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gaybananabread · 5 months

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hellooo! for the fruit shop could you do pear + grapes with lee!miles and ler!hobie from ATSV? the idea I had in mind was that Miles would be stressed about being spiderman, and hobie would comfort him in his own special way (which would then include tickling Miles to pieces ofc) tysm!!

Fruit(s): Pears, Grapes

These two are incredibly fun to write for I swear- Miles would absolutely be one to way stress out over life, and I can see Hobie affectionately being a dork about it. Love how your brain works, Anon! As always, thank you for the request, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Miles

Ler: Hobie

Summary: Miles is falling behind due to his duties as Spider-Man and majorly stressing out about it. Hobie helps him calm down, as well as adding a special twist to make sure he's all cheered up.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

Miles ran through the halls of Visions High School, racing to get to class…well, less late than he would've if he wasn't running. A few papers fell out of his binder, but he didn't stop. They weren't important anyway…probably. Extra copies exist for a reason.

He had run into two villains that morning; some weird bird guy and a rhino. The fight trashed his suit, ripping it in places and leaving him bruised up. Lucky for him, a good foundation can solve any problem.

When he finally burst into the classroom, his history teacher looked less than impressed. She pointed to his seat before continuing her lecture, silently letting him know to stay after class. Wonderful.

Time seemed to crawl as he half-listened to the lecture, knee bouncing furiously beneath the desk. The bell finally rang, somehow sending both a pang of relief and dread into his chest. It had just been that kind of week. She approached his desk, sighing and leaning on it.

“Look, Miles… I know you’re a good kid. You pay attention, don’t talk unless it’s appropriate, and write me apologies when you’re late or forget an assignment. What I can’t understand is what’s distracting you so badly that you’re late every day and write the same date on your papers for a week.” Her voice wasn’t judgemental; she just sounded tired and wanted to know what was happening. He could relate to that.

“I…I just got a full plate.” It was a lame explanation, but it was the best he had. She frowned, though it was a look of mild frustration rather than disappointment or anger. “Maybe you should try to clear it a bit. At this rate, that plate’s going to get so heavy that you won’t be able to carry it anymore. I don’t want to see your plate shatter, Miles. Think about it.”

That wasn’t so bad. He felt horrible for lying, but that icky ache was growing more dull with each fib. “But. You have been late to my class four times now. You know the rules.” His heart sank; four tardies meant a write-up and a call home. Not so bad to most, though he had no good way to explain himself.

“I know there’s more to this, so I’ll be nice. You’ve got a choice. Either take the normal reprimand or write me a one thousand word report on the development of political institutions throughout American history.” Damn it…

Miles frowned down at his ever-growing to-do list, tallying up his work for the weekend. He chose the essay for his history teacher; he couldn’t get another reprimand. His body ached from the fight, his mind dragging as he tried to focus on the political article. The word “exhausted” felt like a gross understatement.

The teen was so out of it that he didn’t notice things floating around the dorm, nor did he see the lanky Brit that came out of the portal. He did, however, feel the arms that wrapped around him and lifted him into the air. “Ey, short man! What’cha mopin’ for?” The small shriek he let out shocked both of them. Hobie set the boy back down, frowning slightly. “Damn, you al’ight? You’re jumpy as hell.”

That look…he decided he hated it. The worried, slightly pitiful look made him feel crummier than he already did. But…he could actually tell Hobie what was bothering him. Hobie was like him; a part of their crazy, high-pressure world. Miles actually had someone to confide in. “Nah, not really…”

Hobie bit his lip, sighing at the simple admission. His friend looked…tired. Tired and sad. He’d have to fix that.

The punk brought Miles to his bed, laying him down and sitting beside him. Whenever his friends are upset, Hobie has a special way of cheering them up. Miles’s cheer-ups include a special step, one he never sees coming; it’s always clear he enjoys it though.

Hobie wrapped an arm around his friend, pulling him into a tight and comforting hug. “Hey, c’mon Miles. You can tell me anythin’, bruv.” Miles sighed, leaning into the hug. Finally, someone he can talk to…

“Uh…it’s just been a lot. With Spider-Man stuff, school’s been impossible, and my teachers are gettin’ closer and closer to callin’ my parents. I dunno how I’m gonna explain it if they do…” His voice trailed off at the end as he buried his face in Hobie’s shoulder.

The taller man rubbed Miles’s arm, trying to help him feel better. There wasn’t much that could be done for his situation unless he told his parents; that was only happening when he was ready. “”M sorry, Miles; that’s just rotten. If ya want, I could ‘elp with some’a those assignments. Was pre’y decent in school, long as it ain’t Maths.”

His eyes lit up at the offer; he had to bite his tongue before he sounded too desperate. “Y-yeah, that’d be awesome! Only if it’s easy for you, though; I-I don’t wanna cause problems.” Hobie huffed, deciding it was time for the special portion of his cheer up session.

A squeeze on Miles’s side cut off his half-apologies, his words ending in a squeal. “H-Hohobie? What’re you- nYAHAhahaha!” Miles shoved at the other spider’s hand as it poked and prodded at his side. Seriously, that?! He didn’t mind it, but still…

“Isn’t it obvious? ‘M cheerin’ you up, lil’ man.” Hobie smirked, moving to spider his fingers on Miles’s stomach. He squeaked, his giggles occasionally jumping up to choked laughter. “I-Ihihi dohon’t neheed chehehEERIHING UHUHUP!”

The teen squirmed and thrashed, trying to get away from his friend’s tickly touch. He was trapped; Hobie’s strong, firm grip on his shoulders was inescapable, his evil fingers going to town on Miles’s poor belly. “Course ya do, yer all mopey. Those giggles suit ya much better than a frown.”

Hobie’s wiggling fingers went exploring, landing on the younger spider’s ribcage. His arms slammed to his sides, trying to stop that hand from going any higher. “HOHOHObiehehe! Ihi’m hahappy! Y-youhu can quihIHIHIT!”

The fact that he didn’t outright say to stop only made the punk want to go on forever. It was clear he wanted a bit more; that blocked spot was quite enticing… The arm around Miles’s shoulders moving out front, gathering up his hands and holding his arms above his head. Hobie smirked, the lopsided look sending a flurry of butterflies to Miles’s stomach. “Brace ya’self, giggles~”

Not wanting to wait any longer, Hobie dug into his hollows, mining for all the laughter he could find. And laughter he got. “HOHOHOBIEHE! NAHAT THEHERE! NAHAHAHO!” Miles bucked and thrashed, almost knocking them both off his bed. Hobie got ahead of the mess, pushing him down onto the mattress so neither of them could get hurt.

Loud, boisterous, almost childish laughter rang out in the dorm, almost definitely going through the walls to his “neighbors.” He wasn’t exactly hating what was happening, but it was problematic. It was hardly the worst noise that had ever come through dorm walls, though he was sure someone would call in a noise complaint. That thought made his cheeks burn with embarrassment. “SOHOHOMEONE’S GOHOHONNA CAHALL SEHEHECURITYHYHY!”

Hobie rolled his eyes, hating the logic; it was true, but he didn’t have to like it. He wasn’t ready to quit just yet. Instead of stopping completely, he moved his fluttering fingers to Miles’s neck. The boy’s raucous laughter calmed to sweet giggles, his struggling almost ending.

Anyone who personally knew Miles could tell how adorably sensitive his neck was. Even the soft, gentle tickling had him giggling like a little kid. That person could also tell that he absolutely adored any attention on that certain spot; he practically melted.

Normally, he would’ve let Hobie continue with the gentle tickling. He had a lot of work, however, and was getting more and more tired with every giggle. Miles weakly tugged at his arms, whining through the sweet sound. “C-cohohome ohon! Plehehease?”

Hobie chuckled, seeing how tired the other spider was getting. “Bah, fine. Lucky I‘m feelin’ nice today, giggles.” He dragged a claw from Miles’s pit to his belly before stopping, giving his entire midsection a parting gift before he let go. Miles shrieked, curling up into a ball the moment he was released.

The punk rubbed his back, chuckling softly. Miles flinched at first, thinking Hobie was going back for another tease. “Ey, I’m done, I’m done! Calm it down, Miles.” A small huff left his full lips as he looked over his giggly friend. “You al’ight, lil’ man? Didn’t go too far, did I?”

Miles shook his head, relaxing at the calming touch. “N-noho, you’re goohohod. Just…just tihickled.” That got a laugh out of the other hero; guess some things never change.

Once the teen had fully calmed down and regained his composure, the two got to work. Well, Hobie started on one of the essays while Miles finally got a much-needed nap and meal. After he got his rest, they both worked on assignments, music playing in the background to help them focus. Every so often, Miles would groan in frustration, earning him a quick and reassuring poke to the side. And you know what? He didn’t mind it one bit.

#kasey's fruit shop #lee!miles #ler!hobie #ticklish!miles #atsv tickle #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #fruit shop event #across the spiderverse tickle #atsv #sfwtickles #atsv hobie brown #atsv miles morales

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pashminalamb · 1 year

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THOSE NICKNAMES ARE SO CUTE ABKGCFBHGG ofc you can call me either one you pick 😊. Also I hope that guy gets gum stuck in his horrible hair and is super late to an exam or something 😤😤😤. I don’t understand how some people think I want to hear their stupid comments?? Like whatever happened to the saying “if it’s not nice, don’t say it”?? Like unless we’re friends or close constructive criticism or advice is fine. But like. I haven’t seen you since school? Leave me alone. Some peoples audacity I swear 🤨🙄😤. Im sorry that that happened to you. AND YOU TELL HIM. MANS THOUGHT HE WAS CHANGING THE WORLD BY BEING RUDE TO YOU AND PROCEEDS TO LOSE A DEBATE AGAINST YOU NOT EVEN MINUTES LATER. HECK YEAH. YOU GO GIRL 😤🥰. Intelligence is so freaking hot though just saying. So like. Love everything about yourself cause there’s so much to love sweetheart ❤️❤️❤️. Also like I’m slowly falling for Nagi and Oliver but we’re not gonna talk abt that rn 👀 *swears profusely* Also also I love love love knowing random facts about all my favorite characters because it just makes them seem so real. It’s just overall really adorable. Like that invincible hero hates ranch with a burning passion and that one tired teacher loves swimming in coral reefs in their down time and that one amazing soccer player loves history. Finding out more stuff about all these awesome characters honestly makes me love them even more. Going to the gym is great btw!!! But don’t forget to also rest and not overdo it. Your body needs time to repair itself yknow? I seriously need to start going again. I was a gym rat the entire summer and I actually liked it?? I wanted to try something new and I ended up loving it. Idk it’s just the satisfaction of working on yourself and working all those feelings out and just taking care of your body yknow? But school got in the way and I keep telling myself I’ll go this weekend but I keep forgetting 💀😭. I shall add Romantic Killer to my watch list 😌. Is it an anime or a show btw? What’s it about? *sips from hot chocolate cup and hugs squishmallow* I’m still processing the ending of TR so like I need a couple business days to collect my thoughts but you’ll be the first to hear them when it hits me that it’s actually over. Also Isabelle is such a pretty name. I think it suits you 😊. As always I hope your day goes well!! *sends virtual hugs*

- ✨ anon

forget to add on my last ask agjhhhshehh 💀 but why those specific nicknames? like is it cause if the emoji or something else? sorry im just curious 😅.

I'm that kind of person who keeps nicknames for everyone actually... based on what they like or reminds me of irl has a friend named dumbface . And the thing is... the word 'anon' sounds... mechanical which is why I offer emojis to people who want to interact with me and visit my blog and everytime I look at ✨ emoji all I'm thinking of is a genshin wish or starry or charm and I literally go like

'starry asked me something!! *smiles*' But yeah cause of the emoji or in case send me a name that you'd like be called by? ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Thinking if I should call 💙 anon blue...

Going back to my classmate at uni... another bonus point is that since we hadn't seen each other in a long time; with covid and all that too I'm...actually two heads taller than him. And when he tried to be rude to me again today- this time about my hair cause its short (and yk what guys say abt girls with short hair right?), I said 'You talk big for someone who has to be noticed under a microscope, you wanna lose another debate?' And he actually shut up with his mouth open and a friend of mine who shares the second major class with him just laughed

Oyaoya you're falling for Nagi and Oliver ( ⓛ ω ⓛ ) Tell me all about it

I know !! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა The random facts about Oliver made me go 'No way. NO. WAY. WHAT.' cause there are too many things about me that coincide with him and I was just sitting there like... it does makes sense now. Cause when i was reading the manga too, I saw him and I went like... he gives me the vibe of a snake (cause I had a pet one and there's a whole history to that and it was guesswork) for some reason. *scrolls*

it's a snake alright.

Random facts just make my day and I love the fact of that one tired teacher who likes swimming in the coral reefs - pretty sure Ego is that kind of guy. When I found out that Aiku loves History I was like 'is it possible to fall any deeper for this man?'

So the thing with gym is that I was going for a good week and then i fell sick. and it kept happening back and forth until I got tired and irritated and said that i need to be consistent. And honestly? I love going to the place as well ! Plus I needed to get more muscle in cause... I wanna be able to lift more heavy objects. So me and my roommate were lifting this really heavy box and I couldn't get it over my head and nearly busted my skull but luckily they're stronger and taller than me so I was safe; I don't want to experience that again and that's why i decided to go to the gym. that and for mental stability and being fit as well ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

My classes do get in the way of me going to gym and studies take up my time too and that's why i balance everything. Priorities take first place, write little everyday and when its ready, I post it.

So Romantic killer is an anime about a girl who cares only about three things : gaming, her cat and chocolate. And cause of that, she's disconnected from the real world and can't fall in love with anyone the way i've been called out on with this show so a wizard who made an otome video game comes (their name is riri), and tries to set her up with this guy named Kazuki. And its all about her resisting him

His voice sounds very familiar though *goes to check* yeup, Kamitani Hayato from Gakuen babysitter club and weather report from JJBA

I just heard about TR from one of my friends. And I'm surprised abt it actually, maybe I should read from where i left off (forgot to ask about terano south) but take your time. I'll be there to hear all about it ૮(˶˃ᆺ˂˶)ა

My name... has taken one too many dad jokes, comes with being the youngest ig . DoorBELLE BELLEring

Not to mention the spellings and older people, ‘Isabella’ no, it’s Isabelle, Isabel? Izabel? No, Isabelle

Oliver : Tinker belle.

That is acceptable.

*sending warm hugs*

#Belle. ☏#.lost sheep : ✨ anon

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hhhecates · 3 years

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New Jujutsu Kaisen hc because I like to suffer and I got this idea after my sign language inumaki hc.

Okay, so... we all know that in animes there's usually that one really stoic and aloof character whose friends are complete fucking idiots and they just have to deal with them, so most of the times they are just annoyed as fuck?? (Yes, I am completely using fushiguro, nobara and itadori's friendship dynamics as a reference)

And we also know that at some point, maybe because faced with their past or because they actually risked to lose their friends, there's that one scene when the stoic character looks at their two dumbass friends arguing over something trivial and they are staring at them from the sidelines,,, and suddenly they just burst into this soft precious smile with rosy cheeks because they realize how much they care for these two idiots even if they drive them crazy?? And everyone looks back at the stoic character completely fucking baffled because what??? They had never seen them smile before and it's just so heartwarming??

But now, just consider sarcastic and annoying reader, soft spoken and polite to the point of mockery towards higher ups and loud and stubbornly undaunted when crossed. Reader is basically the pissy intj of the situation who is halfway between self-deprecating and god complex (gojo probably raised them lol, let's be real). And contrary to the stoic character, who's a little tsundere sometimes?? and who doesn't want to admit they care, intj reader just doesn't care. They don't want to. They don't know if it's worth it and are probably afraid that it's not.

Imagine them being a second year, and they're infamous because as much as you'd like to hate them (and prob a lot of people do) their "friends" really can't. Because reader is all about gratuitous sarcasm and soiled stubbornness that makes you roll your eyes, but they are also the first one to believe in Maki with everything they have got when she talks about her family history, they're the one that silence harshly the petty remarks of the Zenin whenever the most important families in Jujutsu meet, and no, it's not because they think maki can't fight her own battles, they'd never dare open their mouth to defend her because they know maki's own actions and achievements speak much louder, but they will never tolerate the Zenin's disrespect towards her.

They are the one that secretly buy books about sign language to learn it for inumaki, and before that they had an evergrowing list of his onigiri vocabulary on the noteapp of their phone. They're the ones that stay to the dorms with Panda when the others go get snacks because Panda can't really go out on their own, and reader always brushes it off by saying that they don't like going out anyways. They're the one that firstly greeted Yuuta with a half smile, tired but not forced nor fake, and called Rika a "pretty girl" because while she might have looked "just so scary", reader knew better than to dismiss the little girl still behind that "scary" appearance.

Reader is the one that exasperatedly yells at fushiguro, bite in their voice but none in their words, when they tell him that his thoughts and concerns are real and valid. They are the one that huff at itadori's sulking about sukuna and flick his forehead, then reassuring him not to have regrets for wanting to save people's lives when he ate that damn finger and that "whatever stupid thing you do, your senpais will have your back". Reader is the one that tries out new bakeries for Nobara in their free time so that she doesn't have to visit every single one in order to find Saori, and then brings her back her favourite pastries. And they're still the one that when gojo whines loudly, halfway between truly joking and self-deprecating, sigh at him and say in a joking tone "You might be standing alone as the strongest, but that doesn't mean that you always need to stand alone, you know that right?".

And it's so frustrating, because if any of the people at Jujutsu High was to be asked to describe reader, probably that would still leave every single one of them with their mouth hanging open in search of words, because they are annoyingly stubborn and loud, probably a little bit pretentious too, they're also soft and caring and attentive.

But they also know nothing more, nothing else about them. So what the fuck are they supposed to say??

Now, imagine that it all comes tumbling down one day, the elders come to Tokyo Jujutsu High to take reader with them (I imagine reader being like part of one of the main families, not the main threes, maybe a really important one just for the politics?? And the kind that just marries off their children to the three main families in exchange of retaining a high position, and like reader wasn't even born into it, they were adopted because they had like a really strong cursed technique or smth, that's why people from Jujutsu High didn't know who they were, cause they kept their old surname and basically escaped from their old life, cause fuck it, if the elders want them just to be someone's spouse, they are gonna be petty like that and become one of the best sorcerers instead).

For the first time they see reader scared out of their fucking mind, cause no, they don't want for their friends and their teacher to see them like this, to get their past thrown back at their face and drag everyone down with them. It makes them feel weak and helpless, and they fucking despise it.

But ofc no one there is gonna have any of the elders shit, gojo in the first place, and the second years too, boi they are so pissed, the first years just throw all caution towards the elders outta the window, cause they don't care.

They just refuse to hand reader over like they're not their own person.

And let's say they manage to send the elders back empty handed (for now at least, cause yes, I have more hc). But everyone if so fucking shocked??? And naturally now they see reader in a completely different light. And they treat them differently too.

And of course reader notices, how could they not, and they feel so disgusted cause they don't want their pity, they don't need it, they had spent already enough time pitying themselves.

But the thing is that they aren't acting like this out of pity, they don't pity reader, quite the opposite, they just see them as stronger. Because now they saw that reader too has weaknesses and insecurities, and all those things that reader calls disgusting and tries to hide, all those things that make reader agonizingly human. All those things that make them even more of a precious and admirable friend in everyone's eyes.

And so like, imagine that reader has closed themselves off in their dorm room, and no one is allowed in. They come out just late at night to take something to eat, but this time, they find everyone there in the kitchen/living room or whatever, and when they see reader coming all of them start stumbling on their words: the first years and their calls of "senpai! Please don't go back!" fushiguro is there too, and even maki looks worried, inumaki is weirdly serious, yūta visibly wants to speak but can't seem to find the right words and gojo sensei is there too, trying to silence everyone because of course, he is the teacher so "I need to be the first talking!".

And reader is just there, standing and watching all the people they care about the most argue and stutter. And it's a whole fucking mess, but it's okay, because reader is a bit of a mess too, and afterall who isn't?

And suddenly they all turn around to look back at reader because they be on the floor laughing their ass off at the scene, and then they stop laughing and look back at them with the biggest and yet softest smile ever.

And they take everyone's breath away, not because they had never seen reader smiling or laughing, they have, they do it plenty of times, but it's never like this. It's never this happy.

And it's in that moment that reader understands. They see it, and it's as clear as a day. They want to care. They care so fucking much. Because them, all of them, they are worth it.

Wheew, this turned out to be longer than expected,,, I’m so sorry shsjsksk. Also, thank you SO much for everyone who read, commented or liked my previous headcanon about inumaki knowing sign language, I really didn’t think anyone would read it, I just wrote it for shit and giggles but and now I don’t know how to respond???Also maybe I’ll be posting more of these, like a series with this reader? Yeah, I really can’t keep my mouth shut so lol.

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wh0re-4-techno · 3 years

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8. Don’t Kiss And Tell

Description: Going on a small lunch date with Techno at the Library. Guess who you run into.

Words: 3989

Last part :: Next part

Stepping out of his office, the two of you walk down the hall. He kindly took your bookbag on his shoulder.

"You know I have to thank you." You simply say, your shoes slight squeezing on the flooring. "Why is that?" He questions with his hands in his pocket. "Well, I don't think I would have the courage to ask you out." You turn towards up at him. "Even though we do casual make out now."

Right before leaving his office he changed, slipping into a pink crewneck sweatshirt and a pair of more comfortable shoes as he wore dress shoes for class. While doing so, you fixed yourself up too. Re-doing you makeup with you "To Go" bag you always had in your book bag.

