#and then sitting back down next to a overpriced statue that I own related to the character from the other fandom that I have a psychotic

[skinnypaleangryperson]

Being in the same two fandoms for 4 years is the most humbling experience with human nature I've ever experienced

[goingmerryied]

The Pirate Who Loved Me ~ Chapter 2

(18+ Only)

Masterlist

Bridgerton kind of meets One Piece in this.

Summary: (Y/N) grew up in a noble home and island. Her family were members of high class, and were invited to lavish parties thrown by the highest members of society. Although she was raised to be a proper woman, she always longed for something more in life. At the age of 18, she is now ready to enter the social season and her father is to find her a suitable husband much to her dismay.

That same season, a group of rookie pirates in a submarine land on the noble island to secure funds and supplies for their next adventure.

*3 years before Luffy sets out on his adventure*

Pairing: Trafalgar D. Law x reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ explicit sexual themes, Teasing, Dom Trafalgar D. Water Law, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Be Safe Out There), Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, Creampie, Pet Names, Overstimulation, Biting, Bruises, Hair-Pulling, Aftercare

I do not own the rights to Bridgerton and One Piece

_________________________________________________

It was tradition for Outlook III and Didit to host the first ball of the season. That was how Sabo and I met, our parents kept us upstairs as they partied the night away with the other nobles who were finding suitors for their daughters.

It pains me to be back here knowing all the times I shared with my brother Sabo. How we would sit at the top of the staircase and make fun of the weirdly dressed party guests. My parents escorted me in and were on either side of me eyeing the crowd for any good suitors. I on the other hand was eyeing the refreshment table ready to drink as much as I could to drown my thoughts for the night.

"Right there is Lord Andrews, he owns about 20 acres of land, is very wealthy, and can provide you with an excellent future," says my mother. I look over at him and he is handsome, there's no doubt about that.

"Lord and Lady (L/N), it's a pleasure for you to join us. Oh and dear (Y/N) how much you've grown. If only our son had stood by our side as you did with your parents, he could've been a possible caller for you" said Outlook III. My fists clench and I muster up a thank you, your grace. It's disgusting how they speak ill of their deceased son, my friend, my brother. Sabo was never a son to him much like I'm not a daughter to my parents. We are just an object that must carry out the family name, and live in small talk and business deals. A never-ending path with no fun, no adventure. Is this the route I wanted to stay in? It's not like I had a choice in the matter and even if I decided to run away again, my father would find me regardless and then have Ace suffer to torment me. I could never live with myself if I were to let that happen.

"Please excuse me, I need to run to the wash room." I say as I make my way past Outlook III and Didit, not caring of my parents rule of staying next to them. I ran upstairs to his room and ensured my parents were watching my every move that way they knew I was still in the building. They didn't know it wasn't a washroom. I knew Sabo wouldn't be there but I needed something to feel as if he were there. When I entered the bedroom, it had been completely flipped. The silk blue bed sheets were now red, the walls that were covered in our drawings were replaced with overpriced paintings of flowers, and the corner where we would plan out our future adventures was now covered by a new rug that went with the design of the room.

I sank down to my knees and began to let the tears slip down my face. It was gone, everything that was related to him was gone. It was as if he were never here to begin with, his parents. His own parents scrubbed him from their lives for good just to save face. I'm sick, sick of it all. When will this world change, when will we stop being so cruel to one another based on status. What's the point of it all?

"What's the Queen's diamond doing in a room crying by herself?" I turn around and see Law standing in the corner of the room with a bag in his hand.

"What are you doing here, and why do you have a-" I slowly realize that he's burglarizing the place.

"Look it's not what you think?" He says.

"I think it's clear what I think. You are obviously not a part of the royal staff, and are obviously stealing from this family. However I could care less, they don't deserve what they have."

"You don't care that I'm robbing from your people?" He responds.

"These are not my people, these are people I was forced to accompany myself with. I had no choice." I say as I begin to wipe away any makeup that was smudged.

"Everyone has a choice."

"That's easy for you to say, your a man Law. You have the freedom to do as you please, but I do not."

"Last time I checked, genders didn't matter when it came to freedom."

"In Goa it does. I was damned as soon as I was born here. Damned because I was born as a woman, damned to be raised as a wife, damned to marry a stranger and damned to live out the rest of my life trapped here." The tears begin to fall once more and Law takes a few steps forward and sits next to me. I laugh and he looks at me curiously.

"You know Law, if anyone were to see me in here with you unchaperoned, it would cause a major scandal for my family." He begins to laugh with me.

