#probably i should tell my pi to pls not call me that but like i dont want her to feel like shes made me uncomfortable bc its not her fault

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Hey, this is maybe a weird ask but to any "Women in Science" out there: What does it mean do you to be a Women in STEM?

Everytime I get labeled as, such my brain goes: "That's supposed to make you feel Something." but I'm unsure of what that Something is to the point that I can't even formulate a political answer to the question and have an existential crisis Haha

[leossmoonn]

Play Ground Days

masterlist

pairing - carl gallagher x fem!reader

type - fluff

note / request - “ughh FINALLY someone that writes good imagines abt carl from shameless! could you write one where you two grew up together and you've always been close n stuff and then at some point he realizes he loves the reader and he talks to ian and lip (maybe mickey too bc i love him) about it? (fem!reader btw if that's cool) thanks babe xx” thanks for inspo on the beginning @poesflygirl​ <3 ,,, carl and you are 16 also pls dont come for me ive only played COD 2 times last year so lmao i dont remember a lot about it, enjoy!

summary - carl has liked you since you two were young, and seeks advice from his brothers and mickey

warnings - strong language, drugs and alcohol, little talk about bad body imagine 

————

*gif isnt mine*

“I fucking knew it!” Lip exclaimed.

“Why are you telling us? We’ve known this.” Ian commented, smirking at his little brother.  

“How the hell—” Carl started. 

“You’re not exactly great at hiding your crush on her,” Mickey chuckled. 

Carl’s eyes were the size of saucers. “You knew?”

“Of course I did. I’m not fucking Helen Keller,” Mickey rolled his eyes. 

Carl groaned and ran his hands roughly through his hair. “I can’t believe this. Well, secret’s out, I guess. What do I do?”

“Just go tell her you like her. It’s not like she’s going to turn you down.” Lip shrugged, putting his cigarette to his lips. 

“Lip!” Ian hit his brother’s shoulder. 

“What?” Lip asked. 

“You weren’t supposed to say that, dumbass,” Mickey said.

 “What does that mean?” Carl asked, looking in-between his brother’s and Mickey. 

Lip sighed. “Ah, shit, right. I’ve already said too much.”

————

4 hours earlier: 2:00 PM

“Hey, shit head!” She called out, throwing rocks against the window. 

Carl got up from his bed, shocked but happy to see her. He opened his window, leaning against the frame. 

“What’re you doing here?” He asked.

She threw the rocks to the ground. “Escaping from my druggie dad, duh. What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” Carl shrugged. 

She did her signature smirk that always made Carl’s heart flutter. “Wanna go and stuff our faces at Patsy’s Pies?”

Carl’s eyes lit up at the mention of fatty, greasy food. “Hell yeah. I’ll come down.”

She nodded, going to the front of their house. Carl ran down the stairs, putting on his shoes and opening the door to find her on the steps. 

“Hey, why didn’t you just come into the house?” Carl asked, shutting the door behind him. 

“Putting damage on your window seemed more fun. Oh, hey! Do you have an extra bed I can sleep in tonight?” She asked. 

Carl nodded. “Yeah, of course. Your dad is that bad, huh?”

“Yep, he relapsed. Super fun,” she laughed sarcastically. 

“I’m sorry. That shit sucks,” Carl said.

She shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s life. Anyways, ready to go?”

Carl nodded. They got into her car, the girl starting it and driving fast to the dinner. As she was driving, humming to the songs on the radio, Carl stared at her. She was absolutely gorgeous. 

Her name was Y/n L/n. Carl’s oldest and only real friend. They had grown up together, Y/n living only a few houses away from him. They had met in detention in 1st grade and had been close ever since. 

“What’re you staring at?” Y/n asked, glancing over to him. 

Carl blushed. “Nothing.”

“Alright,” Y/n sang.

Carl had often been caught staring at her. It was something he usually did from time to time, but now it was more often. He couldn’t help it. There was something about her. Maybe flawless her skin was, how pretty and bright her smile and eyes were, the way she would make him feel secure and loved, something he had never got from anyone consitently. 

He never really knew why he thought those things about her. People had told him that he probably had a crush on her, but he knew that wasn’t right. He had crushes on girls before and the things he was feeling for Y/n were a lot different than what he had felt for his past girlfriends. He figured it was just that she was his closest friend and he happened to be a horny teenager, so naturally, he just thought those things about her. But oh, how wrong he actually was. 

Y/n parked her car at Patsy’s Pies. They walked into the diner, seeing Fiona at the register. 

“Hey, Fi,” Y/n smiled. 

“Hey, Y/n, Carl! Long time, no see. How are ya?” Fiona asked. 

“Good, good,” Y/n smiled. 

“Good,” Carl said. 

“Great! Well, get yourself seated and someone will be right with you,” she smiled. 

Y/n and walked off to a small booth and sat down. They picked up the menus that were already on the table. 

“You gonna get your usual?” Y/n asked. 

Carl shrugged. “Maybe. Should I change it up?”

“Yes. The double bacon cheeseburger looks good,” Y/n said. 

“Are you getting that?” Carl asked. 

“Maybe. I’ll probably get a salad or something. Gotta watch those calories, you know?” She half-joked, putting a hand on her stomach. 

“I think you look good. You don’t need to worry,” Carl smiled. 

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Carl nodded. 

Y/n looked back at the menu, hiding her embarrassment.

Carl complimenting her was something that was rare, but did happen. Y/n never remembered Carl as a romantic type of guy, but it seems that he had developed  those traits from having a few girlfriends. She liked that, actually. She liked him complimenting her, staring at her for minutes at a time, the way his ears would turn red when she teased him. She liked all of that. 

Y/n would never admit it to anyone, but she had a crush on Carl. She had a crush on him since their freshman year of high school. Well, in reality, she probably has always had one, but the first time she really realised she liked him was in biology when he got in trouble in one of the labs. She remembered when the teacher was yelling at him and he looked at her, smiling at her mischievously and winking at her. That wink had her heart racing and mind go foggy. From then on, she had liked him as more than a friend. Yet, she never said anything because well, as cliche as it was, she was afraid of ruining their friendship. He was really the only one who got her and who never abandoned her. She couldn’t lose him, so she just kept her feelings and gestures to him as friendly as she could.  

“Hi, I’m Carly and I’ll be serving you today. What can I get you today?” The waitress asked. 

“Hi, can I get the philly cheesesteak with a medium coke and fries,” Carl ordered. 

Carly nodded and wrote his order down, turning to Y/n. 

“Um, I’ll get the bacon cheeseburger with a small sprite and fries. Thanks,” Y/n ordered. 

Carly took their menus. “Great. I’ll have your drinks out soon.”

Y/n and Carl smiled at the waitress as she walked away. 

“Hey, so I thought your dad was in rehab,” Carl said. 

Y/n sighed. “He was, but I guess his girlfriend got him drunk, then convinced him to do some lines. God, I can’t believe he's even with her still.”

Carl frowned. “What about your mom? Where’s she?”

“She’s going to nursing school right now. She’s the only one responsible in this family, yet she never calls or anything,” she scoffed.

“You’re really responsible,” Carl said. 

Y/n smiled. “Thanks, C. You are, too.”

Carl laughed, “Me? I sold drugs on the streets once.”

She giggled. “True. But you’ve really shaped. I'm proud.”

Carl smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Y/n hummed a ‘you’re welcome’. Carly came back with their food quickly and they dug in. Carl and Y/n spent their time talking and eating, spending about 2 hours there as they just kept talking. 

“Are you two finished?” Carly asked, gesturing to their empty plates. 

“Yeah,” Carl nodded. 

“Great. Here’s your bill, pay whenever you’re ready,” Carly smiled and took their dirty dishes. 

“Ready to go?” Y/n asked. 

Carl nodded and got out his wallet that he had in his shorts. Meanwhile, Y/n also got out her wallet. They both looked up at each other, awkward expressions on their faces. 

“Oh, I was gonna pay,” Carl said. “No, no, my treat. I invited you here,” Y/n said. 

“You sure?” Carl asked. 

She smiled and put a hand on his arm. “Yes, I am, Carl.”

Butterflies irrupted in Carl’s stomach as she touched him. He nodded slowly, putting his credit card away. Y/n and him walked up to the register and paid for their meal. They then went back to Y/n car. 

“What do you wanna do now?” Y/n asked. 

“Wanna play COD Black Ops 3?” Carl asked. 

“Yes!” Y/n smiled. She drove them back to his house, parking haphazardly on the street. 

The two hurried into the house, grabbing a seat on the couch. Carl got the controllers, turning onto the playstation. Y/n logged onto her account, selecting the gun she wanted to use. Carl then started the game. 

“Where are you?” Y/n squinted her eyes at the screen. 

“Right behind you,” Carl smirked. 

Y/n turned around, gasping as Carl shot her. 

“Fuck you!” Y/n exclaimed. 

“Little rusty, huh?” Carl teased. She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna kill you next round.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Carl said. 

“Winner gets to pick what’s for dinner,” Y/n said. 

“Deal,” Carl nodded. 

The pair played for a couple hours, the game ending with Y/n getting the last kill. 

“Good game,” she smirked, setting the controller down. 

“I forgot how good you were at this,” Carl frowned. Y/n giggled, “I forgot how bad you were.”

Carl rolled his eyes with a smile. “Alright, where do you want to eat?”

“Hm… Noodles n Company?” She suggested. 

“Sure,” Carl nodded. 

“Alright, I’m gonna use the bathroom and then order. Text me what you want,” Y/n said, getting up from the couch. 

Carl nodded and watched her go upstairs to use the bathroom. Then that’s when Lip, Ian, and Mickey all came into the house. 

“Hey, guys,” Carl said. 

“Hey,” Ian smiled. 

“Is Y/n here? We saw her car out front,” Lip said. “Yeah, she is,” Carl nodded. 

“Asked her out yet?” Lip smirked. Carl’s face turned red. “Wh-What?”

“Oh, you’re not in love with her then?” Ian furrowed his brows. 

“I… am I?” Carl asked. 

Ian chuckled. “Yeah. You always are always happy around her, blush whenever she teases you.”

“And you’re always staring at her,” Lip added.

“That doesn’t mean I like her,” Carl said.

“Do feel dizzy and nauseous when she touches you? Does your heart race when she gets close? Do you see yourself kissing her? Would you do anything for her?” Ian asked. 

Carl furrowed his brows. They were right, all those things did happen when she was near. She was his best friend. He also sometimes think about kissing her and being with her in a romantic way. And yeah, of course he would do anything for her. Maybe… Maybe he did love her. 

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. “I… I guess I am in love with her.”

And that, ladies and gents, is where we left off. Lip, Ian, and Mickey teased Carl until Carl begged them for real help. 

“What do you mean?” Carl asked anxiously. 

Lip looked to Ian and Mickey for help on what to say. Little did Carl know, Y/n actually did admit her crush to someone. And that someone, or someones, were Lip, Ian, and Mickey. 

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Mickey said. 

“Did she say something to you?” Carl asked. “No,” Ian shook his head. “Like Mick said, don’t worry.”

“I… fine. Well, what do I do then?” Carl asked in slight distress.

“Give her some flowers and chocolate. Girls love that shit,” Lip suggested. 

“Alright,” Carl nodded. “I don’t know what her favourite flowers are, though.”

“Just get her roses. That’s really romantic,” Lip said. 

Carl smiled, “Alright. Awesome. Thanks, guys.”

He decided to get the flowers early morning tomorrow before Y/n woke up. 

————

Carl sneaked back into the house, hoping not to wake Y/n up. As he walked into the kitchen, he was shocked to see her at the table drinking coffee. 

“Hey, Carl!” Y/n smiled. 

Carl’s eyes were blown wide. “I.. uh…”

“Who are those for?” Y/n got up and pointed to the flowers and chocolate in his hand. 

“Um… you?” Carl said. Y/n smiled. “Me? What did I do to deserve this?”

Carl knew that he couldn’t make up an excuse. He was horrible at lying to her. So, he decided to just have his confession here. 

“I.. I’m in love with you,” Carl said. Y/n’s jaw dropped and she froze. “Wha-What?”

“My brothers and Mickey helped me realise I was yesterday when you were ordering dinner. They told me I should get you flowers and stuff so I did. I hope you like roses,” Carl explained and held up the gifts. 

Y/n’s lips upturned in a wide smile. “How long have you liked me?”

“Honestly, probably since we were little,” Carl shrugged sheepishly. 

Y/n giggled. “Me, too.”

“Really?” Carl smiled. 

Y/n waked up to him and took the gifts, setting them on the kitchen counter. She went up to him and put her arms around his neck. 

“Yep. I always have,” she grinned. 

“Oh, sick!” Carl exclaimed. “Oh wait.”

“What?” Y/n asked in confusion. 

“That’s what they meant!” Carl exclaimed in realisation.

“Who? What?” “Oh, Lip, Mickey, and Ian kind of told me yesterday when I asked for help,” Carl explained. 

Y/n’s eyes widened and she turned to the stairs, glaring. “Mickey, Lip, Ian! You better fucking run!”  

————

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[ptergwen]

only you and me

w/c: 6.7k

warnings: angst, mentions of weed, and some swearing

summary: whenever peter tries to tell you how he feels, harry gets in the way

a/n: ahhhh hi my loves! my mini writing break is over :,) life has been just a mess for me and i’ve been way more critical than usual about my work but i’m doing a little better and ready to get back into everything! this helped me a lot so i’m excited to share it with y’all <3 it’s also my first time writing harry osborn so lmk how i did lmaooofwfjj but yeah pls enjoy

-

“dude, she’s right there! just tell her!” ned whisper yells to peter, elbowing him for emphasis. they’re hidden behind a wall to watch you at your locker. you’re grabbing books while betty rants to you and mj rolls her eyes. “not now. she looks... busy,” peter gulps, gaze trailing down your body. he always finds excuses to put off telling you how he feels.

or rather, excuses find him. something comes up every time he gets the courage to do it. he has no idea why he’s so scared because he’s pretty sure you like him back. pretty sure. there are a few reasons why you might not. also, plenty why you might. you stay up late texting most nights, and you’ve even flirted a couple of times. it never fails to make peter blush. he trips over his words whenever he tries to flirt back.

he’s had feelings for you since the first time you two hung out alone. none of your other friends could make it, but you happily took him up on his offer to come over. you grinned through his whole apartment tour, asked about may and what she does. when peter showed you his room, you even complimented his movie posters, much to his surprise.

“really? you don’t think they’re, like, dorky?”

“no, peter. your interests aren’t dorky. everyone likes what they like.”

and, he liked you. he knew it from that point on. you’d know it too if the universe wouldn’t keep stopping him from saying that.

“she’s so...” peter pauses for a second. him and ned watch you pull betty in by her shoulders as if you’re going to kiss her. she dodges you, mj pushing her back, all three of you giggling about it before you grab betty’s hands and give her words of encouragement. “cool,” peter finishes, turning back to ned. “i mean, how she puts herself out there like that.”

“what’s stopping you from doing the same thing?” ned points out with a knowing smile that peter returns. you make it look so easy. whenever you’re comfortable around people, you can let go of any doubts you have. you stop worrying about what they might think and instead do what you want. it’s inspiring to peter, and heart warming getting to be one of the people you’re fully you with.

he wishes he could apply your wisdom himself.

peter shakes his head, staring down at the floor. “oh, you know. anxiety, fear of rejection. that fun stuff.” “so, yourself,” ned concludes, clapping peter’s backpack so hard it makes him stumble forward. betty and mj wave goodbye to you before heading to their first class. you’re still getting your things together at your locker. this is peter’s moment.

“come on, dude! y/n’s not busy anymore. you got this.” ned keeps his hand on peter’s back, adding on, “it’s been a year already.” “half a year,” peter corrects him in a mumble. he’s liked you for a really long time. “ok, i’m going. wish me luck.” he takes a deep breath and focuses in on you. “aw, dude. you don’t need it.” ned gives him one last pat on the back. “good luck, though.” “thanks, man. see you in trig.”

right as peter starts heading over, harry comes up behind you and covers your eyes. you squeal, jumping up and turning to him, laughing as you playfully hit at his chest. he brings you into a hug where your face is buried in his sweater and probably inhaling his super strong, super expensive cologne.

that’s what’s stopping peter, harry freaking osborn. his own friend.

peter quickly loses the tiny bit of confidence ned gave him. he figures it might be better to hold off on his confession and get an early start to class. unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen. harry has already spotted him and calls him over.

“hey, pete! come give us some love, eh?” harry beams, an arm slung around your shoulders and you smiling up at him. you direct your smile to peter when he slumps his way to your locker. his lips pull into a barely noticeable frown. you notice. “there’s my guy. why so down, sunshine?” harry offers his fist for a fist bump. peter gives it to him, eyes staying on you.

harry osborn. where to begin with such a specimen? he’s the perfect combination of everything you’d want in a guy. he gets good grades, he’s a star player on on the basketball team, nice to everyone and makes you laugh, popular yet fits right into your small group.

he was friends with you before the popular thing. what kicked it off was him making varsity basketball while only being a sophomore. yep, he’s unreal. since then, he’s been balancing his cool life and also hanging with “the nerds,” as he likes to call you. he got his own feelings for you along the way. peter can tell.

he’ll give you rides home, compliment how you look, basically act like your boyfriend without really being it. it absolutely infuriates peter because he doesn’t compare to harry in the slightest. if he were you and had the choice between himself or harry, he would pick harry.

it’s been a factor in why he hasn’t come clean about how he feels yet. he’s not trying to create a love triangle that he doesn’t stand a chance surviving in.

