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marauderundercover · 3 years

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This Side of Normal Ch. 7

AO3

Marinette Dupain Cheng didn’t have a normal life. On the contrary, some would call her life Miraculous. Well, one would. And she would whack him every time. As much as she loved her brother (in all but blood) Adrien, she couldn’t stand his puns most of the time. After he first lost his arm a year ago at the final battle against Hawkmoth, she let him get away with a lot of puns and awful jokes. Because she blamed herself for his injury. She should’ve been able to fix him. But she wasn’t. She still blamed herself some days, but she no longer laughed at every single one of his puns. He knew she hated them, and it was better for her mental health to let him know how awful they were. She’s stirred from her thoughts by Adrien nudging her, obviously trying to get her attention.

“Where are we going for our spring break trip? You helped Mme. Bustier plan that, right?” Adrien asks. She frowns, not sure what brought that topic up.

“We’re going to spend a week in New York and then a week in London. Why?” She asks, confused at his worried expression.

“Okay well, maybe you should tell Mme. Bustier that. Because she just said that we’re spending two weeks in New Jersey.” Adrien says with a grimace.

“WHAT!?” She yells, jumping out of her seat.

“Marinette! I was trying to go over the details of the trip. I’m very disappointed in you. You know better than to interrupt like that.” Mme. Bustier says, shaking her head with a small frown. Marinette’s face turns red and she drops back into her seat, muttering an apology.

“What do you mean we’re going to New Jersey? What’s even in New Jersey?” She asks Adrien in a hushed whisper, conscious of the glares from Lila at the front of the room but determined to ignore them any way she can.

“Gotham, apparently. And the Wayne family. According to Lila, she can get us in for a tour at Wayne Enterprises and Gotham Academy and every other thing the Waynes do. Because she’s dating Damian Wayne, didn’t you know?” Adrien explains, lip quirking in amusement. Marinette groans, dropping her head onto their table.

“Do you realize now I’m going to have to arrange at least part of that? Or we won’t have anything to do and we’ll be stuck in some random city for two whole weeks.” Marinette says, a headache already forming.

“Or, or, hear me out. You could just let her fail. And the trip will flop and everyone will see that she’s awful.” Adrien says. It was a much different response than what he would’ve had a year ago. But the defeat of Hawkmoth and the revelation that his father was a supervillain was enough to alter Adrien’s world view. He wasn’t hopelessly optimistic anymore. He was more cynical. He was still insanely kind, but he didn’t give out his kindness to people who didn’t deserve it. Like the lying bitch in their class.

“I don’t wanna be stuck in a hotel with her for two weeks.” Marinette points out with a grimace. “Wait a minute, why does Gotham sound familiar?”

“Probably from when you were friends with Alya. Batman and his whole team is from Gotham.” He says, slumping down in his seat so that he can continue to whisper to her.

“Oh goody. Crime capital of the US and Lila decides to lie her way into the city. But it wasn’t enough for just her to be targeted. Oh no, she had to get our entire class involved. Yippee.” Marinette snarks, shoving her face back into her folded arms on the desk. It was too much for this early. Time for a nap.

---

After submitting a five thousand word essay on how beneficial a tour of Wayne Enterprises would be and an additional three thousand word essay to Gotham Academy on the benefits of having an exchange class for a week, Marinette was pleased to say that their trip to Gotham wouldn’t be completely boring.

In fact, it would be similar enough to what Lila had lied that hopefully, she wouldn’t be blamed for messing anything up. Sure, they wouldn’t have personal tours from the Wayne family or an invitation to the Spring Gala that the Waynes were hosting, but at least they’d have something to do in Crime City. Hopefully with the amount of security at both Gotham Academy and WE, they wouldn’t run into too many villains. After three years under Hawkmoth, she never wanted to deal with a villain again. Unless she could punch him or her in the face. Then yeah, she’d happily meet a villain. But seeing as it’s highly frowned upon to piss off a Gotham villain like that, she’d prefer to just not see one at all. Would certainly make things easier.

Marinette huffs, glaring at the mess of clothes falling out of her suitcase. She’d started packing two days ago, and then yesterday discovered that she packed the outfit she wanted to wear on the plane. So then she had to take everything out, but then she couldn’t find the outfit and after throwing everything around she found the outfit. Still in her dresser. And now she had a huge mess falling out of her suitcase and not enough time left to pack neatly. Not if she wanted to get any sleep.

“Hey Adrien, can you give me a hand?” She asks, beginning to fold the mess of clothes back up. He’s silent for a minute, and then she hears a click. She sighs and looks up just in time to catch the arm he threw at her.

“There you go!” He says cheekily, a wide grin on his face as he hangs upside down from her bed. She narrows her eyes.

“You know what I meant, you absolute menace.” She deadpans. He snorts before dropping down, landing gracefully and catching the arm she throws back at him.

“You know you love me, Bug.” He says, helping her fold her clothes.

“Unfortunately.” She says with a dramatic sigh. “You hear from Jay yet this week?”

“Yeah. Told me, and I quote ‘stop annoying Pixie Pop with your lameass jokes kid. I can’t protect you from her fury from across the ocean’.” He says with a laugh.

“At least he knows I’d best you in a fight.” She says with a hum. Adrien sputters, an offended look on his face as he slams her last shirt into her suitcase.

“That is not what that meant!” He argues with a pout.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Kitty.” She says, zipping the suitcase shut and trying hard to ignore the bad feeling settling deep into her stomach. Something was going to happen in Gotham, and she wasn’t sure if it would be good or bad.

---

Of course the class would leave them on their first full day in Gotham. It made sense. They’d hated Mari before Hawkmoth’s reveal. And after Hawkmoth’s reveal, they were hesitant around Adrien. Even with the whole ‘my dad cut off my arm’ thing. So honestly, leaving the two of them stranded at the hotel was just par for the course.

“At least we’re together.” Marinette says bitterly, thinking of the fact that the class would be getting to tour Wayne Enterprises. A place that she had worked hard to allow them to tour.

“Come on Mari, look on the bright side.” Adrien says, grabbing her hand and tugging her along.

“What bright side? We were left behind, in Gotham, of all places. What could possibly be good about this situation?” She asks, slightly dragging her feet as he tugged her along behind him.

“Mmmm, the fact that Wayne Enterprises is only a block away.” He says with a grin. She straightens immediately, actually keeping up with his pace now instead of allowing herself to be dragged behind him.

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” She asks, shaking her head in faux disappointment. He shrugs.

“I like a little chaos.” He says. Marinette opens her mouth to snark back at him, but is instead silenced by the building in front of her. Wayne Enterprises was slightly intimidating, but she was still amazed by its design. It was modern and sleek and her hand twitched towards the sketchbook in her purse. She could just imagine skirts with the same sleek shapes and dark colors, suits whose build was used to make the wearer look taller. Just as she’s about to pull out her sketchbook, she sees a familiar head of hair walking into the building. Dark hair with a white streak. But-

“Was that Jason?” She asks, suddenly far more interested in the man who just walked in. Adrien’s gaze snaps to where hers is, frowning at the closed door.

“I don’t know, but let’s go see.” He says, and this time, she’s the one tugging him. Their class completely forgotten. Until they walk through the doors and hear the incessant chatter and noise that comes with being around Lila Rossi. But not enough that is enough to deter the two from their goal. Especially when the man they’d followed turns around, a familiar face set into a scowl.

“Jay!” Marinette calls, waving at him. The man’s scowl instantly drops into a wide smile and he rushes past the class, sweeping the two up into a huge hug.

“Pixie! Kid! What are you two doing here?” He asks, holding them close.

“Jay-Jay, can’t breathe.” Mari says, letting out a puff of air as he sets them down gently.

“Hey Jay!” Adrien says, a wide smile on his face, one of the most sincere smiles Mari had seen in a while. She felt her own face fall into an easy smile. After a year apart, they were together again.

“Uh. Jason? Job, remember?” A voice asks, pulling the three out of their reunion. Jason looks at the man and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, Dick, thanks. I’d completely forgotten why I came all the way here.” He snarks, no venom in his tone.

“Did you just-” Marinette starts to ask, uncertain if he was calling the man a name or?

“Shit, I forget that even though you speak it just fine, English isn’t your first language. His name is Richard, but ‘Dick’ is a nickname for Richard. It’s what he usually goes by.” Jason explains, snorting at the look on her face. She huffs and rolls her eyes.

“Well excuse me, Mr. To be fair, you calling someone that wouldn’t be out of the question. You have shitty language a lot of the time.” She teases with a smirk.

“That’s it. You’re disowned. I no longer claim you as my little sister.” He says, turning around dramatically and walking away. Marinette’s jaw drops at him. She looks at Adrien who just smirks, and then at Dick who just looks confused with the entire situation.

“What the hell was that? I thought I was the dramatic one.” She pouts.

“Looks like you’ve lost your touch Bug.” Adrien says, crossing his arms. Her eyes narrow.

“Is that a challenge?” She asks. He shrugs.

“Do with it what you will. Just don’t get him in trouble, I think he actually works here.” He says, glancing around the packed lobby. Marinette looks around and sighs. She didn’t want to make a scene with the class, and she definitely didn’t want Jason to get in trouble.

“I’ll get him later.” She mumbles, falling into place on Adrien’s right side naturally. The two walk in sync to the rest of the class, oblivious to the bewildered look given to them by Dick Grayson.

Master list

Tag list (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat

#maribat #maribat jason todd #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #platonic maribat adrienette #maribat platonic adrienette #fanfic #ao3fic #platonic jasonette #This Side of Normal #maribat big brother Jason Todd #maribat fic #akuma glass goes to gotham #maribat gotham fic #maribat but make it all left au

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

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Daring - Chapter 2

This is part two of my Abby Mordern!Au, you can read Chapter 1 here.

Masterlist

Abby and the reader have dinner at Abby's place. There is music playing and referenced, so I'd recommend you listen to this playlist with all the songs playing in order as soon as the date night begins. About 10k words.

CW for alcohol consumption, mention of death/murder, mention of dubious consent (and possibly terrible grammar. It's 10pm, I just finished this, I don't have a proofreader atm)

Thyme and Tree Bark

“Don’t mess this up, airhead. Take care!”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, idiot!”

You closed the door behind Mark as he vanished down the stairs and headed straight for your bed. Though you were less wobbly on your feet after devouring half of a perfectly cheesy pizza with just the right amount of jalapenos, it had thrown you straight into a food coma. Your angel of a brother had come over at noon with two chilled cans of coke and a large pizza from your favorite Italian place and not even ripped open the curtains as he usually did. Instead, he had thrown himself on the bed right next to you, handed you a slice, and demanded you start talking.

Of course, he already knew about Abby and your embarrassing shyness when it came to the buff blonde, so he was extremely proud of the progress you had made with your excruciating crush. You both agreed that Abby had definitely invited you over for a date this week - alone, without Manny there - and that it had to mean she was interested, too. He had laughed about the little bar stint when Abby had shut down your flirt with the hot waitress in an instant and was now 100% sure this was going to go great. As long as you kept it together and didn’t ruin everything. As you often did. This needed some tactical planning.

Mouths full of cheesy delight and laughing at each other’s stupid ideas, you and your brother had come up with a fairly foolproof plan. You would text Abby in 1-2 days, keeping it cool and asking when you should come over. Then, you would suggest making cocktails at home, already granting a fun activity and something to loosen the mood. You would keep it casual and bring over some nice liquor and maybe a bag of chips, perfect for watching a movie. You’d try to keep the conversation casual and try to speak mostly about Abby, asking lots of questions so you didn’t get tangled up in speaking about yourself. If you steered the conversation toward movies, you could watch something exciting and maybe even scary together so you could cuddle up on the couch together. And well, if you got that far, things would probably fall into place naturally. Foolproof. Y/N-proof.

You groaned as you reached over to grab your phone from your nightstand. You had a message from your mom asking if you wanted to come over for dinner next weekend and an email from your professor who wanted to submit your last essay to some kind of grant application. You’d have to answer her later, your head still felt like it was filled with cotton. Instead, you sent Leah a message.

-Hey, you still alive? There’s leftover pizza and coke over here.

Five seconds later, there was a delighted squeal at the other side of the wall and you heard the click of your roommate’s door before yours opened and Leah tiptoe-danced inside, beaming at you. She was wearing nothing but an extremely tight-fitting cropped wifebeater and a khaki thong, accentuating her long legs as she leaped right onto your bed and almost made you fly as her weight hit the mattress. You tried not to stare at her perfectly toned abs as she opened the gigantic carton and held up a slice of pizza over her head, letting the tip dangle in her mouth before biting down with a moan that made you snort awkwardly.

“Good morning, you animal.”

Leah just moaned again, making a grabbing motion with her hand and pointing toward the second can of coke on your nightstand. You laughed silently as you handed her the cold can, condensed water running down the sides and wetting your fingers. You wiped them on the blanket. The tall brunette swallowed hard and took a sip of coke.

“Good morning, womanizer.” She grinned widely. “I’m so proud of you, man. This is the first time I’ve seen you in action and I can safely say Abby was just as surprised as I was.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Oh god, was I that obvious? Did I do anything inappropriate? I thought it went well, but now I’m not so sure.” You spread your fingers to peak at your roommate who was currently chewing on a ginormous bite, tomato juice running down her chin. No manners, that girl. She just shook her head and made a noise somewhere between protest and encouragement.

“No, you were fine,” she said with a full mouth, “very tipsy, but cute. I hope you remember Abby inviting you to her place.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

You ran your fingers through your hair, immediately getting stuck in a tangle of knots. God, you needed a shower.

“Yeah, I already went over it with Mark. We made a plan so I won’t embarrass myself.”

“Good. I hope it goes well, you two would be cute together. Hot, even. I mean, no one can deny the allure of those biceps. And her ass?! Godly.” She easily evaded the kick you aimed at her ribs, laughing and slapping your shin away.

“Come on, let’s not act like you’re not ogling her every chance you get. I am, too - the woman looks like a greek goddess!”

“That’s enough,” you giggled, aiming another playful kick in her direction but only lightly hitting her in the thigh. “I know what she looks like.”

“Right. And soon, you’ll hopefully see a lot more of her.” This time, Leah jumped off the bed before your toes could sink right into her side. You tried to suppress a grin as you two stared at each other for a moment before Leah sat back down cross-legged and began eating the last slice of pizza.

“I mean,” she said casually, “you have seen more of a woman before, right?”

You grabbed your coke and turned it in your hands before answering.

“Yeah, I have. It wasn’t… It wasn’t all that, though. Just one time and we were both so nervous it was just awkward.”

Now Leah looked at you with a mixture of shock and pity.

“Come on, Y/N. Only once? You’ve never seen stars because of a woman’s tongue? Never screamed into a pillow because of some skilled sapphic strap game? Never lost your mi-”

“Leaahhhh!” You groaned, feeling blood shoot into your cheeks. “No, okay? I… I made the other girl cum, but for me, it was just… it was too unfamiliar and I didn’t know her well enough to really let myself enjoy it.”

Suddenly a thought crossed your mind and you felt your eyes open wide.

“Wait. Has Abby…? Is she..?”

Leah paused mid-bite and thought for a second.

“Well, she does have experience with men, obviously. As far as women go… I honestly don’t know. She’s dated a few, but it never went longer than a couple of weeks. I don’t know how fast things go with her and she’s never gone into detail with me. I have to ask Nora about that.”

“Don’t you dare! She’ll know this is about me and tell Abby!”

“Oh come on, I’m interested, too.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you so you know what to prepare for, win-win!” She nudged your foot and gave you a mischievous half-smile.

“For god’s sake, do what you must.” You finished your coke and threw it perfectly into the bin beside your desk. Leah gave you an impressed nod. “And now I desperately need a shower. There is a literal nest on top of my head.”

“True,” Leah said and stood up, stretching her limbs as she walked to the door. “Thanks for the pizza. I’m gonna ask Jordan if he wants to come over, so don’t walk out naked if you don’t want a threesome.” She winked at you before closing the door, but a small part at the back of your brain knew that she wasn’t completely joking. You sighed and swung your legs off your bed. No point in lying around, it was past 3 pm anyway.

Grabbing your phone, a shirt, and some clean boxers, you headed for the bathroom. You took your time showering, detangling the mess on your head with lots of conditioner, humming along to Marika Hackman’s cover of I Follow Rivers as you stood under the hot stream of water and brushing your teeth for at least five minutes while waiting for a hair mask to do its magic. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was filled with hot steam and you felt like a whole new person. You slipped into your fresh clothes and held the blow dryer to the mirror until your reflection was clear.

So. Here you were. Finally, you had spoken to the woman of your dreams and even flirted with her. She may have even been jealous of your short conversation with Ellie, the bartender. Tomorrow, you would text her, you would be brave and cool and not at all awkward. As you collected your clothes off the floor and took your phone, you suddenly realized something that would destroy your entire plan. You didn’t even have Abby’s phone number. Why hadn’t you asked her? Of course, you could ask Leah for it, but Abby would know because she knew she hadn’t given it to you. It would be a lot less cool and casual. Fuck.

You stepped into the hallway and ran straight into Jordan. Perfect. Good thing Leah had warned you.

“Oh, hi Y/N! You doing alright after all those tequila shots?” Jordan’s face was open and kind. You immediately relaxed. Just a guy, not a threat.

“Better than I thought I would, actually. What about you?”

“Well, I sent them back out the way they came as soon as I got home.” He grimaced and shrugged. “Just glad I’m still alive, to be honest.”

You had to laugh. “I’m glad, too. Leah would have been devastated.”

“I hope so.” He grinned back. The silence between you stretched a little bit too long.

“Anyways, I’m gonna see what she’s up to. See you later?”

“Yeah, sure!” You said, relieved that he didn’t make it awkward. You quickly slipped into your room and sank down on the bed, composing a text to Mark.

-Minor hiccup - I don’t have her number.

His reply came immediately.

-Shit. What now?

You let yourself fall back on the mattress and covered your face with your arm. Your phone vibrated again and you lifted it up, hoping for a brilliant idea.

-Hey, this is Abby. Are we still on for next week?

You almost dropped your phone on your face. For a minute, you just stared at the message. Then you rolled over onto your stomach and screamed into your pillow.

-Hi Abby. We absolutely are. Y/N.

You tried to suppress a fit of giggles as you texted your brother.

-Nvm, she just texted me.

-Omg what!! Play it cool, don’t answer yet. What did she say???

-Oops already answered. Still on for next week.

-Incredibly casual lol. Whatever, good for you!

-Shut up!

Another text by Abby came in and you actually started drumming your feet on the bed with excitement.

-Tuesday? I could cook for us

-Very impressive, I’ll bite. What time should I come over?

-Very clever. 6pm? Any allergies?

-Vegetarian, hope that’s okay. 6 is great, text me your address?

You watched the little text bubble pop up and vanish again for a good minute, getting more and more nervous for her answer.

- No problem. 2425 Constance.

There was nothing else to do but scream into your pillow again.

The next two days went excruciatingly slow. You spent the rest of your Sunday in bed, watching a terrible zombie movie and later ordering curry because you couldn’t be bothered with preparing any food. As it got late, you suddenly heard a knock on the wall. At first, you thought it was accidental, until the knocking started to continue in a steady rhythm. With a death glare that you hoped would reach through the concrete, you plugged your headphones into your laptop and continued watching your movie.

On Monday, you threw yourself into art history coursework and caught up on your studies, emailed your professor, and spent three hours on an essay about the depiction of blood in paintings of Judith beheading Holofernes. Lovely subject. Even though you got through a lot of your tasks for the day, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at your phone every 10 minutes to see if you had missed a message. Of course, nothing came up. Around 4 pm, your phone buzzed and you leapt for it only to find out it was Leah asking you to buy toilet paper later. At 6pm, you shut off your laptop and grabbed your backpack to go grocery shopping.

Standing in the liquor store you realized you hadn’t asked Abby about cocktails.

“Looking for something in particular?” the elderly lady behind the counter asked. It seemed to be her own shop and to have been hers for a while, judging by the elegant wooden shelves and the warm, nice feeling of the room instead of neon lights and rows of white metal.

“Uh, yeah, actually. I have a date tomorrow and I thought we could make cocktails, but I forgot to ask what she likes. So now I don’t know what to bring.” You gave her an apologetic half smile. She stood up from her seat behind the register, growing not even 2 inches standing compared to sitting and made her way over to you. Her eyes twinkled behind thick glasses that made her look a little bit like an owl.

“Well, dear. I don’t know if I would go straight into the hard liquor on a first date. On my last first date, we had a delicious red wine, a Merlot. Couldn’t that be something? Are you going to eat anything?”

“Oh yes, she said she’d cook for us, but I don’t know what exactly.”

The shop owner gently put a hand on your arm and guided you to a shelf of dark bottles.

“Well, Merlot goes well with any food, so I think it would be perfect. Cocktails come later, when you dress up and go out together or after a night of theater.” You felt a surge of warmth spread through your chest. Theater? Well, why not? For a second, you began to trail off, imagining Abby in a perfectly tailored suit, you at her arm just as dressed up, every head turning as you entered the room and ordered Gin Tonics at the bar during the break. The voice next to you pulled you back to the present.