"It may even be a bigger scandal for you if they were to find out I was a pirate." He looks at me with a bit of hesitation with his eye. I laugh but realize he's not.

"Are you seriously a pirate? You're not dressed like one." I say as I take in his dress. He's wearing an all black suit with a red tie, his shoes are glistening in the moonlight and he seems to have done a better job at covering his tattoos.

"Yes, sorry if that freaks you out."

"No not at all, can you tell me more about it?"

"You want to know more?

"Yes, my brothers and I used to talk about becoming pirates one day. One of them was actually successful in doing so. It must be amazing to travel as you please, spend time out in the open water and-"

"Be chased by the Navy here and there. It is fun though, I have a fantastic crew by my side. You actually already met two of them."

"Let me guess, the perv with the bloody nose and the one named Penguin."

"Yes that's them, the perv, Shachi, isn't that bad once you get to know him. Penguin too. They along with Bepo were my first few crewmembers."

"That's amazing, how long have you all been sailing?"

"For about five years, and we've barely made a name for ourselves. Hence why we're here acting as thieves."

"Wait they're here at the ball too?"

"Not Bepo, a talking polar bear would attract way too much attention. He's taking care of our submarine right now"

"A WHAT?!"

"Nevermind that, but Penguin and Shachi are here. You're not going to tell on us are you."

"Like I said, I could care less what you do with these monster's belongings."

"Did they do something to you?"

"Indirectly, I used to be best friends with their son Sabo. He was like a brother to me, we would talk about going out to sea and be pirates of our own ship. However, something terrible happened, he decided to leave before us and stole his father's fishing boat on the day a celestial dragon would visit. The celestial dragon saw him as threat and- and killed him. Now they act as if he doesn't even exist. This was his room and now it's not." Law places a hand on my back and begins to rub it, trying to soothe my crying. I leaned into him more, and my breathing began to calm down. We stayed like this for a while and it was comforting. The darkness and the silence was comfortable with Law by my side.

"I'm sorry about your brother." He said. "I lost my sister when I was young too."

I looked up at him, his once dull eyes were now filled with pain. As I was going to ask about his sister I heard my name being called. My mother was on the second floor calling out to me, I must have taken too long.

"Law if she catches us,"

"Don't worry, I can get out of here quick. See you around Diamond. "Room." A blue sphere begins to swirl around him. "Shambles" and he was gone. He has some explaining to do about that power. I wiped off any remaining makeup smudges that were left by my tears as I began to walk towards the door only to have my mother open it almost immediately.

"(Y/N) this is not a washroom!"

"Sorry mother, I got lost with all the rooms here."

"Very well then, Lord Andrews is waiting for a dance." I internally groan as mother escorts me out of the room.

"We make our way downstairs where my father and Lord Andrews is waiting for us. "Ms. (L/N) would you care to accompany me to a dance." My father eyes me and I simply smile and nodding to him.

As we begin on the dance floor, I can't help but think about Law. He said he had lost someone too, his sister. What about the rest of his family? We were in that room all alone, had anyone walked in on us, Ace and I would be done for. However, he was able to magically teleport out of it. Strange but interesting. Everything about Law was interesting, he was a pirate, he could use a power, he was mysterious yet kind.

"Ms. (L/N)" Lord Andrews says. I completely forgot I was dancing with him.

"I'm sorry."

"Your mind seems to be elsewhere. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything is splendid. I'm enjoying my time with you." A lie.

"Very well. I was thinking if you and your parents do not have plans, would you and your family care to join us for dinner?" He asks.

"Oh I would need to ask my father for permission. He usually will-"

"I've already asked him, I just wanted to ensure that you would like to as well." He's considering me in this decision.

"What my father says goes." I say and he smiles. The song comes to an end and we bow to one another.

"Very well then, we shall be expecting you all at dinner tomorrow." I smile and nod to him as I make my way to my parents.

"We're having dinner at the Andrews estate tomorrow. Right father?"

"That is correct, I believe that Lord Andrews would make a fine suitor for you."

Of course you do I thought.

"Well then, we shall be taking our leave, we are expecting callers to show up however, it seems that you have made up your mind, my dear."

"More like you've made it for me." My mother grabs my arm.

"Dearest, we have secured you an excellent match with Lord Andrews, do not ruin this."

"Of course mother." We make our way to the carriage and head home for the night.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @withtheredlights!

I had a good time writing this, and I hope it’s enjoyed. Happy Holidays!

Summary:  Stiles’s magic has been restless under his skin all morning. Usually, that means something big is about to happen, but Stiles hopes it happens after the boring lawyer meeting he’s being forced to attend.

