#hope everybody's having a decent day <3

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: hi hello welcome to part three. i flunked the quiz. lemme know what you think. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. this chapter kinda sux. can't believe i went through a breakup just last week and i still cant write decent post-breakup scenes.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab hope i didn't forget anyone.

masterlist.

you: *sent a link*

him: ?

him: what's this

you: benefits of crying

you: read it it's enlightening

him: some people do not cry over a breakup you know and that is totally okay

you: why crying helps.

you: 1. tears release toxins, stress hormones to be specific. it is good to let all the bad energy out.

you: 2. it aids sleep. no need for further explanation.

you: 3. crying releases oxytocin and endorphins. i know you don't know what an oxytocin or an endorphin is but they're happy chemicals.

you: 4. crying helps you receive the support you need from the people around you. EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY is okay, max. stop treating it like an STD.

him: it feels like an std

you: pussy

you: emotional vulnerability is a thing and it's normal so stop trying to be a big strong man when you're barely holding it together.

you: you may look fine now but i know you

him: please stop

you: no

you: 5. crying has a self soothing effect. very nice actually. it activates the rest and digest system.

him: what even is that

you: the parasympathetic nervous system

him: ??

you: this is why you shouldn't have dropped out of high school

you: education is important yknow

you: youre already lacking in three forms of intelligence, academic, emotional n social intelligence

him: fuck you im smart

you: fuck you 2 and yeah you're smart but only in geography

you: you probably can't do your taxes

him: im dutch so the company's account department do it for me by default

him: the american system is just weird

you: cant argue w/ u there

you: also, 6. crying helps restore emotional balance

you: see? you need that

you: yknow now that i think abt it you should consider seeking therapy

him: what makes you think i’m not in therapy right now

you: well have you considered getting MORE therapy?

You stand in front of the body mirror, holding the Red Bull polo shirt against your body to see how it looks on you for one last time. On your right sleeve, the word MANAGER is written in bold, white text. Because that was what you were. Just a manager.

In another universe this is not the shirt that you’d be wearing. The MANAGER would have been ENGINEER. In another another universe where your family has been well-off enough to continuously send you to karting school and you would have been the one driving the fucking car by now.

You know, if Max has even tried talking to Horner and suggested that you should be moved into the engineering team, then you wouldn't be stuck wearing this god-awful polo that burned your skin every time you wore it for work. Everybody reduced you as Max’s American manager and because you are American, most of them kind of just assumed that you're dumb, you know?

Does the world even know how smart you are? That you graduated top of your class, got the best thesis award, and that you had finished your masters just this year? Did they even know that a Japanese car company wanted you on their research team? That a NASCAR team wanted you on board as one of their engineers? Does Max even know?

Fuck no. He only knows that you're the best at ironing clothes and organizing his Google calendar and memorizing his entire coffee order by heart. He knew you're good at extinguishing kitchen fires and kicking ass in YSL Opyum heels. You doubt he knows that you can do Calculus in your sleep.

You can take it if the world puts you down for your appearance. But if the world puts you down because of your intellect? That's a different story. You'll take any insult to the face but not to your intelligence.

You have four days left in Monaco so you have begun packing already. You're right, everything did fit into three suitcases. Also, you haven't told Max yet. For some reason, you’re too anxious. Which is shocking to say the least because you never ever gets anxious when it came to Max Verstappen. You wouldn't have lasted this long working alongside Max if you were a pussy.

Max Max Max Super Max Max—

“[Name] here. Need anythin’, champ?”

Hearing a sob on the other end of the line immediately activates your fight or flight response. Your eyes widen and you toss the Red Bull shirt aside. Your legs leads you to the nearly empty shoe rack stationed beside the front door, grabbing the pair of shoes at the very top of the tiny shelf and throwing them on.

“I’m comin’ there. Hang on, Max. You wait for me, okay?”

He doesn't answer, just continuing to sob and the sound absolutely breaks your heart.

You run to his penthouse at a speed that will even put the RB19 to shame. Not even bothering to knock, you barge in and yell his name in the empty halls of his penthouse. You search in the kitchen. He's not there. The living room. Not there either. The room where his simulations are. Not there. You run to his bedroom upstairs.

The door is locked. Dammit. Panic overflooded your system.

“Max, sweetheart, you there?”

No answer, but you can hear a faint sound behind the door if you press your ear against the wood. Firefighter training covered how to open a fucking door when it was locked so this once again becomes a situation where you're grateful that you did that tiring and borderline suicidal volunteer work.

Max keeps a fire extinguisher inside his penthouse as per your advice. There is one stationed in almost every room inside his house. You knew there is one inside his room and another one just at the end of the hallway. You make a quick run for it and once you have the extinguisher in your hands, you run back to his door.

“Step away from the door!” you instructed while your mind mentally calculates your payment plan as you hit the door knob with so much force, the walls tremble at your strength. You're functioning on pure adrenaline. Your instincts only yell one thing and that is: go to Max. No one and nothing in this world will keep you from him. It isn't long until his bedroom door broke down. With one last final kick, it crumbles down from its hinges and you forcefully pry it open and sprint inside.

Max tucks himself in the tiny space in the corner of his huge bedroom, his knees shoved up to his chest. A 181-cm tall man trying to make himself as small as possible.

This is it. This is the bottled-up emotions he's been storing since Abu Dhabi. You cannot say you have not anticipated this. Max is bound to explode sooner or later.

Panic attacks have made a home in Max’s body since he was a child. That's what one gets when they’re parented by someone like Jos Verstappen. He killed Max’s soul and made the boy a machine and for what? To shape a child into a man, a racer that he wanted to be but failed to become at the cost of Max's mental health and childhood.

When Max looks up with that heartbreaking look on his face, you almost crumble. Almost, because you cannot crumble. Not when Max needs you.

Sometimes, you forget what it took for Max to become the champion that he is today. A childhood sacrificed for his dominance on the tracks. A whole lot of hatred from the people to become a WDC. And now, a love lost for his third consecutive championship.

“You came,” his voice cracks towards the end.

Your eyes soften, “You called, Max. Course I’ll come.”

You barely brace yourself for the impact that is Max’s body wrapping around yours in a tight hug. The man have literally launch himself from the floor to you at sixth gear speed. You stumble backwards slightly, holding his bed for support so the both of you won't fall down.

“Max—”

“No,” he whispers and his grip on your tightens as if he's afraid that you’ll slip away if he even tried to give your lungs space to breathe. “Don't speak. Stay.”

What Max wanted, what Max would get. So you shut your mouth, shuffle slightly so he'll be in a more comfortable position and allow him take whatever he wants from you. This will be the last chance he’ll ever do it anyway because in four days time, you’re flying to Texas.

You stay for what is probably hours in that position. Crumbled together on the floor, leaning against the side of Max’s king-sized bed. Your shirt is completely damp from his tears but you cannot even bring yourself to care about it.

“Your shoes…” It's the first time Max has spoken since the start of his meltdown.

“Hm?” you turn your head and your nose nuzzles against his hair, making you scrunch it up a little. His hair is tickling your nostrils. If you lean a little forward, your lips will meet the skin of his temple.

“They’re mismatched.”

Brows furrowed, your eyes move to your feet and see that Max is right. Your shoes are indeed mismatched. On your left is one of your Adidas slides and the other is your slip-on Skechers. You ran from one building to another in mismatched shoes. Fucking embarassing.

“Ignore them.”

Silence.

“You good now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” you say. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

You hear Max let out a shaky breath, “Just stay for a while. Don't leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

Eventually, you manage to talk Max out of the hug. You're beginning to feel claustrophobic but you do not want to say it out right so you try to negotiate instead. That's how you and Max found yourselves inside his kitchen again. You're trying to replicate your Abuela's cheesecake, which she was known for back in Austin, and Max is…well, he's Max and he’s trying to be helpful in any way he can. If it's some other day, you'd have shoved him out of the way because you prefer working alone in the kitchen. Having eyes on you gives you anxiety. But given today’s circumstances, you do not have the heart to make Max leave so you task him with doing the little stuff like mixing things and throwing shit to the trash can nearby. And he does so splendidly.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what, baby?” You internally wince at your own slip of the tongue. Damn that habit of yours of calling people with affectionate call signs. Thankfully, Max seems to have not noticed it.

“For coming here.”

You shrug.

“I only did what you did for me in 2021.”

Again, your breakup with Leo was bad bad. You spent a month crying for a love lost and Max was there for you. For the most part, at least. You want him to focus on winning and winning alone that you pushed him away a lot of times but you appreciated how he was more obedient to your commands, that he held his tongue so he wouldn't piss you off even though he was not liking your words, and that he was considerate of you.

“I hope you won't go into fights though,” you chuckle. “Like I did after my breakup.”

He smiles, shaking his head lightly and you know he's recalling the memory. 2021 is a hilarious year for you, the Red Bull manager. You went viral after getting into a cat fight with a girl and a whole fist fight with her boyfriend.

You and Leo called it quits a week before Monaco and even though it had been four races since then, your heart was still in a quite fragile state at that specific race weekend. One minor inconvenience was enough to ignite a wild blaze of fire within you and nobody could extinguish the flames.

After Silverstone FP1, you were leading Max to the cool down room to brief him with Horner’s relayed instructions and someone had thrown a glass bottle towards the both of you while walking. Originally, Max was the main target of the bottle but you happened to have moved towards the line of trajectory and the bottle landed on your temple, hard enough that you stumbled upon impact.

You barely heard Max’s shocked gasp and shout of panic over the sound of glass shattering on your foot because the only thing you could register was the terrifying feeling of a thick liquid trickling down the side of your face and you didn't even need to see it to know it was blood.

The only thing you saw was red and it was on fucking sight.

Fucking Hamilton fan. Fucking Hamilton. He’s in Max’s way. He’s in your way. He’s the wall that was dividing you from your dream position in the engineering team.

You shoved the iPad you were holding to Max’s hands and marched down to the woman wearing the Merc #44 merch, swiftly jumping over the barricade and grabbing her by the collar of her pristine white Versace top.

The events that followed were too fast. You grabbed her collar. She pulled your hair. You also pulled her hair. Someone pulled her away from you. You tried to grab her, clawing her bare arms with your manicured nails. She screamed. You screamed back. You pulled out some curse words in Spanish as well because cursing her in one language alone is not enough. Her boyfriend appeared. A quick punch to your cheek. You fell to the ground.

The world stood still. There was a sting on your palm because your skin got torn from the hard surface of the concrete ground. You let a bloodcurdling war cry and your Dad would definitely be disappointed at you for using the boxing techniques he taught you for self defense purposes only to fight a guy two times your size.

Everything was a bigger blur from there. But you did remember the sensation of Max’s strong arms around you, stopping you from lunging forward again. He was saying sweet words to your ear to calm you down but your brain failed to intercept them so you could hear the words, could hear his voice, but not understand any of it. You remember Christian Horner's disappointed face that haunted you even two years later. You remembered feeling so terrified as you sat outside Christian Horner’s office waiting for the final verdict while he and Max and a few of the Red Bull higher-ups argued about your future with the team. You remembered hearing Max’s loud snarl on the other side of the mahogany door: “Did you see her face?! There was blood everywhere! On her nose, on her mouth, on the fucking side of her head!” You remembered the girl taking the case to court. You remembered fearing that you’d be sent to jail. You remembered that she lost the case because it was ruled as self defense and your injuries were grave. You remembered discovering that it was Max who used all his power and got the best lawyer to fight your case. You remembered the atmosphere in the Red Bull garage shifting when you entered it a few weeks later and everyone stared the bandages and bruises. Everyone thought one thing: of course, it would also take a monster to manage a monster like Max Verstappen. You remembered Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, apologizing personally for the fight caused by his own fan. He didn't need to but he was so sincere with it that you cried when he handed you the apology flowers. God, how could you even hate this man? Your anger towards him was misplaced.

You’d been living with the guilt ever since, that you were horrifyingly violent for a day, that you were capable of killing for a day. And it could happen again. One day. God, you hoped you wouldn't have to see that day. You knew all your coworkers have been careful with angering you ever since. They're terrified of you even. Max should be, too. But then again, why would he when he already saw the horrors done by his father’s hands ever since he was a child? He was used to it.

“I won't,” he says, smiling at you. “I wouldn't want to add anymore problems for you to clean up.”

But you will not be the one cleaning it up because you resigned. You didn’t tell that to him though. Not right now. He just had a meltdown over Kelly leaving him and the news of his manager leaving him too will destroy him.

The cheesecake is a little burnt when you take it out of the oven but it actually adds more flavor to it so yeah, that's a win.

“We should drink,” you suggest.

“It’s mid-afternoon.”

“We drank at mid-afternoon yesterday,” you give him a blank stare. “With Alex and Charles, remember?”

He doesn't say anything as you make your way to his fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Max has champagne stored somewhere but you have enough of those expensive champagnes. You need beer. Beer is good. Beer is nice. You're a beer type of person and it is time Max becomes one, too.

“I’m no scientist,” you begin, biting off the beer’s bottle cap. “But according to chemistry, alcohol is solution.”

Well, technically, edible alcohol or ethanol is not a mixture. Rather, it's a pure substance that happens to be a liquid at room temperature and typical atmospheric pressure. Pure ethanol is not a solution. Hard spirits though? That's a solution.

Beer is not a hard spirit. It's more of a fermented drink. But Max doesn't know that, though, so you don't bother explaining the science behind it.

Somewhere down the road, the two of you move to his living room. You use the Youtube app in his TV to search karaoke video and have the bestest time of your lives. You're screaming along some Daddy Yankee and El Alfa songs and Max doesn't know how to speak Spanish so he’s just vibing to it.

At 5 PM, you pull out Max’s expensive vodka bottle. Now this is the real shit. The ten bottles of beer? Those are just pregame. Max is already drunk with just those because he’s a pussy but you’re no pussy, so the only right answer is vodka! Viva la vodka or whatever.

Your throat gets tired of singing and Max gets tired from dancing, too, so you both decide to just go entertain yourselves in other ways. First, you introduced Max to beer-pong. He loses, of course. He sucks at everything not racing. Then, the two of you move onto chess. Max gives up mid-game. He cannot understand the rules. Then, lastly, you move to the billiard table Max owned. He only used it when the other guys are over and you do not even know why he bought it when he sucked at playing billiards.

“You know what Kelly said the morning before the race?” Max suddenly says and you look up at him, brow raising slightly. He’s drunk; his skin is flushed and he is all giggly and smile-y as he sits on the billiard table’s side rail and using the billiard stick as some sort of support stand to keep him from falling. You hope he won't accidentally poke himself. You're no better, too. Ten beer bottles and a few glasses of vodka. But you’re not as drunk as Max, and you still have a straight vision and you can still sink the colored balls into the pockets of the billiard table.

“Hm?”

“That it was unfair for her.”

You raise a questioning brow, “Why?”

“I bought shoes and they don't fit her.”

You blink. He laughs at himself as if he has uttered the funniest joke in the world.

“Three years of relationship gone because of a single pair of shoes,” he continues. “She wanted those shoes, too.”

Kelly….what the fuck?

“But that's okay. She….She made me open my eyes, you know? She made me realize what I truly love.”

“Racing.” It's not even a question. It's the truth.

Max stares at you, long and hard, and you look away first because you fear that if you allow yourself to stare too long, you’ll drown in those beautiful blues. This is enough heartache for the day. No need to add more.

“Hey [Name],” he begins. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”

#manager!reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #formula one #fanfic #angst #mv1 #mv33 x reader #mv33

[louebel]

Hi! Can I request fluff Law x fem!reader where reader is feels sick but tries to ignore it/do things on her own (she’s not used to ask for help) but as a doctor law easily can tell by the signs and it happens during their sea journey on the polar tang? Hope I’m not asking too much love ya 🥺

Feel free to add angst or anything else to your writing ^•^

this is super old and the only request i'll ever do (atm) since i had a wip— ANON SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER <\3 reader is gn since i used the second person and no description.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: trafalgar law × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 6,124 wc. a bit angsty, ends with fluff, emotional reader for the sickness, law is bad at emotions. this turned longer than expected, i hope it's decent xdd hit me up if there's any mistakes lol. supposed to be called windows of the soul,, divider by @ benkeibear my lord and saviour. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: sickness overtook your body and worsened your already pitiful situation. law has been ignoring you and you have no idea why... but with how you felt, there was no way you could confront him at the moment.

scrub, scrub, scrub... 

"... phew ..." 

scrub... poof! 

"Oh! — damnit — aargh..." 

Cleaning today has been a nightmare. Never been so tedious. 

Like, it was already uninteresting compared to all the other things you could do, but today it was ten times worse. You could bear it, seeking to make dusting shelves fun by humming some random tune to yourself. It was okay, something you had to do every once in a while. You could do it. 

If only you weren't sick. 

"Achoo! Achoo! — urgh... Achooo..! Damn." 

You began feeling like this some days ago, or so you told yourself as you delicately hunched down to the floor, hoping to grasp the yellow sponge soaked in foam and water without experiencing excruciating pain. However, your hopes soon shattered as your back screamed in agony and your legs trembled with soreness, almost giving up on you. 

Just the flu, you insisted, it would go away. A couple of sneezes mean nothing. You would feel better and all would go back to the ordinary. 

... Oh, how wrong you were! And how stupid for not getting a day off. 

You were capable, though! You counted on your immune system (it sounded heroic the first time you thought of that). One night is all you needed. 

Or not. 

"Ow, ow..." 

You should've told your captain. Sure, it would cost your courage, pride, and dignity, but at least you'd be cured. You'd rather die than tell him you got sick because of the one herb he instructed everybody to avoid. 

What's worse is that he's been rather distant, and he's unquestionably avoiding you. The way he shoots daggers — no, whole machetes in your direction every time you do anything, smart or not, is so clear even the crew can see it. And the worst part? You do not know why. 

It had been like this for a while now, and you detested this whole plight with passion. Everything was okay between the two of you, you were sure of it! What did you do that spurred such a reaction? From one so dear to you? 

Those sweet memories... 

From new findings you excitedly presented him, to revealing himself, his past and adventures to you after almost a year of sailing. You knew everything about him. He knew everything about you. 

So why? Why stop so abruptly? You didn't mind when he digressed about his newfound coins. When he murmured under his breath while he pored over medical books or mulled about a particular topic. When he stressed over labor and called for a brief break, where you or the crew would attend to him by delivering him a meal or helping when he wasn’t looking. He's so stubborn.

"Uurgh..." 

From captain, to Law, to captain again. Not to mention how he deftly stopped you from hanging out with him. You thought he needed space at first. Maybe he was tired and had to rest for the next few days. That’s alright. However, your thoughts deteriorated as the days passed. But well, right now it's better if he doesn't see you at all. Nor the crew‌ — oh, the damn crew. Those two.

The "two" being the pair of nitwits that constantly stand by law's side and grin at you. Seriously... 

You do not understand what Penguin and Shachi find so amusing about your situation with him. It's a tragedy, not a comedy. You love them both, truly, the minute you stepped into the polar tang they were the first ones to get you to open up and all, but goodness, you wish you could beat them for sitting there, cackling and clapping their hands while confiding some mysterious comments to each other when la — the captain, showed up in the area and walked past you with an unreadable gaze. He'd constantly salute you and the others with a bow of his head or more, depending on his mood. 

Now? If he saw one inch of your form? 

Sigh. His face always went red. 

Why can't those two just tell you? Even Ikkaku seemed to know something you didn't. She was more subtle about it, though. Jean Bart wasn't slick either. You could see him smile from a mile away. Hakugan and Clione? Shachi and Penguin 2.0, except they hid behind Jean Bart. The rest pitied you instead, sometimes patting your back — sometimes shaking their head almost in disbelief. Oh, and Bepo gave you suspicious smiles! Every time he tried to say something to you, those two animal hat-wearing goblins silenced him. Did they just want you to suffer? 

And if they did want that then their curses were working because even after grabbing the sponge (almost losing your temper as it slipped through your gloved palm twice) and straightening back to an erect pose, your head was still banging with fervor, muscles barely reacting. 

If only you could snuggle with the fluffy, warm mink right now. A bitter sigh rushed past your lips at the thought. 

Those two were just so mean. But Law was much meaner — the captain, the captain... Yes, the captain. That... That dummy. 

You groaned and shook your head while forcing your wobbly arms to scrub the table, exhausted mentally with this never-ending train of thoughts and these fanciful fists leaving invisible bruises all over your poor body. Not to point out those hands pinching your brain like dough... 

Just — you... Goodness, what was it he suddenly despised so much? The submarine felt like home. It was home, especially when he joined you. Now when he does, he — the aura he emanates is intimidating, yet everyone is either unaware of it or not affected by it. 

What made him so resentful? You can barely say anything when he strides into the place, too panicked to learn how he would perceive you or talk to you if you go on. It's like you're back on step one, isolated, too scared to be yourself with your family. Because of one man who's supposed to be the head of it. 

Being you felt like a sin when close to him, as if he preferred the private variant of who you are, and shunned your curious and spirited self. You could understand since he’s rather closed off and well, in a certain aspect you are too, but — did he not like you at all? Was it all an act to not offend you? He didn't seem to dislike your vivid reactions initially, or your foolish gestures when nearing a fresh island. You were often silent, smiling and listening to others converse, but when around your companions, you easily liked to open up since it was the only time you could do so. And they were more than just that. You entrusted all the members of the heart pirates. They meant everything to you. Even him, who stopped including you. 

Ugh... 

You wished it could all go back to normal. 

This disease enjoyed fumbling with your previously scrambled sentiments. Law did mention it brought a high fever and emotional susceptibility. You didn't consider it'd be this severe. 

"... Okay, I'm done." 

You certainly weren't, with your bed unmade and furniture still dusty; floor imploring for a good wash. However, with the croaky voice you had paired with your runny nose, you doubted you could do more. Even if you did, it'd be better not to. 

You peered down at the bucket full of water that probably smelled better than you at the moment, ignoring the small puddle beside it made by your poor handling sponges skills. Grimacing, you decided to leave it where it was in case carrying it back turns out to be a challenge. Hopefully, Ikkaku can provide you help later. 

Looking around, your droopy eyelids dimmed your perspective and further provoked you as both exasperation and exhaustion mixed and boiled in your gut, room so messy it mirrored your current state. You didn't know what was irritating you more: the light of the lamp or the disarray you resided in. 

Howling dejectedly, you turned and plodded to your bed, opening your arms, ready to throw yourself on the mattress. The more you sleep, the sooner you'll get better. Yeah, you're so brilliant. You closed your eyes and — 

knock knock. 

— reopened them a second after, remaining immobile for an extra few before glowering at your door, contemplating whether to go open it or linger to determine if they'd leave. Hmm. 

You waited. 