“If you’re cooking at home, wine is the thing to bring, trust me.”

“I trust you,” you said with a smile as you took the bottle she handed you. The label was a creamy white, with beautiful golden letters. Hopefully this wouldn’t bankrupt you. “Thank you for your help.”

The shopkeeper sat back down in her chair with a sigh and typed into the cash register. 15.99$. That wasn’t so bad. You paid and gently put the bottle inside your backpack.

“You know, you should come by soon and let me know how it went. I think that Merlot will bring you good luck. My wife and I still have it every Sunday.” Your head snapped up and your eyes met that charming, smart twinkle again, flashing at you out of dark brown irises. For a moment, all of the things you wanted to say were stuck in your throat, then you just broke into a smile.

“That’s wonderful, ma’am. I hope I can have that, in the future.”

“Of course you will, dear.” She really sounded like she meant it. A small lump suddenly appeared in your throat.

“Thank you so much. I wish you all the best.”

“Go get her!”

You laughed and waved at her again as you exited the shop, taking the warmth and comfort of it with you and tucking it right beneath the bottom of your heart and the top of your stomach where you knew it would fuel you for a few days. You had already decided that you would come back and make it your mission to befriend that old lady. What a wonderful woman.

Only 23 hours to go. That night, it was almost impossible to fall asleep.

You got through the next day by once again banning any thought of the evening from your mind and diving head first into your assignments. You were going to lead a discussion on different planes of language or communications in women’s art and literature and reading up on the historical differences between male and female narratives, beginning with the ancient poet Sappho. It was an exciting topic, something you were extremely thankful for. Otherwise you might have been looking at your phone every 3 minutes instead of every 20. Of course, no message from Abby.

The bottle of wine was standing on your nightstand, reminding you of your plans with an exciting tingle in your stomach. At 4pm, you gave up on doing anything productive. You spent forever in the shower, stealing some of Leah’s expensive pink body scrub, shaving everywhere and regretting it immediately because you felt stupid for assuming anything, entertaining the but what if thoughts while you thoroughly lathered your entire body in Leah’s shampoo and shower gel and spending a good 10 minutes just standing under the hot water because you weren’t ready to leave that fantasy yet. When you stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was an actual steam bath and you could hardly see the door through the thick waves of wonderfully scented fog. You took your time stealing some more of Leah’s skincare products, having come to the conclusion that if she noticed anything and scolded you for it, you might as well try out the whole arsenal.

When you finally opened your closet door, feeling luxurious and clean and fresh, it was 5.10pm. What the hell were you going to wear? You and Mark had agreed on casual, but what the hell did that even mean? You decided to ask him.

-Help!!! Freaking out over my outfit, need a definition for casual

-Jeans and T-Shirt, just your standard outfit. Imagine meeting me for sushi.

-I’m bringing red wine. It seems wrong to bring wine in jeans and a t-shirt..

-What happened to cocktails?? Trust me, keep it simple. You don’t wanna turn up in a dress and she opens the door in sweatpants.

-I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in sweatpants. Ughh fuck I don’t have time for this. Jeans and t-shirt it is. Lesbian grandma recommended wine, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow x

-Go get her x

You quickly slipped into some black jeans that were just the right amount of tightly fitting around your ass and a white shirt with a tiny pomegranate embroidered on the front. Then you put on your jacket and quickly threw your wallet, phone and keys into a tote before grabbing the wine and putting it in as well. With a last look into the hallway mirror and a yelled goodbye to Leah, you rushed out of your apartment.

The evening air was not as cool as you had expected and the sun was just about to set. On your way to the train station, you typed out an on my way! message to Abby and quickly deleted it again. No sense in sending it now when you hadn’t spoken since Sunday and were about to see her. The train ride was annoying, the wagon stuffed with commuters and some guy trying to convince you the apocalypse was upon you all. Zombies, not the last judgement - something different at least.

During the walk from the station to Abby’s house, you were sure it wouldn’t take much more for you to actually start levitating. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your throat was so cramped up it was hard to breathe. When you pulled out your phone, your fingers were actually shaking. Jesus Christ, get a grip. 5.58 pm.

And there it was, 2425 Constance. Just a normal suburban white house, like any other in the street. It actually seemed a bit weird, Manny and Abby living here in the midst of what seemed to be a family neighborhood with real adults . Then again, they both weren’t in college, so you supposed they actually were real adults. When you walked up to the front door, you could hear faint music from inside - jazz? You wouldn’t have guessed she was the jazz type, but then again you knew almost nothing about her. Right. Ask questions, keep the conversation about her. Be cool.

You knocked.

Abby opened the door, a wave of warm air hitting you from inside. It smelled delightful. Her face was slightly flushed, her lips parted as she took in a deep breath. She had tied her hair back in a low bun, but a few strands had fallen out and framed her face. One was standing up in a funny angle.

“Hi, Abby,” you said, trying to keep your voice level and not stare at her body. Fuck, she had dressed up. And she looked hot.

“Hi!” A smile slowly grew wide on her face. When she realized that she was blocking the door, she quickly shook her head and stepped aside. “Come in! Can I take your jacket?”

Oh God, this was hopeless. You already knew you were hers. Thanking her, you took off your jacket and she hung it in a closet next to the entrance. When she turned around, you got a chance to admire her fully. She wore wide dress pants that perfectly accentuated all of her muscles, topped with a loose white shirt with wide sleeves, reminding you a little bit of a pirate. Her jewelry rounded off the pirate look and you had to bite back a grin. She raised her eyebrows at you.

“What?” Her cheeks were still slightly red, but you attributed it to standing in a hot kitchen for probably the last hour, judging by the variety of smells overlapping and mixing together, already making your mouth water.

“Uh, I brought wine,” you said and held out the bottle. Eloquent as always. Abby took it and whistled through her teeth as she inspected the label.

“That looks classic. The sauce I made has some wine in it as well, this is perfect. Thank you, what a great idea!”

You were overwhelmed with her generous praise and didn’t know where to look, so you settled on her hands. You had always sneaked looks at her hands, at the way she held a glass or drummed on a table or clasped them when she was intently listening to someone. They looked strong and rough from work, but there was also a delicacy in their movement and you were sure her touch could be as gentle as the brush of a hummingbird flying past. Realizing you were staring, you tore your gaze away.

“It smells delicious in here, I can’t wait to see what you cooked.” You followed her into the kitchen, where she placed the bottle on the counter and took a corkscrew from a drawer. A big red pot was standing on the gas stove over a tiny flame, the lid still hiding its contents. Your stomach suddenly growled loudly into the silence.

“Someone’s hungry.” Abby gave you a side glance and an amused smirk as she screwed the silver device into the cork. “Everything’s already set, we can get started right away.”

You covered your eyes with your hand for a second before laughing.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot to have lunch earlier and then I figured I’d just wait so I could really savour this.”

“Smart thinking. I made patates au vin , a vegetarian version of coq au vin which is chicken in wine. It’s basically potatoes and vegetables in a thick brown sauce, served with some good rustic bread.” You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling back at the thought of getting to eat home cooked french cuisine made by Abby in a few minutes.

“Oh my God, say that again.” You could barely stop yourself from moaning. Abby laughed and opened the wine with a loud pop.

“Here, take this over to the dinner table. I’m right behind you.” You took the bottle and followed her nod into the dining room. The wooden table was beautifully set with big and small plates, glasses for water and wine, candles, two blue glass bottles of water and a bowl of salad topped with what looked like apples, pomegranate seeds and feta cheese. You carefully placed the bottle of wine next to the water bottles and stepped aside for Abby, who came out of the kitchen carrying the heavy pot and placed it on a cork coaster in the middle of the table.

“Wait, let me just…” she trailed off as she grabbed her phone from the sideboard and changed the music. A saxophone led a jazz band into the song before a beautiful female voice set in, soft as butter and filling the room like the smell of roses. The voice was familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. As Abby sat down, the music came to a crescendo before breaking off, the voice setting in again with a soft

is it a crime?

“Who sings this?” you asked as Abby opened the water bottle and filled your glasses.

“Oh, it’s Sade. She was my dad’s favorite.”

And I want you to want me too, the woman sang, and your eyes met over the table. You swallowed. Was? Not the right time.

“Sade? Oh, she sings Smooth Operator, right? I know that one, but I never checked out more of her music.”

Abby smiled at you and opened the lid of the pot.

“Yeah. This is the Promise album, my favorite. She is a force.”

A wave of steam erupted from the pot and you bent forward to look inside. Thick, roasted wedges of yellow potatoes lay in a bed of orange and purple carrots, mushrooms and tomatoes in a thick brown sauce, a stalk of thyme on top and a bay leaf poking out from the sauce. You weren’t sure if you were drooling, but you didn’t care.

“Abby, oh my God! This is fantastic.”

A spark had lit in her eyes when she heard you say her name. She elegantly stood up again, grabbed a serving spoon, and held out her hand for your plate. You watched her hands again as she plated an array of vegetables for you and used the spoon to draw a little sauce heart on the rim of the plate. Your ribs felt two sizes too small around your chest. This woman was actually going to be the death of you.

“Thanks,” you quietly said and waited as Abby helped herself to a plate. She sat down and gestured toward the small basket with thick slices of grey bread with a dark brown crust.

“Help yourself. Bon appétit.”

After a few moments of eating in comfortable silence before you showered the blonde in an array of compliments, this time not able to refrain from moaning when you bit into a tender, sweet purple carrot, the conversation began to flow. Abby complimented the wine, you talked about your studies, Abby told a few work stories in which both she and Nora were involved, you told her about your close relationship with your brother and she bittersweetly reminisced about her upbringing as an only child with a single dad. It had just been the two of them, moving frequently because of his changing jobs in different hospitals. He had been a neurosurgeon, and a brilliant one at that, but always humble and ready to help wherever he could. Abby sat up straighter when she talked about him, her chest actually swelling with pride when she told you about one time they had rescued an injured horse that had run away and been hit by a car in front of them.

“I think I was 16 back then. It’s one of my favorite memories of him. It actually wasn’t long before…” Her eyebrows moved into a frown and she bit her lip, pushing a small piece of onion around her plate. Fuck, maybe it would have been easier to talk about you, after all.

“We don’t have to talk about it. You can tell me when you’re ready.”

She looked up and you expected to see tears, but her eyes were full of love and her face smoothed out into a gentle smile.

“No, it’s okay. I’m still working on it, and part of my therapy is telling people who don’t know yet. You know, I don’t really have a lot of friends.” She suddenly laughed, easing the tension at the bottom of your lungs. “That sounds stupid, of course I do. I have Manny and Nora and Leah and Jordan and Owen, I guess. But the thing is, they all knew me before. I haven’t really made friends ever since my dad.. passed away. The idea of needing to open up to someone about all this so I can develop a real connection and friendship with them is just a lot to bear.”

“The mortifying ordeal of being known,” you mumbled, more to yourself, crumpling up your napkin in one hand.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, it’s this quote from a New York Times article that has been floating around the internet for a while. ‘If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known’.” You looked up at her and inhaled deeply. “It’s something I’m also terrified of. Although it seems kind of stupid sometimes, because compared to you for example, I don’t really have a good reason.”

Abby looks at you like she’s just discovered something extremely interesting. She takes a sip of her wine before answering, her silver rings blinking at you in the candlelight.

“It’s not at all stupid. I’ve always been very careful with who I open up to, even before my dad died. It’s horrifying, laying yourself bare for a person, putting yourself on a silver plate and handing it to them and saying there, now do with it what you wish. Maybe they’ll look at it and say no, thanks. Maybe they’ll call everyone and say hey, look at this mad woman with her twisted insides, isn’t that funny? Maybe they’ll see it and think, I can do this, and then after a few years they suddenly realize they actually can’t and you’re way too much and so they leave for someone with a more simple, prettier silver plate. Maybe they’ll even take a few pieces with them as they go.”

She didn’t sound bitter as she said it, and she didn’t look terribly sad either, more as if she was making an observation about something she was mildly interested in. You didn’t know what to say except for show me your silver plate, please show me your all, and I will devour it, savor it, keep it with me forever. But you stayed silent, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“I’m quite the handful, am I? Sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown all this” - she gestured toward herself - “at you during our first date.” Then her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. “Fuck, sorry, I just assumed… you probably don’t…”

Finally, movement came back into you. You jumped from your chair and were next to her in a few paces. She lifted a hand and you took it in yours.

“Of course this is a date,” you said gently and smiled at her. “Otherwise why would I have been this nervous for the past three days, thinking of nothing but you, constantly checking my phone to see if you texted me? And I brought red wine, come on.” That brought a smile to her face. She chuckled lightly.

“So I haven’t just ruined everything?” The hope in her eyes was mixed with real, honest fear.

“No, of course not. I’m glad you’re being open with me. You know, I planned not to reveal too much about myself tonight, fearing I would scare you away or say something stupid and make you suddenly lose interest.”

The current song ended and a soft, funky beat came on. There it was again, that twinkle in Abby’s eyes. Your hands were still clasped around hers and she made no move to pull back.

“Well, now I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me. Lay it on me. Over dessert, maybe?”

You raised your eyebrows.

“There’s dessert? You’re going to have to roll me out of here later.”

She laughed, warm and genuine, and the pride you had felt back in The Closet filled your chest again. You would do anything just to be the one to make her laugh every day for the rest of your life. She got up and you both started clearing the table together.

Never going to know

What fate is going to blow

Your way, just hope that it feels right

Could that Sade lady be any more on the nose? You risked a glance at Abby, who was smiling to herself. You followed her into the kitchen and she opened the fridge to produce a large glass dish, showing the several layers of biscuit and white cream, topped with dark cacao.

“Tiramisu? Seriously Abby, how much time did you spend in the kitchen today?”

She gave you a crooked grin before exiting the kitchen.

“Took the day off.”

You just sighed and went back into the dining room.

Such a fine time as this

“Here.” Abby handed you a small plate with a piece of her gourmet tiramisu. Your fingers brushed against each other and you both paused for just the blink of an eye.

What could equal the bliss

The thrill of the first kiss

You sat down and grabbed the small fork left next to your wine glass. On second thought, you took another sip of Merlot. It really was exquisite.

“Buon’ appetito,” you said and sliced off a perfect edge of tiramisu. The soft, coffee-drenched biscuit fell apart on your tongue, mixing with the heavy vanilla-flavored mascarpone. “Did you know where the name tiramisu comes from?”

Abby lifted her fork to her mouth and softly closed her lips around the piece of creamy dessert. You were entranced, watching her hand sink down to the table again, then her jaw moving and flexing as she chewed. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and you cleared your throat, taking another piece on your fork.

“ Tira mi su is Italian for ‘pull me down’. It’s the last thing you eat after dinner and the thing that makes you tired, pulls you right into the food coma. In restaurants, it rounds off the meal and guests will probably leave in the following hour because they feel they’re ready to go home.”

Never as good as the first time

Natural as the way we came to be

“Oh,” Abby said, her voice quiet. She looked up at you through dark lashes. “And are you going home after this?”

“No.” You said it without thinking, only knowing what was true in your heart. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m glad.” Taking a deep breath, Abby straightened up, then reached a hand across the table, her palm facing up. You stared at it for a fraction of a second before placing your hand in hers, feeling something fall into place inside you. The glances you exchanged said so much more than you could possibly dare to say out loud right now.

You used your free hand to stab the last piece of tiramisu. This time it was Abby who was watching you with hungry eyes as the fork vanished between your lips and emerged clean.

“This tiramisu could be the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life,” you said after swallowing and Abby’s fingers twitched ever so slightly around your hand.

“Thank you. I’m really into French and Italian cuisine, as you may have noticed.”

You leaned back in your chair, careful not to pull back your hand.

“I couldn’t do it, honestly. Spending so much time in the kitchen. Especially not with a job like yours, on your feet all day. I’d probably survive off of pasta and takeout.”

Abby smiled and began slowly drawing circles on the back of your hand with her thumb. You were already hyper-aware of how your blood rushed through every vein of your body, a side-effect of the red wine, but now it came to a roar in your ears.

“I guess I need some kind of hobby besides lifting weights. It calms me down. And it’s not just about the end result, about getting to eat something, but also about picking the right ingredients, taking my time cutting them up, trying new recipes with new flavors, and learning more about food and culture, and honestly about myself. It’s like meditating.”

“That sounds…” you were at a loss for words, “unbelievable? I’ve never heard someone talk about cooking like that. And I’ve never felt that way about it, too. I guess I’d like to, though. It sounds nice.”

Abby brushed her thumb over your knuckles.

“Well, I could show you.” You tilted your head slightly. “I mean, we could cook together. Next time. If you want to?”

Sade’s voice, smooth as polished wood and dripping with honey cut into the moment.

How could I have doubted

Honey, it's with me that you belong

“Yeah, I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”

“Do you like lasagna? We could make a vegetable lasagna and substitute the meat for soy. I could show you how to make a béchamel.”

You laughed and squeezed her hand.

“I love lasagna, although I have no idea what a beshmel is.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Abby’s face was glowing with happiness.

As the last two songs of the album played, you helped Abby clean up the table. You got into an argument about doing the dishes - Abby said she’d do it later but you insisted you would do them now or at least help because so far you had not lifted a finger.

“Come on, Abby, please let me help?” You tried your best doe eyes at her. She grinned and playfully slapped your upper arm.

“Okay. But I’ll put on different music.”

She vanished to the dining room while you began filling the sink with water. A high note filled the room before a man spoke.

You broke my heart / 'Cause I couldn't dance

You didn't even want me around

And now I'm back / To let you know

I can really shake 'em down

Abby stepped into your field of vision. The music set in, a delightful 60’s rock and roll melody, and Abby began dancing toward you with tiny steps and shaking shoulders. She was lip synching to the coarse voice of the singer and reaching out her hands for you. Snapping out of your frozen position, you shook your head, grabbed her hands, and were immediately twirled through the kitchen. A squeak escaped you as Abby pulled you back toward her and with another pirouette, you almost slammed into her chest. You both laughed out loud, continuing to dance through the kitchen with big, overexaggerated moves, flailing your arms and shuffling your feet across the tile.

I can do the twist

Now, tell me baby

Do you like it like this?

You quickly began singing along to the simple lyrics and both of you were giggling at each other’s dance moves. The next song was Stand By Me and you both settled down, beginning to clean the pots and dishes. You did the washing while Abby dried off the pieces you gave her and put them back into the right cupboards. Both of you were swaying and humming along to the music.

During the second chorus, both of you began belting along, filling the kitchen with the wonderfully familiar sound of slightly drunk women singing together. As the song ended, you both comically froze and waited for the next song to set in. When it was La Bamba by Ritchie Valens, you both continued singing along and showing off some probably terrible salsa moves. You were done in no time and Abby took your hand, pulling you into the dining room and sliding across the wooden floors with you. Your stomach hurt from laughing and you couldn’t stop smiling.

Next came the bittersweet Be My Baby by the Ronettes, a song you remembered from your childhood, vague memories of your parents slow dancing together after another terrible fight. You swallowed down the hint of bitterness creeping up from your stomach. Instead, you looked up at Abby, almost a full head taller than you, and dared yourself to step forward. You placed your right hand in Abby’s and your left on her tricep, coming unbearably and exhilaratingly close. Abby put her hand on your back, right below your shoulder blade, warming you through the fabric of your shirt. Your faces were incredibly close, her breath warm on your nose, and you could have counted every single freckle on her beautiful face. There was a slim ring of gold around her pupil, complimenting the green of her iris. She was breathtaking.

You couldn’t take this any longer. Should you kiss her? Everything inside you wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close the last inch of distance. It felt like wanting to do a handstand but pulling back at the last second every time because of a deep fear of failing and hurting yourself. It was terribly frustrating.

Instead, you leaned your head against the round muscle of Abby’s shoulder, turning your face toward her chest and pressing your temple to her collarbone. You could smell the herbs she had used to cook earlier in the fabric of her shirt, but her skin smelled like pine and something else, earthy and dark, like tree bark or wool. Abby rested her chin against your forehead and her low hum of contentment vibrated against your cheek.

A light waltz melody began, Unchained Melody, a song you knew from some commercial and had listened to for a few weeks straight after.

I need your love

God speed your love to me

You smiled to yourself and could sense Abby was doing the same. You kept slowly turning, dancing through the candle-lit room and swaying side to side. The band set in louder and you lifted your head again. Abby’s eyes were fixed to yours, but you couldn’t stop yours from wandering lower, finding those perfectly pink lips, hanging open ever so slightly. Your hand wandered upward, along her shoulder, and to the back of her neck. As the last verse of the song began, you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against her. Abby inhaled sharply, her fingers spreading on your back and pressing against your skin. You gently pressed your lips to hers again and this time, she kissed you back. You dug your fingertips into the back of her neck, desperately wanting to come closer, to pull her down to you, hell, you would climb her like a tree if you had to.

Feeling courageous, you stuck your tongue out and ran the tip upward over her lips. Abby instantly reacted, opening her mouth for you and greeting your tongue with hers. She tasted like wine and cacao, and faintly like thyme. Releasing your hand, she wrapped her arms around your waist. You reached up and buried your hand in her hair. She gasped into your mouth. You tucked that sound away for later, swearing to yourself you would make her do it again as often as you could.

