#took a while to respond cos I wanted to get to my laptop to add pictures and links

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

22 (?) Give us a headcanon for Merlin :)

ok I have a few that are so commonly accepted that they're basically canon, like that he has a thing for knights, or that he hooked up with Will as a teenager

this one isn't that noteable either, but I strongly believe that Merlin is a really talented artist. he has those drawings above his desk and he was able to perfectly replicate Finna's tattoo after only seeing it very briefly. that's super impressive

he wouldn't often have a chance to draw in Camelot, but would relish in the opportunity whenever it arises. He would be like 'oh Gaius needs an illustration of this special plant for his medical archives? I'm on it'

and yeah he could do it with magic, like how he copies a seal of nobility for Lancelot in 1x05, but he wouldn't. he just likes drawing

I especially imagine immortal Merlin being ridiculously skilled at art. almost anyone can become a good artist with enough practice, and Merlin has centuries of it. as much as I love the idea of Merlin being contemporaries with every major historical artist (and a bunch of uncredited artworks being his own work) I don't personally think he would have strayed too far from the UK. but I love in like the cycle of the year, we begin again where he paints a few portraits of Arthur from memory and is pen pals with Leonardo da Vinci

now I'm just rambling about art history, but I think he would have loved the drama of the Baroque period, but would hold a vindictive grudge against the Pre-Raphaelites because 'fuck u Edward Burne-Jones you made me look like a creep'

[amanda-glassen]

Jerena prompt 13 “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”? Pretty Please?

Thanks for the request!!! If you have any other Jerena or baby Cabenson requests, let me know and I'll gladly write it for you.

Staying at the Benson house during spring break and the week before their wedding gave Jamie a glimpse into what it was like for her wife when she was growing up. Her wife’s brother Kyle as the youngest and the only son had little expectations on him other than to carry on the family name. Her younger sister Lexie had always been popular and outgoing. As a blonde hair and blue eyed California girl, their mom considered Lexie the pretty one, and expected that someday she’d get a rich husband and live the life of a Beverly Hills housewife like herself. But Serena－Serena was their gifted child and she was told so since she learned how to read at age two and a half. “Gifted children grow into adults who have constant feelings of inadequacy and self-destructive coping mechanisms,” Serena would tell her. She hated the fact that she was considered a gifted child, but when Jamie saw her wife talking to one of her students the week that they returned to New York, she felt as if that gifted child had grown into a sweet, compassionate, and gifted adult.

When Serena’s student－a boy who appeared to be about 18 or 19－left the room, Jamie took it upon herself to enter her office with a caffeinated treat in hand.

“Hey, beautiful, you come here often?” she asked in an attempt at getting her wife to look up from her laptop.

“Well, I work here, so I’d have to say ‘yes.’” Serena shut her laptop and took off her black-framed glasses. “Plus it says Professor Serena Benson on the door so that’s a dead giveaway.”

“I bring you coffee and you sass me,” Jamie clutched her hand to her heart. “I’m hurt. I really am. This drink is nasty, by the way.”

“Good. That means you won’t drink it.” Serena got up from her desk so she could get the drink from her wife. “I love you and not just because you caffeinate me,” she said before giving Jamie a chaste kiss.

The drink she brought was from a coffee shop on campus typically occupied by professors and stressed out grad students. Serena was a regular there and frequented the coffee shop to the point that the barista asked “Is this for Professor Benson?” as soon as Jamie finished ordering it. It was a medium iced coffee with four shots of espresso, nonfat milk, extra chocolate syrup, and extra hazelnut syrup.

“Damn, Serena, that stuff is like liquid cocaine. How do you drink it and live to tell the tale?”

“I think I’m immune to anything less. Do you want to sit outside?”

The November air was chilly compared to the weather they had just experienced while in California, but Jamie didn’t mind because cold weather meant seeing her wife in cardigans and scarves. Jamie had met some of Serena’s colleagues at the holiday party, but the age difference between Serena and most of her colleagues wasn’t evident until that November day when they were sitting outside on a bench. Unlike her other colleagues who were in business attire, Serena opted for a more casual alternative. She was in a jacquard fit and flare floral dress, an oversized olive green cardigan, and brown ankle boots with her hair in a bun.

“Anyone ever tell you you look like a cross between a hipster and a sexy librarian?”

“Not those who value their lives,” Serena took a sip of her drink. “Thank you for visiting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jamie responded. She wasn’t sure if putting her arm around her wife would be a welcomed gesture on campus where her students could potentially see her so she opted to hold her hand instead. “So, what’s the chisme? I heard you were on some people’s shit list.”

“Yeah, that,” Serena smirked. “I decided to add trigger warnings for assigned readings and if there’s something that’s triggering to them then my students have the option of doing an alternative assignment. The old guard thinks I’m some kind of special snowflake, but it’s worth it. My students are all over 18. They’re adults. They know the difference between something that makes them mildly uncomfortable and something that triggers them. When I came back for my senior year, rape scenes were traumatic for me to read. Some of my students are survivors of sexual assault, some are child abuse survivors, some have self-harmed. I don’t know what’s going to be triggering for them, but I don’t want them to be forced to relive trauma because of an assignment.”

Regardless of who was around, Jamie decided to kiss her wife’s temple. “You’re a good woman, Serena.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Jamie insisted. “You care so deeply and you’re always looking out for others, like the time we were in line at Target behind a woman whose debit card got declined and you paid for her entire purchase.”

Serena took a sip of her drink. “It was just the decent thing to do. She was all alone with a baby and I remember what it was like to be a new mom and raising a baby on my own. Because of my parents, I never needed money, but I can’t even begin to tell you the countless times other, more experienced moms helped me by giving me advice.”

“How about helping another new mom?” Jamie smiled. “Me, in particular.”

“Kyle just filled me in,” Serena chuckled. “He said Ollie’s fine. She’s playing video games.”

“So she doesn’t have food poisoning?”

“Did you see her throw up or did she just tell you?”

“She just told me.”

“Ahh, that’s where you went wrong,” Serena pointed out. “Unless I see that our daughter has thrown up, she’s not staying home. I’ll ask her to show me and she just says, ‘You’re gross, Mom, and this demeans us both’ and then she gets her little preteen self ready for school. You’re new to this, babe, and until we got married you were her buddy. Now you’re her mom and, as her mom, there’s a few words of advice I have. Don’t let our daughter punk you.”

“Our daughter was not trying to punk me. Olivia is a sweet kid.”

“I know she’s our baby but she’s almost a teenager,” Serena reminded her. “She’s going to spend the next few years trying to punk us, but we have a motto in the Benson family. Punk not lest ye get punked.”

“What is wrong with your family?” Jamie laughed. “What happened to trust?”

“You should know by now that we sacrifice everything for petty revenge,” Serena smirked. “On my way home, I’ll pick up a pizza with extra cheese and extra pepperoni. I’ll get some candy and soda and everything else she can’t resist. If she eats any of it, she’s admitting to lying about being sick to get out of her math test.”

“So you’re going to eat all of our daughter’s favorite foods in front of her while she eats chicken soup and crackers?”

“Pretty much.”

“I take it back, Serena. You are pure evil and it’s an honor to co-parent with you.”

[arrowflier]

Author Interview:

Thank you to my very talented friends for tagging me: @sickness-health-all-that-shit @thisaintmacys-bitch @iansfreckles @gallavich-x @abundanceofnots @energievie

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

12!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

99,198.  I have a ton of stuff not crossposted though, and my giant Gallavich file is over 210K.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Meet the Neighbors /489

Eighty-Seven Percent (Anatomy of a Heart) /263

Marriage, Mickey, and Milk of the Gods /250

F*ck the Stars /136

Ease my Pain /103

I have some Tumblr-only stuff that would probably knock that last one from the list, but I haven’t been cross-posting because I’m lazy and I feel like mostly the same people would see it anyway.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I did at first, then I stopped for a while because anxiety, but I’m trying to be better about it again!  I like to let people now I appreciate that they took the time to comment, because it does mean a lot, but sometimes my brain gets the better of me and then I stress about it being weird after too long, etc.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Nothing on AO3; I don’t really do unhappy endings since life sucks enough already.  On Tumblr I guess this one about Mickey as a kid, but I still went back and did a follow-up.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Hmm...if I go only by full finished fics I don’t have many choices lol.  Even though it’s otherwise rather angsty, I’ll go with Burn Out the Sun because it ends on pure wedding fluff.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Sort of?  I’ve used settings from Star Wars and X-men, and I have a ongoing fics that includes characters from Parks and Rec (These Undomesticated Wilds) and Jurassic World (Tooth and Claw).  No knowledge of the other universe is ever needed, though; it would just read like a regular AU without it.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I’m aware of, thankfully.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I’m working on it!  I’ve been accepting requests for practice so I can include it in some ongoing fics where it makes sense to do so.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of, but I haven’t been around very long anyway.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I think it’s super awesome when people do that!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope!  And I might be a little too controlling for that.  Unless you count that little writing game that was going around where we all wrote like a paragraph, that was fun!

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Changes when I stumble across new obsessions, but right now Gallavich obviously.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Oh gosh I hope I finish them all.  There are a couple I haven’t started yet though that might never happen, like the Cinderella and Little Mermaid AU concepts I’ve had for forever.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I never knoooow.  I say description because that’s what I like doing, though.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Also description lol. I fall into purple prose and keep it cause it sounds pretty in my head so who cares, but I know a lot of people prefer things straightforward.  It’s just not my style, though.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don’t trust myself to do it well.  I only did it once, and I cross-referenced like five different websites and was still a bit uncomfortable with it.  I’ve liked it when other people do it, though I do prefer when the translation is offered immediately (or as a link) so I don’t have to scroll down for it.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Shameless!  I’ve only lurked in others.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I’m thinking I’ll probably do something for Good Omens (Crowley/Aziraphale) during or after season 2.  My other ships are very aged and there wouldn’t be much of an audience anymore, if any.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

How about the favorite one I’m still writing: A tie between Snow White, Blood Red and Tooth and Claw because I get to play closer to my genre of choice.

I’m super late the the game because my parents’ wifi wasn’t strong enough for my laptop this weekend, so please ignore me if you’ve already been tagged or feel free to add yourself:

@sunnyian @howlinchickhowl @gardenerian @mickeysfreckles @suzy-queued

[noona-clock]

The Counselor - Part 3

Genre: Teacher!AU

Pairing: Bobby x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: Sexism, Somewhat verbal abuse

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,617

As usual, the weekend went by far too quickly.

Truly, whoever thought that a five-day workweek was a good idea -- whoever had invented that -- you wanted to have a talk.

When you really think about it, how did it make sense that out of seven days in the week, you should go to work for five of them? Why not four? A four-day workweek and a three-day weekend would make the world a much better place, you were convinced.

But, alas. There was nothing you could do to change that right now.

The fact that it was now the second week of school helped a little, though. The second was much easier than the first week, and basically from here on out, the weeks would go by in a flash.

I mean, Monday had already come and gone, and that was the worst day of the week! You’d already gotten it over with!

But now you had to prepare for the pre-test you were giving all of your classes tomorrow. Apparently, you had gotten a bit too overzealous when cleaning out your cabinets during planning, and you’d ended up throwing the test you’d used last year in the recycling bin.

But, hey. If you were going to work late creating a test, it might as well be on a Monday, right?

Just after you opened up your favorite test creator website, there was a soft knock on your door. You always left your door open after school, but you still called out for the guest to come in.

“Hey,” Bobby greeted before you even had the chance to shift your gaze and see who it was.

“Oh, hey,” you replied with a small grin, very quickly glancing at him before getting back to work. Bobby was probably the only co-worker you knew wouldn’t get offended if you didn’t give him your full attention when he came to see you. 

“Whatcha up to?” he asked casually as he shuffled over toward your desk.

With a sigh, you answered, “I’m giving a pre-test tomorrow, but I guess I accidentally trashed the one I gave last year. Gotta make a new one.”

As he usually did, Bobby perched on the edge of your desk, and he grabbed the stress ball from next to your pen holder. “Sounds fun,” he murmured as he threw the stress ball gently up into the air and caught it when it came back down.

You simply hummed unenthusiastically in response and continued typing away on your laptop.

For the next minute or two, the only sounds in your classroom were the clacking of your keyboard and soft thuds of Bobby throwing your stress ball up and down.

This was one reason why you enjoyed and valued your friendship with Bobby so much. He could come to your classroom to talk but the two of you may not end up talking at all -- he didn’t mind. And neither did you.

Still, though, after you finished a few questions, you let out a soft sigh and turned your head wearily over to look at him.

“How was your day?” you asked.

Bobby paused, holding the stress ball in his hand and squeezing it as he looked back at you. “Pretty good, I guess,” he shrugged. “It was Monday, and my appointments are starting to pick up, so the school year is in full swing, I guess.”

“Yep,” you replied with a slight frown. “First week is over, so now the real work begins.”

You let out a mix between a whine and a groan as you leaned back against your chair, spinning around slowly and letting your arms hang down over the armrests.

“Hard at work, I see!”

You immediately sat up, ignoring the inward cringe you felt at hearing that particular voice. You wondered how long it would take you to get used to Principal Howell -- surely, you wouldn’t dislike him for the entire school year.

...Right?

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Howell,” Bobby answered, and you didn’t even need to look at him to know he was smiling that angelic but professional smile of his. “I really shouldn’t be bothering Y/N because she’s trying to get ready for her pre-test tomorrow, but she’s too nice to tell me to leave.”

Truly, thank god for Bobby. You were a nice person, but you weren’t too nice -- you most likely would’ve responded to the principal’s comment with something far too sassy to be considered professional.

“Aha,” Mr. Howell chuckled, wagging a finger toward the two of you. “Sounds like a woman to me.”

You began to push yourself out of your chair, ready to retort back with something even more sassy, but Bobby interrupted you.

“Thanks for checking in, Sir,” he said.

Mr. Howell either understood Bobby’s covert request to leave you alone or he was too stupid to and simply had other things to do (if you were a betting person, you would bet it was the latter) because he shot Bobby a grin and left.

“Are you serious?” you hissed, barely waiting long enough for your boss to be out of earshot. “What the --”

“It was definitely sexist,” Bobby agreed.

You let out a strangled groan and practically threw yourself back against your seat, your strength forceful enough to spin your desk chair around about 180 degrees. “And it’s only the second week!” you cried, throwing two fingers up into the air for emphasis.

Bobby sighed, and all of a sudden, your chair was spinning back around to face him. “If you hear him say anything more, let me know. I’ll start keeping documentation and talk to one of the assistant principals.”

...Had you ever said just how grateful you were to be friends with the school’s guidance counselor? Bobby wasn’t afraid to take care of problems, but he never did it in aggressive way, and you just appreciated that so much.

“Thank you,” you nodded, making sure to look him right in the eyes so he understood you really meant it.

Bobby simply replied with a close-lipped smile before putting your stress ball back beside your pen holder and sliding off your desk.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said as he made his way over to your door. “And let me know if you hear anything else so I can add it to my notes.”

You brought two fingers to your forehead and gave him a quick salute. He returned the gesture just before he stepped into the hallway, making a soft, amused grin appear on your lips.

Normally, you would procrastinate right now. You would’ve told Bobby he didn’t need to leave, and the two of you would’ve start talking about whatever conversation topics came to mind.

But you knew you were going to have to stay late creating this pre-test, and the more you procrastinated, the later you would be here.

So, you sat up straighter in your chair and got right back to work.

“Happy Hump Day, Ms. Y/L/N!” one of the students in your last period class said with a smirk as he waved good-bye to you from your doorway.

“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckled. “See you tomorrow, Daniel.”

And just before he had fully left your classroom, you called out, “And don’t forget your homework tomorrow! Yesterday’s and today’s!”

“Absolutely!” you heard his voice reply faintly, and you wondered to yourself what the odds were he would actually turn it all in tomorrow afternoon.

You shook your head to yourself, a half-grin tugging at your lips as you began to straighten up your desk. While students like Daniel could be a handful... they were also kinda your favorite ones. Daniel, specifically, was very outgoing and loud -- not to mention forgetful and lazy -- but he was also sweet, thoughtful, and genuinely funny. He made up for the fact he forgot to do his homework 3 out of 4 days with how often he made you laugh or smile -- at least, in your eyes he made up for it. Surely not every one of his teachers felt the same way, but hey. What could you do?

As you put your pens back in your pen cup, your gaze scanned over your calendar to see what was planned for tomorrow -- and then you saw the note for Victoria’s tutoring today.

Oh, yeah!

You had remembered during your third period class earlier today, but you had already forgotten. Such is the life of a busy math teacher -- and that was exactly why you wrote things down so often. If you didn’t, you would never remember anything.

Right on cue, there was a soft knock on your door.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” Victoria’s sweet voice called out, and when you looked up to greet her, you saw she wasn’t alone.

“Hey,” you smiled, raising your eyebrows slightly. You recognized the girl standing next to Victoria as one from your first period class, but you couldn’t pull her name, even from the recesses of your mind.

“I brought Lisa with me,” Victoria explained. “Is that okay?”

Lisa! Yep, that was it. Lisa.

“Of course,” you assured them, gesturing toward the small, kidney bean-shaped table in the back of your classroom. “The more the merrier. ...Except not really because if too many people come for tutoring, it’ll turn into just another class period, and no teacher wants that after school.”

Both Victoria and Lisa giggled as they approached the table, taking off their backpacks and getting out their math textbooks.

You joined them at the table with a grin, pulling out the chair in the notch of the table and sitting down. “Where shall we begin? Anything in particular so far that you want to go over?”

Lisa answered that the lesson you’d taught today had been hard for her to follow, so you started there, having them flip to the chapter in the textbook you’d focused on just a few hours ago.

Since your lesson hadn’t clicked with either of them, you took a different approach to it this time. You used visual aids and tried to think of applicable examples -- especially examples that two teenage girls would appreciate. You had Lisa and Victoria come up with their own examples to make sure they understood, and then you began helping them with the first few questions on their homework.

“Good,” you praised Victoria after checking her solution to the second problem. “Do you feel better about it?”

“A little --”

But Victoria was interrupted by someone -- a male someone -- clearing his throat.

The noise came from your doorway, so you quickly shifted your gaze to see who it --

Oh, lord.

It was Principal Howell.

...And he did not look happy.

“Hi, Sir,” you greeted with a softly wrinkled forehead. “Can I help you?”

“What is going on here?” he asked in clipped tones.

He didn’t sound happy, either.

“I’m just helping them with --”

Mr. Howell stepped into your room, his chest puffed up and his eyebrows raised menacingly. “I don’t recall signing off on this,” he interrupted.

Your heart began to beat a little bit faster. You really didn’t like the way he was speaking, and you especially didn’t like that he was coming toward you.

“Oh, I --”

“I’m sure you’re aware, Ms. Y/L/N, that all after-school activities must be approved? By myself?” he asked, his tone nothing short of patronizing and condescending.

He had stepped too close to the table for your comfort, and since you didn’t want Lisa and Victoria to be physically in the middle of this, you quickly stood, almost knocking your chair over in the process.

“I --”

“I know that you young teachers have all these ideas and think you’re going to change the system, but I specifically said ALL --”

He raised his voice then, and you jumped a little.

“After-school activities need to be approved by me!”

“I’m sorry, Sir, I just thought--”

“Well, it’s very obvious you weren’t thinking, Ms. Y/L/N,” he snapped.

Inside, you were fuming. You were mortified. Terrified. Angry, embarrassed, and scared all rolled into one. You wanted to retort back with something smart and sassy. You wanted to tell him just what you thought of his stupid policy and his sexist remarks.

But on the outside... you found you just couldn’t. You could only gulp nervously and stammer and wring your hands together and --

“Mr. Howell.”

Suddenly, Bobby was standing next to the principal. You jumped a little again, and your heart sped up.

What was Bobby doing here?

Mr. Howell’s glare briefly shifted over to Bobby, and he muttered, “Ah, Mr. Kim. Hello.”

“My apologies, Sir,” Bobby said in his most confident yet casually polite voice. “This is my fault.”

Your brow knit together with confusion. This was all what now?

Mr. Howell looked just as confused as you felt, though there was definitely also some skepticism in his eyes.

“Excuse me?” he asked Bobby.

“I told her tutoring probably doesn’t count as an activity, so she didn’t need to get your permission,” Bobby answered.

...Oh my god. Bobby was taking the blame. 

Even though it was actually the opposite -- he had warned you about the new approval policy, but you had assured him tutoring didn’t count.

“I’m so sorry,” Bobby added.

Bobby had been shuffling around as he spoke, and somehow, he was now fully in-between Mr. Howell and the table, successfully blocking the principal’s view of you.

“I assume she has your approval now?” Bobby asked. “Since it’s just two students, one day a week.”

You held your breath. For some reason, you were convinced Mr. Howell would refuse to give his permission.

But, to your utter surprise and relief, he murmured, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Perfect,” Bobby replied with a grin. “Actually, while I have you, I was wondering if you could take a look at something in my office?”

You held your breath as Bobby escorted Mr. Howell out of your classroom, only letting it out in a short huff when you could no longer hear their footsteps out in the hallway.

You deflated back into your chair and let your head drop onto the table with a thud.

Wow.

That had been --

Wow.

Wow wow wow wow -- oh, god, you weren’t alone.

Immediately, you picked your head back up to look at Lisa and Victoria sitting across from you. “Girls, I am so --”

Both of them looked completely in awe, and apparently, your words were just the sign they needed to spill all of their thoughts.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” they both burst out, their voices somewhat breathless.

“That was so --”

“Mr. Kim!”

“He came to your rescue --”

“Oh, it was so romantic!”

Your head jerked back in surprise when you hear the word romantic.

“Wait, what?” you interrupted, doing nothing to hide the confusion in your tone.

Lisa’s eyes widened, and she asked with wondrous curiosity, “Is Mr. Kim your boyfriend?”

You almost choked on the air you were breathing, but you managed to answer her. “No -- friends. We’re just friends.”

Both Victoria and Lisa’s eyebrows lowered, and they glanced at each other knowingly.

“Are you... sure?” Victoria asked.

“Yes, I am quite sure,” you assured them. “And I’m not just saying that because I don’t want to divulge my personal life. We are just friends.”

They looked at each other again, but this time it was long enough to make you nervous.

So, you asked, “...Why?”

Both girls’ heads whipped back around to face you.

“Well,” Lisa began.

“We think he likes you,” Victoria finished.

Part 4

[anotheronechicagobog]

Hey! Please can you do one with Severide where you are staying at his place for a while and he has someone over but it goes wrong when he realises it’s you he wants?! Thank you so much!! With cute fluff and angst please🥰

Just In Time by @anotheronechicagobog

@harryskittenxox I ended up deviating from your request a bit, so I’m hoping that you still like it.

AN: My computer won’t be fixed for another week and a half. I was able to finish this request because a lot of it was on cloud. I’m not very good at using the mobile version of tumblr so the Severide x reader request with a gif that I responded to? Not the finished product, I didn’t mean to post it, but I’ll deal with that later. When I get my laptop back I’ll probably post a ton of fic and then disappear for a while because university will be starting up again. Anyway, requests are still open and I’ll probably write the ones I get sent on paper and then post them with everything else when I get my laptop back. I hope you all enjoy, this one took me a while!

*I do not own Chicago fire, Med, and/or PD*

Warnings: swearing, mature themes, angst

Renee was back, and with her, more drama. She returned from Madrid pregnant, claiming that the baby belongs to one Kelly Severide. Your... Lover? Fuck buddy? Friend with benefits? You two hadn’t quite labelled what you two were, but it worked well enough, all things considered, one of those things being that you were in love with him. Everything was going well for you, you’d just been promoted to detective, the art you’d do in your spare time was starting to sell pretty well, and your crush on Kelly had kind of been recognized. You’d returned to your apartment to see Leslie on your white couch with the TV on and a deep-dish pizza on your coffee table accompanied by tequila. “Hey Shay, not that I’m not happy to see that the spare key I gave you works, but what are you doing here?”

“Renee’s back from Spain, heavily pregnant, and claims that the father is Kelly. I had a feeling you’d need grease and booze.” Now Kelly ignoring your calls and texts for the past three weeks made sense. After unfreezing you nodded enthusiastically. You started with the pizza, you didn’t want to dig into the alcohol just yet. “I don’t think the baby’s his. The timeline just doesn’t add up. I know that I’ve never really liked her, that shit she pulled trying to guilt him into moving to Spain after she’d found someone to fix his spine, but damn, something is really off about her and the entire situation this time.”

“What do you think is going to happen to my and Kelly’s... whatever it is we’re doing?” Leslie sighed and gave you a sympathetic look. “I don’t know Y/N. You should’ve seen him though, he’s so excited to be a dad. I want him to know what I think is going on but... It’ll hurt him so much. The only thing that would stop him from dropping everything and going to Renee’s side would be if you were pregnant.” You both laughed. Leslie cracked the seal on the tequila, while your laughter slowly died and a look of horror plastered itself across your face. Something Leslie noticed and cut her own laughter short. “Y/N?”

“My period’s never been regular, it just generally comes once a month, it’s short but heavy and painful. I just realized with all that's been going on, my art, the police station, I had been so busy, I hadn’t... I just realized the last time I had my period was the days before and of the firehouse barbeque.” Panic was flooding my stomach and the glass of tequila Shay had given me suddenly became the most offensive object I’d ever seen and practically threw it on the table. “Y/N,” complete seriousness had invaded Leslie’s voice, “that was four months ago.”