... knock knock. 

Fantastic.

You gritted your teeth, drawing a profound breath to settle your nerves, haywire thanks to the hellish illness. They didn’t deserve to withstand your rage, but who knows, maybe by seeing your shape, they'll show sympathy and tell you. That could work. 

Okay. 

You sluggishly trudged to the door, not bothering to adjust your unbuttoned pajamas and faking a cheerful facade. You hoped your face didn't look too awful, but you couldn't care less right now. 

Gripping and twisting the knob, you pushed it open, greeting them with the feeblest voice you've ever had, your sore nose making it unthinkable to inhale air. You rubbed the back of your head while doing so, eyelids closed to evade any light. 

"Yo, Penguin, Shachi, how can I—" the words automatically came out of your coarse and blazing throat, opening your eyes a bit to look at... them... 

Then you saw a tattoo. And more tattoos. No white, poofy boiler suits in sight. 

By barely seeing light before, you tried giving yourself mercy, but now you were only slaughtering yourself to make sure the person in front of you was, well. Him. 

Your jaw fell while your brows lifted in consternation, but shortly returned down thanks to your declining headache. Your pupils then scaled the mountain of mass before you and arrived at the peak. Another pair of eyes. 

Cool, gray eyes. The ones that just a week ago welcomed you with compassion and comfort. Now they drive you to wither away from this world. Even if you look up to them. (Hehe, get it? man, you're so silly, wow.) 

"—help … Captain. Uh, hello." and there goes your comfort zone. 

You tried swallowing down air but got pounds of mucus down your stomach instead, curved posture closing up even more in his presence, ashamed to be seen in such a weak state, instantly regretting not managing your appearance as his gaze scrutinized you from top to bottom, probably displeased with how you presented yourself.. 

You looked everywhere but at him. He only looked at you. 

Envy spurted from the plant’s toxins. How could he focus on one thing and have so much confidence to stare at someone without breaking eye contact at all? If you do the same for longer than two seconds, it feels like whoever looked at you has seen your entire personality, life, darkest secrets that you didn't really have, closest people to you — everything in poor words. The windows of your soul, perpetually agape.

How does he keep them closed? Why can't you seal them at all? Why?— 

"—so care to explain the meaning of this?" 

"Huh?" 

You stupidly stared at him, blinking and glancing at his shoulders, then back at him to break whatever spell he put on you, not able to concentrate at all. 

Barely could you see the annoyed expression on his face. You hoped he wasn't dealing with excessive stress. Making him feel worse was not your intention. 

"I said, care to explain what this is? You look... terrible—" you cringed at that, "—and you haven't come out of your room since this morning. Do you have any idea what time it is?" His scrutinizing tone made you want to crawl under your blankets and stay there forever, but his patronizing gaze didn't let you. 

You could merely fidget with your fingers and glance back at the floor to relieve your worries, which mixed with pain, fatigue, and dirtiness. You called for sleep so badly. 

"I'm—I'm sorry, Captain. I, uh, I didn't—" sniff, "—mean to skip my duties. Sorry." 

His brow creased in suspicion at your raspy voice and poor shape. 

"Is that so? Look at me while you say it." if his words weren't menacing enough, his tone was too. He knew you couldn't do that. Especially now. 

"Uh..." you unconvincingly whispered, continuing to play with your fists, until rubbing your nape once more, shuddering at how chilled your hands were compared to it. 

Your actions were, again, spotted by him, and if one more thing occurred, then he'll be correct. 

"Well? I'm waiting." 

"..." 

Sighing exasperated, you raised your head to look into his pupils once again.  

Unbeknownst to you, he already confirmed another of his impressions while taking a further view of your sullen visage. 

"I, uhm, overslept, Captain. That — that happens sometimes, yeah? Sorry about that. I'll—I'll..." stopping for a moment, you squinted your eyes and scrunched your nose while the man before you attentively fixated his stare on your frame and— 

"Achooo!" —covered half of your face whilst he recoiled back at the loud sneeze you let out, not expecting it at all. He blinked, then you sneezed again, and again. Streak of three. 

If your voice and glossy eyes already told everything to the doctor, the continuous sneezes only reinforced his thesis. 

You exhaled haplessly as he sternly said your name. 

"You're sick." his firm and coherent words could not be fooled. Your fate was sealed. 

"...Yeah." at this point, you didn't care. He was gonna scold you, nothing you could do about it. You could only hope he'll do that after you're cured because right now, you could barely stand still without shivering. You were sure if he wanted to do something he would have already, so he definitely will have a talk with you after you're healthy. 

"Why?" you've been proven wrong so many times this morning — afternoon. Evening? That you don't know what's gonna happen next. 

You stared at him numbly, almost done with everything. 

"What do you mean 'why'? I don't, I don't know. Probably our... Ugh, our last stop, isn't that obvious—" 

"Not that. Why didn't you say anything? To the others? To me?" 

If it wasn't for your head beating incessantly and the aching of your tendons ruining everything, you would think this was a dream. 

You kept gawking at him like a goldfish. His timbre wasn't as stern as it regularly was. It was a bit, just a tad bit lower. Like, barely. His eyes were softer, and if you met the man yesterday, you wouldn't be capable of identifying his mood. It's because you knew him for so long that you could distinguish it. 

"I..." you mumbled talks under your breath, awfully feeble to maintain the discussion, barring your eyes and hitching away when Law planted his freezing hand on your forehead. You fussed in protest, although it didn't last long. 

"You're cold... Off." 

"My hands are perfectly fine. You're burning," he interrupted you, stating the obvious. But you were far too deep to listen, fatigued. 

"Yeah... M'sorry." you nodded while deliberately looking down in shame, almost dropping to the ground out of fatigue. Everything seems hazy, the pressure in your skull fading, while the breaths you took were meager. 

Something skimmed over your shoulder and nape — ah, his fingertips — palm carefully tilting your head back up. Your mouth hung open, and you attempted to focus on your captain's facial features and the iconic hat to not fall asleep. 

"It's fine." But his gentle approach and mellow maneuvers set you in a soothing trance, where you couldn't do anything other than auscultate him. 

It’d be an exceptional moment to speak up about these last days, his odd actions. 

"It... It is? You, ah... You're not..." but you struggled to do so, chest too heavy to speak. He narrowed his eyes, striving to make out what you were saying, but it was all incomprehensible to him. 

"I'm not?" he urged you to proceed, getting closer — he felt warm. Wasn't he cold some seconds ago? Ah, he’s draping his coat over your shoulders, so, so cozy, — and holding you as if you were glass. Why was he holding you? It felt nice, undoubtedly nice. Oh, you were going to fall, you think. 

“Hey—hey. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.” 

Cradling you in his arms, Law cursed and crouched down, snaking an arm under your knees and sweeping you up, a short "there" slipping from his tongue, keeping you close to his breast. Naturally, you snuggled close to the source of heat, losing consciousness, unaware of your surroundings, his distress, and jogging to the infirmary. 

“Hey. Keep your eyes open. No, no, open—yes, yes, like that. Good job. A bit more, then you can go to sleep, alright?" 

While nodding lazily when he said your name again, you curled up for more warmth, and he mellowly followed your movement, hefting you up and pressing his lips upon your forehead, his frown deepening at how high the temperature was. He needed to administer medicine quickly. 

"Law …'m sorry if I smell." 

He scoffed. Thinking of such idiotic things was exactly like you, sputtering them out so bluntly. Rolling his eyes was natural at this point. 

"That's my last concern. We'll think of your scent and hygiene later. Don't speak. Shh." 

So stupid, so stupid. He should've confronted you ever since you left the island. He should've. It's been a recurring pattern these days. He couldn't see you because of his work but spoke with the others at breakfast, lunch, dinner... They all grew concerned about your distance. Uni shared that it began right after the departing... He knew something wasn't right with you, he could feel it.

Back in that inhabited location, he quickly took note of your drooping posture and fatigued breathing. He wanted to ask about it, but the following days, you acted normal, and Law thought you were queasy because of the heat.

Then he got busy checking on the crew's documents, medicine supply, the damn broken scope Hakugan sadly reported, bounties, news — and something else. He managed to give a check-up to everyone but you. It was mandatory after leaving an island.

With you evading him and him doing the same, this happened. Great. He could only hope it wasn't contagious.

... Wait.

He gritted his teeth in sour realization — Not once has he seen you in the halls or dining hall. No one mentioned you, either. Have you eaten anything at all? Oh, you imbecile.

He palmed your skin through your suit, easing your laments and whimpers, walking through the hallways of the Polar Tang and reaching the infirmary. Kicking the door open while lulling you a bit, shushing and fluttering his eyelids at your sick and quaking form. 

"There we go. Shh, I know, I know, it's awful." 

Uplifting the blankets, he quickly covered you and began searching for his equipment, rustling and metal clicks tangling with your whines. 

"U- uuh... W- where..?" 

"I'll be there in a second. I'm here." 

As he said that, he quickly came back to you, already stirring medicine in a cup. He had to give to you before you blacked out or fell asleep. Sliding a hand under your back, he carefully pushed you up, gaining a groan from you; you sounded so tired. Tipping your head forward, he brought the rim of the cup to your lips. You were delirious, could barely see or feel, but managed to follow his direct instruction to "open". The first glass was tasteless, fresh... water. 

The second tasted awful. 

"E—eugh..." 

"A couple more sips and we're done. Come on, you're doing good." 

Once you drank it all, with a small praise from Law, he gently laid you back down, about to check your vitals. He knew you were in no condition to do as he instructed, it would be all him. Idiot, idiot... 

Just looking at you made him guilty. He never saw you this awful. However, what truly pushed him were your next phrases. 

“Do you feel better now..?” 

Low and dry, they all were. He halted his movements, his hands in the bag, shifting his attention to you. 

Your question puzzled him. 

Feel better? Him? He was fine. Perhaps you thought the disease was contagious? No; you would've phrased that diversely. His forehead creased, slightly tilted to the side. 

"What?" 

“I … I missed you." 

And as clear drops cascaded down your cheeks, his limbs froze, a bittersweet ache striking his chest. 

"I—I thought I did something wrong … I’m sorry … Should've told you. 'M sorry ... really...” 

Shit. 

“No, no, don’t be. It’s alright, don't—don't speak. You did nothing. Shh...” 

And if you stayed conscious for some more seconds, you could've seen those severe pupils mitigate. The windows of his soul open up; the "stern" gaze he preserved for you withering in an instant at your vulnerability. 

All he wanted to do was clear that up. When, now..? 

“I—I’m the one that should’ve apologized, damn it…” 

"Aargh..." 

Warm. 

"Mmh..." 

It was very warm. Pleasant. 

"Hn..." 

The boilersuit felt different. Heavier, and not … poofy. Hm. 

The pillow was so nice, though... 

You sought a better position under the comforting and amiable regime of your blanket, squinting your glistening eyes as if sand had struck them; eyebrows knitting in distaste and discomfort, choler cramming up your insides — but not for long, extremely achy and sleepy to lament. 

Shouldn't it be easier to relax now that you are tired? Shifting left and right left your muscles throbbing. The peace you could achieve in your dreams was all you begged for. But no, you just had to rise two more times in the span of minutes or hours. 

When you woke up the third time, someone surprised you. He was perching on a chair near the infirmary's bed, head, presumably about to doze off. An encyclopedia of vegetation and exotic environs sat in his palms and dotted jeans, the cover made of green-coloured leather, firm to the touch. 

He looked peaceful. 

"... Law?" 

Your lashes fluttered at the fierce shudder that rocked his frame, the textbook about to fall, his eyes snapping open and rapidly darting up to you. 

"Oh. You woke up. Good. Good evening." 

You were mad at him. You were mad at him. 

His lips were indubitably moving. Whatever he was saying, you were not listening. Something about being out for hours, but you were too out of it to pay attention. 

And looking down at your body, your eyeballs almost popped out of your sockets at the sight of... Not your boilersuit. 

"I'm in my pajamas?" 

"And — hm? Oh. I changed you." Pause. "With my devil fruit, of course. Obviously. You were way too hot in it." 

"..." 

"..." 

Pause number two. 

"I'm hot?" You bluntly said,

"Not in that way." And he quickly retorted, bashful. You immediately got gloomy.

"Oh..." You and Bepo were alike. He couldn’t help but sweatdrop.

"No, no, no, don't — you look fine. That's not what I meant." 

A hoarse chuckle ripped from your sensible larynx, a noise that he hadn't heard in a while. His back loosened at your jovial note, the pressure applied on the envelope of the manual lessening. 

There was a superb illustration of the flora you accidentally whiffed. 

"You inhaled it, didn't you?" 

... Silence followed. Then a sigh.

"A simple allergy with a sore throat and emotional instability in the first phase caused by the pollen, weakened muscles and headache in the second, and heightened senses, nausea, and worsening of the body in the last one. You felt them all." 

Quick and precise, each symptom he mentioned appeared throughout the weeks you boarded on the Polar Tang. He hit the mark. Glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, you nodded sheepishly, feeling hot in your cheeks. 

"Y—Yeah." 

"I thought I mentioned dodging those peculiar red flowers. I don't expect you to recall the name, but to avoid it. Thankfully, you only inhaled its pollen, or else you would've been in this bed the moment we departed." 

"O—oh... That bad?" 

"No, not really. The symptoms would've developed quicker, but nothing dangerous. Perhaps you would have slept over two days, as all cases do when encountering this allergy," He narrows his eyes at you, shutting the book and crossing his long legs, his foot jouncing. "Not at all fatal, only worrying when the patient in question mentions nothing about the symptoms and overworks themselves.” 

“Hey—” 

“You're fine." 

A small huff left your lips, nodding lazily. Nothing was uttered after from both sides. Occasional groans from yours. Only then he spoke. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"..." The answer was simple. He immediately found the illness yet couldn't pinpoint the cause of this? It was almost ironic. Your quietude wasn't taken well. 

"Well?" 

"... You ignored me. You made it clear." 

And he was faking ignorance. That glance, his attitude. You knew him too well, but had no energy to call him out. 

"I—I didn't." 

"Don't play coy, Law. Did I do something? Even the others know. Penguin and Shachi told me. I—" 

You paused when he raised his hand, glancing at it in confusion, then back at him, twice or more. He sighed and dropped it back on his thigh again, using his other one to rub his temple in distress. 

"You did nothing. I don't know what... Shachi and Penguin said," You tilted your head at his peculiar manner of quoting them. "But I've got nothing against you." 

He stopped rubbing and lifted his head to check on you again and you were unsure of what to say. His brows wrinkled the tender skin of his forehead, severity, and minor unease painting every fiber of his appearance. 

You just... didn't know. 

"Really? Then why those weird stares? Why leave the room the moment I come in? I mean." you flailed your hands around, looking everywhere as if you could find an explanation. "You never behaved this way, Law, not with anyone. I... It was fine before, right? Let me ask again, did I do something wrong?" 

"Of course not!" 

At his hasty exclamation, you blinked, uncertain why he became as rigid as stone. Palms back on the blanket, you awaited an elaboration of his thoughts, observing his adumbral face to detect any key to figure out what caused him to alter his ways with you. However, his hat, which you've always appreciated for its fluffiness, turned out to be an issue. Those eyes you've grown so fond of refused to meet yours. 

You just couldn't get it. The surrounding air grew an intoxicating no romance book would mention, one that did the contrary of setting your heart aflame, that poor muscle of yours. 

If he explained, it would've been easier. 

"Okay, 'of course not' ... Sure—" 

"We are not having this conversation. You need rest." 

He briskly cut you off, and your heart felt constricted. The words felt bitter upon both of your tongues, so bitter and revolting, they made his jaw clench and your eyes water. You weren't having it. Absolutely not. 

"I feel better now, thank you, and I say we're having this right here." You pushed, ignoring how he clenched his tattooed fist.

"No—" 

"Yes, Law! I don't know what I did, but if it bothers you, shouldn’t you tell me? There are things we can all miss." 

The pang in your brain was still active, and you had no patience nor strength to argue. Either he spoke up or you'd go straight to sleep. 

"I... You did nothing that bothers me." 

His speech was almost a whisper, a low rumble, and were you in your regular state, you'd feel sad to see him like this. Law had no trouble speaking up— perhaps with apologies, or admitting to be wrong when in the midst of a conversation. Maybe something genuinely bothered him. But he'd tell you, wouldn't he? He had to.

But you weren't the only one who had to consider the consequences. He also had to do his part. 

"... And?" you encouraged him, to gain something, something that would lead you both to that damned thing you were both chasing, that ounce of understanding. 

“And—and what?" alas, it served another wave of blistering dissatisfaction down upon the membranes of your boiling stomach. 

He couldn't be serious. 

"... Whatever. I'm going to sleep." 

"What?" 

You detested how you were feeling, a volcano of passions, the pounding in your skull, and the heat, and the ludicrous, nagging insecurity, all these wretched, gristly sensations shoved in your mouth and scraping your gullet, such a relucting and squalid dish, contaminating your palate and inflaming the gums of your teeth. 

But all Law could see was how your eyes moistened and reddened, the crinkles at the corners of your mouth, the contracted tissues above your nose. 

You couldn't feel how his heart plummeted, either. Again, he caused you to cry. 

"Hey... I—" 

"No, Law, no! I said leave! You ignored me for almost two weeks and now—now you're just..!" 

Perhaps you were being a bit too "dramatic" for something you could solve with a modest exchange, something that, compared to all the obstacles you and Law went through, was a sheer grain of dust in your shoes. Yet you erupted for the frustration, the plant's effects and that nameless thing you'll bring in your grave, for if he knew, he'd probably pity you. 

Maybe, just maybe, he should've kept ignoring you. If solely to dim that warmth. The glow in your eyes that only sparked with him. 

"I don't mind if you need time. I don't mind if you're busy or whatever, that's obviously fine! But can't you tell me? Is it that hard? Instead of treating me like a stranger? Just—just, just leave..." 

Your snotty voice seemed ridiculous, resounding through the infirmary alongside your sobs and sniffles. Vision tarnished by your tears, staring at the ceiling with resignation. It alarmed Law, whose emotions were already scattered; unnerved, anxious. 

He couldn't take seeing you like this. He couldn't. 

"That’s not it! I... I just — I..!" His broken explanations fell as your cries didn't stop; spasms traveling through your frazzled nerves. He swore under his breath, getting up and coming to you, standing close but so, so distant. His fingers jerked, impatient to wipe your tears, to calm you down, to assure you everything was alright, and this was all on him. 

"What..?" you meekly whimpered, gazing at him as he appeared in your sight. 

"I, I..!" if only he could express himself. You'd figure out. If only he could, without buckling and tearing apart at the weight of his own feelings. 

"... You what, Law?" 

It was tough to see with all those tears coating your scleras, but... His lips quivered. His jaw tensed. 

His hands craved yours. 

"I like—I like you!" 

... You wondered if illusions were part of the symptoms. Your eyelids were all but relaxed. Popeyed. 

"There. I said it. I mean it. Seriously. I—I think I love you." 

You could feel his frantic grip, slightly pulling the blankets in his direction, tense as him. You've never seen Law so … jittery with you. Perhaps when he slowly spoke of his past, or when his plan failed. 

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I... I was confused. I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't... No, okay. I, I love you, but you don't have to reciprocate, really. ‌I just wanted to clarify that I wasn't—" 

This was different, however. Not the same vulnerability, nor agitation. That teetering edge coating his sayings, not at all close to those instances. 

"... Law." 

"—ignoring you, I mean, I was, but I just couldn't face you, you know? I didn't know how to act—" 

That glow, those feelings. The twinkle in his eyes Bepo mentioned when you spoke of something that fascinated you, that rare grin on his lips, and that sweetness, the swelling in his chest, and the red, and the breath of fresh air, and the intoxicating romance books loved to talk about... 

Those tints blooming in his cheeks. The faint relaxation of his defined brows. How he covered his pretty, vulnerable self. 

He's no different from you. Oh, oho ho, no, he wasn’t. Only now did you realize. 

"Law." 

"—but I missed you so much, I missed your presence, being with you, I—" 

Your heartbeats matched. 

"Law!" 

You understand now. The definitive yell induced him to quit his blabbering, and eventually, he found your gaze. Those windows were not locked at all. Not marginally, not halfway. They were fully open. You could see him. 

"It's... the same." 

It was all you could utter. His jaw loosened, and you could recognize his wide, stormy irises. 

"Huh? Wh — what?" 

"I feel the same way, Law. I—I love you too." 

Yours were open, too. They always were- yet he never acknowledged what dwelled inside. Two fools you both were. 

"... Oh..." and a breathless whisper was all he could offer. 

The silence dissipated. A delightful warmth occupied your rib cage. The pressure was gone. 

All is back to normal. 

"If... If you weren't sick. I'd kiss you." He mumbled, and his lips looked more luscious than ever. He shouldn't have said that. Now it was even harder. 

"P—pfft... Of course, of course. Can you come closer, at least?" you pouted, giving him the best puppy eyes you could muster. “Pretty please?”

"... Fine. It's — not contagious, anyway," he huffed, his cheeks a light pink, and he sat on the margin of the infirmary's bed, hustling just a tad bit closer... 

Closer... 

"Closer?" 

"Alright." 

His ears grew pink at your giggles. Your fingers graced each other, "DEATH" entwined with you. His hands were lukewarm. Long, slim, calloused in some places, but also tender to the contact. His metacarpals were partially discernible, defining the shadows. He took care of his nails, ensuring they were cut short, although they appeared slightly, just somewhat lengthier than usual. Not considerably, however; they were still short. 

How you missed holding it. 

"Sorry, by the way. About everything." Squeezing his hand, you attempted to show him what it meant to you. He squeezed it back, brushing the top of your hand with his thumb, a pensive and solemn look on his face. 

"No- I should apologize for not saying anything sooner. I neglected and avoided you. I … I don’t know what to do. You know I’m not the type for relationships.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement, but weren't as worried as Law. You'll wait. Nothing would change. 

“Mmm. I can wait for you, Law.” Saying it seemed to take him off guard, as if he hadn't thought about it. Or, rather, didn't expect you to propose it. In his head, it seemed silly because it's him. If you were to ask in his place, he'd also wait. 

He felt lighter. 

“… Truly?” 

“Yeah. We can figure it out together. Like we always did. I’ve loved you for years." He inhaled deeply, your words buttery and sweet. "I’m fine with waiting longer.” 

Thinking you wouldn't accept, if he asked, was stupid of him too. Of course you would. Of course. With another squeeze, he nodded, and turned his head away from you a bit. 

His eyes glistened. 

“I’d like that. Thank you.” 

You smiled, too, saying nothing in return. 

He can take all the time he needs. 