He looks back down at you, "I'm glad I did too, I didn't even think you would say yes." He admits to you, it really didn't make sense though to you. "Why so? I thought I made it clear that I really liked you in your office." Winking up at him, his cheeks flashing a shade of rosy pink as he remembered what you two were doing an about half an hour. "Yes, I really liked that too, but I was just nervous." His cheeks still pink, which was adorable. "By the way, pink looks great on you." You complement the tall man. "Why thank you darling." How you wished you could hold his hand, he thinks the same.

Both of you go down the hall and stairwell, heading out the main doors to the campus.

The air was fresh on Autumn leaves, seeing as there was lesser leaves falling. But that induction meant it was mid-autumn. The air made the breeze that chilled you down after your heated make out session in his office.

You where still anxious to walk with him, but to the other students you were just having a conversation with a Professor and nothing else was happening between the two of you.

Pulling out your phone to texted Minx.

Y/n to Minx:

I'm sorry but I won't make it for field lunch

Looking back up to Techno, he had a sweet smile plastered on as you walk beside him. Excited for you little date. But getting your attention back to your phone.

Minx to Y/n;

It's okay :( Are you doing that assignment you told me about???

Y/n to Minx:

Ofc I'll meet you at the dorm in about an hour or so

You felt this strange feeling of guilt for not telling your best friend on what you were doing. But on the other hand you couldn't really tell her you where on your way to have a date with your Professor. As you waited for her response, Techno looks down at you, "Do you have any place in mind you want to go?" He asks, but your mind goes blank. Where could you given go without looking slightly suspicious?

"Like on campus?" You question him, there was no way in hell you where going to the café and have coffee with your Professor, or have a picnic on the field. That would look even more suspicious and the possibility to run into Minx. "We can if you want. I was thinking off campus though." He explains, looking for your reaction. Which you agree with, that was the smarter decision to do. "How 'bout a book store?" He says, that sounds pretty nice as you think about it. "It's quite..." He continues, but he pulls out his hands out of his pockets, pointing out with his finger. "No students would see us. And I kind of wanna show you a few book I think you would like." He had that same giddy smile as earlier. But his points did make a good defense, but you weren't going to deny his offer to a book store and watch him get happy being surrounded by books of literature.

And that he wanted to show you some books, it sounded too good to be true. But it was.

"Would you like to get coffee after? But not at the school café." He looked back up, he had a questionable face. "That sounds lovely darling." He says. Smiling as both of you continue to walk. Slowly you step closer to him.

------

Opening the door to the local book shop that was only a few blocks off the campus. A little ring on a bell once you step in, which Techno let you in first as he always does.

And there was the first time he did it.

He held your hand.

His hand was large compare to yours, which wasn't that surprising as he was much taller than you. But it made you feel like fine china as he held your soft hand with such care and gentleness. His thumb swipping lightly over the back of your hand.

You shifted your gaze up to him, seeing him not mention it as it was like nothing happened between you.

A small smile played on your lips, walking in the book shop and watching as Techno lead you the way through. It was quite small but cute. It smelt as freshly burning sage and coffee lingered as well.

Stopping to a halt, a rather large bookshelf that was made out of dark colored wood, the paneling was beautiful. How you wished you could have a bookshelf like this one in your student housing, but knowing damn well that thing would never fit or even match any furniture you would have.

"It's lovie isn't." Techno spoke softly, making sure you were the only one to hear him, even though you where pretty sure you and a few other customers where in this place. But non the less you question him on what he meant, he realizes and clarifies. "The shelf. I have similar ones in my office but still. They are very nice." He admires the shelf for another second before going back to the book of which he held. He wasn't telling lies though, they where very nice. And he did in fact have similar ones.

You lean yourself against his arm, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn't flinch one bit, he was too fixated on the books. His eyes scanning everything. Carelessly you just stand with him, taking this all in.

Reading the small few paragraphs recapping what happens in the story you simply fell for it. "It sounds very interesting." Looking up at him with a bright smile.

But hearing a small "Ah." From him draws you back to him. With his free hand he reaches for a book. It was hard cover that was a bright yellow like the sun. With large red letter spelling out the title, along with two men leaning into each other.

"The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg. Highly recommend." He passes you the book, his attention was on you now. Watching as you held it. Looking at the cover, it was very nice and once you flipped it to the back to read the description.

As you where about to place it back in the shelf along with a collection of other books Techno stops you. "Are you not going to take it?" In his voice was a slight sting as it was like it hurt to watch you pit back a book he recommended to you. "Well I don't have my money with me, I couldn't buy it-" You tell him so his feeling weren't hurt but he interrupts you. "I'll pay for it." He says.

You pull him down by your hand beginning connected. Stepping on your tippy-toes you place a kiss on his cheek. As a way to say thank you. He gladly excepted your thanks for the book as he turned down and kisses you on your lip, it was short and sweet but something in your head was telling you that you wanted more of him.

He stands up completely, "Any other books that I might be interested in?" You ask him as he walks you down to the next isle.

Looking around as this isle was completely full on non-fiction books. Of course he would be into non-fiction as he was a history teacher, knowing he would most likely pull out 10 books of famous historians for you to binge read.

"Y/n?" Someone asks behind the two of you, you quickly pull your hand away from Techno. As much as you didn't want to, you still did so. That voice, it sounded like someone you know put you just couldn't pin it down, well until you turn to the voice. It was him, "Hey Karl."

A small wave as a welcome to him as he walks towards you. You smile, even though you were pretty sure it looked uncomfortable and awkward. Karl still walked up to you and Techno.

Techno turns to you, seeing as to why you stopped holding his hand with confused, but that quickly drops once he sees this random guy. But soon to find out that he knows you. "How've you been, we haven't talked since the party." He sounds happy to see you, but maybe a little sad that you didn't text him at all, not even once.

Karl reaches out for a hug, which you hug him back. When Karl pulls away his eye drift down to your neck for a split second, but quickly making a double take. Seeing hickeys scattered across your neck. "I've been good Karl. How are you?" You ask him, Karl got rid of the thoughts that you had someone else kiss you and leaving thoughts marks, but was becoming more difficult. Techno stands behind you, looking down at the younger boy. "Really good, oh! Alex says thank you for his coat being brought back to him. So tell Minx that as well." He chuckles, he was very charming, but not good as Techno. That was loud and clear, but not to most people apparently. "I will tell her that, but I'm pretty sure they've been texting constantly." You roll your eyes at the thoughts of Minx messaging someone non-stop for the past few day, the bright light of her screen as she giggles.

He laughs at what you said, which you join in, "So whatcha doing here? The campus has a library." He ask, his eyes looking around and looking back at Techno, unsure how you knew this older man. "I could say the same to you." You quirk an eyebrow at him, "Well I don't like how they're people from school there, so I come here. But seeing you here I might have go to another one." He jokes with you, placing his hand on your arm. Again your laughing with him. Techno takes notice of this whole ordeal.

"Unless you would want to join me and go to another book store." He plainfully flirts with you, it was the first time you where asked out to go on a date with two men on the same day, non the less an hour apart. Techno, doesn't necessarily get mad about Karl flirty with you as he didn't know you where on a date with Techno. He wanted to tell Karl that you were his and only his. But he thought it was slightly amusing to watch Karl do it, trying his hardest to win you over, not so smoothly. "I'm actually hanging out with my- my friend." You turn your head to Techno, who had a grin plastered on his face. Unsure how to even tell Karl who he was, because you couldn't say that he was your teacher. He sticks out his hand, you stand in-between the two men.

The two men who fancy you.

It was a little awkward, "Just friends?" Techno questions with a smirk, letting you have to make an explanation rather then him. Karl on the other hand is confused on what he meant by that. "Don't listen to him." You ignore Techno's statement and put your focus on Karl. But Karl was going to question Techno. "How do you know Y/n?" He asks, slightly deepening his voice. You shift your eyes to him, what the hell was he doing? Techno knew exactly what he was doing, trying to intimate him, he didn't think of Karl as a threat to your relationship with him. "I'm in her class." Techno shakes his hand and pulls away from him. "Which one?" Karl sounds a little pushy, which was strange as moments ago he was calm like a clam. It was becoming more obvious that Karl wasn't the most happy to see you with such an older man and they you two where hanging outside of campus. Karl was starting to place it together, with all the clue. The hickeys, him saying "just friends", and how you tried not say you two weren't on a date. But it was obvious.

"Do I need to say?" Techno plays with him, it was clear as the blue sky as Karl was slightly jealous to Techno. Again, hella awkward for you.

Breaking off the tension that was building rather quickly. "Alrightty, it was good to see you again Karl. But we actually have to go." You tell Karl and somewhat to Techno. Karl looks away from Techno, putting on a smile once he turns to you. "It was a pleasure to see you again. You do have my number, so if you ever wanna meet up." He winks at you before turning away from you. Glaring at Techno for a second. Walking off towards the door.

Both of you wait for the door to ring, which does, he left.

Looking back to Techno with a dead pan look, "Really Techno." You stare up at him, "What? He was the one flirty with you." You chuckle at him, men. "He didn't even say bye to me, rude." He chuckles at his comment. He shrugs off his shoulder, giving you his full attention once again.

"He seems sweet though." You roll your eyes at him, hitting his arm playfully which he chuckles at. "Do you like him?" He asks, not in a jealous way but in a more curious tone. At least that's what he wanted you to think. "Don't get me wrong, he's cute. But no, I only met him this Tuesday." You explain to him, he quirks an eyebrow with a stiff laugh.

"And I'm into someone else." You tell him honestly. The same goofy smile was on his face from earlier. He bends down slightly, "And who might be that darling?" He questions already know the answer, you give in and tell him, "You of course." Once again you kiss his cheek. "Good to know, because you have a bunch of hickeys from me." You wack him on his chest this time, giving him a glare, basically telling him to shut up. But he just smirks at you. "Com'on I'm not wrong. You love it don't you?" He still at your eye level, taunting you. He raises his eyebrow, waiting for your response, which he also knew the answer too. But he just wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth.

You play along with his game, leaning to his ear, "You're never wrong Mr. Blade. Only you can mark me up like you do." Pulling away slowly, connecting your eyes while doing so. But before you can fully retreat away he grabs ahold of your arm, not hesitating to let go. Now that you were playing along, there was no way out.

Kissing you slowly, getting pulled in like a tide. It was passionate and full of wanting for each other, but before you could continue it, Techno pulls away. That cheek son of a bitch, but the same could be said about you.

-----

The smell of espresso was different than the school campus café, more exquisite. More expensive, but to be fair this coffee shop is a little pricer then the schools.

It felt weird for him buying you stuff, sure it was only a few books and now a coffee, you really didn't want him to do that. You were a grown woman and can buy whatever you wanted.

But on the other hand, it was very kind of him to do so.

Both of you stand in line. You were next to order and already had a drink on mind that you could order. Looking at Techno, he was eyeing the black chalk board with white lettering. He seemed a tad bit confused about what everything meant. He leaned down to his side, whispering to you, "You don't mind if I get a tea?" He did look like the person who would prefer tea over coffee and it was quite obvious too. You giggle a little, "You don't need to ask me, get whatever you want handsome." He smiles at what you said, slight pink blush on his cheeks by what you called him.

Ordering was simple on and Techno paid right away.

Both of you wait for your drink by the corner. Looking around the café to see if you recognize anyone from your classes, none of the customers where recognizable, which was a huge relief.

"You never told me why you didn't do that homework assignment." He says looking down at you. "Well, in your own words you said "I could careless about that stupid assignment" so..." You draw out the "so". He looked away from you, you were right.

He reached down you to your hand, holding it once again. Rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

The barista calls for the both of you, grabbing the drinks and heading for a small round wooden table by the front. Huge windows lining the wall, letting in the natural light into café.

While sitting you take a sip over your drink before he asks you once again, "Why didn't you do it?" You look up at him, confused at what he meant, but back to the conversation. This time around he asks more blunt, there wasn't a way to be coy. Deciding it was best to tell him up front, "I was at a house party Tuesday. I was hungover on Wednesday, but still went to class. So I just never got around to it." You tell him, taking another sip of your coffee. "You actually went to class hungover?" He asks almost like he forgot everything else you said. "Yes." You give him a look, like a "duh". He chuckles at you.

Thinking back to the party, "I actually met Karl at that party." You point out, which makes Techno slightly bite the inside of his cheek. A little frustrated that we we're talking about that boy again. "He was nice, he put me and Minx in my car so I wouldn't think we did anything when I woke up." You explain to him, that point it made Techno thoughts stop, smiling at how he was nice. Plus it made a tad more sense that he really wanted to go on a date with you. "That is very kind of him." You simply nod to him.

Placing your hand on the table to take yours, which you give him your hand once again. "I really don't want to go back." You tell him, referring to campus and school which he got quickly, he takes a sip of his tea. The slight noise of the other customers in the shop was very relaxing for the both of you. "I could say the same thing darling, but I do get paid there so..." He jokes with you, which you chuckle too. "Plus I get to see you there." He was right, both of you see each other two day a week. Even though it wasn't the best, it still was an option. "I wish we spent more time together." Looking down at your hand, which was interlocked with his. How you wanted to do this every second, but physical impossible to do.

He sees your little dismay, he felt that same thing.

"You know what?" He shrugs his shoulder, drawing your attention back to him. "We should have dinners on Fridays? Does that seem like a good option?" He asks, hope and excitement filling his voice. A toothy smile awaits for your response. It was a good option for you, you only had one class that day and didn't really makes plans. But then there was Minx. She would normally makes the plans for herself and bring you along, even though you really didn't want too.

This was better then going to some clubs and getting hungover and waking up in someone random person bed, now you could possibly wake up in his bed.

Thinking for another split second. "That sounds like a plan Mr. Blade." The smirk on that man's face was make you close your legs. Now you have plans on Friday, thinking about it. That was tomorrow.

-----

He walked besides you, his hands in his pockets now, unable to hold onto your.

Maybe it's because it was fall or the two of you were out so long, the sun was starting to darken to a beautiful sunset. Which lit up the sky with a burnt orange with purples and pink.

Looking up Techno, he's already looking at you with a sweet smile. Just admiring you at how you stared up at the sky. God, he would never be able to get over you...

He reaches up to your cheek, his fingers locked around your chin as his thumb swiped your lips. His eyes looking back and forth between your eyes and back to your lips. Softly he spoke, "So pretty..." Like it was just for him to say. Saying it as a fact to the universe. Just restating it.

He bends down. Leaning your head to the side while standing on your tippy-toes to get more into the kiss. Forgetting that you where on campus and in front of everyone, that was the thing. It didn't scare you, not one bit. No one was outside your dorm building or walking by.

Slowly pulling away from each other, his hand still on your face. "I'll call you tomorrow about that date." He smoothly says, sliding his hand off of you. He hands you your bookbag from his shoulder, you kind of felt bad for him holding it all this time on your date. But tomorrow he won't need to hold it. With a wink he started to walk off.

Opening the door to the entrance and making it up the stairs well, once inside you squeal with excitement. Letting your hands flare.

Smiling to yourself while stepping into the dorm.

"There you are!" Minx reaches out for you, pulling you into a hug. "Yeah, I was just handing out with someone." You tell her, not exactly saying you were on a date with your Professor, but close enough. "Was it Karl? Is that why you where out again today!" That was Techno she was referring too, you weren't going to say that though. Not wanting to lie to her anymore, decided to play around with her.

Shrugging with a smirk you don't tell her. Heading to your side on the small room and placing your bag on the bed. She follows right behind you, preparing for you to tell her who you were with, but that never came. "Don't be a tease!" She whines, pissed off why you didn't even text her back, which you just remembered you didn't text her back. "I don't kiss and tell Minx." You say while hopping on your bed. "Fuck you." She says, flipping you off.

taglist:

@alexandrium @aplaintart @sadassflatass @sugarcoated44 @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @sammyxn @bbnoloves @l-O-ser @elly-isabella @fudrudy

#mcyt #mcyt fic #mcyt fanfiction #technoblade #technoblade x reader #techno #techno x reader #professor technoblade x reader #professor #professor technoblade #x reader

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rein-ette · 3 years

Note

Hi!

I was inspired by your asks, so I wanted to hear from you! What do you think of Canada as a country? I had a bit of a Canadian phase long ago and I tried to consume as much literature and history as I could, but reading about a place and living in it are very different experiences, so is there anything you'd like to share about Canada, about the culture or the people? Do you like living there? What are some of your favorites things? How do you survive the winters?

And also, as a character, what do you think of Matt?

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Aaaaaaaaah okay okay *ahem*

If you’re not here for a Ted talk the exit is to your left, have a great day!

I do love Canada very much! I was born and pretty much grew up here, and as I’ve grown older I’ve become more and more grateful for everything that my country has provided for me! I remember my history teacher in high school said once that by being born into the middle class and as a Canadian, you’ve already won the lottery of life. That was not to disparage other countries, but to remind us of how remarkably privileged we are and how much we take for granted.

One of the first things you hear when you ask people what does it mean to Canadian is the word “multicultural.” I find this word realllyyyyyy cringeyyyy and not really reflective of reality, but I suppose it’s a good starting point for more in depth discussion. People often say Canada is a “cultural melting pot”, but the indigenous poet Marilyn Dumont pointed out in her poems that in some ways it’s more of a mosaic — there are many cultures, but they don’t always meld together. To say it’s a melting pot is ignoring the fact that racism and discrimination certainly have and do still exist here.

But I would argue that in some areas it is a “melting pot”, even if I kinda hate that word. I prefer to think of where I live as cultural delta — a place where many mighty tributaries meet as they thunder into the sea. (It is also literally a delta, funnily enough) Here, I grew up absorbing Canadian ideas, studying British history, reading American literature, learning French — but I also grew up listening to Kpop, watching Ghibli, eating rice. When I meet up with friends, we don’t grab a coffee, we grab milk tea. If you ask people here where they would like to visit or live, they will most likely say New York, London, Hong Kong, or Seoul — which tells you a bit about both how powerful and diverse the cultural influences here are.

Perhaps the thing most indicative of Canada’s “multiculturalism” and what I am most grateful for, however, is that I grew up here without fear. I didn’t even know the words “chink” or other words existed until I could access the internet. Recently, the beatings of Asian immigrants in the UK and US brought this home for me — how lucky I am to have such a privileged childhood. And I know this kind of privilege is hard won; in my research of WW2 I found that one of the amusement parks that I used to frequent as a child was built on land that once housed a Japanese internment camp. How fragile our lives are!

But enough about the serious stuff. I can’t really answer your question about how to survive winters in Canada lol, except to say that where I am in Canada it is absolutely necessary everyone own at least 3-4 umbrellas. That’s because this side of the Rockies in BC, the temperatures are pretty mild year round — the coldest it gets is usually 0, and the hottest around 25. But, by god, it rains. I did go to Ottawa in the winter though, where it was -13 one day, but honestly? Everything below 0 feels pretty much the same. Once it gets that cold, you can’t even tell anymore. I wore a skirt and tights that day, with a good, thick winter coat. And I survived :D

Besides not being heckled on the street for being Asian, my favourite things about Canada are probably the amazing diversity of good food and how tremendously beautiful the wilderness here is. And I say this as someone who loses her mind when a mosquito flies past (ie. I am not a nature person). You can kinda tell from these photos here, but the trees and water and whatnot here, are like, real. Maybe I just find that amazing because I lived in Tianjin, but it just feels like this is a city built among the trees and the sky and water that was always here, and not a city where humans have brought in nature for our amusement.

Okay, gotta move on to your other questions or I’ll go on forever. As a state I think Canada does a fairly good job of providing for its own people, but I wish we had a greater global influence. A lot of youth especially express the view that Canada is kinda...boring if your career doesn’t have to do with, like, sports, nature, or medicine, and I would tend to agree. We have great universities, but as someone who studies international relations I often wish Canada would like? Do more? On the global scale. The only thing we really have under our name is the UN peacekeeping, which PM Pearson started after the Suez Canal Crisis. I mean, I’ve heard that many people abroad identify Canada with peace and like ofc I’m not complaining about that, but I just wish our history was a little spicier, ya know? We did kick Americas ass that one time in 1812 and that was amazing. No regrets.

So that brings me to Matt. A lot of Canada’s existence has just been dominated by trying to carve a way between the US and the British while not being swallowed by either. Britain gave us the protection and strength and diversification of identity to not be annexed by the US, but at the same time it hobbled Canada’s relation with our only neighbour. One of the very first treaties Canada negotiated alone, if I’m recalling correctly, was a trade contract with the US over fishing (?) in BC and Alaska, where London was like no you can’t and Canada was like uh we gotta make money too, bro. So yes, while I do believe Mattie is just a very loyal person in general, he was also loyal to the empire because he needed to survive. A lot of Canadian identity was solidified around our prompt assistance of England and the sacrifices made in the two world wars, especially the campaigns in the Low Countries and Italy. Essentially, Canada has historically differentiated itself from the US through its loyalty.

Uuuuh just realized that has nothing to do with my opinion of Matt. Um. I like him? He’s real best friend/big brother material, and I do hc him as far more cunning and capable than canon portrays him to be. However, sometimes he’s just...too nice. He doesn’t have that edge that England has that makes me wanna slap him tf up and sob and call him my baby at the same time. Also, as oumaheroes mentioned here, that kind of selflessness can get pretty toxic. After all, by consistently not voicing or examining your own needs, you make it incredibly and unnecessarily frustrating for the people who care about you to help you, and that creates a relationship just as one sided as one where the person is extremely selfish. Actually, now that I think about it, my biggest gripe with Mattie as a character and Canada as a country is in that word: selfless. Without self. Perhaps because Canada is still so young, but it feels a little lost, a little like it doesn’t know quite know yet why it exists.

