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alltheirdamn · 28 days

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Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 2: See me

Chap 2. Summary: To be loved is to be seen. You're slowly learning that Joel sees you a lot more than you realize. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for future smut) Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, no smut (yet...pls be patient), tension, banter, a fuck ton of angst, mutual pining, language... I think that's it this go around? A/N: trust me, we're building up to the good stuff. I'm just enjoying developing Joel and the reader a bit more, so pls hang tight. It's all coming soon, I promise.

Masterlist

It had been two weeks since you had last seen Joel. You managed to get through the first round of tests and projects for each of your classes, but as the midterms slowly approached, you began to notice a shift in your students—specifically, Sarah. It wasn’t noticeable at first; she was still chatty with her friends, but her grades were slipping. Then, it became her grades and mood. During lessons, you’d catch her staring out the window blankly or doodling dismissively on the margins of her notebook when you were running through the guidelines for the midterms. She lingered longer after the school bell, choosing not to leave with her friends. After a particularly dull day of presentations, you decided to pull her aside after class. Sarah was reluctant to stay, but you reassured her she wasn’t in trouble.

“I’ve noticed you’re a bit off lately, Sarah,” you said, leaning against the edge of your desk.

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” she shrugged.

She wouldn’t meet your eyes, and you noticed her shifting her weight between her legs the longer she stood in the empty room with you. You feared something was happening at home with Joel, but you didn’t want to explore that topic with your twelve-year-old student. Instead, you gave her a soft smile and tried a different approach.

“I know you’re on the soccer team. Has that been tiring you out?” You asked.

“I mean, I guess so.”

“When’s your first game?” You were really trying now.

Sarah tightened her fingers around the straps of her backpack, staring at the floor.

“This Saturday,” she mumbled.

“Are you excited? I’m sure your dad can’t wait to cheer you on!”

There it was—the breaking point.

She looked up at you through blurry eyes, biting her lip to stop from crying. You immediately regretted bringing up Joel. You had overstepped a boundary, and you were paying the price. Dipping your head to meet her at eye level, you placed both hands on her shoulders, trying to comfort her the best you could.

“Oh, honey,” you sighed. “I’m sorry. Is that what’s been upsetting you?”

She nodded, sniffling back the tears.

“He’s always working,” she explained. “I don’t really think he’ll make time to come watch me play.”

“I bet he wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you assured her.

“Yeah,” she said, wiping away a stray tear.

You watched the defeat etch itself into her features, the deep frown across her face, the brightness in her eyes dwindling. You wanted to believe Joel was a good dad, and you had no doubt he was trying his hardest, but that clearly wasn’t enough. Tipping your fingers under her chin, you coaxed her eyes to meet yours.

“Look, how about I go?” You offered. “I know I’m not the person you want to see on the sidelines, but I would love to watch you play.”

“Really?” She asked, her eyes growing wide.

“Really,” you promised.

Your words seemed to have soothed a bit of the ache inside of her, and she left the classroom with a smile growing on her face. If Joel wouldn’t show up for her, then you would. She deserved someone cheering her on; she deserved to be happy.

Whoever decided to schedule soccer games at eight AM on a Saturday was cruel, but regardless, you threw on some leggings and a sweater and made your way to the school soccer fields. The parking lot was littered with minivans and families walking with lawn chairs tucked under their arms, their coolers filled with juice pouches and snacks dragging behind them. Obviously, you were uncultured in the sports world and came without a chair or blanket…or anything. So, you opted to stand behind the line of parents on the field, swaying under the morning breeze as you watched the kids chase the ball across the field.

Your eyes never left Sarah while she was on the field; her bouncy curls and lean figure were easy to spot among the other players. She was quick when given the ball, dodging the opponents as she neared the net. There were only three minutes left in the first half of the game, and she had possession of the ball, weaving in and out of the players tracking her moves. You held your breath as she ran closer to the net, the ball easily controlled under her feet. An opponent was gaining on her, trying to kick the ball away, but Sarah did a little twirl and evaded them perfectly to shoot the game's first point. You were cheering and clapping loudly with the other parents on the sideline, watching her teammates swarm her with hugs. But as the cheering died out, you were left with this profound sadness that her dad wasn’t here to see her first goal.

You let that bitterness grow inside you as you watched the remainder of the game.

When the final whistle blew, the team won 1-0, with Sarah being the game's star player. With a sheen of sweat over her forehead and a juice pouch in hand, Sarah skipped over to you with a bright smile.

“Great job!” You cheered, welcoming her into a warm embrace.

She squeezed her arms around your torso, babbling off a slew of ‘thank you’s.’ You put aside your anger towards Joel as you grounded yourself in the moment. Sarah deserved this celebration, and you would happily give her every bit of attention you could.

“Do you need a ride home, honey?” You asked, pulling away from the hug.

Sarah’s cheery exterior faltered as she looked around at the families embracing their children. You knew where her mind was going. Looking around, she nodded slowly, clutching her drink tightly.

“My friend’s parents took me here, but I think they’re going out to lunch. I was hoping my dad would be here, but…” She trailed off.

“I’m happy to take you home, Sarah. Want some food for the drive home?” You offered.

That bright smile was back as she happily agreed, following you back to your car.

Both you and Sarah were munching on fries and singing along to pop tunes when you finally parked in front of her house. To your detriment, Joel’s truck was parked in the driveway. Sarah timidly looked between you and the truck as she gathered her sports bag and soda cup, thanking you again for the day spent together. You gave her the best fake smile you could conjure up and watched her head to the front door.

You sat in front of the driveway for an extra few minutes, debating whether you should confront Joel, but before you could even decide, he was walking down the front porch and towards your car. That bitterness and anger you had suppressed all day surged forward, and you jumped out of the car to face him with a frown drawn on your face.

Joel greeted you with your name falling off his tongue, and you didn’t have time to register the beautiful way it sounded in his Southern accent before you began spewing a litany of remarks about how you felt.

“Why weren’t you there?” You shouted, your body at arm's length from his. You needed to distance yourself from him, too afraid that your anger would send a hand flying across his face. You had to remind yourself that he was Sarah’s dad and you were her teacher, but that wouldn’t stop you from speaking your mind.

Joel looked at you with a furrow of confusion and guilt, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. It was apparent he regretted missing the game, but that didn’t matter. Saying sorry wouldn’t turn back the clock and magically make everything better. You knew that firsthand.

“Tommy and I had an early meetin’ with a contractor,” he explained. “Trust me, I hate that I missed the game.”

“You didn’t just miss the game. You missed her first goal,” you snapped.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, rocking his heels. “I appreciate you takin’ the time to go and watch her play. And drivin’ her home… and gettin’ her lunch.”

“I did everything you should have done,” you accused.

Joel swallowed thickly, his eyes settling on yours with a wave of sadness passing through his irises. Those big puppy dog eyes wouldn’t soothe the anger steamrolling over your professionalism. Fuck being professional. Sarah deserved a dad who was present, and if no one were going to call him out on his bullshit, you’d do it.

“I feel real shitty ‘bout it,” he sighed. “You ain’t gotta remind me.”

“You should feel shitty. She’s your daughter. I shouldn’t have to be the only one cheering for her on the sidelines. Nothing should be more important than that.”

“Would you quit lecturin’ me?” Joel barked. “I know I fucked up, and I already apologized to her. Again, I appreciate you takin’ the time to be there for her, and I’m real sorry for makin’ you do that.”

You huffed a laugh, folding your arms over your chest.

“You didn’t make me do anything,” you argued. “I wanted to be there for her, but she wanted you to be there for her.”

Joel said nothing at that, only stared at you in stunned silence. You were done with him, letting your anger get the best of you.

“I know what it feels like when the one person you want to see doesn’t show up. I know that disappointment. Have a great day, Mr. Miller. Tell Sarah I’ll see her on Monday.”

You spun on your heel toward your car, flinging the door open with more force than you wanted. You shouldn’t have brought your past into it; Joel was nothing like Bennette, but it hurt all the same.

Joel didn’t try to stop you as you drove out of the neighborhood, but he remained at the curb of his driveway, his eyes never leaving you until you were out of view.

You barely managed to put your car in park before you broke down in tears. Everything was crashing at the surface, and you didn’t have the strength to bottle it away this time. Bennett had been your entire world for five years. Your whole life revolved around him, from going to the same grad school together to moving away from Boston to be with him in his new career. You left everything behind for him and were happy to do it because you loved him. Despite his flaws and the “not-so-picture perfect” relationship, you stayed because you loved him. And in that moment when you needed him to be there for you… he was gone. You weren’t lying to Joel when you said you knew what that disappointment felt like; it was that same feeling that kept you up at night when you wondered if you had done something to deserve it. But Sarah? Sarah did nothing to deserve to be abandoned by her dad. All she wanted was to see that one person cheering her on from the sidelines, to hug her and tell her she was loved.

She didn’t get that today.

And you didn’t get that two years ago.

With whatever dignity you had left, you dragged yourself inside and into your bedroom, flinging yourself onto the mattress. Curling into a ball on top of the comforter, you let the tears continue to fall as you stared at the empty walls where the pictures of you and Bennett had hung before. Every inch of this house was a reminder of the scars Bennett left on your heart. You could have moved out months ago, you could have gone home, but what was the use when the pain would just travel with you? Shutting your eyes, you let the emotions exhaust you until you drifted asleep.

“Bennett, I told you what time the cake tasting was scheduled for,” you shouted across the kitchen.

Bennett wasn’t even listening as he responded to a thread of emails on his computer. The law firm he had been working at kept him on a short leash, always requiring him to be there at their beck and call. Between you and his job, his loyalty was in the latter.

“I know,” he nodded, still glued to the computer screen. “They needed a proxy for the shareholder meeting and asked me to step in.”

“We’ve had this scheduled for weeks now. You can’t expect me to make all these decisions alone.”

“Whatever cake you choose, I’m sure I’ll love it,” he shrugged.

“That's not the point!” You yelled, slamming down the Tupperware you had been scrubbing.

That caught his attention. Slamming the laptop shut, Bennett’s nostrils flared at your sudden outburst. You weren’t usually this outspoken; you were always the level-headed and obedient fiancé he expected to have. But the entire engagement had been a disaster, between work conflicts and the constant pressure he put on you. Every day, he expected to come home to a fresh meal, never considering that your job didn’t end when three PM hit. Being a teacher meant your responsibilities began at home, when you were hunched over curating the next lesson and grading papers. You never complained about his workload extending into the evening, either. God forbid you ask for more time together.

“What is the point?” He snapped.

“The point is that I want you there. I want you to be a part of this wedding planning process. All I’m asking for is two hours together, where we eat too much sugar and choose a damn cake flavor. It’s not even about the fucking cake, Bennett. It’s about you being present in this engagement.”

“Are you saying I’m not present?” He accused. “Because I have been as present as possible despite me working so hard to fund this big wedding that you wanted!”

“I just want you there with me for these things. Even if they aren’t important to you, it’s important to me,” you said, your energy dwindling. He always found a way to make you feel bad, and you looked past it for the sake of your heart. You loved him and did everything you could to make him love you in return. If that meant placating your feelings, you’d do it.

“If it’s so important to you, then just go. You can tell me all about it when I get home tomorrow.”

That was the best resolution you’d get, and there was no use fighting anymore. He would always win.

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “I’ll do that.”

Bennett rose from his chair and met you around the kitchen counter with a big hug. He rested his chin on your head as you melted into his chest.

“I love you, honey. I don’t want you angry at me all the time. You know I’m trying my hardest to be everywhere all at once. Just work with me, okay?” he sighed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be better about it. I love you, too,” you whispered.

A firm knock on your front door jolted you awake from the flood of memories in your dreams. The shadows in your room were a telltale sign you had slept through most of the afternoon, which would put a hefty dent in the list of never-ending work you needed to finish. Sulking through the house to the front door, you smoothed down your hair and sweater, trying to gather your bearings. With one last heavy inhale, you pried the door open and stood paralyzed at the further standing before you.

Joel said your name softly, his eyes tired and hair ruffled at the crown of his head. He looked as just a mess as you did, but most definitely for different reasons.

“Mr. Miller,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

He swayed back on his heels, holding your eyes apologetically. It was written all over his face; he didn’t need to say the words.

“Our conversation earlier ain’t sittin’ right with me,” he sighed.

“I overstepped, and I’m sorry,” you said honestly. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

Joel held his hand in protest, shaking his head at your words.

“Don’t apologize, okay? You were right about everything. I shoulda been there, and I wasn’t. I let her down.”

“Mr. Miller, I—.”

“I let her down,” he repeated. “And I let you down.”

You stood in stunned silence, trying to understand his words. Joel watched you turn the words over in your head, his eyes never leaving yours. He said everything you had ever asked to hear from Bennett in just a few words. You didn’t understand the emotions stirring inside you, nor could you control the tears welling in your eyes. This would be the second time you cried today, and now it would be the second time you cried in front of Joel.

“You didn’t let me down,” you faltered.

“I did. I want you to see that I’m not a bad father, but I seem to keep makin’ mistakes left and right. She expected me to be there, and so did you. I’m the type of man who makes and keeps his promises, but lately, I’ve been fallin’ short. It ain’t fair to her, and it ain’t fair to you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” you whispered, wiping your tears.

“I sure as hell do,” he protested. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry, okay? I’m gonna do better about bein’ there for her, and I want you to see that. I don’t wanna keep fuckin’ it all up.”

“Did you tell her that?” You asked.

“I did, and now I’m tellin’ you. I want you holdin’ me accountable on all this, and I want you to call me out on my bullshit like you did earlier. I needed to hear all that.”

“I was just angry. I didn’t need to be that mean to you.”

Joel lifted his hand to brush away a stray tear falling down your cheek, the touch of his hand on your skin electrifying you. You flinched away, trying to curl into yourself. He noticed your movements, letting his hand fall back to his side. You glanced down, watching him clench his hand into a fist as if he were trying to control an urge inside of him. You were trying to do the same; being near him scared you. It shocked you to see someone act mature and actually own up to their faults; it was something Bennett rarely did. You couldn’t make sense of it.

“There ain’t a single part of me that’s mad at you, okay? Don’t ever be afraid to speak your mind—at least not with me,” Joel said.

You only nodded, too afraid that if you spoke now, you’d succumb to an ugly sob. Joel’s broad frame was shadowed and looming over you in the dying sunlight, a cloud over the haze inside your mind. Joel didn’t understand the weight in those words, the way they sewed shut the empty holes left inside you. It wasn’t Bennett saying them, and it definitely didn’t rewrite the past, but it was writing the future. It was a future with the possibility that you weren’t as broken as you thought.

“Thank you,” you muttered. “I—just thank you.”

“Somethin’ tells me you ain’t been told these things before, huh?” Joel prodded.

“It doesn’t matter. I appreciate you taking the time to come out here, and I’m sorry again. I promise I’ll be better about my anger,” you laughed, hoping you’d be able to brush it off with a forced smile.

Joel saw right through you; his lips tugged down into a frown. You watched the crease between his eyebrows appear as he watched you minimize yourself right back down to zero. It wasn’t easier that way—making yourself small. Too big, and you’d be too much to handle. You were tired of being too much for anyone; it had already been your downfall once before.

“Whoever made you feel like y’need to apologize all the time is a real piece of shit,” Joel huffed.

“It’s alright, Mr. Miller. Thank you again for stopping by.”

“It’s the least I could do. And y’know what? I’d be happy if you joined me at the rest of her games. She loved havin’ you there, and I know it would mean a lot to her to see you on the sidelines again. Think that’s somethin’ you’d interested in?”

“I’ll think about it, yeah,” you smiled.

“Yeah? Good,” he exhaled.

Joel met you with a genuine smile, his eyes dancing over your face. You swayed in the doorway, unsure of what to do now that the conversation was coming to an end. A strange part of you didn’t want it to end; the stillness with him had managed to bottle away all of the lingering memories of Bennett, even if only for a moment. You’d take this over, crying yourself asleep like so often did.

