#honestly i currently have two different kinds in my desk so i can switch it up lmao

[chaoticeddie]

You 🤝 me

Keeping poptarts around as a Just In Case food

they're so convenient!! and so good!!! and they last so long!!!

#honestly i currently have two different kinds in my desk so i can switch it up lmao #I really don't want to get up earlier to eat breakfast and I don't want to be buying stuff from the vending machines #so poptarts it is! #asks #annieisyourfavourite

[the-cult-of-russo]

In the Stars

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request: hi! i was wondering if you could do a billy russo x reader in which the reader is the opposite of him because she’s carefree and dyes her crazy colors and is into astrology and basically just different but hes still really intrigued by her. thank you!

A/N: okay so this one was fun because you basically described me lmao I don't know what Billy's DOB is, but I made him a Scorpio because I mean… how could I not? Looool

Also this is kinda AU cause in my head Billy doesn't betray Frank and they all live happily ever after. Don't come at me 😂

Warnings: cursing, kinda fluff. I don't know, it's kinda playful or whatever. Just a short cute thingymabob. I already have an idea for a part two if anyone wants it. 🤔

---------------------------

You were late for work but it wasn't really your fault. You'd been distracted by the bookstore on the way and found a couple of astrology books that were calling to you. Not your fault. Not one bit. But now you were practically running down the street, books in your arms as you tried to get to work. 

You wouldn't really be in trouble. Your best friend was your boss. Gemma owned a flower shop and you'd worked there since she opened. She was the face of the shop, always in the front greeting the customers and putting together beautiful flower arrangements, whereas you lurked in the back where the 'garden' was. The back was like a giant greenhouse and you'd often water the plants and talk to them about your day. Talking to them was supposed to help them grow better. You wanted them to be happy. 

You jingled as you ran, the many bracelets and necklaces you wore clinking together as you weaved through the sea of people on the streets. You weren't panicking about getting in trouble or Gemma being mad. The plants needed watering and you didn't want them to miss out on your tale of the weird dream you'd had. 

You barely noticed the looks people gave you. You knew you probably looked a little crazy as you barrelled down the street and your hair often attracted some attention. It was currently lavender but you changed it every few weeks. You got bored with it easily and you loved switching it up. Gemma often compared you to a mood ring. 

You weren't really paying attention to where you were going and as you ran past the coffee shop, you collided with someone just as they left. You felt the splash of hot coffee all over your chest as firm arms grabbed you to keep you steady. Your books fell to the floor as you cursed at the burning and crouched to scoop them back up 

"Shit, I'm sorry," a silky voice met your ears. You glanced up at the man, the very fancy and attractive man in a suit, and smiled.

"It's fine. It was my fault," you said softly, gripping the books as you stood back up. He took out his pocket square and you couldn't help but snort as you took it and dabbed at your chest. 

"You sure you're okay? I just spilled hot coffee on you," he frowned. It was stinging but you'd be fine. You handed him the pocket square back but you were still a little damp. 

"Seriously, don't worry about it. Mercury's in retrograde right now so I'm not surprised," you snorted softly. He quirked a brow looking curious and his dark eyes flit to the books in your arms. Both his brows raised then.

"Astrology?" He asked, sounding amused. 

"Don't give me that look. Be skeptical all you want but this shit is real," you huffed playfully. He grinned and you almost swooned. How was it legal to be that attractive? He needed to be arrested. 

"I guess I'll take your word for it," he murmured. 

You didn't miss how his gaze kept wandering and it made you feel like a tiny person was inside of you lighting a fire. You gave him a good once over yourself and when your eyes landed back on his, he looked like the cat that ate the canary as he caught your wandering eyes.

"Let me guess… you're a Scorpio?" You asked with a smirk. His brows rose again and he chuckled, tilting his head a little. 

"Alright… that's just weird," he snorted. 

You stood there for a moment, both watching each other. You were so intent on basking in his presence that you almost forgot you were late for work.

"Well, as much as I'd love to stay here and chat with the beautiful stranger that gave me third degree burns, I'm late for work," you grinned cheekily at him.

He looked caught off guard for less than a second before he laughed and the sound made you tingle all over.

"Do I at least get to know your name?" He smirked softly. Your grin widened and you shook your head.

"Where's the mystery in that?" You asked playfully, making him chuckle. You shot him another smile as you moved around him, picking up your pace but not running anymore. You were smiling like an idiot and when you glanced over your shoulder, he was watching you with a weird look on his face. It was a mix of amusement and curiosity.

"I'm an Aries by the way!" You called to him with a cheeky wink. He chuckled, shaking his head incredulously before you turned back around. 

Wow. He seriously shouldn't be allowed to just walk around looking like that. It was a health risk for everyone. You were practically giddy by the time you came into the shop.

"What's with you?" Gemma snorted. She was behind the counter arranging some flowers.

"I just met the most handsome guy on the planet and now I'm all sticky," you grinned, making a startled laugh leave Gemma's lips.

"Wow, I don't even want to ask," she smirked. 

You beamed at her, setting the books on the counter as you leaned on it on the opposite side. 

"I ran into him and he spilled his hot coffee on me," you gestured to your red tinged chest and Gemma rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. 

"Of course you did," she smiled softly. You had a reputation of being kind of clumsy. Well, it was more like your head was in the clouds so you didn't pay enough attention. You were constantly almost being hit by cars. It might be a problem. 

"Oh man…. He was just… ugh. And he's a Scorpio," you wiggled your brows with a mischievous smile and Gemma laughed.

"Well shit, did you get his number?" She asked curiously.

"Nope. He asked for my name and I didn't give it. I don't know… I just have this feeling I'll see him again sometime," you shrugged. 

People thought you were weird but your intuition was never wrong. After Gemma shook her head again with a smile you slipped into the garden with a bright grin. 

"Hello, little ones. Let me tell you about Mr Coffee," you grinned, filling up the watering can before you started watering the plants as you regalled them with your encounter with the handsome stranger. You really hoped you were right and that you'd see him again. Honestly, you kind of hoped he'd get you sticky in another way. 

--------

Billy was almost dazed as he sat at his desk around noon.  He couldn't get the girl with the purple hair out of his head. Kept thinking of her smile, her eyes, her fucking everything. He was a goner as soon as she flashed him that cheeky grin and his thoughts kept drifting to her. 

Frank walked in the office with some sandwiches as he always did as they shared their lunch break together. He quirked a brow at Billy being so distracted as he plonked down in the chair on the other side of the desk.

"What's with you?" He asked gruffly, slightly amused. Billy blinked a little, shaking his head as he reached for his sandwich.

"It's nothin'," he huffed, unwrapping the food. 

Frank squinted slightly before a sly grin crept onto his face.

"Who is she?" He asked knowingly. Billy snorted, shaking his head again. 

"I don't know. Didn't get her name but apparently she's an Aries," he smirked. Frank barked a laugh before Billy told him about what happened.

"Oh man. She sounds like a handful. You must be losing your charm, man. Billy the Beaut couldn't even get her name," Frank chortled. Billy squinted, thoroughly offended as he balled up the sandwich wrapper and tossed it at his best friend. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I gotta feelin' I'll see her again. I'll get her name and number then," he smirked confidently. 

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo imagine

[kingsuckjin]

Ruin Him - JJK

> Genre: Jk virgin coworker au, smut  

>Warnings: Jk is a bit subby, he’s a virgin, public sex/ car sex, fingering (f receiving) reader is a dom, kinda soft, corruption kink 

>Rating: 18+ (for smut)

>Synopsis: You get fired and expect it to be a lot worse of a day than it is. your friend the IT guy at the office comes to your rescue.

> Words: 3.5k

“I’m sorry but your subpar work just isn’t cutting it, we’re letting you go. Please gather your things and vacate the premises.” 

That’s what he said. Your boss sat there in his fancy chair, not giving a fuck, seeming proud of himself for his words. He didn’t care that you worked your ass off for the past few years at this job praying all your work paid off in the form of a raise or a promotion just for him to call you a different name the handful of times he ever acknowledged your existence. He didn’t care that you didn’t know how to find a new job on such a short term, he didn’t even give you two weeks’ notice. He probably didn’t even care that because of this you might have to move back in with your parents for a while. You felt like you had failed, but you were more than heartbroken as you stormed through the maze of cubicles towards your own where your desk was, clutching the box that your boss had handed you with somewhat of a smile, you were pissed. The silent stares you knew that you were getting only angered you more, you felt like a circus clown like they wanted a good show. You felt like screaming at them “what are you looking at?!” but then again maybe they pitied you. You probably had mascara running down your tear-soaked cheeks, they probably knew what had happened from the way you were acting.

It didn’t matter, you just wanted out of there, and the looks and silence from them only made you rethink even taking the time to get your things at all. 

You held the box against the side of your desk as you carelessly raked your things into it with teary, blurred vision. You had worked so hard just to toss years worth of being here into a box.

You felt so alone, no one had said a word to you, your mind raced with pain and anger as you took your filled box and began to quickly race towards the elevator. You saw that elevator as the light at the end of this nightmare tunnel, it would shield you from the staring, from the gawking, from the pity. You did your best to hold back the wall of sobs that were threatening to break forth and bring you to your knees as you thought about how someone could be so cold and just fire you as if you weren’t even a person.

In it the midst of your thought and rushing, you could feel your foot catch on something, next thing you were sent falling forward. The bottom of the box fell through and you and your things went crashing to the floor.

You wanted to just lay there, to just give up and hope you melted and soaked into the floor so you could just get away as fast as you could from this embarrassing situation.

“Here” someone muttered. You had been engrossed in your self-pity and stares from the others you hadn’t even realized the one and the only person you ever counted on was here to rescue you.

You pushed yourself off the floor as he concentrated on taking the box on the floor gathering your things and putting them back inside, carefully holding the now broken bottom so they all didn’t fall through. You looked at the man as he pushed his round glasses up onto his face and stood. He took the box under one of his arms and outreached the other arm to you to help you up, which you graciously took.

“Let me walk you to your car, okay?” he announced more so than asked, he was already heading towards the elevator with your things leaving you to run along behind him to catch up.

You had spent so many lunches with this man, he was the only real not standoffish one here, the only one that was easy to talk to and get along with. Maybe because it was because he was young like you, or maybe because he was an outcast at this place like you. Jeon Jungkook worked in IT, he was shy, stuttered when nervous combined with his little habit of pushing his glasses upon his face. He was a bit of a nerd, or that’s what people said around the office, but you had always seen him as nothing more than a friend. 

As you were accompanied out the doors of the building and into the parking lot, you were still holding back the tears that were threatening to spill. The walk to your car was silent, but he seemed to stall with the box in his hand as you stopped next to your car.

“I’m- I’m so sorry.” Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed and his voice took on a tone that dripped with guilt and pity for you.

“It’s alright,” you said weakly as you took the box from him, careful to hold the button as he had. “I’m uh-” your voice broke and shook just a bit making you clear your throat and avoid eye contact with the man whom you had spent a lot of lunches with, the man who had just witnessed your near meltdown over being fired.

“For what it’s worth, he’s probably going to fire me too, he never liked either of us. Jokes on him though, I have another job lined up already, better paying too. Hey! I could put in a good word for you! I bet they’d have a spot open, it’s run by an old friend, and I bet I could-”

“Ah Kookie, you don’t have to do that.” you wondered how bad he had felt for you to offer this.

“I know, but what would lunch be without my lunch friend? If I’m switching jobs you might as well come with me, you know? I can give my friend a call tonight. You’re a good and dedicated worker and I’m sure he won’t say no.”

“Really?” you felt your tears and emotions subside for a moment and make way for a little excitement and relief.

“Of course.” he gave a little chuckle as he looked down at the pavement of the parking lot “You did tolerate being friends with the office nerd for the past few years, it’s the least I could do.” 

“I never once thought you were a nerd Kook, they were all just dicks.” you smiled at his smile from your honesty.

“Hey, uh, listen…” he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose once again and ran a hand through his hair. “If you’re not doing anything tonight maybe… would- would you want to- go out for dinner? You know? As a celebration dinner for not- not having to put up with that dictator anymore.” he thumbed towards the building behind him “Y-you don’t have to, it’s-”

The more he went on the more he seemed to stutter and that let you know he was nervous.

“Yeah actually, let’s do that. You still have my number, right?”

He gave you a wide smile as he nodded.

“Is eight okay? You want to pick me up?” you asked as you shoved the box haphazardly into your back seat. 

“Y-yeah, okay. I’ll text you,” he assured you.

You opened the driver’s side door but paused a moment before taking the few steps back over to him and planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks for making all of this a lot better Kook.” 

You didn’t need to turn back around and see his face to know he wore such a cute flustered look, you had seen it before when casually flirting with him, you had always adored it, as a matter of fact, you more than adored it. He was always so shy and quiet and to be honest that was your thing, you often found yourself daydreaming about what he’d be like in bed. Would he let you take control over him? Would he switch into someone more aggressive? Tonight you were determined to find out, you had a bad enough day and decided that the dick of the gentlemanly coworker you had been thirsting after for years might make it all so much better.

He picked you up right at eight, still in his crisp white work shirt and black slacks, freshly off work. His car had the same smell like him. He made small talk the entire drive but you found yourself staring at your knight in shining armor. You liked how the lights from the street poured into the dark car occasionally and lit his smooth skin and glittered off those glasses that seemed too big for his face. You itched to touch him, you felt like you were wasting time already, you decided to test the waters, so when he was mid-sentence you placed a hand just above his knee. He paused a moment and you knew if he was about to reject you or if he asked you to move your hand, you would and simply just have a normal friend dinner with him then you would gladly do that instead, you did like spending time with him after all and you knew he wasn’t the kind of person to hold something like a little crush against you forever.

He didn’t stop you though, he didn’t move your hand, he just ignored it and continued about how he knew the guy who would hopefully soon be your new boss and how cool he was.

You honestly didn’t know where to go from there, dinner was casual, it was sweet, he took you to a nice steak house and paid, saying that you were “currently jobless” in a joking way. You had had so many lunches with him in the break room, you had eaten together before, but this time it felt so different. He seemed to stare more, stutter more, push up his glasses more and that was a sure sign of nervousness. You tried to join in on the conversation and not seem too boring in hopes he would want to do this again with you one day, but you honestly couldn’t get the thought of completely dominating him out of your head. 

You didn’t make another move though, you were too worried he was just too shy or afraid to tell you not to. On your way home, just as you were figuring you were probably better off as friends any way he asked a strange question. 

“Can we pull over and talk? I-I’d like to talk a little if that’s- that’s  alright?” 

“Of course, I’m in no rush to get home.” you replied knowing that this was it, he was about to give you the “we’re only friends” talk.

He said nothing else until he parked in a back empty parking lot of a store that had closed down months ago. Then he turned the car off, and simply just sat there a moment. 

You wondered if you should ask what he wanted to talk about or start apologizing for your inappropriate behavior on the way to dinner when he finally turned to you, not making eye contact.

“I-I-I…” he stopped a moment and sighed, seeming a little aggravated at his stuttering “I wish I didn’t do that.” he then muttered. “I have something to tell you.”

“Okay.” you urged listening closely.

“I’m bad at this whole thing.” he gave a short sad laugh, more like a short breath than anything “I’m a virgin… is why.” he stared out the windshield as he spoke, seeming regretful once he did it.

“Hm,” you said and gave a little shrug and that’s when he looked at you again, inspecting your nonchalant reaction.

“You probably guessed that, right?” he let his forehead fall on the steering wheel and closed his eyes “why am I so dumb and obvious?” he seemed to ask himself.

“I guessed that you liked it rough in bed, like a lady in the streets but a freak in the bed, you know?” 

He lifted his head and looked at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“First of all, did you just quote an Usher song after I told you I was a virgin? Secondly, I am not whatever you thought I was.” his laugh was more of an amused one this time.

“I did. I did quote Usher. What do you say we find out though how you are in bed, right here, right now? I mean I’m not a virgin, but I’m a car sex virgin so it would be like we’re taking each other’s virginities.” you joked.

His eyes nearly went as wide as his mouth had fallen.

“N-n-now? Here? In my car?”

“Sure” you shrugged “Unless you’re opposed to it.” you shrugged once again.

His reply was a rapid shake of his head.

“Good,” you replied as you made your way over the center console that separated the both of you until your knees sat on both sides of his lap, straddling it. 

You now face to face and he looked you in the eye but seemed so speechless. You didn’t need to hear him stutter to know that he was nervous, his quick breaths were the only noise in the quiet car.

You connected your lips to his and the result was a slow but passionate kiss, no tongue, nothing too fancy. 

When you pulled your head back away from him you decided to ask to make sure this was what he wanted.

“Are you sure you want this?” You didn’t have to wait long for your whispered question to be answered.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this. Turns out you- you weren’t the- the only one who has imagined what the other would be like in bed.” you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed down his nervous stuttering “do what you want, how you want it. S-show me what you like”

With his confirmation you reached down to the side of his seat, letting it fall back until he was lying horizontally.

“Let’s have some fun then Kook.” you leaned down over him hiking up your best dress so that your thighs were freer and your purposefully worn sexiest panties were exposed and could grind against his dress pants and hardening bulge in them.

When your lips met with his they were more hungry and less gentle than the first time. Your tongue found his and encouraged it to play with yours.

He seemed less and less nervous as time went by, even placing his hands on your ass and squeezing in rhythm with your still clothed but damp core grinding into his erection under his dress pants. You undoubtedly needed more though, you craved to fluster him more, you wanted him to feel what he was doing to you, how he was absolutely wrecking you without doing anything at all.

“Touch me.” you pried your lips from his to demand.

“I-I- I’ve done that part before but I-I-” you lifted his hand and guided it to tour soaked panties and he began to touch you through the material, letting his fighters over where your clit lie underneath the sticky material.

“So good, you’re doing so good.” you moaned just desperate for his touch to the point where you would take anything from him. He sucked in a breath at your praise. 

“Like that? What if I…” he slipped his hand down the front of your panties, pulling them down just enough to reach inside and once again run his fingers over your slit, but this time with nothing separating you from his touch.

“Do you feel how wet I am for you? I want you so badly.” you took hold of his wrist and guided his fingers until they were inside of you.

“Fuck.” he breathed a shaky breath. “So tight.” 

You bounced a little on his two fingers taking them inside of you.

“Tell me that you dreamed of me taking your cock.” you moaned as you imagined it yourself.

“I have. I have for so long. Please fuck me.” he seemed so desperate and a tingle ran through you at how much you enjoyed the sound of him being so needy for you.

“Beg me Kookie. Beg me to be the first to take your cock, show me how much you want me.” 

“Please please please, please. Be my first, I want it, I want you,” he whispered sweetly and still breathlessly.

“Pull down your pants.” You ordered. his fingers left your pussy you couldn’t help but see the slick sheen of them as he fumbled with his pants. You leaned over into your seat and took the condom in your bag out that you had put there in hopes this all went well.

You opened the wrapper and rolled the latex down over his now exposed cock he had been slightly stroking. You were impressed with his size, he was hiding something pretty big in those dress pants all those years, maybe if you would have known all of this you would have offered to fuck him sooner, but you tried not to dwell on all of that, you just wanted to feel his cock fill you. 

Your hips hovered over him, ready to take him at any second. 

“Wait, we’re in p-public we could get in-”

“Trouble? You want to back out of this now?” you questioned with a raise of an eyebrow.

“No, no, no. I’m doing this.” he was determined, he reached for his glasses to take them off, but you stopped him.

“Leave them, I want you to see my face clearly when I cum for you, on your cock buried inside of me.” with that you lowered yourself down onto him. You didn’t take it too slowly when you finally had him entirely inside of you, you began to rock your hips right away, leaving him moaning and gripping your hips tightly with every movement. 

It was bliss to finally have him in you, to be wrecking him underneath you like this, to hear him cursing with sensitivity under his hard, quick breaths.

You were leaning in so far forward to sporadically kiss him and bite at his lips roughly, that your clit rubbed against his pubic bone with every movement. 

“You like that Jungkook? You like the way you feel inside of this pussy?” You teased.

“Fuck.” he repeated among groans of pleasure with his eyes shut. “What-what id I accidentally-”

“It’s alright, it’s your first time, but try to hang in there and let me play with you just a little longer.” you coached, but you were already riding him so fast, just seconds from your orgasm, you were so out of breath and all you wanted was to let him feel you cum around him. You wanted to ruin him for life, and from the fucked out expression on his face you seemed to be doing your job. 

The nerdy guy from work was balls deep inside of you and you could feel his cock twitching and hard, ready to release any second and finally give you what you had been daydreaming of for so many years. 

His normally neat hair was a mess and his glasses were askew as his fingers dug further into your skin.

“Kook I’m so close.” you panted as you forced your hips to move faster. His jaw was viably clenched as he viably also struggled to hang on. 

He slammed his hips up into you in time and that was what did it.

You gripped his white dress shirt and he let out a long moan. His cock twitching as you felt him release into the condom dragged out your high. You could only watch his furrowed brows as he seemed to hold your hips in place as he came.

Then you were left staring at each other, heavy breathed and not saying anything for a moment

“Y-you know, even if I wasn’t a virgin, that would have p-probably sill been the best sex of my life.” 

You let out a laugh as you climbed off of him and back into your seat, pulling down your dress as you did so.

“Yeah, I have to admit you weren’t too bad, especially for someone who’s never done that before. You have drive and dedication… I guess I should’ve seen that coming since you show that in your job.” you talked through him pulling off the condom, wrapping it in a napkin, and tossing it.

“At least you think so, I was fired today too. Jokes on him though, we both have new jobs now anyway.” he smiled and you let your surprise show on your face “I told you earlier but you didn’t seem to be listening, now I know where your mind was.” he said, making you laugh.

“And that’s where my mind will be from now on, we should do this more since we’re still coworkers, our little secret, yeah?” 

“As if I’d say no to the best sex of my life again.” he started the car and pushed his glasses back up.

“Still the only sex of your life, but I’m kind of glad it’s the only so you think it’s the best.” you snorted with laughter at your own statement.

“Like I said, even if it wasn’t my only and there were so many more before you, I swear it would still be the best.” he gave you a smile. you knew it was cheesy but it was still cute.

#jeon jeongkook #jungkook #Jungkook oneshot #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fluff #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #sub jungkook x reader #sub jungkook

[chatonne-rousse]

The Importance of the Black Cat

Adrien has a lot on his mind - concerns, questions, doubts. And right now, he has only one being to confide in. There is not enough cheese in the world to make Plagg want to handle this situation, but his holder needs him, and he knows two things with certainty: his very important place in the world, and that no one hurts his kitten. Not if he has anything to say about it.

Read it on Ao3 here.

The Camembert he holds in his paws is aged beautifully, gooey and perfectly pungent. He knows it was expensive, purchased with his holder’s allowance, and therefore tries to at least do the kid the honor of enjoying it. But as he mulls over the day’s events, the first few bites sit like a brick in his tiny stomach.

Tonight, Plagg eats his cheese for sustenance only. It’s hard to find the usual joy when his holder hasn’t spoken since they arrived home.

The light in the closet switches off as Adrien shuffles out into the bedroom, dressed for bed in black pajama pants and an old white t-shirt. The departure from his usual red and black spotted look doesn’t escape Plagg’s notice, but he chooses not to comment.

Plagg discovered long ago that his devotion to his holders is inversely proportional to his ability to counsel them. He knows he’s not good at advice beyond cheese and chaos. He wasn’t made for emotions and heartfelt chats.

A sure and confident holder didn’t usually open his heart or seek his kwami’s counsel, and Plagg liked that. They did their jobs, they shared their lives, but they didn’t share their hearts. They didn’t need to, because his holder needed his power more than his presence.

But once in a while, he’d materialize in front of a human whose eyes shone with innocent kindness, and he knew immediately that they would need him. If he’s honest, Plagg will admit that these are the best wielders of destruction. It’s all about intention, after all, and a pure heart rarely destroys with disregard. These holders, however, always seemed to come with a price - they saw their kwami as less of a means to an end and more of a friend.

He loved these holders. He would level cities and wipe out species for them. But oh, did he ever dread having to talk to them. Really, really talk.

Plagg knows his kitten will break the silence soon. It’s only a matter of time. He isn’t sure if it will be to talk about being stuck in the elevator with his very good friend, a monologue that will no doubt be punctuated by sighs and soft eyes that will be quickly denied if his kwami points them out.

One undeniable fact from the day, however, is the racing pulse and rapid breathing of a boy terrified of being locked up and feeling increasingly helpless in the situation. Plagg knows very well that it happened, because he was tucked inside Adrien’s shirt listening to his pounding heart. He hopes his holder doesn’t want to talk about that, because it’s way above Plagg’s pay grade.

He also hopes his holder won’t ponder why only he was dragged through the portal to safety, or why Rena Rouge was the one to do it.

Plagg gets down almost two full wedges of cheese before Adrien sits down on the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Plagg?” His voice is quiet but doesn’t betray any emotion yet. That’s actually more worrying.

Steeling himself, Plagg swallows the last big bite of cheese and zips from the desk to perch on top of the globe, facing his holder. “What’s up?”

He heaves another sigh before looking up into Plagg’s eyes, emotions still unreadable.

“How important is the black cat?”

Oh. A wave of relief makes Plagg’s whiskers perk up. The question is unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. He’s lousy with advice but an expert at talking about himself.

He puffs up his tiny chest and grins a fanged grin. “Only the most important, kid! Everything has to end sometime - except me, of course, but,” he shrugs, “we can’t all be perfect.” He hopes that will garner a smile, but realizes a moment too late that he’d started his speech talking about death to a boy who lost his mother at thirteen. Oh no, he thinks, panicking. He’s bad at this, too.

He barrels on. “I mean, creation is nothing without destruction. The very concepts go together, always. Can you imagine a world where flowers never wilt and people never die?” Adrien’s eyes widen and his brows furrow. Shit, Plagg thinks. I did it again.

“Plagg, that sounds...really nice, actually.”

He shakes his head. He can get this back on track. He’ll fall back on pragmatism like always. “It does, but that’s not how the world works. Your planet can’t sustain an expanding and eternal population. Everything grows and lives and dies and starts over again. Everything has a beginning and an end.” Plagg’s eyes shine with pride. “Only I, and my very lucky holders, get to harness that inevitability into a real power, and use it for good. Tikki and her bugs can create, but we destroy,” he pitches his voice lower, his tone serious, “so they can create again.”

Adrien’s eyes are still wide, but Plagg sees wonder and a bit of pride there. He lets his tiny shoulders relax.

“I never thought of it that way. You really are amazing, buddy.” He reaches out to scratch Plagg behind the ears with a soft smile that his kwami would see doesn’t reach his eyes if his own weren’t closed with pride and delight.

The hand retreats, and Plagg opens his eyes just to watch Adrien’s face fall.

“But I meant...how important is the black cat to the ladybug?”

"How...what?" Plagg splutters, taken aback. "I just told you, kid. Every beginning has an end. Creation and destruction are perfectly equal. You don't want to know what happens when they're not."

Adrien's eyes snap to his, clearly on the edge of a dawning horror. Oh no. Not again.

