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bqstqnbruin · 1 month

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Brock Boeser Teacher AU

I actually think this one might be my favorite one so far.

Also peep the reference to everyone's favorite couple, Blake and Nico

Teacher AU Series

Warnings: None

WC: 1316

___________________

“Hear me out,” Paige says, her friends at the lunch table groaning around her. “No, please.”

“Paige, we’ve been over this,” Gem groans, putting her head in her hands.

“There’s no way you can’t tell me they’re not into each other.”

“You need a different hobby besides thinking about Mr. Boeser and Ms. Valencia.”

“My mom won’t let me read for fun during the school year, what else do I have?”

Surya comes back to the table with utensils, looking around at the rest of her friends. “Is she talking about them again?”

“Think about how they were acting on the first day of school.”

“Are you heading to the assembly?” Brock poked his head into the faculty room where Lennox was sitting with her computer, avoiding her room so she wouldn’t have to deal with the plethora of students that had congregated there before first bell.

“Do we have a choice?” she asks.

Brock looks behind him, trying to see if any students were still in the hallway. He sees Paige and some of her friends, students he didn’t teach but recognized from around the hallways. He waves at them, not seeing the mischievous look on Paige’s face once she saw Lennox come out of the faculty room beaming at Brock.

The two make their way to the gym, collecting stray students on the way to bring them to their first day of school assembly that the seniors put together every year.

Brock and Lennox stand off to the side, the other teachers surrounding the perimeter as well. The first day of school video the seniors put together starts playing on the screen in the center of the room.

“Why do we never use someone from the drama club in these?” Brock leans over and whispers to Lennox.

She shrugs, not taking her eyes off the screen. “They aren’t the ones who run for council.”

“I think we need to spend more time trying to convince them.”

“That can be one of our personal goals for the year.”

The two continue to whisper throughout the video, laughing silently to each other while trying to keep a straight face. Neither of them was succeeding, but they really didn’t care.

“You can’t tell me two people can look at each other the way they do and not be at least a little into each other,” Paige argues, Gem mumbling something. “What?”

“Have you heard of people being friends?” Gem repeats.

“I have friends,” Paige says, gesturing to everyone at the table.

“You might not for much longer.”

“What about that day in October?”

Gem stutters, checking her phone to see how much time was left before they all could be released from their friends' nonsense. “There are thirty one of them, Paige.”

“No, I mean,” Paige sighs, turning to Surya. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Surya shrugs, opening the yogurt that was in her lunch box. “I promise you I don’t.”

Lennox sat on her desk, the rest of her students staring at her. “So, none of you did the reading last night?” She crossed her arms over her chest, arching one eyebrow at the students who refused to look at her. “Guys, we’re either having a discussion on the book and I grade you on participation, or I give you a quiz and that’s the grade for today.”

Surya looks at Paige, shrugging at each other. Surya raises her hand, Lennox gesturing to her student. “Nick wasn’t straight.”

Some of the students giggle around her, Lennox smiling and nodding. “Go on.”

“The chapter ends with a him going to lunch with Mr. McKee, it fades to black and then he’s like ‘oh no, not again,’ standing over a mostly naked Mr. McKee in bed.”

Lennox bites her lip, holding back a comment on Surya’s, ‘oh no,’ that would not be appropriate to say in front of students. She reaches back to her plan book, writing it down, making a note for Surya’s participation. She looks around the room, seeing some of the students writing, hoping that it meant they were taking notes and trying to participate in that way. “And why would that be important?”

One of her other students, Jamie, raises their hand. “Isn’t there that argument that he’s in love with Gatsby?”

A few of the students murmur in agreement. “So I ask again, why is that important?”

Before Lennox can call on another student, Brock knocks on the door, all of the students' heads whipping around. Paige rapidly pats Surya on the arm, Surya trying her best to swat her away as they watch Brock walk into Lennox’s classroom, handing her a note and leaving just as quickly. They didn’t see Brock wink at her, Lennox tucking the note into her book to get back to her lesson.

“So,” Lennox asks, clearing her throat. “Where were we?”

“Nick is gay for Gatsby,” someone in the back corner calls out, the students bursting into laughter.

“Ok, ok,” Lennox says, getting up from her desk and going over to her board. She uncaps a marker and writes ‘Nick in love w/Gatsby?’

The students start discussing the implications of the narrator being in love with the titular character, Lennox sliding the note out of her book while her students were distracted. She didn’t notice Paige watching her face light up at the note, dying to know what it said.

“That had to mean something.”

“Sometimes the curtains are really just blue, Paige,” Gem rolls her eyes.

“Ok, but what about the sweatshirt?”

“Sometimes the sweatshirt is just a sweatshirt.”

“Mr. B, why is it so cold in here?” Paige asks, rubbing her arms to try to warm them up.

Brock gestures to the windows in the back of his classroom, one of them with a noticeable crack in it that hadn’t been there the day before. “The gold foil experiment from yesterday didn’t go well with fifth period.”