After some days, everything went back to the typical routine. The first thing you did was knock Shachi and Penguin's heads, (supported by Ikkaku) and since Hakugan and Clione were on duty, you couldn't do the same for them. 

You puffed your cheeks and enjoyed chewing the well-earned treat you snagged from the kitchen, reorganizing boxes since this morning. 

"Tired?" 

Peeking at the door, a smile adorned your mouth at the sight of your captain leaning on it. 

"Mm, there were a lot of them." 

"You could've asked for help. You know I don't want any of you to strain yourselves with tasks." 

"I had it. Don't worry. Although..." another bite. "I miss it." 

"Hm?" he crooned, tipping his head forward. "Miss what?" 

You gazed into his eyes, "Miss getting pampered by you when I was sick." lovingly observing how they enlarged a bit before returning to the stoic stare he always wore, swaying his head to dismiss your remarks. The chambré tint on his cheeks was as clear as day, like his light smile. Not that you'd tell him, he'd immediately disregard it. 

"... Meet me at my office once you're done." 

As he turned his back to you, his boots making clicky rumors with each step, your smirk amplified... After all, who could wait to get coddled by none other than their favorite captain?

#law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x you

[ghostssweetgirl]

hello luv how are you doing? I’ll let you know u’r curring my depression. Could you please write an angsty pov with simon riley where he finds a fem reader on the old russian base on his mission??? so he sees her russian uniform and aimes his weapon on her but hesitates once he sees she’s unarmed combat medic?? and she kinda hides there in the from her comrades cuz they claimed her a traitor for saving an “enemy” soldier’s life?

if that’s too much and definitely not what you wanna write it’s totally okay. sorry. and thank u again hope u have a good day!!

omg hi anon! i'm doing good, but i hope you are doing even better! <3 yeah, i can do that for you :) hope this is okay for you!

cw: angst(ish), cursing, idk if i missed any let me know

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Combat Medic Reader

Simon was currently securing some intel from an enemy base, exploring what he thought was empty, abandoned. Just before he was about to leave and call it clear, he felt the need to check the only quarters with a closed door.

As he walked in, he instantly raised his gun. He didn't get a good look at first, just noticing her Russian uniform, but his finger let off the trigger when he saw her - froze, hands up, unarmed.

She was clearly beat up, bruises scattered amongst her arms, a neat gash on the side of her head. Messy, matted hair. Could tell you were exhausted.

"I'm sorry! Please! Please don't kill me," you begged.

"What are you doin'... here?" Ghost asked.

You swallowed as you tried to find your words, unsure if he'd believe you.

"Come on, spit it out."

"I am hiding here... from my comrades..." you started. "They call me a traitor."

"Traitor? Why?"

"I saved an enemy's life... They were unarmed, in so much pain," you sniffed, lips quivering as you cried. "They said... they said-"

"Shh, quiet down, now," he rasped. He didn't really know what to think. On one hand, he thought it was brave, heroic of you. It's your job. On the other, he didn't want to risk getting involved with a possible dangerous situation.

"Are they lookin' for you?"

"Yes... I know I need to get out of here but," you shrugged. "I don't know... They could kill me."

"None of that, now," he whispered. "Let's get you out of here first. I'll get you some place safe."

--

He led you back to a safe area, and helped you get into the passenger side of the truck. He hopped in the passenger seat, quietly sitting there as he took out his phone, sending a few texts.

"Suppose you could come with me," he spoke. "But, you can't wear... that. And don't go snoopin' around... or do anythin' to get yourself killed."

You nodded your head understandingly. "Yes, sir. Thank you... thank you."

He got out a few spare pairs of cargo pants and some shirts, tossing them down in the middle seat. "I'll stop somewhere soon. Let you change and... get yourself cleaned up."

--

You were beyond thankful he was helping you. Maybe this was your chance to start over, fully get away from your old comrades, from the military.

You feel cleaner than before, able to make yourself decent at a truck stop and get into a... clean enough pair of clothes.

--

Just as you expected, coming onto this new base, you were questioned by everybody. They had to make sure you weren't putting up an act, but they soon halfway trusted your sincereness.

You were shown to a spare room, and instantly plopped into the bed. Needing the rest as you now felt somewhat safe. It was very much awkward, so you didn't want to leave your room, but you were so hungry you had no choice.

It was late at night at this point, a little bit past 1200. Figuring everyone was asleep, you walked into the shared kitchen to find some grub only to be startled by the large presence before you, the man who saved you, a little bit dressed down than how you met him before.

"Hungry?" he asked. "Food in the fridge."

"Thank you..." you spoke quietly. "Hey... what's your name?"

He just looked at you before he answered. "Ghost."

"Thank you, Ghost..." you weakly smiled. "For saving me."

He hummed as he nodded.

"You didn't have to-"

"I know."

"I-I'm Y/N. Nice to... meet you," you chirped as you opened the fridge, picking up a container of leftovers that seemed decent enough to eat.

"Yeah. Well, have a good night," he walked away from you, not looking back as you watched his tall figure disappear into the darkness of the hallway.

--

A/N - I liked this idea a lot, I just hope I wrote it okay lol.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #cod mwii #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod mwii #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #cod mw #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley angst #simon riley angst

[holdmytesseract]

Could you please do tom x reader where they are friends to lovers? Maybe the pretend boyfriend that turns real? Smutty and fluffy?

Hide & Seek

Tom Hiddleston x fem!Reader

Summary: Tom asks you to accompany him to Ben's birthday party. On the way there, you get stuck in traffic. A misunderstanding reveals long harboured feelings and things come how they had to come...

Warnings: mutual pining, thirst, fluff, jelousy? a misunderstanding, smuttish/suggestive stuff

Word Count: 3,1k

a/n: You guys wanted it and I am a woman of my words, so... Here it is! 🫡

I hope you like what I wrote for you @huntress-artemiss . 🥰 And I hope that everybody else enjoys it of course, too!

Tags: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @smolvenger @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @evelyn-kingsley @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @lokiforever @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @crimson25 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @coldnique

Masterlist °☆• Hiddles Masterlist

You heard the familiar 'ding' sound of your phone; announcing the arrival of a new message. With a hairpin pinned between your teeth and one hand in your hair, you quickly scooted over to your little make-up table, on which you had left your phone. Tapping on the screen, you immediately saw the message popping up.

'I'm here, darling. Are you ready? x'

You smiled, fixated your hair and quickly unlocked your phone; texting back.

'Almost. :) Gimme five mins, Tommy. x'

Not wasting any time, you applied some decent make-up, gave yourself a once over in the full-length mirror, grabbed the things you'd need and made your way towards the main door of your small, cosy house.

You had promised Tom - your best friend since you were teenagers, to accompany him to the birthday party of Ben. He didn't want to go alone - and you couldn't say no, of course. You never could say no when it came to Tom. Never. You'd anything for him. He was one of the most important people in your life. He was your sunshine on a rainy day. Your lighthouse in the raging storms. A safe haven to which you could always return.

A lot of people told you that this friendship wasn't going to last. After all, Tom was an actor. A famous actor. And you were just... you. But you proved them all wrong. The friendship lasted; survived every sharp turn, bump and crash on the way. A deep bond was formed; stronger than everything you ever experienced - and yet you were just best friends. Sure there had been opportunities to take this friendship to another level and turn it into something more, but neither of you took the opportunity.

You couldn't deny, though, that you had developed strong feelings for the handsome Brit over the years. Romantic feelings. How could somebody not fall for a man like Tom? He was a charming, kind, funny, talented, handsome gentleman with a heart of pure gold. You didn't dare to confess your feelings, because you didn't want to lose your best friend. Better have him as a best friend in your life than not at all, right?

So, the years flew by. Boyfriends came and boyfriends went. Just like with Tom. It was a heart wrenching pain whenever you met Tom's new girlfriend - and you hated it, but what were you supposed to do? All you wanted for him was happiness; but neither of you seemed to find happiness - at least when it came down to romantic relationships...

Another 'ding' of your mobile ripped you out of your thoughts. Shaking your head softly and trying to focus again; you opened the door and stepped out - only to almost stumble back inside.

A soft, cool breeze brushed past you; swirling your beige dress around your knees. The smell of rain hit your nose and some dark clouds hung in the sky; shielded the sun from shining down on you.

That wasn't what took your breath away, though. It was Tom, who stood not far away from you. Just a few meters; legs crossed, leaning casually against his black Jaguar with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his suit trousers.

Speaking of trousers... He was wearing a dark blue suit. Black dress shoes shone against the wet pavement; suit trousers hugging his long legs and hips snugly - held together by a black leather belt. The matching dark blue shirt wasn't any less tight; tailored perfectly for his lean yet strong upper body and forcing the small buttons to hold on for dear life. A tie and suit jacket in the exact same colour completed his look.

You swallowed a thick lump; had a hard time to control yourself and the rapidly beating heart within your chest. Luckily, Tom wasn't looking your way and didn't notice your distress. His gaze was directed to the street as he watched the cars drive by. The position showed off his ridiculously beautiful face; sharp jawline, high cheekbones - peppered with soft and fuzzy looking facial hair of his three-day beard. Tom's wild, blonde-brown curls had gotten so long; a hairsbreadth away from touching his broad shoulders. He looked like a prince, straight out of a fairytale book; combined with the perfect image of a photo shoot.

You bit your lip painfully hard; trying desperately to suppress the moan which threatened to slip past your lips.

It was insanely hot - and Tom didn't even notice the impact this had on you.

"Hey, Tommy," you finally greeted him; attracting his attention. Sure, you could've stared longer and admire the fine man he was, but you didn't want him to accidentally look and notice...

His head whipped around towards you; baby blues meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Hello, darling." A smile spread across his face, as he made his way over to you; giving you a hug. The hugs he gave his other friends didn't last quite as long as the hugs he gave you... You just didn't notice.

"Are you ready?" You nodded; smiling. "I was born ready. You should know that by now." You loved to tease him from time to time. Tom just chuckled; shaking his head. "I won't start now to recount the times you weren't ready. Let's go." You just giggled and followed your best friend to the car.

Being the gentleman the Brit was, he held the door open for you to sit inside his Jaguar. Once you were both seated, Tom started the engine and drove off towards the party.

Unfortunately, was the traffic on this fine Friday evening very bad; causing the both of you to get stuck. Like... Really stuck. Everything stood still. The little highway you were driving on was closed.

"Ugh, great... Now we'll be surely late to the party..." Tom gave you an apologetic look. "Apologies, Y/N/N... I should've taken the other route when I had the chance. Now it's too late... Can you text Ben?" He asked you, handing you his phone; gaze fixated on the cars in front of him. You shook your head, "No need to apologise, Tommy. You couldn't know. But yeah, I'm gonna text him." and unlocked Tom's phone as if it was your own. Not that you knew each other's password by heart... "Thank you, darling."

You tapped on WhatsApp, searched Ben's contact and entered the chat. Of course you tried hard to not read the last messages he received and sent to give your best friend some privacy, but when your eyes caught a glimpse of a text just above the text box you were writing your text in, you couldn't help but to look. You knew it was wrong, but before you were able to stop yourself, it was already too late and your gaze wandered...

Ben: So... You're gonna take her finally home then, right??

Tom: What, I- Ben stop that. I... I can't just do that. I don't think she'd want that... Me...

Ben: Friend... Are you kidding me? It's obvious she wants you.

Tom: You, uh, think so?

Ben: Know so. Shoot your shot, man, before it's too late...

You didn't have to read more. Swallowing hard, you stared at the messages for a moment. You knew exactly who Tom and Ben were obviously talking about... Chloe. A woman Tom had met on set a few months back. She was - well, is one of the costume designers and therefore saw Tom quite often. Someday, they started to talk during a break and well... According to Tom the sparks had been flying. He had told his best friend everything, of course - while you wished he hadn't. You tried to be happy for him - like you always did when he met a new woman, but... As much as you tried, your head never could win the battle against your heart. It was an undefeatable opponent. A invulnerable fortress.

You never met Chloe - and yet you despised her wholeheartedly. It wasn't fair, of course, but love had turned you into a monster.

"Y/N? Hey, Y/N/N."

You flinched and snapped out of your thoughts as Tom's soft velvet voice urged to your ears. "Is everything alright?" You blinked, nodded, "Yeah, sure. Sorry, I, uh, just drifted off." and sent the text. Giving him a fake smile, you exited the app and handed him his phone back. "Are you sure?" "Yep. Everything's good, Tommy."

You hated to lie to him, but you couldn't just tell him the truth now, could you?

'Hey, Tommy, I'm sorry but I spied on your texts and saw that one message, saying that you are going to obviously shag that bitch Chloe and now I'm kinda jealous, because it should be me instead!'

Nope, certainly not. But you also couldn't shake that thought of. It occupied you. A lot. Your brain thought about it non-stop; causing your heart to crack and shatter even more with every passing minute. You could not stand the thought of another woman in Tom's life. In his home. His bed. His heart.

You tried your best to put on a brave face, but your best friend wasn't blind. Neither stupid. He knew you better than you probably knew yourself...

At first the Brit didn't say anything. Given the fact that you clearly told and signalled him that you didn't wish to talk. But at some point, an undeniable, unpleasant tension started to built up between you both. Almost like an imaginary wall... It felt like every untold word, every unspoken feeling had pent up over the last weeks, months - years and were now about to culminate in the middle of an upcoming rain storm. Right here, right now; while being stuck in traffic.

Tom just couldn't take it any longer. He needed to know what had turned everything upside down all of a sudden. Why everything felt so wrong at this very moment.

"Y/N?" He asked you carefully once again. "I know you said everything is okay - and I feel that you clearly don't wish to speak to me, but-" "No, really, Tom. It's all good," you interrupted him once more; giving him another fake smile - and you could tell at the look of his face, that he had seen immediately through that fake smile. But before he was able to say something, you intervened; only digging the gaping hole in your heart deeper.

"Did you go on a date with Chloe?"

Tom frowned; was clearly confused of the sudden change of topic. "Y-Yes, but-" "Great. How did it go?" "Um, great, I-I guess, but why are you-" "Good. That's good. I'm happy for you Tom." You swallowed hard; feeling your heart scream in pain - but no matter how hard it hurt you, you just had to know what happened between them. You wanted to spare yourself the double gut punch. Might as well feel all the pain at once.

"But, Y/N... Why-" You chose not to leave him any space to question you and just get over with it. "Did you kiss her?" "W-What?" "Touch her?" "T-Touch her? Why would I-" "Sleep with her?" "I-" "Was she at least good in bed?" You kept on bombarding your best friend with questions. "Y/N-" "Was she, huh?" "Y/N, I-" "Did she made you cu-"

"Y/N!"

Tom suddenly exploded; screamed out your name and slamming his hands on the steering wheel of the Jag. He clearly had heard enough; couldn't listen to this any longer.

You went silent; didn't even dare to breathe for a second.

"I didn't sleep with her! I didn't touch her! Goddammit, I didn't even kiss her! Nothing happened between us! Nothing!" The Brit took a deep breath; trying to calm himself down again. You just stared at him; mouth closed shut.

"Yes, we met. Yes, it was great. But I wouldn't even call it a date. We talked and drank a glass of wine. Nothing more." You swallowed hard. "B-But, I-I thought you and Chloe were-" "A thing? No. We're not, Y/N." You blinked; were quite stunned at the sudden turnout of this situation - and once more was your mouth quicker to speak than your brain was able to think and so it came how it had to come...

"About who did you and Ben talk about then in your chat, if not Chloe?"

It slipped past your lips - and you immediately regretted it; afraid of Tom's reaction.

Tom's eyes widened to the size of plates; hands twitching to grip the steering wheel tight, while his cheeks turned beet red. The Brit had not thought about this conversation he had with his his friend - and now you knew.

"Shit, Tom, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to spy on your chats, I-I just saw it a-and was wondering about who-"

"You."

You blinked once more. "W-What?"

Tom turned to face you again; oceanic blue eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones.

Now or never, Tom thought.

"You, Y/N. We were talking about you."

You could've sworn that your heart skipped more than just one beat at his words. "M-Me?" You squeaked out; pointing at yourself. "Me?" "Yes. You. And the party today." Your eyes widened; jaw slacking in disbelief. "Y-You wanted to... Me?" Tom nodded; smiling nervously. "I always just wanted you, darling. No other woman on this earth is able to compare to you. My heart fell for you a long time ago. It belongs to you. Always has. Always will. I was just too afraid to tell-" Before he was able to finish his sentence, you had pulled him closer by the lapels of his stupidly sexy suit jacket and literally slammed your lips on his.

Tom was definitely shocked and overwhelmed at first, but he immediately relaxed; sighed in the kiss and pulled you as close as somehow possible with the car interior being quite a bit in the way.

All suppressed feelings and emotions finally broke free and melted into that very kiss. It felt like getting hit by an 18-wheeler truck and floating through heaven at the same time. It was a beautiful, chaotic mess, which the both of you enjoyed every second of - and tempted you to indulge into kiss after kiss after kiss.

You felt how your heartbeat quickened at the feeling of love and desire for the man beside you, as they were finally able to flood your body; veins pulsating with a dangerous mixture of endorphins and oxytocin - and Tom's musky smell, combined with the fruity blood orange and leather touch of his perfume didn't help at all. It made everything worse, without a doubt. Resisting Tom had been always difficult - but now that the chains were broken, it was impossible. And why should you stop yourself? There was no holding back anymore. The cards laid on the table.

You pushed Tom back into the driver seat; catching him by surprise. Your hand started to play with his tie; quickly undoing it. Tom's eyes watched your fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt; steadily wandering lower as he was swallowing hard. "Darling, w-what... what are you- Woah!" Tom had clearly anticipated that your hand would land at a place where he had often imagined it to be late at night, when he was all alone at home. But it didn't. You gave his belt a soft tug, but then moved your hand over his thigh and down to where the lever was, which allowed his seat to slide back; bringing even more space between him and the steering wheel.

Another thing the Brit hadn't seen coming - just like the next move you made.

Within the blink of an eye, you had slipped out of your high heels and elegantly swung yourself over; sitting on your former best friend's lap. It caused your dress to ride up your thighs - and Tom's eyes to widen. He literally froze in place; realising in which position you just brought yourself and him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, tugging at his suit jacket; trying to get him to shrug it off - what he did. "Y/N, w-what are you doing?" Tom knew of course very well what you were doing, but he needed to hear it. "What does it look like? I'm, uh, saving the car and riding you instead."

Tom's eyes almost popped out of his head at your bold words. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that it stirred something deep inside him. And his dress pants.

"Darling, I-I don't know if we should do this here, I-" You raised a playful eyebrow at him.

"Oh, Tommy please... Don't be so shy now. You can't tell me that you never imagined doing this..." You leaned in closer; whispering into his ear: "Me. On top of you." The Brit couldn't help the moan which slipped past his lips. "I-I did, I-," he panted out; feeling one of your hands opening his belt; metal clinking. "See? Besides, the windows are tinted. Nobody's going to see this. Plus, we are stuck anyway, so... What are you waiting for?" You asked in a hushed voice; tracing your lips down his pulse point. "Touch me."

Another breathy moan escaped Tom's lips; big hands flying up to grab your bare thighs and working on slipping your dress even higher up your hips. His warm, slightly sweaty palms sent a shiver down your spine; nerve ends sizzling with desire.

"I-I've wanted this for so long, now, darling." Tom whispered; pressing his forehead against yours. "And now that I can finally have it - you... It's so surreal and- Oh fuck..." Tom's hands started to tremble; eyebrows slanting and mouth forming into a perfect 'o' as you lowered yourself on him. Only your lips messily entangling themselves with his seemed to bring him out of his haze.

"I love you, Tommy. I love you. I always have," you whimpered; body jolting with love and pleasure. His soft beard scratched the skin of your cheek, as he buried his head in the crook of your neck; lips marking you as his.

"I love you, too, darling. With all my heart. I'm yours." He lifted his head once more; glassy blue eyes gazing deeply into your soul. "Now let me love you. Let me make love to you." You smiled deliriously and raked your fingers through his long, blonde-brown curls. "I beg you to, Tommy."

And when he started to move, the world around you faded. All you could think and feel was Tom.

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston au #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader smut #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fic

[myfandomprompts]

Dubious Headlines | Aemond Short Story (Part 1/3)

Aemond x Reader Modern!AU Masterlist

Synopsis: In a world where Dragon Incorporation is the most powerful firm in town, Rhaenyra Targaryen's last announcement sends you, a journalist, to interview the younger sons of the family. However, you did not ask for any of this.

Viserys Targaryen was sick, and had for many years bequeathed all of his shares in the care of his children. But everybody knew that the Targaryen was a drama family, and that strife was ever present between the different siblings. Lately, the eldest, Rhaenyra, had made an announcement in which she said to intend her branch of the company to take a whole other direction, putting the other branches managed by her brothers and sister in a difficult position.

“Y/N, where are Mathilda and Sam?”

You raised your head from your computer to look at your boss, M. Vander.

“Uh… I don’t know, I have not seen them all morning. Covering the charity event maybe?”

The man looked around desperately, thinking. “Ok then," he decided, eyes darting at you. “In my office please.”

You looked bewildered. You swore that if you he gave more work because Sam and Mathilda had run off again…

“I need you to go to Dragon Incorporation and interview Aegon Tagaryen,” he announced as he sat behind his desk.

You internally cursed. As if you did not have enough work already. “What? Why me? I cover cultural events, I am not…”

“You did hear about Rhaenyra’s announcement right?” he interrupted you.

“Yes, but since when are we interested in gossip, sir?”

“It’s not gossip. It’s gathering impressions on the changes that might have an influence on the citizens of the city. I’m sorry but you are the only one available that is competent enough Y/N.”

Please, anything but this.

“I- I don’t think this is a good idea sir, Mathilda is the one who usually interviews them I-”

“Y/N, I know you will manage perfectly. Take care of this please.”

You deeply inhaled as he dismissed you, nodding and got out of the office.

The reason why you dreaded the interview, except for the fact that it was absolutely not your area of expertise, is that Aegon Targaryen, second son and head of the communication department at Dragon Company, had such a reputation that you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. As a journalist, you were usually one of the firsts to learn what was new in town, and Aegon was definitely in the top 5 of the most scandalous things you had seen. Besides the accusations, the trials, the complaints and the police reports that most of the other agencies tried to hide from the public, he was also clearly a man that just did not care about his actions. He liked doing interviews, though, you had seen a draft of Mathilda’s interview with him once. You could not emphasise enough how much she had to remove in order for it to be decent to be published.

You had called your friend on your way to one of the many locations of Dragon Inc., taking your sweet time.

“I am so gonna kill them. They owe me big on this one, being absent today of all days. I hate them.”

“So you managed to get an appointment with him? With Aegon?”

