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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years ago

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Try Everything

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers!

Read the series here!

Masterlist

You weren’t his girlfriend.

He knew you weren’t his girlfriend. In fact, it was entirely his fault that you weren’t his girlfriend.

And yet, he saw you leaning towards Bucky every time he closed his eyes.

He had no right to get mad about what you did with Bucky. He knew he had broken up with you, and that meant you could do whatever you wanted. But no matter how many times he told himself that, he still felt a searing hot jealousy when he thought of it.

Despite his jealousy about the Bucky situation, Peter was still determined to get you back. He knew he messed up by breaking up with you, and now he had to fix things.

When he saw you on Monday morning at your locker, he put his plan in getting you back into motion.

“Hey.” Peter greeted you with a shy smile. You stayed silent, which is what he feared would happen.

“Are you still giving me the silent treatment?” Peter asked you.

“Are you still giving me the silent treatment.” You mimicked his voice while moving your hand like a puppet.

“Okay. That’s good.” Peter nodded. “We’re making progress.”

You glared at him before shutting your locker and walked away.

“Y/n.” Peter whined and followed you. “Don’t walk away.”

He was able to catch up to you before you went into your next class. He didn’t want to touch you, so he stood in front of you to stop you.

“You know you’re gonna have to talk to me at some point, right?” He asked. “Our lockers are right next to each other and we have multiple classes together. And summer is coming. These next few weeks are the last we’ll have together. Don’t you want to hug me once you cross the stage at graduation? Or do you want to spend these next few weeks pretending the longest relationship you ever had never happened?”

You stayed silent, knowing Peter was right. You didn’t want to leave for college knowing the two of you were enemies again.

“Please.” Peter said quietly. “You can’t just act like I’m not here.”

You looked at him for a long time, sparking hope inside him that you were going to forgive him. Finally, you cracked a smile and shook your head at him.

“Watch me.” You said before bumping his shoulder to move past him. Peter felt his heart break all over again as your footsteps sounded further and further away.

The next morning, Peter was back at it again with trying to talk to you. He saw you at your locker and immediately went to his.

“Good morning.” Peter smiled at you, but got no answer.

“Please, Y/n. It’s been weeks.” He frowned. “And I’m not particularly thrilled with you right now either but we need to talk.”

You wondered why he was mad at you, but you didn’t say anything.

“I fucked up.” He admitted. “I shouldn’t have broken up with you like that.”

You shut your locker and looked at him for a moment. He fought the urge to take your books from you the way he used to and act like everything was fine.

“You know how I said you’re right about once a month?” You asked him, reminding Peter of when you were first trying out the relationship.

“Yeah?” He said hopefully.

“You just hit your quota for the month.” You patted his chest and walked away from him. Peter let out a huff and walked to his first class, which of course, he had with you.

“Good morning, class.” The teacher greeted as you took your seats. “Since summer is coming, I’ve decided to give you a final project instead of a final. I’ll be picking your partners again.”

Your heart stopped for a moment when you heard the announcement. The first time she assigned partners, you ended up with a boyfriend. You could only imagine what would happen this time. Peter shifted in his seat behind you, telling you he was thinking the exact same thing.

Your teacher began to list off the partners and your anxiety built every time your name wasn’t called. The number of available students that weren’t Peter was getting lower and lower.

“Ned, Eugene, you’ll be working together.” She read off her list. You shut your eyes and prayed that you and Peter wouldn’t be matched.

“Oh no.” Ned gulped and looked at Flash.

“Oh yes.” Flash winked at Ned.

“Peter, Y/n, you’ll be working together again.” Your teacher read, knocking the wind right out of you. Peter smiled a little, happy that he’d have an excuse to talk to you.

You, on the other hand, were less than pleased. Your hand immediately shot up and you spoke before being called on.

“Can I please have a different partner?” You asked. Peter let out a sigh and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. The class, who had just gotten used to the fact that you and Peter were a couple, looked at each other in confusion.

“Why?” The teacher asked. “I thought you two had worked out your differences?”

“I thought so too.” You said sweetly. “But since my current partner has proven to be unreliable and a major A-hole, I don’t think I can trust him.”

Peter’s jaw dropped, feeling that dormant feeling of competition with you returning. If you were going to act like that, he was too.

“I also want a new partner,” Peter said as he raised his hand. “Apparently my current partner ran around to others partners when our project ended.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked as you whipped around in your seat.

“Y/n. Language.” The teacher reprimanded you.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized. “I just don’t think this partner is right for me. I’d rather be on my own.”

Peter let out a humorless laugh when you used the very words he said to break up with you.

“Right. Like you were on your own in the kitchen the other night?” He shot back.

“What?” You whipped around again. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Peter hissed.

“No, dingus, I don’t.” You taunted. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“I’m talking about you filling yourself up with fossil fuel the second we break up”. Peter snapped.

“Fossil fuel?” You asked. Your eyes widened when you realized he meant Bucky. “Oh my God. You watched the security tapes? Are you stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you were mature enough to answer my calls.” Peter shot back.

“If you two are so inclined to have this conversation, you can continue it outside of my class.” The teacher cut in. You suddenly remembered that you were in class and had an audience watching your fight.

“Fine. I’ll leave.” Peter said as he picked up his backpack.

“Yeah.” You laughed. “He’s good at that.”

“You’re both leaving.” The teacher said. “Now.”

You grabbed your backpack and marched out of the classroom with Peter close behind him. You never turned to look at him, but you could hear his heavy footsteps behind you.

“We need to talk.” Peter called after you.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You grumbled.

“Then how are we supposed to work together?” Peter asked, stopping in his tracks. You stopped too and whipped around to see him.

“We’ll do it on Einstein’s photoelectric effect model.” You stated. “You can do the research and I’ll write the paper. We won’t have to see each other anymore than we have to.”

“But I want to see you.” Peter said quietly.

“Oh, you do?” You folded your arms. “Is that why you broke up with me?”

“I didn’t think it would be like this.” Peter sighed. “I knew you’d be mad, but you’re acting like I don’t even exist. I know I broke your heart, and I’m really sorry about that, but we have a lot of history, Y/n. You can’t just pretend I’m not here.”

“Yes, I can.” You shrugged. “It’s easier when you don’t talk to me, though.”

Peter folded his arms as well, staring at you with fuming anger as he thought of what to say. To him, you were being unreasonably and immature. He knew you were upset, but he couldn’t fix things if you didn’t give him a chance to.

“Did you sleep with Bucky?” He blurted. It wasn’t the way he wanted to ask you, but he was at a loss for any other words.

“Oh my God.” You groaned and started walking again. “We are absolutely not having this conversation.”

“Could you please stop walking away?” Peter’s asked as he followed you. “I’m trying to talk to you.”

“I don’t care.” You said as you sped up. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Y/n.” Peter whined and began to jog to catch up. “Since when did you walk this fast?”

“Fuck off, Peter.” You called back.

“Let me talk to you.” He ran and stood in front of you again. “What were you doing with Bucky?”

“None of your business. You’re not my boyfriend, remember?” You raised your voice. “You forfeited any right to have an opinion on my life when you broke up with me and couldn’t be bothered to give me a reason why. Do you honestly think you’re allowed to be mad about Bucky? Because you’re not. I moved on, Peter. You should too.”

You tried to move past him but he blocked you.

“But with him?” He asked sadly. “You knew I was insecure about him.”

“And you knew I needed communication in a relationship.” You shot back. “And yet, we ended up on completely different pages. I don’t like being caught off guard, Peter. You knew you were gonna break up with me at lunch, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I did.” He admitted.

“That’s what I thought.” You nodded. “But instead of talking to me then, you lied to me and told me everything was fine. You’re such a dick. I can’t believe I ever loved you.”

Your words cut into Peter like a dagger. He physically stumbled back from you as your words sunk in. His eyes fell to the ground and for a moment, you felt guilty. You almost reached out and pulled him into a hug, craving his touch after three weeks without it. Instead, you shifted your backpack on your shoulder as you fought the urge to forgive him.

“Email me your research by next week.” You said before you thought it through. “And do me a favor?”

“Yeah. Anything.” Peter nodded hopefully.

“Don’t talk to me.” You smiled tightly. “Thanks.”

You turned and walked away from Peter, tears falling from your eyes the second he couldn’t see you anymore.

When his efforts to talk to you in school failed, Peter went to plan b. He went to your house right after school and knocked on your door, impatiently waiting for you to open up. Soon enough, he heard the door click and was met with your unimpressed gaze.

“Oh my God.” You groaned when you saw who it was. “You can’t just show up here.”

“And you can’t open the door if you didn’t look through the peephole first.” Peter shrugged. “What if I had a gun?”

“Do you?” You asked sarcastically.

“No.” He answered. “But you wouldn’t know that because you didn’t look through the-“

“What do you want?” You cut him off. Peter shut his mouth and let out a sigh. He knew you won’t any excuses, so he got right to it.

“I was lying.”

“Oh, great.” You smiled sarcastically and tried to close your door.

“I never fell out of love.” He continued as he held your door open. “My feelings never changed. I love you just as much now as I always have. I promise.”

You took your hand off your door when you heard this. This information changed everything for you but left you even more confused than before.

“Then why did you break up with me?” You asked quietly.

“I couldn’t sleep the night you came to my apartment after that man attacked you.” Peter began. “Or the night before. I couldn’t stop thinking that being with me meant you’d never be safe again. I broke up with you to prevent people going after you for being my girlfriend.”

“That’s ridiculous.” You scoffed. “I can protect myself.”

“That’s exactly what Ned said you would say.” Peter realized.

“So you talked to Ned about it and still broke up with me?”

“I wasn’t thinking straight.” Peter shook his head. “I just needed to know you were safe.”

“Well, I think that’s stupid.” You said simply. “And slightly narcissistic to think people care about Spiderman enough to go after his girlfriend. It’s not like you’re Iron Man or anything.”

“Are you kidding me? How is that-“ Peter cut himself off when he noticed the slight smile on your face.

“You’re teasing me.” He realized.

“Sorry.” You said unapologetically. “Habit.”

“It’s okay. I deserved that.”

You nodded in agreement and pursed your lips. Peter knew you well enough to know when you were trying to come to terms with something. He could only hope the fact that you hadn’t shut the door yet meant he was forgiven.

“Whats wrong?” He asked you.

“I’m angry that you broke up with me and lied about why.” You told him.

“I know.”

“But I’m less angry because I would have done the exact same thing.” You continued, making Peter lit up with newfound hope.

“You would have?” He asked as his lips twitched into a smile.

“You’re Spiderman. And I love that. But I love Peter Parker more.” You told him. “And if the roles were reversed, I would’ve done everything in my power to keep you safe. I’d probably do something more than what you did, but that’s just because I’m a better person than you.”

Peter laughed at your joke, missing your dry sense of humor after three weeks of silence.

“You’re not that good of a person. You fucked my coworker.” He reminded you.

“I tried to fuck your coworker.” You corrected. “But I failed so I’m basically a saint.”

“You failed?” Peter lit up. “You didn’t sleep with Bucky?”

“No.” You admitted. “He turned me down.”

Peter’s cheeks puffed up at his tried his hardest to fight a smile.

“Don’t laugh.” You pointed a finger at him.

“I’m sorry.” He burst into laughter. “But you were rejected by a terrorist. That’s so embarrassing.”

“Shut up.” You smacked his arm. “He didn’t reject me. He was being a gentleman.”

“He’s also a hundred years old, you grandpa fucker.” Peter mumbled.

“Leave me alone.” You whined. “I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.” Peter’s laughter died down. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I was really feeling. I should’ve communicated better. I know how important that is to you.”

“And I’m sorry I told my friends you had a micropenis.” You mumbled.

“That’s okay.” He nodded. “I deserved that.”

“And that I had to fake it every time.” You continued.

“Okay.” He liked that one a little less.

“And that you’re on steroids.” You mumbled.

“You’re pushing it.”

“Sorry.” You chuckled, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m sorry too. And I meant everything I said. I never stopped loving you.” Peter told you. “Did you stop loving me?”

“I tried to.” You admitted. “But even when I hated you, I always loved you more.”

“So are we okay?” Peter hoped. Your smile dropped suddenly, and Peter’s heart went with it.

“No, Peter.” You said quietly. “I don’t think we are.”

“Why not?”

“How do I know this isn’t gonna happen again? It’s a valid concern, to think that people will go after me because of you.” You told him. “How do I know you won’t break up with me every time you think I’m in danger?

“I won’t do that.” Peter promised you.

“You just did.” You reminded him. “What makes you think you won’t do it again?”

Peter grimaced, knowing his answer was not what you were looking to hear.

“I hate to say this, but I don’t know.” He confessed. “I just think I won’t.”

“Well I don’t know if I can be in a relationship with someone who “just thinks” he won’t break up with me.” You said as you folded your arms.

“I think you should.” Peter pouted. “I think it would be fun.”

“Or how about this? Maybe I agree with you.” You shrugged. “Maybe I don’t want to date you anymore because I don’t want to be in danger.”

“What?” Peter sputtered. “Since when do you ever agree with me?”

“Since now.” You decided.

“Then we’ll make a compromise.” Peter suggested. “We just won’t be seen together while I’m in the suit. And I’ll get Mr. Stark to make you some travel sizes weapons so you can protect yourself. And he can put a tracker on you like he has a tracker on me. And we can figure out-“

“Hm.” You cut Peter off and took your time looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong?” He panicked. “Is that not enough?”

“I’ve just decided that I don’t like you anymore.” You said simply. Peter let out a sigh of relief when he realized you were joking.

“Don’t even start.” He warned.

“I can’t be with you.” You shrugged. “I’ve fallen in love with Bucky. Its the criminal record. I just can’t help myself.”

“Yes you can”. Peter insisted.

“No. His thunder thighs are calling me.” You tried to shut the door again. “I can hear them now.”

You stepped back into your apartment, and Peter took a step in. He cupped your face in his hands and spun you around, pinning you against your front door.

“If you want to get rid of me, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.” He mumbled as he brushed your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Well I do love a challenge.” You smiled under his thumb. “I bet I could-“

Peter didn’t let you finish as he pressed his body into yours and shut you up with a kiss.

“You talk too much.” He mumbled against your lips before going in for another kiss. You gripped the lapels of his flannel to pull him closer, but pushed him away suddenly with your eyebrows furrowed.

“Fuck.” You exclaimed with an angry huff.

“What’s wrong?” Peter worried as he took his hands off of you.

“I just remembered we have another fucking project to do.” You grumbled.

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He laughed in disbelief. “Our school project?”

“You’re laughing because you weren’t the one who did most of the work last time.” You pointed out.

“Can you please stop talking so I can kiss you?” Peter whined. “We can worry about that later.”

“But we have to at least start-“ Your sentence was once again cut off by Peter’s lips, and this time, you were glad he shut you up. You were finally back together and you had deeply missed his touch.

The project could wait.

THE END

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years ago

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The Geraskier Soccer Parents AU of my dreams (in an early morning strike of weird-brain):

-Geralt knows he isn't the best dad ever. He tries so goddamn hard, but his job is demanding and consumes so much time and even with Ciri being seven already, he still has essentially no clue what he's doing. He sometimes falls into bed, half-dead, and she is the one to give him a good-night kiss. He sometimes forgets she prefers cheese and puts ham on her sandwiches. He is sometimes too happy to have her sleep over at her friends rather than invite them to their house. He doesn't read her all the children's classics, doesn't go trick-or-treating with her, doesn't even pretend Santa Claus is a thing. He isn't the best dad ever. He tries.

-There is one thing he never, ever fails to do and that is take Ciri to soccer practice. Ciri picks up and drops hobbies, interests, even tastes by the week, still unsure what she wants to pursue, but soccer isn't only her favourite pastime, it's theirs. Practice is twice a week and they have a ritual for it. Geralt picks her up from school and drives her there, she tells him about what the dumb boys in her class said, how her art project is going etc. Geralt is there throughout practice, tucked in between Foltest - a guy who is constantly worried for his daughter Adda to get hurt and also very much anxious for her to do well - and Tissaia - a woman who has not one, but three girls in Ciri's age group and several more in others, and knits like a magician - and watches. He takes notes, silently cheers for Ciri.

-After their games and while Ciri changes, Geralt chats with her coach Vesemir - who used to be Geralt's coach, but now prefers to train the girls' teams - about the progress of the team, upcoming tournaments etc. Sometimes when Vesemir is indisposed, Geralt even leads the practice. When Ciri is all done, Tissaia usually has another hat or mitten finished and Geralt and her drive with their girls to whatever food place the girls are in the mood for. They have an early dinner in which Tissaia lectures the girls on their form and in which Ciri is sometimes allowed to sit on Geralt's lap - but only if Fringilla or Yen don't tease hear about it - but in which she definitely gets to steal his milkshake (Geralt hates milkshakes). Geralt only praises her when they're back in the car and Ciri tells him he's too much of a softie with her and should be more like Tissaia. Should maybe marry Tissaia. They both laugh because that is never going to happen.

-Life is good that way. It's not perfect, it's not without bumps, certainly not without tears and scrapes, but whatever the job, whatever injury Geralt carries with him, however long he has to drive, he never, never ever misses soccer practice.

-The season's just kicked off in the year of Ciri's eighth birthday when Geralt and her arrive early on the field to find the stands empty save for a girl in the most ridiculously colorful excercise clothes and blond hair that is braided intricately around her head. With her is a man, maybe five years Geralt's junior. Ciri bolts towards them with a bright grin and Geralt is hesitant to follow. He knows neither the girl nor the man, but from what he can gather she wants to join the team which is just what they need as they're one girl short this season. "Hi, I'm Ciri, I adore your braids." Geralt holds back on the eye-roll. It's nice Ciri can make friends this easily, but his house already is a shrine for role-playing and board games, dolls and random DVDs and another friend means more things Ciri will want to try out. "Thank you," the girl replies and tilts her head to better show them off. "My uncle Jaskier braided them for me, I'm sure he can do yours too." Both girls look up expectantly at the man and Geralt only really notices him then. He is averagely built with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. His floral print shirt has three open buttons and his pants barely reach his ankles. He has the look of a flippant music teacher or a hipster coffeeshop owner. His eyes meets Geralt's and, wait, did he just wink? "I'd love to, dear," he says in a smooth voice that absolutely does not go straight to Geralt's guts. Geralt turns on the spot and decides to pressure check the balls, but he can hear the others giggling as Jaskier braids Ciri's hair. "I'm Priscilla by the way. What's up with your dad?" - "Oh, don't mind him, he's bad with meeting new people." - "Very intense." That's Jaskier. Oh, Geralt will show him intense.

-Ciri invites them to their after-practice dinner. Geralt wants to begrudge her that, but she and Priscilla have latched onto each other in record speed and Jaskier actually fights Tissaia on some of her more strict stances and he braids Yen's and Sabrina's hair too, only Fringilla doesn't want him to touch hers which he respects. Geralt and Tissaia glance at each other. Come to a silent agreement. They may not befriend Jaskier, but he's sunny and so good with the girls and they can use someone like him among their ranks, someone who doesn't have Calanthe's tendency for swear words or Crach's tendency to break out beer in the middle of practice or even Nenneke's tendency to relate everything to the workings of god.

-Jaskier is as faithful as Geralt, perhaps the only one who shows up every time without fail. Shani's parents only drop her off and Crach switches between Cerys' and Hjalmar's practices and Tissaia sometimes texts Geralt to pick up her girls. Jaskier is there, every time, earlier than any of the others. He chats with Vesemir about his day-to-day, brings home-baked cookies for everyone, he cheers and whoops and tries very hard to understand soccer even though it's evident he doesn't. Geralt never wonders why it's him and not Priscilla's parents that come, it's none of his business. He begins to tolerate Jaskier, but he knows that is where he has to draw the line. He has his hands full with Ciri and his job and his brothers too. He can't afford friendships that extend beyond the field.

-Jaskier doesn't let him off though. He always takes the spot next to Geralt (technically an improvement over Foltest's sweaty visage) and prattles on and on, at least until the game begins. When it does, Jaskier divides his attention between the girls and the stack of paper on his lap which he annotates during practice. It's often either sheet music or the illegible scrawl of pre-teens or wonkily drawn instruments. Jaskier already told him, but from that too it is obvious that Geralt's hunch was right, he is a music teacher. Geralt finds his eyes darting to Jaskier's long fingers, nimble and calloused from the various string instruments he plays. Finds himself glancing at where Jaskier's tongue peeks out in concentration. He listens to the man's ramblings and hums his replies and comes to dislike the days when Vesemir isn't there and he has to focus all his attention on giving the girls a good practice. Not that he doesn't want to, it's just that having Jaskier at his back unnerves him.

-(Jaskier for his part doesn’t care at all about soccer, but he cares about Priscilla so he convinced her parents to let him take her; after that, she said it would be fine if he dropped her off and picked her up again, but Jaskier pretends he is super invested in the sport and the team and he is, but mostly he’s invested in charming Geralt)

-After an entire season of mutual pining and obliviousness, Tissaia decides she's had enough and rallies the other parents. She has Foltest organize a big party at his country house, has Nenneke promise to look after the girls (the woman doesn't drink) and has Crach whip out the finest spirits he has in storage. Calanthe makes a phenomenal playlist and it's Tissaia's job to get Geralt to the party (Jaskier's not a problem) and dress up nicely. Only Aridea, Renfri's stepmother, refuses to pitch in, but she's been a bitch anyway.

-When Geralt picks up Jaskier at his downtown flat he has to grip the wheel of his rover hard in order not to short-circuit. Jaskier has done something to his hair that Geralt can't name but that makes him go woozy inside. He wears a plain shirt that compliments his eyes and hugs his body just right and he looks high on life with color in his cheeks and the most dazzling smile. He's gorgeous. "Darling, don't you look dashing," Jaskier says excitedly and props his feet up on the dashboard, only after kissing Geralt on the cheek. Which is not fair. "Likewise," Geralt mutters, then blushes furiously. He didn't want that to come out, oh no. Jaskier either didn't hear or acts like it and they drive in silence to Foltest's country house. Well, aside from the songs Jaskier hums under his breath, some new composition no doubt.

-At first, Geralt thinks it's a nice enough party for someone who doesn't like parties. Foltest's grilling burgers, they all have cocktails, the music is mellow. Not that that stops Jaskier from swirling an already quite drunk Calanthe over the terrace in dazzling moves. Geralt wants to be swirled like that. "You really have it bad, don't you?" Crach comments when he notices Geralt staring. Geralt downs his beer (he's no cocktail drinker) and tries pointedly not to stare at how Jaskier's swinging his ass around.

-The buzz makes it easier and he relieves Foltest at the barbecue for a bit. But then Jaskier walks up to him, a little short on breath and grinning his most flirtatious little grin. It gives him fucking dimples. Sigh. "Hey you big strong man," Jaskier says. He smells like pineapple and coconut, but isn't even a little drunk. "Jask," he says, pointedly flipping a burger. "Foltest says he has an old karaoke machine in the shed, but it's too heavy for me. Help me?" - "...fine." Geralt gestures for Foltest to keep up with the meat and he and Jaskier make their way along a garden path that winds through thickets and by a small pond. The shed is painted blue and white and Geralt and Jaskier find it very much cluttered, but not dirty which is nice. Geralt only understands it's a trap when it's already sprung on them. The tiny click of the look is almost inaudible over Jaskier's anxious commentary of their search for the machine. There is only one small window and no light Geralt can see. Fuck.

-"Ehm, Jaskier?" he reaches out and gently touches Jaskier's shoulder which has the other man yelp and jump. Which doesn't bode well for what Geralt has to tell him. "I think we're trapped." The effect is immediate. Jaskier goes rigid, his breath catches. Is he afraid? Claustrophobic perhaps? Shit, so he can't be in on the joke. "Jask?" - "Geralt. I know we aren't the closest, but I need you to hold me right now." And he launches himself at Geralt. Maybe he is in on the joke? No, he's trembling too hard for that. Geralt catches him and does as asked. "I am absolutely going to die," Jaskier whines into Geralt's neck and Geralt can't help a small chuckle as he rubs Jaskier's back soothingly. This is... surprisingly nice for a trap. Also likely Tissaia's doing. Geralt has a rare idea. "What if I distract you until someone finds us?" he murmurs against Jaskier's hair and Jaskier draws back a little. In the half-dark his eyes glisten, widen when they meet Geralt's. "You would?" - "Close your eyes, Jaskier." Geralt feels a surge of daring, perhaps granted by the intimacy and seclusion of the situation. He catches Jaskier's lips with his own. When they part, Jaskier grins, shaking from something other than fear. "I thought you didn’t much like me," he whispers. "I thought I got on your nerves." - "Idiot." They kiss again and, faintly, Geralt can hear someone cheer from outside.

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ncssian · 4 years ago

Text

A Favor: Part Fourteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: my quickest AND longest update to date?? who am i??

merry christmas for real this time. thank you sm for reading i never voice my appreciation for yall but it’s there i swear

tw: abuse mention

***

Cassian’s plan to grab his stuff and get the hell back home is intercepted by Feyre, who pulls him aside and proceeds to spill everything about her fight with Nesta to him.

His heart hurts for Feyre—he of all people knows what it’s like to feel unwanted by your biological family. But what did she really think would happen? Their entire friend group is about placing chosen bonds over blood bonds. Feyre can’t be that offended if Nesta prefers the company of her friends over her little sisters. And trying to talk to Nesta about her therapy? Jesus.

But Cassian has a feeling it’ll take both Feyre and Elain a long spelling out of things before they can begin to understand Nesta the way he does, and he doesn’t have time for that right now. He’s too distracted to even provide the comfort Feyre came to him for.

Somehow, he makes up an excuse and detaches himself from the conversation, leaving to find his coat and keys. Azriel spies him on the way to the door and gives him a look.

“Not a fucking word,” Cassian growls as he passes. Everyone else is engrossed in a game of poker and getting progressively more drunk. Feyre now sits on Rhys’s lap, once again content. Azriel only smirks but shakes his head, letting Cassian slip out of the penthouse unnoticed.

He takes the long way home, needing the night air and flashing headlights to clear his head. Once he gets off the freeway leading to town, though, he picks up his phone and calls Nesta.

She doesn’t pick up.

On the fourth call that goes unanswered, Cassian gives up. Fine. She doesn’t want to talk to him tonight. But still he finds himself driving past her neighborhood, once, twice, as if he’s listless without being able to talk to her. He has too many feelings he needs to get off his chest, and she’s the first person he always goes to for those things.

Try to consider her feelings.

It’s that thought that forces him to turn around and drive back to the cabin. They’ll both feel better in the morning, anyway. He can find her and talk as soon as the day starts.

It’s past midnight when he finally pulls up to the driveway, and still he’s disappointed to not see Nesta’s car there. Still he’s disappointed to enter an empty cabin.

The Christmas tree they decorated together sits unlit in the corner of the living room, their presents untouched under the fir leaves. Without turning the lights on, Cassian trudges upstairs and heads straight to bed.

Any sleep he finds is short and restless. His eyes shut sometime around three in the morning, and when they next open, early dawn light is streaming in through the windows. Snow flurries gently against the glass.

Giving up on the prospect of genuine rest, Cassian accepts that he’ll have to seek out Nesta with dark circles and a half-functioning brain today.

He already has a list in his mind as he heads downstairs: get coffee and breakfast for Nesta, get dressed, be at her door by the time she wakes at nine.

Then he reaches the foot of the stairs, and realizes none of that is necessary.

Straight out of his dreams, Nesta is sitting cross-legged on the ground before the coffee table, inspecting a puzzle piece in the cutest sweater he’s ever seen.

Cassian freezes with his hand on the banister, wondering if he’s still asleep. He watches her bite her lip intently, trying to fit the puzzle piece into a corner of the puzzle. It doesn’t fit.

“Fuck,” she swears softly, tossing the piece aside. Cassian clears his throat.

Nesta’s head shoots up, her focus broken. “You’re awake.”

“You’re in my house,” he says dumbly.

“That’s what the key you gave me is for, isn’t it?”

Hesitantly, like he’s approaching a wounded bear, Cassian walks farther into the living room. “Are you—I mean, are we…?”

“Use your words, baby.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn’t seem upset. There’s so much he wants to ask her: did she sleep well? Where did she get her Christmas sweater from, and does it mean she’s secretly been a fan of Christmas all along? Does she want hot chocolate or coffee with her breakfast?

“How was your night?” he settles on. He moves to sit across from her at the coffee table.

“Find where this goes,” Nesta demands, handing him a new puzzle piece and pointing to their nearly finished puzzle.

Cassian obeys, and Nesta talks while he works. “I was pretty pissed when I got home last night,” she says. “I wanted to tell you all about this stupid fight I had with my boyfriend, and how I knew he was right but I was still furious at him, until I remembered that you were my boyfriend, and I didn’t want to see you.”

Cassian pretends to focus on the puzzle, letting Nesta get her words out.

“So Gwyn called to say thank you for her present—you were right, by the way, she loves it—and then we ended up talking the whole night, and I told her everything about my sisters and,” she waves a hand, “the other shit.

“And at one point I realized that I was telling her the stuff I needed to be telling you. So I came here as soon as I hung up with Gwyn.”

Cassian looks up. “When was that?”

Nesta shrugs. “Five in the morning?”

“Nesta,” he scolds. “You’ll fuck up your sleep cycle.”

“Will you let me get to my point, damn it?”

Cassian shuts up and sits back.

Nesta is staring down at the puzzle, fiddling with her fingernails. Carefully selecting her next words like an attorney would. “I wanted to apologize for—the things I said last night. I was projecting my insecurities onto you, and I’m sure you already know it, but that doesn’t make it okay.” She looks up, face serious. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other. We always have. But I let that affect how I treated you when you had nothing to do with it.”

“But you were right.” Cassian can’t stay quiet anymore. “I mean, a lot of what you said was wrong, but at the heart of your point you were right.” It took Cassian all night to sift through what Nesta had said, to separate the truth from the meaningless words of hurt. He finally sees it now.

“I should have watched out for you last night, even if I couldn’t claim you as my girlfriend. I know how you are in new environments with new people and I left you to the wolves.” The wolves are his most trusted friends, sure, but they aren’t Nesta’s. And he was an idiot to forget it.

Nesta fixes another puzzle piece into place, and for the first time this morning, true regret passes over her face. “I didn’t enjoy hurting you. I hated every second of it while I was doing it. So as long as you know I didn’t mean any of it, I’ll be fine.”

We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world.

You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now.

Cassian nods once. “I know,” he says softly. “You could never lie to me.” Even if some of her words had struck a little truer than they should have. Cassian realizes bitterly it’s because her insecurities are the same as his.

“So are you going to tell me about what the real problem was yesterday?” He dares to broach the elephant in the room.

Nesta stiffens, refocusing on the puzzle to avoid his gaze. “I already told you,” she says. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other.”

“There’s more to it than that, though.” When Nesta doesn’t respond, he adds, “Feyre told me her side of the story. It probably wasn’t all of it, but if it makes you feel better, I agreed with you.”

Nesta snorts derisively. “She was being unreasonable, but I made it worse. You know that, don’t you?” She raises a brow. “You know how I am.”

Cassian remembers their screaming match from the time he tried to get her a doctor’s appointment, and oddly enough, smiles. “I know you hate it,” he says, “and I know it’s frustrating as hell, but people stop taking your arguments seriously when you start flinging insults. It probably isn’t fair, but you’ve been in a courtroom. You know how it works.”

Nesta grimaces. “Believe me, the future lawyer in me is not proud of how I held up in last night’s fight.”

“Right there.” Cassian slides a section of green pieces over to himself and fits them into place, completing the rolling hills of the landscape scene. There’s only a handful of pieces left, all in the sky area. He waits for Nesta to be ready to speak.

After several moments of working in silence, she says, “My sisters have never really accepted me the way I am. I used to think Elain did back when we were kids, but then I stopped prioritizing her and she stopped understanding.”

Cassian knows Elain is pissed that her once-closest sister no longer cares to talk to her. But what he wants to know is why Nesta stopped answering her calls. Why she pulled away and went into isolation, and wouldn’t come out for anyone until a few short months ago.

Nesta clears her throat. “I was not a well-adjusted kid. I’m not a well-adjusted adult, either, but—I was even worse in my youth. I had a deadbeat dad, who I hated while my sisters adored him. I hated the life we had to live because of him, and I let that hate seep everywhere. Into everything and everyone else.” She blows out a breath and shakes her head. “There was no place closer to hell than that fucking one-bedroom apartment. I hated the person I was in that place—like I had no control over my emotions, my tantrums, my entire self. I was stuck in this childlike state of rage and I couldn’t move on, couldn’t grow up.

“No one could figure out what was wrong with me, so I had to take care of my issues myself. I read more books, I went out more often, I always had headphones in—I learned how to escape. I learned how to limit the destruction. Once I did that, I could care for Elain more openly. I could have civil conversations with Feyre, too. That’s where we went wrong, I think. I gave Feyre hope that I could be a better person, and once she latched onto it, she refused to let go.” Nesta picks at the sleeves of her knit sweater. “She never understood that I was cold and removed just because I was. She always had this belief that deep down, I secretly had a heart of gold and a shit ton of love to give. I never bothered telling her she was wrong, so her expectations of me grew. And so did Elain’s. And then I graduated high school.” She shrugs.

Cassian frowns. “That’s when you left your family and moved here?”

