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somnambulants · 3 years

Note

i love your writing!! could you maybe do something with exes to lovers with nat?

word count: 3.9K notes: thanks for the request! i’m glad you like my writing! i also may...have started thinking about writing a second part because im super attached to this fic. let me know if thats something you guys would be interested in!

“Barton, you’re such a –“

Your world stops turning at the sound of that voice, everything else becoming static. It doesn’t matter that you’re standing in a room full of people that you’re supposed to be impressing.

It’s been over ten years since you’d last heard that voice.

Vaguely, you know that Captain America is speaking to you but the only thing you can pay attention to is her.

You turn slowly, and the second you lay eyes on her you know for sure.

It’s definitely her.

You see it the second she spots you too.

In all the time you’d known her, she’d always been so much more proficient at hiding things than you but you still see the way her eyes widen as she takes you in and the way her face shifts into something that resembles shock before she manages to mask it.

“Nat!”

You startle a little, having now somehow completely forgotten that Captain America was next to you and that you were in the middle of a tour of your new workplace the second you’d landed eyes on her.

Oh god.Your new workplace.

Your new workplace that was also clearly her workplace.

As she approaches, you futilely look for every possible way you can escape. “This is Y/N. Fury’s informant while Agent Emery is on reconnaissance. Y/N this is Natasha Romanoff.”

Natasha? Romanoff? Absurdly, you have the sudden urge to laugh.

She really couldn’t have come up with a better name after fleeing the country all those years ago? It’s a surprise to you that you hadn’t heard about her sooner with that alias.

Pushing that thought away and hoping that your face shows the professionalism you’re trying to convey, you straighten your spine and clear your throat. “Nice to meet you.”

Captain America’s eyes flick between the both of you. Maybe you’re not doing as good a job as you’d thought.

Natalia-Natasha takes the hand you extend to her and shakes it. “Likewise,” she says, and you hate the way your body still reacts to her voice all these years later; hate the way her touch still makes you feel.

Even more so, you hate that you don’t know what it is you’re feeling more of as you look into her eyes: fury or heartbreak.

She makes a flimsy –well flimsy to you – excuse and leaves the conversation after that. You watch her walk away, clenching the hand she’d touched into a fist as you resist the urge to put it through the wall next to you.

Somehow you think you’d have a hard time explaining it to the man still standing next to you, who is now watching you with a thoughtfully puzzled but not suspicious expression.

Not yet, anyway.

Your dreams that night are fitful and full of her. The first time you’d met, you’d been nothing more than children.

There are no children in red room though. Only fighters and a fighter, she definitely was.

You? Not so much. You’d never been designed to last more than a day in that place and you wouldn’t have, if not for her.

Natalia throws you back against the mat, again and then again and again. Each time you stand up with more difficulty until eventually, she throws you down so hard your vision blurs for a second.

You never had a chance against her, something you knew before you even stepped foot into the room and you know they must have known that too when they set you up against the most experienced fighter here.

It’s abundantly clear you’ve been set up to fail.

The next time she hits you, your legs give out beneath you and you can’t bring yourself to get up this time, even though you know what’s going to happen to you if you don’t.

You know how this works.

Bracing yourself for impact, you close your eyes and wait. It’s pathetic. You know.

The final blow never comes. When you finally crack open an eye, you find Natalia, arms crossed, just gazing down at you.

It might have been your imagination but her eyes don’t seem quite as hard as they had been before.

She extends a hand after a second of her just watching you and you watching her. A little part of you is convinced it’s a trick; that the second you take her hand, you’re going to fail whatever test this is.

Still, against your better judgement you take her hand and, rather than the macabre images playing out in your mind, instead she actually helps you stand, surprisingly gentle as she does so.

She gives you a second to reorient yourself and then her whole demeanour changes, turning cold and stiff as she crouches down back into a fighting position.

“Try again.”

Just as abruptly, you’re thrown into another and another. Quick flashes of the past that still haunt you.

Natalia taking you on your first mission.

Natalia holding your hand as you cried over the body of the first man you’d killed.

Natalia lying beside you on your mattress, running her hands through your hair gently when your nightmares became so bad you’d go days without sleeping.

Years and years of training. Years of bruises and broken bones. Mission after mission. Somehow, it’s all maybe not-quite worth it but it almost is – almost – because of her.

When you kiss her for the first time, you think that might be the first time either of you has had any control over what you do with your bodies.

You can't remember a time where you'd had something you'd ever wanted and you wanted her so badly.

You can’t get enough of it. Or her.

And then, one day, you wake up and she’s just... gone.

The next morning, feeling irritable and exhausted from your disturbed sleep, you walk into the avengers training room and find the one person you’d been hoping wouldn’t be there.

Of course, your mind spitefully whispers because of course it wasn’t enough for the universe to thrust her back into your life but it had to throw her in your face too.

When you enter, she has her back to you but you know she knows you’re there by the way her back stiffens slightly.

You watch as she stands up straighter at the words you throw at her back, unable to help yourself: “What is this? Babysitting duty? I think we’re passed that, aren’t we?”

She turns to you. “I usually come here early,” is all she says. She doesn’t respond to the bite in your voice.

You make a non-committal sound and then just decide to ignore her, stomping past her to make your way to the far corner of the room. You work by yourself in peace for about ten minutes before you hear the sound of footsteps and all of a sudden she’s in front of you.

“I need a partner,” she says.

You have the urge to laugh in her face, before it strikes you how cathartic it would be to punch her right now, no matter how childish it might be, so you stand, letting the weight you’d been holding drop back to the floor with a loud thud, and follow her across the room.

You both crouch down in anticipation and you take a second to really look at her.

Her expression is unreadable. The pang you feel when you realise that surprises you.

There had been a time when you’d known her like the back of your hand and now she's nothing more than a stranger standing in front of you.

It hurts a lot more than you’d thought it would.

This continues for weeks. You don’t know why you let it happen but you do. You get up early; you go to the gym; you spar with her and then you fulfil the duties you’d been hired to do.

It’s almost easy to slip back into that headspace of your whole life revolving around her. Because it does. All you do is think about her when you’re not around her.

Over those weeks, you still barely speak a word to her because at least if you don’t speak, you have some kind of power.

To your surprise, she lets you ignore her, lets you pretend you don’t hear her whenever she speaks and you resent her a little more for that. You’d rather she hated you as much as you want to hate her.

It would make it all so much easier.

Eventually, though, you break.

You’re not strong enough to ignore your desire to know everything; to know how she’d ended up here. And why she’d clearly cared enough to stick around and try and save the entire world when you, a single person, hadn’t even been worth enough for her to stay.

“Why,” you pant, mid spar one morning. She’s kicking your ass, as usual. “Why here? Why the avengers?”

You’d sworn to yourself you’d never ask her this question but the yearning to know has been burning inside you since you’d walked into this building over a month ago now.

Equally as breathless, Natasha drops the careful façade she’d had up and looks at you with those eyes; the ones that could have made you do anything at one point in time. You’re not convinced they still couldn’t. “I wanted to do better… be better than what we were…. Isn’t that why you’re here, too?”

That answer hurts you more than any of the hits she’s landed on you this morning. And there’s been a lot. She’s still the superior fighter, even if she had left so long before you.

God, those words hurt to hear. Especially to have you lumped in with the clearly bad part of her life, whether it was her intention or not.

Maybe that’s why you say what you say next. Maybe there’s a little part of you wishes this whole situation would hurt her as much as it hurts you.

“How… uncharacteristic of you,” you ignore the last part of her sentence because honestly: you don’t know why you’re here. You feel like you’ve been lost and drifting your whole life and the only thing that had ever made sense to you was her.

You know your bitterness has bled into your voice with your words but you don’t make any effort to mask it. And if you can hear it, she definitely can too.

In the blink of an eye, she stops sparring with you, straightening up quicker than even you can catch. You let out a breathless huff of air as she grabs the front of your shirt pulling it so you’re forced forward until you’re almost nose to nose with her.

You hate that for a split second, before you can control yourself, you lean in slightly. As much as your mind can’t stand her, your body has no such feelings and it still wants her. You know you have no hope of hiding it from her so you don’t even bother.

“You don’t know me,” she says. The words come out of her mouth fiercely but the look in her eyes is soft, beseeching, like she wants you to hear her. “I'm not that person anymore.”

Like it matters.

It’s like you’re suspended in time for a second, and all you can think of as you look into her eyes is of the woman you knew.

You hate that you still miss her.

There’s a flicker of something in her eyes that you want to believe mirrors the torrent of emotions currently taking over you – the sadness, the anger, the grief – but you know better than to have hope when it comes to her.

You know all too well how it ends. And you’ve had enough of false hope.

Typically, in a fight, you know Natasha would come out on top – has every time -- but she’s never had your anger directed at her the way it is now and she isn’t expecting the way you’re practically vibrating with it as you shove her away, so hard that she stumbles backwards, only just managing to stay on her feet.

“Clearly,” you spit at her as you straighten up, and start walking towards the exit.

You know she’s still just standing there in the same spot. You can feel her eyes on you.“Yeah, run away,” she mutters under her breath.

It’s the first time she’s shown you the attitude you’d been giving her for weeks and her reaction is justified, you can admit it, but you don’t care.

You spin around, fury overtaking you as you advance on her until you’re pinning her against the wall behind her. “Sorry,” you hiss, glaring into her eyes. “I forgot you’re the only one who can do that.”

“That was different.”

You laugh. It’s not a nice one. It sounds like an injured animal trying to claw it’s way out of your throat.

“Why? Because it was you doing it? Excuse me for not being —“

All of a sudden, she’s kissing you. Or you’re kissing her.

Either way, you’re kissing and you don’t know how exactly it happened but you know that you can’t get enough of her; can’t get her close enough even though there’s no longer even an inch of space between you.

She flips your positions, tugging you closer, and you’re abruptly bathed in cool air as she rips your shirt off you, shoving you against the wall.

Your heart picks up rapidly as she kneels in front of you, easing the rest of your clothes off in one fluid moment.

“I hate you. So much,” you tell her as you step out of your pants and it’s not convincing even to you. Still, you repeat it again and again as she kisses down your body – so tenderly and gently that your voice starts to wobble.

You hate it. You hate her.

She looks up at you from in between your legs, now on her knees. It’s such a vulnerable position that you find you can’t look at her and you have to close your eyes. Natasha digs her nails into your thighs as she forces them apart.

“Look at me,” she demands. Her grip tightens until you obey; you know you’re going have crescent shaped bruises tomorrow. Her gaze is soft and tender and just all consuming. You know there’s no coming back from it. You’d never had a chance, even back when you didn’t mind not having one. “Don’t look away.”

You don’t, not even when she finally, finally, touches you and your head falls back against the wall.

You hold her gaze the entire time knowing how incredibly stupid this is and not caring at all about how much you’ll regret it later when you’re thinking straight.

And regret it, you do.

You stop working out early. You walk the other way in the halls if you see her. You know people are catching on that something is going on between the both of you; have caught multiple avengers giving you quizzical looks whenever you’re in the same room and it makes you feel even worse than before.

You channel all that regret into something more meaningful and commit to doing a damn good job at what you were actually here for. And you do. You can admit you do a fantastic job.

Every time you hand a report in or come back from a mission, you swear see a glimmer of approval in Fury’s eyes. Something you’d heard was notoriously hard to come by.

You must have done something really shitty in a past life though because after weeks of throwing yourself into your temporary duties, you walk into your temporarily office and are immediately flagged down by Fury, who debriefs you on the details of a mission he’s sending you on.

You’re thrilled for about three seconds until you see the name of the person you’re going with.

Agent Natasha Romanoff.

Fury is looking at you with a scrutinising expression when you look up from the file. Every time he looks at you it’s like he can see inside your soul. “Is that a problem?”

You grit your teeth and force yourself to smile. “Of course not, sir.”

It is a problem. A big problem, in fact.

You don’t speak to her on the flight there. Even though it’s only the two of you confined in the aircraft. You don’t even so much let yourself look at her. You can feel her looking at you multiple times, though, even though she’s piloting and should only be looking at the course in front of you.

There are no words exchanged between you all day beyond the times you absolutely have to speak.

At least not until you reach the tiny hotel room you’d been given.

The second the door closes behind you both, she turns to you and opens her mouth and maybe it’s cowardly but you cut her off before she even start speaking.

“I’m going to have a shower,” you say and flee the room with your entire carry-on, worried that if you pause to sift through your things, she’ll keep talking.

Still in the same spot, the look on Natasha’s face when you emerge from the bathroom is full of clear exhaustion. You hate the way it makes you feel. Empty. Sad. It’s exhausting for you trying to convince yourself you hate her.

“I’m sorry I left,” she says and you freeze. “I wanted to come back. Find you. I just didn’t know - i didn’t know if you even wanted me to.”

You’ve wanted to hear those words for so long. Now you have you don’t know what to do. “Why did you leave?”

She hesitates. The look in her eyes tells you you’re not going to get a full answer. That as open as she’s trying to be, you still don’t get to know why she abandoned you. “It’s a long story.”

The evasion stings. “An apology means nothing if you won’t tell me why.”

It’s an unfair thing to say. You know that but you don’t really feel like being fair right now.

You chance a look up when she doesn’t respond and find her looking down at the floor. It makes you wonder what — or who — she must still be protecting by not telling you.

It becomes apparent that she’s not going to say anything else after the silence between you drags on long enough that the tension in the air becomes almost unbearable.

You don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing the tears in your eyes so you flick the light off and turn the lamp on your shared nightstand off, throwing the both of you into immediate darkness. It’s definitely too early to be sleeping but you don’t care.

Eventually, after laying there rigidly for what feels like hours and listening to the sounds of Natasha tossing and turning in the other bed, you finally fall asleep and are immediately thrown into dream after dream that quickly turn into fitful nightmares.

Nightmares that may be more aptly called memories. After one particularly bad one that thrusts you back into consciousness, you bolt upwards, still half asleep.

You only narrowly manage to avoid bumping straight into Natasha, who’s hovering above you, because of her hand on your shoulder holding you in place.

You flinch away from her instinctively and she backs up to give you a little space.

The only sound in the room is your heavy and desperate gasping for air. Natasha, now perched on the very edge of the bed, bites her lip, looking at you as if she knows exactly what you’d been dreaming about.

She probably does. It doesn’t take a genius to guess.

“Are you –"

“I’m fine,” you say flatly. You stare up at the ceiling, absently counting the tiles as you try to slow your breathing.

You’re hyperventilating, you know it, you just can’t get yourself to stop. You’re also sweating, it’s disgusting. You can feel how all of your clothes are stuck to you. Your hair flattened to your neck.

If you hadn’t been dealing with this for so long, you’re pretty sure that you’d think you were having a heart attack instead of a panic attack.

But you have. Been dealing with it. It’s just something you’ve come to expect now. You just never thought she’d be here to witness it.

All of a sudden, as you’re still trying to calm your breathing, the bed dips below you.

Your eyes fly open in shock to find Natasha sliding onto the mattress beside you, still on top of the covers.

Gingerly, she rests her head on the pillow next to your head and fixes her gaze on the ceiling.

It’s slight but her hand brushes against your own a few minutes later.

You suck in a breath between your teeth, but despite yourself, you let her move closer, until she’s so close you’re almost touching, and you can hear her quiet breathing.

Against your better judgement, you let your eyes slip closed again. Seeming to understand you’re not going to push her away, Natasha shifts closer, until you’re both shoulder to shoulder, the way she used to lay next to you when you had bad dreams when you were kids.

She grabs your hand, and slowly, hesitantly, she moves it to her chest where you can feel her heart thrumming rapidly under your fingertips. Surprisingly, it still works; you breathe in and out, in out in out, in time with her heartbeat.

You must at some point fall asleep because all of a sudden you can hear birds chirping outside the window and the sounds of people outside in the street.

When you open your eyes, you expect to find the spot next to you empty and the covers unruffled, as if she’d never been there at all but to your shock she’s still there beside you, awake and on top of the covers.

The circles under her eyes make you think she must not have slept at all.

You slide out of the bed and head towards the bathroom without saying a word, where you turn the shower on and just sit under the spray for what must be at least an hour, letting the water run over you and trying not to think.

This time when you return, she’s gone.

The rest of the mission goes smoothly. If nothing else, you both work well together as a team. You can still read her movements like a book, and she knows to anticipate what you’re doing before you even know yourself.

