#so I finally finished writing the last PARAGRAPH I had planned and tossed it out to the world

[crazy-grrrl-on-the-computer]

Sweet Irony - Girly411 - Merlin (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Relationships: Merlin & Arthur

Rating: G

Summary: When outsiders come to Camelot and shake things up, the occasional unwelcome house guest becomes the least of Prince Arthur’s worries.

Chapters 1 and 2 found on AO3 and FFN.

Note: These chapters were written in the style of the season 1 era humorous FFN fics of the day. They were edited a bit to correct some mistakes but have otherwise remained untouched. I have plans to continue the story on AO3 if the universe sees it fit and ideally the writing will be more solid moving forward as the story continues to evolve.

[heartcal]

“who do you believe?”; l.h.

Disclaimer: i didn’t want to write sierra as a bad person because i personally cannot see that, and i know there’s some discourse about her within in the fandom but i don’t want any of that here! so i named the girlfriend after a girl who bullied me in elementary school lol (but another disclaimer: i do not want to see any hate towards the boys’ s/o! pls don’t send any asks that talks bad about them, i will not answer them!)

thank you for requesting! :^)

a/n: while transfering this from microsoft word, the formatting kept screwing up for some reason so if there are some janky paragraphs, i apologize! not too comfortable with this one compared to my previous fic (this feels rushed) but it is long and i did not mean for that to happen lol. enjoy!

if there are any mistakes, please tell me!

pairing(s): not really a mention of luke hemmings x reader but it’s mostly luke hemmings x named gf (rachel/oc) (gender neutral but if i slipped up, please let me know!)

summary: having known luke for years, it was bound to happen eventually. the crush you developed happened before you could stop it, and you did your best to keep it a secret. you told no one, did your best not to show it, so what do you do when his girlfriend finds out?

genre: angst, and mostly angst >:^)

warnings: swearing, luke’s gf being mean, bullying?

wc: 4,057 (she’s a long one)

my masterlist!

You don’t know when it happened, or frankly how it happened, but one thing is for sure: you don’t want to feel this way.

Was it when he bought you a stuffed animal version of a pet you had as a kid, one that you remember so fondly and still tear up about it to this day? Or was it when he would always bring back a certain candy you can only find in its country of origin, and bring as much as customs would allow? Maybe it was when he printed out every photo he could find from the beginning of your friendship to the present day (at that time) and made a scrapbook for your birthday since you cherish memories?

Whatever memory it was, you want to track it down and destroy it. It wasn’t fair that you developed such strong feelings for your best friend, knowing he doesn’t feel the same since he’s taken.

It’s not that he isn’t attractive – far from that because if anything, you wish you could draw just so you can draw him because there’s no way someone can look that good – but it’s more of the fact that he’s your best friend, someone you hold dear to you.

You two grew up together; saw each other’s worst phases, styles, and embarrassing moments (it was well documented towards the middle of the scrapbook). He was with you when you went through bad break-ups, and you with him. Throughout school, you two were inseparable, and when the band got big he made sure to keep you close and to never lose contact. It was hard in the beginning but you two managed.

Now finished with college, you’ve taken on the role of working with the team when they’re on tour and helping plan aesthetics for the next album. He offered the jobs after you struggled to find a job after graduation, and in the end, you enjoyed being with the guys and doing the tasks needed.

Tonight, the band was set to play their new album to an intimate crowd. It was to welcome back old fans and welcome new fans, introducing both sides to a new sound they worked hard on. You couldn’t be any more proud.

You sat on the couch as the guys walked around the room, pepping themselves up and hyping each other. You had finished doing your tasks with the crew and spent your free time watching the band prepare as the audience began to fill in the theater seats.

A nudge on your arm makes you direct your eyes from Michael styling his hair with a nervous expression to the person on your left.

“What’s up?” you asked, smiling at the curly-haired individual.

Luke shrugs, glancing around the room before his eyes land back on you. He has a small smile on his face as he leans back onto the couch, “Nothing.”

You scoff, shaking your head with a smile, “Yeah, sure, ‘nothing,’” you mimic, tilting your head to the side, “I doubt that.”

“What do you want me to say?”

You give him an incredulous look, crossing your arms as you turn to face him. You can tell he’s nervous, like the rest of the team and the band, but he won’t admit it. He’s always wanted others to view him as strong and unbothered, especially when those around him feel off.

He mirrors your position, a smirk on his lips because he knows you’re about to lecture him.

And he’s right.

“Your band has a new album out in a couple of days—an album you guys have worked hard on even when your management gave you shit, mind you—and you’re about to perform a majority of the songs in front of 500. Are you not nervous?”

He shakes his head, smugly smiling as he returns to his position leaning against the couch, watching Ashton dry the wet ends of his hair.

“Liar,” you mumble, uncrossing your arms and taking your phone out to check the time.

“Alright,” Luke sighs, giving in, “maybe I’m a little nervous, but I’m not a wreck.”

He’s still a liar. The success of their last album was astounding, so creating an album to reach that level and hopefully top it was hard enough. Playing it in front of an intimate crowd who may or may not like it was tough.

Luke isn’t cocky. He’s a humble man, but he likes to joke around in stressful situations. He’s used to concerts, so he doesn’t have any anxiety when it comes to performing. But when he is nervous for any reason, he won’t show it. He’ll act cool, completely collected with his head held high in confidence. If he needs to relieve the stress, he’ll either do it himself with a strong pep talk, or he’ll go to you.

“What are you nervous about?” You ask, wanting to make him feel better.

“Will they like it? Will it even chart? Is it too bold?” he continues listing out his insecurities about the album and the performance, finally lifting everything off his chest.

And you listen. The way his eyes stare into yours with slight confidence, covered by worry makes your heart sore. Luke’s kept everything inside and now that he’s listing his grievances, it makes you wonder just what else you can get out of him that he’s kept buried inside.

However, before you can give him your insight on this particular problem, “Luke!”

His head immediately turns to the door, the worry in his eyes fading out into sheer happiness and adoration. Something you’ve always wanted to see directed towards you.

Luke stands arms wide as he captures his girlfriend in his arms for a hug. Her arms wrap around his waist as his arms go around her shoulders, dipping his head down to kiss her on the head.

“I can’t believe you made it!” you hear him speak with excitement, expressing more words of happiness as he guides her to another part of the room.

You don’t miss the way her eyes glare in your direction, and you’re not afraid to give her a look back.

Rachel was nice when you met her. You actually liked her, despite your crush on Luke, and you were rooting for the two. But, a couple months ago during a stressful week, she turned on you. Her attitude towards you shifted, almost as if you had disrespected her and her bloodline. She would always act as if you weren’t in the room, and when plans were made with the boys, she would “accidentally” leave you out. It was embarrassing for you when you’d find out your friends went out, calling you to find out why you didn’t come. Due to the embarrassment, you would go along with it, making up some excuse as to why you were absent.

None of the boys, to your knowledge at least, have caught on to her antics, and you honestly hope they don’t. Whatever it is you did to her, you want to find out for yourself so you can fix it.

With a sigh, you stand from the couch, stretching your arms briefly before wandering to Calum, who stood in the shower room connected to the dressing room.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a warm smile.

He smiles back, finishing his drink before tossing the plastic cup in the trash. He grabs his bass, which was placed on the counter, and holds it out to you.

“You want me to see if it sounds out of tune?” you jokingly ask.

He nods, “Yeah, I feel like one of the chords might be flat.”

You chuckle as you pluck a random chord. His instruments are always tuned before it’s time to play. One of his pre-show nervous ticks was the constant doubt of his instruments being playable.

“It’s fine, Calum.”

The doubt shows on his face as he brings his guitar back to himself, putting it on and checking the chords himself, but it doesn’t last long as Ashton’s voice calls everyone to the center of the room.

Walking with Calum to where the rest of the crew was, you notice how attached Luke was to Rachel. Joint at the hip, arms wrapped around each other; it was annoying.

“Show starts in ten,” Ashton gains your attention, holding up a cup as Michael hands Calum a similar cup before doing the same to Luke. The three follow the drummer’s action as he continues, “let’s make this show fuckin’ awesome.”

The crew cheers, dying down quickly as Michael gives his thoughts, “We worked our asses off for this album, I don’t have any doubts about it. We got this, guys!”

The cheers resume as those with a drink take a celebratory sip before placing their empty cup on a surface near them.

Calum leaves your side to join Michael while Ashton heads to you.

“You excited?” he asks, putting his right arm around your shoulders with a large smile.

“Yeah!” you return the smile, “What about you? Nervous like the others?”

He shakes his head, crinkling his nose, “I’m not too nervous. I’m just happy to play again.”

You’re about to ask him what song he was the most excited to play, starting to get into the conversation but yet again you are interrupted by Rachel.

“Hey, Ash,” she greets him, Luke following close behind her as his arms make their way back around her shoulders again.

“Hi, Rachel,” Ashton nods his head at her – his eyes dance to Luke briefly before returning to Rachel’s, “didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Couldn’t miss your big show,” she smiles, looking up at her boyfriend as she pats his stomach.

Luke laughs, gently pushing her hand away from him, “I’m surprised, too—“ he grabs the guitar a crew member hands him, left arm lifting itself from Rachel’s shoulder as he slips the strap over his head, “—because her schedule did not look clear enough, but here she is.”

“Three minutes,” a different crew member rushes out, patting Luke and Ashton’s shoulders before rushing to tell the others.

“See you after,” Luke shifts his guitar away from Rachel before leaning down to kiss her on the lips – something you wish you didn’t see – and turning around to head out of the dressing room.

Ashton gives you a quick hug, “Excited for the lights,” he mumbles in your ear before turning to Rachel to give her a side hug.

It doesn’t go unnoticed how Rachel’s eyes glared at you by Ashton, but he doesn’t mention it as he heads out with the other guys towards the stage.

As a majority of the crew follow them out, you stay behind to clean up the empty cups and other trash, trying to occupy yourself as Rachel too stayed behind.

Her eyes followed you as you moved about the room, carrying the small plastic bag with you as it fills up with cups and wrappers. You could feel the glare burning into your side and back as you paid her no mind.

When it was just you two left, the bass from their opening song was heard and felt as you finished picking up the garbage.

“For how long have you liked Luke?”

You froze. Your head whipped towards Rachel, wide-eyed as you glanced around the room to make sure it was just the two of you.

“What…what are you talking about?” You can feel an extreme warmth rising up from the bottom of your back, all the way to your face, nervousness clouding your brain as she stares you down.

“Luke—,” she crosses her arms and moves to the couch, “how long have you liked Luke?”

“I don’t—I,” you stutter, your stomach dropping as you realize you’ve been caught.

His girlfriend knows you like him.

“Cut the bullshit,” she spits, “I can see it. You’ve been friends with him for years, you obviously caught feelings for him.”

You shake your head, standing up straight to give off the illusion of confidence. Turning your back to her and towards the door, “I don’t have to talk to you.”

You opted for walking out of the dressing room and go watch the band from the side of the stage, but you made a quick stop in the bathroom to splash cold water on your face.

You did what you could to avoid her during their performance. You knew she was watching you, seething at how you ended the conversation so fast.

Rachel wanted to break you down, find the reason why you like him and separate you two for as long as it takes to make him fall in love with her. She finds you a problem in their relationship because of how close you and Luke are, because of how long you’ve known each other. A threat to her and her relationship.

An hour and a half later, the show is finished and the whoops and cheers from the crowd indicate the album was very well received. That thought swept the interaction with Rachel from earlier under the rug as the boys’ adrenaline spread throughout the crew.

Ashton was first to greet you, sweaty and ready to envelop you in a hug but you’re quick to avoid it, ducking down just as his arms closed around the space where your head was. He laughs it off, heading for his next victim.

Next was Calum, who grabbed a drink from Andy and gulped it down. He had a smile on his face after, only growing wider when he saw you. “I think they liked it!”

“Bass in tune, huh?” you return, patting his back as he passes you to go to the next person.

Michael is the third, taking off his hat (which made you question why he was so worried about his hairstyle that he spent at least fifteen minutes playing with before the show). He stops in front of you, phone in hand as he takes a picture of the two of you: a tradition he started a few tours ago as a joke.

Finally, Luke makes his way towards you, ready to ramble about the show but is brisked away by Rachel. He doesn’t even glance over at you after he’s taken away towards the hall.

Entering the dressing room where the rest of the boys sat, you saw Michael talking animatedly on the phone, Calum laying across the couch with an arm over his eyes, and Ashton wiping off excess sweat with a towel. He was the first one to notice you.

“Ready for that hug?” he asks as you approach him.

“Why not.”

You hug each other, smiling as you pulled away. In the distance, over the cool-down music, you hear Luke’s laughter in the hall. Knowing he’s with Rachel makes you wonder if she’s told him about her suspicions, and that thought alone makes you clam up all over again.

Ashton immediately notices, tilting his head as he asks you what’s wrong.

“Nothing,” you quickly reply, eyes focusing on him.

He notices how jittery you seem, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable so he says nothing.

“Guys,” Andy comes in with his camera in hand, “we need to take a few photos.”

The three agree and follow the photographer out. You move to the snack table for a bottle of water, but before you can take a sip, someone clears their throat in the doorway.

You roll your eyes immediately because you know who it is. You don’t pay her any attention and instead take the sip of water you need.

“We need to finish that conversation you oh-so rudely ended,” Rachel moves into the room, keeping her voice down as she crosses her arms.

“We don’t need to finish anything.”

She scoffs, “I asked you a question, and you were so quick to avoid it. I think you’re proving a point.”

“What point?” you turn to look at her, “I know you don’t like me but I don’t know why, can we start with that?”

“Like I said before, I know you like Luke. He’s my boyfriend, and I don’t like how he’s close to you.”

“We grew up together,” you state, standing tall as you glare at her, “of course we’re going to be close.”

“Well I don’t like it,” she huffs.

You shake your head with a sigh, closing the lid to the bottle as you turn your back to her. You were getting angry at the fact that someone who didn’t know Luke as long as you did was hinting that you should stay away from him.

“Stop hanging out with him.”

A curt laugh escapes you before you can stop it, “Are you jealous of our friendship?”

“No,” she smirks, “but I know you’re jealous of our relationship.”

She’s right; you’re only a little jealous of their relationship, but it’s not something you want to risk your friendship with.

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but you’re caught off-guard when nothing comes out. The one opportunity to make her believe you don’t like her boyfriend and you can’t say anything.

Giving up with sinking shoulders, you glance at the door before looking back at her. Grimacing at her knowing smile, “How did you find out?”

She hums, “It was easy. I love him, so I know what it looks like to look at someone you love. You made it so obvious, I’m surprised no one else found out!”

You grit your teeth. You did your damn best to make sure no one, especially Luke or Rachel, know how you feel about him.

“I’m not intimidated by you,” she walks closer to you, arms uncrossing as her hands move to her hips, “but I won’t deny the fact that you and Luke have chemistry.”

“What will it take—” you place the bottle back on the table, “—for you to leave me alone?”

“Do the same to him.”

“What?”

“Leave him alone, unfriend him,” she shrugs, “simple as that.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you walk around her to the door, ready to end the conversation.

“Do that or I’ll tell him,” with a harsh tone she walks towards you, grabbing your arm to stop you from walking.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Okay,” another voice from the doorway makes the two of you jump, “that’s enough.”

Ashton walks into the room, grabbing Rachel’s hand and removing it from your arm.

“W—” she stutters out as she watches the tall man move to stand in front of you.

“I came back for my drumsticks—” his eyes shift to the object sticking out of his bag before dropping down to Rachel, “—but instead I find you, what, threatening a good friend of ours?”

Rachel is speechless while you’re frozen. It was embarrassing enough for one person to find out about your crush on Luke, but now Ashton might know and you want to go into hiding.

“Let it go,” you tug on Ashton’s shirt to get his attention but he doesn’t move.

“Telling someone who’s known your boyfriend longer than your relationship to just abandon him is low, Rachel. Don’t think the way you’ve been treating our friends has gone unnoticed.”

You hear more footsteps approaching the room, and now you wish the ground can swallow you up. You don’t want all this attention on you.

“What’s happening here?” Michael says as he peeks into the room, Luke behind him as Calum leans against the other side of the doorway.

“Nothing—,” Rachel tries to deflect but with four pairs of eyes on her, it becomes too much. Tears start pouring out, and you’re in disbelief.

How can she be the one crying after she was the one who was rude to you?

Luke immediately rushes in, creating a beeline right to her side to wrap her in his arms.

His eyes dart to yours, an emotion on his face of something you’ve never seen, but you know it’s not good.

“What did you do?”

You’re taken back by his tone and the way his angry eyes stare you down. It hurts because instead of staying neutral and finding out what exactly happened, he immediately chose a side: a side of someone he’s known for only for a short amount of time.

“Mate,” Ashton speaks up for you, “I think you’re asking the wrong person that.”

“No,” Luke’s voice raises, eyes moving from yours to stare into his band mate’s, “I’m asking the right person.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes welling with tears as the weight of everything happening within the last ten minutes starts to bring you down. Your eyes move away from the ones boring into yours, and with a tremble in your voice, “I didn’t do anything. She’s the one who started—.”

“Bullshit!” Luke’s roar cuts you off, “Absolute bullshit, because if she started it, then why is she the only one crying?!”

The two other guys move in to the room to mediate the situation.

“Luke, calm down,” Michael’s hands raise to the motion of ‘calm down’ as he tries to get Luke’s attention.

“There’s gotta be more to the story,” Calum moves to your side, checking on you briefly.

“Don’t,” Luke states as he watches Calum grab your shoulders to move you out of the room.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Ashton questions. He watches Luke soothingly rub Rachel’s back, wiping her tears with his free hand.

“My girlfriend is crying and you two were the only ones in here,” Luke replies, gently grabbing Rachel’s arms so he can look directly into her eyes, “what happened, babe?”

“I asked them—,” Rachel sniffles, continuing her façade, “—if they needed any help cleaning the room earlier and they yelled at—at me and told me to go away. Then after the show when you guys went for your photos, I came here to apologize to her, even though I didn’t do anything wrong.”

She was selling it; the tears, the sniffling, the stutters, and hiccups. A great actress who knows what she wants.

“That’s not true,” you inhale, your ears feeling warm and ringing, “she has had a problem with me lately and I don’t know why!”

Luke scoffs, shaking his head, wrapping Rachel in his arms again.

“C’mon,” Michael mumbles, wanting to leave the room.

Ashton turns around, watching your face go from pleading to blank as the tears fall from your eyes. He turns his head to face Luke, “You’re unbelievable,” he grabs your shoulders and starts to move you out of the room, “let’s go.”

Michael is already out of the room, the tension too much for him and ruining the after-show vibe. Calum is waiting by the door ready to help lead you out. Ashton has you turned around, pushing you towards the door.

“Wait, Luke,” you mumble, getting out of Ashton’s hold and turning back to face Luke.

He doesn’t look at you, sighing as he rubs Rachel’s head as it’s against his chest.

“Please,” you plead, begging him to look at you and when he does, you ask, “who do you believe?”

“What?”

“Who do you believe, Luke,” you gulp with a sniffle, “me or her?”

For a moment, you think you see hesitation. His jaw tenses as he stares you down, his best friend for years and someone he turned to when times got tough. He then looks down at the girl in his arms, someone he loves crying into his chest.

He sighs again, this time soft, before looking up to meet your eyes. He does notice the tears, the pain etched on your face as his other best friends watch them. “I believe Rachel.”

“This is fucking stupid,” Ashton mutters as he gently grabs your shoulders again to lead you out of the room.

You let the tears fall freely, not meeting any of the boys’ eyes as you kept your head face down.

You’ve lost your best friend. He chose someone else over you, a lie he chose to believe.

Whatever it was that made you catch feelings for your best friend, you wish you can find it and destroy it, along with any other memory you’ve made with him. After tonight, you want him erased from your cherished memories.

---

part two!

[crow-in-a-teapot]

tower of nero spoilers

i have just finished the tower of nero. and before i go searching for other people’s thoughts and art and more of the characters i love so much, i want to write down some of my own thoughts because i know as soon as i delve into that ‘ton spoilers’ hashtag there are going to be complaints and criticisms and so much that i don’t want to hear, or essays that’ll make me upset, or things that’ll change my perception on the book (because on this website people really love to hate the trials of apollo).

i want to start with: i loved it. it didn’t feel earth-shattering or huge and momentous like some of my favourite riordanverse books (house of hades, the blood of olympus, the last olympian and maybe some of the magnus chase books take those pedestals for me) but it was satisfying. and i think it was satisfying because it in no way felt like an ending. whether because eventually rick will write that will-and-nico-go-through-tartarus-and-save-bob novella, or because we (or at least i) will continue writing and imagining and creating for this world i don’t know. he didn’t wrap up the story in a perfect little bow like ‘nineteen years later’, he simply put it on pause. gave us a glimpse of where every character was at at the end.

the only thing that makes me so angry and upset is that i did manage to get some spoilers for moments that i know would have been so good to experience for the first time if i hadn’t been spoiled for them. the moment where rachel mentions penguins in a mansion near her house, nico getting mental health advice from mr d, the fact that will and nico were going to be in the book for so much of the story, but the big thing was literally spoiled for me two days ago, it was the reason i sat down to read it as fast as possible because i was terrified of getting more spoiled and not being able to experience the moments for myself, was that piper had a girlfriend. i know that reading that for the first time would have been so cool and surprising, and the fact that when it came up for a moment in the last couple pages all i felt was disappointment because it was spoiled for me and because it was now tinged with whatever that person was saying about her having a girlfriend.

but i still had some warm fuzzy moments, the two parts where apollo thinks he’s going to die but nico comes up behind him - so good. impeccable. 

Leader Guy spat. ‘Now, I kill you.’

He raised his sword... and froze. His face turned pale. His skin began to shrivel. His beard fell out whisker by whisker like dead pine needles. Finally, his skin crumbled away, along with his clothes and flesh, until Leader Guy was nothing but a bleached-white skeleton, holding a sword in his bony hands. 

Standing behind him, his hand on the skeleton’s shoulder, was Nico di Angelo.

and

Nero raised his hand, ready to give the kill command, when behind me a mighty BOOM! shook the chamber. Half our enemies were thrown off their feet. Cracks sprouted in the windowsand the marble columns. Ceiling tiles broke, raining dust like split bags of flour. 

I turned to see the impenetrable blast doors lying twisted and broken, a strangely emaciated red bull standing in the breach. Behind it stood Nico di Angelo.

gods. poetic brilliance. i can’t believe i’m still a nico di angelo stannie in the year 2021. in five years i have not changed (ever since the tv show announcement last summer i have managed to morph into myself from 2017)

from here i’m not sure where to go next i kind of want to go through everything, except it’ll be more difficult than my tyrant’s tomb reaction because i wasn’t reading on a kindle and thus can’t just do funny little reactions to screenshots of quotes, so i’ll just skim through the book page by page and see what i can comment on (i’m not planning on doing analysis today, no thank you, just enjoying the end of my childhood and trying to squeeze as much out of it as possible)

i have an emotional attachment to mr. snake from the very first chapter, and am very upset that he’ll never get off on his baltimore stop and get to see his wife, lu had no reason to shoot and kill him like that.

that brings me to lu, i liked her, it was interesting to see how rick kind of brought in not only the overarching theme of abuse, but also people who let the abuse happen, i have more i could say on this i’m too lazy to right now, and i promised no analysis - or the fact that Lu had conspired to make the show non-lethal to spare Meg’s feelings rather than - oh, I don’t know - refusing to do Nero’s dirty work in the first place and getting Meg out of that house of horrors. 

And are you any better? taunted a small voice in my brain. How many times have you stood up to Zeus?

