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celestialrry · 3 years

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stood up

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hello everyone!!!! I've been awol for literally weeks because i had absolutely NO motivation to write but i finally finished this piece ˊᗜˋ so YAY. ALSOO thank you for following me, liking, and reblogging my pieces (it encourages me somuchsothankyouireallyappreciateit-- and remember reblogging really helps us writers :))) ) here’s a hug for all ur patience and feel free to send me asks or requests i love talking to you guys! ε(♡'-')з

summary: Harry keeps standing Y/N up. (request from @ballerinrry! thank u love)

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol and sex, angsty but with a happy ending cause for some reason i can never let them end on a bad note

Y/N was excited.

It had been a while since Harry had asked her to go on a date, it was always the other way around recently. She couldn’t blame him though, Y/N knew just how busy Harry always was, and it wasn’t like he was purposefully not asking her to go do things, he just had a lot on his plate.

That’s what she kept telling herself anyways.

It’s what she told herself when it had been 2 weeks since they had even eaten a meal together, and given the fact that just a few months ago Harry had come back to London for a while, that was rare. So, Y/N asked him to grab lunch on a Saturday while they were lying in bed together, and when he agreed, but failed to show up, leaving Y/N sitting at the cafe, her lips morphed into a frown and her eyes not focusing on the phone in front of her, she told herself he was simply booked up with meetings and studio time and such.

Thats what he told her when he got into bed that night to apologize for accidentally standing her up. She forgave him, of course, and suggested they could just get dinner the next week. He agreed, even walked around to his calander her to show her he was marking the date off in his calendar with a heart, her first initial, and 7:00 PM etched into the little box with red sharpie.

So, the week passed with quick kisses of good mornings and good nights, and while Harry was gone Y/N had on a black dress she had been excited to wear for a while now, with those little mini silver heels and a coat strung over her shoulders as she sat on her couch waiting for Harry to swing by to pick her up. She shot him a text that simply asked “You otw? xx”

He was not.

It took about 30 minutes of waiting on their couch to realize he was standing her up, again. And it took until the next morning for Harry to see her text (his phone had been on do not disturb while he was at the studio and he ended up spending the night at Sarah and Mitch’s after a few beers), and for the guilt to seep through his veins.

He apologized, again. And Y/N forgave him, again.

Only until it got to the point where Y/N no longer remembered the amount of times Harry had stood her up, for being at the studio, or sleeping after a meeting, or simply just not paying attention to his phone, she knew there was a problem.

Harry was fully aware of the problem too. He knew that this was no way to ever treat a partner, and if someone was doing this to him, he’d dump them— well, he’s never been one to end a relationship unless it was necessary, so that’s an exaggeration, but it’s the principle of the thing.

Which is why when he got home one day around 11 PM, gave her a kiss to the forehead after she sat up in their bed to give him a hug, and a soft “Can we talk?” escaped her lips, he knew he had to fix this. So he asked her if they could talk over dinner the next night, he just wanted to sleep but also wanted to fix things with his girl, asking her if she was free of course, before telling her he’s gonna make a reservation at that nice restaurant the two of them used to go to quite often, because “it’s been a while since I’ve taken my favorite girl out”.

A grin broke out on her face because he had asked her! And if Harry was planning it, there’s no way he’d cancel or stand her up.

So yeah, Y/N was excited.

She woke up that morning with a smile on her face, and something akin to a what she thinks a rainbow would feel like running through her veins. It had only been a few months since she’d last been on a date with her boyfriend of almost 2 years and a half in person, and she was going to make the most of it. Because after this date, things would change. They’d spend more time together again and it would be like this little bump (that neither had acknowledged) never happened.

Y/N did, well, everything to prepare. Took a long shower, shaved, put on that coconut lotion Harry likes— he tended to dig his face in her neck when he smelled it while holding her—, brushed her teeth more than 3 times, dug in her closet to find that one patterned soft purple dress she bought ages ago but never had a change to wear it, until now, put on those really cute heels Harry said he liked once (“Looks like something you’d wear on a runway pet, I love ‘em.”), and even styled her hair differently than normal.

He had told her he would swing by at 8 on the dot after the studio, and soon enough, it was 8, with no sign from the man who made the promise himself. Y/N thought maybe there was traffic, he was just running late, texted him a quick, “Can’t wait to see you!! xxx” and put her phone on the coffee table, waiting on their couch.

8 turned to 9, 9 turned to 10, 10 turned to 11, and soon it was midnight. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever felt more empty than how she felt then, walking to their shared room of a year, slipping off her heels and tossing them towards the closet, as well as pulling her dress over herself and letting it fall to the floor behind her, grabbing that one t-shirt she always wears when she needs comfort (which just happened to an extra 2018 Live on Tour shirt Harry had laying around that she snatched just 3 months into them dating), and flopping into bed.

She couldn’t fall asleep, and instead spent her time curled up in their bedsheets, a steady flow of tears making their way down her blush covered cheeks.

。:°ஐ

Harry usually didn’t make mistakes.

Sure, he had his moments, grabbing the wrong coffee off the counter when his name was called at the cafe, forgetting to text Jeff that he actually couldn’t make it to a meeting that was scheduled in a few hours. Just little things, things that didn’t matter that much, and could always be fixed. He didn’t usually make mistakes that weren’t easy to fix. He just wasn’t that kind of guy.

Until, he was.

Harry loved Y/N. He loved having her around, loved spending time with her, loved loving on her, loved kissing her, loved touching her, loved the way she went about almost everything. He was so in love with her, that hurting her was out of the question. He never wanted to be the one to make her cry, make her bottom lip quiver before the tears rushed out like he’d seen many times before, due to movies, his songs (which as sadistic as it sounds was an ego builder to have someone so close to him so affected by the music he wrote), her school work, or even her friends that weren’t being so nice.

In fact, he was so in love with her, even being so afraid of commitment (it took him over a year of them dating to ask her to move in), all he wanted to do was blurt out those 4 dreaded words. “Will you marry me?” It was a bond for life, and he was terrified of that, but with Y/N all he wanted to do was spend the rest of his living days with her.

When Harry had come back from being in L.A. for so long and finally being in the same city as his girlfriend back at their home, all they did was spend time together. Every time he saw Y/N all he wanted to do was say those 4 words that he hadn’t even fully come to terms with himself. It was dangerous, and Harry’s self control when it came to Y/N was lacking, so he simply did was every normal person would do in his situation.

He stood her up.

Many more times than he could count, and of course he felt like the shittiest person in the world— shittiest boyfriend in the world—but at least now she can’t possibly be under the impression that he wanted to marry her, which is what he wanted. Or thought he wanted, until Sarah called him up one day after he had stood Y/N up for dinner the night before and told him off. Told Harry just how fucking terrible he made Y/N feel, how unwanted she thought she was, how she felt like they were loosing their relationship, and Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. (Of course Y/N had sobbed to Sarah about it over the phone while she was drunk off the wine she opened 40 minutes after Harry said he would be there, so she really didn’t even remember the conversation).

And later that day Harry had come home, heard her wavering voice asking if they could talk, and decided in his head he would tell her how he felt, how sorry he was, and how he wanted to be with her forever and love her forever if she allowed him. He had a few expectations for their dinner, that Y/N would probably tell him how he’s made her feel, and Harry would apologize, tell her why he did it, explain he thought it was no excuse, then tell her he plans on marrying her (obviously not proposing just yet, but finally bringing up the conversation they had never had even though they were in a serious committed relationship) and they’d go back home, have the most amazing sex ever, and forget about the whole thing.

What Harry didn’t expect was to get a call from Jeff around 5 asking him to come to the studio to fix few vocals, then end up nailing down 2 songs in one night, go to a bar with the band to celebrate, get drunk, then pass out at Mitch and Sarahs flat.

But that’s what happened, according to Mitch, who woke Harry up the very next morning.

“Good morning man, wakey wakey,” Mitch’s teasing tone echoed through Harry’s (what felt like full of vodka) brain as he groaned and squinted his eyes. “Why are you waking me up at this hour in the morning?” Harry asked drearily, sighing and simultaneously regretting last night as a whole because the last thing he wanted to do while hungover was be up before at least 9 AM.

“We’ve gotta go to meet with Jeff about tour in like a hour, H” Mitch stated .

At Mitch’s words Harry sat up on their couch, eyes wide in fear. “Wait mate, I thought tha’ meeting was on Wednesday.”

“It is Wednesday H, god how drunk did we let you get last night…” Mitch said, beginning to recount some of Harry’s antics the night before. Harry however, couldn’t hear a thing with the blood pumping through his ears. If today was Wednesday, that meant yesterday was Tuesday, and he went and got trashed at a bar with his friends Tuesday night when— when he was supposed to be on a date with Y/N, when he was supposed to confess his intentions, when he was supposed to apologize for standing her up over and over, yet instead he went and did it again.

Now this, this was a mistake.

“…H. H. Harry? Are you there?” Mitch’s voice came back into focus and Harry shook his head. “I- fuck, I was supposed to take Y/N out last night.” Harry said, his voice trembling.

‘I’m sure she’ll forgive you, it’s just one night.” Mitch tried to make Harry feel better. He knew Y/N was a very forgiving person, she would get over this in no time.

“No, she won’t. I-I’ve stood her up for the past month and a half, Mitch.”

At these words, Mitch stands straight up making pained eye contact with Sarah in the kitchen who was overhearing most of this conversation with her eyes wide. She had no idea it was this bad. “Month and a half? I thought it was just that one time a few weeks ago, Harry what the hell is wrong with you?” Harry simply shook his head and didn’t reply. He had absolutely no idea how to make it up to her. “I-fuck, I don’t know Mitch!” Harry raised his voice. “I need to see her and apologize, now.” Harry said, standing up and rushing over to the front door and slipping on his shoes.

“This meeting is mandatory Harry, as much as I want you to see her too, she’d probably still asleep, and I don’t think this can be solved in under an hour.” Mitch said calmly, already knowing Harry was close to walking out his door. Harry stayed silent for a moment, weighing the options. Either go apologize to his girlfriend, or prioritize himself over her again.

“We can do it another day, I’m sorry, but I have to go see her, tell Jeff I feel sick.” And he walked out without another word.

。:°ஐ

The morning after Harry stood Y/N up again was brutal.

She stayed up all night, replaying moments with Harry in her head, analyzing if he wanted to be there with her, wondering if maybe he felt like he had to stay with her out of pity. It was torture, and the pain seemed to turn into numbness as time went by, and eventually the sun came up, and she stayed in bed, her motivation lost.

A loud crash and “Fuck!” woke her up, swollen eyes fluttering open to the invasive noise. Y/N furrowed her brows, her mind connecting everything that happened yesterday and unfortunately reminding her of the unbearable pain she went through the night before. A groan escaped her lips as she sat up and flung her legs out of her bed sheets that had been flung off the bed in the middle of the night. She began grumbling to herself as she made her way downstairs, ready to tell Harry off for making so much noise.

Her mouth stopped moving, and instead remained in limbo as her eyes met Harry’s. His mouth opened to speak, but his words were caught in his throat as he saw the state she was in. It was when her mouth pressed into a line that he could begin talking. “Y/N, baby, please I know you don’t wanna see me or talk t’me right now but I’m so fuckin’ sorry, love. So so sorry, it was an accident, I went t’ the studio to fix a few things then got hung up on the songs and by the time we went to celebrate I completely lost track of time, and I was too drunk to drive home so I crashed at Mitch’s.”

Her mouth fell open at his words. Everything was happening too fast. Hearing that he stood her up to drink at a fucking bar to celebrate himself, then coming home and accidentally knocking over a glass in their kitchen (which she put together was the crash earlier after seeing the shards of broken glass on the floor) frustrated her to no end. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him any longer, and Harry had stopped talking after realizing what he just admitted to her. Without another glance, instead of looking at Y/N’s tear stained face, all he saw was her back, walking up the stairs to their room.

“Fuck,” He said to himself before following her up the pink stairs. “Y/N, love wait-please, I’m so sorry, I just need to talk to you, I need to explain myself, please.” He begged as she shut their bedroom door in his face, his voice turning into a desperate whine at the end.

。:°ஐ

It’s been 3 days since then, and she hasn’t spoken to him. He would leave in the mornings, kissing her forehead and mumbling an “I love you” and telling her exactly what time he’d be home, before leaving and coming back on time to find an empty plate in the sink and her lying in their bed, whether it be reading, scrolling on her phone, or typing on her laptop. He would apologize many times, reaching his hand out for hers and she would simply situate herself in their bed and lay down, back turned to him.

Harry just couldn’t take it anymore.

It was when she had finally let him kiss her forehead goodnight that he decided to take his chance. “Y/N.” He spoke softly, with no response or anything to indicate she heard him. “Baby, can we please talk- or I’ll talk and you listen, I just- I really need to say some things.”

She was still faced away from him when he leaned against their headboard and he decided to keep going.

“I- um. I’m sure you know how sorry I am, but I really am- sorry I mean. Not just for tonight but for every other time I’ve stood you up. I’m so sorry for not showing you how much you matter to me, and how much the things you do matter to me.”

It was then that she slowly sat up next to him and looked at him, eyes begging him to continue. He blushed at her intense eye-contact that he had barely gotten over the past few days and took a breath, opting to look at his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“We’ve been together for 2 and almost a half years, which is the longest relationship I’ve been in, and it’s no excuse to treat you this way, but I had just been thinking about how things progress even further than now,” He coughs. “Which is marriage, and when I finally came home, all I wanted to do was ask you to marry me- I don’t- m’not proposing right now, I just- I got really scared because wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone is crazy to me,

I’ve never thought that way about anyone else until you, I didn’t even really want to get married before you, and I started to distance myself before I ended up telling you this, but obviously that blew up in my face.” He chuckled a bit, locking eyes with her unreadable ones for a moment and lifting a hand to run through his hair. “What I’m trying to say, is that I love you, so so much, and I plan on marrying you— obviously if you want to too, of course— and I’m so sorry for trying to make you think that I didn’t care about you anymore or love you any less, because it’s the complete opposite of that.”

His eyes were watery now, as he started down at his interlocked fingers, and his eyes widened when her hand was gently placed over his own. “Harry,” Y/N began. “Look at me, please.”

His head lifted to see her facing him, her brows knitted and a small smile on her face. “I forgive you, okay? I could tell you were kind of scared of commitment when we first started dating, and I wish I could say your reason for standing me up is surprising but it’s not.” They both chuckled a bit at this. “I- I’m still upset at you, I need you to know that, because 2 months of thinking the love of your life is avoiding you doesn’t feel all too great, so you suck for that,” she said, planting a quick kiss to his cheek which quickly turned pink. “But Harry, even if you asked me to marry you a year ago I would have said yes. I love you, so much, and I plan on spending the rest of my life with you as well. I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment, it was… unnecessary and immature. So, thank you for apologizing. I love you.” She confessed again.

“S’okay, I deserved it, and I love you too. Maybe even more. So um, we’re okay?” Harry asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

She nodded with a smile and pulled him into a much needed hug and pulled away only for him to bring her into an even more needed kiss. “If you ever try to pull that shit again, I’m breaking up with you.” She laughed and he tackled her into the sheets hiding his face in her neck.

“Duly noted, love. Duly noted.”

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #Harry Styles #harry styles angst #im pretty proud of this one #if I do say so myself #harry styles fanfiction #its kinda short tho sorry

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chrizbang · 3 years

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Pairing: Bang Chan x female reader, ft. Han Jisung

Genre: smut, a little bit of angst

Warnings: mature content, partying, drinking, kissing, unprotected sex, oral sex, lowkey fuckboy!Chan

Word count: 8.038

Summary: You had to do a project for the last semester in college before your vacation. Not only you had to deal with the stress of doing it right, but you also had to deal with the stupid crush you had on Bang Chan.

"Felix, I'm not going to kiss Chan"

"Everyone, pay attention here, please," your teacher said. Slowly, everyone stopped with the side talk and paid attention to her. "For your last project of the semester, I decided that we are going to learn about different cultures." She got up from her table and went in the direction of the board. "Remember when I asked you guys to send me the names of your groups? Basically, I'm going to draw random countries for each group. I want you guys to do a study aboout the differences of said countries, based on a theme that you are going to choose.”

She started writing on the board.

“The theme must be something creative. If it is not creative, your project is going to lose points, okay?" she said enthusiastically.

