#last lesson on monday was terrible to be fair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Thursday (Part 2) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself.

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win.

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!”

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them.

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points.

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders.

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed.

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough.

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once.

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed.

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation.

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out.

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history.

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test.

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test.

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them.

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain.

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike.

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match.

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump.

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down.

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did.

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly.

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them.

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly.

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home.

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out.

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot.

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!”

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually.

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp.

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders.

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations.

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all.

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better.

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you.

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest.

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears.

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.”

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient.

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back.

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang.

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway.

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

2K notes · View notes

trothplighted · 2 years

Note

PLEASE MORE GRINDELDORE AS PROFS IN HOGWARTS AU.

YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND

I HAVE TO USE THIS SPACE TO LAY THE GROUNDWORK SO THERE'LL BE MORE GRINDELWALD CONTENT IN A LATER INSTALLMENT BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY

Monday, 2 September, 1974. the morning after the full moon.

"So!"

Someone - presumably Sirius Black, but one could never be too certain this early in the morning - slammed himself down onto the bench, practically bouncing back up again when the wood finally remembered it had some give. His schoolbooks smacked into the table with a crack that set the breakfast plates on both sides to rattling, earning him a stern look from Sturgis Podmore, who sat further up the table, angling himself on the bench to display his Head Boy badge to the largest amount of people possible at one time.

"Sorry!" he loudly whispered. "Won't do it again!" The look on his face, as far as the boy beside him could tell, didn't indicate either contrition or a lesson learned, but as he hadn't done anything worse - yet - he only earned a sigh from Sturgis as the rest of the Gryffindors returned to their food.

"So," Sirius said again, clapping an arm around said boy with enough force to realign every bone in his body. "Welcome back to the land of the living!"

"Mmngh," his companion answered, poking at a bowl of porridge with about as much enthusiasm as a flesh-eating slug faced with a diet of only grass. This meant, roughly, go jump in the lake and get eaten by the squid, but Sirius was never one to pay attention to obvious signs, and he blazed ahead with all enthusiasm.

"We missed you at the feast last night," he said. "'Course, I understand - the night sky's much better company than we are."

The boy - Remus Lupin, fair-haired and slender in contrast to Sirius's darkly handsome good looks that had already earned him a legion of admirers among the girls in his year - groaned, shrugging off the hand that had draped itself around his bony shoulders.

"That's a terrible joke, if it's meant to be one," he observed, blinking balefully at his friend.

"Good," Sirius replied airily, "your sense of humor's intact. Can't have that fatally incapacitated by your sickness."

"My sense of humor wants to tear your head off," Remus muttered, returning back to the sad-looking porridge. "Anyway, do you have to shout? It's too bloody early."

"It's almost nine o'clock," countered a third voice, this one belonging to a lanky boy with hair that stuck out from his head in all directions and a pair of round glasses that perched on the end of his nose as if the only thing keeping them there was his insistence they behave. "And we've got Defense in half an hour. I just got our schedules from McGonagall." He brandished a few sheets of parchment at the other two; Sirius leaned over and snatched one, examining it intently.

"Oh, fantastic," Remus muttered, stabbing a spoon into his bowl as if it could kill the nausea that still lay thickly on his stomach. "Exactly what I needed today. Thank you, James, you've single-handedly saved me."

"We're fourth-years now," the bespectacled boy told him. "No more Dark creatures, which means no more lectures on the evils of you-know-whats." His voice dropped conspiratorially.

Remus didn't laugh, but did consider lobbing a lump of porridge right into his face. He decided against it, instead asking "Where's Peter?"

"You missed it," James informed him. "He's late, he got spattergroit when he was on holiday. He'll be starting next week."

"Is he all right?"

"Oh, yeah, it wasn't a bad case, but he's still contagious."

"And there's a new professor," Sirius added, shoving a buttered scone into his mouth halfway through the sentence

"There's always a new professor," Remus said.

"Not like this," James cut in. "This one's foreign." He slapped the parchment onto the table, pointing to a name that Remus was obliged to read upside-down. "Gregor Weiss. See?"

"He's the new Head of Slytherin House," Sirius added, still mostly chewing on his scone. "Dumbledore announced it last night, but Reg got a letter over the summer about it."

"What?" Remus asked. "But what about Slughorn?"

"Oh, he's still Potionmaster," James said. "Look, his name's still there."

"Why would he get the sack for half the job but not all of it?"

"No idea," James shrugged. "Sirius, cough up, you're our man on the inside."

"Am not."

"What do you call having a family full of bloody Slytherins?"

"Bad luck."

"Except you do know something," Remus countered, and when their eyes met Sirius groaned and finally swallowed the last of his scone.

"Reg complained about it for three days straight," he said, picking up a glass of pumpkin juice and taking a long drink that was somehow meant to be obnoxious. "Finally, Mother told him that it was a good thing, as Professor Weiss has a Durmstrang education -"

"He what?"

"Am I telling the story or aren't I, James?"

"Fine! But - Durmstrang?"

"Durmstrang. Apparently one of their top students, in his day. Very notorious in the right circles. Mother was impressed. She thinks this indicates Dumbledore might finally be getting the right idea about the direction Slytherin House ought to be taking."

"But - it's full to bursting with Dark stuff, everyone knows that!"

"I almost went to Durmstrang," Remus announced, cutting James off before he could go on one of his long rambling tirades against Dark magic.

"What?"

"They take werewolves, don't they? And Veela, and half-elves, and all those sorts of creatures. Besides, both of you are missing the really interesting bit of all this."

"... which is?"

Both his friends' eyes were on him, and that was almost enough to make Remus grin.

"If Professor Weiss is the new Head of House, he's planning to stay. Which means -"

"Which means he broke the curse," Sirius interrupted.

"Which means he's got to be powerful," James finished.

All three boys turned their heads to peer up at the staff table, and the conspicuously empty seat belonging to the Defense professor. Whoever he was, they'd know soon enough.

#troth's fanfiction #long post #hogwarts professor au #I must remind everyone that I have not and never will read ATYD #so these characters' interpretations are distinct from that fic's

45 notes · View notes

bamfdaddio · 3 years

Text

X-Men Abridged: 1981 - the Body-Swap

The X-Men, those body-swapping mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. We’ve been untangling that history for a while, but sometimes, you really want a more in-depth look. Interested? Then read the (un)Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 151 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and Josef Rubinstein

Emma Frost and her frenemy Ororo Munroe have not been getting along! One fateful evening, as the two quibble away, they mysteriously switch bodies and minds. Talk about your Freaky Friday! What lessons will they learn, walking a mile in one another’s shoes? And will they be able to switch back, or will they stay in each other’s bodies forever? Mutant Monday, coming soon to a cinema near you. Starring: Elizabeth Banks, Angela Bassett and Elliot Page. (PG-13)

For a moment, we’re in a proper period drama: a letter delivers ill tidings!

I love that Kitty’s parents are so self-involved that it took them A WHOLE YEAR to realize that it’s weird that Kitty is the only non-adult attending the Xavier Institute.

I can only assume the mailman interrupted a pool party of some kind? Or a communal shower? I get why Kurt would not swim a lot - all that fur - but did Scott wear that while they were splashing around? Was it a beach volleyball competition where one half got to wear swimsuits and the other half superhero costumes? Most importantly, was Scott’s costume always this tight?

Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

The awful thing is that Kitty’s parents are transferring her to the Massachusetts Academy, not realizing that headmistress Emma Frost is, in fact, a terrible human being. Charles, uncharacteristically, says that changing their minds telepathically is a line he does not cross (any more) and half the viewing audience bursts out in laughter. More importantly, last they saw Emma, she was kind of dead-by-Phoenix, so it might be better there this time? Kitty does a Classic Teenage Stomp-Off and Storm comes to comfort her. Kitty cries that life is unfair (“My parents are only doing this because they’re splitting up”) and Ororo tells her that yes, life is unfair. You just gotta roll with the punches as best you can.

To be fair, bald men are technically all cheek, so it doesn’t matter where you kiss them.

While I enjoy the relationship Kitty has with the other X-Men (Scott gave her a compliment! Logan told her his name!), especially the mother-daughter-bond she shares with Ororo, the whole Piotr-thing always gives me pause. Even if we’re being very generous with age, Kitty is, what? 14 going on 15? And Piotr is… 19? At best? I get why Kitty would have a crush on him: he’s a gentle hunky giant: at fifteen, my teenage ass would have felt the exact same viz-a-viz Colossus’ upper arms. The fact that Piotr reciprocates feels skeevy, though, especially because they’re always treated like star-crossed idiots these days.

Skee-vy.

Ororo drives Kitty to Massachusetts, where her young ward is greeted by someone named Muffy and whisked away for orientation. All seems well. Ororo stands in a parlour, surveying the grounds and considering that they should have fought harder for Kitty. Still, nothing seems too wrong just yet: this Academy just seems very preppy.

Not-at-all-dead Emma takes her cue and jumps out, saying (essentially): “Surprise motherfucker.”

There’s a flash of light, and then...

I’m willing to bet that Emma’s EVIL journal has the following to-do-list: - Steal Storm’s body. - Experiment with her powers. - See how good Storm looks in white. (Leather? Fur?! Both!??) - REWARD: Smoke break.

I wonder if Emma’s plan hinged on being able to body-swap with Storm, or whether any X-Man would have sufficed. Was her original target Xavier? Cyclops? What if one of Kitty’s parents had brought her to Massachusetts, would she have taken Kitty instead?

In a locked cell, Storm wakes up in Emma’s body and is horrified. I wonder why Emma didn’t take any more precautions. Couldn’t the guy who made the freaky friday-gizmo also make a power dampener to nullify not!Emma’s telepathic abilities? Or did Emma count on her victim being so utterly incapacitated by her mind-powers that they’d be driven mad? (This would actually tie in with some of Emma’s later-revealed history: when her powers first emerged, she also got locked away in a padded room because of her madness.)

Emma is not wrong, by the way: Storm can’t get a handle on Emma’s powers. What follows is possibly the sweetest moment in an arc filled with sweet moments:

This arc isn’t drawn by any of the regulars - not Byrne, not Cockrum - but Josef Rubinstein brings his own kind of panache to the pages. I love the way he draws women’s faces: in a story that’s all about women, their faces are actually distinguishable. Kudoz.

Emma, meanwhile, coordinates with Sebastian Shaw to execute the second part of their two-pronged attack on the X-Men. They both laugh evilly in their phones while the mansion is attacked by Sentinels! These androids take out Cyclops and Xavier with some sleeping gas and knock out Nightcrawler, but the rest of the X-Men manage to trounce these robots. Then ‘Storm’ appears! She zaps the rest of the X-Men (and Amanda Sefton), successfully finishing their master-plan.

It’s not entirely clear what the Hellfire Club wants with the X-Men this time, but I’m assuming it’s more experimentation to improve the sentinels? Eh, doesn’t matter! Nefarious Hellfire Club is nefarious.

The real Storm, meanwhile, comes to claim Kitty, forgetting that she looks like the one and only Emma Frost. Kitty spooks and Storm accidentally reaches out, knocking her out telepathically. Whoops! Storm takes Kitty and flees in a car, while Emma gives chase. (How dare Ororo run off with her body, which is absolutely the kind of hypocritical hilariousness we all love Emma for.)

Kitty awakens and jumps from the car, causing Storm to swerve and...

JETSTREAM!? Speaking of which, where are the Hellions in all of this?

Kitty sees that an unconscious ‘Emma’ is about to burn to a tender and moist little crisp and she is faced with the hero’s dilemma: would you save a villain that would never save you?

Emma, meanwhile, has realized the downside to body-swapping: somebody else gets to run around with your body too. Shaw, of all people, talks her down from her anger.

You can’t just introduce a persona exchange gun to the plot WITHOUT EXPLAINING WHERE THE FUCK YOU GOT IT FROM.

My favorite detail is that Emma keeps calling Kitty brat, like she’s some sort of Pokémon-villain.

Kitty, meanwhile, has saved ‘Emma’ and tied her up with a special knot. Storm tries to convince Kitty, going for the “ask me something only Storm would know”, but Kitty’s all: “Duh, you’re a telepath.” Ororo insists, but the thing that clinches it is when she breaks free of her ties without breaking a sweat. That knot was taught to Kitty by Ororo and she’d be the only one who knew how to break out of it.

Storm and Kitty recruit Stevie Hunter to come pick them up and during the ride, Storm-being-angry-mother!Storm convinces Kitty more than anything else:

After all, Storm was voted most likely to say: “If you don’t stop this nonsense immediately, I will turn this Blackbird around, so help me God!”

Ororo and Kitty sneak inside. Ororo even uses Emma’s telepathy to help her pick a lock after phasing through a door. (Kind of funny: Kitty’s still such a neophyte that she can’t even phase with anyone else yet.) Emma, meanwhile, taunts the captured X-Men, presenting herself as the new white queen:

Anybody feel the inclination to point out that the Hellfire Club did this exact same thing last year, except then they tried it with a redhead?

I secretly suspect that the Hellfire Club’s plots always revolve around seducing X-Men to their side and dressing them up in sexy lingerie. (Which: fair.) There’s also a subplot where the guys Wolverine cut apart last year want to exact revenge on him for being made bionic, but eh. We’ll start paying attention to them when they become actual Reavers.

Kitty phases through the locks of the X-Men, freeing them, and a kerfuffle ensues. Emma starts using Storm’s powers, but they grow out of control. Colossus tosses Shaw out of the window - which should just be company policy, really: all Shaws should be defenestrated - where he’s promptly hit by a rogue thunderbolt.

When he doesn’t get up, Emma starts to lose it. The weather goes wild. Storm intervenes, using her telepathic power to help calm down Emma (and the raging storm), but she also manages to get a hold of the swap-gun. There’s a zap, and with a satisfied sigh, the status-quo is restored again.

My favorite implication is that, apparently, Emma decides which school Kitty attends and not her parents.

While this little arc is neither the most iconic nor the most profound of 1981 -- those would be Days of Future Past and I, Magneto, respectively -- I still love this for a couple of reasons.

As a lover of Freaky Friday, 17 Again and the new Jumanji-film, I just have a soft spot for body swap plots. (Hi Psylocke!)

It focuses on the Xavier Institute as a school, planting seeds for the upcoming New Mutants.

It is very female-driven without beating you over the head with it. (Looking at you, Birds of Prey.)

It has three definitive main characters, who all get fleshed out in fun and interesting ways. It starts the trend of robbing Ororo of some of her powers and tossing her into against-the-odds circumstances, only for her to come out on top.

It solidifies the Storm/Kitty mother/daughter (or older/younger sibling) dynamic. Kitty is a believable teenager when it comes to Storm - clever and kind, but also looking for answers and prone to rash decisions - and I love how much they care for each other.

Jean/Storm-friendship-callback, yay!

Emma gets fleshed out as a villain. Resourceful and petty, powerful and vain. It’s no wonder she’s one of the break-out antagonists of the X-Men, because, like Magneto, Claremont is not afraid of giving her depth. Arguably, she is the most three-dimensional of the Hellfire Club at this point.

Yay! And fuck completely sensible plots, if you don’t know what to do with your plot, just introduce a random persona exchange gun. Let’s use it on Xavier and Legion in Way of X next!

#x-men abridged #abridged x-men #x-men #storm #professor x #kitty pryde #uncanny x-men #emma frost #cyclops #nightcrawler #stevie hunter #colossus #sebastian shaw

46 notes · View notes

angrypomerianian · 3 years

Text

asexual bakubabe! and he’s hella supportive of midoriya and todoroki’s relationship. (he doesn’t show it, but he is. he also cares about the two of them even if he won’t admit it.) mina and denki get told off, but they are good people! denki is also just taught wrong, as people aroung him have been telling him that. he gets better!

also, this is also kind of my rant fic so details may be a little messy!

izuku woke up in todoroki’s arms. he tried to get up, but he only tightened his arms even more. izuku smiled, thinking how blessed he was to have such a nice boyfriend.

a voice drifted from downstairs, “izuku, shouto, get up or your going to be late!”

his mother had walked in on them once, which was mortifying, but she was very supportive. she had burst into tears, of course, which was awkward for shouto, but after that they built a nice relationship.

after that, inko also decided to buy some earplugs. because of the... night time activities. yes, that’s what we’ll call it.

shouto slowly woke from his slumber, groaning and twisting around in the fluffy blanket. izuku patted his cheek, and his eyes opened.

“good morning, izu.” izuku giggled. that was something shouto and kacchan called him, as they were his closest friends. kacchan would never admit it but the three knew it was true.

“good morning, shouto!”

shouto sat up, groaning and stretching. he started picking up his uniform and other strewn clothes covered in a sticky substaces, if you know what i mean.

they went downstairs to be greeted by inko and plates filled with pancakes and fruit.

it was a monday, and what a beautiful day it was. the grass was green, the sky was blue, and the sun was shining. shouto and izuku were walking together, pinkies slightly touching. they’d been in a relationship for a few months, keeping it a secret as they were afraid of their opinions.

they walked into the classroom, and many students were already there. they said their hellos to uraraka and iida, sitting down in their respective seats.

katsuki entered next, giving a nod to the couple. he’d already known about their relationship because he accidently walked in on them making out.

they didn’t notice, but they heard him screach, drop a bunch of things, and fall to the floor. they looked at him, his eyes widened with shock and disgust, and they immediately thought he was homophobic.

shouto was already ready to tell him off, but katsuki interupted him, “jesus FUCK you idiots! what the fuck are you doing making out in the FUCKING LOCKER ROOM!? go to the dorm room or some shit, an a s e x u a l student is trying to FUCKING CHANGE!”

they were both surprised. they’d already known that katsuki had no sexual interests, but they were shocked by the support. of course, he found out in the worst way possible, but they had a friend (katsuki will never admit it) that supported them.

izuku impatiently waited for class to end, he wanted to go home with shouto and spend some alone time together on this beautiful day.

izuku was wrong. it was a terrible, terrible day because both denki and mina were teaming up on them.

mina giggled, “it seems like you and todoroki got closer, don’t you think?”

denki nodded, “you both are on first name basis, too.”

izuku squeaked, “we’re best friends!”

“you were best friends at the beginning of the year, too!” denki put in.

“i think it’s love!“ mina said.

iida waved his arms around, “that’s a little intrusive, mina!” commanding as ever.

mina waved a hand dismissively, “whatever, this boy needs some love! and maybe some sex while he’s at it!”

izuku squeaked, and the girls’ cheeks reddened. sero started laughing. even katsuki’s eyes wavered slightly, unfocused. “i need no such thing!” izuku wheezed.