“for real, peter. you good?” you ask him, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “fine,” peter lies and musters up a smile. “i’m just tired. didn’t sleep too good last night.” you’re only more concerned now. this has been happening to him a lot lately. you search for his eyes. “again?”

“aw, man. you need something for it?” harry punches peter’s shoulder and lowers his voice. “i know this kid who-“ “harry, stop.” your words are serious, tone lighthearted. you throw your head back on his arm. “do you really know a kid?” “i’m not telling you,” he says in an overly happy voice, you humming the same way. peter feels like he’s third wheeling.

“i was telling pete.” harry looks at him expectantly, peter’s mouth dropping open while he thinks of what to say. harry likes to mess around. this is a different level, though. “no thanks. i- i shouldn’t. i’m-“ “relax, i don’t know a kid,” harry chuckles and points at peter. “your face right now.” it’s completely flushed. you knock into harry’s side.

“ok, well literally no one laughed. you’re scaring him,” you tell harry sternly. peter tugs tight on one of his backpack straps. he doesn’t feel like he’s third wheeling you two now. he feels like your kid. he’ll never let ned mettle in his love life ever again if this is where it gets him. “he knows i’m kidding, y/n/n. right?” harry checks with peter. you make a face at him that says you aren’t convinced.

he switches his arm from you to peter, drawing him into his side. “look, pete. i’m sorry. the only kid i know who’s selling is chocolates for his band trip.” you’re satisfied with that, grinning at both of them. peter forces a laugh and nods. “no worries, man. i gotta get to class.” “good boy,” harry lets him go. “bye, pete. we’ll see you at lunch,” you remind him. he gives you a tight lipped smile. “see you, y/n/n.”

you and harry continue practically spooning each other as soon as peter is out of sight.

what the hell is going on?

peter is back to being grumpy, plopping down in his seat next to ned. their teacher has the lesson plan pulled up on the smart board. ned looks from it to peter, almost jumping in his seat. “oh, you’re back already? how’d it go?” “it didn’t go,” peter huffs, copying down the aim. he’s only doing it so he doesn’t have to look ned in the eyes while telling him he bailed. again.

“you didn’t do it?” ned repeats, peter writing something about pi and a unit circle in his notebook. he bites the inside of his cheek. “you have to do it at some point,” ned sighs out and picks up his pencil. even he’s getting tired of this, and ned never gets tired of a good friends to lovers moment. “i think she likes harry,” peter says under his breath. “huh?” ned gasps.

peter doesn’t feel like explaining the extremely awkward moment he just finished living. although, it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion. “y/n. he came over, and they kept hugging and whatever.” “they always do that,” ned almost scoffs, their trigonometry teacher moving to stand in front of the class. “yeah, but he had his arm around her the whole time we-“

the bell rings and cuts their conversation short. peter struggles to label the unit circle they learn about when his mind is filled to its capacity with images of you and harry all over each other. it’s not daydreaming. this is a nightmare. maybe, he actually will be having sleep problems.

peter’s morning is relatively decent after that. he gets to do an experiment with mj in chemistry, and she lets him take the lead for once. spanish is easy, health is okay, then he has a free period, then it’s lunch. things can only go downhill from here.

he thinks about hiding in the library until it’s over, but it’s the thought of harry eating your face that gets him to drag himself to the cafeteria.

flash is at the head of your table talking to harry when peter gets there. great, now he can’t eat his soggy chicken fingers in peace. “sounds dope. let’s go on the-“ flash stops saying what he was saying and nods at peter. “penis parker, you’re late.” peter takes his seat on your left, harry on your right. you glance over at him to make sure he’s okay. he acts like he doesn’t care, peeling open his milk carton.

“just text me later, man. get outta here,” harry dismisses flash, the two of them doing a bro handshake before he leaves. he’s well aware of his and peter’s history. he keeps them separate for the obvious reasons. peter appreciates it because saying no to flash is nearly impossible. he shouldn’t be so mad at harry, should he? he’s a good friend.

harry’s arm snakes around your waist and brings you closer to him. never mind.

“who’s up for sushi later?” he asks the table, everyone agreeing and saying how awesome that sounds. everyone except peter. you tap his shoulder with a small smile. “what about you, peter? you coming?” he realizes you’re all waiting for him to respond and puts down his milk. “uh, i can’t. homework,” he lamely answers.

“dude, we have homework, too. just do it a little later,” ned suggests, betty laying her head on his shoulder. you share a look with her, your eyes wide and a grin on your lips. that must have been what you were talking about this morning. she asked for boy advice. ned advice. why can’t this crap work out for peter?

“i really can’t. sorry, guys,” peter half heartedly apologizes.

he misses the disappointment that crosses your features because he’s pouting at his lunch again.

“homework, huh?” mj tests him, squinting as she takes a sip of apple juice. harry nudges peter’s side with two fingers. “you still mad about the sleeping thing?” “sleeping thing? what sleeping thing?” betty wonders while ned rests his head against hers. a quiet laugh slips out of you as you lean in to tell her.

“peter said he couldn’t sleep last night, so harry offered him...” you mime rolling a joint. “i said no,” peter clarifies, rolling his eyes at the inevitable teasing he’s about to get. none of you have even smoked besides harry. you’re being annoying about it. “of course you did,” mj sighs and kicks her feet up on the table. “unrelated to what y/n just said... harry, i have insomnia.”

everyone bursts into laughter at that, betty shoving her side and you pulling harry by his torso as he pretends to go into his backpack. peter wants nothing to do with any of this. he usually enjoys joking around with the group, even if it’s at his expense because it’s from a place of love.

today feels like you’re straight up making fun of him. harry might as well invite flash to join in.

“alright, alright, alright. enough of the weed talk,” harry decides, you removing your arms from him and grabbing your coffee. “you’re such a bad influence.” your voice drips with sarcasm. you bend the straw and take a sip while scooting closer to peter. “you really can’t come later? i feel like i’ve barely seen you today.” that’s on harry. “i wish i could, y/n/n,” peter exhales. “i’ll text you later, okay?”

you don’t get to answer because mj tugs on your arm, distracting you from peter. she explains how she has to do an art project on what it means to be a woman and needs help brainstorming ideas. you’re full of them, offering up an interesting perspective for her to use. peter smiles to himself as he listens in. you find a new way to impress him every day.

he should tell you that.

“hey, y/n?” “listen to her! you’re seriously my idol,” betty gushes, so loudly you don’t hear peter. not a single thing has gone in his favor at this table. he gives up.

peter locks himself in his room when he gets home from his overall terrible day. he does homework like he said he would, only taking a break for dinner, giving one word replies to may’s questions about school. he’d much rather be having sushi with you. he would’ve gone if the others didn’t.

after dinner, it’s back to grumbling and scribbling down answers. there’s a knock at peter’s door around ten o’clock, which he assumes is may saying goodnight. “i’ll be done in a few minutes, may! love you.” “it’s y/n,” you reply, the smile clear in your voice. his eyes go comically wide. that’s the last thing he expected to hear. “oh. uh, come in.”

you’re holding a small takeout bag, shutting the door behind you and walking over to his desk. you meet his twinkling eyes in the dim light that hits off his walls. from his open window, you faintly hear cars as they rush by and honk their horns in the distance, accompanied by a fresh breeze. it’s cozy, safe. it’s peter.

“hey. what’re you doing here?” peter questions, leaving his pencil in his binder and shutting it. you shake around the plastic bag. “i saved you a roll.” he bites back a smile, getting up from his chair. “may let me in. she was really chill about it,” you continue and hold out the sushi for him. “it’s a california roll. i wasn’t sure what you wanted, and everyone likes those.”

peter lets his smile spread out and takes the bag from you. “thanks, y/n/n. i was honestly hoping one of you would have leftovers.” you laugh softly, peter setting the bag down on his desk. he scratches the back of his neck. “did you guys have fun?” “yeah. i missed you, though.” you clasp your hands behind your back. “everyone did.”

“i feel bad i didn’t go. just... things felt off today,” peter admits the real reason he stayed home, you letting out a breath. “it was harry, wasn’t it? god, he was being so weird.” your arms drop back to your sides. “there’s a difference between playing around and actually upsetting people.” by people, you mean peter. no one else seemed too bothered by him. “i’m sorry, peter. i tried to make him stop.”

“no, you don’t have to apologize,” peter assures you sweetly, grabbing one of your hands. “it’s not your fault, okay? he probably didn’t realize what he was doing. the jokes landed.” he’s referring to ned, mj, and betty finding harry’s comments hilarious. you lace your fingers with peter’s and frown. “this isn’t like him. maybe he’s stressed about a game.” your gaze drifts off to the side, what you see getting you to perk up.

“is that new?” you ask peter, leading him by his hand over to a poster he put up recently. it’s for 13 going on 30. you showed it to him a couple of weeks ago, and he clearly liked it a lot. any movie that makes it to peter’s wall is a special one. “mhm. i got it literally right after you went home the night we watched,” he chuckles and looks over at you while you study the poster.

you turn to face peter again, keeping your hand tight in his. “were you gonna tell me something earlier? at lunch?” he’s confused for a second, then he remembers your ideas for mj’s art project. the fact that you cared enough to bring it up after all these hours makes his stomach do summersaults in the best way. he shrugs and gives you a smile.

“the stuff you were saying about femininity and how there are so many ways to define it,” peter starts, you grinning back at him, at how he took an interest in what you were saying. “you’re so smart, y/n. you make me wanna be better.” a light pink dusts his cheeks. “peter, you’re a feminist?” you coo, joking but genuinely wondering at the same time. he squeezes your hand. “duh.”

“i thought so,” you nod, taking in the rest of what he said. “you think i’m smart? i trust you because you’re way smarter.” peter pffts in response. “i’m only good at, like, physics. you’re good at things that really matter. smart in that way.” you’re feeling your own face get hot. you swing yours and peter’s hands back and forth. “why are you the nicest person ever?”

the answer to that, may, peeks her head into the room. “hey, kids. it’s getting late.” she notices your intertwined hands and shoots peter a smirk. “i thought you were a cool aunt,” he teases, you sadly letting go of him. “she is. thanks for having me over so late,” you tell may on your way to the door. “oh, stop it. you can come over any time.” she puts a hand on your arm. “thank you so much,” you murmur back.

you walk backwards to the doorway, may leaving you two to say your goodbyes. “wanna hang out only you and me? on friday maybe?” that should make up for everything earlier. “yeah, of course. friday is perfect,” peter agrees and bounces on his feet as excitement takes over him. “thanks again for the sushi.”

“no problem. goodnight.” it’s taking every last bit of power in you to not freak out. “night. text me when you get home.” he presses his tongue into his cheek. you slowly pull the door shut. “ok, i will. bye!” it closes, leaving peter skipping across his room to his bed on one side and you doing a little happy dance on the other.

the next day at school, everything is back to normal. honestly, better than normal. your hangout with peter is tomorrow, and he’s planning on telling he likes you then. he already talked it over with ned. he’s relieved it’s finally happening, especially since him and betty have their own thing. she’ll be taking up most of his free time from here.

your group is spending lunch outside today, lounging across a picnic table, surrounded by trees and the shining sun in a bright blue sky. mj sits on the table and has her feet on the bench, which would usually bug peter to no end. he doesn’t mind this time because it takes up enough room that harry has to sit with ned and betty instead of you. you lean into peter’s side and stab a piece of lettuce from your salad.

“it’s so nice out,” betty sighs, ripping off half her cookie and giving it to ned. “we should ditch.” “oh my god, you sound like harry,” you groan between bites of salad. peter lets out a breathy laugh, you looping your arm through his. he grins down at where you’re linked. harry crosses his own arms over his chest. “she wishes.” betty only nods because her mouth is full of m&m’s.

“nah, seriously. i’d take us out somewhere, but i have practice after school.” he speaks quieter than he normally does, less confident. your theory about him having basketball drama was right. “what did we tell you? talk about the sports shit with your sports friends,” mj complains, sitting back on her hands. she glances at harry over her shoulder and catches ned mouthing you can’t say that.

sitting criss cross, she spins around to face harry, unenthusiastically saying, “what i meant was, you sound upset. what’s wrong?” harry gets into it right away, like he’s been waiting for someone to ask. “coach says there might be a scout at the next game. it’s a really good opportunity even though i don’t have to worry about... college yet.” the word makes him cringe.

“oh, damn. that’s a big deal. scary,” mj snorts, turning back to you and peter. her behavior makes ned internally face palm. “that’s awesome, dude. you’re gonna play amazing like always.” he gives harry a high five, who smiles nervously in response. he’s never nervous. “thanks, bro. you guys wanna come and watch?” he’s never invited you to one of his games before either.

this isn’t a group of friends that likes to spend their weekends in bleachers while angry teens shout around them.

“definitely. we’ll be there to support you, harry,” betty answers for everyone, ned pecking her cheek in satisfaction. mj cusses to herself before replying. “if i absolutely must, sure.” only you and peter haven’t said anything yet. he’s been chewing his lower lip, and you your salad. harry looks between you two hopefully. it’s more so at you, which peter doesn’t like.

“y/n? pete? it would help a lot, i’m serious.” he taps his fingers on the table until one of you speaks up. you’re the one who does. “i’ll go. this is pretty huge, right? congrats.” you reach across the table and squeeze his shoulder while simultaneously tightening your arm around peter’s. he takes that as a cue. “i’ll go, too. happy for you, man.”

though peter isn’t currently in the best place with harry, he should show his support by showing up. it can’t be too bad since the rest of you will be there.

a loud, long chuckle leaves harry as he hops up from his bench and comes to yours and peter’s. he bends over and wraps both of you in a hug from behind at the same time. his arms are around each of your shoulders, holding you so close his cheeks are squished against either of your heads. you giggle at that, peter finding himself laughing along and reaching back to ruffle harry’s hair.

staying mad at him is one of the world’s greatest challenges.

“you’re saints, both of you. my angels.” he kisses the back of your head, then lays one right on peter’s cheek, leaving him blushing red and grinning. “what about the rest of us? i never go to shit like this,” mj huffs and seems genuinely offended. harry wiggles his eyebrows. “you want a kiss?” his offer gets her flustered, which she can’t manage to hide. that’s a first.

“shut up. i’m just saying... never mind.” mj glares at you and peter, ned and betty making kissing noises behind her. “someone change the subject.” peter steps in. “when’s the game, harry?” he asks, harry snapping and waving his finger. “tomorrow! cancel your plans, kiddos.” “like we had any,” betty retorts.

some of you did. that was going to be peter’s hangout with you.

ned smiles sympathetically at peter before betty is getting his attention. you‘re unfazed and rambling to harry how proud you are of him.

did last night mean nothing? was it an empty gesture? were you only doing it out of guilt? peter must have read your visit wrong. he’s been wrong the whole time he’s liked you. you don’t like him back, you pity him. harry is who you’re really interested in.

may always says he should trust his instincts.

peter pulls his arm from yours suddenly, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders. you’re taken back because it’s so out of no where. you stop talking to harry so you can figure out his deal. “where are you going?” “bell’s gonna ring,” peter mumbles and picks up his lunch tray. he heads to the garbage can without another word or goodbye to anyone.

“i’m gonna go check on him,” you tell harry, already getting up from the bench. “you do that,” he acknowledges and calls mj’s name again.

peter tosses his mostly untouched food in the trash, seeing you make your way over from the corner of his eye. he tries to speed walk inside so he doesn’t have to talk to you. you’re too quick, cornering him between the door and brick wall.

“we still have ten minutes,” you state, worry flashing across your face. he’s avoiding you. well, attempting to. “what’s wrong?” peter gulps before saying anything. “my next class is on the other side of the-“ “no,” you cut him off. “what’s really wrong?”

he doesn’t feel like having this discussion. it’s bad enough he came to the realization his feelings are one sided. must he break that down for you so soon?

you toy with your sleeve while you speak because peter doesn’t. “i thought you and harry were fine again. i mean, he kissed you.” peter clenches his jaw so hard he can imagine the sound of it cracking. “it’s not about harry.” “what, then? what the fuck happened?” your sleeves are now balled in your fists. you hate it when peter does this angsty routine.

he keeps his voice low and calm so he doesn’t come off as jealous or hurt. he’s both of those things. “the game is tomorrow. friday. when we were supposed to hang out.” you meet peter’s eyes with nothing but remorse in yours. “i... i forgot,” is all you have to say.

you feel awful. he’s had a tough couple of days, and you fell through on your promise to cheer him up.