She started to draw the countries for each group. Your group was formed by basically you and Felix. Felix became your friend after the first day of class but you felt like he was your friend since forever. "I want this project by the end of the month, so..." she looked at the little calendar on her table. "You guys have three weeks. Any doubts?" Some people raised their hands but you weren't paying attention anymore, you were writing down the countries that you had to work with: Australia, Germany, Spain and, Korea. You had no idea what to do for your project. Your teacher was very clear: it had to be creative. Creativity wasn't your thing. "Okay, guys, class dismissed," your teacher announced. Everyone started to get up and leave but you sat there, trying really hard to think on a theme. "Hey, we have to go," Felix said. "What are we going to do?" "We have plenty of time to think about it, Y/N." Felix grabbed your backpack and started to put your stuff inside of it. "Three weeks is not plenty of time, Felix." "Okay, what's your idea, then?" "I don't know, that's why I'm asking you, dumbass." Felix rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the classroom. "How about we do a project about the foods of each country?" "Hm, that's interesting." You took your backpack from his hands to grab a little notebook to write down the ideas. "But I don't think is creative enough." Felix sat at the bench at the corner of the hall. "What if we did the differences in the skin texture of each country?" Felix looked at you and saw the pout on your face. "Too much?" You simply nodded. You sat down next to him, already tired from all the thinking. "You know what would be funny?" you grinned. "What?" "If we made a project about the way that people from each country kiss and the differences from each one." "Y/N, that's it!" Felix got up, excited. "Felix, I was joking." "No, this is a great idea. It's creative! There are students from different countries in our college, so we can totally do it!" "As far as I know, there's only one german student here. Are you going to kiss him?" You stood in front of him, arms crossed. "You are going to kiss him." Felix looked at you like what he was saying was obvious. "Felix!" "Look, we have four countries. I can kiss two people and you kiss two people. It's not going to be hard." "You know what? I'm going home. I'm going to think about a better theme." "You know you can't," Felix shouted while you left. Felix was right, this idea was the best one. It was creative and bold, but kissing random people was the hard part. Not that you didn't like to kiss, but you were used to kissing people at parties, people that you would kiss while you were drunk and you knew that you would never see them again. Not people from your college where you would have to see them every day. "Hi, Jisung," you said while you opened the door of your apartment. Your roommate was laying down on the couch, playing video games. "Hey," he greeted you. You lifted his legs so you could sit on the couch, putting his legs on your lap. "Are you okay?" he asked, noticing your expression. "Ugh, I have this stupid project to make," you whined, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, letting the frustration take over your body. "Do you wanna talk about it?" "No." Your phone rang, you grabbed it only to see that it was Felix calling you. "Hey, Felix." "What's up Feliiix," Jisung screamed. "Hi Jisung,” he yelled, making you pull the phone away from your ear. “Y/N, can you come to my apartment today?" "Nope. No, I can't." "Why? Do you have something to do?" Felix asked. "I don't want to. You know why." "Y/N, you have to get over the crush you have on Chan one day." "I don't have a crush on him, Felix. He just makes me...uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, in a weird way. I don't know how to explain." "Y/N, he's not even here now. Besides, we have to work on the details for our project," Felix insisted. "Why don't you come to my apartment?" "Because every time I go there we can never get anything done because of Jisung. Please? Please, Y/N." "Fine," you sighed. "I'll be there in twenty minutes." "Are you going to get pretty for Channie?" Felix teased. "Shut the fuck up." You turned off your phone and went to your room. The truth is: you did have a crush on Chan. Chan was handsome, funny, he had a great body and a great personality. He was also a fuckboy. You can't remember the number of times that you saw him with different girls in their apartment, one prettier than the other. Eventually, you stopped going to their apartment because you never knew how to behave like a normal human being around him and, seeing him with pretty girls wasn't helping. You took a quick shower and dressed in simple clothes, you didn't want Felix teasing you. While walking through the campus in the direction of their apartment, you kept trying to calm yourself. It has been a while since you saw Chan, so you were excited, even though you were trying to convince yourself that you weren't. Felix said that he wasn't home, so there was no reason for you to be nervous. You stopped in front of their door and took a deep breath. You knocked and it took a moment before Felix answered. "Hey, Y/N," Felix screamed, giving you a hug. "Don't act like we didn't see each other a few hours ago." You entered their apartment. The structure was the same for all the apartments on the campus, but each one had its own piece of decoration. Surprisingly enough, Felix and Chan's apartment had a great decoration and was super clean. "So... let's go to your room." "Are you sure that you don't want to work in the living room?" Felix asked. "I'm sure," you said, already going in the direction of his room. Felix laughed. He knew you were trying to avoid Chan. You sat on Felix's bed with your notebook in your hands, ready to take notes. "Look," Felix said, sitting in front of you. "I know that you don't want to use kissing as a theme, but..." Felix raised his hand when he saw your expression, trying to explain himself. "It is the perfect theme, Y/N. We are not going to find something as creative and daring as this. And this is important for our grades, we are not doing very well on this subject, remember?" Felix tilted his head. You know he was right. "Fine, you are not going to leave me alone, are you?" "Nope." Felix got up from the bed and grabbed his notebook on his table, to show you some annotations. "So, we have to find people from Australia, Germany, Spain, and Korea. We already know the german student, don't worry, I'll talk to him so you can kiss him." Felix wrote down something in his notebook and continued. "There's a spanish girl in Chan's class, I'm gonna ask him to help me out." The simple mention of Chan's name made you feel butterflies in your stomach. "For korean, I thought about the possibility of..." Felix hesitated and looked at you. "No." "Come on, Y/N." "I am not going to kiss Jisung, Felix." "Fine, I'll look for a korean girl somewhere." "There's probably someone in our college." "The problem is someone australian. Don't get me wrong, I love you and you are gorgeous. But I'm not going to kiss you." "I don't want to kiss you either, Felix." "Felix." You heard Chan calling, startling you. "I'm in my room," Felix yelled. Chan opened the door of Felix's room. You looked at your notebook to pretend that you were occupied. Chan and Felix talked about ordering food for dinner or something. "Y/N," Chan said when he noticed you, making you instantly look in his direction. "Long time no see." He had a stupid cocky smile on his face. His sweet voice made you swallow hard. "H-hi, Chan." Of course, you had to stutter. "You can stay for dinner if you want," Chan offered before leaving the room. "So cute," Felix whispered, looking at your red face. "I have to go," you said, gathering your stuff. "But Chan invited you for dinner, Y/N," Felix teased you. "Bye, Felix." "Okay, let me walk you to the door." Luckily, Chan was occupied in the kitchen so he didn't see you leave. "Text me once you get there, okay?" Felix said. "Okay, bye." You kept thinking about the little interaction with Chan on your way home. He dyed his hair since the last time you saw him. Instead of blonde, it was now black. Both colors suited him so much. He was wearing a black sweatshirt and some jeans, the most basic clothes ever and he looked breathtaking. You hated how you were head over heels for him, you felt like a teenager. It was so silly. Days went by and you had a lot of work from college. Felix already worked on his part and managed to kiss the spanish girl from Chan’s class. Something made you feel like kissing wasn't the only thing he did, but you didn't want to know the details. Some students were planning a party and Chan invited Felix, who invited you. "I don't know, I have so much to do," you whined. "Can I go?" Jisung asked, stuffing some food in his mouth. "Of course," Felix said. "Y/N, that's exactly why you should go." He said that while holding some of the papers that were on the couch while you worked on your homework. "You need to ease your mind from all the stress from school." "He's right," Jisung agreed. "She's so grumpy lately because of college." "Shut up, Jisung,” you whined. "Okay, fine. But only if you help finish this," you told Felix. "Fine." The party was on a tuesday night, Felix would go with Chan so you asked Jisung to take you. "Looking good," Jisung stated, eyeing you up and down as he entered your room. You were putting your earrings on. You decided that since you would have all the work to go to a party, you had to a least look good. So you were wearing a leather skirt with a white long-sleeved blouse that showed some cleavage. "Thanks, Jisung. Are you ready?" "Yeah. Let's go." The party wasn't far away from your dorm so you were able to go walking. It was 9 pm, so leaving Jisung with you made you feel safer. Jisung was the type of person who was outgoing, he talked a lot and made you laugh all the time. Along the way, he talked about college and his classes. He studied music production and he seemed really passionate about it. You thought it was cute how his eyes glowed while he talked about his classes. It was funny because Chan also studied music production, but he was from a different classroom. Some minutes later, you were at the place of the party. You had no idea whose house was that, but you completely forgot about it once you were inside. The first thing you saw was Chan, but he was too occupied to see you. He was kissing a girl. She was gorgeous, with long blonde hair, and a tight red dress that accentuated her curves. You were sure that Chan enjoyed that dress by the way his hands ran over her body, stopping at her ass to grab it. "I'm gonna look for Felix," you whispered to Jisung. You found Felix standing next to a table where people were playing beer pong. "Y/N," he yelled when he saw you. He ran in your direction, giving you a tight hug that made you realize that he was probably, already, a little drunk. "Hi," you said with a sad voice. "What's wrong?" "Nothing. It's not important." "If it's not important, why are you making that face?" He held your face with his hands, looking right into your eyes. "Felix, I don't wanna talk about it, not now." You looked in the direction of the table. "Can I play?" "Sure," Felix shrugged. You played beer pong with Felix and some unknown people and eventually, you started to feel dizzy. "I'm going to use the bathroom," you said, stumbling on some drunk people while you tried to leave. You went to the second floor, looking from door to door when you finally saw the bathroom one. However, when you got closer, you realized that there was someone inside of it. And they weren't alone. You could hear the sound of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans. You widened your eyes, feeling embarrassed by witnessing people having sex. When you turned around to leave, you heard the girl moaning "fuck Chan, harder." You could hear Chan groaning while he fucked her.

You swallowed hard and left. There was another bathroom on the first floor which you found eventually. Once you were inside, you sat on the toilet and cried. You had this stupid crush on Chan for so long and look at you. Crying in the bathroom while he fucked a girl in another bathroom. You stayed there for a while, feeling sorry for yourself until you got fed up. It was time to get over him. You cleaned your tears and got up to go back to the party. You looked around for Felix but couldn't find him anywhere. "Y/N," you looked in the direction of the person calling you and saw Jisung enthusiastically waving at you. He was standing in the middle of the living room where people were dancing. "Hey," you half yelled since the song was loud. "Are enjoying the party?" "Not really." You really wanted to leave, you didn't feel like staying at that party, and you especially didn't feel like dancing. That's when you looked around and saw Chan at the corner of the living room, talking to Felix. You saw that he had his eyes on you. Like he would always do, looking at you like he was checking you out but without it being obvious. You clenched your fists, you were tired of Chan teasing you. You had an idea and you didn't even stop to think about it. You grabbed Jisung's face and kissed him. It was a weird kiss at first, the smell of alcohol exhaling in the air. Jisung's lips were soft but eager, he held onto your waist, getting your body closer to his. He wasted no time before shoving his tongue inside of your mouth, taking you by surprise. You kissed him for a while but you stopped the moment you felt him rubbing his boner on you. You lightly pushed him by his shoulders.

"I have to go," you said, leaving the room. Jisung stayed there, looking at you, without knowing how to react. You decided that you had to leave. You were confused, upset, angry and a little horny, thanks to Jisung. You started to walk in the direction of the gates of the house when you heard somebody calling your name. "Y/N, wait!" You sighed and turned around. The last thing you needed was to talk to Chan. "What do you want?" you roared. "Are you leaving?" "Yes. I'm going home." He looked like he was angry at something, but you simply shrugged. "Let me take you home. It's way too late for you to be walking alone," he said in a serious tone. "I don't need your help, Chan." You turned around to leave when he grabbed your arm. "This was not a suggestion. I'm taking you home," he growled. You pulled your arm from his hands but didn't fight. Chan walked with you to your apartment quietly. Not a word was said until he stopped in front of your dorm. "Thanks," you said, looking at the floor. "So, Jisung, huh?. I didn't expect that." "I'm sorry?" You raised your head, looking at him. "How long have you been dating him?" he asked. He really looked like something was bothering him, clenching his jaw and crossing his arms. You felt like he was fighting with you for doing something wrong. "T-that's none of your business. Goodnight, Chan," you remarked. You went in the direction of your door and stopped. You were so angry at him, you couldn't stop the words from coming out of your mouth. "Where's the girl you were fucking in the bathroom? You should be worried about her." Chan widened his eyes and smiled. You wanted to punch that stupid smile out of his face. "Are you jealous?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. "Fuck off." You unlocked the door and went inside. You lay down on your bed and closed your eyes. It didn't take long for you to sleep since you were exhausted. You couldn't say that you had a good night of sleep though, you woke up with a hangover and headache. Still, you had class first thing in the morning so you had to go. You took a shower and got dressed up when you remembered what happened to Jisung. You were not ready to face the consequences of your actions, so you tried to leave without seeing him. You were sitting in your class, trying to pay attention when Felix arrived. "Hey," he said, sitting by your side. "Hey," you whined. "I have good news. There was a german girl at the party last night, so I did your job for you." "Yay," you said without any enthusiasm. "Aaand, since you kissed Jisung, you have the korean part. There's only Australia missing." "Haven't you kissed any girls when you lived in Australia?" you interrogated him. "I did, but I'm australian. I think it would be better from the perspective of someone who isn't, you know?" You sighed. When you started to pack your stuff to leave after the class was over, you groaned. "What is it, Y/N?" Felix asked. "I have to go home." "And?" "I kissed Jisung, Felix." "Was it that bad?" Felix tilted his head, not understanding your point. "That's not the point. He's my roommate and my friend, that's weird." "Well, unless you are planning to move somewhere else, you'll have to talk to him." You groaned again, throwing your head back. You went home thinking about what exactly you would tell Jisung. You always thought that Jisung was an attractive guy and you would be lying if you said you never took a look at his body when he would walk around shirtless. There was even that one time where he brought a girl home, they tried to stay quiet but you could hear them fucking. That turned you on so much that you had to touch yourself. Still, Jisung was your friend and kissing your friends was not something that you usually did. When you got home, you looked around for Jisung. You heard some noises in his room. You knocked at the door and he stayed silent for a while. "Come in," he said. "Hey," you purred when you opened the door. "I think I need to talk." "Yeah, I think we should." "Sorry for kissing you last night, that was a stupid thing to do," you stumbled on your words, barely giving yourself time to breathe. "Y/N," Jisung raised his hand. "It's okay. You are a good kisser." "Thanks. I guess."

"I have to admit that I couldn't stop thinking about it. I was thinking..." Jisung hesitated for a moment, thinking deeply about what he was going to say.

"Why don't we do it again?" he suggested.

You bit your lips. You had to admit that that's not what you were expecting from him.

You sat at the edge of his bed, getting closer to him.

"Jisung, I... I kissed you because I wanted Chan to notice me, maybe get him jealous." Saying it out loud made you realize how childish and silly that was, you couldn't help but to feel embarrassed.

"Y/N, I don't care. It's not like I'm asking you to marry me," he laughed.

Jisung sat by your side.

"What do you think about being friends with benefits?"

He watched your reaction. You had a confused expression on your face, trying to understand his words.

"When was the last time that you had sex?" he asked.

"I don't know. Eight months ago?"

"See? It's been a while for me, too. Besides, you can even use me to make Chan jealous, if you want."

"Are you listening to yourself, Jisung?"

"Yes. We can still be friends, no feelings involved. Think about it."

Jisung got up from the bed and walked in the direction of the door.

"Ji-jisung."

He turned around to look at you. "Yes?"

"I want it."

Felix, 5:35 pm: Hey

Felix, 5:35 pm: Did you write your dissertation about the korean part?

Y/N, 5:38 pm: I did

Y/N, 5:38 pm: Even though I don't think it's really useful since I was drunk

Felix, 5:40 pm: You should kiss Jisung again then, lol

Y/N, 5:41 pm: Maybe I will ;)

Felix, 5:42 pm: Y/N??? You nasty little b

Felix, 5:43 pm: Send it to me, please.

Y/N, 5:45 pm: Okay.

Y/N, 5:45 pm: Hey, are going to do something tomorrow?

Felix, 5:48 pm: No, why?

Y/N, 5:49 pm: Let's go to the movies. There's that horror movie that we wanted to watch in the theaters.

Felix, 5:51 pm: Sure!

Y/N, 5:52 pm: Can I bring Jisung?

Felix, 5:52 pm: Yes

Felix, 5:54 pm: But don't you dare to make me feel like the third wheel.

Jisung didn't even know that you had plans with him that afternoon. But you wanted to spend time with him, to ensure the "friends" part of your negotiation. After accepting to be friends with benefits, he didn't talk about it anymore. You thought that he would kiss you again or something, but no, he went to the kitchen to make some mac and cheese for dinner and then went to sleep.

"Jisung," you said, knocking on his door. You know that if he was silent he was probably taking a nap.

"What?" he asked, in an annoyed voice.

"Can I come in?"

"Ugh, no, I'm sleeping."

You entered the room anyway. You swallowed hard when you saw that he was laying on his stomach, shirtless. His back was exposed for you to see. It was not the first time that you saw him like that, but it was the first time since you kissed him.

"Get up, we are going to the theater."

"We?" he asked, looking at you.

"Yes, you, me and, Felix."

"Aww," he whined. "I thought it would be a cute date."

Jisung winked at you with a cocky smile on his face.

"Shut up. You have ten minutes to get dressed."

You agreed with Felix to meet him at the movie theater, so you left with Jisung on an Uber.

When you arrived at the movie theater, you could see Felix at the line to buy the tickets, but he wasn't alone.

"Felix?" you asked when you got closer to him.

"Hey!" he said. "I hope you don't mind Chan coming with us. He insisted that he wanted to come. Like really."

"Hi, Y/N," Chan purred, smiling at you. He then looked a Jisung.

"Jisung," he said in a low voice. His face looked serious, it didn't look like he was happy to see Jisung there.

Chan looked back at you. “I hope you don’t mind if Felix and I accompany your date with your little friend with benefits.”

You didn’t have time for a reaction since Felix pulled you to buy your tickets and some popcorn and headed to the movie. The mood was heavy, Jisung walked around with his arm around your neck all the time and you saw Chan looking at you with an upset expression. Was he jealous? You didn't know.

You sat by Jisung's side on the theater and Felix sat by your side, but after talking about something with Chan, they switched places.

Chan's leg touched yours and you felt your heart dancing in your chest. Why couldn't you get over him? You held Jisung's hand, trying to distract yourself. You were not giving Chan what he wanted.

With the corner of your eye, you would see Chan watching you sometimes. But you avoided looking back at him at any cost.

Jisung would whisper some things in your ear during the movie, making you giggle.

Suddenly, you felt Chan moving next to you. He stretched out for a moment, but he left his arm on your chair, next to your shoulders. You swallowed hard and rolled your eyes. Would you be lying if you said you didn't like the sudden attention you were getting from Chan? Yes, you would. But you felt confused and angry. Chan was acting jealous out of nowhere, to the point where you started to feel guilty, while you had to deal with the countless times where you saw him with other girls. Still, you never acted like a jealous teenager around him, so yeah, you were not giving in. The movie ended and all you wanted to do was to leave the theater. Jisung was by your side all the time, walking with you in front of Chan and Felix. "Let's go home, darling," Jisung purred, after giving you a peck on the cheeks. You could tell that he was loving to tease Chan. You said goodbye to Felix, and, reluctantly, to Chan and left with Jisung. When you got home you sat on the couch, still thinking about everything that was happening. Jisung sat by your side, almost sitting on your lap. "Ouch," you whined. "Sorry. What is up with Chan? He looked really angry at me today." "I don't know and I don't care," you shrugged. "Come on, Y/N. I think he has a crush on you and got all mad now that you have a man." "Oh, I have a man?" you looked at Jisung with an amused expression. "Well, we are friends with benefits, remember?" Jisung laid his head on your shoulder while his hand grabbed your thigh. "I almost forgot since you didn't say anything about it anymore." Jisung's thumb drew patterns on your skin while he talked. "Well, I wanted to give you space, you know? To get used to it." "Awn, you are so sweet." "I am, baby." You looked at Jisung, who was also looking at you. Slowly, you got closer to him until your lips touched. Now that you were sober, it wasn't so weird to kiss him. He was very eager, but not in a bad way. He played with your tongue while he guided the kiss, holding your head with his hand. Suddenly, he grabbed your waist, making you sit on his lap. He kept on kissing you, running his hands through your body. You started to grind on his boner, just to tease him a little. Jisung held hard on your waist, pulling you closer to him, so you would grind harder on him. You couldn't hold the little whine that left your lips when you felt his hard dick against your clit. "Take this off," he whispered, helping you to take off your t-shirt. He didn't waste time, grabbing your boobs and pulling your bra down. he licked one of your nipples while he played with the other. You moaned loud, rocking your hips on his cock. Jisung started to kiss your neck, working to take his belt off. He opened his pants and freed his dick. "Are you on the pill?" he asked. "Yes." Your skirt was already raised, exposing your wet panties. He pulled your panties to the side and held your waist, helping you out so you could slide on his dick. You whined when you felt him stretching you out. You started to ride his dick at a fast pace, not giving your pussy time to adjust. "Fuck, Y/N," Jisung moaned. "I'm not gonna last long if you keep it like that." "Play with my clit, I'm close," you whined. He rubbed his thumb against your clit while you sat on his dick. After a little while, you came, kissing him on the lips. Quickly, you got off his lap and got on your knees. You grabbed his dick and started pumping and sucking it. Jisung came, moaning loud, filling your mouth up with his hot cum. You swallowed it and looked at him with an innocent face. "That's fucking hot," he whined. "Y/N, we need to finish our project," Felix said. You were sitting in the cafeteria. You had only one week before you had to deliver the project and Felix was starting to panic. "I know, I'm still looking for a guy who is from Australia that's not you." "You know a guy that's Australian and it's not me." "Felix, I'm not going to kiss Chan," you grumped. "Why not?" You turned around to see Chan standing behind you, with that cocky smile that he always had on his face. He sat on the table by your side. "Felix told me about your project. Why are not going to kiss me? Is your little boyfriend going to stay mad?" he teased. "You know that Jisung it's not my boyfrie-," you stopped once you noticed that you were explaining yourself. You cleaned your throat. "I don't owe you any explanation, Chan. And Felix, you really need to stop exposing my life to him."

