still, it was so much fun!”

Kris softened a bit when an idea popped in her head.

“Say… How long is it before your next trip?”

“Uh, I think I got a few months before that tournament in Japan. Maybe 3 or 4?” He quickly got out his phone and tapped on it for a bit. “Yeah, 3 months, it looks like.”

He looked up, slightly confused. “Why?”

Kris got up with the stacks of papers on her desk and placed them on top of the ones that he had set on the table. It made a plop as they hit the surface. “Valt, would you be interested in completing the recruitment process this year?”

Valt stared at the very thick pile of applications next to him for a few seconds with a blank expression, though for Kris, she could feel sweat accumulating by the minute. Suddenly though, a smile broke out on his face.

“Really?! I would love to!” His grin stretched from ear to ear while bouncing in his steps like a little kid. She let out her breath, and side-eyed the way that Valt’s eyes sparkled at the hundreds of paperwork. “Now remember the criteria, they must complete all three stages and show exceptional dedication and potential in each facet of blading. Identification must be shown, along with the specs of their bey to verify their qualification for official tournaments. Valt, are you getting this?”

The younger boy nodded, making a poor attempt at containing his excitement. Kris simply smiled and motioned for him to take the papers. He took it with no hesitation. “Alright. I’m trusting you. When you finished the first stage, hand me the list of qualified applicants.”

“Got it! I’ll do my best!” With that, he ran off, and Kris sat back in her chair with relief. Thank god that problem was solved. Now she could focus on her other duties, and no longer worry about it again.

~

A mere 2 days passed before Kris heard from Valt. She had just gotten back from a meeting when a knock came at the entrance of the office.

“Come in.”

Just as she began to unwind, she was met with yet again the same problem being put right in front of her, sitting between the papers.

“Valt. Why are there over 400 names written down? The selection should’ve been barely 100.” Her eyebrow was raised and skeptical as she glanced at the nervously smiling boy.

“There were so many amazing bladers Kris, you should’ve seen them! They all did so well, it was so hard to narrow it down!”

“You did this in 2 days, I doubt that 400 people were seriously considered.”

“C’mon, just give them a chance, please???”

Setting the papers aside, she looked up and exhaled. “It’s alright, we’ll just have to do the process again. Thank you for your time Valt.”

He pouted and left the room.

Silas

Kris sat in thought once again, and looked over the names that were written down. Of course Valt wouldn’t be able to choose, he was too nice. They needed someone a bit harsher. Someone like…

“I got it!” Kris yelled out loud to herself. Quickly typing a contact on her phone, she tapped call and waited for it to get through.

“Hello?”

“Silas, can you come to my office real quick?”

“I’m uh-I’m a little busy right now... hey!”

“Kris! Is that you?”

“…Hello, Cuza.”

“You wouldn’t believe what just happened, listen- HEY let go!!”

“Give me back my phone!”

“Nuh-Uh! You’ll have to catch me!”

“WHY you little-“

“BOYS!”

The other end quickly fell silent. She breathed in and spoke calmly.

“Silas, come to my office. Now.”

“Uh, sorry it’s still me. Hey Silas, Kris said-“

“I heard her, I’ll be right there, now hang up.”

“Alright! Hey Kris, Silas said-“

“I said hang up-!”

And with that the call ended. Even through her frustrated state, she couldn’t help but smile to herself. Why did she expect any different?

A while passed before Silas came. He was breathing weirdly, like he had just finished running, or perhaps chasing a certain someone. Instead of making a comment though, she simply motioned him to the chair in front of her desk and towards the papers before her.

“I need you to take care of the recruitment process.”

He ticked his tongue.

“Wasn’t that Valt’s job?”

“Yes, but as you can see, we decided that he wasn’t fit for it. I figured you’ll be able to choose wisely, wouldn’t you?”

Giving a smirk and propping up his glasses, Silas responded. “Of course I will. After all, BC Sol needs to the best of the best, so I’ll fit the job perfectly.”

At least he’s modest.

“Alright, but pick carefully. There needs to be 100 bladers for the next stage.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Perfect, you’re dismissed.”

~

Two names.

That’s it.

Two. Fucking. Names.

“Silas, what is this?”

The guy just looked up and nodded towards the paper.

“Hm? What you mean? It’s the bladers who passed.”

Kris could feel her knuckles grow white with the paper in her hand.

“Why- are there only two?”

“Oh, they were all hella weak. Didn’t even last a second in the stadium. I’m doing you a favor, really.” He said, rolling his eyes while doing so.

She took a deep breath. Calm and collected. Just be calm and collected.

“So only two didn’t?”

“Nah, they were weak too, but they talked good shit so they’re aight.”

Kris pinched the bridge of her nose. She needed a vacation. “Alright you’re dismissed, I’ll just get someone else.” With a huff, he left towards the door and quickly closed it shut, but not before a giggle could get through.

Back to the drawing board. Fuck.

Free

“Hey Free, do you mind-“

“No.”

Rantaro

Alright. Kris looked at the stack of papers for what felt like the hundredth time that week. She could’ve sworn it was taunting her.

So Valt couldn’t do it. Neither could Silas. Raul rejected the offer. Free declined before she could even ask. The deadline is coming up fast.

I swear to god, this will be the end of me-

“Yo, Kris!” The door opened to reveal Rantaro peering into the office. “Ange was looking for you, something about dinner and- uhh, you good there?”

Looking up with a flickering eye, she nodded with a constrained smile, practically feeling the nerve bulging on her forehead. “Of course, I’m perfectly fine! You know, I just got all this paperwork left to do and- hold on…”

Rantaro stared in confusion as Kris searched through the papers scattered over the table and floor, picking up a couple and leaving some in the ground to be slipped from later, her hair an absolute mess.

“Rantaro!” She exclaimed, going up to the taller boy hastily and dropping the papers in his hands. “How would you like to do the recruitment process this year?!”

He stayed quiet for a minute, letting the words soak in his head. “You-you want me to do it?!” His voice was high-pitched and like Valt, his eyes sparkled, thought this time it may be from tears. “Really…?”

“Absolutely! I know you’ll be a great fit. If anyone can, it’s you!” This time, it really looked like Rantaro was about to cry, but kept it in if only to look professional and put together.

“This is…This is such a big honor. I can’t believe I was the first person you thought of! I won’t disappoint!” She laughed nervously and patted him on his shoulder.

Yup, first person….

“I know you will. Now, tell Ange I’ll be right there.”

“Got it!” With that, he was off, practically skipping his way out of the office. Kris finally sat back on the couch. Please. Please let this one work.

~

To her surprise, Rantaro turned out to really be the perfect fit. After a week, he came back with the list, and it was 100 names to the dot. Still skeptical that this will really work out, she allowed him to move on the next stage, which should have an estimate of 20-30 spots.

He came back with 27 names.

By the time it was all over, he came back the names of the five bladers that made it through, and even provided notes on each one, with their strengths and noticeable qualities that made them stand out.

Really, she couldn’t have asked for a better person for the job. He even seemed content during it, happily helping the rookie bladers. But most of all, she felt relief, no longer having that stress hanging over her.

Of course, no one had the guts to tell Rantaro that he was, in fact, not the first person to be assigned the position. Well, Silas did, but Valt and Kit quickly shut him up before he could say anything.

So all well that ends well…

A few years later

“Hey Kris?” Cuza said. He was walking along the rail of the bleachers while the now-20-year-old manager was watching the practice arena, bustling with activity.

“Hm?” she responded distractedly.

“Aren’t the new recruits supposed to be coming soon?”

She looked at in confusion. “That’s Rantaro job, he’ll… oh.”

The realization hit her as soon as she opened her mouth. She put her head in her hands.

“Oh, don’t you remember, he’s working with the Comets-“

“Yes, I know, Cuza.”

The performer smiled and jumped down in display to land in front of benches, right where she was sitting. “Don’t worry, I can do it!”

That gave Kris a chuckle, looking up from her distress in amusement. “Really?”

“Yup! It’s just writing down names, sounds easy to me!”

Easy. Easy he says. Kris got up and trudged towards the door. “You know what, I’m going to get some air. Can you watch over the bladers for me?”

“Will do!” He bounced up and stood on the bench, carefully surveying the building. Kris didn’t bother telling him to get down.

I need a nap.

[lgbtq-history-museum-cfl-intern]

The Final Count Down

Sunday 11/26/2023

Technically I’m supposed to be on vacation until tomorrow, but I have some time on my hands and thoughts on my mind.

This is the last day of classes and I’m working on some final assignments: The last touches on a research paper for the capstone course for my Interdisciplinary Studies major, a PowerPoint for the Hands-on History Internship Showcase on Friday, and a reflection on my service-learning hours with the LGBTQ History Museum of Central Florida – again, for capstone.

All I can think about is graduation! I’m so close, I can feel the end nearing!

My nerves are finally dissolving, leaving me with anxious anticipation, and a bit of “senioritis” as I chug through these final tasks.

Once the semester ends, this internship will fulfill the last course credits that I need – pending the History Department’s substitution – to complete my history minor.

Even though UCF has an Interdisciplinary Studies Master’s Program, I’m looking forward to turning in my application for the Public History Master’s Program by the priority deadline (January 15th). I aim to start my degree in the Fall of 2024 and, after learning about another student’s experience from Rollins’ Archival staff, I plan to take one seminar course at a time.

The only exception would be if I’m accepted into the Summer Research Program at UCF, allowing me to earn 6 credits the summer before.

This plan to take things slow is to hopefully avoid burnout and allow me to work with plenty of thought, care, and attention to my master’s degree. I’d also like to have time and energy to dedicate to internships and other forms of hands-on learning experiences like volunteering – maybe even a job that provides opportunities to expand skills that are relevant to public history professions.

Thursday 11/30/2023

Tomorrow is presentation day and I’m first up on the schedule (thank goodness! I’ll get to just sit and listen to everyone else’s experiences for the rest of the time!)

I’m literally functioning on meeting and due dates:

Tomorrow is the Hands-On History Showcase.

Sunday, all of my Capstone Assignments are due.

The following Friday, my final is due.

Then the Friday after that is graduation.

After that, I have about a month until the priority deadline for applications for the Public History Master’s Program at UCF.

That’s as far out as I can think right now.

I’m full of excitement and anxiety, but I’m also hopeful and optimistic!

Most of all, I am grateful, and I plan to spend some time throughout the following weeks communicating that to the mentors who positively impacted my undergraduate journey – pretty much all of them. (I was wondering if I was going to get sentimental leading up to graduation and, finally, here I am typing through calm tears as I reminisce on how lucky I am to have so many wonderful people to reach out to with gratitude.)

I’m glad this is how I chose to spend my final semester. Earlier this year, I was thrown off my path and I was heartbroken trying to piece together a new plan that accommodated my limited capacities as a student living with disabilities.

Now, two weeks from graduation, I stand firmer and more confident in my plans, goals, and desires.

Thank you to the wonderful faculty, staff, and peers who taught me so much along the way! Without their support, I would not have accomplished all that I have throughout my undergraduate career.

See you next Fall as a master’s student! (fingers-crossed)

Friday 12/01/2023

The showcase just ended and that just about wraps up the semester for me!

Everyone else had some incredibly enriching experiences and it was cool to see someone else who participated in the HerStory: Women in History Internship at the Orange County Regional History Center.

It seems the structure of it has come a long way, allowing her to accomplish so much more hands-on work than I had during my time there!

There was a lot of diversity in the projects everyone worked on, so I also learned other ways of being a public historian and doing public history work.

Hopefully, when I enter the Public History Master’s Program at UCF I’ll get to work alongside some of these wonderfully talented individuals!

Thanks for following my journey!

- Marena

[delightfulmysteries]

"In the autumn of 1835, having been cheated out of the previous summer's earnings, by the captain of the steamer in which I had been employed running away with the money, I was, like the rest of the men, left without any means of support during the winter, and therefore had to seek employment in the neighbouring towns. I went to the town of Monroe, in the state of Michigan, and while going through the principal streets looking for work, I passed the door of the only barber in the town, whose shop appeared to be filled with persons waiting to be shaved. As there was but one man at work, and as I had, while employed in the steamer, occasionally shaved a gentleman who could not perform that office himself, it occurred to me that I might get employment here as a journeyman barber. I therefore made immediate application for work, but the barber told me he did not need a hand. But I was not to be put off so easily, and after making several offers to work cheap, I frankly told him, that if he would not employ me I would get a room near to him, and set up an opposition establishment. This threat, however, made no impression on the barber; and as I was leaving, one of the men who were waiting to be shaved said, "If you want a room in which to commence business, I have one on the opposite side of the street." This man followed me out; we went over, and I looked at the room. He strongly urged me to set up, at the same time promising to give me his influence. I took the room, purchased an old table, two chairs, got a pole with a red stripe painted around it, and the next day opened, with a sign over the door, "Fashionable Hair-dresser from New York, Emperor of the West." I need not add that my enterprise was very annoying to the "shop over the way"—especially my sign, which happened to be the most expensive part of the concern. Of course, I had to tell all who came in that my neighbour on the opposite side did not keep clean towels, that his razors were dull, and, above all, he had never been to New York to see the fashions. Neither had I. In a few weeks I had the entire business of the town, to the great discomfiture of the other barber.