The days go fine. The nights not so much. You don’t speak about it but every night you’re woken up by the same dreams and every night you wake up to find her kneeling beside you.

If you were stronger willed, you would’ve shoved her away the first time, but you can’t bring yourself to. Maybe it’s a little selfish but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

The last night of the mission is when you finally break, though. Something shifts in the air when you wake yourself up gasping and meet her eyes. The same eyes that had been blank and lifeless in your dream.

You know she feels the shift as well by the way she’s looking at you, cautiously hopeful.

You don’t say anything though and neither does she. You just lay there, side by side, and watch each other carefully for what could be seconds, or it could be hours.

Her eyes are begging wordlessly: Truce?

Despite yourself, as you gaze back at her, you find yourself giving in. For tonight at least.

Truce.

#natasha romanoff x reader

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mysticalrambling · 3 years

Text

Love Conquers All (The Originals)

Part 10

Part 10/10

(Y/N) means your name and (Y/LN) means your last name.

Warnings: none. Angst and fluff all the way.

Summary: Dad!Klaus. (Y/N) finds out that you are pregnant and runs away from Klaus. After five years of avoiding him, Freya discovers your secret and it will all be revealed in time. At last, love will conquer all.

._._._._.

Today was the day that the plan would be put in to action and to say the least, you were on edge. To put a cherry on top, Hope was being extremely difficult. Miss Hope thought that she was a big girl now and can pick out her own clothes. The rustic orange t shirt with an emerald skirt was the best outfit that she could come up with. However, the only problem was that you couldn’t let your daughter roam around wearing that monstrosity.

“Hope Andrea Mikaelson, listen to your mother!” Klaus knew that you were already stressed out and was on the verge of crying. You all stood in shock the moment those words left his lips.

“Mikaelson is not my last name.”Taking her elephant dummy out, she voiced her confusion. You knew that you sometimes had to tell her that she was a Mikaelson. Sure, she knew that Klaus was her dad but she didn’t know the depths of that sentence.

“Hope, your dad’s last name is Mikaelson and he would really like you to take it as your last name.”You gently rocked the little girl in your arms and tears welled up when you realised she will outgrow your arms in just a few years. She was getting so big and you didn’t know how you felt about that.

“I am okay with it if you also change your name.”

“I don’t thin-” “She would love to.” Both of you spoke up at the same time and then looked at each other. You wanted to become his wife from the moment you met him but you didn’t know if things had changed. Maybe it was still the same. You bribed your child with some chocolates and she wore the pastel pink dress that you had initially picked out for her.

The drive to Mystical Falls was uncomfortable to say the least. Hope’s voice was the only thing cutting the thick silence in the car and when she fell asleep in her booster seat, you just tuned in to the radio. Daliah was tracking Hope and you had to use your daughter as a bait. No one liked it but it was a necessity.

“You need to stay in this car with our daughter.”

“No way. I am coming with.” Unbuckling your seatbelt, you were going to open the car door but his hand stopped you mid movement. He made a valid point when he tells you that Hope could not be left unprotected.

Davina and Freya were already there and were quietly preparing for the ritual. Klaus knew that there was roughly twenty minutes to set the plan into motion before Aunt Daliah arrives. At the last moment, Kol went with Elijah because Hope got sick again and she only wanted to cuddle with her dad. You protested, saying that she was being spoiled and it would not end well for anyone. Safe to say, everyone ignored you. Now both of the brothers were on their way with the knife.

“Who is ready to kill some family members?” Clapping his hands together, a devious grin appeared on his thin lips. If he was not careful, the old Klaus might just make an appearance. That might not be such a bad thing.

“I am. The only thing that you need to know is that I will yield the knife and-”

“But why do you get to do the most important part?” Klaus interjected as Freya got to explain a new part of the plan.

“Stop interrupting me for once. I will use the knife because only a witch can activate it and you get to kill her.” Shaking her head, she continued,”Elijah and Kol will hold her down and you would simply finish the job.”

“And what about your two minions?”Nudging his head in to the direction, Klaus scrutinized them under a smug look.

“They are going to make sure that our beloved aunt does not get out of this circle. She will be weak inside it and we will have enough time to finish her off, for good this time.”

Meanwhile, procuring the knife was not a difficult task for the Mikaelson men and they arrived at their final destination in no tome. Aunt Daliah followed suit and the moment she saw Klaus standing with a girl in the middle of the field, she peed walked towards them. She didn’t even realise that she was entering a circle.

“You are a foolish boy for inflicting the same pain on your daughter just like your parents once did." The moment she step foot in the circle, the small figure beside you disappeared. It was an illusion.

"Unlike you, he is not cruel." Freya showed up behind her and stabbed her worst nightmare in the back. Literally. "Klaus, now."

He quickly retracted his fangs but Daliah quickly regained some of her composure. She threw Freya out of the circle with a magical force and was knocked unconscious when her head hit a boulder. Kol and Elijah came into assist their brother but she quickly snapped their necks with a flick of her wrist.

Suddenly, you started to hear commotion and when you tuned in your hearing, you instantly knew everything was going wrong. Speed walking through the land, you instantly went to aid your boyfriend.

"Hurry up, guys. We can not keep her in the circle for much longer."Davina called out as they kept chanting with difficulty.

"The circle isn't helping much, love." He choked out as Daliah suspended you and Klaus in to the air. You struggled to breathe as your throat constricted in a painful manner. "Let's talk in a peaceful manner, please."

None of you noticed Hope sneaking from behind because she heard her parents voices in the car. Seeing the two most important people of her life, she didn't know what came over her. It was like something snapped.

"Leave my parents alone!" The little girl screamed as a magic blast erupted from her. Knocking her great aunt out of the circle, she released her parents from Daliah's death grip.

"Hope, get away from her. Right now!" You didn't care about anyone except your daughter. Klaus started to get up from his place to protect his little girl but he was too weak.

"It's okay, mommy. I just have to concentrate really hard." Hope reassured you and before you could protest, she started mumbling something.

Aunt Daliah started screaming incoherently as blood oozed from her eyes and nose. Both of you were horrified when you saw your daughter like this. No one could imagine an innocent girl like her could do something like this. Daliah started choking on her own blood and in a few seconds, her heart stopped beating.

"Hope." breathlessly, you didn't know what to say. All these years, you thought you were protecting her from all this. But this was a part of her and she had to embrace it as well.

She slowly approached you and Klaus and you softly embraced her. "I am so proud of you, baby."

"You are my daughter, for sure." Laughing wholeheartedly, Klaus took you both in his arms. "Now, lets go home. My siblings will find their way home by night.'

"Stop it. Help me load them in the car." Finally, this was all over and now you can focus on your family. This was your time to be happy and nothing could change that. No one will ruin it this time. It was a promise. Always and Forever.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!! Like, comment and reblog.

._._._._._.

A/N : There will be an epilogue but this series has comes to an end. Really enjoyed writing this. When I first came up with the plot I really didn’t wasn't sure if I wanted to complete it. Thank you to each one of you for giving your love and support to this series. Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

If you want to send blurb requests based on the series (dad!Klaus) I'm more than eager to write so send me your ideas. I would love it❤️

._._._._._.

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

unusable faces

i have exams hence why i needed to write something exceptionally cringe :)

PSA: this is completely inspired from one of my fave writers own blurb @blissfulparker --> completely recommend u go read hers its much better than anything i could ever write!!!! (and just her whole account) = link

Summary: pure exhaustion and mutual pining, Tom Holland x actress!reader

^(just thought this was cute, doesn't really fit aha but full credit to op!!)

A scheduling nightmare would be putting it lightly. Perhaps almost unavoidable but that didn’t make it any less of a hellish form a torture. Harry had very helpfully said it actually was a form of torture, that is sleep deprivation. Y/n loved her job - it was all she’d ever really wanted - yet that thought was quickly becoming not enough to get her through the day. Not when it felt like an interrogation tactic used by the CIA.

To give a quick timeline of the past few days may give a little context:

Thursday - filming the fight scene all day plus an evening-turned-half-the-night-shoot due to some technically difficulties delaying the process.

Friday - flying to New York while doing read throughs of scenes for the next few days; followed immediately by getting glammed and filming the tonight show with Fallon; then a dash across town to the late late show with James Corden; then straight back on a flight to Atlanta that landed at stupid o’clock in the morning

Saturday - a full day of shooting in a mock grand central station set

The press trip to NY had been unplanned… to say the least. But the star of their studios other new release had taken ill - meaning they had slots booked on some of the biggest talk shows in America that would just be abandoned (angering the shows bookers too). It was a waste of perfectly good promo time and since the studio had their two other stars together doing a block of reshoots - it wasn’t a conversation. Much more a call demanding the two of them to be on the plane.

Normally this wouldn’t be such an unmanageable ask either, except the reshoot block was really rather time pressured. You see, the promo tour wasn’t far from beginning meaning they really needed the final film in the can. So really it was a bit of a mess. Just to free up that single day the two were in New York the whole schedule had had to be rejigged - in doing so they’d lost a rare day off too. It was just typical.

The joys of success hey?

Well, that’s at least what Y/n was making herself think whilst her incredibly talented SFX artist was in the process of crafting a deep wound onto her upper arm. The reason why she would be ‘dripping with blood’ whilst at a train station was beyond Y/n to be honest - she hadn’t been allowed to read a lot of the script so even now as filming was drawing to a close, the story arc of the movie she was headlining was still a little ‘fuzzy’.

“So I watched your ‘spill your guts’ thing on YouTube” Ellie giggled whilst reaching over for more prosthetic putty- a technical term apparently

“I’m glad one of us enjoyed the experience” Y/n replied with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the mischievous smirk on her face - no doubt Ellie took great joy out of seeing her suffer through eating a thousand year old egg. Which Y/n swore the taste of was still in her mouth… and it seemed as though it’d never leave.

“Oh don’t worry darling I did too” Nelli called over from the next chair along, where she was doing Tom’s makeup for the day of shoots. “Between that and the animals on Fallon, you made a hell of a lot of people laugh last night” Tom’s artist was referencing the fact one of Jimmys other guests was a zookeeper, so at the end of the interview he had you and Tom join in trying not to scream at the snakes and spiders.

“You mean laugh at us?”

“Well of course darling!” Nelli exclaimed back in an overdramatic bronx accent making all three of the women burst out laughing, Ellie’s unceremonious snorts echoing through the trailer only egged them all on more.

Tom in response, who had otherwise been absent from conversation for the majority of the morning, exclaimed a curse and jumped up in his chair. While you and Ellie collected yourself, Nelli apologised to him.

“Oh sorry love, I’m interrupting your snooze with my uncontrollable comedic gift” She spoke sweetly, even if still taking the moment to flaunt to the other women, as she squeezed his shoulder compassionately.

“No no” Tom waved off her apology, attempting to rub his eye before Nelli swatted his arm away - a stern look for the risk of ruining all her hard work she’d put into making his face look half presentable.

“I’m impressed you can sleep while they poke you with all these er instruments” Y/n added in, having only just realised Tom had been in a light sleep for god knows how long they’d been in that chair. It did seem a bit unlikely, being able to fall asleep as you were dabbed, prodded and brushed.

“Maybe you should try though Y/n… your purple eye bags are proving a struggle even for me” Ellie quipped back, now it was Y/n’s turn to give the stern look. Tom took the explain though, shutting her off from whatever kindly meant insult she was about to throw back at her friend.

“No normally never, I just….” He was cut off by an ear splitting yawn, appearing almost powerful enough to crack his jaw - which would be a disaster, for no one should ruin such a beautiful and sharp jaw line. “…uh-sorry. I just think I ended up taking my NyQuil and DayQuil the wrong way round in the madness of yesterday.” Only Tom, the poor kid often seemed to lacking in any form of common sense - even if those closest to him knew just how intellectual and passionate he could be about the right topic. Affectionately, Nelli scalded his idiocy by jokingly swatting his head with a little tut.

“I can’t believe your still standing then! I’m barely alive and I don’t have any sedatives in my system.” It was true, Y/n was at that stage where every part of her body felt ridiculously heavy… eyes included … eyes especially.

“But I did sleep on the jet back while your stupid self was studying the script!” Tom replied with a pretty inarguable point - at the time he knew her actions were stupid; when their flight took off at 11 PM he was certain that the most valuable asset to his ability to act in the reshoots today would be sleep - rather than character development. And he’d tried to convince Y/n that briefly, but gave up. She was bloody stubborn when she wanted to be.

“Stop competing about who has it worse cos I think it’s me and Nell”Ellie announced - making Nelli agree empathically with her coworker, nodding her head as she looked first to Y/n in her chair then back at Tom.

“Yeh because we have to deal with your unusable faces!!”

After much sarcasm thrown back and fourth, the trailer slowly ebbed it’s way back into serenity and peace as both artists focused on their work. Once Nelli was done she excused herself, Tom staying in the chair in favour of studying (more like staring blankly) at the dialogue for this mornings scenes. His pretence didn’t last long though and while Ellie was busy adding the final touches of fake blood to the now almost completely believable gash that she’d crafted on Y/n’s arm - Y/n had her attention focused the opposite way.

At poor little Tom. He looked so childlike, his slightly puffy eyes looked as if they had weights tied to them - they way he was having fight against gravity to flutter his eyes open, before loosing the next second only for the process to repeat as they dragged downwards. The broad muscles of his neck occasionally seemed to occasionally let up a little, letting his head tilt slowly at first until it gathered enough momentum to throw him off balance. The then sudden movement of his head unconsciously pulling itself back in line caused his eyes to bolt open prior to the whole cycle repeating again. All Y/n wanted to do was let him lay down someone, her heart feeling a tug in her chest just seeing him like that.

Ellie proclaimed her completion of the wound, leaning back to admire her work before looking to get an affirming nod from Y/n. Yet instead, she was too preoccupied gazing at the boy slouched across from them. “Someone seems a little distracted.” Ellie smirked, finally garnering Y/n’s attention, only feeling more and more smug watching a light tint appear on the actors cheeks.

“I-well-no… we need to go.” Y/n ignored her words as though nothing had happened, instead rushing off the chair to get Tom out the chair and onto the awaiting set. They had places to be.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| (bcos im lazy)

Honestly when the director, Ed, called for lunch break, it was pretty apparent to be purely as a compassionate gesture to Y/n and Tom. Both of them had tried so hard this morning to fully commit, even so they’d both been almost completely useless. Y/n kept missing cues whilst all Tom’s actions and lines where slow, dragged out and at times completely prompted from someone behind the cameras.

So when the lunch break was called there was only one thing on Y/n’s mind and what sandwich was available in the mess tent was not it. Still standing on the set next to her fake holdall bag she looked toward Tom, who was pulling himself up to standing from the train station bench - the pace of his movement making him look more like an old man.

“You good?” His answer was predictable.

“I’m so fucking shattered”

Tom swore he’d never heard anything sweeter come out of Y/n’s pink lips than her next statement.

“C’mon I know somewhere we can lie down.”

Without any sort of thought Tom blindly agreed, nodding as he took her outstretched hand in his. The gesture in itself brought a fresh wave of comfort to his aching limbs and as his feet stumbled to catchup with her slight head start he leant the majority of his weight into their connected hands.

Neither would admit it but they were ‘a thing’… whatever the hell that meant. It was clear as day to everyone and anyone that worked closely to the two but neither of them had ever broached the topic with each other. They’d worked on a few films together over the years; each time they got closer and closer to the point any job without the other simply wasn’t as good. It was scary though, especially for two actors in the prime of their careers. If they weren’t working the same film they’d likely be the opposite side of the world to each other most of the time - quality time together would be few and far between, Really their jobs didn’t suit dating at all, yet it would be perhaps easier if one half of it worked a ‘normal’ job. Something with consistency, a regular structure. A level of dependability that neither Y/n nor Tom could offer to the other.

So it was terrifying, acknowledging the growth in their magnetic attraction to each other. Both were acutely aware that doing that, confronting their feelings, would most likely signal the beginning of the end.

Although none of this stoped Y/n from returning the gesture, tilting her shoulder into Tom’s left side as they took slow steps through and then out the set building. She steered the two past the hair and makeup trailer and round into a store and extra equipment trailer. Tom tilted his head as she climbed the stairs whilst beckoning for him to follow - it didn’t seem like the most obvious choice. Rolling her eyes, Y/n explained.

“It’s where all the blankets and coats and kept for the raining scenes plusssss no one will disturb us in here.” Again Tom was not in a position to disagree, eyes drooping as his shoulders sagged to the floor. Right now he’d take anything.