“You should head home to Sarah,” you sighed. “I hope you have a good weekend, Mr. Miller.”

“You have a g’night, alright?”

You watched him walk down the porch steps, the muscles in his back tense as he retreated back to his truck. You should have walked your ass back inside, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Before opening the truck door, Joel glanced back at you, waving a quick goodbye. You waved back and waited until his truck dissolved into the distance to finally shut your door and sit in the blaring silence.

You watched the night fade away from the comfort of your couch, a half-eaten sandwich in front of you and a wine glass in hand. Not only did you overstep your boundaries as a teacher, but you overstepped every possible rule between a teacher and parent. Despite what happened at the bar with Joel, he was still Sarah’s dad and completely undeserving of the anger you had toward him today. He was slipping behind every brick wall you had built up around you, a fortress no one could penetrate, yet he was managing to do it so effortlessly. And it was infuriating. How were you supposed to protect yourself from him? Bennett had been the perfect man at the start, always saying the right things and showing his love in so many different ways, but even with the rose-colored glasses on, that all crumpled away as time moved on. Nothing about your relationship was perfect, yet you tried to mend the broken pieces in hopes the possibility of marriage would solve all your problems. But clearly, it didn’t. It never even made it to marriage.

You weren’t even considering dating Joel, but that didn’t stop you from doubting he would be any different than Bennett. Sure, he might seem interested now, but that would change once he saw every damaged piece of you. You were hardly controlling your emotions, as it were, so why would you spend the time sharing the rawest parts of yourself with someone who would end up leaving?

I’ll do better, you told yourself. Bottle it away.

Another week passed by without fuss; the students passed their practice exams and had even begun working on their group presentations on the new poetry unit you had created. After next week's midterm exams, you’d be on a plane heading to Boston to see your family during the fall break. You hadn’t been home in over a year, and you were well aware of the fact your parents and sisters missed you. It’s not that you didn’t miss them, but going home was another reminder of all you had lost. But you’d steer clear of the roads you’d traveled down with Bennett, you’d avoid the bars and restaurants he had taken you to, and you’d absolutely banish all thoughts of returning to the Public Garden where he had proposed. Every corner of your hometown was haunted by the ghosts of what had been, but you’d brave it for the sake of family.

You had forfeited any thought of going to the soccer game out of sheer self-preservation. Being around Joel more than necessary was putting you at risk for an inevitable heartbreak, and it just wasn’t something you were ready to deal with. You didn’t want to let Sarah down, but Joel would be there for her, and that mattered more than you standing on the sidelines. She didn’t need you there; you’d only gone to the game to fill a void within her life. Joel was going to stick to his word, and you’d be able to maintain your teacher-parent relationship once again. You still had yet to forgive yourself for Saturday’s outburst.

It wasn’t until Thursday when Sarah approached you, that you were reminded of the game.

When she approached your desk at the end of class, she had her textbook in hand and her backpack slung over her shoulder. You were feeling particularly drained from the day after spending most of the night tossing and turning between nightmares, and you had to muster up the strength to keep things light between you and her.

“So,” she started, a bright smile plastered on her face. “My dad said you might come to the game Saturday.”

“Oh, yeah. I—I haven’t decided yet. I’ve got to make sure everything is prepped for testing next week,” you lied.

“Oh,” her face fell. “That’s okay. I know the exams are important.”

Fuck.

You were transported right back to the kitchen with Bennett.

“I’m sure the prep work can wait till after the game,” you smiled, already giving up on your initial plans to avoid everything—everything being Joel Miller.

“If you don’t want to come…” Sarah trailed off, looking down at her sneakers.

“Hey,” you said softly. Her eyes traveled up to meet yours again. “I’ll be there. You have my word.”

Sarah perked up, nodding her head enthusiastically.

“I’ll tell my dad! Maybe we can all get lunch after!” She babbled excitedly.

Oh, Christ.

“I’m sure you guys will want the day together,” you smiled, your patient wearing. “Go enjoy your night, Sarah. I’ll see you tomorrow in class. Don’t forget your notes on Shakespeare!”

“Bye, Miss Smith!”

You watched her sprint out of the room to catch up with her friends, and you sunk into your chair, dreading what may come during the weekend.

Maria stopped by your classroom after the final bell, skeptically looking at you while you gathered your work bag. Thankfully, you both had Thursdays free of crosswalk duty, and you were ready to get home and sulk away under the guise of cheap wine and a bubble bath.

“You’re extra grumpy today,” Maria noted, slinging her large purse over one shoulder.

“I’m not grumpy,” you huffed. “I’m fucked. Completely fucked.”

She barked a laugh and watched you stuff files into your bag before you grabbed your keys and shooed her out to lock the door. The hallways were empty, except for a few teachers trickling out, and you walked a pace quicker, trying to escape the building before anyone else stopped you.

“Why do I get a feeling this may be because of a certain parent?” She asked, shoving into you playfully.

“Yes,” you grumbled.

“Explain!”

“Ugh, okay. Listen, all of this is against my own will, okay?”

You peered over at her, seeing a wicked smile splitting across her face. If anyone was on board with your confused emotions towards Joel Miller, it was Maria. She had been all for it since day one, and you knew she wouldn’t shut up about it until she saw you and him together. Which wouldn’t be happening.

You dive into retelling the events of Saturday, including the outburst and the conversation with Joel that had followed. All through your rambling, Maria was squealing like a little girl and inserting small remarks here and there—all of which revolved around the idea that you should fuck out your feelings and get it over with.

“Maria,” you snapped. “I’m not going to fuck him! Would you quit that?”

She shrugged, laughing off your stubbornness.

“All I’m saying is that there is clearly some sort of chemistry between you both,” she sassed. “One night of hot sex might clear your mind, and you can resume your up-tight ‘teacher-parent’ bullshit you’re trying so hard to keep.”

“It’s not bullshit, Maria,” you argued. “It’s called being professional.”

You both had made it to the parking lot, and you tried to inch closer to your car in hopes of coming out unscathed from this conversation. But Maria was anything but relentless.

“You really need to get laid,” Maria huffed. “Dust off the cobwebs and get back out there.”

“I’m perfectly fine with how my life is right now. I don’t need to get laid, and I certainly don’t need to be in a relationship.”

Maria grabbed your hands in hers, leveling you with a stern look under her thick mascara-coated lashes. With her lips set in a firm line, she squeezed your hands.

“It’s been two years,” she sighed. “Stop letting Bennett control your life. He’s in the past, and you need to find a new future—preferably one where you’re happy and in love.”

You squeezed her fingers in return, giving her a sad smile. You knew somewhere inside you that she was right, but it wasn’t in the cards for you right now. Not when you still had so much healing to do.

“Thank you, Maria,” you whispered.

When you arrived at the school, the soccer game had already begun. Your car sat idle in the parking lot for nearly twenty minutes until you finally found the strength to head toward the soccer fields. Among the line of parents on the sidelines, Joel was standing further away, his body swaying against the windy morning as his eyes stay focused on the field. You walked up slowly, smoothing out your t-shirt and running sweaty palms over your jeans. You definitely didn’t spend too much time getting ready for a simple game. As if he felt your energy circling him, Joel turned toward you with a beautiful smile breaking across his face.

“I was hopin’ you’d show up,” he said.

“Good morning, Mr. Miller,” you greeted.

You weren’t sure what to do with yourself beside him, so you mimicked his stance and folded your arms over your chest. With the morning sun rising above the soccer field, you watched as his skin glowed in the sunlight, his tanned skin illuminated in the soft hues of the sunrise. He was undeniably gorgeous, but you forced that thought away along with all of the unruly ones that seemed to constantly evade your mind.

“Sarah’s doin’ great out there so far,” he mentioned. “Got herself close to scorin’ a goal ten minutes ago. No doubt she’ll get one at some point.”

“I bet she will. She’s amazing out there.”

Joel beamed at your compliments of his daughter, his eyes tracking her as she ran across the field. A teammate shot the ball to her, and you both stood silently as she kept control of it toward the goal. Instead of taking the shot herself, she crossed the ball to another teammate, letting them score the first goal of the game. The parents on the sidelines sounded off with a round of cheers, and you and Joel joined in on the excitement.

“She’s a team player,” you commented. “That’s a good quality.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled proudly.

This. This is what you had hoped to see for Sarah. A dad who was present and proud of her accomplishments. You could give her all the applause in the world, but his voice cheering above the rest was what mattered the most.

There was a lull in conversation for a while as you both watched the game with rapt attention. You tried hard not to notice the way Joel shifted closer to you or the fact that he had dropped his arms so that he could casually brush his against yours. Each touch of his skin against yours was like a wave of heat rushing through your body, an electric current that started with him and ended with you. There was no doubt he did it on purpose, but you did nothing to stop it. You were losing the war between self-restraint and vulnerability.

“How’s she likin’ class?” He asked, making small talk.

You shrugged, glancing at him with an easy smile.

“She’s one of the best kids in her grade. This new unit we’re working on will be a challenge, but I know she’s up for it.”

“What’s the new unit?”

“Poetry.”

Joel snorted a laugh, his fingers brushing against the denim on your leg. You shifted to glare at him, amused at his response.

“What’s so funny, Mr. Miller?”

He ran a hand through the curls atop his head, giving you a lopsided grin.

“Nothin’,” he chuckled. “Just don’t understand why poetry is so popular in schools nowadays.”

“Poetry has always been popular,” you said pointedly.

“Has it? Must not have paid much attention back in the day,” he smirked.

“It’s my favorite unit to teach,” you confessed. “I think poetry gets a bad rap—clearly—but it’s important to understand the way words can convey so many layered emotions in the simplest of ways.”

Joel eyed you as you spoke, nodding along with you as you spoke. Even if he wasn’t completely sold on the idea of poetry, you enjoyed how attentive he was to the conversation. In the distance, you heard the parents cheer again, and you glanced at the field to see Sarah running with the ball toward the goal.

“Look!” You said, pointing toward the field.

Joel snapped his head back to his daughter, watching as she sent the ball soaring into the net. You jumped up and down, clapping at her goal and yelling out her name in excitement.

“That’s my girl!” Joel cheered. “Way to go, Sarah!”

Sarah looked over at him, her cheeks rosy from the play, and shot him two thumbs up. Joel returned the same hand gesture; his cheeks stretched wide with a smile as he watched his daughter dance into an embrace from her teammate.

“You were sayin’,” he pressed, his eyes sliding back to you.

“Oh,” you laughed. “That’s okay. I don’t want to bore you with all the school talk.”

“You ain’t borin’ me. I wanna hear what you have to say.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, realizing he wasn’t just asking these things to make small talk. He sincerely wanted to know the things you were interested in and the work you did, which was far from what you received from Bennett. Half the time you talked about your lessons, Bennett would just aimlessly nod while typing his emails and debriefs, his attention far away from you.

“Well, I’m starting off by teaching them about Shakespeare,” you explained, watching Joel open his mouth to make a retort. You held your hand up in defense and continued. “Before you go complaining about Shakespeare, I’ll have you know he’s one of the most renowned dramatists in history. His stylist choices in his playwrights were unlike anything else, and his work has completely impacted modern-day English. It’s because of him that we have so many words and phrases in the English language. Say what you want, but he really is worth learning about.”

Joel studied you for a moment, his lips curving up at the corners. You weren’t used to rambling off about useless things, more because you never really had the chance in the past. It was exciting to talk about the things you were passionate about, and you didn’t realize you’d find that moment being with Joel Miller.

“Maybe I need to read some of his work,” Joel said. “What’s your favorite?”

“My favorite?” You blinked at him. “Oh, um, it’s cliche, but my favorite is Romeo and Juliet. That’s what I’m starting with on the unit.”

“Sarah got a copy of it?” he asked.

“She should, yes.”

“Might need to steal it from her so I can see what all this fuss is about,” he smiled, bumping his arm into yours.

“You don’t need to do all that,” you muttered. “I’m sure Sarah could tell you all about it after she’s done reading it.”

“I’m sure she could,” he acknowledged. “But maybe I'd like to do the research.”

“Research?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Joel leaned into you, his face drawn closer to yours.

“Yeah, research,” he repeated. “I wanna know why y’like it so much.”

Your mouth opened and closed, all words seemingly melting from your brain. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? He wanted to take the time to understand your interests… but why? Once again, Joel was proving to be everything you never saw in Bennett. And it scared the fuck out of you. Because you couldn’t date Joel, nor did you want to. Giving yourself up to another person, exposing those vulnerable parts of yourself like that would just be inviting the possibility of another heartbreak.

“I can save you the time and tell you instead,” you offered.

“Nah,” he smiled. “I wanna find out myself.”

The game came to a close, with the school team winning 2-0. Joel embraced Sarah when she ran off the field, wrapping her into a gigantic bear hug and planting a kiss on her forehead. You gave her a small high five, congratulating her on the win. You followed them out to the parking lot, watching as Joel kept his arm wrapped around Sarah’s narrow frame. From this angle, they looked like the perfect father-daughter duo, and your heart seized with happiness knowing he had kept his word.

Digging through your purse for your car keys, you said a quick goodbye and made a beeline for your car. You wouldn’t insert yourself in the rest of their day; you needed to find some distance between you and Joel before he started crawling further under your skin. But as you tugged open your car door, a warmth grew behind you, and you turned to see Joel standing a few steps away. Sarah was nowhere in sight, so you figured she was already waiting for him in his truck.

“Yes?” You asked, standing idle between the open door and Joel’s tall body.

His eyes bounced between your lips and your eyes, never settling on one too long.

“Look, this is gonna sound forward of me, and I can probably guess your answer,” he started. “But can I take you out to dinner sometime? As a ‘thank you' for everything.”

“Mr. Miller,” you sighed. “I appreciate the invitation, but this needs to remain purely professional. I’m Sarah’s teacher, and I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his eyes trailing to the ground. Despite every cell inside your body screaming yes, you needed to stick to your rules—whatever the hell they were.

“I figured you’d say that,” he mumbled. "Listen, let me give you my number at least. If you ever change your mind, or if you need someone to drive you home from the bar, y’can shoot me a call. Is that okay?”

“I…” You trailed off, considering his offer. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

You searched for your phone in your purse, handing it over to him with shaky hands. His fingers brushed against yours as he took it, a crackle of energy bursting through your skin at his touch. He must have noticed, too, because his eyes met yours before he typed in his number. With a few more clicks on your phone, he handed it back, brushing his hand over yours once more.

“I sent myself a text on it,” he confessed. “Now I have yours, just in case of anything, y’know?”

“Yeah, just in case.”

Joel gave you a soft smile before turning and walking away. You watched his figure fade into the cars still filling the parking lot and caught him glancing back at you one last time. You stared down at your phone, seeing the text lit up on the screen. He had sent one simple word to himself: your name. Not Miss Smith, not ‘Sarah’s teacher’, but your name.

You opened his contact information and typed one simple word: Joel

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

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kmackatie · 1 year

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shadowgast fic rec list: the modern au edition - part one

This has been a long time coming, and hopefully the start of a few, but I have been intending to make some fic rec lists for a while. I am time-poor and generally bad at remembering to bookmark fics, but I figured I shouldn't let that stop me.

I have a love for modern au's, I write many of them, and I often see arguments against them when the source material is fantasy based for a number of reasons. But, I wanted to shine a light on some out there that tickle that box for me of being delightful.

Listed below the cut are a bunch of fics I have enjoyed, in no particular order and of varying lengths. I will of course forget some, but I hope to do some more lists in the future as I have more tabs open than I can reasonably fit in a list.

Fundamental Forces Other Than Gravity by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi)/@mllekurtz (1/1 chapters, 40,676 words, E, no warnings)

- A shadowgast college au with great characterisation and weaving of the Nein throughout. This one has chronic pain Essek, and I love how it is handled. As a note, Essek is briefly one of Caleb's professors, however, there is little power imbalance between them.

the fire kept closest (burns most of all) by mousecookie/@ariadne-mouse (3/3 chapters, 21,822 words, M, warnings: MCD)

- The fic that created the vocaleb tag. Essek is scientist on a research team studying a volcano, for which a tragic accident occurred years prior. It's told in a series of present and past, and the slow build of the relationships throughout the fic are gorgeous. For those eyeing the MCD warning, know that it is also tagged with 'angst with a happy ending'.

