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thecatinthestacks · 9 months ago

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Last year I made a log of my daily thoughts during the book fair and completely forgot to share them.

So please enjoy this extremely belated post about 2023's book fair! :D

DAY ONE

New year, new secretary. I have tactfully requested that she not call the library to ask if I'm ready for customers when the schedule says I'm open. (If the fair opens at 7:30 and it's after 7:30, then it's super-duper obvious I'm open.)

Because EVERY YEAR the secretary calls the library to ask "you ready for customers?", and EVERY YEAR after I wade through a huge crowd of kids to get to the phone, it gets harder and harder to answer politely.

This year, we're open before the bell. Completely dead in the morning, not a single pre-bell customer. Exactly like I told the principal, who appeared to be disappointed that there wasn’t a rush on the very first day.

Good news: I finally remembered to ask for seed money before we opened the fair!

Bad news: I forgot to ask for fives and tens and my first customer of the entire fair is paying with a hundred dollar bill.

Kids used to Scholastic fairs find out that Literati doesn’t sell books with cheap necklaces and erasers attached. Stunned to have to choose books based on their interests. I edge inexorably closer to my “the kids these days” phase.

Me: “Teachers, please call ahead before you bring your entire class at once.”

Entire Fifth Grade: *turns up at the same time unannounced*

Fifth grader paying with his own Apple watch asking to return Stranger Things: Kamchatka because “it’s not really Stranger Things, it’s just a ripoff!”

Me: “Please remember the library is closed because I had to physically remove the check-in computer to make room for the registers.”

Teacher: [keeps sending kids to get new library books anyway]

DAY TWO

No, you can’t use my phone to call your mom to ask for money.

No, you can't go to the office to call your mom to ask for money.

How to summon customers- sit down to do one (1) thing. This instantly activates a shopping frenzy.

Honey, how about you just give me all of your change right now instead of handing me yet another handful every time I finish counting?

Honey, how about you ask me how much things cost instead of buying one item at a time and seeing how much change you get back?

Kindergarten Music Program lets out, SWARMS OF PARENTS AND FAMILIES APPEAR! IT'S SUPER PROFITABLE!

Had to yell at a kid in front of their own mother. (It's okay, she agreed with me that kicking stuff is bad.)

Kid who returned the Stranger Things book annoyed that his refund hasn't reached his Apple Pay account yet. Purchases a poster instead. I suggest cash next time.

DAY THREE

Principal and counselor bring the webcam in to promote the fair during morning announcements and do the pledges.

Me: *slowly and quietly finishes ringing a child up during the moment of silence, hoping nobody notices*

I am eternally grateful to my parent volunteer who is able to be here for hours on end and I wish nothing but the best for her and her daughters.

Pretty sure this fifth grade boy is buying little trinkets to woo the crowd of girls following him. I should probably touch base with his teachers about that.

I can tell you didn’t even try to read the book you picked. Because it’s in Spanish, that’s why. No, I know you don’t speak Spanish. Because I know your mom, that’s why.

Kid walks in, instead of shopping waits patiently by the register to ask me “Do I give you my money now?”

Kid who bought and returned Stranger Things book wants to return poster that is now dinged up.

To the kid who only has $5 for the week- I feel ya, but no matter how many times you bring me an item and ask "how much?", it doesn't change anything. I've already told you which items are in your price range.

Have to cut off the Stranger Things kid because he keeps wanting to return things that are no longer in sellable condition. Sorry, bro, this sale is final!

First Grader: *smugly buying a chapter book she can't read because she knows I can't do anything to stop her*

Me: *sells her the chapter book because she'll be able to read it eventually and maybe the spite will motivate her to practice more*

DAY FOUR

That's it, I’m making a list of basic financial lessons we need to start teaching the kids:

YOU HAVE TO ACCOUNT FOR SALES TAX

No, change is not “extra” money you get as a treat. No, you don’t get to decide how much change you get.

You can’t ignore the numbers after the decimal point. $2.99 does not mean $2.

When a price includes cents, that doesn’t mean you have to have exactly that much in coins. You can simply give me more dollars and then you will get change back.

The answer to “How much can I get with $20?” is “it depends on what you’re buying”.

The answer to “How much do the books cost?" is "it depends on what you're buying".

If you don't have enough money to buy the book you want, you can simply NOT buy anything today and bring the correct amount tomorrow.

...or you can bring three bucks every day, be surprised that the book still costs $10, then spend all your money on erasers and go home and ask for more money...

...okay, seriously I need to make a chart or a TikTok or something to explain this. You're sad you don't have enough money for that Dog Man book, but you brought $3 EVERY DAY and instead of saving it you bought trinkets that you keep losing! I WENT OVER THIS WITH YOU EVERY DAY, I DON'T KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT ANY EASIER!

To the 5th grader who only had $5 for the whole week and keeps buying and returning various items and is mystified that this hasn't resulted in him making a profit- I'm cutting you off for your own good, and also I'm sending an email to your math teacher to let her know you may need extra tutoring.

Book Fair Gift Card: *can only be spent on books*

Kid: *only wants a spy pen*

Me: *agrees to buy him the spy pen myself if he will pick a damn book already!*

Girl: "I have $15. How much is this?"

Me: "Let's see...with sales tax, it's gonna be ten dollars and eighty-one cents."

Girl: "Oh...I don't have any cents."

Principal: *aghast choking noise*

Me: *quickly defuses the incoming lecture with a Fun Math Lesson!*

DAY FIVE

Time to deploy the annual "We have nothing left under $X. Please don't send kids shopping if they have less than $X." email.

Gently turning away three dozen kids that have less than $X.

"If I bring $10, can I come shopping tomorrow?"

"Honey, tomorrow's Saturday."

"Oh. I mean next week."

"Next week is Spring Break."

Annual tradition of kids being shocked that this is the last day of the book fair despite all the posters and flyers saying the book fair only lasts a week.

Bonus points for the same kids being shocked every year that the book fair is not permanent addition to the library.

Volunteer Mom letting her daughters pick out some books to buy.

Her: "How about this one?"

Kid: "No! It's too learny!"

Me: *picked the wrong time to drink water*

Tracking down teachers to get them to pay for the books they set aside for themselves and their children. Finally down to the last teacher who was going to get a book for her kid. I open the library door to hear him in the middle of a tantrum and her yelling at him...

...I close the library door like "okay, guess he's not getting that book..."

Re-doing the final accounting because I forgot to factor in the startup cash.

Re-re-doing the final accounting because I forgot to pull books to purchase for the library

Going home to put on jammies and sleep for 12 straight hours!

#library things #book fair #kids are fun

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auriel187 · 2 years ago

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The More Things Change (S1 E5)

Word Count: 3142

Series Masterlist

A/N: If anyone doesn't like the fact that the oc is black, go away.

Sitting in Mr. Feeny's classroom, I had been sketching for the past ten minutes while Shawn was using my class notes to do the worksheets. "I have graded last week's geography examination... and the highest score was achieved by..." but he was interrupted by Cory.

"Minkus. Was it achieved by Minkus? Does it go to Minkus? Minkus, right?" The curly haired boy exclaimed and Shawn looked over at him and turned back to my notes. "Mr. Minkus." Mr. Feeny confirmed my crazy friend's theory.

"That's a shock." Cory rolled his eyes as Shawn took my sketchbook off my desk and stared at the unfinished images. He smiled at them even though they weren't that good. He pinched my cheek when he handed it back to me.

"Thank you, Mr. Feeny. Your bonus question was a real stumper." I heard Minkus say and I rolled my eyes. Shawn threw a rolled up piece of paper at the shorter blonde's head.

"Miss Owens, excellent. Mr. Baker, very nice. Mr. Matthews... Well, there it is." Mr. Feeny said as he continued passing the tests around. Shawn didn't even care when he got his test back. "Miss Archer, remarkable work." My teacher said to me as he placed my test over my sketch book. A large A marked the top of my paper.

"A "C"? But I actually studied for this test. Why did I get a "C"?" Cory asked exhaustedly. "Let's see. Where to begin. Well, for one thing, Mr. Matthews... this section of the map is not East Germany." I kept drawing, my little sketch turning into a super heroine with a glamorous dress. She kind of looked like Storm.

"It's not?" Cory sounded baffled.

"Perhaps you heard of a little incident... with the Berlin Wall?" I looked over at Cory as he pondered the answer. "Was that during baseball season?" I rolled my neck before I leaned forward.

"There is no East Germany anymore, Cory." I whispered. That did absolutely nothing to ease his confusion.

"But the textbook says it's right next to West Germany." He looked between our teacher and myself.

"Yes, well, the textbook also says that Alaska and Hawaii... will make fine states someday. Things change, Mr. Matthews. Unfortunately, the Board of Education... doesn't have the funds to keep up." Mr. Feeny explained as he continued handing out the tests.

"Then how am I supposed to keep up?" Cory asked. "Watch the news. Pay attention in class. Look at the mimeographs I give you... before you turn them into paper airplanes." Just as he said that, Shawn took his now folded test and had it glide into Minkus's head.

"Ow." The scrawny blonde muttered monotonously.

"What good would it do? They keep changing geography. Why can't it be like all the other subjects? Math... 2 plus 2 is always 4. Uh, science... the Earth always goes around the Sun. History... Lincoln always gets shot in the head." Cory finished his monologue by throwing his hands in the air.

"Lincoln got off easy." I chuckled.

"You'd be surprised what people used to think about the earth." I laughed to myself, I could feel a few eyes turn to me.

The day went on without much chaos but I suppose that was wishful thinking, when I started packing up the last of my stuff when Mr. Feeny stood in the middle of the class. "All right, heads up. In these last few moments of class... I want to make an announcement... about this year's regional geography tournament. As some of you may know, for the past five years... I have always fielded a champion... and I expect to do the same this year. So, based on his outstanding scholastic achievement... I have selected as this year's entrant..." But Cory interrupted him similar to how he'd done earlier.

"Minkus. Have you selected Minkus?"

"Isn't Sunshine smarter than Minkus?" Shawn whispered to Cory who just shrugged and looked over at me.

"Mr. Minkus. And this year's first prize will be..." This time Minkus interrupted.

"A Mercator projection pull-down wall map?"

"No. Uh... This year's winner will be bat boy... at the opening game of the World Series."

I looked up at Mr. Feeny then at my boys. "Did you hear that?" Cory asked Shawn and I.

"Yeah. So?" Shawn looked completely unbothered. I had given him my sketch book and now he was colouring in all the stupid ugly little things I had drawn.

"So I'm seeing my dream come true here." Cory pleaded his case and I tried to suppress my smile at his enthusiasm as I looked over Shawn's shoulder to see how he was colouring it in. He cheekily pushed me away, attempting to keep it secret.

"Oh, right. Like Feeny's going to take you... to the geography tournament. You didn't even know... they tore down the Berlitz Wall." Shawn mumbled still colouring.

"Berlin wall, Shawnie." I mutter.

He didn't look up at me when he said "You did it again, Sunshine." I could hear the smile in his voice. Cory gagged.

+=+=+=+=+

Shawn had his arm over my shoulders as we as a group essentially kidnapped Minkus and brought him to Cory's house.

"Mom, have you met my good friend Minkus?" Cory hollered as he entered the kitchen. Everyone aside from Minkus had a fake smile plastered on our faces.

"It's nice to meet you, Minkus?" She smiled down at the blonde boy.

"Call my mother." Minkus says fearfully.

"What?" Mrs. Matthews looked at the rest of us. Shawn looked down at me. He gave me a little shove and I looked at Amy.

"He's a little nervous, Mrs. Matthews. We're gonna take him upstairs now." I say quickly. The boys led Minkus upstairs as I slowly walked up with the seven books they had me carrying.

"I'm glad you could come over, Minkus." I heard Cory say as I huffed into the room.

"Real nice to be here. Can I go now?" Minkus pleaded.

"Chill." ELlis said to Minkus, pushing him onto Cory's bed.

"I don't understand what that means." Minkus looked around the room but I was too busy trying to place the books on the desk Cory and Eric had in the back of the room.

"It means that out of every four people is a nerd. So when you look around this room... and you don't see one, you're it." Shawn responded. Just as I toppled over with the books. I looked over to see all four boys looking at me. "Or you're the embodiment of pure Sunshine." Shawn told Minkus before picking up the books for me.

"Thanks, Pup." I thanked him as I went and sat down on Eric's bed.

"But we can help you change." Ellis said as he shook his head to continue the conversation.

"Maybe I like how I am." Minkus tried to reason.

"You like everyone always making fun of you?" Ellis asked, to which Minkus said no.

"You like always being the last one picked for teams?" Cory asked and again, Mikus said no.

"You like everyone pulling your underwear up your butt all the time?" Shawn asked and Minkus replied with "It's not so bad." Everyone groaned in disgust.

"Minkus, let us help you." Shawn added a fake sincerity to his voice, I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"We're here for you, man." Ellis encouraged...or discouraged based on which way you look at it.

"It's early in the year. You can still change your image." Cory spoke calmly. These guys were starting to remind me of the guy from those infomercials. The ones that try to get you to be strange things you don't really need.

"What do I do?" Minkus looked over at me.

"The geography tournament... you don't want to do it. It'll brand you for life." I leaned forward on the bed to face the blond.

"But I love geography, my Ethiopian queen. I'm drawn by the adventure and exoticism of it. Hey. Perhaps you fellows would like to join... the Future Cartographers of America Club with me." He looked right at me as I leaned further back on the bed, shaking my head.

"Let it go, man." Ellis pleaded.

"If I don't do the tournament, will you guys like me?" Minkus asked.

"No." We all said unanimously.

"Then I don't see what's in it for me." Minkus crossed his arms over his chest.

"All right, name your price, you little creep." Shawn leered threateningly over the desk.

"I want a kiss from Raven-Anniya." Minkus said simply. I moved further away from him.

"Not happening." Shawn moved to stand beside me. Ready to attack in my honour, hence why I call him puppy. Well one of the many.

"Let the lady decide for herself." Minkus replied, confident in his charm.

"Not in a million years." I spoke plainly. Shawn squeezed my shoulder before he turned to Minkus.

"When you guys play Bombardment... could you not aim the ball at my head anymore?" Minkus negotiated, we all turned to Cory.

"Deal." The curly haired boy nodded. Shawn laid down on Eric's bed alongside me.

"What's the point of playing if we can't throw the ball at his head?" Ellis whined.

+=+=+=+=+

The boys and I were watching as Minkus walked over to our teacher. Shawn was sitting on my desk, trying to solve my Rubik's cube. Cory gagged when we smiled at each other when he got it. I told him he could.

"Mr. Feeny, I'm afraid I must tender my resignation from the geography tournament." Minkus excitedly said to Mr. Feeny.

"Mr. Minkus, I'm aware that the changing geopolitical face of the globe offers a difficult challenge." Mr. Feeny conceded as Shawn and I started to slowly slip out of the classroom. We were at the door just out of sight so we could still hear everything. Not that we were listening.

"You have dance class later, Sunshine?" He was twirling the end of my hair. I look over at him and he's leaning against the wall. I chuckled.

"Yes, Shawnie." I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Am I walking you there?" He asked, looking at my hair as he continued twisting it around his fingers.

"Depends on if you want to. You could have dinner with us. We might have tacos tonight." I replied.

"I'm not sure, I wouldn't want to disturb you guys." He was still playing with my hair. He's so weird.

"I mean, if you want to come for dinner I'm sure Brianna would be happy to let you have dinner with us." I said with a smile.

"What dance class do you have tonight?" He looked at me.

"I have hip hop, Pup." I elbowed him on the ribs.

"Why do you call me pup?" Shawn pondered out loud, my hair curling at the end of his finger. I looked at him oddly.

"You're loyal, you're playful and you have puppy eyes." I poked him on the forehead between his eyes. He smiled and pushed his forehead forward. We stayed silent. I peered into the classroom to see Feeny and Minkus just at the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Minkus. You were the only student I ever had who could locate Thrace on a map of the ancient world." Mr. Feeny said openly. He was baiting Minkus, I knew it.

Ah, that's easy. Just go north from the Aegean and... I know what you're doing, Mr. Feeny and it isn't going to... ain't going to work." Minkus concluded and walked out the door colliding with Shawn and I.

"I shall miss you, Mr. Minkus. I only wish I knew... how I was going to replace you." We waited a few minutes before walking away. If Mr. Feeny didn't throw Cory out immediately, the plan was a success.

