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lgbtfairytailnet · 4 years

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Lucy x Juvia, bonding time for Anonymous

Juvia took a deep breath, preparing herself for what she was about to do. It went against everything she had felt so far… but that was what Fairy Tail was all about, right?

The thought calmed her, and reassuring herself once more that she was doing the right thing, the Water Mage walked steadily over to the table where Lucy Heartfilia and Lisanna Strauss sat laughing and joking. However, the conversation fizzled out as soon as Lucy caught sight of Juvia, a look of mild worry dampening the blonde’s features. It was natural, Juvia supposed, given the way she had treated the Celestial Spirit Mage who’d shown her nothing but kindness; yet it still left an aftertaste like curdled milk.

“Juvia!” Lucy said in a rather strained voice, putting on a smile. “Is this about Gray?”

“Lucy, that’s no way to greet her!” Lisanna chided, the look in her eyes knowing. She tilted her head up to meet Juvia’s, blue locking on blue, and smiled. “Hello, Juvia. I assume Lucy’s wrong?”

Juvia just nodded, her face colouring at both Lucy’s words and Lisanna’s. Lucy had every right to assume what she had, but the way Lisanna had stood up for her… it made her feel as if she belonged.

“See?” Lisanna turned back to Lucy, poking the blonde in the ribs with a reproving look. Lucy flinched and looked apologetically up at Juvia.

“Well!” The Strauss girl clapped her hands and smiled. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.” And she sauntered off, not looking back. Juvia decided to fill Lisanna’s spot after a moment of hesitation, sliding onto the bench besides Lucy.

“Juvia…” she began rather haltingly, unsure how to phrase herself. “Juvia…”

“Yeah?” Lucy looked concerned, reaching out a hand to place over Juvia’s comfortingly. Despite everything… Juvia’s heart warmed at how genuinely kind Lucy was.

“Juvia…” she started again, gathering some confidence. “... wanted to… start over. Juvia’s been despicable to you, especially about Gray-sama - but Juvia understands that it caused her to behave in a truly awful manner towards you. Juvia would like to… instead, start over… by asking for some relationship advice from you, and maybe even - being a friend to you like you have been to me!”

She bowed as she finished her little speech, not daring to look up for fear of being disappointed by Lucy’s expression. Perhaps she’d be angry? Insulted that Juvia would treat her like she had and then come apologising?

Then warm arms pulled her into a tight hug and Juvia felt her entire body relax into Lucy’s hug as the words were whispered into her ear, “Of course I accept your apology. I’ve always considered us friends!”

Juvia didn’t understand the fluttering in her chest at the last sentence, nor the sudden leaden weight in her stomach, but she couldn’t help smiling happily as she pulled away from Lucy.

Lucy put her hands on her hips, looking Juvia up and down with bright interest in her eyes. “All right, then, spill! What sort of relationship advice are you looking for? I’m assuming it’s about Gray?”

Juvia shook her head. “Not really. Just… general advice. Juvia knows that Gray-sama - that Gray-san - is with Natsu-san… and has realised that she prefers women. She is afraid that she hurt Gray-sama with her advances, and wants to be better about it.”

Lucy hummed. “That much is true,” she admitted bluntly. “You did make Gray a bit uncomfortable.”

“A bit is an understatement, Juvia would say,” Juvia whispered, face bright red.

Lucy laughed loudly, slapping Juvia on the back; she wheezed from the harsh contact. “It’s okay. Well… it isn’t, really, but don’t worry about it for now. You want my help in relationships, right? Especially with girls?”

Juvia nodded, still cherry-faced.

Lucy grinned. “Then you came to the right person - I’m decent enough and experienced enough at picking up girls. So… what sort of advice are you looking for?”

“Whatever Lucy-san knows!” Juvia said quickly. For some reason, she didn’t want this to be just one talk…

Lucy looked thoughtful. “That’ll take a while…” she hummed. “A few weeks? You’ll need hands-on advice, after all...”

Juvia’s heart leapt at the prospect of more time with Lucy. “That sounds perfect,” she said eagerly. “When can we start?”

“How about next Monday?” Lucy suggested brightly, unfazed by Juvia’s strange enthusiasm. “I don’t have any Jobs then. We can go shopping for some cute clothes and talk relationships.”

“Great,” Juvia replied happily, barely noticing the way Lucy stared after her as she went to take a Job, or the soft sigh that left the Celestial Spirit Mage’s lips.

Monday couldn’t come fast enough. Juvia spent the rest of the week in a blissful haze, so excited for the date she’d planned with Lucy. She was going to have a full day with the beautiful Celestial Spirit Mage all to herself! It would be so much fun.

It never crossed her mind that she was more eager to spend time with Lucy than for the advice she had sought earlier - or that she’d called it a date at all.

After an hour agonising over what to wear, Juvia finally stepped out of her house dressed in a smart blue shirt and dark pants. Biting down on her lip - she’d forgone makeup, deeming it too unnecessary for a simple outing - she made her way to her destination, patting her hair to make sure it was in place and hoping she wasn’t late. As she rounded the corner to the spot they’d agreed to meet, a pretty blonde in overalls came into view, the sight tugging her lips up into a smile.

“Lucy-san!” Juvia called, checking the time and sighing in relief as she saw it was just past the time they’d agreed to meet. Lucy whirled, smiling brightly when she spotted Juvia - a little burst of sunshine exploded in Juvia’s chest at the action, and a skip found its way into her step as she walked towards Lucy.

“Juvia!” Lucy exclaimed, drawing Juvia into a quick hug. She released her, holding her by the shoulders and eyeing her outfit with an appraising look.

“You’ve got style. Casual, yet just formal enough for first dates.” she said with a grin. “I won’t need to do too much work here.”

Juvia’s cheeks reddened, her mind caught on just one word. “D - date?” she stuttered.

Lucy smiled. “We’ll make this a practice date!” she explained cheerfully. “A dry run of sorts. And it’ll be fun, too! I haven’t been out with a friend in ages.”

Practice date… why did the words leave a hole in Juvia’s chest? She ignored it and followed after Lucy, who was already skipping down the street to her favorite shops. It had been so long since she’d just let loose and had fun. All this war and fighting had taken its own toll on Juvia’s worldview - it was nice to have a sheltered, fun outing to clothing stores and restaurants for once.

A few hours later, and Juvia's feet hurt from all the walking, despite the fact that she had chosen to wear flats instead of Lucy’s more impractical heels. They had flitted from shop to shop and bore bags full of clothes and shoes, Lucy explaining what was best to wear on a date and how best to make your move. Juvia was exhausted; yet Lucy was still lively and full of energy, dancing around like a true Fairy.

“Where to next?” she questioned, the late afternoon sunlight hitting her brown eyes. Juvia swallowed, feeling as if she were drowning in the depths of Lucy’s irises. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Luckily, her stomach rumbled just on cue. Juvia flushed with embarrassment, but mentally thanked it for providing a response and distracting Lucy from the fact that she had been staring into her eyes.

“Ah, you’re hungry!” Lucy winked. “We haven’t eaten yet, have we?”

Juvia shook her head mutely.

Lucy smiled. “I know a great ice-cream place - let’s go! Ice-cream is always romantic for dates!”

“Ice-cream…? For lunch?” Juvia wondered, but Lucy was already dragging her down the street, and her arm would pop out of her socket if she stayed still any longer. So she followed behind the Celestial Spirit Mage, who was practically running, and pretended to herself that she wasn’t silently appreciating the attractive curve of Lucy’s hips.

The ice-cream shop was brightly lit and small, and as the girls stepped in it was as if they had been transported to another world. It was soft, homely and traditional; nothing like the bustling world just outside the rustic wooden door. The comforting smell of vanilla hit Juvia’s nostrils, and she felt almost in a dream as they headed to the counter.

“One butterscotch,” Lucy ordered with a friendly smile - clearly she was a regular, if the kindly look the counter-woman gave her was any indication - “and what would you like, Juvia?”

“Oh!” Juvia stuttered, startled out of her comfortable daze. She flushed and began to peruse the choices. “Well… the… the chocolate cinnamon… seems nice…”

“One of those, too!” Lucy added, giving Juvia a sunny smile. The counter-woman nodded and scooped the ice-cream, handing each to the respective girl - Juvia fumbled for her wallet, but Lucy waved a hand, saying, “My tab! Watch and learn, Juvia: this is how you treat a woman!”

Dear God, it was almost as if they were on a real date!

Juvia could do nothing but weakly protest, yet Lucy coolly rode over her feeble dissent and paid for the food. Once she was done, she grabbed Juvia’s wrist and led her to a table in the corner, next to the window where they could see the cobbled street outside.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked. Juvia nodded.

“Yes. It’s so… warm.”

They both knew what she meant. Lucy smiled at her, and that smile was just as warm (if not warmer) than the entire cafe. Fireworks went off in Juvia’s mind, and all she could think was Lucy’s smile, Lucy’s lips, Lucy’s laugh, Lucy’s eyes. Lucy, Lucy, Lucy.

Her cheeks heated, and to distract herself from her thoughts she took a tentative lick of her dessert-lunch. The ice-cream was delicious - enough to throw Juvia into an entire new utopia.

“This is amazing!” she exclaimed, kitten licks turning into hungry bites. For once, she didn't care that she was making a mess; it was just too good for her to bother.

Lucy watched her with a wistful smile. Juvia, lost in her food-topia, didn’t notice.

Once they were both done (and once Juvia had cleaned herself up) Lucy set her hands on the table, covering Juvia’s own. Her finger brushed Juvia’s knuckles in what was almost a tender caress but not quite - something in Juvia thrilled at the touch.

“I…” Lucy began slowly. Juvia met her eyes, trepidation welling in her chest. “I… Juvia, correct me if I’m wrong, but…”

“But?” Juvia prompted, heart fluttering.

“Do you want this…” Lucy swallowed, colouring. “To be more than… just a practice date?”

Juvia inhaled sharply, shock filling her like ice water.

Do I want this to be more than a practice date?

The question evoked feelings in her that she had been ignoring from the start. The thoughts that Lucy was simply stunning, the excitement to spend time with her rather than get relationship advice, how she had noticed the elegant sway of Lucy’s hips and felt like she would explode whenever the other girl smiled at her… all of it…

Oh, hell, she liked Lucy. She liked Lucy a lot.

And in that instant, she knew her answer. Juvia didn’t think as it tumbled out of her lips - she was done deliberating every decision she made. She was a member of Fairy Tail now: and Fairies always plunged into things headfirst.

“Yes.”

Lucy looked at her for a long moment. Juvia felt afraid; what if she’d moved too fast? What if she’d freaked Lucy out? What if -

Then Lucy was leaning forward, her breath hot and sweet against Juvia’s nose, and she was whispering, “So can we make this a real date and seal it with a kiss?”

Juvia’s breathing grew erratic; it was all she could do to nod enthusiastically. Then soft lips, sweetened by ice-cream, covered her own, and Juvia lost herself in the endless sky that was Lucy Heartfilia. They could have kissed for five seconds or five hours; time didn’t exist between them, not to Juvia at any rate. It felt like forever and yet nothing at all.

When Lucy pulled away, she was red in the face. “I…” she started to stutter. “I…”

Juvia was the one to grin this time. “Does Lucy-san want to be Juvia’s girlfriend?” she offered boldly, a sudden bravery filling her.

Lucy grew redder, and it was her turn to nod mutely. Juvia smiled brightly and took Lucy’s hand in hers, dropping a kiss on it as the blonde had instructed her not hours ago. She didn’t think she would get to test out Lucy’s relationship advice so soon.

But never let it be said that she wasn’t absolutely ecstatic for it.

- Mod Ceru

#luvia #lucy heartfilia #juvia lockser #fanfiction #mod ceru #lucy x juvia #juvia x lucy #asks #anonymous #long post

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cubeswhump · 4 years

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Sunglasses at Night

A weird interpretation of Tooth Knocked Out for my character, Noelle.

So you all know Noelle, maybe not by name, from my profile picture. She was actually one of the first characters on this blog but I’ve neglected to write her until coming up with an actual plotline like two nights ago.

Warnings for mentions of murder (specifically serial killing), blood, some gore, mentions of alcoholic intoxication, violence, kidnapping, discussed sexual abuse, implied sexual abuse, broken bones, minor mouth gore, briefly mentioned racial bias and police brutality, politically incorrect joke that the character is immediately guilted for.

There was regular stupid, and then there was Noelle Alan.

All of five feet and two inches, the girl thoight herself a badass, the Batman of middle of nowhere Florida. But instead of the Joker she fought petty criminals and that one neighbor who hit his kid, and she was dirt-poor with no grappling hook and Noellemobile, just a hockey stick and homemade pepper spray that was starting to smell fermented.

She came home bruised and bloody most nights. People looked at her father with scorn when she stood next to him with black eyes and swollen lips.

"Elle, you're gonna die one of these days," Marshall grumbled when he saw how intently she was looking at her phone, "and I'm gonna piss on your rotting corpse."

"Kinky," she giggled.

"Scratch that. If you were on fire, I wouldn't piss on you."

He had an idea of what she was looking at and a pit formed in his stomach. When the bodies of young women, necks torn and blood drained, had started to be found around town on a weekly basis, not even hidden, Noelle wasn't scared; Marshall recognized the glint in her eye.

"No," he growled, looking over her shpulder at the news article on her phone screen. "Don't you fucking dare."

"I'm hunting a vampire," Noelle murmured, lips stretching into the dumbest smile.

"Vampires aren't fucking real. You're gonna chase after a serial killer and end up raped and dead in a gutter."

Noelle didn't look up from her phone. "Way to sould callous about rape."

Marshall grit his teeth, fists clenched tight. "No, I'm the one actually taking that shit seriously and bringing up an actual risk."

"I'll sharpen my stakes."

Marshall unclenched his fists and granbed her by her shoulders. He shook his overgrown hair out of his face to look her in the eye.

"Your jawline's looking really defined," Noelle tried, but the flattery was ignored. "Is that stubble I see?"

He huffed out a sigh. "Noelle, I will kill you myself."

"Do it, pussy."

"I don't think you're taking this seriously."

"I'm serious all right." Her shit-eating grin was back. "Seriously about to kick some undead ass."

Marshall drew back his hands, face contorting. "I can't fucking stand you sometimes," he said softly, and turned his back to her. "See you in Hell."

He slammed the bedroom door on his way out. Front door opened and slammed as well. He peeled out of the driveway in his beat-up secondhand car.

Okay. That hurt a bit.

Noelle tried to keep her spirits up. She'd apologize to Marshall after she caught a vamp- serial killer. Caught a serial killer.

People often called Noelle stupid but when she wanted answers, she knew how to get them. When she bothered to actually do her work in school she could always find the cause and effect, the author's purpose, subtext, textual evidence. She got scolded for being mouthy. Teachers said she was far too opinionated when she badmouthed authors and mocked bias in her essays. She was in internal suspension more than the mainstream classroom for arguments with teachers and fights with peers.

Her father joked, with a hint of seriousness, that she was the cause of his receding hairline. Some black people rose to the top and lead social change, but where does having a big mouth usually get a black girl from a poor family? All these police shootings terrified the man and Noelle knew it, but she couldn't stay out of trouble.

He thought she was finally behaving when he caught her pouring over notebooks, scribbling with pencils, using up all their printer ink. His frown lines softened. She was doing her homework, and she was working hard.

In actuality, she was printing up police reports and jotting down the hints, connecting all the detaild. This killer stayed within a small radius and his victims, young women of various races (so racial motivation was crossed out) but tending to be on the smaller side, were all last seen at bars (three specific local ones). And all were seen leaving on their own.

This killer made no attempts to hide their bodies. Two were found in a canal less than a mile away from Marshall's house. One was stuffed into a trashcan missing its lid. One was found behind poor Mrs. Johnson's teashop, and she'd told her young, female employees to stay away for their own safety. One, the most brazen display, was tied to a lamppost on the town's busiest intersection.

All victims were found within a five mile radius.

And the manner of the killing stumped Noelle and detectives alike. Police reports and news articles were vague, almost glossing over it in saying that "throats were torn and copious amounts of blood was lost", but Noelle had managed to find and save some leaked photos before they were taken down.

These women didn't just have their throats slit. Despite Noelle's earlier jokes about vampires, there weren't two neat little punctures; throats were ripped open, skin flapping, jugulars severed and windpipes exposed with multiple points of entry. She reasoned that the weapon must be one designed to grasp at the skin and tear.

She sketched designs for metal claws that attach to the hands, designed to bite into the skin and tear it away when the killer drew his (or her, Noelle Alan was no misogynist) arm back. They would have to attach to the fingers for better flexibility and range of motion and they would need to be relatively short, perhaps protruding only an inch past the finger tips, to have a good grasp. Such a cautious design would be needed to attach well and firmly to the fingers without causing harm to the wearer. Would the blades continue down along the fingers? They must. The intricate joints needed to bend with the fingers.

"This is fucking cool," Noelle breathed, imagining such a weapon on her own hands. Mirror-like silver against brown fingers. She would be a viscous tiger-lady clawing at her enemies and protecting the innocent.

Right. Back to the toxicology reports. While finding blood alcohol levels above 0.05% in what little blood remained in each victim, there was something else. A small amount of some foreign substance but there was more of it than blood after the killer got done with these poor women.

Surely the medical examiner would be able to identify any known toxin or poison, so it was nothing like cyanide or chloroform. Perhaps it was something homemade the killer was lacing his (or her!) weapon with? Or, Noelle thought, perhaps he just didn't clean the weapon in between uses and let it build up enough grime to show in blood?

No, that would not only dull a blade, but a medical examiner would recognize simple dirt and bacteria.

Once a week, usually Monday or Tuesday. Girls always seen leaving after two in the morning, dead before three. Bars the girls came from following no pattern, like the killer was picking which of the three at random. So which one would Noelle go to if she couldn't predict the target?

The killer liked small girls, short of stature and narrow shoulders. Noelle's height fit the bill, but she needed clothes that hid her muscles while allowing enough skin exposure (no turtlenecks).

Her wardrobe: tank tops, tank tops, short-shorts, athletic shorts, more tank tops, pajamas, sports bras, running shoes. Why was her middle school uniform still in there? A momentary distraction while she tried it on and found that while she'd gotten wider, she hadn't grown much vertically since seventh grade.

She had to blow her birthday money from that one rich aunt at Goodwill. A green dress that had a good balance of making her butt look fantastic while still allowing movement. A good dress couldn't help her chest though and she stuffed some tissues in her bra. A-cups, while great for athletics, scarcely got noticed.

A cardigan covered the bulk of her arms (and bra straps) and the dress hid her thighs but showed of her calves. She practiced some kicks and defensive stances in the black kitten heels until the clerk threatened to kick her out. They slipped off easily enough, and were only nine dollars, so she'd just kick them off to fight.

She arived at Uncle Tim's Beer Belly (always pick the one with a funny name) at 1AM. She was only eighteen so she wasn't supposed to be in bars but she discovered that she could get away with it by staying away from the bar, hiding in crowds, and acting casual and confident if the bartender looked her way. She couldn't actually get drunk before a fight but she rubbed whiskey in her armpits, behind her ears, and on her wrists and neck and practiced a drunken shamble to look and smell the part.

Each victim seen leaving around two in the morning. Check, Noelle was out the door by 2:10, feeling so stupid shambling down the road that she couldn't help giggling and sticking her arms out in a zombie impression.

She circled the block for a good hour, and only attracted the attention of some catcallers. At least it was fun to yell back at them.

"I'll suck your dick if you suck mine!" she shouted at one in a red car, and immediately felt guilty. Marshall would punch her in her padded boob if he heard her making jokes at the expense of transwomen.

God, she missed Marshall. He hadn't responded to any of memes she sent him the past few days. She knew he'd disapprove of her activities.

She tried the next night and had no luck again. The only difference was that her dad caught her coming in through the window smelling like a bar and freaked out. That was not fun.

That morning, someone found the body of a young woman who had last been seen leaving The Wench's Tavern. Caitlin Weiss, a girl who graduated when Ne was a junior, and an old friend of Marshall. She was so nice to everyone and gushed about how she was going to be a veterinarian, and instead she was found with her skirt hiked up as her lower half dangled out of a dumpster. Neck torn.

Ander boiled inside Noee. Caitlin didn't deserve that. None of them did!

If only Noelle had guessed the right bar, Caitlin might have made it home.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" Noelle yelled. She had to put duct tape over the hole she accidentally kicked in the wall. Hopefully her dad didn't notice that. She was on thin ice already.

She was back next week, and the week after that. She stuck to the Beer Belly. After all, when you're guessing on a multiple-choice test, you're meant to pick all the same letter. Surely a percentage of those A's will be corrext and you'll fail the test if you alternate answers.