A few seconds of silence between songs were disrupted by your wonderfully frivolous wet kissing sounds and a small whine that escaped you when Abby’s hand wandered lower to cup your ass. The first guitar chords of Nights In White Satin vibrated through the air and Abby grabbed you tightly before lifting you off the ground and wrapping your legs around her hips. She carried you over to the dining table and set you down.

The dramatic crescendo in the song you loved so much began.

And I love you

Yes I love you

Oh, how I love you

The singer’s voice filled every corner of the room, his declaration hovering above you, the high voices of the background singers ringing in your ears and Abby’s hands everywhere, her body leaning over you, her hips pressed between your legs. You flexed your legs to pull her in closer, almost falling apart when Abby let out a low moan and rocked her hips forward against you. Then she suddenly slowed down and broke the kiss.

“Wait, let’s talk for a second.”

You kept your legs clamped around her, but relaxed back a little, brushing back a strand of hair from her forehead and giving her an encouraging nod to go ahead.

“I haven’t… I’m not that experienced with - with women. And generally. And I don’t want to rush things and do something wrong and lose you. I don’t really know how this works and I want to do it right.”

Her hands on your waist tightened slightly. You gave her a shy smile.

“Me neither. I’m scared, too.” You surprised yourself with your openness. “How about we take this slow, then? Talk about everything openly? And just go one step at a time?”

Abby nodded and pulled you closer again.

Holding Back The Years began playing.

“One kiss at a time.” She gave you a gentle peck on the lips.

“Oh, really? I would have never picked you as the sappy type,” you laughed against her lips.

“You wouldn’t?” She acted shocked. “Let me remind you of how I took the day off to cook a gourmet french dish for you.”

“True.” You shrugged and pulled her in for another kiss. “It’s probably the muscles. With those guns, you can do anything and still be taken seriously.”

Abby snorted and you realized that had been the wine talking. For a second, you were mortified, then she scooped you up again, holding your body with one arm as she ran her free hand through your hair.

“Oh, those? You know, they’re specifically for carrying you around all day. Anything for my - princess.” You had very well noticed the little pause there, but you decided not to say anything yet. Instead, you lifted your chin and eyebrows, imitating what you thought a royal would look like.

“Well, what does that make you? You’re obviously not a prince. My lady knight?”

Abby nodded solemnly.

“Sworn to protect and defend you. And to carry you wherever.”

“Well, do you have a sofa you could carry me to?” You tightened your hold on her shoulders and leaned in closer again.

“Of course, my lady.”

Abby carried you through a doorway at the back of the dining room into a cozy living room, equipped with a large sofa and a gigantic flatscreen tv, two vintage armchairs, a wooden bookshelf with at least 100 books, and a desk facing the window, medical books spread across the surface. The blonde sat down on the sofa and you knelt left and right of her hips, straddling her as you gave her another soft kiss.

“You know,” you began, “I’ve been crushing on you for months now. I thought you had absolutely no interest in me. I didn’t even know you liked women.”

Abby’s eyes widened at your confession.

“Shit, I had no idea. You weren’t exactly forward, you know. The first time we met, you already had this pull on me. But you were so shy and I didn’t want to jump you or annoy you, so I tried to keep my distance and wait if you would come around.”

“You have Leah to thank for that. Me coming around. I kind of forgot to come out to her until karaoke night and she told me you were dating women as well. She knows I’ve been a hopeless case when it comes to you, but she wanted me to figure this out on my own.”

Abby thought about this for a second.

“Yeah, Leah probably only told you because she knew I liked you, too. I haven’t been that open about dating women in the past, just because talking about dating in general was weird with Owen and Mel around and I also just don’t like everyone knowing my personal business.”

“I get that.” You nodded. “As I said, I hadn’t even been out to Leah. Mostly because I haven’t dated anyone in forever and the last time was a disaster not worth talking about.” You winced at the memory.

“You wanna tell me anyway?”

You thought about it for a second, then you climbed off Abby’s lap and laid down on the sofa, resting your head on her thigh. Her fingers immediately began brushing through your hair and massaging your scalp.

“Well, I met this girl during a freshman party at a sorority house the weekend before my first semester in college,” you began. You had felt weirdly out of place, but were determined to speak to at least one person. A few hours and an almost-lethal amount of tequila later, the girl you had talked to all night had dragged you into one of the bedrooms. You both had no previous experience, were extremely drunk and it was already 5am. You had fun making out and were both eager to try more, but it had been more out of curiosity than desire for each other and so the experience had not ended in the expected bliss of lesbian sex. Rather, she had come pretty quickly and afterward she'd begun crying and told you she had a boyfriend, and you had gotten dressed and fled the house. After that, dating in college was not really something you thought about much.

Abby listened to your story with interest and sympathy, laughing at a few parts and stroking your hair as you told her about the end of that fateful night. She felt deeply sorry for your experience of strangeness and betrayal, immediately promising to you that she would always tell you what was going on inside her head and what she wanted.

“Like you just did,” you smiled at her. “That was brave. It’s what I should have done that night.”

“I mean, I had a few weird moments, too, before I learned to speak my mind.” Abby’s gaze unfocused and she frowned as she clearly recalled some not very pleasant memories.

“Wanna tell me, too?” you asked, keeping your voice light. She nodded, looking down at you again.

“I mean, there's Owen, obviously. That didn’t work out well and now he is with Mel, leaving me wondering if he was interested in her while we were still together. After we broke up, Nora and I went on a little bender.” Your heart jumped into your throat. Did Abby and Nora...? A wave of jealousy rose from the bottom of your stomach, but you forced yourself to keep your calm, smiling at Abby as she continued.

“We spent every weekend at a different bar, and one of them was actually at The Closet. Nora was making out with a woman in actual overalls” - she snorted - “and I just hung out at the bar, drinking Long Islands and not brave enough to make eye contact with anyone. And then the bartender started talking to me.”

Suddenly realization dawned on you. You sat up and stared at Abby.

“Wait, Ellie? The short-haired one?”

Abby grimaced.

“Yeah. We talked for a while and I came back the next week with Leah and Jordan. They didn’t even notice I was spending a lot of time at the bar. Ellie and I met for coffee a few days later and I mentioned my dad and she got really quiet and strange. Turns out, she’s related to the guy that murdered my dad, so...”

You were pretty sure your heart stopped for a moment, all the air in your chest building up pressure as you tried to figure out how to breathe out. Abby noticed and gently guided you to lay back down, continuing to weave her fingers into your hair.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’ll tell you the whole story another time. So yeah, Ellie and I. It was horrible, but we still stayed and talked for a while. She couldn’t tell me a lot about what happened, but she had no idea that I even existed and she was about to have a panic attack over it all. I helped her calm down and then she felt terrible for reacting so badly when it should be me panicking and I just told her that there’s nothing any of us can do now and we should probably leave it at that.” She sighed. “I hadn’t been to The Closet until a few days ago. I only came because I knew you’d be there.”

“Fuck, that’s terrible,” you mumbled. “I don’t think I could have gone back there. I’m still glad you did, though.”

“Me too,” Abby said, her voice gentle and honest. She leaned down to kiss you, deeply and passionately.

You stayed on the sofa for the next few hours, talking about school crushes and gay awakenings, about women constantly hitting on Abby and her being confused for a long time. She told you more about her relationship with Mel and you started to actually resent that woman. Who did she think she was? You told Abby about living with Leah and about your current research projects and she listened intently, asking a lot of questions about the art you were analyzing. You began diving into queer art and Sappho and your theory on the different languages of different social groups. Abby actually gave you some great new ideas and some good questions you couldn’t yet answer and you were actually beginning to look forward to writing tomorrow.

As the clock moved past midnight, it became clear you would have to leave at some point soon. Abby had to get up at 7 in the morning for a 10-hour shift, and you had stifled one too many yawns. You were cuddled up on the couch, kisses interchanging with long, deep conversations and more kisses.

“I can accompany you to the station,” Abby suggested as you looked up the departure times on your phone.

“You don’t have to. That’s sweet of you, but I’ll find the way.” You kissed her for her generosity, but she pulled back.

“Honestly. I don’t want you walking alone. I’ll go with you.” A sheepish smile appeared on her face and she did a tiny bow. “My lady.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, making your way to the entrance hall. Abby gently helped you into your coat and put on a black bomber jacket, a strange but hot combination with her fancy pants. She opened the door for you and you stepped out into the cold night together.

You held hands on the way to the station, stopping at every corner to make out, laughing together, and making plans for your lasagna night. You would come over on Thursday, promising to yourself you would finish all your coursework until then. Manny would come back on Friday, so you’d have the house to yourself again.

You arrived at the station way too soon, but your train was announced to arrive in two minutes. Heavy-hearted, you flung your arms around the tall blonde and she wrapped hers around your waist, lifting you up for another deep kiss.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” she whispered against your lips.

“I’ll even dress up next time,” you mumbled and she grinned at you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but jeans and a t-shirt. I’m excited.” Well, now you had to go shopping. Leah would be delighted to go with you.

You pressed a last kiss to Abby’s lips before unwrapping yourself from her arms as the train rolled into the station. As you stepped away, she caught your hand and pulled you back for another one, cheekily running her tongue over your bottom lip. You sighed and kissed her hand, wrapped firmly around yours, before stepping back and boarding the train. You waved at her through the window as you departed and watched her stand on the platform until she was out of sight.

Letting yourself fall into one of the seats, you pulled out your phone and texted your brother.

-We kissed!!!! Call me when you can

Then you texted Leah about shopping tomorrow, just able to send the text before your phone vibrated with a new message.

-You looked beautiful tonight. I’m the luckiest person in the world.

You tried to keep your squeal as quiet as possible. A woman a few seats ahead of you briefly looked up from her phone.

-Can’t believe I have a personal knight who will carry me wherever I want to go

The reply came in seconds.

-Anywhere and anything you want. Text me when you’re home!

-Can I text you before I’m home? I miss you already :(

You had to wait a few minutes before your phone vibrated again. This time, Abby was calling.

“Sorry, I was cleaning up and getting ready for bed.” She sounded a bit breathless.

“No worries,” you said. “What are you wearing for bed?”

Abby let out a surprised laugh.

“Really, now?”

“I’m serious. I want to imagine being with you.”

“Well, I’m wearing a gigantic black t-shirt with a ton of holes and boxers.”

You closed your eyes, envisioning Abby’s thighs straining against the hem of her shorts and the soft cotton of her shirt that you could bury your face in. She would smell like nature and like home somewhere far away.

“I wish I was there.” You noticed you were sounding desperate. Fucking hell, were you about to turn into a 13-year-old? You could hear the smile in Abby’s voice when she spoke.

“I wish you were here with me, too.” She paused for a moment. Then, “Do you want to sleep over on Thursday?”

“Uhm -” you had to think for a second, remembering you only had dinner plans for Friday with your mom. Before you could answer, Abby cut in again

“Fuck, am I rushing you? I didn’t mean - I just thought it would be nice, falling asleep together. But I totally get if that’s -”

“Abby! Of course I want to stay over!” You clenched your free hand into a fist, punching your thigh a few times in order to divert the explosion of energy inside your chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Abby’s shaky laugh was heart-wrenching. “I thought I messed up already.”

You stood up to exit at your station.

“No, not at all. I’d love to fall asleep with you.”

The way to your apartment was over faster than you wanted it to be.

“I’m home now. I think I should hang up, Leah is probably sleeping.”

“Yeah, don’t wake the monster.” Abby chuckled.

“Good night, Abby. Tonight was incredible.”

“Good night, Y/N. You’re incredible. Sleep tight.”

Author's note: Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! If you'd like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #the last of us 2 #tlou abby #abigail anderson #abby fic #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson fanfiction #ellie #ellie tlou #leah tlou #jordan tlou #owen moore #owen x mel #mel tlou #owen tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader

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blysse-and-blunder · 2 years

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in lieu of a housemas holiday gathering

7:50pm, sunday, dec 12, 2021

am i 100% ready to fly home on tuesday? no! am i spending today entirely on recreational movies / dnd / meals with friends? yeah.

reading god i have no idea what i've been reading. trying to continue and finish the sunne in splendour, there's a slightly weird romantic scandal subplot happening. also trying to keep an eye on the ebook loan of terry pratchett's sourcery, which i got as a filler comfort read for bedtimes.

watching been watching more succession (up to 2.03 so far, sorry @raulsparza! will alert you when i hit 2.04!) and wheel of time (that 1.05 made me so emosh wtf), but no thoughts on these apart from the continued enjoyment. we made our housemate who hadn't seen it watch the grand budapest hotel with us today. it's always so interesting to revisit things you first saw years and years ago, and frankly this held up for me in a lot of ways-- the twee aesthetic combined with sudden irreverent or wry or absurd or dark humor is, like, my catnip. this remains a moment of delight:

"You see, there are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed that's what we provide in our own modest, humble, insignificant... . . ...oh, fuck it."

listening revisiting some old playlists from the last two years which are rich in stomp 'n holler and new americana and shit, because they feel like old friends and also get my energy up without distracting me too much. having the worst time trying to track down whatever song contains a certain line about frames of mind-- this is the problem with shuffle/spotify radio suggestions-- but this ivan & alyosha song has been speaking to me this week a lot, the group-sing vibe in the chorus, the high-energy combined with the jaunty (and arguably kinda well-adjusted attitude to failure) in the lyrics "searching for my trouble, but my trouble finds me/ everybody breaks, everybody breaks, everybody breaks sometime" have just lately been very good to me, personally.

playing i'm literally at dnd right now, and while we've been in the same combat for three sessions and are taking hours to fight through some draugr, i never laugh harder than i do with these people. it's the last time we'll be able to play in person for probably a month (maybe longer bc omicron hahahahaha fuck) and it's...it's good.

making i said earlier today 'i've sort of gotten off the baking train,' and my housemate was like '... you literally made a pie this week.' and i was like :shocked pikachu face: oh yeah. i did do that! it honestly didn't feel like it counted in my head, because it was so little effort. i had frozen pastry ready from thanksgiving, and (i discovered) frozen pie filling leftover from the summer. and i was wrangling student participation grades and mourning the possibility of having to fail some lovely folks because they hadn't submitted their shit, and the best answer to this did seem to be to make pie about it. which was great, because then there was strawberry-rhubarb pie in the chill of december, a glow of warmth and breath of summer.

working on three more projects in one class to grade, probably 20 essays in the other one. four late essays already graded, 40+ participation/comprehension grades already entered, which only took like 10 hours because the busy work system worked out by this prof should be outlawed by the geneva convention tbh.... but one way or another it's almost over!! i have a three+ hour flight on tuesday to spend grading, and...i would ideally get my diss proposal sent to the faculty concerned before i take off fuuuuuuuuck but that's a problem for monday me. i do feel like the high intensity switch flipped on wednesday last week, where i stopped panicking and started just... going, and if that keeps up at least until the end of the week, i'll be so fucking grateful.

#in lieu of a commonplace book #ilcb #food #bit of a panini mention sry #fucking off to the bosom of the family on tuesday wish me luck #so obviously i'm 5% packed and 75% stressed #but today has been full of delights so! it's probably fine?#Spotify

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years

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College AU Week 1 Day 3 - Evgeni Kolpakov

A/N: I have never written for Evgeni but I kind of love the way this turned out. Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking. This is day three of the January AU Writing challenge/300 follower celebration!

* I posted a video I listened to while writing this if you wanted to listen while you read. It helped inspire me.

Pairing: Evgeni Kolpakov X G.N Reader (please let me know if I missed any pronouns)

Warning: I don’t think anything, it’s pretty romantic/fluffy.

My Masterlist

My computer crashed, and you're the student worker at the IT center.

Most people would be happy to have a night off from work. Ordinary people who don't go to school all day, spending their evenings at the IT center troubleshooting with students who've procrastinated their assignments. Shouting at you because their computer has decided to crash or their internet in their dorm has failed. Honestly, any person who works in customer service would be happy with a night off and away, but not you. Not since he first called.

You sigh, thinking of the way his voice makes you hum in the squeaky rolling chair you find yourself perched on nightly. The Russian accent thick and shooting straight through your core as he talks to you about everything and nothing, making your heart beat faster. Evgeni, the enigma from your work who never failed to call you every evening for the past month; you'd never seen him, nothing more than a voice on the phone. His words honey to your ears as he makes you laugh. You want to know him. You have to know him.

"Hey! Are you okay there? You seemed really out of it," your friend Charlotte looks concerned until you smile and embrace her outside the club.

"Oh, I'm okay just thinking about someone," you pull back, and she grins.

"Oh, is this about the mysterious caller that has your brain in a tizzy? Are you missing him already?" she teases, and you nod. The smell of cigarettes and cheap perfume waft onto the darkened street outside the piano bar. The ivories' tickling makes you think of Evgeni and how some nights he would play his piano over the phone. He was a very talented player, and you dreamed of hearing him play in person. The way his hands would move across the keys as he would coax the sweet music from them.

Charlotte taps you on the shoulder and points to the bar, "I'm sure he can survive without you for one evening."

"He wasn't able to call tonight; he had a prior engagement."

"He plays the piano, right?"

"Yes." You see the wheels turning in her head as she points towards the bar, "No, he didn't mention that he was playing anywhere tonight, just that he had something and wouldn't be able to call." You open the door and step inside, her following close behind. The bar is lit up on one wall with a single spotlight on the small stage. A black baby grand piano sits atop it, and the sounds of the keys sing to your heart.

You walk over to the bartender, order a gin and tonic and take a seat at a two-seater towards the middle of the club. Taking a moment to soak in the music before you observe the player. He's handsome in a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; the chords in his arms shine under the light. He's got on a black fedora, but you can see the hint of a buzz cut underneath. His face with a light speckling of stubble just beginning to form—smoke curling from the ashtray perched on the top and a half-drunken glass of red wine.

As the piece comes to a close, you feel yourself in a slow trance. The world around you slowing down as the music fades, and he does a small bow of his head as the crowd erupts into applause. You sit there frozen as he reaches for the cigarette, pulling drag and holding it between his fingers. Almost as if he can feel the magnetic pull, he looks up into your eyes, and you drown in the deep brown of his own. Lips parting on a small gasp when his gaze sears into your soul and ignites the fire in your blood.

He leans towards the microphone, "Thank you, everyone, for this next piece…" but you stop listening as your heart stops. You would know that voice anywhere. It's the voice you'd heard every single day for the last month, the one who colors your dreams. The voice you dream of as you touch yourself at night, wishing it was really him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

***********

One Month Ago

The phone rings more than you would believe for an evening IT department, and you pick up on the second ring already opening the form to fill out for the request. "Thank you for calling the NYU IT department helpline; this is Y/N; how can I help you?"

"Yes, hello, my computer keeps crashing when I try to submit an assignment," a man with a deep Russian accent coos in your ear.

"Okay, and have you tried turning it on and off again?" He sighs and agrees, going through all the usual motions of a phone call this late.

"Well, it would seem to be an issue with the server, I will put in a work order request for the IT department heads to take a look, and they will get back to you within 24-48 hours."

He let out a groan, "But I need to submit the assignment tonight. Listen, I am not some privileged child who waited until the last minute to submit the assignment. I take night classes for business and work all day as a security guard. I really need to get this turned in on time. Please, there must be something you can do." Something about the tone in his voice gives you pause.

"Maybe…" you try to think, "maybe I can send your professor a formal message from the IT department and submit your assignment for you. Can you email it to me?"

He agrees, and he scrambles for a pencil, writing down your email and quickly sending it off. His name pops up a few minutes later, Evgeni Kolpakov. "Evgeni? Where are you from?"

You can hear the amusement in his tone when he says, "Vermont."

You let out a chuckle, "Vermont really?"

"A refugee camp in Vermont," oh shit, you try to apologize, but he lets out a laugh, "It's okay. Vermont is full of surprises, you know."

"Oh really now," you finish composing the email and attach his essay before sending it, "done, it's sent." He lets out a relieved breath.

"Thank you so much," he chuckles, "what do I owe you for the trouble?"

"Tell me more about Vermont," you smile and lean back as he fills you with stories of his childhood. You spend two hours on the phone, and when you look at the clock and gasp, he quickly apologizes.

"I'm sorry about taking so much of your time...but I'm not sorry for talking to you," you can hear him put something down in the background, and you sigh.

"I'm not either," you whisper, "this has been one of the best nights I've ever had at this job."

He chuckles, "You mean the universities IT department is not a bustling hub of excitement during the evening?"

You laugh, "No...would you," you know you shouldn't ask, but you can't help yourself, "would you call again if you had any other problems?" I work ten to four in the morning this week."

"I promise," his voice gets more profound as you hold your breath, "I will call back tomorrow with another problem if only to talk to you again."

You tremble at his tone and hang up with a longing, "I'll be waiting."

***********

Present Day

"Evgeni," you whisper under your breath, but it's almost like he can hear as his head snaps up and looks at you again. His hands are poised above the keys, and he smiles.

"This is for you," he whispers and makes love to you through the music. A personal symphony just for you as his fingers caress the keys like the ways of a lover.

