#they said they tested it and settled on 15. i have no reason to not believe them

[thefirstknife]

Thoughts on the Divinity nerf? It's not as bad as I feared, but I don't like the fact that they used the "trivializes aiming" wording.

Pretty much the same. We knew the nerf was coming, Bungie talked about looking into Divinity long before Salta made a mess on twitter so it was always going to happen. I personally don't think lovering debuff to half (from 30% to 15%) was necessary, but Bungie ran the numbers and settled on that. We won't know the true effect of this until it ships next season so I won't go into speculation on how it will work. Divinity will still very much be useful.

But yeah, the way it was phrased is really grating on me. It was almost word for word what Salta said. Like, it's an obvious reference. That part of Salta's twitter thread was the core issue for me; he framed the conversation around "aim" and "content is too easy" which obviously pissed people off. Had he omitted those arguments, people probably would've mostly been fine with his ideas. But the framing around those arguments turned it very ugly. At best, it's just mocking lower skilled players, at worst it's inciting ableism and gatekeeping.

So seeing that as an argument in the TWAB was ... not good for me. I'm fine with everything else, it went more or less as expected.

I have an idea that Hippy (the community manager that wrote the TWAB) copied Salta's tweet to make a point to the audience on twitter that's been harassing devs again over "not listening to their players" and "only listening to casuals." By copying a tweet from a pro hardcore player, she was able to prove both of those points wrong. The dev harassment got really bad with Eager Edge nerf so.

Or she just copied it without thinking too much of it and Bungie agrees with Salta's overall reasoning. No clue. I definitely would've preferred if they didn't encourage the pervasive idea in gaming that aim is the only thing that matters and that players who have issues with that for whatever reason are lesser, inferior and don't deserve to play games. That sort of thinking always ends up in ableism. I wish Bungie didn't encourage that gatekeepy and exclusionary language.

It's already making a lot of people on twitter posting really ableist comments and gloating and mocking players who are upset or disappointed. But I would also implore people not to imply that Bungie is lying about when they started looking into this (they did NOT nerf Div because of twitter) or that devs don't know what they're doing and we all know better as armchair devs. I've seen people being shitty to devs because of this in the same way people were shitty over Eager Edge.

[whispering-ways]

•☆ミ rain check ☆彡•

♡ summary: you and luffy have a date planned out for the evening, but after a tiring day and a shift in weather, plans change for the better.

♡ pairing: luffy x reader (established relationship)

♡ tags: no warnings, just fluff :)

♡ notes: i'm sorry for taking so long to write a new fic guys! it's my last semester for my bachelor's degree so i've been swamped with grad applications and work for my senior classes. thanks for being patient and i hope you guys like it <3

You were adding the final touches to your makeup when you heard Luffy enter your apartment, his heavy footsteps letting you know he’d come home.

“Y/N?” he called out. “You here?”

“Yeah I’m just getting myself ready in the bedroom,” you respond. He enters and flops down on the bed, looking completely exhausted. “Had a rough day, babe?”

You get only an exasperated sigh in response, which tells you all you need to know. You walked over to the closet, pulling out some heels that you hoped would go well with your outfit.

“You look so pretty. I can’t wait to take you out! It's gonna be awesome! Are you excited for our date?” Luffy asks, beaming at you and turning his head to the side to see you better.

You paused. To be completely honest, it had been a tiring day for you as well and you were truly worn out. You had spent hours conducting tests and repairing lab equipment, leaving you craving nothing more than to unwind.

However, both you and Luffy had been looking forward to this date for months; he was thrilled when you proposed the idea. It didn't feel right to call it off just because you were tired. Besides, you loved spending time with him so you didn’t mind going out even though you were a little beat.

“Yeah, of course, I’m excited! Plus it gives me a reason to get all dolled up for you and you know how I love doing that,” you reply with a soft smile.

With a grunt, Luffy hoisted himself out of bed, shuffling over to you. He envelops you in a hug, resting his head against your neck and kissing just below your ear. You chuckle at the sensation, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before ruffling his hair. “Isn’t it time for someone to start getting ready?” you ask with a smirk.

He let out a deep sigh as he lifted himself off of your shoulder. "Yeah, you're right, babe. Let me just hurry up and get ready. Just give me like 15 minutes, okay?" He said with a cheerful smile, looking down at you lovingly. You press a soft kiss to his lips and head over to the living room to give him some time to get dressed.

You head over to the living room, sinking into the couch as you scroll through your phone while waiting for Luffy. The clunking of his heavy footsteps breaks the silent atmosphere of the room as you send him random videos here and there. However, it didn't take long for that to bore you, so you decided to stretch out to relax.

When a few raindrops began to fall outside of the window, your neck craned up to glance at the dampening window. You mumbled to yourself, "This is the worst time for rain. I'm too tired to get all soaked in the rain."

When Luffy finally finishes getting ready, he steps out into the living room and takes a seat next to you on the couch. "Ready to go sweetheart?" he asks with a grin.

You let out a dramatic sigh as you pull yourself off of the couch to sit upright. Luffy chuckles as he draws you in close, settling into a comfortable silence. You lay your head on his shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace.

Despite being excited to plan the date and enjoying getting dolled up, something about today was just too draining. Hope filled your heart that Luffy would sense something was wrong, but knowing his oblivious nature, you knew that you’d probably have to spell it out for him.

Luffy kissed the top of your head and looked towards the window. Although it’d barely been a couple minutes, the rain seemed to have grown more intense, now leaning towards a heavy storm. "Hey," he inquired, turning his attention back towards your face. "It's raining pretty hard outside, isn't it?"

You rose up, turning to look towards the window as well. You perk up, looking at how bad the rain’s gotten. “Maybe we really will be staying at home,” you thought to yourself as you turned towards Luffy, speaking aloud to him now. "Yeah, the rain is really heavy, isn't it?" You continue with a shrug, adding, "I wonder if our umbrellas will be able to withstand the harsh weather."

Luffy looks at you, noticing the hopeful gaze in your eyes and the way you had now nestled closely to him. He understood precisely what that meant. "Hey," he said, gently resting a hand on your shoulder. "I know we've planned this date out, but do you want to do a rain check? Maybe we should just stay in tonight instead."

You light up like a Christmas tree, but try your best to cover your excitement. “Yeah sure, can we cuddle up and watch a movie or something instead?”

A soft and knowing smile spreads across Luffy’s face as he speaks to you. "Of course babe," he replies, reassuringly. "Just get all cozy in bed, and I'll make some snacks for us. Okay?" His gentle and caring way of speaking makes your heart melt with butterflies, and your face cannot help but break into a grin.

You nod excitedly, rushing to the bedroom to get comfortable. Without hesitation, you change into sweatpants and a t-shirt and then dive back into bed, wrapping yourself tightly in your warmest blankets.

Luffy heads to the kitchen and reaches into the fridge, fetching a box of frozen jalapeno poppers. He tosses a few pieces into the air fryer, then leans against the counter and waits for the familiar chime of the machine to go off. Somewhere in him, Luffy knew that the evening might conclude like this. After dating you for over a year, he knew you like the back of his hand.

When he checked the morning forecast and saw that it was going to rain, he knew that you would want to snuggle up together. Every time it rained, you'd always snuggle up like a cat with your blanket and look for something to unwind so seeing you so excited to relax together was no surprise to him.

However, he also knew that you wouldn't bring it up because you didn't want to disappoint him by canceling the date. But at the end of the day, Luffy didn’t care whether you went out or not; he was just happy that he got to spend time with his favorite person. And to be honest, he was pretty exhausted himself.

The chime of the fryer brings Luffy out of his thoughts. He takes a plate and adds the poppers, along with some ketchup and a few of your preferred spicy chips, before heading into the bedroom.

Your face brightens as soon as you spot Luffy walking in with a plate of food. The movie was already playing when he climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. Enveloped by his warmth, you snuggled closer to him, laying your head on his chest.

You were in pure bliss, with Luffy's body warmth and the softest blankets keeping you perfectly snug. You turned over, grabbing your laptop and gently placing it in between you two along with the plate full of snacks.

After a couple moments of looking through options, you both settled on the latest Puss in Boots movie. You had both come across a few ads about it and talked about watching it, so you and Luffy decided to give it a shot.

A few minutes in showed that it was a good decision. Glancing over at Luffy, you noticed his focused expression as he watched the screen with brows. You turned back to look at the movie, but the only thing you could concentrate on is how happy you were that it started raining.

[topguncortez]

What to Expect | Chapter 15

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: the two of you find out the results of the DNA test. Jake isn't sure if coming back into your life was the right thing to do.

word count: 4.9k

warnings: smut, pregnancy, cursing, questions of paternity, unrequited love, fighting, mentions of infidelity

Miramar, nine months ago 

You didn’t think you’d ever find yourself back in the Hard Deck. At least not by yourself anyway. It had been just a little short of three months since the break-up and moving back to North Island. Your friend from high school, Alyssa, had tried to get you to go out with her on many occasions, but the pain in your chest stopped you from going. You knew that it would but unlikely that you would run into him, but even the slightest possibility made your chest start to hurt. But here you are tonight, out celebrating Alyssa’s birthday at the Hard Deck, feeling your heartbeat pick up a bit at the sight of any Naval aviator walking through the door. 

“You need to stop stressing,” Alyssa said, coming up to you and placing two shots in front of you. 

“And you think shots are the way to do it?” You asked and Alyssa nodded, pushing the small glasses towards you. 

“Loosen up, babe. Your wound tighter than a virgin.” 

“Who’s a virgin?” 

Now that was a voice that you didn’t expect to hear tonight. You looked over your shoulder to see none other than Bradley Bradshaw standing there wearing a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt and his sunglasses on his eyes. You smiled as you turned to give him a hug. You hadn’t seen him since he made the flight up to Lemoore to help you bring all your stuff back down. 

Bradley was never a fan of your relationship with Jake. He was always weary of it, waiting and watching for the moment when Jake would inevitably fuck up, and then Bradley would swoop in. But when Jake showed Bradley the ring he had gotten you, Bradley knew that there was nothing in this world that was going to stop you from becoming Mrs. Jake Seresin. When Bradley got the facetime call from you, he expected to hear cries of joy and to see you flashing that almost too big diamond in his face. Except he was met with your tear stained face and you begging Bradley to explain what happened on the Uranium Mission. He wasn’t going to tell you all the details about, you were never supposed to know, but seeing you in such pain, Bradley was going to tell you until you asked him about “the girl Jake was with” and he knew right away this was more than just about flying. 

“I missed you,” You said as Bradley hugged you back. 

“I missed you too,” He said and kissed the top of your head, “How are you settling in?” 

“I’m staying with my parents, how do you think?” You deadpanned and Bradley laughed. He knew you loved your parents and always looked forward to visiting from Lemoore, but moving back in with them was a different story. 

“Well isn’t this reunion just fun!” Alyssa said, “Maybe you can coax her into doing shots with me, Bradshaw?” 

Alyssa got along surprisingly well with Bradley. At first, you thought that she maybe even had a thing for him, but she assured you that Bradley did not have the right parts to attract her. The two of them were like bonus siblings, and even argued like it. Alyssa was like the devil on your shoulder, always encouraging you to do something stupid like hop the pool fence at the country club, while Bradley was the voice of reason and the one who would talk to cops out of not fining you with trespassing. 

“Come on, Bug! Don’t be such a stiff,” Bradley said and pushed the shots closer to you. 

“Just these two!” You said, “No more after this!” 

You wish that those words had been the truth. And you wished that you would’ve taken a shot of anything else but tequila. You should’ve known that Alyssa was going to give you tequila shots, the girl could drink it like it was water. You, on the other hand, felt tipsy after just those two shots. The night was a blur as you drank with Bradley and Alyssa, going from the Hard Deck to another bar not far away from base. The only reason you had ventured out was because you told them you wanted to go dancing, and Penny was not about to let you dance on top of the bar. 

“Ya know,” You shouted over the music as you danced with Bradley, “I’ve always had a thing for you.” Your words were slurred and your eyes a bit bleary as you threw your arms around Bradley’s neck. He chuckled as he rested his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. 

“I know you did,” Bradley said back, “It was obvious. Had my own little fan club at age thirteen.” 

“Oh shut it,” You playfully shoved him, but Bradley just pulled you right back into him. It was some overplayed pop song bursting through the speaker, something that neither you nor Bradley listened to. But the bass from the speakers seemed to push you two together and you found yourself grinding your ass against Bradley’s front. 

“Didn’t know you could dance like this?” Bradley said, his hot breath fanning over your neck and shoulders. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” You said back, tilting your head to rest against his shoulder. You had never noticed the different colors of brown in his eyes until this moment. You could see the lighter strands of gold and brown reflecting from the lights in the bar. You reached your hand up, your fingers running gently over the scars on his cheek. You could remember the day he got them, and how he said they made him seem ugly, but you told him that they made him unique. Gave him more of a story to talk about. 

Blame it on the alcohol or the liquid courage in your body, as you leaned up to kiss Bradley. It had both taken you by surprise, a gasp leaving his lips, but he quickly recovered. He turned you around to face him, so he could kiss you properly, his hands roaming your body and pulling you in, as if it were possible, closer. Your hands tangled in his brown locks, feeling the soft curls between your fingers. You could feel the hardening of his cock against you, and pulled away breathlessly. 

“I’m so sorry,” Bradley said, “I shouldn’t have-” you cut off his apology by kissing him again. 

“Bradley,” You said against his lips. You looked up at him, seeing his big brown eyes blown with lust, his lips red from the kiss. You pulled him in close again, “I need you.” 

Bradley nodded and kissed you again, “You got me, sweetheart.” 

— — — 

It had been two days since Jake saw the letter that held the results of the paternity test. It was three days of radio silence throughout the whole house. He wouldn’t leave, despite every molecule in his body telling him that he should. He didn’t want to leave in case you went into labor early or something else were to happen. You still hadn’t opened the envelope. It sat crumbled on top of your dresser where Jake had left it. 

You expected him to yell at you when you told him about sleeping with Bradley a week before you slept with him, but he didn’t. Instead, he just looked at you with disappointment in his eyes, and left your bedroom quietly. He went down to his own and locked the door so you wouldn’t come in and try to talk to him. And that’s how it has been every night. He would come home from work, help you make dinner, sit and eat with you in awkward silence, help you clean up and then go to his room for the night. 

It was painful. The whole thing was absolutely painful. You wish he would get mad at you. You wished he would yell or slam the doors or do something other than give you the silent treatment. This was worse than any fight that you two could’ve had. It was worse because you didn’t know what he was thinking. Maybe he was thinking that Rooster was right, and he should’ve just sent money and stayed away from you. Maybe he was thinking his father was right and he should’ve had the test done a long time again. Or maybe he was thinking about it when he said he’d take you to court and fight you for custody. You gulped as you thought of the mess that could lead to. Courtrooms, and lawyers, and tears, and even more pain. And it was all because you couldn’t just let things be. 

By the third night of sleeping alone, you had had enough. You had gotten used to Jake's presence next to you and hearing his loud snoring. Herc had taken the spot that Jake used to lay, and as much as you loved the dog, you needed Jake’s body next to yours. You huffed as you pushed yourself up, slipping on your robe and slippers as you walked down the hall towards his room. His door was shut and you knew that it was probably locked but you knocked anyway. 

“Jake!” You said, knocking on his door, “Can you open the door please? We need to talk.” You could hear shuffling from the other side of the door, and you peered down to see that the light was still on, “I know you’re awake!” You knocked again, “Please, this is important.” There was more shuffling and you were starting to grow annoyed as you knocked harshly again on the door, “Open the fucking-” 

“What do you want?” Jake asked as he ripped the door open. You suddenly felt small looking at him. His body was bare save for his boxers, his hair was messy and his eyes were red as if he had been crying. 

“I want to talk to you,” You said and Jake scoffed, “Please.” 

“No,” Jake said and went to shut the door on you, but you held your hand out stopping it, “Go back to bed.” 

“I can’t sleep,” You admitted, “You are the only one who seems to be able to get her to calm down at night, and I need you.” 

“Yeah? Or do you need Rooster to come talk to his kid,” That hurt more than it needed to. Jake felt immediate guilt when the words left his mouth but he couldn’t show that, so instead he clenched his jaw and stared at you as tears welled up in your eyes. 

“I said I was sorry,” Your voice cracked as you spoke, “I never meant for this to happen at all! The paternity test wasn’t supposed to break-” 

“Then why did you do it?” Jake asked the question that had been lingering between the two of you for days: why? Why did you sleep with Rooster? Why did you sleep with Jake? Why hadn’t you told Jake about this sooner? Why did you get the test done at all? There were so many why’s but you didn’t have any of the answers. But you gave Jake the best one you could think of. 

“Because I don’t want you to waste your time,” You answered truthfully and Jake sighed. 

“I wouldn’t be wasting my time, and I haven’t wasted any time,” Jake said, “We were both better off living in blissful ignorance than knowing at all.” 

He was right. The thought that this baby might be anything but Jake’s had only crossed your mind once, very early on in your pregnancy, but until a couple weeks ago, you never doubted it. But now, as the results sat in the room down the hall, you were doubting every single thing. You were angry at yourself for not knowing sooner and possibly depriving one man of important milestones and time during your pregnancy. 

“But, since you opened that can of worms. . . I can’t sleep either,” Jake said, “I can’t sleep knowing that this baby might not be mine, and that the father isn’t here. It’ll fucking suck and hurt worse than any injury I have ever had, but if it is his, you can’t deprive Rooster of any time he has left before the baby is born.” 