She nods. “The distance helped. For a short time, I thought I was free. No responsibilities or people to answer to. But then I met Tomas—my ex—and Feyre and Elain followed me to Colorado not long after my dad died. And even then I stayed optimistic, because most people would be lucky to have their sisters and boyfriend all in the same place. I thought I could finally have all the relationships a normal person my age was supposed to have if I just put in the effort.” She meets Cassian’s eyes. “I never told you much about Tomas, did I?”

His stomach sinks, but he shakes his head.

“It was not a fun first love. But the only reason I didn’t tell you about it earlier was because I didn’t know how to describe it myself.” She rubs her palms down her thighs, but it isn’t enough to hide their tremble.

“I know what to call it now,” Nesta says. “It was abusive.”

Cassian says nothing. He can’t. But his hands curl into hard fists under the coffee table.

“Lana made me work up to using that word.” She rolls her eyes, like the whole thing annoys and embarrasses her. “He was abusive: physically, verbally, emotionally. I’m not going to go into the details or anything, but it’s what was happening to me during those college years that my sisters needed me to be there for them.”

Cassian would never in a thousand years ask Nesta for information she isn’t ready to give, but in that moment he’s overwhelmed with the need to know everything—every little thing that’s ever been done to her, so he can draw up a list and exact calculated revenge for all of it. His voice is rough against the lump in his throat, out of fury or despair he doesn’t know. “Nesta…”

“I promise I’m almost done.” She holds up a hand.

Take your time. Tell me everything.

“This isn’t about him,” Nesta says. “This is about my sisters. Because even if I hadn’t been stupid enough to let that man waste almost four years of my life, I would have ended up in the same place with Feyre and Elain. They’d still be disappointed when they realized I couldn’t be what they wanted me to be.” She wraps her arms around herself in a hug, and Cassian wishes he’d sat beside her so those could be his arms.

She shakes her head. “I did my best so I wouldn’t be cooped up with them, wouldn’t be lashing out at them… and it still wasn’t enough. They wanted me to be nice, friendly, talkative. So I tried doing that too, even though I hated it. But around the same time things with Tomas started to get unbearable, Feyre found Rhysand and you guys. So now I had to hang out with my sister while she had a group of strangers constantly surrounding her, and go back home to a man who hated me at the end of the day.” She looks up at Cassian then, and her blue-gray gaze hits him with the force of a truck. “As soon as Feyre moved away to Velaris, I saw my way out. I finally broke up with Tomas. I gave up on all my relationships and I let go, and I don’t care if you or anyone else thinks it’s pathetic, or the bare minimum. It’s all I had to give.”

Cassian swallows roughly, unable to find his words. “It’s not pathetic, Nesta,” he finally says. “There’s nothing pathetic about doing what doesn’t come easily to you.”

There’s a million other things he needs to say to her, to make sure that she knows she isn’t stupid, or embarrassing, or not enough. But it all floats right out of his head when she heaves a big, dramatic sigh, as if a great weight has been lifted off her chest. As if Cassian’s measly words were all she needed to hear to feel alright.

She snatches up the final remaining puzzle piece and clicks it into place. “And we’re done,” she declares.

Cassian looks down at the table between them, which is now fully lit by the beaming morning sun outside. His eyes land on an empty space near the corner of the landscape, and his face falls. “There’s a piece missing,” he says.

“No way, where?” Nesta leans closer.

Cassian is already on his hands and knees, checking under and around the table for the missing piece.

“This is all your fault,” Nesta is saying above him. “You bumped into the table that time we were making out and all those pieces went flying.”

“Well, how fucking far could it have gone? Help me find it.” He’s serious now, searching the floor with intent. They can’t leave the puzzle unfinished. It was the only thing he could find in his garage all those months ago that could distract Nesta from anticipating her MRI results. And after the diagnosis, it had been a way to lift her mood, to give the two of them an excuse to spend every evening together—

“Sweetheart, it’s just a puzzle.”

Cassian sits up straight at that. “Just a puzzle?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“Well, it’s either that or an overextended metaphor for our relationship—are you crying?”

“No.” He blinks quickly. If there’s wetness there, he doesn’t know how Nesta glimpsed it.

He’s had a hard twelve hours. Nesta even more so. “I just feel really bad, about last night and everything else.” Because even if she acts like what she just spilled to him isn’t a big deal, he’ll never forget it.

He looks up to find Nesta laughing. Hand-over-her-mouth cackling. Before he can ask what’s wrong with her, she’s climbing up onto the coffee table, breaking up the puzzle and sending pieces scattering as she crawls across it. “Nesta—” he starts to protest.

She drops into his lap, winding her arms and legs around his powerful body. And she leans in and kisses him, long and deep and sweet. His hands settle into the curve of her hips, where they’ve always fit perfectly.

She breaks the kiss to fit her palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she says. She never says that. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Her lips quirk up teasingly, but real guilt from the night before lingers in her eyes. Cassian realizes in that moment that Nesta could never hurt anybody more than she hurts herself.

“Don’t waste your apologies on me.” He nudges her nose with his. “Save them for people who’ll actually need to hear them.”

A real smile starts to bloom on her face. “I’ll try.”

Pride and love take his breath away, but he manages to say, “Thank you. For sharing so much of yourself with me.”

She makes an embarrassed noise and waves him off, but emotion shines in her eyes. Just to spare her, Cassian changes the subject. “Now what in the world are you wearing?”

She glances down at herself, frowning. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it.” The sweater looks hand knit, bright red with a green Christmas tree in the center. Balls of colorful fuzz decorate the tree as ornaments. “I want you to wear it every day,” he says.

“Over my dead body. I’d rather you help me take it off.”

Nesta’s hips feel especially snug against his as heat rushes to his crotch. She smirks like she caught him on a hook and leans in to whisper, “You look tired. Did you stay up thinking about my dress last night?”

Cassian swallows roughly. It might have crossed his mind a few times—not just the dress, but the fact that she had picked it out for him. He didn’t know that Nesta cared about things like that.

She rubs a thumb under his weary and reddened eyes. “After your anger faded, did you think about all the make-up sex we were going to have? Because I did.”

“Nesta,” he groans, dropping his head to rest against her chest. Either she plays him too well or he’s too easy to play, because Cassian is half a second away from damning everything to hell and dragging her to the living room carpet.

Until Nesta’s stomach growls loudly.

That’s when he remembers: it’s Christmas morning, he’s with the love of his life, and they’re both starving and sleep-deprived.

He looks up to find her eyes screwed shut in frustration. Before she can protest, he warns, “Don’t even think about it.” He pats her thighs. “Let’s get some food in you.”

***

Cassian makes them chocolate chip pancakes, and Nesta, feeling clingier than usual today, hangs piggyback off his body the entire time he cooks. She hasn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, yet she feels like she was born anew this morning.

In the middle of breakfast, Cassian’s phone vibrates. He hardly even glances at it before turning it over.

“Who was it?” Nesta asks through a mouthful of pancakes. She hasn’t asked him about how his own night went, but she expects that his friends will want to call and talk to him at some point today.

“Feyre,” he says without looking at her. “She asked where I went last night.”

“Why’re you ignoring her?” She raises a brow.

Cassian looks a little surprised. “I thought we were mad at her.”

“No.” Nesta sets her fork down. “I’m mad at her. What’s your excuse?”

He shrugs. “Solidarity. I’m mad that you had your Christmas Eve ruined. I know what it took you just to show up there.”

“You’re the only one that knows.” Nesta supposes that not everything has been cleared up with Cassian after all. “Listen,” she tries to soften her blunt tone. “Whatever is between me and my sisters… you don’t need to concern yourself with it. You’ll never have to choose sides between us.”

He watches her closely, carefully. “Even if I want to defend my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flutters at that inconsequential word, but she doesn’t show it. “Even then. Feyre looks at you like an older brother. I’m sure Elain does too, a little bit. Don’t let me get in the way of that.” He probably feels guilty every time he texts Feyre, the loyal bastard.

Cassian looks at his plate, then nods resolutely. “I can do that.” He adds a moment later, “For what it’s worth, I do get where the girls are coming from. Even if they had a shit way of going about it.” His eyes darken as he remembers.

Nesta doesn’t know what he was told about the fight, but she chuckles at his moody face anyway. “I expected you to. You’ve always loved spending time with your family, and you’ve never known anything different. But the reality is this: the closeness you have between you and your brothers isn’t something that can be forced onto every group of siblings. And the more Feyre and Elain try to force it, the more I push against it.”

“It sounds stifling.” His face is open, understanding. “To feel like you’re always too much but never enough.”

Nesta pauses, stunned. Cassian is almost too empathetic sometimes, like he carries a thousand past lives within him. Maybe he spent his time learning Nesta by heart in those lives.

Or maybe she’s getting too damn sentimental. She chokes out a dismissive laugh, going back to her pancakes. “Just text Feyre back. Then we can have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

***

Late morning brings heavy snowfall and a chill that infiltrates the walls of the cabin. The Christmas tree in the living room is lit—something Cassian didn’t notice earlier when he came downstairs to find Nesta in his house. Realizing that she’s the one who lit it up first thing in the morning does something to his chest, but he pushes the feeling down where it can’t scare Nesta away.

The weight of the past day must finally catch up to her, though, because by the time Cassian finishes lighting the fireplace, she’s knocked out asleep on the couch.

“No makeup sex then, Nes?” he says softly. Getting up from the hearth, he goes to pull the fur couch throw over her body. Cassian settles at the end of the couch near her feet, taking care so she doesn’t wake, and picks up his laptop from the coffee table. He’s been slacking with his work ever since he got with Nesta, and he might as well catch up on it now before Rhysand takes notice.

The first email that pops up in his inbox is a corporate reminder about the annual New Year’s Eve fundraiser gala, hosted in some high-class hotel in Denver this year. Cassian reads the email once, twice, three times before reaching for his phone.

Rhys answers on the first ring. “Oh, so you don’t hate us,” he drawls.

“What?” Cassian is confused.

“Because with the way you’ve been acting at family events lately, one would have reason to think you don’t want to be around your family much.”

“Oh—no, this isn’t about that.” Cassian refuses to let Rhys linger on this topic. “I called about the New Year’s party.”

“What about it?” he says. “Other than that tacky hotel.”

Cassian decides to spit it out. “I’m not coming.”

Rhys is stunned silent over the line for a moment. “What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Cassian never misses company events, no matter how much he hates dressing up and driving out to the city to schmooze with donors.

But too many of his holidays have gone to Rhys instead of Nesta this year, and he finds himself unwilling to give more.

“I’ve been stressed as hell lately,” he lies, trying to stay quiet for Nesta. “I’m always the one driving hours to see everyone else, and I can’t go all the way out to Denver for another party. I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” Rhys responds. “You have nothing going on at work and nothing going on outside of it. What could you be stressed about?”

Cassian makes a mental note to find a hobby that doesn’t include his brothers, if only so he can use it as an excuse to spend time with his secret girlfriend in the future. For now, he has to settle with the truth. “I can’t tell you.”

It’s a petty card to play, but it’s a valid one. No matter how nosy his family might be, they know how to back off when a line is drawn, no explanation required.

Rhys’s voice softens. “Is it serious? Is it a health issue?”

Cassian nearly laughs, even though he feels bad for making Rhys worry. “No, nothing like that. But I still can’t come.”

“What can I do to make it easier for you?” Rhys tries again. “New Year’s isn’t the same without all of my family in one place.”

Cassian snorts. “Come over to my place then.” He says it half-jokingly, but then Rhys doesn’t answer, as if he’s thinking.

“The gala guest list is too big to fit in the cabin…” he ponders. “But I guess I could have it narrowed down at the last minute. The Mayfairs certainly won’t be happy about it, though.”

Cassian’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Nesta’s sleeping form. “Uh…” He scrambles for something to get him out of this.

“New Year’s at a luxury cabin, all of us reuniting at your home for the first time in months? I love it,” Rhys declares. “Better than fucking Denver, that’s for sure.”

Cassian coughs, then covers it up with a forced chuckle. “I’ll have the place ready by next week.”

The call is over before he knows it, and all he can do is stare at the phone in his hand wondering what the hell just happened.

You didn’t entirely lose, he thinks to himself. You’re spending New Year’s with Nesta.

Yeah—New Year’s with Nesta and his entire family. He drops his head back against the couch and groans quietly.

***

Nesta wakes up late in the afternoon to Cassian presenting her with a mug of eggnog and bad news about New Year’s Eve.

The idea of another party, especially one with her sisters present, so soon after the last one makes Nesta’s very bones ache. But she supposes she’ll just have to take the next week to recover and prepare, because she isn’t missing out on a holiday with Cassian for anything.

The way she’s started romanticizing simple things like the new year should probably alarm her, but it doesn’t.

They sit down to open presents with the TV playing lowly in the background. It’s nothing serious, and Nesta isn’t expecting to get anything much until she unwraps her present.

It’s a vinyl record packaged in an elaborate sleeve with the words Nesta’s Mix etched across it. She slowly pulls the record out of the sleeve, staring at it. “What’s this?”

“It’s called a vinyl.”

She spears him with a look. “I got that. What’s on it?”

Cassian turns sheepish, sprawled out across from her on the carpet. “I stalked your Spotify to figure out what you listen to. Then I made a playlist based off what I thought you’d like and got it turned into vinyl. It’s all new music…” He trails off at the look on her face. “But if you hate it, the B-side has your favorite songs on there. You can listen to it either way.”

“I don’t hate it.” Nesta blinks her burning eyes rapidly, staring down at the gift in her hands. She’s not used to receiving thoughtful gifts—or pricey ones. “Thank you,” she says plainly, trying to let her feelings speak for themselves in those two words. “I love it.” She knows she should be saying more, damn it, but what can she say?

Cassian reaches out to put a hand on her knee, his thumb stroking circles across her leg. She looks up at him and realizes she doesn’t need words. Leaning forward, she lands a kiss on his cheek and can only hope that it’s sufficient. “Where am I going to play it?” she asks.

“I was close to getting you a record player when I remembered I already have one. I’ve never used it in my life.” He looks at her more gently now. “So it’s basically yours.”

Nesta’s chest tightens painfully. Not because he’s giving the record player to her, but because he’s suggesting they own it together.

“My present is going to look so stupid next to yours,” she says quietly.

Cassian grins. “Now I really need to see it.”

Nesta buries her head in her hands in humiliation while he tears open the wrapping paper of his gift, and only looks up when she hears him laugh aloud.

He’s holding a copy of one of Nesta’s favorite romances, and the first of many of her books that he’s ever stolen from her and read. He turns the vintage paperback around in his hands. “I remember this one. I totally had a sex dream about it.” He gazes in reminiscence at the busty blonde on the cover.

Nesta snorts, but scoots closer to him eagerly. “Look inside.”

He flips it open to find dark scribbles along the margins, in every single margin.

“I annotated it,” Nesta says hesitantly. “With my thoughts and analysis on each scene. It’s probably dumb to critically analyze a ninetie’s erotica novel, but I thought you’d find it funny.”

Cassian is flipping through the pages more slowly now, taking his time to read each one. “I don’t think it’s funny,” he says after a moment, his eyes still on the book. “I think it’s more than anything I could have asked for.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic for a romance book—”

“Not the book.” He looks up at her with something in his eyes. “It’s all your thoughts.” He looks back at the book in wonder. “Written out for me in detail to keep.”

He starts to smirk, searching for a specific page. “I already know how you feel about the boat scene, but now I need to read about it.”

Nesta makes a noise of protest, grabbing for the book. “Don’t spoil the good parts yet.” She can hardly believe it. He finds her joke present good. “You always spoil the good parts first and get sad about it later.”

He makes a face. “True.” He lowers the book, growing serious. “Nesta.” He clears his throat, and her heart starts pounding. She can hear the words before he says them—

“You’re a really good gift giver.”

Nesta’s breath shudders out of her, in relief or disappointment she doesn’t know. Cassian is still staring at her in amazement, and she can only respond by throwing herself at him, her arms holding him tight.

He doesn’t falter under her weight, but pulls her closer. “Thank you,” he says into her ear.

She pulls back far enough to see him. His beautiful face is outlined with too many emotions for her to read, yet somehow she knows exactly what he’s feeling.

Overwhelmed, she leans in to place a soft kiss above his upper lip, then on his mouth. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Nesta.”

***

please tell me if you wanna be removed from the taglist so i can make space for other readers!

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens

#ncssianwrites #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #a favor #nessian fic

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carnationcreation · 4 years ago

Text

Dream buddy (Adam Park x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Please check bio to see if requests are open before sending any in!

Request: (wattpad @pezzbosch) Can you please write an imagine of Adam being worried about his crush because she’s going through something personal that she won’t talk about? And the crush is just super scattered all the time and losing focus in almost everything she does until someone finally gets her to talk about what’s going on?

Prompt/summary: Adam goes a little overboard worrying about his crush

Word Count: 1,502

Authors note: (Ready Now by dodie is the vibe for this) Thanks so much for your request bb! If y’all haven’t read @pezzbosch ‘s fanfic Twenty Four Seven then I totally recommend to go check that out of you’re a power rangers fan :)

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

Adam wished he’d noticed it sooner.

He should’ve known the first day she turned down going to Earnies. She would never turn down a chance to get her favorite mini tacos on a normal day, especially after a day she had gym class.

He just wished he would’ve noticed her pushing them away sooner.

The first time he got the hint something was wrong was the Monday morning back from spring break. She showed up to school tired and almost fell asleep during first block pre-calculus. (Y/n) might not enjoy that class that much but she never got caught sleeping in class, ever.

He watched her pull an energy drink out of her bag and drink almost half of it in a few gulps.

“Woah,” Adam said, pulling the drink away, “Slow down there. You don’t want to drink it all in one go.”

“Adam, I am so tired I will fight you for that drink.”

He rolled his eyes, “If you’re that tired you wouldn’t last more than a few seconds. Why are you drinking this? You hate energy drinks.”

“I just… didn’t get that much sleep last night,” (Y/n) sighed.

Adam placed the can back on the desk, “I’m sorry, why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Just couldn’t,” she said, the end of class bell rang and (Y/n) quickly gathered her things, “See ya in gym!”

He really started to worry when she didn’t show up for their first class the next day. He was so used to seeing her bright smile when he would sit down next to her that today felt like the world was a little duller. Class seemed to roll by slowly as he stared at the clock and the door waiting for her to come in, but she never did.

Lunch time came and there was still no sign of her. As he sat down next to Rocky and Tommy they noticed his mood had shifted a lot since they saw him yesterday.

“You okay Adam?” Tommy said.

“Have either of you seen (Y/n)?”

“No, we haven’t seen your girlfriend,” Rocky said, causing Adam’s eyes to go wide.

“She- she’s not my girlfriend guys,” he said shyly.

“You guys sure act like it.”

Adam slapped Rocky’s fork out of his hand with his own, “We’re not dating. I just haven’t seen her all morning and I’m starting to worry.”

“Yeah cause you have a big fat crush on her,” Rocky grinned.

“Stop it Rocky,” Tommy sighed.

“Fine,” Rocky huffed and picked his fork back up from the tray.

“Anyways, we haven’t seen (Y/n) since gym class yesterday,” Tommy said.

“I might stop by her house after school to check on her, it’s not like her to miss class and not tell me.”

“Yeah cause she has a big fat crush on you,” Rocky muttered.

“Rocky!”

“What?! It’s true!”

Adam sighed, “She doesn’t have a crush on me.”

Rocky rolled his eyes, “Well then why is she walking over here first instead of to Kat and Tanya?”

Adam turned around quickly and spotted the girl walking towards the group of boys, he smiled widely as she sat down beside him.

“What’s with the energy drink (Y/n)?” Rocky asked.

“What? Oh- I… stayed up late to finish a project.”

Adam looked at her confused, “We don’t have any projects in our classes, is it for your English class?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said with a fake smile.

“Oh, okay,” Adam said. He knew she was lying, but he was hurt that she felt like she had to.

By the weekend (Y/n) seemed to be back to normal. She was on time for classes again and went to hang out at Earnies. Yet there was still something… weird going on.

Even though she was her usual cheery sunshine self, Adam noticed when the others were talking amongst themselves she would look off with an almost blank look on her face. When she would talk her sentences would trail off or not make sense completely. The others pretended they didn’t notice but it was starting to become clear that something was wrong with their friend.

Adam decided he needed to know what was going on.

He got to school early enough so that he could catch (Y/n) at her locker. As he walked through the halls he thought of a million different answers he might get from his friend, or crush really. He’d always been infatuated with her since she sat next to him in Chemistry last year, the ball of sunshine in the class.

As he rounded the corner he saw (Y/n) quickly shove a white bottle into her locker before shutting it and shouldering her bag.

“What was that?” he said, she jumped slightly and spun around.

“Adam!” she said, “Geeze you scared me. What’s up?”

“What’d you put in your locker?” he said.

“Oh just my binder.”

“It looked like a bottle-”

“Adam we really need to get to class,” (Y/n) said.

“Why are you lying to me?”

She sighed, “I’m not.”

“What was in the bottle?” he said, the firmness in his tone made her look down to the floor.

“I- um,” she tried to speak but the tears that formed in her eyes stopped her.

“(Y/n),” Adam said gently, placing his hand on her shoulder, “you can tell me anything.”

She turned the lock on her locker and opened it, and sitting on the top shelf was a pristine looking white bottle full of caffeine pills.

“(Y/n)-”

Tears were falling down her face and he pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” he said, rubbing circles into her back.

“I just- there’s these dreams, well, nightmares I keep having. I wake up panicking but I’ll sit and think and think about it but I just can’t remember it. How am I supposed to stop them when I can’t remember them?”

“I’m sure all that caffeine isn’t helping. Those aren’t good for you (Y/n).”

“I know I know, but it’s better than falling asleep in class.”

“I know, but nothing can replace sleep,” Adam said. He pulled away to gently brush some of her hair back, “I think I have an idea.”

Adam ended up dragging her out of school and to his car, from there they drove to the mall in town.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Adam said.

The mall wasn’t that busy considering it was an early morning on a weekday. Adam lead her by the hand through the mall to the back where the toy store stood. (Y/n)’s eyes went wide with excitement before looking at him with a puzzled look.

“We’re gonna get you a dream buddy.”

“A what?”

“A dream buddy, to bring you some sweet dreams.”

(Y/n) giggled and pulled him into the store. Lining the walls were various toys and figures but towards the back were giant bins of different kinds of stuffed animals of different shapes and sizes.

“What about this one?” Adam said, holding up an elephant half as big as him.

“I think that’s a little big, don’t you think?” she giggled.

“Hmmm.... maybe.”

He dug through the bins a little more, “This one?”

It was a frog made out of a shiny fabric material.

“Um… I don’t really like the frog.”

Adam sighed, “No one ever does.”

(Y/n) dug through the other bin for a while, carefully looking over each animal. Finally she reached the bottom and gasped out.

“This one!”

She pulled out the stuffed figure to show it to him. It was a stuffed rabbit with light brown fur and big floppy ears.

“What do you think?” she asked.

Adam smiled, “I think it looks like a great dream buddy.”

The next day when Adam walked into class, (Y/n) smiled at him.

It wasn’t fake, or tired looking. It was the same smile that made his heart flutter since the first time they met.

Class went by as usual until the bell for lunch finally rang, (Y/n) grabbed Adam’s hand and led him in the opposite direction from the cafeteria.

“Where are we going?” he said.

(Y/n) didn’t answer until she opened her locker. She pulled out the same rabbit they bought yesterday. Today it had a red heart with the letter “A” sewn onto the paw.

“I named her Sunny,” she smiled.

“I guess it helped last night?” he asked.

“Amazingly. Thank you so much Adam,” she said, pulling him into a hug.

He smiled, “I’m just glad I got my sunshine girl back.”

She pulled back but kept her arms locked around his neck. Her smile gave him butterflies, but when she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek his heart almost stopped. She giggled at his wide eyes, “I can’t be a sunshine girl without my sky guy.”

“Sky guy?”

“Yup.”

He chuckled.

“Because there’s nowhere else I'd rather be.”

It was his chance to lean in, but this time it was a sweet kiss on her lips.

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

*If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name please message me!

Taglist:

@thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @larrystylinson-sus @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @nicolewithasoul @homealone200 @hemmingsness @persephonequeenofthedead @bookfrog242 @itz-jas @smol-book-nerd @thewifeofhades @igotissuesmister @carnations-red @disgustedchild

#Power Rangers #power rangers imagine #adam park #adam park imagine #Mighty Morphin Power Rangers #mighty morphin power rangers imagine #adam park x reader #power rangers zeo #power rangers zeo imagine #rocky desantos #tommy oliver

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justletmeplayminecraft · 5 years ago

Text

xisuma doesn’t smooth over a server glitch fast enough. the others have to save him from the consequences.

in this fic, i play loosely with minecraft mechanics to create angst. very loosely. don’t think too much about ‘em. you can also date how long i’ve spent on this by the projects they’re working on.

featuring: being an admin gives you a connection to the server, xisuma has a less than stellar day, angst/comfort, zed is an ender hybrid, false & tango are minor admins, getting stuck in blocks is not a fun experience, the hermits care a lot about each other.

warnings: sensory deprivation, starvation, suffocation, its a death loop babyyy, a fair amount of panic, fighting code, glitches, helplessness, it’s pretty whumpy before the comfort. let me know if something’s missing here.

also on ao3. link in replies.

Xisuma sighs as the sun beats down on him. It's barely let up, even on the outskirts of the jungle. He enjoys the brief stints in the shadow of the giant quartz walls. Even then, waves of heat come off them. All of the structures in his base are a heat trap. Clearing out several layers of dirt and stone is a necessity he should've left for another day. With a click, he tugs his helmet off his head. The humidity outside is worse than his filtered air. He tucks the helmet under his arm, pushing sweat slicked hair from his face.

He's made good progress levelling this arena space. He leaves his helmet on his bed and heads to the temporary storage chests. They're filling up quickly, he notices, as he starts emptying his inventory into them. Except, something's broken. The stacks of blocks aren't all moving. He tries a few times before sighing, ruffling his hair. When he turns to the area he's been mining, it's still empty. It's been a long time since they've had desync this bad. He's not even sure when it started.

Stepping gently across the stone, he can feel the heat rising from them. He'll rollback the world and then he'll relax by Keralis's river. The farm is delightfully cool. Anything will be better than this oppressive heat.

He's almost reached his bed when something takes hold in his chest and pulls.

He stumbles forward with a gasp. Of course, the server decides to fix itself this time. He forces his feet forward, trying to reach his helmet so he can smooth things over. He only makes it two steps until his eyes are forced shut as the server reloads. For a split second, all he feels is the chill of the void as chunks reload around him.

He opens his eyes to darkness. It feels like he's suspended in space, unable to move. There's a suffocating pressure around him. Though it's with shallow breaths, he can still breathe. Did something go wrong? He blinks hard. All of his limbs are accounted for, he's certainly present. Even when he's working in the void there are still particles around him. His attempt to raise his arm fails, finding it impossible to open his back up admin panel. His helmet is- where even is his helmet?

His breath hitches, a feeling of panic escaping his controlled calm. He feels like he can't breathe. He can't move. He's trapped in his own body.

What's happening?

[MumboJumbo] anybody else just experience some major desync?

[Keralis1] Oh, is that what that was?

[Zedaph] I had nearly finished my redstone! All of that work, gone!

[FalseSymmetry] didn't you notice you weren't actually... losing anything from your inventory?

[Tango] he was probably too caught up in his supposed mastery

[FalseSymmetry] everybody okay though?

[Grian] all good here!

[Zedaph] Only my pride's wounded.

False looks down at the bedrock layer at her base. Like half an hour spent placing glass, all gone to waste. She groans, closing her chat as it pings away. Sure, she can rib Zedaph, but that doesn't change the fact she just did the exact same thing. She kicks off the sidewalk, gliding to the bedrock layer. She can feel the cold of the void float up with specks of grey.

"Good going, False," she murmurs. Some patches of glass survived. It's almost worse, that's going to be so much less satisfying to fill in. She takes her goggles off, tugging her hair loose to tie it in a low ponytail. Usually Xisuma gives them a warning before the server resets like that. It always messes up her hair, leaves it floaty and static.

She adjusts her goggles on her head, opening the player menu. Xisuma's currently online. She checks chat. He hasn't said anything. She considers it strange, but it's not unusual. Maybe he's been at a farm and isn't AFKing. She types out a private message, sending it across to him.

[FalseSymmetry to Xisuma] hey x, server blipped, might need to check it when you get back.

She'll see if he returns her message. She's got glass to place.

Iskall looks through his in-progress sorting system with a frown. It's broken somewhere. The stupid server reload has glitched it out and he can't find how. He's checked the redstone, he's checked the hoppers and he's checked the chests! Which means it's glitched. Either Xisuma reloads the chunk for him, or he's going to have to tear it down.

Actually, he'll probably have to tear it down anyway. Reloading the chunk will only roll it back.

At least he's not the only person who's redstone has been ruined. The thought brings some comfort. If he has to be miserable, somebody else should be too. He opens his communicator, checking who's around at the moment. That might take his mind off it.

He notices that Xisuma's online. Their admin has been quiet in chat since the reload. Maybe there's something going on behind the scenes he's having to sort out. He'll reach out to Mumbo and Grian, but first, he sends a message X's way.

[iskall85 to Xisuma] hey is everything alright? nothing broke?

[iskall85 to Xisuma] don't forget you can reach out to us if you need help.

He has no idea how much time has passed. Usually he's connected intrinsically to the server. It helps him keep track of the world, dig out any errors or mishaps - sometimes before his suit alerts him. It's essential for his job in order to keep things running smoothly. The server is always there, at the edges of his consciousness.

In this nothing, he can't even keep track of his internal clock. Perhaps it's his own panic, but the code he tries to reach out to feels fuzzy. It feels like it's glitching, sending shooting pains through his head if he focuses too hard. He couldn't take a guess how long he's been trapped. His breathing still comes too fast and shallow, ignoring his attempts to calm down.

He's completely helpless here. And he doesn't even know where here is.

Tango stares up at the stars on his ceiling. He checks his inventory again, counting aloud. He flicks it off with a frown. Yeah, he's definitely missing some. It's not a massive deal, Impulse will be happy to help out. But if he's having problems then some of the other hermits might be. Perhaps they fell and despawned in the reload. Either way.

"Tangoooooo!" The cry is accompanied by several rockets, something hitting the ground and the sound of damage. He chuckles, stepping away as Zed soars over the edge, stumbling forward with a flutter of his elytra. Tango straightens him up with his free hand.

"No, I'm not doing your redstone for you." Zedaph gasps, dusting off his jeans. He bounces up with a grin.

"You really think I'd come all this way for that?" Zed questions.

"So why have you come all the way here?"

"I'm bored," Zed replies. "And it still stings too much to do my redstone again." Tango laughs, opening up his chat. Xisuma's online, though Tango doesn't expect an immediate response.

"How do you feel about some wither grinding?" He types a message to Xisuma, Zedaph attempting to peer over his shoulder.

"Mmm, I don't see why not."

[Tango to Xisuma] Hey, seem to have lost some stars when the server reset

[Tango to Xisuma] might wanna check nothing important got eaten.

"Right, let's go."

Keralis hums, staring at the plot he was about to start building on. The area has been a bit... Funny. He'll break and replace a block, only to have it switch again. He might have to work on another area until it sorts itself out. His attempts at working here started after the reload, so he doesn't know if that caused it. He's not been able to spot Xisuma nearby either. He's been online, but Keralis hasn't spotted him in chat for a while.

He sighs as he watches the last blocks he placed switch back as if nothing happened. Crossing his arms, he examines the area. He wonders how big this is. Definitely more than one chunk. His new house is going to have to wait. He was excited to show Xisuma around, too.

With a glance at the sky, he realises it's late afternoon. He yawns, stretching his back out. Perhaps it'll be best to settle in his office and work on some future designs. He'll drop a message in chat first, in case this is affecting anyone else. It might give him an excuse to hunt down Shishwamy. He always feels guilty bothering him about things. Their admin takes far too much responsibility on his shoulders. They’re all adults. Keralis wishes he’d ask for help sometimes.

[Keralis1] Has anyone else been having glitchy blocks?

[iskall85] some of my redstone is broken but it's no biggie

[Tango] lost some of my nether stars with the reload but it's been fine since.

[FalseSymmetry] been placing glass without any problems since the reset

[MumboJumbo] I haven't had any problems either.

[Keralis1] A bunch of chunks around our bases are glitching

[Keralis1] but it seems like Shishwamy is busy :(

[Grian] well it looks like he just went afk

[iskall85] that answers that lol

His mind is becoming blurry. It's hard to focus on... Anything. He can't tell if it's because he's struggling to breathe, or something further, tugging him down and away. He tries to fight against it but there's nothing he can do to stay present. He can't hear anything, barely even his shallow breaths. He can only feel the consistent pressure on every inch of his body, the wet tears on his cheeks. He tries pulling on every one of his senses, but nothing comes up.

He slips under.

False empties the last of this glass stack, stepping back at a job well done. She smiles, rubbing her aching hands. It's nice to finally work on this part of her base. Even better now it's not going to pick itself up. At least she hopes so. She'll be right annoyed if it happens again. Something's been tingling at the back of her head, though. She wonders if it's because of the reset.

She looks up at the late afternoon sky. That's enough work for today. As she stretches, she can feel each and every ache in her body. She brushes away her hair, already falling loose. Maybe she'll have something nice for dinner. Some steak, potatoes and pumpkin pie. If she has pumpkin, of course. Xisuma was planning to build a pumpkin farm, wasn't he? His traditional pumpkin and melon combination. She chuckles to herself as she pulls out her rockets.