You listen, transfixed eyes never leaving him, your drink, Charlotte, and the world around you fading into nothing until it's just you and him alone. The music swarms around you, and you feel yourself rising slowly towards him as the song ends and the cheers of the crowd flow. But you don't care as he stands and holds out a hand for you to take, leading you outside and into the fresh air. The chill December evening shocks you back into reality.

The feeling of his jacket, he grabbed draped over your shoulder as he rests his forehead against your own, and you feel the rough exterior against your back. "It's you," he whispers, and you feel his moist breath upon your lips.

"It's you," you reply before closing the distance between you and sealing your lips together in a kiss that is soft and gentle. He groans, placing his hands on your cheeks and pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. You feel alive and consumed by him as he takes control and melds you to him, caressing you like his fingers caressed the keys on the baby grand.

When he pulls away, you both smile, "I've been waiting for you," he whispers against your lips.

"Oh Evgeni, I've been waiting for you too." The long days of waiting for the phone to ring are long gone as your fantasies and realities bleed together to make one complete vision. Love.

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @chicken-ona-stick @phoenixhalliwell @letoartreiides

Tagging some extra people who may be interested (I hope that’s okay, let me know if not): @writefightandflightclub @tinygaydemonbby @itspdameronthings @damerondjarin @wasicskosgirl

I listened to this while writing if you wanna listen while reading:

youtube

#evgeni kolpakov #evgeni kolpakov x reader #January Writing Challenge #W.E AU #W.E #Oscar Isaac #300 follower celebration #Autumn Writes

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the-resurrection-3d · 3 years

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august writing wrap-up

I just want it on record that I never doubted how big Miss Augustine’s strap was.

I don’t even know where to start. My career continues to take off and all my heroes continue to reveal themselves as total losers.

God, what all happened this month. Well, just writing wise:

Got accepted to the Orlando conference. Still gotta figure out how to fit researching for that into my schedule, but whatever, we’ll get it done. Honestly I could teach a whole fucking semester on Wintergirls right now, but I don’t have enough theory to really support a whole presentation, you feel me? But whatever. I’ll get it done.

Best of the Net nomination. Girl how.

Two story acceptances! One of which should be coming out today! Technically they haven’t gotten back to my initial “yes this piece is still available also please let me suck you” email, but considering my last pub literally forgot to pay me, I’m going to assume they just got overwhelmed by other things. If it comes out, it comes out, and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.

Not sure when the other will be coming out. Their subs just closed on Aug 31. So we’ll see.

Finally submitted the Jonah essay to a new place! Less than two hours before the deadline closed <3

wrote 26, 155 words! Which brings up my total for the year to 141, 029!

Technically August’s number should be a lil higher, considering I also sat down and just cranked out a huge luberto angst scene at 11pm, but I didn’t finish until after midnight, so September gets to start off on a solid 1.3k.

I have that fic scaffolded now, and I’ll try to iron it out when I can. I have an exam, an essay, and funeral shit this week. So we’ll just have to see what happens, but I really want to start digging into the true meat of the grammar of violence project. At this point, if I don’t get something out soon, I’m going to become the fucking Joker.

An excerpt:

Another dry, shuddering sob. Alberto removes his fists from his eyes to stare up at the hangnail moon above them. All I’ve ever wanted, he says, voice thick and quivering with the last of his restraint, was to make you happy. And protect you. I just—all those years I thought you didn’t want me back, I just—it just hurt so badly. He barks another laugh. It was actually kinda worse than my dad leaving, because at least I didn’t have to know how much happier he was without me.

#3dwriting

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bnhaclaimedmysoul · 4 years

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how would the boys be around mineta who harasses their crush?

Hi, I could ask headcanons for dadzawa, Todoroki and Bakugou (or Midoriya), defending the reader from Mineta's harassment. Or simply to aizawa defending his adopted daughter from harassment of Mineta? please (If you have already written it or it bothers you, ignore the request.)

Characters: Todoroki, Bakugou, Midoriya

Note: since none of us are comfortable doing age difference requests, we’ll go with aizawa with his adopted daughter -admin z

bakugou katsuki

-he’s a tsundere and it’s already been established 1001 times on this blog

-so he’s going to try and hide his feelings from everyone, no matter what the situation

-when he does eavesdrop on mineta’s conversation

-at first he wouldn’t really care about what he’s saying

-but as he keeps talking

-he feels disgusted and there is no doubt about it

-he will make sure he listens to every single filthy word coming out of his word

-and when he does confront him

-it’s very casual

-it’s eerie that he’s so calm that everyone present would be like

-bruh??? bakugou??? you okay??

-and when he brushes off the concerns of other and faces mineta with the most evil smirk on his face

-the tension in the room just reaches it’s peak

-“mineta? What were you saying???”

-“n-n-nothing really”

-and it’s 2 seconds away from him going boom boom mode

-and expect mineta to be breaking out in cold sweat

-“you dare talk about my crush that way with your filthy mouth? I will make sure to burn your insides”

-and before things get too wild, he remembers how you’d always scold him for taking fights too seriously

-by using his quirk and ho you don’t like that

-with an audible “tch” he places a punch on his tiny ass face, turn and walk away

-and when you confront him about it and ask him about why he didn’t use his quirk

-“what is to you punk? do you want people to talk about you that way?”

-“no, but you could’ve used your quirk”

-and when he’s rendered speechless, you let out a giggle at how cute he was acting

-you lean in and place a small, but firm kiss across his lips

-albeit shocked, he’s a happie blasty boi

-and pull you right back in with the excuse “well, I just saved you. don’t you think I deserve more?”

todoroki shouto

-he’s the guy who has zero chill and zero control

-and fools himself into thinking that he is showing zero signs of anger

-he’s expression shows that he could give a fuck but he chose not to

-but his actions suggest otherwise

-like he’d hear what is coming out of that grape shit’s mouth

-and even before it becomes too long

-mineta would start trembling as he hears the cackling of fire and feels the heat

-because he doesn’t want to hear another word

-“mineta, I suggest you do not talk in such a way or before taking you to aizawa sensei, I will make sure you get hurt”

-he just feels so repulsed by the feeling

-he wants to crawl under his own skin after hearing the vulgar words

-and wonders how you can stand such words coming out of him

-because he certainly can’t listen to your beauty being talked about in such ways

-that over thinking only intensifies his flame

-it’s like mineta turned a switch of hatred within him

-and someone needs to snap him out of it before he goes berserk

-when he sees you, his flames instantly die

-and he’ll close himself up

-and maintain a distance

-because he chose to expose his ugly side to you

-“what is happening todoroki?”

-“nothing y/n-san things just got a bit out of control”

-“a bit? that’s way out of control”

-and when you place your palm underneath his chin and urge him to tell you what’s going on

-he’ll crumble under your touch and will truthfully confess what was going on

-he’s worried you’re repulsed by his actions

-but when you silence him by hugging him out of the blue and placing a kiss on his cheek

-“thank you for protecting me todoroki-san, i couldn’t have asked for more”

-this babie issa happie babie

midoriya izuku

-he another babie

-and he just doesn’t doesn’t want to hear unpretty words about a pretty person

-now as scared midorya seems

-he really ain’t that frail

-over the time, he has gained the courage to stand up for himself and his loved ones

-so when mineta begins talking in the most vulgar way

-in front of him

-even though he clearly knew midoriya’s feelings towards you

-he is disgusted at how low mineta can stoop

-he wants mineta to immediately stop

-because he worries about how you’d be after listening to everything

-and he’s frankly unsure he’d never be able to look at you if he didn’t stop mineta at this point

-so he takes a deep breath

-and approaches him

“Oh midoriya-kun? Want to join in our conversation about how appealing Y/n-chan is?? I understand why you like her, who wouldn’t love that body?”

-and although he was mumbling what words he’d tell mineta

-but when the word “body” reaches his ears

-he loses his control and lands a punch straight to his face

-with tears in his eyes, he looks at the mineta while he was moping over how his cheek stung after the punch

-“don’t’ you ever talk about Y/n that way! She is amazing and beautiful and you’re running her beauty with your inconsiderate words. Do it another time and I wouldn’t hesitate to use my quirk for hurting you next time mineta-kun”

-and when you drop in when he starts his monologue

-you’re awe struck by his sincerity

-and when he’s done

-you throw your arms around his neck and place a firm kiss on his

-although surprised at the intimate contact and the foreign warmth over his lips

-he manages to pull you closer and return the kiss with a fervor you never imagined

-and whenyou finally pull away

-he leans down and rests his forehead over yours and as both of you pant, you utter a small

-“thank you midorya”

-“anything for you”

aizawa shota

-without zero warning

-expect the squirt to be plastered to the wall

-as aizawa unleashes his technique

-“sero give me your tape so that this idiot can never open his filthy mouth again”

-detention for 2 weeks with full time cleaning duties

-and 3 essays submitted to him and nezu sensei

-pleading why he shouldn’t be expelled

-with an apology letter in the neatest handwriting possible

-verifying that his daughter will never have to put up with his shitty antics

-he is there for his baby girl

-and promises that he will continue protecting his daughter from everything and anything

-he’ll go to the lengths of comforting you over a dinner

-and will encourage you to honestly open up

-and when he is finally released from detention

-always expect aizawa to weird stuff to make his daughter and class laugh

-he’ll become the pettiest person alive

-and what do I mean by that?

-he will cancel mineta’s quirk at the most unexpected times

-there’d be a day where y’all go to thirteen’s disaster rescue training dome

-and mineta would be called upon for a demonstration near water area

-and as mineta is in midair, he’ll sneakily cancel his quirk

-so that he falls right into the water and makes sure to give one of the best laughing sessions

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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05. The Rich Kids

AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends. Generally, these could be standalone, but this one will be sequential for the next chapter whenever I get around to posting it. 3359 Words and I will be making a masterlist when I get a chance. Previous

Simon handled the essay for his scholarship exactly how he thought he might. He was NOT okay, but he got the job done. He started with an introduction about why he wasn’t even sure of why he would be accepted into an institution like this school when his life was so ripe with problems, and honestly admitted that he was telling them all of this “for a girl.” He described the way that he met Grace and how important her friendship and being close to her was to him. He used that as a segway of WHY he needed a close friend, being brutally honest about the things that were happening in his life when they met and the things that he had gone through since. He put heavy emphasis on his relationship with his mother and how HE was now caring for her, even though he could see in her eyes that she didn’t care for him, at all.

He wanted to learn from somewhere that could help him to be great. He felt like a jack of all trades, but in a kingdom of shit. He wondered if he could get away with saying shit. He went back and edited it to censor it, but to make it known that she still meant shit. He ended it out with how he didn’t seriously expect them to pick him, even with his GPA being what it was and him having skills in these areas. “But, I have to be able to let my only friend in a lonely world know that I did what I could to stay beside her. This is my best.”

Whenever he submitted it, he spent the next couple of days holed up in his room. He needed recovery time and worked on setting up a scene for his portfolio. His portfolio was turning into something he really loved. He had written pieces - generally inspired by Grace, some artwork of her in various forms, photos of his best figures and the scenes that he would put them in, and other photos from him trying his hand in photography.

He made money by doing people’s homework assignments, and charged more for special projects. But, everybody in school knew that if you wanted a quality A+ project in a hurry, Sci Fi Si was the guy to go to. He wasn’t even teased as much as he used to be. Emphasis on “as much.” And his former bullies? They were terrified to cross him again… or rather, to cross Grace. Simon kept photos of her and the two of them together as a little reminder for that group and as his daily dosage of serotonin while he was stuck at school all day without access to her.

He still was considered a nerd, had a crappy home life that made intrapersonal relationships difficult and unhealthy, meaning he wasn’t great with people and only knew the right things to say for short periods of time, and he was pretty broody and sarcastic. A lot of people didn’t like that. He definitely talked to most people like they were stupid. (Most people were) and he was pretty unapologetic in his convictions. He was like the poster boy of “If you think you’re better than everyone was a person.” He credited Grace for that, to be honest. Whenever you have somebody like that in your world and they’re not only interested in who you are but they like who you are, the rest of these peasants could suck a toe.

Plus, he was smarter than all of them. He had written several books, though unpublished were absolutely splendid, in his opinion, and not just for his age, but period.

Oh yeah - he was cocky.

That was another thing people hated about him.

But, people didn’t matter to him. He did have a secret soft spot for kids, but the ones in his neighborhood avoided him and he’d even heard the rumors that whenever he was younger he killed his kid sister. It hurt at first. It sent him into a crying rage in which he destroyed everything in his path up until the moment his mother emerged from the bathroom to “smack some sense into him.” He avoided children after that. They made him uncomfortable. He wanted the world to be a safe place for them and wanted to protect them, but he didn’t think he was cut out for stuff like that, so steering clear of them was probably best. Besides, they were just… so weak. They were frail. You had to start toughening them up way too young in order for them to be great and he just couldn’t imagine having to be that for anybody. He couldn’t do it for his sister. If she were stronger, maybe she… He programmed himself not to think about her.

Now Grace, she was great with kids, but she wasn’t super fond of them. Like, yeah, she liked to see their smiling faces and generally was able to make them smile, but she wasn’t in a rush to meet any or have any, despite the fact that her dad made her take a course to learn about sexual reproduction and teen pregnancies before letting her go to school. She was horrified to learn about that entire process, especially considering that it had not once even CROSSED her mind!

She saw two married people who had a child every day and their life was nothing she wanted to work towards and certainly nothing she wanted to accidentally catch herself up in.

If she ever did anything like that… She’d have to go through so much getting to know and getting used to someone and that sounded like way too much work, considering she already knew somebody. She knew Simon and that by itself was a lot. Having a best friend was both everything amazing and very exhausting. Her mother told her that whenever she got ready to get married, to make sure she married her best friend, and her father had quickly interjected and corrected the woman by saying to make sure that she married somebody “equal” to her… She had a feeling from both of their moods that neither of them were that for the other. But, no worries there, because she was NEVER getting married.

She was going to dance FOR FUN, maybe open a dance school, or some kind of school, and read books in her free time and go on adventures with Simon that they currently were too stifled to go on. She was gonna be with her best friend for the rest of her life, but not in the unfortunate situation that she saw in her parents. And she knew that Simon would agree to that, because he said that they were a team.

Simon set up the camera that he wasn’t actually supposed to touch, because it was his fathers and while he was away, Simon wasn’t supposed to go into the garage, but he was away and it would be months before they would see him again. That was what he was doing when he heard the notification on his computer. He presumed it was something that Grace sent him, so he rushed to check, and it wasn’t. It was the Dean… setting up an appointment… because he was accepted… He hurried to get that squared away and then called Grace to let her know.

“Yayyy! Another adventure together! I KNEW you could do it, Simon!” She cheered.

“I couldn’t have done it without your idea,” he said.

He didn’t add, “Even if it ripped my heart out to do it that way,” and she didn’t hear it in his silence; because she replied, “I think you’ve known me long enough to know that I’ve never been wrong, ever in my life, and if I have - It. Didn’t. Happen.” He laughed a little bit. “Look forward to more outstanding quotes on a daily basis, when we’re seeing each other AT SCHOOL!” She was SO excited. She had put together as many acceptable options that fell within the dress code of the uniform but also with a little of her own flair, and she worked on getting her schedule filled. Simon had to do all of that whenever he went in. because he admitted that he didn’t really know what to do and so the administration helped him out with it.

Simon would make the trek to Grace’s every morning and ride to the school with her in the car. Four years after meeting her, he still knew her drivers better than her parents, because they either were never around or he wasn’t over when they were. She still hadn’t seen his mother at all outside of photos and every time she saw his father (a whopping 3 times in the past 4 years), he looked different. A few more tattoos, a little more or less hair on his head or face. It was still just Grace and Simon by the time they got to the academy.

The first week of school was extremely different for both of them for different reasons...

Grace found that people were apparently “naturally drawn” to her, and in an effort to not let them down, she became very popular, very quickly. She made sure that whenever she saw Simon, she made room for him though. She’d call his name and wave him over. He hated groups of people, but she had been surrounded by them since Day 1, so he had to tolerate them.

Sometimes, if he looked like he wasn’t okay, or if they talked about a current issue he was having on the ride over, she’d tell the others, “I’ll have to get with you all later. Today is a Simon day.” It always made him feel good. Warm inside and cozy and a little fluttery… Stuff that he became severely aware of. She caused reactions in him that he hadn’t previously experienced. He always thought that she was pretty and out together nicely and smelled really pleasant, but like, now…

Not just his brain but other parts were starting to respond to those characteristics. And, he became dangerously aware that a lot of the other boys noticed her like that too. Know who didn’t seem aware? About any of it?? Grace.

Whenever the Fall Festival rolled around, she was the girl that everybody wanted to take to the dance, even upperclassmen. She was the girl that the girls wondered about what kind of dress she’d wear. She was the girl that the dance teacher asked if she wanted to open up the dance with a waltz. “I don’t know how to waltz,” she had said. After all of her years of dance, the teacher was stunned. She wanted to teach her before the dance. She said that she had the perfect partner to pair her with. “Oh, no no no no… I only have one person that I would be dance partners with,” she’d said.

Simon wasn’t keen on being dragged into this, BUT it did mean that some other guy wasn’t going to be dancing with her… for now. Who knew WHO would ask her to dance at the actual dance, which he tried to convince her would be boring and that they should skip it.

She would have loved to just go to the pumpkin patch after school, pick a few pumpkins to carve and make treats and cozy up with him for a movie night… but, she had to go to this dance! There was a lot of pressure on her to go and she was fueled by pressure and the stress of letting people down. So, the compromise here was that Simon could skip it if he wanted to, and they’d do the pumpkin patch thing the next day. “Even though I’d much rather you come to the dance with me,” she said, with a pouting face.

And everything inside of him turned into mush. Before he could think, he’d said, “Okay,” and couldn’t take it back, because her entire face lit up and she threw her tender arms around his neck, her soft hair was against his cheek and her body was pressed too close to his. He could inhale the flowers and cupcake scents of her beauty supplies and lip gloss, and everything was warm. Too warm. Hot even. He squirmed out of her arms and said, “Yeah, yeah,” ignoring her confused face about him pulling away. It didn’t last long anyway. She credited his mood to hating stuff like school dances and moved on with life. He overheard her telling people, “Sorry, I’m going with Simon to the dance, but if I get a chance and your date doesn’t mind, I’ll save one dance, just for you.” He actually heard her say that three times before she was too far away for him to hear her anymore.

She was always doing that. Just telling the other kids whatever she thought that they wanted to hear. He figured it was because she couldn’t tell her parents “no” and so she was just used to reflexively saying whatever kept the peace. He was like that once. But now, the last thing he did was care about what either of his parents had to say. He was never home anyway. He was always with Grace, either stashed in her room, or somewhere in town enjoying life and causing mischief. Since school started, she hadn’t been able to get out as much. She would complain about homework, which she hardly had the attention span for and Simon would simply do hers to get it done, but now that she was in school, her parents would set up social arrangements for her and other well to do kids (mostly to rub elbows or have pissing contests with their parents).

But… he had a date with Grace, and his dad was at home on leave, so he didn’t have to worry too much about having to be at home. He did have to worry about formal wear, though. He groaned as he headed for class, taking out his phone to try to see where he might find an affordable formal and how much hustling he’d have to do to obtain it.

One thing that Simon hated about the academy that was different about his last school was that the bullies here were far more sinister and also more protected. If he got into a fight at public school, there might be a suspension and maybe some penalty for disrupting class or something.

If he got into a fight here, the zero tolerance violence policy would get him kicked out… and yet, and yet, and yet… that did not happen with those rich boys whose parents paid for wings of the building, and had statues, or replaced team equipment… the kinds of boys that resented him for being so close to Grace, and let him know that he didn’t belong there, every single day. The kinds of boys with the most powerful commodity in the world - money.

The first week of school, someone had asked him what his father did. He answered honestly, “He’s in the military.”

“Is he high ranking?”

“No. He served for a while, got out, but reenlisted a few years ago.”

“What about your mother?”

He answered less honestly, but close enough, “She’s a housewife.”

“How did they afford to send you here?” Just… right out of the gate, huh?

“I have a scholarship.”

“For which organization?”

“It’s an art scholarship. The Kissington one.”

“Oh.” the ‘Oh’ was enough for him to realize that it wasn’t a good one. But, they added, for good measure, “You’re poor.” And technically… his family wasn’t really POOR. They never were short for the bills, like some of the kids he knew. There was usually food, if he made a trip to the grocer. His mom was able to stay at home, not working, receive medication, and they had a cat. So, he wasn’t rich, at all, but he wouldn’t have considered himself poor, either.

But here, anybody who wasn’t wealthy was poor. Sure, the Laurents could afford their bills, but he was never able to do anything extra if he didn’t find odd jobs. Meanwhile, Grace sometimes couldn’t see him for a few days because her parents were hosting a politician or a royal, or she had to go overseas for a few weeks, or she just really wanted to do a spa day weekend and he simply couldn’t come along because it cost too much.

There was a group of kids that had let him know that they were “on his level.” But, he didn’t spend a lot of time around them, because he was here for Grace and he had Grace, but he was aware that everybody wanted her too. The difference was he was certain that she was just a status symbol to these people, but she was his friend.