I've been lost before (and I'm lost again, I guess) by toneofjoy/@fireryn (21/21 chapters, 165,080 words, E, no warnings)

- The boys are rock climbers in this one. I know, it sounds odd, but trust me and read this. It has incredible characterisation and conversations about sexuality and gender (I hold the cafe scene in my hands so gently), as well as some wonderful sexual tension that builds until it bursts. This fic also got me into recreational rock climbing and I owe the author for it big time. As a note, Essek is Caleb's coach in this fic and this is a plot point for the background of their developing relationship.

starting with your heart (bright heart) by 2manyboys/@cluelessheroes (1/1 chapters, 9,914 words, E, no warnings)

- This has the sentence "Have you been taking four legged showers with Essek Thelyss?” in the summary and it has lived rent-free in my head ever since. Modern-wth-magic university au where they are both students with some lovely build-up of sexual tension between them. Hot smut to go along with it.

disputable presumptions by hanap/@callingvoicemail (3/? chapters, 9,606 words, E, no warnings)

- The corporate lawyer au of my dreams where they are friends with benefits and hiding it from the rest of the Nein. This has a delightful background of plot, along with ambiguous not!wizards hiding their true feelings behind an air of casualness, and snappy writing that keeps you reading.

Inside Edge, 3 Turn, and Closed Hold by MithrilWren/@mithrilwren (3/? works, 16,060 combined words, T/G/M respectively, no warnings)

- The shadowgast figure skating au I didn't know I needed until I read it. I've reread this one so many times and keep coming back to the characterisation and the way the story is slowly told across all three fics. There's a richness of the world behind what we see, and I adore coach!Beau in this one. Another with chronic pain Essek, and generally a careful understanding of the risks that go into the sport.

Labor of Love by OMGitsgreen (6/6 chapters, 43,331 words, M, warnings: CNTW)

- Bakery au. It's a classic, and it's done so well here. This is one of the earliest fics I remember reading, and it's a warm hug on a cold day that is great for when you're wanting something nice.

fermata by canyon_wizard/@canyon-wizard (8/8 chapters, 65,403 words, E, no warnings)

- A classical music au (there really needs to be more of these, please) where they are both piano students. The focus of this one is less the music world and more the character dynamics, and they are incredibly well done. The smut is hot, there is delightful miscommunication, and tense dynamics (ha) throughout.

(your face in my hands is) everything good I need by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi)/@mllekurtz (8/8 chapters, 25,884 words, M, no warnings)

- Professor au where they meet at a conference, Caleb a professor of modern history and Essek an expert in Latin. This fic has everything--wizards being nerds in every universe, first kisses, developing feelings, long distance relationship, emotional stakes, and dramatic declarations of love. I adore Mlle's writing (it really should not be a surprise at this point) as they have a way of capturing emotions and turning them into stunning pieces of prose. This one is also a love letter to Paris and Berlin, and please give it a read!

#shadowgast #critical role #critical role fanfic #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #the mighty nein #fic rec #fic rec list: modern au #my writing #I have definitely left of fics but I am intending to make a second list eventually #authors if you wish to be removed or untagged please let me know #cr: fanfic

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sonicasura · 20 days

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Let's be honest with ourselves that Transformers Earthspark has its issues. It isn't uncommon for the series to have a few messy iterations throughout the years. However those at least have something going for them.

Bayverse is a junk pile yet there's a lot of material you can build off on and some pretty interesting concepts. RiD15 is an awful sequel to Prime but does decently well as a standalone although there are much needed changes to be had. Earthspark... Well, it's just there.

I can be lenient with the plot holes and poor pacing as Nickelodeon is notorious for interfering with any show that isn't SpongeBob to the point of cancellation. The issues truly land on the characters themselves. I'm gonna try to simplify it without devolving into a rant like the previous draft.

Edit: Gonna add some further edits as I wrote this in the middle of the night. Plus my simplified version skipped some key details.

Robby. Somehow they made a human character I actually dislike instead of be neutral about. In the official Transformers wiki, he's labeled as a big brother who cares for his siblings but his actions so far say otherwise. Robby literally ran away in the first episode because they moved then decided to try and hide the Terrans from his parents.

Yet he rarely gets enough consequences for his actions. I think we don't just need less Emberstone saves not just because of plot armor but force actual character growth on him. Like a life changing to one of his siblings as consequences for his actions and strained relationship until he gets his head outta his ass.

Edit: Yes, I know Robby is a teenager but that isn't a decent enough excuse for his behavior. Seen the trope about big brothers who do act closed off or at some points rude but they haven't done shit that put their family in serious danger. No, I didn't try to purposely forget the times he was injured badly.

There honestly needs to be less of those and his consequences be adjusted to it affects someone else badly. *

Next issue is lacking confrontation with Optimus choices alongside the obvious misplaced trust in the 13 Primes. Quintus Prime literally emotionally manipulated and scarred Mo through a fake bad ending reality because she doubted herself. No good person would do that, much less an actual ally. Even moreso on a child.

I seen this shit in Trollhunters but at least Jim, the main character, was a teenager. (It still was wrong though.) We also got remember that Liege Maximo and Megatronus/The Fallen are Primes. Yet somehow it is best to trust them.

Don't get me started with some of Optimus' choices when it comes to GHOST. He probably did it to protect his Autobots but what about the Decepticons who are locked away? Why are there so little of his companions with him especially since Bumblebee had fucking went into hiding before the show began.

There needs to be tension between Optimus with his Autobots. Someone is bound to snap and Bumblebee would have the biggest impact. The man clearly isn't okay as he's doing things that even Megatron admits ain't like him.

Mandroid needs to be written differently. He has the making of a sympathetic villain but oh boy. First off it is clear that his depiction is ableist aligned since the reason he doesn't like Cybertronians is because he lost his arm. Major thing to change right there.

Give him a narrative where his interest been genuine but slowly declines as the Autobot/Decepticon war increases the number of destroyed lives. Let him become a victim to this than just 'I lost my arm so death alongside experimentation to all Cybertronians'. Also don't make Mandroid ignore the obvious fact that the Transformers parts he puts into his body is slowly poisoning and instead come up with ways to fight the infection. Kinda like in Ironman 2 where Tony's arc reactor began to do the same thing.

Edit: Mandroid's negative views on Cybertronians are about the war and he's aware of the Energon poisoning. It is just that it is poorly portrayed to the point you rarely see it over his Arachnamechs/his ruined life.

Have the man present various evidence of destruction the war caused by both sides at the Malto children or anonymously spread such info around town to sew discontent with the townsfolk. 'These are the people who you consider heroes. Who you see as family and friends. Or should these tragedies be forgotten?'

Do a Baxter Stockman where you frequently see him try to fix the Energon poisoning than just simple dialogue. Even have testing on organic subjects to see how they react and find ways to counter it. Don't keep these key points as simple dialogue. *

I don't think Karen needs much changes either. 'But her taking over Cybertron doesn't make sense!' It actually does for one reason: hubris. Have you ever seen what happens when you give a control freak power? Their behavior becomes more erratic as they begin to think they deserve more. She is xenophobic in nature so imprisoning Decepticons and ordering around the Autobots is a drug to her.

Karen wants to treat them like slaves so the next step in her mind is Cybertron. Her death is well deserved and well played. Just like Icarus, the bitch flew too close to the sun.

I think the last major issue, other than out of character racist Shockwave, is the Terrans. No offense but they need a bit less screentime so the rest of the cast can shine. We barely see Alex and there's unclarified issues involving Bumblebee with Arcee if he's uncomfortable around her.

I also want their flaws to be at the forefront. Thrash is the only one who gotten such character development from his encounter with Swindle. We need more of that! Like Hashtag's overreliance on the Internet biting her back as she is forced to use real world skills.

Edit: I accidentally put in Terrans when I really meant Twitch. The screentime for everyone needs to be balanced mainly for the Malto family. Alex alongside the three younger Terrans rarely get involved or their characters further build upon. Twitch needs to get benched more.

Also the Dad Number 2 should really be addressed. Wheeljack was clearly uncomfortable when it been brought up. Plus it is way too fast to even consider such ideas unless you plan to have it addressed properly. Like 'Kid. We barely know each other yet somehow I became a father figure in an instant? It's best not to do that until you truly certain "Dad Number 2" doesn't mean harm or feels comfortable with it.' *

Earthspark clearly has potential but these problems need to be handled better. Addong the deleted scenes help add some clarification but canon needs to present it. We are supposed to get a second season so hopefully some of these are addressed.

#sonicasura #maccadam #transformers #transformers series #transformers earthspark #tf #tf series #tf es #tfes #personal idea #rambles #tv shows #slight rant #personal review #fixing canon #canon divergence #character flaws

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navnae · 1 year

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How about stuck up city boy Eddie who’s used to the fast way of living and he’s always on the go, that would explain why being on tour for him was always an outlet because he never stopped moving. One day his tour bus breaks down in Hawkins near a farm and it looks like the bus isn’t going to be running any time soon. Him and his team are all out of luck until a guy around Eddie’s age come up to the bus wearing some overalls that were extremely dirty, he looked concerned. He asks them what happened and the whole situation is explained, he tells them that they can crash with him and his parents for awhile until things are settled. Eddie later learns that the guy name is Steve and so far he’s pretty okay but Eddie doesn’t make things any better with his slick comments about his clothes, basically telling him that he needs a makeover. Even with all those comments Eddie was throwing his way Steve still managed to laugh about it and even tease Eddie back. Steve has come to the realization that Eddie only spits out a snarky remark when he gets flustered or blushes, Steve knows that Eddie has a crush on him but he just sits back and waits to see what Eddie is going to do about it. Eddie is so used to getting chased by anyone who wants him, they’d even beg on their knees to be with him and it was killing him that Steve wasn’t doing any of that.

Eddie goes out of his way to get Steve’s attention even if it meant wearing those dirty overalls, milking cows, washing horses, and feeding the chickens. The farm life was nothing like the Hollywood life that Eddie has spent years living. Steve loved every second of it too, making Eddie do unnecessary chores that he made up on the spot and he was actually stunned by the lengths Eddie would go through just to get Steve’s attention. This goes on for several weeks since the bus is still a wreck and it’s hard for Eddie’s team to get in contact with anyone to help them. Overtime the two start to bond and grow closer, they talk about how different they are from one another but they work so well. It doesn’t take Steve long to catch himself almost failing at his own game with Eddie and he’s so close to giving in and blurting out how he feels about him. The tension between them is insane especially when they get in each other’s face just have that last word after a remark and one of them will slowly close the gap just to rile each other up. Eddie feels like he’s going to lose his mind because the longer he stays the more he falls in love with Steve everyday and all of this e feelings starts building up inside of him until he just explodes.

One night Eddie pulls Steve by the his shirt making their faces come close and they could feel their breath tickling each other’s lips. Eddie’s eyes flicks to Steve’s lips the entire rim his looking at him and honestly he didn’t really care at this point, Steve did the same thing and a smirk played on his lips. They didn’t know if they were going to rip each other’s clothes off or passionately makeout until both of them were exhausted. All of it was a complete mystery as Eddie finally got the courage to speak up.

“Listen here cowboy, I’ve been busting my ass for weeks and sacrificed my fashion sense because I wanted you to look at me. I’m done with all the games you either like or you don’t, which one is it?” Eddie tried to keep up that confident voice that he had when he first got here but his voice cracked slightly through his sentence. Steve smiled before putting his hands on Eddie’s waist then pulling him forward, a light pink blush could be seen on his cheeks.

“I’ll stop playing when you tell me how you feel,” Steve whispered near Eddie’s ear making him shiver slightly. Steve wanted to hear Eddie say it, if he could say whatever he wanted on a stage in front of millions he knew Eddie could confess his feelings for him in a small town in a little shed with only them in it. “The stage is yours.”

“Don’t get smart with me asshole and fine I like you, shit I’ve liked you ever since I saw you come towards the bus. You’re sweet, funny, caring, hard working how could I not? So yeah, Harrington. I really like you… happy?” Eddie was a blushing mess when Steve cupped the side of his face and started closing the gap between them. He’s never had someone make him into a pile of mush the way Steve did and he fucking loved it.

“Very.” Steve said as he leaned in closer to Eddie’s face. Eddie felt like Steve was taking to long and he just pulled Steve by his shirt so their lips could finally connect after weeks of waiting. The kiss started off slow then eventually it became rough while their hands were rubbing all over each other’s bodies. Both of them becoming breathless once they pulled away.

“Let’s put those hours of horse back riding to good use, yeah?” Steve said lowly before lifting Eddie up and he wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist. Eddie’s eyes widened at the implication that Steve was making. For the first time in forever Eddie was speechless, Steve smiled before he pulled him in for another kiss.

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chainofclovers · 2 months

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some Beard/Ted for your Sunday

I shared this little snippet in discord and figured I'd put it here too. :) It's a standalone first kiss moment, although my intention is that it's a prequel to "anchor; release." I'm not putting it on ao3 because I like "anchor; release" being entirely limited to Michelle and Mae's perspectives, but I couldn't resist writing a tiny bit of insight into the Beard/Rebecca/Ted origin story for @boglady.

There isn’t a type of force in existence—not spring, not drag, not gravity, not tension, not contact, not kinetic friction, not static friction—that could uproot Beard from his current location. There’d be no point in trying. He’s too happy to move. He’d either succeed in staying put or he’d cease to exist, and either of those options sounds better than even a slight deviation from present circumstances.

For once in their lives, he and Ted are alone in a room together without it feeling like they’re the only two people in the universe. They’re side-by-side on the couch, each with a beer bottle in hand, each in some version of t-shirt, slacks, sock feet. They are not alone in the flat. Clare is asleep in her crib, tucked into her little nook. (And yes, if Clare woke up and needed him, he’d be on his feet immediately, responding to a pull far stronger than gravity.) There are people in the kitchen, the four or five people—no, definitely five—still here even though the rest of the party scattered a while ago. Above the pleasant ambient hum of people nearby but only barely in earshot, he can hear Rebecca making the case for which cheeses to take back to the living room to accompany the crackers already sitting out here on the coffee table. Without realizing it, she’s speaking more loudly than necessary, using the specific voice she brings out when she’s drunk and trying to be quiet and courteous.

Beard glances at Ted, who’s tilted his head back enough to rest it against the couch cushion. He’s staring at the ceiling listening to Rebecca, a faint smile playing at his mouth. Beard leans back too, listens too.

All week, everyone kept asking him if he really wanted to host the party for Ted, if it was really all right, if it was going to be too much trouble. On top of single-parenting a six-month-old, is what he assumed they meant. But hosting this party has been the easiest thing he’s done in years. He bought a bunch of cheese, a bunch of booze, paper plates because he only has four real ones. He didn’t have to figure out childcare. He didn’t have to deal with transportation. The party will end and he’ll be at home because he’s already at home.

“Hey,” Ted says slowly. “This just occurred to me.”

Beard adjusts his head to look at him, just in time to catch the spreading smile. “What?”

“We don’t have to stop hangin’ out.” Ted frowns a little. “Well. In a couple weeks, but that’s way far out in the distance. Nothin’ to worry about right now.” He chuckles, and it’s nearly a giggle; if Beard didn’t know any better, he’d think Ted had helped himself to a toke of something. “But for now it’s like—I’m crashing at your place, so we don’t even have to say goodbye at the end of the night—”

“Just goodnight,” Beard says.

“Right. Just goodnight.”

There’s a peal of laughter from the kitchen. Rebecca. Then Keeley: “Shh shh shh!” followed by her own little burst of mirth.

Ted shifts just slightly so they’re facing each other. Not quite lost in his gaze, Beard asks himself if he is fully aware of the billions of people currently alive on planet earth, the hundred or so on this block, maybe ten in this building, five in the kitchen, one safe in her nook. He is aware. Ted leans closer. It causes Beard to move. All he has to do is angle his head just a degree or two forward from where he’d been (he’s too happy not to) and their lips brush.

