#and i have spanish class on mondays.. and for some reason i always think of 'miercoles' but that's wednesday ?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

witchlyboo · 3 years

Text

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Taglist:

@eridanuswave @cjand10 @deluxeplanteater @rorodendra @navs-bhat @coxxxxxpi @leviosatothestars

Thanks for all the love and support, if you have opinions, suggestions, or want to be part of the tag list (Or don’t want to be part anymore) let me know, I appreciate every message.

#ben hardy imagine #michael b jordan fc #tom holland x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #pedro pascal #logan lerman fc #definitely maybe #fluff #angst #timothee chalamet #Tom Holland #Ben Hardy

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 17

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“We should get champagne or something, to celebrate,” Scully says, her eyes roving over the menu.

After three weeks of rehab, Teena Mulder has finally been able to move home, though she’s under the constant care of an in-home nurse. Knowing that she’s back in her own space, no longer the medical setting that made her miserable, is a huge weight off Mulder’s shoulders. This is why they’re out to dinner, celebrating a hopeful return to what feels like normal.

“Only if you’re driving home,” Mulder replies playfully, “you know what bubbly does to me.”

She gives him a flirtatious smirk. “Yes, I do.”

“Dana?” someone calls out, and they look over to see two women. One is tall and slim with light olive-toned skin and brunette shoulder-length hair. The other is significantly shorter, Latina, with thick hips and an ample bustline, her dark hair cascading down her back.

“Monica, hi,” Scully replies warmly to the tall woman. She turns to the shorter one, “you must be Dahlia.”

“Guilty as charged,” the short woman answers jovially with a heavy Spanish accent.

“This is my boyfriend, Fox Mulder,” Scully continues, gesturing to him, “Mulder, this is Monica, I’ve told you about her.”

Mulder nods in understanding. Scully has often mentioned a woman she regularly has coffee and lunch with who works in VICAP.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Mulder says, offering his hand to Monica.

She takes his hand with a firm grip, then gestures to the short woman, “this is my partner, Dahlia.”

Mulder and Scully both greet Dahlia with handshakes.

“Well, we’ll leave you to your meal, it was nice to run into you,” Monica says.

“Would you like to join us? We haven’t even ordered yet,” Scully offers, giving Mulder a quick glance to confirm that this is okay. He nods almost imperceptibly.

“Oh, we don’t want to impose,” Monica answers.

“Not at all,” Mulder jumps in, correctly picking up that Monica is worried about imposing on him, not Scully, “I’d love to finally get to know this mysterious VICAP woman Scully is always talking about.”

Monica smiles and he moves to the chair beside Scully so she and Dahlia can occupy the other two. They order champagne and appetizers, and he finds the two women to be very pleasant company.

“So, you work in VICAP too, then?” he asks Dahlia, and she gives him a confused look.

“No, I work at a little flower shop in Alexandria,” she answers.

“Oh, sorry, I thought Monica said you were partners.”

Scully shoots him an embarrassed glare, but Dahlia laughs.

“You know, I always tell Monica she should just call me her girlfriend, but she insists on ‘partner,’” she says, looking at Monica affectionately. He can’t help but smile, realizing he’d missed the very obvious fact that they are lovers.

“Girlfriend sounds so juvenile to me,” Monica explains, “partner feels a bit more serious, and permanent.”

“It’s okay, mija,” Dahlia continues, “you can call me your partner, hasta el día en que puedas ser mi esposa.”

Monica beams at her, and while he didn’t understand a word of that, it’s plainly clear that they are very much in love.

Appetizers come and go, flutes of champagne are emptied and refilled and a second bottle is ordered. Scully brings up Monica’s education and her experiences working at the New Orleans field office, and she and Mulder carry on a conversation about the change in VooDoo practices over the course of generations while Scully and Dahlia discover that they have similar taste in literature. Dahlia is telling a story about reading a Spanish translation of Jane Eyre as a teenager and how she still, to this day, has a hard time not calling him “Señor Rochester,” when the waiter brings by the check and Mulder snatches it away just as Dahlia was reaching for it.

“My treat,” Mulder says, pulling out his wallet.

Dahlia gives Monica a look, saying “me gusta este chico,” and Mulder chuckles.

“That I understood,” he quips, and they all laugh.

Back at the apartment, they get ready for bed. Scully is standing at the sink brushing her teeth when Mulder slinks up behind her, slipping his hands onto her hips and dipping his head down to kiss her neck.

“Mmm, there’s that champagne,” she says, the words garbled around her toothbrush.

“It’s not that champagne makes me want you, Scully. I always want you. It just makes me a little more bold,” he explains, trailing his fingers down to the hem of her night shirt and lifting it enough to get a look at her panties.

She swats his hand away. “Let me finish brushing my teeth,” she chastises, and he retreats to the bedroom.

She joins him a few minutes later, slipping under the sheets and draping her bare leg over his. He lifts his arm so she can burrow against his torso, her head on his chest. He rubs his hand across her back, eliciting a contented sigh.

“So, what did you think of Monica?” she asks, her fingertips on his ribcage moving in small circles.

“I really like her, I can see why you two hit it off,” he answers.

“She reminds me a little of you, actually,” she says, and he can feel her smile against his skin. “She has some...out there ideas.”

“Am I not talking enough about cryptids at home, Scully? You had to go find a friend to supplement?” he asks playfully, dipping his fingers into her armpit briefly in a threat to tickle her.

She clamps her arms against her sides and giggles. “We don’t talk much about that, but when I first met her she told me about my aura, so I figured you two would have some things in common.”

“That sounds more like Missy’s purview,” he comments, and then they fall silent for a moment.

“I’m actually really glad we ran into her,” Scully begins, running her hand down his abdomen to rest just beneath his belly button. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up without you having some context.”

“Scully, if you’re about to suggest we have a foursome with Monica and Dahlia, I’m going to owe Frohike five hundred bucks,” he interjects.

She scoffs, “in your dreams, Mulder.”

“I think you mean Melvin.”

“Well, sorry Melvin, but that’s not what I was thinking about.” Her thumb hooks just beneath the elastic of his boxers, his happy trail tickling her skin.

“Okay, sorry, what were you thinking about?”

“What if,” she begins, dragging her finger back and forth under the fabric, “Monica was your partner. On the X files.”

He puts his hand over hers to still the movement, pulling away a bit so she’ll look at him.

“What do you mean, Scully?” He feels a rush of adrenaline, though he’s not yet sure if it’s from excitement or fear.

“I mean, she’s open to...unexplainable phenomena. The two of you get along quite well, and she wouldn't try to debunk your work or scoff at your theories. You said they might let you reopen them if you had a partner you could work with, and I think Monica might be that person.”

He considers this for a moment. “Who’s to say she’d even want to, she’s assigned to VICAP-”

“She hates VICAP,” Scully interjects, “it’s a bunch of macho men trying to one-up each other. I know she’d be happy to be reassigned, and to work out of the Hoover building. She and Dahlia live in Palisades; her commute sucks.”

His mind is reeling, but he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. “I don’t even know where we’d start, Scully. It seems so unlikely.”

“Just ask for a meeting with AD Skinner. If you think it would help for Monica to be a part of that meeting, I know she’d be happy to attend. I’ve told her a bit about The X files and I wouldn’t even bring this up with you unless I was sure she’d be interested. I can talk to her about it on Monday, if you want to give it a shot.”

He looks up at the ceiling, eyebrows stitched in thought. Hope pricks at the corners of his mind, but he knows well enough not to let it take root; he’s been disappointed too many times before. He looks over at Scully, her expression holding all the hope that he won’t allow himself to feel.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks gently.

“Because I want you to be happy,” she says earnestly, pulling her hand from beneath his and bringing it to his cheek, “from the moment I met you, I saw how you light up when you talk about The X Files. If there’s a chance you can investigate them again, I want to pursue it.”

He sighs, a tender smile tugging at his lips. He turns on his side, pushing his palms under her ass and pulling her on top of him as she giggles.

“Okay, talk to Monica,” he says, sliding his hands under her sleep shirt and up her bare back, “I’ll email Skinner on Monday.”

She smiles at him, self-satisfied and victorious.

“Now, about that champagne,” he says, pulling her down for a kiss.

———

She nervously checks her email every two minutes, aggressively clicking the send/receive button. Monica and Mulder were meeting with AD Skinner at 11:00am and it’s now almost 1:00pm and she hasn’t heard anything. That could either be a very good sign, or a very bad one. She has class in ten minutes and needs to head over to the lecture hall to prepare. She refreshes it one more time, and an email pops up.

From: [email protected]

Sent: September 18, 1997 12:51pm

To: [email protected]

Subject: Maybe good news?

He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say yes, either. He asked us about 800 questions and then said he had to run it by the section chief. My impression is that he wants to make it work, but obviously it’s not totally within his control.

Fingers crossed. Hopefully we’ll know by Friday.

She heaves a big sigh, a cautious smile playing on her lips. She shoots him a quick response and then makes her way to class, praying all the way that the answer will be yes.

———

She’d taken that Friday off, for no reason in particular. Ever since Mulder had effectively moved in with her, she liked to take random weekdays off here and there just to have some time to herself. She’d spent the afternoon reading, re-arranging her spice cupboard, and making space for Mulder to have half her dresser instead of just one drawer. She’s sitting on the floor of the bedroom, surrounded by neatly folded stacks of T-shirts and pajama pants, when she hears the front door open. She checks her watch; it’s only 3:00 pm, too early for Mulder to be home.

“Hello?” she calls out nervously.

The bedroom door swings open and Mulder is there, his chest heaving and a dopey smile on his face.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, “what are you doing home?”

“It was approved,” he says breathlessly, apparently having run from wherever he parked the car.

“What was approved?” she asks, standing.

“The X Files, Scully. They’re reopened, effective Monday, with me and Reyes as the assigned agents,” he says, his smile broadening even further.

Her mouth drops open in disbelief, a surprised smile forming on her lips. She had held out hope, but she was also very aware that the chances were slim. He crosses the room, scooping her up in his arms, her legs wrapping around his hips.

“It never would have happened if it wasn’t for you,” he says, adoration in his eyes.

She kisses him, and he turns to lay her on the bed, shedding his suit jacket and tossing it on the floor. Moving quickly, desperately, he tugs at the waistband of her pants, stripping them off along with her panties, and pushes her shirt up to expose her breasts. He begins kissing her neck, down to her chest and belly, pausing intermittently to speak words of affirmation and gratitude until he reaches the apex of her thighs and is quiet.

He laps at her tenderly, humming and sighing as her body catches up and she feels the flush of desire form in her belly. She pushes her fingers into his hair, scraping gently at his scalp in encouragement as he flicks his tongue against her opening and she bucks her hips in response. His thumb swipes gently over her clit as he pushes his tongue inside her, licking at her increasingly slick walls and making her whimper. After a few minutes, he switches to his fingers inside her and his tongue at her clit. Swirling and sucking until she commands him not to stop, he holds steady as she falls apart against his lips, flexing his fingers deep inside to draw it out. Finally she taps on his head, and he crawls back up to plant soft kisses along her jaw.

“Consider us even,” she breathes out, eyes still closed in bliss.

“I think I might like to continue making it up to you,” he says with a nip to her earlobe, and she laughs.

“Okay, if you insist.”

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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im-just-a-random-fandom-girl · 2 years

Text

having a really hard time rn and just need to rant so i’m posting below the cut

having my worst couple weeks in a good 6 months or so. my anxiety is off the charts, and when my anxiety is bad, so is my depression. i’ve gotten into at least 1 argument per day with my mom, and a couple days ago got into 4. i feel like she’s suffocating me. i love her, but she’s always been overly protective and has strong opinions. college has given me the opportunity to dress how i want and do what’s best for me with my schedule without worrying that she’ll judge me or get angry with me for whatever reason. i’ve cried myself to sleep more nights than not. i’ve only been home a week and a half.

i also just feel very alone and not cared about right now. i’ve barely seen my sisters since getting home, and i was so excited to see them. they still have school, but i hardly spend time with them after they get home or on the weekends. with my youngest, it makes sense. she has final projects and tests right now, so she’s been busy with work. but any down time she has is spent with friends instead. like today, she obviously wasn’t going to do homework on a friday when she has a long weekend. but she invited her friend over to watch stranger things instead. i love stranger things and would have loved to watch it with her, but she chose her friend that she sees every day over me, her sister that she hasn’t seen in months. my middle sister still has to go to school, but she’s done with classes because she’s a senior. she has no homework, and still, i barely see her. she’s either in her room doing god knows what, or hanging out with people from school. mind you, this makes no goddamn sense because she hates her grade. she’s jumped around more friend groups than i can count, and can’t wait to go to college. it doesn’t make sense. i have friends from home, but not everyone is home this summer. everyone who is works, and the distance makes it even more difficult to see anyone. i went to a private school 30 mins away, so my friends live all over the place. i don’t know anyone from my home town really

basically, with my high anxiety and depression, i can’t function well enough to motivate myself to do anything that might help alleviate some stress, like drawing or reading or music. so i sit around, and try not to get into arguments with my mom, which just means doing a shit ton of work around the house. washing dishes, doing laundry, more dishes, walk the dog, make us all lunch, more dishes, talk to my grandma (who berates me about “not speaking spanish well” even though my spanish is very good, despite some mistakes, and claims that my youngest sister speaks better spanish than me even though her spanish is crap, AND says that my cousin can speak and understand spanish even though he doesn’t understand A SINGLE WORD i kid you not), go to the grocery store, pick up my sisters, help make dinner, walk the dog, do more dishes, and then spend the rest of the night alone.

to top it all off, i’m turning 20 on monday and i don’t think we are doing anything to celebrate. a lot of attention has been on my middle sister, and rightly so! she’s graduating high school on saturday, her prom is on thursday, she went to another prom yesterday, today she did the senior 6 flags trip, etc etc. but it also hurts. my senior year of high school was 2020. i didn’t get any of this stuff. i left from spring break and that was the last time i saw my grade. we had a graduation, but it was social distanced, and not everyone could be there. only my parents were allowed to come. i missed all of the senior year traditions that i was so so so looking forward to. i’m not jealous or angry, i just feel a little sad and some longing for what was lost. i’m just feeling very vulnerable and no one seems to notice or care. and the sting is worse because, like i said, it’s my birthday on monday and hardly anyone has given it a single thought.

idk. i feel stupid and lost and alone and i don’t know what to do.

#sara stupidity #long post #just ranting sorry

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thelittleboyfromloveactually · 3 years

Text

Record Store (pt. 1)

Thomas Brodie sangster x reader

Prompt: Royal records is one of the best in the country, it’s also your favorite. On your weekly trip there you meet a friendly face. And later on you find you have a lot more in common than just your taste in music.

Warnings: some cussing (honestly it’s gonna be in every fic) fluff

Word count: 1640

Requests are still open yall!

You woke up early, the sun shinning through your sheer curtains. Your white bed sheets tangled in your legs. You reached over to your bed side table to grab your phone. 7:24. You dragged yourself out of your warm bed and into the shower. Today was Sunday, your day off. You were currently studying at Cambridge college med school. You had classes everyday except Saturday and Sunday. Saturday you normally spent at work and studying. Every Sunday you would wake up early, and then walk over to one of your favorite places in London, Royal Records. You had a great passion for music, you had an angel like voice and had learned to play piano from a young age. As you grew your taste in music got better and bigger. Royal records was your favorite record store around, it was small but you knew how to find hidden gems.

After you got out of your shower your blow dryed your hair, showing off your gorgeous layers. You did your make up and threw on a pair of black leather pants, a black shirt, your leather jacket, your black boots and some gold jewelry. You grabbed your bag and left your dorm room, quietly so as not to wake up your room mate. You walked down the hall and to the elevator. You pressed the main floor and felt it beggin going down. The doors opened and you stepped out, checking the time on the wall. 8:15. It was about a fifteen minute walk to the coffee shop and only five minutes from there to the store, you would be there just in time for opening. After grabbing your coffee you started on your short journey to your favorite record store. Getting there at exactly 9:00. Once you arrived you saw Felix, he was a good friend of yours who also happened to work here. You had met him in your first year of college, he was in your French class and was struggling, you offered to help. You were fluent and French, Italian and Spanish. Your mom was part French so you grew up being exposed to it.

“Bonjour Felix!” You said as you skipped up to him just as he was unlocking the door

“Hey Y/N! How are you ?” He said smiling at you

“Fine thanks, and yourself?” You asked, smiling once he finally opened the door escorting you inside

“Pretty good” he went behind the counter and opened a new box of records that they had ordered

“Ooo are those the new ones?” Personally you were a fan of older ish music, but you always kept an opened mind.

“That they are” he said looking up at you, you joined him on the other side of the counter and began to look through them. “Tell you what, you get a fee record if you help me organize these” he said

Your face lit up “deal!” You said already grabbing some carefully and going to put them into their sections.

After about 25 minutes you had finished, you were pretty fast. The bell rang as someone walked into the store, Felix greeted them and so did you. A few more people came in and you began your search, looking in every box there was. Then you found it. AC/DCs back in black album, for some reason this was hard to find, you reached for it. But when your hand was on it, so was someone else’s. You looked up, your face blushing a little for your fingers had touched each other’s.

“Oh I’m sorry” said the boy, he looks so familiar, he was tall and thin, blonde hair, your couldn’t put your finger on it.

“It’s fine, really.” You said smiling at him “you can have it”

“No no! You were here first” he said

“No really, my friend works here, I will know the second another one comes in” you said handing him the album

“A-are you sure?” He asked

“Yup” you said smiling, you had to admit, this boy was cute

You walked with him over to the desk

“So you like AC/DC?” He asked looking at you

“I would hope everyone does” you said

He laughed “there are quiet bloody amazing, what’s your favorite album?” He asked

You blushed “that one” you said pointing at the vinyl in his hand

“Oh no, well, take it!” He said, he tried to put it in your hands but you put them behind your back.

“No, like I said I can find another one” you said smiling politely at him

“They are hard to find though” he said hesitantly

“I’m good at finding things”

He smiled and nodded his head, “I’m Thomas” he said reaching his hand out for you to shake it

You put your hand in his “Y/N”

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N” he said smiling an adorable smile at you

“The pleasure is all mine” you said blushing

He bought the album and you said goodbye

“It was nice meeting you Y/N” he said smiling

“You too thomas” you smiled back

He walked away, looking back at you and smiling to himself.

The next day you woke up at 9:00, got ready and headed to your first class. You only had one class on Monday but it was a long one. 2 hours and 15 mins of psychology. You wanted to be an OB/GYN but you had an interest in the mind too. It’s also nice to be able to understand people. Throughout the entire class though all you could think about was that boy you had met. Thomas. The familiarness was bothering you, why did he seem so familiar? He was also cute and had a good taste in music.

After class you went to your dorm and got ready for work, you grabbed some lunch on your way and arrived 5 mins before your 12:00 shift started. You had worked at this coffee shop for 4 years now. It was also one of your favorite places. You lived the smell of pastries and coffee. You loved the locals that you had become friends with, you loved the people you worked with, you loved seeing which new book Harriet was reading this week. Harriet was the old lady who came here every morning from 11:00 to 12:15, she would sit and drink her coffee, eat her brunch and read her book. They were always some sweet romance novel, mystery or classic. She owned your other favorite place, the book store. You stepped into the kitchen greeting everyone and grabbing your apron and your notepad.

“Y/N go help table 4 outside!” Your manager called

“Will do lizzy!” You called back

You made your way outside to table four, dodging the other waiters.

“Hi, uh what can I get for you today?” You asked nicely whilst taking out your pen from your pocket

“A black coffee please, love” you recognized the voice immediately, you looked up from your notepad and saw Thomas smiling up at you. He was wearing a coat and sunglasses. He looked as if he was a spy or something.