“clearly,” peter remarks, voice sharp. the way you’re looking at him makes him think he won’t like what’s coming. “peter, we have to go,” you almost whine. “i’m really sorry, i am, but this is a big night for harry. he needs us there.” peter stays silent. you’re twisting the knife deeper into him with every word. “i wouldn’t be cancelling if this wasn’t important.”

now you’re cancelling?

you reach for peter’s hand, but he shoves it into his pocket. that stings for you and him. “please, peter. we’ll hang out at the game, i swear.” this is the last chance you’ve got, so you pile it on. “harry won’t even be there, technically. he’ll... he’ll be on the court.” peter hadn’t thought about that. he lets himself unclench, starting to see the appeal. you add one more thing to lighten the mood and persuade him.

“i’ll buy you popcorn, all you can eat.” it’s that easy. cracking a smile, peter accepts. he’ll deal with his unresolved, unreciprocated feelings after he stuffs his face, courtesy of you. “you better. i’m gonna need it for this long ass game.” your face lights up, grabbing his wrist in both hands.

“so, you’ll come?” “i’ll be there,” he confirms. you throw your arms around his neck. he laughs into the hug and holds you by your middle. “i promise this’ll be the first and last game we ever go to,” you say and mean it. harry is lucky you’re even suffering through this a first time. “thank god,” peter exhales, resting his chin on your head.

that interaction leaves peter confused as hell. you’re crushing his mind and soul one minute, then hugging him the next. you were making him feel so special lasts night, and treating harry the same way today. it’s so jumbled that he isn’t sure if he’s in the friend zone or something more zone.

there are a ton of mixed signals coming his way, and he sucks at reading people as is.

he can’t take another second of this. he’d rather you come out and say you like harry already because it’s torture. knowing you don’t want him in that way would at least eliminate the possibility of anything happening between you two, and allow him to stop driving himself insane.

he’d be able to stop taking it out on harry, too.

the hold you have on peter, that you’re oblivious to, rules his every thought and decision. he’s constantly analyzing what you say to him, debating whether or not your affection is simply platonic. it’s been half a year of this madness, the night of harry’s game blurring every line so much more.

your group arrives a bit early to find seats and hype harry up before he plays. peter gets there after all of you because he’s not exactly in a rush to watch sweaty guys be aggressive. there’s only one upside, which is spending the night with you... and everyone else.

he steps into the gym that’s filling up fast with family members, friends, and the college scout harry was talking about. midtown has a different feeling to it at night. the smell of pencils is oddly stronger, and it’s a lot less intimidating.

cheerleaders are huddled in a circle while the team supervisor has them run their chants. the “leading official,” who peter thought was called a referee, takes his place off to the side. coaches give their players last minute instructions, players fool around with each other, a lot is going on.

peter scans the room for you, and grins a toothy grin when you catch his eyes. you’re sitting by yourself in one of the middle bleachers, only a bag of skinny pop in your lap. you return the smile once you spot him and wave him over.

“i don’t know why, but i thought they’d have an actual concession stand,” you explain the lack of fresh, buttery popcorn as peter takes a seat next to you. he catches the prepackaged bag you toss him. “it’s just a snack table.” “works either way,” peter hums and pokes the bag. “i’m not sure skinny pop is all i can eat, though.” “it’s good!” you defend the snack you chose for him.

“i’m kidding! you’re right, it’s kind of addicting.” he puts it by his feet for now and gives you a half smile. “you’re welcome,” you deadpan in a playful tone. “thanks.” he narrows his eyes. “where’s everyone else?” “right,” you twist around and gesture to the bleacher above you. mj is gloomily seated near the back. ned and betty are a few behind you.

“i told them to find their own seats so we can sit together, alone.” you look over at peter and move ever so slightly closer. “welcome to our friday hangout. just the two of us.” “aw, you didn’t have to do that,” peter laughs out, his knee bumping yours. “but, i’m happy you did.” he goes to put an arm around you, then harry comes racing up the stairs.

just the two of you didn’t last so long.

“y/n, i’m freaking out,” harry announces, zooming through your row to get over to you. he stops once he’s standing in front of peter and shakes him by his shoulder. “hey, pete. you made it.” “yup,” peter replies, pressing his lips together. you wince at his reaction, then quirk an eyebrow at harry. “you’re freaking out? why?”

harry sits down between you and peter, blissfully unaware of the moment he interrupted.

“i found the scout. he’s fucking terrifying as fuck. this super ripped guy, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else,” he talks quietly, like the man will hear him. “he’s not the only one,” peter says to himself, kicking around his bag of popcorn to pass time. you ignore him and grimace.

“shit. wait, how do you know it’s him? did they tell you?” you’re not sure how these things go. harry casually shrugs a shoulder. “dude has a clipboard. seems legit to me.” he gives you a cocky smile. “he’s also in the row before mj. that’s how i noticed. um...” his back now facing peter, he whispers something in your ear that makes you giggle.

peter’s face scrunches up as the spark of anger the past few days have lit reignites itself.

when harry pulls away, you motion for him to come closer with your index finger, cupping your hand around his ear and speaking into it.

nope, no more. peter is entirely about to explode. you cancelled your plans so you can force him to watch basketball, you sweet talk him so he’ll let it go, and you’re running right back to harry after all of that? what the hell does that mean?

peter stands up from his seat. “y/n, we need to talk,” he demands, you moving away from harry to respond. “ok, gimme a minute. we’re-“ “no, we need to talk now.” you don’t have time to refute because he’s taking your arm and dragging you away. harry squints at you in utter confusion.

“um, have a good game! we’ll talk later,” you call back to him, walking with peter even though you have no idea what his issue is and aren’t a fan of how he’s acting.

he releases you once you’re in the hallway. you make a point of harshly yanking your arm back, a scowl painting your lips. “jesus, peter. i was having a conversation.” “do you like harry?” peter blurts out. you’re so shocked at his abruptness that you don’t give him much to work with, only, “what?” “do you like harry?” he asks you again, this time less accusing and more curious.

“do i like...” you’re too aware of the seemingly hundreds of people surrounding you to answer comfortably. “can we talk about this somewhere else?” “sure,” peter nods, letting you lead the way since he did to get out here. you two go down the hall and choose the first room you see, which happens to be the custodian’s closet. it’s thankfully unlocked.

things were tense between you and peter on the way over, and it’s physically mirrored when you step into the room, air thick and smelling of lemon cleaning supplies. you tug on the string hanging down to turn on the light. it casts a faded glow, leaving you in mostly darkness. you sort of like it. this feels more intimate, which is fitting for what you’re both about to say.

neither one of you knows where to begin. peter’s question is ringing in the back of your mind, and you could touch on that, but there’s more to it than a simple yes or no. you don’t have to worry about it because peter gets his words out first.

“i think harry likes you, and i think you like him back,” peter restarts, already sounding deflated by what he came up with. “he doesn’t, and i don’t.” you take a step towards him. “he likes mj.” it’s peter’s turn to be shocked. the hint of a smile sets on your lips. “that’s what we were talking about. harry asked if he should take her to dinner after the game, and i said yes.”

this is going better than he expected.

“mj is the one who likes him, not me,” you reiterate and watch some life enter peter again, a tiny bit. he’s coming around, and he wants to believe you. his trust issues don’t. “but, you’re so... touchy with each other. the hugging the other day?” he mentions. you tilt your head to the side in amusement. “friends can’t hug?”

to be fair, you hugged peter yesterday. that’s a point rightfully shut down.

“he calls you pretty,” peter tries, raising both eyebrows. you have to laugh at this one. “you call may pretty.”

obviously, peter’s analysis skills could use some serious improvements. it sounds like he had the right idea, wrong person. your relationship with harry is platonic. hell, he’s crushing on a whole different person. this actually opens up the possibility of you liking peter in the romantic way, of him being in the something more zone. he had it backwards.

in case peter isn’t convinced yet, and because you really want to, you use one more trick to prove to him you don’t like harry.

“do me and harry do this?” your lips speak for you, colliding with peter’s unexpectedly yet easily. he feels like he’s floating, like he’s in some sort of magical wonderland until it hits him that this is real, and he should probably kiss you back. he does so softly and tangles his fingers in your locks. his hand supports the back of your head as the kiss goes on.

you push forward so your bodies are almost fused together, the closest you can be while you hold his jaw. peter breaks the kiss for a short breather, going back in without more than a moment passing. this one is feverish, his free arm looping around your lower back, hand resting on the small of it. you let out a giggle against his swollen lips and stroke your thumb over his jawline.

he’s been waiting to do this for the longest time, but he doesn’t have to tell you that. it shows in how eager he was to reciprocate, his shyness blossoming into passion. you feel yourself melting under his touch, the kiss eventually becoming a series of short pecks. peter gives you the final one. his pink lips form a grin when you pull apart. your hands stay on each other, not in a rush to go anywhere.

“woah, i like you so much,” peter laughs out. the words roll off his tongue naturally. “you know i like you,” you drawl, smiling at him, a full body smile while you caress his skin. he winds both arms around you and dips his head down to steal another kiss. you’re loving what’s happening. however, you don’t feel like making out while dirty brooms stare at you. you should take this back home.

“wanna get out of here? i do,” you suggest, voice muffled from his lips. they detach from yours and brush your cheek gently. peter makes a funny face. “hm, i thought we had to come. harry needs us,” he says what you did yesterday, earning a groan back. “you’re joking.” “i’m not. what kind of friends would we be, ditching him like that?”

he’s going to end you one day.

“yeah, no. i have no idea how basketball works, and i’d like to keep it that way,” peter drops the act, pressing his fingers into your sides. “i’ve been so mean to harry. i was...” “a dick?” you finish for him. it’s more of a statement than a question. to soften the blow, you rub his cheek with the tips of your fingers. “yup. he’s gonna think i hate him or something if we don’t stay.” his formerly smiley face is frowning.

“harry of all people will understand after we tell him our reasons,” you reassure him, nudging under his chin with your nose. “besides, he has other things to worry about. mj, the scout. it’s fine.” peter considers it, ultimately giving in to you like he always does, resting his forehead on yours. “i guess so. less distractions for him, yeah.” “exactly. that’s what i wanna hear.”

having his approval, you unwind yourself from him and head to the door. his fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “what about my popcorn?” a giggle escapes your lips. “you’re still on that?” “you said all i can eat!” his voice comes out high pitched, adorably high pitched.

“fine. i might have those bags you put in the microwave.” you smile when his fingers lock with yours, peter kissing the side of your head.

“even better. let’s go home.”

[sushigal007]

The Snowmen! I have been at the pub all evening for carols and mulled wine and mince pies and I am not entorely sober so spelling will be super fun.

Sner! Angry snerflakes. Victorian aesthetic again YES. Child does not like other children and his snowman agrees. Somehow this is not ebcause I am drunk. Child but older, still angry snowmens.

Oh, the subtitles are a spoiler, glad I didn't have them on in 2012.

Dr Simeon is feeding the poors to the snow.

Clara works at the Rose and Crown! There is a snowman outside her pub. Eleven walks past in a right pissy mood and tells her it wasn't him. It just appeared. She starts to follow him, but he's not interested. Sooo she does a runner after him.

Inside his Strax-drawn carriage, Vastra chats to him from a Victorian intercom, which is when Clara spokes her head through the roof and asks Doctor Who.

Roll credits!

There is a frozen pond where a woman died. Dr Simeon does some ominous talk about it that I am too tipsy to follow. Then Jenny appears! And Vastra! Simeon says that Sherlock is is almost definitely based on them. They tell him they're married.

The ice remembers stuff. Vastra hopes it's learning from the right people. Jenny mopes that the Doctor doesn't help people any more. Except he is investigating and Strax is very eager to get grenades involved, good for him. In the background, Clara yells.

The Doctor explains that genders confuse Strax. Clara is going to forget because of the worm except there is a problem with the worm and that problem is Strax, who didn't use his gauntlets. It is very hilarious, possibly because I am not sober.

Clara asks about the snowmen and because the snow is kinda psychic, they start appearing, until the Doctor tells her to imagine them melting, Merry Christmas.

Clara follows the Doctor to an invisible ladder. It turns into an invisible staircase. TARDIS is in the clouds!

To Simeon! He talks to a snowglobe. I ignore the spoilery subtitles that tell us the name of the snow.

Clara heads off to work and changes into a demure governess outfit. The father of the house holds a card that says GI. I continue to ignore the spoiler text. She goes out to see the children. One of them is called Digby and I like to pretend he's the Uncle Digby from the last special. Anyway, he hated the old governess who died in the pond. The children have nightmares about her.

Clara tries to find the invisible ladder again. Jenny intervenes and takes her to Vastra. Clara is weirded out. She is allowed to answer in one word answers . Somehow she manages. Vastra explains that the Doctor kinda stays alone and asks why he should help. The TARDIS phone rings. Clara's answer was Pond.

Sherlock Holmes wandders off to see Dr Simeon and his giant snowglobe. The snow says it's the Intelligence and I originally did not get it, probably because I did not have the spoiler subtitles on. The Doctor reasons that the snow needs human DNA in ice form. Like the old, frozen governess in the pond.

The Doctor goes off to check out the pond and Strax wishes to get grenades involved. Don't we all. Clara spots him and he wanders off just as the ice starts doing stuff.

Strax wants to play with acid. Don't we all.

Clara makes up shit to amuse the children. She tells them the Doctor is around but oops, it's the old governess made of ice. But the Doctor is there, hiding in the Punch and Judy set, which is probably only a scene that made sense to Brits. He sonics the ice governess anyway, but only temporarily.

Then Jenny, Vastra and Strax show up to freak out the staff. Strax suggests grenades before explaining their military tactics.

There is a random snog what?

Dr Simeon shows up. As does my child, hangry, am I distracted as they talk to me about Matt Smith and Spider-man. I have not seen the new Spider-man yet though so no spoilers pls.

Anyway ice governess turns into snow. Clara grabs the invisible ladder and snarks at her. They lure her away from the snow. Clara grumps at the Doctor as he sulks off into the TARDIS, then he smirks as she states that it's... smaller on the outside. Eh. close enough.

And then she mentions souffles. The Doctor has a wait, what? moment. And gives her a key. He is very excited! But the the ice governess grabs her and they both fall out of the TARDIS and die, oops. Well, not just yet, and the Doctor refuses to accept it and invites her to travel with him instead. Merry Christmas.

He heads outside to face Dr Simeon and his snowmen with a piece of the ice lady in a box featuring a map of the London Underground, 1967, which is when I start to really sit up and pay attention. Have I ever mentioned that my absolute number one favourite story of all time is The Web Of Fear? Because it is. Back in 1989, when I was a wee Sushi of less than ten years old, my mother gave me a Doctor Who omnibus book containing this story, which I had never seen before, because back then, I knew nothing of the First and Second Doctors because so much of their eras had been wiped, TV reruns generally started at the Third Doctor. So I read that story and was hooked at once. I went and asked mum why I'd never seen it before, which was when I found out about the missing epsidoes and ruined my life forever. And then in 2013, Philip Morris found four more episodes and it was the best day of my life also kids, never follows your heros on Twitter lest they turn out to be Brexity NMDs.

ANYWAY. The snowglobe wants to learn to take human form. The Doctor sonics it and finds out it has Simeon's voice because it's been copying him since he was a child. Dr Simeon grabs the box but oops, inside is that memory worm! And if Simeon has no memory, the snow can't leech off him!

...In theory. In reality, the snow says a big fuck you to the Doctor and all the snowmen come to life. The worm erased pretty much all of Simeon and the snow has taken over, oops!

Back to Clara. She's dying. She tells the children's father to take care of his children now because she kinda can't.

Simeon dies. The Doctor says the snow mirrors and it's mirroring something else now. Tears, to be exact. Because Clara is dying, aww. She tells him to run and remember him.

Funeral time. The Intelligence has melted in the snow and the Doctor is concerned, but Jenny says they can't be that scared of a disembodied intelligence, Vaxtra says especially not one that thinsk the underground is key strategic weakness, and the Doctor whips out one of Simeons GI business cards and realises that stands for Great Intelligence and I do a happy, wiggly little squeal of nerd joy.

The Doctor approaches the gravestone and realises Clara is Oswin from the Dalek Asylum. He does his own little dance of nerd joy and heads off to find her again.

In the future, we see modern Clara pass her Victorian gravestone.

FINAL THOUGHTS

OK, not as Christmassy as the last two at all, and if The Web Of Fear was not quite literally my favourite episode of all time, I probably wouldn't care all that much about this one. But The Web Of Fear IS literally my favourite episode of all time, and so my whole brain is all "OMG it's the Great Intelligence OMG the Intelligence is back holy shit!!!" Especially because when this aired, only episode one existed. We wouldn't get episodes 2, 4, 5 and 6 until almost a year later. And so for this reason alone, this episode holds a very special place in my heart. Jenny and Vastra are lovely and it's great to see their relationship as wife and wife made canon. Strax is hilarious, as always. Clara is fairly fun, up until she dies, but at the end of the day, the most important fact is that tiny baby Sushi waited 23 years to see her favourite ever monster back onscreen in a complete story and never even saw it coming, and that's why Christmas is magic.

[vaguely-concerned]

Mass Effect: Annihilation thoughts

TL;DR I fucking LOVED IT, a balm to my heart after struggling through Nexus Uprising! Also canonical lesbians! The sweetest quarian & his badass grandma! Elcor Hamlet except this time it’ll make you cry!!! 