(or, Stiles meets Derek and it’s love at first sight)

Read on AO3

*****

This Magic Moment

Stiles's magic has been restless under his skin all morning. Usually, that means something big is about to happen, but Stiles hopes it happens afterthe boring lawyer meeting he's being forced to attend.

Apparently, there's a mixup with his official emissary paperwork, and he needs an actual attorney to untangle it.

He would let Lydia handle it, but she swore up and down he had to do this one himself. He didn't quite understand the explanation, any more than he understands what's the problem itself, just that when he tried to apply for workman's comp two days ago, he was denied on the basis of being employed by the Hale pack — a pack he's barely heard of — and not the McCall pack, the one he's been filling in for since Deaton got sick a year ago.

So, okay, apparently Scott never filed the paperwork when Stiles started filling in for Deaton. He doesn't see what the big deal is. Why can't Scott just do it now? Why does it require Stiles to go down to the city and see some overpriced lawyer?

The firm's building is slick, all glass and chrome, impersonal and too shiny. Does he have the right place? He checks in at the desk and yes, he's supposed to be there. Mr. Lauden is running late, though, and Stiles should have a seat in the plush waiting room.

It's not until he sits down (accidentally banging his arm cast on the chair as he does) that he realizes he's feeling suddenly at ease. His magic is practically purring. He frowns to himself and looks around, his eyes falling on the man seated across from him.

The man looks like a model. He's scowling at his phone, which does nothing to take away from his overall gorgeousness, and Stiles wonders what about him has his heart beating suddenly twice as fast as normal. It's not like Stiles has never seen a beautiful man before.

As if he's wondering the same question, the man looks up, nostrils flaring, and pins Stiles with an intense stare.

Stiles waves nervously. His good hand needed something to do. He waved. That's not too bad, right?

Now the man just looks confused. The little furrow between his eyebrows is adorable and Stiles wants to maybe smooth it with his thumb. He tries smiling, instead.

The man isn't looking away. Did Stiles mention how intense his eyes are? He can't tell what color they are at this distance but — whoa! The man's eyes flash red.

Stiles is staring an alpha werewolf in the eye and doesn't know what to do. He gulps audibly. The werewolf smiles.

Oh. Oh. That smile is devastating. Stiles couldn't look away at this point if his life depended on it. And it might!

What the hell is going on, Stiles wonders, but his magic is moving beneath his skin like it knows exactly what's up. Well, Stiles wishes it would tell him because he's completely clueless.

The alpha werewolf gets up, walks over, and sits next to him. His nostrils flare again. He's sniffing Stiles, and Stiles is so grateful he took a shower before heading into the city.

"How'd you do that?" the gorgeous alpha asks him, gesturing to the cast on Stiles's arm.

Stiles flushes. He's still embarrassed. "Fell off a roof."

"What were you doing on a roof?" the alpha asks him. "That's dangerous. You could've been killed."

"Warding a friend's house," Stiles says defensively, wondering where the hell this guy gets off acting like he cares what happens to him. It's weird.

The gorgeous alpha frowns. "You're a witch?"

"A spark, actually," Stiles says. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" His magic has been purring since the alpha sat next to him.

"I'm Derek," the man says, looking at him intently. He leans in, nostrils flaring again.

Stiles isn't sure if he's creeped out or flattered. Maybe both. "Dude. Are you smelling me?"

Derek leans back, an abashed look on his face. "I'm sorry. You just… I've never…" Instead of finishing the thought, he trails off. He looks frustrated.

"I'm a wannabe emissary, I've been around plenty of werewolves. I'm assuming this is some wolfy thing," Stiles says dryly.

This close, Stiles can see the color of Derek's eyes. Or rather the colors. They're beautiful, like everything else about him.

"Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale?" someone calls, and the moment is broken. They stand and follow the young assistant to Mr. Lauden's office, and Stiles is only a little confused why they're going together. The day keeps getting weirder and weirder.

Hale, Stiles thinks as he's seated in front of Mr. Lauden's desk. That's the name Lydia said when she tried to explain this mess. Not that Stiles understood at the time. He doesn't understand now, either.

He manages to bump his cast again on the arm of the chair when he sits, and this time he winces as a throb starts up around the broken bone.

Mr. Lauden clears his throat but Derek doesn't seem to be paying attention. He reaches out and brushes Stiles's fingers, the ones that are poking out of the cast. Derek's veins go dark gray as he pulls Stiles's pain.

Stiles relaxes in his chair, blinking at the alpha he only just met. "Thank you," he says gratefully, though he's never had someone drain his pain without asking before, no one but Scott, and not often at that.

