#// it seems that late/bad hours during times when i feel terrible are the times when i write the most deep and long posts about muses ?? }

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XV

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. There is a mention of reader being treated by Shoko and some self-pity, and I guess everyone is ooc here as usual, but thank you for bearing with me.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV

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“Where is [name]?” Yaga asked, eyes noticing your empty seat between Gojo and Ieiri.

It was the first class of the day, and although soon-to-be Principal Yaga did not appreciate your camaraderie with the Gojo Satoru, who in his opinion was a terrible influence in his year, you were not such a corrupted student to just skip his class without notice.

Satoru had his chin on his palm, and his eyes widened slightly when he noticed Suguru was looking between him and Yaga intently as a cue for Satoru to speak. He understood what his friend meant; even if Yaga had asked about you for everyone to hear the question, under normal circumstances, Satoru would have been the one to know of your whereabouts. But this time, he did not, so he sat up straighter as his eyes flickered to Yaga and back to your desk.

Satoru had noticed you were not there when he first entered the classroom that morning, but he had just thought you were running late. He was about to open his mouth to tell Yaga that when…

“I think they were not feeling well this morning.”

It was Shoko’s voice.

Satoru heard Shoko and Yaga briefly speak some more about how you should have gone to the infirmary if you were not feeling well, and Shoko saying something about it being just a common cold and that she would check in on you later.

It made Satoru feel like a bad friend.

He had paid you for that collectible piece he had broken by accident, and unbeknownst to him, you had also returned his money to Haruki; but despite accepting Gojo’s apologies, you and him had not spent much time together in the days that followed, and the previous day, he had not seen you at all, so he could not really tell whether you were sick or not.

Satoru ripped a piece of paper off his notebook and wrote ‘Is [name] sick?’ He then threw it to Shoko.

He saw the girl read the paper and roll her eyes at him.

Well, was does that mean?

He threw another one. ‘Yes, or no?’

Shoko shrugged and went back to focusing on the board, where Yaga was writing something, unaware of the paper war about to unfold behind him.

Satoru threw another one. ‘You have not seen them???’

He swore he could hear Shoko sigh when she read that one and she shook her head no.

Satoru thought they should at least make sure you were okay.

‘Then how do you know they are OK????’

He was waiting for Shoko to respond to that when Suguru tapped his shoulder. “You should really note that down.” He was pointing to Yaga’s writing on the board that say something about the final exam for his class.

Satoru completely missed how Shoko had formed a paper ball out of a full page and was aiming for his head.

He leaned back in his chair just quickly enough to dodge it by the skin of his teeth, but the paper ball that Ieiri had formed had hit Suguru, who was now looking not so kindly at them.

“What was that for?” the dark-haired boy half-shouted half-whispered looking at Shoko and then at Satoru, pressing his hand to his cheek where the ball had hit.

He had reason to be upset. For a sorcerer that was not that specialized in physical combat, Shoko sure had a good throwing arm.

“What is wrong with the three of you?” Yaga had turned around and was frowning at the three students that had become rigid under his gaze.

Seriously, youth these days…

After being scolded for about half an hour on how passing notes during class showed lack of respect for their teacher, the school and the environment, Yaga dismissed the group as he ‘did not have it in him’ to keep lecturing them for the day.

Only then, Suguru passed the ball Shoko had thrown to him to Satoru.

A full page. Only four words.

‘Better go see yourself.’

***

“Good news?” Haruki asked watching you smile at your phone.

You put your phone down and smiled apologetically at him.

“Huh? No, sorry… It’s just Gojo. He was on a… Business trip, but he is back now.”

“A business trip?” he asked.

Shoot.

You should have chosen some different wording.

“Uh… Not exactly. More like…”

Now, what would be a good reason for a normal teacher to be sent away from the school?

“Like a teachers’ retreat or...?”

His curiosity seemed sincere. After all, how many teachers are sent on business trips?

“Yes, that!” you agreed too quickly, somewhat glad he had helped you reinforce your own lie “I was not feeling great, so I could not go,” you added, averting his gaze.

Ikeda had come to visit you after you told him you were a little under the weather. You could not tell him you were taking a day off because the last mission had been especially harsh and despite Shoko’s treatment, you were needing some rest. And of course, you could not tell him Satoru had been away on a mission of his own. That was a world he did not need to know of.

“Well, I can’t imagine that they are much fun anyway, are they?” He looked at your coffee table, where you had mindlessly placed the bag of oranges he had brought for you.

He was a nice guy, really. Sometimes you felt bad telling him all these little white lies and you wondered if he ever picked up on them. After all, as perceptive as he was, he always let you stir the conversation away from your job.

When you were younger, you also had to throw in a few lies here and there to cover why you could not always meet with him or how you had gotten a bad bruise on you arm or a cut on your face. If you could not cover it up with clothes or makeup, some days it was easier to just not see him.

Right, it had been one of Satoru’s many arguments against Ikeda back in the day, that he was a non-sorcerer, so he was not really like you or like him.

“You know he will never get it, right?” Satoru had told you once, watching you silently look for any piece of clothing that could cover a set of bruises on your arms, courtesy of Suguru’s martial arts training.

“He doesn’t need to,” you had told him.

It had seemed right to you back then. The things you and Haruki had in common outweighed those you did not, but the fact that there was a side of you he should not see always bugged you once in a while.

He’s not that skeptical, but would it be okay to tell him about curses?

Maybe you were doing him a favor by not telling him; it was not a pleasant reality, and not many wanted to face it, not even many sorcerers.

A quizzical look was on Haruki’s face when your eyes returned to him, probably because you had gone quiet all of a sudden.

“I…”

“I…”

You both smiled sheepishly at how you had chosen to speak at the same time.

“Sorry, you go first,” he said.

You shook your head. “No, you go ahead.”

“Okay, then…” You noticed some hesitation on his tone. “I probably have no right to ask, but are you in love with him?”

Oh. Maybe I should have gone first.

Your eyes widened.

What a question…

“I... Well...” your throat felt dry all of a sudden and your eyes landed on the oranges, then on Haruki, and then behind him, on a small, framed picture of you and Gojo when you were younger that was resting on your bookshelf.

There were also couple pictures of you and Shoko, and other loved ones that you did not see much of anymore, but your gaze was fixed on Satoru’s face when you finally said “I… I am. I do love him.”

Your eyes lowered to Ikeda’s form, who was looking at you with his ever-present smile.

“I see. I think understand it. I would say I missed my window again, but…”

Was there ever any? he wondered.

“He doesn’t feel the same though.” The words were out sooner that you could stop them.

Why were you telling him that?

Different possibilities crossed Ikeda’s mind: 1) that either you were assuming Gojo did not feel the same or 2) he truly did not return your feelings and had made it a known fact to you, or 3) Gojo did like you but was still holding back for some reason.

He decided not to say more about the subject for now and just enjoy a warm cup of tea with you.

But before leaving, Haruki turned to you, who were holding the door for him, and asked “Remember what I said that last time we met before leaving for Aomori?”

He was referring to the last time you had met at the coffee shop before he left Tokyo, the day he told you he was leaving. He had told you different things that day, how unexpected his departure was, how frustrated he felt, but you thought you knew the part he was referring to, and the light blush on his cheeks served as confirmation.

You gave him a light nod.

“It still holds true if you would like to give it some thought.”

With that, he left.

***

‘Better go see yourself.’

That is how Satoru ended up at the dorms, knocking on your door.

At first, not a single sound had come from inside, but after he knocked for the third time, he heard your muffled voice.

“I’m okay, Shoko. You can leave.”

“It’s not Shoko,” Satoru responded hoping you would not tell him off again.

There was a brief silence before you said in the same muffled tone “You can also leave, Satoru.”

Now, Satoru knew when to give you space and when to suck it up, and he was positive this time called for the latter, so he knocked again.

When you opened the door, he noticed the tiredness in your eyes.

Someone had a bad night of sleep.

“Did you catch a cold?” was the first thing he asked.

You took in his form, lifting your head a little to have a better look at his face. Sometimes it was funny to think you had been as tall as him when you first met as kids, and he was only becoming taller with every passing year.

“No. I said that to Shoko so she would have something to say to Yaga.”

Satoru just kept looking at you through his sunglasses.

“If that is all…” you started closing the door, but he stopped you by placing his hand on it.

“What was she supposed to say to me then?”

You sighed. In truth, you had not anticipated Satoru worrying that much.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you told him.

Haruki had told you the previous day that he was leaving Tokyo, and what had been his departure gift to you? Telling you that he liked you, that he could even have loved you, but there was no fighting against his father’s will. He was sending him hundreds of miles away into the country to live with his uncle.

“Tell me anyway.” Satoru’s hand found yours and you let him in.

He listened to everything you had to say, both of you a bit unsure at first, but he was a good listener when he wanted to, and you let out everything. You told him that Ikeda was leaving; how it was unfair to him that his father hated him; how, on a more selfish level, you felt it was unfair to you too, even if you had no right to be so affected, but you had not felt like attending class that day.

Satoru did not judge you.

“You can stay in touch with him, you know?” Gojo found no joy in his heart making that suggestion, but he wanted to give you any comfort he could at this time.

“Maybe I’ll just miss the attention he gave me.” A bittersweet smile was on your lips, but Satoru could see the first tears beginning to form in the corner of your eye as you looked at the ceiling of your room.

At some point, you both had laid down on your bed and Satoru was laying on his side so you could both fit. The dorms’ beds were not meant to fit two people after all.

A broken, low laugh came out of you. “Your friend is a sucker for attention. What do you make of that, huh?”

You were looking at Satoru’s clear eyes as he had removed his shades to lie down more comfortably. He wanted nothing more than to wipe away that tear that was running down the side of your face, but he did not move.

It had been years since the last time Gojo had seen you cry, and he had certainly never expected to see the day when you would cry over a boy; he had not expected to feel so conflicted about it either.

He had never liked Ikeda, that much was true, so he should be glad he was exiting the stage, right? However, he could not bear seeing you upset like this.

He remembered the question you had asked him months ago.

“How do you know you like someone romantically?”

It would probably be insensitive of him to ask if you had found out the answer now, and the knot in his chest indicated he might not have an easy time hearing your response if he asked.

“You are not a sucker for attention… I think you just care about him, that’s all,” Satoru said finally.

His voice was too soft, maybe to match your tone, as if he was afraid that speaking any louder would break you.

Your eyes went back to the ceiling above you. “What’s the point of caring too late?”

Unfortunately, Satoru had no answer to that, so he resorted to wiping away your tears.

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Note: I'm sick lol (no, like I actually have a bad cold). Hope that does not reflect too much here, but sorry for any typos, etc.

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XVI

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth

[1d1195]

Protection II

This is mostly the getting to know the reader and part. I hope you enjoy. 7.5k+

This is where I'll put the rest of the series: Protection

P.S. Sorry, I have some bad daddy issues that are going to be addressed in this series.

“Okay,” she nodded in promise. “Thank you,” she said seriously. She honestly hoped he sensed the authenticity of her gratitude. Harry was the first person to treat her like a human. Even if she gave him a hard time more often than not.

If she wasn’t careful, she was really going to fall in love with him.

There was just over three weeks between the end of her summer course and the fall semester. She planned on spending almost the entire time she wasn’t working either out in the sun reading or sleeping. Her final year was going to be difficult to say the least and she needed to be rested for the first days of the semester.

Her friends didn’t really chat with her during these weeks. She was used to it. Part of her believed they didn’t really want her to be around during their regularly scheduled class times either. It was why she fought so vehemently with her detail. There was so much drama surrounding her with just the presence of her security following her around.

The poor thing couldn’t sleep in all that much due to her constantly spinning mind and busy schedule with work and other obligations she put upon herself. Waking up at 8AM was about as late as she could stand it. At that time, and to beat the humidity, she hurried to shove her feet in sneakers and twist her hair up and off the back of her neck. She jogged a bit, stopping way more than she should have to walk at a clipped pace. Harry was warned of this and came prepared following behind her with so much ease. If weren’t for the heat, she was convinced he wouldn’t have broken a sweat. He didn’t speak to her while she listened to her music and didn’t make any comments about her need to walk so frequently, which she thought was kind. She imagined the rest of the detail thought she shouldn’t have had pizza on any regular schedule or said she was out of shape.

After a good head clearing, she would head back to shower and relax her muscles. It was the most calming time she had without any reminder of her detail’s presence. The one and only place they let her be alone completely. Coming back out to the living room she found Harry, ever present seated at his laptop situated on her dining table. Her hair was damp from being towel-dried and her skin felt fresh. She flopped onto the couch. Harry was silent, paying no focused attention to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him. Harry per usual, didn’t appear all that sweaty, but she couldn’t imagine having to sit in his sweat all day long while watching her and it was particularly hot and humid this morning. Especially when she had the luxury of hosing herself down. “Do you want to shower?” She asked.

He glanced at her. It wasn’t a terrible request. He hated to feel the thin sheen of sweat over his body—he didn’t think he smelled bad, but he thought he might smell like sweat. It seemed entirely unprofessional—it wasn’t covered in his training that he couldn’t shower at her apartment, but it seemed like something he should steer clear of. He could always call another agent while he headed back to his place—just ten minutes from hers. He could be back on the inside of an hour. “Uh...yeah, if y’don’t mind. I’ll jus’ call some—”

“You can shower here,” she shrugged setting up a playlist to play through her TV speaker. “I have more than one towel, obviously.”

Harry thought her sarcastic bite was funny and not dreadful like the rest of the team made it out to be. He smirked. “Uh...I don’t really want t’leave—”

She rolled her eyes and picked up her book. “I pinky promise, cross my heart, swear on my mother’s grave I won’t leave this apartment until you’re dressed and able to chase me efficiently,” she mumbled flipping to the bookmarked page. “Honestly might fall right back to sleep anyway,” she muttered. “Towels are in the linen closet,” her tone was dismissive. The ball was in Harry’s court.

Harry didn’t really want to piss her off; part of him thought that if she remained happy maybe she wouldn’t give him such a hard time. He wasn’t kidding when he told her he hated paperwork and despite how...different she seemed than the stories he heard, he wasn’t going to take his chances. Closing his laptop and he made his way by the couch toward the hall to the bathroom. He stopped in the threshold briefly and gazed at the girl snuggled on the couch who didn’t look like she’d be moving for hours. “Please,” he eyed her cautiously. “Don’t leave,” he said it gently, the slight begging tone in his voice.

She glanced up at his serious, pleading expression. Part of her forgot he was all but her enemy. His voice, his face, his body... he was so lovely. He was adorable. But she couldn’t let him know she thought that. She instead returned her gaze to her book, unable to comprehend the words fully in her brain to make sense due to the depth of green she was seeing in Harry’s eyes. She briefly pressed two fingers to her temple and saluted him without meeting his eyes. “Sure thing, boss.”

Harry still took the fastest shower he’d ever taken, still a bit worried about her leaving. However, when he returned to the main room, there she was reading. Snuggled up cutely on her sofa and listening to the gentle music playing as she did. She really wasn’t as bad as they made her out to be. Or maybe he just hadn’t really seen that side of her yet. But either way, he was glad she was kind for now.

*

“How’s it going?” Niall asked on Harry’s first day off in over a week. While they really didn’t speak a whole lot, he actually felt a little bad not seeing her. So much so, he left her a note saying to just text him if she needed something—and to not give the relief detail a too much of a fight.

“She’s not that bad,” Harry shrugged.

“No way,” Niall was in disbelief. He actually paused mid sip, spitting his drink back into the glass. “I can’t believe the close in age thing worked,” he shook his head. “I should have thought of this years ago.”

Harry shrugged again. “All she does is sleep,” it was true. She slept a good eight hours each day over the last week. In addition, he only glanced up from his computer when her book fell to the ground, and she was fast asleep in her mid-afternoon nap. Harry found his job quite cushy. Especially because he thought she was quite cute when she slept.

“She doesn’t escape?”

“If she did, she’s a lot better than anyone told me she would be. I’ve never noticed. So, I don’t think so. I caught her the first day trying t’sneak t’meet her friends at the pub. S’only because the detail outside saw her on the fire escape. Think they were honestly hazing me a bit,” he shrugged. “M’first day and all...but she hasn’t tried anything since.”

The surprise was still evident from Niall. “You like her?” He asked; he was incredulous.

Harry shrugged once more then nodded. “Yeah...she’s...fun,” he shrugged. “She’s really polite.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever said that about her.”

Harry found he was a bit irritated with his friend. Niall wasn’t one to talk poorly of someone else almost ever so his sudden remarks of the girl made him annoyed. So why was he so negative about her? “Have y’ever even met her, Niall?” Harry asked. The bite in his tone rivaled the one that she would give Harry.

He shook his head. “No, but I’ve seen the paperwork,” he whistled almost in appreciation. “She’s...”

“She’s actually really smart. Funny. Kind,” Harry interrupted.

Niall blinked surprised by Harry’s defense for the girl. “Sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry. Just...you hear some stories.”

Harry tried to push the girl from his mind. Maybe it would be different when she was back in school. Maybe it wouldn’t. But regardless, he didn’t think it was very nice of the entire department to write her off. He focused on Niall and their lunch at a local restaurant.

His phone vibrated with a message from her. He waited until Niall was engrossed in the game on the screen above their table. Never thought I’d say this about one of my bodyguards...but I can’t wait for you to be back. These people are awful to me :(

It was hard to ignore the flutter of his heart. Treat them with kindness, love. He reminded her.

Feel like they should be kind to me first...

:( He sort of agreed with her. Even if she was a pain in his butt in her own special way, he didn’t think she deserved unkindness. It was about a half hour without a response message from her and Harry realized he was a bit...anxious waiting for her name to flash across the screen. It was dicey of him—it was also silly of him to expect a message in response to a frowny face. Maybe the deepest part of his subconscious knew before the rest of him that he shouldn’t be sending her messages for a very specific reason—especially ones regarding her hatred of the other members of her security detail.

Still...he was the only one she seemed to like...and he was The Department’s last hope.

I’ll be back tomorrow, love. He said finally. He wanted to chat with her more. Six days in a row with her and he was already aching for more time with her.

Thank God. Her answer was immediate. Followed by a second one. Can we get burritos?

Sure thing :)

*

She still drove him insane. She was practically mindless as she marched down the road ahead of him when she ran errands. Nearly stumbling into traffic. It was almost as if she had a death wish.

“For the love of God, would you jus’ tell me,” he snapped at her when she once more forgot to tell him where she was going...even if it was just to get the package she ordered from the main lobby but she left without a word. Caught him a bit off-guard as he jumped up from his typical seat at her dining table, rushing to catch her before she got too far.

Honestly, he couldn’t imagine telling all but a stranger his every movement. It had to be difficult for her. But it still pissed him off. Especially when she smirked at him when he snapped at her. Like a child in trouble who knew she was in trouble. It really infuriated him when she did that.

When she met with her friends, Harry sat by the bar nursing a glass of water. He flashed his credentials to the bartender who gave him a stiff nod, not worrying about his lack of alcohol or why he was intently watching the girl across the room. Harry had to strain to hear anything of importance but for the most part it was harmless.

Boys would come talk to her and Harry couldn’t help but think they were so out of their league. The confidence they exuded was hilariously misplaced, so he thought. She was pretty. Even if she was annoying. He couldn’t help but notice how nice she looked when she twirled her hair into a pretty style, or the way her lips seemed to shine with the gloss she put on but never seemed to come off even when she sipped her drink. Of course, she was intelligent, a biochemist didn’t get to this stage in her academic career without being intelligent.

The boys, however, had one thing on their mind (make that two things) when she wore a pretty blue top with jeans cropped at her ankle. Her hair was twirled to the side making her look like some casual Rapunzel and Harry wished he didn’t think like that. But he was thinking like that. Because despite how annoying she could be, she was really beautiful. Effortlessly, it seemed.