The rest of the students file in, all of them mumbling about the noticeable difference in temperature between the hallway and the class. “Ok, ok, settle down, I have the door open.” Brock says, starting class. “We have our atomic timeline projects that are due next week, and since I know none of you are going to pay attention to notes in this room, we’re working on those instead.”

“Hey, Mr. B?” Paige asks while the rest of the students are taking out their laptops.

“What’s up?”

“Why are you wearing Ms. Val’s sweatshirt?”

Brock looks at his sleeve, Lennox’s last name on his arm as he tries to hide his smile at the sight of it. “She’s smarter than I am so she leaves a sweatshirt here. I just asked if I could borrow it for today.”

“That was nice of her,” Paige smiles, Brock shaking his head.

“Paige, no. This doesn’t mean anything.” He knew that there was the rumor of him and Lennox being together, and he knew Paige well enough to know what her smile meant. “My cousin Blake borrowed another teacher's sweatshirt once and all of their students went insane. We are not doing that today. Work on your project.”

“He wouldn’t bring up another teacher if it didn’t mean anything. I found Blake on Instagram, and they are totally dating one of their coworkers,” Paige, says, pulling up Blakes account and showing her friends of Mr. Boeser’s cousin and their boyfriend.

“We need to stage an intervention,” Gem says.

“Yeah, Paige, this is going way too far,” Surya adds.

One of the seniors, Jackie, walks by their lunch table. “Are you guys talking about Boeser and Valencia?” Paige nods eagerly, her face lighting up. “Ms. Val is my homeroom teacher. They’re totally dating.”

Paige’s mouth falls open as Jackie walks away, ignoring the look of fear on all her friends' faces as her excitement grows. “This is so much better.”

#brock boeser #Brock Boeser fic #brock boeser au #vancouver canucks #nhl #nhl fic #nhl au #hockey #hockey fic #hockey au #vancouver canucks fic #vancouver canucks au #canucks #canucks au #canucks fic #teacher au

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rkjeno · 5 years

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〈♫〉MGAS SEASON 5 → 02. post-performance interview.

after the last performance, jeno kind of figured that would be the last big thing of the day. unfortunately, he had another thing coming. given he was so incredibly stoked to be met with an interview the first time, clearly he felt just as much excitement this time around. in other words, he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. he managed to sing in front of a hundred people, but talking in front of a camera seemed completely unrealistic and impossible. every time those types of thoughts play through his mind, he feels slightly amused. he really is a work of art, isn’t he? he could have been blessed with a mind that didn’t overthink and a heart that didn’t make him feel like it was going into overdrive on the daily. alas...

once he was comfortably sitting in the seat and positioned in front of the interviewer, he managed his biggest, warmest smile and let out a nervous sigh. it was following by soft, airy laughter as he laced his fingers together and rested his hands in his lap. he wasn’t sure what sort of questions he was going to be met with this time, though he had a feeling that they’d be a lot less effortless than the last ones. still, he has surprised himself before, so he tried not to get too worked up before knowing what was going to happen ( even though that’s always the situations in which he is the most worked up... he needs to know things ).

“how did you feel when you received the news of the callback?”

"oh...” his immediate reaction amused him, which left him briefly laughing for a few moments after. if only he was better at gathering his thoughts in the blink of an eye or speaking before he’s played it through his mind. “well, truthfully, i was really panicked. i didn’t even open the email right away because i was afraid that it was going to be bad news.” a sheepish smile accompanies his confession, and he scratches at the back of his neck for a moment before continuing. “i think it took me about an hour to finally work up the courage to see what was happening. once i saw that i made it through, i was surprised. out of all of the people that initially auditioned, i was very grateful to have been one of the top one-hundred. when i was little, a hundred seemed like a huge number to me, but by now, i can see how fortunate i am to be here today. it was a nice feeling... a feeling of accomplishment.”

“how was it seeing the set for the first time?”

he takes a moment before making any sort of noise or giving the interviewer some other sort of reaction, since he needed to mentally revisit his experience, trying to remember what the first emotion he felt upon witnessing it was. “surreal? it felt like i was visiting something that i wasn’t actually apart of. i think at first, i probably felt like i was just going to be someone in the audience that watches the competition, because i haven’t ever been anywhere like this before where i was... involved. does that make sense? i kind of felt like i was visiting some imaginary thing from tv. like... it’s hard to actually see these kind of sets as real when they’ve ever only existed on the television before. it took some sinking in for me to finally accept that this was real, and it was something that i was going to be a part of.”

“what did you think when the judges were revealed?”

"i think that i was convinced that it was over for me.” light, amused laughter spills from his lips as he leans back in his chair a little, tilting his head to the side as he tried to gather more of his thoughts. “i have never seen these people in person before, as far as i can recall. so, seeing them for the first time was overwhelming enough, but that was just intensified upon realizing that they were going to be judging me. they’re all respected, talented, and powerful people... they can bend a lot of things to their will, and i think that sort of intimidated and scared me.”

“how do you think you did?”