No matter how things change from season to season, there will always be things that don't. Hermits might come and go, but they'll always be her family.

She launches up, shooting through the water barrier. It's fast enough it doesn't stick. She lands gracefully, making her way to the kitchen. She hopes this nudging in her head doesn't get worse. She just wants to enjoy a nice meal. That's all.

"Well, I think we have a plan," Grian declares, grinning from his perch. His legs are crossed, hands resting in his lap.

"I mean, we didn't exactly need a plan to fix our redstone," Mumbo replies, slouched in his chair the way he only ever does in front of them. Iskall chuckles, resting his hands behind his head. They've really helped take his mind off the broken redstone. Mumbo had a similar problem, so tomorrow they'll meet up again and attempt some fixes.

"Always helps," Iskall says, shrugging. "Especially when one of us spends so much time in the Nether depths, now." Grian laughs, his legs kicking.

"Hey, I'm doing good work out there!" Mumbo yawns, looking between them.

"Well I don't know about you two, but I'm exhausted."

"Food then sleep?" Grian suggests. Iskall nods. It's been a long day.

It's dark as Zedaph and Tango return from The End. Zedaph yawns, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. Tango rubs the side of his own hair. Something's been bothering him, but he can't tell what. Like there's something just not... Right. Zedaph is chatting beside him, a bounce in his step. It's like he doesn't feel it at all.

"Do you want to have dinner together?" Zed asks, twirling his sword by his side. They've repaired their tools, done everything properly. It's been a hard day's work, but they've achieved a lot, even with the setback.

"Yeah, dinner sounds good." He looks at the night sky, squinting his eyes. Zedaph tilts his head at him. The purple eyes are concerned, particles floating up in his worry.

"Tango, are you okay? You seem... Off." Tango sighs, waving Zedaph's worry away.

"Something's nagging me. It's not a big deal." Zedaph's still frowning, but the particles die down.

"Let's just get you something to eat, yeah?" Tango nods, leaning into Zedaph when he squeezes his shoulder.

"Sounds good to me."

Keralis watches the night sky overhead. He's sat in the doorway to his office, a blanket around his shoulders. The stars are always a beautiful sight. It's the perfect way to relax after such a, hm, busy day. Not busy in a conventional sense, no, but still busy. His specially commissioned noteblock song plays in the background, a perfect accompaniment in the peaceful night. He thinks it's strange how the stars always seem the same no matter what world they're in. Maybe he should ask Xisuma about it in the future.

He pops up his screens open. Xisuma is still afk. He misses seeing his neighbour out and about. Xisuma often spends time at his farms, it's nothing new. But Keralis enjoys saying hello to him! Especially after missing well... Years of his life. He tries not to think about that.

With a sigh, he lies against the doorway. Time for bed soon. He laughs at the sound of Bubbles' voice in his head. His communicator beeps and he glances over to it.

Huh. That's interesting.

Xisuma is thrown into full consciousness. His stomach is still cramping with phantom hunger. He opens his eyes and finds...

Black.

No, no, he died. He died. Why has he respawned here? He chokes on his sob, realising no air is entering his lungs. His cheeks are still wet with tears, more leaking out as he gasps at nothing. His lungs burn, unable to take the shallow breaths he needs to. Would it even help? He wants to curl up, clutch at the growing pain in his chest. But he can't move an inch. Heaviness sinks into his limbs and head.

He wakes again in the same place. He doesn't know if he wants to scream or cry. There's not enough air for him to scream, anyway.

[Xisuma starved to death]

[MumboJumbo] X?? mate?

[Tango] X?

[FalseSymmetry] do we need to get your stuff?

[Keralis1] I'm by his base.

[Tango] he's not afk anymore

[Grian] x???????

[iskall85] maybe he's getting his stuff rn

[Keralis1] Shishwammmmyyyyyyy

[MumboJumbo] starving isn't a nice way to go

[Zedaph] It really isn't.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[iskall85] oh no

[FalseSymmetry] x???? im going over

[Keralis1] so am i

[Tango] this isn't right, this really isn't right

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Grian] what's going on???

False shimmies back into her elytra, reaching for the one jacket potato that finished cooking. So much for having a sit-down meal. She rubs her head, pushing away the fear that has something to do with this. Her communicator continues beeping as she grabs her rockets. She runs to the entrance, kicking off and launching into the air.

"We should go and help," Iskall decides, already picking up his armour.

"Thought you'd never say." Mumbo straps his elytra on, grabbing a spare shulker box and an ender chest. Grian nods with a seriousness that doesn't fit on his face.

"Let's go."

"We're going?" Zed asks. He's already stuffing food into his mouth. Tango rubs his temples, nodding. He takes the elytra that's thrusted into his hand.

"Yeah. We're definitely going." He watches the particles floating off Zed in waves, glowing the same purple as his pupils. Tango presses his eyes shut against another spike of pain as their communicators beep. "C'mon."

Keralis scrabbles until he balances on the tower roof. He's searched each one and not found X anywhere. Tapping his foot, he meddles with his communicator to turn some settings on. He has no minor admin powers - that he has to leave to False and Tango - but he can at least try this.

"Ah-hah!" He grins as hitboxes light up beneath him, hopefully a better clue where his currently red coloured friend may be. He scans the towers closely, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. There are a few mobs, especially as night sets in. Then he sees Xisuma's new build.

He has to take a step back at the sight. The chunks look- a mess. The outline of the blocks are overlapped or flickering. It hurts to look at. Blocks aren't meant to highlight like that. He glides across the treetops. It not only covers the area he was trying to work earlier but spreads into Xisuma's current build. Yeah that's- that's bad. That's not good. His communicator has continued to beep with messages as he searched. He goes to read it, and spots different colours in the mess. The red of an eyeline. He stands on his toes, leaning off the leaves. The outline flickers in and out, accompanied by a beep.

He thinks he's found X.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Keralis1] he's in his new build!

[Keralis1] I think I can see him in the ground

[Keralis1] it is very very broken

[FalseSymmetry] tango? you on your way?

[Tango] as we speak

[Tango] been a long time since we've had to use these powers

[FalseSymmetry] not long enough

Tango and Zedaph are the first to land by Keralis's side. They kick up loose powder from the road, taking in the massive structure in front of them. Tango's shoulders raise, cringing at the sight.

"That's definitely broken," he agrees, his eyes twisting as they focus.

"And Xisuma's in the middle of it?" Zedaph looks at Keralis. He nods, usually big eyes sharply focused. He points beyond the walls.

"You can just see his name tag. I think the glitched blocks have got him stuck. I tried to build there earlier but nothing would stay." Tango presses his lips together in thought as False lands. They nod to each other in acknowledgement.

"How long does it take until the blocks pop back?"

Keralis hums, tapping his chin before answering, "About ten seconds, I think."

"That's not going to be enough time to reach him," Zed says. "Can't you just teleport him?" He looks at Tango and False. Tango opens his console menu, typing something in. Zed can tell the answer before Tango says it.

"What ideas do we have?" Keralis asks. "We can't just leave him there!"

"Of course not!" Tango replies, sounding shocked at the suggestion. "We just- need a plan." False nods.

"We're not as powerful as X," she explains, "Together we should be able to roll back these chunks but- I have no idea what that would mean for Xisuma. We don't really work with player code." She brushes her hair back. The conversation is paused as the trio of Grian, Iskall and Mumbo land beside them. The three slot in, listening as they're caught up.

"There has to be something that's making him spawn there." Iskall points out, his hand held towards the structure. False searches through the control panel, whilst Keralis and Tango simply examine the messed up blocks.

"He has a bed in there," Tango answers. False taps where Xisuma's spawn is tied to on her screen.

"Since the blocks are glitched, it must mean the bed isn't like... Registering them. Since they don't fully exist." She thinks about it carefully, putting the pieces together as she explains.

"So if we break the bed, he'll respawn at the world spawn?" Grian suggests.

"But how do we get down there?" Mumbo turns to look. It's pretty far down in the ground. They'd have to move quick to get near where Xisuma is.

"There's a few of us." Iskall waves at the gathered group. "I say with enough TNT and manpower, we could do it."

"Wait-" Zedaph holds his hand up, "-Get me close enough and I can teleport in there, get the bed. Less blocks to destroy."

"Zed." Tango turns to him, glaring at the blond. "That's a stupid idea, don't you get how dangerous that is-"

"Xisuma is stuck in a death loop, Tango!" Zed cuts in, raising his voice. The others fall silent, not sure how to handle this exchange. "Sure, I might die a bit! That's nothing compared to what Xisuma's currently experiencing."

"TNT will destroy a fair amount, but it already puts us on a time limit," Grian adds, a sideways agreement.

"I'm willing to do it. Either we reach the bed, or I teleport in." Zed says it with finality. The others don't argue. False checks his spawn point. Zedaph will respawn back in his cave, safe and sound. Even if it goes wrong, it'll be recoverable.

"We need to be ready to roll back the chunks," False says, focusing on Tango. "If I have this headache for much longer I'm going to go insane." Tango smiles tiredly.

"Fine. Let's try this." He shrugs. "I don't think we have a better idea."

"Well, come on! Let's go!" Keralis claps, placing an ender chest. Tango sighs, typing in a command.

"I think I'm allowed this time," he says, a stack of TNT appearing in his hand.

"And other times?" Grian asks. Even through the teasing, they can hear the fear in his voice.

"Don't push it."

There's noises. He blinks his eyes open into the unending darkness. He tries to focus past his burning chest and the weight of his body. There's... Definitely noises up above him. It sounds like explosions. The space he's stuck in shakes slightly. After another lapse, he gasps back to life in the same position. He wants to scream, tell somebody he's down here. This opportunity might not come again.

Then he feels a sharp stab of pain. Something is there, near him. Everything hurts and he still can't breathe. For a moment, he thinks he hears the trill of an Enderman. His tired mind can't figure out how as he runs out of air.

He wakes up to a chill. He slightly opens his eyes, spotting yellow sand as he falls, blacking out.

[Xisuma suffocated]

[Zedaph suffocated]

[Grian] have we done it?

[Keralis1] he's at worldspawn! got him!

[iskall85] YES!!!

[Zedaph] Oh thank goodness I don't want to do that again

[World reloaded]

[Tango] Z, you okay?

[Zedaph] I'm good. Bring my stuff? I'm going to worldspawn

[FalseSymmetry] will do

"Keralis!" Zedaph's elytra beats as he lands, feet digging into the sand. "Is he okay?" Keralis nods. Xisuma's head is resting in his lap. The admin's eyes are closed as he breathes slowly. His expression is relaxed. It's a good sight to see. The spawn island is lit up well, but Keralis keeps his eye on the surrounding oceans.

"He's sleeping," Keralis says, messing with strands of brown hair. "I don't think I'm strong enough to move him on my own." Zedaph drops onto the sand next to them, crossing his legs. There are still bright particles floating off him, his eyes fully purple. "What about you, Zee?" Zedaph seems to notice Keralis's focus, ducking away to hide his eyes.

"Um, not the best. That kind of sucked. But, it worked, and that's what matters!"

"Make sure you look after yourself, too," Keralis tells him. "Fighting the server's code isn't easy." Zedaph laughs, resting on his hands.

"Can say that again. Forgot we have anti-enderman griefing." Keralis cringes, realising why Zed looks so much like he might collapse. It'll pass, but it's never fun to go against programming like that. The architech trio arrives next. All of them look relieved to see the three on the island.

"Oh, Zedaph, I have your stuff." Mumbo starts emptying it out, the few things Zedaph couldn't fit in an ender chest. Zedaph smiles, tugging his helmet on and feeling a lot more comfortable. He tries not to meet anybody's eyes.

"Tango and False will be on their way. They're just checking everything's good," Grian tells them, hands moving quickly as he talks.

"Should we try moving X somewhere safer?" Iskall suggests. "The shopping district isn't that far."

"If you're willing to boat him." Keralis is firm. "I don't want him dropped in the ocean."

"I swear nothing will happen to him under our watch." Grian puts his hand on his heart. Iskall and Mumbo nod in agreement.

"It'll be the safest boat journey on the server." Iskall's hands are on his hips. Keralis tilts his head up.

"Look into my eyes and nothing but my eyes, if anything happens to my Shishwamy, I will not hold back." The architechs look suitably threatened.

"Can I boat with someone?" Zedaph asks. "I nearly crashed so many times flying over here."

"Hop in the back of mine!" Iskall calls, placing one in the water. Grian plucks Xisuma into his arms, carrying him to the edge of the water. He sets the admin in the boat before climbing in himself. Keralis checks him over before nodding and allowing Grian to keep him.

"I've told the others to meet us there," Mumbo says. "I'm going to fly across and see where's best to bunker down. I think we could all use some sleep."

Zedaph looks at the moon hanging overhead, "Yeah, I think we could."

[MumboJumbo] we're heading to the shopping district.

[FalseSymmetry] thats a good plan

[MumboJumbo] any idea who's shop we could stay in?

[FalseSymmetry] my dimension shop is pretty empty

[FalseSymmetry] plenty of room for some beds. pretty warm.

[Tango] we'll get it set up for you

[MumboJumbo] ok. ill protect the others

[Keralis1] so will I.

The first thing Xisuma picks up on is the talking. He stays still, trying to tell if his brain is playing tricks on him after so long in the nothing. His body is like a rock. He's barely able to move. His lungs still ache and it takes some conscious effort to continue breathing. He blinks his eyes open, wincing at bright lights. Light. There's light. He rolls forward, a sob leaving his lips before he can catch it.

"Xisuma, hey, hey." The voice is soft, casting a shadow over him. Xisuma forces his eyes open now the worst of the brightness is blocked out. Keralis is crouching in front of the bed. His fingers gently brush across Xisuma's cheek. For once, Xisuma doesn't feel the dried tears that had become his constant. "You're okay, you're safe. We got you." Xisuma takes a shaking breath in, squeezing his arms to feel the pressure of his own touch.

"Do you want your helmet?" He flits to look at False. The mere sight of his helmet is overwhelming. He reaches out and wraps it close to his chest. Keralis laughs gently, scratching through Xisuma's hair. The admin sighs, his eyes slipping closed once more.

"There you go." He can hear the smile in Keralis's voice. "We've got you, right here." The sound of movement. Cracking his eyes open reveals False sitting in front of the bed, weaving her hand into Xisuma's. He squeezes it gently.

"You're in my shop, in the shopping district," she tells him. "It's past midnight. You're completely safe here. We've got things sorted, there's nothing you need to worry about." A tear slips from his eye. Keralis wipes it away.

"What happened?" He can't make his voice louder than a whisper, and even that hurts.

"Something went wrong with the world reload," False tells him. He can trust her not to sugarcoat things. "We all had a few bugs, but the chunks around you glitched out badly. Created a bunch of like... Invisible blocks, but they were visible, if you get what I mean? They weren't fully there. Ugh, Tango's better at all this technical stuff." Xisuma tries to peer around for him, but the light still hurts if he looks for too long.

"You were stuck in a bunch of them," Keralis finishes. "We didn't realise until you starved and got stuck in a death loop. I'm really sorry, Xisuma."

"We broke your bed to get you out. Well, Zedaph did. The others got him close enough then Tango and I fixed the area. It's all sorted." Xisuma forces his sluggish brain to put the pieces together. He didn't dream up that enderman sound. That was-

"He's over there, sleeping. Tango's with him." Keralis points at a bed nearby. Tango's back blocks any sight of their part Ender friend, but Xisuma can see purple particles floating into the air. A concerning amount of them.

"What did Zed do?" He asks, the vice around his lungs tightening in concern.

"Um," Keralis answers, False looking at him. "He mentioned fighting the anti-enderman griefing code? So I think he picked the bed up." Xisuma's stomach drops. He tries to push himself up but collapses onto his back again.

"Hey, X, careful," False warns. Her voice is stern but Xisuma shakes his head.

"No- I-" He shuts his eyes, fighting off disorientation. "The server's going to keep fighting him. I've got to reset it." False helps him sit up, but she still watches him with concern. He picks up his helmet, pulling it on and relaxing slightly as all the displays flicker to life. Now when he looks at Zedaph he can see the extent of the damage. His very code seems to be fighting itself. "Help me up?"

False gets an arm around his chest. He ends up leaning his weight against her to stand, his legs shaking. She's firm, grip only tightening to accommodate his need. Keralis hovers nearby, ready to jump in if he has to. They take slow steps across the room. Xisuma strains to see under the light, but the tint of his helmet helps. He can see the architechs sat nearby, watching without any attempt at discretion.

Tango looks up as they approach. Xisuma can see the resignation on his face.

"This isn't going to fix itself, is it?" He asks. His hand in clasped tightly in Zedaph's, whose usually bright expression is twisted in pain. His skin is all too pale, black freckles spreading into larger patches across his face. He doesn't open his eyes, not even as Tango moves so Xisuma can sit down. The grip on each other's hand remains tight.

"I need to reset the code that's attacking him," Xisuma explains. His words have a tired slur he can't quite hide. "I'm gonna write an exception, I can't believe I haven't already just- not right now. Don't wanna do it wrong."

"Xisuma, it's okay." Tango smiles, pinched but genuine. "I'm sorry you need to do this." Xisuma shakes his head.

"It's nobody's fault," False says, "Do what you need to do, X. Then you're going back to bed." Keralis hums in agreement. Xisuma laughs softly as the command screens in his helmet boot up.

He zones out the others around him, leaning on Keralis's shoulder when his friend perches beside him. He scrolls through information as he brings up Zedaph's data on one screen. With one eye on it, he unlocks the data packs, searching through them. He gives voice instructions with his microphone muted to the outside world. Finding the pack he needs, he disables it and checks Zedaph's data. It looks like his code is straightening out again. Thank goodness. He makes sure all activity is deactivated before he turns the pack back on.

"That should do it," he mumbles, before realising his microphone is still off. He reactivates it before repeating himself.

"Maybe you should teach us a bit more sometime," False squeezes his shoulder, helping him up. Xisuma slings his arm over False with a nod. That would be good.

"Thank you, X." Tango smiles. He rubs his thumb across Zedaph's hand. The ender hybrid has relaxed, face slack. It looks like he's properly sleeping now. Xisuma can finally rest.

"Come on. Don't you fall asleep here, I don't want to carry you across." Xisuma hums, too tired to commit to any words. Before he knows it, he's sitting down on the comfortable bed again.

"Shishwam, lemme get your helmet." Xisuma nods, tilting his head up so Keralis can unlatch it and bring it off. His head rolls onto his shoulder the moment it's gone. Keralis giggles, ruffling his hair. "Come on, sleepy time." False lies him down, his helmet tucked safely in his arms. Keralis's hand slips into his. Xisuma shuts his eyes, before blinking them open again.

"Stay?" He asks, too tired to worry about being needy. He doesn't want to be alone in that darkness again.

"Of course," False replies.

"We're not going anywhere," Keralis adds. Xisuma smiles at them both, eyes slipping closed. The darkness is manageable with his friends by his side.

"Don't you dare wake them up," False hisses, watching as Grian and Iskall play with redstone. The morning sun is beginning to shine through the cracks in the windows. She's exhausted, having only caught a quick nap. Keralis is asleep next to Xisuma, sitting on the floor with his head resting on the bed. Tango's slid into bed beside Zedaph, holding him close to his chest. Mumbo's dead to the world across the room.

"We won't!" Grian calls, trying to figure out the game he could make out of this mechanic. Iskall has a Statues book open, an armour stand sat in front of a piston.

"You know, this would be a lot easier if the two people who have done this with armour stands were helping," Iskall points out, flicking through the pages.

"We're fine, it's part of the adventure!" Grian watches as the piston shoots the armour stand across the room. False smiles, leaning back against the bed. Some of the other hermits have been coming online with the early morning. Thankfully, they don't seem to know about everything that went down yesterday. It's best things are quiet for Xisuma whilst he rests. She's sure he’ll tell them about it. She'll make sure he does.

As the sun grows higher with the dawn, she dozes off again. Grian is yawning, him and Iskall only catching a few hours of sleep. He's still buzzing with activity. He'll crash later, easy enough.

It's to this quiet atmosphere that Xisuma wakes up. Iskall and Grian are still experimenting. Grian’s laughter rings out as the armour stand bounces in the air. The beat of the piston is monotonous, but they're nearly falling over each other at the sight. Xisuma watches with a soft smile, eyes barely opened.

"It we got one on top, do you think it would-" Grian holds his hand up, demonstrating an armour stand shaking up and down aggressively. Iskall chuckles, shaking his head.

"It's only the morning, we don't need to break physics yet."

"It's for science," Grian protests. He sounds breathless, half-delirious with his need for sleep.

"Please don't make me do work," Xisuma whispers, all too aware of the sleeping hermits around him. Grian perks up, Iskall turning to him with a grin.

"'Suma!" Iskall calls. Xisuma smiles at both of them, making no attempt to move. He's comfortable here and he doesn't want to wake his friends.

"Exy-Suma!" Grian slides across, leaving a gap from the sleeping hermits. Iskall stands by his side, resting his hand on Grian's shoulder. "How are you feeling?" Xisuma wraps his arm tighter around his helmet.

"Not the best, my friend," he answers honestly. "But I'm certainly better than before."

"Well, we'll just have to make that even better then." Grian is committed to the cause now. He's going to make Xisuma's day.

"You don't have to rush back into things," Iskall says, offering a smile. "I'm sure we can handle ourselves today."

"I don't think I'm getting out of this bed anytime soon." Xisuma looks down at Keralis, dark hair brushing Xisuma's chest plate. False is asleep slouched in the chair beside him. Even without being able to see the other occupants of the room, he can still tell they're sleeping. "Feels a bit weird not going for a jog at this time, though."

"I'm sure your legs won't wither away after one morning, X," Iskall jokes. "Be lazy like the rest of us." Grian grins.

"We could always play some mini-games later, too!" Xisuma laughs, stretching as much as he can without shifting Keralis. He's beginning to regret sleeping in his armour, but it's too late now.

The three chat with each other, Xisuma offering advice now he's awake. They're gradually building up a system to launch the armour stand across the room. Sure, they'll have to clean it all up later, but it passes the time and it makes them laugh. Hearing Xisuma laughing is good for all three of them, despite the roughness reminding them of last night's ordeal. It's safe to say that nobody envies Xisuma's experience.

The three jump at a strange, shrill noise, until the realisation kicks in. Zed is sitting up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Hair is falling into his face, ruffled from sleep. Tango remains slumped against him. He even rolls into the warmth Zedaph leaves behind. It takes a few seconds until the hybrid notices his audience. Zedaph jumps, smiling sheepishly.

"Oh, hi, sorry! Forgot I wasn't alone." His eyes are glowing brightly in the morning light. He looks down at the arm lazily clinging to his waist. "This oaf is used to it."

"No, no, you're okay," Xisuma tells him. False is stirring beside him, blinking to life, but Keralis remains out. "How are you feeling?" Zedaph taps his chin, resting his finger on his lip.

"Pretty well-rested, actually." Then his attention turns to Xisuma. "What about you? I should be asking you that question!" Xisuma laughs, flexing his fingers against his helmet.

"I'm okay. Taking it easy." He tilts his head towards Grian and Iskall. "Whether I like it or not, it seems."

"Too right," False agrees, yawning. "T'others can handle admin duties for today. You're ours."

"Is that a threat?"

"We can make it one!" Iskall tells him, his voice a lot more cheerful than the implication of his words. "We just need a good leash-"

"Oh absolutely not! Don't you dare!" Keralis pokes his head up next to him, trying to tune into the conversation. Zedaph laughs from across the room. He's tugging a bleary Tango to rest on his shoulder so he can wrap the blanket around them both.

"Oh come on, X, it'll be fun!" Grian wraps his arms around Iskall's shoulders. Xisuma shakes his head.

"You two are terrible. Absolutely terrible. Goodness me."

"I'm sure X will agree to take a day off willingly," False says, sounding far too threatening as she rubs sleep from her eyes.

"I already agreed. No leash required!"

"Why are we talking about leashes?" Keralis finally asks, looking more confused than anything. They break down into laughter.

[Grian] hello everyone

[iskall85] HALLO!

[iskall85] we are stealing your admin for the day!

[Grian] yeah he's ours.

[falsesymmetry] x had a rough night so he's having a day off

[falsesymmetry] so if any admins besides tango, x and i could step up please?

[cubfan135] yeah I'm on it.

[joehillssays] of course, and send our well wishes to our dear admin!

[Xisuma] your dear admin thanks you :-)

[Xisuma] please try not to break anything

[Etho] have a fun day lol

[joehillssays] don't make us lock you out of your screens, x!

[Keralis1] Nothing will get past us.

[iskall85] he's been suitably threatened.

[Renthedog] Should uh... We be concerned?

[Grian] about x-i-sooma finally getting a break?

[falsesymmetry] he's in safe hands. promise.

"Should we get this day started?" Tango asks. Grian is about to answer, only to yawn. He covers his mouth, face turning red.

"Another hour of sleep first?" False suggests. They look around the room, everyone in varying states of awareness.

"It never hurt anyone." Iskall shoves Mumbo over, fitting into bed beside him. "See y'all in an hour." Keralis smiles at Xisuma. He bumps their heads together.

"You deserve a break without being traumatised first, you know that Shishwamy?" He checks. Xisuma laughs, pressing their foreheads together.

"Yeah, I know." He leans back. "And I think I've got some good friends to remind me." False pats his back, getting comfortable enough to doze off again.

"And don't you forget it." Xisuma looks around the room. The architechs are fighting over the bed, Tango and Zedaph curled back up on theirs. He smiles, the fear from last night already on its way to being a distant memory.

"Don't think I can."

#hermitcraft #xisuma #falsesymmetry #keralis #grian #iskall85 #tangotek #zedaph #feel like mumbo's role is too minor to tag him lmao #my writing #this fic took so loooong #but i wanted to get it done #more brain space for my other projects

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twomanyideas · 4 years ago

Text

Through the Spyglass - Chapter 2 (Final)

A collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

Gratsu Weekend 2021 Prompt: Disaster Pairing(s): Gray x Natsu, Sting x Rogue

For @walkinginfiction

AO3 | Prev: Ch 1

Chapter 2

Passing the mirror in their small entrance, Natsu checked himself out just to make sure he looked somewhat presentable. His hair looked good. His shirt wasn’t bad either, save the glitter, but his skin looked like he’d been eating bacon everywhere Sting had applied the lip balm. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to get rid of the greasiness. It kind of worked, but some of that glitter must've been on his hand, and he’d now smeared it over his face, which still smelled like breakfast. As did his hand, and he couldn't even go back upstairs to wash it off because the muffled sounds told him he absolutely did not want to be there right now. So with no other choice, he opened the front door and stepped outside. Fuck my life.

That should have been a choice on those damn dice.

Natsu took a moment to examine the three pieces of mail in his hand. His eyes narrowed as he read: Or Current Resident typed beneath Gray’s name. He wanted to strangle Rogue. Junk mail? Really? What kind of idiot went out of his way to return junk mail?

Great.

He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that at least the last letter seemed important. Placing it on top, he figured he might as well get this over with. Gray could see what a fucking disaster he was, and he could get back to his famine.

Still, Natsu’s natural optimism refused to let him give up completely, not to mention his curiosity. After days of watching Gray through binoculars, he couldn’t help but be a little excited at meeting him in person.

He crossed the street, keeping his eyes fixed on Gray’s front door until he stood outside of it.

Alright Dragneel, you can do this. You have a valid reason to be here, and you’re looking very fine.

He was about to ring the doorbell when the door opened unexpectedly, putting him face to face with Gray.

The first thing Natsu noticed now that he could see him up close, was that his eyes were indeed blue, and as he stared into them, he couldn’t help but smile at being right.

“Hi?” Gray frowned, giving Natsu an inquisitive once over, gaze lingering on the glitter sticking to his shirt.

Natsu listened with fascination as Gray somehow made that one word sound like the sexiest thing he’d ever heard.

“Are you alright?”

Natsu blinked, confused by the question until he realized he still hadn’t said a word, just stood there gaping like an idiot.

“Mail,” he blurted out, holding out the letters. “I mean, I have your mail.”

“Oh, thanks for bringing it over,” Gray said as he grabbed the letters from Natsu. He looked down at the envelopes, his mouth twitching as he examined them.

“You, uh, really like glitter, huh?”

“Would you believe I was assaulted?”

“By who, the glitter fairy?”

Natsu roared heartily at that, earning himself a smile from Gray. “Close. I'm so calling him that from now on.”

“Well, it certainly looks good on you.”

Was Gray flirting with him? Yes!

“I’m Natsu, I live across the street.” he extended his hand for a handshake, completely forgetting about the lip balm.

“Gray, but you already know that,” Gray shook his hand, and it was only when he let go quickly, his expression changing from friendliness to disgust that Natsu remembered.

Noooooo! Things had been going so well!

Gray sniffed at the air, “Do I smell bacon?”

“Bacon?” Natsu chuckled nervously, wiping his hand on his pants leg, “That’s kind of random.”

“Right.” A beeping noise had Gray pulling out his phone, “Well, it was nice to meet you. I guess I’ll see you around,” he muttered, peering down at his phone’s screen.

“Yeah, bye.”

Natsu couldn’t believe he’d crashed and burned so hard, so fast. Fucking bacon balm. And now he’d have to go back home and listen to the two rabbits. He turned around, but Gray had grabbed him by the arm before he could get moving.

“Change of plans. I need a favor,” he said, dragging him inside the house and up the stairs.

“Hey, let go of me. What the hell?!” Natsu dragged his heels and tried to loosen Gray’s grasp on his arm. He was no slouch, but this guy was just as strong.

“Take off your shirt,” Gray said calmly, once they’d reached his studio. Damn that accent!

“Excuse me? Are you mental?” Natsu might have been protesting, but his fingers were moving, deftly undoing buttons until he stood with his shirt open, debating what to do next.

“Perfect, let me go get some things,” he left the room, and Natsu could hear the tap running, followed by the sound of him rummaging through drawers not too long after.

This wasn’t at all how he’d expected their meeting to go, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining. He’d already unbuttoned his pants and was working them down his legs when Gray returned holding art supplies, which he immediately dropped.

Oh.

Natsu could literally feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, which was perhaps the best place for it to be right then.

“Whoa! What are you doing?” Gray yelped and looked away, similarly flushed.

“Yeah, I’d like to know as well,” Natsu griped, pulling his pants back up. “First you blow me off, then you drag me in here and ask me to take off clothes.”

“So you figured I’d gone from blowing you off to wanting to blow you instead?”

Gray looked away from Natsu, his hand moving to cover his mouth, but he soon broke into loud belly laughs. “Oh my God, you are so cute. But you’re right, I didn't explain.”

Natsu stood waiting, as patiently as he was able, while Gray picked up his supplies and set them on the desk. “Well?”

“Oh, right. I have a live model project due tomorrow and my mate cancelled on me at the last minute.”

“Mate?”

Of course Gray was already taken. The guy was gorgeous. It had been stupid of him to think otherwise.

“Uhm, what do you call it here?” Gray’s forehead creased in thought, “Buddy?”

Natsu desperately wanted to ask if he was taken, but he’d already humiliated himself plenty. “So what do you need me to do exactly?”

“Not sure yet.” Gray studied him, lifting Natsu’s chin and easing his face from left to right before removing his shirt and tossing it on the desk. He asked Natsu to turn around and observed him some more until finally seeming satisfied.

“Just stand over here,” he ushered him to a spot near the window where the lighting was better, and then posed him like a figurine. Gray fixed his posture, put his hands inside his pockets, and tilted his face at a slight angle. “I guess that’ll do,” he shrugged, taking a few steps back to assess the result. “Now all you need to do is hold that pose so I can draw you for my project. Think you can do that for me?”

Natsu massaged the back of his neck, unsure of what to do. While he’d like to stay and help Gray out, everything he’d said or done since he’d arrived had only made him seem like a complete idiot. Plus, he was notoriously bad at keeping still.

“I’d tell you I’d make it worth your while but, given the pants incident, I’m a little apprehensive about what you might ask for in return.” Gray prodded with a teasing smile.

Damn that accent, and his good looks. He didn’t want to give up and go home yet. Fuck it. How much worse could he possibly make it?

“How about you never bring that up again, and we’ll call it even.”

Gray laughed, “Deal, I’ll even throw in some pizza.”

Natsu tried not to focus on Gray's closeness, or the way his skin sizzled at the subtle touches as Gray moved him back into the pose he’d wanted to draw.

“Now, don’t move,” Gray warned, settling behind his desk. He grabbed a pencil and his sketchpad and got to work.

With not much else to do, Natsu watched Gray work, noticing little patterns here and there. Things he hadn’t been able to see from his window. Like the way Gray would draw his lower lip between his teeth right before doing a bunch of erasing, or the little half-smile he’d get when he was pleased with his progress. But Natsu’s favorite by far was the way his tongue peeked out the corner of his mouth when he seemed to be in deep focus.

Soon, even that wasn’t enough to hold his interest but anytime he tried to strike up a conversation, Gray ignored him. It didn’t help that he was fucking freezing, standing there half naked, or that his phone kept vibrating in his pocket. He began to fidget.

“You’re moving again,” Gray scolded.

“How can you expect me to stay still when it’s freezing in here? What are you, some kind of ice princess?”

“Funny.” he said, giving Natsu a dirty look. “I suppose I could turn the heat up a little. I wouldn’t want your nipples to freeze off before I could draw them.”

Gray got up and stretched, leaving Natsu alone in the room while he went to adjust the thermostat. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, eager to see what all the notifications were about.

There were dozens of them.