You both were in full-on freak out mode. Leslie grabbed your first-aid kit and went over symptoms of pregnancy asking if you’d been experiencing them at all (the answer had been yes to all of them) while checking your vitals and such. You both popped down to the pharmacy a block away from your apartment to buy ten pregnancy tests, all different brands. “You know, you probably don’t need this many-”

“Leslie, just, let me do this, okay?” She nodded in silence. One gallon of water, three minutes, and ten positive pregnancy tests later you were crying into Leslie’s shoulder. You felt sick, terrified, and alone. What were you going to do? Kelly was off with Renee somewhere playing happy families. You couldn’t even be mad about it because unlike you, Kelly actually dated her. When your tears had finally halted Leslie went to order more food you finally changed out of your work clothes into leggings and an oversized CPD sweater. “Why is that sweater so big?”

“It’s a co-worker’s. He gave it to me when he spilled coffee all over my shirt at work. I just never gave it back because he intentionally spilled a scorching beverage on me as a pickup line.” Leslie belt out a laugh at that. “So Y/N, when are you going to tell Kelly?”

“Please don’t hate me for this, but I don’t think I’m going to tell him at all, at least not anytime soon. He’s been ignoring me for weeks, spending all his time with Renee, who he didn’t even have the decency to me was back, let alone that she’s pregnant, and I think telling him now would be in poor taste. Regardless of whether or not the baby actually turns out to be his I think telling him now would just be mean. Plus, right now I have to deal with going to the doctor’s and how I’ll handle this at work.”

“I can’t say I agree with the whole not telling Kelly thing but I do understand it. I promise that I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you, Leslie.”

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

You ran into Renee at the doctor’s office two days later. “Congratulations Ms. Y/L/N! You are eighteen weeks pregnant. I must say, it’s usually discovered quicker. May I ask why it took you so long to come in?”

“I was busy at work and was too distracted to notice that I hadn’t gotten my monthly torturer in a while, my morning sickness hadn’t been bad or at least nothing I couldn’t explain, and I spoke with my mom, she told me that the women in my family don’t show until later in pregnancy.”

“Oh, alright, that explains everything. Just so you know the gel will be cold.” Seeing your baby and hearing their heartbeat was something you couldn’t even describe. The emotions you were feeling were awe-inspiring. “Would you like a picture?”

“Would it be possible to get three?”

“Sure thing. Now, let’s talk about your personal health and some things I’ll be prescribing you.”

You were leaving the OB���s office looking at the pamphlets you’d been given when you bumped into someone. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I should have been looking where I was going!”

“Oh, don’t worry about it Y/N.”

“Renee? What a surprise...”

“Kelly, look who’s here!”

“Y/N?”

“Hi Kelly. Well it was great running into you two but-”

“You’re pregnant?” You sighed and tucked the pamphlets and photo into your bag. “Yeah, Kelly, I am.”

“Who’s the father?”

“Y/N, I’m curious about that as well, as far as I was aware, you haven’t been seeing anyone.” Renee had a look of smug curiosity on her face. “Why would you be aware of my love life Renee, we’ve never been good enough friends to have a conversation like that, so... Kelly told you. You told her.”

“You have to understand Y/N I’ve-”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear it. I am going to leave now, I hope everything goes well at your appointment and that you have a nice day.” You bolted out of the room holding back tears before either of them could say anything. You knew you’d have to see them together, you’d prepared yourself for the pain, you just didn’t think you'd have to feel it right on the heels of feeling the connection you had with your unborn child. And the looks Renee was giving you, as if you’d been knocked up in a scandalous affair or something, not only stung but rubbed you the wrong way. Leslie’s right, there’s definitely something more going on. You, however, had a mini person to take care of, and no time to investigate. You’d leave that to Shay.

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

Your new boss Sgt. Hank Voight had been surprisingly understanding and supportive. He immediately told you that you were not allowed in the field. You had a degree in computer science, so you were still able to be useful which pleased you. Working for intelligence had allowed you to connect with a childhood friend of yours, Connor Rhodes. You’d met Connor when you’d gotten a scholarship to his prep school and became surprising fast and loyal friends. Which explained why you had to hold him back when you two ran into Kelly and Renee while at lunch. Unlike Leslie, Connor had been adamant that you tell Kelly so that he could step up and be there for you. It had taken quite a while  to convince Connor to not hunt Kelly down and fight him. He may not look like it, but Connor seriously knew how to fight.

“Oh, hi Y/N!” Renee’s voice was as perky and smug as ever. “Hi Renee, Kelly. It’s really nice to see you but we should get going, have a great lunch.” You were planning to make a couple pleasantries, grab Connor, and bolt, but that all went to hell when Kelly narrowed his eyes. “What’re you doing here, Rhodes?”

“Having lunch with this lovely, incredible woman, what else would I be doing?”

“Isn’t there a surgery you need to be doing?” Kelly was quite visibly seething. “Oh, you’re a surgeon?” Renee was roaming her eyes up and down Connor’s body while biting her lip. “Yes, I am a surgeon. I had the day off, so I decided to help Y/N with buying the nursery furniture and stuff while the paint on the nursery is drying.”

“You’re the father? How did she manage to trap you?” Renee’s accusatory words were not taken well by Connor or Kelly, the latter looking at her as though she’d just kicked his puppy. “No, I am not the father, but I really wish I was.”  He’d said it in such a way that if you hadn’t known him as well as you did, you’d believe him.“

“The identity of my baby’s father really isn’t any of your concern Renee.”

“Well I was just curious-”

“You should have known that it was rude and offensive to ask the things you have and behaved the way you have. Connor, let’s go. Please.”

“Yeah, good idea Y/N-”

“If you're not the father, what’re you doing, Rhodes?”

“Stepping up since you didn’t.” The silence around the four of you was deafening. Renee looked like the cat that ate the canary, Connor looked immensely regretful, Kelly paled and looked and your now somewhat noticeable bump. His eyes met yours and you couldn’t take the look of betrayal in his eyes. You ran. Out the door, down the street, and hailed the first cab you saw.

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

It was two days later when you heard knocking on your door. You opened it and there stood Kelly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Hello to you too, Kelly.”

“Y/N.”

“You didn’t tell me that Renee came back or that she was pregnant or that you were going to be a dad, you just ghosted me.”

“Renee’s baby isn’t mine. We did a DNA test.”

“Oh, so that’s why you’re here.”

“Y/N-”

“No Kelly. You don’t get to pop in and out of my life as you please. You just dropped me, and yes, it was an understandable decision. But I had to hear about it from Leslie. You avoided me for weeks. We had a thing going, a good thing, and you decided that it wasn’t good. That what we had wasn’t enough to deserve an explanation.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough.”

“Tell me what to do to make it better. I’ll do anything.”

“Make me pancakes.”

“... What?”

“Make me pancakes. I’ve been craving them.”

“Alright, you got all the supplies?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, I’ll get to work.”

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

“Can I see the nursery after you’re done eating?”

“It’s not set up yet.” Kelly perked up and there was a nervous glow in his eyes. “Can... I set it up?” You looked at him thoughtfully, his eyes were pleading under your scrutinizing gaze. Well, if he did it, you wouldn’t have to. “Sure.”

“Yes! Thank you. Uh, if you don’t mind my asking, why hasn’t Connor done it?” He looked terrified as he asked the question. “He’s been busy with his fellowship, plus I’ve felt like enough of a burden on him.”

“You’re not a burden. You’d never be a burden.” His voice was like his gaze, soft, genuine, and loving. You smiled tenderly and decided to enjoy it while it lasts.

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

You were six months pregnant and finally in need of maternity clothes. As you walked up to Trudy and the front desk she smiled at you and gestured to the dress you were wearing. “You look great Y/N.”

“I look fat.”

“Y/N you look pregnant and you’re glowing. You look beautiful.” She smiled softly at you and you smiled back. “Thanks Trudy.”

“No problem Y/N-”

BANG BANG BANG

“EVERYONE GET ON THE GROUND AND DO AS I SAY!” A gunman had startled you and you immediately dropped to the ground when you heard the shots go off. “You. Pregnant bitch. Get up and come here. Now.” You looked at Trudy, wide-eyed, not knowing what to do. “ARE YOU DEAF?! GET UP AND COME HERE!” Your body went cold and your blood was pumping so fast it was all you could hear. You kneeled and then used the desk to pull yourself up, never taking a hand off of your enlarged and vulnerable stomach.once you got close enough to see the rage in his green eyes he grabbed your arm, whipped you around, and placed the barrel of his gun to your forehead. “I have some demands,” he spoke to the precinct, “and if I don’t get what I want, I’ll blow her brains out.” Everything went fuzzy after that, voices blurred together, you couldn’t focus on what was happening. You were panicking and couldn’t do anything to stop it.

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You woke up in a hospital bed, an IV in your arm, and heart monitors on your chest. Your throat felt like sandpaper and your cheeks felt stiff and a little sticky from tears. You felt a weight on your hand and looked to see that it was Kelly. He was awake and clinging to your hand while murmuring as tears flooded down his cheeks. “Kelly?”

“Y/N! Oh, thank god you’re awake. April!” You were swarmed by nurses and doctors checking your vitals, asking you how you’re feeling. Somewhere in the hustle and bustle Connor, Voight, and Olinsky had entered the room. “How’re you doing kid?” Voight’s rough voice was oddly comforting. “I’m okay, I just... don’t remember what happened. When he grabbed me I just panicked and everything blurred together. I just...” I started to tear up, I was an unreliable witness, I froze when my baby was in danger. “Hey Y/N, don’t cry, it’s okay. We understand completely. We just came to check on you and pancake.” You smiled at the nickname Olinsky had given your baby when he found out about your cravings. Connor wrapped his arms around you. “I was so worried when they wheeled you into ED. I’m relieved that the both of you are okay. Nat’s gonna be back in soon to go over some things you’ll need to be careful of because of this.”

“What? But you said the baby was okay! What aren’t you telling us Rhodes?!”

“Severide! Either calm down or leave. Y/N does not need anymore stress!” Kelly was seething but obeyed Voight, knowing what the man was capable of doing. “Hey, Y/N is now a good time to come in and discuss your results or should I come back?” Nat was nervously standing in the doorway, eyes flitting between Kelly and Connor. “Come on in Nat. I want to know everything and I won’t hold off on that because these two want to have a pissing contest.” Both men bashfully backed down and Nat entered the room. “Your blood pressure was extremely high when you came in.That can be incredibly dangerous, to you and the baby. So, you’ll have to go on a low-sodium diet, I’ll give you a list of light exercise you’ll need to do, but other than that you’ll be on bed rest. You’ll need to make an appointment in three weeks. As long as you’re careful, eat healthy, and avoid stress you’ll be fine.” You took a deep breath as you absorbed the news and cradled your stomach. “I’d also feel much better if I knew there was someone at home who could take care of you.”

“I can. I’ve been staying with her for the past three weeks and, as long as she’s cool with it, I’ll stay as long as needed.” Kelly looked at you, promise in his eyes. Connor huffed and said, “what about when you’re on shift?”

“Everyone at Intelligence has been worried about her, we’ll take turns keeping tabs on and spending the day with her.” Hank’s answer was definitive and stopped anymore arguing. “Thanks Sarg.”

“No problem kid.”

“Y/N,” Nat said, bringing attention back to her, “do you have any questions for me?”

“Yeah, I do have one actually. Am I allowed to have pancakes?”

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

Your appointment had come and gone very slowly. This was mostly due to the fact that Kelly was smothering and overprotective. You’d been delighted when you were taken off bedrest, even though you’d still been told to be careful. Kelly did not let up on his protectiveness. Even when you invited him to stay with you in your bed.

Things with you and Kelly had gotten even more complicated. Everyone knew he was the father, you were living together, and you’d started doing couple-y things. Going out to dinner once a week (only once you were off bedrest), being each other’s emergency contacts, moving in together, sharing a bed, intimate gestures, and preparing for the arrival of a baby together. “Hey Y/N, how was your day?” He quickly kissed your forehead before going to the kitchen to put away the groceries he’d just bought. You felt... unsure. You didn’t know what your relationship was and that concerned you. You had fallen even more in love with him and you just didn’t know what to do with that information. Kelly seemed to sense that your mood had changed from cheerful to troubled and sat next to you on the couch. “What’s wrong? And don’t tell me there’s nothing wrong, you keep staring off into space and frowning. I know that being eight- almost nine- months pregnant isn’t exactly a picnic, but I’m worried about you. Please, Y/N.”

“What are we?”

“Huh?”

“Are we dating? Co-parenting? I just... I’m in love with you, okay? It hurts, knowing that it’s possible you’re only here out of a sense of duty. That you don’t... love me back-” You were interrupted by Kelly kissing you. His hands moved to the sides of your face as he kissed you lovingly, desperately. It was like he was worried you were going to disappear on him. You parted, panting, foreheads pressed together. “I love you. So much. When Renee told me she was pregnant, I was excited to be a dad, but I was sad that it wouldn’t be with you. That’s why I didn’t tell you, I couldn’t face you. I wanted you to be the pregnant one, not her. It hurt, to wake up with her and not you, to go to doctor’s appointments with her instead of you. And when April told me you’d been taken to the hospital after being taken hostage and that you were unresponsive? I collapsed. I answered the phone and my knees just buckled Casey and Cruz caught me and drove me to the hospital. You are without a doubt, one of the most important people in my life. The others being Leslie and pancake. I can’t pinpoint when I fell in love with you, but I fell hard, and I couldn’t be happier. I want a relationship and future with you. I know that might be a little fast, but I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me. I’ll work as hard as possible to earn it. We can go slow, fast, or just go with the flow, but I love you, I love pancake, and I want to get married one day and have more kids.” 

“I love you so much Kelly, I want to work for that future, too.” Kelly let out a laugh and the bubble of anxiety within you disappeared. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down for a long, loving, smiling kiss that was filled to the brim with promises for the future.

[tiny-opal-essence]

Pocket Paladin Chpt 6

Ground Rules

“…And that’s all we know so far.” Lance finished explaining from his position standing on the console.

“This is indeed troubling,” Kolivan said on the screen.  “I have not heard of any similar spells being used, but I will send word to our spies within the empire in case they come across anything.”

“Is there anything you could tell us about Lotor’s magic?  Are there any differences due to him being only half druid?” Allura inquired.

“His spells tend to be more volatile.  He seems to be the only one who can fully reverse them without there being any side effects.”

“Side effects like what?” Shiro asked from right behind Lance.

“You should hope to never find out.”

Lance could tell even without looking back to his right that Hunk was feeling sick to his stomach at the thought.

“You said he ‘seems to be’ the only one who can reverse his spells.” Pidge pointed out.

“We do theorize that someone with as strong if not stronger magic would be able to reverse them, but they would need absolute control of the quintessence involved.  It fluctuates greatly in Lotor’s spells.  Channeling the wrong amount at the wrong time would have dire consequences.”

“So, that means that Allura can fix me!” Lance exclaimed.

“In theory.  I’m still working on control in general, let alone when what I’m working with fluctuates.”  Allura stated from the left.

“But you can do it, right?”  Hunk asked hopefully.

“Given enough time to prepare, yes.”

“Is there any news you have for us, Kolivan?” Keith asked.

“Not at this moment,” Kolivan answered before there was a commotion on his side of the screen.  Suddenly, Slav appeared.  Shiro grit his teeth and clenched his prosthetic fist.

“Ahh, Kolivan.  I am so glad I found you.  There were 11 realities in which you had suddenly collapsed and in 3 of those you never recovered!”

“Slav.  As you can see, I am fine.  I am also in the middle of a private conference with the Voltron Paladins.”  Kolivan gestured to the screen while Slav’s gaze followed.

“Oh no!  This means we are in one of the 9,536,965,579 realities where this happens to Lance!  And he’s already dead in 16 of them!”

Dead?!

Shiro slammed the console with his prosthetic fist while gesturing with the other hand.  “Look.”  Anger dripped from his voice.  “None of this is helping.  We don’t need to know what happens to Lance in any other realities.  So go count the cracks in the ceiling or whatever it takes to know what’s happening in this reality.”

“…Now it’s 36 realities.”

Team Voltron wondered how the number could have changed so drastically in the span of just a few seconds.  They all looked down and let out a gasp when they saw that Lance was standing less than an inch away from where Shiro had blindly slammed the console.  Lance could see his terrified expression reflected in the metal before Shiro quickly moved his prosthetic away.

“Oh my God!”  Shiro backed away from the console.  

Everyone realized in that moment what must have happened in the alternate realities.

Lance felt frozen.  He could hear his heart beating faster while his breathing grew shakier.  It took all of his strength to stay standing on his trembling legs.

“Lance!  Are you alright?” Coran asked as Lance’s legs finally gave out under him, answering the question.

Lance let himself collapse.  He felt like he couldn’t breathe.  

Almost dying does that to a person, I guess.  Ha ha.  Especially when it isn’t the first time.  

He heard Kolivan say something before the video feed was cut off.  The stares from the rest of the team weren’t helping him calm down.  He realized that none of them were approaching him, and for that he was thankful.  He already felt overwhelmed enough.

The space mice ran over from their end of the console to Lance and grabbed him in a group hug, hiding him from the others while he pulled himself together.  This time, no one commented on how cute they looked.  Lance was able to brush away tears that he hadn’t realized were falling down his face.  He hoped he was small enough that the others didn’t notice.

“Thank you.”  He whispered so only the space mice heard him.  Keith also heard him, but Lance wasn’t aware of that.

“Lance, I…” Shiro was staring at his prosthetic in horror before he looked over to Lance.  “I-I’m so sorry.  I forgot you were there.”

'Look at how easily overlooked you are now.’

Not the time.

If not now, when?  It’s only a matter of time until they realize how useless you are, especially like this.’

“It’s okay,”  Lance said timidly as the space mice ended the hug and stood two on each side of him.

“No, it’s not,” Shiro said decisively.  “I almost…This just proves what Kolivan said.  We need to establish some ground rules given your current situation.”

“I can type them up, just need to plug in my laptop before it dies.” Pidge started looking for an outlet.

“Good idea,”  Allura commented.

“Who wants to go first?” Pidge sat down with her hands hovering over her laptop’s keyboard.

“I will.”  Keith volunteered.  “Someone should be with Lance at all times.”

“Come on.  I don’t need a babysitter.”

“It would help us avoid any potential accidents if we have someone keeping a constant eye on you.” Pidge pointed out as she typed up the first rule.

“It would probably be a good idea if Lance doesn’t walk around on the floor.  I don’t even want to think about what could happen.” Shiro recommended.

No one noticed Lance and Keith wince as they recalled what had almost happened earlier that morning.          

“Going off of that, you shouldn’t try to get around too much on your own,”  Pidge spoke as she typed.  “Ask for help when you need it.”

But I want to prove I can do this.

‘And just how do you plan to do that?  You can’t even pilot your lion.’

“We need to ensure that only our closest and most trusted allies know about this,” Coran stated.  “If word gets out, Lance would become a target for more than just the Galra.  I’ve seen some horrible things for sale on swap moons.  If he wound up in one of them, there’s very little chance we would see him again.”

Lance *gulped* in fear.

“Lance should stay on the castleship while we’re on missions.”  Allura asserted.  “That will help keep him off their radar.”

“Wait, I don’t get to go on missions?”

“It’s too great a risk with your current circumstances.”

“But I want to help!”

“You can still help me and the space mice,” Coran suggested.

“But…”

“No buts!” Shiro gestured with his hand, causing Lance to flinch.  His heart sank seeing the expression on Lance’s face.  “I’m sorry, but as Allura said, it’s too great a risk.”

“What if Lance only came on low-risk missions, like if we’re just going to go talk with a planet that isn’t part of the Galra empire?”  Hunk proposed.

“Or if we’re just doing recon or getting supplies,” Keith added.  “If he stays out of sight, it should be fine.”

“There is still an amount of risk then.  What do you think, Allura?”  Shiro asked.

“As long as he stays out of sight and keeps his comms online at all times, I think it would be ok.  Just for low-risk missions.”

Yes!  Thank you Hunk and Keith!

“I’ll just put no risky missions on the list.” Pidge typed in the next entry.

“Or unnecessary risks in general!”  Hunk added on.

“When have I ever taken unnecessary risks?”

“Lance.  We’ve been friends since kindergarten.  I know you.  You always take unnecessary risks.”

“Well, they were necessary in my opinion.”

“Ok, so far we have someone has to be with Lance at all times, Lance can’t be on the ground, Lance can’t get around on his own, only our closest allies can know about this, no risky missions, and no unnecessary risks in general.” Pidge read the list out loud.

Wow.  That makes it sound like I can’t do anything.

‘But isn’t that the truth?’

“Any other suggestions?  Lance?” Coran asked.

He thought for a moment.

“Just…Don’t grab me.  It’s kind of terrifying.  If you have to suddenly hide me from someone, then it’s ok, but only then.”

“Ok.  No grabbing.” Pidge added.  “Anyone else?”

Everyone was silent.

“This is a good start.  If anyone comes up with any other suggestions, let me know and I’ll add them.”

“If someone has to always be with Lance, where is he going to sleep?”  Hunk asked.

“Can’t I just sleep in my room as usual?

“But what if you need something in the middle of the night?  The doors probably won’t open for you and we just established that you aren’t supposed to walk around on the floor.  If you were out in the hallway in the middle of the night and someone else was awake too, they might not think to look down!”  Hunk exclaimed.

“That’s a good point, Hunk,” Allura commented.  “Who should he room with?”

“I’ll just room with Hunk, like at the Garrison.”

“That would be nice, but I snore.  You know how loud my alarm had to be for me to wake up.  What if you were in trouble and I didn’t hear it?”

“Okay, so Lance can’t room with Hunk.  And we’re not going to do any co-ed, so that rules out Pidge and Allura.”  Shiro thought out loud.

“I’m up at different vargas to make sure the castle stays ship shape, so that would wake you up, Lance,”  Coran commented.

“What about you, Shiro?” Allura asked.

“We just learned this morning that I have night terrors.  That would also disturb Lance’s sleep, so that leaves Keith.”

“Really?  This guy?”  Lance gestured with his thumb towards Keith.

“That actually would work,”  Pidge stated.  “Keith does have heightened hearing due to his ears, so if Lance needed something, he could be heard easier.”

“Makes sense.” Keith agreed with a shrug.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Lance exclaimed.

“Lance, this is the best option.” Allura declared.

“We just want to make sure you’re safe.” Hunk said.

“I know,” Lance responded with a sigh.  “I guess it’s not the end of the world if I have to room with mullet.”

“Do you have to use that nickname?”

“Yep.”

“What now?” Pidge asked.

“I had a training session planned, but we can move that to tomorrow due to recent developments,” Allura responded.

“Free day, woohoo!” Lance pumped his fist in the air.

“I’m going to see if there’s anything more I can find in the library,” Coran stated.

“I’ll help you look,” Allura said.

“I’m going to go finish up in the kitchen.” Hunk started to turn towards the door.

“Can I help?” Lance asked.

“I wouldn’t say no to the company.” Hunk put his hand palm up next to Lance.

“I’ve got a few projects on the workbench I want to get done.  Let me know when the food’s ready.”

“Will do, Pidge.  The comms are back online now, right Coran?”

“Right-o, number 2.  I’ll see about upgrading the castle-wide comms later tonight.”

“I might go do some training today, just to see where I’m at,” Shiro said.

“I’ll go with you to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. You’re still recovering.”

“Keith being the one to stop someone from pushing themselves too far?  Now I’ve seen everything.” Lance commented from Hunk’s hands with a smile.

That got a chuckle from the rest of the team before they went their separate ways

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

“Yes!  We’re in!” Ezor exclaimed upon seeing that the virus had been successfully uploaded to the castle ship.

“Well done, Narti.” Axha praised.

Kova *purred* and rubbed his face against Narti’s.  She reached up and scratched behind his ears.

“Let’s go grab him now.” Zethrid’s eagerness shown in her words.

“Not yet,” Lotor said.

“Why not?  Isn’t this what we’ve been waiting for?” Zethrid asked.

“Yes, but right now his team will be hovering around him.  Eventually, they will let their guard down.  That is when we strike.” Lotor recommended.

“More waiting?  Uggh.” Ezor complained.

“Now that we have eyes and ears on their ship, we will be ready when the moment comes,” Axha stated.

Natri typed on her keyboard and brought a document on the screen for everyone to see.

“Well, would you look at that.  They provided us with a list of rules they’re going to follow.  And they were so kind as to include where he’s going to be sleeping.”  Lotor said with a cruel smile.

“And it looks like he’s going to be going on some missions with them still.”  Ezor pointed out.

“We’ll give them a reason to change their minds on that,” Zethrid stated.

“Let’s give them a false sense of security first.  That way, the inevitable change to the rules cuts that much deeper.” Lotor recommended.

Narti brought up some of the camera feeds from the Castle Ship and they began to study their opponents in their own home.

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“How much longer is this going to take?” Lance asked from his position laying on the counter with his right arm over his face in dramatic fashion.

“The beans just have to simmer for a few more minutes.” Hunk checked the water level to make sure the beans were still covered.

“Didn’t you already do that?  You soak them overnight, then you boil them and let them stand for a few minutes, strain them, and then do the same thing, but for an hour?  Doesn’t that seem redundant?”