"So you do know each other?" Mr. Lauden asks.

"No," Stiles says, his words tripping over Derek's.

"He's my mate," Derek says softly. At least that's what it sounds like. Stiles blinks at him and drops his jaw.

"I thought this was a case of accidental bonding?" Mr. Lauden says with a frown.

But Stiles is still staring at Derek. "What did you say?" then to Lauden, "Wait, what?"

Stiles's magic is rushing under his skin. Purring. Urging Stiles to move closer to Derek Hale, the man he only just met, the alpha werewolf who just maybe said they were mates. How is that possible? What is going on?

"As far as I can tell, there was a paperwork mixup about two years ago, and the two of you were put into a legal alpha/emissary bond," Mr. Lauden is saying. Derek nods. Stiles thinks this sounds like a simplified version of what Lydia tried to explain to him. The attorney goes on with, "But now you're telling me it wasn't accidental? Are you wasting my time, here?"

"No, it was definitely some kind of bureaucratic mixup," Derek says. "But when we met just now, I recognized him immediately." He looks at Stiles, a little shy now. "My wolf did."

Stiles realizes Derek's still touching his fingers, and where their skin is touching, Stiles's magic is very happy. Could it be true? Could they be mates?

"But mates are so rare," Stiles blurts out without pulling his hand away.

Derek smiles. "So are sparks."

"And so is the kind of mixup we're looking at here," Lauden says. "Apparently a clerk in the Beacon County Supernatural Relations office spilled something, made the paperwork stick together, passed it on to someone else… I'm not sure. But in the end, you were legally bonded, and because of the length of time that's passed, if you want to dissolve the bond you're looking at hundreds of billable hours and at least two appearances before a judge."

"I don't have an emissary," Derek says slowly. "But I do need one."

Lauden gives a hopeful smile. "Because of your apparent mate status, it might just be easier to see if you want to keep the bond…"

Stiles's magic is doing somersaults. He looks at Derek, his heart in his throat. Mates. "I need some time to get my head wrapped around this, I think." That little furrow between Derek's brows shows up again and Stiles immediately wants to smooth it away. "There's a coffee shop next door, I saw."

The furrow disappears as Derek gives him a smile that looks like a sunrise. Stiles smiles back helplessly.

Lauden huffs. "I see I'm not actually needed here. I'll send the bill to…?"

Derek nods at him, then turns back to Stiles. "I'll take care of it."

"I have money," Stiles says. He may not get paid well for filling in for Deaton, but he takes enough side jobs that he's comfortable.

Derek shrugs. "Let me pay the attorney's fee and I'll let you buy me a cappuccino."

"That's hardly the same," Stiles says wryly, but he really doesn't care. He just wants to sit down with Derek and learn everything he can about him.

"Is your arm feeling better?" Derek asks, and Stiles looks down at the cast. For a long moment, he'd forgotten about it.

"Much. Thank you," Stiles says, and watches as Derek reluctantly draws his hand away. Stiles's magic sulks.

"What's wrong?" Derek asks.

Stiles shakes his head, then holds out his good hand. "Hi. I'm Stiles Stilinski. It's good to meet you."

Derek looks surprised, then takes Stiles's hand in his own. He doesn't so much shake it as squeeze and caress it. "I'm Derek Hale. I've been waiting to meet you all my life."

Stiles feels his cheeks heat. He squeezes back. "Yeah. Um, let's get out of here, yeah?"

Derek turns to the attorney and smiles. "Thank you."

Lauden smiles at them both. "My pleasure."

Derek and Stiles walk out of his office hand in hand. Stiles doesn't care if they're headed to coffee or wherever, just as long as he gets to spend more time with Derek.

[fictionobsession]

Alone in a Crowded Room

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Genre: All Fluff! 

Words: 2086

Summary: Being alone isn’t lonely, but sometimes it’s better together.

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic, so it may be horrible and I’m definitely open to constructive criticisms and suggestions. It hasn’t really been edited oops sorry

“Have you ever felt alone in a room full of people?”

The question seemed to come from far away. You barely registered it at all. What a clichéd saying. Do people actually still ask that?

“Y/N? Hello? Are you in there?” Your friend’s hand waved in front of your face, bringing you out of your thoughts. You hummed in acknowledgment halfheartedly, though your friend is much too invested in her story to notice your indifference. She had been rambling on about her newest boy toy for the last hour and a half, but apparently the subject had required your input for something and you had to stop pretending to pay attention to actually answer. “I said, have you ever felt alone in a room full of people?”