"it's like none of you have thought about it before. come on, we're all healthy teens. sexual tension is flying, and some of it most definitely needs to be resolved!" she exclaimed, gesturing with open palms. then she looked around wildly.

denki also agreed. "sex. mina and i have experience in the arts of knowing these things, and we are here to counsel you. you're hopeless, the lot of you." she pointed at ochaco. "you need sex." he pointed at kirishima. "you need sex." katsuki. "you need sex. teenagers need sex, adults need sex. it's a natural part of life! but you two..." denki faced izuku and shouto, grinning. “you’ve already had it, didn’t you? it was recent.”

shouto was struggling to keep his poker face, and was fuming silently next to him. they were all silent, until katsuki exploded. it wasn’t one of those loud explosions either. his facade of not paying attention was shattered, and he slowly stood up, hands banging against the table, so loud that everyone startled.

katsuki was furious. anger rolled off him in waves. "enough!" katsuki wasn’t yelling, or giving off explosions. he was hissing, but was still loud enough for everyone to hear. "stop spreading your shit. sex is not necessary. sex is not for teens. not for us anyway. sex is for love or pleasure or not at all. don't spread your lies. you're absolute perverts, we're all only 16. i don't care what you two do in your own time, but you do not poison anyone else. i already have to put up with you all enough of the time without this shitty talk. so let me tell you this, nice. and. clear." he leaned over to where mina and denki sat, wide-eyed and terrified. "you say i need sex? let me teach you something new. you've never been able to accept that I don't fucking like to be among people socially, but perhaps you'll understand this; i don't need sex. i don't need touch. i loathe it. and right now, i loathe you. now i reccomend you both leave now, before i loathe you enough to move past words."

denki and mina couldn’t move faster. the entire table was silent, and katsuki was still fuming, watching them leave. he sat back into his hair, and carded his fingers through his fair. “jesus fuck.”

he stood up, and marched the opposite direction, also taking shouto and izuku with him. they left the cafeteria, leaving the class to sit in silence.

“well, i don’t need the sex talk with my parents right now?” momo tried.

katsuki pushed them against the wall, silent and tense. shouto was stiff, fists still clenched. katsuki rubbed a hand over his face, “shit, sorry about intruding like that. they just really pissed me off.”

shouto relaxed, and so did izuku. “thank you, kacchan!” “thank you, katsuki.”

he rolled his eyes, “whatever, i need to have a talk with those two.”

he left, leaving those two alone. shouto and izuku returned to the room, where the class was looking at them. kirishima put a hand on shouto’s shoulder, “he didn’t hurt you right?”

shouto immediately scowled, “no he fucking helped us. you shouldn’t be called his best friend if you’re going to doubt him like that.”

kirishima looked shocked, just like the rest of him, and the two left the room again. they heard katsuki talking to mina and denki, scolding them harshly.

“you two are unbelievable, you know that?” denki had the deceny to look a little ashamed, but mina looked like she was confused.

“those two have been dancing around each other, do you know how annoying it is to have to listen to each others rants about how amazing they think the other is? and they were worried that you guys would put them down, finding them disgusting. i saw you spying on them, like the nosey bitches you are, and i asked you not to bring it up. you agreed, even went as far as promise me, and you had the audacity to bring it up in front of everyone?”

“b-but it was gossip!” mina tried to protest. katsuki gave her the flattest look ever.

“yeah, and they were trying to avoid it, but you fuckmunches nearly gave it away. do you understand how they must’ve felt? it was lunch time. everyone was there, and you just had to bring it up in that room. couldn’t you have waited a little and ask them privately?”

“b-but what did we disrupt talking about sex?”

“because the two of them are in a secret relationship, which was supposed to be a secret, and just like how mineta was reacting to that, people aren’t very welcoming of two genders liking each other. they were terrified that you would bring that up, and you did. if i hadn’t intervened, you would’ve spilled it, wouldn’t you?”

mina and denki looked down in shame. they wanted to say no, they wouldn’t, but it was obvious they would’ve.

“b-but they’re liking the same gender!” denki protested.

"yes, kaminari. gay. does that threaten you?" katsuki responded in monotone, although they could both see the venomous eyes . "do you not remember what i said in the cafeteria? jesus fucking christ, not everything is cut straight and narrow like you. people are a whole range of colours you know. personally, i prefer shades of grey, but it does appear that shouto and izuku prefer blue, or the rainbow, or whatever you want to colour it. homosexual, queer, gay. but maybe you're more accustomed to terms such as faggot."

shouto and izuku were in shock by the ramble that katsuki went on. he doesn’t usually talk this much, but he seemed very set on supporting them and crushing anyone who were set on otherwise.

“if you have a problem with it, i’ll need to you leave the building. i hope you learned your lesson, but like i said in the cafeteria, if i start loathing you enough then i’ll be going past words.”

denki crossly looked at katsuki, “they’re wrong.”

katsuki lost his last line of patience. he punched the wall next to him, leaving a hole in the wall. “you’re wrong.”

kaminari pass out, and mina spoke up quietly, “you’re a good friend, katsuki. going that far to support them.”

he didn’t even spare a glance at her, “you no longer have the right to use my frist name. until i say so, you’ll be addressing me as bakugou. none of those childish nicknames either.”

when aizawa and all might checked the security cameras, they were in shock of the two student’s behavior, though it was expected. what was not expected, however, was that katsuki full on supported them. when they checked the other footages, anyone who said something was then seen bulldozed by one bakugou katsuki.

they decided to hold an emergency assembly, focusing on the importance of welcoming everyone, also playing the footage clip of katsuki telling the two off.

the class was half surprised about todoroki and midoriya, but welcomed them either way. kirishima also hugged the life out of katsuki until he almost lost an arm.

that day, the only two to survived katsuki’s wrath was the couple who’d sent him a gift basket filled with spicy sauce bottles.

#asexual character #bakugou katsuki #tododeku #todoroki shouto #mina ashido #kaminari denki #kirishima eijirou #class 1a #supportive bakugou katsuki

12 notes · View notes

siempre-pedro · 4 years

Text

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: Everything is blissful when Pedro asks you to be his dance partner for a dance lesson he has to take for a new role, until you catch a contagious illness and have to cancel. Pedro finds a way to still dance with you and confess his feelings.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I’m obsessed with those songs but in another room videos/audio! I wrote this inspired by Paul Anka’s song...but in another room. I recommend listening to it while you read.

Requests are OPEN

A gentle knock of your apartment door interrupted your glamorous dinner one Monday night. You folded the corner of your magazine and took one final bite of your Lucky Charms before getting up to answer it “Coming,” you shout, your mouth sill full of cereal.

Once you open the door, you swallow your food as fast as you can, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of your hot neighbor. You’d known Pedro for years, he had moved in next to you and sent over a plate of baked goods and a note apologizing in advance for any noise. Both of you were smitten since that day. “Did I interrupt you again?” Pedro asks, grimacing at his awful timing.

“Nah I only got to the who wore it best section this time,” you chuckle, leaning on the cold door frame and tugging your knit sweater up on your shoulder. Pedro ran his fingers through his messy brown hair and then cooly put it in his front pocket “What do you need?”

“A favor,” he responds simply, “when was the last time you danced?” You squint your Y/E/C colored eyes and your lips pucker in thought.

“Senior prom. Why?”

“I signed on to do a project, and I have to learn how to waltz,” he explains, a pink tint rising to his tanned skin. You smile softly and cross your arms over your chest, motioning him to continue. “I found a class on Friday in Midtown, will you please be my partner?”

“Why me?” you ask, trying to hide a giddy smile that was threatening to make an appearance. The man of your dreams was inviting you out and all you do was stand there and look like an idiot! He looked so nervous and precious, standing there fidgeting on his spot.

“You know I have two left feet, I trust you not to laugh at me too much,” he laughs. That was fair, he did, hen he invited you to a friends wedding you got to experience that first hand. “Please, Y/N. I need you,” he begs looks at you with pleading eyes.

“Fine, fine, fine,” you agree “Friday.”

He sighs in relief and pulls his hands from his pockets “You are my savior, Y/N. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll see pick you up at 5 and we’ll take the Subway, yeah?” He plans excitedly, almost bouncing. You bit back a girly laugh and did your best to keep your calm composure.

“I’ll see you then.”

Except you wouldn’t. Tuesday and come and gone and when Wednesday came you woke up with the worst headache of your life. Your neck was so stiff it felt like you were tied to a board, and after some back and forth with yourself, you made an appointment and thankfully, they were able to see you right away. Pedro was texting you nonstop for updates and made silly jokes to calm you. Some made you giggle and others made you groan from second-hand embarrassment.

Those jokes didn’t help when your doctor stood in front of you, his clipboard under his arm, and his eyes looking stern down at you. The older looking man takes a deep breath before giving you the diagnosis “Its meningitis,” he tells you bluntly.

You blink a couple of times, cocking your head as far as it could go without it hurting…which wasn’t that far at all “Meningitis?” you repeat confused, you’d never heard of that before.

The doctor leans against the old counter and uses his free hand to press against the back of his neck “You have an infection that’s causing swelling of the membrane covering your brain and spinal cord, ” he begins to explain, and this is where your daydreams came to a rough stop “It’s highly contagious and often deadly, seizures, brain damage, hearing loss.”

Your eyes widened at the amount of emphasis he used in ‘highly’ “Oh,” was all you could say. Fuck now you were afraid you were going to die! You couldn’t tell Pedro you liked him if you were dead. “H-how bad is my case?” you ask meekly, your eyebrows turning upwards in worry.

“Thankfully we caught it early and the infection is only bacterial, I’ll be giving you the best antibiotics I can and you should come out of this with no side effects,” he tells you, taking his clipboard from his arm to start writing down a prescription. Here comes another kicker “You need to be quarantined for at least a week, no face to face interaction with other people.”

“I have a date Friday,” you say without thinking about what you just blurted out. The doctor looks up from his clipboard and gave you a look that said ‘are you serious?’

“Do you want them to get infected?”

“No.”

He laughs “Then stay home and rest. I’ll supply you with a few masks to get home, then no going out. You go to the pharmacy and go home. Got it?”

You smile at him “I do. Thank you, Doc.”

Telling Pedro you couldn’t go dancing with him may have been the hardest thing you’d ever have to do. You imagined it was going to crush him as bad as it did you. You lean back in your seat on the train, passengers saw your blue medical mask and creating a bubble around you, at least you were alone-ish. Sliding your phone out of your pocket you begin to text him ‘I’m on my way back.’

He replies almost instantly ‘How’d it go? Are you ok?’

‘I have meningitis. A brain infection basically.’

‘Jesus Christ. Are you going to live???’

‘lol yeah. I have to be quarantined for at least a week. I’m HIGHLY contagious. I can’t go with you Friday, I’m so sorry Pedro.’

Pedro’s quick responses ceased. You were constantly checking your phone every few seconds to see if he texted back. You watched your screen intensely, no pop-up messages were appearing, and when it did it was just an Instagram notification that gave you false hope. It took the actor 7 minutes to finally respond.

‘Fuck. Please don’t worry Y/N, I just really want you to get better! I’ll go to that bodega down the street and get you a few things so you don’t starve and stuff.’

Fuck this guy for taking care of you, fuck him for being sweet and nice and everything you wanted him to be. Too bad you were breaking both your hearts, you think. No Pedro was fine you assumed, just helping out a friend.

When you got back to your apartment you found two grey plastic grocery bags filled with Gatorade, semi-healthy snacks, and Tylenol you assumed. On the bag was a neon yellow sticky note ‘I hope I got you everything you needed. I’ll see you in a few days : ) – Pedro’ it read. You smiled softly to yourself and picked up the bags, ready for the lonely week ahead.

Thursday you were in the worst pain of your life, it was like that scene if Ferris Beuller’s Day Off when Cameron was in bed telling Ferris that he was dying, unable to move. That was you, 80s music and all as you laid hopelessly in your bed, surrounded by clear bottles of Gatorade and snacks that Pedro provided. Pedro himself was only adding to your pain, his constant texts asking how you were and trying to make you feel somewhat better was backfiring, you still felt terrible about the dance class. In the evening Pedro would knock on your door, leaving your mail in front of the doorstep. Too bad you couldn’t move to get it.

Friday you were able to accomplish getting out of bed and slowly moving around your apartment. You were leaning on your kitchen counter, chicken noodle soup near boil in a silver pot in front of you. You checked the clock on your microwave ‘4:58’ it read in glowing blue letters, Pedro would be leaving at any moment. That is if he was really going of course.

He was, the door to his apartment closed loudly and a light giggle rang through the walls. You stood stiff, that was a female voice. You rushed to grab a medical mask in the living room, tugging on your gray oversized sweater and a good excuse in your mind.

Your door opened in a rush and you stood in the hallway, the speed of everything got Pedro and the woman’s attention. God she was beautiful, tall and bronzed with silky long black hair, if they needed a new Miss Universe it would’ve been her. She was your foil, you were there in sweatpants and your hair greasy hair pulled up into a high bun, a blue medical mask covering your frown but they couldn’t conceal your dark bags. “Y/n,” Pedro speaks cautiously like a man in a relationship getting caught with another woman. The tall skyscraper of a woman scans you up and down disapprovingly and you didn’t miss her taking a step back when you coughed. “This is Katerina. Kat this is Y/n.”

“Hi,” she sighs, and you simply wave at her before crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Katerina, you hated the way he said her name with that accent of his. Your heart was shattered, would rather dance with her. Your mind quickly flashed to him leaning in to kiss her while they danced, their bodies pressed together.

“What are you doing outside?” he asks you with concern.

You bit your quivering lower lip and replied in a faltering tone “I just came to get my mail.”

Pedro’s dark brown eyes look at you sympathetically “Do you need it right now?”

The tears started to form in your eyes, she probably thought you were ridden with disease “N-no.”

“Please go rest, I promise to bring it to you tonight,” he pleads.

“Pedro we need to go, the Uber’s out front,” Katerina interjects.

You didn’t say anything as he offers a guilty smile before walking off with her. Once their figures disappear down the hall you take in a sharp breath, tears falling down your cheeks. Why did you have to get sick? Why did it have to be contagious? Why did he choose her? You were so angry and jealous and it going to the window in your bedroom to watch him help her into the Uber fueled the angry green fire in your soul.

Later that night you sat on your couch brooding, that night’s rerun of Entertainment Tonight providing background noise as you angrily flipped through Vogue. Pedro would be back any moment, and you were just waiting to hear Katerina’s obnoxious giggles. Soon enough Pedro’s front door opened and shut, no exchanges of words or laughter could be heard. Maybe he did come home alone and you were worrying for nothing.

Music started to play from the apartment next to you, the 50s song you recognized from your father's collection and that one all the kids were into these days. Why was he playing it this loud? You could hear Paul Anka’s voice over Kevin Frasiers on the tv, the bass gently thumping the wall behind you.

Your phone started to ring, Pedro’s name and goofy face popped up “Pedro you’re going to have to pay another fine if you keep it this loud,” you say playfully as you answer it.

“How are you feeling?” He asks lowly.

“Better.”

“Good, stand up,” he instructs.

“W-why?”

“Do his for me Y/N, please,” he sighs.

You shrug and oblige, putting your magazine to the side and standing up in the middle of your apartment “Now what?” you inquire.

“Can you hear the music?”

“How can I not… I’m sorry, yes, yes I can,” you laugh.

“Good, now close your eyes and imagine I’m with you…we’re dancing,” he tells you and you do what he says. You smile and start slowly swaying to the song “I really wish you were with me tonight.”

“You didn’t like what’s her name as a partner?”

Pedro chuckles and closes his eyes “No she was fine. I just wish it was you… my first choice.”

“First choice?” you question.

“You’re always my first choice, Y/N.”

‘put your head on my shoulder’ you cock your head to the side and imagine your putting your head in the crook of his neck, the smell of his cologne bringing a sense of comfort. “I didn’t mean to get sick,” you confess.

“I know, I know… I’m not upset at you or anything. I just had bigger plans for this evening,” he admits, a pink tint rising to his cheeks.

“Which are?” you hum.

“I wanted to tell you that I liked you. More than a friend.” Your eyes open and you snap out of the fantasy, your heart ready to burst from your chest.

“Pedro,” you breathed, wishing he could see the blissful smile. “I’ve liked you since you moved in.”

There’s a silence on both ends, the romantic song filling the void but soon he speaks “Once your better you’ll dance with me?” he wonders.

“I promise,” you say, and the fatigue sets in, “I-I’m getting tired, I did too much today”

Pedro hums in contentment “Go to sleep, I’ll bring your mail and slide it under the door. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Pedro,” you whisper. As you hang up the song ends, your eyes look at the wall that divided your apartments and smiled all the way to your bed.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fluff

350 notes · View notes

crimsonbluemoon · 4 years

Text

Working for Love: A TerrorMoo story 16/17

Hello hello! Happy Saturday to everyone reading this. This story’s been a lot of fun to write, and I’m happy to get this final part out. This is the technical ending to the story, but per Grace’s request, I’ll have an extra scene for people looking for a mature epilogue.

But for those who don’t, this is the final one! So please, enjoy.

OH! And also make sure to come to my new Discord’s Podcast tonight at 8pm! ‘The Creativity Corner’ is for writers and authors who want to have others to connect with, or fans that wanna help support their favorite content creators. We’ve got a happy little community right now, so come join us!

Our Podcast tonight will be about Burnout and Artblocks and how to push through them.

If you need the link, here it is. <3

Now enjoy the story!

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Brian couldn’t keep the smile off his face if someone punched him (Tyler had already threatened to once, due to how ‘goofy’ his grin looked all day). Why?

Because he and Brock were together.

Well, sort of.

After comforting Brock during his breakdown, he’d spent a week sleeping at Brock’s place. Cuddling and kissing Brock every morning before life dragged them out of bed had been the best part of his day, and he felt high from the sensations that thrummed through his body each time Brock murmured his name with fondness. Sex hadn’t been talked about yet, which Brian understood. Brock had taken two hours to fully explain the negative effects his ex had on his body image, as well as his mental health. Just hearing how Brock’s previous boyfriend handled the situation was disgusting and left a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d split a pizza with Craig on Brock’s couch the next day, letting Brock catch up on sleep he’d been struggling to claim due to his anxiety. Mini looked rightfully spiteful when speaking about the ex, pointing out that the emotional abuse he’d provided Brock had been going on long before Brock even realized it.

Brian had made sure to cuddle Brock even tighter that night, hoping his warmth could chase away any residual pain left behind.

“You still didn’t ask him to be your boyfriend? You’re literally worse than Jonathan and Evan. I didn’t even think that was possible.” Tyler’s blunt statement made Brian laugh and Evan shrug, arms leaning on the front desk.

“There’s no expiration date on love.”

“You saying you love Jonathan?” Brian asked, forcing himself not to pump his fists when finally getting a hint of a blush on Evan’s face.

“I’m just here for the pizza man, not to get dissected.” And to prove his point, Evan reached forward to snag a piece from the box in front of him. The tradition of the gym was to provide pizza every first monday of the month as an incentive to get fair-weather members in for a work-out. The likelihood of them signing up for a class once there was higher, especially after the guilt of eating four slices of pizza came into play. It was a smart marketing move on Tyler’s part, Brian would give him that.

“Number one, you’re here because I still pay you for some fucking reason.” Tyler smacked the back of Evan’s hand, scowling when Evan only clutched the crust harder and took the pain in order to rip a bite off the piece.

“You can’t separate a man from his true love.”

“Funny, I don’t see Jonathan here.” Brian quipped back, snickering.

“Look who’s talking!” Evan’s childish reply didn’t deserve a response, so Brian ignored it by stuffing his own piece of pizza into his mouth.

“Number two,” Tyler continued, glaring at both guilty parties. “Stop eating the customer’s food.”

“It’s closing time; the only one whose gonna come in now is Brock,” Brian said, glancing to the clock. It was close to 9:30, meaning they only had a half hour before the place officially shut down. A quick sweep of the gym saw two, maybe three, people inside.

“And it’s so good.” Evan said, or that was what Brian thought he said, since pizza was muffling his words.

“Number three; you both are hopeless losers if you can’t get the balls to ask out the men you’re in love with. I barely even tolerate Mini, but I was smart enough to make it official.” The last piece of information made Brian choke on his slice. Tyler and Craig were dating? Since when?! What alternate reality was he living in? And were they fucking, because Tyler still was just as grouchy as he’d been during his dry spell. Brian was going to have words with Craig. “And for the last fucking time, Brian, put your hat on.”