Okay, small voice. Fair point. Tyrants are not easy to opppose or walk away from, especially when you depend on them for everything.

the parallels to meg and lester heading to percy’s apartment, and then to camp half blood to the hidden oracle was so cool to read, every callback to the hidden oracle just there to remind us readers exactly how far apollo has come and how he’s changed; the entire chapter with sally, paul and estelle just felt sickly sweet, it just didn’t seem real how wholesome and good that family is, like i get why apollo broke down and just sobbed in that shower.

also rick really saying acab again in toa, i thought he was done after that elf cop chapter in magnus chase (the magnus chase series is a masterpiece) but apparently not, with A ‘good cop’ is still a cop... still a part of the mind game.

the grey sisters, i forgot about them completely but this threw me back into was it the sea of monsters when annabeth summoned them? i’m not sure, it could have been the lightning thief either, they really remind me of the disney hercules movie. the whole ganymede paragraph was gold, i love gods being canonically confirmed lgbt in the riordanverse. i also love the whole eye-tossing part - 

‘He will crush our eye,’ Anger cried, ‘if we don’t recite our verses!’

‘I will not!’

‘We will all die!’ Wasp said. ‘He is crazy!’

‘I AM NOT!’

‘Fine, you win!’ Tempest howled.

also, the explanation for why dionysus chooses to look the way he does was perfect, because it was something i often wondered about and wasn’t expecting to get an explanation for, and i imagine the whole mythological dionysus to look like.. well like a more feminine apollo i guess, beautiful in a gender non-comforming way.

Other Olympians could never comprehend why Dionysus chose this form when he could look like anything he wanted. In ancient times, he’d been famous for his youthful beauty that defied gender.

... 

In retaliation, Dionysus had decided to look and act as ungodly as possible. He was like a child refusing to tuck in his shirt, comb his hair or brush his teeth, just to show his parents how little he cared.

every scene with nico at camp just BREAKS ME, i would throw in screenshots of every damn quote but unfortunately, as said above, cannot and would rather not type every one; we’ll start with, obviously apollo confirming to him that jason is dead. 

He didn’t look angry exactly. He looked as if he’d been hit in the gut not just once but so many times over the course of so many years that he was beginning to lose perspective on what it meant to be in pain. He swayed on his feet. He blinked. Then he flinched, jerking his hands away from Meg’s as if he’d just remembered his own touch was poison.

ugh then will talking about how nico’s doing, confirming that he’s suffering with ptsd, mr d giving him advice, helping him sort though what voices in his head are real and which ones aren’t, then the paragraph that just recounts every horrific thing poor nico has been through, how will has to reassure him that he’s okay and ‘with friends’ when he wakes up after shadow travel

will’s kindness to apollo, buying him clothes, and apollo finding seymour the leopard’s head in his bed, put there by mr d aaaa AAAA A A A A A THE ORDINARY, EVERYDAY CAMP HALF BLOOD THINGS..

i could go on for years and years about how much i appreciate rachel having a big role in this book, and the visit to her apartment, everything, her art, the fact that she got what she wanted, she’s going to PARIS to study ART, she isn’t forced to be someone she’s not by her dad, and gets to be a big part of a demigod mission and not stand on the sidelines for once.

i love that her landscapes are still visions, that she still paints the quests demigods go on - the burning maze, jason’s funeral pyre, caligula’s ships; and how nico ~appreciates art~

‘And, hey, di Angelo -’ she pushed him playfully away from the canvas he’d been ogling - ‘don’t brush against the art! I don’t care about the paintings, but if you get any colour on you, you’ll ruin that whole black-and-white aesthetic you’ve got going.’

i. love. rachel.

WILL GLOWS!! THE HEADCANONS FROM LIKE FIVE YEARS AGO THAT YOU’D SEE FLOATING AROUND ABOUT HIM MANIPULATING LIGHT!! CONFIRMED!! CANON!! AMAZING

I AM  OBSESSED WITH THE TROGS, I LOVE THEM, THEY ARE GREAT, not gonna lie, i was expecting something more dramatic and spooky with how worried will was and how dionysus was going.. visiting the cavern-runners isn’t ♫ good for your mental health  ♫ but the little hat frog gremlins were a good addition. i like them very much and their funky little soup shenanigans. quoting the ghost king himself: trogs good. nice hats. (IM SORRY I KEEP MENTIONING HIM BUT I JUST) also how apollo starts wishing for breadsticks a s ajoke and theY STRAIGHT UP HAVE BREADSTICKS? HUH? WHERE DID THEY GET THE BREADSTICKS FROM??

yeah, i’m also still very much upset by every mention of jason grace, it’s funny how ever since his death in the burning maze i have grown to love him more and more and that’s not fun for me, for that boy to become one of my main comfort character’s and have his death and sacrifice and nobility mentioned every few chapters. i’m pretty sure i cried when he appeared to talk in apollo’s dreams, and this time the tears weren’t from the effort of keeping my eyes open and working for hours straight reading this book (i remember staying up until 2am to finish the sequel to beautiful, broken things, it was very much worth it)

‘All right, Jason. We miss you, though.’

ALSO. THE FACT THAT THIS KID. THIS CHILD. HAD TO THINK ‘BUT IF A HERO ISN’T READY TO LOSE EVERYTHING FOR A GREATER CAUSE, IS THAT PERSON REALLY A HERO?’ A KID ISN’T SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT THAT AND BE READY TO SACRIFICE THEMSELVES FOR THE GREATER GOOD,, i,, ugh,, he’s supposed to be finishing school and designing temples not being the perfect hero and soldier,, spain without the s,,

as @couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name said: ‘thinking about how ghost! Jason didn’t seem to understand why Apollo was so upset about his death because he’s been raised to believe a hero’s sacrifice is noble and his life doesn’t matter in the grand scheme and also if he doesn’t understand why the person who watched him get horrifically killed is so torn up over his death he probably doesn’t even realize his other friends are grieving him..’

IM SO UPSET THE ARROW OF DODONA IS DEAD D: IT WAS ONE OF MY FAVOURITE CHARACTERS ALL THE FUNNIEST MOMENTS WERE BECAUSE OF THAT ARROW AND IT'S DEATH WAS SO SAD WTH LIKE WE FIND OUT HOW USELESS THE ARROW FELT AND HOW THE GROVE OF DODONA ALL THOUGHT IT WOULD BE CRAP AND WOULD FAIL APOLLO AND THEN ONCE WE FEEL BAD FOR IT, IT DIES??

the entire python battle was pretty grim, there is a part of me that's like because this is the last book series i would have loved say the magnus chase and kane chronicles gang in a giant battle with everyone like the battle of manhattan but even more dramatic, but even so, i did appreciate that python battle and the whole almost-falling-into-the-depths-of-tartarus thing.

him talking to artemis was cool, but JESUS: 'I turned and strode out of my room, trying to recall how the god Apollo walked.' like that HURTS. it was such a huge culture shock for apollo to go throught this huge character arc and be so human and understand the pain of others, to be around gods again who are so.. apathetic. also, zeus. 'Interesting how he put that: I had done him proud. I had been useful in making him look good. My heart did not melt. I did not feel that this was a warm-and-fuzzy reconciliation with my father. Let's be honest: some fathers don't deserve that. Some aren't capable of it.'

OKAY OKAY SO THE END?? CHIRON TALKING TO A CAT (BAST) AND A SEVERED HEAD (MIMIR) ABOUT SHARED PROBLEMS WITHIN THE PANTHEONS!! WILL AND NICO RECEIVING A PROPHECY FROM RACHEL TO GO TO TARTARUS AND SAVE BOB!! THE HUNTERS OF ARTEMIS, INCLUDING THALIA AND REYNA BEING BEST FRIENDS (qpr.. qpr..) HUNTING THE TEUMESSIAN FOX!! PERCY, ANNABETH AND GROVER, THE ORIGINAL TRIO, GOING ON A CHAOTIC ROAD TRIP TOGETHER!! - SO MANY STAND-ALONE SET -UPS PFSJSJSJ

okay quick word on the reunions at the end: funny little elephant visitation program with livia and hannibal. love that for them. calypso and leo's relationship seems rocky and complicated, but that's to be expected, i think even if they do get properly back together again it might not last long, because it does pretty much feel like a teenage relationship where the two aren't very compatible, but we'll see. hazel and frank are so funny with their gold plated necklaces. lavinia - tap-dance icon. almost cried at the mention of jason's temple-extension plan again. percy not being sure about what he wants to do in college is accurate and i like that that's left to be up-for-interpretation (rick does THE MOST for the fanfic writers pfsjsj). i am OBSESSED with aeithales, like i hate deserts so the burning maze setting is not my favourite but GOD that HOUSE, the vibes are off-the-charts. i'd love a house made of living trees that's also a greenhouse filled with dryads. meg gets a unicorn. that is so great.

i kind of wish the book hadn't ended with 'Call on me. I will be there for you.' because every time I imagine the friends theme song and i don't think that's the vibe he was going for, BUT i do love him talking to meg, that was genuinely emotional - 'You'll come back?' she asked. 'Always,' I promised. 'The sun always comes back.' ; i really wish it had ended with that, but i guess apollo does tend to break fourth walls and talk to the readers, like a lot of the protagonists of riordanverse books.

[i-need-entertainment]

Chronostasis + “If the world was ending”

This is the 19th Oneshot for the Valentines Day Event, thank you so much to @purplefrost21 for requesting Chrono! I went ahead and picked a song, I hope this is okay! If you would like something different, feel free to message me!!

Starting now, I will also be splitting the writings into paragraphs, thank you to the anon who requested this, I appreciate it!

**Also, I wrote the hassaikai how I usually write it, slightly edited cause, ~plot reasons~ Overhaul will be not OOC, but a decent person and yeah**

Warnings- Pregnancy, allusions to iNtiMaCy but obviously no actual smut cause I don’t write it, eensy teensy amount of suggestiveness i gUess??? Not really?? idk but i’ll put it here anyway

Character: Chronostasis x reader

It’s been one year since you and Chrono had decided to call it quits. It’s also been one year since you decided to leave the hassaikai. You had known Chrono since you were 18, you had been down on your luck and had no where to go. That is until Pops found you and brought you in. You were quick to make friends with Chrono, matching his teasing and laid back personality nicely with your own. Four years later and you and Chrono’s friendship had developed into a different type of relationship. 

You often spent your nights together, sneaking around and keeping your relationship under wraps. You loved Chrono, in every sense of the word. You had given him your everything and he had given you his. You both were deeply and madly in love with each other, and you both could honestly see yourselves with each other for the rest of your lives. 

At least, that was the plan...”I think we need to break up.” You remember how the sound of your heart cracking echoed in your ears, your chest felt like 2 tons had been dropped onto your lungs, and time slowed to a pitiful stop. “...what?” He sighed as he took your hands into his, head hung low as he neglected to look you in the eye. “...The hassaikai isn’t what it used to be, it’s not safe for us to have a relationship anymore...I’m sorry Y/n, but I don’t think we should see each other anymore, any pursuit of a relationship would only be a distraction, it’s best if we...don’t see each other any more.” You hastily brought your sleeve to your eye to wipe the tears that had started to fall, trying to keep a smile on your face as you nodded.

 “...okay..” Chrono’s eyes widened, “Are you su-” “Yes.” You patted his knee as you stood, walking to the door of his room, giving him one last ‘smile’, “Good bye Hari.” You left his room, walking to your own and closing your door with a sigh. You sat down on your bed, hands grasping your knees as your sobs broke through, wet tears sliding down your face and onto the jeans you wore. You sat there, painful realization after realization came crashing down on you. ‘we’re done’..’he broke up with me’...’I-I have to do this alone’....’I can’t stay here.’ 

You hiccuped as your eyes widened, you stood and moved to kneel beside your bed, dragging your old suitcase out from under your bed. You packed as much as you could into it- not like you had much, before you rolled it to sit beside your door. You walked out and headed towards Overhaul’s office. You knocked on the door and entered when you heard a ‘come in’. You walked in and stood in front of his desk. “L/n..what can I do for you?” He leaned his chin on his fist as his elbow sat his his desk, his gold eyes looking as bored as they usually do. 

“I’m sorry for the short notice, but i’m going to have to leave the compound for awhile..” His eyebrows raised as he sat up straight. “..Are you wanting to leave the Hassaikai?” You shook your head, “No, but, I’m going to need some time away...I’m pregnant.” He slowly nodded, “Maternity leave?” You nodded as you kept your gaze towards the floor, “Very well, I’ll give you an assignment further away, one that’ll keep you out of the field.” You nodded, saying a quiet ‘thank you’ as he wrote down the information/permissions you’d need.

 You turned to leave, but before you could he spoke. “...does he know..?” You shook your head, “...no...but..I...I think it’s better if he doesn’t..not yet anyway...” He hummed as he sighed, “Well, if that’s what you think is best, you’re dismissed.” You nodded as you opened the door and left, walking to your room to get your suitcase before you left.

It’s been a year since you last saw Chrono. You had tried to let him go, to forget and leave him in the past. But that was a lot harder than you had originally anticipated. Because you still loved him. You would have thought that after a year of not having seen him after he broke up with you, you’d be able to leave him in the past. But you couldn’t. Cries took you out of your critical thinking. You shook yourself out of it before walking over to your little boy, Hayato. He was only 3 months, so he was still little...and quite the crier..But no matter how many sleepless nights or mini breakdowns you might have trying to get him to sleep, your entire heart belonged to your son, your little Hayato. 

You came in and softly spoke to your crying baby, softly picking him up and holding him by his bottom, softly cradling his head where it laid on your shoulder. You slowly swayed side to side as you held him, softly humming as you did this. His cries subsided, soft little *cute* hiccups escaping his small body as you rubbed his back. Sometimes nothing was wrong, he just needed to be held, comforted...you knew the feeling. You cuddled him for a little longer before you felt him calm down, and seeing as it was 10 past midnight, you set him down in his crib, making sure his stuffed elephant was close by. 

Giving his forehead one last kiss you walked out of his room, cracking the door and going to the kitchen to finish making the tea you were going to drink. Blowing on the hot cup you sat down on the couch, turning so you could look out the tall windows that were almost floor to ceiling. You only had a few lights on so the view of the city at night was clear. You sighed as you brought the tea cup to your mouth, taking a slow sip while your feet came up onto the couch with you. You sat there in the silence, the buzzing of various electronics in the background and the occasional sound of your sips the only noise filling the room. You smiled as you took a peak at the baby monitor you kept on the small end table, your little baby snuggling the small animal your boss, a good friend of Pops, gifted your son when he was born.

 All things considered, you were doing quite well for yourself. You had a high paying job as an assistant for a, despite being a hassaikai leader, kind boss who gave you a few months off to care for your child. You were able to live off compound in a good school district in a nice safe area. You were set on giving your baby the best life you could, the life you never got to have. *Knock knock* You slowly set the cup down on the table, moving the baby monitor into a drawer (you always made sure to hide it when ever business partners or anyone work related came, your sons safety was your utmost priority). You walked to the door and took a look through the peep hole, when you did your heart sped up, heart sinking to your gut. Because the man on the other side of the door was someone you didn’t expect to see for a long, long time.

**2 hours ago in the Shie Hassaikai base**

Chrono groaned as he sat down in the couch in Overhaul’s office, mask sitting beside him on the couch as he leaned his head back to rest against the back of the couch. “You look dead.” Chrono scoffed as his hand came to rub at his eyes. “Gee thanks, I really needed to hear that. I almost forgot my life sucked- thanks for the reminder.” Overhaul shrugged, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. “...When was the last time you saw her?” 

Chrono sighed, “....when she left the hassaikai...I haven’t heard from her since..I screwed up bad.” Overhaul now sighed as he reopened his eyes, turning his gaze to Chrono. “I’d say...” Chrono shot a glare towards his friend, Overhaul simply shrugging. “....she asked me not to tell you, but seeing as you’re miserable and I know you, i’m going to tell you anyways...” Chrono raised an eyebrow as Overhaul stood from his desk, leaning down to write something on a small piece of paper. He walked over to the couch, tossing the paper onto the couch beside his friend. 

Chrono picked it up, eyes narrowing as it listed an apartment complex and a suite number. “..The heck is this?” Overhaul walked back to his desk and sat down. “Her address....I’d prepare myself if I were you, she’s not the only one you left behind.” Chrono narrowed his eyes at the man, “What do you-” “Tell me Kurono, why did you think she suddenly left, to do office work nonetheless, right after you broke up with her?” Chrono looked down, “I’m not sure....I figured she was mad, upset..figured she just didn’t want to see me anymore.” Overhaul hummed, “Well, that’s partly true, but no. She left because she wasn’t the only one she had to look after anymore.”

 Chrono looked towards Overhaul, “...what are you saying?” Overhaul frowned (yes he’s still wearing a mask cHill) “..I’m saying there’s someone else in the picture now, your picture.” Like a flip being switched his eyes shot open. “...I got her pregnant..” “Bingo.” “...and I broke up with her..” “Yup.” “..I have a son i’ve never met..” “Or daughter.” Chrono glared at Overhaul, who was finding the situation unnervingly amusing. “We can keep bantering back and forth or you can go, I don’t care either way, but I do have work to do.” 

Shakily sighing Chrono stood, walking to the door. Turning around he looked to his old friend, “...thank you.” Overhaul waved him off with a sigh, “Thank me when you finally get your life back together.” Grinning Chrono walked out of the office, paper in hand and heart filled with determination. He was going to make this right.

**Back to present time**

Undoing the chain and bolt you unlocked the door. “...Hari..?” Everything he had prepared to say flew out the window when he saw you. You looked different..not in a bad way, but he could tell you had matured. You had your hair pulled back and held loosely by a clip, you were wearing a loose t-shirt and some leggings. “..Y/n..” You both stared at each other, neither one believing that the other was actually there. Snapping yourself out of your daze you spoke, “Uhm, what are you doing here? Not that it’s not great to see you! I just- I didn’t expect you to be...here..” 

He nodded, hands going into his pockets to hide how shaky they had become. “..I....I needed to talk to you...I need make things right.” You looked at him with a nervous expression, arms coming to cross in front of your chest, not in anger or frustration but to try to ground yourself. “I love you Y/n, and I don’t know what was going through my head when I broke up with you, but please believe me when I tell you it was the stupidest thing i’ve ever done. I never stopped loving you either, when I ended things it was because I thought it was the best thing to do at the time, I thought you deserved better...I didn’t think I could give you better...I’m so sorry. I was selfish and I hurt you and i’m so sorry.”

 You started to tear up, one of your hands coming up to wipe the tears that escaped. Shaking your head you gave him a small smile. “I never hated you...I don’t think I can. And I definitely never stopped loving you...This past year has been harder than you know, well, you might, you don’t look too good.” Chrono just chuckled as he shook his head, you lightly laughing. “..Just promise you won’t do that again..? I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want to do this alone anymore either.” He looked confused for a second. “Wait here...there’s someone who wants to meet you.” 

His heart sped up as you walked back to your sons room, him walking into the small entryway and shutting/locking the door behind him. He wring his hands together, heart rate speeding up and his mind racing. He took a shaky breath in as you walked out of the room, but it caught in his throat when his dark eyes met identical ones. His gulped as he looked up to see you, silently asking for permission. Smiling you walked over to him, gently holding you- well, the two of you’s son out to him. He very carefully brought his son into his arms, holding him with his left as his right softly traced over his small features.

 He almost broke when his son latched onto his finger, he smiled towards his son, shoulders shaking as he held back tears. “His name is Hayato.” He looked to you and smiled, before looking back down to his little baby. “Hi Hayato...it’s nice to meet you...sorry i’m a little late...daddy was busy being an idiot.” He playfully glared when you said ‘Yeah he was’ before softening his look when he returned his gaze to Hayato. “But i’m here now...and I’m never going away again..I promise you that.” He looked up to you, meeting your glassy e/c eyes with his own gray ones. “Both of you.”

 After a good hour of holding his son you both put him to bed. Slowly cracking his door closed once again, you both moved to sit in the family room. But before he could sit you softly grabbed his arm. He turned around, stumbling when you threw yourself towards him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close to him as he possibly could, head nuzzling into your shoulder. “...I was really scared you’d never come back...when you left, I knew I screwed up big time, but I thought you needed your space...but shoot, if I had known you were pregnant-” You shook your head, pulling away to look him in the eyes, hands coming to rest on his chest while his remained on your waist.

 “No, that parts my fault, and don’t even refute it...I didn’t tell you because I thought it would hold you back...that I would hold you back..and I didn’t want to keep you in a relationship you wouldn’t be happy in...but he’s your son, I should have told you.” He leaned down to rest his forehead back on your shoulder. He sighed as he chuckled, “We both made some pretty dumb choices, let’s leave it at that.” You laughed, cradling his head and running your fingers, carefully, through his hair.

 You were just enjoying the moment when  he started to softly kiss your shoulder, before he stood to his normal height and kissed your lips. His hands moved down to your hips, yours around his neck when you pulled away. “Uh uh, I know where this is going- I just had a kid 3 months ago, the last thing I need is another one!” Shrugging he leaned down to kiss your cheek, you almost gave in to the moment, caught up in the sheer romance of the gesture before he leaned closer to your ear, “The more the merrier~” Him laughing when you squealed as he picked you up and slung you over his shoulder.

You started to slap his back in protest before he ‘gently’ set you down on your bed, him climbing to the side of you to pull you in close, holding you like at any moment he’d wake up, this having all been a cruel dream. But when you wrapped your arms around him and burrowed into his chest he knew, he wasn’t too late. And as he drifted off to sleep that night, with you finally back in his arms, he couldn’t help but think that maybe it was luck, or even fate, but whatever it was that brought you back together, Chrono knew he would always find his way back to you.

“If the world was ending You'd come over, right?”

[descendantofthesparrow]

Multipart Commission work - Harry Hook x reader - A Prince Behind the Pirate - part 12 - letters and conspiracies

@musicarose​

=

“more and more people are rallying for the children of the isle to join us in Auradon” the council was meeting secretly, talking about the recent events of the people of Auradon calling for the children of the isle to be removed and relocated to Auradon“all thanks to your granddaughter Leah”

The ex-queen crossed her arms, glaring at her fellow council members. “it is not my fault that my granddaughters….soulmate” she spat “is a filthy isle pirate boy, trust me, I have plans to get him out of her head, the first being an arranged marriage between Ariels son and (y/n)”

“now how are you going to do that?” Luis scoffed, twirling his white mustache between his fingers “while it's not common knowledge that the pirate and your granddaughter are soulmates if it gets out the whole kingdom would riot for her, you know the consequences of forcefully pulling two souls apart”

Leah waved the old king off, he was a sucker for love and allowed his son to marry a peasant dish maid, he would be no use in the planning of all this. “yes yes whatever, I cannot have a filthy pirate soil my family line, (y/n) needs a prince, one with land and claim to his throne. Jordan will be just fine, with the claim to Atlantica”

The council nodded along with her standing as the “meeting” was dismissed, Luis frowned to himself, he just couldn't condone this behavior…he needed to tell someone.

=

You sighed, leaning back in your desk chair, blowing your hair out of your eyes. Another stressful day of dealing with Isle affairs, from the food barges to the assholes on the council denying yet ANOTHER transfer request of another 4 VKs.

It had been a long battle but after your stories, along with the cour four and Ben backing you up and their own stories, the people of Auradon were rallying for the removal of the vks from the Isle.

Cinderella herself was voting for the removal of the vks, along with her step-sister Anastasia. Which lead to more people to come on your side, if someone who was raised by a villain was rallying for the vks how bad could they be?

If only your grandmother wasn’t such a bitch and convincing the other council members to keep denying the VK transfer plan. You rolled your neck and got back to business, finishing up another document on the medical barge that was being sent to the isle soon.

A few minutes later a knock sounded at your door, and you turned to look at it for a moment before going back to your work “it's open!”

Audrey stepped through a moment later, a bowl of fruit in her hands “snack break!” you sighed and looked at her, smiling.

“but-“ she tossed a grape at you, pouting.

“no buts, now eat the snackies” you laughed and held your hand out for the bowl, she gave it and a fork to you, spinning around and landing on your bed “sooooo, hows work?”