Felix frowned.

"Come on, Y/N. You would rather fail than to kiss me?" he asked, tilting his head and looking at you, using a soft voice. You hated how he made you feel butterflies in your stomach by the way he looked at you. You hated how he looked so good with that stupid sweatshirt and his messy hair, making you think that he was probably late for college today. Probably because he was fucking some hot girl the night before. "I'm n-not gonna fail. I'll kiss Felix if I have to." You got up and left, going home. Felix called your name but you kept walking. In your college, there were a lot of foreign students, but not many australians, from what you knew. You knew that were no way that Felix would kiss you, so you had to do something. You were looking on Tinder, trying to find what you needed when Felix messaged you asking for you to go to his house. He said that you needed to at least finish to write the project, even if Australia was missing. You went to his apartment, ready to be angry at Chan, but you soon learned that he wasn't there. You and Felix did what you had to do and by the end of it, you were both mentally exhausted. "How come just writing something can be so tiring?" Felix asked, throwing himself on the couch. "Probably because we are both very stupid," you stated. "That must be it. I'm kind of hungry but we don't have anything to eat. I think I’m going to the supermarket to buy us something, okay?" "Okay. I'm gonna review our work while you are there." You were sitting there, doing your job for about ten minutes when you heard the door opening. "Already?" you asked. "Y/N?" "Oh, Chan. I thought it was Felix." you sighed. "Sorry to disappoint." Chan went to his room and stayed there for a while. You found it strange that he didn't come to tease you. "Y/N, can you come to my room for a moment?" "I'm busy." You felt your palms sweating. Was he really inviting you to stay alone, in his room, with him? "Please? It's going to be really quick, I need to show you something."

You wanted to say no, you really did. But you went to his room anyway. Chan closed the door when you were inside and told you to sit on the chair next to the table. He had his notebook turned on. "Put this on," he said, handing you his earphones. Chan played a song. It had a smooth melody, with soft lyrics. The person singing had a sweet voice. The lyrics talked about feelings and liking someone. It was short, about a minute and a half. "Do you like it?" Chan asked, with expectation shining on his eyes. "Yes, it's beautiful." He leaned on the edge of the table next to you. "Well, I wrote it and produced it. I also recorded it," he said with a smile on his face, but this time it wasn't a cocky one, he looked satisfied. "Oh, are you the one singing?" "Yes." "I didn't know you could sing." Chan played with his fingers and looked down. You have never seen him like that before. He looked hesitant, almost nervous. "Y/N, I-" "Hello?" Felix opened Chan's door. "Y/N, I was looking for you. We need to finish our project." Chan didn't say anything, he just left the room. "I hope I'm not interrupting something," Felix added. You shrugged and went to the living room with him. You finished all you needed about your project and went home. You looked for Jisung, until you found him in his room. "Can I come in?" you timidly asked when you opened the door. "Of course." You ran to his bed, getting under the covers with him. He was sitting down with his back against the headboard, he looked like he was studying. "I don't want to bother you, Jisung." "That's fine. What's up?" he directed his attention to you. "I'm so confused." "About what?" "About Chan." Jisung laughed. "Tell me about it." "Today he showed a song that he wrote. It was about love and stuff. And he has been acting all jealous. I don't know how to feel about it." "You really like him, don't you?" You sighed. "Jisung, I don't think we should be friends with benefits anymore." "It's okay, Y/N. Can we still be friends?" "Of course!" you hugged him, resting your head against his chest. "I'm gonna miss the sex though," he teased. "Jisung!" "Just kidding, baby." Y/N, 9:45 pm: Felix Y/N, 9:45 pm: We have one day before our project is due Y/N, 9:45 pm: I'm gonna ask you something Felix, 9:58 pm: Y/N I DON'T WANT TO KISS YOU Y/N, 9:59 pm: It's not that, dumbass Y/N, 9:59 pm: I need you to ask Chan if he will kiss me Y/N, 10:00 pm: But I want to make it clear that this is strictly professional Felix, 10:02 pm: Okay, I'm gonna talk to him You had no other choice anymore. You couldn't afford to have a bad grade so yeah, you were going to kiss Bang Chan. Felix said that you would have to go to their apartment. You already started to feel nervous. When you arrived, Chan opened the door for you. "Where's Felix?"" you asked. You were holding tight on the sleeve of your blouse. You walked past Chan while you entered their apartment and you felt your legs going weak when you smelled his cologne. He smelled so good. "He said that he wanted to give us privacy," he answered. You frowned, that was typical of him. "Look, I'm only doing this because I need to, okay? We don't have much time anymore and we really need to finish this project." Chan got closer to you, looking into your eyes. You wanted to run away. "Okay," he said. You stayed there looking for each other. You didn't know what to do. "A-are you going to kiss me?" you asked. Chan smirked. "I'm sorry, I'm a little nervous," he admitted. "You? Nervous?" "Yeah." "Chan, please. I've seen you kissing a bunch of girls a lot of times and you've never looked like you were nervous." "Yeah, but they were not you." Chan's words danced in your ears. "That's not funny." "What?" he asked. "It's not fun to play with someone's feeling like that." "I'm not playing with your feelings, Y/N. I'm serious." Chan touched your chin, making you feel shivers down your spine. One little touch and he had you on the palm of his hand. "I've known for a long time that you had a crush on me." You felt your cheeks burning. "I've always thought that you were amazing. Gorgeous, funny, smart. I just thought I wasn't good enough for you. But when I saw you kissing Jisung... I don't know. I felt so bad. I think I was used to having you around." Chan's hand that was on your chin ran to your cheek, holding the side of your face. "C-chan," you whispered. Chan shortened the distance between your bodies and kissed you. By the moment where his lips touched yours, you knew for sure that you would get addicted to it. His plump lips were soft and warm, welcoming yours like a tight hug. His other hand grabbed your waist, getting you closer to him. It was so soft and sweet, not something that you would expect from him. You held onto his neck, touching him to make sure you weren't dreaming. You wanted more. You slid your tongue in his mouth, deepening the kiss. Your hand ran through his chest until it reached the end of his shirt. You put your hand under his shirt, feeling his abs. "Y/N," Chan said. "Please," you whispered against his lips. You weren't thinking straight anymore. Chan's lips started to go down until they reached your neck. He sucked on it, making you whimper. "Are you sure about it? We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he asked, looking right into your eyes. "I want to." Chan held your hand and took you to his room. He told you to lay on his bed. You never thought that this would happen one day. He laid down next to you, facing you. "We don't have to do anything, Y/N." He smiled, the stupid dimples making his face look cuter than ever. "We can just talk, maybe kiss and-" "Chan. I want you to fuck me." You were begging. You were begging for that cock like a little bitch and you were not embarrassed. Chan widened his eyes and swallowed hard. "Okay, okay," he giggled. He got on his knees and took his shirt off. You have never seen him shirtless and you were pretty much pleased by what you saw. You wanted to kiss every inch of his pale skin. Chan got on top of you. He kissed you, exploring your lips. You were wearing a dress that was quickly on the floor of his room. "Fuck," Chan groaned when he saw you only in lingerie. You saw the boner on his pants and licked your lips. You pushed him on the bed and got on top of him. You helped him so he could take off his pants and underwear. His dick was marvelous. Above average, thick, pink tip and veiny. You didn't waste time, you grabbed it and started to lick the head. Chan moaned, closing his eyes. You twirled your tongue around it while you pumped it with your hand. You sucked hard on the tip and Chan moaned again. You tried to go down on it as much as could, which wasn't much since deepthroating wasn't your specialty, but you guessed that Chan was enjoying it by the sounds he was making. Chan grabbed your head and stopped you. "Lay down, baby girl," he demanded. He opened the drawer of the nightstand next to his bed and grabbed a condom but he didn't put it on yet. Instead, he took off your lingerie and got between your legs. He slowly kissed your belly, going down your body. He bit the inside of your thighs, leaving marks behind. He finally went where you wanted him to. He licked your pussy lips, making you whine. He teased you, going from penetrating you with his tongue to licking your clit. You were moaning and whimpering, feeling your orgasm approaching. "Chan, please," you moaned. He started to finger you while he licked your clit. It was too much for you and you came on his mouth. Chan kept licking you until you couldn't take it anymore because of the overstimulation. He took the condom, slid it on his dick and, pumped it a few times. He kissed you, making you taste your own juices. He finally started to slide himself into you, slowly. You whined, feeling him stretching your pussy. "Fuck, baby. So fucking good," he whimpered. When he was fully inside, he gave you a deep kiss. He kissed you for a while, giving you time to get used to him inside of you. "C-chan," you moaned. He started to move, pounding into you at a slow and deep pace. You could feel every inch of him inside of you and you loved it. Chan's moaning was driving you crazy. "So good, baby," he said in your ear. His low voice went straight to your folds, getting you wetter. He kept it slow and intimate, rubbing his pelvis against your clit. "Chan, I'm g-gonna cum." "Cum for me, baby girl." You came again, feeling your legs shaking. Chan kept fucking you until he felt his high approaching. "Ah, fuck, baby," he whined when he came, thrusting deep inside of you. Chan lay down by your side. He took the condom off and threw it in the trash bin next to his bed.

He hugged you, making you lay on his chest. You stayed quiet, listening to his heartbeat, no words were needed. Chan played with your hair, his warm arms making you feel safe. Suddenly, your stomach growled. "Somebody's hungry," Chan teased. He started to move so he could get up. "No!" you whined. "I'm gonna get something for you to eat, baby," he giggled. You let go of him and Chan got up from the bed. He put on his underwear and went to the kitchen. You decided to put your clothes on. Some minutes later Chan came back. He widened his eyes when he saw you with your dress back on. "Are you leaving?" he asked, worried. "No, I just wanted to put it back on. Unless you want me to leave." "Of course not!" Chan sat by your side on the bed, he brought a plate with a sandwich and a cup of orange juice. "Here," he handed it to you. You ate while Chan talked about the songs he was producing. It was interesting to hear even though you had no understanding about the subject. "It's getting late. I'm gonna get dressed so I can take you home, okay?" he said. "You don't have to, Chan." "But I want to." Chan walked you to your apartment. He stayed with you in front of your dorm for a while, kissing and hugging you like he didn't want to let you go. Reluctantly, he went back home. When you went inside, you were surprised to see Felix sitting on the couch with Jisung, playing video games. "Wow, finally," he said. "That was a long kiss," Jisung teased. He didn't sound bitter, it really looked like he was being funny, which made you feel relieved. You sat between them, laying your head on Felix's shoulder. "I had sex with him." "Too much information," Jisung said. They laughed. "It's not funny, guys." "What's wrong, Y/N?" Felix asked. "Isn't that good? You've had a crush on him since forever." "Yeah, but what if I gave him what he wanted?" You got up from the couch, frustrated. "He had sex with me, so he will probably run for the next girl to fuck." "Y/N, I'm pretty sure he's head over hills for you," Jisung said. "I'm going to my room." Later that night you finished your project with Felix. It was due soon, so you were relieved but disappointed in yourself. You let yourself go so easily. You didn't want to feel like that, but you couldn't help it. You were feeling insecure. It wasn't just sex to you, you really felt a connection with Chan. But did he feel the same? What if he just acted as he liked you so he could fuck you? Claim you as his so he could show dominance against Jisung? You didn't know. The day to deliver the project finally arrived. You were relieved that it was finally done and the semester was almost over too. Soon you would be on vacation from college. When you were leaving the classroom, you saw Chan waiting for you outside. "Hey," he said when you got closer. "Hi." He hugged and kissed your cheek. "Wow, right in front of me, disgusting," Felix said. "Can I have your phone number?" Chan asked. "I thought of asking Felix, but I wanted to ask you in person. I also wanted to see you." "Yeah. Of course." "Hey, guys. I love both of you, but you are not going to make me the third wheel," Felix said, standing between you and Chan and intertwining his arms with yours and with Chan's. It was the last day of class. You and Felix got a 9 out of 10 on your project. Felix thought it deserved more but you were just happy that you did well. Your teacher said that she was impressed by the theme you chose. She loved how bold it was and it was exactly the type of stuff that she wanted. You laughed about the way Felix got excited because she complimented your project.

You were sitting in the cafeteria with Jisung, Felix and, Chan. At first, the idea of Chan and Jisung together made you uncomfortable, but they seemed to get along, so you were satisfied. Jisung also thought it would be better if he moved in with Felix so Chan could live in the dorm with you, which Chan promptly accepted. You went home with Chan, talking about your plans for your vacation and how you could spend time together. You ate and watched some TV, but you were really tired. Chan laid down on the couch and you laid on top of him, resting your face on his chest. You loved to stay with him like this, feeling the warmth of his body. You just stayed there with your eyes closed and feeling his perfume. Chan's phone rang and quickly answered, he didn't know that you were awake and he didn't want it to bother you. You heard him talking to some guy, he was inviting Chan to a party. "Thanks for inviting me, mate, but I'll have to decline," he said, almost whispering. "I'm with my girlfriend and I want to spend the day with her." You smiled. Chan was what you always wanted and you finally had it, and he also had you.

A/N: This is a long ass fanfic, I tried to proofread it but it might still have some grammatical errors. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

785 notes · View notes

loth-wolffe · 3 years

Note

YOU KNOW I HAD TO COME IN WITH COMMANDER FOX,,,, THE LAMP PROMPT PLEASE (5th) <3

- your murder husband

anything for my murder husband<3

The lamp prompt

Pairing: OUR BELOVED COMMANDER FOX x reader.

Word count: 1,1k (sorry it's just,,, i love him your honor) not proofread we die like men.

Warnings: makin out with the Commander 👀. i think i wrote the word shiet once (1) but i don't remember if I deleted it or what. there's also the possibility that a certain someone is going to steal something. implied sexy times at the end but nothin wild.

a/n: i didn't kill him anna don't worry i love him too much. hope you like this hubby<3

It was one of those days, where you felt the urge to do this particular something, an itchiness in your mind you needed to scratch, but this wasn't something you had in mind when you first wake up.

Fox was standing in front of you, a few inches away because there just wasn't enough room in th supply closet you had dragged him into less than two minutes ago.

"I need to tell you something," you say, hands starting to sweat with the thought of oh shit, you're actually doing it.

He doesn't move, and you hate that damn bucket he never seems to take off. The amount of times you had seen him without it in the Senate building were few, maybe two times, and only because he needed some caf in his system.

"Could you–" you stare at the black visor, and you shiver at how intimidating he looks, he tilts his head just a little, and it's unbelievable how even with a covered face and an undying silence, he can say so much. "Could you take that off, please?" you gesture the helmet with you hand, and you're surprised how quickly he follows.

It usually takes you more convincing.

But maybe it's your pleading eyes, or your nervous tone, maybe it's how you have pulled at your lobe six times now in the past minute.

You're met by two brown eyes, gentle, kind, with little expression lines on each side, his curls wiggle as they cascade down his forehead, they look messy, uncharacteristically tousled, he must've forgotten to gel his hair, the helmet not doing much to keep them in place.

It's worse, now that you can see his expression, because now, when you say the words out loud, you'll see the rejection in his face first.

"Uh," you smile awkwardly, "could you put it back on? It's making me anxious."

He says your name, a warning without a threat behind it, he's rushing you, in a way, but you understand, he doesn't have much time to spare, and yet he's making some for you.

"Right," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. "I..." you start, sucking a breath as you say it and letting it get caught on your throat as your eyes find his.

Expectant, awaiting. He looks beautiful, with his gray hairs starting to grow on the sides, and that wild single curl on his forehead that reminds you of a superhero from a movie you once saw, and he stands there, having no idea of all the things he does to you.

Your name rolls off his tongue again, and you swear you could hear it forever.

"Sorry," you chuckle, cheeks warming with embarrassment because only you, and only now, could forget what you were about to say with just taking a little glance of him.

In your defense, he is the prettiest man you had ever laid your eyes on.

"I don't... I don't really know how to say this, but–"

"Is this about the lamp I broke yesterday?"

You blink.

"What? No, it's– wait that was you?" He smiles sheepishly, and your heart jumps in your chest at how cute he looks.

He should be in prison, you think, for making you feel like this.

"I was going to replace it."

"You..." and you could've said so many things, you don't have to, you're okay, there's no need, you're the love of my life please marry me, but you don't, instead, you go, "don't even have credits."

He scoffs.

"The chancellor is renovating his office."

"You were going to steal, to the Chancellor, your boss, a lamp?"

"It's not stealing if he's going to throw it away." His tone is as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and you can't help but laugh. He's too pure sometimes, and your heart aches for him because he deserves so much better.

His commlink blinks with a new call and dread fills you, you haven't told him yet, he can't go.

When he's about to answer, you spill it, like some kind of word vomiting, quick and unstoppable.

"I love you."

Fox stops mid movement, index finger so close to the comm's button, eyes flying to find yours in case he hadn't heard right.

"What?"

"I uhm, I love you."

And before you know it, his lips are on yours, a sound that it's something between a moan and a whimper scapes from his throat, and it's everything you both hoped for, his lips are soft, slightly chapped, but they feel like heaven.

He explores your mouth with what feels like the time of the world, taking his time to savour every single movement, drunk on your touch.