“Can’t,” he coughed out after swallowing the ball of dough lodged in his throat. “Gotta go get the weights ready for Brocky, bye!”

“I’m going to fire you!” Tyler’s threat barely left a scratch on Brian as he tuned him out, humming when jogging through the gym to get to the weight rack. He’d set up time for Brock to work with him on free weights, which really was just a ploy to watch Brock’s bicep flex up close. All of Brock was handsome, but there was something about the transformation of his arm that really made Brian’s stomach heat with arousal. He wasn’t planning on getting anything out of it (other than a nice little image to think of in the shower), but Brian had already accepted that Brock could read a newspaper and he would somehow find it sexy. At least during this particular activity, he’d have a reason to ‘fix his form’.

“Hey.” Brian paused in moving one of the bars to the side when he heard a new voice call out to him, glancing over his shoulder at the newcomer. The man wasn’t out of shape, though the lack of definement on his muscles proved the gym wasn’t the first place he thought of going after work. It may have explained why he was calling out to Brian; he probably needed help with something he hadn’t learned to use yet.

“What can I help you with?” Brian asked, caught off guard by the once over he got. Sure, this wouldn’t be the first time someone had checked him out, but most did it from the corner of their eyes or behind machinery. The guy was bold, Brian would give him that.

“I’m new to this gym. Was wondering how to sign up for training lessons.”

“Most of our sessions are between the hours of 9am and 5pm; we rarely do one this close to closing. You can talk to Evan or Tyler at the front desk and see what trainer fits your timeframe,” Brian answered, giving a polite smile that stayed rigid with professionalism. Flirting was nice when he wasn’t dating someone, but Brian knew how to turn off his charm when he needed to. Here, seeing the obvious interest in Brian, he made sure to keep an appropriate distance from him when pointing out the front desk. “They’ll tell you all of our availability up there.”

“Are you free now?” Persistence did not look good on this man, and Brian had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. From the corner of his gaze, he caught a familiar face, and his smile was much easier to throw out when seeing Brock giving him a wave.

“Actually, I’m not. My boyfriend’s coming over to work out with me.” He’d said the title hundreds of times in his head, but it was the first that he’d let slip from his lips. And damn, did it feel good. He added a nod behind the man, who huffed and turned to inspect who Brian was talking about. Brian didn’t get to see the man’s reaction, because the joy that drained from Brock’s smile was far more important. Brock had never turned pale so fast in Brian’s presence, his wide eyes and quickened breathing both signs that something had gone terribly wrong. And fuck if people were watching (really it was just this one guy in the gym now), Brian needed to soothe him. “Brock? Sweetheart, you okay?”

“That’s who you’re dating?” The unnecessary bite to the man’s tone had Brian snapping his head back, his glare already reved up.

“That a problem?”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend.” A sentence had never made Brian’s stomach drop out and boil with rage at the same time.

He was going to give Tyler a reason to fire him, after all.

“You fucking asshole.” Brian’s hands grabbed the man’s shirt before slammed him into the mirror, fists shaking from how hard he was pressing into the other’s chest. “You fucking waste of life.”

“Brian!” Brock’s cry of his name was heard, but for once, he didn’t feel soothed by it. Instead, the hatred and anger blistered in his skin, his teeth clenched together between scalding words of disgust.

“You vile dick. You, you, think you have any right to say shit to Brock? That you deserve anyone close to his calibre? Are you fucking crazy?” His arms slammed the man back again when he tried to respond, not wanting to hear his response. “I should knock every one of your stupid teeth out-”

“Please stop!” Brock’s chest was warm when he grabbed Brian from behind, his forehead pressed to the back of Brian’s neck. The arms around Brian were strong, but shaking, and it was the fact that Brock was trembling that made Brian finally let go of the other’s shirt. Brock pulled him back a couple feet before another hand grabbed him, turning him to face Evan and Tyler.

“Yo, calm down dude,” Evan tried to be calm about the outburst, but Tyler’s anger palpable in the air.

“What the fuck was that? You can’t attack random ass people in the gym!”

“He’s not random!” Brian snarled back, sending a scathing glare toward the man now staring at Brock. Brock, who was now pressed to his side, hadn’t noticed the look, too busy grabbing Brian’s hands to check his knuckles for bruises. But Brian had, and he wanted to rip the man’s eyeballs out of his head for even thinking he had the right. “That’s Brock’s ex.”

“Oh shit.” Evan’s voice was quiet, but it seemed to echo from how silent the gym had become. Brock flinched next to him, but stayed silent on the topic, shaky fingers rubbing circles into Brian’s knuckles.

“Jesus fuck, what is my life.” Tyler’s groan was followed by his hand sliding down his face, but Brian picked up on some of his ire washing away. He wished his anger had lowered at all, but seeing Brock’s ex open his mouth made fury rise through him again.

“Brock, you… you lost some weight.” It was insulting to hear Brock’s accomplishment said with such a surprised tone. Brian’s spine was ready to snap with how stiff it was, but he held himself still when Brock’s hand slipped to his lower back and rubbed along the vertebrae.

“I’ve been working on being healthier,” Brock answered quietly, and Brian hated how hard it looked for Brock to make eye contact with the man who’d crushed him months ago. “It’s not really about the weight; just trying to be happy.”

“That’s what I meant, that’s what I’ve always been telling you-”

“No.” In an uncharacteristic rudeness that had Brian’s pride swelling, Brock steadied his feet and took a slow breath before continuing. “No, that’s not what you did. You tore me down and picked out everything you felt was wrong about me. It wasn’t about me being happy, it was about being good enough for you to date. You supported change; you just… you didn’t support me.”

“Well, I-”

“But now,” Brock’s hand paused in its movement against Brian’s back, and he didn’t need any incentive to lean down and kiss Brock’s temple for reassurance. He felt Brock lean into the connection for a moment, as if trying to absorb Brian’s confidence in him. “I’m with someone who will.”

“He’s only with you because you lost weight. If anything, I helped you. You’re never going to get better than you are now, which you only got to because I left you.”

“Brock’s been the same fucking person since day one, you prick. Do you really think losing weight made him different somehow? How blind can you be? I swear to God- say something stupid like that again-” Brian was ready to launch across the floor to tackle the man to the ground, but in a blink of an eye, the man was yanked out of sight. Surprised, Brian glanced over to see that Tyler had the guy by the scruff of the neck. Using his height and strength, he manhandled the ex to the front of the gym, his scowl fierce.

“Okay, I’m done with this. I have a no douchebag policy in my gym, and you’re well past that line. You’re done.”

“Excuse me? I have a membership-”

“I’ll mail you a fucking refund.” Evan let out a cheer when Tyler tossed the man out of the gym, the doors slamming shut behind him. Brian wanted to feel anything but anger, but his blood was boiling.

“Fuck!” Frustrated at himself for not chasing the man down, Brian pulled away from Brock, shoulders stiff when storming into the locker room. He barely made it past the door before he shouted again, hands slamming into the row of steel lockers lining the wall. His palms stung from the intense contact, but he didn’t care, needing to feel something other than pure rage. Why had that guy thought he had any right to make Brock feel worthless? All the emotional scars, the times Brock had lost sleep, the tears poured over that beautiful face were because of a piece of garbage like that? Another heavy roll of emotion washed over Brian, who clenched his hands and pounded against the lockers again. He leaned his forearms onto the cool metal, head no longer supported by his neck when he dropped it against the solid surface. Closing his eyes, Brian could feel his trembles trickling down his back, coasting along the skin light enough to create goosebumps in their path.

“Brian.” The voice was cautious and soft, and Brian wanted to curl into it and never come out. He didn’t move from his tense position against the locker, hearing Brock move closer. “Tyler said to tell you he really did revoke his membership. Just deleted him from the database, too.”

“Probably so I wouldn’t look up his address and beat the fock outta him.” And deep down, he knew Tyler’s caution was right on the money.

“You wouldn’t really-”

“I would.” He took his time lifting his head to make sure that Brock could take in the serious expression on his face. “I would do it without a second thought.”

“You shouldn’t do that.” Brock didn’t flinch away from the violence, but his concerned look was enough to settle some of the anger in Brian’s stomach.

“After everything that focker did to you, I’d be more than happy to rearrange his face. Give me one reason I shouldn’t.”

“Because that wouldn’t make me happy.” Brian felt his lungs release the final wisps of tension at Brock’s soft touch, palms sliding over his cheeks to cradle his face in his hands. “He’s a coward who would press charges, and then I’d be the one punished again. It’d just hurt me in the end.”

“Don’t want that,” Brian admitted without a fight. His shoulders slumped, leaning his weight onto the lockers. How did Brock ease his soul like this? Seconds ago, he’d been ready to tear through every house in the town in order to find the bastard who’d hurt the nicest man Brian had ever met. Now, nuzzling his nose against the soothing touch, he just wanted to hold Brock. But his body still shook with anger, and he didn’t trust himself to stay soft yet. Not the way Brock deserved. So he kept his forearms still, letting Brock take the lead in bringing their mouths together for a kiss that only lingered for a second. When Brock continued, the words caressed his lips like a whisper for nobody else to hear.

“Neither do I. So we need to put this behind us.”

“But he-”

“All that matters is that I’m here with you right now, not chasing after him to blow up his ego and make excuses for why other guys are stronger than him.” Brian could tell from the wistful way Brock’s tone shook that he’d been in those shoes far too many times before. “He can’t hurt me anymore. Maybe a year ago, seeing him would have ruined my confidence for days. But you helped me find my self-worth. I love myself too much to let him break me down again. And giving him any more of our time just feels wrong. So we’re not going to go after him; let his last memory of me be standing tall by your side without him. That’ll be worse than any bruise you’d give him, because it won’t ever fade. He’ll know I’m...”

Brock’s confidence faltered, and Brian’s focus zeroed in on the quiver of the thumb that brushed over his cheek again. Brock was trying to be so strong, to be the support that Brian needed after he lost his cool over the ex. He was so amazing, and it shook Brian how often the beauty of Brock’s personality was hidden to make others feel better. Like Brian, right in this moment. And playing the bull-headed gym idiot others tended to see him as, he’d forgotten something important.

“He’ll know you’re mine, sweetheart.” Brock’s face dusted with red was always Brian’s favorite image, and he felt a genuine grin catch the side of his lips at the sight. Still, he didn’t feel clear enough with his words. There was no way he was going to let Brock walk out of the locker room without knowing exactly what Brian wanted. Feeling in control of himself, Brian dropped one arm from the locker, his fingers roaming over the curve of Brock’s hip to pull him closer. Their chests met as Brian turned to face him, crowding him between his body and the lockers. “Tonight, he’s gonna go to sleep with the knowledge that I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in this town, because you’re my boyfriend.”

“Really?” The wide eyes and parted lips only lasted until Brian nodded. Then, like the first hint of sunlight over the horizon, Brock’s face bloomed with awe. His cheeks were stilly rosy, rounded and perfect to cradle the cute nose between them. His lips couldn’t hide his teeth from how brightly he smiled, eyes aglow with a warmth that would make fire jealous. Hands that others could find too clammy or pudgy were soft silk holding Brian’s cheek tightly, their foreheads meeting in the middle without words. Brian couldn’t stop himself from kissing Brock once, twice, three times more, his own relief growing with each second Brock didn’t deny the claim. And when he needed to pull away (because lungs didn’t care about romance), he made sure to use the space to answer Brock’s silly question.

“I’ve been head over heels for you since I saw you singing on the treadmill.”

“Oh my God, Brian. You're the worst.” But the pure joy that came out of Brock’s watery laughter proved he didn’t mean it at all. Brian wanted to feel that giggle on his mouth, but before he could lean in again, a crackle shot through the air.

“Attention, love birds! Tyler and I would like to go home sometime before Christmas, so please stop fucking in the locker room. And clean any sex messes you make!” Mini’s loud cackle after the comment could be heard outside of the loudspeaker, and Brian laughed at the absurdity of their lives. Brock didn’t seem to find the humor in it, groaning before dropping his head onto Brian’s shoulder.

“I take it back; Craig’s the worst.” Despite rubbing Brock’s back to show sympathy, Brian couldn’t wipe the grin off his face if he tried.

Because he and Brock were together.

No doubt about it.

And look at that; happy ending! I love these two, theyre so fun to write. <3 So I hope you’ve enjoyed this! Don’t forget about our Podcast tonight, come join and hang out, and as always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think! <3

#Terrormoo #The Gaming Terroriser #Moo Snuckle #Soft boys #<3 #Crimson drabblez

96 notes · View notes

mickmarstookmyheart · 4 years

Text

Secret of a Guitar(ist) pt 3

Mick Mars X Reader, (High School!Mötley)

Part 1 and Part 2 is right here if you want to read it!

Summary: Losing a friend, party and trouble.

The weekend ended pretty quickly, you mostly spent it with reading, listening to music, and leaning for your upcoming tests. When you woke up Monday morning you looked out of the window to see it was a bleak day and the raindrops held races on your window. For others, it was a bad, colorless day, while you preferred this weather over those shiny and dazzling summer days. The sound and the touch of the rain gave you the strength you needed that day.

On your way to the school, you promised that nothing can piss you off, neither the band nor your nosy friends. You just enjoyed the rainy weather and filled your lungs with the scent of the rain touching the soil. Even, during lessons, you were just staring out of the window. Whenever Emma, Helen, or Simon asked anything you tried your best to stay kind and friendly. You apologized to them for being this introvert and not telling them your problems. Though, you still didn't tell them about Mick. You just warned them that if you tell them about it, they also have to keep this as a secret and you only wanted to protect them from it. They kinda understood it luckily.

"(Y/N)." Simon called when he saw you in your closet. You were admiring your Queen poster on the inside.

"What's up?" You asked looking up at him and closing your closet. You adjusted your bag and headed towards class, Simon following you next to you.

"Are you free on Friday?" He questioned shyly while he shoves his hands in his pockets. The question hit you hard, you didn't expect this. Simon one of your best friends, the only guy whom you loved, but only as a friend. You recalled your talk with Mick. "Does he know about that?"

"Um, well, I-I...I'm not quite sure." You didn't want to make him sad nor disappointed, though you still didn't intend to do something you weren't fond of. "I still had this math exam coming up and I should also carry on practicing on my guitar."

"I see. Then see you later, (Y/N)." He fastened his pace up and left you there. He was a nice guy but he didn't deserve someone who doesn't like him back in the way he wanted. When you arrived in class, earlier this time, you settled down next to Helen. Emma still wasn't there.

"Hey, girl." Helen greeted and turned to you. "How are you?"

"Well, I feel Simon hates me. I, I just lied to him and it was so obvious. I'm a monster." You put your hoodie on and laid your forehead on the desk. Later, you felt a hand rubbing your back.

"You are not a monster so stop telling that. And I think you are doing the right thing. If you started to date, you both be unhappy. He just hasn't realized yet."

"Who hasn't realized what?" Emma arrived and sat down. She was soaking wet from the rain and looked pretty exhausted.

"What happened to you?" You asked.

"Rain. That's what happened. But nevermind. So what is your issue?" She took off her coat and do her hair in a bun.

"Nothing important."

"(Y/N)!" Luckily, the bell rang saving you from telling her your problem. You gave her a victorious look and opened your book, already full ears.

∆

"Okay, you are improving. That was pretty badass." Mick stated when you finished one of the riffs he had already shown you. Your hand almost recovered, although it still hurt when you played the guitar. You tried to hide the pain but during the complex ones, you can't help but flinch.

"Really? Cause I don't think so." You chuckled and put down the guitar, rubbing your wrist.

"Are you okay? Or should we rest?" He asked softly.

"Nah, it's okay." You smiled. "Let's try again."

"What if we try something else?" He asked while standing up and giving his guitar. A line appeared between your brows but and stared at him. "Hey, it's already tuned." He shrugged. "So play this one, but now this time faster." You gulped when he put the paper in front of you. He must've seen your face cause he stepped closer. "I will help." He pulled the chair behind you and placed his hands upon yours from behind. You could barely breathe from his touch. You could feel his breath on your neck and shoulders and his humming didn't help at all doing this riffs. "See? It's that easy." Mick said when you finished.

"You helped me a lot." You stuttered while putting a lock of hair behind your ears. "But it was better."

"You did great. Have a little faith." He approached his desk where all his stuff laid. He stood with his back to you so you could observe him a bit. His long black hair reached almost his waist, and then you saw his thighs and....what the actual fuck? You shook your head quickly and tried to focus on everything else than Mick's thighs. Gosh. "Is everything alright? You looked as if you saw a ghost or something."

"Yeah, everything is cool." You gathered your stuff and headed towards the door. "Thank you for everything. See ya in a week."

"Are you going already? Well, I won't make you stay against your will so go if you want." He escorted to the door and opened it for you since your hands were full. "What are you doing this Friday?" He asked making you drop all of your books on the floor. You squatted down and picked all of them while Mick also helped you. The pain was strong to bend down but he didn't bother. He didn't care.

"Sorry, the gravity is stronger today than usual." You trembled. You held your books with your shaking hand. "So, to answer your question, I think I will stay at home. Maybe to meet my friends. Nothing too extreme."

"But you aren't going to that party, right?" He asked with a serious face. Mick felt something whenever you were nearby. He felt he must protect you at all costs. He didn't why just that he must.

"I already told my friends that I'm not going. For reasons. At first, they didn't accept it well but they gave in later."

"Good to hear. And sorry for making you keep secrets from your friends. It's not fair."

"It's totally understandable, Mick. And I'm sure they have several secrets they keep from me." You chuckled thinking of how many things there are you didn't know about.

"Thank you for being this tolerable. And for being this nice to me. I can't recall any person who traits me as a person and not a rocker creepy guy." He stepped closer to you. You felt your face burn along with your ears. Mick placed his hand on your shoulders and pulled you even closer. You noticed him licking the inside of his lips which made your legs shake. Until a voice ruined this moment.

"(Y/N)?" Simon was in shock. At first, he didn't want to believe his eyes, it couldn't be you. Mick cleared his throat and drifted away.

"I think I should go. See you later, (Y/N)." Then he went back to the classroom and locked the door after himself. You just stood there and felt like shit. Tears shone in Simon's eyes. You betrayed him.

"I thought you were better than that. Seriously, (Y/N)? I thought you hated those guys!" He grunted. Mick heard every word Simon and you said and he felt terrible. He knew something was between the two of you and he ruined it.

"Simon, I-I'm sorry. You know I didn't plan this. I wanted to be honest with you while not making you sad." It was time to tell him everything. "You deserve someone who loves you the way you love me, Simon. And I'm not that someone. I like you Simon, but only as a friend. And I'm sorry for not telling you this earlier."

"Don't continue, (Y/N). I got it. Then I hope you will be happy together." He gave you a sad smile and turned and walked away. Mick wanted to go and comfort you but he thought it was the last thing you wanted. You just lost your friend.

∆

After telling this to Emma and Helen on the phone you discussed having a girl night that day. You somehow struggled through school that day, you didn't meet Simon, neither Mick. And maybe this way was the best.

You only told them about Simon. You didn't mention Mick but it was only a matter of time to let them know this. Simon will bring it up someday.

"When I arrive home I will go to bed and I won't even shower. I don't have the energy to do that." You sighed and laid down on the backseat of the car while Emma drove and Helen sat on the passenger seat. You knew to close your eyes were dangerous because you could easily fall asleep. But you didn't think it would be this dangerous.