Plagg waves his paws. "What I mean is, you need each other. Tikki is never activated without me, and I'm never called up without her. We're two halves of a whole. You've never seen the inside of the miracle box," he scowls, "which is bullshit, by the way, but if you did, you'd see that the center is a circle, split perfectly in two. Tikki and I go together, and so do you and Ladybug. You can do this without each other, but you're not meant to."

Adrien's shoulders droop. "Yeah, I know she can win a fight without me. She's had to do it before." He sighs. "A lot."

"Sure," Plagg agrees, and can't resist adding, "but she wouldn't need to if you didn't throw yourself in the line of fire every chance you get."

"I have to protect her, Plagg! You know that! Ladybug is more important than me."

"Kid!" Plagg bursts out in frustration, "I don't know how else to tell you this! You. Are. Equal."

“Then…” Adrien’s breath catches and he blinks several times. “Then why doesn’t she need me anymore?”

For just a moment, in the time it takes for the words to register and translate and pierce his heart, Plagg’s ire flares white-hot and livid. No one hurts my kitten and gets away with it. But he looks into his holder’s eyes, sad and achingly lonely, and his anger slips away as quickly as it came. He’ll deal with his own feelings on the matter later.

Besides, it’s not Marinette’s fault. She’s doing the best she can. He’d still relish giving her an earful, but piling on the heartbreaking guilt about his holder’s situation wouldn’t really help and might just snap what Tikki has insinuated is a currently-tenuous grasp on stability. Plagg knows she’s making decisions based on the mentorship of a flawed man, a failed guardian who ran from his mistakes for the better part of two centuries.

Fu never understood Plagg and never tried to. None of the guardians did. Beyond knowing the basics of his power and the importance of the ring of the black cat in relation to the earrings of the ladybug, Fu never saw Plagg as anything more than a liability. Which is honestly fair, but Plagg doesn’t have to like it.

He definitely doesn’t have to like it when the rules of secrecy leave his kitten in the dark and feeling useless. Especially after what he now suspects from the clues he got today.

He looks into his holder's tear-filled eyes and sees a soft innocence rare among the long line of black cats who've worn the ring. This might just be his most difficult assignment yet, but it's also one of his favorites, and he'll protect his kitten no matter what it takes. Even if it means talking about feelings.

Once his stomach is settled, he's going to eat so much cheese to make up for this.

Plagg takes a deep breath. "Who spotted Optigami in the elevator today?"

Adrien blinks but says nothing.

"Who made sure Ladybug didn't tell her secrets to Truth?" He waits another moment, watching Adrien's blush rise and letting his words sink in. "And who protected her identity when she was hit by Kwamibuster?"

"Okay, but—"

Plagg steamrolls his holder shamelessly. "You were the key to defeating Gorizilla, Stormy Weather, Lady Wifi. I have a long memory, kid. Do you want me to keep going? Because I haven't even gotten to the times you kept your bug afloat with all those pep talks and disgusting feelings. A nice piece of Brie would've perked her up, but I have to admit that your methods worked, too."

Adrien sniffs and chuckles. "Okay, buddy. I get it." His eyes still betray an ocean of hurt, but Adrien's soft smile seems genuine.

Plagg has never quite understood human emotion, though he's seen it all in his many centuries among humanity. He's also seen the myriad ways humans cover up one emotion with another (and another, and another, and sometimes destructive behaviors and very dark paths). He doesn't much enjoy dealing with human feelings, but he when it comes to masks, he prefers the very stylish ones he manifests on his holders' faces, changing with the times and his whims and his holders' thoughts. It's been a long time since he had a holder whose civilian life necessitated so many different masks. No wonder he eats so much Camembert to recharge - it's exhausting just watching it.

"What I'm saying, kitten...er, kid, is that your bug needs you. Paris needs you. And I know that because creation always needs destruction." He snorts a laugh. "That's a fact that's bigger than both of us."

"Yeah, you're right. I know you're right." Adrien sighs and stands to pull back the covers and turn out the light. He climbs in bed and heaves another sigh as his head hits the pillow. "I just wish she'd let me help her. I...I know she's going through something."

Plagg settles on the pillow next to Adrien's, in the Camembert-infused spot where he sleeps. "Being a guardian kind of sucks. It used to be a whole big thing - years of training and ceremonies and shaving your head in a weird pattern..."

Adrien breathes a laugh in the darkness.

"Did you just imagine your beloved bug with her pigtails cut off and a bald spot shaved into her head?"

"Plagg! How dare you?" comes the reply, but his laughter betrays him. Yeah, he's totally picturing it.

Plagg smiles. "What I mean is, you know her. As much as you can, at least. She's told you over and over how important you are to her. I hear all that mushy crap, you know. I don't think she means to hurt you." A pause. "If she does, she'll regret it," he mutters.

"Please don't threaten my future wife, Plagg."

"Still?"

"Still what?"

Plagg blinks. Adrien blinks, then finally catches up.

"Oh. Well." He takes a deep breath. "I'm...a little upset about some things. But I'm sure we can work it out. People make mistakes. Besides, just because someone hurts you doesn't mean you stop loving them, Plagg."

He wouldn't trade Adrien and his tender heart for the world, but sometimes Plagg wishes he was already a bit more jaded when he slipped the ring on his finger that first day. He doesn't want to witness the moment his holder's gentle spirit is finally crushed by what he knows better than most is a very cruel world.

For a long moment, Plagg considers his answer and finally chooses sarcasm. He shrugs. "You can always just cataclysm their prized possessions. That works, too."

That startles a laugh from his holder, tired and tinged with emotion, but a laugh nonetheless. Plagg considers it a win.

They settle into silence. Adrien's eyes close sleepily. Plagg considers getting another wedge of cheese now that his stomach has calmed down a little, but the thought that this is far from over makes his indigestion flare again. Love is messy and inconvenient, the Cancoillotte cheese of emotions. But, he supposes, looking at his holder in the dark, it's worth the difficulty.

Adrien's eyes open suddenly to meet Plagg's glowing green.

"Thanks for talking to me, buddy. I'm sorry I—"

Plagg zips over to his holder before he can finish the sentence, tucking his little body into the crook of Adrien's neck and starting up a loud purr.

"You're welcome. You owe me so much cheese."

Adrien laughs again, and Plagg purrs louder when he reaches up to scratch behind his tiny ears.

"Reblochon again?"

Plagg stifles a laugh at the fact that he has penance cheese for dealing with Adrien's feelings before realizing how sad it is that he...well, has penance cheese for dealing with Adrien's emotions. Someday, when his holder is on his own and out from under the tyrannical rule of his asshole father, Plagg has every intention of cataclysming Gabriel's entire atelier, including his tablet and any backup drives. He dreams about it sometimes. Just watching the world burn. It'll be beautiful.

He sighs wistfully before answering. "I was thinking Époisses."

Adrien groans. "Plagg, no. It's so gross."

"Plagg, yes. Feelings are gross. Cheese is life."

Another sigh. "Fine. I'll order it in the morning."

Silence falls over them again, this time comfortable and warm. When Adrien's breathing evens out, Plagg heads over to the cupboard for a snack. By the time he's eaten two more wedges of Camembert and thought about the whole situation, he's decided to pay Pigtails and his other half a visit. This can't continue. They're all headed for catastrophe, and no one wants to see what he'll do if this breaks his kitten.

He takes a wedge of cheese for the road and heads for the window, but something makes him stop before he phases through. He turns back to look at his sleeping holder. The moonlight shines through the windows, casting shadows like prison bars across the room, across the bed, across his kitten. Plagg thinks suddenly of Adrien waking up alone, his kwami nowhere to be found, and realizes he can't just leave.

He sighs. He's sighed so many times tonight.

Plagg tosses the cheese in the air and catches it expertly, swallowing it in one gulp, then makes his way back to the bed.

Tomorrow, he'll find a way to phase into Pigtails' bag during homeroom for a much-needed discussion with Tikki. He doesn't want to - he really doesn't want to - but Plagg intends to do his part to fix this. Holders like his come once in a very, very long lifetime. Adrien is worth it.

He settles again on his cheese-scented pillow and curls up, wrapping his tail snugly around his body. Soon his purr matches the rhythm of Adrien's quiet breathing, and peace, however temporary, falls gently over the two of them once more.

#adrien needs a hug #and some therapy #plagg to the rescue #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #plagg #ml spoilers #season 4 spoilers #optigami #optygami #ml fanfiction #ml fic #my writing #sadrien

[cyberloops]

Some quick studio updates:

My spouse was having a hard time at their new job, so when my boss mentioned that he was looking for another person to do the same sort of tech helpdesk work that I was doing, my spouse decided to go for the opportunity. On the one hand, it means less stress. On the other hand... less money. Our income is going to be cut by about 1/3. So we really need to find some way to work from home to earn money to make up for that. So this week, while my spouse had a few days off before the new job starts, we buckled down and worked on getting our home office/studio situation set up in a way that will work for us.

Originally we had planned on keeping all the computers in the office (not the room in the picture here) and dividing the studio (the room in this picture) into halves. The half now taken up by the giant desk on the left would be where I’d set up my studio, the area where the other 2 desks are would be a workbench for crafting type stuff, and the drafting table would be where it is. But between the plague causing us to switch jobs and work from home and everything else that’s happened... well... plans change. We couldn’t both work from home in the office, so my spouse had to get a desk and set it up in the studio. And the little corner desk my spouse had gotten for the office way far too small for all of the paperwork that their new job entailed. So we had to get the giant desk.

Since we’d like to get back into the habit of streaming, we decided that we needed to once again change the plans we had for our studio. But with less income, that meant no more buying furniture. We need to work with what we have. So the giant desk that takes up half the room will stay, and will become the graphics powerhouse of the studio, with my spouse’s new computer in the middle, a big monitor on the left, and the graphics tablet monitor on the right. Unfortunately the USB C port is on the left side of the computer and the right side of the graphics tablet... which means we need a longer USB C to USB C cable if we want to use all three monitors. (We can use an HDMI cable instead, but then we wouldn’t be able to use the other big monitor.)

I moved the smaller corner desk from the office into the space between my studio and my spouse’s, and got rid of the little wooden table that was kind of in my way on the right side of my studio. Now we have an entire wall of nothing but desk. The drafting table is still just out of camera view on the right, so my spouse still has a space for traditional drawing.

You can also see in this picture that I was able to finally rig up a top down view of my studio, the camcorder is attached to a little microphone handle instead of a stand. The little handle came with a different mic, the one that I’ve currently got hooked up to my desktop computer in the office. I’m using a boom mic stand that I had packed away that was a birthday present to me like fifteen years ago. (I’m glad it’s finally getting decent use, I used to have it set up next to my old Windows XP desktop computer that had an M-Audio 10/10 soundcard that had XLR inputs so I could actually record a microphone directly into the computer. But that desktop died about 9 years ago, and I haven’t used that stand since then. I don’t even think they have drivers for the 10/10 for modern versions of Windows anymore.) Ironically, the microphone that came with the boom mic stand is in a little tripod that came with a DIFFERENT mic that crapped out on me and I’m not using anymore, it’s somewhere on that desk studio setup. I don’t know if it’s in camera view, it’s not currently plugged into the mixer, but it’s there if I want to record any vocals. However, that setup means that the camera is also about six feet away from where the computer will be... which means we need a longer USB A to Micro USB cable if I want to stream.

... and after moving all that furniture, getting sweaty and gross, and stressing out my bad knees... I didn’t wanna go to Best Buy to get cables. So we ordered them online, and maybe once we’ve gotten them, we’ll be able to get back to streaming again.

Also, since my spouse got a new, better computer, I’m going to see if their old computer is powerful enough to do basic streaming with just my sound and video setup. It’s (I think) about 9 years old, just like my laptop... but mine was bottom of the line at the time of purchase, and this one was midrange. They have the same amount of RAM and hard drive space, but my spouse’s old computer has about 3 or 4 times the processing power of my dinky little old laptop. So maybe it can handle it. We’ll find out once I get that new cable. If not, well, we’ll see what I can do. Now that we’re past the first few weeks of classes, my job is slowing down a bit, so I’ll have a little more free time and energy. I’d really like to spend some time working on more fun, creative stuff. I suppose I could just say screw it and move my desktop into that room, that’s definitely powerful enough to stream. And if I don’t feel like doing music, I can work on 3d modeling/sculpting instead. Or, hell, I could even go back to doing game streaming when we’re not streaming art or music.

I would love to also get a better chair. Unfortunately, all of the comfortable chairs we have right now are too wide to work with that setup, unless I can figure out a way to move my keyboards to the right side of my studio instead of the left. Which honestly, I could probably do if I just got some longer cables. I went cheap and just got 3 and 4 foot audio and MIDI cables when I first set up the studio, since I was jammed in the corner there. So maybe my last investment in the studio will be to buy a couple of longer audio and MIDI cables just for those two synths.

... and after all that, months and months of setup, investing my pandemic bonus money into setting up the whole studio... I still am finding myself kinda obsessing over the fact that the ONE kind of synth I wanted and still don’t have is one that can do more than 2 operator FM synthesis. I was really debating between the Modal Skulpt or the Korg Volca FM at the time, and the Skulpt only won out for me because it had 4 note polyphony, and I like complex chords. But with our sudden cut in income, I really can’t justify buying another synth anytime soon. So I really should buckle down and work with what I have.

#home studio #music studio #art studio #dawless #streaming setup #music streaming #art streaming

[nonbinaryeye]

Mutual Curiosity is Foundation of Every Lasting Partnership

Written for @lonelyeyesweek

Day 5 - Gertrude Era

Peter Lukas is a really interesting person for a servant of the Lonely and James Wright would love to get to know him a bit better. Unfortunately his Archivist is there to interrupt their meeting a bit with very unreasonable complaints...

Read on AO3

…

“Mr Lukas, you are late.”

“I told you last time to feel free to start without me, Mr Wright.”

“I have. And I am done. All it needs is your signature. Unless you want to read through it of course…”

“Wonderful. At least I can be done here quickly.”

Even though at this point Peter Lukas could just scribble his signature and turn around he decides to sit on the chair opposite the current Head of the Magnus Institute: James Wright.

It is far from the first time James met Peter. They have been dealing together quite a lot. Rest of the Lukas family has probably realized Peter can tolerate James’ presence and so they have decided to use that fully. Surprisingly Peter does not seem to mind too much. Sure he complains about having to stop in London so often and about how uncomfortable he feels in the Institute or how hard it is to find office of the Head of the Institute but rarely about James himself which is… interesting.

James has dealt with lots of different Lukases during his lives and would dare to say he has always been able to pinpoint what they think about his current incarnation quite easily. Albeit it usually was ‘get rid of him as quickly as possible’ but that is not the point.

With Peter though, he has no idea what goes in his head during their interaction. He would love to just look and see for himself but with servant of the Lonely it is hard sometimes to see in their minds. And unfortunately for James even though Peter is still relatively young, he already has quite a strong bond with the Forsaken. Overall on a first look he speaks and appears as every other Lukas, doing his best to appear as distant as possible but his actions do not always match as sometimes it is Peter initiating further conversation instead of doing his best to avoid it.

“I am surprised you have a normal pen. From the look of this place I would expect I will have to sign it with a quill.”

“I am glad you appreciate the well preserved historical artefacts around the Institute. Do you know there really were only minor changes made in the office since the first founder Jonah Magnus?  It really is as if his presence was still there…”

“Are you just trying to suggest you need more money for the renovations, James?” As always, a subtle hint seems to go right over Peter’s head.

“I was not but when you are mentioning it… there are a few changes I would love to make given I would have enough finances for that.”

“Did we not agree on raising the budget on our last meeting?”

“We did? I cannot really recall…” Caught up in their conversation, James would almost not notice he is about to have another visitor quite soon. And she looks quite angry. “Hold that thought. As much as I would love to continue in our discussion I think you would probably prefer to disappear right now,” James, feeling merciful today, decides to warn his guest who looks at him confused.

“Why-…” Peter starts but then he hears clapping of heels quickly approaching the office and freezes in terror. He regains his senses and disappears to the Lonely just in time, right before Gertrude Robinson barges in.

“James,” Gertrude greets him coldly.

“Gertrude, pleasure to see you. What brings you to my office?” Head of the institute smiles at his Archivist.

 “Elias Bouchard.”

Of course. Of course it is him again… James tries not to sigh and keep his best helpful smile intact.

“What about him?”

“He was distracting one of my assistants again-…”

“Maybe he was just trying to help him?”

“And because he thought I was not there he decided it is alright to smoke there. Now the whole Archives smell like weed.”

“Well… at least he was mindful towards you? As you said – he would not do it in your presence...”

“And documentation on Michael Shelley’s desk caught on fire from his joint. I don’t think files for case 9790916 are salvageable” Gertrude’s voice remains cold but there is a sign of malice. Of course there is. She knows how important case files – the real ones – are for him. She raises her eyebrows waiting to see if James will come up with an excuse for this one too but honestly he is at a loss here.

“How… unfortunate.” The smile remains on the face of the Head of the Institute but he is clenching his fists under the table. He would start planning Elias’ murder by now if it was not planned already.

“I want to see some real consequences for him, James.” The fate of Elias Bouchard will be cruel enough but it all needs its time and James still needs at least a year to prepare everything.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“I want him fired.”

“Ah, isn’t it a bit rushed? Everyone can make a mistake sometimes…”

“Do I need to remind you of all the ‘mistakes’ he has done till now? I’ve actually made a list if you want to look over them,” Archivist offers because of course she has.

“No need to. I will make sure further incidents will not happen,” Head of the Institute says. Tone of his voice implies he is done with this discussion. Gertrude probably does not notice.

“I have my doubts.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

Gertrude glances at him coldly. James reciprocates the stare. They stay like that for a couple of seconds, both of them refusing to be the first one to cut off the eye contact. This silly match could easily last minutes as it has happened in the past but this time they are all interrupted rather early into their unspoken fight by a couple of books falling on their side. As if something – or someone – bumped into the shelf the books are on…

They both turn towards the noise at the same time. James, knowing what exactly caused the mysterious event, focuses his attention back on Gertrude. She is staring right in the Peter’s direction, frowning. She doesn’t say anything but this is still quite interesting… as it is not exactly easy even for him to see through the thick fog of the Lonely.

“Anyhow do you need anything else?” As interesting it would be to test his Archivist’s abilities, he already has different plans with Peter today.

“Yes actually,” Gertrude turns back to him and hands him a file James has not even noticed till now, preoccupied worrying about the Archives. “When I had to climb all the way up here I also brought you a suggested budget for my research trip to India.”

“I will look over it and we can further discuss it tomorrow?”

“I have quite a mess in the Archives because of your assistant. I don’t think I will have time. Maybe you should just approve it as it is,” for the first time since she has entered the room Gertrude smiles at him. James is already worried about what all she wants.

“I will see. Now is that all?”

“Yes that is all.”

“Have a good day then,” James waves his hand towards the door hoping this really is the end of their discussion and the Archivist seems to finally be satisfied as well. She gives him a nod instead of words of goodbye and finally decides to leave him alone. Well, alone till Peter re-emerges from the Lonely. It takes him a few minutes as he probably wants to be really sure Gertrude is nowhere near.

“I don’t like your Archivist.”

“Why I wonder…” James opens the file with Gertrude’s requests. No TNT, no gun powder, no heavy weaponry. That is almost suspicious. Though it still looks like quite an expensive business trip due to travel and accommodation expenses… There surely must be some other hotels than four star ones.

“Though at least you seem to have troubles with her as well…” Peter lurks over his shoulder on the very list of her requests regarding her next work trip. James quickly closes it as he does not want Peter to think he just lets his Archivist just demand and do whatever she wants.

“That is none of your business, Peter.”

“I think it is since it will be money from my family covering her vacation.”

“We will negotiate about it further.” He is sure he can persuade her to degrade her first class seat to a business class seat at least… Yes, Gertrude is hard to deal with sometimes but so far his longest surviving Archivist. She is very effective in what she does and unfortunately she knows it.

James wonders whether Peter will become just another one victim on Gertrude's rampage to stop every ritual. He told him nothing concrete of course but it seems like it will take at least a few more years before he attempts to do something to bring The One Alone here. Maybe he will be smart enough to disappear in time, he hates any kind of social interactions after all… On the other hand Gertrude is Gertrude…

“What was actually your assistant even doing in the Archives?” his Lonely guest interrupts his chain of thoughts with a question.

“I was afraid he would mess up my system here… so I sent him to help there. Apparently I will really have to find him some work he cannot mess up too badly…”

Peter raises an eyebrow but stops himself from inquiring further.

“I have my reasons why I keep him employed. Do you want to hear them?”

“No. Not really,” Peter shrugs as he probably already used up the entire curiosity limit Lonely allows. Which works just fine for James. He plans to switch bodies in only a year or two and he would hate to spoil the surprise for Peter. It will be much more fun if Peter does not know anything.  James is quite fond of the man. And how else can he find out for sure that the servant of the Lonely cares for him at least than to see how he will react to his death.

Ah well no matter what the future will bring why not rather enjoy the present for a bit. And talking about enjoying the present…

 “Now weren’t you mentioning something about lunch before we were so rudely interrupted?”

“No I don’t actually think so.”

“Maybe you were about to invite me to go have one with you?”

“Still doesn’t ring a bell.” Peter might try to look clueless but twitching of the corners of his mouth gives him away.

“Peter!”

“Alright, alright, you are always so demanding... Do you know some place which is not very crowded?”

“Of course I do. If the price is not an issue…”

Peter only sighs and hands James his coat. He has been so far really quite entertaining company for someone dedicated to Forsaken. Also he is handsome and that is something James can appreciate in a man. He can really see some long term partnership between them. He really hopes Gertrude spares him when the time comes.

#It's almost more Gertrude and James argueing than lonelyeyes #Minor og Elias Bouchard / Michael Shelley reference #tma #tma fanfic #magnus archives fanfic #james wright #peter lukas #gertrude robinson #gertrude era archives #lonelyeyes #peterjames #lonelyeyesweek #lonelyeyesweek2021 #mEye fanfic #mEye post

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

Lightning in a Bottle | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: None :)

Time/Era: Modern AU

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Music is Edmund’s love language, apparently. 

Request: Hey! Could you possibly do a cute high school au with Edmund? Maybe they’re both crushing on each other and everyone knows except themselves, anything you wanna do really haha 😂 thanksss :)

A/N: Thanks for the request!!  God, I love Edmund so much. And here, we have indie boi Ed. This oneshot is inspired by  Electric Love by Børns. (Specifically, the video linked) This is one of my favorite songs, and I thought it fit the indie-main-character-high-school vibe :) I didn’t really nail the “everyone knows but them” thing, but still crushes! Enjoy ~

masterlist | here is a playlist of the songs in the mixtape mentioned | read on ao3

Edmund Pevensie was obsessed with listening to music, particularly with old musical technology. While it wasn’t uncommon to have a fascination with cassette tapes or vinyl records, it hit a special chord within Edmund’s heart. Something about listening to music, old and new, on the outdated tech made the music sound better, hit harder, and stick in his mind better. He was the type of guy who took the AUX on long car rides to play one of his thousand Spotify playlists. 

Another notable thing about Edmund was that he was very intelligent with very high standards for himself. He was a natural at academics, having been in advanced classes since he was young, and he was the guy everyone hated in math class. After dozing off in class, and mouthing off to the teacher every now and again, he still came out as the teacher’s favorite and a straight-A student. 

The majority of the time, though, he tended to keep to himself. While he was genuinely liked by his peers and was rather charming, he didn’t really consider anyone his friend. Unlike his older brother, Peter, he liked to remain closer to the shadows with earbuds in his ears. He knew he could never fill his brother’s shoes; Peter had basically come into Cair Paravel High School to be captain of the soccer team. He was so good that even though his grades were subpar at best, he received a full-ride scholarship to Archenland University to study sports medicine and play on their soccer team. 

Then there was his older sister, Susan, who won her Student Body President campaign by a landslide. Everyone liked Susan; she was patient, gentle, and got along with pretty much everyone. She too got a pretty large scholarship to Beruna State College and is double majoring in child education and European history. 

Finally, there was Edmund’s little sister, Lucy. She was only a freshman at Cair Paravel, and very into student council. Edmund thought she was practically made to be an ASB kid; she was excited, friendly, and much too kind. Lucy made the switch to high school seamlessly and had a big group of friends by the time the final bell rang on the first day. 

Edmund was a senior now and he couldn’t wait to get out of high school. The people were unintelligent, he was constantly compared to his siblings and he was ready to start his life. Edmund had high ambitions to become a lawyer, specifically criminal law. He didn’t really have much to leave behind at this school, so he was just trying to get through it as soon as possible.

One thing he would miss was the quiet girl that sat behind him in his music appreciation class. Edmund didn’t really want to take the class, but at the last minute, he discovered he needed to fulfill an arts credit to graduate. He appreciated music and liked easy classes, so he chose this one. Little did he know it was mostly analyzing classical pieces. 

Y/N was super cute in Edmund’s eyes. She always mumbled sarcastic comments whenever their easily excitable teacher, Mr. Tumnus, would stretch when over-analyzing a stanza of music. By the time October passed, Edmund had grown quite fond of the girl. She almost always was reading a comic book of some sort instead of paying attention in class. Y/N even ended up lending Edmund a few for his viewing pleasures; he always made sure to return them in the exact condition he received them. Batman seemed to Y/N’s favorite. 

Y/N loved watching Edmund write. He held his pencil wrong and always had ink smudged all over his hand. Maybe it was because he was a leftie, or maybe it was because he wrote too fast. Probably a little bit of both. His handwriting was also weirdly slanted to the right, which didn’t make any sense to Y/N. He was left-handed but his letters slanted to the right? Not the mention how half of it was in cursive and half of it was in print. It was definitely messy but, oddly enough, still intelligible. 

“What are you listening to?” Y/N asked Edmund. “Better not be Christmas music. Christmas was last month.”

Edmund pulled an earbud out of his left ear and turned so he was sitting horizontally in his chair. He leaned an arm on the top of her desk and grinned. “Currently, I’m listening to Can I Call You Tonight? By Dayglow. What are you reading?” 

“Currently, I’m reading Volume 1 of The New Teen Titans,” Y/N copied Edmund. “I’ve never heard of Dayglow, are they good?” 

Edmund smiled, offering her his earbuds. “Listen and see for yourself.” 

As she listened Edmund searched her face for any clue to what she’s thinking. Her face housed a small smile so he concluded that she enjoyed it. Once the song ended, she took out one of his earbuds and placed it on her desk. 

“I like it,” She concluded, listening to the next song. 

“Good, so do I. It fits my mood for today.”

“What’s got you so happy today? You have a great way of showing happiness, by the way.” Edmund was dressed in all black with his hood up. Edmund rolled his eyes. 

“What I can’t be in a good mood?” 

“I never said that, Pevensie. You just look very Edmund-y today.” Y/N pulled the other earbud out of her head and held them out to him.

“No, keep listening. I’ll play some music for you throughout class and maybe you can tell me what you think at the end?” He pulled his hood off of his head and smoothed out his hair. “And what do you mean Edmund-y?”

“I don’t know, all black, hood up, dead look in your eyes.” 

“I don’t have a dead look in my eyes!” Y/N giggled at her own joke. “Just for that, I’m going to take this.” He snatched the open comic book that laid open on her desk. 