"um... i am pretty sure that i did well. or, as well as i planned to. in comparison to other people’s ideas of what ‘good’ means, i have no idea. i don’t know if the judges will like me or if the other contestants will think that i deserve to be here... but when it comes to my own thoughts and what i had in mind, i met my own expectations.”

“were there any performances you liked?”

this was a question that he predicted the second that he sat down for an interview. after having the opportunity to watch everyone and take note of what they did, surely these people would be curious about everyone’s opinions. it’s with a large, excited grin that he is able to answer, “yeah! totally... there were a lot of performances that i liked. i just enjoyed seeing what everybody had to offer since we’re all so different and everyone’s minds are wired to come up with different ideas and it’s really fun seeing the spins that get put on things. i really, really loved watching ha sungwoon? i think that was his name... the one that performed a fall out boy song on the piano. he was very talented and he had something going for him that i wish i could acquire. fall out boy is one of my favorite bands, so maybe i was biased watching him to start with, but his talent just... proved to me that he deserved whatever interest i took in him. it made me wish that i had chosen to play an instrument this time around, too. also, lee seoyeon’s performance was really pretty and enjoyable as well. i have always really liked her voice. we’ve been friends for a while and i think she deserves to make it far. na jaemin and song yuqi’s performances were also fun for me to watch. i hope that they get as far as i know that they deserve to. i’m constantly surprised by all of this talent that i hardly knew existed. it’s fun to experience.”

“were there any performances you didn’t like?”

"mm... i mean... there were performances that i enjoyed less than others, but i think that’s just natural. i didn’t see anything that i just absolutely hated, but sometimes i would just quietly laugh to myself and think ‘what??’ especially when that lee jeno guy made his way onto stage... how embarrassing for him.” once finished answering, he playfully laughed, feeling his face behind to slightly warm up. he was always a master at embarrassing himself.

“is there anyone you are certain will move onto the next phase of the mgas?”

"kang daniel. i should have mentioned him when it came to performances that i liked, i guess i was just trying so hard not to forget anyone that i did... but he is so talented and pretty known... well, i know about him, at least. i guess i can’t really speak for everybody, i just think it would be ridiculous and a big mistake if he didn’t move on to the next phase.”

“is there anyone you are certain will be eliminated today?”

the question causes him to panic just a little. it probably shows on his face in the way that his eyes slightly widen and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. he takes several moments of being silent before he even attempts to answer the interviewer. “no. i’m not certain of anything. i mean... i don’t think anyone can be. mistakes were made here and there, but even so... there’s not a way of knowing until it happens. people who i thought performed flawlessly could be eliminated while people that i thought needed more practice could win it all. it’s all up to the judges and we all just have to... hope that it isn’t us... but it’s going to be someone, sadly. maybe that will be me. nobody can be sure right this second.”

#rkmga5 #rkmga5callback #; solo #wc: 1316 #rkxsungwoon #rkapril #rkjaemin #rkyq #danielxrk

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rosesareviolentlyread · 4 years

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Bakery Box Boy: Bath Time

CW: mentions of punishment, physical harm, scars, modern slavery, memory alteration, self-blame, people talking negatively about the character, internalized hatred, I’m really bad at these I’m working on it, anxiety WC: 1316

IT CONTINUES I swear one of you asked me to tag you but I forgot who. Thanks again to @moose-teeth and @whumpywhumper for beta-reading. And we also located the post that inspire this!! so thanks @whumping-every-day for that wonderful answer!!

The warm water swirls around his - Jasper’s - hands as he moves them through the water, feeling the gentle push and pull. It’s steamy, a fog of vanilla and sweet wood that clings to him like the cold had. He worries it’ll ruin the beautiful wallpaper, the one covered in yellow flowers with dark green stems that look like they’re growing all over the wall. He doesn’t want to ruin the wallpaper.

He doesn’t want to ruin things, not again.

But, nothing about this seems to be going right. The memory of coming out of the box still feels...foggy, like the air around him, a confusion that clings to his chest with the fear that he has done something wrong, with knowing he’s been bad. 847650 - Jasper his brain continues to correct - isn’t good. He can’t remember why, or how, but he knows. Not that he wasn’t good enough here, those blunders are still fresh. No, it’s a deeper certainty, that the core of who 847650 is, is mistake.

He knows because the things in his mind that he can grasp, they are only pain, and fear, and people yelling. Because he can see the thin tracery of lines that cover his arms, his legs. Because he can feel the way his bones crack when he stands. Because of the way skin pulls uncomfortably across his back that makes him scared to look.

But his new owner, they’d….touched him. Not the way they did in the white rooms, in the places he wishes would fog over more. It had been gentle. Warm. Hands that rubbed circles into the frozen joints, wrapped them in blankets far too soft for something as torn and broken as him. She knew, he was sure, because the one thing he could clearly remember, was her face when he’d first opened his eyes.

Horror.

He is a terror, a horror, a thing made to be kept in a basement. That’s what the handlers have told him this time or the time before or sometime that blends into a forever of white rooms only punctuated with the pain of knowing he is bad in the way a belt or a cane or a whip or a hand hits him until he is beat beet-red.

Useless, can’t believe it’s back again.