You laughed a real genuine laugh, the sound of which was swallowed up by the live music playing in the other room. “Yeah, haven’t we all?” Your answer was vague, which was pretty typical, but apparently it satisfied her desire for your input for the moment. You fell easily back into your thoughts, only this time further answering her question to yourself. Alone in a crowd? I think it may be easier to ask how often I don’t feel alone in a crowd, really. You couldn’t remember a time in the past months, maybe years, when you hadn’t felt more comfortable in your apartment alone than in the presence of another human being. You had no idea what the relevance of the question was to the rest of your friend’s story, but you loathed that she had asked it. Any little thing could set your brain into motion, and that isn’t really where you liked your brain to be.

You had tried to deal with your loneliness in any way suggested to you by someone else, although more often than not it was to appease your friends’ need to see you no longer be the only single when everyone paired off at parties and other such gatherings. You’d tried everything from halfhearted relationships with boys whose names you’d later not even remember to long drunken nights on the town with your closest girls to studies overseas with complete strangers, just trying to find some connection with anyone that didn’t make you exhausted after an hour. All that had failed thus far, and you were losing the motivation to try. Your friends seemed convinced that you should continue to try, but you were happiest on your own, so that became the status quo.

Your friend seemed to be coming to the end of your discussion (albeit one-sided, as it were), so you started gathering your things and wiggling in the uncomfortable wing-backed chair as your signal you were ready to leave.

“I’m so glad you’re having a good time with this one, babe,” you say to her, remembering the last time she got sucked into a whirlwind romance that ended in her being ghosted after a week. You were expecting a similar outcome in this situation as well, despite listening to practically none of her description of the guy, and you found yourself thinking how nice it was to not have to worry about getting your heart broken. You would much rather deal with the fallout for her than have to handle your own.

“Anyway…” she started, “enough about mine, how’s your love life going, girlie?”

The question caught you off guard, and you groaned internally. You wished you could have been more discreet about your discomfort, but in your signature tactless way, you managed to squeak out “I have a lot of homework to do tonight really no time to discuss it sorry” as you moved yourself toward the door, feeling your cheeks redden.

“Alright, but don’t think you’re getting out of this conversation that easily!” she shouts as you make your way out of the overpriced coffee shop. Once in the open air away from the excessive number of other people and your friend’s unnecessary interrogation, you felt invigorated, and since you really did have work to do, you found yourself driving to your favorite bookstore where you knew it would be quiet.            The drive was exactly what you needed, with all of your favorite feel-good songs coming on the radio, leading you to getting out of your car still smiling and humming your favorite Disney tunes.

As you entered the bookstore, the first thing you noticed was the smell of your favorite tea wafting through the store from the little café in the back, which lifted your spirits even more. The second thing you noticed was that you had been correct in assuming it would be quiet, as the only other people you could see in the store were employees, most of whom you knew, milling about changing displays and straightening shelves.

“Y/N!” The owner called out, coming toward you with a huge smile plastered on his weathered face. “Great to see you! Just thought you’d want to know there’s a whole bunch of new books back next to the café. I’m a busy bee, but come find me if you need anything!” And with that, he had disappeared back into the stockroom to sort through the books.

You thanked him as he disappeared and wandered to the section you knew he was talking about. You had been looking for the newest installment of the Harley Quinn comics, and with the knowing look on his face, you assumed the owner had gotten it in. You found the shelf of new releases and set to searching. You became so caught up in your hunt that you didn’t notice the soft sound of someone approaching.

“Excuse me?”

The voice startled you, and you spun to see who it belonged to. A guy about your age was standing there with his hands in his pockets looking rather lost, and in your flustered state you found yourself at a loss for words.

“Excuse me, love,” he repeated, the pet name making your cheeks flush, “I was trying to find a comic to get into. My friend suggested I’d like them, but I really haven’t a clue what I’m looking for. Do you have any suggestions?”

“I don’t know what kinds of things you like, and your friend would probably make better suggestions, but my favorite is Spider-Man. Sorry I’ve got to…” but before you’d even finished your statement you were around the corner, rushing to hide from the encounter. You’d spoken so fast you weren’t even sure he’d understood you, but you also weren’t sure that was a bad thing.

After a sufficient amount of time for your anxiety to pass somewhat, you noticed you were standing in the high school test-prep book aisle. You immediately regretted not at least bothering to choose a hiding spot with books you’d not read a million times, or at the very least something a little closer to your interests. You’d spent too much time on these boring tomes when you needed them, and now they were as irrelevant as a paperclip. You sighed to yourself, again back to remembering how quickly the years go by, and how you still hadn’t had anyone that made you feel less alone through any of it. And just like that, your day went from boring to uncomfortable to wonderful and finally to just another day in the life of your anxieties.