“Oh my god! Hey!” Your said

“Hi” he said smiling at you

“W-what are you doing here?” You asked

“Just getting my coffee”

“Ah I see, so I don’t need to file a restraining order?” You said jokingly

He laughed “I would hope not” he said “why don’t you sit with me for a second, my coffee can wait” he said gesturing to the seat across from him.

“I would love to but I’m working” you said with an apologetic smile

“Right well, I don’t think they will mind you being gone for one minute” he said

You sighed taking the seat across from him

“You know you look like your in disguise?” You mentioned to him

“Do I now?” He asked leaning toward you

“Yes you do”

“Well I’ll be honest, I need your help, I am investigating a murder and the killer is here in this cafe” he said, he seemed like he really ment it

You laughed, hoping it was a joke

He smiled “I’m joking with you, uh um I am actually an actor”

Of course he was! That’s where you had recognized him from!

“That makes so much sense! I knew you looked familiar, newt right?” You asked

“Yup” he said smiling

“So what is a hot shot actor like you doing here at this cafe?”

“Well if I’m being completely honest, I didn’t come just for the coffee, but rather the company. Yesterday I went back to the record store to see if you were there, you weren’t so I asked your friend, who is very nice by the way, for your number. He said he didn’t know me and he wasn’t going to give your number to a stranger. I convinced him to tell me where you worked, and then I ended up here.” He said smiling

“Well that’s quite a story” you said blushing

“Well I think fait just wants me to get your number so” he dragged off, nudging his phone over to you

You giggled “sure”

You typed your number into his phone and texted yourself

“There you go” you said handing it back to him

“Thanks love, you know sense I have you here, would you like to go to dinner sometime? Or to the movies? Or just ya know, hang out? Maybe?” He asked sweetly

“I think I would” you said, you could talk your face was red

“Uh well great then, shall I text you the details?” He asked

“Yes” you smiled, standing up

“Wait where are you going?” He asked grabbing your hand in his

“To get your coffee” you said winking and walking away

Part two :)

#thomas sangster #Thomas sangster x reader #Thomas Brodie sangster #TBS #royal records #part 1

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anjuschiffer · 4 years

Text

Amira Wayne - Chapter 4

I’m running out of pre-written chapters :’D

Day 4 of @biodad-bruce-month event!

Chapter 4: Habits

P.Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan

Tag: @vixen-uchiha @we-want-mini-mini @ramos123 @bluesimani

MASTERLIST | FIRST | PREV | AO3

School wasn’t the same without Jason around.

The ride to school was silent, the rain falling that morning didn’t help. If anything, it only made Amira feel colder.

Walking the halls without him by his side was torture, Amira missing his banter over the latest book he was reading. Their banter of the pronunciation of a word they were learning in spanish class. How did she ever deal with the solitude and whispers behind her back when she used to be by herself?

Gym class was terrifying, Amira finding herself leaning against the wall as everyone else got into groups to play dodgeball. Some groups avoided her gaze while some looked at her and sneered. That’s right. Amira only played with Jason since he never held back simply because she was a girl. He was the only one who treated her as an equal. He was the only one who was willing to pair with her, no one else never daring to approach them.

All her other classes seemed to go the same way, finding herself alone and in a corner of the room or isolated from the groups formed during science.

Lunch was something she never knew she would dread. It felt like everyone watched her every move. That she was judged with each step she took. No longer being able to bear the torture, Amira ran to the school library, ignoring the looks she got as she ran there.

Slumping into a lone cubicle on the second floor of the library, Amira looked around. There was no one else there, only a librarian at the front desk.

She took out her workbook, deciding to do something with her uneasy mind. And if anything, she could stay here until the school day ended. Father would understand.

She didn’t know how long she had been there, how engrossed she was with her work until she got a tap on the shoulder. Amira quickly grabbed the hand, bending a finger back.

“A..mira, it’s me. Dick.” She quickly let go, averting her gaze from him.

“Dick? How did you find me?” Amira asked, dumping her things into her bag. “And sorry.”

“It’s alright. And the dismissal bell rang half an hour ago. As to how I found you, a classmate of yours saw you run out of the school lunchroom. Said I might find you here.” Dick explained, soothing his finger.

Richard watched as Amira averted her gaze, Richard noticing her digging her nails into her palm. “Amira, you alright?” When she didn’t respond, he sighed. “Sorry, that was stupid of me to ask.”

He didn’t expect Amira to hold his hand, her grasp tight.

“He’s gone forever, isn’t he?” Richard heard her voice crack, watching a tear slip down her face. “He won’t ever come back, right?”

Dick quickly brought her closer to him, letting her cry into his uniform. He stood there quietly, patting her head as she continued to cry. “Don’t leave me alone either Richard! Don’t leave me! Don’t go!”

“I will try, Amira. I will try.”

When Amira asked Dick to never leave her, she didn’t mean this.

During the evening, Dick would help Amira with her homework or if he was in a patrol, he would talk to her through the comms.

During the short weekend, he would take her out to go shopping, of course, with Alfred accompanying them.

Then came the school week.

That Monday morning, Dick patted her head before the two headed to their respective classrooms, some of the girls in her class asking how she knew him. Turns out that despite the clear age gap (and being in different buildings), some of her classmates were captivated by his charm.

What did Jason call it? Charisma? She forgot.

During lunch, Dick barged into the lunchroom and found her, dragging her to his classroom where he would introduce her to his friends, as in, his entire class.

“This is Marinette! She’s a very close friend of mine! Practically my sister from other parents!” Dick said with a grin, ruffling Amira’s hair as he did so.

The girls in his class cooed, buttering Amira in hopes of gaining her brother’s favor.

“Guys, leave the poor girl alone. She needs her space.” A girl sitting away from the group said, Amira looking to see who it was. She didn’t realize she was staring until the girl beckoned her to come closer. “Hi, name’s Barbara Gordon. What’s yours?”

“Marinette.” Amira said. “Marinette Dupain. I’m part of the middle school wing, grade 7.”

“Dupain? Like the bakery-”

“Yes!” Amira said, quickly rambling about the bakery, not noticing how Dick smiled as he watched her lighten up.

Maybe he should bring her over more often.

The next few days were definitely different for Amira.

Out of school, Amira would be joining Dick at the Cave, learning a few basic gymnast skills. Learning flips and other tricks were exhilarating, Amira absorbing the new skills easily.

Sometimes, some of Dick’s friends would join in, Amira quickly taking a liking to Wally out of three of them, no offense to Garth and Vic. Perhaps because Wally was the one who made sure to make her feel included that caused Amira to grow a soft spot for him. Whenever he would come over, Amira always made sure to have cookies ready for him.

She enjoyed the smile that would radiate off him, Amira always looking forward towards his next visit.

At school, Amira would go over to Dick’s classroom to talk with Babs during lunch.

(That was Amira’s name for her, although she didn’t dare to call Barbara by that nickname. They weren’t exactly close friends...yet.)

She adored talking to Babs about the latest pastry or about Babs’ father’s latest case. (Amira found it hilarious that their dads respected each other both in and out of work.)

It’s been a solid month since she began merging into this new routine, Amira practically skipping as she made her way to see Babs. Just as she was about to make her way inside, she was quickly pulled back, Amira now face to face with a kid...her age? But one thing was for certain, she had seen him before...but where? Surely she would remember a kid that carried a portable camera-

Timothy Jackson Drake. The Drakes only son...only child.

The only reason she remembered him was due to the newspaper she found on the dining table her father left behind that morning. Something about his mother was the headline of the paper.

“You’re Marinette, right?” He asked her, Amira wondering what he wanted with her. This was the first time both children ever spoke to each other.

“I am. Do I-”

“Name’s Tim -Tim Drake- from the elementary wing, grade 5. Anyways, I’ve been wanting to ask you something. Where’s Jason?” He asked, Amira feeling her heart drop. “I’ve noticed that-”

Amira knew that the boy kept talking about something, but she didn’t know what exactly.

Jason’s name just kept echoing within her head, Amira’s head replaying the past month in her mind.

How did she forget about Jason? Why did she forget about Jason? How dare she forget him?!

“-Mimi! Mimi, please, listen to me!” Amira registered a voice, a voice she always heard. “Amira, please, talk to me!” It was big brother.

Amira looked at Dick, his eyes wide with panic, Amira registering the tears that dared to slip from him.

Without another word, Amira hugged him, her grasp on his school jacket tightening as her mind slipped back to Jason.

“I didn’t mean to forget him! I didn’t mean to! I swear!” Amira sobbed, hating that she was breaking down at school, hating that everyone saw her at her most vulnerable point. Hating herself for forgetting Jason. “He probably hates me for forgetting about him. He hates me…”

“It’s alright Amira. It’s alright.” She heard Dick whisper to her, watching as the two left the school grounds. “He would never hate you Amira. He loved you too much to ever gate you.” Dick reassured.

That was the last time Amira ever saw Gotham Academy.

Ever since Amira broke down at school, she remained cooped up in her room, not letting anyone enter it, not even Alfred.

Dick had tried to coax her to come out by telling her that Wally had come over to talk to her, but Amira didn’t budge from her room.

Not until Bruce asked her to come to his study to talk.

“Did you want to speak to me, Father?” Amira asked, closing the door behind her.

She knew why she was there. She knew why her father called her to his study.

After all, it wasn’t that easy to create a cover story of why Dick and Amira came home while school was still in session. It was especially hard when the school called Bruce, asking about the whereabouts of the two of them.

“Amira. Take a seat.” Bruce said as he motioned to the open space in front of him. It’s been a while since she had been at her father's study, noticing the new window seats. They weren’t there the last time she stepped foot into his study. Then again, the last time she did was when…

Now that she thought about it, Amira couldn’t help but look at her father.

Despite the dim lightning of the study, Amira could easily see the worn out features on her father. His eyes were shrouded in darkness, circles deeper than ever, the bags under his eyes darker than before.

The corners of his eyes were red and tired, her father’s lips now forever in a frown.

How could she forget? How stupid was she to think that she was the only one suffering when clearly, her father was too? What about Dick then? Was he also-? And Alfred...

Amira shook the thought from her mind, deciding to pile up the cushions into a corner and taking a seat, letting her back lightly touch the pile. It was only then that she noticed her old Batman plushie.

“I thought...I thought this was thrown out.” Amira said, picking up the old thing, the colors faded, Amira running her fingers over the stitched up arm.

“It was, until I asked Alfred if I could keep it.” Bruce said, letting a sigh leave him. “Sometimes, it's hard to let go of the past.” Amira remained silent, letting her head hang. So this is why he called her to his study.

Amira listened as her father drifted to his memories of when he ventured the world. Of how he met her mother. (That was the first time he actually talked about her to Amira. Sure, he would mention her mother’s small quirks, but Father never told her stories about her.) Of how he met Amira...as an infant.

How Bruce kept making mistake after mistake, wanting to give up various times as he found himself lost. How he thought he wasn’t enough to help raise Amira, that he wasn’t fit for the job.

How he found his efforts finally being rewarded in the shape of Amira growing into the girl she was now. For Dick finally being able to flourish despite his parents’ death. How Jason was able to have a better life once Bruce took him in.

“Where did I go wrong?” Bruce asked, looking out the window. “What did I do that caused-“

“You did nothing wrong.” Amira reassured. “You did nothing wrong Dad. If anything, you always did your best to make sure we were fed, clothed...safe. We couldn’t have asked for a better father.”

Amira sat there in silence for what seemed like minutes before Bruce looked at her.

“But clearly, that wasn’t enough.” Bruce said, getting up from his seat. “I’m sending you to Paris.”

#maribat #b!dbwm2020 #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio!dadbrucewaynemonth2020

163 notes · View notes

kayluh1915 · 3 years

Text

Beautiful People

Paring(s): Pedro Pascal/Female Reader

Words: 5,378

Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Medication Discussions, Insecurities, and Panic Attacks.

You and Pedro have been secretly dating for a few months now after a chance meeting. You both agreed that it was time to reveal your relationship to the public and chose to do so by accompanying him at The Oscars, but your anxiety does a great job of making you think that you don't deserve it.

DISCLAIMER!

This story is based on the song Beautiful People by Ed Sheeran & Khalid, but this IS NOT a songfic. It just gave me this vibe of Pedro walking down the red carpet with someone who doesn't quite feel like they belong and he comforts her by saying he doesn't really belong either and proceeds to list why they're better off because of it. I dunno, It just sounded sweet.

As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged.

You can also follow me on Twitter if you'd like. My life is boring, but I might be able to make you laugh if I’m lucky.

Enjoy!

(PS: Pepe is a real person. He was my Spanish teacher my first semester of college... and yes, he really went to Cincinnati every Friday to gamble)

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

The frigid February air was like icicles on your skin, sending a full-blown shiver down your spine as you hurried out of the Science building and towards the dining hall. It was nearly noon and you’ve had only had a banana and a bottle of water this morning, so lunch sounded pretty great right about now… maybe a cup of hot cocoa as well.

The dining hall was about a three-minute walk from the Science building, more than enough time for the cold to seep through the layers of your coat and deep into your bones. The possibility of a cup of cocoa turned into an inevitability, you running for the hot beverage machine as soon as your student ID was swiped.

You sat at your usual spot, hanging your backpack on the back of the chair before taking a greedy sip of the hot drink. The warmth was a godsend, the sugary beverage warming your icy hands with a pleasant hum tumbling from your lips.

“You make noises like that in bed?” Someone asked, snapping you out of your warming daze. It was your roommate and closest friend, Lauren. You snorted at her remark, almost spitting out a sip of your drink.

“I thought you had Spanish class at noon?”

“Nah. It’s Friday, remember?”

“Oh yeah, gambling day.” Like you, Lauren was a music student. It was how you had met nearly four years ago. Like most music students, you both used the extra humanities credits you had earned in high school to bail you out of the required foreign language credit until university. You were doing fairly well so far, but it was because you had a decent teacher. She wasn’t the best, but she was alright.

Lauren’s was just… something else.

On the first day of class, he told his students to call him “Pepe” because he didn’t do the “formal shit.” He also said that there would never be a class on Friday’s because he goes up to Cincinnati to gamble with his buddies. Why he didn’t just put down that his classes were only on Monday and Wednesday were beyond you.

“Yeah. Whatever, though right?” Lauren continued. “I’m not complaining about one less day of class.” You smirked mischievously.

“No, but your Spanish is…” Lauren scoffed, only causing you to laugh harder into your cup.

“Bitch, you shut the fuck up. You can’t speak the damn language either.” You shrugged.

“You’re not wrong, but at least I’m learning more than you are with Pepe.” Lauren groaned.

“Fuck you. Come on, let’s grab some grub.” You stood up and grabbed your backpack, throwing away your empty drink cup to grab something to eat. You settled on your usual favorite and sat back down with Lauren who had somehow already made it halfway through her plate.

“God, slow down.” You teased as you hung your backpack back on the chair.

“I didn’t eat breakfast this morning. Cut a bitch a break.” You shook your head, digging into your own plate, but at a much slower pace. You both sat in comfortable silence, enjoying your meals as the indecent chatter of the surrounding students and meme music playing from the jukebox continued on.

“So,” Lauren said, breaking the silence as she sat down her drink. “What are you doing this weekend?” You froze at her question but played it off the best you could. Any hint of hesitation would send her into a frenzy of questions that you weren’t prepared to answer.

“I’m going in to see Mom. Maybe stop by my Mamaw’s too.” Lauren’s shoulders slumped.

“Damn, that’s too bad. Devon invited us over to his Oscar watch party tomorrow night. Figured you might want to come along since you’re into that sort of thing.”

You swallowed hard at the mention of The Oscars. Just play it cool… don’t. fucking. panic.

“Normally I would, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen Mom. You know how she gets when I don’t come to visit for a while.” Lauren nodded her head in understanding, knowing full well of how your Mom was after living with you for two years.

Little did she know that you had just seen your mother last weekend.

“I understand, boo. I’ll let him know you can’t make it. When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I’m done here. I packed my stuff this morning so I could just go. Trying to beat the traffic as much as possible.” She nodded in understanding.

“Well, I hope you have a good time with your Mom. Say hi to her for me, will you?” You internally sighed a breath in relief. How your big mouth managed to keep him a secret all this time let alone this was beyond you, but you managed to pull it off somehow.

“Yeah, sure.”

After you finished eating, you hugged Lauren goodbye and went back to your dorm long enough to drop off the books you didn’t need and pick up your suitcase. You went through your mental checklist one last time and locked your door behind you as you left.

You unlocked your car and threw your stuff into the backseat, making your way towards the interstate as soon as you left the college.

Home was about a two or three-hour drive down south, but where you were really going was about a 40-minute drive north. You put on some music as you cruise down the interstate, your nervousness slowly increasing the closer you got to your destination.

Your hands shook on the steering wheel, you bounced your left knee furiously, and you were biting your lip… pretty hard. You thought about reaching into your purse for the “take as needed” anxiety medication your psychiatrist prescribed you but decided to hold off on it a little longer. Maybe it’d taper off when you got to the airport.

It didn’t.

You had flown before, but that had been years ago when your micro home town had some kind of festival thing and gave free airplane rides. This commercial airline stuff was something entirely new to you which was already nerve wreaking, but the unexpected bustle of such a smaller airport made it worse.

Weeks before when you first booked the flight to Los Angles, you did as much research as possible to make sure that you knew the “norms” and guidelines of all the airports you were going to since there were no direct flights available. You were as prepared as anyone could be, but you were still extremely nervous and all the foot traffic only made it worse.

You went through security without any qualms and took a seat to wait for your flight to begin boarding. You pulled out your phone and texted your Mom and Lauren before someone walked up to you in your peripheral.

“Excuse, miss?” You looked up from your phone to come face to face with an older gentleman. He looked to be in his early 50’s with salt and peppered hair and a kind smile. He asked you your name and you confirmed with a nod.

“Sorry to disturb you, but your private flight is prepared to depart whenever you’re ready, Miss.”

...Excuse you, what?

“P-Private flight? But I-... I paid for an American Airlines flight.” The man nodded.

“Yes, but Mr. Pascal has sent a private jet to retrieve you. He was fairly insistent to make sure that you boarded.” You sighed heavily. You told him that a two-stop economy flight that you paid for was more than fine, but the thought of you doing anything like a normal person seemed to bother him for some reason.

“Okay. I-I guess I’m ready to go then.” The man smiled.

“Of course, Miss. May I take your bags for you?” You hesitated.

You had never been waited on like this before and you weren’t quite sure how to feel or respond to it. You were perfectly capable of carrying your own stuff and this guy probably wasn’t getting paid enough to carry some lucky college student’s stuff, but was it rude to say no even if you did so in a polite manner? So, you just agreed and handed him over your suitcase and backpack.

You followed him outside and over to a small commercial jet, a woman who looked to be around her mid 30’s standing right by the entrance of the aircraft.

“Welcome aboard, Miss. I’m Kendall Bishop and I’m your captain for today. If you’ll go ahead and take a seat and buckle your seat belt, we’ll depart shortly. I do ask, however, that you remain seated and keep your seat belt fastened until Mr. Clements informs you that it is safe to move about the cabin. Do you have any questions for me before we begin our descent?”

You smiled politely at her and shook your head.

Upon entering the cabin, you were at a complete loss for words. It was easily the fanciest thing you’d ever seen. Leather seats, stocked alcohol shelves, an endless assortment of snacks, a TV, even a fucking bed of all things. The man, Mr. Clements you assumed, gestured towards the seat closest to you. You sat down and buckled your seat belt like you were told to do.

Mr. Clements then reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, gesturing for you to take it.

“Mr. Pascal requested I hand this to you as soon as you board.” You took the envelope out of his hands, looking down at it with a curious gaze. On the back of it had your name scribbled onto it in familiar handwriting. You’d know it anywhere after reading so many letters from him.