“I’m scared to open it,” You reached into the pocket of your robe and held out the letter. Jake hadn’t seen it since he nearly tore it to pieces in his hand. He frowned as he reached out and took it from your hands. You followed him wordlessly into the guest room and sat down on the bed. You looked down at the floor as Jake tore the letter open and unfolded it. 

His green eyes searched over the words in bold letters. 

‘Y/N KAZANSKY’ 

PATERNAL DNA RESULT: 

BRADLEY J. BRADSHAW: NEGATIVE MATCH’ 

Jake felt like the air had reentered his lungs as he looked at the results. The baby wasn’t Bradley’s, the baby was truly Jake’s. He felt like celebrating, but then he saw the look of fear on your face, and he handed you the letter to read for yourself. You gasped and then looked up at Jake, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“I’m so-” 

“It’s okay,” Jake said cutting you off, “Now we know, and I can tell my father that we have the results,” Everything coming out of Jake’s mouth sounded so formal, so unlike the man you had started to fall in love with all over again, “Do you need anything else?” 

“N-No,” You shook your head. 

“Then can you please leave my room so I can get some sleep? I have to be up early for work.” 

You felt like crying all over again as you stood up from the bed and walked past Jake, not saying anything to him. You thought that once you had the results things would go back to normal between the two of you, but you were wrong. Jake clenched his jaw as you shut the door, and he sat down in the same spot you occupied. He wasn’t sure what to feel. Sure, he was angry that you had done the test without his knowledge. He was mad at his dad for even suggesting that the baby was anyones but his. And he was mad that you had hooked up with Bradley, and never said anything. 

The two of you were broken up during that time, and you were free to do what you want with who you wanted. Jake couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t hook up with a few women after you left Lemoore. But he was also spending every night coming home to an empty house and crying himself to sleep. He was taking every single mission that he could, flying like he was not afraid to not make it back home, and filling his liver with enough alcohol to probably start a house fire. It was his fault that you had left due to a lie that he had factored up in his mind because he was scared to take the next step. But he didn’t know that it had pushed you right into the arms of a man he was always jealous of. 

Jake thought it was dumb to be jealous of Bradley Bradshaw. The man didn’t have hardly anything to be jealous of. His parents were dead, he didn’t have a family, he had hardly even had a name for himself outside of the Navy. Bradley would probably have to serve his whole career in the Navy to have a good retirement, but Jake. . . Jake could walk away tomorrow and be just fine. But what Jake was jealous of was the way Bradley had always fit so comfortably in your life. Bradley knew the right things to say, the right things to do. Jake always felt like he was stumbling in the dark when it came to you. 

But the anger that Jake was feeling was slowly starting to subside. The results of the question that had been running through your minds for the last week or so had been answered. There was no more speculating, no more wondering. He was having a daughter with you. He was going to be a father in a number of weeks. But why wasn’t he feeling joy or happiness? 

— — — 

“I didn’t think he wanted to do anything for his birthday?” Alyssa asked as you walked down the aisles at Target. You were looking for a gift to get Jake. Something that would say ‘I'm sorry I slept with my best friend and didn’t tell you that you might not be the father of the baby, but now we know that you are’. Things were still awkward at the house, and it was starting to give you anxiety even thinking about going home. 

“He doesn’t,” You said, looking at some random wallet, “But it’s his 30th birthday, it’s a big deal.” 

“He’s still not talking to you?” 

You sucked in a breath and turned to look at her, “I don’t know what to do.” Your voice cracked and Alyssa moved quickly to hug you. It had been weeks since you had been hugged, and you didn’t realize you were touch starved until this moment. You cried into Alyssa’s shoulder as she rubbed your back, shushing your cries and glaring at the people walking by. 

“It’s okay,” Alyssa said. 

“It’s not okay!” You cried, “God, why do I have to fuck everything up!?” 

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Alyssa said and pulled back from you. She reached into her purse and handed you a kleenex, “Should you have not slept with two men in a span of two weeks? Probably not. But at least you are doing the right thing. Have you told Bradley?” 

You nodded, “He’s not upset as I thought he would be. He never thought it was his anyway. I was actually smart then and we used a condom. He said he checked it for leaks and there weren’t any but he was willing to do it to help me get some peace of mind.” 

“Well at least you have him,” Alyssa grabbed your hand, “Jake is so stupidly in love with you and this baby, that this is not going to deter him from getting the final goal.” 

“And what is that?”

“You. Y/N, he wants you. He wants this baby. He wants his family. It’s all he’s ever wanted in life. He was just too blind and scared to see it.” 

You looked down at your belly, seeing it move from the baby kicking. Your mom said the other day it looked like you had started to drop, and you could feel the baby sitting lower in your hips. Your due date was still about two weeks away, but you knew that really didn’t mean much. Babies came when they were ready, due date or not. 

Alyssa was right, all Jake had ever wanted in life was a family of his own. His own family was crap. His father was a cold heartless monster, and his mother was not much better. His sisters hardly talked to him unless it was around the holidays and they were sending their kids’ Christmas lists. He had found solace and comfort within your family. Your parents welcomed him the very first time they met him. Your siblings, even Gia, got along with him. Every holiday, every vacation, every birthday for the past five years, Jake had spent with the Kazanskys. He wanted a family of his own, just like yours. 

“What do I do, Ally?” You asked and she smiled sadly at you. 

“You let him come to you, when he’s ready,” Alyssa said, “He’s still scared of his own shadow. You can’t corner a scared dog. Now come on, I think I know the perfect gift to give him.” 

— — — 

Jake was not feeling up to drinks tonight. He just wanted to stay at home and relax. Maybe find a baseball game on TV to watch or find a book to read. For the last week you had been avoiding each other by staying on opposite ends of the house. If you were in the nursery folding clothes or moving things around, Jake was down stairs in the living room or kitchen. If you were in the kitchen or living room, Jake would be up in his room. The only time you ever saw each other was in the morning, at night, or at your doctor's appointments with doctor Miller. You had your final check up the other day, and she said you were on track to hopefully deliver within the next week on the 15th, which would be Jake’s actual birthday. 

“I don’t want to be here,” Jake said to Phoenix as she dragged him by his wrist up the stairs, “Why are you making me be here?” 

“Because my girlfriend spent her hard time and money with your girlfriend trying to make this special for you,” Phoenix said. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jake said coldly and Phoenix nodded. 

“Okay, well, Y/N wanted to do something special for you,” Phoenix corrected herself, “Since we probably won’t be able to celebrate on your actual birthday. . .” She opened the door to the Hard Deck and Jake’s eyes widened in surprise as his close friends all shouted ‘Happy Birthday’ as he walked in. 

“Holy shit,” Jake smiled as he looked at the banner that hung from the rafters and the streams and balloons around the place, “This for me?” 

“Yeah,” You said, taking a step forward, “You only turn thirty once!” 

Jake just nodded at you, not saying a word and going to greet his friends. You clenched your jaw as you tried to pretend that that didn’t hurt. You turned to see Alyssa and Phoenix looking at you with sadness in your eyes, but you just shook it off. This night was about Jake and celebrating him, you were not about to make it about you. You pushed your feelings aside, and plastered a smile on your face as you walked over to where Stephanie and Coyote’s girlfriend were talking. 

You weren’t sure how Jake managed to ignore you the whole night, but he had managed to do it. You were sitting at a table with Alyssa, Phoenix and Stephanie, hardly listening to a word they said and twirling your stray around in your iced tea as you watched Jake and his friends laugh around the pool table. You also noticed that there was a blonde girl who kept hanging around Jake the whole time. If you weren’t trying to just lay low and get through the night, you would have stormed over there and pulled her off of him. But instead, you swallowed down your jealousy feelings and stayed on the other side of the Hard Deck. 

“I need to get some air,” You said, and stood up from the table. You thought your movement went unnoticed, as the Hard Deck was packed with people, but two sets of eyes followed your frame through the crowd and out the door. 

“Bagman,” Coyote said, and Jake broke his eye contact, “Your move.” 

The night air was cool and you could smell the salt water from the back deck. The moon was high in the sky, giving a very dim light. You thought about going to sit down by the water, but you weren’t sure if you would be able to get back up by yourself. So, you are stuck with standing and watching the waves crash. 

“Are you okay?” A voice said from behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see your father. 

“I’m fine,” You said and looked back to the ocean. 

Iceman sighed, and walked towards you, leaning against the railing and looking out at the sea. He liked the ocean as much as you did. He was always thankful that he got to be stationed near the ocean during his career. He would probably go crazy if he lived in a landlocked state. 

“You don’t have to tell a lie to protect him,” Iceman said, and you felt your throat start to get thick with tears, “I won’t take it out on him, I promise.” 

You looked from the waves to your dad, your eyes wet with tears, “I messed up.” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Iceman said, and pulled you into his chest. You felt like you were a little kid again, crying on your dad’s shoulder after Gia had pushed you off your bike or Dylan ate the last cookie. Iceman rubbed your back as you cried, not saying anything but trying to calm your tears. Ice rested his chin on top of your head and just held you until you stopped crying. 

Jake could see you in your father’s arms from his spot in the Hard Deck. It broke his heart to see you like this, and it was because of his own doing. He had too much pride in his body to go to you and apologize for how he has been acting. At first, he thought his actions were justified. That ignoring you for going behind his back and getting a DNA test done and finding out that you slept with Bradley while you were broken up was okay. But he had slowly been watching the light in your eyes diminish over the week. Doctor Miller was very concerned about you at your last check-up. She was in fact so concerned that she thought about sending you up to the L&D floor for monitoring, but you assured her that you were just fine and needed to go home to rest. 

“I should’ve told you,” Bradley said, walking up to Jake. Jake was leaning on the farthest wall in the Hard Deck, several feet away from the crowd around the pool table. Coyote was trying to set up his shot for him and Payback. He bet Alyssa and Phoenix that they couldn’t beat them, and even threw some money in the game. 

“It’s fine,” Jake said and took a sip of his coke. He wasn’t drinking, hasn’t been for weeks. Every time he came to the Hard Deck he would order a coke, or Bob’s favorite, a shirley temple. 

“No, it’s not fine,” Bradley sighed and leaned against the wall next to Jake, “I never thought it could be mine. Ever. And I don’t think she did until your father said something. I honestly think she forgot we even slept together. We were so wasted that-” 

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Jake asked, cutting him off, “Sorry. I just don’t want to hear about you and my ex-girlfriend.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bradley said, and took a deep breath, “I don’t agree with her not telling you, I just think that this whole thing has blind sided her and she just never thought of it again. But at least she has done the right thing. She told you, and she found the truth. A truth she never doubted for a second, by the way.” 

Jake nodded and then looked at Bradley, “You would’ve made a better father than me.” 

Bradley scoffed, “Are you kidding? I don’t know the first thing about being a dad. Mine kicked the bucket before I was even out of pull-ups.” 

Jake chuckled, “Yeah, but you had a mom who cared. You have that ‘feminine touch’ or whatever the fuck. I’m too. . . I’m gonna fuck this kid up somehow, I just know it. I sometimes wonder if I made the right choice in coming back to her life.” 

Bradley furrowed his eyebrows, “You’re not going to walk, are you?” Jake hung his head in guilt and Bradley stood up straight, turning his body so he was square with Jake, “You are not going to walk out on her now, are you?” 

“Maybe it’s for the-” 

Bradley cut Jake off by delivering a punch to his jaw. Jake groaned and stumbled a bit, but he recovered quickly and glared at Bradley. He grabbed his wrist and pulled him outside of the Hard Deck, away from all the awestruck stares. 

“What the fuck!?” Jake yelled, once they were outside. 

“You are not going to walk out on them! How could you even think that!?” 

“I don’t know!” Jake ran his hands through his hair, “I don’t know what to do! I’m fucked up, Bradley! I forgive her but I can't say it to her face. I don't stay when things like this happen. That’s my fucking thing, I’m the Hangman, I leave people hanging. This kid has a better chance without me in its life.” 

“Then go,” Your voice was soft, but loud enough that Jake could hear it. He closed his eyes and turned around to see you standing there, your hands cradling your bump, “I know what I did was wrong, and I am so sorry, Jake. But if this is you preparing to leave without so much as an explanation. . . then do it. Go, Jake. You’re off the hook.” 

“I don’t want to be,” Jake called out to you, “I don’t want to be off the hook. I don’t want to leave you either. Am I pissed about Bradshaw? Yeah, I am, but that’s not enough to send me running,” Jake walked up to you, and placed his hands on your belly, “I am not running. I am not leaving her. So please, Y/N. . . let me stay.”

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TAG LIST IS FULL DO NOT ASK TO BE TAGGED

note: as of right now, there's only ONE chapter left and I'm sad

[mikavlcs]

I really really loved dog days, it was so frickin cute, and the whole Wednesday critiquing her poem was so funny, but i gotta know, did yoko tell ppl about yn being 'pregnant' before they found out about the puppy? Or did only weems and her roommate know? I'd just love to see what would have happened if yoko said about yn telling her she's pregnant while Wednesday is around, orrrr her telling enid, so of course this is huge gossip for her and has to tell her roommate.

hello hi, i don't know if you were asking for a drabble but...i honestly couldn't resist writing this one out LMAO. hope you don't mind, it's just such a funny concept to me. thanks for the ask, i would have never thought about this otherwise 😭🙏

fair warning, this is RIDICULOUS and i wrote it in exactly 16 minutes in the middle of class

Dog Days

—

Afternoons in the Nevermore library were quiet.

Aside from the occasional disturbance from shamelessly horny students, it was barren, so silent you could hear the clack of the librarian's keyboard echo clear from even the farthest corner of the room.

This innate desolation made it the preferred meeting place for both you and Wednesday to work on projects.

And a project was precisely the reason why you were there now. Granted, you intentionally arrived early to get in some reading time. Your roommate kindly offered to dogsit Choklit, and well, you certainly weren’t going to turn down the opportunity to read without having to worry about a small animal ruining yet another pair of your socks.

But you knew Wednesday would be there by the allotted meeting time. You’d done this enough times to know that she was never late.

As expected, she showed up at 4:15 on the dot, striding over and putting her bag down on the table as she settled into the chair next to you. While she readied her materials, you organized your worksheets, wholly unprepared for the bomb she was about to drop.

“Are you pregnant?”

The question was so far out of left field that you jumped in your seat, loudly hitting your knee on the underside of the table. The librarian sent you a look. Groaning, you sent her an apologetic wave while you rubbed your aching knee.

Once she looked back at her computer, you whipped your head over to Wednesday so fast that it made your neck hurt.

“What?”

Wednesday, for her part, didn’t miss a beat. “I asked if you were pregnant.”

“No!” you exclaimed; eyes still wide. “Where the hell did you hear that?”

“Enid told me that Yoko told her that you were pregnant with a demon baby.” She said it so matter-of-factly that you nearly laughed.

“I—demon baby??”

“Yes, Yoko said it was thrashing violently in your womb, thus leading her to believe that the fetus was a demon.”

A series of choked, near-maniacal laughs escaped at that. Because this was pure, unadulterated insanity—it had to be a ploy or some weird practical joke that the smaller girl was trying to pull on you. But when you looked at her, you were met with dead eyes, an impassive expression, and expectant raised brows.

She was being dead serious.

Your laughter died down, mouth parting in disbelief. You sighed, brought up a hand to message your temple.

“Wednesday, no. I’m not pregnant. Seriously, do I look pregnant to you?”

Her eyes dropped to your stomach and narrowed as if she was genuinely trying to calculate an answer to your question. “No, I suppose not.”

“Exactly!” you whisper-yelled, “because I’m not.”

“Are you sure?”

You stared at her, dumbfounded. “…Yes??”

“Yoko seemed very convinced,” she supplemented neutrally. Your eye twitched. Yoko’s immortality was going to be put to the test very, very soon.

“Well, Yoko was wrong,” you assured her with a grim, strained smile, and you leaped at the chance to change the subject. “Now, can we actually start our project?”

For a moment, you thought she would say no and force you to continue this conversation from hell, but she nodded, dragging her eyes over your abdomen suspiciously one last time before flipping open her textbook.

With that, you were left to ponder what had just happened and whether your sanity had finally abandoned you. And you did, for a solid sixty-seven seconds. But you couldn’t just sit there all day. Despite the bizarre interruption, you had a project to work on.

You took a deep breath, cursing Choklit’s terrible timing a final time, then forced yourself to focus on the worksheets, determined not to make this afternoon any more embarrassing than it already had been.

Needless to say, you and Yoko were going to have a very lengthy, entirely civil discussion about friend-to-friend confidentiality and spreading harmful rumors.

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (19/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.2k

More of Feyre settling into her place in the Night Court and understanding exactly what it means to be Lady of Night. Some dialogue and text is lifted directly from A Court of Mist and Fury.

Read on AO3 or you can find the nineteenth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11 - she underestimated just who she was stealing from | ch. 12 - no amount of freedom gets you clean | ch. 13 - stay stay stay | ch. 14 - call it what you want to | ch. 15 - even when you're sleeping, keep your eyes open | ch. 16 - you drew stars around my scars | ch. 17 - do you remember all the city lights on the water? | ch. 18 - and it smells like me | ch. 19 - your mom's ring in your pocket

The next morning, I ate breakfast standing in the space between Rhys's back and his wing, peering over his shoulder as we both read the latest report from Azriel. The spymaster's words were short and to the point—I understood most of it, and Rhys answered my questions about what I didn't.