The teachers didn’t like him very much either. They seemed to always be suspicious of him and he couldn’t tell if it was his imagination that they weren’t as lineate about objective answers as they were with some of the other kids. He knew that he was smarter than a lot of the kids who did better than him. He KNEW he was. School was less of a hell hole whenever he would worry that he might have to fight for his life. There was something so much more unnerving about fighting something that wasn’t physical, and having the disadvantage, because he simply couldn’t add up to his peers in a lot of these people’s eyes. He knew that he was more evolved than them, but all they could see was money, and he just wasn’t made up of it like these kids.

Whenever they left school, Grace would brag about all of the compliments that she got and go on about how awesome school is and wonder how it was for him. “Are you happy?” he’d ask.

“Yeah!” She’d said.

“School is great. I mean… you’re there. That makes it the best place” She’d look at him for a moment, like she didn’t know if she believed him, her eyes sad and suspicious, but she’d smile and change to subject to something that they both loved. It was true in a way. Whenever she was there, he forgot about his problems and just soaked her in and her followers were even nice to him in those moments. A few of the girls even admitted (or maybe lied) that he was cute. But, they weren’t together the entire time and most of the time, he was miserable. But… if she was happy… I mean, that’s why you came here, Simon, he’d remind himself. Maybe it would simply take a moment for things to become normal.

And a few months later, after he agreed to go to a school dance with her, he knew that whatever their normal was, they weren’t in it… or it had changed. He didn’t know for sure which one, but he knew that at the moment, he wasn’t enjoying it. The snide kids. The sneaky boys. The snobby girls. The suspicious staff. He was becoming increasingly angry, and wasn’t sure if Grace was still enough to quell that. She had so much more going on than him, these days. Maybe, she didn’t need him here at all, and she just didn’t know until now. Maybe the fact that SHE had a lot of money and HE didn’t, made him anxious. He couldn’t catch up, and even though they still had their inside jokes about being “the apex” like when they were kids… he felt like she was the apex, and he would have to work extremely hard to ever truly be powerful. He would have to do more to get and have money. Being intellectually and physically superior didn’t matter if there were enemies in place who could affect your personal trajectory!

This became clearest whenever the Fall Festival came around and he finally was able to actually meet the infamous Mrs. Monroe.

#infinity train #infinity train fanfiction #Nesha Fanfiction #AU Infinity Train #fics #If They Didn't Get on the Train #The Rich Kids

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whumphoarder · 5 years

Text

D is for Diploma

Summary: Between all of his commitments, Peter’s grades start slipping, putting him in danger of losing his academic scholarship to Midtown. Stressed and guilt-ridden about the effect this will have on May’s finances, he ends up worrying himself sick and having a breakdown in Tony’s lab.

Word count: 3,759

Genre: emotional hurt/comfort, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N: Thanks so much to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta reading and encouragement <3

Link to read on Ao3

“But how are you getting a C in gym class?” Ned balks at his friend. He’s peering over Peter’s shoulder as he scrolls through his quarterly grades on the school library computer. “Everyone gets an A. I’m getting an A. All you gotta do is show up and at least look like you’re trying and boom, automatic A.”

Peter rubs a hand at the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, remember after the Rhino dude attacked me, how I had all those bruises that didn’t heal right away?”

“Yeah...” Ned recalls, frowning. “But you said they didn’t hurt.”

“They didn’t! Not really, anyway,” Peter says quickly. “But like, I didn’t really want everyone to see that, so I kinda didn’t change into my uniform. And apparently if you don’t change, Wilson just marks you as absent.”

“Ah.” Ned gives him a sympathetic wince. “Yeah, that’s lame.”

“What I don’t understand,” MJ pipes up, glancing up from the book she’s had her nose in all afternoon, “is the D in Spanish. Rodríguez isn’t even a hard teacher.”

Peter’s face flushes with embarrassment. “So… I might have forgotten to submit a couple assignments.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “You forgot? He reminds us what’s due, like, three times every class period.”

“I mean, it was just the take-home quiz...” he mumbles. “And some of the homework sheets. Oh, and that cultural essay thing about the ancient Mayans.”

“Peter.” She blinks at him. “That was like, twenty percent of our grade.”

“Well, to be fair, I did have a concussion,” he defends. “It was a little hard to remember stuff that week.”

Ned rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, that makes it so much better.”

Peter huffs out a laugh. Honestly, between all the hours he’s been logging lately as Spider-Man, his frequent internship nights with Tony in the lab, the increasingly demanding decathlon practice schedule as their team moves toward regionals, and the weekend shifts he’s started picking up at Delmar’s (because, let’s face it, the vigilante life isn’t the most lucrative career path—the occasional free churro notwithstanding), Peter thinks he’s been doing quite well juggling everything. Sure, his grades aren’t quite the neat row of A’s and the occasional B he’s grown accustomed to throughout his school career, but it’s not like he’s failing anything.

“I’ve just got different priorities now,” Peter says with a shrug. “I still show up and I’m passing all my classes, so what does the grade matter?”

MJ returns the shrug, looking vaguely impressed with him. “It doesn’t really. I’ve always been morally opposed to using arbitrary numerical values as a measure of academic success.” She shifts her gaze back to her novel before adding, offhandedly, “But you gotta admit, the tuition break is nice.”

And in those nine little words, she might as well have punched him in the gut.

“Oh shit,” Peter breathes out. Hurriedly, he starts gathering books together and getting to his feet.

“What?” Ned asks, looking puzzled.

“Um, I gotta go,” he blurts. And then before anyone can say another word, he’s out of the library doors.

The Parkers aren’t poor, exactly.

May works full-time at her job as a neonatal nurse, besides picking up extra shifts one or two nights a month to give them a bit of cushion. Between her wages and the social security checks that come every month from Ben’s pension, the two of them get by. Sure, Peter might not have name-brand clothes or the coolest tech or even a pair of gym shoes without a bit of duct tape on the soles, but there’s always been food on the table and a roof over his head, so Peter’s never stressed that much about their financial situation.

Maybe that’s how he managed to completely forget about his academic scholarship.

He’s qualified for it ever since he passed Midtown’s entrance exams in the top tenth percentile back in eighth grade. The money is substantial—slightly over two-thirds of the tuition cost is paid for him—and the scholarship automatically renews every semester provided he maintains a grade point average of 3.3 or higher, which has never been a problem for him.

That is, up until now. Factoring in his B in history, the C’s in gym and trig, and his D in Spanish, his GPA is currently sitting at 2.9.

Peter is going to lose his scholarship.

With less than two weeks left before finals, Peter starts cramming in all the studying he can manage. He stays up late, pouring over his trigonometry notes, trying to work his way through all the practice problems he’s been slacking on. He makes a point of showing up three minutes early to gym class every day, even if he has to use a bit of his enhanced speed to get all the way there from the chem labs on the other side of the building. On the train, he quizzes himself on the names of historical figures and the dates of battles long-since fought. Some of his teachers are willing to work with him, letting him turn in late assignments for partial credit or giving him additional projects to complete.

And then there’s Spanish.

“Isn’t there some kind of extra credit project I can do?” Peter begs. “Anything?”

It’s his study hall period and he’s at Señor Rodríguez’s desk for the second day in a row, desperately hoping for anything that could give his grade the boost it needs.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” his teacher says, sounding genuinely regretful. “But you’ve had countless opportunities this semester to get your grade up via homework and test retakes, all of which you neglected to take advantage of. Coming to me with less than ten days left in the semester requesting make up work for assignments worth significant percentages of your grade is simply too little, too late.”

“But… I had a concussion that week,” Peter argues. “Like, right when it was all due. And I would have done the work before, but…” He trails off, unable to finish his sentence without explaining his unorthodox extracurriculars. “I...I was busy,” he concludes weakly.

Rodríguez raises an eyebrow a little skeptically. “I didn’t receive any notes from the nurse’s office about this concussion.”

Peter glances down to his feet. “Well, that’s because she didn’t know, exactly…”

No one did—not even May. After getting all those bruises the week before, Peter didn’t want anyone to know he was hurt again so soon. Apparently Karen hadn’t deemed the blow to the head he took severe enough to override his wishes. He’d just dealt with the headaches and brain fog the best he could and sort of floated through that week on his own. In hindsight, maybe not his best plan.

“Well, I guess this is a good life lesson for you then, Peter,” Rodríguez says. His voice is firm, but not unkind. “Part of growing up is taking responsibility and learning to communicate with authority figures before you get into trouble.”

“Right, and I get that,” Peter babbles, “I just—”

His teacher holds up a finger, quieting him. “My job is to train my students for success in the real world, and sometimes that means reminding you that actions have consequences. ¿Lo entiendes?”

And Peter finds himself nodding. Because, despite the pool of dread growing in his gut, he does understand. He wants to be mad, wants to say it’s unfair and the universe gave him a raw deal and he doesn’t deserve this. But he can’t. Rodríguez is right.

And Peter’s still fucked.

By the time Friday rolls around, Peter’s barely functioning. Besides all the extra assignments and studying for finals, he’s had three days in a row of Decathlon practices, followed by some particularly eventful evening patrols that all went quite a bit later than his usual curfew of ten p.m.

He can’t get much of his lunch down today, which does nothing to appease his friends’ concerned looks. The food seems tasteless in his mouth and he’s so tired he nearly nods off into his cafeteria chicken nuggets.

When school finally lets out, he’s surprised and a little disheartened to see the sleek black car waiting for him in the bus circle. He’d totally forgotten it was an internship weekend.

Figures.

Peter groans as he disconnects the circuits he just switched out. He’s been trying to fix a bug in his suit’s heater upgrade for the last twenty minutes now, but nothing he attempts is working and his head is throbbing so much that his vision is hazy.

“Just try again, kid,” Tony encourages absently from across the workshop. He’s not looking up, fully engrossed as he is in his own project. “You got this.”

“Yeah...” Peter mutters under his breath. Blinking a few times, he rubs a hand at his eyes to try to clear his vision.

He connects a different wire. That one doesn’t yield any better results, so he unplugs it and tries again. Then again. Then again. He’s fairly sure he’s already tried the next combination, but he’s so tired he can’t remember so he does it again just to be sure. Nothing.

Peter is so frustrated now that his hands are actually shaking. He pauses and takes a deep breath before trying again.

This time, the wire sparks at him.

“I can’t do this!” Peter exclaims, shoving the suit away from him across the table. “I can’t do anything! Why am I so fucking stupid?!”

He’s breathing heavily now, tears clouding his vision even further. Within a few seconds he feels Tony’s hand rest heavily on his shoulder. It should be comforting, but it only makes Peter feel pathetic.

“C’mon, just take a deep breath and—”

“No!” Peter blurts, shaking away from Tony’s grip. “That’s not going to fix anything! I can’t fix this—don’t you see?!”

Stepping backwards, Tony holds his hands up in front of his chest, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. “Okay…” he says carefully. “I think you might need a break.”

Tears prick at Peter’s eyes and he instantly regrets snapping at his mentor. “No, no, I didn’t mean that! I’m s-sorry, ’m fine…” he says. It would probably sound a lot more convincing if his breath would stop hitching.

Tony lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, no, I’m pulling rank here,” he declares. “It’s break time.”

“No!” Peter protests. His hands fumble back on the table for the wires. “I gotta finish it! It’s so close, it’s just—” He cuts himself off as the images of the suit swim before his eyes, his head throbbing. “I, I need to finish…” he concludes lamely.

“Peter, just stop,” Tony says with an exasperated sigh. “You’re no good like this.”

Somehow, those words are the catalyst. Peter feels every emotion he’s been bottling up for the past week erupt inside of him. His breath hitches and his head pulses. “I, I know I’m not,” he manages to say, “but that’s why I gotta… gotta finish, then maybe—”

“Jesus, kid,” Tony breathes out. “That’s not what I meant at all. I was just saying—”

Peter cuts him off. “No, I… I know…” Tears are sliding down Peter’s cheeks now. He runs a hand through his hair, shoulders shaking. “’M sorry.”

Tony’s eyes are a mixture of concern and confusion. “Whoa, hey, what’s going on here?” Tugging the edge of his sleeve over his thumb, Tony uses it to wipe a few of the tears off his cheeks. “Talk to me.”

Honestly, Peter doesn’t even know where to begin. The frustration of his current project, the lack of sleep, his grades, the scholarship…

“I just… I-I have a headache.”

Peter doesn’t know why he says it—the pressure in his skull doesn’t even rank very high on his list of concerns at the moment, yet the simple physicality of it somehow makes it the easiest thing to admit. He rubs the back of his hand at his eyes, but his vision is still so blurry. “Can’t really see straight…”

Tony’s brows knit together. “Is it a migraine?”

“N-No,” Peter says between choked sobs. “Or... I don’t know, I don’t th-think so?” Despite never having had a migraine, he’s pretty sure that’s not what this is. The pain isn’t anything exceptional—it’s just that he can’t seem to stop crying and he’s so fucking tired.

“Either way, I think you’ll feel better once you’ve got a couple painkillers in you,” Tony reasons. “C’mon, let’s get you sorted out.”

Peter shakes his head in weak protest. “No, ’s’okay... “

“Nope,” Tony says, his voice a little more firm. “Trust me on this, you don’t want to work in a lab right now. It’s bright, and loud, and honestly, you’re a bit of a safety hazard at the moment.”

To Peter’s horror, a fresh wave of emotion comes over him and he finds himself properly crying now, his frame wracking with each sob.

“Okay, okay, alright…” Tony murmurs, and Peter feels a hand awkwardly patting him on the back.

It’s all so idiotic, Peter decides, standing in Tony’s lab, crying over things that are completely his own fault and a headache that isn’t even that bad.

“You’re okay, kid,” Tony whispers. “Just breathe.”

As Peter struggles to pull himself together, he feels the hand switch to rubbing circles on his back. It moves up to the back of his neck, but halts as soon as Tony’s fingers touch Peter’s bare skin.

Tony frowns. “Do you have a fever?”

“Wh-What?” Peter’s throat is thick.

“You’re really warm,” Tony explains. He flips his hand around to press the back of his fingers to Peter’s skin, first on his neck, then on his cheek. “Yeah. FRIDAY, can we get a read on that?”

“100.7, boss,” she supplies.

Tony hums a bit. “Yeah, that’s about what I thought…”

Peter doesn’t get it. “B-But I’m not sick,” he protests. “Just—”

“Exhausted,” Tony finishes for him. “When’s the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”

Sniffling, Peter gives a non-committal shrug.

“Yeah, that’s not good, kid,” Tony huffs. “Take it from a guy who has a bit of experience in this area—not sleeping enough will seriously mess you up.”

With a hand on Peter’s back, Tony starts gently ushering the kid out of the lab. Peter doesn’t even bother protesting anymore as he shuffles along, his lip quivering. He figures he’s caused enough trouble today.

Tony deposits him onto the couch in the living room and Peter immediately curls up against the arm rest, squeezing his eyelids shut in an effort not to think about what a fool he’s making of himself in front of his mentor. It doesn’t help much.

“You just chill out for a minute here, okay?” Tony says quietly, draping a blanket over Peter. “I’m gonna get you some meds.”

Peter nods and Tony gives his shoulder a final squeeze before stepping out.

The second he’s alone, the tears start streaming down again, hot and silent and totally uncontrollable. If he’s not working in the lab, then he really should be studying for these stupid finals, but he can’t bring himself to pull out his flash cards. He doesn’t think he can rest—not with so much hanging over his head—but he can’t work either. Tony was right; he’s just no good right now.

When Tony reenters with painkillers and a glass of water, he doesn’t say anything about how Peter is hurriedly sitting up and scrubbing his face with his hands in a pointless attempt to pull himself together. He just presses two pills into Peter’s palm.

Looking down at the painkillers in his shaking hand, Peter’s stomach twists and he’s suddenly not so sure they’ll be able to stay down. “I can’t. I feel sick,” he admits in a whisper.

With a quiet sigh, Tony perches himself on the edge of the sofa, right beside Peter’s tucked knees. “I think you’re just tired, kiddo. Sometimes that makes you feel a little sick.”

Peter doesn’t say anything so Tony passes him the glass of water. “Here. Humor me,” he says. “If I’m wrong, I’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

It’s a stupid joke, but the corners of Peter’s lips twitch anyway. “Okay,” he croaks.

Peter slips the pills into his mouth and swallows them down with a sip of water. He’s queasy, but it’s not too bad. He goes to set the cup back down on the coffee table, but his mentor shakes his head.

“Drink the whole thing,” Tony instructs.

Peter obeys. It takes him a couple of minutes, but he manages to get the entire cup down and feels just the smallest bit better for it.

Tony takes the empty glass from his hand and sets it on the table. “Think you can sleep now?”

Peter just shrugs. He wants to—god, he wants to—but he doesn’t deserve it. Not when this is all his own damn fault. His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks again:

“I think I really messed up, Mr. Stark.”

Over the next ten minutes, it all comes tumbling out: the job at Delmar’s, the decathlon requirements, the late patrols, his slipping grades, his scholarship, everything.

“I just… I don’t want to change schools,” Peter concludes softly. “I like Midtown. It was the first place I really felt like… well, like I fit in.”

Tony’s been quiet for the whole time Peter was speaking, but now his brow furrows. “Why would you need to quit Midtown?”

Peter blinks at him; isn’t it obvious? “Because the full tuition is eight thousand dollars a semester. Without the scholarship…” he trails off. “I just can’t do that to May.”

A look of relief spreads across Tony’s face. “Is that all? That’s the whole issue?” He huffs out an amused breath. “Done. Consider it paid. Problem solved.”

Peter feels his cheeks flush. He shakes his head frantically. “No, no, I didn’t mean that you should pay! Please don’t do that!”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to blink at him. “Peter. I am a multi-billionaire. Do you have any idea what eight thousand dollars is to me?”

“But you shouldn’t have t—”

“Peanuts,” Tony cuts him off. “I’ve spent more on peanuts than that.”

“But—”

“And by that I mean actual, honest-to-god peanuts,” Tony continues over the kid’s protests. “There’s this company in Peru that slow-roasts them for twenty-one days in a secret spice blend. Happy’s obsessed with ‘em—says they’re god’s gift to mankind. So, for Christmas one year—”

“You can’t pay my tuition!” Peter blurts out.

Tony stops his story abruptly. His eyes narrow at Peter. “And why exactly is that?”

“Because…” Running a hand through his hair, Peter draws in a shuddery breath. “Because… If anyone should pay, it’s me. I-I’m the one who fucked up and lost the stupid scholarship. I should be the one responsible for fixing this.”

“But you can’t fix it,” Tony says bluntly.

Peter’s caught off-guard. “Wh-What? N-No, I just need to get my grades up, and, and…”

Tony’s voice is gentler now. “You can’t, Peter. You can’t get a 2.9 up to a 3.3 by next week, no matter how well you do on your exams. You’ve gotta know that.”

(Peter does know. He’s known for days. He’s always been good at math, after all.)

“So you can’t keep going on like this, trying to make up for what happened,” Tony concludes.

Tears prick at the corners of Peter’s eyes once more. He’s determined not to let them fall this time. “But I deserve it…” he whispers.

Tony shrugs. “If we always got what we deserved, I never would have made it through the 90s.” He huffs out a short laugh. “At least nobody has to bail you out of prison. Same can’t be said for all of us.”

In spite of Peter’s earlier resolve, the traitorous tears slip out anyway. He wonders how he has any left.

Tony sobers a bit. “You’re a good kid, Pete,” he says quietly. “But you’re trying to carry the whole world on your shoulders and that’s enough to break anyone. It’s okay to ask for help sometimes. Even if you fucked up.”

Peter swallows hard. “Okay.”

“So let’s try this again,” Tony says. He makes eye contact with Peter. “What do you need, kid?”

“Right now?” Peter exhales deeply. “I dunno. A nap?”

Tony smirks slightly. “I think we can manage that.”

Peter makes it through finals.

All his extra effort and studying does yield some results. His gym grade increases to a B after Coach Wilson grades his two-page extra credit report on the rules of badminton. The trig final is rough, but he pulls in another couple points there, and the art teacher accepts a few late sketches from the unit on perspectivism. With the help of the final exam, he even manages to eek out a C- in Spanish.

When it’s all said and done, Peter’s GPA sits at 3.1.

“That wasn’t easy to do. I’m proud of you, Peter,” May says sincerely. “You know that, right?”

Peter shrugs. “I guess so.”

They’re sitting together at the apartment’s small kitchen table, May’s open laptop in front of them with all of Peter’s end of semester grades displayed. Peter’s eyes drift down from the screen to the table where a check for eight thousand dollars signed by Tony Stark himself is staring back at him. He sighs.

May plants a quick kiss on the top of her nephew’s head. “Well, I know so. So for now, I’ll just know it for the both of us.”

Peter strokes his fingers over the crisp paper of the check. Besides covering tuition, Tony has now upgraded Peter’s unofficial SI internship to a paid position—something he says he should have done long ago, given how much time Peter spends working in the lab—and that will allow him to give Mr. Delmar his two-week notice.