“Please enjoy your flight and let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.” You thanked him with another nod, turning the envelope around and tearing it open. The plane prepared to take off as you read.

Mi Abeja,

I know you wanted and paid for a normal flight, but the academy offered to fly you to me privately last second. I was going to ask you if you were okay with it, but you were in class and your phone was off and I had to let them know something before my table read this morning. You work and study so hard and deserve to be pampered so I told them yes. They reimbursed what you paid for your ticket and I’ll give that to you once you get here.

I hope the unexpected change didn’t spike your anxiety too much. I know you’re nervous about this whole thing to begin with and I probably just made it worse. I’m sorry if I did.

I’ll be there to pick you up as soon as you land at LAX.

Love you,

Pedro. <3 <3

Your heart soared at his words, leaning back in your seat and looking out of the nearby window just in time to watch the plane lift up from the runway.

________________________

Four hours later, Mr. Clements informed you that you would be landing shortly. Your heart leaped up in your chest as you put your phone back into your backpack and fastened your seat belt.

It had been a few weeks since you’d last seen him and you were nearly vibrating with excitement by the time the wheels touched down on the runway. Mr. Clements offered to take your things again. You still weren’t sure if it was rude to turn him down or not and you didn’t want to ask and risk looking like a moron, so you agreed and handed over your backpack.

The captain opened up the door and exchanged pleasantries with you as you stepped off the plane, but you barely heard her over the pounding of your own heart. As soon as you looked up from the ramp, you saw him. He was there just like he promised he’d be, standing by his car and wearing his favorite pair of sunglasses all while smiling at you with that blinding smile.

Your sneakers barely touched the tarmac before you were sprinting for him. He held out his arms for you and made a small sound when you collided with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and laying your head on his chest. One of his hands caressed the back of your head, holding you to him tightly as the other one held on to your waist.

“I’ve missed you so much, Abeja.” He muttered against the crown of your head. You let go of him long enough to reach up and kiss him, tangling your hand into his dark curls. “Did you have a good flight?” He asked after you pulled away.

“I did. I was a little nervous at first, but I’m okay now.” Pedro gave you a saddened look.

“I’m sorry. I know it was unexpected and didn’t mean to hike you up, I just figured yo-” You put your hand over his mouth.

“It wasn’t your fault, Pedro. I’m just… not used to this… any of it.” He placed a gentle kiss to your fingers, taking your wrist into his hand and gently taking it off of his mouth.

“Please tell me you at least ate something.“ You nodded.

“I ate with Lauren before I left for the airport. She actually invited me to an Oscar watch party this guy named Devon is hosting. I played it cool just like we practiced, but it took everything in me not to freak out.” Pedro giggled, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Isn’t she in for a surprise?” You barely smiled, nodding gently. You’ve been trying not to think about it, but the idea of you being on display to the entire world made your stomach churn and your knees weak. You were just a first-generation college student from the middle of nowhere, yet here you are in the arms of Pedro Pascal about to walk down the runway of the most prestigious award show in less than 24 hours.

“... Yeah.” You eventually answered. Pedro noticed the change in your demeanor and frowned, placing a kiss on the wrist he was still holding and caressing it gently with his thumb.

“We don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to, you know? We can always go with plan B.” You shook your head vigorously.

“No, no, no! I-I want people to know… I just… all so new.” Pedro smiled at you sympathetically, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

“Just promise you’ll let me know if it ever becomes too much for you. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” You look up into his mocha gaze, the butterflies in your stomach making you forget about your self-doubt if only for a few seconds.

“I promise.”

________________________

That evening you were curled up with Pedro in the hotel bed, empty take-out containers discarded onto the nearby nightstand as you watched The Shining together. He was fully engrossed in the movie, his fingers idly playing with your hair. You had tried to focus on the movie. You really did, but you’ve seen the damn thing a million times. Laughing at memes on Reddit sounded more appealing so that’s what you were doing.

“You know, I really miss you when you’re not with me.” Pedro said after a while. You looked up from your phone and up at his face.

“I miss you too. Music school sucks and I can’t cuddle Lauren… well, I can but it would be awkward.” Pedro laughed, caressing your cheek with his knuckle.

“Tomorrow, our stylists will be here around noon. I know you’re going to be nervous all day and will probably avoid eating, so I’m going to make sure you get up with me and eat a proper breakfast.” You groaned quietly.

“You won’t let me sleep in? Even on a Saturday?” You fake-pouted. Pedro tapped your nose gently with his finger.

“Not when tomorrow is such an important day. I don’t want you nervous on an empty stomach.” You both went back to what you were doing for a minute.

“You did bring your medication, didn’t you?” You hesitated before nodding.

“Yes.”

“Good. You’ll have something in case it gets too intense. Getting you to take it will be another story, though.” You didn’t say anything, favoring instead to raise up from your reclined position to swing your leg over his waist to straddle him. His hands instantly went to your hips, gently caressing them with his large hands.

“You’re so beautiful, Abeja.” He said after a while of looking you over and running his hands over your body. You smiled at him and leaned down to give him a kiss. It was pretty standard as far as kisses go, but when you pulled away you were both looking at one another with a fiery intent and slowly went back in for another. This one searing and far more passionate.

Pedro groaned deep in his throat as your tongues collide, the kiss deepening far beyond your original intent.

You weren’t complaining.

________________________

Pedro’s alarm going off scared the living hell out of you. You had been awake since 4 am, trying your best to go back to sleep, but it just never happened. When you finally gave up around 6:30, you grabbed your backpack and sat at the desk the hotel provided and did your weekend homework. You hadn’t realized that you were that engrossed in it until his alarm buzzed you out of it.

He groaned quietly and reached over to silence it, rolling back over and reaching out to the other side of the bed looking for you. When he noticed that you were gone, he raised up from the sheets and looked around the room. His hair was an absolute nightmare, sticking up in various directions as he stretched out his back and yawned loudly.

“Thought you wanted to sleep in.” He teased after he found you at the desk.

“You said you were going to wake me up early. Figured I might get some work done.” Concern then donned on his brow.

“Honey, how long have you been up?”

“Not long,” you lie. “I wanted to get some work done so I just got up at my usual time.” Pedro got out of bed and padded over to you, rubbing your shoulders and placing a kiss atop your head.

“You work too hard. You should take a break while you can.” You lolled your head back, Pedro’s hands rubbing your shoulders feeling absolutely amazing.

“I’ll do whatever you say as long as you keep doing that.” He laughed, kissing your cheek and heading to the bathroom.

________________________

You didn’t want to question the professional, you really didn’t. But after the third layer of concealer, you just had to.

“That’s a lot of concealer.” The makeup artist laughed.

“I know, I’m sorry. Use some cream for those bags next time and I promise you won’t need as much.”

You didn’t speak after that, allowing the hair and makeup artist to finish you up while they gossiped back and forth with each other. They made other side comments like that to you here and there. They weren’t necessarily rude so you couldn’t really say anything, but they did little for your already rock-bottom self-esteem.

The artist put a dark shade of lipstick on your lips, making a triumphant noise when she finished.

“Didn’t have the best canvas, but you look fabulous sweetheart! Smile with your mouth closed and you’ll be a knockout!” The makeup artist and hairstylist gathered up their things, leaving you sitting there in your robe staring at the floor and hoping they leave fast.

When they finally left, you got up from the bed and walked over to the full-bodied mirror. You showed your teeth and started looking over them. You never thought they looked too bad. Sure, they were crooked and had some spacing, but they were okay. Braces were expensive and playing a brass instrument with braces is a death sentence for lips.

What if you were wrong about them looking okay all this time? Maybe you should have taken out that loan and a semester off to fix your teeth…

Your stylist came in shortly after. He was quieter than the others had been and much nicer which you were thankful for as you changed into the white dress they had picked for you. When you came out, the stylist smiled and hooped.

“You look gorgeous!” You finished off your look with matching jewelry and a clutch purse, sitting down on the bed to put on your heels.

“It took me forever to find a pair of acceptable wedges for you, sweetheart. I don’t know why you didn’t just tough it out for one night, but hey. I get it. Country girls don’t like heels and that’s okay! It worked out.”

Again, not necessarily rude… but damn.

________________________

You were waiting in the lobby for Pedro to come out, bouncing your leg nervously and trying to remember not to touch your eyes or bite your lip because of the makeup. When you saw him step off the elevator, your breath caught in your throat. His hair was slicked back and his facial hair neatly trimmed, the black velvet suit hugging his broad shoulders perfectly.

“Wow…” He muttered, looking you up and down. “You look absolutely stunning, Abeja.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You replied, playing with his bow tie.

“Hey, hey, no. Don’t touch it. I don’t know how to tie it back if it comes loose.” You laughed and shook your head.

“Fine… I’ll unwrap my present later.” Pedro’s own breath caught as you winked up at him. He cleared his throat and composed himself, offering you his arm.

“Ready?” You swallowed and nodded, taking his arm for him to escort you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

________________________

You were in line for the red carpet, the flashing cameras of the paparazzi already blinding and you were still pretty far back. Your stomach churned, a wave of nausea rising up but nothing happening. Pedro took your shaking hand into his and squeezed it gently.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing how tense you were and only grew worse the closer you got.

“... fine.”

“Plan B’s still an option if you need it, Abeja. You have your medicine you can take too.” You shook your head, looking back at him to flash him a smile.

“I’m good.” You could tell that he didn’t buy your bullshit. Not even for a moment. He didn’t say anything, though, opting only to lift your hand and press a kiss to the back of it.

“I’ll be right there beside you the entire time, honey. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or need to leave, you let me know.” You nodded at him, accepting a kiss from him before looking back out the window of the limo.

Your turn came up way sooner than you would have liked, the greeter opening up the limo door as soon as the car stopped and allowing Pedro to step out into the public eye. The photographers went nuts, the flashing lights and screams from fans intimidating you more than you thought they would.

What the fuck were you thinking? You’re just some tired ass music student. You don’t belong here with all these people.

You almost chickened out and stayed in the car but when Pedro turned towards you and offered his hand you took it anyway even though your mind was screaming for you not to. Just the gentle touch of his calloused hand on yours grounded you enough to carefully step out of the limo, making sure that nothing happens to your dress.

You could hear the sounds of the crowd die down for a moment as they all started muttering to themselves. Your hand was shaking in Pedro’s larger one, the photographers gasping as soon as they saw your face. They started taking pictures faster than they ever had. The bombardment of flashing lights blinded you for a moment, but you adjusted to them quickly.

Pedro let go of your hand and put it on your back, gently leading you where you’re supposed to go.

“Okay?” He asked as he wrapped his arm around you and brought you close. You nodded. You weren’t comfortable in the slightest, but it wasn’t the worst thing ever. While both of you posed for pictures, people from the group of photographers said a lot of things to both of you. Some were kind, others were funny and got a good laugh out of you. There were also a few who were very rude, but they had been pushed aside by the others.

Overall, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you were expecting… but you were glad it was over.

________________________

You were standing aside checking your phone while Pedro did an interview with some of the press. He had offered you to be with him, but the red carpet had been more than enough fame for you. Your phone was on “do not disturb” mode, but you could still see all the notifications coming in. Your Mom, Dad, Lauren, and other friends bombarding you with messages basically asking what the fuck. You didn’t have the time to reply, so you didn’t open any of them.

Once Pedro was done with his interviews, he escorted you into the main hall where he introduced you to some of his friends and colleagues along the way. You considered it an honor to meet the people most only ever dreamed of, but you knew you didn’t deserve it. Someone else should be here, not you.

When you found your seats, Pedro offered you his hand. You took it and allowed him to seat you before he took his next to you and wrapped his arm around the back of the seat. The show started shortly after.

________________________

“And the Oscar goes to…” You held onto Pedro’s hand tightly as they opened up the envelope, your shaking hands encased in his. He had told you when he had been nominated that he didn’t expect to win it, but you could tell he had some hope as he tensely watched them read the card.

“Pedro Pascal.” You jumped up with Pedro, hugging him tightly as the audience broke out in cheers.

“You deserve it!” You told him, breaking away to give him a quick kiss. You watched him run up stage and accept the golden statue, walking up to the microphone with a few chuckles as he looked over the award.

“Wow, this is uhhh… this is incredible. Truly amazing.” He started. “I’d like to thank the Academy for this honor, my Mom and Dad who worked hard to raise me right and who supported me. My brother and two sisters for being there for me, mi Abeja for loving me unconditionally, and just… so many others. There are so many people in my life who have helped me get to this milestone and if I were to thank all of you, we’d be here all night. I love you all so very much and this truly… a dream come true. Thank you.

The crowd stands up and cheers loudly. You wanted to, but you were too busy trying to make sure your makeup doesn’t run down your face with a tissue from your clutch. Eventually, you give up trying and decide to go to the bathroom just to make sure everything still looks fine.

Your makeup looked just as flawless as it had before. You wish you would have known that the artist had used waterproof makeup so you could’ve properly celebrated Pedro’s achievement, but oh well. While you were there, you decided to use the bathroom. You didn’t have to go that bad, but might as well take care of it while you’re here.

While you were relieving yourself, you heard two other women come in.

“-ld for her. He needs to settle down with someone like us and around his age. Not some college student.” You froze solid when they realized that they were talking about you.

“I know. She isn’t even that pretty. Did you see her teeth? Do they not have braces where she comes from?”

“For real. Her body’s not that great either. Looks like she comes straight from the shack or something.”

“Wonder if that’s where he found her?” They both giggle.

“Either way, she doesn’t belong here.” You knew they were right, but you just couldn’t bare to listen anymore, pulling your underwear back up and fixing your dress after you flush the toilet.

You then run out of the bathroom, not even looking to see who the women were. It didn’t matter, though. They were right. You should have never came here and you couldn’t stay any longer.

You walked back to your seat and gently tugged on Pedro’s sleeve.

“C-Can we go… Please?” You ask, your voice shaking just as much as your hands. Pedro got up instantly when he saw the look on your face, grabbing his trophy, coat and your clutch. He didn’t ask questions as he placed his hand to the small of your back and began to escort you out of the theater.

By the time you got back into the limo you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The voices around you sounding like water as your vision became black around the edges. Oh God, is this what feels lie to die? You couldn’t die. Not now! You had so much to do, so much t-

Something extremely cold suddenly touched your face, the blackness around your vision fading slightly as you looked up to whoever had put something so damn cold on you.

You were instantly met with the warm eyes of your boyfriend, concern laced on his brow as he gently dabbed a cold washcloth over your face. You could see his mouth moving, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying over the pounding of your heart, but it eventually calmed down enough to where you could begin to hear him.

“There we go, bee… that’s it sweetheart. Nice and easy.” Your breathing slowly calmed down, Pedro cradling you in his arms as your panic attack faded.

“I should have never come here…” You muttered. “I don’t belong here. All these fancy dresses, the flashing cameras, nice cars… I don’t deserve any of this.” Pedro placed a kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t say things like that, Abeja. You deserve this just as much as anyone. And as far as not belonging, trust me when I say I don’t either. And, frankly, I’m fine with that. All of these designer clothes, the mindless gossip, the broken homes, being surrounded by so many but still alone? That’s not really a life worth living. The world of Beautiful People is a lonely life, one that I would rather not live.”

You wasn’t sure what to say, so you just didn’t say anything, curling up as close as you could to him.

He made you take a dose of your anxiety medication when you got back to the hotel, taking it with a swig of water before laying down and curling up close to him. You laid your head on his shoulder, the sounds of his breathing and the gentle feeling of his hand caressing your own shoulder lulling you.

Right before you doze off, you heard him say:

“No matter what any of them has said, you’re perfect the way you are and deserve everything.”

________________________

You wake up the next morning still wrapped up in his arms. You lay there for a while just talking and enjoying one another’s company before he finally got up to use the bathroom.

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, turning off “do not disturb” mode for the first time since yesterday afternoon.

Your phone was overloaded. Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, everywhere was flooded. You didn’t even know where to begin.

Eventually, you just give up trying to put a dent into anything and returned Lauren’s list of missed calls. She answered on the second ring.

“You tell me every little detail, you sneaky bitch. And I mean everything!”

#kayla's ramblings #pedro pascal #reader insert #my fanfiction #beautiful people

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spicykoreantatertots · 4 years

Text

Peach (Lobotomy) - Part One

Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Rating: G

Genres: SFW, Soulmate AU, College AU, F2L, Angst, Fluff

Summary: In a world where there is no limit to the number of possible soulmate connections, you've become obsessed with figuring out what yours will be. While walking to class one day, you find a ring on the ground. A ring that will finally lead you to your soulmate.

Warnings: this is only part one! this is slightly angsty, but there is fluff.

A/N: Proud to be part of the Luv Library Collab! This is the first part of my first soulmate fic. Part two will be coming before the end of the month. I may also do a NSFW one shot later this year. I’m excited to continue working on my soulmate series (one for each member). They are all based on songs by Waterparks, check out Peach (Lobotomy). Big shout out to @megahwn and @joonkookiemonster for beta reading, @namluve for this beautiful banner, and to @ho-baebae and @lovely-literati for always being supportive. Love y’all! 💜

~~~~~~~

You've seen it happen a million times before. When someone meets their soulmate for the first time, it’s like watching magic happen. It's just a moment, a spark, and then that person's entire life changes.

There are countless types of soulmate connections out there. From color blindness and red threads to timers and birthmarks. Some people can write to their soulmate and the words will appear on their skin, no matter how far away they are. Some people can hear the thoughts of their soulmate or taste what they're tasting. It's exciting, waiting to meet that person who is everything you need. The person made just for you.

But it's terrifying for those who don't have an obvious connection to their soulmate. It's terrifying for people like you. You weren't born with a special mark, you weren't born with colorblindness or someone else's thoughts in your head. There's no obvious way for you to connect with and find your soulmate, and it often keeps you up at night worrying.

Being the optimistic person and hopeless romantic that you are, you've done your best to stay positive. You know that there is someone out there, there's someone for everyone. So you've spent the first 21 years of your life keeping your eyes wide open. Waiting for the sign, the connection.

When you were in high school, you were sure that your connection must be eye contact. You walked around constantly looking people in the eyes, probably looking like a psychopath

The summer before college, you spent the summer abroad in Spain. Part of you hoped you would meet some rugged Spaniard, but the other part of you knew that your Spanish was mediocre at best.

Freshman year of college you had a persistent craving for pickles and you were sure that had something to do with finding your soulmate. But then you met Hoseok and he helped you figure out that you were just dehydrated and you needed electrolytes.

You actually met Hoseok in line at the dining hall. Your request for an entire bowl of pickles on the side disgusted him. He followed you to a table, confronting you about your strange eating habits.

“An entire bowl of pickles? That’s disgusting.” Hoseok joked.

“Well I’ve been craving them non-stop. Hopefully this is my soulmate connection.” You replied as you sat at the last open table, trying to avoid touching the various sticky spots on the table.

“You hope? As you don’t know what your soulmate connection is?” Hoseok questioned, mouth full of french fries.

“No, not for sure. I don’t have a mark or anything.” And as if he could sense your dejectedness, he cheerily followed up by telling you that he doesn’t have an obvious connection either. Of course your mind immediately goes to the possibility that he is, in fact, your soulmate.

It doesn’t help that he is gorgeous. Dark hair, chiseled jaw, bright smile hidden behind soft lips. Lips that you really really want to kiss.

Unfortunately Hoseok isn’t your soulmate. The two of you spent almost everyday together for the semester and no connection ever presented itself. Eventually the urge to kiss him dissipated (for the most part) and you gained a really great friend. Every time you feel miserably alone, he’s there to comfort you. He's been there for every missed connection, every failed attempt to find your soulmate.

There are still days that you wake up with The Feeling. The feeling that tells you it’s finally the day you’ll find your soulmate. And today just so happens to be one of those days. When you woke up, you didn't feel tired. You were able to get up and out of bed and ready for class in time to stop to get coffee for you and Hoseok.

The Feeling leaves you on edge. You keep your phone in your pocket instead of scrolling through your daily rotation of socials. Making sure to keep a small smile on your lips, you try to make eye contact with as many people as you can.

Surely people think you are a crazy person, but you won't miss an opportunity to meet your soulmate for the first time. Unfortunately, none of the customers in the coffee shop or the Baristas are your soulmates. But that's okay! There is still plenty of time left in the day.

"Today's the day Hobi! I can feel it." Hoseok is leaning up against his car in the parking lot waiting for you as usual. The two of you have the same math class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning.

"Yeah I'm pretty sure you said that about last Wednesday too." Hoseok playfully nudges you as he accepts the coffee you've brought for him.

"Okay yes, but I feel REALLY good about today. Maybe I've just been missing him by a few minutes."

"I wish you weren't so obsessed with this, Y/N." Hoseok pauses, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "You always end up disappointed and I hate seeing you upset."

"Wow thanks for believing in me." You turn away from him and continue down the sidewalk path, rapidly approaching the Mathematics Building.

"It's not that I don't believe in YOU, I just hate watching you obsess over this, can't you just enjoy life and let your soulmate come to you?"

"LET MY SOULMATE COME TO ME? Hoseok didn't you hear about the girl who WAITED for her soulmate to find her and ended up finding him in a COMA? I CAN'T RISK IT!"

"Y/N you can't assume the worst just becau..." And you don't hear the end of whatever Hoseok was going to say. Because in that moment you see something shiny on the ground a few feet in front of you.

You jog ahead of Hoseok, and you see a gold ring abandoned on the sidewalk. You bend to pick it up. Hoseok has now caught up with you. He's trying to get your attention, but all you can focus on in this moment is the ring. You have the same giddy feeling you always do. Butterflies flitting around in your stomach. It’s your soulmate's ring, you're sure of it.

"What is it Y/N?" Hoseok leans over your shoulder to see the ring you're turning over in your fingers. It's a fairly simple gold ring. There is a simple design carved around it and an inscription inside it. Two initials. You can feel your heart swell, your pulse begins to race.

"It's my soulmate's ring Hobi. I knew today was going to be a good day." You can read the skepticism in his frown and knitted brow. He doesn’t refute you though, maybe he can sense the certainty you’re feeling.

“We’re gonna be late for class.” He huffs, continuing down the path at a pace you struggle to keep up with.