"(Y/N), wake up. How can you sleep like this?" Emma pushed your shoulders to finally wake you up which she managed to. You groaned and rolled to your other side. "People will think we kidnapped you, come on!" Emma snapped and pulling up by your arm. You slowly opened your eyes and flinched from the loud music.

"Emma, technically we kidnapped her, remember?" Helen whispered so you couldn't hear.

"Where are we exactly? It doesn't look like our neighborhood." Your eyes widened from the recognition. "No, no, no! No fucking way you brought me here! I told you I'm not going!"

"Don't be like this. A little party never killed anybody as they say." Emma laughed.

"No! You kidnapped me. I stay in the car while you are in there." You closed the door and stared in front of yourself with crossed arms. You couldn't believe they did this to you. Your friends. You thought they finally understood it, but they always dragged you to things you don't like. You were disappointed. You heard the door opening on the other side and Helen settled down next to you. She took your hand into her and squeezed it.

"Look, (Y/N). I'm sorry what we did and for how we did it. I still don't know why you don't want to be here but it will do good, believe me. We won't stay too long. I'm sure there is free food, drinks and what is most important, rock music. Can you hear that? We are the championship, my friend." She sang along with Freddie, pulling you into a sideways hug. You loved this song from the bottom of your heart and it always made you cry a bit.

"Alright. One hour! And I won't dance." You held up your finger earning a big smile from Helen.

"Okay." You got out of the car, sent a death glare at Emma cause you were sure it was her idea, and headed towards the house. The house was quite decent, at least yet. You could recognize many familiar faces from school lying on the ground. They were drinking or doing drugs. When you stepped in the house the party was much more heated than outside. Beer and Jack Daniels bottles covered the ground with many other disgusting things you hoped you would forget. On the wall, there was a white blanket with Mötley Crüe on it. It looked pretty cool. The music was loud though at least it wasn't some disco shit.

"Oh, look, a couch." You cheered and immediately sat down and relaxed on the comfortable furniture. Emma just rolled her eyes when Helen hit her arm gently.

"Come on. At least she is in the house."

"You are right. Let's not be greedy. Come, let's find the hosts." She smirked and went to the kitchen where they saw Nikki sitting on the counter and Tommy with a girl. Vince wasn't there. Neither Mick. "Hey, guys!"

"Hey...you are (Y/N)'s friends, right?" Tommy asked pushing his girl away. Emma just gave him an odd look cause she has already told her name.

"Is she here, too?" Nikki's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, in the living room." Emma gestured towards the mentioned place. Nikki hopped down on the ground and happily walked towards you while Emma and Helen stayed with Tommy. "So, where is Vince?"

"He is in the bathroom." He said taking a sip from his booze.

"I see. And when will he back?" Emma promised to herself that at least she will talk to once, but don't resist if Vince wants more. She wasn't that kind of girl but she was able to do anything to meet Vince personally, even dragging you a party against your will.

"I guess as soon as he finishes with that girl." Tommy shrugged and kept drinking. You took a long breath to calm down cause some of the guests were irritating you. You decided to drink something, at least it will help you comprehend with the others. You walked to the table where all the fresh drinks and snacks were when a guy with long dark hair knocked on your shoulders.

"I beg your pardon?" You snapped. You didn't like it when some random guy touched you liked that.

"Well, I'm Richard." He held his hand but you didn't accept it.

"Good for you." You murmured while looking for a still untouched beer bottle but you couldn't see one. "Ugh, why everyone had to drink up everything?"

"Here, take mine." The guy offered and put it on the table.

"No, thanks. I won't accept any drink from others."

"But it's still unopened. I just wanted to bring it to my friends." You hesitated at first but when you saw nothing missed from the bottle you took it. You found it hard to open so you were sure it was still untouched.

"Okay, thanks, and sorry for being bitchy. I'm (Y/N)." This time you held your hand and he was just staring it.

"Good for you." He said with the same tone.

"Ouch, but I deserved it." You laughed and headed back to the couch.

"You don't want to come and I will introduce my friends. It seems you are alone here." He smiled.

"Oh, I lost my friends a long time ago and I knew the hosts, too, though I haven't seen them yet."

"Then come." He grabbed your wrist and started pull into the core of the crowd.

∆

"So-so did you jump from the roof?" You giggled uncontrollably. You were already drunk as hell and didn't know why. You felt dizzy and your head was spinning. You tried to recall the last 20 minutes but you only remember that one beer. Maybe you weren't a sponge-like your friends.

"Yeah. But luckily I fell in the pool so it didn't hurt." One of Richard's friends told you this stupid story, but it made you laugh either way. You would be able to laugh at anything at that point. "(Y/N), you don't want to go out a bit? You look like someone who needs some fresh air."

"I think you are right." You tried to stand up but fell back at the couch. Richard and his friend shared an evil which you couldn't see.

"Come here. We will help." They helped you by your hand and you were clenching on their shoulders. Your legs were shaking and your head was pounding and it felt like if it weighed like a ton. "What about if we go to our place. It's much more fun there." He whispered in your ear. You just mumbled under your nose but proper words didn't come out of your mouth. You didn't even process what he has just said. You and the two guys were struggling in the pavement now when Mick walked past next to you. At first, he didn't recognize you but then he turned and stepped in front of you.

"What do you think you are doing?" Mick inquired with crossed arms.

"Do you know her? And anyway, none of your business." Richard said.

"I do know her and you better let her go." Richard glanced at his friend and nodded. They immediately let your hands go and ran away, letting you fell on the ground face forward. Luckily, Mick could stop your face touching the ground. "(Y/N) are you alright?" He touched your face gently. You just giggled making Mick groan. "Tommy!"

Tommy was outside talking to some blondie chick but rushed to Mick at the moment he called him.

"Omg, what happened?" He asked while picking you up in his arms in bride style. The girl he was talking to arrived, too, and walked beside Mick.

"Some guy must've drugged her. They almost took her." Mick said growling. He was furious as hell. For you not taking his advice, for his bandmates not looking after you and for himself nor being there for you.

"Heather, I will be back, I will just bring (Y/N) upstairs," Tommy said when he was balancing you on the stairs.

"I will help."

When Tommy laid you on Mick's bed Heather brought some wet clothes and placed them on your forehead. It was fucking cold but it felt good. Mick told them to go back to the party he will be able to handle things now. He sat closer to you and took off the clothing from your forehead making you murmur.

"Mick?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Oh no. I shouldn't be here cause said so. I'm not even here." You hid under the blanket making a big eye roll from Mick. You were completely out of your mind and weren't yourself.

"You can come up. I already saw you, you know. What are you doing here? I told you not to come!" He snapped but you just only giggled.

"Tommy was right. You really look like Cousin Itt from Addams family." You laughed.

"Okay, go to sleep, we will talk tomorrow. When you are sane." He said and stood up from the chair. Before he closed the door his lips curved into a smile.

∆

The next morning or more like noon you woke up. You rolled on your side but you didn't feel your plushies neither felt your comfy bed. You opened your eyes and noticed that the ceiling was also different. You quickly sat up and looked around. The blood froze in your veins when you saw the still sleeping Mick next to you. You glanced under the blanket where you noticed that you weren't wearing your jeans. What the hell happened last night? You cautiously got out of bed but not enough.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"Morning. Did we...are we. We didn't, right?" You mumbled running your hand in your hair.

"What? No. I was just sleepy and didn't want to lay on the ground in my own room." You relieved and sat on the edge of the bed. "Your jeans are downstairs, drying. It smelled like beer so Heather took it down from you last night."

"Heather?"

"Tommy's girlfriend or what. She was a cool girl. I hope Tommy won't fuck things up." He placed his hand under his head watching you as you tried to find something to cover you while you go downstairs.

"Here, take this one. Tommy left it here. Don't worry, it's clean." He threw you black leather pants and you caught it pretty smoothly, considering your hungover. "After you are ready, we will go and eat something. I'm starving."

∆

The house was a mess. Food, empty bottles, and people laid on the ground. Knives and forks in the wall and the whole place stinkted. The door was even open. The yard wasn't better, toilet rolls on the tree and the trash in the whole.

"Quite a party."

Mick searched for his car key and helped you got in the car. When you set off Mick turned on the radio but a low volume so it wasn't disturbing. It was an overcast day so it was quite heartwarming, sitting in the car with Mick and listening to music. That was exactly what you needed.

The car parked in front of a lovely restaurant. Mick opened the door for you and placed his hand on your back. A lady escorted you to a table for two and handed out the menus.

"Can I ask what happened last night?" You inquired when you finished selecting your order. Mick didn't say a word just kept reading the menu. You sighed and supported your head with your hand. The rain started pouring again making you smile.

"Do you like it?"

"Hmmm?"

"The rain. Do you like it?"

"Yes. It helps me forget every problem I have. It's just relaxing."

The waitress brought your food and placed it in front of you and went to another table. You hummed when you took a sip from your coffee. You could feel the caffeine run through your veins, filling your body with energy. Mick didn't say a word through the meal. You tried to maintain a conversation but he just stared at you and you would shut up instead. When you finished you waited for him to finally say something. After he asked for the bill and you left the facility he walked past his car so you followed him. You arrived at the ocean. The waves were so loud from the weather you could barely hear your own thoughts.

"Mick! Where are we going?" You shouted. He just gestured with his hand to keep following him. Your shoes were already full of sand and it was wet.

"Sorry, I wanted to be alone and in quiet. And I hope this doesn't look creepy or anything." Mick said softly after you were under a so-called mini cave at the beach. It was opened but you have a roof over you so the rain wasn't bothering. "So you might wondering what is inside my head and the things happened last night." You gave him a 'You don't say' look earning a chuckle from him. "Well, I'm quite angry with you."

"Sorry for interrupting you, but you didn't know a thing about how I got to that party. I was literally kidnapped by my own fucking friends!! I didn't have anything to do with that." The look on Mick's face was priceless. Anger, shock, and disappointment along with relief.

"Well, then I'm not angry at you. One person crossed out."

"Thank you, I guess."

"To be honest, nothing surprising happened just the fact that you were drugged. I didn't want you to not to come cause of my bandmates. Cause of their acquiescence. Drug dealers and so many more kind people."

"I was drugged? I thought it was just a drink."

"You told me that you only drank one beer. I suppose you can bear alcohol better than that. No one gets this drunk after one bottle. And when I saw with those guys...I was scared. I was scared to the loose only thing that lightens up my mood at school even if we don't talk there. I still see you there and I can't wait for the next lessons. I know it sounds weird but I think I like you, (Y/N)." Your heart skipped the beat. No one ever in your life has said something like this. You thought you didn't deserve it.

"Well..." You were playing with the end of the sleeve of your jacket. "I should thank you then. For protecting me and I'm sorry that I ruined your evening. I tried to stay sane and smart but they tricked me. And I also love the lessons, the way you listen to me and help in almost everything. At school, it may seem that I'm fed up with you and the boys but on the contrary. You always cheer me up and you are so kind to me."

"Because you deserve it." He leaned closer to you. It was like back after the lesson. This time no one could ruin this moment. Mick brushed his finger on your cheek then your lips. Your face was crimson red and your breath was shaking. Mick licked his lips and captured your lip between his. You placed your hands on his shoulders and pulled him closer. His body was warm and welcoming. When he drifted away he touched your forehead with his. You were both panting from the kiss still with closed eyes. You couldn't imagine somebody kissing you ever. But then Mick happened and your world turned completely upside down.

"One last question. What happened to the guests?" You asked smirking.

"Oh, the police came in and everyone ran away or was arrested. Don't worry, your friends got away."

"Lucky bastards." You both burst into laughing in the cave. Watching the ocean and the waves alone with someone who cherished you and loved you like no one else.

∆

Tags: @leatherandheels @karrotkate @littlemisscare-all ❤️❤️

I hoped you liked this story!!! Thanks for reading it. Though I was thinking on a next chapter but I'm not quite sure.

#motley crue #glam rock #nikki sixx #rocknroll #mick mars #tommy lee #vince neil #80srock #80s music #mick mars x reader #mick mars imagine #motley crue x reader #motley crue imagine

17 notes · View notes

newstfionline · 3 years

Text

Tuesday, December 15, 2020

Electoral College makes it official: Biden won (AP) The Electoral College formally chose Joe Biden on Monday as the nation’s next president, giving him a solid electoral majority of 306 votes and confirming his victory in last month’s election. The state-by-state voting took on added importance this year because of President Donald Trump’s refusal to concede he had lost. Heightened security was in place in some states as electors met on the day established by federal law. Electors cast paper ballots in gatherings with masks, social distancing and other virus precautions the order of the day. The results will be sent to Washington and tallied in a Jan. 6 joint session of Congress over which Vice President Mike Pence will preside. For all Trump’s unsupported claims of fraud, there was little suspense and no change as all the electoral votes allocated to Biden and the president in last month’s popular vote went officially to each man. Biden renewed his campaign promise to be a president for all Americans, whether they voted for him or not, and said the country has hard work ahead on the virus and economy.

The Electoral College, an unlovable compromise (AP) For a compromise that has lasted more than 200 years, the Electoral College doesn’t get a lot of love. According to the National Archives, more Constitutional amendments have been proposed to alter or abolish the Electoral College than on any other subject—more than 700 proposals in the nation’s history. It was James Madison who drew up the system, a compromise between those who wanted the states to select the president and those who wanted direct election by qualified voters. Each state was to select a number of electors equal to its representation in Congress (senators and representatives). Under the Constitution, the president must be elected with a majority of electors. If no one wins a majority, the House of Representatives decides. The national popular vote plays no part; five men have been elected president though their opponent won more votes, most recently Donald Trump in 2016. The electors meet and vote in their states on the first Monday after the second Wednesday in December.

Hospitals Prepare for First Shots as Virus Vaccine Shipments Blanket U.S. (NYT) Trucks and cargo planes packed with the first of nearly three million doses of coronavirus vaccine fanned out across the country on Sunday as hospitals rushed to set up injection sites and their anxious workers tracked each shipment hour by hour. The distribution of the first federally approved vaccine marked the start of the most ambitious vaccination campaign in American history, a critical, complicated feat that one top federal official compared to the Allied landings at Normandy during World War II. Now, the United States is trying to turn the tide of battle against a virus whose spread has killed nearly 300,000 people, ravaged the economy and upended millions of lives. The first doses will go to health care workers, who could start receiving shots by Monday. Residents of nursing homes, who have suffered a disproportionate share of Covid-19 deaths, are also being prioritized and are expected to begin getting vaccinations next week.

Lessons (Pew Research Center) A large majority of U.S. adults (86%) say there is some kind of lesson or set of lessons for mankind to learn from the coronavirus outbreak, and about a third (35%) say these lessons were sent by God. In open-ended survey responses collected by the Center in the summer, Americans pointed to practical lessons, such as wearing a mask; personal lessons, such as remembering the importance of spending time with family and loved ones; and societal lessons, such as the need for universal health care. Other responses were political in nature, including criticisms of both major parties and concerns about the politicization of the pandemic. Among those who say there is a lesson about religion within the pandemic, some respondents point to the role God has in humans’ lives. For instance, a 53-year-old woman writes that “whether you believe it or not, God is in control and we must have God at the center of our lives. He is our savior.” Many respondents mention lessons about changes people should make in their personal lives and relationships with others. One 46-year-old woman says people need to “think about what is REALLY important and how your time is REALLY spent … hopefully this is an opportunity for people to rethink their priorities.” Similarly, a man in his 40s writes, “Life moves too quickly and people don’t slow down long enough to see their lives pass by. The virus has shown us that life doesn’t need to fly by so quickly. We can enjoy the moment more.” Many respondents also frame the coronavirus as a simple reminder to treat others well. A 54-year-old woman says that “we should always be kind to one another regardless of race, religion, or political belief. The virus does not discriminate, and neither should we.”

Russian Hackers Broke Into Federal Agencies, U.S. Officials Suspect (NYT) The Trump administration acknowledged on Sunday that hackers acting on behalf of a foreign government—almost certainly a Russian intelligence agency, according to federal and private experts—broke into a range of key government networks, including in the Treasury and Commerce Departments, and had free access to their email systems. Officials said a hunt was on to determine if other parts of the government had been affected by what looked to be one of the most sophisticated, and perhaps among the largest, attacks on federal systems in the past five years. The motive for the attack remains elusive, two people familiar with the matter said. One government official said it was too soon to tell how damaging the attacks were and how much material was lost, but according to several corporate officials, the attacks had been underway as early as this spring, meaning they continued undetected through months of the pandemic and the election season.

Blocked to fly, free to sue (CNN) In an 8-0 decision, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that three Muslim men who wanted to sue FBI officials for financial damages were clear to proceed, finding that the Religious Freedom Restoration Act allowed suits against individual agents. It’s a really interesting case: in 2013, Muhammad Tanzir, Jameel Algibhah and Naveed Shinwari say the FBI attempted to recruit them to become informants, and when they declined the offer they allege the agents retaliated by putting them on no-fly lists, preventing them from getting on any plane that arrives, departs, or passes through the U.S. This, they argue, carried significant financial damages, and they would like to sue to get them. The Justice Department wanted the case thrown out, though the court unanimously held the case could proceed.

Venezuela’s Isolation Increases After Panama Suspends Flights (Bloomberg) Panama has suspended flights from Venezuela, cutting off one of the few remaining air corridors out of the country. Panama’s aviation authority said Sunday that it took the measure after Venezuela restricted access to a Panamanian airline while demanding increased slots in Panama for Venezuelan airlines. The suspension will apply from Sunday until Panama receives “equal and fair treatment,” the authority said in a statement. More than a dozen foreign airlines have stopped servicing Venezuela since 2014, including Delta Air Lines Inc., Deutsche Lufthansa AG and Avianca Holdings SA.

Bolsonaro bump (Foreign Policy) Even as a local newspaper blames his “homicidal negligence” in the face of the coronavirus pandemic, Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro is seeing record approval ratings. A recent poll by Brazilian firm Datafolha found that 37 percent of Brazilians see his government as great or good, while the number viewing it as bad or terrible reduced 2 points to 32 percent. Bolsonaro’s relatively solid approval is likely due to his support for a cash benefit for low-income residents hit by the pandemic, which Bolsonaro recently extended until the end of the year.

Daytime darkness: Total solar eclipse wows in Latin America (AP) Thousands of people gathered in the Chilean region of La Araucanía on Monday to witness a solar eclipse, rejoicing in the rare experience even though visibility was limited because of cloudy skies. Skies were clear in northern Patagonia in Argentina, where people also watched the moon briefly block out the sun and plunge daytime into darkness. Many people wore masks to curb the spread of COVID-19, though they crowded together in some places in Pucón and in other areas of La Araucanía, 700 kilometers (430 miles) south of Santiago, the Chilean capital. Thousands jumped and shouted happily in the drizzle when the sun was completely covered by the moon and then silence descended for a few moments. People again screamed and whooped excitedly when the sun appeared again. During the brief period of darkness, only the lights of cell phones were visible. The next total solar eclipse in Chile is expected to occur in 28 years. Another is expected to be visible in Antarctica by the end of 2021.

Ministers warn supermarkets to stockpile food amid no‑deal Brexit fears (Times of London) Supermarkets are this weekend stockpiling food and other goods after being told by ministers that a no-deal Brexit is on the cards. Food producers have warned there will be shortages of vegetables for three months and emergency planners predict that no-deal would spark panic-buying on a scale that could dwarf the coronavirus crisis. In a sign of what might be to come, lorries were backed up for three miles on the A20 outside Dover yesterday, after Calais suffered 10-mile tailbacks on Friday. Hauliers blamed the jams in Kent on “stock-building”.