Harry never intervened when the boys chatted with her for way longer than they should have. They didn’t seem to have a clue who she was or that Harry was a mere ten meters away eyeing their every movement. Rarely did she dismiss any of them. Ever polite, which he found interesting. The more time he spent watching her, the more fascinated he became by her.

It was only when he heard them say they were into politics that her face immediately soured, and her attention returned to her drink. At that point, her girlfriend who was essentially a second bodyguard on Harry’s detail (especially when it came to guys) came to her rescue shooing the guy away and they’d find another bar to repeat the process all over again.

The two girls linked their arms while Harry walked several paces behind them. He didn’t eavesdrop on their conversation, but he did want to know what made her laugh so hard just because he hadn’t heard her careless laughter like that before. It made her seem so at ease. He wished she was like that all the time.

Right as they started to enter the next place, a boy snagged her about the waist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. She blinked in surprise and Harry settled against the wall one business down from her spot at the entrance of the bar. He never found the guys in her company malicious or harmful. They were dumb and drunk most often. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

She pulled from him giving her friend a knowing look. With a gentle smile she grinned at the guy. Harry felt something in his chest warm over. It made him...jealous.

Oh, that’s not good. He thought to himself. But he shoved the emotion to the side. He would deal with it later. He missed the introduction the guy gave so he didn’t get to hear his name. Which meant he would have to wrangle it out of her later when he did a background check on him. “Let me take you home,” he said.

“I’m with my friend,” she nodded toward the girl. The forwardness took her friend for a loop, she was hovering closer to Harry than she had been in the last few places.

“Tell her you’re leaving,” he shrugged.

Her smile was tight. Harry could see it from where he stood. He inched a bit closer toward her friend. Even she was looking on nervously. Harry was twitching to punch him already. Especially if he didn’t leave her alone. “No, thank you,” she said reaching for the door to get inside. He slapped it shut. This time, Harry saw the way she straightened. If she was dog or a cat, he imagined she would have raised hackles. Harry pressed a finger to his ear.

“Stand by,” he mumbled to the receiver attached to him. Despite the noise of the busy street, he could hear the distinct sound of one of the department registered SUV’s engine turning over.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he smiled. The alcohol must have made him more confident. She wasn’t having it.

“I said no,” she was firm. There wasn’t room for argument. Harry felt a bit...proud of how she confidently sized herself up against him. Of course, she had scared an entire division anywhere from ten to thirty years older than her. Surely, she could take on a guy her own age.

“At least give me a chance to turn it into a yes,” he said snagging her hand. She pulled it from his grip, turning toward her friend. She caught Harry’s eye as she did. He was now almost beside her friend, and he swore he saw a sparkle in her eye as if she had only just realized Harry was actually there.

“Baby, what are you doing here!?” She said excitedly, running toward Harry as if she truly had no idea, he was right there all this time. She threw herself against him, arms looping around his neck as she clung to him. Harry felt stunned, one arm wrapping back around her waist. Her exposed skin was warm despite the reminder it was the end of August and evening air was getting cool. But she was like holding the embodiment of summer in his arms.

This was definitely not part of his training. As an agent, he was typically observant and could usually predict different outcomes or make sense of the scene and situation around him. He could figure out what most people were going to do before they did it.

Her sudden stunt left him a bit dazed.

“Thought you didn’t get out of work till later,” she smiled up at him as she pulled away, batting her eyelashes at him. “Can you take us home?” She jutted out her lower lip gazing at him with...adoration? That couldn’t be right. Even if it was for show, she was good at it. Harry didn’t know she was capable of acting. Especially acting as if she was in love.

“Uh...yeah,” Harry cleared his throat. “Got out early,” he mumbled following her lead. He could hear the laughter in the earpiece as she wrapped her arm around his waist. She grabbed her friend’s hand, and they headed off the way they came.

“He’s staring at my ass,” she whispered to her friend. “I can feel it.”

“I mean it’s a nice ass,” she shrugged with a smile.

The girl kept hold of Harry and rolled her eyes. “Creepy,” but Harry didn’t miss how he felt her arm tighten around his waist. He would break the guy’s arm for her if she asked. Harry had the right mind to kill him just for being so forward and annoying to her. Not taking no for an answer the first time she said it. When they turned the corner, she released him immediately. Harry couldn’t help how he felt cold without her embrace. And he hated how easy it was to slip into the mindset that it felt good with her wrapped around him.

Fortunately, she and her friend took off running down the block for the next bar so Harry once more had to put that notion to the side.

*

Harry entered her apartment on September first surprised to find the array of pink peonies and carnations that had adorned her walls the last three weeks were replaced by sunflowers. It was…enlightening. To say the least. Harry wasn’t even in a bad mood, but he was overwhelmed with happiness as he settled his stuff onto the dining room table. “Do you do this every month?” He asked, making his way toward her. She was on a step stool, draping more sunflower vines along the walls.

“No,” she smirked. “I’ll keep these up until December first,” she explained. “I do add some Halloween colors in next month though...and then I take those down to put up leaves for November.”

He loved her place. It was as adorable as she was. Even if he shouldn’t think that way. He enjoyed coming to work. Even if she was going to make him crazy. The flowers were pretty. It made the place utterly welcoming. More of the side of the personality he never really heard about from The Department on display. “What do y’do for the winter?” He asked grabbing the vine that dangled out of her reach and helped her put it up. With her on the stepstool she was a head taller than Harry.

It was not the time to think such things. Plus, she had never thought anything about any of her security detail before of course, but obviously Harry was much closer in age to her than anyone else before him. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was and now she was eye level with him. He didn’t question her. Didn’t yell at her for balancing precariously on the step stool, he didn’t care that she had hundreds of flowers to put up. He followed her around the apartment all afternoon chatting with her about her interior design vision.

“I feel like I need something to balance out poinsettias though,” she shrugged as they moved to her bedroom. Harry helped her more and she accepted it, surprisingly. He listened to her rant and rave about flowers and didn’t seem to mind at all that he was being paid to decorate with her. “Most winter flowers are red,” she explained. “I like red, but it’s overwhelming, you know? I think winterberries are beautiful, but I love petals,” she continued.

“Well, what ‘bout snowdrop?” Harry asked.

She paused her movements, tilted her head at him. “I don’t know that one,” she admitted. He quickly reached for his phone, tapped it several times then handed it to her.

“These?” He suggested. The screen showed the pretty little white flowers, and she glanced back at Harry. “They’d look pretty with winterberry or poinsettias,” he murmured.

Harry liked flowers. How fascinating. She assumed, like most of the other agents before him, Harry probably knew every detail of her life. Maybe better than she did sometimes. But of course, Harry was quite tight-lipped. She knew some of his food and drink tastes, but she didn’t know much about his home life, why he came to America, or how he ended up on her detail.

But he liked flowers enough to know the names of them. Enough to show an interest in something she cared about. Even if it was just a bunch of wall décor. Handing the phone back to him, she smirked at him. “I think I’ll order some fake ones on Amazon. Thank you,” she smiled.

Harry smiled back at her. “Happy t’help,” he mumbled and held his hand out for her to get off the step stool. “Any plans for today?”

Her plan was to torture Harry now that they were in single digit days until classes restarted. But his kindness ruined that. She sort of hated that he was so nice to her even when she was a bitch. He was really ruining all the hard work she put into terrifying a division of special agents. “Just work and movies probably.”

He nodded. “Sure, I’ll be here,” he smirked and found his seat at the dining table.

“You could sit over here if you want. That chair can’t be comfy all day,” she said.

He shrugged. “S’not bad,” he said gathering his stuff and moving to the opposite sofa she was on. He settled in as she scrolled through different titles on Netflix.

“Do you have any recommendations?” She asked. “I suck at picking movies.”

“I can recommend a rom-com if s’your thing,” he shrugged. “I haven’t watched it yet. Someone else recommended it t'me.”

She adored the idea that her intimidating, closed-lipped bodyguard liked rom-coms. She put it on immediately. If it was formulaic, she didn’t care. She liked knowing what to expect. Watching a movie with Harry was also relaxing. The first time neither of them spoke or acted tensely about her whereabouts. They both chuckled at the same time at different parts and pointed out funny things to rewind ten seconds that the other had missed in the background.

Of all the time she had spent with her bodyguards over the last seven years, this was one of the best afternoons she ever had.

*

The worst of his job started about a week after her classes started. She was out with friends and Harry deemed the drunk college men harmless and gave her more space at the bar where she and her friends danced.

He could see where Niall was coming from, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she was getting to him. Harry was a bit competitive and didn’t want The Department to know he was feeling bested by her too.

But he couldn’t help but be annoyed that it happened much more frequently throughout the month of September and October, becoming routine. Monday through Thursday and Sunday she spent in class, studying, or working in her sitting room and still somehow managing to get one of her jogs in before sunset almost daily. Fridays and Saturdays were spent all but torturing Harry. He had to be much more ready for her attempted escapes.

The first weekend that her classes started, she literally climbed out the bathroom window of the bar. The only reason he caught her was because one of the loudmouth guys she was with was watching a video her friend had sent of her crawling out the window and he was laughing at the hysterics of it. When Harry caught up to her at the corner of the road, she hurled several insults at him that he hadn’t once heard fall from her lips.

“I’m a grown fucking woman,” she snapped. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“S’protocol,” he shrugged. Even if he liked her, he was there to do a job.

The time after that, she simply tried outrunning him, but his legs allowed for much longer strides than her, so she didn’t get too far from him. That time she threw her shoe at him, narrowly avoiding his head. She limped awkwardly to the SUV where she sulked. Harry picked up her shoe and placed it at her feet before he drove her back to her place, where she slammed the door to her room but didn’t come back out once. Since he caught her that time, no paperwork was required.

The following week she was making out with someone in the bathroom hallway and while the idea was disgusting because she deserved far better accommodations than a bathroom hall in a messy bar in a college town, this wasn’t even that bad as far as his job went. But it did make his chest hot with jealousy.

So, he let her make out with the stupid guy while he drank his water at the bar.

The next time she hopped into a car with a stranger. Fortunately, her friend was with her so Harry didn’t worry about her well-being too much. But once he followed her to his place of residence she screamed some more while Harry just watched her have her temper tantrum. Her friend seemed entirely used to these outbursts. She ushered the guys they had met upstairs while she slunk back to the SUV once more. Grumbling and cursing at Harry under her breath.

That event required a huge, detailed report and a grumbly talking to from one of the higher ups. It made Harry irritable but found it hard to stay completely mad at her because she made brownies the following day and told him to help himself—like a peace offering.

Despite the insults and the cursing, Harry would attend meetings and debriefings where they would ask Harry if he wanted out. “Would you like to be reassigned?” They sounded tired. Like they were already anticipating who they would get to replace him.

“Did she ask for someone new?” He asked.

His supervisory blinked at him. “No...but...don’t you want out? It’s been almost a month and a half.”

He frowned. “Er...with all do respect. If she doesn’t mind me, then I’ll stay.”

Harry wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.

*

The worst however was her escape from the concert. There were simply too many variables. Even with a team of ten, Harry still felt outnumbered by her and her friend. To be fair, they told Harry ahead of the concert it was a lost cause. There was no way she wouldn’t escape. It was her best chance.

She was getting ready for the night in her bathroom. Harry was vigilant as ever in the dining area.  She came out to the living room to check on her phone charging on the side table. She looked comfy and adorable. Jeans, converse, a tanktop that fit loosely so it showed off...her assets in a tasteful way. Harry thought she was pretty as always. “Y’look nice,” he mumbled.

She glanced at him curiously and her cheeks warmed at his compliment. “Thank you,” she responded kindly. He closed his laptop and he sighed.

“Look,” he said. Immediately, her kindness disappeared from her face.

“Harry,” she sighed not feeling like fighting.

“I know you’re going to escape,” he told her. “Whatever, s’jus’ more paperwork, right?” He asked with a weak smile. She frowned knowing that he already anticipated her idea for the night. “Please,” he said. “Can y’jus’ send me your location?” He pleaded. “Please," he repeated. "I won’t tell anyone, I won’t make it a big deal. I...jus’ want t’know you’re safe,” he explained. Biting the inside of her cheek she opened her message thread with Harry looking away from his intense gaze. She shared her location for the next twenty-four hours with him. “Thank you,” he said appreciatively getting the alert on his phone. “If y’get into trouble or y’feel unsafe, please jus’ call,” he continued. “I won’t make a big deal of that either.”

He seemed so genuine. Like he really cared about her safety beyond the protocol of his job.

“Okay,” she nodded in promise. “Thank you,” she said seriously. She honestly hoped he sensed the authenticity of her gratitude. Harry was the first person to treat her like a human. Even if she gave him a hard time more often than not.

If she wasn’t careful, she was really going to fall in love with him.

*

It was a shame that her willingness to help Harry out didn’t pan out the way he hoped. When the concert had ended, he thought he had actually done a good job. He kept an eye on her little marker the entire time; she was in place at her seat the duration of the concert. He even got to enjoy a bit of the indie band she was seeing—he heard her play the music on while she worked or read but never really noticed how much he actually liked it. They even put on a good show.

But when most had filed out of her section, he came to the conclusion that she was no longer present. With a groan he headed down to her section, finding not a trace of her behind. But her phone still said she was here. He started searching beneath the seats, dodging sticky soda and alcohol along with popcorn strewn about.

He found an array of jewelry and a condom packet. He even found a wallet that he would bring by to lost and found. But it was her phone that he found that made his body warm with more rage. The flower phone case he was used to seeing around her apartment mocked him. She tricked him. After all that.

The idea of paperwork didn’t compare to the hurt he felt over her betraying deceit.

*

She was enjoying a drink with her friends at one of their favorite spots. For the first time in months, she felt so carefree. They were discussing their latest exams and how nice the concert was. A round of drinks sat empty in front of them while they sipped on the second. Harry was giving her ample space. But that should have been her first clue.

Her arm was yanked out of the booth, and she nearly lost her footing as Harry grabbed onto her but continued to hold her upright.

“Are you fucking serious?” He snapped. Everyone turned to look at him. She scrambled to stand upright. She was ready to scream at him for tugging her out of the booth like that. In front of all her friends. Everyone was silent as she opened her mouth to yell. But then she saw it.

Harry was pissed.

Instantly, she wavered. Her face contorting from anger to worry, sadness. She looked upset. Remorseful even. “Harry,” she started.

“I don’t know what your problem is with me—”

“I didn’t—”

“—but I didn’t do anything t’warrant this!” He shouted, holding her phone up. She instinctively felt for her pocket and realized her mistake. Oh...he was going to kill her.

But still, he was currently embarrassing her.

She wanted to scream right back at him. But she knew he was mad. She knew why he was mad. He asked for hardly anything at all tonight—knowing she was going to leave. It was kind of him to give her so much grace and freedom when no one on that team had ever done so. Even though she left without a word, she truly thought her phone was in her bag. She hadn’t even thought to look for it because she never lost her phone.

“I know y’think s’a big joke. But I take m’job seriously. I take protocol seriously. Jus’ because you want t’pout and cry like a bratty little girl, doesn’t mean y’going t’ruin my life. My career.”

Her eyes narrowed. She hated to be yelled at. Belittled. It made her extremely angry. Regardless of how much she actually liked him. Despite the fact she felt bad she accidentally betrayed his trust. But he was embarrassing her in front of friends and calling her names that everyone else in the department used daily, pissed her off beyond belief.

She glared at him, set her jaw firmly. She could feel frustrated tears lining her vision and she grabbed her purse out of the booth violently. She made no eye contact with the group of her silent friends. She marched right outside to the SUV he had double-parked. Slamming the door shut behind her, she waited until Harry was in the car as well.

“I didn’t know I didn’t have it,” she seethed.

He scoffed. “Bullshit.”

She closed her eyes tightly. So tightly she saw red dancing in her vision. “Believe what you want. I didn’t know,” she snapped. “You were so embarrassing in there. I’m sorry I pissed you off. Again, I really didn’t mean it. But you didn’t have to embarrass me in front of my friends like that.”

“If you’re going to act like a brat—”

She shook her head slowly balling her fists in her lap. “If you call me a brat one more time, I’m going to punch you in the throat,” it was a promise. Harry didn’t think she would cause all that much damage, but he didn’t think it would be wise to take a punch to the throat while he was driving her.

They were silent for five minutes while he drove her back to her place. “You really didn’t know?” He asked, his voice a hair softer.

She glared out the window with a silent shake of her head. “M’sorry,” she murmured.

He sighed and listened to the sound of the tires thrumming against the road for a bit.

“M’sorry I called y’a brat in front of your friends... Can y’please...try t’be...I don’t know...good for me? I like t’think m’not that bad of a guy. M’not that bad at m’job...that I give y’enough space...that we’re...okay.”

More silence until they parked. “You’re the best bodyguard I ever had,” she admitted quietly. “I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

He nodded. “Okay...I accept your apology. Can y’try t’be more mindful?”

She nodded in return. “I’ll try.”

“Call me next time, okay?”

“I don’t know your phone number,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well memorize it,” he sighed a touch of agitation in his tone. She should memorize it for emergencies. “And y’need a failsafe.”

“A what?”

“A failsafe. Assurance that if everything goes—”

“I know what a failsafe is, you ass. What do you mean I need one?”

He ignored her name calling. She deserved one after he called her a brat. “If...something happens t’you. Y’need a way t’get in touch with me. But something that no one else knows. Not even me. But s’got t’be easy enough for me t’figure out. We can go over some of them if y’want that others have used in the past so y’have some ideas t’work with,” he tapped on the steering wheel. “I know I said this was a job, but I do actually care about y’safety.”

She was silent for a few more moments. “If you yell at me like that in front of everyone again, I’ll kill you,” she promised opening her door to head back up to her apartment. He smirked.

“Maybe y’don’t need a failsafe; I pity the person that tries t’take you on.”

*

As frustrating as she could be, she was equally, if not more, lovely in that it made him forget all the paperwork and all the annoyance she caused him. They were on a Target run; she was wandering the aisles casually meandering at her leisure. Harry was eyeing her surroundings, assuring himself there was nothing that would put her in danger.

Honestly, some days he could see why she didn’t want a detail. She didn’t do anything that warranted protection and it didn’t seem like anyone was after her. Not once had he heard from or met with The Secretary of State. While he was grateful for a cushy job, he could see why she was always grumpy about it.

She was scanning new book titles on the shelf and placed two of them in her basket when she suddenly took off without warning. Harry followed after her, caught off guard by her quick pace mildly irritated him once more she evaded him. What he expected of her was never what happened.

She entered the dressing room area, making Harry more irritated that he couldn’t follow her immediately into the women’s section. He wanted to know what he missed, that had her running through the dressing room so fast that she dropped her basket full of mismatching items outside as she hurried back out almost as quickly as she went in.

“You didn’t see her, did you?” She asked Harry before he could ask her what the problem was.

He grabbed her basket that she left behind as she took off once more. He followed after her as she hurried through the other sections of the store.

“See who?” He asked almost running to keep up with her alert pace.

“Seriously?” She asked behind her. “You didn’t hear the frantic mother looking for her child? Aren’t you supposed to be watching for these things?”

He felt his mouth twitch to snap back at her, but she looked genuinely alarmed. Almost as alarmed as the employees in red shirts running around almost as quickly as she was. Despite the sympathetic pang he felt for the upset woman calling a little girl’s name out around the aisles, it wasn’t their problem. It especially wasn’t Harry’s problem who was assigned to watch the 24-year-old—so no, he didn’t really pay attention to the worry in the department store.

“M’sure she’s fine, love,” Harry said trying to assuage her worries. He felt bad, she was so worried. He even felt...awe for her. Her . But she wasn’t giving up it seemed, as she made a quick stop through the clearance section nearly causing Harry to twist an ankle at her sudden turn. She didn’t respond to Harry’s calming voice.

“Someone could have just walked off with her,” she remarked nervously.

Harry could see the fierceness in her eyes. She was resolute: they weren’t leaving the store until this girl was found. Sighing, Harry kept one eye on the girl he was paid to follow and another on the lookout for a small little one that was probably terrified.