He knows he should be grateful, but honestly, it’s going to take him some time to wrap his head around the concept of being taken care of like this.

Getting up from the table, May moves over to retrieve a small paper bag from the counter. “That reminds me—Mr. Stark told me to give you this.” She tosses the bag to Peter, who catches it easily.

Curiously, he opens it. He’s immediately hit with the aroma of exotic spices and roasted legumes. Peter can’t help but grin.

A note inside the bag reads: Enjoy your peanuts, kid.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, you might also like:

Viral Wisdom

Go Down Swinging

A Pressing Emergency

Fic Masterlist

#irondad fic #irondad & spiderson #sick peter parker #hurt/comfort #crying #emotional breakdown #angst #soft angst #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #headache #fever #stress #school stress #gpa

387 notes · View notes

minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong · 5 years

Text

Ephemera Chapter Four

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 5k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Hey! Lmao, I’m flip-flopping with this link thing. Last week I had to remove them whew. Anyway, this week I’ll add them later on. For now, if you want to catch up on the rest of the story, please head over to my masterlist! If you can’t find it, shoot me a message and I’ll send it to you. And on that note, please feel free to send me anything you’d like! Feedback, theories, critique, anything goes!

And in personal news, I’m having my short story published in a literary magazine!! PUBLISHED!!! I really can’t believe it. It feels so surreal. But it’s thanks to you guys that I had the confidence to submit my work to the magazine. Thank you for supporting me :’)

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

Outside, I heard the computer room door open and shut. Two pairs of footsteps echoed down the hall. I blinked at the document before hastily shoving all the papers back in place. I threw the folder into its place in the drawer and shut off the light, rushing out into the hallway and dashing into the bathroom across the way. I turned on the water just long enough to be convincing and dried my hands on my pants before bracing myself in the mirror. I didn’t…quite look myself. The same purplish bags hung beneath my eyes that I’d begun growing accustomed to, but there was something else in my face that left me unsettled. Where once there was a girlish naiveté, now there was something harder, something with rougher edges lingering in the details of my expression. In the set of my jaw, in the hollows of my cheeks, in the shadows in my eyes. It was aged somehow, weary.

It was tired.

I sighed and shut off the light as I walked back out into the hallway. Again, the television rang out through the apartment. And this time, it wasn’t the news. Perhaps it was something about having my deepest fears confirmed that had me on edge, or perhaps it was the thrill of doing something I wasn’t supposed to, or perhaps even it was the alcohol in my veins, but it seemed a new feeling had replaced that deep-down ache that had persisted for weeks. And it felt…something like anger. Keeping documents that Vante had signed? Running intel on a man who wanted nothing more than to make the world brighter with his art? Spying on someone who supported and believed in people without expecting a single thing in return? I ran my fingers through my messy hair and entered the living room with a smile.

“Y/N!” called Jungkook, eyes wide.

I chuckled. “Sorry. I saw you guys weren’t out here when I got back and helped myself to your bathroom.” I met Jungkook’s eyes with a steeliness that felt foreign. If he could look me in the eye and lie without flinching, then I could too.

“We thought your call would take longer,” said Seokjin with a laugh. “Not much to talk about?”

I returned his laugh and nodded. “Ah, yeah. She was freaked out since she forgot to feed Hyunie,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve gotta go now and take care of it since she’s working on a paper.”

Jungkook groaned and approached me with a frown, placing his hands on my hips like they fit there perfectly. And, until recently, they did. “Baby, you gotta stop doing favors for everyone,” he said, drawing out his words.

Playing drunk? After all that?

I cocked a brow and let my hands roam his arms with a hum. A smile teased my lips, and I could feel the malice in it. A malice that had never been there before. I let my eyes follow my fingertips and, for the first time since we’d started dating, I noticed a shiver run up Jungkook’s body. Like I was affecting him.

How stupid could I have been? When he never so much as reacted to me? How many more months could I have gone in blissful ignorance? Seeing him now, with a faint flush to his face and eyes wide like saucers, I wondered just what I had been thinking all this time?

I chuckled and sighed a little. “What can I say?” I asked, meeting his eyes with a lazy smile. “I guess I’m just a really good person.”

Another shiver worked up to his chest from the base of his spine. Was this his type after all? “I-I guess so,” he said with a breathy laugh before clearing his throat and backing away with a smile. “So, should we continue Would You Rather?”

I pouted and gave his chest a little pat, letting my hand linger there for a beat too long. I could feel his heartbeat. It was racing. “Sorry,” I said, sighing as I began collecting my jacket and bag. “I’d better feed Hyun before Nara calls again. She’s…persistent,” I said with a laugh, squeezing his bicep before waving goodbye to Jin. I made my way quickly to the front door and swung it open to a waft of chilly air.

“Wait!” called Jungkook, stumbling slightly on a rogue pillow as he jogged after me. As I turned, I noticed that flush was still in his cheeks.

So he liked an assertive woman after all?

Really, how stupid could I have been, thinking he’d be interested in me at all?

“Hm?”

“W-We didn’t finish the beer,” he said, pointing behind him toward the coffee table.

“Or the game!” offered Seokjin with a grin.

I laughed and shook my head. “Hyun needs food,” I said, then glanced out into the hallway. “And I have class tomorrow anyway. Raincheck?” I asked, peering back inside the apartment with a smile.

Jungkook blinked at me for a moment before he coughed a little and rubbed his arms, leaning away from the blast of cold that slipped in from the door. “Promise?” he asked with a smirk. Ah, there he was.

I nodded, smiling wide. “Mhm! I’ll text you,” I said, waving as I slipped outside and shut the door behind me.

Nara always kept her spare key hidden in a potted plant outside her front door. I’d scolded her enough times to make her ears bleed that these sorts of hiding spots were too obvious, but nonetheless she persisted. As I entered, Hyun was already upon me, whining as I locked the door behind me. The sixty-pound Samoyed had these eyes that made my heart weep and a perpetually wagging tail. I ran my hands over the white fur on his head with a soft smile. At least Hyun was trustworthy. After filling Hyun’s bowl, I decided to simply stay and wait for Nara to return. There was lots to discuss anyway. I hadn’t anticipated she’d take all night, but by the time one o’clock rolled around I was exhausted and Nara’s plush couch called me like a siren. I quickly sent her a text that I’d be waiting for her when she came home, that I had a lot to tell her. Maybe then she’d hurry up. I told myself I wouldn’t rest for long. Ten minutes maximum. But the dim kitchen lights cast comforting shadows on the ceiling and the faux fur blanket Nara had draped over the back of the couch felt like a warm hug. Hyun joined me as I snuggled into the cushions and the two of us fell fast asleep.

I don’t think I even dreamed.

My cell phone’s alarm screeched at seven and I jumped up, Hyun still snoozing at my feet. My eyes flashed around the apartment, looking for anything and nothing. Before panic could settle in, I heard the familiar sound of Nara’s laugh from the open kitchen and turned over my shoulder to see her stirring a cup of coffee, a matching one sitting just beside her on the kitchen bar. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair.

“Shit,” I breathed.

She laughed and nodded. “I figured you needed the rest,” she said. “I would’ve waken you up, but I didn’t get home until three anyway.”

“Three?” I asked, standing and rubbing my forehead. I grabbed the coffee and took a sip. Ah, just like her dad’s. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe you were working on your essay until three in the morning,” I said, smirking at her as I met her eyes over the rim of my cup.

She chuckled, a nervous sound, and rubbed the back of her neck, glancing away. “Ah, well…”

“Don’t tell me you lied about the library-,”

“No!” she shouted, turning to me with wide eyes. “We did do that until midnight when the library closed…” She smiled sheepishly at her slippered feet, wiggling her toes.

I cocked a brow. “And then?”

“And then…we might have gone out for drinks…as a, you know…reward?” She turned a hopeful grin towards me.

Without a word, I flicked her forehead and she winced. As she rubbed her injury with two fingertips, I laughed lightly. “Did you have fun?” I asked, eyeing her.

She didn’t look quite as tired as before. Her skin was brighter and her smiles lasted longer. Perhaps a night out was what she needed after all. She giggled. “Mhm,” she said, pulling her phone from the pocket of her sweatpants. “I got a video of this girl in my class singing Eyes, Nose, Lips at the karaoke place and falling off the table.”

I placed a hand on her phone and smiled, guilty. “I’m sorry, Nara. But I really have to go. I’ve got class and I haven’t even changed clothes and-,”

“But it’s really short! It’s so funny. I promise it won’t take long,” she said, smiling wide with eyes that resembled Hyun’s.

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Maybe, with the scant time I had to spare, I might have liked to talk about what happened with Jungkook. Maybe I might have liked hearing her advice. But with a defeated smile I simply nodded and leaned over her shoulder to watch the first of what was sure to be several videos from her night out.

Friday was long. I hadn’t even had so much a a free half hour to run home and change clothes, leaving me in the loungewear I wore to Jungkook’s all day. My classes seemed to drag on and my mind was spinning from one activity to the next. Each interaction left me tired, and I knew the day had only just begun when I finally collapsed on my bed at three. I fell onto my stomach, letting my eyes slip shut for only a moment as I sighed. Images of Jungkook’s flustered face repeated in my mind endlessly. That new, unfamiliar expression was haunting.

I’d really been a fool.

Before I could become too comfortable, I stood to my feet and got changed for work. As I wandered to my dresser half-dressed in search of a clean blouse, I found none in the drawer. Perplexed, I turned to my hamper and saw it was overflowing with used work shirts. I heaved a sigh and rubbed my forehead. I’d been neglecting my household chores lately. Even the houseplants were suffering. The devil’s ivy I kept in a hanging basket over my kitchen table was starting to brown at the leaves and the succulents in my terrarium weren’t looking very succulent at all.

I supposed these days I’d been neglecting a lot of important things.

I turned back to my dresser and scoured it. Nothing but sweaters and old shirts. I couldn’t very well show up to the Gallery in a Pink Floyd shirt that my dad gave me years ago. Nor could I show up in a dirty, wrinkled blouse that smelled like hamper.

I pursed my lips and opened my top drawer. I moved aside a few pairs of panties and some bras to reveal the only lingerie I owned. I’d bought it only a few days before finding out Jungkook wasn’t who I thought he was. I figured it might be nice for our first time.

But after last night, I realized it wasn’t his style anyway.

The white silk slip was nothing more than a sleeping dress when I really thought about it. Not once had I worn it, and after the last few weeks I assumed I never would. I ran my fingers along the thin straps and chewed on my cheek. Was it too risqué for work? Surely, patrons would notice I wasn’t following the dress code, and if they didn’t Mr. Kwon would. But what were my alternatives?

I sighed and pulled the thing up my legs from the bottom, sliding it over my tights and jimmying it up my waist from underneath my skirt. It felt odd to wear a whole dress beneath my skirt, but as I readjusted the hem it was perfectly unnoticeable. Quickly, I grabbed my blazer and straightened it along my shoulders, staring at my reflection with a furrow in my brow.

It didn’t look that bad, did it?

I just had to be careful not to bend down…

“Can you tell me about this photo?” asked a soft voice from behind me.

I smiled and turned. A young girl, maybe thirteen, stared in awe at the large photograph over my head. My smile eased and I nodded. “Certainly,” I said, watching her eyes glitter with wonder as I turned to face the picture. I gestured with two pointed fingers to the two silhouetted figures in the center of the shot. “Critics say these two pieces conjure the same feeling as photos taken by Diane Arbus.”

“Two?” she asked, looking at me with wide brown eyes.

I smiled. “Mhm,” I said, pointing to the photo’s companion beside it featuring the same two people now facing one another, hands interlocked. “It’s a candid shot of two lovers in an alleyway in Gangnam.”

“Ah,” she said, grinning at the black-and-white print. “Who’s Diane Bus?” she asked.

I suppressed a laugh and nodded. “Ah, Diane Arbus is a famous photographer who used to capture images of marginalized communities,” I said, crossing my arms as I scanned the photos. From far away, it was impossible to tell anything about the couple. “Drag queens, sex workers…people that society likes to hate.”

She raised her brows and looked at me. “Really?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling. “Do you notice anything about the couple in these photos?”

She blinked once before turning to the prints with squinted eyes. Her eyes flitted all around for a few moments before, having had enough, she shook her head with a frustrated sigh.

I grinned. “They’re both men,” I said.

Her eyes went round. “They are?”

“You couldn’t tell, right?”

She shook her head, smiling. “Not at all.”

“Because in the end, they’re just people,” I said, nodding. “Diane Arbus wanted to dignify and humanize the disenfranchised.” I paused for a moment as I thought of what to say. With a sad smile I crossed my arms. “Once you understand that everyone is only human, it becomes much harder to hate them.”

She nodded, her smile still remaining, as she chuckled once. “I really never would’ve known.”

“Cool, right?”

She laughed. “Super cool.”

“Jia!” shouted a voice from across the gallery.

The girl and I both jumped, turning to the source of the commotion. The shock of the outburst left me a little shaken, but as I took in the scene before me my nerves settled. Standing with his legs set wide was a young man in a suit, hands balled into fists, face slightly red from exertion and eyes set staunchly on the girl at my side.

I leaned down close to her ear and whispered, “Is that you?”

She stiffened and looked up at me with pleading eyes. “Yeah,” she said, sighing. “It’s my brother.”

I watched the worry etch itself into her features and set my jaw. I patted her shoulder and smiled, leveling our eyes for a moment. “I’ll help you out.”

Jia stood behind me as I approached her fuming brother. I gave a small bow before meeting his eyes with a smile. “Hello, Sir. Is this your sister?” I asked, gesturing to Jia as she stayed close to my flank, scuffing the tip of her tennis shoe against the ground.

The young man exhaled loudly and gripped his nose bridge. “Jia, you were supposed to come directly to my office on the eighth floor! Can’t you count?” he shouted.

By then, a few patrons had stopped what they were doing to look at the commotion. Feeling their gazes burning holes through my back, I cleared my throat and maintained a smile. “Sir, I understand you’re upset, but she wasn’t causing any trouble-,”

“Did I ask you?” he asked, finally turning his angry eyes toward me, slowly scanning my body from head to toe. I stiffened underneath his scrutiny. “What kind of gallery lets their employees dress like this?” he asked with a scoff, eyeing the exposed skin of my clavicle where the blazer couldn’t quite reach. “Guess it’s true what they say about the benefits of being a woman getting a job.”

I swallowed hard and forced a tight smile. “If you could please lower your voice-,”

“Do you know what kind of day I’ve had?” he asked, then laughed and raked his fingers through his hair. “Of course you don’t. I bet you wouldn’t last a day in my office.”

I nodded. “Sir, I apologize for any inconvenience you’ve faced on our behalf, but-,” I began

He cut me off with a loud laugh and began wagging a finger in my face. “What?! Inconvenience? My twelve-year-old sister has been in here for who knows how long and you didn’t think once to ask where her guardian was? Inconvenience? This is borderline negligence!”

I nodded and offered what I hoped was a soothing smile. “I understand, Sir, but I must-,”

“Jia, let’s go,” he said, grabbing for the girl’s arm roughly.

She slid behind me, causing the young man to grab me instead. My eyes went wide and so did his. From the mortified look on his face, I could tell he wasn’t a dangerous man. Perhaps a bit strung out and more than a little frustrated, but no predator. I smiled gently and guided his hands off my forearm.

I turned to Jia and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You should go with your brother now, okay? You can come back and visit another time with your friends,” I said gently, leading her by the back to her brother.

The young man seemed stunned into silence by his own actions and, as if finally returning from some daze, he looked at me with apologetic eyes. “Thank you,” he said, his voice still slightly rough as he gnawed on his lower lip. He bowed curtly and walked toward the elevator with Jia in tow sending looks at me over her shoulder.

As he left, my body eased with relief. I patted my chest a few times before turning to Yuri at the front desk, her eyes wide as she watched me. I smiled and nodded my head, a silent cue that I was indeed okay, and she returned it before greeting two new patrons.

Carefully, I pulled the edges of my blazer closer to my chest, hoping to cover any indecently exposed flesh. I turned back to the patrons and bowed with a smile. “My apologies for that incident. Please don’t hesitate to ask me questions,” I announced, bowing.

But as I lifted my eyes, I didn’t see the floor of the gallery. Instead, I saw the stout suited legs of Mr. Kwon, and when my gaze reached his face I felt myself collapse a little. Disappointment was set in the deep brown of his eyes. Of course he’d been there to see everything. Every painful, mishandled second of it.

“Y/N,” he said. “May I see you in my office?”

I scanned the gallery for a moment, noticed each pair of eyes still settled on me, and cleared my throat, nodding as I followed Mr. Kwon down the hallway. He said nothing until the door clicked shut behind us and the silence became unbearable. Gruffly, he sat down at his scantly decorated desk and gestured with one large hand for me to sit opposite him.

I followed his directions and watched him, my heart pumping loud in my ears. “That was…unpleasant,” he said with a nod, lacing his fingers and peering out from over them.

I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“And it was not entirely your fault.”

My chest felt lighter at his words. I sighed and nodded. “I could have done much better.”

“You’re right,” he said, then sighed and rubbed his temples, his glasses clacking up and down with the motion. “And while that man was out of line, we do have an expected level of professionalism here at the gallery that we all have to uphold.”

I nodded. “You’re right.”

“You didn’t deescalate the situation,” he said, meeting my eyes seriously. “You allowed things to get out of hand.”

“I know, Sir.”

“You need to be more firm, Y/N,” he said with a somber nod. “You surrendered to that man too easily and as such, things got out of control.”

“I apologize,” I said, my eyes pricking with tears. I kept my gaze on my hands, shaking as I held them clasped on my lap. The longer we spoke, the more this sounded like a total dismissal. What would I do without this job?

He sighed. “People only have the power you give them,” he said with a cough. “When you forfeit your power is when you truly lose.”

I nodded, the first tear slipping from my eyelid and tracking down my cheek to my chin. “I understand.” He was right anyway. Hadn’t I spent years doing that?

“And as much as I disliked the way he said it, he was right about your work attire.”

I swallowed hard and squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears. “I apologize for my lack of professionalism.”

He sighed. “Y/N, you’re not being fired,” he said, to which my head snapped up and my watering eyes went wide. He was simply watching me from over his fingers, thick brows set low. “You can relax.”

I sighed and nodded, wiping beneath my eyes. “Thank you, Sir.”

“But please…be mindful of your attire. It’s not right for a woman to be…so brazen with her appearance,” he said with a cough and a glance at my chest.

I stiffened and nodded. “Y-Yes, Sir,” I said, but the words tasted acrid on my tongue. Was this what life really was? Fighting tooth and nail to be belittled and looked down upon for something as simple as my attire? Wasn’t he the one who said I mustn’t forfeit my power?

Was I really okay being spoken to this way?

And if I was, then why was my heart racing not with fear but with something hotter?

“You’re dismissed,” he said with a nod. “Please, just try to do better.”

“I will,” I said, my tears having halted in their tracks.

I stood up and bowed before walking back out into the hallway. I stood out in the center of the corridor for a long moment, my arms crossed. Because I was a woman, I had to endure it. Because I was desperate for work, I had to endure it. Because I wanted to protect Vante any way I could, I had to endure it.

Slowly, I lifted my eyes to find the security camera positioned in the corner of the hallway. The blinking red light indicated that it was indeed working. I furrowed my brow as a few more stubborn tears collected on my chin. I let them fall to the ground, still locked in a gaze with the camera. Was Vante on the other side? Could I communicate with him with a look alone all the things I needed to tell him?

I wiped my eyes, adjusted my blazer, checked my reflection in the window facing the city, and pasted a smile on my lips before walking quickly back to the floor.

The shift was finished at long last and the nighttime cityscape stretched on forever outside the gallery windows. Yuri had taken off on her own for a date, leaving me to close the place on my own. With a sigh, I collapsed against one of the chairs in the break room, resting my head on the countertop. As I did, I noticed yet another security camera stationed by the doorway, trained on me. Was this how Vante moved around the gallery unnoticed? Was this how he knew when I needed bandaids or coffee or an encouraging note?

Gently, I pulled the purple pendant from my pocket and ran my fingers over its surface. Lately, I’d been bringing it with me everywhere, hoping for some luck. So far, ineffective. I sighed and shut my eyes, my fingers still working over the smooth stone. So much had happened lately and all of it had left me utterly exhausted. I wanted to sleep.

Or perhaps I wanted a drink.

I sighed against my arm as I rested my head atop it, eyes shut. The crying had done a number on my makeup already, so I wasn’t worried about a little rest. The light from the hallway turned the backs of my eyelids a translucent red and each moment that passed my breathing came more slowly. How many times had I taken quick naps right here during breaks? How many times had I put myself last so that everyone would like me? Everyone would respect me?

Hadn’t I told myself once I became an adult, I’d stop caring so much about what people thought of me?

It seemed some habits were harder to break than others.

I continued running the pads of my fingers along the fine carve marks of the pendant, eyes shut. At least Vante believed in me. At least he saw something worthwhile in me.

And what was I giving him in return?

Halfhearted protection from a boy I was most certainly still in love with.

I hated myself.