For the remainder of the class, Edmund dictated what Y/N listened to from his phone. He played everything from The Beatles, to The 1975, to COIN, to Duran Duran. Every now and then, Edmund would peek his head back to see her eyes glued to the back of his head. Her body swayed to the music almost lazily, and a smile graced her features. For some reason that made his stomach feel fuzzy. 

She returned his earbuds at the end of class, and he returned her comic. 

“That was fun,” Y/N complimented, shoving her materials into her bag. “I like the get better song you played.”

“I Wanna Get Better by Bleachers,” Edmund corrected her as they left the classroom. Music Appreciation was the class of the day for them, seeing as they were seniors who left at lunch, so the two started making their way towards the parking lot. 

“You have to meet your sister right?” Y/N asks, pulling out her I.D. so she could leave campus. “The really sweet freshman girl? Honestly, you two are so different I wouldn’t have guessed you were siblings.” 

“Oh, Lucy, yeah. We grab lunch every Thursday before I drop her back off for the remainder of her classes.” The two showed their I.D.’s to the campus aid and walked into the parking lot. 

“That’s sweet. We should grab lunch sometime, or something. It could be fun! We could do our analysis questions about Bach.” Y/N started to walk in the opposite direction and Edmund felt his cheeks warm. Luckily, Y/N’s back was now towards him. 

“Yeah, sure. Don Giovanni, right?” 

Y/N’s laughter could be heard as she grew further away. “That’s Motzart, Pevensie!”

Edmund shook his head and met Lucy. She was leaning against his car looking bored. 

“Who was that? Is that your girlfriend?” Lucy asks, opening the door once Edmund unlocks the car. This made his cheeks flush more. 

“No, she’s just the girl that sits behind me in Tumnus,” Edmund puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine. 

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not, Lucy. It’s just hot in the car, it’s been sitting out here for ages.”

~

 One day in the middle of March when Y/N walked into Music Appreciation, she noticed a small rectangle box on her desk. Upon opening it, she found a cassette and a note. The note looked as if it was typed using a typewriter. 

Y/N,

I’m not very good when it comes to words, but I’m good when it comes to music. Hopefully, this says it all. Enjoy, my love. 

Side A //

Electric Love / Børns

I Love You So / The Walters

Fallingforyou / The 1975

Your Song /  Elton John

Someone To You / BANNERS

Side B //

Babe, Can I Call? / The Hunna

Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy) / The 1975

Luv, Hold Me Down / Drowners

love somebody like you / joan

TV Dream / Larkins

Y/N didn’t recognize most of the songs, but just reading the titles made her blush. 

“Mr. Tumnus? Did you happen to see who left this on my desk?” She held up the cassette so he could see. He shook his head. 

“No, sorry.”

Other students started to trickle in and soon the bell rang, no trace of Edmund. It wasn’t uncommon for him to skip this class, it was basically pointless, but it made Y/N sad every time he wasn’t there. 

The door swings open and a drenched Edmund steps into the classroom. Without even looking up, Mr. Tumnus addresses him. 

“You’re late again, Mr. Pevensie.”

“Sorry, I got stuck behind a group of Sophmore girls who wouldn’t move.”

“In the rain?” Mr. Tumnus raised an eyebrow.

“No, if it was in the rain I would be wet right now, sir.”

He plopped into his seat and started raking his hands through his wet hair. His cheeks were slightly rosey, as were his nose. His lips were pinker than usual and they stayed slightly parted. Hair stuck to his forehead as he ran his fingers ran through it and the hair on the nape of his neck dripped down his back. Y/N had to stop herself from staring at him with her jaw unhinged. 

“What’s that?” He whispered, noticing the open present on Y/N’s desk. He had taken up sitting horizontal in his chair at all times so he could more easily talk to Y/N. 

“It’s a mixtape. It was left on my desk when I got here,” Y/N responded and handed him the note. Edmund took it and began to read; his eyes scanned the paper and his lips moved slightly as he read. Y/N couldn’t help her this time, so she allowed herself to stare. His lips were always so pink and so puffy. She fantasized about how soft they must be. 

“Wow, looks like someone really likes you,” He comments, placing the paper back on her desk. “Do you have a cassette player?”

Y/N didn’t even consider that. Who the hell has a cassette player in the year 2020? Apparently, her answer was evident on her face, and Edmund chuckles. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a walkman and a pair of earbuds. 

“Here, you can have mine. I got a new one last month and I don’t really use this one as much.”

Oh, Edmund has a cassette player in the year 2020. 

Y/N smiled, taking the player from his hand. “Thanks, Ed.”

“Wouldn’t want you to miss out on those songs. Whoever made that has good taste, you’re lucky.” 

~

When Y/N got home tonight, she took out her walkman. It sat easily in her palm, just big enough for the cassette to fit inside. On the bottom, “E.P.” was scratched into the plastic. She smiled and put her mixtape inside. 

As she listened, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Edmund. They had grown much closer in the past few months, even going lengths to hang out outside of school. Y/N learned that not only was Edmund extremely intelligent, but he was the funniest person Y/N had ever met. He always had a sarcastic comeback or joke to offer her, no matter the subject. He had also let many of his walls down, letting Y/N get to know him better. It all felt so comfortable and natural. No longer was he just the cute guy from Music Appreciation, but he was the pain in the ass that Y/N had fallen for. And Y/N had fallen hard. 

Against her first impression of the mixtape, Y/N had actually heard all of these songs. After the first day in January, Edmund had lent her his earbuds near-daily and she would listen to whatever he played for her. Her eyes widened. 

Why would Edmund carry around a cassette player he didn’t use? And to school for that matter? And the note; it was typed because Edmund had such distinct handwriting! Y/N rewound the cassette and listened to it again. Why didn’t she realize in the moment?

~

“Hello, Y/N,” Edmund greeted in the parking lot the morning, he happened to park next to Y/N. He gripped the coffee in his hand and got his backpack in the trunk. “How are you on this fine morning?”

“Tired, I stayed up, like, half the night listening to that cassette I got yesterday.” Y/N slung her own backpack over her shoulder. He closed his trunk and locked his car. 

“Yeah? And what did you think?” The two started walking towards the building. 

“I thought that the songs all sounded oddly familiar.”

Edmund took a long sip of his coffee. “Like you’ve heard them before?” 

“Mmhm,” Y/N hummed and walked onto campus. She held one of the straps of her backpack as she walked. “Almost as if this dumbass guy I know played them for me a while back,” Y/N’s voice was teasing and light. 

“Yeah? Who is this guy?” Y/N stopped walking and looked up at Edmund. 

“Thanks for the mixtape, Ed.” 

“Whaaaat...just because this guy has great taste in love songs doesn’t mean it was me. I’m flattered though, really,” Edmund took another long sip of his coffee. 

“Oh, what a pity. I actually got excited when I figured out it was you. Considering normal people don’t just carry cassette players in their backpacks. Especially not ones they don’t use anymore.” Y/N’s voice was thick with sarcasm. 

“Excited?”

“Yeah. I’ve kinda liked that Edmund guy for a while, but he doesn’t like me back so…”  

“You like me back?” Edmund was grinning from ear to ear. 

“Yes, babe, I like you back. I have since October since I started letting you borrow my comics,”

Edmund placed his coffee on a bench and pulled Y/N closer to him by the hips. 

“October, huh?” Y/N smiled bashfully at Edmund’s tone but nodded. 

“What? You’re cute, I couldn’t help myself. Plus, now you make me cute mixtapes.”

Edmund leans down and places his lips against hers. They were just as soft as she had imagined. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers quickly finding the hairs at the nape of his neck. He pulls away and leans his forehead against hers. 

“Be my girlfriend, then?”

“You nerd,” Y/N took a small step forwards and pecked his lips again. “I would love to.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie fanfiction #king edmund the just #king edmund #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #modern au #fluff #c.s. lewis #c. s. lewis #skandar keynes #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction

[googlyeyephone]

Chapter 3

I opened my eyes to see tall, white grass surrounding me. I looked around and saw a gate with a beautiful city behind it. I lifted myself up, looking down at myself. I was wearing a white cloth dress. The kind you see in murals at a church or renaissance paintings. I walked towards the gate, the cloth dragging behind me. Standing at the front of the gate, I pondered my actions. With a loud clang, the gate opened. I stood there with no care in the world. I walked past the gates to a building with a path guarded by walls. The building was smaller, looking like a welcome center. It had a few steps leading to a normal sized door. I opened the door. There was a longer, round desk sitting by the wall with a being sitting behind it. They were tall and skinny with an awkward frame that gave him a feeling of remembrance but he didn’t know why. They looked too big for the desk. I went into the building, seeing a bunch of beings sitting along the walls. I walked up to the desk.

“Hello?” I said quietly, feeling timid.

“Hello,” the being said in a welcoming tone but not looking up from their computer, “sorry. I’m writing an important email so that’s why I’m not looking at you.”

“Ok,” I mumbled.

“What’s your name?” they said, sending the email and switching to a different, more official looking website.

“What?” I asked.

“Your name?” they said, their scroll wheel making a familiar sound.

“I’m not sure,” I said honestly.

“I’m sure you can remember your name. The transition isn’t that-”

Their sentence cut off with a gasp when they looked at me, a sense of dread upon their face. They frantically made a phone call, their voice in a hushed but frantic tone. They hung up the phone and seconds later, a gust of wind and sparkles hit me. Next to the desk was a more feminine being. They had a beautiful off-white dress on with a matching pair of low heels. They had an articulate wand in their hand. Their ears were long and pointed, curving in the middle. They had short, puffy, white hair and pure white skin. They had a very prominent hourglass frame and plump lips. Their eyes had no pupils as well.

“Is this them?” they said to the taller being.

“Yes,” they said, nodding rapidly.

They turned to me.

“Hi. I’m Ophelia. You will be coming with me,” they said, holding their hand out.

I took their hand and with a gust of sparkles, we were out of the building and in a different building. This one looked magnificent. It had beautiful arches and paintings across the walls and amazingly tall ceilings. It led to large and decorated doors that went from the floor to the ceiling and had no handles. The paintings were in various colors but no dark colors, red, orange, or black.  There were arches lining the ceiling with articulate designs in a magnificent gold hue. 

“Come with me,” Ophelia said, still holding my hand.

They led me to the giant doors. Holding the wand in their free hand, they inserted it into a wand-shaped mold. The doors made a giant woosh noise as they opened. The wand disappeared, dissolving into thin air with very light pink smoke and shimmers. As we waited for the door to open, they led me to the middle of the hall. The doors opened all the way and we headed inside. There were gigantic books floating around the room. They had magical designs and glowed all different colors unlike regular books. There were paintings on the walls but they seemed to serve more of a purpose, tell more of a story than the other paintings I saw.

 Sitting in the middle of the room was a beautiful woman with long, curly hair. Her dark hair flowed down to her mid-back. She was sitting on a white chair with a holographic screen in front of her. And she was tall. Like, 40 feet tall. I felt small.

“Excuse me, my god,” Ophelia spoke up, once we were closer to her.

“Ophelia. How lovely to see you,” the woman said, dismissing her screen.

“You as well, my god,” they said smiling.

“Who is your little friend you have with you?” she asked.

“Well that’s why we’re here,” they said.

“Who is she?” I asked Ophelia.

“This is God,” Ophelia answered.

“Don’t new spirits know who I am usually?” God asked, not hurt nor happy.

“Well, that’s the thing. They’re not a spirit. It’s rare for this to happen but we think their soul travelled here while in a coma on the mortal realm,” Ophelia explained.

“Oh stars,” God said.

“That’s what I was thinking as well, my god,” Ophelia said, “we asked them for their name and they don't even remember that.”

“Let me look for them in the mortal directory,” God said, pulling up her screen.

Suddenly, from a little door on the same wall as the big door, came a being with curly black hair and pale white skin like Ophelia. They were wearing a white clown-looking costume with three fuzzy, large, black “buttons” going down the front of his suit. They gasped.

“Ophelia! Oh! And a new friend!” they said, jumping and floating down next to us.

“Hey Atlas. We have a mortal here who’s body is in a coma in the mortal realm and soul is here,” Ophelia said, “we found them at the welcome center after Luther called.”

“He couldn’t scan their face and look them up?” Atlas said.

“I mean, no. They don’t have certain features, like their irises and pupils,” Ophelia said.

“Well God can do it, like she is now,” Atlas said to me, “and you’re with Ophelia! She’s great at figuring things out.”

“Atlas, stop,” she said, blushing.

They giggled.

“Oh!” Ophelia said turning to me, “this is Atlas. He’s God’s jester.”

“What’s a jester?” I asked quietly.

“It’s basically someone who is a friend to the Greats,” Atlas said.

“Who are the Greats?” I asked.

“There’s God, Father Time, Mother Earth, and Satan,” Ophelia said.

Before we could continue, God had finished her search.

“I found him,” she said, “come here, my child.”

She reached down a hand and I stepped onto it. She lifted me up and put me on one of the arm rests, where I could see her screen. There was a picture on the screen of someone with blondish-orange hair and a small but very happy smile. Next to it, there was a ton of information. Birthday, likes, dislikes, etc. 

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“That’s you my child. You just don’t remember. You look so different. Your hair is lighter with gray streaks and your face is weary, sunken in, and tired. Even though you always have bags under your eyes and you’re fairly thin, you look different. Soulless.”

I studied the pictures. They seemed so familiar. I knew it was me but I couldn’t feel that it was me. I couldn’t remember it was me. I felt tears roll down my cheeks.

“My child, what is wrong?” God asked, worried.

“I can’t remember any of this,” I said, feeling a pit in my stomach and my breathing getting choppy.

“Your name is Leo Holt-Morley. You have two loving and caring dads, a sister who would protect you at all means, and, well, your brother. You have a boyfriend named Austin and so many loving friends,” she said, lifting my chin gently with her finger, “you have Tourette’s as well as an anxiety disorder. You love to play video games and read books. You are such a smart individual, my child. All of the things that make you you have been taken away.”

I felt a spark in my mind. A feeling of remembrance. I just couldn’t grasp it. She flipped the screen to someone’s view in the mortal realm. It was two men. One with black, smooth hair and palish skin trying to comfort the other man who had blondish-brown curly hair and slightly tanner skin. The brunette was trying not to cry and failing while the blonde was a mess, letting out every single tear.

“Those are your fathers. They’re upset because of your current state in the mortal realm,” God said.

I felt my heart squeeze and tears spilling out of my eyes.

“Why am I feeling like this?” I asked.

“Your friends are upset as well,” God said as she switched views.

People around his age were all expressing their feelings in different ways: crying, shutting people out, being alone.

“Your most happy and loved memories,” she said, swiping through memories where joy and love were the most prominent emotions.

Instead of a pit in his stomach and a tight feeling in his chest, he felt like his body was going to explode in movement and he felt his heart swell with joy.

“And your last memory,” she said as she swiped to the next screen.

This time it seemed to be in my view. And there seemed to be a tense feeling in the air. Voices rose and yelling began. It got louder until I heard my voice yell to the girl driving. There was a flash of light and then nothing.

Then, it came back to me. The dam of forgetting broke and memories flooded in. I held my head in my hands and fell to my knees, folding into myself. It felt like my head was going to explode and I was going to throw up at the same time. The memories came back in the order God had told me. My name, my dads, Olivia and Jackson, Austin, my friends, my Tourette’s and my anxiety, my hobbies, and the crash. The argument we had.

After it had all settled, I sat up.

“Are you ok, my child?” God said. 

“I can’t see,” I said.

She laughed softly and summoned my exact glasses. I slid them on, blinking and adjusting. 

“Wait,” I said, my flinch tic making itself present

“Yes, my child?” God said, looking at me.

“Where is Austin? And Jackson and Olivia?” I asked.

“They’re in comas as well,” she said. 

“So, they’re- pew- in heaven as well?” I asked hopefully.

“Well, there’s something I’ve been waiting to tell you,” Ophelia spoke up, “there’s only been a couple hundred cases of a soul leaving a mortal body and coming to a realm. But if the same thing happens to four people at once they get split up into the four different realms.”

“Do they all lose their memories- pew- and stuff like I did?” I questioned.

She jumped up to the arm rest followed by Atlas.

“From what I found in my studies of this, only the one who goes to heaven does because they actually have a chance of getting their memories restored. That’s the pattern I saw. Every recorded case of four mortals being split up among the realms, only the one in heaven lost their memory. No one knows why. But I need you to know something Leo,” she said, grabbing my hands, “the split among the realms doesn’t mean anything. What matters the most about this piece of information is that you tell the person who went to the hell realm that it means nothing that they went down there. And yes, the person who comes to heaven is usually the nicest among the four but it does not matter where the other three goes.”

“Ok. H- wow~- how do I find them?” I asked.

“Well, you would need to go to each realm and try to speak to the Great of that realm,” Ophelia said.

“But,” I flinched again, “I don’t know how to get there. I don’t know- wow~- anything about these realms.”

God spoke up.

“I think I may know someone.”

#ocs #oc story #original writing #original story #road trip to the afterlife #lgbtq #lgbt characters #lgbt

[therainroguefanfiction]

☁ Drifting Away (Giotto) #02

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Previous

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

☁  Primo ✗ Curiosity ✗ Confusion  ☁

“Boss – !” One of his men called, rushing into the office to make sure his precious boss had been left unharmed. “Should we go after them?”

The blonde shook his head, standing up from the leather chair. “No. I’ll handle it myself.”

“But – “

Before the man could protest, the blonde swept out of the office with the intent of looking for you. His cloak billowed behind him as he exited the building. The fact that you knew who he was, knew about the Vongola Famiglia… weren’t you just a teenager who had gotten lost? Why did your eyes widen in disbelief when you realized who he was? And why did you feel the need to run? Giotto surely had no intention of hurting you.

He wanted to know who you were and exactly what you knew. He had to find you.

Italy was a large place, but he doubted you could get too far on foot. Giotto didn’t know what it was, but his instinct was telling him that he had to find you. He was sure his men wouldn’t be too gentle if they were to search for you, as they proved in his office, and there was no point in involving his guardians when he could handle something so small by himself.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You gasped for breath, leaning on a nearby stone wall for support; you were never very good with running. You were far too lazy for it despite being someone who had been trained so harshly under Reborn. If he could see you now, he’d probably shake his head, kick you in the rear and walk off.

‘What the hell is happening? It could have been Lambo’s 10-Year Bazooka, he’s always messing around with that thing, but…’ Doubt washed over you. The Bovino Family’s 10-Year-Bazooka switches whoever is hit with their self ten years in the future but you were clearly in the past. “Damn Lambo. Damn Giannini.” you huffed, glaring at the ground, “I’ll kill both of ’em.”

You had no proof that Giannini had upgraded the Bazooka and, in turn, screwed it up again – who could forget what happened to Gokudera?. And sure, you had no proof that Lambo had actually hit you with the thing, effectively sending you back in time – you didn’t remember being hit with it but it may have happened while you were asleep, but… what other explanation was there?

When Shouichi Irie brought Tsuna and the others to the future, the Bazooka was originally used to get them there. ‘Course, he used that damned machine of his after that, but the Bazooka was the original object used to get them there. Had someone gotten ahold of the device? No, that simply wasn’t possible. The Shouichi of your era was still just a kid and the future incident had been solved long ago, thanks to Yuni and Tsuna. She had given her life to make sure nothing like that ever happened again.

You were all alone.

No Tsuna. No Reborn. No Gokudera. No Yamamoto. No one.

Something suddenly dawned on you. The unfamiliar sights, the language you couldn’t understand… Giotto was Italian and his family lived in Italy… If he was here, then that meant…

“I’m in Italy!?” you exclaimed, bashing your head against the brick wall you had previously been leaning on. You fell backward onto the stone-cold pavement with a groan, your hand flying to your aching head. You closed your eyes to try and reduce the pain, “At least I know this isn’t a dream…”

Dreams didn’t physically hurt, right?

“It’s finally happened!” you exclaimed to the darkening sky. The sun had already halfway set, turning the sky a soft orange with strokes of purple. “Being around all these Italian Mafioso every day has finally destroyed what little sanity I had left! I’ve gone nuts!”

A chuckle reached your ears. “I believe it, the way you’re talkin’ to yourself!” you blinked up at the man that now stood over you, his feet at your head. “You alright, kid?” he held his hand out for you to take, and you hesitated before allowing him to pull you back up onto your feet. Whether it was the headache or the sudden rush of being pulled to your feet that made you stagger, you couldn’t be sure. It was probably a mix of both.

The man standing before you oddly resembled Iemitsu Sawada, Tsuna’s dad, with his blonde hair and friendly smile, welcoming attitude, and strong build, but.. wasn’t the Primo Tsuna’s great great great grandfather? The only difference was that this man didn’t have a beard and his eyes were a deep forest green with specks of brown. They also held a childish glint.

He held his hand out, a large smile on his face. “Italo Sawako.”

Well, the name was sort of the same. A distance cousin of Giotto’s, maybe?

“Er…” your hand was engulfed by his large, calloused hand. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, do you have a place to stay?”

“Not… really…”

“You can stay with me, then!” he grinned, grabbing your wrist and tugging you along. “By the way, how old are you, kid?”

“Eighteen,” you responded after muttering a ‘not really born yet’ under your breath.

“What’s an eighteen-year-old doing out here, alone, at night, with no place to stay?” he wondered.

You stared at the man’s suit covered back as your mind began to drift off. This was all just too weird, nothing made any sense to you. You had seen a lot of crazy-ass shit since you had met Reborn, but this definitely takes the cake. This was just downright ridiculous!

Italo glanced over his shoulder as you finally entered a large building where you assumed is where he lived. You were so out of it that you didn’t realize where the man had taken you until it was too late.

“There they are!”

“Ahh, shit,” you muttered, seeing the familiar black-clad men from earlier.

That’s when it finally clicked in your head. This man was obviously a member of the Vongola, especially if he somehow had ties to Iemitsu or Giotto. Damn it, your perfected ‘not-paying-attention-to-your-surroundings’ skill has screwed you over once again.

And so, you found yourself back in the Primo’s office, sitting on the leather couch situated in front of his desk. Italo was standing by the arm of the couch, on your left. His men were positioned outside the door, just in case you tried to run again.

“Tell me who you are.” It was a demand that left Giotto’s lips, but his tone was so soft and kind it almost didn’t sound like one.

“Errr…” What were you supposed to say? “I’m… affiliated with the Mafia.” Oh, that could work.

“Which family?”

“Vongola,” ‘Shit!’ you bit your lip, slamming your head against a mental wall. It had been an automatic response due to your pride and love of the family. It came out before you could stop it.

His eyes shifted to your bottom lip, which you were currently chewing on, before returning to your eyes. You refused to meet his piercing gaze.

“Really? I’ve never seen you around before, kid!” Italo grinned, looking down at you and setting his large hand on your shoulder, “You’re not Italian, either.”

“No. I’m half American, half Japanese,” you muttered under your breath, staring off to the side where a bookcase sat, taking up a little more than half of the wall.

Despite how low your voice had been, the Primo still managed to catch the words you uttered. “Italo,” he called, gaining the attention of the other blonde. His eyes never left your form as he spoke, “Can you excuse us?”

“Ah, sure thing, boss!” Italo grinned wider, patting your shoulder before leaving the room. Silence followed his departure and you found yourself reading the spines of the books to take your mind off of the crazy situation. You also made a mental note to kill Reborn if you ever managed to make it back home. You squirmed uncomfortably under his piercing gaze. It was like he could see right through you, like he was reading a book.

You honestly hated that look. It felt as if he could even read your thoughts and that annoyed you to no end. Giotto took in every breath you took and every move that you made – he was searching for something. If he did manage to figure out what was going through your head, you had no clue what fate would await you.

‘I am truly screwed,’

“You seem anxious,” he observed, “You said you were affiliated with the Mafia. In what way?”

You went to respond, prepared to use your ‘quick-lie’ talent, but he cut you off, his expression softening.

“You do not have to lie to me. It’s okay to tell me the truth.”

That tone… he acted as if he was talking to a mere child which, to him, you kind of were, but that’s beside the point. You scowled, biting your tongue to keep in the smart remark that wanted to run free, “You won’t believe me.”

“We will not know that until you tell me.”

You bit down on your lip once more, hard enough to draw blood. Your eyes stared down at the Vongola ring on your finger. Something that looked like recognition flashed through his eyes but disappeared seconds later, as if it was never there to begin with. How could you explain this without sounding like a total nut job? Your fists clenched tightly around your jeans, “I… I’m not… from this era.”

“Oh?” he leaned back in his chair, hands folded and one leg crossed over the other, “Explain.”

“I’m… from the future…” Why not try the truth? Who knows, maybe it will work out.

“The future?” His monotone voice never changed, making it harder for you to understand what the man was feeling or thinking.

“Yeah. I woke up and found myself in this era,” you stood up, walking over to the bookcase and running your hand across the spines. You could feel his eyes boring into your back and it made you uncomfortable. “I don’t know how or why I got sent to the past but I do know I’m going to kill that damned cow when I get back.” Your hand clenched into a fist and you huffed in announce.

Then realization hit you. Hard.

You had been there for well over five minutes. You weren’t returning to your era. Would you ever be able to get back? Your heart clenched at the thought of never seeing Reborn or Tsuna again.

Two hands landed on your shoulders, a wave of calm shooting through your body from the contact. “You’re very stressed out. I’ll put you up in a room for the night, and we can finish this discussion tomorrow after you’ve gotten some rest.”

“Sure…” you muttered, realizing just how tired both your mind and body were. Who knew being sent to the past would be so tiring? You couldn’t stop the questions that swirled around in your brain, though.

Would you ever get back to your own time period? Would you ever see Reborn and Tsuna again? Or would you be stuck in the past forever? What would become of you? Did Tsuna and the others even realize you were gone?

“Relax,” he whispered in your ear, his breath fanning over your neck. His hands slid down your arms, encircling your waist as darkness took over your mind. The feeling of being picked up was the last thing you registered before your mind completely shut down.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

▸Next

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

#drifting away #giotto #vongola primo #katekyo hitman reborn #khr #anime #writing #creative writing #writeblr #scenario #scenarios #anime scenarios #anime scenario #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #anime fanfic #anime fanfics #reader insert #reader-insert #reader #series

[kingsuckjin]

Drive

>Pairing: virgin/sub/office co-worker Namjoon x reader

>Genre: coworker au, smut

>Warnings: uhhhh Joon  is a bit subby, he’s a virgin, public sex/ car sex, fingering (f receiving) reader is a dom, kinda soft, corruption kink

>Rating: 18+ (for smut)

>Synopsis: You get fired and expect it to be a lot worse of a day then it actually is. your friend the IT guy at the office comes to your rescue.

> Words: 3.5k

Authors note: hello, drunk Moon here! I wrote this because it was requested by @bresilienne-ami I’m so sorry it took forever to do, lovely. Don’t give any credit to sober Moon because she doesn’t deserve it. Also I didn't make a banner for this I’m sorry

“I’m sorry but your subpar work just isn’t cutting it, we’re letting you go. Please gather your things and vacate the premises.” 