Harry tried to tell her something about hideouts and the like, but it was unhelpful. They gleaned they were looking for an eight-year-old. “We’re not thinking like eight-year-olds,” she muttered suddenly and nearly left Harry in the dust as she all but sprinted toward the back of the store once more.

Harry found her crouched in the middle of the aisle, talking to the Halloween costumes on a rack. “Hey, cutie pie, whatcha looking for?” Her voice was soft and gentle.

“I lost my mommy,” the little voice whispered from the rack.

Harry found himself sighing with relief dropping her basket of things by her side. The little girl looked up at Harry suspiciously. She was hidden behind a dog costume and the tule of a tutu beside it. “That’s really scary,” the girl nodded. “I hate losing my mommy,” she said. The little one was still staring at Harry with nervousness.

“This is Harry,” she told her. “He’s tall, huh?” She smiled gently. “Can we help you find your mommy?”

“Mommy said no strangers,” she shook her head pressing herself firmly against the rack, her eyes watery. “I’m scared.”

The girl nodded, sitting on the floor, cross-legged. “Well, I think that’s really smart of you. Mommy would be really proud of you,” she had a comforting smile on her lips. “How about we stay here, and Harry will go get your mommy?”

Harry looked disgruntled as he made a noise in the back of his throat. He couldn’t leave her alone...even for the sake of a child. Even if they were just in a target. “Love,” he started.

She turned her head to Harry. “They are running around the store just to find someone,” she hissed under her breath before turning her gentle façade back to the little girl. “Whatcha got there?” She asked. “Halloween book?” She wondered.

The little one nodded, stepping cautiously off the display of costumes. Tentatively, she sat next to the woman that drove Harry up a wall most days. But right now, she was so gentle, so sweet. Harry felt nothing but pure adoration for her and her kindness to the little one. “Please?” She asked, turning back to Harry as the little one opened the book up and started showing her the pictures in the middle of the floor. Her expression was kind, warm, pleading.

Begrudgingly, Harry headed toward the front of the store in search of the terrified mother.

*

There was a bit of fanfare—especially after realization of who the woman was that found the little one and was reading a picture book on the dusty store floor. She paid no mind to it, said it was her pleasure to help.

After paying for her things, Harry opened the door for her to the SUV and she climbed inside. He felt a bit awestruck. Sure, she was the daughter of a top political official, but that fame didn’t really mean anything to Harry. He was more impressed with her gentle nature. Her kindness. She was cute with kids and had a fiercely protective streak of her own.

She didn’t even mention it; moreover, thought nothing of it, just scrolled through her phone. “Can we get coffee?” She asked.

He thought she might be his hero. Pain in the ass she was. “Course, love,” he murmured. Heroes needed a reward for their efforts. Even if they didn’t see it that way. “You drink an awful lot of coffee.”

“Biochemistry will do that to you,” she muttered, irritated by his remark. It clearly had been said to her before. Somehow, in that moment, Harry realized that she was also fiercely protective of herself. Maybe she had to be given how The Department talked about her behind her back. Maybe because everyone looked at her as if she didn’t know anything as a woman in a science major that Harry could hardly pronounce half the words for when he saw her notes on the coffee table.

“That was really cool of you,” he mumbled pulling into traffic toward the coffee shop. “The way y’helped that little girl.”

She turned to look at Harry. “She was scared,” she sounded defensive. Like Harry was mocking her.

“I know,” he said seriously. “Y’calmed her down and y’helped her. Was really nice,” he shrugged one shoulder hoping he sounded more sincere so she wouldn’t yell again.

She turned to the window. “I got lost at the store once with my dad,” she explained. “I was six. I was terrified. He didn’t even know I was lost until he drove home,” she mumbled. “It was the most terrified I’ve ever felt in my whole life.”

He pulled into the parking lot and she hurried out before Harry could say another word. He watched her intently as she stood in line, ordered, and returned with tea for Harry without even asking him if he wanted some. She was always very thoughtful toward him. Whether she annoyed him beyond belief or not.

For every moment of irritation, anxiety, and annoyance she had put him through thus far on this assignment, it all was swept clean as he thought about what she said. Her dad asking for a protection detail made no sense. Who loses their six-year-old without noticing? Was the protection detail some deep-seated need to fix his mistake all those years ago? What kind of political official could hold office with a straight face knowing his daughter had that kind of dirt on him? How could she not shout it from rooftops?

Harry was right. She had to be fiercely protective of herself because no one else was.

He hoped that eventually she would let him protect her just as much; maybe even stop her frustrating fleeing. Because despite the irritation she often caused, he was really starting to like the many sides of her.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

Protection taglist: @youcouldstartacult @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @luxiorchive @ameerakane20 @daphnesutton @kathb59 @be-with-me-so-happily

[ilovefakemilitarymen]

Deal with the Devil

Professor!John Price x Student!Reader (Part 1)

——————————————

A/N: Originally posted this to AO3 and then decided to start a Tumblr account for some COD x readers and headcanons. So, if any body is interested, my requests will be open for the next couple of weeks till I hit about 10-15 or maybe more if this gets a lot of love. I’ll be posting a list of who I’ll write for later today. Enjoy!

Word Count: ~3.4k

CW: Inappropriate Teacher/Student relationship///This part is pretty tame, it’s the later parts you have to worry about but each will have their own warnings attached.

The truth was as simple as this: You were failing History.

Terribly at that, and it would take an act from whichever god would take pity on you to get your grade above the F you were currently sporting on your most recent report card. You were determined to get at least a C by the time the next report card came around, just so you wouldn’t have to take the same damn class for another semester.

The second truth was not as simple: Your teacher was as hot as the sun in the Nevada desert during the summer solstice.

He was a man that played by the rules, teaching tough love in the form of not giving a shit when you didn’t turn a paper in on time. His rules were strict, and so was his grading system. Professor Price was going to be the death of your college career. That didn’t keep you from eyeing the way he moved during the lecture, and it didn’t help that he was the type to make eye contact with each of his students to make sure they were paying attention, forcing you to keep your eyes off of his body and on his face for the entire hour that he spent lecturing the class on the different wars that had plagued the earth.

Despite failing, you had to admit his class was one you had looked forward to. However, it's not because you had a love for history, it’s to ogle the man that taught you. You should probably feel bad, but you didn’t. You couldn’t focus when he wore the furthest thing from educational wear, usually sporting a simple tee that fit him a little bit too well and either a pair of dress pants or coming in what looked like uniform pants that you could only guess were from his earlier days in the military. He had never talked about his days before becoming a professor, but you could about guess it was something that kept him fit by the way his muscles threatened to shred his thin shirt.

However, none of this could explain why you were now leaning over his desk, trying to bribe him into taking the paper you had tried to turn in late.

Price leans back in his chair in the front of the class, hitting his pen against his hand and taking in every word you had whispered to him, trying to keep your voice down as much as possible.

“Isn’t there any way you can take the paper?” Your hands press heavily against the edge of his desk. There aren't many times that you had come up to him instead of it being the other way around. He was continuously trying to get you to turn your work in on time, but lo and behold, it seems that his prodding had gone in one ear and out the other.

“No,” He speaks sternly, and you can’t help the way your shoulders drop at his words.

“But-” You begin again, but he cuts you off before you can even say anything else.

“You should have turned it in,” He shrugs, his more nonchalant attitude coming out in his words. You knew he didn’t give a shit if you failed but you wished he would at least take some pity on you. “I told you multiple times when it was due, and you ignored it.” His eyes shone with mischief, and you knew he was a man that had seen a lot worse than a student practically on her knees, begging for a second chance.

“I promise it won’t happen again, sir” You tacked on the last bit, trying to play into the small power trip he has, but it does nothing. “Just give me one more chance.”

“And I’m supposed to trust that?” His words aren’t harsh when they come out of his mouth, just stern, “You had multiple chances to turn that paper in on time, so your irresponsibility doesn’t seem like it’s my problem.” He leans back up on his desk as he speaks, nodding towards the small folder in your hand.

You had worked all night trying to get this paper written, staying up damn near the sunrise just to get it to him on time, only to realize the due date was yesterday when you had moved to turn it in.

Your words come out with not much thought from you, but the smirk on his face spurs you on, “Just this once, please. I’ll do anything, sir.”

You hadn’t realized how much trouble your words would get you into just yet.

Price leans back in his chair again, continuing to fiddle with his pen as he gives you a small chuckle. It’s barely there but you hear it and his words come shortly after, “Anything?” You give him a small nod at his words, “You know what they say about making deals with the devil?”

“No…” You breathe out slightly at his words and they imply something, but you’re not quite sure. You can’t help but look down at his arms. There’s no way he’s implying what you think he’s implying, but you don’t stop your mind from wandering.

“Then I guess we don’t have a deal,” He leans back up moving to begin grading papers again, “You’ll just have to accept the grade you earned.” He doesn’t give you another look, instead his pen moves against the paper as he tries his best to ignore your presence.

“Wait- What do they say, about making deals with the devil?” You continue to lean on his desk, voice low. “I’d sell my soul for a good grade in this class, sir. I’m begging.”

“You’d sell your soul, would you?” His face turns towards you, a small smirk playing at his lips, and you have to admit he looks god-damn attractive like that, about a foot or so between the two of you. You can only nod, eyes glancing down at his hands once again.

You don’t care if he’s just some creep wanting you to suck him off in the back closet once for him to take your late paper, and you also don’t admit to yourself that you would probably do it if he offered, good grade or not. He’s the hottest thing you’ve laid your eyes on in years and a heat pools in your abdomen at the thought of it.

“I don’t know about your soul, but we might be able to make another deal.” His words are low as he speaks, his face turning back to his papers, and his pen moves, marking little details in the margin of the paper.

“Anything, I’d do anything…” Your words trail off, waiting to hear whatever he has to say.

He nods, taking in your words before he moves to put his hands under his chin. There’s a devious smile under his mutton chops, and when he finally speaks, it’s not what you really expected him to say. “I want you to be my personal errand girl for the rest of the semester.” He takes in your reaction, eyes on your face for a reaction, “That means you’ll grade papers for me, fetch me coffee, and do whatever else I need you to do.” Your shoulders slump slightly, and you can’t believe you had fully expected him to tell you he’d be bending you over his desk for a passing grade. Your eyes don’t catch the way his lips had darted out to wet his lips at the words, ‘anything else’. “And in return, I’ll give you a passing grade, but if you fail to do so, I won’t hesitate to fail you.”

“Is that all? I can manage that.” You say confidently. You can be his personal lap dog for the rest of the semester. It really didn’t seem all that bad.

“Oh, I don’t think you understand the full extent of what I’m asking,” You watch his face as he speaks, “But if you’re willing, then we have a deal.” He raises his hand to you, intending to shake on the agreement.

“What?” You say a little bit snarky, “I get you coffee when you ask for it, and you say jump and I ask how high?” You reach your hand out, placing your palm in his. The calluses against his palm scratch against your soft one.

“Something like that,” He speaks as he shakes your hand, and you don’t realize that one handshake will be your unraveling. “We’ll discuss the details after class. For now, get back to your seat and let me finish grading these papers.”

“Of course,” You nod eagerly, placing the folder on his desk before turning to make your way back to your own seat, and he turns back down, moving through the papers with grace, marking along the pages at the right and wrong information.

Professor Price has always been a little bit of a wildcard, but you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief when you finally get back to your seat. You’re not sure what you had actually got yourself into, but you swear to yourself not to screw up the chance he’s given you. The work in front of you is completed rather quickly, which is lucky considering you can’t focus through class and have to rely solely on the reading. You can’t help it that the sheer circumference of the man's arms get more attention from you than the words he speaks. It would be nice if your slight infatuation with him would garner you some way to get information from his words instead of turning your brain into a pile of mush.

Your gaze moves up to him, and you catch his eyes on you. He gives you a small smirk, and you can tell he’s quite pleased to have you agree to his little deal, and you can’t help but feel slightly flustered from the unwarranted attention. He’s probably just excited to get some of his workload off of him.

Your eyes stay turned to him, even after he looks away, and you know you shouldn’t stare, but you can’t really help yourself. Your work is finished in front of you, so taking a break from the reading to watch him grade his papers shouldn’t hurt.

His arms are lean, and his muscles seem to flex each time he raises his arm to flick his pen against one of the papers. Your mind flows back into wondering just what it was he had done before deciding to become a professor. Despite it being in the past, he definitely continues to work out since there’s no way he’s keeping a physique like that just lounging around the house all day.

“Something on your mind?” His voice comes out, tearing you out of your thoughts and you look up, realizing he had caught your eyes on him.

You decide to say fuck it, and shoot, asking him the question you had wondered for the last couple of weeks, “What did you do before you were a professor, sir?” Your question garners a few looks from the other students in class, their eyes turning to him, probably wondering the same thing.

“Well,” He lays his pen down before he speaks, “I’ve had quite the career,” His voice carries through the classroom, looking at you before turning his gaze to the other students. “I served in the military for many years, fought in several wars, but,” His eyes are on you again, “Now I’m here teaching the next generation.”

You nod to him, turning your attention to the textbook in front of you but the voice of another student pries you away from it, “Explains the drill sergeant attitude.” It’s followed by a small laugh. Price just shrugs, not really disagreeing with him.

Price finally dismisses the class moments later, slightly early, but you do your best to lag behind, gathering your things in your bag, and throwing it over your shoulder as the last student filters out. You move to walk to his desk, knowing he’d want to talk to you about your little ‘agreement’. Price is also packing up his things, stuffing papers into a folder before he pushes it into what looks like a laptop bag.

His eyes pull towards yours, and you watch as he lays a heavy hand down on his desk, “First things first, I expect you to be at my beck and call whenever I need you,” He pulls the bag over his shoulder as he speaks.

“Yes sir,” You speak, nodding at him. Your hands play with each other nervously.

“If I ask you to fetch me coffee, you do so. If I need you to grade papers for me, you do so.” He speaks and you continue to nod to him.

He continues, “Good, secondly, I’ll need you to keep my schedule organized,” He hands you a small planner, and you come to realize this is going to be a little more time-consuming than you had expected. “You’ll be responsible for making sure I’m on time, whether it’s a class, a meeting, or any other obligations.” He studies you as he speaks, “Lastly, I expect you to be discreet about our agreement. I don’t do this for any other student, so no one needs to know about this. If anyone asks, you’re simply helping me with some extra work. If it gets out, I won’t think twice about failing you.” He watches you as you nod to his requests, but you can’t help the itch at the back of your brain. “Is that clear?”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” You speak, eyes resting on his, “Helping you with extra work?”

“Yes, that is one way to put it.” He smirks slightly, “And you’re not to question my authority or disobey my orders.” He leaves the air open for a moment, gauging your reaction to his words, “Understood?”

The way he speaks, just in his simple tone, makes a heat pool between your legs, but you have to pull yourself out of your thoughts. He doesn’t mean anything by it, it’s his military nature. You’re sure he had a high rank, his commanding presence sure to make anybody weak in the knees.

“Yes sir,” I speak, my words a lot lower than I had meant. It feels like a big secret, something shared with you and you alone. You can’t help that it makes you excited.

“Is there anything else you’d like to clear up,” He speaks before he adds, “You seem a little distracted.” His words are low, but you have to push the feeling that rises in you down. He’s your professor, he’s just trying to make sure you understand what he’s saying.

“This just feels a little more secretive than I was expecting.” Your words tumble out of their own accord.

“Our agreement is a little less...conventional than most,” He gives you a small smile, innocent in nature, but you can’t help but get excited. It is something that only you and he share. “I don’t offer extra credit for anyone else, and we wouldn’t want to make any other student jealous, would we?” You shake your head at his question. “Plus, I think you’re up for the challenge, aren’t you?”

You can feel your heart rate pick up, “Yes sir.”

“Now, I expect you to keep me on schedule,” He taps on the planner resting in your hands, and you nod at him eagerly. “And if you do a good job, I’ll reward you with some extra credit.”

You nod to him again, hoping you don’t come off as too excited, “I’ll do my best, sir.”

“I’m sure you will,” He moves around the desk, “You can go ahead and head out for today, I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

You adjust the bag on your shoulder, moving to put his planner in as you head out of the classroom. You can feel his eyes on you as you leave, and it leaves you with a feeling of excitement and anticipation. You had never expected him to give in and offer you extra credit. It’s definitely going to be a lot of hard work on your part but you’re practically buzzing at the idea of being able to do these things for him in exchange for a better grade. You’re willing to do what it takes to get through this in one piece, and hopefully not have to take another history class in the next semester.

------

That night, you finally open up his planner, eyes roaming over all the things he does in his day. You look across the margins where he has small dates and times in place, and various meetings are strewn across the pages. To put it simply, the entire planner is a damn mess. No wonder he had asked you to keep up with it. Just looking at it would give any normal human a headache.

You scoff, pulling out your own planner that admittedly doesn’t get much use. At least you can use the thing you had spent an ungodly amount of money on during this agreement. You look through the pages of his planner, transferring whatever information you could get into a better format into your own planner.

Along one of the pages, you find what seems to be his personal phone number. You quickly put it into your phone, making a mental note to give him a call in the morning. He probably already knows about the class, but you don’t want to disappoint, so you decide to tell him every time he has something to do, including the regularly scheduled things that are probably muscle memory to him at this point.

There’s a meeting about an hour after his first class, and then another evening class around 3. It shouldn’t be too hard to just let him know after class that he has a meeting to attend. You close the planners, putting the both of them into your bag before cutting the small desk lamp off and heading to bed.

The alarm blares loudly the next morning, pulling you out of your sleep, and within moments, you shoot up, remembering your deal with Professor Price. Your hand reaches around for your phone, finding it half stuck under some pillows. You cut the alarm off before moving to your contacts, taking a deep breath, finding his name, and pressing call.

Your nerves are on edge from the simple task of waking him up. The entire thing is now reeling in your head. What if he hadn’t wanted you to call him?

His voice is groggy when he finally picks up the phone, laced with sleep and it sends a jolt directly between your legs, “Hello?” He sounds slightly confused.

You cut to the chase fairly quickly, “It’s (y/n), found your number in your planner and thought you might want to know you have a class in an hour.” You hold your breath afterward, hoping that this is exactly what he had wanted from you.

“Right, right.” His voice comes heavy through the receiver, and you barely hear him mumble something that sounds a lot like ‘smart girl’ before he’s back to speaking to you again, “Thank you, I’ll be there on time.” He huffs a small chuckle now, and it sets your skin ablaze from the roughness of his early morning voice, “You’re proving to be quite useful already.”

It’s ridiculous what his small praise does to you, and you know that if he was there with you, you would have to keep yourself from falling to pieces, but he’s not, and you’re alone in your small solo dorm. You have free reign to lay your head back on the pillow and bask in his voice.

“Glad to be of service, sir.” Your voice comes out lower than you had wanted, but fuck, you can’t find it in yourself to care. You follow it with a light laugh.

“You’re going to be a very valuable asset to me,” You keen at the praise, and he continues to speak. “I’ll see you in class.” He finishes and the phone line goes dead. You let it rest against your chest and curse yourself.

This is gonna be a hell of a lot harder if he keeps praising you like that.

[deadhumourist]

I'll take care of you

Pairing: Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: You're sick and an unexpected source of help shows up.

Word count: ~2400

Rating: M, but there's no spice. This is a strictly 18+ blog, no minors.

Warnings: No pronouns used, no physical description of reader or mention of age. Nicknames used - Sweetheart and baby, self-indulgent fluff, fainting, mention of painkillers, let me know if I missed something.

A/N: I originally wrote this for my bestie when she was sick, and she kindly allowed me to adapt this into a fic. Love you @just-here-for-the-moment

------

You knew when you woke up with a pounding headache and a stuffy nose that your day was going to go downhill. Fast. 

Not being someone who got sick often, this sensation of your head weighing twenty pounds felt overwhelming. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you had been woken up by a loud banging noise during the night - loud enough to make you jolt awake - from neighbours who had been out late and were now returning with a raucous group of friends. The shot of adrenaline from the fright didn’t leave your system for a long time and you tossed and turned until you heard birds twittering in the trees outside. 