So he climbed up the stairs and shut the door behind him, just as Y/n flipped the light on. She was right, it was well equipped and with an almost mountainous supply of red blankets that normally the crew and extra would all be wrapped up in after the freezing rain scenes with all the ‘waterfall machines’ as Y/n called them. However it was also um…. It was cosy. “Oh I don’t think I realised how small it was” She chuckled lightly, since now the door was closed her back was pressed up against the far wall of cabinets and still her front was mere millimetres from Tom.

“I…I don’t mind… if-if you don’t?”

“I’m too tired to care” She giggled in response, and Tom , now with her seal of approval, immediately started ransacking the piled shelves for all their worth creating a floor carpeted in the pale red of the blankets, in an attempt to make it more cosy. Joining in, it was almost remarkable how quickly their bodies suddenly agreed to move, with the new promise of rest mere moments away.

Once the trailer was fully drowned, Tom kicked off his costume shoes and threw his jacket off - it haphazardly landing by the doorway. Y/n copied him, leaving her stood up whilst he had the advantaged of already settling down on the floor, her standing and looking down at him.

The space between the two opposing shelving units was not close spacious enough for two people to lie down whilst keeping a respectable level of personal space. Suddenly feeling a wave of awkwardness, Y/n stayed standing, wringing her hands slightly - whilst fairly certain Tom could hear her heart running at 100 mph.

“You er… gonna stay there or?” Tom, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t a complete idiot - he could see she was suddenly self conscious. He got it too - they’d never crossed this boundary of choosing to cuddle into each other. It had happened once of twice accidentally over there 2 years of knowing each other. Both of those times it was completely accidental, falling asleep watching a movie with a safe distance of space b between the two, only to find hours later their bodies almost completely intwined. Tom would be lying if he said that his heart didnt skip a beat when he had awoken to Y/n’s soft and gently breath fanning into his neck. He’d loved it, but understood that was unconsciously breaking down part of the wall they’d both been the constructors of.

For fear of getting hurt.

So now, as Y/n awkwardly bent down and lay on her side, he thought it was imperative to make her feel comfortable. Naturally then, his arm slid round her shoulders and pulled her down toward his chest, releasing a little breath as he felt her relax, her legs slowly wrapping round one of his.

“This okay?” He murmured, now into the crown of her head as she lay half on her side half on his chest. In reply she nodded into him and Tom couldn’t help but grin- unbeknownst to him but Y/n was doing the exact same thing.

The peace lasted all of 3 seconds until she groaned again.

“What?” Tom enquired as she wriggled out his hold and stood up. Instead of replying though she just leant over and flicked the one harsh light bulb off making Tom chuckle as she fumbled her way back onto the padded floor in the darkness, earning a few grunts from both as she accidentally kicked Tom’s thighs or banged her head on one of the now empty shelves. Fumbling her way back into a comfortable position, occasionally cursing when she stubbed her toe- or Tom did when she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs.

“Comfy?” Tom asked a little sarkily as he squeezed her a little more into his side.

“Mhmmmm… I’m gonna sleep for 100 years”

“Yeh me… me too”

And with that they both almost instantly and in complete unison sagged into each other and the blankets - the pent up stress and tension of the past few days ebbing away.

What the pair had neglected to remember was that sleeping for 100 years wasn’t really an option. The whole crew of 50 people, who wanted to restart filming after 45 minutes, had not been told about Y/n’s little hiding place. The pair were so completely safe in their own little cocoon of comfort they were completely oblivious to their teams calling there names more and more frantically. Completely oblivious to the game of hide and seek the situation had descended into, completely oblivious to Harrys natural annoyance as the director asked him for the whereabouts of the two stars - as though Harry was childminder to the pair of them.

It was Nelli who found them first. She’d and Ellie and Tom’s manager had all been recruited by Harry as part of the man hunt. Both girls, having seen first hand the state of the two this morning, were fairly certain they’d both crashed out somewhere. So Nelli, already with a sneaking suspicion, opened the door gently, her figure blocking the majority of the light from seeping through to the dimly lit inside. The sight she was met with had her actually pouting at the cuteness - and yes its a cringey word but also the only one appropriate.

Between bedding down and barely an hour later the two had managed to become impossibly tighter pressed to each other. Y/n’s face was pressed into the crook of Tom’s neck and his arms seemed to have pulled her on-top of him almost completely. Her left leg was hooked under his right, which was then sandwiched by his left too. They both looked so pure and innocent and god did Nelli know they both needed any extra time they could get.

Nelli cared a lot about Tom, she’d been working with him from the beginning, from the child star days to now. She cared about him like her very annoying surrogate son and she wanted to see him looked after. She also so completely wanted the two stars to stop pining after each other. Because frankly it was getting a little frustrating for everyone else.

So she chose to tactically forget about her discovery, sneaking a photo on the sly before silently pulling the door closed and leaving them to their sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #fluff

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lunar-wandering · 3 years

Text

i don’t wanna fight alone anymore - Chapter 5

if you pick up on the 5d chess level plot line i hint at in here i platonically love you

Word Count: 2.3k

Read on Ao3

Wukong sighed as he walked into the ship's common area, taking in the sight before him.

"Y'know. I was honestly kind of hoping that what happened yesterday was a dream." He said, "Or, well, I guess it would be a nightmare-"

"Aw, you consider me to be a nightmare?" Macaque said, from his rather uncomfortable looking position of being sprawled on the couch. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't intended as one." Wukong sighed again, looking over at MK and Mei. "And what are you two doing?"

"He kicked us off the couch." MK said, his arms crossed and a pout on his face. Mei wore a matching expression. "We're trying to convince him to give it back."

"Pouting doesn't work on me, kiddo." Macaque said, "I'm not easily swayed, unlike someone I know."

"Oh c'mon." Mei said, moving over and getting closer to the shadow monkey. "We're friends now right?"

"....I don't recall agreeing to that-"

"And friends will let their friends use the couch!" She continued, nudging Macaque's arm. "Please? We'll even let you sit with us."

"Absolutely not." Macaque said, pulling his arm away from her nudging. "I'm quite comfortable where I am, thank you very mu-"

He didn't get to finish that, as Wukong, having had enough, easily climbed behind him, and shoved him off the couch, knocking him to the floor. Macaque yelped, as MK and Mei cheered.

"Hey! I'm still injured you know!" Macaque hissed, fur bristling.

"If you can annoy people, you're healed enough." Wukong said, crossing his arms as he looked down at Macaque. "You need to get ready anyways."

"Ready? Ready for what?" MK asked.

"To go get the next object of course! I gave Sandy the coordinates last night, we're almost there already." Wukong said.

"What're we getting this time? A shovel, to go with the rake?" Mei joked. Wukong paused for a moment, before he gave a little laugh.

"Oh, it's uh, nothing like that, this one is more of a back up than anything-"

"Back up? Back up for what?" MK asked, concern starting to form in his voice.

"You don't need to be concerned about it bud, it's really nothing important, in fact we probably won't even need it! Everything will be fine. Just.... fine." Wukong said, chuckling a little, a very familiar smirk starting to appear on his face.

Or, well, familiar to Macaque at least.

"You're lying." Macaque said, elaborating when MK and Mei looked at him with confusion. "He always makes that face when he lies."

"I do not." Wukong hissed, but despite his denial, he stood up, turning around so that the others couldn't see his expression. "A-anyways, we're wasting time here, so uh, let's go!"

"...Why am I here again?" Macaque asked, sulking a little as he walked with Wukong, MK, and Mei through the entryway of the temple.

"You, are here so I can keep an eye on you." Wukong explained, "If you think I'm trusting you anytime soon, you'd be dead wrong."

"...Point taken." Macaque said, as they turned the corner into a room that practically glowed with various objects. Some of them were on pedestals, some just laying on the ground. More hallways connected to the room, each of them with even more hallways and doors.

"How're we going to find the object you're searching for with all of...this?" Mei asked.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll know it when we see it." Wukong said, "I'm sure it's somewhere in this temple."

"And how can you be so sure? Where are your sources Wukong, go on, pull out your list of references, I'll wait." Macaque said, crossing his arms and smirking as Wukong sputtered. MK tuned them out, instead focusing in on some of the various treasures the room held.

Over on a nearby pedestal, a small mirror stood, innocently gleaming alongside the rest of the treasure. Curiosity started to take it's hold, and MK reached out-

"Woah there kid-" Macaque said, grabbing hold of MK's wrist, stopping him just before he could reach the mirror. "Hold on there, this place is full of mystic treasures, remember? You don't want to go about activating some magic trap or something, we can't risk that kind of thing, right Wuk- ........you've got to be kidding me."

MK turned, following where Macaque's gaze was-

To see Wukong, standing on the other side of the room, sheepishly holding a golden cup.

"....Uh, Macaque's right, shockingly enough." Wukong said, nervously chuckling as he set the cup back down on the pedestal he'd taken it from. "We wouldn't want to risk it."

"Don't- don't just put it back like you didn't do anything." Macaque said, letting go of MK's wrist to march over to Wukong, glaring at him. "We all saw you pick it up-"

Mei started to record.

"What, I didn't do anything..... I'm better at controlling my impulses than that." Wukong said, a nervous smirk starting to form on his face. Upon seeing it, Macaque reached over and pinched the other monkey's cheek.

"You're making that stupid face again." He said as Wukong yelped, smacking away Macaque's hand. "Seriously though, be glad nothing happened, I would've killed you if you'd activated something-"

Almost as if on cue, there was a faint click, and a magic circle appeared on the ground, a barrier rising up and trapping the two monkeys within the circle.

There was a moment of silence.

"....Yep, I'm going to kill you-" Macaque said, tackling Wukong to the floor. Mei cheered, excited for a fight, but MK quickly stepped in.

"Woah, woah, hold on-" MK said, and both monkey's paused mid-fight. "Are you two okay?"

"....Wukong don't you dare say it-"

"We're just peachy kid!" As soon as those words left Wukong's mouth, Macaque went back to attacking him with extreme fervor. In response, Wukong leaned back, planting his feet into Macaque's chest and shoving him away. Macaque's back slammed against the barrier, and he growled, moving to attack Wukong again-

Only to pause as Wukong pulled out a piece of chalk, humming quietly as he drew a line on the ground.

"....What are you doing." Macaque asked, all the fight leaving him as confusion took over. Wukong hummed in satisfaction as he finished drawing the line.

"We can't just fight the whole time we're in here, that'd be counter-productive." He said, tucking the chalk back into his pocket. "So, you stay on your side, I'll stay on my side."

"That has to be the most childish solution I've ever heard-" Macaque started, only to be cut off as Mei cleared her throat.

"Not that this isn't very entertaining, but like, how exactly are we supposed to get you out?" She asked. Wukong and Macaque paused.

"Uh. I'm not entirely sure-" Wukong started.

"I found a switch over here." MK said, drawing their attention to where he stood by the wall. "D'you think pressing it would let you out?"

"No." Macaque said, a surprising amount of certainty in his voice. "There's another switch, probably in some kind of control room or something like that. You have to flip it before you can flip this one."

There was a moment of silence as everyone stared at him.

"....What? I traveled a lot, I've seen a lot of traps." Macaque huffed, putting his back against the barrier and sliding down to sit on the floor. "I know what I'm doing."

"...Well it's not like we have any better options." Mei said, shrugging as she grabbed hold of MK's arm, turning down a random hallway. "We'll be back!"

Wukong sighed as he watched the two of them walk further into the temple, before turning and glaring at Macaque.

"You better not have just sent them off on a wild goose chase." He said, mirroring Macaque's pose by sitting down on the ground.

"Please, do I look like I want to stay in this circle forever?"

"Why is this temple so hard to navigate!" MK yelled in frustration, as he gripped onto the stone wall. He and Mei were slowly climbing down, hoping to find some kind of control room deeper in the temple.

"Probably to deter thieves." Mei said. She wasn't struggling nearly as much with this as MK was. The perils of loosing super strength.... "Either that or to make the adventure more fun for, y'know, adventurers."

"Couldn't they have set it up so you could choose a difficulty setting?" MK mumbled, "This would be so much easier if we could do this on easy mode-"

MK missed the next grip point, his foot sliding. He startled at the sudden lack of support, scrambling a bit in his panic, which turned out to be a mistake, as he ended up slipping and letting go of the wall entirely, tumbling back.

"MK!" Mei yelled, reaching out a hand to grab at him, barely missing by a few inches.

MK tensed, bracing himself to slam against the stone floor of the temple-

Only to feel himself get caught in someone's arms.

"Red Son?!" Mei yelled, incredulous, and MK opened his eyes to see that she was right, Red Son had caught him. "What are you doing here?!"

"I'm getting something for W- ah, my parents." Red Son said as he set MK down on the ground. "Yep, I'm picking up some random mystic artifact for my parents."

"....Do your parents actually know you're here?" MK asked.

"Of course they do! Why wouldn't they?" Red Son said-

And then proceeded to rush forwards to catch Mei just before she could hit the ground.

"Ha! That was fun!" She said, laughing as she jumped out of Red Son's arms.

"Why would you do that?!" Red Son hissed.

"I knew you would catch me."

"A bit of warning might have been nice!"

"So you admit you would catch me?" Mei asked, laughing as Red Son paused, before he huffed, crossing his arms and looking away, his necklace jangling as he moved.

"....What's with the necklace?" MK asked, and Red Son froze, before quickly hiding the necklace behind his shirt.

"It's nothing." He mumbled, before grabbing hold of Mei and MK's hands, and starting to walk. "C'mon, you're looking for the switches to undo the magic barrier right?"

"How'd you-"

"Just a.... lucky guess." Red Son said, dragging them down a long series of hallways. As they passed a darkened hall, MK paused, staring intently. "Hurry it up MK, you don't have all day."

"Sorry I just....thought I saw something." MK said, slowly turning away. He could've sworn that he had seen- no, that wasn't possible. "...Wait, did you just call me MK?"

"I think he did." Mei said, smirking. Red Son didn't even look at them, but his hair started sparking at the edges.

".....No, I didn't." He said, "You two must be hearing things. Now hurry it up, we're running out of time."

"What is wrong with you?" Macaque asked, sitting on his side of the circle.

"Excuse me?" Wukong said, glancing over at Macaque in confusion. Macaque sighed, before standing up, and crossing over the chalk line, despite Wukong's protests.

"Normally, you could get us out of here easily. So, I'll ask you again." Macaque said, leaning over, nose almost brushing against Wukong's. "What is wrong with you?"

"I- uh, well, what's wrong with you?" Wukong countered, "Why don't you use your shadows to break the barrier?"

"You seriously think that she left me unscathed?" Macaque hissed, before quickly backtracking. "Or, well, I mean, not unscathed, but like-"

"So it was her." Wukong whispered, "She's the one who hurt you."

"....Don't think about it too much." Macaque said, walking back over to his side of the circle, sitting down and pulling his knees to his chest. "It's....not important."

"Macaque-"

"We're back!" MK's voice interrupted, and both Wukong and Macaque visibly startled at his sudden presence. "We flipped the switch, all we need to do now is just flip this one!"

"Oh thank goodness." Macaque said, making a show out of standing up and stretching. "Any longer in here and I think Wukong would've driven me insane."

"Hey-" Wukong started to protest, but then stopped as he registered who was with Mei and MK. "Uh. Who do you have there?"

"Ah, Red Son just. Kind of showed up." MK explained as he walked over to the switch on the wall. "Said he was getting something for his parents."

Wukong leveled Red Son with a look of suspicion, and Red Son looked away, nervously rubbing his arm. MK flipped the switch on the wall, the barrier falling down. Both Macaque and Wukong let out an audible sigh of relief as the magic faded away-

Only for the ground to shake.

"Well, looks like time is up." Red Son said, oddly calm, as he walked by them, turning to head deeper into the temple. "I'll see you guys later."

As he passed by Wukong, he paused for a moment, leaning over and whispering something Mei and MK couldn't hear. Macaque's ear twitched, and a look of horror briefly flashed over Wukong's face, but it was gone as fast as it had been there as the floor shook again, this time knocking some rocks loose, the sound of them tumbling making Wukong wince. He rushed forwards, picking up Macaque (despite the protest that he could "run on his own") as he started towards the exit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mei do the same with MK, before hurriedly catching up to him.

"Wait- what about Red Son?" MK said, watching as the aforementioned demon continued to walk back further into the temple, with a walk that was far too calm for someone who was in a collapsing building.