Protesting Indian farmers call for 2nd strike in a week (AP) Tens of thousands of protesting Indian farmers called for a national farmers’ strike on Monday, the second in a week, to press for the quashing of three new laws on agricultural reform that they say will drive down crop prices and devastate their earnings. The farmers are camping along at least five major highways on the outskirts of New Delhi and have said they won’t leave until the government rolls back what they call the “black laws.” They have blockaded highways leading to the capital for three weeks, and several rounds of talks with the government have failed to produce any breakthroughs. Protest leaders have rejected the government’s offer to amend some contentious provisions of the new farm laws, which deregulate crop pricing, and have stuck to their demand for total repeal.

China’s Combative Nationalists See a World Turning Their Way (NYT) In one Beijing artist’s recent depiction of the world in 2098, China is a high-tech superpower and the United States is humbled. Americans have embraced communism and Manhattan, draped with the hammer-and-sickle flags of the “People’s Union of America,” has become a quaint tourist precinct. This triumphant vision has resonated among Chinese. China’s Communist Party, under its leader, Xi Jinping, has promoted the idea that the country is on a trajectory to power past Western rivals. China stamped out the coronavirus, the messaging goes, with a resolve beyond the reach of flailing Western democracies. Beijing has rolled out homegrown vaccines to more than a million people, despite the safety concerns of scientists. China’s economy has revived, defying fears of a deep slump from the pandemic. “In this fight against the pandemic, there will be victorious powers and defeated ones,” Wang Xiangsui, a retired Chinese senior colonel who teaches at a university in Beijing, averred this month. “We’re a victor power, while the United States is still mired and, I think, may well become a defeated power.” The firm leadership of Mr. Xi and the party has earned China its recent success, say newspapers, television programs and social media. “Time to wake up from blind faith in the Western system,” said a commentary in the state-run China Education News last week. “Vicious partisan fighting has worsened in certain Western countries, social fissures have deepened, and a severe social crisis is brewing.”

Europe-Iran relations (Foreign Policy) European nations have pulled out of a Europe-Iran business forum in protest over the execution of dissident journalist Rouhollah Zam over the weekend. Zam had been kidnapped from Iraq and taken to Iran to face charges of fomenting dissent during anti-government demonstrations in 2017. Iranian Foreign Minister Mohammad Javad Zarif was also due to take part in the forum, which has now been cancelled. Iran summoned the German ambassador to Tehran over the European actions, and blasted the “interventionist statements” made in the wake of the execution.

Oil tanker attacked in Saudi Arabian port by “booby-trapped boat” amid ongoing war in Yemen (CBS News) An oil tanker off Saudi Arabia’s port city of Jiddah was attacked on Monday by smaller “boobyt-trapped boat” rigged with explosives, causing a small fire on the ship, Saudi state TV reported, citing an official from the state energy ministry. Earlier a shipping company said the tanker had suffered an explosion after being hit by “an external source,” suggesting another vessel had come under attack amid Saudi Arabia’s years-long war in Yemen. The attack on the Singapore-flagged BW Rhine, which had been contracted by the trading arm of the kingdom’s massive Saudi Arabian Oil Co., marks the fourth assault targeting Saudi energy infrastructure in a month. It also apparently shut down Jiddah port, the most-important shipping point for the kingdom. The United Kingdom Marine Trade Operations, an organization under Britain’s royal navy, urged ships in the area to exercise caution and said investigations were ongoing. It later said Jiddah port had been shut down for a “duration unknown,” without elaborating.

#headlines #news

1 note · View note

believeitseeitdoit · 5 years

Text

Sunday Surprises

Summary: Week one of regular NFL season is always entertaining, but this year is extra special for you and Seb.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Author Notes: Ummmm Hi, this is my first little ‘published’ fic, please be kind (or brutal it’s fine). I'm only motivated enough to post this because @thebescht and Evan Williams are brave. For reference, the dog here is based on my moose, a 100lb Black English Lab, I might make a moldboard to go with this idk, I might also delete this soooo cool thanks bye.

You sit on the ottoman, twiddling your phone in your hands waiting for Sebastian to find his coat. Jax bounces around the rest of the grey leather couch, disturbing the abundance of blasted throw pillows your mother insisted you buy when she first visited your’s and Seb’s apartment in Boston. Somehow, Jax hasn’t completely destroyed the merlot and sand throws, just a sprinkle of black fur littering their patterns. A quick ping rings out from your phone, accompanied by rapid fire vibrations buzzing up your thumbs, notifying you that Chris has sent yet another “are y’all coming yet” text.

“Babe, kick off is in 30 mintues! I will not be late to the first watch party of the season because you can’t find your one pair of Pats socks just to appease Chris!” You holler towards the bedroom where Seb is inevitably wasting time to avoid being in a room with multiple football obsessed humans.

“Y/N, I swear they were in the drawer and now they’re gone! Did you wash them or give them to Jax?” Seb playfully questions back from the depths of his closet. You know full well the socks are already on his feet. Hopping off the ottoman, you grab the dog’s leash and your jacket as motivation to move your boyfriend along. The hardwood floors creak as you walk through the kitchen, narrowly missing the island with your hip bones and whistling to Jax so he can bound to Seb and investigate the slowdown.

“Seb, seriously, can we just go? It’s not like Chris will give two shakes about your socks. He’ll be too busy complaining about my disgrace of a jersey to be disappointed in your not-actually-missing socks,” you sigh as you wander back to the bedroom and lean against the door frame, feigning annoyance.

“Fair point, Y/N. He won’t even get near you in your Seahawks jersey; bad juju or something,” Seb spins around and strides over to the walkway, reaching around your waist and tucking you into his side while he jokes. As you travel back up the hall to the front door, you look at the pictures hanging from the walls, more of your mother’s visiting touches. All perfectly angled and spaced down the walkway and throughout the living room, moments from your lives together and alone. One of you with a client’s daughter back in Seattle brings a fond memory of your time with youngsters and your retired lesson horse to the front of your mind. Determined not to cry, you sniffle and hustle the boys out the door.

Finally ready, supposedly lucky Patriots socks on his feet, Sebastian gathers his sunglasses and car keys while you hook Jax up to his harness and wander down to the car. The oversized labrador flings himself into the backseat of your Xterra. Seb catches you for a kiss on the cheek before starting the car and heading across town to Evans’ place.

“Remind me why we’re going to this again? We could just as easily watch the game in our living room and not have to hear him and Anthony scream at the TV for two hours of the Pats winning… again..” Seb whines.

“Because, A: I’ll be yelling too and you would complain either way. B: Chris always hosts Sunday Night Football, we host Monday, that’s how it’s worked since he learned I love the game, babe. And C: you love me so…. Also you know the sex is always better after a good screaming match between me, Chris, and the TV.”

“That last one is so not a reason but I’ll let it slide because the sex is always great. Did you tell Chris we’re bringing Jax or are you just assuming he and Dodger will leave everyone to mind their own business?” Seb asks as the black moose tries to climb over his arm onto the center console and into your lap.

“I texted him about it last week. He said it was fine. Plus, they’ll make each other tired so we don’t have to take him on a run tonight. More time for activities,” you giggle as you shove the dog back into his territory and wiggle your eyebrows in Seb’s direction.

“You are so smart, you know that? Better knock on wood he doesn’t interrupt again like last week with the damn light up ball.”

“Hey , you bought him that so I take zero blame. Turn up at the corner. There’s a spot to park right there,” pointing to an empty space just a few doors down from Chris’ place.

You climb out and grab Jax while Seb grabs the case of beer from the back and start up the steps, laughing at the obnoxious yells already coming from his stairwell. The door’s unlocked the way it always is when you have watch parties, so Seb turns the knob and Jax goes bounding through the hall in search of the noises after you drop his leash. A resounding “oof” and various yelps of “dammit, Jax” and “hey, buddy!” make you burst into a fit of laughter as you and Seb round into the kitchen. Spying Mackie on the floor with Jax square on top of him, you reach around to help him up, only to have Dodger come bouncing out from behind the island and toppling you over next to him, leading everyone into a second bout of laughter.

“Boys, off! Jesus Chris, teach your kid some manners,” you jokingly chide as you hop up and start greeting the harem standing around the kitchen island.

“You say that like your’s is so trained,” Chris sighs humorously as Jax launches his front paws onto the counter to swipe a piece of cheese. You shove him off and toss a rogue chunk of cheddar in his general vicinity, giggling at Chris’ hand motions toward the dog.

“At least he knows what he wants,” you shrug and grab a cube for yourself and snicker. “What did you expect from oversized bear cub? Seb feeds him off the table all the time.”

“Excuse me, he was your dog first, and you started that. I just can’t be the asshole who denies him!” Seb shouts from inside the fridge while he digs for a beer that didn’t just come out of a roasting car.

“Alright, this is fun, but can we actually turn the game on now? Kick off should be in five and I need to judge this rendition of the National Anthem beforehand,” Anthony interrupts the dog banter while heading to the connected living room.

Jeremy nods and lifts his beer in agreement from the barstool to your left, adding, “Just turn it up and we can watch from here. Y/N, grab yourself something and lets catch up for a minute. Tell me about the ways you plan to ensure the Seahawks somehow take it all this year.”

You lift your Yeti and aim the straw at Seb in response, “I’ll stick to water, gotta be functional enough to get this lightweight home tonight. Russell’s got a better O-line this year starting out. If he can whip his runners into shape for the long passing game we’ll be knocking on the playoff door easy. So long as Pete has mustered up a good, fresh defensive line, they can block anything and everything from here to New England.”

Seb makes his way around the kitchen to you and reaches around to bear hug you. “Babe, you’ve never denied yourself at least one beer at a game. What did I miss? I am also not a lightweight. It was Jaeger and it was ONE TIME!” He leans into your back and continues to hold you with one arm and reaches for a chip. “And, we were all drunk. It wasn’t just me. Chris was puking for hours when we got home that night. Mackie was passed out on the couch. Downey had to play sorority sister and hold Chris up. At least I was responsible enough to call you to come get me!”

“Actually, Robert had already called me and I was on my way, Honey, but whatever you say. I’m fine, really, just a little nauseated from your terrible driving skills. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll be golden.” You turn around in Seb’s arms and soak in his warmth while reassuring him you aren’t reaching imminent death. “Now, let’s go watch shitty football!” You slip under his arm and drag him toward the leather sectional where Chris and Anthony were trying to convince Jax and Dodger to not wrestle in front of the game.

“I heard that! Oh, c’mon! Boys, out! Go play in my room. I need to see what BS call the ref has made already,” Chris yelled as he launched a squeaky ball down the hallway towards his master bedroom for the dogs to chase. You jump to the side so you don’t get taken out again at the knees and Seb pulls you down to curl up into his lap in the long corner of the couch.

“You just assume it’s bull because you think every ref has it out for Tom Brady since ‘deflategate’. The tight end was clearly over the line of scrimmage before the ball moved!” You shoot a playful slap at his arm as you shout agreeance with the ref’s call.

First quarter turns to second and as half time creeps closer, you still feel queasy. It comes in random waves that are just enough to make you curl into yourself tighter and feel a small spark of fear for Chris’ upholstery, but not enough to leave.

Seb notices you shift your hands into you stomach and prods for answers.“Babe, seriously, you have a body of steel. You didn’t eat anything crazier than usual yesterday and you actually haven’t eaten much today from what I’ve seen. Are you okay? Do you need anything? Do you want to go home? No -- I know that’s a dumb question. I just don’t want you getting sicker here cuz you hate being sick in front of people.”

“I’m fine, just -- jimminy christmas trees what did you eat? It fricken smells Seb. Get away, go get some listerine or something, please,” you shove him off of you as whatever forsaken food wafts into your nose, throwing you over the edge. By luck, you make it to the spare bathroom in time to dry heave and throw up whatever water and miniscule amount of crackers were in your system.

“Ungh, shit. This is going to be a long season,” you mutter into the porcelain throne of misery. Adding a grunt of effort, you lift yourself up to rinse your mouth out and splash some water onto your face. “Maybe this was a one time thing. Maybe I won’t be riddled with this for three months or so. I’m 100% going to be fine,” you tell yourself while staring into the mirror, trying hard to convince yourself that it was a fluke and morning sickness wasn’t real.

“Y/N, you ok? I’m sorry the chips smelled weird. I think Mackie switched them out. Hey, you look a little pale. You need to go lay down?” Seb rattles off concerns and gives you a visual once over when you open the bathroom door and make your way back into the kitchen.

“Seriously, Y/N, you look like you might fall over on us. Please, the guest room is clean and open. Ma made sure it was done when she visited last week. Just go lay down and take a break for a bit. You can’t tell us this is a fluke. You’re a vet assistant. Strange smells don’t do shit to you…” Chris came over and aimed you toward his spare room while Seb grabbed your water.

“Dear God, everyone chill I’m fine! And I refuse to lay down in that guest room where I know for a fact that your teenage boy style New England Patriots bed sheets are currently laid out. I can’t defile a Seahawks jersey in that way. It’s straight up blasphemous,” you grumble at the boys who are trying too hard to take care of you. You think your grumbling works until you see a few black dots and grab Seb’s arm to steady yourself.

“Ok, fine. I’ll go lay down but only because that room probably doesn’t have whatever mystery dip stench is coming from the kitchen, NOT because I am dizzy and tired and kinda still nauseous,” you state matter-of-factly at both Seb and Chris.

“Your grip’s awful tight for someone who’s just getting away from a smell. Okay, okay, point taken, c’mon.” Seb guides you to the back of the apartment while simultaneously avoiding your half-assed slap to the back of his head.

You pitifully look down at the bed and Sebastian stifles a laugh. You were right about the sheets, but also too out of energy to resist the calling of a nap, even if it meant sleeping on Patriots logos. He tucks you in, kissing the top of your head and telling you he’ll check on you after half time. You don’t register him shut the light off and let the dogs in to cuddle with you. You’re too busy rolling over into the pillows.

Somewhere after halftime, you wake up with Jax next to your arm and Dodger on your opposite leg, both dogs dead to the world. You revel in the moment of peace, smiling down at your not super flat stomach currently covered by the jersey you won’t be able to wear by the Super Bowl. You hear a dull set of hurrahs and cheers from the hall, assuming the Patriots got an impressive first down or a touchdown, and giggle. “Well, I ain’t cheering em on, but those stupid sheets seemed to calm you down I guess. At least we know Chris will like ya.” You rub along your stomach, joking about your baby’s future in football. As the cheering dies down, you continue to think about the million little things that will happen from this point on. You only found out about your pregnancy a couple days ago, haven’t even told Seb, yet.

“Waitin’ on the right moment, huh, baby?” You whisper to your stomach as you think of the perfect way to tell your boyfriend. Kids weren’t in the plans yet, but your birth control had other plans. Damn that .01 percent. With a smile and last sigh of peace, you throw the sheets back with a plan.

Just as you work your way out of the bed, feeling alive and functional again, the dogs leap up and run out to alert the boys of your movement. You make your way down the hall and into Seb who meets you halfway with a kiss.

“Feeling better? You look much less dead, Babe.” Seb smiles at you and embraces you tightly.

“Mhmm, much better. Your badmhmm….” You nod and mumble into his chest while soaking in his warmth.

“Didn’t catch that last part. Hmm?” Seb looks down at you with a quizzical eyebrow. You look up with a smile and press a kiss to his lips.

“I said, your baby likes the Patriots. They finally settled when I laid down and bundled in those stupid sheets.” You turn your lips up into a smirk waiting for the words to settle in and his reaction to launch.

“Wait, what baby? Jax doesn’t give a shit about the Patriots. I’m los…..” Seb’s confused expression turns into a bright smile when he registers you putting a hand to your stomach and your telling smirk. “You mean, our baby? As in one currently growing as in your gonna be a mom? I’m gonna be a father? No shit? Baby you’re shitting me? HOLY SHIT!” Seb rattles off curses of excitement in happy tears and litters you with kisses and pulls you back into a tight hug.

“What are we yelling about?”

“Why are you two crying?”

“What did we miss?”

The guys all ask in one quick sweep while staring at your exchange. You look at them from in Seb’s arms and ask if they should know.

“What do you think, Seb, tell ‘em? Leave ‘em guessing? Or be kind?”

“Baby please, we can’t be cruel after this little moment.”

“Ok fine. Only cuz we both suck at secrets. I was just telling Seb that his baby really likes the Patriots because they only calmed down once i was laying down on Chris’ blasted sheets. So I am assuming this kiddo’s gonna be a big fan of uncle Chris in a few years,” you retell the tale and walk over to the guys while they all start smiling wildly.

“Baby?! What the hell Y/N!? Shit so happy for you, Smalls!”

“Seb, man you’re so done for.”

“Dude, I am so happy for you. “

“You two are going to be amazing parents.”

“I call dibs on buying baby’s first jersey!”

The congratulations and hugs fly in the kitchen, week one game completely abandoned in favor of your news. As it dies down and the fourth quarter timer is heard from the living room, everyone saunters back to catch the last two minutes and other game recaps. Seb wanders away to his coat and calls the dogs over to help him with his own surprise. You turn around to call him over only to see Jax trotting at you with a strange collar attached to him.

“Where did this bowtie come from, huh, Bubs?” You reach down to inspect the adorable black and white tuxedo bowtie collar and find a box attached at the buckle. As you unbuckle the collar and separate the box, you stand up and see Seb coming out from the hall with a sweaty, nervous smile.

“Babe, what’s this collar? And did you forget to take this weird magnetic tag off?” You toss the cardboard back at him, only to underestimate its weight and lob it at his head.

Seb catches it and pulls you closer. “It’s for him to wear if you say ‘yes’. But you have to look inside the weird box first, Y/N.” Seb returns the box to your hand and lets you inspect it.

You open the taped slit and find a black velvet box, immediately you have to wipe tears from your eyes so you can look at Seb’s cerulean ones.

“I’m only gonna ask this once baby. You’re my best girl, closest friend, fiercest supporter, my rock. And now the mother of my child. I don’t ever want to spend another day without knowing we will come home to each other. So, Y/N L/N, will you marry me?”

You can barely form the words, but a choked “yes” and the happiest sob of your life come out as you launch yourself into Seb’s arms. A slough of hoops hollars and more congratulations come from the vicinity of the couch, along with howls and barks from the dogs at your knees. You wrap your hand up to Seb’s neck and pull him down for another kiss. “I love every Sunday night of fall. But this is the best Sunday night ever, Baby.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian x reader #sebstan x reader Sebastian stan x reader

61 notes · View notes

pan-roses · 5 years

Text

No Sick Days {Moxiety Sick Fic}

Patton wakes up feeling sick, but he has so much to do today, that he can’t take a break.

Warnings: Sickness, Remus, Deceit, mentions of puke, passing out. (If I missed a warning, let me know please!)

_________

Patton woke up feeling icky and lightheaded. He felt covered in sweat and his eyes were out of focus more than usual without his glasses on, and his body felt lacking his strength to hold him up properly. However, he had things to do, as all husbands and fathers of three usually do. He had to make Virgil, and the kid's breakfast, take Roman to acting lessons, drop Remus at his friend's house to work on a school project, and offer help for Logan’s science fair project to be ready for Monday. Not to mention to tidy the house and laundry.

Such a busy man doesn’t have time to lay in bed and sleep.

He looked at the clock. 6:30. It was a bit earlier than he usually woke up, but he didn’t want to risk falling back asleep. However, he didn’t make it out of the bed, as he was pulled back down gently by Virgil.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, still half asleep, but awake enough.