“pretty good” you shrugged, a mouthful of watermelon “just finishing on a medical document before working on the next barge for fabric”

Audrey hummed and nodded to herself, picking up the tossed leather jacket on your bed, thumbing over the stitched silver hook. “any progress on Harry?”

“no” you groaned, letting your head fall “the council STILL won't approve the plan” Audrey pursed her lips, sucking on her teeth.

“….im really glad I've grown away from grammie, I used to think she knew everything but….shes just-“

“close-minded and thinks about what's best for her and HER line instead of what's best for us and what WE want?” Audrey pointed at you and nodded.

“exactly, shes so demanding and-and god, I wish mom and dad had more of an opportunity to raise us, I never realized that I hardly had a relationship with mom until I actually tried to hang out with her instead of grammie”

You shook your head, it had been hard for Audrey and mom to get their “proper” relationship going, even months later their relationship was slightly strained.

Thankfully for you, you had….not trusted your grandmother since you were a kid and she had grimaced and called a same-sex couple walking down the street “rule-breaking f*gs”…yeah you decided she wasn’t a good role model and mentally disowned her.

When you had told Audrey about it, right around the times she separated herself from Grammie, she had a look of horror on her face, being apart of the LGBTQ community herself, she took it to heart.

To sum it up,  you and Audrey had basically disowned your grandmother and decided you deserved better than a homophobic, controlling bitch of a grandmother.

She still tried to control the two of you but 1) since you met Harry and decided that hey, your soulmates a pirate, let's just go crazy and 2) Audrey was done with her bullcrap.

Your dad had almost died from laughing as you both hid from your grandma one day while she visited. But managed to hide it from her as she asked about you, while your grandpa found you and snuck you some food

Your grandfather was always your favorite out of the two grandparents,  he never pressured you, never forced his beliefs on you, and just let you be yourselves….and also took you to get junk food.

Big difference from your grandmother, but anyway- back to the main plot.

You swallowed the last bit of fruit and placed it on your desk, going back to working on the medical document.

“shoot I gotta get going, Jane wanted to go get brunch at Tiana's place, see you later!” Audrey jumped up from the bed, ran over to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before she bolted from your room to find jane. “have fun” you muttered distracted, typing out your last paragraph, and hitting the save button, opening up the fabric document next.

Time for another three hours at your desk, just the life of the isle ambassador.

=

Harry grunted as he set a large barrel full of fish on the ships main deck, groaning as he stood and stretched out his aching muscles. He shook his head, feeling beads of sweat dripping from his scalp and down his forehead. “gods” he muttered “the one day I do work and its gotta be so hot” he slicked back his sweat-soaked hair and turned around, heading back to the barge to collect more food for the crew.

As he walked down the gangplank, his oh so precious little sister CJ came trotting towards him, a white envelope in her hand, waving it about in the air “oh Harry~ a letter from your girlfirend~” she called, skipping over to him and holding out the letter.

Harry tried to grab it but CJ twisted and pulled away the letter, sticking her tongue out playfully “you have to be quick-hey!” Harry picked CJ up and plucked the letter from her hand, dropping her back on her feet, snickering as she hit his shoulder.

“and yeh hav’ ta be quicker than tha’” Harry mocked, ripping open the envelope and taking out the letter, grunting as CJ jumped onto him and climbed to look over his shoulder “yeh rotten little monkey” he muttered, opening the letter and grinning slightly as (y/n)s neat handwriting appeared

-hi Harry~ just wanted to write a quick letter to you. The next barges are medical and fabric and should be at the isle within the week, I need Uma to write up any needs on the blank paper I put along with this letter and give it back to the courier that will be retrieving the returns in three days.

I miss you every day and even though we see each other in our dreams, I still wish I could see you.

-until next time, love- (y/n)

Harry sighed, smiling softly at the letter, thumbing over (y/n)s signature. “gag” CJ stuck her tongue out and walked away “im gonna go hang out with someone who isn’t being a love guppy” Harry rolled his eyes and closed the letter, shoving it in his pocket and taking the envelope and blank paper to Uma

=

You sighed, finally finishing the last document and sending it to the manager of isle affairs. You spun around in your chair and stood, walking to your bed and flopping down onto the mattress.

“uhhhg” you groaned, grabbing your jacket and pulling it over your head, ready to sleep for 10 hours after your grueling day of filling out paperwork.

Your phone sounded off, and you groaned loudly and sat up, your jacket falling to your lap, leaning over you grabbed your phone from the charger, clicking on the message bubble.

…

….

….

“WHAT!???!”

-end of part 12-

we are all disappointed at the wedding “short” so heres a x reader for your trouble

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taglist that i forgot to do when originally posted to here!

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[hotpinkhoshi]

the pact drabble | the study date

You stretched your arms above your head, cringing at the series of cracks that followed down your spine. You missed the way Jinyoung’s eyes shot down to the few inches of your stomach that were exposed when your sweater rode up.

It was your fifth hour of cramming for your European Lit final exam, and you were completely over it. Your limbs ached, your eyes were dry from the reading, and you still barely knew the difference between Chaucer and Cervantes.

Jinyoung stared back down at his notes, tapping his highlighter against the paper. You knew he didn’t need to be here, in the library with you—he could probably teach the class by this point. But for some reason he was still here, even though the clock was nearing midnight.

“Don’t you have an early exam tomorrow? You should get some sleep,” you remarked, relaxing your arms back by your sides.

He shrugged, glancing up at you. “It’s just my calc class, nothing serious. I already have a 95 average.”

Oh, to be Park Jinyoung. You had yet to find one subject he didn’t excel at, and you’d known him for more than six years. It wasn’t like he spent all his time in the library rehashing his notes or memorizing paragraphs. He was just that guy, the one who paid attention in class and it was enough. If he weren’t one of your closest friends, you’d hate him out of pure jealousy.

“Ugh. You’re so annoying.”

Jinyoung smirked back at you, reaching his hand into his ziploc of chocolate candies. He tossed one in your direction, smacking you right between the eyeballs.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. It didn’t hurt, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t guilt him anyway.

“Ooh, my bad. I thought you were being rude because you were hangry, so I thought chocolate would help.”

“You’re the worst,” you said, reaching across the table to swipe the entire bag of candies. “But you know, I am rather hungry, so I’ll take these.”

Jinyoung looked at you like you’d just stolen his most prized possession, lips nearly forming a pout as he shook his head at you. “That’s low. Stealing a man’s chocolate.”

You smiled, relaxing against the wooden library chair. You popped a handful of candies into your mouth, chewing slowly as you stared him in the eye. “Delicious.”

“You little-” he started, a smile pulling at his lips before it was almost instantly erased. His eyes flicked above your head. “Hey, hyung.”

You turned in your chair and almost choked, seeing Jaebeom strutting towards your table with his hands in his pockets. Quickly, you swallowed the chocolate in your mouth and wiped at the corners of your lips.

Jaebeom had a new ear piercing you hadn’t seen before, a silver chain dangling from his lobe. It complimented him so well, you felt your heartbeat quicken. It was like he looked more handsome each time you saw him.

“Hi, Jaebeom.” You straightened up, painting a smile on your face. “What are you doing here?”

Jaebeom ran his fingers through his hair, flashing you his million dollar smile. “Hey. Just finished up a group project. I heard Y/N from all the way around the corner and thought I’d come see if you needed someone to walk you back to your dorm. It’s late, after all.”

Your eyes lit up. “Um, actually, that would be great. We were just-“

“I was planning on walking you home. My building isn’t far...” Jinyoung cut in from behind you. You’d almost forgotten he was there.

“No, really, it’s okay. You should get home and get some sleep,” you told him, twisting around to face him and widening your eyes, praying he’d get the hint to allow you this precious alone time with Jaebeom.

Jinyoung pursed his lips together, eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he sat back in his chair. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I’m pretty tired.”

You instantly relaxed, turning back to Jaebeom with a grin. “Just let me get my things, and I’ll be ready to go.”

Jinyoung watched with a sour look as you gathered your notebooks and textbooks, shoving them haphazardly into your backpack. There was some sort of unspoken tension between the two boys, something you’d noticed recently. They had been the best of friends in school, and they claimed to still be close now, but something was... off.

They didn’t hang out like they used to. Jaebeom had new friends, Mark and Youngjae, that he’d met in his first year at college. You’d only crossed paths with them a few times, but they seemed like decent guys. Jinyoung spent most of his time with Jackson, his freshman year roommate, and only mentioned Jaebeom once in a blue moon.

Still, you mouthed ‘thank you’ just before you turned around, hoisting your backpack on one shoulder. Jaebeom smiled down at you and butterflies fluttered low in your stomach the whole way home.

Jinyoung turned in his chair enough to catch you through the window as you laughed at something Jaebeom said, his heart sinking low in his chest.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, chewing onto his lip as he searched through his phone for a particular contact.

Jinyoung: Hey, Yeri. It’s Jinyoung from Creative Writing last semester. Wondering if you were free to grab a drink this weekend?

[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Legend of Jade from Jacksonville

A/N: So this came from an ask meme I posted a few days ago. One of the items on the list was “write a few paragraphs about...” and then the prompter was supposed to send a character, situation and an object. Like always, I got carried away and wrote way more than a few paragraphs, so I decided to post it separately from the other two requests (which I am trying to play by the rules for.) Anyway, this turned into one of my favorite Ryan HCs, so THANK YOU @suchatinyinfinity​  for requesting this!  

Request: Ryan Brenner -- at a gas station -- $2 bill 

Word Count: 1,077

Ryan hopped down from the bed of the dark green pickup, brushing the salt dust and dried mud that stained the vehicle’s side panels from his hands after lifting the tailgate back up. Finally off of wind whipped I-25, he realized that it was roughly ten degrees warmer where they were than it was when they left the city. She was right, ‘course she was. He unzipped his sweatshirt, shedding it and tugging down the tee underneath, one he’d picked up recently when a mishap at a laundromat in Iowa left him down a handful of shirts. He smiled at the white letters reading Le Claire against a navy background. It was one you’d chosen from a souvenir shop set up right beside the riverboat museum, the Mississippi wide and full just behind it. 

Purchasing souvenirs from his travels wasn’t something that Ryan did often. I’m not on vacation, this isn’t… He’d send postcards, but that was more to stay connected to people than it was to talk about what he’d done in Albuquerque or what the weather in Shreveport was like. But a shirt from a tiny gift shop outside of a museum he did not set foot inside of somehow held enough meaning to remind him of the slight bite in the air that day on the river as you tossed him the garment with a wink, teasing him about being more careful with this one in the wash. Don’t worry, I will be.

The sound of Georgie’s voice thanking the couple who’d given them a ride made him blink and look back up. They’d offered to take the two of them all the way down to Pueblo after they got to talking following Ryan and Georgie’s set at Jake’s. But we got… I got plans in the Springs. “Thanks again Fern,” he nodded at the woman, shaking her hand as her bangles jingled around her wrist. Turning to her husband, he shook his hand as well. “Drew, I really ‘ppreciate it. You two have a safe rest of your trip.” They assured him that they would, and promised to come see them again if they ever caught wind of Ryan and Georgie playing in the area. They’re nice people, glad we met ‘em. He watched the truck pull out of the gas station and back onto the dusty road as he stretched his legs and arched his back. 

“Alright Brenner, I need a coffee, an’ I’m gonna grab a sandwich or somethin’ cause I’m-” Georgie hoisted his bag and case over his shoulder and Ryan did the same as the two of them strode towards the convenience store attached to the Phillips 66 station. “Starvin’ man, I didn’ really eat last night I guess? Just had some beers’n-” But Georgie’s rambling faded as Ryan felt a vibration from his pocket, one hand diving in to retrieve his phone. He couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline that he felt when he read your name. Nothin’s even...we haven’t really even...damn. 

“Hey, Georgie, I gotta,” he held up his phone as it rang again in his palm and Georgie immediately started in on him for being lovesick. No that’s not it, nothin’ like that it’s just- “Just grab me a coffee, wouldya? I’ll watch your stuff.” He rolled his eyes as Georgie agreed, pointing to the sign on the window to remind Ryan that a coffee was $1.19. Shaking his head and wearing a full on grin, he flipped open his phone and answered. “Hey, I was just about to text you...yeah, we just got to Colorado Springs, we’re close to the park, you there yet?” 

“Hey yourself Ryan.” He took his hat off, squeezing the brim as you spoke his name before settling it back down over his hair. “Yeah, I just got off the bus and I’m in the welcome center.” He could hear the soft murmur of a semi-crowded space behind you. Can’t wait to see her. It had only been three days since you’d left Denver early with your friend Missy and he’d stayed behind to play a few days longer with Georgie and Max. But still. “Can’t wait til you guys get here.” 

“Yeah Junebug...I can’t wait either.” He ended the call, letting you know that they’d be there in about fifteen minutes, then dug out his wallet. Georgie wants his $1.19? He’s gonna get it. With interest. Fingers nimbly sifting through the few items tucked between his ID and the new card he’d gotten from Caribou Coffee, he found the $2 bill that had been in there for several years. I coulda given him this in Utah after...but I didn’t… 

It was a bill he’d carried with him that Georgie had asked him for repeatedly since the last time the two men were down in Jacksonville and a stunning young woman named Jade had written her number on it and thrown it into their tip jar with a wink. They decided to split the tips blind, and it had ended up in Ryan’s pile. Though he hadn’t used it that night, he vowed to hold on to it until the next time he was in the city, maybe give her a call then and see what happened. He and Georgie had brought up Jade from Jacksonville more than a few times in drunken conversation, the story about the woman behind the phone number on a wrinkled old bill becoming more intriguing to Ryan than what he could remember about the real Jade. He did enjoy how badly his friend wanted the number though. He’s about to get his wish. I don’t think I’m gonna be callin’ Jade. 

Georgie came out carrying two coffees in one hand, a half wrapped sandwich in the other. “Got your money right here George,” Ryan told him, trading the $2 bill for one of the coffees in his hand.   

Ryan took a sip of his drink, whiskered lips smiling as he watched Georgie’s eyes double in size. He finished chewing the large bite of his sandwich, swallowing quickly. “Jade from Jacksonville?” Ryan nodded as the other man grinned. “You ain’t been back to Jacksonville though, Ryan. Thought you were holdin’ out ‘til you-“

Ryan laughed and took another sip of his coffee as Georgie folded the legendary Jade’s number and stuck it in his back pocket. That’s what I thought, too but… “I dunno Georgie,” he shrugged. “Things change.”

.

.

.

Thanks for reading!! If you would like on or off of this train (pun entirely intended) please feel free to let me know! And if I left you on or off and you’ve asked me to change that...please ask again because I am highly disorganized on this blog. 

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @malionnes @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices @suchatinyinfinity @songtoyou @with1love1anu @dearmarii @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @luminex3​ @obscurilicious​ @pheedraws​ @beautifuldesastre​

[noorakardemmomesaetre]

Through the Snowfall - Chapter Three 

Or Read It On Ao3

Pairing: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: The Coopers and Andrews have rented the same cabin in the woods every holiday season since their kids were two years old.

And with Archie and Betty leaving for college in just a few months, Betty is determined to make this Christmas a memorable one…by telling Archie how she really feels.

What she doesn’t plan for is Archie bringing his best friend.

Or the way her gaze is suddenly lingering on the wild dark curls peeking out from beneath a crown beanie rather than the ginger spikes she’d set her sights on so long ago.

Chapter Three: Dusk

Betty is sipping the pumpkin spice latte she'd taught herself how to make last Christmas when Jughead makes his way into the kitchen. He's in sweats and a black hoodie and something about seeing him in such casual attire has a warmth pooling in the pit of Betty's stomach that she refuses to acknowledge.

He smiles at her, one of his more reserved smiles, as he reaches for the coffee pot, a soft and teasing, "goodnight Betty," leaving his lips.

It's an inside joke. Their inside joke now and Betty smiles at him over the rim of her coffee mug, murmuring a goodnight to him as well.

He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth thoughtfully as he pulls down one of the mugs and Betty's gaze falls to the strip of skin his lifted sweatshirt has revealed, olive and toned and-

Veronica clears her throat behind Jughead, raising an eyebrow at the two of them before pressing her lips together in an amused smile. "Something particularly interesting about the coffee this morning, Betty?"

Betty chokes on the sip of latte she'd just taken, blaming the heat and avoiding eye contact with either of them as she quickly moves out of the kitchen to snuggle up on the couch.

She's just gotten over the sheer embarrassment and into the chapter of the book she'd been reading on the flight over when Mary and Alice waltz into the room chatting loudly about the Snowflake Soiree. Mary tugs a blanket off the back of the couch and lays it across where Betty is curled up, winking at her when Betty mouths a genuine thank you.

"And I was explaining to Fred that you and I simply must go into town to purchase new gowns for the Soiree! We can't look out of season, Mar."

"And I'm sure Fred was completely understanding," Mary responds and her and Alice share a look before giggling.

"Betty, dear, do you know what you're wearing to the Soiree?" Mary asks, sipping from her environmentally friendly reusable water bottle.

Betty nods, closing her book with her finger marked on the page so she can tell Mary about the gown she’d chosen, but her mother takes her pause as an invitation to answer.

"Oh, Betty got her dress ages ago," Alice speaks for her with a bright smile before her eyebrows furrow and she turns her attention to her daughter. "Have you tried it on recently, Elizabeth? I'm not sure it will still fit what with cheer season ending and the way you've been eating."

"Alice," Mary chides, shooting Betty an apologetic look. Betty's cheeks are hot and she's currently praying for the patience not to scream. Could her mother be any more of a-

“Honesty really is always the best policy. Isn’t that right, Elizabeth?”

Betty fingers curl into fists threatening to break the scarred skin of her palms once more when she notices Mary’s eyebrow lift, her sights set on something just behind Betty.

Curiosity gets the better of her and she turns around to see what could have possibly caught her eye. To her surprise, she finds Archie and Veronica walking up the driveway from what must've been a morning stroll through the village together. Veronica is smiling, her hands wrapped around a thermos, and Archie is pointing to different areas around the cabin.

Probably telling her stories from when they were young.

But what surprises Betty the most is that it doesn't hurt to see them together as much as she'd thought it would.

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

With only a few days left until Christmas, Betty knows it's now or never to do one of her least favorite tasks: wrapping gifts.

Scissors. Double-sided tape. Wrapping paper. Boxes. Holiday-themed bows.

Everything is laid out exactly how she wants it to be and she's already sent Veronica with Hal and Fred down to the lodge where the town will be hosting the Snowflake Soiree in order to keep her from popping into the bedroom and spoiling her gift before it's wrapped - something Veronica has become suspiciously good at since her and Betty had become close friends.

After an hour, there's a few loud bangs on the door that send Betty's palm to her pounding heart as she tries to regain her composure.

The door swings open revealing a grinning Archie and Betty considers throwing a pillow at his face.  

"Seriously, Archie, did you have to pound on the door like that?" she says with a sigh, feeling relieved that she had already wrapped the small frame with a picture of the two of them in their baby Christmas sweaters together.

He laughs and walks over to her bed, falling on his back. He's holding a baseball and he tosses it casually in the air again and again while she sets up the wrapping for the next gift.

She'd missed this. Just the two of them hanging out without so much self-inflicted pressure. She’s been so caught up in her feelings for him, perhaps she’s neglected their friendship this holiday season, she thinks.

"What'd you get me, Betty?"

"I never fall for that."

She catches his eye and they laugh, the falling baseball almost smacking him in the face.

"Remember that one year you gave me a macaroni noodle drawing of me that you made in your art class?"

She winces as she remembers the hideous arts and crafts picture and how he had stared at it for five minutes before asking his dad how he was supposed to eat it.

"That wasn't even half as bad as the year you got me a football with your own autograph on it."

"Hey, peewee football was the start of my career! That's going to be worth something someday."

They both laugh and Betty shakes her head because her friend couldn't possibly be more ridiculous. He stops tossing the ball and turns to look at her and she holds his gaze for a second before turning back to her almost-finished task.

She knows this is the moment.

The moment where she's supposed to tell him how she truly feels about him. About them.

But her heart isn't pounding and the tips of her ears aren't burning and this time alone with him doesn't feel any different than any other moment with him has before.

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

It's 1:00 in the morning and once again Betty is left staring at her ceiling while Veronica sleeps peacefully in her bed. Betty had wanted to ask her what she thinks of Archie several times that night, but Veronica had avoided the subject continuously like it was the plague and Betty has a pretty good idea what she thinks of him anyways.  

She sighs, tapping her fingers against her stomach for a few seconds before the thought of sneaking downstairs and heating up a pumpkin spice pancake to eat in spite of her mother's cruel words from earlier sounds too tempting to pass up.

Slipping into her robe and slippers, she pads her way to the stairs, only stopping when she notices the hazy glow of the fireplace still being lit.

She wonders why her father or Fred didn't put out the fire before bed as she leans over the railing, but decides if they aren’t worrying about it, neither should she.

She heads into the kitchen, turning the corner and-

“Shit!”

“Fuck!”

Jughead immediately turns around, his hand mirroring Betty’s as it presses against his racing heart. They both stand there for a moment taking each other in before breaking into soft laughter.

“Sorry, Betts, did I wake you?” he asks quietly as she walks over to where he’s adding mini-marshmallows to a mug of her mother’s hot chocolate. He motions to an empty mug near the sink and she nods, deciding hot chocolate may be a better investment this late at night.

Or a better excuse to spend time with him, but she won’t begin to unpack why she’d want to do that.

“No, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me either,” he says as he pours her a mug, adding a small spoonful of the marshmallows. She takes it from him, ignoring the tingling in the tips of her fingers as they brush his. Only the glow from the digital clock on the counter casts light between them and she feels herself looking down at her mug and smiling when she catches him staring at her.

“So, um...” he clears his throat and she lifts her gaze to meet his, the ends of her ponytail brushing against the soft cotton of her robe. “If you’re planning to stay up a little longer, I could use a pair of Ivy League eyes on something I’m writing.”

“I’m not Ivy League yet.”

“But you will be.” And the absolute certainness in his tone makes her heart dip in a way that pinkens her cheeks.

“I’d love to read what you’re writing, Jug,” she finally says and he smiles sheepishly as he runs his fingers through his hair and then motions for her to follow him with the same hand. He’s beanieless and she fights the urge to card her own fingers through his hair, to feel how soft the strands must be.

As soon as they sit down across from each other on the fancy decorative rug that came with the cabin (though Betty’s sure her mother was the one to purchase it many winters ago), he picks up his laptop and sets it on his lap as though to give her a preface before allowing her to read what he’s written.

“I’ve been working on a novel-” her eyebrows raise in an impressed way that he immediately waves off “-not like a great novel, it’s probably mediocre at best, but I’d love for you to read this paragraph and help me figure out what I’m trying to say.”

She sets the mug down and smiles assuredly at him before she takes the laptop and dives into the paragraph he’s pointed out to her. After a few seconds, she finds herself wishing she’d started from the beginning of his novel. The paragraph alone is beautifully written with sound sentence structure and a true grasp of his voice she wishes she had on her own.

“This is really good, Jug, like really.”

His hand falls to the back of his neck as he shrugs and it’s only then she notices that they’re both sitting cross-legged and their knees are touching. He doesn’t say anything or jerk his knee away though so she pretends not to have noticed and continues.

“And the word I think you’re looking for is ‘kismet.’”

She feels her heartbeat quicken when she looks up to find him watching her with such an intensity she’s not sure if she feels warm from the heat of the fire blazing beside them, or from being this close to him.

“That’s exactly the word I was looking for,” he murmurs, reaching out to take his laptop back. “'Fate or destiny.' Kind of crazy how that happens sometimes. You meet someone and it’s just...kismet.”

“Is that what happened with you and your girlfriend?” The words tumble out of her mouth without her meaning them to and she silently wishes the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

“I know this may come as a surprise to you, Cooper, what with my charming good looks and enviable intellect,” he says after chuckling at her question, his voice dripping with sarcasm before he continues, “but I have no girlfriend.”