"He'll be fine, I'm sure he's got a plan." Wukong said, skidding to a stop once he reached the outside, setting Macaque down and turning to watch as the temple collapsed completely, sealing the entrance. Mei softly set MK down on the ground beside her.

"...We didn't end up getting that thing you wanted." Mei said, staring at the collapsed temple. Wukong sighed.

"It's fine. Like I said, it was more of a..... back up plan anyways." He said, turning to head back to the ship. "We shouldn't need it anytime soon."

#Monkie Kid #fanfic #my writing #season 3 fanfic

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lynyrdwrites · 3 years

Text

gold rush

Y’all know me so well with these Taylor Swift requests. This song is perfect for some jealous!Nesta, so have a bit of post-ACOSF fluff.

Requested by @gods-grxve

---

I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch

She sometimes think that the bond between them, that golden rope that binds her to him as surely as the love she feels every time she lays eyes on him, is as delicate and breakable as it looks. If she closes her eyes, she can feel it, could even swear she sees it, but is terrified that someday she might wake up and find it gone.

It doesn’t help that she sometimes think the denizens of the Nightmare Court ignore it on purpose.

Mor tells her that they just want to get a rise out of her, but truth be told, there are very few people whose opinions actually matter to Nesta. Mor’s is not one of them, so her words usually fall on deaf ears.

When she sees women look at Cassian with those hungry eyes, she has to force the embers that remain of her powers to stay dormant. She promised them to the cauldron, but in those moments she swears that nothing was taken; that those embers could become a conflagration in an instant if she let them.

“You’re in a foul mood,” Gwyn says after one of Nesta’s visits to that terrible court, after she’s put the red head on her ass during a particularly vicious spar. Nesta feels a pang, a worry that she hurt her friend, because sometimes she still has difficulty fighting her own self-destructive habits – the ones created out of a belief that she didn’t deserve anything better. But Gwyn gets to her feet and grins at her. “The next time Merrill is a bitch to me, I get to put you down.”

“It’s a deal,” Nesta replies, before her attention is caught by Cassian, helping one of the newer priestesses do squats properly.

She never feels the jealousy here. Maybe it’s because she trusts the other women – they’re all here to become Valkyries, or at least to defend themselves, after all. Or maybe the Nightmare courts just brings out the worst in her.

As if feeling her gaze on him, Cassian looks back at her and grins and winks.

Or maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s the way he shows his affection for her so openly, while he wears a mask in the other court. They all do, but his is the only that Nesta wants to rip off with claws, to reveal the man who loves her so openly and free. She wants them all to know, that he belongs only to her. That she’s the only one whose broken pieces he’ll help put back together.

She wants her Cassian, and she hates when she can’t have him.

Nesta, she has come to realize, is ai possessive creature.

Later, when they return to the House of the Wind, he finds her in the library. Their collection of books has grown. More smut, supplied by the House, and more books about war supplied by Cassian. She’s gotten a few romances about soldiers in there as well, and has begun to lure Cassian into enjoying them, by reading them to him.

The more interesting scenes she’s even let him act out on her. Not that the roleplay ever lasts long. They’re not very good at pretending to be anyone but themselves when they’re together; another reason to hate the necessity of masks and lies for the liars and courtiers of the Nightmare Court.

“You’ve been stewing all day,” he says, leaning over the back of her chaise, so he can press his lips to her neck, and mark the page of her book so he can set it aside. “Hit me with it.”

“I don’t want to,” she grumbles, and she knows she sounds petulant. But that’s because she is. And he loves her, petulance and hard edges and all. It’s a gift, and because it is, she melts back against him, so he can kiss down her bare skin, to where her dress covers her shoulder. “It’s… foolish.”

“I don’t like it either,” he says against her skin. “I hate it. You danced with Keir last time. He wanted you. I could see it.”

“He just hates you, so he’ll tolerate my presence,” Nesta replies, burying her fingers in his hair and tugging his head up so she can press her lips to his in the softest of caresses. “I hate him, and he knows it. But he also knows neither of us can murder him, so he plays the games.”

It’s an intense relief, to not have to actually explain her mood, but she can’t say that she’s surprised that he knew the cause. He always knows.

He knows her, like no one else does.

And it’s because of that, and that alone, that she brushes his hair out of his eyes and presses her forehead against his.

“I hate how they look at you. Like they have any sort of claim to you. Like they could have you, and it would be their right. Every time we go there, I want to destroy that whole court; tear it apart, because of how they look at you.”

“Ah, my vicious Valkyrie,” he says, swooping her up in his arms. She’s wraps her arms around his neck and leans into him. “Do you know how much I enjoy your jealousy?”

“Why don’t you show me? And I can show you how much I enjoy yours.”

He carries her off to their room, both of them laughing, neither of them even noticing that the house opens and the closes the doors as they go.

Send me a ship + a song

#Nessian #Nessian fic #acosf spoilers

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voiceless-terror · 4 years

Note

all those sleep prompts are so killer and such big jon vibes!!! i would love to read anything on "- a character who refuses to share a sleeping space with anyone else, and it’s because he doesn’t want to disturb others/doesn’t want pity/is ashamed of his nightmares" with jon. bonus points if tim is involved and extra bonus points if tim also has experience with insomnia/nightmares, either himself or used to taking care of someone in his life with those issues...

Hey there! Here I am, finally writing the promised Jon/Tim that I should have written ages ago. Feels good to be on this train! I’ve placed this in pre-canon, when Jon and Tim are researchers and have just started dating. Hope you like!

“That was...really nice, Tim. Thank you.”

“Thank you? Jon, we split the check,” Tim throws an arm around his shoulder and it’s heavy and warm in all the right ways. “You know my policy on that. The person who asks you out pays the bill! Ergo, me.”

“I know, I know,” Jon relents under the pressure and burrows into Tim’s side. The wine’s gone to his head, he’s sure of it. Shouldn’t have had those three glasses. But the waiter was so attentive and Tim’s smile was infectious so he couldn’t help but say yes, of course, thank you, to every pour. “I just...I really enjoyed myself, is all.”

“I did too,” Tim’s voice goes to that soft, fond register he’s only just started using with Jon. Before it had been all gregarious charm, winks and nudges that he used interchangeably with friends and acquaintances alike. When Tim first asked him out, Jon thought he was joking; he rolled his eyes and went back to work, ignoring Tim’s look of hurt. Jon was used to practical jokes of this nature- he’s not exactly an attractive prospective partner, and several people have implied he was more trouble than he was worth. But a week later, on their usual coffee run, Tim offered to buy him dinner, his voice serious and shy and utterly unlike him. The look in his eyes was genuine and Jon had to say yes; who could refuse him, in the face of such sincerity?

It’s been a month and they’ve fallen into a sort of routine. Every week is a new spot- Tim’s a bit of a foodie, and he overheard him making a list of places with Sasha. It took up an entire page in his notebook, and Jon wonders if Tim will get sick of him before they finish it.

He stumbles on the sidewalk and Tim catches him with a steady hand on his waist. The cold air should be bracing but it is not; his dizziness increases two times over and it’s a long journey home. Tim knows this, which must lead to his next suggestion.

“You can spend the night at mine,” he says, voice purposefully light. Jon freezes. They hadn’t broached the topic yet, but he thinks Tim has some sort of idea. Rumors abound in research, after all. Tim must notice his nervousness because he stops walking, turning to face Jon with that same unbearable sincerity.

“Nothing untoward, I promise,” Tim says, and Jon believes him. Tim hasn’t lied to him yet. “I just don’t feel comfortable putting you on the tube, and you’re a long way from home while I’m right around the corner.” Jon still doesn’t respond, so Tim continues. “No pressure, honestly. I could call you a cab, it’s not a big deal-”

“No, that’s-that’s too expensive.” Living in London is hard enough, especially on a researcher’s salary. But to spend the night at Tim’s, as innocent as it may be, fills him with dread. There’s a reason he lives alone. There’s a reason it took him almost a year before he stayed the night at Georgie’s.

Sleep has never been kind to him.

Jon has nightmares. Terrible, horrifying visions of make-believe that leave him screaming and crying and choking on his breath. Georgie had been about ready to call an ambulance the first time she witnessed it, but Jon was able to talk her down.

“These happen every night?” she’d asked, her face a mix of pity and concern.

“Not every night,” he insisted. It was true. If he stayed up late, working himself to exhaustion, he could usually manage a dreamless sleep of at least five hours. But that came with its own difficulties; crankiness, irritability. It put a strain on most of his relationships.

Tim, though- Tim is kind and understanding. Beneath the mask of sociability and flirtation lies a serious, determined person. Compassionate, loving, but in a quiet way and with small gestures. He makes lists. He puts in time. He asks Jon what he wants when they go out to eat and he doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes when Jon carries on for too long.

“We can go to your place,” he whispers. “I-I think I’d like that.” Tim smiles and hooks an arm through his and Jon knows he’s made the right decision. Maybe tonight will be different. Maybe the wine will dull the terror that rules most of his life. The night is dark and Jon’s flat is cold and lonely.

Tim’s flat, on the other hand, is warm and cozy. It’s neat and organized, but cluttered enough to give it personality and charm. There’s a couch calling his name and he answers it, practically collapsing in the cushions as Tim lets out a little laugh.

“No going to sleep yet,” he instructs and Jon can’t help but let out a groan. The warmth and safety of the spot and the closeness of Tim has suddenly made him comfortably tired, and he’d like to slip off to sleep in this pleasant haze. “Not until you’ve had some food and water. I’ve even got those crusty little granola bars you like so much.”

“They’re not crusty,” he grumbles, his voice stifled by a pillow. But he’s not in a fighting mood and his mind’s currently swimming with the fact that Tim stocked his favorite snack.

“Very crusty, indeed,” Tim’s nudging him up into a sitting position and forcing water into his hands. “Drink up!”

“You’re very irritating, I hope you know,” Jon says as he leans his head onto Tim’s shoulder. Tim makes for a comfortable pillow.

“Aw, you love it.”

Maybe he does.

By the time he’s choked down the last of the bar, his eyes are fluttering and he can’t keep in his yawns. Tim puts a warm hand on his arm and it burns pleasantly as he pulls him up. “Time for bed, I think.”

The words startle Jon out of his haze and he blinks his eyes open, focusing on Tim’s gentle smile. “Er, I think-” he doesn’t want to disappoint the man, but he would rather be as cautious as possible. “I think it would be best if I slept out here.”

“On the couch?” Tim asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Oh- would you rather sleep alone?” Tim doesn’t seem too miffed about it, just confused, so Jon answers as honestly as he can.

“Yes.” He doesn’t want to, not really. But he needs to.

“Alright,” Tim agrees easily enough. “But you should take the bed, then. The sofa’s comfy but I know you have a bad back-”

“It’s fine for one night,” Jon responds. Forcing Tim to sleep on the sofa in his own flat seems terribly selfish.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am,” Jon assures, trying to convey his affection in a gentle smile. Tim returns it.

“I’ll just get you some sheets, then. Change of clothes, too.”

By the time Jon’s head hits the pillow, comfortably attired in Tim’s old joggers and t-shirt, he’s already half asleep. He thinks Tim’s already left the room but then he feels the warm pressure of a kiss to his forehead.

Perhaps he dreamed that, though.

__________

There’s a thread and it’s pulling Jon forward.

It’s not comfortable. Jon would rather stay here, in the library, surrounded by books and dim lights and knowledge he has control over. But there are whispers in the hallway, and someone’s telling him to go, go, go.

And go he does. Down stairs, so many stairs, more stairs than the institute ought to have. There is something watching and something pulling; Jon is being split in two and somehow this is worse than actually seeing the spiders and the eyes that have haunted him all these years. This, he feels in his soul. Something is at stake.

There’s a door. This is how it always ends, you see- with a door. And Jon’s fist, small and childish and grubby, raises to knock against the wood. It echoes too many times as Jon tries to step back, get off this porch and out of this nightmare but it is too late, the deed is done and the door is opening and a single, spindly black leg creeps out of the door hello, Mr. Spider-

“Jon!”

There are limbs holding him but it’s not the many-legged creature of his nightmares- they’re familiar and strong even as he thrashes against them but someone is screaming and the sound is haunting and painful-

And it’s him. Jon wrenches his eyes open to find himself safe and sound, held in place by Tim’s arms. His heart continues to stutter and he wheezes- Tim’s got a hand on his back and a soothing murmur going.

“You’ve got to breathe, Jon. Slow.” Tim takes his shaking hand and puts it to his own chest. “Like this. In and out. There you go. Nice and slow.” The words are calm and practiced; Tim’s done this before, with someone else. As his heartbeat resumes a normal rhythm, he wonders who.

There’s a hand on Jon’s face, gently wiping away tears he wasn’t aware he shed. Tim’s eyes are far-away, sort of, like he’s just going through the motions, slow and loving. “There we are,” he says as he finally meets Jon’s eyes. “Better now?”

“Y-Yes,” he croaks back. His hand is still gripping at Tim’s shirt but he doesn’t let go until the reality of the situation sets in. “Oh God- I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you-”

“Is that why you slept out here?” Tim asks, his voice patient. “Does this happen a lot?”

“M-More than I care to admit.” Jon feels a sudden need to explain himself, to let Tim know he tries to keep it under control as best he can. “I’ve tried everything- tea, therapy, p-pills- it doesn’t work.” A note of frustration creeps into his voice. “Something doesn’t want me to sleep, I guess.”

“Just thought you were a workaholic, to be honest,” Tim pulls him into his side and Jon melts, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Should’ve known better. We work at the Magnus Institute, after all.” The laugh that comes from both of them is bitter. “D’you want to sleep in my bed, maybe? Just- just for company. I’ve been told that helps.”

“I-I don’t want to wake you.” The argument is weak and the both of them know it.

“You already have, love.” The endearment slips out unnoticed by Tim, but Jon hears it. “You’ll wake me either way, but I’d rather you didn’t wake up alone.”

“O-Oh.” There’s a lot of care in those words. Jon doesn’t know what to do with it, except agree. “Yes, I’ll- if, if you don’t mind-”

“Wouldn’t offer if I did.” He wouldn’t, Jon knows. Tim always means what he says when it comes to him.

So they curl up in his bed, an arm slung across Jon’s waist, his back to Tim’s chest. There are no spiders here, not in this bed that smells of dryer sheets and detergent and Tim. He’s almost asleep when the arm around his waist tightens suddenly.

“My brother always said the pressure helped. When he had bad dreams.” Jon opens his eyes.

Tim never mentioned a brother; it never came up in any of their conversations. Tim knows Jon is an only child, that he was brought up by his grandmother and had a lonely childhood. He didn’t realize, in all of their time together, that he knew so little of Tim’s own background, besides his publishing career.

Nobody liked to talk about what brought them to the Magnus Institute. It was like some unspoken rule, some shared trauma that somehow kept them all silent and apart.

“Your brother?” he whispers, turning over to see Tim’s face. Its dark, but he thinks he can see a brightness in Tim’s eyes like unshed tears.

“Danny.” Tim says the name like he’s asking for forgiveness that Jon can’t give. He sees a tear drip down the man’s face and he reaches for it, just like Tim did before. “He was...he was my little brother. And he was so, so good.” Tim’s voice breaks and something in Jon breaks too. “And something took him from me.” His expression is hard but his hand reaches out to lovingly trace Jon’s face, as if trying to memorize its shape.

“I’m sorry,” Jon knows his apology is not enough, that it will never fill the gap in Tim’s heart. Instead, he finds words spilling from his lips, as if sharing his own pain will help too. “I-I saw someone get taken, once. I didn’t- I didn’t love them, but- but it was because of me.” Tim’s hand is in his hair, tucking a curl behind his ear as his voice wobbles. “It should’ve been me.”

Tim draws him close and squeezes; Jon buries his face in the crook of his neck and inhales. “I’m glad it wasn’t you, Jon,” Tim whispers as he runs a hand down his back. “I’m glad it wasn’t you.” Jon isn’t Danny and Tim isn’t offering him absolution but it’s fine, for tonight.

Jon doesn’t dream.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27494077

#prompts #karliahs #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #jontim #precanon #hurt/comfort #angst

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jessicajonesrp · 4 years

Text

Public warning

Patricia Walker does not do well with lack of control. It’s a tendency passed down from life with Dorothy Walker, easily the most controlling non super-powered person she had ever met. For the first eighteen years of her life, most of Trish’s actions, from her clothes to her work to her every public word and expression, had been chosen for her by Dorothy, and the only real choice she had for herself was whether to give in and make life easier for herself or rebel and suffer Dorothy’s wrath.