That’s what he said. Your boss sat there in his fancy chair, not giving a fuck, seeming proud of himself for his words. He didn’t care that you worked your ass off for the past few years at this job praying all your work paid off in the form of a raise or a promotion just for him to call you a different name the handful of times he ever acknowledged your existence. He didn’t care that you didn’t know how to find a new job on such a short term, he didn’t even give you two weeks’ notice. He probably didn’t even care that because of this you might have to move back in with your parents for a while. You felt like you had failed, but you were more than heartbroken as you stormed through the maze of cubicles towards your own where your desk was, clutching the box that your boss had handed you with somewhat of a smile, you were pissed. The silent stares you knew that you were getting only angered you more, you felt like a circus clown like they wanted a good show. You felt like screaming at them “what are you looking at?!” but then again maybe they pitied you. You probably had mascara running down your tear-soaked cheeks, they probably knew what had happened from the way you were acting.

It didn’t matter, you just wanted out of there, and the looks and silence from them only made you rethink even taking the time to get your things at all. 

You held the box against the side of your desk as you carelessly raked your things into it with teary, blurred vision.you had worked so hard just to toss years worth of being here into a box.

You felt so alone, no one had said a word to you, your mind raced with pain and anger as you took your filled box and began to quickly race towards the elevator. You saw that elevator as the light at the end of this nightmare tunnel, it would shield you from the staring, from the gawking, from the pity. You did your best to hold back the wall of sobs that were threatening to break forth and bring you to your knees as you thought about how someone could be so cold and just fire you as if you weren’t even a person.

In it the midst of your thought and rushing, you could feel your foot catch on something, next thing you were sent falling forward. The bottom of the box fell through and you and your things went crashing to the floor.

You wanted to just lay there, to just give up and hope you melted and soaked into the floor so you could just get away as fast as you could from this embarrassing situation.

“Here” someone muttered. You had been engrossed in your self-pity and stares from the others you hadn’t even realized the one and the only person you ever counted on was here to rescue you.

You pushed yourself off the floor as he concentrated on taking the box on the floor gathering your things and putting them back inside, carefully holding the now broken bottom so they all didn’t fall through. You looked at the man as he pushed his round glasses up onto his face and stood. He took the box under one of his arms and outreached the other arm to you to help you up, which you graciously took.

“Let me walk you to your car, okay?”  he announced more so than asked, he was already heading towards the elevator with your things leaving you to run along behind him to catch up.

You had spent so many lunches with this man, he was the only real not standoffish one here, the only one that was easy to talk to and get along with. Maybe because it was because he was young like you, or maybe because he was an outcast at this place like you. Kim Namjoon worked in IT, he was shy, stuttered when nervous combined with his little habit of pushing his glasses upon his face. He was a bit of a nerd, or that’s what people said around the office, but you had always seen him as nothing more than a friend. 

As you were accompanied out the doors of the building and into the parking lot, you were still holding back the tears that were threatening to spill. The walk to your car was silent, but he seemed to stall with the box in his hand as you stopped next to your car.

“I’m- I’m so sorry.” Namjoon's eyebrows furrowed and his voice took on a tone that dripped with guilt and pity for you.

“It’s alright,” you said weakly as you took the box from him, careful to hold the button as he had. “I’m uh-” your voice broke and shook just a bit making you clear your throat and avoid eye contact with the man whom you had spent a lot of lunches with, the man who had just witnessed your near meltdown over being fired.

“For what it’s worth, he’s probably going to fire me too, he never liked either of us. Jokes on him though, I have another job lined up already, better paying too. Hey! I could put in a good word for you! I bet they’d have a spot open, it’s run by an old friend, and I bet I could-”

“Ah Joonie, you don’t have to do that.” you wondered how bad he had felt for you to offer this.

“I know, but what would lunch be without my lunch friend? If I’m switching jobs you might as well come with me, you know? I can give my friend a call tonight. You’re a good and dedicated worker and I’m sure he won’t say no.”

“Really?” you felt your tears and emotions subside for a moment and make way for a little excitement and relief.

“Of course.” he gave a little chuckle as he looked down at the pavement of the parking lot “You did tolerate being friends with the office nerd for the past few years, it’s the least I could do.” 

“I never once thought you were a nerd Joonie, they were all just dicks.” you smiled at his smile from your honesty.

“Hey, uh, listen…” he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose once again and ran a hand through his hair. “If you’re not doing anything tonight maybe… would- would you want to- go out for dinner? You know? As a celebration dinner for not- not having to put up with that dictator anymore.” he thumbed towards the building behind him “Y-you don’t have to, it’s-”

The more he went on the more he seemed to stutter and that let you know he was nervous.

“Yeah actually, let’s do that. You still have my number, right?”

He gave you a dimpled smile as he nodded.

“Is eight okay? You want to pick me up?” you asked as you shoved the box haphazardly into your back seat. 

“Y-yeah, okay. I’ll text you,” he assured you.

You opened the driver’s side door but paused a moment before taking the few steps back over to him and planting a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thanks for making all of this a lot better Joon.” 

You didn’t need to turn back around and see his face to know he wore such a cute flustered look, you had seen it before when casually flirting with him, you had always adored it, as a matter of fact, you more than adored it. He was always so shy and quiet and to be honest that was your thing, you often found yourself daydreaming about what he’d be like in bed. Would he let you take control over him? Would he switch into someone more aggressive? Tonight you were determined to find out, you had a bad enough day and decided that the dick of the gentlemanly coworker you had been thirsting after for years might make it all so much better.

He picked you up right at eight, still in his crisp white work shirt and black slacks, freshly off work. His car had the same smell like him. He made small talk the entire drive but you found yourself staring at your knight in shining armor. You liked how the lights from the street poured into the dark car occasionally and lit his smooth skin and glittered off those glasses that seemed too big for his face. You itched to touch him, you felt like you were wasting time already, you decided to test the waters, so when he was mid-sentence you placed a hand just above his knee. He paused a moment and you knew if he was about to reject you or if he asked you to move your hand, you would and simply just have a normal friend dinner with him then you would gladly do that instead, you did like spending time with him after all and you knew he wasn’t the kind of person to hold something like a little crush against you forever.

He didn’t stop you though, he didn’t move your hand, he just ignored it and continued about how he knew the guy who would hopefully soon be your new boss and how cool he was.

You honestly didn’t know where to go from there, dinner was casual, it was sweet, he took you to a nice steak house and paid, saying that you were “currently jobless” in a joking way. You had had so many lunches with him in the break room, you had eaten together before, but this time it felt so different. He seemed to stare more, stutter more, push up his glasses more and that was a sure sign of nervousness. You tried to join in on the conversation and not seem too boring in hopes he would want to do this again with you one day, but you honestly couldn’t get the thought of completely dominating him out of your head. 

You didn’t make another move though, you were too worried he was just too shy or afraid to tell you not to. On your way home, just as you were figuring you were probably better off as friends any way he asked a strange question. 

“Can we pull over and talk? I-I’d like to talk a little if that’s- that’s  alright?” 

“Of course, I’m in no rush to get home.” you replied knowing that this was it, he was about to give you the “we’re only friends” talk.

He said nothing else until he parked in a back empty parking lot of a store that had closed down months ago. Then he turned the car off, and simply just sat there a moment. 

You wondered if you should ask what he wanted to talk about or start apologizing for your inappropriate behavior on the way to dinner when he finally turned to you, not making eye contact.

“I-I-I…” he stopped a moment and sighed, seeming a little aggravated at his stuttering “I wish I didn’t do that.” he then muttered. “I have something to tell you.”

“Okay.” you urged listening closely.

“I’m bad at this whole thing.” he gave a short sad laugh, more like a short breath than anything “I’m a virgin… is why.” he stared out the windshield as he spoke, seeming regretful once he did it.

“Hm,” you said and gave a little shrug and that’s when he looked at you again, inspecting your nonchalant reaction.

“You probably guessed that, right?” he let his forehead fall on the steering wheel and closed his eyes “why am I so dumb and obvious?” he seemed to ask himself.

“I guessed that you liked it rough in bed, like a lady in the streets but a freak in the bed, you know?” 

He lifted his head and looked at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“First of all, did you just quote an Usher song after I told you I was a virgin? Secondly, I am not whatever you thought I was.” his laugh was more of an amused one this time.

“I did. I did quote Usher. What do you say we find out though how you are in bed, right here, right now? I mean I’m not a virgin, but I’m a car sex virgin so it would be like we’re taking each other’s virginities.” you joked.

His eyes nearly went as wide as his mouth had fallen.

“N-n-now? Here? In my car?”

“Sure” you shrugged “Unless you’re opposed to it.” you shrugged once again.

His reply was a rapid shake of his head.

“Good,” you replied as you made your way over the center console that separated the both of you until your knees sat on both sides of his lap, straddling it. 

You now face to face and he looked you in the eye but seemed so speechless. You didn’t need to hear him stutter to know that he was nervous, his quick breaths were the only noise in the quiet car.

You connected your lips to his and the result was a slow but passionate kiss, no tongue, nothing too fancy. 

When you pulled your head back away from him you decided to ask to make sure this was what he wanted.

“Are you sure you want this?” You didn’t have to wait long for your whispered question to be answered.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this. Turns out you- you weren’t the- the only one who has imagined what the other would be like in bed.” you watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed down his nervous stuttering “do what you want, how you want it. S-show me what you like”

With his confirmation you reached down to the side of his seat, letting it fall back until he was lying horizontally.

“Let’s have some fun then Joon.” you leaned down over him hiking up your best dress so that your thighs were freer and your purposefully worn sexiest panties were exposed and could grind against his dress pants and hardening bulge in them.

When your lips met with his they were more hungry and less gentle than the first time. Your tongue found his and encouraged it to play with yours.

He seemed less and less nervous as time went by, even placing his hands on your ass and squeezing in rhythm with your still clothed but damp core grinding into his erection under his dress pants. You undoubtedly needed more though, you craved to fluster him more, you wanted him to feel what he was doing to you, how he was absolutely wrecking you without doing anything at all.

“Touch me.” you pried your lips from his to demand.

“I-I- I’ve done that part before but I-I-” you lifted his hand and guided it to tour soaked panties and he began to touch you through the material, letting his fighters over where your clit lie underneath the sticky material.

“So good, you’re doing so good.” you moaned just desperate for his touch to the point where you would take anything from him. He sucked in a breath at your praise. 

“Like that? What if I…” he slipped his hand down the front of your panties, pulling them down just enough to reach inside and once again run his fingers over your slit, but this time with nothing separating you from his touch.

“Do you feel how wet I am for you? I want you so badly.” you took hold of his wrist and guided his fingers until they were inside of you.

“Fuck.” he breathed a shaky breath. “So tight.” 

You bounced a little on his two fingers taking them inside of you.

“Tell me that you dreamed of me taking your cock.” you moaned as you imagined it yourself.

“I have. I have for so long. Please fuck me.” he seemed so desperate and a tingle ran through you at how much you enjoyed the sound of him being so needy for you.

“Beg me Namjoon. Beg me to be the first to take your cock, show me how much you want me.” 

“Please please please, please. Be my first, I want it, I want you,” he whispered sweetly and still breathlessly.

“Pull down your pants.” You ordered. his fingers left your pussy you couldn’t help but see the slick sheen of them as he fumbled with his pants. You leaned over into your seat and took the condom in your bag out that you had put there in hopes this all went well.

You opened the wrapper and rolled the latex down over his now exposed cock he had been slightly stroking. You were impressed with his size, he was hiding something pretty big in those dress pants all those years, maybe if you would have known all of this you would have offered to fuck him sooner, but you tried not to dwell on all of that, you just wanted to feel his cock fill you. 

Your hips hovered over him, ready to take him at any second. 

“Wait, we’re in p-public we could get in-”

“Trouble? You want to back out of this now?” you questioned with a raise of an eyebrow.

“No, no, no. I’m doing this.” he was determined, he reached for his glasses to take them off, but you stopped him.

“Leave them, I want you to see my face clearly when I cum for you, on your cock buried inside of me.” with that you lowered yourself down onto him. You didn’t take it too slowly when you finally had him entirely inside of you, you began to rock your hips right away, leaving him moaning and gripping your hips tightly with every movement. 

It was bliss to finally have him in you, to be wrecking him underneath you like this, to hear him cursing with sensitivity under his hard, quick breaths.

You were leaning in so far forward to sporadically kiss him and bite at his lips roughly, that your clit rubbed against his pubic bone with every movement. 

“You like that Joonie? You like the way you feel inside of this pussy?” You teased.

“Fuck.” he repeated among groans of pleasure with his eyes shut. “What-what id I accidentally-”

“It’s alright, it’s your first time, but try to hang in there and let me play with you just a little longer.” you coached, but you were already riding him so fast, just seconds from your orgasm, you were so out of breath and all you wanted was to let him feel you cum around him. You wanted to ruin him for life, and from the fucked out expression on his face you seemed to be doing your job. 

The nerdy guy from work was balls deep inside of you and you could feel his cock twitching and hard, ready to release any second and finally give you what you had been daydreaming of for so many years. 

His normally neat hair was a mess and his glasses were askew as his fingers dug further into your skin.

“Namjoon I’m so close.” you panted as you forced your hips to move faster. His jaw was viably clenched as he viably also struggled to hang on. 

He slammed his hips up into you in time and that was what did it.

You gripped his white dress shirt and he let out a long moan. His cock twitching as you felt him release into the condom dragged out your high. You could only watch his furrowed brows as he seemed to hold your hips in place as he came.

Then you were left staring at each other, heavy breathed and not saying anything for a moment

“Y-you know, even if I wasn’t a virgin, that would have p-probably sill been the best sex of my life.” 

You let out a laugh as you climbed off of him and back into your seat, pulling down your dress as you did so.

“Yeah, I have to admit you weren’t too bad, especially for someone who’s never done that before. You have drive and dedication… I guess I should’ve seen that coming since you show that in your job.” you talked through him pulling off the condom, wrapping it in a napkin, and tossing it.

“At least you think so, I was fired today too. Jokes on him though, we both have new jobs now anyway.” he smiled and you let your surprise show on your face “I told you earlier but you didn’t seem to be listening, now I know where your mind was.” he said, making you laugh.

“And that’s where my mind will be from now on, we should do this more since we’re still coworkers, our little secret, yeah?” 

“As if I’d say no to the best sex of my life again.” he started the car and pushed his glasses back up.

“Still the only sex of your life, but I’m kind of glad it’s the only so you think it’s the best.” you snorted with laughter at your own statement.

“Like I said, even if it wasn’t my only and there were so many more before you, I swear it would still be the best.” he gave you a smile. you knew it was cheesy but it was still cute.

#sub!namjoon #sub namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon au #kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon smut #namjoon fluff #bts #ksmutclub #bts fanfic #namjoon one shot #namjoon x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts oneshot #namjoon x reader smut

[sunshinesholland]

the one (and all the others) [3] | t.h.

pairing: tom holland x reader

word count: 5.1k

summary: You may have a party to attend tonight, but Zendaya is onto Tom and as your best friend and roommate, there’s absolutely no way she won’t be meddling. If everything turns out okay, you suppose you have her and someone named Camden to thank.

warnings: swearing, angst/pining, mention of shitty past relationships

Tom is over at yours and Zendaya’s hanging out, a few hours before the party at Laura’s. All three of you are involved in the arts somehow, so the topic of your work comes up a lot in conversation. Tom is currently in the process of auditioning for a reboot of a 90’s sitcom, one that you and Zendaya watched growing up. Naturally, the three of you have found yourselves discussing the topic of childhood and nostalgia.

“Okay, what about ‘Fresh Prince’? I’d say it’s in my top three shows.” 

“Obviously amazing. I’ve watched it a lot but I’m not so sure about the boy from across the pond,” Zendaya replies to you but pokes fun at Tom.

“Hey, I’ve heard of it! It has Will Smith, man’s a legend.”

“Heard of it is not the same as watching it,” you reply with a smile, “very lucky for you, I have the complete collection.” You pat both Tom and Zendaya on their legs before getting up to grab the collection of DVDs.

Tom finds himself staring after you when you leave, lost in his thoughts. He can hear you shuffling around things, looking for it in your messy room. You’d been studying for midterms all week and in the process your room had become collateral damage. He can hear you swearing from inside your room, likely at that stack of books you have piled haphazardly being knocked over in your searching process. 

He’s smiling like an idiot, because he just can’t help but think of all these little quirks you have. He hasn’t been in your room in a week or so, as you’ve both been busy. This is the first time hanging out properly in a while, but even then, he can imagine exactly what your room looks like. You likely have an almost empty cup of coffee on your desk, with a swallow of coffee left in it, chapstick left on the rim. He can imagine your glasses, likely sitting outside of their case and on your bed, or tucked between pages of notes. Your favorite pen is likely lying in an obvious place but when you go to look for it later you’ll completely forget where it is. You likely have hair ties scattered around your desk and bed, because you can never decide between your hair up or down when you’re concentrating. You tell Tom: ‘up means business and I need to focus, but it also gives me a headache, so I end up switching between the two’. Which makes no sense to him, but then again he’s never had to deal with the issue. 

He knows all of these things because too often he’s sitting in that room right with you, watching you do all these things. Except when he’s there, you opt to study on your bed, so you can sit beside each other. More often than not you’ll end up falling asleep with your nose in a textbook and what a sight it is. Sometimes you’ll fall asleep on his chest, reading a book for your literature class. Now he’s really smiling like an idiot, because he’s thinking about the way your eyebrows scrunch up when you sleep, and the way you mumble when you dream.

“Just go.” Zendaya says, eyes unmoving from her phone and the Instagram scrolling she’s partaking in.

“Excuse me?”

“Go,” she motions to your room, “with her, somewhere. Instead of the party. But since I’m giving you an out for tonight, just tell her how you feel already, please. We’re all rooting for you but it’s taking forever and the pining is getting annoying.”

“Well I just- wait, we?” Tom asks, because Zendaya knows everything so that’s to be expected. But more people than just her know?

“Yeah, me, Jacob, Gwen, Harrison, George, Jake, Harry, Sam—“

“That’s enough,” he mutters, burying his face in his hands, embarrassed.

You come out with two different sets in hand, “Okay so I know I said ‘Fresh Prince’ but I found ‘Clueless’ and I thought maybe we could do both-”

“Actually, Tom actually just told me you guys already have plans for tonight, starting now.” Zendaya stands up and puts her phone in her back pocket.

“Plans? But we have the party tonight, not that I’m not excited to spend time with you, of course.” You reply, smiling but confused. You place the DVD and box-set down on the coffee table.

“Why didn’t you tell me you made plans for us?”

Zendaya hides a smirk as she looks at Tom along with you, waiting to see what lie he can make up.

“Uh...Because it’s a surprise?” He nervously glances over at Zendaya as you look at him attentively. Zendaya gives him a look as if to say ‘you’re on your own’, so he continues. 

“I know how um, stressed you’ve been with midterms and, well, you said last week you want to go ice skating before winter ends so—“

“Oh, Tom, you didn’t!” You’re grinning from ear to ear and walk over to wrap your arms around his neck while his wrap around your middle.

Zendaya has a smirk on her face, while Tom looks at her from over your shoulder. It was unbelievably quick (and good) thinking on his part and she’s honestly impressed. 

You unwrap yourself from Tom to turn to Zendaya. She quickly returns her expression to neutral as to not give anything away. 

“You sure it’s okay? I know you were upset when I cancelled for a date,” your voice is guilty, and Tom just instantly wants to reassure you despite it not being his place. 

Zendaya reassures you first, “No, it’s okay. Honestly, Laura will be throwing another party next week anyways. This is more important than some party.”

You’re not sure what she means by that, how ice skating is more important when she made such a big deal out of ditching before. But she smiles at you and she’s got a soft look in her eyes while looking at you two. What that look means and why she’s doing it, you don’t know either.

——

You practically jump out of the car as Tom pulls up to the venue. It’s no Rockefeller Square or Wollman Rink, but instead smaller and in a little park around a mile or two from your apartment complex. It’s quiet and there’s fairy lights strung up in the trees. The rink is enough to fit around 100 people but there’s only a few young couples and one small family on the rink. 

“Are you coming?” You grin back at Tom as you race toward the skate rental booth.

“Yeah.”

When you finally get your skates, Tom sits down to put his on, while you opt for doing things the hard way and put them on standing. Though you cheat a little by using Tom’s shoulder to steady yourself as you take off your shoe and attempt to place your foot into the skate. 

“You gotta do everything the hard way, Y/N?” 

“Absolutely.” You grin, before stumbling when your foot misses the mark. 

Tom catches you by your waist, unintentionally pulling you down. You can’t help but feel a little breathless, practically straddling Tom. Aside from cuddling while watching movies or when falling asleep together you don’t really have a lot of physical contact. Well, there is the hugging, just because Tom is a hugger. Along with the hand holding, sometimes for reassurance and sometimes just for closeness. Then there is the hair stroking when either of you is upset or falling asleep in the other’s lap. Okay, so maybe there is a lot of touching, but this just feels different, you admit to yourself. 

Tom has a flush to his cheeks but doesn’t make an attempt to move you. You pause for a moment and if anyone asks, it’s just to regain your balance. You crawl off of Tom and instead sit beside him. 

“Okay, I guess I’ll do it the lame way.” You joke, voice unsteady. 

Tom chuckles half heartedly. Being that close to you, even if accidentally, has him thinking of what he has to do tonight. He knows there’s no way Zendaya will let him get away with not telling you tonight and he has no doubt she will tell you if he doesn’t. But he’s worried about what will happen when he does. You don’t acknowledge what happened and what if that means you don’t feel the same anymore? So the confession will just be one-sided and awkward? Or, worse what if you’re over it, but saying how he feels just opens up old wounds, and you hate him? He would rather have a little bit of you than all of you, even if it hurts him to keep it inside. A happy ending isn’t even on his radar, he’s just worrying about all of the ways he could lose you.

You finish tying up your skates and look over at Tom.

“Okay, I want to go skating sometime tonight and you haven’t even finished lacing up. Do you need me to tie your skates or something?” You tease. 

Tom shakes himself out his bemused state, looking up at you. 

“No, it’s okay, just give me a second..” he replies softly. 

“Okay, I’m going to go in, meet me in there?” You smile back at him, earning a nod from Tom before you make your way into the rink. 

Tom watches as you slowly skate around the rink, hands out at your sides catching the wind as you skate, nose and cheeks pinking up from the cold night air. You even let yourself glide for a moment with your eyes closed once you’re away from everyone else on the rink. Tom can’t help but think of how peaceful and content you look. His thoughts are again led back to the upcoming confession and how disastrous the outcome could be. But he allows himself to hope for a moment, that everything will be okay. That it will maybe even be better than it is now. 

Of course you are both happy now as friends and friendship is valuable. But he’s tired of seeing you being hurt, of your resolve to find true love slowly wearing down no matter how hard you try to keep it up. Tom knows there is no one that loves you more than him. He knows he can love you properly, because he already does. For all your faults, for all your quirks, he loves you with everything he has. He cannot imagine a life without you but he also cannot imagine going on loving you in silence like this. All he wants is to love you deeply, fully and openly. The kind of love you both deserve, and the kind of love he hopes you return for him. 

So Tom finishes lacing his skates and gets up to join you on the ice. He stands near the entrance, holding onto the rail until you skate over to him.

“Didn’t wanna skate over to me?” You ask, smiling and coming to a stop in front of Tom.

“I brought you skating because you like it. I never said I was any good at it.” Tom gives you a nervous smile, which you laugh at. 

“I appreciate that and because you’re so sweet, I promise to not let you fall.” You reply and offer him your arm to grab onto. 

Tom decides to be bold and instead reaches for your hand to take in his. While you’ve held hands in the past, it feels more intimate this time to both of you. Neither of you thought to bring gloves and there’s something a little romantic about getting your hands freezing cold just so you can touch someone. Tom finds himself wondering when he got so sappy, because all he can think of is while you promise to not let him fall, he’s just thinking how he promises to not let you fall. He’ll always be there to catch you, even if you don’t want him the same way he wants you he’ll stay.

You look down at your hand in his and then up at him with a smile, “Let’s go.”

Tom is practically dragging alongside you, holding out his free hand in an attempt to increase stability. You’re giggling at him and the way he looks like a newborn deer skidding along the ice.

“You’re not very graceful are you? I would think a dancer would be better at this.” You tease him, before he grips your hand tightly.

“Usually I’m dancing on a floor, not ice. And you can’t even dance, so I don’t want to hear anything.” He replies, focused very hard on not falling.

He’s right, you’re awful at dancing. No matter how many late night dance sessions Tom has attempted with you, you’re never very good or graceful. Doesn’t make a difference when you’re drunk or sober, you’re shit at dancing in every state. Theatre/acting major/dancer boy never hesitates to tease you about it, so really you walked into that one.

Before you can retaliate with a remark of your own, Tom’s falling and in an attempt to help, you fall with him. You both land with a thud and Tom on top of you. He’s sure the few people present are staring at the two of you. Tom feels really bad, but the instant reaction is to laugh at how clumsy he is. He looks down at you, expecting a smile or a (badly disguised) expression of annoyance. Instead you’re silent with tears welling up in your eyes. 

“Whoa, why are you crying? Are you okay?”

“My wrist.”

Tom looks down to see your wrist bent awkwardly between the two of you.

“Shit!”

He scrambles to get off of you and help you up, grabbing your uninjured wrist to pull you up. 

“I’m so, so, so sorry.”

“S’okay, you didn’t do it on purpose.” Your voice comes out choked up and Tom can’t help but feel his own throat close up. 

Tonight is supposed to be lovely and romantic and Tom’s gone and quite possibly broken your wrist.

The family that’s skating comes over to the two of you, while Tom holds your shoulders and you clutch your injured wrist.

“Hey, I saw that fall, are you alright?” The mother asks. She has such kind eyes and a caring expression you aren’t surprised when she says, “I’m a nurse, would you like me to look at it?” She motions to your wrist.

Tom looks down at you to see what you’d like to do, since it’s your wrist and at this point he’s willing to do whatever you want, he feels so guilty. 

“Um, sure. I don’t really want to spend several hours in the emergency room anyways.” You put on a weak smile, tears spilling over your cheeks.

When you exit the rink, you sit at the picnic table nearby with the mother of the family, who’s name you learn is Carol. You’re lucky she’s so prepared, since she had a first-aid kit in the car, she says she can never be too careful with a young daughter who plays rough. Her daughter sits nearby, quiet. She must be around five, you think. Tom and Carol’s husband are chatting with each other while they return skates to the booth.

“Sorry to ruin your family’s night.” You apologize, assuming them putting their skates away and calling it a night is a result of you falling and this kind woman offering to help.

“Oh no, you definitely didn’t. Camden was getting cold anyways, we were going to head back soon regardless.” She smiles kindly at you, before lifting your wrist. 

“I’m just sorry your date got ruined, not a very fun way to end it. Hopefully not a first date though, right?” Carol asks, while examining your wrist. She asks you to move your fingers and wrist a certain way.

You’re used to friends and peers asking whether you’re together, but it feels different when someone older than you does. This stranger is asking you, and she’s likely older and wiser and she’s maternal and for some reason it means you can’t help but confess.