~~~~~~~

The lecture on Inverse Trigonometric Functions does not hold your attention very long. All you can really do is turn the ring over in your fingers imagining the man that it belongs to. He’s probably got dark hair, tan skin, glasses. He probably looks so sexy in glasses.

“So I guess you’ll be borrowing my notes later then?” Hoseok whispers and motions toward your blank notebook. “Of course, you’ve got something more important to do than take notes, don’t you?”

“Yeah I’ve got to track down my soulmate.” As soon as you finish the thought, reality begins to sink in. “Hobi?” You whisper back at him, shoulders slumping. “How am I going to find him?”

Hoseok sighs, settles himself back into the seat, and continues taking notes. Absentmindedly, you pick up your pen and begin doodling the initials “JW”. Your pen traces over the letters, darkening them with each stroke.

“We’ll find him.” Hoseok places his hand over yours, stopping the obsessive movements of your pen. When he pulls his hand back you look up at him. He’s looking forward, jaw clenched. And you know that just like every other time, with every other potential soulmate, he’s determined to help you.

~~~~~~~

Hoseok asked you to sleep on it, give yourself some time to process before beginning the process of finding the owner of the ring.

It was a nice idea, sleeping on it. But in practice it proved to be very difficult. After tossing and turning for half an hour you began mentally designing a Found: Gold Ring flyer in your head and planned where to put them up around campus.

Now your mind has wandered elsewhere. You find yourself browsing social media, looking at the University’s page. Scrolling through the followers and stopping at every J and W you find.

You: I'm never going to find him. [4:12am]

You: Do you know how many JWs there are in this city? [4:12am]

You: And what if he's not even on social media? [4:16am]

Hoseok: Everyone is on social media. [4:18am]

You: Oh no did I wake you? [4:18am]

Hoseok: Yes. Please tell me you have not been awake all night. [4:18am]

You: I have not been awake all night. [4:19am]

You: 😬 [4:19am]

Hoseok: I have an idea. [4:20am]

You: 👀 [4:20am]

Hoseok: I have a friend who works as a student assistant in the registrar's office, maybe he can help us. Let's meet at 8 instead of 8:45 [4:23am]

You: okay 🥺 [4:24am]

~~~~~~~

"What do you mean "no," Namjoon?" Hoseok is standing at the front of Namjoon's desk.

"Hoseok I am not breaking FERPA for any reason." The blonde boy leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. Government policy prevents him from sharing student’s personal information, but this is bigger than the government. It’s fate, the Universe, call it what you want, but it’s more important than FERPA.

"Namjoon, I need to find my soulmate, I have to track him down!" You're about to start crying, peering around Hoseok. You had only seen Namjoon once before at a party, he was drunkenly debating the finer details of Platonism with a girl who was clearly only interested in taking him upstairs.

“If I were to give you a list of all the names and phone numbers of students that go to this University, I could be fined thousands of dollars!” He uncrosses his arms and hits his hand on the desk to emphasize his point.

That’s when you notice the timer on his wrist. Counting down to the moment he meets his soulmate.

“Namjoon, look at the timer on your wrist. You know exactly when you are going to meet your soulmate. But I have nothing.” He looks down at his wrist, the timer silently ticks closer to zero. “I have no timer, no mark, no connection except maybe this stupid ring.”

You tug at the ring you placed on a chain around your neck for safe keeping. It shines under the fluorescent lighting. Namjoon looks at the ring then back at your face. You’re sure it’s blotchy and red, but you hope that he understands how important this is.

“Can you help us Joon?” Hoseok asks, pulling a small flash drive from his coat pocket. The only response is a deep sigh, but Namjoon grabs the flash drive and quickly downloads the data.

“If anyone finds out about this, I’m going to say you hacked into my computer.” Namjoon says, stopping short of handing the drive back to Hoseok.

“I owe you one.” Hoseok winks before he grabs the drive out of Namjoon’s hand.

Hoseok heads out into the hallway and you follow closely behind him, turning back to mouth a ‘thank you’ at Namjoon who responds with a curt nod.

~~~~~~~

After a trip to the library and $25 worth of printing, the two of you are holed up in your apartment. Take-out, two bottles of wine, and 250 pages of student names and phone numbers are set out on the coffee table, an R&B album playing on the stereo. Hoseok watches as you flip through the large stack of pages on the coffee table.

“Wait why did you print every name?” Hoseok wonders while he picks at the remains of the food in his container.

“You said it would be easier to have a hard copy.” You huff, dropping the pages on the floor in front of you. Hoseok can feel the frustration radiating off of you.

“Yes, but maybe we should have sorted out the Js and Ws before printing...” He sets down his food and motions for you to hand him the pile.

Hoseok begins thumbing through the pages, wondering to himself how long it will take to narrow down the pool of potential soulmates. He locates the Ws and sets the rest of the pages aside.

“Here, let’s just start here and see what we can find.” He says, splitting the smaller stack in two and handing you half. Hoseok begins reading through each name on the page, pausing only to highlight a name or take a drink from his wine glass.

After about half an hour, Hoseok has highlighted two dozen names on his portion of the list. You're huddled over the pages, flicking the corners of it absent-midnedly. He can tell that you’ve lost steam, possibly from the two very full glasses of wine you’ve had tonight.

“Are you almost finished?” Hoseok sets his pages down on the floor next to him and leans his head back against the couch behind him.

“Oh yeah I finished, I just wanted to go back through to be sure.” You lean back from your hunched over position and lay flat against the floor.

“I’ve got about two dozen names, how many did you get?” Hoseok yawns and rubs his eyes.

“I found thirty.” You manage through a yawn of your own. It’s barely 9:00pm, but the mundane task of finding matching initials mixed with bellies full of take out and wine makes for a couple of very sleepy friends.

There’s got to be something he can do to reenergize the two of you. He knows you’re excited to find your soulmate. But after being by your side through so many failed attempts in the past few years, he can tell you’re starting to feel discouraged.

“Get up.” Hoseok says, an idea brewing in his mind. You look up at him, eyes narrowed. “Come on.” Hoseok gets up and moves to put himself toe to toe with you. He reaches into his pocket for his phone and scrolls through his playlist.

An upbeat song begins playing through the speakers and Hoseok extends his hands out to you. He can tell you’re fighting a grin and that makes his own smile double in size. You finally give in and grab hold of his hands. Hoseok quickly pulls you up off the ground and twirls you around before letting go.

“I’m not doing this Hobi.” You stand still, covering your face with your hands while the beat of the song fills up your small apartment. Hoseok’s body is moving to the music. He’s always been a dancer, effortlessly contorting his body, hitting each beat perfectly in time.

Hoseok knows you aren’t a good dancer, but he loves seeing you try. Loves watching you be silly. So he reaches for your hand once again and pulls you toward him. He uses his hands to guide you, gently shaking you to loosen up your joints. Your awkward movements make him laugh, but he’s happy to see you smiling again. Swaying along to the music with you, Hoseok feels good. The stress of the day melting away.

He twirls you away from his body as the song is ending, but instead of letting go he tugs on your arm, silently asking you to twirl back into his arms. You’re giggling when you fall back into his arms. His face is only inches away from yours and for the first time in a long time he finds himself wanting to close the distance.

When the two of you first met, he felt a pull to you. At first he had hoped that you were his soulmate. You were beautiful, funny, silly, and just what he had been looking for. There was no magic moment between you though. No signal that your connection to him was meant to be something more than friendship.

Before he can think too much about how your lips still look so soft, you pull away from him. Hoseok pauses to catch his breath, shaking his head to clear out the thoughts.

“Okay I do feel better.” You announce, moving to the kitchen to pop the second bottle of wine. Hoseok sits down on the couch, picking up his laptop. He logs onto Facebook, trying to occupy his mind by searching for the first guy on with the initials J W. “Alright, this is it.”

“What is it exactly?” Hoseok replies, distracted by a video of goats screaming to the tune of Taylor Swift’s latest single.

“We’re about to find my soulmate Hobi!” Your beaming smile is almost enough to quell the unsettled feeling growing in his gut.

“Right, right. Here goes nothing.” Hoseok types the name of the first guy on his list and begins scrolling through his available pictures. He is scrutinizing the stranger, his clothes, the way he poses for the pictures. Soulmate or not, is this guy really good enough for you?

“What should the game plan be?” You say, almost startling Hoseok. “Should we just do a quick round looking for the ring in the pictures?”

“Yes let’s do that, and then we can go back through if we don’t find the ring on anyone.” Hoseok nods moving to the next name on his list, silently hoping that he isn’t the one either.

~~~~~~~

It was very easy for you to get distracted looking at these potential soulmates. Of course, based on their social media profiles it was also pretty easy to rule some people out. Several of the men had their soulmate’s in the profile pictures. Some had visible soulmate marks or timers in their photos. But there were still a large number of men who could be the one. And you took your time sizing each one up.

Jason Williams is clearly athletic, plays for the university soccer team, and recently ran a marathon. It’s good for him, but you hope he won’t mind you sitting on the sidelines of the next marathon rather than participating.

Jaylen Williams has no photos available for viewing, but it only takes three seconds on his profile to realize that his views on feminism leave much to be desired.

Jesse Williams is a nerd, to put it lightly. His profile picture is a loveable picture of him dressed as Spiderman at last year’s comic con. Many of his posts are related to the Marvel Universe and you can tell that he takes it very seriously. According to his profile, he is studying physics.

Joshua Wilson seems nice. He’s playing guitar in his profile picture. His beanie and flannel shirt make you wonder if he considers himself a hipster. His latest post is about the inadequate coffee served at the local cafe and how he should just do it at home. Maybe he makes a good cup of coffee, you could get into that.

James Wilt is handsome. He’s hair smoothed perfectly back, facial hair trimmed neatly. Just as you’re about to scroll down to look at his posts, Hoseok interrupts you.

“Y/N?” He says quietly. “I think I’ve got him.” Your heart jumps into your throat. Setting the laptop down on the coffee table, you scoot over to look at Hoseok’s screen.

Jackson Wang. He’s gorgeous. And he’s clearly wearing the ring.

“Hobi...” You don’t really know what to say, but he seems to understand. He puts his arm around you and slides his laptop from his lap to yours. You begin scrolling through and seeing pictures of him surrounded by friends, they look like fraternity brothers. It’s not quite what you were expecting out of a soulmate, but as you continue looking through his profile you learn that you are actually quite compatible.

He has a similar taste in music, loves his family, he’s on the university fencing team, and he might love cheese even more than you do.

“I... I don’t want to be the one to say it, but all we know for sure is that it’s his ring.” Hoseok says sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, but he’s right. Just because you had a feeling about it doesn't guarantee that Jackson is your soulmate.

“There’s only one way to find out.” You say handing Hoseok’s laptop back to him.

“Right.” Hoseok nods before tilting his head. “Wait what?”

“I’ll send him a friend request and I’m going to message him. I’ll have to meet him in person.” You say as you begin typing out a message on your computer.

“You are NOT going to meet him in person Y/N. He’s a total stranger!”

“Hoseok he could be my soulmate!” You pleaded. There’s a long silence stretching between you. Hoseok is thinking, scanning your face. He’s spent the day helping you track him down and now suddenly he’s so concerned about you meeting him?

“I’ll go with you.” He mutters followed by a sigh of defeat. He sinks back into the couch as you finish typing out your message to Jackson and attach an image of the ring.

You: Hey, are you missing your ring? I found one that looks like it outside the Mathematics building. [9:13pm]

“And now we wait.” You sigh as you hit the send button. The tension between you and Hoseok is still palpable, but you reach for the remote to turn on the television. Luckily for you, Hoseok’s favorite movie is playing on one of the channels and it doesn’t take long for the tension to relax into a comfortable silence.

~~~~~~~

Hoseok wakes to a ping on your phone. The two of you had fallen asleep on the couch during the movie. The TV screen is now dark, credits slowly rolling through. Your phone is shining brightly from it’s spot on the coffee table.

Against his better judgement, Hoseok reaches for your phone.

Facebook: Jackson Wang has accepted your friend request. [11:46pm]

Facebook Messenger: Yeah wow! I’ve been missing it! [11:48pm]

Hoseok sets your phone back down and looks over at you. You’re fast asleep, head resting on the arm of the couch. It’s getting late.

“Y/N.” He whispers, nudging your foot with his own. You don’t stir, so he decides to get up and carry you to your bed. He carefully pulls back the throw blanket that covers you and hooks his arms under your body. The walk to your bed is short, but he trips over a pair of your shoes, almost dropping you. How are you still asleep?

When he reaches your bed, he sets you down gently and pulls your quilt over your shoulders. He gazes down at you. Once again feeling the pull to your lips. He leans down, brushes a few stray hairs off of your forehead and lightly brushes his lips against the skin of your forehead.

A warm sensation, tingling in his lips, a shiver down his spine. Hoseok pulls away, wide eyes staring down at you. But you don’t wake up. Though he would swear that he saw a smile pulling at your lips as he slowly backed out of the room.

~~~~~~~

As you slept you dreamed about meeting your soulmate. The warm feeling radiated throughout your body, all was right in the world. And when you wake you are happy to see a response from Jackson.

Jackson: Yeah wow! I’ve been missing it! [11:48pm]

You: Okay, wanna grab coffee and I can give it to you then? [9:23am]

Jackson: Haha, sounds great. Maybe tomorrow around 10? [9:56am]

You: That’s perfect, you know The Bean just north of campus? [9:59am]

Jackson: Yes I love that place. [10:01am]

You: Okay great! [10:01am]

You: Kind of a random question... [10:17am]

Jackson: Shoot [10:23am]

You: Do you know what your soulmate connection is? [10:24am]

You: I’m only asking because I don’t know mine. [10:27am]

You: And I thought maybe... [10:27am]

Jackson: Do you think you finding my ring could be... our connection? [10:30am]

You: I had a really good feeling about it when I found it. [10:31am]

Jackson: I don’t know mine, so maybe this is it... [10:34am]

You: I guess we’ll find out tomorrow, right? [10:35am]

Jackson: It’s a date. [10:39am]

~~~~~~~

The Bean is bustling today. Lots of people in and out, dozens of students working on projects and papers, so Hoseok has to sit a few tables away from you. The smell of the freshly ground beans

“I won’t be able to hear you that well.” He shouts across the cafe.

You’re too nervous to respond with something other than a shrug of your shoulders. Fiddling with the hem of your dress, you watch the door carefully waiting for him to walk in. The latte in front of you is still steaming, too hot to drink.

The bell above the door chimes, ringing out over the chatter that fills the coffee shop. And there he is. Jackson Wang. Walking toward you with a self-assured smile.

“Hi.” You mumbled, standing from your seat to greet him. He’s glowing in front of you, he’s all you can see. Jackson opens his arms you fit perfectly in them. You can feel butterflies in your stomach. It’s not as strong as you expected the soulmate bond to be, but it’s there.

“I guess this is yours.” You tug lightly on the ring you’ve been wearing around your neck.

“Well maybe you should wear it for a little longer.” Jackson replies, motioning for you to have a seat. “If we’re soulmates, that is?”

“Did you feel it too?” You ask shyly, tucking your hair back behind your ear. Jackson nods and reaches out to grab your hand across the table. The Feeling is here, just like it was when you picked up the ring, and you never want it to go away.

~~~~~~~

Hoseok watches the two of you chat for over an hour. He sees the exaggerated reactions you give to whatever story Jackson’s telling you. Just by the way your face is lighting up, he can tell you’re already falling hard.

Thinking back to the night before, Hoseok questions what happened. Was it just the wine going to his head? The two of you had been friends for so long now that he assumed it couldn’t be possible that the two of you were soulmates. Surely any hidden connection you had would have been realized by now. Maybe he’s just feeling jealous that you’re finally meeting your soulmate and he’s still alone.

But that kiss was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Deep in his thoughts, Hoseok doesn’t notice when you and Jackson stand from the table and walk over to his.

“Hobi, this is Jackson.” Hoseok jerks his head upward, met with a confident smile from Jackson. Hoseok quickly stands and extends his hand.

“I’m Hoseok, nice to meet you.” Jackson firmly shakes his hand. The two hold eye contact for just a little too long.

“She’s already told me so much about you. Thanks for helping her track me down.” Jackson chuckles. Hoseok looks over at you and notices that you are holding his other hand.

“Thanks for helping me find my soulmate.” You chirp happily. Hoseok narrows his eyes, looking back and forth between you and Jackson.

“Soulmates? Are you sure?” Hoseok questions you.

“Hoseok!” Your exclamation is accompanied by a slap on the arm. “Of course I’m sure!” You give a quick and embarrassed apology to Jackson.