Now awake and groggy, you rolled over and grabbed your phone. You were supposed to have brunch with your friend later that morning but at this rate you couldn’t even breathe through your nose. Blearily you unlocked the phone and shot her a text. 

“Hey, I’m down this morning, could I please take a raincheck? ” 

A few minutes later your phone beeped. “Yeah hon, no problem. I hope you feel better. Can I bring you anything?” 

You sent her back the green-faced emoji. “I would kill for a Netipot and some painkillers”

She sent you back a thumbs up emoji. 

Slipping the phone back on the table, you laid back. Your eyes felt like they were going to drop out of your head every time you moved. 

You dozed off for the better part of an hour, and was then awoken by a sharp rap on the door. "Coming!" you called weakly from your spot on the bed. Throwing on a robe, you shuffled to the front door, thankful that your friend (and painkillers) were here.

The door swung open and your eyes widened in shock…In front of you stood Frankie, armed with a bag of things and his phone in his hand, earphones hooked into the neck of his t-shirt along with his sunglasses.

Frankie was a friend who you knew through other friends. Specifically the one you spoke to this morning. Who you had told about your crush on him. The one who knew, in no uncertain terms, that you felt he was out of your league and that there was a big, unromantic DNI slapped to his forehead in your mind. 

You instinctively closed up your robe further and shrugged into yourself. 

"Oh, hi Frankie. I…uh..I was expecting someone else."

You immediately cringed at how unfriendly that came out.

He seemingly ignored it, a frown forming on his forehead as he took you in.

"You look terrible."

Sighing deeply, you failed to stop a little cough from skittering out of your throat. 

"Yeah, thanks. I feel that way. Good morning to you too, by the way.” 

Frankie had been told you were sick but when he saw you standing in the doorway…it was so much worse than he imagined. You didn’t have your usual spark or smile, and the way you shrunk into your bathrobe like an injured little bird made his heart squeeze painfully. He was originally only meant to drop off the supplies, but seeing your tired, worn-out frame changed his plans immediately. He didn’t even think about it, the words just seemed to leave his lips of their own accord and all he could do was keep up. 

With the corner of his mouth lifting at your quip, he invited himself in, gently ushering you back inside and closing the door behind him. 

“Uhm…at the risk of sounding ungrateful, what are you doing here?” You eyed him as he walked into your living room. 

“A little bird told me you were sick so I brought supplies over. I’m going to take care of you.” he replied matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

"I don't know about this" you wheezed.

Ignoring your protest, he busied himself unpacking the items from the bag before turning around and quipping. "You want me to get a nurse's outfit? Will that make you feel better?"  His smug little grin did nothing to dispel the idea of him in scrubs that you could peel off. 

Before you could fantasize any further you went into a coughing fit, which doubled you over. Frankie sped over and took your hand to help you back upright, little cough aftershocks still shaking your ribs. 

He was suddenly very close, concerned eyes looking into yours. His hand traveled up your arm and squeezed your shoulder gently. 

In a low voice, he murmured "Get on the bed, Sweetheart."

In a slight daze you went, obeying him. He’s never used that particular nickname with you before, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t make something delicious preen inside of you. You wanted more of it. Frankie had always just been kind and sweet but something in his voice made your skin flame. 

He switched the kettle on and prepared some herbal tea. Then he extracted the thermometer from its packaging and set it by the bedside table. You watched with wide eyes as he went about his business in your space like he was at home there. 

Finishing the tea, he set it down and took a seat by your side on the bed, one leg casually slung over the other. He seemed to slide into the role of carer effortlessly and you would have been amused were you not feeling like you were on the brink of death. Taking the thermometer, he flicked it a few times before bringing it to your lips. 

"Open for me" he asked softly. 

When the thermometer beeped, he slid it from your lips and looked at the reading. 

"Mierda, it's high”. He never cussed in front of you, but the distinct tone of worry bled through the words as they hung in the air between you.  

"We need to cool you down, otherwise you're going to feel worse. We gotta break this fever, okay?"

“We?” you asked, aiming for a teasing tone but failing miserably short due to the weakness in your voice. He continued as if he didn’t hear you. 

He got up and motioned to you. "The robe's gotta go. You need to cool down."

"But" you started to protest but his plush lips settled into a disapproving line and you knew it would be pointless to argue. Frankie wasn’t one to argue but you knew when he had drawn a line and would not be moved from it. 

You shrugged it off, revealing your favourite pajamas underneath - it was mismatched and well-worn but comfy . He took the robe and hung it on a nearby hook, then proceeded to take his shoes and cap off. It gave you some time to swallow two painkillers with your tea.

Then you just laid back and watched him, too tired and wrung out to argue. He rummaged in the bag then walked to the bathroom where you heard the water splash in the basin. 

The cool air on your heated skin was nice but your lungs were becoming sore from the constant coughing. “What are you doing now?” you grumped at him from your nest of blankets. 

He smiled to himself over the basin; you were a grumpy patient and instead of irritating him, it just made him soft. But being soft with you wouldn’t necessarily get you better, especially not if you kept resisting his help. 

So when he spoke to you next, he was a little more stern. 

"C’mon, stop arguing with me and scoot down."

Your fever-addled brain didn't immediately comprehend.

He repeated the request, clarifying.

"Scoot down so I can sit behind you."

"Whuu…why?"

"Please, just trust me."

You did as he asked and he slid in behind you, framing your torso with his knees so that you rested back onto his chest, your head nestled close to his neck so he could easily reach down to talk to you. 

He produced the cool washcloth and gently held it to your forehead and cheeks, pressing it to you a little firmer to tilt your head back onto his collarbone. 

"See how good it feels when you don't fight me on everything?" he murmured lowly, close to your ear. The way his stubble barely skimmed the shell of your ear made goosebumps erupt down your arm. 

Worrying the sudden goosebumps were a reaction from the fever, he resolved to finish up quickly and get you closer to cool water.

If only he knew what was really causing it. 

“Okay, new plan, we need to get you to cool water. You’re still burning up.” 

“You sayin’ I’m hot?” you grumbled.

“I’m saying you have a fever and if we don’t get it down, things will go south.” 

He moved off the bed and helped you up. Carefully, he kept his hand on your lower back as you shuffled to the bathroom, where he opened the faucet and positioned you in front of the basin. You splashed your face and then suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over you. 

"I feel a bit dizzy" you murmured, hand coming up to your face. 

Frankie uttered a worried "hmmm". Perhaps it was a mistake getting you out of bed, but he desperately needed to get your temperature down. A split second decision made him run the shower cold, and shedding his t-shirt and socks, grabbed you by the waist and dragged you under the spray with him just as you started to lose consciousness. 

He hugged you close to him, your back pressed to his front. In an urgent, fervent whisper he rocked you under the cold water, counting down the seconds.

"Sweetheart, stay with me. Come on, baby, I've got you. I've got you, you're okay, I'll take care of you. C'mon baby."

Anxiety squeezed the lungs in his chest until it felt like they would burst. He tilted your head back slightly to allow the cool water to run down your neck and chest. 

Frankie could feel his pulse rabbit as the seconds ticked by. In the shower cubicle, the steady stream of water and whispers against your skin slowly pulled you back from the edge. 

You felt a chaste kiss being gently pressed to your temple, followed by another whisper. 

"Stay with me, please."

And then barely audible over the spray.

"Please be okay."

He sighed into the small space where every second felt minutes too long. 

You felt yourself coming back from the brink of the fevered dark quicker now, shivering at the pelting spray on your heat-sensitized body. 

Frankie noticed the small movement in his arms and he could have wept right then. 

He grabbed your hand from thankfulness, threading his fingers though yours and bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. Slowly you also became aware of his bare chest pressed to your back, evidently not caring about cold shower tiles. 

"I thought I lost you for a minute there" he scoffed, relief bleeding through the words. 

With one hand feeling around above him, he managed to turn the shower off, and helped you into a towel. Wrapping the fluffy white towel around you, he rubbed gently, making sure to wick as much water as possible. He lead you back to the bed, and helped you sit down on the edge of it.

You slumped once you were sat, with Frankie kneeling in front of you. 

"You can't sleep in wet clothes. Let's get you changed." he intoned gently. 

"I don't have the energy, Frankie. Please." you whined, hanging your head low. You felt vulnerable after almost fainting in his arms and didn't want to repeat the performance. 

He placed a hand gently on your knee. 

"Sweetheart. Let me help.”

You looked at him, your frown lines forming like thunderclouds on a sunny horizon. He tried to make you smile. 

"Think of me as Doctor Frankie just helping a patient." he said with a lop-sided grin.

Your frown line softened and you prodded. 

"Did you just promote yourself? You were Nurse Frankie when you came in.

He squeezed your knee and smiled boyishly. “I’ll go so you can change.” 

A few minutes later, he came back into the room, pleased to see you in bed and under the covers. Sheepishly he stood around until you piped up with a small voice. 

“Will you lie with me until I fall asleep?”

He grinned at you, and without a word, went to hang his wet jeans over the bath tub. You realised that Frankie, having been in the shower with you, would have no dry clothes of his own here. You threw him a lifeline.

“Uhm…Frankie, there are some old swimming trunks from my brother on the second shelf. They were left here months ago, they’re washed, so…” you trailed off. 

You heard more shuffling and then he appeared in the doorway. From your cosy place in bed you tried really hard not to look at his broad chest and the dusting of dark hair that trailed down under his navel. 

As the bed dipped under his weight, he swung his legs inside the covers and laid back into the large pillow. He looked over at you, his focus soft, a few curls air-dried  falling over his forehead. 

"Come here, beautiful." He husked, and lifted his arm up. 

You looked at him for a moment, incredulous at the offer. A small part of you was still grumping inside and needed comfort so you gingerly moved closer to him. As you shifted, you laid your head on his chest, snuggling into the corner of his arm and shoulder. 

You wriggled a little to get comfortable, and once you settled, his scent was right by your nose; the fresh, cinnamon-like cologne he had applied hours before. Something really sexy but comforting emanated from him, something uniquely male and you nuzzled a little further into him, swinging a leg between his own two.

He made room for you. 

Then he reached over with his other hand and gently cupped the back of your head, holding you close. It made you want to purr. This wasn't just comfort, it was heaven. 

Frankie felt content for the first time that day. He had always skirted around you to avoid facing what he already suspected he felt.

He would nurse you back to health before he asked you out, he resolved as his eyes slipped closed. 

[jorogumohime]

“I swear to you, with my body, life and soul, that I will return.”

Pairing: Ace x Fem!Reader

Warning: Ace and reader having a kinda big argument over him leaving to find Blackbeard, Ace almost burning reader

Important Note: first time writing angst so it’s not really sad, at least what i think 🤷‍♀️

Spoiler warning.

“Ace.” You said with a cold and almost harsh tone. No words could describe the rage and sorrow you felt this very moment, within every minute that passed, you felt the irritation grow. Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he tell you about any of this? Why was Marco your information source?

“Y/N.. You probably know about it already, right..?” The disappointment from his side was heard in his voice, it was almost trembling. A feeling of guilt rushed over you before you realized ‘No, I’m not supposed to feel bad.’

“Ace.. I don’t even know what to say.. Why.. Why didn’t you tell me..? You told everyone on the ship but not me.. is that why everyone has been acting so weird around me lately..?” Sadness was sprinkled in your voice like sprinkles on a cupcake, except this time, it wasn’t as sweet.

“Y/N.. I.. I wanted to tell you I just.. I didn’t..” He started stammering over his own words, avoiding eye contact with you while trying to find the fitting words. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. I.. I know you would call me reckless and get really mad at me if you found out… which is why I didn’t wanna tell you.. I’m.. sorry.” You felt rage run through your bloodstream and enter your head.

“Ace, do you not see.. How serious this actually is!? Seriously? I know I’m proving your point right now but did you just plan on not telling me and then just disappear like it’s no ones business!!?” You tried to avoid shouting as much as possible, you really did, but with what was happening right now, you weren’t sure that was an option.

“Honestly! You said that you didn’t want me to worry about you but how was I supposed to do that either way!?” He looked at you with guilt and knew you were right. “Y/N.. I-“

“NO! Listen to me! Why are you always..” You felt tears gathering up in your eyes, why was he so careless? Only a gaze of rage, disappointment and sadness could be shown on your face. “Y/N, you don’t get it.. How the hell do you expect me to just sit and watch while my crewmate got KILLED by him!?”

Now it was your turn to realize he was right. “Y/N I know you’re upset right now but… you’re making it seem like you seriously don’t care about this crew or no.. not even a crew.. this family! at all!” Why would he say that? You loved this family, you loved everyone in it. Your love is why your arguing with him right now in the first place and he has the audacity to accuse you of not caring.

“Y-you’re… DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHY I’M HERE, ARGUING WITH YOU RIGHT NOW!? YOU’RE ACCUSING ME OF NOT CARING LIKE YOU DIDN’T AVOID TELLING ME THIS AND JUST PLANNED TO DISAPPEAR WITHOUT ME EVER KNOWING WHERE OR WHY YOU LEFT!”

At this point you started crying, full tears spilling through your eyes, reminding you of your drunk nights together when you would spill sake everywhere while having so much fun. Only realizing that there’s a big chance of you two not experiencing those fun nights again if he left.

Ace got upset as well, realizing he also had the right to be upset and not just you. The dim light shining through during these late hours, you both eventually stopped caring about your volume. “IF YOU WOULD ACTUALLY CARE THEN YOU’D SHUT UP AND LET ME DO THIS!” Rage hugged you as if it were your best friend, and in this moment, it felt like it was the only best friend you had right now.

“DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF RIGHT NOW!?” You glared at him in shock and rage, having so many words you wanted to spill before his ears. “I CARE A LOT ABOUT YOU AND EVERYONE IN THIS CREW, I TRULY FEEL TERRIBLE FOR WHAT HAPPENED TO THATCH AND IT ALWAYS KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT BUT YOU JUST.. You just.. can’t leave me here alone..”

You lost your ability to yell. You just wanted him to stay here, or at least let you go with him. “If you’re gonna go.. at least let me go with you, Ace..” Your voice was trembling, tears were spilling, eyes and limbs were shaking. He came closer, and held you in his arms to comfort you.

“Y/N.. I.. I c-can’t.. I.. I care about you so much. I know I’ll probably die during this but at least you’ll live. That’s what I want..”

You looked up at him, feeling the rage return. Your gaze darkened and got more serious. “What you want..? W-what about what I want..? I don’t want you to die..” You were both at loss for words, both extremely exhausted, only relaxing against eachother in your arms for a solid five minutes before you spoke up again.

“Ace.. if we both go.. There’s a higher chance we’ll live.. both of our powers combined.. we can do it.. I promise.. And if we can’t.. at least we’ll die together..” Your voice was calm yet trembling. Slow tears slipped through your eyes and down your cheeks.

“Y/N.. Please understand.. You can’t come.. I’m begging you, please understand why I’m doing this.” You moved away from him, putting the same distance as before between you two.

“If you die, then I’ll be alone. If I die, then you’ll be alone. If we both die.. let’s just hope heaven would let us be together and if we both survive.. we’ll still have eachother.” Somehow he still didn’t understand.

“Y/N.” He began with a more stern and serious voice. “I won’t repeat the same point again. End of conversation, I will go, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” You realized he was genuinely annoyed, but this is his entire life he’s risking. You didn’t take that lightly and neither should he.

You glared at him with a neutral, cold expression and opened your mouth. “This is your entire life your playing with. I don’t care if you’re tired, you go to sleep when you remember you’re a human, with an entire life you’re about to throw away.”

Cold expressions were taped on both your faces. “I told you already, I’m not gonna argue about this anymore. Enough Y/N. I’ve made up my mind, so did pops and the rest of the crew. Go sleep, it’s late.” You’ve never heard him talk with such a monotone and cold voice before, and honestly, it scared you.

Despite being scared, you needed to get your point across. He started walking out of the room, and you sprinted to him and gripped his wrist tightly. “Ace! Don’t ignore me! Seriously! Please just listen! I’m not the one who needs to understand, you are! How can you throw your life away like this! You’re not alone Ace just please let me at least help you if you’re not gonna stay!”

You continued, “You mentioned the crews mind is already made up, but mine isn’t! Am I not part of the crew!? Do I not have a say in this as your crewmate, best friend and even girlfriend..?” He didn’t even bother looking at you, his mind raced and a soup with the ingredients being multiple different emotions was cooking in his head.

“Y/N, enough.” He said with a dark and low voice.

“NO! YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT WHAT I HAVE TO SAY, PLEASE ACE JUST PLEASE REALIZE THAT YOU’RE ALSO IMPORTANT! WHAT DOES THIS CREW WIN IF WE LOSE ANOTHER CREWMATE OR FAMILY MEMBER!?” Your tears slipped out again, this time, not being as slow and calm as when he held you in his arms.

He knew how much you cared, he knew everything, but for the sake of this situation, he didn’t say anything. Only waiting until your arguments died out and you eventually calmed down. Except, you didn’t.

Words kept bubbling up and your voice got higher and higher, he felt rage course through his veins and at this point, he saw red. He moved away from you and pulled his arm back from your grip forcefully and roughly.

“ENOUGH ALREADY! YOU KEEP MAKING UP STUPID ARGUMENTS AND BENDING MY WORDS TO MAKE IT SEEM LIKE YOU’RE IN THE RIGHT! BE QUIET ALREADY!” He waved his arms around in rage to show his body language, accidentally lighting them on fire and almost hitting you.

You stumbled back in fear trying to avoid the warm fire, flinching away quickly almost tripping over before catching yourself. He quickly collected his flames, now regretting how far this argument got.

He saw your legs slowly backing away and your expression being one of fear and regret. You were both at loss for words. You kept moving until your back landed against the corner of the room. Not daring to move, you stayed there and observed him carefully.

“I-I..” He stuttered. Wanting to get closer to you but knowing it’s probably best if he stays at the distance he is right now and waited a moment until you’ve both calmed down. You felt your eyelids get tired and your energy fading away, only wanting to lay down with him while holding eachother delicately like the loving couple you were just a few hours ago.

“Y-Y/N I.. I’m..” He was trying to find the right words to apologize, you both went too far and you knew a simple ‘I’m sorry’ wouldn’t fix it. You got the courage to move and fixed your posture to walk over to him and quickly leaned onto him, placing your head on his chest and hugging his waist tightly like a koala on a branch.

He waited a few seconds to test the waters and wrapped his arms around you carefully and gently. “I-I went too far.. I.. Y/N I didn’t m-mean to-“ You quickly hushed him and replied before he finished his sentence. “No, Ace, I went too far. I didn’t mean to do all that or say all that.. I was upset.. I know were both tired of hearing ‘I care’ and ‘you care’ over and over again but genuinely.. I really care about you. Honestly..”

You both felt your eyes starting to feel a bit sour while you continued. “Since the day I met you I knew we would get along.. but I never thought we would come to this point in our relationship together.. A-and..” You started to cry in his arms, but it felt comforting almost.

“I-I’m sorry for everything.. I never w-wanted for us to.. argue like this..” You sobbed into his chest and his arms only tightened around you. “Y/N.. I know you care.. I was also upset and.. I guess when you get mad you say stuff.. you don’t really mean..”

“But please promise me this.. none of this will affect anything between us.. please..” He said with a trembling voice. “I promise, Ace.”

You kept hugging eachother and stayed like that for a while until he opened his mouth again. “You can’t change what I’m gonna do.. I’m sorry but I won’t let Blackbeard get away with this.”

“There’s a chance I might die, but, I’ll get rid of those chances. I promise you, Y/N.” You stayed in his arms, too tired to move and waited until he was finished. “I.. I swear to you.. with my body, life and soul.. that I will return.”