A little groan leaves him when your fingers tug the small curls at the nape, and you wish to stay like this forever.

"I love you too," he mumbles into your mouth between kisses, "always have," his hand curls into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer, "always will."

It's not long before the comms crack to life, an awkward Commander, the Chancellor requested to see you, is heard from the other line and you suppose is a shiny.

He pulls away for enough time to reply a quick, sharp "copy that" before reconnecting your lips together, pushing you against the door.

And you could've thought about how different it's his voice when he speaks to anyone that isn't you, so authoritative, unyielding, and so tender with you, so willing, but it's the weight of his body against yours and the faint smell of his cologne that makes your head dizzy and you can't think straight.

You look at each other, and he pecks your lips, you think it's his goodbye, but it isn't.

"One more."

And he does, taking his time to get familiar with your touch, with how your lips feel, how they taste. It's intoxicating.

"Okay," but he can't get enough of you, not when you're so close, when he just got you. His lips find yours again. "I have to go." It's more for him than for you, his words floating in the air as they are left ignored when he dives in for another kiss.

"Fox," you murmur, a little, lovesick smile threatening to spill between his kisses, "you'll be late."

"I'll come over to your place later" He says, but it sounds more like a question, between sloppy kisses traveling from your lips to your neck and back, a breathy yes leaving your mouth as he finds that sweet spot in the skin of your throat. "Good," he says, lips brushing yours and it's embarrassing how addicted he already is to your kisses, to your touch, "can't wait to taste you properly."

taglist: @foodandbooksplease @dottiechan @ladykatakuri @tacticalsparkles @lightning-wolffe @hellothere-generalangsty @beskarprincessjenny @badbatch-simp24 @milppa @obi-bae-kenobi @rowansparrow @queencousland101 @dagobahbound @huntersbandana @kavecika @paige6768 @baroclinicinstability @murdertoothpick @ahsoka1 @kybacrystal @smoldjarin @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @amaryllis23

#dont look at the title i know its ugly #i just couldn't think of anything okay #I'll change it when I have a better one #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #fox x reader #clone trooper x reader #ari writes

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter two rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Masterlist and Series Masterlist

Moving and finding an apartment can be an incredibly long and stressful process. Unless you’re you, and life likes to throw a lot of curve balls at you for the utter hell of it.

Your dad dropped dead three weeks after you told Andy you were moving to New York. Coincidentally, right in the middle of you trying to find a place to live. He drank himself to death. Figures. You doubted you’d ever had a conversation with him that he was sober enough to remember. His untimely demise was unfortunate for him, because he died or whatever, but very fortunate for you. As his only child, you got his apartment in Queens and all his smelly hoodies.

You said your goodbyes to Andy and Dani after a night out in the streets of San Francisco. You had originally moved there after high school to start your show, The L/n Report. San Francisco was known for its crimes against the homeless population and you wanted to start with a story on that. You ended up interviewing Andy at the police station while investigating a missing person, and dated him for two years. Now, you were spending your last few hours in San Francisco with the very boy you once loved and the very girl he now did.

“Are you all packed?” Dani asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Pretty much. I gotta put my toothbrush and hairbrush in my suitcase in the morning. Other than that, I’m good to go.” You answered her. She smiled fondly at you as she linked her arm through yours.

“Hey, I’m really gonna miss you. More than that guy over there.” You whispered, nodding towards Andy, who had his head buried in his phone. Dani laughed and nodded in agreement as you continued to walk.

“I’m going to miss you too. You’re my best friend here.” She sighed sadly.

“I’m glad we’re friends. Most women in our position would hate each other.” You thought out loud.

“Uh uh. You’re thinking of women in films. It’s 2021, baby. Women support women. You and I are two talented, smart, beautiful women who would never be caught fighting over some boy. Especially not one who can’t take his eyes off his phone for two seconds.” Dani said loudly and smacked Andy’s arm. You laughed at the domestic moment but couldn’t help feeling a pain in your heart knowing he used to be that way with you.

“What, sorry?” Andy looked up. You and Dani looked at him before looking at each other and laughing.

“What’s funny?” He asked, growing annoyed.

“We’re laughing at you babe. Put your phone away. It’s Y/N’s last night here.” Dani scolded playfully. Andy sighed and reluctantly put his phone in his pocket.

“Right, sorry. And it’s not her last night here. She’s coming back. You are coming back, right?” He asked you. You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure.

“Of course I’ll be back.” You shrugged. “I just want to experience something new for a while. I’ve done a million pieces on homelessness and poverty. I want to see what fresh stories New York has to offer.”

“You’re quoting the Daily Bugle, aren’t you?” Dani teased you.

“That is verbatim what they said to me.” You admitted with a laugh. “But hey, it worked. As of tomorrow, I’m the Daily Bugle’s newest investigative reporter.”

“Who are you reporting on anyway?” Andy showed a rare interest in your work.

“Some guy named Cletus Kasady.” You answered. “He’s some hot shot serial killer down in Queens. No one knows how he’s hiding his victims bodies. Apparently none have ever been close to being found.”

“And they want you to write the story on him?” Andy raised an eyebrow, always with the condescending tone.

“Well they heard about the whole Carlton Drake situation and decided I hadn’t been through enough trauma in my career.” You replied, earning a laugh from Dani but not Andy. You and Andy had already broken up by the time Carlton Drake contracted a symbiote and tried to kill you and Venom. You stopped him before he could hurt anyone and wrote a career defining article on his lethal human experiments. You managed to leave out all information regarding symbiotes from the article, so your secret was still safe. You were a fairly well known reporter since the incident and your next job was waiting for you in New York.

In the morning, You and Venom got on a plane and made your way to New York. Being on a plane with Venom turned out to be the equivalent to traveling with a toddler. You tried to sleep, but every two seconds you had to stop Venom from getting into trouble. She kept trying to open the window, even after you explained to her that everyone on the plane would die horrible death if the window were to open.

“Stop that.” You whispered when you noticed a black tendril creeping towards the window. The lady in the seat next to you shot me a look of confusion. You gave her a fake smile and turned back to the window, doing your best to conceal the small black tendril that was coming out of your body and fidgeting with the airplane window.

“We want it open.” Venom replied telepathically.

“Do you also want us to blow out of the plane and into space?” You said through my teeth.

“We didn’t anticipate that but it’d be appreciated.” Venom answered, making you groan. The rest of the plane ride followed in similar fashion.

Seven hours later, you arrived at the apartment building. You had never been to your dads apartment, you didn’t even know he had one. You wondered what happened to your childhood home as you looked around the place. The apartment wasn’t too small but not too big either. The rent was practically nothing compared to how expensive San Francisco was, and The Daily Bugle offered to cover your expenses until the story was done. You figured after some redecorating and moving in, it would make a fine new home.

The first seven days in the apartment went by smoothly. You unpacked, with little to no help from Venom, and set up the furniture. On the eight day, you sat on the couch, aimlessly flipping through channels in the TV when you had a thought.

“Oh shit.” You said out loud.

“What?” Venom, who was curly nestled around your neck like a neck pillow, asked.

“I forgot mail exists.” You frowned. “We better go check the mailbox before it overflows.”

You and Venom grudgingly walked to the mailboxes and back again. No one was around, so she manifested herself and rested on your shoulder as I looked through the mail.

“Oops. I grabbed someone else’s mail too.” You clicked your tongue when you read a strangers name off the envelope. “I gotta find them.”

“Let’s go.” Venom said and pulled you towards the front door.

“Sorry, babe. This is a me thing, not a we thing. You know I love you but I don’t want to scare our neighbors. Not yet anyway.” You reasoned. Venom grumbled and went back inside your body.

You checked the address of the envelope and discovered that it belonged to the apartment directly across from you.

You knocked on the door and patiently waited for someone to open it as you mindlessly cracked your knuckles. Just as you were about to walk away, the door opened.

“Hi, are you May Parker?” You asked right away. You looked up from the envelope and your face instantly flushed. The person staring back at you definitely wasn’t May Parker. It was a boy around your age, maybe a little younger. He had soft brown eyes and wavy brown hair. It was gelled back loosely and you could see the outline of soft curls. To your surprise, he was just as flushed as you were. You stared at each other for a moment, no one wanting to be the first to blink.

“Yea. I’m May Parker.” The boy said finally. He shut his eyes in embarrassment and shook his head.

“I mean, no I’m not. But that’s my Aunt. May is my Aunt but I’m not May. That’s my Aunt May. I’m her nephew…obviously. Aunt May is my Aunt May. I…what?” He stumbled over his words and somehow turned even redder. His blush reached all the way down his neck, to his blue jumper that read “Midtown Tech” in yellow letters. You recognized the name of one of the most prestigious high schools in New York, already impressed with your new neighbor.

“Well hello, not May Parker. I’m also not May Parker. But I seemed to forget that when I grabbed your mail this morning. Sorry about that.” You said sheepishly as you handed his mail to him. The boy rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at it and attempted to redeem himself.

“It’s not problem. She and I always forget to check the mail so you actually helped us, um, whoever you are.” He smiled weakly. His voice was cute. He had that Queens accent that the people of San Francisco lacked, for obvious reasons.

“Oh, right.” You laughed in embarrassment. “I’m Y/N L/N. I just moved here from San Francisco. I live across the hall.”

You pointed to the door behind you as if he didn’t know what “across the hall” meant. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were never this awkward.

His eyes lit up a bit once you told him where you lived.

“Really? I thought that smelly guy lived there.” The boy said and you stifled a laugh.

“That smelly guy was my father. He died a little while ago so I live there now.” You told him, malign the boys eyes widen. They were so brown. Like little pools of honey. Or little pools of the Hudson River. You had seen a million pairs of brown eyes before, but none like his. They were quite distracting to be honest.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I had. I had no idea-“ he began to frantically apologize but you cut him off.

“Don’t worry about it. We never got along. And you’re right, that man stank.” You chuckled. It was the first thing you said that felt like your old self. You hadn’t really talked to anyone since moving to New York, with the exception of Venom and the occasional phone call from Andy or Dani. You liked talking to this boy, though you still had no idea who he was.

“Oh thank God. I thought I screwed this up before it even went anywhere.” He immediately turned red when he heard his own words. You saw the regret in his eyes and decided to throw him a bone.

“Well it certainly can’t go anywhere until you tell me your name.” You flirted. Again, he relaxed. You felt a surge of confidence knowing he wanted this to go well.

“Parker. I’m Parker Peter. I mean, Peter Parker.” He fumbled over his words again, making you smile fondly.

“We like him. He’s cute.” Venom said telepathically. You looked down at my shoes and blushed, knowing you liked him too.

“And he looks delicious.” She added, ruining the moment.

“It’s nice to meet you Peter Parker.” You gave him your best smile. “I’m glad there’s someone my age around here. Everyone I’ve met so far is either an old bitty or a creepy uncle type.” You regretted it as soon as it left your mouth. You didn’t know what his sense of humor was like and he might not find you the slightest but funny. Andy always told you you were bad at telling jokes, and you feared he might be right.

Lucky for you, Peter burst out laughing.

“Ah. I’ve seen you’ve met Henry.” Peter pointed a finger down the hall. “Yeah, I’d stay away from him. He asked me if he could have pictures of my feet once. He said he’d “pay me handsomely” for it too.”

“Damn. So he beat me to asking you.” You pretended to be upset, which made Peter laugh again. The sound of his laugh made your heart pick up speed. You weren’t used to feeling like this. Boys rarely impressed you, Andy was just lucky you liked a man in uniform.

“Yeah. You better stay away from him.” Peter advised.

“It might be hard.” You clicked your tongue. “Our mailboxes are pretty close. I’ll make a mental note to never check my mail while wearing flip flops, though.”

Peter smiled at your joke. He had the kind of smile that you would make the person laugh just to see it again. It was brilliant.

“Well my mailbox should be directly above yours. So don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He grinned, and you grinned back.

“My hero.” You gushed as you put your hands over your heart. The tips of his ears went pink, like he was shocked that you said that.

“I’m no hero.” He sounded almost panicked, like you touched a nerve or something.

“We’re hungry. We need to eat.” Venom interrupted abruptly, causing you to jump. Since Peter couldn’t hear her, he looked at you strangely, not knowing the cause of your sudden jolt.

“Sorry, I uh, I thought I saw a spider.” You lied.

“If there was a spider, we’d eat it. We need food. Now.” Venom demanded.

Peter looked up at his doorframe for the imaginary spider.

“Yeah, New York is full of them.” Peter said skeptically. “Not that full, though. And some spiders are nice. One might even call them friendly.”

“Right.” You laughed at his strange wording, unaware that you were both keeping a secret.

“Would…” Peter began but trailed off, seemingly mulling something over in his head. “Would you like to eat dinner with my Aunt and I? I remember when we first moved in, it took us a while to get into the swing of things and make dinner every night. If you like, you could join us. And, you know, we could get to know each other.” He offered. It all came out in one breath. You could tell he was nervous and that only drew you in more.

“I’d love to Peter.” You said, and he smiled in relief.

“Great.” He gave an awkward thumbs up. “We usually eat around six so maybe come around then? She’ll be so happy to meet you. She loves cooking and she always tries to get me to learn but I once burnt cereal and I still don’t know how.” Peter began to ramble. He cut himself off and shook his head again. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

Then, you did something stupid. You put your hand on his arm like the dumb bitch you were. You barely knew this guy. Who the hell were you to touch him? He must’ve been thinking the same thing, since he instantly froze under your touch and stared at your hand on his arm.

“Don’t apologize. I can’t cook either. Unless you count making tater tots as cooking. Then I’m Gordon Ramsey.” You assured him, feeling him relax under your touch.

“You’re just gonna mention tater tots without warning us first? Our mouth is watering. Can we eat Peter?” Venom asked, making your eyes widen.

If it was socially acceptable to scream at your symbiote in public, you would’ve yelled “NO, WE CANNOT EAT PETER” from the top of your lungs. But since you didn’t want to scare Peter and the rest of the neighbors away, you merely smiled and made another mental note to smack the shit out of Venom later.

“I love that man. “Where is the lamb sauce?” Peter mimicked in a bad British accent. He had no right being as charming as he was.

“No no no.” You shook your head. “His best line is “I’ll get you more pumpkin and I’ll ram it right up your ass. Would you like it whole or diced?”. He’s said some pretty wild things but that one makes me cry.”

Peters laugh rang through the halls. To be the cause of that laugh was a feeling like no other. You stood there for a while, just looking at each other. His eyes grazed down your body, but not in a crude way. You berated yourself for not dressing better when going to meet the neighbors, clad in nothing but a grey hoodie and some leggings. Peter looked cute, but you had a feeling he always did. His jumper was pretty baggy and you could see a collared shirt poking out the top. He was dressed almost professionally and you found it incredibly endearing.

You wanted to know more about him. You wanted to know his secrets and his hobbies and what makes him itch. You wanted to see if he dresses this way on weekends too or what his summer clothes looked like. Your gawking was interrupted by Peters phone ringing. He broke out of his trance and answered it quickly.

“Hi, Mr. S. No I’m not busy. I mean, I’m super busy but I can totally make time for you. Yea, Happy talked to me. Okay. Okay. Where? Okay. See you in a bit.” Peter hung up and looked at you apologetically.

“That was my job. I have to run but I’ll be back in time for our dinner. I live at…you know where I live. I’ll see you then. Don’t be late.” Peter called as he ran down the hallway, towards the elevator.

“I won’t. See you later.” You called back.

You went back to your apartment and like a kid, broke out into a happy dance.

“Venom!! Did you see how cute he was?” You gushed. “And how funny he is? I have to get ready for tonight.”

Venom manifested and swirled around my arm.

“Someone has a crush.” Venom smirked. Well, as much of a smirk as she could muster with that huge mouth of hers.

“I don’t have a crush. I just think he’s cute okay?” You replied coyly. “Cute. And funny and sweet and charming and amazing. But that’s it.”

“We can feel your heart beat.” Venom reminded you. “It was going ten miles an hour. What would Andy say?”

You had been rummaging through your closet and stopped in your tracks. With Peters new inhabitance in your mind, you had forgotten all about Andy. You moved to New York to avoid his wedding and his moving on, and you might’ve succeeded.

“I don’t care what he’d say.” You decided. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But we want him to be.” Venom insisted. “We want him back, remember?”

“I don’t know what I want.” You answered honestly. “I just want to get ready for tonight.”

“Why are you getting ready now? You have 5 hours until you have to be there and it’s right across the hall.” Venom teased.

“Only 5 hours?” You sighed. “We better get moving.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #iron man

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jaehyunnie77 · 3 years

Text

Cursed

Pairing: Jaehyun x f reader

Genre: straight up fluff ; best friends to lovers au

Words: 1.1k

A/N: I've been in my jaehyun feelings lately so I wrote this little drabble. Enjoy fluffy Jaehyunnie <3

"Jae." You are currently cooped up next to your best friend on your couch. You look up at him to see his fluffy hair and head hung back with his eyes closed. His eyeglasses still intact and you couldn't help but just admire him. You two have been working on your English essays before the deadline in 48 hours. Usually if you took a break, you would eat or play video games, but not tonight. You both opted to watch whatever was on TV, except Jaehyun soon fell asleep. You closed your eyes in hope of getting some rest, but it never came as your brain doesn't know the defintion of shutting up. After you called his name and no response, you're more persistent to see how far you can go.

"Jaaaee." you say a bit more louder this time. When he still doesn't answer, you lightly pinch his cheeks and poke at the place his dimples normally pop out. He stirs a little bit, but still remain quiet.

"Jaaahyuuunniieee." Your smile grew wider as that seems to work and his eyes slowly flutter open. He looks down at you with a 'what the hell are you doing' look.

"What do you want brat?" he sasy annoyed.

"What if I never find my soulmate or anyone who is really interested in me?" you pout at your best friend.

"Did you really wake me up for this talk again?" he side eyes you. From his point of view, you pouting was the cutest thing he has ever seen. When you don't answer, he gives in sighing and adjusting his glasses. "Then I guess you and I will forever be single until we are old and gray and living in a retirement home."

"Pushing each other in our wheelchairs and having a race down the hall sounds nice." you say as your imagination takes you to that moment with your best friend.

"That too, but I was thinking of something else."

"What? Are you thinking of holding onto each other and dying together just like The Notebook?" you ask amuse.

"Yes." Jaehyun says.

You furrow your eyebrows together. Jaehyun doesn't understand your struggles. At least he's been in stable relationships that lasted longer than six months, while you can't even last three. He has seen you go through break ups after break ups since high school and now you're in your third year of college and still not in a relationship. You're starting to think it's not meant for you and you don't know how you feel about that.