They pull away from each other right away, but there’s no current of panic between them. They both click Save, and just in time. The room immediately fills up—a replenished cheese tray, Rebecca’s perfume, the thwack of a cork pulled from a bottle, closer voices, the dip of the couch—and stays full of everything it held just before.

#ted lasso #fic by me #beard x ted #beard x rebecca x ted #tedbeard

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llendrinall · 2 years

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Our Flag Means Death

The gay pirates show. I am amazed by the fandom reaction to that tv show and I am surprised by my own joyful reaction to it. I don’t remember when I was last so excited about something. I have been thinking about it for the past few days and I think it’s a combination of factors.

One, the show is good. More later.

Two, the show is complete. Yes, yes, we all want a second season, we need it, we crave it, but the show itself is rounded. We don’t have to pick the good bits around the rotten core, we can take it as a whole and enjoy it whole. More later.

Three, we as the public were tired of very bad fiction from the last few years. Or at least I was very tired. I look back and, really? I had erased from my mind that there ever was a Sherlock Season 4 and I’m sorry to remind you now. And, Marvel? And Fantastic Beasts? Giving fandom even less than what Supernatural was giving. No musical motives, no carefully chosen palette to link two characters, just bland consumer-ready fiction.

We were starved for stories with density, with something to pick apart and analyze. I am compulsively reading analysis of OFMD’s elements (food, clothes, hairstyles, music, touch, skin, everything!). There are so many! Fandom is used to not getting what it wants and having to squint and read between the lines, but I think that lately the fiction products were so plain and formulaic that we didn’t even have that. No more, “look at Bucky’s way of moving compared to the Winter Soldier” or “Fandom likes Loki because he is female-coded and women know how it feels to be the second place in affection despite being better”. It was all sugar coating and no filling.

Of course, this answers to how I curate my experience and what I consume. Maybe I am missing on a lot of good takes. But it’s telling that the hottest idea I have read in fandom in the last two years is this essay: Everybody is beautiful and no one is horny (so good! Go read it) which precisely points out that there is a certain emptiness in the beautiful superheroes bodies we are presented.

Now, about the first two points, the show isn’t good because it has an explicit loving queer relationship (it has three!). It is good because it is complete. As audiences we are used to pick little details and squeeze them until we get an ounce of meaning we can drink. And we love it! We hate the frustration of never getting more than that, but we enjoy those contextual details because they make relationships feel real and organic.

Too often, white heterosexual relationships are built on empty ground. There is a man, there is a woman and by the laws of cheap narrative they must like each other despite not showing any chemistry on screen. It’s only natural that the woman would show instant interest on the hero even though they barely talked through the movie. Do I need to give examples? Come on, just think of any movie and tell me, why were those two together again?

OFMD doesn’t build relationships like that. Making the queer relationships explicit doesn’t mean they can now be lazy and simply push the two characters together. No, we still get the beautiful hints, the slowly built tension, the story written and coded in the empty spaces. This is good writing.

The show is complete (despite the devastating need for a second season) because it can be consumed whole. There is no obvious element missing, nor things we would rather not see and that we swallow because we have to. There is not “if only” hanging in the air. Sure, some say they would have liked to see more women and more of Mary, but I’m very happy with what we saw of her in episode 10, plus considering the things we have had to put up with…

Orange is the New Black was the first show where I saw different bodies (fat bodies, thin bodies, tall, short, young, aging, white, black, brown…). It was so revolutionary to see so many different women! Especially 40+ aged women. But the show is a drama and there is sexual assault and after a couple of seasons it derails badly.

Brooklyn 99 was the first show where I saw “more than one”. More than one Latina woman. More than one black man. Eventually more than one queer character. And it’s a comedy! In which the white male hero actually listens and checks his behavior and apologizes and gives up prizes. But it’s also a cop show and even though they had tackled the topic of racism… Yeah, no.

Galavant is a gorgeous musical comedy in a fantasy setting. Amazing. Very recommendable. It tried new things. There is a different take on masculinity. But the best part are the songs not the story.

These are shows I like, but all of them have a missing piece. I won’t say that OFMD is perfect, but it is rounded and complete where other shows aren’t. It’s balanced. And it’s always giving content. When you aren’t watching the two oblivious idiots fall in love, you are watching POC representation and colonialism and class relations (oh, boy, class relations) and different definitions of what it means to be a man and just a bunch of idiots making each other better, together, by unlearning toxic lessons.

We were licking at the syrup of dummy cakes, looking for crumbs, and finally, finally, we have an actual cake with filling and cream and an orange –not a cherry, no, an actual orange– sliced in two at the top.

#ofmd #our flag means death #meta #analysis #writing

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jilyarchive · 2 years

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OCTOBER AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: MISSGRYFFIN

Q: Where can we find you and your stories?

A: @missgryffin, AO3

Q: How would you describe your writing style?

A: Intense, sexy, snappy, and fast-paced. I have a rampant imagination and love a good sexual tension build-up, so my fics usually include a lot of plot, drama, and (of course) smut.

Q: How do you come up with ideas for your writing?

A: It’s such a grab-bag. A pretty substantial number of my fics have originated from prompts, actually! I also draw a lot on TV shows/movies I’ve seen, novels I’ve read, tropes I see that I’m inspired to try, etc. Also, I find that a lot of my ideas actually form while I’m writing. I’ll go in with a sense of direction, but it’s not until I’m writing and really in the thick of it that the details take shape, and then new ideas begin to spout off from there, based on what I learn about what the characters and story need.

Q: When and why did you begin writing fanfiction?

A: Technically, during the two-year wait between the releases of books 5 and 6, because I was utterly HP obsessed, my imagination was in overdrive thinking about what could happen in the final two books, and I had discovered MuggleNet fanfiction / FFN by that point, so I’d been devouring all of that early era of HP fanfic. I actually have a giant binder of my own fanfic writing from that period; I would type up stories in Word, format them with fun fonts and fan art covers I found online, and print them out for myself. (Which, I still do this!) Fun fact: there’s even a Marauders story in there that I had completely forgotten about that has a striking resemblance to the bones of Eternal Summer. It genuinely freaked me out a little when I found it, ha!

But even though I wrote creatively through most of my childhood/school phases of life, I had taken a pretty substantial break in early adulthood and didn’t “return” to writing until the pandemic in 2020. Life was bizarre, Netflix had gotten boring, and I was craving a creative outlet or hobby that could make lockdown bearable. I randomly stumbled my way back to fanfic / fandom, and here we are!

Q: What’s one thing you’d tell someone who is considering reading one of your fics?

A: Buckle up! 🎢 Also, I hope you are either i) at home, or ii) have a really great NSFW poker face 😅 But to give a more serious answer, I’d say that I write a wide range of tones, and I really lean in to what that tone is. If a fic is tagged for fluff and crack, it will be so adorably sweet and cringe-funny that your face will hurt from smiling. If a fic is tagged for angst and darker themes, it will feel like a knife to the gut. (If it’s tagged for all of the above—cough Eternal Summer cough—you’re at the front of a line for a wild rollercoaster, my friend!) Since I write both extremes, I’m never offended when readers skip fics or prefer one “genre” to another. But please know that Jily is always endgame in all of my stories—that’s the whole reason why we’re here 💗

Q: What are some of your favorite Jily tropes?

A: Enemies to lovers is my #1, even if it’s more of that “enemies-ish” rivalry at the beginning. There’s just nothing more quintessentially Jily to me than the process of them discovering more layers to the other person and slowly realizing that the other person is so much more than the antagonist they’d built up in their head. (And that they -gasp- actually…like them! Worse, they like them like them! A lot!) Gets me every time.

Other favorites include There Was Only One Bed, Hurt/Comfort, and Forced Proximity/Stuck/Trapped.

Q: What do you like most about the Jily fandom?

A: That we celebrate how much of a power couple Jily is. I’m going to quote @jilyss’ answer for this because it’s so true: we understand James has an arrogant streak but grew up, we celebrate Lily for the intelligent, strong, cool, bamf woman she is, and we appreciate how they’re true, complementary equals finding real, raw love with one another. (And also all the wonderful reader and fellow-writer friends I’ve made! 😘)

Q: Pick a favourite Marauders era character.

A: My man JP. From only the few hints we get about him in the books, we know he’s such a dynamic person, and I really love bringing him to life. Also, his growth/redemption story deserved more air-time, so I’m glad fanfic is here to fill that gap.

Q: Self-promo time! List the fics that you are most proud of writing.

Eternal Summer – My first born! Even though it’s far from being finished and needs a lot of work, I’m really proud of the world-building I’ve done thus far.

Vindicated – This was thrilling for me to write because it’s a total departure from what I’d previously written: second chances, canon-divergent AU, American settings, original characters, more adult relationship, etc. I have more planned for this universe and I’m really excited for it.

for the hope of it all – My latest completed fic. I challenged myself to write a softer, friends-to-lovers, mutually pining kind of summer fic, and this came together in a flood. But what makes me proud is that with this fic, I could really see how much my writing has evolved and improved from those early ES days.

Q: Fic rec time! Could you recommend a few of your favourite Jily fics?

Of Chrysalism by @maraudersftw – It’s only a short one-shot, but the way this fic haunts me!! Exquisite.

The Wedding Ring by @mppmaraudergirl – Lauren is the Nancy Meyers of Jily, and this fic is the epitome of that. A total comfort fic for me; I want it to be a movie that I can play in my living room over and over again until I know it by heart.

Eighteen Again by @scriibble-fics – If I didn’t know scriibble was getting her PhD in History, I’d think she was a screenwriter. The world-building in this fic is like no other—I’m in a constant state of chills when I read it. The emotional depth, the heartbreak, the romance, the political intrigue…it’s one of those fics that never leaves you.

Thank you @missgryffin for letting us ‘interview’ you and for sharing your fics with us! ❤️

#october author spotlight #author spotlight #thank you!!#its requested author month #next will be another random selection :)

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whoslaurapalmer · 10 months

Note

what are lemony and ernest doing right now?

lemony and baby bea are staying at the hotel ernest and frank are running post hotel denouement and lemony and ernest are pretending not to recognize each other but the tension is slowly and steadily building and any moment now, one of them is going to snap, and they’ll have a dinner date, because they are classy.

(this is not my best, but i tried!!)

GASP!! no no this is perfect. of COURSE they have a dinner date; both of them ARE so classy it is no less than pretentious and candlelit. babybea picks out lemony's tie. (it is green. lemony is too touched to tell her he's never been one for green. more pressing is, in fact, where did she find the tie?) (lemony, you think your niece leaves home without a bag prepared for any event?? she's probably got a broadsword in there somewhere. it's foldable. she made it herself and she's very proud of it. don't tell violet.)

but first, let's backtrack a little --

lemony and ernest have not spoken since lemony's research for the books, which was, oh that's always a hard timeline to pin down no matter what theory you roll with, but let's say a few years ago at minimum, and it was probably very slim communication anyway. neither of them were probably in a great place to say anything more? it was very formal, barely anything, mostly confirming details. and before THAT, it was many, many years previously, when beatrice and bertrand were still alive, and of course everything was very dicey for a whole host of reasons, nearly half of them schism related. and nothing, special ever happened between lemony and ernest. nothing really at all ever happened between them, nothing like a friendship and especially not a relationship. but they looked at each other and had an understanding, back then. there was a respect, for what they stood for, even if they were not necessarily standing in the same place. and that alone was enough to make even an idle look across a room complicated. and to see each other now is -- it's a lot of things.

neither of them have ever forgotten each other. not just because they're some of the few left of their generation of vfd. how do you forget someone like lemony, especially because, no matter what lemony has done or how he's tried to hide, he's also made it so that no one could ever forget him, or what he tried to do? how do you forget someone like ernest, suspicious and untrustworthy and forgettable to the wrong eyes, but to the right ones, to the people who looked, clever and aware and charming, someone also trying his hardest to do what he thought was best? they were both very dangerous people, once. to other people, to each other, to themselves. but now most of the people that danger mattered to are dead. things are so different, so many people they knew and loved are dead. and now they're -- just two men, older than they ever thought they'd get to be, enjoying a fragile freedom neither of them thought was possible either, pretending not to recognize each other, lemony because he doesn't know if he should say anything, even if the only thing stopping him now is his own eternal anxiety, ernest because he is waiting to see how long it will take lemony to stop overthinking. and both of them are very good at waiting.

frank: why do you keep bringing that lunch table bread baskets? don't they have enough bread by now? ernest: i'm waiting for lemony snicket to stop being stupid frank: frank: wait, w h a t ernest: what do you think? five dollars for another hour, at minimum? ten? frank: w h a t ??????????????? ernest: don't tell me that's steep, you can afford it.

now, babybea poses a minor problem -- if she hasn't met the denouements at this point, this is terribly awkward, because she has not two but three total uncles engaging in a severe lack of eye contact over her head while she and one out of three uncles eat a nice hotel lunch, and eventually SOMEONE is going to go, hold the FUCK up there's a child there, but if she HAS met the denouements at this point, this is very frustrating for her, because she has three uncles engaging in a severe lack of eye contact over her head and she wants to know WHY.

babybea: uncle lemony, why does uncle ernest keep bringing us bread baskets? lemony, thinking babybea is still too young to understand the intense psychological warfare between old, friends?, while picking up a breadstick: you should never pass up an opportunity for bread, beatrice. babybea: why don't you just say hi to him? lemony: oh, well -- he's much too far away. i would not want to bother him. ernest, standing five feet away, casually leaning against a sideboard, going through the afternoon paper: hmm, might rain later.

babybea, who at this point has been given A Phone, texts sunny to tell her what's happening, and sunny sends back '🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖🥖' which babybea interprets as 'please bring the bread home'

violet: sunny, what are you laughing at? sunny: stupidity klaus: i KNEW we should've gone with them.

lunch passes, with little else happening. babybea asks frank if he's finished any new ships in bottles, his current meticulous control-based hobby of choice. he has, and they spend a nice afternoon together talking about tiny craft hobbies and different types of ships. she shows him her foldable broadsword, and he is both impressed, and concerned.

frank, on the phone: violet do you know about the -- violet: oh yes, i know about the broadsword.

so that leaves us with lemony and ernest, now engaging in what could be called high stakes hide and seek, only without quite, hiding, or, seeking. at this point, they, or just lemony in particular, i guess, have passed the 'should i do something' point and now it's more a matter of pure principle, keeping up this not talking not looking game. and ernest will never pass up a good game. they while away the afternoon wandering about the hotel, spending time in the same rooms just not interacting with each other at all, individually reading more of the paper or commenting on the weather or the food or the books in the hotel library (because of course it has a library.) (i've been in a hotel twice in my whole life. i am not. entirely clear on what they could conceivably contain.) (but also, OF COURSE they'd put a library in the hotel, for lots of reasons), just waiting for the other to break first. it's so. goodness, these two.

(let's also assume it's a slow hotel week. i did have a joke in here about other guests watching this go down, but i think it's pushing it a little.)

of course, it does start to wear on them after a while. all the not-looking. it does get silly. they wind up looking at the other when the other one isn't, looking. eventually, they find themselves in the same hallway, looking at the same painting of a frog lamp.

lemony: it's very well done. ernest: had enough, have you? lemony: i do mean it. i am afraid i don't know a great deal about art, but i think the brush strokes are excellent. ernest: ........thank you.

(i think ernest's own hobby of choice is painting. idk, i think he'd find it nice. calming.)

what is there to say? what other games are there to play, really? what do you gain by that? how do you exist as Just Two Guys At The End Of The World, When The World Is Still Going? there's a lot in here. there doesn't have to be. but there is. and it doesn't even matter to talk about it anymore, but it's still There, you know? some habits and old fears die very, very hard.

babybea, from down the hall: uncle lemony, uncle frank gave me one of his ship in a bottle kits!

but there is still so much else in the world, somehow! isn't it something.

ernest: dinner? lemony: that would be nice, yes.