The conclusions were clear enough. Despite Azriel's extensive network of informants, there was no new evidence of the attackers' identity, and the Cesere trove had been completely looted. Nothing had turned up for sale on the black market. And strangely, a complete accounting of whatever had been inside of the temple was impossible to find. No survivors meant nothing but dead ends.

I was still finishing my tea when Amren arrived with a stack of books that was nearly half her height. Slips of paper with handwritten notes were shoved between the pages of all of them, and some of the titles were in languages I didn't recognize.

Amren dropped the stack unceremoniously onto the kitchen table. "Research. As requested before you leave for Illyria, Rhysand."

"Research on what?" I said.

"On you, girl. And whatever power has been thrumming in your veins since you were Made."

I downed the last of my tea—I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about whatever remnant of the Great Rite still lived within me. It was something I tried not to think about. In the past couple of months, I'd gotten used to ignoring it, though the echo was still constant.

"And I assume you found something, or we wouldn't be having this conversation," Rhys said.

"I have theories, but books aren't enough to prove anything—we'll have to run tests."

I set down my empty cup, and Rhys rested a hand on my lower back. If Amren hadn't been there, I would have leaned into his touch.

"We don't have time for dramatics today. Please explain," Rhys said, and it was the closest anyone, even a High Lord, ever got to barking an order at her. From the way Rhys stood a hair closer to me than usual, I could tell it stemmed from protective instinct.

"Feyre has been claimed by the Night Court, and she's mated to its High Lord. It stands to reason that she's a creature of Night. But at the same time, her Making was a boon from Spring Court magic after taking Tamlin's place in the Great Rite. She may be…something else entirely."

An oily knot of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. "If Tamlin thinks I stole power from him and swore fealty to Rhys on Calanmai…" I said.

Perhaps being the Cursebreaker wouldn't be enough to keep Tamlin from hunting me and seeking revenge if he thought I'd worked against him. Saving all of Prythian might not matter in the face of the feud between Night and Spring.

Rhys let out a low growl. He must have been thinking along the same lines.

"Agreed," Amren said with a curt nod in his direction, "and because treasure troves with objects from both Spring and Night are few and far between, it's time to stop stalling. You have a promise to keep."

"Find another method," Rhys said. Darkness began to leak from him, the inky whorls stretching in my direction. Tendrils wound around my arm but didn't squeeze.

"Feyre has to go claim it anyway."

"She's already proven more than enough."

"Spare me, Rhysand. We all know what you were thinking when you put that bargain tattoo on her finger."

A muscle feathered in Rhys's jaw. Amren rolled her eyes.

"Tell me what you're talking about this before this comes to blows," I snapped, shrugging Rhys's hand off my back.

When he glamoured me, Rhys kept the bargain tattoo visible on my ring finger now that we were back in the Night Court. He'd never actually promised me that the morning after Calanmai wouldn't be the last time we saw each other, so it had never faded. In truth, I'd grown a bit fond of it. But if there was something I hadn't been told about it…

Amren looked at Rhys, and there was something almost amused about the way the silver in her eyes swirled. He took a deep breath, clearly gathering himself. I crossed my arms and waited.

"There's a ring," Rhys said, and each word sounded as if it were ripped out of him. "An heirloom of my family, passed down from female to female. My sister wasn't born yet, so my mother gave it to me when I was a boy. A reminder that she was always with me, even during the worst of my training, and I safeguarded it with preserving spells, the way our kind do for anything valuable. When I reached my majority, she took the ring away and gave it to an ancient, wicked creature called the Weaver, who added it to the collection of treasures she amassed over millennia."

A hoard of spelled objects from all over Prythian, the perfect setting to test what magic matched the echo still within me. Assuming, of course, that I could avoid the monster guarding it.

There was one aspect of it I couldn't quite follow. "Why would your mother give it away?"

Amren's answering serpentine smile made my blood run cold, though I doubted the look that Rhys shot her in response could have been any more murderous.

"Another test. If I were to marry or mate, then the female would either have to be smart or strong enough to get the ring back. And if she wasn’t either of those things, then she wouldn’t survive the marriage. I promised my mother that any potential bride or mate would have to pass, but I think if she were still here…she'd agree that you've already done more than enough."

I froze. And nearly forgot to breathe until I blurted out, "A wedding ring?"

My wedding ring, really. It sounded so human. Rhys was my mate, my soul-bonded partner—husband didn't even begin to cover it.

"Yes, but you're under no obligation to—"

I cut him off; a horrible thought had just occurred to me, and I needed to ask, even though Amren was growing impatient. "You— You haven't…sent someone after it before me, have you?"

"Cauldron, no," he said, horrorstruck. I felt a bit better, though, knowing that there wasn't some poor female who'd died attempting to marry Rhys a few centuries before I was born.

"And this isn't— You're not…proposing?"

For a moment, Rhys just stared at me with the wide-eyed expression I'd last seen Under the Mountain when I'd told him I was nineteen. Amren rapped her nails against the table.

But a pounding against the front door saved him from having to answer my question. Cassian, Azriel, and Mor had arrived, and there were more urgent matters at hand. The door unlocked with a gesture from Rhys, and Amren muttered something about leashing his dogs as we made our way to the sitting room.

Cassian wasted no time reporting on everything he'd learned about the rogue war-bands—their numbers, their movements through the forest, who in Windhaven sympathized with them. I wasn't familiar enough with Illyria to follow all of it. But I still listened carefully, waiting for a chance to suggest I go with.

The conversation turned to exactly what to do with the ringleaders. It was obvious enough that they couldn't be allowed to live, not after they'd supported Amarantha. Killing them in woods would be most efficient. But it would be out of the public eye, a missed opportunity to send a message, albeit a bloody one.

Perhaps it was the question of how to claim my wedding ring still being fresh in my mind, but a thought struck me. It might have been ridiculous—I wasn't entirely sure what sort of creature the Weaver even was—but it seemed worth considering.

"If we need to make a statement to keep control of Illyria," I said, cutting in, "then we could give them to the Weaver and kill two birds with stone."

Five pairs of eyes landed on me, all with naked shock.

Rhys was the first to smile. "Are you suggesting that we allow a death-god to eat a few rogue Illyrians in exchange for the return of your wedding ring?"

I couldn't tell if he was mocking me—it did sound ridiculous when he put it like that. In truth, I didn't care enough about the ring that I was willing to kill for it, but the Illyrians who'd gleefully bowed to Amarantha would be put to death anyway. And years of hunting had taught me to wring every last ounce of utility from a kill.

I lifted my chin. "Amarantha refused to free her human slaves. I'm the Night Court's resident human. What better way to punish them for supporting her than turning them over to me?"

Azriel's brows flicked up in approval. After our conversation in the training ring yesterday, the sight of it made me feel a bit more sure of myself.

"If we're cracking a few wing bones, Feyre might as well get a turn," Cassian said. Breaking an Illyrian's wing bones—ideally leaving enough jagged edges to tear holes in the membrane—was one of their most severe punishments, I'd learned, a favored way of preventing prisoners from escaping to the skies.

"It's Illyria, not Velaris, so word will get out, which we can spin in our favor. Distaste for slavery instead of petty revenge against those who supported the bitch who made Rhys her—" Mor said, choking back that last word with a grimace. Her throat bobbed. "The bitch who hurt him."

"I'll never be offended by you telling the truth. Even about that," Rhys said softly.

On the other side of the sofa, Mor took his hand and squeezed it. "No one reasonable would fault you for slaughtering your rapist's supporters. But for the unreasonable ones…it's also true that involving Feyre could help dispel the rumors that Prythian's savior is a pawn you intend to discard."

"Assuming the Weaver is willing to bargain, it's not a bad plan," Azriel said.

"Hell of an assumption, though," Cassian added. He crossed his arms, the siphons on his hands glinting in the sunlight streaming in through the window.

My eyes slid to Rhys—I had their support, but as High Lord, this would be his call. If he wanted me to stay out of it and find another way to get the ring…I'd understand.

"All of it is your choice, Feyre. If you don't want to risk leaving Velaris, no one will force you," Rhys said.

I hadn't thought of it like that. I'd been so prepared to prove myself useful, ready to argue that a human wouldn't slow the rest of them down or get in the way. But Rhys's concern was the burden it placed on me.

Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised—after Calanmai, he'd told me that if nothing else, I needed to understand there was a target on my back. I was safe behind Velaris's wards, hidden away in an untouched city like a gem in a vault.

No one would blame me for staying behind. I'd nearly lost my life countless times since Tamlin dragged me over the Wall, and continuing to push my luck might be a bit…insane.

But when Rhys's mother had left that ring with the Weaver, it had been a message. The test wasn't about whether I was worthy of her son—after all, the Cauldron itself had matched us—but rather a statement about what it meant to share your life with the High Lord of the Night Court, hard-won wisdom wrapped up in a challenge she'd designed to outlive her when the worst came to pass.

Lady of the Night Court wasn't just a title…it was a mantle to take on.

"I'm not shying away from any of it. I'll go," I said.

There was a flicker of pride down the bond, identical to the one I'd felt the first time I'd landed a hit to Rhys's jaw. And apparently he wasn't the only one who felt that way—from where he'd been leaning against the doorway, Cassian reached over and mussed my hair. I hissed, batting his hand away.

"Send your mate and your dogs out to the yard if they insist on playing, Rhysand. The adults still have matters to discuss," Amren said.

Cassian's smile turned predatory. "Amren, if you wanted to play—"

"Can we not?" Mor said with a groan. "We're supposed to be working."

To his credit, Cassian said nothing after that, just smoothed my bangs back into place apologetically. Rhys watched for a moment, expression soft, before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

Amren had a point; there was plenty to plan with Rhys being away from Velaris for a while, the priestesses still in need of support, and more information about the state of disarray in other courts filtering in daily. We were at it for a while, making plans and setting priorities.

It was another early night, followed by another early morning.

For the first time since Calanmai, I strapped a quiver to my back, a hunting knife to my thigh, and slung a bow over one shoulder. The familiar weight made my stomach churn. Even though I'd eaten breakfast, fear that the food would run out came roaring back, and for a moment, I felt as if I were still starving in the winter woods.

I forced myself to breathe. That part of my life was over. I wouldn't let it get the best of me now.

Dawn was breaking when I met Rhys in the foyer. His wings were still too weak to manage the long-haul flight from Velaris to Illyria—we'd winnow most of the way, then land. With the bow and quiver, it was a bit awkward, but Rhys scooped me up in his arms easily.

My unease disappeared, so quickly that for a moment I thought he might have pushed past my shields and slashed it with a talon. But no, I just…felt better with Rhys holding me. The scales of his leathers brushed my cheek as I pressed myself closer.

I felt a rumble in his chest as he chuckled, low and soft. "Good morning to you, too," he said.

"We have somewhere to be," I grumbled.

Rhys kissed my temple as the world disappeared into smoke and shadow. In an instant, we were high above the ground, falling fast. I yelped and held on tighter as his wings snapped open.

We pitched forward, and the wind died down as we settled into a smooth glide. The air smelled strongly of pine, and I breathed it in deeply as I lifted my head and beheld Illyria for the first time.

This high up, the tents and buildings were little more than dots on the mountain. And we were far from the only ones in the air—everywhere, winged males were soaring to and from Windhaven. Two of them drew closer, and flashes of cobalt and crimson in the morning sun were enough to identify them as Cassian and Azriel.

As curious as I was about Illyria, there wasn't much to see as the ground rushed up to meet us. Fire pits, the grey stone of the mountain, a few squat permanent buildings. Not much else.

Rhys's wings flapped occasionally, enough to keep our descent slow and controlled. With my arm hooked around his shoulders, I could feel the strain in his muscles. But he was managing—and making it look effortless.

Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel landed in perfect synchrony, with the ease of seasoned warriors who'd trained to fly in formations. Rhys set me down, and I found myself wishing there was a more graceful way to stand up after being carried.

Because people were staring.

The High Lord had returned after fifty years Under the Mountain, with a human girl cradled in his arms. I drew myself up to my full height and met their stares. There was no warmth here, no joy. But there hadn't been much of that in my ramshackle village below the Wall, either. I might have been the only person without wings for miles, but in a way, Illyria seemed familiar.

An older male approached, flanked by a small group of warriors with their hands near their weapons and their wings tucked in tight. As they took in my Illyrian leathers and the ash arrows peeking over my shoulder, I tried not to fidget.

"Your dog," the male said, indicating Cassian with a jerk of his head, "already completed camp inspections yesterday. Don't tell me you've brought a human to check for dust in the barracks, too."

He'd said human, but from the way he spat the word, he might as well have called me a cockroach instead.

"After fifty years away, it's good to see your sparkle hasn't dimmed, Devlon," Rhys drawled. "Feyre Cursebreaker is a member of my Inner Circle, and she wouldn't be here to clean up a mess if you'd kept a tighter leash on your men."

I didn't feel much like a threat, not surrounded by winged warriors twice my size. But I knew better than to let that show. With practiced ease, I pulled an ash arrow from my quiver and gave them a small smile as I tapped it on my thigh.

Devlon hated Rhys—I'd knew that much from all the planning we'd done the day before. I wasn't sure if he was bold enough to call his High Lord a whore to his face, though. From the way he'd narrowed his eyes, I could tell he wanted to. My grip on the ash arrow tightened.

"These last fifty years have been difficult for us all," he said through clenched teeth.

"I'm not interested in hearing your excuses. The current state of your camp is pathetic, and if I see one more misstep, you can consider yourself court-martialed."

Rhys turned and started walking towards the tree line, not bothering with a dismissal. Azriel, Cassian, and I followed without another word.

There were more stares as we crossed the camp, not just from the warriors, but from Illyrians who'd clearly been in the middle of chores or going about their business, too. If Windhaven was anything like my village below the Wall—and I suspected it was—word traveled fast. I focused on matching the quick pace Rhys was setting with his stupidly long legs, lest the gossip be about Prythian's savior jogging to catch up and falling on her face.

It wasn't until we'd stepped into the forest that Rhys's wicked amusement slid through the crack I kept open in my shields for him. Stupidly long legs? But you look so delicious framed between them.

"Save it for when we're back home, Rhys," I muttered, and I could've sworn I heard a snicker, either from Cassian or Azriel. We reached the edge of the camp not long after that.

There had been days those first steps into the woods had taken everything out of me. Days I'd been weak from hunger, exhausted from hours on my feet, but alive and determined to stay that way. To ensure my family stayed that way.

Enough food and rest made a difference, but the weight of memory was a heavy one, something that had lodged itself deep in my bones. It might still have dragged me under. But I had a lifeline, an unbreakable cord to grip, and for once, I was working as part of a team.

The work ahead of us might be grisly, but nocking the arrow in my hand had never been easier.

[nottapossum]

Itty Bitty Imps chapter: 9 Stolas the Caregiver Pt2

Chapter 9: Stolas the caregiver Pt 2

Blitzø woke up in Stolas’s arms. He was bigger again, and could easily put two and two together.

He fucking regressed in front of Stolas!

Fuck.

He tried to release Stolas’s grasp on him, but he it was kinda impossible. 

“Stolas?” He called out, tapping on the bird’s shoulder to wake him up.

Stolas’s eyes open and look down at the imp. “Oh, you’re awake.” Stolas says, letting go of Blitzø to rub the sleep from all four of his eyes. “Are you alright?” He asks.

“Yeah…” The Imp sighs. “I’m fine.”

“How are you feeling?” The prince asks.

Blitzø shrugs, scooting away from Stolas anxiously. “M’fine. Like I said.”

“Are you…um, older, now?” Stolas asks, hesitantly.

“I guess.” Blitzø shrugs again.

“So, you are a regressor then?” Stolas asks.

Blitzø was embarrassed, he can’t believe he actually admitted it. He turned away from Stolas, bringing his knees closer and hugging them. 

“Blitzø, please talk to me; I know I push a lot of boundaries with you, but it’s only because I care. I would never intentionally hurt you, ever; or tell anyone about this.” He promised.

Blitzø thinks about it, then he nods. “Yeah…I am. I don’t normally- in front of other people…. Actually ever.”

“I figured that.” Stolas says. “Do your friends or family know? Your employees? Your daughter?”

Blitzø shakes his head. “No, normally I can hide it pretty well. honestly don’t know what’s going on with me.”

Stolas looks at him, listening. Trying so hard restrain himself from asking a million questions about it- how has he never slipped in front of anyone else? Did Stolas do a good job? How old was regressed Blitzø? He has to know! But he doesn’t want to overwhelm him! So, he settles on asking only one question: “What made you slip?”

Blitzø Thought about it…could he tell Stolas the reason? Should he? 

He doesn’t remember much of what happened at all… but the single word of endearment Stolas had used was all he could think about. 

‘Starlight.’

Of all the things to fucking call him! 

“I don’t- I don’t know.” Blitzø lies.

He can’t trust anyone, he should’ve lied to Stolas the first place.

Nothing good ever came from people knowing…

Blitzo, past {Age 15}: 

Blitzo slowly made his way to his parents side of the tent, he couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

“Blitzo, is everything alright?” Tilla, his mother asked.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. I just need to talk to dad for a second.” He explains.

“Blitzo…” Tilla crossed her arms.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to cause any problems, I just need to talk to him about what happened, a simple explanation, you don’t have to worry about it.” Blitzo says.