"So...Home for tacos, Pup?" I adjusted my books in my hand before Shawn took them from me.

"Sure thing...Princess?" He tried testing a new nickname, but I hate it!

"No!" I shook my head. "If you ever call me that again, I will never talk to you ever!" He held his hands up in surrender.

"Deal...I didn't like it either. I'm just trying to even us out." I just poked him and we went to my house.

+=+=+=+=+

We walked up to the door and I immediately started taking off my shoes. "I like that you take off your shoes." Shawn said as he copied me, careful not to drop my books that he was still holding. I chuckled.

"Thanks, Pup." I replied and he smiled and followed me in. We went to the kitchen, immediately placing our bags on the floor and our books on the table. I caught Shawn observing little things I did on the daily. I don't know why he did it but I think it's funny.

"What are you going to do first?" Shawn asked, looking at all the books I had on the table. I looked at all of them before choosing math. "Aww math. I hate math!" The blue eyed boy whined.

"Why?" I asked.

"It's boring. I don't like being bored." He answered, scratching at something in his book. I laughed about it for a second before my brain started doing that thing it does that I hate. I must've looked nuts, jumping from the table and running to my room and returning with my DSM-III and a stopwatch.

"I want to do some tests." I exclaimed. Moving my chair to sit directly in front of him.

"On me?" He asked fearfully. I nodded. I wasn't easing his anxiety at all.

"You'll be fine. Just look at me." I squeezed his face. When our eyes locked, I started the stopwatch. He kept eye contact for a few seconds before he started to drift away temporarily. He was still technically looking at me but he easily turned his focus on something else. I stopped the stopwatch when he looked at the table.

One minute, thirty six seconds.

"What was the test for?" He asked, frantically looking for something under his books.

"I'll tell you when I'm done, what are you looking for?" I asked.

"My button." He crawled under the table.

"The button that popped off your shirt earlier?" I asked.

"Yeah, I was gonna ask if my mom could sew it back on." He was now on the other side of the table.

"Pup, come here." And he did. I reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out his button. "You put it there so you wouldn't forget about it."

"Oh..." He lowered his head sheepishly.

He jumped away from me when the front door opened, Brianna and Jazmyne entering the house.

"Hi, Raven. How was your day?" Brianna asked, not fully paying attention as she headed to the fridge to get dinner started.

"It was okay. Cory's being weird and I'm trying to see if Shawn has ADD/H. Speaking of which, can he stay for tacos?" I said quickly.

"Sure. Just as long as his parents say it's okay." Jazmyne mocked her mother only to receive one of Brianna's deadly glares.

"Yes, Shawn can stay. But stop treating the boy like a lab rat." I shook my head.

"I'm trying to help. Maybe I can find a way to make learning fun and help bring up his grades." I say before seeing Shawn looking at my riddle problem sheets with genuine intrigue. He's a lot smarter than he gives himself credit for. "Math time, Hunter."

He groaned, throwing his head back. "I don't wanna."

"I'll make it fun, I promise." He rolled his eyes.

"Okay, close your eyes." I say. As he does, I grab some cake. We were learning about measurements, fractions and geometric shapes...also it's Shawn and he responds well to cake.

"Okay, Shawnie. I have a cake with a radius of 4.5 inches. What's the diameter?"

He looked at the cake for a few seconds. "Is the diameter the half line or the around line?" He asked.

"The diameter is the line that would cut the cake in half, the circumference is the outline of the cake." I explained and he read my math notes.

"Nine inches?" He didn't sound sure but he was putting in an honest effort.

"Correct!" I say, cutting the cake. It came out in a nice neat triangular slice. "Now, if the entire cake is 360 degrees and this slice is 30...ish degrees, how many even slices can we make?"

+=+=+=+=+

"I thought we were going to the park?" Shawn whined, clutching an old basketball.

"Come on, man, you're studying too much. The teachers are starting to notice." Ellis said in a judgmental tone.

"Yeah, they're calling you a good student. They're saying you have potential." I said sarcastically. Not sarcastic in regards to what they said but in regards to the fact that it's a bad thing. Not that Cory was listening.

"Wow! The highest and lowest points in the continental United States are only miles apart... Death Valley and Mount Whitney. I find that extraordinary." Cory stated, clutching a magnifying glass and sniffling.

"Extraordinary?" I said in shock. The last time I heard Cory say a word that long was when we tried to sing Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

"He's mutating, man." Ellis turned to Shawn and I. I could see the little gears in Shawn's head turning as he picked up a pine cone and threw it at Cory's head.

"Ow." Cory sounded like Minkus. I jumped back quickly. Oh, that's terrifying. I grabbed Shawn's hand to head to the park when I saw Minkus walking into Cory's backyard wearing a horrendous pair of giant yellow pants.

"Hey, dudes. What's up?" He asked and Ellis decided that it wasn't worth losing his sanity to stay here.

"Too Weird for me. I'm out of here." Shawn pulled with him as he headed to our park.

When we got there we noticed that there were a few people here with their young children. We walked to the basketball net. "Is there a reason why you told me to bring this?" Holding his basketball.

"We're going to work on spelling today." I say and he groans but tosses me the ball. "Lucrative. L-U-C-R-A-T-I-V-E." for every letter I dribbled the ball. I toss the ball back to Shawn. "You got this, Pup. Lucrative. Spell it or shoot it." I pointed to the net.

We stayed out here for hours and to no one's surprise, Shawn took shots more than he spelled the words but again, he tried. That's all that mattered to me.

He may not win an international spelling bee, but he did the best he could.

#boy meets world #black oc #black reader #shawn hunter x oc

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william-quartz-nightmare58 · 1 year ago

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Recently read Five Nights at Freddy's: Fazbear Frights Graphic Novel Collection Vol 1, and to be honest, it sucked, horribly. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, but it was so lazily made and low quality it's actually disgusting, especially as a FNaF product and part of the Scholastic publishing house. Anyway, I start off with reviewing the first story in this book.

"Into The Pit"

The graphic novel remake for "Into The Pit" was genuinely so horrible it actually makes me sad. Ever character looked unexpressive and their designs were so bland. The only part about their character designs I even remotely liked was that some characters were hyper-accurate to how they were described in the short story. Outside of the that, everything looked like clip art with very little shading.

And the worst part? Spring Bonnie. His design is so inconsistent in the comic it actually makes me sad. Sometimes he'll have buttons, sometimes he won't. Sometimes he looks like classic FNaF 1 Bonnie but yellow, sometimes he looks like LadiFiszi's interpretation of the Into The Pit's Spring Bonnie. And there were two panels in the comic where you could tell that he was traced off of his design in Dawko's music video based on "Into The Pit"

Here's the panels if you're curious:

Anyway, that's my review of the "Into The Pit" comic. I give it a 2/10.

"To Be Beautiful"

Now, this graphic novel looks better, but only slightly. Though I might be bias here because I love the "To Be Beautiful" short story for what it had to offer, and I found "Into The Pit" a very weird and forgettable story, so "To Be Beautiful" had that as an advantage. Anyway, it's better (in my opinion) because there's actually proper shading so nothing looks like clip art, and this version of Eleanor (at least in my opinion) is the best official one. It's different enough from Circus Baby and kinda looks cool, the only issue I have with it is that the red hair and purple dress clash with each other and I think it would look better of the hair and dress were complementary colors.

Here is how Eleanor looks in the comic:

Outside of those, and the fact that nothing was traced off of fan made stuff, the graphic novel remake for "To Be Beautiful" was kinda average, though its flaws are very notable. Sometimes, dialogue don't align with their bubbles, sometimes characters say stuff the opposite character should be saying, and there's a bit of broken shading here and there.

All in all, I'll give the "To Be Beautiful" graphic novel a 6/10.

"Out of Stock"

Now this might be a hot take, but this my favorite one in the book. The reason I say that is because of how strange the art style for "Out of Stock" is. It doesn't really feel like it should be in an official FNaF graphic novel.

Here are some of the visuals:

See what I mean? Anyway, the reason I love this one out of the other comics is because it's my favorite story in the book, it's genuinely scary-looking, and is the most artistic one of the three comics.

First off, I just love the story, so the "Out of Stock" comic already gets points for that. The Plushtrap Chaser is a really creepy monster and I just love the ending a lot.

Next, despite the fact that "Out of Stock" looks so strange and the Plushtrap Chaser looks like... whatever that thing is, it still manages to create extremely creepy imagery. For those that don't know, the main monster in "Out of Stock" is a Plushtrap-like doll with human eyes and teeth and is extremely hostile. And despite the fact that the Plushtrap Chaser in this comic looks the way it does with it's dot eyes and extremely long teeth, it still uses that to be very creepy. Again, here's an example of a scene near the end:

As you can see here, the artist took advantage of their style and turned the Plushtrap Chaser into an eldridge horror beyond comprehension.

But even though I've only sung this comic praises, it still has flaws. There are some parts in the comic where there's just straight up no shading, the design of some characters are very inconsistent, and again, the art style just feels a bit out of place in an official FNaF graphic novel.

I think I'll give "Out of Stock" a 7/10.

I guess that's the end of my review of Five Nights at Freddy's: Fazbear Frights Graphic Novel Collection Vol 1. To anyone who took the time to read this whole thing, thank y'all for doing so. This is the longest post I've ever did, so I heavily appreciate it if you took some time to see this.

See y'all later!

#fnaf books #fnaf #fnaf fazbear frights #fnaf graphic novel

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easchool · 8 months ago

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How Strong Planning Skills Can Power Learning Outcomes of Students?

Might you at any point shuffle scholarly daily practice, project cutoff times, after-school exercises, and more while blindfolded? It could seem like a catastrophe waiting to happen, yet it is definitively the number of understudies that explore their scholastic process. At the point when each action is confined and not woven together for a significant greater picture, it is normal to scramble wildly without a second to spare for pretty much every test fuelled by nervousness and stress. We at Excelsior American School, positioned among the Top schools in Gurgaon, addressed various understudies to plunge further into the underlying driver of these issues and found one normal guilty party - an absence of vigorous arranging abilities.

It could seem like a customary capacity yet is the secret key to progress. Solid arranging abilities can assist understudies with eliminating the blindfolded disarray and make a reasonable, intentional, and coordinated guide to open their most elevated potential. In the event that you're considering how simple arranging abilities hold such a lot of force, the accompanying focuses will give you better lucidity.

Better Time Management

Solid arranging abilities assist understudies with dealing with their time successfully, supporting a decent daily practice. In the event that understudies have a great deal for they to handle, being purposeful about their time can help them in each part of their life. For instance, they can utilize their arranging abilities to dispense sufficient chance to review, go to online classes/educational cost, do schoolwork, practice a side interest, participate in relaxation exercises, and that's just the beginning, guaranteeing they don't pass up anything significant.

This authoritative methodology empowers understudies to connect better with their learning material to all the more likely comprehend, ingest, and hold the data, rather than acquiring superficial data on any subject.

Purpose-Driven Goal Setting

We at Excelsior American School immovably accept that objective setting is a critical part areas of strength for of. Understudies can use it to get an unmistakable internal compass in their scholastic process. They can start by laying out short and long haul objectives that go about as inspirational achievements that keep understudies walking forward. For example, to score qualification in all subjects in the impending test, they should lay out reasonable objectives around their review schedule, exertion, and review hours.

As they continue to accomplish those objectives, they will encounter a feeling of achievement that will urge them to keep following the next activity plan illustrated for the ensuing objective. This approach assists understudies with zeroing in more on the learning stage rather than the ultimate result, essentially further developing their opportunities for growth.

Effective Task Prioritization

Solid arranging abilities are interwoven with task prioritization capacities. In this way, in the event that an understudy has mind boggling arranging abilities, he/she is bound to be normally great at task prioritization in view of significance and cutoff times. It empowers understudies to zero in on testing subjects from the get-go, completing tasks with maybe some time to spare, and so forth, while cultivating a more profound comprehension of the embraced point.

We urge every one of our understudies to serious areas of strength for foster abilities since we accept it will show them how to zero in on important, high-need undertakings without feeling overpowered, restless, and pushed. The capacity to focus on inside a very much organized plan advances a precise and more coordinated way to deal with learning - the one that adds to further developed understanding and generally speaking scholastic achievement.

Consistent Study Habits

Nothing beats consistency. Accordingly, it ought to continuously be the center focal point of any action. We have seen that when understudies start utilizing their arranging abilities to enhance their growth opportunities, particularly scholarly driven ones, they find it more straightforward to lay out a reliable example of commitment with learning materials. This consistency supports the comprehension and maintenance of ideas since they are updated efficiently.

We likewise accept that consistency helps with framing viable propensities that make learning a normal piece of day to day existence. It brings about empowering understudies to keep focused, try not to defer work in view of tarrying, and support a consistent speed of scholarly advancement.

Improved Adaptability

In spite of the generally accepted, areas of strength for confusion abilities don't advance making an unbending system. All things considered, it expects people to make an adaptable system that can be changed quickly founded on the current situation or accumulated data sources or results from past cycles. Understudies areas of strength for with abilities generally make versatile structures that elevate making informed acclimations to the review routine or approach.

It fundamentally involves making a very much planned plan with regular self-evaluation breaks. Thus, on the off chance that an understudy is following a review approach that isn't adding to accomplishing the ideal objective, they can change it for substantial enhancements. This adaptability guarantees that understudies can without much of a stretch adjust to the developing scholarly scene by refining their review strategies and tending to regions that request uplifted consideration.

Conclusion

Everybody needs better command over their day to day daily practice and generally speaking way to deal with life, yet a couple get to accomplish it. This is particularly valid for understudies who make an honest effort to enhance their opportunities for growth however frequently don't get the potential chances to accomplish it. In such manner, we at Excelsior American School, viewed as one of the best schools in Gurgaon, solidly accept that while there are various ways of conquering these difficulties, creating solid arranging abilities stands apart as the most reasonable choice. Arranging isn't about only getting sorted out undertakings however diagramming a clear cut guide to progress. So make progress toward cultivating and leveling up this significant ability and receive its rewards over the course of life.

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cocolemon26 · 1 year ago

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Getting Through the Last Chapter: A Senior High School Perspective

As my time in junior high school comes to an end, I find myself on the edge of an important new chapter in my life. My time at senior high school has been nothing transformative; it was full of lessons learned, obstacles to overcome, and experiences that will always be carved in the walls of my mind.

Moving on to senior high school was a significant turning point in my academic and personal life. The burden of approaching maturity and its accompanying responsibilities appeared huge. Where the underclassmen's laughter had formerly filled the halls, there was now a sense of gravity and expectancy. As seniors, it was expected of us to lead by example and serve as the school's beacons. It was with a mixed feeling of pride and responsibility that they realized they were the leaders of the school community.

Senior high school offered a whole new academic landscape. Subject matter got more complicated, and there was increasing pressure to do well on tests. I had never had to be as organized or time-efficient as I was in order to balance extracurricular activities, many classes, and the approaching college applications. Textbooks and the illumination of my laptop screen on late evenings became the norm. But in the middle of scholastic difficulties, I learned the skill of resilience. Each test failure served as a reminder to persevere and that success frequently comes from overcoming obstacles.

Even more interesting than the academic realm were the social aspects associated with being a senior. New relationships were formed, and old friendships that had withstood the test of time were reinforced. Class barriers appeared to dissolve as seniors with a range of interests and experiences gathered to celebrate the common experience of turning a new page in life. Seniors' friendships created a supportive atmosphere and a feeling of solidarity in the face of the uncertain future that lay ahead of us.

The senior year was not without its difficulties, though. Anxiety was brought on by the impending uncertainty of college applications and the idea of leaving the comfortable cocoon of high school. We were under a lot of pressure to make decisions about our next ventures. The corridors that used to feel like home appeared to be a transitory sanctuary, and the idea of saying goodbye to the structure and comfort of high school elicited conflicting feelings.

Despite the difficulties, senior year also served as a platform for personal growth. I was able to discover my interests and strong points because of the abundance of extracurricular activities, leadership positions, and academic endeavors. I discovered parts of myself via the highs and lows that had been dormant. Despite all of its concerns, the senior year offered a blank canvas for self-expression and personal development.