For the first time in her life, she was beginning to lose hope. Would she ever catch this scumbag? But she kept going even as that hope dwindled. She kept going even when Marshall responded after countless texts and only said, "I know what you're doing and I want no part in it."

She owed it to Caitlin, Therese Jenkins, Natalie Hernandez, Jessye Zhao, Katy Smith... She ignored the voice in her head telling her she was doing it out if pride, not the innocent lives lost.

She was having a mental debate when she heard footsteps on week four. Heavy footsteps, like a man. Confident footsteps like he wanted to be heard. She wasn't a girl who feared sharing the sidewalk with men. Maybe it was just a courteous young guy walking loudly to let a woman know he was there and avoid her thinking he was following her.

But she didn't believe that.

She waited until she'd taken four right turns and the footsteps continued. Yep, she was heing followed. She snaked a hand in her bag and whipped out the hairspray bottle, spraying the spicy concoction as she spun around. But the man's face was higher up than she expecyed, and he was wearing sunglasses. At night.

I wear my sunglasses at night

So I can, so I can

Watch you weave-

She pushed the stupid song away and reminded herself this wasn't the time.

In the dim light of the streetlight across the street, she could see...wow, he was tall, and not quite fat but plump and round. He raised his hand and swung it at hers, and there was a crack! even before the cannister hit the ground. She shouted and clutched her hand.

Hands that definitely didn't have metal claws pulled her close, pressing her against his body. She struggled but the hold on her back grew painful.

"You've been looking for me, haven't you?" he asked, voice deep and husky. She could hear the smile in his voice, and grit her teeth.

"You're a sick fuck," she spat. If she could just get her throbbung hand in her bag, if she could move just enough to retrieve her knife...

"I like you, girl," he chuckled.

His hands moved to her shoulders, and with the increased space between them, her hand was able to dart into the bag. Bone fragments ground against each other as her bad hand tightened around the handle, and tears stung her eyes.

The man was suddenly coming down toward her, and he was coming down fast. With a shout, she plunged the knife right in between his ribs just as pain blossomed in her neck.

"Help, I'm being fucking murdered!" she screamed, warmth dripping down her neck and chest. "Fire! Fire!"

A muffled laugh. The creep was amused.

Surely the blood was flowing out, but there was an odd pressure like something going in. It felt like getting an injection at the doctor's office, but the needle at the end of the syringe was actually a bear trap.

Noelle was screaming even after the pain faded to tingly numbness that spread to her limbs, until her vocal cords seized. Her hands fell limply from the handle of the knife still sticking out of his ribcage. The only thing holding her up was his mouth on her neck. She fought to keep her eyes open but everything faded to black.

***

There were lucid moments here and there but it was like watching an old, grainy home video. Long fingers that she couldn't see in the darkness wrenching her jaw open. Something thick and bitter pouring down her throat. The taste remained, sticking to her teeth and mouth and throat. She gagged. Darkness.

Alone on a mattress, sitting back on her ankles, never questioning why she could see with the lights off. A chunk of something was on her tongue. She plucked it out wuth her fingers, one hand still throbbing, and her eyes widened at the little white canine tooth. And then there was another, and then a premolar. Fade to black.

She dreamed of tall, pink men with long fingers and metal claws. She dreamed of her skin ripping open and a skeleton bursting out and flying into the night. She dreamed of teeth: white teeth, yellow teeth, rotted teeth with cavities, square teeth, molars, sharp teeth. Very sharp teeth.

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uas-fics · 5 years

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Title: Lego Butterflies

Summary: Tweek is so excited to join a lego house contest with his friends Jimmy and Timmy. Nothing could ruin his day! Except maybe Nathan and his schemes of revenge against Jimmy!

Rating: G

Ships: Mentioned Creek.

Other: For @tweekweek, day 2 Talent. I have no idea if this Red Cross idea would even work but you know what, it's just a setting and conflict set up sooo..... *shrug*

Also, disclaimer, I didn't have time to do as much research as ASL as I should have, so the wording of Timmy's dialog isn't perfect, and I apologize. :(

Read on Ao3

---

Tweek bounced in his seat, a goofy smile on his face. The weekend didn’t come fast enough. Since Wednesday, Tweek hopped into bed early in an attempt to force time to move its butt along so Saturday’s event could finally happen.

Jimmy sat to his left and Timmy to his right. They shared his excitement.

Jimmy was the one who brought Tweek the flyer, shoving it under his nose during recess.

"The South Park Red Cross's first annual building contest: An event for children thirteen and under to show off their building skills and have fun!" The flyer proclaimed in Comic Sans font. "Come by and bring your kids for a lego brick contest with plenty of wonderful prizes for the best entries. Lunch and dinner will be provided. starts at 10 am ends at 6 pm. 5 dollar entry fee with be required in advance. For more information call the South Park Red Cross office or email us at SPRedCross@zmail. net."

Jimmy explained that it was a creative competition where a group of up to three kids are given a lego kit and had the day to make the building, but with their own creative twist on it. The first prize winners received gift cards to the local Dairy Queen.

Tweek didn't care about the prize. He was just excited to build with his friends and have fun. He didn't even expect to win, but Jimmy proclaimed he knew they would since Tweek was so amazing at building with legos.

"You have one of your builds on display at the library!" Jimmy reminded. "The one that looks like a b-b-bo-boat? You're a natural. We'll win for sure."

His parents donated his boat to the library without his permission last summer. Though Tweek had planned to recycle the bricks into another project, he couldn’t help but feel pride every time he saw his name on that piece of card stock in the shiny display case.

Tweek looked around the Red Cross building at the other tables. He knew some of the other kids here, but most were younger than him and he couldn't put a name to a face. He knew two of the kindergarteners in the corner. Kyle Broflovski's little brother and the youngest member of the goth kids looked less than thrilled to be there as their parents chatted a few feet away.

Kenny and his little sister and older brother on the other side of the room, Karen speaking animatedly and Kenny nodding along while their brother had a chair pulled to the wall and dozed.

Some girls from his class chatted near the door. A few kids from the special education class that Tweek didn't know waved to Jimmy as they walked in.

"Oh my Gosh!" Jimmy beamed. "There sure is a really big crowd out tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, this might be a fun competition," Tweek agreed.

"Of course, it will be." Jimmy leaned over and picked up his bag from beside him. He unzipped it before taking out some peanut butter crackers and juice boxes. "My mom packed me these, but we're being fed lunch, so I thought we could have them as a pre-build s-s-snack."

Timmy nodded, reaching in front of Tweek for a pack of crackers. His fingers wrapped around a juice box, only for his nose to wrinkle up in disgust when he read the flavor. He tossed the juice box back before snatching up a different one.

Jimmy cocked his head to the side to read the flavor. He stuck his tongue out.

"I a-agree with you there, Tim Tim." Jimmy faked a gag. "Kiwi-Orange is the w-worst flavor. I keep asking mom not to buy this kind, but she a-al-always forgets."

Tweek's mom buys the same brand, and he knew its store-brand juice and the cheapest available at the local market, but he didn’t point that out. Instead, he took the Kiwi-Orange for himself, leaving Jimmy with Peach.

Of the Tropical Explosion flavors, Kiwi-Orange tasted best to him. It was tangy with just the right amount of kiwi. He didn't understand how anyone couldn't love it.

"Well, well, well," A snide voice intoned, "look what the cat dragged in."

Nathan marched up to their table with Mimsy right behind him like a giant shadow. Nathan set his palms on the tabletop and leaned forward a little too far into their space.

"Oh! Hello there, Nathan!" Jimmy chirped, completely unfazed by how close Nathan's tinted aviator glasses were to his face. "You too, M-Mimsy. Good morning!"

"Heya, fellas," Mimsy replied with a wave.

"So, what brings you two here? Jimmy? Timmy? Are you here for the contest?" Nathan nodded to the front of the room where the adults from the Red Cross were pulling out craft supplies from some boxes.

"We s-s-sure are." Jimmy wrapped his arm around Tweek. "Tim Tim, me, and Tweek here are all one group. Isn't that gr-great? Too bad we can't have a group of five, though. You and Mimsy would make great additions to our t-t-team."

Nathan scrunched up his nose like he just stepped on a wet turd with bare feet.

"Oh," he gave Tweek a hard look over the top of his glasses, "really?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Tweek watched Timmy grip his crackers so hard, they crumbled in the wrapper. He glared at Nathan as if daring him to say something.

If Nathan saw, he didn't respond. Instead, he shrugged and stepped away.

"Good luck, there, Jimmy, Timmy...Tweek."

Tweek shuddered at how Nathan said his name. It reminded him a little too much of a cartoon super-villain with a long mustache about to capture the hero with a complicated contraption.

Timmy must not have like how his name was said either since he flipped Nathan off behind his back. Jimmy, on the other hand, seemed unphased completely.

"Good luck to you, too! I know we'll all do f-f-f-fantastic!" Jimmy encouraged. Nathan scowled as he turned around and went to another table.

Mimsy almost followed him, when he paused, taking a look at the box of juice in Tweek's hand.

"Is that Kiwi-Orange? Oh, boy, it's my favorite flavor. Do they have some here?" Mimsy grinned.

"Really?" Timmy signed, sticking out his tongue.

Tweek smiled back at him. "It's my favorite, too. It's yummy."

Jimmy looked into his bag. "Ah, darn, sorry, Mimsy. Mom only packed enough for my team. Maybe I can bring you some at school on Monday."

Mimsy's face fell. For someone with a large and imposing a frame as Mimsy, when he got disappointed, he looked no more threatening than an upset puppy.

Tweek offered his unopened box. "Here, you can have mine. I brought my own drink." With his free hand, he lifted his ever-present thermos from between his feet, still warm with the mid-morning’s coffee.

Mimsy's eyes grew wide. His mouth went slack as he took the juice. "Really? You'd give me the best flavor? Just like that? No fight or nothin'?" Mimsy stared down at the juice box as if Tweek just handed him the Hope Diamond to keep.

"Uh-huh. I'm ok with it, if you don't mind, Jimmy." He turned a questioning look to him.

Jimmy shook his head. "No, it's fine. Our teachers always tell us sharing makes for the b-best friendships."

"Good, there you go, Mimsy. Good luck. I hope you have lots of fun today." Tweek smiled again.

He didn't know Mimsy well, other than he hung around with Nathan all the time, but he didn't have anything against him. Mimsy seemed like a nice kid. He didn’t give bad vibes, unlike Nathan.

Mimsy looked at the box, then at Tweek, and blushed. "Golly, that's swell of you. Thanks a lot, Tweek." He giggled as if Tweek just told him a silly riddle before making a beeline for Nathan.

After the three finished their juice--or coffee in Tweek's case--and crackers, Jimmy gathered up the trash and took it to the trash can before heading to use the restroom.

Once Jimmy was out of earshot, Tweek turned to Timmy with a frown.

"Are you alright? You seem...uh..." he gestured to the crumbs covering Timmy's shirt, "upset? Is this about Nathan?"

Timmy brushed the crumbs off with his face set in a scowl. He looked around before leaning in close.

"Do not trust Nathan," he whispered, keeping his hand movement small and close to his body.

"Why?" Tweek covered his mouth with the side of his hand. Nathan and Mimsy sat across the room, so they couldn't hear him but better safe than sorry.

"He is a dickhead." Timmy cringed. "Jimmy is too stupid to understand Nathan hates him."

"He hates him? Jimmy sure seems to think they’re friends." Tweek frowned.

"He is clueless!" Timmy rolled his eyes. "Nathan hates him. He tries to trick him all the time or get him in trouble."

At Tweek's raised eyebrow, Timmy went on to explain some of his experiences with Nathan that ranged from switching out Jimmy's pencils with colored ones for tests and tripping in him in the lunch line to dumping soda in his backpack and spreading rumors.

When Timmy started to explain something that happened during summer camp, he started moving his hands so fast in his anger that Tweek couldn't understand him.

"Alright, alright, I get it! Nathan is a huge dick." Tweek grabbed Timmy's wrists when he was in the middle of signing what Tweek thought was 'Space-Racist.'

Timmy pulled his hands to his lap. "Be careful today," he warned, leaning over to shoot Nathan a glare.

Tweek peeked over his shoulder. Nathan had his head turned, so he didn't see Timmy's glower. Instead, his gaze was fixed on Jimmy, who was speaking with some girls at a nearby table. His hands balled into shaking fists.

Tweek snapped his head forward. His stomach twisted into knots. Timmy was right. They had to be super careful today.

---

Jimmy, that asshole, flirting with those girls right in front of him! He was just doing it to rub it in his face that, for some reason completely unknown to Nathan, the girls seemed to like him.

He didn't understand what anyone saw in Jimmy. Nathan was much more handsome and charismatic than Jimmy could ever be!

But the girls tittered and fawned over him like he was the best thing since sliced bread!

Nathan gripped his hands into fists.

"Mimsy, we're going to win those gift cards," He growled. "Even if I have to smash their entry myself."

Mimsy looked up from the empty juice box in his hands. He had been staring at it like a dolt since he finished sucking it dry. What was the big deal? It was just a juice box. It wasn't even a good flavor. Only some weirdo like Mimsy would like Kiwi-Orange.

"Ah, I dunno, Boss," Mimsy fingered the box, "maybe we should just try our best to win on our own. We don't gotta cheat."

"Don't you see, Mimsy? Jimmy is cheating! Us cheating would even the odds." Nathan waved his hand towards them. "He brought that Tweek kid with them to help."

"What's wrong with Tweek?" Mimsy's voice pitched up when he said Tweek's name. A small blush grew across his cheeks, eyes drifting down to the juice box.

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's an expert with legos, Mimsy! He has something he made shown off at the library! How is that fair to the rest of us?"

Mimsy craned his head around the room a moment. "Well, why don't we ask Colette." He pointed towards her. "She has a lego project displayed at the library too, and it looks like she's all by herself. We can ask her to join us!"

Nathan winced. "Hell no. She's ugly. I don't want an ugly girl on my team." He was trying to win the gift cards so he could get pretty girls. Girls love free chocolate-dipped cones. He would have a whole bunch of girls clambering for his attention when he won those gift cards. Then Jimmy would cry like a baby now that the girls saw who the real man around was.

Mimsy cocked his head to the side. "Well, Boss, maybe you should put your misogyny and bias against women aside this one time and work towards your goal so we can win honestly and you can take real pride in your win."

Nathan stared dumbfounded at Mimsy. Where did Mimsy get these ideas? Probably some dumb cartoon or something.

"Mimsy, shut up."

Mimsy turned his attention back to his juice box with a shrug. "Ok, boss."

---

The rules for the competition where simple: build the lego house from a kit and decorate it with the supplies from the craft table.

The house kit was a simple model, only twenty bricks high with four window pieces and a door piece and a premade slanted roof.

Even if Tweek hadn’t built it before, it was an easy task. He took up the job of putting it together while Jimmy and Timmy gathered supplies and refined the plan.

They had decided to turn their project into a gingerbread house with lollipop trees and candy stuck to the roof. They would use paint to add icing accents and cotton balls as cotton candy lining the outside like bushes.

As Timmy wrapped cellophane plastic around foam balls to make hard candy and Jimmy used a marker to color the cotton, Tweek stood to stretch.

"I'm going to the restroom. Be right back."

Timmy grabbed his sleeve, holding up a sheet of cellophane.

"Get blue," He told him before lowering his head back to his work.

Once Tweek finished his business, he stood over the craft table shifting through the mess of stickers and papers for a blue sheet of cellophane. Most of the stickers had a faint yellow tinge to them and several of the sets of markers were missing colors. If Tweek had to guess, he would say a lot of the supplies were donated from a granny’s leftover scrapbooking supplies.

Tweek glanced over his shoulder at a nearby team’s house kit box. Given how yellowed it was, maybe more than just the stickers came from someone’s backroom.

He set some brown felt aside before a flash of shiny, translucent blue caught his eye.

With a noise of satisfaction, he reached for it, only for another hand to grab it at the same time.

Tweek looked up and met eyes with Nathan himself.

"I saw it first," Nathan snapped, snatching the cellophane.

"We need it for ours," Tweek countered.

All of Timmy's stories played through his head. He needed to be very careful with what he said. Jimmy might be optimistically oblivious enough to overlook Nathan's malice acts, but Tweek sure as heck wasn't.

Nathan attempted to reply, but Mimsy stepped behind him and cut him off.

"Heya, Tweek!" He swung his hands side to side. "Gosh, isn't this fun? We's nearly finished half our house. It's going to be a summer house with a pool and palm trees and--"

Nathan shoved a sheet of craft felt into his mouth.

"Shut up, Mimsy! Don't tell our enemies the plan." He glared over the top of his glasses at Tweek. "He might steal our ideas."

"We don't need your ideas." Tweek reached across the table for the corner of the felt in Mimsy's mouth. He pulled it out then pushed it into Nathan's hands, making sure that the part covered in spit touched his skin.

Nathan dropped everything in his arms back on the table with a yelp. As he wiped his hand on his pants, Tweek snatched the blue cellophane. Before Nathan could make a bigger scene, Tweek took a pair of craft scissors and made a wavy line down the middle of the sheet.

"Here. Problem solved," Tweek set half on the slobbery felt.

A snarl ripped from Nathan’s throat as his upper lip rose. Tweek froze like a rabbit staring down a pet dog.

Oh, shoot! He had let himself get overconfident! Nathan was going to kill him, right there in the Red Cross building, in front of everyone!

Mimsy put his big hands on Nathan's shoulders and turned him.

"That'll be enough blue, dontcha think, boss? I think so. We just needed a little. Ain't it real diplomatic to share like that?" Mimsy jabbered on as he forced Nathan towards their table.

Tweek's body relaxed. Mimsy glanced over his shoulder at him.

"Thank you," he mouthed at him. Mimsy turned forward instantly, the tips of his ears burning pink.

---

Nathan crumbled the blue cellophane and threw it on the table. He was upset, but Mimsy didn't know why. They got more than enough for their pool.

Maybe if his head wasn't so light and spinny, he could figure it out, but right now he felt as though his feet weren't even touching the ground.

Tweek was so nice. He gave him his juice box. He shared the cellophane. He even said thank you for taking Nathan away to cool off.

Tweek was wonderful.

"--msy?"

Mimsy blinked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, what were ya sayin', Boss?"

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing up his glasses.

"I said we have to get those punk-ass jerks Jimmy, Timmy, and Tweek. We can't let them win!" Nathan picked up a pair of scissors and cut the crinkled cellophane to shape.

Mimsy twiddled his thumbs, taking a seat. "Do we have to? I don't think Tweek deserves us destroying his hard work."

Nathan paused and looked up. He fixed Mimsy with a look before he scowled.

"Mimsy, what do you care about that blond twitchy kid?" Nathan asked in a slow, careful tone.

Mimsy picked up a button he had painted to look like a life-ring and twisted it between his fingers. "Oh, well, ah...Tweek just..." He felt a silly smile grow on his face and couldn't make himself look up at his best friend as he continued, "He gives me butterflies, ya know, boss? In my tummy, and I just don't wanna cause him no trouble."

He didn't really want to cause Jimmy or Timmy trouble either, but Nathan had his heart set on being better than them, so Mimsy tagged along and helped him out however he could.

"Oh, for the love of..." Nathan dragged his hands down his face. "You know Tweek has a boyfriend, don't you? Shit those butterflies out already. You don't have a chance."

"I don't wanna chance." Mimsy picked up a lego brick and attached it to another brick. "Just knowing Tweek’s happy makes me happy. I wanna be his friend."

Be his friend, sit together at lunch, even, hold his hand at recess a little, that's all Mimsy wanted. He just really, really wanted that wonderful person to like him and he didn't think ruining his project would make that dream come true.

"Mimsy, you have the brain of a chicken." Nathan shook his head.

"Ah, geez, thanks, boss." Mimsy smiled at him. Chickens are really smart. Their class watched a show on them once. Chickens can count and do basic math! Nathan was such a swell guy for using inside information to compliment him.

Nathan opened his mouth then shut it with a groan. "Just finish building the house and stop pining over Tweek. I'll come up with a plan in the meantime."

Though his stomach twisted with worry, Mimsy nodded. Nathan wouldn't steer him wrong, would he?

---

Lunch was sandwiches, a snack pack of chips, an apple or orange, and a drink. The adults ushered everyone out to another room to eat, so Tweek's group stood with Kenny and his siblings as they ate.

In the ten minutes since Karen started talking to Tweek, he was pretty sure he counted her take a breathless than fifteen times.

"Since it's a kitten's house," Karen explained, "it'll have a pen outside for mice she can eat anytime she wants and--"

"Karen," Kenny cut in, "looks like they're letting people have seconds. Go get some. Get me another too."

Karen looked at her half-eaten sandwich then back up. Kenny shooed her with his fingers and a nod.

"Mom let us come for the free food, sis," Kenny reminded her, taking a big bite of his sandwich. "We'll put the extras in Kevin's bag."