“That does surprise me.” He lifts his gaze to meet hers once more and she finds that what’s actually surprising her is how honest she’s being about what she thinks of him. But there’s something about being alone with him that draws that from her and she wishes she knew why that is.

Or why hearing he has no girlfriend makes her tug her bottom lip between her teeth.

“So, now you know my big dark secret about writing a 'novel,'” he says with a grin, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. He’s only countable inches from her now and she can see the barely noticeable few freckles speckled across his face and she finds that she wants to brush her fingers gently against each one.

Which throws her enough to completely miss what he’s said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He laughs and slowly runs his tongue against his bottom lip before he softly repeats himself, “I asked what you do for fun?”

“Oh!” she shakes her head and giggles before setting her mug down. Normally she wouldn’t tell just anyone this, but she has a feeling Jughead isn’t the kind of guy to make a snide comment or tease her about it. He hasn’t about her college secret yet anyways. “I really enjoy working on cars with my dad.”

“Really?” It’s his turn to be impressed.

“Yeah,” she continues, looking down at her slippered feet to tug at a loose thread absentmindedly as she speaks. “My dad and I used to work on them together when I was little out in the garage. He’s more into working with my mom on the newspaper now, so lately I've been working on them by myself, but I find it to be really relaxing and quite satisfying when they start working again, you know?”

His smile is so genuine and he looks so incredibly handsome in the warmth of the fire burning behind him and -”God, I think you might be made for me.”

He closes his eyes as soon as the words leave his mouth and her breath catches.

“I mean, because- not like, I mean- my dad owns a garage back home and I-” he’s stumbling over his words and all she finds herself wanting to do is press her lips against his soft, pouted ones.

The tips of her ears are burning and time seems to stop as her heart beats millions of miles a second and just as she's leaning in-

“Jug? Betty? Why the hell are you two still up?”

The sound of Archie’s groggy voice interrupts the moment like a shotgun firing and Betty jerks away from Jughead, standing up quickly as her other best friend makes his way downstairs.

Something unfamiliar tugs on her heart and she almost misses the look in Jughead’s eyes as he glances between her and Archie, the slightest hint of a frown tugging on the corners of his mouth.

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

I hope you're all enjoying this holiday season! ☃️ hearing your thoughts as the story progresses has been my absolute favorite part of this little bughead holiday journey, so let me know what you think in a comment if you'd like!

[taste-thewaste]

Potential-Madderton fic

Title: Potential Ship: Madderton Word count: ~4800 CW: Fluff, angst, mutual pining, misunderstanding sort of steering the plot lol Summary: Richard and Taron decide to take the next step and go out on their first date...but it’s a disaster. After, they don’t know where they stand with each other. A/N: This fic is a labor of love lol. Someone prompted me from a list of winter prompts that I reblogged forever ago, “our first date goes horribly so i don’t know why i say yes to a second date, and now, we’re stuck at the diner until the snow slows down and i'm having fun” and I’ve been working on this for a long time. This is the longest fic that I think I’ve written! It’s full of fluff and angst and gratuitous writing, so beware lol. Thank you for reading :)

--------

They’re sharing a pint in a tiny pub, and Taron’s just been stopped by the third person timidly asking for his photo. His eyes light up as he enthusiastically smiles for a selfie, his arm wrapped tight around the girl who owns the phone he’s staring into, and then he gives her a quick hug as she jets off back to her group of friends. Richard’s no stranger to being recognized-it’s happened twice to him tonight, as well-and it’s just a hazard of going out. Taron returns to the table and smiles sheepishly at Richard. 

“Sorry, Rich. It’s not always my favorite thing, but I’m still...grateful, you know? These people enjoy seeing me, my work, and just...I can’t believe this is my life sometimes.” Taron casts his eyes down, his cheeks pink from the beer and the heat of the tiny space and from his own brazen vulnerability. Richard just tilts his head, a slow smile spreading on his face. 

“Can I take you out to dinner Friday night?” Richard blurts, and then his own cheeks are pink and matching Taron’s. 

They’ve spent weeks in this place of non-definition, this gray area of relationship, not acknowledging the ways in which things have changed. They spend their evenings together, in pubs, in the cinema, in each other’s living rooms, and things are, functionally, very similar to the way they’ve always been. Except that now Rich’s knee brushes against Taron’s when they sit on the sofa, and neither of them move; Taron’s eyes linger on Richard’s just the slightest beat longer than they used to; once, in a fit of daring fueled by a few beers, Richard had pulled Taron close to him in a tight hug, buried his face in the sweet spot on T’s neck, kissed it just gently. 

No, they haven’t acknowledged these small moments of intimacy, not until now, and Richard has made a firm, calculated leap into reality. 

“Dinner?” Taron asks, softly, and Richard nods. 

“I...like you,” Richard says, his words trailing off into almost a whisper. It is raw, and vulnerable, and he is filled with fear as soon as the words leave his mouth. Taron is silent for a moment, and in those moments are everything Richard’s worried about since he came to the conclusion that he wanted to ask T out. He feels like a bloody teenager, like he’s covered in pimples and misread the signs; in those few silent moments, he rethinks everything he’s been thinking about this man. He pictures Taron recoiling in revulsion, accusing Richard of being mad, storming out of the pub. He thinks of all of the many ways he could have misread these last few weeks. He admits, to himself, that things were not clear in the slightest. 

“I-I mean, if you’d like to get dinner, that is, no pressure. It could be like tonight, just picking up some food, a beer, whatever, it doesn’t have to be anything serious…it doesn’t have to mean anything.” Now he’s stuttering like a teenager, good Christ. 

And then Taron’s hand is on his, gently, but it’s intentional and Richard looks up, allowing his eyes to meet Taron’s, and he’s calm again, because Taron is calm. 

“Yes, I want to get dinner, and I do want it to mean something,” Taron says evenly, and how could he have been nervous? His face breaks out into a relieved smile, and he nods.

“Okay. Sounds good,” Richard says, and the two of them finish their beers, make plans for Friday evening, laugh at everything stupid.

-------

Friday comes around, and for all the confidence that he’d felt when accepting, Taron will never admit to anyone how nervous he is about this dinner with Richard.

He gets dressed hours early, pulling on a pair of slacks that are both comfortable and flattering, clinging to his bum in just the right way. He pairs it with a dress shirt-dark blue, it brings out his eyes-and a jacket. It’s 4:05, and Rich isn’t due to arrive until 7. Taron’s cheeks flush as he realizes just how early he is, just how nervous he is, but it’s true. He doesn’t know why, but his stomach is churning with anxiety, his hands are shaking, and the only thing he’s certain of is that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll vomit all over his expensive shoes. He sits on the couch for a moment, willing his heart to stop pounding. 

“This is bloody ridiculous,” he says to himself, his voice echoing throughout the flat. “It’s Richard.” He has nothing to be nervous about; this is his best mate, his pal, the man with the ocean-blue eyes that he can’t stop thinking about. He’s been dreaming about something like this for ages, since the first time they kissed on Rocketman, and now it’s here and he can’t stop freaking out. 

He stands up from the couch and physically shakes out the nerves, flaps his arms, rolls his neck, attempts to release the tension. “I just have to chill out,” he mutters to himself. 

He kills the next three hours in a variety of ways. He attempts to read three different books, setting each of them down after just a few sentences or paragraphs. He turns on the telly and flips through the channels at lightning speed, not registering anything in front of him, ignoring the blur of the sounds and colors. He shuffles through the music on his phone, changing the songs one after the other. The activity that sticks longest is the game he makes of catching popcorn in his mouth; he tosses them in the air, tilts his head back, careens wildly to let the pieces fall into his mouth. 

By the time Richard arrives to pick him up, Taron is full of popcorn and feels like his eyes are spinning in his head. He’s more nervous than before, somehow, so when the knock comes at the door, he almost pukes. He frantically smoothes down his hair, takes a deep breath and opens the door.

--------

Richard decides to take Taron to the nicest restaurant he can find; he deserves that much, he deserves the world, Richard thinks. He makes a reservation and spends three days choosing what to wear. He bites his nails to the quick and when the day finally comes, he almost talks himself out of going. 

I could tell him I have food poisoning. I could tell him something’s come up and I have to fly home. I could tell him...anything, I could tell him anything because what if this is a terrible idea? 

The only thing that gets him into the car and across to Taron’s flat is reminding himself, calmly, insistently, that this is Taron, after all, his little Duckie, and this will all be fine. It’ll be better than fine, it’ll be brilliant. 

These words simply get him into the car and over to T’s, though. They do little to quell the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach as he drives there, the trembling in his hands as he approaches Taron’s door. Before he knocks, he takes one last big, deep breath, and reminds himself of the fact that he is absolutely certain he’s the only one who’s nervous. He’s sure that Taron is completely calm and ready for this evening. He reminds himself that everything will be just fine, better than fine. It will be wonderful.

He knocks.

-------- 

I don’t know that I’ve ever been nervous about something and had it turn out worse than I was imagining it, Taron thinks as he lays in bed that evening. It is 10:04 P.M. and he is laying in bed alone, the calling card of a date that didn’t go the way either party had hoped. Taron curls up into a ball and pulls the covers over his head, wishing he could stop reliving their evening, but unable to stop. 

It was as though every moment of their relationship up until that point had vanished out the window. Not just the small tender moments over the last few weeks, but their entire friendship. The car ride was silent and awkward, the only sound coming from Richard fiddling with the radio stations. 

Once they got to the restaurant, the awkwardness only swelled. They both behaved as if they were complete strangers who’d met on an app or through a mutual friend, strangely formal and courteous. Richard didn’t tease him about his hair or the bits of popcorn stuck in his teeth; he didn’t joke with Richard about the way he was walking as if there was a pole shoved into an uncomfortable position. They didn’t even talk about Rocketman or any of their shared experiences. They spoke politely and civilly, talked about the weather (cold); perfunctory details about their families (they were both close with their mums); their taste in music (similar). 

Taron was actually grateful when the food arrived, as it gave him something to do other than stare at Richard awkwardly and smile. They both ate quickly, barely glancing at each other throughout the meal.

“Quite good,” Richard remarked once. 

“Indeed,” Taron answered, swallowing thickly and taking a long drink of water. 

After they’d finished eating, the waiter came back and began to describe the dessert specials, until both Taron and Richard interrupted him with a sharp, short, “No!” 

Richard’s face flushed and he offered the waiter a shaky smile. “No, thank you, sir. Just the check, if you don’t mind.” 

Richard had insisted on paying, despite Taron’s repeated attempts to either pay for the whole thing or toss in his own portion, and they left quickly, for a repeat of the painfully silent car ride back to Taron’s flat. 

Once they’d arrived, Richard unbuckled his seat belt and started to open the door, but Taron had stopped him. 

“‘S okay, Rich. Why don’t we say goodnight now?” he’d muttered. Richard had cast his eyes down and nodded. “Thank you for dinner.” 

“Thanks for coming,” Richard had said quietly. “Have a good evening.” Taron had nodded and practically fled from the car, his heart thumping in his chest. 

Now, here he is, in bed alone at an absurdly early hour, and his heart is still thumping, but from something else. They’d tried it, going out, and it hadn’t worked. That isn’t what’s upsetting him, though. Sure he’s sad that their attempts to turn their relationship into something more haven’t worked; he’s been looking forward to more. The excitement of more between he and Rich has kept him going for longer than he cares to admit, and now that he knows it won’t work between them, the letdown is hard. 

But what’s really hard is the crushing feeling that something has changed between them. He’s closer to Richard than he is with almost anyone else. Rich is kind and funny and smart and the idea of losing him in any way, any capacity, as his friend, is devastating. He can’t shake the feeling that that’s what’s happened, though, and it’s too much for him to handle.

Taron burrows deeper underneath the covers and shuts his eyes. 

-------

The next morning, Richard rolls over in bed and squints against the bright sunlight. The first thing he’d done after getting home was fix himself a drink, then another, and another. It’s making the early morning sun a bit harsher than usual, and it’s, blissfully, all he can focus on for a minute. Then the previous evening floods back, and he buries his face in his hands. 

He’d been so stiff, so uptight, so worried that everything was going to go wrong that he’d ruined it all. He’d wanted Taron to like him so badly that he’d been unable to think of any reason why Taron would like him in the first place. He’d been unable to think of a single thing to say that hadn’t already been said, and then their night had ended obscenely early. 

After a shower, choking down a late breakfast and trying not to puke, he decides to fire off a text to Taron. Bugger it, he thinks as he types it out and sends it before he can lose his nerve. 

Hey. Thanks for going with me last night.

It takes twenty minutes for Taron to answer when it normally takes just a minute or two-the man is glued to his phone, always searching for cat videos and recipes-and the fact of that doesn’t escape Richard’s radar. 

No problem.

Richard’s heart sinks at the reply. It is blunt, matter-of-fact, to the point. There’s no banter, no back-and-forth. He takes a deep breath and plunges forward. 

Wanna grab a beer later? 

This time his reply takes two hours to arrive, during which Richard has taken to pacing the floors, worrying, flipping through channels. When it finally comes in, he leaps on his phone and hates himself for being so manic. 

Not today. Maybe next week.

There is no question mark at the of his sentence, he is not asking Rich if he’s free next week. He is making an excuse, deflecting from the question Rich had asked him. Rich quietly clicks his phone off and slides it onto the coffee table. His heart sinks, and tears well up in his eyes, unbidden. He sits on the couch, the low evening light just starting to filter in through the windows. 

Well, he thinks, at least I know where we stand now. He has taken the best friendship he’s ever had and ruined it in one evening, or so it seems. He knows he should leave Taron alone now. Their date had gone disastrously bad, the kind of bad that you write a shitty movie about, and he knows he should just let it be and see what happens naturally. 

This, of course, is something Richard simply can’t do. 

He spends the evening wallowing, watching bad TV and going to bed early. When he wakes the next day, he turns his phone back on, hopefully, and waits to see if Taron has sent him any messages. Maybe he’d misinterpreted the text last night, maybe Taron had just been in a bad mood or tired. Maybe, he thought hopefully, maybe he’d even misinterpreted how bad the entire date had gone! 

He waits a moment for his phone to catch up, but there are no notifications from Taron. One from his mom, another from his sister, and one from Jamie, but none from the person he really wants to talk to. His heart sinks, and he slides the phone back onto his nightstand, forgets about it for the rest of the day. 

-----------

When Richard texts him the day after their disastrous date, Taron sits with it for a while, lets it roll around in his head like a marble. His first instinct is to fire something back to Rich immediately, a gushing text about how he’s sorry it was so awkward and he wants to try again and no matter what he will always want Rich as a friend. 

But he stops himself. He tells himself he will wait, at least a little bit. 

During those twenty minutes, Taron’s mind whirls at a million miles a minute, and by the time he finally decides to text back, he’s convinced himself that Rich had only reached out to be polite. It would be just like Rich to do that, he thinks. The man is over-the-top polite in every scenario; he thanks everyone over and over, he holds doors open for strangers, he pushes his chair in when he leaves a table. It’s something that Taron has always admired in Richard, a quality that has always made him love him even more. 

But now he thinks that maybe Rich has only texted him to be polite. Maybe he’s just texting him to be nice so that their friendship doesn’t end on the sour note that had been their date last night. So when he answers, he is cordial, but there is no emotion behind it. He nearly scoffs when the text comes through and Rich pretends like he wants to hang out again; another attempt at being polite. He deflects, and their conversation ends. 

After he sets his phone down, he is filled with an immense sadness, like a weight pressing down on him. He wants nothing more than to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers again; disappear from the world until he feels ready to face it without Richard. 

But face it without Rich he must, because the show must go on. If life has taught him anything, it’s that.

---------

For the next two weeks, they are both at a stalemate, both men wanting desperately to reach out and both being too stubborn and pig-headed to do so. Taron sits in his flat, goes over the scripts that he’s sent, stares occasionally at his phone and pretends like he’s not hoping to see Rich’s name light up. He watches telly mindlessly, flipping through the channels and trying to distract himself from Richard’s face, which pushes its way into his mind more often than not.

Richard does the same, but he also cleans like a madman; when he’s stressed, he cleans. He scrubs the bathtub, polishes the countertops, and reorganizes his entire closet. He alphabetizes his bookshelves and rearranges his pots and pans. When he’s done, his flat is practically sparkling, and he’s still thinking about Taron.

Despite the fact that they are both constantly thinking about the other, neither of them wants to be the first to text. Neither of them think there is anything to text about. 

One night, though, Richard is sitting at home and he’s bored. He’s more than bored, he feels as though he will crawl out of his skin if he doesn’t get out of his flat right that very second. He’s done everything he can think of to keep himself entertained; he’s read books, he’s flipped through the channels, he’s listened to music. Nothing has kept his attention, and as such he is practically vibrating with anxiety and irritation. 

So he grabs his keys and his coat and he takes off for a drive. The night is cold and clear and it smells like winter. He marvels at the blue-black sky, inky and full, the weight of the world seeming to hang just above him. His car starts up smoothly, and he rolls down the windows just a bit despite the cold, letting the sweet night air blow into the car, making him chilly. 

He pretends like he doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, pretends he’s just driving for the sake of getting out of the house. Maybe he’ll stop and get ice cream or a coffee or even a beer, maybe, at least that’s what he tells himself.

He’s not surprised, however, when he finds himself pulling up outside Taron’s, walking boldly to the door, and knocking. His knuckles are sharp on the door, and he feels like he’s never heard anything louder than this sound as it rings out into the night. 

There’s a long moment and T doesn’t come to the door. Richard considers just leaving, hanging his head and tripping back down the sidewalk. He wrestles with his brain for another moment, and is just about to turn around and leave when he sees the doorknob turn. 

And then Taron is standing there, and it’s like a punch to Richard’s gut, just seeing him. He’s wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight white t-shirt, and he looks good, fuck, he looks good. His hair is fluffy and disheveled, and his face is slightly soft and puffy, his eyes blinking rapidly and confusedly in the bright porch light. He has been sleeping, Richard realizes, and he feels bad. 

“Rich? What the hell are you doing here?” Taron asks, his voice still thick and husky from sleep. It’s a valid question...what the hell is he doing here? 

He is unable to say anything for just a moment as he just gazes at Taron. They’re only a few feet away from each other, but it feels like miles, and the air feels electrically charged with everything that’s not being said. Richard wants to reach out and grab Taron, pull him close to his body, bury his face into the sweet spot on his neck where his skin is always the softest, tell him how much he has missed him and how he doesn’t care if they ever go on another bloody date again, he just wants him, all of him, exactly this way. 

Instead, he stands just so many feet away, his arms crossed over his chest in an effort to look casual but really just making him look uncomfortable, which he is, and then he shrugs his shoulders. 

“Well?” Taron asks, and his voice sounds slightly hysterical. “It’s 11:30 at night, what are you doing on my porch?” 

Rich is slightly shocked at hearing how late it is; he’s been so in his own head lately that time has had almost no meaning. I missed you, he wants to say. I am here because I cannot imagine my life without you in it in some way. Because I missed the sound our voices make when they’re together. Because I missed your laugh. Because I missed being near you. He can’t say these things, though; he doesn’t know why, he just knows that he can’t. So he shrugs, struggling to maintain his nonchalance, and before he knows it he blurts out “Are you hungry?” 

Taron’s eyes narrow. “You came to my house at 11:30 p.m. to ask me if I’m hungry.” The words fall out of his mouth flat, and Richard suddenly feels like the biggest fool. It is over between he and Taron, and he has been unable to accept that. He has to. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, shifting his gaze to his feet. He hears a tiny sigh escape from Taron’s mouth. 

“Give me a minute,” Taron says, and Richard looks up just in time to see T disappear back inside. When he comes out five minutes later, he’s wearing worn-in jeans and a thick sweater; he tugs his front door closed, locks it, and looks at Rich. “Where to?” 

----------

They end up at a shitty all-night diner, the kind you see in indie movies and read about in novels with beveled edge pages. There’s only two other people inside, a pair of weary-looking old men eating limp sandwiches. There’s one waitress, bustling around behind the counter, refilling the coffee pots and wiping everything clean, and a bell rings out as Taron and Rich push the door open. They ease into a booth, their bums sliding across the cracked, faded leather. Rich runs a finger along the edge of the table, cracked formica. 

“Not exactly five-star accommodations,” Rich says with a small smile as he hands Taron a menu from the stack at the other end of the table. 

“It’s fine,” Taron says, meeting Rich’s smile with one of his own and cracking his menu open. 

The drive over had been silent, but the silence was not unwelcome or hostile. They were not trying to impress each other or mend any fences; they were simply together, as they’d been a thousand times before. 

Now the waitress bustles over and asks them if they need a moment before ordering; she is tired, and her voice suggests she’s been here for hours. They both order coffee, nothing more, and she sets down two mugs, fills them, returns with cream and sugar. 

Rich smirks as he watches Taron dump in his customary truckload of sugar, and outright laughs at the look on his face after he takes a big gulp of it. 

“Stuff’s horrid,” Taron whispers, but he is smiling still. Richard takes a drink of his own and nods hastily. It tastes burnt and bitter but he’ll always be grateful to that cup of coffee, because it breaks the ice between them, gives him enough courage to speak. 

“So what’ve you been up to the last couple of weeks?” 

Taron stirs his coffee absent-mindedly. “Not much. You?” 

“Yeah, not much.” 

“I--I’m glad you came by. I’ve missed you,” Taron says. “A lot,” he adds, under his breath. A warm feeling spreads in Richard’s stomach, his heart flutters a bit.

“Why didn’t you text, or call me?” Rich asks. 

“Why didn’t you text or call me?” Taron fires back, a steely glint in his eyes. It doesn’t upset Richard, it makes him smile even more. Taron has always been stubborn, and it’s one of the things Rich loves best about him. It can be infuriating at times when you’re begging him to just do something simple, but it also means that he’s stubborn about what he loves, too. If he’s being pig-headed, it means there’s still something there. 

“I thought I’d buggered our date up so badly that I’d ruined everything. I didn’t want to bother you. Especially after how you answered my text the morning after,” Rich says. 

“I thought you only texted me to be nice. You’re always so polite, I thought you were just doing it because you thought it was what you were supposed to do,” Taron says in the tiniest of voices, and it breaks Richard’s heart a little. He imagines Taron, sitting in his flat, thinking that his best friend, his...whatever-the-hell-they-were, was only talking to him to be polite. He impulsively reaches out and catches Taorn’s hand across the table. 

“I’d never lie to you, T. I’d never do anything disingenuous to you. You mean too much to me,” Richard says earnestly, squeezing Taron’s hand. “The truth is that I’ve missed you so much these last few weeks that it actually, physically, fucking hurts. It sounds dramatic but it’s true. I wanted nothing more than to ring you a million times. I just kept replaying our disastrous fucking date over and over in my head…” 

Taron laughs. “It really was brilliantly awful. What happened?” 

Richard passes the mug back and forth between his hands. “I don’t know, I wanted to impress you so bad. I picked the nicest restaurant and I dressed nicely. I was just so nervous, and I wanted you to like me so badly…” 

“God, Richie, I would’ve thought you knew me well enough to know that I’m impressed by you exactly the way you are,” Taron says lightly. “I mean, you’re the most talented actor I’ve ever seen. But besides that, you’re funny, and smart, and incredibly kind. You’re the kindest person I know. And the fact that I even get to know you is amazing. So, you see, you’d already done the impressing by the time we even got to the date.” 

He says all this effortlessly, as though these are things he just inherently knows and has thought about for ages. He says them as those his words are just true, as if they don’t mean everything in the world to Richard. But they do. 

“T, I...can we start over? With everything?” Rich’s cheeks flush with a hint of pink, and his hands are now laid, flat, on the chipped formica table. They are shaking, just a bit, from the nerves and a rush of love and the wholeness of it all. Taron reaches across and grips both of Richard’s hand in his. 

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Taron asks, a grin slipping onto his face, and Richard matches it eagerly. 