“We’re not dating,” you blurt out, “I mean I love him, but we’re not dating.”

She pauses and looks at you, “Oh... I’m sorry I just thought…” 

A little voice speaks up, “If you love him, why aren’t you boyfriend-girlfriend?” The little girl, Camden, asks.

“Camden, that’s not polite.” Her mother scolds.

But it’s innocent, she’s just a young girl and maybe it’s just as confusing to her as it is to you.

“No, it’s okay,” you reply, and look at Camden, “Uh, we’re not together because he doesn’t feel the same way about me. I love him as a friend too, and that’s enough for me.”

“Mommy and daddy love each other and they’re not friends, that would be silly. So you can’t love him if you’re not together.” 

“Camden…” Her mother uses a warning tone.

“It’s okay,” you smile, “it is silly. I want to be with him, but he doesn’t. Just because I love him doesn’t mean we get to be together. But I don’t stop loving him because he doesn’t love me, I love him on my own. That means even though he doesn’t feel the same, my feelings don’t change. Does that make sense?”

Camden doesn’t respond verbally, but just nods her head.

“Sorry, she hasn’t developed a filter yet.” Carol apologizes as she wraps an Ace bandage around your wrist. She does it gently but applies enough pressure that it dulls some of the pain.

The pain of unrequited love in your chest is still present though and no bandage will fix that.

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“I want you to rest it for 48 hours and ice it. You can take ibuprofen for the pain and swelling. Keep an eye on it, and if it doesn’t get any better after those two days, you need to go to urgent care.”

Tom comes walking back with Camden’s father. 

“So, am I destined to wait on you hand and foot forever since I broke yours?” Tom jokes, despite a very obvious worried expression on his face.

“Not broken, probably just a sprain. But keep an eye on her and that wrist, okay?” The mom replies, and you’re thankful she says nothing else to Tom.

“Thank god.” He smiles down at you, pulling you up into a hug and kissing the top of your head.

“That’s sweet, how long have--” The husband starts, but the wife elbows him in the ribs.

“Well, it’s almost Camden’s bedtime, so we’d better get going.” Carol says, in an attempt to cover up her husband’s words.

Tom smiles, finding it a little odd but he’s just thankful you’re okay, “Thank you so much for taking care of her.” He looks down at you.

Camden walks over to the two of you before either of her parents can stop her. You think her mother likely looks as mortified as you do when the words come out of her mouth.

She tugs at Tom’s jacket, “If people love each other, they should be together.” Camden says.

Her mom laughs nervously, picking her up in her arms. “Crazy kid, watches too many princess movies.”

“Nuh-uh! I like Lion King more than princess movies!” She replies in protest.

Carol and her husband give you both a smile before saying goodbye as they walk into their car to leave, but only after Carol reminds you to ice your wrist.

“That was kind of weird.” You nervously laugh, hoping he thinks the five-year-old was just saying random things like kids do.

“Maybe, but she is right.” Tom replies.

You don’t say anything, but you couldn’t agree more.

----

Tom follows you into your apartment, holding your bag and coat he insisted on carrying for you. You flick on the light switch, the apartment dark and quiet since Zendaya is at the party.

“I’m sorry that tonight didn’t go very well.” Tom says, placing your bag on the counter.

“It’s pretty on brand for us. We’re both clumsy so it’s like any normal night.” You smile at Tom before walking into the kitchen. “Like, remember that time I broke your nose while playing Wii tennis?” 

“Yeah, before that big audition? The one Z had to pull several strings to get for me?” He teases.

You laugh at his reply, remembering how awful you felt, despite him accidentally dropping a bag of groceries on your foot the week prior. With your good hand, grab the kettle off of the stove to fill it.

 “You want some tea?” You ask, placing the kettle on the stove before opening the cupboard.

“Always.” Tom replies, quietly.

He figures there’s no time as good as any. He slowly works up the courage to confess what he’s been feeling for so long and didn’t have the nerve to tell you that night, all those months ago. The thought that is always going through his mind when he’s with you, but even more so when he’s away from you. Being away from you only makes those feelings stronger, and that’s how he knows it’s real. It’s unrelenting and ever-present, even without a visual reminder of you. 

He takes a step to you, wanting to hold your hand, or cup your face, or hug you while he confesses, but you turn around abruptly.

“Hey, remind me again why I’m the injured one and I’m the one making you tea?” You joke. 

Tom decides to just do it, because if he doesn’t now, he’ll never do it. He’ll make excuses and nothing will ever change. He grabs your hands, gentle with your injured wrist.

“This is not making tea, Holland, this is holding my hands.” 

“I’m with you. No matter what else you have in your head, I’m with you and I love you.”

“I love you too, Tom” you reply casually, assuming he means platonically, removing your hands from his to grab two mugs out of the cupboard.

“Wait, was that Ernest Hemmingway?” You question, turning back around to look at him, “You’re letting that English minor get to your head. Just say ‘love you’ like a normal friend.”

“No, I love you. I love you with everything I have, with all that I am, and I’m stupid for not telling you that night. I loved you before that and I love you now and I will continue to love you, even if you don’t feel the same…. That’s Tom Holland, a little less poetic than Hemmingway, but they’re my words.” He says.

Your eyes have closed somewhere along the confession and your expression is blank. Tom just wants to see your gorgeous eyes and try to decipher what’s going on in your mind. He would prefer you confess your love back to him, but at this point he would be okay with annoyance, he’s just scared now.

“Y/N, please just look at me while I confess, after that you can look wherever you want,” his voice is strained.

You keep your eyes closed while you mumble, so incoherently Tom has to ask you to repeat yourself. 

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

He should have known this question would come. There’s not a day that goes by where he doesn’t kick himself for not saying it then and there. 

He should reassure you that he’s felt this way, that it’s not just some passing thing, but he’s selfish and instead asks, “I’m telling you now, do you not love me anymore?”

He waits for your response to his question, but it never comes.

“Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it,” is what you say instead, rather than answering his question.

“You know I mean it,” he swallows deeply, moving just a tiny bit closer to you, wishing he could grab your hands in his again, “Not only am I deeply in love with you, but you’re my best friend and that’s why I was so scared to tell you. I didn’t-- I still don’t want to lose you.” 

You would think this is your dream but it feels so overwhelming and rather than feel happy or even relieved, you’re filled with doubt and you’re scared. The instinct is to push him away, so neither of you can get hurt. It was better when your love was unrequited, it was less scary, you weren’t relying on someone else to catch you. Tom’s here, offering to do that and for some reason that caring hurts more than the rest of your past.

You let your eyes meet his, “Why do you think I’m on the tenth ‘the one’ this year, Tom? You’re my best friend you should know better than anyone what rotten luck I have,” your voice unsteady, “I keep going on first dates because no one wants me past that! You’d be smart to follow their lead.”

Tom walks closer to you, taking your wrist in his hand, gentle but demanding of your attention.

“I’ve seen it all, every heartbreak, every tear shed, but I’ve also seen every smile and laugh and every time you have fallen for someone, and I have loved you through all of it. This isn’t a one date and done thing,” he is gentle in his tone, trying to coax you away from dismissing his feelings as false. 

“Y/N, Daya just called me out on my bullshit earlier today, telling me everyone sees how I feel about you,” he states, “which is a bit embarrassing for me, because I thought I was being really inconspicuous but that’s besides the point,” he rambles.

“What is the point, Tom?”

“The point is that I love you. I love you the way you have been talking about and dreaming about and looking for the whole time that I’ve known you. My regret here isn’t how I feel, it’s that I didn’t tell you about it sooner.”

Despite being nervous and rambling, he’s calm now because he has to make sure you know. He’s sure of you and he refuses to leave you any room for doubt about how he feels. Hesitantly, his hand drops yours and it only makes you fear he’s abandoning you now, causing you to clench your eyes shut in an attempt to keep tears at bay.

Instead, you feel Tom’s hand on your cheek. 

“Hey, look at me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m with you till the end of the line.” He jokes and you can’t help but let a small smile creep onto your face.

Maybe it’s the inspiration from a little girl named Camden, that gives you the courage to trust Tom to catch you and allow you to fall for him. You love him and here he is saying he loves you too. You value his friendship but you can’t allow yourself to not try to have a future with Tom, the one you’ve been thinking about for over a year. You deserve more than empty promises from guys you don’t love and even though there’s a little voice in your head telling you otherwise, you allow yourself to believe you deserve someone as good as Tom.

“You’re far too obsessed with Marvel,” is all you say in reply.

He smiles back softly, glad you aren’t so in your head anymore as a result of his cheesy quote. His thumb wipes away at a tear that has slipped down your cheek.

“I mean it. For real, not like how Steve meant it before he abandoned Bucky.” Tom grins down at you because it’s easy to fall back into friendship with you.

“You really want this? You’d be number eleven, you know.” You say, half joking, half serious.

“All I ever wanted is right here in front of me. Just promise me you won’t love me like you loved one through ten,” he cheekily replies, as he closes the gap between you and you are close enough to still look at each other. 

He says love him like the others instead of asking again if you do because he already knows. Maybe on some level you both know that love has been there this whole time. It was a twist of fate, a miscommunication and fear of the unknown. You two have been too shy to admit your own feelings to each other, or acknowledge the other’s, but all your friends could tell. Maybe this time spent growing this friendship was worth it, the pining and the longing and heartache. It’s even a little reminiscent of the Princess Diaries. The first one, where Michael and Mia fall for each other slowly and it’s worth it in the end. While you love Chris Pine, the former couple should have stayed together, they deserved it. And now you’re stuck thinking about Mia’s idea of a foot-popping first kiss, and can’t help think of if you’ll get one with Tom.

“Don’t hesitate, just kiss me already.” He smiles at you, knowing exactly what’s running through that hopeless romantic brain of yours.

“Wow, Holland, you’re bossy. Can I expect the same energy in bed?” You joke, playfully rolling your eyes, but then he’s kissing you softly before you can say anything more.

It feels like melting into place, and you think about how you’ve been looking for this for so long that it feels even better when it’s unexpected like this. With your best friend. He’s familiar, he’s cozy and warm and you already know just about everything and (still, somehow) love him. One of his hands is resting on your cheek, the other on your hip, and the kiss and his touch is enough to warm you from the inside out.

Every emotion from today and every day before now is fueling this kiss. Your arms reach up around his neck, one hand threading through the curls at the nape of his neck. How have I never thought about this before, you think, lost in the moment. There’s no foot-pop, but it’s still just as magical as anyone could wish for.

He’s the one pulling away, and you’re so dazed, really wishing he hadn’t. 

“No smart remarks now, Y/L/N?” He smirks at you, as his thumb stroking the skin left exposed from your top riding up. 

“I guess uh…” you think, not wanting him to win, as always “All I have to say is, what took you so long?”

He chuckles, leaning in to press his forehead into yours, “All I can say is I waited so long, that we have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

“I think we can do that,” you smile, leaning in to kiss him again, “so long as the only way you’ll ever hurt me is being a clumsy idiot.”

He smiles, and grabs your hand with the injured wrist, placing a kiss on it, “I think I can manage that.”

When Zendaya comes home after the party to see your bedroom door cracked, and you laying atop Tom’s chest, cozied up, all she can think is, thank god, and finally. But also, what the hell happened to her wrist?

taglist: @averyfosterthoughts @martinafigoli @5secondsofalphas @maybemona

#im v nervous about this ending?????????? hopefully its good?????????? #ahhh #emi writes #tom holland #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland writing #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #the one (aato)

[whumphoarder]

D is for Diploma

Summary: Between all of his commitments, Peter’s grades start slipping, putting him in danger of losing his academic scholarship to Midtown. Stressed and guilt-ridden about the effect this will have on May’s finances, he ends up worrying himself sick and having a breakdown in Tony’s lab.

Word count: 3,759

Genre: emotional hurt/comfort, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N: Thanks so much to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta reading and encouragement <3

Link to read on Ao3

“But how are you getting a C in gym class?” Ned balks at his friend. He’s peering over Peter’s shoulder as he scrolls through his quarterly grades on the school library computer. “Everyone gets an A. I’m getting an A. All you gotta do is show up and at least look like you’re trying and boom, automatic A.”

Peter rubs a hand at the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, remember after the Rhino dude attacked me, how I had all those bruises that didn’t heal right away?”

“Yeah...” Ned recalls, frowning. “But you said they didn’t hurt.”

“They didn’t! Not really, anyway,” Peter says quickly. “But like, I didn’t really want everyone to see that, so I kinda didn’t change into my uniform. And apparently if you don’t change, Wilson just marks you as absent.”

“Ah.” Ned gives him a sympathetic wince. “Yeah, that’s lame.”

“What I don’t understand,” MJ pipes up, glancing up from the book she’s had her nose in all afternoon, “is the D in Spanish. Rodríguez isn’t even a hard teacher.”

Peter’s face flushes with embarrassment. “So… I might have forgotten to submit a couple assignments.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “You forgot? He reminds us what’s due, like, three times every class period.”

“I mean, it was just the take-home quiz...” he mumbles. “And some of the homework sheets. Oh, and that cultural essay thing about the ancient Mayans.”

“Peter.” She blinks at him. “That was like, twenty percent of our grade.”

“Well, to be fair, I did have a concussion,” he defends. “It was a little hard to remember stuff that week.”

Ned rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, that makes it so much better.”

Peter huffs out a laugh. Honestly, between all the hours he’s been logging lately as Spider-Man, his frequent internship nights with Tony in the lab, the increasingly demanding decathlon practice schedule as their team moves toward regionals, and the weekend shifts he’s started picking up at Delmar’s (because, let’s face it, the vigilante life isn’t the most lucrative career path—the occasional free churro notwithstanding), Peter thinks he’s been doing quite well juggling everything. Sure, his grades aren’t quite the neat row of A’s and the occasional B he’s grown accustomed to throughout his school career, but it’s not like he’s failing anything.

“I’ve just got different priorities now,” Peter says with a shrug. “I still show up and I’m passing all my classes, so what does the grade matter?”

MJ returns the shrug, looking vaguely impressed with him. “It doesn’t really. I’ve always been morally opposed to using arbitrary numerical values as a measure of academic success.” She shifts her gaze back to her novel before adding, offhandedly, “But you gotta admit, the tuition break is nice.”

And in those nine little words, she might as well have punched him in the gut.

“Oh shit,” Peter breathes out. Hurriedly, he starts gathering books together and getting to his feet.

“What?” Ned asks, looking puzzled.

“Um, I gotta go,” he blurts. And then before anyone can say another word, he’s out of the library doors.

X

The Parkers aren’t poor, exactly.

May works full-time at her job as a neonatal nurse, besides picking up extra shifts one or two nights a month to give them a bit of cushion. Between her wages and the social security checks that come every month from Ben’s pension, the two of them get by. Sure, Peter might not have name-brand clothes or the coolest tech or even a pair of gym shoes without a bit of duct tape on the soles, but there’s always been food on the table and a roof over his head, so Peter’s never stressed that much about their financial situation.

Maybe that’s how he managed to completely forget about his academic scholarship.

He’s qualified for it ever since he passed Midtown’s entrance exams in the top tenth percentile back in eighth grade. The money is substantial—slightly over two-thirds of the tuition cost is paid for him—and the scholarship automatically renews every semester provided he maintains a grade point average of 3.3 or higher, which has never been a problem for him.

That is, up until now. Factoring in his B in history, the C’s in gym and trig, and his D in Spanish, his GPA is currently sitting at 2.9.

Peter is going to lose his scholarship.

X

With less than two weeks left before finals, Peter starts cramming in all the studying he can manage. He stays up late, pouring over his trigonometry notes, trying to work his way through all the practice problems he’s been slacking on. He makes a point of showing up three minutes early to gym class every day, even if he has to use a bit of his enhanced speed to get all the way there from the chem labs on the other side of the building. On the train, he quizzes himself on the names of historical figures and the dates of battles long-since fought. Some of his teachers are willing to work with him, letting him turn in late assignments for partial credit or giving him additional projects to complete.

And then there’s Spanish.

“Isn’t there some kind of extra credit project I can do?” Peter begs. “Anything?”

It’s his study hall period and he’s at Señor Rodríguez’s desk for the second day in a row, desperately hoping for anything that could give his grade the boost it needs.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” his teacher says, sounding genuinely regretful. “But you’ve had countless opportunities this semester to get your grade up via homework and test retakes, all of which you neglected to take advantage of. Coming to me with less than ten days left in the semester requesting make up work for assignments worth significant percentages of your grade is simply too little, too late.”

“But… I had a concussion that week,” Peter argues. “Like, right when it was all due. And I would have done the work before, but…” He trails off, unable to finish his sentence without explaining his unorthodox extracurriculars. “I...I was busy,” he concludes weakly.

Rodríguez raises an eyebrow a little skeptically. “I didn’t receive any notes from the nurse’s office about this concussion.”

Peter glances down to his feet. “Well, that’s because she didn’t know, exactly…”

No one did—not even May. After getting all those bruises the week before, Peter didn’t want anyone to know he was hurt again so soon. Apparently Karen hadn’t deemed the blow to the head he took severe enough to override his wishes. He’d just dealt with the headaches and brain fog the best he could and sort of floated through that week on his own. In hindsight, maybe not his best plan.

“Well, I guess this is a good life lesson for you then, Peter,” Rodríguez says. His voice is firm, but not unkind. “Part of growing up is taking responsibility and learning to communicate with authority figures before you get into trouble.”

“Right, and I get that,” Peter babbles, “I just—”

His teacher holds up a finger, quieting him. “My job is to train my students for success in the real world, and sometimes that means reminding you that actions have consequences. ¿Lo entiendes?”

And Peter finds himself nodding. Because, despite the pool of dread growing in his gut, he does understand. He wants to be mad, wants to say it’s unfair and the universe gave him a raw deal and he doesn’t deserve this. But he can’t. Rodríguez is right.

And Peter’s still fucked.

X

By the time Friday rolls around, Peter’s barely functioning. Besides all the extra assignments and studying for finals, he’s had three days in a row of Decathlon practices, followed by some particularly eventful evening patrols that all went quite a bit later than his usual curfew of ten p.m.

He can’t get much of his lunch down today, which does nothing to appease his friends’ concerned looks. The food seems tasteless in his mouth and he’s so tired he nearly nods off into his cafeteria chicken nuggets.

When school finally lets out, he’s surprised and a little disheartened to see the sleek black car waiting for him in the bus circle. He’d totally forgotten it was an internship weekend.

Figures.

X

Peter groans as he disconnects the circuits he just switched out. He’s been trying to fix a bug in his suit’s heater upgrade for the last twenty minutes now, but nothing he attempts is working and his head is throbbing so much that his vision is hazy.

“Just try again, kid,” Tony encourages absently from across the workshop. He’s not looking up, fully engrossed as he is in his own project. “You got this.”

“Yeah...” Peter mutters under his breath. Blinking a few times, he rubs a hand at his eyes to try to clear his vision.

He connects a different wire. That one doesn’t yield any better results, so he unplugs it and tries again. Then again. Then again. He’s fairly sure he’s already tried the next combination, but he’s so tired he can’t remember so he does it again just to be sure. Nothing.

Peter is so frustrated now that his hands are actually shaking. He pauses and takes a deep breath before trying again.

This time, the wire sparks at him.

“I can’t do this!” Peter exclaims, shoving the suit away from him across the table. “I can’t do anything! Why am I so fucking stupid?!”

He’s breathing heavily now, tears clouding his vision even further. Within a few seconds he feels Tony’s hand rest heavily on his shoulder. It should be comforting, but it only makes Peter feel pathetic.

“C’mon, just take a deep breath and—”

“No!” Peter blurts, shaking away from Tony’s grip. “That’s not going to fix anything! I can’t fix this—don’t you see?!”

Stepping backwards, Tony holds his hands up in front of his chest, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. “Okay…” he says carefully. “I think you might need a break.”

Tears prick at Peter’s eyes and he instantly regrets snapping at his mentor. “No, no, I didn’t mean that! I’m s-sorry, ’m fine…” he says. It would probably sound a lot more convincing if his breath would stop hitching.

Tony lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, no, I’m pulling rank here,” he declares. “It’s break time.”

“No!” Peter protests. His hands fumble back on the table for the wires.  “I gotta finish it! It’s so close, it’s just—” He cuts himself off as the images of the suit swim before his eyes, his head throbbing. “I, I need to finish…” he concludes lamely.

“Peter, just stop,” Tony says with an exasperated sigh. “You’re no good like this.”

Somehow, those words are the catalyst. Peter feels every emotion he’s been bottling up for the past week erupt inside of him. His breath hitches and his head pulses. “I, I know I’m not,” he manages to say, “but that’s why I gotta… gotta finish, then maybe—”

“Jesus, kid,” Tony breathes out. “That’s not what I meant at all. I was just saying—”

Peter cuts him off. “No, I… I know…” Tears are sliding down Peter’s cheeks now. He runs a hand through his hair, shoulders shaking. “’M sorry.”

Tony’s eyes are a mixture of concern and confusion. “Whoa, hey, what’s going on here?” Tugging the edge of his sleeve over his thumb, Tony uses it to wipe a few of the tears off his cheeks. “Talk to me.”

Honestly, Peter doesn’t even know where to begin. The frustration of his current project, the lack of sleep, his grades, the scholarship…

“I just… I-I have a headache.”

Peter doesn’t know why he says it—the pressure in his skull doesn’t even rank very high on his list of concerns at the moment, yet the simple physicality of it somehow makes it the easiest thing to admit. He rubs the back of his hand at his eyes, but his vision is still so blurry. “Can’t really see straight…”

Tony’s brows knit together. “Is it a migraine?”

“N-No,” Peter says between choked sobs. “Or... I don’t know, I don’t th-think so?” Despite never having had a migraine, he’s pretty sure that’s not what this is. The pain isn’t anything exceptional—it’s just that he can’t seem to stop crying and he’s so fucking tired.

“Either way, I think you’ll feel better once you’ve got a couple painkillers in you,” Tony reasons. “C’mon, let’s get you sorted out.”

Peter shakes his head in weak protest. “No, ’s’okay... “

“Nope,” Tony says, his voice a little more firm. “Trust me on this, you don’t want to work in a lab right now. It’s bright, and loud, and honestly, you’re a bit of a safety hazard at the moment.”

To Peter’s horror, a fresh wave of emotion comes over him and he finds himself properly crying now, his frame wracking with each sob.

“Okay, okay, alright…” Tony murmurs, and Peter feels a hand awkwardly patting him on the back.

It’s all so idiotic, Peter decides, standing in Tony’s lab, crying over things that are completely his own fault and a headache that isn’t even that bad.

“You’re okay, kid,” Tony whispers. “Just breathe.”

As Peter struggles to pull himself together, he feels the hand switch to rubbing circles on his back. It moves up to the back of his neck, but halts as soon as Tony’s fingers touch Peter’s bare skin.

Tony frowns. “Do you have a fever?”

“Wh-What?” Peter’s throat is thick.

“You’re really warm,” Tony explains. He flips his hand around to press the back of his fingers to Peter’s skin, first on his neck, then on his cheek. “Yeah. FRIDAY, can we get a read on that?”

“100.7, boss,” she supplies.

Tony hums a bit. “Yeah, that’s about what I thought…”

Peter doesn’t get it. “B-But I’m not sick,” he protests. “Just—”

“Exhausted,” Tony finishes for him. “When’s the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”

Sniffling, Peter gives a non-committal shrug.

“Yeah, that’s not good, kid,” Tony huffs. “Take it from a guy who has a bit of experience in this area—not sleeping enough will seriously mess you up.”

With a hand on Peter’s back, Tony starts gently ushering the kid out of the lab. Peter doesn’t even bother protesting anymore as he shuffles along, his lip quivering. He figures he’s caused enough trouble today.

Tony deposits him onto the couch in the living room and Peter immediately curls up against the arm rest, squeezing his eyelids shut in an effort not to think about what a fool he’s making of himself in front of his mentor. It doesn’t help much.

“You just chill out for a minute here, okay?” Tony says quietly, draping a blanket over Peter. “I’m gonna get you some meds.”

Peter nods and Tony gives his shoulder a final squeeze before stepping out.

The second he’s alone, the tears start streaming down again, hot and silent and totally uncontrollable. If he’s not working in the lab, then he really should be studying for these stupid finals, but he can’t bring himself to pull out his flash cards. He doesn’t think he can rest—not with so much hanging over his head—but he can’t work either. Tony was right; he’s just no good right now.

When Tony reenters with painkillers and a glass of water, he doesn’t say anything about how Peter is hurriedly sitting up and scrubbing his face with his hands in a pointless attempt to pull himself together. He just presses two pills into Peter’s palm.

Looking down at the painkillers in his shaking hand, Peter’s stomach twists and he’s suddenly not so sure they’ll be able to stay down. “I can’t. I feel sick,” he admits in a whisper.

With a quiet sigh, Tony perches himself on the edge of the sofa, right beside Peter’s tucked knees. “I think you’re just tired, kiddo. Sometimes that makes you feel a little sick.”

Peter doesn’t say anything so Tony passes him the glass of water. “Here. Humor me,” he says. “If I’m wrong, I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

It’s a stupid joke, but the corners of Peter’s lips twitch anyway. “Okay,” he croaks.

Peter slips the pills into his mouth and swallows them down with a sip of water. He’s queasy, but it’s not too bad. He goes to set the cup back down on the coffee table, but his mentor shakes his head.

“Drink the whole thing,” Tony instructs.

Peter obeys. It takes him a couple of minutes, but he manages to get the entire cup down and feels just the smallest bit better for it.

Tony takes the empty glass from his hand and sets it on the table. “Think you can sleep now?”

Peter just shrugs. He wants to—god, he wants to—but he doesn’t deserve it. Not when this is all his own damn fault. His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks again:

“I think I really messed up, Mr. Stark.”

X

Over the next ten minutes, it all comes tumbling out: the job at Delmar’s, the decathlon requirements, the late patrols, his slipping grades, his scholarship, everything.

“I just… I don’t want to change schools,” Peter concludes softly. “I like Midtown. It was the first place I really felt like… well, like I fit in.”

Tony’s been quiet for the whole time Peter was speaking, but now his brow furrows. “Why would you need to quit Midtown?”

Peter blinks at him; isn’t it obvious? “Because the full tuition is eight thousand dollars a semester. Without the scholarship…” he trails off. “I just can’t do that to May.”

A look of relief spreads across Tony’s face. “Is that all? That’s the whole issue?” He huffs out an amused breath. “Done. Consider it paid. Problem solved.”

Peter feels his cheeks flush. He shakes his head frantically. “No, no, I didn’t mean that you should pay! Please don’t do that!”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to blink at him. “Peter. I am a multi-billionaire. Do you have any idea what eight thousand dollars is to me?”

“But you shouldn’t have t—”

“Peanuts,” Tony cuts him off. “I’ve spent more on peanuts than that.”

“But—”

“And by that I mean actual, honest-to-god peanuts,” Tony continues over the kid’s protests. “There’s this company in Peru that slow-roasts them for twenty-one days in a secret spice blend. Happy’s obsessed with ‘em—says they’re god’s gift to mankind. So, for Christmas one year—”

“You can’t pay my tuition!” Peter blurts out.