“This part is different.  The beans have to simmer for a while so they can soften.”

“Then why even do the first boil and let rest?  Wouldn’t it just be easier to go right to simmering?”

“It’s just the way it works.  I have a feeling you have something else on your mind besides the beans.”

“Yeah…This whole me being shrunk thing is…a lot to get used to.”

“Well, hopefully, you won’t have to get too used to it.  Allura’s going to find a way to undo this.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know how long that will take.  How am I supposed to fly one of the lions like this?”

“Well…I think the answer is that Allura’s going to be subbing for you for a bit longer.”  Hunk said apologetically.

“I know.  It’s just…I was looking forward to being in Blue again.  Nothing against Red, she’s also pretty great, but Blue is my girl.  It’s kind of sinking in that I’m not a paladin anymore.”

“No one is saying you aren’t a paladin anymore.  You’re just as much a paladin now as you were before.  Shiro didn’t stop being a paladin when the Galra captured him, right?”

“Yeah.”  

But he’s Shiro.  He’s always been amazing, even before he became the black paladin.  If he wasn’t a paladin anymore, no one would think less of him.

‘I wonder what they think of you, now that you’re like this.’

“Exactly.  Here.”  Hunk took a spoonful of the beans and handed one to Lance between his fingers.  “Squeeze this and see if they’re done.”

Lance grabbed the bean with both hands and started pressing them together.  After a little resistance, the bean smushed.  He looked up and saw that Hunk was doing the same test.  The bean gave no resistance between his fingertips.

He squashed that like a grape!

‘I wonder what else he could squish.’

“Looks like they’re ready.”

“You’re not going to have them simmer for another hour, are you?”

“No, they’re done simmering.” Hunk turned up the heat and stirred in the tianal.  “Hopefully this will give it the right consistency.”

“So, this becomes sweet because you add a lot of sugar to it?”

“And a pinch of salt, or in this case, rintal.”

“Why do sweet recipes always have a pinch of salt?  It just seems to go against the sweetness of the food.”

“There’s actually a good reason for that.”  Hunk continued to stir.  “The salt boosts the other flavors.  It also helps strengthen some of the chemical bonds in the glucose.”

“So it tastes sweeter because you add some salt to it?”

“Exactly.  Do you want to add the rintal?”

“Sure.”

“Just grab a handful of it.  That should be about the same as a pinch.”

“How do you figure that?” Lance asked as he scooped up the rintal in his hands.

“Platt comes by to help sometimes and you’re pretty close to him in height, so it should be close to the same amount as when he does it.”

Lance was amazed at how large the crystals of rintal seemed in his hands.  He could feel how coarse they were as he stepped onto Hunk’s palm.  He managed to keep his balance as Hunk lifted him up to the edge of the pot.  Hunk placed his other hand at the edge of his palm to act as a safety barrier.

“Really, Hunk?  I’m not that clumsy.”

“I know, it’s just that one time Platt almost fell in and I don’t want that to happen to you.  Better safe than sorry.”

“Alright, I get it.” Lance dumped the rintal he was holding into the pot.

Hunk brought him back down to the counter, turned off the heat and continued to stir the beans.  He then grabbed a metal pan from one of the cupboards and set it on the counter.  He grabbed the pot and used the spoon to scoop its contents into the pan.

“Now we have to wait for this to cool.”

“How long is that going to take?”

“Maybe 10-15 dobashes, or around 17 minutes.  The batter in the fridge should be done by then.”

“Why does it have to be in there for so long?”

“It helps the ingredients mix together better, that way the batter is smooth.”

“Cool.  So what do we do while we wait?”

“We can go see if Pidge needs any help on the workbench.  Many hands make light work, right?”

“Yeah.”  

Even if said hands are smaller than a bean.

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“Did you have to literally come out of the closet?  Again?”  Keith asked as he threw a punch at Shiro.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.  The closet just happened to be the closest place to hide.” Shiro’s smile gave him away as he dodged.

“This from the guy who said he would be not only the best man, but also the best ‘pan’ in my wedding?”

“The offer still stands.” Shiro aimed at Keith who quickly blocked.

“That’s not going to happen for a while.”

“Well, when it does happen, I want to be there for you and your husband on your big day.”

Shiro couldn’t help recalling what had happened between him and Adam before the Kerberos mission.  They had been heading towards marriage themselves, but sometimes things just don’t work out.  He had hoped that once he got back from Kerberos they could talk about where they stood, but some purple aliens had thrown a wrench in that plan.  He quickly focused back on training.

“I can tell you’re going easy on me, Keith.”  Shiro blocked the punch that was thrown his way.

“I’m not.”

Shiro gave him an ‘are you serious’ look.

“Ok, I am.  But you’re still recovering.  I don’t want you to have to go in the healing pod again.”

“I know my limits.  I also know you.  You have something on your mind.”

“I’m just really glad you’re back.”

“I’m glad to be back, but I know it’s more than that.  We’ve known each other for how long?”

“Almost 7 years,” Keith answered.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know…I’m just worried about Lance.  I’m not sure how I feel about him rooming with me.”

“We all agreed that him rooming with you makes the most sense.”

“I think he hates me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He called me an idiot before he passed out on the mission.  I cradled him in my arms, he mumbled something and then said ‘you’re idiot’ with a smile on his face.  Who even does that?!”

“Well, you’ve called him an idiot before.”

“That’s different.” Keith blocked Shiro’s punch.  “He actually is one.”

“Is that what you really think?”

“No.  I don’t know.  All I know is I can't get him out of my head and every time I look at him, I have these pains in my chest and I just know it's his fault.”

Shiro dodged Keith as he realized what Keith was feeling.  He had a crush and didn’t even realize it.  Shiro had learned through the years that there were certain times to fully explain something to Keith and other times to be more subtle.  This was in the latter category.  If Shiro told him what the pains in his chest meant, he would resist the notion and go out of his way to avoid Lance.

“Well, maybe this will be an opportunity for the two of you to build some bridges.”

“Maybe.”

Their train of thought was cut off by Hunk over the comms

“Food’s ready!”

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

“Hey, Rachel.”

“Not even close, Hunk,” Pidge said from behind her welding mask.

Lance tried to ignore how intimidating Pidge looked with the sparks flying from the welder.

She looks like a mad scientist, kind of.

“Come on, you have to give me a hint to what your real name is.”

“But this is much more fun!” She lifted up the mask to show the mischievous grin on her face.

“But I only get 5 guesses each day!  And I have less than a week to get it right!”

“Really?  What are you, Pidge, Rumpelstiltskin?” Lance asked.

“If I was, would that make you Thumbelina?”

“Hey, if anything, I would be Tom Thumb.”

“If I was Rumpelstiltskin, I would have dibs on Hunk and Shay’s first child.”

“I told you, she’s just a rock that I met and admire very much.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Hunk.  Anyways, what brings you two here?”

“The filling for the food has to cool for a bit.  We were wondering if you needed any help.” Lance asked

“I’ve got pretty much everything handled, but I do have a few questions for you, Lance, if you don’t mind.”

“No problem,”  Lance said as he climbed off of Hunk’s hand and onto the workbench.

“Good.”

Okay, I’m not imagining that, right?  Her glasses just did the anime light glare thing.

“How tall are you normally?”

“About 5’ 9’’.”

“How much is about?  I need to know the exact height.”

“Ok, I’m 5’ 8 ¾”, happy?”

“Peachy.  And how much do you weight?”

“Pidge, you can’t just ask someone how much they weight!”

“I’m just trying to see if there’s some sort of pattern with what happened to you.”

“I’m not telling you that!”

Hunk bent down and whispered something in Pidge’s ear.

“That much?  Ok.”

Hunk, how could you?  I didn’t think you would go behind my back, or I guess over my head.

“Traitor.” Lance glared slightly up at Hunk, but there was no venom in it.

“Sorry, but she’s just trying to help.” He sheepishly responded.

“Now let’s see how you measure up.”  Pidge snickered at her own pun as she reached for the ruler on the workbench.

“I thought we already said that I’m 3” tall now.”

“That was a guestimate.  I need the exact numbers if I want to be able to help you.”  She held up the ruler on its end.  “Make sure you stand up straight, or as straight as you can pretend to be.”

“Ha ha, very funny, gremlin.” Land sarcastically responded as he stood in front of the ruler.

“Looks like you’re…3 1/8” tall, making it a 1:22 ratio.  That means that your armor was affected the same amount.”

“My armor?”

“Yeah.  After we all left the bridge, I went looking for where we put it and your bayard to see if there were any changes in them.  Your armor shrunk by the same ratio as you did.  Your bayard, however, was still normal size.”

“That makes sense.  I dropped it before the spell hit me.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, right?”  Hunk questioned.  “This means that Keith will have a bayard to use in Red.”

“I guess that’s the silver lining of this scenario,”  Pidge responded.

“But that means I don’t have a weapon.”

“You’re not going to need one.  We’ll be here to protect you and make sure nothing happens to you.”  Hunk assured.

“Let’s see how your weight was affected.”  Pidge pulled what looked like a postal scale from the back of the workbench and zeroed the weight on it.  She put her hand down in front of Lance.  She lifted him up and he stepped off onto the scale.  It beeped a few times before settling on what he weighed.

“Interesting,”  Pidge commented.

“What’s interesting?” Lance asked worriedly.

“Your weight is more than what it should be given the square-cube law.  It should be 1/484 your normal weight, but it’s more than that.  This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well it was magic that did this to me, so I think ‘making sense’ went out the window.”

“But you should weigh so little that a slight breeze would blow you away.”

“I think we can all be glad that isn’t the case.” Hunk said.

“It just bugs me how this is making no logical sense.  If it was logical I could build something to help.”

“If anyone can build a growth ray, it’s you Pidge.  You’re like the smartest person in the universe.”  Lance encouraged.

“And what am I, chopped liver?” Hunk said with a joking tone.

“Alright, Hunk is the smartest guy and Pidge is the smartest girl in the universe.”

“I’ll agree there,” Pidge commented.

“I’m going to head back to the kitchen.  The Tsubuan should be almost done cooling.  Do you want to come with or stay here, Lance?”

“I think I’ll stay.  I’d probably end up burning myself trying to sneak a bite before the food cools.”

“Or worse, you might almost wind up a part of it, like in Thumbelina.” Pidge laughed lightly.

“Don’t even joke about that!  I barely made it past that part of the movie!”  Hunk exclaimed.

“Sorry, I see that joke was in bad taste,” Pidge said as Hunk left.

Is that supposed to be a pun?  Cause it’s not appreciated.  Or funny.

Lance thought back on when Veronica made him watch Thumbelina with her.  He did remember the scene Pidge was referring to, but not much else.  There were some frogs, bugs, mice, and fairies that were all interested in Thumbelina for some reason.  He hadn’t paid much attention, but he liked spending time with his sister.  She was the one that taught him about skin care, after all.

Maybe if I had paid attention to the movie, I could have gotten some advice on what to do in this situation.

‘Do you actually think a cartoon would be able to offer you any advice?’

Hey, Dora la Exploradora taught me English, so hell yeah a cartoon can help!

He refocused on what was happening around him.

Pidge was mumbling to herself about the results and how crazy they were.  Lance walked over and sat on the edge of the scale.

This is probably a good out of the way place to sit.

“Medically speaking, you still feel ok, right?” Pidge’s stare was intense.

“I guess so.  I feel a little cold, but that’s not that big a deal.”

“It could mean that your body is losing heat faster than normal.  Smaller creatures do struggle to retain their body heat more than larger ones.”

“But why would a smaller creature lose it faster?”

“It’s because of the ratio between the surface area and volume of the animal.”

“That still doesn’t make sense.  A larger animal has more surface area, so shouldn’t they lose their heat faster?”

“But the ratio to their volume is smaller.  The larger animal is able to create more heat due to its volume.  Does that make sense?”

“I guess.”  

Nope.  Still don’t get it, but I’m not about to let her know that.  

“What are you working on there, anyway?” Lance changed the subject.

“Just a few projects I’ve been meaning to get to.”

“But what are they?”

“I don’t think you’d understand if I tried to explain.”

“Oh.”  

How would she know?

‘Well, would you understand?’

Probably not, but it’d be nice to know she doesn’t think I’m a complete idiot.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I think the welder is a bit big for you to use, so no.  Oh!”  Pidge reached over where he was sitting and grabbed something from the back wall of the workbench.  “Put this on.”  She handed the item to him and he saw it was a mini welding mask.

“When did you have time to make this?”

“Two pheobs ago.  Chuchule likes to help, so me and Hunk made that for her.  Safety first and all that.  Does it fit?”

“Yeah.” Lance pulled the mask down.

“Good.” Pidge did the same and got back to welding.

He watched her work in silence.  The only sound was the slight noise of the welder against the metal.  From Lance’s new perspective, the sparks flying off of the workbench seemed like fireworks.

He didn’t realize how long he was sitting there when he heard the *crackle* of the comms overhead.

“Food’s ready!”

Pidge turned off the welder and placed her mask on the workbench.  Lance handed his mask over to her.

“Something this small could get lost easily,” Pidge commented as she put it back where it belonged.

I could get lost easily.

“This is probably the most organized space I have.”

“I think the random piles of wires and tools would disagree with you, Pidge.”

“I said most organized, not that it actually was organized.”

“Touché.”

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

“You made taiyaki?  It’s been so long since I’ve had it.” Shiro said.

“What’s taiyaki?” Allura looked at the food in question.

“It’s a pretty popular street food back home.  It's something between a pancake and waffle texture with a sweet bean filling.  And you even got it in the fish shape.  Where did you find a mold for it out here?”

“I actually made it in the forge.”

“There’s a forge in the castle-ship?”

“Of course there’s a forge.  What kind of self-respecting castle doesn’t have a forge?” Coran stated.

“It took a few tries to get the mold to come out right.  It’s not as detailed as I would like it to be, but I think it works.”

“Hunk, this is more than enough.  Thank you.”  Shiro took a bite out of one of the taiyaki.  “This is the best food I’ve had in phoebs!”

“I’m glad you like it.  I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make the ones for you and the space mice fish shaped, Lance.”

“No worries, big guy.  They’ll still taste good.”

Everyone grabbed some of the taiyaki and started enjoying them.  The sound of them all eating made Lance feel uncomfortable for some reason.  When Shiro’s stomach suddenly groaned, Lance felt afraid.  His mind jumped to Juan y los Frijoles Mágicos and what the giant had wanted to do to Juan.

That’s why the sound is freaking me out a bit.

“Something’s not agreeing with me.” Shiro clutched at his stomach.

“Oh no!  Did I not cook them enough?  I swore they were the right temperature!  Did the ingredients not work together?” Hunk panicked.

“No, they were cooked right and tasted fine.  I don’t know why this is happening.”  Shiro groaned out.

“What did they feed you while you were a prisoner?” Keith asked.

“I don’t know what it was.  Some sort of gruel.”

“Then that means this is the first solid food you’ve had in three phoebs.  No wonder your body’s reacting like this.” Pidge stated.  “Going from only liquid to solid food so quick has an adverse effect on your body.  It isn’t used to solid food, so it rejects it.”

“I didn’t even think of that when I was making it.  I’m sorry, Shiro”

“It’s not your fault, Hunk,” Shiro responded.

“I’m going to put together a meal plan to get your body used to solid food again.  Then I’ll make more taiyaki for you.” Hunk offered.

“You don’t have to do that.  I’ll get used to it in time.”

“We don’t want our black paladin falling in the field because of an upset stomach,” Coran commented.

“Please, none of us wish to see you like this, Shiro.”  Allura gently placed a hand on his shoulder.  He put his hand over hers and lightly squeezed it.

“Alright, just don’t work too hard on it.  We don’t want our yellow paladin down for the count either.” Shiro smiled slightly at Hunk.

The others continued to enjoy the food and talk more while Shiro was looking at his hand with a puzzled look on his face.

“Earth to space-dad, are you ok?” Lance moved closer to where Shiro was sitting at the table.  Shiro moved his hands away from Lance, not wanting to risk another incident.

“I’m fine.  Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Just…how nice it is to be back with all of you.”

“Well, we’re all glad we found you.” Lance was then pulled into a conversation with Hunk while Shiro went back to staring at his hand.

When Shiro had touched Allura’s hand, the usual spark wasn’t there.  He remembered how much he cared about her.  He loved her.  But now, there was nothing.  He didn’t feel that way about her, even though he believed he was still in love with her.  How was that possible, to know that you are in love with someone and yet feel nothing beyond friendship with them?  Could this be a part of project K____?  To mess with someone’s mind and heart?  If he could just remember the name of the project, maybe that would give a clue as to what the Galra had planned to do with him.  Perhaps he could suggest doing some mind-melding exercises in the next training session.  That could help get his thoughts and feelings back together.  Maybe even help him remember more of the name.

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Number of realities without a Lance: 42

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[y-not-loki]

The Royal Ass(hole) | Loki L.

A/N: So this is really horrible (because I refuse to say the swear word equivalent of poopy, even though this one-shot swears... a lot). I’m so sorry this took so long to finish, and it’s of poor quality as well. Anyway, this is for @hollandroos‘s 15k writing challenge (CONGRATULATIONS, YOU AMAZING HUMAN). Another thing that may add to the fact that this is late, is because I had to retype everything word for word from my Word document simply because my MacBook Air doesn’t want to co-operate with me the same way that my other laptop did.

Warnings: A LOT OF SWEARING (or a lot by my standards). That’s about it, let me know if more warnings need to be added.

Word Count: 3 200

Blurb: (Y/N) is one of Fury’s most trusted advisors and probably one of the most powerful mutants in existence. (Y/N) was also somehow tricked into babysitting Loki for his (hopefully) brief banishment to Midgard by Fury. Somehow Fury managed to save up the 50 favours required for something as drastic as this, and (Y/N) is quite pissed that she had managed to get herself manipulated into this situation. Loki helps her plan revenge. Maybe Loki isn’t as much of a royal asshole, but he does have a nice royal ass.

Prompt: “I thought royals were supposed to be... you know, nice?”

*DISCLAIMER: I DON’T OWN ANYTHING IN THIS BUT THE PLOT* 

“Sorry, Agent 21, you have to follow direct orders from the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.” Fury gave (Y/N) a smirk, and she just scowled. “That and, as we agreed, I have saved up the 50 favours needed for something so important.”

“When I said that 50 favours were needed for something as important as babysitting a supervillain, I didn’t think you would take it seriously.” She grumbled and crossed her arms across her chest.

That didn’t help. Her wrist was now in sight and she could see the words etched into her skin. Everyone had one. Sometimes two or three. Hers was just the weirdest. It read: So this is the mortal that I am to be chained to? So she was assuming that her soulmate wasn’t of this world, and that she wouldn’t encounter him, her, or them any time soon. She didn’t need distractions.

“Just do it. It’ll give you a break.”

“A BREAK?! FROM DOING WHAT I ACTUALLY LIKE?!” She yelled, before taking a deep breath and then letting her arms drop to her sides.

“YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT THIS ISN’T AN ORDER COMING FROM YOUR FRIEND, BUT FROM YOUR DIRECTOR. THIS IS FOR THE GREATER GOOD.” Fury yelled back, he didn’t often yell, preferring to scare others with quiet and deadpan expressions, but (Y/N) and Fury had known each other for quite a while, they knew each other from before time when neither of them had even heard of Carol Danvers. Whilst Fury looked like he had grown, eyepatch and everything, (Y/N) still looked like a 16-year-old or 17-year-old, even if she was only ten or so years younger than Director Fury.

“Greater good my ass.” (Y/N) muttered, putting her hands in the pockets of the sleeveless hoodie she wore over her ‘super-suit’ as Stark liked to call it. He had designed it specifically so that it would contain her abilities if she ever got out of control, and she wore it as often as she could in case she did go out of control. It had happened once, and she was never allowing it to happen again, but you could never be too careful.

“What was that?” Fury asked in a menacing, yet quiet, manner, and (Y/N) glanced over to him. He had amusement in his eye, but his facial expressions were set in stone, mouth in (somehow) a completely straight line, and his eyebrows furrowed with exasperation. One thing that caught her eyes, was the fact that his one, visible eye was bloodshot.

“I said, I’ll be next door, send the idiot who pissed you off over when they’re ready.”

“I’m almost certain that that wasn’t what you said.”

“Too bad you don’t have super-hearing”

“Too bad.” Fury chuckled as (Y/N) slammed the door behind her and sunk into one of the plain grey couches in the almost empty room.

It was one of the briefing rooms, especially made for top operatives where they met Fury for their special missions.

It had two identical grey couches, no vents or windows, only walls and the one door which was locked from the outside. There was a metal block between the two couches, and in the centre was a projector to project the mission and reports of any victims, targets, potential suspects and whatnot.

It wasn’t very high tech for the reason that they may have to host a supervillain and this was where the superhero met their arch nemesis and things exploded.

She didn’t buy into that bullshit. She fought and survived, only fought and survived. Whilst Nick Fury Jr. may have saved her life, he also doomed it the same day. Sure, she enjoyed working in the field and finding challenges to defeat and obstacles to work around, always keeping her body fit and mind sharp, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t harrowing.

She traced the words written in a neat cursive around her wrist like a bracelet. Everyone had one. She knew, because the first time she met Fury, he had scars around his wrist. I don’t need a soulmate. They’re a liability. He had said. Now look at him. He made friends, he had a mismatched family, he had more liabilities than (Y/N) had kills.

And she had been killing for a long time.

The door creaked open, and there could be bickering heard on the other side before a tall, pale man was shoved into the room, his long hair reaching his shoulders and he huffed, chains were connecting his waist, wrists and ankles, making every movement sound like a thunderclap to (Y/N)’s sensitive, enhanced ears. She was born with something like the Super Soldier Serum, but a hundred times stronger, although she didn’t have the strength aspect, only the speed and enhanced senses. There was one last thing that she could do, and that was what she was known for. Manipulation of living matter.

The mighty Thor strode in, as if he owned the place, but (Y/N) guessed that’s what he’d be used to after being a prince for his entire life, and now a king.

“Lady (Y/N), it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Director Fury talks very highly of you.” Thor bowed as (Y/N) stood up, and as (Y/N) drew closer, he snatched her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles.

(Y/N) grimaced, not bothering to hide her discomfort. “Please do not touch me without warning, lest you find yourself dismembered. And whatever Fury told you about me may be due to the fact that I am his best weapon.” She told him emotionlessly, before turning to the other prince. He had a look of disgust and indifference.

“So this is the mortal that I am to be chained to?” He sneered, and (Y/N) could feel the blood leave her face. Quick, think of a smart response. This is the person you have to be chained to for the rest of your life. (Y/N)’s mind raced and she panicked.

“I thought royals were supposed to be... you know, nice?” She responded with as much bravado as she could muster, rolling her eyes to add to the effect. “You are Loki, Prince of Asgard, trickster, silver-tongue, Rightful King of Jotunheim, and a royal pain in the ass. I know. But to make both of our lives easy for the next few months or so, please keep your trap shut.”

It was Loki’s turn to look shocked, and he awkwardly rubbed at his neck. That was when (Y/N) spied a messy scrawl around his neck, almost as if it acted like a necklace. Thor had a similar one, albeit slightly messier.

Thor gave his brother a knowing smirk before nodding at the two of them. “I shall take my leave now. Good like, Lady (Y/N), I know how had it can be to control my brother. Until we meed again, brother.” And he was out the door before (Y/N) could send him a message to stay.

She was so utterly screwed. And not in the good way.

“So....” Loki prompted, and (Y/N) glared at him, taking in his facial features and committing them to memory. Her memory was absolutely perfect, enhanced as well, she remembered every single thing and every single detail. And hated it. Fury didn’t know about that detail, but he had his assumptions. “You’re my soulmate.” Silver-tongue? Don’t know them. Loki cursed himself, he was meant to be smooth.

“And you’re mine.” (Y/N) said simply, and gestured to the couches. “Take a seat, Loki, and we will talk over rules and laws that you must follow.”

Loki gave a big sigh, almost melodramatic. “If we must.”

“We must.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and took a seat on one of the couches, watching him carefully, memorising every part of him. The way he moved. Which side he favoured. The way he carried himself. His face. His eyes. His lips- NO. NO. NO. JUST NO. NOT NOW. BUSINESS MODE ACTIVATE. Loki looked amused, apparently having caught (Y/N) in the act, and she blushed, before tapping the metal box twice, and the hologram sprung to life.

She still watched him through the holograms, she controlled both sides, and there were two screens, one facing Loki, and the other facing her, as Loki had taken a seat on the opposite sofa.

She knew he was watching her openly, a cheeky smirk on his perfect lips. His scent filled her nostrils, and she tried desperately not to just inhale excessively. Mint and sweets, with a tinge of snow or rain.

She pulled up his documents. “This is what we have on you.” She said calmly, and he raised an eyebrow, pulling his eyes from her and to the documents that currently hovered in front of him. He flipped through the, not seeming to care at all as (Y/N) watched carefully.

“Most of it is correct. But I did not lead the army to Midgard, Thanos did. Under his direction, I was to take over Midgard. And then when I started to rebel against his control, he....” Loki trailed off and his face closed up, not only in the emotional sense, but also, his eyes closed, his mouth closed and he seemed to be in pain. (Y/N) analysed his movements, the small things. He wasn’t lying, she had been trained to find out if someone is lying, and she didn’t detect a single lie. But he was the God of Lies. Silver-tongue. Remember that.