How’s it going? 👀

Did he invite you in?

Way to go! 👍😎

You should have taken the condom I offered, 🍆💦🍑 🔥😏

Hey, you’re not answering, does that mean you’re busy?! 👀👀👀👀👀

What’s happening!!!!!

It went on and on… until he finally caught up.

Going to look for your binoculars….

Why are you standing there half naked? I see you reading…. Why aren’t you answering me?

He turned to look out the room’s window, mortified to see exactly what he’d been afraid to see: two shadows standing inside his bedroom. He had to close the blinds, but the sound of Gray’s footsteps echoed loudly in the mostly empty apartment, approaching too fast for him to make a move.

“You moved again, is there something outside?” Gray peered out the window.

“I thought I saw a light on in my room,” Natsu explained, pretending to give the matter little importance.

“Here, I made some cocoa to help warm you up. You might as well take a break.”

“Thanks,” Natsu accepted the mug gratefully, even as his phone continued to vibrate in his other hand.

“Shouldn’t you answer that?”

Natsu shook his head, “He’ll stop eventually,” he said, praying it was true. He wouldn’t put it past Sting to show up if he thought something was wrong.

“Needy ex?” Gray sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his own mug and studying his drawing. “Those are the worst.”

“Oh no, that’s not it,” He quickly changed the subject, realizing how embarrassing it would be to explain what was actually happening. “Can I see what you’ve done so far?”

“Sure, knock yourself out,” Gray had been about to pass him the sketchbook, when he seemed to reconsider. “On second thought, go wash the bacon grease off your hands first.”

“That’s not what it is! Do you really think I walk around with bacon grease on my hands?” Natsu protested.

“How would I know? I just met you. Anyhow, bathroom’s that way.”

Natsu put his mug down and looked at where Gray was pointing, noticing that the house had a very similar layout to his. His phone continued to vibrate, this time with an incoming call, but he waited until he’d reached the bathroom to answer.

“What?!” Natsu yelled as loudly as he dared.

“Don’t you what me, Dragneel! I was worried. You disappeared and then you weren’t answering,” Sting snapped, “We know nothing about this guy. He could be a serial killer.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, I know that now. Where’s your shirt?”

“I’m just posing for him for an assignment!” Natsu hissed, “His model bailed at the last minute.”

“Okay, I guess that sounds legit.”

“Thanks, Mom. Now can you please get out of my room before he sees you?” “He’s taking his shirt off!” Rogue’s voice rang through the phone. “Is that part of the assignment too?” “He’s primping in the mirror now!” Sting added excitedly, “Fixing his hair and… Oh shit.” “What?” “He, uhm... he just waved at us…”

“He what?! Gotta go, bye!” Natsu hung up, powering off the phone before they had a chance to call back.

Natsu turned on the faucet, letting the water warm up while he scrubbed his hands with hand soap. Examining his face in the mirror with a frown, he decided to go ahead and wash it before nervously returning to the studio.

Gray looked up at his approach, handing him the sketchbook without saying a word. Natsu saw that he had indeed taken his shirt off, but decided it best not to bring attention to it. He could feel him watching for his reaction to the drawing, which was much further along than he’d thought.

It was strange to see himself on paper, especially when the drawing made him look much better than he thought he did.

“Do you like it? I mean, it’s not done yet,” Gray crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.

“Like it?” Natsu puzzled, “It’s amazing! Even though you’re making me out to look much nicer than I really do.”

“What are you talking about?” Gray grabbed the sketchbook from Natsu, looking from him to the drawing. “That’s exactly what you look like to me.”

“I-,” Natsu couldn’t even begin to come up with a response to that, so he went ahead and addressed the elephant in the room. “I’m sorry about my friends.”

Gray waved away his apology, “They’re just being good friends. They probably expected you to have come home by now.”

“Yeah. They’re also a pain in the ass though.”

“You think they’re bad? Just wait til you meet my mate Erza.” Gray handed him the mug, “You should drink this before it gets cold.”

Natsu nodded, drinking the whole thing down in one gulp and setting the mug back on the desk.

“Alright, let’s get you back into your pose,” Gray stood up, following Natsu towards the window.

Fingers grazed Natsu’s cheek as Gray adjusted the tilt of his head, resting there as their eyes met. Natsu’s heart raced at the intensity of that gaze. He tried to tell himself that Gray was only studying him for the drawing, but it was hard to think when their bare chests stood so close together. Especially with the added torture of Gray’s fingers tracing their way up Natsu’s face.

“You got your hair wet. Let me fix it.”

Gray’s fingers tugged and pulled at Natsu’s hair, sending shivers of pleasure from his scalp all the way down his spine. “There you go, good as new.”

After making some final adjustments, Gray hurried back to his desk, picking up the pencil and getting back to work. He only looked up at Natsu a few times, the pencil diligently gliding across the paper as he kept adding to the drawing. At some point, he stopped to look at his work, the hint of a smile forming on his lips when he switched the pencil for what looked to be a white pen. He added some finishing touches here and there, and by the time he put the pen down, Natsu was equally relieved and disappointed.

Gray leaned back in his seat and stretched, presenting Natsu with a magnificent view of his chest and abs. It wasn’t like Natsu had never seen it before. The guy walked around his house shirtless more often than not, but he looked so much better up close than through a pair of old binoculars.

“It’s done. You can move now.”

“Oh. Right.”

Natsu took a moment to stretch as well, slowly rolling his shoulders and neck to ease some soreness out of his muscles. Once done, he made a beeline for his shirt, putting it back on and remembering to leave the two top buttons undone.

“So, what do you think?” Gray asked, handing him the sketchbook again so he could see the finished result.

Natsu was stunned. The drawing looked almost like a photograph. That white pen Gray had used towards the end had created some amazing highlights, like the glitter on Natsu’s skin and the light reflecting in his eyes, really making the artwork come to life.

The doorbell rang before he could give his answer.

“Oh good, it’s here. Hold that thought,” Gray led him to the kitchen where he grabbed his wallet from the counter before hurrying down the stairs to answer the door. Natsu continued to stare at the finished drawing with awe, having trouble accepting that this was how Gray saw him.

Soon, Gray returned, holding a large pizza box and a 2 liter of soda. “I did promise you pizza.”

Natsu watched with mixed feelings as Gray set the food on the counter, wanting to tell him he hadn’t needed to do that. That he’d had fun posing for him, but before he could do so his stomach growled in response to the smell of food wafting in the air.

“Is that... bacon?” he sniffed the air, then his hands again to make sure he wasn’t just imagining things.

“Yeah, I got you a bacon pizza considering how much you seem to love the stuff.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” Gray snickered, opening the pizza box and helping himself to a slice.

Natsu grabbed a paper plate, loaded it up with slices, and looked around for somewhere to sit. Finding no other furniture, he sat on the floor with his back against the cabinets. A moment later Gray joined him, handing Natsu a paper cup and placing the two liter in front of them.

“Sorry about this,” Gray said, “I have to get around to buying furniture. I had to move rather unexpectedly, so all I‘ve got right now is my desk and a bed.”

“Well, you can always come over to our place. We’ve got a pretty nice setup.” Natsu bit into his pizza, moaning at the taste and shoving more into his mouth. “This is fantastic!”

Not seeing any napkins, he used the back of his hand to wipe some of the grease off his mouth.

“You’re easy to please, aren’t you?” Gray chuckled, stretching to open a cabinet and snatch a roll of paper towels, which he offered to Natsu. “Good to know.”

Natsu ripped one from the roll and shrugged. “I like things simple.”

“Can’t argue with that. Well, I for one am glad you showed up today. You really saved my bacon,” Gray snorted, dissolving into giggles.

Natsu groaned and pushed Gray with his shoulder.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.” Gray pushed back, his laughter finally subsiding. “Anyhow, what did you think of your drawing?”

“It looks amazing! You’re so talented.“ Natsu said earnestly. “Can I see some of your other work?”

“Sure, I have some on my phone,” Gray took out his phone and started fiddling with it.

“So, uhm, how come you lost the shirt?”

Gray looked up with a frown, “You’re joking, right? It’s sweltering in here.”

“Sweltering?” Natsu repeated, dumbfounded. “Oh right, Rogue mentioned you were from Isvan.”

“Rogue,” Gray’s eyes sparkled with amusement, “That’s the bloke that stole my mail, right? I thought he was checking me out.”

“Nah, he’s my roommate's boyfriend. He was just trying to get me to come introduce myself.”

“So hang on, the glitter, the hair- that was for me?”

Natsu nodded, and not wanting to see Gray’s reaction to his admission he got up and snatched two more slices of pizza from the box.

“Okay, now I have to ask. What the hell was up with the bacon thing? That was nasty!”

“Right?!” Natsu sat back down and told Gray all about Sting’s makeover attempt, finding it pretty funny now that it was over with. He was delighted to hear Gray laughing along beside him, even as he fended off his attempts to steal one of his slices.

“Oh man, that’s great! You didn’t have to go through all that. Though I gotta say, the glitter definitely sold it.”

“I’ll make sure to let him know.”

“Uhm here,” Gray handed him his phone, “Just tap the screen to go to the next one.”

Natsu wiped his hand on the paper towel before touching the screen, soon becoming lost in Gray’s art. There were some other portraits of men, and Natsu didn't like those much. It made him think Gray might have also sat with them like this. There was a striking portrait of a redhead that caught his attention. She looked intense, certainly not someone you'd want to cross.

“That’s Erza, my mate I was telling you about.”

Natsu nodded, making a mental note not to piss her off before moving on to the next one. There were lots of different styles, including a few that looked like they would be at home in some of his comic books. He commented here and there, continuing to tap the screen, unsure of what it was he was looking for until he found it. The picture of the cat he’d seen Gray draw a few days earlier.

“You like that one, huh?” Gray peeked to see which one he was looking at. “That’s a recent one.”

Natsu smiled fondly, “Yeah, it reminds me of Happy, my childhood cat. We used to do everything together. He was my best buddy.”

He told Gray some stories about Happy, leading to them both sharing silly childhood memories as they finished the rest of the pizza and half of the soda. Much too soon, it was getting dark outside, and Natsu knew their time together was ending.

“Shall I walk you back home?” Gray asked, getting up and dusting off his pants. “You know, just to make sure the glitter fairy won’t worry about you.”

Natsu wanted to decline, he lived right across the street after all, and he didn’t need anyone to protect or watch over him. He’d be fine on his own.

But... that would be stupid.

“Sure!”

“Ok, let me just grab a shirt and turn down the thermostat.” While Gray disappeared into his bedroom, Natsu washed his hands in the sink, not wanting a repeat of earlier.

Gray followed Natsu down the stairs, locking the door behind them. It took them less than a minute to reach Natsu’s front door. He’d just curled his fingers around the doorknob when Gray cleared his throat behind him, causing him to turn and face him.

“So I was thinking, if you like that cat picture, I could, uh, send it to your phone.”

“Oh, sure!” Natsu remained oblivious to what Gray was asking for a few seconds, stuck on the thought of being able to look at the picture whenever he wanted. “Wait, you want my number?”

“Sure, I have a live nude project due next week,” Gray waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Wh-aat?”

“Relax, I was just teasing,” Gray’s laughter washed over Natsu, followed by words he hadn’t expected. “I would like to see you again, though.”

Natsu could only nod and stammer as Gray handed him his phone so he could add his number. He could barely even remember it, distracted as he was by the thought that Gray wanted to see him again, but he made sure he’d plugged the right one by giving himself a call before returning it.

“Well, uhm, good night,” Natsu waved, feeling awkward and not sure what else to do. Should he shake his hand, give him a hug?

He didn’t have long to worry as Gray peered into his eyes with the same intense gaze as he’d done at the studio. Closing the small distance between them with one step, Gray leaned in slowly, tilting his head and closing his eyes as he pressed his lips to Natsu’s for a soft kiss.

It only lasted for a second, but it was enough for Natsu to feel it all the way down to his toes. Gray moved back, licking his lips and opening his eyes.

“I thought about that a lot while I was drawing,” he admitted with a shy smile.

“Oh,” Natsu mumbled, amazed he’d gotten even that much out. His brain was a jumble of inner screaming, disbelief, and just pure joy at the idea that this amazing, gorgeous guy seemed to like him as much as Natsu liked him, and oh dear god that accent. He couldn’t get enough of it.

Gray chuckled, tracing his fingers over Natsu’s cheek one last time before waving goodbye.

Natsu watched Gray walk back to his house, wanting to see him until he went inside, but he found himself being dragged into his house and grabbed by the hands. Next thing he knew he was bouncing up and down with a screeching Sting and an only slightly less enthusiastic Rogue.

Thankfully Rogue kept Sting from carrying Natsu piggyback up the stairs in a victory lap.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he stopped celebrating long enough to check it.

As promised, Gray had sent the cat picture, along with a text.

Sweet dreams 🥓boy 😉

Rolling his eyes at the bacon reference, Natsu typed a reply, thrilled to know his famine was finally at an end.

A/N: We really hope you enjoyed this story at least half as much as we enjoyed writing it. This might be our favorite Natsu, Sting and Rogue combo we’ve ever written. It’s entirely possible we might visit them again someday.

#fairy tail #gratsu #gratsuweekend2021 #stingue #other #update #prompt: disaster #fics

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cheri-translates · 5 years ago

Text

[CN] Idle Chat with Victor

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a feature which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The CN server was recently graced with a new feature called 随便聊聊 (“Idle Chat”), where you can select a mood and talk to the love interests about work, life, and studies :>

Idle Chat with: Gavin / Kiro / Lucien / Shaw

[ WORK - Topic 1: Overtime ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: Overtime is finally over!! I’m going home to lie down~ I miss my bed and pillow so much

Victor: You’re working overtime again?

Victor: The timing for tomorrow's report will be changed to the afternoon

Victor: You can get more sleep in the morning.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I’m completely not in the mood to work today, and think I’ll have to work overtime again. I wonder if I’ll be able to finish by 10pm... I’m a little tired, and really miss my bed.

Victor: Instead of letting your mind wander, why not complete the work on hand quickly.

Victor: You were in the mood to play on your phone and send messages in the afternoon though.

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I have to work overtime today! I feel as though I’m basically living in the office recently! I wonder when such days will come to an end...

Victor: Do you want me to award you with a “Most Hardworking Employee” certificate?

Victor: There’s no need for unnecessary overtime

Victor: Tonight, go home and have a good rest.

[ WORK - Topic 2: Income ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: It’s the happy day of payday! Even though I have to pay for various expenses, I’ll live in the moment. So tonight, I’ve decided to have a big feast in Souvenir

Victor: Souvenir isn’t open tonight.

Victor: But if you want to come, I can make an exception.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: In just the blink of an eye, payday is arriving. Come to think of it, the term “income” doesn’t seem to be related to you at all. Doesn’t this mean you’re short of one form of happiness?

Victor: Your definition of “happiness” is overly simplistic.

Victor: I don’t need to consider such things.

Victor: Also, when do you intend to submit the financial statements from the previous quarter?

3. Mood: Angry

MC: Why is there never enough income? I didn’t do much this month, but ended up spending so much. I’m troubled.

Victor: Are you hinting that I should increase your pay?

Victor: It isn’t an impossibility.

Victor: As long as you give me a convincing reason.

[ WORK - Topic 3: Program Progress ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: That collaboration I mentioned the last time was successful! Phew - it’s really been full of twists and turns, and I almost thought it’d fail. It’s a good thing we didn’t give up!

Victor: Since it’s successful, bring the proposal over along with your report next week.

Victor: I’ve asked Goldman to schedule a meeting.

Victor: Also, you did well this time.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I really have no idea what to do for the new program. I’ve thought of a few perspectives, but everyone thinks they aren’t that great. It feels like all my inspiration has dried up...

Victor: In that case, work on something else to divert your train of thought.

Victor: There are many methods, and you can pick one yourself.

Victor: If you can’t think of anything, come to Souvenir after work.

3. Mood: Angry

MC: The new proposal hasn’t been going smoothly... I was full of vigour at first, but I feel slightly discouraged now. Sigh, I’m starting to doubt life.

Victor: Didn’t you boast shamelessly before that you’d definitely do it?

Victor: Why don’t you take out that vigour you showed me?

Victor: I can spare some time later to help you take a look.

[ WORK - Topic 4: Program Results ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I didn’t expect the program to be approved so smoothly. I even thought it’d get stuck for a long time like the previous case. Looks like praying to you before the meeting was effective!

Victor: Dummy. Praying to me isn’t effective.

Victor: The proposal you did this time wasn’t bad

Victor: Continue making persistent efforts.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: The program on hand is stuck mid-way again. Recently, it feels as though everything isn’t going smoothly. Do you have time to take a look at my proposal?

Victor: Come to my house this weekend

Victor: I can spare two hours.

Victor: If you’re asking for my guidance, have you thought about how to pay the tutoring fee?

3. Mood: Angry

MC: The collaborative program with Loveland TV didn’t get approved again!! I’ve already made five amendments!! Life is really difficult!

Victor: While burying your head in amendments, did you find the reason why it wasn’t approved?

Victor: If you didn’t, let Goldman help.

Victor: As for the rest, I believe you can handle them.

🌹

[ LIFE - Topic 1: Losing Weight ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: When I measured myself today, I realised that I’ve actually lost weight! Truly, “shut your mouth, move your legs”.

Victor: Since you have the determination to persevere

Victor: Looks like the pudding you wanted as a reward can be called off.

[Note] 管住嘴迈开腿 (“Shut your mouth, move your legs”) is a motto for losing weight in Chinese.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: It’s strange... Why isn’t there the slightest change in my weight even after exercising persistently for several days?! This has greatly swayed my determination to continue exercising.

Victor: Is this another one of your reasons to be lazy?

Victor: Continue with your morning run tomorrow.

3. Mood: Angry

MC: During the company’s physical examination, I received a bit of a blow. I actually put on so much weight!! From tomorrow onwards, I’m going to lose weight!

Victor: You do have to control yourself and have fewer suppers and snacks.

Victor: Instead of tormenting yourself alone

Victor: From tomorrow onwards, you’ll join me in my morning run.

[ LIFE - Topic 2: Meals ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I followed a recipe and whipped up coffee chicken perfectly! Even though it looks slightly flawed, the taste deserves 80 marks. Want to give it a try?

Victor: I’m suspicious of what you call “perfect”.

Victor: I’m not at home now. Come to LFG to look for me.

Victor: I hope your skills won’t disappoint me.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: How can I control the thickness of congee? I accidentally poured too much water, and now it has become a pot of rice soup. I even wanted to show you once I succeeded...

Victor: Looks like everything related to “appropriateness” is difficult for you to comprehend.

Victor: What congee are you trying to cook?

Victor: I’ll get someone to prepare the ingredients. Come over and I’ll teach you personally.

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I tried following the recipe you gave me, but failed... I’m not asking for it to be delicious and perfect, but it ended up looking like dark cuisine. I followed every single thing you wrote though!

Victor: This has nothing to do with the recipe.

Victor: As long as you are half as serious about cooking as you are eating it

Victor: It wouldn’t become like this.

[ LIFE - Topic 3: Reading ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I’ve finally finished reading that book you recommended. It’s very interesting!

Victor: What else did you plan to understand?

Victor: I don’t often read such books.

Victor: But after reading it, I realised that there are some merits.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: Today, I purchased a few books on management but didn’t have time to read them. Come to think of it, I haven’t finished reading the books I bought the last time either. But the internet says that buying books but not reading them is also a form of charity~

Victor: So the reason why you buy books is for “charity” reasons?

Victor: Next time, don’t just buy any book you see

Victor: If you don’t know what to buy, ask me.

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I just finished reading a very long book... In the end, everyone died aside from the protagonist! Why is there such a tragic ending!

Victor: So do you want to change the ending?

Victor: Have a night’s rest, and you’ll forget about it tomorrow.

Victor: Don’t complain about dark eye circles the next time.

[ LIFE - Topic 4: Games ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I’m at home since it’s a vacation today, and successfully finished all stages of a game! I said that I have a natural talent when it comes to games, didn’t I? The next time we play together, I won’t be in a flurry like the last time.

Victor: When did I agree to play games with you again?

Victor: If the new program you proposed can rank first in the ratings

Victor: I wouldn’t mind seeing the results of your practice.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I’ve entered a game wasteland. Even though I usually don’t spend much time playing games... But when I want to play, there’s nothing worth playing, and I end up feeling very bored.

Victor: Apart from playing games, don’t you have other things to do?

Victor: If you really feel bored

Victor: There’s a dinner party tonight. You can come with me.

3. Mood: Angry

MC: When I was discussing a collaborative project today, I tried playing two rounds of Texas hold ’em. It ended in a tragic defeat... These games which require skill and thinking are not suitable for me.

Victor: Actually, it’s rules are very simple.

Victor: Playing such games requires sufficient patience and ambition.

Victor: I’ll teach you next time.

🌹

[ SCHOOL - Topic 1: Progress ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I’ve read through all the materials beforehand. I initially thought these were hieroglyphics, but now I realise they aren’t that difficult~

Victor: Since you could persevere, it looks like it wasn’t just a flash in the pan.

Victor: If you pass the exam, I’ll consider giving you a reward.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: It has been two hours since I started studying, and my progress is 10%. Ahhh I have to make full use of my time!! Why does time disappear the moment my mind wanders...

Victor: If you want to make full use of your time, you should be keeping your phone.

Victor: Next time, lock your phone away before you start studying

Victor: It can prevent 80% of your loss of focus.

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I understand every word, but I can’t comprehend the sentence. I doubt I can finish learning all the materials before the examination. It’s really difficult!

Victor: You chose the hardest difficulty for yourself, so it’s too late to give up.

Victor: But the fact that you could persevere till now

Victor: It already makes one see you in a different light.

[ SCHOOL - Topic 2: Homework ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I just did two sets of examination questions, and the options I picked were all correct! I’m truly an ordinary small genius~ My confidence has shot up!

Victor: Before the final results, blind confidence isn’t much help.

Victor: But I’m looking forward to the final examination script you submit.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: It just dawned on me... why do I still have homework?! I thought the word “homework” was long gone. I didn’t expect that I wouldn’t be able to escape from its shadow.

Victor: If your procrastination didn't show up, all these could have been completed very quickly.

Victor: Aside from homework, don’t forget the report for this quarter.

Victor: I don’t accept unexplained delays.

3. Mood: Angry

MC: I plan to apply for leave from the meeting tomorrow afternoon. Tonight, I’m going to spend the entire night completing the heap of homework... I don’t believe I can’t finish them!!

Victor: With such vigor, why didn’t you complete some earlier?

Victor: Your goal is simply to pass the exam, so you can do some selection

Victor: There’s no need to foolishly set unnecessary requirements for yourself.

[ SCHOOL - Topic 3: Pre-exam Revision ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: I’m done with revision, and have a feeling that I’ll pass successfully this time! If I manage to pass, I’ll invite you out to celebrate. I’ve already thought of the location!

Victor: I accompanied you in studying for such a long time. If you can’t pass, I’ll be skeptical of your brain.

Victor: Right now, the most important thing is to conserve your strength and energy.

Victor: Switch off your phone, and go to sleep.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: Although I’m all prepared, my heart still feels very nervous... If I had known earlier, I would have prayed for a “Pass Every Exam” sign!!

Victor: Since you’re all prepared, why are you still nervous?

Victor: Forget it, I shouldn’t have had expectations for your psychological state...

Victor: Give me a call before you sleep.

3. Mood: Angry

MC: Why do people need to go through exams... Why do people need to do revision... Why do people need to live...

Victor: Weren’t you brimming with confidence when you signed up?

Victor: There’s still time

Victor: I can accompany you in looking through the questions one more time.

[ SCHOOL - Topic 4: Post-exam celebration ]

1. Mood: Happy

MC: The exam is over! I plan to celebrate with a feast! I feel as though the gigantic stone in my heart has finally been lifted. I’m back to being a brave heroine~

Victor: The results aren’t out and you’re already so confident?

Victor: Forget it, I won’t deal any blows

Victor: What do you want to eat? Let me know once you’ve decided.

2. Mood: Upset

MC: I wonder when the examination results would be released... Not being able to see the marks always makes my heart feel uneasy. Although I said I was going to celebrate, I don’t have much of a mood now.

Victor: Your mentality has room for improvement.

Victor: No matter how much you think about it, you can’t change the marks.

Victor: Come to Souvenir tonight - treat it as a celebration for completing your exam.

3. Mood: Angry

MC: The results of today’s exam are out! I obtained 30 marks more than the passing mark! I originally wanted to celebrate, but I heard a grievous piece of news - It turns out that the written examination only constitutes 60% of the marks! The rest are constituted by attendance!

Victor: This score is much higher than your previous test

Victor: As for the remaining marks, I recall that your attendance should be sufficient

Victor: There’s no need to worry.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor

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draco-kasai · 4 years ago

Text

Hero Collaboration Program

Summery: High School Hero Collaboration Program! Helping Sophomore hero students connect with others around the world! Come join us for a two-week-long trip to one of our schools for an amazing once in a lifetime experience with students of Yuuei! Only a lucky 40 students will be selected for this program. They will be split into two groups of 20 and sent to different schools to have completely unique experiences!

A/N: AKA, A very ambitious fanfic I started because even though I have another fanfic in progress my brain decided to give me an idea and I just had to do it. These are all characters I adore and I even did lots of research on them to hopefuly get them down right. I also too many backstories and threw them into a meat grinder to remold them in a way that would make them fit into this universe.

I love Class 1-A, but like they need to be taken down a peg or two, and I want to see them get their asses handed to them.

Ch. 1 part 3 of 3 Program Sign-Ups

Chapter 1 pt 1 --> Chapter 1 pt 2 --> -Chapter 2-

“Hola mama.” a teen smiled softly at the woman behind the desk. His brown hair, that almost looked a reddish orange in the light, was a curly mess, almost hiding his two round, striped ears.

The older woman looked away from the computer screen she had been typing at to smile at her son, “Manny, Hola mijito. What brings you to the library? A project?”

“Um, no, not really…” brown eyes glanced over to one of the bookshelves. A girl with shoulder-length blue hair, and red goggles, gave him two thumbs up, a large grin on her lips before she left. Looking back at his mother, Manny spoke, “I, uh, wanted to know if you’d let me sign up for the Hero Collaboration Program!”

His mother tilted her head to the side in confusion, “Hero Collaboration Program?”

“Uh, yeah, It’s this whole program for first year hero students in preparatoria.” Manny began to explain as his mother turned to attend someone who wanted to check out a book, “Basically we go on a two-week-long trip to California, and meet and work with other kids from around the world. We’re going to be working with students from a specific school in Japan. Frida and I want to sign up as a team!”

“That’s very nice and all Manny but… well, why are you asking me?” His mother asked as she waved goodbye to the student.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… It’s just… you don’t usually ask me for permission with aanything since we don't... live together, you usually just go to your father or grandpapi. Never me…” Maria frowned, a hand fiddling with a hoop earring.

Manny let out a soft sigh as he ruffled his hair, “Well, yeah, but papa and -.... He would obviously say ‘yes’ and I wanted your opinion. I mean… I don’t see you as often as it is, and being with dad is great and all, but… you're my mom.”

Maria placed a hand over her heart, face full of concern, “Manny… ” Pausing, she looked around for a moment. Telling her son to wait, she walked off to speak to someone before coming back and grabbing her bag. Taking her son’s hand, she led them out of the library and over to a park. Sitting them both down at a bench, the older woman began to speak, “Now then… Is everything alright, baby?”

Brown eyes widened in surprise at his mother's question, “W - what do you mean?”

Maria let out a soft huff, “Manny, I may not be around often, but I can tell something is bothering you. I don’t think it’s my permission you were worried about.” her son let out a heavy sigh.

"Well… it's just that, ever since I decided to join the hero classes when we started preparatoria things at home have been… tense. Like grandpa has been distant and dad has been doting all over me more. Even training at home isn't even fun anymore! It’s so suffocating to even be home anymore! I’ve had to stay over Frida’s house a few times cause I just can’t take it!"

“The Suarez’s are letting you stay over?”

“Yeah, Mr Emiliano doesn’t really know what’s going on, but I think he has an idea… he’s been trying to be nicer to me...”

“When did this happen?”

“Um… Like a while ago? Uh, sometime in September?”

Maria frowns at this news. The fact that her son doesn’t feel comfortable at home anymore is worrying. Not just that, but he didn’t even come to her when this all started. Biting her lip, she asked, “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

Manny lowered his head, avoiding eye contact, “I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. I probably wouldn’t even have told Frida if she hadn’t been there when I announced my intentions for becoming a hero to them.”

His mother’s frown only deepened at this. He should know that he wouldn’t be a bother to her. No, not her son, never her son. She thought they were closer than that. “... Have you spoken to them about it?”

“...No… Whenever I try bringing it up, they just… brush it off or get distracted with something else. Besides, what am I even supposed to say to them?”

His mother bit her lower lip in thought. Her hand wandered up to gently pet her son’s head, eliciting a soft purr from him. She hasn’t been there enough for her son. Leaving her husband was difficult, but leaving Manny had been the hardest part. She would have taken him with her, but not even she was sure if her Mariachi band would do well, and they didn’t either till they finally caught a break. Once things for her had become more secure, she wanted to have Manny travel with her, to see the world, but he was already happy with his father and his best friend. She couldn't take that from him. Seeing him once a month was enough for her.

“Do you want to stay with me for a while?” She blinked in surprise at the sudden question that left her lips. Looking down, she could see the shock in her son’s face. He obviously wasn’t expecting the question either, “I mean… You can stay until you know what to say to your father and grandpa or… if you want, you could… can stay as long as you like.”

Manny stared up at his mother. He remained silent for a moment before he spoke, “Is… is that okay?”

“Of course it is, mijo. I have a spare guest room. You are always welcome. My door is always open for you, no matter what.” Many smiled weakly and hugged his mother.

“Gracias mama.” He mumbled softly into his mother's shoulder. The two sat like that for a while till Maria finally pulled away.

“Now then, let’s go get your things from the house, yeah?” She smiled softly as she whipped the stray tears from her son’s freckled cheeks. With a nod, they both got to their feet and began walking.

“So, did you really want my permission for the program?”

“Yeah, I wanted an unbiased opinion.”

“Well, I think you should go. Consider it a vacation.” She ruffled her son’s hair, “Will your girlfriend be joining you?”

“Yeah! We stopped by her dad’s work during our last recess. He was pretty okay with it. She may not be becoming a cop like the rest of her family, but they’re still pretty proud of her.” Manny grinned, “Frida and I are really excited about this!”

“I’m glad.” Maria found herself grinning as well.

Frida Suarez. Age 16. Seat 4. Student Rank 13. Hero Name: Rockster. Quirk: Quirkless.

Karate, Hand to Hand, parkour

Manuel Pablo Gutierrez O’Brien Equihua Rivera. Age 16. Seat 5. Student Rank 17. Hero Name: El Tigre. Quirk: Tigre

Has striped ears, tail and fangs. Has stripes going down his arms, legs and back just like a Tiger. Roar can temporarily paralyze anyone in range. When angry, his eyes turn green, making him lose control to instincts.

Agile, hand to hand, night vision, sensitive hearing

_______

“Good morning” A slim girl with slick waist long black hair mumbled as she walked into the kitchen.

“Oh, hey honey, you’re just on time. I made pancakes.” A large, buff man with blond hair placed another pancake on a plate.

“Good morning, Violet.” The girl's mother greeted from across the island as she fed the baby.

“Morning guys,” She ruffles her baby brother's hair, “morning Jack Jack.” The toddler let out a fit of giggles as he clapped his hands together.

“Where’s your brother? I don’t want him rushing through breakfast again.” The girl's mother looked around as she spoke. Violet shrugs her shoulders as she sits in her seat on the island and gratefully takes the plate of pancakes her father offered her.

“Probably still in the shower.” She responded, pouring syrup on her breakfast, “Uh, hey mom… did…did you look at that packet I gave you yesterday?”

“Packet?” Her father cocked up an eyebrow as he set down a plate for his son and wife, “What packet?”

“Bob, I talked to you about it last night.” His wife rolled her eyes fondly, cleaning her son's face, she nodded, “I did, I think you should apply.”

“Really?” Violet perked up, food in her mouth.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full.” Bob set down his own plate and took a seat at the island, “Last night? Oh, you mean the exchange program, right? Yeah, I don’t see why not, sweetie.”

“Ooo! Pancakes!” A younger blond shouted followed by a small gush of wind, the boy suddenly appearing in his seat.

“Dash, no running in the house.” His mother reprimanded, earning a soft sorry.

“Really? I can apply? Yes! Oh my gosh!” Violet cheers, happily wiggling in her seat.

“Apply for what? What did I miss?” drowning his pancakes in syrup, Dash glances at everyone.

“Your sister is going to be applying for a two-week hero program. She’ll be interacting and training with other hero hopefuls from across the country and other places of the world.” His mother explained. Jack Jack squealed from next to her and clapped his hands together.

“Whoa, cooool! You’ve got to tell me how it goes! That sounds awesome! I want to sign up too!” Dash bounces in his seat

“Well, you’ve got to wait till you’re a sophomore in high school since it’s a sophomore only program.” Violet explained as she waved around her fork. Her younger brother pouted at this.

“Don’t worry, Dash, you can apply when you get to 10th grade too.” His father's reassurance made the boy grin, “Now eat up kids, It’s my turn to take you all to school.”

Violet Parr. Age 15. Seat 14. Student Rank 14 Hero Name: Violet. Quirk: Flyrogensis

Can create force fields to protect herself or use in battle. Is able to generate fields to throw or break through solid objects.