At this time, money matters in the Western States were in a sad condition. Any person who could raise a small amount of money was permitted to establish a bank, and allowed to issue notes for four times the sum raised. This being the case, many persons borrowed money merely long enough to exhibit to the bank inspectors, and the borrowed money was returned, and the bank left without a dollar in its vaults, if, indeed, it had a vault about its premises. The result was, that banks were started all over the Western States, and the country flooded with worthless paper. These were known as the "Wild Cat Banks." Silver coin being very scarce, and the banks not being allowed to issue notes for a smaller amount than one dollar, several persons put out notes from 6 to 75 cents in value; these were called "Shinplasters." The Shinplaster was in the shape of a promissory note, made payable on demand. I have often seen persons with large rolls of these bills, the whole not amounting to more than five dollars. Some weeks after I had commenced business on my "own hook," I was one evening very much crowded with customers; and while they were talking over the events of the day, one of them said to me, "Emperor, you seem to be doing a thriving business. You should do as other business men, issue your Shinplasters." This, of course, as it was intended, created a laugh; but with me it was no laughing matter, for from that moment I began to think seriously of becoming a banker. I accordingly went a few days after to a printer, and he, wishing to get the job of printing, urged me to put out my notes, and showed me some specimens of engravings that he had just received from Detroit. My head being already filled with the idea of a bank, I needed but little persuasion to set the thing finally afloat. Before I left the printer the notes were partly in type, and I studying how I should keep the public from counterfeiting them. The next day my Shinplasters were handed to me, the whole amount being twenty dollars, and after being duly signed were ready for circulation. At first my notes did not take well; they were too new, and viewed with a suspicious eye. But through the assistance of my customers, and a good deal of exertion on my own part, my bills were soon in circulation; and nearly all the money received in return for my notes was spent in fitting up and decorating my shop.

Few bankers get through this world without their difficulties, and I was not to be an exception. A short time after my money had been out, a party of young men, either wishing to pull down my vanity, or to try the soundness of my bank, determined to give it "a run." After collecting together a number of my bills, they came one at a time to demand other money for them, and I, not being aware of what was going on, was taken by surprise. One day as I was sitting at my table, strapping some new razors I had just got with the avails of my "Shinplasters," one of the men entered and said, "Emperor, you will oblige me if you will give me some other money for these notes of yours." I immediately cashed the notes with the most worthless of the Wild Cat money that I had on hand, but which was a lawful tender. The young man had scarcely left when a second appeared with a similar amount, and demanded payment. These were cashed, and soon a third came with his roll of notes. I paid these with an air of triumph, although I had but half a dollar left. I began now to think seriously what I should do, or how to act, provided another demand should be made. While I was thus engaged in thought, I saw the fourth man crossing the street, with a handful of notes, evidently my "Shinplasters." I instantaneously shut the door, and looking out of the window, said, "I have closed business for the day: come to-morrow and I will see you." In looking across the street, I saw my rival standing in his shop-door, grinning and clapping his hands at my apparent downfall. I was completely "done Brown" for the day. However, I was not to be "used up" in this way; so I escaped by the back door, and went in search of my friend who had first suggested to me the idea of issuing notes. I found him, told him of the difficulty I was in, and wished him to point out a way by which I might extricate myself. He laughed heartily, and then said, "You must act as all bankers do in this part of the country." I inquired how they did, and he said, "When your notes are brought to you, you must redeem them, and then send them out and get other money for them; and, with the latter, you can keep cashing your own Shinplasters." This was indeed a new job to me. I immediately commenced putting in circulation the notes which I had just redeemed, and my efforts were crowned with so much success, that before I slept that night my "Shinplasters" were again in circulation, and my bank once more on a sound basis.

As I saw the clerks shovelling out the yellow coin upon the counters of the Bank of England, and men coming in and going out with weighty bags of the precious metal in their hands, or on their shoulders, I could not but think of the great contrast between the monster Institution, within whose walls I was then standing, and the Wild Cat Banks of America!" - William Wells Brown, The American Fugitive in Europe

Long post, sorry.

[andreafmn]

Collision - Chapter 4

Word Count: 3,821

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 4/?

A/N: Don’t know if I ever mentioned it, but the story takes place before New Moon but after Twilight. It starts at the end of May after the dance, so it’d be the summer before Bella’s birthday in September. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

TikTok • Instagram • Business

<- Previous | Next ->

Chapter 4

The next time she awoke she was back in sight of the blinding hospital lights. Her head was heavily pounding and the clothes on her body felt alien to her. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the white lights of the sanitized room, but they were suddenly off.

“Back again, Miss Uley?” She recognized the voice, Dr. Cullen. “I’ve already turned the lights off so don’t worry about that.”

Her eyes finally opened to reveal the smooth pale face of the doctor. A wave of calmness rushed over her as soon as her eyes connected with his golden ones.

“What can I say?” She chuckled. “I just couldn’t stay away.”

“Well, it seems you’ve been having a recurring headache, insomnia, memory lapses, and a lack of appetite. It looks like post-concussive syndrome. Your mom told us you were feeling like this for a few days, why didn’t you come back?” Carlisle questioned. He was trying his best to look like he was breathing but if he took even a single breath all his years of self-control would be over in an instant.

“I thought if I could just make it to at least seven days it could clear me from coming back to the hospital, at least as a patient.”

“What do you mean?” This comment had perked the interest of the man. Thoughts raced through his head faster than he could analyze them.

“I was thinking of applying for a medical assistant job here in the hospital. I recently got my degree in biology, and I’ve been thinking of going to medical school after.”

“That sounds like a plan, but let’s work on getting you better first.” It did sound like a good plan to Carlisle. He wanted to be as close as possible to her every single day, but it also meant he would have to work triple as hard to control his thirst. “We’d like to keep you for the next few days and make sure you’re in good health before you can go back to business as usual.”

“How long would a few days be?”

“About four to five days, just to make sure that the symptoms don’t worsen, and we can give you an all-clear.” It would also give him a few days to grow accustomed to her smell. “We can work over that application for medical assistant, make sure it’s something you want to do.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” She smiled at the man in front of her, her heart fluttering with every breath she took. “Thank you, Dr. Cullen.”

“Please, call me Carlisle,” he smiled. “Now, why don’t you continue resting, and whatever you need just call. My office is right down the hall, I’ll be here in no time.”

The girl stared at the retreating form of his body and covered the heat that was rising to her face with her pillow. The butterflies in her stomach had made her uneasy and had her hands shaking. She didn’t understand why she was feeling this way. It had only been a week since her first encounter with the doctor, but those few seconds were enough to have her drooling over the man like a lovesick schoolgirl.

A few days had come and gone quickly. (Y/N) had grown attached to Carlisle, seeing and talking to him every day had felt like a dream. In his free time, she would go over to his office and pick a book to read, which they talked about the next day. They spent hours talking about nothing and everything.

It had been a long time since Carlisle had felt this way, centuries. Being around her had gotten easier each day that passed. Her smell becoming comforting instead of a trigger to the endless hunger for human blood – he’d never had a simple drop of it, but nothing could explain how much he wanted to have hers. Getting to know her had been a welcomed activity by the young doctor. He could spend days upon days listening to the sweet sound of her voice, admiring her curious-filled face when she started a new book – which she read swiftly, taking only a couple of hours to finish most of them.

“Can’t believe you have so many first editions, and you leave them at work.” She ran her hand across the spine of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment. “I would keep them in a well-preserved chamber, and no one would be able to even breathe on them.”

Carlisle smiled as the girl gawked once again at his book collection. It wasn’t hard to acquire first edition novels when you were alive when they were published. “If you’re impressed by this collection, you’d be completely astonished by the one I have back home.”

“You have more?!” He nodded. The girl shined like a kid on Christmas, her eyes gleaming at the thought of a big library. “Oh, that sounds like a dream.”

“You’re more than welcome to come over any time. It’s always refreshing to meet a literature aficionado such as myself.”

“Really? That’d be amazing!” She grinned brightly. “I could spend all day reading, forget about work.”

The duo laughed. “Too late to withdraw the application but you’re always welcome to pass your downtime in my office.”

“Sounds like a plan,’’ she smiled. “Now, doctor, what will you ever do now that I’m not going to be here every day?”

“Oh, how will I ever go on?” He chuckled. “But if you ever need help during that time, just come by. My office is always open. And hopefully, you’ll visit from time to time on personal time.”

“I’m sure it’s something that can be arranged.”

If there was still blood rushing through his veins, the capillaries in his face would have widened. He felt like he now understood Edward; how being with her made him feel human again. And there was nothing more that he wanted than to take their friendship to another level, but he wasn’t sure if she would ever feel the same. Carlisle knew that she was unaware of the supernatural since (Y/N) had allowed him to be in her life. But what would happen once she knew everything? How could he ever come between her and her family?

“Miss Uley, your mother is here,” a nurse spoke up, peeking her head through the office door. “Discharge papers have already been filed.”

“Thank you, Nurse Dalen. She’ll be out in a moment.” Carlisle smiled.

“Well, the time has come.” (Y/N) took her phone out of her back pocket and handed it to the doctor. He looked at her with a question-ridden gaze. “I’m gonna need your phone number so we can arrange any future endeavors.”

“Right,” he laughed, typing his number into her directory. “I’ll be waiting for that call.”

“I’ll be making it soon enough,” she grinned. “I’m gonna go now. I’ll see you around, Cullen.”

“I’ll see you, Uley.”

She left the office with a huge smile on her face, holding her phone close to her chest. For the first time, she was experiencing something she had heard of most of her teenage years. Once she had met Carlisle all she wanted to do was get to know him better, spend her time with him, just being near him would suffice. It was the first time she was learning what falling for someone was, and even though it was scary, she was jumping in headfirst.

“Hi, honey. Ready to go home?” Allison hugged her daughter for the first time in five days. (Y/N) nodded, truly ready to finally sleep on her own bed.

“So, how are you liking Dr. Cullen?”

“MOM!” Allison laughed at her daughter’s reaction. It was easy to see that (Y/N) had taken a liking to Carlisle Cullen, and vice versa.

“What, darling? If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck.”

“It’s not like that, mom.”

“But you’d like it to be like that.”

“I’m not talking about that with my mother.” (Y/N) placed her cold hands on her cheeks, trying to cool down the warm blood that had rushed onto her cheeks. The cool air of the car’s A/C was only helping her so much.

“I just want you to be careful with that, honey. He’s older than you, technically has kids, and rumor has it he is married.”

A breath hitched in her throat. Married? She knew he had adopted five kids, most of them her age, but not that he was married. Had she read the situation wrong? He didn’t wear a ring, he didn’t mention any relationship, he had no pictures of a woman in his office. Then again, they had only spent five days together at the hospital. She didn’t know what he did when he went home at night, who he went home to at night. (Y/N) shouldn’t feel betrayed—they weren’t anything, and they weren’t on track to become anything.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’ve just been picking his brain about working in the hospital, and he’s been helping me with what I’m gonna be doing this summer.”

“Oh, have you decided what you want to do?”

“I’m gonna get my medical assistant certification. It’s a three-month course then I can work at the hospital.”

“That’s great, honey.” Allison smiled at her daughter from the driver’s side. “Is that where you’d see yourself making a career?”

“Not sure. I want to take this time to see if life in a hospital is truly where I’d like to work – see if medical school would be it for me.”

(Y/N) hadn’t taken the time to focus on her future. In her high school career, she spent her time focusing on the present and piling on as much as she could, and now she had no sense of direction. She would take every day as it came, hoping one day she would find her purpose.

Finally, back home, she hopped off the truck and stretched out her limbs, stiff from the days on a hospital bed. Taking a deep breath of fresh air and basking in the afternoon sun. The cold that had seeped into her bones from the hospital melted off, and she smiled feeling the warmth surround her.

“Why don’t you go upstairs, honey?” Allison told her daughter. “There’s a surprise waiting for you in your room.”

(Y/N) smiled and quickly made her way up the stairs to see what her mom meant. Opening the door, tears forming in her eyes. Her room had done a 180-degree turn. The walls had been painted a light beige color, and plants hung from the walls bringing warmth to the room. The bed was adorned with a white cover, and a fluffy duvet to keep her warm at night. A wooden frame sat atop the bed dressed in white linen and ivy vines. A bookcase lived in the corner of her room, filled to the brim with her collection of hardbacks and peppered with potted plants. Opposite the bed was a small desk with a dark green suede chair, her laptop set up in the workspace. Her room finally felt like hers.

“Do you like it, honey?”