SO, THE DINNER DATE. yes, lemony's green tie. ernest actually thinks it's charming, but fully agrees, it's not lemony's color. but they both look stunning in well-cut suits. they don't eat at the hotel, but go to a restaurant. again, pretentious and candlelit. wine is involved. they share a dessert. it is very much a date and also not a date, because it's a little strange, to think of it as a date, when you've just started talking to someone again. ..........but it's a date. there is a great deal of eye contact. it's very thrilling for both of them to keep looking up and finding the other still sitting there. it's one of the most terrifyingly normal things lemony and ernest have ever done. they can do normal things, now! what a world. wow.

(sunny: update babybea: they went to [restaurant name redacted] sunny: ❗❗❗😡😡😡😡😡🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐🥐 frank, looking over babybea's shoulder, because now he has to babysit, and you KNOW frank eavesdrops on anything. can you eavesdrop on a text? you know what i mean: oh, that's unnecessary. (frank, do you even text. do you even know what an emoji is. frank.) babybea: sunny likes bread.) (anyway, sunny wants the restaurant bread too. that's a fancy restaurant.)

oh, they do bring home the bread. it is reprehensible to not take any leftover bread from a restaurant. they do have a bit of a time trying to sneak it in their suit pockets, until their waitress just hands them a bag for it. sunny gets to eat a great deal of delicious bread, the next day.

#lulu talks about the sad lemon man #so i could not finish this while at the doctors office and had to keep working on it when i got home #however. i am VERY tired. and wound up going back and editing some things maybe more than i should have. idk #see. //i// want them to make out right away. however they have to work for it. so. so must i..............#and it was getting all that in there that took time.#i've looked at this for much too long is it even anything anymore. i hope so. i still had fun. hits some interesting thought beats #that i should keep in mind for later

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viscountessevie · 7 months

Text

Hunt On Dark Waters [ARC Review]

Release Date: 7th November 2023

Overall Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Spice Level: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

My Review:

Hunt on Dark Waters by Katee Robert is a contemporary romance set in a fantasy world of various realms. Our witchy heroine, Evelyn has a bad habit of swiping valuables with her sticky fingers. After stealing from her ex Lizzie, a powerful vampire, she escapes through a portal. Evie finds herself floundering in the magical sea between realms called Threshold. She is then rescued onto the Crimson Hag, home to our telekentic hero.

With no tangible childhood he could remember, Captain Bowen's unflinching loyalty to his ship under the Cŵn Annwn has been his life's duty. The Cŵn Annwn is a network of ships like the Crimson Hag operate under. He has always enforced their rules and vows with no questions asked. Evelyn is no exception to the rule and he gives her the ultimatum to join their ranks or die.