To sum up, senior high school has been a journey weaved with strands of growth, friendships, obstacles, and self-discovery. The combination of social dynamics, academic demands, and approaching maturity have molded me into the person I am now. Together with the knowledge I have studied in the classroom, I am also bringing with me the priceless lessons I have learned from experience as I get ready to enter the world after high school. This senior year has been a moving chapter that has bridged the gap between childhood and maturity, giving me the tools, resilience, and self-awareness I need for the road ahead.

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cruger2984 · 1 year ago

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THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT JOHN BERCHMANS The Young Jesuit Scholastic Feast Day: August 13 (until 1969), November 26 (after 1969)

"To merit the protection of Mary, the smallest act of veneration would be enough, provided that it is performed with constancy."

St. John Berchmans was born in Diest, Belgium (in Flanders - part of the Seventeen Provinces, now in present Flemish Brabant) of very pious parents. His father was a shoemaker and three of their five children entered religious life. John studied in the local school and lived in the rectory of Notre Dame parish with other boys interested in the priesthood where he learn to pray and to serve Mass. When his father could no longer afford his education and withdrew him from school, John was very disappointed as he knew that he could never become a priest. The pastor of the Diest Beguinage offered to take John into his house as a servant and pay for his education in return. Later John served in Canon Froymont's household in Mechlin, served at tables, ran errands and care for other boarders. It was tough work after a full day in class but John’s desire to become a priest spurred him on.

In 1615, when the Society opened its college in Mechlin, John transferred there, met the Jesuits and decided to join them rather than the diocesan priesthood. As a novice, he performed all the prescribed duties with joy and exactness. He learned self control and not yield to instinct. Nothing was too small or humiliating for him as everything was the will of God. His mother died in 1616 and his father gave up his shoemaker shop and entered the diocesan seminary and was ordained a priest in 1618. Not only was Alphonsus now without family but his cloth business began to decline due to heavy taxes levied on exporting wool products that he was finally forced to give it up.

John began his philosophy in Antwerp in 1618, but was sent to study at the Roman college soon after. He was faithful to his religious duties and studies and did so well that when he concluded his philosophy in 1621, he was asked to defend his course in a public disputation. His health suffered during his studies and deteriorated while preparing for the disputation. After the disputation, he was to represent the Roman College at another disputation at the Greek College and the day after this he had his first attack of dysentery followed by fever which persisted. His superior sent him to the infirmary when he became pale and weak but his illness grew worse and feeble when his lungs became inflamed.

When it was clear that John was quickly slipping away, the whole Jesuit community came in procession bringing the Last sacrament to its dying brother. After receiving the Lord, John asked to be anointed. Everyone was in tears; John alone was calm, asked for his crucifix, rosary, and rule book and said: 'These are the three things most dear to me; with them I willingly die.'

The next day he endured a stream of Jesuits and classmates coming to see him for the last time. Fr. General also paid him a visit. John spent his last night on earth in prayer. The following morning, August 13, 1621, when the Jesuit community heard the tolling of the bell at 8.30, they knew that John was in Paradise.

It was the simplicity of John's life that made him attractive. His rector wrote: 'What we universally admired in him was that in all the virtues he showed himself perfect and that, with the help of divine grace, to which he responded his utmost, he performed all his actions with all the perfection that can be imagined.'

The Jesuits in Rome were convinced that John was a saint, and within a year after his death they began gathering data to be used for his beatification. Extraordinary accomplishments are not required for holiness. It was John Berchmans' ordinary deeds done extraordinarily well that brought him to sanctity.

John is beatified on May 9, 1865 by Pope Pius IX, and canonized a saint on January 15, 1888 by Pope Leo XIII.

Source: The Jesuits Prayer Ministry Singapore

#random stuff #catholic #catholic saints #jesuits #society of jesus #john berchmans

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richincolor · 2 years ago

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New Releases

Five new books coming out this week, including the highly anticipated sequel to the romance we all loved "Love from A to Z." I swear I wasn't going to buy any more books for the rest of the year because my TBR pile is about to topple over, but some of these look to interesting to pass up.

We Are the Scribes by Randi Pink Feiwel Friends

Ruth Fitz is surrounded by activism. Her mother is a senator who frequently appears on CNN as a powerful Black voice fighting for legislative social change within the Black community. Her father, a professor of African American history, is a walking encyclopedia, spouting off random dates and events. And her beloved older sister, Virginia, is a natural activist, steadily gaining notoriety within the community and on social media. Ruth, on the other hand, would rather sit quietly reading or writing in her journal.

When her family is rocked by tragedy, Ruth stops writing. As life goes on, Ruth’s mother is presented with a political opportunity she can’t refuse. Just as Senator Fitz is more absent, Ruth begins receiving parchment letters with a seal reading WE ARE THE SCRIBES, sent by Harriet Jacobs, the author of the autobiography and 1861 American classic, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl.

Is Ruth dreaming? How has she been chosen as a “scribe” when she can barely put a sentence together? In a narrative that blends present with past, Randi Pink explores two extraordinary characters who channel their hopelessness and find their voices to make history.

Love from Mecca to Medina (Love from A to Z #2) by S.K. Ali Salaam Reads

Adam and Zayneb. Perfectly matched. Painfully apart. Adam is in Doha, Qatar, making a map of the hijrah, a historic migration from Mecca to Medina and worried about where his next paycheck will come from. Zayneb is in Chicago, where school and extracurricular stresses are piling on top of a terrible frenemy situation and making her miserable.

Then a marvel occurs: Adam and Zayneb get the chance to spend Thanksgiving week on the Umrah, a pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina in Saudi Arabia, tracing the hijrah in real life, together. Adam’s thrilled, and Zayneb hopes for a spiritual reset—and they can’t wait to see each other.

But the trip is nothing like what they expect, from the appearance of Adam’s ex in their traveling group to the anxiety gripping Zayneb everywhere they go. And as one wedge after another drives them apart as they make their way from one holy city to another, Adam and Zayneb start to wonder: was their meeting just an oddity after all? Or can their love transcend everything else like the greatest marvels of the world?

Beneath the Wide Silk Sky by Emily Inouye Huey Scholastic

Sam Sakamoto doesn’t have space in her life for dreams. With the recent death of her mother, Sam’s focus is the farm, which her family will lose if they can’t make one last payment. There’s no time for her secret and unrealistic hope of becoming a photographer, no matter how skilled she’s become. But Sam doesn’t know that an even bigger threat looms on the horizon.

On December 7, 1941, Japanese airplanes attack the US naval base at Pearl Harbor. Fury towards Japanese Americans ignites across the country. In Sam’s community in Washington State, the attack gives those who already harbor prejudice an excuse to hate.

As Sam’s family wrestles with intensifying discrimination and even violence, Sam forges a new and unexpected friendship with her neighbor Hiro Tanaka. When he offers Sam a way to resume her photography, she realizes she can document the bigotry around her — if she’s willing to take the risk. When the United States announces that those of Japanese descent will be forced into “relocation camps,” Sam knows she must act or lose her voice forever. She engages in one last battle to leave with her identity — and her family — intact.

Emily Inouye Huey movingly draws inspiration from her own family history to paint an intimate portrait of the lead-up to Japanese incarceration, racism on the World War II homefront, and the relationship between patriotism and protest in this stunningly lyrical debut.

Night of the Raven, Dawn of the Dove by Rati Mehrota Wednesday Books

Katyani’s role in the kingdom of Chandela has always been clear: becoming an advisor and protector of the crown prince, Ayan, when he ascends to the throne. Bound to the Queen of Chandela through a forbidden soul bond that saved her when she was a child, Katyani has grown up in the royal family and become the best guardswoman the Garuda has ever seen. But when a series of assassination attempts threatens the royals, Katyani is shipped off to the gurukul of the famous Acharya Mahavir as an escort to Ayan and his cousin, Bhairav, to protect them as they hone the skills needed to be the next leaders of the kingdom. Nothing could annoy Katyani more than being stuck in a monastic school in the middle of a forest, except her run-ins with Daksh, the Acharya’s son, who can’t stop going on about the rules and whose gaze makes her feel like he can see into her soul.

But when Katyani and the princes are hurriedly summoned back to Chandela before their training is complete, tragedy strikes and Katyani is torn from the only life she has ever known. Alone and betrayed in a land infested by monsters, Katyani must find answers from her past to save all she loves and forge her own destiny. Bonds can be broken, but debts must be repaid.

Drizzle, Dreams, and Lovestruck Things (Songbird Inn #1) by Maya Prasad Disney-Hyperion

Four sisters, four seasons, four flavors of romance.

The Singh sisters grew up helping their father navigate the bustle of the Songbird Inn. Nestled on dreamy and drizzly Orcas Island in the Pacific Northwest, the inn’s always been warm and cozy and filled with interesting guests—the perfect home. But things are about to heat up now that the Songbird has been named the Most Romantic Inn in America.

Nidhi has everything planned out—until a storm brings a wayward tree crashing into her life one autumn . . . and along with it, an intriguing construction worker and a yearning for her motherland. Suddenly, she’s questioning everything she thought she wanted.

Avani can’t sit still. If she does, her grief for Pop, their dad’s late husband, will overwhelm her. So she keeps moving as much as she can, planning an elaborate Winter Ball in Pop’s memory. Until a blizzard traps her in a barn with the boy she accidentally stood up and has been actively avoiding ever since.

Sirisha loves seeing the world through her camera, but her shyness prevents her from stepping out from behind the lens. Talking to girls is such a struggle! When a pretty actress comes to the Songbird with her theater troupe, spring has sprung for Sirisha—if only she can find the words.

Rani is a hopeless romantic through and through. After gently nudging her sisters to open their hearts, she is convinced it’s finally her turn to find love. When two potential suitors float in on a summer breeze, Rani is swept up in grandeur to match her wildest Bollywood dreams. But which boy is the one she’s meant to be with?

Ultimately, the magic of the Songbird Inn leads the tight-knit Singh sisters to new passions and breathtaking kisses—and to unearth the truest versions of themselves.

#new releases #weneeddiversebooks

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sinagrace · 4 years ago

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On the subject of marvel comics ...

If we’re gonna talk about how Marvel does literally nothing about giving a leg up to marginalized creators and staff members, I’ve got another story to tell. Towards the end of my time there, I’d been getting a sense that marvel editors were lying about keeping me in mind for projects after iceman, and the following incident sealed the deal in terms of being told (not in any legally binding way) that I had overstayed my welcome at the house of ideas. Sometime in 2018, an editor at a different publishing house asked if I’d pitch for an all-ages Spider-Man book they were licensed to produce. Considering I saw CB Cebulski have a conniption at a comic con party when another Marvel Comics writer told him he’d been courted to do the same for avengers, I asked that editorial to make absolutely sure marvel was cool with me pitching for this project. The editor got approval, and I wrote a damn good idea that was on the fast track to being the next arc in the series. For those who aren’t familiar, when you’re not a household name, pitching for a legacy character is quite a bit of work. Given my lifelong love of Spider-Man, it wasn’t exactly grueling to come up with a handful of ideas and then properly outline the one my editor liked the most… but it’s still work. All that being said, I felt great about the final document, and that I’d bought myself a few more months of being Marvel-adjacent so I could continue growing my reputation for being known for my writing chops, and rinse off the notion that I was ever anyone’s diversity hire. Cut to a few weeks later, and my editor tells me that I can’t be used for the series. The exact words he relayed from Marvel were: “they’d like to keep the focus on iceman for now.” That e-mail came in the day I turned in my last script for Iceman. I reached out to Marvel’s talent relations guy, and he got me on the phone to explain a completely different reason why I was taken off the book: he said that Marvel only wanted people with experience in all-ages because there were different formatting rules than what goes into a standard comic script (a half truth that doesn’t matter when you read the next sentence). I mentioned that I did an all-ages book for Simon and Schuster, a middle grade series for Image Comics, short stories for Boom Studios, and edited an all-ages title for Robert Kirkman. The talent relations guy was like, “Oh, I didn’t know all that.” He then went on to say that Marvel had a list of people they wanted this editor to approach and as a result some wires got crossed and thus I was out of several months’ work. He didn’t offer to fix the problem, he didn’t offer to throw me on any number of space-filler mini-series that were just basically keeping Jonathan Hickman’s seat warm… nothing. In response, I said to the talent relations guy: “Do you believe what you’re telling me?” He didn’t have a particularly good answer. Oh if you’re wondering: like NONE of the writers who did end up getting hired for these all-ages titles had legitimate experience with all-ages material. They’re all great writers and some of them are my homies, but it’s not like they came from scholastic or random house. All of this is to say: I went above and beyond to make sure I was approved to pitch on a project, I worked my butt off and wrote something my editor was incredibly enthusiastic about, and then I magically got unpicked and wasn’t offered a reasonable explanation, a substitute gig, or a kill fee for the work I had put in on the proposal. Thanks, Marvel. This whole debacle wasn’t included in a piece I wrote last year because the editor I was working with asked me not to. Given that his relationship with Marvel was already tenuous, he didn’t really need more pressure/ stress. This guy went to bat for me and helped get me one of my favorite gigs, and having been in his position as an editor dealing with multiple bureaucracies, I didn’t want to make his life any harder. But he’s no longer at that company, and he gave me permission to bring this up. So here we are. I hate that I’m once again in a position where I have to call out Marvel on some BS, because I don’t know that anything positive will come from it, and that everything I’ve done in my career will once again be boiled down to: “semi-attractive queer comic creator complains about marvel comics.” Like, never mind that I’ve been at this since I was in high school, ran Kirkman’s imprint on my own before I was 25, and have gone on to write almost all of my favorite DC Comics characters after leaving Marvel. It’s shitty to be an individual talking about a beloved company... but it’s the right thing to do. The only thing I can 100% predict will happen from me speaking up is: a bunch of haters are going to get back on my dick again and make social media unbearable. To those folks, my birthday is on Monday… can you maybe not? Just this once? Stories like what I've written need to be considered when discussing if Marvel has actually done anything to be accountable for not only hiring more diversely, but for fostering an environment where those people feel valued. My only advice to Marvel would be: fucking hire a third party organization to teach you all how to do this right… you can’t keep propping Sana up on a podium and pat yourselves on the back for doing half of the bare minimum. I hate that I still love your books (I spent good money buying the oversized Silver Surfer Black collection), and I just wish that the gatekeepers were a bit more responsible and cognizant of how deep their behavior and apathy cuts. Granted, this is a company that has a bad reputation for not treating anybody fairly, so there is always the argument that Marvel Comics is just run by a box of pythons who indiscriminately poison and devour folks. I’m not sure... after 18 months away from them, I still try to excuse the bad behavior and blame myself for how things went down.

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years ago

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Hello Everyone! I've been conspiring with @sammy-jo1977 to create a new series of sorts. We want to explore all those characters that started us on our journey into Fandoms, large and small.

This series will be a place for those ladies and gents who haven't had a lot of attention recently, are old favorites or the ones you can't seem to shake. If you would like to contribute a chapter to this guide, please send me a message! We want to have a full and accurate guide, so we are hoping you'll hop in with your character of expertise!

As an example, I'm posting our first story... I'd love to get your thoughts! With Love - Your WordyNerdyGurl

In The Stacks - A Rupert Giles Story

Author’s Note: This story is due, in large part, to my beta-bestie @sammy-jo1977 and it is part of the afore mentioned series. This character might be off television, but his fiery spirit lives on!! As always, reblogs/ shares are encouraged as are comments and love!

Pairing: Female Reader x Giles (Buffy The Vampire Slayer Series) Summary: You get up to mischief with the librarian, in the stacks. Warnings: SMUT ahead. General Buffy knowledge might help, but is not required. There’s a moment with a bit of blood, but hopefully nothing too triggering for anyone! I hope you enjoy!

“Mr. Giles?” “Just a moment!” You heard the clipped British voice answer before being drowned out by the heavy thumping of falling books and the rustling sound of shifting papers hitting the floor. As you stepped further into the Sunnydale High library, you weren’t surprised to see the familiar faces of Buffy, Willow, Xander and Cordelia huddled around a small table. The friends were practically inseparable and clearly close. You found their kinship adorable and couldn’t help smiling at the group as you drew closer. “Hello to some of my best students! And of course, to you Mr. Harris. How is everyone today?”