“Mom, did you do this?”

“I wish I could take credit, but your brother and your friend Paul came over when I was at work and redecorated. I was actually surprised that they even came over.”

“I’ll have to thank them,” (Y/N) grinned. Even though their relationship was strained at the moment, and she had yet to see Paul since coming back, she was glad that they had taken time out of their days to do this for her. “I’ll go over to Sam’s house for a bit, maybe now he’ll have time to see me.”

“Why don’t you go tomorrow, honey? You should take it easy.”

“I feel a lot better, mom. You don’t have to worry too much.”

“I’m your mother, I’ll always worry. If you’re gonna go out, go see Jacob. He was really worried about you.”

“I will.”

(Y/N) kissed her mother’s cheek and grabbed her bag to head out. Her first stop was to the Black residence. Jacob saw her coming down the street and ran out to wrap her in a hug. When she collapsed last week, he had been very concerned when she collapsed in his garage. Jacob was glad that she had made a full recovery and was now back home, with minimum side effects showing. The visit was short, only a quick hello to ensure the boy that she was okay.

After spending some time with Jacob, she walked towards Sam’s house – she hoped to catch Paul there too since she had heard he now spent his time there alongside Jared Cameron. It hadn’t clicked in her head why Paul would ever hang out with her brother and Jared. Even when they were back in middle school, he never paid them any mind, having a separate friend group. She had only become his friend by spending time with him away from school, and her brother had always disliked them together, claiming he was a bad influence.

Outside of the small house, (Y/N) could hear the low chatter of manly voices, a higher-pitched one joining after. There was no mistaking that Sam was home. She started feeling nervous as she raised her hand to knock on the door. The shaky limb was able to make contact with the blue door twice before it opened wide open, revealing a shirtless Paul Lahote.

“(Y/N)?” He questioned. Paul knew she was back, but Sam had given him clear instructions to stay away from her due to their situation.

“Hey, Paul. Long time no see, huh?” The girl smiled at her friend that now towered over her. A few years ago, they were still of the same stature, but too much time had passed since then. She went in for a hug, and Paul cut it short – worried she might note his burning temperature. “Is Sam home?”

“Uh, yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, turning towards the kitchen. “Sam! (Y/N)’s here.”

The older male appeared in front of them, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Hey, (Y/N). Good to see you’re doing better. What brings you around?”

“I just wanted to thank you both for what you did in my room. Mom told me you worked on it while we were away. It’s a dream.” Sam smiled at his younger sister and shared a hug with the smaller girl.

“I’m glad you liked it, (Y/N). We wanted to give you a place where you could rest better after the accident. It’s the least we could do.” The alpha could hear the duo that was left in the kitchen had grown curious about who was at the door. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”

“Are you really inviting me in?” (Y/N) was taken aback – the last thing she thought was that she would get that invitation.

“Yeah, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Sam responded, keeping his doubts of the encounter to himself.

(Y/N) walked through the threshold and instantly felt the warm aura that emanated from inside of the house. It was a welcoming environment that she had grown to love from her own mother’s house. She walked behind Sam, Paul following behind them. `There was nothing that could prepare her to the sight she was met with.

In front of her stood a beautiful woman. She had tan skin, long black hair, and a beautiful smile. But there was something that stood out to her, something she was sure stood out to everyone – three long gashes ran through the front of her face. Yet, they didn’t distract from the alluring atmosphere that surrounded her. Sam moved to her side, and (Y/N) quickly connected the dots and figured that was Emily Young. The Uley girl wanted to be indifferent to her presence, knowing how one of her friends had been hurt by the union in front of her, she couldn’t help but note the love that radiated from the pair. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother as happy as he looked as he stared at his fiancé.

“(Y/N), it’s an honor to finally meet you.” Emily stretched out her hand towards the girl, which (Y/N) gladly took. “Sam has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” (Y/N) joked. “Hopefully, we’ll have a chance to get to know each other more. I’d love to get to know the woman my brother is set to marry.”

“I’m sure we’ll have enough time now that you’re back.” Emily smiled and grabbed a basket filled with muffins, offering them to the girl. (Y/N) gladly took the baked good in her hand, picking at it and placing the piece in her mouth – a wonderful taste that quickly melted in her mouth. “You’re welcome over any time. Any family of Sam is family to me.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’ll be sure to take you up on that.”

Not much time passed before Sam had cut the meeting short, claiming there was something important the duo had to do. “We should do this another time, (Y/N). Paul and I have to go.”

“Go where?” (Y/N) questioned. “It’s already night, not much to do.”

“I can’t really tell you, sis. But it’s important.”

“So still guarding secrets?” Sam shrugged. “It’s fine, Sam. I’m growing used to it.”

“(Y/N)…”

“I can take a hint, Sam. I know when I’m not wanted,” (Y/N) smiled. “Thank you for the muffins, Emily. They were divine. I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer and visit sometime soon.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I’m sorry we had to cut this short.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you guys.” (Y/N) took her bag and exited the house. She was confused on why Sam had welcomed her in only to have her leave soon after – there was something big he was hiding, and she needed to find out what it was.

“(Y/N), wait up!” Paul jogged up to her, turning her around. “Look, I hope you understand that we’re not trying to push you away on purpose. There are things that Sam is protecting you from.”

“Like what, Paul? What danger could possibly be surrounding us that he would stray from his family?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s not my place to tell you, (Y/N). As much as I hate keeping this from you, Sam would not allow it to come from anyone but himself.”

“Are you serious? What kind of power does he have over you?”

“PAUL!” Sam shouted, gaining the attention of his beta. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I hope one day you’ll forgive us.” Paul kissed her forehead and went to meet up with his alpha.

(Y/N) stood still as she watched their bodies disappear into the woods. She debated whether to follow them for a brief second, but she was exhausted. She left back home with a million questions running through her head. The pair of Sam and Paul was a strange view, and she was determined to get to the bottom of things.

When she got home, (Y/N) noticed her mother asleep on the couch, the tv in front of her still playing. The years that passed were clear on her face, the worry that she carried for both her children plastered in the lines of her face. She could see the exhaustion that she held, years of caring for two kids by herself taking a toll on her. (Y/N) grabbed a blanket and laid it on top of her mother’s body, making sure that she was warm during the night. She left a kiss on her cheek, thankful for everything her mother had sacrificed for her.

After showering the day off, (Y/N) changed into her pajamas and laid in bed staring at her phone’s screen. She thought if she stared at it long enough a message would magically pop up. Minutes passed and her phone kept silent, not a single notification appearing on the screen. She scrolled through her directory until it landed on the newest listing. Carlisle Cullen, it read. Her finger clicked on it and selected new message.

Her fingers danced atop the keyboard of her phone, no words coming to her mind to send to the doctor. Should she even send him a message? What if he truly was married? She would never want to come between a couple. But her fingers did not follow her thought train. Unconsciously, they started typing away a message and before she could analyze her actions, she sent the message.

Hi, Carlisle. It’s (Y/N). I made it home okay and don’t have any symptoms, seems like you fixed me up! Anyways, wanted to know if you possibly had some free time this weekend to join me for some dinner at La Bella Italia. Hope you had a good rest of the day at work!

Her jaw fell when her screen read message sent. There was no way to delete it now. It was out there, and it would make its way to his phone. (Y/N)’s head fell onto her pillow and muffled a scream that escaped from her throat. This feeling was alien to her, and she was learning what steps to take to grow closer to the astonishing man. Minutes felt like an eternity to (Y/N), thinking that she had imploded the friendship she had built with the man over the past week.

Beep.

The sound from her phone caught her attention. She scrambled for her phone and quietly shrieked at the words on her screen.

Hello, (Y/N). I’m glad you’re feeling better, hopefully, no symptoms will arise once more. And I did have a good day at work, although I missed our afternoon book chats. I have a free day on Sunday. Tell me a time and I can meet you in Port Angeles. Hope that day is good for you.

“He said yes. If he were actually married, he wouldn’t have said yes,” she thought.

So, she typed back.

I’m glad you had a good day, and the book chats have an easy fix. I’m just a phone call away. As for Sunday, it’s a perfect day. I think around 5:30 would be a good time for dinner. Let me know if it works.

Sent.

Seconds later, another beep.

I’ll make sure to schedule those calls then. 5:30 sounds perfect. I’ll see you there. Have a good night, (Y/N).

See you then, Carlisle. Good night. 😊

(Y/N) smiled at her phone, joy wanting to burst from her body. She was reveling in this new feeling and the happiness it brought her. If it was Carlisle, it was worth it, she believed.

That night she went to sleep with the biggest smile she had experienced in her life. Unbeknownst to the life-changing moments that were to follow this meeting.

Tag List: @daniallh @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @imaginetwilight2704 @jessicas-undrground @hey-you-therexo @mauvette268 @mxyee @beefwhobarksandisalilmadalot

[mallowstep]

(nature; nurture)

You know the truth of yourself in pieces.

* * *

You are three, sitting on your mother's lap.

"And you understand this is a life-long commitment?"

"Yes," she says.

"And Mothkit, Frogkit, and Hawkkit, do you want Feathertail to be your mother?"

"She is our mama," Hawkkit says, and the woman laughs.

"That settles it, then."

* * *

Growing up is not a balloon inflating, the way you once pictured it. It is a crab moulting over and over again, exposing its softest parts, in hopes it survives.

* * *

You are the first to go to kindergarten. Only by a few minutes, but still. That feels like it counts for something.

You kiss your mother's cheek, and then drop your bag. A man crouches down beside you. "And what's your name?"

"Mothkit!" you say, and he shows you where to put your bag. You glance back at your mother as you venture deeper into the classroom. She wipes a few tears from her eyes.

* * *

Unlike a crab, you cannot reabsorb what you lose. Your teeth are collected in a box, exchanged for a few quarters, occasionally a dollar. Your hair is swept up and thrown away. You go shopping, and now there are two sections you have to examine. One for you, one for your brothers.

* * *

Stormheart picks you up for school, and no one is waiting in the passenger seat. You all climb in, and you end up stuck in the middle.

"Where's Mama?" you ask.

"She's at home," Stormheart says. He glances back at you for a second, smiling. "She's just having a bad day."

You kick off your shoes at the door when you get home, dropping your bag on the kitchen table. Your brothers are slower, but you peek through the crack in her door before Stormheart catches up with you.

She's asleep, not facing you. Mistyfoot is on the other side of the bed, reading a book.

Stormheart scoops you up. "Come on, bug," he whispers. "Let's go play outside."

* * *

But your soft parts stay the same, just growing between each exchange. You ask her about your father many times, and her answers drift, circling around a truth you want her to finish. You slip into her room after having a nightmare, and find her sobbing. You make a family tree, and stare frustrated at the missing names.

* * *

You follow her out to the garden. Frogpaw spends more time out here than you do, but you're bored, and your mother is here, digging tiny troughs into the earth.

You cross your legs on the grass beside her. She smiles at you. "Are you going to stay out here?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want a hat?"

"No." The sun is warm, and you lean down, your elbows pressing into the dirt. "What are you planting?"

"Poppies," she says. "Do you want to help?"

You shake your head. Feathertail takes a handful of sandy dirt, and pours the bag of seeds onto it.

"Mama?" you ask, and she lifts her brow. "What's assault?"

Feathertail pauses what she's doing, and looks questioningly at you. "Where'd you hear that?"

"It was on a TV show." You fidget with blades of grass. "I wasn't really watching."

Feathertail sighs. "It's -- when you hurt someone," she says. "When you attack them."

* * *

But you are not a crab. You are a girl, and you are changing. Your father sends you a letter and asks you if you're a help to your mother. You grapple with the undeniable proof he's in prison, like she explained a year or two ago. You shoot up past your brothers over the summer, and have to buy new clothes. A new garment comes with it. Feathertail cleans a few things out of a room you can't think of as hers, and it becomes yours. Your soft parts move, find new places in need of protection.

* * *

Sometimes, you want to explain everything to Leafpaw, all in one breath. You want to say, My mother didn't give birth to me, but I know who did, and I was not wanted, except that I was, and my father believes I am capable of nothing, and my period has started, and I don't know what that means, and I think you are beautiful.

You don't say any of that.

* * *

But you are not a crab, so you find traces of your past exoskeletons, the ones that didn't fit. A shirt you wore five years ago. A diary you can barely understand. A folded piece of paper you do not open. They don't make sense with who you are, and yet, they are who you were.

* * *

Shadepelt teaches you how to use make up. Feathertail and Mistyfoot don't wear any, but she does, and she makes it look easy and fun and flawless.

It's much harder when you have to do it.

Hawkpaw and Stonefur arrive home when you are scrubbing it off in the bathroom downstairs. You don't come down here very often, and it is strange to think that this space is a part of your home.

When your face is clean, you trudge upstairs. The air is tense, Hawkpaw and Frogpaw staring across the kitchen table at each other, Feathertail watching them.