Tilla still wasn’t convinced, she  raised an eyebrow to show Blitzo that she was serious; now was certainly not the time to piss off Cash.

“I saw barbie smoking earlier, you may want to check on her to make sure she’s okay.” Blitzo tells her.

Tilla sighs. “Promise me that you will not antagonize your father.”

Blitzo nods. “I promise.” He lies.

Tilla nods back. “Alright, I’ll go check on your sister, are you going to be alright?” She asks.

“I’ll be fine, it’s not gonna take long.” Blitzo says.

“Alright, goodnight darling.” Tilla says before kissing her son’s cheek.

“Night, mom.” He says. Blitzo waits until his mom is really gone before walking inside the tent.

His father was busy, counting money and shit, the one thing he actually loved was money. He didn’t really care about his wife or kids, nothing they did ever made him proud. It was never enough for him.

“Blitzo? What the fuck do you want?” His father asks, suddenly noticing the teen.

“It was me…” Blitzo confessed.

“Huh?”

“I was the one who cheated on the godamn test, alright? Happy?” Blitzo asks.

Cash was happy, he smiled slyly at his son with raised eyebrows as if he actually accomplished something. “Oh yeah? Why did you cheat?” He asks, standing up and circling the smaller imp.

“Why do you think?” Blitzo asks.

“So you are a little then?” Cash chuckles. “What a shame. I was hoping it would be a kid I could actually be proud of.” Cash says. “But I suppose you’ll have to be enough.”

“Listen, I’m the one who funded this fucking circus after you sold me to that stupid prince!” Blitzo raised his voice. “And I’ve been making plenty with your ‘special’ clients.”

“I don’t know why you feel the need to bring it up all the time!” Cash scoffs. “We brought you back, just like we always do!”

“The point is, do you really want to be stuck with me? Deal with caseworkers and shit forever?! They won’t leave you alone long enough to hide what you’ve been having me do. And, I’m telling you now, if you send any caseworkers here, I’ll make sure they know about all the shit that happens around here, including stealing from that owl prince and pimping me off while you overwork Fizz and Barb.” Blitzo threatens, moving closer to his father in his attempt to be intimidating.

“You’d do that to your own family- to your mother?!” Cash asks spitefully.

“The guilt trip and threats won’t work on me this time, pops;  I’m fucking serious.” Blitzo says, standing his ground. “You did this to your family, not me.”

“Then you’ll be in shit too, taken to some fucking adoption center to waste away, you fucking moron!” Cash explains. “No one will want you!”

Blitzo shrugs. “It’s better than jail with you, right?” He asks. “How about this: I don’t retake the test, and no one needs to make any drastic decisions or ruin a perfectly horrible family business, alright?” He suggests.

Cash sighs. “Fine, I won’t make you take the second test; but don’t think for one second that if you cause me any more trouble I’ll just let you. I can always find a trafficker to sell you to.” His father got frightening close to Blitzo. “Because, see, they don’t really care what your results are. They’ll take you anyway.” He cornered Blitzo to the wall of their tent, his threatening dark tone bright shivers down Blitzø’s spine.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t expect anything different from you.” Blitzo says, glaring daggers at his father, he tries to keep his breathing under control, Cash can’t know how scared he was.

“Good, it’s important you know who’s mercy you’re under.” Cash says, grabbing Blitzo by his collar. “I’ve done everything I can to take care of you kids, and none of you have ever shown me any kind of respect, especially you! You will start showing me the respect I deserve, and you’re going to be working harder from now on, pleasing anyone I put in front of you with no trouble. Got that, buster?” His father asks.

“Yes.” Blitzo agreed reluctantly, looking away from his father’s violent eyes. “I got it.”

“Good, now get some sleep. You have work tomorrow.” Cash says with a smile, letting him go.

Blitzo walked back to his side of the tent with Fizzarolli. He hated that he had to do that, hated his father more than anything… but it was worth it to ensure the safety of both Barbie and Fizzarolli. 

Blitzo knew he’d pay for this. But, no good deed goes unpunished. Blitzo’s life is already horrible, this is the only way he can protect his sister and boyfriend, and it will be worth it in the end. 

Present:

“Well, I certainly understand why you’d want to keep this a secret.” Stolas says. “Especially from me.”

Blitzø couldn’t believe that he actually told Stolas about this, he hasn’t told anyone about this since his father! And what the hell is Stolas going to do? Would he send a report? He’s never been against breaking the rules before (e.g the grimoire) but who knows where Stolas stands on this particular subject.

“Blitzø, if you’re worried about me telling anyone, you don’t have to be.  I’m serious when I say I genuinely care about you and your health. Alerting anyone about this would possibly ruin your career and reputation; not to mention take away the little freedom you have. I care too much about you to let that happen, and I don’t know what I’d ever do if I lost you.” Stolas explains.

Blitzø nods. “Alright.” 

“Are you alright?” Stolas asks again as he notices Blitzø’s breathing had increased immensely.

Blitzø nods. “Yeah, I just- I need to catch my breath.” He says.

Stolas nods, understanding.

They waited a few moments for Blitzø’s breathing to get back to normal in total silence, then Stolas suddenly smiles, then starts laughing hysterically.

Blitzø glared at the owl. “The fuck is your problem?” He asks.

“It’s just-“ he hoo’ed. “you really ARE a child.”

Blitzø blushes slightly, then scoffs and throws a pillow at Stolas to try and hide his reaction. “Shut up, asshole.”

“Seriously, though. You have nothing to worry about.” Stolas says. “I won’t yell anyone about this. But, I must say, I’m am glad you told me.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Blitzø’ asks.

“Because it means you trust me.” Stolas says.

Blitzø thought about it, did he really? He definitely could’ve just told him to fuck off and been done with it- but, he choose to tell him the truth. Willingly.

“So that means you don’t have a caregiver.” Stolas says.

“What?” Blitzø asks. “Oh, Uh, no. Obviously. And I don’t need one.” He adds.

“I happen to be a classified caregiver, perhaps I could look after you?” Stolas suggests.

“I just fucking said I don’t need one.” Blitzø repeats.

“I know you don’t, I just mean sometimes, or hang out with you so you don’t feel so lonely. I did a fairly good job today, didn’t I?” Stolas asks.

Blitzø hesitates. “I- I don’t really remember anything when I regress.” He confesses.

“Oh, that sounds rather scary.” Stolas says.

Blitzø shrugs. “I think it’s my mind trying to protect me from shame or something.”

Stolas nods. “Probably For the best then.” He mumbles. “Maybe having a caregiver just to make sure nothing bad happens to you would be useful?” He suggests. “Make you feel more secure?”

Blitzø sighs. “Maybe…“

“Take some time to think about it.” Stolas suggests. “I promise I would never do anything that we hadn’t already talked about, you can trust me.”

“Why do you even want to? Littles are…I don’t know, they’re a lot of work.” Blitzø says. 

“Well, being royalty and all, I’ve never had a little of my own. Raising my daughter was one of the best experiences of my entire life if you don’t count Stella’s interference. All caregivers need a little, and with you being more independent, I think it would be a perfect opportunity for the both of us.” Stolas explains.

Blitzø thought about it, Stolas did make a good point, but it was still Stolas. They’re business partners, not friends, not boyfriends. It would be foolish to allow him to do something this intimate.

It was a good sign that Stolas was actually asking though, he could’ve just told the authorities about him, then he could’ve filled in the stupid paperwork and kept Blitzø to himself and no one would ever say anything about it! They never asked what the littles wanted, always claiming that littles just don’t know what’s good for them, especially when they’re lower class citizens like imps- but Stolas actually asked him.

Stolas was…evolving. He’s thinking  of Blitzø as something other then a lower class demon, what did he actually think of him? Blitzø wasn’t sure…

“What do you think?” Stolas asks.

All Blitzø could hear is his stupid father saying: ‘No one will want you.’

Most people might think this proved him wrong, that Stolas actually did want him. But, Blitzø knew the truth. No matter what happens, Stolas and him could never be more than what they already are. 

Which is nothing. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Stolas.” Blitzø says. “I’m sorry.”

Stolas nods. “Don’t be, I understand.” He says. “Don’t worry, I won’t bring it up again you know, unless I have to. I do not wish to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Blitzø nods.

“Oh, I’ll go bring us some dinner now.” Stolas announced awkwardly, getting up and leaving. 

Blitzø exhaled slowly, He can’t wait till he can go home, he has a feeling Stolas has been rejected enough for now. 

~~Later~~

Stolas was a little disappointed at Blitzø’s rejection, of course. But he did understand. Blitzø and him have a complicated relationship, and Stolas felt he was mostly to blame for it; why did he feel the need to push Blitzø into doing whatever he wanted? It’s not that he doesn’t care what the Imp needs or wants, perhaps he was simply too selfish in the beginning…and maybe he still is.

He needs to start considering what Blitzø wanted…

Yes, Stolas decides that he needs to start listening and prioritizing Blitzø more, it hasn’t really worked in the past but, maybe if he tries harder that will change!

Suddenly, Stolas felt something crawling under the covers of his bed, it was rather strange. He turned on the light and removed the comforter to reveal the darling little Imp.

“Blitzø? What are you doing?” He asks.

Blitzø wasn’t in a talkative mood, he just moved closer to Stolas. Blitzø was holding the small horse plushie Stolas had given him a year ago when he hurt his leg, thus indicating he was indeed little right now. He was also wearing his adorable horse hoodie, he was overall the most adorable thing Stolas has ever seen.

“Oh, darling. Are you little?”

Blitzø just hugs the hose closer.

“It’s alright if you are, I’m not upset.” Stolas says.

Blitzø finally nods.

“Well, that’s alright. So, what are you doing out of bed?” Stolas asks. 

Blitzø frowns and shrugs, he doesn’t want to answer verbally, which was alright too. 

Stolas tilted his head. “Hmm. Perhaps you’re just looking for some company? You’re more than welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like.”

Blitzø smiles and snuggles close to Stolas, he held on to the bird as if he was afraid he’d suddenly leave if he let go.

Stolas petted the little one gently, there has to be a way, he couldn’t just let Blitzø be without a caregiver, could he? It would be cruel to leave a child on his own.

But how could he convince Blitzø to agree?

[fangsandfeels]

So, after Jerra's encounter with the Hunters of Vengeance became pretty much a certainty in her personal story, I started thinking about all the edgy characters I could create because the lore gaps enable me.

My main headcanon for Hunters of Vengeance is based on the fact that they're not a traditional order, don't have an HQ, and roam the lands. That which probably means the following:

They aren't very rigid in their structure aside from following Hoar's main tenets and requiring all new members to be approved or initiated by most renowned members.

Their order includes a wide range of fighters and warriors: as long as you follow Hoar and his teachings, you're fine.

They keep tabs on the fellow Hunters just to make sure they aren't shaming the order with their deeds - and to avenge colleagues if they met an unjust death.

In Jerra's quest, both of the abovementioned things have happened. As a result, her unexpected reunion with her mentor's colleagues may either end in a tragedy...or not. It all depends on her choices and what she believes in.

Anyways, with all that said, meet the crew:

Grim Greycastle. Doombringer (battle cleric of Hoar). Leads the hunt and the investigation to keep matters orderly and gather as much information as possible to carry out the verdict.

In charge of key rituals and ceremonies, generally keeps tabs on the order members through the ways known only to him.

Was pals with Jerra's mentor, and tries not to let this fact affect his judgment.

---

Ethra Mistburn. Warlock, proficient in Necromancy and Medicine (which makes her the top forensic pathologist in the group). Cold, calculating, and suspiciously ageless. Nobody really knows who her patron is and just what kind of boons she got, but it certainly has something to do with her lifespan because after meeting her once again in nearly a decade Jerra is astonished to find out that she hasn't changed at all.

Ethra is the one who puts a very quest-relevant Revenant into stasis, preventing it from wandering aimlessly and falling apart due to losing its mark.

Was too, pals, with Jerra's mentor, but has no issues with not letting it affect her judgment. If the kid wants to prove her innocence and worth, she better not hope for indulgences born out of sentiment. This is not how true justice happens.

---

Ciro. Assassin. Wood elf on his father's side, violently denies having freckles. Looks like he bullied Jerra when she was a child, but not really because all conflicts between Hoarites are solved through duels, which don't last very long for obvious reasons.

Also, throwing hands with a 15-year-old is the opposite of cool. Is side-eyed by colleagues for being a show-off; at times looks like he isn't treating Hoar's dogmas seriously, but he manages to toe the line.

---

Leta. Shadow monk. Smiles and talks like the most optimistic, cheerful and playful person you've ever known, but will kill you with her bare hands, horns, and tail. Prefers to disarm her opponents and kill them with their own weapons, just like the Poet of Justice intended.

Hasn't met Jerra before, but is excited to fight her because she heard a lot about her mentor and the prospect of testing her skills against his student is delicious.

---

Sagar T'Yog. Secretive, talented, and always hungry for more knowledge.

If you find yourself in a hard fight while he found a neat tome to study, his only reply to your "Help us, we're dying!" will be "And I'm reading?...".

Don't worry though, he won't let you die. His time management skills are immaculate and if there is anything he learned by being around Hoarites is that being polite is the best way to avoid unnecessary duels.

Rumor has he joined the order because he is on the run from Thay and his worship of the Poet of Justice stems from hoping to settle personal grievances. Nevertheless, he is good at what he does and seems to care little about glory, power, or immortality. However, the true goal of his pursuit remains unknown. Jerra has only seen him a couple of times and found him to be a surprisingly patient and pleasant storyteller.

--

Selise Calabra. She has been there, she has done that, she can give you a detailed lecture on various martial styles and nearly any part of Faerun and even some of the Astral Plane. Practical, pragmatic, and always unbiased despite her chill attitude.

A mean cook and scary good with poisons. Actually has hobbies, and interests outside bounty hunting, apparently does gardening, and bought a neat home somewhere in Heartlands. Good like finding it though, she ain't telling where it is.

She is ready to kill Jerra if her guilt is proven but provides a supporting voice once she realizes Jerra is an Oathsworn (which means her vision and principles are literally engraved into her very being, to the point of gaslighting the Weave, which has to mean aomething). She is all about the spirit of the law and just retribution and she will always remind that.

---

Nym. Elven (???) ranger (???). Probably, certainly, is like that because he got fucked up by the Fey folk (particularly fey hunters who worship both Hoar and Sylvanus) in a classic "give us your firstborn we'll teach him our ways" scenario. No one is even sure that he is still just an elf.

Nobody knows anything about him or what the fuck he is even doing or what kind of bounties he is after. He just pops up, does his thing, and goes away, not to be seen or heard of in years. Has to speak in riddles and ambiguous meanings whenever he feels like speaking. Generally, he just stands there. Smiling. He is definitely aware of the effect he has on people and it amuses him.

Jerra had seen him only once in her life -- and remained unsure whether he was even real or a figment of her imagination.

---

Jhessail Malheur. Used to be a Flaming Fist but she quit shortly because if upholding justice or punishing actual criminals is secondary compared to the whims of the Upper City nobles or The Guild-puppeteered members of the Parliament of Peers then what's the fucking point.

Loves constructing traps and turning the terrain into her personal hunting grounds -- while that's the skill all Hunters of Vengeance have, she is very passionate about it. It's quite possible that first, she created several very ironically unfortunate accidents for the people her former Flaming Fist superiors ordered to leave alone - and then she found out she could make a living out of it while following her remaining convictions.

Another Hunter Jerra hasn't encountered before and probably the first one of the Hunters she comes across, probably by the end of Act I. Whether Jhessail survives the encounter depends on a successful Insight check (noticing the order's symbol).

[killed-by-choice]

Michelle Madden, 18 (USA)

18-year-old Michelle (known as Shelly to her family) was a student at Mobile College in Mobile, Alabama. She had epilepsy and was taking medication to manage it, but was otherwise perfectly healthy.

When Michelle found out that she was pregnant, she was told that her epilepsy medication would “probably” cause birth defects. (It is unknown if any tests were ever run to see if there actually were any birth defects at all.) The teenager went with a friend to the Family Planning Medical Center, which was actually an abortion facility. The facility later claimed to have given Michelle counseling, but she was on the operating table only 15 minutes after she walked through the door.

That same day, Michelle’s parents were preparing to go to Mississippi to spend Thanksgiving with a family member. They got a call from Michelle’s roommate telling them that their daughter was sick.

“We didn’t think anything of it. We told her we were going to come the next day to pick her up,” Michelle’s mother told the Mobile Press Register.

But before they even left the house, the house mother at the dorm called, asking if Michelle had abnormal periods and saying that she had a strange mark on her face. Again, the parents weren’t particularly worried.

But when they arrived at the dorm, they found out that Michelle wasn’t there. She was in the hospital having emergency surgery.

When doctors operated on Michelle, they found a leg bone, two pieces of her baby’s skull and some placenta left inside of her uterus. The surgery to save her life was too late. Sepsis already set in from the rotting pieces of the corpse, and Michelle died three days after she was admitted.

Michelle’s parents sued the abortionist and his facility. A judge awarded 10 million dollars to the grieving family, but Evans appealed on the grounds that this would “devastate him financially” because his malpractice insurance would only cover $1 million.