[brostateexam]

Writers have always endured indignities in Hollywood. But, as long as there are millions to be grabbed, the trade-off has been bearable—except when it isn’t. The past month has brought the discontent of television writers to a boiling point. In mid-April, the Writers Guild of America (the modern successor to the Screen Writers Guild) voted to authorize a strike, with a decisive 97.85 per cent in favor. The guild’s current contract with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers expires on May 1st; if the negotiations break down, it will be the W.G.A.’s first strike since late 2007 and early 2008. At issue are minimum fees, royalties, staffing requirements, and even the use of artificial intelligence in script production—but the over-all stakes, from the perspective of TV writers, feel seismic. “This is an existential fight for the future of the business of writing,” Laura Jacqmin, whose credits include Epix’s “Get Shorty” and Peacock’s “Joe vs. Carole,” told me; like the other writers I spoke to, she had voted for the strike authorization. “If we do not dig in now, there will be nothing to fight for in three years.” TV writers seem, on the whole, miserable. “The word I would use,” Jacqmin said, “is ‘desperation.’ ”

How did it come to this? About a decade ago, in the era of “Mad Men,” “Breaking Bad,” and “Veep,” TV writing seemed like one of the coolest, best-paying jobs a writer could have. As with the talkie boom of the nineteen-thirties, playwrights and journalists were flocking to Hollywood to partake in the heyday of prestige TV. It was fun. “We were all just trying to figure out, like, where to live. How do we sublet? Do we buy a car? Do we rent a car?” Liz Flahive recalled. In 2008, Flahive had just had a play produced Off Broadway when she got hired to write for “Untitled Edie Falco Project,” which became Showtime’s “Nurse Jackie.” TV, unlike big-budget movies, was a writers’ medium, and it was undergoing a creative explosion. “The old-timey mentality was: you go work in TV, and it breaks your brain, and you learn all these terrible habits,” Flahive said. “But you didn’t. You were writing great scenes, and for really good actors.”

The “Nurse Jackie” writers’ room, Flahive recalled, “was half queer, majority female. It was half people who had done TV for a long time, and half people who had never done TV before.” But it was possible to learn. “I turned in my first script, and the co-E.P.s sat me down and said, ‘This is really great. But this is the most expensive episode of television ever written. It’s a half-hour show, and you have forty-one setups.’ I was, like, ‘What’s a setup?’ And they explained, ‘If you set this scene here, and you write this scene here, this is a whole company move, and this is a whole new set we have to build.’ And then I got to take that script and go sit on set and actually see what it meant when you write ‘EXT. SUBWAY PLATFORM,’ and why that’s complicated.”

Flahive rose through the ranks of “Nurse Jackie” and went on to co-create the Netflix comedy “GLOW” and the Apple TV+ anthology “Roar,” both with the playwright and producer Carly Mensch. But, in the intervening years, the profession has devolved. Streamers are ordering shorter seasons, and the residuals model that used to give network writers a reliable income is out the window. The ladder from junior writer to showrunner has become murkier, with some people repeating steps like repeating grades, and others being flung to the top without the requisite experience, in order to meet demand for new content. Studios are cutting writing budgets to the bone by hiring fewer people for shorter time periods, often without paying for lower-level writers to be on set during production, which makes it all but impossible to learn the skills necessary to run a show. On “Roar,” Flahive said, “we had to fight to budget for writers to prep and produce their episodes,” and some of her writers had never been to the set of shows they’d worked on, “which is astonishing to me.”

[blueprint-han]

floating through space (and a pile of junk) — lee felix.

𝗚𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗣: STRAY KIDS; husband!felix x fem!reader

𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘: fluff.

𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧: 1.3 k

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: nothing except bad writing and bad title, no proofreading, also there’s one mention of the reader being shorter than Felix ♡

“You’re supposed to be cleaning!”

“In my defense, who cleans during the night?”

You huff, trying to snatch the polaroid camera Felix found in one of the cupboards away from him. “And in my defense, you’re busy all day. You know how much I hate cleaning the cupboards.”

Felix laughs, setting the camera aside he helps you get the remaining stuff out, then proceeds to grab a cloth to dust the shelves. Quite frankly, you feel like a terrible wife for making Felix work more after he’s already busy with tour preparations, but you’ve got no choice — you start sneezing up a storm at the slightest contact with dust, and you aren’t really gifted in the height department either. Neither is Felix, but he can, at least, reach the top shelves better than you could.

While Felix dusts, you sort through the stuff randomly thrown on your bed into two piles — throw or keep. You’re quite shocked with how much junk you’ve managed to accumulate in just a year, especially when most of the time it’s you who’s around the house, not Felix.

“I’m taking the day off tomorrow.”

Felix says it like it’s something so casual, and not his first day off in literal weeks. The selfish part of your brain freezes at that statement and wishes you aren’t just hearing things — you’ve been pretty silent about your wishes for Felix to stay longer than just one night, since you know it’s not his fault whatsoever, and if he could control it, he would.

“Y-you are?” You ask, hoping he doesn’t notice the very intent surprise behind your statement.

By the time you can turn around to face him, he’s behind you. You feel gentle arms wrap around your waist and Felix’s chin rest on your shoulder. The feeling of his breath on your neck stirs up butterflies in your stomach. Surprisingly, it’s more romantic than sensual in any way. You’ve gone without such soft moments for so long, you’ve learnt to cherish them.

“Mhm. I’m barely able to help you out or spend time with you, and I feel bad about it.” You can feel Felix pout, and you let a smile tug at your lips. Pretending as though you’re not affected by his ministrations, you keep sorting through the myriad of items on the bed. That’s not fully wrong, if you’re being honest. If you don’t finish this in the next two hours, then you’d both go to bed late. And you’re tired enough as is, and so is Felix.

“You don’t have to.” You mumble, voice trailing down even more when he tightens his grip on your waist. His warmth seeps into you, and suddenly, you can feel your heart beating oh-so-fast, like it’s the first time all over again. “You and I both know it’s not your fault you don’t have time.”

Felix doesn’t seem to have an answer for that. Instead, he grabs hold of your hands, stopping your motions. He then turns you around, and god, those eyes could kill you. It seemed like the deities of the universe themselves laid every single star in his eyes, such that one look at them and you felt at peace — like you were the only one who existed in his universe, that the whole world was yours and you were with him.

You shyly bring your hand to his cheek, and feel your heart flutter when he leans into your touch, and you’re basically in shambles when he pouts.

“Come on now. Give me attention.”

“I am.” You try to look anywhere but at him. The heat creeping up to your cheeks is bound to be noticeable soon, and he’s too close for you to pull the hood of your sweatshirt over your head. Not that that’d help, but it does make you feel less noticed.

At that, Felix pulls you closer. “Not quite. Look at me.” He whines. It’s so like Felix to outright demand for attention, even though he’s always been a sweet, shy man, ever since you started dating. You internally smile at the image of a fluffy Felix, bushing furiously as he stuttered out a “Will you go on a date with me?”, and then hid his face into the pillows to avoid your answer.

“What are you thinking about?”

“The first time you asked me out on a date.” You admit, and his smile only widens at that, his eyes disappearing into tiny crescents. “You’ve gotten more confident since then, gotta admit.”  Kissing his cheek, you pry yourself our of his arms, giving him another peck on his lips when he whines more. He’s so adorable, you could cry.

You pick up some of your clothes to sort into the cupboards, and stack them one by one.

“I haven’t gotten more confident, it’s just that you’ve gotten less.” Felix snickers, positioning himself behind you to hold you again. You giggle, placing the items on one of the shelves before turning around yourself this time.

“Felix, we have to get these things inside, else we’ll both be up late. And I know you’re tired.” Felix matches your laughter, and then in the one moment you let yourself get caught off guard listening to the delightful noise, he lifts you into the air and sways you around.

“What- Ah! Felix, let me down!” You yelp and chortle, smiling to yourself like a giddy schoolgirl.

“I’m not tired at all, love. All I want right now is to spend time with my wife, which she’s not letting me do.”

Well, it’s not that you don’t want to spend time with him. It’s just such a new thing, which it shouldn’t be. You’ve always found yourself not bother Felix when he comes home and let him get his rest. It was hard enough to ask him for help one time, let alone ask him to stay up until later because your heart fluttered too much at his actions.

“Well, someone’s gotta—” Your sentence is cut off with a heartly giggle when Felix nuzzles into your stomach, causing a ticklish feeling to rise up your nerves. “Felix, stop! You’re— oh gosh—” He doesn’t have the intention to stop, for whether you find it hard to believe or not, Felix feels such a unique sense of contentment when he listens to the very echo of your pure joy. He could play it on repeat for his whole life, and never pause it or be bored even once.

“Mm, I don’t think I will. You’re warm.”

Eventually, you have to resort to tickling him to get him to let you down, after which you grab the nearest pillow and throw it at him, both of you thoroughly laughing and enjoying the impromptu pillow fight. The both of you fall flat on the bed (albeit you bonk your head on a vase that’s supposed to go on the table), your laughter eventually fading out as you turn to face him.

“One year of marriage and seven years of our relationship, and you’re still in the honeymoon phase.” You say as Felix takes your hand with the curiosity of a toddler, playing with your fingers and running his thumb along the back of your hand.

“Well, in my defense, I did choose to love the single most perfect woman in the world.” You let Felix pull you into his embrace, and Felix really tries to keep his heartbeat from rising when you place a tiny kiss over his chest.

“And I chose to love the single most kind soul in the whole world.”

Felix smiles, so do you. He leans to kiss you, and you let him, drowning yourself of your inhibitions, and of his too.

“I love you.” Felix’s eyes sparkle when he says that. Like he wishes upon the stars in his eyes that you can understand just how much weight he holds on those three words, and lucky for him, his wish always comes true.

“I love you too.”

And at that moment, even though you’re cramped together on a bed full of junk, his arms feel like home.

𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘: It's exam season and I want comfort. That's all the explanation i can give for this. Well, besides husband Felix of course. Anywho please leave feedback if you like it. ♡

[silentmagi]

Rising Star

Main Page

I hope everyone’s ready to get the journey of destiny under way. Star’s heading towards the academy, now let’s see how fast she’s going.

1 No time to waste, push herself to get back to school.

The hand cart was little more than a large wagon, and she could feel every ounce of the knowledge that she carried inside. The road seemed endless, and the weight caused her legs to burn with the strain of every step. She needed to get to the school, that was her only thought as she packed as little aside from the books and scrolls. She had food for about a week packed, some blankets to sleep with, and a lantern to light the night.

She was going to push herself.

The first day was mild and fair, the breeze helped her to keep from roasting under the sun. The wandering path of the woods that she had found a pleasant stroll on her way to the tower was now an annoying mess of twists and turns that had tree roots every few steps to catch a wheel of the cart.

Next time she decides to save the world from the loss of magic, she was going to buy a wagon, pay for a driver, and-

Okay, no, if this happens again, it will be someone else’s problem. She was going to set up a potion cabin in the woods and sell bootleg lotions, potions, ointments and herbal remedies. She was not a hero. She was a nerdy girl that just wanted to sit and study magic.

Right, adding alchemy and herbology lessons to her schedule. Maybe that would be a good idea even if magic comes back, all she knew was how to brew an energy potion in her dorm room without the floor monitors catching on. The losses from bribery before the second part sank in were a powerful motivator.

But at least she was able to stay awake for those precious hours of extra studying during the finals. Sure, the medical wizard that found her a week later chattering about the spiders under her skin said that she was lucky to still be alive, but she aced her tests!

Getting to a clearing, she paused to look at the choices for a moment while weighing the choices of stopping to eat, or just pressing on. Determining the proper choice, she reached into the basket and pulled out a pouch filled with dried fruits and nuts to munch on while she pulled. Tying it to her belt, she adjusted it so she would be able to get into it with ease and not lose a step.

The brief respite had told her so much about the agony that was going to await her when she could stop and let her body feel it. Maybe she should have packed some pain relief potions as well when she set out. Hindsight seems to be crystal clear with her lately.

She was really wanting to have a good, long discussion with her past self as her legs burned, and hands ached, from working so hard. 

There was just so many bad choices that led to current problems that she really would have liked to have addressed with herself. Poor physical training, terrible diet and sleep schedule, questionable substance use, and not having a back up plan if magic failed aside, she really should have worked on being more sociable, or at least getting one good friend.

As she pressed on, her thoughts growing darker with the fading day, she lit the lantern and kept going until she could barely place one foot in front of the other. If she keeps this pace, she should make it to the school in about a week.

If her legs didn’t fall off first, just before she decided to set up camp, she stumbled into a clearing and found a campfire burning. Blinking, she glanced around trying to figure out who else would be out this way.

“Ho there wanderer, stay thy course and indulge a fellow traveler,” a voice called out, causing her head to whip around in confusion, what she finds is surprising.

[dreadsuitsamus]

Vegeta Comfort After a Bad Day Headcanons | Vegeta x Reader |

author's note: this is nothing but self-indulgence, i've been having a less-than-stellar time due to irl things and not being able to finish a story lately has been bringing me down more

pairing: vegeta x fem!reader

Vegeta isn't the most in tune with feelings, including his own

So he doesn't realize you're upset until you order out for dinner, rather than cooking for him like you always do

He approaches you with crossed arms and a scowl

"Have I done something wrong?"

"No, Vegeta. I just don't feel like cooking tonight."

Your voice has no energy in it and you're curled up on the couch, blankly staring at the tv while it plays a commercial

"And why not? You promised me my favorite tonight."

You sigh softly and adjust the blanket around you. "I know. I'm an awful wife and I deserve nothing. Go marry Bulma."

That's what raises his alarm bells

"I don't want Bulma, I want you! And right now, you are not yourself."

"Sorry for the inconvenience." You shove your face into a throw pillow.

Vegeta sighs. Evidently you are sad, and don't seem to be returning to your normal self anytime soon

So he goes upstairs and changes into his comfy clothes, which is just sweatpants and a tank top

When he comes back to you, he lifts your feet up and sits down, setting them on his lap and starting to rub them, his thumbs pressing into each knot you've built up after your long day at work wearing high heels

"You work too hard." He grumbles.

"I have to make money for us to live happily."

"Hmph." Personally he'd be happy no matter where you two lived, but you were dead set on having this two-story home

You just sigh and close your eyes. Work was terrible; no policies sold and your boss had been breathing down your neck about it, threatening to take your bonus away, and you really needed that bonus to pay off your car note

Vegeta keeps massaging, moving down the couch a tad and working his fingers against your strung-out calves and thighs. "It's time for a vacation."

You snort. "What's the point? Every time we go somewhere, you train during most of it. Or have to go save the world. Or die."

Vegeta frowns. "Well if it means ruining your vacation to keep you alive, I find it well worth it."

"Yeah, well, too risky for me."

Vegeta bites down on his tongue. "Woman, I am trying to make you feel better."

You sigh. "I know, I know... I'm sorry. I just feel awful."

"You are forgiven." Vegeta mumbles, remembering all the times he's snapped at you while feeling bad about something

He keeps massaging your legs until there's no more leg to rub, and then pulls you fully onto his lap

You waste no time in curling up against him, pressing your face into his muscled chest

Vegeta clasps his hands together once they've met around your hips, watching tv until the doorbell rings, signaling dinner's arrival

He stands, still holding you up with a single hand and retrieves the pizzas with ease. He makes it back to the couch, right where he was moments ago and opens the first of the boxes

His fingers supporting your back gently rub against your skin while he takes his first bite

You turn your head, listening to his heartbeat and sneak a bite of his slice

Vegeta scoffs and looks down at you. "Troublesome girl."

he feeds you two slices though

Eventually you're fast asleep, snoring gently and drooling on his shirt

Vegeta shakes his head just a tad and gives you a squeeze, adjusting himself to be laying on the couch with you on top of him

He hates to see you so tired and upset after running yourself ragged for 40 hours a week minimum

He'll prod you more about a vacation tomorrow, and do his best not to die during this one

But for now he will just hold you, and eventually he himself falls asleep

You come to again when he's already fast asleep

oh he's so cute when he's asleep

You press a wet kiss to his neck and snuggle further into him, grabbing the blanket you bought specifically for occasions like these from over the top of the couch and drape it over you and your husband

Vegeta murmurs some nonsense sleep-talk and tightens his hold on you, and you're just glad you don't have to pee

[sky-drgn]

Wanting To Forget

Genre: Angst with a happy ending Pronouns: you/your; implied fem reader, use of she once Warnings: Character Death(s), small spoilers for romantic ending and engagement event, please let me know if I missed any Words: 3,339 Notes: I apologize for making you look at my absolutely terrible attempt to make a banner. Please send me asks about the ending. There was only so much that could fit in with out it being out of place. Edited to the best of my ability, there still might be mistakes, lemme know and I'll fix them ^-^ Completely inspired by this poll!

King Chevalier didn't know how it came to this. No, he knows. Chevalier can not forget, after all. He can't forget anything. Never so much did he want to. He wanted to forget that day, that week. Oh, how he wanted to forget. 

He wanted to forget the bone-chilling news that you had successfully been assassinated. That he wasn't there to save you, to protect you, as he promised himself he would be. 

It was a quiet afternoon; with Chevalier and his brothers away at war, the castle seemed empty. The usual bustling atmosphere the king and the princes had around them was gone. Despite the war going on beyond the borders, it was peaceful within the kingdom, the castle. Your day went on as usual. Work with Sarial in the morning, lessons on how to be the Queen with the same man in the afternoon, and early evening you put those lessons to use by organizing your fiance's paperwork. Late evening, after dinner and retiring to your room, you’d often find yourself doing your own studies on how to be Queen. During this time, the maids or Rio would bring a cup of tea to help you relax. The days were long and felt even longer without Chevalier by your side, not knowing if he was safe. You knew he would be; he didn’t earn the nickname the Brutal Beast for nothing. But an enemy that got not only Jade but Obsidian to ally with Rholidate and Benitoite scared you. The enemy had to be a great one if it brought all four kingdoms together. 

“Here you are, My Lady.” Your most trusted maid said as she put down your evening tea. “Rio has gone out to greet the messenger. He should be back with news of his Majesty and his brothers before you retire for the night.” 

“Thank you so much.” You said, gladly accepting the claiming tea. “I’m not sure I’d be able to sleep without knowing what the messenger had to say, no matter what.” 

Rio knocked on your door just under an hour later, but it was too late. You were already gone.

King Chevalier, his brothers, allies, and troops were returning to their kingdoms, but the trip home was long. It could not be made in one day. They set up camp for the night and would be home by mid to late afternoon the next day. While no one wanted to be out an extra day, they knew it would be best for them, their troops, and their horses. What no one expected - or wanted - was to see an exhausted Rio riding up to the camp by the time breakfast was over the next morning. 

It had been Nokto who greeted Rio and Leon who sent Clavis to get Chevalier. He had just finished packing his own belongings. He had heard the commotion outside the tent but thought nothing of it. The serious look on Clavis's face, however, did bring an unsettling feeling. Clavis always wore a smile of some kind; seeing him without one was rare, to say the least. 

“King Chevalier…” Rio said, while uncharacteristically kneeling before him, “Y/N’s been poisoned. She was gone before we knew what happened.” 

Everyone knew that the news was not going to be good news when Rio showed up, but the news of your death shocked everyone. They were expecting bad news if Rio came all the way out here, but this was far worse than they imagined. And then all eyes were on Chevalier. While it was Clavis that had held onto the last bits of his humanity, it was you that helped him unlock the rest, you who helped him become the man he was today. It was never a secret that you were the light of his life. You, who was now gone. 

“The plan stays the same. We return to the castle.” Chevalier said as if he didn’t just hear the love of his life was taken far too soon. But everyone knew that wasn't the case. He moved a little faster as he turned with a flip of his cape, returning to his tent to finish collecting his belongings.

Rio and his horse were allowed a moment to rest and were given some food and water. No one knew what Chevalier was doing in his tent, but no one dared question, especially with the princes staying close just in case.

Upon the return to the castle, King Chevalier was debriefed on everything that happened. The assassin that slipped the poison in your tea was in and out castle quickly and easily. However, they were caught. They had to stay behind to make sure it worked after all. Sariel had them in custody within the hour of finding out you were gone.