What’d it do this time? Can’t believe they keep sending it out. Guess money is money.

How much longer you think it’ll last?

Who knows? This thing’s like a bad luck boomerang, can’t get rid of it

And 847650 knows they are right, in his bones. That nothing good happens around him. To him. It’s written on his skin, in the box he came in, in the way her face had looked.

So, why had she touched him like that? Why is she letting him sit here, in this nice bath, that is using far too much warm water on him? Why does she only have nice soaps for him to use, ones that smell like sugar and sweetness and all the things he can barely remember beyond them being far too nice?

It feels so wrong, and he wants it to stop. He wants the shoe to drop, to kick his ribs, to crush his hand.

Doesn’t he?

He isn’t made for flowered walls, for warm fireplaces and hand-knit blankets that smell musty and cozy with years of use worn into their threads, not threadbare but instead comfortable, secure in their place.

He wants to be like that, to know where he belongs, to belong, but he is bad. Bad luck. And he knows there is no way he belonged somewhere like here, can’t, not for long.

A knock on the door jumps him out of his thoughts, water almost sloshing onto the soft bathmat.

One drop away from disaster.

“Sugar? I found some clothes for you. I think they might fit, you’re about the right size. I’ll just leave ‘em here on the edge of the counter. You just come on out when you’re ready, I’ll be in the kitchen.” He sees a hand slip a pile of fabric onto the edge of the counter before the door shuts again.

When he’s ready?

A test. It must be. To see how quickly he can recover, get himself ready to learn.

Even though the water soothes the ache in his limbs, he forces himself to pull the drain open, watching his solace slink down the drain. Grabbing the towel that is far too fluffy, he stands carefully in the tub, drying off before stepping out so to be sure to not slick the tile with water.

The pile of clothes have the same slightly musty, stored smell of the blankets. He doesn’t mind it, feeling the soft, pliable fabric in his hands. It’s not stiff, like clothes he feels in the edges of his mind he’s worn before, that felt too wrong on his body, too perfect in every angle and shape. But they’re not full of holes that make his skin shiver with the memory of cold far worse than that of the box. It’s clothing that’s been lived in, been given a home, for longer than he can imagine.

He pulls on the white shirt, feeling it hang loose on his shoulders as he puts the thick flannel over top. The jeans, while thin, hang loose on his hips, until he has to tighten the belt to the second to last hand-worn notch just so they’ll stay up. But it’s all so warm and soft over his skin. The socks are luxurious, thick wool that helps him cling to the feeling of toes. Of being here, even as the fog in his brain still makes it hard to think, to remember.

When you’re ready her voice echoes in his brain, and suddenly, he’s quickly folding the towel back onto its rack, and scrambling to the kitchen. He isn’t sure how long he stood there, fingers just trailing over the fabric on his skin, but he knows intimately it was too long.

Jasper nearly slams into the wall as the sudden slick of socks on his feet causes him to slide down the hall, limbs flailing like a newborn fawn. He manages to recover, grabbing the doorway as his heart thumps in his ears in fear.

Please, please let me to have been quick enough to be good

“Oh, there you are. I was starting to think you’d fallen asleep in there, was about to go check to see if you’d drowned.” His owner’s face is smiling, and she winks, but he can’t understand why. Clearly, he’d taken too long. Maybe she’s happy because it means she now has a reason to punish him, to start teaching him a lesson. Maybe because it proves that he isn’t good, just like she thought when she saw him. He ducks his head, feeling his shoulders stiffen and hoping maybe this punishment will at least be a bit lighter, since his bones still ache from the cold, muscles straining just to stay upright.

“I-I’m sorry I took so long Miss Della.” For no reason, dammit, he feels tears prick his eyes, and he forces them away.

Crying ain’t gonna do you no good, little boy, the voice in his head taunts with the crackle of electricity in its anger.

“No worries, I like myself a good soak too. I’m sure after getting soaked in the cold it felt nice to do an ole switcheroo hmm? Why don’t we go sit by the fire, warm you up a bit more, and I’ll go over the ground rules and what not” Her face breaks out into a smile as she crosses to the living room, picking up a dark iron rod to stoke the fire.

Jasper reminds himself to follow, even as a spot on his hip screams about how red hot pokers feel on skin.

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edupunkn00b · 3 years

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Play Us A Song: Prelude to the Storm

Prev - Chapter 7: Prelude to the Storm - Next - Master - [ AO3 ]

CW: past major character death, referenced/implied suicide, mental health/bi-polar depression discussed - WC: 1316 ---

I raised a stone to end his pain What caused the wound? How large the teeth? - In the Woods Somewhere, Hozier ---

The setting winter sun glinting through the window cast long shadows across the coffee table in Dr. Picani's office. It was bitterly cold outside and the radiator clicked on again, fighting to keep the room warm.

“How are the rehearsals going? Did you get out early today?” Dr. Picani took a sip of his tea. Logan’s full water cup sat untouched on the table in front of him.

Logan nodded, staring at the cup, brushing his hand over his tie. “They’re going very well, thank you.” Picani nodded, waiting for Logan to elaborate or otherwise address the second part of his question.