There was a change and he opened his eyes again, they weren’t the cold blue they were originally, when he had first stepped into the room, but rather, they were tinged with green, around the iris and flecked with gold around the edge. But they were weary, and he seemed to age ten years in ten seconds, bags under his eyes that (Y/N) hadn’t noticed appeared, and his eyes were more bloodshot as if he had been crying earlier.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I’m not going to press on that subject.” (Y/N) said stoically, reading him perfectly. He was prideful, of course he wouldn’t want to talk about how he was feeling and how he had been controlled and manipulated to do something.

Loki remained silent and picked at his left hand. (Y/N) noted that he 1) felt uncomfortable, and 2) was rather nervous, so picking at his left hand could indicate that he was fidgeting and wanted to be somewhere else.

(Y/N) watched him carefully, and he nodded stiffly, glancing up.

“You’re prideful and don’t care for outwardly showing emotion because it means weakness.” (Y/N) came to a conclusion, and he nodded again. “This is very popular in most of the male portion of Midgardians, but your brother is quite the opposite, he makes everyone like him by showing them that he cares and loves them, so that he isn’t weakened by showing affection, rather, he is gathering an army of supporters for when he needs them.” Loki glanced up at her, and tilted his head to the side.

“Does he, now? Could you give me an example?” Loki challenged her, eyes bright at the prospect of proving her wrong.

“Take myself as an example. There are only three people I can call my friend, or at least my confidant, because people either don’t know I exist or judge me on how many people I’ve killed. Your brother is one of them, the other two are Nick Fury and Tony Stark. Tony Stark is only my confidant at the moment.” (Y/N) told him, and Loki looked surprised.

“You, a slip of a child, have killed? In the rather protected environment of Midgard?”

“Protected only because I am part of the protection.”

“Well said.” Fury said, strutting into the room. Loki stiffened but didn’t turn to look at Fury. “Now if you could get your asses out of this room, I’d like to actually use the briefing room for briefing.”

“Fine.” (Y/N) muttered. “Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

“Smart-ass.”

“Dam right I am.” (Y/N) smirked and got up, dragging Loki by the wrist. “Let’s go, Icicle.”

(Y/N) marched him from the room, glancing down at the loud (compared to her soundless footsteps) manacles and chains.

“Are you going to take them off?”

“Nah, they look good on you.” (Y/N) responded and Loki quickly stood in front of her.

“If you are as powerful as you say you are, then you would have no trouble taking them off and not getting into trouble.”

“Trying to goad me into a releasing a wrathful god of mischief on the world?”

“Under the terms and conditions, I cannot physically harm anyone that my brother says I cannot harm.”

“No one ever reads terms and conditions in this day and age, and you only said physically, not psychologically and emotionally. As a silver-tongue, I figured you’d mare it less obvious.” (Y/N) glanced up at his face, then stepped around him, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was following her, then realising she was moving with super speed. Oops.

“Hurry up. We have places to be.” (Y/N) called over her shoulder, and Loki caught up smoothly, as if she had never taken the lead.

“And what places are that?”

“Well, first of all, I need to show you around the Compound, and then I need to-” (Y/N) was cut off as Loki shoved her against the wall.

The wall opposite blew up and (Y/N) cursed the fact that the labs had been placed so close to the briefing rooms.

Loki looked alert and protective. (Y/N) would have preferred if he hadn’t treated her like a breakable doll, but the view from where she was, trapped underneath his body against the wall was.... DON’T GO THERE. NOT NOW. YOU NEED TO LET LOKI KNOW THERE ISN’T A THREAT, THAT’S JUST BRUCE AND TONY EXPERIMENTING. The thoughts raced through her mind in an instant.

But Loki wasn’t looking at the wreckage; his eyes were focused on her lips.

Uh.

She wasn’t trained for this. Sure, Nat had taught her how to use her body to lure people in, but she had no idea what to do with a soulmate.

“So... mind telling me what that explosion was?” Loki asked, his eyes trailed up to hers, but he made no effort to move away from her.

The words spilled out of her in a rush, she didn’t have enough time to edit them before they hit Loki’s ears. “Tony and Bruce are in those labs now, and I swear I told Fury that we shouldn’t put the labs near the briefing rooms, but the bugger didn’t listen. If you’re going to kiss me, then freakin’ kiss me, although I have to warn you, I have no idea what to do with a soulmate.” FUCK MY LIFE! (Y/N) thought to herself. WHY THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY THAT?!

Loki’s lips pulled up into a smirk, and then they dove down to do exactly that, kiss her that is. His lips were soft and smooth against hers, which she was sure were slightly chapped, but she didn’t care at that moment, because Loki didn’t seem to mind. They moved slowly, and (Y/N) felt like she caught the hang of it. Sort of.

His hand slid to her waist and pulled her into him, as (Y/N)’s hands got tangles in his soft hair.

“(Y/N)?!?!?!?” Tony’s voice could be heard, and (Y/N) untangled one hand from Loki’s hair without breaking lip-contact and flipped him the bird.

Loki smiled against her lips and drew away, apparently conscious of what (Y/N) was doing (literally) behind his back.

“Fuck off tinman, I can kiss my soulmate where and when I want.” (Y/N) told him grumpily.

“Oh someone’s feeling grouchy.”

(Y/N)’s face burned up and she responded even more grouchily. “Just shut your trap before I shut it permanently.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Tony smirked, and Loki just watched between them, mildly confused, but very amused.

(Y/N) flicked her wrist, and Tony’s mouth snapped shut. She grabbed Loki’s wrist and marched away, Tony’s panicked, muffled protests were lost against the thuds of her boots and the gentle swish of the movement of their clothes. Seconds later, there was a clang, and Loki looked down to see that (Y/N) had released him of his restraints, a card in hand, which promptly disappeared into one of the many pockets in her super-suit.

“So, where is my beautiful maiden taking me?” Loki smirked, and (Y/N) glanced back, rolling her eyes.

“Well, since we’d have to walk past the rest of the labs which most likely only have interns and students in them to get to the living quarters, I’ll show around these parts of the Compound, and show you your quarters when they all go home.”

“And what do these parts of the Compound include? Private nooks and crannies, I hope. And a library.” Loki’s eyes glinted mischievously, and (Y/N) grinned at him over her shoulder.

They rounded a corner, and (Y/N) pulled Loki into her as they disappeared into a corner, concealed by what seemed to be a hologram of the wall.

There was little space, and Loki was flushed up against (Y/N)’s body, and (Y/N) smirked as the slightest bit of blush crept onto his cheeks at the fact that he had been so easily led into a small cranny, then his eyes lit up and he leaned in. (Y/N) chuckled, and pushed backwards slightly, and the wall behind her swung around, leaving Loki stumbling forward and almost getting hit in the face by the spinning door.

Scowling, Loki grumbled about pesky mortals and tricky soulmates, but followed her through the door, only for his breath to be stolen away. It was an indoor garden, paths wound around gardens of varying biodiversity. Some looked like they came straight from the Sahara Desert, others from the Amazon Rainforest. But the winding paths all lead to the centre of the massive domed area, a beautiful fountain.

“Hurry up, Loki. We don’t have all day.” (Y/N) ran back to grab Loki’s wrist and dragged him towards the fountain.

“Asgard’s gardens are much prettier, although not as diverse.... it is as if the gardens of Midgard have been condensed to this small area.” Loki muttered, and (Y/N) smirked back at him.

“Thank you for your praise, I do make sure my gardens are well-maintained and represent every place in the world properly.”

“THIS,” he gestured wildly at everything. “IS YOURS?”

“Yeah, well the space isn’t mine, Fury gave it to me when I started growing vines in his office, but yeah, the gardens are mine. The fountain also isn’t mind, it’s Tony’s, he just needed to put it somewhere.”

“So what’s your ability?”

“Manipulation of all living matter. Which explains why I could shut Tony up immediately, and grow this.” (Y/N) sat down on the edge of the fountain. “Now sit, I want to hatch a plan to get revenge for Fury for making me sit out of missions for the next few months.”

“Of course, milady.” Loki smirked, and the rest of the day was spent plotting mischief and making out. They would say they plotted more, but we all know they made out more than anything.

[bensbuttercup]

In My Head (S.M.) One

Summary: Olivia McNally, an inexperienced and workaholic editor meets one of Hollywood’s golden boys by chance. When Shawn suggest he teach Olivia the ropes of show business she jumped at the opportunity unaware of everything it wouid entail.

Word count: 1896

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual contrent

Paring: Shawn Mendes x Professional Editors! OC

Authors note: first parts just a little short I promise it picks up after this.

Olivia sat in a small Santa Monica Cafe, it was empty except for her and the two other members of the public relations team. The cafe had been rented for the afternoon by the Universal Music group, an important meeting with one of their artists about an upcoming press releases was scheduled. Olivia had a cappuccino, no sweetener or flavoring, in front of her while she flipped through different tabs on her laptop.

“Olivia?” At the mention of her name Olivia’s head shot up. Her glasses slipped down the bridge of her nose slightly because of the movement, but she quickly pushed them back up. Her eyes were wide while she looked to the head editor, Josh, who was sitting at the head of the table, two seats away from her. “You know what you need to write down?” Josh asked Olivia.

“Of course,” Olivia clicked on the tab of her laptop labeled, ‘Delicate press release’, and nodded. Olivia quickly clicked through the other tabs she also had open, alphabetized and easy to access in case they were brought up. It was important to Olivia that she was able to keep up with any topic the meeting covered, not just what she was responsible to cover.

Olivia graduated from NYU, she number five in her class with a degree in publishing and editing. With a 4.0 average form one of the best universities in the world it wasn’t a surprise that Olivia was being offered jobs at some of the biggest companies in existence. She had accepted the job with the Universal Music Group and m was slowly working her way up the ladder of editors. At the moment Olivia sat second on Taylor Swift’s editing and public relations team, it was a dream come true and she was thankful to wake up every morning with the job she loved going to.

Olivia pulled on the sleeves of her brown and white cardigan as she waited for Taylor to arrive for the meeting. It was a Sunday afternoon, but it was the only day they were able to have the meeting with Taylor’s busy schedule. On Sunday’s Olivia usually liked to stay in bed with her dog, Padfoot, and watch movies while she worked on her articles for the week. So this situation was far from ideal.

The door to the cafe opened and Josh sat up straighter as the click of heels were heard on the floor. Olivia had worked with Taylor one on one before, she often saw Taylor outside work as well. People’s fame didn’t tend to intimidate Olivia like it did other members of the team. She saw everyone as people, they just had unusual careers.

“I hope you don’t mind I brought a friend.” Taylor’s voice reached where Olivia, Josh and Seth were sitting before she even entered the room.

“Your friends are always welcome Taylor!” Josh stood up to meet Taylor in the small doorway to the dining room. Olivia sat quietly at her seat, her eyes skimming one of her articles for the upcoming week while she had a moment. The bangs she was trying to grow out managed to fall out of the messy bun that sat on her head. She quickly pushed them back into the rubber band before pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth.

“Taylor called me a friend?” A new male voice entered the conversationz Olivia’s Head snapped up to look across the room where the small group were all shaking hands. She stayed seated, but her eyes quickly found the new individual in the room, he was tall, taller than Seth and Josh, and he carried himself with confidence. No one had seemed to notice the quiet girl yet, which gave Olivia ample time to observe the newcomer to the group. Of course she knew who Shawn Mendes was. Who didn’t? However, she never thought she would be in the same room as the boy.

Olivia pulled her bottom lip between her teeth again as she allowed her eyes to scan Shawn’s figure, he was tall and muscular. The best word Olivia could find to describe him was big. Her eyes followed the seams of his white t shirt, it looked as if his shirt was painted on the way is clung to his muscles. His biceps were massive, and Olivia couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel wrapped around her in a hug. Her eyes continued to trail down his arms, the veins which stuck out had Olivia wondering how much the boy worked out, and how much of it was from playing guitar. His hands were the last thing she was able to focus on, he talked with his hands so Olivia watched closely as the moved and flexed. His hands were massive and she wanted to hold one, to feel his skin against hers.

“Olivia!” She looked over from where she was currently sitting to Seth who was tapping his foot impatiently against the hardwood of the cafe floor. Olivia pushed her glasses up again and stood up as she walked over to the small group. No one greeted her but Josh did have a request for her. As per usual.

“Can you go put in another round drink orders?” Josh asked.Olivia nodded with a sigh. Josh never included Olivia in the initial conversations he had with Taylor, it often seemed as if Olivia was just there for work and not for the personal benefits. Olivia knew she was quiet but that didn’t meant she could be taken advantage of, however she knew what battles to fight and this wasn’t one.

Everyone wrote their order down on a small piece of paper and it was eventually given to Olivia who gave a soft smile before making her way to place the order with the two people who were working in the cafe for the day.

“Hi,” Olivia gave one of the baristas the paper with the order. “Thank you so much!” Olivia added after the girl turned away to start the Oder.

Olivia moved to wait for the drinks, her back against the wall while she responded to a few work emails. She had articles going out four days the next week and needed to make sure they were all sent into publishing on time. She had just sent her last email when she heard another voice at the counter.

“I’m sorry if I can just add on to that,” Olivia looked up. “A brown sugar latte.” Olivia watched as the muscles in Shawn’s back moved while he spoke. His muscles jumped as he spoke, it looked like they wanted to burst out of his t shirt. Olivia quickly looked back down at her phone while he turned away, how embarrassing would it be if she got caught staring? Olivia assumed that he would walk off to go join the others again, but he didn’t. Instead he started walking towards her. Olivia looked up when she saw that he was closer to her and smiled softly.

“You always get stuck doing this?” Shawn asked. Olivia always got nervous making eye contact with new people, but she looked up and nodded. She still avoided his eyes but held herself confidently.

“Yeah, but it’s fine I don’t mind.” Olivia spoke watching as Shawn leaned on the wall next to her. He leaned his head back against the wood and picked one of his legs up to rest the sole of his sneaker on the wall. “You know you don’t have to stand here?” Olivia asked. “I can take yours back with me too, go like sit and talk. Socializing I think it’s called.” Shawn turned his head to look at her before shaking his head. He licked his bottom lip before speaking.

“You never really get to be a part of any of those conversations do you?” Shawn asked. Why was he asking her that? Did he want a full insight into her lonely life?

Olivia very rarely was able to attend work events since she was still underage. So on weekends while all her co-workers were out together at bars Olivia wound up stuck at home. She would often order take out and work on her articles for the week, however, with all of her friends still in New York it got lonely. She had Padfoot, but that was really all, she couldn’t rely on her dog for company forever. “No, but why should they matter?” Olivia answered Shawn’s questions.

“Show business isn’t easy, and I know what your gonna say—” he waved a hand pushing himself off the wall. “But you’re just as involved in show business as I am, as Taylor is. I was just lucky that Taylor took me under her wing, if she didn’t I really don’t think I would be where I am.”

“Well you’re incredibly talented.” Olivia spoke as she finally willed herself to make eye contact with Shawn. He had the most beautiful brown eyes she had ever seen, the low light of the cafe made them twinkle. Olivia felt as if she could look into them forever.

“Well I do believe that in your debut article you put my new album as your favorite of the year. Well, so far that is.” Shawn flashed Olivia a smile and she felt a blush creeping up her neck. “I read everyone’s articles, have to keep up with the competition. That’s not the point though,” Shawn dismissed his last comment. “What I’m saying is that I’m willing to take you under my wing. Teach you the ropes of show business, if you want of course.”

Why would Shawn want to take me under his wing? Olivia thought to herself. Compared to him she was a speck, an incredibly small fish in a huge pond. Olivia mulled the idea over in her mind, what would this entail? She hoped that she would be able to make more friends out of it, get more of an inside look at show business. It would give her more time to get to know Shawn better, he had always intrigued her and what an opportunity to be able to pick his mind. Olivia watched as a crease formed in between Shawn’s eyebrows as he watched her consider his offer.

Olivia looked down at her white Doc Martens and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth again, a nervous habit. “You have a deal,” she said. Olivia looked up to meet Shawn’s eyes as a smile slowly creeped on to his face.

“Good,” Shawn grabbed a napkin and pulled a sharpie out of his jeans.

“Really? A sharpie?” Olivia giggled seeing Shawn scribble something on to the napkin.

“I love my fans,” Shawn shrugged. He handed Olivia the napkin and she saw a phone number on it. “We should grab dinner tonight, we have a lot to talk about.”

“Take out at my apartment?” Olivia asked quietly as the barista pushed a tray of drinks towards the two.

“I said I was getting you used to show business, I’ll have reservations for us somewhere don’t worry.” Shawn spoke before he picked up the tray of drinks and walked back into the meeting room. Olivia stood stunned in the middle of the cafe wondering just what she got into when Shawn said he would he teaching her the ropes.

Tag list:

@the-claire-bitch-project @heavenly--osterfield @spideymood @ap93mcu @parkerstan @sincerelymlg @ilovejackavery @ashwarren32

[eternalstereksecretsanta]

love letters straight from your heart

For the lovely @poetry-protest-pornography, who listed one of their favorite tropes as “doing something nice for the other and getting caught.” although this didn’t quite turn out to be that, I hope you enjoy anyway ♥

It seemed like a good idea at the time. How much of Stiles’ life was shaped by those words? But this? This was probably one of the worst decisions he had ever made.

After two years of living in the dorms, Stiles was faced with a choice. Either find some people to get a shitty apartment with, or move back home. Between nightmares and training with Deaton, moving back to Beacon Hills made the most sense. The commute was only an hour and he had managed to schedule his on-campus classes to meet only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Everything else he could take online.

But he just had to go complaining about moving back in with his dad to Derek over the summer. In his defense, he never expected Derek to offer his spare room. Because Derek had a house now. A very nice house. And a job.

Honestly, the idea of living somewhere he could be independent, yet still see his dad whenever he wanted was too good to pass up. But now, standing in the fancy kitchen and staring at the yellow sticky note on the coffee maker, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d made a mistake.

DO YOUR OWN DISHES, spelled out in Derek’s blocky hand writing stared back at him. Stiles sighed, scrunching up the yellow square and setting it beside his mug. It was the fifth note he’d found in as many days. One in the bathroom (PICK UP YOUR TOWELS), one on the refrigerator (DON’T DRINK MY BEER), and several others scattered across the house.

It was infuriating. This was the reason Stiles had wanted to sit down and draw up a roommate contract, but Derek’s only stipulation was ‘pay the rent on time.’ Stiles rinsed his mug and dropped it into the dishwasher. It hadn’t even been a week and he was already worrying about making this work.

—

Stiles was stubborn. He told his dad this was for the best, so he was going to stick it out. And Derek wasn’t a bad roommate, really. He worked odd hours because he was the newest deputy on the force, but he was always quiet and neat. Sometimes Stiles didn’t even know he was home.

After the first month, Derek convinced him to take the Toyota to class. It had much better gas mileage, plus meant less wear and tear on the Jeep. So Stiles parked Roscoe in the garage with the Camaro and hung the new set of keys off of his keyring.

All in all, Stiles though they were doing well. Even if they rarely saw each other. (Which, considering the massive crush he had on Derek, was probably for the best. No need to make it weird.)

It had been two weeks without a damn sticky note, so Stiles figured he’d cleaned up his act enough to make Derek happy. Until one morning he came down to a note reading PICK UP YOUR SHIT. It was stuck to the wall above the pile of shoes and sweatshirts and textbooks that had accumulated in the living room.

Stiles sighed heavily before gathering up the mess to take to his room. “This is why we need the expectations outlined,” he grumbled, not even caring if he woke Derek up.

He dumped everything on the floor, grabbed his backpack, and shut the door a tad bit harder than necessary. KEEP YOUR DOOR CLOSED OR CLEAN YOUR ROOM had been the last message and Stiles tried hard to comply. But hell, it was exhausting trying to remember all of the rules. Maybe he should have kept the notes instead of crumpling each one and throwing it away.

—

For the first two months living together, Stiles could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually spoken to Derek. Part of it was his crazy schedule, with classes and training with Deaton and hanging out with his dad. And the rest was Derek’s apparent preference for night shifts. In fact, it wasn’t until mid-October that Derek finally confronted Stiles about his sleeping habits.

Stiles was neck deep in practice tests when the door to the garage swung open. Derek dropped his work bag on the kitchen floor and slipped into the chair across from him. There were notecards, loose leaf papers, and multiple notebooks spread across the table between them.

Derek took in the chaos and sighed. “Why are you still up?”

“Stupid exam tomorrow.” Stiles didn’t even look away from his screen. The words stopped making sense an hour ago, but there was no way he could remember this many conjugations.

“Go to bed.” Derek gently slid the laptop out of range. “You can’t learn anything when you’re this tired.”

“But…” Stiles’ protest died as Derek fixed him with a look. It clearly conveyed that he wasn’t listening to arguments. Defeated, Stiles leaned back in his chair and yawned widely. Ugh. It was almost four in the morning.

The next day was brutal. Stiles rolled out of bed at eight o’clock to an alarm that he didn’t remember setting. He stumbled down the stairs, trying not to wake Derek with his heavy footfalls. But when he went to pull the milk out of the refrigerator, the sight of a yellow sticky note on the door made him freeze.

In neat capital letters, it said: GOOD LUCK TODAY. There was even a smiley face. Was this the Twilight Zone?

Stiles stared, then blinked several times. But the words didn’t disappear.

He smiled the entire duration of his morning routine, stopping to stick the note to the inside cover of his Latin textbook before he left. Then he hopped into Derek’s Toyota and drove to school.

He aced the exam.

—

Several weeks passed and Derek was already out on his night shift when Stiles shuffled in from school. He’d had an incredibly long day, filled with lectures and labs and finishing a stupid group project. Finding a familiar yellow note hanging from the microwave didn’t fill him with dread anymore. Especially not when it said: DINNER’S IN THE FRIDGE.

Stiles heated up the leftovers, feeling exhausted and content. Derek had even made his absolute favorite because he knew today was going to suck.

It was difficult not to read into Derek’s little acts of kindness, and Stiles was crushing harder with every note. The newest one was going to hang alongside DON’T FORGET YOUR LUNCH, and SCOTT SAYS HELLO, and DON’T WORRY I’LL BUY MORE COFFEE TONIGHT, and HAVE A GOOD DAY. That last note had Stiles grinning like a lunatic, to the point where Deaton asked if everything was alright.

So all in all, life with Derek was good. Stiles just had to keep reminding himself that Derek was a friend and not his co-lead in some rom-com about a werewolf and a spark who live together and fight crime. Although that would probably be an awesome idea for a TV show.

Shaking his head at the thought, Stiles loaded his dishes into the dishwasher and headed up to bed.

—

Halfway through the semester, Stiles’ three accelerated online classes had finals. He was super excited because that meant he’d be down to only two classes. His work load was about to be so much easier, and he might even have time to catch up on Netflix

The only problem was that the exams had to be scheduled at the proctoring center on campus. And because he was an idiot, he scheduled them all back to back. How he was going to survive six hours of testing was a mystery.

But Derek stayed up with him every night for a week, flipping through notecards and quizzing him on what he knew. Plus, he promised to take the night off and have a movie marathon once Stiles got home. Because Derek’s house was ‘home’ now and Derek was one of his best friends.

Sure enough, a yellow square saying: YOU’VE GOT THIS was already in his spot on the kitchen table. Stiles grinned at the note, peeling it away so he could add it to his collection.

—

On a typical Thursday night, Derek tapped at the door and stepped into Stiles’ room. Which he had never actually been in before. It seemed kind of weird, now that Stiles thought about it. He glanced over at the mountain of three week old laundry in the corner that was offensive to even his human nose and, well maybe not.

Marking his page, he set the textbook on his desk. “Hey, what’s up?”

Derek didn’t respond. He was staring at the bed with a slightly dazed expression. Then Stiles remembered the little yellow squares affixed to the headboard in neat rows.

He flushed, not really sure what to say. “Was there something that you wanted?”

Derek tore his eyes away. “I just wanted to make sure you were ready.”

Right. This morning’s note read WE’RE HAVING DINNER WITH YOUR DAD. It was a nice reminder of the fact that Derek was taking fewer night shifts. Sometimes he was even around to hang out with.

“Give me a second.” Stiles glanced down at his ratty sweatpants and stained t-shirt. Man did he need to do laundry.

He emerged from his room in more appropriate clothes and followed Derek out to the Camaro.

They were halfway to his house when Derek broke the silence. “You kept the notes.”

“Yup.” Because, obviously.

—

Stiles rushed home from school. It was the last day of the semester and normally he’d be ecstatic to have his freedom back. But this time, he was too nervous. Honestly he had no idea what he was thinking that morning. Maybe he could still get back in time to take that idiotic note off of the counter.

He parked in the driveway and sprinted to the door, hands shaking as he unlocked it. When the door finally clicked open, he crashed into the kitchen. The shower upstairs was running. Fuck. Maybe he could call it a friend dinner? People probably made reservations at the fanciest restaurant in town for friend dinners all the time. Right?

Stiles’ panicked eyes landed on the note. His hurried scrawl: Dinner at Luka’s? 6pm was followed by Derek’s blocky print spelling out: IT’S A DATE and underlined three times.

Sagging against the counter, Stiles took a deep breath. He knew he hadn’t imagined the last few weeks. Derek was home all the time now, only taking shifts while Stiles was training or at school. Which meant they spent most of their day bickering over recipes and watching crappy television.