Willow, stalwart student and overachiever, smiled broadly, “Pretty good. I did ace my math quiz and got an A on my English paper… but, well, I only pulled a B on my Bio test and I just know that I could have done better.” Offering her friend a consoling pat to the shoulder, Buffy sighed, “It’s ok, Will. You’ll get those cells next time!” “Tune in next week as Willow passes her AP Biology test with flying colors, on ‘As Sunnydale Turns’!” Before anyone could counter, Giles came around the corner carrying a sturdy stack of texts which he dropped onto the table as gently as the large load allowed, “As always, you four are the best assistants a librarian could ask for.” “Come on Giles! You know I only hang out here for the beautiful ladies!” Pinching the bridge of his strong nose, Rupert Giles sighed, “I am well aware of where your interests lie, Xander.” “Please, he can hardly handle being with one beautiful girl.” That was from Cordelia who pouted prettily, her hand mirror open as she fixed her hair. “My girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen! Thanks for that, Cordy.” Snapping the case shut, staring down her beau, she smiled, “You’re welcome.” “Uh, Mr. Giles, if I may?” You hated to interrupt but you had come in with a purpose and you meant to see it through. “Yes, of course, how can I help?” Shuffling your feet, a bit nervous now with the asking, you smiled shyly, “I asked at the local library but they were absolutely no help. You see, I’m looking for a specific point of reference and I was led to believe that you could help me.” “Oh! Is it something for our Inner Vision collage boards? I love working on mine, only… It’s not my fault that I only see dark clouds and blood when I close my eyes.” “Well, Miss Summers, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And the best art challenges us to see that beauty.” “I hate to tell you what I see when I close my eyes.” Xander retorted. “Ah, Mr. Harris, your collage certainly showcases your, ahem, cultured world view.” “Hey! The Simpsons are fine art, ok? Just because they don’t live in a museum doesn’t mean they aren’t culture.” Giles, unable to stand by any longer griped, “Xander, I am almost positive that cartoons do not count as culture.” You started to answer but Buffy cut you short, adding, “Don’t mind Giles. If it doesn’t come out of some dirty, dusty old book it can’t be culture.” “It’s pop culture! The entertainment of my generation!” It was your turn to cut in, turning to the tweed clad gentleman, “Actually, Mr. Giles, Xander has a point. Cartoons and animation in general are all increasingly seen as valid forms of art. No matter what your tomes might tell you.” Smirking a little, he appraised your answer before replying, “Be that as it may, Mr. Harris, the amount of television you consume is corrosive.” Raising his hands in defense, Xander’s head swiveled between the two of you as Willow chimed in, “Give it up, Xander. You know you’ll never win and besides, I’m pretty sure that animation and art are different. Wait. They are, aren’t they?” “When I was in Rome last summer, the very attractive, very Italian tour guide told us that they’ve found painted graffiti on the Coliseum. It only goes to prove that times change but people don’t.” “Cordy’s right! About the art, not the dishy Italian. And they didn’t paint it, they carved it.” Bouncing her blonde hair decisively, Buffy made her declaration. “Wouldn’t paint be easier? I mean, who wants to carry a chisel in order to deface a wall?” “Oh! Oh! I know this! The kind of paint needed to last for centuries hadn’t been invented yet!” Willow, lifting out of her seat in the excitement of academic excellence, was giddy. “Yes, Willow, that is correct. In fact, a lot of the graffiti is simple and very crude. Mostly of the phallus, if memory serves. I’m sure I can find a documented case in Agrippa if you’ll all just-” And you watched as everyone rolled their eyes as Giles trailed off, lost now in the hunt for a specific volume which could be sited, should further proof be needed. “Ew. Pass.” “I’m with Buffy here, Giles. Keep your Grecian graffiti out of my brain.” “I’ll stick with the Simpsons, thank you very much.” “Yes, well. It’s not Grecian at all, is it? It’s Roman-” Smiling broadly, Buffy hopped off the table, “Giles is right. The Greeks were more into orgies!” “Buffy!” Willow’s shocked response made you cover a laugh with a fake cough. “-Of course, cites are rare. Very difficult to find documentation.” Giles, typically, hadn’t given up the search. Cutting through the chatter, louder than it ever needed to be, the period bell sounded. "Ugh. Gym class for me. Why is this even a thing?" "I don't know Buffy, I thought you liked showing off in your little shorts and beating the boys at basketball." "Cordy, that's enough. And while us boys do love looking at you, Buff... we don't love the beatings you regularly deliver." "Well, I have a free period Giles! Do you want me to stay and -" Snapping shut the leather book he was gripping, Giles caught your eye and turned to the peppy student, "Uh, no Willow, I don't think so. I believe I need to see what our Art Department is in need of at the moment." With a shrug, Willow began packing up her belongings as Xander slung his back back over his shoulder, "Will, you can come with me. I'm going to find a nice little corner, under a tree, and sleep away my study hall." “But, I… I could help find the Agrippa? Or… some other old Roman book?” Xander wrapped an arm around Willow and took Cordelia’s open hand, “But why do that when nothing calls?” "Another fine example of your scholastic aptitude, Mr. Harris", was your parting shot at the foursome as they walked out the door. "Well. Mr. Giles, now that we’re alone… Could I talk you into helping me out?" “Of course, of course.” Pushing his glasses further up his nose, fixing his light eyes on yours, “What are we looking for?” Sighing deeply, knowing the chances were slim, “I was hoping we would find some examples of Pre-Columbian deity carvings.” Pausing, his look serious, Giles peered at you, “Interesting. Anything in particular?” “Yes, actually.” Again you flushed, more than a little flustered at what you were really looking for, “I’m researching fertility icons.” Raising his eyebrows, Giles started, more than a little outside of his comfort zone, but you had to give him credit. He recovered from the shock rather quickly, “Oh… I… I see. Well yes, I’m sure we can find… something. If you’ll follow me, please.” “I’m right behind you.” Biting into your bottom lip, you smiled to yourself. Right behind Mr. Giles? What a place to be. Giles led the young art teacher through the deepest stacks of the library, pausing once or twice to confirm that she was keeping up with him. He was ashamed to admit that he had lost travelers a time or two as he stalked through his overstuffed shelves, knowing instinctively where to find the book he needed most. For her, watching the tweed covered bottom of Mr. Giles was no hardship. True, he was older and tad bit reserved in the best British way, yet she had the sneaking suspicion that underneath all the wool and starched cotton was the heart of a wild man poet. "Uh... just a bit further, I'm afraid. Books like this, well, I keep them at a greater remove." "It makes sense. Don't want the kiddos getting a hold of anything too tantalizing." "Of course not. As you well know, they don't need much help in the libidinous response department." You chuckled softly, nodding as the air around you grew stuffier, "Too true! You should see what some of them turn in and call art. It would make a blind man blush." And at the mention of blushing, you were shocked to see a rosy hue grow on Mr. Giles' cheeks. You liked it. It reminded you of the high color in a Vermeer painting. You couldn’t help the flutter in your belly at the thought, "Mr. Giles, have you ever seen a South American fertility statue?" "I can't say that I have... have... have you?" Something about the idea of you examining an ancient artifact directly connected to sexual congress made his body stir. "Hmm... Oh, yes. I was able to study in Mexico for a semester. Some of the art work is just incredible and the carvings, they're truly magnificent. Carefully made. Usually stone or..." swallowing hard, your throat suddenly dry, "hard wood." Breaking fast at the implication in your words, Giles froze in place which caused you to press directly against his broad, vest covered back. You had a second to register the soft scent of his aftershave; something spicy and masculine, which made your mouth water. Moaning quietly, you offered a weak apology, “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Giles.” Offering you his profile, the bookcases too cramped for him to turn around fully, you saw his sweet smile, “That’s… that’s quite alright. In fact, we’re here.” Stepping out of the way, you pushed back against the opposite wall, the shelves digging into your spine in the confined space. Giles bent over, giving you a great view of his backside, as he extracted a slim book from the bottommost ledge. When he stood up, directly in front of you, the narrow, book covered alcove caused him to stumble. Giles’ chest collided with your own, forcing the air out of your lungs. Instinctively, you lifted a leg, curling it over the swell of one trousered hip and lifting the hem of your knee length plaid kilt. Nose to nose in a compromising position, you exhaled a shaky breath as Mr. Giles inhaled, “Close quarters around here.” Shifting under his deceptively hard figure, it was difficult to ignore all the places that were firm to the touch, especially when you could feel so much through the thin barrier of your cotton panties. Bracing one arm on the obliging shelf biting into your shoulder, Giles pushed back a bit, lifting his weight off of you without making any other attempts to move away. He was so close now. Close enough to feel your fuzzy sweater and all the soft skin that trembled beneath it. Close enough to see the pound of your pulse in your throat. Close enough that when you licked over your bottom lip Giles could almost taste it too. And why shouldn’t he? “Giles?” Your voice was whisper soft, fanning hotly over the face of your colleague. “Uh… yes?” “I’m stuck.” Blinking behind his thick lenses, it took the normally quick witted Brit a second to process your words, “You’re stuck?” Nodding slowly, your hair curling over your cheek, “My… My skirt. It’s… uh, caught. Caught on something behind me.” “Good heavens! I’m so sorry, let me help you.” Slowly, Giles lowered your bare leg to the floor, his hand lingering for a second longer than absolutely necessary. He was still in your space. Still incredibly close to you. You arched away from the bookcase in an attempt to free yourself with a groan that sounded heady in the stuffy stacks. All you managed to do was force your sweater covered décolletage into Giles’ chest. Stammering, a wave of sweat breaking over his brow, “Allow me?” The way your skirt was caught pulled the bright plaid lower on your waist than you would normally consider decent. It meant that you had a fleshy strip of skin exposed along your tummy and Giles raised his eyebrows by means of asking permission to touch you. “Yea, yes. Please!” Tentatively, gently, you felt the strong fingers of Rupert Giles circle your waist and shivered at the unfamiliar familiarity of his touch. Your chin rested on his shoulder as he worked and you couldn’t help sighing when he opened his hands and pulled you closer. Under other circumstances you might have misunderstood the embrace but you were both professionals. Not that you hadn’t considered the handsome book guardian a time or two before. “I… I think we’re almost there. If you’ll just, maybe to the right?” “Um, sure.” Following his directions you twisted in his arms, trying hard not to tear your outfit or rub against Giles. All the close contact and talk of fertility gods had you feeling a little aroused and it wouldn’t do for your colleague to learn that fact. With a triumphant grunt, Giles set you free, only for gravity to kick back in. The momentum created by your falling took the gentleman and the entire Grollier’s Gothic Almanac collection with you. A cascade of papers, scrolls and dust rained down on you both. Coughing, aware that you were laying on something softer than the floor, you struggled into a sitting position, swatting away clouds of disintegrated pages, “Rupert? Are you alright?” From beneath you a rumbling grumble that sounded like, “Yes quite… you?” was heard. It was then that you realized exactly where you were. Straddling your friendly neighborhood librarian, surrounded by debris, but safe, all the same. “Oh my! I’m so-” “No, No. Please, don’t apologize. I’ve been meaning to reorganize this section and well, now it seems I’ve got no choice.” “You’ve got a bump. Right here…” Just over his right eye a small bruised egg, the color of lilacs, was starting to rise and you gingerly touched the swelling spot. “Then it will match the one on the back of my head perfectly.” “Poor Giles! All of this injury in the name of research!” “No one ever tells you the dangers one might encounter in the library.” His dry British wit sent you both into giggles and suddenly nothing could be funnier than the moment you were in with Mr. Giles. Looking up at you, his fingertip traced over your cheek, suddenly serious, “I’m not the only one with a war wound, it appears.” “Oh?” Your hand covered his as you realized that you had a small cut, bleeding just a little, over the apple of your jaw. Smoothing his thumb over your injury, Giles soothed you, saying, “Hush now, I think you’ll live.” And you watched as Giles sucked the drop of scarlet from the pad there, his green eyes on yours, daring you. Something about it was so… sinful. So dark. So alluring. Then his lips were on yours, suddenly and savagely. Hands, firm and capable, slid under the fluff of your sweater along your spine as you tangled your own in his dark hair. Giles, drawing you near, was satisfied only when you were splayed over him, writhing between the piles of text and stacks of piled paperbacks, as his tongue plundered your mouth. Trapped by his bent knees at your bottom, Giles helped center you over the firmness of his excitement, teasing you as you moaned, “Oh, oh Rupert!” “Call me Ripper.” Before the word had left your throat, Giles was sloppily kissing over your neck, sucking lightly on the skin revealed by the v-neck of your top. Sitting up quickly, you lifted the soft sweater over your head, tossing it away from you without concern. Like one of the teenagers you might chastise, you then hugged your lover tight, gasping when you felt the nip of teeth over your bra. “Giles… Uh, Ripper! Please, go easy?” With a hard grip on your upper thigh and one hand on the back of your neck, Giles held you still, smirking, “If you wanted easy you shouldn’t have come looking for fertility icons, my dear little art teacher. And if this particular article of clothing-” He paused long enough to pinch at your hardening nipple before continuing, “-is dear to you, take it off.” Clenching your abdominals at his crass language, more turned on that you could remember, you reached behind you. Unhooking the pretty scrap of lace and satin, you shyly covered yourself, biting into your bottom lip, “Fine… Ripper. Should I be worried for my virtue?” “Absolutely.” Without waiting for permission, Giles pulled your arms away, exposing your bare body to his blazing gaze, “You have nothing to hide, you know? You are-” “Just shut up and kiss me, Ripper.” And he did. Grinding your hips into his, it was impossible to ignore his hardening manhood, even through the fabric of his pressed trousers. Giles cupped your bottom, under your skirt but over your panties, bouncing you in place as if he was already inside of you. For your part, you tried to unbutton his pin striped shirt, but the force of his kisses was proving too distracting. “Oh, dear! Poor thing been kissed senseless?” He was teasing and cruel, but in the sexiest possible way. Red cheeked and huffing, you nodded, “Yes… let me touch you!” “Tsk… you didn’t say ‘please’.” “Please! Please, Ripper! Oh god, please let me!” Unseating you slightly, Giles leaned up on his elbows, cocking his head to one side as he took in the mess he had made of you, “Go ahead then. Unzip my pants.” “What?” Removing his glasses, eyeing you darkly, “You heard me, I think.” Swallowing hard, your hands shaking with excitement, you reached for Giles’ belt. Watching him, and only him, you slowly slide the leather from it’s buckle. When you popped the button of his pants and let your hand drag over his hardened length, Rupert groaned and tossed his head back, “Yes. Keep going.” Slowly, agonizingly so, you lowered the zipper as you were ordered to do, “What now, Ripper?” “Take me out. I want you to feel what you do to me.” “I can do that.” You played it cool, but the saucy words being said in that clipped British baritone did things to you. They made your thighs tighten, your belly flutter and your breath catch. Trailing a hand over Giles' barely exposed hip, you moved closer to the prize, your prize, as it pulsed with need. Wrapping your hand around the meaty girth of Rupert's member, you couldn't help stroking the silky hot skin, so vital in your palm. That it caused the man beneath you to moan your name only added fuel to the fire of your desire. Slick and sorely wanting, you licked your lips, ready to savor the flavor of your book stacking beau but he stopped you, saying, "Last chance to run back to the studio." "No way… Ripper." And you felt a rough jerk as your panties were removed by force, the air cool on your overheated core. Another kiss, full of needful things, distracted you as Giles parted your lower lips with his nimble fingers. Pumping into you, once, twice, just to ensure that you were ready, Rupert swiftly stretched your center. With your small hand guiding his shaft, you lowered yourself onto the engorged tower of his power, crying out a ragged, "Oh God!" You thought you were capable of handling any man, but the delicious spread Giles' fine form forced you to endure was more than you expected. Clutching at his bunched up sweater vest, your back arched tautly as Rupert dragged your hips down onto his unrelenting hardness over and over. In your head, a rhythmic, tribal tattoo that made you think of ancient fires and curved statues took hold and you rose and fell against Giles on the beats vibrating through your brain. He sensed it too, alternating his stroke, slowing down and speeding up in time with the thrumming pulse only the pair of you could hear. "I want you to cum for me. Do you understand? Tell me you understand." "Yes! Yes! I'm so close, Ripper! So close!" "Good. That's very good." Tingling now, your muscles tensed, ready for the release Rupert would provide. You flung yourself onto his swollen sex without thought or reason, merely searching for the pleasure he had promised. His thumb, so thick, so clever, pressed against your sensitive clit and your world imploded. Rupert felt it. The moment your body and his melded together was forceful. It tore his pleasure from his loins in grunting gasps as he experienced your ecstacy at his hands. Limp and listless, you draped your half nude body over his, dazed and drained. Who knew screwing the librarian would feel this good? In your post coital haze you started to laugh. Giles, his hands roaming over the sweat soaked skin of your back, heard your chuckles and joined in. It was another release, of sorts, and you found it almost as intimate as the act you had just committed. Folding your hands under your chin, flashing Rupert a wide smile, "Ripper, huh?" Sliding his glasses back into place and carding a hand through his hair, Giles grinned, "Oh, uh… yes. Ripper. My nickname in London." Toying with the collar of his shirt, "I'd love to hear about London sometime… Ripper." At the sound of that name in your voice, Rupert flexed inside of you, "Call me that again and you'll miss last period." Gasping against him, nodding weakly, "Hmm… promise?" That made him smile broadly as he handed you back your sweater, "We can't have a repeat of last week, can we?" "It wasn’t my fault you didn't hear the bell ring, Mr. Giles!" Sitting up, you fastened your bra and shrugged into your sweater before asking, "Did you have to destroy my undies?" "I'm afraid I did. Although I told you to remove anything dear, didn't I?" "What am I gonna do for the next hour, Giles?" Pushing his glasses up, "I would advise you not to bend over." Swatting at him playfully, you used one of the sturdier shelves to stand, adjusting your skirt and fluffing your hair. Looking around at the absolute mess created by falling books, embarrassed, you asked, "Can I help clean this up?" "No, I don't think that'll be necessary. After all, Willow will be in-" "Along with Buffy and Xander and Cordelia. Got it." Standing himself, Giles chuckled as he fastened his trousers and set himself to rights, "Precisely. Now-" he bent over to retrieve a slim volume, "- The book you asked about. Fertility iconography in Meso-American subcultures." "Thanks. Ya know, I always enjoy coming to the library. I'm surprised more people don't." Walking with you, his hand on your lower back, nuzzling into your neck, "I enjoy you cumming in the library." It was on the tip of your tongue to say something fresh when the overly loud bell clanged. Lifting up on tiptoes you pressed a kiss to the goose egg over Giles' eye, saying, "I hope that makes it feel better!" Snagging you into a tight hug, Giles stared into your eyes before kissing you deeply, "That. That makes it feel better." And then the library door swung wide on the four students who called the library a second home, "Um… are my eyes deceiving me or is Giles sporting a black eye? I was only gone for an hour, big guy, what happened?" "If you must know, Xander, a shelf collapsed in the back. We were fortunate enough not to be badly hurt but, there were some bumps and bruises." "A shelf! Oh no… which one?!" Giles turned to Willow solemnly, "I'm afraid all the Grollier’s… and most of Crentist." "On it. Come on Xander. You can help me sort!" "Aw, gee. That sounds like fun." As the pair trotted off, you turned to Giles, whispering low, "Dinner? My place? You can tell me about London, your childhood and why you love tweed." Eyeing Buffy, who was distracted and a distraught, Giles answered, "Tonight? Um…" "He'd love to! Say 9 o'clock? And, he'll bring the wine."