Hand to hand, stealth

_____

“Good morning Rudy!” A short, plump woman greeted her son happily, placing down a plate of eggs, home styled fries and wheat toast. On the table across sat a tall, scrawny man already eating happily.

“Good morning kiddo!” he greeted with a wave.

“Morning ma, morning pop.” Rudy smiled, sitting himself down at the table.

“Did you ever make your decision on that program you told us about a few days ago, sweetie?” Millie asked, finally sitting down to enjoy her own breakfast.

“Oh that’s right! That hero thing, right?” His father, Joe, turned his full attention to his son.

“Oh, yeah, actually I did. I decided to go ahead and apply.” Rudy’s green eyes looked away from his parents and picked at his food, “I uh, I still want to become an artist but… I also really like helping people. There’s a bunch of heroes out there that have more than one job and I thought, maybe, I could do that too.”

“Oh baby, of course you can!” Millie placed a hand over her son’s, prompting his eyes to look up to meet hers, “I work as an advice column writer and even do opera, all while keeping the house spotless and putting food on the table! If you want to do more than one thing, go for it.” She gave her son a smile that he graciously returned.

“I’m so proud of you, son!” His father grinned widely, giving him a hair ruffle, “You’re growing up to be such the creative young man! And I'm not just saying that because of the nature of your quirk!”

Rudy laughed as he swatted his father's hand away, “Stop it, pop” The laughter only grew as Joe drew his son closer to give him a noogie.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough now. No messing around at the table.” Millie lectured, a small smile still on her lips. Both father and son broke apart, shooting small apologies.

Rudy Tabootie. Age 16. Seat 18 Student Rank 15. Hero Name: Snap. Quirk: Chalk Art

Anything he draws with chalk becomes real or animated. Somehow he can defy all laws of physics and draw what he needs in the air in 2D, and it becomes 3D. His only limit is his imagination.

Hand to hand

____

“I’m heading out now!” A teenage boy called into his house as he stepped out.

“Wait, Jake, don’t forget Haley!” An older woman called as she walked down the corridor with a small ten-year-old following besides her.

“Awe man, seriously?” Jake frowns, watching his mother help his sister through the straps of her backpack.

“Yes, I have to head out in…now!” His mother’s eyes widened as she looked at her watch. Giving a quick peck on her kid’s foreheads, she ran back inside, “Johnathan, we have to go now!”

“Oh, oh! Now? Oh, shoot! Head for the car, I’ll be right there!” The older man with glasses was quick to tighten his tie and grab his car keys. Rushing past the kids, he gave them both a little hair ruffle before they entered the car and drove off.

“Well, that was somethin.” The siblings looked down the steps to see Jake’s two friends staring off where their parents had gone.

“What’s with the rush?” The male wearing a beanie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hi Spud, Hi Trixie. Mom has an early wedding to get too.” Haley explained hopping down the steps' while her brother locked the door, “Dad’s driving her before heading to work.”

“Hey there Haley.” Trixie smiled, the fairy-like wings on her back flapping about happily, “Guess that means we’re dropping you off on our way.”

“Wicked.” Spud grinned as he patted the girl’s head.

“Sup guys,” Jake greeted with a grin as he skipped the last three steps, “We should get moving unless we all want to be late.” He prompted them to start walking.

“Hey Jakey, did you tell your parents about that program you want to enter?” Trixie asked.

“The Hero Collaboration Program, right? Yeah, he asked. I don’t think he’ll get accepted, though. I mean, have you seen his grades? I doubt he’ll be accepted.” Haley waved her hand about dismissively, earning a glare from her brother. Trixie and Spud shared a look.

“Uh, the program isn’t based on grades.” Trixie’s words made the young girl blink in surprise.

“It… it’s not?”

“Nah, It's just an essay where you talk about yourself and an interview.” Spud explained

“Whoa - that’s ridiculous! It’s an exchange student program! It’s supposed to be based on grades! What kind of program doesn’t base anything off of grades!?” Haley tugged at her pigtails as she threw herself into a spiral.

“It’s a Hero program, Haley. We’re supposed to learn more about the hero world while we’re there and make connections with other students. They wouldn't even let us apply unless we were in the hero courses, and you gotta have at least a 2.5 to even get those classes. I’ve got straight B’s and one C. I'm golden if I can write a good enough essay and pass the interviews.” Jake sent his friends a grateful smile.

“That’s ridiculous! A 3.0 or a 4.0 student would benefit from it more! Why are they allowing such low grades in?” Jake rolled his eyes fondly at his younger sister’s ‘good grades are everything’ tirade. He almost cried out in happiness when he spotted her school come into view.

“Alright Haley~ Here’s your school, see you later, bye~!” Jake grinned as he gently pushed his younger sister towards the school doors. The little girl walked into the school, continuing her speech. Jogging back over to his friends, Jake gave them a smile.

“Thanks for helping with Haley, guys.”

“Naaah it’s no prob bro. Your sister is just focused on perfect grades. Wait till she gets older and realizes that that’s not going to help her with real world problems.” Spud nods as they all set down their skateboards.

Trixie pats her friend's shoulder, “Technically, Spud’s right, but we’re also not gonna let your little sister bully you just cause she’s got a 4.0 GPA. Besides, I'm sure you’ll get in, Jakey.”

“Thanks guys.”

“Anytime dude.”

“Alright, that's enough mushy stuff, let's go before the warning bell rings!” Trixie waved her hands about before kicking off, her friends close behind her.

Jake Long. Age 16. Seat 5. Student rank 18. Hero Name: Red Dragon. Quirk: Huolong

Can shapeshift into a dragon. He can also transform any part of his body into his dragon part without completely shape shifting.

Hand to Hand, Karate, parkour

____

A girl with ankle long blond hair skipped down the stairs of her house. Hearing the TV on, she assumes it’s her parents and calls out a greeting, only to pause at the foot of the stairs upon seeing her cousin. “Oh! Hey Finn” She grins, walking over to give him a hug, her hair shrinking down to be a bob cut.

“Hey Fionna.” Fin grins, ruffling his younger cousin’s hair.

“What are you doing here so early?” Fionna asked as she looked around.

“Mom and dad had their anniversary trip today and Jake and Lady’s place is kind of full 'cause of all the kids, so they dropped me off here.” Finn explained, walking with his cousin into the kitchen.

“Oh, that’s cool.” Fionna looked around the kitchen to see her breakfast already prepared and covered with saran wrap. “When did my parents leave?”

“About twenty minutes ago. I would have gone back to sleep, but I figured you might not see me, and I’d end up sleeping all day.” Finn yawned, walking back to the living room.

“Good call.” Fionna giggles as she grabs a fork and walks into the living room with her cousin.

“Hey, Finn, can I ask you something?” Fionna asks once she finishes her food. Her cousin hums in response, “You were, like, a sophomore once, right?”

Finn snorts at the question. Turning to face his cousin, he gives her a soft kick on the thigh with his foot, “Dude, I’m just one year older than you.” Fionna blushes, realizing the ridiculousness of her question.

Giving an awkward laugh, she clears her throat, “Right. Well, … did you apply for the Hero Collaboration Program?” Silence filled the room. Fionna was starting to feel nervous at the blank stare her cousin was giving her. She prepares to speak, only to jump in surprise as Finn bursts into laughter.

“Oh, oh, thank glob! I thought you were going to ask me for advice with Ignis! Yeah, I did though!”

“Whoa-” Fionna could feel her cheeks heat up at that. The image of a good-looking boy with a mohawk made of flames smiling at her made her face look like a tomato, “W - why would I want advice with Ignis?!”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve seen the way you get all flustered around him!” Finn grins, earning him a kick to the side. The force making him fall off the couch eliciting loud laughter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Fionna huffed as she got to her feet and took her dirty dish to the kitchen to wash, “I just wanted your opinion on whether or not I should apply for the program! Jerk…”

With a gasp for breath, Finn rose up to his feet, his smile never faltering, “You’re going to apply?”

“Mmm, I’m thinking about it. I’m not sure, though.” The blond female sighs, dark blue eyes focused on the trickling water from the sink.

“Well, It’s not due till mid-December, right? You’ve got a lot of time to think about it.”

“I knoooow, it’s just that… I want to do it, but I’ve never really gone so far from home, I’m a little scared and nervous.” Fionna sighed, turning off the sink and putting the now clean plate away.

“You can’t think of it like that! Think of it like an adventure!” Finn grins, glancing at the clock and grabbing his backpack and Fionna’s.

“An adventure?” Fionna raises an eyebrow as she grabs her beanie that matches her cousin’s hat, only with bunny ears instead of bear ears.

“Yeah! But you gotta say it like this; AAAADVENTURE!” Finn pumped his fist in the air as he shouted, his other hand handed her her backpack. Fionna giggles.

“Alright, AAADVENTURE!” She shouts, making them both burst into a fit of giggles.

“Yeah, you got it! Whenever I get nervous or scared to go somewhere, I think of it as if I'm going on an adventure! I do the same thing when I’m lost, that way I don’t freak out about it.”

“Well, that explains why you came home with a large smile after being missing almost a whole day when we were eight.” Fionna grumbled as she opened the door.

“Yeah! I was scared, but I kept telling myself that I was on an adventure to find the castle! The castle being home. I even met a hero on the way! Did I tell you about that? It was awesome! She was so cool, it’s what drove me to become a hero!” Finn grins toothily.

Fionna blows her hair out of her face as she closes the door behind them both once outside. “I don’t think I could ever be so optimistic, Finn.” She turns to continue walking, she bumps into her cousin’s back. “Uh… Finn?”

“It’s not that I’m optimistic, it’s just that if I let my fear or nerves get to me, I would never get anything done. We’re studying to be heroes, Fionna, you have to, just, take a leap of faith.” Finn turned to face his cousin, eyes shining with resolve, “I’m not saying it’s bad to feel that way, no, it’s okay to feel nervous or scared or even sad. It’s a normal human emotion, we all feel it. What I am saying though is; don’t let those emotions overpower your mind and let it control you. You have to put yourself out there, even if it hurts you, or you regret it, at least you can say that you tried. You’ll always come out of that stronger and smarter.”

Fiona stared at her cousin in surprise. Reaching out, he gave her shoulder a soft punch, “Sign up for that program. Trust me, it’ll do you some good,” He grins widely, mischief in his eyes, “and ask Ignis out already.”

Fiona let out a gasp in surprise and punched her cousin, “Shut it, you! I thought we were having a moment!”

“Ahahah ouch!” Finn laughed as he rubbed his sore bicep, Fionna marching past him towards school. Finn was quick to follow.

“Hey… Finn…” Fionna spoke softly once the school came into view. Her cousin hummed in response, “Thanks… I never took you to be so inspirational.”

“Eh, I have my moments.” Finn smiles, patting her head

“And Finn?” A brightly smiling Fionna skipped forward to stand in front of her cousin, turning on her heel she beamed up at her taller cousin.

“Yeah?” Finn asked stopping in his tracks.

“You should totally ask out Ignis’s older sister, Lucerna~” her smile morphed into a wicked smirk as she watched Finn’s face slowly turn bright red. With a giggle, she waved at her cousin and ran to her friend group with a wave.

“F- Fionna!” Finn shouted before chasing after her, making her laugh louder.

Fiona Venture. Age 15. Seat 16. Student Rank 19. Hero Name: Bunny. Quirk: Hair manipulation

She can alter, grow out, regenerate, reshape and change the texture of her hair. Has complete control of her hair like another limb.

Hand to hand, sword

____

“Hey guys~! Have no fear, B.B is here to brighten your lunch!” A boy with green skin and hair gave a toothy grin, showing off his fangs.

“Oh joy.” A pale girl with short purple hair rolled her eyes fondly as the boy flopped on the lunch table next to her.

“Hey Gar.” Jaime gave a soft smile and half-hearted wave.

“Wh - what the hell kind of energy was that?” Garfield frowned as he opened his lunch box, “That was the most depressing ‘hi’ I’ve ever gotten in my life - and I'm dating Raven! Ah, no offense.”

“I’d be shocked if I even got offended with your antics at this point.” Raven shrugged.

Jaime gave a half-hearted laugh, “Sorry dude, I’ve just been having an, eh, day.” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, dude, what happened?” Garfield frowns

“My mom is being a worry wart about the program.” Jaime sighed, taking a bite of his lunch, “We also had a pop quiz in Mr. Valencia’s class. I totally fucked that up.”

“Oooo ouch dude. I’m sure you’ll be able to convince your mom to let you sign up. You’ve got plenty of time, too. It’s not due till December.” Garfield attempted to reassure, “Plus, Mr. Valencia like’s watching his students struggle. He’s always got that wicked smirk when he announces pop quizzes.”

Jaime snickers, “Yeah, you’re right. What about you? You gonna sign up?”

“Heck yeah, I am!” Garfield raises a fist in the air, “It sounds awesome!”

“I'm still surprised that your grades are high enough to get into the hero course.” Raven smirks at the jab.

“I’m hurt that you don’t trust my natural smartness skills, mama.” Garfield pouts, his pointed ears drooping for effect.

Raven gestures to him as she stares Jaime dead in the eyes, “Jee, I wonder why.” her plain voice made the boy across from her snort.

Garfield Logan. Age 16. Seat 7. Student Rank 20. Hero name: Beast Boy. Quirk: Shape shifting

He can turn into any animal in the animal kingdom. Has recently discovered he could also become mythical creatures.

Hand to Hand

_____

Shouta Aizawa let out a long, tired and heavy sigh as he went through the biology homework his students had turned in yesterday. He would have gone over them then, but honestly; he didn’t want to. He wasn’t too keen on doing this before his shift either, but he can’t really put it off forever. Even if he wanted to. Finally, finishing the last worksheet, he set it to the side, so he can hand them back out later. Glancing at the clock, he noted that it was almost 7 AM, and he should start heading to the school.

Leaning back on his couch, he rubbed the palm of his hands on his eyes as he let out a soft groan. He sat there for a few minutes, enjoying the silence, before letting out another long sigh and finally standing on his feet to finish getting ready. Once he finished changing, he headed to the kitchen and began preparing some coffee to take with him. The teachers 'dorms' was more like an apartment building complete with a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and livingroom. The only reason the staff even bother calling it a 'dorm' is to not make the students jealous.

When his drink was finally ready, he took a long swing, unbothered by the scolding liquid, he let out a content sigh before filling up a thermos, grabbing what he needed and heading for the door. Putting on his shoes, makeing sure food was in his cat's bowl and throwing on his scarf, he walked out into the hallway.

“Ah, good morning, Aizawa.” Ken Ishiyama greeted, making his way down the hallway.

“Ishiyama.” Aizawa nodded, locking his door, he walked the same direction as his coworker.

“You needed me to come in during the heroics class today, correct?” Ken pressed the button to the elevator.

“Yeah, Yagi is going to conduct a kind of maze race today. I was hoping you can come in and create the maze as he gives his lecture to the students, maybe sooner if you can.” Aizawa explained as they both stepped into the elevator with a third-year teacher. They all gave one another a quick greeting.

“Hmmm a maze, huh? I’ll have to speak to Yagi about the difficulty he wants the maze to be, but I can make it.” Ken nods, “Once I’m done speaking to him, I’ll work on it during my third period break.”

“I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem. Though, I kind of wish you guys had asked me yesterday, I could have made it after classes ended.”

“Yeah, sorry. You know how Yagi is. Doesn’t solidify any plans till the last minute. He hadn’t told me about it till 9 PM last night through text.”

“Yikes.” The third-year teacher commented softly.

“You have no idea.” Both teachers responded just as the doors opened to the dorm's common area. The space was filled with a handful of teachers finishing their morning routine before heading for the school. Walking past the counter, Aizawa snagged himself a muffin Lunch Rush made last night for the whole staff during one of his inspirational drives.

Entering the teachers’ lounge, Shouta practically threw himself on his chair. Finishing off his muffin, tired black eyes turned to the stack of papers on his desk. He almost let out a groan when he read the title. Is it really that time of year already? Usually he participates as a chaperone since he usually expels his class, leaving them under the jurisdiction of another teacher. Unfortunately for him, it seems like he has a class this year. A class full of problem children, great.

“Hey Aizawa! Looks like this year’s one of those few years you’ll have an actual class, huh.” Kan walked over as he skimmed through the papers in his hand.

“Unfortunately.” Aizawa sighed

“Thank the gods” Nemuri sighed as she ran a hand down her face, making Hizashi snort.

“You know, if you wanted my class so bad, I could have expelled them this year.” Aizawa drawls out flatly as he takes a few papers and stands to his feet. This made Hizashi start cackling into his hand, while the raven-haired woman let out a whine.

“Um, what are you talking about?” Yagi asked from his desk.

“Ah, that’s right, I guess this program is still kind of considered new, huh.” Kan mumbled to himself softly.

“Every time Shouta decides to expel his class, they are placed under my care, since I don’t have a homeroom class and am technically considered a substitute teacher.” Nemuri shoots an accusing finger at her friend who pointedly ignored her in favor of going through the papers, “And because of that I’m usually stuck taking his class to California for this stupid program!”

“She’s just mad that they force her to wear a more modest version of her hero costume and speak without foul language when she’s working with the kids.” Aizawa added with an eye roll, “Honestly, I don’t understand why Nedzu doesn’t enforce that here too.”

“Agh, you hurt me, Shouta! What would I even be if not for my amazing, sexy self!”

“More approachable.” The man responded as he drank some of his coffee before turning to Kan, “Alright, I’m ready to go.” Both men made their way to Principal Nedzu’s office.

“I... erm, I actually wanted to know what program you’re all talking about…” Yagi mumbles sheepishly, “Though it’s good to know that the student’s he expels aren’t actually expelled.”

“Nah, they're basically placed on a probationary period for the whole year. I can’t say his methods don’t work, though, lots of those kids learned to work for things they want and not just half assing it.” Nemuri sighed.

“As for the program, it’s a program that Nedzu had finalized during our first year here.” Hizashi informed, “It’s called the Hero Collaboration Program. Basically, around the end of the school year, all first year hero students go to America to train and socialize with other students from across the country and around the world.”

Yagi perked up at this information, “Oh! That sounds like a lot of fun!”

“Even though they censor me, it is.” Nemuri leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, “There are quite a few field trips to museums, training activities, quirk theory classes and plenty of sparring. They even have a big party with live entertainment at the end of it, all along with a closing ceremony.”

“That sounds like a lot…” Yagi spoke in awe

“It is, but they’ve got a bunch of big companies from all over the place supporting them,” Hizashi nods.

“All the other departments have kind of similar field trips.” Higari Maijima piped in as he made his way to the printer, “The second-year support department are going to leave for theirs next week, third year business had one in the beginning of December and the third-year general education will have something a week before finals in March.”

“Ah! It’s good to know the youth of today are getting many more opportunities such as this to further their education.” Yagi grinned, “If only there were programs like that when I was back in high school.”

“Well, lucky for you, Toshinori, you’re going to be a chaperone for my class.” Shouta announced with an eye roll as he and Kan walked over. Once he was closer, he handed him two pages for him to go over. Its unfortunate he can’t choose who will be the chaperone to acompany him. It’s not that he hates Yagi, he’s a nice guy, don’t get him wrong, but the guy is still very new to teaching. He supposes him being a chaperone would be a good experiance for him though.

“Done with your meeting with Nedzu already?” Hizashi rose a brow

“We just had to go over the usual rules and guidelines.” Kan informed, handing an excited Hizashi two papers, “A few changes have been made, but other than that it’s nothing new.”

Glancing at the time, Shouta almost let out a sigh in relief. He has 33 minutes before classes start. “Well, now that that’s all settled, I’m going to take a cat nap before classes.” He waved to his coworkers before heading over to his desk, where he pulled out his yellow sleeping bag. Making himself comfortable under his desk, he drifted off.

Shouta let out an annoyed grumble as he found himself being dragged out from under his desk. The warning bell hasn’t even rung yet, he’d know if it did. He has a digital clock he keeps under his desk to keep track of time. There are those rare days when he wouldn’t mind waking up or being woken up before the bell. Today, however, is not that day. Especially when he woke up to his best friend yelling at him and dragging him out from under his desk.

Shouta knows he can’t do much to get back at him without looking like a petulant child, so he opted for going completely limp. Make his friend's job just a little harder. And during lunch he may, or may not, throw a bunch of salt on his lunch when he’s not looking. Maybe he’ll even put a small pebble in his shoe just to inconvenience him. Who knows, he’ll decide later.

“Common Shou, class is starting soon!” Hizashi groaned.

Black eyes glanced at the clock under his desk, “The bell doesn’t even ring for another four minutes. There is no reason for you to wake me up and drag me.”

“Well, if you don’t get up, I won’t give you the coffee I made”

“Irrelevant, I can always take it when the bell rings.”

“It’ll be lukewarm by then”

“We have a microwave.”

“Ummm, you want to be in class on time?”

“Gross”

“If you’re not there early to give the announcement you wont be able to teach your students everything you were going to teach them and Toshinori is going to end up being the one to tell them during heroics class.”

Shouta pulled his feet away from Hizashi making him stumble back. Before he could complain, his friend was already on his feet and folding his sleeping bag. Glancing at his friend, he raises an eyebrow, “What are you waiting for?” He spoke coolly as he took the cup of hot coffee he'd made him. Shouta made sure to maintain eye contact as he drank his coffee, “Let’s go, or you’ll be late.”

The moment Shouta had closed the door behind him, he smirked at the scream of mild indignation his friend let out. Walking down the hallway, the older man made sure his steps were slow, he even took the long way there. By the time he made it to the door of his classroom, he waited for the last warning bell to go off. Once it had, he opened the door and stepped inside. The noise was quick to quiet down, and his students were in their seats. Good.

“Good morning class, before we start today’s lesson, I have an announcement.” From his peripheral vision, he could see his students exchange confused looks. Once he had reached his desk, he set down the binder he carried with him and took out the information sheets, “Class representatives.” He waved a stack of paper with a list of things they will need, Yaoyorozu and Iida were on their feet walking towards him immediately. Handing Iida the papers, he went through his binder again to pull out brochure-like guidebooks with the rules and regulations to hand to Yaoyorozu. Both teens eyed the papers, they gave them a curious look as they began to pass them out.

“If you read the information sheet, you’d see that both class 1-A and 1-B will be having a field trip abroad to America as a part of a program. The back of that sheet has -”

“What!? America?!”

“No way! That’s awesome!”

“What’s a ‘sophomore’?”

“It literally says right there on the paper, Denki.”

“I need to brush up on my English!”

“This is so cool!”

Aizawa shot his students a quirk enhanced glare, making them all flinch and fall silent. Once he was sure they wouldn’t speak up again, he closed his eyes. Rubbing his eyes with the palm of a hand, he continued, “As I was saying; The back of that sheet has everything you’d need to pack besides the obvious. As for the brochure, it has the rules and regulations you must all follow. Let me give you a quick rundown of the top 4 rules, pay attention because these are the most important ones. 1. You are not allowed to harm anyone with your quirk outside of training unless used for self-defense. 2. All property damage done outside of training with or without your quirk must be paid for - lucky for you lot the school pays for any damages done. You better not do it, though, it’s a lot of paperwork. 3. Inappropriate behavior will not go unpunished, depending on the offense it may result in program suspension for a few days or even get you sent home and possible suspension or expulsion here at school or the hero course program all together.”

“Whoa, these punishments are kind of brutal…” Kirishima mumbled.

Shouta took a deep breath before he read the last one. From the looks of disbelief from some of his students though, they already read ahead, “And lastly, your hero’s license in America is considered a permit. You are not allowed to engage in any villain fighting unless given special permission from a pro hero. If an emergency does occur, you are to only help civilians to safety. Once a pro hero appears, you must A) give them your name, B) State the situation and C) inform them of your training. If the hero decides it’s best you help tend to the injured, you are to do as you are told. If they allow you to assist them in battle, you must provide back up and not directly engage with the villain yourself unless absolutely necessary. Failure to follow this rule will result in an automatic three-week suspension of your hero license.”

“What?!” Most of his class began to complain.

“What if the hero needs help fighting!?”

“How are we only allowed to provide back up!?”

“Why can’t we engage?!”

“What do you mean ‘absolutely necessary’??”

Activating his quirk again with a glare, everyone fell silent again. This has never been an issue before, but that's because the first years aren't even supposed to have their licenses to begin with. Goddamn it. Letting out a long-annoyed sigh, Shouta began to explain, “Look. To begin with, you lot weren’t even supposed to get your licenses till next year but due to the villain attacks, things were rushed for your own safety. Also, the laws in America are very different from they are here, this applies to many other places as well. Once you are outside Japanese soil and somewhere else, you should have the common decency and common sense to follow their laws and to be respectful. Now, then, what they mean by ‘absolutely necessary’ is if the villain decides to attack you directly, you are free to fight back on the pretense of self-defense. Other than that, your priority is to help civilians out of the danger zone, that way the hero wouldn’t have to worry about them as they fight, and they can’t be used as leverage against them. If you are in a situation where the civilians are all out of danger and no other pros have arrived at the scene to help, you speak to the hero on the scene. If they give you orders allowing you to engage, then you are allowed to go into battle, however, if the pro tells you suddenly to back off, you must back off, like it or not.”

“That’s utter bullshit!” Katsuki Bakugo shouted in anger, “Why the hell should we even follow that rule?! We have our licenses; we should be allowed to engage right away!!”

“As much as I hate to agree with Bakugo, I must. Sensei, why must we do so much?” Tenya Iida asked

“It’s the law. Even if they are going into hero work, the hero licenses are treated like drivers’ licenses. First years are allowed to test for their permit allowing them to enter the scene and their top priority is to evacuate the citizens for the hero. Second years with permits must take a more advanced version of the first exam, and then they are allowed to engage in battle when they see it fit, as long as all the civilians are out of the way. Third years, retake both exams at once, after which they are given a license to become a first responder. In America, they have academy’s where heroes in training take the final steps to becoming pros. Once you finish that, you are given a pro license and are allowed to start an agency, become a hero course teacher, and many other things that I can’t bother going over.”

“Those stupid losers don’t even become pros without an extra year of school. That’s pathetic.” Katsuki smirked cockily, arms crossed over his chest.

“I… Their system sounds quite efficient, though.” Yaoyorozu spoke up softly.

“I mean, yeah, but imagine having to go to an academy just to become a pro even after having finished high school? Agh That must suck!” Mina groaned.

“Alright that’s enough. We’re not here to talk about the differences between here and there. You can do that on your own time. As for now, I want you all to remember that guidebook by memory. I don’t want any mishaps just because you forgot to read it over.” Aizawa went through the binder once more and handed the permission slips to the students in the front seats to pass back, “You all have until the end of January to turn these in. That means you all have three-and-a-half weeks to visit your family and have these signed. If you can’t visit for whatever reason, you have a fax machine in the dorms, use it. Any questions?” Nobody raised their hands, “Good. Start brushing up on your English you will need it, the trip is mid-February, next month. Now, let’s get started with today’s lesson.”

And that is the end of chapter 1! I’ll post chapter 2 whenever I finish it. Hope you guys are intrested in the story thus far! Much thought went into it. :)

Chapter 1 part 1 --> Chapter 1 part 2

-Chapter 2-

#fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #Bnha au #el tigre #the incredibles #chalk zone #american dragon jake long #adventure time #young justice #frida suarez #manny rivera #violet parr #rudy tabootie #jake long #fionna #garfield logan #aizawa shouta #class 1a #crossover fanfiction

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askaalaska-vdeppressed · 5 years ago

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Can I get uhhh fresh professor membrane x femme reader who's head of biochemistry at ML, they're working on a project together but one of them accidentally bump into an abandoned fertility drug project, shattering the vials and getting it on their skin. Basically a sex pollen situation. Where there was already sexual tension between them but now it's like, hardcore overdrive and they end up just...fucking for hours before it wears off. Sorry I'm very tired and not good w words

so uhhhh, it’s been a year. (sorry about that) But hey lets start off my comeback with a bang

@gildedmaggot hope i did this ask justice

Director of Biochemistry. That’s what your job title said. Dr. L/N that’s what your degree said. Yet, as you look out over the greenhouse where your lab technicians were currently weaving and bobbing between different species of plant, you couldn't help but feel like Gaia herself. Each of the plants here you had painstaking grown, tending and nurturing with your team. The building before you was full of hundreds of hours of man time, and no amount of insurance could ever mend how heartbroken you would be if something ever happened to it.

You knew the people and plants here like the inside of your eyelids, and yet a stranger was in your kingdom’s midst. A line of jagged- lighting like- hair stuck out among the tall leaves. Ah that was right- your boss would be working with you today. The Professor did not often come to visit as he was more than content with the work you team put out. However, it seemed that one of his projects could use your expertise. And so, information was exchanged, a meeting set and here you were.

Looking at the clock you sighed. It was going to be a long day and probably night. Your lab and greenhouse usually closed late afternoon so your workers could have dinner with their families, and you could catch some sleezy TV with your pets. However, there was no time either you or the Professor could spend during the day to meet, so you would both be staying after-hours. You felt for the man, you really did. You knew he had a family he took care of by himself. “I suppose those are the sacrifices you make to better the world” you thought as the man in question made his way towards you.

“Dr. L/N! How wonderful to see you again!” the Professor greeted you with cheer.

“Same here, how does it feel to be able to breath in a lab?” You jeered. The regular labs were well regulated, but they always smelled of chemicals and usually something burnt. That was why you insisted on any meetings with the Professor be in your lab. Your lab was fragrant with the scent of earth and flowers, you liked to think it calmed you boss. Maybe gave him a welcome change of pace.

“The labs may smell, but they smell of PROGRESS!” Professor Membrane laughed. The scene was almost movie like. His encouragement was truly unwavering wasn’t it?

“Shall we get started?” you stretched your arm out in the direction of the lab. “Maybe if we start now we can get a good 10 minuets of sleep tonight!” you joked. Professor Membrane gave an amused snort and long sigh. Just as you were about to open the door one of your team called your name.

“Dr. L/N before you go!” A young intern ran up “what do you want me to do with those extractions that we decided not to use for the fertility drug?”

“Go ahead and just set them in the lab, I’ll take care of them tomorrow” you turned as the intern walked off to see the professor patting his jacket.

“Oh, I’m sorry F/N, I forgot my phone in my office, I’ll be right back”

You watched as Membrane made his way towards the exit, then decided to get started on your work. The intern dropped off the extraction samples and you handed him your keys to lock the cabinets in the green house before leaving.

The professor returned and your long vigil began.

*Several hours later*

The night was beginning to ware on you as you and Membrane tried variation after variation on different formulas. This was the last piece of the puzzle you just knew it. After another failed attempt, the Professor stood up and popped his back.

“I think a well-deserved break is in order, perhaps after a few minutes of recharging we will get it.” He was right. He also looked worn. You found this point happened often when you stayed late together. His shoulders began to slump, and his hands began to fidget. He became…softer. Like he was releasing the control that he always held over everything and was just letting himself exist. Membrane walked over to your desk and looked around at the various decorations you had.

“It’s alright” you began walking over with a broom and cloth. “These were just here for me to get rid of in the morning” You stooped down to brush the pile together when a spicy, almost savory aroma filled your senses. It was unlike anything you could describe, but it was pleasant in the most wonderful way. From where you were bent down you began to sweat. You made a move to stand but your knees gave way as you grabbed onto the desk for balance.

You pulled out your phone to check on your pets through the security app. You were watching them peacefully sleep- something you wished you could be doing yourself- when the sound of glass shattering broke you out of your revere. Membrane was holding a stack of folders. The box of extracts- that had been previously lying of the stack of folders- was lying of the ground. Its contents were leaking out over the floor.

“F/N I am so sorry, I thought I could remove the stack.” Membrane began to taper off and began to stare at the floor. As if he was looking at a pile of literal broken dreams.

“F/N!” Membrane leaned down to help you up, grabbing onto your arms. His touch was fire on your skin, and yet you wished he’d never let go. You looked up at his face, when did he take off his googles? When did he start smelling so good? The usual smell of burnt chemicals and sweat turned into a musk. Rough and sharp. You stared deep into his eyes and leaned your head closed to smell.

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

Membrane had noticed something was wrong, how could he not? You were staring into his soul and smelling him. He leaned down to get a better grip on your arms to hoist you up, getting a whiff of the pile on the ground. His breathing began to quicken, and he noticed just how close you were. Everything around the two of you seemed to be enhanced. The sharp lights of the lab. The defined tone of Membranes shoulders under the coat. The aroma of flowers all seemed to turn savory and flavorful. The way your bottom lip quivered as you panted.

“F/N, I…. are you…?” Membrane was at a lose as he seemed to size you up right then and there. You moved your hands to hold his neck and feel the stubble of his undercut. He took in a sharp breath and let out a muttered “please”. As if he was holding the very weight of the world back from crushing you.

You made a move to stand up using his shoulders as leverage, but your legs still didn’t work. You fell with you back on the desk, pulling Membrane on top of you. Your skin was on fire, he was encompassing you and all you wanted to do was bury yourself in him. Membrane it seemed had the same instinct as he began devouring you in a kiss. An arm on either side of you face as you felt him press his weight into you. The more you had the of him, the needier you became. You grew wetter by the second as he pressed his clothed erection into you. Forcibly grinding you into the top of the desk

Suddenly with the force of thunder he stood up and practically ripped his jacket off. Shrugging it off while you weakly managed to do the same. Your core pulsated with need, as he stripped. You managed to get topless but your legs would not cooperate with you. Membrane remedied the situation, taking your bottoms and underwear in one fell swoop.