Michelle’s parents agreed to settle for $5 million with the insurance company paying the entire amount. Not content with that, Evans then sued his malpractice insurance company for not having settled with the family for $1 million prior to the trial, claiming that he had been subjected to “emotional distress, humiliation, damage to his reputation, and loss of business” — such “emotional distress”, he asserted, was “so severe that no reasonable person could be expected to endure it.” (Apparently the lawsuit was what caused Evans such distress and not the unnecessary deaths of a teenage girl who had trusted him and her defenseless unborn baby.)

Michelle’s parents told the news about the horrifying treatment their daughter had endured in the final days of her life as well as the complete lack of parental consent. “Two weeks before, she crushed her finger and had to have it X-rayed at the hospital.” said her mother. “We had to ensure the hospital we would send them the signed release to have her hand X-rayed.” Yet Michelle underwent a dangerous unnecessary surgery without her family’s consent or notification.

Mrs. Madden gave a message in the newspaper after her daughter and grandchild were killed in the hopes that it would spare others from sharing Michelle’s fate: “Too many young girls out there are picking up the phone book and looking for abortion clinics saying, Here's a quick easy way out of it and nobody has to know. I think people see it as an easy out, but there are other options that are safer.”

Michelle and her baby deserved better. Even if Michelle’s baby might have had disabilities, there was no reason for anyone to pressure her into an abortion— no reason except ableism and greed.

“Lawsuit is filed against abortion clinic,” Mobile Press Register 6/6/91

“Parents Finally get to tell daughter’s story,” Mobile Press Register, 6/16/91

Evans vs. Mutual Assurance

[mikereads]

Arnold has a crush on Tootie. Which is much different from 1x01. Who didn’t like girls or kisses. Now he has changed his tune. Blair asked what has gotten into him and Mrs. Garrett says “we’ll, you’ve had biology. Figure it out.” As she says this they hear a motorcycle pulling up and they wonder who it is. Cue Jo walking in wearing a helmet. Jo wants to know if she is in the right place and Blair confuses her for a delivery boy (loll the butch implications are early.) Also side note: when Blair went on a date with the last delivery boy in s1 👀. I see you Blair. (But also that last date n the van was 😖) When Jo takes off her helmet Blair says she can’t believe it. Natalie teases she was going to ask her (him) to the school dance loll oh Natalie. Cue classic Jo going in to hit her. Jo walks past Blair and we see Blair not so subtly check her out. Oh come on Blair you aren’t even subtle. It’s supposed to look like she judges her and part of her does but oh come on. Blair is having flashbacks of hugging and touching girls and how “strange” it is. Loll Blair already has it down bad.

Blair on a date vs Blair with Jo. Oh Blair! Our sweet little gaybie.

One she is down right miserable and the other she is curious and intrigued. F.Y.I: they literally just met too.

After the girls first meet they get into a fight and Mrs.Garrett teases she doesn’t want to take out the cat mix or something aka a cat fight but also cats=lesbians so yeah but it also reminded me of when Blair and Cindy got into a fight in 1x01 and she said it wasn’t roller derby. Her references are quite gay without them trying to be.

Of course they get into an argument about boys. Yup can’t pass the bechdel test but they will grow. Also the tension is there though. They agree to go to a bar to settle it and Jo asks for a picture of Blair 👀… to make a fake ID. I just know Jo kept that picture for personal reasons.

Side note: I wanted Blair to stop dating 18 year olds and now she’s dating a 19 year old ugh! When will it end. I mean at least now she is 15 but no it just got worse. S2 do better.

“Oh good. Then, you decided to room together.”/“They’re gonna do all kinds of things together.” Oh Tootie 👀🏳️‍🌈.

I’m sorry Mrs. Garrett but before you know it double dating huh. Natalie vigorously nods her head yes and says you bet!

Which does happen soon and Blair initiates it. I mean interesting she set Sue Ann up on a date but no double dates and now with Jo she wants to huh. Oh Blair just say you want to date Jo/ aka secretly to me it’s okay.

“We’ll sneak out tonight after dinner.” Oh Jo only there for a few hours and your already sneaking out to a bar with Blair and making it clear you only want it to be you and Blair. Again girl I see you. Also Blair is already referring to her and Jo as “we”. I love to see it!

The man is a creep they are clearly children but when he guesses what school Jo goes to he says Sarah Lawrence I just have to laugh. I can’t with this show. Literally lesbihonest. Jo just smiles in response. He says how she couldn’t care less about her hairstyle and has a touch of punk. He says Blair is in secretarial school again I have to laugh ugh. Very gay responses.

Blair calls him a low class creep as she should. Call him out on it Blair! She says she owns a textile company. Aka first retcon for her, her dad no longer owns a dress company. Also though she did say she would marry the president of General Motors so pretty close. I guess she just cut out the middle man good for her! She is a rich man- if you know you know.

The man turns out to be an undercover cop (thank god he’s not a creep). They then get arrested and are brought in. Mrs. Garrett tries to intervene but it’s no luck. So there first date ends with them going to jail. Cause clearly this has more to do with there egos and nothing to do with guys since they are uncomfortable and don’t want to go inside. Which makes sense they are 15! This guy before they knew he was a cop is at least in his 30s again 🤮!

If I had a nickel for every time one of Blair’s dates ended with the cops showing up I would have two nickels which isn’t a lot but weird it happened twice lol. With someone she first thought was a delivery boy no less.

[sinfulcreep]

Casper Darling x OC

RIP Darling tags: Control, High School AU, Beau Ripley, Casper Darling, bullying, It had been raining for three days. Casper was getting just about sick of it, sitting in his 3rd period impatiently. He wanted to be warm in the schools lab, working on his own personal projects. Sadly the teachers aide that worked as the after-school lab tech was out for the week. A full week. For this week every day Casper would have no reason to stay late and would encounter Rip after school-- if he was lucky enough to dodge him during school hours.

Fuck.

The bell rang. It was time to put his speed walking skills to the test. As the hall flooded with students Casper did his best to keep to the edges. He was actually making pretty good time and his was locker just around the corner from his next class.

A quick stop should be fine but I have to be fast.

Casper let out a shallow sigh of relief when he got to his locker. He popped it open to trade his textbooks when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Suddenly he was flipped around and slammed hard against the adjacent locker. A familiar voice greeted him.

"Hey there, Darling." the voice purred with malice.

Casper could feel his heart start pounding right away. He couldn't gauge the boy's mood from his face.

"Hi, Beau."

Casper was slammed against the lockers again.

"My name is Rip, you little shit!" the punk frowned and furrowed his brows. "Your manners are real crap, ya know that?"

Casper noted that the flow of students was dwindling. Only a few stragglers and lollygaggers were still making their way. Only a few witnesses left and Rip didn't mind an audience.

"Can-- can I just get to my next class?"

"Without a correction? Not on my watch."

The struggle was useless, but it was ritual. Casper thrashed as much as he could but Rip practiced. Rip shoved and crammed Casper into his locker and slammed it closed.

"Think about me while you wait for the janitor, Darling."

It hadn't taken a full 15 minutes before Ms Wander, a counselor, walked by and heard Casper slowly & rhythmically knocking on the locker. He had learned that it saved energy and his voice. It was another 10 minutes before someone with a key let him out.

"So, are you going to tell me who keeps doing this to you this time?" Asked Ms. Wander in a tone colored with concern.

Casper kept his gaze on the floor. If Rip found out he snitched suspension wouldn't stop him. He didn't want to know what Rip was like when he was pissed and free from school bounds.

"No." Casper said quietly, ashamed.

There was a silence between the two. Wander knew she wouldn't be getting more from him.

"OK, Casper. Get to class."

"Yeah, ok. Thanks."

Casper waited a moment for her to leave, then opted for the open lunch area outside. His favorite tree provided shelter from the rain where he sat until the next bell, reading.

When the bell did ring Casper was already up on his feet, on his way to the cafeteria. He would avoid most of the crowd this way and hopefully miss Rip on his way through the line.

Tray in hand, Casper returned to his spot under the big tree. As he took bites of cheap cafeteria meatloaf he kept his back to the tree and scanned the settling crowd for any sign of Rip; his familiar hair cut, the shine of his leather jacket. He stayed vigilant all through lunch and never saw a glimpse of Rip.

Maybe I can get through the rest of the day without seeing him.

Casper gathered his trash and walked to the closest bin. He only caught a glimpse of Rip's arm as it came around from his right side to slap the tray from his hands. It clattered to the ground loudly, tossing dirty utensils and napkins to the floor.

Rip didn't even say anything. He just started laughing and walked off, now joined by his friend Ana. She gave him a low-five and laughed with him all the way out of the cafeteria, leaving Casper to clean up alone. Casper took the long way to his last two classes and the extra hustle paid off. The final bell rang and he was out of his seat and out the door before the teacher could stop him. Casper rushed to his locker as other students started to flood the halls.

It was crowded. Casper was impatient to get to the front, weaving around other students and fighting the flow of foot traffic. He wasn't really looking and he didn't know until it hit him. Rip's shoulder crashed into Casper's and sent him reeling. Casper fell back into another student who shoved instinctively. He fell to the ground at Rip's feet, shoulder and knees aching already. Rip snickered and then continued on his way.

Casper stood up and adjusted his glasses, picked up his books and binder, and started walking again but this time for the exit on the west end of the school. He'd had it but no one could see. Once he'd rounded the corner into an alley between buildings he slumped against the wall, dropped his books, and started crying.

Between sobs he didn't hear Rip coming until he saw the blurry shape of his boots through tear stained glasses. Casper gasped and stood up straight.

"Rip." He said, unable to stop his lip from quivering.

Rip reached out and put his hand on Casper's chest. He pushed him firmly against the wall.

How am I going to explain this one?

Casper flinched as Rip's hand came toward his face. He waited for the shock of pain to come but it didn't. Instead Rip took Casper's glasses and tucked them in his back pocket.

"What are you doing?" Casper asked, bewildered.

Rip came closer. He reached up again to Casper's face and wiped away the tears from his cheeks. The world wasn't much less blurry without glasses but Casper could see Rip leaning in and in. Their faces were inches apart. Casper could feel Rip's breath on his lips.

What the hell is this? Is this bait?

"Casper... can I kiss you?" "What?"

"I'm asking your permission to kiss you."

Casper could feel his heart pounding in his throat. Kissing? He's out of his mind.

"Can I actually say 'no'?"

Rip moved away just slightly. "Yes."

Casper couldn't keep his mind straight. It was racing the same as his heart. He could feel his face was flushing.

"I get it." Rip said flatly.

Rip started to back off when he felt a touch on his arm. Casper was holding him, as much as he could hope to hold someone like Rip.

"You can kiss me."

Rip kept his hand on Casper's chest, keeping him pinned against the wall, being careful this time. He stepped even closer. Again Rip leaned in and in without stopping until their lips touched.

Casper felt like he could melt. He leaned further into the kiss. Without thought he clutched Rip's hand on his chest as if it was the only thing keeping them connected.

Something stirred in Rip. His heart skipped at Casper's touch. This is what he'd wanted. He grabbed Casper's hands and moved them to his shoulders, grabbing his waist and using his bulk to keep Casper pressed against the wall. God, it felt good, too.

Casper wasn't thinking clearly anymore. His head was swimming but he didn't want to stop. He grabbed the collar of Rip's jacket and pulled as if they could get closer.

They stayed there, wrapped up in each other, for a few minutes. When Rip ended the kiss he let out a long breath.

"You have no idea how bad I wanted that." Rip cooed at Casper.

"You have a fucked up way of showing it."

Casper slipped one arm around Rip, trying to take his glasses back. His hand felt around but only found- and gripped- Rip's ass. Rip gasped.

"Don't tell me," Casper said with a smug smile breaking through his usual soft expression, "you have soft spots."

Rip wanted to deny it but Casper had both hands on his ass now, rubbing and pulling at his hips. Rip didn't fight it. He let himself moan quietly for Casper.

"Like putty."

[eristic-kaleidoscope]

Playing Defense | Erik A | Trial 5.3 | Re: Jae-min, END, Akito, An

Wow, okay, that was a hell of a lot going on here. He’s not sure if he’s processing all of this fully on an emotional level yet, but he does know that he is grateful for END speaking up to at least try and oppose Jae-min on that, as well as Byrne later on despite absolutely not doing it for Akito’s sake.

“Yeah, like other people have said, until we actually know who did what and everything else, or even once we do if it’d put more unnecessary risk or death out there, I’m asking you to hold off to. And personally I am in fact stupid enough to still try and get between you myself anyhow if it really comes down to it and other people can’t manage it alone, so count on having that to deal with fucking me first too if the electrocution doesn’t get to you first if it comes to that.” A promise for a promise HIUCDISH help. “But, at the same time, I’ll still give my best to give reasoning why it can’t be Akito too, as I think of them. I want to solve this too, to get a real fucking answer and not just a manufactured one in either direction.”

He also turns to Akito next, thinking about everything he’s revealed and said as he takes a careful breath. 

“…It’s a lot to process, even going by what I already knew beforehand. And to be clear to everyone else too, I did get Akito to tell me at least some things with notepassing and the like before this, but I didn’t know everything. But it seems… feasible to me, at least. I’m… trying really hard to trust you right now about what you’re saying, and fuck is it hard with everything. But like I said, I’m going to keep at it for now, because I really do think that SOMETHING fucky is going on. It’s just a matter of figuring out what.” 

He takes another breath, careful not to go too deep with it for the sake of his ribs, and clears his head for a moment… before settling on what else he wants to say here.

  “Okay, getting down to business on all that. First to END’s question to me: In my testing, the charger can charge the taser in about 10-15 minutes or so. It’s… POSSIBLE that it was mid fight I guess if they tussled for that long, but I didn’t really see any other injuries on Erisu but the bruising on her neck. Like I said, by best theory is a test shock, but if anyone else has an idea or thinks we really need to grill An more about it, feel free. Jae-min’s actually more likely to go down with a tase though, funnily enough, i think we had this discussion once before.” But that wasn’t important right now-

He blinks about the thermos thing END says, though.

  “Ah…? I saw the dented metal thermos in the medical floor group investigation too, but I didn’t see it in A Office, I saw it in the the hidden room behind the G Office in a cupholder. It was… I mean, I was kind of weirded out about that and the Fallout game in there since ‘Fallout’ was one of the phrases on that first note Akito admitted he wrote about Sibyl and then a note to me weeks ago, but that thermos looked… a lot older than the one I usually see him using. The normal metal thermos he keeps on him seems almost brand new, but this one had a bunch of small scratches and stuff that looked old, separate from that dent. It’s definitely the same type, though. I also saw him use his normal thermos after too and it wasn’t dented, so…?”

He looks at Akito with a questioning look there, asking him to answer there because he certainly doesn’t have more information than that on it. But he doesn’t hold on to that for long.

“And, I didn’t I didn’t know about Erisu being a vocaloid producer before now at all, if that’s really true. That… I mean, the vocaloid shit in this latest investigation is hardly the first time we’ve seen vocaloid related stuff, right? The first memory puzzle with Miku, then the music store having that vocaloid only juke box and the software for them in there as well as those snowglobes, then… I think there were the sunroom music boxes…??? I don’t know, it’s just been… VERY fucking consistant theming. Even that box of merch that seemed to be packed up in the stage, I don’t know where that was originally supposed to be, if it was.” 

He shakes his head though.

“Also, the library pictures that Akito took: He didn’t say it was to show Adrik, and I’m assuming he just happened to show them for some other reason, he said earlier trial that he was trying to take pictures to hold onto if we managed to get out of here soon. Which… I mean. That’s one thing to assume with the morning announcement, right? I have no idea if he was involved with that, but at the very least he was with me when it went off, so I don’t think he was messing with the lights or something himself. Actually- I wanna see the photos, to confirm something for my peace of mind. Hey, An, can I head over and look too? I know you said the times, but are those photos definitely from today? Because if they are… I have another idea.”

(An) “Mmmmmm…. Fine, but two is MORE than enough to confirm things, ok? That’s plenty, let’s not make a mosh pit by my podium." 

Erik A nods and gets up, and ends up taking the long way around the circle even though he doesn’t need to, just to offer Adrik a hand to squeeze for a moment as he passes, as well as a nod to Jae-min, he will not fear him- And finally, he gets around to Akito, looking at the offered phone. He gives a nod after a moment, offering some brief quiet words, before announcing it as he heads back to his podium. 

“Yeah- It doesn’t say the date, because none of our devices do because of their meddling, but it says ‘Today’ before the times, so unless things are way fucking more fabricated, he was definitely at the Library at those times. So I have two ideas for some proof for Jae-min on that, then, since I know you’re still suspicious that Akito could have killed Erisu even without being the other sibling.”

“The first: When I got to the scene where Erisu was with Kori and then Adrik, the elevator door was stuck open already, and was specifically on the 4th red floor. I know, well, because I stepped into it and got stuck there for a good 5-10 minutes while other people were using the elevator. So if Akito was definitely in the Library at 12:30 PM according to the pictures, it doesn’t make any sense that it would be on the 4th floor and not the 3rd floor where the Library is if he was the last one to use it.” 

“The other defense I have is… way back when, Kaguya specifically ‘the three of you’, right? Not ‘the four of you’ when she was talking about the people behind the scenes. So… Unless she was just really fucking out of the loop about shit, I don’t know if there was someone other than that 3rd sibling working with them behind the scenes on shit from the start. And like we’ve said, it really does seem like that’s either Akito or Erisu at this point too, because Weiss sure hasn’t been up and about anytime soon given the state of his muscle decay.”