Alone in his room, Chevalier silently cried for the first time since he was a baby. You weren’t going to come back to him this time.

Oh, how Chevalier wished he could forget how he failed to protect you.

King Chevalier knew you'd disagree with this. You'd reassure him that he was protecting you, and the kingdom, by being out on the battlefield with his brothers and allied nations. Even Obsidian sided with Rhodolite in this war. You'd tell him he did everything he could. Leaving behind his most trusted to watch over you. Telling him that no one could have predicted the enemy would be able to hire such a skilled assassin to get through all the castle security, the security Chevalier always had for you. Even your own self-defense skill you’d just started learning. All that means nothing in the face of foreign poison. One that wasn’t as obvious as others. One that was given to you by a trusted maid. Said maid was even unaware of the poison hidden in your tea. 

The one rest-assured thing about the news was that you hadn’t suffered. It was quick. And from what the doctors could tell, painless. 

Despite being only two and half months away from being Queen, you’d been given the treatment of one. However, Chevalier knew better than anyone that you’d want things to remain humble. The funeral, while fitting for a Queen, was reserved for family and close friends. No nobilities that would've attended a royal's wedding out of respect and formalities, and no foreign royals that might do the same. It was just Chevalier, all his brothers, Rio, Sariel, the bookstore owner - the man might as well have been your adopted father after all -, and even Chevalier’s grandfather. The older man was surprised to get an invitation. He hated that it was your funeral he was attending and not the other way around, but he was there and did the best he knew how to support his grandson. Meanwhile, the citizens left flowers at the front gates, the bookstore, and some at your house in town. 

It was a heartbreaking sight. 

Following the funeral, Clavis and the rest of the others more or less force Chevalier to take some time to properly grieve. All of his work was picked up by all his seven brothers. Something all had no problem doing. And when it was time for the king to return to his work, the first thing he did was make it so his future nieces and nephews would be ones the future Belle would have to get to know for the crown. Chevalier would not and could not love anyone that wasn’t you, children that weren't yours. He knew that one day his brothers would have children, children that would have every right to the crown. No one was against this. After all, no one wanted a repeat of the event that led to the eight brothers. 

And so the years passed on. To everyone's surprise, it was Luke that was the first to marry and go on to have two kids of his own. While Luke’s oldest was still young, Yves got married and would go on to have three kids. Clavis would marry when Yves’ middle child and Luke’s youngest were learning to walk; he’d have five children with his wife. However, before Clavis could have his third child, Jin would succumb to the same illness that took his mother. Clavis worked tirelessly to try and find a cure, Chevalier giving him some help with both the research and his regular work. Chevalier would also remind his younger brother to spend time with his wife and two kids. Jin passed without having kids, and not long after, Licht joined his eldest brother after receiving a fatal injury on the battlefield. Leon was grateful that the oldest twin was able to attend his wedding only months prior. The head of the domestic faction would go on to honor his late younger brother when his only child was born a year later. Before that, however, Nokto would formally take a few mistresses, in which he’d at least one child with each. He would find a way to honor his late twin in his own way. 

Chevalier watched his nieces and nephews grow and mature. He watched as some of them decided the throne wasn’t for them; they wanted to be able to support their cousins in their journey for the throne. Others left the castle to find their own path in helping their kingdom outside the stuffy castle walls. Chevalier, as the king, gave them permission to do so and was proud of them as their uncle. He knew that that was what you would want. To support the family he has left, to keep his heart and not lock it away. 

The king would watch when Luke fell ill with the same illness their father had. While he had more years, Jin did when they realized he was sick; after his youngest got engaged, he too would pass on. Leon would be able to see his grandchild be born, but not their first steps; a new strong poison - much like what took you - would take him as well. That was a shock to everyone; Leon had built resistance to poisons in his lifetime. Unfortunately, recovering from a bad cold and advanced age did not help him in fighting off the poison. Yves would live until all his grandchildren were born, the youngest just barely young enough to remember him; his cause of death is unknown to everyone. 

Nokto was not fortunate enough to have a good relationship with his children; their family dynamic was unique compared to that of his brothers. Despite their mothers knowing - and explaining to their children - full well what they were agreeing to when they agreed to be Nokto's mistresses. The few women had the situation explained to them several times with plenty of time to back out, but they all agreed. Still, their children didn't understand, and so it strained their relationship with their father. Still, Nokto was there for them, and they knew he would always be. That was until negotiations went wrong, and a miss-fired gun would take Nokto from them. Clavis would comfort them and tell them their father was with his twin and the rest of his brothers. That it was alright to miss him even if they never spent as much time with him in life as they could have. Clavis explained that Nokto always understood where his children were coming from and that he was never upset or angry or anything bad; he was glad that everyone got along - at least better than he and his half brothers. This did bring Nokto's children comfort.

And then it was just Chevalier and Clavis. Most would say they had the most stereotypical brother relationship, equally hate each other while equally caring - in secret. Though, it was less of a secret after your passing and with the years going by. Clavis would occasionally have no choice but twist the knife, asking his brother what you would think of his actions, what you would do. Chevalier would scowl at him; how dare he say your name, but Clavis was right, of course. You would be disappointed in some of his actions, the lack of heart in his actions, and the remainder from Clavis helped him keep his heart, even if hurt. 

It hurt remembering your smiling face. Remembering your first kiss, your first time. Remembering when you came back to him after a year of separation, the warmth of your skin when you hugged him tight with the separation over. How gorgeous you look in your engagement dress, the kiss on his cheek after your engagement ceremony. Remembering how gorgeous you looked when you tried on your wedding dress for the first time. The wedding never got to happen. 

Chevalier wasn't one to visit graves, he saw no purpose, but yours he found himself several times over the years. As per usual, it was Clavis's suggestion. It had been your first birthday since you'd been taken from him. Clavis took off early to make you a “cake” to leave at your grave. Slight jealousy flared up within him, and he ended up going sometime later. There at the grave was a misshapen cake. Chevalier wasn’t sure if it was edible, but he left it knowing that Clavis worked hard on it, knowing that someone else would come to clean it or an animal would come to eat it. Still, though, he wasn’t sure what to do here. He never visited a grave just to visit. Remembering something once told to him, he spoke to your grave about the major things that happened since his last visit, about the books he’s read and which you would have enjoyed.

Visiting your grave site became more and more often as he allowed his nieces and nephews to take over some work. Once he stepped down as king, it was a weekly, then an almost daily thing. The brothers that he had left found this very uncharacteristic of him. However, what else would he do with his time? When he was younger, it was studies and reading, then it was work and reading, then it was work, reading, and spending time with you, but then it was back to work and reading. Without work, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. Sure, there was handling the Michel manor work, but that didn’t take up nearly as much time, nor was it a daily thing. Clavis found it sweet and incredibly sad. 

The daily trips turned back into weekly trips as he aged, and his health slowly declined. Before he knew it, he was bedridden, much like his late grandfather. Chevalier was able to get out of bed to do some activities, but making the trip down to the graveyard wasn’t one of them. He didn’t feel bad about this. Despite all the years that had passed, he still didn’t see the significance in going. There were bits and pieces of you all over the castle. His private library, your old room, the gardens, his room, and much more. All of them had your touch. Much of the things you’d left in his room have remained exactly where they were, and he only added books to your shelf in his private library, only the books he knew you’d enjoy. Even without going to the cemetery, you were with him. Even bedridden, you were with him. In the same room he always had, in the room the two of you were supposed to share - did share on many nights.

However, he did make one last trip to the graveyard on the anniversary of your death with the last brother he has left. The one that’s always been by his side. Clavis.

Clavis would see him back to his room and sit next to him. His wife, kids, nieces, and nephews are nearby in the castle. He’d make idol chatter with his older brother. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about. 

“Thank you, Clavis,” Chevalier said, interrupting Clavis’s random talking. “For everything over the years.” 

Clavis was stunned, speechless, to say the least. Never has Chevalier thanked him.

Despite all pain and heartache remembering you brought Chevalier, he was glad he never forgot you. 

A few days later, a funeral was held for former King Chevalier. He had peacefully passed in his sleep with Clavis by his side.

The ringing of the bell alerted the black-haired bookstore worker to a new customer. Looking up, he saw one of the usuals approaching. They went to the local university and often studied in a quiet area upstairs, often with the owner's third “son,” as they went to the same university. The black-haired male wasn’t sure how they studied together, having two different majors, but it kept the hellcat out of his hair, so he didn’t care. 

“I believe Clavis is still in class if you’re looking for him.” The male told the customer. They were dressed in fine clothes, with their rather high-quality backpack resting on their shoulders. Being from the upper class had its perks. “He should be back in an hour if you want to wait upstairs.” 

“Actually, I’m here to meet Chevalier. Do you know if he’s here yet?” 

“He’s in the back. Boss made him his own little library back there. It’s around the corner.”

“Thanks, Sariel!” 

Sariel watched you go around to Chevalier’s private area, wondering when the two of you had met. Chevalier is two years ahead of you and Clavis and doesn’t come to the bookstore too often anymore. 

“Rholidate’s Fallen Rose.” You said, approaching the blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty. “That’s one of my favorites.” 

“I didn’t expect a simpleton to enjoy such a tragic book.” 

“The tragedy added to the beauty of the story. I’m surprised to see you reading it, though. It’s not actually a romance story.” 

“Am I only allowed to read romances now?” 

“I’ve never seen you read anything else before, with the expectation of things for your job, but that’s different.” Putting your bookbag down, you picked a book off the shelf and sat down next to Chevalier. Having taken a romance book yourself.

“Could say the same about you,” Chevalier said with a short chuckle. “I thought you were going to work on your paper that’s due in two weeks.” 

“You’ll help with it later, won’t you? We don’t get to relax like this often. I want to be able to take the time while we have it.” 

Chevalier said nothing, just smirked as he wrapped his arm around you. You two had been dating for just under a year. Between his work and your university work, it had been hard to find time for dates or just being together. So much so that not many people knew the two of you were dating. Chevalier’s mothers and younger brother know. Your adoptive father and the important people in your lives know as well. There was no need for grand declarations or for the entire country to know. It was just the two of you, happy and in love.

That love would be shown to the rest of your families and friends two years later. After a quiet and heartfelt proposal came a beautiful wedding. Chevalier looked as handsome as he always does with a white tuxedo with yellow accents and a tie. Your own outfit fit for royalty highly based on what was supposed to be Belle’s wedding dress from Rholidate’s Fallen Rose. Really the entire wedding felt like it should have taken place within the book. Although it was scalded down from what would have been that neither you nor Chevalier was royalty. It felt perfect. Like all the puzzle pieces finally came together. Like coming home after a long, drawn-out battle. It felt like everything was going exactly how it was supposed to. 

In the warm embrace of your lover, as the day of your wedding ended, the two of you knew that you would love each other in all of your lifetimes.

IkePri Mastelist

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Back with another chapter that actually gave me such a headache to edit, you have no idea how much I cut from this. Mostly filler here, nothing terribly important, just buildup.

[Psst, @itsberrydreemurstuff, I saved you a seat :) I dunno if this is what a taglist is supposed to look like, but now you've got a front row ticket]

(Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3)

Now, on with the show!

Word Count: 1,754

You wake up and immediately regret it when a headache hits you like a dump truck. You make no move to sit up just yet, debating on whether or not you really need to go to work today. Your stuffy nose and sore throat certainly aren’t helping your argument. 

As usual, the pep-talk does absolutely nothing, but you find yourself sitting up anyways, wincing at the jolt that runs through your spine at the movement. You ignore it and hobble to the kitchen cabinet on legs too weak to stand. 

O-kay, maybe this wasn’t just a light cold.

It’s fine, you tell yourself, leaning on the countertop and squinting at the labels on pill bottles before finding what you need. It’s all fine. I’ll just get some meds and head out. 

You heat up a glass of milk and mix in a dollop of butter and honey before downing it, feeling the swelling in your throat start to go down. Some Tylenol and cough medicine helps combat whatever’s attacking your immune system for the time being. You stuff the meds in your bag, along with tissues and another book that you pray Moon won’t destroy and an extra pair of work clothes, just in case. You throw in your laptop at the last second, and head out the door, driving over to the plex.

You slide your badge over the scanner, clocking in and heading straight for the Daycare. The mental countdown begins.

You head straight for the desk after bidding a good morning to a room seemingly devoid of its Attendant. You doubt they aren’t here, though. They’re probably around somewhere hanging from the rafters or disinfecting the play structure for the umpteenth time. Sun does it often. (You’d offered to leave him something to do after hours once, when you were starting out. He did not appreciate the gesture, accusing you of prying into his business and reminding you to mind your own.) The faint jingle of bells gives him away. They both tended to dismiss your greetings and attempts at conversation without response. That was okay though. You’d been told before that you were sometimes a bit too much oblivious as to when the right time to converse was.

You set your bag down beside you and pull out your laptop. You had to send an email to management about yesterday, not to mention the request for maintenance on the Daycare Attendant. You’d noticed they moved more stiffly as of late. Maybe a joint problem? You did have the qualifications to work on them yourself, but they didn’t seem to like that idea last time. You’d worked on other animatronics before, though. Mostly STAFFbots who didn’t have the time for Parts & Service, but also that one time when Monty’s endo bugged out. He’d nearly killed you after you replaced it and booted him up, making it adamantly clear that you would do better to get someone more qualified to do it should it happen again, which was fair enough, considering that you didn’t have too much experience in the field. You briefly recall the bruises on your arms when he’d grabbed you.

Right, the list. Email management, request maintenance…you consider calling your brother during lunch, let him know he might have to pick you up if you get worse. You decide against it. He has enough on his plate, he shouldn't have to worry about you. Besides, you could survive the day. It was a little cold, that’s all, it would pass and you’d be fine. You could take nap time off for lunch if it got that bad. You hadn’t exactly eaten much the last few days, and the worst Moon could do is take your stuff.

You start typing up your report, leaving out little bits of interaction with the Attendants and instead focusing on the children. As usual, the kids were all tended to without issue and the Daycare was spick and span, wholly worthy of its five-star review. It was fine. All fine. You finish, eying the word count and praying that Management would care to read at least a quarter of it before hitting send and pulling up a separate email.

Having submitted the most pressing issues, you close your laptop and stretch. Welp. Might as well see what else there is to do. You walk through the open space, spotting no messes thanks to Sun’s obsessive cleaning. You peered into the arts and crafts bin, noting the dwindling piles of materials. You’d need to order more. Now that you thought about it, the cleaning supplies would probably need to be replenished as well with how frequently your coworkers ran through them. 

Restocking aside, you move on, making a mental to-do list as you go. You might as well bring a few more children’s books while you were at it, you were more than willing to donate yours from your youth. And you’d have to take out that sewing kit of yours, the stuffies and pillows were starting to wear down and rip again. Maybe you’d do well to buy new ones…

You mull through everything you’d have to take stock of, leaning against the wall and duly noting the pain that lingered in your legs. Nothing to worry about, you’d go home if you were actually hurt. Sun was lurking around here somewhere, it wouldn’t do well to be so dramatic over nothing when you had a job to do. You push yourself off the wall and stand back up, straightening your legs to keep your footing even. You could make it a couple hours, you would see this through.

You check the clock again. 20 minutes until opening. You wrack your brain for something else to do, reluctantly grabbing a binder of one of the taller shelves and returning to the desk. It was high time you reviewed the schedule for the month. Not the most entertaining task, but you’d learned that work wasn’t supposed to be fun. 

You open it up and skim the contents briefly. Meal plans, activities, compacted schedules…that one made you raise a brow. Apparently a field trip was to be held some time later this month to see the GlamRock’s performance. And since Sun couldn’t leave the Daycare, and you were required to be present…

You inhale and shut your eyes for a moment, half-aware of your hands gesturing in the ‘bruh’ meme fashion before raking through your hair.

Fantastic. Wonderful. You’d be chaperoning with Moon. Peachy.

You want to find the nearest ditch to crawl into and die in.

No matter. It would be fine. He’d probably be too focused on the children to torment you. 

(You knew that wouldn’t stop him. He wasn’t like Sun, who ignored you entirely-he’d find a way to make you suffer.)

You shake off the knot beginning to form in your stomach and snap the binder shut, placing it back in its spot. Your vision blurs for a moment before you for the two sets of jungle gyms back into one and rub your eyes. There’s a knock on the door, marking the official start of the day.

“I’ll get it!” you call out to the supposedly empty daycare, hearing no reply. You push the doors open and greet a woman with two kids hot on her heels. They take off with screeches of laughter while you jot down the information their mother tells you with a smile and a nod.

The daycare starts filling up as the minutes tick by, and Sun finally makes his appearance, looking just as bright and cheerful as ever. Soon, the kids are all whisked off to whatever catches their fancy. A couple of them decide to stick with you today, and you’re sucked into a game of doctor. You’re not the best with kids, but you make do, citing your illness of randomly bursting into song at any given moment with no known cure. You count it off as a success when they break into fits of laughter at each iconic reference you perform, complete with dramatic poses and memorized lyrics for each request you’re given (though you make sure it’s G-rated first, of course).

You have Hakuna Matata (among several others) floating around in your head throughout snack time, but it’s a small price to pay. While the tots munch on apple slices and pretzel sticks (that you consider but refrain from eating), you eye Sun warily. 

He was usually up and about before your shift even started. His absence, while not entirely unwelcome, was somewhat concerning considering his track record of perfect attendance on functionality.

After gathering your non-existent confidence, you muster up the ability to turn to him fully and ask, “Hey, Sun? Are you okay?”

His eyes ‘blink’ as he tilts his faceplate to stare at you quizzically. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

You glance away, a bit unnerved at the blank optics burning holes into you. Your conviction wavers. “I dunno,” you shrug after a second. “You weren’t around earlier, I got worried.”

He regards you coldly. “Well, Y/N, our whereabouts do not concern you…unless you’re admitting to requiring supervision?” 

The question is innocent, but a sharp edge lies beneath it. There always is.  And yyyep, there goes that confidence, completely dissipating. Your cheeks burn with indignance and embarrassment. “Nevermind…” So much for worrying about your fellow coworker. You feel that headache coming back on, you don’t want to make it worse. You take your leave after the children finish, continuing your games with a little less vigor.

Naptime rolls around and you’re almost as tuckered out as the kids. That lingering back pain from earlier has returned full force. You rub your shoulder blades and leave it at that, subtly limping over to the desk as the lights cut.

 You steal a glance at Moon, with one of the twins in his lap watching him read to the excited children that were quick to grow drowsy. You liked seeing him like this, a stark contrast between his typical snarky and sometimes malicious attitude directed at you. You kept watching as he changed his voice to match the characters, much to his audience’s delight. Mean as they were to you, they really were incredible with children. You lower your gaze back to the desk before he notices you staring. You find yourself yawning, more tired than usual. You slowly slip from consciousness, breathing evening out as you rest your head in your arms, falling into a light slumber.

Aaaand that's a wrap! I dunno when I'll put the 5th part out cuz I dunno how to complete Chapter 6, but hopefully I'll figure it out. MC is a little under the weather here, hope that won't be of any consequence later on...

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Trigger warning for a bunch of shit and I am genuinely sorry that I can't parse out what, if in doubt just probably stay away from it altogether.

I keep reading about people being glad they quit drinking because of all these negative experiences with alcohol, and I just hardly had any of those, I always had fun when I drank, and not in a wild do things I regret way, just it was nice to sit and relax and listen to music. And sometimes I’d get really emotional and sometimes that emotion would be sad or angry but usually that was stuff I was feeling anyway and couldn’t express sober so I would feel better for having got drunk and get to properly feel it.