------

They leave the diner an hour later, full of bitter coffee and a slice of apple pie that they’d shared, and Taron looks up at the sky. Snow is swirling around them in great tufts, coming down in a dizzying array of white. Richard’s car is already covered in it, and their shoes, hastily selected sneakers instead of the boots that would’ve been more helpful, slip and slide through the fine white powder. The world is still, at almost 1 a.m., as the snow cascades down around them. 

“It’s beautiful,” Taron says, his voice as soft as the flakes that land in his hair. His eyes are shining with the reflection of the snow and the bright streetlamp.

Richard reaches out and pulls Taron close to him, finally nuzzles that sweet spot on T’s neck. Taron scrunches his face up and laughs a little, and the sound is like music to Rich’s ears. “Not as beautiful as you,” he whispers in Taron’s ear. Taron leans over and impulsively, madly, kisses Richard. It is insistent and present and better than anything they’ve shared together so far, somehow. It is a joining together, a reminder of why they started this in the first place, an erasure of their terrible first date. Richard smiles into it. 

“Come back to my place?” Taron asks, and Richard nods. He laces their fingers together and leads Taron to the car, towards Taron’s house, towards a future together.

[our-heroes-rise]

Hi there!!! First time requesting... I'll use this chance to request a Midoriya x reader story where reader is small breasted, tall, thin, shy at the beginning, cheerful when they're comfortable, nerd, gamer, wears glasses, brunette and olive skinned. I'll leave the plot on your capable hands, I just want a happy ending, please!!! Izuku and reader ending up together!!! Thank you so much!!!

i think i had a bit too much fun writing this, haha. i deeply apologize for the ridiculously long wait though, hun, and i hope you enjoy what i’ve written for you. i rewrote this three times then finally got something i was happy with on the third try. think i’ll try to incorporate the “realistic” messages more often, they’re sure fun to make. anyway, hope you like it!

———————————————————————

Your fingers thrummed anxiously against the hardwood table as you stared blankly at the textbook before you, not at all taking in the very much helpful information it provided for figuring out the problem you had been stuck on for the past ten minutes. It wasn’t entirely your fault that you couldn’t bring yourself to focus though.

Ten minutes. They were all ten minutes late.

It wasn’t normal for all of them to be late. Momo was always on time -- always early, in fact. She never allowed herself to be less than five minutes early. Which was why you were extremely surprised when you entered the small coffee shop to find your friend’s usual table vacant of the beautiful high black ponytail.

There were no new messages in the group chat, you had already checked about a million times since you had arrived.

Nothing to let you know that anyone would be running late, or had canceled plans. It was so unlike Momo -- so unlike everyone, honestly. And it made you nervous.

Had something happened to them? Did a message not get through to you or something? What if they had all said that they couldn’t make it and he showed up expecting everyone to be here but all he found was you sitting at a table by yourself? Oh God, that would make it look like you lied to him. Would he be mad and want to leave? Why would he want to stay? He had probably only said he would come because he didn’t want you to feel bad if he rejected your offer.

That didn’t make sense anyway, he was in the group chat so even if you didn’t get the message that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Why would he even bother coming then?

Dear Lord, you wished your brain would shut up.

Two years. Two whole stupid years you have had a crush on him and never once had you tried to “shoot your shot”, as Mina would put it. You would face a hundred villains and All Might himself before you decided to muster up the courage to shoot your dumb friggin shot and face the possible embarrassment of rejection. It had taken you months to actually stand there like a big girl and have a decent conversation with him without stumbling over your words and averting your eyes away from him every two seconds. Then even longer to just ask him to hang out with you.

But not alone. God, no, not alone. You had to have other people there or else it would be too intimate, at least with other people you could have other things to distract yourself with if things got awkward. Keeping up a conversation with people you liked or weren’t extremely familiar with wasn’t exactly your forte. Your brain always seemed to draw a blank, which made normal human interaction a pain.

If you got stuck alone here with him you weren’t sure that you could forgive your friends for ditching, unless something really serious had happened. Geez, how would you even focus on your work? The study session hadn’t entirely been a ploy made up by your friends and yourself just to get to spend time with your crush. You had actually planned to study for the upcoming math test. You weren’t exactly terrible at math. Usually, you didn’t have much of a problem with it, but this unit had been utter hell, to put it bluntly. If someone is trying to become a hero, why do they need to know how to calculate the length and space between a curve on a graph? Really, what was the point?

A shrill ping echoed through your headphones, interrupting your blaring music and causing you to flinch slightly out of your thoughts.

Your eyes narrowed as they trailed further and further down the paragraph, suspicion settling into the pit of your stomach. All three of your most family-oriented friends forgot they had previous arrangements with their families? Doubtful. Mina getting food poisoning sounded about right, she sat with Sero and Kaminari during lunch sometimes, who are always daring her to eat disgusting food combinations. Jirou offering to help take care of said sick Mina? Absolutely not. Jirou can not stand to be around sick people, it grosses her out. She would rather spend ten minutes flirting with Bakugou than smell another person’s food-poison vomit.

If they had wanted to lie they should have tried a little harder to make it believable.

You weren’t going to call them out on it, though. Not once the realization dawned on you that your friends had, in undeniable fact now, left you all alone with your crush. And on purpose.

Why do they hate me?!

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, at a loss for what to say, until you saw his message slide through the chat.

Your heart lurched into your throat at his question. Now was your chance to ditch, to reschedule the plans for another time, and you were already typing up your excuse when another message pinged through your headphones.

This was completely unfair. They had all promised to be here with you and now they were all dropping out on you at the last second like they had planned this all along. Which, honestly, is probably what they had done.

You let out a heavy sigh, slumping further down into your seat, textbook and notes completely forgotten.

Truly, you knew your friends meant well in all of this, you just wished they had chosen a better way to go about it.

But, there really isn’t a better way, is there?

You certainly weren’t going to make the first move and Midoriya probably wasn’t either - if he even liked you that way. Despite the great amount of confidence he had gained over the past few years, mostly regarding his fighting style and the way he spoke to Bakugou, he could still be easily flustered, even if it wasn’t as common as before. So, no, you supposed there definitely wasn’t a better way your friends could have pulled this off.

Another heavily anxious sigh pushed past your lips as you fixed your slouching posture and reopened the group chat.

You let your fingers loom over the keyboard, once again, seriously contemplating your original idea to take a raincheck. Midoriya wouldn’t be upset with you, he would be completely understanding, especially if your excuse was good enough. Period cramps were a thing, ya know? Sometimes they caught you off guard and maybe you just didn’t -

Oh, for Christ’s sake, screw it.

That wasn’t too bad.

No, it was perfectly fine and he would be here in a few minutes.

He would be here in a few minutes.

Oh, for the love of All Might, he would be here, with you, alone, in a few God forsakenly short minutes and you had not a clue in the whole stupid world how this was going to go. You were panicking, a sort of pathetic amount, if you were going to be honest with yourself.

This was just Midoriya.

Midoriya, the cute nerdy kid who was the absolute sweetest person you had ever met in your entire life. The I Can And Absolutely Will Give My Life To Protect Everyone I Know And Love, Midoriya. The Midoriya who could shatter ten brick walls with less than a fifth of his power and still have enough to fend off three hundred more waiting villains.

Midoriya, the kindest, most gentle, and fiery soul you had ever known. The soul you had so stupidly allowed yourself to fall in love with these past few years.

Love.

That was a strong word, but something about it felt right when you applied it to your feelings for the gentle green-haired boy, which was a little terrifying, considering that most of his perspective of you was largely unknown. It was probably just your overly hormonal teenage brain trying to convince you that this emotion could only be found in the green eyes of the one and only class nerd. That didn’t matter anymore though. You knew you had already let yourself fall too far from the cliff edge to have any hope of saving yourself now.

Screw it, you repeated to yourself, tossing your phone back onto the table to resume staring blankly at your textbook, your brows only slightly more furrowed than before.

You had already started digging this grave two years ago, fully aware of the consequences, might as well finish it up and lay in it, nothing worse could come of it. Except, maybe, being buried alive and suffocating under the weight of your own regret.

It’ll be fine. It’s just Izuku. My friend. My friend... that I’ve had a crush on for -

It was a long - but still too short - couple of minutes.

Midoriya arrived at the cafe ten minutes later looking surprisingly out of breath. The freckled bridge of his nose and cheeks were a bright rosy red, bitten from the crisp winter evening air. He slumped into the chair across from you, flashing you the brightest smile you had ever seen while he set his bag down beside him.

“Sorry, I’m late,” He said, voice garbled through the noise of your headphones, which you immediately yanked out. “I was talking to Kirishima and completely lost track of time. I’m glad you waited for me though.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay,” you stammered, doing your best to return his smile just as confidently, though you were sure anyone could see how terribly flustered you already were. “I really hadn’t been waiting that long, I’m just happy you were able to come.” His breathing still sounded slightly labored as he pulled out his notebook and Algebra textbook, your brow quirked up in curiosity. “Izuku, did you run all the way here or something?”

A flush that you know has nothing to do with with the cold flares up his entire face to the tips of his ears, and his green eyes flicker sheepishly towards yours. “Uhm - Well, yeah, I felt bad for keeping you waiting for so long. Don’t worry, it was just a couple of blocks, I’m okay.” A small breathless laugh bubbled past his lips, “I’m thankful for Aizawa’s endurance training though.”

“Yeah,” you laughed with him, too aware of the heat you felt crawling up your neck. He had actually ran all the way from the dorms to the coffee shop just for you, because he felt guilty for keeping you waiting, even if it had only been a couple of minutes.

It was silly for you to dwell on such a thing, honestly. Midoriya really was just that type of person, it wouldn’t be considered a big deal to anyone else, but to you it meant the world. And you couldn’t do anything to tame the butterflies in your stomach when you pictured him, face scrunched with slight panic and focus as he rushed through the evening crowds all the way here, just to get to you quicker.

“I know it’s a bit late and all,” Midoriya mumbled, bringing you back into reality with a small jolt that, thankfully, went completely unnoticed by him as he still had his face in his bag. “But did you want anything from the cafe? I brought some money with me.”

“No, I’m okay, thank you though.” You were wide awake right now, caffeine wouldn’t do anything but make your nerves worse.

A small frown tugged at the corner of his mouth once he came back up from his bag, beaten up All Might wallet in hand. It was a challenge not to crack a smile in its direction. “You sure? I really don’t mind getting you something. I feel like I should pay you back for waiting for me.”

You rolled your eyes picking up a playful smile so he knew you weren’t actually irritated with him. “I told you, it’s fine, Izuku. You didn’t keep me waiting long, I promise.” You waved a hand in the direction of the cafe bar, “If you want to get something, go ahead, I don’t mind waiting a few more minutes.”

Midoriya paused for a moment, casting his gaze off to the side for a second before he shook his head. Seemingly having made a decision he tucked his wallet back into his backpack and gave you a warm grin. “I’m fine, I was really just asking for you, but I’m glad you’re not upset. You’re really too sweet, Y/n. Anyway, was there anything you wanted to go over first? Ochaco said you were struggling with-”

But your mind had started buzzing the second his compliment had reached your ears. A part of your brain was screaming at yourself to get a grip and the other part of you just really, really wanted to hear him say it again with that same heart-melting smile of his.

“Yeah,” you said absently, unaware as to what you were actually agreeing to. You knew the smile you were giving him must have made you look like a lovesick puppy ready to barf rainbows, yet you didn’t have enough properly operating brain cells to make you care. “We can start with that first.”

“Okay, that’s great! I have some notes you can look over if you want, or I can explain it if you’d like. I was also having trouble with this, but Iida was able to explain it to me in a way that actually makes sense, so I can try to explain it the same way. Is that alright?”

It took all of your focus to make yourself look down at the notebook he was holding out for you and actually process the words written on the paper. Then another few seconds for you to realize that you had no clue what in the hell the notes were talking about. Yeah, you definitely couldn’t zone out anymore or else you would be utterly screwed by the time the test came around.

“Uh, explain it, please?” you mumbled, casting a quick shy glance in his direction. “If you don’t mind.”

He chuckled and the sound made the heat in your cheeks grow a little hotter. “Not at all. So, the way Tenya explained it was like this...”

It was quite a feat to keep your brain focused on the task at hand rather than on the way Midoriya’s hand would brush against yours every once in a while when he was showing you how to solve a problem. Or the way his nose crinkled when he thought something you did was funny, but clearly didn’t want to laugh at for your sake. Or the way he had asked if he could sit next to you instead of across from you because it would be a lot easier for him to show you what he was doing. And the way his warm shoulder - covered in a large grey hoodie that had no right looking that good on him - pressed gently into yours.

It had been a difficult battle, but you had won. By the end of the night, you were caught up on everything you hadn’t understood in Algebra a couple hours prior. Midoriya grinned proudly down at your practice problems, unable to find a single mistake this time.

“You’re a really quick learner, Y/n,” he laughed, tilting his head to look back at you, his green eyes sparkling. “Are you sure you needed my help in the first place?”

You flushed, letting out a small giggle. “Oh, definitely,” you responded softly from behind the hand you had brought up to cover your mouth. “I didn’t know what the heck I was doing until you got here. It all just looked like a bunch of-”

“You shouldn’t hide your smile like that. It’s too beautiful to keep hidden.”

“H-Huh?” Oh, your face was totally on fire now.

Had you heard him correctly?

“I-I mean - U-Uhm - I’m really sorry!” Midoriya stammered, his hands immediately flying up into the air as if he didn’t know where to put them anymore as he quickly shuffled away from you on the booth. “That was really weird of me to say, sorry. I just - well, uhm - just -” he moved his text book over towards him and stared intensely at it, obviously intent on not making anymore eye contact with you.

Which was the absolute last thing you wanted right now, but you were still trying to wrap your head around everything that had just happened. That wasn’t the usual Midoriya compliment. He didn’t tell all of his friends how beautiful he thought there smiles were. It didn’t even seem like he had meant to say it in the first place, he was so flustered now.

“Was there - uhm - anything else you wanted to go over? I’m pretty much caught up on everything, so it’s - it’s whatever you want to do.”

Well, that definitely caught your attention. “You’re caught up on everything?” You asked slowly, brain still buffering severely. Midoriya nodded, green curls bouncing with the jerky movement. He didn’t look at you though. “Izuku, did you rush all the way out here just to help me?”

Again, not a thing Midoriya wouldn’t naturally do on his own, but the way he was reacting was a clear sign that this wasn’t just because of that fantastically kind heart of his. Warm hope, that you didn’t have the willpower to crush, bloomed large and all consuming within your chest.

He nodded once again, but this time you caught the apprehensive glance he shot at you from the corner of his eye. “Y-Yeah.” You noticed how prominent his freckles looked against the firey color of his cheeks, and it made your heart flutter. Midoriya let out a heavy sigh before finally looking back towards you, textbook forgotten. “Ochaco said it was a good idea for us to hang out together because - well - I - she knows that I - that I’ve liked you for a while.” The last part was barely loud enough for you to hear over the night time rush of the cafe, but your ears had most definitely not failed you that time.

“M-Me?”

Yes, you idiot! Who else would he be talking about?

Ochaco had known about it. Your best friend had known about it and hadn’t told you? Had let you keep your feelings for him buried deep within your heart for all of that time.

You couldn’t blame her, no matter how terribly you wanted to. You knew Ochaco did it with the best intentions. Ochaco wasn’t one to go around spilling everyone’s secrets. She had probably kept hope that Midoriya - or maybe you, even though the chances of that were slim to none - would finally admit to one another. That made this grand scheme of hers her way of telling you and Midoriya that even she had gotten tired of waiting for you two.

“Yeah, I told her this was a bad idea and that you probably didn’t feel the same way, but she insisted,” he added quickly, hands gone back to moving around the air awkwardly. “I’m really sorry that I’ve made this really weird now, I - I can leave if you want.”

Without thinking - just as you had been through out the course of this entire conversation - your hand shot out to wrap around one of his to keep him in place, even though he had made no indication of getting up.

“No!” You winced at your sudden volume, face burning again. “No, you can stay. Trust me, you haven’t made it weird, I’m just - uhh - trying to, I guess, process everything. Give me a second, please?”

Midoriya looked visibly stunned, but nodded his quick jerky nod nonetheless, bouncing his green curls again. Your brain ran through everything he had just said over and over until you were absolutely positive you hadn’t imagined any of it. Until you were absolutely positive that the boy you had so stupidly allowed yourself to fall for had just admitted having feelings for you. It wasn’t a trick of your mind from lack of sleep or too many hours of work, Midoriya had really just said all of that. That he thought your smile was too beautiful to hide, that he had ran all this way not because he needed to study but because he wanted to make sure you didn’t need his help, that he liked you. But not just liked you, he had liked you for a while.

A while. How long was that?

Probably not as long as you, but the answer didn’t matter. You were sure that he could have told you it was for the past couple of hours and you would still be just as happy.

A gentle squeeze around your hand from calloused fingers pulled you back to Earth, and you looked down to find that his hand - only slightly bigger than yours - was still wrapped up tightly in your own as if you were too scared to let go of him, scared he would disappear like the remnants of a dream.

“A-are you sure I didn’t make it weird?”

You laughed breathlessly, a bright grin lighting up your face as you lifted your eyes to meet his. His shoulders had relaxed a tiny bit, but his emerald eyes were still swimming with anxiety, even when you shook your head no.

“I’m - I’m sure, Izuku. I promise you didn’t make it weird.” You glanced down to pull his hand into your lap as you shifted in your seat to face him properly. Truthfully, you should have let go of his hand a while ago, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it yet. At least, he didn’t seem to mind. “I just - I dunno - I guess, I thought I would never be able to hear you say those words and I’m still having a hard time believing that you’ve even said them-”

“I said them!” He jumped in, the anxiety replaced by overwhelming joy. “That was all real, trust me, my heart is still pounding from the anxiety.” He let out a shaky laugh to which you joined him in. “I wasn’t at all sure how tonight was going to go. All Ochaco had told me was that I should trust her and that everything would be fine and, honestly, I didn’t know whether to believe her or not. But then when I got here and I saw you I knew there was no way I could keep this from you anymore. I had planned to tell you on the way home, except, well, I guess spending all of this time alone with you was enough to push me over the edge.”

You grinned and softly breathed, “I’m glad.”

——

There hadn’t been many people left out on the streets, this part of town never really got busy after dark because there were no bars or clubs. Only small shops and businesses that closed no later than ten lined this city block and every city block within a five mile radius of U.A. The frosty night air nawed at the warmth from your cheeks, washing them with a deep shade of scarlet. You curled into the warmth of your thick wooly sweater, thankful that you had thought to put it back on before leaving the cafe.

One of your hands took refuge in your cozy double sleeve so that it was no more than a nub of thick cloth, while the other, wound frigid fingers through the tender warmth his hand provided. A small, content smile adorned your face as you walked closely together, shoulders brushing with each step, to conserve the heat between you two.

Midoriya was beaming. He hadn’t stopped since he had left the cafe with his hand in yours, heart singing in delight at the sensation of your fingers slotted perfectly through his, like the missing pieces of a puzzle. His joy and excitement was so clearly bubbling past the brim of his self-control, you were sure that if he could smile any brighter that he would, just to show how proud he was to be holding your hand.

Neither of you said anything on your walk back to the dorms. You didn’t have to and neither did he, even if his posture said that he could barely contain himself. Midoriya could speak if he wanted, knew that without a shadow of a doubt, but he chose not to. He chose to walk with you, hand intertwined with yours, on a blissfully quiet trip back to the dorms, basking in your presence. Just as you did so happily with him.

Minutes pass much too quickly though, and it seems like you’re upon the entrance steps of the dorms only seconds later. He pauses and you stop with him, turning to face him, eager for the buildings heat, but more eager to understand the hesitation that flickers in his gaze. Another moment of silence passed before he turned to you, freckled cheeks flushed a bright red that once more has to do with far more than just the cold.

You wait patiently, eyes soft and mouth still pulled into a gentle smile that wordlessly urges him to speak his mind. He takes you in for one last moment, his beaming grin grown slightly muted as he searches for the confidence he needs, which he quickly finds resting in your own gaze.

“I - uhm - I just wanted to thank you,” he started quietly, “for making tonight so amazing. I really can’t tell you how happy it made me.”

Oh, you were going to swoon, truly.

This boy...

After all that he had done for you tonight, he still wanted to thank you. To thank you. When all you had done was show up and bottle up your feelings for the past two years. You didn’t deserve him and you weren’t sure if the universe had already realized its mistake, but there was no way in hell you were going to give him back now.

“Izuku,” you sighed, your smile lifting fondly at the edges, “I should be the one thanking you here. You went through all of this trouble today just to help me out and if it weren’t for you I would still be sitting there with that stupid text book and my harbored feelings not knowing what the heck I was supposed to do. So, thank you for all that you did for me tonight and making it one I will forever remember.”

His mouth fell open in a look of awe and soft adoration, then within one swift step forward, he swooped down and gently pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was short and sweet, a fleeting brush of his lips, but it was enough to warm your entire body in a flood of overwhelming heat.

Midoriya pulled away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, likely matching your own, and gaze slightly chagrined. “S-Sorry, I should have asked.”

You beamed, shaking your head vigorously as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your forehead to rest against his, “Stop apologizing for silly things and kiss me again.”

“S-Sor - I mean - wait, really?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at the genuine surprise in his eyes, it was adorable. “Yes, Izuku, yes, kiss me again.”

And so he did. With a grin that reflected your own, he pressed his lips against yours once more, this time more firmly than the first, and brought his hands to your hips to pull you closer.

The night wasn’t so cold anymore. He warmed your heart, your chest, your body, your soul. Everything you could ever ask for, he was a brilliant pillar of light that radiated comforting heat and he was all yours. Your own personal ray of sunshine that you would hold on to for as long as you could.

———————————————————————

✨ written 10/9/19 ✨

[prorevenge]

Contract Negotiations in a Second Language

This one's a bit bit, sorry for the length, I've tried to cut it down... hard to do without losing some twists and turns in the story. Hope you think it's worth it, I sure do!

TLDR @ the End.

I work in China as an English teacher. There are hundreds of great jobs out here, but at least an equal portion of people trying to screw you in every way possible. Each company I've worked with has been an education in paperwork, contract negotiations, and leverage. 6 years in, I'd like to think I'm finally getting the hang of it. 6 years working here isn't unheard of, but it's rare, and my level of education/job experience (plus standard white face) sells for quite a premium here.

At this private school I'm one of 3 foreign teachers, a job that carries a lot of prestige locally, and brings in a lot of students (read $$$), as only certain schools are even permitted to hire foreigners and even less can afford/find them. During recruitment periods, parents are paraded into my classroom, and I'm sometimes given bonuses because of how often I'm complimented on my energy, teaching style, even handsomeness (this matters in China... I'm NOT handsome, but white in rural China is auto-handsome). The other foreign teachers here are African--and yes, there's a substantial racial bias, and they get paid much less. I've chosen this school, because it's got the lowest cost of living area with the highest offered salary---but most importantly the highest amount of free time. I work about 20 hours per week, save 70% of my salary, and spend the rest traveling. I had negotiated a VERY competitive salary. I also signed a non-standard contract that I had personally edited. I was proud of myself... at least until....

I arrived at the school and the international staff liaison immediately asked me to sign their 'standard contract'--the earlier one was a mistake, and couldn't be submitted for my visa. I now knew this was one of "those schools" I'd heard stories... they would do anything to screw over the 老外 (foreigner). I pulled up my big-boy britches. ... I needed to be prepared. ... I wasn't...

Initially, I didn't even read the "standard contract," it offered me only 2/3's of my agreed upon salary, so I told them to update that. They returned (days later) and I read it--a horrific document that would lose me: my Christmas holiday (a great luxury in China), my salaried status (a shift to per/class pay with no pay for canceled classes), and even allow them to charge me if I leave without finishing my contract. More terrifying still? "additional 'activities' or 'events' could be assigned without pay or notice" apparently at any time. The contract would also require me to locate another foreign teacher 'replacement' before allowing me to sever employment, and prevented me from leaving this school for any competing school in China.