Spinning on your heel, surprised that Buffy was your champion, you grinned, "Great! Awesome! I will see you then."

As you left you heard the bubbly blonde doling out instructions, "No Giles. You can't wear that outfit to dinner! You need to look nice. Nicer than you do now. Also, why is there so much dust in your hair?" If Giles answered you didn’t hear it over your big yawn. You had a lot to do between now and 9 o’clock. Rupert Giles was coming over for dinner and you could hardly wait.

------ Fin ------- I’m tagging my minxes, even though this is specifically NOT a Loki story. I do want you guys to send me stories that might fall under the “Hot Characters” banner though! Minxes: @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @iamverity @mizfit2 @sammy-jo1977 @wolfsmom1 @jessiejunebug @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @jenjen8675309 @that-one-person @roguewraith @toomanystoriessolittletime @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote

#giles #rupert giles #rupert giles x you #giles x you #hot characters you forgot about #rupert giles smut #giles smut #buffy fanfiction

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dc41896 · 4 years ago

Text

Extra Help

Pairing: Teacher!Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: None, all fluff💕!

You weren’t quite sure what to expect when your best friend called needing you to fill in for her at the monthly parent teacher conference. Ronan wasn’t a bad kid by any means, so you doubt that it was about him being disruptive or getting into a fight. Then again, like any 10 year old boy, he could have his moments, bringing you back to square one wondering what would be discussed at this meeting.

Reaching the wooden door, you turn the handle revealing a childlike, decorated classroom brightly lit from the remaining sun shining outside before it was due to set. Various drawings from stick figures to flowers littered the walls along with scholastic posters showing the water cycle and how to use the infamous PEMDAS, just to name a few. There were also posters of superheroes and even some of puppies that made you softly smile.

“Auntie Y/N!,” Ronan smiles hopping up from his desk to hug your legs. “Mom’s not coming?”

“Not this time, she had to work late. Now what did you do that we have to have this meeting?,” you ask eyeing him suspiciously making Ronan giggle.

“Nothing bestest auntie.”

“Bestest auntie? Now I know you definitely did something,” you respond tickling his sides.

“Hi! You must be Ronan’s godmother.” Red plaid button up hanging over his dark jeans, a man who you assume to be Ronan’s teacher emerges from his office with black frames resting on his cheeks and impeccably clean white sneakers on his feet. His gold pendant gleaming in the light only brings more attention to his broad chest, and rolled up sleeves display his muscular arms. “I’m his teacher Mr. Evans.”

His hand envelopes yours in softness and warmth as he greets you with a handshake. The bright smile on his lips not only captures you, but somehow brings comfort even though you only just met. Ronan had told countless stories of his favorite teacher, Mr. Evans, and how he was so cool, funny, and smart.

The figure standing in front of you now compared to who you envisioned then, though, was definitely not the same.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N,” you smile back. “Nina apologizes again for not being able to make it.”

“She doesn’t have to apologize, I completely understand. Please have a seat at my desk and we can get started.” Pulling up one of the bigger chairs for you as Ronan gets one of the student chairs for himself, you both sit in front of the mahogany desk soon meeting with his welcoming blue eyes.

“Is everything okay with Ronan? He hasn’t been any trouble has he?”

“No! No, behavior wise Ronan’s one of the best in my class! He’s polite, always tries to help out, follows the rules.”

“That’s great!,” you smile lightly nudging his arm making him shyly look down to his feet. “And what about his work?”

“For the most part it’s good, but that’s the main thing I wanted to discuss. In his other subjects, Ronan completes his assignments with no problems and participates in our class discussions answering every question I give him. However, I’ve noticed with science he struggles a bit and will kinda close off, not even wanting to try when he doesn’t understand something.”

“Why don’t you ask for help Ro? That’s part of the reason your teacher’s here.”

“I know, but I want to try to figure it out on my own. By then, everyone’s moved on though so then I can’t catch up.”

“Well that’s when you ask for help. And if you don’t want to ask in front of everybody ask after school or during downtime. Or you can always ask me or your mom. Does she already know about his science grades?,” you ask looking back at his teacher who was lightly scratching his thick beard.

“That’s um the other thing I wanted to discuss...”

“Mr. Evansss,” Ronan whines attempting to talk in a hushed tone clearly forgetting you were sat right next to him and could hear every word. “You said you wouldn’t tell.”

“I said I wouldn’t tell your mom bud, not your godmom,” he replies in the same hushed tone nearly making you laugh from their interaction. “If any of the kids have a C or lower, I make a note on their progress report or report card and they have to give it back to me signed. The last report card and past two progress reports Ronan brought them back signed and everything was fine. I ran into his mom at the store one day and she asked why did we switch to having grades online rather than physically handing them out, which confused me until I put it together and realized someone had been forging his mom’s signature.”

“Ronan Michael..”

“You do it all the time though auntie!”

“Yea to send off bills your mom may forget to sign or to get packages for you guys, which she knows about me doing! You signing for your grades is definitely not the same and wrong Ronan, you know that.”

Guilt apparent from his deep brown eyes to his pouted lips, he lightly swings his legs back and forth with hands placed under his thighs. “I was gonna bring my grade up so then I wouldn’t have to do it anymore and then mom wouldn’t know. No harm done.”

“While that’s a nice plan, you still weren’t getting any help though. So what would’ve happened if your grade didn’t get better?”

“....I uh didn’t really think that far ahead,” he answers shrugging his shoulders.

“Okay well since we don’t have a plan for that, here’s what I think. Everyday after school, you meet with Mr. Evans to go over your science lesson and do that until your grades get better and stay that way,” you suggest before once again meeting the soft eyes of his teacher. “But what do you say Mr. Evans? I don’t want to take away from your personal time or home life.”

“I don’t have a problem with it. Plus it’s just me and my dog, who I’m sure wouldn’t mind me not being there to annoy him,” he lightly chuckles making you smile. “And in fact, you and Nina are both welcome in to hear how it’s going so you don’t have to wait outside for him.”

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to let her know. Mostly it’ll be her coming, but the days she can’t make it I’ll be here.”

“Sounds good,” he smiles drumming his fingers on the desk. “Well that was pretty much everything I wanted to discuss. Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, at least not right now.” Scribbling his information down, he peels off the sticky note containing his number and email address before handing it to you.

“If anything comes up just give me a call, or you can email me. I usually respond back the same day if I have time.”

“Thanks, I could’ve gotten all this from Nina though. You didn’t have to waste a stick note on me.”

“Um right,” he sheepishly states, cheeks turning a light pink as he nervously chuckles to himself. “Well one less step then.”

Looking between both your laughing faces, Ronan wasn’t quite sure what was going on between his favorite teacher and bestest aunt, but he didn’t like it.

The weeks that followed, he met with Mr. Evans as he was told usually being joined by his mother who would sit beside him making sure he really understood what was being taught. You would show up sometimes also sitting next to him making sure he got everything, but he couldn’t help but notice Mr. Evans smile a little brighter when you walked in the room. Similar to how he would get excited when his mom would say they were having pizza for dinner. And he was more talkative too, asking about her day which would eventually turn into a random conversation about things they liked or some other topic.

“So, um we’re having a field trip to the planetarium next week and I was wondering if you wanted to come along?,” he asked one day trying to be quiet as Ronan answered his last couple questions.

“To chaperone? I’d love to help out but honestly if I have to look after more than five kids, it’s gonna be a disaster,” you answer making him laugh.

“You don’t have to worry, on paper yea you’re a chaperone but really you’ll just be with me. And since we’re not having class after and the kids can go home as soon as we get back, I was thinking we could go grab dinner at that place I was telling you about.”

You tried to hide your face so he wouldn’t see the giddy smile forming on your lips, but from his own deep chuckle and his fingers briefly grazing yours resting on the table you knew you weren’t quick enough.

“I’m hoping that smile means yes?,” he whispers.

“Done!,” Ronan interrupts before you can answer, quickly gathering his backpack before pulling your hand. “Cmon auntie I’m starving.”

“Hold on Ro, we have to see if your answers are right first then we can leave,” you giggle.

“But I know it’s right! I’ve been doing really well, even Mr. Evans will tell you.”

“Yep everything’s right, and that is true he is doing much better.”

“See? Now time for food! Bye Mr. Evans!,” Ronan rushes pulling you behind him.

“Bye Ronan,” he chuckles before looking at you. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Yea, I’ll let you know if anything changes though.” With a final wave, you feel your heart swell with excitement for your upcoming date as you walk down the hall. Ronan, on the other hand, hoped for anything to stop you from going with his teacher next week.

———

“Hey what’s up with your godmom and Mr. Evans?,” Sarah, one of friends, asks as they watch the two giggle while going over the constellation map shining on the wall.

After getting all the students organized in their groups with their chaperones, and saying everything he needed to, the both of you had been connected at the hip walking around and exploring everything the exhibits had to offer. Ronan wanted nothing more than to go home so he wouldn’t have to see you two together.

“Nothing.”

“Because they look at each other the way my parents do. All lovey dovey and cutesy like.”

“They’re just friends,” he answers, a little annoyed by everything going on around him.

“Well if they do get together,” Zach, his other friend begins, “say bye to your aunt.”

“Say goodbye?”

“Yea. It’s like with my older brother, he got a girlfriend and now I barely see him.”

“Ooh and if Mr. Evans becomes your uncle, he’s gonna be tougher on you,” Sarah adds. “My grandma was my mom’s teacher and she said she was so hard on her she couldn’t even make a B and if she did, she got in trouble.”

Ronan knew his teacher and he’d never do that. He was like a friend and friend’s wouldn’t be mean to each other. Plus his godmother would never let him treat her precious godson that way. Watching the two of you walk to another exhibit, he began to think though, what if you forgot all about him now that you had Mr. Evans?

What if his friends were right and you dating him caused all these bad things to happen? He didn’t know how he would do it, but he had to stop this quick before things got worse.

———

“Did you know Jupiter is so big, 1000 Earth’s can fit in it?,” Chris asks as you both walk through the life size replica of the solar system.

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“And the sun makes up 99% of the solar system’s mass, which is crazy since what can be seen in the sky is just a small dot. And although we know about our own galaxy, there are so many more we’ve discovered, and have yet to, possibly with various planets of their own that have their own unique properties, which just astounds me and-.”

Hearing your slight giggle, he turns to see your brown eyes on him now realizing how you probably felt like you were back in elementary school yourself from his information dump.

“S-sorry about the rambling. I know it’s probably boring, and I’ve been told I really need to stop-.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not boring at all! I’d actually like it if you keep going,” you shyly smile holding onto his hand. Thumb rubbing against the back of your hand, he slowly steps closer to you stopping inches from your chests being pressed together.

“Okay well let’s see. Both Neptune and Uranus have rain storms of solid diamonds. And while I’m sure that would be a beautiful sight, it’s nothing compared to what’s in front of me right now.”

Before you can speak, you both hear approaching small footsteps making you separate to find Ronan grabbing his stomach as if he was in pain.

“Ro you okay? Why are you holding your stomach?,” you ask walking up to him with Chris following close behind.

“No, it hurts auntie. I think I need to go home.”

“Well the bus is our ride back, do you think you can hold on until it’s time for everyone to go?”

“No, I think I need to go now,” he groans rubbing his stomach.

“Alright, let me call your mom and see if she’ll come get you.”

“I want you to come too though,” he whines hugging your mid section as you dial your friend’s number.

“Ro your mom can handle it. I’ll come by and check on you later though okay?”

“No, you have to leave when I do!,” he protests hiding his face in your abdomen as you rub his back confused by his outburst and sudden clinginess.

Clearly something else was going on here besides an upset stomach.

“Hey, can you give us a minute?,” you ask Chris, to which he nods his head giving you a sympathetic smile.

“I’ll be outside if you guys need me.” Sneakers squeaking against the tile floor, you wait until he leaves before squatting down to meet Ronan’s red eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“What’s really going on Ro? Is somebody bothering you?,” you ask wiping his tears.

“Yea, Mr. Evans.”

“How is he bothering you?”

“Because he’s gonna take you away and we’re never gonna see each other again. Then he’s gonna be mean to me for making less than an A and-,”

“Whoa whoa where is all this coming from?”

“Well...i-it’s what my friends said,” he responds making you softly laugh.

“Honey no one will EVER take me away from you. Not Mr. Evans or any other guy that may come along. And your teacher would never be rude to you like that, he cares about all of you guys and just wants to make sure you do your best. Look how much he helped you get your science grade back up.”

“Yea but that’s before you get married and he changes,” he sniffles.

“What all do these kids talk about?,” you wonder as you shake your head. “Buddy I can promise you marriage is definitely a far far FAR off topic that isn’t in sight anytime soon,” you softly smile. “But from what I’ve seen, even if we did get married, he would still be that fun teacher you always say is your favorite. You don’t need to worry about that though okay? You keep focusing on being the funny, smart, amazing kid I know and love.”

“Okay, and you promise nothing’s gonna change?,” he asks with those big brown eyes that could turn stone into the softest powder.

“I promise with every breath in my body.” Hugging him close, he giggles as you repeatedly kiss his cheeks squeezing him tight.

“Auntie I can’t breathe!”

“Too bad because I’m not letting you go,” you both laugh as you hug each other.