It was awesome and domestic and Stiles couldn’t wait to date the hell out of Derek Hale.

—

(And five years later, they visited Luca’s again. But this time, Stiles’ drink came with a sticky note asking WILL YOU MARRY ME?)

[storytaeme]

my wish list – taegi

Taehyung received the perfect Christmas miracle when he won a giveaway from his favorite camboy, sugar_d, who was willing to fulfill his wish list.

taegi week 2017 – taehyung x yoongi

❅ Prompt: Wish List

❅ Elements: Smut  |  Camboy AU    ↪ smut includes fingering, dildo, and camsex

❅ Word Count: 4,271 words

❅ A/N: Un-proofread lmao cause MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! it is still the 24th somewhere so i made it :’) anyway this is a quick smut, hope u like it!

Congratulations, kimchifriend! You have been selected as the winner of sugar_d’s holiday giveaway. Please respond promptly to this message if you are available next Thursday at 9PM KST for the appointment. Otherwise, I’ll be selecting a new winner. I hope you can make it, sugar!

Taehyung had never won a single thing in his entire life. All the shitty lotteries he’s joined in college, whether it be mini-mart scratch-offs or useful prizes during club events, all his raffle tickets seem to lead him to a dead end. Now, Taehyung might be a little reckless, but he only invested in things he truly, truly liked.

Like sugar_d’s regular show which costed him a good chunk of his paycheck but was worthwhile considering how relaxed he felt after every viewing. Sure, it included a fuck ton of wrist jerking on his side, but whatever it took to get him off, he would do it. Graduating college and being on a full-time job that paid generously yet took up a great portion of his daily life meant that he could barely find time to unwind and, you know, get his sex life back on track. Porn helped sometimes, but the huge dicks and forced moans had begun to wear out.

Hoseok was the one that led him to stumble upon this man’s show. It was sort of funny really. Taehyung had been cynical of the whole concept, had laughed at Hoseok for paying monthly to watch people get themselves off in front of a camera.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

While Hoseok subscribed to the standard plan of his favorite camgirl, Taehyung had unconsciously clicked the premium button in his moment of weakness with trembling knees. He hadn’t even considered dropping the subscription anytime soon.

So, every Wednesday after work and Sunday after doing the usual house chores, Taehyung would whip off his sweats, settle back comfortably on his bed, and prop open his laptop. Then he could beat himself off, slick sounds bouncing off the four walls without a care.

When sugar_d announced that he would be having a giveaway, Taehyung knew that the chances of him winning were slim to none. It was a charity thing—the more you donated to him, the higher the chances of winning. Taehyung had bought one balloon raffle on the site since he didn’t have the heart or rationality to purchase more. He had his own bills to pay after all. One balloon raffle against the millions of others. The odds smacked him in the face.

However, that was what startled him about the email. For so long, he stared at the words printed on the screen, scanning over every line and curve and wondering if this was some sort of prank. Did he really—

In his moment of crisis of deciding whether he should reply and risk his dignity, another message popped up.

sugar_d: hey there! i know the site sent you an automated message but figured i’d send you a personal one to wish you a congrats for winning my giveaway!

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

Taehyung let out a holler which prompted Jeongguk just a few feet away from him to jump. “Fuck, Guk, I won something. I actually won something!”

“Uh, congrats?” Jeongguk looked at him, puzzled, and returned to his game.

With trembling, excited fingers, he typed in his response, mouthing the words to himself to make sure that it sounded right.

kimchifriend: hOLY SHIT!!!! thank you so much??? i’ve never won anything in my life but this is like the goddamn lottery ty @Jesus

The typing bubble appeared for a little while, disappearing, then reappearing. Taehyung wondered if that had been too much of a response for something as small as a camboy private show giveaway. While waiting, he quickly clicked the confirm button to accept his gift and the notification celebrated his win with confetti on his screen.

sugar_d: pffft, sorry, i was laughing too hard to type. but i’m glad you think so! i see that you’ve confirmed. i’ll send you a list of things i won’t do, and so please don’t request any of those. if you want me to prepare things ahead of time, do send me your list! it’ll be a two-hour long show so buckle up, big boy

Taehyung was going to nut so good.

When the day arrived, he had managed to kick Jeongguk out of the apartment for a good two hours so he could comfortably relax without the risk of Jeongguk walking in on him with his meat in his hand. Not that they hadn’t seen each other’s dicks before, it just seemed safer to avoid any strange possibility of sexual tension between roommates.

sugar_d, who usually went by Suga, had given him a Skype account to add days ago, throwing in a kiss emoji that shot an arrow right through his poor, little heart. Taehyung had worked on adding him, but despite all that he knew about the science of the body and nature (biology major problems), he wasn’t the best at handling technology. Thus, when the time came that Suga called him on the program, he clicked the accept button and—

Holy fuck, his poor dick.

As requested, the guy was all dressed up in the prettiest babydoll that Taehyung had purchased for him. It was white to complement his milky skin with pink lace trimming. The skirt fell halfway down his thighs to continue to the stretch of his thin legs. He was kneeling on the bed, hands placed elegantly over his creamy thighs. His hair was a little messy, looked fucked out before they even began. His lips—fuck, they were glistening tantalizingly.

“Holy shit,” he whispered to himself, pushing his face closer to his screen as if he could get a better look that way.

The chuckle that followed from the man on the other side had Taehyung’s dick twitching. “Hello, baby.” Taehyung wanted to cry. “I thought you wanted to be anonymous, but you’re pretty cute.”

His brows knitted in confusion at that until he searched the screen to find his face in a small corner of it. Oh shit, he forgot to turn off the camera. Taehyung fumbled around, flushing in embarrassment, “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to be a weirdo or anything, I know you don’t want to see faces. I’m new at this whole Skype thing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Suga grinned, gummy teeth and crinkly eyes. Taehyung was in love. “I don’t think I’d mind watching you, if you don’t mind that is. I’ve never seen people react live to my shows so it would be a nice change.”

“Y-you want me to keep my cam on?”

Suga smiled, winking, “Only if you want to, baby.”

God, yeah, he definitely wanted to. A small part of him called him pathetic for imagining Suga to be some sort of boyfriend material that he was having camsex with. So sue him, he could let his imagination live if he wanted to. “Yeah,” Taehyung licked his lips, “but I can’t guarantee I won’t have, uh, a reaction.”

“Is it bad that I kind of want to see you play with yourself?” Suga’s pearly whites caught his bottom teeth, eyes looking up softly at the screen.

Taehyung felt all the blood rush south to press his hardening dick against the seam of his sweats. He wished he had put on something more attractive but he had on a ratty university tshirt and a pair of worn-out sweats. He hadn’t been expecting to be putting on a show for Suga in the first place. “I’m—shit, I’m really hard right now just from hearing you talk.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Suga laughed, “so just to confirm your small list here, which by the way, I was expecting to be longer and more extreme.” He dangled a sheet of paper in front of the camera that printed down everything Taehyung had asked for. Taehyung hadn’t gotten the chance to get down and dirty with anyone with full-blown kinks so he wasn’t quite sure what to throw into the list. “I’m kind of grateful you kept it simple.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung replied sheepishly, “I wasn’t expecting to win so I just… didn’t think this thoroughly.”

Suga grinned again, leaning forward to give a close up of his pretty face. God, Taehyung was so, so in love. “Don’t worry, baby, your list is perfect. It’s everything I can do so I can make sure that I give you the perfect show.”

“I think anything you decide to do will be perfect,” Taehyung blurted out then proceeded to blush. Why was he trying to do smooth pick up lines? Taehyung wasn’t smooth pick up lines. He was smooth and suave hidden in a full package of awkward and clumsy.

The man paused on screen, his face flattening to an expression akin to surprise. “That’s cute,” he finally said, amusement lacing his voice. “So, baby, are you going to play with me?”

Taehyung swallowed thickly and ignored the sudden throbbing in his pants. “C-can I?”

“Mhm,” Suga hummed and began to tease the thin strap of his little dress. “Show me what you got.” Taehyung inhaled sharply and nodded, pushing his laptop back a little and pulling down his pants. When Suga laughed, he looked up in alarm. “You’re not much of a tease, are you?”

“No, sorry,” he laughed, “more of a direct kill kind of guy.”

Suga grins, letting the straps drape around his arms. “I like it, it’s refreshing. Now come up, baby, let me see your cock.”

Taehyung nodded and sat back against the pillows, laptop in between his legs so his cock could be seen.

“Wow,” he let out a whistle, lips curling into a slow lazy smirk. “You’re so hung, God, bet you’d fill me up so good. Your cock is so thick.” The man licked his lips, which in turn had Taehyung squeezing his shaft to stop himself from jerking it hard and fast.

“Y-you think so?”

“One of the thickest I’ve seen, baby,” Suga drawls, slowly hiking the skirt up his thighs. Taehyung’s lips parted as his eyes focused on the tantalizing skin being exposed bit by bit. It was almost hypnotizing the way his small fingers drew the fabric upwards, higher and higher until Taehyung could see the hint of another layer of clothing covering his privates.

Taehyung wished that he could be there, catch that fabric between his teeth and tug it up himself. It was a tempting offer and Suga seemed very keen after seeing his dick—but then again, that was the way he worked. He teased, pulled and pushed, until all his viewers were tossing online money in his direction. Suga was one of the big pullers in the site, raking in thousands with one go that allowed him to purchase more toys and lingerie to please his audience. Other times, he survived on donations for pretty things that he could use during the show, like roleplay outfits and pretty panties.

He was the best crowd pleaser.

Even then as he let the hem fall over his thighs again, all Taehyung could do was miserably throw his head back and let out a pained moan. Suga giggled, a cute lilted tease, “Don’t you make the sexiest sound? You sound like this every time you get hot and bothered, baby?”

“Mmph,” Taehyung whined, “yeah, always like this.”

“Why don’t you boss me around? You know I like a man with authority.” Suga bit his plump bottom lip and coyly twirled his finger around the string of his dress. This was what Taehyung had placed on his list. Fuck.

Taehyung took a deep breath, fingers tightening around his dick, “Slip that thing off, doll. Take it off for me.”

Suga nodded and tugged the thin silk up. It looked so smooth and neat, sliding up his skin all too easily before finally lifting up to his stomach. His stomach was soft and pudgy, a cute thing that added to his innocence. However, that certainly wasn’t the aspect of him that caught Taehyung’s eye. His cock, hard and leaking, was peeking off the top of his panties. A pair of cotton white ones.

Holy shit. Taehyung could practically feel his eyes roll back as he uncapped his lube and drizzled it all over his cock.

“Sorry, baby,” Suga said, looking far from apologetic, “I played with myself a little earlier. Got myself a little messy.” As if to make his point, he pressed his index finger against the tip of his cock and raised it up, letting a string of precum that connected his digit to his length stretch. Even in the shitty connection, Taehyung could see the line. His lips parted almost instinctively, tongue practically salivating for it.

“I-I can help you with that,” Taehyung gulped, eyes still glued on how fucking fantastic Suga looked with with the panties pressing his cock up against his stomach. It was such a pretty little thing. Although he had never seen the man live, Suga’s cock looked much, much smaller compared to Taehyung’s. Not that it was a bad thing. Taehyung most definitely could work with it and might even have a thing for smaller cocks. There was something almost endearing, almost taboo about the size that had his mouth watering and throat drying.

The man looked up at him from his lashes as he nudged his hips forward a little. The action creating a friction that dragged his panties back slightly, tightening it around his hips. Fuck, what a sight. “Yeah? You think so, baby?”

“Yeah, sugar, I can try,” Taehyung rasped, gritting his teeth as he worked his cock slower. He couldn’t go too fast. If he came quickly, it would be so, so embarrassing. “How about you turn around and pull those panties up more, hm? Want to see it in your ass, doll.”

Suga squirmed and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Turning around, he slowly bent over, taking his time to allow Taehyung the opportunity to appreciate that unblemished ass. Christ, if he were there, he would’ve wanted to imprint his handprint on that snowy skin, would’ve nibbled on the skin until the back of his thighs were littered with purples and blues. The pretty boy gave a small shudder when he tugged the fabric up between his cheeks, grazing it over his tight hole. He even went as far as to push it aside and give Taehyung a glimpse of that puckered opening.

Taehyung’s tongue absentmindedly poked out as if seeking out that opening. God, he wanted to eat that ass. “Y-you’re so gorgeous,” he stammered nervously, wrist still flicking to stroke his cock. “Get your lube, doll, I want to see you open yourself up for me. Can you do that?”

The man didn’t even blink before he quickly reached for his lube and drenched his fingers in it. He rubbed his fingers together before arching his back more, sticking his ass towards the screen. Fuck. Then his fingers ghosted over the entrance, his body shivering at the coolness of the gel as he teased the rim with a single finger. Taehyung moaned painfully and circled his fingers around his cock, stopping his level of libido that was climbing much too fast.

“D-do you think I’m pretty?” Suga asked, throwing a sultry, sweet look over his shoulder. It was both adorable and sexy, the combination lethal when Taehyung was already biting his knuckle to hold back his sounds of pleasure.

“You’re fucking beautiful, pretty,” Taehyung breathed, the oxygen barely making it into his lungs. The world seemed to crumble around him in this heavenly bliss when Suga finally pushed a finger in—one miserable finger. The hole tightened around his finger, sucking it in. Fuck, his ass must be so, so tight. Taehyung could imagine how his tongue would feel inside there. He could probably stroke every inch of his wall and swirl the muscle around and have the man writhing underneath him within minutes. It was torturous to see Suga dance a finger around the rim, dipping it every once in a while but never fully fingering himself. “Come on, doll, don’t tease me like this,” Taehyung protested weakly.

He’d be lying if it wasn’t doing wonders to his dick. Suga finally showed some semblance of mercy when he slipped a finger in and then added another. The blonde pressed his face deeper into the sheets, letting out a curse when he started to slide his digits in and out. Taehyung wished he could record this moment, how fucking incredible he looked. His fingers seemed to be swallowed in, vacuumed into the thick skin. It wasn’t long before Suga was shuddering, fingers stuttering in his ass. Taehyung watched him curl his fingers inside of himself, the tips of his fingers scraping his insides.

“Fuck, fuck, you look so good like that, sugar,” Taehyung choked, eyes slamming shut as he pushed away the urge to fucking come. He wasn’t even halfway done and Taehyung was already on the edge. “B-but I don’t want to come like this. Turn around for me again, on your knees.”

Suga whimpered but did as was told. And—fuck, Taehyung didn’t think it could get any better. However, the contrast between the purity of the pair of panties against the tip of his reddened cock, dripping with come rolling down and staining his underwear, might just be the death of him. What a wonderful death that would be.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung clenched his jaw, “how are you so beautiful, doll? God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ sexy and sweet. Whoever’s fucking you must be having the time of their life. Bet they get to enjoy that tight ass whenever they want.”

“N-nobody—” Suga’s breath hitched “—nobody’s fucking me right now. I just play with myself, it gets a little lonely.”

Taehyung’s lip quivered. Christ, this man really was going to end him. “Nobody, doll? God, you’re so pretty you deserve to be fucked good every night.”

“Wish I had that,” Suga moaned.

“Bounce on your fingers for me, doll. Fuck yourself like how you’d imagine me fucking you,” Taehyung instructed in a grunt. Suga followed his orders religiously, lifting his body up and dropping back down. His lips parted every time he sank down on his fingers, the long digits slipping inside and generating electricity that coursed through him. Taehyung drank in the sight, memorized every inch of Suga’s smooth skin coated with a sheen layer of sweat that was barely visible in the camera. It was pretty nonetheless to see him glisten from time to time underneath the lights.

“Hnng, fuck that feels so good, so tight—aah, I c-can feel it,” Suga whined, finding the rhythm to his movements and exerting enough source to build up the bubbling pleasure inside of him. Taehyung himself could feel flame lick up his skin, setting his entire body alight with thrill at the sight of the pretty boy. “Fuck, w-want your cock inside me instead,” he groaned, head lolling back as he relished in the utter deliciousness of the sensations.

Taehyung cooed, pupils dilating as his gaze traced over the man’s lithe frame, “You’re so pretty, doll. Look at your cock dripping so wet for me, what a good boy.” Suga let out a small, satisfied whimper at that. “God, what a gorgeous thing you are. I bet you’re always like this, hm? Always so wet for any guy who gives you a little attention?”

Suga’s body tensed up and an apology was already hanging on the tip of his tongue but the man was already releasing a loud moan from his lips. Whines that had fire igniting in every inch of his body escaped his throat, had Taehyung shifting himself and fucking his hand faster.

“Y-you have your toy, sugar?” Taehyung choked, eyes still wide to take in every bit of Suga. “Do you have a cock there with you to fill you up?”

The boy nodded quietly, face scrunched up as if he was deeply hurt. Taehyung was on the same boat, he supposed. The incessant throbbing of his cock was beginning to hurt and all he wanted was that sweet release. But he wanted to make the most of his time with Suga while he could, even if that meant he had t to endure a major case of temporary blue balls.

When Suga finally pulled out the object, Taehyung could already feel the come rising in his dick. Holy shit. The thing was thick and tan, might even rival Taehyung’s. It was the perfect size and, without being instructed to do so, Suga stuck the silicone into his mouth.

“F-fuck,” Taehyung cursed under his breath, moving forward to get stare at Suga better as he took the toy deep into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the tip, he spat on it so he could move his fingers along the length. His eyes squeezed shut as he shoved it deep into his throat, nearly gagging on it. It really was such a pretty sight. Suga sucked on the thing like his entire life depended on it, taking almost the whole thing into his mouth and stroking the rest. Taehyung’s cock twitch with his imagining that it was his own length that Suga was swallowing. “Baby, please,” he begged pitifully, “please just—shit, just fuck it. I can’t—I don’t think I’ll last any longer.”

While before Taehyung felt in complete control of the situation, able to tell Suga exactly what he wanted, he was left a pleading mess in his hands at that moment. It was everything he could ever picture and more. He’s seen Suga take things into his mouth before—popsicles, lollipops, dildos, you name it—but it was different when he was doing it in a one-on-one show with a toy that looked almost identical to his dick. It was intimate, a private moment shared between the two. It really wasn’t fair to his dick nor his heart.

Suga, fortunately enough for the sake of his aching member, grinned wickedly and agreed. “How do you want me, baby?”

“On your back, lie on your back,” Taehyung panted desperately, twisting his fingers around his tender length. The friction provided some relief but it wasn’t enough, it really wasn’t. He wanted to see Suga come undone before him, needed it to reach the full extent of his climax.

The blonde laid down and slid his panties off, flicking them aside carelessly. Taehyung could only watch as he slowly pushed the toy inside of him. Every inch that fit into him provoked a whine or a squeak. He observed not so quietly as moans of his own tumbled from his lips. He jerked his cock, tugged it, squeezed it. Suga pushed the makeshift cock inside of him, nudging his hips so he could move it in tempo with his hand.

He kept fucking himself over and over, the cock had him whimpering on the bed, cock dripping a mess all over his sheets. Taehyung couldn’t breath, his breath choking up in his chest at the sight. His brain was going all haywire as he tried to control what remained of his self-restraint.

“Fuck, just like that, doll,” Taehyung grunted, thrusting his hips up. He could practically taste sex in the air, painting the picture of his cock sliding into the pretty boy in his mind. “Fuck yourself all good for me. Make yourself feel good. You’re so fuckin’ pretty, holy fuck.”

“Mm, hnnng, just like t-that,” Suga stammered to himself, pushing his body down against the dildo. ��F-feels so good, wish it was actually you—shit, aaah—wish it was you fucking into me right now.”

“Me too, doll, me too,” Taehyung breathed, “fuck, I’m gonna come. M’gonna come so hard for you.”

Suga’s lips parted as he adjusted his position so he could see Taehyung. “Do it, baby, wanna see you spill all over your fingers. I want to see you—”

Before he could even finish, Taehyung was already pouring all over his hands, his wrists that had grown tired slowly doing to milk the last of his orgasm. It was a deliriously incredible high, a peak that had him muffling his groans into his voice. Taehyung let his head hit the back of his bed with a thump. “A-are you going to come with me, doll? Why don’t you do it? I-I wanna see you all over your hands, over your sheets, wanna know how fucking good it feels to get fucked like that.”

With a few more strokes, Suga was coming all over his stomach, panties still pushed aside and ripped at that point. It was a gorgeous sight and Taehyung swore that he could hear angels singing in the background.

“T-that was a good session,” Suga muttered afterwards, crinkling his nose as he wiped off the remnants of his desire from his body.

“Yeah,” he agreed, clearing his throat. His hand was still sticky but he couldn’t be bothered to move to clean himself up. He was feeling thoroughly fucked out without even doing the fucking. “Happy holidays, I guess.”

Suga snorted, “Happy holidays.”

sugar_d: hey, I know this is kind of weird but you wanna do that again sometime? Free of charge

sugar_d: just that i had a good time last time

kimchifriend: um??? Dude yes???? I mean im gonna keep subscribing to ur shit but a private show with you im always down

sugar_d: great :)

sugar_d: the name’s yoongi btw

kimchifriend: nice to meet ya, im tae

[dreamingofjoon]

Yes Sir

Jackson Wang x Reader

Word Count: 5.135

Be Warned: Sexual Content

A/N. I never really found any Ceo!Wang fics that I liked so I wrote one:D

Sup. This moodboard was made by me. None of the pictures belong to me though so credit to the owners:)

It’s always the same old, same old. Piles of paperwork, boring meetings, and overtime. Overtime was never your favorite. Was it anyone’s? The office was quiet and the only sound was that of papers flipping on both your desk and about two others. It was supposed to be about time you got home with your wine and your pizza for the weekend but of course, people were depending on you. The only upside to this crappy night was the view. Your office had a clear view of CEO Jackson Wang’s office if he chose to keep his blinds open. When he didn’t it was your loss but when he did, you couldn’t be happier. You observed how intently he worked. His jaw clenching when he was deep in thought and letting go when he found a solution. He was often fidgeting with his sleek black pen when he wasn’t writing with it. His office seemed pretty spacious so he often stood up and would pace back and forth behind his desk, talking to himself it seems. It was a wonderful view indeed and you were grateful that although he had the same view of you, he never looked your way.

He was a handsome man, one that could make you melt under his gaze but that rarely happened. He’s rarely looked at you ever since you started working here. A few times in a meeting and that was it. He didn’t speak too often with people at the office but he made rounds and sometimes asked how we were doing before going back to work. But tonight seemed different. You prepared to go back to your work when you felt a presence burning a hole in your face. It wasn’t too intense, as if they wanted to be inconspicuous. You looked up to see no other than CEO Wang staring back. You sat there in disbelief as he stared. He fidgeted with the pen in his hand, twisting it around his long, nimble fingers. Before you could break eye contact, he did it instead. He lowered his head and then brought it back up further, allowing you to see his defined neck. He ran a hand through his hair and by his gestures, you assumed he had laughed as well. Your eyes were bugging out wondering what was happening when he locked eyes with you again. He got up but kept your gaze, making you feel smaller. When he got up and made his way to his blinds, you were feeling quite intimidated. He showed a small smirk and suddenly closed them.

You were confused. What just happened? Why was he staring? Was this a dream? You didn’t want to admit it to yourself but you had a small crush on Jackson, as did most women in the office. The only difference was, you didn’t throw yourself at him. You kept your meeting short and respectful instead of trying to flirt. You couldn’t really flirt anyway. It was never your thing. This ordeal made you wonder though, did he finally notice you? Oh, get over yourself. You knew he had work to do. He often spaced out, staring at random objects when he was deep in thought. You were probably one of those random objects this time. When he realized you were staring back, he probably didn’t want a pair of eyes in his office. It was common sense. But even if you were a random object, you were glad he finally acknowledged you. You finished your work and made your way out, thinking only about how he stared at you.

The weekend passed pretty quickly and you had to trudge your way back to the office one again. You thought it would be a normal day but it was chaos especially when it came to your female co-workers. You tried to ignore the others’ behavior and made your way to your desk. You were surprised to be greeted by a velvety red envelope on your desk along with a rose. The envelope held a letter that read:

A Night To Remember…

A Night To Forget All Else…

For This Night,

Come And Think Only Of Me.

The next few words showed a time, date, and an address unbeknown to you. You sat at your desk in disbelief for a few seconds. This was like a scene in a movie. You reviewed the invitation over and over again, mostly thinking about the date which was at the end of the week. As you were about to put down the note, your co-worker and friend, Ella, came to you in a hysteric mess.

“Hey, did you get an invitation too? What color is yours? Does it say anyth-”

You cut her off by shushing her, wanting to clear your mind without her additional questions.

“Yeah I got one too. I’m guessing everyone got one?”

“Yeah…no. Not that many people got one. A few guys and a few girls. Anyway, what does yours look like? Mine is black and I found it when I got back from getting coffee. It was on my laptop and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t there before. The ones I’ve seen are all black with a little W in the corner in gold and I’m so confused and yeah…”

She took a few moments to catch her breath, allowing you to think. This was a pretty mysterious party. Would anyone could come? Would anyone take credit for it? One thing was for sure. Some people would be mad they didn’t get invited. It was also strange how you seemed to be the only one with a red envelope.

“Hey, did you get something along with your invitation?” you questioned.

“No, why? Did you?”