As Evelyn tries to evade honouring her vow, their two personalities clash. Tensions turn into something more. Through their journey together, secrets begin to surface and they both start questioning everything they have stood for.

~~~

This was one of my most anticipated books of the year and really took my time with this as I did not want it to end. I adored the book and am really loving Katee in this point of her writing career -consisting of epic sagas with political themes and great messaging. Just like I have been enjoying the ride through Dark Olympus, she is now taking us to the sea across the magical Threshold.

The world building was done extremely well. It was an immersive experience. From the physical space of Evelyn's world to the Threshold sea and the various islands surrounding it. Then we were introduced how the Crimson Hag is run and what exactly the Cŵn Annwn are.

On to the characters, I loved how fleshed out Evelyn and Bowen are as individuals before they get together. They are both very different people and feel so distinct in their point of views. I usually find that multiple point of views can get muddled with an author's narrative voice if there isn't a unique tone for the different characters.

However, Katee did excellent in distinguishing between Evelyn and Bowen's chapters. The differences were stark and it was a good contrast between the two. Evie initially starts out as a witty, sarcastic fun loving witch with a sentimental streak and some familial grief for baggage. While Bowen is a straight-laced Eldest Child coded man who is always following the rules of the Cŵn Annwn and would never think twice about going against them. He is very much of the mindset not to bite the hand that fed him. Or in his case, the people who saved and took him in as their own.

These two really go through a brilliant development over the course of the book. Flighty Evie finally finds herself a cause and someone to anchor herself to. On the other hand, Bowen starts to question the cracks within the corrupt system that is the Cŵn Annwn.

The main allegory within the book I really enjoyed was The Cŵn Annwn. They were meant to parallel the militarised police in our world. Katee does a great job of showing something isn't quite right with their organisation from the very start. Then slowly peels back the layers of Cŵn Annwn with each act to reveal their true colours. It is mostly through Bowen's point of view, whose gratitude comes from being taken in years ago. When Evie starts to question their modus operandi, we realise it's terrible system. It hits harder when Bowen has to confront the fact that he and his crew weren't really 'one of the good ones' and were just upholding a corrupt system.

In line with this, the plot was detailed, very thought out and well-paced. While there are loose ends regarding Bowen's past and a big event that happened to close off Act 2, I'm confident it will all be tied up in due time. The Act 2 Event is going to come back full circle in the next book as hinted in it's summary. As for the overarching plot of the series, it's been well set up. The direction the bigger story is taking is very clear. I am very excited for my favourite non-binary characters, Kit and Nox to hopefully show up! The way those two were being written, I'm hoping for either recurring roles or respective books for them.

As for the romance, it was solid. I liked their chemistry and banter in their scenes together. However, I felt that the development from lust to love could have been drawn out. Maybe by a chapter or two. They needed a bit more time to bridge the gap between being rivals who had an attraction to falling in love. It just felt like sex was substituted in when we could have gotten one or two more scenes to give their connection more depth. This was slightly remedied during their love declarations which pinpointed the moments they started to fall for the other.

Overall, I loved this book! Katee definitely delivered on all fronts. She has done it once again with her intricate way she built this universe - with Threshold and its interesting characters. This was a great first book with a sweet romance while wondefully setting up the upcoming series. I'm certain we will be seeing some recurring characters as they all come together to work towards their common goal. I definitely would recommend this for anyone looking for a pirate fantasy romance, vibrant settings and for those wanting to invest in an epic saga!

Thank you to Random House UK, Cornerstone, Del Rey for an advanced copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

#NetGalley #ARC Review #Hunt On Dark Waters #Katee Robert #Romance #Fantasy #Hunt on Dark Waters by Katee Robert #Romance Novel Blogging

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utterlyinevitable · 10 months

Text

Where It Begins (22/?)

↪ series masterlist

22. And maybe some day...

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington Format: textfic Chapter Rating: T+

Summary: Moving day, hooray!

She was centre stage - the golden focal point of the image before him. The last of her bags at her feet and her fingers tapping the back of her phone as she waits. Everything silent except the tip tip tapping of nails on hard plastic. She’s so entranced, head slowly tilting, regarding the three walls in front of her so intently she doesn’t even hear him creep up behind.

Colin stands there just past the doorjamb surveying, watching as Pen draws it all to memory. The closet bare and not overflowing for the first time in three years, the desk empty save for her keys and sunglasses, her cloud-like double bed downgraded to poorly padded springs.

"Hey," his soft voice permeates the silence.

"Hey.”

Oh. Oh, that pensive look stuck on Pen’s natural face (her adorable freckles on full display in the sunlight pouring through the open window) as slowly looks over her shoulder, has Colin’s toes twitching. She looks as if she dares move too fast this will all pass her by.

“Need some water before we head out?"

"No, I'm okay."

Her brows furrow at the lopsided smile on his face. "Okay?"

Three strides is all it takes for Colin to wrap his arms around her shoulders, thumbs tucking under her top to rub her collarbone, feeling the atmosphere change solemn.

"Take it all in. Lots of memories in this room."

It’s true. Colin himself has had nothing but wonderful experiences here in this very room. All of them centered around the petite beauty in his arms. Waking up holding Pen, giggles as they watch Naked Attraction in bed, conversations across the pillows, all the times they did a lot more than talking. But most of all, it’s where he got to know her again. And for that he’ll be sad to let these good times go. To become whispers in the white walls.

"Thought you weren't the sentimental sort?"

He chuckles, dry and hollow.

"I'm just saying,” thumbs still working into the tension at her shoulders. “You've spent the last few years of your life here. It's good to say goodbye."

She’s quiet, her head lulling back onto his shoulder.

"You do this with all your hotel rooms?"

"Only the good ones."

He lets her have this moment; and another and another. Pen’s gaze doesn’t move from the window.

Lots has happened in this room. If Colin is feeling emotional about never being here again, he can’t imagine she’s faring much better. Penelope has always been strong and private but this… Moving across the country and further away from her family, leaving behind the support system she knows and carefully cultivated these last few years isn’t an easy feat. Hell, Colin couldn’t do it.

His hand trails down the length of her back as he moves. He steps back as she takes a deep breath in as Colin grabs her duffle and rucksack.

"Okay," she exhales after taking a long glance around. Shakes her head, pulling herself from the past and into the present. "Lets go."

A hop, skip, and a jump back into the van with a litre of water, a can of pepsi max, and the sweetest treat of all -

Pen’s knowing smirk and quirked eyebrow lounging in the passenger seat.

Colin dangles a duo kit kat crunch between them.

"We're going to be there in forty minutes," she chides. But it’s all in jest, he knows it. That unbelievable smile makes it so.

"Correction: we're gonna be having lunch in thirty minutes."

She playfully rolls her eyes.

And as they drive Colin gets that little flutter in his belly.

It’s been a full and fulfilling day. Her bed’s been blessed with two toppers and all the kit that turns it into a sanctuary, rivaling every luxury mattress he’s snuggled into. They’ve been building the Billy bookcases for the last few hours, and gave up to find the little bits of kitchen she’s had packed before food turned up.

Unsuspecting, it hits him like a gust of wind.

Pen’s on her tip toes placing her mugs in the cabinet of her tiny blue kitchen.

Something about the cardboard boxes, and the half eaten containers pad thai peppering what little surface space there is and the dim lighting this late at night and the back of her head as she begins to carve her marks into this new place...

He wants this.

All of this.

A home base, but more.

Colin Bridgerton wants to create a life like she's doing now. Those flutters turn solid roots inside him.

It’s time to grow up and stop running away.

#polin #colin bridgerton #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #bridgerton #bridgerton fic #bridgerton textfic

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svkunaxx · 2 years

Text

★ 𝚅𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝙴𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝙼𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

★ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚎

Alright, chapter 1 of flawless is completed! This chapter is kinda boring so apologies for that! But I needed to get a good starting plot to this and slowly build up that tension between the two. Comments, reposts, and liked are highly appreciated <33

Comment if you want to be tagged every time I update!

»»————-　★　————-««

You shut your locker, taking some notebooks and pencils with you to your first class of the day. The hallways were buzzing with friends catching up on how their summer was, which unfortunately caused traffic in the halls. You passed by multiple different groups, taking note of how it was the typical categories: the jocks, cheerleaders, that one weird couple, the studious people, the DnD club-

Oh. Great.

Seeing a few familiar faces that you knew belonged to the DnD club meant that Eddie was definitely somewhere among the group. You averted your eyes and continued swimming through the crowded halls. The day had barely started, you didn’t need to be reminded of him.

After finding your first period, you quickly scanned the room before sitting down a row from the very back. The teacher rushed inside the classroom a few seconds before the bell rang, signaling the start of class. She greeted the class good morning, and began rambling about herself and the same old beginning of the year shit every teacher does. Finally, after what felt like centuries of monotone talking, she announced that the class would be doing some icebreakers to get to know one another. You could tell by the numerous groans, sighs, and eye rolls that pretty much no one wanted to participate, which was completely understandable. Who would want to go through randomly assigned prompts and listen to someone give dry answers back? No one would even give two shits what the other said, plus it never really worked to break the tension in the room.

“These 3 rows will turn around to face the person behind them.” The teacher pointed to every other row, including the one you were in. You lazily scooted the chair to face the person behind you only for your stomach to drop. You hadn’t even realized that you were holding in your breath until you sighed deeply. You were face to face with the one and only, Eddie fucking Munson.

‘Just my fucking luck.’ You thought to yourself.

Maybe the teacher would let you excuse yourself from class to briefly throw yourself off a building. The person who you mistakenly wasted months on just to be left behind was staring right back at you.

“Er..hey, long time no see huh?” The other chuckled nervously. You pursed your lips and continued to glare at him. Was he always this hollow-headed?

“Don’t fucking ‘hey’ me Munson.” You scowled at him, making Eddie wince slightly. Eddie was bouncing his leg anxiously as you finally looked away with a bored expression. The teacher had already given out 3 questions to talk about with your partner, but you could not give a damn about the icebreakers. Seconds passed by before Eddie, for whatever reason, began to speak again.

“So how have you been?” Could this dumbass not take a fucking hint? Not even bothering to look at him, you rolled your eyes before standing up to turn your chair back. Your body faced the front now, but you turned your head back towards him, still not looking at Eddie.

“Don’t act like everything is okay and we’re all buddy-buddy now. I fucking hate it.” You said before turning your attention to the front wall. Eddie opened his mouth wanting to say something. Anything. He knew however that whatever words that were planning to come out probably wouldn’t even reach your brain. He knew you would just ignore anything else he has to say, so he decided to keep quiet.

At the end of class, the teacher said that these seats would be your spots for this semester. You swear some god from above was out to get you. The universe was definitely not in your favor at the moment. Just fucking great.

________

From that day forward, Eddie seemed to pop up more than usual. Of course it was logical that you would see him since the two of you attended the same school, but it seemed to happen quite frequently now. That didn’t change the fact that you still refused to talk to him. It would just be better for the both of you to act like strangers, regardless of the fact that he had so much power over your emotions. Ironic enough, he was so unaware of it, it made you feel so much anger that you never realized you could feel. Damn him.

»»————-　★　————-««

If you haven’t already, read the prologue to this fic!!

@keerywh0re @riddle-er

#eddie munson #eddie munson x male reader #stranger things #st s4 #stranger things fanfiction

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jaesqueso · 2 years

Text

You’re next

pairing: co-worker!xiaojun x female!reader (feat the rest of the lets play ball unit as other co-workers)

summary: You go to the middle of nowhere for a team building of a company you joined only a few weeks ago, but can there be other games involved?

for the Game of Survival collab by @neo-shitty and the What Makes Us Sinners collab by @junjungsunwoo

word count: 5,132

warnings: strong language, suggestive but no actual description of anything, death, blood, descriptive murders, mentions of Squid Game, inspired by the movie “You’re next”

a/n: ok so here it is, my first time trying this genre, I had a lot of fun writing it and it ended up turning out bigger than I thought but I hope it’s not too bad and all these years of watching horror movies paid off 😅 hope ya’ll enjoy it! ❤

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

Nervousness runs through your veins as you approach the door. You just hope you got the wrong place, who would plan a team building event in a house in the middle of nowhere, so outside of town? But recognising the familiar vehicles on the drive way you must be right.

Taking a last glance at yourself on your phone you take a deep breath before lifting your hand to ring the doorbell. You hear steps inside approaching the door until it opens.

“You came!” You’re greeted by the adorable Shotaro that engulfs you in a hug. “Come on in, everybody’s in the living room. Well, not everybody, we’re still missing Yangyang, but he should be arriving soon.”

“Thanks.” With a small smile you let him take your coat and follow him to meet the rest of the guys.

Breathing in and out slowly, you try to calm yourself down. You’ve joined the company just a few weeks ago and you’re still not very familiar with your team so you spent way too much time debating on wether to come or not. ‘Please come, it will be good to get to know the guys better!’, you remember Jungwoo saying and honestly it was just a few hours before you’re back in the comfort of your bed, and you’d make points with the others, even if it was way too intimidating to be the only woman in the team.

“Guys, Y/N is here!” Shotaro announces you and everybody warmly welcomes you.

“You can sit over here.” Xiaojun scoots over on the couch giving you some space next to him.

The air between you two is intense, since you joined the company he was the one that has been guiding you and you could feel the sexual tension from miles away. He’s an incredible attractive man, not that the others aren’t, but there’s something about him. And you could tell he wanted to jump on your pants just as must as you wanted him to, you just hope the others don’t notice.

“Yangyang just texted me, he’s late so he said we could start without him.” Doyoung announces and everybody agrees.

You start playing all sort of team games set to “bond and build team spirit encouraging the communication” or whatever bullshit taken straight out of one of the most cliché books on the subject. But at least you get to share some laughs and find out more about the guys and you honestly feel like you’re growing a little tiny bit close to them.

And then there’s this one game. In pairs you have to draw randomly assigned shapes on a piece of paper over the other person’s back and they try to guess what it is. And who did you get paired with? None other than your office crush.

Xiaojun sits down first and you try your best to stop your hands from shaking as you hold the paper over his back. The thin layer of his perfectly fitted dress shirt allows you to feel every single muscle and you gulp, mind already imagining the piece of clothing gone.

Like a mind reader, he guesses every single shape you trace placing you two right in front of the race. When it’s time to switch you’re nervous you might not be as good and end up lowering your score but his touch, apart from leaving your heart beating faster, goes straight into your brain and it’s like you can see the paper on your back. With a flawless score you win the activity leaving the others cheering yet jealous.

“How can you not get it right? These were basic shapes!” Doyoung slaps the back of Haechan’s head.

“It’s all your fault, you’re the one who doesn’t know how to draw!” Haechan bickers back.

“Sorry Mark, I tried my best…” Shotaro lowers his head.

“It’s ok, it’s just a game.” Mark rubs his back giving the other an encouraging smile.

“But wait, I think there’s a tie.” Jungwoo points out and everybody looks at the score chart where it seems like the other two teams are in fact tied.

“I demand a new round!” Haechan quickly gets up with his hand in the air.

“I think we should swap partners though.” Doyoung rolls his eyes.

“That’s not fair, guys.” Jungwoo calms the atmosphere in the room. “We’ll do another round, each pair chooses which one will draw. And I guess Y/N and Xiaojun can sit this one out, it’s a clear win for you. Everybody agrees?”

Looking around the room you see everybody nodding and after deciding the roles they all get ready to re-start.

“I’m gonna get some more snacks.” You get up and head to the kitchen as Jungwoo initiates the round.

While you’re opening some packs of snacks placing them in bowls you feel another presence in the room, right behind you.

“Need help?” The whispering voice against your ear makes you yelp, a few chips falling to the ground.

“Xiaojun, you scared me.” You place a hand on your chest trying to calm your racing heart.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” With a smirk on his lips he helps you clean the mess. “I didn’t know you were that good at these games.”

“I didn’t know you could draw.” You grin turning your head to him.

“What can I see, there’s a lot of things about me you don’t know about.” He steps closer but you don’t move.

“I guess there are, I mean, we haven’t known each other for that long.” Biting your lip, your eyes never leave his.

“True,” he steps even closer, trapping you against the counter, “but we sure do make a great pair.”

“I’ll have to agree to that.” Your gaze drops to his lips as his tongue swipes across them before he closes the distance between you.

The kiss is hungry and desperate like both of you have been waiting for this moment since you walked into the office on your first day and you laid eyes on each other. Hands start roaming over the clothes as the your lips move more intensely and you get lifted to sit on the counter.

But suddenly there’s a noise, like glass breaking.

“Did you hear that?” You push him slightly.

“I’m sure it was nothing.”

Xiaojun pulls you back to his lips and you try to ignore the noise and succumb into your desires but then you hear screams.

“Something’s happening, we need go check it out!” You push him further and get your feet on the floor, running back into the living room where the noises came from.

Cursing under his breath, Xiaojun follows you.

“Get down!” You hear someone yell as you get to the door and instantly follow through.

Looking around you can see the windows are broken and there are pieces of glass all over the floor. All your co-workers are hiding behind furniture, except one.

“What’s happening?” You ask Mark which was the closest one to you.

“I d-don’t know, we were j-just doing the game and s-suddenly arrows started coming through the w-window…” Mark stutters clearly terrified with the situation.

“Arrows?” You scrunch your eyebrows. “What the hell is going on? And why is Jungwoo just laying there?”

“Shit!” Mark curses as you all take a closer look noticing an arrow pierced straight across Jungwoo’s chest.

“Jungwoo!” Doyoung crawls to him trying to wake him up but it was too late.

“What the fuck?!” Mark joins the lifeless body unsure on what to do.

And then you see Shotaro sitting next to where Mark was, hands on his head, torso moving back and forward as he whisper “no” over and over again.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Crawling to him you grab your arms around Shotaro’s frame trying to calm him down. “Where’s Haechan?”

At the sound of his name, Haechan groans from a hidden corner. Mark hurries to him only to see an arrow pierced through his thigh.

“He’s hurt!” He shouts in panic.

“Keep your voice down!” Doyoung warns him. “They might still be out there.”

“Who the hell is doing this?” Mark tries to pull the arrow from Haechan’s leg but the younger just groans more.

“Why are they doing this to us?” Shotaro’s voice is small as he looks at you with watering eyes.

“I don’t know…” You bite your lip trying not to cry too. “Does anyone have their cellphones? We need to call the police!”

“No service.” Xiaojun speaks for the first time since you two got to the living room, after checking his and placing it back on his pocket. “ But I think there’s a phone in the hall. I’ll give it a try.”

“Did you see anyone outside?” You ask still trying to understand what’s happening.

“It’s dark already and there are no lights outside.” Doyoung explains still trying to figure out how to help Haechan.

“How’s idea was it to come to the middle of nowhere anyway?” Mark sounds desperate.

“I think it was-” Doyoung recalls but gets interrupted when Xiaojun comes back.

“Phone’s off, whoever’s doing this probably cut the line.”

“Fuck!” Haechan screams and Shotaro’s cries become louder.

“It’s gonna be ok.” You hold him tighter. “I’m taking him to one of the rooms until we figure this out.”

Wrapping one of Shotaro’s arms around your shoulders you carry him to an empty room and help him lay in bed.

“We’re getting out of this.” You hold his hand. “We’re going to find a way to call the police and they’ll come to rescue us in no time.”

“Promise?” His pleading eyes begging you to be right.

“Promise.” Without certainty you just hope you’re not lying. “I’m going back to see what we can do.”

“No!” He squeezes your hand tighter. “Don’t leave me alone, please!”

“It’s ok Shotaro, I’ll be right back. Lock the door behind me so nobody comes in and only open if it’s one of us.” Nodding reluctantly he lets you go.

Once you’re gone, he starts to get up, grabbing the key on the night stand, when he notices a silhouette behind the door. He squints his eyes trying to understand what it is but before he can say anything he feels the cold of a blade swiping across his throat. Blood squirts all over the room, his hands not enough to stagnate the bleeding and his voice is gone right before his life.

Back in the living room Mark’s nerves kept getting the best out of him.

“Fuck!” He shouts. “What are we going to do?!”

“Calm down!” Doyoung yells back, hands holding his cardigan around Haechan’s wound, the boy still groaning at the pain. “We just need to find things to defend ourselves and maybe wait until the morning to go seek for help.”