TLDR: If you’re under 18 or over 60, Canada is the place to be. If, however, you’re like me and wish you could touch a building that’s over 150 years old and maybe visit a square somebody’s been guillotined in, perhaps try someplace else. Personally Portugal’s golden visa is lookin especially tempting lately

#I’m not on my laptop and I don’t know how to add a cut on my phone #so I’m really sorry if this takes up ur dash #I will fix this as soon as I get home #it’s reining again #thanks for indulging me needcake #ask #also rip i was gonna give book recommendations but tbh does Canada even have literature #I mean we do we DO but #uh have you tried Margaret Atwood? lmfao #i mostly read American and European lit and I feel kinda bad about that #Canadian history is...kinda dry tho idk #maybe it’s cuz I learned it in school

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kuiinncedes · 3 years

Note

PROMPT LIST? cheerio!tina & skank!quinn, angst #37, quinntina ofc

yes prompt list!! sorry this took so long, thanks sm for prompting sim <33

some pre-notes: first that wow this got long again 😂 2398 words (before probably some edits in the tumblr post editor) *oops i did it again*

1 2 3 these are my other three (very short) “installments” for this “verse” i guess 🤪 i wouldn’t say it’s required to read them tho i think everything is pretty understandable 🥰

this also got a little anti rachel lol 🥴 and anti schue but like yeah and i think that’s it 😗

Angst 37: “Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.”

Glee club has been going well… all things considered.

Including the fact that Quinn’s crush on Tina only grows, that Rachel Berry still doesn’t seem to warm up to her and Kurt’s presence in the choir room, that the teacher really kind of sucks and apparently only Kurt and Quinn see it, that most of the other members are still wary around them - around Quinn.

But not Tina. Tina, who’s one of the most popular girls in school, not actually head of the Cheerios but probably the most well-liked, and there’s a reason. Tina is the first to welcome her and Kurt to the glee club after their audition, the first to make an effort to befriend them. She talks to Kurt about fashion, and Kurt is hesitant to bring down his facade but Quinn can tell how much he loves it, how much he’s missed talking about something that brings him so much joy. Even with his temporary and purposely limited wardrobe situation, he’s talked Quinn’s ear off about the things he wants to do and wear in New York City; she doesn’t understand much of it so she’s glad Tina does.

And she talks to Quinn. Tina actually talks to Quinn like… like she’s a person, just another student at this school, not Quinn Fabray, half of the most cold and closed-off duo that walks the halls, ex-most popular girl in school, Quinn Fabray with an unspeakable history, unspeakable in that Quinn will have consequences for those who speak about it.

It’s dramatic, she knows. But it’s part of her untouchable image at this piece of shit school with its horrible students.

Not Tina. Tina’s not horrible.

(Get a grip, Fabray.)

It feels like she and Kurt are on the edge of a precipice with glee club. Tina likes them, Blaine is nice enough to them (Kurt seems to like him, too), Rachel isn’t very welcoming, everyone else mostly ignores them. (Which is fine - preferable, really.)

They sway in the back, they sing, they do their part. And Quinn has missed singing, so it’s not all bad, she supposes.

But Quinn can feel the tension, the others’ hesitation whenever she and Kurt walk in to sit in the back, their unspoken thoughts, loud in their silence, their barely hidden glances.

She feels like she’ll tumble from the edge with one push.

One day, Tina sits beside Quinn and she can’t stop her jump of surprise. Tina just shoots her a small smile and moves her chair a bit further away, but Quinn finds herself wishing she would scoot the other way instead.

Tina keeps sitting by Quinn, and Quinn has no idea why.

She ignores the way her heart speeds up a little every time she makes eye contact with Tina, the way Kurt smirks knowingly at her but then returns to staring at the back of Blaine Anderson’s head, the way she can’t stop letting her eyes wander over to Tina every time Mr. Schuester starts talking about something she has no interest in (which she admits is very often).

Kurt had said glee would give her the chance to talk to Tina. And he was right - she’s made conversation with Tina multiple times (mostly initiated by Tina, though), and she would say they’re friends. Tina has said they’re friends and she definitely didn’t freak out to Kurt about it.

Kurt she called me her friend holy shit -

Inside voice, honey. Your gay is showing.

Shut - we’re literally outside. Let’s talk about you and Blaine.

Nope, fuck you, walking away now.

Kurt - wait! She - but she called me her friend - Kurt -

Besides Kurt, Tina is probably the person she’s closest with. Which still doesn’t say much - she’s not close to anyone besides Kurt…

But she wants to be, she thinks as she watches Tina perform an upbeat solo, a song she doesn’t recognize, but she watches her - how alive she looks, how good she sounds. It’s not like Quinn hasn’t heard her sing in the months since she’s joined, but if she had it her way, Tina would be the only one singing in this entire group. (She would insist on highlighting others, though, so Quinn adds herself and Kurt to that list. Not that they would ever get a solo.)

“All right, guys,” Mr. Schuester says. Kurt nudges Quinn with his elbow to get her to pay attention, and she shoots him a half-hearted glare.

“So that was everyone who signed up to audition for a solo at regionals,” he continues. “I’ll let you know who we’re featuring by tomorrow. So I’ll see you then!”

“Who do you think is gonna get it?” Kurt asks as they leave, walking out to the parking lot.

“Um…”

“Right, I forgot, you’re too busy staring at Tina to know what’s going on in glee.”

Quinn scoffs. “I know what’s going on in glee.”

Kurt gives her a questioning look.

“I do! Sure, I didn’t know about the auditions, but I know Rachel’s probably getting the solo, even though it should go to Tina.”

“Anyone could tell you that.”

Quinn shoves Kurt lightly, a smile spreading across her face as they get into his car. Quinn’s been spending more time at Kurt’s lately - Quinn’s parents don’t give a fuck about her - they did the bare minimum allowing her to stay when she was pregnant and they’ve used up all their good parenting cards, it seems. She’s infinitely grateful for Burt Hummel, because if the kids and some of the teachers at school are going to treat her and Kurt like shit, at least there’s someone in their corner.

Completely unsurprisingly, Mr. Schuester announces Rachel as the soloist for regionals the next day, after years of the same thing, from what Quinn has heard.

Surprisingly, Tina isn’t in the room. Although, Quinn thinks, she wouldn’t be either if she knew what the outcome was going to be. And everyone knew what the outcome was going to be.

But Mercedes pushes back against his decision anyway, Santana complains, Blaine and Brittany try to placate, Kurt watches Blaine, Rachel jabbers about her destiny as the New Directions soloist or something, Quinn sits and wonders about the empty chair next to her. (She also wonders what would be the easiest way to get Rachel to shut the fuck up.)

She’s not paying attention, letting everyone’s arguing fade into the background. She barely registers Rachel saying shrilly, “We’re supposed to be a family!”

“Not much of a family when you’re the only one who can have anything good!” Mercedes snaps.

“I bet you wouldn’t react like this if Kurt or Quinn got the solo! Like they would even deserve it! At least I belong here, they don’t even - ”

“Would you shut - ” Mercedes starts at the same time Santana yells back, “Quinn doesn’t need a family, she’s a mother!”

And she knows - Quinn knows - that Santana just does this, she says shit and hurts people and this is just that and it’s whatever but -

Suddenly Quinn is in sophomore year again, hearing the taunts of her classmates behind her back and to her face. Suddenly she’s in sophomore year again, somehow invisible in the halls but also the only person anyone was looking at, pointing at, laughing at. She’s in sophomore year again and teachers do nothing to help her, no one but Kurt bothers to notice anything but the fact that she’s pregnant. And they laugh, and they taunt, and they stare.

She’s a mother.

There it is. There’s the edge of the cliff that she has been fighting for balance on in this stupid club for months.

Like they would even deserve it.

They don’t belong here.

And Quinn’s falling.

“I need to go, meet you at your car,” she says roughly to Kurt, who it seems hasn’t been paying attention at all, more focused on committing to memory the details of Blaine Anderson from halfway across the room. Quinn storms out and the arguing continues behind her.

Quinn slams the door to the bathroom as she barges in and all at once, sees that Tina is here (Tina is here?), realizes that she herself is crying, trying not to make noise and she just throws her bag on the floor and sinks down against a wall, hands around her knees and head leaned back. It’s too fucking much.

“Quinn?” Tina asks gently, so gently and Quinn watches as Tina kneels down in front of her. “Are you okay?”

Quinn wipes at her face, laughing harshly. “Yeah. Fine.”

Tina looks at her, not moving but just watching her. Quinn thinks it must be uncomfortable for her to kneel on the bathroom floor in her Cheerios outfit. Quinn thinks that Tina shouldn’t care about her, she should just leave, save her knees from the cold tile.

She doesn’t leave.

After a moment, Tina says, “Hey, so, you don’t have to tell me anything… but I’m here if you need to.”

Quinn’s not actively crying anymore, grey smudges on her fingers where her makeup was wiped off. Her face probably looks like a nightmare, but she’s too exhausted to care. She leans her head back again and fixes her gaze just above Tina’s head, at the ceiling, the harsh bathroom lights piercing her vision through the tears in her eyes.

“I just - ” I guess I’m talking, she thinks, “Santana said something dumb about me being a mother and that’s what I heard sneered at me every day for months and even now still… and I’m not…”

Quinn trails off, looking at Tina again who nods, encouraging her to continue. She swallows and averts her gaze again.

“…and Rachel said something dumb about Kurt and I not belonging and not deserving it but she’s Rachel and I don’t care about the shit she says - I usually don’t. But her saying that - ” she scoffs. “Newsflash, Rachel, we don’t fucking belong anywhere.”

That was painfully made obvious sophomore year, with Quinn’s exit from the Cheerios, from popularity. It was obvious when no matter what, she couldn’t get it back, any of it. It was obvious when she and Kurt were the only ones to really notice each other and help each other. It was obvious when the only choice they had, the one they took, was becoming this and isolating themselves. It was obvious when the only chance they had was each other.

As if she needs someone else to tell her that, to rub it in.

It’s been building up, she realizes, this feeling, the hatred, the estrangement and isolation. She wonders if Kurt feels the same, how close he is to the edge, or if he’s even on a precipice like she is at all.

Quinn’s falling, she doesn’t know when or how it will end and she just wants -

“Lie to me,” she says to Tina, teeth clenched and voice tired. “I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.”

Falling, falling, falling -

Quinn thinks bitterly that she should be used to it after her falls from popularity.

Tina takes her hands gently and squeezes them in reassurance. “I know this might just seem like words, and I’m not lying - you do belong. Both of you. You belong in glee club. You belong here.”

Quinn just swallows again, letting the words wash over her, and in the back of her mind, the part that’s not thinking about - everything, she marvels at the fact that Tina is holding her hands, and Tina’s skin is soft, and Tina’s words and actions feel genuine.

Falling… slowing.

Lie to me.

“We don’t belong. Everyone hates us,” Quinn mutters.

“I don’t,” Tina says, smiling a little. “I know we can be pretty difficult, the glee club, but we really don’t think that. Rachel might - if I’m being honest, I think she’s the one who doesn’t belong in glee club, for a multitude of reasons - but it really is supposed to be a safe, welcoming space. I’m really sorry we haven’t been able to do that for you.”

Quinn shrugs. “You have,” she admits softly.

Tina looks like she doesn’t know what to say to that. Quinn pushes herself up against the wall, a little awkwardly, hands still intertwined with Tina’s, who squeezes again. “I’ll talk to her,” Tina says. “Rachel. I’ve been getting fed up with her shit, anyway. I’ve been needing to talk to her.”

“Okay,” is all Quinn can think to say, quietly uttered, her voice a little choked. “You don’t have to - ”

“No, I do,” Tina says. “And I want to. Mr. Schue lets her get away with way too much.”

Quinn huffs a laugh and Tina grins slightly, then withdraws her hands and pulls them through her ponytail, suddenly looking almost nervous. Quinn drops her hands in her lap and plays with her rings. Now that Quinn’s calmed down, her proximity-to-Tina-Cohen-Chang-induced nerves are back in full force.

And maybe she isn’t falling anymore.

“Why weren’t you there today?” she asks after a moment.

Tina’s lips clench into a line. “Knew Rachel was getting the solo. I don’t know, I didn’t want to deal with that today, you know? Three years of the same shit, I’m just tired of it.”

Quinn hums in understanding. She can imagine.

“Are you okay? What do you say we… get out of here? Go somewhere?” Tina asks a little awkwardly, wincing slightly as she stands up and extends a hand for Quinn. She takes it and lets Tina pull her up.

“I’m actually… going home with Kurt, ” - but going somewhere with Tina - Kurt will understand - “actually, yeah, sure. I’ll let him know,” Quinn answers, not letting herself doubt the decision, pulling her phone from her pocket and quickly typing out a text and sending it to Kurt, who immediately responds.

omg did u actually talk and get a date with tina cohen chang

Quinn replies, fuck you, i’m leaving bye

are you okay?

yeah, fine i’ll talk to you later

ok have fun on your date ;)

yeah 🖕

Tina bounces a little and shoots her a smile when she puts her phone away. “Awesome. There’s this coffee shop that I think you’ll love - ”

“It’s not the Lima Bean, is it?”

Tina laughs. “Of course not. Barely anyone knows about this place, at least from school, so I really love it there.”

Tina grabs Quinn’s hand again and they head out of the school, Quinn ignoring how she can feel her pounding heartbeat against Tina’s skin. Hopefully Tina doesn’t notice.

*****

some notes for after 🤪

ok so i don’t really know why i used the “she’s a mother” line and idk if i’m just overthinking it but i’m not saying that scene was bad or anything ?? idk lol it was just on my mind i guess so i put it in slkdgfj (basically,, not related to the canon scene lol i just like adding canon lines 😗)

i think the point i was trying to make if any was that quinn doesn’t really have any family (in this au) so yeah it’s kind of a sensitive point

i did say this was very similar to my previous werewolf!quinn and vampire!tina fic but i’m okay with it now tbh,,, you know like it’s an alternate universe and they just help each other in all universes :’) yeah

i would love to continue this but i don’t have the best track record with that lol so we’ll see 😂

#quinntina #glee #glee fic #my ficsssss #prompt fills :))#no one: me while writing this (and the vampire werewolf one): kuinn kuinn kuinn kuinn kuinn #kuinn isn't even like my favorite friendship lmao why haven't i written kurtcedses dlkfsdjgkfj #i feel like other people who take forever to answer fic prompts do so bc they're working on it the entire time #whereas i just wrote this in the span of like an afternoon and evening and i'm posting it askldgjkhsdjf #i also keep thinking about how it's so fun to write quinntina ??? it was so hard to think of things for the two klaine prompts i got #and i ended up just going canon mostly #but with quinntina i'm just making shit up 😈 idk lol it's great #mostly thinking about that bc my two klaine fills were like 500 words or less ?? i don't remember #and this is my second 2k+ word fic for a quinntina fill aksdfjkgdjsf anyway #ugh i had stuff i wanted to say but i'm lazy so that's it lol #*screams and hits post* a;sldhgfkaldjsfgk #oh shit forgot to tag #asks #porcelain-nightbird #<3 #hell yeah i got one more prompt to do lol

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mysticalmusicwhispers · 3 years

Note

HELLO sorry i had an extremely busy past week so i left this to stew for weeks T_T (my term break was Not a term break in any sense of the word. f)

OH OF COURSE SHE HAS A BLACKLIST.... vietnam keeping a list of students who are Brats is really so valid.. i'm willing to bet that in future when that dubious list of students grows up many of them will go on to commit morally dubious acts lmaoo including yao himself. and if they get arrested or if rumors spread she'll just be like "lol called it"

Also yes go get her friendship Aditya hopefully it will mellow you out a little as well - YEAHH their personalities are like. polar opposites tbh because he's Dramatic And Extroverted and she's very much Not... but for some reason i can just see them really bonding (over things like coffee if i had to make a guess though i haven't really thought about these two in depth.. )

“Admissions officers think Yao’s amazing and contributes greatly to the classroom environment and Vietnam is like “yeah, in a way, as long as you don’t mind someone who thinks every word you say is somehow wrong and will fight you to prove it lol. just take him, I’m trying to get rid of him”

JUST TAKE HIM I'M TRYING TO GET RID OF HIM THIS IS SO FUNNY WTF also aww baby yao's Going Places!! he comes back for like teacher's day or something and vietnam is like "okay so how many of your teachers and your classmates have you antagonised" and yao's like "my teachers love me and my classmates fear me. or they're begging me to help with their homework. or they're potential friends/accomplices >:)" and vietnam is like ugh love to see that you're terrible as usual

Since there’s essays involved I’m assuming she teaches either history or literature? Kinda on the fence because I feel like she’d be good at giving a no-nonsense version of history filled with interesting details and prompts that make you think (and also hosts monthly debates on controversial issues), but I also want Yao to be as un-confident as possible in his abilities in her class, and I feel like he would be less comfortable/sure of his answers and thoughts in a lit class than a history one. I’m not sure though

honestly i would really want her to teach lit so bad but history would be so cool too.. as someone who suffered through lit for the first month of school (though i think i'm getting the hang of it now :D) i also want yao to suffer through the feelings of inadequacy when the teacher gives an evaluation that is COMPLETELY different from yours while also awkwardly trying to tell you your evaluation is wrong without crushing your ~passion for learning~ or something... but at the same time vietnam has such strong history vibes??? and they would probably clash over like different methods of historiography and methods for interpreting sources BUT historiography isn't really taught in-depth here at high scholl level ... And at the same time lit is the best place for one to feel Insecure so i really don't know because vietnam has such History/art vibes.. i think you should decide this i have no idea 😔

Context

“she'll just be like "lol called it"” that’s such a mood honestly, watching your former bratty students grow up to be bratty adults 😅 At least Vietnam’s predictions for the future are vindicated and she gets self satisfaction from it lol. (maybe she sends emails to them sometimes like ‘are you aware that people think you committed tax fraud’ and the reply is just a simple ‘yes. sincerely, Yao’ lmao)

ooh yeah I think they’d be interesting; definitely agree with what you said about India being really flamboyant and Vietnam being more honest/down to earth and definitely someone who hates when people put on airs (which Aditya does to a fairly large extent...). I think she’d like him just a tad more because he isn’t super condescending and gets along with his classmates pretty well; she knows he’s trying to impress her (lollolll they’re all trying to get teacher points for recommendations) but at least he’s friendly and participates in class and stuff. Also I think India’s good at small talk, makes an effort in getting to know people, and is very emotionally in tune with other’s feelings (even if he’s a bit stupid/oblivious sometimes) so even if Vietnam is kinda closed off to him at first (she’s nicer to him than Yao though, that’s for sure) he can get along with her quickly by picking up on what she likes talking about and accommodating her interests. Yao could theoretically be charming like Aditya but he just doesn’t make an effort lol. YES to bonding over coffee, especially raging about how Starbucks is Inferior™™™™ (idk if Aditya would drink coffee but I think Vietnam brews her own Vietnamese iced coffee at home and bring it to class because she needs Fortification for putting up with Indchuran lol.) However, I also want to see her popping his bubble and whenever he’s exaggerating one of his accomplishments, Vietnam just shuts him right down. “No, he actually didn’t go all out; I’ve had students turn in whole ass dioramas for that project so your meager offerings are nothing special :}” (Vietnam has the pleasure of crushing each of their egos in turn hehehe)

Yao came back to visit her!!! Looks like someone caught feelings (platonically ofc) :) She sees right through his excuses for coming back and is like “haha bastard you got sentimental and Attached to me >:)”, but then Yao proceeds to remind her exactly why that’s a bad thing lmao (also... what if... we smashed this au and bros for life together.... and Vietnam is the first person to see that they’re hopelessly pining on one of their visits to see her..........and she calls them out on it....o-o)

“"my teachers love me and my classmates fear me. or they're begging me to help with their homework. or they're potential friends/accomplices >:)"” LOVE TO SEE YOU’RE TERRIBLE AS USUAL ALDSjSDLSD Yao dashed my hopes of him becoming somewhat of a model member of society but seeing him as an unchanging bastard is still quite alright. Headcanon that Yao really hates helping with homework though, because he’s like “WHY DON’T YOU GET THIS” after about 5 seconds of trying to explain something. Pity, he would be good at teaching if only he had the patience for it :} Also I propose that he really hates that teaching isn’t enjoyable for him because it would be great blackmail material (i.e. “if you do this to me I’ll stop giving you the answers to the problem sets *winks in a threatening manner*”)

SAME literature is the one class that makes you thoroughly question your comprehension and understanding of everything in life everything ever written, but HISTORY. she would be such a fun history teacher and I can see her having her students really dig into events for themselves and make their own evaluations of why things happened and who’s “right”. YES THEM CLASHING OVER HISTORIOGRAPHY hmm... maybe we could get around historiography not being covered much by having Yao be Extra™? For example, maybe one day Vietnam offhandedly mentions there’s a lot of interpretations around x period (and whether it was a success or failure) depending on which type of historiography you subscribe to; Yao, who was already feeling strongly on the subject, does some research (“what is historiography” “interpretations of x” *rabbit hole of articles ensues*) and then goes to class the next day armed with 10 sources and a full on debate about the subject ensues, resulting in him being late to lunch by half an hour.