"Everyone signs it!" was chanted at me by four separate workers (all of the English speakers in the building), each appalled that I was arguing. I informed them "I'm not everyone. We'll stick to my contract."

(I found out later, everyone apparently does sign it. They just don't bother following it. The other foreign teachers just run away on payday. The school has lost more than 10 teachers this way.)

Four individual attempts were made to rewrite the "standard" contract to include what I had negotiated for. Each new version left out new things... (I hate to ignore Hanlon's Razor: "Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity." , but we were approaching the edge of Occam's Razor here... "The simplest explanation is usually true.") God, I prayed they were only stupid! By the end, I simply wrote the contract using their format.

Except by then we were 6 months into the school year. Operating that long without an official contract in China is dangerous, and can allow the government to seize my 'illegal wages.' But there were just 3 more months until summer vacation... except...

that's when the school decided that they didn't want to pay my summer salary. Now my paperwork clearly said that I was a salaried employee, and that I was to be paid whether they had classes or not. Summer had no classes, I pointed out, but I still get paid. ... I hadn't anticipated them creating a summer school just to give me classes. But, the dates for 'summer holiday' wasn't specified, so I lost three weeks of my vacation to their "summer classes." At the meeting where I debated the ambiguities in the contract, seeking some discussion, a meeting of the minds, the boss lady simply demanded, "Will you comply with the contract you signed or not?" [This remains the most English and the only grammatical English she's ever spoken within my hearing.]

Would I do what I signed up for? Fuck. ... I would.

...but contract negotiations were already starting... for the school year (by now) beginning in only two months. I hadn't been prepared before, but I was determined to get my 3 weeks back.

The initial plan was to set my demands so high that eventually insisting on getting 3 weeks vacation or 3 weeks extra pay would seem reasonable. I rejected the three contracts they offered me (each one a version I had already seen and refused the year before), the foreign staff liaison (FL) suggested that I again write the contract myself, so I would be happy with it. I sighed, and uttered , "好吧," (a reluctant "Fine.") Don't mind if I do!

I had three contract versions sent to them by the end of the day. (They were just modified versions of my last 3 employers)-- but they were written in amateur and heavy English legalese. Poor ESL (English Second Language) workers never had a chance. They balked.

Now, my email clearly explained that each contract offered different benefits, each a separate option I'd accept: One gave me less classes/week, one provided substantial penalty fees for each week my salary was delayed, one insisted that my "holiday" salary for the year (3 months) be paid immediately. Additional benefits tossed in at random: sick days, penalties for not giving notice of canceled classes/holidays, (as opposed to the less than 24 hours notice I'd heretofore received). I even added my water/electric bill, cafeteria meal card, and internet to the list.

Overwhelmed by the complexity of the documents... FL asked for the 3 to be combined into a single document. I did, again reminding them that they contained several options, and this time adding that it was really an initial negotiating position. I'm quite certain that reminder was never read. Well, I combined the documents... every potentially reasonable request I had managed to concoct over 2 months was thrown together into the final draft.

I imagine FL having a quiet heart attack upon reading it, knowing sending it to the boss was akin to a suicide attempt. That's when they stopped paying me.

I had now agreed to working one summer month [okay, 3 weeks] "free" (as it should have been a holiday), and now I had worked another month, but payday arrived without them paying my salary... my legal options were pretty unknown to me, it's not my legal system, and I can barely parse a Chinese sentence, much less read legalese... I continued to work, and occasionally remind them about needing paid... as I neared two months behind in salary... we began "negotiations."

These contract negotiations were more stressful than any breakup I've ever had: First, I would be called into the office, berated at for being ungrateful (usually) for hours, have it explained that I was being unreasonable, told precisely how much each of the workers in the office made (fractions of my salary), and then asked to make some concessions, ... I told them they'd receive concessions only if they made some proportionate concessions on their end. (This is China. None of the people I was talking to were authorized to make any concessions, they were just aware the boss lady/owner (HRH-- Her Royal Highness) was NOT HAPPY with my requests [or perhaps would be not happy?--I still don't know if/when she read the contract]) But there was nothing they could do... I started playing games on my laptop while waiting for them to run out of stamina. I wracked up 120+ hours on the game. Wake up. Go to class. Go to meetings. Get yelled at. Lunch break, go home, nap, return in the afternoon for a repeat performance. Had this for an entire two weeks with little variation... well sometimes the meetings were before class, sometimes the meetings were after. Variety is the spice of life! I began to look forward to classes, as they were a reason to escape "meetings."

Finally, someone must have decided I wasn't going to budge, and the contract was sent to the boss for approval. My demands had been shuffled, reworded, and buried in paragraphs--but the content was largely unchanged.

HRH immediately made a (6+ hour) trip to the school from Beijing for our meeting. Upon her arrival HRH stood for a photo session with me, I was given chocolates, wine, the (ceremonial) position of vice principal, and the promise of a raise. (I hadn't even considered a raise! I made way too much for the region as it was! But it'd been promised, so I added it into my next draft.) The meetings lasted 3 days on and off. (Although my time with her was less than 3 hours total, because we were constantly interrupted by investors, new students, parents, etc.)

On the third day, I left the meeting (for lunch) with the regretful promise that I would begin looking for work elsewhere. I already had four interviews scheduled for the afternoon.

No sorry, I couldn't possibly return to the meetings, I've already scheduled an interviews until 4. Yes, I know, it's important, but I've already scheduled the meeting. ... Okay... okay... No. I have a meeting. .... Yes. I understand. ... No, I still have a meeting... I'll come over immediately after. ... Oh, HRH wants to talk? ... Sorry, still have an interview. ... No, I won't cancel... Yes, HRH is very very busy... well, it's very kind of you to (finally) give me that promised raise, but I have promised to have these meetings, and I keep my promises. Buh-bye.

[Between interviews] I'm sorry. I have an interview now, and can't answer your direct messages, but yes, some sick days is reasonable... I've g2g... That'd be nice... The Wechat [Chinese skype/facebook] call is starting. Buh-bye.

I arrived to a very different meeting. My boss was sitting in a room of 6 police officers with a pile of money on the table bigger than a large suitcase. I was certain she was paying them to arrest me. 'Oh fuck,' I thought. 'HRH is real fucking hardcore. What the fuck was I doing?'

I was told that I wasn't allowed to leave the school, that my contract only allowed me to work for her. I agreed that might be the case, (suddenly, I was in a very agreeable mood) and asked if I could read that part in the contract I'd signed. She picked up the contract and began scanning. The contract said no such thing, but her face never changed as she scanned the substantially altered "standard" contract. Everyone in the room pretended we weren't paying attention to her.

​

She finished scanning. There was a glance at the FL.

"Yes, you will only work for me." She asked me what the other schools were offering, salary-wise. I told her. She rounded up the number and tossed two wads of cash to me, and turned to continue her conversation with the police. "Bring his contract. We're signing it now." A worker snatched the money from my hands and counted out my (very late) salary.

The poor staff. They were still unprepared. (They brought the combined version of the contract that I'd emailed... my first 'final draft'.) HRH didn't even glance at it before signing. I got everything I could have thought to ask for. I celebrated for two weeks--in Thailand.

Epilogue: FL has an easier job (same pay) in a different school now. We're still not friends, but she told me she's grateful to not work here anymore. She won't say it's my fault, (that's not Chinese culture), but I'm 99.99% sure it is. I've bought her gifts, (2) until she stopped accepting them.

This year I promised no new demands in my contract... I just wanted my salary... ... but there were still some changes...

First, since I've accumulated an additional 80% of my yearly salary in fines, (they failed to pay my three months holiday salary up front). I've had my contract reviewed by a Chinese lawyer. It may be not eloquent, (online translated) Chinese, but it would hold up in court. To be honest though, I still feel bad about them signing that insane contract, so I'm holding to the stated intention in the penalties... This year, as an addendum I added: "As the penalty is meant to be corrective, rather than punitive, so long as my wages, and the wages of my fellow employees, are paid on time, the missing fines from last year will not be assessed. All fines will become due, including all subsequent late fees, if any teacher can demonstrate that they have not been paid by the 15th." I calculate that weekly fines will have pushed my punitive figures to 200%+ of my yearly salary by that time. They asked for one change-- I was the only staff member with Christmas off, and it was breeding resentment. Instead of Christmas and Christmas Eve, could I accept instead holiday days in lieu? I wrote the addendum myself. I wrote "Upon request of Party A, instead of the Christmas holiday, Party B will receive an additional 12 paid holiday days." 12.

​

The addendum was returned signed. I can only assume HRH is still not reading my contracts before signing.

I'm now up to 4 months paid holidays, and yesterday I sent the excel spreadsheet with the complete calculations of all fines from last year. There was a panic, until I restated the reminder that the fines will not be assessed so long as I can't validate any complaints about myself or my friends/co-workers not being paid on time. I was assured (again) it wouldn't ever happen.

TLDR: Boss in China screws me out of three weeks vacation, creating special "summer school classes" just to make me work, only possible because of a bad contract translation/ambiguity. So, I rewrite my contract next year- give myself a raise, three weeks of paid vacation, free meals, and nearly extortionate fees for late payments. I could demand 80% of my salary extra this year in penalties alone. Instead, I wrote myself in an additional two weeks of paid vacation. Going to see how long I can keep this up.

(source) story by (/u/StillAdamRoots)

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Two Of A Kind

Main Characters: Loki (Laufeyson) Odinson, Thor Odinson

Summary: Loki receives an unexpected and gift from his brother.

Warnings: None! Just sweet fluff :)

Word Count:3,276

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Two new fics in two days... ya’ll are getting spoiled again! So this little fic is for the amazing @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan ‘s writing challenge. Star is such an incredible writer, if ya’ll haven’t read her stuff I highly recommend checking her out. For her challenge, I snagged the prompt  “Why did you do it?” for Loki. 

Please note:  this is very non-canon compliant! It’s set after the first Avengers movie but let’s just pretend Thor has Loki kept at the Avengers Tower under house arrest instead of taking him back to Asgard for punishment. Okay? Okay :)

XOXO - Ash

Two Of A Kind

Loki is not the most agreeable man on the best of days, and on the worst of days, well it’s better just to let him roam the halls in solitude. Thor had started to worry about Loki though, too many days spent in self imposed isolation and biting people’s heads off at every turn. Thor knows Loki doesn’t want to spend his “sentence” in the Avengers tower but he needs to be contained after the incident in New York and the tower is a safe place. Thor trusts his fellow Avengers with his life. Thor spends hours researching online how to bring comfort to people who were housebound and isolated. Most articles recommend a companion animal and Thor is coming around to the idea when Natasha comes home raving about a litter of kittens she found on a mission and dropped off at a local animal shelter. 

Thor doesn’t think to ask Tony about bringing a pet into the Avengers tower until he’s halfway to the shelter and at that point he decides to risk it rather than go all the way back. The shelter looks almost like a regular pet store with various pens around the shop, each containing a different animal. All of the puppies in their bins jump up to greet him as he walks through to the desk and he has to resist the urge to pet them along the way. He is there on a mission. 

“Hello, excuse me.” Thor says anxiously. He doesn’t want to interrupt but he’s been standing in front of the desk for a while and the girl hasn’t lifted her head once. 

“Sorry, one minute.” the girl replies. She’s young, barely in her twenties with bright purple hair and a delicate silver hoop in her nose. She types furiously as she squints at the computer screen and ends whatever she was working on with a sharp, satisfied press of the enter button. “Okay, what can I help you with?” she asks looking up at Thor for the first time since he’d arrived.

Thor chuckles despite himself as her face falls and she begins stammering an apology, “It’s alright. You’re doing important work here.” he assures her, “I’m looking for a cat if you could help me. My friend Natasha brought in a litter of kittens earlier and I thought I might want one.” 

“Sure, yeah, of course. They still need their shots and vet visit but you can see them at least. They’re still in the back.” the girl motions for Thor to follow her around back to the holding area. “They’ve been cleaned up but you still might not want to handle them until a vet clears them.” 

“Aesir cannot contract any Midgardian ailments. I have no concerns over these little ones.” Thor opens the gate to the four small kittens inside the cage and begins petting them, seeing which ones are the most friendly. One little pure grey kitten in the back perks it’s head up but is pushed back by the others when it tries to approach. It lets out a pitiful mew and Thor scoops it up in his large palm to bring it out to him. The kitten looks up at him with wide green eyes and what Thor thinks must be appreciation. He gives its little head a few pets and to his surprise the kitten begins to lick at his palm eagerly. “Do cats usually do this? I thought licking was a dog trait?” he asks the girl.

The girl shakes her head, “No, it’s not common. She must like you.” 

“I’ll take her.” 

The girl blinks in disbelief at his decisiveness. “Well, we have a lot of forms to fill out and you have to be approved and then there’s the vet visit she still needs but that should be tomorrow afternoon. Can you bring the forms back later today or tomorrow and we’ll let you know once she’s seen by our vet?” 

“I can fill them out now.” Thor offers and the girl nods, leading him back out front. 

True to his word, Thor settles in to fill out the forms on a clipboard sitting crossed legged on the floor by a pen of jack russel puppies. He leaves the shelter with a lighter heart, knowing he has a plan in motion to help ease his brother’s suffering. 

~~~~~~

It takes two days for the kittens to be cleared to leave the shelter and Thor was a nervous wreck waiting. He gave Tony a heads up since he’d had the time and all Tony did was shrug and warn Thor he wasn’t going to get stuck with litter box duty. 

Thor arrives five minutes before the shelter opens the morning he can finally pick up the kitten and he’s bouncing lightly on his heels when an older woman opens the door at 9am. “You’re here for the little grey kitten?” she asks but it’s a rhetorical question.

Thor nods, “Yes, ma’am. And I was told I would be able to purchase some basic supplies as well?”

“Mmhmm.” the old woman mumbles as she takes out the forms for Thor to sign to release the kitten to him. “We have a litter box and some litter, a bag of dry food, a few cans of wet food, food and water dishes, and a collar all set aside for you. That should get you started for a few days.” 

“I appreciate it.” Thor says genuinely. 

“Just be sure to get more supplies within the next day or two and set up the next vet appointment for her last round of shots in four weeks.” 

“I will, thank you.” Thor signs the last of the papers and hands them back to her. 

The woman collects the kitten and the two large bags of supplies and brings everything out front for him. Thor takes the crate in his hand gingerly, trying not to upset the kitten inside, and loops the other two bags around one heavily muscled arm. “Thank you, again.”

“Take care.” the woman smiles at him kindly and opens the front door for him.

Thor heads back to the Avengers Tower walking much slower than he usually would. He doesn’t know much about kittens but he knows a little about babies and those you can definitely not jostle around too much. Every block he stops to check on the kitten and she just blinks at him hesitantly with her wide green eyes. He finds himself talking to her along the way, assuring her she’s going to have a lovely home and be well taken care of from now on. Thor hopes that Loki will feel the same level of protectiveness over her. 

Back at the tower Thor sets the bags in his room, wanting to surprise Loki with his gift. “FRIDAY” he calls out to the ever present AI, “Can you please tell me where Loki is?” 

“Loki is located in the common room.” FRIDAY announces.

“Thank you FRIDAY.” 

Thor takes the kitten out of her travel crate and after giving her a few pets, tucks her into the large front pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. The kitten snuggles in and Thor heads out to find his brother.

Loki is draped artfully over the cream colored sofa in the common room, stretched out across two of the wide cushions with one leg dangling off the armrest. He’s reading a thick leather bound book in one hand and tossing an uneaten apple in the other. 

“Hello brother.” he says before Thor can speak. He doesn’t look up from his book until he finishes the paragraph he’s reading and then he assess Thor with a curious expression. “What do need, Thor? Out with it.”

“I wanted to help bring you solace in your time here.” Thor explains hesitantly.

“Really, Thor? What could you possibly think will help this situation? You’re the one who imprisoned me in this god awful tower.”  

Thor has the decency to look chagrined, “I got you a companion.” 

“A companion?” Loki parrots with an eye roll.

“Yes, look.” Thor pulls the kitten out of his pocket and holds it towards Loki. The tiny kitten looks even smaller in the god’s large palm and her eyes are bright, emerald green against her rich grey fur. 

Loki all but recoils, “A cat? Are you mad?” Loki backs away on the sofa. “Thor, why did you do it?” 

“You seemed lonely, isolated. I thought a companion would bring you comfort.” Thor is beginning to question his decision and is about to say never mind and keep the poor kitten for himself. 

“Fine then,” Loki huffs, “Give it here then.” 

“You do not have to…”

“I said give it here, Thor.” Loki gets up off the sofa and plucks the kitten out of Thor’s hands. He lifts it up closer to his face to study it. “Is it a girl or boy?” 

“A girl.”

“Hmm. Fine. Fine. Where are her things?”

“I’ll move them to your room now. Truly, brother, if you do not want her…”

“Let it be, Thor.” Loki rolls his eyes and stalks off with the kitten clutched against his chest. 

Loki wanders the halls giving Thor time to move the kittens things into his room. By the time Loki makes his way back to his room at the far end of the tower there are two large bags sitting on his table. Loki is reluctant to put the kitten down but can’t set things up one handed. “Alright, little one.” he tells her, “Settle in here and I will get your things sorted out.” He sets the kitten down on his bed and she crawls up to lay down on his pillow. Loki smirks and doesn’t bother to shoo her off. 

Loki skims over the care instructions provided in the bag and sets things up around his room. He’s pleased by how well he’s able to fit her things around his. Once done Loki stretches out across the bed to watch the kitten who’s currently watching him with her intelligent green eyes. “You need a name, little one.” he tells her. Loki rolls onto his back and pulls her onto his chest so he can watch her as she nuzzles at him. “Affectionate little thing, aren’t you? We’ll call you Elska then.” Loki gives her soft pets atop her head and croons her name, letting her get used to hearing it. 

Elska lays down on Loki eventually and falls asleep right on his chest. He wants to move her but doesn’t have the heart to, so he scrolls through his phone instead, looking up all sorts of things to buy for her. He never would have gotten a pet on his own but now that he has her, he will do everything to give her the best life possible. All funded by Tony Stark’s Amazon account. 

~~~~~ 

Several hours and almost a thousand dollars later, Loki hears a tentative knock on his door. Elksa has wandered off and Loki wraps up his latest purchase before going to the door. Thor is standing in the hall, hands tucked in his pockets, and he glances anxiously inside Loki’s room. 

“Can I help you?” Loki asks, eyebrow raised.

“Just checking on how you two are getting along.” he admits. 

Loki rolls his eyes at his brother. “We’re fine. You need not fear for her well being.” 

“I didn’t mean to imply… I know you wouldn’t hurt her….” Thor sighs heavily, “Do you want me to order food and supplies for her? The woman at the shelter said it was only enough to get you started and you’ll have to get more.”

“I’ve already procured everything she’ll need. Tony really needs to update his Amazon password more often.” 

“Good. Good. Well, if you need anything…”

“We’re fine. Goodbye Thor.” Loki’s tone is pointed and Thor knows he’s being dismissed. He nods and heads off down the hall hoping desperately that Loki comes around to the idea of having a pet. 