Her desire for the control she had lacked had left her with severe insecurity, eating disorders, and self medication through drugs, all issues she struggled with for a good ten years before channeling her need for control into efforts at bettering herself and helping others. She had finally reached a place where life was stable, heading in a direction Trish could be content with, if not fully satisfied.

And then Kilgrave happened. First to Jessica only, without Trish having any idea why her best friend had suddenly vanished without contact for eight months, and then with the shattered mess it left her once Trish did know and struggled to support her. Then to Trish herself, when she, against Jessica’s orders and even pleas, involved herself in trying to draw him out and capture him.

Trish knew she had not suffered anywhere near the level that her sister had from Kilgrave, but it was still enough to make her feel sick and cold when she remembered. She still occasionally had nightmares of his cold, snapping voice, telling her to shoot herself in the head, telling her to kill people she had never met before out on the docks. She still shivered in disgust when she remembered the feeling of his hands on her face, his lips on her skin, the terrible ambivalence of wanting to kiss him, enjoying it, even as every part of her true self screamed out in horror. And she could never forget Simpson’s hands around her throat, choking her nearly to the point of death at Kilgrave’s command.

She had hated and feared the man from the first moment Jessica managed to stutter out what he had done to her. No, she had hated him before then, when she first saw the unnaturally shocked, broken state of her sister when she finally broke free from his initial control. Anyone who could hurt Jessica so deeply and so permanently earned her hatred without needing to know their identity.

And now he was back. Again. As much as Trish feared for herself, for being used or even killed in his obsessive pursuit of Jessica, she feared even more that Kilgrave would damage Jessica even more deeply, that he would continue to pile up dead and damaged bodies around himself and place the blame at her feet. Jessica didn’t need this, not again. And if Trish could do anything to help or stop it, it would help her feel just a little bit more of a sense of the control she knew she didn’t really have.

She made her way to her recording studio after first sending some of Heroes for Hires guards ahead of her to thoroughly check out the studio for any signs of danger from Kilgrave or any of his like, giving them a code phrase to use to insure that they would be able to alert her if he did show up and control them or others. Trish had already called ahead to insure that all people were thoroughly searched for any possible weapons and passed at least twice through the metal detectors already installed before being allowed entrance. After receiving the all clear, she went, Jessica insisting on accompanying her, via one of Danny’s cars to the studio, passing through the checks put in place and heading straight to her recording studio and instructing the techs to set up for a live broadcast. She was aware of Jessica skulking behind her, hands shoved in her pockets, as Trish rapidly read from the speech she had just finished churning out.

“Good afternoon New York City and beyond, this is Trish Walker with an urgent report coming to you from Trish Talk, by way of myself and all our associates at Heroes for Hire. Soon, a follow up broadcast will be coming your way via Channel 5 News with more information, but please, listen very carefully to this announcement for your safety and those of your loved ones.”

Trish paused, swallowing, and snuck a glance back at Jessica’s impassive expression before facing the mic again and continuing. “Most of you may remember the terrible events of last summer, when the man whom called himself Kilgrave provided mass terror and destruction in our city and in far too many of our own lives and homes. It is to my great sorrow that I inform you that Kilgrave is not, as was believed, deceased. Kilgrave has made personal contact with myself and with-“

Jessica made violent throat slashing motions behind her that Trish saw out the corner of her eye, and Trish edited her intended words smoothly.

“With myself and my colleagues, and we have evidence to support that this is no hoax. Please be aware of yourself and those you love at all times. Know their whereabouts, establish coded phrases and patterns of behavior in order to test out the level of control the people in your life may have at any given moment. Kilgrave is a white male with a British accent, last known to have short medium brown hair and brown eyes. He tends to dress in a professional manner, especially in dark purple suits and ties, and he is considered a threat of the level of nuclear war. Do not approach him should you see him; instead do all you can to get away and call in our hotline at Trish Talk or Heroes for Hire to report a possible sighting. If you suspect that someone you know may be controlled, treat them in the same manner, do all you can to subdue them without causing permanent harm to them if necessary. Kilgrave’s powers last up to 12 hours, so do not under any circumstances try to reason with anyone you suspect to be controlled. If at all possible, wear ear plugs or head phones or listen to loud music when necessary to go out in public. Kilgrave cannot gain control of those whom are not within his direct path and whom cannot hear his commands. He-“

“Stop,” a voice suddenly came over the ear, and both Trish and Jessica jumped, recognizing the voice after a moment as not Kilgrave’s, but female and American. Trish quickly identified the voice a second later as belonging to one of her tech support assistants, Chloe Ash. “The information is over.”

“What the fuck?” Jessica hissed, shooting Chloe a vicious glower and striding towards her quickly. “Will you shut up, even I know to shut the hell up on a live recording, over something this damn important!”

Trish tried to recover, giving a somewhat forced chuckle and speaking over them. “I apologize, there are some technical difficulties, but if you’ll bear with me I will make sure you all get the information you need. As I was saying, Kilgrave cannot-"

“This information is too much, this recording is over,” Chloe repeated, more loudly and forcefully, standing up and taking the headphones off of her ears. She fairly shouted out her next few words, speaking loudly enough that Trish’s words were drowned out.

“Loyal listeners, you will now hear the sound of a suicide by Chloe Ash, Patsy Walker’s employee. More are to follow in the names and as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones. Goodbye, loyal listeners, and know that Kilgrave is a patient man.”

She head butted Jessica in the face when Jessica grabbed for her arm, ducking under her and weaving to the other side of Trish. As Trish leaped up, expecting Chloe to grab or try to harm her, the young woman instead ran to a small cabinet against the walls containing little more than sound equipment and various office supplies. Throwing it open, she grabbed a pair of scissors from its contents, opened the blades wide, and closed them around the front of her throat.

She made no sound, showed no pain as she dragged the scissor blades more deeply into her skin, sawing back and forth to make as rough and deep a wound as possible. The live recording now picked up the sound of Trish’s horrified scream, her outcries of “Oh god, no, no!” as blood spattered in a wide arc just short of reaching her, and the noisy scuttle of multiple feet moving towards Chloe as others tried to reach her before it was too late.

Jessica got to her first and wrenched the scissors out of her hand, breaking them in half and throwing them down so Chloe could not get them and use them any further. Tearing off her oversized sweatshirt, she pressed it against the woman’s throat, grimly noting how the blood immediately stained through its thick material and onto her fingers, how it had sprayed hot and thick over her arms and chest before she could touch her at all. The woman didn’t try to speak, likely couldn’t have, but she was losing all color in her face, her eyes already growing glassy and lifeless, and as Trish sputtered and tried not to vomit or pass out in the background, Jessica held onto the almost useless bloodied sweater, as though she could somehow keep the woman alive just by holding on tight enough.

It didn’t matter. Within another minute the woman was clearly dead, limp and unmoving under Jessica’s hands, and she could hear the shrill noise of sirens in the background. Jessica let her drop to the ground, stumbling back and nearly yelling out loud when she bumped into Trish and felt her hands latch onto her arm.

“We have to go, now,” she mumbled, giving her sister’s arm a rough tug.” Before someone else of his comes through in the aftermath.”

Even as she lead Trish out of the room and building, she could still hear the dying woman’s words echo in her mind. More are to follow, as a direct result of the avoidance and rejection of Jessica Jones…

#jessica jones roleplay #Jessica Jones #Luke Cage #luke cage roleplay #trish walker roleplay #trish walker

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wondernimbus · 4 years

Text

quidditch world cup — seamus finnigan

pairing: seamus finnigan x female!reader

request: Would you write a Seamus Finnigan imagine during the Quidditch World Cup where his crush sits near them during the game and has a tent near the Finnigans (and Dean) and when the Death Eaters attack and he and his crush hide from the Death Eaters together?

a/n: i changed a few minor details about the original request but other than that, enjoy!

A palpable buzz of excitement still hangs in the air after the match has officially ended. Some of those rooting for Bulgaria trudge out of the stands looking glum, but most, although the team they had been rooting for lost, are just as excited as the Irish—or perhaps not as excited, but close to it. On her way back to the tents, [Y/N] spots no less than five fans of Ireland weeping tears of joy.

"You'd think they won a thousand galleons with how they were acting," [Y/N] points out with a laugh after coming across an Irish fan pounding his fists on the ground and bawling loudly.

Beside her, Dean Thomas snickers. "I bet a thousand galleons Seamus is somewhere going bonkers—oh, there he is."

[Y/N], with much difficulty, tears her gaze away from the bawling man and looks up. Sure enough, Seamus Finnigan is standing a couple feet away from them in front of his tent, wildly brandishing a pole on which hangs the flag of Ireland.

She can't help but laugh at the sight. "How long do you think before he starts crying?"

Dean nudges her. "I assume you'll be wiping his tears away when he does?"

"Oh, shut up."

Seamus catches sight of them when they draw closer. He stops waving his flag around and grins at the pair, looking the happiest [Y/N] has ever seen him. "We won, lads!" he yells, bounding towards them.

"Lads?" [Y/N] wrinkles her nose, fighting back a laugh. Seamus looks like a five-year-old on Christmas day who just got the toy broomstick he wanted.

"Don't mind his vocabulary, [Y/N]. He's half out of his mind," Dean says in a mock sympathetic voice, clasping Seamus's shoulder with one hand. "You good, mate? Sure you don't need to sit down?"

"Never been better!" Seamus answers breathlessly, eyes wide with mirth as he bounces slightly on his toes. "Never had any doubt Ireland would win—poor Bulgaria never had a chance!"

"Don't start crying on us now, Seamus," Dean sniggers. "Or at least if you do, do it on [Y/N]—"

"Seamus!" [Y/N] exclaims, cutting Dean off with a sideways glare. "The painting on your, um, cheek—it's gone a little messy. Would you like me to fix it for you?"

It's not a lie. The large four-leaf clover painted on Seamus's right cheek has gone smudged and looks more like a big blob of green than what it's actually supposed to be. He absentmindedly drags his hand across his cheek, making it even worse.

Dean snorts. "Oh, now you're just doing it on purpose—"

"Can't say no to that, [Y/N]!" grins Seamus. "Gotta show my Ireland pride. I've got a brush or two in my tent. Come on, you two!"

Dean gives [Y/N] a look. She smacks him on the shoulder and rolls her eyes. "What?" she whispers as they follow Seamus into his tent.

"You seem an awful lot like you're up to something," Dean grins, not bothering to lower his tone.

"Who's up to something?" Seamus asks, rummaging in his bag presumably in search for a paintbrush.

"No one," [Y/N] assures him, glowering at Dean. And then, in a hushed voice, "I am not up to something—I'm his friend, I'm just being nice."

Dean raises his eyebrows at her, obviously not convinced. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she turns to Seamus, who has successfully located a small paintbrush and bottles of green and white paint. "Here you go, [Y/N]—Dean, where are you going?"

[Y/N] looks back at Dean only to see that he's halfway out of the tent flaps, back hunched as though he'd been tip-toeing. He straightens up, trying very hard to mask the devious grin on his face, and shrugs. "I just remembered I had to, uh, meet with Lee," [Y/N] gapes at him in disbelief. "I'll see you two later!"

And then, with no more than a final annoying smirk at [Y/N], Dean leaves the pair of them alone in the tent. [Y/N] lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter, shaking her head as her gaze skitters back to Seamus, who looks just as perplexed as she does.

"Do you—um—" for some reason, some of the glee in Seamus's eyes dies out and is replaced by a touch of awkwardness; [Y/N] can see it in how his gaze darts away from hers. "Do you still wanna—" he gestures to the paintbrush and paint he holds in his hands.

[Y/N] has never hated Dean in her life more than she does now. "Of course," she sniffs, letting out a laugh in an attempt to ease the sudden burst of awkwardness now hanging between them.

Seamus hands her the paintbrush and paint, scratching the back of his head. "You don't have to do it really well, it's alright—I'm washing it off before I sleep anyway—"

[Y/N] lets out a genuine snort of laughter. "Are you sure?" she asks, eyebrows raised. "You seem like the type to show Irish pride wherever and whenever, even when you're asleep."

Seamus ducks his head in shame. "You've got that one right," he grins toothily. "Those blokes were amazing up there, don't you think? Never had any doubt they were gonna win—and Troy was bloody spectacular, did you see his goals?"

"They were hard to miss," [Y/N] agrees, amused as she pries the paintbrush and paint off of Seamus's hands and beckons for him to sit down on the couch, which he does, still rambling on about Troy—Ireland's best Chaser.

"Knew right off the bat he was gonna end up scoring the first goal—he's been training the longest out of all of them, see, he got signed right after he left Hogwarts and he's been under the Irish National Quidditch Team's wing for a decade!"

[Y/N] nods along, a smile playing on her lips as she dips the brush into green paint.

"And that was a bit of a daft move by Krum, don't you think, catching the snitch when Ireland was more than a hundred and fifty points up? Kinda' feel bad for the bloke, I bet his teammates are having a go at him right n—"

Seamus stops talking when she leans in close and places a hand on his cheek.

He swallows.

"Why'd you stop?" [Y/N] asks, pulling back momentarily and laughing.

Seamus swallows again, blinking rapidly. "You just. Uh, caught me by surprise."

She narrows her eyes at him playfully, smiling despite the blush coating her cheeks that she hopes to Merlin Seamus doesn't notice. "I'll be sure to give you a warning next time," she assures him, eyes twinkling. "You good?"

He nods, fidgeting around in his seat as he mumbles something about the Irish team.

[Y/N] leans in for a second time, hovering over him with one hand on his cheek to keep his head steady and the other fixing the painting of the four-leaf clover.

Seamus sits as still as he can, barely even breathing as he glues his eyes to a random spot beyond [Y/N]'s shoulder so he doesn't have to look her in the eye. In a lame attempt at conversation, he asks, trying not to move his lips too much, "Who—who were you rooting for?"

With her tongue darting out of her lips in concentration, she mutters, "Bulgaria."

Seamus's eyes widen almost comically. "You—what—" he blubbers, looking as though he wants to flail around in his seat. "Bulgaria?"

[Y/N] nods, jokingly scowling at him as she drags the brush across his cheek. "What, you don't want my filthy Bulgaria-loving hands on you?"

He opens and closes his mouth, looking at a complete loss for words. All he manages to get out is "Bulgaria?" in the same incredulous tone.

"Yes," [Y/N] laughs, drawing back to look at her creation. She places both hands on her hips as she tilts her head at him, eyes surveying the slightly better-looking four-leaf clover. "I think you're ready to go—unless you want to wash it off, since a Bulgaria fan drew it for you."

Seamus sits there, looking deeply offended at the notion of her supporting his favorite team's opponent. "I," he inhales, "am disappointed."

[Y/N] rolls her eyes, giggling in amusement as she sets down the paint and paintbrush on the table. "Cry me a river, Finnigan. Your team won, anyway—I don't see why you're so upset."

He rises to his feet, massaging his temples as though he's sporting a massive headache. "I'm very disappointed, [Y/N]," he admits, and she can't quite tell whether or not he's being serious. "You have everything—you're nice and you've got good humor and you're downright bloody gorgeous but you support Bulgaria?"

[Y/N] stares at him, the amused grin on her face slowly drooping as she registers his words.

"Bloody.. gorgeous?" she repeats, blinking.

Seamus's body turns rigid. He blinks rapidly, eyes wide like he's been caught in the act. "I didn't—"

Suddenly, a shrill, ear-deafening scream cuts through the air, louder than the celebratory hoots and whistles of the Irish. This one is filled with terror and fear and pain—the stuff of nightmares.

[Y/N] doesn't hesitate; she rushes to the tent entrance, dread blossoming in her stomach with every step she takes.

Everyone has stopped celebrating. The whole field seems to be at a standstill; smiles have fallen, the thrill of the Quidditch match forgotten as everyone stares up at the sky, where four people are being tossed about in mid-air.

"Are those—are those Muggles?" gasps [Y/N], horrified.

Another scream interrupts the deadly silence. And then another. And then another, until everyone starts screaming and running and the sounds of panic build up into a horrifying crescendo. Seamus tugs on [Y/N]'s arm—she hadn't realized she'd been frozen, transfixed at the horrendous sight above her.