When he remained silent, Dr. Picani tried a different path. “What has it been like for you, to play regularly again?”

Logan picked up the cup, gazing into the little swirls at the surface. “It’s fine,” he murmured before putting the cup back down without drinking.

Dr. Picani peered closely at Logan’s face. When he’d bent forward to pick up the cup, Picani could see that what had originally appeared to be shadows from his eyeglasses were actually deep, purple bags under his eyes. “How have you been sleeping, Logan?”

He nodded again, looking down at his hands. “Just fine.”

“Do you still use that sleep tracking app?” Picani’s eyebrows twitched upwards when he saw Logan’s hand jerk toward his pocket, covering his phone.

“I… had to uninstall it.” Logan smoothed down his tie, fingertips lingering over the embroidered design. “It… became unstable after an update.”

Dr. Picani hummed, nodding. “I know a few others that might work better with your phone. I can send you the links.”

Logan rubbed his thumbs over the wide end of his tie, gaze focused on the colorful embroidery. “Certainly, that would be helpful. Thank you, Dr. Picani.”

They both grew quiet, with the only sounds in the office the ticking of the second hand on the clock behind Logan’s head and a periodic hum from the water cooler.

Finally, Dr. Picani spoke again. “I noticed that you’re wearing your flower tie today.”

Nodding slowly, Logan wrapped the tie around his fingers. “I missed it.”

“Have you been thinking more about Remus lately?” Dr. Picani flipped his notepad back over, making a small mark on the page. Logan shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

“Logan, did you miss the tie or did you feel guilty that you weren’t wearing it?”

Logan’s eyes shot up at Picani’s question, his mouth falling open. Dr. Picani smiled gently. “Both are valid, they’re just different feelings.”

Logan sucked in a breath, fighting against a sudden lump in his throat. “Wearing it is the least I can do. It’s a reminder.”

“A reminder of what, Logan?” Dr. Picani prompted quietly when Logan fell silent, twisting the tie in his hands.

"How I… I couldn't…" Logan's voice trailed off, rubbing his bare ring finger. "I used to feel so… relieved at the start of his manic periods. As though that was 'the real' Remus coming back. The happy Remus." He squeezed his eyes shut and a shuddering sigh escaped his lips. "My Remus." Logan was quiet for a long time, opening his mouth, but then snapping it shut again. Picani sat quietly, giving him all of his attention.

"Especially early in our marriage, but even up until—” Logan’s voice broke and he took a few breaths before continuing. “I was unaware how much Remus would try to prevent me from seeing him in his depressive states. Or how much he would fight to camouflage it when he couldn’t avoid me.

"But both were the real him." Logan's voice fell to a rough whisper and tears welled in his eyes. “Maybe that's how I failed him. He needed someone, deserved someone who could love all of him and I… didn't. Not enough."

Dr. Picani shifted, sitting at the edge of his seat and fixing his eyes on Logan, waiting for him to look up and meet his eyes. After several moments of silence, he finally looked up into Dr. Picani’s warm brown eyes. “And what did you do when Remus was depressed? Did you threaten to leave him?”

Logan looked horrified. “No! No, I would never! Remus had a—”

Dr. Picani bit his lip, then interrupted, “Did you cheat on him? Go find a nice, chipper boyfriend for the down times?”

“No, that never even crossed my mind. How can you—”

Swallowing hard, Dr. Picani interrupted one last time, “Did you ask him to leave? Throw him out of the house? File for a divorce?”

“No, of course not!" Logan's voice cracked. "I loved him!”

Dr. Picani smiled sadly at him. “It sounds to me like you did love all of him, Logan.”

Picani let Logan sit with that statement for a few minutes. He got up and refilled his tea cup from the electric kettle on his desk. He made a second cup and set it next to Logan's water. Logan reached for the tissues on the side table, scrubbing at his face when he couldn’t stop his tears from falling. Finally, after a few more minutes, Picani spoke again.

“It also sounds to me like you used the past tense when describing your feelings for Remus.” Dr. Picani’s eyes were fixed on Logan’s face. “And you didn’t correct me when I did the same.”

“What? But he is… I mean to say, of course I—” Logan shifted in his seat, replaying his own words through his mind. Finally, he sighed shakily. “You know, Dr. Picani, I am actually rather tired, I think… If it’s alright with you, can we end a little early today?”

Dr. Picani leaned forward, setting his cup on the table between them. "Do you remember our agreement? From when you first starting meeting with me?"

Logan wrapped and unwrapped the end of his tie around his hand. His knee started to bounce and he carefully pressed his heel against the carpet, stilling its movement. Logan nodded and spoke to the floor. "I do."

"So have you been think—"

"No." Logan interrupted, voice firm. "No, I'm just... just a little tired. That's all this is." He shook his head, smoothing down his tie. "It's not... I'm not... I'm fine, just tired."