- Aaaaaah the audiobook reader is Tom Taylorson (so male Ryder)!! Fryda Wolf (female Ryder) read the two others and did a nice job, but man I’m soft for his voice in a way only rivaled by (...outside-of-Overwatch!)Jennifer Hale and Nicholas Boulton haha. He also has a much better handle on the pronunciations and voices for the different alien species -- delightful, I’m still cackling over his pitch perfect elcor impersonation. (Bioware please give him more Scott Ryder to voice I miss my son)

- I’m only about half an hour in and this is already SO much better than Nexus Uprising, it really does feel like a brave new galaxy haha. Very funny, very warm and smart and engaging in how it does its characterization and Valente clearly has affection for the setting and the universe, she and Jemisin both do incredible jobs with these. 

- I’m fucking crying laughing at this cross-species near-brawl over a flower arrangement, god I love Mass Effect SO MUCH (what a neat idea though. something blooming quietly even when no one can see it. impractical as hell and hilariously including a high-nutrition celery now, but still neat)

Taylorson continues to wonderful things with the voices, that volus suit sound is so good. (he’s just generally really good at comedy) also a volus bellowing insults ‘moments before punching an anti-bouquet batarian in the groin’ sdafhjklsahfsjadkhfklajshdfkjlsadhf

- a high as a kite elcor... what a time to be alive, to get to read this book

I have already reached the ‘I LOVE EVERYONE IN THIS BAR’ stage with these characters, hard boiled drell detective lady and sweet sweet quarian first officer and manically enthusiastic elcor doctor TOT I would die for any one of you!!!

- The quarian/multispecies ark was built for long-term habitation, potentially over multiple generations. So what you’re telling me is that the quarians are the only ones who fucking thought this through and the rest of the Initiative probably should have listened to the people who’ve essentially been living on arks for ages. Who’d’ve thunk huh lol. (I guess the in-universe explanation is that people like the mysterious benefactor just wanted those arks yeeted to Andromeda ASAP, no time to get fancy in case the Reapers changed up their schedule. Fair enough)

- ;n; petition to let senna have a SAM pls (also uh. how happy do you think the stringently anti-AI quarian pathfinder will be when he finds out about everyone else’s SAMs lol lol lol he’s going to PASS OUT FROM RAGE upon meeting ryder. well he sounds like an asshole, I hope he dies so senna gets a chance)  

- I can’t BELIEVE yorrik is an anti-stratfordianist, i am betRAYED! disgraceful, how can I still love you knowing this (and yet I do he is extremely funny and sweet)!!! (at least his theory is that this so-called ‘shakespeare’ was actually an elcor, which makes it better somehow lol. anything so long as he’s not an oxfordian tbh)

senna and yorrik’s friendship is so good and wholesome 

- I really love the consistent alien POVs in this book, mass effect should indulge in this more -- everyone loves this universe so much, bioware, stop making us squint through a human lense to look at it!!  

- oh of course quarian ‘pirates’ exist, the people who’re thrown out of the fleet must be doing something huh. 

- haven’t written that many notes in a while just because I’m enjoying myself so much, I keep forgetting 

- lfsdkhfsajkldhfskadjhfsjakdfhsdkjfh communist volus!!!! this is not a drill, communist volus! I am completely and utterly charmed by this entire book

- the quarian ancestor VI is so interesting and weirdly touching. senna is adorable (and relatably neurotic lol)

grandma AI smoking T___________T I love everything about this, she’s so cool. the worldbuilding being done around pre-geth revolution rannoch here... exquisite 

- way to make me cry about batarians cat valente ;_______;

- the voice acting is SO FUCKING GOOD! I keep forgetting it’s one dude reading all these characters haha, I caught myself wanting to look up who voiced this dying batarian. (special shoutout that he does so many wonderfully distinct and specific female voices!) 

- haHA I KNEW the quarian VI was a full AI (or near enough that it makes little difference tbh)!!! this fabulous grandma was self aware the entire time b i t c h e s !!!!

- the running joke of borbala’s ‘you need ______? I can make _______ happen’ is SO satisfying hahaha

ooooooh serious femslash vibes!!!! initially I thought batarian ex-crime matriarch was too old for drell PI, but this is undeniable. (I don’t think we actually ever get to know how old annex is, anyway, come to think of it) I guess if asari get to be five times older than everyone else and still fuck freely this isn’t really that weird lol

- “don’t look! it’s not so bad if you don’t look!” ofhsdalfhskldlsfjas oh senna baby boy 

hey qetsi? qetsi both senna and I love grandma liat more than you. stand the fuck down 

- NOOOO GRANDMA LIAT ;______________________________________;

- do you think SAM could meet liat (either ship!liat or just grandma!liat).... and have... a friend ;_________; (a cool laidback friend who isn’t a murderous angaran ai who might very well go the murder suicide sort of friendship route lol) 

anyway I miss SAM a lot and love him??

- yorrik noooooooooooo this is awful everything is bad and terrible I love all of them so much why must senna be sad and watch everything he loves fade away 😭😭😭

“Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood/Clean from my hand?” He realized he’d forgotten to preface the words with an emotion. Now they wouldn’t understand what he meant.

Oh. Oh what a way to drive home the sadness and loneliness of this moment f u c k  (and again the emotion taylorson brings to it jesus cHRIST) 

I’m destroyed over how much senna and yorrik love each other, cross species found family out here wrecking my heart in true mass effect style 

- yorrik is such a great character though. he’d be so easy to make a one-note joke character (like most elcor have been in canon lbr), but there’s nuance and depth and just enough satsifyingly believable alienness there. (I love the staunch elcor ‘you can’t call anything love that hasn’t lasted at least two centuries’ perspective haha) his memories of his childhood and disappointment with his profession and everything... goodnight sweet prince indeed :(

- they went and made elcor hamlet heartbreaking how dare they 

(to be real for a second I think some of the human culture references are a little bit clunky, but the elcor hamlet stuff is perfect. contextualizing a throwaway joke from the original trilogy and giving it emotional depth, helping us see it from the elcor perspective and how frustrating and lonely it is to be so fundamentally not emotionally understood or seen on a level most of the other races are, despite their other differences, even though you have all these feelings and want to communicate... its very good.)   

fun additional fact: both mordin and yorrik have played/wanted to play polonius in a production of hamlet! though I guess mordin is the slightly problematic fave in that duo and yorrik is a sweet melancholic angel who has never done anything wrong in his life, I would say protect him but I guess it’s too late for that D:  

- qetsi giving off some real ophelia vibes here, I wish yorrik was here to see it, he’s the only one who’d properly appreciate it despite it all

- I. am. SO FUCKING HUNGRY for more mass effect after this (well even more so than usual) I’m so hyped!! I love this universe so much! I want a new andromeda game with senna as quarian pathfinder and grandma liat as the ship’s AI and see how they interact with ryder and SAM! (honestly though I feel like senna might be the one who’d translate the most cleanly into a game, I think there’s a lot of potential in him that’s barely being realized towards the end there with his deep righteous rage cutting through his uncertainty. also I just want nice things for him. is that so much to ask. he is a good boy, yorrik was so right.)

- aaaah not just femslash vibes, canonical lesbians, this is not a drill! I can’t wait until they propose... ‘we get shit done together, want to be in good cop/bad cop with me until the day we die y/n?’  

- the ME universe doesn’t feel quite itself without all these ‘background’ species hanging around, I suddenly realize. I dream of an Andromeda sequel with all of them on the board and in play again Y-------Y 

- potential Liat and SAM dynamics are so fucking interesting though! if she becomes/is confirmed as a full AI (all I hope and dream of), you’ll have two artificial intelligences with such different starting points but not that dissimilar goals? Liat was an organic person once who’s looking out for her family even now, and SAM is completely artificial but also intimately tied to and protecting His People. (and pulling a whole lot of symbolic weight re: the strength of familial/interpersonal relationships to boot; he’s the best way alec ryder managed to connect with his children. even though he was dead. because as established alec ryder was a disaster of a person)  

- I enjoyed the loose murder mystery structure of this quite a lot, but that might also be because nexus uprising is so shapeless and meandering by comparison that I’d be relieved by anything else (sorry I’ll stop ragging on NU soon it just. took some hours of my life I can’t get back)  

- jemisin did great stuff for characters already in andromeda (cora, SAM, alec ryder) and valente made me remember just why I love this universe so much and desperately want these aspects brought to andromeda too... and now I’ve exhausted all the fresh mass effect content I had available to me and will sit here consumed with lust for the rest of the time it takes for a new game to be announced thank you and goodbye  

[keycoro]

hello angels!! i’m rocky and i’m sooo excited to plot/write with yas. this is joaquin but everyone calls him key so i’ll usually address him as that!

[ arón piper, male, twenty two ] it looks like JOAQUIN “KEY” CORONA is late to class once again . how do they expect to get their degree in ARCHITECTURE by skipping class ? it’s a wonder that they made it to their SENIOR year . then again , i heard that they were + SPONTANEOUS which may give them a pass with professors , but they are also - ENIGMATIC so maybe not . all i know is that they remind me of BLOODY KNUCKLES, SHOTS WITHOUT CHASERS, AND GOLD CHAINS so watch out . oh look , HE just walked in !

intangible, enigmatic, hellraiser, rebellious, the spontaneous insurgent, easier to be an asshole than to come to terms with any of his feelings, a playboy. secret soft. everyone thinks they know him but he only shows what he wants. it’s easier like that.

he’s bisexual but closeted

key comes from a really wealthy family 

he has two older sisters but doesn’t get along with them because they’re really different from him

basically luna and emilia are more like their mother; they care more about being powerful and influential and put less emphasis on familial connections

he was really close with his father but his father died three years earlier so he’s kind of on this path of raising hell but anyone who knew him in his freshman year knew him as a different person

he’s always been a little mysterious, always been the charismatic type, kind of a player but was never closed off to making new relationships which is where he’s at right now

he has issues with his mom because his mother sees him as his father

his father, santino, was really all over the place tbh and he was a journalist so he was always traveling but he was very fun-loving, very charming, and didn’t ever stress the importance of one kind of path for life

but more about key........

he is the president of sigma psi pi, probably the type to throw you out of the party if you touch the person he likes 

always has goodies for the party /if u know what i mean/

whispers hes a drug dealer

he is top 5 most likely to start a fight

he is usually in the mood for a fight but will also have his really quiet moments where you’re like .......is there still a soul in ur body bro

very very broody

i will continue to flesh him out more but main takeaways:

broody

just wants a hug

will ash his blunt on your opinion

“dont touch me”

*stares intensely*

“no im not crying why dONT YOU JUST LIKE MIND YOUR BUSINESS OR SOMETHING”

“i dont usually share my poptarts but i dont like when people cry while in the same vicinity so please take this and stop doing that”

partying without shirt because he can

i didnt steal ur bitch bc i dont want to keep ur bitch

pls hug me

also he doesnt think chris did it and will stand by this even though i dont think he has much to back up this idea

connections!!!

ride or die bihhhh

fwb

we’re homies and we tell each other things that most people have to beg for us to tell them also when you’re too drunk so i take you home also when we’re both really drunk we fuck but i bring u home after and it aint even that serious and if anyone wants to fight u send them my way

best friends fuhevaaaa

enemies!!! because key wants all the static

enemies or misunderstood one another turned homies

party friends that just get really messed up together

ex gf, he cheated

i will just keep making fun of you because i hate you

other exes

the boy he likes????

someone he had a pregnancy scare with??? they grew apart after and never dealt with it???? i need this

guy he hooked up with and is like omg u make me question everything and now i’m trying to avoid u but i keep staring

unrequited or they think its unrequited

his ex’s best friend that he hooked up with idk

somebody who knew his dad???

teammates/work out buddies bc soccer

enemies but only because assumptions they’ve made about one another but now a creepy guy is hitting on you so im going to pretend im your boyfriend

they’re not really friends but get put into a situation where they realize they have more in common than they thought or are kinda friends but neither really ever want to admit it???

secret friends or secret lovers

we’re stuck in this elevator i guess we should talk about our life stories

omg i had sex with your sibling and you saw me naked that one time accidentally this is awkward

our exes are on a date so lets go on a date??? and/or help me make this person jealous

his little

in the same frat but hate each other

we go on adventures together

childhood friends

we both hate that person

key will protect at all costs

you’re the opposite of me and yet here we are

someone who is genuinely good for him like so wholesome and makes him do sweet lil things unintentionally

LETS PLOT :’) honestly if you have any ideas or anything please feel free to message me or like this because fuck yeah 

[terapsina]

42 pls

42. “I’m only here to establish an alibi.” for River/13.

—-ao3—-

“What do you think?” Ryan asks Yaz as she’s placing another armful of every shiny, reflective object she could get her hands on in a circle around what looks like a jury rigged mess of Christmas lights.

“I don’t know, you’re the expert here.” Yaz tells him and looks on as he’s screwing in the last green light bulb into place. If they were in an apartment on Earth she’d say that what it looks like is an invitation for a blown out sparking plug. But where they are, is inside the control room of the TARDIS so it is probably fine.

“I’m a mechanic… -ish. I know how to fix cars not how to make tribble traps.” Ryan says.

“It looks fine, Ryan.” Yaz assures him. And it does. It looks exactly like the Doctor said it should before she and Graham went off to bring the alien balls of chaos back to the TARDIS to be trapped.

They aren’t of course actually called tribbles. But the word the Doctor used for them involved a lot of X’s and Y’s so when Graham named them after the Star Trek creatures, Yaz and Ryan went with it. They do look like tribbles even if what they act like are ping pong balls from hell.

Apparently they’re some kind of pets. Unfortunately they’re not native to this particular planet so when they all first stepped out to see some kind of - apparently very cool - jewel festival, it was already utter chaos.

It’s as Yaz is wondering for the dozenth time about how exactly a dizzying number of the things even got there then, that the doors to the TARDIS smash inwards and a woman strides in, looking like she owns the place.

“Don’t mind me. Carry on!” The woman says, dropping a bag of something heavy that sounds like a bag of rocks to the floor and hurrying towards the TARDIS controls. “I’m only here to establish an alibi. A short hop over to the other side of the hemisphere and some 38 planetary hours in the past should do it. I’ll send you lot right back to him none the wiser. It’ll be our little secret.”

“Alibi?” Yaz says, immediately focusing on what feels like the most relevant part.

They were trained for this in the academy, learning to note down all identifying features even before the mind has time to fully catch up with whatever unexpected thing has just occurred. So she doesn’t let herself flounder and just observes everything.

Human or human-like; Caucasian; extremely curly, blonde or light brown hair; maybe 5.6 foot tall; anywhere from mid-forties to mid-fifties; attractive; Southern English accent.

‘And trouble.’ Yaz adds to herself when the woman starts working the TARDIS controls - very expertly, - before either Yaz or Ryan can do more than get up to their feet in surprise.

They exchange a concerned look and abandon their project.

“Wait, stop!” they both yell, only halfway to the intruder as she pulls the lever that always precedes the TARDIS taking off.

The lever jams halfway down and the control room whines with an almost stubborn sort of noise. Yaz and Ryan share a relieved breath.

“Oh thank god.” Ryan says.

“Well, that’s strange. Did the old man forget to oil your controls?” The woman says and tries the lever again. This time the answering noise is much louder and gets followed by a shudder that knocks them all off their feet.

“Whatever has gotten into you, my dear?” The mysterious woman asks to the air above her the same way the Doctor sometimes does when she’s talking to the TARDIS.

As if summoned by Yaz’s thought the doors to the ship slam open again, this time letting in the Doctor and Graham.

And a great number of tribbles. They’re acting much calmer than they did last time Yaz saw them, only jumping up to around the height of the Doctor’s knees. She can actually kinda see now how someone could look at them as cute pets.

Graham stops in his tracks when he sees their unexpected guest but the Doctor is walking in backwards and waving around her sonic screwdriver, which is presumably why the little critters are very calmly acting out a scene from Pied Piper.

“Doctor?” Ryan says uncertainly from beside her. “I think someone just came in to steal the TARDIS.”

“Don’t be silly, Ryan. Sexy wouldn’t let anyone steal her. Well except maybe for…” the Doctor says, finally turning around but then falls silent as soon as she’s facing them “River.”

The Doctor looks like all the air has been knocked out of her, Yaz hasn’t seen a look like it since their little vacuum adventure and even that had been a purely physical reaction. This time her eyes are almost screaming with the painful mix of grief and something that looks a whole hell of a lot like hope.

“Well now, that’s a new look for you Sweetie.” The woman who must be River says with a sudden and delighted grin. “I like it.”

“River?” The Doctor repeats.

“Though ‘steal’ is such a strong word.” River says lightly and pantomimes the motion of cleaning invisible lint off her clothing.

The Doctor repeat’s the name for a third time, her voice breaking on the last syllable when River finally seems to take in the Doctor’s poleaxed complexion and gets back to her feet to walk around the controls towards her.

“What is it, my love?” River asks, and because she’s still mostly facing them Yaz can see as the transformation takes over the woman’s face. There was something very blase about how she seemed just a moment before but now her eyebrows have drawn in concern, and something fiercely protective is blooming in the lines of her face.