“Uh…. No, I didn’t, not really. I kinda hope that I would just show up and that he would be absent. This way I won’t have to do it at all!” you sighed as you climbed the stairs that led to the offices floor.

“Y/N…Vander will be mad if he realises that you delayed this on purpose.”

“Trust me, if I am not the one who does the interview, he will have no trouble sending someone else, and be a hundred percent more satisfied with them, a clear win for both of us the way I see it.”

You were on the third floor, near the CEO’s office. As you walked through the corridor, you did not see the man who had just exited the elevator, almost bumping into you. He watched you warily as you continued talking loudly over the phone, not bothered at all if you were heard. Who was that woman?

“You are not that bad at interviews… Just go in there, ask the questions and get out, easy.”

“No it’s not! I’m used to report on cultural events, not… whatever this is! Gods I really don’t want to do this, Mathilda told me awful things about him...”

The man was walking behind you at a safe distance, now amused at your ranting. From what he gathered, you were a reporter. Were you here for his brother?

“Yeah, I read the papers too… Are you there yet?”

You were now before the door on which the shining plate of “Aegon Targaryen, Communication Director” was displayed.

You sighed. “Yeah… I’m standing at the door,” you breathed out, looking at your feet, defeated. “Maybe I could just… invent an interview.” Behind you, the man silently laughed at your unprofessionalism, comfortably leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you talk to the door. He was enjoying this far too much.

“You are stalling again… It will be alright. Hang up, and call me when you’re finished.”

“I guess you’re right, I should just, rip the band aid off. Ok… Talk to you soon.”

You hanged up, nervously fidgeting with your phone and puffed. You were staring at the door, gathering the courage to knock. As seconds passed without you moving a muscle, your silent observer then decided to have a little fun. “Can I help you?”

You jumped, startled at the sudden voice so close to you. Arms crossed over his chest, a man was staring at you, the ghost of what you thought to be a smile on his lips. How long has he been there?!

“Oh god you scared me!” you gasped, clutching your hand over your chest. Then you realised how odd your behaviour must have been. “I’m so sorry I was just… umh.”

He arched a brow, waiting for your response. You cleared your throat nervously.

“I came to see Aegon, Aegon Targaryen. I’m Y/N L/N, journalist at The Westerosi.” you smiled awkwardly before extending your hand to him. He looked at you for a moment before taking your hand.

“Aemond Targaryen,” he said as you shook hands.

Of course. You had recognised him at once, a beautiful lilac eye on one side and another piercing prosthetic blue eye on the other, a chiselled jaw line, silver-haired, and so very tall. There stood Aemond Targaryen, the most mysterious of the Targaryen’s siblings. You knew him to be quite intimidating from the pictures you have seen of him, but you did not expect the effect of seeing him in the flesh would have on your body as you let go of his hand. His whole demeanour screamed power and poise. You tried to control the feeling that crept up from your neck to your stomach. You cleared your throat, his intense gaze on you. You nervously fidgeted with your phone again.

“So is he…” you pointed to the door, “Is he in there?” you asked, your voice unsure.

“Yes.”

Aemond simply crossed his arms again, watching you look at the door like if it was an insurmountable obstacle. You were clearly not a fan of his brother.

“Would you like me to knock for you perhaps?” he asked.

“No no! Thank you, I perfectly know how to knock!” you tried to joke as he raised his brow higher. “I just, uhm…”

But then an idea came to your mind. Aemond was the most secretive of his family, never giving interviews, never appearing at social events as much as the others, and he was just there. You didn’t really know if he was as vile as his brother seemed to be, but you knew that if you brought back an exclusive interview of Aemond Targaryen, your boss would be delighted, and might even overlook the fact that you had been… unable to talk to Aegon. You had to take your chance. You turned around to face him.

“Actually, do you have a moment? I am gathering information on the recent changes that occurred in your company. Would you mind answering a few questions…?”

That is an interesting turn of events.

He seemed to pounder the proposition for a moment, and you were certain that he would throw you off, that you had overstepped.

“Very well,” he stated, his face letting nothing appear as you widened your eyes in disbelief. “What do you drink?”

You were so taken aback that you forgot to speak properly.

“Dr-d-” you stammered, “What do I drink?” you repeated.

“Yes. Coffee? Tea? I can have you brought anything you want.”

This man was unsettling. You had to put yourself together. “Uh... no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Mh.”

His eye was scanning you, and you couldn’t help but fidget on the spot, clearing your throat as you felt naked under his gaze.

“We will be more comfortable in my office. This way.”

Without a glance back at the door you had almost walked in, you followed him to another corridor, and inside a luxurious office. He sat behind his desk, tapped something on his phone and invited you to sit. You did as ordered, thanking him and taking out your pad containing the questions meant for Aegon.

You tried not to be disturbed by the unfaltering stare the second Targaryen son was giving you as you asked question after question. You had quickly rephrased some of them to be more suited for him instead of Aegon, and you thought that it was playing out quite nicely for an unintended interview.

He listened to you attentively, answering each of your questions as concisely as possible, and you could not be anything but impressed by how eloquent he was. You considered it a shame that his family did not use him more in public.

At one point, a beautiful woman that you gathered to be his assistant, entered the room, carrying a hot cup of coffee in hand. Her presence made you stop as she lowered herself to put the cup down next to Aemond, her low cleavage making you regret the fact that you had not taken off your blazer. He thanked her and as she left, her eyes looked at you from head to toe with a sufficient smile before walking her heels to the door and closing it, but not before giving the brightest smile you have ever seen to Aemond. You guessed that being this handsome and rich might have that effect.

He seemed unfazed though as he took a sip of his coffee nonchalantly. You could not help but stare at his throat as he drank the hot liquid, his Adam’s apple slightly pulsating at the movement. You were forced to clear your throat again, snapping out of your trance as he put down the cup.

“So, how would you describe your sister, Rhaenyra, in simple words? How do you see her as a member of your family and as an eminent member of your firm?”

He let your question hang in the air for quite some time, before biting the inside of his cheek and sitting back on his chair. He clearly did not like this one.

“Next question,” he deadpanned.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t like that question, so next please.”

You dropped down the pen that was ready to write to look at him with surprise. “You do realise that this interview is about the subdivision of the company, started by your sister.”

“Half-sister. And I understand perfectly. Please continue.”

You hold his gaze for a moment, unsure.

Very well then. “Have you ever considered, as head of the financial branch, to invest in other areas than the one you are currently involved with? Have you ever thought of sponsoring events or… celebrities for instance?”

As he answered your question, relieved that he did not seem crossed by the previous one in any way, you could not help but notice the way he licked his lips as he took another sip of coffee, his tongue slightly peaking out. At this moment, you had completely lost track of what he was saying, and by the time he had finished talking, you internally congratulated yourself for recording the interview on your phone. How very professional of you.

It seemed that your temporary distraction had you more disturbed than you thought as you saw the next question originally written for Aegon on your pad: How does the fact that you work in the same company as your wife influence you r decisions?

This was obviously not a question suited for the man sitting across from you, so you took a moment to try and adapt it to him, but it seemed that you were incapable of coherent thoughts right now.

“Are you involved with anyone?”

The question had left your lips faster than your brain could think. Not that you apparently owned a brain right now by the look of it. You cursed yourself. Big mistake.

You could see how the question had caught him off guard as you blushed and fiddled with your pad, apologising profusely at once.

“I’m so sorry, don’t mind the last one, it was meant for your brother…!” you stammered before realising that it sounded worse. You quickly found the next question, your body heating up.“Where do you see the company in ten years time?”

He had taken a bit more time to answer this one, watching how flustered you were and how your cheeks had reddened, making your skin so appealing to him that he could have sworn that he felt its warmth from this distance. Your nerves were all over the place, but it calmed down as the interview came to an end, taking control of your body again. You thanked him and stood up to shake his hand, promising him to keep him updated.

“Thank you very much for your time, M. Targaryen. I will take your secretary number and notify you when the article will be published.”

He left his place from behind his desk in order to accompany you to the door as you retrieved your coat, bringing with him the sweet scent of sandalwood and coffee. You had to get out of here.

“I look forward to reading it. When you see my brother, please tell him I said to behave.”

Oh. Aegon. It had completely escaped your mind. You undoubtedly felt like you had no obligation at all to go see him now, having obtained the interview of his quite private brother… But you could not tell him that. Instead you just nodded, hoping that he would not accompany you to his brother’s office.

“I will. Although I don’t think I will need anything more from him. I feel like I have everything I need,” you said, tapping on your pad.

“That is a relief. This way you won’t have to… invent an interview. I’m sure your skill lies elsewhere.”

You blushed at this, realising that Aemond had heard a good part of your conversation on the phone. You did not move as he stared at you quite pleased at your reaction.

“I would never… I mean, it was only a joke,” you tried. “I take my job very seriously. It’s just that I am more used to deal with people from other backgrounds.”

“Mh,” he nodded, reaching for the doorknob behind you. You exhaled in relief, the prospect of freedom one move away, but he paused again and did not open the door right away.

“By the way, the answer is no.”

You turned your head to him, almost bumping into his chest. “I’m sorry?”

“No, I am not involved with anyone at the moment.”

You tried to recall when in your life you had been as short of breath as you were now, stuck between the door and the man whose gaze made you feel like the weakest thing on earth. You tried to reply but nothing came, and as you bit your lips in anxiousness you tried not to notice how his eye had quickly lowered to the movement.

He only smirked and opened the door, stepping aside to allow you space. You swallowed as you quickly passed him, hands clutching at your coat in tension.

“Have a good day Miss L/N.”

And then he closed the door, leaving you to face the pretty assistant studying you from behind her desk, clearly annoyed at you, for whatever reason. You rapidly took the contact you needed from her and exited the building, welcoming the fresh air and grabbing your phone, calling your boss right away. Your lungs were on fire.

“Is it done?”

“Well, not exactly. I managed to have much better.” You were overselling it, but it was a miss or hit situation.

“What did you do Y/N?”

“I had obtained a meeting with the one and only Aemond Targaryen! He answered all of the questions on the subdivision, and even managed to get the intel you could not have if it had been with Aegon. This is good for us! You know he rarely gives any interviews.”

You were met with silence.

“Y/N…”

“Listen, I promise you to do the best article I have ever written on Dragon Inc. You will not be disappointed, I swear. Give me a chance Vander.”

“Y/N, how do you think Aegon Targaryen will react if he learns that he had not been consulted first?”

“Do we… really care about that, sir?” you asked, slightly appalled as you considered it.

“He is the main correspondent with our newspaper. Mathilda has always gone to him when we needed insight on Dragon Inc!”

You swallowed. This would not stop you, you had to make it work.

“All due respect sir, if you wanted that kind of interview, you should have sent her, not me. I managed to have an exclusive one and I believe in what I have gathered. You should too.”

Your boss went silent again, and as you saw this as a good sign, that we would be considering it at least, you continued.

“I will send you a draft tonight, and I’ll prove to you that this paper is worth publishing. I can assure you that Aemond’s Targaryen’s insight will raise the reader's interest much more than Aegon’s.”

Some more seconds of silence.

“Very well. I don’t like this, but I trust you Y/N, you have rarely disappointed me. I expect it before tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Then you quickly texted your friend, summarising your encounter with the one-eyed Targaryen before you jumped in a taxi and went home, reading over your notes.

Yep. Aemond Targaryen would not leave your mind any time soon.

Your boss had been happy with the draft, and now you were at your desk, writing the actual article. You had taken your time in scolding Mathilda and Sam, blaming them for forcing you to take on a task you knew would not have you so riled up, but your friends had only sympathised with you, and you had not been able to stay mad at them for long.

By noon the article was finished, and you had to wait for tomorrow’s paper for it to be published. You had managed to progress on your other projects in the meantime, but now it was dark outside and you were the only one left in the office. Again.

The piece of paper next to your keyboard with Aemond Targaryen’s contact information, was now becoming more and more difficult to ignore as you were soon to go home. All day you had glanced at it, hesitating between sending your completed interview to him now or waiting for him to discover it with everyone else in the morning.

Taking a deep breath, you finally took the piece of paper, typed the e-mail address and attached your article to it before thinking of something personal to write.

Nothing came as you simply wrote the most formal of e-mails, giving him the time of publication and thanking him again. As you pressed send, you sat back into your chair and stared at the screen as your mind began to imagine him receiving your e-mail, how his brows would knit together while his eye would dart over the lines you had written.

Shaking your head, you cursed yourself for losing yourself in such thoughts before shutting your computer down. You needed sleep.

Aemond Targaryen had looked your name up as soon as you had departed from his office, curious to know more about the woman who had forsaken his brother and dared ask an interview of him, Aemond Targaryen, of all people.

He stared at the screen with interest as he browsed The Westerosi ’s archives online, seeing the several articles you had written over the years, mostly about city events or local cultural activities, smiling each time he read your comments about this or that particular representation. Now he was having dinner with his family, listening to his mother’s complaints about his eldest sister again, when he felt his phone vibrate. He could not ignore the satisfaction he felt when your name appeared on the screen next to an e-mail, and wasted no time reading what you had sent him. You had done a good job, he liked that you remained factual in your writing, and he could not help the disappointment he felt when he saw the few lines you had written to thank him in your message. As he put down his phone again, he remembered how you never seemed to miss anything that happened in the city. He counted on that.

-0- Part 2

A/N: Any resemblance to a particular book/movie was unintended, I realised it afterwards. (Oops)

#aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #fluff #angst #oneshot #aemond oneshot #hotd #aemond au #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond modern au #aemond modern #aemond targaryen modern au #aemond targaryen modern #modern!aemond #aemond x you #mygif #Aemond's hand #Aemond hand #usermyfandomprompt

[pixaho]

Hi,how are you today? Did you have a good weekend?I was wondering if you can do the Ice alphabet NWSF (I think that’s how you spell it)thing?

NSFW Alphabet Headcannon | Ice

♥ A/N | Hiii, I'm doing good! My weekend is good! I hope you are doing equally as good. I will happily do this because I am weirdly attracted to both Ice and Sarah (she may be next, I don't know) and I'm really excited to do this one soooo HHEHEHEH! Enjoy. Also, if anyone can recommend me a site where I can watch all of the movies (besides Netflix) and the show... that would be really appreciated. I haven't started the show..

♥ Warnings | Smut obvs <3

M.LIST H&L LIST

☺ A - Aftercare

Even if he seems closed off and cold, he's actually decent with aftercare. I mean, even before he met you and had Mighty Warriors, he took care of his brother. He's really good at taking care of others. And bonus, he'll cuddle with you after.

☺ B - Body Part

Definitely your thighs but it's also your face. Ice likes laying in between your legs whether it's during the spicy tango or not. It's his favorite area to lay. Your face is pretty obvious, he'll just be staring at it all day as if its the most amusing thing ever.

☺ C - Cum

More of a clean guy so even when you're doing it together he'll put a towel beneath you. To speak of cum, he prefers to pull out and (if he isn't wearing a condom, which is rare) cum on your stomach or back depending on the situation. If you're not on birth control, he will wear condoms every time. It isn't that he doesn't think he could be a good father, it's because considering his line of work, he has a target on his back.

☺ D - Dirty Secret

He doesn't really have a dirty secret that you don't know of besides having very, almost real, dirty daydreams about using your body. He won't ever tell you unless you're both drunk, in which you'll probably forget about it anyways.

☺ E - Experience

Surprise surprise, our baby boy is not at all experienced whatsoever. Even when he was a teenager, he wasn't doing normal teen activities (He literally was a Mercenary) so he was bit embarrassed when you asked him about it.

☺ F - Favorite Position

Cowgirl and missionary, he isn't too picky about the potions so usually you can try new stuff, but his favorite positions are definitely Cowgirl and missionary.

☺ G - Goofy

He is pretty serious when you guys are doing it, but if you do crack a joke or two he'll be okay with it but majority of the time you spend together, he's quite serious.

☺ H - Hair

Quite the clean shaven dude, as said before, he's a clean type of guy. He tends to keep himself more clean than everybody else around him. As for you, he doesn't really care because he knows hair is natural and he loves you.

☺ I - Intimacy

He's iffy about romance but he is really romantic. Even when he doesn't realize it, he can be. It's hard for intimacy to be that way for him due to how he grew up.

☺ J - Jack off (Masturbation)

He does it all the time, but he only does it in private. He doesn't like public stuff unless he's with you. He'll also do it if you guys do mutual masturbation (if you don't know what this is, you basically don't touch each other and instead masturbate, watching each other.)

☺ K - Kinks

Believe me, this is not a vanilla man. Ice is a switch, he'll be a top if you want to be dominated and he will be a bottom if you want to dominate. He's also into blind folds for some reason, even if he can't see your face (which he loves) he'll imagine it. And... surprise surprise, he's into face fucking. He enjoys having you sit on his face, or him laying between your thighs and going ham, holding you in place as you squirm.

☺ L - Location

As said before, he doesn't like doing stuff in public so most likely you'll be fucking in your shared bedroom or if you are at the Mighty Warriors, in Ice's "office".

☺ M - Motivation

Anytime you feel like you want his hands over you is his motivation, or when he's done day dreaming. This boy is slightly complicated.

☺ N - No

No to dirty kinks (piss, blood, shit) but he will spit on you if thats what you want, it icks him tho.

☺ O - Oral

Loves giving more than receiving. For Ice, he believes you deserve more pleasure than he does. He will let you give if you want but majority of the time he'll give.

☺ P - Pace

It truly depends on you. :)

☺ Q - Quickies

He prefers to take his time with you but he'll settle for a quicky if you're both too tired.

☺ R - Risk

Ice only cares about his reputation around the others, but with you, it doesn't matter. He'll try to keep things under control so his reputation isn't ruined.

☺ S - Stamina

ALLLLLL NIIIIIIIIIIGHT LOOOOOOOOOOONG! Probably like 2 - 4 hours max..

☺ T - Toys

He doesn't use them. Most likely won't.

☺ U - Unfair

Not that unfair. Not unfair at all. Besides when he overstimulates you... then he's unfair.

☺ V - Volume

He tries to keep quiet but when he can't, let the whistle blow! He's more on the quiet whimpering side of moans (I just love whimpering men omgggg)

☺ W - Wild Card

You best motherfuckin' believe he'll go ALL DAY AND NIGHT when he sees you wearing sweats and an oversized t-shirt because HOOOOOOOOOOOOLY It turns him on. (Personally, I am offended we did not get to see this man or any other man of H&L in sweats.)

☺ X - X-ray

:) 6.5 inches.

☺ Y - Yearning

Literally will drop everything just to come and fuck you, whether its out of frustration or just because he wants to. He always makes time for you, except when he's fighting.

☺ Z - Zzz

He won't fall asleep until you do. It's a given, he wants to make sure you are okay before he is. Scrumptious little ex-mercenary cutie <3

Mutuals | @talusional

#elixirol0gy #high and low fanfic #high and low #highandlowfanfic #frothing at the mouth #highandlowsmut #fluff #high and low ice #highandlowice #mighty warriors #mighty warriors ice #mightywarriors #mightywarriorsice

[slippinmickeys]

Twenty questions for fanfic writers

I was tagged by @agent-troi and @randomfoggytiger Thanks for the tag, guys!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

53

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

712,000 exactly, which is sort of creepy?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The X-Files mainly, though a million years ago I wrote two fics for JAG, and technically, I have a His Dark Materials fic (but it's an XF crossover)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Mesas of Deuteronilus Mensae

Prompt Drabble Collection

The Annapolis Grant

Three Part Harmony

A Companion Unobtrusive

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to! Comments are the only payment fanfic writers get, and it's an incredibly valuable and underrated currency. Fanfiction as a community is one of the most generous you'll find, and I'm incredibly proud to be a part of this particular one.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh man, probably La Comtesse de Saint-Germain.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

In this day and age I feel like we deal with enough shit, so I try to end most of my fics happily. I think A Gem-Like Flame probably has the most uplifting happy ending, but then, I'm a sports nerd.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't yet.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Um, probably pretty vanilla het MSR. No shame.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've only written one, but it turned out really well, I thought. It's an X-Files/His Dark Materials novella-length crossover that takes place in Lyra's world, pre-Lyra, called Out of the Little Grove.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Anyone who steals my fic is going to catch these hands.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, a couple of years ago someone asked if they could translate one of my fics to Russian. It's out there somewhere.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I jumped in and helped @monikafilefan get Five Years and a Lifetime over the line for a fic exchange a couple of years ago. A fun, collaborative experience, that was like 85% Monika. It's a great fic, check it out if you haven't!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Mulder & Scully are my OTP. Always and forever.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'd love to finish Madam Scully's Spiritual Services, Inc., it's an AU where Scully works for her sister's Psychic Boutique while prepping for med school. Scully ends up being actually psychic and she helps newly minted FBI agent Fox Mulder solve a series of murders. I have it almost completely plotted (except for the nitty-gritty hard stuff), but I don't think I'll ever get it done, sadly. It's just too big a story to tackle with where I am in my life. Though I never say never.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm decent at dialogue, have a pretty firm grasp on plotting, and, I hope characterization.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

My character work is probably my weak spot, which is why I have so much fun writing fanfic--the character work is already done, I just get to play around a world where everybody already knows the characters.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

When I do it, I hope like hell that I'm doing it right. I think it's necessary for some stories and you just hope you're properly respecting a language you don't speak.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files, in the year of our lord nineteen hundred and ninety eight.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

It's a toss up between Proof of Life, an AU where CNN conflict reporter Dana Scully is kidnapped and imprisoned with fellow kidnap victim and photojournalist Fox Mulder, and they, you know, fall in love. And North of Zero, a post-col novel where Mulder and Scully get William back and have to save the world. The one I totally pantsed (made up as I went along), and it came together like alchemy. I love that story. If you don't like AU, you'd like Proof of Life. If you don't like post-colonization stories, you'd like North of Zero. I don't always like everything I've written after I'm done writing it (a writer's life), but I'm incredibly proud of both of those fics.

Tagging @monikafilefan because she's already tagged, and anyone else who wants to do this!