Loki closes the door and scoops Elska up from where she’s nosing around in his shoes. “Silly Uncle Thor.” he tells her. 

~~~~~~~~

The following day the Amazon truck pulls up to the Avengers Tower and begins unloading a mountain of boxes in the lobby. Everyone is milling around, confused and concerned when Loki strolls through to collect his things. “Thank you, I’ll be taking all of this up to my quarters.” he announces lifting up the first large box. 

Tony sputters in annoyance, “You owe me, Rock of Ages!” he shouts at Loki’s back. 

Loki ignores him and continues on his way to the elevator. After numerous trips Loki finally gets everything back to his room and the space is covered in cardboard boxes. It takes him twice as long to unpack everything as it did to get it up there and he’s ready for a break by the time he’s loading the cardboard out to the trash chute in the kitchen. 

Loki looks around realizing there are more things for Elska than there are for him in his room now. “We might have overdone it, little one. You’re a spoiled girl.” he gives her a quick pat on top of her head and starts assembling her new cat tree. It’s more of a cat condo by the size of it and he very carefully rearranges his room so that it fits next to his desk. By dinner time he’s finished his unpacking and rearranging. He’s settled in for the evening, eating his meal with Elska who’s enjoying her grain free organic pate in a pink floral china dish opposite him at the table. He would never admit to it but he adores his new little darling. She’s inquisitive and feisty, having played fiercely with all of her new toys, and he loves when she sits on his chest and pads her little paws on him to make herself comfortable. Loki is slightly irked by the way she laps at his t-shirt leaving wet marks on it but he doesn’t have the heart to scold her.

Elska gives Loki something that he’s been sorely lacking in the past few months: a purpose. He wakes to Elska curled up with him basking in his warmth, gets up and shares breakfast with her, spends time throughout the day playing with her and teaching her simple tricks, he eats dinner with her, and then they curl up together at night while he reads before bed. The companionship makes his days significantly less painful and he’s actually smiling when Thor finds him in the kitchen a week later.

“Long time no see, brother.” Thor claps a hand on Loki’s back making the younger god jump, startled.

“Yes well, I’ve been busy taking care of that feline you gave me.” Loki grumbles at him, unwilling to show his cards just yet.

“Is she working out? Loki, if you do not wish to keep her please let me know. I’ll take her back at once. You both should not suffer each other’s company needlessly.” 

Loki stifles a laugh at his brother’s distress and decides to have a little fun. “She’s a beast, Thor. An absolute terror. All those Amazon boxes were replacing things of mine she destroyed with those razor sharp claws. She took out my drapes again just yesterday.” 

Thor pales, “I’m truly sorry, brother. I did not mean to bring you trouble.”

“Thinking was never your strong suit, brother. Now, if you’re truly willing to take back your ill-advised gift come collect it now and let me be rid of the cursed thing.” Loki is rolling in mirth internally but keeps a stoic face as to not clue Thor in on his fun. 

Thor nods solemnly and follows Loki back to his room. The first thing Thor notices is that Loki’s drapes are still intact. The second is the large carpeted piece of furniture in the corner by Loki’s desk that he assumes is a cat home of sorts. Thor scans the room more thoroughly and notices various cat toys, a small leopard print bed, a motorized water dispenser, and several other new additions to his brother’s room. Thor glances over a Loki who has his arms wrapped around his slim waist literally holding back his laughter. Finally Loki’s laughter bursts and he doubles over, eyes watering as he cackles. 

“I was tearing myself up worrying about that cat!” Thor booms.

Loki gasps, fighting for words between laughs. “I’m sorry! Your face though, Thor. You can be so dense sometimes!” Elska hops up on the bed and licks Loki’s arm waiting to be picked up. His laughter eases and he scoops her up, “Come here, Elska. Show Uncle Thor that you’re well cared for.” 

“Elska?” Thor asks, still shocked from the sight of Loki’s room.

“Yes, I thought it fitting. She’s such a good little love.” Loki coos the last part at her while rubbing a long finger under her chin. The kitten purrs happily and leans in against Loki’s chest.

“You had me worried.” Thor complains and gives Loki a shove.

Loki glares at him, holding Elska tighter, “Don’t jostle my girl, Thor.” 

Thor huffs but doesn’t argue. “I’m glad you two are getting along. I’ll be going then.” 

Loki looks down at the little bundle of grey fluff in his arms and decides maybe companionship isn’t overrated after all. “Or you could stay awhile?” 

Thor turns from the door, stunned by Loki’s suggestion.

“You don’t have to if you have plans. But maybe you could stay and see some of the tricks I’ve been teaching Elska. She’s such a bright little girl.” 

Thor’s throat is thick with emotion. He’s yearned for his brother’s company for so long he had started to wonder if they would ever find their way back to each other. They had been brothers and best friends for 1,500 years but the last few years they’d grown apart and it had been devastating to him. “I’d like that very much.” Thor finally says. 

“As would I, brother.” Loki smiles at Thor and waves him over to take a seat. He grabs a feathered bird on a string so he can show off Elska’s great hunting prowess. She’s lively, chasing the bird around the room and pouncing on it happily. 

“Here, let me give it a try.” Thor motions to the string and Loki hands it over to him without complaint. 

Thor moves the toy around for her a few times and decides to give it a higher swing to make the chase more exciting. Unfortunately Thor does not consider his hair falling over his shoulders and the string tangles in his blonde mane, the toy lodging itself in it. Elska was already on the move and she leaps up, tiny claws out, and latches on to Thor’s shoulder and neck. She scrapes his jaw as she tries to catch her toy and Thor cries out as she rakes shallow cuts on his skin. Loki is watching, horrified and amused, as Thor struggles to pull her off of him. 

“You’re a demon!” Thor scolds her mildly, holding her out directly in front of his face. Loki is about to intervene when Elska leans forward and takes a long raspy lick right down the center of Thor’s face. Thor is silent for a moment, shocked, and then begins laughing heartily. He hands Elska back to Loki who is barely containing his amusement. “This is definitely your cat, brother.” Thor tells him, “You’re two of a kind.” 

Loki joins in his laughter and has to agree, they truly are two of a kind.

The End 

Thank you so much for reading! Fun fact: elska in Old Norse means affection/love. So if anyone was wondering about the name, there ya go!

[fallingin-like]

november 29

baltimore blues by @spanglebangle  [requested by @foxsoulcourt​ and @sig66​]

see which other fics i’m reviewing this month! / my review request post!

you’ve probably already read this fic, but in case you haven’t, it’s an amazing exploration of andrew’s perspective on the binghamton riot and baltimore. this fic has fantastic scenes with introspection and is just so impressive to read.

i remember reading this fic for the first time, shortly after having finished the books. i was hesitant to turn to fanfics because i enjoyed the books and nora’s extra content so much and didn’t want to move on, but more than that i was desperate for more content. like most people, i think i was looking for andrew’s perspective on the baltimore scenes. you did an amazing job at capturing it and the moments around it.

parts that stood out to me:

the idea that andrew’s body is tired after a game too. he does spend a lot of time not trying and the rest of the time using a lot of natural talent, but it’s exciting to me (and definitely exciting to neil) to see the evidence that he’s putting so much effort into exy

”he felt pummelled and worn out but despite it all, there was a tiny fizz under his skin. it was something like satisfaction to have denied the other team their goals and having made them curse and yell in frustration, a pleasant bit of spite he could chew on all day” this whole section is such a great vocalization of andrew’s thoughts, and it’s wonderful to see andrew slowly… finding satisfaction from playing, even if it’s based out of spite.

ooh i love the shower routine description, the post that you linked didn’t work for me, but a lot of it was the execution of it, i love the way that you really show trust, but the fact that andrew still carries his trauma with him and still struggles. recovery is a long road and it’s important that this is portrayed

andrew swapping his armbands is interesting to me, i guess i would have imagined he just bring his clean pair with his towel so that he can change it in the stall. with this though, i think it demonstrates the bit of trust, too. even if he makes the switch subtly, i think he wouldn’t do that if he weren’t as comfortable with the foxes

”he’d let andrew ask whatever, demand whatever, and would deliver it if it tore him to pieces” oh this is so beautiful

”it figured, that andrew would meet somebody who finally understood the full weight of a real promise, but would be too apt to take it like a martyr at any opportunity… and yet, being trusted to ask anyway… it put an itch under his skin, an uneasiness and yearning and odd kind of contentment that bothered him endlessly” i think this is the perfect example of a description of andrew’s true feelings about neil. it’s not as simple as liking him or being attracted to him and just saying that he hated him instead. this is a wash of emotions, unfamiliar and at times overwhelming and it kind of feels like a lack of control, which is what andrew really hates

”it felt wrong to demand answers when they might be freely given, if only andrew was patient enough” this whole paragraph is gold!! this is exactly why i think that neil and andrew both work so well together. they know when to push and pull and when to leave the other person alone. 

a whole paragraph on andrew thinking about neil’s affinity with languages? what a mood, i love polyglot!neil. what a perfect request of andrew, something that he thinks neil would enjoy and something that would cause them to become closer, both because they would spend time learning it together and it gives them the privacy to communicate in front of the team

”a pair of campus police edged their way into the crowded room… actual professionals, then” NOOOOOOOOOOO I HATE THAT ANDREW EVEN SEEMS TO TRUST THEM A LITTLE BIT THIS IS TERRIBLE KNOWING WHAT THIS MEANS EVEN THOUGH I KNOW IT’LL TURN OUT ALRIGHT.

oh no, andrew repressing his feelings ;-;

really interesting to see how you write the riot, there’s not that much included in the books, so it’s always fascinating to me to see what andrew does, who he goes to first, what the rest of the foxes are doing, and how he gets that bruise by his eye. and, of course, the realisation that neil’s not around. i like that you have them know right away, while the riot’s still happening

”he wended through corridors and broke locks to see if neil had scarpered for safety in the heat of the moment and found somewhere quiet to hole up and lick his wounds” ooo i like this sentence a lot 

andrew holding on to the keys?? ahhh it’s so much

okay okay okay. non-verbal andrew is something that i really like having included, the confusion, not understanding what people were saying to him, it really immerses me into the fic, i can’t stop reading and i find it really special that i can’t wait to find out what happens, even though i already know that neil is okay, that they find him.

the switch to have andrew speak again is so good, how difficult it is to separate him from kevin, the way that andrew can’t hide his emotion this time

”he knelt and picked up the phone and keys as gently as he could, feeling appalled he’d let them go for even a second” this is such a soft moment amidst the churning, sharpness of andrew’s anger

”andrew found himself hauled away again like a child having a tantrum and plonked outside the bus” lol cute!!

andrew losing time? yeah

”it hit him around ten that he was grieving” ANDREW NO THAT’S SO SAD HOW DARE YOU BREAK MY HEART LIKE THIS

”apparently neil’s refusing to talk to them until he sees your ugly mugs again” LOL so affectionate

andrew finally being able to sleep is so good

love that andrew is keeping the keys and phone with him all the time!!!

yes, another wymack lecture would be good any other time than this coach!

it’s always interesting to see how different authors/artists interpret the wounds that neil received. i think that, as gruesome as yours are, they seem something most similar to what i expected. burns that are a mess, and many of then, completely destroying that side of his face. i can’t imagine lola stopping at one or two of them and moving on to his arms

”they were a mirror image of crushed glass and barbed wire on high walls” yes!! this whole paragraph!!! so amazing

”andrew wanted to hate the spark of amusement and almost relief in his chest, at seeing neil be the unapologetic firebrand and fierce instigator that had snagged andrew’s attention over and over again this year, even battered and injured and shaken” your word choice is so great here, the way that you built this sentence i can’t even describe how much i like it

”it often was, andrew thought distractedly. it had taken so little to stop tilda” andrew is probably the only fox that truly understands wanting a parent dead

”he listened attentively to the story neil gave the interviewers, but everyone else’s voices slurred and mumbed together in a confusing, exhausting mess.” i love the way that you describe andrew being overwhelmed by everything. his one focal point is, and always has been, neil and keeping him safe.

”’stop it,’ andrew commanded, because he couldn’t bear the thought of neil’s hands being permanently damaged” oh it’s so interesting hearing how you interpreted this

”he leaned back against andrew’s side. it was more soothing than andrew wanted it to be” this is so soft!

”before starting the engine, he took the cigarette lighter from his dashboard and tossed it calmly out the window and into a trash can” yes! even more significant because andrew probably actually used the cigarette lighter previously

”he drove his pack back to the campus roads” andrew calls them his pack!! that is so cute

”being yanked out of the closet so violently had never been his plan, but it seemed oddly fitting for the general pattern of his life” i’ve spend a long time reading fanfics instead of the actual series so i forgot for a moment that before this, nobody knew andrew was gay. and the last part, oh. it really sucks that so many things that people learn about him are not his choice. 

andrew stopping himself from the spiraling thoughts, taking breaths and calling bee? amazing, wonderful, for once andrew is a good example to others

foxpile!!!

agh, andrew exposing himself to be close to neil, so good

”at the very least, if any hitmen tried to come in they’d trop all over the foxes lying there and wake everyone up” LOL

”he knew his own strength was largely in the physical - he’d walled off his emotions and shut down his mind long ago instead of learning better coping mechanisms. neil’s strength was in his head, in his fiery heart and acid tongue and fierce determination to live as much as he could in what little time he could gouge from the world” THIS IS AMAZING, the wording and everything, just so so wonderful

”hello, hello, you’re here, i was grieving you but you’re alive, hello, things haven’t changed so much, hello…” oh i love this

i like the checking that andrew does, i liked seeing how you describe his constant reassurance that what he’s doing is okay

”he was wanting and planning and… hoping” andrew :”)

your characterization of andrew is amazing to read, how you captured his the contrast between his thoughts and emotions that he hid with the reactions that he allowed through. did you find it challenging? i can imagine there must have been pressure because readers have seen some of these scenes from another perspective, so there’s not as much flexibility with his actions or the dialogue

your descriptions of everything were wonderful and reflected what i imagine andrew to be like. his rationalization behind his actions and how he reacted to fear after so long of repressing his emotions. i’m glad that this was one of the first fics i read for the fandom, being exposed to this high quality content definitely helped draw me in. thank you so much for writing this!

[themagiciansreccenter]

The Great Blank Spot: Greywash

So much goes into creating fanfiction even before the first words hit the paper. And in-depth spotlight on our writers and the process behind their work.

Tell us about your current project.

I'm finishing up the sequel to "Firebird"—or, well, really, the story that "Firebird" is a prequel to. It's called "The Marriage Plot" and it's a fake-fake-marriage story, or an un-arranged marriage story, or something: basically it starts with a political misunderstanding that *looks* like the only way out is going to be Eliot and Quentin getting married. Spoiler: that's not what happens.

The fics are finally posted from The Trials. Did you participate?

No, I came into the fandom after The Trials started, so I missed it, but I'm still reading my way through everyone's submissions and really enjoying them!

What is your current word count?

104,069 words, but I revise/cut/rewrite a lot as I go so that goes up and down.

Do you try to write daily? Do you have a word count or other goals you try to hit for each writing session?

I write every morning for about an hour and a half before work—or, well, I sit and work on fiction for about an hour and a half: sometimes that's freewriting, or reading, or editing. I'm trying to be less focused on output quantity and more on time spent this year, since trying for output goals seems to encourage some not-good strains in my mental health whatsits to go mad with power and make my life suck.

What was the inspiration for this fic?

Ahahahahahah oh dear. Um—the answer to that question is hugely spoilery, so I guess I'll say: the last six lines of dialogue, which sort of ~came to me in a vision~, or whatever, and then... the whole rest of the story sort of... constructed itself around that. But I think I can say that I'd been thinking/obsessing about Fillorian marriage, and how—like, skin-crawlingly horrific I find it as a concept, and *why* I find it so skin-crawlingly horrific, before I started working on "The Marriage Plot," and that definitely—informed the story, let's say.

How do you stay motivated between chapters/stories?

I don't have a huge problem staying motivated... for me it's more that I have SO MUCH STUFF I want to work on, so I have trouble staying focused. I have this little Penny-centric fic that I want to get done before the end of the current fan_flashworks round, so I have like 24 hours, and I also have a Penny/Quentin story that'll go up in the next FFW amnesty, and... possibly one or more *other* stories for FFW amnesties that are either done or mostly done, and I just! I am really bad!! at staying focused on one project.

On the motivation front, though, I will say that a big part of why I don't tend to lose motivation is that I never leave projects "at a good stopping point". This seems really counterintuitive, but it helped me *so* much when I started doing this: I almost always end a writing session by getting to a good stopping point, and then writing 9/10ths of the next sentence or paragraph. I like to have a sentence waiting for me where the ending is obvious but not actually written down, so I open it up the next morning and I'm like, "oh, that's supposed to end, 'with his palm'" or whatever, so I have that really easy in for getting back into the swing of writing.

Did this fic require any research? How much research do you typically do for your fics?

I do do quite a bit of research, but I don't typically do research in advance. I'm, like, the anti-planner, I am *so* bad at planning stories, so I kind of write until I hit a point where I'm like "oh, God, I actually do need to know how you go about getting a marriage license in New York, don't I," and then I spend like three hours on the NY city clerk's office website or whatever. I think the thing where I was looking up how to get a marriage license in New York came up like 30,000 words into this story, or something. And a lot of times I'll {{bracket something I need to look up later, like this}} and then just keep working, and fill it in in less high-value writing time—I do that on my lunch breaks a lot, so I can keep my block writing time in the morning for actually making new words.

Do you typically write ahead or post as you go?

It really depends on the project. Somewhat ironically, I mentioned this on Dreamwidth earlier this morning, but I actually usually kind of hate posting things as WsIP unless I am well ahead and very, very sure I can finish quickly. I got kind of trapped by a multi-year WIP in //Sherlock// fandom, which—I love that story, I just wish I wasn't posting it as a WIP. (Though it also wouldn't be that story if I hadn't posted it as a WIP, so... whatever, que sera sera, et cetera.)

When I was posting "Firebird", I started out with... I think I was drafted five chapters ahead at the start? Six? Maybe? I honestly don't remember, but I do know it rapidly fell to four and then kind of froze there, because I knew I needed to have Ch. 8 *very* nailed down before Ch. 4 went up, because I was back-editing all the way to 4 as I wrote 8. And I didn't want to back-edit live work. But then I hit a like... 9/10ths draft place on 8 and burned through that entire posting cushion *super* fast during the last few days I was finishing 8, because 8 was almost the last thing I finished—I had 9 and 10 almost completely drafted before I finished 8, and that's pretty typical of me, to write sort of medium-out of order. So 9 and 10 went up basically as soon as they were edited, because I didn't have that cushion anymore. But "Firebird" lent itself to WIP posting because it has, you know, like. Plot, and excitement, and some sort of cliffhanger-y bits here and there; "The Marriage Plot" won't be posted as a WIP, because it's very interior and relationship-focused, and it just doesn't lend itself to that treatment. The most I might do on something like that is post it consecutively over a few days just to not have to edit all the HTML on 100k+ of fiction in one go.

How much planning and outlining did you do before you started putting words on paper?

Almost none! Ahahaha. I had a freewritten story outline, but I tend to do all my fiction discovery by writing fiction, so I have to be really willing to try things and toss them out, which is what I do instead of actually outlining. I'm thinking about making a pretty huge change to "The Marriage Plot" right now, actually, and am sketching it out by writing some short stories that happen in the (mostly off-screen) 6-9 months between "Firebird" and "The Marriage Plot," and seeing how things crystallize. So I may be about to toss out like 20k of fiction! I don't know, we'll see!

Has it been pretty smooth sailing or rough waters? When things get rocky, how do you handle needing to rewrite sections or scrap scenes entirely?

Oh, I tooooootally don't mind rewriting. I write really fast but am bad at planning, or well—bad at seeing what it'll take to get the characters to where I need them to be emotionally, so mass rewriting just kind of comes with the territory. I also write in Scrivener, which has a Snapshots feature that makes it much less stressful to hose something—I can always go back and look at a previous version if I want a line or a paragraph or to take it back entirely.

Teaser

"Well, no," Alice says, and then her mouth twists, tightening up. "I sort of—I told them that they couldn't have Quentin, because he was already engaged."

"What?" Quentin says; and Eliot grabs at Quentin's tipping wine glass, just in time.

"Look, I had to tell them something, all right?" Alice snaps at him. "Sorry, but I didn't think you wanted to get married to some conceited isolationist—"

"To who, Alice?" Margo interrupts; and Alice stops again, and then flushes.

"I had—well, the only way I could think of to convince them was the—well, you know, when Eliot got deposed," Alice says.

"We *both* got deposed," says Margo, tight; and Alice says, "Yes, *yes*, you *did*, but then *you* took the throne and now *Eliot's* on your council, so I told them—"

"You told them," Margo finishes, "that to prevent civil war, I offered my most powerful rival my only virgin son in marriage."

"Well," Alice says. "Basically—yes."

There is a long moment of silence.

"Well," Eliot says, finally. "I'm not sure how anyone could've foreseen *that* one going wrong."

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[arrianna21]

~Skid Marks on My Heart~

Street racing can be a dangerous game, like playing with fire, but the rush of adrenaline makes it worth it. You love to support your boyfriend, who is one of the city’s top racers and you convince him to let you accompany him on his next race.

Game: Need for Speed: Most Wanted

Note: Please drive responsibly

Word Count: 3,727

“How close are you to finishing that paper?”

“Almost done. I just need to write one more body paragraph and then the conclusion.” You tell your friend.

The class you were in had just let out and you were currently waiting outside on the campus lawn. As much as you had wished you could have a stress-free summer vacation, you needed to take this class since it was a prerequisite for another one you were going to be taking in the fall semester.

Summer classes at your campus went for about three hours, which ate up most of your morning so you and your friend decided to grab a quick bite to eat for lunch while you waited for your boyfriend to come pick you up.

“That’s good. I’m missing a source so I need to find one to add and then I’m finished. Ugh, I cannot wait for this course to be over,” she sighs, falling back into the grass. The only reason she was taking this class is because she also had a part-time job and didn’t want to have to deal with a full-blown student schedule this year.

“Well, at least there’s only one week left in this class.” You tell her, taking a swig of your bottled water.

“True, at least there’s that.” She sits back up so she can finish eating the prepackaged sandwich, tugging the plastic wrap lower and taking a bite of the bread.

The two of you converse, talking about the essay and other plans you had for the end of summer while you bask in the heat of the sun. Getting up to throw away the remains of your meal, you offer to take hers as well before heading to find the nearest trash bin. When you return, you find your friend leaning her head against the tree with her eyes closed. As you quietly sit down next to her, you grab your textbook from your bag and fish out a highlighter, getting a head start on your next reading assignment.

“Thanks for throwing away the trash,” she mumbles, eyes still shut.

“No problem,” is your reply.

“So how’s Hoseok with his…job?” she asks after a minute of silence.

“He’s doing good. Slowly making his way up the list.” Hoseok, your boyfriend of almost two years, was a street racer. He had been at the top of his game for a while, until he lost his car in an unfair match. There was hard speculation that Razor had sabotaged Hoseok’s car prior to the race, causing him to lose. When you race against the Blacklist, your car has to be put on the line, and so after handing over the keys to Razor, Hoseok had nothing until he was able to find another car.

Now he had to make his way up the Blacklist, a group of notorious racers that are wanted by the city’s police department. The only way you can challenge each one to a race was to have a high bounty and win races, which is exactly what Hoseok has been doing these last couple of months. Currently, he’s #10 on the Blacklist, getting ready to go up against #9 as soon as he can win a few more races. Unfortunately, Razor is at the top of the list, standing high at #1, having used Hoseok’s car to help him take the lead.

“Hey, at least he gets to do what he loves. Better than working retail,” your friend jokes and you laugh.

“Yeah, I agree with you on that one.” Out of all your friends, she was one of the select few that actually knew about Hoseok’s current dilemma. You didn’t want word to spread and then have the police catch wind of it.

The ground vibrates as an engine growls and soon a red car is pulling into the parking lot of the campus. A few passerby gawk as they walk past the Porsche, the glossy red shining under the sunlight, black and white flames decorating its sides.

“Well, well, look who’s here.” She says while you scramble to put your things away.

“Catch you later,” you tell her, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

“Have fun!” Your friend yells to your retreating back as you race to the sports car, kicking grass up in your haste.

Yanking the door open, you toss your bag over the passenger seat and it lands in the back with a thud while you sit down.

“Hi, speed racer.” Your boyfriend greets as you get situated, pulling the seat belt over your chest before clicking it into place.

“Hey, I should be calling you that.”

“I don’t know, you’re the first person I’ve ever seen run like the speed of light.” You give him a look, narrowing your eyes briefly. “I’m kidding. Hi, baby.” He leans in to kiss you on the lips and you happily accept.

“Hey, Hobi.”

He puts the car into gear and drives to the street, leaving your campus behind for the weekend. When he turns out onto the main road, he revs the engine once and speeds away.  

“How was class?”

“Eh, alright. I’m just ready for it to be over.”

“You’re almost there.” He encourages and you hum in affirmation.

“So, what’s the plan for today?”

He turns his head and looks at you in confusion. “Umm, take you home?”

“You’re not doing anything else tonight? Nothing at all?” you prod further.

“I mean there’s a circuit race I might do later,” he steals another glance at you, “oh no, babe.”

He groans upon seeing the eager glimmer in your eyes.

“Aw, come on Hobi, please take me with you!” you beg, clasping your hands together as you plead to him.

“Babe, how many times do I have to tell you? It’s too-”

“Too dangerous and not safe, I know.” You finish for him. “But I wanna see your driving skills in action.”

“You have though,” he counters.

You roll your eyes. “On the Internet. I’m talking about in person.”  

“Sorry babe, you know…what are you doing?” he asks in bewilderment when he hears the click of your seat belt as you proceed to crawl over the console separating you two. “Cut that out, you’re gonna get hurt.” Hoseok reprimands though you ignore it, only continuing to slide forward until you’re leaning against him, shoulder to shoulder.

You nose is pressed directly into his cheek as you stare up at him. “Please,” you whimper. “Please take me with you.” Even though he is clearly displeased by your reckless actions, you can see the faint smirk of amusement on his lips.

Hoseok sighs, turning his head slightly and his nose lightly brushes your own. “Fine, but just this once.”