If I could only get a moment alone with Vante, I could tell him everything that had been going on. I could explain why I let a strange young boy into the gallery unsupervised. I could tell him my findings and we could figure out their scheme together, from the inside.

Maybe you should fake him out, echoed Jungkook’s voice in my head. Pretend you’re sleeping and catch him leaving you presents like Santa.

There was no guarantee he was even at the gallery today, or that he’d leave me something. But as I briefly considered gathering my things and heading home for the evening, something kept me rooted to my seat.

I’d be lying if I said I was never…a little curious. This man with whom I’d built a years-long companionship was still a complete mystery to me. I didn’t even know his real name, but oftentimes he felt like my closest friend. And besides, I needed to explain the situation to him somehow didn’t I?

But what stopped me from leaving, what kept me from opening my eyes despite being wide awake, was something more than curiosity or obligation. There was a desperation in my rapid heartbeat. Knowing Vante had likely seen me cavorting with Jungkook the other night through those many surveillance cameras made me anxious. His notes had stopped. So too had the gifts. We hadn’t corresponded at all.

And for some reason, it felt like I’d betrayed him.

After some minutes, I heard the door creak open slowly. Could this really be true? Was he truly going to fall right into my trap? I kept still, holding the pendant in my palm as it rested atop my thigh. I managed my breathing, trying to inhale and exhale with ease and heaviness.

The footfalls were soft and almost timid as they reverberated through the room. I didn’t move a muscle. The steps came closer, closer, closer, until-

A large, warm hand pressed softly to the side of my head, guiding my hair behind my ear. I heard him sigh: a deep, breathy exhale. His gentle fingers pressed against the skin of my cheek, touching me like I may break. My heart raced. His hand moved from my face to rummage through a pocket near my ear. I heard him shuffle things around before placing something in front of my nose. Again he sighed and placed his palm against the back of my head, smoothing my hair down.

“Take care of yourself,” he said in a whisper.

A voice I recognized.

Before he could disappear again, I snapped upright and turned to him with wide eyes. Matching my expression, he stood beside my chair with flushed cheeks and hair that looked unruly against his forehead. He was dressed like he was on his way out: a full-length brown coat and an expensive dress shirt. He blinked at me through his glasses and his lips parted as if to speak.

But I beat him to it.

“Taehyung?”

165 notes · View notes

jinterlude · 5 years

Text

Andante, Adante

↳ header is made by yours truly. I do not own the rights to the image used.

➳ Pairing: Kim Junmyeon x Reader (female OC)

➳ Genre(s): College!AU, Professor!AU, Romance, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, & Slight-Angst

➳ Words: 3.5K

➳ Summary: After witnessing your friends become broken hearted over and over, you have vowed to never fall in love. You even develop this tower around your heart in order to protect it. So, what happens when a certain new department chair comes into the picture? Will he successfully tear it down or will he just further prove your worries right?

The faint crackle from a record player slowly enters your ears. This warm, comforting feeling invades your heart as a familiar instrumental begins to sound. The signature sound of your favorite music group, ABBA, fills your office while you dig out a vanilla colored folder from your bag.

You didn’t have any class sessions scheduled until the afternoon, so you have a decent size break. A break that is needed since you’re quite behind on grading your students’ papers.

Why did you assign a ten-page research assignment again? Oh…that’s right…there’s this weird university requirement where the students must write at least two thousand words for the class before the semester is over—and apparently creative writing assignments do not count towards the requirement.

A faint scoff exits your lips as you shake your head, quietly mocking the stupid university requirement. You then reach for one of the many red pens that are bundled together in a mug. You pull off the cap and then put it on the end of the pen.

“Alright…time to get to work…”

You reach for the first of many assignments and start grading…

Or so you’ve hoped…

Not even done with the second submitted assignment, your office door swings open but immediately slams shut. Then, heavy pants combine with the voices of ABBA, creating this sense of alertness within you. However, you remain focus on your goal. The goal of grading at least half of your students’ assignments.

“Isn’t it a bit early for the theatrics, Sumin?” You question with little to no emotion, skimming the contents of the third turned-in assignment.

Soon, a soft yet impactful whine flows through your ears. Oh, goodie… you triggered her.

The younger woman pushes herself away from the door but not before locking it, praying that her loving yet extremely annoying fiancé hasn’t figured out that she’s hiding out in her big “sister’s” office.

She then maneuvers through the semi-mess that is your office and plops her cute little behind on the chair in front of your mahogany wood desk.

A faint amuse smile paints your lips as you peek up from the fifth submitted assignment that’s currently in your hands.

“I’ll ask again, isn’t a bit early for the theatrics, little sis?” You ask again, waiting for her answer.

Sumin frowns and then cocks her head back; her eyes now glued onto the ceiling.

“Why did I agree to marry him again?” She replies in a questioning tone of voice.

Okay…

That’s not the response you’re looking for.

“Maybe because you love him and see yourself spending the rest of your life with him?”

“Ugh…why did it have to be me?”

Your mind registers her question; a chuckle begins to brew within your chest. How fitting that she says that just as the song, that is titled with that question, begins to play. Who would’ve thought that a song which starts off so lively is actually about self-doubt and essentially one-night stands?

Slowly but surely the chuckle starts to surface. Even though you’ve tried your hardest to stifle it.

The last thing you want to is to annoy your rather adorable colleague—though—it’s quite entertaining to do so.

“Let me guess. You were lonesome, almost blue, and it had to be him,” You begin, quickly masking the amused expression that wants to display loud and clear, “But you only wanted a little love affair so now you think it’s better that Seokjin forgets you.” You finish, thinning your lips to prevent the boisterous laugh that’s desperate to come out. Sumin’s face is freaking priceless right now.

Oh…her confusion is always the best thing on this planet. Well, besides ABBA of course.

Sumin opens her mouth but soon closes it, a bit unsure how to phrase her next set of words.

Her brows knit together. Tiny wrinkles form on her forehead.

Minutes pass and this look of realization dawns on her.

“Did you just quote ABBA to me?” questions Sumin, a bit confused as she mentally repeats each lyrics that is being sung.

Finally, the laughter, that brews within your chest, erupts into a loud, lively sensation. Your boisterous chuckle bounces off the four walls of your office, mixing with the music that comes from the record player.

You nod; your laughter slowly dying down, yet you still have the amused smirk gracing your face.

“But in all seriousness, why are you hiding away in my office?” You inquired, setting down yet another graded paper on its designated stack.

Sumin glances away from the ceiling, tilting her head down to establish eye contact with you.

“Because, this is the last place that he’d—” Before she can finish her sentence, someone knocks on your door. Then, a person’s voice follows.

“Princess! I know you’re in there!”

This look of dread washes over your friend’s face. Panic instills in her eyes as she grows unsure. What will she do? She doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. She especially doesn’t want him to think that she regrets accepting his proposal.

She slowly turns towards you and mouths, “help me…”

You make a face. You too are unsure on how to handle their unique situation. Then, an idea pops into your mind. Taking a page from one of your student’s essays, you decide to play couple’s therapy.

Without saying a word, you push back your chair and stand up. You feel Sumin’s gaze on you as you calmly walk over to your door.

“What are you doing…?” You hear your friend ask as she becomes more anxious.

You grasp the door handle and swing it open.

“Easy. I am mending your relationship with your fiancé.” You tell her, revealing a panting Seokjin.

Seokjin muttered a quick thanks as he strides right in your office.

Sumin unleashes a long, annoyed groaned, as she feels betrayed by you.

Oh well. She’ll have to get over it.

“Why are hiding from me, princess?” He asks, taking a seat right next to her.

You chuckle softly as you make your way back to your desk. This ought to be entertaining for you. You plant your ass back in your office chair and move it forward your desk, closing the gap between. It’s always easier to grade papers and stay focus when you are close to your work table.

“Yeah Sumin. Why are you hiding away from your doting fiancé?” You playfully ask, repeating his question.

Sumin rolls her eyes at your comment, silently berating you.

“Because, I can’t take all of this wedding talk!” She practically shouts. Her emotions bursting out.

Seokjin’s eyes widen. His jaw nearly drops to the floor. He feels his heart tighten against his chest after hearing her comment.

You, on the other hand, let out a long wince. You’re just her friend and you feel his pain.

“Then, why did you accept my proposal if you dislike planning our wedding?” He spat, allowing the hurt and anger to consume his mind.

“I never said I disliked planning our wedding!”

“That’s pretty much you mean when you said that you can’t take all of this wedding talk!”

“I mean that I’m being overwhelmed, you insufferable twat!”

“Oh!? So, now I’m being insufferable?!”

“Right now?! Yeah!”

You watch the two of them go back and forth. You honestly feel like you’re watching a tennis match, that’s in a never ending rally. Both of them raising their voices to outdo the other. The insults gradually worsen.

Is this what love is supposed to be? If it is, then you’re glad that you’re single. It seems like love hurts…and it doesn’t help that you already have developed a tiny fear of it. You have seen your friends countlessly broken hearted after being dumped by the one person who has sworn to love them forever.

To protect yourself from it, you decide to focus on your work. You develop this giant wall around your heart, guarding it from any potential suitor that express interest in you.

No broke heart for you…

Not wanting to be yelled by your fellow department members, you shout, hoping to get their attention. Time to play, “couple’s therapy”, or else their relationship is done.

“Okay…seems like you two have some pent up frustrations…” You begin, picking your words carefully as you don’t want to trigger them again.

Both Sumin and Seokjin scoff.

“That’s an understatement…” mutters Sumin, crossing her arms over her chest.

Seokjin nods in agreement.

You purse your lips, exhaling deeply, as you think that you need to tackle this a little differently.

“So, why do you guys have so much bottled emotions? Don’t you guys usually talk it out?” You question, leaning in your seat a little.

“We do, but this fool right next to me believes that everything is just dandy once I apologize for my mistakes. He doesn’t even remotely admit that he was in the wrong too!” Sumin answers. Her voice raising a bit near the end.

Seokjin becomes offended by her words. He then refutes her claims by stating that he does acknowledge his mistakes, but it is her own damn fault for not listening to him. Then, that triggers her again.

You stare at them in disbelief as they engage in another bickering war.

For the love of God…

“Okay! Enough you two! What you guys are doing has to stop or just fucking break up! You two constantly arguing over the littlest of shit is quite frankly toxic, and it makes me fucking glad that I’m single!” Your anger bursts out of your body. You breathe heavily, staring intensely at the two. You just want to get back to grading since your free time is almost over.

Both Sumin and Seokjin shyly glance at each other. Their hearts aching at the thought of them no longer being a pair. Something has to change or else they will have to part ways for the sake of their sanity.

“I’m sorry.” They said in unison, looking incredibly apologetic.

You eye them oddly, feeling a bit confused at how fast they apologized. Maybe you will think about becoming a couple’s therapist as a side job. It doesn’t hurt to earn a little extra money.

“It’s not like I’m fed up with planning our wedding. I’m just…feeling a bit overwhelmed with everything.” Sumin confesses, explaining her recent behavior. Though, she knows that doesn’t give her the excuse to be uncooperative.

Seokjin places his hand on top of hers, squeezing it just a bit.

“What’s got you so overwhelmed, princess?”

“Just that we got this new dean in my department, and I hear that he’s terminating people’s position based on the success rate of their students last semester,” Sumin pauses for a moment, “And as you know, I didn’t have that great of semester during the Spring…” She finishes as this look of concern washes over.

You eye your friend sadly, not wanting her to be fired over something so little. It’s not her fault that her students gave up halfway after seeing that her class isn’t this “throw away” class where you earn easy credits. No. Just like with your class, if you want an “A” in her class, then you do the work. Plain and simple.

As you open your mouth to say some encouraging words, the three of you hear a knock.

Your brows furrow together as you aren’t aware that a student has come to see you during your office hours.

You tell the couple that you’ll be right back as you push your chair away. You stand up and head over to the office door. You swiftly open it, not wanting to keep your student waiting.

“I’m incredibly sorry. I wasn’t aware that I had someone scheduled to come in during…my…office…hours…” Your voice slows as you see a man, nicely dressed in a dark grey suit with his hair styled just a bit, standing outside instead of a student.

Oh…that’s extremely awkward…

“Pardon my intrusion, but my name is Kim Junmyeon, and I am your new department head.” He introduces, holding out his hand for you to shake.

You remain standing there; your mouth slightly ajar, looking like a complete idiot. Your pupils dilate just a bit. You feel your face grow warm while your heart starts to race.

In short…you’ve become smitten with the handsome man in front of you.

Sumin, noticing that you haven’t said anything in almost a minute, peeks behind your body.

“I apologize for my friend, she’s usually articulate in these types of situation!” You hear Sumin tease, forcibly pulling you away from your conflicted thoughts.

You lightly slap your face, pulling yourself together. Though, you’re certain that you just made a bigger fool of yourself.

Luckily…Junmyeon doesn’t think so. Unknown to you, he finds it a bit cute that you’ve become awestruck. Normally, that happens to his friends Jongin and Chanyeol due to how extremely handsome they are. While, with him, he deems himself as average. Seeing your eyes widen and your lips slightly open makes him feel—happy.

“That’s quite alright.” He chuckles as he drops his hand, acknowledging that he’s not getting a hand shake, “I usually get that myself, so I know that feeling.” He says, smiling at you. He needs to stop though or else you might actually fall for him. “As I was saying, I am the new department head for literature, and I wanted to get to know my fellow colleagues.” He states, explaining his presence near your office.

You nod with a friendly smile.

“Oh. Well, hello! I’m Y/N L/N, and I teach composition theories and practices and introduction to the literature of the United States and British Isles for this department.” You finally introduce yourself, feeling a bit proud of the subjects that you’re so graciously bestowed with.

Junmyeon can’t help but feel impress with your topics, especially with British literature. He always finds that subject to be quite difficult since British literature has a wide range of authors and eras with different issues that need to be known.

Yeah…it makes his brain hurt just thinking about it…

“Well, it is nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you and maybe seeing you around in the office.” He says before bidding farewell to you.

You say a quick, “okay”, as you close your office door. Though, you swear that your voice cracked just a little. Great.

A long, content filled sigh leaves your lips. You remain still, alone with your thoughts. You try to wrap your mind around the fact that your department chair makes you this silly school girl with a crush. You can’t possible feel this way over someone you’ve just met. No. It’s not possible. Yes, you don’t deny that he’s handsome but, at the same time, it’s highly inappropriate to think so. You need to squash these feelings quickly.

With a determined smile, you walk back to your desk. Not to grade your students’ assignments, but to gather your class material as it’s time for your next session.

“So…you’re not going to pursue him?” You hear Sumin ask, registering the playfulness in her tone.

“Seokjin, can’t you control your fiancée?” You question, ignoring Sumin’s knowing smirk and the teasing gleam in her eyes.

Seokjin laughs, “Oh, I wish I could, but you and I both know that she does what she wants. I’m just here to make sure that she doesn’t get in trouble whenever you or Kat are not around.”

This time you laugh, agreeing with his statement.

“Speaking of Kat, how is her relationship with what’s his face?”

“Chanyeol? Last time I heard, it’s good, especially when she says that he makes her “wetter than a wet nap”.”

“Gross. I didn’t need to know that.”

“Well…you asked…”

A few weeks later, things have returned to normal. Well – as normal as they can be – since the semester is nearing the end and everything is becoming fast-pace. You still have papers to grade. Projects to assign to your students. It’s just one giant tornado of assignments that need to be release. You even have students coming up to you and inquiring how they can raise their grades. Now, that means you have to create extra credit opportunities. Which means…more grading…

Currently packing away your lecture materials, you say goodbye to each and every one of your students as they exit the classroom. You turn off the computer, making sure to grab your thumb drive in the process.

And just as you’re ready to exit the room, you hear someone knocking. They even announce that they’re knocking.

“Ah, Y/N! I was hoping that I would find you here.” Says a familiar voice, causing you to smile.

“Well, Mr. Kim, I’m always in this room until about 10:15 A.M.” You playfully point out as you walk over to the door, which Junmyeon politely holds open for you before trailing after you.

“Of course, I knew that,” He scratches his neck nervously, “Anyway, I was wondering if you would like to grab a cup of coffee with me before your next lecture.” He says, trying his hardest to sound confident.

From what Sumin has told him, you like strong, confident people. Bonus points if they’re dorky and funny, which he is – or at least – that’s what his friends tell him. All. The. Fucking. Time. If only he hasn’t known them since their high school days, he would’ve gotten new friends by now.

“I mean, if it is too forward of me to be asking you this, then I take it back!” He quickly adds, observing your long silence, as the two of you exit the liberal arts building.

You snap out of your thoughts, “Huh? Oh! You’re not being forward at all! I was just um recalling what I had to do before the weekend comes.” You explain with an apologetic smile, embarrassed about your actions.

However, Junmyeon waves away your explanation, citing that you never have to apologize for worrying about work. He adds that he understands completely. While, he doesn’t lecture as often as you do, he juggles his lecture position with his department chair position. And that is not fun whatsoever. There have been times he accidentally brought his lecture materials to his meetings with other department chairs and vice versa. So if anyone understands your struggles, it’s him.

And that is something that makes you feel appreciative. That is also why the wall around your heart is almost gone. Since the first day the two of you have met, you feel this strong pull. But – of course – you ignore them as you allow the fear of falling in love control your happiness. You even chant repeatedly that it’s inappropriate for two colleagues to even remotely express interest in each other.

So…why…?

Why has he continued to show a keen interest in you?

Ranging from leaving a nice fresh cup of coffee on your office desk to happily buying you lunch.

Seriously. His sweet gestures show no chance of stopping anytime soon – and it only fuels the warmness in your heart. Lately, you find yourself smiling softly or blushing like a fool whenever you see his little presents or even just thinking about him.

Hearing his name alone sent the butterflies in your tummy into a wild frenzy. And when you’ve talked this out with Sumin, that’s when it finally occurred to you.

You no longer fear love. You no longer fear the idea of arguing with him over something little. As you recall your friend’s wise words,

“Honestly, you should worry when he doesn’t fight you on something. Seokjin arguing with me, here and there, shows that he cares enough in this relationship to let me know that ‘hey, I’m here, and I’m not going let some petty argument get the best of us.’ Most of the time, I’m in the wrong, and I freely admit that once I’ve cooled down and see his perspective of the situation.” Sumin smiles softly, “And, I wouldn’t have known that if he didn’t argue back.” She finishes before taking a sip of her peach flavored green tea.

If arguing means that he will never let you down, then you’ll gladly accept that.

“Of course, I’ll love to get a cup of coffee with you.” You say. Your eyes practically beaming with happiness.

Junmyeon’s eyes widen in return. His heart skipping a beat. His tummy doing somersaults. To say that he feels like he won the jackpot would be an understatement.

He feels that the Gods of romance finally bestowed him the chance at happiness. He has never met someone who connects with him on a personal level before. Most of the time, it’s been fake. The women he unfortunately went out on a date with, only wanted to get to know his friends. Women only see him as this stepping stool to get to his friends but not you.

No…

You’re special.

“Would it be alright if I call this a date?”

“I’ll do you one better. Pick me up this Saturday evening at 6:00 P.M.”

“Perfect.”

A/N: I FINALLY FINISHED ONE OF THE XMAS PRESENTS! If you can’t tell this is for @yehet-me-up Sarah AKA Suho’s queen! She has written me a birthday drabble last year and honestly, she’s just an amazing person. While, I do not talk to her about any problem that I have, I know that she would listen to my worries if I ever did. She is one of the brightest and warmest person on this site, and I just love her. She is like my Tumblr big sister, who likes to make me suffer here and there. I will forever be grateful to have her in my life and value my friendship with her.

I hope you like this one shot! I may not be writer goals like you and Kat LOL but I tried my best, especially listening to the “Mamma Mia 2: Here We Go Again” soundtrack on repeat lol I love you Sarah! :)

Side note: @yeoltidecarol I had to mention Kat and one of her infamous tags when it comes to Chanyeol ;)

Don’t forget to leave a comment/like/reblog/a message in my inbox! I love hearing your thoughts! :)

- Kim

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deanssweetheart23 · 5 years

Text

Happy New Year; my best wishes (and an explanation)

My dear friends and wonderful followers,

How are you all? I’ve missed you so, so much. I know I disappeared. Again. Without a warning this time. And for far too long. And I really am very sorry for going incommunicado out of the blue, and making people worry and not reading your beautiful words or posting any new stories, but, please let me tell you.

These past few months have been freaking wild.

Disclaimer: The story under the cut is long. Feel free to ignore it, but, please, let me tell you I am not leaving Tumblr and will write everything I have promised in time.

Now...

I’m a senior at college this year, so as you can understand, my college life is just one big project after the other. In the past two months, I had to submit four different papers, attend two different workshops as well as a bunch of make-up classes at widely inconvenient hours and I already have two more literary essays to work on along with a literary presentation on Jean Rhys. And because, obviously, I don’t know when or how to stop I am also currently attending eight different online classes because they seemed cool and I really wanted to add them to my CV *rolls eyes at herself*

I also doubled my hours at the gym. I followed a specific medical treatment that made me gain weight last year, and I’m trying to get my butt back into shape now that I’m meds free. And I love it. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a bumpy journey filled with burpees and hours spent on the treadmill (I literally run for an hour nonstop,even my CrossFit instructor is impressed, lol), and painful training sessions at CrossFit and Aerobics class, but it has paid off. I’m definitely getting back to my old self and I’ve made so many good friends over these past few months. It’s a win, isn’t it?