#fanfic asks #the x-files #the x-files fanfic #slippin mickeys

[ben-drowned-me]

Hello can I request some Ben drowned headcanons? Like how do you picture him to look like or act like? I am like literally obsessed with your headcanons, have a nice day/night!!‼️‼️

✧.* ben drowned headcanons

that is the sweetest compliment ever !! thank you sweetheart, i appreciate it so much<3 ben is one of my faves! i kind 'f strayed off a bit i feel but i hope you enjoy :)

he doesn't wear the hat all the time i swear

i just don't think it's all that comfortable for him to wear (why does link wear it at all??)

i know canon he's pictured as majoras mask link but i picture him more hyrule warriors link

his hair is a bit more ashy though, not like a super-pigmented blonde

only wears the outfit while on hunts, does NOT clean it either

probably sticks w green colours but also stupid graphic tees (see; jesse pinkman outfits)

eyes don't consistently bleed but like atp its stained there

i mean he could wash his face but.. will he??

with all of them, they can have pretty violent mood changes but i think honestly ben is on the more mellow side

yes he's been through some shit, but he's had a lot of time to come to terms with it (barely aging does that to 'ya)

i think he like ages super slow btw so he's not like 8 forever lolz

but on average he's pretty decent with emotions n shit

still has bad days but handles it better than some of the others do

bad nightmares tho which he does not handle well

very observant, always looking out for people

more of a show not tell guy?? if he notices that someone hasn't eaten then he'll hand them smth silently yk?

enjoys quality time with people

rage quits games sorry i dont make the rules 

then hacks the other peoples' devices cause he's mad

menace.

pranks everyone even if he knows he'll get his ass beat

everybody's little brother

all in all is an absolute sweetheart who is also a jackass!!

#creepypasta x reader #ben drowned #creepypasta #creepypasta blog #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta hc #ben drowned hc

[peachykoii]

I’ve got to ask…

What do y’all think Jiang Man would really do if she found out that Embla killed Fan Liang, Hyde and Fu Shi have been purposely withholding this information from everybody, and also the Shadow Decree Council has been using the fact that she has amnesia and her unbreakable but “misplaced” vendetta against the Esper Union to their advantage? I mean, genuinely, I’m so curious about what she’d do. She’s driven by emotions that she doesn’t even understand completely. Would being given the proof and reason change anything?

The fact that Embla is right there and they go have their memory checked all the time together and the 3 are becoming decently friendly together. Meanwhile, Fu Shi manipulating Jiang Man into thinking they’re all strangers.

Even worse!!!

Do you think, based on Embla’s bounties, that she ever has movie dreams of the aftermath of the failed Artificial Esper Project? Relearning bits and pieces of the immediate days afterwards and the chasm it made in the Union. How utterly devoted, obsessed, and resilient Fu Shi was to finding a way to bring her back. Seeing him fretting over the sudden disappearance of Fan Liang’s gf when everyone is trying to cover up the project. Eaten by the guilt of the fact that only they knew what happened to Fan Liang. I KNOW Embla had to have seen and/or known in some capacity who Jiang Man was and who Fan Liang was; she was one of the head researchers of the project. There’s no way she wouldn’t want to be a part of the initial trials in all aspects (with respect to the fact that she was losing her grip on reality). But this is all and only for her to wake up each night having forgotten everything once again.

DO YOU THINK THAT THEY EVER HAD THE CHANCE TO GAVE THE RING TO JIANG MAN??? Since they had to study, preserve, or dispose of the bodies in some capacity (edited) and since Fu Shi stabilized and fully transformed, his dead body was still there when it was all said and done. DO YOU THINK THEY COULD’VE GIVEN IT TO FU SHI SINCE HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO GENERALLY WAS ACQUAINTANCES WITH FAN LIANG + (only on Fu Shi’s end) AND KNEW HE MEANT TO PROPOSE???

I’m going insane thinking about this, y’all. 😭😭

Even more worse, do you think Fu Shi is down bad enough and too far gone enough that if he did get the ring, he’s keeping it to himself with hopes to marry Embla someday because it represents how far he’s willing to go, do, and be to be with her???

#dislyte #dislyte jiang man #dislyte fu shi #dislyte embla #dislyte fan liang

[tamurilofrivendell]

Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 5

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4,]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village Taglist (let me know if you wish to be added): @captainchrisstan​, @rebleforkicks​

The sheet ladder that you had been working on was now reaching quite a decent length. You had pushed open the window to your room so that you could more easily gauge the distance. This kingdom was strangely built and you were concerned that you were going to end up getting lost before you found your way out of here but you told yourself to focus on one aspect at a time. Your main focus was escaping this room. You hadn’t thought you had any chance in the cells but here there was a definite opportunity.

Your thoughts kept straying to your father, hoping he had been safely taken to the edge of the forest. He would find his way home from there but from the look of him when you’d seen him, he would need a healer. What had they done to him? What kind of monster didn’t help a man in clear need of aid? He’d looked ill and uncared for. Surely even if you had prisoners, there was a standard to which you must care for them? Your heart was filled with more anger as you thought of that wretched elf king.

The sudden sound of knocking at the door caused you to freeze in place and you turned hesitantly away from your task.

Legolas stood on the other side of the door. He’d lifted his hand to knock, not wanting to just stride into the room and make you feel uncomfortable. You were most likely uncomfortable enough and he still felt bad for having scared you before. He was too gentle and kind a soul for that and he would probably feel bad about it for a good many days yet. “My Lady?” He ventured, unable to see the way your eyes narrowed at the way he addressed you. You didn’t speak. He knew you were in there, there was no way you could have gotten past the guards, and he had heard the shuffling from inside the room before he had knocked. You must still be scared.

“Are you hungry?” Legolas continued, pausing briefly to see if you would grace him with a response. None came. “I offer an invitation to dine... would you not like a different view for a while?” Legolas knew that this was probably just going to get him in some sort of trouble and he couldn’t really say that right now he had much of a reason for this other than feeling bad. But sometimes he thought that was a good enough reason on its own.

There was no other response as you stared at the door. If you didn’t agree would he have it opened and drag you out regardless? Why was the prince inviting you personally to dine? You were a prisoner, were you not?

“Please, I mean you no--”

“You will join us for dinner.” A new voice interrupted the sentence Legolas had started. Everybody (Legolas, Tauriel, and the guards) turned to see the King taking slow, deliberate steps towards the end of the hall where your room was located.

You recognised the smooth baritone of the voice immediately and your blood ran cold.

“That is not a request.” Thranduil continued, staring at his son with venom. He just could not understand what Legolas was doing or thinking but he had to admit that part of him, small as that part may be, was beginning to get curious. Curious enough to go along with his son and see how this would play out. Besides, maybe if you joined them for a meal, he would be able to give you some more rules about your new place here. Maybe he could assign you some lowly job so you were not just sitting around taking up space and resources... since Legolas was so insistent on you not being locked up in a cell for whatever insane reason.

Anger flickered in your veins at the words and you frowned at the still closed door. “You have taken me as your prisoner.” You spat. “And now you want me to have dinner with you? Are you completely mad?!”

Thranduil’s composure slipped slightly, shocked at not only your ungrateful tone but your words. Surely you had the good sense to show more respect and common courtesy. He was the King of this realm, after all, and you had been afforded more than you should have considering the situation. Yes, perhaps his son was mainly the one to thank but nothing could happen without his approval. Were you so foolish to believe you could speak to him in this way?

“You have been afforded your own room, a comfortable bed.” He stated, voice low, tone slightly dangerous. “One would think that you would be a little more grateful.”

Grateful?! You could hardly believe your ears. How arrogant! “I would starve before I ate with you!” Came your reply, tone conveying your bitterness towards him.

“Very well!” The words were hissed through the door, the sound of a palm smacking hard against the wood causing you to jump out of your skin.

Thranduil had lashed out and hit the door in his frustration at your disrespect. “Be my guest!” He snapped. “Starve.” Thranduil turned from the door, looking down at the others in the corridor. Anger flashed in his eyes and not even Legolas thought to continue to push this situation at present. “If she does not eat with us, then she does not eat at all.” He said loud enough for you to be able to hear him on the other side of the door and then he turned on his heel, disappearing round the corner.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil x yn #thranduil fanfic #lotr fanfic #hobbit fanfic #beauty and the beast

[anticomedygarden]

you're a sad sight honey but you look so cute

On the way back from the marching band's biggest performance of the year, Nico's bus breaks down. With none of his friends with him, he's completely alone, but when the chaperone puts the two section leaders in charge, he's forced to cooperate with Will Solace, his polar opposite and maybe sort of long time crush.

What could go wrong?

also on ao3

sorry it's been so long. i've been working on this long ass bastard for like a month. there will be two more chapters after this, and they're mostly done this time! everyone should be so proud.

if you can, i would recommend reading this one on ao3 because the first chapter is over 11,000 words.

minor tw for implied death of siblings and parents.

title from billy joel's 'i don't want to be alone anymore'

-

Five minutes since

Cold.

That was all Nico felt as he and everybody around him watched smoky tendrils wind their way up from the hood of the big yellow school bus, dancing playfully as if they weren't a message from God that Nico should have stayed in bed this morning and avoided this day from hell entirely.

He had been up since 3:30 a.m. His band grade could've taken the hit.

After the last kid stumbled out of the bus, uniform bag in hand, the bus driver climbed down and said, "We've got an engine problem."

Nico resisted the urge to spit back, "You don't say?", and instead turned to Mrs. Knowles, some freshman's mom and one of the newest members of the band's parent board. She had been appointed chaperone of the juniors for today's trip to New Rome University, and Nico had to say, she was not doing well.

"Um..." she started, sensing the eyes of three dozen 16-17 year olds. Her breath streamed out in white trails. "I'm gonna call the directors. If anyone here is a section leader, you're in charge."

Nico groaned internally and tried to avoid the eyes of the only other junior section leader as well as those of the rest of the teens present. Why, why, did he have to apply for low brass section leader last year?

Oh. He really shouldn't be asking himself that question, not when he already knew the answer.

But he put that thought away because a golden blond head was walking toward him across the stupid highway rest stop they were currently trapped in. Will Solace, the flute section leader and Nico's unfortunate partner for the time being.

If he made it out of this day with his sanity intact, it would be a miracle.

2 years before

Nico walked into the band room of Olympus High School for the first time with a bit of anticipation, some excitement, and a shit ton of dread. So far, his first impression of his new school hadn't been flattering, and his hopes for the next four years tanked with each step he took toward the band room.

If the rest of the school looked like ass, there was no way the band had any decent funding.

"Here's the music hallway," Percy said as they turned down the last hallway in the bottom floor of the school. "If you ever have a choir class, there's the classroom." He pointed to another door to the right. "There's the tuba/sousaphone closet. It looks like that because it used to be a boys' bathroom."

That explained the shitty tile and yellowing sink. At least Nico could say with confidence that he would never have to go in there. He still made note of it, though, since he may actually be staying at this school for a while.

"That's the color guard closet, but they haven't been able to use it this season because someone left cheese in there last season and, long story short, it got flooded."

Nico wasn't quite sure how old cheese led to an entire room being flooded, but if anyone could manage it, it was Percy. Especially in marching band.

"Was Thalia the one who left the cheese in there?" Nico asked, recalling that his oldest cousin of their group did color guard in outdoor season.

Percy's lips quirked. "No comment."

Finally, they got to the end of the white painted hallway and turned into the double doors of the band room, and Nico was immediately hit with the vivid sounds, smells, and sights of a high school marching band. He really should have expected this, but it was 7:45 in the morning and Percy had just taken him on a complete tour of the school. It wasn't exactly in the forefront of his mind.

They had come in on the side of the set up, behind the third trumpets and next to the smaller instruments' cubby. Horrid blue carpet squished under his feet, and the red painted brick walls were a true affront to his tired eyes. Dozens, probably more than a hundred, people packed into the large room, all talking, setting up instruments for practice, and milling around. As a freshman, Nico wasn't entirely used to marching band and all its attributes yet, but the month at his old school had at least helped him prepare a little.

Next was the smell. Sweat was his first impression, but spit from the brass instruments ingrained in the carpet certainly made itself known, and that wasn't even just from marching band. Rocking his trombone case back and forth, he supposed he would be contributing to that smell soon enough.

Probably the biggest assault to his senses was the noise. Everywhere, someone was testing out their instruments, tuning, practicing, or just generally goofing around. Percussionists were going through cadences, flutes were tuning against clarinets (one of the worst sounds in the world in his opinion), and he thought he heard a trumpet playing Baby Shark.

It was warm, too, with so many people blowing hot air. He could practically taste the humidity.

Someone blew a particularly shrill note, drawing his attention to the flute section. He paused. The offending member was a piccolo player, blond and blue eyed. Gorgeous.

The boy's startled eyes caught Nico's, and he looked away, a blush rising to his cheeks. "Who is that?" he asked Percy.

The taller boy didn't stop twirling his drumsticks. "Will Solace. He just started learning picc." He glanced down at Nico. "Will's a freshman, just like you, but I think he's been at Olympus for a few years. Why?"

Nico was spared answering by Percy's girlfriend, Annabeth, who was also their drum major. She stepped up onto a chair and blew her whistle, causing all noise to stop. "Everybody on the field!"

There was a mad scramble as the band rushed out the back doors, and Nico lost sight of the blond boy which was probably for the best. He couldn't, wouldn't, get attached.

He took a deep breath and tried to cast the beautiful boy from his mind and focus on his trombone.

He really had missed this.

15 minutes since

"When are they coming back to get us?" some short little guy who Nico thought might be a trumpet player asked in a whiny voice.

Frankly, Nico'd had enough socializing for one day and was ready to tell the kid to fuck off, but Will just calmly said, "We don't know yet, Hayden. You should probably find somewhere to sit and settle in. We could be here for a while."

Hayden rolled his eyes but turned around, presumably to find his friends. Nico hoped someone else had the kid's uniform bag because that would not be cheap to replace.

Next to him, Will had his own uniform bag by the hanger slung over a shoulder, and the shoes kept bouncing against the backs of his knees every time he moved, making an annoying thud noise. Nico's was in a pool at their feet.

When it became apparent that Hayden was the last kid in line to bug them, Will glanced down and said, "Your uniform's gonna get wrinkled."

Nico quickly rifled through every interaction he'd ever had with the flutist to try and figure out why he thought Nico would care about his band uniform getting wrinkled and came up with nothing.

At this point, he really didn't feel like talking, though, but Will was still looking at him expectantly, so he mumbled out an, "It's fine."

Will shrugged. "Suit yourself." Then, he turned around and walked around the bus to where Mrs. Knowles had gone. Reluctantly, Nico picked up his bag and followed him with the thought that two people were better than 34.

"Mrs. Knowles, any word on-oh." Will stopped in his tracks, nearly causing Nico to run into him in the shade of the bus. A second later, he looked up and saw why.

Mrs. Knowles was not on the phone with either band director like she'd promised but was instead holding up a lit cigarette to her mouth, and the two burnt out orange rolls at her feet told him this wasn't her first. The brunette turned around and squawked, dropping the cigarette.

"Oh, hey, I didn't hear you come around," she said with false nonchalance as she frantically stamped it out.

Fortunately, it seemed Will had decided he would be doing all the talking between the two of them. "We were just wondering if you'd heard anything about the bus? Some people are getting antsy."

And they'd only be getting worse as they realized their bus had broken down an hour into the three hour trip back to Olympus, which meant that no matter if administration called to say they had a bus ready to come get them right fucking now, it would be at least two hours until it got to them and four hours until they got home.

Nico just wanted to go home.

He shivered, and it wasn't just because of the cold. As soon as Will finished asking about the bus, Mrs. Knowles got an unpleasant look on her face. "I called Mr. D-"

"Big mistake," Nico muttered.

"-and he was no help, so I called Chiron, and he said he'd talk to transportation about getting another bus sent out. That was twenty minutes ago." Her brown hair escaping its pink claw clip swirled about her face in the cold October wind.

"Wonderful," Nico muttered.

"Did he give you any sort of timeline?" Will asked.

She winced. "No, sorry boys. You should probably go get comfy. We're gonna be here a while."

Nico did not miss the irony.

13 months before

It hadn't really sunk in yet for Nico, that this was Percy, Annabeth, and Grover's last NRU homecoming parade. Really, he had stopped thinking about anything at all except for his burning arms and legs about four blocks ago. Even the music managed to escape his mind.

But, as the band performed their nine millionth rendition of "How Far I'll Go" and Nico began to think his mouthpiece had frozen to his face, the realization trickled in. The next time he marched in these streets, three of his (only) friends would be watching from the sidelines.

The thought chilled him, more so than the cold wind that bit through his bright orange and purple uniform, cutting off feeling to his already numb fingers.

Suddenly, one of his section mates cut through his spiral. "Guide!"

He glanced down as surreptitiously as he could while holding a long metal tube up to his face to see that he was a step behind the rest of his line. He scrambled to catch up, wishing Chiron and Mr. D hadn't put him in the front row or that trombones didn't make up the first two rows of parade block.

Finally, they finished the song, and everybody brought their instruments down to attention. He took a deep breath.

Somebody in a row behind him (specific, he knew) started doing the steps chant. Left. Left. Left, right, left. He made sure his feet were in line.

They turned another corner, and he caught a whiff of pizza. Jupiter's, the most popular pizza place in the too large college town. That meant they were about three-quarters of the way through. He wondered idly how much time he'd be spending there in the next few years as Hazel dragged them to visit Percy, Annabeth, Grover and eventually Jason, Piper, Leo, and Frank, knowing he would never voluntarily go himself.

They were leaving him. He didn't see why he should have to go out of his way to see them.

The drumline slipped into another cadence, one of the more fun ones. With Percy in complete control and coasting through his final NRU parade, they hadn't done any of the boring ones yet, so kudos to that, though he was sure the freshman snares didn't feel the same.

Unfortunately, with every step, Nico's annoyance grew. The fun, upbeat cadences only served as a reminder that whoever took over as percussion section leader next year wouldn't be Percy, and in less than two years, he'd be left alone, again. (Sure, he'd have Hazel, but she was a year below him and had already made so many new friends that she clearly didn't need him the way he so desperately needed her.) By his senior year, he'd be left with nothing but holes in the spaces his cousins and the people that came with them used to occupy, vacancies unfillable by Nico's social skills alone.

At one time in his life, Nico had welcomed the emptiness because it meant he didn't have to face the biggest void of them all. But now? Well, now it was feeling more and more like the people that forced their way into his life with hammers and claws were the only thing keeping him from escaping back into that cavernous abyss, and for the first time in his life he craved that companionship like a starving man, because the eyes blinking back at him from the void were brown.

So when the parade was over, and everybody celebrated their new first place trophy, Nico didn't care that Percy and Annabeth lost themselves in each other, or that Hazel seemed to forget about him after going off with her friends, or that he had to say goodbye to Jason and get on the sophomore bus, and he definitely didn't care when pretty boy Will Solace and his friends celebrated the whole way home, filling the bus with their laughter and camaraderie.

He just sat alone on his bench seat and stared out the window until he eventually fell into a mercilessly dreamless sleep.

18 minutes since

Before Will could offer some falsely cheery placation that would make Nico nauseated, he turned and stomped back out to the other side of the bus.

Great, just great. Of course this would happen today, of all days, when he was exhausted, and already upset and wrung out.

Not watching where he was going, he tripped on a parking spot bar and ended up stumbling into the grass on the far side of the rest stop, somehow managing to find the only not yet overrun by teenagers in his dazed state.

"Hey, hey," someone said behind him, and he violently shrugged off the hand they settled on his shoulder. "Hey, it's me. It's Will."

As if that was supposed to make him feel better.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked, uncaring how harsh it sounded.

The blond held up his hands in a 'don't kill me gesture.' "Just wanted to make sure that you're alright. You seemed pretty upset."

God, we're all blonds this mother hen-y? If he pulled out a bag of granola bars, Nico would have to start calling him Jason.

"Well, I'm fine, so you can go back to your friends." He looked down at the yellowing grass.

"You are so clearly not fine," Will said firmly. "Besides, none of my friends are here."

Nico looked up in surprise. He could've sworn he'd seen Will hanging out with a baritone and a clarinet player.

He didn't say anything, though, and Will took that as a signal to continue. "Lou Ellen slept through her alarm, and Cecil got excused for a broken arm.

"You only have two friends?" His eyes widened as he realized how bad that sounded. "That came out wrong."

Thankfully, Will chuckled. "It's fine, I knew what you meant. Yeah, I guess so. They're my only two really good friends, if you don't count my siblings."

Nico didn't know he had any siblings. He filed that away for later. "I actually meant that I thought I'd seen you hanging out with more people."

Will shrugged. "I'm pretty friendly with everybody."

Right. Because Nico wasn't, and Will was just being a nice guy.

He turned away. "Well, you can go be friendly with somebody else now. Goodbye."

Once again, Will caught his shoulder, and Nico looked up. To his surprise, Will was blushing. "I, uh. I don't really want to be friendly with anybody else."

Nico wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

1 year before

"Speech! Speech! Speech!" the whole band chanted as Annabeth tried her best to shush them. They were on the track behind the Olympus football team getting ready to march halftime for homecoming, and per tradition, it was time for senior speeches.

AKA, the performance that most of the band was about to march through tears.

Clarisse stepped up first, or more accurately, into the middle of the circle. Her speech was short and sweet but somehow still inspiring. Katie Gardener went next, and then immediately after her was her boyfriend, Travis Stoll. Nico didn't think his speech was particularly sad, but his brother Connor was bawling by the end of it. Next to him, Jason was openly weeping.

Then, Grover went. Nico had never been particularly close with the clarinet player, but he was Percy's best friend, so they'd been in the general proximity of each other enough times that Nico was relatively comfortable around him. It still wasn't enough to make him cry at his speech.

It was clearly enough for Annabeth, though, as her face was swimming in tears when she stumbled into the middle of the circle, mace clutched in her white-gloved hand. "Grover, I'm not gonna be able to get through this now." She swiped a hand under her eyes.

"You got this, babe!" Percy said from the other side of the circle. Even from here, Nico could see the tear tracks from under his hat.

"God, Jackson," Annabeth mumbled. "Dammit. When Thalia did this last year, I really didn't think it would be so hard."

Of course not. Thalia made everything look both easy and painless, simultaneously the best and worst thing about her.

"Okay, here goes." She laughed. "I can't even begin to describe how much the band and all of you mean to me, and I can't imagine not being here next year, but I am so ready for it. The thought of not seeing the band room first thing in the morning every day scares me so much. It's kind of like an anchor even though it smells like sweat, and the walls look like someone rubbed rusty nails all over them; it's been a steady point, one that I don't want to give up yet, but..." She glanced over at Percy, a small smile shining through her tears. "I can't wait for our next adventure."

By the end of her speech, Percy was absolutely bawling, so Annabeth stepped to the side and hugged him, giving everyone else a welcome reprieve from the onslaught of emotion.

To his horror, Nico felt a lump forming in his throat. Why? He and Annabeth weren't even that close. He could make it through some silly little goodbye speeches.

Maddeningly, he tried and failed to swallow, each attempt seemingly bringing more tears to his eyes. This did not bode well for Percy's speech.

He really did not want to cry in front of all these people. He had a reputation, for fuck's sake.

Nico looked up and accidentally caught the teary eyes of Will Solace. The boy didn't look much better than Jason, but he somehow pulled it off. Nico tried to ignore the little flutter that sent to his stomach because just then, Percy stepped into the circle.