"I don't know Jae. I just feel like I'm cursed or something. I've never had any luck in that department, but at least for you you'll be set. You'll meet the love of your life, get married, and have ten amazing kids and I'll be the aunt that is cursed with love. Oh my god! What if your kids end up not liking me because they think I'll curse them too or something?" you sat there horrify at the thought as your eyes grow bigger.

Jaehyun chuckles at you in amusement. "You're cute you know that? Well if that happens, then I would say their mom is definitely not cursed." You nod in agreement until his words sunk in.

"Wait, what?" you whip your head so fast towards him, you're sure you pulled a muscle.

He sits up straighter and turns his whole body facing you. "I would say their mother, who happens to be my best friend and soulmate, is not cursed. Because of her I fell in love and because of her I have ten children running around the house." He smiles so brightly and his dimples make an appearance.

"I - you - wha - I -"

Jaehyun laughs at your state of shock and confusion trying to put the pieces together. "Did you know you talk in your sleep?" You shake your head no petrify at this new revelation. "You were asleep next to me one night and you started muttering. First I thought you were having a nightmare or worse, you were possessed sinch we were watching The Conjuring that night. I looked at you and you still had your eyes closed and talking calmly. You're very chatty by the way. Then you said the words I have always hoped you would say to me one day."

"And what did I say?" you quietly ask.

"You said you were in love with your best friend and wished he felt the same way." He takes your hand into his. "Well I'm telling you now, that I do feel the same and I love you." He squeezes your hand slightly and just gives you his infamous Jaehyun smiles that you can't help but get lost in.

You vividly remember that dream from weeks ago and he is barely telling you now? You start hitting his chest and shoulders lightly, "You've kept this secret for weeks and you're now just telling me this? What is wrong with you?" you say in between hits and him laughing obnoxiously.

Once you cease your attacks, you just look at him and take in all of his features. "Do you really mean it or you just think you're in love with me because I said it in my sleep and you're my best friend so this is part of your duty and because you pity me and my lack of a love life?" you say all in one breath.

He stares deep into your eyes as he pushes back a strand of hair behind your ear and caress your face. "Y/n, I mean every single word that I said. I want you to be in my life and I can't wait to spend my forever with you and your lack of a love life."

You mindlessly put your arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. Excitment flow through your body and when you break the hug, you can feel the electricity between you both. You close your face into his and kiss him softly for the first time. You linger there for a few until he kisses you back with more force and love. The kiss was sweet and full of love that warms your heart.

"I can't wait for our forever, but we aren't having ten kids Jae."

You both snuggle on the couch again and begin arguing about ten mini Jaehyun and you's running around the house. Jaehyun says it will happen one way or another, while you say you can't handle going back the hospital every other year.

Ten kids or not, you were excited for your future with the love of your life. You guess you weren't cursed after all, because your person has always been in front of you all this time.

#jaehyun #jaehyun oneshot #nct fanfics jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fics #jaehyun au #jaehyun drabbles

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onecanonlife · 3 years

Text

Wilbur wakes up one morning to find white in his hair. This is—irritating, for several reasons, but that’s all it is. An annoyance. A distraction.

There’s nothing deeper at work here. There’s nothing wrong at all.

(Or, the stresses of the presidency give Wilbur a white streak of hair earlier in canon, and somehow, this serves as the cry for help he can never bring himself to make.)

(word count: 6,249)

(first part) (third part) (fourth part)

——————–

Part Two

He tries to pen a letter to Phil. It’s more difficult than he remembers.

Dear Phil, he starts, and that’s good, that’s fine. All is well here in L’Manberg, he continues, and that’s good too. But from there, he’s stumped. What next? What does he tell him about? This is the part where he’d launch into a cute story, something Fundy got up to, or some trouble Tommy caused. But nothing comes to mind. Nothing recent, anyway. But the last letter he sent to Phil was—a month ago? Two, now? So he needs to write, because Phil’s far from a helicopter parent, but he still likes to know what he’s up to. Will still worry, if he gives him a reason to.

So, he needs to finish a letter. Needs to stop procrastinating.

He could write about Niki’s bakery. He can’t remember if he told Phil about it or not. He probably hasn’t, not if it’s truly been that long since his last missive. So he sets his pen to work, scratching out a few more sentences, and he reminds himself that he doesn’t need to be overly verbose. Phil doesn’t need an essay. Just a paragraph or two to assure him that he and everyone else are well, that he’s having fun, that he’s thriving.

Telling him about the bakery will work for that. Except, then, after a bit, he ends up writing, It eases my mind to visit. Truly, it’s one of the only places I let myself relax, and—no. No, that won’t do. That will make him sound as though he’s stressed, and he doesn’t want Phil to worry about that. There’s nothing Phil can do about it, and he couldn’t stand it if the admission led his father to think any less of him. He’s not going to—to start complaining to him. That would be ridiculous.

So he scratches the line out and continues on, except then, he writes, I worry that I’m shirking my responsibilities, but then, I’m probably doing that anyway, simply by virtue of not being, and he stops before he can finish that sentence, because, no. Simply, no. He is absolutely not telling Phil that.

He bites his lip. He’s already scratched out enough that he’ll probably need to start an entirely new draft anyway.

He sets the tip of the pen to paper.

I’m exhausted, he writes, but my mind won’t allow me to rest. Too many shadows in too many dark corners, I suppose. Too many thoughts circling. It’s like a hurricane in my head, and I should be in the eye, but I think the storm wall has caught me. I’m tossing in the air, at the wind’s mercy, and I’m afraid of what will happen when I fall.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I ever assumed that I did. And I feel afraid, because my inadequacies are failing everyone around me. I have to protect them, have to keep them safe, but sometimes I close my eyes and see everything aflame, or I see Dream and his friends flooding into the Final Control Room. We were betrayed, there. I’ve never told you this, but we all lost a life. Me, Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy. I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Somehow, I never thought that dying would be terrifying for me, considering who my mother is, but it is. I was so scared, and I still am.

I think I’m a disappointment. I think that if this country fails, it will be my fault, and it will only be right if I go down with it. My people have little faith in me, and they’re right not to, but I can’t bring myself to step down, because at the end of the day, I’m addicted to the power and responsibility. I’m nothing without it. If I can’t manage this, then how can I deserve the trust and faith that others have placed in me?

Most days, I think that everyone hates me. Most days, I think they’re right to do so. I can’t trust anyone. Not completely, not fully, no matter how much I love them. I feel very alone.

He stops writing. Reads it over. Feels his lips quirk up into a wry smile. He’s certainly not sending that.

But the smile fades away after a moment. He supposes that he hoped writing it all out would make him feel better, but if anything, he feels more tired. Drained. Wrung out. Blank.

He fishes around for a new, unmarred sheet of paper.

Dear Phil, he writes, All is well here in L’Manberg. The city is thriving, and my people are well. I really do want you to visit sometime—but not yet, of course! We’ve been having a spot of trouble with creeper holes lately, and I don’t want that to be your first impression. Between you and me, it’s just a little bit embarrassing.

It’s been a while since I last wrote. I do apologize for that; I don’t know where the time goes. There’s always so much to be doing, and I’m more and more thankful for this chance every day. It’s a lot of fun, having a country of our own, and we’re all working to make it as good as it can be. You should see Niki’s bakery—you haven’t tasted heaven until you’ve tasted something Niki’s baked, I swear. She’s a goddess, really, an essential pillar of our society. Baked goods make the world go round.

Tommy and Tubbo are well, and getting into just as much trouble as usual. Fundy grows up more and more every day. I’m so proud of them all.

Be careful of undead infants, and tell Technoblade I said hello, if you get the chance.

All love,

Wilbur

He sets down his pen and rereads. He’s satisfied with that, and more importantly, Phil will be as well. Now all that’s left is to let the ink dry and—

“Hey, boss man,” Tubbo says, opening the door to his office without knocking. He startles, violently. “How’re things coming?”

His heart shouldn’t be racing. It’s just Tubbo. But he came in without warning, which is—irritating. It’s irritating. That’s what it is. He feels himself flushing, just slightly, but surely it’s annoyance.

“There’s a lot of ‘things’ you could be referring to,” he says. “Are you going to be a little more specific?”

“Nah,” Tubbo says, meandering further into the room. But it’s not a regular meander, it’s a Tubbo sort of meander, which means that he’s here for a purpose. He just doesn’t want to reveal it just yet, or perhaps he’s figuring out how he wants to approach it. “Just wanted to know about general things. Big, vast things. Deep things.”

“Deep things,” he repeats, nodding. “Not much of that going on at the moment. Not a lot of deep things in paperwork.” He pulls the nearest sheet of paper closer to him; technically, that’s what he ought to be doing, not writing letters to a father that’s worlds away. He scans the words; it looks like something complicated about trade, something that sets his head to pounding already. The words swim, like they’re dancing, like they’re taking glee in the way he can’t comprehend them.

“I thought there were lots of deep things in paperwork,” Tubbo says, and he looks back up. “I thought that’s why the print is always so small.”

“Maybe,” he says.

“It makes sense to me,” Tubbo says. “Wilbur, is your hair really white?”

He freezes. “What?”

“Niki said that your hair is turning white,” Tubbo says. “Like an old man’s.”

Anger flares. He thought—he didn’t like that she found out about it, but he at least thought he could trust her with it. Thought that she would keep it to herself, that she wouldn’t let it spread to others, to others that might take it and try to use it as a knife to his jugular. But here is Tubbo, and Tubbo is so obviously staring at his hair, eyes flicking across his forehead and around his ears, and he won’t see anything. He double-checked when he arrived at the office; all of the white is under his hat. But he doesn’t like that Tubbo is looking, that Tubbo is actively trying to see, that Tubbo is treating him like some kind of curiosity, and that Tubbo surely must have some sort of opinion and that opinion cannot be anything but—

“Niki said that hair can turn grey or white if a person is very stressed,” Tubbo says, casually. “Are you very stressed, Wilbur?”

Oh—oh, fuck. Is that actually a thing that happens?

“I told her, it was a bad dye job,” he mutters, glancing back down at his paper. The words remain incomprehensible, but he’s not focusing on it. He nudges his pen with his finger, latching onto the light clicking sound it makes as it rolls and then comes to rest.

“Yeah?” Tubbo asks doubtfully. “What, were you trying to dye your hair white?”

He grits his teeth. “Was there something you needed, Tubbo?”

“Nothing I needed, really,” Tubbo answers. “I just wanted to see how you’ve been doing. Seems like forever since you came out of this office. Do you live in here now or something?” He keeps talking before Wilbur can reply, which is just as well, since he might as well live here, considering the state of his room. “And I think I’ve got a new design for a TNT cannon. Kind of streamlined, you might say, if you wanted to check it out. But I think you should just come and hang out with me and Tommy sometime. You never really do that anymore.”

He has a few feelings about TNT cannons. He doesn’t think about TNT too often, because when he does, his mind fills with fire and smoke, and his heart starts beating faster, climbing into his throat, and he wants to run, wants to run far and fast and away, wants to sit and shake until his body can’t move anymore, even when he knows very well that nothing around him is exploding, that his country is secure and his friends are safe. But some days, he can’t so much as smell smoke without a memory rising up to overwhelm him.

Once, he found himself zoning out in the middle of a conversation, a nearby campfire taking him far away from himself, and be barely returned in time to cover for his lapse.

He’s not a fan of TNT cannons, and he can’t bring himself to pretend to be, not even for the sake of Tubbo’s enthusiasm. And—

Hanging out with him and Tommy sounds nice. He misses them, he admits, and some part of him misses the old days, the first days and weeks and months on the server, when it was them and a dream and his fingers dancing on the frets of his guitar, his voice strong and steady and hopes high on the wind, words ready at his lips and Tommy a force of chaos at his back and Tubbo clever and quick by his side, and he just—misses it. Misses them. Misses it all, misses the days before so much was riding on his shoulders.

But he hasn’t the time.

“I’m sorry, Tubbo,” he says, and tries on a smile. “I’m a bit busy right now. Take a rain check?”

“Sure,” Tubbo says, and shrugs. “Later, then. You say that a lot, though, do you know that?”

He winces. Tubbo smiles. He means no harm. Probably. He thinks he would know if Tubbo meant him harm.

And then, Tubbo leaves, and the tension leaves him all in a rush, leaving him—exhausted. Exhausted, and near tears, for some reason, but he blinks those back. That can wait. He doesn’t cry in his office. That’s unprofessional; anyone could walk in on him, and then where would he be?

What was he doing before Tubbo came in?

Right. The letter. He glances it over, scoops it up, and tucks it away in an envelope. He’ll chuck it at the next crow he sees.

---

It’s Tommy who barges in next, a day later, though at least this time, he’s somewhat expecting it. Because if Tubbo knows, then Tommy knows. That is simply the way of the world. He has a difficult time imagining anything ever coming between those two, even information that would be better kept to oneself.

“Why the fuck is Tubbo going on about your hair, then?” Tommy says, with no preamble, and despite himself, Wilbur smiles. That’s Tommy, all the subtlety of a charging bull. And the question is just as irritating as it was yesterday when it came from Tubbo, but he’s more prepared for it this time. He looks up from his work—work that he’s actually doing, at the moment, and he feels rather proud of himself for it—and meets Tommy’s gaze squarely.

“I’ve had an unfortunate encounter with some hair dye,” he says. “The hair dye won.”

“What the fuck?” Tommy says, but there’s already a laugh in his eyes. Good. Tommy is fairly easily deflected, he’s learned. Because Tommy looks up to him, he knows, and that means he’ll willfully look away from any evidence suggesting that perhaps he is not worthy of admiration after all.

It makes him sick, the way he’s thinking about it. Makes him feel like he’s using Tommy, somehow, taking advantage of his affection, when really, that’s the last thing he wants to do. Tommy is his little brother, his little brother by choice, by years spent on the road together, by hushed conversations in the dead of night as the stars bear witness, by all the little intricacies they’ve learned about each other as time continues to pass. Tommy is his little brother, which means it’s his job to protect him, as best he can. He’s done a piss-poor job of that lately. Tommy only has one life left now.

So he can’t fail him again. And perhaps it’s selfish of him, but he doesn’t want Tommy to think he’s failed, either. If it ever turns out that Tommy hates him, he thinks it might kill him.

“Can I see?” Tommy asks, and he prepared for this, too, braced for it. With a long-suffering sigh, he sweeps his hat off his head and angles his face forward, letting Tommy take a good look.

“Satisfied?” he asks.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says. “How the fuck did you manage that?”

“Very impressively,” he says, and puts his hat back on. He’s sure to tuck all the white back under it. It’s a practiced motion, by now. “Or perhaps not very impressively, as it were.”

“Well, it looks sick,” Tommy says, and Wilbur glances at him immediately. He doesn’t seem like he’s lying. He seems almost—impressed? But he sees him looking right away, and immediately backtracks. “Sick as in disgusting, obviously. It makes you look old. Like an old, old man.”

Tommy’s joking, of course, is all bluster and smoke, no fire. But something in his chest stings, and he realizes that the words hurt, and more than that, they hurt because it’s an echo of what he tells himself. He doesn’t like to look in the mirror anymore—though he never did to begin with, actually—but he is well aware of what he looks like. The white hair is just one more symbol of his failing faith, his lack of ability to handle the job that he set himself out to take in the first place. He should be able to do this, and yet, he can’t, and the white hair—well.

After what Tubbo said, it can only mean that he’s weak. Physical proof of his incompetence. That’s really the only way to look at it.

“Shut the fuck up, child,” he says. “Why don’t you go and find a juice box to drink?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Tommy says, and the song and dance is familiar. Tommy rolls his eyes at him—the disrespect in this house is unbelievable—but he turns to go, and that means that Wilbur’s won.

What he’s won, he doesn’t know. Some more self-disgust, maybe. That’s what it feels like.

Lying to Niki. Lying to Tubbo. And now, lying to Tommy. What a stunning specimen of humanity he is. Working through them all like he has a checklist.

And then, Tommy stops in the doorway and looks back.

“Wilbur?” he asks. “You really are alright, aren’t you?”

And that gives him pause. Tommy’s not supposed to ask him that question. If anything, he’s the one who’s supposed to be asking Tommy that.

“It’s just that,” Tommy continues, “I don’t see you around so much, these days. Except for when there’s a problem, and you come out to try and solve it with, with your words and shit. Diplomatic shit, innit? You do that, but you don’t just—you never come to just spend time with us anymore, like how it used to be. And I just sort of miss that, you know? So I was thinking that maybe we could try and do that again, sometime soon? Just, hanging out, like the good old days?”

The good old days.

He doesn’t quite have the heart to tell Tommy that the good old days are long over, that they have been long over since the day Sapnap came to arrest them all for starting a drug empire and the forest around them was set ablaze, since the day they declared independence from the Dream SMP, since the day he in all his naivety declared that all they had to do was ignore the conflict and it would pass them by, since the day he was proven so very, very wrong. Since the day he learned that as much as he values his words, his diplomacy, his efforts toward nonviolence, some people only recognize power in iron and steel.

Since the day he watched his men, his comrades, his family die around him, and knew that he led them to that fate. Since the day Tommy traded his life and then his discs for their independence, and he knew that he couldn’t do a thing to help.

The good old days are long gone. The good old days belong to a different version of him, one that was young and hopeful and stupid, one that had no idea what he was getting into. And he likes to think that he’s still hopeful, that he still strives for a better future, but—

He’s learned. Nothing comes easy, here. There will be no more halcyon summers. The days are getting colder, and there will be no more rest.

“Sure,” he says, and this lie tastes far more bitter than all the rest. “I’d like that.” He gestures at his desk. “I’ve been really busy, but I would like to spend time with you. I’ll let you know when I can, alright?”

And Tommy believes him. He sees it in his answering smile, and he hates himself.

“Sounds good, big man,” Tommy says. “See you later then, yeah?”

“See you later,” Wilbur agrees, and then Tommy, too, is gone. He’s alone in his office, with his duties and his thoughts, and neither of them are kind.

Not that he thinks himself deserving of much kindness.

---

He waits two weeks before visiting the bakery again. It’s not completely intentional; he doesn’t have much time to get away anyhow. But part of it certainly is. He doesn’t want to come again so soon, doesn’t want to know how Niki’s going to look at him, doesn’t want her to poke and prod at something that isn’t important, that is a minor, irritating detail. He doesn’t want to discuss it, and he thinks that Niki might try, so he stays away.

But not forever. He can’t bring himself to take so drastic a step, even if his visits are a bit of a distraction. One that, perhaps, he can’t really afford.