"But, I was telling Tweek about our project." Karen sighed, but pushed her chair out anyway and headed back towards the serving table.

Jimmy laughed, slapping Tweek's shoulder. "Wow, I thought she would t-talk your ear off."

Tweek blew a breath out. "Thanks, dude.” He told Kenny. “She's really excited, huh?"

He raised a shoulder in a half shrug. "It gets her out of the house to play with glitter glue and stickers. Of course, she's excited. I don't think we'll win, but she's having fun, so it's ok by me if we lose."

From across the table, Kevin snorted. "We'd better win. Girls love being treated to a dipped cone," he muttered, more to himself than the conversation between the fourth graders.

Kenny rolled his eyes as Karen came trotting back up. Chips and fruit ladened down her arms. Several sets of eyes from the nearby tables turned towards theirs when she dropped everything down with the thump of hard apples and oranges and the crinkles of plastic chip bags.

Karen beamed proudly at her plunder. "That nice old lady gave it to me when I told her my last name." She waved towards an elderly woman sitting behind the table. See Karen acknowledge her, the woman waved back before returning to her conversation.

Kenny's cheeks blushed red. He averted his eyes and pulled his hood strings a little. Even Kevin slumped down a little farther in his chair.

As is his nature, Jimmy quickly changed the subject before the heavy silence grew too awkward.

"So, w-what else is everyone doing for their e-en-entries? Do you know? Colette is sitting next to us and is making a fairy castle. It's r-r-r-really neat!" Jimmy waved his hands out, drawing the attention to himself and shielding the McCormicks while Kevin unzipped his backpack.

"Yeah, um, oh!" Tweek moved his arms out as well, though not as wide. "Mimsy told me he and Nathan were making a summer house. Isn't that cool? Errr--It has a pool even."

"A pool?!" Karen gasped. She grabbed Kenny's arm and shook him. "Can ours have a pool? I know cats hate water, but I don't think this kitten would. It can be a special cat pool!"

"Huh? Yeah, sure, we can put fish stickers inside," Kenny replied without looking up from his and Kevin's work.

"I want the pool to have pink water," Karen continued, wrapping her arm around his. "It's fancy rose water. We have some extra paper flowers we can put around it, and we can even make an innertube floatie!"

"I bet you can make the best p-pool ever," Jimmy told her, finally lowering his arms to the table. "I think we have some extra pink plastic wrap you can use. If you make a paper c-c-cir-circle you can cover it for your pool."

Karen released Kenny's arm and darted around the table to squeeze in between Tweek and Jimmy, bombarding Jimmy with questions for more ideas. Feeling claustrophobic, Tweek slipped out of his seat. The instant he did, Karen plopped down.

Kenny set a hand on Tweek's arm. "Thanks. I owe you one,” he whispered, his cheeks still tinged with the red of embarrassment.

Before Tweek could reply, another hand grabbed his arm and pulled. He spun around to see Timmy staring at him with a determined expression. He tugged Tweek away to talk privately in the corner.

"I saw Nathan and Mimsy." He nodded towards the door to the other room. "They snuck back in."

"What?" Tweek squawked. He craned his head around to make sure no one heard him. "What?" He repeated, much quieter. "When? Should we tell an adult?"

Timmy shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe? Or..." He flashed a wicked smile, "we catch them."

"You want to sneak in there? How? You're not exactly..." He gestured to Timmy's wheelchair.

Timmy frowned. "I am sneaky."

"You are, but, eeer," Tweek chewed his lower lip. "There are too many people. We have to open the door completely to get you inside and..."

"You go!" Timmy rolled closer, pointing at Tweek’s chest. "You go in after Nathan."

"Why me? We should tell an adult." Tweek took a step away, but Timmy rolled his chair in front of him, blocking his path.

"You go. In ten minutes, I will tell someone." He promised, crossing his heart with his finger.

Timmy had that determined look on his face. It was the same face he had when he argued with Cartman about changing his superhero from Iron Maiden to Doctor Timothy. Unless Tweek wanted to make a powerful enemy of Timmy, he had no choice.

"Alright, fine..." Tweek heaved a sigh. "We still need a distraction though."

Timmy smirked, wheeling himself back. "That is my job."

Before Tweek could stop him, he spun his chair around and surged it forward. In the middle of the room, he slammed the brakes to a stop and fell out onto the ground. He threw his arm up dramatically with an anguished cry that reminded Tweek a little too much of a soap opera character.

It took seconds for all the adults to gather upon Timmy.

Tweek seized his moment and dashed towards the door. He slipped in and turned his eyes to a horrendous scene.

Drops of red, yellow, and blue paint rolled down half-finished walls and stained cuts of cardboard paper. Stickers had been ripped from the lego bricks on some and whole parts of the buildings taken away on others. Swear words were written along roofs in white glue. Glitter covered every surface.

And the end of the line of crafting carnage stood none other than Nathan himself, gluing marker caps to lego bricks with glitter glue.

"Hand me the buttons," Nathan held out his hand behind him without looking up. "We're going to put a big penis on this house. We'll use those stupid colored bushes as hair on the--"

"STOP!" Tweek shouted, rushing forward. He knew it was too late to save his or any of the other projects, but he had to try to save what was left!

With a rush of adrenaline, he dove at Nathan. Marker caps and buttons clattered across laminate as Nathan gasped and struggled under Tweek.

Nathan smacked Tweek across the face with the back of his hand, but Tweek was able to pin one of Nathan's hands down by the wrist.

With a sneer, Nathan aimed the bottle of glue in his free hand at Tweek's face and squeezed. A line of liquid glue hit him right above the right eye.

Tweek recoiled back, desperately trying to wipe the glue away with his sleeve. Nathan shoved him off. He rolled back, knocking into another table.

The folding table's leg gave way, dumping all the projects on it. Legos, stickers, paper, paintbrushes and shallow dishes of water all dropped to the floor. One of the houses hit Tweek on the top of the head. Stars swam across his vision.

"NO!" Nathan screamed. "My project!"

Tweek looked to his side and saw the remains of a lego house with a styrofoam sun glued to the top. The house crushed a paper water bowl with blue cellophane inside and several palm trees made of construction paper.

"Why you!" Nathan snarled. "Mimsy, grab him! I'm going to put a bottle of glitter glue down his throat!"

Tweek tried to scramble to his feet, only to slip on the loose pieces. Mimsy loomed over him.

There was no way out now. He was blocked by Nathan to his left, the other table to his front, the fallen table to his back and Mimsy to his right.

Tweek didn't think he would die today, but here he was about to meet the reaper.

All in all, he had a good day up until all this started with Nathan. He and his friends had lots of fun building the lego house and adding the decorations.

Too bad he couldn't say goodbye to everyone. Where were his parents supposed to find a new busboy on such short notice? Craig would be annoyed, too. They had a date planned for next week.

Accepting his demise, Tweek clenched his eyes shut and waited...and waited...and waited, but nothing came.

He opened his eyes to see Mimsy staring at him, face red and conflicted.

"Mimsy! Do as I say!" Nathan ordered.

"But, Boss! The butterflies," He whimpered as he grabbed at his shirt. "Can't we just go? Please?"

Nathan let out a cry of frustration. He set one foot on either side of Tweek before grabbing his chin. He held the glue up threateningly.

"If you're going to be useless, I'll do it myself," Nathan muttered.

He squeezed Tweek's cheeks into a fish pucker, forcing them apart. Tweek gritted his teeth.

A pair of hands fell on Nathan's shoulders. He blinked and looked up just in time for him to be thrown back into the opposite table. That one fell backwards with a crash, destroying all the defiled projects atop it.

Mimsy's lip quivered. "I asked ya to stop, Boss. I even said ‘please’..."

As Mimsy wiped away tears on his arm, the door opened.

"What is going on in here — Oh my Gosh!" One of the adults gaped at the scene.

Nathan scrambled to his feet, jabbing a finger at Tweek.

"He tried to come and break everyone's projects," He accused. "We came here to stop him from ruining everyone's fun. Tweek is a big cheater!"

"That's not--argh! That's not what happened!" Tweek countered though he didn't try to stand. His head hurt too much. Hopefully, his mom remembered to put the ice pack back in the freezer since Tweek smashed his elbow at the shop. Tweek was going to need it for the lump growing on the top of his head.

Slowly, adults and kids trickled in, looking on the destruction. Some of the younger kids started crying. A few of the adults already had phones out, preparing to call parents.

"Yes, it is, ma'am," Nathan said in his most sympathetic voice. "Tweek came in and was doing awfully naughty things to other people's projects. When Mimsy and I came in, he pushed me down.”

"No, he pushed me," Tweek snapped. "Please, Timmy! Timmy saw these two come in here, didn't you? Tell them!"

The adults turned to Timmy, who nodded once, glaring at Nathan.

"See!" Tweek gestured.

The adults still didn't look convinced. One walked right past Tweek to Nathan, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you hurt, sweetie?" She asked.

"A little bit, ma'am," he whimpered. “I have a scrape on my elbow. I might need stitches.”

"I'm telling the truth!" Tweek tried to stand, but the world spun too much for him to stay up.

Mimsy chewed his lip. His hands rubbed his stomach before he took a long, slow breath.

"Missum?" Mimsy tugged on the back of her shirt. "Nathan's lying. You see, we was gonna come in and ruin half of everyone's projects, so no one could tell we really were trying to ruin Tweek's teams, but Tweek came in, and Nathan pushed him and tried to put glue in his mouth. I’m the one who pushed Nathan."

Nathan growled. "Mimsy, you fucking traitor," He snapped. "See if I let you sit next to me at lunch now."

"Young man!" the adult gasped. "What did you just say?"

Nathan winced as he realized his mistake. She grabbed his shoulders and marched him towards the door. Mimsy twiddled his thumbs, uncertainly, before the adult yelled at him to follow her as well.

"Mimsy?" Tweek called. "That was really cool and brave of you. Thanks a lot."

Never before had Tweek seen a face light up as fast as Mimsy’s did at that moment. He giggled to himself before following after Nathan, almost skipping the whole way there.

---

Tweek slumped down against the table. His head still hurt, but at least the room stayed still when he moved. Timmy patted his shoulder as Jimmy sat down across from them.

"Nathan's parents just came to drove him and M-M-M-Mimsy home. They're in big trouble for this. They have to p-pay for the house kits they broke and aren't allowed at any R-R-Red Cross events for a whole six months." Jimmy cocked his head to the side. "I just don't get it. Why would Nathan do something so mean and nasty?"

Timmy slapped his palm to his forehead and dragged his hand down his face.

"He is a dick bag," Timmy reminded him. "Remember camp?"

"Those were all just unfortunate accidents," Jimmy countered. Timmy rolled his eyes and let the topic drop.

"And, anyway, Tweek. How are you f-feeling?"

Tweek shook held his head. "I'll be ok. I'm just glad I'm not in trouble, too. It's too bad we couldn't win the prize, though. Did you hear what happened to the gift cards?"

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, they decided to judge the ones left standing and pick a winner from those, but open the contest again in a month for everyone else who got their projects wrecked."

"Who won?" Timmy asked.

A smile spread on Jimmy's face. "Kenny and his brother and s-s-sis-sister," he explained. "I saw their finished Kitten Dream House, and it was c-cool and creative! Better than our silly g-g-gingerbread idea by a long shot."

"Will you join us for the next contest?" Timmy wanted to know from Tweek.

Tweek winced. "No, thank you. I'll play by myself at home where no one is going to try to make me eat glue."

"Ah, that's a s-stinky spirit to have," Jimmy chided.

After all that had happened today, Tweek didn't care one bit how his spirit smelled.

If even a fraction of what Timmy said was true, then he had to be very careful until Nathan's anger cooled--or turned back towards Jimmy. Who knows how long that will take!

But if Nathan was upset with Tweek, he was positively pissed at Mimsy for betraying him.

Tweek pursed his lips then nodded to himself.

Monday at school he would ask Mimsy if he wanted to join his table for lunch. It was the least he could do. Besides, as far as Tweek was concerned, Mimsy deserved a much better friend than Nathan, and he was willing to step up and be that friend.

---

AN: Shout out to my friend @najti-nightmare for help with the fic and title!

#tweek week #tweek tweak #jimmy valmer #timmy burch #nathan south park #mimsy south park #oneshot #comedy

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cawthelesbian · 5 years

Text

Don't Cost A Thing - Chapter 1

Dan would say he was okay for who he is. He's not really out there when it comes to socializing whether it's with the number of friendships he's gotten over the years or the number of relationships he's had in the last decade of his life. He has a few friends who don't really care about him and seem to be into him because he happens to be there but he doesn't necessarily care because at least he has someone. Sure, his romance game sucks but when he gathers the courage to go to a bar at night, everyone is staring at him and there's at least one guy with a fetish for cross-dressing so that helps whenever he wants to get off by something that's not his left hand. He lives the average life really. He just happens to like wearing flower crowns and pretty so-claimed feminine clothes. Sure, maybe a skirt or two with some pretty ruffles on his numerous blouses was out of the ordinary for most boys but he had a decent upbringing.

Maybe his father liked to drink more than he liked to spend time with him and his brother. Maybe his mother preferred working with her clients more than she cared about making sure her sons felt loved and safe within their own home. Maybe his grandmother was the only person he had to raise and love him but she was so religious that he felt like he suffocating whenever he woke up in the morning but that's average. A lot of people have problems with their families and people have their flaws, some worse than others. He's twenty-two years old, trying to manage through university fees with a shitty mandatory paycheck at the end of the month from the stupid overpopulated shop that he works at down the block from his school. He knows how to stay on his two feet even when times get tough. He's got no romantic partner whatsoever, his classes and work hours barely give him enough time to sleep for a few hours before his alarms ring off to kick him out of sweet dreamland and send him off to suffer for another shift or another hour-long class.

He's tired constantly but who isn't at University? Especially with a major in something like Psychology and Law. Yes, you heard that correctly! He's doing a double-major! He thought it would be more beneficial for him but he was being naive. It didn't help his Law professor looked at him in disgust. He assumed perhaps it was because his clothing style didn't scream 'lawyer' or 'prosecutor'.

But now, he just really wants some sleep. For the first time in two years since entering University and grabbing himself a spot at his job, he's taken a day off just for himself. Somehow with the grace of God, he got his birthday off and he couldn't wait to sleep in.

"Dan, where are you going?" Charlie, one of his peers who doesn't particularly like him, stared at him with narrowed eyes. He didn't just particularly like him, he seemed to hate Dan for whatever reason. He wasn't really sure why but he didn't have the courage to ask. He was far too shy and withdrawn for that.

"To go marry my bed," Dan joked, trying to find the right goddamn key. Why did he have so many keys? He should really get rid of some of them.

"Like you don't slack around enough," Charlie spat, making Dan roll his eyes silently. Charlie caught him bringing one of the tech students back to his dorm room since the jerk lives right across the hall from Dan's. He had tried to avoid this situation by getting a dorm room alone but apparently, that didn't matter to whatever forsaken force that seems to want him to suffer.

"Ah, isn't that what University is about? Drinking booze, throwing your insides out, and praying to the Lord overhead that you, by some miracle, pass that final on Monday you have a hangover?" Dan joked again, trying to the lighten up the mood a little. He wasn't a witty or talkative person, not at all, but people like Charlie light a fire underneath his bum. It wasn't fair how Charlie berated and degraded him but he could live with it, he supposed.

"Maybe for you. Some people here actually have some dignity. You're probably fucking your professors to get your As." Charlie spat behind him, his eyes burning Dan's body with the intense hatred he knew was directed his way. He really hated Dan and the curly-haired male couldn't figure out for the life of him as to why.

"I have female professors, Charlie." Dan laughed, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of him sleeping with a woman. He's about as straight as his hair. "I'm far too gay for that."

"Yeah, you'd be the type to be cockslut." Charlie scoffed, making Dan silently sigh. He was so mean but from what Dan heard he had a boyfriend so it's not like he could insult Dan's sexuality without being a huge hypocrite.

"If I like cock, I like cock." Dan managed to find the goddamn key, finally. He hurried to slid the key in and turn it, unlocking the door. He hurried beyond the doorframe before Charlie could insult him again, closing the door behind him. He let out a huff of relief, falling against the wooden worn-down door that was covered in stickers and writings from former residents. He let his eyes fall shut and breath in.

"Okay, finally! I'm away from that fucking twat." Dan slid off his bookbag, tossing it and his coat onto his couch as he walked past it to the mini-fridge he kept in the room. He bent down, opening the door and looking for something to eat so he could finally relax. Seeing as he was poor and in need of food, he grabbed Totino's pizza rolls like an angsty fourteen years old who was too interested in Call of Duty game to worry about what he was shoving into his piehole and put them in his microwave.

His eyelids felt heavy as he fought to stay awake, watching the plate spin in the golden window of the cheap microwave. But he couldn't sleep just yet! He had to eat and change first. Watching the numbers tick down on the timer, he figured it was better than any time to change down. Standing up - a little dizzy at first - and went to the drawer embedded in his bed frame, fishing clothes out of it. He chose his white pajamas that have different color stars imprinted on them. Some are pink, some are purple, some are blue, pretty much all the pretty colors that he adored on it. He smiled, finally cozy.

Hearing the ding of the microwave, he pushed it open and grabbed the plate from it. Finally feeling a little bit at peace, he let himself relax into the comfort of his bed and turned his laptop on, ready to watch his favorite show on repeat until he falls asleep. He breathes in, feeling the comfort of the soft beneath his bum and the warmness from his plate. It's nice. Finally being able to relax after the numerous hours he spends working whether it's at the shop or with thesis papers. Now it's time to watch a show he's seen fifteen and a half times and become fat from stuffing it with pizza.

"Finally, some me time! Now, more of The Office." He smiled, watching the opening of the show happily.

-x-

Strange. His back was stiff - which is normal considering his poor self-care skills - and his limbs felt immobile. No, he could move them. Sure, he could but it was more like a struggle and the most he did, the most his wrist seemed to burn almost.

"What the-" Dan peeled open from eyes that were heavy from sleep, looking down and seeing a terrifying sight. His heart began to race, beating loudly in his fears, letting him know how scared and anxious he was like he wasn't already aware.

He was fucking tied to a chair! What the fuck?! This can't be happening! One moment he was sleeping comfortably in his bed at his University to the sound of The Office playing and now he's fucking tied to a chair in the middle of a dark and cold room.

"I see you're finally awake," An unfamiliar voice that was strong like honey and rich as chocolate scoffed. His flight or fight responses began to try to kick in as he struggles to get his confinements undone or loosen. He's not sure what he would even do if he got free from the chair, after all, he's in a small dark room with cracks and water dripping through the weak ceiling. Where would he go? Surely this small room is just apart of a huge terrifying building surrounded with other people ready to shoot his head off if he dared. He isn't even sure where he is in the first place. Was he still in Manchester? Or was he in another part of Britain? They couldn't have flown him out of the country, right? Someone would have noticed!

"Oh, come on. There's no point of struggling. We have an ex-navy officer so those knots aren't loosening for someone like you." Someone like you? What the fuck is that suppose to mean? How did he liking acclaimed girly clothing equal to him being weak? What bullshit!

"I see you're a little feisty thing, aren't you, Doll?" The man chuckles, his lit cigarette being the only thing lighting beside the cheap light overhead barely hanging onto its wires. 'Doll'. Doll is a name that strikes fear in him from a previous relationship that went way downhill way too fast. By downhill, he means violent and toxic. It took everything out of Dan to end it. He feels himself stiffen, his head lowering as he stares at the stars on his white pajamas. He can hear his breath hitching, his breath slowly becoming uneven as the memories flood back and crash down on him like a rollercoaster.

"...Don't call me that," He protests weakly. He knows he sounds small and weak and pathetic with the way it comes out.

"Aw, what? Is it embarrassing? Do you not like it, Doll?" The man sneers, completely unapologetic. Dan, somewhere back in his mind where logic is, understands reasonably why the man is like this. Dan is his kidnapped victim, after all, he can call him whatever he pleases and Dan can't do a thing, even if he wasn't bound to a chair.

But Dan is running on adrenaline and emotions right now, not thinking clearly with any logic or reasoning. He just wants out of this chair, away from wherever he is, and back in his dorm room. He'll take any work hours and a hundred thesis papers to get out of this mess that he somehow got himself into. Speaking of which, how did he get into this mess? Why would this man want him? What use does he have? Furthermore, how the fuck did he kidnapped Dan? He was on University grounds for fuck's sakes!

Dan had so many questions but he's studied Law which means he's studied cases but he's not just any student. He's not talented in the slightest bit nor is he genetically born with intelligence. He has to work twice, no, three times as harder than anyone in his classes. He studies all the cases he can in order so he can ace the exams and stick in those rich bastards faces who do nothing but drink away and then get to pass because they were gifted with smart genes.