Dr. PIcani eyed Logan carefully. He couldn't deny the man looked exhausted. "Alright. I want you to call me on Friday." Logan nodded, quickly standing and walking toward the door. "And—" he stopped, turning to face Picani. "And I want you to contact a friend this week and let them know you might need a little extra support. Roman, perhaps?"

Logan nodded, “Of course, Dr. Picani. Thank you.” He quietly left the office, heading home.

After he'd left, Picani noted that Logan never drank his water and didn't touch the tea. He poured the water into his plants, silently pledging to himself to call Logan later in the week to check in.

---

The winter sky was completely black while Logan drove home. The car's headlights seemed to be swallowed up by the darkness, the streetlight timers not yet caught up with the earlier sunset.

Dr. Picani’s office was a mere two blocks from the high school, so between the rehearsals and his weekly visits, the drive back was scored into Logan’s muscle memory and he was not even aware he’d finished the drive until he was unlocking his front door. Logan hung his jacket on a hook while he kicked off his shoes. Dropping his keys, wallet, and phone on the small table in the foyer, Logan stood in the hallway for a moment, suddenly remembering that his phone had buzzed on his way to Dr. Picani's office. He went back and checked his notifications.

2 unread messages from Roman Prince popped up.

He stared at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering over the the words, then he placed the phone on the table without reading them. He went to the kitchen, picking up the multi-pack of Gatorade he'd bought last week.

Logan turned off the lights, then slowly walked upstairs and went to bed. --- @demon9980 @psychedelicships @sidespromptblog

#Play Us A Song #sanders sides fanfic #ts logan #Logan Sanders #Dr. Emile Picani #major character death (past)#cw suicide #(referenced/implied)#past intrulogical #ts remus #Remus Hyde #Remus only mentioned #ts roman #Roman Prince #logince #slow burn #ts human au #technically part of the Time After Time multiverse

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14buddy22 · 4 years

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Driving Alone

This is a request from @batnervousdazecollector. They wanted a sonny x reader fic based off Olivia Rodrigo’s song, “Driver’s License”. After hours of listening and thinking, this is what I came up with. I hope you all enjoy. Side note: The italicized are flashbacks. (Also not my gif!)

Part 2

WC: 1316

Warnings: None

You were in your car. Driving through the suburbs on Staten Island. You were on your way back home from Chicago. Your younger brother was getting married. He had found love quicker than you did.

No, you had found it already. But, it didn’t end how you wanted it to end.

You wanted it to end with you and him getting married, but instead it ended with your heartbroken.

You thought your relationship was perfect. You truly believed he was so in love with you. But, when it ended, you were in pieces. And now here you were trying to piece yourself back together. Piece... by piece…. by piece.

Sonny and you were in your shared apartment. While you were sitting on the couch watching TV. He came out of the bedroom playing the guitar. Sonny sat on the couch next to you and played your favorite love song. He didn’t write the song, but he took time to learn how to play it. He started singing Barry Manilow’s “Can’t Smile Without You”. He kissed you when he finished and said, “I love you. Forever and Always.”

When you turned on the radio. Your song came on. And all you could do was drive past Sonny’s house and just listen. You cried. You cried. And you cried. You knew Sonny should’ve been in that car with you. You knew that once it happened, it was over and there was no coming back from it. All you could think about was him and Rollins.

Rollins never liked you, even from the beginning. You were exactly like Sonny, if you two weren’t in love with each other - or if you weren’t in love with him, you two could’ve passed as the siblings you two never had. What made it worse now was that you were alone, crying in your car, driving home and he’s probably with Rollins.

He promised you forever and now you’re driving alone past his street.

When you first met Sonny in the squadroom, you were already falling for him. Of course there was Amanda who was in your way but Sonny denied he had any feelings for her.

Deny. Deny. Deny. That’s all he did. And you believed him.

Until it came back to bite you in the butt.

You just pulled off on the side of the street and cried. You thought to yourself, “How could he ever love someone else?”

It had been 2 years since you left Manhattan and transferred to Chicago. Liv and Fin had been the only ones who knew where you were going. You transferred to Hank Voight’s Intelligence Unit and had been working under him ever since. You talked about Dominick when you met Lindsey and Jay. You were sure they were tired of hearing how much you missed him but they wouldn’t know.

They wouldn’t know how much you truly were in love with him.

They also wouldn't know how much he truly hurt you.

Sonny and you were arguing. It wasn’t a small argument like the ones you had about where to get dinner or who was supposed to do the laundry.

It was a full blown Italian argument. His hands flailing, you yelling. You were surprised the neighbors hadn’t called the police. You were arguing about Rollins. The one woman who would ruin this whole relationship.

Sonny looked at you and said, “I can’t believe you’d really think I’m cheating on you with Rollins? She’s got two kids. She needs all the help she can get.”

You looked at him and said, “Yeah? And what about us? What if we had kids. Would you still be helping Rollins?”

Sonny said, “We’ve been together for two years and now you’re talking about children that we don’t even have!”

You just looked at him with tears in your eyes. You glared at him.

He just stared at you. He said, “I’m not in love with Rollins, I’m in love with you, okay?”