So he steps inside and immediately wants to backtrack, because Niki’s not the only one here. Fundy and Jack Manifold are both sat at the counter, and both of them are looking at him now, having swiveled in their seats to watch his entrance. And that means he can’t leave, because if he leaves without saying anything, they’ll ask him why he did that, and he’ll have to make up something to avoid admitting that he’s been a little bit terrified of interacting with people lately. Because absolutely no one can know that.

Because it’s stupid. Pathetic. He’s pathetic, and he’s become quite accustomed to that word. It seems to live in his head now, like it’s made a nest in his brain, a little roost. Pathetic. Everything he does feels pathetic to him, and probably to everyone else around him.

“Oh,” Jack Manifold says. “Hi, Wilbur. Didn’t expect you in.”

Fundy doesn’t say anything. Just blinks at him, tail swishing. He finds that he doesn’t know what to say. But he needs to think of something, some reason for being here, and if he can manage it, some excuse for extricating himself quickly. The silence has gone on just a little too long, and he’s been standing in the doorway for a full five seconds now, and he needs to come in completely because it’s weird, what he’s doing, and they’re going to call him on it.

And then, Niki pops her head between the two of them, leaning far over the counter, resting practically all of her weight on it.

“Wil!” she says, and smiles. “I’m glad you came! I’m making honey bread, and I know you like that.”

And just like that, he relaxes. Not completely, but to ask that of him would be to expect the impossible. It’s enough.

“I do,” he agrees, and steps further in, letting the door close behind him. “Seems I have good timing.”

The tension in the air—imagined or real? He’s not sure—dissipates. Jack grins at him, raising a glass of—probably not alcohol? He doesn’t think Niki keeps alcohol stocked in here, or at least, none other than the cooking variety. Might be milk. And Fundy still doesn’t say anything, but his tail keeps twitching, and his eyes keep darting between him and the empty stool next to him, and he really hopes that’s an invitation, because that’s how he’s going to take it.

He slides onto the seat, letting his coat fall behind him. His hat, he keeps on. He’s not laying his face on the counter today. Not with other people here. He probably wouldn’t have anyway, tempting though it is. He always feels sleepier in here. It’s probably the warmth.

But he won’t fall asleep.

Niki’s gone back over to the ovens, inspecting her bread. He can smell it on the air, fresh and sweet, and his stomach twists. Has he eaten today? He’s not sure that he has. Though he definitely did yesterday—evening. He thinks. Definitely. A couple apple slices shoved in his mouth, swallowed without really tasting them. But it counts.

“What have you two been up to lately?” he asks. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not too much,” Jack Manifold answers easily. “Mostly been hanging around Tommy and Tubbo. Getting into mischief, you might say. Nothing too serious or anything!” he is quick to add, seemingly remembering exactly who he’s talking to. “Nothing—I mean, nothing illegal, no, sir. Not us. But, you know, it’d probably be best not to share the details.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Fair enough,” he says. “As long as it’s not something that I’m going to have to clean up later.”

“We’ve already cleaned up,” Jack says.

“Good.” He looks at Fundy, and affection blooms in his chest, sudden, almost overpowering. His boy’s grown up of late. He can barely remember it happening. It seems that only yesterday he came up knee-high, and now, he’s a man in his own right. But still his little champion, always. “How about you? I know we haven’t been fishing yet. I’m sorry—you know that’s the first thing on my list when I finally get a bit of time.”

Fundy glances away. “I know,” he says. “I’ve been fine.”

“I’m glad,” he says, and Niki saves him from having to say anything else—though why he thinks of it as a rescue, he isn’t sure—by walking back over and placing some bread on the counter before them.

“Fresh from the oven,” she says, “so it’s hot. Be careful.”

It smells nothing short of divine. Niki smiles, pleased, as Fundy and Jack reach for a piece right away, and he isn’t far behind them. Though he tries to be a little more neat about it than the other two are being. The way they’re digging in, he’d think that they’re starving. Frankly, he can’t blame them for it, not when it’s Niki’s food on the line, but he still tries to have a bit more decorum.

“Niki,” Jack says, mouth full, “you are an angel among mere mortals.” Fundy doesn’t say anything, but his tail is swishing happily.

Niki rolls her eyes, and takes a bit of bread for herself. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she admonishes. “But thank you, Jack.” And then, her gaze drifts to him, and he finds himself stiffening. For no reason. It’s Niki. It’s just Niki. He trusts Niki. She’s basically his best friend, and he’s comfortable here. He is. This is a place of safety, as much as there are such places to be found. Safety, true safety, is not a thing that exists, not really. But here is as close as he can get to it.

Why can’t he let himself unwind?

Is it because Jack and Fundy are here? He hopes not; that wouldn’t be fair to them. They are his countrymen, his citizens, and more than that, Fundy is his son. What would that say about him as a parent, if being around his child makes him nervous? Not just nervous in a I-hope-I-don’t-fuck-up-my-kid way, but in a I-don’t-feel-safe-here way?

But his shoulders are stiff, slightly hunched. He can’t force them down. So he has to hope it’s not too obvious, that the lines of his coat disguise the hard set of his posture, a stance that indicates he thinks there’s a threat, if they know how to read him right. Which they shouldn’t. They shouldn’t.

“How about you, Wil?” Niki asks, and he takes another bite of bread. Small, so as not to get crumbs everywhere, and he swallows before answering.

“It’s as good as always,” he says. “Do I have to say it?” Though it sits heavier in his stomach than usual, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m glad,” she says. “It’s been a little while since the last time I saw you. You are eating properly, right?”

It’s concern, not an accusation, no matter how misplaced. The question shouldn’t raise his hackles. But it does, and all that’s left is to keep it from showing, to keep it from his voice.

“Of course I am,” he says, and before he can get anything else out, Jack laughs.

“Wouldn’t do to have our president starving on us,” he says, and his voice is light, full of laughter, joking. It’s a good thing that Jack feels comfortable enough to joke with him. He’s glad, because—he doesn’t know him all that well, definitely doesn’t trust him, not yet, but Tommy and Tubbo seem to like him, so it’s good that he’s fitting in, that he’s found a place, that he likes it here. Though liking isn’t always enough to stop the betrayal before it comes. He ought to keep a closer eye on him, just in case, but—that wasn’t the point of this.

The point is that, joking or not, Jack is completely right. It wouldn’t do to let his eating habits interfere with his duties. He’s already weak; is he going to add malnutrition on top of that? Never mind that he often doesn’t feel like eating, these days, that he really only has an appetite when he’s here, in the bakery. He needs to keep his strength up so that he can get things done. And he can’t force himself to sleep, so that problem is out of his hands, but he can force himself to eat.

Jack couldn’t have known what he was prodding at, of course, when he made the comment. But he takes another bite of bread anyway. It’s tough to swallow, even though it tastes delicious. He doesn’t know why. He’s never had an issue eating Niki’s food before. He hopes this doesn’t become a pattern.

And he hopes it’s not because there’s other people here. It would be an explanation, at least, but not one he likes. The implications there wouldn’t be—good, to say the least.

“Jack,” Niki says quietly, admonishingly, and he wishes she wouldn’t, because he doesn’t want Jack to examine what he’s just said, to analyze it as anything other than a joke. So he musters a smile, a quirk of an eyebrow, and Jack grins back at him.

Safe territory. Level ground, even footing. Relatively speaking.

And then Fundy pipes up.

“Hey, Wil,” he says, and Wilbur wonders, suddenly, where he picked up the habit of calling him ‘Wil’ or ‘Wilbur’ more often than he calls him ‘dad’. Not that he minds it, but it’s curious. Could it be from him? He himself calls Phil by his name more often than not. Perhaps it’s genetic. But then Fundy continues, “Is your hair actually, like, turning white?” and Wilbur is no longer interested in thinking about little details like that.

He’s tense again. Tense enough now that they can probably see it, even without looking too hard.

“Why is everyone so interested in my hair, lately?” he asks. “It’s just hair. Grows out of everyone’s head. Except for yours, Jack Manifold.”

“Point,” Jack Manifold agrees, but there is a gleam in his eyes, behind his glasses, that says he too is interested in the direction this conversation has taken. Not ideal.

“It’s just that,” Fundy persists, “it’s a little bit weird, right? If it’s turning white like that? Is that normal?”

“It’s not ‘turning white,’” he says, which might be a mistake, because he’s lying through his teeth, now. “It was a bad hair dye incident. Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

Jack laughs. “How’d you manage to fuck up hair dye that badly?” he asks, and the way the question is phrased is irritating; he doesn’t want Jack to start thinking he’s an incompetent fool who can’t dye his own hair properly. But he’ll also take this line of questioning over the other, so perhaps it balances out.

Except then, Niki splays both her hands on the counter. Any earlier levity that she had is now gone.

“Is that so?” she says. “That’s not what you told me.”

His heart is pounding again. He really, really hopes that he’s not developing a condition of some kind. He’d know if he were having a heart attack, wouldn’t he?

“I’m pretty sure that is what I told you,” he says, and Niki shakes her head.

“No, you told me that it wasn’t dye, when I asked,” she says. “And then you said that it was, but you were lying.”

She doesn’t sound angry, which is perhaps the worst thing about all of this. She doesn’t sound angry that he’s lied to her, taken advantage of her trust and fed her a blatant falsehood. Her voice is calm, matter-of-fact, and there’s a glimmer in her eyes that isn’t annoyance or betrayal or any of the other emotions she should be feeling. Instead, it’s concern. That blasted concern again.

He doesn’t deserve it.

“Really?” Jack says. “Huh. Well, what’d you do that for, then?”

He’s changed his mind. The worst thing about all of this is that there are other people present. That he’s not alone with Niki, which would still be an undesirable situation, but manageable. Jack Manifold and Fundy are both here, staring at him, expecting answers that he doesn’t want to give, and Fundy—

Why is his son looking at him like that?

“Why are you all so pressed about my hair?” he demands. “It’s hair. You don’t even see it.”

“I mean,” Fundy says, “like I said, it’s just kind of weird, right? I don’t think hair just turns white for no reason. Not unless you’re really old, which you’re not, I don’t think. So I guess we’re just curious about what the reason is.”

He doesn’t want to talk about this. This isn’t why he came here. This place, this bakery, these people, it’s supposed to be an escape from his responsibilities. The only one he allows himself, even though he knows he shouldn’t. It’s the one place where he doesn’t have to think about his own failings, where he can relax a bit and let himself be, if only for a little while, but here they are, pushing him on this, and he doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want to be reminded of his incompetency. And they don’t know, can’t know exactly what they’re doing to him, but—

He slams his hand against the counter, sudden emotion boiling over. They all jump, the three of them. Niki’s eyes widen, and Fundy’s ears press back against his skull.

“Then don’t be,” he snaps. “Leave it the fuck alone. It’s really none of your business, is it?”

There is a moment of silence. The only sound is the crackling of furnaces.

“I guess not,” Fundy mutters, and he realizes what he’s done.

He’s just snapped, lashed out at his friends, his countrymen, his son, and for what? Because their questions are stressing him out? He should have turned around and left the moment he saw them in here, no matter what they would have thought, because this is worse. This is so much worse than that, and now he feels like an absolute shitstain of a human being. What kind of person gets so fucking upset over questions about his hair?

“I’m sorry,” he says. Too little, too late. “I didn’t mean—” Fundy is looking at him. They all are, and suddenly, he can’t bear it. Not any longer. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot of work to do. I really should be going. Thank you for the bread, Niki.”

It’s painfully transparent, and he is very aware of the fact that it’s the exact same way that he rushed out of the bakery when he was last here. Except this time, there are more people here to witness his shame.

History repeats itself, he thinks, bitterly. History repeats itself, and it only gets worse.

But he’s not staying here. He can’t. He just—can’t. Because he feels very upset over such a stupid little thing, and he’s upset that he’s upset, and now he’s upset other people, and he can’t stay here any longer, because if he does, the gods only know what’s going to fly out of his mouth next.

“Wil, please stay,” Niki says, but he’s already standing.

“Be seeing you all,” he says, and the door isn’t far, but it feels like miles, because he can feel their stares burning into his back as he makes his exit.

“Aw, wait, Wilbur, you don’t have to—” Jack starts, but he’s out the door. He’s out the door, and he lets it swing shut behind him, and the words cut off. He doesn’t have to listen to them. So if Fundy says anything, he doesn’t hear it, and he wonders why that makes him feel so much worse. Worse than he does already, which is no mean feat.

His stomach growls. He’s hungry. How many bites of bread did he take? Two? Three? Not enough to be filling. But somehow, he already knows that if he seeks food elsewhere, it will turn to ash in his mouth. And he can’t go back, not after the scene he’s just made, so he’s going to have to be hungry. Which is fine. He’s fine. He’s fine, even though he’s just fucked everything up, and he rather thinks he might not be able to show Niki his face ever again. So, no more bakery. No more safe place, and wow, he is being a dramatic fuck, isn’t he? But he can’t help himself. He never can.

He should have known better from the start. There is no such thing as safety. No exceptions. He should have tried harder to remember that. And he’s not angry, not anymore, not really, because they weren’t aware of the hornets’ nest they were stirring up; rather, he’s angry at himself, for losing control, for letting himself react, for not being able to handle a simple question with the poise and calm that is expected of him as president.

For being weak. That’s what it comes down to. His weakness. Persistent, and now, persistently on display.

He does a lot of screaming into his pillow that night. It doesn’t help. And sleep, it seems, is determined to continue its avoidance, so the night stretches long, and even his tears eventually run dry.

---

The next day, Niki comes to his office.

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

Curiosity // Luke Patterson

Summary: After filling up another journal designed his songbook Luke is left empty handed. With the offer to a shelf of blanket journals is given he’s immediately choosing. But Luke’s curiosity leads him to a discovery. In other words Luke finds Perfect Harmony in Reader’s bedroom.

Requested: Yes by @averyharrypotterlife

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.7 (including lyrics)

A/N: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the 5000+ followers whether it was years ago and you didn’t unfollow or in the future. Thank you for enjoying and interacting in something I’ve always loved: writing.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Luke’s always been a curious person going as far back as his early childhood. The most consistent evidence being during the Christmas holidays. Until he was ten, yes, he’s aware that his friends stopped believing in Santa way earlier. The young lad would stay up hidden in the living room waiting to catch Santa. Without fail, Luke would wake up in his outer space planet sheets having fallen asleep in his mission.

When he was twelve years old, he was left at his aunt and uncle’s house for the weekend due to a work-related thing. His older cousin was eighteen at the time and at college, so Luke stayed in his bedroom. Luke couldn’t help but snoop through Bryan’s personal items, and in a drawer with a false bottom, he discovered magazines.

Luke had a lot of fun that weekend diligently going through the magazines his mother would skin his hide even knowing about them. He may have had to use the excuse of having a cold for the entire box of Kleenex missing. No one was the wiser on that weekend.

Now when Luke was fourteen years old, he had snuck into the Rated R film Candyman with Alex and Reggie. Luke’s parents had been strict in their rules and definitely had shot down the question of seeing the film. The three didn’t sleep with the lights out for a month after that, and the truth came out when no lie was sufficient to their concerned parents.

Luke Patterson didn’t care about boundaries. Why ask for permission when you can just ask for forgiveness? It worked with going through Julie’s dream box, but all personal items got hidden from the ghostly guitarist.

“No!” Luke exclaimed flipping through his song journal once more in hopes of a blank page. The frustration in his body snapping the pencil he had been using.

“You good?” You questioned glancing up from the essay you graded as a teacher’s assistant for an AP course. Luke’s frustrated brown met yours with a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ve filled my journal up. I hate using loose-leaf, but no money means no buying things.” Luke roughly scrubbed one hand on his face.

“You could always just forever borrow one from the- “Luke quickly shot that down with a look of absolute horror, “Okay…so stealing a no.”

“I did listen to my parents on certain aspects. I would never steal anything, other than the food when we didn’t have enough cash.” Luke’s brown hue had softened back into the hazel that caused flutters in your heart, “I have no respect for thieves.”

You nodded before scribbling a suggestion on the paper in dark red, “I have a shelf in my room dedicated solely to blank journals. If you want to, you can take one free of charge.”

With a quick smile, Luke disappeared from the room to your personal domain he sometimes hung out with you in. You had no misgivings on the teen finding solace in your room and gave him free rein; your prized possessions hidden very well.

Luke appeared in the soft blue and lilac bedroom with the queen white iron wrought style bed in the middle. A white desk in the corner with a multitude of bookcases and shelves in the room. The desk chair neatly pushed into the desk as well he went straight to the shelf.

Journals of all colours and styles with a label on the shelf noting them as empty. It was packed with dozens, but it was the midnight blue one that called to the boy. In his reach, he bumped an emerald green one off the edge. It opened having hit the edge of the desk.

As he leaned down, he noticed notations in the margins, now remember how Luke is a curious guy? He only hesitated a second before he was reading the pages of words in your signature script.

The guilt flared for a second before he justified it as being on the shelf you declared free game. So Luke settled sitting criss-cross against the side of your bed reading the words so eloquently written. Even notes allowed Luke to hear the melody in his mind.

Assignment: Write a piece of literature from two points of views. Genre doesn’t matter as long as it is a minimum of one page and not exceed eight.

Step into my world

Bittersweet love story ’bout a girl

Shook me to the core

Voice like an angel

I’ve never heard before

The words took his breath away, recalling a moment he gushed to Alex on how he had caught you singing. He had described your voice as being angelic, and it took him by complete surprise. He remembered Julie, and you entered the room shortly after with a nervous feeling if you had heard. Now Luke had his answer. His phantom heart pounded in anticipation for the reply to this first point of view.

Here in front of me

They’re shining so much brighter

Than I have ever seen

Life can be so mean

But when he goes, I know he doesn’t leave

The smile threatened to split his face with the elation as he continued reading with a subconscious hum. His fingers tapping the sides of the paper as his hazel irises tinged green ate up the words.

The truth is finally breaking through

Two worlds collide when I’m with you

Our voices rise and soar so high

We come to life when we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

The world faded as Luke distinctly heard your angelic voice singing the parts he could easily recognize as perfect for you. There was something so powerful in this incredibly personal song only intended for your eyes and your teachers.

The next handful of lines left him breathless and astonished as he visualized not sitting across from each other. But engaging in another art form that can be so incredibly intimate for people; he imagined singing this while holding you in his arms.

You set me free

You and me together is more than chemistry

Love me as I am

I’ll hold your music here inside my hands

We say we’re friends, we play pretend

You’re more to me, we’re everything

Our voices rise and soar so high

We come to life when we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Luke went from humming to softly singing to the heartfelt tune with a flutter of butterflies deep in his stomach. When Julie saw Unsaid Emily, he had denied it as an experiment, and it was the truth. Luke wrote rock anthems and rock-pop with his living friend. He never dabbled into romantic ones.