“For now,” you counter, kissing his cheek in thanks.

“Right, now can you please get back in your seat and buckle up before we get into an accident.” He complains and you oblige, having been successful in your persuasion.

Your boyfriend continues driving through Rosewood, casually remaining under the speed limit even if he could easily take these streets at 70 miles per hour.

“So where’s it gonna be?”

“All the way in Ocean Hills,” he informs you.

“Cool! Down by the old boardwalk?” you ask, energetically bouncing in your seat.

“Yep, that’s the place.”

“How many other racers?”

“Probably three.”

“Laps?”

“Two.”

“Sweet~” you sing, watching as he continues driving through the congested roads.

“You’re really excited about this, huh?” He wonders, giving you another look and you bob your head happily.

“Of course, I am! I finally get to see you race. And I get a front row seat.”

“You’re so cute,” he laughs, reaching over to pat your thigh lightly.

The rest of the ride is spent chatting about weekend plans and other menial things while you interject with random questions about the underground racing scene. It isn’t long until you’re soon pulling into the street where three other cars are already waiting behind the red smoke on the sidelines.

“So who’s the one with the purple Mustang?” you ask, though you can’t really see anyone through the dark tinted windows.

“That’s Ace, the green Corvette belongs to Lars, and the yellow Camaro is Quicksilver.” Hoseok explains, pointing to each vehicle as he does. There was a black Mazda parked on the side, which apparently belonged to the flag girl who also collected and dealt all the winnings, for this race the winner received $6,000 cash from each person.

“Quicksilver?”

“We all gotta have some kind of cool nickname.”

“Makes sense. And this beautiful red Porsche? Who does it belong to?” you ask, tracing the veins of his arm and you see goosebumps forming on his skin as he shivers.

Clearing his throat, he answers your question. “Apparently, he goes by the name of Jay. Sounds like an interesting guy if you ask me.”

“I bet he is.” You agree and he chuckles.

A notification pops up on Hoseok’s phone and he opens the message, reading it briefly before setting the coordinates into his GPS. 5.3 miles around Ocean Hills, 2 laps around the area. All the vehicles line up and you grip your seatbelt in anticipation. Engines growl as the cars vibrate and the girl standing in the middle drops the flag. Tires squeal and motors roar as the racers peel down the street.

Hoseok lets the other lead, remaining in the back and you look at him in confusion, watching as the green car uses some of their nitrous to pull away from the others. “Why aren’t you speeding up?” you ask.

“I will in a bit. This first turn is going to knock everyone together,” he explains, nonchalantly driving as if he were going for a midnight stroll around the park instead of participating in a street race.

Sure enough, as soon as the cars come around the bend they have to dodge other cars. The yellow Camaro slams on the brakes so they don’t rear end a blue van. Hoseok hits the accelerator, shifting the vehicle into the next gear as he passes both the yellow and purple cars, leaving only the green one in front. Following the path, you notice that while there aren’t many curves, the few that were present are sharp, easily giving racers time to catch up or the ability to lose their opponents. There are quite a few cars on the other hand, but Hoseok easily maneuvers around them, swerving through an intersection that had a truck stopped at the red light.

You glance at the passenger rear view mirror and see a glint of purple. “Purple’s coming up on your right,” you say, watching the speck grow in the background.

“Got it, thanks babe.” Peeking in the mirror, he observes the fast approaching Mustang and steps on the gas.

You speed past the buildings and other vehicles, everything warping into a blur as the needle on the speedometer hits just beneath 100 miles per hour. The next turn leads you to a straightaway, the road wide open and you were right behind first place.

“Nitrous, use the nitrous.” You whisper in anticipation, heart thumping in your ribcage.

“Not yet.”

The green Corvette speeds up, blue rushing out of their exhaust pipe as the driver uses their nitrous to try and lose you, but Hoseok quickly catches up. As you approach the turn, you knew everyone would have to decelerate to avoid crashing, yet your boyfriend manages to surprise you. He flips a switch and a burst of nitrous boosts the car forward. The surge of energy also triggers your adrenaline as the Porsche slips past 110 miles per hour. Your skin heats up and the high speed feels incredible. It’s also enough to push Hoseok ahead of the green car and he lifts his foot from the gas pedal, allowing the cherry colored car to slow down as he steers effortlessly around the curve.

Almost halfway through the first lap, there are two more turns shaped like squiggly lines, one after the other. Your boyfriend takes the turns with no problems whatsoever, still driving fast while also managing to go around the civilian cars without getting too close to them. That is, until a familiar purple Mustang drives directly in front of you, seeming to appear out of nowhere.

Hoseok slams on the brakes and swerves around them as they continue driving through traffic before crashing through another set of gates. Looking over your shoulder, you realize that there was a gated parking lot right before you enter the two curves and that they must have just decided to go straight instead of going around.

“Is that legal?” you ask, heart pounding from the near collision.

“Definitely not legal, but it is allowed since it’s considered a short cut.”

“Why didn’t you take it then, since it’s technically fair?” Your question goes unanswered and you turn around to face forward, noticing Hoseok silently concentrating on the road ahead. “It’s because I’m here, isn’t it?”

Again, silence.

“Seriously, Hoseok?” you deadpan.

“What? Is it so bad that I don’t want to do anything risky with my girlfriend in the middle of a street race?” he counters.

“No, but you would do it I wasn’t here, don’t bother denying it. That means you have no problem putting your own life in jeopardy. Come on, Hobi, pick up the pace. We are not losing this race today.” You clap your hands together to further describe your urgency and that you mean business to which he laughs, shaking his head at your cuteness.

“Okay, okay. Let’s do this!” he hollers and steps on the gas again.

True to his word, Hoseok kept up with the other racers, being a little more adventurous with his driving. It was now the final lap and he was holding steady at first place. The end was practically in sight, the two infamous curves coming up fast before you had to pass the boardwalk and then a tunnel to reach the finish line.

“Hold on,” Hoseok warns as he drives straight through the parking lot that used to have a gate until the purple race car destroyed it. Your grip is tight, nails digging into your seatbelt strap as you go airborne, the Porsche flying high before landing on the ground and Hoseok cuts across the street towards the second shortcut.

Again, the car jumps over the edge and it was a little steeper than the previous one so the impact jars you somewhat, body hitting your seat from the impact. Since it was the last leg of the race the other drivers were starting to get antsy. Green and purple were knocking into each other while yellow was trying to pass your car.

Hoseok tries to pull ahead, but the yellow Camaro cuts him off, bright taillights your only indication as they hit their brakes, forcing your boyfriend to slow down lest he end up running into them. He grits his teeth, attempting to swerve around the other racer, but to no avail as the person in front predicts his movements. Yellow bumps into the passenger side of the Porsche and the force knocks you around, a grunt tumbling out of you from the aggressive hit. The two vehicles are side by side, a guardrail coming up fast and you can only watch with bated breath. Your only available option was to get back on the road or go through the amusement park if you wanted to avoid being crushed.

“Fuck it,” you hear a hiss from beside you. “Hang tight, babe, we’re taking a shortcut apparently.”

Veering left, he drives onto the boardwalk, crashing through the roadblocks and you were relieved that it had been closed for renovation, leaving the park completely vacant. Hoseok tries his best to avoid hitting anything, but it becomes difficult when the other two racers follow behind you, also deciding to take the shortcut as well. He ends up running down an old picnic table, the pin-striped umbrella flying off as chairs and trash cans get knocked into different directions.

Hitting the nitrous, the red car shoots forward and soon enough you are able to get off the pier, driving onto the main road where the yellow car is at, almost as if you had never left. All four racers are nearly neck and neck, but Hoseok does something unexpected. He takes the last turn sharply and hits the nitrous one more time, using it all up in the last stretch as he drives through the tunnel and weaves around the approaching cars. Emerging from the dimly lit underpass, Hoseok stomps on the gas, speeding in between the red smoke before skidding to the side so he’s out of the way of the other drivers.

“You did it, Hobi!” you cheer, reaching over to hug him and he wraps an arm around you in return.

With 10 seconds to spare, Hoseok was able to win first place, Ace coming in second, followed by Quicksilver, and then Lars. The flag girl comes up to your driver window and hands him a wad of cash.

“Congratulations, Jay. That was an interesting tactic taking the boardwalk.” She notes.

“Spur of the moment decision,” he says in response. The woman nods, high-fiving him and waving at you before walking back to her car.

You hear someone yell, “cops!” when suddenly there’s a flash of blue and red reflecting in the rear view mirror. Everybody scrambles in a blind panic, revving their vehicles as they all speed away, leaving only dust behind.

“Shit! Someone must have tipped them off.” Hoseok hits the gas and drives off in a random direction. Sirens wail in the background, three police cruisers chasing after you while a whole squadron goes for the rest of the group. Swerving around the other cars, Hoseok tries to lose them by going under tunnels, cutting through various side roads, and even taking sharp turns to try and lose them, but it’s difficult to shake them as they are extremely persistent.

The cops retaliate by attempting to box you in, with one ramming the back of the Porsche and your hands clutch the armrests in fear while you risk peeking out the back window.

“Everything’s fine, baby, I’ve got you.” Hoseok reassures you and it takes you a second to realize that you’re panting heavily so you focus on regulating your breathing instead of paying attention to the police surrounding you.

After 10 minutes of some of the most stressed out moments of your life, you finally manage to lose them by driving through a nature trail, the trees giving good cover as he shuts off the car and waits until the chaos fades away. More time passes and everything is soon quiet once again. Hoseok is silent as he turns on the car, stone-cold expression lingering on his face while his hands clench the steering wheel tightly.

“There’s a safe house nearby, we can go there until things cool down.” He murmurs softly, putting the Porsche into gear as he drives along the dirt.

                                   ~*~

Pulling into the hidden garage, you watch as Hoseok turns off the car and get out when the automatic garage door slides shut. He sits on the hood and you climb out as well, sitting next to him. His elbows are on his bent knees, hands holding his head as he stares ahead without saying a word.

“You’re worried,” you comment, noticing his rigid posture even though the imminent danger is over.

Eventually he sighs before answering after a brief pause. “A little bit, yes.”

“Is it because of the cops? You did great today, they didn’t even get close to catching us.”

“You’re right, but if I hadn’t been careful, if I hadn’t been paying attention then they could have.” His fingers move to cover his face and you rub his shoulder, trying to ease his tension.

“Yeah, but don’t you have those ‘get out of jail’ markers from previous Blacklist races?”

“I do, but you don’t. And, honestly, I’d rather not see my girl get taken away in handcuffs, especially because it was my fault.” He huffs in frustration before mumbling, “I shouldn’t have brought you with me.”

You reach over and pry his hands away from his face, cupping his jaw upon hearing his words.

“Don’t say that, Hobi. There is no other place I’d rather be than with you. Even if that means sitting in a jail cell with you.”

“Not funny,” he interjects and you scoff.

“I’m serious. Baby, I’ve seen you when you were at your peak, I was with you during your lows, and I’m still going to be with you until the end. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“I know, it’s just…things are going to get harder the higher I get on the Blacklist. And as my bounty grows, the police are going to be keeping even more tabs on me.”

“You’re right, but you’re almost at the top. Earl is next, isn’t he? I mean, he’s #9. Once you get your car, you can take things a little easier. No more trying to build a reputation and all that stuff. Get your car back and then just race because you enjoy it.” You tell him comfortingly.

“Trust me, I will.” He says, leaning towards you so he can kiss your nose. “Thank you, babe.”

“You’re welcome. Feel better now?”

He hums a yes and you grin, kissing his lips.

“Good, so calm down. It’s the weekend and you just won a race so we should enjoy that victory.” You take this chance to push him down and he falls back onto his windshield while you straddle him.

“Oh, yeah? What should we do to celebrate?”

“I can think of a few things,” you insinuate with a whisper, hands sliding through his hair while you pepper light kisses down the side of his neck, the skin turning a light shade of red.

Hoseok’s own hands play with the bottom of your shirt, tugging lightly on the fabric until he can get access to the front of your chest. With his lips biting the flesh above your breasts while your own mouth is preoccupied with the underside of his jaw, it isn’t long before either of you are forgetting all of your worries.

A/N: This game was very intense! I love doing the races and crashing into things, but the cop chases can be downright terrifying the higher you get on the Blacklist. I was seriously afraid of losing my cars and getting them impounded, but wow, the excitement is real! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little story as well and as always feedback is graciously appreciated! <3

[porkchop-ao3]

Hi hi. I've been feeling down lately. Like I'm no ones favorite. Can I have a clingy obsessed Rick?

Thank you for your patience with this! Hope this is okay. I didn’t want to go too far with the obsessive thing in case it got out of character, but I hope you like it! I was inspired by my recent uni work... But this fic by no means reflects the way I work xD 

Just over 3k words!

_

My eyes skimmed across the words on my computer screen as I took a sip of tea, the only break I would allow myself because hey, I needed to stay hydrated. As soon as the mug was out of my hands though, my fingers were back on the keyboard, tapping away and filling the screen with more text. Of course, at this point it was all laughable bullshit; as are most essays when they’re started four hours before the deadline. Every point was being dragged out to entire paragraphs, my evidence was being stretched as much as was acceptable to back me up, I’m pretty sure I’d questioned the meaning of life somewhere three paragraphs ago but I’d made it work. I couldn’t afford to go back and change it now anyway, at least whoever had the pleasure of marking the damn thing would have a good laugh. My lecturers had said that technically there were no right or wrong answers for this particular essay, as long as I could back up what I was saying… Well, there was some kind of evidence for everything I’d said so could they really dispute me?

It was all my fault, though. I’d been drifting off to a peaceful slumber, under the sweet illusion that I was completely done for the semester, when suddenly that five thousand word essay I’d forgotten about drifted into mind and jolted me awake. That was two hours ago, and it was currently four in the morning; just two hours away from the six o'clock deadline for the online submission. I was getting there though, just another two thousand words would do it.

With a stressed sigh, I flicked through the book in front of me, searching the index for keywords, absolutely anything I could use. I just needed a scrap of evidence, a slightly relevant quote, and I’d be good for at least two paragraphs. I laughed aloud when I found something, it was bordering on delerium at this point. I was back on the keyboard then, bashing out my next point, just letting the bullshit part of my brain run with it, barely registering what I was typing. I barely even flinched when the darkened room lit up with green light, I just sighed again, my fingers never pausing.

“Not now, Rick.” I said, narrowing my eyes at the screen, my concentration lapsing momentarily, making me forget my flow.

“Oh, oh wow, th-thanks, that’s really -urrghhh- nice.” Rick slurred behind me, and I knew straight away that he was hammered. I rolled my eyes and read through my last few sentences as I tried to tune him out. “I thought you said you were done, on- on the phone you said y-you were fin-ugh-shed.”

“Yeah, then I remembered this entire essay I had to do.” I murmured, what little I had left of my concentration shattering as I felt the warmth of his presence lean over me to look at the screen. His chest brushed my shoulder and he reached an arm out to lean on the desk, shrouding me in his presence.

“Uhhh, are you high? A-are you even reading what you’re writing right now?” He commented after a moment.

“No. To both of those questions.” I told him, carrying on with the essay despite his quips.

“I thought, urp, you were studying art, not ph-philosophy. That’s some deep shit you’re playing with there, what is your essay even supposed to be on?”

“Please Rick, just let me get on with this. If you’re here to get laid then come back tomorrow. Or in two hours, whatever, I don’t care. Just after this is done.” I grumbled. Rick made a sound of irritation, then straightened up, distancing himself from me. I heard him stumbling around the room, fiddling with stuff I couldn’t see. Then I heard the telltale trickle of liquid on metal as he took a drink from his flask.

“Just wanted to see you, s-sorry I’m such a- such a fucking inconvenience.” He said under his breath. I felt a spark of guilt, then brushed it off just as fast. My work had to come first on this occasion.

“I’ll be done soon.” I said, discarding the book in front of me and replacing it with a different one. Fresh book, fresh evidence.

Rick came back over to my desk, picking up a piece of paper, which I knew to be the essay brief. He then proceeded to flick through some of the other papers on my desk, notes, pictures, plans; all hastily done and probably illegible to anyone but me… and even I struggled to read it.

“S-so you gotta compare these two photographs?” He asked. I nodded, not looking up at the images he was showing me. “You talked about how one was taken by a woman and one was taken by a man? Y-you could, urp, could make somethin’ out of that, right?”

“Probably, toss the idea of feminism around and I could get about six hundred words done. Thanks.” I said, making a quick note of the idea in pencil on the closest piece of paper; the textbook. Rick grabbed a chair from the other side of the room and took a seat next to me, slinging an arm over the back of my chair.

“You wrote the word ‘interesting’ three times in the same sentence, there.” He told me, pointing to the screen. “You could change the third one to impactful, think that’d work.” He murmured, disinterestedly yet focused.

“You’re helping me?” I asked, finally looking at him for the first time since he’d arrived.

“Two heads are better than one.” He shrugged. “Would it help you finish faster?”

“I think so. Hell, I might even pass.” I snorted.

“Alright. Let’s get this done, then we can make out, how’s that sound?” He said distractedly, fiddling with a strand of my hair. I raised a brow at him.

“You’re acting strangely.” I noted. “You’re being… nice.”

“Wh-ugh-at, and I’m a cunt for the other three-hundred-and-sixty-whatever days of the year?” He slurred.

“No! You’re just nicer than usual.” I shrugged, turning back to the screen.

“I miss you.” He told me, his voice so quiet I barely heard it. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder more tightly and pulled me into his side. My eyes widened and I sat there, rigid under the unexpected contact. With the proximity, I could smell the alcohol on him, and was convinced that it was to blame. “I’ve barely seen you for two weeks.” He added, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“All my deadlines…” I trailed off. I didn’t need to explain, he knew.

“Still think you should drop out. School is bad enough, but art school?” He scoffed.

“Hey, it’s another three years I don’t have to worry about starting a proper career.” I told him, twisting to nestle into his chest, essay momentarily forgotten.

“Sure, but is it worth the thousands of dollars?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” I sighed and closed my eyes, the fact that it was past four in the morning hit me in the form of sudden fatigue. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Rick’s hand stroked up and down my upper arm, his other hand feeding more alcohol into his mouth. He placed his flask down on my desk then reached for my chin, tilting my head up and kissing me, I responded for a while, leaning into him and enjoying the sensations. I knew I had to stop eventually though, and with a groan I turned my head towards to screen, breaking the kiss. Rick didn’t stop, spreading his kisses over my cheek and temple, down to the side of my neck. I sighed at the attention, but pulled away, turning to face the computer and attempting to get back to work. Rick’s arms encircled my waist, his kisses moving to the back of my neck and the curve of my shoulder, my body tingled and I longed to give him my undivided attention, but the clock was ticking.

“Okay, next point. Feminism.” I said under my breath, trying my very best to ignore what was going on behind me, but Rick wasn’t making it easy for me. His hands found their way to my breasts, squeezing them through my long nightshirt. My nipples hardened against his palms, and I chewed on my bottom lip.

“Remember, there are words other than 'interesting’.” He mumbled into my shoulder, and I snorted, backspacing on the keyboard as he caught me red handed.

“Thank you.” I said, my tone strained. Rick was quiet for another paragraph, silently distracting me with his touch, his persistent kisses egging me on, lighting a fire under me to get this shitty essay done so that I could be with him. I flicked through the book, finding a vague quote about female photographers. Perfect.

“S-sit on my lap, come on.” He whispered to me.

“What? No, I thought you wanted me to finish this quickly.” I laughed, gasping as he slid his hands under my shirt, resting his cool hands on my stomach.

“Come on.” He repeated, pulling me towards him. I gave in, sliding onto his lap, appreciating his little hum of approval as I did. I leaned back against his chest, and surprisingly I found that the rise and fall of his chest helped to focus me, and before I knew it I had another paragraph. I was close to the end; I could see the light at the end of the tunnel and all I needed to do was conclude. I saved the document, just in case, then skim read the entire essay. Sure, it was a fucking trainwreck from start to finish, but it would suffice. I made a mental note of the points I’d made, then made a start on my conclusion.

“Almost there.” I said, biting on my lip as I summed up my essay, pulling it all together to create what I hoped would be a convincing conclusion. A few hundred words later, and it was done, with an hour to spare before the deadline. I was on the low end of the word count guideline, but it would have to do. I checked my references, made sure my bibliography was in order, and loaded up the essay submission page.

“Aren’t you gonna read it back?” Rick asked me, his hands sliding down to my thighs.

“I don’t think it’ll make much difference at this point.” I said, uploading the file. “It’s better than nothing, right? At least I’ve produced an essay.”

“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He chuckled. I rolled my eyes and clicked 'submit’, immediately closing down the page along with all my other windows, putting the whole ordeal to the back of my mind as I shut the computer down.

“Whatever, it’s done now.” I said, feeling the weight lifting from my shoulders with those words.

“Finally.” Rick said, standing up and forcing me to do the same. He dragged me over to my bed by my wrist and pulled me on top of him as he threw himself down. He kissed me, pushing his tongue past the easily broken seal of my lips, moaning into me. His hands explored my body, feeling me all over like they were starved. “Mm, missed this.” He broke away to tell me, but not for long. He rolled onto his side, grabbing my thigh and hooking it over his hip, putting our groins close together. He ground into me, and I felt his growing erection against my core.

“Rick.” I protested. “This is all you’ve been waiting for?” I asked, irritation clear in my voice. Rick didn’t stop his grinding, groaning quietly.

“Please.” He sounded unusually desperate, and I raised a brow. When I didn’t respond, he slid his hand into my underwear, rolling my clit beneath his fingers in lazy circles. “It’s been so long…”

“It’s been two weeks. I’m tired. I just want to cuddle.” I whined, but that didn’t stop me from effectively riding his hand, tilting my hips into his touch. His fingers moved down, sliding between my slick folds and entering me. I cursed under my breath and clung to his lab coat.

“I want you. Fuck, you’re wet.” He whispered to me, thrusting his fingers, groaning when I tightened around him, my breath catching. “Let me…” he trailed off, his other hand going to his fly, freeing himself from the confines of his pants, he stroked himself as he pleasured me. I gave my approval by pushing his coat from his shoulders and lifting his shirt over his head. He kicked his pants off onto the floor then came close to me, pulling my panties aside.

“Woah, slow down.” I laughed, bracing a hand on his chest. I pulled my nightshirt over my head and tossed it behind me, meanwhile, Rick was pulling my panties down my legs.

“I need to- oh, fuck.” He sighed, staring at my body. He leaned in to kiss me again, a hand on the back of my neck. “How did I go so long without this? Y-you’re like fuckin’… Crack. C’mere.” He urged me closer, thrusting his cock between my legs, letting it slide across my pussy. I wrapped my leg around his hips and nestled closer.

“Do it.” I told him, my words little more than an exhale. I didn’t have to ask him twice, he sunk into me slowly, inch by sweet inch he filled me up. “Oh yes…” I sighed, my eyes falling closed. There was a slight sting, having been a while since we’d done this, but it mingled with the pleasure so nicely.

“Have you touched yourself these last two weeks?” He asked me.

“I’m sorry?” I exclaimed, confused and taken aback by the question.

“I wanna know if- how many times you came without me since the last time we did this.” He said, and I flushed, involuntarily rocking my hips.

“Not even once.” I told him truthfully.

“Mmm, bet you’re sensitive, hmm?” He asked, his fingers returning to my clit as he started moving, rocking into me at a moderate pace that showed little patience. I was grateful for it.

“Yes. I want you to make me cum.” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck and threading one hand through his hair. He thrust harder, quickening his pace early on and groaning throatily.

“Fuck.” He spat, his free hand clinging to my thigh. I pulsed my muscles around him, feeling shockwaves of pleasure each time, I let my head roll back as I bucked my hips to meet his thrusts, trapping his hand between our bodies. “Ohh god, you’re so gorgeous. So fuckin’ perfect, fuck.”

It turned into desperate, unrefined rutting, but neither of us had the intention of drawing this out. This was needy. Desperate. Purely lust-fueld. I needed release, and I needed to feel Rick cum inside me. I hadn’t realised how much I had needed this, and now that I was getting it, I couldn’t get it fast enough. Rick kissed my throat, leaving sloppy wet marks across the column of my neck, then he bit down on my shoulder. He sucked and licked at me, tasting the salt of my perspiration. His fingers moved purposefully over my clit, rubbing it tight, quick circles that wrung the pleasure out of me effortlessly.

“Cum. I want you to squeeze my- squeeze the cum out of my balls, baby.” He growled, and his words alone sent waves through my body, dizzyingly intense pleasure that pushed me to the edge. “Mmm, feel how wet you are for me, did you miss this?”

“Yes, Rick.” I nodded wildy, hanging off the edge, ready to plummet. With one particularly rough thrust of his hips, I was gone. “Rick!” I called his name loudly, completely forgetting about the thin walls of my dorm room. My pussy throbbed around him, contracting with an orgasm that I could only describe as perfect. It felt like it would go on forever, building with an intensity that made my eyes squeeze shut. I wasn’t even finished when Rick joined me, and I drew his climax into me, welcoming it with a satisfied groan.

We came down together, slowing to a stop and letting our bodies slump against the bed. Rick pulled out of me and proceeded to stroke his softening cock against my opening, smearing his seed in a display of vulgar pride. I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Mmm, look at that.” He commented quietly, spreading my lips with his fingers and watching the mess he was making with interest. I left him to it, closing my eyes and letting the sleepless nights from the previous week catch up with me. Rick pressed a couple of kisses to my forehead, letting out a satisfied sigh. The bed shifted as he got up to leave, and I was momentarily offended, until I heard the bathroom door opening. He returned a moment later with a washcloth, and gently cleaned us up. I hummed appreciatively, pulling him back over to me, he dragged the duvet with him and covered us up.

“So you missed me, hmm?” I said tiredly, a little smile on my face.

“Don’t get any ideas.” He warned, but wrapped his arms around me regardless.

“You love me.” I smirked. The only response I got was an exasperated sigh. I laughed to myself, and tucked my head under his chin. “Goodnight.”

“It’s half past five in the morning.” He commented in amusement. “We might as well start the day at this point.”

“Fuck that. I’m sleeping through till next week.” I said. He grunted, then pecked the top of my head.

“Well done, for getting all your shit finished.” He said, though it sounded like it pained him to say it. I smiled regardless. “Glad to have you back.” He added, punctuating his words with a squeeze of his arms.