"Come on, we gotta go—" Seamus is saying, dragging her by the arm. "[Y/N]!"

[Y/N] snaps herself out of her reverie. The tents are on fire. People are trampling over each other in desperation to flee to the forests. Her brain tells her to start running, so she does, Seamus clutching her hand beside her in a vice-like grip as witches and wizards alike push past them, shoulders ramming into theirs.

"Just keep running, we have to make it to the woods!" Seamus yells above the noise of panic; one of the Muggles in the air have started screaming—a woman—and loud, boisterous laughter ensues.

"Seamus, who are those people?" [Y/N] gasps, eyes catching onto the crowd of masked wizards standing beneath the Muggles. They're standing just several feet away from them, wands drawn as they march closer, huddled together in a pack. "Are those—"

"Don't look, [Y/N]—come on—"

Just before [Y/N] averts her shocked gaze, one of the wizards points his wand in her direction and a jet of green light rushes straight towards her—and it would have hit her right in the back if Seamus hadn't pulled her down at the last second.

Eyes wide with panic and her chest pumping with the adrenaline of nearly having been cursed, [Y/N] scrambles to her feet and lets Seamus drag her into a random nearby tent. "Stay quiet—don't move," he hisses once they've made it behind the tent flaps, crouching just behind the entrance.

"Seamus—were those—"

"Death Eaters, I think," he confirms her suspicions, gritting his teeth. "And they nearly damn cursed you."

[Y/N]'s grip on Seamus's hand tightens as she clamps her mouth shut, willing herself to stay as still and silent as possible. The woman's screaming intensifies and [Y/N]'s heart skips several beats when she hears it get closer and closer to where she and Seamus are hiding.

"Can't we just kill her already? Her screams disgust me almost as much as her blood does."

The voice is coming from right outside the tent. [Y/N]'s breathing gets quicker and she quickly covers her mouth with the hand that's not holding on to Seamus's.

"We are not here to kill—we are here to demonstrate," drawls another voice. "Let everyone see the powerlessness of these filthy, useless Muggles. It disappoints me how we have to resort to such means to prove an obvious point."

Seamus meets [Y/N]'s gaze; she sees her own fear reflected in his eyes. But even then, he gives her a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand in his as he mouths, "It's gonna be okay."

Slowly, she nods.

But then one of the wizards—one of the Death Eaters, her brain supplies not very helpfully—says, "Oi, do you see that?"

"See what?"

"That shadow. There's someone inside the tent—"

"Leave it. We are not here to harm magical blood."

"Shut up—who knows, we might get lucky and find ourselves a Mudblood!" Footsteps draw closer to their tent. Seamus and [Y/N] can do no more but crouch behind the entrance, eyes wide in mutual panic. "Come out, you!"

The tent flaps rustle. A hand pokes out—but then several screams cut through the air, and a sound like a powerful spell being cast echoes across the field.

"It's the Dark Mark!"

Several loud popping noises ensue. [Y/N] knows that sound; it's that of someone—or in this case, several people—apparating away. And then she hears four loud thuds outside, as though heavy bodies are dropping to the ground.

"I think they're gone," Seamus says, but his tone is still hushed.

[Y/N] doesn't pause to check. She unleashes her grasp from Seamus's and darts out of the tent, Seamus yelling behind her, and sure enough, the four Muggles who had been suspended in mid-air just moments before are now lying on the ground, eyes wide in terror except for the two young children who have fainted.

"Oh my God—"

"[Y/N]!" Someone—Seamus—catches her from behind as her knees buckle underneath her and her lungs seize up in her chest.

"Seamus—they—we have to help them—"

"[Y/N], calm down—"

She wrenches herself out of Seamus's hold and rushes to kneel down next to the Muggle woman, whose eyes have gone hazy, staring off into blank space. She doesn't even seem to have noticed [Y/N], who hovers over her, hands trembling, unsure of what to do.

Shaking, she takes the woman's hand in hers and squeezes, repeatedly saying something along the lines of "everything's fine, they're gone now" as Seamus stands back helplessly, wand in his hand as his eyes dart around the seemingly empty field of tents.

"[Y/N], we can't stay out here, they might come b—"

"What about them, Seamus?" [Y/N] cuts him off, gesturing wildly to the Muggles. "What are they going to do if the Death Eaters do come back? We can't just leave them here—"

Another loud, popping noise erupts through the air. All around them, familiar faces have appeared—ministry wizards. Seamus tugs on her arm and pulls her back to her feet, watching as the group of frazzled-looking wizards fuss over the Muggles.

"This is madness!" one of them exclaims, shaking his head in disbelief. Then his eyes meet Seamus and [Y/N]'s, and he immediately advances towards them, wand drawn.

"Calm down, Amos," another wizard says, stopping him in his tracks. "They're just children." And then, turning to the shaken pair, he nods. "Go back to your tents, you two. Everything's been taken care of."

"But—" [Y/N] begins, a thousand questions teetering just behind her lips, but Seamus mutters "let's go" next to her and tugs her along.

—

[Y/N] can't sleep at all that night.

She lies awake in her bed in her tent, the rest of her family already asleep. They'd been incredibly worried when she'd turned up outside of their tent after things had started to calm down. Seamus had insisted on walking her back, but [Y/N] had known that his mother must have been out of her mind with worry as well, so she'd told him it was okay.

Now, she stares up at the ceiling. Her hands haven't quite stopped shaking yet. Traces of the fear she'd felt before remain in her heart like an itch that just won't go away. She can't quite rid herself of it; the pure and utter terror she'd felt when she first saw the family of Muggles being tossed to-and-fro in mid-air.. the panic that tore at her heart when the Death Eater approached the tent she and Seamus had been hiding in..

She remembers being pulled to the ground as a curse hurtled through the air that had been aimed for her. She remembers the screaming. The vacant, unfocused looks on the Muggles' faces when the Death Eaters disappeared.

Suddenly, the tent feels too stuffy. She gets up out of bed and sneaks to the entrance, wanting to rid herself of the suffocating feeling in her chest with a bout of fresh air. She can't get out of there fast enough—she nearly trips over her own feet in desperation, and when she does tear past the tent flaps, she lets out a tiny scream.

"Seamus!"

Clutching her chest in surprise, she takes a step back.

Seamus is standing there, eyes wide like a deer in headlights before he drops his gaze bashfully and scratches the back of his head. "Hey," he says, raising a hand in greeting, but then he seems to remember that they're literally only three feet apart and drops his hand back to his side.

"Hey," [Y/N] says breathlessly. "What are you—what are you doing here?"

Seamus shoves one hand into his pocket, shifting a little on his feet. Quietly, he tells her, "I wanted to check if you were okay."

[Y/N] stares at him for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to react. The "I'm okay" rests on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't have the energy to lie, so she just shakes her head and hopes to leave it at that.

Slowly—hesitantly, Seamus moves his gaze back to hers. "I'm not, either," he admits with a painful grin, fidgeting where he stands. "Can't really sleep. Too much thinking. Death Eaters and Muggles being tortured and.."

He inhales sharply, shaking his head. "You almost got cursed," he says quietly. "If I hadn't been there—"

"Can I hug you, Seamus?" [Y/N] cuts him off, and her voice sounds oddly pained. Like she's holding herself back from crying.

Seamus blinks, surprised.

"I'm sorry, I just—"

"Sure," he exhales, letting out a long breath he didn't know he was holding. "Sure, [Y/N]. Of course."

[Y/N] doesn't wait; she walks forward and throws her arms around him, gripping much too tight. She needs this. She needs something to ground her back to reality—something to pull her away from the dark part of her brain teeming with thoughts of death and torture.

It takes him a few seconds, but Seamus hugs her back. He may not know it, but when he wraps his arms around her and pats her back albeit a little awkwardly, he's bringing her back from the nightmarish part of her head.

They stay like that for quite some time. When [Y/N] pulls away, she wipes at her cheeks hurriedly and steps away, clearing her throat. "Sorry," she winces, trying for a small laugh. "It's just.. been a little much, is all."

Seamus nods, pressing his lips together. "Bit weird how just a few hours ago we'd all been losing our heads over Ireland winning, innit?" and it's a measly attempt to cheer her up, but [Y/N] looks up at him and smiles anyway. It's a little sad—a little off—but it's a smile nonetheless.

"I'm pretty sure that was just you," she tells him quietly, that same tiny smile on her face.

"Yeah, well at least Ireland won," Seamus retorts defensively, the same passion he'd been sporting a few hours ago making itself known again. And then he seems to remember that this isn't the time to be arguing about Quidditch; "Nevermind. Sorry."

"It's fine," [Y/N] assures him, a genuine smile breaking out on her face. "It's fine, Seamus. While we're at it.. you didn't finish telling me about Troy earlier."

[Y/N] needs to stop thinking about everything that happened, and she knows Seamus does too.

What better way to do that than with Seamus's passionate opinions on Ireland?

He seems to consider this for a moment. And then he folds his arms over his chest and begins in a theatrical, haughty tone, "You wouldn't know since you're a Bulgaria fan yourself," he says with feigned spite (or what she hopes is feigned), "But Troy is one of the best Chasers the Quidditch League has ever seen—he learned to fly a broom before he could even walk!"

"Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah, well, believe it. Anyways, Troy—unlike Krum—is plenty talented.."

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giuliafc · 3 years

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Stuck in a Cabin (with you)

Read on: Ao3 || FFN || Wattpad

Summoned to save his Lady's life, Adrien gets stuck with her in a cabin during a blizzard. Identities get revealed, feelings come out...but who's been plotting to kill Marinette? Will the culprit be punished? Read to find the answer :) (Adrienette)

Written by: JuliaFC

Betas: Khanofallorcs, Agrestebug, Etoile-Lead-Sama and genxha. Thank you all so much!

Cover Art credit: Rosehealer02 on Deviantart

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Chapter 1 — Lila’s plan

Lila sighed looking at the message that had just pinged on her phone.

Mamma: [Sorry, tesoro. I got stuck at work because of the snow, don’t know when I’ll get home tonight. If you want, you can order something. Otherwise dried pasta is in the first cupboard at the side of the hob. I’ll make it up to you. Love you!]

Even after all those years, messages like those left a hollow feeling into her heart. Lila had been moving around a lot in the last few years, because of her mother’s job. She hated her mother’s job. Because of it, Lila had had to leave her grandparents and aunt in Sicily and all her childhood friends. Besides, her mother had been completely absent since she started working at the embassy, sometimes not even coming back home before Lila went to bed. Sometimes she wouldn’t see her for days in a row because when she woke up to go to school, mamma was sleeping and when Lila would go to bed, mamma wouldn’t even have started to come home. Mamma tried to make up for it by filling her days off with a lot of activities they could do together, but that wasn’t enough for Lila. She wanted more. She wanted her mother all for herself, like she had been at home, when papà had been there and mamma hadn’t yet obtained her role at the Italian Embassy.

She had been moved around like a pawn: Vienna for a couple of years, then Berlin, Geneva, Dublin and finally Paris. A lot for a 14 year old girl, having to leave it all behind way too many times.

When she moved to Vienna, she had been bullied quite badly because of her accent and her difficulty speaking the language. She had been ostracised and had spent the better part of two years fighting against stupid kids that she couldn’t even understand very well. Add to the mix the fact that papà ended up having an affair and mamma decided to divorce and leave him, and Lila’s life became even worse, even lonelier.

Luckily her mother had been moved to Berlin, but the situation hadn’t improved for her. Vienna or Berlin, the language was still incomprehensible to her and the kids didn’t like her because she was new, uncool, and because her accent sucked. Because her skin was too olive. Because her hair was too brown, or her eyes too green. They used to make fun of her hairstyle, of her clothes, of anything they could put their hands on. Lila started developing a huge amount of rage, frustration and anger. Plus, she missed her papà terribly, and she couldn’t understand in her mind why her mamma had decided to leave him.

Then she moved to Geneva, and on her first day there she met a girl who ‘acted’ cool. She was a couple of years older than Lila; her name was Charlotte, but she allowed Lila to call her Lottie. She took her under her wing and gave her some very interesting lessons. Lottie was a manipulative wench. She used to be the most popular girl in class because she always knew what to say in order to flatter the interlocutor, twist words around and obtain their favour. Lila was fascinated by her ability and craved to learn how to do the same. She worked for months to copy Lottie’s mannerisms and behaviour.

‘In life, you need to always take the upper hand,’ Lottie told her. ‘Tell people what they want to hear. This will automatically bring them to your side, and when you have them wrapped around your little finger, there’s nothing that they won’t do for you. You just need to keep up the appearances and you’re set for life.

‘Always settle for the best. If you set your eyes on a boy, make sure that he’s the best catch in the whole school. Make sure to understand what he likes and slowly set your trap. Let him fall for you, and you’ll be automatically the most popular gal around.’ Lottie had proved her own advice right easily, and had ended up in a relationship with a pop singer that attended their school. That increased her popularity even more and Lila became much more envious of her.

‘If someone bothers you, destroy them before they can attack you, or as soon as you can after that,’ was Lottie’s last bit of advice.

Lottie taught Lila to act cool, taught her that image was everything. Soon ,they had become like twin sisters and instead of being the bullied one, for once Lila enjoyed the feeling of being the bully. They were L&L’s, and they were respected. Her heart broke the day her mother told her that they were moving again, but she had no choice. Saying goodbye to Lottie was one of the most difficult things she had to do in her still young life.

‘Stay strong, Lil,’ Lottie had told her. ‘Remember, image is everything. Teach those Dubliners how great you are and you won’t have any trouble. And if you do,’ she added with a wink, ‘send me a message and I’ll hop on the first flight!’

That had made her laugh. Lottie acted strong and rich, but Lila knew that in reality she would never have been able to uphold her promise, as she was still too young, and had no money.

Dublin hadn’t been that bad for her. Except the weather. The HORRIBLE Irish weather. She still had nightmares of the torrential rain and the storms. But at least, there was the sea. Lila had missed the sea so much in the last few years. She used to make excuses that she was sick, to skip school, take the DART metropolitan train and get off at Portmarnock, Greystones or Bray (more the first two than the latter, because the sandy beach reminded her more of the shores at home). She would walk on the beach without a care in the world, listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the sand.

She had followed Lottie’s advice and had acted cool as soon as she started in her new school. She had gotten used to lying when she was in Geneva under Lottie’s wing, and now the lies came out more natural than the truth. She had become immediately popular when she started, managing to get into a relationship with the most exclusive guy in the class (she didn’t like him, as he was a twat, so full of himself that you could hear him boasting from a distance, but she didn’t care. He was popular and that was all that mattered. He would never realise that she was only using him). She learned how to trick everybody, making them think that she knew all sorts of actors and celebrities. It was fantastic, she was loved and popular and her life was amazing. She was so upset when her mother was moved once more.

And that’s how she ended up in Paris — again far from her beloved sea. She hated the city, she hated the noise and the frantic way of life. Despite the horrible weather, she had loved Dublin because it was smaller and reminded her more of the small town she was born in. But Paris was massive, full of people, of noise. She couldn’t stand the noise. And she hated all those lights. Ville lumière my foot.

Immediately as she started in Françoise Dupont, she tried to remake the same setting she had carefully created in her previous location. But she found the big obstacle of Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The most annoying girl Lila had ever dealt with. Except Ladybug, obviously. Such a tiny girl, but such a big problem for her, and for her resolution to follow Lottie’s footsteps. From the very beginning, Marinette had never fallen for her lies. From the very beginning, she had tried to unmask her and show to everyone her true colours. From the very beginning, she had been an absolute and utter pest.

Lila had fought back. She wouldn’t make it easy for Marinette to win against her; Lila had soon managed to get every student in the class wrapped around her little finger, as Lottie had taught her. She had hoped that soon Marinette wouldn’t be a problem anymore. But unfortunately, she still was. Even more annoyingly, Adrien, whom she was trying to charm in order to again be the most popular girl in school who dated the most handsome and popular guy, seemed to believe Marinette.

Lila had tried all her tricks. She had tried to bring the whole class to her side, she had tried to even manipulate Adrien’s father and make him think that Marinette was a bad influence on his son. But nothing seemed to have an effect on the blond model, and Lila had gotten desperate. She had finally managed to set up a great trap and had gotten Marinette expelled. However, the joy hadn’t lasted long because Adrien had threatened her and had gotten to the point of making a deal with her so that Marinette would be readmitted to school.