Tony stops his story abruptly. His eyes narrow at Peter. “And why exactly is that?”

“Because…” Running a hand through his hair, Peter draws in a shuddery breath. “Because… If anyone should pay, it’s me. I-I’m the one who fucked up and lost the stupid scholarship. I should be the one responsible for fixing this.”

“But you can’t fix it,” Tony says bluntly.

Peter’s caught off-guard. “Wh-What? N-No, I just need to get my grades up, and, and…”

Tony’s voice is gentler now. “You can’t, Peter. You can’t get a 2.9 up to a 3.3 by next week, no matter how well you do on your exams. You’ve gotta know that.”

(Peter does know. He’s known for days. He’s always been good at math, after all.)

“So you can’t keep going on like this, trying to make up for what happened,” Tony concludes.

Tears prick at the corners of Peter’s eyes once more. He’s determined not to let them fall this time. “But I deserve it…” he whispers.

Tony shrugs. “If we always got what we deserved, I never would have made it through the 90s.” He huffs out a short laugh. “At least nobody has to bail you out of prison. Same can’t be said for all of us.”

In spite of Peter’s earlier resolve, the traitorous tears slip out anyway. He wonders how he has any left.

Tony sobers a bit. “You’re a good kid, Pete,” he says quietly. “But you’re trying to carry the whole world on your shoulders and that’s enough to break anyone. It’s okay to ask for help sometimes. Even if you fucked up.”

Peter swallows hard. “Okay.”

“So let’s try this again,” Tony says. He makes eye contact with Peter. “What do you need, kid?”

“Right now?” Peter exhales deeply. “I dunno. A nap?”

Tony smirks slightly. “I think we can manage that.”

X

Peter makes it through finals.

All his extra effort and studying does yield some results. His gym grade increases to a B after Coach Wilson grades his two-page extra credit report on the rules of badminton. The trig final is rough, but he pulls in another couple points there, and the art teacher accepts a few late sketches from the unit on perspectivism. With the help of the final exam, he even manages to eek out a C- in Spanish.

When it’s all said and done, Peter’s GPA sits at 3.1.

“That wasn’t easy to do. I’m proud of you, Peter,” May says sincerely. “You know that, right?”

Peter shrugs. “I guess so.”

They’re sitting together at the apartment’s small kitchen table, May’s open laptop in front of them with all of Peter’s end of semester grades displayed. Peter’s eyes drift down from the screen to the table where a check for eight thousand dollars signed by Tony Stark himself is staring back at him. He sighs.

May plants a quick kiss on the top of her nephew’s head. “Well, I know so. So for now, I’ll just know it for the both of us.”

Peter strokes his fingers over the crisp paper of the check. Besides covering tuition, Tony has now upgraded Peter’s unofficial SI internship to a paid position—something he says he should have done long ago, given how much time Peter spends working in the lab—and that will allow him to give Mr. Delmar his two-week notice.

He knows he should be grateful, but honestly, it’s going to take him some time to wrap his head around the concept of being taken care of like this.

Getting up from the table, May moves over to retrieve a small paper bag from the counter. “That reminds me—Mr. Stark told me to give you this.” She tosses the bag to Peter, who catches it easily.

Curiously, he opens it. He’s immediately hit with the aroma of exotic spices and roasted legumes. Peter can’t help but grin.

A note inside the bag reads: Enjoy your peanuts, kid.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: 

Viral Wisdom

Go Down Swinging

A Pressing Emergency

Fic Masterlist

#irondad fic #irondad & spiderson #sick peter parker #hurt/comfort #crying #emotional breakdown #angst #soft angst #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #headache #fever #stress #school stress #gpa

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 2 - The First Night

Varian landed ungracefully on the ground. He looked up to see if any of the knights had seen him fly off the slide, but none were around. He picked himself up and inspected his surroundings. He stood in an alleyway between two tall towers; the crystal slide he had just slid down attached to the side of one of them.

A few moments passed and he nervously began to shift his weight from foot to foot as he waited for someone to appear. Just when he had started to think that the people he had met had abandoned him, he saw the green knight, Wasabi, exit out the front of the building. He turned to find Varian and upon seeing him he smiled and waved. Varian returned the smile and jogged over to where he stood. 

“Have fun?” The tall man queried. Varian nodded a reply, out of breath from both the ride down and from running. The man just smiled back at him and then motioned for Varian to follow. He led them to another alley a short ways away. In it was parked a strange metal vehicle on wheels. It looked similar to the ones the men in blue had rode in, only smaller, with no flashing lights on top, and was painted green. 

“Wow!” Varian exclaimed as he ran to inspect the new machine. “What is it?” 

“Uh…A car.” Wasabi replied as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, but Varian was too excited to notice that he was coming across as weird to the stranger. 

“How does it work?” He eagerly asked. 

“Umm... Well it runs on a combustion engine. Do..do you not have cars in your world?” 

“No.” Varian replied glibly. “Everyone just either walks or rides a horse.” 

“Oh, wow, uh..no one’s ridden a horse around here for over a hundred years.” He said with an awkward laugh. He then cleared his throat and asked Varian if he wanted to go for a ride in the fantastic invention.

“Would I ever!?” Varian gleefully exclaimed and with that grabbed the handle of the door, flung it open, and hopped inside. Varian looked in wonder at the dashboard, at all the knobs and dials, and tried to mentally guess what each may do. Wasabi entered from the other side and sat in front of a wheel that Varian guessed was for steering.

“Now the first thing one must always remember to do when riding in a car,” Wasabi instructed with a serious air, "is to strap in one’s seat belt.” With that he grabbed the aforementioned “seat belt” and pulled it over his shoulder buckling it into the metal buckle on the opposite side. Varian dutifully mimicked his action and once completed looked up at the larger man and shyly smiled; looking for acknowledgment that he did it right. The knight smiled back at him approvingly. He then took a small key from his side pocket, placed it in a keyhole next to the wheel, and gave the key a turn. The car roared to life and Varian couldn’t help but giggle in excitement.

                                                   ----------------------

Ruddiger hid himself inside an alleyway, tucked up under the open lid of a large box. He peered out at the strange people dressed in blue, wondering what they might do, praying they would just leave already. He didn’t know where he was, but it was loud and unnaturally bright. Worse, his boy, who he had arrived with, had been carried away by a strange creature and five other oddly dressed people. He had to get back to him. But how? Where would he even begin to look? 

Finally the people in blue piled back into their noisy carts and rode away. He waited for several minutes to see if they would return. When they did not, Ruddiger ventured to poke his head out of the alley and look around. He was rewarded with the sight of Varian walking around the corner into another alleyway. He excitedly took off after his owner. Upon reaching the other alley though, he was greeted with the sight of Varian entering a green cart with another human also dressed in green. Ruddiger recognized the human as one of the ones who had dragged his boy away to start with. 

The cart began to move, backing out of the alley, and Ruddiger had to scramble out of the way. It then stopped and turned to face the direction of the street. As it began to speed away, Ruddiger ran after it, made a flying leap, and landed on the back bumper. He then held on as it sped down the road.

                                                  ----------------------

Varian pressed his face to the window of the car. His nose smooshed up against the glass as he tried to get a better look at the tall buildings as they passed by. Wasabi was off to the side steering while also explaining the various rules and regulations about driving the vehicle. Varian only half way listened. Not because he didn’t care, he did. He found the machine fascinating and wanted to know more, but he also found everything else fascinating too. 

Everywhere he looked there was something new to gain his attention. It was honestly a little overwhelming because he couldn’t focus on just one thing. As soon as something grabbed his interest it would slide out of view and another thing would come along and catch his eye. He just sat in silent awe, his head swerving every which way, unable to verbally formulate the millions of questions tumbling through his mind. 

Eventually as they went along the buildings got shorter and shorter and further and further apart. After a time Wasabi turned the car into a smaller side street next to a large building with multiple windows and off in the distance Varian could see other shorter but nevertheless still quite impressive buildings with well manicured lawns. Wasabi then pulled the car to a stop alongside several other similar vehicles. 

“Well here we are! The San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, also known as SFIT.” Wasabi proudly proclaimed. 

“This is a university?” Varian asked in wonderment. Schools of higher learning were rare and expensive places. One had to go outside of Corona to the larger cities and kingdoms to find them and only the richest of nobles and royals got admitted. Varian always knew that attending such bastions of knowledge was a mere dream for a poor farm boy, though he had always hoped to at least see one someday. And here he was about to spend the night at one! “Can I look around?” 

“Well maybe tomorrow, or the day after, but the school is closed for spring break so not much is going on right now. But in the meantime it’s getting late, so let’s get cleaned up and get some sleep.” With that he stepped out of the car and Varian followed after him. 

They walked into the closest building; the tall one with all the windows. Once inside they then walked up a couple of flights of stairs which lead to a long hallway with doors on either side. Wasabi stopped at the third door on the right which had the number 303 painted on the top. He pulled out another key and unlocked the door and walked inside. Once inside he took off his helmet and flipped a switch next to the door. The room flooded with light revealing a type of living quarters. 

“Welcome to my humble abode. Make yourself at ho–” Wasabi stopped mid sentence as the light above him began to flicker off and on. He turned to see Varian switching the light switch up and down with a look of intense interest on his face.

“Fascinating.” Varian said with awe. “The switch appears to be connected to the light above. What connects them and what powers the light?” 

“Uhh…..wires and electricity?” Wasabi said completely caught off guard by this new line of questioning. 

“Electricity? Like from lightning? How do you harvest lightning?” 

“From a power plant” Wasabi said slowly trying to find the words to explain what was, to him, a part of everyday life. 

“A plant that generates electricity!? Oh, what kind of plant is it? Like a flower? Or a vine? Or-” 

“No, not a living plant.” Wasabi interrupted. “A power plant, like a factory. They use turbines to generate electricity and use copper wires to carry the current to various places. Let me guess, you don’t use electricity in your world either?” 

Varian shook his head, suddenly aware that he was completely out of place in this new world and beginning to feel more than a little awkward. He tried to curb his questions and act nonchalant in order to avoid any more embarrassment; placing his hands behind his back and taking a look around at his new surroundings. 

Wasabi’s dormitory was comprised of two rooms. The first was simultaneously a sleeping quarters and living space. There was a bed and a dresser in one corner of the room and across from it a small table with kitchen supplies. Next to that was a work desk and then next to it, across from the door, a small yellow sofa, at the foot of which there laid a small green rug. There was a window above the small kitchen area with curtains to match. There wasn’t much room, but it was kept clean and neat and was obviously enough for a single occupant or two. The second room was even smaller and covered in white tiles. Upon inspection Varian deduced it was a type of washroom, but the various bits of furniture within were unlike any he had seen before and his curiosity was piqued once more. 

“You can take a shower first if you want.” Wasabi offered. 

The shower that he pointed to was a small tiled basin with a drain and a curtain around it, on the side of the wall was a knob and a metal bit of pipe that hung down. Varian turned the knob experimentally and water began to pour from the pipe into the basin. 

“Woah” Varian breathlessly laughed as he began to turn the knob in different directions to see what different results it would produce. He was met with different increases in the water pressure and flow from the pipe.  

“You gotta turn the faucet all the way to the right for the hot water” Wasabi instructed as Varian fiddled with the shower. Varian promptly followed this advice and the water coming from the pipe started to admit steam indicating that the water was indeed getting hot. 

“You know, I once tried to build a hot water system like this for my village a couple of years ago using steam” Varian began to brag but his pomposity quickly deflated when he had to recount how he was unsuccessful in this attempt, “Sadly it didn’t really work out.”

“You don’t have running water, either?” Wasabi asked with a look of concern on his face. 

“Well, we had a well and the river,” Varian offhandedly explained, trying to shrug off the larger man’s worry. That’s when the strange seat on the other end of the small room caught his eye. 

“Oh, what’s this?” He exclaimed as he pushed down a small lever on its side. He heard a flushing noise and he looked down to see water draining out of the seat portion of the odd chair. He looked back up and immediately knew he had done something wrong when he noted the look of horror on Wasabi’s face.

                                                  ----------------------

Wasabi scurried about the dorm, dusting and cleaning where he went. The stranger was in the other room taking a shower and Wasabi took this time to organize both his home and his thoughts. Cleaning and organizing was something he enjoyed. It helped him to unclutter his mind and de-stress from the day’s events, and boy what a day this one had turned out to be! 

The arrival of the stranger from another world was already weird enough, but the constant new revelations about said world were starting to unnerve Wasabi. Teaching a grown teenage boy what a toilet was not something he had ever considered he would have to do in his life. What kind of hellish nightmare world didn’t have indoor plumbing anyways? He shuddered at the thought. 

Soon Wasabi ran out of things to clean. He kept his room so meticulous at all times that there really wasn’t much left to do. He sighed and then decided to turn his attention to the laundry. He changed out of his armor, which was covered in dust and dirt from the explosion, and into some pajamas. He couldn’t just throw said armor into a washing machine, but he could polish it off while the other clothes were washing, so he placed it into the laundry basket anyways. He then picked up the stranger’s clothes that he had left outside of the bathroom door. They were also covered in grime and dirt from the explosion from earlier and so Wasabi had agreed to wash them as well. However he remembered that without running water or electricity there undoubtedly weren’t any washing machines in the stranger’s world either. There was no telling how long he had worn these clothes without cleaning them. Wasabi grimaced and gingerly held the articles of clothing between his forefinger and thumb as he placed them into the basket with the rest of the laundry.       

Before he could head down to the dormitory’s laundry room though he needed to find something else for the boy to wear for the night. So Wasabi went scrounging around his chest of drawers to see if he could find anything that might fit. He eventually pulled out a pair of old jogging shorts. He hoped that the drawstring on them could be tied and tightened enough so they wouldn’t slip off the other boy’s small waist. In addition to this he pulled out one of his old hand knitted sweaters. He had made it back in high school and it was getting to be a little too tight for him but it still would be baggy on the kid. Wasabi shrugged. Oh well, it was just to sleep in anyways, the boy’s real clothes would be clean and dry by morning.

Wasabi looked up from what he was doing when he began to hear singing coming from the other room. The kid was taking a while, but Wasabi supposed if it was his first ever shower he would take forever too. That’s when his stomach began to growl. It’d been hours since he’d last eaten and there’s no telling how long it’d been since the stranger had eaten as well. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. Two in the morning; not much left still open except the local pizzeria. Being right next to a college they were open twenty four seven.  

“Hey! I’m going to order us a pizza, do you like black olives?” Wasabi yelled through the door. 

“Love them!” the boy yelled from the other side. 

With that Wasabi folded the clean clothes and laid them on the sofa and then went to call in the order. He had just finished placing the call, with the man on the other end promising to deliver in five to ten minutes, when he turned around and was greeted by the sight of a raccoon clawing at his window. 

Wasabi screamed. The wild creature had begun to lift up the bottom panel of the window in order to get in and was squirming his way through. Wasabi rushed over to the window to stop it, tossing his phone on his bed in passing. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Wasabi barked while trying to shove the raccoon back outside. That’s when the stranger came out of the bathroom. 

He stood there dripping for a few moments, towel wrapped around his waist, trying to process what he was seeing. Suddenly recognition swept across his face and his mouth split into a big grin.  

“Ruddiger!” he yelled with joy and then ran up to the window and scooped the raccoon into his arms, bringing him inside and nuzzling his face in the creature’s fur as if it was a pet cat or dog. 

Wasabi looked on in silent horror and confusion. Out of all the odd things the kid had done or said today this was the most baffling and disturbing to Wasabi. 

“Nope! Unh-uh! No way! We don’t allow wild animals inside dormitories around here!” 

“Rudggier’s not wild. He’s tame.” The boy replied with a laugh, still cooing over the masked critter. 

“Rudggier? It has a name?” Wasabi asked in disbelief. “Well does it also have it’s shots?” 

“Shots?” The boy echoed in confusion. 

“Yes. Shots. As in Vaccines.” The boy just stared back at him blankly so Wasabi continued, “You know medicine that’s supposed to prevent you from getting sick?”   

“You have medicine that stops people from ever getting sick?” Varian responded in amazement. 

This sent Wasabi into a fresh new wave of panic. The kid had no concept of modern technology, hygiene, nor medicine, and here he was snuggling with a diseased ridden vermin claiming it as his pet. Wasabi bit his fist and took deep breaths to try and keep himself from hyperventilating. Once he thought he was calm enough to speak again he continued with his argument.  

“Look, pets or any other kind of animal isn’t allowed on school campus so he’s just going to have to go back outside.” 

“No.” The younger boy backed away and clutched the raccoon tightly to his chest in a defensive manner. “If Ruddgier goes then I go too.” 

“Go where!? We’ve already been through this. You can’t sleep outside.” Wasabi was quickly losing what little patience he had left. He couldn’t understand why the kid was being so obstinate.

Varian was also losing his patience. “I do it all the time. It’s no big deal.” He said with an eye roll.

“Why!? Does everyone in your world live like cavemen!?” The boy looked really offended at that comment but Wasabi didn’t give him a chance to retort back. “Look this isn’t up for discussion. Raccoons aren’t pets and they don’t belong inside. End of story. I don’t even know why you’d ever want that thing around anyways?” 

“Because he’s all that I have left!” The boy yelled back ferociously. 

Wasabi was taken aback. Not just by the intensity of the boy’s voice but also by the complete change in demeanor. All of the previous wonderment in his eyes was replaced with anger and pain and upon his face was a scowl fiercer than any wild animal. He looked feral and cornered, like he could attack you and/or bolt from the room at a moment’s notice. Then the actual words the boy had said began to sink in; “all that I have left.”

“Oh man.” Wasabi whispered to himself and hung his head in shame. This poor kid was lost. Nothing in this world was familiar to him and his family was a world away, and what had Wasabi done to actually help? Tell him to send away his pet; the one thing that reminded him of home. He sighed and swept a hand across his face, as if the action would wipe away his anxiety and embarrassment. “Look, I’m sorry.” 

“What?” The boy responded in disbelief. Whatever he had been expecting the older guy to say, an apology wasn’t it. 

Wasabi sighed again and calmly repeated his apology. “I’m sorry. All this time I was thinking about myself and what I was comfortable with, and I didn’t take into consideration your feelings. That was selfish of me and I apologize.” 

The teen just continued to look at him with a mixture of confusion and distrust, so Wasabi pressed forward. “Look, perhaps we can come to a compromise.” He slowly suggested, trying to mentally figure out what that compromise might be. However, before he could continue on, there was a knock at the door.

                                                  ----------------------

Varian watched as Wasabi talked with the man at the door, only paying half attention to their conversation. His brain was still reeling from the fight that had just occurred. Varian wasn’t used to hearing apologies, not sincere ones anyways. There wasn’t a single person in his life who hadn’t let him down before. They would feign interest in his well being only to abandon him later or go back on their word. Therefore, Varian didn’t know what to make of Wasabi. He sounded honest but so had they. Yet, none of them had taken him into their home and offered him help when he needed it either.  

Wasabi finished giving the man at the door some green slips of paper, took from him a flat brown box, and wished the man goodnight. The box must have contained some sort of food as Varian could smell roasted garlic and other spices emitting from it. 

“Now as I was saying,” Wasabi turned to him, “maybe we can work out a compromise. We really can’t just let a raccoon roam free around the apartment complex, but if you don’t want him to sleep outside, then I can make him up a bed in the bathroom and he has to stay there for the night.” 

Varian mulled over the proposal. It seemed fair. Ruddiger would be safe and he wouldn’t need much for the night; just a blanket and some food. Varian began to nod his agreement but Wasabi was already continuing on before he could say anything. 

“He can stay, that is, only on three conditions. One, I call the vet in the morning and schedule him a check up and they’ll undoubtedly give him the shots he needs.”

“What’s a vet?”

”An animal doctor. Two, also in the morning we swing by the pet store and buy him a leash, a carrier, and a cage for him to sleep in.” 

“A cage!?” Varian was less agreeable to that last condition. 

“Yes, a cage. He can’t be wandering around the halls and he can’t be outside unsupervised. You saw all those cars on the road on the way over here, right?” Varian nodded. “Well there’s even more of them going about during the day and you don’t want him to get run over do you, or get lost in the big city because he snuck out during the night?” 

Varian looked forlornly down at his pet as he held him. No he didn’t want either of those things to happen, and this was a whole new world, no telling what other dangers existed for a raccoon. But he just knew Ruddiger would hate being stuck in a cage. He sure did. Varian nuzzled his face into the raccoon’s fur, unsure what to do.

“Don’t worry.” Wasabi tried to encourage him ”You can let him out whenever you’re here and can take him outside as long as he has the leash on.”

“Ok.” Varian said softly, his face still buried in his pet as he hugged him. 

 “Aright, last condition, we can not let any of the Residential Advisers know that we’re keeping a wild animal in the dorms. I can’t afford being kicked out of student housing. So we have to keep him hidden from the higher ups.” Wasabi pointed right at Ruddiger as he said this to emphasize his point. “Got it?”

Varian was surprised. He didn’t realize that Ruddiger could be such a risk to Wasabi. He also wasn’t expecting anyone to go to such trouble just for him and the realization that this man was willing to risk his home just to keep Varian happy was humbling to say the least. 

“Got it” he repeated back, vowing to himself not to let that happen. 

“Great! Now that that’s settled, here’s the pizza if you’re hungry.’ Wasabi sat the box down on the table. “I’ve also laid out some clean clothes for you to sleep in, they’re on the couch, and I’m going to go downstairs and throw the laundry in the washing machine.” With that he  picked up a basket full of clothes and walked towards the door. 

“You also have a machine that washes clothes!? Can I see it?” Varian asked, his curiosity piqued once again. 

“Sure, we can go down together when it’s time to put them in the dryer. That gives you some time to eat and change clothes.” Wasabi struggled a bit to open the door as his hands were full, but no sooner did he get it open, was he then stopped by Varian’s voice. 

“Hey, Wasabi.” 

“Hmm?” Wasabi turned around and stood in the doorway to look at him. 

Varian was shuffling his feet and looking downwards trying to form the right words. 

“Thanks. For everything, for helping me, I mean. Not a whole lot of people would go out their way to do that and you didn’t have to, so, ..thank you.” Varian looked up at those last two words, emphasizing how much he truly appreciated all that was being done for him. 

“Naw, don’t mention it. After all, what are friends for?” 

Varian didn’t know the answer to that question. He had never had friends before; not real ones. Not ones that would go through any pains to help you out because helping was just the right thing to do. But apparently this was a rhetorical question, as Wasabi only stood around long enough to give Varian a smile and then turned to leave, closing the door behind him. 

Varian stood still for a few moments, looking at the space where the older teen had stood, mulling over what had just happened. But soon enough Ruddiger was getting tired of being held and was struggling to escape his arms, distracting him from his thoughts. He put the raccoon down and then went to change into the clothes Wasabi had given him. 

They were far too big on him. The short britches had a drawstring to tighten them with but even when pulled as tight as they would go they hung loose upon his hips. The jersey was no better. It hung down to his knees and the sleeves went several inches past his wrists, completely covering his hands. But he dealt with ill fitting clothes for most of his life. Usually just re-purposing his father’s old hand-me-downs, re-patching or hemming as needed. So Varian just rolled up the sleeves, deciding to make do; at least these clothes were well maintained and didn’t need any repairing.    

He then turned his attention to the food. He had heard of pizza before, it was apparently popular in Italy according to the sailors and traveling merchants he sometimes talked to. A must have if one were to visit say Naples, not that Varian ever figured he would. He had never traveled further than Vardaros, a city outside of Corona’s walls that his dad would sometimes go to market to. 

The pizza consisted of flat bread covered in olives, onions, and entirely too much cheese that overflowed in stringy pieces when he picked up one of the pre-cut slices. He took an experimental bite. Under the cheese there was a type of red sauce spiced with garlic and other herbs. It wasn’t bad, though not what he had been expecting. He curled up on the sofa, sitting cross legged, and eating the rest of the slice, pulling off pieces of the runny cheese that was falling off to give to Ruddigger. Who grabbed them from his hands and gulped them down eagerly. 

After finishing a slice Varian decided he had had enough. Ruddiger apparently had not and ran up to the table to grab his own slice from the box. Varian watched the gluttonous raccoon with amusement but then soon found himself yawning. He stretched, feeling sleep catching up to him after the day’s events. This, though, seemed to be a signal to Ruddgier, who immediately dropped the piece of pizza he was eating and sprinted back to the window. 

“Ruddigger?” Varian called out in both confusion and alarm. Worried that his pet would leave so soon after they had just been reunited, he got up from the couch and followed. 

However Ruddiger only went as far as the window sill. He picked up something in his mouth and then turned back around and trotted back to where Varian was standing, proudly holding his head up expecting Varian to take the item from him. 

“Whatcha got there buddy?” Varian asked as Ruddiger deposited a yellow bit of rock into his hand. Like a puppy dog who just fetched a stick and was entirely too proud of itself for completing such a simple task, he sat back and eagerly waited for his master’s approval. 

Varian’s heart skipped a beat. It was a piece of amber, the amber. It was roughly four inches in length that tapered to a sharp point. It’s sides were uneven and craggy but it was entirely flat and smooth on one end, as if it had been cut. But the amber couldn’t be cut, unless….

Varian’s pulse began to race as his mind ran through the possibilities. It must have come through the portal with him, which meant that the portal itself must have cut the piece off when it closed. Which made sense as it wasn’t a physical force that ruptured the surface of the unbreakable rock but an absence of space itself. What this meant for his father and how he could go about implementing this knowledge was invaluable and the first real break though he had since the accident. Now if only he could get back to his lab…

Varian stopped his run away thoughts and looked around at the unfamiliar apartment. But he wasn’t at his lab, or Corona, he was here. And he didn’t even know where here actually was, or how to get back, or even if he could get back. 

Varian slumped back onto the sofa, tears filling his eyes. The full enormity of what had happened to him finally sinking in without anything else to distract himself with. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was scared. Scared that he may have lost his dad for good. He couldn’t stop the tears now. Varian couldn’t tell you how many times he had cried since that fateful snowstorm but for a while he had believed he had no more tears left to shed. Apparently he was wrong, just like how he was wrong about so many other things in his life. 

He wiped his eyes and laid upon the couch, turning his head away from the door and curling up in a fetal position. He didn’t want Wasabi coming through the door and seeing him awake and distressed. He no longer cared about washing machines and pizza and whatever other wonders this world may hold, he just wanted to sleep and to dream about happier times in his life. Lucky for him the sofa was cushiony and soft, far more comfortable then what he had been sleeping on for the past year or so, and it therefore lulled him to sleep soon enough and he was blessed with the sweet relief of unconsciousness.

#of rocks and robots #tangled the series #BH6 the series #varian #wasabi #ruddiger #rapunzel's tangled adventure

[sparklyaxolotlstudent]

Another Kind of Chameleon Part 2

-

“MagnifiChameleon”

“… That’s the same thing as before”

“Charming Chameleon”

“That’s a mouthful”

“… Charmeleon”

“… That’s a pokemon and you know it”

Lila was getting frustrated. Every name that she had suggested, Glamm had turned it down. Normally, she would do as she pleased and call herself something self congratulatory and that it would stand out, but as Glamm had very nicely pointed out, Ladybug would figure her out rather quickly if she claimed outrageous things. She had to be smarter than Ladybug, and as annoying as Glamm was, they were right, she had to play the long game instead of going for instant adoration from the public.