"I'm -- allowed to know," Hawkpaw says.

"What do you want to know?" Frogpaw says. "We know everything we need to."

"Maybe you do," Hawkpaw says.

You glance at Feathertail. Her back is to you.

You slide unnoticed into your room, and pull out the stack of letters from your father. You read them all once, exactly, and then add them to the stack you keep in your bottom desk drawer. There's no point in rereading them.

But you run your thumb over them, listening to the way the old, dried paper crinkles.

Frogpaw is asking the wrong question. It's why Hawkpaw wants to know that matters.

* * *

Freshman year draws to a close, and you think you are in your final moult. Leafpaw falls asleep on your shoulder on the way home from a field trip, and you hold hands as you wait to be picked up. You haven't outgrown any clothes in months, and your brothers are now taller than you. You look in the mirror, and realize this will always be the face that looks back at you.

* * *

There is always talk. You try to ignore the worst of it,

("Well, Hawkpaw is a creep," and, "I heard their mother doesn't love them," and, "Bet you can't wait to see your daddy,")

but that's easier said then done.

Leafpaw squeezes your hand. "They don't know what they're talking about," she says.

But they do. That's the problem. They're wrong, but they know what they're talking about.

A junior Mothpaw doesn't know sits beside her at lunch, in Leafpaw's space.

"You should move," Squirrelpaw says.

"No one's sitting here."

"Someone will be."

True to form, as soon as Leafpaw bursts into the cafeteria, she forces herself between Mothpaw and the junior.

The junior rolls her eyes. "I was wondering," she begins, "how you feel about the death penalty."

* * *

There are still old memories you revisit. Feathertail is hospitalized for the third time you can remember, and you log your hours for drivers' ed as you practice making the trip back and forth.

* * *

On Halloween, you take the bucket of candy Feathertail gave the three of you to share and sit on the back porch. Frogpaw and Hawkpaw keep stuffing their faces long after you've finished, and you feel like you're witnessing something obscene.

"I did some math," Frogpaw says. "We were born a month early." He throws a candy bar up, and it lands on his stomach. "Means we were conceived around New Years."

He throws the bar up again, and this time it lands in his hands.

"You ever want to throw a party? Just one. Make a bunch of food for dinner and sit around the table and call all the different dishes courses?"

"What the hell are you saying?" Hawkpaw asks.

"I think i'm just saying something," Frogpaw says. "I think I'm just hoping if I say enough things, I'll find the right thing to say.

* * *

You get your license. It says your name on the card, Mothpaw, daughter of Feathertail, and ask for permission to drive the car.

You don't have a plan for where you're going, and you end up in front of a cathedral.

* * *

The stress of junior year threatens to break you. College applications loom, your classes grow teeth, and you start to bicker with Leafpaw over petty things.

You read over the essay requirement for colleges, and think about what kind of essay you could write. Because there's really only one story worth telling, and it feels wrong, to type out all of your family to a stranger.

It makes you glad you started early. "My mother was fourteen when we were born," you write, and then scratch out. "My father is alive. We know who the other is. I've never met him," you write, and then erase. "I don't know who I am," you write, and then you keep writing.

* * *

At some point, you decide you don't believe. But. You keep coming back. There is something reassuring in routine. Your family doesn't ask where you are going, and you don't volunteer it. Sunday morning. There's some kind of peace, in having the time to sit and think and be.

* * *

"I think I've messed everything up," Leafpaw says. "I've gone about this all the wrong way, and now, everything is terrible, and this is all my fault, Mothpaw, I'm sorry-"

You kiss her, and then lean your forehead against hers. "We're both at fault," you say. "Besides. Maybe the honeymoon is over. We've got lives to attend."

And Leafpaw, inextricably, is part of that life. You can think of the essays you would've written about her. How her hair looks brown until it catches the sun, and then it shines like red glass. How she stomps when she is excited. How she links arms with you and says you're going shopping until you find your family Christmas gifts.

* * *

They invite you to a class, but it feels strange, knowing you don't believe. How do you say, I am here, and I am not, and I don't think you'd really want me.

You don't. You kneel down and offer a prayer to a god you don't believe in. Maybe it will catch.

* * *

Feathertail listens to you practice your speech.

"I'm so proud of you," she says. "You know that, right?"

You nod. She tells you this often, but something about her tone makes your throat catch. You've outgrown the days when Feathertail's arms could surround you, but even so, you start to cry when she hugs you.

"I love you," you say.

"I love you too," she says. She settles back onto the couch, wrapping her hands around a mug of tea.

This is the truth of who you are. This is what you will always fail to capture. How can you describe how the light streams inside at an angle that you've always known, one that makes the dust swirl through it? How can you describe the books on the coffee table, how each book has been read and loved, not merely thrown there for decoration? How can you describe yourself in any way but being there?

* * *

You meet your father's eyes. You know them. You have seen them in the mirror.

* * *

You hold your diploma in one hand, stopping for a photo. You were the first to enter kindergarten, you were the last to leave high school.

The excited chatter in the air is a reminder of what this day is. You have all bought your final yearbooks, signed names and numbers you won't remember in a few months. You're in it a few times -- Feathertail and Leafpaw delighted in hunting for your every appearance -- and you think, maybe it is okay if you are pieces.

There is something whole and solid that is made of them.

[iconic-ponytail]

there's always money in the banana stand

riverdale promptathon week 3: yellow + business

Even as the sun sets, even as the breeze blows, the hell furnace of July in Riverdale burns on. It’s triply as sweltering inside the tiny booth running three freezers, offloading heat to sustain the frozen merchandise inside. “How can it be so hot in there when we are supposed to be selling frozen bananas?” JB complains, at least twice a week.

She’s twelve. Complaint is her new first language. She complains about being left in Riverdale while Gladys went back to Toledo. She complains about living in a trailer park that usually does not have warm water. She complains about their father being imprisoned for covering up a gruesome murder. But most of all, she complains about working in the banana stand.

Child labor laws aside, Jughead can’t blame her for that one. He hates the damn banana stand, but it’s their best shot.

Gladys’ monthly check covers rent and utilities for the trailer. Everything else is on him, now. The idiot eighteen year old who decided to petition the court to be his sister’s legal guardian. Well, and his idiot mom who signed off on it. So he needs money, and the Jones family has never been particularly flush with cash, just trampled over by FP’s failed “business opportunities.”

Enter: the banana stand.

It’s not the fastest revenue stream, Jughead finds. But it’s got potential.

Initially, Dilton doesn’t let him sell during the Twilight Drive-In’s concession stand hours. Before or after the movie, sure, but no overlap. “I’m not worried about competition, Jones. It’s just too humiliating for me to watch you sweat through that horrible yellow polo you call ‘branding.’”

But when customers asked him more than twice a night when the banana stand would be open, Dilton caved.

It’s not like being open during the screening hours is a whole lot more preferable. He only just transferred from Southside to Riverdale High last spring; now he’s the rising senior who hands out phallic symbols from inside a giant phallic symbol. Not exactly a boon to his popularity.

Still, recently the money is enough to pay the internet bill and keep JB fed for dinner when she can’t go to the summer breakfast and lunch program at the local park district. It’s still not enough for him to eat particularly well, and the smell of hot dogs and slurp of his classmates’ slushies makes the heat feel like a minor inconvenience.

He eyes the tip jar, willing himself to wait on rampaging the concession stand until the beginning of the film roar dies down. It’s a double feature tonight, which means maybe he can score enough cash to cover those damn college application fees his counselor will start hounding him about week one of school.

Then he sees her—Betty Cooper. She’s laughing, watching Archie Andrews try to catch popcorn in his mouth, tossed by his paramour, Veronica Lodge. She pauses to sip from her slushie straw, her lips—which he’s watched argue against homophobic and racist comments in their advanced lit class, or pressed to the cheek of her other best friend, Kevin Keller. Which he’s imagined, doing slightly less savory things, though the mere thought of said imagining has his heart pounding wildly.

(Jughead’s been eating way too many fucking bananas. Someone needs to check his potassium levels.)

His absolutely pathetic gaze, once available three times a day in their shared classes where Jughead has still not managed to exert any confidence whatsoever regarding speech, eye contact, or general acknowledgement of Betty Cooper’s existence other than whatever drooling may or may not be happening, all of which he finds he has no control over… is all interrupted by the absolute polar opposite of Betty Cooper. Hiram Lodge zooms up to the banana stand on his segway, angling to a stop just before taking out the stand’s foundation.

“Still getting a hang of that, Mayor Lodge?”

Hiram grimaces. “Just checking that you’ve renewed your business permit, Jones.”

They do this once a week. It’s still the same permit.

“You know,” Hiram starts as Jughead rustles for the paperwork to make him go the fuck away, “I could find you an arrangement with a better banana supplier. For a discount. If you’re interested.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your GMO, black market bananas, Hiram.”

Hiram gives him a pointed look. Jughead rolls his eyes even harder. “Mayor Lodge.” He proffers the papers, Hiram waves them away. “I’ll take one chocolate peanut butter dip. With peanuts.”

Jughead kisses his teeth. “That will be $3.50.”

Hiram’s whole face goes serpentine. “Not between business partners, Jones. Put it on my tab.”

Jughead grits his teeth, handing the finished banana so aggressively he hopes that the chocolate splatters and stains Hiram’s $500 tie. It is only slightly worth it to watch Hiram struggle with navigating the segway one-handed, frozen banana in the other.

He muffles a chuckle before realizing he’s used the dead end of the chopped peanut topping, and exits the stand to update the order board hanging on the outside. It’s mostly an excuse to feel a ten degree drop in temperature, a sweet relief he might be able to extend by grabbing a hot dog before the intermission rush.

He’s crossing off peanuts from the topping list and spinning around when he hears a shriek and a sudden, cold slosh across his chest. The yellow polo drips with artificial blue slushie, but Jughead swallows his fucking hell when he sees that the shriek, gaping stare of horror, and stumble in question all belong to his very own blonde kryptonite.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, jesus, shit, I’m so sorry!”

Jughead is frozen while Betty grabs about half his napkin dispenser and starts pawing at his shirt in a vain attempt to right the giant sticky blue mess all over his chest.

Finally, Jughead swallows the golf ball in his throat and chokes out. “Honestly, it’s fine. That stand is a sauna. I needed that.”

Betty stops, both her blotting and her stream of apologizing (which includes a fair bit of cursing, and he is a little revolted with himself by how much this turns him on).

“It’s going to get very sticky, soon. Maybe I should buy a bottle of cold water?”

Jughead can’t help himself. “Oh, impromptu yellow t-shirt contest?”

Betty grins.

I did that.

“Do you have any employees who could bring you another shirt?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Just my sister. She’s playing video games at home. There’s no earthly way she’ll bring me a spare.”

Betty cocks her head. “I had a feeling you were more than the silent back row kind of guy.”

The fact that Betty Cooper has, at any point, considered what kind of guy he is triggers full-on nervous blathering. “I’m usually very tired at school. I have this little sister—but I’m kind of um, her guardian. So I’m doing this stupid banana stand thing because it’s like one of the three assets to our entire family name I guess? Anyway, it’s hard to engage with Haggly’s basic discussion questions at eight in the morning when you spent the whole night dreaming about wholesale banana margins.”

He’s essentially vomiting words, but Betty is still smiling.

“Anyway, I should crawl back into my fruit-shaped purgatory and let you go back to your friends.”

She’s biting her lip, hedging. “Honestly, they’re probably using the alone time to make out in the car, and I’d rather let them get all their sexual tension out so that I don’t have to feel it radiating off of them for the whole second half of the double feature.”

Jughead laughs and tamps down the impulse to offer her a frozen banana, because he cannot possibly say something like that without making it sound sexual.

“What are frozen banana profit margins like, anyway?” Betty asks, either genuinely interested or legitimately flirting with him. Jughead finds both potentials baffling.

Jughead hesitates, then ducks inside the stand, pulling out his spiral bound notebook. “I’m still kind of figuring it out. All my records are in here.”

Betty sidles up to the stand, taking up the whole window. They’re both leaning over the scribbled line items on college ruled paper; he can smell her shampoo. She takes the notebook, scanning thoroughly.

“Do you have a pencil?”

He hands her one and observes her going to work, writing out some algebraic formula and calculating quickly in her head. There is a calculator within his reach, but he thinks handing it to her might come off as an insult. (Jughead wouldn’t know; he assumes Betty is in an advanced math class. Jughead is not.)

After a few minutes of watching her devoted focus, thinking about her hands touching his pencil, thinking about her hands wrapped around his hand, or his—

“I don’t know how to tell this to you, Jug.”

The shortening of his name stops his heart for a jolt, and his response is embarrassingly delayed. “What is it?”

Betty winces but smiles through it, a combination she’s surely learned to use when delivering bad news. It’s well earned, it really does soften the blow.

“There’s no money in the banana stand. At least, not with these margins.”