The way you’re already clinging to Jackson makes Hoseok’s stomach twist. The look in your eye when you stare up at his face makes Hoseok want to shut his eyes. He can tell you’re smitten, but he’s got a bad feeling. Despite your obvious certainty that this is your soulmate, Hoseok can tell that something is just not right.

~~~~~~~

See you soon for Part 2! Comment to be added to the tag list! <3

Check out my Not Warriors Soulmate Series Masterlist!

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punyparkerfics · 4 years

Text

the one where it’s mother’s day

It’s Mother’s Day weekend, and Peter’s overthinking.

Word Count: ~7.2k

A/N: This is part of my One-offs series available on AO3

Peter was, in the simplest terms, upset. It was the Friday before Mother’s Day and Midtown was making a much bigger deal about it than he remembered them doing last year.

The Literature Club was selling Mother’s Day cards and flowers to fund their literary magazine. The Geology Club was holding workshops to create basic crystal jewelry and other trinkets for the holiday. And the Home Economics elective classes were making chocolate-dipped strawberries and other treats for mothers of the students. That was just the beginning of campus festivities celebrating mothers.

Peter never knew of Mother’s Day being such a big deal, especially at school. Sure, for kids with loving mothers, he understood the importance of the holiday. But, there were kids just like him that didn’t have a mother. There were even more kids that had bad relationships with their mothers. For those in question, holidays like Mother’s Day just inspired guilt and longing. Seeing other people love their moms as much as the average person does, makes kids like Peter realize just how much was taken from them by not having a loving mother.

It was easy enough to just walk past the kids heckling passersby to buy whatever it was they were selling, he could just stick his earphones in and book it down the hall. But, when Ned had come into their Spanish class 10 minutes before the bell rang with red and pink treats in a small Tupperware container and a wide grin, Peter realized getting out of today with minimal damage was easier said than done.

He was, understandably, very sensitive when it came to talk of his family. Especially his mother. Talking about the late Mary Parker often led the conversation to the late May Parker. Peter was very close with both women, more so May than Mary to no fault of anyone. May just happened to be there for a larger portion of his life. And she was amazing. Just as loving and warm as his real mother had been.

Peter always thought about considering May to be his mother, and Ben his father. But, he knew that neither of them really wanted children. While the couple surely loved Peter as their own child, he was still their nephew. Not their son. He was just closer to his aunt and uncle because they were the closest thing to him that filled the gaping hole in his heart that Richard and Mary left when they died. And it wasn’t until May bled out in Peter’s arms that he begged to any God listening for a mother. He didn’t think he needed one after Mary died because he had May. And she was more than enough. But, without her… Peter was lost without a mother.

“Peter!” Ned called, waving a hand in front of Peter’s face, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter shook his head to rid himself of the dread blooming in his gut, “What’s up?”

“I was telling you about the reject pile of cake pops and chocolate-dipped strawberries I have from Home Ec, but you seem to be elsewhere.”

“Sorry, man,” Peter sighed, “Today’s just been… I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong?” Ned asked, shoving the Tupperware into his friend's chest. Peter took the dish into his hand and sighed, grabbing a lumpy chocolate-dipped strawberry before taking a bite.

He chewed thoughtfully and set down the Tupperware before scrubbing a hand across his tired face. He wanted to ask Ned to just forget about it, that it wasn’t a big deal. But today was his weekly internship day. And he really wanted his teenage angst bullshit to be done and over with before he made it to Tony Stark’s lab. Plus, he was spending the weekend with the genius in the tower and didn’t want the holiday to spoil his fun.

Peter’s been friends with Ned for more than half of his life, since right after his parents died and he moved to Queens. Ned was by his side through his grief then, and again when May was murdered. Peter just knew his friend would understand.

“It’s just…” Peter swallowed, “It’s Mother's day on Sunday. And I… y’know.”

“Oh,” Ned’s face softened, “I’m sorry, man. That’s gotta hurt like crazy every year.”

“It does,” Peter nodded solemnly, “Everyone’s making a huge deal out of it this year for some reason. So I can’t really just… ignore it like I always have. It’s like the universe is subtly rubbing it in my face that I don’t have a mom.”

“Didn’t you and Ben spend the weekend in last year? Maybe you guys can do that again?” Ned suggested, wanting to help cheer his friend up.

“He’s working all weekend,” Peter shook his head before scoffing, “He asked Ms. Stark if I could stay at the tower since he won’t be home much. I guess he thinks I still need a babysitter.”

“I think he just didn’t want you to be alone this weekend,” Ned offered with a sad smile, “But, you’ll be with Ms. Stark! And that’s perfect, right?”

“How is that perfect? Doesn’t really change the orphan part.” Peter squinted with skepticism.

“Yeah, sorry man. I can’t really fix that,” Ned shrugged, “But she’s like… she’s basically like a mom to you. So you get to spend Mother's Day with her! It’s okay to, like, be sad about your mom and your aunt but, you’ll be with the next best thing!”

“What do you—” Peter’s question was cut off by the bell ringing. The teen huffed out a breath of frustration and watched students begin to trail in. He figured he still had a few moments before there’d be people eavesdropping, and Peter was desperate for an answer.

“What do you mean? She’s my boss, she’s not—” Peter whispered to Ned.

“C’mon, Peter,” Ned sighed, “You tell me all the time how motherly she is with you. And I know you really care about her.”

“What are you—” Peter shook his head in disbelief. What was Ned even saying?

“You told me on Monday that you and Ben had brunch with her on Saturday. That you spent last Friday night with her at the tower. That she made sure you ate enough, that you guys even had ice cream on her couch and watched Inside Out. You even said she comforted you when you cried. That’s pretty mom-like behavior if you ask me.” Ned explained with a nonchalant shrug.

“That’s not—” Peter was cut off by Ned shaking his head.

“She does things moms do for their kids. What your mom must’ve done for you before she died, and what I know for a fact May did too. Ms. Stark clearly cares about you, dude.”

“I don’t—” Peter began, his voice small. The idea of Ned thinking Ms. Stark acted like a mom towards Peter honestly scared him. Did Ms. Stark really feel that way? Maybe it was just a mistake. She didn’t mean to be all… motherly… Right? She’s just...really nice and caring.

Right?

“She’s not…” Peter shook his head, “She doesn’t feel that way. I couldn’t possib—”

“Peter,” Ned sighed again, “I bet if you asked her, she’d admit it. She cares about how you feel, and wouldn’t want you to be hurting the way you are now. Right?”

“Well, yeah, but,” Peter replied, “That doesn’t mean she loves me like a son!”

“I think she does,” Ned shrugged. Before Peter could respond, the late bell rang and their Spanish teacher, Señora Hernandez came rushing in.

“Lo siento, chicos!” She announced, “I was gathering supplies for today’s activity, so I was a little behind.”

Peter glanced at his teacher shuffling through stacks of art supplies on her desk and sighed. Of course. They were going to make something for their mothers today, weren’t they?

“Today, we are doing something nice. We’re having a unit exam next Friday, so we’ll begin preparation for that on Monday,” Sra Hernandez announced, “Today, since it’s the Friday before Mother’s Day and I don’t really want to start a new lesson so close to the exam, we’re just celebrating the holiday.”

Señora Hernandez began instructing the class on folding and constructing a tissue paper flower tied to twisted green craft wire and secured with tape. She went into detail, going over each step and showing the class what each step should look like. It was a simple craft that would take a majority of the class time to execute with over 20 students to instruct and accommodate to.

“Now, when I come to you,” Señora Hernandez announced with a smile, “You can pick one to two colors of tissue paper. Then you can begin cutting and folding the flowers. If you have any questions or need any help, feel free to ask a neighbor or me. Once your flower is done, come to my desk and get your wire. ¿Entiendes?”

“Entiendo,” The class replied in unison.

“And what are they for?” A random voice asked from the back. A collection of voices replied “Mother’s Day, duh!” or some other variation of that exact sentiment.

“Mother’s Day is on Sunday and these are for your wonderful mamas at home,” Sra Hernandez replied with a smile.

“What if we don’t want to make these for our mothers?” A familiar voice asked. Peter whipped around to see none other than Michelle Jones staring at the teacher with an expression just short of a scowl.

“Why wouldn’t you want to make one for your mom? That’s your mom. The least you could do is make a paper flower for her?” Another voice chimes in, Peter noticing it was the voice of Cheryl Tang. He wasn’t particularly friends with the cheerleader in question, but he’d had several classes with the girl since elementary school. Ben used to be close friends with Cheryl’s dad, so the two students often went to the other’s birthday party or other family events. The two knew each other enough to not be strangers, but not enough to be friends.

“The least I could do? What are you talking about?” Michelle asked.

“That’s your mother? Don’t you love her and w—“ Cheryl began but was interrupted by Sra Hernandez.

“Ladies, please,” The teacher tried to calm the interaction as she could see both students very passionately discussing a very touchy subject.

“No, as a matter of fact, I do not love my mother. She’s never done anything for me and—“ Michelle bit back, ignoring the teacher’s injection before Cheryl responded,

“How could you not love your mother? She’s your mom! She gave you life, she—“

“She gave birth to me then dumped me with my dad and my grandmother. She was never a mother. Not to me. She’s a stranger.”

“How could you say that? She—“ Cheryl seemed distraught. She, herself, loved her mother. Her mother was her best friend. And to hear Michelle speak so poorly of her own mother, it almost felt insulting to Cheryl. Peter, ever-the-helpful, wanted to just diffuse the situation without invalidating either girl’s feelings. So, gently, he spoke, “Cheryl, not everyone has a loving mother like you do. It’s great that you do and I’m glad you want to appreciate her on Mother’s Day, but not everyone else is lucky enough to have that.”

“It’s different for you, Peter,” Cheryl replied, not unkindly, “Your mother is dead. And so is your aunt, so you have no choice. But Michelle has a choice and—“

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Michelle asked, now she seemed angry, “Why would you say that? You think he doesn’t kn—“

“Ladies,” Sra Hernandez attempted to regain some sort of semblance of control over the class again. Once attention seemed to be on her, she placed her hands out, to calm the situation.

“Ladies, Señor Parker is right,” Señora Hernandez began, “Not everyone in life comes from or gets to go home to a family that includes a loving mother. That doesn’t mean they are any less loved or important. We can still love and appreciate what we have without drawing attention to what others may or may not have. Michelle, you’re more than welcome to skip this activity or give your flower to someone else you care for this Mother’s Day. Perhaps an aunt or you mentioned your grandmother? Do you have a good relationship with her?”

“Of course, I’d do anything for that woman. She’s my whole world and I love her very much,” Michelle nodded with passion, almost as if she was ready to strike someone about to badmouth the woman in question.

“That’s very sweet, mija,” Sra Hernandez replied with a smile, “Why don't you make your flower for her, then? Just a very small way to show her you love her and that you were thinking about her today. How does that sound?”

Michelle looked up at Peter with a sense of trepidation. It almost seemed as if she was asking him for permission, which confused him. Peter just offered her a smile and an encouraging nod. Just because he was having a crisis over the holiday, didn’t mean he wanted anyone, especially a friend like Michelle, to too. That’s just how Peter is. Michelle then hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement, “Yeah, okay.”

“Muy bien,” Sra Hernandez smiled. Luckily, Cheryl held her tongue. It was likely she was realizing that perhaps she was just lucky, rather than to expect everyone to have what she had.

Señora Hernandez proceeded to pass out the preferred colored tissue paper to each student as per request.

“So,” Ned chimed, “Are you gonna make a flower for Ms. Stark?”

“What?” Peter gaped, “Are you insane? Why would I do that?”

“Same reason Michelle’s making one for her grandmother,” Ned replied smugly.

“Ned,” Peter warned. He was starting to get uncharacteristically frustrated. Despite this, Ned seemed unfazed. Ned didn’t want to push his best friend, but he also didn't want the holiday to ruin his best friend’s weekend. It actually upset him to see Peter hurt so much when Ms. Stark was there for him.

“You don’t have to accept her as a mother, Peter,” Ned began, “She’s not going to replace your mom or May. But I know for a fact that they’d want you to be happy and accept all the love you can get. Ms. Stark cares about you, and you can’t deny that.”

“But,” Peter mumbled, “You don’t think it’s like… betraying them? Like I’m moving on or something with someone that isn’t even family.”

“She is family, just not by blood. You know that’s just as important, right?”

Peter nodded.

“It’s not betrayal, dude. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have as many people love you as possible. You’ve got me and my family, of course. Ben, most of all… And you’ve got Ms. Stark! That’s awesome and I know how happier you’ve become since you started spending more time with her.”

“But,” Peter began. Ned continued, “Dude, make her a flower, don’t make her a flower… whatever you want. I just don’t want you feeling like you don’t have someone who cares about you the way May and your mom did. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

Just then Señora Hernandez came up to Ned’s desk and allowed him to pick out his desired color of tissue paper.

“Peter,” The woman smiled kindly, “If you’d prefer to sit out on this activity, you’re welcome to either do homework for another class or even just listen to music on your phone if you’d like.”

Ned looked up at Peter to gauge his reaction. Peter was conflicted. Sure, he knew Ned was right and that his brain was just bullying his heart into not seeing Ms. Stark as a mother. His brain knew that Poor Peter Parker didn’t have a mother, because all the women that try will die before Peter even has the chance to appreciate it. But, right now, his heart wouldn’t shut up. This wasn’t the first time his heart told him that his brain was just overprotective; protecting the body and soul from further destruction. It happened whenever he found himself happy and secure with Ms. Stark, like on their late-night lab sessions, or movie nights in the penthouse. If Peter didn’t acknowledge that he had someone that held him, loved him, fed him, and cared for him like a mother, then when she inevitably died, it’d hurt much less. Or even better, she wouldn’t die at all. As long as Ms. Stark didn’t fall under the Poor Peter Parker Curse™, she’d live a long and happy life. Right?

So, maybe Peter lets his heart win this time… Would Ms. Stark even want a stupid tissue paper flower that he made for a Spanish class arts and crafts project for Mother’s day? No, right? She’s a billionaire, with a big fat capital B.

“I think she’d love it, Peter,” Ned said softly as if he was reading Peter’s thoughts himself. And, heck, maybe he was. Ned seemed to have a strange Peter telepathy, always knowing what his best friend was feeling just by one glance. Right now, Peter couldn’t be more grateful for it.

“Can I get yellow and red, Sra. Hernandez?” Peter asked with a hint of a smile.

“Por supuesto, cariño,” The teacher replied with a smile, handing the boy his requested materials, “If you boys need any help, just ask me, okay?”

“Gracias, Señora Hernández,” The two replied in sync.

The boys get to work on their paper flowers, chatting mindlessly about their history paper that had been assigned earlier that morning. They planned on working on it together during study hall, so they didn’t have to worry about it over the weekend. It was a family holiday, after all. The paper wasn’t due until next Friday, but the boys liked getting the first draft done almost immediately so they could spend a few days consulting each other and MJ for the revisions.

As if summoned, MJ came over to their desks and showed them her nearly completed flower with a smile. Peter returned the smile and held his own flower up to her, he was nearing the end of the folding process and he was proud of how well it was coming together. Ned was already done, just waiting for Peter so that they could go up to retrieve their green wire together.

“I used mama’s favorite colors,” Michelle said as her fingers expertly secured the last tab on the flower, “I think I’m gonna give it to her when she picks me up from school. Dad and I got her actual presents for Sunday, so this will just be a dumb little school thing. Just from me.”

“I’m sure she’ll love it just as much as her other gifts,” Peter assured her as he finished his flower up. He spun the tissue paper flower delicately in his hand to admire his work, “Maybe even more, since you took the time to make it yourself.”

“Yeah,” Michelle nodded, “Tony Stark will feel the same way.”

“Wha—?” Peter looked up at her with wide eyes.

“C’mon, loser, we all know a mama bear when we see one,” Michelle shook her head playfully, “I’ve known since she chaperoned that zoo trip.”

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.

“She tripped Flash and bought you dippin’ dots and a turtle plushie,” Ned replied for her.

“Then you fell asleep on her shoulder on the way back to school,” Michelle added with a shrug.

“God, that was embarrassing,” Peter sighed, covering his eyes with his hands.

“She seemed fine with it,” Michelle smiled, “Plus, no one would give you a hard time about it. Not after everything you’ve been through. No one here’s that cruel, y’know?”

“Not even Flash has brought it up,” Ned agreed.

“Flash saw?!” Peter cried, burying his face in his arms on his desk.

“It’s fine, Parker,” Michelle said, casually fixing up the petals on her flower, fluffing them out, “Like we said, no one’s that cruel.”

“Whatever,” Peter sighed, standing up and leading the trio to Señora Hernandez’s desk.

Luckily, the rest of the period went without mention of the holiday. His friends were able to expertly talk around the upcoming Sunday altogether as if the art project was random and there wasn’t a holiday just two days away. Peter was grateful, as he figured the more he dwelled on it, the more nervous he’d become.

Before he knew it, it was hours later and study hall was crawling to an end. He and Ned had finished their rough draft nearly 20 minutes ago and were just sitting in agonizing boredom, waiting for the final bell to ring. The tissue paper flower felt like it was burning a hole in Peter’s hoodie pocket, where he had delicately tucked it away; checking on it every so often to make sure it didn’t get crushed.

Restlessly, he pulls out a blank sheet of printer paper from the stack in the center of the table Ned had gathered for the two to brainstorm on. Peter begins doodling random bits and bobs, mainly little spider webs, a little cheeseburger because his powers made him already burn through the large lunch he had eaten and made him a bit peckish, amongst other things. Ned looks up from his phone and looks at Peter doodling with a small smile. Peter was never one to sit still, not as long as Ned had known him, anyway. The Parker boy always had to be doing something, even if only just internally. Whether that be bouncing his leg, tapping a pen, or counting floor tiles, Peter was always occupied subconsciously doing something. Doodling was a common occurrence for him.

“You should make Ms. Stark a card,” Ned suggested as he nudged Peter’s side with his elbow.

“What do you mean?” Peter mumbled half-heartedly, his eyes glued to his paper where he carefully drew an Iron Woman helmet.

“To give her with the flower, make it official,” Ned shrugged. Peter froze for a second before looking up at his friend. By then, Ned had already resumed scrolling on his phone, not paying much attention to Peter as he waited for the bell to ring. Peter looked at him for a long moment before deciding he was right.

Peter continued doodling so he could think of what to write on the card, or what to decorate it with. He had about 15 minutes until the bell would ring and he’d have to meet Happy out in front to take him to the tower. Peter racked his brain for something that wasn’t pathetic or embarrassing and unfortunately came up with nothing. He let out a frustrated sigh and was about to crumple up his doodles when he stopped to actually look at it.

The paper was covered in little Spider-Man figures: his mask, webs, a crude doodle of his web-shooters, and a little scribble of droney. It also had a large variety of Iron Woman related doodles: her helmet, her repulsors, the arc reactor, even a tiny little Dum-E with his dunce cap on. The gaps in the paper were filled with little doodles of food and even scenes of Spider-Man kicking Captain America in the face and stealing the man’s shield. Peter couldn't think of a better design for a card if he tried.

This was his subconscious’ doing. He had absent-mindedly drawn whatever his body brought forth with muscle memory while he thought about spending Mother’s Day weekend with a woman he’d grown to love more than he ever intended to.

Acknowledging this, Peter carefully folded the paper in half and scribbled a note inside. All he could do now is put it all out on the table for his mentor and hope she didn’t laugh at him for too long.

Suddenly, the bell rang and kids quickly scattered to get the hell out of there. Peter packed up, carefully tucking away the card so it didn’t get crumpled up. He fished out the flower from his pocket and fluffed out some of the petals that had been the smallest bit smooshed. Satisfied with his work, Peter turned to Ned, waiting for the boy to finish packing up. Soon enough, the boys were walking towards the student pick-up area. It was then that they passed by the botany club packing away the last of their unsold plants for the day. Peter saw a sign that prompted passersby to ask about their cactus flowers for Mother’s Day which stopped him in his tracks. He walks up to the booth, Ned treading behind him.

“Hey, can I ask about the cactus flowers?” Peter spoke to Jeremy Cochran, a senior boy he used to eat lunch with when Ned was out of school for an entire month with some horrible stomach bug he picked up from traveling abroad.