35 minutes since

Nico took a second to marvel at the situation he was currently in.

He was seated on a concrete parking bar at a highway restop somewhere in the state New York, and Will Solace was telling him a story about helping birth a goat at his grandparents' farm in Texas.

Now, Nico was and had always been an outdoorsy kid. Back in Italy, there was a small forest near where they lived, and he and his sister would go in there all the time to explore. He was never squeamish, either, constantly picking up frogs and lizards and bugs. At this point in his short life, he'd probably spent more time outside than inside.

But this was a bit much.

Then Will said the most horrifying sentence Nico had ever heard. "Do you wanna see pictures?"

He frantically shook his head. "No, I'm good."

Will had the nerve to laugh at him. "Of the goat, not the birth."

"Oh." Maybe he should've guessed that. "Sure."

That was how he ended up looking at pictures of a baby goat with Will Solace. He had to admit, it was pretty cute.

Will's phone buzzed with a text just then, and Nico couldn't stop himself from reading it before Will took the device away.  

Lou Ellen

just heard about the bus. so glad i slept in today

It sounded exactly like something a best friend would say, not that Nico would know because he'd been purposefully ignoring the buzzing coming from his pocket for the last half hour. It wasn't that he thought his friends would be mean or unsympathetic; quite the opposite, actually. He knew without checking his phone that Percy had already offered to come get him and that Jason was sending words of support along with the rest of his friends, but he just couldn't handle that right now, not after this morning. Besides, he was actually having fun with Will and didn't want to ruin that with emotions.

Speaking of Will, he still wasn't quite sure what was going on there. The way he'd said 'there isn't anyone else' made Nico seem like a last resort. It didn't exactly make him feel good, but the piccolo player was refusing to leave, so Nico was kind of stuck with him, figuratively and literally.

While Will was tapping out a response, the buzzing in Nico's pocket finally graduated to the ringing of a phone call. Several sets of eyes turned toward him.

He sighed and picked up his phone. "What do you want, Jackson?" He wasn't at all surprised that Percy was calling him, but he was a little surprised Jason hadn't gotten there first. Maybe Piper or Leo convinced him to wait. Whatever.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Then, almost as an afterthought, "You're not answering our texts."

Nico took a second to marvel at his friends' inability to take a hint. It did wonders for the feeling talking to Percy again was giving him. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I can come get you-"

"You're not driving six hours for me. I said I'm fine." He appreciated the thought, though he'd never say that out loud.

"I wouldn't mind. Or I can bring you back here and you can stay the night-"

"No, definitely don't do that." He raised his voice when he heard a girl laughing. "Annabeth, don't let him do that!"

There was shuffling on the other end. "I won't. But if you change your mind-"

"I won't, but thanks for the offer." It occurred to him then that even if Percy did come get him, he wouldn't be able to leave without a guardian's signature, and that sure as hell wasn't happening. "Tell Jason I'm fine, and he doesn't need to call me." If talking to Percy was hard, Jason would be impossible.

There were more ruffling sounds. "Why don't you just answer the group chat?"

Because he didn't want to open his messaging app and see the last text from Jason. Because he couldn't bear to see all the supportive words when everyone was leaving him. "You're breaking up."

"What? Nico-"

"Sorry, can't hear you." With that, he ended the call and put his phone on do not disturb.

6 months before

When Chiron made the announcement that morning about section leader applications, Nico hadn't really been listening. He'd seen no point; he was but a lowly sophomore, barely better than a freshman (that was a lie). He couldn't even keep himself in line, let alone an entire section. There was no way he'd be chosen even if he did apply.

But the more he thought about it throughout the day, the more it seemed like a good idea. The low brass sections weren't exactly known for their responsibility. Actually, he couldn't think of anyone in his section he'd want to lead him, even the current juniors. (Except Hazel, obviously.)

Then, Percy pulled him aside at the end of the day and said, "You should apply for section leader."

Slightly disoriented, Nico looked around the dingy old tuba closet. There were sousaphones and tubas hanging from big hooks embedded in the walls, and there were drains dotting the dilapidated green tile floor. So much for not spending any time in here. He looked back at Percy's green eyes. "Okay."

"You're smart, commandi-wait, did you say okay?" Percy looked genuinely confused at Nico's lack of resistance, and Nico tried to ignore what Percy calling him 'smart' did to his brain.

He shrugged. "Yeah. There's nobody else except Hazel I'd trust to do it, and we need two."

Percy sighed in relief. "Okay, cool." The percussionist looked around as if he wasn't sure what to do now. "I was expecting a lot more pushback. I even made a speech!" Before Nico could express how much he did not want to hear the speech, Percy continued, "I was gonna talk about how smart and commanding you are and how much you've grown in the last couple years."

The words made heat rise to Nico's cheeks, but it was quickly replaced with a cold, bitter feeling. Why was Percy telling him this now, when he was about to graduate and move three hours away? And he didn't want Percy of all people to tell him how much he'd grown. He didn't want anyone to tell him that, but from Percy, it felt like a double edged sword.

The older boy had been in Nico's life since he first emigrated from Italy, before his life had completely gone to shit. It wasn't a time he wanted to ever think about, but this conversation was doing a great job of reminding him.

He remembered being a relatively normal, happy kid when he first met Percy, and that kid idolized him, and that turned into an ill-advised crush. He couldn't stop, not even when his sister died, and he blamed Percy. He spent a long time in isolation, so long that he couldn't see it was self-inflicted. He became the creepy kid that no one wanted to hang out with. It took the combined efforts of Percy and Jason to realize that there were people in his life that didn't hate him no matter how much he pushed them away.

Now, he was terrified that they would take that progress with them when they left.

So he said, "Save it," and pushed past Percy back into the hallway, and when he picked up a section leader application, he told himself it was to make up for all the free time he would have when his friends graduated.

1 hour since

"Are you taking anatomy?" Will asked, a bit out of the blue. They'd been talking idly about the parade, mostly just discussing which freshmen threw up versus the ones they'd expected to. Apparently, none of the flutes got sick, but a bass drum player did, and a tenor sax player had to drop out from heat exhaustion. Surprisingly, the tenor sax was a senior.

"No," Nico said. "Why?" Anatomy was so ridiculously far from his interests that it was amazing he knew what the word meant.

"We have a test on Monday, and I need to study really bad," Will answered, eyeing Nico's body like it was a real life study guide, which, he supposed that in a way, it was.

He sighed, resigning himself to his fate. "Fine, but no touching." He'd learned early on in his friendships with Percy and Jason that setting up boundaries like that was important, and sometimes people weren't even offended by it.

Will's eyes lit up, and Nico barely concealed his grin. "Awesome! We're going over the skeletal system right now."

Okay, so apparently they were really doing this.

He turned to face Will. "How do you want me?"

"Lean down. I need to see your skull."

Nico pulled back. "Excuse me?"

Will was smirking. "I need to see your skull."

Never before had Nico been so self-conscious of an internal body structure. "Um, okay." He leaned down and vaguely felt Will look down at him.

"Frontal, temporals, occipital, parietals," he said, almost like a chant. "Zygomatics, mandible, maxillas, nasals. Then the palatial, ehtmoid, sthenoid, and vomer are in there somewhere."

"In there somewhere?" he said, alarmed. "Shouldn't you know where-"

"The clavicle is here-" Will pointed to the top of his shoulder, "-with the accromion side on the scapula and the sternal end by your neck. The scapula itself is right there, and it looks kinda like a fucked up wing. The humerus connects to the scapula at the glenoid fossa-"

And that's when Nico stopped listening. Who knew there were so many parts to the skeleton? Definitely not Nico, whose skeletal knowledge began and ended at 206 bones total. He didn't even know there were multiple bones in the skull.

Will pointed to his chest and said, "Ribs."

Nico frowned. "They're just called ribs?"

"Yeah," Will answered. "What did you think they were called?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I thought they'd have a more science-y name. Like," he paused, "costole or something."

For some reason, that made Will blush. "Was that Italian?"

It dawned on Nico then that most people didn't know he was an Italian immigrant...and that he was definitely about to tell Will that he was an Italian immigrant. "Yeah, I, uh. I'm actually from Italy."

"Really?"

Nico nodded, already regretting his brief moment of honesty. "What bones are next?"

Taking the hint (thank god), Will started listing bones again, and Nico let his eyes wander.

It seemed that everybody had settled down by now, hanging out on their phones or just talking. A couple people were asleep, and there was even a group playing catch with somebody's hat. The junior color guard members were practicing with their equipment that couldn't fit in the instrument truck: tossing flags, spinning rifles, twirling batons. It was a wild sea of bright orange band t-shirts, and Nico kinda loved it, though he'd never admit that to anyone.

The orange band shirts were broken up by the purple and orange uniforms that a few shivering souls had donned in a futile attempt to stay warm. It wouldn't work; those ugly things didn't retain anything but sweat.

Under that, most everybody was wearing sweatpants or leggings with the unfortunate few stuck in jeans and even shorts. Rookie mistake. In cold weather, sweatpants and leggings were the only tolerable pants to wear under the marching band uniform, a lesson Nico learned the hard way while marching a football game in freshman year. The chafing, lack of mobility, and feeling of skin tight denim tucked into knee high, thick black socks was not worth the aesthetic. He himself was wearing black sweatpants, and Will was wearing dark gray joggers with - no way.

"Are you wearing flip flops?" The slim, navy blue shoes weren't doing anything to hide the other boy's surprisingly tan feet - he must wear them outside a lot, definitely enough to maintain the light brown color past summer.

Will glanced up from where he was studying the (apparently) multiple bones of the ankle. "They're comfortable," he said defensively.

Nico couldn't argue with that. His own three year old black Converse were ripping at the seams and covered in scribbles. At least his toes were covered, though. "Aren't your feet cold?"

Somehow, Will's cheeks turned even redder. "I don't really get cold."

"I-" he started. "How?" It probably said more about him than Will, but Nico regularly wore pants and hoodies in June. Even now, he was shivering slightly.

The red stopped spreading in Will's cheeks. "For starters, I'm not malnourished."

Nico's dropped. "I'm not malnourished!"

Infuriatingly, the blond gave Nico an appraising look. "Whatever you say."

Okay. Okay, so maybe he was a little skinny, and maybe most of his friends thought he had an eating disorder. But no matter how bad he seemed right now, he was doing better than he was 5 years ago, so Solace could fuck right off.

There was a little nagging voice in the back of his head saying, "He'll never know that if you don't tell him." It sounded like Jason. He ignored it.

Will got up and moved to Nico's side, clearly trying to change the subject. He pointed at the black-haired boy's spine. "Then the 7 cervical vertebrae with the atlas and axis on top, the 12 thoracic, 5 lumbar, and the sacrum ending in the coccyx. That's your back, and that's all the bones and bone parts I need to know."

Nico blinked. That did not seem like 206. "Okay." They just looked at each other, unsure what to do next.

Then, Nico remembered what Will said about his siblings and thought that maybe he could try some honesty, so he cleared his throat and attempted to fabricate some courage. "Hey, what you said earlier about your siblings being some of your best friends?" Will's eyebrows furrowed, obviously unsure where Nico was going with this. He plowed ahead anyway. "All of my friends are either my sister, my cousins, or  their partners, so I think you can count your siblings as your friends."

Will continued to look confused. Then, he smiled. "Thanks. That actually does make me feel less pathetic."

"No problem." If anyone could make others feel better about themselves by being an absolutely wet cat, it was Nico.

"Does that mean Percy and Jason are your cousins?" Will asked innocently.

Oh. Nico probably should've seen that coming. "Yeah."

"Cool," Will continued, completely unaware of the minefield he'd just stepped into. "It must've been really nice seeing Percy and Annabeth today, then."

"It was precious," he bit out. "Hey, why don't we go do our duties as section leaders and check on people?"

"You wanna go talk to people?" Will asked, disbelieving. Nico couldn't decide if it was more insulting that Will had already clocked his fierce antisocial nature, or that he was so easy to read that a boy he'd barely conversed with outside of the last hour could tell he was lying.

"Yep."

Will gave Nico side eye but rose. "Let's go."

2 months before

"Good morning," Chiron said to the obvious displeasure of the entire band room. It was exactly 8:03 a.m. on a Thursday in July, and everybody in the room had exactly two things in common: none of them wanted to be there, and all of them had better things to do.

Sleep, mostly, Nico thought as he yawned. When Hazel had burst into the room an hour ago and forced him to get up, he'd nearly thrown his phone at her. (And he definitely would have if he hadn't been trying to turn off his alarm without getting out from under the blanket.) He'd managed to rouse himself, though, and valiantly make it here on time. He really should get a medal for that.

"Welcome to marching band. I know most of you know me, but for anyone who might be new, my name is Chiron, and I'm your band director. Mr. D, the assistant director, is around here somewhere." Chiron looked around as if that would help him find Mr. D. "Well, I'm sure you'll see him sooner or later." Fat chance. "If you look on the folder that was on your seat when you came in, it should have your name, instrument, part, and a barcode. Inside the folder, there should be 13 half sheets of music and one warmup packet as well as a schedule and sets for the first song. If anything is missing, let your section leader know right after this."

Well, shit, he thought. That's me. No matter. He already knew nothing was missing because he and the other section leaders spent three hours the day before stuffing those bastards themselves.

"Speaking of section leaders," Chiron said, and Nico had barely enough time to think of a few choice words as he remembered what came next, "I think it's time to introduce them. Now, your section leaders are very important. If anything is wrong or you have a question or are confused about anything, you go to them first, then a drum major, then me or Mr. D." Slick bastard. It had never occurred to him how that system kept freshmen from ever talking to Mr. D. "Drum majors first. Reyna and Jason, please stand and tell everyone a little bit about yourselves."

On either side of Chiron, Reyna and Jason rose from their chairs, maces already in hand. Reyna went first. "Hi! I'm Reyna."

"Hi, Reyna," the band echoed in a poor imitation of an AA meeting, because some traditions just never died, no matter how insensitive and unfunny they got.

"I'm a senior, and this is my second year as drum major. I play French horn in indoor season, and I did color guard my first two years in marching band." She had a very serious look on her face, the one that would end up scaring most kids into never asking her anything. They were lucky this year to have Jason because the year before with Reyna and Annabeth? Everybody was constantly confused and had no idea what was going on.

Jason waved. "Hi, I'm Jason."

"Hi, Jason."

"I'm a senior, and this is my first year as drum major. I play trumpet in indoor season and was section leader for two years." He looked over at Chiron. "Am I supposed to say anything else?"

The older man shook his head. "No. Actually, everybody should say less. We want to get on the field before it's too hot or some sport steals it. Flutes, you go."

Piper stood from her door at the very front of the band. "Hi, I'm Piper."

"Hi, Piper."

"I'm a senior. I play a variety of instruments, and this is my third year as section leader."

She sat down, and Will Solace stood up, blond hair as shiny as ever. "I'm Will, flute and piccolo. I'm a junior, and this is my first year as section leader."

The introductions continued for a while, all some variation of that, and Nico tuned it out, instead focusing on controlling his pounding heart as it got closer and closer to his turn.

It wasn't that he was nervous or hated public speaking that much. He was just an introvert. Yeah, that was it.

Then it was Hazel's turn. "Hi, I'm Hazel!"

"Hi, Hazel."

"I'm a sophomore, and this is my first year as a low brass section leader." She sat down.

Groaning internally as his heart attempted to bust his rib cage and bounce out into his open trombone case at his feet, Nico rose. "I'm Nico-" if the band repeated his name back at him in a depressed monotone voice, he would actually vomit "-, I'm a junior, and this is my first year as low brass section leader." He sat back down gratefully, already considering the benefits of giving up his new role. A cursory glance around the room told him that Jason, Hazel, Reyna, and Piper were all giving him thumbs up. Kill him now.

Introductions continued, though without Nico's attention, and they finally got to warmups. That was four pages of basic exercises that they normally did on the field, but Chiron was giving the freshmen a little treat this morning.

Once they were done, Chiron told everyone to start making their way to the practice field, so Nico stood, stuffing his rolled up manila envelope in his back pocket. Somebody tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see a little girl (Wow, freshmen were small. Were they always that small?) (The answer was yes.) with chunky black cornrows pulled back into a ponytail (He felt like he should get points for recognizing cornrows and ponytails even if Hazel was the one who taught him what they looked like.) holding a trombone.

"Excuse me-" she paused, looking unsure, "-Mr. Nico, where is the practice field?"

He laughed internally at anyone calling him Mister, and heard from behind him Hazel giggle as well. Then, when he processed her question, he nearly said, "Just follow the rest of the band," but remembered at the last second that he was in charge of this girl and if she got lost, he would be liable, and instead said, "It's behind the high school." When she continued to look confused, he said, "You can follow me," and mentally resigned himself to this kid becoming his duckling for the day. "Oh, and you can just call me Nico."

She beamed, and her braids bounced. There was no way she was even five feet tall. "Thank you!" she said. "My name is Macy."

He nodded, and they walked out the side door of the band, down the history hallway stairs and out the back door which opened into the student parking lot. He could see Jason's red Jeep from here, the car he'd ridden to school in. Including himself, Jason was driving five people to school, Nico, Hazel, Piper, and Leo despite all but one of them being over 16. Nico could definitely acquire a car if he had his license, but he wasn't ready to learn how to drive, and Piper refused to ask her dad for anything, so she was saving up to buy a used one. Leo just couldn't afford one. If he ever got one, it would probably be one he built himself. As for Jason, his dad bought him one for his 16th birthday (a week late because the man was an absentee ass). Thus, the Jason mobile.

They followed the curve through the back lot and reached the stairs leading down to the field.

A word about the field. It was basically a soggy pit that flooded regularly from dew, surface runoff, and the creek at its back border. Because it was so wet, the yard lines were almost never marked down, which made sets fun. The only sport that was brave enough to use it was soccer, and that was only when the actual field was unavailable. Right now, at 8:30 a.m., Nico could already see dew drops glistening on the green grass. Fabulous.

They walked down the stairs behind some trumpets and set their instruments down on the padded section for the shot put practice thingy since the first day of band camp was purely for introducing the freshmen to marching band.

Macy looked at him again. "How do you mark time?"

Nico blinked, unsure where she had heard that phrase already. That was something they were supposed to learn in fundies with one of the drum majors, and he was perfectly fine with that. He didn't want to teach these kids anything more than he absolutely had to. Then he remembered the section leader meeting yesterday.

We all have some big shoes to fill, Reyna had said, looking mainly at Jason and Leo, a certain blonde and black-haired pairs' successors.

Annabeth and Percy, Percy and Annabeth. Always those two. Even after they'd graduated, he couldn't go 10 minutes without hearing them mentioned. They were practically legends at this point. Everybody knew them, but nobody could be them. Fuck that.

He'd fill the damn shoes, alright. For himself and the band, he'd try. But he couldn't do it like them. He'd do it his own way.

Macy was still looking at him expectantly when he turned back around, and he stepped forward to the front of his section. "Okay, low brass freshmen, look up here 'cause I'm not doing this again." When all the low brass that he was pretty sure were freshmen were looking at him, he set his feet in position and said, "This is how you mark time."

2.5 hours since

They only ended up checking in with about half the juniors before sitting back down in their parking spot since they couldn't get past the color guard without getting hit with something. The people they did talk to seemed to be fine, though, so they didn't feel too bad about it, and Mrs. Knowles announced that a bus was on its way, fortunately. It was also around this time that some parents started arriving to take their kids home because they were just too impatient to wait apparently.

As they sat down, Will's stomach grumbled, and Nico realized he was pretty hungry, too. "I'm starving," Will said. "Think they'd order us some food?"

Nico raised an eyebrow. "You mean the same organization that has to reuse tape?"

Will snorted. "Yeah, I guess not."

Suddenly, Nico had an idea. "What's your McDonald's order?"

"What? Why?"

Nico already had his phone in his hand and the GrubHub app open. "I'm gonna order McDonald's." The band may not have been able to send food to them, but there was nothing stopping them from ordering stuff.

The blond boy must have seen Nico open GrubHub because he didn't ask how he was gonna get the food to them. "You're really gonna pay for McDonald's to be delivered to the middle of nowhere?"

"Hell, no," Nico said as he inputted his Happy Meal order. "My dad is."

"And he's ok with that?"

"Yep." Nico's dad was attempting to make up for 13 years of absentee parenting by giving his remaining two children free range of his credit cards. "Order whatever you want."

Will still looked unsure. "That's so unhealthy."

Nico did finally look up at that. "You some kinda health nut?" With his cut features and lean muscles, it wouldn't really surprise Nico if Will did turn out to be into those meticulous health plans, but he really hoped he wasn't.

Will hesitated, then shrugged. "I'll take a ten piece chicken McNugget and a Diet Coke."

Nico nodded. "You're getting an Oreo McFlurry, too."

"If you insist."

Nico looked around to find the rest stop number and highway sign, then hit submit. "Our order will be here in 17 minutes."

Well. He supposed it was called fast food for a reason.

Just as he was wondering what they were supposed to do for the next 17 minutes, Will asked, "Do you wanna play my piccolo?" Then, probably upon seeing Nico's face, said, "That's not a euphemism. It's in my uniform bag."

Nico just nodded.

"Cool." Then, Nico got to watch Will put his piccolo together (all two parts). His own trombone was probably back in the band room after taking the storage truck home. Lucky bastard.

Will handed Nico the delicate instrument. "Here, you hold it like this." He rearranged Nico's fingers so that they were positioned correctly, left hand in front and right hand in back. "Now hold down your left index finger and right pinky." Nico did as he was told. "Try and blow into the mouthpiece."

The mouthpiece on a piccolo was far different from the mouthpiece on a trombone. For starters, on the piccolo, you don't put your mouth directly on the embouchure hole, which is exactly what Nico did, and the sound he produced consequently was more of a breathy exhale than anything else.

"Blow over it, not right into it," Will said, already laughing.

Nico glared at him but tried again. Apparently, when one played piccolo, one also had to be careful not to blow too hard because that produced a squeak akin to Annabeth when she saw a spider.

Several heads turned in their direction, and Nico was brutally reminded of the first time he'd ever seen Will. He's been learning piccolo then, too, and had made roughly the sound Nico just did.

"Gently," Will said, still laughing. Nico did his best to follow Will's instructions, and when he blew this time, nothing happened at all.

"You're such a brass player," Will critiqued, eyes full of mirth. "You're trying to buzz. Just blow gently."

Frustrated, Nico thrust the small instrument back at Will. "Show me, then, if you're so good at it."

Will smirked. "I will." As soon as he put the metal tube up to his embouchure, Nico knew he'd lost the argument in more ways than one.