When you felt like enough time had passed for the boy who ruined your day to have made his purchase and left, you exited the most boring aisle in the store and went to the café to study. You ordered your tea, no sugar no cream, and found the table in the corner you always claimed as your own. You pulled your ancient laptop from its pocket and began waiting the seemingly six hundred years it took to start up. In the meantime, you retrieved your tea from the barista, pulled your textbook and highlighters out of your bag, and began to read through the material.

As your laptop finally lived and you found your assignment, you sensed someone coming up to your table and heard a voice say,

“Thanks for the recommendation; the books I was looking at before were too Boron for me to make it through.”

You looked up from your homework to see the same guy from before looking down at you, his face graced with a lopsided smile. “Huh?” You say, in your typical eloquent fashion.

“You know, Boron, like, the chemical… you were just… doing chemistry so I thought…” he trailed off as he started to walk away, the smile falling from his face.

The attempted pun finally clicked for you, and you felt embarrassed not getting it the first time around. You noticed him turning to walk off, and for some reason that made you feel guilty. “Hey wait!” you called, “ No wait! It was funny! I just didn’t get it! I mean, in my defense, it was a terrible, awful pun. But it was funny!”

He turned back around, and his face lit up. “Oh? You think I’m funny, do you?” He waggled his eyebrows at you, eliciting a giggle.

“Yeah, maybe funny looking,” you scoff. “You’re welcome for the recommendation though, I hope you like it.”

“Well,” he started, “to be completely honest, I’ve already read them all so far. I just really wanted to see what you’d recommend. I’m Tom. Do you mind if I sit here?” He motioned to the chair opposite you, the one usually left unoccupied or stolen by another table.

You managed to stutter out an affirmative answer, being once again taken aback by this person’s willingness to talk to you. He sat and made himself comfortable with a cup of tea and his stack of new comics. He started asking you about your theories regarding the current storyline and how the comics relate to the movies, and you became fully invested in the conversation. Eventually, after much discussion, you both came to the same conclusion regarding the direction the story should take and settled into a silence.

While silence was usually comfortable for you, it was only such when you were by yourself. You quickly started to feel anxious about the way you were sitting and were even acutely aware of how you were breathing. You were surprised you had managed to make it that long without having some sort of anxiety, but the clammy hands and red cheeks threatened a need to make a quick exit. You looked at the man across from you and noticed that he had picked up one of his new books and was quietly reading and sipping his tea. He looked completely unphased by the silence, and that was calming to you.

For the first time, you noticed how kind his eyes looked, and the way his curly brown hair laid haphazardly on his head. The slight curve of his lips showed his enjoyment of the novel, and you smiled before you caught yourself. You realized you were staring and quickly opened up your laptop and… it was dead. Completely dead. And you’d left your charger at home. You thanked whatever deity was in charge of such things for allowing you such a convenient escape.

“I’m sorry, uh, what did you say your name was?” You stuttered.

“Tom, my name’s Tom Holland, love,” he answered, barely taking his eyes from his reading.

“Right, uh, well, I’m Y/N, and I’m very sorry but I’ve got to go home and finish this work.” You had already shoved your things into your bag and were getting up to leave.

“Oh! Oh, right, of course,” he suddenly was no longer smiling, but looked rather dismayed. He pulled a piece of paper from his bag, scribbled something on it, and handed it to you before you could walk away. “Give me a call when you’ve read the next installment, yeah, love?”

You blushed redder than you were sure you had ever been before, and without saying anything back to the cute boy handing you his number, left. Practically running to your car, you couldn’t help but think to lament that you could never go back to the bookstore after that horribly embarrassing event. Or maybe you were lamenting the fact that you knew you’d never use the number burning a hole in your pocket. You got in your car and had another lucky run on the radio, once again feeling high as ever and smiling the rest of the day.

[annavolovodov]

Out of interest, how do you lose nine people on another continent?

Should be impossible, right? I mean, if I were taking pupils on a school trip to another continent I would be sure not to lose any. Alas the stupidity of man is infinite and not to be underestimated. 

Firstly, some background. 

The year: 2016, because when the fuck else would something like this occur?The location: New York, a city with a higher population than my entire country. The people: 36 pupils on a trip to NYC and DC with only four teachers accompanying. 

In retrospect it seems inevitable that some sort of chaos would occur but even so, I don’t think anyone expected this level of drama. And I want to highlight that this is only one of several incidents that occured over the course of this five-day trip.