“Oh,” Jeremy smiled at Peter, setting down a carton of the plants in question. They were small potted cacti with flowers blooming beautifully on top, ranging from white to yellow and bright pink, “Well, cactus flowers are a symbol of maternal love in Native American culture. Like cactus flowers, a mother’s love won’t die for even the harshest of conditions; it can withstand pretty much anything with enough care.”

“Really?” Peter asked, looking down at the petite flower with a hint of awe.

“Yeah,” Jeremy explained, “They also have really prominent medicinal properties, which can represent a mother’s protective quality over her children.”

“And so you guys are selling these for Mother’s Day?” Peter asked, looking back up at Jeremy.

“Yeah,” He nodded, “They’re only like a buck fifty now that we’re all gonna go home now.”

Without hesitation, Peter fished out his wallet from his back pocket and handed Jeremy two dollar bills.

“I’d like one, please,” Peter said with a hopeful smile. Jeremy nodded and took the money, handed him his change, and carefully transferred the cactus with the brightest flowers blooming beautifully on top of it. Peter took the plant with a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Jeremy,” The boy nodded, “Have a good weekend.”

Jeremy nodded in return and Peter and Ned continued their way to the front of the school.

“Dude, now you’re totally going to show me up on Mother’s Day.” Ned groaned, “All I got my mom was stupid knife set which I’m almost certain she already has.”

“You think Ms. Stark will like it?” Peter asked as he spun the cactus in his hand, mindful of the pricks.

“I think she’ll love it, Peter,” Ned smiled, ‘“It’s from you, anyway.”

“Ha,” Peter exhaled, “Maybe you’re right.”

Just then, Peter looks up to see Happy pull up. He turns to Ned and gives him his normal goodbyes, and wishes him and his mom a good weekend, asks Ned to give his mom a kiss on the cheek for him; Ned agrees to.

“Hey, Happy,” Peter greets with a wide smile as he hops in the backseat, chucking his backpack to the car’s floorboard and delicately setting down this two flowers, the paper one and the spiky one, on the seat beside him so he can buckle his seatbelt. Once the belt is secured, he scoops them back up and holds them securely on his lap.

“Whatcha got there, kid?” Happy asks with a quirked brow, Peter usually brought with him poster boards for science exhibitions or models of whatever science or history project he was working on. Never a paper flower and a real-life cactus.

“Oh just some flowers,” Peter replied with a shrug. As sure as he was about giving them to Ms. Stark, he was still nervous. He wasn’t sure how to put it all into words in such a way without embarrassing himself. He was hoping to take the car trip to the tower to figure out what he was going to say to Ms. Stark when he gave it to her. Then he began to panic…

Should I give it to her now? Should I wait for Sunday? Do I wait until after dinner? Do I give it to her before breakfast? What if she’s allergic to the cactus flower or something? What if she—

“Oh, right,” Happy nodded with a thoughtful hum. Peter was speechless. Did Happy know what they were for?

He was quiet for the rest of the trip to the tower, and only uttered a quick thank you before darting from the car to his designated entrance.

“Good afternoon, Peter,” FRIDAY chimed pleasantly.

“Hey, Fri,” Peter greeted quietly, his gaze glued to the gifts in his hands.

“Boss is currently in the shower, just came back from a board meeting.” The AI announced, “She requested you prepare or order yourself food while she finishes up.”

“Okay,” Peter cleared his throat nervously. He had to keep reminding himself that Ms. Stark was someone he could trust with his life. She wasn’t someone who would just walk out of his life over some stupid arts and craft project and a cactus flower. Tony was someone he trusted wholly and she had been very careful to not break that trust. He didn’t have to be nervous around her.

Peter went rifling through the fridge, looking for something to reheat. He automatically grabbed one of the Capri suns there for him and sucked it down as his eyes scanned the food available.

“How old’s this lasagna, FRIDAY?” Peter asked as he pulled out the large glass dish from the fridge.

“Boss made that lasagna Wednesday night,” FRIDAY responded.

“You think she’d mind if I had some?” Peter asked, already grabbing a serving spoon from the drawer with utensils.

“Of course not,” FRIDAY replied, he could almost hear a hint of a chuckle in her voice, “In fact, she was worried about it going to waste.”

“Well that won’t be an issue with me around,” Peter mumbled with a smile as he served himself a large serving onto a plate before chucking it into the microwave. He finished off his juice pouch and threw it away before replacing the lasagna to its place in the refrigerator. He was humming and lightly thumping his fork against the table, waiting for his food to finish reheating when his eyes fell onto the cactus flower again.

Just as dread was about to start swirling in his gut again, he sighed and decided to stop being ridiculous. For now, the gifts would wait in his room until Peter was ready to give them to Ms. Stark. Out of sight, out of mind.

After placing his fork down, the teen fished the card out of his backpack and set it on the counter beside the gifts. Then, he unzipped his backpack and carried the three items to his room on Ms. Stark’s private floor.

He’d had the room for the last three months, and he spent nearly every other weekend there. After Ben found out about Peter’s extra-curricular activities, and he allowed himself to freak out for a couple of days, he decided it was best that Peter spent more time with Tony to get some proper training under his belt. Ben wanted his nephew to be as protected and prepared for anything that could come his way as a crime-fighting vigilante. Thankfully, it was an easy stipulation that all parties could agree on: Peter spends a few days a week (including every other weekend) at Stark Tower, either upgrading the suit’s safety protocols, learning how to properly use said protocols, or training in hand-to-hand combat.

He had massively improved in his fighting skills and he almost never gets hurt on patrol anymore thanks to his training. He and Ms. Stark spend a lot more time together, just as much time goofing around and relaxing as they do putting in hard work. It’s been a crazy last few months and Peter hasn’t been this happy since… well, since before. That had to count for something.

After safely depositing the gifts on his desk in his room, he went back to the kitchen and dug into his reheated lasagna. He was shocked that it wasn’t bad at all. Ms. Stark isn’t particularly known to be a great cook, and the two almost always eat takeout when Peter’s over. But he was also used to the culinary talents of Ben and May Parker, which left a lot to be desired. Maybe that’s what made this lasagna taste so damn good. Before he knew it he was wolfing it down when Ms. Stark came walking in.

Her bare feet padded lightly against the smooth floors as she ran a towel through her long dark hair.

“Hey, kiddie,” She greeted as she grabbed a cup and filled it with water, “How was school?”

“Good, Ms. Stark,” Peter gulped his mouthful with a nod, “No homework this weekend.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Tony teased with a quirked brow as she sipped her water.

“Would I lie to you?” Peter asked, his voice muffled from the food being crammed into his mouth. Tony giggled and shook her head before pouring him his own glass of water and sliding it over.

“No,” Tony said before taking another sip, “I guess not.”

“This is really good lasagna, Ms. Stark,” The boy said as he scooped the rest of what remained on his plate and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed and hummed pleasantly.

“Oh, thank you,” Tony nodded, setting her towel on the back of a chair sitting beside the kitchen island, “It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“I didn’t know your mom cooked,” Peter said before gulping down his water.

“I didn’t either,” Tony replied as she took Peter’s plate and fork from him, despite his protests, “Ana Jarvis gave me her cookbook after my parents died. Apparently my mom used to love cooking before she had her own family. The lasagna is something I practiced making a lot during my early twenties.”

Tony rinsed off Peter’s dishes before sticking them in the dishwasher. She wiped off her hands on a nearby dish towel and refilled her water cup. If she’s drinking this much water, she must be pretty dehydrated, Peter thought.

“Well, it was delicious, Ms. Stark,” Peter nodded his thanks, “FRIDAY said you wouldn’t mind if I had some, I hope it’s okay—”

“Oh, of course,” Tony assured him with a wave of her hand, “There’s plenty and it’s probably gonna go bad if it doesn’t get eaten soon.”

“Did you cook a lot with Ana Jarvis?” Peter asked, his mind still reeling from learning he had just eaten a recipe from Maria Stark.

“Baked, mostly,” Tony replied, her hip settling next to the counter, “We had chefs and stuff, so Ana showed me how to bake as a way to give me something to do and stay out of my dad’s way, I guess.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Peter asked after he drained the rest of his water, placing the empty cup in front of himself. Again, despite his protesting to do it himself, Tony took the cup and topped it off before returning it to the boy. He tipped his head in a silent thanks before taking another gulp.

“Yeah,” Tony smiled fondly as she thought back to the times she spent with Ana in the kitchen, “She and Jarvis always looked after me well. They were loving and kind. They encouraged me and praised me at every turn. They were very special to me.”

Peter’s throat tightened at the sight of emotion over the billionaire’s face. Her eyes were soft and her mouth was quirked into a content smile. His chest tightened as he saw her think back at her childhood with fondness. Peter was glad she had people who loved and took care of her the way the Jarvises did. He’ll always be grateful they were there for her.

“They must’ve been amazing people, then,” Peter said softly, “Considering how you turned out, they’d have to be.”

Tony chuckled and shook her head, “They were the best. I know they would’ve loved you.”

“R-really?” Peter choked.

“Yeah, who wouldn’t,” Tony shrugged before finishing off her water and placing her cup in the dishwasher, “Maybe I can show you some of Ana’s recipes. She made the best lemon cookies, ugh, they’re to die for. You can take some to Ben and show him I’m capable of feeding you.”

“Alright, so what’s on the agenda this weekend, kiddo?” Tony continued on, “Does your suit need any patching or are we training? Are you low on web fluid? Maybe we should work on a way to pack more volume into the canisters. I don’t like the idea of one running out while your swinging across Manhattan, it keeps me up at night—”

That was all it took for Peter to be filled with the certainty to do it at all and the courage to do it right now. Tony paused in her rambling as she saw Peter stood there frozen staring at her. She couldn’t hear the boy’s heart pounding in his chest or feel the way his throat went dry with emotion. Tony couldn’t know what was going through his head when he seemed to blink tears from his eyes before clearing his throat and saying, “Uhh, I’ll be right back, Ms. Stark. I gotta grab something from my room,” and running off.

Tony stood with a quirked brow and an air of confusion around her.

“He okay, Fri?” Tony asked the empty room.

“Nothing seems out of the ordinary to me, boss,” The AI replied. Before Tony could press, Peter came bounding in, his arms seemingly full of stuff.

“What’s all this, Pete?” Tony asks as Peter set a small potted cactus with blooming flowers, a red and yellow tissue paper flower, and a handmade paper card onto the counter in front of her with a small smile.

“Well, my school was making a huge deal about it, and at first it got me pretty blue. But, Ned and MJ basically forced me to realize instead of being so sad about what I don’t have anymore, I should show my appreciation for what I do have now,” Peter rambled, “So we made these flowers in Spanish class, I tried keeping it from getting squished but it’s a little somber-looking now, sorry. But, I made it myself and Uncle Ben always says that those presents are worth more than anything money can buy.”

Tony stood shocked still looking down at the three items. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, or the kid’s nervous rambling.

“Oh and one of the things that clubs were selling were these cactus flowers,” Peter continued, “My friend Jeremy is part of the Botany club and he told me that to Native Americans, they represent maternal love since they can survive pretty much anything. And cactus flowers are known for their healing properties, too. That represents a mother’s protective quality over her children.”

Tony’s heart swelled in her chest. Of course, it was Mother’s Day that weekend. Ben had mentioned that this weekend was one in particular that he didn’t want Peter to be alone for. Without question, Tony agreed to take the kid for the weekend.

It wasn’t until after FRIDAY had asked her if she still wanted a bouquet of flowers delivered to Ana Jarvis and Maria Stark’s respective resting places, much like she had every year, that it had dawned on her why. Peter was going to spend his second ever Mother’s Day without May Parker, the woman who had raised him and loved him as her own.

Of course, that would be difficult for the kid. And Tony agreed that he shouldn’t be left alone for such an occasion. She figured she’d bug the kid the whole weekend so he didn’t have a free moment to be so sad about everything he’d lost in such a short life. She was also prepared for him to stand his ground and tell her he just needed space to grieve. Either way, she’d be there for him. Just like always.

Because it took one, Peter Benjamin Parker, to crack her in what had to be the lowest of low points in her life. Peter gave her so much happiness and confidence in herself. He gave her more than she’d ever been able to repay him. He gave her something to look forward to, something to live and thrive for. He gave her everything.

And now, here he was, giving her gifts for Mother’s Day. And here she was, choked up with emotion and tears clouding her vision.

“I had never heard of that before,” Peter continued on, unaware of his mentor’s emotions, ”It sounded really nice and Ned had already talked me into making you a card. So, I wanted to get you more than just a little paper flower, y’know?”

Tony willed herself to grab the card and look it over. Tiny little doodles of Iron Woman and Spider-Man littered the outside of the card, as did doodles of burgers and french fries, hot chocolate with marshmallows and pizza slices. Tony could see with one look that the card represented not only their bond as heroes but also as regular people.

Because at the end of the day, after the wounds are patched up and the bad guys are put away, Tony and Peter spent time together doing things any pair of people who cared for another would do. Eating, watching movies, helping one another. That’s what families did. That’s what Ana and Jarvis had done; that’s what Tony and Peter do.

Inside the card, in the kid’s charmingly sloppy handwriting, the words

Happy Mother’s Day, Ms. Stark.

Thank you for always being there for me,

and for letting me always be there for you.

You’ll always be my hero.

With Love, Peter (Kid)

stared back at her.

When she was finally able to tear her eyes away from the card, she saw Peter staring back at her with his eyes impossibly wide.

“Do you, uh,” Peter stammered, “Do you like it?”

“Oh, Peter,” Tony sniffled before pulling the kid into a tight hug, “I love it, honey. You have no idea what it means to me. What you mean to me.”

“You mean a lot to me, too,” Peter said into her shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, “You were a mom to me when I really needed one. I can’t ever thank you enough for it.”

“If you make me cry any more than you already have, I might have to kick your ass,” Tony sniffled again, her hand coming up to wipe away the fat tears on her cheeks, “I love you, kiddo. I don’t say it enough, but you have to know it’s true.”

“I know,” Peter hummed as he wiped away tears of his own, “I love you too.”

If Tony pressed a kiss to his cheek, if they forwent lab time that night because Tony ended up just crying when she thought about the card again an hour later, if they spent the evening cuddled up on the couch and eating greasy takeout like always, if they spent the next day trying Ana Jarvis’ lemon cookie recipe, if they went out to a noisy brunch that Sunday and stuffed themselves with french toast, and if a month later, Peter still saw the cactus, tissue paper flower, and card displayed on her desk in her office at SI, then that was no one’s business but theirs.

#female tony stark #spider-man #iron dad #iron mom #irondad #ironmom #iron man fanfiction #spider-man fanfiction #peter paker #mother's day

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sparrow-flies-south · 4 years

Text

Ten Things [2]

Fandom: Sanders Sides Pairings: Anxceit, Royality Intrulogical Summary: Ten Things I Hate About You AU When Roman Prince learns that Patton Foster isn’t allowed to date until his older brother, Virgil, is, Roman is crushed. Roman’s twin brother Remus, however, comes up with a plan: find someone who is willing to date Virgil. And who better to ask than Janus Verona, who according to rumours is willing to do anything for the right price? Taglist (ask to be added!): @someone-idk-is-here

Notes: Been awhile, so have an extra long chapter to make up for it! I want to switch to updating every Saturday now this is my main project. I've switched to using Janus instead of Dee, so I edited the first chapter and summary to reflect that. There's no other differences to the first chapter. Also *pokes tags* there's intrulogical in this now.

AO3 Link - Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six

Roman cleared his throat and looked over the ragtag group of students he’d gathered before him.

Luc Edwards, Scott Brown, Tyler Ellis, Pete Campbell and Alex Swift. Three of Virgil’s friends, and two boys Roman knew sat next to Virgil in class. He and Remus had spent all of Monday spying, making notes of who Virgil spoke to, who he sat by, who he ate lunch with. After much debating, and a fair dose of stalking on social media, the two had come up with a shortlist.

That morning, he and Remus had both ended up late to their first class because they’d been delivering notes to each of the five, telling them to meet in one of the maths classrooms that Roman knew would be empty at this time.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I brought you here today,” Roman began.

“Who are you?” Alex Swift, a gangly boy with greasy hair and acne covering his face asked.

“That not important,” Roman dismissed. “What is important is that one of you is going to take Virgil Foster out on a date.”

“Who?” asked Tyler Ellis, who Roman knew ate lunch with Virgil every day.

“That weird emo kid,” Scott Brown answered.

“Why do you want one us to date Virgil?” Alex asked.

“As a part of a scheme to allow me to date his brother,” Roman replied. “But that’s not important.”

“Question,” said Luc Edwards, who, unlike the others, was perched on a table. “What’s in it for us?”

“Uh, the joy of Virgil’s company?”

Luc snorted. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy?”

Okay, Roman was beginning to hate everyone in the room. Weren’t they supposed to be Virgil’s friends?

“Quite sure,” he said through gritted teeth.

Luc shook his head. “He’s a freak. He never even speaks.”

“I heard him speak once,” Pete said timidly. “He asked how often the school tested the fire alarms.”

“Probably planning on burning the place down,” Scott muttered.

Roman stared at him. He knew that outsiders judged his friendships for the friendly insults he handed out like candy, but even he had limits, and talking about someone like that behind their back broke all of them. He was beginning to get the urge to defend Virgil’s honour.

“Do any of you actually like him?” Roman asked.

“He doesn’t speak,” Luc repeated. “We let him hang around with us because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Honestly, it’s kinda pathetic.”

Roman looked from person to person. None of them met their eyes.

Luc sighed. “Look, good luck with your search, but honestly? Don’t get your hope up.”

With that, Luc jumped down from the table and left the room. Roman looked at the four remaining boys, but his hope was dying. Luc had seemed to be the unofficial leader of Virgil’s group, commanding their attention. He’d been Roman’s favourite, though Remus had disagreed.

The other boys exchanged glances. For a moment, no one spoke.

“Sorry,” Pete said at last, “But he’s not my type.”

“He’s a loser.”

“Forget it.”

“I still don’t know who that is.”

One boy one, the boys left the classroom, until Roman was alone. He groaned, and thudded his head against the wall. So much for that idea. So much for Virgil’s shitty friends.

He sighed, and then went to find Remus.

***

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Logan said.

The two of them were sat at their favourite table in the library, hidden away among the stacks. In front of them was their homework, which Patton was currently face down on, bemoaning his current romantic status.

It had been the fifth time they’d had that conversation since Friday. Logan had kept track.

“Maybe,” Patton mumbled into the desk, which was an improvement on the last four conversations, when he hadn’t been willing to listen.

“It will give you more time to study,” Logan pointed out.

Patton lifted his head and pulled a face. “Okay, I get it.” He sat up fully and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I hate French.”

“Just be glad you didn’t take Spanish,” Logan said, drily.

Mischief suddenly danced in Patton’s eyes. “Oh? Why’s that, Lo?”

“Because-“ Logan stopped himself. “No. You are not going to distract me like that.”

“Like what?” asked a new voice, and Remus Prince slid into the third seat at the table.

Patton and Logan exchanged glances, and then looked back at Remus, who looked as if sitting with them was the most normal thing in the world, even though they’d never had a conversation together.

They knew who Remus was, of course, even outside of Patton’s crush on his brother. Everyone knew who Remus was. It had taken him less than a year at Padua High to reach a level of infamy most students could only aspire to. Patton still shuddered every time he saw a duck.

Remus looked between them. “Are you guys having a stroke?”

“No,” Logan said. “We’re merely… surprised you chose to sit with us.”

Remus shrugged. “Gotta keep an eye on who my brother’s dating,” he said, and grinned at Patton like a shark.

Patton swallowed. “Roman and I aren’t dating.”

“Right,” Remus said, and then muttered something that sounded like ‘yet’. “So,” he added cheerfully. “What are we talking about?”

“Spanish,” Patton said sweetly.

Logan glared at him. “No, we’re-.”

“Ugh,” Remus threw his head back. “Spanish is the worst. Mrs Richards has no idea what she’s talking about.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “And her pronunciation-,”

“It’s awful!” Remus finished. “Like, has she ever seen a native speaker?”

Logan nodded, and then narrowed his eyes. “How would you know? Don’t you sleep through most Spanish classes?”

“Yeah, but it creeps into my dreams and gives me nightmares.”

“No, I mean- how do you how bad she is if you don’t pay attention to what she’s teaching.”