He buried his head into your thighs, breathing deeply. As if you were the oxygen he needed to breath on a foreign planet. His cold metal hands came up to part your legs, and he sunk his head further into your pussy. He wasted no time in thrusting his tongue into your folds. You let out a gasp and then a moan as he began to consume your very core. Obscene wet noises filled the air as he alternated between licking stripes up your core and taking your clit and folds into his mouth and sucking. You grabbed onto the desk as you reached your climax. Moaning out his name. He drank you up and then reemerged, looking ravenous and wild. The climax did nothing to easy the heat inside you. And the need in your center came back tenfold.

“Over, Now” Membrane commanded with a voice that left no choice for disobedience. You did your best to comply, now situated on your stomach. You felt his hands hold onto your hips. A punishing grip that would leave bruising in its wake pulled you back onto his cock. As the head made it past the first ring of muscle you heard him moan and hiss. He slowly sheathed himself inside you. And as he set fully inside you, there was a moment of clarity. The haze lifted for a moment, and the lab returned. Then as he slowly pulled out, the fog returned. There was no desk, no lab, no job, no world. Only you and Membrane. He thrust into you quickly and you just about screamed in relief. He set a punishing pace. Pistoning his cock inside your warm walls. Causing moans and grunts to join the noises of wet slapping filling the air.

He used his leverage to push deep inside you, redecorating your insides. You were close and he began to falter and lose pace. You felt the string inside you snap for a second time as he painted you white. The clarity returned for a moment and you looked back to see him panting and looking down where you two were connected. As your eye met you felt him hardening again.

It was going to be one long and pleasant night.

#Professor Membrane #professor membrane x reader #alaska writes #invader zim #invader zim ask blog #dib membrane #gaz membrane

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luminescencefics · 5 years ago

Text

the light inside

Natasha Reynolds is trying to figure her life out. She’s newly single, behind her deadline for her newest book release, and currently stuck in her best friend’s house while her home office is being renovated.

Harry Styles is just trying to complete this project. He’s in the midst of his own home renovation, but when he steps foot into Natasha’s townhouse, he finds that there’s more to life than just trying to rebuild.

A oneshot about starting over, learning how to cope, blonde haired toddlers, and finding the light that shines inside of you.

written for @majorharry‘s 20k fic celebration

prompt #27: “your hands are soft,” prompt #29: “stop looking at me like that,” prompt #33: :”I--I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

harry/ofc, 8k

Natasha Reynolds is losing it.

She’s currently sitting in the half-finished nursery of her best friend’s unborn child. It's the only room in Ellory’s home that has some semblance of quiet, and that is exactly what Natasha needs considering she’s about three weeks behind her workload. Her inbox chimes with a notification of a new email, and Natasha sighs, ignoring it as the red number on her laptop screen grows from forty-six to forty-seven. No doubt they’re all from her editor. And, no doubt that if she doesn’t respond in the next hour, her phone will start to ring incessantly.

Natasha’s life never falls out of order. She has always been a woman with a plan, ever since uni, and that mindset has paved a road of success for her that she never thought she would achieve at this early an age.

Right after uni, she drafted about twenty query letters and sent them out to various publishing agencies throughout the Greater London area. She had been penning her mystery novel series her entire last year of university, and with a stroke of luck her first book was being edited and published before Natasha could turn twenty-five.

The first book was a success. It became an even bigger hit overseas, and not long after was her agent proclaiming that she must develop a second book. Three more books and three and a half years later, the Midnight series was finished. It allowed her to travel the world, meet fans of the book, and earn enough money to own property in Mayfair.

But now that her series was complete, her editor and agent were begging for Natasha to release a new book. Natasha wanted to branch away from the mystery genre and come up with a brand new book, one that would not be developed into a four-part series.

And, considering her newly single status, it made sense to venture into romance.

As of lately, Natasha feels like she has bitten off more than she can chew. Sure, she loves writing. And sure, her relationship imploding definitely gave her the push she needed to start writing again. But she’s suddenly at a standstill—battling a difficult case of writer’s block.

On top of all of that, she’s been sequestered at her best friend’s townhouse because her home office was currently under construction. Natasha usually plans for these things, and she definitely would not have decided for her writing space to be completely transformed while she’s trying to reach her deadlines. But her ex-fiancé ended things abruptly and that office was the only space in her home that he had called his, so it only made sense to completely tear it down and start fresh.

If only the timing was appropriate.

Just as Natasha began writing the eighteenth chapter of her unnamed novel, she starts to hear high-pitched giggles get louder and louder down the hallway. She can hear the gentle thud of feet, and not long after is the door to the nursery thrown open.

“Tasha! Come play!” Maude calls from the doorway of the room.

Her hair is in wild curls and her cheeks have a gentle flush to them, no doubt from running away from Ellory and trying to find Natasha’s hiding spot. Yesterday, Natasha was hiding in the guest bathroom to get work done and it only took a few hours before Maude heard the toilet flush and suddenly found her.

Today, it only took an hour and a half.

“Hi Maude,” Natasha says with a small smile.

“Why are you in sissy’s room?” Maude asks, hobbling towards Natasha’s spot on the enormous bean bag chair in the corner of the room.

“Trying to get some work done. Where’s mummy? I thought you guys were supposed to be baking shortbread?” Natasha asks, tearing her eyes away from her computer screen and looking at Maude who has now become eye level due to the bean bag’s relativity to the carpeted floor.

“We did! Come see!” Maude’s sticky hands reach out towards the screen of Natasha’s laptop, and before her fingers can make a mess of it, Natasha slams it down with a gentle click. Maude starts giggling, reaching for Natasha until her forearms are sticky from flour and egg.

Sighing, Natasha follows after the three year old. There’s no way she’ll be getting any more work finished today.

Ellory looks up from the oven when she sees her daughter dragging her best friend into the kitchen. She gives Natasha a look, laced with an apology and a bit of pity. Ellory knows that Natasha is struggling. Her personal life has been shit the entire year, her workload is only increasing, and now her home is in a state of disarray.

“Maude, love, what did I tell you about bothering Auntie Tasha?” Ellory asks, her ivory hands resting on her cocked hip. She’s giving her daughter a pointed glare, but Natasha knows that it’s no use. Maude always finds a way of getting out of trouble.

“Sorry mummy. I just wanted to show Tasha what we made!” Maude says, holding her arms up so she can be placed on her chair by the kitchen island. Natasha just shakes her head a little, wordlessly telling Ellory that it’s okay. She wasn’t really being productive anyways, to be fair. Baking with her best friend and her daughter sounded better anyways.

“Any progress on the book?” Maude asks, pouring Natasha a cup of tea from the still-hot kettle on the stovetop.

Natasha just shrugs before slumping down on the chair next to Maude. “I’m still stuck on chapter eighteen. Diane’s going to ring my neck.”

Natasha’s editor Diane was nothing but a terrifying presence in her professional life. Granted, she was phenomenal at her job, and without her guidance the Midnight series would probably never have become the success it had, but Diane struggled with understanding how Natasha worked.

She knew about the break up. She knew that her life was in shambles. But Diane pushed through all of that. She was a career-woman first, and didn’t believe in distractions. Therefore, she continuously pushed Natasha to write.

Sometimes, Natasha just needed to breathe.

“You’ll get there, Nat. You just need to find some inspiration,” Ellory offered kindly, resting her hand on her baby bump.

Ellory was always ten steps ahead of Natasha. Starting in secondary school back in Hammersmith, Ellory was already thinking about where she wanted to apply for uni. Although they went to different schools, they still kept in touch. And while Natasha was struggling to finish her final exams and finish writing book one of her series, Ellory was falling in love with Isaac and already planning her wedding.

That happened four months after graduation. Isaac was in finance and came from a wealthy family, and not even a year later, Maude was born. Natasha was still living in her tiny flat in the center of the city, far too cramped for her liking. She was in the middle of writing book two, so her royalties from the first installment hadn’t come in yet. Ellory was already planning Maude’s first birthday when she encouraged Natasha to stop being a reclusive author and start dating, and that’s when she met Will.

Will was smart and posh and worked at the same office as Isaac. He was a career-focused, well-mannered, completely tailored gentleman, and for some reason he took a liking to Natasha’s abnormal life. They were the same age but he felt eons ahead of her. His flat was in a luxury building with a doorman, he owned more suits than he did casual clothes, he drank bourbon like her father did, and he never tried to understand why Natasha wanted to become an author.

He never pushed it though, and he never really tried to understand Natasha either. After she meets his family and they announce that their cousins are to be married, things began to change. Will’s family was very traditional, and when they found out that Natasha and Will had been together for two years and were still living in their own separate flats, Will hired a realtor and they started looking at homes in Knightsbridge and Belgravia, and they all felt too regal for Natasha’s taste. One afternoon when she’s visiting Ellory and newborn Maude at their home in Mayfair, Natasha comes across a dated townhouse that was for sale. It had crown molding and exposed brick, a dated fireplace and exposed beams that showed the true character of the place. With book three finished and her bank account expanding, Natasha puts a deposit down and they move in a week later.

Not even a year later, Will proposed. At the time, Natasha thought it was everything. She finally felt ready, and she thought that her and Will would be happy together. But then after that he started getting colder, and their relationship started feeling more rushed than ever before. She couldn’t even remember what she loved about him in the first place, and whenever she would ask him why he wanted to marry her, his response was always, “Because that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Natasha was unhappy. And when they sat down a week after they had already mailed their wedding invitations to their guests, she told him that they shouldn’t get married. She expected Will to put up a fight and beg her to reconsider, but instead he gave out a deep sigh of relief.

A week later he moved out.

And three months after that he was engaged to another woman.

The ringing of the timer rips Natasha out of her thoughts and she laughs quietly when Maude starts jumping up and down in her chair, clapping her sticky hands when Ellory announces that the shortbread is finished.

“Tasha! Will you help us decorate?” Maude asks, grinning up at her mum’s best friend with wide shiny eyes.

“Of course,” Natasha responds, placing her arms under Maude’s armpits and lifting her off the chair and sits her on the granite countertop near the shortbread that’s resting on the cooling rack. Ellory lays out different colored icing, yellows and pinks and blues, and Maude greedily sticks a finger in the pink bowl and brings it up to her mouth when Ellory isn’t looking.

Maude starts to giggle when Natasha raises her eyebrows comically, before copying the three year old and digging a pointer finger into the blue bowl. Maude’s giggles grow louder when Ellory grows suspicious, but Natasha stays quiet, smiling at Maude as if they were sharing a secret.

Midway through icing the shortbread cakes, Natasha’s mobile begins to ring from the island. She groans, knowing that it’s probably Diane asking for an update, but when she gets closer she notices that the number isn’t one she has saved into her contacts, so she brings the phone up to her ear and offers up a quick hello.

“Hi, is this Ms. Reynolds?” a deep voice asks. It’s low and guttural and Natasha instantly recognizes it as the voice of the contractor currently redoing her home office a few streets away.

“Yes, this is she,” she says professionally.

“Right, this is Harry, we’ve spoken a few times before about your renovation. I just thought I’d keep you updated. The desk was delivered later than expected so we’re running a bit behind schedule,” Harry says.

Natasha groans because of course things were running behind schedule. It seemed to be the theme of her life these days.

“Sorry?” the voice asks, and Natasha slaps a hand to her mouth, realizing that her groan came out much louder than expected.

“Nothing. That’s fine, you can stay as late as you can in order to have everything back on schedule. I really would hate to push the completion date any further,” Natasha explains, ignoring the look Ellory gives her from the other side of the kitchen.

“No problem Ms. Reynolds,” Harry responds kindly.

“Thanks for the update,” Natasha says, saying a quick goodbye before ending the call and placing her mobile face down on the countertop.

Things really weren’t going her way.

***

Normally, Natasha leaves Ellory’s house by four o’clock the latest, and by four oh five, her house is void of contractors and construction workers and painters. Ellory offers for Natasha to stay for dinner, but after Maude throws a temper tantrum and Ellory grows increasingly tired from her pregnancy, Natasha decides to just head home. She could avoid the noise of the downstairs office by hiding away in her bedroom on the floor above, and she probably should respond to the growing number of emails in her inbox.

When Natasha arrives at her townhouse, she can already hear the erratic hum of the numerous power tools from inside the office. A large white van with Styles & Co. is parked right outside her front door, with a black pick up truck parked behind her parking spot across the street. Natasha unlocks her front door and is immediately hit with the smell of sawdust.

She closes the door a bit softer than usual so her presence would stay undetected. But while she slips off her flats and discards her jacket in the foyer, she hears the heavy sound of boots come closer and her head snaps up.

In front of her is a tall man with broad shoulders. His brown hair curls over the tips of his ear and stands taller in different areas around his head, most likely from pulling on the strands out of frustration. He has a thin layer of stubble surrounding his mouth and chin, and his green eyes are wide, searching her face the same way she was searching his.

“Ms. Reynolds?” he asks, and his voice has the same timbre as the one she was speaking to on the phone a few hours prior. She cocks her head to the side in surprise, taking in his long jean-clad legs, brown toolbelt, and white henley rolled up at the sleeves, revealing black ink etched onto his tan skin.

“Uh, yeah,” she responds, her mind growing a bit foggy.

He smiles in front of her, revealing a straight set of white teeth. “Hi, I’m Harry,” he says, wiping his hands on the tops of his thighs and extending a long toned forearm.

Natasha is a bit dumbfounded for once, because she figured the Harry she was speaking to on the phone for the past week and a half was someone much older. His deep voice reminded her of her father’s, and she had never come across a contractor so handsome in her entire life.

“Hi,” she responds after she realizes his hand has been extended a bit longer than normal. His eyes stay on hers as they shake once, twice, before her hands retreat back to her sides.

“Your hands are soft,” he says offhandedly, and she’s not entirely sure if he meant to say it outloud. His calloused hands are rough from his work, and when she looks into his eyes with a smile, she can’t see any ounce of regret or embarrassment.

“Thanks,” she says, shouldering her tote bag a little higher on her body.

“We’re almost done for the day, Ms. Reynolds,” Harry explains.

“Natasha’s just fine,” she responds, and she feels even warmer when she hears his Northern accent echo her first name to her.

She likes the way it sounds coming out of his mouth.

“D’ya want to see the progress so far?” Harry offers, hoping she’ll say yes.

Against her plans of retreating in her room to stare blankly at the whiteness of her screen, Natasha nods and follows Harry out of the foyer. The hallway splits in two and he takes a left, bypassing the staircase and entering the back part of the house where Will’s office used to be.

The room is much brighter due to the lighting fixture only having light bulbs without the lampshades. Natasha explained to Harry on the phone that she wanted the room to not be as cold and uninviting, and when he recommended painting the chandelier, she agreed instantly. White tarps were placed over the original hardwood flooring with paint buckets and rollers placed haphazardly around the room. Two other burly men were on the far side of the room near the big bay window, sanding down the large wooden desk and attaching different pieces to the furniture to make it the focal point of the room.

“Wow,” Natasha announces breathlessly, stopping in the middle of the room and looking around with wide eyes. It was such a contrast from what the room was before, and she could feel the weight on her shoulders growing lighter and lighter.

“It’s not nearly finished,” Harry says from behind her. Natasha just shakes her head, realizing that he probably doesn’t understand how much this room transformation actually means to her.

“Oi! ‘Arry! Where’s the cabinet?” One of the voices calls out. He’s older than Harry and has a few wrinkles surrounding his face, but he has kind eyes. His accent makes Natasha smile, and when he looks up he gives her a grin in return.

“Got distracted by the pretty lady, I reckon?” He repeats, and the man to his left cackles. Natasha looks over her shoulder just in time to see the flush creep up Harry’s neck, and she giggles a bit to herself.

“Enough of that, you two. Finish up and I’ll go grab it from the garden,” Harry says, his voice thinning as he retreats towards the back entrance of Natasha’s home where most of the furniture and supplies were situated.

“It looks great, guys. Thank you for your hard work,” Natasha says to the two men, watching as they stop their previous tasks and give her matching grins.

“No problem, lass. Reckon you’ll write another bestseller in this room, aye?” The darker haired man says. His accent is much deeper than the previous man and Harry combined, and Natasha laughs a bit when he mentions her writing.

Before she could respond, Harry is back heaving a large cabinet in front of his chest. Natasha jumps to the side, shocked at how strong he actually is. His long arms were wrapped completely around the piece of furniture, with his large hands fanned out over the doors in order to keep them from opening. He grunts as he places it on the floor in front of the two other men, standing up and wiping his brow with sweat.

Natasha really needed to stop staring.

She coughs to herself, averting her eyes even though she can feel the two other men’s gazes from across the room. She’s sure if she looked over they would have amused looks covering their faces.

“Right. Anybody need water or anything? Tea?” Natasha asks kindly, praying deep down that nobody actually needed anything and she could make herself a brew and hide away in her bedroom for the rest of the evening.

“We’re good lass, thank you,” the older men say, before grabbing a power drill and getting back to work.

“I’m all set, thanks though, Natasha,” Harry says, standing right in front of her. She really wished she didn’t love the way her name sounded leaving his mouth.

“No problem. I’ll leave you boys to it,” she announces, nodding her head before turning on her heel.

Before she enters the kitchen, she chances one last look over her shoulder, and she’s met with bright green eyes and a boyish grin.

She skips making her tea and runs straight upstairs, closing her bedroom door with a loud thud.

***

The next morning, Natasha wakes up much later than expected. After Harry and his crew had left, she went downstairs and made herself a late dinner. After an explosive phone call with Diane, Natasha managed to write two chapters that definitely were not up to her standards. It took her much longer than usual to write, and after a cup of black coffee that she only saves for emergencies only, she couldn’t fall asleep.

She wakes up to the sound of power drills and the smell of paint.

Ellory has called her twice already and texted her enough times to earn an eye roll from Natasha. She knew she was expected over there two hours earlier, but she needed rest. She responds as she’s traipsing down the stairwell in boy shorts, a tank top, and an old flannel button down. Her hair is in a bun and she hasn’t bothered putting her contacts in, and it’s only once she reaches the bottom of the stairs when she realizes that she isn’t wearing a bra.

Harry’s standing before her, green eyes blown wide. Natasha isn’t sure if it’s from her thin tank top and lack of appropriate undergarments, or if he’s just shocked to see her in general.

“Natasha—uh, hi.” He sounds breathless and she just gives him a tired grin, noticing the same two guys from yesterday hauling in different materials from the back garden. The door is open and the chill November air settles into the ground floor, and Natasha crosses her arms over her chest subconsciously.

She hopes Harry doesn’t notice, but she watches his pupils dart down for a millisecond before shooting back up, and her cheeks start to flush.

“Morning Harry,” she replies. “Want some tea? Coffee?”

She starts walking towards the kitchen without waiting for a response. Natasha can hear the heavy clunking of his boots, so she can only assume that he’s taken her up on her offer. He only responds once she’s filled up the kettle and turned the burner on.

“Uh, coffee, black. If you have it,” he asks cautiously. He’s leaning on the doorframe of her open kitchen, unsure if he should step further into the room. Natasha just nods before turning the coffeemaker on, adding grounds to the appropriate compartment and waiting for it to heat up.

She turns around then, resting her tailbone on the lower cabinets of the kitchen. Harry saunters forward, before sitting down on the barstool across from her, resting his arms on the countertop. She waits for him to say something.

“Figured you’d be at work or something,” Harry says after a beat.

“Slept in, I suppose.” Natasha shrugs, pivoting on her heel and grabbing two porcelain mugs from above and placing them on the granite.

“Sorry if we woke you,” Harry says, watching as she pours his coffee before grabbing her tea bag and pouring the hot water from the steaming kettle into her matching mug. He thanks her quietly when she places his mug in front of him.

“Nonsense. I should have been up hours ago,” Natasha responds as she’s steeping her tea.

She watches him idly as he wraps his long fingers around the mug. Without thinking, her eyes drift down to his left hand, second spot in from his pinky finger. It’s bare, and she squints under her glasses to try and see a tan line in the place where a wedding band should be. Maybe he doesn’t wear it while he’s working, she thinks to herself.

Harry of course is watching her, and he doesn’t need to mimic her inquiries in order to make an educated guess that she is in fact single. The foyer is filled with women’s jackets and high heeled boots, and in the two weeks he’s been working on her office, there’s been no trace of a man coming and going.

He doesn’t say anything, though. Just continues to let her stare.

“Will you be here all day?” He asks finally, watching as her brown eyes dart up to his face. She doesn’t seem embarrassed that she’s been caught.

“Probably. The glory of my profession—I can permanently work from home,” she offers with a hint of amusement, and Harry laughs softly to fill the space.

“Well, I’ll make sure we stay out of your hair,” he says, taking a large gulp of his coffee and standing up from the chair.

Natasha just smiles. “Don’t worry about me.”

Harry smiles back. “Cheers for the coffee,” he says, grasping the white mug in his hands and exiting the kitchen before taking a right and following the hallway down into the office.

Natasha goes back upstairs and writes three more chapters. When she checks the time and realizes that it’s a little past noon, she goes downstairs and hears silence. She enters her kitchen and prepares a small salad, and when she finishes to clean her plate, she notices the white mug resting on the drying rack.

She smiles for what feels like the fifteenth time that day.

***

Natasha and Harry have fallen into the habit of having tea and coffee together each morning. She starts staying home to finish her book, ignoring Ellory’s questions on what suddenly has changed for her.

“Inspiration,” Natasha would respond, offering nothing else.

They don’t really talk about much, her and Harry. She tells him about her book and he tells her about his house that he’s almost finished renovating in Chiswick. He tells her that he grew up in Cheshire and she tells him that her family home is about a thirty minute drive away. They don’t talk about the reason why she’s remodeling the office or why Harry is the only thirty-two year old Natasha knows who isn’t engaged or married.

Harry estimates that the remodel should be finished in about a week’s time, and Natasha somehow feels a bit sad about that. At one point she schemes of a way to delay the remodel, to ensure that Harry will be around for a bit longer than seven days. But she knows she’s ridiculous. She knows he probably has way better things to do than hang around her house in Mayfair.

One afternoon after she’s finished writing chapter twenty-nine, she hears a loud bang from the room below her. Immediately she flies down the stairs, takes a sharp right, and enters the office with wide eyes. In front of her, the coffee table that was supposed to be where the seating area would be is in shambles. The glass covering has cracked, and she checks the white tarp for spots of blood.

Rory and Gareth, Harry’s workers, are swearing at each other. They obviously figured that the glass would stay intact from the shipment center they ordered it from, but when they opened the box, they found that it was in twelve different pieces. She notices Harry in the corner, frustratedly pulling at his hair.

“Everyone okay?” Natasha asks, mainly directing the question at Harry. She can sense his annoyance from the other side of the room.

“We’re alrigh’, Natasha. The fuckin’ idiots who packaged the table clearly did a terrible job at it! It’s fuckin’ fallin’ apart!” Rory says loudly, his voice getting louder with each curse that passes his lips.

“It’s fine, I’ll reorder another one. Just please be careful when removing the glass from the house, I don’t want anybody to get hurt,” Natasha orders, watching as Rory and Gareth reach into their back pockets to retrieve gloves. They start picking up the glass shards slowly, before placing them into the cardboard box.

Harry just watches her, feeling the frustradness leaving his body. She’s very gentle, and watches the guys like a hawk, ensuring that they don’t get injured. Before they’ve finished, Harry announces that they can go and take their lunch break. Rory and Gareth thank him repeatedly, announcing that they need a smoke after the table debacle.

“I made too much stir fry, if you’re hungry,” Natasha says once the boys have driven off to eat their lunch in the park.

“Starved,” Harry replies with a grin. He follows her down the hallway and into the kitchen, admiring her long legs under her leggings. The jumper she’s wearing is big and warm, and his eyes latch onto her right shoulder, watching as the fabric hangs revealing smooth white skin.

Natasha fills up two bowls and they sit at the breakfast nook on the far side of the kitchen near four windows. He watches as she slides her glasses up her forehead, resting them like a headband in her dark hair. He thinks she’s the prettiest girl he’s seen in a long time.

“How’s the book coming along?” He asks after a few bites.

“Surprisingly, not as terrible as I thought. I’m actually right on target to finish it on the deadline,” Natasha replies. And it’s true—she’s gotten more writing done in her busy townhouse than she ever did in Ellory’s home, hiding away from Maude in closets and unused bedrooms.

“That’s great. You didn’t want to wait until your office was finished?” Harry asks, and Natasha can almost feel the follow up question coming.

“Didn’t want to fall behind schedule,” she replies quietly, waiting for him to just say it.

“Why did you decide to do a full renovation right before your deadline, then?”

And there it is.

It’s not like she still cares for Will. Because those feelings for him have been left in the past. Although it took her a little while to fix her messy heart, the sudden news of his brand new proposal practically catapulted Natasha into officially feeling nothing for him. But, whenever she tells the story to somebody, she’s always hit with a pitiful look. Everyone always tells her the same things: I’m so sorry, and, I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel, and, you’ll find someone much better than him.

She didn’t want Harry to look at her that way. She didn’t want to hear her name fall from his lips at the end of one of those sentences.

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Natasha says, deflecting.

Harry pauses, knowing.

“Didn’t mean to overstep,” Harry says, holding up his hands in surrender.

Natasha just shakes her head, takes another bite, and racks her brain for anything else to say to take the attention away from herself and her failing relationship.

“So, what about you? Where are you hiding the ring?” She asks, noticing the way Harry practically chokes on his chicken and rice.

“Sorry?” He’s completely confused.

“Your wedding ring. I assumed you didn’t work with it, which is smart, because it’ll practically get ruined with all the hammering and sawing you do. Plus, you’re always on the phone in hushed conversations, and Rory and Gareth are always talking about the pretty girl you never shut up about, so I assumed…” Natasha’s voice trails off as she notices the pained look fall across Harry’s face.

For the first time in a long time, she’s said too much.

“Why do you assume I’m married?” Is what Harry chooses to ask her.

She’s grown quiet, unsure of how to respond. “Well, you’re in your thirties. And you’ve recently renovated a home in Chiswick. Most people who live in Chiswick plan on having children to fill those rooms up.” Natasha suddenly starts wondering if her logic is flawed.

The pained expression on his face grows bigger, and she watches as he gently places his fork against the glass bowl, seemingly finished with his lunch.

“I was in a relationship. We were together for awhile, and I was planning on surprising her with the house in Chiswick because I was ready for the next step. She wasn’t. She left and I spent a year renovating a house that had three bedrooms next to a school by myself.” He stands up, walking halfway towards the door before turning around and looking at Natasha.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” He says, anger radiating off of him.

Natasha isn’t sure how to respond.

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Harry says sadly, shaking his head and looking down at the tiled flooring. “You never bothered to ask.”

And with that, he walks out the front door and she can hear the tires of his car skid away.

Natasha spends the rest of the night holed up in her room, typing and retyping chapter thirty. It stays unfinished.

***

Three days goes by and Natasha feels absolutely horrible. She tries to avoid going downstairs as much as she can, because she knows the second she sees Harry’s face she’ll start feeling even worse. She sneaks out the front door when she knows they’re working in the back part of her house. Instead of going to Ellory’s, she walks and walks around London. She ignores her emails, ignores her book, and starts analyzing why she’s so messed up.

It was horrible of her to assume that Harry was married. He’s spent the past few weeks drinking coffee and chatting with her, and he was the closest thing she had to a friend in a long time. All of her other friends were Will’s friends, sans Ellory, so when they broke up and he left, they stopped inviting her around.

Harry was the first person who actually tried to get to know her. And Natasha kept continuously keeping him at arm’s length. She didn’t want him to ask the questions that everybody else asks, but thinking about it all now, she knows that Harry would never look at her the same way the rest of them did.

She was forced into a world she didn’t fit into. She was simply Natasha, a girl who loves to write, can sometimes forget to make her bed, and always puts too much sugar in her tea. She ignores her scary editor and she can only make stir fry and scrambled eggs, and she spent the last few years of her life feeling vastly insignificant compared to Will and his elitist friends. She shouldn’t have made assumptions about Harry, because that’s what people have been doing about her for the better part of her twenties.

There’s a reason why her writing increased tenfold when things were going well with Harry. He was kind and beautiful and inspired her, and now that things are shit, her writing has been horrible. She’s having trouble connecting words into sentences and she knows that’s because she needs to set things straight with Harry.

When she gets to her front door, she doesn’t even stop to pull it shut completely. She’s on a mission, her legs dragging her down the hallway before she can even peel her trainers off her feet. She enters the room without saying hello to Rory and Gareth—instead she eyes the curly headed boy in the corner, leveling shelves before she calls out his name.

She watches his body turn rigid. Rory and Gareth look between the two of them as if they know too much. They try and get back to work, but Natasha can feel their eyes on her. Harry lowers the leveler and looks at her with a blank look on his face.

“Can I talk to you, please?” She asks, and she’s pretty sure he only agrees because he can hear the desperation in her voice.

He follows her out into the back garden, past the tools and materials and into the verandah. Most of the time she sits here with a book and a warm mug of tea and forgets about the world for awhile. But now, she’s hyper aware of Harry’s eyes on her frame, and suddenly she feels much smaller than usual.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, brown eyes meeting green.

“Natasha—”

“No let me finish.” Harry’s lips shut tight and he nods slowly, watching Natasha take a deep breath in and out.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have assumed anything about you. The reason I asked you to renovate my office was because it used to be my fiancé’s. It didn’t work out, it was all too much, and then a few months later he was engaged to someone else.” She pauses, waiting for the look of pity, the awkward apology, the acknowledgement of her sadness.

Instead, his eyes are focused on hers. And she continues.

“I wasted too much time with him. He made me out to be this person I wasn’t, and whenever I was with him, I felt inferior. It felt like I had to dim my shine so he could glow the brightest for the both of us. I was so stupid, ya know?”

Harry doesn’t answer, and she doesn’t expect him to.

“I chose this house. Our agreement was that he got the office. But when he left, it took me a while to figure myself out. And then when I heard he was getting married, I changed everything back to the way I wanted. I got new linens. I bought new mugs. The last thing was the office.” Her eyes are downcast, staring at her Nike’s. She knows that Harry probably wasn’t expecting her to unload all of this on her, but she needed to do it.

Suddenly, she sees the toes of his leather work boots touching her black trainers. Her eyes shoot up and Harry is standing right in front of her, closer than ever before, and he’s looking at her so intensely and she feels warm all over.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says so softly that Natasha has to lean in to hear him.

“I, uh—you’re welcome. I should’ve told you that a few days ago, to be fair,” Natasha replies, her cheeks feeling flushed.

Before he can say another word, or possibly step a few inches closer so their lips are touching, Gareth calls out Harry’s name and she can almost hear the whine lodged in his throat. He looks as if he doesn’t want to leave, as if he’s anchored down to the flooring of the verandah, but Gareth calls out again and Natasha just tells him that he should go, and their warm bubble is suddenly popped.

That night, Natasha writes three more chapters and has the best sleep of her life.

***

Before Natasha can even comprehend, it’s the last day of the remodel. When she wakes up, Harry is waiting for her by the foyer like usual. She makes him his black coffee and she drinks her tea, and just before they part ways until the afternoon for lunch, Harry asks her if she could step out for the day until they were completely finished.

“Are you hiding something from me?” Natasha asks, cocking her head to the side and trying to persuade Harry into telling her. She hates surprises, and was never fond of them growing up. So whatever Harry had up his sleeve, she wanted to know.

He just gives her that grin of hers she’s grown to love. “No more questions. I’ll see you at five.” And with that, he places his hand on her lower back and shoves her gently towards the stairs.

“You’re infuriating,” Natasha says, lying through her teeth.

“And no peeking on your way out!” Harry shouts from the back of her house.

Natasha begrudgingly obliges, deciding to spend the rest of her day at Ellory’s house with Maude. For the first time in a while, she goes over without her laptop. Instead, she brings a children’s book for Maude, and the three of them spend the afternoon playing games and running around. When Maude goes down for a nap and it’s just Ellory and Natasha lounging on the sofa, Ellory finally acknowledges her good mood.

“What’s got your spirits so high? Or should I dare say, who?” Natasha just laughs, shaking her head to try and distract from the growing redness creeping up her neck and settling on her cheeks.

“It’s nothing, El. For once, I’m just letting things happen without planning beforehand,” Natasha explains, this time actually believing herself.

“Well, I for one am excited,” Ellory says, grabbing her best friend’s hand and giving it a tight squeeze. No matter what happens in Natasha’s life, she’s always been grateful for Ellory’s love and support. And sometimes, that’s all you can ask for.

With four creeping up, Natasha starts getting anxious. Maude overheard Ellory and Natasha talking about the renovation, and she can sense her mother’s excitement in the air. She starts begging Natasha to let them come see it with her.

“Of course, Maude. You’re always welcome at my house.” Maude grins and wraps her arms around Natasha’s neck, and just like that, she feels her anxiousness settle.

Ellory wraps Maude up in a trench coat, and the three of them tread over towards Natasha’s townhouse. Natasha keeps clicking the lock screen on to check the time every thirty seconds, and Ellory just stays quiet, eyeing her best friend suspiciously. Maude is positioned between the two, her small hands grasping one of Ellory’s and Natasha’s.

When they reach the front door, Rory and Gareth are settling into the white Styles & Co. van on the street. Natasha walks up to the window, knocks gently, and waits for Rory to push the button to lower it.

“Miss Natasha,” Rory says with a smile. Natasha grins back, and there’s no denying that she’s grown fond of these two men the past two weeks.