He's read up on kidnapping cases, all with different reasons, different victims, and different outcomes. He needs to follow what the victims did in the good outcome, the one where he's rescued and survives. The best way to do that is complicit to the kidnapper's wishes and just try to say alive as long as he could. He needed breath in and calm down. He needed to survive. He could do this. With his understanding of the Law and Psychology, he just might make it out alive if he plays his cards out right.

"You're quiet," The man whispers lowly, footsteps following after his statement. They get louder and louder meaning he's getting closer and closer. He steps out of the shadows and closer to the cheap light, allowing Dan to get a look at his kidnapper. The man is more handsome than he expected.

He expected someone more bulky and dirty, one that smells of cheap booze and lousy cigars from old run-down gas stations. But this man is lean and muscular with tattoos lining seemingly each every of his collarbone that was peaking out beyond that muscle tank top and his arms was covered all the way down to his wrist that was seen thanks to the denim jacket's sleeves being folded a few times up. He had high hips, reminding Dan of those Vogue models he would see on magazines at his work. The male's skin was pale all over with a slim figure with bright enticing blue eyes and soft black hair that was brushed up into a quiff, making him having this graceful look about it.

"I would expect you to be screaming your head off, givin' me a headache." The male walked around the chair. Dan could tell he was wearing tight jeans from how his plump legs were spilling out of the ripped patches of the dark pants. He should stop focusing on his kidnapper's looks and start figuring out on a way to play him so he could get out of here unscathed. "But you're really quiet. I don't even have tape on those pretty pink lips."

He's not sure if he should take that as a compliment or not. It didn't help his kidnapper was more than just attractive. No, bad Dan! Don't let your dick take control!

"It's too bad that your boss didn't protect you more," He purred. Dan hated how much he loved that sound. "How did a pretty thing like you end up in a gang like that?"

Wait, what?

This situation was already crazy as it was. With him waking up on his birthday tied to a chair in an unknown location in a crappy room with a stupid light that's about to snap off and fall on his face was already crazy and insane and mind-blowing as it was. But now, they believe he's in some sort of gang? What the fuck?

Were they seriously that stupid? Did they grab the wrong person? Who the fuck were they looking for on campus? Oh, boy would they be disappointed.

"W-what?" He squeaked out, narrowing his eyes at his kidnapper who stared back into his with complete confidence. The man's pale pink lips turned up at his pathetic voice probably. Even if they were that stupid, he was still terrified out his mind.

"Yeah, you posh should stick back where you grew up. Manchester is ours." The man's cigarette dropped from those soft-looking lips, landing on the ground not too far from Dan's foot. He smiled sinfully, stomping down on the addictive killing machine, crushing it. "I mean, really? You steal one of our best men and then demand half a million from us? I'm offended that you guys think that's all he's worth. I was expectin' least a million, buddy." Literally what the fuck?

How did Dan scream gang? What made him a 'gangsta'? He was anything but gang material. He wore pastel and feminine clothing every day. He's studying Law, that and criminals don't typically mix, you know. He worked all hours of the day and had too many classes to just count on his hand so where would he get the time to even be in a gang? Who did they think he even was?

"PJ, that's his fucking name, you bastard!" A flip seemed to switch in just a millisecond as the unnamed male snatched onto Dan's curls, yanking him forward. It really stained his neck and ow, his scalp! "I don't know you think you're doing with trying to bribe us but you've got another thing coming!"

He saw the fist and his heart beat a ridiculous pace. Such a pace that he thought for a second he was having a heart attack.

"Daniel James Howell!" He screamed, squeezing his eyes shut in preparation for the hit.

"What?" The guy sneered.

"Daniel James Howell!" He hollered again, hearing his breath hitch and become uneven. "I'm twenty-two! I have a mom, dad, and older brother! I'm taking a double-major of Law and Psychology! I work at the Joy House near Manchester University! I work so many hours and have too many classes to be in a fucking gang! And I'm far too poor for it!"

He hoped that when he opened his eyes that the guy would understand and back off and maybe even let him go. After a few moments of silence, he peeled open his eyes but saw nothing but the hard glare of bright blue eyes. Of course, that wouldn't fucking work. They weren't so playable as normal people.

"Do you really think I'll believe that? You fucking twat-"

"I'm not lying! The dorm you kidnapped me away from is registered with my name!" Dan's chest heaved. "I swear! I don't know who you think you've got but it's not who you think! I'm just a student who took a day off for his birthday! Please, just-just look into it! At the very least!"

He seemed to take mercy in Dan, letting his hair go with a shove of his head. Dan watched in horror, trying to gather himself again for the second time since he awoke, as he huffed at the door of the room.

"Don't even try to fucking leave," Phil glared back at him. Damn, even his neck had tattoos on them. That boy must be loaded with the known amount of money it costs to get each tattoo. Well, he's in a gang so he must be or maybe he got it for free by scaring the tattoo artist to death. "Though, I doubt you will. You know, being tied to a chair and all."

Was this dude bipolar or something? One moment he was silent as a mouse when he was sneaky and cruel as a snake. Out of nowhere, he became as feisty as a bull and now he was back to cruel as a snake. Dan couldn't get a good read on him.

By the way he walked and spoke, he was confident in himself and what he was doing. By that logic, he must have done this a thousand times before and knew how each one went. Dan assumed it always went in the gang member's favor. But now, he was left here to just stare at the light that was bound to hit him in the face anytime soon. Or he could count how many times he heard the droplets of water splattered away the cold floorboard. Was it concrete or wood? Maybe even metal? Dan couldn't tell. Perhaps he could trace the cracks on the walls with his eyes.

"Well, well," Before he could decide which one to do first, he heard a familiar voice. He snapped his head forward, staring speechlessly at the brown-haired male before him. "What do we have here, hm?"

"Charlie!" Dan gaped. Charlie knew who he was for a fact. Did he see them take Dan? Was he apart of the gang? He had to be if he had access to the rooms! "What- what is going here...?"

"Well, it won't cost you a thing to find out now, will it?"

Dan didn't like the sound of that. He felt the subconscious shiver run through his limbs, shaking against the wooden chair. The one he was tied to, rendered completely helpless to whatever Charlie was planning. Dan knew this couldn't be good. Not with Charlie.

"Now, let's play." Charlie cracked a grin, cocking his head to the side. Dan didn't like that look in his eyes. "Don't you wanna?"

'Survive. Just make it through everything. You just have to survive.' Dan reminded himself, biting his lower lip in worry. He latched onto the handles of the chair's arms for support, breathing in deeply to calm his nerves once more despite the frantic thumping in his chest.

"Sure," Dan mustered up an awkward but polite smile, hoping for the best.

What could happen? Surely Charlie didn't despise him so much as to murder him.

Hopefully, at least.

#phan #phanfiction #phanfic #phan smut #phan angst #phan fluff #pastel!dan #punk!phil #gang!phil #punkxpastel #implied abuse #implied neglect #implied alcoholism #kidnapping #danxphil

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tarithenurse · 5 years

Text

Space Nurse 6/?

Fandom(s): Men in Black & MCU! Pairing: (Oh, hello!) x fem!reader Contents: just swearing I think, maybe some angst A/N: another 2nd pers PoV-chapter. If you want on the list, just send me an ask :) Comments are more than welcome especially because I’m still prepping for exam and I could use some confidence!

Stubborn

Every day, you wake up and get to the infirmary, body still sore from Costa’s treatments which you suffer through each evening. Twice, now, you’ve passed out from exhaustion in the gym. Once you’ve puked up the electrolyte-water you’d been drinking. And for what? No kind words of encouragement during these first weeks.

As exited as you had been about the job with its tantalizing mysteriousness just as much do you abhor what’s to come as the end of your shift nears, and you do your best to drag out the time together with doctor Simmons.

She’s a kind, young lady with an extremely bright mind. Sometimes, she forgets that the two of you don’t have the same expertise, but it’s generally when she gets excited about something within her field of specialty. Whenever that happens there are two ways to handle it, it seems. The simplest is to let her rant on about it, more or less to herself while you make small approving noises. Nod and smile. The smarter way, and the one you prefer to be honest, is to interrupt her and ask for the English version too. It sure teaches you a lot of interesting things.

“Why’re you even around still?” Poking her head up from behind a row of beakers near the spectrometer, Jemma (she insists you call her that) studies you with the keen eyes.

You decide to refocus on the pc-screen where you’re reading up on the appointments for on the Monday (having been given the weekend off duty). “Oh, I just wanted to prepare for tomorrow, y’know?”

“From what I’ve seen,” the doctor says, clear and slow, “you’ve already prepared. And you’re perfectly capable of handling anything unforeseen…so what’s going on?”

The smallest movement, like the shrug you give her now, is a painful reminder of what you’re up against. If your friends or maybe the right family members had been within reach then you’d have called them already to vent your frustrations, get a pat on the back. Some support! But you aren’t close to anyone yet, save for Jemma…and until now that has purely been a professional relationship. It still is. In the end, she’s going to have a lot to say before the power that be decides if you’re going to stay or get send back home. No, I can’t tell her. Having a shoulder to cry on would be great, but there’s no way you’ll “let them win”.

“Nothing much, I guess. Still getting used to everything, of course, but that’s to be expected.” Forcing a smile that fits the airy voice, you hope it’s enough to get her off your back.

Instead, she comes over to your desk to pat you gently on your shoulder. “I guess I have the benefit of being used to this kind of life already.” The near-motherly kindness is oozing from her. “I knew what I wanted before I got accepted to the academy, so now it’s only a minor inconvenience when I have to be here.”

“Where’re you normally?” Anything to move the focus to another subject.

“I can’t tell you yet…classified…you get it.” The woman has the decency to look apologetic, if only for a second before reenergizing mentally. “Well! You better be off and get some quiet time.”

She basically ushers you out of the door.

…

Stomach tense and fists clenched, you tell yourself not to be an idiot as you enter the gym later that evening. Costa and her buddies are already busy just like a bunch of other agents and military people of various sort. You still haven’t found the system in ranks and titles, but maybe you’ll be taught who are what if you get to stay. Ian and Sean, the twins, have kept a safe distance since threatened by your personal trainer from hell, and you kind of miss the guys even if you’ve never gotten to know them. It stings to see them wink at you from the other side of the room, but not dare to wave or anything.

Fucking Costa. The spite’s like fuel. Fucking secrecy. The treadmill whirrs beneath your feet as anger and frustration carries you in a steady pace. Fucking isolation. Them and their self-conceived superiority! Timing your breathing automatically and ignoring the sweat running down your face and body, the stubbornness grows while your mind points out all the ways the system and individual people at this damn facility have contingency plans based on you and other rookies washing out. They expect newbies to fail. Not this time!

When the machinery comes to a halt, you’re itchy with a restless jittery feeling that drives you to march up to Costa and look her straight in the eyes, demanding her attention. Looking you over, the shorter woman doesn’t say anything to you, just nods at Taylor.

“C’mon.” Short of word, the man waves for you to follow him to the mats in one of the corners.

This is new. Apprehension rises cold in your stomach, seeping into your limbs as you watch him gather various pads and a roll of sports tape which he begins to wind around your hands and wrists with surprisingly gentle hands. Dark, brown eyes with a few greenish flecks are glued onto the work, giving you ample time to study him. Oh yeah, he’s muscular and well-trained…just not in the same bulky way that for instance Hoffmann flaunts. Whatever Asian origin the American before you hails from, it’s given him the best of the best for dexterity, agility and stamina. And he’s about to use it all to kick my ass?

Grabbing both your hands, he studies the result. “How’s that?”

“Errr…” You know nothing about these things, so you tryingly flex your fingers. “Okay…I think.”

The nod is curt. “Good. Costa wants me to test you first, but that’s not how I do things.” That sounds…promising. “So, we’ll start with basic blocks and attacks.”

And so it begins, like learning a dance by familiarizing yourself with the individual steps before you get to put it all together. Contrary to his friend, the she-devil, he compliments when you’ve done something right, making it easier to bear all the times you don’t. There’s plenty of room for improvement. How could there not? But your instincts are right when they tell you to step into any jab or punch, putting your body behind the entire movement. It’s hard work, and still it doesn’t feel that bad.

“That’s it for today.” A tiny smile wrinkles the corner of Taylor’s mouth. “You’re off tomorrow, and I suggest you use it to recover. Be here Sunday at seven AM instead.”

“Yes, sir!” The answer pops out on its own, making both of you freeze in awkward silence for a few seconds. “I m-mean yes, of-of course.”

The twins are waiting for you when you exit the gym, both still in dirty training gear, but grinning from ear to ear at the sight of you and going as far as to jovially wrap you in the middle of a ginger-sandwich despite your own sweaty state of being.

“Not bad, sprout!” The one to your left beams. “Heard all the praise Taylor gave you. Not bad at all!”

Sprout? Maybe not a flattering nickname, but at least it’s cuter than “newbie” or “disaster” which have been the frequently used ones. It almost sounds friendly. Both Ian and Sean keep the compliments flowing as the three of you follow the utility path from the commons to the habitat area. Their quarters are in a different part than yours, of course, meaning that eventually you come to a crossroads where your paths diverge and the laughter and warm friendliness has to end.

“Hey, [Y/N],” possibly-Ian says hopefully, “a bunch of us are heading into town for a drink or two. Care to join?”

“Absolutely!” But then it hits you and your mood falls drastically. “Not sure I’m allowed to, being a newbie and all.” What would be the point of taking your phone and computer away, if you can just go into town and get in touch with the rest of the world there?

Both twins grin, patting yours and each others’ back. “No worries!” is the unison answer.

Maybe-Sean explains: “Standard protocol says you can’t go alone of with only greens but bring at least one seasoned employee of a higher rank and you’re good.”

“Yeah, you can check it in the grey binder.” His brother nearly whispers as if it’s a big secret he’s letting you in on. “So…pick you up in two hours, yeh? We’re gonna grab pizza’s and then beers at Donna’s so nothing wild.”

It’s not the rest Jemma had recommended, nor the recovery Taylor told you to ensure. On the other hand, it’s got to be the exact opposite of what Costa would want, and that’s a brilliant incentive to go and so the decision’s made in a heartbeat.

#mib/mcu #fanfiction #men in black #marvel cinematic universe #reader #writing #agents of shield #SHIELD #MCU #MIB #cross over

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aconitemare · 5 years

Text

[jaydick] The New RA pt. 2

The prompts I’m following.

Read on AO3. Now under its own title on AO3, The New RA!

Dick preferred front row seats wherever he went: concerts, movie theaters, games, medieval jousts, niche campus protests, absolutely any interaction between Bruce and Damian, drama between strangers at a party, and – classes. He made it a point to arrive early to every class so he could stake a claim to a desk in the front row. His notes were always better, it was harder for him to be distracted, and the professor called on him a lot more.

His ethics course met on Mondays and Wednesdays and although it was easy, it was still fun. Professor Prince went out of her way to engage students; the essay assignments were genuinely thought-provoking and class discussions maintained an atmosphere of both genuine interest and mutual respect. The only downside was that she never assigned group work, which was Dick’s favorite aspect of every class. So when she finally offered the choice of working on an upcoming project individually or in groups, Dick’s hand went flying in the air to offer his opinion.

Professor Prince motioned to him and Dick lowered his arm. “I think if we work in groups, we’ll be able to cover a lot more of the material as a class during presentations. Plus, what are ethics without societies, right? People come together to debate and decide upon what’s right and wrong, our moral codes depend on our relations to each other.”

“That’s an excellent point,” Professor Prince praised. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. I’ll start assigning groups and everyone can spend the last,” she glanced at the clock on the wall, “half hour deciding which way you’ll argue.” She picked up the roster and began writing the main topics of their current chapter with student names beneath them.

Someone in the back asked a question. “Can we argue differently from our group? Show both sides of the argument?” The voice was a man’s that struck Dick as vaguely familiar. Dick twisted around in his seat but couldn’t figure out from which end of the room the question had originated.

Professor Prince was still writing down names. “I don’t see why not, so long as your group agrees to it.” Dick’s name paired with two other names he didn’t recognize beneath the term death penalty. Already everyone was glancing around the room searching for faces they could pin to names.

It seemed Professor Prince was doing groups of four. The last name added to Dick’s group was Jason Todd. Dick instantly thought back to his RA, embarrassment threatening the corners of his mind. Before he could forcefully push the memory out of his head, though, the voice of the kid behind him crashed into the name with full force.

Dick’s head whipped around. He scanned the ascending rows of students who were standing up and beginning to mingle. If he hadn’t been searching, he wouldn’t have found Jason Todd in the far right seat in the last row, hunched over and scribbling furiously in his notebook. He was wearing the same leather jacket that brushed against Dick’s arms last weekend.

Dick wondered if Jason, too, knew he had ethics class with the guy who came on too strong that Saturday. Which one of them came on too strong? Dick probably had some fault in this situation. It wouldn’t have been the first time he had accidentally slept with someone.

“Please tell me you’re Richard Grayson.”

Dick breaks his bewildered stare to respond to the girl. She has long brown hair and doe eyes. He laughs and holds out a hand for her to shake. “Yeah, that’s me.” He glances at the whiteboard. The only other name is also a guy’s. “Are you Allie?”

“Yeah. Should I – ” Allie points her backpack to the chair next to him. Dick looks back to the top row where Jason has not made a move to get up.

“Actually, I think we should meet up with Jason over there. It doesn’t look like he’s budging.” Dick and Allie exchanged an amused expression but neither was going to enter a stand-off on principle. They began the trek up the stairs, collecting their fourth partner David along the way.

Jason’s look when the three of them sit beside him is truly imposed upon. When Jason made eye contact with Dick, his face tightened but there was no hint of surprise. So either Jason noticed him for the first time at the beginning of this class, or he had known of Dick before the dorm awkwardness.

Awesome.

The group introduced themselves. Dick had a few ideas milling about his head for the project but before he could voice them, Jason was passing down his notebook and outlining how he thought they should design the presentation.

“Wow,” Dick said, waiting for David to pass the notebook to him. “You’re fast, huh,” he observed.

“Yeah, I think we should do it like this,” David declared.

“Yeah, me too,” said Allie.

“Well, hold on, I haven’t seen his ideas yet,” Dick interjected. On cue, David passed him the notebook. Jason’s handwriting was meticulous and uniform to the point it almost looked typed. The organization checked out. Jason had written “Person 1” and “Person 2” and so on next to each aspect of the death penalty to delve into. There was definite flow and if this was a debate team, it had good bones for winning.

Dick looked past the classmates between them and straight at Jason. “Where are the points against the death penalty?” He was sure it was an oversight on Jason’s part, that he was getting to the next side when they all sat down.

Jason shrugged. “Couldn’t think of any.”

“You couldn’t think of any?” Dick repeated.

“That’s what I said.”

Allie chimed in. “I mean, we don’t have to include both sides, I’m pretty sure. I don’t think it matters.”

Dick cut a sharp glance at her. “Tell that to the people on death row,” he challenged. He immediately regretted it when Allie straightened up as if to pull away.

Jason adjusted in his chair so his knees were angled towards Dick. He was the picture of ease, which wasn’t fair, because Dick didn’t feel at ease whatsoever across from him. “Look, the professor said we don’t have to cover the same side of the argument. If you want to throw a few slides in for why the death penalty is bad, you should.”

“Oh, I’m free to throw a few slides in?” Dick said too quickly to reel in the sarcasm. Why hadn’t Jason approached him sooner? Was he mad Dick rejected him? This was a conflict of interest. “I think your bias is showing,” Dick threw down.

Both David and Allie’s spines were flush against their chairs now. “Because I didn’t include the opposite argument in an outline I made in less than three minutes? You’re the one getting worked up. Maybe you’ve got a bias, Dick,” Jason fired back.

David laughed uncomfortably. “Hey, guys, let’s not name-call.”

“That’s his name,” Jason said at the same time Dick said, “That’s my name.”

“Oh,” murmured Allie. “You go by that.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Dick conceded. “Maybe I don’t want to be a part of a presentation that expounds upon the merits of taking lives legally. Ethics class or not, it’s disturbing. I mean, it’s not like we’re doing – ” Dick read off a term from the white board, “Rehabilitation.” Dick winced. That sounded pretty important, too, actually.

“Would you calm down?” Jason asked. “We’re not on jury duty, okay, we’re not literally sending murderers to their deaths here. Although, it’s good to know that if we were, you’d be set to let the Joker walk free.”

Dick officially did not feel bad about slamming the door in Jason’s face anymore. “Not free,” he corrected, “just alive.”

“He’s out of Arkham every other news segment,” Jason exaggerated and waved a hand in the air. “The only way to stop scum like that is to put them down.”

Dick’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t help it. “And you’re in charge of my dormmates’ well-being, huh? That’s going to work out super well; you’re so compassionate.”