You looked at him and said, “Then how could you be with her during our free time together. You choose her over me and I guarantee if her and I were taken hostage and you’d have to save one of us. You’d choose her.”

The look he gave said it all. You said, “Dominick.” He just looked at you and let out a deep breath.

He said, “I’m not doing this with you.”

You crossed your arms and he said, “I can’t keep doing this with you. I can’t do the fighting, I can’t do the not trusting. I can’t do it and I won’t do it. I’ll sleep in the spare room until you can find an apartment.”

You watched him walk away and you knew you two would never be the same again. He was going to run off with her and you would go to Chicago.

You drove past some of your favorite local eateries and just pictured you and him walking and laughing on the sidewalk. You remembered the one time it was midnight, you both were visiting home for Easter and it was pouring. He pulled over on the side of the road, pulled you out of the car and you both danced in the street like no one was watching.

Yet, here you were driving alone, past your favorite places that he told you forever and that he couldn’t smile without you.

You drove further into your neighborhood and that’s when you felt your world come crashing down even more.

You parked in a parking lot and you heard your almost 2 year old son say, “Mommy? Are you okay?”

You got out of the car and held him. You said, “Of course buddy, I’m okay.”

When you first went to Chicago, your suspicions of being pregnant came true sitting in that locker room waiting for the timer to go off. You loved Dominick but he hurt you. You knew you weren’t the perfect couple but you’ve never felt that type of way for anyone.

9 months flew by quickly and you were delivering your healthy baby boy with your partner Ruzek on your side. He was so helpful. He would’ve come to your brother's wedding but you told him no. You needed to see Sonny.

You were holding your son, walking into a pizza shop. You sat at a table and there you saw him and her and two kids.

Sonny was holding her hand as they were laughing. He was smiling and that’s a smile you thought you’d only ever got to see. How could he be so okay knowing that you were gone?

Yes it’s been 2 years but, not once in those two years did he ever call to check on you. Especially since you left Manhattan without saying a word to anyone.

You looked at your son and said, “Come on Dom, we’re going to go.”

You got in the car. You took one last look at Sonny and Amanda walking out of the pizza, hoping he wouldn’t see you. Jesse jumped into his arms as he was carrying the pizza boxes. He was happy and you weren’t. The only happiness you ever had was with your son.

You loved Sonny. No, you still did love Sonny. But, he was okay with Rollins and that you were out of his life.

You started to drive again. There were so many times where you had imagined taking your son to meet his father, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Too afraid of your suspicions that were confirmed true, yet again today. You were hurt knowing he was smiling and laughing with Rollins. Doing what you both used to do until she ruined everything for you.

But what really hurt the most is that he lied. He had told you forever and here you are, driving alone, with his son, past his street.

#reader x sonny carisi #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi x you

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hitaka5ever · 3 years

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Big shout out to Nugs-Art for their amazing dedication to wanting to drawing 1316+ Warrior Cats and finishing nearly 1000 of them already. I've got my work cut out for me as I go through your blog and paste links to each Warrior Cat name in the Archive

Please give @nugs-art a big round of applause! They're the real MVP!

Here's their list for anyone curious! https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YxwSx4sWd9kxjAXeDc0GEPqbrjd5IedUP0Jxez6gB6U/edit?usp=sharing

If you would like your WC character designs (canon and/or OC) added to the Archive, fill out this form: https://forms.gle/WJVX5WSNJx3H5B4U9

#nugs-art #warrior cats #wc #wcs #archive #warrior cats archive #designs

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sosugasweet · 4 years

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✿ Sugawara Koushi/f!Reader

✿ soulmate!au; mafia!au; reincarnation!au; angst; fluff; wc 1316

✿ warnings: none

✿ Sui knows his onions.

✿ prev || mlist || next

< ten: clandestine >

After that night in the library, you see less and less of Sui. Not that he disappears; rather he seems busier than ever. Every time you catch sight of him, the next moment he is gone.

As the days and nights run on, you gradually get a sense that there is something going on bigger than you can truly grasp. There is an underlying current of worry and anticipation that seems to flow through everyone with a nervous energy.

You don’t realize how much it has been gnawing at the back of your mind until you mess up your third shipment in the past hour and the box clatters to the floor, glancing sharply against your hand in the process.

Wincing, you exclaim involuntarily as you rub your sore fingers.

“Are you alright? You really should take a break.”

With a frown, Rafter gently guides you by the shoulders to the side bench and urges you to sit down.

“Drink some water and calm down. You haven’t been right all afternoon, take some time to relax, ok?”

Placing a cup in your hands, Rafter nods in satisfaction when you take a good sip before returning to his work.

As you watch him dexterously tie knot after knot, your mind wanders to open waters and salty breezes until you hear him clear his throat.

“So… what’s on your mind?” Perhaps embarrassed, Rafter doesn’t turn around but continues to work as he talks.

“I’m just an old man, but I can hear you out. Whatever you want to say, even if it’s about the boss, I’ll listen. Or you can just pretend I’m not here.”

You chuckle at his awkward but warm consideration.