What about a compromise, where Yao has a ferocious literature teacher (who??? idk) but Vietnam is teaching history, and when he gets comfortable in her class he starts complaining about the lit teacher and she thinks oh finally, a teacher that he’s intimidated by. I am at peace now. 😌.

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romewritingshop · 4 years

Text

Universal Words Chapter One: Think about it

Fandom: Narcos

Relationship: Indian!OFC x Indian!OMC

Warnings: None

Word Count Total: 2954

Summary: Priya Srivastav is an uneducated housewife who decides to take English classes at the behest of her sister. Coming to the classes, she is drawn in by another class fellow, a mysterious withdrawn writer by the name of Javier Peña. As sessions go on, Javier and Priya learn more about one another and discover a new form of communication.

A/N: This is a fic where multiple characters speak different languages so the words highlighted in bold indicate the character is talking in another language.

Universal Words Masterlist

Tagged: @tiffdawg @storiesofthefandomlovers @arrowswithwifi

Priya sat on the sofa with a blanket wrapped around her body, staring dead straight into the Indian drama serial. She didn't know what it was called but the familiarity of the language brought some peace to her heart. Meena sat at the dining table with papers around her and a laptop in front. Her eyes often darted from the screen to Priya. She sat back and rubbed her head. She couldn't focus as she saved her work and shut down the computer, going around the dining table and sitting next to Priya.

"Did you finish your work?"

"No."

Priya frowned and glanced at her sister. Meena had a grimace on her face as Priya unwrapped herself from the blanket to offer to Meena, who took the edge and laid it over her lap.

"Why?"

"Because you sitting here is distracting me from working. It's been two weeks since you've come out of the house. You need fresh air."

Priya rolled her eyes and stared straight into the television, ignoring her sister's suggestion. Meena sighed and held her sister's hand with comfort rather than sympathy.

"Look I know what happened hurts. But staying cooped up in the house isn't going to help. You need to get out there and work. For Jig.”

She hated it when Meena mentioned Jignesh but she knew she was right. She had to go out and work to support Jignesh. At the mention of him, the front door opens with two voices squealing excitingly followed by a deep stern voice.

“Mama!”

Priya glanced over her shoulder watching as her son and niece skip through the door followed by her brother-in-law. Her son, Jignesh or Jig ran around the sofa to jump into her arms, excitedly talking.

“Mama! Today we had chips and chocolates because it was Max’s birthday! And Mrs Jones gave me a sticker for being a good helper.”

Priya smiled as best she could even though she didn’t understand what her son was saying. He was speaking too fast for her to comprehend but she could sense it was something good judging by his big smile and shiny eyes. Meena could see her sister trying to focus on what Jignesh was saying and she decided to step in for Priya. She took Jignesh and sat him on her knee, subtly translating what he said.

“Really! You got a sticker from Mrs Jones and you had chocolates!”

Priya gave a nod, understanding what happened as she held Jignesh’s head in her hands and she kissed the top of his forehead.

“You are such a good boy, Jiggy. I’ll buy you a present tomorrow.”

“Yes!”

Jignesh jumped off and ran upstairs to get changed as Priya and Meena got off the sofa. Priya went to the kitchen to make a start on some snacks for the kids as Meena went to her husband, Yadav and daughter, Radha.

“Hello, you two! How was your day, Radha?”

“It was okay, Mom. Had a maths test and got an A minus. I gave my history project to my teacher. I also signed up for piano lessons.”

Meena smiled and hugged her Radha, who turned out of the room and went upstairs to get changed. Meena gave her husband a hug, staring lovingly into his eyes, talking in hushed tones as if to ensure Priya couldn’t hear. It was useless because Priya wouldn’t have understood what they said anyway. Priya smiled wistfully as she was chopping cucumbers into sticks. Meena and Yadav came around the kitchen counter, as Yadav greeted Priya.

“Hello Priya. Did you have a good day today?”

“Yes I did. I watched an entire indian serial.”

Yadav gave a concerned nod and turned to his wife, asking for help on how to broach the topic but Meena shook her head and urged him to talk. He had a responsibility as a brother-in-law to help out his sister-in-law. Yadav rubbed his moustache and found a way to start the conversation.

“So, Priya. Did Meena talk to you about classes?”

Priya turned to Yadav with an unimpressed raised eyebrow and Yadav grew skirmish under her stare. She nailed ‘disappointing’ as Yadav tugged his shirt collar.

“Look, it's for your benefit. I don’t understand why you don’t want to go. It’s just three hours during the day and you'll be home before Jignesh finishes school."

Priya put the knife down and took in Yadav’s words. She hated that they were offering easy ways to go to the class without stress but it was something she had never done. Her mother raised her to be a dutiful housewife and she couldn’t understand what the point was in learning English.

“What am I going to do with English?”

Meena rolled her eyes and held her sister’s hand.

“You can go back to teaching. I know you loved teaching maths and English will help you get a job to support Jignesh. You can’t keep relying on Amit’s child support.”

Priya was feeling even worse as she understood the deeper meaning of her sister’s words. Meena wanted her to get out and the only way she was going to get out was if Priya had an income to pay for rent for another house. Priya sighed as she took in her sister and Yadavs’ faces. She really wanted to believe they cared for her but deep down they just wanted to get rid of her: a single mother holding on to her sister for support. Who wouldn’t?

“Just think about it, Priya.”

Priya gave a nod as the two kids came tumbling down the stairs and thundering into the kitchen. Priya smiled and brought a tray of vegetable sticks and a tub of dip. Everyone sat around at the dinner table as Priya watched her son scoop a big pile of hummus on his cucumber stick. She should do it. For Jignesh. Jignesh beamed at his mother and she beamed back at him.

~~~~~~

Priya stood in front of a coffee shop, waiting around for Meena to just finish up at work. Priya was still unsure about English classes. Something was holding her back but she couldn't put her finger on it. The coffee shop was quaint and homely from the outside. She caved in to Meena’s request to step out of the house and with an extensive list of directions, Priya was able to take the subway to Manhattan; to a small coffee shop with the logo of a green woman.

She looked down at her dark green saree to brush away the creases. Priya looked fairly decent and nice as she wrapped the extra saree cloth around her shoulders to protect herself from the breeze. It wasn’t long when she heard a low hum from somewhere. Looking into her purse, she realised it was her phone as she reached in and answered it.

“Hello Priya?”

“Meena, I’ve reached the caffee shop.”

“Listen, I’m really sorry but I’m going to be stuck in a meeting for an hour. Sit in, order a coffee and then I’ll meet you at Central Park.”

“But Meena?”

“Look I’ve got to go! See you.”

The phone cut and Priya was taken aback by Meena’s hasty behaviour. She understood that Meena’s work was important but she left her in a difficult position. How was she supposed to order coffee for herself? Priya took a deep breath, reassuring herself that she could do it. It’s coffee. All she has to do is ask for a coffee and then pay. She glanced down at her phone to the store and then stepped in.

It was about time that she tried to be independent for herself, especially if it was going to be just her and her son for a couple of years. There were three people in front of her as she looked around the small shop. It was fairly full with scatters of people on sofas, high chairs and tables. Some were couples, others were with laptops and one or two just sat with a book. She noticed a man alone at a table, his lips pursed with focus and his dark moustache neatly brushed.

He was staring deep into a brown leather bound notebook and his mug of coffee sat with steam whispering away. There was something about him that reminded Priya of Amit. She recognised the quiet stillness as she took a deep breath and tried to shake away thoughts of Amit. She turned her eyes forward and noticed that she was next. Taking an awkward step forward to the cashier, who looked young and sprightly as she had a wide smile on her face. Hat sitting just right which made her face more noticeable rather than hidden.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

‘Help’? Priya didn’t understand what she meant because all she had come to do was order a coffee. She looked at the menu with uncertainty. The words did nothing to help and she didn’t see anything remotely looking like the words coffee.

“Help?”

“I mean, what do you want to drink?”

Priya understood. ‘Drink’. She looked at the menu and was hesitating to read the names, nor understand them.

“Coffee?”

“Sure, we have different types of coffee? Which one would you like?”

The cashier was still expecting more and Priya was stumped. Was coffee not enough?

“You have coffee?”

The girl’s smile faltered slightly and Priya felt unbelievably guilty. She didn't mean to be awkward with her lack of understanding.

“Yes we do, there are different kinds. Which one would you like?”

Before she could answer, a deep voice behind her bellowed angrily.

“Hey lady! Can you hurry up?”

The cashier’s smile dropped into a grimace as she brought her head around Priya’s view and directly to the direction of the deep voice.

“Hey buddy! There’s a thing called patience! Surely you can wait a few minutes!”

The deep voice grumbled angrily as the cashier turned her head back to Priya with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that.”

The cashier was apologising about the voice and Priya felt a little tense from the embarrassment. Out of the corner of her eye, the queue behind her was piling up slightly and she hated being a pain. Forget the coffee, she was thirsty for water. Surely there were no complications with getting a glass of water.

“Water?”

“Of course. Do you want still, sparkling, iced or flavoured water?”

Correction, there were complications with water and Priya’s head was hurting even more. The cashier seemed to notice the customer in front of her was having a hard time deciding what to choose. She wasn’t being overly difficult, she was just unsure and unclear. She seemed to just understand coffee and water and the cashier was feeling a little bad for her. Then she took in the customer’s saree, having a guess she decided to talk in Hindi.

“Do you speak Hindi?”

The cashier noticed a big smile on the customers face as she vehemently nodded. Priya was relieved when she heard the familiar words of Hindi.

“Yes! Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. Do you want anything to drink?”

“I want coffee.”

“There’s different types of coffee so it is not easy just to say coffee because they’re all coffee.”

“Oh! I was wondering why coffee wasn’t on the menu? Well do you have tea?”

“We have different types of tea.”

In the midst of their conversation, an unwelcome deep annoying voice bellowed again.

“Hey! You mind talking in English?”

The cashier fumed as she looked around Priya with fire dancing in her eyes. No longer a polite smile and she was not going to hesitate to put this customer in their place.

“I didn’t recall asking you to be a part of our conversation. You don’t like Hindi, go somewhere else for coffee!”

The slightly tubby man threw his hands up in frustration and stalked out of the cafe. The cashier smiled to herself and turned herself back to her customer in front of her.

“Sorry about that. People don’t have any respect nowadays.”

“I’m really sorry. I’m holding up the queue.”

“Don’t worry. Take your time.”

“Could you recommend something for me?”

The cashier took a moment to look at her customer fully, taking in the sari, simple plain face and bright curious eyes. After a few minutes, she was able to choose something she had a feeling the customer would like.

“Chai Latte. I think that’s a good coffee to start with. I’ll give you a small cup. That’s three dollars and fifty-five cents. Drinking inside or taking somewhere else?”

“Drinking inside.”

Priya smiled with relief, she was able to order a coffee, with the help of the cashier. She reached into her purse and handed the cashier five dollars. The cashier handed her the change and gestured to her to take a seat at a table. She did just that and sat at the table, bouncing her leg with habit. A nervous comforting tick. A few minutes later, a white mug was placed on her table and the lively cashier took a seat opposite to Priya, leaning back and spreading her legs as wide as possible, one ankle resting on her knee. Priya was entranced by her demeanour as the girl smiled and raised an eyebrow at her.

The cashier watched as her customer took a sip of the chai latte, and her lips pursed in and her eyes scrunched slightly. She smiled and leaned up with both elbows on the table, eyebrows hooked with curiosity.

“So you don’t like it?”

“No, it’s different from the coffee I have back home. A little bitter but decent.”

“At least you’re honest.”

Priya watched her with curiosity and realised she hadn’t gotten the name of the kind cashier.

“Sorry, what was your name?”

“Pooja.”

Priya was certainly surprised by the Indian sounding name as Pooja smiled. Pooja could tell this customer hadn’t met anyone like her; she probably hadn’t gone out of her house often as Priya mouthed the name in question. Pooja set about introducing herself to educate her customer.

“Yes. I’m from Nepal. My mum liked the word and thought it would be a good name for me.”

Priya gave a nod and took another sip of her drink, slightly liking it more as she thought it appropriate to thank the cashier.

“Thank you again for speaking in Hindi. I’m sorry I kept your queue long.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know what it’s like not being able to communicate in English.”

Priya had to agree there and smiled at Pooja. She was still dressed in her uniform and Priya worried that she might be keeping Pooja from her job.

“Are you not going to get in trouble by sitting here and talking to me?”

“Nope. My friend owns this branch so he basically has given me free reign.”

Priya smiled as she looked around the various patrons in the coffee shop, feeling slightly down at the fact that her sister wasn’t able to come meet her here. Pooja noticed the way her face fell and carefully treaded onto the topic of her dull face.

“So, were you here to meet someone? Most of the people that come here: meet people or do work.”

“Yeah, my sister was supposed to come down and have a drink with me but she was stuck in a meeting. Told me to get a coffee then meet her later.”

“Ah.”

There was a comfortable pause as Priya finished off her coffee. Pooja was an interesting character, carefree and strong, not to mention outspoken. All the things she wished she was and she couldn’t help but venture down this deep path of discovery.

“How did you learn English so well?”

“The same way I learnt Hindi: I picked it up from watching a lot of TV and films. Soon as I came to New York, I hung out with a lot of people that spoke English. It wasn’t easy but it worked for me.”

Her brain was reeling from this experience as she thought back to her sister’s insistence on English classes. Should she actually bother or should she just wing it like Pooja? Maybe she might get her answer by phrasing the question in a hypothetical situation. It always helps with getting clear cut answers.

“If you had the choice to go to English classes, would you go?”

“Definitely. At least I’d learn all the proper grammar and structures of sentences. I taught myself and that took hours of my time. If I went to a class to learn how to speak English, I’d feel much more confident in my speaking skills.”

It was certainly not the answer she was expecting as she took in Pooja’s words. Before she could ponder deeply, her phone rang and cut before she could answer it. It was Meena, probably finished with her meeting as she stood up along with Pooja.

“That’s my sister. Again, thank you for the drink and just being kind to me overall.”

“It’s alright. Kindness starts somewhere.”

Pooja headed back to the coffee counter with Priya’s empty coffee mug, taking her place by the till and taking the next order. Priya was heading towards the door and looking through the phone when she accidentally bumped into a wall. She brought a hand to her forehead before looking back forward to see a tall person instead of a wall. It was the moustached man as he stood with a grim face, leather bound journal in his hand. Priya apologised and stepped around the man, walking straight for central park where her sister was. After talking with the cafe worker, Pooja, Priya decided that she would give these English classes a try.

CHAPTER TWO: INTRODUCTIONS

#narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #javier peña #javier pena #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fanfic #javier peña fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: Arranged {4}

Yahya Abdul Mateen II x OFC Nyorie Kane

Warning: Mild Cursing. Plot

Words: 2.7k

Summary: Yahya is thirty-three, and his friends and family all seem to believe that it is long overdue for him to have a wife. He’s been set up more times than he can count and with his busy schedule and rising Hollywood star, it is becoming even more difficult to meet people, well people who aren’t looking for a come up. In the beginning, he said he didn’t want anything serious; his motto was “I’m was here for a good time not a long time.” Then it became he didn’t want anything that would distract him from where he wanted to go and what he wanted to accomplish. Now that his fame is rising and he’s approaching a sweet spot in his career he decides what the hell the time might be right.

In comes “A Match”, an exclusive matchmaking company run by his best friend Ramel’s wife Tamika. He gives Tamika and Ramel free rein and all his trust to find him, someone, he’d mesh well with. Instead of going through her clientele Tamika has just the right woman in mind, her best friend, Nyorie. Things are done a little unorthodox at “A Match” though. This unconventional route is credited for a near-perfect success rate.

Note: I’ve only tagged those who have expressed to be on a forever tag list.

***None of the images are my own***

**Loosely Proofread/Edited**

**Interactive**

Need To Catch Up?| Chapter one | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*

-Chapter Four-

Three days later he was staring at a stack of papers that was the contract agreement. Included in the agreement was also the usual fee for services. Tameka was making bank especially if this was the standard fee for every client. Among the papers was an extensive explanation of what she did, what she didn’t do, how she did what she did and what was expected. There was a code of conduct as well as termination policies. Inside the welcome packet there he found all the information about the different stages and the steps in each stage. This was very detailed and when he assessed it all, it wasn’t a completely illogical way to approach dating.

Yes, it was absolutely nuts to agree to marry someone without seeing them, but the saying love is blind was coined for a reason. No, it probably was never meant to be taken so literal, but the truth was the same. Love was blind, love should be found and established with the purest cornerstones. His only hang-up was if this was something that was logical for him and who he was now. He wasn’t some local baker, or a teacher or even a city planner anymore. He was an actor. Now most places he went, he was recognized, approached and watched.

Yeah he could go incognito eighty percent of the time and he was glad for it but he’d come to accept the luxuries of life before were not his luxuries now. He’d traded privacy for paparazzi, and traded clipboards for scripts. He still hadn’t gotten over the differences in his life from a year ago to today.

The more he flipped through the papers and read them over carefully he thought more and more about what the road would look like moving forward with this. He thought about the kind of connection he would want with a woman and the likelihood of finding it like this. He went up and down and around it for what felt like hours. He talked himself into it ten times and out of it ten times. He’d even written a pros and cons list and had thrown it out and done it again too many times. By the time he’d come up with a decision he was fed up with thinking about it. He knew it was the fear of the unknown at this point. The only thing that was in his head at this point was doing the damn thing. So that’s what he told himself as he tapped out a text to Tameka.

MSG: Let’s do it Meeka. Let’s do the damn thing!

He shook his head and tried to shake off how ridiculous he felt. He knew he was ready for it, but he just had to get out of his head with it and allow whatever was meant for him to freely come.

MSG Tameka: All right then. Fill out the paperwork, bring it back, fax it, courier whatever you choose. Once that’s processed we’ll start your screenings. Be mindful we’re going to be digging deep into your personality. Truthful answers are the only answers acceptable, especially if you want success.

MSG: Got it. Thank you Meeka.

MSG Tameka: You’re like my brother Ya. Anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.

He’d known Tameka for over ten years. They were similar. In the beginning stages of Ramel’s relationship, he took it upon himself to get to know her to be sure she was right for his best friend. It didn’t take him long to be convinced she would be a good fit for Ramel. Since then they’d gotten closer and she really had turned into someone he considered a sister.

He sat there in his living room filling out the first page of information.

“Name; Yahya Abdul Mateen II. Nicknames; Ya, Hya. Date of Birth; July 15, 1986. Gender; grade A man baby. Family; mother and one brother, four sisters. Ethnicity and Race; Black and Proud. Height; six-three. Religion; Muslim. Gender you are seeking; female. Marital Status; Single. Income.”

It was there he first paused as he tried to think of a response. Was he supposed to put his current net worth, what he had in the bank, what he was averaging per movie? He was probably thinking about too deeply, but he didn’t know what to put, so he put something basic and carried on.

“Comfortable.” As he got to the second page it got a little more personal. There was a question asking about his family history then another inquiring about his blood type. After that, it went into physical illnesses or mental illnesses. When he saw the big leap from there to asking about communicable diseases he blinked because it wasn’t even page six and already things were getting real.

He spent the next forty minutes or so answering the second, third and fourth pages that asked everything from STDs to medications currently taking. It was pretty detailed which he understood. These were important questions to know before matching someone. He zoomed through the questions about the reason for his decision for matching, and what his expectations were. He’d set the bar pretty low. He wasn’t sure what to expect so he decided to expect nothing spectacular. You can’t be disappointed if you never really set your hopes up, right?

By page six the real hard-hitting questions began. “What are you looking for in an ideal match?” He thought it would be a difficult question, thought he would have no idea what to write but that wasn’t the case. He found himself writing away.

“A woman who is down to earth, funny, honest and smart. A woman who knows what she wants from life and isn’t afraid to go out and get it. a woman who is caring, understanding, passionate, supportive, ambitious. Someone who is silly and has a silly sense of humor and doesn’t take themselves seriously. Confidence is major for me, someone who loves music as much as I do, has a great attitude, positive, classy but definitely kinda hood.”

He reread it and nodded his approval and continued.

“What’s your type?” A wide smile spread across his face because he knew his type. He’d imagined her several times over the months. “Curvy and thick in all the right places, meat on the bones, beautiful lips, expressive eyes, nice smile, shorter than me, fashionable, black and proud in everything that means.”

Thinking about his ideal woman and had him thinking what if Tameka actually pulled it off and found someone that was just right. What if in a few weeks his ass found a wife and not just another ex. That tripped him up and had him stepping away from the paperwork for a few minutes to collect himself and his thoughts with a glass of Henny. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ready, or he was reluctant for change, it was the reality of a possibility.

When he returned to the papers he earnestly answered the remainder of the questions that ranged from a full six pages about him and his dreams, wants, desires and another six pages about his ideal mate and what he would want her dreams, wants and desires to be. When he was finally finished it was almost three in the morning and he was exhausted. He’d felt like he’d done a mental marathon. There were questions in this packet he hadn’t thought about in years and at all. he took that as a good sign. The more in-depth the questions the better the outcome, right?

~~~~~~~~~

A day later he was sitting in an office with a couple Tameka introduced as Dr. Rachel Abramson and Dr. Martin Abramson. They were in charge of mental and emotional screening and preparedness. His first impression was that he would sit in a comfy chair and discuss his thoughts and feelings about beginning the process. For the first hour that is exactly what happened. They had him begin and assured him now was the time to get all his questions out. So, since they wanted him to ask questions he did.