“I guess this is it, boys,” she says sadly, watching as Gareth gives her a knowing look.

“I’m sure you’ll see us around, lass.” Natasha just rolls her eyes, because of course they know that she’s grown extra fond of their boss. They have been watching them for weeks now, laughing to themselves and saying more with just looks between the two of them than words ever could.

“Thanks again for everything,” Natasha says sincerely.

Rory just grins, reaching out and giving her forearm a squeeze. Words aren’t needed.

“Auntie Tasha, come on! Let’s go see!” Maude calls out impatiently from the front steps. Ellory is still holding onto her hand, but her eyes are on Natasha with an amused look.

Natasha walks by them and reaches for the door, feeling Maude wrap her tiny arms around her left leg. She grins down at the toddler before grabbing her hand and dragging her into the foyer, discarding her coat and boots at the door.

“Five on the dot,” Natasha hears from down the hallway. She starts to smile immediately, hearing Maude ask Ellory in the background who that voice was. Ellory looks just as confused as her daughter, and suddenly, Harry is in front of them.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a light patterned button down shirt, opened enough so that Natasha can see his thin white tank top underneath. For the first time since knowing him, he’s wearing Chelsea boots instead of his work boots. He looks even more handsome dressed up, and Natasha can’t help but blush when looking at him.

“Who’s this?” Ellory asks, although she can already tell that this is the boy who’s made her best friend unequivocally happy these past few weeks. Harry extends a hand in greeting, and Ellory looks at Natasha with a smirk on her face.

Maude is hiding behind Natasha’s leg, hand still wrapped around her kneecap.

“Maude, do you want to say hello to my friend?” Natasha whispers, watching as Maude’s big blue eyes look up at her, then over to Harry, then back to her.

She nods before walking in front of Natasha. Harry crouches down so he’s eye level with Maude, and Natasha can’t help but feel the swell in her heart.

“Hi there, I’m Harry,�� he says, gently sticking his hand out to shake.

Maude wraps two of her hands around one of his, shaking it up and down a few times until she giggles quietly. “Hi Hawwy. I’m Maude.”

“That’s a pretty name. How old are you?” he asks, grinning when her personality starts to shine through in front of him.

“Fwee! Auntie Tasha says I’m the best fwee year old she’s met,” Maude announces, and Natasha grins down as Harry’s green eyes meet hers.

“I’m sure your Auntie Tasha is right.”

Maude begins to babble and Ellory reaches out to grab her hand, shushing her so that Harry can show them the office. He leads the way, and Natasha starts feeling butterflies flutter in the pits of her stomach. She’s not sure if it’s from Harry or the office or both, but she can practically hear her heartbeat in her ears.

Just before the office comes into view, Harry stops short and Natasha almost runs right into his back.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Harry starts, “but I found some boxes in the storage room and I figured an author should have a library so, I sort of took the liberty of making you your own bookshelf.” He looked bashful, but curiosity was eating her alive, because she knows exactly what boxes Harry’s talking about.

They were the culmination of her favorite books since she was a child. Collecting books was what made her want to write her own, and her tiny flat in the middle of London was filled to the brim with them. But when she moved into the Mayfair house with Will, he only offered her the bookshelf near the kitchen nook that only held about fifteen novels. She had kept the rest stowed away in the storage room, allowing them to fill with dust, unused.

When Natasha steps around Harry and the office comes into light, she’s floored. Her hand shoots up to her mouth in awe, and she can practically hear her heart beating out of her chest.

The original brick flooring that Will had covered up in favor of a more traditional hardwood look was finally given the light of day. Surrounding the wooden door on each side was an archway of bookshelves, curving around the door. It had seven shelves on each side with an eighth over top in the middle, each filled to the brim with all of Natasha’s books.

“Harry…” Natasha is not one for stunned silence, so this is a first for her.

Harry looks sheepish as Maude ogles at the sheer amount of books. “Mummy, is this every book in the world?”

“In Natasha’s world, my love,” Ellory responds quietly, watching her best friend in awe.

Natasha walks through the door and the room is lighter than anywhere else in the house. It reminds her of the verandah in the back garden that she’s grown to love, filled with white wood and green plants. The coffee table has new glass, the love seat and matching chairs are tan and pale yellow respectively. Her actual office desk is white and vast and exceptional. Her laptop and desktop are placed up top, with her best selling books framed on the side. A giant blush pink office chair sits on wheels with her favorite bay window behind her.

She’s absolutely floored. Maude being the toddler that she is runs straight into the room, gasping at everything in awe. She tries to climb on the desk chair and Natasha can see Ellory begin to scold her daughter, but all she can think about is Harry.

Harry.

She turns around and he’s right where she’s left him. His bashfulness has grown to sheepish, and with one enormous grin, she runs towards him and engulfs him in the biggest hug she could muster.

He leans back, surprised at the gesture, but then his strong arms snake around her back and settle on her tailbone. Her arms are locked around his neck, and she can feel him bend down and breathe into the crook of her neck.

“I don’t know what to say other than thank you,” she whispers, her lips falling over the swallows tattooed under his collarbone due to their height difference.

“You’re welcome, Natasha.” There’s her name again, falling beautifully past his lips. She removes her hands from his neck and leans back so she can look into his deep green eyes. They’re standing close to each other again, just like they were in the verandah, but this time they both have no desire to let go.

“The bookshelf—I just. It means so much to me. I don’t know how to repay you,” Natasha says breathlessly.

Harry just smiles softly. “You deserve it, Natasha. You don’t have to repay me. I wanted to do this for you.”

Before she could react, Maude suddenly appears below them, her tiny fist tugging at the bottom of Harry’s jeans.

“Do you think you could make me a bookshelf, Hawwy?” Maude asks shyly.

Natasha looks at Ellory, and for the first time in five years she actually feels something. She feels excited, she feels hopeful, she feels as if everything is starting to make sense to her. And Ellory knows this, and she looks at her best friend with the warmest smile she could muster.

Harry is crouched down in front of Maude. “Of course I can. Whatever you want.”

Harry looks up and Natasha is giving her a look that he hasn’t seen before. He can feel Maude giggle excitedly in front of him, her little hands leaning on his thighs, but all he can think about is Natasha and her brown eyes.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he jokes, standing up and wrapping his arms around her body again.

“I can’t help it, I’m just really happy,” Natasha replies, feeling the light inside of her burn brighter than ever before.

And for the first time in a long time, Harry can feel it too, and together they shine brighter than the sun.

#majorharry20k #harrystylesfanfiction #harrystyles #new fic #1dff #updates

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frodos-bizarre-adventure · 4 years ago

Text

@gingerreggg woop part 5

Heads Up- Part 5 (Joseph x Bust! Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

"So I guess I'll be staying over tonight!" Suzi said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Fine with me!" Joseph agreed. "I'm very sure Caesar will appreciate the company. Don't you, Cae?" The clay bust, placed next to Joseph on the sofa, nodded in agreement. "Sure, why not."

"But first, get this stupid gear off me," Caesar whined, referring to the hat and bowtie collar Joseph had fitted on him, which he was helpless to remove.

"Why?" Suzi asked. "It looks quite pretty."

"Get it off me or I won't stop complaining," Caesar demanded sternly.

"Alright, Caesar, don't be a grumpy head," Joseph muttered, as he removed Caesar's accessories, placing them on a nearby chair.

That evening, Joseph decided, was movie night. He had a television in his living room which was mounted on a wall opposite of the sofa. Reclined on the plushy couch Joseph and Suzi chowed down on pepperoni pizza as they cheered and shouted heartily at their film of choice, which Caesar didn't understand-- it was a movie about some violet bald man with a weird glove, who somehow kills half the heroes.

Caesar rolled his eyes. "This is the dumbest shit I've ever seen," he complained. He tried to bounce away, but to his dismay, he found that the soft, pillowed surface of the couch didn't work well for his hopping means of transport. He pushed against the couch with his neck, but instead of moving forward, the couch just sprang up and down like a trampoline, leaving the frustrated bust with little forward progress.

He sprung up and down on the couch in vain, but got nowhere, only managing to tip himself over onto his side, landing sideways on his cheek. "Joseph!" he cried desperately. "Get me off this thing!"

Joseph snapped from his distraction of the movie to aid Caesar. "Hey, don't do that. You're made of clay and your face will deform." Joseph scolded, lifting Caesar upright again.

"Get me off this couch." Caesar insisted. "I don't like this movie."

"Alright, suit yourself," Joseph shrugged, lowering Caesar back onto the floor. Feeling his neck base touch the smooth, hard floor of the apartment again, Caesar was once again able to hop, and wasted no time bouncing away toward Joseph's room.

The rest of the night Joseph and Suzi binged film after film, while Caesar aimlessly bounced and thumped back and forth through the house, doing what would have been bored, nervous pacing, if he'd had legs.

"Can you keep it down?" Joseph called from the couch as Caesar noisily thumped along.

"Fine," Caesar complained, trying his best to reduce his jumps to smaller, quieter bounces.

It wasn't long before Joseph and Suzi fell fast asleep, splayed out on the sofa like limp noodles while the television droned on in their sleep. Caesar bounced around, bored out of his mind, but finally glad to have some alone time.

But as he hopped across the living room floor, a gleam of light caught his eye.

The door had been left slightly ajar, likely by Joseph when he ordered pizza. And for the first time, since his sudden, fateful awakening, Caesar glimpsed, through a sliver of the door, the world outside the apartment. Curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to investigate.

Trying to bounce as silently as he could to avoid waking the snoring artists, which was no easy feat given that his dense, heavy clay form slapped noisily on the wooden floor with each jump, Caesar slowly and carefully made his way toward the door. He tried to peek through the door, but he couldn't see much.

The front door wasn't very heavy, so Caesar tried to push it open for a better look. Bracing his neck against the floor, he quietly pushed the door open with his forehead, and with a few short hops forward the door swung outward, revealing the great outdoors to the little clay figure.

Caesar's eyes widened in amazement. For the first time, he glimpsed the neighborhood, where Joseph's apartment was. It was in a quaint little suburb, with chains of joined houses on either side of the street, and to a bodiless head laying on the floor, everything looked far, far bigger from his lowly perspective.

The night sky shone with a brilliant quarter moon, which hung high in the sky in late evening. There were no people around in the streets, only the bright street lamps and little gleams in windows, and Caesar decided to do a little exploring.

He hesitantly hopped forward onto the doorstep, which was made of smooth marble. Caesar paused to take in the new sensation of the cold, solid surface beneath his neck stump, which felt strange and new, unlike the hardwood floors of Joseph's house that he'd hopped on for the past few days. Caesar couldn't help a smile.

Slowly Caesar bounced forward into Joseph's front yard. The strange new sensations filled Caesar with excitement, outdoors for the first time since his creation. The feel of the ticklish welcome mat under his base. The cool wind that blowed against his painted skin. The smell of fresh-cut grass, the sound of crickets chirping and the faraway drone of cars, and the series of lights that illuminated the deserted nighttime town.

The outside was lovely.

Caesar continued to bounce forward, but winced painfully once he got onto the concrete steps leading to the sidewalk. It felt uncomfortably rough and gravelly against the skin of his neck base, irritating like walking barefoot on the pavement -- and probably worse, as his whole weight landed with each little jump onto the cement. Glancing around for softer ground for some relief, he spotted Joseph's grassy lawn, and made a beeline for it, sighing in relief once he began to feel the hard, abrading ground underneath him give way to soft, cool grass that rustled gently with each landing of his heavy, sculpted torso.

-------

Joseph awoke on the couch, realizing he'd dozed off halfway through Fast and the Furious 2 and awoke three movies later. Suzi was still fast asleep, and Joseph decided not to rouse her.

"Hey Caesar?" he called out, realizing the sudden silence and the absence of his thumping hops. There was no response, and welling up with concern, Joseph stood up from the couch, searching for his artwork-slash-roommate.

His heart sank in horror when he saw the door wide open. "Shit!"

Panicking, Joseph rushed outdoors. He knew that Caesar, legless and armless as he was, couldn't have gotten very far, and looked about the vicinity frantically, his eyes darting left and right in search of his project--no, friend-- until, with a tremendous relief, he spotted the bust hopping about on his lawn. Thankful that there wasn't anyone around to see him, Joseph quickly rushed toward him, and before Caesar could have time to respond, he felt himself suddenly being grabbed from behind, lifted into the air, and carried back inside the apartment.

------

"CAESAR! What the hell were you thinking!?" Joseph angrily scolded. "You could have gotten hurt!"

"It was my first time outside, dammit!" Caesar angrily yelled back. "I was having a wonderful time and you just had to spoil it for me!"

"But what if someone saw you? What if someone stole you? What if you found yourself in danger? You have no legs to run away with, or arms to defend yourself! You can't hop fast enough to save your own life! You're just a helpless, bouncing ball of clay against the big, bad world!"

"AND HOW I WISH I WASN'T!" Caesar furiously screamed, in a voice far too powerful to have come from a small, foot-tall sculpture.

Joseph's demeanor suddenly softened, however, as he saw Caesar's face--contorted into a weeping grimace, his mouth warped in a frown and his eyes narrowed in grief and frustration. Though no tears could flow from his eyes, being made of clay and all, Joseph knew at once.

Caesar was crying.

"Hang on, Caesar," Joseph said sadly, as he locked the door behind with Caesar now safely inside. "I'll just go tell Suzi."

Joseph went back to the living room to awaken his fellow artist: leaving his sobbing sculpture sitting in the hall.

"And how I wish I wasn't," he said softly.

---------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #gingerreggg #jojo's bizarre adventure #caesar x joseph #caejose #heads up #bust!caesar #sculptor!joseph #battle tendency #hands of life au

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unmanageable-day · 5 years ago

Text

Come to me

previous chapter. 1 - 2

PART 2.5 - next

Summary. After what happened in a relationship in the past, you found it difficult to trust someone with the gentleman image. 'Gentleman' seems like merely a concept and it was probably impossible for someone to be a genuine one. Now that you're stuck with the number one gentleman at campus for a group project, how would you cope with the one and only Joshua Hong?

Genre. College!au, non-idol!au / friends to lover

Pairing. Joshua x y/n x a little bit of S.Coups, and a sprinkle of Wonwoo

"Somebody is definitely making a move." Johnny grinned wide at you.

"What nonsense are you talking about?"

"You and Hong Jisoo. That boy is looking at you like you're the universe. At this point you should need a sunglasses, because, geez his eyes were full of sparkles even I am blinded."

"I knew it. I'm not the only one who realize that," Suhyun added excitedly. Apparently she had been holding it in, not sure to share it with anyone just in case she was wrong. Now that Johnny had blurted out his thoughts, she just got ecstatic as well. Suhyun was never that of gossipy girls. Only for you, she would make an exception.

"Babe, not only our project is making a progress, you and Joshua too. That Hong dude always sits next to you now. And the after class study dates? Suhyun and I can't relate. We do everything online." Johnny talked with his face. Suhyun nodded in agreement beside him.

Joshua Hong and his obvious attempts to get closer to you had become a hot topic among your close friends. Starting from him now being your constant chairmate. Him bringing you some snack or coffee when it was a whole day of long lecture sessions. Him asking you to get lunch together—which you only accepted when either Soonyoung, Seokmin or Mingyu was there with you, otherwise you would certainly declined and make up some excuses. And up to the point when he got to introduce you to his circle of friends (of course, he owed it to Mingyu and Seokmin), which got you overwhelmed to see a bunch of guys whose name you can't remember right away.

You sighed, slightly annoyed that your friends teased you although you understood perfectly that they never meant harm. "FYI, it's literally studying. Working on the group project. No dates or whatsoever," you said, rolling your eyes.

Is it really just studying though?

But why did you find yourself arrived at Joshua's house to work on your project presentation on a fine Sunday afternoon?

He was the one suggesting this idea. You originally proposed to do this on Monday after class along with Johnny and Suhyun. Rather than opposing you, he kind of convinced you that finishing prior to discuss with Johnny and Suhyun would save much more time. Moreover, you were experienced in group discussion that remained unfinished on after class session.

"Is it okay if I make a call before getting started? But I think it's gonna be taking around 30 minutes. Is that okay?" you asked Joshua who was setting his dining table with his laptop and some books.

"Yeah, of course."

So, there you were now, roaming around Joshua's living room while talking on the phone with your family. And, no, Johnny cannot know about this.

Joshua decided to prepare some snack while you were on the phone. He was humming cheerful random melody as he poured milk, ice cream and some frozen berry fruit mix to the blender. Just in time, he turned off the blender when he saw you walking towards the kitchen, still having your phone stuck on your ears. That was when he heard you talking with such a sweet, affectionate tone. What surprised him more was that you kept calling the exactly same name of his throughout the phone call. He was so not gonna lie how it made his heart flutter and suddenly butterflies joined to tickle his stomach.

"You did a great job, Jisoo. I know, I miss Jisoo lots too. I promise I will visit soon. Until then, Jisoo has to be nice and don't fight with Jihee, okay? I love you too, Jisoo. Bye."

As soon as you hung up, your eyes met Joshua's. You immediately realized his blushing face and you knew perfectly why. "My niece's name is also Jisoo," you told him with a nervous chuckle. "Strange, huh? I've got so many Jisoos around me."

He smiled at you while offering the freshly made berry shake. "Sometimes I forget that Jisoo is my name. Everyone calls me Josh, Joshua, Shua, even Joshi or Jo-sshi. Only few people, excluding my family, call me Jisoo. I unconsciously always introduce myself as Joshua too."

Sipping your berry shake, you just nodded, simply because you didn't know how to carry on this conversation. Just before it got awkward again, he continued speaking.

"You can call me Jisoo too if you want."

Well, this is another level of awkward, you thought. A confused, full of uncertainty smile was slowly curved on your lips. Your brain just lost its function to arrange good words to respond to him.

Does he want me to call him Jisoo? What even am I to him? Even I wouldn't consider him as a friend yet. I would probably call him Joshua-nim or Joshua-sshi for the rest of my life if I never found out that we're classmates.

"Just to officially add more Jisoos in your life," he said. A chuckle managed to disguise him being nervous.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #svt imagines #svt college au #svt au #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader #seventeen joshua #seventeen fics #joshua imagines #kpop fanfiction #post by yourblinkies

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eolian-234 · 4 years ago

Text

The Supplejack

Previous Chapter Eighteen: Existing

Chapter Nineteen: A Phone Call

As the weeks passed, Peter struggled in vain against the extra workload of his sophomore year classes. The balance between work, school, friends, and himself was everchanging, ever in threat of tipping off the edge of the proverbial blade. Though the latter was pushed to the side with increasing frequency and his bed was becoming more of a rare luxury much to his dismay.

The tub of tabouli, hummus, and carrots sat uneaten in front of him while Mike explained again why the discourse surrounding the new Firefly show was important to their group and the larger culture abroad.

“It’s a western in space, guys, how can you not like it? Plus, Nathan Fillion is working it. You know he’s damn charming.”   

“It’s basically a soap opera and you know it.” Midge said, arms crossed in front of them.

Mike sputtered and Ned stepped in before anyone else would get more offended. Still pouting his lips, Mike turned away from them and started shoveling down his lunch. Midge just sighed. Peter shifted in his seat wondering if he should say anything when Ned bumped shoulders with him.

“You okay?”

He forced a smile on his face. Ned waited for an answer, his eyes open and earnest. The expression made something in Peter’s chest ache. This bitter tug nestled down behind his ribs. Ned was dragged along in all of this. What started as befriending a lone boy in an empty classroom had turned into trying to gather intel from two of the biggest corporations in the world. Still, his friend was right there for him, ready and unfailingly patient with a smile.

“Want to hang out this weekend?” Peter asked instead of answering the question.

He wanted to do something. To have fun and get out of the house for once. His work shifts were pretty stacked up but it was worth it to rearrange them. Ned agreed if his answering smile was any indication.

“Yeah, dude. There’s this cool exhibit downtown about brainwashing. Maybe weird but it could be cool.”

“Sounds fun.” He said.

“Yeah, they get all these big companies to put something together. I’m surprised you know who didn’t do it. I hear Oscorp is holding one in the fall.” 

Peter rubbed his chest. The cafeteria noise rushed toward him. All the laughter and words and echoes pressed against him, weighing down. His smile felt wobbly to him but hoped it came off as sincere.

“We’ll have to check the one this weekend out.”

Ten hours later, Peter sat at his desk. His head resting in the crux of his arms crossed on the scattered papers and notebooks. He shifted in the chair and tried not to think about the coming week. The to-do list was somewhere in the mess under him. Every bullet point added another reason his headache was growing at an alarming rate.

One of the pages peaked out from under the curve of his elbow. The model car on it was dissected into the median and coronal planes showcasing all the guts. Why was he tinkering with it after all this time? No one would see it now. Red marks, newly etched into the paper some sleepless night would probably never leave this room let alone the top of his desk unless it was carried through the trash.

The thought of acknowledging he was finally abandoning the project left him gripping onto the papers tight in his palms. Even all these months later, Peter found himself tweaking their project and trying to improve upon it. Lee, the head intern, had said she was always available. Maybe he could email it over and then she could send it onto whoever her boss was? The chain of command wasn’t something he was entirely familiar with but eventually it had to land in his hands.

His phone buzzed.

Out of habit, Peter flipped it upside-down without looking to see who it was from. He tapped his finger against the wood until the sound stopped. He only just managed to sigh when the buzzing started again.

Phone calls were the worst. He hated answering the phone, hated talking over people and not seeing their facial expressions, and hated how goodbyes were always awkward. Above all he hated the way he could never talk in a coherent manner. Always felt like he was overstepping or worse in some people’s eyes, being too quiet.

Phone calls from anyone besides May were trouble. His aunt was in the living room so that meant it was bad. He could be expelled from Midtown or one of his friends could be hurt. Ned’s hands bloody. Julia’s heart stopping. Flash’s chest not rising anymore. Peter’s chest throbbed at the images. With sweaty hands he grabbed his phone off the desk and looked at the ID.

It was from an unknown number.

His thumb hovered over the green button as it rang but he didn’t answer.

If he didn’t answer it was easier to pretend nothing was wrong. The worry barely concealed by his expression was better left unfounded. He kept reading through one of his source books on mechanical engineering but the words held no meaning. His eyes kept returning to the flip phone sitting all innocent inches away from his hand.

His fingers twitched and the phone rang again.

Peter breathed in deeply before flipping it over. He read the number over again. Tried to memorize the digits quickly as if they would hold some significance the longer they were in his mind. The ringing continued and continued for what felt like forever.

His Uncle Ben came to mind. Without letting him linger for too long again, he flipped his phone open and pressed enter. The other side of the call was silent. There was no breathing or anything to indicate someone was there.

“Hello?” The crack in his voice echoed in his ears.

“Am I speaking to Peter?”

The voice was smooth - pristine in its cadence and rhythm. Unlike his own, the words were spoken with no hesitancy or irregular pitch. There never was, either. It was a voice Peter would recognize anywhere. Hearing them say his name now made him realize how much he missed them. It was a strange thought considering. How could he miss a voice so much?

He scowled. It wasn’t fair to minimize Friday to that of just their voice.

“Fr - Friday? I…How did you get this number?”

There was another pause. Peter wished he’d said something else instead of beginning with such a sharp tone. He could’ve asked how they were doing or greeted them with enthusiasm. Instead the panic from earlier manifested in more of a bark. Heat flooded from his neck up to his ears.

“I have scanned through the Stark databases and found this number on Boss’s phone.” He couldn’t help it. Peter laughed throwing a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. Friday’s silence was enough to confirm they heard but it didn’t dampen his smile.

This was Friday he was talking to. Peter couldn’t believe it and if the smile on his face was wide and almost made his cheeks hurt, he could almost forget about everything else.

“You stole my number from Mr. Stark’s phone?”

“Peter, as I said I scanned...”

“You did! Friday, I can’t believe it. Wait, is everything okay? Did something happen? Is … Mr. Sta- everyone’s okay, right? I mean you don’t have to tell me anything but is everyone…”

“Everyone’s fine. I��m sorry to have made you worry. I would also like to apologize for keeping silent. I called you friend once but haven’t acted in accordance to what constitutes that bond.”

Peter’s neck burned. Friday’s voice sounded as hesitant as Peter felt and he was glad, for once, he wasn’t in the Tower so they couldn’t hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

“No need to apologize. I just assumed when I left…”

“That has no bearing on it. There were other factors. Some I can talk about some I can’t.”

“Is, is this why you called? What can you talk about?”

Peter imagined Friday was taking a large breath in from the gap between answer and question. His heart, already beating far too fast for a regular school night, increased its speed.

“You need to come back to the Tower, Peter.”

His ears filled with cotton inducing a fuzzy ringing. It grew louder and louder until he found himself leaning his forehead against the desk. The phone rested where it fell on the table by his clenched hand. He scooped it up despite the trembling in his digits and brought the phone to his ear again.

“Friday?” He rasped out.

“You need to come back to the Tower. There are matters here that would… benefit from your presence.”

There were too many pauses in the sentence and a million phrases flowing through his mind in response. Following on his immediate responses were a plethora of images of the Tower. He conjured filled hospital beds, condemned signs, and most haunting, empty rooms. The worry gnawed at his stomach not caring about Friday’s reassurances. Something had to be wrong. Why else would Friday contact him? It had been months.

There was nothing more he wanted, but all he managed to say was, “I can’t.”

The pain it would bring was all too easy to think about. He’d had a taste of it at the finale internship presentations. The sheer amount of people buzzing with excitement was enough to dull the awkward hurt but Peter couldn’t forget how hard it was to breath once he was in the Tower again. The familiarity burned at his throat. What was a safe haven reduced to just some place he used to know had hurt more than he was willing to say out loud.

Friday wanted him to go back there after everything. No awards or parties would be there to distract. He would have to walk down the hallways and see the beautiful skyline only glimpsed at that height. He would have to see Mr. Stark.

What would he say? What would he do?

“I can’t work on the project anymore, Peter.”

It was devastating in its simplicity. A twist of the metaphorical knife Peter had never even felt embedded in his side. It was a rope taken away as his head sunk swiftly under water. All the progress he’d made even if he didn’t realize it, was gone in the moment those words were said.

Mr. Stark was clear. Final.

At the time there were a thousand words he’d wanted to say but then and now it didn’t seem right. Now, the sense of betrayal no longer stung because it didn’t matter that Mr. Stark knew all about the Weaver and Oscorp. In the end, no amount of explaining or conversation would fix anything because there was nothing to fix.

The steps he took through the door were some of the hardest in his life. His surreptitious glance back resulted in seeing Mr. Stark bowed and facing away from him. The frightened look crossing over his face before hardly seemed to matter in the face of those words. It told Peter all he needed to know. Peter wasn’t wanted. Who wanted to look after a confused teenager? His time there was over.

Or so, he thought.

Months and months passed and now Friday was on the other end like nothing happened. Was there an option besides declining?

He would have thought Friday didn’t know what happened but that was impossible. They knew basically everything that happened in the Tower. It could be some misplaced urge to help Peter. It didn’t make sense. Despite their reassurances, he couldn’t help but worry something was the matter and despite his caution, Peter was curious.

Still, he repeated the two words again. They sounded more like a plea than a decision.

“What you are saying is you won’t not that you can’t. I know you only have one job and the owner has already given permission. I’m asking with sincerity. I need your help…. We need your help.”

Peter took his time to exhale. He stared at the phone in his hands, tracing Friday’s number with his eyes.

He thought of all the reasons not to go back. But the latest realization barged forward. It was with surprising ease that Peter thought about all the help Mr. Stark had thrown his way. All of the encouragement and kindness he showed without Peter even understanding what was happening.

The question wasn’t if he wanted to go back. He would always want to go back. The Tower in a way had grown to be his home. A safe space he never felt drained from after being there. No one expected anything more than Peter could give and the peace of working there, flexing his mind and being with people who understood him was intoxicating.

He could admit to himself he wanted to say yes without thinking despite every reason to say no. He had to be cautious about this, he decided. Peter had to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt like before. That no one would get hurt.

“Friday, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

Only when he knew could Peter go back. Only then would Peter step foot in the Tower again.

Enjoy!

Next Chapter Twenty:

#peter parker #irondad #peter parker fanfic #irondad fanfic #ao3 #Shy Peter #the supplejack

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trickstermiraculous · 5 years ago

Note

Been reading your prompts fic so here’s one: Marinette makes a game of counting how far into a conversation someone gets before Lila relates it to herself with a lie. Adrien joins in and then Kim joins in cause it’s fun and randomly calls out numbers. Soon Kim is making bets on it with Marinette. (Prompt is from a discord server I’m in btw in case you post it and it gets recognized)

A Simple Game

School used to be a safe haven for Adrien, a chance to be away from his father and the suffocating silence that was his house but recently with Lila’s arrival back at school. Adrien finally understood what people meant by school being hell.

She was everywhere, always clinging to him, way more than Chloe ever did at least she gave him room to breathe but with Lila, there was no chance of that happening.

Marinette also looked worse than ever while Lila did accept my deal in order to get Marinette back to school, Lila went straight back to making rumours about Marinette and what’s worse people have started to believe them like Marinette, the girl who was our everyday Ladybug. Sadly there was no chance of me stopping them since Lila started using my father as a threat in order to get what she wants and I knew she would follow up on that threat considering she has followed that threat she gave Marinette.

Trust me when I say that I wanted nothing more than to use cataclysm on Lila right then and there but I can’t do that, I’m supposed to be a hero not some sort of murder.

Right now, I finally got a chance to hang out with Marinette along with Kim and Alix since Mrs Mendeleiev gave us a group project and would not allow Lila to try and join us since it was random and wouldn’t be fair on the rest of the class.

We were studying at Marinette’s house, Alix was sitting on the floor typing on her laptop while Kim was reading a textbook on Marinette’s Chaise, Marinette herself was sitting by her desk on her computer while I was sitting quietly on a bean bag her parents brought me so I wouldn’t have to sit on the floor if I didn’t want too.

Sitting here though in silence was a surprisingly nice change from what usually happens when doing group projects. Whenever I did studying with Nino, Alya and unfortunately Lila, it was never quite what with Alya and Nino being romantic that an Alya tries to get me to ask out Lila which Marinette did warn me about when we started to hang out more outside of school when I had the chance and I noticed that she didn’t seem as nervous around me and well she kind of just blurted out everything.

Her crush on, the many attempts on asking me out along with a few admittedly creepy thing like the schedule which she apologised profusely and considering the fact Alya and the other never really stop it more like in encouraged it, I understand why she didn’t realise it was wrong until later.

Anyways back on track, the silence was nice and for once work was getting done but unfortunately, it didn’t last. Alix phone dinged and as soon as she looked at it she groaned, “What’s wrong?” questioned Marinette as she reaches for an apple from the tray of snacks that her parent’s brought us.

“It’s Lila in the group chat, Juelka brought up the fact that she wanted to try out for some modelling jobs and Lila started going on about how she knew a bunch of famous models and she would try and see if they could help her train” respond Alix glaring at her phone,

“I’m assuming this the girl’s group chat without me in it right” replied Marinette with a sigh,

“Yeah-” Alix was cut off by Kim quickly asking “you guys made a group chat without Marinette isn’t that a bit harsh, I know she and Lila don’t get on like the rest of you guys but like that’s just harsh”.

Adrien silently nodded while looking a Marinette with guilt not realising how bad her friendship with the other girls in the class had gotten. “It was Alya’s idea, not mine, you know how stubborn that reporter can be so it’s not like any of us could say no” stated Alix typing out something on her phone while the other three sat in silence.

That was then Marinette spoke up, “hey ever notice how every time someone brings up something about what they enjoy or what they want to do after school, Lila always says that she knows someone in that industry”,

“That’s a good point actually” replied Alix with a frown,

“How about this, why don’t we see how many times she does it in a week?” stated Marinette,

“But why?” questioned Kim,

“Because you guys might actually see the reason on why I was so quick to call her a liar” replied Marinette,

“I’m in” announced Adrien, surprising both Alix and Kim but both quickly agree.

And so the game began. It didn’t take long for them to start counting because according to Alix, it happened about five times in the group chat over the weekend even sending screenshots to the four’s own group that they set up for this game. Then when Monday came, they had already one point in the first lesson due to Nino bringing up a film making competition that he wanted to partake in since the prize was working with a famous director the same on who directed the movies Adrien’s mother used to be in and of course Lila started to talk about how she knew the director and if Nino wasn’t able to win, she could try and see if she could get the director to still meet with him.

Not only did it annoy Adrien that she would lie like that about a close family of the Agrestes but also the fact that she would get his best bros hopes up like that. Adrien knew as soon as she found out that Adrien was in contact with the director, she would try to get him to set up the meeting so that she would be able to take the credit in order for her not to be found out.

Halfway through the week when the number of points went over twenty when Alix and Kim both look at each other and then Marinette and then back to each other before they pulled out their phones and started googling Lila’s lies.

Both were very unhappy when they found out the truth but before they told the other, Adrien and Marinette both sat them and told them why it was a bad idea considering the pair were either being threatened or blackmail by the Italian snake. Even then Kim and Alix were adamant on making sure the others knew so the four took another route on getting Lila exposed one that was less obvious but simple.

They decided to get the other in on their game and sure enough, one by one, the class all joined in. Sure they were confused at first but playing the game for a week each member started to fact check Lila’s lies. By the end of the month, everyone knew Lila was a liar and the threats and blackmail the girl had given Adrien and Marinette so almost everyone was wanting revenge but they knew the school wasn’t going to listen or do anything since they believe that Lila had a disease that didn’t exist so instead, they went to someone much better, someone who would be quick to punish the lying snake. Lila’s own mother, Martha Rossi.