“Hey they’re about to start loading up the buses soon so we can go back to school,” Chris says walking up to the both of you. “Your stomach still hurt Ronan?”

“No, it’s better now. Just a false alarm.”

“That’s good, if it starts again though let one of us know and we’ll call your mom okay?”

“Okay,” he smiles up at the much taller man. “Um Mr. Evans?”

“Yea bud?”

“It’s okay if you and my auntie like each other. I’m fine with it now.”

“Oh, um, well thank you for your blessing,” he chuckles looking at you softly laughing yourself.

Proudly nodding once, he walks to the door with you and Chris not that far behind.

“What was that about?,” he asks still amused by what he just witnessed.

“I’ll tell you later,” you giggle joining hands as you both walk out side by side.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jnk-812 @jojolu @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

#chrisxblackreader #chrisxwoc #chrisxreader #chris evans

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59writes · 3 years ago

Text

THE DRAW (PART ONE)

(PART TWO)

if you’re reading this as like an actual fic: first of all I’m sorry. how did you end up here. it’s most definitely 2 am go to bed. this fic was literally made because of a fucking uquiz about “ what kpop boy are you enemies to lovers with”

second of all, ignore any chess mistakes. idk I know legit fuckall about chess, my brother just always bitches about it whenever I want to stop playing because I just have my king left or smth like that because I know I’ve lost. mf reads chess books.

like look: I UNDERSTAND the game and how it works, and the idea that you have to think ahead and plan. but I’m adhd as shit and there’s no such thing as time or planning. ergo, I suck. like I SUCK. I feel like if I applied myself I’d be great but fuck that. I’m a bad chess player and y’all gotta deal.

third: I mention League Of Legends at one point. I’m so cringe yes shut up ok but I’ve been special interest-ing League for several months now and I need to let you know that Josh, y/n, and Jeonghan play a mean jungler/adc/support combo (respectively). I have so many more headcanons typed in my draft or whatever but I know nobody wants to see it so

anyways pls enjoy this train wreck of a fic lol

If you had known playing chess would have led to this bullshit, you never would have started playing in the first place.

You wouldn’t have worked your ass off, wouldn’t have pored through strategy books and watched live-streamed games, wouldn’t have competed for months to become an official grandmaster. Absolutely not. None of that hard work and pride deserved to be wasted on Yoon Jeonghan.

Thanks to your exceptional academics and study habits, as well as your headlining pursuits in chess, private schools crawled to your front door and begged for you to give them money just so they could brag about having you as arm candy. You didn’t care. It was free scholarships, a chance to leave your tiny town, a chance to start anew with people just like you. If you were lucky, they wouldn’t know your fame status, or would be used to the junk by now. Some would probably be even more popular than you.

So you grabbed a paper, scribbled a signature on, and packed your bags.

You had picked an academy for the arts, as logic games apparently counted as one. They figured they could do something with your whimsical essay writing as well, submit you in scholastic contests. It didn’t matter. You were free, and there to play some goddamn chess.

They had a hardcore club there, meeting daily on weekdays and occasionally for casual play on the weekends. Everyone there was excellent, all clever players with quick logic and a competitive edge that you hadn’t seen in a while. It was refreshing, but still not enough of a challenge.

You swept the floor with your classmates, and rose to the top of the club’s rankings within a week.

Of course you lost games here and there, as everyone did, but for the most part any game you began was imbalanced from the beginning. Your opponent could at best only defend themselves, only able to pick off pawns or bait bishops that inevitably ended in a brutal checkmate.

You were top of the class, and for once it took some effort. You felt like you’d earned something, and you were actually interacting with serious chess players who wanted to learn, not fawn over your work. They played fair and every game was fun.

That was until the blond bitch came in.

He sauntered into the class about a month after you’d hit the top of the leaderboard, long blond hair tied back in a neat and slick ponytail. You barely noticed, immersed in a game with another boy, Joshua. You studied the board as your opponent looked up, grinning wildly.

“Jeonghan!” He called out, waving at the other boy.

Jeonghan’s ponytail whipped across his shoulder as he turned, matching Josh’s smile with a killer beam of his own and jogging over.

“‘Shua!” He chirped, playfully wrapping an arm around Joshua’s neck, strangling him while his other hand smooshed Josh’s hair around.

You watched them wrestle for a second before clearing your throat. “Josh, your move.”

“Aw shit.” Josh says, wrestling Jeonghan’s arm away from his shoulder. “Back to the ass kicking.”

You grin. “If you hadn’t made that dumb move literally third turn in-“

“Hey! We are NOT talking about that!”

You snort and glance at Jeonghan, who’s gone quiet, studying the board. He crouches down and whispers in Josh’s ear, both of them scanning the board. Josh finally nods, pushing one of his pawns forward.

“What was that about, Hong?” You ask, capturing said pawn with a neat L from your knight.

“Nothing.” He replies sweetly, while Jeonghan smirks.

“Sure it wasn’t.”

Josh doesn’t reply. The rest of the game is tensely quiet, interrupted only by Jeonghan murmuring into Joshua’s ear every few minutes, a devil on his shoulder.

But it was fine, you were ahead by a few pieces, your bishops slowly inching towards a checkmate. The next move was it, the game in the bag.

And then your queen is gone.

Jeonghan takes the liberty of removing it from the board with a proud smile while Joshua cackles.

The game doesn’t last much longer, soon the both of you down to just pawns and your king, and then just the kings. A draw.

And let’s be honest here: Joshua kinda sucks at chess.

Josh counted it as a victory, though, hitting Jeonghan with a high five that echoed around the classroom like a firecracker. The boys talked briefly while you set up the board again for the next duo and packed your bag, ready to head to your dorm for a much-needed nap.

You wave to Joshua and turn to go, only making it a few steps before someone grabs your wrist. You whip around, ready to tell them off, only to be met with Jeonghan interrupting whatever swear you were about to say with a sharp smile.

“I’m playing you on Monday.”

He lets go of your wrist and turns around, resuming his talk with Josh as if nothing happened.

Rubbing your wrists ruefully, you headed home.

•••

Of course, his bullshit didn’t stop there.

You did, in fact, play him on Monday. He had you cornered within five minutes.

The next time, in four.

He gathered a crowd a few games in. Every time you’d meet his gaze he’d smirk, eyes brimming with some sort of superiority that made you furious, always endlessly cool and calm. He’d flick his hair over his shoulder every so often, even stopping to talk to spectators while you puzzled over the board, trying to hide your stress.

You were second place by Wednesday.

•••

“You cheated.”

Jeonghan just raises a brow.

“Put the rook back.” You growl, firm.

“Sorry?” He ignores your request, instead poking at one of your previously captured pawns he has resting on the table next to him. “Can you move? I’ve almost got checkmate.”

“My rook, Yoon.” You hold out your hand. “Give it back, or put it back yourself. H6.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you resign? If we were using a timer you’d have been disqualified sometime last week.”

It’s taking every ounce of self control to not slap the living shit out of the smug bastard. “Jeonghan, if you don’t-“

“How’s the game going here?” The chess club leader had made her way to your table, grinning widely upon seeing her favorite students.

Jeonghan smiles kindly at her while you curl in on yourself, trying not to explode. “It’s fine, Ms. Lee. Almost done with this one.”

“Are you missing a piece? Looks like the black rook-“

“Must have fallen off the table.” Jeonghan chirps, ducking under the table and returning with the piece in hand. He sets it with the rest of his captured black army, sending a thumbs up at Ms. Lee. “Thanks for noticing, we don’t need to lose any more pieces.” It’s an innocent sentence, but it makes you turn a boiling red. Lose a piece, my ass.

“Well played, both of you.” She replies, patting Jeonghan on the head fondly before walking off. The blond rolls his eyes, ducking his head so Ms. Lee can’t see.

“Jeonghan, you asshole.” You hiss as soon as Ms. Lee is out of earshot. “I saw you take it out of your pocket, you lying-“

“If you’re not moving, I’m going to.” Jeonghan replies, moving his bishop forward to capture your queen. “Checkmate. Good game.”

You can only gape as he grabs your hand to shake it and walks off, approaching Joshua.

That was when you really knew you hated him.

•••

You studied his games from then on, partially to learn, partially to gather evidence. If he was cheating this consistently with other players, you could definitely get him kicked out of the club and subsequently your life once competition season started, as well as learn and potentially steal his strategies.

Infuriatingly, though, every single game he played besides the hellish ones with you were completely fair. No pieces being slipped into his thin hands when nobody was looking, no clock taps that discreetly took a few seconds from his opponent’s timer. Even with Josh, who he was best buddies with: not even a joking steal or a prank of any kind.

It was just with you.

Every single game you played together, he managed to do something to piss you off, if not blatantly cheat. If it was one of the days you had spectators, his harassment would come in the form of heavy looks and obnoxious “I’m waiting”-esque moves: tapping his nails on the desk, raising a brow, checking his watch.

And if you were alone, you basically had to glue your pieces down to the board to stop them from slipping their way into his pockets. It was obvious when he did it, too, always sending you a smile, too innocent.

It was infuriatingly adorable how proud he was of his nasty behavior. And he was focused too: none of his other opponents got the thought and effort he put into outwitting you and attempting to steal things without you noticing. As much as you hated him, you had to admire it.

Which is why it was so hard to finally draw a line and refuse to play with him anymore.

Though he shrugged when you put your foot down, his dark eyes watched you the rest of that club session. Every time you caught him, he held your gaze for a moment before looking away and resuming cheerfully animated conversation with his opponent.

God, how was he so easily likeable?

He respected your decision, though, and didn’t even attempt to talk to you. It was genuinely polar and strange, and it made you lost in thought as the months passed.

You almost missed the absence of anger, as stupid as it was. School had always been boring and simple, and chess with Jeonghan was the only thing to have made you frustrated in a long time, to have truly challenged you in a long time.

Even when you buckled down on trying to get him out of your head, he seemed to follow- being friends with Joshua (and honestly most of the other club members) almost always devolved into chats about the club and “why aren’t you playing Jeonghan anymore?”. Josh often suggested playing video games with the two of them, and you had to refuse (although playing League with Josh was so fun).

It was lonely.

Stupid Jeonghan.

•••

Finally, tournament season started.

Following (what was apparently) club tradition, the entire team dyed their hair between practices. You settled with a simple streak of blue that was stolen from Josh (he went completely teal, the madman).

The next day, Jeonghan came to practice with his blond ponytail gone, replaced by a dark brown undercut, hair bluntly chopped to end around his jaw.

Unfortunately, it suited him.

He saved a blond spot for a bit of Josh’s blue, however, and Josh dyed it for him in the middle of the clubroom, laughing the whole time. They’d planned it, clearly, as you were pretty sure Josh didn’t just carry around dye in his backpack.

Which means he knew you two would match when he did your hair.

It was confirmed by an apologetic shrug when you cornered him while he threw away the dye-stained gloves.

“Give him a chance, please y/n?”

“Hong Jisoo. You know how I feel about that dumbass-“

“y/n-“

“Why are you so insistent on having us talk again? He’s a two-faced-“

“y/n, you’d like him. He’s funny, and genuinely nice. I don’t know why he was acting like that with you, but that was almost three months ago. Give him a chance.”

“You should be glad I like you, you stupid fucking rat.”

Josh laughs as you walk away, fuming.

Unfortunately, you did like that stupid fucking rat, and so when he offered dinner after an out-of-state tournament (he pinky swore he’d pay) you finally gave in.

Jeonghan coming?

lol yea

that ok?

not rlly

I’ll give him a chance tho

:D thank u

you owe me

I’m buying ur food :(

josh we r literally getting fast food

you owe me

lol k >:)

#x reader #kpop x reader #svt #svt x reader #yoon jeonghan #Jeonghan #Hong Jisoo #joshua #chess!au #not even joking lol

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elydraws · 4 years ago

Text

— haikyuu!! oneshot.

heartbeat in the court

introduction: finally the big day of the Miyagi prefecture qualifying finals has arrived. Karasuno would have faced Shiratorizawa and you too had the opportunity to confront your stepbrother, Wakatoshi Ushijima.

this oneshot takes place during the Spring Interhigh Qualifiers final. you, despite being a girl, are accepted into the men's volleyball team thanks to your talent as a Middle Blocker. but what the rest of the team doesn't know is your bond with the captain of the opposing team and your hostility towards him, largely reciprocated. in all of this, with so much at stake, just when things seem to get out of hand, you'll find yourself relying on Nishinoya. Realizing that he has always been by your side.

⤿ pairing: nishinoya x reader, nishinoya x (y/n)

⤿ warnings: fluff, hints of divorce and neglect, sibling rivalry, hints of discrimination against women.

>a/n: hello everyone, initially, I had imagined this one-shot with an OC created by me, which pre-made would be Ann Takamaki from Persona 5.

still, since it would have been very restrictive for some people, I preferred not to specify the physical appearance and make it become a nishinoyaxreader, instead of a nishinoyaxoc.

obviously being Ushijima's half-sister, the surname is necessarily that of his father (Utsui), be patient about it çwç

Also in my head, the protagonist is about six inches taller than Nishinoya, but I have not specified anything about the height, so you are free to imagine her as you like!

I leave you to read, and as usual, I apologize for my english!

Shivers ran through your arms. The game was still at the beginning, barely halfway through the first set, but the air on the field was heavy.

Not even the choirs praising the two teams could muffle the ball's snap against the floor when Ushijima hit it.

Even among the reserves, you could feel the heaviness of those blows. But your eyes couldn't leave the ball, focused on one goal.

You would have liked to enter the field immediately, to demonstrate your skills, and that you were able to stand up to the captain of the Shiratorizawa, but it was not yet time.

You didn't know if Coach Ukai understood your determination to stop Wakatoshi's dunk, especially given the difficulties the first-strings were having. Not that anyone could not blame him. The fact that you had entered the men's team - thanks also to your insistence - was in itself a miracle. Anatomically, both for physical strength and - in most cases - for height, women were weaker than men. But that hadn't been able to stop you.

After playing for a short time on the girls' team, who didn't seem to take volleyball as seriously as the men's, you had decided to put forward a proposal that for many had seemed absurd.

That was the only way you could prove to your father, Takashi Utsui, that you could have been at the same level as Wakatoshi. It had taken two weeks to convince Coach Ukai that you had nothing to envy to the rest of the team. Where your physical strength wasn't enough, you reach them in speed - the only other team member faster than you was Hinata - and if the height wasn't enough, you jumped higher.

Your wall might not be as stable as Asahi's or Tsukishima's. Still, you could read your opponents' intentions and readily respond to their attacks, slowing or deflecting them by using that power against them. That was your strength.

However, the Coach didn't know that you had trained all your life to block Shiratorizawa's captain dunks. Where for many, a left-handed opponent was a problem, you knew exactly how to stop him.

You had studied it for a long time and know how he played. You had learned to read him.

And now that you were so close to your target, being able to observe it so closely, without doing anything, was making you nervous.

This feeling was starting to become evident as you shifted your weight from foot to foot under Sugawara's inquiring gaze.

"Uh ... Are you all right?" the sound of his voice roused you.

You were so absorbed in the game that you didn't even hear him say your name.

"You look pretty sensitive today, are you okay?"

"Yes, I would just like to enter the field and help my teammates, that's all!" you lied, waving a hand in front of your face as if you wanted to brush off his worries.

"If you say so..." Koshi returned to observe the game shouting cheers to the team after giving you a last doubtful look.

You could barely hold back a sigh of relief.

You didn't tell anyone on the team about your family connection with Ushijima.

First of all, it didn't seem like there was anything to brag about, nor that it was relevant information for the team -you had already given all your observations regarding Wakatoshi's game to Kiyoko-. Also, no one had investigated it, mostly thanks to your surnames' diversity, and you were happy to gloss over the subject. The relationship between your two families was something you didn't like to talk about.

Takashi Utsui had divorced Ushijima's mother when he was still a child, thanks to an extramarital affair with a foreign partner, or your mother, who then became pregnant. At first, the story had covered up by keeping the pregnancy a secret until Utsui's first marriage could no longer handle both spouses' unhappiness.

So Takashi moved to America with your mother, but you knew that his heart had remained in Japan with his son. No matter how good you were, Utsui only saw Ushijima.

Despite their distance, he was always informed about his scholastic and sporting results to the point of having reports sent about him or cutting out sports articles that mentioned his name. He often called him secretly from his ex-wife, giving him friendly advice on his game or complimenting his victories.