Slim fingers danced over the keys, producing a beautiful stream of trills, grace notes, and crescendos, and decrescendos that he recognized as "Killer Queen", and his lips-

Well. Best not to think about those.

As he played, Nico realized that he vaguely remembered from two years ago, someone said that some flute was the first freshmen at Olympus in 5 years to make state. At the time, he hadn't cared one bit, still overwhelmed by switching schools and the permanent move into his dad's house, but he wondered now if that flute player was Will.

When the song ended, he set the piccolo down, and Nico almost asked him to play another one.

Instead, he said, "Damn, Solace," and got to watch Will's ears turn red. "There's no way I'm trying again after that."

Will disassembled the piccolo and put it back into the case, zipping it into his uniform bag with his shoes and gloves. "Everybody's gotta start somewhere."

Not after that, I don't, Nico thought. "I'll just stick to the trombone." Shockingly, failing to play the piccolo did not dishearten him in the slightest. Then, he did something very uncharacteristic of himself. He voluntarily continued the conversation. "Are you really into music?"

If Hazel were there she probably would have chided him on asking a judgy sounding question, but to Nico it was relevant. In his experience, there were three types of band kids: those who were only in it for the credits, those who were in it for the atmosphere, and those who actually cared about music. Nico tended to bounce between the last two categories depending on the day (and the music) as did most people. He'd always assumed Will was the same.

But the blond was shaking his head. "Not really, no. I mostly just do it because of my parents. They're both really into music." Then, quieter, "I wanna be a doctor."

Nico frowned, wondering why it sounded like he was telling Nico some big secret. "Do they not approve of doctors?"

Will laughed. "Oh, no, they'd actually love that idea. I just haven't told them yet because they'd get insane about it."

Nico supposed that made sense, but he also had no idea what he wanted to do with his life and was relatively new to having a living parent that cared, so he just said, "Good luck in med school."

"Thanks." Will was quiet for a moment. "Do you have any idea what you want to do?"

Nico could have laughed at how perfectly timed that question was. "No."

Will shrugged. "Well, we're only juniors."

He tried, he really did, but he couldn't just not respond to that. "You sound like every other person who's ever asked me that."

"What else am I supposed to say?" he asked incredulously, waving a hand around. "It's true!"

Nico was saved from responding by their food arriving. He tapped Will on the ankle. "Get up. We gotta get our food before someone else tries to take it."

Turning to look at the highway, Will began to rise, and all the eyes in the parking lot that were latched onto the GrubHub sign suddenly turned to them. The jealous face nearest to them asked, "Is that for you?"

Nico smirked. "Yep." Then, he walked away, toward the entrance to the rest stop. Luckily, their bus was the only vehicle parked here, so their delivery person was able to park right at the front, keeping them from the majority of the other students. Even so, a brown haired girl wearing jean shorts under her band t-shirt (how?) walked over with a red haired boy in black leggings.

The car window rolled open, revealing short blue hair and a pale, round face. "Happy Meal and 10-piece for Nico?"

He stepped forward. "That's me."

Rather than hand him the bag, the delivery person flicked their eyes between the four teens. "I'm gonna have to see some ID."

"Seriously?" Nico said. "No one else is pretending to be me."

"C'mon, man. I don't wanna drive back out here if you're not the right person."

"Fine," he grumbled, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. "Here."

The driver glanced at his license, then shrugged. "Alright. Here you go." They handed over the takeout bag, and Nico gave them a five.

Before they could roll up the window, the brunette leaned on the driver's door and said, "I'll Venmo you 65 bucks to take us home right now."

"No." They started rolling up the window.

"Wait! That's 5 more dollars than you'll make driving around for minimum wage!"

Shockingly, they pulled out of the parking lot anyway.

13 hours before

"Who's the best band?" Jason and Reyna yelled at the top of their lungs, lifting their newest first place trophy above their heads.

"OLYMPUS!" 150 people shrieked back, and for that moment, Nico forgot that this was his last year with most of his friends. Everyone was hyped up on their win and the energy from a college homecoming that nothing else seemed to matter or even exist. For that moment, it was just them and the trophy.

Then, Chiron broke into the middle of the circle and clapped his hands. "Alright, everybody, the buses are here! Time to go home."

All too soon, everything else trickled in, and Nico remembered where they were. The NRU campus was crawling with people from various high schools across the state, NRU students, people living in the surrounding city that wanted to be part of something, and alumni, and Percy and Annabeth had barely been able to spare two minutes to talk to them. He could not think about that for a little while longer, though, just like he could ignore the creeping dread of going home alone.

After packing his trombone into the cargo truck, he filed onto the junior bus, definitely not feeling anything when all of his friends went onto the senior and sophomore buses.

4 hours since

Back in their parking spot (and what a wild focal point for this wild day, huh?), Nico and Will had a pretty impressive spread going. McFlurries to dip their fries in, many and multiple kinds of sauces, two Diet Cokes, Will's nuggets, Nico's burger, and Nico's new Mythomagic hellhound figurine? The looks they were getting from the remaining students were full of jealousy, Nico could tell.

"Thanks for this," Will said through a mouthful of french fry.

Nico waved him away. "It's no problem, seriously. My dad technically bought all of it."

Will's brow furrowed. "What does he do that he doesn't care if you spend-" he paused, counting. "-$20 on some of the most unhealthy food in the world?"

Nico shoved a French fry in his mouth. "He owns a chain of funeral homes."

Will's eyes widened. "Really?"

Nico nodded. "Yeah, Elysium Funeral Homes. You'd be surprised how much money there is in that business."

"How much money do y'all have?" Will asked, sounding skeptical. Nico looked forward to blowing his mind.

"He's a multimillionaire."

"What?"

Nico just nodded, enjoying the astonishment on Will's face. "Told you."

"You really expect me to believe your dad is that rich just from owning some funeral homes?" The other boy would have been more convincing if his voice wasn't wavering.

Messing with Will was fun, but Nico figured he should let him go now. "I'm sure the $500 million inheritance from my grandparents helped."

Will gasped, making Nico laugh, and the blond threw a fry at him. "You couldn't have said that from the start?"

Still laughing, Nico shook his head. "You should have seen your face."

"Jerk," Will said, though he was smiling. "What the hell did your grandparents do?"

"Oh, you know," Nico waved his hand vaguely. "Stuff."

"You have no idea, do you?"

"No clue," Nico admitted. "They died before I was born and nobody ever explained it to me."

"Really? Does Hazel or one of your cousins know?"

Nico shook his head. "I doubt it. They died when Thalia was a year old." And none of us have any discernible relationship with our fathers, he didn't say, so it's not like we can ask them. "All I know is that they were filthy rich, and somehow, my dad got the smallest cut."

"Smallest cut?"

"Yep." If he thought $500 million was a lot of money, Nico couldn't wait to tell him how much Uncle Zeus was worth. Before Will could ask about his mom, he said, "What about your parents? You said they're into music, right?"

"Yeah," Will said. "My mom's a country singer. You actually may have heard of her, Naomi Solace, from Texas."

Country was definitely not his genre, so Nico just nodded, pretending to know who Will was talking about. He'd google her later.

"Then my dad, Apollo, made a bunch of money off ad jingles 17 years ago, the two of them met, made me, and she's on tour somewhere in Nebraska, and he's somewhere in Western Africa working with Doctors Without Borders."

"Oh," Nico blinked. He hadn't known...any of that. Had he really been going through that this whole time? He said the only thing he could think of: "That sucks."

Will laughed humorlessly. "I guess. Dad's a bit of a slut, though, so I've got a bunch of siblings. I'm not lonely."

Nico stared. "Good, that makes me feel so much better."

Will just shrugged.

Gradually, a fragment of a memory tickled the back of Nico's mind, and he tried to shut it down before it fully formed. Despite his efforts, he remembered hearing his dad talk about a memorial for a teenager that passed through his company a few years ago, before he was permanently living with Hades. The kid was 16, the same age as Nico was now. Nico didn't remember a lot about him, but he did remember the dad's name, Apollo with no last name, because it was so weird, and that he had a ton of half-siblings. His dad had been stressed about it since the father was semi-famous.

Now, Nico wasn't sure what to do. It was so awkward knowing something about someone else that they hadn't told you, especially something so deep and personal. He wasn't sure how to proceed. Did he say something? Try to offer comfort?

Unsure, Nico took a second to study Will. It had happened years ago, before they'd ever met, so it wasn't like Will would expect him to know anything or treat him differently. Besides, if Will were still grieving, surely he wouldn't be so well adjusted?

No, that wasn't the right word. He wouldn't be so laid-back. Nico certainly wasn't.

Hold on. For better or worse, this was actually a topic Nico knew about, a situation he'd actually been in multiple times. With that thought in mind, he tried to think about what he'd want if their roles were reversed.

Yeah, he definitely would not want it to be mentioned. He wouldn't want to forget about her or pretend she never existed, but with some guy he'd only been talking to for a few hours that doesn't even know about her? He'd definitely rather stay away from the topic.

But, he had been so much younger when she died and so dependent on her. Nico had no idea what Will's situation had been. Were he and his brother even close? He mentioned that he had a lot of siblings and that he was close to some of them. Was Michael one? How did one even ask that? "Hey, were you your brother close before died? Also, I know you have a dead brother." Yeah, no.

Finally, he settled on an option that would reveal neither of their dead siblings but might still be considered socially on topic. "Hey, I get it. I didn't even meet my dad until I was 10."

Will glanced over at him. "Wait, for real?"

"Yeah, it was after-" he paused. How to explain this without talking about Bianca and ruining the pleasant atmosphere they'd created by pitching himself into a depressive spiral? Then again, if he opened up about her, that could incite Will to talk about Michael, and then Nico could pretend he was just finding out.

Okay, so maybe not the best idea. He restarted. "Something happened, and he ended up with full custody of me. Instead of caring, he stuck me in various boarding schools until he found out about Hazel. Now, I see him at least once a week." That was the nice version of events, the one that didn't make him want to deconstruct his own skeleton and burn it.

Will hesitates, then opened his mouth, and Nico silently prayed he wasn't about to offer an empty apology or a hollow assurance. "That sucks," he said.

Nico snorted in surprise at hearing his own words. "Yeah, it does."

They sat in silence for a moment, processing. This was probably the closest Nico had come to talking about or even mentioning his sister in years without having a meltdown afterward. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Instead of dealing with it, he gathered their McDonald's trash and stood. "I'm gonna throw this stuff away. Watch my uniform please."

Will gave a thumbs up, and Nico walked towards the big brick restroom where the trash cans were.

On the way there, he contemplated what it might be like to finally talk about - his breath caught - Bianca. Beyond that, he thought about telling Will about her. He'd avoided the topic of family for so long that it had begun to feel less real and more of a concept that didn't apply to him. His cousins and Hazel were his best friends more than they were family. His dad was more of a guardian than a father. There was no one else, and none of the people close to him ever tried to bring up Bianca unless they were trying to get him to talk about feelings which never went well for any party involved.

So was he really considering doing it himself? After the last few hours, he supposed it wasn't impossible. He'd already told Will more about his home life than he'd ever told another person. Besides, wasn't everybody always telling him that sharing his feelings would be good for him? Sure, he was a little jittery, a little nauseated, but he was also lighter, like just sharing the little bit he did and receiving validation instead of pity released some of the pressure that had been stuck in him for six years. How much lighter would he feel if he released it all?

The thought scared him. He'd lived with it for this long; who was he without it?

Nico reached the trash cans and threw the McDonald's bag in then went to wash the grease off his hands. While there, he decided to go to the bathroom since the bus would be there soon.

Locking himself into a stall, he heard two sets of footsteps enter and loud laughter.

"Yeah, I saw it," one of them said. "Freaky if you ask me."

"I know," said the other one. "That guy's so weird. I never understood why Percy hung out with him."

Nico's blood ran cold.

"Beats me," the first one said. "I heard Octavian bet Solace his spot as section leader that he couldn't get di Angelo to talk to him."

"Damn, that's so bad."

"I know, right? I can't believe it worked."

The two kept talking until they left the bathroom, but Nico's ears were ringing.

After all this time, he was really still just the creepy kid who no one wanted to talk to, living in Percy's shadow. Worse, everything Will said had been a joke. A tactic to keep his spot.

Nico wheezed, pulling on the collar of his shirt. He fumbled with the stall door lock and stumbled over to a sink, trying to breathe.

A deep voice cut through his daze. "Jesus, what did you get from McDonald's?"

He looked over to the boy at the sink next to him. It was just some random kid, no one he even knew. Was that his fault? Should he know this brown haired, brown eyed kid's name? He never even tried to get to know his classmates. Not once. He always felt like he didn't need them, that they could never understand him. This day felt like proof that he was right. They didn't care, they didn't know him. They just wanted to make fun of the weird kid.

He must've been glaring because the brunet held up his hands and backed away until Nico was alone again. Like usual.

He looked in the mirror. The same kid he always saw was staring back: dark hair curling beneath his ears, dark circles under his darker eyes, freckles spread across his pale cheeks.

He hadn't changed. The world hadn't changed. Everything was still the same. He was so stupid, thinking anything was different just because he opened up slightly to some random person who apparently didn't care about him at all.

He couldn't believe he'd considered telling him about Bianca, that they might have something in common that would help them understand each other. Will probably wasn't even Michael Yew's brother.

You know what, he thought, this is stupid. He watched his reflection straighten his spine, angry resolve piercing through his eyes. Nothing was different. He could just go back to where he was when the bus broke down.

Panicking about losing Jason was infinitely better than panicking about losing something he never had.

He walked back outside and was met with a second school bus, kids crowded around it. He almost joined them before realizing Will still had his uniform bag.

Actually, he didn't need it. Someone else would find it and turn it in with minimal hazing when he accepted it in front of the band with the other kids who lost their stuff.  

Of course, that was when Will popped up beside him. "Hey, you ready to go home?"

Nico stared at him, trying to find malice in his bright face. Suddenly exhausted, he decided not to waste his energy. "You don't have to pretend anymore. I know about the bet."

Will has the gall to look confused. "What bet?"

"The one with Octavian. Don't act like you don't know." Nico snatched his uniform bag out of Will's hand. "And don't sit next to me. Figlio di puttana."

He stormed away and onto the bus, settling into the first open seat toward the front of the bus. He let his uniform bag pool on the seat so that no one sat down next to him, then he pulled his knees up to his chest and tried not to cry.

#solangelo #solangelo fic #nico di angelo #will solace #percy jackson #will x nico #nico x will #jason grace #my writing #fanfic #my fic #pjo #my fanfic #fluff #solangelo fluff #ficlet #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #pjo fic #pjoverse #tsats #future fic #marching band #marching band au #angst #heavy angst #solangelo angst

[littleliquor]

When Daylight Fades (pt. 5)

Note: I’m still in the process of merging my plot to the original plot. It’s quite a challenge because I’m still trying to find a way to kind of alter the original plot without completely setting its direction astray. But I’m heading there. HOWEVER, though I have a good idea of how the story ends, it could either be a happy ending or a sad ending and I haven’t decided between them, yet. 

Background: Reader ran into Wednesday’s visit to Weathervane while receiving a deeply upsetting news that brought her to the verge of losing control. After the exhausting attempt to regain control, reader sought comfort from Tyler. The reader’s own history and trauma slowly unravelled as the story proceeds.  

Warning: light fluff (once again, I stopped right where it’s supposed to stop because I’m about as bad as a first time parent talking to their kid about the bird and the bee)

Part 1  Part 2   Part 3  Part 4  Part 6  Part 7

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I took a short detour into the town of Jericho for my usual afternoon coffee. Indulging in Weathervane’s over-roasted coffee scent had become a part of my everyday routine. I would sit for an hour, waiting for the end of Tyler’s shift. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my new classmate’s haste entrance into the cafe. Wednesday took no time to quickly spewed out her order to Tyler. Right in the untimely malfunction of the espresso machine.

“A quad over ice. It’s an emergency.” 

Before I could make a decision on whether or not to strike a decent conversation with Wednesday, my phone rang. 

Margery Calling… 

I picked up the phone, expecting the bright voice of the young apprentice. Instead, I was greeted by the low, clear voice of the Supreme herself. 

“Y/N…” 

“Just because I’m not picking up your calls, doesn’t mean you should call me on Marge’s number.” I interrupted her sentence with as much hint of annoyance as I could possible give out. 

“That’s not why I’m calling. Marge is dead.” Joy delivered the worst news I’d heard in the entire day. Without saying a word, my first instinct was to run outside of Weathervane. An overwhelming mixture of emotions engulfed the entirety of my mind, confusion, sorrow, rage… 

“How?” I rubbed my thumb over the nail on my middle finger, trying desperately to distract myself. That was when I realized my hands were shaking. A soft light glow bleed from my index uncontrollably. I shoved my hand inside my pocket frantically, hoping no one would catch my hysteria. 

Marge was only an apprentice, far too weak to wield her power fully. It was a little harsh of me to say it but she was an easy target. She was kind, perhaps too kind for her own good. I found her passionate, bright perspective with others to be annoying, but she could’ve been so much more. Marge didn’t deserve this. 

“Steel bullet to the heart. Apparently, she was tied down with a chain before her killer shot her.” Joy said, solemn and stern. Deep down, I knew she was worried about another witch hunt. It would be the worst nightmare for a lot of us. 

“Cowards.” I pursed my lips, trying my hardest to keep my voice from cracking. 

The killing of a wielder using steel chains and bullets was not a spontaneous murder. It was a deliberate, well-planned murder most often seen among witch hunters. With our information all over the internet, we had become more vulnerable than ever. 

A loud thudding noise from the cafe brought my attention back to the surroundings. As I turned back to the glasses, I caught the glimpse of Wednesday’s impressive stunt to take down three teenage bullies two times her own size. 

“Be careful out there, Y/N… I’m worried for all of us.” Joy took a deep breath. “Promise me you won’t go looking for whoever killed her.” 

“Joy, you need to warn everybody and fortify the Coven…” Before I could continue, I saw Tyler walking out of Weathervane towards me. “I need to go now. Later.” 

I slipped my phone back inside my coat hurriedly. The world of witches and warlocks were a more complicated and dangerous than people imagined. Tyler’s Hyde identity had brought enough on his plate already. He shouldn’t have to deal with my issues as well. 

“Hey, you don’t look so well. What happened?” Tyler pressed his finger gently in between my eyebrows. I noticed I’d been frowning the whole time. 

“It’s nothing really. Just some… family business.” I tried to smile at him. Somehow I made myself looking more nervous to him. 

“I’m off in a moment. Do you want to go get a burger and talk about it?” Tyler brushed his hands on his apron, asking carefully. 

My heart was racing but it wasn’t because of him. The chaos was slipping out of my control as my panic took over. It was screaming in every drop of blood that ran through my veins, enraging, threatening to burst out from my pores. 

“I… I actually need to tend to something. I’ll meet you back at your house, okay?” I left him a light kiss on the cheek and ran off to the woods separating Nevermore and Jericho on my foot. 

I sprinted through the wood full speed ahead. The rustling of the trees and the whistling of the wind accompanied my every hurried steps. It was sharp and loud. I couldn’t keep track of how long I’d been running but I didn’t stop until my lungs began to give out… or until I tripped over the long stretch of a tree’s exposing root. 

I knelt down on the ground, all fours pressing over it. The air was treacherous with a cold danger somewhere. But at this very moment, at least, I was all alone. The red glow that had showed its sheer presence before had grew stronger with a bright red color, now leaking through my whole body. 

I wished I could pretend that the death of my Coven member meant nothing to me. Reality was that it had brought back all the memories that I’d die to forget. My mother’s scream in the town square in the middle of the night, my sister’s cry as the flame from the pyre beneath them consumed them whole. Starting from the fabric of their dresses, until their voices stopped. 

They’d taken away my family once… They’d do it again… 

With a deafening scream, the glow swept through the woods around me in a violent storm. I managed to minimize the scope of its explosion at the last second, but the poor trees standing meters from me had all been turned to dust, drizzling in air like they never existed. 

I struggled to pick myself up from the ground while containing the chaos under my hold. I had always suspected that this youthful flesh was not enough to keep all the chaos under control. I only hoped it will ease up as I grow older. After the cathartic explosion, it felt as if I had exhausted my body. Every step seemed to be heavier and heavier. I dragged my legs towards Tyler’s house slowly. 

It was almost past midnight when I reached the Galpins’ front porch. Sheriff Galpin was out of sight, again. He took the truck with him. I lowered my entire body in utter lassitude, slamming my entire hand on the doorbell. As the door opened, I laid all of my body weight over Tyler, holding onto him by his shirt. Before he could tell a word, I pressed my lips over his in an ardent kiss, breathing in his scent until it filled my lungs and my mind.  

Tyler’s hands crawled along my spine to the back of my head, holding me even closer to him. With a small opening of his lips, I slipped my tongue into his mouth, enjoying, but not satiated by his reciprocation. I couldn’t stop myself from the intoxicating taste of him. I pulled away for a gasp of air, but he immediately caught up to me. It wasn’t enough. I wanted more, a lot more. With a soft moan leaving his mouth, we stumbled into his bedroom. @sarcastic-sourwolf​ @snips-501​ @gayandfairycore @o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o​​​​

#tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin #tyler x reader #wednesday #netflix #when daylight fades

[ernmark]

At work I forgot to ask somebody's name so I could include it in a report I need to write.

The reasonable thing to do would be to email her supervisor asking the name of the person scheduled to work that particular shift (and hope that her supervisor actually gets back to me this week, if at all).

Instead I dug into the site where we file day-to-day information, got the names of everybody assigned to that location, ruled out all the names that suggested a gender or ethnicity she didn't share, then cross-referenced the remaining names against the initials* that had been signed on the logs during that shift.

Let's be real, I'd rather do detective work than actually try to chase down my coworkers for a straight answer.

(* I used to be the one who assigned initials to the new hires in the state. It's a decently-sized company with a lot of turnover, but for whatever asinine reason, no two people can have the same 3-character initials, and I was never actually given a middle name even for employees who had them. Which means that a lot of times I wound up having to assign designated initials with little add-ins like numerals, X and Q, dipping into some downright eldrich combinations when those ran out. Initials are a hint at identity, but not a reliable one.)

[endless-season]

5th Anniversary Livestream - Puppet Skit

You can watch the livestream recording here!

The Puppet skit is around 1:05:00 - 1:23:00

Host: Good evening everybody and welcome to Kitchen Battle! Tonight is the anniversary of Loveland TV and also the 5th anniversary special edition of Kitchen Battle! And so, today we’ve invited five popular guests to our studio to join us in celebrating the 5th anniversary and also cook us up a surprise!

Host: Without further ado, please welcome our guests, the Outstanding Talents of Loveland City

Host: The Expert Food Critic – Kiro!

Kiro: My food judging skills are as good as my singing!