The Doctor doesn’t wait for River to reach her, in a moment she’s dropped the sonic and is colliding with her in a tangle of limbs that take a moment to sort themselves out.

And then Yaz has to look away because there is just something undoubtedly very private about the moment taking place in front of them all.

She still can’t help but catch an impression of a desperate kiss and the Doctor pulling the woman so close to her that Yaz thinks letting go of this River would tear the Doctor to pieces.

Maybe because it already had.

The Doctor hadn’t really told them all that much more about the family she’s lost but it doesn’t take much to guess that River was a part of it.

She’s wiping a tear away from the corner of her eye when Ryan leaves her side to join Graham. Her eyes follow and her heart twists at the pained look on her friend’s face. In front of them is taking place a scene that almost certainly brings back every memory Graham has of Grace.

She takes a step to join Ryan when her eyes catch on the tribbles.

Their bouncing is already reaching past their heads and some of them are almost vibrating with energy. Her eyes widen and she twists around toward the project the Doctor gave them to complete.

It’s still not turned on.

“Ryan! How do I turn on the trap?” Yaz yells and then has to turn around again at the sound of tripping and Ryan’s yelp of pain.

By the time she’s facing him, he’s on the ground and the floor around him is covered in jewels, the bag River dropped to the floor when she came in now empty.

“River Song. You didn’t!” The Doctor exclaims and though Yaz guesses she’s trying to sound exasperated it sounds suspiciously delighted instead.

Yaz narrows her eyes when River throws back her head in laughter.

She’s pretty sure she knows how the tribbles got to the planet now. And she was right too. River Song is definitely trouble.

[pies-writes-and-more]

Get To Know Me

I was tagged by the lovely @angryteapot​ !

Username:  pies-wands-and-more

Reason for username: lol my username is so weird - I’m always thinking about changing it. Pies = Supernatural, Wands = Harry Potter, More = Avengers, Sherlock, Merlin, Criminal Minds, Disney etc. the blog is for my fandom shit so I tried to find a name to suit it :) 

Gender:  Female Warrior

Marital status:  Not married but i’ve been in a relationship for 3 years :)

Job:  Currently in a co-op job as an office admin/event coordinator but normally I’m a student 

Number of family members:  In my immediate family, I’ve got 4 ppl. Too many i dont care about in my extended family soooo 

Fun or obscure fact so we can make sure you’re not a Skrull:  I have very little hair on my arms and legs so i’ve got pretty smooth skin and i never shave/wax - makes for weird moments with my friends when theyre just stroking my arms LOL 

Favorite pastime:  have yet to discover something i completely love, so if you have any suggestions lmk!

Hobbies: Writing, singing, watching netflix, makeup, online shopping 

Favorite fandom(s):  Marvel, Harry Potter, Disney, BBC Merlin (but I didn’t finish it cause i know how it ends :( ), Doctor Who, Sherlock, B99, RPDR, Ouran High School Host Club, Criminal Minds, and probably a ton others that I’m forgetting

Favorite book(s):  Harry Potter, I really liked the Percy Jackson series when I was growing up, The Kite Runner and a Thousand Splendid Suns were both so incredibly sad that I’ll never forget them so I should add them in here, Rupi Kaur’s poems, the October List, etc

Favorite movie(s):  MULAN. Anything else Disney/Pixar/Dreamworks, To All The Boys I Loved Before, uhhh I can’t think of anything else. Pls send me some recommendations though!!!

Favorite actor(s):  Copying @angryteapot when I say Chris Evans and RDJ, Chris Hemsworth, and some others I can’t think of 

Favorite actress(es):  Emma Watson, Zendaya, Julie Andrews, Anne Hathaway, probs some others but im bad at keeping up with celebrities

Favorite food(s): Um is it sad to say I don’t really have any? Ice cream?? 

Funniest memory: Lol i can’t of any, how sad it that? I mean what I can think of though is this time in first year, I was having a really rough day and I just wanted to come back to my dorm, have a bowl of Lucky Charms and sulk. But when I got home, I had no milk and literally burst into tears LOL my roommate was laughing at me and I was laughing at myself but like damn i was so sad about that milk OH WAIT I THOUGHT OF ANOTHER ONE LOL there was this guy that i liked in my senior year - we had known each other since grade 9 so like we were super great friends, but there was something about him in senior year that i was like damn he so sweet and i like him. anyways so we been flirting and all that shit, and i was the stage manager for that year of our school play (the trial of Ebenezer scrooge i think it was called) and he played one of the christmas ghosts. he had to have all these chains and emerge from the trap door so normally, he had someone else help him up from that trap door. The person who normally helped him was sick for a day so i helped him out. Anyways down there, he finally was like hey btw i like you and we had that whole talk about liking each other and it was cute. Anyways so apparently from the seats in the audience, you could kinda see into the trap door, and my friends were out there being like “omg we can see your heads...are yall kissing???” “omg where did your heads just go??? WHATRE YOU DOING DOWN THERE” - it was hilarious i love my friends and him lol they were great

Most touching memory: There was this girl in my high school, she was super sweet and great. I left for a year for some...reasons LOL, and when I came back, all my friends had moved on to finding better friend groups. I was going back into that school for my senior year feeling super alone and sad, and this girl who i had barely talked to in my other years messaged me being like ‘i know that your friends kinda moved away from you but i just wanted to let you know that if you ever need anything im here and id love to hang with you’. Like damn she made me so happy - i definitely didn’t feel as alone as i thought i would. 

Favorite childhood memory: eh i dont remember my childhood lol blacked it out due to bad memories 

Favorite thing about Tumblr:  FANFICS :D damn yall so creative and shit. It’s real bad though cause now im like fully in love with fictional characters and i have no clue what to do about it LOL 

THANKS TO @angryteapot FOR TAGGING ME <3 I LOVED YOUR ANSWERS, LOVELY!

Tagging: @kaytizzle @izzys-addiction-for-fiction @slytherinandco @neoqueen306 @home-the-long-way-around @skizzlewonderland @xenwayy @ireallyloveearlgrey and anyone else who wants to!!! tell me everything!!!

[saigebeaumont]

- ̗̀ * ( robert sheehan + cismale + he/him ) have you seen ( benjamin ‘benjy’ magwitch ) walking around campus ? they are a ( twenty-three ) year old, studying ( political science ). we hear they are in ( rho pi rho ), and can be ( magnetic & irresponsible ), maybe it’s because they are a ( leo ). they sort of remind us of ( shiny red apples, walking on ledges, kaleidoscopes ), maybe we can find out more ! ( james + 19 + est + they/she ) *  ̖́-  + theatre/track

hi hello as u may have seen my name is james and this is my baby, benjy. i dont know how long this is going to get so pls bare with me

tw; fire? 

gen. info

full name: benjamin ‘benjy’ henry magwitch / joshua hollowood but u will never catch him actually using his real name tbqh

nickname(s): think of a random name. any century, any gender, any amount of letters or lack thereof. that’s it that’s his nickname. previous aliases that he has claimed to be are - thaddeus, balthazar, dante, romulus, etc., etc.

b.o.d. - july 31st, age 23

label(s): the icarian, the blackhole, the insouciant, etc. etc.

height: tall

hometown: ???

sexuality: chaotically bisexual

bio. info

let’s try and make this short n sweet

so like. y’know when a faerie steals a human baby and replaces it with it’s own, weaker, inferior baby? benjy is the human baby in this case

except they weren’t faeries

dorothea and fawley were two...somewhat, in love, folks--who had really wanted to have a child of their own. when they did, finally, have their child--he was very sickly and small and neither of them wanted their child to be weak goddammit

so they did a switcharoo, like...switched at birth except i’ve never ever seen switched at birth, and ran off with this extremely rich family’s newborn baby instead!

dorothea and fawley were part of a circus, and thus, lil benjy was raised in a circus !! how cute.

needless to say he was raised in a very nontraditional setting, like, homeboy was homeschooled bc they were literally always travelling, around the country and once or twice out of country.

despite that, he never doubted that his circus family didn’t love him or anything like ?? yeah he never called his ‘parents’ mom or dad, but that’s bc it was like...everyone was his parent.

dorothea and fawley told benjy that his name will never define him, and he could be anyone or anything he wants to be.

this caused a tiny benjy to be CONSTANTLY changing his name. like, almost everyday he’d just declare a new name and everybody in the circus would call him that specific name. even when he did acts, he’d go by a different name every single time

this carried onto adulthood and benjy still doesn’t tell people his real name very often. sometimes they’re sort of normal names n other times they’re fucking bizarre.

when he was seven he declared his name was ‘sock’ for an entire month.

grew up doing a buncha odd lil jobs and roles in the circus, from being a lil handyman like fawley to being a magician’s assistant like dorothea. t’was a lil tiny animal tamer (before the circus stopped using animals in their acts because we don’t stan circuses like that no we do NOT) at some point but reeeaaally liked tightrope walking and things as such

also tried his hand at fire-throwing/etc. etc. but the like eighteen (minor!) burn scars across his body will tell u that it was not for him and he gave it up to pursue knife throwing tricks and juggling

wasn’t rly ever around ppl his own age, also never had a smartphone before he was like eighteen or so--he’s not old fashioned but he can definitely be behind on the times

also grew up listening to primarily older rock/folk music/whatever the fuck music his family created/his own music

that being said benjy is good w a guitar but bitch cannot sing. he sounds like a dying frog.

he also did a bunch of petty theft but that’s bc some of the other folk in the circus did it and he was like huh. looks like fun. bc benjy is thoroughly an idiot but more on that later. so he got some shit on his record but he got them sealed when he turned 18, like, asap

but. benjy is a dumbass. he committed ANOTHER petty crime, because the boy has addictive qualities, and he left some dna evidence bc boy’s got some mf hair

surprisingly, it wasn’t through his records that they found him via his dna  but, rather, his real parents who did a whole ass dna kit thing for fun one day

this came as a shock to everybody involved, honestly, though tbh ? benjy didn’t care that much that he had parents who weren’t the circus, but that’s bc of his entire upbringing.

either way his birth parents wanted to like. y’know. meet their delinquent biological son and when they did they were like ‘woah woah woah wtf ur in a circus’ and he was like haha yeah

n that was...sort of it, for a while. benjy was 18, had his GED, n wasn’t planning on going to college at all.

the circus was still traveling, the world was all right, etc. etc, benjy maintained contact with his bio parents bc it was Polite to do

and then the circus burned down! somebody did a flaming knife trick when they weren’t supposed to and, long story short--the entire circus went up in flames. there were no victims, no worries, but their entire livelihood was gone and they were all effectively displaced.

when his Rich Biological Parents found out about benjy’s newfound predicament that he 100% was not responsible for whatsoever, they were like . . . . listen. we’ve got a Reputation to uphold, but we’ll send you to college.

he’s been here since he was like, 21, so he’s a junior i think ??

he’s majoring in political science but it’s like technically his first year as the major bc his freshmen yr he wanted to do anthropology and then he switched to mathematics and homeboy was nvr satisfied but now he thinks he wants to do smth w social welfare so he’s doing political science w theatre and public affairs as minors

personality

he’s got. a big personality

he’s got this sort of energy that attracts others but they don’t really know why bc holy shit benjy can be annoying

he’s just super intense ?? like the boy does not know how to calm down, he’s constantly moving around and being dramatic and sometimes whiny

pouts more than a person should averagely pouts

i wouldn’t call him a liar because he can be, very very blunt, and doesn’t know how to beat around the bush, but he likes telling half-truths simply to either confuse others or to just b a lil bitch tbh

he’s got big dumbass energy like okay he’s smart he just doesn’t apply himself very often and he just. does dumb things

gets into fights bc he’s a dumbass. like. he will purposely provoke ppl he doesn’t like, n when he’s drunk he’ll do it to literally anybody esp ppl he likes

also just. doesn’t know when to stop talking. can find ways to ramble about nothing, asks questions w the intent of being annoying, etc. etc.

his ~parents~ didn’t rly believe in modern medicine n they were just like ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away!’ so he’s got this obsession w apples. literally is always chewing on an apple or a toothpick or anything he can get his hands on. he’s like a teething toddler, essentially

probably the dumbass who plays wonderwall at a party tbh

okay but fun fact! he’s super nimble and just. cat-like, from all his yrs of practicing n performing tightrope walking. if he falls over it’s because he wants to fall over and if he falls over it’s bc he wants ATTENTION

he loves. being the center of attention? but he’s also content with being in the background if it makes sense. he just wants to be doing something, anything

anyways he doesn’t take shit seriously at all like, i don’t think he’s ever had a serious conversation in his life ?

big slut for parties. he loves partying, he nvr knew he loved partying until he went to ucla but he loves it

he’s got an addictive personality so like okay. he’s not Addicted Addicted to anything specific (besides nicotine) but he definitely has no problem with drinking n doing drugs Often.

i mean he’s reckless too he never knows when to stop, feels like he’s tryn to be the Superior boy but he’s not and he’s probably overcompensating nowadays to deal w the guilt of accidentally burning down his entire life

drives cars too fast, drinks too much, has no problem getting into heavier drugs

also okay on a lighter note the boy used to be addicted to cigarettes bc he started fairly young but hoo boy he’s now on that juul game

literally he always has a juul on him. spends all his money on juuls

he works as a florist n a gardener for extra cash even tho his bio parents send him money, just bc its one of the only things that really calm him down tbh ??

also i meant it when i said he doesnt tell ppl his real name, like, ever. at least his first name bc he loves his last name but ? u probably dont know him as benjamin or even benjy, just smth stupid like marcellus the magnificent or booboo the fool hahahsdfgh

did i mention he casually juggles bc i genuinely cannot remember lmao

uuuhh there’s more i’m sure but !! i have a really bad memory!

i also dunno if im keeping his fc but we will SEE

he’s basically like....still a five yr old child

OH okay so i remembered smth else

he’s essentially a nomad which means he hates being rooted to ucla so he’s usually off drivin’ around the coast bc he’s bored goddammit but he always comes back bc he’s a loyal dog

speaking of loyal dogs. he’s got commitment issues. but not commitment issues? it’s sort of like. he gets really interested in things/people, kind of focuses all his energy on that thing or person, and then one day wakes up and is just. terribly bored. tends to drop ppl like that, esp relationships, and he doesn’t think much of it bc it’s Normal for him

but believe it or not, if u call him in the middle of the night he WILL show up, or if u wrong him instead of him wronging u, he’ll still b endlessly loyal

like he’s shitty but he’s got a heart ?

also like i said. he is chaotically bi. both chaotic and bisexual and also the two combined.

he’s chaotic neutral in general

wanted connections ?? possibly ??

frat bros - [hulk hogan voice] brother. he needs them

general friends ! - if u dont hate him then u just. love him, man. no inbetween

exes - he’s probably got...a few of these, because his attention span lasts like a max of two weeks

hookups - they also dont tend to last very long just bc of how he is as a person, but y’know. they good while they last

ex-hookups, specifically

ex-friends - bc he’s an idiot

if u really want to u can bring in a circus pal but firstly idk how they’d afford school but honestly. we can work smth out. hmu [kissy face]

roommate - do they hate each other ?? who knows

bad influence - they only egg on benjy’s dumbass behavior

good influence - probably forces him to study for once, or take care of his dumb ass

idk what to call it but like. ppl who HE eggs on to be bad, is generally toxic to the other person

anything else u want [another kissy face]

[stories-you-wont-hear]

– due process. pt 5

i will not rest until our reader has suffered and then some :) pls enjoy and leave lots of love xoxo mira

@abcreid enjoy!!!!!

“Y/N?” Matt asked gently in the midst of the bitter and loud exchange between Randall and ADA Johnson. It was the third time he had called your name and he finally caught your attention which had been lost within your own thoughts. “Yeah, sorry?” you whispered back, keeping your eyes on Randall who was making some sort of explanation to the judge. “You alright?” he asked, hand barely touching your shoulder. You nodded in reply, turning your attention towards the conversation.

“With no complaining witness the prosecution has no case,” Randall exclaimed, to which the ADA furiously replied, “So rape a girl, get rid of her, and that solves the problem?” The entire room fell silent, including Ben and Andrew, who had been sitting off to the side. The judge narrowed his eyes at the ADA and spoke slowly in response, “ADA Johnson, that’s quite the accusation.” “A completely incredulous one at that,” Matt chimed in, “The ADA has no proof to back up these accusations. And no complaining witness in the case against our clients.” “So just because the defendants outlived my client, they can get away with committing a heinous crime?” ADA Johnson shot back. The judge nodded in agreement, turning his eyes to your defense team as he spoke in agreement, “The ADA has a point. A lack of victim does not entail dismissal without good cause.” You could see Randall’s shoulders tense, he hadn’t expected the judge to agree. You turned your head to quickly glance at the boys; Ben looking worried and Andrew looking as if he were waiting at the dentist’s office. As much as you loathed Andrew Bennett, you knew that lawfully, you had grounds to dismiss the case. “Your Honor,” you spoke up, prompting Randall to take a quiet sigh of relief, “Cases in Ohio in the mid-2000’s dismissed sexual assault cases after the survivors died, so there is precedence.” “I can’t make this decision on precedence alone,” the judge replied, but to your relief he looked a little less convinced in the ADA’s point. Meanwhile, Johnson was shooting daggers at you and while you would’ve done the same if you were in her shoes, this was your job and you were going to do it, “The DA’s office has no corroborating witnesses and there is no complaining witness testimony. Furthermore, there was no deposition done before trial. Burden of proof lies on the prosecution and it is clear that they have not fulfilled their duties and to continue this trial on the weak case presented by the ADA would infringe upon my clients right to due process.”