“Are the two of you really that good to have so many success stories? There has to be one story of complete failure.”

The two of them looked at each other and then back to him before they busted out laughing. After a few moments, they finished and Martin spoke first.

“Tameka said you’d be a little apprehensive about the process.”

“She sure wasn’t lying,” Rachel added.

“Ha-ha-ha, very funny. You can’t blame me, can you? This is pretty peculiar.”

“Okay here’s the thing. On a scale of normal and insane, this is insane when you think of it from a societal norm perspective. We’ve all been taught and conditioned that we have to do things one way in order to find the love and happiness we want and deserve. So we go our entire lives on this hamster wheel trying it over and over and over no matter how many times we fail. No matter how many times we don’t find that love or happiness we want but heartache or loneliness. At what point do you change your perspective? At what point do you start to wonder what are societal norms doing for me? Here we’re changing up the norms. There is no reason why a different approach cannot work,” Rachel finished.

“We’re doing a different approach for the same goal. The only difference is our approach actually works and it continues to work. We’re that good at what we do because of the process and the screenings, these chats. We now know you want to be a believer, but you have to be shown the way. That will go into your profile and into the decision for those we cross with you for a match,” Martin explained.

Taking a few moments for their words to register he nodded then shrugged. “All right. I’m here. Let’s do it.”

That was when they began to dig deeper pulling him to talk about his entire life story, relieve every decision he’d ever made, every experience. He thought about things he hadn’t thought about in years. They had a way of bringing deeper meaning to his experiences, his struggles. They gave him worst-case scenarios and stressful situations, questioned his decisions in relationships and life. They dissected everything and the whole time they wrote note after note and exchanged look after look. After another two hours, he realized just how deep this process got. He felt like he’d just gone through the most extensive counseling session he’d ever had.

“How do you feel?” Tameka studied him with a slight “yikes” face.

“Damn that was intense.”

“Yeah, Rachel and Martin really get in there and tear you apart and put you under a microscope then put you back together. Usually, everyone who sees them says they feel refreshed leaving.”

“Refreshed? Meeka I feel like I just got a soul cavity search.” She laughed and shook her head.

“Boy, you so stupid. Seriously, it’s all right. It’s like this for everyone,” she assured.

“Are all screenings like this?”

“I wouldn’t say that. This one usually puts everyone through a wringer, you’re facing a lot of things, it makes you doubt yourself; it’s supposed to. It’s part of the process. The worst is behind you. You have three more screenings and then we’ll move on to the fun stuff.”

“What exactly is the fun stuff?”

Tameka smiled widely and zipped her lips. He didn’t have a good feeling about whatever it was she was talking about.

Sure enough, four days later he’d felt like he’d actually gone through the wringer. He’d completed the following screenings that focused on his potential mate love languages and expectations, and sexual expectations and intelligence. It was definitely an intricate process. From what he could tell those he’d dealt with really knew what they were doing.

After a quick trip to New York for work and a trip with his brother and sister to Vegas for some downtime, gambling and silliness he felt refreshed.

Today he dribbled the ball around the court with Ramel and crew he tried to keep his mind off of things. Tameka said they would go through his responses and screenings and put together a complete assessment that they would then use to go through their database of potential women he would mesh well with. He knew the processes couldn’t be rushed but he was getting a little anxious after three days and no notification on the status.

He was a little off his game and Rashawn was taking advantage of that. He stole the ball and dropped a perfect fadeaway bucket. He stood there shaking his head.

“What the hell has got your mind so outta the game you let Rashawn of all people steal your ball?”

They laughed at him together and he had to admit he deserved it. He walked to the sideline and dropped onto one of the bleachers. His boys sat around him taking sips of their water.

“Is this about this matchmaking?”

Rashawn and Tyrell both sounded off. “Hold up, matchmaking? Are you getting set up?”

Dropping his head back he rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t want them all to know in case it didn’t work out and he was in fact unmatchable.

“Yeah, I was trying something different, thought why not.”

“Okay. We didn’t even know you wanted someone. Why you ain’t say something?”

He shrugged and rolled his head around. “No reason.”

“So that’s why your jump shot is shit and your ball handling is even worse,” Tyrell chided. He laughed at the insult to injury, he was already feeling like crap.

“Man kick me while I’m down. Great.”

“Leave him alone. Tameka’s process is tough. In the early days when she was giving me the run down, she blew my mind with how detailed everything is,” Ramel defended.

“Right. Damn, I had no idea. After four days I felt like she’d unlocked a whole nother level to my personality I didn’t even know I had.” They all laughed but he wasn’t joking. He was woke before but now he was third eye woke.

“So you’re waiting for results now?”

“I’m waiting for them to finish analyzing my assessments. I think they’re screening me with potentials. I don’t even know.”

“You ready to meet someone? I mean you could have yourself a girl in a month’s time,” Rashawn voiced.

“He could have himself more than a girl in three months’ time,” Ramel corrected.

“Yeah, I’m ready. The interesting thing is throughout the whole process of them analyzing me and asking me every question ever invented it had me really seeing how empty my life has been and how stuck I was. It opened my eyes to show me what I had to offer and that I was ready to offer it.”

They all nodded fulling understanding what he meant. He was glad he wasn’t friends with men who ran from commitments and dogged out their women. He was glad he was surrounded by levelheaded mature men who sometimes acted like complete idiots behind their wives’ backs.

“Well, I hope Tameka can work some miracle because it will have to be one hell of a woman who keeps your attention cause God knows you got that ADD,” Tyrell piped up.

Again, they all laughed together, at his expense.

A few more days passed with him working even more. He went on more and more auditions and his name was being kicked around quite a lot. According to his agent and manager, his name was brought up a lot for different projects. The ones that had him super excited was the fourth installment to The Matrix and a Candyman remake. He grew up on Candyman and damn near tripped down the steps when he’d read the email about it.

The days passed quickly, and he traveled between NY, Miami and LA all for auditions, meetings, interviews, and photoshoots. he was busy but in the back of his mind, he wondered where he was in the process with A Match. The longer he went without hearing something, the more he worried that he was unmatchable.

As he was pulling into LAX from his recent trip to London Tameka’s message caught him off guard.

MSG Tameka: Great news. When can you come in?

His nerves went into high gear as one thing repeated in his head.

“So it begins.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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fanfictionaries · 4 years

Text

Where the Green Grass Grows - Part 1. A Real Fine Place to Start

@imanuglywombat credit for the moodboard/art!

Summary: After leaving town in 2001, Marianne Grace Barnes swore she’d never step foot in Texas again. She was happy with her life in San Francisco. She had great friends, a great job, and a loving boyfriend. But when her mother insists she come home after six long years away, Marianne comes face to face with someone she vowed to never lay eyes on again. Now the questions arise: Is he so different from the man who broke her heart? Is she so different from the girl she used to be?

And most importantly, is she as happy as she really thinks she is?

A story of love, heartache, and that special feeling of being home.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: AU Cowboy!Steve Rogers x OFC

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s note: This is my entry for @arrowsandmixtapes ‘s RomCom Writing Challenge! So sorry for the late entry, Covid has been a whirlwind of a time.

Prompt: Sweet Home Alabama (2002)

***

The streets of San Francisco were their normal, misty grey as Marianne Barnes rushed down the sidewalk. Scrubbing at the technicolor specks of paint that covered her arms, she wondered why that day of all days she had decided to introduce the splatter paint portion of her student’s curriculum. The current semester was focused on abstract and modern art. Slowly she’d been introducing them to all of the history and techniques behind the different styles before allowing them to try it out for themselves. While initially it seemed like a fantastic idea, she soon realized that allowing a group of middle schoolers the freedom to literally throw paint was a recipe for disaster. Luckily, she had her art smock to cover the entirety of her clothes, but that had not saved her arms and legs from the ricochet of paint as the over enthusiastic kids hurled globs of color as hard as they could at blank canvases. Continuing to rake her nails against the skin of her arms, she sighed in frustration. She really should have taken a few more minutes to wash up one more time.

It was important that she look nice tonight. Tony, her boyfriend, had invited her to dinner stating he had some “big news”. Marianne assumed that it probably had to do with the big business deal he’d been working on for his company. Tony was a visionary of sorts. Having come from family money, his future was always to be well off. However, he had taken the extra steps to truly make something of himself and slowly over the years of his career he had come to own the single leading company in clean energy technology. She was proud of him – even if his job did take up a large amount of his life. However, without his job she probably wouldn’t have met him. She thought back to the embarrassing moment in which they had met nearly a year ago.

Marianne pulled at the neckline of her dress, the Peter Pan collar currently feeling as though it was going to choke her as she shifted uncomfortably by the food and drink table. As much as she liked being there for her best friend, she really wished Natasha would stop inviting her to these kinds of events. While Nat insisted that she’d stay right by Marianne’s side, she always ended up alone at some point in the night, twiddling her thumbs in a room filled with strangers. Having met in art school, Marianne always found it incredibly interesting how drastically different her and Natasha’s careers were. While Marianne had opted for teaching the youths of America about Monet, Dali, van Gogh, and Matisse, Natasha had settled on the curation of art, a field that suited her much more appropriately. The rubbing of elbows with the hoity toity rich was a perfect fit for Nat’s easy, sophisticated, and, for lack of a better word, sexy personality. With her naturally fire-red hair, knockout curves, and perfect smile, Natasha was the type of woman that when she walked into a room, every person either wanted to be her or to fuck her. There was no in-between. Even for Marianne, who supposed in some ways, she’d like to be a bit more like Natasha.

That’s why she was so surprised to be approached as she clung to her glass of champagne and pretended to stare contemplatively at the same painting of a flat tire for the fifth time that night.

“What do you think?” asked a smooth and timbred voice from beside her.

Marianne chuckled slightly to herself continued to trace the thick brushstrokes of the painting with her eyes. “Well, considering the artist’s theme of stagnation, I think they’ve gone a bit too on the nose with this one. It’s…unimaginative,” she commented, before turning to see the handsome man beside her. If she’d actually been drinking the champagne in her hand, she might have choked on it. Luckily for her, she hadn’t.

The man continued to stare at the painting in front of them, a contemplative expression that brought his thick, dark brows together, before he turned his gaze to her, “So you don’t think it will sell tonight then?”

“Oh no, it will definitely sell. I’ve been to enough of these things to know that it’s not really about taste, so much as it is status. If the artist seems important enough, then so is their art,” smirked Marianne, this time actually taking a sip from her champagne flute to avoid focusing on the intriguing way in which the stranger was staring at her.

“Ah, yes. The snobbish elites’ inability to see past their own social status,” he commented dryly, taking a sip from his own flute.

“Hey, you said it, not me,” Marianne laughed, feeling as though she might have made a connection with a reasonable person just yet.

“And who do I have the pleasure of giving me all the inside critique?”

She extended her free hand out to the man, “Marianne Barnes—art teacher, friend of the curator, and overall critic of the snobbish elite.”

He took her hand in his own, his grasp soft, yet strong as he shook her hand and stared her directly in the eye, “Tony Stark – member of the snobbish elite.”

Marianne blanched at the words, the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment taking over her as she realized her mistake. She was just beginning to open her mouth to apologize when Tony held up a hand.

“No need to apologize—” he inhaled deeply, looking around the room and the people that inhabited it “—Truth be told, I don’t think I can stand a single person in here. You excluded of course, but who knows that may change.”

Marianne wrestled with the smile that fought to match Tony’s own wry grin. He was too charming for his own good. Taking a second to look over his expensive suit, Italian leather shoes, and $200 haircut, she reckoned he was much too handsome and successful for her own good. Still, she figured there was no harm in a little conversation.

“Say, I like your accent. Where’s that from? Georgia? Alabama?” asked Tony, stepping in to close the distance between them and making the interaction feel so much more intimate than it should.

Marianne gasped in mock offense, “Excuse you sir, but I am Texas born through and through.”

“My apologies ma’am,” Tony said, holding a hand to his heart in sincerity. “It’s never my intention to offend beautiful women. But for some reason, it just, well, happens.”

That comment made Marianne pause, “You think I’m beautiful?”

He took a moment to assess her, raking his eyes over her from head to toe. Not in a predatory way, but more like he was assessing another painting on the wall. Then he answered, voice heavy in sincerity, “Most beautiful piece of art I’ve seen tonight.”

The sharp tone of Marianne’s ringtone brought her out of her musing and back to the present as she waited at a crosswalk for the light to change. Digging into the deep contents of her purse, she cursed under her breath, pushing aside pens, pencils, scrunchies, lotions, and general clutter before her fingers closed around the buzzing device.

“Hello?”

“I just really don’t understand why Serena and Nate just don’t get together! I mean, he basically broke up with Blair for her, the least she could do is date him,” groaned Natasha from the other end, before Marianne heard the distinct crunch of popcorn being chewed.

“Hey! Spoilers, I haven’t watched last night’s episode yet! Besides, I really don’t have time to talk about Gossip Girl right now,” she huffed, glancing at the time on her watch and realizing she was even later than she thought.

“Well hurry up and watch it! I want to talk about what Chuck did. You’ll never believe it—”

“Seriously Nat, no spoilers!” Marianne exclaimed, now picking up her speed as she crossed the street, trying not to catch the heel of her stilettos on the cracks in the pavement. “And I meant it, I’m running late for my dinner with Tony. He’s taking me to my favorite restaurant to celebrate the contract with Pym Technologies.”

“Wow. I never would have expected Tony to slum it all the way to the Mission District,” Natasha snorted.

“What? No, I’m in SoMa right now. We’re going to Omakase,” Marianne said, jumping back when a bicyclist zoomed past her, nearly knocking her into a dirty puddle.

“Oh…”

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that I have a distinct memory of you saying you’d rather lick an L.A. sidewalk than eat raw fish, but I have seen you scarf down more burritos from Taqueria Cancun than I can count.”

Marianne bristled at the comment; she always did this. “My tastes are allowed to change Nat,” she bit back, seeing the sign for the sushi restaurant her and Tony frequented in sight.

Natasha was quiet for a moment on the other end of the line before she responded, “Yea, yea, you’re right. I’m sorry. Well, have fun at dinner and tell Tony I say congratulation.”

Sighing, Marianne immediately felt guilty for the harsh way in which she spoke, “Thanks Nat, I’ll tell him. And don’t worry, I’ve got the episode queued up first on Tony’s TiVo. I’ll watch it tonight and then I’ll call you tomorrow and we can gab all about why Serena needs to pull her head out.”

The comment earned Marianne a small laugh from Natasha, alleviating some of her guilt, “I’m holding you to that. Talk to you later hun, love you.”

“Love you too.”

Marianne closed her phone just as she was approaching the front doors to Omakase. Throwing her phone back into her purse she pushed the glass door open, knowing that Tony was probably already waiting for her at their favorite table. The first thing she noticed upon entering the restaurant was the distinct lack of the normal bustling sounds of other people, the second thing was the presence of orchestral music, and the third were roses. Hundreds and hundreds of red roses. Stacked on every available surface, the flowers littered the restaurant in large arrangements placed in beautiful crystal vases.

Silently, her heeled feet padded across the rose petal covered floor as she tentatively stepped further into the building, wondering for a just a second if she was in the right place. However, as she rounded the corner to see Tony dressed impeccably, string quartet situation behind him as he stood next to the only table in the dining room, she knew this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

“Tony…” she approached him cautiously, unable to stop from looking around the room and all its grandeur.

“There she is. For a second, I thought you found something better to do,” joked Tony, closing the distance between them and kissing her lightly on the lips.

“Sorry, I got out of class a bit late and then Nat called. What’s going on?” Marianne asked, still unsure what the big romantic gesture was for.

“What? A man can’t treat his girlfriend to a romantic night?”

“Well yes, but I thought we were celebrating your deal.”

“Well, I mean that’s part of it, but we’ll get to that later. Here, why don’t you set your things down? I have something I want to ask you.” Tony slipped Marianne’s purse from her shoulder and placed it gently down onto her chair before turning to her and taking both of her hands in his. “So, a little precursor, I closed the deal with Pym Technologies.”

“Oh my god, Tony that’s amazing! I knew you were going to get it,” Marianne exclaimed, smiling widely at her boyfriend. She moved in to give him a congratulatory hug, but Tony stopped her, holding her away from him at arm’s length.

“Oh, hold on, let’s not celebrate too soon. At least let me finish my little speech and then we can jump up and down like teenage girls,” responded Tony. His tone, while its usual joking manner, held a tense and clipped edge to it that Marianne didn’t hear often. Nervously she shifted her weight, wondering what he could possibly have to ask her. Then slowly things started to click into place. Secluded restaurant. Red roses. String quartet. Tony’s favorite red wine on the table. Big important question. Oh.

“Well, once this deal goes through, I’m going to be spending a lot of time traveling internationally. Things are going to pick up at Stark Industries and I realized that life is about to get a lot more hectic and messier. Then of course, this brought on a whirlwind of existential questions about life and its meaning and purpose and what I really want out of it and…and I’m rambling aren’t I?”

“Yea, just a bit,” Marianne answered with a small smile.

“I had a point—”

“Did you?”

“I did—” Tony released his hold on her hands to dig into the pocket of his suit pants “—and I think it sounded a bit like this.” Marianne gasped lightly as Tony dropped to one knee. “Basically, to make a long, drawn-out story short, I realized that no matter how messy and crazy the future scenarios of my life, one thing remained a constant. You. You by my side as my wife. So…” Producing a small, black box from within his hands, he opened it slowly to reveal a large, sparkling engagement ring. “Would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Marianne stood speechless for a moment, consumed by the surprise turn of events. For a second the musing thought that she would have definitely forgone splatter paint today if she had known she was getting proposed to, flashed through her mind before she nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, yes I will marry you.”

That’s how one month later Marianne found herself entering Natasha’s apartment, arms completely stuffed with nothing but wedding magazines, samples, and binders. Dropping her things into a large pile on the carpet of Natasha’s living room floor, Marianne breathed in deep before turning her attention to an open portfolio on the coffee table. The bright splashes of reds and blues of oversized poppies amidst a large, open sky caught her attention, drawing her in.

“Hey Nat, are you looking to take in a new collection at the gallery?” she called towards the kitchen, unable to pull her eyes away from the beautiful and almost impressionistic take on the flowers.

“Yea, one of my boss’s associates is crazy about these giant oil paintings of poppies. He wants us to consider doing a whole show of them. We’re equally as enthusiastic, but I guess the artist is hesitant about selling their work,” answered Natasha from across the apartment.

“Don’t most artists want to sell their art?”

“You’d think, but judging from the California poppies, they’re probably some west coast artist that doesn’t want to ‘sell out’ and ruin the integrity of their work.” Marianne could almost hear Natasha rolling her eyes through the walls.

Staring even harder at the small collection of paintings as she flipped through the portfolio, Marianne asked, “Are you sure they’re California poppies?”

Just as she asked the question, Natasha came around the corner, two large glasses of prosecco in hand. “Of course. We’re in California. They’re poppies. California poppies,” Natasha shrugged, placing the glasses on the coffee table.

“Yea, I guess you’re right,” Marianne said, sharply closing the portfolio and shaking off the strange sense of melancholy that the paintings evoked.

“Jesus, when you said you wanted to come over and talk about wedding stuff while we watched Gossip Girl, I thought you meant something like looking at a couple of magazines, not planning the whole thing in one night!” Natasha said, eyes growing wide as she took in the sheer amount of materials Marianne had arrived with.

“Yea, well that’s pretty much all the time I actually have to plan this thing. Tony wants to get married soon so that we can go on our honeymoon before he has to start traveling for work. Once things pick up, we’re not really sure when he’ll get another free moment,” sighed Marianne, sitting down on the floor and beginning to organize her mess.

“I’m surprised he’s letting you plan this and it’s not him making all the decisions,” remarked Natasha, sitting down across from her, and picking up a magazine.

“What do you mean?” asked Marianne, looking up quizzically at her best friend.

“Well…” began Natasha, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “I just mean that Tony tends to have a habit of making decisions for you.”

“What? No, he doesn’t,” Marianne scoffed.

“Uhuh…okay. Well then, who decided shortly after meeting you that your car, your first car, your baby, wasn’t good enough and that you needed a new one?” Natasha asked challengingly.

“It was old Natasha. People get new cars every day. Tony was just kind enough to buy me a new one,” Marianne reasoned with her, picking up her glass of prosecco from the coffee table.

“Okay, what about your job? You were working at that cute little public, elementary school that you always said you loved so much. Next thing I know, you’ve got this new job at a private middle school.”

“Tony had some connections and there’s nothing wrong with moving up in your career. I’m pretty sure that’s the whole point of a career, Nat.”

“Your apartment then? A week after he saw your apartment for the first time, he insisted that you move in with him.”

“That apartment was a rat-infested shit-hole and you know it. Things were going well, and he had the space. I took a leap of faith and moved in with him. I think it went alright considering the fact that I’m marrying the man. Just- what are you getting at Nat?”

“I guess I’m just worried that these major life decisions aren’t what you want, but instead what Tony wants. I mean, you’ve been together barely a year and already you’re more like him than you are you. You dress posher, you act posher, your accent’s fading…I want you to be happy Marianne, but I don’t want you to lose yourself along the way,” Natasha ended her small rant by taking a large gulp of her drink.

Marianne placed a hand on her friends arm reassuringly, “Hey. It’s alright. I’m happy, I promise. And it’s still me! I’m still the same Marianne Barnes you met in art school – just a little fancier is all.” She laid her southern accent on thick near the end of her sentence, lifting up her left hand to waggle the large engagement ring in her friend’s face. Natasha laughed, knocking her hand out of the way, and rolling her eyes at Marianne’s blatant bragging.