“Yeah, I got a flower. I doubt it’s anything though. What does yours say?”

“It says, You are cordially invited to attend the banquet of the year. Hope to see you there, then an address, date, and time. But if you got a flower, dude, we have to talk about this. Someone might like you!”

You were in a complete state of confusion. Your invitation was different and you got a rose. It seems whoever was throwing this party was your secret admirer and you enjoying every second of it. You had only been in one relationship and that was in high school. You were starting to want some validation and your friends’ weren’t always enough. These kind gestures let you feel better. And appreciated.

Other than the buzz in the morning, things had mostly calmed down. You were working but your mind kept drifting back to the invitation and rose. You stared at it often, contemplating if you should go or not. It was all you could think about during your lunch break although you left it on your desk. As you walk back to your desk, with coffee in hand, you are surprised once again by a phone set on your laptop.

You motion to go pick up the phone and ask who’s it was when the screen lit up with a text message.

W 3:43pm: It’s yours, don’t worry

You were livid but mostly frightened. Who would play this kind of joke on you? This prank wasn’t funny and you were determined to get to the bottom of it. You looked around trying to see who was trying to mess with you.

W 3:44:Don’t be scared

W 3:44:I’m the one who invited you

W 3:45:It’s my party

Your anger was soon subsided but you were still scared. How did they know how you felt? How did they know what you wanted to ask? You had many questions so you thought about how to reply.

You 3:52:Who are you?

You 3:52:Why did you give me this phone?

You 3:53:Why are you throwing this party?

Your questions were many and your patience was running thin. You were still looking around, seeing if anyone would respond and someone did, but the response didn’t add up to yours. It was taking a while for whoever W was to respond so you put the phone down, getting back to work. You turned the phone off, and looked up to find closed blinds, per usual. You didn’t like it, but you dealt with it. You shouldn’t let this get to you and you shouldn’t go to this party.

When you got home, it was time for a hot bath. That’s where you always did your best thinking. The bath was soothing and calmed your nerves, though you were still deep in thought. What was with this guy? No one really threw parties at the office and when they did, it was cheap and simple. This seemed too intricate for any of your co-workers and WAY out of their price-range although it was well-paying. You had this condo, that said something about your income.

When you got out and sat in your bed, you thought back to the mysterious phone. You turned it back on, wondering if W had responded. The screen lit up and you were greeted by a text.

W 5:00:I can’t answer all of your questions but I can tell you your main question will be answered tomorrow.

W 5:01: Please come

W 5:02: You won’t be disappointed.

You laid on your bed, wondering what this meant. Your thoughts were scattered and you were still confused. You knew you wanted to tell Ella about it but that would have to wait for a while. Your thoughts let you drift off to sleep, still wondering about your mystery man.

The morning was quiet. There was no more buzz, just the normal sound of regular gossip. That was until he came out. You were spacing out, sitting at your desk when CEO Wang came out of his office which rarely happened. All thoughts of your mystery man were pushed to the back of your mind, focusing on your boss. He looked as good as ever. A fitting, navy blue suit with black, leather shoes. His hair was swept to the side. He was really young for a CEO and his bleach blond hair, accentuated that.

He made his way to the meeting room, making others follow behind quiet and confused including you. By the time you got to the meeting room with your notebook to write down what he may say, he was standing at the front of the room.

“Those who were not invited to the banquet are dismissed.” he said calmly.

Although many were confused, nearly half of the people vacated the room, wondering what this was about. You spotted Ella and made a beeline towards her, plopping in the seat next to her. She seemed relieved to have you by her side, giving you a relieved glance before returning her attention to the boss.

“Hello, as you know, there will be a party that will be thrown this weekend. I would like to inform you that this party will be thrown by me. I am W.”

As the room filled with gasps and little murmurs, you were at a peak of confusion. The CEO. W? You knew your eyes were growing ever so large every passing second. Your mind went into over drive with thought. You were only broken out of your trance when Ella grabbed your hand, squeezing. Her eyes were large too but hers were filled with excitement. You looked back at the man at the front of the room, in utter shock. He looked back at you, a smile threatening to emerge but he kept his composure. His eyes seemed playful, as if they were toying with you.

“This party was organized for a large group of clients but I feel like this group also deserves a break. You all seem to be the hardest workers that I have seen in this office. I would appreciate if you could attend this party. Please wear formal clothing. Don’t try to look rich, just look nice, be polite, and enjoy yourselves. You are dismissed.” he said before he walked to the back, making his way to the exit, giving you a small wink before exiting.

You were left with a blank. Everyone was gossiping while you were contemplating. The CEO?! The fucking CEO! You hadn’t ever thought it would happen! This wasn’t a television drama! The murmurs in the room wouldn’t stop. Some people were even yelling but who could blame them? The CEO who almost never talked to his employees, had invited this group to a party. He left you speechless until you felt Ella pulling you back to reality with her high pitched squealing.

“Dude, it was the CEO! Can you fucking believe that!? And I let you go last night but no, we have to talk about this. I’ll call you around 8. Stay awake, okay?”

You answered her with an absentminded nod and made your way back to the main floor. You sat down and looked at the invitation on your desk. You look up to find him standing there, grin on his face before the blinds close again. The rest of your afternoon filled with shock and confused thoughts.

8:12 had rolled around before Ella had called you.

“Okay, I remember you said you got flowers with your invitation. Let’s start there.”

You took a deep breath before replying, knowing this would be an interesting conversation.

“Not exactly. I got one rose plus my invitation was red instead of black like yours.”

“Either way, we both know that the CEO likes you! Oh my gosh! What are you wearing to the party? We have until Saturday.” she said the words so fast, you could barely process what she was saying before you stopped her.

“Okay, you need to slow down. I’m not sure if I’m gonna go yet.”

The line was quiet for a few seconds before you uttered a “Hello?”, wondering if Ella was still on the line.

“NOT GOING?! Y/N! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You pulled back, wanting to recover from the attack your ears just suffered.

“Nothing’s wrong with me! Calm down!”

You tried to calm her down, not wanting to hear her rant but she wasn’t going to be shut down.

“There has to be something wrong with you! You’re turning down the CEO!”

“I don’t think he likes me! Okay? He’s probably playing around with me. For all we know, he’s getting a kick from my reactions.”

Before you had gotten on the phone, you were planning on telling her about the new, private phone but that idea went out the window. She was already mad about you indecision between going to the party or not. You didn’t another reason to be yelled at.

“I really doubt that! We’re going shopping for formal dresses on Thursday!”

With that, she hung up, giving you no chance to respond. She knew that now you would be forced to comply and you didn’t appreciate her tactics. She knew you too well. You put your phone on your nightstand to charge, and suddenly you heard a vibrating sound. Speak of the devil. Like he’s on a schedule, he texted you right at 8:30.

W 8:30:Did I surprise you?

You hesitated on how you should respond. Of course anyone would be surprised. You couldn’t process that the CEO did all of this, for you.

You 8:32:I think anyone would be surprised

You 8:32:The CEO? wow

W 8:33:There’s nothing really wow about it

W 8:34:But would this be wow enough to bring you to my party?

You were surprised. Why was he so intent on getting you to this party? It was kind of cute actually, how hard he was trying.

You 8:36:I’m not sure if i’m coming

You 8:36:But why do you want me there?

You waited for an answer, never receiving one. You were just greeted by another cipher of a message.

W 8:40:Just come

W 8:40:You won’t regret it

You 8:41:And how can you be so sure?

W 8:42:I can guarantee it;)

You couldn’t help but feel a certain way over that text. Although you knew he didn’t want to scare you away, his commanding text felt authoritative to you as well as infuriating. Now that you knew who this guy was, it was easier to target your anger at someone. You didn’t want to give in too early so you tried to play hard to get, knowing you’d been caught in his snare already.

You 8:52:We’ll see then

You set your phone down, thinking you had won for the night. Instead, you were greeted by another text, picking up your phone almost instantly.

W 8:53:I’ll see you there then

He already knew he had you. It showed in his text. Although you didn’t win, you went to bed happy. It’ll be a fun week.

The next day, you came to work once again, not expecting anything. You were hoping for nothing but obviously, others had other plans for you. Sitting on your desk was a jet black box. You opened the box up to find a dress. A beautiful red dress that had lace everywhere. You wanted to take it out of the box but that wasn’t an option. You were at work and you were surprised no one saw it when you took the top of the box off.

You turned your head to find CEO Wang grinning at his computer which made a smile appear on your face. You didn’t want to show how happy you were but it wasn’t often you got gifts. Even less that you got noticed by men. You sat down, and before you knew it, Ella was speeding over to you to ask “What’s in the box?”

You were thinking about how you could tell her without making her scream. You were glad she was excited for you but that was no reason to let the whole office know. Instead you explained to her that she couldn’t scream, squeal, or attract attention. She agreed and you opened the box allowing her to see the contents. You could hear a high squeal threatening to escape but she kept it in. Her eyes grew large and so did her smile.

“I think it’s official, don’t you?”

“What’s official?” you raise an eyebrow questioning her.

“That he freaking likes you. What the hell else?!” she screamed in a whisper.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You blow off the comment, making Ella go back to her desk with a shrug, but inside you think she’s right. At least you’re hoping she’s right. You sit down, looking in his direction once again. He’s trained on his work once again but after you glance at his a few times, he catches on. When you finally gave up on getting his attention, he seems to catch yours.

W 10:32:Guessing you liked it?

You 10:33:How did you know?

W 10:33:You’re still smiling

You automatically tried to hide your smile, fearing he could use your happiness against you. Although you tried, it kept creeping out. You couldn’t help it. For once you were happy. You couldn’t think of a way to retaliate when you knew he was right so you kept your head down, away from his line of sight.

W 10:40:I know your still there

W 10:41:Look at me

The texts surprised you. You weren’t expecting for him to exactly care for where you had gone. You expected him to get back to work and not bother with you until it was over. When you peeked your head over you little cubicle wall, you saw him staring back, a smile on his face and a tiny heart in his hand. If you hadn’t been around, you wouldn’t have found it. You reciprocated his act, and a smile stretching from ear to ear, came over his face. He went back to work, glancing at you every few minutes. You think the party would be fun to g to after all. And hey, no need for dress shopping anymore.

The week had dragged on, the only thing getting you through it were the small texts you and Jackson had been sending each other. Finally, Saturday rolled around and you were readying yourself. Ella had found a date with a guy she had been eyeing for a few weeks so she would go with him. You were getting ready at home and when you were done, you stood back and admired yourself.

The dress hugged your curves and the back was exposed. The front had a low v-lineThe lace was comfortable against your skin and you had done your makeup and hair. You were ready for the night of your life. You were about to make your way out with your coat, keys, and clutch in hand when you heard someone at the door. You weren’t expecting anyone. It was late enough that no one should have been coming around. You walk towards the door, curious of who was standing outside your apartment. When you opened it, you were greeted by no other than the man of the night himself, looking better than ever.

He was wearing a red suit that accentuated every feature. His coat matched your dress but his black t-shirt underneath let his stand different from you. His hair was done, swept over the side in a wavy manner. His color bones were on display, and you were enjoying the view. As you continued to take in the view, Jackson was doing some sightseeing himself. He took in all of how you looked and finally spoke up.

“Wow, you look…amazing. You’re beautiful.” he said with a chuckle.

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks, embarrassed at the compliment.

“So do you.” you say back.

For a few seconds, you stand there watching awkwardly, waiting for someone to say something. You chose to break the silence.

“So the man himself, came to get me?”

He chuckled to himself, thinking about your comment.

“I came because I thought you’d be thankful.”

“I am thankful.” you said with a small push on his shoulder.

“Oh really? Show me then.” he said back.

You froze. You didn’t know how to react so you stopped thinking and let your body move. You took a step forward and allowed your self to kiss him. His lips were soft and they comforted you. He kissed you innocently and slowly. They made you feel like you were in the right hands and soon you were. His arms snaked around your hips, pulling you closer. You got lost in the kiss for a few more seconds before it was time to break it. Out of breath but happy with yourself, you set your keys down, and put on your coat. Your heels clicked on the floor, breaking him from his trance.

“Let’s go Mr.CEO. Wouldn’t want to be late for your own party.”

Once you got to the party, people were surprised that you were, well, you. Or that you had come with your boss. The first half of the night was filled with common socializing. You found Ella and her date and were happy to talk to her about what has happened while the men had a conversation of their own. You were happy that you attended. The food was great, the people were nice, and you came with a great guy.

Eventually, the night was getting quieter and you were talking more to Jackson. They were normal conversations. Your birthday, career goals, and what made you happy. You were surprised he even wanted to listen. When the party started getting rowdy again however, you and he slipped away. You were led through a grand corridor. The walls and floors looked more expensive than anything you’ve seen in person.

When you arrived at room with double doors and gold trimming, you heart was beating a mile a minute. Jackson opened the door and ushered you in, closing and locking the door behind him. You felt out place in the extravagant room so you stood in the middle of the room, very awkwardly.

Jackson made his way to you, slipping off your coat with unsaid permission and wrapping his arms around your waist. The location of your coat had been lost while you were looking at the glint in his eye. The fireplace’s flames, dancing in them, letting you feel a spark. You put your arms around his neck, anticipating his next move.

“Was this your goal the entire time? To get me alone?” you ponder with a raised eyebrow.

He gave a deep chuckle in response, giving you your full answer when he leaned in. He left some space between the two of you, allowing you to fill it and when you did, it felt amazing. His lips were just as soft if not a bit more chapped but the kiss wasn’t innocent like before. He kissed you sensually, with a hunger that wasn’t there before. Before you knew it, a soft moan escaped your lips. One of his hands moved to your neck, pulling you in a bit more.

When he broke away, he trailed his eyes up and down, looking at you with dark eyes.

“You look fucking amazing in that dress.”

Your cheeks got even more flushed, not expecting the compliment. He walked you over to the bed in silence, looking at you every step of the way. When you had fell on the bed, he looked at you with pleading eyes, waiting to take off the dress. When you nodded, he went to work taking it off. It was off before you knew it and he was staring at you intently. You were glad you bought a brand new pair of black, lace panties for tonight but you were also embarrassed. His eyes, made you feel squeamish and nervous. He was a handsome man through and through. No one could deny that. But you weren’t sure about yourself and his staring made it feel worse. You tried to hide yourself with your hands but he wasn’t having it. He gently took your hands away.

“Don’t hide yourself. You’re so beautiful. And I’m lucky *kiss* to *kiss* have *kiss* you *kiss* here.”

His words warmed your heart and his kisses heated your body up even more.

“I don’t think you’re that lucky to be stuck with me.” you said with discontent. You were happy he viewed you this way but he smoothed any uncertainties over soon enough with his actions. His kisses slowly lowered and his breath fanned over your clothed core. You tried to squirm down, trying to make contact with his lips when he moved his lips to your inner thigh. Kissing soft but sensual kisses up and down your thighs. You whimpered, wanting him to make contact with the place that needed most attention when he looked up at your needy, disheveled face.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” he said with a smirk before slowly taking off your soiled panties. His lips soon attached to your swollen bud, sucking lightly from the get-go. His mouth lazily slid through your folds, giving you great pleasure.

“Oh, fuck.”

A string of lengthy moans were spilling from you, music to his ears. Jackson circled your clit and sucked gently to give you just enough pressure. Soon enough, you were feeling that familiar fire in your stomach, wanting you to catch the high the high you were chasing.

“Jackson, Jackson, I’m so close.”

“Keep moaning my name and I’ll give it to you.”

Wanting to get your high, you moaned his name in long and lengthy syllables. He seemed to appreciate your compliance, speeding up and adding a finger. Or two. Eventually, you got the orgasm, you had been wanting. The pleasure flowed through you. You laid there, trying to catch your breath while Jackson stripped himself of everything he had on. You watched him as he undressed, impressed by his muscles. He had a beautiful body to add to his face and you were amazed at how attractive a guy could be.

He brought his body up to kiss your neck this time and you graciously made more room for him. His eagerness pleased you for some reason. His kisses soon turned sloppy but it was fine because you were already drench and ready to go another round. He lined himself up with your entrance and moaned at the feeling of his tip playing at your entrance. He slowly pushed himself inside, watching to see if you were uncomfortable with anything before he continued. He slowly thrust into you in the beginning at a pace you both seemed to find lacking. When you whimpered, urging him to go faster, he definitely complied. He lifted your knees a bit and started moving swiftly. At the rate he was pounding into you, you were definitely getting another orgasm tonight.

After a few more thrusts, his movements were getting sloppy and you knew he was close too. You gave no warning this time, focusing only on the waves of pleasure surging through you in raging waves. Jackson soon followed after with a string of curses falling from his lips. He collapsed on top of you, tired and out of breath. When he caught his breath, he rolled off and covered your bodies with the silky blankets at the end of the bed.

“That was great.” he said with a large smile, moving the covers up to your chin.

“Yeah…wow.” You kept thinking of the orgasm he gave you, hard-hitting and still amazing. When you tried to get up and put on your panties, he pulled you back in the covers asking “Where’re you going?” with furrowed brows.

“To get my underwear.” you playfully smack his chest.

“You don’t need them right now though, stay with me.” he said with a slight pout.

You didn’t want or need the underwear anyway. You rolled back into the covers, allowing him to trap you in his muscular arms.

“So, when’d this happen?” you finally question.

“What do you mean?”

“When’d you notice a nobody?” you said with a small chuckle.

With a furrowed brow, he answered, “Who’s a nobody?”

“You know I mean me.” you said with a slightly playful tone.

“All I see is hardworking *kiss* intelligent *kiss* beautiful *kiss* woman.” he said with a reassuring smile.

You were really hoping these kisses weren’t a habit. If they were, you would fall for them every time.

“You’re embarrassing me. I don’t even see me that way.” you say covering your flushed cheeks with the covers.

He pulled the covers down past your eyes and caressed you cheek saying, “If you don’t see yourself that way, I can help you. And I’d love to embarrass you more. Here, your place, the office, if you’d let me.”

“I think I already did.”

[angeltriestoblog]

I went from reluctant leader to ACTM officer!

Kind of a late update but after what seemed like an endless discernment period and an unforgivably rigorous application process (on my part), I’m officially the Ateneo Association for Communications Technology Management’s Associate Vice President for Documentations! And yes, I’m aware that’s a mouthful so from this point on, I am referring to myself as ACTM’s AVP for Docs.

I honestly did not see this coming though: Freshman Angel stuck out like a sore thumb in her home org. In addition to finding all upperclassmen intimidating as I do with anyone born at least a day before me, I felt like I was just… not feeling it most of the time. All I lacked was a button that read “I really wish I weren’t here right now!” pinned to my shirt. It was only when I was a sophomore, familiar with the organization’s events and able to see them up close that I realized that I didn’t remember going through most of them myself. Although I’m pretty sure I was present because it was mandatory for all new members, I don’t recall going to a general assembly, being briefed on the different departments within the org, and especially being taught what our core competency was. I was very content with doing the bare minimum as a Docs Head: going to meetings to take minutes and do registration, nagging at the project heads and point people to submit the necessary requirements for post-documentations, and smiling shyly and saying “I’m ok!” when people asked me how I was.

Although I was much more active in my second year, I never realized I wanted to increase my level of involvement until I went to LEAP, the three-day leadership training seminar in Zambales I raved about in my first semester recap blog post. It was there when I noticed the home aspect that ACTM prides itself on: everybody—regardless of batch and predetermined social circle—bonding in more ways than one, both with and without the influence of alcohol, just having a great time and joking around like they’ve been friends forever. I saw just how much ACTM was investing in me to help me realize that maybe I could be an officer too. Maybe I could contribute to the great culture that makes us so much of a family. But of course, that thought quickly found its way to the backburner the minute we boarded the bus back to Manila.

I never really saw myself as leader material after several failed stints in my old school: I was the secretary who forgot to ask the teacher to sign the attendance sheet, or the vice president that ran out of the classroom first during earthquake drills when I was supposed to be last in line to check if all appliances were off. (In my defense, it was an act of self-preservation.) I didn’t realize it then while I was busy wreaking havoc in every homeroom class I found myself in but when I finally grew up, for the lack of a better term, I came to the conclusion that being put in charge of a group of people would only bring disastrous consequences and I didn’t want anyone involved in that.

Fast forward to several months later: I had an individual consultation with my boss Chelsea, the previous holder of my current position, to help with her plans in running for vice president of our department. Somewhere along the way, she tapped me to fill her shoes—a request that was met with a high-pitched “WEH?” that probably shocked everyone on the third floor of MVP that day. I had been diligently doing my work for two years, she said, just as long as she has so I knew enough about the processes. Back then, I was very preoccupied with two other extracurricular commitments and had plans of joining three more the next school year. My goals and ambitions were all over the place and I guess it reflected in the way I skirted around the topic because she just patted my knee (throwback to the time when physical contact was still acceptable) and told me to think about it. Real hard.

I guess this lockdown period also served as the time for discernment I needed: I weighed the pros and cons, made the necessary trade-offs, and got the insights of those I trusted, mostly by pestering them with uppercase keyboard smashes. I’d think I had a final decision one day then wake up the next, completely changing my stance. It’s not like I didn’t want to serve—I guess I just wasn’t giving myself permission to believe I could. I can’t really pinpoint when it happened but one day, my brain went: “What the heck. What could possibly go wrong?”

—

After making the decision to run, I felt at peace, no longer overthinking about every single thinking that could possibly go wrong, just eager for the day application season would formally start. Well, that is until I received the actual notification from the Ateneo ACTM page that said a Facebook group for all AVP aspirants had been made. I tossed my laptop aside and started yelling, much to the dismay of my mother who was on the receiving end of all this panic. Over the next few days, I would watch the electoral talk that followed, a webinar of sorts that basically gave a rundown of the process we would have to go through should we want to take on the challenge. 

One of my requirements was a long-ass form complete with questions about myself, my leadership skills, the department, and the organization. I remember looking through the platforms of the Executive Board applicants during the first wave of elections and saying to myself, “Wow, I hope I don’t have to fill up something that long. I would cry my ass off!” only to find out that I would have to submit almost an exact replica of that and truly enough, cry my ass off. While Noelle, our EVP, was glossing over everything, I took these pictures on my laptop’s photo booth to express my frustration and sent them to my friend Julia, who was also watching via Zoom. I was actually very paranoid that I had my video on during the call and would end up exposing my contorted facial expressions to all 70 people watching the livestream. Thankfully, the universe was merciful enough to be on my side at the time.

Believe me, I wanted to get started with the work the minute the virtual meeting ended: I felt like I needed to so everything wouldn’t pile up and paralyze me on the day of the deadline. But even early on, I was already pretty overwhelmed and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything. So I lay down on my bed for the rest of the night and played Ribs by Lorde on repeat. It was an effective coping mechanism then but I instantly regret it the next day once I realized just how much time I had wasted doing nothing when there was so much to be accomplished.

I answered the introspective questions pretty quickly: thanks to my sense of self-awareness, I was able to identify my strengths and weaknesses well. What I really struggled with was the platform. I couldn’t generate any original ideas that I felt could solve the problems I spotted—I had wondered if I could just copy paste Chelsea’s platform and add comments such as “Same” or “RT” on the side and call it a day. Thankfully, this is what individual consultations were for. I contacted Elise, a co-Docs Head from the previous school year, and Gella, my boss back in freshman year and both were kind enough to bounce ideas off me and give me reassurance that the working drafts I had in my mind were actually worth executing. With their insight (and a lot of ice cream), I was able to finish my application form days before I expected to.

I also wrapped up shooting my platform presentation ahead of schedule. I couldn’t find any decent background at home besides this one cabinet but I failed to notice that part of its door was actually faded until I was already done filming. In an attempt to hide it in a way that still appeared on-brand, I slapped some star and cloud stickers on the video and claimed that it matched my own name. The only obstacle I had to overcome was practicing for my panels.

The fact that my question and answer session with the Executive Board was to held be online instead of in-person given our circumstances was supposed to comfort me somehow. But either way, not knowing which answers were going to be expected of me gave me a great deal of anxiety. To stave off this irrational fear, I prepared a Quizlet with 27 potential questions or points for clarification on one side, and my response on the other, which I rehearsed with just the right amount of uh’s and um’s interspersed to make it look as spontaneous as possible. Maybe my greatest sacrifice though was boycotting any TV shows or movies until I was done presenting because even the most mindless programming could take away precious brain cells needed to retain more important information.

On the day of my actual interview, I was feeling pretty confident. I had gone the extra mile by preparing an hour early and recording videos of myself answering my imaginary questions on my laptop camera. This way, I felt like I was simulating the actual experience. But not even this form of planning could have prepared me for the real deal. I wish I could tell you more about how it went but I was so nervous that I blacked out. I vaguely remember puckering my lips and flashing a peace sign every time I didn’t know the answer to something and had to respond with, “I will look into that if I ever get the position.” I also remember that not a single one out of the 27 questions I had committed to memory was asked.

As expected, I was the most relieved when it was over, I didn’t even feel embarrassed until much later on. I got out of my smart casual attire, slipped into some pajamas, watched a movie, and finished the tub of Coffee Crumble waiting in the freezer as a reward. Two days later, I had received a message from Chelsea asking if she could call me. My friend Iverson had said that results are announced to all applicants via phone call before being released to the public at night. It’s not a clear indicator that I was the one they chose, which was horrifying because who wants to be rejected over the phone? My younger self hated Joe Jonas and what he did to Taylor Swift for precisely this reason!