It was our first full day in New York. The itinerary (which I had memorised) had us visiting Liberty and Ellis Island, meaning we had to get the subway through Manhattan at rush hour. That was as fun as it sounds. We also had these travel cards allowing four people through the barriers per card so essentially the entire group HAD to stick together. The final point I want to emphasise about the underground is how fucking complicated it is compared to the one we have back home. Ours is literally a circle meaning you can’t fuck it up and get lost whereas New York has a labyrinth of tunnels all leading to different places so you have to have a clear idea of where you’re going.

These details become important later.

(Side-note: when we were waiting on the platform a large section of the group and two teachers actually got on the wrong train and didn’t realise until they spotted our horrified expressions as the carriage pulled away. But that isn’t our main story here. It was hella funny though and felt like a dark prelude to the chaos that would occur mere hours from that moment.)

Anyway, eventually we all get to Liberty Island. We take pictures, me and my nine friends go up the plinth and get great views of the city, all is well.

After having a look around Ellis Island, we all queued up at the ferry terminal. My friends and I were at the back of the queue because we’d been the only ones who’d decided to go up the Statue of Liberty, which resulted in most of the group getting the first ferry back to Manhattan while we had to wait for the next one. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been on one of these ferries but they are unbelievably crowded (and the toilets are disgusting - avoid at all costs). Like if this thing had sunk we would all be fucked. Clearly health and safety is not a Thing in America because there is no way the volume of people on those vessels is safe, no way. 

There is most definitely not enough seats for everyone on board but our feet are killing us at this point so me, my friends and one of the other girls on the trip all end up sitting on the stairs. I can still see our accompanying teacher, Miss G, from my step and she could clearly see us. Or so I thought.

The stairs are near the back of the boat which means when the ferry docks so naturally, Miss G gets off before we even have a chance to move. But I’m not worried. Most of the group were on the first ferry and only a handful of pupils disembarked with her. Nine of us are still on board and there’s no way she’d leave without noticing such a large group of people missing.

OR SO I THOUGHT.

Cause when we return to dry land it immediately becomes clear that instead of waiting by the terminus to make sure the entire group is together like any sensible person would do, Miss G and the others have fucked off into the sunset and left us behind. We check all the nearby paths but nope! They’ve gone and left nine teenage girls alone in a park in one of the busiest cities of the world. Great!

I’m gonna use a timeline to explain how events progressed and I’m also changing names because I don’t have direct permission from those involved to put this on the internet.

11:30am EST: Miss G has most definitely left us. The squad concludes they’ll probably realise they’ve lost a whole quarter of the group and return soon enough. No one is too stressed and honestly I’m grateful to get a seat on a bench because my feet are on fire from all the walking.

11:40am EST: ten minutes and still nothing. Surprisingly, I’m not worried: the one good thing about anxiety disorders is that you gotta plan the shit outta everything. This being my first time away from home, I’ve decided to be extra cautious. I have full details of the hotel including address, phone number and email memorised. I have several hundred dollars in a bag stuck up my skirt. Most importantly, I have the moral high ground. We have done nothing wrong. This is not our mistake, nor is it down to us to sort it out. Me and my friend Rosa decide to kick back in the shade and keep hydrated till we see Miss G doing the walk of shame back to us.

12:10pm EST: stress is kicking in for some members of the group. Jessica is starting to get super-anxious and we’re all way too warm in this 30°C heat. Some of the girls wonder if we should head to the next stop on the itinerary (the WTC memorial) - it isn’t far from Battery Park and it’s most likely where one others are, but we immediately decide against that. If we move from this spot and the teachers come back they’ll use that to spin the blame on us, and we ain’t gonna let that happen. We can’t return to the hotel except as a last resort because we don’t have enough subway cards and we don’t know which station we originated from, so we’d need to get a cab and no one is keen on spending that much money.

The good news is that I also have the number of the teacher’s mobile memorised. The bad news is that we aren’t entirely sure whether the number needs an international code or not because who phones from their mobile when their abroad??? No one! In the end Ella, Melanie and I try to find a sympathetic-looking American to target for help. We find an old lady from Staten Island who tells us her life story - it was actually very interesting if time-consuming - but alas! She doesn’t know how phones work either! We’re back at square one.

Ella decides to bite the bullet, international fees be damned, and offers up her mobile as sacrifice. We text and call the teachers but to no avail. After several attempts I suggest we try ringing the hotel and seeing if they have any method of contacting the teachers but the receptionist turns out to be as helpful as a chocolate teapot.

This is probably not a shock but me and my friends were not what you would consider “popular” in high school. Most of the other kids on the trip either looked down on us or outright hated us. But thankfully there was one girl in the other group who Melanie was kinda friends with and was willing to help us, bless her. Ella texted explaining the situation, she texted back confirming they were at the WTC, telling us she’d explain everything to the teachers and send them our way… as soon as she found them herself.