“Uh, I’m going to go,” announced Allie, and so she did, grabbing her books and squeezing by David and Dick.

“Is everything alright?” Professor Prince asked from closer than Dick expected. He didn’t dare break Jason’s intense glare though. He was only half-sure he was capable of looking away if he wanted to. Jason’s eyes burned like rope around his wrists.

“Everything’s fine, sorry, Professor,” replied Dick while Jason said, “I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m pretty sure it’s with me for whatever reason you’ve got bouncing around in that bobble head of yours.”

“That’s egotistical of you,” noted Dick.

Then Professor Prince was standing right by Dick’s shoulder. Jason and Dick broke away simultaneously to acknowledge the woman standing tall with her – shocking muscular, how was Dick just noticing this? – arms crossed against her chest. “It appears this argument has crossed over into the personal. I’m going to have to ask you two to leave so the rest of the class can be productive.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jason mumbled. He was rapidly gathering his stuff.

Dick hadn’t unpacked his bag and so he simply swung it over his shoulder. “My apologies,” he told her, hoping he came off earnest. “It won’t happen again.”

Professor Prince stepped to the side to allow them passage. “If it does, you know where to take it.” She pointed to the door.

Dick nodded. “Right.” He ducked his head in shame but managed not to scurry out lest he seem too scolded. Outside the classroom, he was tempted to head to the student center but decided to hang back instead. Dick’s temper tended to run more cool than hot and he was only a few steps away when he began to regret the escalation. So he leaned against the wall and waited until Jason had emerged.

Jason did not look nearly as calm. His brows were still pulled taut in angry slashes over his stormy eyes. He actually trudged right past Dick, his knuckles turning white over his backpack.

Dick pushed himself off the wall and hurried after. “Hey,” he said, “can we talk?”

“Again?”

“Would it sweeten the pot if I told you I was apologizing?” Dick tried.

“Thank you for the apology,” Jason said curtly.

“Okay,” said Dick, taking it in stride. Apologies were rarely comfortable for the apologizer. “I want you to know that I don’t actually care about the death penalty thing.” Dick grimaced. “Well, okay, I do care a lot actually and would love some day to talk to you about your views –” Jason made a pained noise, so Dick skipped over that part, “But anyway, that’s not an urgent thing. I’m just saying that though I think it’d be a mistake for you to send even the Joker to his deathbed, I wouldn’t think you’re a bad person for doing so.”

Jason stopped walking and gave him a disbelieving look. “You said you were apologizing, not giving me your hypothetical blessing.”

“I can do both.”

“No, because now it’s like you’re forgiving me for something that is literally never going to happen but I’m still at fault for.”

Dick had to taken a quiet moment to consider that. He didn’t like how Jason was putting him through the ringer here, but he was doing his best to sympathize and Dick could maybe see how his approach was off. He inhaled deeply. “Okay,” he said for a second time. Resetting. “You’re right. But I’m not done yet.”

“Seriously?” Jason said, but Dick could tell the anger was draining out of him. Dick smiled, appreciating the pout that was absolutely forming on Jason’s lips.

“I’m also sorry for slamming the door in your face,” he finally said. Jason looked away, which was comforting because it meant he was flustered over it too. “I stand by that I 100% was not hitting on you, but my bedside manner afterwards could’ve been gentler.” And because Dick’s mouth is its own trolley problem, he tacks on, “I know it’s not easy to be rejected by me.”

Jason’s mouth parted to say something when he closed it and walked off, leaving Dick to stand there and admire his own wit. “It was a joke!” he called after, but he let Jason be.

<<Previous Chapter // Next Chapter>>

#sorry if its boring i originally wrote chapter 3 first but midway i was like nah this needs a bridge #jaydick #jason todd #dick grayson #fanfiction for the void #dc

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intothedanvers-e · 6 years

Text

Young, Dumb, & Broke

Word Count: 2.6k (whoops)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You just graduated high school and were ready to embark on your last summer of being a dumb teen and going on adventures before having to face the realities of the adult world. One day you were driving to a lake to meet some of your friends when your car broke down in the middle of nowhere. With no service and no gas stations around you wandered a little down the street and found one house where you went to ask for help. You expected to find an old couple living in the middle of nowhere, but a nice young British guy (Tom) answered the door. Due to unforeseen circumstances you spend the rest of the afternoon and most of the night together, but when it’s time to leave he says he wants to see you again. You exchange numbers with the cute British guy and embark on a long, secretive summer fling. You both lie about what you do for a living and what you were both doing in the middle of nowhere, but the moments you too bonded were all genuine. Will he find out about your plans after summer? Will you find out what he actually does for a living? Will this fling extend past summer?

Authors Note: Thank you for all the feedback on this series! So i think im officially commiting to updating this once a week on Tuesdays! Mondays are usually a drag for me so i end up finishing a bunch of writing anyway and it helps perk me up for the rest of the week! I know its monday but next week ill update it on tuesday :) if you have any feedback/comments or would like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know!! this chapter is a little longer but I wanted to sort of finish this part to move on to cuter angsty stuff ;) i genuinely hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoy writing it!! thanks for readin <3

Here’s my masterlist!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 5

Chapter 4

You jumped up from the couch, your phone alarm startling you awake. You quickly turned it off trying not to wake up a sleeping Tom on the other couch. It was too late, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He smiled at you as soon as he saw you were awake.

“Sorry about that, I forgot I put an alarm on my phone so I can get up to shower. I didn’t mean to wake you up”

“S’alright. I should probably make breakfast before we go on and take a look at your car,” he said getting up from under his blanket.

“Oh you don’t have to come with me I don’t want- “

“Already decided!” he yelled as he walked into the kitchen.

He started playing music from a speaker as the sound of pots and pans being shifted around became louder. You quickly took a shower and came back out to meet Tom for what you thought was a quick breakfast. To your surprise he’d made a full spread; pancakes, cut up fruit, a ham and cheese omelet and some toast.

“Whoa thank you for breakfast,” you said sitting down in the seat next to him.

He just gave you a big smile considering he was already shoving things in his mouth. His hair was super bed-head curly and his eyes seemed sleepy but content. He looked adorable to say the least. You realized you were staring at him and quickly looked down at your various plates of food, quietly cursing yourself for staring at him for so long and hoping he hadn’t noticed.

“The car should be coming to get us at about 10, if that’s ok with you.”

“Do you mean like a taxi or something?”

“Uhh yeah,” he said quickly.

“You didn’t have to; I could’ve just walked.”

“Nonsense. Y/N when will you just let me be nice to you?”

You blushed and simply nodded your head. You spent all night trying to not be an inconvenience you didn’t even consider maybe he was just a really nice guy. He finished all the food in front of him and got up quickly.

“I’m going to go get ready before they come get us,” he said walking toward the stairs, “don’t you dare wash dishes, just put them in the dishwasher okay?”

You shot him a thumbs up and he disappeared up the stairs. 30 minutes later he walked into the living room as you were casually laying on the couch reading a book. You looked up at him and felt the butterflies again. His outfit was nothing special, a plain white shirt with regular jeans and a dark flannel, and his hair was slightly more tamed but just looking at him made your heart race. You didn’t want to admit it, but you may have a slight crush on him. You sat up as he walked over to you and plopped down on the couch next to you. He had a small box in his hands.

“I, uh, found an extra one of these in one of my suitcases. I ordered one online and they accidentally sent two. I was going to return it but seeing how much you like the character I really think you should have him.”

He handed you a tiny box with a Spiderman keychain in it. He was hanging upside down in his classic spidey suit.

“Oh my god this is adorable. He’ll look great next to my tiny Iron-Man. Thank you.”

“Just a little something to remember last night by,” he said looking deep into your eyes.

“How could I ever forget?”

He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. He looked at the watch on his wrist and stood up.

“The car should be here any minute if you’d like to wait outside.”

“Sounds good.”

He quickly grabbed your duffel bag and headed out the door. You were going to tell him you didn’t mind carrying it, but stopped yourself and let him be a gentleman. He locked the door as a fancy blacked out Range Rover pulled up.

“What kind of taxi service is this?” you said your eyes almost popping out of their sockets.

“It’s not. He’s more like a, uh, chauffer?”

You turned to him and looked at him like he was crazy.

“What?!”

“Hey I’m not old enough to drive a rental car so, uh, my friend Harrison always manages to hire a chauffeur for if I need to get around places! It’s no big deal, I know the guy.” he said doing a quick handshake with the driver who had gotten off to open the back door for you. You climbed in the car shaking your head at Tom who got on the other side. Within a few minutes you were pulling up next to the mechanic. You could see that they were working on your car. You quickly thanked the driver and climbed off. Tom grabbed your bag and sent the driver on his way.

“Hey if I need you I’ll call you big guy. You’re the best man.”

They did their little handshake and he drove off. The both of you walked into the small office together. A middle aged man turned around in his chair to face you.

“How can I be of service to you today?” he said in a thick southern accent.

“Hi I’m Y/N, uh my car is the one that got picked up late last night. The small green one.”

“Oh that car. Got some of my best guys working on it, although I will say I do think you’d be better off selling that piece of junk and buying a new car little lady. Don’t know how much longer it’ll last.”

“I just need it to last through the summer.”

“Well let’s go ask Hal how it’s comin along and we’ll see if it’s even fixable okay lil lady?”

You nodded and followed close behind him, Tom close on your heels. You walked over to the car and saw that four guys were working on various different parts of it. The guy from the office was talking to who you assumed was Hal. You took a step closer to see if you could hear anything. Hal turned to look at you and extended his hand toward you.

“Hello ma’am I’m Hal, the best mechanic at this here Complete Auto Body. I take it this is your car?”

“I’m Y/N, yeah this is my baby.”

“Well no offence ma’am but I think she’s far gone. We can repair her for the time being and make her drivable but I think in about six months’ time you’ll be back in here with some irreparable damage. Might consider selling her off.”

“Six-month reliability is fine. I just need her to pull me through the summer.”

The guy looked at you confused and nodded. He turned to the three guys who were all hovering around your car.

“Well you heard the lady.”

They all went back to working on your car. The guy from the office walked you back into the tiny room.

“They should be done within the hour ma’am. If you give me a few minutes I can gather up a quote for you.”

You nodded and he left the room quickly. You and Tom sat on two chairs that were up against a wall. He turned to look at you and you realized he had a confused look on his face.

“What?”

“Why do you only need your car through summer? Are you planning on buying a new one?”

You looked down and started picking at your nails.

“No but, um, I’m moving away after the summer. I was planning on selling my car right before I moved so that I don’t have any more baggage that I don’t need.”

“Oh for like college or something?”

“Yeah kind of. I just need it to get me to and from work this summer. After my last shift I’ll drive it off to sell it and I’ll be done with this town.”

“I thought you liked it here?”

“I do, I guess. But I just need a change of scenery. Its home. It’ll always be home; I don’t think my mom wants to move anywhere else. I just need to not feel like I’ll be stuck here forever you know?”

He gave you an empathetic smile and looked like he was about to tell you something but was cut off by the guy walking back into the office.

“Here you go ma’am,” he said handing you a yellow receipt.

You smiled and looked down at the paper. You felt like your head was going to fly off your body.

“1500 dollars?!”

He walked over to you and began explaining everything you were paying for but you couldn’t hear a word he was saying. All you could think about was how big of a setback this would be toward you finally getting away from this town. You had just about 1500 in your savings account but that was going straight toward your moving away fund, or at least it was supposed to. You suddenly thought about the emergency credit card your mom gave you. She would probably be mad as hell if you used it but at least this way you could pay her back in payments and not all at once. It would set you back a month or two but you could continue to make the payments from anywhere in the world which meant you could technically still leave whenever you had enough money. You cut the guy off and stood quickly.

“I need to make a phone call.”

You quickly walked out of the office and dialed your mom. She was out of town and probably working but you had to try, you didn’t want her to find out about the credit card charge from the bank but from you instead. It went straight to voicemail. You tried a few more times with no luck. You decided to try one last time and this time it only rang once and went to voicemail. You decided to leave a message.

“Hey mom. So something came up and don’t panic but good ole Patricia took a beating last night. No it wasn’t a crash but she got pretty fucked up. Anyway unfortunately it’s about 1500 to fix her and, uh, I’m using the emergency card to pay it. Please don’t be mad. I’m going to pay you back every last cent, with interest if you want. I’m really sorry. I know I fucked up. Call me back. Bye.”

You hung up and groaned into the sky. This was just your luck. You wanted nothing but to leave and expand your horizons but something kept having you tethered here. Despite how nice and good you were to people, you always seemed to get the worst karma. While you were standing there feeling sorry for yourself Hal walked over to you.

“She’s all yours ma’am. My boys are just dustin’ her off for you.”

“Thank you Hal. I just need to go back inside and pay her off.”

“My pleasure ma’am. Be safe out there.”

He shook your hand and quickly walked off. You dug your wallet out of your backpack and walked back into the office. To your surprise Tom was standing in front of the man’s desk shaking his hand.

“Nice doing business with you kind sir.”

“Yeah whatever,” the man said handing him your car keys. He saw your confused expression and quickly pushed you out of the office.

“I have to, uh, pay him.”

“All taken care of Y/N,” he said pushing you toward your car.

“What are you talking about Tom? I can’t just leave without paying him.”

“It’s paid for,” he said using your key to open your trunk to set down your duffel bag.

“What do you- “

It instantly clicked in your head. Had he just paid 1500 dollars to get you your car back?

“Tom what the fuck?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you just pay 1500 dollars?”

“No.”

“Tom!”

“Not technically.”

“TOM WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Can you please get in the car and I’ll explain everything where 15 guys with heavy tools can’t hear us?”

You quickly climbed in the driver’s seat. Your heart felt like it was going to pop out of your chest and it felt like you were sweating bullets. You didn’t like owing people things, and you already felt like you owed Tom a lot for letting you crash at his place overnight; you didn’t want to owe him actual money at this point.

“I’ll pay it all back. We just need to go to an ATM so I can take the money out of my savings,” you said turning the car on.

“No Y/N it’s really not a problem. The guy was trying to scam you. While he was explaining everything you were essentially paying for, some things weren’t adding up. I know a thing or two about fixing and restoring old cars, and he was telling you about things that didn’t even exist. When you left to talk to your mom I asked to see the receipt and called his bluff. You really only owed him 650 dollars, so I decided to pay it off so you never had to look at that sleazebag again.”

You were trying to process everything he was saying, your head was spinning so much you had to pull over.

“Wait how did you know I left to call my mom?”

“The windows might have been open?”

You gave him a death glare.

“Okay look think of this as an investment. I could tell by the tone in your voice that you’re the kind of person who hates asking people for things, especially your mom. I figured you’d probably been saving up to move out of here for as long as you could remember and I didn’t want this to fuck it up. I’m investing into your future Y/N. I could feel the passion you had in your dreams from the way you talked about them last night in the pool, and I believe in you. I had the resources to help you, so I did. No strings attached. I just really didn’t want to see a bad thing happen to a good person.”

You sat there a second without saying anything, hands glued to your steering wheel.

“650 dollars is still a lot Tom. I can’t just accept that from anyone, especially someone who has already opened their home and risked their life to give me a place to crash. Let me pay you back, please?”

“Y/N I promise you you don’t need to.”

“Let me be your unofficial tour guide,” you said quickly.

“What?”

“Let me show you around, from the point-of-view of someone who knows this town like the back of my hand. Whenever I’m not working and you’re not busy I’ll come pick you up and we’ll go on an adventure.”

He looked at you and smiled.

“Deal. I was hoping this wouldn’t be the last time I would see you this summer.”

You pulled off the side of the road and began driving.

“Oh you and I are going to get real close this summer Tom. That’s my official Y/N promise, and I never break a promise.”

You took a quick glance at him and smiled, he gave you his signature goofy smile with a slight shade of pink in his cheeks. Your summer just got a lot more interesting.

Tag-list: @hollandlovely @greenarrowhead @justanotherfangirl2015 @oh-dear-tommy @marvelnerdxinfinity @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @hollandhugs @tiredofallthetroubles @marvel-ing-at-it-all @built4broadway

strikethrough means i cant tag you for some reason :(

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spideytommyy-blog · 6 years

Text

Unforgettable | Peter Parker X Reader (Part One)

Pairing: Peter Parker X Reader

Word Count: 3,098

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Summary: you kinda blush a lot

A/N: Thank you so much for reading if you’d like to be tagged at the end for the next part just let me know

Peter sighed as he slipped into the booth seat across from you, caramel ice coffee in on hand, and his camera in another. He runs his fingers through his curls, frustration clear on his facial features. Dropping the camera on the table, he removes his hands from his hair and rests his face into his palms with a whiny groan. You look around the small coffee shop that is occupied with the usual crowd, some business men, a group of middle aged women that you perceived to be a book club, they meet every Thursday, and a handful of old ladies making over the male barista behind the counter. It was your usual, five p.m. coffee buzz.

You look back at Peter, his eyes now locked on his fingers that were grazing the condensation that collected on the outside of his cup. You look at him, trying to make eye contact. You soon break your stare and grab his backpack that was laying under the table. Peter watches you with lazy eyes, not caring if you invade his privacy.

You reach into his bag and pull out three pictures, all of the red and blue masked figure. One picture of him swinging in between buildings, one shooting a web at a high speed chase on 39th street, and in the last one, hes climbing up a building, windows in the reflection of his eye pieces.

"Wow" you say eyeing the last photo. You flip the picture over to see '$150' in Peter's handwriting.

"He told me that they are junk and his four year old niece could take a better ones." Peter said taking the three photographs and crumpling them up.

"I thought they were pretty kick ass if you ask me." You said giving him a sad smile as you watched Peter shove the crumpled balls into his backpack.

"Thanks, but unless you're willing to give me $150 for each, that doesn't really help."

Peter has been selling these pictures of Spider Man to the Daily Bugle for about four months now, that seems to be all that anyone can talk about.

"Hey are you going to the dance tomorrow?" You asked, desperately trying to change the subject so his mood wouldn't worsen.

"I thought about it," laying the side of his head on his hand, he looks into your eyes "what about you? Are you going?"

"Yeah Ned, Mj, and I are gonna meet at my house. We've been asking you all week, what's stopping you?" You already knew the answer to that question, but you wanted to hear it from him.

"Well I have the internship for starters—"

"And?"

"And..Liz will, uh, will be there. You know she volunteers there." Peter said, a slight blush running across his cheeks.

"You know she's on the homecoming committee right? Plus you told me she was at the complete opposite side of the building." You scoffed "I'm pretty sure she won't ditch on her own dance."

"Yeah, but what if I run into her?"

You reach across the table and grab Peters hands, yours growing sweaty. Peters heart raced at the sudden contact, but he wasn't sure why.

"Please come Pete. You can meet with us at my house, it will be fun!" You stick your bottom lip out, giving him your never-failing puppy dog look.

Peter tried to resist, but soon gave in. "Fine", he rolled his eyes, "I'll go."

"Yes!" You exclaimed, almost jumping out of your seat. Releasing your hands, you quickly miss the soft, but rough texture of his.

You both looked down, red in the cheeks at your now empty hands, when your phone buzzed showing a message from Rose flash on the screen.

"Oh shit sorry Pete, I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow." Giving him a warm smile, you got up and left the coffee shop, still feeling the lingering sensation of Peters hands in yours.

As you leave, Peter watches you through the window before getting up, and leaving the same way you did. He made sure to keep an eye on you as he followed you from the tops of buildings. As you walked inside the lobby of your building, Peter let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding. He worries about you a lot, definitely more than is healthy. You're special to him.

Your light in your room flickers on signaling that you've gotten home safely. Peter tugs his cloths off revealing his suit underneath, and looking around, he made sure no one would see him stuffing his hoodie and jeans into his backpack . Pete took one last glance at your window and there you were, sitting in bed writing. He’s always wondered what you write about in the black leather journal you always carry around, he wouldn't dare look though. Personal space is something that is very important to you, and you've always hated answering questions, so as guessed, Peter had a million unanswered ones.

With a flick of his wrist, Peter shoots a web in the opposite direction of your building, swinging off into the night.

-------------------------------------------------——————

You and Liz weren't necessarily friends, but you could never hate her. You hated how you couldn't hate her, she made Peter happy. And for some reason, you were the one person she always confided in when she needed advice, and being you, you were there for her.

You woke up to your phone buzzing, groaning in pain from the sudden harsh light that burned into your corneas. '6 new messages from Liz' your phone read. You sighed as you read the pleas for help.

(Y/n) are you awake? I'm sorry to bother you :/

I really need some advice please answer

Before you ask, yes its about the dance tomorrow

And I was wondering if you knew if peter was going or not?