Martha Rossi was quite different from her daughter, sure the lady was a bit dizzy but considering the amount of work she got from the embassy, it was understandable. Martha was strict though and scary when angry, which became very apparent when she stormed into the school the day that the class sent her an email which contained every lie, threat and blackmailing that the snake had done since she arrived in Paris with evidence of course.

You could hear the women yells from their classroom. Everyone just carried on with their work like it was nothing while Miss Bustier and Lila looked confused. The best part was when Martha Rossi came storming into the class, yelling angrily at her daughter in Italian, Lila got progressively paler at every word while Miss Bustier tried to calm the mother down but Martha was not having it as she just told Miss Bustier simply in a stone-cold tone, “I don’t want to hear anything from the teacher who would believe a child’s word without checking for proper evidence or even fact-checking with their parents”.

Martha then demands Lila to grab her bags because they were going home so that they could have a long chat but before she left, she thanked the class for bringing this to her attention while their school didn’t and that she was sorry for the damage that her daughter had done, promising to fix what she could to the best of her ability. Marinette was quick to thank the women on behalf of the class and made sure that Martha knew none of the class harboured any ill will against her for something that she never knew about.

From then on the class got better, fixing their friendships, apologising to Marinette for not trusting her and going so far as to bully her while they protected the actual villain, fixing the damage done to the ladyblog and them also getting a better teacher than Miss Bustier who was undergoing training courses on how to deal with bullies, liars and doing proper investigations when someone tells them that another student has done something horrible or against school policy. Their new teacher, in fact, was Mrs Mendeleiev who was quite happy with giving proper punishments to those who deserved it along with helping the actual victims.

Author's Note: Sorry that I haven't written in a while, I've had writer's block. Along with the fact that I have been getting black into anime more, meaning I haven't felt the inspiration to write more fanfiction for the miraculous fandom. I wrote this at like midnight so if there's any mistake, I will go back and fix them at a later date.

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#ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #ml salt fic #mild class salt #class redemption #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #platonic adrienette #alix kubdel #kim le chien #alix sugar #kim sugar #lila rossi #lila salt #lila exposed fic #lila exposed #lila's mother #ask #answered

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fell-in-love-didnt-you · 5 years ago

Text

Carry Me Away With You: SnowBaz Fanfic

Simon Snow doesn't expect much from life. His father has drilled into him from the beginning two things: work alone and never trust vampires. Simon breaks both rules in a matter of days. After he collapses at the doorstop of an unknown house, he's pulled into a world he has no idea how to escape from. The question is: does he want to?

...

AH! This is my Carry On Big Bang 2020 fic. I'm so excited to have finally posted it. It also comes with AMAZING artwork by the extremely talented @thehoneyedhufflepuff on tumblr (who's also a fantastic writer on Ao3 with the @ The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff - I'd definitely recommend the Fire-verse fics). Please, please, PLEASE show them some love both on here and tumblr. The artwork is magnificent and exactly as I envisioned Simon and Baz in this time period. (scene from fic) (title scene-isn't is beautiful?!)

Here’s the link to the tumblr post!

Thank you @carry-on-big-bang for giving me the opportunity to work with such an amazing artist and fellow fic writer and for putting on such a wonderful collaboration project. I have truly enjoyed every interaction I had with @thehoneyedhufflepuff and encourage everyone reading this to go give them a follow and read their amazing work on Ao3.

As always, here’s the link to the Ao3 version in case you prefer to read that way: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150491/chapters/63625177

On to the fic!

Lover.

The word felt foreign on Simon’s tongue, like a heavy alcohol or a long-rusted coin that played on the tip of the tongue. There was nothing else, though. ‘Fling’ felt like a small blanket: it covered the important parts (the lovemaking, the flirtatious smiles, the sharing of a bed), but it also left out the parts that made Simon’s legs turn to jelly (the deep conversations, the sweet cheek kisses, the touches that lingered for hours afterwards).

Partner, however, did not fit either. Partner implied official courting, and this…was not that. Official courting entailed walks in the park with a supervisor, love letters sent in perfumed envelopes, and an eventual proposal of marriage.

It did not entail laying bed together with only centimeters of space between, breaths mingled in the shared space. It certainly did not entail what had occurred a mere half-hour before now. ‘Partners’ did not entail premarital relations, and those relations certainly did not occur between a supernatural creature of nightmares and a boy raised to kill such creatures.

Simon placed his hand tentatively on the side of Baz’s face. His eyes were closed, but Simon knew better; sharing a bed for the past month had taught him when Baz was truly gone to the world. The pounding pulse point and flickering of eyes gave the vampire away. He was resting, but not out.

“Darling,” Baz drawled, and it made Simon flush (not that he wasn’t already red from head-to-toe; Baz had that effect on him). Baz’s eyes cracked open, and he flashed a smile that forced Simon to see what made vampires so alluring to the regular eye. “Darling, do you have any idea what time it is?”

A laugh bubbled out of Simon’s chest, and he looked past Baz’s head to stare at the grandfather clock that stood ominously in the corner of the room. It was one of Simon’s favorite objects: dark blue, a sun and moon facing opposite each other, stars sliding past as did the hours of the day. Baz had bought it for him a mere three months ago, placing it in their shared chambers so Simon knew the time.

Baz was weird like in the sense that there were no clocks beside this in the manor. Time is cyclical, he had explained to Simon once. He hated it because it reminded him that of what he was: stuck moving forward in his mind while his body remained in the past. Simon progressed forward, though, and he had been adamant about having at least one way of telling time. He’d even withheld himself from Baz until the vampire had conceded, a glare on his face the entire time.

Simon often stared at that clock as they made love.

The clock read slightly past two in the morning, and Simon told Baz as such. Baz hummed in response and placed his hand on Simon’s neck, thumbing a mole that rested above his pulse point. Often, that mole would have a ring of purpled bruises around it after nights like this, and the very thought had Simon suppressing a smile. Baz, however, did not conceal his affection, and he placed a long, slow kiss to Simon’s lips.

Simon had long ago (give or take three months) begun to categorize the kisses they shared. The most common were the ones shared in private that would have the public outraged: brushes of lips against cheeks and foreheads even though they were not married. What a scandal, Simon thought distantly. Those kisses occurred in passing when one of them would be running to the study or just about to leave the house for some reason or another. Simon adored these brushes of affection that had no real bite; it meant whatever this thing that was happening was more than sex.

Simon ached for the bruising crush of lips that occurred when they fell into bed. He yearned for the swelling of lips and clashing of teeth and maybe the accidental cut of a fang-on-lip. Even the tiniest bit of venom would set his body aflame, and Simon likened it to the fever, only where Death had touched him before, Baz now did.

The ones Simon treasured above all others were these kisses: no heat, no bite, but also not something entirely platonic. A feather-light kiss on the cheek could be taken romantically if it were between a man and a woman, but Simon knew that, if ever caught, Baz would claim brotherly affection for Simon, explain that that’s how his Parisian family acted, that physical affection was common between two friends. These kisses, on the other hand, would have them thrown in jail. Simon would be forced to flee over the crime of homosexuality, and Baz would pay his way out of a scandal.

There was no denying that these kisses that occurred in this bed were of the utmost romantic quality and kind and would put many husbands and wives to shame.

Baz drew back and smiled, his eyes still pleasantly closed. He sighed through his nose, and Simon allowed himself to steal a glance. This was so new, and he was afraid that one wrong look would shatter the beautiful bubble he’d surrounded himself in. Baz had probably done this with many people before. He was…older. That’s all Simon knew. There was no discernable year or century to pin him down in, but Simon realized months ago that Baz had seen the sun rise on this Earth possibly over one-hundred-thousand times.

Baz had probably been in love before. The thought made Simon blue. Baz was his first everything; Simon was Baz’s first nothing.

It is probably love, Simon thought as Baz slowly peeled his eyes opened. There was no explanation other than a spell of sorts (not like a witch’s spell, but like a spell of sickness) that Baz’s vampiric charm had placed Simon under. His father used to warn him that vampires were excellent charmers and that the only way to save oneself from their grasp was to remain alert at all times.

Simon’s father would be rolling in his premature grave right about now.

The sheets shifted between Simon’s legs as he pressed closer to the lukewarm body across from him. Baz never ran hot; his skin was usually cold to the touch. Nights like these, however, coerced the little blood in Baz’s body to rise to the surface, turn him a color like the living, and make him vampirically burn up (though vampirically burning up meant room temperature for humans).

Baz pressed his lips into the mop of curls atop Simon’s head and breathed in deeply. His arms came to wrap around Simon’s back, and his hands splayed across Simon’s shoulder blades. He said something, though it was muffled by Simon’s hair.

“Hm?” Simon asked, turning his face upward to look directly at Baz. He pushed the raven hair out of Baz’s eyes. “What did you say?”

Baz subconsciously turned his cheek into Simon’s touch, and Simon bit at his lip to keep in a smile. “I said,” Baz murmured, turning back to Simon, “that we are spending Christmas in the Surrey House this year. I forgot to tell you this morning.”

Simon giggled at that, and Baz lightly slapped his side. Of course Baz had forgotten to say that this morning; other…happenings had occurred. Simon had also giggled because calling it the Surrey House put the building to shame. In Dorking, the manor (as it should be called) sat on acres of sprawling land that included part of a natural river, a small section of local woods, and a large field. Baz’s family’s business was still a mystery to Simon, but he at least knew how Baz made his money. Wine was apparently very expensive in large quantities, and the cellar of the manor could hold the worth of an entire village.

The manor itself was no laughing matter. Crafted with the finest cobblestone, it had stayed in Baz’s family for centuries, and even with what little Simon actually knew of Baz’s family, the amount of rooms in all the property Baz inherited gave away enough to know that many children had been born. Because Baz was the eldest (cue laughter) and had lived the longest (cue even more laughter), all the property had been passed to him.

And now Simon reveled in it. The large London townhouse they occupied for the majority of the year was Simon’s favorite. The memories here were richer than any fine chocolate or wine that Baz could procure.

“Why can’t we spend Christmas here?” Simon asked quietly, his fingers idly playing with the long strands of Baz’s hair. “We’ve never just stayed-“ Simon stopped himself prematurely. He wanted to say ‘home’ but couldn’t let that word slip from his mouth. He’d stayed with Baz in this house for almost three years, and he’d never left to live elsewhere, but the word ‘home’ insinuated something Simon would not admit to himself. He started again: “We’ve never had Christmas here.”

Goosepimples raised on his arms as Baz’s hands drew nonsensical lines across his back. Baz lowered his head down, and his lips were pressed against Simon’s forehead as he explained, “We’ve never done a lot of things, darling.” The pet name caused Simon to blush and stutter, and he could feel Baz’s smile against forehead. “We always spent Christmases in our other properties when I was little.”

Simon thought about that for a moment. He did not have very memorable Christmases growing up. His greatest gift as a child had been a stocking with three ripe oranges in it. Simon had known the money his father had sacrificed to buy such fruit. With Baz, however…he’d never had such wonderful gifts in his entire life, and they hadn’t even been given to him for celebrations.

Simon recalled one morning where he’d complained of his weathering shoes, and not even four hours later, Baz had presented him with the nicest pair of leather boots he’d ever seen. Sure, they were not to be worn in public (Simon had received an entire outfit from Baz’s…sister? ...for going out in), but they were gorgeous and, no doubt, expensive.

Then there was the jewelry - the gorgeous amethyst ring that sat on the bedside table had been a birthday present last year. In truth, Simon had not expected anything from Baz in any capacity when they’d decided he could stay in the house for an indefinite amount of time. He’d not expected that, in the middle of the hottest summer in a long time, Baz would nonchalantly pass him the most expensive thing Simon had ever set eyes on and insist he keep it. He’d not expected Baz to tell him it was an heirloom dating back at least one-hundred years, and he’d not expected to later cradle it to his chest and cry.

As if to add to their conversation about Christmas, Simon looked over towards the window and saw snow falling outside. The snow had been coming down steadily over the last few months, but it had only begun to stick recently. He smiled to himself as he watched the windowsill become more and more covered. Snow had brought him here in the first place; it was only natural he be thankful for it now.

…

He was almost dead; that Simon Snow was sure of.

He could not feel his toes, and the crystalline breath puffing out from his mouth was becoming smaller by the minute. He was dizzy, hungry, and more tired than he’d even been in his short life. A cut on his forehead trickled blood into the snow beneath his feet, and he barely had time to register why or where he was bleeding before he fell onto the pavement beneath him.

Thank Christ he was in an alleyway. Had he been in the street, feet would have stepped over and onto him, and he might crack a rib. Although, Simon thought to himself, this was a fate worse than death. Perhaps he should let the Lord have Their way with him. If this was to be his death, then why not welcome it?

Simon could not go home. His father would never accept a defeat like this. Simon could practically hear the frustration that would be present if he tried to make his way back to their little house on the outskirts of town. How was it that Simon had been out hunting vampires for three months and not caught a single one? How was it that Simon had left a strong, capable, young man with fervor in his eyes and returned a skeleton of his former self?

The truth was simple: Simon was very nearly dead. He knew he’d caught the scarlet fever, and Simon also knew it would kill him like it had killed thousands of other.

Simon dragged himself to his feet and rounded out of the alleyway, turning onto a dimly lit street lined with houses. This is not such a bad place to die, he thought to himself. Maybe no one would pilfer his body for the money that did not exist or the jewelry that was absent. Perhaps he’d retain some dignity in his death.

Simon stumbled barely two meters in front of himself before he fell down against the door of a nice house. He could feel the warmth through the door. It was almost sad to die on such a lovely doorstep. Telling by the clickity-clack of footsteps from behind the door, he’d probably disturbed the lady of the house. Somehow, Simon could not find it in himself to care as he slid into what must be death.

But it was not death. Indeed, Simon had lapsed into a comatose state, but he awoke to the sounds of a plate clattering onto a table. The room was warm, and when Simon tried to move his hands, he found himself between a lovely down comforter and an even lovelier mattress. A fire burned brightly in the corner of the room, and he watched as a silhouette of a man moved in front of the flame.

“Am I dead?” Simon asked, his voice hardly above a whisper.

The man laughed, and he sat down beside the bed. His face came into view, and Simon saw the most beautiful person God had ever created. Then the beautiful man brought a cool washcloth down on Simon’s forehead, and Simon then realized how much he was burning up.

“Lord above, no,” the man answered. His touch was gentle across Simon’s aching head, and he placed the towel down a moment later to instead bring a glass of water to Simon’s lips. Simon arched into it, and a pained noise escaped his lips as the water slid down his throat. When was the last time he’d had water? Did brown snow count?

After the glass was drained, Simon began to take in his surroundings. The room looked to be one of a rich man: the walls were lined in beautiful wallpaper, plush rugs were laid down across the wood floor, and the size of the room was larger than the house Simon had grown up in. The man wore a waistcoat with a gold pocket watch, and his hair was swept back neatly from his face, though a piece was falling into his eyes. Could Simon even call him a man? Upon further inspection, he could not be older than his mid-twenties, and even that was a stretch. There were no wrinkles or stress lines, and his eyes held a kind light.

“Are we,” Simon started, his voice cracking on the second word. A second glass of cold water was placed to his lips, and Simon began again. “Are we sure I am not dead?”

The man smiled. “Who are you?” he asked, brushing back matted curls from Simon’s head. Simon internally hoped he did not look too worse for wear. “How did you come to be on the streets?” the man continued.

Simon did not know how to answer that. His name would be a good place to start, though he wouldn’t give his full name. “I am Simon.”

…

The packing for the Surrey manor proved to be more difficult for Simon than he’d originally anticipated. They’d be gone for the second half of December and a little into January, and the capacity of Simon’s suitcase was being tested to the highest degree because of his coats (courtesy of Baz’s…sister?). Baz had not said to pack lightly, but Simon didn’t like the idea of bogging down the carriage with an extra suitcase. Plus, Baz had already sent ahead a few trunks of clothes and other things to the manor earlier in the week.

Speaking of the devil, Simon nearly leapt out of his skin as cool arms surrounded his middle. Of course, there was no need to be frightened. Simon had long since been used to both the temperature of Baz’s skin and Baz’s ability to be deathly silent.

Baz’s chapped lips brushed against the nape of Simon’s neck, and he pressed a chaste kiss there. “Packing?” he asked, as though he did not see the myriad of clothing strewn about the room. The wardrobe was open haphazardly, revealing Simon’s messy side. He never put away his clothes with care like Baz did. They were clothes. Why did they deserve such high care?

Simon placed his arms over Baz’s and leaned into the embrace, closing his eyes and resting his head atop Baz’s shoulder. The fact that Baz was a behemoth had once bothered Simon, but now it made lounging together easier. Simon could always fit his head neatly onto Baz’s shoulder, and Baz’s hands fit perfectly in the dip of Simon’s lower back.

“Unsuccessfully,” Simon replied, sighing through his nose. “If we were not going for so long, I would not require so much clothing.” Baz chuckled behind him, and Simon smiled to the ceiling. He ran his hands idly over Baz’s exposed forearms. Today, Baz had stayed inside the house and, therefore, had not changed into any outerwear or even bothered to keep his long sleeves down to his wrists. Truly, it was a state of undress Simon had never expected of the wine merchant to be capable of. Simon had expected the ‘young’ business tycoon to always be dressed in a matching frock and waistcoat and buttoned up to the nines, but formalities had long since disappeared between them.

“Is there also business to attend to in Surrey?” Simon wondered aloud, pulling himself away from Baz and turning in his embrace. When they were this close, Simon had to tip his head up to look Baz in the eye. Baz nodded, and Simon sighed. Work plagued the both of them.

“Not on Christmas,” Baz reassured, bringing up a hand to tip Simon’s chin up. “Not in the whole week before or after Christmas. I cleared all of it for us.”

Us. The word made Simon swallow thickly. He nodded, walking away from the warmth of Baz’s hold (that he got from Simon’s body heat) and rummaging through the wardrobe. Simon heard Baz sigh, and after a few moments of silence, he assumed Baz had left. However, a whisper only a hair’s width away surprised him.

“Pack what I brought you from France,” Baz whispered, pressing another chaste kiss to that mole on Simon’s neck. Then he was gone.

A furious blush ravaged Simon’s cheeks, and he needed a few moments to steady himself. France. Baz’s purchase in France. That trip alone turned Simon’s internal temperature up a few notches. It seemed like ages ago, but it had really only been two months since France. The French had strange ideas of erotica, and Baz had seemed to be in line with all of them. Pack what I bought you from France. Christ, Simon hadn’t looked at it since France for a reason. It embarrassed him, and the fact that he liked that embarrassment made him even redder.

Simon opened a small (locked) drawer on his side of the wardrobe meant for expensive jewelry and priceless cufflinks and pins, and he pulled out what Baz had bought him in France.

…

The paperwork piled nearly a meter high from the floor. Baz entrusted the various receipts, warehouse reports, and paperwork tracking of the wine to Simon. Officially, Simon was brought into Baz’s household to deal with the paperwork that accumulated at the end of each month. Unofficially, Simon had been brought into the house to die.

Simon admitted to himself that this was a much better outcome. When he’d fallen against the door five months ago, who could have known he’d end up with a well-paying job? So well-paying, in fact, that Simon was able to send lumpsums of money back to his father under the pretense that it was payment for hired slayings. His father was none the wiser as to the actual situation of Simon’s employment.

As Simon crossed some ‘t’s and dotted some ‘i’s, his thoughts ran to Baz. They had been doing that more often as of late, and while Simon had once been able to pin it down on acquainting himself with his employer (friend), he could no longer fall under that umbrella. The thoughts (once just about the upkeep of Baz’s hair and the price of his clothing) now turned to running his hands through that hair and peeling away that expensive clothing until it lay on the floor beneath them.

Simon cleared his throat and refocused on the task ahead. He’d lost track of a sentence concerning a shipment of sherry to a port in Boston. As Simon read about a spilled barrel, a hand on his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts.

Baz’s chuckle reassured Simon, and he looked up from the candlelit paperwork ahead of him. The stack on the floor had to be completed and filed within the week. An entire day of Simon sitting at the desk had already elapsed, and he could guess why Baz had entered this small study that had been given to him.

“Have I missed supper?” Simon asked, looking back at the death certificate of the sherry. Baz’s hand lingered a moment longer before falling away, and Simon missed the cool touch through his thin shirt.

Baz came to lean over him and stare at the document in front of Simon. “No,” he replied, his breath ghosting over the shell of Simon’s ear. Simon’s eyes flicked to the side, and he was met with a Baz deep in thought. “I’ll have to speak to my Boston warehouse manager. Sherry is too expensive to be wasted.” Baz turned to look at Simon, and the close proximity of their lips had Simon’s face heating up. Hopefully the candlelight covered the flush of Simon’s neck and face.

Simon turned away and pulled a separate document out, and responded, “You were compensated with the price of a barrel and a half for the ruined barrel.” He pointed to the line in question where the price was brought up, and Baz hummed noncommittedly in his ear.

Very suddenly Baz was standing behind Simon, and Simon floundered to turn in his chair and face him. Baz was still deep in thought, though Simon couldn’t imagine why. Sherry was not Baz’s largest exports if the receipts were to be believed, and even if it was, why would it give him such a headache? A single barrel in six months was nothing compared to what some other merchants lost in a single day.

“Something on your mind?” Simon asked. Baz’s eyes slowly ghosted over to Simon, and Simon had the distinct feeling of being seen but in a distant sort. Like Baz had recognized a version of Simon that existed before and was instead remembering that Simon.

After a moment of silence, Baz regained composure and smiled. His canines flickered in the light, and Simon fought the urge to cover his neck. Of course, there was no reason for alarm. Growing up with his father, however, left some stones Simon was willing to leave unturned, at least where it concerned Baz.

Who was not a creature of evil.

“We should eat,” Baz suggested, looking towards the door of the study. “It should be about time.” As if on cue, the bell signaling supper rang, and Baz smiled again. “Join me?” he asked, as though Simon could deny.

Simon had picked up on the habits of his employer (friend) in the first few weeks of living together, but they seemed to become stranger as time went on. Baz hardly ate, and when he did, it was only a few bites. Most of his diet (in front of Simon, at least) consisted of wines and cheeses. No substantial food ever made its way into Baz in front of Simon. That was not to say that Baz could not eat sometimes later when Simon was not around, but it made no sense to Simon that Baz would invite him to eat in the dining room only to actually eat later.

Unless…

Simon shook the thought from his head, and it was soon replaced with images of a rather biblical sense.

…

The Surrey manor was alive and bustling when they arrived. The snow had nearly postponed the trip, but it had let up in time for the carriage to safely carry Baz and Simon to the manor. The Surrey manor had more servants than their normal lodgings did, and when Simon had first asked why years ago, Baz had not answered.

Simon partially knew why now. The part he knew was that Baz kept his more expensive wines in the cellars beneath the manor. That answer used to satisfy Simon, but now it caused him to wonder more and more. They had promised honesty once after Baz’s nature had been revealed. The promise had been broken only once, and it had been by Simon, so he didn’t have a right to question Baz’s extra patrolling of this particular property.

The trunks were carried to the room by two men Simon had met briefly last year at the manor, and then Baz was swept away into work. Tonight, a key investor was scheduled to dine with Baz, and while Baz hadn’t directly said it, Simon was to remain scarce throughout the night. At least he’d brought a few packets of paperwork that needed doing.

The room he’d previously occupied here was locked, and a servant instead directed Simon to a room he knew Baz had occupied the last time they were here. The bed, while not as comfortable as the one back in London, welcomed Simon comfortably, and he laid down to rest for a few moments. As it often happened when Simon was left alone with his thoughts, they turned to Baz. The investor coming over tonight both invested in and bought the most wine from Baz. That was the only reason Simon had to be scarce tonight. Usually, Baz showboated him until Simon’s feet grew tired, but with the higherups, a previous street boy who did the paperwork usually set them on edge. How could they trust their money with a boy of no more than twenty-one who only knew basic economics and had not studied traditionally a day in his life?

A soft knock at the door had Simon sitting up, and a servant walked in carrying a tray of supper. Simon then noticed the lighting had changed significantly and realized he had fallen asleep while thinking about wine investors. He thanked the servant and ate in silence, staring around the room. An ornate, golden clock stood in the corner, and Simon laughed quietly. A floor length mirror occupied another corner, and a dark wood wardrobe already filled with their clothing sat against the wall. Overall, it was a plain room in comparison to their normal lodgings, but Simon felt the hints of Baz in the room. The comforter was a deep, wine red, and the bedframe was made of cherry wood. Ornate carvings decorated the tops of the posters of the bed.

The Surrey manor deserved to be a real home, Simon thought. He and Baz used it for maybe a month out of an entire year, and it sat empty for the rest of the time. About every two weeks, Baz would send a few servants to tidy the place, but other than that, these two weeks were the longest anyone lived here. Simon had to wonder if this had once been Baz’s childhood home. It was simply too large and too grand for it to be a getaway or a vacation home. The location was optimal, the plot of land was supreme, and the aura exuded warmth. This had to have been something to Baz. Otherwise, he’d have sold the property long before Simon came into the picture.

A servant came to collect his plates, and Simon was once again left in silence. The bustle of London - people shouting, carts rolling by, factories churning - usually lulled Simon and comforted his always anxious mind. Now, there was only the occasional laugh from downstairs and the chirping of a bird here and there. The silence chilled him to the bone.

Simon set to work on the stack of papers before him, deciding that the scratching of pen on paper would soothe his weary soul. The monotonous chore that was paperwork left Simon feeling purposeful. If Baz trusted him enough with finances, then he would do a damn good job at it. Of course, this was a far cry from what his father would have wanted.

Simon’s mind often turned to his father these days. If Simon remembered the date correctly, his father’s birthday had just passed. They’d never celebrated when Simon lived with him; there was too much training and prepping to be done. At the end of the night, maybe his father would allow Simon to have a sip of port, but that had happened perhaps three times over the years. Celebrations just were not important when there were vampires to hunt and kill. His father had instilled the idea that vampires were virgin defilers into Simon’s mind, and while true for the situation between Baz and himself, Simon had come to realize that most vampires simply wanted to be left alone.

His vampire just so happened to want the opposite of that. A hand at the back of his neck caused Simon to nearly spill his inkpot, and perhaps doing paperwork on the bed was stupid. Baz laughed as Simon carefully closed the inkpot, placed the wet paperwork on the bedside table, did away with the pen, and finally looked up.

Baz’s tense face seemed alight when he looked down at Simon, and Simon smiled as he rose up on his knees. The mattress only added to their already obvious height difference. Simon came to rest at Baz’s shoulders, his knees sinking into the duvet. He did not mind, however, as it was the perfect height for him to place his hands atop Baz’s shoulders and rub. The muscles there seemed knotted with stress, and Simon sighed.

“Are you ever not wound up like a clock?” Simon asked, dragging Baz onto the mattress. As tonight’s outfit included a three-piece suit, the act of stripping Baz took longer than Simon would have liked. Finally, pale skin exposed itself, and Simon kept his shudder at the sight of Baz’s back to himself. They had spoken of it once before: the scars had been from a brutal whipping exactly once in his childhood, but his vampire skin had not healed properly because of what he was whipped with. Now, scars littered the expanse of his broad shoulders, and Simon pressed chaste kisses to each. It was routine now.

“You know how I hate clocks,” Baz replied. Simon laughed and pressed one last kiss to Baz’s back, lingering for only a few extra seconds. Luckily, someone had placed oil in the bedside table, and Simon slowly warmed it between his hands as he sat on Baz’s thighs. At the first press of Simon’s hands into Baz’s lower back, Baz let out a groan loud enough to shake the house.

“How was supper?” Simon asked, working a knot in the lower of Baz’s back until it loosened. This was his absolute favorite (non-sexual) thing to do to Baz. It was another way of being useful, and Simon prided himself on the fact that only he could provide this relief to Baz.

“Long,” Baz replied, groaning again at the pressure of Simon’s palms. “He wanted to withdraw his investment because of that fucking barrel of sherry.” Simon dug the heel of his palm into the middle of Baz’s back, and the crack that sounded through the room caused Baz to let out an orgasmic sound. “Fuck, I love it when you do that.”

Simon’s face flushed, and he coughed as he continued rubbing circles into Baz’s back. The silence did not stretch on uncomfortably, but there was something in the air neither of them were able to address. “So, he wanted to leave because one of my fucking stupid warehouse managers dropped a barrel. I told him about the price for breaking a contract, and he still seemed to want to leave. Thank God for whiskey, because I think that’s what got him to stay.”

As Simon lazily rubbed the excess oil into Baz’s skin, he found himself listening to Baz’s sherry problems and not even being bothered by how boring they were. He logically knew that if someone else was telling him about the trials and tribulations of shipping sherry, he’d fall asleep, and the realization made his stomach lurch. He knew what this was, and Baz knew, too. When would one of them say it, though?

…

They had fought before. Once, Simon had forgotten to do a few pieces of paperwork that nearly cost Baz a key investor, and they had dished it out for a good half-hour before both going out for some time to decompress. Simon apologized, and Baz did, too. Simon had been tired during that round of paperwork; Baz had been stressed all day before finding out about Simon’s mistake.

But this was different. This wasn’t about paperwork or investors or wine. This was about Simon and Baz. This was about feelings, and Simon sucked at feelings. He’d inherited it from his father. Being raised to be a vampire slayer could do that.

This was also, coincidentally, about vampires.

“You lied to me!” Simon shouted, hastily packing his belongings into a trunk. Granted, there were not many things to be gathered. It was more for show than anything else. “I’ve lived with you for nearly two years, and you’ve lied to me the entire time!”

Baz stood in front of the fireplace, jaw clenched and hands balled into fists. He was strangely composed for such an explosive conversation. Simon wanted to throw something at him, punch him, make him respond, make him yell. It wasn’t fair that he was the only person angry. This wasn’t going to be a one-sided argument.

“Do you have anything to say to me?” Simon demanded, finally stopping his movements and just…standing there. His shoulders slumped. There were tears in his eyes.

Baz turned slowly on his heels. Finally, Simon saw his face. It gave away nothing; Baz was always stoic during moments of high tensions. When Simon had nearly died those first few weeks, Baz’s face had remained a blank sheet. When his…sister? ...had died in childbirth and the letter had been delivered, Baz had said nothing and simply locked himself away. Now, though, there was no room to separate the two of them. There was no veil of death that cleaved them apart. There was only three meters of wooden floor and carpet.

Baz closed his eyes, and Simon watched as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. “You lied to me, too, Simon,” Baz finally murmured. The orange light of the fire made him look like a statue on fire. His eyes seemed to be ablaze, though that could be literal given the circumstances of his humanity. “I’ve lived with someone raised to be my murderer for nearly two years. How do you think I feel?”

Honestly, Simon had not thought of it that way. However, the part of his brain that his father had trained screamed at Simon that Baz killed innocents to live and that he was probably more than a few lifetimes older than Simon. It unfortunately cast everything into a clearer light: why Baz did not eat in front of Simon, why he left for days at a time on ‘trips’, why he had so much property and no living family.

“Have you killed people, Baz?” Simon asked. He desperately wanted to leave the house and never turn back. He should have listened to his gut. It had screamed at him for over a year that Baz was not human. Simon should have taken his father’s lessons to heart. He could be dead now. It was only a miracle that Baz had spared him.

“How dare you!” Baz snarled stomping away from the fireplace. Finally, Simon thought. Finally, this anger could be mutual. He stopped just a foot short of Simon, hand pointing directly at Simon’s face. “You don’t know shit, Simon Snow! How dare you say that! How dare you!” Up close, Simon saw more tears gather in Baz’s eyes. “Are you asking yourself why I haven’t killed you yet?”

“Fuck you!” Simon retorted, pushing Baz’s hand out of his face. “You’re a fucking liar, Baz Pitch!” Simon didn’t know why he was crying so suddenly. Well, he did know why. He’d just thought that Baz would be honest with him concerning everything, and this felt like a betrayal of the deepest kind. “You…you lied to me!”

Simon covered his face with his hands, feeling the dampness soak the sleeves of his shirt. Damnit, he thought. Why couldn’t he keep it together for ten minutes?

His hands were pulled away from his face, and before Simon could curse Baz for it, cold lips were pressed against his own. He vaguely understood that this was a kiss. Simon had never kissed anyone before. Training to kill vampires ruined any chance of his social life. Baz’s hands, still holding his wrists, slowly travelled down to Simon’s waist, holding him steady as he pulled back.

Simon was still crying, though no choked noises were escaping his lips anymore. “I don’t understand,” he whispered, because he really didn’t. Simon was not a product of fine breeding. He did not have status or wealth. He was human. He was male. But Baz’s lips on his own had felt realer than anything else in his life prior had ever felt. Simon rested his hands on Baz’s biceps, feeling the warmth leave his fingertips. “I don’t understand,” he repeated, looking up at Baz through clumped lashes and tears.

In response, Baz smiled down at him softly. There was no malice, and while Simon did see canines, he was not afraid. “Do you really believe I would have kept you here if I did not care for you?” Baz asked, running a soothing hand through Simon’s hair. “Even just a little bit?”

Simon burrowed into the space where Baz’s shoulder met his neck and hiccupped, feeling fresh tears spill down his cheek. Baz’s hand stalled in Simon’s hair, and he hastily began to apologize, which made Simon cry heavier.

Hours later, with the candles extinguished and the anger from the day gone, Simon realized Baz had never truly answered any of his questions.

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