You had not breathed during your little monologue and it wasn’t until the judge finally spoke until you finally let out the breath you had been holding, “I concur, Ms. Y/L/N. The case against Andrew Bennett and Benjamin Harris is dismissed without prejudice.” You heard a cry of relief behind you as Ben moved to hug Matt, bringing a small smile to your face until you caught eye of a smirk on Andrew’s face as he shook Randall’s hand. “Thanks,” he said with an air of carelessness in your direction. “Ms. Y/N, Mr. Randall,” Ben spoke up, turning towards the two of you, “Thank you so much.” You nodded, giving him a warm smile as Randall appeared to be flustered at Ben’s genuine gratefulness. You understood it, clients in your line of work only worked in paper emotions and showed their gratitude in retainers and payouts rather than verbal thanks. You were happy to help Ben, and by the look of it, Matt was, too.

“Your Honor,” ADA Johnson spoke up, “I reserve the right to bring up these charges again.” “And that is your right,” the judge assured, “When you can meet the burden of proof.” She nodded, turning her look towards your celebrating group, “And when I do, I plan on getting you down for murder.” “ADA Johnson,” the judge cut in with a tone heavy with warning, “If you are not bringing up those charges at this time, I suggest you wait until you have reasonable cause before making such accusations out loud.” She grimaced but said nothing further before storming out in front of you.

Andrew’s father was outside of the judge’s chambers, calm and collected in a suit that probably cost more than your monthly rent. The look on Randall’s face assured him that he had completed the job the Bennett family was paying him to do and the way Charles Bennett was patting his boy’s back cemented the thought you had that he had learned nothing from this experience. Mrs. Bennett also appeared, engulfing her son in a hug that from his stiff posture, he clearly didn’t want. “Your mom couldn’t come?” Matt asked Ben, to which he shook his head. “She couldn’t get off of work again,” he replied, his voice void of disappointment but his eyes filled with longing as he saw Andrew with his parents, “But she’ll be happy to hear. All thanks to you, Mr. Murdock.” Matt nodded in understanding, he had told you about his childhood, about his father somewhere between pillowtalk and drinks at Josie’s. “Murdock,” Randall spoke up, “Fine job.” “Thank you, Mr. Randall,” Matt replied coolly, “I was just doing my job.” Randall nodded, hesitating for a moment before asking, “Why don’t you come over to our office tonight, we’re having a little well-deserved celebration for our win today.” “It’ll be a step up from those pies you get,” Andrew Bennett chimed in with a smirk so haughty, you wanted it punch it off his face, “How many pies is your mom gonna make to pay for this case, huh, Benny?” Mrs. Bennett laughed, not sensing Ben’s look of discomfort, and swatted at her son’s arm, “Don’t be silly, Drew.” Matt chuckled along with her, but his laugh wasn’t genuine, you didn’t have to be Matt to be able to tell.

“Let’s get going,” Charles said, stepping away as his family followed, only turning to give Randall one last handshake. “I should get Ben home,” Matt said, moving to leave as well. “Right,” Randall said, not seeming dismayed at Matt’s lack of reply, but apparently you did. “We’re celebrating at Josie’s,” Matt said to you, quietly enough for Randall who was preoccupied on the phone, surely Wesley wanting to hear every detail of what had happened today. Your immediate thought was how much you wanted to be back there, in a both with Matt, Foggy, and Karen celebrating your win, but then Randall called for you, gesturing that you had to go. “I have to go to the thing at the office,” you said, trying not to sound dejected but you knew Matt and he knew you. “We’ll have pie,” he said teasingly, smiling that too charming to be true smile and you felt a blush creeping up on you as you remembered the smiles you had shared just a few nights ago. “I-” you said before Randall called to you, “I can’t.” That wasn’t what you had wanted to say, but it was what you had to. Wesley Randall was where you belonged.

Richard Wesley caught your eye as soon as you and Randall got to your floor and as he gestured for you to walk to him, the whole office turned their eyes. “I’d like you all to meet our new junior partner, Y/N Y/L/N.” You stopped in your tracks, your eyes wide as Wesley spoke of your promotion. Surely it was something incredibly monumental as a woman working in corporate law, but you had expected yourself to be much more excited when the moment came. The slew of associates looked at you in a mixture of awe and jealousy as you stepped into Wesley’s office behind Randall. “I want to congratulate you, Y/N,” Wesley said with a smile you hadn’t seen before, “Malcolm told me that you were the one who swayed the judge.” You eyed Randall, who nodded softly in your direction, before looking back at Wesley. “I don’t…” you began, your mouth suddenly feeling as if it were filled with cotton and you were thinking a thousand miles a minute but at the same time your head felt empty. “I can’t afford the partnership,” you sputtered, thinking of the first excuse you could make, “I don’t have the money.” Wesley simply smiled at you as he shook his head, “Don’t worry about it.” “What do you mean?” Randall chimed in, sounding as confused as you felt. Wesley licked his lips as he took a moment, seeming as if he were thinking about how to phrase himself. “Well,” he began, crossing his arms across his chest, “Charles Bennett has offered to pay your partnership fee.” “What?” you cried, the whole situation seeming weird to you. “How is that?” Randall questioned slowly, but his tone making you wonder if he was really asking a question. He had that tone where he was asking a question but didn’t seem as if he didn’t know the answer. “Well,” Wesley continued, taking a seat at his desk and gesturing for you to take a seat next to Randall, but you didn’t. You felt like if you sat down, you wouldn’t be able to get up again.

“He wants you to take the Bennett family on retainer. Be their family lawyer,” Wesley explained. He went on, saying things about how impressed Charles Bennett was and how this job would guarantee financial security and it would help your career, but his promises fell on deaf ears. This awful sort of feeling rose in your chest as you thought of the next time you would have to defend Andrew Bennett for doing something unlawful and heinous, and the next time, and the next and you just couldn’t. You struggled to find your voice as Wesley spoke on, speaking of how great of an opportunity this was and how grateful you should be to the Bennett family for recognizing your worth. “No,” you finally choked out. Wesley simply continued on until Randall interrupted him, having heard your short rejection. “Richard,” he said, turning to you with concerned eyes. “Y/N,” he said, “are you alright?” “No,” you said, sounding much more clear to  your surprise, “I’m not.” “What’s the matter?” Wesley asked hesitantly, looking between you and Randall. “I quit,” you said suddenly. The words, once spoken out loud, qualmed the sick feeling you felt taking over your body and the longer the silence after those words sat, the better you felt. “I quit,” you said again, this time more firmly. “No, you don’t,” Wesley laughed, “Sit down, Y/N.” “No,” you said standing your ground as Randall looked at you with a mixture of fear and awe. His eyes were softer, for he had gotten to know you over the course of this case and unlike his interactions with most of his clients, he felt a bit of compassion towards the intelligent woman he knew you to be. “I am tired,” you spoke, each and every word calculated and thought out over the course of not just the past couple of minutes but over the years and years of working at this soulless corporate machine, “I am tired of allowing myself to be used as a means of gain, Wesley. I help rich people get richer, and I was okay with that even if it wasn’t the right thing. But now, I have helped a rapist get away with his crime.” Wesley looked on shocked at your gall for saying those things, but didn’t, perhaps couldn’t dispute the point you had made about Andrew Bennett. “I refuse to allow myself to continue to be that person. I can’t touch Andrew Bennett, but I will not become a pawn in the game the Bennett family plays. I am not going to be someone I hate anymore,” you finished, your voice becoming hoarse at the end, “I quit.” Before Wesley or Randall could say anything, you moved to exit the office, ignoring the curious looks you were getting from the staff and even Clara calling your name.

You didn’t stop until you were standing outside of Josie’s, yet that was where you began thinking. You knew they were in there, celebrating over the freedom they had won for Ben, who completely deserved it. Meanwhile, you thought of Andrew Bennett, who was probably out getting shit faced while celebrating getting away with his crime. It was that thought that had you locked outside of Josie’s, steps away from entering the bar and enjoying your own freedom, and it was that thought that still weighed on your heart. And you carried that weight all the way home.

The next day was spent holed up in your apartment, not answering calls from anyone, including Randall who had called too many times for you to think it was just about you coming back to work. From his messages, you could pick up the slightest sense of worry from the older man. He’d get over it, you figured, corporate types were like that. You had plenty of savings to cruise by on for the time being, but you weren’t sure what getting a huge win for your big name law firm and then quitting the same firm would account for when applying to new jobs. You weren’t even sure what the hell you were going to do, especially as you ignored Matt’s calls. He had left you three messages. One from the other night, presumably from when the gang was at Josie’s from what you could hear of Karen and Foggy in the back. He was tipsy, you could tell from his voice, as he asked you to come down because Foggy missed you. He certainly was inebriated enough to add that he did, too. The next message was from this morning, asking you to lunch, to meet at that diner Ben liked to go to with the really good pancakes, even though he knew you were more of a waffle person. His third message didn’t seem to worry when you hadn’t returned his calls, you were a busy person, the key were being were as in past tense not present as you no longer had a job. It came when you were curled up in your bed and you read his name each time your phone’s screen glowed with each ring. He said he missed you and hoped you didn’t regret what had happened that one night and that he didn’t just want it to be a one time thing. He didn’t sound drunk but you were too sober to let yourself think of having that kind of happiness.

It was sometime after noon and while you were drying your hair, dressed for the day in a pair of jeans and a casual sweater, you jumped at the sound of knocking at your door. “Y/N?” the voice called, and as you rubbed the sleepy haze from your eyes, you recognized it as Matt’s. He had actually shown up, you marveled, setting down the dryer to go to answer the door. “Matt,” you called through the door as you were opening it, “I’m sorry for no-” “Y/N,” he interjected, “You have to come with me.” You moved to let him in, spying a box sitting outside the apartment and then moved to bring it inside. “What’s that?” he asked as you set the box down on your kitchen counter. “It’s from…” you started, trying to find the shipping sticker only to find that there was none. It looked an awful like the boxes you used at work to store files, and as you pulled off the top, you found the contents of your desk to affirm that you were for sure no longer employed. “Wesley Randall,” you finished flatly. “What did they send you?” he asked, distracted for the moment from whatever he had come to you for. “Wait, never mind,” he spoke as you did at the same time, “I quit.” “Wait, what?” he exclaimed, stepping towards you. You sighed, brushing your nearly dry hair from your face, “I quit, Matt. Isn’t that what you wanted?” He didn’t speak for a minute, only seemed to listen for something despite the fact that you weren’t saying anything.

“You have to come with me,” he said, repeating himself. “Where?” you asked while moving to grab your coat nonetheless. If you could say it without sounding like an insensitive fool, you’d make a note to the world that when it came to Matt Murdock, you’d follow him blindly. “To the station,” he hurriedly explained as you grabbed your shoes, figuring there was no time to change from your casual outfit. You glanced once more at the open box filled with your belongings and briefly wondered who had brought it, shaking the thought of Malcolm Randall coming all the way to your neighborhood to deliver your things before slipping on whatever pair of shoes were convenient, “What’s the matter, Matt?” You grabbed your purse as the two of you stepped out the door, you fumbling with your keys as you locked your apartment while being on your toes about the situation Matt seemed so tense about. Your apartment lock clicked and you moved towards the stairs before realizing that Matt wasn’t following you, and instead was leaning against your door. “Matt?” you called, to which he didn’t reply. “Matt?” you called again, stepping towards him. “Ben,” he said finally, “They arrested Ben for the murder of Amanda Taylor.”

[sophia1644]

Downpour

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Warnings: angst to the damn max, both of you guys crying and being absolutely devastated bc u lost each other ;((((( , but don’t worry it’s a v happy ending aka smutty towards the end

Summary: Y/N loves Stiles Stilinski dearly and can’t believe she let her soulmate slip through her fingers so easily. Luckily, Stiles comes to the same realization, both of them not letting the downpour hinder their love.

Word Count: 1.4k 

A/N: yayayyayayay, I really like this I was listening to this song on repeat. omfg it’s so good idk I love her voice and the vibes. Like I feel like I should be in a quaint coffee shop sipping a latte in a cozy sweater with my boyfriend. Don’t forget to comment if you like this ;) it’s much appreciated bc I love feedback!! It makes my day!!!

.

.

I sit down at the wooden bench to my bay window, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders and snuggling deeper into the crimson flannel that still vaguely smelt of him. I hug my mug full of hot cocoa closer to my chest, warmth radiating to my fingertips as I look out the window. Rain falls down, wetting the pavement and turning everything a darker shade while a peaceful, rhythmic sound taps against the glass pane.

I wish that he was here, but I push that thought aside, knowing that he wasn’t mine anymore. A tear slips down my cheek and I’m quick to brush it away with the heel of my hand, taking in a deep breath and exhaling it through my nose.

“It’s over,” is all that keeps replaying in my head on repeat. The way his face morphed from anger to disbelief to sadness within a second after the brash words fell from my lips, fueled by anger and not truth. The way I slammed the door as I ran out of his house, keys in hand and tears brimming my eyes. And the way I didn’t turn back. And how I haven’t answered anyone’s calls or texts for at least a week now, including his.

“I’m such an idiot,” I mutter, more tears threatening and proceeding to fall down my cheeks. I can’t believe that that is how I ended things with the person I truly believed- still believe, is my soulmate.

One argument that went too far, ending with anger-filled words that we would never use with clear state of mind. Words that we would never use in any circumstance towards each other, but still managed to slip past our lips.

I set the cracked blue mug aside, wrapping my arms around my knees and tugging them closer, placing my chin atop as tears continue streaming down my face with no sign of stopping.

How the hell could I let him go? Just, how?

My phone buzzes. I don’t even bother glancing toward the bright screen, knowing that it’s probably just another pointless text that’ll be ignored.

But, the device buzzes again, and again, and again, countless times, for minutes on end. I pick it up, preparing to go to my settings to turn off all notifications, but my fingers stop moving, my whole body convulsing as I weep harder. I forgot that my lock screen was a picture of Stiles and I laughing together, mid-kiss, not to mention the notification that I have 29 missed calls from him.

I click on one of the voicemails, immediately regretting it as the familiar sound of his voice echoes around my room, but with a noticeable flaw. I can tell he’s been crying as his voice breaks at certain syllables, his state of utter sadness similar to mine.

“Love, please j-just pick up the pho-phone, so tha-that we can tal-lk it out.”

But, isn’t he better without me? It’s clear that I’m a fuck up from losing him in the first place and I’m also the reason that this preciously perfect boy is crying. So, how could he not be better off without me?

The harsh truth was that Mieczyslaw Stilisnki didn’t need me, and that hurt. More than I’d like to admit honestly.

“Y/N, I’m be-begging you. Pl-lease, I ne-eed you to pick up.”

“You haven’t and-answered anyone. Not even Ly-Lydia. At this point, I jus-just need to make sure you’re ok-okay. Bec-cause if you’re not, god, love, pl-please I can’t do this. Pi-ick up.”

“Fuck it, Y/N, I’m co-coming over. I can’t t-take this anymore.”

By some act of the gods, I glance out the window again and there he is. Roscoe is parked on the street, Stiles sitting in the drivers seat, tapping his fingers against the wheel, one of his nervous ticks.

His warm brown eyes dart up to my window, an expression of relief flooding his features. He raised his phone in my vision, pointing frantically at it. I look down at my own to see his profile picture fill my screen, a phone call coming from him.

I tentatively grasp my phone in my hands, the button to answer tempting me. I look back out the window to see Stiles looking back at me with desperation, biting his bottom lip.

The sight of him pushes me over the edge, my instincts picking up the call and raising the phone to my ear.

“Thank god,” he says exasperatedly. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m so so-sorry for everythi-thing it’s all my fa-fault. I take it all bac-ck. Just pl-please come back to me, Y/N. I can’t, I can’t do this with-without you, love.”

Teardrops that were previously balancing on my bottom lash line fall with Stiles’ rushed slur of words. 

“Y/N? Please say som-something, any-nything,” he sighs breathlessly, resting his head against the steering wheel to his blue jeep, lines creasing his forehead as his brows pull down, looking up at me still.

“I’ll be down in a sec, a second,” I manage to say in coherent words, standing up and walking down the hall, slipping on a pair of shoes and braving the downpour outside.

I run to the passenger’s side door, tugging open the door and quickly sitting down, already feeling drenched from head to toe.

The vehicle stays silent for multiple seconds as we both stare dead ahead, neither of us sure where to begin. Stiles ends up breaking the silence, both of us turning towards each other at the same time as he takes in a sharp breath. He reaches out to latch his hand into mine, and I allow him, feeling at home in his touch.

“I shouldn’t have let that fight gone that far,” he apologizes, reaching up and tucking a strand of my unruly hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my cheek. He looks down, mumbling a profanity under his breath.

“No, don’t blame yo-yourself,” I counter, grasping his chin and guiding his eyes back up to my own. “It’s my fault more than yours, Stiles.”