Jughead finds himself less than devastated by this news, mostly because it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The messenger doesn’t hurt, either.

“But,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve nailed down your course load for senior year. But I’m taking AP Econ? This could be, um, a good project. Like, if you want to take the class. Or even if you don’t. Not that you’re like a project or… whatever. I’m just saying we could figure it out. Make lemonade out of… bananas.”

Betty Cooper is extremely cute when she stammers.

Jughead doesn’t know what to do, so he gives her an easy out. “I can’t like, hire you, if that wasn’t obvious by the whole… deficit spending or whatever the whole negative circled number at the bottom of the page really means.”

She flushes. “No, that would be highway robbery. I just thought there might be an… opportunity. For um, us. I mean, for you and I. I mean—” she clears her throat, as if it’s closing up. “An academic opportunity. Or, in your case, professional. Well, a betterment of your livelihood. Okay, um, shit, just… I should go!”

She turns away, her face the deepest scarlet he’s ever seen.

“Betty, wait.”

She pivots back, eyes down at the ground.

“How about I buy you a new slushie and you come back into the booth. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong for the rest of the night.”

Betty looks up, biting the corner of her smile. “Sounds like a deal.”

They shake on it.

[flightlessangelwings]

I Owe What I am to You

Billy Russo x fem!Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: mild violence, injury, hurt/comfort, kidnapping, minor character death, angst, fluff, protective!Billy, Billy betrays Rawlings AU

~

“Mr. Russo, you have someone here to see you,” Billy’s assistant knocked on his office door.

He glanced at the clock; he didn’t have an appointment scheduled until 2 so there was only one person that could walk through that door. He stood and grinned when he was right and you slid past Billy’s assistant with a quick thanks.

Once the door was closed behind you, Billy quickly closed the gap between your bodies and took your lips with his in a needy kiss. You squealed in surprise, but quickly wrapped your arms around him and pulled him as close as you could. It had only been since this morning since you last saw each other, but lately every hour felt like a week whenever you were apart. 

This past year or so was a rough year for you both.  

You had met Billy some time ago, you forgot how long now when you came in to interview him as part of your job as a journalist and there was immediate chemistry. Soon after, you started dating and soon after that, Billy broke down and told you everything he had kept hidden from the world. There was such a strong connection between the two of you that neither could explain and Billy came to trust you uncharacteristically fast.

He told you about his deal with Rawlins and the guilt he felt for betraying his best friend, Frank Castle. You listened as he cried in your arms, and you told him that the only way he could make it right was to betray Rawlins. 

He was hesitant at first, mostly because he didn’t want to risk putting you in danger or get caught in the crosshairs. But you convinced him you would be alright. You were right of course; Billy had to admit that you almost always were, but Billy was left injured and scarred from his and Frank’s fight with Rawlins. During everything, though, you stuck by his side, and Billy realized just how much he loved you.

Once Billy was fully healed, he rebranded Anvil and rebuilt it from the ground up to be what he wanted from the beginning, and free of Rawlin’s influence. You helped him with that as well; you used your investigative skills to thoroughly vet every applicant and potential networking partner before Billy signed them on.

“Billy,” you giggled between kisses, “Meg is just outside the door.” This wouldn’t be the first time you had sex in his office, but you didn’t want his assistant to hear anything and then have to walk past her when you left.

He didn’t care, and he spun you around and backed you up until your legs bumped into his desk. Billy gracefully lifted you so that you sat on his desk and kissed you even more deeply. It took him some time to show affection like this with you again, but once he started, he didn’t want to stop.

You moaned softly into his mouth before you pushed him back, “Billy,” you gave him a fierce look that always made him melt.

He cradled the side of your face as he said your name, “You’re right,” he looked at you with those big, dark eyes and you almost gave in to him.

You kissed him once more before you leaned back to glance over the papers on his desk. You noticed at the top of the stack, there was a paper with someone’s profile, and you immediately recognized the name. 

“Why are you meeting with Big Ed?” you asked as you picked up the sheet of paper.

Billy’s grip on your waist tightened as he furrowed his brows, “He’s interested in working with Anvil as a partner. How do you know his name?”

You turned back around to meet his gaze, “He keeps popping up when I’m doing my research for you,” you explained, “I can’t find much on him though. It’s like he just appeared out of nowhere,” you let out a heavy sigh, “I don’t know, Billy. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.”

He was quiet for a moment as he took in your words. You were a good journalist, and your instincts were usually correct. Plus, Billy trusted you. He was about to say something when the phone on his desk rang. You jumped in his arms in surprise, and he gave you a quick squeeze before he reached over to press the speaker button.

“Mr. Russo, a Big Ed is here to see you,” Meg’s voice rang through the speaker.

He’s early, “Tell him I’ll be right out,” the line clicked and he turned to you, and the look in your eyes made his heart sink, “Too late to back out now,” Billy said.

“I’ll go back to my office and see what else I can dig up on him,” you pushed yourself off of his desk, but Billy did not release his protective hold on you, “Promise me you’ll be careful Billy.”

He flashed you a charming smile, “I’m always careful baby,” he kissed you once more, and for some reason this kiss felt very final. Billy pushed that sinking feeling aside and told himself it was just nerves, “You want me to call a car for you?”

“I can call one myself, Billy,” you paused and bit your lip as an uneasy feeling hung in the air between the two of you, “I love you.”

Billy brushed your lower lip with his thumb, “I love you too.” It wasn’t often that you and Billy spoke those words aloud to each other, though you both knew the feeling was there. You both saved the words for special or desperate occasions, the the uneasy feeling that hung in the air definitely warranted the moment.

He watched you leave with a heavy feeling in his chest and he took a minute to gather himself before he went to meet with this Big Ed.

You stepped outside Anvil to wait for your car, but you weren’t waiting long until one pulled up and called your name. You thought nothing of it, since the driver used your name and you stepped into the back seat. The drive to your office was silent, and it took longer than usual due to traffic, but you kept yourself occupied by starting your research on Big Ed from your phone. You were so wrapped up in your investigation that you didn’t even notice at first that the car pulled up to your work building. When the driver shook you from your focus, you thanked him and stepped out of the car. 

Just as you got out, your phone rang and you saw it was Billy. You smiled at his picture on your screen; it was one you took when you were out together one night and out caught him in a sweet smile before he regained his composure.

“That was fast,” you said with a short laugh as you answered.

“I think you were right,” his voice was serious, “I had a bad feeling about him too. Cut the meeting short,” Billy paused and you heard him take a deep breath, “You back at your office?”

“Yeah I just got here. Traffic was bad,” you could hear the worry in his voice and it made you nervous, “Everything ok, Billy?”

He was quiet for a moment, “Fine.”

“So you’re not going to work with him then?” you had the feeling there was something Billy was not telling you, and as much as you wanted to know you also didn’t want to push it.

Again, Billy was quiet. What you couldn’t see was the worry on his face as he replayed what Big Ed said to him during the meeting: It’s in your best interest to take my offer. I think you’ll find that I can be very persuasive, Mr. Russo. 

Billy did not like the threat that loomed in his words. When you said his name again, he finally answered, “I don’t know. See what you can dig up, and call me later.”

You swallowed hard; you knew something was wrong, “Alright. I’m walking in now,” you both hung up and you decided to leave it at that for now. You knew Billy would tell you what bothered him eventually when he was ready.

You walked past the security camera and were just about to pull the door open when a pained cry got your attention. Never one to ignore someone in need of help, you let go of the door and ran to the side of the building where you heard the cry come from. You looked around, but no one was there, and you figured you must have imagined it. 

Just as you shrugged and were about to turn around, you heard a rush of movement behind you. But before you could turn, a hand that held a cloth covered your face. You screamed into the cloth, but your cry was muffled. A strong arm held you in place, as much as you struggled, and you passed out after a few moments. Just before you blacked out, you recognized the driver of the car you just exited.

Billy busied himself in his office after he hung up with you, but he still had this nagging feeling in the back of his head that would not go away. He glanced down at his phone again, even though it was only a short while since you hung up. Billy sighed and ran his hands through his hair when his phone rang.

He looked down and saw your face on his screen: a photo of you at the beach that he took over the summer. Billy answered with your name and waited for you to say something. When the line stayed silent, he stood and immediately knew something was wrong. He said your name again with more urgency and he scowled when a deep voice laughed on the other end of the time.

“I told you I can be persuasive, Mr. Russo,” Big Ed’s voice rang through the line.

“What the hell did you do? Where the fuck is she?” Billy shouted with rage into the phone, “I swear, if you hurt her…”

“Your girl is fine, Mr. Russo,” Big Ed cut him off, “And she’ll stay that way as long as you follow my instructions.”

“You son of a bitch,” Billy growled as he shook with anger.

Big Ed ignored the insult and went ahead with his instructions, “I’m going to text you an address from this lovely lady’s phone and you’re going to meet me here in exactly one hour. Come alone. If I see even one other person, she dies. Got it, pretty boy?”

Billy snarled as he gripped the phone so hard it almost broke. Between the insult and taking you, this guy just signed his own death certificate, he just didn’t know it yet. The line clicked and right away a text came in with the address along with a photo of you that made his blood boil. You were unconscious and tied to a chair with a piece of duct tape on your mouth. You didn’t look hurt, which was a small relief, but Billy had never felt more angry, and scared, in his life.

“I’m coming for you baby,” he mumbled to himself as he grabbed every weapon he could and bolted out.

You grumbled as you slowly regained consciousness and found yourself in an uncomfortable chair in the middle of a small, dimly lit room. When you tried to move, you found that your arms were bound behind you with an extra amount of rope around your midsection and your ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. You tried to take in a deep breath, but it was hard due to the duct tape on your mouth. 

A laugh from the corner of the room made you snap fully awake as you tried to turn towards the sound.

“About time you joined us here my lovely,” the voice got closer to you as he spoke and you flinched when you felt a hand caress your cheek. “Oh don’t be like that, baby.”

I’m not your baby, you thought as you glared at him. When he stepped more into your line of vision, you recognized him as Big Ed. But, you hid your shock well. When he tried to run his fingers across your skin, you shook your head and mumbled curses through your gag.

“Feisty aren’t you?” he teased you, “I like that in a woman. And you’re smart too, I’ve had to stay one step ahead of your research. Although you’re the closest anyone’s ever come to revealing my past.” 

Big Ed squeezed your cheeks so hard it made tears form in the corners on your eyes as he leaned in and sneered at you, “I really didn’t want to have to do this, but your boyfriend forced my hand.”

I don’t believe that for a second, you thought as you kept your glare pointed at him. You inhaled and reared your head back as far as you could before you pushed it toward and collided with him with as much force as you could muster. 

“Bitch,” he shouted as he hit you across your face in retaliation. 

You let out a muffled cry when his fist connected with the side of your face, and you would have fallen over from the force of his hit had he not grabbed your shirt to keep you seated upright. He was about to hit you again when an alarm sounded down the hallway.

“Right on time,” Big Ed released you and stepped toward the door, “Once I’m finished with your pretty boyfriend, you and I will pick up where we left off.”

His words sent chills down your spine as he stepped out of the room and locked it behind him. You struggled against your restraints but nothing budged and you let out a heavy sigh. There was no doubt in your mind that Billy would find you, but you found yourself worried for his safety because you were sure Big Ed was a man who played dirty. 

From down the hall, you heard multiple gunshots, followed by shouts and grunts. Every sound made you jump, since you had no idea what was happening just outside the door. You heard the sound of what you guessed were bodies slammed against the wall and you knew it was a fight not too far from the room you were trapped in.

Soon, it got quiet and you kept your eyes on the door as you waited with baited breath. You heard the sound of doors slammed open and one by one, you heard it get closer and closer until the door in front of you swung open with a loud bang.

Out of reflex, you squeezed your eyes shut since you couldn’t move at all. You hated the way you felt so helpless and you could only hope that it wasn’t Big Ed that just burst through the door. 

When you heard your name in Billy’s voice, your eyes shot open and you let out a big sigh of relief. You saw Billy stand in the doorway with his gun drawn, blood all over his body and a fierce look on his face. But his face dropped as soon as he saw you and he tucked his gun away and rushed over to you and said your name again.

“Fuck,” even though Billy saw the photo Big Ed sent him, nothing could have prepared him for seeing you like this in person, “It’s ok. It’s ok,” he repeated, “You’re ok baby. I got you.” Billy’s hand shook as he untied your ankles first before he quickly stopped the tape off your mouth and moved to unite your arms. 

“Billy,” your voice was just above a whisper as you choked back tears. 

The moment your arms were free, you wrapped them around him, and he responded right away. Billy slowly brought you to your feet with his arms around your waist as he whispered comforting words into your ear. 

“You’re safe. I’ve got you baby,” Billy said again and he hated how much his voice shook. He held you tight for a few moments before he pulled back to inspect your face, “Are you hurt?” he brought a hand up to your face and he noticed the bloodstain from where Big Ed hit you and frowned.