And Lila would never admit it, but she felt kind of proud when Glamm said that they were sure Lila would be able to outsmart Ladybug.

“How do you know what is a pokemon?” Lila also hated to admit, but having someone to banter with, without fear of actual consequences was a bit fun, especially when she won.

“Again, I have been with you practically your whole life. I know of your on-and-off relationship with the pokemon franchise.”

“Really? What’s my favorite pokemon?”

“You always say Vulpix, ‘because foxes are so cute’, but you your actual favorite is Bulbasaur. You also have a soft spot for Mimikyu”

“… I hate you”

“You love me, My Little Chameleon”

Lila didn’t know if Glamm would go on on her secret love of the My Little Pony Franchise, but, apparently it was just a comeback. Wait… Little Chameleon didn’t sound so bad, did it?

“So are you going to help this time?” Asked Glamm, making Lila pay attention to the tv, as the show they were watching switched to Nadja Chamack giving them a report of the latest Akuma. The Pigeon guy. Again. Lila made a face, but before she could say anything, Glamm spoke up. “I know you want your debut to be amazing, but, look at it this way: Akumas are unpredictable. Some look ridiculous and have the most amazing powers, while others look menacing and dark, and end up being pushovers. Mister Pigeon might not be the toughest, but you know what to expect, and you also have no experience, so while it will not be as spectacular as you want, it will be safe, and we can finally start building some rapport with Ladybug, not to mention start to get popular with the people of Paris”

Lila looked away. “I don’t know… that pigeon guy has appeared lots of times before.”

“Worst comes to worst, you’ll arrive to the Cure, introduce yourself, and prove you’re not an akuma”

“Ugh, FINE! But that guy needs therapy, not being beating up ten times in a row by some teenagers in brightly colored pajamas.”

“When all you have is a hammer…”

“… I get a sticky tongue for a weapon, not a hammer.”

Glamm shrugged, Lila rolled her eyes. “All right. Glamm, Tongue Lash!”

Glamm went inside the Miraculous, Lila’s earring, and her transformation started. She noted the pirouettes and bright colors, the rush of power and the feelings that transformed her. It was very different than when she was akumatized. She had to admit that with the akumatizations she felt more powerful and, to be honest, free of constrains, except for the anger directed at Ladybug, Adrien and everyone she felt worthless. But with the Miraculous, it was different. She felt the power, but without negative feelings. The rush felt nicer, like that time her mom took a day off and they got Ice Cream and…

Lila shook her head; this was not the time to senseless sentimentalisms. She took her tongue whip (which was more like a sticky hand) out of her belt and jumped out of her window (She noted that it was probably a bad idea to transform in her room, but what was done, was done)

In no time she reached the place of the battle, and managed to use her sticky tongue whip to trip Mr. Pigeon by tying his feet together. Ladybug took the distraction and reached for the akumatized object (Chat Noir was currently being attacked by pigeons). Ladybug wasted no time and broke the akumatized object, returning Mister Raimier to normal. As normal as Mister Raimier was, anyway. They hadn’t even used Cataclysm nor the Lucky Charm, which was a first for Ladybug, luckily, Mister Pigeon hadn’t destroyed anything this time. They just did some non magical clean up, while Lila introduced herself.

“Who are you?” Asked Chat Noir in a tone that Lila though was hostile, but after her tricks as Volpina, she couldn’t help but think that at least the Mangy Cat learned a lesson that time.

“I… haven’t decided on a name yet, actually.” She said, honestly. She felt weird being honest like that. As Glamm suggested, she was honest on her ‘origin story’… mostly. She offered the information before they asked to make it more believable and sympathetic. “Look, I know this is suspicious, but I swear, I have a Miraculous” She pulled her hair and showed them her earring. “My grandmother gave it to me, and it must have been repaired by one of the Miraculous Cure you casted. The Kwami of Perception, the Chameleon Glamm, told me the Black Cat of 300 hundred ago did a cataclysm on the Miraculous of my predecessor and broke it. They were still in the middle of the fight, and it ended up lost. I have no idea how my grandma ended up with it, but here we are”

The two heroes were silent. “Yeah, Black Cats seem to have problems trying not to break Miraculous.” Ladybug snickered. “As far as we know, you can’t be an akuma, and we do appreciate the help, but please understand that we will have to work together a couple of times before we trust you”

“If My Lady is okay with you, then I’m okay too” Chat offered. They both put their hands out, and “pounded it” with the newcomer. Lila felt strange doing it.

She returned home, noticing that Alya had been filming, and wondered how long it would take until she uploaded it into the Ladyblog, and how longer it would take to change it into the Chameleonblog… ChameNews… She seriously needed to work on the name.

“Glamm, tongue in” She transformed again into herself, and went to her desk for a pack of really cheap jelly beans for Glamm, who started devouring them. “I don’t understand how you like that garbage; I could easily get you better ones” she said, as she started brushing her hair in front of the mirror.

“I’m all about perception. They look rather nice, bright and colorful, but are actually bland and flavorless. Well, except the ones that taste vile, but still, it’s all about the presentation.”

Lila rolled her eyes while keeping brushing her hair. Not that she needed it, but she had to focus on something. She knew beforehand she was not going to like working with Ladybug and her glorified sidekick, but had to do it in order for their master plan of becoming Paris’ #1 hero in the heart of the people. But she felt… weird

Glamm looked at Lila with one eye and had the other in his jelly beans. They knew what she was thinking and why was she so mortified. People used to see her how she wanted to be seen before: A hero, a charismatic leader, a poor victim… her list was endless. But perception works both ways, and now she was also seeing people for what they are, and not how she wanted to perceive them. For the first time, Lila was seeing Ladybug as a hero.

#miraculous ladybug #ml au #Chameleon Lila #Chameleon Kwami #Lila Rossi #ml fic #OC Kwami #Another Kind of Chameleon

[wonjaekook]

One Midsummer’s Night

A/N: This is honestly one of the funnier tropes out there to me and I’m pretty happy that Renjun got it, even if this went in an entirely different direction than I originally thought it would… enjoy :)

21 Tropes: 2. There’s only one bed + bronze w/Renjun

Description: Of course, your vacation with the rest of Dream can’t go as planned.

Word Count: 6.5k

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: mild swearing

Thump. One final bump in the road. You blink to clear the drowsiness in your eyes as you finally, finally arrive at your destination. The first half of the trip had been miserable in the cramped van and you had begun to question your life decisions. Why did you choose to sit next to Chenle? He’s loud, the loudest out of the boys, and he insisted on proving that to be true for the first hour of the trip. Your only solace came in the form of Renjun to your other side, as he made idle chatter with you, but stayed quiet when you wanted to be quiet. It doesn’t matter anymore, anyways, because you’re finally at your hotel and you’re more than ready to just plop down in a comfy bed until dinnertime.

Mark, as the eldest, takes it upon himself to check you all into your rooms. You barely pay attention as you trail alongside the rest of them into the hotel lobby, up the elevator, through the hall, and finally to your room. While making the initial arrangements for the trip, the eight of you had already decided who would be rooming with who and, since there’s an odd number of guys, you know you’re with Renjun. That makes you slightly nervous, sharing a room with the boy you have a crush on, but you aren’t about to make a big deal about it, now or ever.

As all of the boys file into their respective rooms, Renjun unlocks yours. You follow him inside, moving to set your stuff down when you notice one big, big problem. All you can do is stand there and stare at it. “Renjun,” you say, trying to get his attention. He ignores you, peeking inside of the bathroom, the closet, glancing at the TV. “Renjun!”

“What?” He finally turns around, seeing you pointing at the single queen sized bed in the middle of the room. He instantly freezes before heaving a sigh. “Come on, Y/N.”

You all emerge into the hallway at about the same time, staring at each other. You speak first. “Do your rooms…”

“Have only one bed? Yeah.” Mark responds to your unfinished question.

“Everyone?” You say, uneasiness creeping up your spine. The boys all respond with nods.

“It’s fine, I guess? I don’t mind sharing with Hyuck, but…” Mark glances at the rest of you. Jeno and Jaemin, Chenle and Jisung all look at each other and shrug. You look at Renjun.

“No. No, we’re going to fix this.” He takes your wrist, tugging you back down the hallway with him towards the elevator and the lobby. After he lets go of your hand, you find yourself to be much more aware of your surroundings than you were coming up. Some of the rooms on your floor have ‘Do Not Disturb’ signs on them, some have noise filtering out, and some have doors that swing open and closed as people come and go. Overall, the hotel seems to be pretty busy. Renjun takes you down to the lobby hastily.

“Excuse me, but there seems to have been a mistake with our room,” he says politely to the host at the front desk. You stand beside him, not doing much besides providing moral support. You see her frown briefly before her face turns back into a perfect customer service mask.

“What seems to be the problem, sir?” He goes on to explain the single bed issue and her eyes dart over to you. “Are you not a couple?”

Brief panic flashes in Renjun’s eyes and you can feel yourself blush at the question. “No, no, no, we’re not a couple!”

She sighs, apologizing for her mistake before she begins typing something into the computer in front of her. A moment later, she looks back up at the two of you.“I apologize, but this is our busiest season and we’re completely booked. We don’t have any other rooms to put you two in.”

In that moment, he looks as if he’s ready to fight, so you rest a hand on his arm, tugging him back. “Renjun, it’s fine. You’re the pure, innocent boy, right?” You say it with a chuckle, but you can feel your own nervousness in the joke. You know that he isn’t and that he doesn’t even pretend to be around you, so he frowns even more deeply at the comment. On the other hand, a nervous sweat had started to crawl onto your back, contrasting the easy smile on your face. You’re already nervous enough around Renjun, so this is both a dream and a nightmare. At the same time, you have enough pride that you don’t want to embarrass yourself begging the other guys to switch, and you would end up sharing a bed with one of them anyways. You should have known it was a mistake to take a vacation with all boys. When you look over at Renjun still staring at the host with a frown on his face, you tug on his arm. “Renjun, please let it go. Please?”

The host apologizes again and you retreat back to your room with Renjun begrudgingly following. “Any luck?” Mark asks when you get back, and you shake your head in response. He shrugs before entering his own room.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Renjun starts, “so, I’ll sleep on the floor.”

You immediately refuse him, frowning. “Renjun, no. I… It wouldn’t make me uncomfortable. I won’t make you sleep on the floor. I have a better idea.” When you enter the room, you stand in front of the bed, scrutinizing it. He’s kind enough to let you pick which side you want, so you decide on the side that faces the window. “Now,” you say suddenly, catching his attention, “let’s establish our territories.”

“What are you…” He watches as you make a grand gesture towards the middle of the bed, setting a boundary.

“That’s my side, and that’s your side. You can’t cross the border without permission. Okay?” Your strange act makes him finally crack a smile about the situation and he raises his arm in a mock salute.

“Understood, General.”

Not long after you get settled, Jisung is knocking on your door to fetch the two of you for dinner. While you eat at some local restaurant, you all discuss the plan for the next few days - tomorrow will be a day to explore town, then a day at the beach, then a day just to relax since it’s supposed to rain, and, the last day, you would all have a little bit of time in the morning before you went home. Jisung mentions that the hotel has a firepit that they light up at night, so, after you all eat, you run to the store to pick up materials to make smores and head back there. Despite the full hotel, you’re luckily the only ones who had the idea to roast marshmallows. The air begins to cool off as the sun sets and you breathe in the ocean air. Though you’re not quite shoreside, it’s still close by and you can smell the salt in the air if you sniff carefully. As you gather around the fire pit with your friends, you can’t help but think that the long, painful drive and hotel room problems were worth it.

The fire crackles and casts long shadows as the eight of you sit around it, roasting marshmallows. Somehow, the conversation turns to secret telling as Jeno admits that he’s never had a smore before. Consequently, you all also try your hardest to make him the perfect smore for his first time. The first few secrets are exchanged as you huddle around the fire, competing to make the best one.

“Jaemin, it’s your turn! Confess your sins,” Donghyuck says, squishing his marshmallow, chocolate, and graham crackers together before taking a large bite.

“I spit in your food last week,” he admits easily, not pausing for even a beat. The other boy chokes on his snack and coughs violently as the rest of you laugh at him and Jaemin just smiles evilly.

“When the hell did you do that?!” Donghyuck finally manages to sputter out after he stops choking. Mark hits him on the shoulder.

“There are children here!”

“Hyung, we’re sixteen-” The familiar bickering starts again until, finally, Jaemin turns to you.

“I told my secret. Now, Y/N has to say something.”

You put your hand to your chin, scrounging through your memories before you finally think of something. “Hmm… no, I shouldn’t tell you guys.” You’re met with a chorus of disappointed groans from some and encouragement from others. Renjun leans in closer.

“It can’t be that bad. At least you didn’t poison someone like Jaemin,” Renjun presses, gesturing towards his group member, who appears mildly offended at the comment.

“Hey! I did not poison him, I was getting payback for when he stole my leftovers. Besides, some people would kill to have my spit.”

Jisung wrinkles his nose at the comment. “That’s so gross.”

“You know it’s true!”

“Nobody wants to hear-”

“Shh!” Chenle says, interrupting the bickering. “I want to hear Y/N’s secret!”

“It’s really not that exciting,” you try to backtrack, realizing that the boys would never let you live it down if you told them.

“Then, you should just tell us!” If they would ever agree on one thing, it would be this.

You sigh, relenting. Telling them couldn’t hurt that much. You avoid looking at your current crush as you begin. “Fine, fine. But don’t make fun of me, okay?”

“Oh, you know we’re going to make fun of you,” Jaemin says, a wicked smile on his face. You send him a joking glare, your eyes glinting in the firelight.

“Jaemin, I’ll tell your mom that you’re bullying me.” His mouth makes a small ‘o’ before he grabs your arm, looking at you with puppy eyes. Renjun’s eyes flicker over to the hold, but no one notices, all of them too enthralled by the drama happening in front of them.

“Please don’t call my mom. Y/N. Y/N!”

You stick your tongue out as the others snicker at him. “Don’t pick on me, then.”

“Don’t think you can get out of telling us your secret, Y/N! It’s time to fess up!” Donghyuck redirects the conversation and you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Okay, okay! I can’t believe I’m telling you guys, but… when I first knew him, I had a crush on Jaemin.” You look at the boy you’re talking about and you find him staring at you with wide eyes. His expression shifts from shocked surprise to doting affection in about five seconds, exploding along with noise from the rest of the circle.

“Aw, Y/N, that’s so cute!” He reaches over to pinch your cheek, a habit of his that you loved and hated, and you pout at him.

“It’s not cute! You were even more of a weirdo back then and I can’t believe I liked you!” He wraps his arms around you, crushing you in a hug.

“She’s right, you were even weirder then,” Jeno adds in. Jaemin shoots him a glare before he turns back to you.

“Aww, it’s okay, Y/N, you can confess your love to me now.”

You squirm in his grip, trying to get his hands off of you. “Jisung was right, you’re gross.”

He argues back about how he’s not gross, you just won’t face your feelings and accept his love, and you tease each other back and forth until you manage to shift the attention away from you and press the other boys to tell their secrets. Your shared laughter echoes on the little pavilion until a member of the hotel staff comes out to tell all of you that they have to put the fire out. There’s plenty of quiet snickers and playful shoving as you all make the journey back to your rooms, trying to keep your voices down to abide by quiet hours. A little later, you find yourself in bed, Renjun waiting for you to turn off the light. He looks softer than usual, sleep pulling at his eyelids and his hair down, his face freshly washed. Thankfully for your heart, he’s wearing a shirt. You pause before you flick off the light. “Goodnight, Renjun.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he hums before turning over, his back to you. With the light off, you both fall asleep easily.

The next day, you enter a seaside gift shop, on the hunt for a souvenir that suits you and can serve as a memory for the trip. The others are doing the same, but the shop is big enough that you quickly lose track of them, but you don’t mind. Browsing through necklaces, you find a shimmering blue one that catches your eye.

“That would look good on you,” you hear from a little farther down the aisle as you pick up the piece of jewelry. When you turn to look, you’re greeted with the sight of a very attractive boy. He seems to be about your age, his chiseled facial features only highlighted by his tanned bronze skin, with a perfectly sculpted body matching his face. If you could make an assumption, you would say he’s a local. Before you completely finish gawking at him, he speaks up again. “You from out of town?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, slightly put off by the fact that such an attractive guy is talking to you. “You’re local?”

You want to hit yourself for how dumb you think you sound, but he just smiles and chuckles, showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth. “Yup, I surf around here.”

“Will you be at the beach tomorrow?” You can’t help but ask, both wanting and not wanting to meet the charming and handsome boy again.

“Oh, for sure. There’s supposed to be some sick waves. Swing by and maybe I can teach you a little.” He glances at the necklace in your hand. “You should get that, though. It brings out your pretty eyes.”

You can feel yourself blush. “Thanks.”

“Do you want a tour around town? I’m free now if you’re-”

“Y/N, come on,” you hear from behind you. You turn to find Renjun waiting for you at the end of the aisle, an impatient look on his face, “we’ve been waiting for you.” His words confuse you because no one had told you anything like that, but you put the necklace back and begin to back away.

“Sorry, gotta go. My friends are waiting. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow?” You hope you don’t sound too rushed or awkward or, god forbid, desperate. Behind you, Renjun quietly seethes, the sight of that stranger eyeing you up irking him beyond belief. He knows he doesn’t have a claim on you or anything, but… He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation you have with the bronze boy before you’re nudging him and exiting the store with the rest of Dream. The rest of the day, he unconsciously sticks by your side. You can’t help but notice and revel in the attention from your crush and roommate, forgetting all about the surfer from the gift shop. As the sun begins to set and your group starts to head back, you glance over at him as he’s laughing at something Chenle said. Your heart skips a beat as you observe his profile, the sun catching on his hair, creating the illusion of a halo, and his eyelashes casting long shadows on his cheeks as he laughs. You rip your gaze away from him with a blush on your cheeks as he turns his head to meet it. You don’t know that, when he looks at you, he seems a very similar image and, like you, he can’t help how his heart skips a beat. 

That night, you sit in your opposite sides of the bed, idly scrolling through your phones, when you happen upon an old video of Jaemin from back when you first met him. “Renjun!” You exclaim, breaking the comfortable silence between you. “Look at this!”

When he leans over, his hand crosses your invisible border and you suddenly remember the rule you set the previous afternoon. “Hey, you crossed!”

He makes a face. “You told me to come look!”

“...fine. Truce.” He scoots the rest of the way over, shoulder brushing yours as you show him your video. The smile that pulls at his lips as he watches the video makes a pleasant feeling of warmth swell in your chest that lasts until you close your eyes an hour later. That night, you dream of holding hands and light-bringing smiles.

When you put on your swimsuit the next day, you can’t help but be a little bit nervous about the way you look. If Renjun sees you before you slip your cover-up on, he doesn’t say anything. You try to shove the feeling aside, but it lingers in the back of your mind as you make your way to the beach with all of friends, towels and related items in tow. However, the feeling is quickly forgotten as, a little while later when you’re separated from the boys, you hear the bronze boy’s voice from behind you again.

“You’re looking good today, babe.” The little pet name has you blushing and turning around to greet the boy. A pretty feeling rises in your chest to replace the previous doubt. You give him what you hope is a cute smile as you try not to gawk too badly at the sight of his perfectly toned body.

“Thanks. Here to surf?”

“You know it,” he says, lifting the surfboard in his hand for emphasis. “You ready for our lesson?” You giggle. “Are you ready for the challenge of teaching me?”

“I’m sure it won’t be a challenge, babe. It might just get a little… physical.”

“I…” The blush on your face deepens. You don’t notice as Renjun approaches from your side until he speaks.

“Y/N, who’s this?” He asks, pretending as if he doesn’t immediately recognize the guy who was flirting with you in the store yesterday.

“Depends,” the bronze boy answers, eyeing Renjun up and down, his tone dropping all playfulness, “Who are you?”

“I’m someone who doesn’t want to be chatting with you right now,” he says, eyes narrowed. Despite being physically smaller, his figure much more slight, he doesn’t back down from the challenge the surfer poses. All you can do is watch helplessly as the exchange happens.

“Good thing I wasn’t talking to you and I was talking to this lovely lady right here instead. So, if you’ll just leave us alone...”

“How about you leave us alone? She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Bro, I don’t know what your problem is-” The handsome stranger begins to say, but Renjun cuts him off.

“Listen, bro, she’s not interested. Go harass someone else.” The venom behind his words shocks even you, who’s used to his snappy remarks and clever insults. 

“Renjun…” Your voice comes out much smaller than it had been talking to the guy.

The guy in question, who you realize you don’t even know the name of, huffs, his chest rising and falling dramatically with his clear show of irritation. “Fine. I don’t have time for you kids. She wasn’t that cute, anyway.”

The pretty feeling in your chest wilts and dies, like a flower crushed under the heel of a boot, and your arms move to cross over your stomach, trying to hide away your body when you had been so happy to show it off before. You try to look anywhere but at Renjun, but you can feel his eyes on you. The way your shoulders sag and your posture shifts accompanied with the dejected look on your face almost has him feeling bad about the way he handled the situation. Pushing back the feeling, he turns back towards the spot where the others had gathered.

“Let’s go back, Y/N.” You drag your feet in the sand, suddenly not enjoying the burning hot feeling of the sun-warmed grains under your heels, but too upset to make the effort to lift each foot up properly. Nobody talks about the sad expression on your face or the tension between you and Renjun when you return. The unpretty feeling drags down your heart for the rest of the day, no matter how hard you try to push it back. Jaemin is quick to notice that you seem down, but even his familiar jokes can’t completely lift you back up.

The day seems to drag on until you find yourself in bed again, the silence between you and your roommate no longer as comfortable as it was the previous night. You turn off the light without a proper goodnight, lying with your back to him.

He’s never felt so disappointed with himself in his life. Well, maybe not for his entire life, but for a long while. He knows that he’s at fault for how you felt all of today, but he also can’t stand the thought of that idiot flirting with you like that. Maybe he could’ve handled the situation better, maybe not, but he knows that he has to apologize. “Y/N,” he says suddenly, not facing you, “I’m sorry for earlier.”

“I can’t believe you, Renjun.” Your voice is quiet as you also keep your back to him. “He was just being nice.”

“He was flirting with you!” He finds himself ready to argue again. Could you really have been that blind?

“And what’s so bad about that?” When he had begun to raise his voice, yours remains small. You hate arguing with him and this entire topic just hurts. You just want to sleep and hope the pain goes away by the time you wake up.

“You really want some idiot flirting with you? Even Lucas probably has more brains than him. Plus, he was a dick.” The more he pushes it, the more upset you feel. It’s not even that you’re that upset about this particular guy - he was a jerk - but it’s the principle of the thing.

“Maybe it’s nice to be flirted with sometimes.” Silence fills the room again before you grumble under your breath at him. “For someone who said they’re sorry, you’re really not sorry at all.”

“Okay, maybe I’m not sorry, then! You shouldn’t let guys flirt with you like that.”

“I guess you’re right. I’ll just be alone forever, then.” Bitterness fills your every word. He’s stupid and boys are stupid and it hurts too much to continue arguing with him. What makes him so insistent that other guys shouldn’t flirt with you when you’re almost certain he doesn’t even return your feelings? Thinking about it makes your head hurt.

You hear the blankets move as he turns to face you. “Y/N, that’s not what I meant…” When you don’t respond, he knows the conversation is over. It takes a long time for either of you to fall asleep.

The feeling doesn’t go away with sleep as you hoped it would.

“I’m not feeling well,” you say, staying under the blankets, “go without me.” You can’t bear the thought of being around Renjun today, not with your feelings in disarray. He hesitates for a moment. You don’t see as he opens his mouth, as if he wants to try to convince you to come, and you don’t see the apologetic look in his eyes. Without a doubt, he knows you’re avoiding him. He also knows that there’s not much that he can do to convince you. Begrudgingly, he tells you that he hopes you feel better and leaves to get breakfast with the others. Their voices fade down the hall and you’re sure they’ve walked away. That is, until you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/N, open up.” You hear Jaemin’s voice and stay where you are, hoping he’ll just go away. When he knocks again, more insistently this time, you drag yourself out of bed and open the door. Upon seeing your face, he coos, reaching out to squish your cheeks. “Your morning face is so cute.” When you don’t even try to fight him, he backs off, giving you a concerned look. “What’s wrong?”

“Why are you here? Go have breakfast with the others.” He pushes past you, letting himself into your room and shutting the door behind him.

“I’m here to check on you. Are you actually not feeling well?” He reaches up a hand to press against your forehead and you bat his hand away. Countering, he grabs it, dragging you over to the bed and sitting down with you. “You can talk to me, you know.”

Jaemin was your connection in Dream. Years ago, before this part of his life, he volunteered at the same animal shelter that you did. The two of you became instant friends and stayed that way, eventually leading you to where you are now. He still has the same big eyes that he did then, giving you a sense of comfort when you look into them now.

“I just wanted to be alone today,” you admit, hands resting in Jaemin’s. Not wanting to press much more, he just gives you a small smile and squeezes your hands.

“That’s okay. Thank you for telling me. Are you going to go out today?” You shrug in response. “Well, there’s this little garden that Jeno and I found two days ago just past the beach. It’s a little bit of a walk, but it’s really pretty and quiet. Good for being alone.”

Looking up from your hands, you do your best to force a small smile onto your face. “Thanks, Jaemin. You don’t know how much I appreciate you.”

He reaches out to pinch your cheek again and you dodge away, the smile becoming more genuine. His hand returns to yours and he studies them for a moment before looking back up at you. “Y/N, do you have feelings for Renjun? Is that what this is about?”

“I-” You’re cut off when the door opens, Renjun’s figure illuminated by the hallway light. His eyes dart down to your conjoined hands before you wrench them away, looking away from him.

“Ah, Injun! Why are you here?” Jaemin says nervously, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“This is my room and I left-” he walks to the nightstand, snatching his forgotten phone off of it. “-this here. I thought you forgot something. Why aren’t you in your room?”

“I was checking on my friend,” he says very pointedly, gesturing to you. “Do you want me to bring you back anything, Y/N?”

You shake your head in response, finding it hard to find your voice while Renjun is staring daggers into you and Jaemin.

He doesn’t like the ugly feeling of jealousy that swells in his chest. But, ever since you admitted that you had a crush Jaemin at one point, he can’t help it. The guy from yesterday and your argument the night before only amplifies it, too. All of that, combined with the fear that he really made you hate him with what he said to you yesterday, makes his chest tighten. He knows there’s only platonic feelings between the two of you now, but seeing how he held your hands like that his chest tighten in anger. He tries to keep the emotion out of his face as he watches Jaemin pat you on the head before he follows him out the door.

“There’s nothing between Y/N and I,” Jaemin says quickly once they’re in the hallway and the door is closed. Renjun quirks an eyebrow at his band member.

“Why are you telling me this? I don’t care.” He does care. He cares a lot, but he would never admit that to Jaemin. Luckily, he can see right through him.