Thankfully, I was only met with good news. Chelsea had told me that I had been chosen by the Executive Board and I was ACTM’s new AVP for Docs. I hadn’t eaten breakfast at the time despite the fact that it was 10 minutes to noon at the time so it took a while for my nutrient-deprived brain to generate the appropriate reaction. The joy kicked in eventually: I jumped up and down and yelled I’M SO HAPPY so many times once the call ended that the words have started to lose meaning.

Since then, I’ve spent my time familiarizing myself with my roles and responsibilities while getting to know everyone else on the team. I’ve had a video call via Google Meets with the people in my department where we leveled off, got to know one another better, and set our goals for the year as we watched Chelsea eat pasta. Very wholesome! EC Wars was also pretty fun: all eight departments of the organization were head-to-head in different challenges. It kinda reminded me of high school intramurals but with less broken friendships. We had to auction one another a la Unsubtle Syota Searching, make a Tiktok introducing our department, its relevance and the roles of each member (which officially launched my career as the org’s official Kris Aquino impersonator), and had a chaotic game of Bring Me through Facebook Messenger. Yes, it’s possible but not if you’re a PLDT subscriber! I also got put in a group with other members of the EC for an activity where we had to make an IMC campaign for a chosen advocacy. As the Mind Readers (named as such because of the multiple instances we sent the exact same message at the same time), we were assigned to tackle sustainable fashion and I have to say that our finished product was, as Dani Rosales herself would call it, “hot”.

This week, we’re on to the more serious stuff: revising internal procedures, refining platform points, etc etc. The fear caused by my self-doubt is further compounded by our current situation, which is keeping us from performing our tasks the way we envisioned we would. But I am a hundred percent confident that since I’m with the right people and we’re all doing the very best we can, it’s going to be one crazy fulfilling year ahead for all of us. I’m endlessly grateful to ACTM for taking a chance on me! Shoutout, of course, to: (1) Chelsea for serving as the final push I needed to decide that serving this organization is what I wanted to do; (2) all my friends who told me I had nothing to worry about while I was being neurotic and who were the first to congratulate me and say that they told me so; and (3) my parents who listened to my rants even if they were 90% org-related jargon.

Wishing you all love and light,

Angel

[euphoricdr3ams]

EXO (OT12) react to love at first sight

Xuimin: You would run into him at his secret coffee shop. The place where he comes to relax from his stressful life.  You walked up to the countered and ordered the same coffee as him. You sat at the edge of the bar. "You have exquisite taste in coffee" he commented. You flashed a small smile and the rest was history as they say. 

Luhan: Backstage is where he first catches your gaze. In the chaos, you stood calm and poised. You gracefully commanded his attention. His manager told him he had a brief interview before the show. However, he hadn't expected you to be so captivating. It clouded his thoughts and made it difficult to focus. 

"You sold out this arena. As a fan, I am proud. Thank you for agreeing to this interview." He paused before responding.

"No, thank you. It has been a delight. I would love to do this again."

Kris: It was an early morning film shoot for him. He walked up to the chair tired and fatigued from the night. There you were pleasant smile and aura. The care you placed while expertly placing makeup on his face. He couldn't help but crack a smile. Once complete, You looked back and admired your work as he admired you. He was already thinking about how beautiful you look wrapped around his arms. 

Suho: Another SM mandated event. Suho was beginning to grow tired of these forced networking events. People just sucking up just to get on top. When you introduced yourself, he felt something different. You spoke of your modeling experiences and how excited you were for this opportunity. He hadn't met someone like you. Many gorgeous individuals come here every day but not many with an intellectual mind to match. He made sure vouch for you for the new video as the main female protagonist. Just to ensure he would see you again and gain more courage to ask you on a date 

"Y/N would be a great addition to our new music video. She fits the concept and has the talent needed to add that extra magic to the video."

Lay: If there was one thing everyone knew about Yixing, he was disorganized. SM made he get a personal assistant after being late to 3 events int he past week. He wasn't exactly pleased with the idea. You quickly changed his mind with your introduction.

“Hello, Mr. Zhang, My name is Y/N. I will be your new assistant. I have gotten your coffee along wth a special homemade treat. You have approximately 30 minutes before we need to go to the radio station for a brief interview. The following events for the day have been shared to your email. The ride should be here in approximately 40 minutes."

He had a second to realize how professional you carried yourself. He noticed how you spoke in a firm but gentle tone. He complained at first, but now he was going to thank Suho for finding a perfect match for him.

BaekHyun: Laughter and smiles can only hide so much. Today he needed someone to pick him up. You were training as a new vocal coach. You accidentally walked in on him. He was sniffling. You didn't want to overstep your boundaries. However, you couldn't just leave him like this.

"You have a fantastic voice. Believe in your talent and you will hit that note."

He smiled at your comment. After the session was over, he treated you to bubble tea. It was the start of the beautiful relationship.

Chen: During his free time, Chen enjoyed dabbling as a radio personality. He arrived a little early today. You were interviewing a new rookie group. Your quick wit and humor impressed him. The jokes you had were hilarious. The rookie group became comfortable with you. He even chuckled a few times. During the break, He stopped in gave his compliments. 

"You are doing great. Stop by my interview at 1 PM. I'd love to have you join in today as a special co-host" He smoothly said sliding his number on a piece of paper. You grabbed it and smiled. He knew he needed someone with your wit around.

Chanyeol: Chanyeol is a musical genius, not a technological one. When his music engineering equipment broke, he nearly had a meltdown.You stood behind the counter and took the laptop. Distress was written across his face. You welcomed him with a bright smile. After about 40 minutes, You switch out one minor part. The laptop came back to life. He fell in love.

"You should be careful about overheating. Our system could potentially lose your work.  No need to worry." You said with a warm smile." I suggest you invest in a laptop fan. Install the upgrade. It backs up everything to the cloud." You calmed his worries. During a distressful time, you brought a smile to his face. He watched in awe thinking about matching couple outfits already.

"(Y/N), you were such a delight. If you aren't busy, I'd love to hang out with you." You flipped the receipt over and saw his number. You wrote your number on his copy. The rest was history as they say.

Kyungsoo: As the cooking mastermind, He enjoyed trying new cuisine from all across Seoul. He had heard a lot of buzz about your pastry shop. He strolled up to the counter and asked you what you recommend. You gave him his signature treat. From his reaction, You could tell he loved it. What you could not see is that he loved you. Kyungsoo went back to that pastry shop every chance he could to see you. Every day he would practice how he would eventually ask you on a date. 

Tao: You were an up and coming designer working in China. Your client today was Tao. You stressed every single detail. Tao had to maintain his look. The outfit was presented to him. He fell in love with it. It was his style. After the shoot, He had to meet you. You were working in the back. Your mind focused on the next outfit. 

"The clothes were amazing. You have a good eye for fashion. I will be reaching out to you again. We're going for hotpot. Come it's on me." 

Kai: You were given a chance to pitch your choreography for the new EXO video to Kai. He watched as your body moved to the music. The way you flowed. The way you embodied the feel of the song. Kai was beyond impressed. You deathly glance made him fall in love.He gave a standing ovation at the end. 

“You were amazing. I’m going to vote for your choreography for the song. Let's get ice cream. It's my treat."

Sehun: Saturday evenings were always busy at the shop. It was never like this. The parade had increased the amount of foot traffic to the store creating long lines. Despite, the bad attitudes from the wait. You remained your composure. You put the same attention and detail to each drink. Sehun caught a glance at his bubble tea princess. The drink that the perfect balance of ingredients. The pearls weren’t too cold. The initial sip was the most satisfying. Sehun came back the next day to properly introduce himself to the person who stole his heart with one drink.

The first reaction is done. Hope you all enjoyed it -XOXO Admin YOLO

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 1x04-- Henceforth Known As Property

Thoughts on 1x04 under the cut!

The episode begins with an image of the schtup list from last week, which is… fine but not engaging. Maia is annotating it in a crowded elevator. That makes sense! Why wouldn’t you take a confidential document, which you obtained illegally, pertaining to an ongoing investigation on to a crowded elevator at your workplace?

A woman offers Maia unsolicited cooking advice. She’s confused. Another woman jumps in to dispute the first woman’s advice. Maia remains confused. She exits the elevator, and Lucca greets her with information about a fertility case she’ll be working on.

Maia says that’s good, but Lucca realizes she’s a bit shaken and asks if she’s okay. Lucca needs Maia to find precedents for the case, then adds, “And tell me if you’re getting some bad-mouthing.” “If I’m getting…?” Maia asks. “Well, people say things. You know, sometimes people don’t know better,” Lucca explains. When Maia asks if people are talking, Lucca responds, “No. I mean, no more than what you said.” Sorry, does this mean that Lucca, who actually knows Maia, believes that an unverified twitter feed with the bio “Daddy’s little lesbian” is an account Maia is involved with?

Before Lucca can explain further, Barbara pulls her into a meeting.

Marissa knows what’s up: “It’s not your twitter feed, is it?” she says to Maia. Maia is still confused, so Marissa shows her.

“It’s hard to get excited about work when people call you lesbo behind your back.” -- @MaiaRindellSays. Yes. Because real Maia would definitely tweet about her workplace in the middle of a scandal under her real name. This sounds believable.

(I won’t get stuck too much on this point; I was in a fandom once where a 12 year old impersonated someone on Twitter and frequently tweeted about her own middle school homework and people still believed she was a 40 year old celebrity.)

(I don’t know where this music is from!!! Someone find it, please!)

The profile for @MaiaRindellSays (which is not a real account, boooo! The writers USED to make real accounts for their featured twitter trolls, like @Upriser7!) reads: “Daddy’s little lesbian. Love life and never change. YOLO.” I mean that sounds totally fake but okay.

This twitter account—which we later learn is a bot set up years ago—must be a super smart bot if it knows to tweet Maia’s feelings about her dad going to jail.

Fake Maia also tweets about canning fruit, and I wish they’d given her a different hobby because every time anyone says “canning” I think they’re going to summon Louis Canning and I’d rather they didn’t.

Fake Maia talks about sex too!

“Do you have any enemies?” Marissa asks Maia. Maia has a lot of enemies, Marissa! (Here’s a better question: does Maia have any friends? I understood when Alicia—who was in her early 40s in TGW season 1 (which took place in 2009-2010), was technologically inept, and was kind of a loner—didn’t know when internet things were happening. But would Maia really be so disconnected? Is she making an effort to unplug after those harassing calls? Are friends not willing to trust her? Do they think it’s too awkward to reach out? Are Amy’s friends reaching out to her? Why aren’t we seeing more about this side of the scandal? YMMV but to me, these questions are far more interesting than tracking down a twitter troll.)  

“It’s the scandal,” Maia realizes. “What do I do?”

Marissa says the way to track down the fake is to tweet to her. “I’m gay and like canning, too. We should meet up. :-)” Marissa DMs fake Maia.

COTW time! Case stuff happens!

I’m amused that the client’s last name is Salano, which I kept hearing as Solano at first, and her case is a dispute about eggs. Jane the Virgin, anyone? I’m sure that show could find a way to connect Laura Salano to Raf and Petra.

One thing I like about the case: Laura is a friend of Barbara’s. Another thing I like: the RBK team on this case is all female.

Barbara calls Diane in to help on the case, and once Diane leaves, Barbara moves closer to the client. That’s when it becomes clear they’re friends. “So you’re expanding?” Laura asks, referring to Diane. “Girl…” is all Barbara can say. “Explain,” Laura says. And then we cut away from them, and that’s fine, because we already know how Barbara feels about this. But this is one of those little “throwaway” scenes that end up mattering a lot to a show. Seeing Barbara around a long-time friend clues us in on who Barbara is outside of the office, even if all the information we’re really getting here is that Barbara has friends. (And, uh, that means a lot in this universe, because a lot of the characters don’t seem to have friends.)

Diane spies a man in Adrian’s office. She asks Marissa who it is. She has a suspicion, but needs Marissa to confirm. Marissa tries to be inconspicuous… and knocks a painting off the wall. Adrian and the man—Mike Kresteva, the Lying Liar—turn to look at her.

“Mike Kresteva,” Marissa tells Diane. (It makes sense for Marissa to recognize him; she’s Eli’s daughter after all.) Diane gets worried, and instructs Marissa to pull Adrian out of the meeting.

Marissa and Mike make eye contact. I wonder if Mike recognizes her. It would make sense if he did.

“Mike Kresteva. What’s he doing here?” Diane asks Adrian once he’s left the meeting. Adrian doesn’t know yet and wants to know why Diane is alarmed. “One of the partners at my firm, Alicia Florrick, knew him. He made her life hell,” Diane explains, accurately.

I don’t think we’ve ever seen Diane interact with Kresteva before, though he would’ve been a figure she’d heard a lot about, both through the gubernatorial race (she represented Peter in that voter fraud case!) and through Alicia. This Alicia reference is a necessary one. Diane doesn’t fear Kresteva because she disagrees with his politics; she fears him because she’s heard Alicia’s stories. I doubt Diane knows the anecdote about Alicia calling Kresteva Hitler and to his face and then telling him to die chocking on his own blood because she knows what she actually says to him doesn’t matter one bit, but, yeah. Kresteva’s that awful.

Anyway, Diane is warning Adrian that Kresteva is a Lying Liar.

The scariest thing about Kresteva, I think, is that he’s totally aware he’s lying. He just doesn’t care. He’s not gullible or easily confused. No—he’s calculated and cruel.

“I can handle myself,” Adrian tells her. Yeah. Sure. Diane isn’t satisfied with that answer and absentmindedly hands Marissa a sheet of paper. Marissa has to remind her to explain—a nice way of conveying how consuming and intense Diane’s dread of interacting with Kresteva is.

Kresteva is now on a task force about police accountability. He’s a fictional character in a fictional world, but that still makes me want to cry. The first time we met Kresteva, in W319 (Blue Ribbon Panel), he was making excuses for and shutting down inquiry into a cop shooting and then framing an unarmed black man. (That’s still one of the most eerily prescient episodes of TGW. The cop in that episode was named Zimmerman… and the episode filmed right before Trayvon Martin was murdered.)  

Maia and Marissa are still waiting for a reply from the Twitter account. (Wouldn’t a bot reply instantly? HOW DO TWITTER BOTS WORK? I’m almost curious enough to go down a Google rabbit hole!)

FakeMaia tweeted back. She wants a picture. So, Marissa goes into her “photostream,” which she keeps on her work laptop for occasions like this (what are you into, Marissa!?), and selects a picture of some random stock image girl. Maia wants Marissa to get a photo back from the bot. The bot sends one back instantly. Several, actually. They’re artsy images of a naked woman who doesn’t look like Maia but whom Maia says is really her.

So wait. There’s a bot on Twitter that carries on conversations, is up to date with the news, has hobbies, and just sends nude pics of Maia if you ask!? And it was created by some random photographer, on his own, several years ago? Is this supposed to be a play on that racist Microsoft bot from a while back?! Ohmygod I’m gonna stop nitpicking. Or, at least, I’ll try. I’m not sure if I’m more concerned that this could happen or skeptical of the plot.

At least Maia knows who’s behind the account now: she remembers the photographer. (Hey, they did this plotline on Desperate Housewives!)

“This feels like old times,” Kresteva remarks as he steps into Diane’s office. Again, not sure they ever met on screen. “And what line are you selling today, Mike?” Diane asks. “Why is everybody so suspicious of me?” Kresteva wonders. Hmmm. Why indeed.

He informs Diane of his new position. She refuses to give advice or say much. Kresteva says he’s changed. Sure. “How is your son doing, Mike?” Diane tries to change the subject. Turns out Kresteva’s son (named Jax; I remember this because I’ve been thinking about characters named Jax because of the Rindells) passed away. Kresteva almost seems like a human being telling his story.

The second he leaves her office, Diane Chumhums (HIIIIiiI CHUMMIE I LOVE YOU YOU SILLY LITTLE GOPHER) to determine whether or not Kresteva’s son really died. She hates that she has to look it up, but she does. Turns out Kresteva was telling the truth about that, sadly.

Diane goes to the fertility clinic to follow up on something COTW related. The doctor mistakes her for a patient. Diane laughs that off—“I’m not here for myself.”

Case stuff happens.

There’s a joke that goes on for way too long involving a doctor who’s hard of hearing. It’s supposed to be funny. It is not funny.

Sleazy Twitter Bot Bro is now a photographer who specializes in portraits of children. Gross.

Maia is, in theory, on the case of the week, but aside from the one scene where Lucca asks her to do a bit of research, her main work task seems to be investigating her personal life and using firm resources (computers, support staff) to do so. Either that, or she has a really generous lunch hour.

Marissa is comfortable being very assertive around Bro. When she speaks up on Maia’s behalf, Bro wonders if she’s Maia’s new girlfriend. Sounds like someone’s precious masculinity was wounded when Maia came out. Boo hoo. Marissa explains she’s not, “but that doesn’t matter.”

They broke up four years ago. I wonder if Maia’s bisexual or if she realized after (or during) the relationship she was gay?

The twitter bot was set up two years ago, which means Bro was bitter and resentful for two years. (Also means that Amy and Maia, if we believe the writers requested a photo of Amy and Maia for the icon, have been together at least 2 years.)

“What’s a Twitterbot?” Maia asks. … exactly what it sounds like, Maia. What weird sort of bubble does Maia live in!? (Alternatively: writers, it’s never a good look to make your characters more ignorant than they realistically should be for the sake of exposition.)

The bot will duplicate itself if he turns it off. Wha?

When Bro tells Maia to “tell your girlfriend to fix it,” she slaps him. Yay, Maia! (If this happened in the first episode of the show, I’d be worried about the series finale. I think we’re safe because it’s episode four.)

Maia and Marissa return from their non-work related adventure at the same time Diane and Lucca get back from working on the case. The subpoena guy (I’m sure there’s a technical name for this—process server?) who’s a crew member or something is in the RBK lobby, subpoenaing everyone who worked on the police brutality case in F1x01. (At least, I assume that’s why he’s serving them, since he doesn’t subpoena Barbara or anyone else.)

There’s something missing from the Maia subplot—and, really, from the way Maia’s been written so far in these first four episodes (well, mostly just these last two, so there’s hope!). Whenever the show could explore how Maia’s feeling or what she’s thinking or how she’s doing at work, it instead goes for a plot-driven conspiracy. Twists and turns are fun, but Maia’s a new character. These plots don’t give me much of a sense of who Maia is or how she’s coping with the aftermath of the scandal. Consider, for a minute, what the show would look like if Maia’s parents were obviously guilty. Instead of having to wait for the reveal of what really happened (which I don’t care about at all), we’d be dealing with Maia realizing the betrayal that definitely occurred. We’d be seeing her lose her innocence and rebuild instead of watching her investigate various family members we as the audience have no reason to trust. Maia would be the focus, not the facts of the scandal. Same goes for the harassment. Why can’t it just be some random person on Twitter who made an account, and Maia has to learn to steel herself against it? Why does it have to be an elaborate Twitter bot that also makes Fake News?

I keep coming back to the way TGW season 1 worked for Alicia. First, and I didn’t realize how smart this was until TGF began, Peter committed two crimes: one against the law and one against his family. Alicia even makes that distinction in the pilot. She doesn’t care as much about the crimes he allegedly committed, and she (and we) don’t know if he really did it. What she does know, and what we do know, is that he cheated on her with prostitutes. Since there are two scandals there, Alicia can lose her trust in Peter because of one (the cheating) while the writers are free to play around with the mystery/conspiracy of the other. But we don’t have that with the Rindells. Their scandal is all doubt.

While I’m on this kick of comparing the writing for Alicia to the writing for Maia, I’d also like to mention W109, Threesome. That episode has a plot that’s similar to Maia’s in this episode. Alicia is the last to know about Peter’s call girl’s appearance on Chelsea Handler’s show. Zach and Grace know about it. Peter’s legal team and publicity team know about it. Everyone in the office knows. It’s not until Alicia’s assistant pulls up the video that she finds out. We see Alicia react to the interview; how much it pains her to be called “frigid.” Alicia’s called to meet with Will and Diane before she can even finish watching the clip, and we get a great little sequence of Alicia walking through the firm, her confidence waning as she notices everyone’s eyes on her. Her whole demeanor changes completely from what we saw as she walked in to work. Will and Diane are talking about damage control when she arrives, and we can tell from the way Alicia’s moving she expects that they’re going to talk to her about the video. (I’m rewatching this now, and holy shit, guys, she even does the thing with her hands to calm herself down. You know, that thing she does in the last minutes of the series finale. SHE DOES IT HERE TOO.) She only relaxes, slightly, when she realizes they’re talking about Stern’s scandal, not hers. And the whole episode plays out with Alicia trying to figure out what’s going on with Peter, how to make Amber stop, and how to talk to her children about their father’s sex life. And, oh yeah, she’s on a case the whole time, too. I could talk for hours about Alicia’s arc in W109, and how the episode deepens the audience’s understanding of Alicia by forcing her to shift between so many environments, and how the central problem of Amber Madison’s eagerness to spread lies is resolved as an issue between Alicia and Peter, not as a convoluted plot. But I won’t, because I think the example of that first scene (which you really should rewatch!) illustrates my point: the writing for Maia lacks this nuance. The writing for Maia is mostly about plot. The writing for Alicia used plot to develop the character.

Lucca waits for Colin in the bar near the courthouse. She’s already ordered a burger and cut it in half for him. What’s their ship thing going to be? Burger and Fries? Onions and Peppers? (Note: this is not a serious question.)

Colin thinks Lucca’s there to flirt, but she’s there for work. But they don’t get to work before Colin invites her on a date to get milkshakes. Something about his therapist. This is cute, but not really anything I need to get into in-depth.

Lucca asks Colin about the subpoena; he says he’ll look into it.

Marissa made a breakthrough in the Twitterbot fiasco. She contacted Twitter and they froze it right away, which is definitely how Twitter deals with harassment. (I actually don’t know if this is realistic, but I’ve seen so much about how ineffective Twitter is at suspending trolls that this seems too fast, even though it also seems totally logical.) (But won’t the bot remake itself?)

Maia and Marissa high five, adorably.

Case stuff happens. This case is interesting.

Alma Hoff is back! So is just Stanek, who is still collecting electronics in a trash can.

Yesha gets a news alert from Chumhum about Maia being fired. She phones Maia to ask if it’s true. The news source is obviously fake, but I can’t tell if it’s Fake News or Real News For These Characters But Fake Because Copyright Laws.

Maia asks Adrian if she’s being fired. “I barely even know who you are,” Adrian replies, shooing her away. Heh. Wouldn’t Maia know it’s a lie from the fact that she didn’t call her workplace anti-gay?

Now there’s a story about Maia buying $350,000 in jewelry. Ah, it’s one of those sites. The ones that generate ridiculous stories about famous people that have no connection to the truth at all.

Now a Grand Jury is in session, and I think this insert of “GRAND JURY IN SESSION” is lifted from a TGW ep, probably 314 or something from season 7.

Diane is on the stand; Kresteva is questioning her. He starts off by framing her answers as uncooperative, and then begins to flat out lie. “What could be wrong with my motives?” he asks. LOL. I CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING. (Even if it weren’t Kresteva specifically… there are still a lot of good reasons to be suspicious!)

“I think you tend to lie,” Diane responds. Kresteva goes after her about the money the firm makes off of the police brutality cases. It’s 30% of the firm’s annual income. Well that’s a cynical suggestion.

Kresteva asks Diane if she said that the problem was that “the people of Cook County hated African-Americans.” Wait, I thought she refused to answer in his version of events? Also, what does he mean by the People of Cook County? Does he mean in the legal sense (The People vs. ___) or does he mean that Diane said that Cook County residents are racists? What narrative is he trying to spin—that Diane was uncooperative, that Diane wants police brutality to continue so she can profit, or that Diane made sweeping accusations of racism? All of the above? Does it matter? Is the point to scare the firm away from these cases or to actually accomplish something with the Grand Jury? (I think it’s the former.)

Anyway, the real point of this scene is that KRESTEVA IS A LYING LIAR.

“Are you saying that my notes from our meeting are incorrect?” Kresteva asks. THIS GUY IS SO FULL OF BULLSHIT, I NEED TO WATCH THE GIF OF ALICIA TELLING HIM TO DIE CHOCKING ON HIS OWN BLOOD, PLEASE A FEW TIMES NOW. Kresteva is so full of shit that his lies don’t even make sense! His whole shtick rests on the hope that the grand jury finds him trustworthy! If they don’t, then why shouldn’t Diane suspect him? What should it matter that his “notes” don’t match what Diane’s saying? They’re his notes. He could’ve written them whenever he felt like it; he could’ve written down whatever he wanted! It’s not a video. It’s not an audio recording. It’s not a print-out of an email. The people who say “believe me” (or variations of that) the most are the ones to watch out for.

Kresteva’s lies, which seemed outrageous back in 2012, play differently in 2017, don’t they?

This scene is very hard to watch because of the emotional toll it takes on Diane as she realizes nothing she says or does will help her out of this hole. Kresteva will just make up more lies, and when he does let the truth through, he’ll spin it to make Diane look bad. Diane’s mistake about Jax seems malicious when he questions her. Her denial of the conversation reads as guilt. How could Kresteva have made up all of that information, the jury must wonder. Isn’t it more to this lady’s advantage to lie than it is to the head of the task force?