You shook your head, “I’m fine,” truthfully you felt sore but you didn’t want to worry Billy any more than he already was. All you wanted to do was get out of here and back home, safe in Billy’s arms. 

Suddenly, a noise from the doorway called both of your attention, and Billy turned around to find that a battered and bleeding Big Ed blocked the exit. The man snarled and raised his gun to aim right at you.

Both you and Billy reacted in tandem as you both reached for his gun. Your hands wrapped around the weapon together and it was as if you moved as one. With ease, the two of you raised the gun and shot him right in the head in one fluid motion.

When Big Ed’s lifeless body hit the ground, you let out a heavy breath. Billy lowered the gun and turned his attention back to you; his arms locked themselves tightly around your body once more. Neither of you spoke as he took you back to his penthouse and had your injury looked at then got you cleaned up and changed.

Billy never once left your side and he barely let go of your body since he found you. He was always protective of you, but after this he felt even more determined than ever to keep you safe. While he cleaned you up, he mumbled apologies and promises that he would do better in the future.

You barely spoke and you couldn’t stop the nerves from rushing through your body. It was only when Billy brought you to bed and laid next to you with his arms securely around you that you finally felt yourself relax. You laid with your head on his chest and just listened to the sound of his heartbeat, which finally slowed down from when it spiked earlier.

“I guess I was right about him, huh Billy?” your voice was weak but you still tried to cover your anxieties with humor. Billy let out a single short laugh at that and kissed the top of your head.

It was well past midnight when you were finally able to fall asleep, but Billy laid awake still with you in his embrace. He listened to the sounds of your heavy breaths and soft snores as he ran his fingers across your skin. 

“I’m never gonna let anything happen to you again,” Billy promised your sleeping form before he finally let himself drift off to sleep as well.

~

Notes: Protective!Billy is my JAM!!!! I’ve had this in my head for awhile and I just had to write it!! It’s been a minute since I’ve written for Billy and I miss him so much! And in case anyone is wondering, I did name the bad guy Big Ed after the guy on 90 day fiance lol

Everything taglist:  @thirsty-flygirl @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @the-purity-pen @bisexual-space-slut​

Billy Russo Taglist @witchygagirl​ @runawayolives​ @morriganwarrior @fictionwillneverdie​ @thanossexual​ @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ @fific7​ @shadow-assassin-blix​ 

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

new team - shoyo hinata

shoyo hinata x fem!reader

summary: you teach hinata some skills in middle school and to pay you back, he guarantees you a spot on the karasuno volleyball team.

warnings: NONE VERY FLUFFY

word count: 1,737

notes: i rlly rlly liked writing this bc i love my boy hinata and this just flowed so naturally and i’m rlly proud of it :’)

i also usually write gender neutral reader bc i’m nb and i wanna cater to as many ppl as possible and make them feel valid, but it was kinda necessary to the story for reader to be fem in this one

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

after setting a ball to your friend, you noticed a short boy by himself in the corner of the gym with bright orange hair, setting and receiving against the wall. you made your way over to him, observing that he actually wasn’t too bad.

“oi, redhead,” you called out playfully. he turned around with a look of confusion on his face, as if to say ‘me?’ “yeah you. i couldn’t help but notice you’re playing all by your lonesome over here. any particular reason for that?”

his cheeks tinged pink at the callout, but he responded nonetheless. “w-well there’s not enough boys for the school to create a boys volleyball club, so i’m trying to get as many hours of practice in at school as i can.”

you nodded in recognition of his situation. “well, sorry to say you won’t get very far if the wall is your only opponent. but you’re certainly welcome to practice with me when my practice is over. if you’re interested, of course.”

“woah, really? you’d do that for me?” he asked in astonishment, eyes going wide as saucers.

“of course i would. i may not know much about you, but i can tell you have a passion for the sport, and it’d be a real shame for that to fizzle out,” you smiled genuinely. “i’ll help you practice...”

it took him a moment to realize you were waiting for his name. “oh! hinata! shoyo hinata.” he introduced.

“well shoyo hinata, i’m y/n l/n and i look forward to practicing with you.” you grinned. a whistle blew behind you, pulling you from your conversation with the boy. “sorry, i’ll see you later!”

sure enough, you found him waiting out by the baseball field, spinning a volleyball in his palm. after a short while of practicing, you realized you had underestimated this kid and the power he can pack in his spikes. it was clear he needed to improve in his receives, but he was in remarkably good shape for playing against a wall every week.

the two of you quickly became good friends, shoyo becoming your number one supporter - aside from your parents, of course. he attended all your games, cheering obnoxiously loud when it was your turn to serve.

over the summer from 8th to 9th grade however, the two of you didn’t see each other nearly as often as you used to. you had to admit it made you sad; the sweet redheaded boy had carved a special spot in your heart and you missed him dearly.

you attended karasuno high school, hoping to join the girls volleyball club and make some new friends. upon examining the club applications, much to your dismay, it appeared that such a club didn’t exist.

volleyball was your passion, and it hurt that you had no way of pursuing it anymore.

hanging your head in defeat and crumpling up the paper, you heard footsteps approaching rapidly from in front of you. before you could look up, a body suddenly collided with you, nearly knocking you over with the momentum they had built up.

“y/n!” a familiar voice cried out. you quickly realized the voice belonged to hinata, who’s arms were currently wrapped around you.

“hinata! i can’t believe you go to school here! i’ve missed you so much!” you squealed, hugging him back.

he pulled away, a look of surprise on his face. “are you kidding? i can’t believe you go to school here! you oughta be wherever the best girls volleyball club is! speaking of that, have you joined yet?”

you glanced down to the crumpled paper that still pressed against your palm. “well that’s the thing, it’s not even a choice on the club application form. unfortunately, i don’t think karasuno has one.”

shoyo gasped dramatically, jaw falling open in shock. “so what are you gonna do? you can’t just not play anymore, you’re so good!”

you smiled at the compliment from the boy, but your expression grew sadder. “thanks, shoyo, but i’m not sure what i can do. this seems like it’s out of my hands.”

a look of determination painted his features as he grabbed you by the shoulders. “no, i’m not gonna let this happen to you. don’t worry, y/n, i’ll find a way for you to play.”

he ran off, leaving you alone with your thoughts in the deserted hallway.

despite having absolutely no idea what he was planning, you trusted the boy. you knew he had your best interests at heart and would do anything to help you succeed, and you adored him for that. you just hoped whatever method he had to allow you to play wasn’t too embarrassing for you; you weren’t too keen on begging some team to let you play for them, but you had a feeling hinata’s plan wouldn’t involve that.

——————————

“please?” hinata begged.

“a girl? join the team? i don’t know hinata, you’d have to run it by the coach.” daichi uttered hesitantly.

“but you’re the captain, daichi, you have the final say!” he reminded him.

daichi sighed. “yeah, you’re right. what’s so special about this girl?”

he watched as hinata’s eyes lit up in excitement when he spoke about her. “well she was the setter in middle school, but that was only because no one else was good enough to play that position. she’s really versatile and she taught me practically everything i know about spiking! she’s also got some mean overhand serving skills; she’d be a great addition to the team! please, daichi, pretty please?”

he looked down at the boy to see him glancing up with a pair of puppy eyes, intent on winning him over. daichi felt he was powerless to do anything but give in, though his description of you did sound pretty great if he was being honest.

“alright, i’ll talk to the coach and see what he thinks. bring her to our next practice and introduce her to everyone.” he said, not missing the bright grin that donned the redhead’s face at his words.

“thank you so much, sir! you won’t regret it, i promise!” he ran back towards the basket of balls to practice serving once more.

——————————

“where are you taking me, shoyo?” you muttered. “can you take your hands off yet?”

he had cornered you back in the main building, insisting you accompany him to some unknown destination he had in mind. since then, he had been walking directly behind you, his hands covering your eyes.

“i’ll show you...” he waited until you took a few more steps. “now!”

you blinked your eyes open to find yourself outside of the gym building. “the gym? what are we doing here, hinata?”

you turned to him and he grinned. “volleyball practice is about to start.”

“volleyball - as in boys volleyball? what am i doing here? am i here to watch you practice?”

he donned a soft smile at your confusion. “no, you’re gonna practice.”

your eyes widened. “i am? i don’t even have any athletic clothes, shoyo, i just have my uniform!”

“i wouldn’t worry too much about that today,” he pushed you towards the doors. “i’ll just be introducing you to everyone today.”

“introducing...? what is going on here, hinata?” you questioned. he pushed the door open to reveal a large group of mostly tall boys, all staring down at you.

most of them looked friendly and approachable, but several of them looked rather intimidating. “everyone, this is y/n. y/n, this is your new team.” shoyo announced.

you gasped, turning towards hinata. “m-my new team? you got me a spot on the team?”

the look of gratitude in your eyes had him blushing a bright pink and he scratched the back of his head nervously. “it was nothing, really. y-”

he was cut off as you hugged him tightly, thanking him for allowing you to continue the sport you loved. “you don’t have to thank me, it’s not a huge deal or anything.”

“are you kidding? it’s a huge deal! i can’t believe you did this for me!” your smile nearly reached your ears.

he walked you around the gym, introducing you to his teammates. sugawara and asahi were incredibly sweet, even offering to set you a few balls to test your spiking abilities, though you declined since you were still wearing a skirt.

the intimidating one you saw earlier - tsukkishima, you had learned - was not as sweet as the others you had met and seemed rather distant, though you hoped that would fade as you got to know him.

tanaka and nishinoya were full of energy and practically gushing over you even though they hadn’t yet witnessed your abilities.

the one shoyo introduced as kageyama shot you a nasty glare. “what position did you play?”

“setter,” you murmured, slightly on edge from the look of intensity in his eyes. that intensity morphed into fury after your words, intimidating you further.

you quickly remembered this was the incredible setter hinata had mentioned several times before. “o-oh! don’t worry, i don’t plan on taking your spot or anything, i’m sure you’re far better than i am!”

“good.” you smiled at him nervously. “if you’re good enough, maybe i’ll send you a couple sets.”

and of course you met daichi, the captain to whom you owed your spot on this team. he was very friendly and personable and you suspected he was the type to give inspirational speeches before games.

kageyama pulled hinata aside, practicing quick attacks with him, leaving you with daichi.

“hinata talks about you quite a bit, y’know,” daichi murmured, catching your attention.

“he does?” you queried. “all good things, i hope.”

the captain smiled down at you. “he speaks very highly about you and your skills. i think he’s got a bit of a bias since you taught him what he knows, but i don’t doubt you’ll really prove yourself on the court.”

your eyes went wide at the faith he already had in you, despite never seeing you play. “thank you, daichi, that really means a lot.”

the boys divided themselves into teams, starting a practice match as you and daichi observed from the sidelines. your eyes found hinata in the back row, who gave you a wide grin and a wave.

you waved back, your heart warming at the gesture. you had only just met the boys, but you couldn’t wait for the next practice.

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

i might make this a series? maybe?? maybe not?? idk but let me know what u think :D

tags: @aestosia​ @elysianslove​

not working: @akaashis-keiji @bloodydestiney 

[sweetsubharry]

do you have any friends to lovers au full of fluffy?

Yes I do!! It is a favourite of mine so be warned there’s 36 fics in this rec!! Isn’t friends to lovers fluff just the best??  💖

Please stay safe and read the tags!!

It's A Start by Magiic_Shop

“This is dangerous, love,” Louis smirked, his lips pressed against Harry’s shoulder blade.

“Why’s that?” Harry asked.

“Because,” Louis’ smirk grew into a smile, “I might never want to let you go.”

Harry shifted against Louis, reaching up to cover Louis’ hand on his stomach with his own, “Then don’t.”

--

Or, the one where Harry can't sleep at night, and because of that, neither can Louis. Louis thinks it could be the start of something.

everything i can arrange, every part of me you change by orphan_account

“Don’t you try that shit with me,” Niall spits the second he reaches Louis, pulling off the hood with force. “What the hell is this?” He plops down next to Louis on the empty bleacher and unceremoniously pushes a sheet of crumpled paper in his face.

Netflix and Chill Buddy Application

It’s like no matter how hard Louis tries, he can’t seem to run away from this stupid fucking flyer. All the girls (and some of the boys) in every one of his classes have been talking about it all week. It’s on every wall of every building on campus. Louis went for a jog last night and he nearly tripped and died over a loose one on the football track.

[Harry needs a big spoon and Louis refuses to let anyone steal his position. Based on this post.]

One Plus One Is Also One (Sometimes) by justgotowisharder

“Dear Mrs. Sissy,” Anne read out loud and Harry only wanted the ground to swallow him up, “you asked me to write about my hero but I don’t have a hero, I have a superhero. Superheroes are better and have superpowers. My superhero is Louis Tomlinson.”