The one thing – the one really big negative effect of alcohol that I got all the time and really wanted it to stop – was the psychological hangover the next day, where I’d spent all morning and most of the afternoon being convinced that I’d been a terrible person the night before, that if I’d interacted with anyone in any way from a message to a Tumblr post or God forbid in person I’d said something horrifyingly wrong and should be ashamed of that, and I’d really really hate myself. Even if objectively all I did was sit in my room listening to music while drinking whiskey. I wanted that to stop. And I figure I have a lot of respect for sober people, I know they make better choices than I do, so maybe if I stop drinking then I can stop having the hangovers where I hate myself and also I’ll just like myself better in general for being the kind of person I respect.

But it’s been so much the opposite. I don't know how much it's from the not drinking or maybe I was just going to have a breakdown this month anyway, but my levels of hating myself have gone through the roof lately. Just yesterday I spent a Sunday convinced that everything I’ve done lately has been drastically wrong and terrible, and I didn’t even need to drink to make it happen. But at least when I feel that way after drinking, I know it has a specific cause and the feeling will wear off as the hangover does. But now I just have that feeling creeping in all the time and there’s not a point where it’ll expire.

Last week at work I had a somewhat scary incident where a kid tried to hurt himself and then I came home and spent all night panicking that I’d dealt with it wrong and was going to get fired for being a terrible person. Then I went into work the next day and my supervisor told me I did a good job and it turned out it was fine. But then the next day didn’t have any particularly bad incidents at work and I still had this immediate regret for everything I did, like I’d immediately have this deep regret about it like the type I get during hangovers, but for something quite normal that I said like five minutes ago.

It’s been escalating for a few weeks, really, and then yesterday I went for brunch with my dad and came home and cried for an hour because I was convinced I’d said something terrible even though I’m pretty sure it was objectively fine. Then I tried to distract myself with Tumblr posts but immediately after became convinced that everything I’d said there was also wrong (and I’m definitely getting that feeling with this one too). And throwing myself into comedy is always my distraction but it’s creeping into that, I was reading stuff on a Taskmaster subreddit and managed to twist that into convincing myself that I was a terrible person because of the kind of comedy I like, which I’m pretty sure this morning is probably not the case but it seemed like a really significant problem yesterday.

Anyway, this escalated quite badly over a few hours and then I [don’t need to actually get into gory details here, maladaptive coping mechanisms but I didn’t drink any alcohol] spiralled really fast into feeling suicidal for the first time in just over a year, and then I get scared because my roommate’s out of town and I don’t have any other friends left to call in a situation like that (I definitely used to have friends that I’d call at a time like that and they could call me at bad times too, but lost touch with basically everyone in the last few years, I had a brief thought that I guess this is why people stay in relationships so they don’t have to be on their own at a time like that but then I realized that if I were still with my ex-girlfriend I’d have canceled on her this weekend because I didn’t feel up to the social expectations of a romantic relationship, in fact when we were together I did cancel on her for reasons like that, and that sort of thing is why it ended, so I guess being in a relationship would not help in this instance), and I was scared that I would hurt myself (more than I already had, again I will spare the details) if I was by myself, so I called a mental health line, and they said if nothing else the physical symptoms I was describing means I should probably go to a hospital, so I did that, and they did some EKGs and stuff to make sure my chest pain and dizziness and numbness was in fact just anxiety, and then they gave me a benzodiazepine and it made me feel quite high, so I guess my streak of being sober for all of 2024 so far is over. It’s been about six years, I think, since I last had anxiety so severe that I went to a hospital. But it was probably the right choice.

I was supposed to work 8-6 today but I woke up and could not get out of bed so I called in sick. Which I am also freaking out about, because that’s exactly what I was afraid would happen when I started working fulltime in person, that I won’t be able to handle it. And you get a certain number of days when this can happen and you can call in and it’s okay, but past that point you can’t keep your job and pay rent anymore. And historically, there have been times when I get like this and its lasts more than one day.

I said I was going to not drink in January because I was trying to use the trick I use on treadmills. I run at a pace where I know I can go about 22 minutes before completely burning out. But that’s a fast enough pace so I’m already really tired by about 4 minutes, and if I’m 4 minutes into a run and tell myself I still have to get to 22, I’ll get overwhelmed about how that’s impossible, I’ll panic about being given an impossible task, my body will dump a bunch of adrenaline from anxiety and then I actually won’t be able to run for as long. So I tell myself that it’s okay if just this once, I stop by 10 minutes, if I really can’t go on. Then I get to 9 minutes and realize I can keep going for a bit, so I say okay, do 13. Then I keep doing that until I eventually end up going for 22.

It was supposed to be like that. If I tell myself I’m going to completely quit drinking forever, I’ll just think that’s impossible and I won’t bother to try, I’ll just start drinking again as soon as it gets hard. So say I’ll do January, that seems possible enough to be worth pushing through the hard parts, and then once I manage that I can extend it. But honestly I underestimated how hard it would be. I figured I’m already down to only drinking twice a week, how hard can it be to go from two to zero? Really hard, turns out.

Because the thing is that you do eventually get to get off the treadmill. While according to this analogy, if I do this right then I have to keep running on a treadmill forever. Alcohol is the only break I get from living in my brain with all the anxiety and regret and hating myself and thinking everything I’ve ever done is wrong, and if I quit drinking then I’m asking myself to go for the entire rest of my life without a break from that, and what happened yesterday is that kind of hit me and made me think in that case I’d really like the rest of my life to not last for all that long. I used to motivate myself to get through stressful days at work by saying I can sit down with whiskey on the weekend and have a break. But now the weekends are also just exercises in trying not to drink, and the next thing in my life that I’m actually looking forward to is a trip to the UK but it doesn’t feel like enough to get me through months with no break.

 I was genuinely convinced yesterday that the type of comedy I like makes me a terrible person. I read some stuff about people who don’t like the same thing I do and I spiralled into the worst explanation for that and I started to panic about every single post I’ve ever made on this blog. That’s the kind of thought I might have the morning after drinking a bunch of alcohol but I’d also be able to slightly step out of it, remind myself that this is an artificial feeling caused by a hangover, and wait for it to go away. I think that’s the biggest part of abstaining from drinking that I didn’t see coming. Didn’t expect that to drastically escalate. No idea why that happened.

It's possible that I underestimated how bad an addiction can still be even if you only do something twice a week, and I shouldn’t have tried to just stop it all at once with no plan or support for it (although it’s not completely true that I have no support, I genuinely think I’d have started drinking again by now if I didn’t have this Tumblr blog to write in and have a bit of an outlet, which is why I’m writing this now even though I already know as soon as I post it I’m going to become convinced that I shouldn’t have put this out there and I’ll regret this too). But I don’t really know what else I’m supposed to do, I don’t have any better ideas.

I keep having dreams where I’m drinking, and they’re just like the dreams I used to have when I was a competitive athlete and cutting weight. We used to have to do all these drastic things in the week before big tournaments to get into a weight class, that involved eating very little for ages and then for the last couple of days not eating or drinking anything and sitting saunas and running in sweaters to lose water. And I would always have these recurring nightmares where I’d eat a bunch of food, then immediately remember that I was supposed to be cutting weight, and panic and realize I’d ruined it all in a few moments and then try to throw it up. Though in the last couple of days I’d be so thirsty that I wouldn’t even feel hungry anymore, I used to say that I haven’t eaten in 2 days but if you offered me bread I wouldn’t take it because it would just make me thirstier and that’s all I can think about, and then I’d have dreams where I’d jump into a pool and drink all the water, and then I’d remember that I wasn’t supposed to do that, and freak out about it.

I haven’t had dreams like that in years, but I’ve had a bunch of them this month, where I drink some whiskey and it feels really good in the moment, and then I immediately remember that I’ve set a rule against that and now I’ve broken it and I’ve ruined everything and there’s no changing it because I can’t un-drink that and I wake up freaking out. I haven’t had dreams like that for years because I haven’t competed for years, so it feels scary to bring that back too. Cutting weight used to be horrible, not just in the last few days when I was doing something drastic, but even in the weeks before when all I did was restrict my food. As soon as I told myself I couldn’t have something, all I’d be able to think about was wanting to eat a Subway sandwich or something, just because I couldn’t do it. I sort of feel like I’ve also set myself up to spend the rest of my life feeling the way I used to when I cut weight, having to make a conscious effort to avoid having something I really want, but this time there’s no point where we get to weigh in and then immediately drink 2 litres of Powerade. It’s just my whole life. I don’t want it to last that long if it’ll all feel like that.

I know, by the way, that all of this is not a sign I should start drinking again, it’s a sign that I had a bigger problem than I thought and I should definitely not be drinking. I do know that. I’d just like to be clear that I do know that. This blog is for posting whatever irrational shit I’m thinking, feeling a bit better and less scared now that I know that’s out there and I’m not trying to do it completely alone, and then later regretting ever putting anything on the internet or indeed saying anything to anyone, but still, it helps in the moment. Anyway, the point is that I know none of these feelings are good or correct or rational. I’m just trying to untangle how I spiralled so fast yesterday. Though a fair bit of it was also just being convinced that everything I’ve ever said is incorrect and makes me a terrible person. Which used to only happen when I drank but now apparently just happens all the time forever. That is also the sort of thing that makes me not want forever to be that long.

I’m pretty sure my perspective on everything is wildly skewed and I haven't been right about anything since about 2018. I definitely used to do things and not immediately regret them. I do have a bit of an excuse for how incoherent this specific post is, which is I think the pill I got at the hospital last night is having some lingering effects. And I’m not an idiot, I did rip up the prescription they gave me for more of those to take as needed if this happens again, I am not going to add a benzodiazepine addition to my life right now.

Also I feel weirdly self-conscious about the fact that I now actually sort of know a couple of the people who read this blog, so it's not just shouting anonymously into the void, sorry to those people for being weirdly more personal than you'd normally be with people you actually interact with personally, I don't have the clearest view at the moment of what's appropriate to say to anyone.

[glitterhartslittleuniverse]

Not without you (part 2)

Summery: Seungcheol reveals the bad news to Haerim.

Warning: Crying :( (might be badly written, that’s a warning) 

Year: 2014

Note: I got annoyed with this sitting in my drafts so I decided to just go ahead and finish it. It might be a bit messy towards the end but anyways here’s part 2 hehe. I hope you like it and don’t forget I always appreciate your comments and feedback:) 

part 1

Today was a good day for Haerim. She had woken up at her usual time, made breakfast with Jun, had vocal and dance lessons during the day, had lunch with Joshua and Jihoon, beat Soonyoung at arm wrestling and the group practice that evening went smoothly. The one thing that threw her off about today was the fact Seungcheol was invited to a meeting with the CEO without her. She tried not to let it bother her to much and continued with the day like nothing happened. It must not have been that important if Mr Han only wanted to see one of them and she knew Seungcheol would tell her if it was something important. When he returned to the practice room after the meeting he didn’t say anything to her so she assumed it was nothing major. There was nothing to worry about. 

Only hours later when everyone was back at the dorm and settling down for the night did Seungcheol approach her. 

“Hey,” he called to her, getting her attention immediately. “Would you like to go for a walk?” 

Haerim was a little confused by his sudden request. “Now? It’s late, everyone’s going to bed and we should too.”

“Please Haerim.” There was a hint of urgency in his voice. Taking a closer look at her friend she could see the anxiousness in his eyes. She sighed and gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Let me get my jacket.” She said before making her way to her room. She heard Seungcheol’s quiet ‘okay’ from behind her. Reaching her room she hastily grabbed her jacket and her cap getting the attention of the three girls in the room. 

“Where are you going Unnie?” Yejin asked sleepily from her bed. 

“I’m going for a walk with Seungcheol. We won’t be long.” she replied. Heading out the door again she turned back to the girls. “Good night.” 

Seungcheol was waiting for her by the door. He seemed to be lost in thought, staring at his shoes and didn’t hear her approaching. She softly called his name to get his attention. He jumped slightly and looked up at her quickly before reaching for the door handle. “Let’s go.” he said, opening the door and ushering Haerim through the doorway. 

“What’s up with you? Why are you so jumpy tonight?” Haerim questioned him, finding his behavior a little strange.

“It’s nothing.” he said. “I think I’m just tired, that’s all.” 

That was a terrible excuse but she didn’t say anything. The way he refused to look her in the eyes worried her. He only does that when there’s something he has to tell her but is afraid to. What could it be? Could it be about the meeting earlier? Suddenly Haerim felt nervous. If Seungcheol felt the need to get her out of the dorm away from the other members, it must be bad news. Not able to bear the tension she grabbed Seungcheol’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What is it Cheol? If there’s something you have to tell me just tell me!” 

Seungcheol looked like a deer caught in headlights. He should have known Haerim would catch on. But he wasn’t ready. All evening he’d been stressing over how he should break the news to her, going over what he would say and cursing the CEO for being a coward and not telling her himself. Poor Seungcheol could feel Haerim’s eyes burning holes into him as he tried to regain his composer. 

“Let’s find somewhere we can talk.” He said. Taking the hand that she grabbed his arm with in his, he lead her to a nearby park. Haerim followed behind still nervous and confused. 

The park was empty on the late, cold night. Finding a bench in sit on, the two friends sat beside each other in silence. It was an unusual, uncomfortable silence as Seungcheol tried his best to figure out the right words to say while Haerim waited anxiously for him to say something, anything. Sighing he turned to her.

“I had a meeting with Mr Han today,” he started. “He wanted to talk about Project Seventeen.” Haerim nodded, so this was about the meeting today. She didn’t say anything and waited for him to continue. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering why you didn’t go too.” 

“Yes.” she answered shortly.

“I’m sorry Haerim, believe me I wish you were there. I...” he trailed off, looking away from her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

She almost couldn’t hear the last part that he whispered under his breath but she did. “What are you saying? Seungcheol, what did he say to you?” 

He looked back and her and now she could see the tears that had started to fill his eyes. “He said that you and the girls might not be debuting with Seventeen.” 

Haerim froze, her breath stuck in her throat. It felt like her heart had stopped in that moment. All she could do was stare at Seungcheol as she took his words in. With a shaky breath she asked “Are you serious?”

“I wish I wasn’t.” The slight crack in Seungcheol’s voice caused tears to well up in Haerim’s eyes as well. Looking away she run her fingers through her hair and tried not to break down in front of her friend.

Seungcheol felt bad. He had been dreading this the moment he heard the words from Mr Han himself. Dreading Haerim’s reaction. He knows how hard she’s worked for this and just how badly she wants it. Although her face was turned away he knew she was fighting back tears. 

Haerim let out an exasperated breath. “What do we do Cheol?” Her voice coming out broken from the tears she been trying to keep at bay. 

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he spoke softly. “Look at me.” 

Slowly Haerim turned to look at her friend, meeting his equally teary eyes. With both his hands on her shoulders he spoke with all the confidents we could muster. “We’ll figurer it out okay, I promise.”

“How do you know?” Never had Haerim felt so powerless. She’s always been so confident, so sure that this was it. This is the group she belongs in, the people she belongs with. Hearing that all that might be taken away was just unbearable to her. 

“Because you are one for the most talented, hard working, kindest, most affectionate people I know.” Seungcheol said to her, letting go of her shoulders to take both her hands instead. “And if anyone deserves to debut, it’s you.” He gave her a sad smile before he continued, “If they don’t want you in this group then I won’t debut either.” 

His statement left Haerim is shock. “Seungcheol you can’t do that. The boy’s need you.”  

“And I need you!” The raised tone in which he spoke clearly surprised Haerim. He was also taken aback by the sudden outburst. “Sorry, it’s just...” He tried to search of a way to explain himself. Haerim squeezed his hands, a silent sign that it was okay and that she understood. This was about much more then Haerim and the girls losing their dream and all they’ve worked so hard for, this was about losing the friendships they’d made along the way.  

“I promised myself long ago that I won’t leave anyone behind.” Seungcheol said, looking into her eyes. “I’m keeping that promise and I promise you, Jeon Haerim, I will find a way. I won’t give up on you or the girls.” 

His words held so much confidents and certainty it caused the walls to come down, finally letting her tears fall. Seungcheol immediately took his friend into his arms, holding her tightly and letting his own tears fall too. 

After they both calmed down they returned to the dorms. Giving each other one last comforting hug they went their separate ways. Entering the room she shared with the three other girls, Haerim looked over their sleeping figures. They all looked so peaceful, so innocent and full of dreams. They’ve worked so hard to get where they are. She’d seen them improve and grow so much. She has so much pride in them for making it so far but now... 

“I promise,” she whispered into the quiet room, knowing none of them could hear her. “I won’t let you down.”

[tarisilmarwen]

Rebels Rewatch: "The Mystery of Chopper Base"

Spiders. Why did it have to be spiders.

So first off, it's hilarious and adorable that they named it "Chopper Base". Did Chopper claim dibs on the name since he's the one who found it or did they name it after him to be all, "Okay, yeah, you did really good this time." as a nice little way to honor him?

*chants* At-ol-lon, At-ol-lon, At-ol-lon, At-ol-lon. :D

Ahhh haven't heard the mellow variation of the Main Titles theme in a while.

Actually I think this is the same cue that opened "Path of the Jedi" I recognize these little string ditties.

Kanan and Ezra have been sparring in the cargo hold for hours, it's implied, and Sabine has been watching. You can already hear from the modified buzzing that the sabers are in training mode, and Kanan is performing a lot of basic strikes, reminding Ezra of the fundamentals maybe?

In light of his internal decision in "Shroud of Darkness" Kanan has apparently resolved to cram in as much last-minute lightsaber practice as possible before they have to go off and possibly confront Vader and the Inquisitors. He's pushing Ezra a little bit hard, and you can hear Ezra's frustration.

Something interesting I notice during this sparring session is that Kanan seems to be particularly focusing on getting Ezra to get out of situations where he's pinned against a wall.

HOO BOY all the little tiny things that wound up being horrible portents of things to come this episode.

"You win by surviving." Kanan already trying to correct Ezra in a "how we choose to fight" fashion.

Ezra's particularly snippy after all that, normally Sabine complimenting him would make him beam and try to say something cute or clever back but here he's just huffy and irritated.

"But since when are you my enemy?" *CRIES IN SIX MONTH GAP BETWEEN SEASON 2 AND SEASON 3 FEELS*

Hera's expression turns somber and downcast (which Sabine notices) riiiiight in time for us to have a fanfareless titlecard.

A very broken-down variation of the "Shenanigans" cue, with precise military-drum percussion accompanying it.

Hera unamused by Kanan's "excited face" lolol.

"So I can expect them to be late all the time then." Lol, yep, sorry AP, you picked a very disorganized scrappy band of underdogs.

Ha ha spoke too soon, Rex. Spoke too soon.

I feel so bad for Dicer, she didn't deserve to be spider chow. :(

Some clever foreshadowing with the dokma crouching under the sensor though.

"Everything you need." "...Except you and Ezra." :((((( Ugh the way Kanan and Hera's thread this episode feels vaguely like a messy divorce/separation in places.

Just because Hera understands and accepts that Kanan and Ezra have to leave to keep the rest of the base safe doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, doesn't make her any less worried and anxious.

Lol Chopper running straight into Ezra while chasing the dokma that got in.

Ah frick this scene.

This whole episode has this melancholy feel of the calm before the storm. Building up an anticipation of major narrative shake-ups, giving us a breather before things get really crazy.

"The deep breath before the plunge", as it were, since I know the nerds working on this show adore the Lord of the Rings films.

It permeates the whole story, infused in every small sad expression, every innocuous line of dialogue that hurts so much more afterwards.

Catch me crying forever about Ezra and Zeb's friendship and how close they've gotten and how sweet it is.

ALSO PLEASE DON'T THINK ABOUT ZEB THINKING BACK TO THIS MOMENT AFTER THE FINALE HAPPENS, WISHING AND HOPING FOR THE DAY WHEN HE CAN KEEP HIS PROMISE TO SWAP WAR STORIES WITH EZRA AND MISSING HIS LITTLE BROTHER TERRIBLY.

Ahhh I see we brought back the Fyrnock cue, once again signaling something dangerous and hungry lurking in the dark.

NOOOOOOOOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE. I DO NOT LIKE THE KRYKNA I DO NOT LIKE THEM.