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, I know you care and I know you like her. If you’re going to act jealous, at least be less obvious about it.” Before he can retort properly, they see the rest of their friends waiting for them just down the hall. Jaemin leans in so only he can hear. “And confess, idiot.” Renjun can only stare at his friend with wide eyes, his heart beating heavily in his chest.

You decide to take Jaemin’s advice. Dragging yourself out of bed, you clean up and head out before any of them can return from breakfast. You eat by yourself in some quaint cafe nearby before you wander off, only your phone and headphones on you. You find that the garden Jaemin mentioned is perfect, with a little bench that you can sit on in a corner surrounded by flowers. You almost wish you had a sketchbook or something with you so you could draw the pretty scenery. You can’t help but think that Renjun would really like this place and you almost reach for your phone to text him, but you stop. This time is for you. Closing your eyes, you put on music and drift in and out of sleeping, lying in a soft bed of grass.

You awaken to the sound of thunder. You pull your headphones out and look up, seeing that the sky had turned gray and stormy. In your rush of emotions, you had forgotten about the forecast for today. A shiver runs down your spine as you sit up, a cold wind passing over the garden. The coming storm cooled the air down considerably and you suddenly regret not bringing a jacket. With a sigh, you get up and begin your trek back to the hotel.

The rain starts before you even make it out of the garden. It starts as a light shower, but quickly turns into a heavy downpour and you find yourself running to the closest shelter you can find - a little awning outside of a store that had closed in anticipation of the bad weather. Miserably, you stand there, watching the rain come down. Your clothes are almost completely soaked at this point and your shoes squelch with every step. Pulling out your phone, you hope that you can send a text to one of your friends to come help you. As you take it out and peek the many missed calls and texts on your screen, you see the red battery health and the ‘1%’ before your phone dies in your hands. With a sigh, you return it to your pocket. Your day just went from bad to good to worse. You stare at the rain for a moment before realizing that it probably won’t be letting up anytime soon.

You’re about to step into the downpour when, through the rain, you hear the call of your name. It feels like a dream, seeing him come to you through the haze of the storm. From a distance, he seems princely, holding an umbrella over his head elegantly, his clothes barely touched by the rain, but, as he gets closer, you can see the scowl on his face. On Renjun’s end, he can tell that the awning you’re under barely covers you, most of your clothing soaked through, and he can see you shivering. As soon as he reaches you, he begins to fuss. “Where have you been? Do you know how worried we were about you? We’ve been calling you for an hour now, and it started pouring, and-”

As he continues, you realize that his anger is just a mask for concern and, inexplicably, you begin to laugh. It starts small, just a giggle, but then grows until you’re leaning over slightly, arms wrapped around your stomach. Your chest heaves with each loud bout of laughter, cutting him off. He gives you an incredulous look, but you can see the faint relief in his eyes as he stands there and watches you lose it. Finally, your laughter begins to subside and you find yourself teary-eyed, staring at him. He really does look like a prince. A very handsome, worried prince. “Let’s go back,” he says, not really waiting for a response before he wraps an arm around you, gathering you under his umbrella with him and stepping back into the rain. The pounding of the rain steadily grows softer until you find yourselves only treading through puddles left by the sudden downpour as a light shower falls. The warmth of his arm seems to radiate into your body, warming your skin, your muscles, your bones.

Even after you return to the room, shower, and change clothes, he continues to dote on you, asking you how you feel and making sure you drink water. He leaves for a little while and the sun sets on your fourth day. When he returns, he has food in his hands for you, as you missed lunch and dinner with the rest of them. He watches as you eat, picking up the occasional piece to force you to consume. Your mind races at the romantic stereotype of him feeding you, but you shove the thought to the side, focusing on warming up and getting food and water into your body. With the way he’s acting towards you now, your feelings get all scrambled up and you can’t help but feel like he’s trying to apologize for everything that happened. Despite the time that passes, you still feel a strange coldness about your body.

What feels like the blink of an eye later, you’re in bed, firmly situated under the blankets, and shutting the lamp at your bedside off. Yet, even with how tired you are, you can’t seem to fall asleep.

“You’re still cold,” Renjun says, watching you shiver under the covers. Faint moonlight streaming in through the window illuminates your figure.

“I’m fine,” you mumble through gritted teeth, trying to stop the shivering. He’s already done enough for you today - you don’t want to worry him more.

“Y/N, truce?”

You turn around to look at him, confused by the question. “What?”

“I’m asking for a truce.” He moves a hand from under the sheets, gesturing at the space between you. You have a feeling that he’s asking for more of a truce than for just the invisible boundary you’d put up on the first night of the trip.

“...okay. Truce.” A moment later, he shifts closer, wraps his arms around you, and pulls you against his chest. He has the pleasant scent of a fresh shower, mixed with what you can only call what smells like him. More importantly, he’s like an instant heat blanket, bringing relief to your tired body. Yet, while the warmth is a relief, you can’t help but tense up. He wouldn’t casually do this, right? You don’t want to read into it too much. Doing that has hurt you before - you know because you’ve been overanalyzing everything he’s done recently. But, the way he tucks your head under his chin and drapes his arm over you, weaving his hand in amongst your hair, has your feelings rising up intensely, swelling in your chest. If you were paying attention, you could have heard his own heartbeat pick up, too.

When he begins to speak, you feel his breath against your hair. “I wanted to talk… about yesterday.” You stay silent, not pulling away, and he takes that as a sign to continue. “I want to apologize. For real this time.”

“Renjun,” you say, softly, “it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he says. Without even looking, you can tell he’s frowning. “It’s not okay because I hurt you and you almost got hurt again today because of it.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you mumble against his chest.

“I’m not being dramatic! I’m not being dramatic because… because I really like you. And I don’t want to hurt you.” You feel him let out a shaky breath while you seem to forget how to breathe.

“Like, like-like?” You finally manage to say, not pulling out of his arms.

“Yes, like-like. Like, Y/N, I really want to date you. Like, I lashed out yesterday because I got jealous of that guy flirting with you when I want to be the only one allowed to do that.”

You want to cry and laugh and hug him all at once. Never, not in a million years, did you think he would like you back. “I like you, too,” you respond to the unspoken question quietly. “Like-like.”

If it’s possible, he pulls you closer.

“Can we stay like this?” You ask. He responds by humming positively, nuzzling his nose in your hair.

“Yeah,” he says, “and, just so you know, you did look good yesterday. And today. And every day.” He can feel you smile against his shirt.

“Thanks, Renjun. You’re not too bad yourself.”

Unlike the previous night, you fall asleep easily, warmed by his arms and the thought that you’ll have many more nights like this to come.

Quiet voices are what eventually pull you from your sleep. You try to ignore them, Renjun’s warm arms around you too comfortable for you to want to wake up just yet, but their words get clearer and clearer the more awake you get.

“I told you!”

“Donghyuck, shut up!”

Confused, you blink the sleep out of your eyes and see the faces of the rest of your friends staring down at the two of you. You jerk up, the covers falling down your body. Renjun groans from the rude awakening, reaching up a hand to rub at his eyes before he also sees them. “What the hell are you guys doing in here?!” You yelp, overwhelmed by surprise and embarrassment.

“Oh, thank god, you’re still wearing clothes,” Donghyuck remarks, ignoring your question. Jeno elbows him painfully and he rubs at his side. “Ow!”

“Don’t be gross,” Jeno warns, slightly fearful of your and Renjun’s combined wrath.

“I- We- You weren’t responding to your calls, so I used the extra key I picked up for your room on the first day to come make sure you weren’t dead or something,” Mark manages to stutter out, obviously flustered by your proximity with his group member. You spare a glance at Renjun only to see him redder than you’d ever seen him before. It’s oddly endearing and, given different circumstances, you would’ve cooed and called him cute.

“Great,” Renjun says sarcastically, still red in the face. “So, now that you’ve confirmed we’re not dead, can you get out?”

The boys quickly turn to leave, but Jaemin stops halfway to the door, glancing back. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?” You say, curious.

“How do you think he knew where to find you yesterday? I’m a romantic genius.” With that, he’s gone.

The ride back to Seoul is easier than away from it, if not slightly more solemn. You’re sad to be torn away from your vacation with your best friends, but more than happy about the weight of Renjun’s hand in your own beside you. You’re happy to have him beside you - even if his shoulder is a little bony.

The pretty feeling from two days previous rises in your chest again. And, this time, it stays there.

#nct imagine #neowritingsnet #renjun imagine #nct fluff #nct angst #nct imagines #nct scenario #nct scenarios #renjun imagines #renjun scenarios #nct renjun imagine #nct renjun scenario #nct renjun fluff #nct renjun angst #nct dream imagine #nct dream scenario #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #wonjaekook #tagging is so hard how do people do this

[screamingatanemptyroom]

I Can’t Eat Love pt 21

Sorry for the long break guys, but here’s part 21!

Master post linked here

Enjoy!

__________________________

After I finished sewing, I said goodbye to Marile and walked towards the shop exit. I was preoccupied with my thoughts, and wasn’t focused on where i was stepping. Which led to me almost running into the young woman who was waiting  right outside the door.

I stopped just before slamming into her, taking in her appearance with a forced smile. “Hello, Edith.”

How had she found me? After a few moments of thought I quickly realized the answer to my question was easily found in my own home. 

I’m going to have to deal with Angela sooner rather than later.

Edith stepped forward, interrupting my thoughts. Her face was delicately pale, her smile complicated as if happy to see me but worried at the same time. It was very pitiful, and she looked more like a wronged heroine confronting her betrayer, rather than the villain that she was. “I missed you, Lenora! I wanted to visit sooner but I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me… after…”

Her voice broke, and she lightly dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, actual tears forming in her eyes. 

What a marvelous performance. I really felt like I should be applauding.

“After you ran around with my fiancé behind my back?” I tried unsuccessfully to hide the amusement in my voice. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

She was now sobbing loudly, catching attention from those walking past. “Can you not forgive me? I never meant to hurt you! I just… fell in love! I cannot help loving him!” Even in tears her face remained pretty, her expressions showing mild sadness while maintaining a noble look. I wondered idly how many times one would have to practice crying to be able to look attractive while convincing at the same time.

I sighed quietly. “I wish the two of you can be always together.” As long as you stay far away from me!

“Are we still friends?” She stopped crying her gaze hopeful. A few people had stopped to watch the scene, the mood clearly siding with the girl who was crying. I felt many angry stares in my direction and wanted to laugh out loud. How many of these strangers would realize that the girl who they thought was being bullied was the one who had done the betraying?

Feeling tired, I forced a kind expression on my face. “Of course.” I felt no unease agreeing to this. After all, “friend” was only a meaningless term. There was no reason to hesitate applying it to such a person.

I invited her into my carriage and with a cheerful laugh she agreed. All signs of her previous tears were gone and she once again was pretending to be the gentle supportive friend. I was honestly shocked at how quickly she had switched roles. If I had honestly been in love with the prince still, did she think I would be over it so fast? She was being even more shameless than she had acted in my previous life.

There must be something else she wants.

Hiding my curiosity, I smiled blandly at her, pretending to listen as she chattered on about the latest dance she had learned. Edith at least had enough tact not to bring up the Prince… or so I thought.

“So, I am holding a party next week.” She started fidgeting in her seat.

“I see.” I nodded, my mind wandering to tomorrow’s schedule.

“There… I will be announcing that the Prince and I intend to be married. “

Calmly, I looked up at her fake-timid smile and couldn’t help but ask. “So it’s official then? You are engaged?”

Obviously the stupid prince hadn’t told her he had proposed to me again. I felt a brief flash of optimism. Perhaps my rejection had been enough for him to disregard the King’s order completely?

“Well, not officially, yet.” Her lower lip stuck out as she pouted, whether at her words or at my lack of reaction I was unsure. “Ronan has told me to keep quiet about it for a little while to protect your reputation, but by then I’m sure it will be fine!”

Protect my reputation? I barely held in my laughter. Since when has he cared at all about that? I forced myself to nod seriously.

Edith reached out, grabbing my hands, not noticing my discomfort at the contact. “I want you to be there, to support me.”

__________________________

“Please be there.” Edith begged, her hands holding mine.

“I don’t know…” I trailed off, hesitant. It had been over a month since the engagement was broken. Mother had grown angrier by the day, Father had become increasingly withdrawn, anxiety etched on his features as debtors came to call day after day. I was still hurt over what Edith and Ronan had done, unsure if I wanted to subject myself to a party where I would show my support for the girl who had replaced me…

“Oh, but you must be there! We’re friends!” She cried bitterly, her tears making me feel guilty for causing her distress.

I was still afraid to lose her approval, even after everything that had happened. She was the only one who seemed to care about me. I hadn’t seen or heard from the Queen since, all my letters had gone unanswered. She obviously had lost interest in me now that I was no longer going to be her daughter in law. Edith was my only friend left.

And it was only a party.

“I’ll go.”

__________________________

 “I’ll go.” My simple words seemed to shock Edith, who was obviously prepared to argue longer. Shaking herself, she smiled happily, clapping her hands with excitement.

“That’s wonderful! It wouldn’t have been a proper party without you there!” She reached out and hugged me, “I’m so glad we’re still friends!”

“I’m glad too.” I smiled as I pulled back, glad that the slightly shadowy interior of the carriage prevented her from seeing my face too clearly. If she had, she might have taken back the invitation. She might have canceled the party and fled the city.

It would have been the smart thing to do. 

But instead she took my expression for genuine, and continued to talk happily about plans for the party as the carriage moved forward.

I kept silent, nodding occasionally, pretending to listen as my brain quickly began drawing up plans.

This party could be useful.

__________________________

 “The Prince’s staff have been trying to spread rumors all throughout the nobility.”

Rig paced back and forth, his expression showing his displeasure. Hallers watched silently from the sidelines, his face unreadable. “How idiotic is this man?!” 

I raised an eyebrow. “The prince? He’s an idiot, but this plan is fairly well thought out… at least for him.”

“But how is the prince lashing out like this supposed to convince you to marry him?” Throwing up his hands, the man slumped in a chair, shaking his head. “I can’t see this accomplishing anything but convincing you to stay far away from him.” 

“That’s because you think like a normal, decent human being.” I smiled, tapping my temple. “In the world of nobility, marriage is more of a business deal. As a Duke’s daughter, my worth is determined by my ability to tie my family to another.” Leaning back, I sighed. “Normally, I would have been completely taken out of consideration for a match after having an engagement broken with royalty.”

 Rig thought about that. “But your reputation was actually not too bad after…”

“Exactly. The Queen’s actions, my own reputation, and my wealth might have been enough to convince some of the braver families to try to ally through marriage. But now?” I shrugged. “With rumors that I was unfaithful, any man who tried to marry me would be thought to be the one I was cheating on the Prince with. Even if they avoided that, I would still be considered a loose woman, a stain on their reputation.”

 I laughed, a bitter sound. “No man would want his name tied to mine now. The Prince has ensured through this move that my only option to marry is to crawl back to him.” 

Rig and Hallers stared at each other. “I don’t think it completely dissuaded everyone…” Rig started to talk, a small smile on his face. “After all there’s…”

Hallers interrupted. “He’s not approved... yet.”

“I thought you liked him now?” Rig glanced over at me and then back to the butler.

“Liking him is not the same as approval for this role.” Hallers face hadn’t changed, but all of a sudden I found myself shivering from the coldness in his eyes, even as I struggled to follow their conversation.

Rig’s smile widened. “Of course, anyone trying to step up to the task would have to prove their worth. We can’t just give her up to anyone.”

Hallers chuckled, an evil sound.

I interrupted their plotting, trying to bring the conversation back to one I understood. “Not that any of the Prince’s plans matter.” I shrugged. “I have no plans to marry. So he can destroy my reputation all he likes.”

“Actually it’s not spreading well.” Rig looked at his own notes, confused. “For some reason, especially among the female nobility, the rumor tends to die out quickly, like they’re too afraid to talk.”

I smiled at that, repeating the threat that Marile had made a week past, and the other men smiled too.

“Simple, but effective.” Rig praised. “I like her methods.”

 “Well, it will really be put to the test at Edith’s party tonight.” I stood up at my desk, stretching. “We’ll see if they continue to hold off on then.” 

“Why are you even going to that? You realize she’s trying to use you to legitimize her relationship to the prince, right?” Rig rolled his eyes. “If you are publically seen supporting her, how can anyone else blame HER for her actions?”

I grinned. “Actually I’m going for two very different reasons.” I held up one finger. “First, as the Prince is currently under His Majesty’s orders to marry me, I truly am curious to see if Ronan will allow a public declaration of their relationship to happen. I’m actually hoping that she manages to do it.”

Rig laughed at that. “That would piss the King off, something awful!”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Then what’s the second reason?”

I grinned. “I have a plan to carry out.” Handing him a note with instructions, I watched his eyebrows slowly raise as he read through it. “Can you have it arranged before the end of the party?”

“I- I can, but why…?”

I smiled wickedly. “I was going to cause trouble anyways… might as well blame it on somebody else while I’m at it.”

__________________________

 The party was beautiful. The Countess of Erand was never one to hold back from extravagance, especially on behalf of her daughter. I took in the glittering ballroom with an appreciative glance, smiling as I noticed how many of the noblewoman were wearing gowns from “Prosperity” tonight. Edith’s party had granted my business a small fortune in orders. I wished I could thank her.

As I entered with Henry by my side, I heard a small amount of whispering, caught a few sidelong glances, but that was all. It seemed that even the men were restrained, likely by the hands of their wives who were terrified that Marile would hold a husband’s gossiping tongue against them.

“Terrible.” Henry muttered, looking around. At first I thought he as referencing the few gossiping nobles, but of course he hadn’t even noticed. “How could they treat the poor geraniums like this?!” He stared mournfully at the flower decorations, which admittedly looked slightly bruised and wilted. 

“Shameful.” I whispered, playing along. “Should we steal the decorations?”

“No, it’s too late for these poor dears… but I’m taking their bush with me.” His eyes were fierce.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

 “Nope. I’m saving it.” He spoke, his voice filled with righteousness and clear conviction. “I have no choice.”

I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “Just make sure no one sees you, please?”

He chuckled grimly, rubbing his hands together. “Of course.”

“What’s Henry planning?” Nate walked up, dressed up in a beautiful waistcoat, looking at my cousin’s face with suspicion.

“He’s planning to liberate their geraniums.” I muttered, grabbing the young man’s arm and studying it closely. 

“L-lenora.” He stuttered. “I - ..”

“What is this coat made of? This weave…”I pulled slightly on the sleeve, nodding with approval the softness of the fabric.

He sighed. “Should have realized.” Grumbling under his breath, he added. “Please, Lenora, release my arm before you cause a scandal, I promise to send my coat to you so you can study it.”

I looked around, realizing that this action would likely not have helped my shifting reputation, fortunately around the same time the prince had arrived, and it appeared that no one had been paying attention to me. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, I looked around for the food, my eyes lighting up at the sight of the table. It was filled with different pastries and other delicious treats, reminding me of the prince’s birthday party.

But I had a job to do. I felt my the corners of my mouth turn downward as I cursed my scheming ways. What if all the food was taken by the time I finished my plot?

 Nate, noticing my longing glances and sad sighs, chuckled. “I’ll get you a plate, Lenora. Go do whatever plots that need done.”

Startled, I looked up at him, taking in his complacent smile with confusion. “How did you…?”

“I pay attention.” He bowed politely, his hand on his heart and a smile in his eyes, before he turned towards the table, walking away.

I watched him move further away, my thoughts chaotic.

“Nate would be a good choice.” Henry spoke quietly, again causing me to jump. 

“W-what do you mean?” I felt a moment of panic, my stomach hurting briefly. “A good choice for what?”

Henry stared at me. “I’m going to recruit him to help me steal the geranium. What were you thinking?”

I shook my head, “Nothing. I wasn’t thinking of anything.” And with that, I escaped

__________________________

I walked towards Edith, a smile on my face. She saw me, and threw her hands out, delighted.

“LENORA!” Many heads turned towards us as we crossed the room to meet up.

As I moved closer, I bumped into a young lady, nearly losing my balance. I had to reach out and grab her, to stabilize myself. We smiled briefly at each other, before I moved on, apologizing with a single word and then continuing my course towards Edith. 

She and I embraced, and the whispers from the crowd around us increased slightly.

I realized the source as a single figure stepped out though the crowd towards us 

Ronan.

The three of us stood there, smiling at each other, each of us wearing a false expression.

What an interesting party. All of us plotting behind the scenes, none of us truly knowing the moves of the  others.

Edith, who was trying to use my good reputation to legitimize her actions and her relationship with the prince.

Ronan who was trying to destroy my reputation to force me to agree to an engagement with him.

And me. Who came for a reason that didn’t involve either of them.

Smiling brightly at the two, I hugged Edith once more, whispering. “Good Luck.” Before she could ask me what I meant, I stepped away.

 “I wish you both every happiness.” My voice was pleasantly neutral.

 Ronan’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t think that you can…”

“Thank you.” Edith grinned, interrupting. “Your blessing means the world to us!”

“Does it?” I grinned, seeing Ronan fuming, and walked away.

“Done with your plots?” A plate was held out in front of me by Nate, and I took it, looking it over with appreciation.

“Good choices, thank you. 

He shrugged. “I asked Hallers, and was given very specific and detailed instructions.” Wincing, he added. “I have a feeling I’m in for a very long lecture regarding your preferences in the near future.”

“I’m sorry, I can tell him to hold off.”

“No need.” He held up a hand, smiling. “I told you I like cooking right? Might as well cook something I know you’ll like.”

I took a bite of the first pastry, savoring it. “This is amazing.”

Nate laughed. “Who knew that a pastry was all it took to impress you.” Pausing, he leaned closer, whispering. “So what was it you passed on to the young lady? 

I paused in my eating, trying to hide my shock. “To Edith? I didn’t…”

“No, not her.” He grinned. “The young lady you pretended to bump into on your way over.” 

“Was it too obvious?” I worried for a moment that my skills from my previous life had gotten rusty. 

“Only because I was watching closely. No one else would have caught it.” 

Breathing a short sigh of relief, I grinned. “Good. Otherwise there would be no point to coming to this party.”

“Food’s not bad.” Nate shrugged, picking a pastry off my plate and eating it, “Company could be better.” He pointed in the direction of the other half of the room, and I followed his gaze, sighing.

Edith and Ronan were standing closely together, flirting, smiling, toughing each other frequently. There were a few odd stares in their direction, but the pair didn’t notice, too wrapped up in their own world.

“Does it bother you?” Nate asked quietly

“Not the actions, just the indecisiveness.” I shrugged. “He wants me to marry him to appease his father, but he wants to pretend nothing has changed with Edith. He obviously has forbidden her from announcing the relationship, which was the entire point of this party for her.”

“Selfishness is a powerful motivator.” He watched me for a few moments. “Do you feel sorry for her?”

“Not really. They both value the position, the crown over the person they proclaim to love. It’s hard to claim one is the injured party when each other them is using the other.” I turned to Nate with a smile. “Let’s stay out of it.”

“Sounds good to me.” With that, Nate asked me to dance, and the party moved on.

I danced several times with Henry, ignoring his muttered plant related plots, and with a few other noblemen who had obviously not heard the rumors yet. The party was drawing to a close, when…

 “WHERE IS SHE?!” The Earl of Beral shouted, his face bright red with rage as he searched around the party.

I looked around the room slowly, and sure enough, Lady Erica, who had been dancing and socializing at the party, was nowhere to be found.

The Countess of Erand and Edith stepped forward in the sudden hush, the crowd parting to let them through.

“Perhaps she is taking a rest.” Edith’s mother tried to calm the man. “I’ll ask the servants to check…” 

“I’VE ALREADY CHECKED, SHE’S GONE! I BET YOU SHE RAN OFF WITH THAT TRAITOR FROM THE EASTERN GUARD!” He glared at Edith, his words laced with suspicion. “She spoke with you quite a few times tonight, what did she say to you?” 

Edith looked confused. “Nothing important, just fashion, the weather…”

“She couldn’t have done this alone, you helped my fiancé to run off!” He glared at the two women. 

Edith looked frustrated. “Why would I do that?”  

“Perhaps she paid you! I don’t know!” The older man threw up his hands. “But she just so happens to disappear from your party…. I know you had a hand in this!” 

Edith shot a pleading look over to Prince Ronan, who was watching from the sidelines, but he simply shook his head, refusing to speak. The Earl was extremely wealthy and well connected. He was also one of the Prince’s greatest supporters. Ronan wouldn’t risk alienating him. Not even for a woman he loved. 

“Coward.” Nate whispered under his breath. 

“I swear I had nothing to do with your fiance’s disappearance!” Edith then began to cry, her tears drawing sympathy from the crowd.

 The earl stepped back, his face bleak. “Very well. But I won’t forget what you’ve done tonight.” 

With that, he was gone.

The room collectively let out a sigh of relief with his retreat, but the mood of the party was definitely broken. As people prepared to leave, Nate grinned at me. “Strong work, rescuing a damsel in distress.”

 I kept an innocent expression. “I don’t know what you mean, I was just here to enjoy a party.”

“So I assume that’s where the travel papers I had made went to?”

I nodded, and he laughed.

“Starting a new store branch in Tilendria with an escaped noblewoman and a deserting captain… you never do things as expected do you?”

“Maybe not as YOU expect.”

“Well, at least now, you have a reason to come visit me in Tilendria.” His smile was bright, “You should at least check in on your store occasionally, right?” 

I held up my hands helplessly. “Tilendria’s a big country. Even if I go check on the store, I can’t guarantee we would see each other.” 

“That reminds me….” He passed me an envelope with a grin. I took it, feeling some exasperation.

“You and your envelopes. What is it now?”

“Information regarding land for sale in Tilendria.” He smiled. It’s in the Capital, right in the heart of the city, perfect for a business. You said you were opening up a new branch, so I asked around.”

I sighed. “You can’t keep doing me favors.”

“Oh, it not just a favor, this definitely benefits me, in many ways. After all, you’ll pay taxes right?”

“Yes, but what does that…?”

“Oh, there’s the signal!” He grinned, turning away. “It’s time for the flower heist!” 

Groaning, I turned away, and prepared to leave the party. Sensing an angry stare at my back, I turned to the side to catch Ronan’s gaze. He seemed bitter, likely upset that the rumors he had started hadn’t affected me at all. I smiled at him, allowing him to see the mockery in it, and walked away. 

In the carriage ride home, Henry clutched the large flowery bush, ignoring the wrath of Hallers at dirtying the carriage. I stared out the window, thinking things over.

Lady Erica had successfully eloped with her Captain. I was happy to have that out of the way, even more so that suspicion had been cast on someone else besides me. I remembered that man’s ruthlessness in my last life, and had no desire to face off with him again in this one.

I have enough enemies; let someone else deal with him for a change.

With the failure of the rumors to bring me around, I knew that Ronan would switch his strategy soon. My mind flipped through the possibilities, unsure of which route he would take. But i would get some sleep tonight and think about it further in the morning. 

But as I entered my house, and saw the stranger sitting in the visiting room, I realized that he had struck much sooner then I had expected.

#writing #i can't eat love #second chance #second life #it's 4am #but i got carried away #oops