“Shut up, now let’s work on your guest list and invitations first while we let the drama of Manhattan’s Upper East Side consume us,” said Natasha, exchanging the magazine for a binder as she turned her TV on with the press of a button.

Taglist:

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

@caffiend-queen

@grincheveryday

#RomComWC #RCWC #steve x ofc #au!steve #cowboy!steve #steve rogers #sweet home alabama #romantic comedy #fanfiction #fanfic #tony stark x ofc #enemies to lovers

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peter-parkers-passport · 4 years

Text

Flower Child (Peter Parker x ofc)

Chapter 8: A Valid Fear of Elevators

warnings: scenes of peril, depictions of panic, near-death involving elevators (always fun), mentions of blood

The rest of the decathlon group had raced inside, ready to reach the top of the tallest structure in D.C., whereas Michelle, Lila, and Mr. Harrington remained outside to gawk at the structure. It wasn’t like they’d seen taller, they lived in New York, but it was different to see something so tall sit so isolated. But Michelle wasn’t really gawking, she was sizing up the structure, feeling something else entirely than the typical wonder.

“Taking it all in, Michelle?” Mr. Harrington asked, looking between her and the monument.

Michelle, who already had her book out, ready to read, regarded her teacher. “Oh, yeah, I just - um - I don’t really want to celebrate something that was built by slaves.”

“Oh, I’m sure the Washington Monument wasn’t built by…” Mr. Harrington trailed off, making eye contact with a guard, who looked at him as if to say Yes, it was indeed built by slaves. Mr. Harrington cleared his throat awkwardly and fiddled with his jacket. “Okay. Enjoy your book.”

“Thanks,” Michelle said, turning back to Lila to share a laugh with her. The two of them headed over to a bench when MJ spoke again. “Lila, I know you want to go to the top.”

Lila tilted her head to the side, “It’s okay, MJ, I-”

“I know you’re dying to see it ever since you found out Eliza Hamilton helped with it.”

Lila winced, shrugging apologetically. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”

With a straight face, Michelle replied, “I just want you to take a moment to think about who you just said that to.”

“MJ-”

“Go, Lila, I’ll be okay.”

Lila relented, heading towards the doors. She turned around, still walking, and shouted to Michelle, “I’ll be sure to hate it a little extra for you.”

*****

It was like Ned suddenly forgot how to use his phone, or so Peter felt. He wasn’t answering at all, despite the multiple attempts to call him and warn him of what would happen if the alien technology got anywhere near radiation. With every ring sounding in his ear, Peter grew more desperate. Abandoning hope that Ned would ever answer the phone, he dialed the number of the girl who, in the span of a week, managed to squeeze herself into the role of a friend.

*****

Lila was one of the last in the security check-in, frequently looking back to see if a certain boy would suddenly come bursting through the doors and join their group. She was still beyond worried sick, despite the rest of the team being relatively angry with him for missing the competition. Well, all except for Flash, that is, who was holding on to the trophy with a smug look on his face, waiting to rub it in Peter’s face just how much trouble he was in.

Suddenly, Lila’s phone began to ring in her back pocket, making the girl jump and come back from her train of thought. She simply assumed the caller would be her dad and was baffled to hear Peter’s voice instead. “Lila?”

“Peter?” She blinked, shocked to hear his voice, and worried at the frantic tone. “Wh-what’s going on, are you okay?”

“No, no I’m not okay. Where’s Ned, where are you right now?”

“What do you mean, we’re - we’re at the Washington Monument where you’re supposed to be,” Lila huffed indignantly. She should’ve cooled it on the anger quickly seeping through her tone, but hearing Peter on the other end of the call, completely fine, left her too upset to care. “You missed the entire decathlon, Peter. What the hell happened? I thought you said you - you were coming back-”

“I’ll explain everything just tell me where Ned is!”

The security line moved forward, and Lila looked up in time to see Ned on the other side of the metal detector, shouldering his backpack and waiting for the rest of the group. He looked just as anxious as she felt, and that sent another wave of anger to the surface. “He just made it past security, I’m-”

“No, no, no, no, no, Lila, listen to me. You have to get everybody out of the-”

Suddenly, the phone was torn from her grasp as Liz Allen, who was behind her, took her phone and placed it on her ear. “Peter, is that you?” She awaited his response, before pursing her lips and sending an apologetic look Lila’s way. “You flake! You are so lucky we won.” Her attitude extending past her words and into her body language, Liz put her free hand on her hip. Both she and Lila were pushed forward, the latter being moved through the metal detector. But Liz was still loud enough that she could hear her. “You know, I want to be mad at you, but I’m more worried. Like, what is going on with you?”

“Miss,” Came the security guard, interrupting Liz’s conversation on the phone. “All items on the belt, please.” Liz complied, not even waiting for Peter’s response. She hurried through the metal detector and straight over to Lila.

“Sorry, Lila,” She said, then blowing out a puff of air. “I just - we worked so hard and that was completely uncool of Peter to skip out on it. Especially because you were an alternate today, too. And you were obviously uncomfortable, and just - ugh - that’s not what teammates do!”

As the two girls collected their things and headed for the elevator, Lila’s respect for Liz shot through the roof. Not that she thought Liz was ever rude or anything but an amazing person before, but Lila knew that some kindness was deeper than just surface-level, and that was hard to find in people, let alone high-schoolers. She sighed. “W-we still won. You made - you made sure that everyone w-was ready for today, even when we didn’t want to be. That’s what makes you such a - a good captain.”

Liz glanced at her sideways, smiling. “We did a great job today.”

As they stepped onto the elevator, Mr. Harrison made sure that we were all together with the tour guide, before signaling it was okay to ascend. As the doors were closing, Lila heard Flash ask, “Mr. Harrington, can I be the one to tell Peter he’s expelled?” The elevator jolted before slowly climbing upwards.

Lila stood slightly behind Ned, glancing around the elevator, and listening to the tour guide as she began her spiel on the history of the monument. On any other day, she would have loved to hear about the history, which fascinated her, but her mind was still stuck on Peter. The medal sat heavily around her neck, a hard-earned victory, and the first person she wanted to celebrate with wasn’t present. He was missing. Again. Her anxiety kept launching her thoughts into why he had skipped, why he had come all this way to not even attend. Then, she looked over at Ned, Peter’s best friend, and her anger came back even stronger.

Lila wondered what kind of friend Peter really must be if he left Ned hanging like he did. Ned was left to take the heat of Peter’s absence, something he really didn’t deserve because he’d followed the rules and stayed put. Looking at him, Lila started to turn her anger inwards on herself, berating herself for not fighting Peter harder on coming to the damn pool. This whole situation could have been resolved if she’d managed to actually deny Peter his request of not telling anyone he was leaving. And her anger finally circled back to Peter Parker.

Lila nudged Ned gently, and he looked behind him to her. Smiling softly, he leaned closer to hear what she had to say. “I’m - I’m sorry about Peter, Ned,” She whispered. It wasn’t like she took it upon herself to constantly apologize for Peter’s behavior, but she figured that Ned deserved some form of apology. And he was more likely to get it from her than he was from the boy who should’ve actually said something to him.

“O-oh, don’t - don’t worry about it, Lila,” Ned whispered back, anxiety still peeking through his casual demeanor. The tour guide was speaking loud enough that their whispers didn’t carry through the entire elevator, and the poor lady looked so utterly bored, that if she did see Ned and Lila talking, she didn’t seem to care. “I’m sure Peter’s gonna be fine.”

“It’s not Peter that I’m worried about,” The girl hissed, and Ned looked at her in surprise. He’d looked as though he’d never seen much negative emotion come from her before. And maybe he hadn’t, but Lila didn’t really care. “You shouldn’t have had to take all the blame for him today.” Her eyes flickered over to Mr. Harrington on the other side of Ned when she froze.

Ned started to respond, “Lila, it was really important-”

“Ned,” She muttered, eyes widening in confusion. “Your backpack’s glowing.”

The camouflage backpack was completely inconspicuous save for the purple light burning a hole through the top of it. In the blink of an eye, it shot up through the ceiling and cast the elevator in a purple glow. Had Lila’s mind been able to keep up with the sequence of events, she might’ve thought that the glow was eerily similar to that of the light which burst through Mr. Delmar’s shop, or the light which robbed her of her mother. But another second passed, and soon the elevator came shuddering to a violent stop, rocking everyone back and forth. By the time everyone could catch up with the now perilous situation, the elevator ceiling was smoldering with a giant orange ring. The rest of the compartment was slowly filling with a bit of smoke. Only Lila seemed to notice Ned shrug off his backpack and throw it to the ground like it too was on fire.

“Oh, my god, look at the ceiling,” Flash stated, pointing out what truly was obvious. Not that anyone could blame him, it was a little difficult to look at anything else. What was going to happen when that thing finally gave…?

Liz was not messing around. “Just stay calm everyone.” Her natural leadership skills were still in effect, and Lila tried to remember to say something to her about how amazing she was at keeping morale up, even in mortal peril.

Unfortunately, Abraham was not able to heed to that advice. “Oh, we’re all going to die here,” He said, sweat starting to shine on his forehead.

“We’re freaking screwed,” Charles added, peeking up through one of the windows to see how far it was to the top.

The tour guide, in a miraculously monotone voice, reassured them, “Okay, I know that was scary, but our safety systems are working.” No one knew that just outside the monument, a certain AI was saying the exact opposite. “We’re very safe here.” As soon as she said that, the very distinct sound of an elevator cable snapping was heard, sending the teenagers in the compartment into deeper of a terror.

The guide, who Lila hoped had been trained for a situation like this, asked for a leg-up from Mr. Harrington, who happily obliged as she moved over to the elevator hatch. She opened the hatch and climbed to the top. Looking through the small opening, Lila could see shattered glass everywhere, along with the elevator doors to the room that sat at the very top of the monument. She also saw security prying open the doors to help everyone stuck on the elevator. But the view of safety was cut off by a hand jutting back into the elevator, grabbing for the first person available. Fortunately, that person was Cindy, and she happily grabbed on.

Cindy’s body was halfway through the hatch when another elevator cable snapped, sending everyone into a tizzy. Part of Lila wondered if that much movement could be good for their situation, but a lot of her brainpower was spent watching everyone hurry for the hatch. It was then that certain memories came to the surface for Lila, and she found herself actually shrinking into the far corner, trying her best to not breakdown.

The security guard was pulled up by the other guards at the top to ease some of the weight off the elevator. Then Abraham, Charles, and Sally were the next to leave, all doing their best to avoid the shards of glass that had fallen through. Mr. Harrington was doing his best to give kids a leg-up if they needed it, and add words of encouragement to everyone who left the elevator. He gestured over to Liz, who was headed his way when Flash shoved her aside and into the corner Lila was hiding in. “It’s my turn!” He cried, still carrying the trophy.

Liz looked back to see Lila, still frozen and turned back to Flash. “Just - forget about the trophy!” But to no avail, for Flash was shoving the trophy through before himself. He was also rather careless on the top of the elevator, jostling the entire compartment as he scurried to safety. “Take my trophy!” He yelled, forcing one of the security guards to comply while the other helped lift him up. When his foot left the top of the hatch, all hell broke loose.

Lila’s grip on the rails that lined the walls of the compartment slackened as she watched the ceiling separate from the rest of the elevator, and then her eyes involuntarily shut. Her mind focused on her mother, and how she used to smile at Lila. How her soft, blue eyes always reassured her that everything was going to be okay. For a split-second, as the screams increased, and her hair started to rise upwards as the elevator plummeted, Lila thought she might get to see those eyes again. Some part of her was already making peace with leaving and seeing her mom once more until she was knocked to the ground due to the elevator suddenly stopping. That was when Lila’s eyes flew open, and she was thrust once more into the terrifying reality of her situation.

The loud crash of the doors to the top floor escaping their hinges sounded, and the elevator landed on one of the structural support beams at an awkward angle. Suddenly, Liz, Ned, Mr. Harrington, and Lila were joined by a fifth person, clad in red and blue spandex. As if the universe were trying to top itself, Spider-Man fell through the hole in the ceiling and slammed into the floor next to Lila. The pair made a brief, wide-eyed exchange at seeing each other again before the elevator jolted back into motion, sending them hurtling down several more stories. Spider-Man was quick to work, shooting a web right up through the empty ceiling and onto something Lila couldn’t see. Suddenly, he was lifted off the ground and landed upside-down on the remnants of the elevator ceiling.

Awkwardly looking around at the four petrified people, Spider-Man nods, pulling up the elevator casually, like he was merely pulling a scarf out of a fake magic hat. “Hey, how you doin’?” His voice was gravelly, and the Queens accent was too heavy. Nothing about his voice was right and didn’t sound like the voice that saved her life just days before. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Liz and Mr. Harrington helped Lila stand back up on her feet, the former trying to rid her of the glass decorating her yellow decathlon jacket. Ned, on the other hand, had his eyes glued to Spider-Man, face breaking out into a delighted grin. “Yes!” He cried out in relief. “Yes!” His celebration moved past the verbal and into the physical, shifting the elevator ever-so-slightly.

“Hey, hey, hey, big guy, quit moving around!” Spider-Man’s voice lost all rasp, and jumped an octave, revealing his age to be closer to Lila’s than maybe he’d’ve liked to admit. It would’ve been humorous had they not been in their present situation, and Ned was quick to apologize. The elevator grew quiet, save for the grunts of Spider-Man as he continued to single-handedly pull the elevator up to safety.

Everyone remained relatively still, for the most part, staring up as their means of escape grew closer and closer. Everyone save for Lila, who shrank in on herself even further. She hissed lowly, realizing that when she’d fallen down, she’d smacked her head against some broken glass. It decided to make its presence known then, and Lila brought a hand to her temple. She drew her fingers back into her line of sight and noticed the red staining the tips of her fingertips. She ignored it, wiping the blood on her jeans.

Lila watched from the back of the elevator as the doors finally aligned well enough that they could be opened by the security guards on the outside. Still hesitant to move, the people on solid ground started ushering them forward. “Alright, this is your stop,” Lila heard from above, and Mr. Harrington urged everyone to safety. Ned made it first through the doors, as he was the closest, then came Lila’s teacher, who immediately reached back for the two girls remaining in the compartment.

Lila began pushing Liz forward, who in turn grabbed onto Lila’s sleeve. “Okay, Lila, you’re next.”

It was as if her shoes turned to lead, and Lila stared up at Liz disbelievingly. She wasn’t entirely sure how it was possible for her mood to change so drastically, but she blamed it on the danger she was still in. “No,” She muttered firmly. And for once, Lila didn’t feel like stuttering.

Liz looked at her in surprise and disbelief, “Lila, it’s not the time to argue-”

“I’m not arguing,” Lila said, her voice echoing around the elevator. Her tone was sharp and clear, not at all the soft and gentle one she usually adopted. “You’re going first. Because I am not watching somebody else die. I won’t do that again.” She didn’t even notice the superhero above her cock his head in confusion. With surprising strength, Lila hurled Liz forward into the arms of Mr. Harrington and the security guards. Together, they pulled her through and into the building. Even Lila had the satisfaction of seeing her be safe before fate played its last hand. Spider-Man’s constant words of encouragement ceased, and the ceiling he rested on finally gave, separating him from the elevator, and sending Lila plummeting once again.

“Lila!” Her name being yelled by Spider-Man sent her looking up as gravity took its hold. As a quick last resort, she jumped, trying to use the momentum to her advantage. If it were not for the fact that she was about to die, Lila might have thought the image of the elevator falling around her suspended state had actually looked cool, but then again, she felt she was likely to follow it. Her hand thrust out as far as she was able, she reached for him, fingers close to touching his hand before she began to free-fall. She couldn’t help it: she finally let out a petrified scream. She continued screaming even after she felt the web-like substance encompass her wrist. She only stopped when her arm was yanked, ceasing her fall as she dangled in the elevator shaft at the top of the Washington Monument. Her ribs ached from the sudden stop, and she let out a sound of disbelief mingled with pain, trying her best to find the air that had left her lungs. Staring up, she saw Spider-Man’s eyes on hers. “You’re okay,” He reassured her, voice soft and comforting, and strangest of all, familiar. “You’re okay.”

He pulled her up by the webbing, and the entire time Lila worried it somehow would drop her again. It wasn’t until her hand was in his that she felt safe at last. Still displaying great strength, he lifted her up by one hand until she was directly in front of the doors, where Liz and Mr. Harrington were quick to wrap their arms around Lila’s waist. She felt her fingers drag across Spider-Man’s and the feeling of safety remained as she felt her feet hit solid ground. Eyes still locked on Lila, Spider-Man with the heavy Queens accent returned. “So - uh - is everybody okay?” She couldn’t help but feel like he meant if she was okay, so Lila nodded minutely.

A million thoughts raced through her brain, but none came to any sort of fruition as the webbing Spider-Man was attached to suddenly snapped, sending the hero down the monument. He disappeared through the smoke that was leftover from the elevator, and Mr. Harrington sent down with him a meek thank-you. Flash Thompson, however, was apparently on a one-track mindset, and leaned over the edge, screaming, “Are you really friends with Peter Parker?”

At such a normal sentiment, the adrenaline seemed to leave Lila’s body, and she felt her knees buckle. She wasn’t ashamed of the tears falling down her face silently, and her friends stood around her in silence, all wrapping their arms around her in solidarity. She clung on to her teacher, who began to guide her down the stairwell. The security guards escorted everyone up top down the monument, though it took a lot of persuasions to get the kids trapped in a plummeting elevator to head back down so soon. Lila was practically swarmed by her teammates, all taking turns to murmur encouragement to get her down the stairs, despite her protests that she was perfectly alright. About halfway down, she gave up, realizing that it was okay for her friends to worry about her.

And when sunlight finally hit her face again, and she was outside of the monument, one friend stood out in particular. Michelle Jones sprinted through the security perimeter and right up to Lila, clutching onto her shoulders tightly, almost like she was scared to let her go. The shock had started to settle in, and Lila’s hearing started to dip out on her, and she missed Liz filling MJ in on what exactly went down. Michelle’s usual façade of a stoic, uncaring person fractured, worry stretched across her eyes, and her lips set in a tight line. As a paramedic rushed over, asking if anyone was injured, Lila was soon shuffled into his care, someone asking the medic to tend to her head injury as well as her shock. She felt a blanket go over her shoulders, and she gave a small smile to Michelle. Trying to comfort her friend through the tears threatening to surface again, Lila said hoarsely, “I guess you were right about not celebrating things built by slaves.”

*****

Much of that afternoon was a blur, save for the quick phone call to her dad and the packing of her things in the hotel room. Lila dusted the rest of the broken glass off of her jacket and changed into some joggers and a sweatshirt. Her hair was thrown up into a messy ponytail, and her competition clothes were stuffed in her duffel bag. She hadn’t said a word to anyone else around her, her mind consumed with thoughts of the afternoon’s events. She was relieved to hear that Mr. Harrington decided to take everyone home immediately, not wanting to extend any trauma any further.

For the near four-hour bus ride back to New York, Lila picked a seat away from everyone else, tucked her legs under her, and stared out the window. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t even notice Peter Parker send her numerous glances from several rows up. Although if she had, she probably would’ve assumed it had something to do with how she looked. Once the blood had cleared away, a long scratch traced her hairline and stood dark against her gaunt pallor. Her eyes were red from holding back tears, and her lips were swollen from gnawing on them so frequently. She was a sight, and she was somewhere else entirely.

It was as the sun was beginning to set that Lila really felt the shame settle in, coupled with the guilt. How selfish was she, in those moments, to think only of her mother? Her mother, who she thought she was going to join. She didn’t even think of her dad until she was safe and alive. Her death would have utterly devastated him, and he’d be left with nothing. She didn’t even think of Sophie, who she’d never have seen graduate, or help her with her podcast like she’d always wanted. There was so much more waiting for her in life compared to only her mother in death, and that was a difficult thing to come to grips with. Her mother had been her everything for so long, that Lila didn’t realize until she was almost dead that she’d been given so much more than she could have possibly needed.

It was only when the familiar skyline came into view that Lila took her gaze off the window and into the bus. Students were getting antsy, calling their parents and saying they were back in town, and Lila’s gaze fell on Peter Parker. He was almost difficult to see in the night with his navy hoodie, but she always could tell where he was. She glanced over to Ned, who was sitting backpack-less next to Peter, and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The entire ordeal started with his backpack glowing and made Lila’s line of thinking change drastically. Her eyes flickered back to Peter, and found that he was staring right back at her. Cheeks blushing slightly, she broke eye contact with a sigh. Her mind was moving a mile a minute when what she needed most was to focus on how close she was to seeing her dad. The thought of her dad relieved her, but she didn’t feel quite ready to let go of that nagging train of thought in the back of her head. So she took a pencil out of her backpack and a sticky note and jotted something down.

*****

Peter kept an eye out for all of his friends. He felt satisfied every time someone’s family reunited with them, the sounds of relief filling all the voices around him. His eyes landed on the girl a few feet away from him, holding her father up as he burst into tears at the sight of her. Peter felt his stomach twist staring at Lila’s dad that way, remembering once more just how much the Landry family had truly lost. He kept going back to that moment: Lila literally slipping through his fingers as she began to fall. The look of horror on her face would be one etched into his mind forever, and he felt relieved that he could safely bring Ted Landry’s daughter back to him.