He is trying his very fucking best here, by god- He’s back at his podium again though by the end, going the short way this time. And… Man, there was a lot fucking happening at all times. He thinks for a moment to himself, seemingly done for now, but… He looks back at An again, a thoughtful look on his face.

“But… An said that all of her siblings are alive with the exception of Ericca Hartmann, and that she’d do anything to keep them alive. Didn’t she? So what does that mean?”

Was she really just bullshitting on that, then…? 

[chairlunge34]

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[burningrubber]

Smell like Champagne | MV33

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader

word count: 7.7k (get some popcorn ready lovelies)

warnings: slight angst? maybe. mentions of inscurities and anxiety, swearing. Fluffy things going on too though.

request: from anon "Hiya what about prompts 15 and 38 with max? Xx" REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

authors/n: i don’t know what possessed me while i was writing this but instead of splitting it in two i’m feeding yall all the content. it do be v descriptive so sorry about that. this fic also like follows the 2021 season and races, but some events will ofc be changed to fit this plot so pls keep that in mind like not doing the sprint race eventho i loved it but it got too descriptive. enjoy! all the love ♡

_______________________________________________

masterlist

gif credit to owner :)

A goal that you have held close to your heart for a very long time was for a formula one team to reach out to you, but the elite sport always seemed a bit too far away from you for one reason or another. Even after getting podium after podium, achievement after achievement, not one of the teams had called or even given any indication of looking at you.

Through joining one of the racing academies, you did however manage to get into formula three before being bumped up to the second time, but it did seem to take you much longer than an average male. It was worth it though, because you heard word through the grapevine during your second season at f2 that the Red Bull Racing team took a liking to your driving skills. With every race you got more jittery, knowing that their eyes were on you, and since a contract wasn't provided to you just yet you knew that the seat was not a guarantee, or even a promise.

Your determination and hard work was something admirable though, and even if you weren't the first choice you made sure to make your name known. Clips of your best moments driving and quirky interviews always circulated around the internet. The fire and passion for the sport is always evident in your eyes as you tried to get past those old men that said you weren't cut out for a male sport. You amassed a big following from the female fans which always kept your spirits high, and they always made sure to spread pictures of you on multiple podiums.

They kept you in that limbo for most of the post summer break, before finally calling your assistant, aka best friend Jen, for you to come to the office for a chat. What came out of it was that you would be their reserve driver for 2020, which meant that you wouldn't be present at every circuit doing your own thing, but you were the first person they would contact if either driver couldn't complete a weekend. During the scheduled races that you did attend, you got familiar with the team around you.

Your presence was always appreciated in the garage when you walked in, making sure to give them the best version of you and highlighting that you wanted to be just as involved as the actual drivers. Making sure to remember everyone's names and positions as quickly as you could, even if you didn't really need to as you could get booted any moment still. So when you found out that you would take over Alex Albon's seat for the 2021 season, everyone was overjoyed and joined in on the celebrations. Showering you in enthusiasm and anticipation for the year to come, some of them even bringing up your past races after watching them.

Your excitement was slightly dampened when the news settled in, a few days before testing. Every hour that you got closer to the start of it all, the more intimidated and anxious you became, questioning your own skills despite your eagerness to race for Red Bull.

Being paired up with Max Vertappen as your first ever teammate in formula one was something different entirely too. His name preceded himself for his aggressive, yet amazing, style of driving. His honesty and no bullshit policy was something you could get along with though, as you never enjoyed sugar coating anything yourself either. He was also always outspoken, and never afraid to voice his opinions, swear words sometimes mixed up in there. However, he did apparently soften up when you started joining the meetings, according to one of the engineers. The most endearing thing of all was that he would always make sure that you were okay and on top of everything, keeping you updated through messages and calls. A bit of banter being sprinkled in there from time to time too.

The two of you had talked about your early karting days, reminiscing the good moments with each other before the actual weight of the sport settled in on your shoulders. Both of you also bonded over the intensity from your parents side that would linger in the back of your minds from time to time.

Despite all the reassurance from Max and the engineers, you were a jittering mess before your first race. Your anxiety peaking mid race, making you zone out almost everyone and everything, your replies to Hugh the race engineer short.

Your teammate had picked up on your anxiety, and so before each race he did anything possible to distract you, even if you didn't appreciate it at first. You never enjoyed people in your personal bubble before the race, not even Jen, so when you let him in it was quite a big step. A ritual was formed through this quick conversation, while he was giving you the most random information he could muster up, the two of you made up a hand shake for good luck. This positivity from him towards your skill, although appreciated, didn't do much for the first few races of the season. A few spin outs here and there, as well as barely scratching points was the talk of the town. Meanwhile, Verstappen alternated between first and second position each time.

From this, a mental block formed. A constant bubble of anxiety around you that everyone could see as you were on auto pilot during racing weekends. Even in your training sessions, you never seemed to be completely there, and your PT always made sure to point it out. Your free practices always went great, which highlighted the potential you could show during qualifying or races as you matched the times of Mercedes and Max. This was overlooked though, as always, the press deciding to focus on your failings and tainting the male dominated sport with your femininity. They were constantly hinting that you would be dropped or would quit before the end of the season, and with every race failure your mind was drifting that way.

Your once bubbly and determined persona being stripped away from you by the disappointed looks you got from the team and higher ups, those eyes following you everywhere you went. Even Max couldn't make you feel better, and he really tried his best too. Before each race he told you to give your arms and legs a shake, to "throw away" all the negativity and anxiety out of your body. He would always make sure to not be too far during media time as well, realising after the first few times that you seemed to smile a bit more when he was within reaching distance.

Max would always give you the silver linings of each race, how he admired the way you held off even the most experienced drivers. The way you would manage your tires so well, nevermind the weather or track conditions. He would say that you were a distinctive marker on the grid, usually not swapping positions with anyone behind you. His kind words would linger until you got told about your negatives, or when you would see the comments below your posts. The anxiety had a stronger grip on you than ever before with the pressure to meet expectations.

It was a crash during the Austrian GP that pulled everything from beneath you. In the middle of the race, right before your pit stop, you didn't slow down going into turn three quick enough. Therefore, carrying too much speed around the corner when the back of the car slipped away from you, throwing you off the track and into the gravel. Your car finally stopped once it hit the wall.

The impact happened in slow motion, darkness clouding the edges of your vision as nothing could be heard beyond your loud heartbeat. You thought it had only been a few seconds, but you were informed that you didn't reply to the radio in almost a minute before you croaked out a simple "alive" to your Hugh. The safety marshalls helped you in any way they could as you went through the motions of turning off the car, taking out the steering wheel as they undid the belts, and then climbing out. Telling you to sit down a few metres away to wait for the ambulance. Right then, you knew everything was working in your body, yet you felt numb, no pain, no thoughts, just turn three in front of your eyes.

Red flag achievement unlocked, you laughed at yourself in mocking when you realised no cars were going around the track as your crash replayed on one of the big screens, how pathetic can I get.

Jen was at your side from the moment you got out of the ambulance when they wheeled you into the emergency room. Words of reassurance coming from you to the girl as you could tell she was scared at what the results from the tests would be. Her hand gripping onto yours like a lifeline. It was one of the biggest crashes of your career, easily, so you weren't surprised that your best friend was acting the way she was.

With each test and the silence that followed, you were really losing all courage to continue on with racing. It wasn't as though someone caused you to spin out, you were the only one at fault for what had happened. Humiliation and disappointment flooded through your body with the IV that was hooked up to you.

When you finally got back to the paddock, it was already hours later and most things were already packed up. You were asked to return there to give Christian Horner the documents from the doctor and to apologise to anyone you could see for what had happened, a few members checking up on you along the way. The medical checks all came back fine, you would only be sore and bruised up for the next few days, but he provided you with some creams and meds to help you in recovery.

"I kind of want to revert back to my hospitality days and just hand in a week's notice of quitting," you laughed to yourself as you scrunched up the paper, wanting to get it off your chest by ranting to Jen. "It is all going so wrong for no reason, it's like my skills evaporated when I signed that contract. As soon as I get into that car I don't even think I know what a brake pedal does,"

"I'm sure your anxiety issues aren't helping the matter," Jen commented, pulling you into a side hug as you walked into the motorhome. You appreciated the touch contact when you got into your head a bit, it helped you in a grounding sense and reassured you that you weren't alone in all of this.

"Anxiety or not, it is pathetic. A woman gets finally signed into formula one, with such a big team like Red Bull, and is only proving all those all sods right in the sense that females don't belong," you spat, turning to look at her as you were getting close to your destination too quickly for your liking. "It's all getting a bit much, and maybe it would be a good idea for Alex to retake his seat," you stated, feeling guilty for kicking him out and now not being able to prove yourself to why you would be better than him. The pain from the crash surfaced when Jen gently grabbed your shoulders and shook you, trying to rid you off the negativity,

"You are not pathetic, Y/n L/n," she pointed at you, green eyes narrowing and showing how much she believed the words she was saying to you, "I will not let you give up on your dream just because it is getting a bit hard. It is understandable for you to be this way, you are getting compared to the Max Verstappen day-in day-out and that definitely doesn't help your position. But you deserve to be here,"

Jen managed to bring about logic to your thoughts, and this is the exact reason why she was your personal assistant. Going into your brain and pulling you back to the surface each time you started to go down a spiral.

"I just want to enjoy racing, and be at my peak again," you huffed out in frustration as too many emotions were flooding your being. Everything was bringing about anxiety and frustration, and you just wanted out of this, to get back to the good days where you could just simply drive around the track and not think about anything else.

"Well, the Max Verstappen thinks you're a pretty good driver for what it's worth." your teammate had rounded the corner with a small smile. Your lips turning into a thin line as you closed your eyes, of course he would overhear the entire conversation, it was just your luck at this point. Now he probably thought that you were pathetic for ranting like a toddler.

"I'll leave you to calm down before you come into the room," Jen stated with finality before prying the documents out of your hands before attempting to straighten them out. Going further down the corridor and turning towards Horner's office.

"Are you okay?" Max questioned when he stepped into your friend's previous position, you leaned against the wall behind you while shrugging your shoulders, crossing your feet at the ankles in an attempt to feign nonchalance. When you looked up at his face, his skin was creased with anxiety, eyes constantly scanning your features and body for any visible signs of injury or discomfort. He always seemed a bit more delicate when he looked at you, as though you would crumble if looked at wrong. It was both quite comforting and annoying, yet you just lavished in that look that seemed to only be reserved for you.

"Just a bit shaken up I guess," you sighed, "The seatbelts work just fine if you were ever worried about that," you let out a nervous laugh, trying to break out of the sad situation. Picking at the skin around your nails as a distraction, you couldn't seem to maintain eye contact with the male. Slight frustration buzzed around you as questions about why you were doing so poorly in comparison to your teammate floated through your mind, you were in the same car so why couldn't you just be on par with him.

"Was more worried about you than the seatbelts, so I'm glad to see you've still got humour," his statement threw you off balance slightly, the smile that was paired up with it making it seem very genuine and effectively overpowered everything going on inside of you right then.

"You don't have to worry about me," you whispered, drawing circles in front of you with your foot, looking down as though that was the most interesting thing right now.

"I also don't think you should give up your seat," his words brought your attention back up to your face. He has heard that far back in that conversation, and your face hear up a bit more in embarrassment. You were just venting to Jen, that thought would hopefully never happen but it was still at the forefront of your thoughts.

"Yeah well, I might not fully want to, but the team might have better chances if they swap me out Max. All roads are leading that way with my terrible driving," you felt like your adventure in this world would be over quicker than anticipated, and your fatigued brain really couldn't handle all this mix of emotions without starting to cry soon. "We are in the same care, and yet I am being so stupid. When did things get so difficult for fucks sake," it was nice getting things off your chest, knowing that Max wouldn't be annoyed by you unloading onto him, but it still made you quite surprised at how quickly you adapted to him.

"You aren't a terrible driver, I've seen most of your races prior to f1 and I just think you're in your head a bit too much right now," he fixated on a spot near your head as he leaned against the opposite wall, one of his feet tapping yours, "I think you are the opposite of terrible to be honest, I can feel it in my bones that the next race weekend will go much better for you,"

"I really hope those words come into fruition," you nodded, a small smile replacing your frustrated frown on your face when your eyes met again with his light blue ones, "It may be my last chance,"

"I can already smell the champagne on you," he sniffed around mockingly before chuckling, "I'll catch you later, schatje."

With that he had left, leaving you whispering a goodbye as you watched his body disappear beyond the doors leading out into the paddock. The dutch word didn't go unnoticed by you and you felt the need to translate it before you forgot, but you couldn't do it right then as you remembered that you were actually there to see Horner and not talk to Max who made you suddenly feel butterflies. His words had somehow managed to shadow over the negativities from the day, his worried face and smile imprinted on your mind.

____

The next circuit on schedule was Silverstone, and during the break that was just under a week, you spent each day with Jen. She was trying to get you back into the zone, bring about that Y/n that used to race in f3 and f2, not the bundle of anxiety that seemed to replace you every race. The two of you were glad that you were given a green light by the doctors to race again.

Jen's attempts at rewiring your brain didn't work as quickly as hoped, obviously, but her constant words of reassurance along with phone calls to Max were seeming to get you out of the slump slowly. The two of them became your rocks in this big world, and their support meant everything to you.

So, when media day came around and you were sandwiched between Daniel Ricciardo and Charles Leclerc, you felt a bit more confident in yourself. The crash aftermath was still there, and it was constantly getting re-reported by the press, but you managed to shake most of it off. You got along with both of the drivers besides you, so you were thankful to be put into this trio, their joking atmosphere making you feel a bit lighter.

Once the questions started rolling, they were mainly focused on the male drivers, and you were quite content to just sit there and watch the passion flow from them with every answer they provided. Asking you for your input from time to time, but the attention wasn't on you long before another query was being voiced. The shift towards you happened closer to the middle of your time with the press, with one interviewer asking,

"With consecutively placing behind Max Verstappen and the Mercedes cars, do you think that you will be staying on for another season?" his question caused silence in the room as you blinked, it was straight to the point and even if you were expecting it, you still held high hopes it wouldn't happen,

"It's still too early in the season to say anything like that," you stated, giving a curt nod and quickly indicating for the host to continue. Yet, just before things moved on a different reporter seemed to have something to add,

"Pretty sure it's obvious that she won't," his comment caused your mouth to fall open and muscles to tense, anger coursing through you as the two drivers besides you leaned forward. No one was impressed with his interruption and the tension rose with every quiet second,

"I don't think a reporter like you has any right to say that without knowing anything behind the scenes," you deadpanned, unimpressed with how highly he thought of himself which was evident with that statement, "I think both of the drivers next to me can also agree that a debut seasons are full of pressure, podiums may not be in the picture so far but losing a seat-"

"I think that is in a picture," the same individual spoke up, cutting your statement short and the anger didn't want to simmer. You shrunk back into the seat, knowing that it was better for you to stay quiet right then than to say anything. Daniel stood up from his chair, looking straight at the male that was being disrespectful,

"I think that the only thing in this picture of yours is leaving this press room," he stated with such finality that a chill ran up your spine. You appreciated him being defensive for you, but you really wished you could do it yourself without being called hormonal,

"Actually, can we remove him right now," Charles joined in standing up, the security at the back of the room seemed to hesitate slightly, not really knowing when this all turned so sour, "Or maybe, you don't have to. We are cutting this short, thank you to those of you who know what respect is."

Daniel pulled you up to get out of the room with the two of them, tugging you into his side and keeping you near the wall to be away from their eyes. Charles was out in front of the two of you as Jen was hot on your heels, nasty words leaving her mouth in a whisper as the McLaren driver tried not to laugh at your friend.

"Thank you guys for that," you sighed, rubbing your forehead with your hand, "I appreciate you two stepping in,"

"Any time, Y/n," Charles smiled at you, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze before being pulled away with his media guide, "I have to get going, this one isn't too happy with us," he whispered out towards you with a laugh. Daniel quickly followed him as he caught sight of someone behind you, but before you could see who Jen was taking his spot, a mischievous look in her eyes.

"I think you can prove all those nasty men wrong," she nodded at her own words as you watched her with slight amusement, "You need to gather all that anger within you right now and fuel your motivation with it,"

"Okay, yeah," you nodded along with your friend, trying to follow all those things that she had told you over the past week and a half. Channelling all your energy into your driving, getting back into how it used to be, negativity into motivation.

"Forget about those men, ew men. You really shouldn't have to tolerate their bs," she sighed before looping her arm through yours, taking you back towards the motorhome before going off about your other responsibilities for the weekend.

The anxiety was still there, lingering and waiting to get you back under its wraps again. The negative comments weighing you down, and it was all getting very tiring.

That night you got a chance to speak to your parents, and they agreed with Jen. Both of them wanted you back in your good old mentality, high spirited and bubbly. Making your voice and laugh heard around the paddock instead of cowering away from the stupid media press. It was so unlike you and they highlighted that, not in a deeming way, they would support you either way, they just wanted to relight that pure passion for the sport again. For that bright smile you would have standing on podiums to be present everyday, whether you were getting a trophy or not.

The best driver version of you was still not fully present during the first two practice sessions, but it was slowly starting to manifest within you again. The damage from last race was still there, making you hesitate on turns slightly, but with the amount of kind words and faith that your team had in you was chipping away at that slowly.