He is so focused on Wakatoshi that he couldn't even see you.

No matter how many trophies you won or if you became the captain of your team, Ushijima always did something extra to win - even if not intentionally - your father's attention.

And things got worse when, for work reasons, the whole family was forced to return to Japan. In the same prefecture where Ushijima played.

So when you entered in the first year of high school, there was only one thing you wanted to prove to your father: you were worth as much as your stepbrother. At first, you believed you could prove that truth thanks to the women's team, but when you started training, you realized that it was not with them that you would reach that goal, and it was almost a coincidence when that idea had crossed your mind.

You accidentally overheard a call between your father and Ushijima one night while your brother told Utsui how that short little Karasuno guy had threatened him to win the final. That statement had gotten on Wakatoshi's nerves, admitting he couldn't stand unwarranted arrogance

. The thing had you on a rampage.

Wakatoshi was like that. He belittled and looked down on everyone. He had done it with you too on the rare occasions you had met in the past, his gaze seemed to judge you every time, and his indifference showed how little he thought of you.

So you decided that if the Karasuno men's team wanted to kick Ushijima's butt so badly, you would more than willingly help them and that this would be the perfect opportunity to prove to your father that you too were worthy of his attention.

But now that you found yourself in the showdown, with the Shiratorizawa continuing to accumulate points after points without your team being able to recover, it was starting to make you hold your breath.

You began to believe that, at that rate, there would be no opportunity for you to play.

The referee's whistle filled the gym, and suddenly there was an almost deathly silence.

Wakatoshi lifted the ball into the air for his next serve.

At that moment, a scream tore through the air "COME ON! BRING IT ON" Nishinoya must have screamed with all the air in his lungs because his voice's sure timbre made your knees tremble with its intensity. For the first time during the match, your eyes left Ushijima's statuesque figure to dwell on the small one of Yu.

But no matter how small in stature he was at that moment, his presence had conquered the entire field, obscuring even that of the captain of the Shiratorizawa. A smile involuntarily pursed your lips.

The slap of Wakatoshi's hand startled even the reserves as the ball crossed the field so fast that you could hardly follow its path.

On the stands, Shiratorizawa's cheering was ready to cheer on another point as the ball headed into the disputed part of the pitch, right in the middle between Daichi and Nishinoya.They both moved, ready to take it.

Next to you, Yamaguchi made a horrified squeak covering his eyes. "Oh, no! They will collide!"

Such a thought was understandable, neither player had called it, yet they both leaned towards the ball, ready to take it. You would have liked to look away not to see Daichi's figure colliding with Yu's.

Your heart was beating madly against your chest, yet a part of you knew that Nishinoya would succeed. You had learned to read determination in his gaze, and if there was one thing you knew, it was that no matter how impossible a ball seemed, Nishinoya would have intercepted it.

Your blocks, with him on the court, were even more effective. Your team play was close to perfect when it came to coordination: if you slowed down a ball, Nishinoya was right behind you, ready to catch it.

That's why you knew Yu would succeed this time. He would intercept that scary service.

It was a moment, Daichi withdrew, leaving space for Nishinoya to receive, and everyone held their breath in the gym when the number 4 dropped to his knees and stretched out his arms. As it hit his forearms, the ball slowed and rose for the rest of the team to catch it.

In the Karasuno camp, there was a sigh of relief and surprise before Sugawara, Hinata, and Yamaguchi shouted in chorus: "He got it!"

Yet another shiver ran down your back, but this time, it was an almost pleasant sensation as a wave of heat spread over your abdomen as your cries of joy joined those of the other reserves: "Good job Nishinoya-kun! I knew you could make it! " you didn't know if he heard you or have time to investigate Yu's curious blush on cheeks that Tanaka scored and sent the team wired.

Nishinoya ran to high-five Tanaka, while Sugawara almost thoughtlessly hugged you in enthusiasm.

"Hey! If anyone here has to be hugged by (y / n), it's me!" Nishinoya complained, pointing at number 2 with a homicidal air.

"Or me!" Tanaka joined, giving support to his companion.

Sugawara blushed, apologizing to all three. "Forgive me. I got carried away."

You laughed, finally relieved of the heaviness felt up to that moment, "Don’t worry Nishinoya, if you continue to play like this, there will be more hugs for you!" you teased him with a wink.

That promise left the number 4 speechless.

Maybe you broke him.

Nishinoya stared at you with blank eyes, entirely still.

You blinked a couple of times, wondering what to do when an almost feral scream rose from his lips "BRING IT ON! I WILL SHOW YOU! I WON'T MISS A BALL!" it looked like he was going to explode at any moment.

Sugawara lowered his shoulders, frowning. "Now I'm almost afraid for Shiratorizawa," he murmured, studying Yu inhale and exhale like fury, taking a new position on the field.

You lowered your head, "Forgive me, maybe I exaggerated ... but better this way, right?" you played down, giggling.

You knew that Nishinoya - as well as Tanaka - had a soft spot for practically... the entire female population of this earth. Still, you would never have imagined a similar reaction from him for a simple hug. Strangely though, it pleased you, and you found yourself smiling.

Shiratorizawa won the first set.

During the second, however, it seemed to rebalance. In the end, both the team seemed to struggle to keep up.

Shiratorizawa was deciding the pace of the game, and you didn't like it at all. It was as if they already knew they were going to win, and that belief was the same as your stepbrother, that blind arrogance in believing themselves the best.

You started eating your thumbnail to the point of almost bleeding as you glanced nervously at Coach Ukai in a silent request, but he seemed to ignore your need and impatience.

You had already begged to join the game after the last time-out.

"I know I can do it" were these the words you said to Ukai as he silently stared at you, with his head lowered, "I can stop Ushijima."

But it hadn't helped. It wasn't your time yet. You didn't know if Ukai would ever give you the chance to play during that game, but one thing was sure: the coach had read that assurance's in your eyes.

Then, with just a few points at the end of the set, it happened. The tactic for containing Ushijima had begun to work. Thanks to the three-way block, Nishinoya seemed to want to fulfill the promise you made him during the previous set, intercepting every ball that the block diverted towards him.

Shiratorizawa seemed less scary now.

Tsukishima certainly has exceptional timing, you thought as the team took a moment to congratulate each other, who knows if with him on the field I'll be able to get in.

Your hopes seemed to vanish when Tsukishima scored a point, making them win the second set with a block on a dunk from Ushijima.

Although you cheered along with the others, there was a part of you that kept thinking, 'I wish I were the one to hit that spot' or 'I should have been the first to block his attack'.

You shook your head, trying to get rid of those evil thoughts.

"Oi!" Nishinoya called you as the teams changed sides for the third set. "Why that worried face?" he asked, tilting his head with a cocky smile "look, it's too late to renege on your promise."

You jumped, taken by surprise, yet you were convinced that your smile had diverted the team's attention on something else. Still, it wasn't enough to confuse Yuu.

"Oh, it's nothing," you sketched an embarrassed smile when those envious thoughts crossed your head one more time "I would just like to enter the field too, that's all," you admitted knowing you couldn't hide anything from Yu "it's an important game ..." especially for me.

Nishinoya showed his best smile, vigorously slapping his open palm against your back. "I'm sure the coach will let you in before the end. The Nishinoya-Utsui pairing makes sparks!"

At those words, your cheeks flushed.

Perhaps also realizing what Yu had said or aware of your reaction, he winced, embarrassed, and redder than a tomato. His hand quickly moved away from your back as he tried to compose himself, assuming a casual air. "Here ... I meant that ..."

"Nishinoya !!" Hinata called him, already positioned in the field, "Hurry up!"

Number 4 jumped at the chance. "See you soon on the pitch then, show Shiratorizawa what you can do!" he encouraged her, running away to the second line.

You waved a hello absently, smiling gratefully.

When was the last time someone had trusted you so much?

The joy of winning the last set was brief.

Shiratorizawa retook control of the game, taking home the third set.

Even Nishinoya seemed to have gotten nervous, and apparently, it wasn't just the rivalry that arose between him and your stepbrother. Still, you also heard him muttering something through gritted teeth like "Damn Ushijima! You won't stop me from having a hug from (y / n)"

He must have taken it personally...

"Come on, Nishinoya!" you yelled from the bench as the ball passed into Shiratorizawa's pitch.

The game was tense.

You could feel the heart contort with every hit and dunk of the opposing team, and a sigh of relief came from the lips every time Nishinoya or Daichi retrieved a ball. You were on your nerves, and you weren't with them.

Keep calm, keep repeating yourself; your time will come.

When the referee whistled the end of the fourth set for Karasuno, your shoulders relaxed with a hand resting on your chest. "Thank goodness ..." you sighed in relief, almost wholly forgetting the dark thoughts that had clouded your team spirit.

You couldn't let self-centeredness make you like Ushijima.

You were different.

Also, some people believed in you despite everything, like Nishinoya.

The thought helped you better tolerate the idea of not entering the field to prove your worth to your father.

By now, you were in peace when it happened.

At the beginning of the last set, the decisive and most important one, Tsukishima, injured his hand.

When you saw the blood dripping into the space between his fingers and into his palm, you felt your stomach turn.

"Utsui!" Ukai's voice roused you like from a nightmare, making you jump.

"Yup!" you replied, ready and decisive, trying to shake off the feeling of having wanted to play so much that it caused that incident in Tsukishima's hand.

While Kei wrapped his injured hand around a towel, you approached, "Hey Tsukishima..."

With his usual indifferent expression, he turned, but you recognized that light in his eyes, the disappointment of not participating in such a crucial moment.

Swallows, you clench your hand into a fist "You were incredible," you admitted, smiling triumphantly. "I'll keep expectations high."

He did not seem impressed, instead looked away, turning away from you. "Don't ruin everything," but there was no bitterness in his voice.

"Just saying 'good luck' would have worked out anyway, you know?" you teased him as he started to walk away. "Move to come back, I can't wait to slam the victory in your face" you mocked him to ease the tension, but you knew that leaving at such a moment was a big wound in his pride.

The only thing you could do to make him feel better was to win that game.

Finally, on the pitch, you started to feel your heart beating against your eardrums. It was your moment. Right there, at that exact moment.

Daichi clapped his hands, rallying the team, "Come on! Focus!"

As you approached the rest of your teammates, you could hear a strange buzz in the stands. Probably many were questioning the coach's choice to have a woman play, also as a central, against a giant like Ushijima.

"Ehhhh? A woman?" Satori, on the other side of the net, stared at the field in your direction, following you with his eyes, before turning to the rest of the team "they don't think we'll hold back for this, do they?" Ushijima studied you in silence, while you seemed to be trying to take stock of the situation with the rest of the team. "Of course not." His voice, grave and low, caught the rest of his team's attention before returning behind the line.

"(y / n) don't be intimidated by Ushijima!" Tanaka assured you, "we managed to keep up with him until now, and we will continue to do so!" You turned your head, hardly hearing Ryunosuke's words as your gaze fixed on your stepbrother's massive figure across the field.

"Uhm... (y / n)?"

"Don't worry about me," your voice sliced through the air like a knife. "I've been preparing myself for this moment all my life."

Some of your teammates exchanged confused glances before nodding resolutely, thinking you were referring to the final, saying that it was the right spirit.

Before each taking their positions, Nishinoya reached out with a closed fist towards you. "What did I tell you?" he exclaimed satisfied, stiffening "let's show Shiratorizawa what we can do! I am right behind you (y / n). They won't beat us!"

You nodded, punching his fist in response.

No, you would not have lost for you. For Nishinoya's trust. For Tsukishima's hard work. For the team.

You soon found yourself face to face with Ushijima, right under the net.

He towered in front of you with an aura that you were sure would make anyone else tremble and flee. But not you.

You positioned yourself in front of him without batting an eye and fixed your gaze with him.

The rest of the team must have realized that something was wrong, too, because many of their eyes were now fixed on you.

"How long, Wakatoshi ..." you greeted him, lapidary, narrowing your eyelids.

"(y / n)" The captain of the Shiratorizawa didn't flinch, while the rest of your companions winced.

"Hey! Don't take all these confidences ..." Nishinoya grumbled, referring to the fact that Ushijima had just called you by your first name.

"Uh? Do you know each other?" Satori asked, pointing at you with his index finger.

Wakatoshi nodded, serious, "Yes, she is my stepsister."

A strange silence filled the field.

"STEPSISTER?!?!?!?!?!" the scream rose suddenly on both sides of the field, almost forcing the referee to recall the teams.

"W-what? Why didn't you ever tell us, huh?!" inquired Hinata, shocked, looking first at your back and then at Wakatoshi's face.

You didn't turn around, unable to leave that war of gazes with your opponent. "It wasn't relevant."

"It wasn't ..." Sugawara repeated softly.

"... relevant?" Daichi finished, frowning.

"It didn't matter," you repeated softly to Wakatoshi, while an arrogant smile formed on your lips, "because you are now my opponent, and I am your block to break down. Get ready to see your dunks fail, big brother" you mocked the last word vehemently without batting an eyelid when Ushijima smiled, menacingly.

"All this arrogance ... it gets on my nerves."

"... Even your sister is a monster ..." Satori murmured, recognizing in you at that moment, the same authoritative decision and confidence of his captain.

Asahi almost took a step back, intimidated. "Yes ... now I'm starting to see some similarities."

Nishinoya's eyes flashed with admiration, "Show him (y / n)!"

When the whistle came, you were ready.

Shiratorizawa's line flew over the net, and Daichi was there, catching it "Sugawara!"

Koshi lifted the hide as you, the winger, and Tanaka approached the net simultaneously.

I'll hit her. I'm going to smack her and score.

But the ball passed right over your fingers, straight at Rynosuke. His dunk touched Satori's guess block and was intercepted by their Liber ready to be lifted for a dunk by Ushijima.

This is the moment I've been waiting for!

An adrenaline rush ran through your entire body as you ran towards the balloon, getting ready to jump.

I annoyed him, you thought quickly, and his self-centeredness will make him believe he will wipe me out. He will not aim to overtake us but break through the wall of pure power, right on me.

Like an open book to you, Wakatoshi did what you predicted.

He charged the shot and struck, right on your hands.

It hurt.

More than you imagined.

You felt your fingers bend backward, your palms burn, and your arms give way. You couldn't compete with him in brute strength, but as he trained every day to power up his dunk, you had been studying a way to thwart it.

The position of your hands did the trick.

The ball's power worked in your favor, its trajectory following the angle of your fingers, bouncing back towards Ushijima before falling, amidst the astonishment of the entire gym, in the middle of the opponent's field.

When your feet hit the ground, the gym exploded with screams.

You were so happy that you almost didn't realize how red and sore your hands were. You didn't care.

When you turned to the rest of the team, you almost fell backward as they all ran in your direction to compliment or hug you.

Satori stared at you, his eyes still bulging. "Yes ... a monster..." he mumbled before falling silent on seeing Ushijima's expression "is-it was just a stroke of luck ..." he reassured him, but Wakatoshi didn't even listen to him.

Nishinoya was the last to walk away from you, gently grasping your wrists, before carefully studying your dark-faced hands.

When you noticed his expression, you tried to withdraw your hands from his grasp, sweet and firm, without succeeding. "Oh, don't worry, it will pass."

Yu remained with his eyes down on your wounds. "I know there is probably a reason and that this game is important to you ... you probably want to prove something to Ushijima, and that's okay, but ... don't get down like that," you blush, while Nishinoya lifted his face with a solemn and severe air, "I told you even before, right? I'm behind you, watching your back."

You swallow as Yu walked away, taking his place in the center of the field. You were so shocked by his resolve that you didn't notice his expression -all satisfied- as he settled into position, under Tanaka's grim gaze, who was muttering something between his teeth like 'and stop saying such cool things...'.

The followings points were a constant chase.

It did not matter who won the first point; the other team followed suit; neither of them decided to let go even for a moment.

It was clear that there was an open war between you and Ushijima. Wherever he crushed, you were there.

Your hands still hurt, and you knew that that kind of block was a gamble, especially now without the surprise effect, and the captain of the Shiratorizawa was now much more attentive to your moves.

But it doesn't matter, you thought, trying to block another one of his dunks with Sugawara and Tanaka, you just need to slow it down a bit.

The ball touched your fingers and slid past you, losing some of its speed.