Lila was seething that day, but she had no choice. Losing Adrien’s friendship would have been even more detrimental to her image. It didn’t matter if it was only a fake friendship; it would add to her image, and image was everything, as Lottie said.

The more time passed, the more Lila hated Marinette. She had tried everything she could to make her life miserable, but the young designer somehow always managed to resist. Even getting akumatised and trying to use Hawkmoth’s power against Marinette didn’t work, because Ladybug and Chat Noir would get in the way and protect her. They would try to expose Lila’s lies. She had had to make her lies become bigger and bigger and create more and more imaginative excuses in order to keep up with the popularity she craved. And it was never enough, because Marinette always managed to dismiss her claims and most of the time prove her wrong.

From Lila’s point of view, Marinette was the enemy. She was the sole obstacle left in her path to getting what she wanted, and she would get what she wanted, no matter the cost. In her mind, there was only one path left to take to get rid of her.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had to DIE.

Finally, she had managed to come up with the perfect plan. The perfect opportunity.

The perfect excuse: a school project. She had cheated the sorting and gotten paired with Alya, and the weather today was giving her even more help. When something is meant to be, it’s meant to be. It had already been a cold winter up to then, but very unusually for Paris, in the last week the temperature had dropped way below zero. In fact, it had dropped so low that it had been declared the coldest winter in history, only topped once in the late 1800’s.

Lila didn’t like the cold. Her family came from a little village on the sea, where it was always warm even in the bad season. Yes, it had been cold from time to time, but the sea warmed the temperature up and made the chill more bearable. Her beautiful sea, which she missed so much after having gotten a taste of it back in Dublin. But there was no sea in Paris, only that stupid river… and no warm weather in the winter, especially not this year.

But that cold weather, for once, wasn’t upsetting her because it was helping her craft her plan; she had faced the freezing temperature that very morning before school, and had set up her trap. She would use the cold to her advantage. And this time, she’d have the perfect alibi, and not even Adrien would suspect of her.

This time Marinette would be gone. Forever.

“Are you all right, Lila?” asked Alya, her face showing genuine concern when Lila dumped her phone on the desk in front of her with a pout.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just another charity event being cancelled this week because of the snow,” she made up. Alya’s frown disappeared and the girl gave her a look full of admiration.

“I don’t know how you do it, Lila, your commitment to charities and people in need is admirable, really.”

Lila gave Alya her best puppy eyed glance. “This city, and especially Ladybug and Chat Noir, have done so much for me with all the times I have been akumatised. It’s only nice to give something back!”

Alya put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re a truly amazing person, Lila. I have been akumatised four times, and I guess half of Paris has been in a way or another, but nobody does all you do to ‘give it back to the community’.” The girl with glasses looked at her door thoughtfully. “But if you’ll excuse me a moment, I need the restroom.”

And that’s when the perfect opportunity arose. Alya’s phone was resting on the desk in front of them. Lila gave a cunning side glance to the brunette who had just stood up and was fixing her glasses on her nose and, with a graceful flick of her finger, she pushed Alya’s phone slightly making it fall to the ground, quickly kicking it with her foot underneath the computer desk so that Alya wouldn’t find it.

“Uh… I’m sure my phone was here a moment ago…” muttered Alya looking at the computer desk and scratching her head. She moved her gaze around superficially, but since she couldn’t see the phone anywhere, she sighed. “Well, never mind. I’ll be right back,” she said, looking at Lila before disappearing from view.

“Take your time,” said Lila, her lips curling in a wide smirk as she picked up the phone from the ground. Things seemed to be going her way this time. The phone was unlocked. Lila’s eyes had a triumphant gleam in them as she looked for a conversation with Marinette.

She quickly peeked to ensure that Alya was still in the restroom and opened the chat with Marinette. Then she typed the message she had been planning all day, clicking send immediately after.

Alya (Lila): [Hey, girl! The girls and I are planning to go to Lac Daumesnil. Fancy doing some ice skating with us?]

She kept eyeing the door of the restroom with concern, but Alya was still there. Soon she saw the three dots of the conversation flashing, meaning that Marinette was answering.

Marinette: [It’s been some time since I went ice skating. Last time was a disaster. Sounds like a good idea, Alya. I will be there in an hour]

Alya (Lila): [Great. Start skating if you get there before us. We’re on our way!]

Marinette: [OK!]

Lila looked at the messages with a smirk and took care of deleting each of them one by one. Alya wasn’t going to find out. It was after she had just deleted the last message that Alya emerged from the restroom and she put the phone down immediately.

Alya frowned at her. “Are you okay, Lila?”

“Yes. I found your phone; it was on the floor here.” She pointed at the side of the desk. “I thought I heard it notify you of something, but there’s no notification, nothing at all.”

Alya looked at her phone with interest. “Oh. Maybe an akuma alert?” She started scrolling through her phone, but she didn’t find anything new. “That’s peculiar, there’s no new announcement.”

“Don’t worry, I must have made a mistake,” said Lila, dismissing the conversation with a gesture of her right hand. “So we were saying, about Napoléon?”

This took Alya’s attention away from her phone and brought her back to concentrating on the project they were working on. Lila smirked — her plan was unfolding well.

Author’s Note:

Hi again! I know, I know, another story. I told you I was going to unload everything I had this weekend. This isn’t finished yet (well, one part is, and in theory it could be left like that, but the second part I thought is worth writing!) so I will update this, the AU and “When Magic Fails” as soon as I can. Hope you liked getting inside Lila’s head. The next chapters are not about her, don’t worry. Or rather, worry, because the next chapters are her plan unfolding. And the title of the next chapter (and the beautiful cover art) is kind of revealing… so, well, I’ll hide again… ^^;

In the next instalment of “Stuck in a cabin (with you)”, “Drowning”:

— “I don’t know, Marinette. This sounds fishy. Why aren’t your friends here yet?”

— “I can’t move, Tikki, I think I have cramps! HELP ME!”

— “Sugarcube! It won’t happen again, not if we can help it, don’t worry!”

Ehrm… I know. Doesn’t sound good, right? ^^ Please subscribe if you’re interested in knowing what is going to happen, so you will know when the next update is!

Last but not least, as usual, if you read this and you’re not part of our wonderful Discord server already, but you enjoy reading, writing and talking about Miraculous, please join our Discord server, Miraculous Fanworks (for people on FFN, discord dot gg slash mlfanworks). See you there soon. Not sure when I will update this story but it won't be too long! Promise!

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #adrienette #adrien agreste #adrien and marinette #reveals #identity reveal #marinette dupain cheng #tales of ladybug and cat noir #ladybug #lila rossi #hurt/comfort #angst #romance #hurtcomfort #marichat

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quazartranslates · 3 years

Text

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH116

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 116: The Dream of the Holy Nun (VI)

Out of habit, Qi Leren went to Chen Baiqi to buy some information about the Holy City. Unfortunately, Chen Baiqi didn't have any details on it, only an old map of the Holy City from decades ago that she made Qi Leren pay for. Chen Baiqi reserved the task information of "The Dream of the Holy Nun" from him, to be sold to her when he finished his task.

Qi Leren also asked her if she had any interest in this task. Although the number for the task was already full, if Chen Baiqi was willing to join, he could consider persuading Dr. Lu to stay safe in the clinic.

Chen Baiqi gave him an inscrutable look: "I’ve been able to live in this world for eight years by holding a principle."

"What principle?" Qi Leren asked.

"Never die easily unless you have to," Chen Baiqi said.

“……”

"This kind of task involving the demon invasion from more than 20 years ago is either epic difficulty or a chain task that will go through eighty-one difficulties before finally becoming epic difficulty. Anyway, it won't be easy. I wouldn't be surprised to see demons all over the city as soon as you enter the Holy City. Please Qi Leren, don't let me sweep your grave again," Chen Baiqi patted Qi Leren on the shoulder and said with a smile.

"Hey, don't give me a flag," Qi Leren said depressedly.

"You'd better hold Su He’s thighs. He may have items that force him out of the task. He would never let himself die from not being able to stand the difficulty. After all, there’s still a long way to go. It's a pity that you are a little poor, otherwise I could sell you some high-quality items. Right now I can only sell you cheap little miniature bombs, I really can't make a lot of money." Although Qi Leren had earned a lot of survival days, he was still a poor wretch in Chen Baiqi's view. She couldn't extort money before he was fattened.

Qi Leren, after paying for the task’s necessities, went home depressed.

The mandatory task for the first month had arrived. In the first month, Qi Leren performed two tasks, namely, Witchcraft Sacrifice and Castle Cry; one was a main world task and the other was a copy world task. During the tasks’ execution, the players’ remaining survival days would not be consumed, but they were still counted as survival time spent by players.

Every mandatory task could be postponed for one week. If a player failed to start after the deadline, he would be forced into the task world. If a player performed a task that lasted for two months, he must complete a mandatory task within one week after the task was finished, and then complete another mandatory task within one week.

Players in the Nightmare World hated the "monthly exam", because there was almost no task reward (unless the degree of completion was extremely high), and the difficulty was also raised every month. By the third year, those players who were not qualified and neglected to improve themselves began to fall off one after another and were eliminated by the cruel monthly exam without the chance of a make up exam.

Qi Leren wasn't worried about his own strength. Ning Zhou said that his skill cards and his own strength were enough to cope with the compulsory tasks of the first three years, but he was often flustered because he frequently met tasks with unusual difficulty.

Dr. Lu, however, looked frightened, fearing that he couldn't pass the first monthly exam, and came to Qi Leren's home to start the task together. Although most of the first compulsory tasks were single-person tasks and starting together didn’t mean they would be in a task together, it made Dr. Lu feel a little safer.

But…

"You, you, you, you, hello*!" After seeing Ning Zhou standing by the window, Dr. Lu suddenly remembered that Su He had talked about a friend in Qi Leren’s home last time.

*{E/N: Dr. Lu is trying to cover up his shock by making “you” (你) into “hello” (你好)}

At the moment when Qi Leren opened the door, he wanted to throw the door in Dr. Lu's face. However, if you thought about it carefully, Ning Zhou and Dr. Lu would meet each other sooner or later. Seeing him early was the same as later since he had to introduce people to Ning Zhou.

"Dr. Lu, this is Ning Zhou, who will participate in the 'Dream of the Holy Nun' task. Ning Zhou, this is Dr. Lu, whose full name is Lu Cangshu, he’s my friend from the same Novice Village who’s a healer," Qi Leren briefly introduced the two men.

Stopped on the sofa, the big black bird cawed angrily, forcing Qi Leren to introduce it to Dr. Lu to get it to stop.

Dr. Lu looked at the person from head to toe with his mouth open, pulled Qi Leren’s ear to him, and asked, "Your goddess?"

Can you not be so quick with this? Qi Leren vomited in his mind and nodded honestly.

So Dr. Lu sat down with a strange smile, looked hard at Ning Zhou, and looked hard at Qi Leren, as if he knew everything. Qi Leren felt that he couldn't explain clearly even if he had one hundred mouths.

Poor Ning Zhou didn't know why he was being scrutinized. He was completely out of the situation and was not used to getting along with strangers. He sat for a while and then went upstairs.

When Ning Zhou left, Dr. Lu tried to suppress the excitement of getting gossip, and forced him to align himself with Qi Leren seriously, saying, "I don't discriminate against homosexuals. Really, I’ve seen many as a doctor. Several little gays came to the anorectal department every day to ask my brother for a finger examination. His technique isn’t bad. It takes 30 seconds to milk a prostate..."

"...You’ve misunderstood, we’re not that kind of relationship."

Dr. Lu had a look of "Excuse me, you are living together".

"Ning Zhou just came to help me train. The training menu I gave you last time was set by him," Qi Leren explained.

"I see..." Dr. Lu suddenly realized, then looked at him askance, and asked, "Do you think I’ll believe this nonsense? Didn't your relationship die as soon as the mission was over? Why is it that now he cordially trains and practices with you? A while ago, you suddenly disappeared. I couldn't find you all over the world. I really wondered if you’d given up and chased your goddess. Now that you’ve finally caught this goddess, you actually say that you have a pure straight man friendship, hehe."

Qi Leren was speechless.

Although it was normal for two men to live together, Qi Leren believed that Ning Zhou didn't think much about it at all, but it was unconvincing in front of Dr. Lu who knew the previous episode... After all, more than half a month ago, they’d fallen in love at first sight and went through fire and water, dying to live... and then died when it was all laid bare. As a result, it took less than half a month for them to live under the same roof. This development didn’t seem quite right…

However, Qi Leren couldn't explain the Slaughter Secret Society undercover task to Dr. Lu - although he feels that after the explanation, Dr. Lu would only be more convinced that they weren’t innocent, and even Qi Leren himself began to wonder if there is something really wrong between him and Ning Zhou.

Qi Leren asked himself, if he had met Ning Zhou as a woman at a different time and place, would he fall in love with her? The answer was: he would. As a woman, Ning Zhou perfectly met all his expectations for the other half. Whenever and wherever he met her, he would definitely fall in love with her.

But if he met Ning Zhou, who was a male, would he still fall in love with him?

Qi Leren thought that the answer was probably no.

He may worship him, yearn for him, want to be friends with him, and even go through life and death for him, but he wouldn't fall in love with him, because he wouldn't consider the possibility of exceeding the limit of friends at all, and Ning Zhou would only be more stubborn than him. Even if they went through hardships and died together, they may have a deeper friendship and even affection than love, but that would never turn into love.

Feelings were so simple and complicated, neither one was deeper than the other, but only a small error would completely change them.

"Although there was something wrong at the beginning, the misunderstanding has been solved now. I think we’ll become good friends, very good friends," Qi Leren said, speaking slowly. Maybe he was a little confused, but he still said so, inexplicably determined.

Dr. Lu looked at him carefully for a long time with disbelief: "...Oh."

"Time is almost up, let's start the mandatory task." Qi Leren cast aside his distractions and concentrated on dealing with the present difficulties.

He opened the system’s menu bar and selected the mandatory task for this month. Qi Leren and Dr. Lu disappeared from the room one after another.

The eagle, who stopped on the sofa, patted its wings and flew up the stairs to return to its master. Ning Zhou, who stood on the stairs, stretched out his arm to let it land. The eagle that understood speech affectionately rubbed the side of Ning Zhou's face and felt it’s master's mood. It was very clever at times.

The two people in the living room had disappeared. Ning Zhou wanted to go downstairs to help them prepare but instead heard Qi Leren and Dr. Lu talking about him, so he had stopped on the stairs.

Friends…

This should be the most appropriate distance.

-----

Editor’s Notes:

Qi Leren: “I’m not gay.”

Dr. Lu: “Okay but like have you tried having a finger up your ass? For science.”

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

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wedreamedlove · 4 years

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Into Your World [Xu Mo Character Study]

I'm back with another post that's been rattling around in my brain, except it's a bit disconnected. However, there's been a theme that I've wanted to focus in on with Xu Mo: each other's worlds, their dreams (goals and/or fancies), and water imagery.

Contains spoilers for Chapter 24 and unreleased dates in ENG.

First, I want to give a disclaimer that MC is pretty much the only person who can get into the mens' inner worlds, and that's why they're the romantic main characters; but there's just something a little poignant with Xu Mo because of his archetype.

Li Zeyan's archetype makes him belong to another world because of his wealthy background and social status. Zhou Qiluo's archetype makes him belong to another world because it's the dark side of humanity, and he actively tries to keep MC away from that. Bai Qi's archetype is how they're already in the same world and they just need to open up to each other LOL he's the guy next door.

However, Xu Mo's archetype is literally the alienated genius [Official Life History] since he was a child and, after he lost his parents, he just threw himself into his studies and goals and didn't bother making connections with anyone.

Xu Mo: Mm, I graduated early.

Xu Mo's tone was normal, as if it were a matter unrelated to him and there was no sense of pride at all. However, it still made people impressed.

MC: So, when you were in high school, you spent all your time studying?

Xu Mo: At that time, yes.

MC: Why?

Xu Mo: Silly, why are there so many why's? It's just like when you were going to take your entrance exams, there were things I also needed to do.

[Blossom Date - CN Translation]

Heck, even now, MC is the only one he replies to in his Moments [Official Character Profile].

Since the moment we meet him, he takes on the "mentor" role and teaches MC about things. She mentions this all the time, about how he teaches her the laws of the world, etc. Xu Mo is innately part of another world because the realm of geniuses is not supposed to be understood.

However, this isn't a one-way street. Just as we can't understand them, they can't understand us. So, as MC makes an effort to understand Xu Mo, he is also making an effort to understand her.