Kiro: Although last time when I was on a gourmet food variety show there were some… minor accidents… Tonight I’ll definitely show everyone my true cooking skills!

Host: *nervous laugh* Ok!

Host (away from mic): Could all staff please ensure that Kiro stays away from any open flames and knives to ensure safety and avoid any risks to the studio.

Host: Please welcome our next guest - Taste Adventurer, Gavin!

Gavin: I’ll create impossible dishes out of readymade ingredients.

Gavin: No matter what happens next, I’ll accomplish this mission without a hitch.

Host: We’re just cooking, no need to be so tense… In any case, Officer Gavin please take your place.

Host: Please welcome our next guest – The Greatest Cookbook, Lucien!

Lucien: I’ve already spent 3 days 8 hours and 21 minutes memorizing all the recipes online.

Lucien: By researching and analysing the experiences of our predecessors and their unique recipes, we can quickly master the secrets of the kitchen.

Host: It seems Professor Lucien’s already done some theoretical work before coming to the studio! Thanks for coming Professor Lucien.

Host: Please welcome our next guest – The Ultimate Chef, Victor!

Victor: I won’t let these ingredient down.

Victor: Chef? This particular title should not be one used in a general setting. My assistant will be contacting you later to investigate the source of this information.

Host: Uh... ok Mr Victor.

Host: Please welcome our final guest - Food Tyrant, Shaw!

Shaw: Yo boss, get me one of everything on the menu to try.

Shaw: Hurry up already, I’m hungry from all this waiting.

Host: Ok! All five of our guests are here! Welcome all!

Host: First, if you could all introduce yourselves.

Kiro: Hello everyone! I’m Kiro, a well-known foodie of Loveland. Tonight I’ll definitely bring you all an incomparably delicious dish!

Gavin: I’m Gavin. I don’t usually cook, but I’ll try my best tonight.

Lucien: Hello, I’m Lucien. I believe facing an unfamiliar cuisine is just like facing an experiment with unknown results. Looking forward to a pleasant surprise.

Victor: I’m Victor. I’m sure everyone can look forward to a good dish.

Shaw: Me? Shaw. Can’t cook, gonna wing it tonight.

Host: Thank you all for coming tonight. Before we start with tonight’s special recipe, I have a few questions for everyone.

Host: Does anyone have any memorable cooking experiences to share? Or any expectations for tonight’s recipe.

Lucien: I don’t have much cooking experience, but each time is different. I trust tonight will also be a valuable experience.

Gavin: I trained a bit before coming here so my cooking skills may have improved. We’ll see how it goes later.

Kiro: I have a lot of memorable experiences tasting food! I hope to invent some never before seen food, like spicy donuts~

Victor: I have decent cooking experience. I guess you could say enough to be proficient. But of course, it would be nice to experience something new tonight.

Shaw: Hurry up and start already. Just make something I like eating.

Host: I’m sure our audience is all curious what our special 5th anniversary recipe is. But hold your horses, cooking isn’t that easy!

Host: Let’s start off with a small game, only after clearing it can you get all the ingredients needed!

Host: Please turn your attention to the screen.

Host: Warm Up Game! Ingredients Battle, you draw, I guess. Each game is divided into 5 rounds. The guests take turns to each draw the given prompt within 10 seconds and the other 4 guests try to guess the answer based on their drawing. Just a reminder, the prompts given are the ingredients needed for the secret recipe so try your best!

Kiro: This game’s easy! I’ll go first!

Host: Kiro is intensely drawing, what kind of artwork will he bring?

Kiro: I’m done drawing! Tada! Super easy to guess!

Shaw: I can’t tell what it is.

Victor: If it’s an ingredient… maybe flour?

Gavin: Is it sesame seeds?

Lucien: Perhaps some form of seasoning like sugar or salt…

Correct Answer! Sugar

Kiro: Correct! As expected of Professor Lucien!

Lucien: Mm, the drawing is actually quite good, there’s an indescribable beauty about it.

Host: The first round was successfully passed, let’s continue with round two! Student Shaw, please take a look.

Shaw: Oh, my turn? Heh. Time for you have a look at my artistic skill. *humming while drawing*

Host: Student Shaw looks brimming with confidence, looking forward to see his work.

Shaw: Ok everyone, look over here. Look carefully, next is the important part. *humming while erasing*

Shaw: How is it? Easy yeah?

Victor: … Did he look at the wrong word?

Gavin: Is this some kind of performative art.

Lucien: Is it... chives?

Kiro: emmmm… I know! It’s strawberry! Hahahahah

Correct Answer! Strawberry! (T/N: Strawberry = lit. Grass + Gone)

Shaw: Not bad, pretty smart.

Kiro: Heh, as expected of me.

Lucien: Quite a creative way to communicate the prompt.

Gavin: It does make sense.

Victor: … a childish performance.

Host: Congratulations on another correct answer! Next, could we get Professor Lucien.

Lucien: Guess it’s my turn.

Lucien: Sorry to make a fool of myself, time is limited so the drawing isn’t that great.

Kiro: Isn’t this a bit toooooooo refined. I’m guessing an egg? A duck’s egg? A quail egg!

Victor: Undoubtedly an egg.

Gavin: Agreed

Host: Student Shaw, how about your answer?

Shaw: … surely it can’t just be an egg, is there a catch.

Correct Answer! Egg!

Lucien: Too much caution can cause people to deviate from the correct answer.

Host: That’s right, it’s that easy! Let’s continue with the next round.

Gavin: I’ll go next.

Host: Officer Gavin is concentrating very hard, I trust it’ll be an amazing work.

Gavin: Um, I guess just like this.

Kiro: Oh I know - Ice cream!

Lucien: Maybe mashed potato?

Shaw: Meat bun? Pork soup dumpling? Or is it crab dumpling? Tch, can’t tell.

Victor: Looks like a bowl of rice.

Gavin: … Everyone keep trying. Hint, it’s something sweet that makes people happy when they eat it.

Victor: … Cream?

Correct Answer! Cream!

Kiro: How did you guess that!

Victor: Got lucky…

Lucien: There is some resemblance.

Host: Next is Mr Victor, looking forward to his performance.

Victor: I will try my best.

Kiro: Ah, it looks delicious. It’s chocolate chip cookies…

Gavin: Shouldn’t it be beef?

Lucien: I think it should be milk. The cookies are just a side.

Shaw: It’s clearly this cows afternoon tea.

Kiro: Huh…? Do cows drink milk for afternoon tea?

Shaw: Who said it had to be milk inside the glass.

Victor: Hm?

Lucien: Sometimes the truth nature of things is unexpectedly simple. No need for everyone to think too deeply. I think the answer is indeed milk.

Host: Well then, let’s see, is our last answer indeed milk?

Correct Answer! Milk!

Kiro: Sure enough, it was the simple answer.

Host: Congratulations everyone! Sugar, strawberry, egg, cream, milk. All ingredients successfully obtained~

Host: On to our next segment. Our kitchen battle officially begins!

Host: Ingredients are in place, is everyone ready?

Kiro: Now that I think about it, this is my first time wearing an apron on camera.

Lucien: Congratulations on unlocking another life achievement.

Gavin: Erm… these aprons… *ahem* are a bit too cute.

Victor: Indeed. Compared to making a cake, this seems to be the greater challenge.

Kiro: Hey, someone’s trying to avoid it.

Shaw: *sighs* Okay, okay.

Host: Okay, since everyone is ready, I’ll announce the aim of today’s challenge! Today our five guests will be making anniversary cake! Well then, let’s hand over to our guests!

Victor: Let’s divide up the work.

Kiro: Ok.

Gavin: Understood.

Lucien: No objections.

Shaw: I learn fast, anything is fine.

Victor: We’ll split into pairs. I’ll help out both sides. If there’s any problems, you can find me.

Shaw: *peaces out*

Kiro: Aw yeah! I’m going to make the best cake in the world.

Gavin: I’m going to do some warm up exercises on the side first.

Victor: *sighs* … so be it.

Lucien: I’ll check we have all the ingredients we need.

-

~ On Lucien and Shaw’s side ~

Lucien: 3 eggs… 180g… so each egg should be 60g…

Shaw: You still haven’t finished choosing the eggs?

Lucien: But the scale says…

*A wild Victor emerges*

Shaw: Ahhh close enough.

Victor: Hm... actually-

Lucien: Sugar? If I’m remembering correctly… we only need 60g?

*Victor peaces out*

Lucien: It’s better to follow the ratio of the recipe to better guarantee the accurate result.

Lucien: Perfect, 60g on the dot. Hm… next is…

*A wild Kiro appears*

Kiro: Wow! I’ve discovered that milk plus lemon juice plus sugar tastes really good! I highly recommend this Kiro Original recipe to everyone!

Shaw: What are you having?

Kiro: An original mix, wanna try some?

Shaw: Lemme try. *drinks* Ah, not bad.

*A wild Victor appears*

Victor: What are you guys doing?

Shaw & Kiro : Ahhhhh

*Shaw gets back to cooking, Kiro escapes into the sunset*

Victor: This smell…

-

Lucien: I’ve separated the egg white and egg yolk. I’ll leave the rest to you, student Shaw. I’m sure you’ll do well.

Shaw: No worries!

Lucien: First you stir clockwise 120 times, then you stir anticlockwise 150 times.

*A wild Victor emerges*

Lucien: Then add milk and butter, and stir clockwise and anticlockwise 180 times each.

Shaw: Hmm… so first, clockwise 120 times…

Shaw (in the bg): 101... 102... 103… 104…

Victor (whispering to Lucien): I don’t recall these steps in the recipe. Also the program staff prepared an electric mixer.

Shaw (in the bg): 105… 107… 108… 110… 115…

Lucien (whispering back): University students are always very energetic.

pls appreciate this beautiful fanart

-

~ On Kiro and Gavin’s side ~

Gavin: Let me see… the next step… add a suitable amount of cocoa powder and some crushed biscuits…

Gavin: … Suitable amount? What’s a suitable amount? Some? How many is some?

Kiro: Urgh… the most annoying recipe instructions have appeared.

Gavin: Then… I’ll just go with gut feel…

Gavin: *AGGRESSIVE GRUNTING AND SHAKING*

Gavin: *gasp* Oh no.

Kiro: Uh… no worries Officer Gavin, we’ll just start over.

Kiro: Here *passes egg*

Gavin: Thanks

Kiro: Here

Gavin: Thanks

Kiro: Here

Gavin: Thanks

*A wild Victor emerges*

Victor: How are you guys going?

Gavin: It should be… okay.

Victor: Why does it look like there’s eggshells in the cake… let me see.

Victor: You don’t have any more eggs!?

Kiro: Gavin’s already-

Gavin: *Ahem* So, can we move on to the next step?

Kiro: Right, yes, so next is putting on the cream.

Gavin: I’ll do it.

-

Kiro: Go go you can do it!

Victor: Don’t be nervous. This part is easy.

Kiro: Ah!

Gavin: Um. Did I put too much cream?

Victor: Pause time and immediately finish the entire thing… feasibility is… … *sighs*

-

Host: The cake base for all the 5 guests is already complete, next up is time for their individual decorations. What kind of cake will they make? Let’s have a look.

Host: Hm. We see Kiro here with a lot of chips… what kind of cake are you planning to make?

Kiro (stuffing his face with chips): Wait, no looking. This is my original recipe and cannot be leaked.

Host: Uh, I’m sure it’ll be a great cake.

Host: Well then, let’s have a look at our next guest.

-

Host: Officer Gavin seems to be deep in contemplation.

Host: Officer Gavin, could you share with us your ideas for the cake?

Gavin: Huh? Oh, okay.

Gavin: Um. I’m not very good at making cakes. I’m still coming up with an idea.

Host: O-oh I see. Good luck Officer Gavin.

-

Host: Let’s see Professor Lucien’s latest progress.

Host: Professor Lucien, do you have any particular designs or ideas for the cake?

Lucien: You’ll need to wait and see it with your own eyes to appreciate it.

Host: Professor Lucien gives off an unpredictable feeling, we’ll look forward to see your amazing work.

-

Host: Lastly we have Mr Victor.

Host: Wow, as expected of the Ultimate Chef, such extraordinary skills~

Victor: I do not want to be disturbed while cooking.

Host: Ah okay, so exquisite I can’t bear to eat it.

Host: Let’s wait to interview Mr Victor after he’s done.

-

Host: Lastly is student Shaw.

Host: This looks a bit peculiar… where did this idea come from?

Shaw: Art comes from life and life is to do as one pleases.

Host: Uh, very reasonable cake philosophy. We’re looking forward to your final product.

-

Host: Our 5 guests have completed their cakes. Up next is the exciting moment where we unveil the cakes. Let’s invite our 5 chefs to unveil their cakes!

Kiro: As you can all see, this is the Chips Cake! Unique taste guaranteed!

Gavin: Erm. I drew Pearly. Doesn’t really look like her, hope she’s not angry.

Lucien: A ripe cherry will definitely make people want to eat it more *sparkle*

Victor: Time was limited, so I could only put some simple decorations.

Shaw: My cake obviously has my style.

Host: They’re all very unique and exciting. Thank you for sharing.

Host: We’ll take a short break and then continue with our final segment.

-

~ Kitchen Battle Anniversary Ceremony ~

Host: Congratulations all for completing the cake.

Host: Kitchen Battle ~  Food enriches life - eat well, drink well, and tomorrow will be well ~

Host: Thanks again to our 5 guests. We’ve also prepared a big cake! We welcome everyone watching to celebrate the anniversary with us!

Gavin: Kitchen Battle has helped many people learn how to cook, I too have learned a lot today. May this program continue to get better and better. Happy 5th Anniversary.

Kiro: Here’s to wishing this show will continue to proper next year too and share delicious food with everyone! Happy 5th Anniversary!

Shaw: Today was fun! Looking forward to a harder battle next year, Happy 5th Anniversary!

Lucien: Although our time was short. I’m very glad to have spent this unforgettable and lovely night with you all. Happy 5th Anniversary everyone.

Victor: I’ve always believed in the healing power of good food. Looking forward to discovering even more good food with everyone in the future. Happy 5th Anniversary.

All: Happy 5th Anniversary!

Host: That’s all for today’s program. Thank you all for participating and thank you all for watching! See you next time!

#mlqc #im too lazy to proof read so if you see any problems feel free to poke #stuff i post #temporary terrible translations tag #zzzzzzzzzz #sobbing at lucitorshaw #sobbing at lucien choosing eggs #sobbing at - i still have no idea wtf gavin did to those eggs

[judasofsuburbia]

YET ANOTHER snippet of my spicy six zombie au, this time it's steddie's fic, the one that started it all<3 i'm hoping to start posting this series by the end of the week!! tw: mild sexual content

March 10th, 1986. Excerpt from the Hawkins Post. 

Reports in Los Angeles of cannibalistic, brain-dead individuals attacking innocent civilians and transferring their unknown disease. Individuals look like they’re actively decaying and they’re typically sluggish but incredibly dangerous. Medical professionals do not understand how they are surviving with massive blood loss and in worse cases, missing organs. So far, it only seems to be in California and troops are being sent to handle them. No one knows how large these groups are or the most effective way to stabilize the threat. 

Steve Harrington is a decently rational person. He wasn’t before the apocalypse. Definitely loved to jump to conclusions and make a huge mess of things before knowing all the details. Spoke and acted before thinking. But now, he’s learned to be more level-headed. He had to be in this environment.

He is one of six adults with a hoard of teenagers and one pre-teen that are all under their care. Having five other adults, (if you could even truly call them that seeing as Eddie is the only one actually in his twenties), is a relief sometimes. If one of them is panicking, there is at least another person who can jump in and be the voice of reason. Steve keeps his freakouts to a minimum nowadays. He’s private about them and there are only two people who ever see him crack. Robin and Eddie. 

Steve Harrington’s libido, however, is not rational in the slightest. It’s no secret that Steve is head over heels for his boyfriend and Eddie shares the sentiment right back. They keep their PDA pretty PG around the others because the last thing someone wants to see when they’re actively fighting the end of the world is the two of them playing tonsil hockey. The two of them are rarely alone so they have to be creative with their sex life.

It’s not ideal. Steve longs for the days he spent with Eddie in bed in his suburban home, living off of kisses and sweet nothings. But it’s certainly not the worst thing happening to them on a day-to-day basis. 

The issue is that Steve’s horny brain loves to kickstart at the absolute worst moments. And today, he only has one thing to blame: Eddie’s southern upbringing. 

Eddie Munson grew up in various towns throughout the south, the longest being a small town in Texas from ages ten to fourteen. He started living with his Uncle Wayne full time his freshman year of high school and even Wayne had an Appalachian drawl to his voice despite being in Indiana.

It was safe to say that there was a certain way Eddie’s voice formulated from those environments. A decently thick Southern accent coated every word he spoke for a long time. After being teased for it in his teens, Eddie got better at hiding it. Learned to speak slower so he could hear what he was saying and tried to be more articulate. The accent would return whenever he was stressed, angry, or drunk. 

Today, Eddie Munson is stressed. They’re all stressed. The party split up in the middle of the night because the abandoned shed that they found after a long day of migrating did not have enough room for everybody. Instead of continuing to hunt into the pitch-black night, Nancy suggested that she and Robin take the kids who were still awake enough to keep going while Eddie, Steve, Jonathan, and Argyle took care of the ones that wanted to go to sleep. Those ended up being Dustin, Will, and Erica.  It’s something they’ve done before with no problem.

The only promise is that they keep their walkies on and charged throughout the night in case something happens. 

The other group’s walkies were not picking up. All of them split into the woods a few feet away from each other to try to page again and again but nothing came through. The adults shared a look that said “Don’t panic, don’t freak the kids out”. Eddie silently volunteered to gather them and gently tell them that they were out of range and just need to find which way they went. The kids looked a little freaked anyway but they agreed and started looking around the property for clues. Eddie headed back over to the other adult men and sighed loudly once they were out of earshot. 

“Robin didn’t take the extra pack of batteries,” Jonathan said. “I fucking told her to‒”

“She must have forgotten them,” Steve said. “She wouldn’t just leave those behind.”

“Shit,” Eddie muttered. “Who knows how fucking far they could have gone?”

“Even though they were swearing up and down last night that they were fine, those other kiddos looked worn out too,” Argyle said. “They can’t be too far.”

“Alright,” Eddie clapped his hands together. “There’s a path in these woods that they probably took. I reckon we just follow that until one of those sons a bitches turns around for us. Steve and I will lead, rugrats in the middle, Argyle and Jon, y’all are the caboose. Capiche?”

“Caposh,” Argyle and Jonathan chorused. 

“Great,” Eddie sighed. “C’mon Stevie.”

Steve blinked out of his little haze and took Eddie’s offered hand. He stumbled a bit as Eddie dragged him along, causing Eddie to look back at him with mild concern. Steve gave him a soft smile and a nod of his head, doing his best not to show the vile things popping into his head right now. Eddie raised his eyebrow and rolled his eyes but did crack a small smile despite the tension of the situation. 

“We’re gonna find our pack and then discuss whatever the hell is knockin' around in that pretty head of yours, sugar,” Eddie whispered harshly into his ear. Did not help the problem at all, elevated it, in fact, but Steve kept himself steady with big draws of breath.

#hehehe<3 eddie being from the south like me my beloved #steve is so john wayne by lady gaga coded #emily writes #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie #steddie fics #steddie ficlets #eddie munson #steve harrington

[prismatic-glow]

daily genshin advice 12/31 - let's talk about guoba and the best 3 star weapons!

welcome everybody to the first post in my new format or whatever. I posted something about this yesterday if you're confused

Today, we'll be talking about the best 3 star weapons and a little secret about Guoba that makes him a lot stronger than you might think

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥

┌── ⋆⋅daily advice: 3 star weapons you should definitely keep⋅⋆ ──┐

╰┈➤ thrilling tales of dragon slayers

thrilling tales of dragons slayers is honestly one of the best weapons in Genshin. Its stat is HP% which is great for quite a few supportive catalysts. And the passive is super broken, especially for something you probably have 542 of. At R5, it grants a whopping 48% attack to the next character you switch in. There are so many characters who scale off of attack and slotting this weapon onto a catalyst support is super easy

╰┈➤ harbringer of dawn

even though its base attack is quite low, it gives you 46.9% crit damage which is already a ton. But when combined with the passive that gives you 28% crit rate when over 90% HP, that's over 102.9 crit value from just a weapon. To make full use of the passive, HOD is best used in teams with shields that can help you maintain over 90% HP

╰┈➤ slingshot

at level 90, slingshot will give you 31.2% crit rate which is quite nice. At R5, the passive can give you 60% damage to a normal or charged attack. The part of its passive that decreases damage by 10% if it doesn't hit an enemy after 0.3s can seem like a massive issue but as long as you're decently close to the enemy it shouldn't be a problem. Slingshot is a great budget option on characters like Yoimiya or Tighnari and can even work on characters who don't use normal/charged attacks just for the crit rate!

┌── ⋆⋅daily tip: guoba's secret mechanic⋅⋆ ──┐

you might have noticed that before Guoba breathes fire, a small exclamation mark appears above his head. In this moment, he is actually infused with Pyro! This means that even if there is no Pyro on the enemies, AoE Anemo attacks like those from Sucrose or Kazuha can actually still swirl Pyro!

This is an important part of some teams like Childe International where Guoba's Pyro imbuement allows you to swirl both Hydro and Pyro in one attack. The Anemo character picks up Hydro from the enemy's aura and Pyro from Guoba's!

You can try this out yourself by using Guoba in an area with no grass or enemies, then using an Anemo attack that absorbs elements such as Sucrose/Kazuha's burst or even the activation of Wanderer's skill while Guoba has the exclamation mark. Even though there aren't any enemies to pick up pyro from, these abilities are still able to absorb Pyro thanks to Guoba's special mechanic!!

┌── ⋆⋅daily update: building Candace⋅⋆ ──┐

If you saw this post, you'll know that after randomly selecting Candace, I'm working on maining her. Yesterday I just did leylines for level up books but today I plan on grabbing some talent materials and getting her ascension mats (I think she uses the berries)

She's sitting at level 40 so there's definitely some work to be done. I hope to get her 90 by Friday but we'll see

That's it for today! Remember to take a break from screens and go outside for a bit if you can! I'll be talking about Xiangling and why she's so strong later today (so i guess it's a xiangling themed day lol)

Asks are open for any questions you have surrounding the type of content you make. Whether it's team advice, build questions, or just general tips, I'm always happy to help!!

#genshin impact #genshin ask blog #genshin help #genshin guide #genshin #genshin impact advice #genshin advice #new to genshin #xiangling #genshin xiangling #mao xiangling #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ daily advice #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ game mechanics