(Or the one where Louis Tomlinson isn’t really a superhero, but he’ll always do everything on his power to protect his baby Harry)

Love You But I Gotta Let Go by FallingLikeThis

Harry’s father is never going to be satisfied with anything that he does. But maybe that’s okay when his best friend is there, always cheering him on anyway.

Prompt 947: The despair of ever living up to his standards.

Pour Your Heart Out by hrrytomlinson

Louis is his soulmate. Or at least Harry thinks he is. Louis feels the same as Louis. But there are a lot of people named Louis in the world and this Louis might not be the Louis. It’s besides the point though, because Harry knows he can’t allow himself to get close to any boys. He just can’t and he’s told himself this multiple times. He has to simply stay away from Louis Tomlinson. But he can’t. Harry Styles can never stay away from Louis Tomlinson. It’s physically impossible for him to. 

Take This Sinking Boat and Point It Home by goodgirlfaith (boomersoonerash)

Five times Louis Proposes to Harry and the one time he doesn't.

Just Ask Me To by TellMeThisIsNotLove

“You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers.

“Of course I’m telling the truth!” Harry doesn’t even care that he sounds exasperated.

“Oh my god.” Louis grabs the wall behind him as if looking for support. His body slides down against it until he’s sitting crouched on the floor.

He mumbles something but Harry can’t really figure out what it is. He crouches down, and looks desperately at the breaking boy in front of him.

“You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers. “You were not supposed to–”

“I was not supposed to do what? Tell me please,” Harry urges, taking Louis’ hands gently in his.

Or the X Factor era canon fic where they learn how to be a couple and that not everyone is going to be on their sides especially those with plain white t-shirts and saccharine smiles.

Burning Skies by emeraldharry 

They both watched as ice and fire danced across their palms, hypnotized by the small things they could do with their powers. Snowflakes swirled around each other as the mist twisted about like a small tornado, while the fire in Louis' hands swayed and twirled gracefully—bright and warm and beautiful.Before, Harry couldn't even think of touching him with the fear of turning his skin to ice. Now, he knew that Louis wasn't some ordinary human to shy away from. Louis was bright, fiery flames, a body of powerful waves of heat. Louis was everything he was not, his polar opposite, but it was all the more reason that they fit together just right.or[Mutant au: Harry likes to think he's normal. Except, normal boys don't freeze everything they touch. Louis thinks he's perfect just the way he is and shows him just that. Zayn is a telekinetic, Liam is a rising YouTube star, and Niall is the best human best friend there is.]

I see the love light in your eyes by larrycaring

For as long as Harry can remember, Louis has always been his best friend.

There are a few constant things in Harry’s life: his family, this town he’s grown up in, and Louis.

He had his other friends, of course, but Louis had always been and still was the person that Harry was closest to. Maybe it was due to the fact that they live next to each other, and that, since the first night they’d talked, when he and Louis shared a conversation on their conjoining roofs, they instantly hit off, and a friendship developed. Or maybe it was that Louis was always so cheeky, almost the opposite of Harry, but it complimented Harry’s slow and thoughtful way of life perfectly. Either way, it just kind of happened.

or an AU where Louis and Harry are very much in love. Featuring football & late night rendezvous.

you fit me better than my favourite sweater by brightbluelou

Harry didn't mean to fall in love with his best friend, and he definitely didn't mean to get pregnant. Despite that, it’s probably still the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And after that, well. It just kept getting better.

or; the one where Harry and Louis are friends-with-benefits and Harry unexpectedly gets pregnant. Harry never wants to stop getting pregnant after that, but Louis thinks seven kids is probably enough.

put your head on my shoulder by wayfared

Niall gives Harry until the end of marching season to either a) make a move on Louis Tomlinson or b) get the fuck over him. Either is easier said than done. Basically, your High School AU with a drum beat.

My Only Sunshine by DontLetHimGo

Harry and Louis have known each other since the start of everything.

When Harry is only a few weeks old, and Louis is two, the older boy is immediately intrigued by the little person in the carry cot. Jay knows that it will be difficult to keep her son away from her best friend's little boy.

baby, hold on to my heart by icaarusfalls

Here was the dilemma: Louis and Harry were out with their mates window shopping because there was nothing else to do and Louis brought an antique ring, hoping to pawn it off to get some quick cash. It was a small, old thing, all rusted and gold, but it had its charm. The owner didn't take it because of the minuscule crack down the middle of the jewel, so Louis just shrugged and handed it to Harry without a thought.

—•—

Louis gives Harry a ring as a joke, but Harry starts wearing the ring everywhere he goes.

So Put Your Hands In (The Holes of My Sweater) by Kat_rawr

“Are you gonna kiss me then?” He asks so quiet he isn’t even sure Louis heard him.

“I think it’s bad luck if I don’t.“ Louis’ breath is hot on Harry’s skin in the cold air. They stand in the dark; Louis’ face only lit up by the yellow-ish light from the street light a few metres away. The light over the door of their building hasn’t worked in years.

“Okay,” Harry says, and of course his cheeks heat up. There are definitely butterflies in stomach and his mouth is definitely dry.

or,

Harry and Louis go on a lot of not-dates.

It's the Sun In Your Eyes by Bearandleonardwrite

Harry's not the best with relationships. Then he finds Louis.

(Basically; Harry's insecure and hurt, but Louis loves him anyways and knows how to help.)

Sun-Dappled by QuickedWeen

Louis and his best friend Harry are in their seventh year at Hogwarts, facing down their future together. Louis has been in love with his best friend for as long as he can remember, and he begins to feel a sense of urgency as the second semester begins. Finally he hatches a plan to tell Harry about his feelings on Harry's birthday.

Stop Making Tired Excuses by midnightskies

Louis hates many things; cold tea, countdown, tuesdays, and university, but most of all he absolutely, categorically despises Eric Davidson, current boyfriend of Harry Styles. 

nonstop earthquake dreams of you by lumineres

And there's heat behind it, blazing, plasmatic, like stars crashing together, like an explosion in space, like a supernova, like a black hole--everything else sucked out of existence. There's no bed and there's no pillow and they're not lying down, just floating somewhere, somehow, and there's no room and there's no X Factor house and there's no Niall snuffling or Liam's deep, even breathing and there's no wind or traffic outside and there's no hum of the heating unit and it's all just Louis. All encompassingly Louis.

or, harry falls hard and finds louis already at the bottom

every december (your star lights the sky) by larrystomlinsons

Louis needs a date for the Christmas dance and Harry is the wingman that has feelings for him.

Counting The Steps Between Us by zarah5

AU. So, yeah. That year abroad helped Harry establish that he is in love with his best friend. Now, if Louis would stop treating him like a little brother, that would be awesome. (Additional ingredients: a collapsing tree house, a lot of pining, the other three boys as Louis' new best mates from university, and a camping trip. Serve hot.)

waiting on the sun by midnights

A third year counselor at Camp Weehawken, Louis just wants to get through the summer without accidentally professing his love to Harry during movie night.

ft. night swimming, lots of cuddles, and even more fluff.

Right From the Start (You Know I Got You) by FallingLikeThis

Louis grows up protecting Harry. Harry loves him for it.

Let Me Give You My Life by midnightskies

Gemma has one rule for Louis while he stays with her family at Christmas; not to hook up with her little brother, so of course that's the one thing Louis does.

deep in my heart i know there's only you by ballsdeepinjesus

"Will you do it?” Harry whispers. Louis has to lean closer just to hear him. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, not knowing what Harry means. “Would you donate for me?”

Louis is dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, I thought you just asked if I’d donate my sperm. Can you repeat yourself?”

[harry and louis are best friends who engage in some platonic baby-making. very platonic.]

You Are The View by larryftnoctrl

Louis is running out on time for his photography assignment and Harry looks lovely in red. It only made sense.

the most beautiful thing by sunflowergolden

“Well, I came prepared of course. I actually have a full on suit with me.”He had to be joking. “Lou, you have to be joking. There’s no way you took a full on suit with you all the way from the States.”“I was raised right, H. You never know when you’re going to need it, so you take it with you. In case a cute boy asks you out.”or, the one where louis and harry have been friends for a while, but they live 5.404 miles away from each other, and louis goes to stay with harry for a week

Take Me As I Am by lovelarry10

“Suppressant? But… why would I need a suppressant? Alphas don’t take suppressants.”

“You’re right, they don’t.”

****

Secrets. Lies. Deception. Betrayal. Self-discovery.

Alpha. Omega. How far will they go to hide the truth?

don't call me baby by 28sunflowers

A short and cliché roommates AU inspired by To Be So Lonely, where they’re both oblivious to each other’s feelings and Harry gets sad and jealous over nothing. It works out in the end.

Spin Me Like A Record by zarah5

Uni AU. Sometimes, Louis poses as Harry’s boyfriend. It doesn’t mean anything. Really.

Take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic by larrycaring

Call him hopelessly romantic, but Harry was convinced Louis was the one for him. He had never really believed in love at first sight until his special person had come along and stolen his heart. And really, as soon as he had first met Louis on the train, Harry had felt something. Their love, at first sight, had started when they had met, and it had never ended since they had found each other. Harry hadn’t known it back then, of course, but even during his first encounter with Louis, he had felt that fluttering feeling from deep down inside, when Louis had first smiled at him. It had been like gravity had moved, and nothing had mattered more than him.

or even in a magical world, Louis and Harry's love is the most magical and beautiful thing in the world, Zayn is the smart Ravenclaw who falls for his best friend, Liam's true feelings are revealed and Niall is Niall.

or my first Larry Hogwarts AU that I just had to write.

Close your eyes (and let the word paint a thousand pictures) by larrycaring

They were attached at the hip as soon as they met on the Hogwarts Express. They became good friends within the first week of school, and from that day on, Harry just kind of snuck his way right into Louis’ heart. It’s just his charming side, his genuine and caring personality, his stupid puns (and now pick-up lines) that make Louis laugh his ass off, and his bravery and determination. His endless support and loyalty, his friendship… Everything about him, Louis loves. Merlin’s beard, he’s truly gone for him. And he doesn’t know how to tell Harry.

or another Hogwarts AU where Harry thinks it’s a good idea to use cheesy pick-up lines to reveal his feelings to Louis.

Faking It by TheCellarDoor

A uni AU in which Louis has been Harry’s best friend since he offered him cubed fruit on the playground, and they spend more time cuddling in their dorm beds than they do apart, but it’s not like that. Or is it?

Aka Harry pretends to date his best friend to escape unwanted attention from a too insistent classmate and hopes it won’t blow up in his face. Featuring embarrassing dildo accidents, awkward boners, longing, first times, late night conversations, emotional discoveries and Niall as the exasperated friend with bad advice.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

A Real Work of Art by lululawrence

“I don’t understand,” Liam said for probably the fiftieth time in ten minutes. “You have to explain again how this is a bad thing.”

“Leeeeyummm,” Harry whined into the phone as he leaned his head onto his desk. “I felt like this year was my year for getting his attention, you know? That senior year I would finally get Logan Thompson to realize I exist! But he’s in almost every single one of my classes, Li. How am I supposed to survive that?”

“Easily,” Liam answered, with the same matter of fact tone his voice always took when Harry was in one of his fits. “He doesn’t know you exist, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Right?”

Or the one where Harry calls on an old friend, the super popular Louis Tomlinson, to help him change his look to capture the heart of Logan. Things only mostly go as planned.

wanna taste your heart, don't interfere by orphan_account

Harry still remembers how unsure he felt when he first told Louis, how self-conscious he was. Louis had been nothing but understanding and kind, though, reassuring him that nothing’s going to change between them, that they’re still best friends regardless of sex. Harry had been mostly relieved at that, because he really doesn’t want to lose Louis as a friend over this, but another part of him had been a bit sad because… well, because nothing changed between them. Or rather, there is change, but it’s completely one-sided as far as Harry can tell.

This change being him not getting enough of the way Louis smells. He just can’t help it, is the thing, unable to stop himself from trying to subtly press his nose against the fabric of Louis’ shirt by his shoulders. He still smells like faint cologne and sweat, which is enough to make Harry start feeling slightly dizzy.

(harry presents as an omega, louis is his alpha best friend, and there are hidden feelings that just get harder to control.)

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

this is a wip but it is updated regularly, almost finished, and I highly recommend it!!

[lucefrs]

          tl;dr: luce thinks about how she should have never ended up at georgetown in the first place, and the domino effect it had on her life. after flunking out of gallagher, she savours the summer. her and scott break up sometime after new years. a quick onslaught of success makes her feel wary, unsure how to not take up space she doesn’t deserve after doing it so many times before. she performs her own song in the lower east side.

                                                                      insp for the song she plays at the end. 