Remus looked at him like he was stupid. It was not a look Logan got very often. “I… speak Spanish?”

“You do?” Logan asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Remus said. “I grew up speaking it. You guys didn’t know that?”

“We don’t exactly know you,” Patton pointed out. “And you are taking it as a class.”

“Yeah, because it’s an easy A.”

“Of course,” Logan muttered.

Patton gasped and clapped his hands together, making the other two jump. He glanced around guiltily at the noise, but there was no one nearby to get annoyed.

“Remus, you speak Spanish!” Patton exclaimed.

“That’s… what we were just talking about?” Remus said.

Patton turned to Logan. “Remus can tutor you!”

“What?” Logan and Remus asked at the same time.

“Well, you’re always talking about how you wish you had someone to practise with! Here’s your chance.”

Logan and Remus looked at each other uncertainly.

“I don’t think Remus wants to do that,” Logan said.

“You don’t know what I want,” Remus protested.

Logan narrowed his eyes. Remus gave his biggest shit-eating grin.

“I wouldn’t want to presume-,”

“It’s not presuming if you just ask me.”

“I don’t have the money for a tutor.”

“I’ll do it out of the goodness of my heart!”

Logan and Remus stared at each other. Remus’s smile took on a slightly sinister nature.

“Unless,” Remus said, “There’s some reason you don’t want me to tutor you.”

It was a challenge and a game all wrapped into one. Remus was watching Logan carefully, waiting to see what he’d do, if he’d admit to not liking Remus or come up with an excuse.

Logan had never backed down from a challenge. Not when he was eleven, and his teacher had given him advanced work and not bothered to explain it because ‘other people need my time more’, which Logan had taken home and researched until he understood. Not when he was fourteen, and his teacher had asked if he’d like to teach the class instead, and Logan had snapped back ‘I’d probably do a better job than you’. Not when he was fifteen and the history teacher had dismissed his comments with ‘you don’t know more than the textbook’, so Logan had compiled a ten page list of sources that showed the textbook was wrong.

He certainly wasn’t going to back down when Remus Prince was staring at him with those infuriating brown eyes.

So he changed the game.

“In that case,” Logan said, forcing his face into a smile, “I accept your offer.”

Remus gaped at Logan, and Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Unless there’s some reason you don’t want to tutor me?”

Remus burst into laughter. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Patton, whose eyes had darted back and forth between them like a spectator at a tennis match, now smiled as if everything was fine. Remus suspected that Patton hadn’t understood what was happening. Logan knew better.

“What the hell are you doing in the library?” someone called, and the trio turned around.

Roman stood there with his arms crossed, looking exasperated at Remus. It was a common look on Roman’s face.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, am I not allowed to be a good student?”

“Not when it means I have to search the entire school looking for you!”

Patton cleared his throat. “Is… everything okay?”

Roman jerked when he noticed Patton sitting there. “Ah, Patton! Yes, everything’s fine, I just need to borrow my brother here.”

“Smooth,” Remus commented.

Roman’s only response was to grab Remus by the arm and pull him out of the chair.

“Ow! Hey! Okay, okay, I’m going. See you later, Nerdy Wolverine!”

The librarian glared at Roman dragged Remus past her desk. Roman gave an apologetic look. Remus grinned and blew a kiss.

“You’re not very subtle,” Remus pointed out when they were standing in the corridor outside.

“Shut up,” Roman snapped.

“Ooh, grumpy! So how did the meeting go?”

Remus began walking through the halls and Roman did too.

“How do you think?”

“I think Operation: Get Virgil Foster Laid has hit a wall.”

Roman rubbed a hand over his face. “We are not calling it that.”

“But fear not!” Remus continued. “I have a solution.”

Roman narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What solution?”

“I’m so glad you asked! See, there was one big flaw with your plan-,”

“It was your plan!”

“-And that’s that you lacked incentive! No one’s going to do things for the goodness of their hearts!”

“So what do you suggest?” Roman asked.

“Use money! What else are you going to do with it- use it to pay for dates?”

“Okay,” Roman said. “Let me get this straight-,”

“Hah!”

“-You want me to pay someone to date Virgil Foster.”

“Not just anyone! It’s all about finding the right person.”

They had reached the cafeteria now. Remus pulled open the door with a flourish.

“Fortunately, I know exactly who that person is.”

Roman followed Remus’s gesture to a table near the back of the cafeteria, where a boy was sat wearing a black leather jacket over a yellow shirt. A hat hid most of his face, but Roman could just about make out a large burn scar from underneath his left eye to his jaw.

He sat alone, attention on the book in front of him. The crowd at the tables near him seemed electrified. Everyone was aware of his presence, but no one dared look over.

Roman shook his head. “Isn’t that Janus Verona?”

When Roman and Remus had first joined the story, Janus had become an urban legend in his absence. The boy with the strange name and scar on his face, which should have made him the perfect target for bullies, but instead he became something else. Everyone had a friend who’s sibling or cousin had messed with him, or who he just hadn’t liked, and had their lives ruined for it.

If you wanted dirt on someone, he probably already had it. If you wanted a fake ID, or alcohol, or tickets to a sold out concert, he could get it for you. He’d do anything you asked, if you had the money.

He hadn’t shown up what should have been his senior year because he was in prison for murder. Because he’d quit school and joined the mob. He was in prison, but it was extortion, not murder. The murder part was true, but he’d fled the country because of it.

Roman had wondered whether he’d even existed in the first place.

And then Janus had come back, and started his senior year one year late.

Janus had become ten times more powerful through not being there, and the school had its resident bogeyman back. Roman had seen him a handful of times in the halls, and had always kept his head down and stayed away.

Whatever the rumour were, Janus Verona was clearly trouble.

“It’s perfect,” Remus said, cutting off Roman’s thoughts. “We pay him, he takes Virgil out, you and Patton get to be together and I don’t have to listen to your whining.”

“It’s Janus Verona,” Roman hissed, because clearly Remus was not getting how insane that was.

“I know,” Remus said, starry eyed. “Isn’t he great?”

Roman did manage to resist the urge to scream, but it was a near thing.

“Look,” Remus said. “We tried it your way. It went down like the Hindenburg.”

“That doesn’t mean we should resort to hiring a criminal!”

“Got any better ideas? I’m all ears.”

Roman opened his mouth, then shut it again. He glared at Remus.

“Great!” Remus said, and dragged Roman over to Janus’s table.

Janus did not look up from his book as the two of them approached. They stood at in front of the table. Janus still didn’t look up. Roman glanced at Remus, who shrugged. He cleared his throat.

“Roman and Remus Prince,” Janus said, his eyes still on the book. “Why ever would two model citizens like you come to someone like me?”

Remus took this as an invitation to pull out a chair and throw himself into it. “I just want to say, I’m a big fan of your work.”

That was enough to get Janus to look up from his book. He had the same confused and mildly horrified look most people got upon meeting Remus. “…Thank you?”

Roman sat down. “Ignore my brother, he’s morally deficient.” Remus kicked him under the table. “We want to hire you.”

Janus hummed. “I charge extra if you want it to look like an accident.”

“What?” Roman exclaimed. “No! We don’t- are you offering to kill someone!?”

Janus met his eyes and raised an eyebrow for a moment, the most terrifying one of Roman’s life. Then he threw his head back with loud, cackling peals of laughter. Remus beamed.

“Oh,” Roman said, laughing nervously. “You were joking. You- you are joking, right?”

“Certainly,” Janus said. “You wouldn’t be able to afford my fee.”

“This is the greatest day of my life,” Remus whispered.

“So.” Janus leaned back in his chair, “What can I do for you? Don’t bother getting all embarrassed, I promise, I’ve heard it all before.”

Roman glanced at Remus, who nodded. “We’d like to hire you to date Virgil Foster,” he said.

“Okay,” Janus said after a moment’s silence. “I haven’t heard it all before. You do realise I’m not an escort, don’t you?”

“I don’t want you to have sex with him,” Roman cried, then ducked his head, blushing, when he realised everyone had probably heard that. “I just- look, I want to date Patton Foster, okay?”

“Whatever you’re about to tell me, I assure you I don’t care,” Janus drawled.

“So I asked Patton out, and he was like, ‘I’ll have to ask my dad’, but then his dad was like ‘not unless Virgil dates’, which apparently is impossible. So Remus and I came up with an idea-,”

“I came up with it,” Remus interrupted.

“So Remus came up with, and I improved upon, an idea: we find someone to date Virgil.”

“And how did that go?” Janus asked, looking mildly interested despite himself.

“Terrible,” Remus chimed in. “So we figured we’d ask you.”

Janus tilted his head, considering. “Alright,” he said at last.

“Seriously?”

Janus smiled, and spread his gloved handswide. “Who am I to get in the way of true love?”

“Well, great.” Roman was suddenly transported to a reality where Remus’s plans worked. It was not a pleasant experience. “Uh, so how’s ten dollars sound?”

Janus gasped, and placed a hand on his heart. “Roman. Are you suggested that I take a fine young man like Virgil on a date that’s worth ten dollars?”

Roman gritted his teeth. “Well, what do you want?”

“Well, let’s see,” Janus mused. “Say we go to the cinema. The tickets cost, what, fifteen dollars? And then, of course, I’ll be buying him popcorn. And then there’s the price of gas…”

“How much?”

Janus smiled. “Let’s say $75.”

Roman balked. “No way.”

Janus shrugged. “All right then. Plenty of fish in the sea, after all.”

He turned his attention back to his book, though Roman got the sense he was still watching them.

“Roman,” Remus hissed.

Roman glared. “I can’t afford seventy five dollars a date.”

“It only needs to be a couple of times,” Remus pointed out.

Roman groaned. “Fine,” he spat, and Janus looked up from his book and smiled. “But I don’t pay you until after the date.”

“Half up front, half after,” Janus said. “Otherwise there’s no deal.”

Roman considered. He didn’t seem to have much of a choice. “I’ll pay the first half once Virgil agrees to it.”

Janus nodded. “Deal.” He reached out a hand, and Roman shook it. “A pleasure doing business with you, Mr Prince. Now, if you excuse me, it appears I have a boy to seduce.”

Janus pushed away from the table, picked up his book – Kant, something he’d read before but which gave him the opportunity to watch the cafeteria without anyone noticing - and swept out of the room.

People scurried out of his way as he walked through the hallways, but their whispers and dirty looks trailed after him. He was not well liked in this school, and he knew it – had known for a long time that he would never be liked, and so he had become something else.

Janus Verona did not need to be liked to be powerful.

He arrived at his destination- a corridor that contained only a set of toilets, a supply closet, and a side door that led to a set of steps down to the parking lot, hidden behind rows of cars. For years, it had made the best spot for smoking without getting caught.

Virgil Foster did not smoke, but he did hang around with people who did.

Janus leaned against the wall of the corridor and opened his book again, pretending to read but really watching Virgil through the window in the door. He was sat on the top step with his head phones on, but he was watching the other boys, even though presumably he couldn’t hear the conversation. At the bottom of the steps Luc Edwards stood, waving his eyes as he spoke. The other boys alternated between listening to him and paying him no attention.

The group was a scattering of losers and outcasts, the kind that banded together not through any shared friendship, or even through liking each other. They were there because there was safety in numbers and nowhere else to go.

In another life, Janus might have been one of them, keeping his head turned away so no one saw his scar.

In this life, the bell rang, and the group outside got up, and started heading to class. Most of them barely glanced at Janus as they passed, safe in being too low in the hierarchy to be bothered. Luc Edwards shoulder checked him as he walked past.

Janus narrowed his eyes at Luc, but before he could do anything, Virgil came inside, his head down, hood pulled up. Janus pushed off the wall, and fell into step with him. Virgil glanced over at the movement in the corner of his eye, then did a double take when he realised who was next to him.

“What?” Virgil asked gruffly, pushing one headphone away from his ear.

“Janus Verona,” he introduced, holding out one hand. Virgil looked at it suspiciously, but didn’t say anything.

“We have English together,” Janus explained. “Why not walk together?”

Virgil shook his head. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t?” Janus asked.

“I can think of a few,” Virgil snapped, and sped up.

Truly, it was shocking that Roman and Remus had been so unsuccessful.

Virgil was already in his seat by the time Janus entered the classroom. He didn’t look up as Janus sat down, didn’t even glance in his direction, which meant he was putting in the effort to seem as uninviting as possible.

The teacher- Mr Williams- began his lesson as the last stragglers had taken their seats, introducing the Shakespeare module they were about to begin and handing out copies of The Taming of The Shrew. Janus payed attention only enough to know what was happening. Nothing interesting would be in this lesson, and he wanted a chance to review what he already knew about Virgil.

He’d never had much to do with Virgil, before. Virgil had been in the year below, and even if their paths had crossed, Janus had never had much reason to pay attention to the emo boy at the back of the class.

He knew that Virgil had a younger brother, Patton, and that their parents were divorced. He knew that, if Luc Edwards was anything to go by, he had terrible taste in friends.

He was also, Janus noticed when he snuck glances at Virgil, not bad looking.

“Before we get started,” Mr Williams said, “Why doesn’t everyone share their thoughts on Shakespeare’s works?”

Janus rolled his eyes at the pointless attempt to make the lesson interactive.

Mr Williams made a show of scanning the class. “Virgil Foster,” he said, announcing both names as if there was another Virgil in the school, let alone the class. “What are your thoughts?”

And that was one other thing Janus knew about Virgil: Mr Williams hated him.

Janus didn’t know whether Mr Williams had convinced himself that he was helping to bring a shy boy out of his shell, or if he admitted that he just wanted to torment someone and went for the weakest option. Janus hoped it was the latter, because it would take a lot of denial to believe that calling on him every lesson was a good thing. Either Virgil would stammer out an answer, face pale and voice shaky, or he would say nothing, and Mr Williams would tell him to pay more attention and threaten him with detention.

It made Janus’s fists clench, that a man would go through such efforts to feel like he had power over someone he already had power over.

Still, it gave Janus a chance to look at Virgil, shoulders hunched and head down.

“He’s fine,” Virgil muttered.

“Fine?” Mr Williams echoed. “William Shakespeare, the greatest poet in the English language, is fine.” A smattering of giggles, not because Mr Williams was right, but because there was someone for the class to laugh at. Virgil’s shoulders tightened. “I’m sure you can come up with something better than that.”

Virgil said nothing.

Mr Williams sighed dramatically. “We don’t have all day,” he said. “Really, you must have some original thoughts in that head.”

Virgil lifted his head, glaring fire at the teacher. “I think people should stop putting him on a pedestal,” he said. His voice was shaking but the foundation was steel. “I think there are a lot of aspects of his works that people don’t talk about.”

“Care to give an example?” Mr Williams asked.

Virgil tapped the book in front of him. “Guy abuses his wife for the whole play and he’s supposed to be the hero?”

Mr Williams hummed. “Thank you for your feedback, Virgil. I’m sure Shakespeare would be devastated to know you don’t approve of the play he wrote in the sixteenth century.”

Laughter from the class. Virgil flushed and ducked his head, shoulders tense, fists clenched.

It was obvious Virgil hated Mr Williams, but he had never done anything about it before. Somehow, the boy in the back of the class had managed to surprise Janus Verona.

Virgil stayed with his head down until the bell rang, when he was the first to dash out of the classroom, stuffing his books back into his bag as he went. Janus didn’t bother trying to catch up.

He sent a text to Roman as he walked through the halls, asking for more information on Virgil. The first response came back almost instantly, asking how Janus had his number. He ignored it, and pulled up Google while he waited for Roman to get back with something useful. Excitement rushed through him as he typed, the kind that always came in these early stages of a plan.

Virgil was more than he seemed, which meant that this was going to be interesting.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #anxceit #royality #intrulogical #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #my fic #ten things

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natreviewsbooks · 3 years

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Fat Chance, Charlie Vega FCCV Book Tour

I’m ecstatic to talk about this next book, because I’ve been waiting for its release since early last fall. For a lot of people, it’s rare to find a book that ticks off so many boxes in terms of rep. For me, it was near all. Brown skinned, fat, and nerdy protagonist who loves to write, and is struggling with some self confidence issues? Let me just say that after finishing this book, I feel so seen, and am so honored that Turn the Page Tours selected me as a host to review this amazing title. This book is such a gentle yet fierce breath of fresh air that I think will resonate with many. I loved this book from start to finish, and found myself in tears at how visible I felt after reading this book. Crystal manages to make this connection with the reader that goes beyond superficial. It’s a story that you read and go “She’s telling MY story”. You’re going to want to add this book to your TBR.

Before I get too far into my love for this book, let’s talk about what it’s about! Make sure to stick around until the end, because I’ve got a giveaway for you to enter!

Synopsis:

Coming of age as a Fat brown girl in a white Connecticut suburb is hard.

Harder when your whole life is on fire, though.

Charlie Vega is a lot of things. Smart. Funny. Artistic. Ambitious. Fat.

People sometimes have a problem with that last one. Especially her mom. Charlie wants a good relationship with her body, but it’s hard, and her mom leaving a billion weight loss shakes on her dresser doesn’t help. The world and everyone in it have ideas about what she should look like: thinner, lighter, slimmer-faced, straighter-haired. Be smaller. Be whiter. Be quieter.

But there’s one person who’s always in Charlie’s corner: her best friend Amelia. Slim. Popular. Athletic. Totally dope. So when Charlie starts a tentative relationship with cute classmate Brian, the first worthwhile guy to notice her, everything is perfect until she learns one thing–he asked Amelia out first. So is she his second choice or what? Does he even really see her? UGHHH. Everything is now officially a MESS.

A sensitive, funny, and painful coming-of-age story with a wry voice and tons of chisme, Fat Chance, Charlie Vega tackles our relationships to our parents, our bodies, our cultures, and ourselves.

Review:

I tend to be pretty easy to please when it comes to enjoying books. However, getting to where I cry for a book is pretty rare. From the beginning of this book, I felt connected to Charlie in a way that I’d never connected to a character in a book before. She’s a young woman who’s full of life, but filled with reservations about herself, and compares herself to others, especially her best friend Amelia. I won’t lie, that last bit in itself was hard for me to read. Because it was like looking into a mirror of what high school was like for me. I was/am the fat best friend. Her relationship with her mom is good, but strained when it comes to talking about weight. Her mom can’t accept the fact that Charlie can be happy being the size that she is.

The more you read, the more you get sucked into this story, and the more you become invested into the characters. I think all readers will love the dynamic that Charlie and Amelia share, and at the same time, want to give Charlie a hug as she navigates the incredibly cruel realities that sometimes happen in high school. Charlie’s biggest insecurity is being compared Amelia, but it’s enhanced even more when it comes to romantic relationships. Her biggest hang-up is not being the second choice to someone. Enter Brian. Brian is awesome. He’s such a sensitive guy, and I loved seeing him interact with Charlie. I can’t wait to see fan art of these two together.

I’m going to try not to write an essay, but seriously, you should pick this book up. It’s not too fast paced, and there’s a lot to unpack (and I won’t discuss it all here, even more reason for you to get it ;)) in terms of self-confidence, racial identity, and more. One of the more interesting aspects of this book were the discussions of Charlie’s Puerto Rican heritage and not feeling connected to it as she doesn’t speak Spanish, but also not presenting as “white” enough to be accepted by her peers. This book is introspective and I was HERE for it. I beg of you, if you choose to read something this year for good representation AND diverse representation, this is it. For me this is a 5/5 read and I encourage EVERYONE to have it on their TBR list.

Book information:

Book Title: Fat Chance, Charlie Vega

Author: Crystal Maldonado

Publisher: Holiday House

Release Date: February 2, 2021

Genres: Young Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53399306-fat-chance-charlie-vega

Book Purchase link:

https://holidayhouse.com/book/fat-chance-charlie-vega/

Author Bio:

Crystal Maldonado is a young adult author with a lot of feelings. Her debut novel, FAT CHANCE, CHARLIE VEGA (Holiday House), will be released on Feb. 2, 2021.

By day, she is a social media manager working in higher ed, and by night, a writer who loves Beyoncé, shopping, the internet, and being extra.

She lives in western Massachusetts with her husband, daughter, and dog.

Author Links:

https://www.crystalwrote.com/

https://www.instagram.com/crystalwrote/

https://twitter.com/crystalwrote

https://www.facebook.com/crystalwrote

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19798656.Crystal_Maldonado

GIVEAWAY:

Enter to win one (1) finished copy of Fat Chance, Charlie Vega by Crystal Maldonado! Open USA only. There will be 1 winner.

Giveaway starts: Monday, February 8, 2021