“Wait until the morning?” Mark snorts. “Fuck this, I’m gonna get the police myself.”

“Mark wait!” Doyoung calls but the boy is already grabbing his car keys and walking out the door.

“Where’s he going?” You ask having just arrived to the living room.

Outside Mark runs carefully to where all the vehicles are parked, looking for his until he notices a particular one.

“Is that Yangyang’s car?” He tilts he head walking closer but suddenly his eyes widen. “Wait, is he doing this shit?”

Upon closer look he notices there are some words written on the window in red.

“You’re next.” He reads. “What the hell does that mean?”

Mark reaches for the door, opening it surprised it was unlocked, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw inside.

“Yangyang!?” His hands start shaking as he reaches for him, removing the jacket that was draped over the man’s torso. “Fuck!”

With a hand on his mouth he steps back from the vehicle after seeing Yangyang’s chest and stomach slashed, guts going past the skin. He keeps walking backwards, in shock with what he saw until he feels a hand on his shoulder. But instead of looking back he looks down to his stomach where the bloody blade of a sword shines against the moonlight.

The weapon slides back from where it came from and he falls on his knees, blood bursting through his mouth. The attacker’s foot pushes him all the way to the ground making Mark turn around to face him.

“Is this a joke!?” Mark’s last words before the sword pierces through his chest as the attacker finishes the job.

“We can’t just sit around and wait, we have to do something.” You mutter.

“Should we check on Mark?” Xiaojun questions. “It’s been a while since he went outside and we haven’t heard any car.”

“I think it’s too risky.” Doyoung comments. “If something happened to him we might be next.”

“We should find some weapons.” You look around the living room searching for things you can use.

“You’re right, maybe we should go into the kitchen and gets some knifes and other sharp objects.” Doyoung suggests.

“Yeah that makes sense.” You already make your way to the kitchen before you hear Haechan groan yet again.

“I can’t, I can’t!” He tells Doyoung who tries to help him up.

“Alright, you just wait here and we’ll be right back.” He puts him back down.

“But don’t leave me here alone!, I don’t want to die, please!” Haechan whines.

“I can stay here with him and you two can go get some weapons.” Xiaojun offers, already walking to the wounded boy.

“Let’s go then.” You tell Doyoung and you both leave the room.

Instantly you start checking every drawer and cabinets placing everything you can use over the counter. You can’t believe just moments ago there was a high chance you were going to get lucky right here and now you’re trying to find a way not to get killed.

“Was that door open when you came here earlier?” Doyoung asks noticing the exit to the backyard of the house was only partially closed.

“I don’t know… ” You tilt your head as you walk to it but stop when you see red marks on the floor. “Is this b-blood?”

“Damn it.” Doyoung follows the trail into the kitchen storage and carefully place his shaking hand on the knob slowly twisting it open.

You both scream when Mark’s lifeless body hits the floor, more and more blood spreading around the tile floor. In the wall behind where he was, the words “You’re next” are dripping in blood.

“What was that?” Haechan’s eyes widen and the muffled screaming sounds.

“I’ll go check it out.” Xiaojun starts to get up but Haechan grabs onto his arm.

“No, no, no! Don’t leave me here by myself!”

“What if they need help?” Xiaojun explains. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh man, why do I have to go along with every work activity?” Haechan keeps whining as he holds onto to his leg being left alone in the living room.

“Is he d-dead?” Doyoung stutters and you finally see a trace of fragility when he has been the most rationally and put together so far.

“I think so…” You state the obvious before turning around. “We need to go back- Doyoung watch out!”

Pulling him to you, the sharp weapon on the attacker’s hand that was sneaking behind Doyoung barely misses his arm. As you two try to avoid getting hurt by the sword that swings in your direction, Doyoung ends up slipping on Marks blood when you’re able to go around the counter heading towards the door. The boy sees his life flash before his eyes having become an easy target for the masked killer.

The sword lifts into the air and Doyoung closes his eyes but then nothing happens. He re-opens them and sees the attacker’s body falling right by his side, butchers knife stuck on his skull.

“Shit…” You pant having saved Doyoung but killed someone else instead.

“Thank you so much, Y/N.” He quickly gets up and away from the killer.

“No worries.” You take a deep breath, calming your heart that’s filled with adrenaline. “What’s up with the Squid Game masks though?”

“I don’t know, but let’s find out who’d behind it.”

Doyoung scrunches down and reaches for the black mask with the square shape, removing it to reveal the attacker’s identity.

“Jaemin?” He gasps.

“You know that guy?” You ask in confusion.

“Yeah, he was in the team before you joined.” Doyoung stands back up still shocked with the reveal. “He and this other guy, Jeno, were apparently doing some shady work and ended up getting caught transferring company funds into this bank account they had under a false name.”

“Is this revenge then?” You wonder.

“Mostly likely, after all, it was me that exposed the case to management… But they didn’t know, they just knew it was someone on the team.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I knew they were crazy, I just never knew they’d do something like this.”

“We need to tell the others. That Jeno guy is probably here somewhere too.” You suggest handing him the biggest knife on the counter. “Take that and go get Shotaro, he’s in the room next to the stairs. I’ll take what I can and go to the living room.”

“Ok.” He grabs the weapon and looks back when he reaches the door. “Be careful.”

“You too.”

“Get away from me!” You yelp startled by Haechan’s scream almost dropping everything on the floor.

“It’s just me.” Walking to him you start laying out what you brought on the floor.

“What took you so long?” He sighs in relief. “And what were those screams a while ago?”

“It’s Mark. He’s…” You can’t even say the others.

“No!” He cries.

“Haechan, where’s Xiaojun?” You suddenly remember. “Wasn’t he supposed to be here with you?”

“He went looking for you after you screamed, didn’t you see him?” He explains but you just shake your head. “Where’s Doyoung though?”

“Shotaro?” Doyoung knocks on the door where he believes he will find him but there’s no answer.

Reaching for the knob he opens the door only to see Shotaro sprawled over the bed in a pool of blood and the words “You’re next” written on the wall.

“Damn it, not you too…” Running his hands through his hair, Doyoung can’t help but feel like this is all his fault, if only he had kept his mouth shut.

“Doyoung!” You finally see him back in the living room but he comes alone. “Where’s Shotaro?”

“He…” His voice trembles and you can tell he no longer has strength in him to act strong. “He’s dead.”

“No!” Haechan groans both in pain from is leg and one more of his friends gone.

You remain silent, guilt taken over you. If only you hadn’t taken Shotaro to a different room and left him alone, maybe you’d have been able to save him, maybe he’s still be here with you, alive.

“Where’s Xiaojun?” Doyoung asks. “Don’t tell me he…”

“No!” You suddenly say. “Well, I hope not. Apparently he went looking for us but I didn’t see him, did you?”

“No. Should we look for him?” He suggest.

“Oh come guys don’t leave me here alone again!” Haechan whines.

“Here,” you pass him a couple of sharp knives you brought from the kitchen, “use this if someone comes in. But please don’t attack us.”

“Just…” He sighs. “Hurry back, please.”

“We will.” You promise and take two of the knives handing it to Doyoung, “Take one too.”

“Thanks. I’ll check upstairs and you search down here, ok?” He instructs and you nod. “If anything happens just scream and I’ll come running.”

“Same.” You two take a deep breath before silently going on your ways.

On the upper floor Doyoung glances inside every room, knife held high ready to stab anyone that crosses his path. Well everyone except the person he’s looking for. Suddenly he passes by an half open door and sees someone inside.

“Xiaojun?” He whispers grabbing the attention of the man inside.

“Oh, Doyoung.” He turns around with widen eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with Y/N.”

“I was but then you disappeared so we came looking for you.“ He explains. ”Why do you have that?”

“This?” Xiaojun looks down at the black mask with a white circle. “I found this here.”

“That’s what they’re wearing, maybe they’ve been here.” Doyoung wonders.

“Who?”

“The killers. Me and Y/N ran into one in the kitchen, he came at me and she…” He gulps, hard for him to recall the situation. “She saved my life.”

“She killed him?” Xiaojun’s surprised you’d actually be capable of doing it.

“Yeah…” Doyoung sighs. “But you’ll never guess who it is. Jaemin. And we think Jeno might be on it too.”

“Our ex co-workers? The ones you got fired?” Xiaojun recalls.

“How’d you know?” Doyoung’s eyes go wide.

“You just told me.” With a smirk Xiaojun continues. “Hey Doyoung, do you mind taking a step to your right?”

“Sure, but why?” He asks while moving to the side.

Xiaojun’s grin is the last thing Doyoung sees before feeling blood running down his face when an axe punctures through his skull. His body falls on the floor, face down, like a rug doll. The killer with a black mask and a white triangle steps his foot on Doyoung’s head as he removes the bloody weapon.

“So it was really him, huh?” Jeno says lifting up his mask. “Fucking dick, I knew it.”

“And now we know for sure.” Xiaojun adds. “Good thing I wasn’t caught as well.”

“Yeah lucky you.” Jeno rolls his eyes. “But now we got something more important to discuss.”

“What?” Xiaojun steps back as the other gets closer, tightening his grip around the axe.

“You said she’d cause no trouble, just an innocent girl. And now Jaemin’s dead.” Jeno speaks through clenched teeth.

“I had no idea that was going to happen.” Xiaojun shrugs. “Who knew that little bitch had it in her.”

“I know she’s supposed to be your witness to get out of this mess but you know there’s no way she’s coming out of here alive, right?” Jeno scoffs.

“Well, you could’ve at least gave me some time to have fun with her in the kitchen earlier, but you just couldn’t wait to start the Robin Wood feast could you?” Xiaojun roll his eyes. “Can you at least let me try to get some before you do it?”

“Is that all you think about?” Jeno tries hard not to shout. ”She killed my fucking best friend!”

“Jeno.” Xiaojun places his hand on the other’s shoulder with a grin. “Collateral damage. The deal’s still on, and now it’s all for you.”

“Collateral damage!? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking about-” Suddenly there’s a noise coming from the stairs. “That bitch dies now and who knows, maybe you’re next.”

Putting the mask back on his face, Jeno walks out the door searching for you.

“Yeah, no problem, I’ll take care of this.” Xiaojun rolls his eyes staring at the lifeless body on the floor. “You’re welcome!”

After searching the ground floor without any success you wonder if you should go up and find Doyoung. Taking the first step it makes a cracking noise that echos all around the silent house so you hesitate to take more. While you’re pondering you hear someone approach the stairs.

“Doyoung?” You ask but when the figure turns the corner you recognise the outfit. “Shit!”

Jeno comes running down the stairs as you head to the kitchen and out the back door. He follows you closely, axe in hand and a mad thirst for your blood. Once outside you have no idea where to go so you just run and run until you find yourself in the woods. You can’t exactly see where you’re going but you know he’s right behind you so you know you just can’t stop running.

But since you can’t see the floor you also don’t see the aerial roots of a tree that you can’t avoid tripping onto and fall on the ground. You try to get up and back away but Jeno quickly hovers you and you can almost see the smile behind the mask. Your hands roam on your side trying to find something to save yourself as he straddles your lap lifting up the axe.

“Good girls should know to stay quiet and not get on big man’s business.” He laughs but then stops as he sees a grin grow on your face. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” Grabbing the rock you found on the floor you swing it against his head with all the strength in you, making his body fall to your side. “Well, big men should know to stay out of good girl’s business.”

“Step back!” Haechan screams ready to throw a knife at the person that entered the living room.

“It’s ok, it’s me.” Xiaojun calmly says lifting up his mask.

“You guys need to stop scaring me like this!” Pressing a hand on his chest, Haechan sighs in relief. “Why are you dressed like that? Don’t you know that’s what the attackers are wearing?”

“You know,” Xiaojun shrugs as he walks to the other, “just trying to blend in.”

“Well you should take it off, Y/N and Doyoung might accidentally hurt you.” Haechan advises dropping his weapon. “Where are they by the way.”

“Oh, they’re gone, Haechan.” Xiaojun gets on his knees next to his colleague.

“What!?” Haechan cries. “No, that can’t be true!”

“But it is.” Xiaojun grabs the knife the other was previously holding, running his finger through the blade. “I guess it’s just you and me now. Who do you think is next?”

“Next to what? What are you talking about, Xiaojun?” Haechan doesn’t know what’s happening but his body knows it’s time to be scared.

“Wrong answer, Haechan.” Xiaojun lowers he lips to the other’s ear and whispers. “The right answer is you.”

Haechan gasps as he feels the cold blade slowly and painfully enter his stomach. Xiaojun twists the knife around making sure to destroy his insides and make more and more blood come out of him. Haechan is quick to take his last breath, already weak from his first injury that has been bleeding for hours.

Getting up, Xiaojun gathers some blood on his fingers and starts writing the famous words on the wall: “You’re next”. But then he senses someone in the room. Before turning around he slowly lowers his mask to cover his face.

“Oh it’s you.” He lets out a relieved breath as he recognises the Squid Game outfit with the triangle shape on the mask. “Did you finish her? This one is gone too so there’s no one left and we can just end this.”

The other person stays quiet but Xiaojun is too much inside his plan to even notice, throwing his mask on the floor and continuing his rambling while he finishes the message on the wall.

“So you made me lose my witness but we can still make this work. They’ll just have to believe my story of the ‘bad men that came and killed all my friends so I had to pretend I was dead to save my life’ or whatever.” Xiaojun laughs thinking he’s a genius for this plan. “So it will take me a while to go back into the office, you know, emotional damage and what not. But I’ll say two weeks until they offer me that promotion because, well, there’s literally no one else. Then in no time I’ll be in the management board and get you back in so we can finish what we started.”

“So that’s why you did it?” Xiaojun stops in surprise as he expected to hear Jeno’s voice behind the mask. “All for a fucking promotion?”

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like.” He turns around with his bloody hands in the air as he sees the axe Jeno had earlier on your hands. “Just let me explain.”

“You just explained everything, Xiaojun.” You remove your mask to reveal Jeno’s blood all over your face. “I had no idea you could do something like this. And you were in on their money scheme too? I guess a few weeks is definitely not enough to get to know someone. You’re insane.”

“Am I? That was not your opinion earlier when your legs wrapped around my waist, begging me to fuck your brains out.” He smirks. “C’mon baby, with those two idiots out of the picture you can be my new ally. Like I said before, we do make a great pair. In just a year we can be swimming in money on paradise island in the pacific ocean. What do you say?”

“I say fuck you, Xiaojun.” You swing the axe his way but he smoothly avoids it.

You chase him around the living room trying to hit him with the axe until he gets a hold of a bigger knife and starts attacking back. Somehow he’s able to get a hold of your wrists and knocks your weapon off your hand but your don’t give up pushing him onto the floor as you hold his knife away from you.

An intense battle as your bodies rolls on the floor suddenly stops when you hear skin being pierced with a blade. Blood starts coming out of his mouth as he looks down and see you were able to flip the weapon and stab him with it.

Rolling your bodies once more, you straddle his lap, removing the knife from his hands and holding it in the air. You take a deep breath as you watch his bushed face. Only know you notice the sun is rising as the light from outside shines illuminates his bloody features.

“Tell me, Xiaojun, was it worth it?” You ask for his final words. “Betraying all your colleagues for a few bucks?”

“I’d do it all over again.” Xiaojun has the audacity to speak with a smirk that makes the anger boil in your veins.

With a scream you lower the knife straight into his heart, finally ending the nightmare. But before you can celebrate the fact that you managed to survive this crazy night someone bursts through the front door.

“Police! Drop your weapon and step away from the body with hands in the air!”

Before you turn around and claim your innocence, you look down and realise you’re the one wearing the killers clothing with a knife in your hand and you’re pretty sure they saw you kill your colleague, how are they going to believe you?

Fuck.

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

taglist: @yokshi-unbeliebubble @nc-teen @yutahoes @dimplehyunn @iknowyuno @bebskyy @ne0cultur3technology @nurenciye @luvjeongjaehyun

unable to tag: @chenleyang @doahflix @criminalmindsz

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lifeofkaze · 2 years

Text

A Search for Balance

CHAPTER 2: THE FAREWELL FEAST

Find the masterlist with all chapters of this story here, the previous chapter here, and the next one here.

Tagging: @samshogwarts

The manor on the outskirts of Wigtown wasn’t as grand or stately as McRae Manor - the estate belonging to Matthew’s family - but with its sand-coloured walls and the high windows looking out over the gentle curves of River Bladnoch, it had its own kind of charm. Matthew tended to look down on the old building, whose owners - an elderly witch and wizard whose family had lived in the area for centuries - rented it out to anyone who asked, but Lizzie thought the Wigtown Wanderers had chosen the location for Lewis Parkin’s send-off well.

When they arrived at the manor, most guests were already inside. Several members of the press were loitering between the red-and-white flower arrangements on the front steps, trying to snag a picture from anyone passing them by. Sensing her disdain upon seeing them, Matthew gave Lizzie a pointed look, and so she braced her shoulders, put on a dazzling smile and walked up to them.

She was immediately spotted by a woman with blonde, oddly rigid-looking curls and a set of square, jewelled glasses. There was a vicious sparkle in her eyes, and next to her, an acid green Quick-Quotes Quill darted over a floating piece of parchment. At the sight of Rita Skeeter, Lizzie felt her inner tension grow. Her friend Andre Egwu had once put it perfectly: Rita Skeeter was like a firework - loud, flashy, and best enjoyed from a distance.

“Ms Jameson! Ms Jameson, a word, please!”

Lizzie’s jaw clenched, but she stepped over to Rita Skeeter, her eyes flicking to the excitedly quivering Quill. “Hello, Rita. What can I do for you?”

“Just some quick questions for my esteemed readers, Lizzie - I may call you Lizzie, right?” Not bothering with waiting for a reply, Rita Skeeter went straight on.

“It’s no secret that you and your dashing fiancé make for one of the most striking couples the Quidditch League has seen in years - if ever,” she said, her voice dropping a few notes as she looked at Matthew. “The wedding we’re all waiting for is set for next spring, is that true? Are you excited about it? Anxious? Agitated? Do you feel good enough to marry into a family as prestigious as the McRae dynasty?”

Lizzie opened her mouth to answer, but Rita merely glanced at what her Quick-Quotes Quill had written and carried on. “When can we expect two people as beautiful as you to have children? How many? You have been injured for quite a while now. Are you sad to see your career slowly coming to an end or excited to take the first step into a new life?”

“I don’t know what makes you think my career will be over anytime soon,” Lizzie replied coolly, growing more irritated with Rita Skeeter's questions by the second.

“Oh Lizzie, none of us is getting any younger. But I do know a secret to getting rid of those nasty little wrinkles. Invite me over for a chat and I’ll be willing to share,” Rita winked at her.

“See, Rita,” Lizzie replied sweetly, ignoring the hungry look on the journalist’s face, “I think I am still young enough not to be stuck with what life throws at me. I’m not someone who has to depend on others to make a living.”

Rita’s Quill was dashing over the parchment as she watched Lizzie over the rim of her spectacles, but before either woman could say anything more, Matthew entered the conversation.

“What Lizzie wanted to say is that the upcoming season and her long-overdue comeback have her full attention for now. I have to say, your glasses are almost as beautiful as you, Rita. Are they new?”

“Are you trying to flatter me, Mr McRae?”

“I am indeed.”

The smile Rita was giving Matthew was wolfish. “If the new season is the most important thing on Lizzie’s mind, then what about her contract? Sources have it that it’s bound to run out next summer.”

Matthew flashed her a well-practised smile. “Your sources are correct, but time will tell. I’m sure you’ll be the first one to find out.” He winked at Rita, taking Lizzie’s hand in his. As he squeezed it, the sharp edges of her diamond ring cut into the sides of her fingers. “If you’ll excuse us now - there won’t be any stories for you to tell if we don’t make it inside first.”

With that, Matthew put his hand in the small of Lizzie’s back and steered her away from Rita Skeeter and her Quick-Quotes Quill. When they entered the building and stepped into the vast room where round tables decked with white tablecloths, silver candle holders and arrangements of red flowers had been laid out, Lizzie looked around in wonder. There was a lot to say about the Wigtown Wanderers, but when a Parkin was leaving the club, they didn’t shy away from throwing a lavish party.

Matthew, on the other hand, didn’t seem impressed by the set-up. Lizzie would have expected him to have started greeting anyone he knew and deemed influential at this point, but instead, he was shrouding himself in silence.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him cautiously as he handed her a glass of champagne he had taken off a waiter. Matthew’s tone was cool when he answered.

“What makes you think anything might be wrong?”

“You’re very quiet.”

“Something you seem to know nothing about.” He shook his head at her. “What got into you out there?”

“Rita Skeeter has no business talking to me like this,” Lizzie huffed. The reporter’s audacity made her angry again just thinking about it.

“And you have no business getting onto her bad side. Haven’t you learned anything at all, Lizzie? The press defines your worth as a player.”

“My performance defines my worth as a player.”

“Performance means nothing if those writing about it don’t like you. Good press makes for a good image, and that’s half of your selling point.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “My selling point? Since when am I a ware to sell?”

Matthew’s face softened. “That’s not what I said, don’t be silly. But we need the best bargaining position possible to get you the contract you deserve, even if that means keeping Rita Skeeter happy. The Wanderers need you, and I don’t intend to let them forget that.”

He turned away, and Lizzie caught him by the sleeves of his dress robes. “Where are you going?”

Matthew nodded at a group of people at the far end of the room, who Lizzie recognised as members of the executive board of the Wigtown Wanderers. “These are the only people who matter when it comes to signing you on for another season. If we can win them over, we can ask for anything we want.”