“No, no, it’s not your fa-ault. You’re not all-allowed to say that either,” he hurriedly argues, shaking his head, his nose bumping into mine due to how close we managed to get.

“Then, it’s neither of our faults,” I conclude, my hand traveling to the back of his neck and playing with the short hairs there. He nods, parting his lips and his eyes darting to mine.

“Can we make a vow to never fight again?” He murmurs softly, wiping away the tears littered across my cheeks.

“Please. I hated being away from you,” I reply, my other hand resting on his black sweatshirt-clad chest.

“Why didn’t you answer any of my calls?” Stiles asks, his brows furrowing. 

“I thought you were better off without me,” I confess, pulling my lip in between my teeth.

His eyes widen and he kisses me suddenly, with no warning, our lips pressing with an intensity that neither of us were prepared for. I pull back in surprise and he quickly explains himself. “Y/N, I’m literally nothing without you. How could I be better off without my other half?”

I smile fondly at him, the remnants of tears on both of our faces not reflecting the immense happiness between us at the moment. I swiftly throw my leg over his, straddling him carefully as to not hit the ceiling or the wheel.

I laugh as he smirks cheekily at me, feeling the curve of his smile still as I kiss him. The kisses become more intense, the eagerness from both of us growing. He feverishly pulls me by the waist closer to minimize any distance between his body and mine.

His mouth starts trailing hot kisses down my jawline, then my neck, blowing cool air over it, making me squirm slightly. Stiles starts unbuttoning his flannel currently worn by me, a small smile forming now that the realization that I’m wearing his clothes hits him.

He peers out the window for a moment, tossing the flannel behind his shoulder to the back seat. “It sure is raining out there, huh?” He jokes, trying to annoy me.

“Stiles, we’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

“Oh, yeah, that. The fact that my beautiful as hell girlfriend is making out with me in my jeep didn’t slip my mind whatsoever.”

“Just kiss me, dork.”

[jaeminlore]

Adventure // Na Jaemin

-

the prompt: can you write a prince!jaemin au bc i love that boy sm pls.

words: 4800

category fluff + minor angst

author note: i love him sm too. also this is lowkey from a tolkien quote: “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone.”

- destinee

-

You sat around the dinner table with your grandparents, unable to return the bright smiles they sent your way.

Did they even hear themselves?

“What do you mean the prince is going to live with us? This is a joke, right?”

Your grandfather patted your shoulder comfortingly in a way only grandfather’s can do. “With the threats to the castle, Her Majesty has requested that we hide him here. No assassin will think to look in a blacksmith’s home.”

“You work for the queen,” you argued. “Won’t they suspect you and the rest of the staff when they can’t find the prince?”

Your grandmother butted in. “Her Majesty has made her decision final. Prince Jaemin will come to be under our secret care until the assassins are caught.”

“What do we do with a prince?” You asked in confusion. As far as you knew, he was probably spoiled and not used to working. What would he do while you and your grandparents were working?

“He’ll help you with your rounds around the town.” Your grandmother answered calmly, as if she and your grandfather had already discussed it.

As your grandfather was a blacksmith, you often delivered the orders he finished to the customers. It wasn’t a hard job, and after delivering you usually arrived home and helped your grandfather clean the tools and weapons he had worked on that day.

“When is he coming?” You asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” your grandfather replied, “Your grandmother will be going to the healer tomorrow so I need you to go to the market and pick him up. Then you can pick up our groceries.”

“Okay,” you replied, knowing it was useless to argue with him.

Even if you were skeptical about the prince coming, you definitely weren’t going to defy your grandparents. You had lived with them since you were a child, and you knew there was no use in trying to argue with them.

You struggled to sleep as you anticipated what would happen the next day.

-

Despite your grandparents’ protests, you didn’t wear your nicest clothes to meet the prince.

The last thing you wanted was to stick out like a sore thumb in the middle of the market. You didn’t care if Prince Jaemin stuck out on his own; that was his problem.

You walked to the market with your rucksack hanging from your shoulders. You were told that the prince would be arriving in a carriage near the strawberry stand.

“Mark!” You said cheerily as soon as you saw your friend who worked the strawberry stand. “I’ll take a pound of strawberries, please.”

“A pound?” Mark laughed as he began to weigh the red fruit. “That’s a lot more than usual.”

“Well, Grandmother want to make a strawberry pie for a guest we have.”

Mark’s father was also close to the royal family, being their top agricultural worker. “Oh, right. I’ll go let him know you’re here.”

You handed him the proper amount of change and packed the strawberries safely in your rucksack before Mark went back behind his stand.

“Y/n, this is Jaemin. Jaemin, this is Y/n,” Mark said, pulling a tan boy behind him.

You watched him, only to widen your eyes and look down. You didn’t remember the prince being that handsome. His black hair was a bit too long, and his smile was wide. You had never seen whiter teeth in your life.

“Hi, Y/n.” As if he wasn’t in line to be the future king, Jaemin held his hand out for you to shake. “Call me Jaemin, since I’m incognito.”

Indeed, he was. Dressed almost identical to you and Mark, he looked ready to face the village in his brown leather trousers, his tucked in and baggy beige shirt, and his knee-length boots.

You could tell they weren’t his everyday clothes, for they were far too clean, showing no blemish or tear anywhere.

“Hi, Jaemin. We’ve got some shopping to do before we get home. Is that okay?” You spoke formally, wondering if you would be thrown in jail for saying something wrong or looking the prince in the eyes.

Jaemin must’ve noticed, because he stopped you and placed both hands on your shoulders. He pushed them so they weren’t so tense and smiled at you. You really weren’t sure if you were ever going to get used to that smile.

“Just speak casually, Y/n.” Jaemin widened his smile. “We’re friends so let’s talk like it.”

“Alright,” you spoke, gently moving out of his grip. “Then we need flour, sugar, and eggs before we return home to help Grandfather.”

“What’re we making?” Jaemin asked. There was a certain bounce in his step that you couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps he was just a peppy person.

“My grandmother wants to make you a strawberry pie.”

Jaemin walked beside you, quiet for a moment. Then he piped, “What if we make the pie for your grandmother?”

“What’s the difference?” You asked, stopping at the booth where a local was selling flour. You accepted the large sack after you paid and turned, handing it to Jaemin.

The prince didn’t complain, he only shifted the bag in a more comfortable position and kept walking. “The difference is that your grandmother doesn’t have to bake a pie! She’ll be so surprised!”

“That’s a sweet idea,” you sighed, “but I don’t know how to bake a pie.”

“You don’t have to know. I know how to bake pies.” Jaemin surprised you with his words. “My servant taught me how to cook and bake.”

Your furrowed your brows. “Why would a prince have to learn how to bake?”

“I didn’t have to,” Jaemin corrected you. “I asked her to teach me. I surprised my mom with an apple pie for her birthday and the smile on her face was so worth all the effort. So, let’s make a pie for your grandmother. I’ll help you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “Let’s hurry home then, because I still have to deliver my grandfather’s orders this morning.”

“I’ll help you with that, too. That way we’ll finish two times quicker than you would doing it alone.”

By this time, you had found the woman who sold sugar, and you hastily paid her for the correct measurement you needed. Then you led Jaemin out of the marketplace, toward your home.

-

You were glad Jaemin was so good at keeping conversation up. The boy never seemed to run out of anything to say. Especially when the two of you arrived at your grandfather’s smithing shop after dropping the ingredients and Jaemin’s luggage off at your house.

He just couldn’t believe how many swords and other miscellaneous weapons covered your grandfather’s walls. “This is the same design our knights have,” Jaemin said to you in fascination.

You ignored him, not out of rudeness, but out of lack of anything to say. Instead, you turned to your grandfather. “How many orders today?”

“Only one,” he replied, handing you a pair of long knives wrapped tightly in burlap. “Deliver this to Madam Burk across the lake, and then you’re done.”

“What does Madam Burk want with long knives?” You asked skeptically.

Jaemin walked over and peaked over your shoulder. All that could be seen of the knives were the carefully carved hilts. “Wow!”

He traced over the intricate details on the stained wood. “How long did this take?”

While he and your grandfather bonded over weapons, you felt far too aware of how close the prince was to you. His chest kept brushing against your shoulder and any time he laughed he would look at you, perhaps wondering if you laughed as well.

You were well aware by now that Jaemin had no respect for personal space. The boy was playful and curious, and he wasn’t about to let something silly like personal boundaries keep him from discovering new things around him.

It was cute to you, the way his eyes lit up when he saw something he found interesting. He was currently nodding his head eagerly as he listened to your grandfather explain the painstakingly boring process of staining wood. If he nodded his head any more, you were sure it was going to fall right off his neck.

“I should really get these to Madam Burk.” You interrupted their talk. “You guys can stay here and talk, though. I’ll be right back.”

Jaemin shook his head and followed you out of the forge. “I’m coming with you! I want to see Madam Burk.”

“You don’t know Madam Burk,” you told him calmly.

“I want to know her,” Jaemin pointed out.

You let out a breathy chuckle. He never ran out of curiosity, that was for sure. “Let’s go then.”

-

Although you were used to a busy schedule with your grandparents, you certainly weren’t used to doing any of it with the level of enthusiasm Jaemin had.

You still weren’t sure how he got the grumpy Madam Burk to smile for him and invite the both of you in for tea.

This little unplanned visit set your schedule back slightly, so you and Jaemin were quick to return to your house to prepare the pie for your grandmother.

“She should be back within the hour,” you told Jaemin as you cut up the strawberries.

He was busy kneading the homemade dough, “So, at the least, it would be in the oven when she returned. That would be just as well.”

While you cut the fruit in silence, you noticed Jaemin staring at you from the corner of his eye. “What?”

Jaemin chuckled and looked away. “I just find it odd that you haven’t asked me about my life as a prince yet. Don’t you want to know what the castle looks like on the inside? Or how many servants we actually have?”

“Should I?” You asked. “None of those matters concern me in the slightest.”

“You aren’t the least bit curious?” Jaemin pondered aloud, sounding offended.

“You can tell me if you want,” you permitted. “I’m just letting you know that I haven’t really wondered about it before.”

“I’ll take it,” Jaemin said contently. “Let me tell you about my dream: to be a knight.”

Jaemin began to roll out the properly kneaded dough, shaping it into the pie plate accordingly. “So, your grandfather obviously does a lot of the castle’s weapon work. In fact, my mother gave me the option of staying with Mark’s family, since I knew him, but I wanted to go here instead because I look up to your grandfather.”

“Really?” You found it hard to believe. Sure, your grandfather was a lovely man, but he wasn’t extraordinary or anything.

“Yeah,” Jaemin smiled. “Your grandfather was never a knight, but his craftsmanship for weapons really inspires me. Ever since I was little I wanted to become a knight and be the best swordsman in the kingdom. I wanted to go on quests with my fellow knights and sleep outside by a campfire, fending off wolves with nothing but a stick and a flame.”

“You seem to have thought about it a lot,” you mentioned.

“Of course; it’s my dream.” Jaemin then changed the subject. “Let’s make the filling next.”

You grabbed a large bowl and brought it over to the counter. While you dumped the cut strawberries into the bowl, Jaemin measured out the additional ingredients.

“Tell me more about this dream of yours,” you spoke up, now intrigued.

“Well, there isn’t much more to it,” Jaemin sighed. “The reality is that I’m a prince, not a knight. It’s my duty to stay in the castle and prepare to rule the kingdom one day. While I do have swordsmanship lessons, it’s nothing like a knight’s training. It’s okay, though. One day, when I’m king, I’ll go on my own quest.”

Without thinking, the words popped into your brain. “We could go on a quest now.”

Jaemin dropped the wooden spoon he was holding, and watched as it clattered to the ground. “What?”

“We could have our own adventure!” You said.

“What would we do?” Jaemin’s eyes suddenly widened in excitement. “Where would we go?”

You pondered his questions as you poured the filling into the pie crust. “Let’s stick this in the oven and then we’ll talk about it.”

Once the pie was safely in the oven, you and Jaemin went to your room to talk about the quest in secret.

“There’s a waterfall in the forest,” you said. “We could go jump off of it. Or we could go search some of the caves nearby and see if we can find something cool.”

“We could look for jewels!” Jaemin said, agreeing with your second option. “We’ll need to bring pickaxes, in case we want to go mining for stones.”

“Okay,” you said. “Tomorrow, after our chores, let’s go on an adventure.”

-

“I honestly don’t think your grandmother would’ve let us leave if we hadn’t baked her that pie,” Jaemin said as he two of you walked towards the forest.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the prince. She probably didn’t want to get on your family’s bad side.”

“Even so, it’s great luck that your grandfather had some pickaxes for us,” Jaemin spoke, holding his own pickaxe over his shoulder. “Do you think we’ll find anything?”

“I don’t know,” you said.

At that, the two of you stayed silent for the rest of the journey. The forest outside of the kingdom was very dense, with tall oak trees growing so close to each other their branches intermingled with each other.

It created a foliage roof for the two of you to walk under. Protected from the hot sun, you and Jaemin both enjoyed the fresh air at a slow pace. You were in no hurry to get to the caves.

“Woah!” Jaemin stopped, and since he was a bit ahead of you, you ran into his back.

“Oomph!” You grunted in discomfort. “Why’d you stop so suddenly?”

“Look.” Jaemin pointed to a small animal standing in the middle of a trail. “I’ve never seen one in real life.”

“A rabbit?” You found yourself giggling at the frigid look on the prince’s face. “Here, let’s go say hello.”

Jaemin opened his mouth to protest as you grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to the animal. Once you were only a few feet away, you slipped your bag off of your back and pulled out a carrot.

You handed it to Jaemin. “Hold it out for the rabbit.”

Jaemin refused. “What if it bites me?”

“It won’t,” you assured him.

“Do it with me, please.” Jaemin said, cutting his gaze to yours.

You obliged, finding humor in the situation. “Hold your palm out.”

You placed the carrot in Jaemin’s open palm and held his wrist. “Now wait for the rabbit to notice.”

With a few clicks of your tongue, you got the animal’s attention. The rabbit’s nose twitched as it noticed the orange vegetable.

You felt Jaemin tense in nervousness, so you patted his shoulder with your hand. “Rabbit’s really aren’t that scary, Jaemin.”

When the rabbit hopped over and sniffed the carrot, both of you stilled. Finally, Jaemin broke into a soft smile when the rabbit grabbed the carrot with its teeth and pulled it away from you both.

“See? They’re harmless.” You said, helping Jaemin to his feet.

The prince breathed a sigh of relief. “To be fair, I thought their teeth were a lot bigger than that.”

-

The caves consisted of around five cave openings that started at the end of the forest and all connected together. Eventually, they led into a mountain, but no one ever went that deep into the caves. It was said to be as virtually impossible to escape as a life size maze the deeper you went, so you were sure to warn Jaemin not to wander off.

Guess who didn’t listen to you?

“Jaemin!” You rounded yet another corner of the cave and looked around for the prince. “We need to stick together.”

You weren’t sure what kind of trouble the prince would get himself into. Truthfully, you were more worried about the creatures that could possibly live in any of these hidden crevices.

“Y/n!” Jaemin’s voice suddenly shouted.

You darted towards the voice, worried that he had somehow gotten hurt already. “I’m coming!”

When you found him, he was not hurt at all. In fact, he looked fairly content, crouching in front of the lake that was hidden in the cave’s interior.

He stirred the water with his finger. “Look, Y/n. There are little fish here and they aren’t scared of me.”

“That’s because they’re blind.” You said, and followed up by explaining why.

“Oh,” Jaemin looked disappointed. “I thought they were just really brave fish.”

You snorted. “You have a naive mind. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Jaemin looked up. “Yeah. My mom says I need a more practical sense of the world if I’m going to rule the kingdom.”

You dropped you bag and rolled your shoulders back a few times before sitting beside him. He was still stirring the water with his fingers.

“I don’t think being naive is necessarily a bad thing,” you said. “As long as you have other qualities as well, I don’t think you have to be practical to run a kingdom.”

“What qualities?” Jaemin queried.

“Well, for instance, compassion. Or being a hard worker. Having empathy for others, especially in a lower position than you is a great trait as well. I think your mother might be worried about your willingness to trust people so quickly. Once you’re king, people will want to use your friendship for selfish reasons, so I think she just wants to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

“That’s exactly why I’m making friends now,” Jaemin said. “So when I’m king, I can have loyal people by my side, helping me with the qualities I might lack.”

You were silent for a moment. Jaemin really was a mystery to you. Since he was usually hyper and fully of vigor, you never expected him to be this solemn. Then again, he was only a teenager, so it must be hard on him knowing he must rule the whole kingdom one day.“

“Is that why you want to be a knight?” You dared to ask him.

“Yeah,” Jaemin breathed. “I could be myself if I was a knight. I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. A knight’s greatest trait is loyalty, and I can offer that easily.”

You nodded in understanding. It seemed that was all Jaemin needed. Perhaps letting his worries out in the darkness of a cave was good for him, for he went right back to his normal self, eager to dig for jewels.

Neither of you found any jewels or special stones that day, but maybe that was never what the journey was about anyway.