He’d never read something so poetically beautiful it felt him weeping at the sheer amount of feelings.

I feel your rhythm in my heart

Yeah yeah yeah

You are my brightest burning star

Whoah whoah oh

I never knew a love so real (so real)

We’re heaven on earth

Melody and words

When we’re together we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

We say we’re friends (we play pretend)

You’re more to me (we create)

Perfect harmony

His eyes found the last line of the song setting him back in a dead silence returning to the start to reread it. On his third read, he found the notes from your teacher on a separate page.

Y/N, in my years of teaching, I’ve never read something with such meaning behind it. The longing, passion, respect and love you artfully encapsulated is rare. To have written, this means you’ve felt this. No corrects needed, and I felt compelled to not mark on the piece. Thank you for being vulnerable with me, for letting me step inside your mind and please never let this emotion fade.

Your grade is A+.

Luke’s lips pulled apart at the genuine words your teacher had written because it indeed was a word of art. Carefully Luke returned the notebook back to the shelf to retrieve the blue one that caught his attention. AS he turned, he found you leaning against the door frame with a soft smile.

“I am so sor-“

“No.” You replied, walking into the room, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I told you any notebook on that shelf. I can’t get mad, and I’ve seen you can’t leave something half-read.”

“Probably why my book reports were insanely well done in school.” Luke joked as you stepped in his personal space. The tension faded from his shoulders as he took in your features, “You got a perfect grade.”

“I did.” You simply spoke, staring up into his eyes, “You helped me with it.”

“How?”

“You told Alex what you felt about my voice. You looked nervous when I walked in, so I let it go. It wasn’t the time to bring it up. It’s called Perfect Harmony.” You told the ghost gently grazing your fingertips on his hand. The feeling sends shudders down his spine.

“I guess it just wasn’t the right time. With the band and-“

“-the whole soul owning thing. Too much but now that you’ve read that…what do you feel?” You hesitantly asked because reading it and discovering how someone feels is another to if the feelings are reciprocated back.

“That I was always meant to live in 2020. That I was meant to love you with every atom in my very being.” Luke murmured before he crashed his lips onto your own in a searing kiss that had your toe-curling.

The midnight blue journal dropped to the floor as his large calloused hands cupped your face to feel the warmth. The very journal would be filled with songs all about this person, Luke adored not matter his state as a ghost. Two worlds collided just as two souls came together in perfect harmony.

So, wrapped up in each other Luke didn’t notice something magical encased in the warm love. In the bedroom, the two teens were kissing in had two distinct heartbeats with a glow emanating from Luke Patterson.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown @badwolf00593 @blowakissbabe @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner @kaitieskidmore1 @writerinlearning @aiofheavenandhell @sageellsworth05

#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms imagines #charlie gillespie imagines #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #caitsy and ash productions

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Finally another oneshot, after forever and a day. I’m weak for soulmate AUs. I think most of you know that already.

SO WHY NOT ANOTHER?! WOO!

This one is based on a prompt given to me a hella long time ago, idk who sent it to me. Tell me who you are so I can credit you! I wrote down the prompt for me to remember, it’s something like; “You can write letters to your soulmate, and they travel through time either to a moment your soulmate needs the letter most or to a random point in time to them.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Dear Myself.

I’m doing this for school. We have to write letters to our future self. I am nine years old right now, the year is 2009. I hope you found a cool job! I don’t know what to do yet. I like drawing though! Science is icky, so I hope you’re not a scientist. But if you are, and if it makes us happy, then I guess it’s okay. Be the best scientist you can! If you are all moved out, did you ever get a pet hamster? Hamsters are so cute!

Oh, but most important. Yesterday, I was bullied by my Arch Enemy. You know who. Yeah. Anyway, she said some mean things and it just reminded me that sometimes life hurts, and people can hurt you real bad. But life is still pretty. A family of robins made a nest on my terrace outside my room, and I saw them after I was done crying. They are so cute, and made me happy again. So, always look for your family of robins to keep you happy, I guess. Life isn’t bad, even if some things and people are. I hope you remember that. Keep believing in yourself, and in others!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past).

Do not open this letter before 2020! Pretty please!

Shaking hands held the letter. It was written two years ago, but he only could have gotten it now. It just appeared on his desk out of nowhere. At first, he thought it was some sick joke. He had just moved to Gotham again, and none of his—

None of them knew he was back. But he recognized this handwriting. He had gotten exactly one letter from them before, written by an older version of this woman and received by him when he was ten. Not long after being taken in by Bruce Wayne. The letter back then had been short, precise. Comforting.

Hello there.

I am writing this in the year 2018. You see, I found out quite a while ago that my soulmate bond is unique. It sends letters to you that I write, from all across time. I can get your letters, too, so don’t hesitate to write to me if you need to vent. My letters might not always reach you in time to feel like a normal response, but I’ll keep writing if you do. I know your life isn’t easy, if the letters I’ve already gotten mean anything. But keep fighting. I know what it’s like to be the underdog. But I’m rooting for you.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, New Adult.

Jason’s hands crumpled the two pieces of paper in them, the older of the two already close to crumbling away. They had buried him with it, resurrected him with it. It had seen hell and back just like him, but he still kept it. Even with blurring ink and ripped edges and blood stains. The writing and names matched, even if his newer letter was written in the clumsy scrawl of a child. The nuances in the handwriting were still the same.

She would still be writing to him. This new letter he got was clearly the first, before she knew about her soulmate or how her letters would disappear after she wrote them just like his did. But 2009? It just sank into him, that she was younger than he was. By seven years.

But her words still kept him afloat better than any lecture from that asshole Bruce.

He couldn’t see her yet. Not any time soon, really. He was already eighteen, dead and resurrected, and she was barely eleven. He could wait.

She didn’t need somebody as screwed and dark as him right now, anyway. A murderer, a budding crime boss. If she needed someone killed for her, or someone to save her, he’d be there. Otherwise?

Jason took out the receipt from his last visit to a gas station for cigarettes, grabbed a sharpie from his desk, and began to write.

Yo, Mari.

I’m writing this in 2011. I got your first letter. Thanks. It reminded me of some good times. I’m sorry I didn’t write anything for five years. Stuff happened. I won’t write often. Not until I’m in a better place. But if you need it, you can vent to me too. Also, don’t look at the back of this receipt. This was the only paper I could find.

Jason T., Your Soulmate.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette, nine years old, stared down at the receipt that had taken the place of her letter to herself. She recognized that it was written in English, but she couldn’t read it yet. But that was okay, her Papan and Maman could read English!

She ran down, holding it in her hands tightly. She didn’t want the mystery letter to disappear! She handed it to her parents, who were in the middle of making croissants and stared at her for a moment. And then they broke into a flurry of movement.

“Why do you have a receipt for cigarettes, Marinette?!” Sabine yelled, confused more than angry. How would her daughter get a receipt written in English? And after giving her parents a confused head tilt, Marinette explained.

“It just appeared, like, poof!” She moved her hands to illustrate her point. “I was writing my letter to my future self for school, which is gone now oh no! Mlle. is going to be so mad!”

“Mari, focus,” Tom prodded gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You were writing your letter, and then what?”

Marinette took a deep breath. “Well, I finished it and put it in a little envelope. But as soon as I put it down and was all done, it shimmered red and faded away! This showed up in the same place my letter had been, like they were traded!”

Tom and Sabine shared a glance, and her mom held out her hand. “Can I read it, Marinette? I promise I won’t take it away. Your father and I just want to see what it says. We’ll read it to you.”

Marinette nodded eagerly, and after making sure their dough was put away the family of bakers moved to their living room and the little girl sat on her father’s lap as her mother held the note for them to see and read it aloud.

The parents shared another glance.

“Wow!” Marinette exclaimed happily, bouncing in place. “He sounds so cool! He is my soulmate? Really? I wonder what he looks like!” Her eyes took on a dreamy quality as she began to daydream. “I bet he’s super handsome! And nice and strong and—“

“Mari,” Tom said gently, tugging one pigtail playfully to get his daughter’s attention. She turned her large blue eyes to him, rapt with attentiveness. “I know this is exciting, but you know that not all soulmates are romantic, right?”

Marinette instantly calmed down, eyebrows pinching together. “But— but Nino said that soulmates are people you will marry in the future. Your perfect person. Like you and Maman,” she argued, incredibly confused. Her Maman chuckled, handing Marinette her receipt-letter back.

“Yes, but sometimes a person doesn’t need romance the most. Sometimes, what a person needs most is a friend or another family member. So sometimes, a soulmate is a big sister or brother instead, or another Maman or Papan. And we think that your soulmate might be the big brother kind,” she explained patiently. Marinette’s confusion instantly changed to excitement again, eyes sparkling with starry amazement.

“Really? How can you tell?”

“Well,�� Tom took over, tapping the receipt with one finger. This receipt is from America. Over there, you have to be eighteen to buy cigarettes. Which means that, two years from now, your soulmate is already eighteen.”

“Or he better be, anyway,” Sabine growled, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“But even if he isn’t,” Tom nervously glanced over at his wife and back to his daughter. “The way he writes is too grown up for someone close to your age. He is probably several years older than you—“

“At least seven, if he knows what’s good for him,” Sabine interrupted again. Tom just chuckled and shook his head.

“But still. Are you okay with him not being a romantic soulmate, Nettie?”

Marinette jumped off of her dad’s lap, hugging her note to her chest with one of the biggest smiles either of her parents had ever seen on her face.

“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a big brother! I bet he’s so cool, and rides a motorcycle and beats up bad guys! And when we meet, we’ll go out for ice cream and he’ll ruffle my hair, and let me ride on his shoulders, and it’ll be so awesome!”

Sabine finally lost her threatening aura, laughing along with her daughter. “Well, I don’t know about the whole beating up bad guys thing. But it sounds like he might need some cheering up, so you should write him letters pretty often. You never know when he might need one the most.”

Marinette nodded seriously, eyes shining with determination now. “That’s right! I have to be the best soulmate-sister ever! I’ll start writing him another letter right now!” She instantly turned to run back up to her room, but her dad’s voice followed her:

“Marinette! You haven’t eaten dinner yet!”

—*—*—*—*—*

The next day, Jason came back to his base to see another letter. It was on special scrapbook paper, a pretty white with a heart-and-stars border. He found himself snorting despite himself, shaking his head and picking up the girly letter.

Hello, Jason!

I just got your letter! It’s still 2009, and my parents were worried about the cigarats. I wanted to learn English first, but Maman and Papan reminded me that you have to be able to read French if you were able to read my past letters (I wonder what I wrote you! My future self must be real smart). Maman says you better be 18, or else she’ll kick your butt. She didn’t say that exactly, but I could tell.

Jason snickered at that. She must have a pretty fun family.

Maman and Papan also said that you’re probably a Big Brother soulmate. That’s super cool! I’ve always wanted an older brother, but it’s just me. I get lonely sometimes. And Maman thinks I have a big imagination, so help me prove her wrong! I bet her that you’re suuuuuuper cool, and have a motorcycle and beat up criminals! She doesn’t think my soulmate would be a hero, but I think you are. I don’t even know you yet, but I just feel it. And even if you don’t beat up bad guys, that’s fine. You’ll still protect me like a big brother should, right? And we’ll go and eat ice cream and talk about the stuff we like when we finally meet. And I’ll protect you too. I know little sisters aren’t supposed to, but I will totally protect you anyway. If you’re sad, I’ll make you macaroons and read you a bedtime story. That always makes me happy.

Please write back soon!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past still!)

Jason couldn’t help it, and maybe the Lazarus magic had a bit of sway on him still, but he laughed raucously. A deep, belly-shaking bellow. His soulmate sure was a character! And scarily intuitive. How did she guess such accurate things about him? It was hilarious.

But he wouldn’t write back today. Not yet. He held no illusions; he wasn’t brother material. Not now, and probably not for a while if ever. Which reminded him, he had a replacement to kill.

—*—*—*—*—*

The Replacement lived, but at least Batman had gotten the message. Meanwhile, letters from Little Mari, as he had started calling her in his head, had started piling up. He read every single one, but didn’t respond to any. It was all the usual stuff. Talking about her day, asking stuff about him, spouting advice that seemed way too insightful for a nine-year-old.

He kept every single one. Soon, 2009 letters turned into 2010 letters. She switched from writing almost every day to once a week.

By then, Jason had reconciled with Bruce for the most part. After a few attempts on his life, but that wasn’t important. It was then, as he sat down in the living room watching Tim, Dick, Bruce, and the newest hellion Damian, all talking with and teasing one another that he finally got the urge to write again. So he asked for paper, and Alfred brought him a notepad and a plain ballpoint pen. And, for the first time in over a year, he started writing.

Dick and Bruce noticed first, stopping their banter to stare. Dick smiled softly, his shoulders relaxing as he let himself slump over the sofa’s arm a bit. Tim furrowed his eyebrows, and Damian frowned.

“What are you doing, Todd?” The young hellion asked, but Jason barely heard him.

“Nonya business, squirt,” he replied absently. Bruce chuckled fondly, beckoning to his two youngest sons. They both came a bit closer, and Bruce smiled at them conspiratorially. He leaned forward and whispered:

“Jason’s soulbond allows any letters that he writes to travel through time to his Bonded, and vice versa. Back before… everything, he used to write a letter to her almost every day.”

“It’s really sweet. We lined up the dates, and we think that she’s around your age Damian,” Dick added in equally softly. “Probably a familial bond. It’s good that he’s writing to her again.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette was twelve the next time she got a letter from Jason. But, unlike the last one, this one came from the past. And it was written in French.

Hi, Marinette!

I guess I’m your soulmate. I got your letter from 2018. It’s 2005 when I’m writing this. I’m twelve years old right now, but that shouldn’t matter. It was a little surprising when I got a letter written in French out of nowhere! Luckily, I speak a lot of languages. I love learning languages, and reading is probably my favorite thing to do. Don’t tell anyone though! I have my bad-boy image to keep up. I think our soulbond is really cool actually, and maybe we can teach each other stuff if we do this right. I know the whole time-traveling-letters thing makes it hard to reply to each other like normal. From now on, I’ll write you these letters in English and translate them in French on the back. That way, you can read it whenever you want and also learn English if you don’t already know it when you get this letter.

Oh, and I think I’m older than you? In real time, I mean. If you’re a “new adult” in 2018, then you’re probably a few years younger than me. I was born in 1993. You can do the math, since I don’t know when you were born. Anyway! I’ll keep writing you as often as I can and hope that you get these letters when you need them most.

Jason T., Excited Tween.

Marinette laughed, running down to show her mom. She was only writing Jason once a month now, but in the midst of this first letter she had received in three years, her determination was relit. It was just the letters being dumb when they flew through time! No way he was done writing to her. Right?

“Maman! Maman, he really was eighteen when he wrote that first letter! You don’t have to kill him!”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette stared at the pile of letters on her desk, sighing. She ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to read them yet, but she knew they were each dated from 2005. Apparently they had both decided to write daily when they had first discovered their Bond.

“Marinette,” the familiar voice of Tikki spoke you, the little Kwami floating over to land on her holder’s shoulder. “You should read them. Your bond wouldn’t give you letters you don’t need.”

Marinette took a deep breath, rubbing her already sore and red eyes. “I know. But what if—“

Tikki grabbed the letter at the bottom of the pile, flying over and handing it to the pigtailed girl. She smiled gently. “Read it. No what-ifs. Just read for now, Marinette.”

The newest Ladybug sighed, but acquiesced. She sat down at her desk, and began to read. Only two months as Ladybug, and already the pressure was becoming too much.

Two hours later, she had caught up and her mood was considerably better. Jason’s life was definitely no cake walk, but his humor bled through the more concerning details and helped bring light to Marinette’s day. Slowly, one by one, she folded the letters and put them in her special locked box inside her “diary”. She tried to keep a real diary once, but quickly stopped when she realized that even “dear diary” counted as a letter and sent itself to Jason.

She pulled out one of her special pieces of stationary paper and her favorite pink gel pen. For a while she stared at the paper, out of practice after a few months of not writing to him, but eventually she was able to begin again.

Hey Jason.

It’s 2013. I’m 13. I’m pretty sure you got the point by now, it’s not hard to figure out what year I was born. I haven’t responded to any of your letters in a while, but I guess that doesn’t matter. It’s not like I know if you’re gonna get this right away anyway.

So. Uh. Things have changed. I’m only thirteen, but I feel so old you know? On the bright side, your letters really did help me learn English. I mean, you probably guessed that since I’m writing this whole thing in English.

I guess I should explain. A little. A lot has happened. I suddenly have so many responsibilities, and it’s really hard to keep up with it all. So much has changed in just a few months, I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m keeping secrets from Maman and Papan now, which hurts the most. I can’t tell them, I can’t even tell you, but I’m not used to this. I don’t like lying. I don’t even know why any of this happened in the first place, I want answers and I’m getting radio silence. It sucks. But your letters from 2005 really helped, so thanks. I just got them this past year, which is really weird because I remember that our letters time travel and I feel crazy again. But this is real. Our Bond is real, and maybe writing you will help me remember that. Help me focus a bit.

Anyway, that’s all I can think of right now. I’ll try to write you again sometime this week if I have time. We’ll see.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Unsure Teenager.

—*—*—*—*—*

As soon as Jason finished his letter, pretending he couldn’t feel Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian all spying on him from their own spots around the living room, the papers he wrote on shimmered red and vanished. In their place, a piece of tea-colored scrapbook paper with a decorative robin-and-egg border (he would never know how she could be so obliviously on point with the designs she chose), popped into existence. He blinked, snatching it up and looking it over. His eyes widened.

“It’s only from next year,” he said aloud, for the benefit of the nosy assholes sharing the room with him. “That’s the closest any of our letters have been to one another,” and then Jason’s eyes promptly went serious as she actually read what the paper said.

“Jay?” Dick asked after the man had been silent too long. Jason grunted, his eyes briefly shimmering green before he shook it away. He took a few deep breaths, and finally responded by standing up and handing the paper over to them.

“Something happens next year that fucks with her. All of the letters I’ve gotten from her, besides that first one back when I was still Robin, were from before this. 2009 to 2010. I even got a few from last year, not that long ago. She’s always upbeat and happy and never said anything about any concerning things besides some schoolyard bullying. This isn’t at all like her. The tone is off.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve actually met her yet Jason,” Tim tried to console him, rereading the paper to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “This could be something mundane. A new school, or an issue with friends or something.”