Diane says Kresteva was in her office for six minutes. I don’t get why she says this, since we saw the full meeting and it wasn’t six minutes, so…

Diane’s furious when she gets back to work. “He’s setting us up,” she announces to the others. Adrian understands why: Kresteva wants to reduce the number of police brutality cases by having fewer cases filed. I presume this means not just shutting down RBK’s cases, but also making other firms fear taking them on.

Lucca goes to Colin to investigate further. “Yeah, he lies,” Colin acknowledges. “Does your boss know that?” Lucca wonders. Good question. Colin agrees to help out, which is very nice of him. (So far, Colin feels a lot like a flirtier Finn Polmar to me.) Lucca says he seems like a good guy and reminds him they have a milkshake date. They can’t have sex yet because it would seem like a quid pro quo. “Fuck, I hate being a good guy,” Colin jokes as Lucca leaves.

Case stuff happens. I like Judge Stanek.

Colin does bring Kresteva’s methods up with the boss. The boss hears Kresteva’s strategy for how to reduce the amount of cases and doesn’t care about (agree with?) the ethics of it. Colin tries a different angle: the firm is all African-American; won’t that look bad? Kresteva argues it’s not all black because of Diane. LOL DIANE IS ONE PERSON. (And even if you include Maia and Marissa, that’s still a small fraction of the total employees.)

Colin must have pretty high standing/be pretty good at his job if he can bring this up at work. Kresteva gets a small warning, but he’s allowed to continue.

“It’s fake news,” Jay tells Maia. The original twitter monster has morphed into a lot of fake news all across the internet.

Yesha tries to stop it by getting a TRO against Bro, but he says it won’t work because his servers aren’t in Cook County. Yesha tells Maia there’s nothing more they can do. “Not legally,” Yesha repeats. Then she leaves, as Maia, Marissa, and Jay all think of illegal ways to stop Fake News.

Marissa has an idea—create fake news about Bro. Wouldn’t it be easier to just phone his boss? WHY ARE YOU GUYS USING YOUR WORK COMPUTERS TO CREATE FAKE NEWS WITH EXPLICIT CONTENT? WHY AREN’T YOU GUYS WORKING?! (Yes, this has gotten under my skin, why do you ask?)

Bro’s boss buys the fake news. Would that really happen? I can see him being fired because it looks bad, but being fired because your boss believed ILoveFakeNewsDotCom or whatever seems strange.

Case stuff happens.

Bro shows up at Maia’s office to announce, “You’re ruining my life.” HYPOCRITE. (Though, I do have a question: if the fake news is no longer spreading because of him, what is this accomplishing other than revenge?)

He calls her a bitch. Hell. No.

Luckily, Adrian intervenes and Bro calms down. “You drop your news articles and I’ll drop mine?” Bro says. So they are his news articles? What happens when someone else gets the same idea?

“At this firm, we stand up for each other, Maia,” Adrian tells Maia after she thanks him. Awwww. (So does that mean he’s cool with her doing all of this on the clock, using work computers, and pulling Marissa and Jay into it, too?)

YES!!! A break from the Diane/Barbara tension!!!!! This week, they’re drinking together after a rough day in court. Diane’s sad. Barbara, too.

“Do you regret not having children?” Barbara asks Diane. I can’t believe we got through seven seasons of TGW without Diane ever answering this question. That’s cool!

“Sometimes,” Diane responds honestly. “Not often.”

“When are the sometimes?” Barbara wonders. This feels a lot to me like Barbara trying to decide if she should try to have kids before it’s too late.

“With my husband. I mean, it’s too late for us now, but, uh, but I look at him and I wonder what, you know, what his son would be like. Or my daughter,” Diane explains, breaking my heart. (She and Kurt are totally going to reconcile, right?!)

“Yeah. It’s interesting,” Diane continues, unprompted. “Most people think I didn’t want kids, and that’s why I made my work my life. What they don’t realize, it’s… it’s really just the opposite.” I definitely assumed that Diane prioritized work over having kids. I’m not entirely sure what Diane means by “the opposite” but I think she’s saying that kids didn’t seem to be happening for her, so she had time to throw herself into work, and then it was too late. I wonder if Diane would’ve considered IVF if it had been more common when she was in her 30s/40s.

Diane and Barbara talk a little bit more, then Diane finishes her drink and goes back to her office. She phones Kurt. He doesn’t pick up (or does she hang up too quickly? I think it’s the former but compressed for time). I CAN’T WAIT FOR NEXT WEEK.

Then Diane has an epiphany: ENGLAND.

“We dialed 44 and then the number,” Barbara retorts when Alma asks how they called an agency in England. LULZ.

Case stuff happens; Laura wins! (Also, who knew Alma Hoff had a pottymouth?)

I barely talked about it, but this was a very complex and compelling case.

The Fake News hasn’t stopped. Shocker. Yesha has figured out that now Reddit is making fake news because people on the Internet also hate Maia.

Now Yesha and Marissa both advise Maia to drop it. So she does. But… Fake News has Real Consequences.

Someone brings the Fake News about Maia, which is now in the Cook County Vindicator which I thought was supposed to be a legit paper with actual reporters but whatever, to Kresteva’s attention. He’s looking for any ways to go after RBK, and this news article—real or fake—plays right into his story.

His white board of RBK targets consists exclusively of people we know (and excludes Reddick—who is Reddick, anyway? Is he still there?), including Amy. “Hired for SA ties?” reads a post-it next to Maia’s picture.

So… that’s what’s coming next. All the conspiracies come together! That means it’s time for ELSBETH TASCIONI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Seriously, Elsbeth is the one good thing about the unnecessary conspiracy plots The Good Shows like to do.)

[writing--ramblings]

Protector PT. 1

Characters: Derek x Reader

Summary: You are Derek’s long time girlfriend, with no knowledge of the supernatural. 

A/N: This first chapter is before any craziness ensues. It’s kind of giving Derek the life he’s always wanted.

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You sighed as you looked at the clock 11:39PM flashed bright red. This had become a routine and you didn’t like it. You watched as the store bought marinara sauce began to boil. He’d been coming home late more and more; later and later, you began cooking later and later. Once the sauce was done, you took the meatballs out of the small oven that the trailer provided and mixed the pasta in. Why did it have to be this way? Nearly every night you found yourself serving separate plates and putting the second one in the microwave, tonight was no different. It was almost sad how  more often than not you sat in front of the TV with your dinner, watching a rented movie from the video store on your crappy 20" television than in front of your beautiful brooding boyfriend. Who are you kidding? Hell it was sad.

An annoying song was playing. Then again. And it began again. You peeled your eyes open and recognized the title sequence of the DVD you’d been watching, pressing play just to make it stop. Checking your phone you saw that it was 3:13AM, you had fallen asleep. You rolled on your side and lay awake, thinking about your current situation. How did you go from being a librarian in Portland, Oregon with promising references of a promotion, you might add, to a having a 3 day a week 5 hour a day bookstore job in a nowhere town in Nebraska? Your thoughts would have to wait, because at this moment in time headlights shone through your window signalling that he was home.

You listened as the engine cut off, sputtering as it did. You listened as he opened the car door and heard his boots hit the gravel as he traveled the short distance to the door of your trailer. You listened as he got inside and sighed as he sat on the couch and took off his work boots. You listened as he heated his food up in the microwave for less than 30 seconds. You held in a giggle as he ate it in less than five minutes. You listened as he cleaned all the dishes that were used for tonight’s dinner and the few cups in the small sink, a smile appeared on your lips, you taught him well. You listened as he stripped down to his underwear. You felt the blanket lift and let out a breath, you didn’t realize you were holding as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled himself to you.

“Thank you baby, it was delicious” he kissed the back of your head. He always knew when you were awake, somehow.

“How’d it go?” You stopped asking how work went, it killed him to lie to you.

“Nothing tonight.” He mumbled curtly. That’s really all you ever got out of him. “I love you” no more questions.

“I love you back” you whispered and nestled against him tighter as you fell asleep. ——— “Get up, baby” Derek pushed his nose in the crook of your neck and took a deep inhale, you smiled to yourself, he did this everyday, he says he wants to keep your scent when you’re away. It was strange but, for some reason it comforted you, it made you feel special.

“Nooo, work is gross” you whined and rolled to face him, you weren’t being serious… Not completely at least. He chuckled and kissed your shoulder.

“You don’t have to work, you know” he always tried to convince you to stay home.

“And do what all day? Watch every DVD in the video store? Pretty sure I’m almost there” you scrunched your nose.

“True. Plus, who are all those old men gonna flirt with?” he let out a rythmic laugh and pulled you on top of him so you were straddling him.

“You’re right, it is my civic duty after all.” You flipped your hair dramatically. You leaned down and kissed him softly, his lips moving with yours in unison.

After you both pulled away, you climbed off of Derek and grabbed your clothes for the day, jeans and a simple long sleeve shirt with three buttons at the top. You placed them on top of the toilet in the tiny restroom of your trailer and took a quick 10 minute shower, any longer and you’d get bombarded with ice cold water. After getting dressed and doing your hair and makeup you walked over to Derek who handed you a breakfast sandwich, you took it greatfully.

As you began eating, you thought back to last night. “Why’d you get home so late?” You paused. “Again.” He needed to see how annoyed you were.

“I’m sorry [Y/N], I didn’t think it would take that long” he rubbed the back of his neck and looked down.

“What? What were you doing?” You sat in the dining area, he was always so secretive. Nearly two and a half years into a relationship with this man and he still couldn’t tell you about his job. He’d made up some story about being a wild animal researcher and tracker, a story he knew that you knew was a lie. Wild animal researchers don’t look like that. But, you dropped it.

“You know I can’t tell you” he looked at you with pleading eyes. “Not yet” your eyes scanned his face and you stood, sighing as you did.

“It better be soon,” you walked up to him and placed your hands on both his arms “This is the third town we’ve lived in, in five months Der. I need to know what we’re running from or who you’re searching for. I love you, and you can’t change that, no matter what you tell me” his eyes watered but, he never let the tears fall out.

“I love you, I love you so much. I have to protect you, I will tell you soon, I promise” his arms snaked around your body and he pressed his lips to your hair, you both stayed like that for a while.

“I have to get to work” you pulled away and kissed his lips “but you promised” you reminded him and put on your boots, “I’m taking the truck” you told him as he walked back to the bedroom to go back to sleep, presumably.

You drove to work and sat behind the counter. Working at the bookstore wasn’t very exciting, usually it was just the older men and women, a few teenagers and a couple people your age came in to the store, mostly because you were the only place in town with wifi and a few computers. Nothing to it, you opened your laptop and used it to update your social media.

Having a great time traveling with the beuax.

Accompanying the post was a photo of you two, well, of your silhouettes, Derek didn’t want anyone to see his face for your protection, which was okay, you weren’t too much of a social media maven anyhow. But sometimes it was hard not being able to show off a man that fine. The day went off without a hitch and when 3pm came ‘round, you were surprised to see Derek walk in with just​ an undershirt on, his shirt draped over his shoulder, he’d walked the 3 miles it took to get there without breaking a sweat. Janie, your nineteen year old co-worker, began blushing profusely.

“Who is that and where can I get one?” She whispered in your ear and you laughed, it’s been nearly three months since you lived in this town and Derek was rarely seen.

“That one belongs to me” you tossed your bag over your shoulder and smiled.

“Ooohh, get it, girl” she gave you a wink and you shook your head walking over to Derek.

“Well, this is unexpected” you watched as he flicked his fingers along the spines of a few books.

“Good, I was trying to surprise you.” He looked down at you, amusement showing through his eyes. “I just wanted to see you” something was happening. He pressed his lips to yours and before you got a chance to deepen the kiss Janie cleared her throat.

“Janie, Derek, Derek, Janie.” You introduced them and Janie gave a small wave, he gave a nod and looked ready to go. You left the store and hopped into your truck and headed back to what you called home.

——— Your legs were draped across Derek’s lap and he was using your legs to hold his plate of pizza. Both of you were watching the screen,eager to know what came next. Derek hadn’t watched a ton of movies when he was younger, his family was more of the outdoorsy type, at least from what you knew. So whenever he got the chance to watch anything he was enamored with it, pausing if he had to get up, rewinding if he missed a line, it was quite cute, actually.

“How come only bad guys are shown pooping in movies?” You asked once the movie finished.

“What?” He looked at you quizzically a smile playing on the edge of his lips.

“Seriously! You never see any good guys pooping but like, the bad guy always dies on the toilet or something” you remarked, sneaking a bite of his pizza. His laugh was beautiful and hearty, a deep rumble coming from his chest, you couldn’t help but follow with one of your own. He opened his mouth to respond but then stood abruptly, opening the trailer door.

“Oh!” The redhead woman yelled, surprised. You stood behind Derek, curious. “Well, you just about scared me half to death!” Her southern accent thick as she held her hand to her chest and threw in a little chuckle. Being scared half to death didn’t stop her eyes from scoping out his body.

“How can we help you?” Derek said quickly, you giggled softly and pushed his shoulder, reminding him to be nice. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and his posture softened immediately at the touch. Anchor, that’s what he called you, that’s what you were to him. It was hard to understand at first but, he says you bring him back to where he needs to be.

“Forgive him. Straight to the point. This one” you offered a smile and patted his chest, her eyes lingered on it for a second and then went back to your faces.

“Well, some of us just noticed that y'all haven’t been to the monthly potluck the past two months, and I just wanted to personally invite ya” she smiled and Derek remained tight lipped.

“Oh wow, that sounds great, when is it?” You asked, hell if you were gonna stay here, you may as well make a few friends.

“Oh well, it started about thirty minutes ago” she pointed over to the group of people dancing, eating, hanging about. You wanted to go.

“We don’t have a dish” both of you looked at Derek when he spoke. Your furrowed your eyebrows and gave him your best 'Derek staredown’, basically trying to mimick Derek when he gets stern. He sighed “Can we bring beer?” He gave her his best friendly smile. –

“So what do you do?” You asked Derek as you were both getting a little more dressed for the potluck. Shirlene, you’d learned the redheads name, had gone to tell some of the neighbors the good news.

“I’m a nocturnal animal researcher” he tilted his head at you.

“No one’s gonna believe that lie” you smiled at him and took a few steps towards him. “We’d have much better digs, if that were true.” You kissed his chin when you reached him. “Plus, what would you need all this muscle for?” You smacked his arm.

“I’ll come up with something” he bit your bottom lip softly, you loved when he did that, it was so subtle, but so longing “How long have you known?”

“Hmmm… Probably after our six month anniversary, you came to mine with a ripped shirt and dried blood on your pants” you smiled and smoothed his shirt.

“Didn’t think you’d noticed that” he muttered

“Of course I did silly, it’s not an everyday occurrence” you rolled your eyes and put your shoes on as Derek shrugged his leather jacket over his dark blue short sleeve shirt, only he could wear such simple attire and look so put together. You wore a white plaid button down with leggings and black boots. You both left the trailer and made the short walk to the potluck.

Before you arrived Derek whispered, “Don’t eat anything and don’t drink anything that I don’t give you.” He kissed your shoulder. You arrived at the party before he could hear your protest. Always so protective, it brought a smile to your face.

“Derek! [Y/N]!” Shirlene squealed and ran over, hugging you both. Derek excused himself to get drinks as Shirlene began introducing you to the girls, he came back and gave you some type of wine cooler and was dragged away by a guy named Barry.

The women that you were introduced to were nice enough, there was this woman though, Katrina, her name was… She was odd, cryptic.

“So how did you two meet?” Katrina asked watching Derek, you glared at her, you weren’t shy when it came to him.

“He was traveling for work and he kept bothering me” you smiled “The rest is history” you looked at the man whose eyes were trained on you and tilted your bottled towards him, he did the same.

Two years ago you’d been working as a librarian in Portland, when a scruffy man with broad shoulders and a leather jacket wanted to know where your Italian folk lore section was located. He came in every day for a new cultures lore and phenomenon until finally he came to you and told you, that if you didn’t go on a date with him, he would have no choice but to read every book in the library. Who could put a man through that much misery? You smiled at the fond memory.

“Huh, and he just whisked you away?” The smile she gave you was fake, it was almost convincing though. “Romantic” she took a drink of her wine and walked away. You turned and looked at Derek and shook your head as he was about to make his way towards you. You regrouped with Shirlene and the rest of the girls.

Later on in the night you and Derek next to each other with your hand resting on top of his. Shirlene and her husband Arnie were there, with a few others, Fred, Danielle, Rachel, John and Bobby. Everyone sat in a circle on various lawn chairs and benches. You remarked on what a great night this was, it was one you’d both needed.

“So what do you do again?” Arnie asked looking pointedly at Derek, he’d had a lot to drink tonight so his words were slurred a bit.

“I’m a nocturnal animal tracker” the group looked at Derek, quiet.

“Well, what does that mean?” Rachel voiced everyone’s question.

“Well, you know, mountain lions, cayotes, wolves. If they get too close to civilization I track them and make sure they don’t get too close” he told them. Good lie, you thought. If he’d told you that, maybe you would have believed him.

“Oh my Gosh, do you kill them?” Danielle asked with a gasp and leaned forward, showing interest, and her cleavage. Derek looked at you, seeming annoyed at her flirting, you smiled at him, biting back your laughter. His look matched yours almost instantly. His gaze went steely again though, when it was time to answer the question.

“If I have to” he took a drink and looked straight ahead.

“So basically… you’re Animal Control” Arnie said drunkenly. Derek’s hand clenched under yours. Arnie was a jealous man, he wasn’t ugly, his blonde hair was in a buzz cut with a little scruff on his face, he was a little shorter than Derek and on the thinner side, save for his small beer gut. Maybe he was the type of guy that couldn’t handle a better looking person around.

“Only the dangerous ones” he looked into Arnie’s eyes with a look that you would never like to be on the other end of. Arnie wasn’t dangerous but, Derek definitely was. You gripped Derek’s hand tightly.

“You know, I heard that a big ol’ group of people just came in town and just about rented the whole motel up.” Shirlene changed the subject quickly.

The rest of the evening went by smoothly, you both headed back to your trailer, waving to the few leftover people that stayed. It was nearing Midnight and you were getting tired. Once you got inside you stripped off all your clothes, and turned to face Derek, a little tipsy.

“That was fun,you have to admit” you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yeah, I guess it was” He smiled and placed his hands on your waist.

“I’m still mad at you for not letting me have a slice of cake” you pouted and bit your lip.

“Babygirl, if you wanted dessert, you should have said something” he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“I want dessert” you said lightly. He pressed his lips to yours hungrily and walked you both back to the bedroom.

[unwriter-sc]

So I was doing some writing.

Pre-warning, there might be some triggers concerning parental abuse in this one.

London was raised by her uncle, Maxwell Skye, instead of her parents for the majority of her life. There was a list of reasons that she had come up with in her head, but until she received the answer from her uncle, she was not going to settle on a reason.

 Of course, it would be remiss of her to not describe her wonderful uncle. He was a man of many talents but could easily be explained in a few words: religious stalker. London was sure that it wasn't his fault, the man had grown up during The Troubles, which was enough to screw with the average person's psyche. Though what Maxwell did, aside from casually break his niece's privacy and check up on her every five minutes, was preaching at a church. He was known for being a tough, no-nonsense sort of guy.

 As London stepped through the threshold of her uncle's house, she had found him in the middle of preparing a speech in his notebook, which was a dirty beat up leather journal that honestly looked like a crazy person's manifesto, then the book of a respected person. The only acknowledgement of her presence that her uncle gave her was tilting his head upwards and stopping his writing. London closed the door behind her and gripped the strap of her backpack with tense knuckles, it wouldn't be the first time she was going to have to forego dinner to avoid his wrath (especially if he was in a bad mood).

 "I'm back from Victoria's place," London said, knowing that he would probably interrupt her if she spoke for much longer.

 "I can tell." He said, "And you are ten minutes early." He added without even looking at his watch or a phone. "Could you please tell me what you were doing at Victoria's house?" He asked with a tone that was more suited towards a command. However, he was using manners, so he was in a good mood.

 London walked up to get in front of her uncle, as he wanted her to do when talking to him. "I was doing much of nothing, just hanging out with friends, we watched a show on her laptop, and that was it." She answered, only telling a half-truth. However, there was no knowing how sour his mood would be at hearing about the agreement that was reached between the two girls.

 Maxwell studies his niece's face, schooled into a neutral expression, looking for any sign of deception, "You're not telling the full truth." He says. "We both know that is a sin."

 "We also talked a while, about life in general," London said, still omitting the truth. "The standard things that you do with your friends." though it was closer to the truth than her previous statement.

 If Maxwell thought that she was lying, he certainly didn't say anything,  though there was his look of slight doubt. He dismissed her with a wave, and it seemed that he was satisfied.

 After a somewhat tense dinner with her cousins and he uncle. During which, he wouldn't stop staring at her. The only good part of the meal was her cousin, Jessica, who is a goddess of cooking.

 About half an hour after dinner, London was in her room, the first thing she did was check for her diary, which was still in its hiding spot, thankfully her uncle had fallen for one of the dummy diaries that she had lying around. She could always tell because he wasn't the most subtle person.

 The second thing she did was lock her door and put a chair underneath it just to be safe. She then put down her bag on her desk and emptied out her bag to keep a small supply of food in her room if she didn't get dinner on a later date.

 The food was stored in a smaller ripped bag that she used to use before the straps broke off, while Maxwell believed that she had got rid of it, London was making sure of her eating at a later date.

 London wondered exactly what constituted abuse, she knew that her uncle didn't hit her, but she was sure that the invading the privacy and the occasional denying of food wasn't exactly the things that caring guardians did. Sighing, London instinctively went for her laptop, but then remembered that her uncle took it away from her for a while as punishment for her looking up 'sinful subjects'.

 London then reached into her pockets and pulled out her phone, typing into the search bar 'how to tell if you are being abused by your parents' with lightning quick speed.

 Opening up the first result that was not an add brought her attention to an article about it, listing various signs that the parent is abusive. One stuck out quite well "The Parent Isolates The Child" she mumbled to herself as she read it.

 Well considering the fact that she's had her laptop taken away from her for looking up stuff that might be considered unacceptable and the fact that he requires status updates as to where she is, she guesses she could consider it as abuse, in a way.

 That actually made her pause, she wondered if she was just exaggerating, while her uncle wasn't the best for her, he was still trying to raise her, and she supposed that he still thought of her as a little girl who needed to be protected from the world's evils.

 "It could be worse" she murmured to herself as she exited off the website on her phone, at least he didn't beat her. He at least trusted her enough to allow her a smartphone, even if he did periodically check up on her and he even allowed her to have a laptop, though Maxwell did take it away and monitored her internet usage.

 London sat down on her bed as she thought about it, her uncle was kind enough to put a roof over her head and give her technology, but on the other hand, he monitored her and what she read in an attempt to shelter her. Could she really call it abuse when he had her best intentions at heart? Was it even abuse, London could just be misreading the entire situation.

 There was a knock at her door, which was enough to prompt London to remove the chair, she knew that Maxwell wasn't the type to knock, which narrowed down the list of potential suspects to be Jessica. Opening the door confirmed her guess, revealing the rather mild-mannered form of her cousin, who still had her blonde hair in a ponytail.

 "Hey, cos, do you mind if I come in?" She asked, London was always taken aback when someone asked before doing something, she was expected to do that, but her uncle was not the type who did that.

 "Of course, make yourself at home," London responded, internally wincing at her words, of course, she would make herself at home, she lived here. Jessica sat down gracefully on the chair that was moved off to the side, which left London to sit down on the bed.

 "Is there something wrong?" Jessica asked, clearly not wanting to mince words. She looked at London intensely, and London wasn't sure if her cousin was on her side or not.

 "Nothing's wrong." London responded, trying to dismiss it. Though when she saw Jessica's face harden and her lips form into a frown, London knew that she had said the wrong thing.

 Jessica made a non-committal hum "An absence of things being wrong doesn't make the atmosphere at home that tense." She said, "There is something wrong."

 London racked her mind to think of something that she could say, something that she could use to deflect the issue away from the single question that was gnawing at her, well the several burning questions, but it was close enough. "I was wondering why exactly uncle feels the need to monitor our internet usage, I mean it's not like reading about something will make me do it."

 Jessica looked mildly concerned at that "I know what you mean, he is a bit ..." she paused, looking for the right word, "overly protective. Though I can see why he does that, I mean there are a lot of odd things on the internet. Neopagans are one example I can think of." She added. "Another would be those weird weeby types." she muttered something under her breath.

 "Though I think that he can sometimes be a little bit too protective." London responded, "I was researching some things about the LGBT community to reach out to them, but he took my laptop away because it was sinful." Admittedly, that was a bald-faced lie, she was researching it because she was trying to figure out what she was exactly, but her cousin would only have to know that after a while. London needed to take care of one more thing, "One thing, could you not tell uncle about this? Please?"

 Jessica looked somewhat confused at that "What'd you mean?"

 "Well, after I told you that Matthew was gay I wasn't allowed to talk to him." London explained, Matthew was one of Vitoria's friends and made for fascinating conversation, but since he was gay, London wasn't allowed to interact with him.

 "I didn't tell uncle about that." Jessica said, her voice slow as she processed the implications "Did father eavesdrop on us?"

 "He may very well have." London responded. She mentally added another thing to her worryingly long list of 'things that she needs to consider about Maxwell.'