“I was going to get a start on the day!” Patton said, making his voice a higher pitch to hide his tired voice. “You can never be too early.”

Virgil rose a brow. “First off, yes you can. And second, it’s way too early to do anything. At least stay in be for another half hour?” Virgil asked, already snuggling close to Patton, burying his head in his chest.

Patton chuckled lightly at his husband, true love in his eyes. He didn’t want to risk sleeping in, but he couldn’t say no to Virgil and caved in. “Okay, maybe just a few more minutes.”

“Knew you’d stay,” Virgil mumbled, already falling back to sleep again.

________

Patton felt slightly dazed when he felt a cool hand touch his forehead, waking him up. His eyes opened to a worried Virgil standing over him. “Virge?”

“Pat! Are you feeling okay?”

Patton felt worse than before despite the short nap. He felt generally warmer, and his head hurt more. But seeing the worry on Virgil’s face, he knew that would only worry him to hear. “I feel fine, why?”

“Your burning up. I think you’re coming down with something.” Virgil told. “Maybe you should stay in bed for the day, catch up on some rest and such.”

Patton shook his head, sitting up. He felt his head rush with dizziness, but he ignored it. “I’m fine, Virgil. I probably just overheated with all the blankets we have.” Patton lied easily, making his gut turn in guilt. “I’m fine, promise! Besides, I have lots to do today.”

“I could he--”

“No no! It’s finally your day off, you rest.” Patton leaned over and kissed Virgil’s forehead. “Relax, hun.”

Virgil sighed, knowing he couldn’t get past Patton’s stubbornness. “Okay… but you better take it easy!”

“I will. Now, you go get yourself settled downstairs, I’ll wake the kids and get a start on breakfast.”

“Heh. have fun with those adorable trainwrecks.” Virge joked, kissing the back of Patton’s hand before leaving for downstairs. Patton finally got out of bed and quickly changed out of his sleepwear. He put on his cat sweater that youngest, Logan, got for his birthday last year, a blue skirt, and blue knee-high cat socks. He felt playful today, despite his terrible headache and sore body. He can be cute anytime he wants, sick or not!

He finished cleaning himself up for heading to the kid's rooms. Roman and Remus shared a room while Logan got one to himself. Roman wanted a room to himself, but Logan had more stuff than he did, with all his books and such, that it would’ve been too difficult to move it all.

Heading to Logan’s room first, he knocked 3 times, lightly in case he was sleeping still. He didn’t want to startle the child. After a moment, a sleepy 13-year-old Logan opened the door, his glasses crooked on his face. “Good morning, father,” he yawned. “Waking me up for breakfast, I assume?”

“Well, it’s not made yet, but yes!” Patton knelt down to Logan’s height and fixed his glasses. “Did ya spend the night reading again?”

He nodded. “I read about a book that involved stars and how were made using different chemicals from the Big Bang Theory.”

“Sounds very interesting, kiddo! How about you get dressed and head downstairs with papa? I’m sure he’d love to hear all about it!”

Logan nodded, a faint smile on his face. Patton kissed his head and Logan sunk back into his room, gently closing the door. When Patton stood back up, he felt his head rush and lent against the wall for support as the world spun. He felt so lightheaded, but he things to do, and he wouldn’t let this stop him. Giving himself a moment, he walked to the next door over, smiling when he heard voices on the other side of the door. He gave the door and knock before opening it, knowing they wouldn’t hear it. It opened to reveal the two 15-year-olds, Roman and Remus, acting out the scene in Sleeping Beauty, where Prince Phillip fought against Maleficent’s dragon form. Roman was the prince, pointing his wooden sword at Remus, who was Maleficent and who was standing on the top bunk, dressed in a dragon costume.

“Where is my dear princess, you dragon fiend!?” Roman asked, acting pretty well.

“Hahaha, as if I’d tell you, you poopy prince!” Remus retorted back, making a face at Roman. “You will never defeat me and my beloved Condom!” Remus then held up a hamster ball with his pet fish, Condom, in it. The fish actually didn’t mind being in there.

Roman groaned “Urg, Remus, that’s not the line!”

Remus shrugged and held Condom up to his face. “I don’t really care, Condom liked my performance, anyway.”

“She’s a fish, Remus! There is no way you could know that.”

“I feel it. I feel it right here.” Remus pointed to his butt, making Roman roll his eyes.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re annoying. You and your fish.”

Roman gasped loudly. “How DARE you insult my dear Disney?! She is a goddess!”

Patton, although he did enjoy watching them, knew this could go too far and stepped in. “Now now, kiddos. No fighting, okay. Both your fishes are amazing!”

“DAD!” They both cheer, smiling brightly.

“Hey, kiddos! Since you’re already dressed, wanna head downstairs while I make breakfast?”

“Okay.” “Sure,” they said.

Patton nodded. “Make sure to feed the fishes, as well, before you do.”

He closed the door just as Logan left his room, dressed in his usual jeans and button-up. However, his tie wasn’t done up yet. “Ah, father, may I borrow you for some assistance? It will only be a moment, I’m sure. I just need help with my tie”

“Sure thing, kiddo!” He knelt in front of Logan once again and did up Logan’s tie. While he did, Logan suddenly touched his forehead.

“Father, you seem to have a rise in your temperature. Maybe consider taking a ‘sick day’?”

“No no, I’m okay, just a warm day.” When he finished the tie, he patted Logan’s head and stood up. “Besides, we have to finish your project today, don’t we?”

Logan’s face lit up, smiling up at Patton. “That’s correct. For the science fair!”

Patton smiled, feeling a burst of energy. Seeing his kids all happy and upbeat fills him with joy.

_______

Patton kept that energy all the way through breakfast and clean up afterwards. But he started feeling worse than before as the day went on. It was an hour before he had to take Roman to acting lessons and Remus to Dee’s house. Patton didn’t feel safe enough to drive like this, but he had to do something,

“Ro and Re?” He called. The boys stopped looking at their phones and turned to Patton. “How about we walk instead of me driving? It’s a beautiful day out, let’s enjoy it!”

When the boys excitedly agreed to walk, they packed up all they need. As they did, Virgil walked up to Patton, who had changed into a cat tank top that matched his sweater. “Pat, you seriously aren’t looking too good. You should really stay at home.”

“Virge, I really am fine. It’s just a warm day. I’m sure a walk will cool me off!”

Virgil didn’t seem convinced as Patton left with Roman and Remus. Virgil knew Patton tended to lie with things like this, and it annoyed him that Patton couldn’t take time for himself. Virgil felt a small hand holding onto his, he looked down to see Logan holding his hand, a worried look also on his face. Virge held his hand tighter, pulling his son closer. “Yeah, I know, Lo… I’m worried too…”

_______

The first stop they reached was Dee’s house. Remus ran ahead and rapidly knocked on the door until the annoyed face of Dee appeared. “Remus, must you be so annoying?”

“Duuuh, it’s my job, Dee-Dee!” Remus giggled as Dee rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, just get inside. You brought your work, right?” He asked, waving goodbye and closing the door when Remus was inside.

The next stop was Roman’s theatre. It was a bit further into town, about a half-hour walk. Patton and Roman chatted, but Ro defiantly carried the conversation as Patton was just trying his best to walk straight.

“Dad, you okay?” Roman asked, concerned.

“I’m fine kiddo, just really hot out,” Patton said, fanning himself to make his lie more believable. It seemed to satisfy him as they made their way.

When they arrived, Patton gave Roman a big hug as usual. “Have lots of fun, Ro-Ro. You’re gonna do great!”

“I know I will!” He said proudly. “Love you!” He said before running into the building, meeting up with his friends Joan and Talyn.

As Patton made his way back home, he felt horrid. His body was barely listening to him as he swayed while walking and his mind made the world spin. His stomach felt like it was burning food he didn’t have, which caused his chest to hurt from the heaving he was doing trying to hold back vomit.

“Uh, gurl-friend?” Patton heard a voice call out. He barely managed to turn, seeing his friend and neighbour, Remy standing there, holding a Starbuck’s as usual. His glasses were slid down his nose a bit so he could get a good look at Pat. “You look like shit.”

Patton couldn’t even say anything back, because when he tried, he felt like he was about to puke. He held his mouth tight with one hand, the other holding his gut. He felt so lightheaded that everything went white for a second.

Then he passed out.

______

When Patton woke up again, he was met with the worried face of his husband, who put a fresh damp cloth on his head. “Virge?”

When Virgil head his husband’s voice, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do you do this Patton? Why do you push yourself past your limits?”

“Virgil?” Patton asked, worried.

“You scared me, Patton!” Virgil said, his voice raised. “When Remy called me saying you collapsed, I froze, Pat! I was so scared, scared that you’d pushed yourself to death! I can’t take this Patton! I can’t-- I can’t lose you like that, I can’t lose you! I was so scared Pat…!” Virgil had tears falling rapidly down his face. He grabbed Patton’s hand and held it to his chest tightly. Pat could feel his fast heartbeat. “You have to take care of yourself… Please, please, just… take care of yourself. The world won’t fall apart if you take a break. We can take care of ourselves from time to time. You don't have to push yourself.”

Patton didn’t realize he was crying till Virgil wiped his tears away. Pat pulled Virgil’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “I’m sorry, Virge, I’m so sorry… I just, I feel like I’m enough for you all.”

“Pat, you are enough. You are always enough.”

Patton smiled, feeling love swell in his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too… We all do.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Taglist: (Ask if you wish to be removed from my one-shot taglist)

@romanasanders @daughterofsomnus@amazinglissawho@entitydark@lamp-calm-sanders@combine-the-kitchens@anxiously-unsatisfied-world @waywordwriter @boredafsposts @residentanchor

#oneshot #sanders sides #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #tw remus #logan sanders #deceit sanders #tw deceit #sick!patton #sick fic #moxiety #human au

109 notes · View notes

blueandyellow1 · 4 years

Text

Witch Hunt Chapter 12: Discussion

Ao3 link.

Yellow was in the middle of her intermediate level class when her phone began to ring and wouldn’t stop. After beginning her students on the next series of movements, she quickly excused herself, cursing herself for forgetting to turn it on silent.

When she finally made it to the offending device, she saw dozens of missed calls and messages from her sister. Frowning, she opened the phone’s menu, only for another incoming call to fill the screen.

“What’s going on?” the blonde says, trying not to raise her voice.

“Finally! I was worried you were dead or something.” Connie’s voice is teasing.

“I’m in the middle of a class,” Yellow hisses, her temper rising.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Connie’s voice deflates.

Yellow sighs. “If this isn’t an emergency, I’ll call you back when class is over, okay?”

“Wait! It’s big news about Mission Blue, I just got a little carried away and forgot you had classes. Call me as soon as it’s over okay?”

The line goes dead. Yellow lets out another sigh, trying to calm her nerves. Part of her wanted to be upset with her sister for interrupting her lesson, and another part wanted to call her right back and demand and update.

But a gentle hum of voices from the other side of the studio brought her focus back. Yellow placed her phone back in her bag and carefully arranged her face back into its passive resting position. She still had a class to teach.

…

After the last student had left for the day, Yellow was tasked with cleaning the studio. She grabbed her phone and dialed Connie as she grabbed a broom. As she listened to the ringing, she wiped a bead of sweat from her brow.

“Yellow!” Connie’s voice was bright.

“Hey, Cons. I’m all done for the day. What did you want to talk about?”

“Yes, Mission Blue. I thought we needed a cool code name for it.”

The blonde snorted. “That’s silly.”

“Oh come on! This is the coolest thing I’ve done in years. It might be the most awesome thing I’ve ever done in my life. Aren’t you at least a little excited?”

“I am!” Yellow insisted, sweeping her broom hard. “I’ll do all I can to help Blue.”

Connie giggled. “Oh, I know you will. You and her are so going to get together, I can feel it.”

“We kind of already are,” Yellow muttered under her breath before speaking louder. “Anyway, I thought you had some big news?”

“Yes, huge news.” Connie’s voice suddenly turns serious. “I think we should go look for the witch this weekend.”

Yellow stops mid sweep. “This weekend? As in tomorrow?”

“Yes. My Friday lecture was cancelled, and I know you get off work early. Plus, Monday is a holiday! That gives us three and a half days.”

“Connie. We don’t have anything to offer her. We don’t have a plan, we don’t even have part of a plan!” Yellow placed the broom back in its spot and began to pace.

“Give me some credit, Yellow. I have a plan. A whole plan.”

“What?” Yellow stopped her pacing. “How could you have a plan? I just talked to you yesterday and we had no solid ideas!”

“Give me some credit! Now do you want to hear the plan or not?”

Yellow sighed. “Yes, of course. What is it?”

“We agree to work for her.”

“What!?” The blonde nearly yelled. “That’s a terrible idea!”

“Okay, ouch? Hear me out. The witch uses the bodies she takes for work right? Well surely two workers are better than just one body! Three even, if Blue agrees. Don’t you think that’s a fair trade? Three for the price of one!”

“Connie, this witch is crazy though! She steals bodies and brings people back from the dead. I don’t think she’d agree to something so simple. Besides, even if she does agree, she’d probably have us do awful things like skin animals for their flesh and bones or something. Not to mention, Blue would never allow this. You know she’s already hesitant to let us do this for her.”

There was a moment of silence on the phone. In the seconds that passed, there was enough to make Yellow regret her outburst. But just as she opened her mouth to apologize, Connie spoke again.

“I found a photo of her daughter.”

“I’m--What?”

“A photo. It’s a black and white photo, I don’t even know how it was taken, but I found it in a book. There was a handwritten note that said that it was 'the lost treasure’. I don’t know what that means. But I think it’s important. The book I found it in, it was in the sports section, with another cover. But when I opened it, this picture fell out. I think we can use it as a bargaining piece.”

Yellow grabbed her bag, holding her phone on her shoulder. “Cons, this is kind of a big deal.”

“I know! That’s why I kept calling you!”

The blonde walked out the door to her studio, locking the door behind her. The winter wind was chilling, but she barely noticed. A fire burned in her mind as her thoughts raced. She tried to think of more questions to ask, but all of her thoughts ended up at the same place. She needed to talk to Blue.

“Okay, I am walking home now. I’ll talk to Blue about this and tell her we have something the witch might want.”

“Yes that’s a good idea. You should fill her in before I get there. I’ll be there in about an hour, and we can all talk this through before leaving.”

Yellow nearly tripped. “Excuse me? In an hour?”

Connie laughed. “Yeah, you’re off work now, right? We can leave as soon as I get there! I bought us bus tickets at 10pm. It’s late, but that was the cheapest time so bring snacks and some coffee!”

Instead of giving into the rising panic at her throat, Yellow laughed. “I can’t believe we’re doing this! We haven’t even found out if Blue can leave with us! This is insane.”

“I have a theory for how to bring Blue. Just wait until I get there okay? That way I can tell you both at the same time.”

The line clicked. Yellow sighed, running a hand through her hair, fingers crunching through the gel she used. She was still wearing her gi, things had been too intense to stop to change. She quickened her pace, just wanting to get home to Blue and think through this whirlwind of information.

I suppose it’s better this way, she thought wryly, I don’t even have time to overthink.

Walking back to her apartment was normally a quick walk, but she managed to come in half of her usual time, a record.

Once stepping through the doorway, she flung her bag down and called out to the spirit, “Blue, are you here? Azurea?” Then, she muttered to herself, “Please be here, I don’t want to walk through the apartment complex calling for you.”

||Is something the matter, Yellow?||

The blonde couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face at the gentle voice. She stuck her arms out as she walked into the room. “You’re here!”

Blue appeared at her side, a hand placed on her right shoulder. She nodded.

||Yes, I said I would be here when you arrived. You are a few minutes early.||

“Oh, I’m sorry. You did say that. It’s just that Connie called and…” Yellow hesitated. She didn’t want to scare the phantom, who had already voiced her worries at their rapid planning.

Slender fingers raised up to brush against her cheek.

||What is it? Your hair is slightly mussed, is something troubling you?||

Yellow flushes, running her hands through her hair once more. “I guess you picked up on that nervous habit,” she said with a laugh.

The spirit gave her a small smile, her blue eyes seemed to glow. For a moment, Yellow lost herself in those eyes.

Almost unconsciously, she blurted out, “Connie is coming in an hour and we’re leaving to find the witch tonight.”

Blue recoiled in shock, her hands flying to her cover her open mouth with a gasp. Yellow panicked, throwing her arms out, as if to embrace her. “No, Blue wait!” she cried, cursing herself for not being so direct.

After a few moments, Blue spoke, her voice slightly shaking and muffled from behind her fingers.

||I’m sorry. This is all so sudden and Connie is coming and we’re leaving tonight? How am I going to come?||

Tears began to slip from cerulean eyes and Yellow felt her heart twist. She wrapped her arms around Blue’s apparition, hoping that the gesture would provide some form of comfort. “It’s okay, Connie has a plan. She has something that we can trade the witch for your body. We can do this.”

Blue was silent. The blonde watched as tears streamed down her face. She looks so beautiful, she thought to herself, feeling her cheeks warm.

When Blue finally spoke, her words were slightly slurred, and they came tumbling out of her mouth. Her panic was clear, and Yellow moved a hand to her head, wishing she could stroke the silvery strands that floated around her.

||I don’t want you to get hurt because of me, the witch is so powerful, she might not want to give it back, I don’t want to anger her, you and Connie are going through all this for me, I’m not worth all the trouble, and oh, why are you looking at me like that?||

The glowing eyes disappeared as Blue covered her face. She was trembling, and her hair whipped around her. Suddenly, a blue light washed over the room.

Tears gathered in Yellows eyes as she fought the rising wave of panic. “Blue! Blue, slow down!” she nearly yelled.

Luckily, the shout got the spirit’s attention, and a glance at the tears in Yellow’s eyes dissipated the blue aura.

||I’m sorry.||

Blue wrapped her arms around herself, sinking down to the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest.

Yellow looked at her, her gaze still intense. In those seconds, Blue felt as if her skin was burning, and just when she thought she couldn’t take it for another moment, the blond spoke.

“You are worth it. I would do so much for you. I lo--” Yellow choked and cleared her throat before continuing, “I like you a lot. We’re going to do this, and no one will get hurt. I’m a good fighter, and besides, we have something she might want. We have a picture of her daughter.”

Cobalt eyes widened.

||A photograph? How is that possible? There were no cameras back then.||

The thin woman shrugged. “I don’t know. Connie found it. She can probably explain more when she gets here. I just wanted to tell you before she comes.”

Blue nodded, taking deep breaths.

“Will you be alright?” Yellow asked softly.

||Yes...I’m sorry for my outburst.||

“You don’t need to be sorry for your emotions, Blue. I know we’re moving quickly. I didn’t even know we were leaving so soon. Connie told me about the plan when I was walking home from work. She can be infuriatingly impulsive sometimes.”

To her relief, Blue laughed. She grinned back, savoring the beautiful sound.

||My sister was often rash too, always making plans at the last minute. But there’s beauty in that, as well, a chaotic beauty.||

Stars began to form in Yellow’s eyes as she gazed into Blue’s. “You’re so wise,” she said solemnly, reverently.

This earned her another laugh, and pride blossomed in her chest at the accomplishment. Almost without thinking, she leaned in to plant a kiss on the spirit’s lips.

But then the door swung open, and the two jerked apart, flushing as they looked to Connie standing in the doorway.

#my writing #bellow diamond #blue diamond #yellow diamond #steven universe #steven universe fanfic #fanfic #witch hunt

16 notes · View notes

bladekindeyewear · 4 years

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ bonus 2020-02-01

bladekindeyewear:

Boy that sure is a new HS^2 bonus I should blogread. And there was a commentary on the Patreon for the last proper upd8 too.