IMO this is what makes the following interactions extremely tender and romantic.

MC: The white noise you recommended last time was really effective! Lately, my work efficiency has gone up!

Xu Mo: That's good.

Xu Mo: But, instead of your work efficiency, I hope it was useful for your sleeping problem.

MC: Recently, I listen to the sound of rain before sleeping. It feels like everything around me gets quiet when I relax and listen to it.

Xu Mo: It seems like our preferences are the same. I also like to listen to the rain when I'm relaxing.

Xu Mo: The sound of rain droplets striking the roof is calming, isn't it?

MC: It's great collecting only the sounds you like and then completely entering your own world.

Xu Mo: Then, will you also let me hear those sounds?

Xu Mo: I'd like to hear your world.

By the way, given the timeline of this conversation, this is an incredible foreshadowing of his [Nightmare ASMR].

One time, when I was studying in England, I spent months finishing a particularly tricky piece of my dissertation. After I sent it through the mail, it was already nine in the morning. I was a bit tired and planned on sleeping. The weather in England is often rainy, so it was also raining that morning and it was dark. The sound of the rain striking the windowsill was clear and it sounded soothing too.

Then, there was the sound of a piano from below. It was Chopin’s Nocturne, and played very well. Every note mixed in with the sound of the rain… unhurried drops, pitter-pattering. All was quiet, as if I was separated from the world. I stared at the curtains that were being lifted by the wind and, before I knew it, I fell asleep.

[...]

Although I don’t remember it at all anymore, I dimly feel that when I was small I also experienced a night like this. The sound of the rain, the sound of the piano… Outside the window, it’s very, very cold. I can hear the sound of the wind striking the window. And in my half-awake and half-asleep state, I’m put into a warm embrace… Closing my eyes like this… I’m able to sink into a deep, deep sleep… Just like… this right now…

[Fastened Door to the Heart]

MC: From time to time, I just want to go to your world and take a look.

Caption: Actually, I'd rather go to your world and take a look.

So, anyway, going back to the theme of entering each other's inner worlds. You can see it explicitly said here in the Reading Date. They basically exchanged reading material because she wants to understand him, with his complicated science book, and he wants to understand her, with the comics she read when she was young.

Okay, now we're going to switch tracks for a bit and this might seem disconnected (I warned you!), but take my hand because I'm definitely trying to go somewhere with this.

Part of understanding someone's world is learning about their inner thoughts, their dreams, their wishes, their fantasies, however silly or childish or abstract all of these can be.

This is also an incredibly huge point with Xu Mo because, through MC, we're supposed to feel a sense of pressure from such an accomplished scholar character, but he always works hard to diminish that sense of intimidation and presence [Xu Mo's EQ Character Study] and he never demeans her interests or makes her feel lesser for her intelligence.

Xu Mo: Either way, there must be something that only you can create.

MC: Something only I can make... Ah, I know!

Getting an idea, I divided the batter in my hands into two and made a fish and a wing.

I tried combining the two, but something felt missing.

Xu Mo, who came to my side at some point, took a spoon and used it to make scales on the back of the fish.

Xu Mo: Don't you think it looks more like one with this?

Xu Mo: Can you tell me why you thought of this?

MC: ... You won't laugh when you hear it?

Xu Mo: I think it depends on what you tell me.

MC: Then I won't tell you!

Xu Mo: I'm kidding. Will you tell me?

I didn't have anywhere to run when he looked at me and so, cornered, I told him a childish thought that I had never told anyone up to now.

MC: When I was small and I heard the story of Qixi, I thought the Milky Way was a real river with water running through it.

MC: So I ended up worrying over whether the swallows would have an accident, fall into the water, and drown...

MC: I thought that'd be sad for the swallows and so I lied to myself the entire time.

MC: That the ones who made the bridge for the weaver girl and cowherd where flying fish.

I moved the flat fish with its wing in front of him while I spoke, making it fly clumsily.

Xu Mo burst out laughing, as if he wasn't able to hold it back. My face turned bright red from the embarrassment and I returned the fish to the desk.

MC: It's really stupid, isn't it...

Xu Mo: Silly girl, you have batter on your face.

He wiped my face with the pad of his finger. There was a smile that he couldn't suppress on his mouth.

MC revealed her inner child to him, which she had never told anyone else, and he doesn't judge her for it. Please tell me you can feel the tenderness radiating out of this interaction!

Now, although the above interaction was Qixi-themed, I still find it intriguing that she replaced the swallows with (flying) fish. Because Xu Mo is all about water imagery [Xu Mo Character Study] and this appears in their next interaction below.

[Sonnet In The Eyes] "It looks like I'll be inside your most beautiful dream for certain."

I'm not going to do line quotes here because it's too long LOL but in this date, Spring Morning, they end up having a conversation about dreams and, one time when Xu Mo dozed off in his lab, he dreamed that he was a fish.

His surroundings were dark and he couldn't see the state of the water but, with a thought, he could swim a long distance. When he opened his mouth, only bubbles would come out. When he raised his head, he would see the light filtering through the waves. Sometimes, he would hear the chirps of birds transmitted through surface of the lake.

He knew he was dreaming, because he's a light sleeper, but he still observed how the wind seemed to blow above the lake and that it was the height of summer. Maybe, when it got dark, he'd be able to see the stars and fireflies. He thought about asking another fish for directions but he couldn't find anyone around him. Then he woke up.

At that time, he had run into problems in his work and, even after half a year, there was no progress. In his dream, he rashly thought that if he really was a fish then he wouldn't need to work. But, after he woke up, he suddenly had a flash of inspiration. Later, he concluded that this dream was able to let him relax a little, set his mind blank, and that's when he could get back to work.

Look at him tell MC about his dreams, reveal his struggles, and reveal his inner thoughts. He's telling her about the time when, even someone like him, met with difficulties and felt the urge to just throw it all out and give up. He's letting her into his world and that's love, baby!

Psst, don't forget about the water imagery with him being a fish.

[Flowers on the Path] "I thought it over a thousand times, and then there came a reply."

Xu Mo: Are you home already? I saw the photo you sent me.

MC: Mhm, I just got home.

Xu Mo: Lately, you've been sending me photos of clouds. Is there any special meaning behind them?

MC: Not really. I just wanted to share with Professor Xu, who is always cooped up in his lab, a good way to reduce stress.

Xu Mo: Oh? What is it?

MC: First, look at the picture.

Xu Mo: Mm, I'm looking.

MC: Then close your eyes and imagine yourself as that cloud. Tell me, what do you see?

Xu Mo: I seem... to only see pitch darkness?

MC: Pfff, I mean you can use your imagination. For example... what sights you see and what you feel.

Xu Mo: Alright, I see... a clear sky and bright sunlight. Sometimes... birds will fly past.

MC: Will they say hello to you?

Xu Mo: They'll slow down and roll around on me, frolicking.

MC: Haha, and then?

Xu Mo: And then I'll drift around leisurely like this until I see another cloud. Although it's our first meeting, I'll feel like I've known her since a long time ago.

MC: Maybe she feels the same way.

Xu Mo: So we'll click immediately and slowly lean against each other.

MC: Hahaha, as expected of our Professor Xu! Your imagination is so rich.

Xu Mo: This method really is effective and it can let me clear out my mind. After resting for a while, even my feelings are much calmer.

MC: Oh! Then Professor Xu will have two methods of relieving stress now.

Xu Mo: Two?

MC: Yup, during the day, you can look at the sky and imagine yourself as a free floating "cloud"; at night, in your dreams, you can be a "fish" swimming in the great sea with no restraints. Like this, regardless of whether it's day or night, you can say goodbye to your worries.

Xu Mo: Haha, I have to go up into the sky and then down into the water. Why do I feel like I'm even busier?

MC: Hahaha, that's true.

Xu Mo: However, compared to these, I have another method which I like even more.

MC: Oh? What is it?

Xu Mo: It's staying beside "another cloud" or "another fish". Even if we don't do anything, it can get rid of an entire day's worth of exhaustion and I'll be able to get a good rest. May I ask what she thinks about this method?

[Reducing Stress - Call]

Callbacks. I love PG's callbacks so much.

But, linking this back to everything, they're both exercising their imagination together and it shows their inner world more to each other. Not to mention, they literally bring back how he once dreamed about being a fish to escape the stress of his work.

Now, I'm changing gears again, but this time I want to talk about the physical world they're both in and how their different philosophies set them on opposite sides. I wrote about the [Use of Horror in Ch19 Study] and how, in that chapter, you can see her greatest fears manifested in what Ares does there, but also what she resolves herself to do.

They literally walk away from each other because, according to Xu Mo, their "destinations" were different from the very beginning.

However, when we get to Chapter 24...

MC: ... What if the future we both want is different? I might become your obstacle.

Xu Mo: Right now isn't the time to come to a conclusion.

Xu Mo: Reality will inevitably have pain. However, to run away from reality because of that will just lead to more regret.

Xu Mo: I'm certain the future you wish for will be beautiful and it'll be able to touch anyone's heart.

Xu Mo: You're going to take me to that sort of future. Right?

MC: ... Yes!

MC: But after the worlds become one, even if I fail then I won't be able to do things over again. If that happens...

Xu Mo: Everything will end.

Xu Mo: But that's the path you chose, right? I believe in your choice.

Xu Mo: This time, I'll follow behind you.

He had always been walking in front of me, but now he was entrusting himself to the choice I believed in.

I made my decision.

MC: Follow me closely then.

Xu Mo grabbed my hand and lightly swung it.

Xu Mo: Is this good?

My cheeks burned and I spoke incoherently.

MC: Then... don't ever let go!

Xu Mo: Mm, I'm holding on tightly.

He showed a gentle smile that was like the sunlight of spring.

Before I knew it, our fingers intertwined and it was like we exchanged a quiet promise.

I looked at our joined hands and something hot suddenly welled up in my heart.

In this immense space-time, there were countless obstacles stretched ahead of us. For a long time, we both walked with our backs to each other.

There were still unsolved mysteries between us, but now I felt like I could face anything.

This time it was my turn to pull his hand and run towards that spring without stopping.

That's love! This is love! He loves her so much!

From the beginning, Xu Mo and MC were people in different worlds (their innate nature and their philosophies) but, throughout their relationship, they both keep making efforts to understand each other and enter each other's inner worlds.

It literally culminates here in Xu Mo willing to set down his beliefs and follow hers. He's trusting in her vision of the future and that's basically a proposal from someone like him.

I literally don't have anything else to say without devolving into sappy poetry or romantic lines or something, but these two have laid their souls bare to each other and accepted every side of the other person, regardless of how alien, childish, vicious, ugly, or weird it can be. Literally, "If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known."

#love and producer #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc lucien #mlqc xu mo #love and produc(ing) meta

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addierose444 · 3 years

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Spring 2021: One Month Update

We are now just over a month into the spring semester. This is a bit strange as mid-march normally coincides with spring break. Well, normal just isn’t the norm right now and hasn’t been for a while. Like seriously, it has been a whole year since Smith sent us home last spring. Here is a blog post from a year ago about my final week on campus. That was a stressful time, but I was also so naïve about what was to come. In some ways, it’s hard to believe that a whole year has passed; at the same time, it has felt like an eternity. This post is primarily about my current courses and other life updates, but it also felt incomplete without acknowledging the passage of time. Last semester, I wrote a few update posts. I started them because I literally didn’t know what else to write about. However, I found them to be an effective post style that is worthwhile to continue using.

There does finally seem to be a bit of light at the end of the tunnel. Namely, I have received my first dose of the Moderna COVID vaccine! I was eligible thanks to my job in ResLife. I will be getting the second dose in two-weeks time. I feel very fortunate to be getting vaccinated so early. I’ll also be honest in saying that it was really stressful taking the bus to UMass and navigating through the vaccination center. Another exciting update is that I have secured a summer internship at Microsoft! You can read about my application process here.

I am currently living on-campus in Parsons House. We are fortunately still operating in Green Mode which is our least restrictive operating mode. This still includes masks, social distancing, and testing three times a week. We are also still ordering most meals on the Grubhub app. However, there is now some limited seating in the dining halls and we have transitioned to using some reusable food containers. Furthermore, Chuckett (our name for Chase and Duckett) is open for true grab and go. The best part about going to Chuckett is that they have yogurt, ice cream, and snacks. Classes and house events continue to be primarily over Zoom so that we can practice social distancing and include those not living on campus.

As for my classes, it’s been a very busy semester. I am in class less than in past semesters but have had more work outside of class. With that said, this is in part because one of my classes is asynchronous with synchronous labs. To check out all of my past courses, click here.

PHY 210 has been more interesting than I expected. It’s not an easy class, but it hasn’t been the nightmare I was worried it would be. The class has so-called pre-class check-ins (PCCIs) which are short exercises due at the start of each class (Monday, Wednesday, and Friday). We still have a full homework set due each Wednesday, but I enjoy having the PCCIs as it’s more similar to the high school homework model (short more frequent assignments that don’t have to be 100% perfect). I now have a much better understanding of complex numbers and why they are useful. Other topics we have studied thus far include differential equations and the Taylor series (both topics were briefly introduced in past calculus classes). We have also been learning the basics of Mathematica and are currently studying integrals in two or more dimensions. Last semester in MTH 212, all of the exams could be taken over multiple days (unlimited time) so it’s not the easiest transition back to timed math exams.

PHI 220 is a great complement to my four STEM classes. Specifically, it’s reading and discussion-based and doesn’t have problem sets! While there is absolutely value in courses unrelated to my majors, I really love learning concepts that come up in computer science but from a different perspective. Over the course of the semester, we have been working our way through Gödel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid. We have been learning about formal systems and been gaining an understanding of Gödel's incompleteness theorems. Later in the course, we will be delving into the study of Turing machines. Each class starts with five minutes of breathing and stretching. The first day I thought it was really weird, but have now gained an appreciation for it.

EGR 220 has been my most time-consuming class, but I have also really enjoyed the course content. I am glad that I took PHY 118 last spring as it gave me a good primer for some of the circuit theories. This is particularly useful as circuits is a fast-paced course. Labs have been frustrating at times due to technical difficulties, but having a hands-on component definitely helps my understanding and makes things more engaging. As long as we stay in Green Mode, we will have a few small-group in-person labs! We have also had and will continue to have occasional full class in-person outdoor demonstrations. (All of my other classes have been and will continue to be fully remote). In terms of course content, we have learned about passive components like resistors, capacitors, and inductors and circuit analysis techniques like nodal analysis and mesh analysis.

CSC 250 has generally been enjoyable as I have an awesome professor. I don’t dislike the course material, but I definitely prefer programming and systems to theory. Also, theoretical computer science requires writing lots of proofs which is not my favorite. I am glad that I took discrete math (MTH 153) last semester as it introduced me to proof writing. MTH 153 an unenforced prerequisite of CSC 250, which I was originally going to take concurrently due to schedule conflicts. In the course, we have been learning about regular expressions, finite automata, context-free grammars, push-down automata, and most recently Turing machines. (See what I mean about the overlap with PHI 220!)

COMPSCI 230 is my UMass computer systems class. You can read more about Five College registration here. The course is asynchronous which has its advantages and disadvantages. It’s nice being able to self-schedule my coursework, but it’s strange not really interacting with my classmates. As the UMass semester started two weeks before Smith’s, I am just about halfway through the course which is honestly sort of crazy. In the course, we have learned about data representation, von Neumann Architecture, caches, and virtual memory.

I am not taking guitar this semester and unfortunately have hardly played my guitar. Last year I had set a daily practice goal that I did a really good job of sticking to. That said, I regret having set that goal as it made playing feel more like a chore. The issue is that when the year ended I was justified in taking a few days off from playing. However, as I was really busying during Interterm it was just too easy to dive into my coursework and other responsibilities. Playing guitar is something that I love, so I am trying to incorporate it back into my life in the right way. You can read about my musical history here. Another music update, that’s really just for me to look back on is that my current favorite song is The Story (written by Phil Hanseroth and performed by Brandi Carlile). I have been listening to a lot of Brandi Carlile’s music over the past few days and absolutely love it. As for 2020 goals, like many people, mine weren’t the biggest success. I originally set out to write four original songs but only wrote two (one of which I had started in August of 2019). I was successful in my reading goal so that was at least one win. You can read about my 2020 in books here.

#college #Smith College #spring 2021 #academics #engineering #computer science #music

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