"Aim for the eyes." Right and it turns out to be actually very hard to hit the eyes so that helps only slightly.

Cheeky Ezra with his lightsaber flashlight lol.

"We've got to get used to not having them around." :((((( No one knew at the time how long Kanan and Ezra were going to be separated from the rest so this hit a lot sadder back then. Still ouch tho.

Sabine so worried about Hera. :(

HA HA LOOK AT THIS BOY HE SEES A STRANGE NEW DANGEROUS CREATURE AND HIS EYES JUST LIGHT UP ALL, "I WILL MAKE IT MY FRIEND! :D"

He's so excited to try and connect with it aww.

Hints to the strained tension between Kanan and Ezra, they immediately fall to bickering once the threat is dealt with.

I... don't even wanna think about what they were going to use Rex for, probably storing him for food after they ate Dicer.

People complained about the fact that shots kept missing the eyes but I appreciate this little bit of realism about shot accuracy. Even trained marksmen will have trouble with a small moving target like that, they won't always hit the eyes every single time first try.

Lightsabers be more effective. :)

See, this is what I'm talking about, Zeb has great clustering, but the eyes are a four-inch round bullet hole on a moving hungry target with long legs.

Ezra's nervous little, "Well, we're safe in here, right?" and Hera's inability to confirm it.

These things even shrug off turret blasts ghgshkjh.

AND Hera's trick with the electrified hull that worked on the Fyrnocks.

The tense situation is fraying Ezra's already raw nerves. Love Sabine rolling her eyes all, "Okay chill for a minute drama queen."

"What am I doing on the ramp?"

Lol Ezra's idea is "Hurl girlfriend at problem to make it go away."

That panic in Kanan and Ezra's faces when they think they've flung her too far. <3

Badass family shot.

Sabine glancing from Hera to Kanan all, "Soooooo either of you gonna talk about the issues? No?"

Sabine sounds so sad here. :(

That palm to her forehead all, "My gosh this idiot." There's this hurt in her eyes and voice when tells Kanan, "[...]you're still walking out... and taking Ezra with you." A very loaded phrase and an interesting one. Sabine's choice of words here, "walking out" feels like a bit of a call forward to her backstory reveal, and also possibly more how she feels about the situation, rather than Hera.

Mayhap there be a niggling negative voice in her head that's saying, You're abandoning me and you're taking away my best friend too.

"We're gonna be okay" wow the layers in that one. We as in him and Hera, relationship-wise, we as in him and Ezra, physical safety-wise.

*SOBS OVER THIS EMBRACE AND "WE'LL SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN, I PROMISE."*

Frick they really know how to pull the Harsher In Hindsight on us.

Ezra still trying to connect with the krykna. :(((( That was the one talent he was better at than Kanan, that made Kanan so proud of him just a few episodes ago, and now it doesn't work.

Imperial March sliding into the strings there, as the convor heralds Ahsoka's arrival.

OH.

OH WAIT.

WAIT.

FFFFFFFFFF--WAS THAT DELIBERATE??!!???!

Wide-shot, pan up, Ezra walking towards the camera as the pan drops him out of frame, THAT WAS DELIBERATE WASN'T IT???!!???

ANSWER MEEEEEEE.

Ezra's theme plays haltingly one last time, the last note souring and the ominous Imperial March taking its place.

And boy if my levels of dread had not been sky high before lol.

As I said before, this episode is permeated with a sense of impending change, portents of doom hanging over us. It was very effective at setting the stage for "Twilight of the Apprentice", mentally preparing us for that crowbar piledrive into our kneecaps.

This is NOT filler it is NECESSARY connective tissue between the finale and the rest of the season and I will hear no slander about it.

It's just good writing.

[zaevauhm]

Barcelona 1/4

this was actually the first thing I ever wrote` + english is not my first language + mentions of anxiety + 2.4k word count

it’s the first part to a 4 chapter story

‘’Do we have everything?’’ Anxiously, you looked up at your friend Layla. ‘’Yes, let’s go, we will be late, babe.’’ She replied, looking back at you from your bed. You could tell she was really trying to get through to you by the way her big blue eyes were staring you down. The two of you were sat in your bedroom, busy packing two small bags.

You were in desperate need of any sort of escape, the stress about more than one thing was really getting to you by now. Uni, work, not to mention your terrible mental health that seemed to even escape the notice of your closest friends. You were an absolute pro at hiding how you were actually feeling; it was getting scary by now. You were always the person that others leaned on, that others came to for help and support. Always the giver, never the taker. Just the fact that you had friends to begin with, was enough for you. Grateful nature is how you justified your actions to yourself.

It was a no brainer that when your mother, who you rarely saw, called for you to visit her and some other family members during a business trip in Barcelona, you didn’t spend much time thinking about it. It meant a drive of approximately 12 hours, and a week of being away. Good timing, you figured.

You made a call to one of your closer friends, asking her to go with you. Of course, as expected, she was beyond excited. You packed for your little getaway in under a couple of hours, and were ready to leave during the early morning hours. The trip would give you two some much needed time together to catch up and you’d be able to do some much needed stress relief.

Liege, Luxembourg, Lyon, Montpellier…

You’d spend a lot of time behind the wheel naturally, as a 2nd year motorsport engineering student, but for some reason this drive was different. You didn't want to slow down, and didn’t necessarily want to arrive quickly either. Your first long stop to eat wasn’t until you arrived at the very south of the somewhat cold country of France. Carefully you parked at a big gas station, letting out a yawn and grabbing your phone from the console to check some notifications, right before your breath got stuck in your throat.

‘’Are you okay?’’ Layla asked you as she noticed you started to look pale in the face.

You opened your work group chat after hours, or better said probably days of leaving it muted. Your eyes immediately fell on the PDF document that was sent by your boss not long ago.

F1 Winter test in Barcelona 23-25 February, 2022. It is February 22nd today.

SHIT

‘’Uhm yes I’m fine, let’s go inside’’ you mumbled.

You ordered for both you and Layla. Somehow managing to speak a well-understandable French. The two of you ate, a pasta that felt like it was going to hurt your stomach later, but you two were never picky when it came to food, especially not during trips. Layla showing you the guy she was talking to this week, you laughed and finished up before you made your way down the stairs of the restaurant, walking back to the gas station.

Your car was filled up, your body stretched a little bit and your energy reloaded enough for the last push of the drive.

Before you got back into the car, you told Layla you’d go back inside the gas station to take an aspirin quickly. ‘’Just in case’’, you said.

Slightly worried, Layla nodded her head at you, while closing the passenger door of your car. She wasn’t stupid either. It was quite obvious something was going on in your head, even though you were laughing with her just a minute ago.

You left to the bathrooms that were located outside the building, opened WhatsApp again to be sure of what you just read. How could you be so stupid? You completely forgot about it. Was it a good or a bad thing, even?

It was only a while ago that you met the person who you’ve been trying to get out of your head ever since. You remember it so vividly, that one night.

You were sat inside of your car with your colleague and friend Alex. The drivers’ door open, looking down at your phone, waiting for the que that you two could go home. Meanwhile a lot of Marshalls were outside the gates of the Zandvoort circuit, waiting for everyone that was working on the track that day to exit safely.

Mechanics exited, team principals, trucks, engineers, marshalls, eventually drivers as well. A lot of men exiting would honk, wink, smile or try to get your attention in any other way. You remember how disgusting it made you feel. It was late, you were tired, most of the fans had already left. The cold Dutch air that kept flowing in your car was the only thing keeping you awake at that point. You saw fans screaming at Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz and Pierre Gasly. Some of them stopped to take pictures with them, you could see just outside the gates. Good for them, you thought.

You honestly didn’t bat an eye, you were never the type to care for famous people, even if they were F1 drivers. Even if your life constantly revolved around racing and working on the tracks. You figured it's nothing more than a nice feature on your student curriculum. Was that really the reason you started working there, though?

Your thoughts were irrupted when Alex smirked and poked your arm with his elbow. ‘’What?’’ You replied dryly, without bothering to look up from your phone, looking at a story Lewis Hamilton had posted hours prior. You were a complete mess when it came to him, you’d never dare to go near him in fear of literally fainting. That’s how big of a crush you had on him, he was your only idol, the only person you were looking up to. It felt like something completely childish to you, and besides, this was real life. Not some fairy-tale where everything would somehow be possible. He was nothing but a far, far away dream.

’’I think someone fancies you’’, he chuckles.

You look up to Alex and notice him looking past you, to your left. You turn, only to directly meet the eyes of Lewis Hamilton. There he was, in the actual flesh. He drove past you, as anyone else, on his way to the exit. The only difference is that he stopped. For a few seconds you exchanged the most electrifying eye contact you’d ever had in your life. He smiled at you, obviously knowing what he was doing.

‘’Get out and talk to him, this is your chance!’’ Alex shouted. You felt like your stomach had just dropped out of your body. You were perplexed, you couldn’t even think straight. Your mind going blank, and the only thing you could do out of shame, is looking away, you couldn’t afford him to see you while you didn’t even know what kind of facial expression to make. From the side of your eye, you noticed his smile disappearing, waiting for a few more seconds before finally driving off, leaving you behind. You never saw him again.

Even though it was an excuse to get some fresh air and think about what you’re going to do in Barcelona, you got some aspirins from the gas station and a bottle of water. Popped two and swallowed them quickly. You figured that remembering that night would eventually give you a headache anyway. You couldn’t quite believe what happened, even though it might have seemed like nothing to anyone else. That was a one in a million, gazillion chance that he would have been able to talk to you. There was no one around, except your colleague.

No cameras, no interviewers, nothing. Before you go all emotional you stop yourself there and man up. You exited the building to walk back to the car, figuring that you would see what to do with the information of you two being in the same place during the same time again once you get there. Knowing your friend all too well, though, you knew that she was just the right person to tell this to. But how? You were honestly ashamed for not being the strong, confident person everyone thought you were when it came to guys, especially in the eyes of your friends.

You lower yourself into the big, black leather seats of your white Mercedes, wanting them to swallow you whole at this point. Layla obviously looked right through your facade. ‘’You know you can tell me anything, right?’’

‘’Yes, I know’’ you replied. ‘’It’s just stupid, you’ll probably think I’m an idiot for even thinking about this’’. You sighed.

‘’I can literally tell something is bothering you, do I need to beat someone up?’’

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. You loved your friends; they would go to the ends of the earth for you. Sometimes you wonder what you did to deserve them, being so introverted in contrast to them.

‘’I think I might be in love with someone who is going to be in Barcelona, just like us’’. You spilled.

Layla looked at you more shocked than you’ve ever seen her before. With wide eyes, she couldn’t help but yell. ‘’YOU?!’’

‘’You’re in WHAT? HOW? WHO? How the hell am I just hearing about this now, you little….’’

‘’Well, obviously, you know, not in actual love, just-’’

‘’Hold on now.’’ Layla stopped you. ‘’Start from the beginning. Details.’’

She had every right to react like that, you were probably the last person to let out these words. You never had many crushes, or even boyfriends, despite all of the attention. The last time you were happily dating someone or being intimate must have been years ago. You usually kept to yourself when it came to these things anyway, but there simply hasn’t been much to tell.

‘’It’s nothing, it’s not going anywhere, it’s impossible…’’ you started, tone directly much lower, stopping when you noticed the crack in your voice. You felt so small all of a sudden, trying to push yourself back more in the seats of your car, as if you could somehow hide. You really didn’t want to admit to these feelings, not even to yourself.

‘’Who is it?’’

‘’Lewis.’’

‘’Lewis Hamilton?’’ Layla replied, looking at you, furrowing her eyebrows.

‘’Yeah.’’ You dragged the word out, making it almost questionable, while looking down at your fingers that were resting on the bottom of your steering wheel.

‘’Why wouldn’t that work?’’ She surprised you. ‘’Have you seen yourself?’’  You knew she wasn’t lying to you, you were undeniably beautiful, if you had to believe others. Always being mistaken for some model or some instagram celebrity, especially at tracks. In all honesty, you could have easily passed for one, anyways. Your mental health and self-image would always be your biggest enemy, because even with the daily compliments you got, even from strangers, you would never see yourself like they do.

‘’Obvious reasons.’’

Everything spilled, you told her about your feelings, especially since Zandvoort last year. Layla was carefully listening to you. Nodding here and there, processing everything in her head. You could tell she was going to come up with some crazy solution that only she could think of, you truly loved her for this.

‘’But he noticed you in Zandvoort?’’

‘’Yeah, I guess. He saw me and stopped before I saw him’’.

‘’My god.’’

‘’Lay, what do you want me to do? DM him and say ‘’hey, I’m that blonde girl you’ve exchanged eye contact with somewhere a year ago, remember me?’’ It would sound ridiculous. He gets attention from girls on the daily, there is no way he would even remember me’’. You let out a deep sigh. ‘’But it’s just... I can’t shake him either.’’

‘’Look, it’s not going to be that hard. You’re going to that winter testing, and you’ll get to see him again. I’m sure of it.’’ Layla firmly spoke. ‘’We should go, I feel like we’ve been sitting here for hours, and you have someone to reunite you with,'' she says while squeezing your cheek softly with her fingers, earning a smile from you.

You noticed from that moment her whole focus shifted to you; she would be super selfless for the rest of the trip. You trusted her, and trusted that whatever was going to happen, it would somehow work out. All you really wanted was to get rid of the knot in your stomach, and the best person to help you achieve that goal was Layla. She is the type of person that doesn’t let anything she wanted slip away from her. A quality you appreciated more than ever before now.

It’s 8 PM, you’re still in the south of France, about 5 hours removed from Barcelona.

The rest of the drive was a complete blur, you were tired both mentally and physically, but the first sign that showed ‘’Barcelona’’ in big letters gave you a little bit of energy, as well as terrible nerves flushing through your body, keeping you awake.

You were happy to finally arrive to the hotel, calling a receptionist to send someone to take your bags, stepping out of the car in the middle of the somewhat warm night. You had missed this, the lit- up palm trees, the smell of the salty sea hitting you like you were tens of thousands of miles away from home.

‘’I’m so happy our hotel is right by the beach, bless the wallets of that family of yours’’ Layla joked at you laughing, as she also got out of the car to the sights of the Arts Hotel.

You giggled back at her. ‘’You’re welcome.’’ You didn’t come from a rich family, but certainly a wealthy one. Whatever you would have, you were more than happy to share with your friends. If you could take them with you, you would.

7 AM

Sunrays started to heat your face, as you turned around trying to desperately fall back into sleep. You felt fussy, drenched from the drive as nerves starting to hit you. You hated these types of mornings when the first thing you would feel was anxiety. Slowly moving your arm around to find your phone somewhere between the sheets, trying not to wake Layla. 7:01 AM. Already? Really? You thought. After closing the curtains when you got up to get some water, you slowly let yourself sink back into the big bed. Luckily, the next time you opened your eyes and check your phone 3 hours had passed, and you felt ready to actually start your day.

[lediz-watches]

Mom Can't Cook: A DCOM Podcast

It's a podcast. You don't 'watch' a podcast. I appreciate that. I'm still going to rant about it because I just finished another listen-through and, much like the hosts themselves, simply must talk about how I have spent many hours of my life recently.

So if you have never heard of Mom Can't Cook, the short version is two grown-ass men watching and recapping Disney Channel Original Movies from the late 90s-mid 00s.

But what it really is, is this:

Friends, there will be a time in your life as a consumer of media in which you start consuming a media that you KNOW is going to be bad. Maybe you loved it when you were younger, maybe you couldn't be bothered reaching for the remote, maybe you're just that bored, maybe a friend or a family member or a child you're babysitting is making you sit through it, but the point is, you consume the media. And it's as bad as you thought it would be. It annoys you. You hate it. You want to throw things at it. But you keep sitting through it. You can't stop. You must continue to consume it until there is nothing more to consume. You are, you realise with dawning horror, a little bit in love with this thing. You have spent hundreds of hours and possibly actual money on a thing that you knew, objectively and academically, was absolutely terrible. And yet. And yet.

You enjoyed yourself.

And you must confess your sins.

That's what this podcast is about.

It's actually Luke Westaway and Andy Farrant, two British internet personalities ostensibly employed in games journalism, recapping Disney Channel Original Movies from the late 90s-mid-00s. During lockdown, they spent Friday nights watching these movies together (I suspect in lieu of going to the pub), and now they simply have to talk about them because DCOMs are the kind of insane fever dream you simply must talk about and they are slaves to the grind internet personalities who try to make content out of everything.

I love it for a number of reasons:

Luke and Andy are very fun to listen to in general. They are very good at playing off each other, building on each other's ideas, getting increasingly ridiculous and yet somehow never managing to reach the heights of a Disney Channel Original Movie from the late 90s-mid 00s. At least, they haven't yet (Ninji from Oxtra Mario Golf came close, but that was technically Mike's fault). I think they consider it a challenge.

Andy in particular has these beautiful turns of phrase that perfectly encapsulate the feeling of an adult watching the kind of insanity that seems perfectly reasonable to a kid watching a kids' movie but, twenty years later and as the wrong audience, can only be described as mildly traumatising.

Luke is wonderful at just... embodying the part of you that gets swept up in the madness, knows you're getting swept up in the madness, tries desperately to hold on to sanity, and then can only take solace in the fact that maybe it won't be so bad to go insane because hey, it's kind of fun here...

By the time the Disney Channel reached my country, I was too old (/too young) to be watching most of it, so while I may have seen ads for them, I never saw these movies. And now, I'm too infected with Cultural Studies to get through them without dissecting their context and what they're saying and why and ugh... Listening to the recaps allow me to experience them without actually having to watch them.

Regardless of how they actually feel about it, Mom Can't Cook always feels to me like a bit of a love letter to a guilty pleasure. The DCOMs are bad, and Luke and Andy will go into detail about how bad they are, but it had this thread of affection to it that I adore. Maybe it was lockdown, maybe it was just time spent with friends, who knows, but they got something very important out of these terrible movies, and they're passing that on to their listeners (Honestly we should be compensated for this trauma). But jokes aside, this podcast is actually representative of why I love fandom, and being online, despite what a terrible place I find it most of the time. It's representative of why I occasionally post to this blog. I love talking about the things I consume. Whether they're good or bad, they speak to something in me, and I want to talk back! So it's... indulgent and wonderful, and I love it. And I love this podcast for speaking to that part of me.

I intended to write short reviews on spotify, but I listen on my laptop and spotify doesn't have that functionality on PC for some reason. And by the time I was confident enough to rant like this I couldn't remember individual episodes well enough to go back and do it on my phone. So it will be a next-time thing.

But in the meantime, I must share the lines that now live rent-free in my head:

"With the unearned confidence of a Marnie". I desperately need this down the leg of some workout leggings, and yet for some reason it isn't even Tshirt merch. No one will understand why, but I need it on workout gear specifically.

"But why did they give up their hands?" I bought this shirt, and I'm going to buy it again because I bought two sizes too big for reasons that I swear made sense at the time. It makes me grin every time I look at it.

"But there was simply no time/budget." I think this is more about Luke's delivery whenever he says it, but I love it. As a person who works in projects and actually does need to live with the consequences of terrible compromises fairly often, it also speaks to my soul.

"And I hate him." Again, it's in the delivery. Mom's got a date with a vampire remains one of my favourite episodes at least partly because of this one (two? Three? I don't remember how often it got said) line.

"Because [insert noun here] is good, actually." Whether sarcastic or not. It's just a turn of phrase that now exists in my head.

I just... I don't know what the hosts intended, but what I hear is the incredible affection for this waste of their Friday nights. For stupid, terrible, insane entertainment that we watch and consume and struggle to comprehend and yet which entertains us. And I love that so much.

Because entertainment is so important, and so wonderful, even when it's objectively terrible or just plain nonsensical, because it - ack. I'm just getting way too philosophical about what entertainment is and how we respond to it, so I'm just gonna leave this one here.

Mom Can't Cook is a good podcast. I'm so happy it exists.