I’ll… do it sometime this weekend, not right away. (Had a stomach virus through Monday and Tuesday that’s left me pretty fucked over and still waiting for the aftereffects to flee.)

Alright, taking a crack at both of these now. (Both light on images and quoting, since it’s all Patreon material.) So what’s going on here? Are the bonus chapters splitting into separate stories perhaps, following the lecture in one and the PS^2 crew in another? Also, from the replies on the previous:

gaaraofsburbia said: It was very good and I was very happy

Good to know. Time to read, bonus first! *clicks link*

...the title of a book someone’s holding. Bookmarked (with a red flag?). Uh huh. Good start.

> ==>

“A picture book for young parliamentarians.) ...oh wow, it’s Carapacian even. Did the Mayor have anything to do with this book?

--Wait. Waitwaitwait. This isn’t-- the authors wouldn’t go back in time and show us like-- PM and the Mayor trying to start the-- nooo.

> ==>

Oh shit, never mind. This is a book ABOUT the Mayor. Starting from him farming on Skaia and continuing from there with a focus on societal structures presumably. So, sort of like what I just said but not quite as goddamn heartwrenching, most likely.

You know, this WOULD have been a good opportunity for the authors to finally bring some canon awareness to all the rampant Breath and Blood visual-and-textual symbolism around WV and PM’s arcs, giving people some HINT of their potential importance outside some crazy unproven blog post on some crazy wrong person’s blog. But I’m not really convinced Andrew or his new replacements, er... y’know. Care. About letting us know about all that cool shit. Or even dissuading us if we were somehow wrong. Just gonna... let us haaaang in the breeeze there forever, more likely. :T

...this is still what I’m most bitter about regarding the end of Homestuck, as you can obviously tell. Thinking -- still believing -- that we found something beautiful and deliberate he’d done, but refusing to have canon openly acknowledge any of it so that 99% of readers will never have a clue about it and the few of us who caught on -- if right -- are just regarded as nutters, and if wrong, NEVER have what we need to finally disprove and accept that wrongness thanks to his silence, thus continuing to believe wrongly and be regarded as nutters.

So I just keep reading and... vacillating. Vacillating on whether to believe any of this will get brought up in HS^2 canon, or whether to cynically fear they’ll take the worst route: Doing things EXACTLY like Andrew did and dropping only vague hints that keep it an implied-only, unconfirmed mystery forever. Because that’s what made the comic popular! And it’s “safe”. :(

...man, gut issues really bring the pessimist out of you, don’t they. Let’s keep reading. Once upon a time there was a simple farmer...

> ==>

Horrible kings kept fighting and didn’t care about the land, destroying it underneath their war. Right. (Mostly paraphrasing here and from now, mind you.)

> ==>

WV wanted to stop the kings, but the kings had power.

> ==>

That power had to be destroyed too. (Shows the rings.)

> ==>

Hm, the journey that ends up in the rings’ destruction to the desert? Are we going to fill in some context here?

> ==>

--And made friends with curious creatures and powerful people! (Showing the fake Can Town built with Dave and Karkat along the meteor trip.)

Assumedly internalizing all those practice-town lessons, of course.

> ==>

--Oh, cool! So one of the first things WV and PM did upon coming to Earth C to start their founding process was destroy the rings, the temptation of that power, throwing it into the Forge.

EDIT: krixwell said: "I don't know exactly how it reads in the bonus update because I'm not a patron, but WV and PM throwing the rings in the Forge happened before they entered Universe C, and was shown in HS proper (8107-8111, 8123-8126 and at the beginning of [S] Act 7). It was required to light the Forge and send the Genesis Tadpole to Skaia." Ah, file that under more things I forgot about, then.

> ==>

Where once nothing,

> ==>

Earth C was founded/born, etc.

> ==>

Ah okay! So with a backdrop of the Town Hall under construction, we’re getting some context specifically as to how and why the Mayor set up society the way he did on Earth C. Especially the challenging question of who would govern the world and how.

> ==>

Oh shit, text dump! :D

The problem was unfortunately compounded by the fact that when the topic of fair and effective governance is broached, most sparing intellects immediately assume a certain posture. Not one of surrender or admiration, but of abject and interminable boredom.

This fact makes it hard to treat such a fascinating subject with the proper amount of attention and enthusiasm, BUT WE SHALL DO OUR BEST TO UNDERSTAND REGARDLESS.

Alright, loving this.

Also, this’ll undoubtedly put into context just how MUCH the Mayor had to think about how society would work best to have set up -- and how little comparative thought Jane put into the process when just drafting up something United-States-like and familiar. Remember how awful it was the childlike way the Condesce essentially kept trying to recreate her familiar surroundings and rule structure on Earth? It was only natural that her Life-aspected protege would make similar errors, I suppose.

Back to reading this long page... I won’t just quote all the details of this representative system, because that’s up to y’all to pony up for. But I’ll note if there’s anything interesting in it that makes me think. Let’s see...

...Hm! The number of seats each kingdom got in parliament was based on voter turnout... THAT’S a heavy incentive to get out the vote, if your kingdom can literally lose influence if you don’t.

On the happy occasions where the maximum number of seats were allocated in all four quarters, this was known as a "full House".

Oh, fuck you. :)

...oh dear, that was only the beginning of the card slang.

I’m not going to list all of them here. They make sense in context, which is even worse.

Without going into too much detail, consorts all tend to have significantly shorter lifespans than the other citizens of Earth C. Because of this, a large number of House Rules were dedicated to describing exactly what to do if a seat was vacated mid-term due to the death of its occupant.

Not the carapacian kingdom, the consort kingdom. Don’t panic, y’all.

The DELIVERY OF JUSTICE (DoJ) was founded to keep the peace and arbitrate in all legal matters, and its members were the brave soldiers of God in this righteous crusade.

They also took care of the MAIL.

Oooooof course. :)

Unions get their rep, if only for a pun...

Oh, hm. The Mayor’s office is much like a ceremonial-only monarch’s office without serious power. Etc etc...... reading...

So governing Earth C was a complicated affair, and only became more convoluted over time. But the really important thing was that, despite all this complexity, it worked. It really worked. At one point, a whole field of mathematics was developed just to explain why the interim government worked so well, and they ended up proving it categorically. It was theoretically perfect.

Ppfffff

--ah. And then the Mayor has a chill as he looks at the clouds and somehow anticipates something terrible happening to it all.

That’s it for the bonus. I’m guessing the next chapter of this separate bonus story will go over some sort of threat the system endured, while the Mayor was still alive, possibly? Or cut forward to the creators’ arrival and how that fucked a bunch of stuff up? A sort of demonstration on why the gods who create a universe shouldn’t take charge of those living in it or such? Hm.

Alright, if that’s it for the bonus, let’s see what’s available for Patreon commentary... here we go, just the one for the latest mainline upd8 that I knew had come out.

Sketches and Commentary: Chapter 3, How Are Your Feelings

Before starting into this, I want to note that I do have SOME ray of hope for more Awake Jade involvement to shine against my previous rant -- because that OTHER callie-controlled younger Jade body is coming, which I’d forgotten about. As soon as the pursuit crew arrives in-system and THAT Jade finally gets there through whatever black-hole-powered teleportation magic she’s using (with Aradia and Robodave), it’ll be completely safe for OUR Jade to be awake and active at will. Theoretically.

So... y’know, that’s nice. Whenever that will happen.

So onto the commentary, we’re starting with that stupid ship.

(I think I actually said something along the lines of, "this is stupid, so we're using it." I know my Homestuck history. For those interested, the ship is modelled after a schooner, and continues the Homestuck tradition of spaceships that look like regular sea-faring vessels, only with additional stuff bolted on. - Pip)

...Yeah, can’t blame you there.

This is Jake’s “second best” ship. It makes me really nervous to think about what the third-best looks like.

Flying booty shorts, most likely.

...yeah, I did notice that latest upd8 playing with colors in a way the comic rarely even did, it was pretty nice. Glad to see they appreciate it too.

...Yep, Karkat getting owned just for the sake of it, there.

First off, Jade’s outfit. It rules. Alt!Callie may have violently forced her consciousness inside of this innocent girl’s brain, but damn these threads are sweet. She’s managed to keep Jade pretty on brand, while throwing in a couple embellishments of her own. That’s what we call “making it work”.

Yes, you’d better WELL fucking acknowledge what you’re doing by keeping Jade in a miserable isolated state for three years. A G A I N.

Nice bit about the casual showing of Dave’s eyes as evidence that Dave’s recovering through some of his old mental blocks.

Dave and Karkat are wearing each other’s shirts, which is traditionally a very gay thing to do. Even more notably perhaps is the fact that Karkat is wearing crimson without a hint of complaint. Again, I doubt this was an intentional move on his part. Just, sometimes you’re coming out of the shower, it’s chilly, and your boyfriend’s shirt fits. Busting through mental blocks should typically come across as whispers to me, rather than shouts.

--Hm, never considered the latter angle.

Karkat is being pretty mean to Possessed Jade. Which sucks, but this situation is incredibly stressful, and Karkat tends to react to stress by being mean. Treating Jade like an irritant allows him to put some distance between himself and the reality that he may have lost another friend.

Guh. That one stung :(

Initially the panel directions here were “everybody pauses to contemplate Dirk fucking Strider”

Mhmm, and you figured it’d be more unsettling to reverse it and remind us that the Prince is aware of all of this too.

Roxy’s heart-shaped sunglasses have become such a thing in the fandom that I kind of can’t imagine him without them at this point, so we decided to make it settled law.

Mhmm, I figured that was how they played it. One of the ways they’re incorporating fandom involvement.

Sometimes I feel like it should be Xam who does these commentaries, since there’s so much incredible shit going on with the art here that I’m really only equipped to comment on with shit like “oh wow, look at these colors. Green and purple huh. Wild. There’s also some light.”

It’s pretty understandable to have the writers take the lead on most commentary as opposed to the artists... normally.

But then you’d have the weird places where they’d have to work together without necessarily giving away their game. Like, all that WV/PM Breath/Blood visual representation I mentioned.

I still don’t know if they’re gonna give away the game on that eventually -- or if Andrew even gave them enough to go on to properly REPLICATE that sort of thing in this official continuation, even though my mind keeps telling me it’d make all sense to -- but if they are thinking about it, I doubt they’ll first show their hand in the commentary.

I love Kanaya’s new outfit.

I understand that sure, but will she be sticking with this outfit through the action though? Looking like a mourning nun?

Kanaya’s nursery story is, of course, The Little Prince, a French fairytale from the 1940’s. It tells the story, rather appropriately, of a young Prince traveling through space looking for something he believes he has lost.

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

I’m not sure why I keep thinking about this quote. Probably some shit that has to do with “themes” or something.

Hinting that once he’s beaten down and likely dying from this stupid exodus plan, at least some part of Dirk may finally realize that any fulfillment and purpose he was looking for with this megalomaniacal nonsense was left behind in the peaceful life he fucking ruined for everyone to do all this. The Heart-blind bastard.

God, Dave is just losing family members left and right, isn’t he? Really makes you think.

Gdi. :(

“Maybe it was naive to think a bunch of twenty something trauma victims could run a society.”

There it is. That’s the whole Epilogue.

And Andrew just had to let us ruin our naivety.

Wow. There really are just a whole lot of feelings in this chapter, aren’t there? It’s very aptly named. And it’s also actually the first part of HS^2 that got drafted; at least the first part that actually made it into the final draft. I wrote it earlier in 2019 when we were still kicking around ideas of what an Epilogue follow-up would actually look like.

Huh. Yeah, I can imagine when writing all this it would make sense to write/use this chapter first, as a knee-jerk reaction.

I do really think Karkat would have been a great president. He would have hated it, but he would have been good at it.

I’m glad the authors are in agreement with everyone else with a brain on this one.

Did you guys know that Karkat still feels immense survivor’s guilt for murderstuck?

Yes. Yes we did.

(Some continued remarks about how Karkat’s self-loathing is like a singularity that draws all blame onto himself in his mind etc.)

Apparently there was a metal gear reference in this second-to-last conversation? Don’t tell me, I don’t care.

Eat the fucking pancakes, dude.

A good place to end the commentary. See y’all when there’s more content!

#Homestuck #hs2 #upd8 #Homestuck Liveblog #Homestuck Commentary #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots

10 notes · View notes

poisxnyouth · 5 years

Text

teacher!dave fic. chapter 1. (d.d)

A/N: oops. I couldn’t not. I wrote this SO quick, apologies if there are any errors! let me know what you think. -hailey

wc: 3.5k

The thought of senior year in its entirety was nerve wracking. Left and right, everywhere you went, you were going to be experiencing things for the last time ever. Including your last relationship of high school.

You had been hoping to see Mrs. Porter on you schedule ever for your AP Lit class; instead, seeing someone named Dobrik. There were only 2 AP Lit teachers at your school, so you can’t help but wonder if whoever Dobrik is replaced Mrs. Porter, or if they replaced the other teacher.

You and your friends flood the steps of your high school’s main campus on the night of Open House, schedules in hand as you flit around the grounds, meeting your teachers and finding your classrooms.

It’s an easy process, you and your friends were the same types of students with a majority of the same classes, so out of your 7 classes, you shared the same periods with them. It being your senior year, finding your classrooms was a piece of cake and took little to no time.

You move period by period, hopping through your lists out of order. A constant in your conversation was whoever Mr. or Mrs. Dobrik was; it was rare for teachers to leave your school or quit, so it made you all curious.

You and your friends eventually make it to the classroom of your first period: room 225, AP Lit with Dobrik. You mistake who you assume is Mr. Dobrik for a student, his hips propped up against his desk at the back of the room, arms crossed as he talks to a parent. His eyes glance toward the door as your group files in, standing up straight and politely excusing himself.

“Hey! You guys have this class? Let me check you all off my roster, just so I know I saw you and talked to you and gave you the syllabus and all that.” Mr. Dobrik turns to his desk, grabbing his rosters and thumbing through a stack of stapled papers, eyes looking up as he counts how many of you there are and taking the matching amount.

He makes his way over to you and leans against the nearest desk to you all, pen and green highlighter in hand.

“So, hi. I’m Mr. Dobrik. This is my first year teaching so don’t be too rough on me, but like, if I’m doing a terrible job and you don’t understand anything…..please tell me, even though my ego will get hurt. Seriously, though, this is a really difficult course and while I want to make it academically challenging, I don’t want to make it impossible. I’m pretty malleable with homework deadlines, but only if you come talk to me. Otherwise, late work is an absolute no and I can’t forgive it,” Mr. Dobrik is highlighting the same spots of every syllabus as his eyes scan back and forth through your group of five, making a point to make eye contact with every single one of you every time he glances up.

“I know you guys have jobs and extracurriculars and everything, but again: my answer is to just talk to me. I’m easy in that aspect. Um...there was something else, too,” he scratches his head, pushing his glasses up and searching through a syllabus.

“Oh! Phones. You can listen to music or whatever, I just ask that you don’t text or post or anything during my class. I’ll go more into all of this on Monday, I just wanted to clarify the basics, okay?” He looks up and makes eye contact again, searching for all of your confirmations.

“I know there’s usually a summer assignment for this class, so you guys are lucky you didn’t have to do it since I wasn’t here. That being said, my lesson plans are especially rigorous for the first quarter because you didn’t have one.”

“Basically, a good rule of thumb if you have any questions about anything, is to come talk to me. You can’t get the notes done on time because you work three to ten? Come talk to me. You have band until eight that night? Come talk to me. I’m here to help you, not make shit - sorry, not to make things difficult for you. I want you to pass the exam and get this credit.” He stands now, capping his highlighter and uncapping his pen.

“What are your names and what period are you in?” Mr. Dobrik makes the point of eye contact, checking the name off of his roster, and writing the name on the syllabus. You’re the last one, and you stutter out your own name, your eyes glancing down to his lips as he scans through his list, putting a check at the side of your name. He writes your name in the top right corner of the paper in messy handwriting, looking as iif it was written with the intent to be neat.

“Okay! Thank you guys. I’ll see you first thing Monday morning. Have a good weekend.” You all murmur your polite reciprocation, waving him goodbye as he smiles and runs a hand through his hair, seemingly nervous.

Once down the hallway, one of your friends eventually bursts, “Okay, was he totally fucking fine or is it just me? He’s also super young. Like, he’s barely older than us. Please tell me it’s not just me.”

You and your group immediately start, “Oh my God, no. It’s not just you. He’s probably the most fuckable teacher now. He’s got that messy brown hair, doe eyed, smart, nerdy thing going for him. I literally felt speechless as he looked at me for my name...Y/N stuttered!” You blush at their derision as they only laugh harder.

You don’t know how you’re ever going to talk to him or ask him questions when you can barely tell him your name.

Monday morning comes quickly; your last first day of school begins with you and your group stockpiling into your car, picking each of them up one by one. It’s an easy (albeit early) morning leading up to the first bell.

You all wander through Mr. Dobrik’s propped open door a few minutes after the first bell. He’s fiddling with his coffee pot he must've brought, back turned to the door. He hears the ruckus, though, looking over his shoulder.

“Hey! Good to see you again. You guys can sit anywhere. I’m not gonna have assigned seats or anything, so…” he trails off, turning back to whatever he was doing. His hair is slightly wet, white dress shirt clean and pressed, paired with a red tie, black skinny jeans and black Vans. He was too close to your age to be your teacher.

You and your friends are mostly too nervous to make any sort of conversation with each other amid the mostly silent room, sitting together and mouthing to one another, Oh my God, he looks so good!

More students come through his door and he greets every single one of them, quietly fixing himself a cup of coffee in a mug that stated what must have been his alma mater. The late bell rings, Mr. Dobrik immediately shutting his door and taking attendance. He calls out the names under his breath, eyes darting in between his computer screen and his students as he searches for the familiar faces.

“Y/N is present...okay, we’re good! Everyone’s here.” Mr. Dobrik doesn’t look at you as he says it though, one of your friends kicking at your leg under the table as you blush at the fact. He quickly sets up his computer and his PowerPoint on his class information, leaning against a table as he sips at his coffee.

“Okay, hi, everyone! I’m Mr. Dobrik. I went to University of Illinois and graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree. I majored in English and minored in Film, and I’ve just started an online Master’s program with U of I, where I’ll study Psychology. Um, I just turned 23, like, last month, and this is my first year teaching so all I ask is you don’t murder me if you don’t like something about my class or how I act, ‘cause I’m new at this!” Mr. Dobrik takes another sip of his coffee, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and hitting the next arrow on his keyboard, revealing a slide of essentially everything he had explained to you the night of Open House.

“So, like, the phones...I don’t care if you listen to music, but I don’t want you Snapchatting or playing iMessage games or anything while I’m trying to teach or you’re supposed to be doing an assignment, you know? I believe it’s disrespectful and rude; don’t waste my time and don’t waste yours. This is an AP class and we all know it’s a difficult course. If any of that’s an issue for you, I politely ask that you head down to guidance and snag you one of those handy schedule change request forms. Um,” he pauses, “I won’t ever put my hands on your stuff; you don’t touch my stuff and I won’t touch yours. It’s simple. I respect you guys and it’s not fair if I can do things you can’t, you know? So, I won’t take your phone. Again, I will never lay a finger on anything that’s yours, however, if your phone is out and you’re not changing a song or something, I will kick you out and send you to attendance. It’s different if you come up to me and say, Hey, Mr. Dobrik, my mom is calling, can I step outside and answer it? Like, duh. If it’s important, just ask me.” Mr. Dobrik continues sipping at his coffee, pulling his glasses off and placing them on the table. He rubs at his eyes before he slowly takes another mouthful, eyes peeking up sleepily as he looks around the room blindly.