“Thanks, Rafter. I guess I’m just anxious because everyone else seems nervous, you know? It feels like something is looming on the horizon, and we’re preparing for it but I have no idea what it is.”

Rafter grunts sympathetically.

“It’s those young’uns, I tell you. Always on a toot or something other. Simon and Edwin were blathering again, weren’t they?”

You laugh at his gruff tone - just yesterday, you saw him leave his portion of dessert in the fridge for Simon and his sweet tooth. And everyone knew that Rafter was the only one who kept Edwin from talking until he dropped.

“They’re fine - actually, they haven’t told me anything. To be honest, that makes me more nervous.”

At your words, Rafter lets out a quiet sigh and tugs at a knot absently before turning to smile at you.

“You needn't worry about us, lass. Just keep on smiling and singing with that lovely voice of yours, it lifts our spirits like no other.”

Despite Rafter’s kind words, the state of not knowing continues to nag at you. But when you talk to Tiller, he tells you just about the same thing with a hearty laugh.

“Sui knows his onions, don’t you worry. Now come here and try my latest creation! It’s fresh out of the oven and I want your honest opinion.”

Edwin is the resident smooth talker and Simon won’t speak a word if you try to pry anything out of him, so you skip over those two. That leaves Rodger, your fellow musician, and Quin, the most secretive one.

As the pianist, Rodger didn’t know much more than you. All he could tell you was if things went south, Sui would let everyone know what to do.

“He’s been in this business for a while. And it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to call the cops on us.”

You know Rodger is probably right - after all, he’s been with the group longer than you have. But now one last question remains in your mind.

“Where do you think I can find Quin?”

It turns out that Quin practically inhabits a room upstairs and doesn’t come out except for the occasional Tiller special. Since you arrived, you’ve only caught a few glimpses of the slender man. Maybe this would be your chance to finally get to know the most reclusive member of this group.

“Pardon, is Quin in here?” You knock on the door as politely as you can.

“... Who is it?”

The cool voice that calls out does not instill you with much hope, but you press on anyway.

“I just wanted to ask you a quick question.”

A few moments pass in silence, and you are about to turn away, discouraged, when you hear a faint shuffling. The door opens a sliver, and you finally come to face to face with Quin.

“What is it?”

Not wanting to wither under his gaze, you straighten your back and ask what has been bothering you.

“Why is everyone so nervous?”

You see his eye twitch, and he glances up and down the hallway before pulling you into the room.

“Quiet. Not a word I tell you leaves this room, understood?”

Breath stuck in your throat, you nod as you gaze awestruck at the crowded, incomprehensible space that is Quin’s room. Nearly every surface is covered with tools and various materials you’re not sure you could name.

Scratching his head with a pensive look, Quin tugs a stool out of a corner and places it by the corner of his work table.

“Sit, don’t touch anything on the table. And start from the beginning.”

You go over the past few days, the various behaviors and conversations that have contributed to your rising sense of concern. Quin works on something as he listens, fiddling with a screwdriver but nodding as you continue talking. When you finish, he puts his work on the table and turns to you with a piercing gaze.

“Sui didn’t want me to tell you, but I think it’s time you knew. Remember, if anyone asks, I didn’t tell you anything.”

A sense of deja-vu washes over you but you wordlessly nod in agreement. If Quin was going to explain the situation, you weren’t about to ruin your chances. As you lean closer, he turns back to the table and continues working as he speaks softly.

“Our family, as some call it, is not the only one with power around here. And for a long time, the Zvengli have not been on the best of terms with us. Recently, they took over the nearby Alberg group. They claim it was peaceful, but rumor has it that some Alberg members have gone missing.”

He glances at you, and you nod twice to indicate that you are listening. Satisfied, he returns his gaze to his task.

“With recent events, this district has become restless. There will probably be a confrontation with Zvengli at some point in the near future as power dynamics shift. Not necessarily violent, but you never know.”

Quin quickly blows some air onto the item in his hands, dusting it off before handing it to you.

“Of course you should hide or run if something happens, but in the case that you can’t, you should have something to buy you time.”

The small, smooth cylinder fits snugly in your palm, a small loop of metal protruding from one end.

“When you need to escape, just pull out the loop completely and throw the base at whoever’s chasing you. No matter what, don’t look back when you do.”

Nodding in understanding, you swallow thickly as you thank him for the gift.

“Don’t show that to anyone, or Sui’ll have my head.”

With a firm look, Quin nods at you before turning back to his table. But before you leave, you can’t help but ask one more question.

“Why are you helping me?”

Quin snorts quietly before meeting your perplexed gaze.

“Sui brought you in. You’re a greater help alive than dead, no?”

You can’t deny that statement.

“Thanks, Quin.”

He waves you off, seemingly embarrassed at your repeated expressions of gratitude.

“Just keep quiet and be careful.”

“I will.”

A/N: The summary, I know, I couldn’t resist. From this time period, to “know your onions” meant to know what was going on.

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#moon writes #rain showers lost flowers #sugawara koushi #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#sugawara x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu writing #do you know your onions??#(also... any favorite characters yet?)

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