Sorry I know its late I just need someone to talk to

Ill just see you tomorrow at school I guess

" Why don't you ask him yourself? I'm sure he would be happy to hear from you." You rolled your eyes and turned off your phone. No you didn't hate Liz, but the feeling was pretty close. You envied her. You wanted Peter to look at you the way he looked at her. You wanted him to take a different and completely-out-of-the-way rout to class for you like he did for her. You wanted to be the one he couldn't stop thinking about, but you wouldn't be. You never would be. You were the new friend in the friend group, you two only knowing each other for a year. Peter and Liz have been friends since Peter was a freshman, how could you compete?

The feeling made you angry. You were so deep into your thoughts that you didn't even realize the smoke coming from under your sheets, or the heat that formed in the palm of your hands. Quickly realizing the small fire starting on one of the corners of your comforter, you patted the small area down frantically with your hand, putting out the flame.

Slowly but surely these random anger outbursts were getting stronger and even more dangerous. No one knew you had these powers, and you didn't know where they came from. You've had them since you were 10, at least that's when you first noticed them. You watched the power develop over the years, mostly because you had server anger issues.

You always figured you inherited them from your parents, but there was no way of ever knowing. You had no other blood family, and when you were adopted, there were no files on them. It was like they never even existed.

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

The next day went pretty slow, just your regular Friday, except the homecoming committee members were running around doing last minute preparations for later tonight. Making your way to your last period of the day, you see Peter and Liz talking by the library, and luckily, your locker was a few feet away so you could hear them.

"H-hey Liz" Peter said with a slight stutter. He only stuttered around her, and you'd always wish he had better confidence.

"Oh hey Peter! Its good to catch you, you've missed a few decathlon practices, are you ok?" Liz rested her palm on Peters shoulder, and you noticed him stiffen.

"Oh y-yeah I'm-I'm fine yeah um, just been, busy."

You were glad someone else was aware of Peters disappearances, even if it was her.

"Well I'm glad I caught you, I wanted to ask you something." Liz said shyly as she put a piece of hair behind her ear. You turned to face into your locker trying to not make it obvious that you were eavesdropping.

"I've just been so busy with homecoming and the decathlon that I haven't had a chance to find a date, so I was wondering if maybe, you'd want to go with me?"

Your palms slowly started growning warmer and warmer as the conversation was going on, and being so engulfed in it, you hadn't noticed the smell of heating metal coming from your right hand. You slowly closed the door afraid that anyone saw, especially Pete. If he knew you had these powers, he would probably think you were some freak.

You grabbed your bag and plugged in your headphones walking passed them, hoping they wouldn't notice you, and they didn't.

You decided to skip the last period of the day considering you were doing nothing in that class anyways. Walking out the side exit, you found a small bank of snow sitting within freshly cut bushes. You bent down onto your knees, shoving your hands into the freezing snow. They sizzled and returned to normal in a matter of seconds.

"(Y/n), what are you doing?"

Jumping, you stood up, turning around to see Ned in the door of where you just exited. You grab you chest and exhale a small laugh.

"Ned you scared the shit out of me." You slung your bookbag back over your left shoulder as Ned gave you a suspicious look.

"Why are you out here its freezing? And we have a Spanish quiz this period!" Ned exclaimed holding his Spanish notes in front of him. You sighed and kicked at the now halfway melted snow bank. "I'm going home, I'm not feeling good I'll probably just make it up on Monday."

"Is it about Peter going to the dance with Liz?" You snapped your head up and Ned just let out a loud giggle.

"How do you-"

"Oh please everyone pretty much knows except Peter. Hes always been oblivious." Ned rolled his eyes and shrugged. "I think you should just tell him (y/n)."

"Yeah that's NEVER going to happen." You said sending a sharp glare in Ned's direction. He sent you a sad smile and your glare went soft. "Don't do that. Don't pity me I'll be fine." You said quietly looking down at your wet shoes.

Ned walked closer and gave you a warm hug. "If you ever need to talk about anything you know you'll always have Mj and I." You were grateful for the friendship you had developed with Ned and Mj over the past few months, they were both hilarious and always there for you when Pete wasn't. "Thanks Ned, I know. Ill see you tonight." You smiled at him one more time before turning and walking to the direction of your apartment, leaving school grounds.

Ned took his seat next to Peter in class, yours was empty in front of them.

"Ned where is (y/n)? I saw her in the hallway like five minutes ago."

Ned wouldn't make eye contact with him, so he knew something was up. "She-she uh, wasn't feeling good so she went home."

Before Peter could call him out for lying, the teacher announced that the quiz was going to begin. He decided to shoot you a quick text.

"Hey Ned said you weren't feeling well? Text me ok?"

You rolled you eyes at the message and sent a 'Just tired :)' back so he wouldn't think anything was up, but Peter knew better.

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

Later that night Ned and Mj brought two pizzas over before you got ready. You had just went to go sit down as you heard three soft knocks on your door. Mj smirked at you as you darted to answer. Behind it was Peter in a tux, with a small red rose corsage in hand. How much you wished he looked like that for you. Your eyes went wide at the sight of him and your cheeks a slight shade of pink.

"Wow Parker knows how to tie a tie." Mj said sarcastically as she stood behind you smirking at the sight of you practically swooning.

Peter let out a small giggle, "Well uh actually, May had to find a video on YouTube." he said rubbing the back of his neck.

You took a step to the side giving him space to walk in.

"Mj and Ned b-brought pizza i-if you want any." You sounded like a stuttering fool.

Peter gave you a weird look and asked if you were feeling alright. "Y-yeah. I'll be right back." You turned on your heel and sped walked to your bathroom.

You looked in the mirror and noticed how red your face was, mostly from embarrassment. "What are you doing!" You whisper-yelled looking at your flushed reflection. Letting out a deep sigh you grabbed the door handle, but before the door fully opened, you heard a familiar laugh coming from the kitchen.

Making your way out of the bathroom and down the hallway, you hear the voice of Liz Allen. Her and Peter were dishing up pizza while Ned and Mj sat at the bar, Mj reading a book, and Ned noticing you, eyes going wide in a 'I had no idea' fashion. Peter noticed Ned's direction of stare and turned to see you stunned in the entrance way of the small kitchen.

Liz turned as well and greeted you with a loose hug. "(Y/n)! Thank you so much for inviting me over, how cute will it be when we all show up together!" You plastered the fakest smile that you ever had to make on your face, "Yeah I just thought it would be sooo cute."

Mj snorted with her face hidden in her book, and Ned jabbed her with his elbow, causing peter to look back over at the both of them and, Ned giving him a toothy grin.

"Well I gotta go get ready so I'll be back."

"Hey wait I'm coming too." Mj said closing her book and sliding off the bar stool. "Can I come?" Ned begged with pleading eyes. "No Ned." Mj said without turning around.

"Are you sure (y/n) is ok? She's acting...strange." Peter said leaning over and whispering to Ned. "Yeah she's completely fine."

Mj took a seat on your bed watching you apply a small amount of makeup on your face. You didn't wear much makeup in general, but you figured you would actually try to look presentable. "You didn't invite her did you?" Mj asked, her features sad as she looked at you through the mirror.

"Nope. But its whatever." You grabbed your pink-nude lip gloss and applied it, rubbing your lips together. "I'm going to have fun tonight."

"You should make him jealous. Flash is going to be there ya know."

You ran the idea through your head and all the scenarios that could possibly play out as the result of hanging with him. You didn't want to hurt Peter, its not like he knows you have feelings for him, but you don't want to be moping all night. "You know what Mj? You are a genius."

She laughed and stood up from the bed. "Lets go, we don't want to be too fashionably late."

You all left to the school in different cars. Peter and Liz in one, You, Mj, and Ned in the other. "He's so obnoxious when shes around." Ned pouted while looking through the rear view mirror.

Peter did act different around Liz, almost like he was trying to be 'cool' to impress her, you three however suffered secondhand embarrassment. He acted completely opposite of himself, except for the shameless stuttering.

Pulling into the parking lot you watch as Peter and Liz walked into the doors, hand in hand. Mj noticed your disappointed face and gave your shoulder a quick squeeze accompanied with a small smile. "Remember the plan, it will get to him trust me." She ensures as she hops out of the car, Ned following her lead.

You decided to shake off the small tang of sadness that choked the back of your throat. You, Ned, and Mj walked in, arms linked. The loud music boomed through the doors and through the windows you saw the different colored lights shining on the dancing bodies. The three of you made your way in, Mj heading straight to the food booth, and Ned going to find you all a table.

Looking around you noticed Peter by the punch bowl, not wanting him to see you, you rip your head into the opposite direction, but of course, he did notice you. "(Y/n)! (Y/n)!" You turned to see Peters hands cupped around his mouth. He smiled and signaled for you to join him. "Oh hey Pete, I didn't see you there." Peter looked you up and down, taking in your appearance for the first time. He wasn't able to at before because he was too busy drooling over Liz to even notice you. "Y-you look, wow" He said at a loss for words.

"I guess we know how to clean up huh?" You stifled a small giggle, trying make the situation less awkward.

"(Y/n)," Flash greeted you with a flirtatious voice, "Hey Penis Parker."

"Flash what do you-" Peter tried to say before being cut off.

Flash turned to face you, "Mj said you wanted to dance?" He held out a hand for you to take. You took a quick glance at Peter, his expression plastered with various emotions of confusion, shock, and even a little hurt. You smiled back up to Flash and took his hand. "Yes, yes I do." Your cheeks turning a light shade of pink, knowing what you planed was beginning to work. You both turned to leave when Peter grabbed your free arm.

"(Y/n), what are you doing?" You slowly pulled your arm away, "Have fun Pete." You and Flash walk into the crowd, leaving behind a hurt Peter.

19 notes · View notes

purrincess-chat · 6 years

Text

How to Catch a Ladybug CH4 FINAL

So, I would have had this one out sooner, buuuuut I picked up Hyrule Warriors Definitive Edition on Switch and spent most of my afternoon playing >,> But anyway, here is the last chapter of HCL! Much like the rest of this story, this chapter is a lot of Lila-meta, so, um, sorry or you’re welcome? XD

Read on AO3 | FF

Chapter 4

The following Monday at school, Lila stuffed her books inside her locker with a dazed look in her eye. Her mind was still a mess of truth and lies, unable to distinguish between the two anymore. Who was she now without her façade? Somehow she’d lost sight of that pretending to be someone she wasn’t, and as a result, she didn’t know what to say or even how to fake a smile. She both longed to see Marinette and simultaneously dreaded it though it was for a different reason than normal now because now she was going to confess her sins to her and beg for forgiveness.

It was uncharted territory for Lila. Schmoozing was easy when it was fake, but Lila had never had to genuinely convince someone of something before. She felt so open and exposed as if everyone could see right through her, and it made her skin crawl. Was it too late to transfer schools? If ever she wanted to run away and forget a place, it was this one.

“Lila?” She startled, twisting around to see Marinette standing behind her with a worried expression. “Are you feeling better? Rose told me you felt sick on Saturday and had to leave early.”

Her brows were knitted together, eyes filled with concern, and Lila felt her heart skip. She should hate her face. She wanted to hate her face. But she didn’t. Truthfully Lila had done a lot of thinking over the weekend, and the realization that Marinette’s actions had all been genuine and likely to make up for her behavior had flipped everything Lila had ever known on its head. No one had ever been her friend before. Not really anyways, and Lila wasn’t quite sure how to process it. She was, however, sure of one thing: she had developed a hopeless crush on Marinette overnight.

It made her whole confession scheme all the more daunting, though also all the more necessary. Lila had never been in love before. Not like this anyway. Sure, she’d set her sights on the hot popular types before, but it usually came with an ulterior motive. But this was different. This made her skin clammy and her hands shaky, and she didn’t know what to do with that.

“Yeah, I got a little stomach bug. I was over it in a day, so it’s fine now,” She said, the lie coming out smoothly, but her face quickly fell. “Um, I’m sorry I missed the rest of your party.”

“That’s okay. I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” Marinette placed her hands on Lila’s shoulders with a cheerful smile that made her spine stiffen. “Hey, why don’t you sleep over this weekend to make up for it?”

“Oh, uh, I- that sounds…great,” She stammered, and Marinette tilted her head to the side, slipping a hand under Lila’s bangs to press her hand to her forehead.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You still feel a little warm.” Lila’s cheeks burned under her concerned gaze, and she swatted Marinette’s hand away.

“I’m fine, and I’ll totally be there Saturday,” She said, and Marinette’s sunniness returned easily.

“Awesome! I can’t wait; I can ask Papa to make my grandma’s pizza for us, and we’ll have tons of movies and games and-” She prattled on as they walked to class, and Lila rubbed her temple with an internalized groan.

This was going to be harder than she thought.

The longer she put it off, the more her guilt was going to eat at her, but there really wasn’t a good time to talk to Marinette alone. She really did know everyone at school, and there was always someone else nearby anytime Lila approached with even a fraction of the confidence she needed. But she had Saturday night to look forward to where she was certain to get Marinette alone if the wait didn’t kill her first.

The mixture of dread and eagerness was doing a number on her mental health, but nonetheless she managed to survive until Saturday. She spent the day watching the clock impatiently until it was finally time to go to Marinette’s house. Her parents weren’t home, as usual, so she locked up and headed out.

“You’re here!” Marinette pulled her into a tight hug the moment she opened the door.

“I told you I would be,” Lila said, patting her back awkwardly.

“Come on in! Papa is almost done with the pizza, and I downloaded that Italian love drama that you recommended,” Marinette said, taking her wrist and pulling her inside.

“Welcome, Lila,” Mrs. Cheng greeted with a smile. “Don’t be shy just make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” Lila said, twisting the strap on her duffle bag in knots.

“It’s always good to have another Italian in the house,” Her father commented with a grin. “I’ve been perfecting a Bolognese for quite some time now, and I’d love to get your opinion of it sometime.”

“Uh, sure.” Lila nodded, and Marinette placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, you can put your bag up in my room,” She said, pointing up the stairs, and Lila followed after her like a baby duckling.

Her parents were so warm and welcoming, and it weirded Lila out a little bit but in a good way she supposed. It was nice to have people interested in her comfort and, as the proper Italian that Mr. Dupain was, her hunger level. Every time she turned around almost they offered her tea and cookies, bread, cheese, cake, and Lila hadn’t eaten so much since Christmas at her grandmother’s house.

“Well, we’re going to go clean up downstairs while you two watch your movie. Let us know if you need anything,” Mrs. Cheng said as Marinette flopped on the couch beside Lila with a bowl of popcorn.

“Okay. Thanks, Mama,” She said, nodding over her shoulder as her parents retreated downstairs. “Sorry, I know they can be a bit overwhelming sometimes.”

“It’s okay. They’re nice,” Lila said, hugging her knees to her chest.

“What are your parents like?” Marinette asked, clicking the remote to turn on the TV.

“They’re…busy.” Lila shrugged, and Marinette winced apologetically as if she’d broached a sensitive subject which, she had, but Lila wasn’t going to guilt her about it. “They just work a lot that’s all. It’s no biggie.”

“I’m sorry. That must be really lonely,” Marinette said, reaching out to place her hand over Lila’s gently, and Lila fixed her gaze on it, cheeks flushing a little.

“Sometimes, but I manage.” She shrugged. Not very well, as it seemed, but she was hoping to work on that.

“You’re always welcome here if you ever want some company,” Marinette said, and Lila opened her mouth to confess her sins only to be interrupted by the title screen music of their movie.

She faced forward as Marinette hit play and clamped her mouth shut, heart hammering in her chest. Close, but Lila needed more time to find her courage. Sleepovers were a place for really personal and intimate heart-to-hearts, right? Wasn’t that more or less why truth or dare was invented? At least she had cheesy Italian romance to calm her nerves for a while. If only her problems could be solved as simply as the ones in movies.

When the movie finally ended, it was getting late, and Marinette suppressed a yawn. Lila’s pulse quickened, a lump forming in her throat as Marinette turned off the television and turned to her. Should she say it now? Could she say it now? They were alone, but was Lila ready to deal with the consequences of what she had to say?

Worst case scenario, Marinette threw her out and never spoke to her again, but on the other hand, she could totally forgive her then they could enjoy a wonderful evening together. And Lila would be rid of all of her guilt, but the ever looming threat of the first scenario made her stomach churn.

“You ready for bed?” Marinette asked, stretching her arms over her head, and Lila nodded, standing up and heading for the stairs.

“Hey, Marinette…” She blurted boldly before she could overthink it, stopping short on the steps.

“Yeah?” Marinette glanced up at her and cocked a brow.

“Can I tell you something?” She asked, clutching fistfuls of her pajama pants to keep her hands from shaking.

“Of course, what is it?” She prompted with an encouraging smile, and Lila bit her lip, swallowing back a lump in her throat.

“I-I…” Her bravery was cut short when Mr. Dupain’s footsteps sounded in the hallway and seconds later the front door opened.

“Hey, girls, having fun?” He beamed, strolling in casually.

“Yeah, I think we’re gonna head to bed,” Marinette said as her dad filled a cup with water and tipped it back.

“Can I ask you a favor?” He asked, rinsing the cup and setting it in the dishwasher.

“Sure, Papa, what’s up?” Marinette paced down a few steps to meet him.

“I hate to ask this of you, sweetie, but can you repair my apron sometime soon?” Her father asked with an apologetic wince, holding it out to her, and Marinette accepted it without hesitation.

“Of course, Papa. I’ll sew it up tonight,” She said as if it weren’t a big deal.

“It can wait until tomorrow since you have a friend over,” He insisted, waving his hands frantically.

“It won’t take me long,” She said, examining the tear.

“If you’re sure…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you, honey.”

“You’re welcome, Papa.” She stretched up to peck his cheek before following Lila up the stairs to her room. “Good night!”

“Good night.”

“You don’t have to stay up with me,” Marinette said retrieving her sewing kit.

“It’s fine. I’m not tired yet,” She insisted, politely omitting the fact that she was too anxious to fall asleep as of late.

They were alone now, and yet Lila couldn’t bring herself to say much. She couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth. Maybe it was because she wanted to cling to this normalcy and camaraderie for as long as she could since she’d never had real friendships like this before. But this wasn’t real because Lila had always just told lies and put on a face. She’d been so absorbed in her mission that she missed the first opportunity she had to make real friends, and once she told Marinette the truth, she was certain that everything was going to change between them. So, if she were being honest, the real reason she couldn’t bring herself to do it was because she was a coward. Lies were comfortable, and they were all she’d ever known. Even if Marinette forgave her, Lila would start her journey down a long and unfamiliar road, and it terrified her.

So she sat quietly on the chaise next to Marinette, watching her fix the stitching on her father’s apron, wallowing in self-pity and regret until she’d finally finished and stretched her arms above her head with a yawn.

“Ready for bed?” Marinette asked, and Lila nodded, so she stood up to put away her supplies before they both crawled into her bed. “I’m really glad you came tonight. It’s been fun to spend time together with just the two of us.”

“Yeah…” She winced, settling down on her side, and Marinette laid beside her, her face only inches away enough that her breath swirled around Lila’s cheeks.

“I’m really glad that we’re friends, Lila,” She said, taking Lila’s hands in her own. “I hope we can become even closer.”

Lila pressed her lips into a firm line, studying the look in Marinette’s eyes. They were always filled with so much light when they looked at her, and she wondered how anyone could convey such genuine emotion like that. She envied her, her life, her loving relationship with her parents…Deep down it was something that Lila had always wanted but never gotten, so she’d adapted to the life she had. So maybe, if she were lucky, if she hoped and prayed hard enough, she could have a life like Marinette’s someday. A life with friends and happiness and love.

She gave Marinette’s hand a gentle squeeze, a small smile curling on her lips. “Me too.”

Marinette seemed pleased by her response, and she reached up to turn off the light before settling in contently. Lila waited until her breathing slowed and evened out before blinking her eyes open again. She reached out to brush strands of hair behind Marinette’s ear, running her thumb over the earrings. A week ago, Lila would have jumped at such an opportunity to have Marinette so vulnerable before her, such an easy target for her sleight of hand, but things were different now, and Lila couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not after everything Marinette had done for her.

Ladybug had humiliated her on her first day, but Marinette helped her move past that and do something Lila had never done before. Every day when she went to school now, people stopped her in the halls to tell her good morning or compliment her outfit. She had people to sit with at lunch who weren’t just interested in the fantastical stories she had to tell. People who cared about more than just her lies.

In a weird way, Lila was grateful that Ladybug had called her out because if she hadn’t then Lila wouldn’t be lying in a bed with a friend, but rather, she’d likely be at home, alone with nothing but fake admirers and two busy parents. In an instant that road seemed a lot less daunting, and Lila realized that maybe she’d been taking steps down it all this time without realizing.

Because she did find Kim’s jokes funny and Nino’s remixes catchy. She cared about Rose’s letters to Prince Ali, Alix’s new rollerblades, and Max’s newest high score on Ultimate Mecha Strike. Maybe in her mind she’d been pretending at first, but maybe there was also something genuine inside her, and she just didn’t know how to recognize it.