Giveaway ends: Monday, February 15, 2021 at 12:00 a.m. CST

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Direct link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/1e4a114d21/?

#booktour bookreview book review reviewer TTPT turnthepagetours FCCV fatchancecharlievega reading booklove

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crimefightingspiderguy · 4 years

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love bug

Part III to the series, i want you to want me.

Summary: An introduction to Peter and (Y/N)’s school life.

Warnings: I guess spoilers for Spider-Man: Homecoming? But if you haven’t seen that yet, get to it hop along.

Pairings: Peter Parker x best friend!reader

Word count: 1,735

A/N: Hope y’all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The next morning you met Peter at the bus stop in between both of your apartments, like you’ve done everyday since your guardians trusted you to go to school without them. You carried the Mantecados, which were still fresh smelling and making your mouth water. Peter carried the poster board, having taken it back to his place to study his part of the public speaking portion of the project.

“Hey there loser” You smiled as you approached Peter. He returned your smile quickly and looked back at his phone, texting away. “Hey, who you texting this early in the morning?”

“I’m trying to get ahold of Happy, Mr. Starks head of security. I wanna see if they have another assignment for me.”

“Already? I mean you did JUST get back from freaking Germany, fighting THE Captain America, might I remind you. I don’t think that the Avengers are working round the clock now that they’re broken up. Give it time Pete, he’ll get back to you.” You gave him a reassuring smile and side hug. You knew that Mr. Stark probably wouldn’t get in touch with Peter again for a minute, but Peter didn’t seem to want to accept that. He’d gotten a taste of that higher status as a superhero, and he probably wouldn’t let it go for a while. The two of you got on the bus when it arrived shortly after, and began rehearsing for your presentation.

When you were dropped off at the nearest station, the two of you cut across the football field. Once in front of the school, you were greeted by Flash yelling “Sup, Penis Parker!” You flipped Flash off, and he quickly shut up and kept driving. He knew not to call you names because the last time he tried, you punched him in the throat. You didn’t do serious damage to him, just a sore throat for a couple minutes, but it gave him the message not to mess with you. You offered to do the same when he picks on Peter next, but he said that probably wouldn’t help his case if someone else fought his battles for him. When you got into the school you were about to say bye to Peter, you wanted to drop the Mantecados off to your Spanish class before you ate them all in between classes, or they fell out of your locker and went to waste. However, your bye was cut off by him staring off in the distance. You turned around to see what caught his eye, and you saw her. Liz, the upperclassmen who’d caught Peter’s eye as soon as the two of you had joined the academic decathlon. You turn you head back to Peter, a smirk plastered as you playfully punch his arm,

“Earth to Peter.” He quickly shakes his head and chuckles to himself. “We’ll talk about this,” You motioned between Peter and where Liz previously was, “later, I’ve gotta go drop these off before I literally drop them.” You held out your hand to do your signature hand shake with Peter, and made your way to class.

The presentation went better than expected, and the Mantecados were an absolute hit. You were still running on the adrenaline of doing such a great job, that you were practically jumping up and down as you waited in line for lunch. You joined Peter who’d beaten you to the cafeteria, at your usual seats in the back of the room, just the two of you and a couple seats down MJ. He was staring off again, a love-struck look on his face, and before even following his eyes you knew it was Liz.

“Did Liz get a new top?” He mumbled, almost to himself.

“I don’t know Peter, why don’t you go ask her?” You smile smugly. “You should probably stop staring before it gets creepy though.” You whisper the advice, but MJ still heard.

“Too late. You’re a loser.”

Peter looked at her confused and offended,

“Then why do you sit with us?” he asked her.

“Because I don’t have any friends.” MJ retorted, and looked back at her book.

“Anyway… Peter, just go up and talk to her. She’s actually really sweet and I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to ask her to at least help you study for the academic decathlon. Then boom, before you know it, you’re in!” You grinned and gave him two thumbs up, trying to encourage him. He just chuckled and shook his head, continuing to eat his tater tots.

After school ended, you and Peter went to practice for the academic decathlon. You, MJ, a kid in your grade - Ned, and Flash were being asked questions by Liz. Peter sat out and began talking with Mr. Harrington. You weren’t sure what they were talking about, but suddenly Flash yelled across the room,

“You’ve never even been in the same room as Tony Stark.” Your eyes widened, and you began to shake your leg, something that happened every time you got nervous.

“What’s happening?” One of the girls studying asked

“Peter’s not going to Washington” Another one responded, who had been clearly eavesdropping.

“Really? Right before nationals?” Liz asked him. You gave Peter a wide-eyed look, this had been the first you’ve heard of him considering dropping out of the competition.

“He’s already quit marching band and robotics lab.” MJ chimed in, everyone on the team turned their heads towards her and gave her a questioning look, which she quickly responded with “I’m not obsessed with him, just observant.”

“Flash, you’re in for Peter.” Liz said, quickly bringing the attention back to practice.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve got a hot date with Black Widow, I might have to check my calendar.” Flash said, poking fun at Peter. You rolled your eyes at him, and tried to focus back on your practice.

As soon as practice was over, you and Peter made your way to the bus stop.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dropping out of the finals?” You asked Peter as you waited for the next bus.

“I wasn’t really planning on it, until we got to practice and I realized that it wouldn’t be smart of me to go. What if Mr. Stark needs me, and I’m not there?”

“Peter, we’ve been over this. I don’t think Mr. Stark will have any assignments for you this soon. Even the Avengers have to take a break at some point.”

“But what if Captain America comes back? What if he finally comes out of hiding and we have to chase him again? None of us know when that might be, so I have to be ready.”

“But that’s the point Peter! No one knows, so you can’t put your life on pause, thinking that it might be within the next hour.” You were trying to reason with him, because you were worried about him. You didn’t want him to throw his current life away for some dream that might have only been a one time thing.

“I can’t think like that (Y/N), I have to be ready for anything. Mr. Stark might need me, so I’m staying here.” Peter’s tone ended the conversation, and he quickly turned away from you to get on the bus.

You were heading to Mr. Delmore’s convince store/deli to get after school sandwiches which had been a tradition, every Monday, since high school started. When you got there, the two of you got the usuals, and headed over to the abandoned building next door, climbing up the fire escape to sit on the roof and enjoy your subs.

“So, enough decathlon talk, I know that I can’t force you to go, so I won’t try. What’s your worst fear?” This was another tradition. Once sat down and eating, one of you would come up with a random question that you had yet to know about the other. It kept the conversations interesting, and helped to strengthen your friendship, but overall, it was just fun compared to the boring “so this weather we’re having…” conversations. It was a sort of “penny for your thoughts” type of game.

“Wow, (Y/N), I think that’s the deepest question yet. What did I ask last week? “What do you think life would be like with one giant toe rather than 5 small ones?”. You really know how to outshine me.” He chuckled, and thought about that question.

“Mines the unknown.” You answered as he thought about his.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m a ball of anxiety and a hypochondriac, what do you think it means?” You laughed a little. “I fear not knowing what might happen next. I fear not knowing how the planet will die. I fear not knowing if I’ll ever be happy in life. I fear not knowing if I’ll ever be successful in my future endeavors. I fear not knowing if I’ll ever find love.”

Peter looked at you seriously, and grabbed your hand that wasn’t holding your sandwich. You both took bites and sat with your words for a moment.

“I think that’s something everyone fears. Not knowing, but that’s what makes life so great, is everything is unexpected.” Peter said. You nodded and smiled at him, squeezing his hand. You let it go and cleared you throat, taking another bite of your sandwich and then prompting him to answer the question.

“Losing you.” He mumbled. You almost choked on your sub, not sure if it was because you were shocked by his answer or you found it funny. Looking over at his face as he slowly ate his sandwich, you knew he was being fully serious.

“Why? If you lost me, you’d probably be sad for a month or two, then eventually move on. Why not your aunt May?”

“You seriously think I could lose you and just move on? Yeah I’d be devastated if I lost aunt May, of course I would. But I could honor her like I do with uncle Ben. I could keep her memory alive, and live how she would want me to. But I couldn’t live without you. Everything I do would remind me of you, and it would feel like a ghost was haunting me everywhere I went. I would go mad before I got over your death.”

You smiled down at the remainder of your sub.

Current Taglist: @popluckbih @yourbiggestspiderfan

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged throughout the series. I hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always welcome :)

Find more of my work here.

My work is exclusively posted on Tumblr by me, on this blog. If you see my work posted elsewhere, please reach out to me.

Thank you, xx.

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andsoshespins · 3 years

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Monday Musings

I had reservations about pairing brie with butternut squash to fill butter-brushed phyllo dough pockets I made. But I am glad I tried it! The sweetness of the squash compliments well, almost like fan-favorite jam and brie.

The whole wheat buttermilk pancakes I made might just be the best pancakes I have made thusfar in my kitchen. And, for some reason, they taste equally as good reheated.

Update: The whole wheat flour substitute for the chocolate chip cookies turned out fine after baking!

I might understand the Chris Evans thing a little better after watching Captain America: Civil War. That escape from the elevator shaft...hot damn.

Related: I know, I know, the insane scene wherein Cap tries to keep the helicopter from leaving is wild and hot but it’s too superhero-esque and leaves me worrying for the hero’s fastidiousness instead of drooling over the man.

Continuing: Oooof, everyone is right and everyone is wrong in that movie. And that’s what makes it so good. Ah, Greek tragedy dressed in spandex and metal, flaws thrown in sharp relief, conflicts of character and within character abound, eternal questions about freedom and governance.

Still related: I’ve only just met this Peter Parker, and I already love him. #queens

My Spanish lavender really is growing towards the sun. Not that I thought this was a myth of 7th grade science class, but I am amazed at how quickly the plant has stretched more horizontally towards the window! I guess I never had a plant long or healthy enough to witness it.

I am becoming weirdly obsessed with crossword puzzles. It’s a strange way for my mind to focus on one thing and feel motivation I am currently lacking.

Why is my body so creaky as of late? I have been working out every morning, stretching afterwards, and even doing my favorite yoga poses afterward.

My ankles are annoying me. Why do they decide to feel strange pain whenever I am in a good routine?

Today’s raindrops turned into fat flakes of wet snow for a while. It was nice to be inside.

I always think it is strange for a musical group or artist to release a Christmas album. But then I remember Relient K’s Deck the Halls, Bruise Your Hand, and I instantly retract my statement because it is still boss many years later. Actually, their version of “12 Days of Christmas” is the only one I can enjoy.

Related: Spotify informed me that this original album was absorbed into another entertainingly-titled Let it Snow Baby...Let it Reindeer.

Still related: It was a while before I learned these guys were considered Christian rock. (Or Christian pop-punk?) It still cracks me up.

I fucking love flashbacks. It doesn’t matter the show or the movie, it’s a sucker-punch to my gut.

Not knowing yet whether we return in-person or work remotely tomorrow is equally freeing and frustrating.

#monday musings #miscellaneous musings

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ohpretty-baby · 4 years

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bts as my sophomore class teachers

a thread because i miss my teachers lowkey

anyways enjoy <3

first hour: ap seminar with kim namjoon

super philosophical

is a fanboy for rosseau, calls him the original gangster

intimidatingly intelligent; like reads 3 books in one day and writes two papers on them intelligent

constantly connecting foundational thinkers/texts to real life situations (ex: echo and narcissus and selfies in social media)

makes you feel like a bad person by questioning your moral motives

there’s never a dull day in his class

seriously

one time we spent the hour evaluating billie eilish’s bad boy and that one “sweet but psycho” song and talked about double consciousness

the next day we did a full 180 and talked about mass burials

then we talked about the refugee crisis the day after that

extremely thought provoking conversations

gives you independence, which is a double edged sword because everyone in ap sem procrastinates

wants students to exceed not only in his class but also outside of school

my irl ap sem teacher helped me figure out that i wanted to go into a career of law !

also an extensive librarian (hence the ability to read 3 books in one day)

if you have the slight interest in something, he has a book for it

i literally have 8 books checked out from my school library because of him

gives you complete and honest ratings of r rated movies and posts them on your schoology board

not afraid to be scandalous

“now everyone say it with me: premarital sex!”

that was something my irl teacher said, that day we shouted out premarital sex about 15 times with the door wide open

amazing music taste

literally

he listens to anything and everything, from french rap to spanish pop and then english folk songs

will dj for your graduation party for free

second hour: honors english with min yoongi

insanely calm, probably just very sleepy

easy going, chill

you really don’t feel pressured in his class

people goof off in class and are generally very annoying, but he doesn’t care

occasionally lectures students if he really needs to

communicates what we have to do and then lets us do the work

lets us fail if we’re not responsible

but will understand if you can’t turn in a project if life gets in the way

i still have a project i need to turn in oops-

i haven’t received any negative repercussions tho

lets kids eat in his class and lets them go to the vending machine if they have no food

i go to my locker every morning to get food to eat

eats with us

lets you use your phone and watch netflix

will even ask you what show you’re watching and if it’s good

actually a really good teacher if you pay attention in his class

kids just think they can slack off, they end up failing tho so it’s really none of his issues

for some reason he’s a substitute teacher for a lot of classes

when he subs, the classes are extremely fun

one time i spent my whole sixth hour talking to him about my costar and astrology

goofs off with the kids

that same day he subbed, my friends were making panoramas of each other and he rated all of them

isn’t strict

cares about his students and is very easy to talk to

because of this a lot of students open up to him

isn’t a snitch

would willingly make fun of classic literature with you

third hour: honors chemistry with kim taehyung

Super Sassy

always gets the last word when students mess around with him

“what’s your favorite double replacement reaction?”

“my favorite ones are the ones you guys get right; so none”

as you can guess, students love having conversation with him

probably has a dope ass instagram but damnit he won’t let accept anyone’s follow requests

probably because that’s illegal

constant Bad BItch energy

will openly tell students they are annoying without shame

will also openly tell you that you are dumb

once i thought that we had four principals (one for each grade, don’t question it) and my irl teacher was speechless,, like she couldn’t actually say anything at my stupidity

i would willingly sell my soul for my chemistry teacher

always has labs to do, even if they’re not very helpful at times

lets students retake tests by creating a new test

but they’re actually harder than the actual test

students skip their own classes to visit him

i always skip my 6th hour to go into the chemistry

constantly has to chase away students

actually very sweet and cares about students, but is never really a push over

again, a constant Bad Bitch

fourth hour: honors spanish with kim seokjin

an even Bigger Bad Bitch

super fun and sassy

fiestas!!!!!!!

we have fiestas but literally the only Spanish thing we have is chips and salsa and tacos

i’m not kidding

people just bring in cake pops and brownies

will sometimes teach a whole lesson in Spanish just to fuck with us

will also try to hold a conversation with us in Spanish just to fuck with us even more

loves seeing our shocked and confused faces when can’t answer his questions

actually teaches us

gives a lot of busy work but i honestly think that’s the better ways of learning and practicing Spanish, so there’s no complaints

engaging lessons, encourages us to make mistakes so we can be comfortable with the language

veryyyy helpful with pronunciation, makes sure that we know how to pronounce certain words

super trustworthy

once after school i spilled tea with my irl spanish teacher about a messy breakup i had gone thru, it was real fun

we have a theory that one of the senior teachers has a crush on her because he always visits her when he comes to our class

really good teacher but heavily overestimates our ability

especially when it comes to tests

but will admit his wrongs when we don’t do well in class

literally the best friend you wish you had

fifth hour: ap world with jeon jungkook

literally really pretty

really funny and sweet but his class is hard

not because of the extensive work and the fast pace, but because he doesn’t prepare students enough for saqs, dbqs, leqs, etc.

we still love our ap world teacher bc she genuinely cares about us

teaches an ap class but has never taken an ap class in high school

still teaches even tho he’s sick and his own students have asked him to stay at home so he can feel better

really fun discussion activities, like fishbowls

always drinking tea with a cool ass mug that has all the presidents of the united states on it

wears really cute clothes and coordinates colors

but sometimes will just pull up in pajamas

either way he’s Stylin

makes sure that students know that he doesn’t believe in racism and communism

always tells his students to take care when they say goodbye

draws LOTS of smiley faces

sometimes more confused about the content then the students are

but genuinely kind and hard working, even if it takes him 3 months to grade papers

sixth hour: theology with jung hoseok

confusing lectures

will talk about persecution in rome and then switch the topic onto blts (yes, the sandwich) and then talk about male circumcision

really goofy

deaf

talks very loudly because he takes his hearing aid out during lessons

honestly a really confusing teacher

a lot of people don’t like his teaching style, and neither do i, but it’s not a hard class so there’s really nothing to complain about

you really just need to read the slides in his class to pass

gives out homework but never grades it

i never turn in homework,,,

i get a’s on his test and he just gives good grades for every homework assignment

honestly just really sweet and funny even when he tries not to

talks with his hands way too much

will take selfies with you if you let him

constantly asking for validation from his students

“is my teaching style ok? i know it can be confusing but i really try with making lectures funny so you guys won’t be bored”

can sometimes be annoying but everyone loves him because he just doesn’t make sense

literally the best class to do other homework in

sees students as his friends

once we had a public discussion online about our concerns of the coronavirus instead of actually learning about theology

i said that i was worried that i’d die of the coronavirus before i got a boyfriend

he replied to my comment saying “1. you are killing me ! :) 2. i’m sure that you have a lot of secret admirers, so the boyfriend thing is covered, they just need to figure things out. remember maturity happens at different stages for everyone.”

even though i don’t like his class at times, i know i’m gonna miss how crazy he is

seventh hour: honors geometry with park jimin

Sweetest, Softest, Most Pure of all

gives out candy during tests

but not just any candy

the really good strawberry candies that grandmas always have and never run out of

sometimes the lessons go by too fast but yet too slow at the same time

a Literal Grandpa

doesn’t let kids say “shut up” or “dumb” in his class

claims that he doesn’t even say “shut up” to his own kids

always reminds kids that this is a No Judgement Zone

rewards students who answer challenging questions with little stand-up signs that say “Expert at Work” or “Rockstar” that they can put on their desk

will buy or make little stockings that spell out the initials of the high school

brags about his kohl’s cash

once bought a $50 scooter for only $5 dollars because of his kohl’s cash

stays after school for two hours to reteach lessons to students

takes little strolls around the school building with his friends during lunch

Mental Math Mondays

mondays are when we play mental math card games with the whole class

lets kids make their own card games

will ask if you’re okay if you look sad

will also ask if you’re okay if you look sleepy

asks kids to be patient with him when they have a confusing lesson to teach

wIll thoroughly explain everything to the best of his ability

definitely has never done anything wrong

this made me genuinely miss my teachers even though i hate school with my whole entire heart, soul, and mind! anyways love u guys

#thread #appreciation #bts #bts taehyung #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts yoongi #bts hoseok #bts jungkook #bts jimin #bangtan #bts thread #bts as teachers #bts appreciation

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