Hugh kept repeating himself, saying that no matter what you did, it would all be fine, that you would be fine. His voice constantly in your ears at the times you needed it the most. When you got out of the car between the sessions you found out why, apparently Max had heard about the press conference fiasco from Daniel and he wanted nothing but positivity in the garage that weekend. Mainly being focused on you and highlighting all the good things.

The simple fact that Max Verstappen was helping you even when you didn't know about it made you feel warm and fuzzy all over, a slight blush covering your face as you listened to the two team members talk. If he still believed in you, not once seeming to hesitate, then sure you should believe in yourself too. Wanting to be at your peak not only for yourself, but for him too.

His actions seemed to light that final spark that was needed in you, if someone like him, competing for a Championship, has more belief in your capabilities than yourself then you really must have what it takes. Empty words that hold so much meaning have never left his lips and his friends and actions can verify that.

The morning of quali, you sat down with your team and they noted the new aura that was surrounding you. Walking into the room with full purpose and confidence, no hesitation was allowed as the big smile that you had on your face told them this would be a weekend to remember. You bouncing off your team during the meeting, providing each other with insights into the car that you hadn't touched on before. This meaning that everyone walked out of that room and had their task list full, conveying all information to the rest of the mechanics and strategist about what was to come.

One chance, and you would do it being all in.

There were still some reservations from you during FP3, not wanting to overwork the car as with every stop something new was tweaked and adjusted to everyone's liking. The stability and reassurance from your team building your confidence and self esteem with every word. Re-finding yourself was seen by Jen and Max as soon as you stepped out the car and removed the helmet, hair sticking out every which way but your looks didn't dampen your smile one bit.

"There she is!" Jen beamed right back, taking the helmet out of your hands and handing over a towel. The adrenaline was still pumping through your body and you were ready to get back onto the track, the two individuals full of pride in their eyes.

"That seems more like the Y/n that used to be out on track," Max muses and Jen pats his arm in agreement, "That good feeling about the race just increased by like a thousand,"

"Me too, couldn't agree more Verstappen," Jen nodded away like a bobblehead, and jsut like that the compliments didn't stop. The other driver and your best friend bouncing off each other in comments about yourself in general and your performance, with each word from Max the blush on your face was darkening to the point you had to cover your cheeks with your hands.

You were being showered in positivity from the two people in your life that mattered the most, and you couldn't even thank them for it as every time you tried to say something they would shush you before continuing. You were also getting pulled away by your race engineer to go through quali strategy, and while that was happening you could still hear them going back and forth.

"Thank you for the pep talk back there," you finally showed your gratitude to Max, the two of you suited and booted and just waiting for the quali to begin. You both went through the routine handshake, he just smiled while looking at you, sending your heart running with butterflies before you gave your hands a quick squeeze and left for his side.

Q1 came and went, you never fell out from it so that wasn't what the team was worried about, all that was asked from you was a quick and clean lap which you provided. Q2 is where some nerves set in as you went through the wheel settings with the engineer before being sent out. Your first lap placed you in 13th spot, but with another push attempt it shot your name up and behind Charles in the 1:26s.

Then the strategy came into play with the last session.

You went out as soon as Q3 began, giving you the most time to get your tyres up to their appropriate heat. A few flying laps made you linger around P5 and 6, with each car that passed the line it was ever changing. While you settled in the pits for two minutes, Max went out to set his time, going straight to provisional pole before you were sent back out. Your teammate was still on track, providing you with a tow to gain speed into starting your flying lap.

With each twist and turn the radio was silent and you didn't dare to blink, all focus on  the tarmac ahead. Qualifying was being wrapped up so by the time you were back on the pit straight, the chequered flag was out to say this was your only real chance. You waited for the two cars to pass it behind you before anything was said.

"Y/n."

"Hugh."

"That is pole position L/n, I repeat pole position!" The words that tumbled out of your race engineer's mouth made you forget all the English words you knew. Celebration was heard in the background as you carried on round the track, tears welling in the corners of your eyes as you tried to keep them at bay. You wanted to say so much and yet nothing came out, your mouth opening and closing.

You positioned the car behind the number one, a dream becoming reality with that. After shutting off the car, you leaned against the steering wheel, pure ecstasy coursing through you as you finally let the tears fall freely. Once it finally sunk in, you couldn't get out quick enough, your hands not functioning with how much you were shaking.

You stumbled over the halo where Max and Jen were already standing, catching you in the process while screaming, everything muffled by your helmet. Hugh got in on the hugging session too after they tugged off the protective head piece, putting it down on the table. Everyone was looking at you with such wide smiles and pure joy that your tears didn't stop coming. Max had wiped them away for you before you got pulled into the interview, his thumbs lingering on your cheekbones before he finally stepped away.

"So, Y/n L/n, how does it feel finally sitting on pole position?" the reporter questioned as you put your hands on your hips, cheeks already hurting from the wide smile that wouldn't be wiped off your face in the near future.

"It is surreal," you choked out before sipping on your water, your mind having finally stopped spinning so that you could reply, "I didn't think I would be here today, but it's just so fitting,"

"And why do you find it fitting?" you were glad that he focused on that particular statement, not wanting to deal with being brought down when you were feeling on cloud nine like you knew some people would.

"By getting this pole position today I hope I proved some of the people out there wrong, I have the capabilities and deserve to be here in this seat," you grinned before continuing, your eyes more on the camera this time around, "I am just as good as any other driver on this years grid, no matter of my gender. This achievement is dedicated to those people out there that have been with me since the beginning, it is also to say that people should never give up on their dreams as you never know when it will be fulfilled." you really should have stopped there, stay neutral and make the PR team happy but you just couldn't help yourself, "Please tune in to tomorrow's race to see me disprove all the negative theories about me further."

With that finality, you thanked the reporter in front of you. Linking arms with Jen as she gave you a stern look for the out there statement, you knew that the promise may not happen and it could bite you in the ass, but damn did it feel good to say it. She guided you towards the pole trophy presentation, cameras flashed from every angle as you signed the small tyre replica.

After thanking everyone, and making sure that things were done with for the day before the debrief, you made sure to put your things away in the garage before heading out to your drivers room in the motorhome. On your way out however, you stopped in your tracks, hidden by a wall, as you heard Max answer some questions just outside in the paddock.

"I have always believed, and will continue to, that Y/n is a deserving and capable driver. She is one of the best teammates I've had so far since she holds so much potential, showing those world champion qualities with how she holds herself and drives. I think it is just disappointing how some fans and reporters treat her, everyone is held to the same respect level so why should things be different for her? People should really stop putting so much emphasis on the male aspect of the sport, without your own genders role models it is so much more difficult to get into anything, so I would consider her to be one of the most admirable people I have ever met. She also has so many achievements under her belt that some would only dream of. In my opinion, we should let go off this toxic mentality in this sport and just have some fun while racing."

His monologue struck something within you and you could feel tears well up in your eyes. You knew that Max had spoken about you without you being in the room, but just hearing him say all of that with such passion and no hesitation reinforced something within you. He wasn't just saying this because you were his teammate, you truly believed that even if you ended up for a different racing organisation, he would still think all that.

You leaned against the wall, the smile on your face having a whole other meaning that no one knew of. Your heart fluttered as you finally made your way to the motorhome, hearing the last piece of the conversation as you walked not too far behind them.

"You said a lot about Y/n back there," Bradley voiced, a smugness in his voice,

"Well, I care a lot about her so it is a shame how she is treated. No one deserves that, and especially not her," his voice was laced with as much truth as his answer to the interviewer, no grain of a lie to be distinguished. Even in private, away from cameras he felt that. After they turned a different direction, you essentially ran to your driver's room. Your cheeks hurt from smiling for so long.

____

The next morning you decided to talk to Max about what he said, your heart going into overdrive everytime you thought about his words and the way his blue eyes shined when he wiped away your tears. That moment was definitely going to get clipped by fans that supported the both of you equally. But you didn't have the time as from the moment you stepped out of your hotel room, Jen was dragging you every which way. Hyping you up with every step, making sure you were in the best mindframe for what was going to happen today.

Anytime something negative came about, you quickly batted it away, zoning it all out. Especially when it came to the media pen, if the conversation was skewing towards the bad side you quickly thanked them and moved along.

Your race engineer had you in conversation from the moment you stepped into the garage, pulling you over to the strategists before going to the mechanics and back to the data. Throwing as much information at you as he could, and you were just trying your best to absorb it all.

You saw Max enter a little while after you did, the two of you only exchanging a wave as he was also being thrown every which way by his own team. The whole garage was buzzing, and the enthusiasm didn't seem to leave anyone at any time. The team working in overdrive to make sure the two of you would come out with the best outcome possible.

You only had one-on-one time with Max right before the race, doing your routine handshake. But even then the two of you didn't really talk, both in your heads going over all the information and key strategy points. Your smiles seemed to do the job of talking though, conveying to the other what you wanted to say out loud. His blue eyes looking over at yours for a beat longer before breaking away and going to get into his own car.

Leading the formation lap only brought about the ecstasy that you felt the previous day, making sure you bathed in it for as long as possible before lining up on the grid. It was nice to not see any cars in front of your nose, the tarmac and turn the only view you had ahead. This only fuelled your emotions and the need to be in this position more often.

When the lights went out, you managed to break away from Max and Lewis who were in second and third place respectively. Despite being a few tenths ahead of them, they were still in your rear view mirrors, battling against each other for that second spot and it was starting to look dangerous. Your confidence was soaring, but when Max suddenly disappeared off to the side and didn't reemerge your heart dropped.

"Is Max okay? What just happened?'' In your frantic moment, Hamilton began putting pressure on you from behind, sitting right behind you and your focus was going in and out.

"Max and Lewis touched. Max crashed, we're waiting on more info," Hugh informed you, just as Hamilton managed to pass you before additional information came through the radio, "Red flag, that's a red flag. Get back into the pits Y/n,"

"Copy," you replied, somewhat thankful as in this headspace you didn't know how many more positions you would drop, your mind solely on the Dutchman. When you parked, you had a view of one of the big screens that was playing the crash. Your heart broke at the pure force that his car had slammed into the wall, wanting to go and be with him. But you were being logical, knowing that you couldn't do anything and that was what the safety marshals were for. Plus the race would restart soon enough.

As soon as you got to the pitwall, GP confirmed that Max was indeed ok and would be taken to hospital. All focus would now be on you to finish the race cleanly, the strategy shifting to fit with you even more if possible. Making sure you would come out on top.

Once you got back into the car, there was only one thought going through your mind. You would win this, for yourself and for Max, beating out the Mercedes driver. Wanting your teammate to still feel the joy of first place, even if it wasn't him standing on the podium and holding the trophy. Your determination was sensed by the team, and they were all short and to the point with anything they said, feeding you the most valuable information at that time.

You could do it.

You put all your energy into getting ahead of that black car that was weaving away in front of you. Following his every move as though you knew his entire plan, keeping within a second of him at all times. Attempts at overtakes were taken by you but his expertise shined through, only making your motivation grow in return. Hamilton was sticking his elbows out like his life depended on it, his racing line right as he went round the corners, hitting each apex just right.

Hugh had told you to keep the pressure on him, he would start to feel it soon enough and his mistakes would surface, that being the moment to strike.

Your driving got a bit aggressive, breaking later and going full throttle earlier. Anything to get you as close as possible in each DRS zone, until the point where finally luck was on your side and you drove alongside the Mercedes car and into one of the turns. Taking the outside line you risked it and broke into the turn later, coming out slightly ahead and overtaking him in the chicane.

Once you pulled out in front, Hugh told you to keep your head town, counting down each lap when you passed the pit wall. Not getting yourself too excited as Hamilton was still right behind you, he could pull the same move as you did so you needed to stay focused. Keep the line tight, hit each apex, don't curb on some corners like usual. With the constant thinking of each lap, the chequered flag had finally come into view and you registered that the race was over.

You had won.

"You just won," the confirmation was quiet in your ears, you slowed down the car ever so slightly as you drove the inlap. "Y/n L/n, do you copy?! You just got P1, your very first P1!"

"I can't believe it!" you finally cried out, shouting through the team radio, "I cannot fucking believe it. Thank you so much to everyone that has worked with me for this, I am so happy and so proud of you all. This place is dedicated to all you supporters out there as well as Max, I'm glad I finally fulfilled your expectations,"

Once again, you were parking behind the big number one. That ecstatic feeling overtaking your body once again as you manoeuvre your way out of the car. Hamilton and Leclerc congratulating you before you ran into the arms of the team. Hugging Jen specifically as everyone hit your helmet, you and your friend crying at the victory as she lifted your visor to shout how happy she was for you.

The podium celebration followed quickly after, and being so high up made you feel on top of the world. You just wanted to share it with Max as well as the two drivers in second and third. After showing off your trophy to everyone, you were being showered with champagne, the sticky liquid mixing with your sweat as you tried spraying the others as well. When the celebration was completed, you were drenched but the smile didn't want to leave your face. You returned to Jen's side and hugged her, even if she complained she squeezed you back just as hard.

The two of you went through the motions of doing media duties and any other responsibilities. But with each step your mind drifted to Max, wanting to share this pure and innocent joy with your teammate. You had been informed that he was back in the hotel room after numerous checks, he had went into the wall at 51G and that thought alone made you cringe. The impact was way worse than yours and he got away with similar injuries to yours, you couldn't be more thankful though, anything worse and you would've probably broken down.

After all of the fiasco post race, that was going far too slow in your opinion, you finally made your way back to the hotel. Passing by your door before going further down the corridor, knocking on Max's door until he opened it. The grimace on his face quickly turned into a full smile as his eyes lightened when they met yours.

"Are you okay?" you questioned, looking over him with probably the same expression he had on two weeks ago. Eyes scanning over him to verify what you got told back at the paddock. Even as you were passing him to get inside the room your attention didn't waver away from the Dutchman,

"I am fine, checked the seatbelts like you did but not with my consent. They do work just fine," he chuckled slightly, remembering how you tried to joke about your own crash. You scoffed at that and rolled your eyes,

"It was a way worse crash than mine, I am glad you're out of the hospital though," you smiled while taking a seat on his bed, him following suit and sitting down too but slower, the stiffness freshly settling into his muscles from the impact.

"I knew you could do it," he mused, looking over at you with such pride you didn't know how to handle it, "I smell the champagne on you for real this time," you both laughed at that, his memory of the conversation clear. It made your heart flutter, did he really remember everything the two of you had talked about?

"Those things that you said yesterday. Did you mean them?" you finally blurted out after a pause, his eyes not moving away from yours despite the blush that was going up his neck. He definitely didn't expect you to hear any of that, knowing that you rarely watched any of the interviews he thought he was in the clear. His eyes searched yours for a minute, trying to figure out what to say and how to say it.

"I want to protect you," he sighed, his honesty visible in his eyes when he leaned in a bit closer towards you, "In any way I can, off and on track, Schatje."

🏁🏁🏁🏁

Thank you for reading ♡

[prettyboykatsuki]

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

later | m. izuku 

➳ tags ;; fluff, confessions, deku is smooth, kissing, fluff, fem!reader implied i think 

➳ wc ;; 2.4k (wtf) 

➳ a/n ;; brainrot...... 

➳ plot ;; izuku midoriya listens to you when you tell him to confess to you again later. he’s waited his whole life for you but he doesn’t know how much longer he can

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

He thinks to himself often that it has to be you he’s been chasing all this time. 

This isn’t so much a revelation to him. It’s nothing like eureka moment, an aha that he uncovers after years of reflection. After all, he’s not the type to know what he really wants. 

Which is funny for many reasons but mostly because he’s a hero. He did want that, still does - but it wasn’t really an active choice. It wasn’t the desire to become a hero in terms of glamour and fame but a deep-seated knowing about the fact he had to become one. That the desire to save people above all else was rooted and deeply ingrained in him that there would never be anything that would fulfill him quite the same way. 

He finds it more often than not he’s acting out of pure instinct. Something carnal and perhaps other-worldly that pins him to the world in an almost divine way. All or nothing, there’s one way to approach existence and it’s with this unwavering desire to be kind. 

He’s always been that kind of person.

But, if he sat down and thought about it, the desire to be with you is perhaps one of his own. It’s one of the only things he’d chase to the ends of the earth. 

Izuku Midoriya has loved you since he was 14

The first time he ever confessed to you was when he was 15, about half way into his first year at U.A. It was outside of your apartment - your childhood home. He’d walk you there after his classes, when he caught you returning from your own. It was an awkward and clumsy teenage confession even then but he can remember the details clearly. 

It comes to him a series of images. Orange-yellow light that fell over your face, hairs sticking a little your head, trembling hands, ricocheting heartbeats, the sound of cars passing. He wasn’t very confident then, it makes him laugh thinking back at. But he told you anyways, bursting at the seams with his feelings. 

“I like you!” 

Your first reaction was shock immediately followed with a somber smile. Though he told you he had liked you, it was in the brief moment afterwards that he though there was more to it than that. He wouldn’t call it a rejection, but a wake-up call. You leaned in to kiss his cheek before whispering something back. 

“If you mean it,” ― you whisper, hand on his shoulder and eyes heavy ― “Tell me again later,” 

With that, you turned on your heel and went home. He wasn’t sure how to feel for a while, because it’s not like you said no. And you kissed him so that had to mean something.

Rather predictably after that, he became so caught up in hero work, it was only natural that you two grew distant. Once frequent conversations became words in passing, spoken quietly to each other. He went off to become a great hero, and you went off to study what you love. 