“Peter?” He heard May before he saw her, and barely had enough time to register her coming for him before he reached out and wrapped his arms around her. She held him protectively, threatening to squeeze him practically to death. May finally relinquished her grip, holding Peter at arms length and fawning over him, reassuring herself that nothing was wrong with him.

She’d been going off on the story of how she’d heard what happened when someone behind her cleared their throat. She whirled around at break-neck speed (nearly hitting Peter with her long hair) and revealed to Peter that Lila was the culprit. His throat dried seeing her still pale face with tear streaks reflecting in the light of the school parking lot they resided in and grew nervous despite knowing she was okay. May exclaimed happily that she was glad Lila was just fine, pulling her in for a hug as well. Lila merely smiled as her eyes kept flickering over to Peter. Taking the hint, May went over to console Mr. Landry, who was trying his best to collect himself.

Lila approached Peter hesitantly, unsure of what to really say. She had been there when the team collected him at the hotel, had been there when Mr. Harrington brushed off Peter’s disappearance in light of the rest of his students almost dying. She had been there, and she hadn’t, her green eyes dulled to the world due to shock. Yet as she stood in front of him, the light was slowly creeping back in, something that relieved Peter more than he initially thought it would. “Hi,” She said, practically whispering.

“Hi,” He said back, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. It didn’t take long to figure out, for Lila had stepped forward and looped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Peter was surprised, for he had never been this close to her before (as Peter Parker, anyway), but he was quick to reciprocate, arms tightening around her waist. He breathed in deeply, noticing the scent of her peppermint shampoo when he heard her mutter a soft apology. He pulled away suddenly, hands still lingering on her waist when he asked, “Did you just say sorry?”

Lila nodded, eyes flickering off of his face for a moment before looking back at him. “Yeah, I - um - I really value you as a friend, and I don’t - I don’t - ugh. I didn’t want to die today with the last words I said to you being something stupid and petty, but spiteful. A-and kind of mean. I just - I need you to know that seeing as how you’re one of like, three people that I talk to-” She laughed softly at herself, “- I really care about you.” She pulled Peter’s hands off of her waist, gripping his hands tightly before walking off. Peter was shocked to feel something remain in his hands as she gave May one last hug, walked back a few paces to grab Michelle by the hand, and hurried back to her father.

May headed back over to Peter, smiling softly as the two of them watched the Landry family and Michelle leave the school. She patted her nephew on the shoulder, saying softly, “That family’s had just the worst luck, lately. You think you can help me out by dropping something off to them later tonight?”

Peter nodded, “Of course.” His sight was still set on Lila’s retreating figure, the feeling of paper in his hand growing more prevalent by the minute.

May squeezed his shoulder softly. “Okay, I’m gonna go tell Mr. Harrington that we’re hitting the road. Wait here, sweetie.” He mumbled his agreement and heard May walk away from him. When he was sure she was far enough away, Peter opened his palm and found a folded up green sticky note. Opening it, he read Lila’s neat handwriting.

I have questions about you and what happened today.

Peter swallowed nervously, his heart beating faster at what exactly Lila Landry had potentially figured out.

#peter parker fic #peter parker #peter parker x ofc #spider-man #spider-man fic #spider-man x ofc #spider-man: homecoming #marvel x ofc #mine

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

Text

The American Initiative

Part Ten

Summary: Grace Cleveland and Eleanor Baker both thought their lives were over, until they became part of something much bigger – the Avengers. Pairing(s): Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC Word Count: 1897 Blanket Warnings: Death, mentioned a couple of different ways, but not detailed; canon divergence; more based on Marvel movies. In the infamous word of Steve Rogers, “Language.”

Masterlist Wanna be tagged?

Without Grace to keep her busy in her downtime, Ellie had more time to think – about a lot of things. She found out more about herself in the first couple of days that Grace was gone than she had in a while. Furthermore, she discovered that she wasn’t the kind of person to bottle up her feelings; she could be in control and not let on to them, but she wasn’t going to hide them from herself, either.

This realization prompted her to cautiously broach the subject of relationships with Steve.

“I don’t mean to make things awkward, for either of us,” Ellie assured, “I just — I’m trying to figure out how to handle it now, I suppose.”

Steve nodded. “That’s perfectly understandable, Elle. Even if you remembered things from before, being an Avenger is a whole new can of worms.”

Ellie smiled at his analogy. “Something like that.”

“I don’t know much about relationships overall, to be honest. Before the injections, I was a scrawny Brooklyn kid with asthma and zero allure. After the injections, there was Captain America — but there was also a woman. Her name was Peggy; she was part of the initiative, I suppose. Smart and tough and kind – not a lot unlike you, actually. She had faith in me when no one else did. I suppose there was something between us, but then I had to put that airplane in the ice and everything else happened …”

Steve trailed off, a nostalgic sheen glazing his eyes. Ellie bit her lip and looked away, giving him a moment of privacy with his memories.

“Did you ever think about finding her, you know, when you woke up?”

Returning from his trip down memory lane, Steve chuckled, albeit sadly. “I thought about it, sure, but life went on without me, Elle. Peggy would be an old woman by now.”

“Oh, right …”

The two of them had lingered in silence for a few moments after that, before Ellie showed him some mercy and changed the subject. The thought occurred to her that, old woman or not, Steve was still in love with this Peggy woman – perhaps he would always be. For that reason, though she had accepted her feelings, Ellie decided it was best to keep them to herself.

Grace shouldered the one bag she had with her, pulled the hood of her jacket up over her head, and walked down the streets of Boston towards the last place she had known Joel to live. Thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D intel, she knew he wasn’t there anymore, but she figured it looked less conspicuous if she didn’t go to a place Joel assumed she didn’t know about.

Taking a deep breath, Grace hurried up the steps of the apartment complex, heading straight for the place she had called home, for a while. Another deep breath before knocking, and then there was no turning back.

A familiar man opened the door. “Gracie?”

“Heya, Frank. I’m lookin’ for Joel.”

Frank smiled and hugged her tight. “I told the ole boy you’d be back before we knew it. Joel don’t stay here anymore, though.”

Grace frowned. “Where’d he go?”

“C’mon in here,” Frank said, pulling her out of the hallway. “I’ll call him. He’s in hiding, ya know.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

She sat on the couch – the one she and Joel had picked out together for the apartment – dropped her bag on the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest. Frank spoke in a hushed voice in the kitchen not far away, and Grace could hear every word. When he disconnected the call, he came back around.

“Gimme ten minutes, Gracie. I’ll take you to Joel.”

Grace nodded, focusing on the TV while Frank went in the other room to change and get ready to leave. Her heart was racing, and she was hypervigilant of her situation. Though she knew how secure S.H.I.E.L.D was, there was part of her that feared he knew what she had been up to the last few months.

“All right, let’s go.”

Frank hit the power button on the remote; the cessation of sound broke Grace’s train of thought. She shouldered her bag again and followed her old friend out the door.

Amidst her routine of getting up to date with intel, a regular training schedule, and otherwise occupying herself, Ellie did her best not to think about her feelings for Steve. His heart was taken, that was clear. Ellie could only hope that, in time, her feelings would wane and she could move on.

She was sitting in a conference room on her own when Natasha came to meet her. Ellie smiled a greeting at the other woman and put her hand on the brown file folder in front of her.

“Thanks for meeting me. I think I’m about ready to do this, but I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“What is that?” Natasha inquired.

Ellie took a deep breath. “My entire life, up to the point that Fury came to claim me at the hospital. I haven’t looked at it before, and I only know a few things from what I’ve been told about how I came to be part of The American Initiative. Something someone said to me recently – I’ve been thinking about life after we’re gone. I’ve been wondering how my family is getting on, and who all is left. I want to know the things I don’t remember.”

Natasha pursed her lips together and picked at her nails. She re-directed her focus to Ellie, but couldn’t make herself ask the question.

“You think this is a bad idea?”

Natasha shook her head.. “No. Not if it’s something you feel the conviction to do, Ella. I just – are you going to be able to handle all of the things in this folder? You don’t know what’s in there, and – you make the decision for yourself, I’m here if you decide to go ahead. Sometimes though, I think it’s best to remember that the things left in the past, are left there for good reason.”

Natasha’s advice was good advice. Ellie took it all into consideration, and finally decided to open the file. The first page was all about her.

“I was a teacher,” Ellie smiled. “US history, for a high school.”

Natasha smiled, too, and continued to do so as Ellie went through all the things in her background. She listened as Ellie talked about her parents and her sister, about family pets she didn’t remember she ever had.

As Ellie came to the end of the section on her family, her jaw dropped and her eyes filled with tears. She shoved the file away and stood, fleeing the room and eventually the building.

Natasha pulled the file in front of her, her jaw going just as slack as Ellie’s had as she took in the information in front of her.

“This is some shady shit, Frankie,” Grace muttered as they walked down a concrete staircase. “What the hell is going on?”

Frank glanced at her, but said nothing before turning forward again. A single light bulb dangled from a wired fixture at the bottom of the staircase. Grace watched it swing back and forth a couple of times before Frank got the heavy door unlocked and motioned for her to enter.

Her jaw went slack as she entered the makeshift laboratory; it wasn’t entirely unlike the S.H.I.E.L.D lab where she had been enhanced. This place, however, lacked the technology to be up to par with the agency’s facilities.

“Gracie?”

The voice broke through the silence, causing Grace to turn and face the man she knew so well. He was bigger now, taller and more muscular — she wondered what else had changed about him.

“Joel,” she said, letting his name out on a breath of feigned relief.

He opened his arms and Grace dropped her bag, running to him. The couple embraced, and Joel lifted her face to his, kissing her roughly.

“I missed you — how did you get out?”

Grace swallowed hard. “They cleared me, put me in witness protection. I got the drop on my guards.”

“Always a runner,” Joel smirked, pushing the hood away from her. “Your hair got longer.”

“Yeah … Joel, what is all of this?” Grace gestured to the machines and computers around them.

He stepped away from her, took a deep breath, and sighed. “After I was dropped from the enhancement program, I couldn’t let it go. I found someone within the agency to sneak me the serum — I have to take it via IV, which is apparently changing the way the serum works. It’s better in some ways, but taking time in others. But — it’s happening. I’m becoming the man I was always meant to be.”

Grace smiled as she stepped up to him again. “I always said you had great potential.”

Joel chuckled and kissed her again. “C’mon, I’ll show you the rest of the place.”

As soon as Natasha showed him the file, Steve took off in a full run to find Ellie. A mix of emotions swelled in his chest; pride that she had the courage to open the file was churning with heartache at what she had just discovered she left behind.

He found her near the archery range. She was standing but with her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Steve slowed and reached out a hand to her shoulder.

“Ellie …”

Her head lifted and she sniffled as she turned to look at him. Stepping right up to him, Ellie bit her lip as she took Steve’s face in her hands and pressed her lips to his.

He knew he shouldn’t respond, but he couldn’t stop himself from returning the gesture. The saltiness of her tears combined with her own sweet taste; the scent of her invaded his nose. Steve never wanted to let her go.

Ellie was the first to pull away, stepping back and out of his reach. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just done that out of the blue. But, Steve, don’t you think that if I had a — a husband, who died in the same wreck I was in, and a little girl left behind, I should have felt some sort of guilt in kissing another man? It should have sparked something about my former life. But it doesn’t! I read this file of this person who has my name and my face but I don’t know her. It’s like — it’s like I ruined everything!”

She dissolved into sobs again, but this time, not alone. Steve stepped towards her again, pulling her against his chest and promising her that everything was going to be all right.

#TAImarathon #avengers #fanfiction #steve rogers #clint barton #ofc #steve rogers x ofc #captain america x ofc #clint barton x ofc #hawkeye x ofc #queue ... assemble

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cheshiresense · 5 years

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Hey, speaking of the Aizen/Ichigo time travel notfic, I just want to say I really love the way y ou write Aizen when he isn't just the villain. Like I don't even know why Im surprised, it's /you/, your characterization is always amazing. Do you think you can write a few more snippets or hcs with him and Ichigo? Maybe some interactions or convesations between them? No pressure ofc, thank you for everything youv'e already blessed us with!

Lol thank you! That’s good to hear, I always find flat characters painful to read so I do my best to round them out whenever I can. Aizen was a new one for me, this is the first time I’ve explored his character beyond - as you say - just the villain of the story that’s been defeated or needs defeating.

Here’s two more short scenes in this ’verse. I actually really like this AU, which surprises me because before this, I didn’t have any interest in writing Aizen at all.

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[Dinner]

Sousuke generously reserves a table for two at the sushi restaurant a block down from the Academy. He only has to wait ten minutes before Ichigo slouches into the seat opposite his, looking like every student who’s ever pulled three all-nighters in a row rushing for exams.

Sousuke arches an eyebrow. “I did not think the course load you are taking would be difficult for you.”

Ichigo shoots a glare at him but doesn’t seem to have the energy to hold it for longer than a few seconds before he’s slumping again and reaching for the menu instead.

“The course load is fine,” Ichigo tells him irritably. “But one of my teachers used to be Thirteenth Division and has some stupid grudge against Kaien because Ukitake-san passed him over for lieutenant even though he had a longer tenure than Kaien or something. So he’s taking it out on me by giving me extra assignments out of the blue every week. Says I’ll fail his class if I don’t do them.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I kinda wanna call his bluff, but it’s whatever, I just wanna graduate as soon as possible, and I can deal with a case of asshole. It was just a little tougher lately cuz of midterms but today was my last one anyway.”

Sousuke studies him for a careful moment. “You could mention it to your cousin. I am sure Shiba Kaien would jump to your defense, especially when he is involved.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why I’m not gonna tell him,” Ichigo scowls. “He’ll go charging in and kick up a huge fuss and definitely go overboard defending my honour or some shit. He’ll probably get Hisakawa fired, which I don’t really care about, but he’ll also draw a crapload of attention, and I don’t want anybody tossing words like nepotism and favouritism around. You told me yourself the Twelfth doesn’t seem to have many big clan members, and it’s not exactly a shock that Kisuke chooses people for his Division according to their intelligence. I don’t want him thinking I’m coasting by on my clan’s reputation or something, and that’s exactly what will happen if I get Kaien to step in for me for every little thing.” He pointedly sticks his menu up between them. “Now can we order already? I literally haven’t eaten anything but instant ramen in a week. I’m getting everything here since you’re paying.”

“Oh I am, am I?” Sousuke enquires dryly.

“I’m poor, deal with it.”

“I am fairly certain your clan would shower you with money if you mention that you need it,” Sousuke points out. “And nobody else would even know if you are so concerned about reputation.”

Ichigo grimaces even as he glances around to catch the waiter’s eye. “Kaien’s already giving me a stipend every month cuz I’m family but I wanna save that for an apartment when I graduate. Besides, I don’t like asking people for money.”

Sousuke gives him a flatly droll look. “And yet.”

Ichigo meets his gaze without hesitation, a smirk curling at his lips, one that teeters between gruff amusement and a reckless sort of mockery. “Consider it payment for creeping on me when I was a kid and then dragging me into a war. You almost killed me multiple times; sushi’s the least you owe me, bastard.”

They pause for a minute to place their respective orders, and neither of them speaks until the waiter is out of earshot again.

“I wonder,” Sousuke murmurs, eyeing Ichigo thoughtfully. “If you blame Urahara Kisuke for ‘dragging you into a war’ as much as you blame me.”

Ichigo snaps his chopsticks and then jabs them at him. “Kisuke apologized. You didn’t.”

“And I never will,” Sousuke agrees, because he won’t, not with any kind of sincerity, and he’s noticed that Ichigo has a knack for picking out that sort of thing. Sousuke isn’t sorry. Perhaps his ambitions and plans gave the boy very little choice in the matter, but at the end of the day, it was still Kurosaki Ichigo who chose to fight instead of bow or run away, and Sousuke can respect him enough as a former formidable enemy to give credit where it’s due.

Ichigo made his choices, just as Sousuke made his own, and they’ll both live with them just the same, good and bad.

“No,” Ichigo acknowledges easily, and Sousuke knows no one else who can say that in this situation with no anger or bitterness, just a resigned sort of acceptance as if he made his peace with this truth a long time ago. Instead, he only points his chopsticks at Sousuke again. “But that’s why you have to pay for my sushi and Kisuke doesn’t.”

Sousuke watches him for a moment longer and idly wonders if he’ll ever understand the kind of person Kurosaki Ichigo is. One day, perhaps, but at least in the meantime, he won’t be bored.

He inclines his head just as the first of their dishes arrive.

“As you say,” He acquiesces, and Ichigo flashes a grin like he’s won something important. Oddly enough, it amuses Sousuke more than anything else. But there are worse things than amusement, and for now, he lets it be.

Well, he lets that be anyway. Ichigo is a… puzzle that Sousuke probably won’t tire of putting together for a good while yet, and that suits him just fine.

On the other hand…

He steps quietly into the classroom, shutting the door behind him. The click makes the man sitting behind the desk at the front look up. “Aizen-fukutaichou? This is… unexpected. Did we have a meeting I forgot about?”

Hisakawa’s confusion is understandable. As far as Sousuke can remember, in both timelines, he’s never spoken to the other Shinigami. Hisakawa was insignificant before - sub-par intellect and mediocre strength, not good for anything but canon fodder, which Aizen had plenty of Hollows for - and he’s just as insignificant now. It’s just that he’s also making a nuisance of himself this time around, which is unfortunate for him.

“Hisakawa-sensei,” Sousuke greets with a pleasant smile as he approaches. “We do not, as far as I am aware. I simply wished to speak to you about one of our mutual students.”

“Oh, well, of course,” Hisakawa frowns quizzically. “Which student are you talking about? Is it a schedule conflict? Those should’ve been ironed out months ago though.”

Sousuke supposes the man gets points for touching on the only problem a student attending both their classes could have. Hisakawa teaches history - a core class - while Sousuke only teaches calligraphy as an elective. They don’t have much else in common.

Then again, if schedule conflicts were ironed out months ago, it obviously can’t be that, and there’s no point bringing it up. Sousuke takes it back. Hisakawa is still just as much of a waste of space as Sousuke has always believed him to be. Honestly, the hiring standards these days. If this was Shiba Kaien’s competition for the lieutenant seat, no wonder Ukitake refused to fill the position with anyone else even if it meant waiting a decade for the Shiba Clan Head to accept.

“No, it is nothing of that sort,” Sousuke agrees. “But it has come to my attention that Shiba Ichigo-kun has been receiving quite a number of… extracurricular assignments from you.”

Hisakawa immediately bristles, and a sneer slashes itself across his face. “Oh, he’s been complaining, has he?”

“He has mentioned it to me,” Sousuke says mildly.

Hisakawa snorts. “I wasn’t aware Shibas even knew calligraphy existed,” He mutters snidely before saying, louder and more patronizing, “You shouldn’t listen to him, Aizen-fukutaichou. You know how Shibas can be, they’re always exaggerating. I’m not giving Shiba more work than he needs. His history marks could use some work, and I’m trying to help. I hear he wants to graduate in a year, and he can’t do that if he fails a core class.”

Sousuke hums a considering note. “He is in danger of failing? How strange. Shiba-kun takes after his cousin, does he not? Another prodigy.”

Hisakawa’s sneer only grows more pronounced. “They give that title to any clan kid these days, it doesn’t mean anything. Trust me, Shiba’s history marks alone will probably see him here next year, especially if he’s going around whining about not getting special treatment.”

Sousuke raises an eyebrow. “I admit, I am rather surprised by that. You see, I have read some of Shiba-kun’s history papers.” He hasn’t had much of a choice. For whatever reason, Ichigo likes working in his office, and he has the strangest tendency to paper his work all over the floor. And paperwork gets boring, and Ichigo’s thought process can be… interesting, even on the most mundane topics. “I am no expert on the subject of course, but from what I could tell, his work is always thoroughly researched and well-written. Perhaps you should take another look.”

Hisakawa’s face turns steadily red, and he pushes to his feet even as he accuses, “So you think just because he has a clan backing him, he should get special treatment too! I thought better of you, Aizen-fukutaichou.”

Sousuke has to suppress a chuckle but amusement slips into his expression anyway, because Hisakawa’s features darken to something downright hostile. “His marks will stay the same. In fact, I might fail him just on principle! I didn’t think Shiba was a coward too, sending another teacher to beg a better grade out of me just because he can’t handle my class.”

Sousuke stares him down for a long unblinking moment, until Hisakawa is almost twitching from the tension stretched between them. Only when the man opens his mouth again, no doubt to splutter out something belligerent, does Sousuke sigh and drop a hand to his Zanpakutou.

“Well, I did try,” He muses, mostly to himself.

He draws his blade. Hisakawa stares and doesn’t even make a move for his own Zanpakutou. What a fool.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Normally,” Sousuke explains courteously. “I would not bother stepping in on behalf of a student, especially when that student would - I dare say - be rather cross with me should he find out. But we have plans to carry out, and I will not allow something so trivial to hinder them.”

Hisakawa gawps at him. How unsightly.

“You need not worry,” Sousuke adds. “You will not remember a thing.”

Finally, Hisakawa reaches for his Zanpakutou, the first blush of alarm rising in his features. “Wait, have you gone insane, Aizen? What do you think attacking me is even going to do? I- I won’t be threatened-!”

“Shatter,” Sousuke cuts him off, smiling benignly even as his reiatsu swells around them. “Kyouka Suigetsu.”

And Hisakawa’s expression goes slack as the hynosis takes hold, slithering into the deepest recesses of his mind.

“You should be honoured,” Sousuke murmurs. “This will be some of my finest work. After all, anything less and Ichigo-kun might notice. And I would rather not be scolded again.”