“That’s really the gist of this whole thing, honestly. If there’s an issue, if you need more time for an assignment, need to take a phone call or text someone back, just talk to me. I was practically just in high school, so I get it; I know how hard it is when everything is due at the same time and the pile keeps getting bigger and bigger and you’re trying so hard to balance everything along with school. I’m also all ears if you want to come and talk to me about something that’s happening in your life or something similar, I have A lunch so if you guys want to come in and hang out, feel free. Again, the main point is: if you have any issues at all, just come talk to me, we can work through it together. Most of you are seniors, so it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.” He shrugs nonchalantly, putting his glasses back on and placing his mug on the table. “D’you have any questions?” He scans the room quickly, taking everyone’s unresponsiveness as his answer, “No? Okay. Cool.”

Mr. Dobrik continues speaking about the first quarter and what you’ll cover during the first few units, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows as he lectures. He reveals the first assignment: simple Cornell notes for the first two chapters of the textbook due Wednesday.

“The plan is to have a day every month where I meet with you guys and talk about what you understand and what you don’t. My philosophy is that your grade reflects what you know, not what work you did or didn’t do or copied off of someone else. If I can talk to you and have a good discussion about whatever we’re analyzing at that time, you’ll be fine. I really just want you to be able to analyze and have the ability to connect what we read with our personal lives in this day and age. You probably know this, but we’re starting in the 1600’s and going until present day. We’re going to read some John Keats, William Wordsworth, Anne Rice, Charlotte Bronte, et cetera, et cetera, you know the drill. I’m going to try to pick things that I believe you will be genuinely interested in or connect with, and if I don’t...um, not to throw him under the bus or anything, but it’s probably Mr. Carroll’s pick that he’s making me do with him. I’m serious! He wanted to analyze, like, the Federalist papers and I immediately said hell no.

“Really, though, your grade reflects what you know. And you guys probably need to get to it, so I’ll stop beating you over the head with my voice. Talk to me if you don’t like a certain type of assignment and we can come up with an alternate; talk to me if you need to take a call; you can eat in here but be nice about it; talk to me if you don’t understand something, all that jazz. I’m easy to get along with, I promise. Just talk to me and respect me and we’re all good. Cool? Alright. Textbooks are under your seats. You’ll need to go down to the Media Center on your own time to check one out. Get started. I’ll come around and talk to you guys in a few.” Mr. Dobrik finally pushes himself off of the side of the table he had been leaning on for the past 15 minutes, students rustling through their bags for pens and paper as he sits at his desk, submitting his attendance and responding to emails.

“Y/N, stop staring!” One of your friends, Jessie, kicks you under the table for the second time that period. “You’ve been drooling over him ever since he said Hi, I’m Mr. Dobrik! Like, it’s impossible for you to stare any harder. He totally noticed, too!” She’s whispering as you all work, a quiet hum of voices spreading across the room.

“He did not!” You defend, “No way. I was just paying attention.”

“Y/N, you were literally leaning against your arm with hearts in your eyes. Get a grip. If he wants to talk to us as much as he says he does, you’re going to have to get over it. He’s our teacher and he’s hot, but that’s all he is!”

“Oh my God, Jessie, it’s not that big of a deal. Just because I think he’s hot doesn’t mean I want to date the guy-,” you’re scribbling main ideas down as you skim through the paragraphs.

“Who’s the guy? Maybe I have him,” Mr. Dobrik leans over your table, scanning over your group’s papers before looking at you.

“Oh, um,” you blush at his eye contact as he bites at his lips, looking down at you. “Doesn’t really matt-.”

“I’m joking, Y/N,” he cuts you off and leans over, turning your paper to face him. He repeatedly glances between you and the paper before speaking once more, “Okay! You ladies good?” You all murmur your agreement before he moves around to another group, shifting from table to table.

“Y/N, what the fuck was that? He has to know you’re into him!” You shake your head, no longer wanting to speak about it.

Two days later in Mr. Dobrik’s class, he’s going around, table by table, and grading everyone’s notes in front of them. It’s a snicker fest between your friends as he leans over you, red pen in hand as his eyebrows scrunch together and he shakes his head.

“No. You did this wrong. I’ll give you partial credit, but it’s not what I asked for. You can come in here during lunch and redo it for full credit. They look good, though.” He’s stern, already moving onto Jessie’s work before you stop him, making his eyes meet yours.

“Mr. Dobrik, respectfully, what do you mean? You looked at my notes both Monday and yesterday and you said it was fine. Like, I don’t understand. This is the first assignment of the quarter, and I’m starting it with a fifty? I’ll come in and redo it, but why? I just don’t understand.” You maintain the eye contact with him, his lips going in between his teeth as he chews on them for a split second.

“We’ll talk about it at lunch, okay? It’s fine. We can do this later,” he promises, returning to Jessie’s work as you stare at the bright red fifty percent at the top of your page.

So, you come in during lunch. He’s alone, typing away at his laptop as you walk through the door.

“Hey, Y/N. Come sit and we’ll talk. Can you get out the notes?” You feel odd about this already, silently obeying him and pulling the papers out as he continues sending emails, not looking at you. You wait quietly, placing the notes on his desk. He turns to you, looking them over quickly and leaning in closer. He’s too close, it feels like, and you can smell hints of his cologne mixing with his soap.

“Yeah. Okay. So, like, you paraphrased this entire time. There aren’t any bullet points, they’re just paragraph summaries. I don’t want what the book says, except for vocab, maybe. Like, I can tell just by looking at this that if I made you take a quiz right this second you’d fail it. Convince me. Make the work worth it and make it help you in the long run.” He leans back in his chair, looking at you again.

“I thought you said it doesn’t matter how we take our notes-.”

“It doesn’t,” he shrugs, “I don’t care how you do it as long as you know the content. But you don’t.” He doesn’t appreciate your talking back to him, but he lets it slide, liking the fact that you feel comfortable enough with him to argue about your work.

“How do you know that?”

“Y/N. I’ve peer edited and peer edited and peer edited these past 4 years of my life. I can spot when someone’s writing is half hearted. Even if it’s just notes. I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh, shit, I didn’t mean it that way, like, I never thought that you didn’t know what you were doing, I was just asking-.” He waves you off, smile playing at his lips.

“I know. I’m teasing,” Mr. Dobrik rolls a pen in his fingertips, running the pads of his fingers down the ridges of its side. “Really, though, just think about the content thoroughly and analyze it and you’ll get a 100. The work was phenomenal, I mean it, I just don’t think it’s the best you can accomplish as a student. I know I’ve only had you for 3 days, but like, it’s really obvious to me that you can do better than half-assed summaries. Again, they’re still great, but you can do better. It’s really not about the grade, at this point, right?”

You tilt your head in confusion, looking at him as he leans forward.

“Your work is college-level already. They’re just summaries, but you reworded them great and got the main idea across fine. If you do your best, I’m giving you a 100 in here,” he shrugs again, still playing with the pen in his hands. “I also saw you skimming the passages and your mind was somewhere else entirely.” You know what he’s hinting at, and it’s suddenly obvious how right Jessie was. He knows, but there’s nothing you could do about it and there’s certainly no going back.

“It’s fine. Just be present in my class and we won’t have any issues.” What the hell did that mean? That he knew you had the hots for him and that it was fine, that he was perfectly comfortable with it as long as you kept focused?

“Back to the point, though. You can produce better academic work. Do you agree?”

You nod, meeting his eyes.

“Okay. So, since you agree you can do better, I can start pushing you. If you want that, of course. Do you?” He’s pushing his fingers through his hair now, still looking at you. You don’t know what game he’s playing at, but something in you is telling you there’s a different motive than purely a teacher/student drive. Still, though, you say yes, looking at your hands.

“Okay. Then, tomorrow, I want the revised notes, your favorite poem, and a five paragraph analysis of it on my desk first thing. Can you do that for me?” You make eye contact again, nodding.

“Then you’re all good. I just wanted to talk to you privately about it. Let me know if it becomes too much or something. I honestly just think you have a lot of potential and as your teacher, I’d hate to see it go to waste. I don’t want you doing what I did. I didn’t try hard enough.”

“That’s besides the point, though. You can go. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Mr. Dobrik promises as you both stand and he begins walking you to his door. He’s putting the doorstop in as you step out of his room, making sure you hear his Can’t wait to see what you come up with for me!

You stay up until 2AM ensuring everything is perfect.

#david dobrik fic #david dobrik #vlog squad #vlog squad fanfic #david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik x you #david dobrik imagine #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad fic #david dobrik fanfiction #david dobrik fanfic #teacher/student au #TALK TO ME ABOUT IT #WHAT DO YOU THINK

285 notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 6 years

Text

second. ⇢ alfie solomons

summary: the subject of payment has alfie & you testing the waters. pairing: baker!reader x alfie solomons word count: 2k rating: some mild swearing & canon-typical banter a/n: alfie is going to work for this one, ok, i’m emotional about this goofy idiot.

“Miss, Mr. Solomons is here again --”

“Tell him to go away, Ellie.”

You’ve got a tray of five loaves in your arms, loading them fast into the oven and snapping the door shut. The heat sets along your face, sending your hair from its place swept high along your neck. You wring your hands from flour, sighing as you spot Ellie lingering in the doorway from the corner of your eye. The kitchen is hot and it’s doing nothing to quell your mood.

“Ellie.”

“Miss, he’s insisting --”

“There you are!”

He’s like Hades: charming and quick witted and terribly handsome, and God, he’s persistent. This is the second time this week he’s paraded himself through your bakery’s doors demanding you sit for an apology -- it’s all for show. And you’re not about to be muscled into some sort of new business deal from the infamous Solomons leader. You’re not looking to snack on seeds of pomegranate and lock yourself into his own version of hell.

Your father had a deal, and you intended to keep the deal.

The men working the shop watch as Alfred Solomons swaggers into the kitchen.

His cane snaps against the floors of the bakery; your eyes roll faster than you can catch them. As the man staggers into your bakery, you fleet about -- the icing for the O’Dooley’s wedding needs mixing, so you see to it. And Alfie watches.

His hat hangs low on his face. Green eyes watch from under the brim. He seems more predatory today than before. Even when he’d lurched through your front doors with his gargantuan personality, he’d not been so terrifying. But now? It’s almost like he’s looking for trouble.

Bones to pick his teeth with.

He scratches his beard before speaking again -- despite the mean look in his eye, he’s chipper, and you aren’t feeding into it. You turn, mixing bowl on your hip as you fold in the sugar with deft hands.

“Smells wonderful in ‘ere,” he says, waving ringed fingers through the air, “Really, love, s’nice, yeah?”

“Do you need something, Mr. Solomons?”

“Yeesh,” he breathes through gritted teeth, “M’ here t’ apologize, luv, really -- though I did come las’ week an’...”

“That was two days ago.”

You shove past him, dropping the bowl to the counter with a clatter and motioning to Alfie’s henchman crowding the tiers of cakes. Your hand falls to your hip, eyes narrowing when Ollie -- young and lanky -- doesn’t move.

“Well, I mean, yea, but t’was Friday, an’ now it’s Monday --”

Frustration builds fast and bubbles over. You throw your hands in the air, groaning loudly. When you turn on your heel and spy Alfie unceremoniously poking around by the pastry case, your voice rises sharply.

“Mr. Solomons, I have a bakery to run.”

He jumps a bit, gaze snapping from the macarons to you. “Alfie, luv, s’Alfie. M’not y’ father.”

No. He isn’t.

Alfie tries not to seem so… hungry. He blinks at you, straightening himself, and proceeds to wave Ollie off. The young man seems to hesitate, but upon Alfie settling into one of the stools by the island, he ducks out the back door and busies himself outside, watching carefully through the cakes in the shop window.

Ellie watches, keen on distrust, before you wave her off as well. No doubt she hurries off to gossip with your sister.

With Alfie’s settling in, you sigh.

Clearly this wasn’t just about an apology.

“I’ll try n’ make this quick, yeah?” it’s a low growl, “Your ol’ man had a deal wiv us, y’see, an’ now tha’ ‘e is dead in th’ ground, m’ makin’ sure you understand exactly wha’ kinda deal we made, yeah?”

“Mr. Solomons --”

“Alfie, just call me Alfie,” he snaps, quickly recoiling at the volume of his own voice, “No need fer th’ formalities, yeah? No need. Jus’... quit that.”

Reminds him too much of the Army.

You swallow, moving to cross the kitchen and discard his apart tantrum. “Then make it quick, Alfie, I have work to do. The O’Dooley’s wedding is tomorrow --”

“No shit,” he chirps, “Max?”

“No,” you breath, “Oldest one, Thomas.”

“Ah,” he leans back in his chair and it creaks, “Well don’ let me stop you, yea?”

You pause, only for a moment, before you unceremonious drop a tier to the kitchen island and gather a knife to begin icing. Alfie watches how quick your hands move, watches how careful you are -- you’ve been under the wing of your father for years, and as lead of The Bakery & Pastry Shoppe on Main, you have a reputation to uphold.

The family business had been built form the ground up.

It shows in the cracks in the walls; shows in the cutthroat way you hold yourself. You’re used to the threats, no doubt.

“You’d said you’d make this quick,” you shirk out, “If you’d like cake decorating lessons --”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alfie chatters, waving his hands and dropping his hat to the table. He looks younger like this, less like a wolf in sheep’s skin. His hair is unkempt, though you suppose that’s as much as his staple as the chains hanging low around his collarbone. He crosses his arms. Your gaze jumps to him for a mere second. “Yer father an’ I had a deal.”

“You said that.”

“Mm, an’ yer father paid me a fair sum t’ keep you an’ y’ sisters nice and safe, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“An’ still, I ‘aven’t gotten a payment,” Alfie says, voice rising, “An’ why’s that, lil’ girl?”

Alfie hadn’t expected the reaction he got.

In a blink, the knife you’d been using to ice the cake is drove into the kitchen island between his fingers, frosting flying across his shirt -- you’re dead-set, sneering in his face as you lean over the island. Alfie recoils, shouting.

“Good god, woman -- !”

The knife is retrieved from the wood with a satisfying plunk and is waved in his face. You’re rounding the counter, hunted turned huntress, and Alfie is rooted to his spot in his chair.

“My father told me about you -- told me plenty,” you spit, “You served alongside one another in that god forsaken war, he’d known your mother for christ’s sake. My father looked out for you as much as you did him. For you to come in here and belittle me --”

“Sorry, yes,” Alfie snaps, hand moving to press the frosting covered butter knife away from his face, “Rude a’ me.”

The knife snaps right back to its previous position.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t go to Sabini. Or the Shelby’s? Tell me why I should pay you all that when I could get the same amount of protection from the Peaky fuckin’ Blinders, huh? Or is all this,” you gesture to him, sitting there, looking rather wide-eyed, “all because of a bunch of gang territory horseshit?”

Alfie swallows, then, after a beat of silence speaks.

“Y’ know,” Alfie coughs, “Y’ father said t’ watch out fer y’ when th’ time came. M’ startin’ to realize ‘e meant tha’ you’d cut a man, rather than needin’ protection.”

You drop the knife then, frustration peaking. With a sigh, you wipe the knife quickly and turn your back on the gang leader.

“I’ll tell y’ why you shouldn’t go t’ those fuckin’ Peaky Blinders,” Alfie waves his hands, moving from his seat and leaning on the counter, “Because Tommy fuckin’ Shelby ‘as ‘is own shit to deal wiv, and a pretty lil’ bakery with a pretty lil’ baker is th’ last of ‘is fuckin’ worries, yea? I made a promise wiv y’ dad tha’ I would take care a’ you n’ your sisters. I ain’t lettin’ that slip.”

He closes the distance between you both, eyes wide -- he’s tall, even with his cane and crooked step. Your father had spoken fast about Captain Solomons. Imagining the man before you in that damned uniform your dad had come home in all those years ago? Impossible.

You can feel his breath fan across your face. You blink up from the cake.

“Don’t have your own shit to deal with, Mr. Solomons?”

A crooked smile.

“A promise is a promise, luv.”

A week later, you stroll through doors of Solomon's distillery.

Ollie nearly drops dead upon realizing it’s you getting out of the car pulled ‘round front. Your coat is pulled close, it’s only two weeks away from winter anyways, and your clutch is gripped tight in gloved hands.

“I’m here to see Alfie,” you say, peaking up at the lanky young man by the gates, “He doesn’t know I’ve come ‘round -- though, I have my payment with me. No doubt he’ll be willing to sit for that.”

Ollie hums, motioning you to follow. “No knives, Miss? Butter, icing or otherwise?”

You laugh. “No, but if you’d like to check --”

“Just procedure.”

The boys who stop you are quick. They pat you down, then give Ollie a nod. You slip them both a smile and follow Ollie.

The distillery is in the beaten up part of Camden, but there’s something about it that settles a bit of comfort into your bones. There’s a steady sense of work here -- the rooms smell like water and sugar and burns like rum.

Alfie’s office is at the end of the building, behind two heavy set steel doors. When Ollie knocks, he’s met with a low “Yea!” and the sound of shuffling. From behind Ollie, you watch as Alfie tugs the doors open and blinks between the two of you.

He’s dressed in a plain cotton shirt and apron, nose adorned with a pair of golden glasses. He looks at home here -- his office is warm.

“Well inn’ this a nice surprise.”

“May I come in?”

“Oh,” he breathes, “Right.”

Ollie lingers, watching by the far door, as you make your way into the room.

Alfie’s office is bathed in the warm light of gas candles, cluttered with paperwork and the back wall, behind his desk, is adorned with shelves and a heavy safe -- had you forgotten about the type of man you’d been dealing with before, you’d been reminded.

The gun on his desk is loaded.

He falls into the large leather chair with a breath, straightening his back and propping his elbows up on the desk.

“So,” he starts, “T’ what do I owe this pleasure? Gunna try n’ stab me again, yea? I wouldn’t say tha’s in y’ best interest, mm. Not ‘ere, s’ a territory thing, yea?”

You laugh. “Your boys patted me down.”

“Not too rough?”

“Not too rough.”

“Good,” he waves his hands, plucking his glasses from his face, “So, why’re y’ here?”

“Payment.”

You’re tugging your gloves off. Alfie is watching.

“Hm.”

Bare fingers muscle the stack of pounds from your clutch, leaning to place them onto his desk. Alfie quirks a brow, moving to lean to look at the small desk calendar to his left.

“It’s --”

“The eighth. I know,” you wave your hands, crossing your legs and huffing, “My father left a detailed will. He explained the payment system, how you preferred the transactions, when, the details of the agreement. I would have been here earlier had the bakery not been such a mess this morning.”

“So --”

“So, you coming into my bakery demanding payment? That was a way for me to see your play, Mr. Solomons.”

“Cheeky girl.”

You stand, gathering your gloves and clutch. Your smile is like a kick in the gut. Alfie Solomons has to catch his breath.

“Until next month, Mr. Solomons.”

“Alfie. Remember, m’ not y’ father.”

“No, you’re not.”

He laughs. You’re half way out the door when he calls your name.

“Mm?”

“I’ll be seein’ y’ sooner than the end a’ the month, yea.”

“Sure, Alfie.”

#alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #alfie solomons fanfic #tom hardy imagine

1K notes · View notes