She let her hand drop back onto the pillow, leaving the earrings right where they belonged. Marinette really was a hero, and she’d saved Lila from herself.

When morning came, Lila pulled the blanket over her head to shield herself from the sunlight streaming in through the skylight. Marinette still slept peacefully beside her, and she felt her heart flutter in her chest. Never before in her life had Lila wanted something so badly as she did a fresh start with Marinette. A fresh start with herself. Maybe she wasn’t certain who she would be or where she would end up, but she hoped in her mind that she could be more like Marinette. Genuine, caring, honest. Someone worth loving and being friends with.

Confessing her wrongdoings was only the beginning, and she silently hoped that Marinette could forgive her. After all, she’d forgiven her once already and seemed to like her well-enough now. And for what it was worth, Lila had forgiven her too, and it was a weight lifted from her shoulders. She hadn’t realized how heavy a grudge could be until she finally stopped carrying one.

“Girls! Breakfast!” Mrs. Cheng called up the stairs, and Marinette shifted in her sleep, eyelids fluttering open a few moments later.

“Good morning,” She yawned, stretching her legs out.

“Morning,” Lila said groggily, rubbing her eyes.

“Did you sleep okay?” Marinette asked, sitting up. “I didn’t hog the bed, did I?”

“No, you were fine,” She insisted, shaking her head. “I hope that I didn’t steal the blanket too much.”

“Honestly if you did, I didn’t notice. Once I’m asleep I’m completely out.” She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Are you hungry? I’m sure Papa baked us something for breakfast.”

Lila detected the faint smell of bread, and her stomach growled embarrassingly loud. Marinette giggled as she clamped her hands over it, cheeks flushing. She seemed so relaxed, the polar opposite of the storm raging inside Lila’s mind. Would she be able to smile so care freely one day too?

“Good morning, girls,” Mrs. Cheng greeted as they climbed down the stairs.

“Morning, Mom.” Marinette pecked her cheek before taking a seat at the table, decorated with fresh fruit and bread.

Everything in their life was so warm and filled with love. As Marinette sliced pieces of bread, Mrs. Cheng poured them tea, and Lila felt a bit overwhelmed. She wasn’t used to dining with other people at breakfast as her parents just took their cups of coffee to go. Only on holidays would her whole family get together to share a meal.

“Did you two sleep okay?” Mrs. Cheng asked, taking a sip of her tea. “You didn’t stay up all night gossiping, did you?”

“No, we went to bed, and I fixed Papa’s apron for him,” Marinette said, slathering her slice with jam before taking a bite.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to get it back.” She perked up. “I’ll go run it down to him and let you girls finish eating.”

“Okay. It’s on my desk next to my sewing machine,” Marinette instructed as her mother disappeared up the stairs, and Lila waited until she returned all the way down to the bakery before flicking her gaze to Marinette.

“Alya and the girls are going to the pool today, do you want to come?” She asked, scrolling through her messages on her phone.

“S-Sure.” She nodded, rubbing her sweating palms on her fleecy pajamas.

“Awesome! I’ll let them know,” She said, keys clacking as she typed a quick response.

“Um, actually, can I tell you something first?” Lila started, swallowing back the lump in her throat.

“Sure,” Marinette said, sobering and turning to face her fully.

“I want to be honest with you, for once, because I see now how petty I’ve been, and I want to be better.” Marinette tilted her head a little in confusion but listened intently nonetheless. “I know your secret, Marinette. I have for a while…”

“M-My secret?” Her eyebrows raised in surprise as a nervous grin crept over her lips.

“I saw you in the library the day after I arrived at school. I know that you’re Ladybug.” Marinette’s eyes widened worriedly, and Lila averted her gaze with a shrug. “It’s fine. I’m not going to tell anybody, but I want you to know something about me that might ruin our friendship, but I’m tired of pretending. For once in my life, I want something real.”

She paused for a moment as Marinette’s jaw closed, and she nodded for Lila to continue.

“When I found out who you were, I was angry because I felt like you were befriending me to mock me, and I thought that everything you were doing was fake. So I pretended to be your friend hoping to get back at you for everything you did to me, and I hated your guts because no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t beat you.” She gripped her pajamas nervously, gaze locked on the table. “I even planned to steal your earrings from you so that you couldn’t be Ladybug anymore. That’s why I gave you those stupid fake ones for your birthday. I thought that you were like me, and that you had everyone wrapped around your finger because you made them revere you. But I was wrong.

“People like you because you care. They’re your friends because you’re always standing up for them and putting your neck out for them. You’ve never been fake to any of them, and when I realized that, I was ashamed. You have everything I’ve always wanted, and I’ve been really jealous of you all this time. And you’ve only ever been nice to me and been my friend, and I-I…” She ran a hand across her cheek, feeling something hot and wet touch her skin, lip quivering, but she continued. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want to be more like you. I want to be honest and have friends, and I want to be friends with you. For real this time, but I understand if you hate me.”

Marinette sat in stunned silence for a moment while Lila hiccupped and whimpered pathetically before she reached out to place her hand over Lila’s with a sympathetic smile.

“I don’t hate you,” She said gently, scooting closer. “In fact, I don’t blame you. The things Ladybug said to you- the things I said to you were harsh and uncalled for. The truth is, I was jealous of you and worried that you were going to steal Adrien away from me, and I got angry and lashed out at you.”

“You had every right to. I was using you to make myself look better because I never expected Ladybug to drop out of the sky and call me out like that.” She rubbed her nose and sniffled. “I hated you so much when I found out. I hated you more than anyone, but I couldn’t- you’re so genuine and honest, and I’ve never had that before. I want to hate you, but I can’t.”

She paused to take a breath. “I realized that I can’t hate you because I love you. I love you, and I want to be with you, but I know I don’t deserve you.”

“We’ve both done things we aren’t proud of, but I’m willing to put it behind us if you are.” Lila glanced up to meet her kind gaze, feeling her tears welling up again. “Honestly, I was expecting you to confess your feelings to me all this time, but I never expected that you knew my secret…I felt a little guilty too knowing what I did to you as Ladybug before I even knew you. Because once I got to know you, I couldn’t help but fall for you.”

“I don’t deserve someone like you,” She wailed, burying her face in Marinette’s chest. “You’re so nice and gentle and caring, and I’m so horrible and mean and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for lying to make myself look better. I’m sorry I pretended to be your friend. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“I don’t think you’re horrible.” Marinette shook her head, running her fingers through Lila’s hair. “You’ve done horrible things and been mean, but that doesn’t mean that has to be who you are. You can change all that and turn that girl you’ve been pretending to be into the real you.”

“I don’t know how,” She said, sitting up, and Marinette cupped her face, brushing a tear from her cheek.

“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got me,” She said with a laugh. “Because I love you too, Lila, and I’m willing to help you so long as you want to be better.”

“I do. I want to be someone who deserves your love,” She whimpered, and Marinette took her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I don’t know who I am without all of my lies, but I know that I want to be more open and honest with others and with myself.”

Marinette smiled brightly, and for the first time in a long time, Lila smiled too. Not out of want for something or to manipulate someone into getting her way, but out of happiness. Her chest was warm and overflowing with happiness and light, and tears streamed down her cheeks as Marinette held her close. There she was safe, and there she was loved, and she had a lot of work to do.

#miraculous ladybug #lilanette #lila rossi #marinette dupain-cheng #my writing #how to catch a ladybug #finale

31 notes · View notes

frikkinbangtan · 7 years

Text

things that fall | sneak peak

Pairing: JiminxReader

Genre: Crime AU; angst, fluff, action, drama, maybe smut

Rating: M for the series just to be safe, though there’s nothing too graphic in this bit

Warnings: Violence, strong language, (possible, future) sexual content

Word Count: 1500+

Summary: Things that fall -- Rain. Teardrops. Stars. Angels. Empires. Kings. People. You for him. You wonder, had you not met him that day, how differently would things have turned out? Could you have avoided this heartache? But to your surprise, you don’t find yourself wishing to go back to the beginning, to that crisp Monday morning in the studio -- even if it’s selfish, you don’t regret your choices because you were lucky enough to meet a boy with a smile like the sun. You were lucky enough to know a boy who saw you not as a monster, but as a girl who only wanted a second chance. You were lucky enough to be loved by Park Jimin, and that made all the hardship worthwhile.

A/N: alrighty, so i wrote this a couple of months ago, and it kinda just sat around bc it never showed up in the tag and i lost my motivation, tbh. but then!! bighit released all that love yourself content, stimulating my creative juices, so here we are again, my friends B) i hope you enjoy this little tidbit!!

“This isn’t going to work.“

You hate yourself for the words that pass your lips – not only because of the way your eyes burn the moment you speak them, but because they’re also the reason his smile drops, quickly replaced by parted lips and a furrowed brow and a confused gaze you can’t bring yourself to meet. You know if you look any farther than his chest, your resolve will falter, crumble into the shaky, broken mess it was to begin with. So you don’t look at his face, even as he opens his mouth. Even as he reaches for you, fingers gently encasing your own, you don’t dare to look up at him. Even as he grows steadily more apprehensive, more desperate, invading your space until mere centimeters remain between you, you don’t dare to look up at him. Even as he tilts your head up, you don’t dare to look up at him. You close your eyes instead.

"Why?” His voice is as soft as his touch, but there’s a defiance you had hoped to avoid. “Can you tell me why?“

“Why? It’s pretty obvious why."

"But I thought—"

Your heart leaps into your throat as you attempt to end this argument before it can really begin, a scowl marring your previously neutral features. "I wanted to believe it would work, but who were we kidding?” Your smile is bitter with crushed hopes, and you finally make the mistake of looking into his eyes.

Before Jimin, you didn’t think it was possible to feel warm from the way someone looks at you. Or to feel safe. It takes all you have to force the remainder of your explanation out, to say the words that will break your heart just as much as it will his.

"I can’t watch you get hurt,“ you breathe, blinking away the tears before they have a chance to fall. "So I’m saying goodbye now before either of us have the chance to do something stupid."

His lips curl into a smile tainted by regret. "It’s a little too late for that."

A rush of fear, cold and sinking, rushes through you. "What do you mean, ‘a little too late,’ Jimin? What did you do?” Your eyes dart to where Jimin’s hands have moved to press upon his abdomen, spotting crimson that spills over his fingers and stains his skin, and it’s as if someone has punched you in the gut because you can’t breathe. You can’t think. All that registers is that Jimin is bleeding.

Why is he bleeding? He was fine—

Jimin collapses to the floor, eyes fluttering, and you throw yourself down beside him without a second thought. You cradle him against your chest and press your hands where the blood is still gushing, but no amount of pressure is going to help. You quickly realize that when the bleeding doesn’t slow no matter how hard you press against Jimin’s wound. A choked sob slips past your lips before you can stop it, and you bow your head until it rests against Jimin’s shoulder, still pressing with all your might because he can’t die. The boy with a smile warmer than the sun can’t die. The boy with arms that feel like home can’t die. The boy who made you believe you weren’t a monster can’t die. The boy who found out the messy truth and still chose to stay can’t die. That boy who held you as if you were made of porcelain when he very well knew you were crafted out of jagged steel, can’t die. He just can’t.

Jimin’s hand upon your cheek elicits a quiet whimper from you despite your resolve to remain strong for him. Immediately you place your own bloodied hand over his, leaning into his touch as you try to slow your breathing and sniffling all the while. When you turn your head to meet his eyes, it brings on a new rush of tears to see his lips curved in a fond smile, warm and familiar and comforting. You wonder how the hell he can still make you feel like everything is going to be alright when you know everything is fucked.

"It’s okay.“

No, it’s not, you think, but you can’t get the choked response out. Jimin brushes his thumb across your cheekbone, further smearing his blood across your skin in the process, though neither of you care in the moment. His smile is watery now, voice thick with remorse and guilt as he speaks. "I love you.”

"Don’t,“ you sputter and squeeze his hand. "Please, don’t.” It’s all you can manage to say despite the words speeding through your mind. His lips part to respond, but his eyes flutter shut before he can, his hand going slack in your grip. You cry out in panic and try to jostle Jimin awake, desperate to hear his voice, to see his smile, to meet his eyes – to have the chance to tell him how much he means to you, how much you need him— but he doesn’t open his eyes.

You do open yours, though.

Your body jerks upright, chest heaving and cheeks damp as your mind races with memories of a nightmare that you almost believe to be true because its ending is what you’ve feared from the very beginning of your relationship with Jimin. But you feel his arms around you before your panic can grow, wrapped about your waist and tugging until your back rests against his chest, and all the tension melts from your body. He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder before resting his chin there and speaking barely above a whisper.

"Was it that night again?“

You shake your head and lean into him, reveling in his warmth for a few blissful moments before you finally respond. "No, it was something completely different this time."

Jimin hums but doesn’t say anything else. He knows if you want to talk about it, you will; you made that clear a long time ago.

"I lost you.” His chin leaves your shoulder as he turns his head to get a better look at your face, but you won’t look at him. “You died, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.” Even now, when you’re aware it was only a dream, your chest aches as though your heart is being crushed. Even now, you can picture the scene as though it were happening right in front of you. Jimin’s reassuring smile, his hand upon your cheek, the blood pooling beneath your fingers – you’ve always been a vivid dreamer, and it isn’t the first time you curse your imagination.

Jimin’s thumb brushes just beneath your left eye, and it’s then that you notice the tears blurring your vision. You breathe in sharply, squeezing your eyes shut as if to shut out the memory of your nightmare and praying that Jimin’s eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark just yet. You don’t want him to see the way your brow is furrowed or how tightly you have your lips pressed together, nor your hands which have balled themselves into tight fists. But you feel his palm against your skin coaxing your head to turn, and you know you can’t hide how terrified you are at the mere thought of losing him.

His lips press softly against your forehead.

"I don’t know what I’d do if—” You cut yourself off, holding your breath in an attempt to keep your composure, and Jimin takes the opportunity to shush you, wiping away the tears trailing down your cheeks.

“It was only a dream, Y/N,” he whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But what if—”

“It’s not a possibility.” His tone remains gentle, but he’s firm in denying whatever worst case scenario you’ve imagined. And in his mind, those words are the absolute truth – there’s no way in hell he’s going to die and leave you all alone. You believe him, even if just for the moment, and you lean into Jimin, resting your forehead against his own. You sniffle a few more times as Jimin begins to hum a song you know you’ve heard but can’t seem to place and slowly open your eyes to see that he’s closed his eyes. While studying his features, so impossibly perfect, your eyes begin to droop; you know you won’t last much longer between the warmth radiating from Jimin, his arms nestled around you, and his humming, so you say what you’ve been meaning to say for quite some time before sleep can claim you.

“I love you.”

His eyes flutter open to meet your lethargic gaze. Your voice came out as a mutter, but he heard you all the same, and the smile that you receive in reply sends your stomach into somersaults and colors your cheeks crimson. Jimin presses his lips to yours softly, laying the both of you down and placing a few more kisses to your face – to which you whine at but thoroughly enjoy. You hear his laugh ring in the silence of his room and attempt to smack him, but Jimin easily catches your wrist and places one last kiss to your palm before laying it against his chest, beaming at you. Just before you drift off, you hear him whisper back to you, voice giddy despite the remnants of sleep.

“I love you, too.”

#cmbnetwork #bts scenarios #jimin scenario #jimin imagine #bangtan scenarios #bangtan imagines #bts imagines #hello hello!! this is damnitchimchim posting on a sideblog!!#i'm going to attempt a writing blog bc i just can't resist anymore : )#i've linked the network on this blog too so no worries there!#i probably stayed awake into the wee hours of the morning to finish this | my writing

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thenewtdimension · 7 years

Text

It all points to you - pt.1

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader Prompt: Soulmate AU requested by anon. One shot(x) or Chapter (x) pt.1/2 || (next part) Word count: 2.3k Warnings: none Genre: Fluff? Maybe a Tiny Speck of angst? A/N: I’m tremendously sorry for all the tardiness!! University has started so it’s all gotten pretty hectic.. to make it to to you, I’ve decided this is gonna be a two chapter fic! The next chapter will be probably uploaded next week tho, as I have yet to finish it. Also, this isn’t some of my best work.. it really isn’t...so please bear with me. Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors!

The world seemed to work in odd, surprising ways. For every person existed another, tied together by an inconspicuous red string of fate. Those, no one could see, though they had no reason to. On each person's wrist lay imprinted a compass, working restlessly all hour of every day of every year, hoping for the bearers' attention to glance their way just at the right moment, just at the right second the string's ends could intertwine.

At least half of the population was a result of this, of having been aware at the time their half crossed their path. They were, mostly, the married and the bearers of children.

Some say it destiny proven to be true. Yet in the back of most people's minds flashed a thought very possible. That is, while they say that, one way or another, pairs will have more than one chance to meet, there are those who never stop wondering.

The world didn't play on destiny, it played on chance. And being a horrible gambler yourself, you decided to ignore all thoughts of attempting to find the person at the end of your shared string. If you were to meet, so be it. You believed it was better not to force it.

If voiced aloud, some would call you mad - you see, no one wanted to end up alone. No one. So everyone, or almost everyone, tried their very hardest - obsessed, actually, over the burden the compass ensued.

Eventually, you came to hide such a thing. You became negligent to the idea, completely absorbed in your own little world instead. Being a witch left little time for those types of worries to cross your mind, either way.

You had developed a love for Herbology and healing since childhood. After graduating Hogwarts you were thankful to have gotten a permit to open up a small herb shop - while also being able to operate as an emergency healer if needed. As of late, however, you had planned to close the store for the time being and restock on some fresh herbs and fungi.

It was a routine you had created thus far. Each month the shop would be closed for a few days and you'd go around either Britain or a wider range of European land in search for this fungi or that plant.

Dusting your apron, already used to the various shades of green and red and other variety of colors splattered on it, you went to help the last costumer of the day.

"Dearie, you will be back by Monday won't you?" A feeble old lady, Mrs. Hobbs, asked. She was a regular, often coming to you instead of St. Mungo's (something about long procedures and lack of patience) for a checkup and some remedies. She was sweet, and you were grateful for the conformity she brought to your life.

You smiled, "Yes, Mrs. Hobbs. Monday at 8 o'clock, as per usual."

Returning your cheeky expression and holding on to her cane, you escorted her as she made her way out.

"I will see you then, dear. Oh, remember to let your compass breath before something bad happens, understood?"

Midway, her words began fading with distance, but you waved and chuckled before the words sunk in. Right. The compass. She must have noticed you had it concealed.

Closing the door with a click, activating the shudders and putting up both a lock and a protection charm, you took off your apron before giving your second home a last look and apparating in your apartment. You had tuned your actions to 'automatic,' truly lacking a desire to think about such things, about soulmates and the myths around them.

But after being days without seeing it, you couldn't help but take off the think piece of silk that covered it. And you stared. On your wrist it glared, arrow still moving lethargically erratic and without rest. It was always like that. Not just for yourself, but for the people that hadn't found their halves as well.

Sighing, you covered it again.

It wasn't that you were against soulmates or finding 'the other half,' you were just too tired to make it your whole life's purpose or sole ambition. So you hid that 'part of life' away and continued onward. At that age, however, people had begun to ask questions. Why weren't you trying to find that person? You could just ignore it, why hide it? You were constantly told to not mess with destiny and whatever it had in store for you. To not hide it for it was central to one's being. Which is why you understood why Mrs. Hobbs said what she did.

After having it hidden for so long, your nights and dreams had become dreadful and dark in a literal sense. Lately it even seeped into your days, a sense of gray overshadowing the passing hours. You suspected it had to do with lack of interest and chase in the matter, but you hadn't put such theories to the test. Not even at night did the silk band come off.

Of course, you weren't going to put it to the test now, for you didn't want to stare at it. Instead, you went and packed some important instruments in your favorite comfy leather bag.

Then, in a manner of seconds, you were far from home again.

The forests of Scotland were amongst your favorites. The different shades of greens soothed your eyes, the barks offering solace and ground when their branches took you too far, be it by imagination or distance. Even when they got thick and the fog reached your knees, you wanted to explore and often kept going. Every new discovery was appreciated and fawned over, from every new herb found to the creatures that scattered about and sometimes hid from your presence.

You apparated into one of the forest's clearings, and carefully got to work. Your feet swiftly took you towards the well-known trees and bushes, while your eyes scanned around for the fungi spots already imprinted in your memory.

It didn't take long to get to your favorite tree. It stood right before a clearing's pathways and the beauty it displayed could leave anyone breathless. The evergreen leaves and the hanging moss swayed in the wind, while its white flowers peppered the air.