It was a natural occurrence - he knows this now. He wonders what kind of thinking you had to have been doing to know that at 15. The older he got, the more he thought about what you said. How the once vague mention of “later” became a narrow time-frame. Not a moment too soon and not a second too later. 

Izuku Midoriya has loved you all of 8 years. For most of them, it’s been a passive yearning. The emptiness of his bedframe and his disinterest. 8 years and he’s tried and failed to love other people. Maybe he was testing if later would ever come. 

He’s 22 and he thinks to himself that he’s been chasing the feeling of loving you this whole time. That adrenaline from when you kissed his cheek all those years ago, he wonders to himself if it’s still there

He’ll have to go find out

_ 

After a night-out, you are unfortunately sober on the walk home. Work dinners should have a general policy for how much someone can drink, you think. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to shovel your boss into a taxi and remain regrettably conscious through a series of uncomfortable or agitating questions. 

It wasn’t like he was invasive but he was.. annoying? And the fact you couldn’t sit through it by downing half a bottle of wine was a real shame . You’re so stone cold sober that your body shivers in the night air. Heels clacking against the pavement, eyes heavy and exhausted. You could endure it, you were finally going home after all. 

You’d take a warm bath and hit the hay. Your body yearned for your bed and you don’t blame it. You sigh to yourself, hands in coat pockets. 

“Just a little bit more,” ― you sigh, yawning and wiping your eyes ― “A little more and I’ll be...home?” 

You were home, the front door to your building. There was an ominous looking figure sitting on the front steps. Your first reaction was to reach into your pockets and grab your keys between your knuckles. Your heart stuttered as you broached slowly. It was too dark to see clearly but maybe he was nice. 

“Uhm.. excuse me, sir” 

When he turns his head - your first reaction is to flinch. You step back as he turns his head only to grow stiff. A pair of warm green eyes and head of forest green locks await seems to be staring back at you. He gives you a warm smile - standing on his feet. 

In a way, he’s unrecognizable to you. Though you see him all the time, Pro-Hero Deku making news, the image of him in your head is permanently small and frail. In front of you now, he’s grown up to be so big. A whole head taller than you and broad. He’s lean but clearly muscular. Intimidating in a sense. 

“Ah, you’re home,” ― he says, non-chalant. You’re trying to recall the last time you spoke to him, the last time you’d even seen him. Maybe a year ago now? ― “I wanted to talk to you,”

Your first though is to ask questions. You had so many of them though, you’re not sure where to start. You want to ask how he’s been, and how did he find you, and how’s work going. You want to ask why he’s here after all this time and if following his dreams has made him happy how he hoped. You want to ask if he remember what he said to you at 15 - wondering if he still gets caught up on it like you do. 

None of your words seem to string together right so you just shake your head a little, managing your disbelief. 

“About what?” you ask. He pauses for a second, rubbing his chin before smiling at you. 

“It’s later,”

Your eyes widen as he steps out of the way, using his hands to gesture towards your apartment. You blink at him but his smile is as cheeky as ever. Teasing and unusually handsome. You flush down to your neck before nodding. 

“Oh, uhm.. right. Okay,”―  you say, walking towards your complex doors ― “C-come on in,” 

_

“You can uh.. take your shoes off at the door,” ― you say, after taking your own heels off and rushing to the kitchen ― “The green slippers should fit you,” 

He nods as he watches you disappear to the kitchen. He takes in your apartment with a soft smile. Photos of you with your friends and family litter the entrance way. It’s filled with a soft yellow light, cozy like he’d expect. From below him, he hears a soft purr 

A beige cat walks around his legs, observing him quietly before nuzzling against his thigh. His smile grows wide as he squats down and holds his hand for the kitty, waiting for it to approve of him before reaching and petting him. The cat is quick to the jump into his forearms. 

“Who’s this?” 

He ducks as he enters into the main area of your apartment. Your eyes widen as your usually stand-offish cat nuzzles comfortably in your childhood friends chest. 

“His name is Creampuff,” ― you say, mildly stunned ― “He’s two,” 

“What a good boy,” 

Your heart races as you see him. After all this time, his presence still gives you those nervous butterflies. Maybe it’s because he’s become so attractive. Broader and taller but more rugged to look at.You feel like the floor might swallow you up. 

“I’ll.. put on some tea,” 

You take off your coat but you’re still in your work clothes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s staring at you. You’re too afraid to look behind you and see, confirm but his gaze is so heavy you’re almost certain. He traces the outline of your body and back with his eyes. 

He can’t help but think you’ve filled out some. Even from behind - you look awfully pretty. You look disheveled and sleepy like you did back in highschool, after cramming for exams. A little older now with that same cute expression on your face. It’s hard to hold back or tear himself from you - so he doesn’t try. He just watches as you pour the tea into mugs and let it steep. Minutes pass and it’s quiet but not as uncomfortable as you’d expect. 

You return to your kitchen table with two mugs, setting his down on a coaster. 

“Careful.. it’s hot,” 

He nods, taking the mug in his hands and blowing on it before taking a sip. He hums. 

“Ah.. it’s good. Thank you,” 

A silence settle between you briefly. Your heart is in your throat, hands trembling a little on the table. When he notices, he reaches for them. This is another of his habits, you think. Comforting people must be second nature to him, but it only makes you more nervous.

“So.. how’ve you been?” 

It’s the only thing you can think to ask. He studies your expression for a while. It used to the opposite of this. He used to be the nervous one, stuttery and unsure. You were always confident and steady - he’s sure you still are. This side of you is endearing though. He chuckles. 

“I’ve been good. Work is hectic but that’s always,” ― and you’re going to ask him another question. Dodge what he’s really here for, but he cuts you off ― “I’ve missed you though, so I came to visit,” 

You can feel it. This tension that presses against your back and makes you sit straight. He has that determined look in his eyes, easily recognizable when you watch him. In interviews and during fights and everything in between - like he knows what he’s going up against. To have it directed at you is so nerve-wracking, you find yourself doling under the pressure of his gaze. 

You fidget, voice shaking like a leaf in the wind. He was always too much for to you handle. 

“O-oh?,” 

He nods, taking your hand in his. He holds it to his lips, kisses your knuckles like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You wonder where he learned to act like this. He’s different but the same. It’s too much for you so you shut your eyes. 

He stands until he’s on your side of the table. Rests on the corners edge with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks at you with fondness, an unmistakable affection. After all these years, it’s only grown. Double and tripled in size. No matter how much he would try and punch it down, it never deflates. 

He thinks loving you is an act of heroism. The only way he could ever really save himself. 8 years and it feels like you’re old friends. Nothing unnatural or wholly uncomfortable. It’s strange. 

“I thought about what you said. About telling you later. This time though,” ― he drops to the floor, crouched between your legs so slightly. He does it to look straight at you ― “This time though, I have to tell you properly so you can’t make me wait again,” 

“I wasn’t making you wait,” you insist. He takes your hand in his and you unravel, body slumped. He kisses the palms of your hands, the inside of your wrist and it feels like gravity has no mercy on you. 

“It felt like hell,” ― he tells you ― “I can’t sit still anymore so I’m telling you now. Even if you want to run away, I can’t let you,” 

You frown, heart rapid. 

“That’s not very heroic,” 

He smiles. 

“Good. I don’t wanna be your hero. I just want to love you selfishly as Izuku and not Deku,” ― he says, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles ― “So tell me you love me back and grant my wish. I waited all this time,” 

You’re stunned into silence at his request. Eyes feeling especially water as he leans into you. It doesn’t make sense but it feels right. Your heart is beating - like you can feel all the blood pumping in you and your head feels light. 

“You say it so easily,” 

He laughs. It’s bright just like how you remember. 

“How could you know after all this time? How could you be sure?” 

He shrugs. You hit his shoulder at the nonchalance but he only chuckles. He  leans in closer to you, inches away from your face. 

“I waited for you all this time. Shouldn’t you give me a chance to show you?” 

You sniffle as his hands cup your cheeks. His smile is so inviting, how could you refuse him?

“I’d like to kiss you,”  ― he pauses, shaking his head  ― “I want to show you. Let me,” 

You nod as he leans into you. His lips are pillow and soft - touch addicting. You give into him so easily, tongue tied. He keeps you close, hand at the base of your neck. It feels so good, so perfect. You believe him when he kisses you like this With secrets under his tongue, between his teeth. 

“Tell me your answer,”  ― he demands, soft but stern  ― “You didn’t before. I need to hear it,” 

You give him an exasperated laugh. 

“I love you.. obviously” 

Right. Obviously indeed. 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

[thewriterthatghostedyou]

Shadows and Scars

Chapter 15

OK OK OK I AM SO SO HAPPY WITH HOW THIS CHAPTER TURNED OUT!!!!!!!!! Things are really picking up now! Also, I lowkey am realizing that I accidentally wrote this reader kind of like Alina’s plot so I’m trying to make sure that I branch off from that.

Note: This is a darkish chapter,so the trigger warnings are below. Also, veryyyyyy plot heavy and angsty with a capital A.

Trigger warnings: mind control, angst, slight mention of non con if you squint, talk of death and murder, manipulation, possessive, jealous, and controlling darkling

Banner made by maysdigitalarts

After much pacing around your room, you had decided to meet him. You really didn’t want to, but he still was your general and according to him, you’d be a part of his guard. You’d have to be able to act civil with each other.

You’d come a long way these past few weeks, and you’d have to rely that the work you put into yourself would be enough for you to not fall into bad habits.

So around midnight, there you were. Standing in front of his war room door, hand poised to knock while the other clenched your cane tightly.

You took a deep breath, and before you could think, knocked on the massive door.

You heard a muffled “Enter.” From the other side, and you pulled the door open. As youclosed the door behind you, you saw Aleksander without his kefta, his long black shirt bunched at his elbows and he, as always, was wearing black trousers.

You said nothing, opting him to start the conversation and see why he had asked you here. He gave you a weary smile as he leaned off of his desk and stood up, before his face settled into a grim line.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“My training has picked up significantly.” You responded. “I’ve been fairly busy.”

His jaw ticked at that. “Ah yes, I suppose I should congratulate you.” He shuffled through the papers on his desk and you furrowed your brow.

“I’m sorry?” You tilted your head.

“Your friend who was just stationed in Kribirsk.” He smiled at your shocked expression. “Kozlov. I believe.” Andrei’s last name confirming what you had feared.

“What did you do?” You asked softly.

“What did I do?” His voice rose aggressively. “What did I do?” He asked incredulously. “What did you do?” He seethed. “You just stop showing up for no reason, and expect me to accept that?”

“I was focusing on my training!” You shouted. “Something you asked me to do!”

“Oh so you just forgot to even acknowledge me for two weeks?” He swiped at his desk, causing the paper there to fly off the edge of the table. “I’m sure your new friends kept you very busy.” His voice was venomous as he stormed over.

“Well maybe I just wanted to be around someone who actually cared about me.” You hissed in his face. “Maybe I cared about you enough to let chase your sun summoner. To try and let you be happy.”

He started to laugh at that. “So that’s what this is about.” He turned his back to you and walked away. “My sun summoner.” He paused and turned back to you.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her! The way you talk about her! Just now you referred to her as ‘your’ sun summoner. I truly am fine with it, Alina deserves happiness, but I just don’t want to be led on like this! I deserve to be happy too!”

“You’re right.” His voice grew eerily cold. “She is mine, but so are you.”

“I-“ You felt your voice physically catch in your throat as he lazily raised his hand. And your body seemed to lock in place.

He sighed, looking at you with mock sympathy, walking towards you with even strides. “You know, when I first felt all of your emotions, all of what the bond entailed, I despised it. Despised how human you were.” He spat the word human out and stopped in front of you. “So I tried to ignore it. Ignore you. After all, you were expendable, a pawn that I could twist to fit where I needed one. I sent you through the fold time and time again, testing your limits, never even giving you a second thought.”

You internally flinched as he gently ran the back of his hand down your cheek. You tried not to focus on your heart shattering at his callous admission.

“But that changed, a year ago, I believe. I felt something new. Something that even I couldn’t push down and ignore. And it was for him.” He growled, gripping your face tightly. “That brat who had been there, he practically never left your side. You practically had him on a leash.” Ruslan. Your mind supplied, thinking back to last year, when you were certain that he and you would be together. Remembering the feelings you had had for the man, you felt a tear roll out.

“What did you do?” You asked again, shakily as the ability to talk came back.

He gave you a cruel smile. “I made you forget. Forget how you felt, thought that’d be the end of it. But I hadn’t expected the bond to open.” He started mumbling to himself. He sighed. “Unfortunately the form of merzost I used was highly unpredictable. So the second I went into your head, the second I allowed myself in, everything changed.” He released you as if you had burned him. “All those feelings I had hated, all that human inside of you? Was just the surface.” He chuckled darkly.

“All of the things you felt, all of you came flooding in and I realized at that moment why I hated you.” He scoffed. “I hated that you could feel when I hadn’t been able to for centuries. I hated that your anger was so consuming and that your joy was so blissful.” He continued his monologue, not even noticing his slip.

“But most of all, I hated how he made you feel. How I hadn’t been able to feel like that for years. How I eventually, unknowingly had begun to feel again. About you.” He ranted, looking crazed.

“You’re the Black Heretic.” You breathed softly.

He gave you a proud smile. “You truly are as brilliant as I knew you’d be.”

“You created the fold.” Your mind started to connect all of the horrible things he’d done. “You created the volcra. You sent me through.” You screamed the last sentence and fought against whatever control he had over you, but to no avail. The tears that poured down your face now were not out of sadness, but anger.

“Not just you.” He said easily, still smiling. “Everyone in my way. Our way. Haven’t you wondered why your friend hadn’t been responding to your pathetic letters?” He ripped open his drawer and fished out a handful of paper. You felt as if ice had been poured over you.

“You son of a bitch.” You whispered.

“What? It’s not like she’d be able to read them.” He shrugged, walking over to the fireplace and throwing them in without a second thought. “I sent her through the fold the week we left. And just as I had expected, she didn’t make it halfway through. Even if she had, I’m sure that the Fjerdans would have gotten a hold of her eventually.”

You felt your soul burn in agony as the depth of his words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“No...” you whimpered, feeling less and less control over your limbs.

“I had hoped to tell you all this sometime in the far future, but I guess I have to improvise.” He flicked his fingers again and you robotically began to walk over to his room, numb with the loss of your friend.

If he was put off by your silence, he didn’t say anything about it, instead making you lay on the bed. His hands gently caressed your leg before undoing your shoes and brace.

He gave you a hungry look as he climbed in next to you and wrapped his arms around your chest. You felt a shiver run up your back as he pulled the covers over the two of you. “Get some sleep my love.” He said soothingly, running his fingers through your hair. “Tomorrow I won’t be nearly as patient as I have been.”

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults, with Dr. Lyell Asher. Includes:

Introduction: Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 1) 1965-75: The Decisive Decade

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 2): College Administrators

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 3): Administrator Training

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 4): University of Delaware Re-Education

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 5): Mainstreaming Microaggressions

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 6): Yale's Halloween Hustle

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 7): Why Authoritarians Love "Intention vs. Impact"

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 8): Ed Schools: Weak Academics & Woke Politics

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 9): From Justice to Social Justice

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 10): Social Justice Illiteracy

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 11): The Knowledge Gap

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 12): The Reading Debacle

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 13): How Ed Schools Won

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 14): Things You Can Do: Higher Ed

Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults (Part 15): Things You Can Do: K-12 Schools

==

Introductory article: Dr. Lyell Asher: Why Colleges Are Becoming Cults

The series doesn’t of course tell the whole story of higher education’s descent into Woke orthodoxy—it couldn’t. But it does connect a few of the most important phases in that descent to a 100-year history of so-called “progressive”—but in effect, regressive—pedagogical theory in the nation’s k-12 teacher training schools. Despite the great work of writers and researchers like James Koerner, Diane Ravitch, Rita Kramer, John Taylor Gatto, and E.D. Hirsch, to name just a few, that history is largely unknown—not only to the public at large, but to college faculty as well.

At least where faculty are concerned, it’s unlikely that knowing that history and its disastrous consequences for minority and low-income students especially, would dampen their willingness to allow, and often encourage, the abandonment of the fundamental academic values on which their own disciplines have been built. However much the professoriate may identify with the principled freedom of Galileo and Darwin, it does so only in retrospect, after the dust has settled and the victors have been announced. In the moment, it always follows the example of the Church.

But that’s an old story. As I believe Christopher Hitchens once said (I’ve been unable to verify my memory), “There is no more cowardly creature on god’s green earth than a professor with tenure.”

==

This is a rather stunning expose of the current dysfunction in US higher education. It explains that the problem and corruption goes back longer than you think, and isn't with academics like you might suspect.

Dr. Lyell Asher traces the current assault on free speech and academic freedom and integrity back from its origins over 100 years ago, through K-12 education today, and its source in the low standards and ideological pseudoscience of the diploma mills known as America's Schools of Education.

A domain so corrupt that it refuses to even teach kids how to read correctly on purely ideological grounds. The same domain that insists that it alone holds the solutions to the gaps in educational equity... gaps that it created in the first place.

What becomes clear is that the US has everything it needs to fix its educational woes - the studies, the science, the statistics, the reports, the effective, tested pedagogies, everything.

It can fix its problems, but for quasi-theological reasons, it just won't.

All up, it's over an hour in length, but very compelling.