BEFORE.

luce is a bright child but lacks in the area of self discipline and application. she would benefit from paying closer attention during class discussion.

she knew from a very young age that she was not smart. at least not by the metric that institutions measure by. the unlucky curse that has kept her in the stream of academia is this: luce frear is smart enough. to graduate secondary school because it’s a key that unlocks america’s golden arches. to pursue higher education when she gets the encroaching feeling that she’s going to be found out that she doesn’t actually have any family friend's as guarantors. at the time, she doesn’t know how impossible georgetown is. but finding herself in the company of a man who will pay for her to do well, with a tutor that makes the s.a.t’s boil down to a formula of memorization and deduction is a genius move. those three hours are brutal, she struggles but she struggles through it, proud that only a handful of questions were left unanswered. it’s only after she's sat for it that she realizes how impossible georgetown is with it’s fourteen percent acceptance rate.

she uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. or very right. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. he’s kissing her. he’s happy. because of her. she’s made him happy. that's good. she's happy too. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘   my sat scores were no where near the average,    ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. she pukes in his shower. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university.

‘   god, you’re so smart luce. we could call it the boyfriend guesses my lip gloss challenge.   ’ she only hears the first part, boasting a smile that makes the apples of her cheeks swell, all rosy like. at the time gallagher had felt like a enticing romp, bound by infatuation, the glint of the dew that hung at the end of the school’s weeping willows sparkling so bright that her heart-shaped sunglasses couldn’t subdue it. luce has never waited for anything, but her first few months at gallagher felt like a gift the universe had hand-picked, oblivious of her christmas list doodled with music notes and brand names of dresses that cost seven hundred dollars, it felt like finding treasure. smart’s an understatement, genius is more apt. she lets this sentiment lead, when the offer to stay comes soaring towards at her like paper plane that falls right into the palm of her hands. it makes logical sense to stay. scott’s here.

she’ll adapt. but gallagher starts to feel worlds away, and as much as she digs her heels into the gravel, gravity starts to slip from her grasp. but how could she can complain? in outer space, anywhere she looks there’s an endless landscape of stars, bright and twinkling, beckoning her towards the nearly planet. but it makes her want to cry when she sees the blue-green dot recede into the distance.

PRESENT-ISH.

luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. she’s so excited she can’t sleep. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. 3:36. if she falls asleep in the next four minutes she’ll have a solid four hours, but as soon as she closes her eyes her heart runs like it’s just heard the start of the piston, and the percentage she needs to get in order to pass the class rings aloud and reverberates against her brain. forty six percent. she doesn’t even need to pass the exam in order to pass the class — she’s going to be a gallagher girl. whether she likes it or not. in the dark, her hand finds the nob of his bedside drawer, carefully sliding it open, her fingers tinkering inside to feel for whatever weed scott has, gifted joints or a prized gram for winning a dumb luck game. he always has something, even after he passes some of it on to seb. she doesn’t go far, slips out of his grasp and onto the lantern lit cobbled pavements, follows it strictly like she’s on a board in a game of snakes and ladders, stopping every time she takes a drag. she eventually falls against a bench like an abandoned rag-doll, limbs splayed every which way and falls asleep until she's woken up by the rev of a motorcycle engine set as her alarm. luce goes through the pre-test motions with due diligence, takes a shower and eats a proper meal, as though there's someone waiting to accuse her of self-sabotage. she picks up her tote that's packed from the night before and gives the test her all. it's not her fault that her focus wavered in five minute blocks, or that nerves make her feel as though there's an ongoing tussle in her tummy. she treats the residual high as something she couldn't possibly have controlled, it should've left her system by now. and she’s a hero for persevering through it. she tried her best. and in spite of it all, she still fails. thank god.

SUMMER.

she doesn’t want the summer to end. it does anyways.  

INTERLUDE

she's not the type to tuck herself into the booth, but harper’s gone to the bathroom and luce has a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, and her head’s been swimming in cheap liquor all night with no reprieve. she can’t get her head above water for more than a minute before falling back under. her gaze catches a couple in the corner, slow dancing to david guetta and her lips curl into a wry smile, his lips cushioned against his neck, murmuring something she’ll never know, and then they’re laughing — maybe about the fact that they’re slow dancing to memories, or because they’re in love, everything’s funnier when you’re in love. a tiny giggle, lost to the boom of the speakers escapes her, because she’s so in love too.

i miss you.   missing ur 🍆 spare nudes? 🙏🏼 ft? x

she holds down the backspace key and puts her phone away.

                                                         ***

‘   i don't know how to miss you in the right way,   ’ she says after a bout of silence, it makes her stomach lurch, like stepping off a ledge and finding the ground lower than expected. there’s no chance to blink back the tears, and she’s so in shock from what she’s just said that she makes no motion to cover her face from him, staring down the barrel of the webcam, like she’s on the brink of death. she’d give up the forty years of her life to get to the part where she can look back on this fondly, of a great love that once was. her child-like whimpers have her grappling for breath. ‘   it hurts.   ’ she manages to sputter out, and she knows it’s hurting him too. eventually, luce will blink away the last of her tears, because she needs this picture to really believe it.

SOMETIME, SOME DAY.

she's not so much herself as she is everyone else. there are pieces of her in the crescendo of what billboard deems the song of the summer. she’s etched in the familiarity of the bass in the last song played before last call — the resonant thrum of waking up blacked out on the front lawn of an ex best friend. the producer that the lead singer can't function without. the origin story of a grammy nominated album which started on the fire escape, exiled by roaches, a guitar slung like a rifle entering the wild wild west of cicadas and greeted by an empty ashtray save for a half abandoned spliff. a story deified for late night talk shows with parrot hosts and their fake squawks. it’s all made up names in CD booklets that no one looks at anyways. it doesn’t make her an enigma, she has a wikipedia page. record labels take her out for lunch, and she goes because she likes people, even the kind who gawk at her pretty face, drooling at the dollar signs in her doe brown eyes and blonde hair. of course, they love her, a girl who orders salad but doesn’t skip dessert — a reluctance toward fame but endlessly optimistic about the future of the music industry, splits the bill and turns a handshake into a hug when they express their keen interest in working with her. there’s a twinkling note of laughter when she pulls away and says, ‘    you’ve never even heard me sing. i’m not good enough.   ’ and she realizes with a twitch of bitterness that she doesn’t have to be, and things working out feels more like a curse when it isn’t deserved.

she talks but can't write unless it's in time signatures and treble clefs and if she does manage to write in a language comprised of letters ( which has only ever happened once ) she can't sing - unless it’s for boys she likes. so she poaches a voice, scrolling through the repertoire of people who have held her heart in their hands. her song is the last song of his set and it sounds like this. they smile through every note, she laughs at his falsetto in the last chorus. she plays her heart out with a vigour that leaves her palms moist, expecting that when the song ends there’ll be a silence broached by the slow clap of j.k simmons. luce lives in a movie and can feel the montage scene catch up to her. she can feel the lingering memory that never existed : a swollen belly and walls painted pink, a toddler that makes their white picket fenced garden a stomping ground, a cinematic pan across a fairy-lit paris, and night walks. when she looks over, she’ll see him, but she’s going to change the ending. her pinky hovers above the last key she played, letting the sound ring out into silence, before they’re met with fervent applause and whistles. this is the moment. luce looks into the crowd. she looks into the crowd and none of the faces are him because why would they be ? she hadn’t told anyone. the only person who knew was herself. it was hers. this moment is hers and she cradles it close, because she’s never had something of her own before. not really. but she likes the way it feels. the man who once held her heart in his hand kisses the top of her head and praises her with a plunging bow. she looks into the sea of strangers who watch her and she watches them back. this is the moment. hers alone. and she’s never felt less lonely.

[merritts]

A little backstory to Merritt Drew....

Full Name: Merritt Drew Harding

Age: 24

Appearance: 5′6, curly red hair, blue eyes

Birthday: October 3rd

Sexuality: good question

Key information / Biography:

Most people remember their childhood, their early childhood in just small flashes or almost the memory of a memory. There are things we assumed we did; been afraid of the dark, hated one specific vegetable, learn the alphabet. Maybe those things are not clear, but often times we know they happened in some capacity. The quintessential curve of toddler life to nursery school is a familiar image for most

Merritt Drew Harding does not remember anything before age five. She never assumed anything bad about it or that it was something traumatic. There was never aa reason to do so having been adopted into a family that was all she knew. Merritt was the youngest, among other siblings adopted or fostered at different points in their life. 

The only negative thing, if you could call it negative, was that money was tight. Most of her clothes and school uniforms were handed down from sisters or other community members who outgrew their plaids and button downs. Her home had dial-up internet well into the early aughts. Microsoft Word? She wrote her school papers on Notes until she had a library card and could be trusted to sit in the town library alone at age twelve. There were no iPods or *gasp* post-2008 iPhones. There were ripped CDs of Linkin Park and Michelle Branch, there were Joni Mitchell albums, and VHS tapes of Mork and Mindy, there was PBS children’s blocks and news hours, so in some ways, Merritt was a little behind. She didn’t catch up on modernization until maybe 2012 when she was finally allowed to make an instagram like the rest of her friends (she accessed it from her older sister’s phone and was very protective of her password)

Yet, those things didn’t bother her. Remember that library where she wrote her school essays? She spent lots of time there otherwise, reading of course but mainly writing. Merritt felt creative at heart, like her fingertips were electric and her ideas were visualized to perfection in her mind. Maybe it was a real talent. Merritt also knew she had a bit of a green thumb, an affinity for finches following her on walks, and a rather strong will to ensure that the school bully’s shoelaces were tied together during gym - even if she never actually did it herself. 

Queens Lace was small, but not so small that Merritt struggled to find work. Of course no amount of money she made at a part time job would fully afford college, but she kept trying anyway. She liked the application process actually and nearly crashed down the stairs the day she got accepted to a university in New York. Merritt pleaded, she begged, she wrote god-damn play about how desperately she wanted to go. With some reluctance for their baby leaving, eventually Mr. and Mrs. Harding agreed - as long as Merritt kept her scholarship and work study all four years.

It was a done deal.

It was in the city that she ran into some more...esoteric figures. Maybe they saw something more in her than she had figured, but it wasn’t long before Merritt realized she had some abilities that were best defined as calling herself a witch. 

That was just back burner stuff during undergrad, she was too busy being a Creative Writing major. It reminded her of the electrified feeling she got at the library writing, writing, and writing as a kid. But post graduation, Merritt found herself a little stuck. So she applied for grants and decided to stick around the city for her MFA in Creative Writing, letting her other practice take more root at this time. 

Now at age twenty four, graduating with her masters degree and identifying as a fully fledged witch, she returned home this summer to Queens Lace for the first time. Well not the first time, but the most prolonged visit since she first made the switch to college. The town has a different vibration now, and the whispers concern her.

She’d been gone for a few years and was returning, not just lost with what to do with her life, but with a new part of her identity at maybe not such a great time to be calling herself a witch. That’ll stay on the DL for now. 

Merritt is staying at home for now, she’s not sure if she’ll settle back in Queen’s Lace. But for now, volunteering at the library along with her freelance writing contracts is enough to keep her afloat. 

[rjzimmerman]

This is a good example of why the “net zero” and the various carbon offset and carbon market schemes are a fraud on the public. “Gimme money and I’ll keep my trees here (which I was gonna do anyway) and then you can keep spewing all those carbon molecules into the sky, just like you’ve always done.” Fucking joke.

Excerpt from this story from the LA Times:

As fire ripped through the Mendocino County hills the summer of 2018, burning a vast expanse of forest and turning buildings to ash, a curious thing was happening at Eddie Ranch, a sprawling property scorched by the flames.

Its owners were petitioning the state to allow it to be paid millions to preserve trees destroyed by the inferno.

Eddie Ranch said the trees would fight climate change, asserting in its application for California’s carbon “offset” program that they would absorb some 280,890 tons of greenhouse gases. Polluters use the program to outsource their obligations to fight global warming: The credits purchased from faraway forests allow them to claim greenhouse gases they release at their facilities are not hurting the planet.

The bulk of the Eddie Ranch carbon credits would be bought by PBF Energy, which was looking to erase — on paper — emissions from its hulking oil refineries in Torrance and Martinez and the gasoline they sell to the motoring public.

Incinerated trees, of course, can’t help the climate. But months after the 2018 fire that burned enough of Eddie Ranch to make nearly all of its planned carbon credits useless in the fight against global warming, the state of California allowed the operation to sell those credits to polluters, basing its decision on the state of the ranch before the fire.

“How do they get away with this stuff?” said Ricardo Pulido, executive director of the nonprofit Community Dreams in Wilmington. The South L.A. clean-air activist is among many exasperated that state climate laws allow oil companies to use the arcane offset system to pollute in communities like his.

Eddie Ranch was one more puzzling transaction at a time the state’s entire multibillion-dollar market of carbon offsets — most of them generated in distant forests — is under siege.

To comprehend what went down at Eddie Ranch, said Grayson Badgley, a postdoctoral fellow at Columbia University and Black Rock Forest in New York’s Hudson Valley, “imagine a general contractor finalizing the sale of a soon-to-be-completed home while the house under construction is actually in flames.”