"First touch!"

You didn't even turn around to check; you knew Nishinoya was there, ready to receive it.

It doesn't matter that I stop it completely..., you repeated to yourself with a smile and a light, confident soul, because you are right behind me, aren't you Nishinoya?

"MINE!" Yu's voice came loudly behind you, and the ball didn't touch the floor.

When the action was over, you turned around, your forehead wet with sweat and your hair stuck to your cheeks despite having tried to keep it away from your face.

You were out of breath, but you didn't feel tired, although bridging the gap between you and the rest of the team took a lot of energy.

But when you met Nishinoya's proud gaze, nothing mattered anymore. Yu raised both hands in a high-five, "Nice save!"

"Nice reception."

However, the game had just entered its most intense phase, Ushijima began to get nervous, and the tension was accumulating point by point as well as fatigue.

At the end of the set, you were almost breathless. You wiped your face with the shirt's edge, resuming your position.

Generally, you didn't stay on the team very much because your physique had to endure the physical gap, consuming more energy. You always had to jump higher than you should have against a women's team, run faster to get the edge, and your stamina wasn't as infinite as Hinata's. You also began to feel the stress of having to replace Tsukishima and keep everyone's expectations high.

No, I can't give up.

You could feel the breath of Shiratorizawa on your neck, and when you looked around, after the last point of the opponents, you felt the floor fail under your feet.

No matter how well we played, it was as impossible to detach the Shiratorizawa.

You gritted your teeth, shaking your head, as Ushijima's face painted that self-righteous look you hated so much.

"No matter how hard you try, the result will always be the same," he stated in front of the net, observing from above your petite figure bent on his knees in fatigue, "We will win."

The grip of your fingers tightened on your knees as you barely restrained a curse.

It wasn't supposed to end like this, no, no!

"DON'T DARE TO LOOK DOWN!" Ukai's scream crossed the two fields like lightning.

You raised your head, observing him with wide eyes, and at that same moment, the gym doors opened, while Tsukishima ran on the edge again of the field under the astonished gaze of all of you.

You saw the coach give him the card with your number for the change, despite the bandaged hand, and stand on the bench waiting to enter the field.

You sighed in relief, thank goodness, he's okay then.

That probably would have been your last point and the last of the game if Shiratorizawa had scored, you couldn't lose, not now.

The serve was from Shiratorizawa, a float that Daichi managed to intercept, but the opponents were able to predict your attack, and it was once again the chance for Ushijima to score.

By the time your brain processed that information, the adrenaline was already circulating in your blood.

Your heart was beating against your ribs until it rumbled in your eardrums, you did not feel the fatigue in your legs as they sprinted towards the ball, predicting where the lifter would pass it Wakatoshi. "I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO MAKE THIS POINT!" you shouted, throwing yourself with all the strength you had to reinforce Kageyama and Asahi's double block.

Focused on the ball, you did not notice the shiny spot on the floor, and when the toe landed on it, it slipped.

"(Y / N)!" someone shouted from the bench, but you ignored him, miraculously catching yourself with the other leg and throwing yourself into the air before it was too late.

It doesn't matter how ... but I have to slow down that ball..., you thought, gritting your teeth, trying in every way to give yourself as much elevation as possible with just one foot.

The pain was sharp, and for a moment, your vision blurred until it was completely dark.

The only thing you could see was the little lights shining behind your eyelids, the intense stab of pain radiating from the center of your face to your neck's base, and something warm dripping down your chin.

You had managed to reach the ball, but despite having recovered from the fall, the elevation you had given yourself with only one leg was not enough. The ball had hit you in the face as you were approaching the net in midair without succeeding to raise your hands, still busy trying to regain your balance.

You heard someone shout your name behind you, and you didn't know where the ball was or what was going on on the pitch.

There was just that twinge of pain at the base of your nose, but maybe that was what kept you conscious and clear enough to make you scream, "THE BALL!" before you hit the ground.

The last thing you perceived was the sound of heartfelt footsteps, and finally, the referee's whistle marked the point.

When you found the courage to open your eyes, the rest of your companions were around you, first of all, Nishinoya "(Y / N)! Are you okay?"

You closed your eyelids, grabbing your nose with one hand, before lifting your head to stop the blood from continuing to come out.

"Did we... did we score?" you whispered between your teeth, barely holding back an expression of pain.

The rest of the team stared at you as if you were mad.

"Yes," was Kageyama, who answered, pointing to the scoreboard.

"Thank goodness ..." you sighed in relief, before meeting Nishinoya's stern gaze.

"You should worry about your condition!" number 4 scolded her, bending over to better observe the wound while muttering, "I told you not to reduce yourself like this" "I slipped ..." you murmured, looking away as if it were an excuse. Kiyoko ran to bring you a towel from the bench while Nishinoya continued to stare at you, worried, "We will win for you too."

You smiled, nodding, before turning around. "I count on it."

"You should go and show yourself in the infirmary ..." Coach Ukai began after giving the okay to Tsukishima to enter your seat.

"NO!" you snapped, pointing your feet, all those present looked at you with wide eyes. "It will stop bleeding soon! And then ..." you turned around to observe the rest of the team from over your shoulder, "and then I can't leave them right now" you turned around, following the coach with eyes shining with pain and emotion. "Please!"

He looked away, sighing in resignation. "As soon as the match is over, run to the nurse without making a fuss, am I clear?"

Your face lit up as you nodded.

Fortunately, the blood stopped coming out a few minutes later, while Kiyoko patiently helped you clean the one encrusted on the skin, you stared with bated breath the rest of the game.

They were the last points.

And then it came.

Karasuno was missing only one point to go home winners. Only one.

The entire team rose into the air to crush Kageyama's riser.

At that moment, the air vibrated.

You couldn't take your eyes off your teammates as Hinata finally hit the ball on the second line. You held your breath.

Shiratorizawa's Libero shot for the dunk, but he was too slow, the ball touched his forearm and took the wrong trajectory going out of bounds.

You jumped to your feet, heart pounding, as Shiratorizawa's number 4 dashed over the baseline to retrieve it.

But the ball was too far. It flew over the linesman and fell to the ground.

For a long, unending, second no one in the gym spoke.

Time had stopped until the referee whistled the point for Karasuno. The decisive one.

We won...

And the cry from the stands rose so high that your eardrums were shaking, while the Karasuno team remained motionless, still incredulous.

Asahi, Daichi and Sugawara, were the first to move with tentative steps, looking for each other. They were hugging each other, letting out a scream that seemed to have remained in their hearts too long as they cried like little boys.

And after them, everyone followed.

Completely forgetting the promise made to the coach, you threw yourself on the field along with the other reserves, completely ignoring the sore nose and red face as warm tears had started running down your cheeks.

You must have looked awful, sweaty, aching, and in a vale of tears, but you didn't care.

None of that mattered now, as you screamed into the arms of your companions, still incredulous.

And amid those black uniforms, your arms instinctively sought the only orange stain.

Nishinoya fell to the ground as you clung to his neck, sinking your face against his chest as your tears wiped from his shirt.

"We won! We won!" you repeated ad nauseam before looking up at Yu.

Had he always been this good-looking? With that cheeky smile painted on his lips, the sweaty hair and skin reflecting the gym lights, those big hazel eyes so bright, and that cute blush that spread over the tip of his nose and cheeks when you were near him?

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, laughing, completely ignoring the embarrassment of having you on top of him. "I didn't think you would keep your promise so soon," he admitted pausing to study your face.

Suddenly, you remembered the condition you were supposed to be in and again hid your face on his chest. "Don't look at me! I'm horrible right now!" you begged him, trying to get away, but Nishinoya's grip tightened, preventing it.

"You have never been more beautiful."

Your heart skipped a beat at those words.

You slowly looked up, and you could see in his big brown eyes that he wasn't lying, he couldn't, looking at you with so much admiration.

When you became aware of your actions again, your lips were already pressed against Nishinoya's.

His lips were soft and slightly salty from the sweat. There was a sweetish aftertaste that you would not have known how to identify, but that you liked to the point of pressing your mouth harder against his. Perhaps, you did it even a little out of desperation, hoping that that gesture would stimulate him to do anything.

Yu remained motionless, completely blown away. He was staring at you with wide eyes, peering at your face pressed against his trying to register what was happening.

Holding you close to him was the right stimulus to awaken him, finally bringing him back to reality.

His hands ran through your hair, trying to get you closer than you already were to him, and he closed his eyes, tasting the numbness of your lips against his.

It was a quick, hasty, clumsy kiss, but it was perfect that way.

"Damn ..." a voice above you suddenly made you remember where you were.

Tanaka towered above both of you as he stretched his knuckles, with the rest of the team behind him staring at you, embarrassed, amused, and even a little amazed.

"Um... we should line up... you know?" Sugawara interjected, uncertain, pointing to the back of the field. "As soon as you finished ..." he added with a more mischievous smile, winking at Nishinoya, who jumped up, red in the face, under the steely gaze of Tanaka.

"Why did you only get the girls?!" the shaved-haired boy cried in frustration as he dragged a still slowed Nishinoya with him, too busy throwing glances over his shoulder to focus on his friend's words.

You found yourself smiling dreamily, red in the face, as you followed your teammates along the bottom line, taking a seat next to Yu.

Number 4's hand clenched together with yours as he winked at you before bowing to the other team, "Always behind you, watching your back."

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masterjedilenawrites · 4 years ago

Text

May the Books Be With You: Din Djarin and Grogu

Welcome to May the Books Be With You, a bookstore that is simultaneously cozy and crazy, located in all times and all places, housing a multitude of words and pages. As the store owner, you take pride in finding the perfect story for any creature that makes its way through your doors. Whether it's a historical narrative for an amphibious Jedi, a calming romance for a battle-weary clone trooper, or a fun collection of children's poems for a new Mandalorian father... Your store has it all, and you are more than eager to help every patron walk away with their next happily ever after.

Din Djarin and Grogu

It had been a rather slow day for you, the kind that usually made you restless and just a little mad. It hardly surprised you this time of year, with the weather being so nice and the trade season starting to pick up. It was not the best time to hunker down with a book. But that understanding did not help pass the time by any easier. You wished you had saved your weekly shelf dusting for today. Instead, you had squeezed it into the same day as you'd stocked the new shipment and paid the utility bills, like a dumbass.

By mid-afternoon, you had completed yet another round of pacing through the shelves, realigning books that weren't actually askew, pretending you hadn't seen some of the titles before and skimming the first few pages. You made your way back to the front counter and let yourself bend over it with a frustrated huff.

Stretching yourself over the wooden surface felt nice. Just as you were starting to think maybe you could try some yoga moves, there was the familiar jingle of the little bell on the front door handle. You jolted upright, hoping the customer hadn't noticed you unprofessionally, and probably unflatteringly, contorting yourself over the counter.

"Good day," you smiled up at the unusual figure standing awkwardly in the entrance. He was entirely clad in what looked to be beskar armor, with a shiny helmet, flowing cape, straps of ammo across his chest, and what looked to be some sort of weapon poking up from behind his back. He had a bag slung over one shoulder, and nestled in the crook of it by his hip, was a little green creature.

You knew from your perusal of certain demographic books that your customer of the day was a Mandalorian. The T-shaped visor alone was indication enough, but you were aware of the significance of beskar, too; Mandalorian iron, it was sometimes called out in these parts. It was also safe to assume that he was some sort of bounty hunter.

But the creature at his side gave you pause. You were sure you had seen its kind before, but you couldn't pinpoint any specific names or memories. Whatever its species, it sure was adorable. Its eyes blinked slowly while its large ears quirked from side to side as it took in its surroundings. It held a curiosity that most of your customers tended to have, despite it seeming so young. You felt your smile lingering as you gazed at it.

The Mandalorian took a few hesitant steps inside, turning his helmeted head around slowly.

"Can I help you find anything?" you asked, used to this kind of behavior. Sometimes people came into your quirky little shop with a purpose, while others simply ended up there, unsure why they felt compelled to enter, and unable to walk away. As if pulled in by a magical force.

The Mandalorian shifted. "Um, I was hoping to find something for the little one."

His voice was filtered through his helmet, but you could still hear the shyness, how he carefully enunciated his words, how he seemed to be hiding his true nature.

You came from around the counter, still beaming at the "the little one" in the pouch. Its face titled up at you and its little hands grasped at each other in comfort.

"Did you have anything in mind?" You looked between creature and helmet, hoping one of them would give you something useful to go off of. You had a knack for finding the right book for the right person, but you needed some kind of starting point.

The Mandalorian shrugged. "Some kind of activity? Something to keep him busy, so he stops messing with the buttons on my ship."

He said the last part more quietly, like he didn't mean to be upset about it but still found it tiresome. You briefly wondered what their connection was. It wasn't often you saw a bounty hunter toting around a kid, and of a vastly different species, no less.

But you pushed that thought aside so you could consider the challenge at hand. An activity book....

"This way," you said after a beat, as you headed down an isle toward your left.

The shelves weren't arranged in a pattern, and the books on them weren't in a logical order, either. You liked it that way. It ensured you would always be needed.

You snaked through a few rows before arriving at your destination, the Mandalorian and his little friend directly behind. You stooped to wiggle out a thin book from one of the lower shelves and splayed it open between you and your customers.

"Maybe something like this?" you asked, slowly flipping between the pages so he could see. Each page was a photo of a whole mess of random objects; brightly colored marbles and unique figurines and letters in funky fonts and countless other items that made for an interesting landscape.

"There's prompts to find certain objects," you explained, "but even if he can't read, it's still fun to look at.

The Mandalorian brought the satchel around and you lowered the book so the child could see it.

"What do you think?" the Mandalorian asked him. The child cooed and held his hand out at it, his eyes unblinking as it scanned over the open page. The Mandalorian chuckled a little. "Looks like we'll take it."

You happily handed the book over, but you didn't feel fully satisfied. You squinted your eyes into the distance, feeling like there was more this odd duo could use.

"Do you read to him?" you asked, though you didn't wait for an answer. You headed off down the isle and turned the corner.

"I don't really have the time..." the Mandalorian said. He pulled up as he came around the corner and found you crouched at the end cap.

"Here," you said, having found what you were looking for. You didn't display it this time, passing it to him confidently. "It's a book of poems. Nothing fancy or weird. They're really cute. Most are short, too, so it'll fit into your busy schedule."

You winked playfully, but couldn't tell if he'd noticed or was looking at the book instead. He opened it and carefully thumbed through the pages with a gloved hand. You added, just as an extra selling point, "Most kids like being read to. It's comforting. Helps them grow."

The helmet titled up a bit and nodded at you.

"Okay."

Maybe you were imagining it, but he sounded just a little excited. You held back a self-satisfied grin and instead looked down at the kid in question. The Mandalorian followed your gaze and you both noticed the creature had pulled a book off the shelf next to him. He somehow seemed even more enamored with this one than he had the other book.

"What do you have there?" The Mandalorian angled the book to get a better look at the cover and you laughed. It had the silhouette of a man's head covered in chainmail. You suspected it reminded the kid of his own armor-clad caretaker.

"It's a story about a hero defeating monsters and becoming king of the land," you explained. "It's been translated from a very old language, so it might be difficult to read aloud. But it's a good story, so might be worth it."

The Mandalorian sighed. "Then I guess we'll take that one too."

He fished out some coins from his pocket and deposited them into your hand. You followed the pair back to the front of the store, wishing you'd found a way to keep them here longer, but recognizing the life of a bounty hunter meant keeping on the move.

"I hope you two find your way back here again someday," you said in parting. The Mandalorian paused with a hand on the doorknob, his helmet glinting in the afternoon sun that poured through the windowed doors. "I'd even watch the little guy for you, if you needed."

The Mandalorian chuckled, a soft and pleasant sound. "I just may take you up on that offer. Thank you for your help."

He gave you one last nod as he pushed through the doors. You tried waving at the child, but he was too busy cooing at all his new books. You watched as they made their way down the street and out of sight, and then turned back toward your empty store.

Now, about that yoga....

Book Inspiration:

I Spy: A Book of Picture Riddles, Scholastic publishing

Where the Sidewalk Ends, by Shel Silverstein

Beowulf, translation by Seamus Heaney

AO3 link

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #din djarin & reader #grogu & reader #reader insert #bookstore au #books #may the books be with you #anthology #one shot #repost because tumblr ate my other one

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