You neared the tree, hoping to take its beauty in for a second longer before leaving to find some aconite. But as you went to pick one of the flowers mid-flight, a strong gust of wind suddenly shook the branches, the moss almost entangling your body as it trembled and shivered.

As another wave of wind hit you, your arms instinctively went to shield your face as you heard the whistling sound pass by and… was that someone… talking?

Intrigued as to who would be so deep inside a place people seldom ventured, you lowered your arms and went in the direction of the sound.

That was, until warm hands cradled your head, your face pressed against some man's chest. He wore a vest, soft and mustard colored, and you thought it a bit odd before realization settled in. And your body quickly began to protest, but pushed with little force because of your evident confusion.

"Excuse me! Who-"

But the man held you tighter, although with hesitation, and brought you through apparation behind your favorite tree. Just a few seconds after, the wind picked up. It still managed to shake you slightly.

"Shhh," he whispered, somehow stupefying you enough to drown out your protests. Then, the sound of nasty snapping - of trunks splitting in half - and branches crunching as if under feet soon erupted all around you.

Once your eyes were unshielded, and the man gently pushed you away, both the breeze and sounds had practically stopped. But before you could try and talk to him and demand answers, he apparated back where he held you before. You moved around the tree, hurriedly following him. How dare he- Who- what?

"Who do you think you are-" you began but quickly stopped. Your eyes had gone from hard to soft after locking with his own and understanding what was happening. Because you see, right behind the man, and a few feet from you, stood a dragon.

It was a Hebridean Black, with sleek black scales glistening in the dying sunlight. The sheer size of it, cramped in a rough patch of forest and broken trees trunk and branches, and its overpowering aura left you breathless. Now you knew where the cacophony of sounds had come from. The dragon has just landed.

Letting out a surprised yelp, your hands quickly covered your mouth, as the dragon's amethyst orbs pierced your own - and so did the stranger's blue-green ones.

"I'm actually - ah…. W-would you mind bowing a little? He was a bit hard to calm down, you see," the man asked, and almost instantly your body did as he asked. Clearly, you did not know proper dragon etiquette. Besides, considering the situation, you were almost sure he was not there to hurt you - you were more like a casualty.

And that voice… the hushed, amused yet respectful tone… the longer you heard it, the melodic it turned, and your cheeks colored beet red. You had never, ever in your life heard such a beautiful voice. Of course you wanted to comply, at least this once. The thought was slightly concerning, and you decided to lock it away for the moment.

"Thank you… Arthur is rather prideful, he is," he said, voice piercing you despite the low tone. As an afterthought, could have sworn you heard a quiet "not dangerous."

You straightened just in time to see him move swiftly, but with grace, towards the creature before them. He raised his hand, and you resisted the urge to yell that it might not be the best idea. Yet without any problems at all, the dragon nuzzled his head under a man's hand.

It was an odd sight. They were said to be aggressive so you never neared them. But there he was, a curled haired man, cuddling a dragon.

Weren't they supposed to be looked after by a Scottish clan?

"Isn't he supposed to be in an open space?"

The man's curls bopped slightly as he nodded, freckled hand caressing the creature before him. It… started to look more like a dog, truly.

"Yes, but Arthur seemed to have escaped," he murmured, appreciating how you didn't run away screaming at him for being a 'lunatic' or other dreadful names, "When I heard, I- I couldn't stop myself from helping. He's not dangerous, you know…" And he wasn't sure why, but he couldn’t help but reveal his actions to you, either. He figured you deserved it, after being intruded on what he figured was a once peaceful walk. Yet you stayed, and you didn't yell… on the contrary, you had turned curious.

"I see…" you began, "Is it… alright? Are - are you alright?"

Blinking at both questions, he looked at you as if you had gone completely mental. A woman. Asking about the well-being of a dragon - on that day and age. Not only that, but asking the strange man with it if he was alright after he had held her without consent, without asking - even if it was for your protection.

A burning sensation gathered at his cheeks, and he wondered why the question tugged at his heart and warmed his chest, "y-yes... We're both fine, miss…?"

"Oh," you jumped a bit, surprised at your own rudeness and ears heating in embarrassment, "I am (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N)."

You had begun to move about, picking up a few mushrooms that the wind managed to get out of your bag. It was a distraction, for you knew your feet would lead you closer to them if they had a will on their own. And oh did they lead you closer.

"I've already met.. Arthur, was it?" you asked, gesturing towards the dragon. The man nodded. "But.. What's yours?"

Now only separated by a few feet, you could see him properly. He was very tall and lanky, and you appreciated how it suited him so. The curls atop his head stuck out in every direction - he must have been hit by the wind earlier as well. And his skin, adorned with freckles and light visible scars, was as captivating as his eyes.

His eyes wondered to the ground as he caught your stare, "I'm Newt Scamander," he said and quickly offered his free hand.

You shook it lightly, frowning at the electric current that passed between the touching skins.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Scamander," you said and he scrunched his nose a little.

"Please, just Newt is fine," he murmured, a smile twitching slightly and a hand going for his pocket watch before pocketing it once more.

"It's time to continue now, Arthur. The Macfustys are waiting," he nudged the creature a little, carefully. The dragon let out a grunt like sound that seemed rather whiny, and the man turned back to you.

"Thank you... For your concern," he smiled "and I am deeply sorry for startling you earlier - couldn't have you knocked off your feet now,"

He took a step closer to the dragon before continuing, "Also, seeing as it'll be windy again.. You might want to apparate a few meters out of this area,"

You nodded before moving back, "Yes… and thank you, for shielding me."

The last thing you saw of him was his ghost of a smile, as both of you apparated before Arthur could take flight again. You had left without some of the ingredients.

Once back at your apartment, you let out a shaky breath. The day had been too weird, and you were too tired to do anything but relax.

You were only halfway through the kitchen, with your tea already being prepared in the air, when you noticed your wrist. Its protective silk was gone. And your compass, which once moved incessantly, stood absolutely still.

#Newt Scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt x reader #fantastic beasts and where to find them #newt scamander imagine #fbawtft imagine #fbawtft fic #soulmate au

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m14015jamesscurr · 7 years

Text

‘Graphic violence’, script Page’s 1-6

Graphic Violence

Int, Track;

20:00 Pm, the sun just setting on the horizon, Patrick wearing a grey hoodie, black shorts and reebok trainers with short white socks. He races round and round the track breathing furiously with sweat pouring down his face.

Close up on Patrick’s right cheek as we hear Patrick’s alter-personality speaking in monologue in the first person.

Patrick (Alter-ego): The sweat rolls in bolts off my cheek. My bones rattle in their joints. My feet pound the ground like a stallion. Training is harsh, the hours are hellish, I was once amateurish, indeed so is everyone before they can accomplish.

Ext, Changing block;

Int, Track

Out comes a black sports teacher Jo Carmoth wearing a leotard and an open black jacket, tights and platform shoes and a whistle with a red string around her neck.

She turns her head noticing Patrick and shouts out to Patrick with a hand to the side of her cheek.

Jo: Pat? ...Pat!

Patrick stops and turns his head rapidly spotting Jo and running across the track to speak to her not noticing the revealing leotard to Patrick’s imagination. Patrick then left immediately confused and blushing almost not knowing what to say

Patrick: Oh! S-sorry about that miss, that I was just um, thinking.

Jo looks a little puzzled but pleased to see a sports student out so late training at the prospect that it was Patrick Tyson.

Jo: You may want to concentrate more, it’s not often we have people here this late!

Patrick regains his composure after wiping the sweat from his face with his sleeve.

Patrick: I was just getting involved in it that’s all.

Jo: How long you been here?

Patrick inhales deeply,

Patrick: About 2 hours.

Jo looks somewhat perplexed and a little unconvinced.

Jo: 2 hours?! You seriously been here since 6?!

Patrick now completely calm and collective speaks clearly.

Patrick: I know it’s crazy, why you out so late miss?

Jo: We, well I should say, I was trying to teach the cheer squad for the derby game in a month’s time.

Patrick raises an eyebrow at the realisation of the football derby between Birmingham and Wolverhampton which promises to be violent after last year’s incident.

Patrick: Oh yea, how they doin?

Jo: Honestly, just average, 4 weeks to go we need about 4 leap years!

Patrick’s eyes suddenly becomes distracted as he suddenly notices Jo’s swollen cleavage through her leotard. His eyes swell in size, blushing madly he thinks of something to say quickly.

Patrick: Well, that um.. is just g-great.

Jo looks slightly puzzled about why Patrick looks redder than ever.

Jo: Pat? We’re not on school hours, just call me Jo.

Patrick speaks quickly.

Patrick: Oh! No no it’s just got nothing to do with, d… d… got much on tonight?

Patrick feels and looks like an idiot for saying that.

Jo: Um, I think just rest… shouldn’t you be resting? It’s the weekend and ya know what Birmingham is like at night.

Patrick Cooling down, his face turning a slighter shade of pink.

Patrick: Sure thing, I’ll see you, Monday at morning.

Patrick takes to his heels and runs towards the main road at the other end of the track.

Jo watches him dart away with her left hand on her hip and smiling in amazement.

Jo: Try and concentrate on what you’re saying for Monday!

She chuckles to herself.

Ext. Track

Int. Bus

Patrick sits at the back of the bus on the left hand side looking out of the window with his hoodie zipped up. He looks dazed and tired just trying to keep his eyes open.

Patrick (Alter-ego): What the fuck were you saying?! And why the hell does she have a massive rack?! Ok, look it’s perfectly normal just look out the window, we’re nearly at Wolverhampton now. Did it always look so gloomy? I mean we’re halfway into April! What’s the deal?

The bus stops and Patrick spots a large group of chavs. 17 in total some wearing black and blue tracksuits, some wearing red and grey, some wearing pink all over. Some thin/skinny some with many or no teeth and some carrying bags/beer and fags between them. All the clothes looked like they came from Sports direct and they were at least 2 or 10 years old. The age group of these chavs, varied from 16 to 47 years old, but the older ones looked to be 20 or so years older by the wrinkles and lack of teeth and filthy hair. There were 6 kids as well who looked underfed/overfed and were screaming at the tops of their voices.

Patrick shrugs and braces himself into his seat.

Patrick (Alter-ego): Ok now don’t panic, they won’t dare come near me. I may be average but, no I’m far from that, I know that better than anyone! Ok, now don’t panic just relax and look out the window instead.

All of the chav’s climb on the bus and immediately the kids run toward the back with the older chavs singing drunk and looking like complete idiots all the way.

Patrick (Monologue): What a degrading spectacle that is, if they had a mirror, they’d rather break into the nearest Asda than look into it, let alone crack the thing. And there are kids with them! They already look like they’ve been dragged through the hedge and nobody gives a shit!

Several of the chav’s look up and move further down the bus to where Patrick is sitting.

Chav #1: Oi you little shit’s sit the fuck down!

Chav #2: Oi mate can we lot sit there?

Patrick doesn’t turn to look at this 40 or 60 something lady with black and red ever last tracksuit.

Chav #3: Oi mate fuckin’ answer er’ rite?

Patrick clutched his fist, stood up and gave Chav #3 an uppercut knocking out 2 teeth. (This doesn’t happen in reality but in Patrick’s imagination he wished he had) he refused to move an inch from his seat.

Chav #4: Yea mate, f-off.

Patrick gets dragged up by one of the chavs, and Patrick flails his arms around tries to get free from the Chav, but a second chav grabs Patrick by his wrists whilst a third punches him in the chest and 3 kids land some kicks on his legs.

The ‘STOP’ bell rings and Patrick gets dragged down to the door and is thrown onto the pavement.

Feeling bruised and with the air almost kicked out of him, unable to get back up quickly enough he bus drives away with the chav’s flipping the bird at Patrick.

Patrick (Alter-ego): Why didn’t you fucking say anything?! Is that how you let outsiders are gona treat ya for the rest of your life?

Patrick (Monologue): Well there are always was that idea we’ve had since I was 10.

Patrick (Alter-ego): Yea, what an absolutely brilliant idea, running like Bale literally like an idiot.

Patrick getting up from the pavement and walking down the street to get to his house.

Patrick (Monologue): You taking the mickey?

Patrick (Alter-ego): Yea no shit, you know why we can’t do that, it’s completely barbaric. You only think it may impress the lovely Jo!

Patrick (A,E) sounding smug with that, ‘Jo’ remark.

Patrick (Monologue): Shut up with that, she’s like twice my age.

Patrick (Alter-ego): And like twice your league, doesn’t it make logical sense to be someone else? There’s not much else going for ya’ to be fair.

Patrick (Monologue): Maybe there was more to the idea when I was 10. It was about standing up against those that were hollow and have no purpose in living in either Birmingham or Wolverhampton.

Patrick (Alter-ego): Oh, so its Birmingham now is it? What’s so great about that?

Patrick (Monologue): Well what should be wrong about any city? Nobody regardless where you live is intentionally an arsehole.

Patrick (Alter-ego): When you tried that you got your nose broke when you fell 7 feet off a wall. You could have killed yourself.

Patrick (Monologue): I swore that would never happen again.

Patrick (Alter-ego): You better.

Int. Home

Patrick opens the door.

Patrick: I’m home!

His dad stumbles into the hallway swaying from side to side with a can of Guinness in his right hand. Wearing a dirty blue tank top and old shorts. His stomach was the size of a fully grown pumpkin. , (slightly exaggerated).

Dad: Bleh, what time ya, cal this?

He sways back and forth in a drunken stupor.

Patrick: I’m up here, just to the left there.

Dad: Shut ya fooking (burp) mooh…

Patrick: I’ll just go straight to bed then.

Patrick troops off to bed, ignoring Dad all the way.

Int. Patrick’s room

Patrick (Alter-ego): See, the only 1 who’s supposed to be your dad, the hopeless, overweight, welfare, drunk who can’t look you in the face.

Patrick (Monologue): Yea well at least I go to my mother’s tomorrow.

Patrick (Alter-ego): Perhaps, at least you can get some proper sleep tonight.

Patrick stands still for a while starring at the floor not moving contemplating a serious decision.

Patrick (Monologue): No.

Patrick (Alter-ego): No? What do you mean no?

Patrick (Monologue): I’m going for a run.

Patrick (Alter-ego): What?!

Patrick reaches for a pair of tracksuit pants suitable for colder weather, they were plain black with no logos on. These had been previously been removed.

Patrick (Monologue): A run, to the track at Greenwood academy.

Patrick (Alter-ego): are you… why would you do that?!

Patrick (Monologue): Why not? Better than being stuck here.

Patrick (Alter-ego): what about the blob?

Patrick (Monologue): Nah, he won’t come in and I need to get in shape.

Patrick (Alter-ego): If this is about Jo, forget it! It’s not going to happen.

Patrick (Monologue): It’s for something else. And to show you I’ll get out via the window.

Patrick (Alter-ego): You’re not even going to listen are you?

Patrick (Monologue): What gave that away, the last 3 times I did this in succession?

Patrick opens the window wide, starring out of the 5 story estate building and jumps out by swaying his feet to the left over the window and then propelling himself from the brick wall. Landing like a frog with perfect stillness.

Ext. Home

Patrick (Alter-ego): Impressive.

He says with a slight inkling of being impressed.

Patrick (Monologue): That’s it?

0 notes

mille-at-home · 7 years

Text

School days & A&E.

On my way back from work on Friday I had a lovely phone call from Cory’s head of year to say he had been issued ‘a card’ for exceptional effort and above and beyond grade for his maths. ‘Please give him support and praise at home’ goes without saying that we were very proud and did just that, Cory was even happier when I hinted that maybe that game he was after could be on the way if he keeps it up. (He doesn’t ask for much) Anyway, on Monday I had a few missed calls and texts from a distressed and rather upset Cory to say he was on report - for effort? It turns out he was just called to the Hub and put on report as his effort levels were below average. This goes on effort AND attendance, his orthodontics and physiotherapy sessions have required a morning or afternoon out of school which counts as a whole day?! I try my best to get them out of school hours but he doesn’t like Erin to be at these sessions with him because….well I’m not sure why, just sibling privacy I guess?! So it is not the easiest task in the world for me to arrange for the most part, I take what I am given.

Cory was completely demotivated and pretty angry that he has been moved down on the display board in the school hall, to the bottom 28 in his year for effort and although I rang to find out what was going on, I had no return call so Richie got on the case. It transpires that the same teacher who gave him praise on Friday did some sums over the weekend (possibly after a bottle of wine) and although Cory is predicted A - A* in his core subjects there are some subjects like cultural beliefs (don’t get me started) and PE that he is cruising at a B and could do better?! I kid you not?! We are all for giving a kick up the bum but heck, what an arse about face way of doing it and to top it all after telling Richie ‘what an intelligent boy’ he is, they didn’t actually think to talk and explain to Cory why he was on report?! So I have had a very moody, upset and downright low teen in the house for two days which only lifted last night after I fed it lots of food and made pancakes with chocolate spread on top! Hats off to Richie though, I can’t moan I have been dealing with this - Dad is on the case! (Insert smiley emoji) Meanwhile I may write and ask the school if they could have a polite word with the NHS about booking all appointments out of school hours - just for their bloody 'attendance records’ I reckon that should work eh?!

It’s a good job I don’t really have a real job because this struggle is real guys, it really is. Whilst I was trying to sort this mess and Cory’s tears out yesterday I also had to get Erin and x3 other girls to a very important football match after school. The girls team are getting pretty strong and although Erin hates being in goal, she is damn good at it. She was supposed to be striker this week but the goalie went sick, Erin steps in; albeit a little disappointed she saved a great shot which resulted in a tinge of pain last night and more this morning. Mum being the bad mum that she is, ponders the theatre schools great teaching at times as I genuinely can’t tell real from drama. I decide drama as I have much to do and put a support bandage on to make her feel fussed and send her to school as usual after having a word with the class teacher we agree strategy of fuss and it will pass. 11.45am I am mid stair well gloss paint, when I get a call to take some pain relief in. I whip up to school armed with calpol (magic stuff) and a medicine spoon in my painting clothes and still feel a little like a good mum, a little guilty that I didn’t bring her home when I see the little tears starting but….I continue and finish said hall of gloss paint, change and boil the kettle for a coffee before pick up and karate. 2.15pm the school phone to say she seems in a lot of pain and maybe it needs further checks. 2.30pm and we are signed in to A&E. (Sorry, but it’s the only way to check for broken bones) Dare I say that is was very quiet? Probably four of us in the main waiting area and we were seen by triage, X-ray, back to minor injuries in 2 hours! The staff are all wonderful but Erin almost goes into meltdown when asked 'who do you live at home with?’ She looks at me with bottom lip quivering “Does Dad?” I just nod & nurse distracts her with a bone chart. I suspect nurse probably wanted to know more really! Lol All in all though it was pretty good going. If everybody is listening to the 'don’t go to A&E’ bit then I reckon the staffing and department could be halved in no time if today was anything to go by! No obvious break to wrist but it’s not clear so she has a splint and has to return next Friday. (Arghhhh another attendance black cross!) No sports for a month?!!! Erin is not happy!

I get home in time to say 'Hi’ to other child who is much happier with his '1’ scores (highest score) in every subject and teacher so far on report and that most teachers are asking why he is even on report - this has boosted his confidence. Phew…There is no way on this earth I can get to karate as its a half hour window to cook, eat and change - it’s not happening. I put the oven on for the Wednesday pizza, (it’s quick on training days and relieves my stress levels for the timing). I wanted too, but didn’t phone Richie earlier; you know for that sort of advice that I know I don’t really need but wanted the back up anyway - to check maybe that I was doing the right thing?! I knew he was away from his base at another base miles away, at one of those important 'leave the phone at the door’ sort of meetings but texted as soon as we were home. Of course he calls straight away, just whilst I have discovered that the dog who ate half a dinner yesterday and was obviously slow and poorly had in fact puked over the sofa! (I will not tell him off - he’s poorly) I leave Erin to tell him what happened whilst I clean up and put the pizza in.

We finally sit down to eat and whilst the children tuck into a rather lovely looking pizza and cheese stuffed crust thing I am attempting an omelette stuffed with mushrooms! Only in my haste to not let the pizza burn, my omelette is now cleverly disguised as scrambled egg and I forgot to put the mushrooms in! It’s also way too early for wine and I can’t do the 'syn’ the night before weigh in. Tonight I’m thinking chunky and funky is the way forward but…I will not be beaten!

Richie phones again later, presumably for a decent conversation with me but Cory picks up the phone first, doing some pretty amazing foreign accent 'Hello, Hello, this is Reylon from Windows Microsoft. Sir, can I tell you have a virus on your computer and I want all of your bank details so that I can scam for blah blah blah…..“ Erin and I honestly can’t breathe for laughing! He’s happy and blip over! Phew. Did Richie get a conversation with us tonight? Bah! I don’t think so!!

Happy Wednesday all…Mille xx

#armylife #armywife #nhs #schools #attendance

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