-

Your grandparents let you and Jaemin sleep in the next day, after being exhausted from your adventure. After all, two seventeen year olds need their sleep, no matter how much they might assure you they don’t.

Still, you and Jaemin only slept in about an hour later than usual. Some of his energy must’ve transferred to you, for you found yourself wanting to go on yet another adventure.

Instead, you were stuck inside, thanks to lightening and pouring rain that occurred outside. Your grandmother was still under the weather, so you did her usual work while Jaemin hung out with your grandfather in the forge.

Once you were done with your work, you made sandwiches and brought them into the forge.

“Y/n! You’re alive!” Jaemin showed you his never-wavering grin as you walked in.

You set the plate of lunch down and eyed the longsword in Jaemin’s hand. “What’re you doing?”

“Your grandfather said I could whet a design into the hilt. Want to help?”

You agreed and dragged a stool over to watch him. You nibbled on your sandwich and watch over his shoulder as he struggled to carve a design into the wood. “What design are you going to do?”

“I want to do my family’s crest, but I think it’ll be too hard to do.” Jaemin said. “Since this is the only chance I have, I want to design something simpler.”

“Why don’t you make your own crest,” you suggested. “Something easier but just as significant. It could remind you of the time you spent here.”

Jaemin pondered your suggesting for a moment before nodding. “I should do our initials!”

“No!” You protested, color rising into your cheeks at a quick rate. “That could be taken a wrong way.”

“So?” Jaemin chuckled. “I want to remember our time together. We don’t know when I’ll have to leave, so I want to enjoy our friendship while it lasts.”

Your grandfather announced that he was going to go check on his wife, and grabbed a sandwich on the way out.

“You know you’re welcome back anytime,” you told Jaemin. There was nothing you liked about the idea that he might not come back.

The prince had wedged his way into your heart in a mere three days, and you weren’t about to give up that easily.

“I wish,” Jaemin said. “And I promise I would if I ever have the time, but my schedule is so busy nowadays. I’m sure it’ll be worse when I get back, since I’ll be behind.”

You frowned. “Well, can’t I come visit? I know I’m not royalty or whatever but I could help you with your princely duties or something.”

Jaemin chuckled. “I doubt you want to help with all the boring stuff I do. But I would love for you to be there, just as company.”

“You mean it?” You asked.

“Of course I do,” Jaemin said. Then he bumped your shoulder playfully. “Don’t think you’re the only one who feels this way.”

You could only blush and look away.

-

Jaemin felt closer to you after that. Somewhere along the way, between the second and third week of living with your family, he decided that you would appreciate it if he clung onto you like a koala whenever he felt like it.

Which would explain your current predicament, struggling to clean your grandfather’s tools while Jaemin had his arms around your waist and his chin on your shoulder.

Not only could you not concentrate, you also couldn’t breathe properly because of his close proximity.

It was no surprise to you when you began to like Jaemin as more than a friend. Although you regretted it sometimes, it wasn’t like you could just erase your feelings. If Jaemin wasn’t so clingy, it would be much easier to smother your feelings deep down until he left to go back to the castle.

“Can I help?” He asked.

You turned to look at him, but quickly terminated the action when you noticed how close his face was to yours. “Yeah, just grab a rag and a tool or weapon.”

Jaemin let go of you and grabbed a rag and a dagger that seemed particularly dirty. You didn’t watch as he cleaned, having your own object to polish. That was why you were so surprised to hear Jaemin hiss in pain a drop the dagger onto the stone table nearby.

“What happened?” You asked, eyeing the cut that ran down the prince’s palm. It was bleeding steadily, so you told him to sit while you ran to get some supplies.

You returned only a few moments later to Jaemin sitting on the stool with his head down.

“Alright, Jaemin. Give me your hand,” you ordered him gently.

He held out his hand, which you could already see was swollen and infected from the dirty blade. “Now, can you explain to me what happened?”

While he explained, you poured disinfectant onto a clean rag. “I was just cleaning the dagger.”

“How did you clean it?” You asked, apologizing quickly afterwards as you began to dab the medicine on his wounds.

Jaemin hissed quietly, the veins in his wrist tensing for a moment before returning back to normal. “I rubbed the rag up and down the blade.”

“Did you hold circle your palm around the blade?”

“I thought that’s what you were supposed to do,” Jaemin defended himself.

You began to wrap his hand. “No, you should never do that. Next time, try a buffering technique.”

“What’s that?”

“Umm,” you struggled to explain. “Like, wipe the sword with the rag but only clean one side at a time. Use circular motions, I guess? I’ve never explained it before, but I’ll show you how to do it eventually.”

“Thanks.” Jaemin grinned and held up his wrapped hand. “I dare say you could be a healer with this kind of skill.”

“I’m just doing what I was taught.”

“You know, I never asked. What’s your dream, Y/n?” Jaemin asked, peering at you inquisitively.

You hummed in thought before answering. “I don’t know yet. I kind of just want to get married and have a family. Isn’t that too plain for a dream?”

“No.” Jaemin smiled at you. “That’s a nice dream to have. It offers security.”

“I think so,” you agreed. “I mean, obviously I want to do a bunch of stuff before I get to that point. For instance, I want to find a rare jewel before you do.”

Jaemin returned your teasing smile with a laugh. “No way! I’ll definitely beat you with at that dream.”

-

A few nights later, a messenger from the castle came and informed your grandparents that the assassin was captured and Jaemin was to return to the castle the next morning. You ended up taking the news harder than you thought you would, but you able to hide your emotions while you hung out with Jaemin.

Now, however, it was nighttime and you were on top of your roof, watching the stars twinkle in their vast environment. Up here no one could stop you from moping.

You didn’t want to lose Jaemin. He was your closest friend. As much as you despised the idea of the prince living with you, now you wouldn’t trade these past weeks for the world.

“You just had to hide somewhere I didn’t know, didn’t you?” Jaemin’s voice brought you out of your reverie.

“What are you doing up?” You asked. He had been asleep when you left.

“Well, I woke up and wanted to see if you would take a walk with me. I guess you’re a step ahead, though.”

“Not quite,” you said, “I’m not walking.”

“Even so, this seems like a nicer option than walking. Do you come up here often?” Jaemin sat beside you, close enough for your shoulders to brush.

“When I want to be alone, this is where I go,” you answered. Then, seeing the recognition on Jaemin’s face, you retracted your statement. “I don’t mind you being here though!”

“Oh, good, because I have something to tell you.”

“What?” You asked, curious as to what he would say.

This could be the last time you ever talked to him. You weren’t sure what the future held, and you were honestly afraid of what was coming.

A small part of your heart didn’t want to admit it, but you weren’t sure you would be able to forget Jaemin easily. He had become your favorite person, and all you could think about was that tomorrow, you would go back to being strangers.

Jaemin sat up and grabbed something out of his back pocket. “Here. I win.”

You caught the box he threw to you and opened it. The black velvet should’ve warned you what was inside, for there was a ring topped with a bright red ruby.

“I found it a few days ago,” Jaemin explained. “Granted, it was at a stall in the marketplace and not inside of a cave. I thought you would like it anyway.”

“I do,” you assured him. “What’s it for?”

Jaemin inhaled nervously, “Well, since I’m leaving tomorrow, I thought about how much I wanted you to remember me. So, if you want, it’s a promise ring. A friendship ring, even. Whatever your comfortable with. This way, you won’t forget me.”

You slipped it over your finger. “I promise Jaemin, I could never forget you.”

“Good,” he said, staring at you as you looked at the ring. “Because I won’t forget you either.”

-

The next morning came quickly, and in a blur.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint the emotion you were feeling as Jaemin climbed into a carriage that would send him back to the castle.

Heartbreak seemed too extreme, and yet it seemed too tame as well.

You held onto the ring as the carriage began to drive down the road.

Please don’t forget me, Jaemin.

~to be continued~

[asbestosghost-blog]

Oh wow, I sure did this. Based on @61below ‘s prompt to @shitty-check-please-aus (”AU where Bitty is gluten-free and Jack is diabetic”). Reposting because I think I botched the tags the first time around. Enjoy all this dessert angst pls~~

Save Room

It was a hard road for both of them, but definitely tougher on Bitty than Jack. Jack would probably eat garbage without complaining if his coaches told him to, but Bitty… he felt responsible. Still feels that way. Jack kept telling him, type 1 is usually genetic - it’s his pancreas, possibly even his parents, but not the pie.

The whole team found out before Jack. He had mentioned having trouble breathing earlier that day, and Ransom had noticed he smelled sweet (chalked it up to pie), but it wasn’t until Jack collapsed unexpectedly on the ice that they put two and two together. Full-blown DKA was the worst symptom of type 1 diabetes, but there it was, and there they were, hauling him into Holster’s car like idiots because the hospital was close enough that they thought they’d beat an ambulance. Bitty cried the entire time, some thick voice in the back of his head repeating over and over again, You did this. You did this to him.

Even after the doctors told him he wasn’t the cause, Bitty still stayed at the hospital until Jack woke up three days later. When his eyes finally started to focus, Bittle was the first thing he saw - crumpled into a plastic chair, static splaying his hair all over the armrest, uncomfortably asleep. Eric seemed to feel the attention and rustled awake, going from grumpy to guilty in the time it took him to lock eyes with Jack. He’s on new levels of ugly cry, still so convinced it’s his fault that he doesn’t even care about how he instantly goes to hold Jack’s hand. It’s sweet, it’s overwhelming, it’s almost a little ridiculous.

“This beats the last time I woke up in a hospital bed,” Jack croaks, cracking a weak smile. He rubs his thumb over Bitty’s palm, and it seems to calm the golden boy down. Bitty leans his forehead on their together-fist, and his sobs quiet into shuddering breaths, then even out to long, meditative breezes over Jack’s knuckles.

“Lord,” he says quietly, a small laugh trembling up his exhausted diaphragm, “save this Canadian fool.”

It takes a week for Jack to get the all-clear to leave the hospital, with a bag full of pamphlets and an insulin pump attached to his stomach. He and Bitty start dating a week later.

Bitty slows down on baking. While his brain understands that Jack is self-control world champion and I did not give him diabetes, he can’t find a way to forgive himself. It doesn’t make sense - of course it doesn’t. But he goes outside his recipes, and it lets him forget. He starts using darker chocolate, uses less sugar in general, indulges in the savory, hunts down non-American desserts.

While Jack appreciates the gesture, he can’t help but notice how tired Bitty looks. The purplish shadow under his eyes seems to get darker every week. During checking practice, it takes less and less force to push him into the boards—he peeks at the scale afterwards, and echoes Bitty’s worried face. “Ten pounds lighter,” he murmurs, and with resignation he hopes aloud that it’s just that he’s baking less.

But then Jack comes home early from class once, and hears Bittle groaning from upstairs. He tracks down his voice—he’s in the bathroom, and he sounds like he’s in real pain. And the smell.

“Jesus, Bits, what did you eat?”

He gets a groan in response. “Pie,” he moans. “Just a little pie, and then this.” Jack can make out the telltale whimpers of Bitty crying; he leans on the bathroom door, despite the smell (beyond asparagus; beyond wine hangover; Jack had never before undergone such an assault). “As if it couldn’t get any worse. I thought it would be done by now…”

Jack’s attention spikes. “Thought what would be done?”

“It’s… it’s nothing, sweetheart, you don’t need to stay here, please…”

“Bits.” He hears a sigh; defeat is what saves him, Jack thinks. “Thought what would be done.”

“I, um…” Starts talking, stops, starts again. “Diarrhea?” he squeaks, embarrassed. “It’s been a week and a half.”

Jack starts dialing his doctor. “Is your insurance card in your wallet?”

“Jack, no!”

“I’m taking you to the hospital. I’ll pick up your co-pay. This isn’t normal,” he says, wandering into Bitty’s room to grab his coat.

An hour later, they’re in the doctor’s office. Jack’s there when the doctor does the physical, when Bitty rattles off his symptoms, trying to laugh through pain so it looks normal. He’s holding Bitty’s hand when they head downstairs to the lab for blood work, and keeps him distracted while the nurse fills three vials from Bitty’s arm. He’s there when the call comes, when Bitty’s face goes white and he stumbles through scheduling an endoscopy. Jack takes him to the hospital for the biopsy, flips through an issue of HGTV without reading it in the waiting room, drives them home, keeps Bitty company while the sedatives wear off.

And when that last call comes, Jack’s not there. He gets a text from Bitty mid-class, and his mind blanks for the rest of the lecture.

They said I have celiac disease.

They’re both in Bitty’s bed, a little worse for wear. Jack kisses Bitty’s head, but the smaller boy is far too trapped in his brain to detect its gentleness. “It’s all gone now,” he sobs. “Have you ever tasted gluten-free desserts?”

Jack kisses away his tears. “I’d eat it if you made it, Bits.”

“Wet sand,” he hisses. “It all just falls apart without flour.” He covers his eyes to try and hold back a new wave of tears. Eric gets that he might be overreacting—bodies are weird, it’s probably genetic, he knows—but it just makes him feel worse about the pie complex he gave himself after Jack’s coma.

Jack just holds him tighter, kissing random spots all over his face. “Put it in perspective. If you hadn’t given me diabetes”—he has to pause to wrestle Bittle, who just belted an incredulous WHAT right in Jack’s face and is definitely attempting to illegally exit this cuddle—“with your dangerous, sugary pies, I wouldn’t be here right now.” He has to pin Bitty’s wrists to the bed to get a good look at his face. “We wouldn’t be here right now. Hell, I could be on some other team, or not in college. It could have happened anywhere. I could have died.”

“Mr. Zimmerman, you are in so much trouble when I get my hands back—“

“And maybe you have to give up wheat flour, but at least you’ve got me, eh?” he says, kissing a soft line down his neck. Bitty reluctantly lets him lace their fingers together, the flesh willing, but the spirit all full of fight.

“And maybe we can go back to the doctor and he’ll let me trade you back in for some, for all the good it does me!” he shouts, high-pitched and trying really really hard not to smile. He bucks his head up far enough to grab Jack’s ear with his teeth, and drags him back into smoochin’ range. Jack never thought someone could kiss petulantly, but that’s the word comes to mind.

“I think I’d let you sell me for flour that doesn’t make you shit yourself. I think I love you that much,” he whispers.

“And maybe I should start making POLENTA with all this CORN YOU’VE GOT—”

“Saints, I wish I had the room to eat it all over again,” Bitty whines.

It’s a month into fall semester, and they’re celebrating both the Falcs win and their sixth-ish-month anniversary. Jack picked the place—a hellishly fancy restaurant in Providence, the kind with just one prix fixe menu a night and no price listed.

The waiter comes around again. “Are we ready for the dessert course? More wine?”

Bitty looks at Jack hesitantly at the word “dessert.” Baking had to take a back seat this year anyway, but he’s lost so much steam (and so many subscribers) fighting a losing battle with gluten-free baking that he declared a moratorium on desserts. It was his lowest moment—he’d never felt less like himself—and the Haus has felt a little hollow ever since. He’s hoping to get I thought we weren’t doing this across with just his eyes, but Jack just smiles back… smugly?

The waiter rattles off the dessert courses as he puts each on the table—a tart, an impossibly thin pie slice, a deconstructed whatsit doused in chocolate shavings. Bitty’s working through his plan to just eat the shavings, when the waiter drops the bomb. “And all gluten-free, as requested.” He turns to Jack and starts commenting on how Chef so appreciates the challenge, but Bitty can’t pay attention anymore.

The tart is in front of him. The tart is in front of him, and it’s a gastrointestinal safe haven. Paradise, possibly. Bitty picks up the dessert fork. Hesitates. Dips it down—the lemon curd (he thinks?) cleaves so neatly, he almost can’t continue. Crust at the bottom—perfect resistance. Spears the sliver with his fork, remembers he’s somewhere nice, barely manages to keep from careening it into his mouth. He sighs.

Jack reaches across the table and strokes his face. “Bits. Are you crying?”

The waiter smiles.

The other half of the surprise comes when Bittle remembers how to talk. “How did you… how is this so…” he gestures at the plate, trying to remember any adjectives. Any descriptors that aren’t “good.”

“Good?” the waiter offers. Bitty sighs, nods, and the waiter laughs. “When you are done, you are invited back to the kitchen.”

Jack laughs as Bitty’s jaw drops, laughs a little harder when Bitty turns to give him an incredulous look that looks like you will be dead when I am done with you, and turns back to the waiter. “Sorry, what?”

“Chef tested out a wide variety of different flours and flour substitutes for tonight’s menu—for the breads, the soup stock, the crust, the desserts themselves, nothing has been wheat. Your dining partner asked for this specifically, and Chef would like to show you what works, and what doesn’t.”

Bitty manages to get his jaw back in line. “Sweetheart. What did you say your name was?”

“Benjamin, sir.”

Bitty stands up, and claps his hand on the waiter’s shoulders. “Benjamin, I am going to send you so much jam.” He pulls Jack up to his feet and drags “his dining partner” with him as Benjamin leads the way into the kitchen.

“How much did you spend to make this happen?” he hisses at Jack, unable to school the smile off his face.

“Thank me later,” Jack whispers, kissing Bitty’s ear. “I’ll save room.”