(This Is A Time Skip But Also Does Tumblr Not Know How To Center Shit)

[Sight]

Sousuke glances up as a shadow passes through his window before returning to his paperwork. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

A disgruntled noise answers him. “Kis- Urahara-taichou is neck-deep in a new experiment; he’s not gonna notice I’m missing for days, never mind one afternoon.”

“And you decided to come visit me?” Sousuke can’t help but find that amusing, considering their past. “How thoughtful.”

He pauses when Ichigo doesn’t snipe something back, as is fairly standard these days. He looks up. Ichigo isn’t even looking in his direction. Instead, he’s still perched on the windowsill, and his gaze is slanted to one shadowed corner above the bookshelf across the room.

“…Ichigo-kun?”

Ichigo blinks, then turns to him and hops down into the office. “Hey, so, I figured it out,” He says abruptly. His eyes flit around the room again, and Sousuke notices the way they dart from shadow to shadow before finally focusing on him again. “The seeing into their little shadow world thing.”

Sousuke straightens. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo lifts a hand, and pale blue light sparks off his fingertips.

Sousuke stares. How fascinating. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen any other Quincy wield reishi so casually.

“I think I can make it so you can see them too,” Ichigo continues. “I’m gonna have to… fiddle with your eyesight a bit though.”

Sousuke pins him with an assessing look before slowly reaching up to take off his glasses. “If you end up blinding me, I will stab you before you make it out of this room.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, but I’m not gonna do that. Now hold still and close your eyes.”

It takes effort not to flinch, much to Sousuke’s irritation. But the grip he still has around his writing brush tightens anyway when cool fingers touch his eyelids.

It barely feels like anything. There’s a tingle that itches a little, but it’s there and gone within seconds, leaving only an odd chill behind, not unlike getting a cold gust of wind to the face during winter. Ichigo withdraws, and Sousuke opens his eyes.

Nothing looks different. He doesn’t actually need glasses to begin with so everything is clear. He cocks a questioning look at Ichigo, who shakes his head.

“Wait for it,” He murmurs, taking a seat on the edge of Sousuke’s desk and absently shuffling through the top file in the inbox. “They’re not always spying on everyone. But you’re a person of interest to them, you know that, so I think they check in on you pretty often.” He pauses, and his gaze slides across the room before he focuses on the file in his hands again. “Here he comes. Don’t let him see you watching him.”

Sousuke follows his brief line of sight, just in time to see a very familiar blond head bob into view in the shadow cast by the couch set against the wall. It isn’t a very big shadow, a foot high at most, so Sousuke only gets to see the face and part of his neck and a little of the high white collar of his uniform, but it’s enough.

The next second, he’s reaching for one of his books and flipping it open like that was why he looked up from his paperwork at all. But now that he can see that he’s being watched, can sense it even, and so blatantly too, the urge to simply get up and run the Quincy through for his gall is tempting. Only the knowledge that he can’t at the moment stays his hand.

Can he hear us? Sousuke scrawls on a spare piece of paper.

“No,” Ichigo mutters back. “I tested it. It’s like a soundproofed window. I mean, it is now.” He smirks triumphantly out of sight of the Quincy. “Before I figured it out, it was like one of those one-way mirrors. Now we can see them too. But we can’t hear them, and they can’t hear us. They might know how to lip-read though, so be careful anyway.”

Well, obviously. Giving the game away this early would be foolish.

Sousuke watches through his periphery as the Quincy gives them both a last cursory blank look before his head moves out of the shadow and disappears again.

“Jugram Haschwalth,” Sousuke murmurs, surveying his office before turning his attention to Ichigo. “And they can see through every shadow in Soul Society?”

“As far as I can tell, yeah,” Ichigo scowls darkly. “They’re a bunch of regular Peeping Toms.” He grins for a moment, all teeth. “You would’ve made great friends.”

Sousuke narrows a reprimanding look at him. Ichigo just grins wider, not at all repentant, but he doesn’t push further either.

“What should we do now?” He asks instead. “I’m still working on figuring out a way to get through, but at least we can see them. Do we just keep doing what we’re doing and try not to draw their attention?”

“Yes,” Sousuke decides. “But also, mark down who they look in on most, who they consider to be the biggest threats, and who they’ve overlooked but can be threats to them.” He puts his glasses back on. “How long will I be able to see them?”

Ichigo shrugs. “Eh, not sure. You’re my first guinea pig.” Sousuke sighs. At least Ichigo looks a little sheepish now. “We can do a few tests over the weekend or something when I don’t have work. I probably should get back now.”

“I thought you said Urahara wouldn’t notice,” Sousuke says sardonically.

“He won’t,” Ichigo confirms. “But Hiyori will. She’s yelling at the science department at the moment though, and that always takes at least an hour, so I figured I’d take the chance to come show you this-” He waves a hand in the direction of the shadow Jugram was in. “-since I finally got it down this morning.”

Sousuke glances lingeringly at him. You could have waited, he almost says, but the words don’t come in the end, and a moment later, Ichigo is halfway out the window again.

“Anyway, see ya later,” He calls back briskly. “I finally got my first paycheck yesterday so I bought groceries. If you want free dinner, swing ’round my place and I’ll feed you. And we can talk more about the Peeping Toms.”

And then he’s gone in a rush of Shunpo, leaving Sousuke to stare after him, feeling strangely wrong-footed.

But then, Ichigo has a habit of leaving him that way.

Sousuke sighs again, puts it out of his mind, and gets back to work, firmly ignoring the blond-haired spy that sidles back into his office via the shadow in one corner of the ceiling this time.

But he can’t wait until Ichigo figures out a way to get through. He’s chopping the head off of this one personally.

#bleach #myscrap #ichigo & aizen time travel verse #kurosaki ichigo #aizen sousuke #msg #anonymous #headcanon

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waywardnerd67 · 5 years

Text

A Balanced Life: Chap. 3 - Parent Teacher Conference

Summary: Working a case with Sam goes longer than expected making Dean miss conferences with Sammi’s teachers. One teacher insists on meeting with him no matter the location or time. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Sammi Winchester (OFC), Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Fluff/Slight Angst/AU Word Count: 2054 A/N: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Catch Up Here: A Balanced Life Masterlist

“Dad, you’re going to be back in time for parent, teacher conferences tonight, right?” Sammi asked over the phone as he was driving towards the haunted inn.

“Yes kiddo, we are going to salt and burn some bones then we will be back. Have a good day at school and please don’t punch anyone.” He said hearing her sigh.

“Love you dad.” She said.

Dean’s lips curled up into a wide smile, “Love you too, kiddo.” He hung up the phone just as they pulled up in front of the inn.

Eight hours, a few broken ribs and six spirits put to rest the Winchester brothers were on their way back to the Bunker. It was well past midnight when they arrived back and Sammi was asleep among her homework at one of the tables in the library. Castiel was also there with a scowl on his face.

“Cas, why didn’t you take her to her room?” Dean asked as he gathered his daughter into his arms as Sam cleaned up her homework.

“She wouldn’t let me because she was upset that you were not back for conferences.” Castiel’s voice was stern as Dean sighed deeply.

He carried Sammi to her room and as he was laying her down she stirred awake, “Dad?” she mumbled.

“Hey kiddo, go back to sleep.” He whispered pulling her blanket over her.

She pushed herself up rubbing her eyes, “You didn’t make it to conferences.” She said as he sat down on the edge of her bed.

“I’m so sorry Sammi. The ghost we were hunting turned out to be six. I really wanted to go and hear about how awesome my kid is.” He earned a small smile for her then her.

“Did you save a lot of people?” Dean nodded as she laid back down yawning, “Then that’s all that matters. See you in the morning, love you.”

Dean leaned over kissing her forehead, “Love you too, goodnight.”

The next morning was kind of a whirlwind getting Sammi up and ready for school. She was only a few minutes late which the school secretary assured him would be no big deal. He had just pulled into the Bunker’s garage when his cell started ringing.

“Hello?” he answered not recognizing the local number.

“Mr. Winchester, my name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I’m Sammi’s language arts teacher. Do you have a moment?” Sammi’s teacher said.

Dean got out of Baby and started walking towards the library, “Sure Mrs. (Y/L/N), what can I do for you?”

“It’s Miss and you can start by explaining why you missed parent, teacher conferences.” Dean was taken back by her tone.

“Well, unfortunately I had something come up at work that needed my attention. I know Sammi is a good student with good grades, so I didn’t think it was such a big deal.” He explained walking into the library where Sam and Castiel were sitting.

They both looked up at him with curious expressions. He sat down next to Sam and put his finger to his lips as he put his cell on speaker.

“You’re right, Sammi is a bright student who performs well in all of her subjects, but that is only part of being a successful student. I would like to reschedule a conference with you in order to discuss some concerns I have. Just email me a date, time and location that you will be able to keep even if I have to meet you at work.” Sam was snickering quietly as Dean narrowed his eyes at him.

“How about this afternoon? I can have my brother take Sammi home and I can meet with you in your classroom. Would that work for you Miss (Y/L/N)?” he heard shuffling of papers in the background.

“That will work great Mr. Winchester. I will see you then.” The call ended, and he sat back in his seat with a sigh.

Sam chuckled, “I like that teacher. I wish I could be there to see her put you in your place.”

Dean punched him in the arm, “I thought parent, teacher conferences were only for the bad students. Could you imagine dad going to one those for us?”

“Dean, we never stayed at one school long enough to have conferences. Look, it sounds like Sammi’s teacher really cares about her so hear her out. She has a unique point of view into Sammi’s life that none of us will have.” Dean sat back knowing Sam was right.

The rest of the day, he spent thinking about what Miss (Y/L/N) meant by concerns she had about Sammi. He thought she was growing up just fine especially for everything she had been through. He tried to give her as much normalcy as possible. When it came time to pick up Sammi up, Sam followed him in the pick-up to take her home.

“Hey dad, why is Uncle Sam here?” she asked as she walked up to him.

“Sam is going to take you home while I have a conference with Miss (Y/L/N). She called me this morning to reschedule it. Is there anything I need to know before I go in there?” He asked giving her a chance to come clean about anything.

Sammi seemed genuinely surprised and shook her head, “No, there’s nothing I can think of. I guess I’ll see you at home then. Dad, please be nice and don’t be awkward.”

Dean chuckled hugging her, “I’ll try my best kiddo.” He watched her climb into Sam’s truck and waved as they pulled away.

He stopped by the office to ask for directions to Miss (Y/L/N)’s room. Walking through the halls of the school brought back horrible memories of Truman High the last school he ever attended. He found room 301 and walked in not seeing anyone inside. Looking around, he found some essays posted to a wall with a banner saying, ‘Hall of Fame’. He found Sammi’s easy on werewolves there bring a proud smile to his face.

“Mr. Winchester?” Dean turned hearing a familiar voice and his eyes went wide for a moment. Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) was a gorgeous lady with (Y/C/H) hair and bright (Y/C/E) eyes. She was dressed in black slacks and olive blouse.

Dean quickly shook his head clearing his thoughts, “Yes, please call me Dean.” He stuck out his hand and the moment her hand was in his it felt like an electric current was running up his arm.

“Nice to finally meet you Dean. Please have a seat.” She said pointing to a chair next to her desk.

He sat down as she pulled out a file from her desk. “Miss (Y/L/N), I’m not entirely sure what your concerns are about Sammi, but I can assure you that she is a great kid who is can do anything she puts her mind too.”

She nodded smiling, “I know she can. Sammi is advance in most of her subjects specifically in history and language arts. We are having to give her special assignments in order to keep her challenged in class. She’s incredibly bright and lovely young lady.”

“I feel there is a but coming here.” Dean said as she looked down at her file.

“Sammi is entering a critical transiting phase of her life. She’s growing into being a young woman and there are certain things that she will need guidance on.” He could tell she was carefully choosing her words.

Dean chuckled, “If you’re talking about the whole becoming a woman, birds and bees talk we had that a few years ago.”

Miss (Y/L/N) laughed was like music to his ears. Dean could not help to notice how her eyes lit up when she laughed. Something deep within him wanted to see more of that and his mind was buzzing with a mixture of fear along with excitement.

“There’s a difference between giving her facts and teaching her how to survive middle and high school with the ever-growing validation of social media for teens. Did you know she has been hanging out with an eighth-grade boy?” Dean’s eyes snapped up to hers panic filling them.

“No, his name doesn’t happen to be Josh?” he asked his through gritted teeth.

Miss (Y/L/N) reached over placing her hand over his, “Don’t worry Mr. Winchester, they are just friends. However, I do believe Josh is developing some feelings for her. Sammi has been tutoring him in history during their study hall period in my classroom.” She paused for a moment looking down at their hands together.

She withdrew her hand from atop of his as she continued, “I know Sammi’s mother passed away. She’s written about it a few times.” She handed him some papers with Sammi’s handwriting on them. “I want to propose something to you and if you’re okay with it then I will ask Sammi about it.”

Dean looked down at the papers skimming over the pages. Reading his daughter’s thoughts and coming from a one parent home was eye opening. He looked up to Miss (Y/L/N), “I’m listening.”

“I would like to mentor Sammi. We would hang out for a few hours at my house on Saturday or Sunday. Just a little one on one time with a female who knows what she is going through. It’s a little unorthodox but there is nothing in the school bylaws that prohibits it. However, if you are uncomfortable with the idea then I won’t push it any further.” He looked up at her uneasily.

He knew Sammi needed a female role model to help her, but he did not know how to have that with someone who was outside of their world. A civilian getting dangerously close to a world of monsters and mayhem. Looking back down at Sammi’s papers seeing how much she missed her mom was the final nail in the coffin.

“I think that would be a great idea Miss (Y/L/N). You’re by far her favorite teacher and I think it would help Sammi a lot. I just ask that if any major happens that you loop me in as well.” He said as she gave him a breathtaking smile.

“Great! I will talk to Sammi about it this week and send home details with her. It was great meeting you Dean.” She said as they both stood up.

He shook her hand not wanting to let go, “Nice to meet you as well Miss (Y/L/N).”

She walked him to her classroom door, “Please, call me (Y/N).” he nodded.

“Have a good day, (Y/N).” he said smiling his heart thumping in his chest as a light blush crept over her cheeks.

When he arrived back at the Bunker, Sammi was in the library anxiously waiting for him. “How’d it go? What did Miss (Y/L/N) say? What did you say?” she asked him rapidly.

“Whoa, slow your roll kiddo. It went fine. We discussed how you’re killing it in history and language arts which I’m pretty sure we have Sam to thank for that.” He said as she nodded sitting down with him at one of the large tables.

“True, he does let me help out a lot when he’s researching. What else?” she asked

He smiled at her deciding it was best to just be honest, “She told me you’re tutoring an eighth-grader in history.” She looked up at him wide eyed.

“Dad, I was…” she started to say but he stopped her.

“Kiddo, it’s fine. You’re a smart kid and I know you’re going to start making more of your own decisions. Don’t ever think I don’t trust you, because I do. I don’t trust other people because you’re the most important person in my life and if anything, ever happened to you I don’t know what I would do. Understand?” He asked hoping he did not make her mad.

When a small smile appeared on her face Dean let out a sigh of relief, “I get it dad and I appreciate you always being there to protect me. I’m going to go work on some homework in my room. I’m glad your conference went well with Miss (Y/L/N).”

Sammi got up kissing his cheek before heading down the hallway. Dean slumped back into his chair closing his eyes and immediately seeing (Y/N)’s smile. Open his eyes he muttered, “Aw hell.”

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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whiskeyxcola · 5 years

Text

The American Initiative

Part Ten

Masterlist

A/N: This was the first Marvel fic I ever started, and I’m super excited to share it with you all! Thanks to @captain-s-rogers for your help, approval, and encouragement on this one!

Tags: @captain-s-rogers @the-murder-strut @delicatecapnerd @life-of-a-nerd

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Without Grace to keep her busy in her downtime, Ellie had more time to think -- about a lot of things. She found out more about herself in the first couple of days that Grace was gone than she had in a while. Furthermore, she discovered that she wasn’t the kind of person to bottle up her feelings; she could be in control and not let on to them, but she wasn’t going to hide them from herself, either.

This realization prompted her to cautiously broach the subject of relationships with Steve.

“I don’t mean to make things awkward, for either of us,” Ellie assured, “I just — I’m trying to figure out how to handle it now, I suppose.”

Steve nodded. “That’s perfectly understandable, Elle. Even if you remembered things from before, being an Avenger is a whole new can of worms.”

Ellie smiled at his analogy. “Something like that.”

“I don’t know much about relationships overall, to be honest. Before the injections, I was a scrawny Brooklyn kid with asthma and zero allure. After the injections, there was Captain America — but there was also a woman. Her name was Peggy; she was part of the initiative, I suppose. Smart and tough and kind -- not a lot unlike you, actually. She had faith in me when no one else did. I suppose there was something between us, but then I had to put that airplane in the ice and everything else happened …”

Steve trailed off, a nostalgic sheen glazing his eyes. Ellie bit her lip and looked away, giving him a moment of privacy with his memories.

“Did you ever think about finding her, you know, when you woke up?”

Returning from his trip down memory lane, Steve chuckled, albeit sadly. “I thought about it, sure, but life went on without me, Elle. Peggy would be an old woman by now.”

“Oh, right …”

The two of them had lingered in silence for a few moments after that, before Ellie showed him some mercy and changed the subject. The thought occurred to her that, old woman or not, Steve was still in love with this Peggy woman -- perhaps he would always be. For that reason, though she had accepted her feelings, Ellie decided it was best to keep them to herself.

* * * * *

A familiar man opened the door. “Gracie?”

“Heya, Frank. I’m lookin’ for Joel.”

Frank smiled and hugged her tight. “I told the ole boy you’d be back before we knew it. Joel don’t stay here anymore, though.”

Grace frowned. “Where’d he go?”

“C’mon in here,” Frank said, pulling her out of the hallway. “I’ll call him. He’s in hiding, ya know.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

She sat on the couch -- the one she and Joel had picked out together for the apartment -- dropped her bag on the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest. Frank spoke in a hushed voice in the kitchen not far away, and Grace could hear every word. When he disconnected the call, he came back around.

“Gimme ten minutes, Gracie. I’ll take you to Joel.”

“All right, let’s go.”

Frank hit the power button on the remote; the cessation of sound broke Grace’s train of thought. She shouldered her bag again and followed her old friend out the door.

* * * * *

She was sitting in a conference room on her own when Natasha came to meet her. Ellie smiled a greeting at the other woman and put her hand on the brown file folder in front of her.

“Thanks for meeting me. I think I’m about ready to do this, but I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“What is that?” Natasha inquired.

Ellie took a deep breath. “My entire life, up to the point that Fury came to claim me at the hospital. I haven’t looked at it before, and I only know a few things from what I’ve been told about how I came to be part of The American Initiative. Something someone said to me recently -- I’ve been thinking about life after we’re gone. I’ve been wondering how my family is getting on, and who all is left. I want to know the things I don’t remember.”

Natasha pursed her lips together and picked at her nails. She re-directed her focus to Ellie, but couldn’t make herself ask the question.

“You think this is a bad idea?”

Natasha shook her head.. “No. Not if it’s something you feel the conviction to do, Ella. I just -- are you going to be able to handle all of the things in this folder? You don’t know what’s in there, and -- you make the decision for yourself, I’m here if you decide to go ahead. Sometimes though, I think it’s best to remember that the things left in the past, are left there for good reason.”

Natasha’s advice was good advice. Ellie took it all into consideration, and finally decided to open the file. The first page was all about her.

“I was a teacher,” Ellie smiled. “US history, for a high school.”

As Ellie came to the end of the section on her family, her jaw dropped and her eyes filled with tears. She shoved the file away and stood, fleeing the room and eventually the building.

Natasha pulled the file in front of her, her jaw going just as slack as Ellie’s had as she took in the information in front of her.

* * * * *

“This is some shady shit, Frankie,” Grace muttered as they walked down a concrete staircase. “What the hell is going on?”

“Gracie?”

The voice broke through the silence, causing Grace to turn and face the man she knew so well. He was bigger now, taller and more muscular — she wondered what else had changed about him.

“Joel,” she said, letting his name out on a breath of feigned relief.

He opened his arms and Grace dropped her bag, running to him. The couple embraced, and Joel lifted her face to his, kissing her roughly.

“I missed you — how did you get out?”

Grace swallowed hard. “They cleared me, put me in witness protection. I got the drop on my guards.”

“Always a runner,” Joel smirked, pushing the hood away from her. “Your hair got longer.”

“Yeah … Joel, what is all of this?” Grace gestured to the machines and computers around them.

Grace smiled as she stepped up to him again. “I always said you had great potential.”

Joel chuckled and kissed her again. “C’mon, I’ll show you the rest of the place.”

* * * * *

He found her near the archery range. She was standing but with her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Steve slowed and reached out a hand to her shoulder.

“Ellie …”

Her head lifted and she sniffled as she turned to look at him. Stepping right up to him, Ellie bit her lip as she took Steve’s face in her hands and pressed her lips to his.

She dissolved into sobs again, but this time, not alone. Steve stepped towards her again, pulling her against his chest and promising her that everything was going to be all right.

#avengers #fanfiction #marvel #clint barton #hawkeye #steve rogers #captain america #ofc #stop ofc impartiality #clint #clint x ofc #clint barton x ofc #hawkeye x ofc #steve #steve x ofc #steve rogers x ofc #captain america x ofc #lmnopQUEUE

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