Yep, that’s right. The teachers had in fact ditched the pupils in the other group at the Twin Towers memorial and had disappeared off themselves. They weren’t answering their phone and we had no idea where they were. Essentially, we were stuck waiting in this park until they decided to come back.

12:30pm EST: an hour into the abandonment with no end in sight. We’re severely questioning whether the teachers have actually noticed we’d gone, because surely this would be the first place they’d return to, but I do enjoy imagining them running around the city in a panic looking for us.

Obviously everyone within the group is handling the situation in very different ways. Let me do a brief recap:

Jessica is having a straight-up panic attack at being left alone without adult supervision in one of the busiest cities in the world. Her anxiety is exacerbated by what we’d later learn was heatstroke when she collapses in the middle of a Broadway show that night.

Holly is unsuccessfully trying to calm Jessica down.

Ella is pissed af, especially since she’s just spent a fortune trying to call for help. Genuinely she’s one of the funniest people I know but she is NOT afraid of confrontation and is very much preparing a rant she will deliver to whichever teacher comes to pick us up. 

Melanie is equally pissed but is overall staying levelheaded and trying to maintain order. 

Nathalie is ready to throw hands - she straight up HATES Mrs M and has been going on about it the entire trip thus far. At first I thought she was blowing things out or proportion but by the time I boarded the plane back home I realised that nope, Nathalie’s hatred was justified. She also turns out to have heatstroke and spends that evening throwing up.

Nicoletta’s method of coping is through humour. “Wouldn’t it be funny,” she says, “if we pretend Elise nearly got mugged when the teachers return to try and make them feel bad?” “No it would not be funny,” I reply, “because I can’t lie for shit and besides, I don’t wanna be the victim.” (In a shocking twist of events I WAS a victim of a scam in a separate incident two days later, but that’s a different story).

I think Isobel’s primary emotion at this point was “too warm to care” which was highkey relatable. 

Rosa is just plain hungry (we’ve missed lunch, after all). She can’t be arsed with the stress/arguing/ranting and the two of us decide to go over to a street vendor and purchase an overpriced Magnum each.

As for me, I was remarkably calm for someone with severe anxiety issues. The thought of confrontation was worrying me more than the actual sensation of being in my own personal recreation of Home Alone 2. I mean, none of this was our fault. We definitely had the moral high-ground here. I knew it, the teachers knew it, I knew the teachers knew and the teachers knew that I knew that they knew. The ball was very much in our court.

1pm EST: a whopping hour and a half after the arrival of our ferry, Miss G and Mrs M have finally thought to themselves “hmm, the group looks a bit small, maybe we’re missing a quarter of them?” and decided to have a gentle stroll back to Battery Park to test their hypothesis.

Not gonna lie, when I saw them coming my heart was in my fucking throat. Usually I love watching drama unfold but it’s less fun when you’re in the middle of it and you’re going to be spending all your time over the next few days with those involved. 

I braced myself for the worst but before any of us could utter a word, Mrs M shot right in there with “well that was a life lesson for you all, let’s move on!” It was the single worst thing she could’ve said because from that point we all knew that they knew they were in the wrong and were desperately trying to divert the blame. 

Some of the other girls made comments about the whole ordeal and conveyed that they were pissed off but I never spoke another word about it. I think that scared them, that I never really indicated my feelings, because Mrs M kept trying to make friends with me for the rest of the trip and it was kinda entertaining to watch her attempts to figure out whether I’d grass them in when I got home. 

In all honesty, I would’ve dropped the matter immediately if they had apologised straight away when they came back for us. But they never said sorry at any point, not even to Nathalie and Jessica when they ended up really ill as a result of being left in the park for so long. As the day went on it all got a big gaslight-y and they kept trying to spin the blame back on us, telling us we should’ve went and found them instead of waiting there, and that pissed me off even more because I had an abusive relative gaslight me a lot when I was a kid and I hate all that manipulative bullshit. But the real interesting thing is the fact they didn’t learn from their mistakes. I have so many entertaining stories from that trip due to the teachers leaving people behind or mismanaging things including four other occasions in the next three days where people got lost or left behind.

The best part is that although I’ve left, I still follow the school’s Facebook page that they use as their main mode of communication for parents. Apparently they’re doing another NYC/DC trip this year and I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I put a comment on the post announcing the trip’s departure wishing them a safe journey and hoping that they don’t lose anyone for two hours in middle of New York this time…