“Do you think now is a good moment, though? This party is for Lewis, after all.”

“Now is the perfect moment. There are no better business opportunities than parties, Lizzie, trust me. What are you doing?” he added when Lizzie made to follow him.

“It’s my contract you want to talk about. Shouldn’t I be there?”

Matthew shook his head. “Having your agent settle things on eye-level with them makes for a more professional look. Have you ever heard of any of the big players negotiating their own contracts?”

“No, but I’m not Gwenog Jones. Won’t this make me look a little aloof?”

Matthew raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you trust me with your career anymore?”

“No, of course I do. Sorry.”

“Good,” Matthew smiled at her. “Go and mingle for a bit, darling. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He leaned in and kissed Lizzie on the cheek, his lips just so brushing over the corner of her mouth. His scent of amber and cedarwood reaching Lizzie’s nose made her want to lean in, but before she could do so, Matthew had already moved away.

Lizzie watched after him as he weaved through the crowd, nodding to people in greeting as he passed them. He was quick to start a conversation with Wigtown’s bosses, a winning and confident smile on his face. His eyes found Lizzie’s across the room, an amused look forming on his features, and Lizzie realised that she had been staring. Feeling her cheeks redden, she smiled to herself and turned away.

It was strange not being by Matthew's side when he was there in the same room as her, but he was right - he’d take care of the execs for her, and Lizzie needed to trust him; if anyone could handle them, it was him. Wondering what he would be telling them, Lizzie wandered around the room, sipping on her champagne and looking for someone to talk to, when a familiar voice called out to her.

“Oi, Jameson! There you are!”

Lizzie turned and saw Skye Parkin elbow her way through the crowd towards her.

“Almost thought you’d bailed on me,” Skye said once she had reached her. “Had to come in with the whole clan, obviously, so couldn’t wait for you and McRae to get ready, but you’re even later than us. Lewis was convinced you’d finally gone and ditched us for fancy drinks and snobby people for good.”

“As if I could ever,” Lizzie laughed and watched Skye empty her champagne glass with one big gulp before reaching for the next. “I just had some issues with my dress.”

“Did you? You’re looking smashing enough now, though. That one of Andre’s dresses? Thought so,” she said knowingly when Lizzie confirmed it, “but I’d prefer Quidditch robes over this frilly nonsense any day. Time to get you back in some, too.”

“I can’t wait,” Lizzie sighed. “It’s high time. I heard our new captain isn’t as easy to impress.”

“If you think you'll get a special treatment from me, I’ll whack that idea quicker from your head than you can say Beater’s Bat.” Skye’s grin faded and her face turned serious. “Jokes aside, I need you on your broomstick for next season. Yarwood wasn’t bad as your stand-in, but it wasn’t ideal either. Can’t do it without you, really. It ain’t right, you not playing for so long.”

“I miss it,” Lizzie confirmed, “but the wrist still gives me trouble. Matthew thinks it’s too early, too.”

“Of course he does,” Skye rolled her eyes. “He’d lock you right away in that dreary manor of his if he could.”

“He’s just worried.”

“Sure he is. Where’s he anyway?” Skye looked around as if only now noticing that Matthew wasn’t by Lizzie’s side.

“He’s talking with the executives.”

“What’s he to do with the execs?”

“He wants to set up my contract talks.”

Skye’s eyebrows shot up. “Without you?”

“He knows what he’s doing,” Lizzie replied defensively, to which Skye answered with a snort.

“Aye, I hope you do, too.”

Not wanting to start a fight, Lizzie decided to change the topic to something more innocuous. “Have you seen the new season schedule yet? It’s intense this year, but I can’t wait. How about you? Excited for your first season as captain?”

“Bet your Silverswift on it!” Skye’s face, which had lit up at the mention of her new position, clouded over a second later. “Shame becoming captain came with such bad blood in the family, though.”

Ethan Parkin, Skye’s father, had been seething ever since his second-oldest son and the Wanderers’ former captain had announced that he would be leaving to make a name for himself away from Wigtown. According to Skye, their shouting had been audible all across the training grounds.

“Are Lewis and your dad still not talking?”

“Not a chance. Dad’s deadly offended. It’s like Lewis is turning his back on the family, at least where Dad’s concerned. Even called him a traitor the other day.” Skye shook her head sadly. “It’s a wonder they haven’t started screaming at each other yet. Both think they’re in the right, and I’m stuck in a literal Parkin’s Pincer.”

Lizzie made a sympathetic sound. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Aye, but can’t really blame Lewis, can you? Not like he’s the first one to go either. Harris left years ago and is doing just fine. Working with Dad, that’s not for everyone.”

Lizzie didn’t reply. The only thing more relentless than Ethan Parkin’s practice sessions were his ambitions; more than one member of the Wanderers’ team had complained about him but as gruesome as his training was, success was proving him right.

As Skye droned on about what her father had planned for the season preparation in a few weeks’ time, Lizzie soon stopped listening. Her eyes drifted over the crowd, occasionally nodding along when there was a pause in Skye’s monologue.

All of a sudden, she froze. Her heart beating in her ears, Lizzie blinked several times, turning her head to take a closer look at the group of people standing at the front of the room. Her eyes swept over them, but the shock of dark, messy hair Lizzie thought she had seen had disappeared.

“Jameson?” Skye asked and waved her hand in front of Lizzie’s face. “You alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lizzie swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Who you’re staring at?” Skye was craning her neck in a very obvious manner, so Lizzie nudged her into the side with her elbow to make her stop.

“No one. Stop being embarrassing.”

Skye gave her a look, but Lizzie didn’t notice. She felt dizzy. It was those bloody earrings, she told herself. They were heavy and kept brushing against her cheek every time she moved. It was messing with her head.

“You sure you’re fine? You look funny.”

“I’m good.” Lizzie set her glass on the table, her fingers resting on the white tablecloth. “It’s gotten a little stuffy in here, don’t you think? I might head outside for a bit. See you later.”

Without waiting for her answer, Lizzie left Skye standing before she could offer to join her. The room suddenly felt too crowded, her dress too tight, the air too warm. She needed to get out.

Through the open double doors running along the length of the room Lizzie stepped into a small courtyard. She walked out from underneath the arcade leading along its perimeter and into the open space beyond, greedily breathing in the warm evening air.

It was a trick of the eye, she thought, it must have been. It must have been. He wasn’t back. He couldn’t be back. And even if he were, why would he be here of all places? Here, and after all this time?

Her frantic train of thought was abruptly cut short when a voice sounded behind her. It was a man’s voice, warm, deep and incredibly familiar, and even now, it didn’t take more than two words to send a shiver down her spine.

“Hello, Chaser.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #orion amari x mc #lizzie jameson #balance series #search for balance #sfb

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alittleillusionmachinee · 2 years

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since everyone was so great the last time around, I have another writing challenge! (again- no pressure if you don’t want to participate, but don't be afraid to post even if you aren't a fic writer :) write a blurb/share something you've already written about Lexi telling Fez she's pregnant....

Soooo sorry this is so late anon, thank you for the prompt!! Again, this got long, so putting it under the cut. Gonna go watch pregnancy reveal videos on youtube now, it's my secret passion.

Lexi remembers the first time. Months of blissful build up, crescendoing in a sweet surrender. Surrender to the love she’d built up for this kind man, and surrender to the aching tension swelling to a breaking point one summer after her junior year. Daily phone calls led to weekly visits led to the breaking point.

They’d been tiptoeing around the things unsaid between them, the elephant in the room stomping louder and clashing pots in their faces which they steadfastly refused to acknowledge, neither wishing to be the first to succumb. Hindsight tells her they were both enjoying the game too much, knowing without acknowledging the truth. She liked him. He liked her.

But the real truth was that it was miles past like. Miles past longing. They’d inextricably woven their paths together, the bright thread of Lexi’s future slinking onwards in a lazy wave until it found Fezco’s. They knew the connection they had was not normal, not typical. Somehow or another, they would be in each other’s lives for good. Their threads wove together.

She’d like to blame the heat, but that would be a flimsy excuse. In the moment, it did feel at least partially to blame, though. Posted up on his couch for one of their movie nights, old AC working double time to keep the indoor temperature below 90, they had slumped further in his couch and further into each other. She didn’t even mind the faint sheen of sweat sticking his arm to hers, or maybe it was the other way around. The fact was, no amount of sweat would separate her from Fezco.

The comfortable contact between them did get her overly active brain thinking, though. She thought about how even here, now, sticky with perspiration, he didn’t pull away from her. About how she even found the faint smell of his sweat appealing. She decided she was tired of playing the game. She was about to make the final move, but there would be no losers.

With no preamble, she reached forward, paused the movie, and straddled his lap. He was surprised for only the second it took for her lips to crash into his. Then, well then he learned the rules of the new game fairly quickly. He even wrote some new ones, picking her up and taking her into his bedroom. That night, California heat just this side of overbearing, they discovered what making love meant in every sense of the word.

XXX

Lexi remembers the next first time as well. A few months into being the happiest girl in the world, they get overzealous and overeager and join together without protection. She loves the new sensation, and only panics slightly when they’re done. She thinks she’s in a safe zone in her cycle, though, and either way, what’s done is done. She has to get dressed to meet up with Suze for lunch, so she goes.

What she doesn’t realize, what nobody told her, is that without proper clean up, she’ll have his cum slowly leaking out of her the rest of the afternoon. She hopes there isn’t a noticeable wet spot on her pants as she tries to carry on conversation with Suze. It’s exhilarating and nerve wracking, and she wonders how Suze can’t see it all over her face. She wondered that after the first first time as well. Could Suze see I’VE HAD SEX written on her forehead clear as day? Could she see it now? She hoped her kiss-swollen lips had at least been masked by her red lipstick.

They’re lucky, and no mini Fezco’s take root in her womb.

XXX

Until now.

They’re 2 years ahead of schedule. They’re only 1 year into living in their first home, a starter home in the city before they find their farm. It’s small, but it has what they need and it’s theirs. Roots spread from their hearts to this home’s foundation. They are also only 4 months past their nuptials. A modest affair that was stressful to pull off, but so rewarding they can’t complain.

So. There’s really no reason to put off the inevitable, is there?

Lexi carefully wraps the positive test in a gift bag and waits for her husband to get home. She thinks she might bake some bread to leave in the oven as well, while she meticulously plots out their new plan. At least she gets to focus on her writing two years sooner.

She thinks she’ll have a lot to write about by then.

#fexi asks #fexi fic #i had to force myself to stop #also this is so much less about pregnancy than it is about sex lmao #this is not edited boops

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thenightlymartini · 1 year

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I had an idea!

I know New Year resolutions aren't a thing everywhere, but because the New Year for a lot of places just started I thought it might be cool.

What is one resolution that each of them keep, and one that they drop?

You know, I honestly can't remember if I've done something like this before. I'm also not the most adept at searching Tumblr archives, much less lots of behind the scene stuff, so if there was a way for me to figure that out I just don't know about it.

This also gets a little tricky since I know Chinese New Year is more prominent in both Koreas, and I definitely know very little about it other than small bits and pieces I've seen on blogs, fanfics, and Tik Tok. Basically next to no knowledge. As such, this is mostly going to focus on New Year customs I'm familiar with, because I don't feel comfortable talking about Chinese New Year due to my lack of knowledge.

Also this is going to be long, so be prepared.

CW: light mentions of the Korean War and the separation, alcoholism, issues with weight loss, a swear word or two that is censored

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Kimchiburger: America introduced this concept to SK fairly early on after they began to build a friendship, and SK found it kind of amusing but also kind of a cool idea. Amusing mostly because, since he's lived so long, he knows it's mostly just going to be the same thing every year and most of these resolutions don't actually get followed through with, but cool as in it kind of is like setting up goals for oneself and sort of makes people try to better themselves.

America obviously makes one for getting into better shape or lose weight, which usually just doesn't keep for long because his diet is very weird and his expectations are extremely too high or too low. Like he under or overestimates how much work it will take or how much he will actually lose, much less what is actually healthy for his body type. SK has to remind him that at least he tried and it will take time, though he will love him even if he does gain weight.

As far as the one he keeps, America made one about trying to be less ignorant of other's customs. He cringes at every memory where he unknowingly and/or accidentally did something rude towards others purely surrounding customs, as well as constantly wonder if being belligerent and his ignorance caused unneeded tension between him and others when they could have potentially become friends. Thus, he makes it his goal to learn as much about other cultures as he can, even those within his own country, no matter if they are minorities or majorities. SK helps him with this a lot when it comes to Korean culture and pointing out the differences between cultures, such as eating etiquettes between Japan, South Korea, and China. SK would also invite the Philippines over to help out with pointing out sub groups in each country and how similar and different certain customs are across multiple countries.

SK tried making new year resolutions when he first heard about them from America, and he always makes the same one every year nearing the end of the 1980s, no matter if it is kept, even if only with marginal results, or drops catastrophically: Have a better relationship with NK. He knows he has very little control over it, considering politics, but in an ideal world where it was just he and his brother influencing their relationship, he would do anything to start mending it. They were bonded together and had each other's backs through thick and thin for centuries if not millennia, only for it be shredded to bits in the span of half a century. There was a time for a few decades where he truly despised NK, just because the wounds kept reopening and the resulting emotional rollercoaster was extremely chaotic, but his anger and feelings of betrayal have been tempered enough where regret and sadness have slowly started to form with some logical reasoning behind it. He's also starting to realize that the longer they are separated and at odds with each other, the less likely reunification will be possible, not only from practical and logistical standpoints like economy, military, and what not, but even from a cultural perspective where he's beginning to see that their own languages are slowly starting to split and certain cultural norms don't hold up as well between them. SK actually was terrified slightly when one day he and NK were in an argument and he was having a hard time understanding him.

Rusnk: From what I understand and have researched briefly, I believe New Years is a bigger deal in Russia than Christmas is, considering Christmas came back after the Soviet Union fell.

Russia loves New Year's. Not necessarily for the idea of "new year, new me" that is common in America where it's a clean slate, but just because a new year means a chance to try again, to learn from the previous year and do better. The idea of making a resolution is still a fairly newer concept introduced, but he likes the idea of them. One in particular that he made that he kept was try to find the good, beauty, or happiness in even the littlest of things. He's lived so long with bitter cold and such a dark history, often by his own hand too, that he's forgotten that not everything in the world is a cold, cruel place or is meant to break him. Even if it is only in a few things or even one thing for an entire year, he finds it as an accomplishment. He's recently started to see snow as more than just brutal winter and has started to see the beauty snow fall can be and the happy times winter can bring, like children making forts or snowball fights, gathering around warmth for celebrations and family time, the way silence doesn't have to be deafening or oppressive and that it can bring peace of mind. It helps that NK likes to indulge in these kinds of things on occasion, and often times will compose poetry with Russia as a means to help organize thoughts and see the better aspects of things.

One that he definitely drops is trying to cut back on his liquor intake, not necessarily due to liking liquor that much, but mostly cause it is so hard to do and political matters and emotional trauma don't make it any easier. He tries, at least around NK, to not drink that much mostly because the other tries to drink with him and it is an absolute disaster when the Korean does. He's also noticing the effects the amount of liquor he normally drinks is starting to have on his body, despite being an immortal. Probably died of cirrhosis of the liver a few times before he knew what it was in his time as a nation. He's realizing he has an addiction of sorts, but doesn't have the knowledge, constant support (NK can't always be by his side 24/7 and he lives alone majority of the time), and massive amounts of will power to either consistently drink less or kick it entirely. He still makes this resolution each year because he is learning from the previous year of what has worked and not and is getting better each time.

NK is far more inclined to Chinese New Year, but indulges in the Western New Year once in a while, mostly because Russia loves it so much. He's very much a pessimistic pragmatic when it comes to resolutions, since he believes people mostly do them as a front and don't actually mean to follow through with them, and that a new year is just "new year, same sh!t". He also doesn't care for them cause they are a Western tradition, but did some mostly to humor Russia.

One he did keep was just doing more creative things, like practicing his instruments or writing or drawing, mostly because he's realized he hasn't had time as of late to do any of them for several years and missed them to an extent. Thankfully, part of Russia's resolutions helped to keep his, since he and Russia write poetry together when Russia is struggling to see the good in things on a particularly bad day. He also likes to play his violin with Russia when the other has his own out. They actually work quite well together once they get through the rusty phase.

One he actually thought he was going to keep turned out to be the one he dropped, which was just trying to say one nice thing to people, whether daily or just whenever he actually saw any other nations. He figured out quickly that his attitude and temper make that really difficult for himself, and when they aren't a factor he botches it and will accidentally insult someone or stumble over his words because his social skills are near zero when not in a professional setting.

Commieburger: America loves making resolutions, but is bad at keeping them unless he has help, while NK is the pessimistic pragmatic that sees right through the sugarcoating and calls bullsh!t on them. The only reason America got NK to made a resolution at all was through compromise and a deal. America broached the subject with the idea of a shared resolution between them, that way both of them work at it together and progress will be made in their relationship. NK mulled it over for a bit, but gave in when he thought about how this would benefit them in the long run.

Their two resolutions were to be able to read each other better so they were more likely to be on the same page more often, which they did end up keeping, and the other was lessening petty arguments, which they debate over if it technically was kept or not.

A lot of their miscommunication, after some discussion, mostly stems from either not understanding intentions, word choice, or just a lack of accurately reading the other. Like, America often thinks NK is in a foul mood when really he's either just deep in thought about something or he's actually neutral (his resting facial expression doesn't help). NK had a hard time figuring out if America was actually boasting or was trying to hide his insecurities or nervousness with the hero complex. The resolution was open-ended on how they would achieve it, but it allowed both of them to generate ways that would hopefully work. NK was prone to doing round-about ideas, such as playing chess to analyze ticks and expressions of the other to get a general idea of certain behaviors or ticks he sees occurring in other situations, since he knows he sucks at directly communicating when it comes to opening up or just with emotions in general. America is more direct and will just ask on occasion, at least giving NK a heads-up that he's trying to ask about more minor stuff so as to not make the other too uncomfortable. Usually he does this while treating NK to food or drinks he made that he knows the other won't turn his nose up at, since NK is more agreeable when there is food involved. It actually worked better than anticipated when America realize he was no longer walking on egg shells with second guessing if NK was in a good mood or meant any of the things he says, especially with verbal ticks or slight expression changes or physical ticks. NK, in turn, became more aware of when America was trying to put on a show and became better at understanding the sources of these acts while being able to temper the other's fears or nerves.

Now, the petty arguments. America makes the point that what people would call "petty arguments" tend to be more debates between them, and, since major arguments are now only happening once in a blue moon or under very specific circumstances, shouldn't count as petty arguments and that they did keep that resolution, too. NK still sees them as arguing, considering they both get pretty riled up when defending themselves, rather than civil debates. He also believes, due to have been around the block a few times as far as age goes and has experienced far more in terms of nationhood in comparison to America, that he knows the difference between light arguments and civil debate and is very steadfast at keeping that stance, thus this was a flop. Ironically, this topic in of itself results in one of those petty arguments/debates between them that will still be talked about years later.

#hetalia #kimchiburger #commieburger #rusnk #anon asks #aph america #hws america #aph russia #hws russia #aph north korea #hws north korea #aph south korea #alfred f jones #ivan braginsky #im sang kyu #im yong soo

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