Next on the list: Driving lessons. I’ve been putting this off for a long time (I used to be terrified of getting behind a wheel, to be honest) and I started this September. Granted, my classes are done, but there’s been a strike for the past four months, so I can’t seat the practical exams to get my driving license. Talk about bad timing. *sigh* I think I have mostly forgotten everything I learnt. Anyway, I’m hoping the exams will open sometime in January and I will be able to schedule an examination sometime in April (because there are currently 50000 more people waiting for the exams to restart just like me). Keep your fingers crossed for me, wil you?

A lowkey crush (*spoiler alert* it didn’t end well but I honestly don’t even mind) and the never-ending preparations of traveling to the US because --guess what-- I am visiting my sunflower @trexrambling this April took a bunch of my time and energy (no regrets though, I get to hug Jess again *runs around in circles*)

And most importantly. I had to figure out what I’d do with my future. Like I said, I’m finishing off college this year, so I needed to think, long and hard, what direction I wanted to take with my master’s program and whether I’d travel abroad to study starting September 2019 or in 2020. After many anxiously sleepless nights and hours spent researching different academic programs, I think I have a concrete plan of what I will be doing next and I really, really love it. Wish me luck?

Still, as busy as these past few months have been, I am happier than I have been in a while.

I feel so active, so present in everything that is happening in my life and it’s just heartbreakingly beautiful. I know many of you know I went through a rough patch this autumn (I still can’t thank everyone who reached out enough), but I think I went through what I went through for a good reason. I’m doing good now, I’m going out a lot (I’m feeling such wanderlust, it’s ridiculous) and I smile and laugh even more than I used to. I’m more than okay with that.

However, I do miss writing. A lot.

So, no. I am not going away or giving up Tumblr or anything. I know lots of things have changed since the last time I posted here (Tumblr’s guidelines being one of them), but my intend to share my words with you is the same.

As promised, I will finish my series rewrite, Against All Odds (it’s actually written, I just have to make some small adjustions) and write the epilogue to Somewhere Only We Know.

I will write the AU about Italy that’s been in my mind forever. The college AU fake-dating fic based on Take My Hand will also happen as well, but I will have to adjust my outline since it can’t be a Christmas story anymore for *coughs* obvious reasons. Since these two stories will be long, these are my writing plans for now, but I have some more ideas I’m hoping I’ll be able to put into actual words eventually.

And, of course, I want to get back to reading your stories and interacting with all of you. All I’m asking you is to, please, be patient with me. It’s going to take me a while to balance everything, and I still might fall a little behind here, but I will be around. I can’t give up on you, guys.

Anyway. This is what I had to say. To the ones who read all of this, thank you. You have shown me so much love and appreciation and have given me so much joy over these past couple of years I could never, ever thank you enough.

Here’s to a brilliant,. healthy and wholesome 2019, filled with endless moments of pure joy, infinite happiness and unconditional love.

Tags: @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @trexrambling @percywinchester27 @torn-and-frayed @atwistoffate @there-must-be-a-lock @masksandtruths @princess-shurii @lipstickandwhiskey @sunlightdances @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @ravengirl94 @hannahindie @escabell @kathaswings @dreamingdean @becs-bunker @wordstothewisereaders @imagining-supernatural @sgarrett49 @iwriteaboutdean @mogaruke @spngeronimo @ruprecht0420 @captainemwinchester @pickupthatamulet @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @wellthatsrandomkek @winchestersnco @jayankles @winchesters-flannels @akshi8278 @persephone-divine @tiny-friggin-human @keepcalmandcarryondean @becominglionhearted @polina-93 @mandilion76 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @ravenangel33 @holahellohialoha @atc74 @dancingalone21 @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @juanitadiann @yourvoiceislikearose @sinistersaltqueen @carryonmyswansong-archive @emoryhemsworth @superapplepie @princess-of-erebor1992 @bebravekeeponfighting @carryonmywaywardcaptain @sebastianshoe @kleinkariertebetrachter @stellaa33 @samisimportant-blog @jessilliam-caronday @shutupiminlooove @annoyingpeople-postingthings @waywardlodging @caitthejourno @no-shit-sherl0ck @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @superflurry @mrswhozeewhatsis @starry-chaos @rlawson418 @novaddictx @caeruli @itssmallerontheoutside-13 @may-darling @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @adoptdontshoppets @jessikared97

#about the author #why yes I am alive #I AM BACK GUYS #for real

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fuckingthefictional · 5 years

Text

Please don’t leave.

Imagine: peter coming to you because he doesn’t know what to get may for Christmas.

M a s t e r l i s t

A/N: I’m so sorry if this is shit and late, I had an art exam today at school which was 5 hours long and I was so tired that I ended up sleeping until late evening x

Doing homework was a fucking nightmare to be perfectly honest. Here you were sat at your desk listening to the heavy traffic outside of your window and trying to do your physics homework. Trying being the keyword in that sentence.

Meanwhile your boyfriend was done with this week’s homework and was finishing up on his extra credit essays, before he’d leave his apartment and take on the role of the neighborhood friendly Spiderman.

You’d long given up on trying to keep up with Peter, he was basically a genius and was always two steps ahead of everyone else.

It’s not like you were jealous, you were proud of how far he’d come in the past year or so. Okay so maybe you were a little jealous.

Sometimes you felt as if he didn’t need you, that he was so capable that he didn’t need you to drag him down.

Peter would disagree though; in fact a few seconds after even thinking about ‘not being enough’, you heard the buzz of your phone vibrating against the dark wooden surface.

You pressed the on button and immediately noticed it was Peter.

I need your help with something asap xx

Your brows furrowed slightly you let out a few mutters of confusion and disbelief. Peter Parker? Asking for...help? Unheard of.

You texted him s short reply back before putting the phone back to its original spot next to the piles of papers.

By the time you looked back up at the time an hour had passed. You didn’t mean to let time slip through your fingers, but on the plus side you had finished pretty much all the homework that was due in.

On the down side, you had only just noticed that you had about 14 unread texts from your boyfriend as well as 11 missed calls.

You were about to call him back when you heard a knock coming from your window.

Low and behold there he was, stood on the balcony; face full of worry.

You hurried over and pulled up the window, giving him entrance to your room.

“Jesus Y/N! Why didn’t you pick up? I was worried sick!”

You smiled slightly but rolled your eyes none the less, “Well Mom, I was finishing up my homework so I don’t fail this semester.”

Peter looked as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, he ran his fingers through his hair and mumbled incomprehensibly.

You sat next to him and leant your head down on his shoulder, “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know what to get May for Christmas.” He looked back at you, “and you’re the most thoughtful person I know so I thought I’d ask you.”

You found yourself thinking for a minute, “make her something that she’ll treasure. Maybe like a necklace or tickets to go see someone. The other option would be to make a photo album or something. I can help if you want?”

Peter looked up and into your eyes, “this is yet another reason why I love you.”

He leant in for a quick peck before he got to work.

“And we’re finally done.”

“It looks good, May is gonna love it.”

Peter gazed at your through his thick eyelashes, his eyes expressing complete and utter love and devotion.

“I love you, y’know.”

“I love you too.” You sighed softly, “I’m scared Pete.”

He immediately became worried again, searching for something in your eyes that would give away his you were feeling.

Something you actively avoided by look down at your hands.

Peter however wasn’t having it, he gently pushed your chin up to meet his gaze, “What’s wrong baby?”

You choked back a sob, “Are you going to leave me?” You smacked your lips together, trying to delay the quivering sobs that were trying to pry themselves out.

Peter looked shocked, hurt even.

“Why would I ever willingly let you go? You’re my girl. My everything. I’d be lost without you.”

You took a shaky breath, “I overheard Liz at lunch saying how much she loves Spiderman.” Tears pricked at your eyes, “And she’s everything that I’m not: pretty, smart, kind, popular. She could give you everything.” A sob broke through the barrier between your lips. You buried you face in your hands, almost immediately you felt your boyfriend wrapping his arms around you and stroking your hair softly.

He whispered sweet nothings into your ears, “You’re the one I want, you’re the one I hope to marry some day. The one I want to start a family with. You not Liz. It will always be you. I would always choose you over any other girl.”

You nodded softly, “I love you Spiderboy.”

“Spiderman.” He chuckled, you could practically envision the contours around his cheeks and eyes that appeared when he laughed, “but seriously, I love you more than anything in the world Y/N/N.”

You looked up at him, smiling at his words and leant in for a soft kiss; your hands slid up to his hair and you gave his curly locks a firm tug. This erupted a guttural groan from the back of Peter’s throat.

His hands went down your figure, feeling the curves of your physique. He eventually worked his way down to your ass, giving it a squeeze from time to time.

You pushed him down onto the bed, crawling on top of his waist. You slowly slipped your shirt off over your head, teasing the lust filled boy underneath you.

Peter had, had enough with the teasing from you. He pulled your hips forward so that you fell forwards, kisses were placed feverishly anywhere he could access.

You found yourself laughing breathily, “And to think-“ Kiss, “All of this-“ kiss, “Stemmed from-“ Sloppy kisses were placed down your neck to your collarbone to the tops of your breasts, “Making a C-Christmas gift f-for May.” You moaned as his lips went lower and lower.

You being the ever sarcastic girl, threw one more comment in before submitting yourself to the dork underneath you.

“Honestly baby, there’s not even any mistletoe in here.”

He sniggered, jerking his hips upwards trying to cause some friction between the pair of you, “That’s hilarious Y/N! You really think I need some stupid plant to say if I can kiss my girl.”

‘My girl’ man you could get used to that.

#peter parker x y/n #peterparkerxreader #peter parker x you #peterparker #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman #mcu #tomholland #tom holland

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whaleyoufeedmenuggets · 5 years

Note

Im too lazy to look at the questions so DO ALL OF THEM. (if you dont wanna then go on a random number generator and get 5 random numbers)

ITS REALLY LONG BUT I DID IT KJSHADJS HERE GOES i love oversharing my lifealso im putting a read more line bc its hella long

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

water bottles

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

ehhh depends on my mood. i’d say it’s (dark) chocolate most of the time (love that 70% dark chocolate mmMmMm)

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

cotton candy!! except when it gets all over my face and hair o no

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

common report book comments included

- very active

- bright

- “the live wire of the class”

- usually distracted but still does well

- mischievous

- playful

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

bottles so that i can close it and save the rest for later and not have to chug it yeet

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

sportswear #sweatpantsalldayeveryday

7. earbuds or headphones?

def headphones but they’re inconvenient sometimes :/

8. movies or tv shows?

tv shows!! (also, my adhd ass can’t get through a movie without zoning out oops)

9. favorite smell in the summer?

i haven’t experienced /real/ summer (thank u singapore’s tropical climate) but i rly like the smell of rain :”)

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

making up excuses to skip pe

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

belvitas before morning practice

croissant sandwich and chocolate milk after practice

if there’s no practice, then scrambled eggs from the dining hall lolol

if i’m too lazy to go to the dining hall, then cereal

12. name of your favorite playlist?

it’s literally called jams and the description is “a clusterfuck of stuff i’ve jammed to at some point”

13. lanyard or key ring?

key ring

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

gummy bears/sour patch kids

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

death of a salesman - arthur miller

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

with one foot up on the chair and the other leg sitting normally

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

a pair of asics sneakers

18. ideal weather?

15ºc/60ºf when its like cool but not too cold but also not ridiculously hot and also when theres no insane wind (a light breeze is fine)

19. sleeping position?

on my left side and hugging a pillow/bolster/soft toy

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

i like the feeling of pen and paper but im disorganized as hell so an apple pencil + ipad makes a good enough substitute

21. obsession from childhood?

frogs (i’ve loved them since i was 3 hehe)

22. role model?

a dude i used to train with for a while in 2014. he retired last year but he’s always looked out for me like an older brother since we trained together (he’s 8 years older than me lmao) and even thought i’m so far away rn he still checks in on me and stuff and idk he’s probably one of the swimmers i respect the most.

23. strange habits?

i cant fall asleep at night if im not hugging something. like. it could be a pillow. or a soft toy. literally anything. once on a school trip i hugged a pair of sweatpants to sleep bc i legit cant fall asleep if im not hugging something.i have no problem falling asleep in class/on buses/cars/planes though.

24. favorite crystal?

idk i never really paid enough attention to crystals to actually have a favorite and know their names. they’re all rly pretty tho.

25. first song you remember hearing?

uhh h h i honestly can’t remember. probably some classical music bc i played the violin and that was my first experience of music that i was actually aware of????

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

switch on the aircon and take a nap / sit in bed on netflix/playing on my nintendo switch. and swimming outdoors i guess.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

switch on the heater and take a nap / sit in bed on netflix/playing on my nintendo switch.

do u see a pattern here

28. five songs to describe you?

jet lag - simple plan (bc time zones suck and i miss my fam & friends)

avalanche - bring me the horizon (pretty much sums up how tf my brain feels)

high hopes - p!atd

astronaut - simple plan

the reckless and the brave - all time low

29. best way to bond with you?

doing dumb shit with me

also Quality Time™️ like idk even if we’re chilling and doing our own shit i like just spending time with people im comfortable enough with

30. places that you find sacred?

idk

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

a hoodie and sweatpants

for no reason other than that’s what i wear 90% of the time

32. top five favorite vines?

I AM CONFUSION!!! AMERICA EXPLAIN

this bitch empty. yeet.

im in my mom’s car VROOM VROOM

the one of that dad playing the saxophone (???) and the kid slamming the oven door open and shut

road works ahead “haha yea sure hope it does!”

33. most used phrase in your phone?

either lmao or lolol or LMFAO or yeet

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

gOD i had spotify ads stuck in my head all the time before i switched to premium and now i cant remember any of them (thank god)

35. average time you fall asleep?

i’d say 12:30-1ish

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

the tROLL FACE MEME LIKE those rage faces idk what they’re called but BASICALLY THOSE 2010-2012 era memes

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

suitcase!!! i like sitting on them and yeeting myself around on them or getting people to push me around and then falling off

38. lemonade or tea?

lemonade

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

ngl i havent had either of them before

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

so in jc2 (aka 12th grade), for some reason PEOPLE WERE PUTTING PRE-PACKAGED HARD BOILED EGGS ALL OVER THE SCHOOL. like they were still in their wrappers and all but u could open ur schoolbag and find like 5 eggs in there. and no one knew where they came from. i think at one point there were even eggs hanging from the pull-up bars. all i know is that they were everywhere and people in my batch still remember it as the egg invasion of acjc.

41. last person you texted?

my mom

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

def jacket!!! especially when they have zips hehe

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

hoodie

44. favorite scent for soap?

idk man depends on my mood

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

sci-fi bc im a fricken nerd

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

shirt and sweats

47. favorite type of cheese?

cheddarrr also i like mozzerrella sticks

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

a fineapple B)

lmao jk ummmm maybe a watermelon bc when u hit it it sounds hollow, just like how my skull would sound if someone hit it (h a)

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

here for a good time not for a long time

never give up without a fight

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

idk probably some dumb meme. i laugh at a lot of stuff like i laugh anything even mildly funny. some that i can think of off the top of my head are:

- i was tryna type ducky but typed fucky instead and sOmEOnE (could be the person who submitted this ask, idk tho) changed my facebook messenger nickname to fucky and the notification was like ”poopy butthole changed your nickname to fucky” and i think that’s still the funniest sentence i’ve read in my whole life

- one time we went to mcdonalds and a friend said mcfluffy instead of mcflurry and idk why but i laughed so hard at that

- once @doduo and i spent half a chinese lesson cutting out random faces from the chinese newspaper and sticking them randomly all over the classroom and idk. it was the funniest thing ever. until the teacher came over and confiscated my scissors rip.

51. current stresses?

- an essay draft (that i am procrastinating rn by doing this, oops)

- CANADIAN TRIALS (but thats a good kind of stress)

- submitting a proposal for a group project but none of my groupmates are freaking replying my texts ugh

52. favorite font?

avenir next!! i find san serif fonts way easier to read than serif lolol.i like helvetica neue too.

53. what is the current state of your hands?

dry af but also i just got my nails done so they pretty rn hehe

54. what did you learn from your first job?

i…havent had a real job yet

55. favorite fairy tale?

idk i was never rly one for fairy tales even as a kid.

56. favorite tradition?

chinese new year when we get CASH and we spend 3 days just eating junk yEET im rly sad im gonna be missing it the next few years tho

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

hh h h hh hhh hh hh they’re pretty personal i don’t /really/ wanna put it out here but i can text you the answer to this if you want (i’m perfectly fine with that!!)

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

- i think i’m pretty intuitive!!! i can guess anyone’s mbti if i’ve spent enough time with them/gotten a detailed enough description of them /winks/ and i can read people pretty well in general and i can draw links to themes/symbols in lit pretty well….???

- i’m somewhat decent at lettering…i think

- i’m good at pull-ups and also vertical jumps i’m secretly a froge

- i’m decent at photography…i guess….

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

yeet

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

pokemon !!

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

/sweats/ i’m not very good at remembering lines from books/movies/shows WELP

62. seven characters you relate to?

JAKE PERALTA - b99

rosa diaz - b99

linguine - ratatouille (he’s permanently confused and he let a ratto take over his job bc he had no idea what he was doing like damn what a big mood)

dory - finding nemo/finding dory (i relate to the forgetfulness)

percy jackson

kale bae /winks/

mitt (during bad phases) /winks again, but sadly/

63. five songs that would play in your club?

idek man i wouldnt even be at my own club i’d be at home taking a nap i’ll just ask someone else to handle my playlist

64. favorite website from your childhood?

club penguin !!!

65. any permanent scars?

yE one of them was from jumping onto a treadmill going at 13km/h 2 years ago bc i thought i was a good idea

66. favorite flower(s)?

i dont have any

67. good luck charms?

i eat pancakes for breakfast on meet days!!!! altho i think this is more of a habit than a good luck charm tbh lmao.

also i guess pip???? he’s my emotional support narwhal :’)

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

durian. i cant stand the stuff or anything flavored like it ugh.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

red food coloring is derived from beetles

70. left or right handed?

right

71. least favorite pattern?

overly-floral patterns i guessssss. also i hate wearing stripes.

72. worst subject?

chinese

besides that, math and physics

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

i rly like vanilla ice cream and fries

also i would eat ketchup with nearly anything

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

i usually just suck it up and go to sleep when it comes to pain but i guess an 8??? idk. i usually take advil/ibuprofen only for fevers

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

i got my first loose tooth on january 11 2005 and it fell out on january 18 2005 & it was a tuesday (pls don’t ask me how i remember this bc i dont know)

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

tater tots

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

cactus i guess. idk im not good at plants.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

grocery store sushi (it was pretty decent in singapore so yeeeee lmao also i ate a lot of that as a kid)

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

its the same photo for both so yeAh

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

earth

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

idk i always called them fireflies

82. pc or console?

console I LOVE THE FEEL OF BUTTONS

83. writing or drawing?

drawing (more like doodlign for me bc i cant draw for shit)

84. podcasts or talk radio?

neither but if i rlllllly had to choose then podcasts i guessss s sss

84. barbie or polly pocket?

neither LMAO i gave all my barbies haircuts when i was a kid bc i didnt know what to do with them

85. fairy tales or mythology?

mythology for sure!! i love greek mythology (may or may not be bc of percy jackson lolol)

86. cookies or cupcakes?

87. your greatest fear?

losing those i love and care about (could be drifting or actual death it goes both ways)

88. your greatest wish?

rn, for my essay to write itself

for the short-term, to make the olympics (and WUGs…and worlds…and sea games…and asian games…and commonwealth games lmao)

for the long-term, uhhh idk. i just wanna live a life i’m satisfied with and to have a job i actually like and to be able to support my parents

89. who would you put before everyone else?

my mom

90. luckiest mistake?

i always say that i regret doing a year of college in singapore instead of coming here for freshman year but if i’d come in a year earlier like i was supposed to, i proba wouldn’t have made it past swim team tryouts and i made some pretty great friends in my first year of college soooo it all worked out i guessi cant think of any others rn

91. boxes or bags?

bags

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

fairy lights are rly pretty!!but i like natural light :”)

93. nicknames?

deb

debs

debo

debbo

alpha childuhh h h i think thats about it??? i cant remember any others

94. favorite season?

spring’s pretty great rni like fall too (before it gets cOLd)

95. favorite app on your phone?

insta/tumblr/telegram

96. desktop background?

a photo of me looking rly cool at the starting blocks before a race B)

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

4 - mine (singapore & US), my mom’s and my dad’s

98. favorite historical era?

uhh h h idk the ice age seemed pretty cool haha sike it was actually coldmedieval times seemed pretty cool too like damn i want a suit of armorWHEW I SPENT WAY TOO MUCH TIME ON THIS but i had fun so yeet

also if you read all the way down here ily and you’re cool

#ask #this was hella long #but also hella fun

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