Jason grit his teeth. “It isn’t. I don’t know how I know, but my gut is telling me it’s more than that. B, I want us to keep an eye on Paris. Something big happens next year, I know it.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Funnily enough, I agree with you. Alfred, can you get up a monitoring system? we’ll keep it automatic until next year actually hits, and then I want someone personally checking up on Paris news at least once a month. Just in case.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was a year into HawkMoth. Marinette hadn’t written a single letter to Jason, but she kept getting the ones he wrote in 2005. When those ran out, she only had two from 2006 before they suddenly leapt to 2012. She guessed that that was because of the five year gap he had mentioned in his first letter, the infamous cigarette receipt.

She sat in her chair, reading the only two 2012 letters so far, the second of which had conveniently landed on her desk that morning. The first had arrived months ago, but she gave it a reread anyway.

yo, Mari.

I’m sorry I haven't written anything else after that horrible receipt, I was getting my life sorted out. things are better now. I have three annoying brothers, by the way. I told you about Dick, I think, in my early letters. Now I have two younger brothers too, Tim and Damian. Damian is a little shit, but oddly enough I think you’d like him. Oh yeah, I’m writing this in 2012 by the way. And yes, this small notepad paper was all I had. Don’t judge me. I guess I’ll answer some questions, to make up for my lack of letters lately. More up to date than what I told you back when I was a naive little kid anyway.

Yes, I have a motorcycle. It is my baby, and I have no idea how nine-year-old you was able to guess stuff about me so accurately. I am most definitely a bad boy, and I have five different leather jackets that I love to death. I’m trying to quit smoking. It’s bad for your lungs kid, don’t follow my example there. Also, I am so fucking proud of your taste in music. I know I had no sway in it, but the fact that Jagged Stone is your favorite musician instills so much older brother pride in me you don’t even know. My dad (You remember how I said I’m adopted, right? yeah that asshole. Don’t tell him I actually love him, but he’s still an asshole), he grew up with Jagged actually. He still refers to him as Jared, it’s surreal. I will definitely let you ride on my shoulders, even if you’re an adult when we meet. I give no shits. And ice cream is mandatory. Officially. I’m making it mandatory right now.

I hope you’re doing okay when this gets to you, Mari. And keep designing, the sketches you sent me were awesome! That’s some real talent. Don’t let it go to waste if it’s something you love.

Alright, the Doofuses are still staring at me so I better go before one of them snoops and sees the sappy stuff I wrote about them. You are sworn to secrecy about it too, Cupcake. No blabbing.

Jason Todd, Finally Kinda Okay.

Marinette chuckled at that, then put it aside to read the new one from that morning. It was shorter.

Marinette!

I just read your letter from 2013, holy shit let this reach you not long after that. You remember that 2012 letter where I was sappy about my family and shit? I hope you got that one first or else this is gonna be confusing. Anyway, this was written that same day. Are You Okay? If shit gets too bad, for whatever reason, you can always contact me. I know this damn letter thing won’t let me give you a specific way to contact me, not for lack of trying damn it, but I’ll say this: Bruce Wayne isn’t hard to get a hold of. Find a way to contact him if you need my help, and I will be close behind. He knows how to contact me. No matter what, Cupcake. I don’t care if you think you’re being stupid or dramatic or whatever lies run through your head. Contact him if you need it, and I will come to help you. I promise. Being thirteen sucks, trust me I know, so let me help you.

Jason Todd, Worried As Hell.

Marinette huffed, shaking her head. She wanted to take him up on that offer, but she couldn’t. She had just met the Guardian not too long ago, and he had made it clear that she couldn’t tell anybody about being Ladybug. Not even Jason. She needed to deal with this alone.

Scenes of bloated bodies filled her mind, all the people who had died just the previous day because of Siren. She had had to swim through so many corpses. So many dead, of all ages.

She rushed out onto her balcony, taking in deep breaths of fresh air and letting the sun’s rays warm her up and slowly bring her out of the haze of burning memory. She was fourteen already. She could handle this. Her childhood had died the moment she had been given the Earrings, ripped away from her too early. Her old self had died. Now she was Ladybug, she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she was responsible for the fate of even more than just Paris. She couldn’t let herself fall. Not now, not ever.

The loud roaring of a motorcycle made her jump, and she ran to her railing just in time to see a gorgeous black and red bike come to a tire-screeching halt on the street right under her. The biker, she could tell he was large and covered head to toe in corded muscle even from her spot high above his head, slowly took off his helmet. Black hair with stark white bangs came into view, and startlingly deep blue eyes met hers. Marinette’s breath hitched; it was him. She could tell, his mere eye contact made her feel safe and warm and like… like home had found her. He gave her a roguish grin.

“Come on, Cupcake! I believe I promised you a shoulder ride and ice cream. And you gotta keep me from beating a certain old man into a bloody pulp!”

He knew. Marinette smiled widely, a laugh tearing itself from her throat. Hysteric, overjoyed, free. He knew, and it was okay. She didn’t even have to tell him. She took a few steps back, and then vaulted straight over her railing.

“Catch!”

Jason threw his helmet to the side, running forward just in time for her to land safely in his arms. He glared down at her, but his eyes held no heat. “That was incredibly reckless. I shouldn't be proud, but I am. Don’t do that ever again.”

Marinette giggled. “No promises.”

Jason set her down, picking up his helmet before opening the storage on his bike and tossing her a smaller, pink one. “Sorry it took so long. I wanted to come last year, as soon as I figured out what had made you send that concerning letter, but I was told that I would be an instant Akuma. But after what happened yesterday…” Jason shook his head solemnly. “I knew you’d need a break. Come on, Gotham actually has some amazing ice cream.”

“How are we gonna get to Gotham right away? how did you..?”

Marinette paused, Jason keeping his motorcycle’s storage open just long enough for her to see his Red Hood helmet.

“We got portals for that,” he responded nonchalantly, nobody was nearby to overhear anyway. Marinette looked up when he closed the storage compartment, putting her helmet on.

“Well. Then I’m glad you actually took my rant on the Gotham vigilantes to heart and used my designs, because your old mask was disgustingly ugly.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and waited until she was behind him on the bike before revving it and replying;

“Trust me, I know your feelings on it. Demon Spawn and Replacement teamed up to steal that letter and made copies. Now one is pinned to the fridge and I spent another several hours cleaning up the ones they posted over every inch of my apartment walls.”

“... I approve.”

#ml x dc #maribat #marinette #jasonette #platonic jasonette #mlb x dc #marinette dupain cheng #soulmate au #oneshot #Maribat 2020

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weasleyslag · 3 years

Text

new to this (fred weasley x f! reader)

summary: Reader and Fred skip Potions class to make out, but it turns into more than that. Reader has their first orgasm.

wc: 1599

warning(s): 18+, smut

a/n: Please forgive me for what I have just written lmao, I don't really write smut (I've never written Harry Potter smut before) and I wrote this to be self indulgent but I thought I'd put it up just in case anyone wanted to read it.

You squealed as Fred chased you into the Gryffindor common room. Alone at last. Although, you didn’t want him to think he could keep getting you to skip class to be with him.

“Freddie, if you think you can continue to get me to skip potions with you-”

Fred gently pushed you against the wall. “Yeah, I think I can.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. “And what do you have to say about that, doll?”

“Uh...I…” You sputtered. You were embarrassed by how easily Fred made you breathless. You had been swiftly falling for him and you two weren’t even a couple yet.

“That’s what I thought.” Fred grinned smugly. “Missed you. Wanna kiss you so bad. Can I?”

You nodded immediately after the words left his mouth.

He smiled and cupped your face in his hands. You felt so small in front of him. His lips met yours and fireworks went off in your stomach. Fred’s lips had become even softer than before once you had started convincing him to use Chapstick. He always chose the pink cherry kind, saying it “made him feel pretty”, which you found to be quite cute. It wasn’t long before his tongue was running along your bottom lip. You opened your mouth and let his tongue in. There was no fight for dominance, there was no point. Fred would always win. You felt warmth in your core just from feeling his tongue in your mouth.

“I’ve been waiting on that for a week. So worth it.” He breathed heavily after letting you up for air.

“So basically, you haven’t been able to get any tail for a week.” You laughed.

“Excuse me, if I wanted ‘tail’, I would have it. I just want you.” Fred informed you, slightly offended that you thought he couldn’t find a girl if he wanted to.

“Come on, I know you, Fred Weasley. You’re my best friend.”

“Exactly. Want to be more, though. No one else, just you.” He looked into your eyes, trying to convince you.

“For now” you chuckled. You were trying to keep it lighthearted, but beneath it all, you were scared of getting your hopes up. Girls loved Fred and Fred loved girls. You didn’t exactly expect him to commit to you when he had all these pretty girls fawning over him.

“You don’t know anything.” Fred growled. You were caught off guard by his aggressiveness. It was sexy as Hell and you felt weak at the knees.

“Yeah? Then show me.” You smirked.

Fred took your hand and dragged you over to the nearest chair. He sat down and patted his lap. “Sit.”

You gulped and did what he said.

“Such a good listener for me. Remember when we first kissed at the Burrow a year ago?” He kissed your neck roughly. “You haven’t even kissed anyone else since then, have you?”

You shook your head. You’d kissed Fred many times since then, more than you could count, but never fancied anyone else enough to let them kiss you.

“I like that, darling. Means you’ve always only been mine. And I’d like to keep it that way.” He attached his lips back to yours.

It wasn’t long before, in the midst of your heated make out session, you accidentally rolled your hips. You let out an involuntary moan into Fred’s mouth and immediately felt him harden beneath you.

“Fuckkkk, what was that?” He pulled you off his lips and smirked, awaiting your explanation.

“I don’t know. I was just kissing you and I moved and it felt so good, Freddie.” You looked at him, eyes full of lust.

Fred palmed himself through his pants hearing how innocent you were. You were all for him and he intended on taking very good care of you.

“Have you never gotten off before, pretty girl?”

You buried your head into his chest, embarrassed. You didn’t want to tell him. You knew Fred was by no means inexperienced and you didn’t want him to laugh at you for not being as experienced as him.

“Don’t be like that, it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you and get you off right now, if you’re okay with that.”

You nodded your head, not quite wanting to pull back from your position. Your head was settled right in front of Fred’s heart and you could feel it beat fast. This didn’t last long however, before Fred pulled you back up.

“What do I do?” You asked him.

“I’m gonna bounce my thigh for you, you just moved that sweet cunt of yours back and forth as much as you like. If you like it, you can grind down on me. Like this-” he demonstrated, putting his hands on your hips and grinding you down on him.

“Mmm feels so good.” You moaned.

“I’m glad, sweetheart. That’s all I want to do.”

Your hands made their way into his hair, tugging a little when your pleasure seemed to become a little to much. Fred smiled at the scene. You were a beautiful mess.

“I want you to be mine. Forever. Such a pretty girl.” He said as he leaned back, watching the view.

“You’re just saying that.” You struggled to say between moans.

Fred abruptly stopped moving his thigh, causing you to whine. He felt for your clit through your underwear and slapped it gently (he would have been much harder, but you two had not discussed what you were and weren’t into yet).

“Good girls don’t lie or challenge their superiors.” He growled into your ear.

You took his hand and kept it in place on top of your underwear.

“I’ll be a good, promise. Just touch me here again, please.” You pleaded.

Fred thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “Don't think so, pretty girl. Need to take care of you like I’ve been doing first.” You crossed your arms and scowled at him. If he really wanted to take care of you, he’d be doing what you wanted him to.

“God, you’re a proper brat, you know that? I should leave you here, all desperate and dripping.”

Your eyes grew wide. “No, you wouldn’t do that.”

Fred smiled wickedly. “Oh yes I would. I’m only not doing that today because it’s your first time. But trust me,” Fred paused for a moment, making you squirm, “Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I just-”

Fred clamped his hand over your mouth. “Nope, stop right there. That was perfect.” Fred started slowly moving his thigh again and you moaned into his hand. You wouldn’t tell Fred this because he’d get all cocky, but you were glad that he got you to skip class today. If you had met him in the boys’ bedroom in the middle of the night like you usually did, you would have woken everyone up. You couldn’t help being loud, the sensation of fabric rubbing against your clit at such a high and methodical rate was completely new to you.

“This is better. Moaning for me without all the bitchiness. Now princess, you know it’s not that I don’t want you. I just want to wait until we go home for the holidays to let everyone know that you’re mine, officially and all. And then, when I’ve done right by you, you best believe I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. Okay?”

You nodded your head swiftly. You still couldn’t quite believe what he was saying, you didn’t want to get hurt by empty promises, but the more he said it, the more you believed him.

Fred didn’t keep his hand over your mouth for much longer before he noticed your moans were getting louder and more shrill. But the clear indicator that you were about to reach your peak was your eyes, which kept rolling into the back of your head every time you ground down on him.

“You close darling? Are you about to make a mess in those cute panties?” Fred whispered in your ear.

You groaned and nodded fervently.

Fred removed his hand from your mouth and grabbed your hips. He leaned in to kiss you again, but before his lips met yours once again he reassured you, “It’s okay, you can let go, I’ve got you.” And with that, his lips crashed with yours once again.

It wasn't long, maybe 15 seconds, before you fell apart, his name loudly tumbling out of your mouth.

“That’s my girl.” Fred smiled. He held you for a moment or two before saying anything else. You, having all the energy knocked out you, couldn’t will yourself to speak and instead just laid against Fred’s chest panting.

“Trust me, this was only one of the many firsts you’re gonna experience with me.” Fred kissed your forehead. “Only if you want, of course.” He added.

“Oh I definitely want to.” You intertwined your hand with his, smiling at how big his hand was compared to yours. You felt so safe being so close in proximity to him.

“Good, good. You know I’d like for us to stay like this forever, darling, but I know Snape would like the star Gryffindor pupil back in his class and I have something to take care of” he indicated to his bulge in his pants.

“You sure you don’t want me to help with that?” You offered.

“You know I want to. But go to class.” Fred kissed you one last time and swatted your ass before sending you back to class, lips swollen and hair disheveled.

#fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #smut #hp smut #harry potter #harry #harry potter fic

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peterprkrsbtch · 3 years

Text

sapphire - part 2

Peter Parker x reader

A/n: Part 1 is up on my page! There’s a couple flashbacks in this one so I put the dates before so it doesn’t get confusing. If you enjoy this one, like or reblog to share! I already wrote part 3 and it’s my favorite one yet so that’ll def be up soon :)

tag- @juliannaamonroe

Warnings: swearing, make out, violence

(September 1)

We’re one minute away. Come out hoe!

You smile as you read the text, glancing at yourself in the mirror again, nerves and excitement ablaze in your stomach. You’d been planning for this day since last winter, and now it was finally here. You adjust your carefully styled hair and double check that the natural makeup you applied was sitting on your skin correctly.

Of course it was. That goddamn injection sometimes made you feel like a vampire out of twilight and sometimes you still got surprised when you saw your own face while passing a mirror or a particularly reflective window. You smooth down the ruffles of your short black skirt and tug the top of your tank top down so a bit more of your curves show.

You put on your white sneakers and tug your shirt back up to cover your chest again. We’ll have to work up to that, I guess. A long honk sounds from outside your apartment building and you curse as you scramble to grab your backpack and phone before running down and out the front steps.

“Awwww,” You say sweetly at the sight of the two girls who had become your best friends. “That’s the shirt you were wearing when we met, Ally.” You jokingly brush away a tear, pretending to be ultra touched.

“Best damn day of my life.” Ally says from her spot in the drivers seat, laughing at your dramatics. She may be joking around, but her sentiment makes your heart clench. This year really was going to be different.

***

(July 3)

You quickly realized you needed to find some Midtown friends if your plan for senior year was going to work. If you dared to show up looking, well, like you do, completely alone and friendless, you might become even more of an outcast than you were before. The first month of summer had been the least lonely time of your year so far, thanks to a certain Spiderman.

The two of you spent most of your nights together, flying through the city, fighting crime together, and talking. The “slow” nights that used to fill you with boredom quickly became your favorite when he was involved. The sound of his laugh and the jokes he makes during fights quickly became the highlight of your days.

But you couldn’t let yourself get too distracted by him. After all, neither of you knew what the other looked like. The only other boy you’d ever found remotely cute (other than celebrities) was nerdy Peter Parker from your high school. He wasn’t your usual type and he seemed to be just as shy as you were, so you had little (zero) hope that it would ever lead to anything more than a smile during the hallway if you accidentally made eye contact.

Sorry Spiderman, but no way in hell are you gonna make me lose my focus. The loneliness you had felt through the last three years of high school was too much. Your plan had to work. So that night as the two of you patrolled together, you softly mentioned that you were going to a pool party tomorrow and wouldn’t be able to meet.

He seemed a bit disappointed, but you brushed it off, trying to remember the names of the girls at your school who seemed nice. Peter, however, couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that you had told him where you would be tomorrow. There was only so many pool parties in a city like New York.

You tried not to think about who was under the Spiderman mask out of respect and, to be honest, it seemed like a pointless endeavor. Peter was not the same. No matter how tired he was from patrol, he always had time to lay awake before he fell asleep and picture what you would look like under the mask.

There wasn’t very many people who understood Peter’s secret life. None, actually, until you. Maybe that was why he was so intrigued by you, because you were so similar, but in his heart he knew that wasn’t it. He liked you. And he hated himself for it. But once you mentioned the pool party, he made sure to take one long last glance at the color of your hair before you two said goodbye. Just in case he happened to see that same hair tomorrow.

(July 4)

You were so, so nervous. Your closet of exclusively sweats and hoodies was trashed as Part 1 of your plan, much to your mother’s happiness. She had always been honest about her hatred of your junior year clothes and was extremely excited to purchase everything you needed. As distant as she was, you had to give her a little credit.

Although you’d been wearing the new clothes for the past month, this was the first time you were doing it so publicly. Your denim shorts exposed miles of smooth leg, and you’d decided to wear a red tube top in honor of the holiday-not to mention it really showed off your curves. You’d meticulously done your hair and makeup like you’d been practicing the past month and prayed that somebody would talk to you today.

You’d seen the flyer for the Fourth of July party on Instagram, which had been step 2. Unfortunately, you had two followers. Your mom and her boyfriend. Step 2 is a work in progress.

One long walk later, and you’re in front of the address. You swear you could explode of nerves right there, but instead you take a deep breath and force your legs to carry you inside the house and towards the people out by the pool.

Your eyes are so focused on your destination, the glass sliding door, that you barely notice when you bump shoulders with someone, causing you to drop your phone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You say, reaching down to grab your phone.

“Oh my god, stop. That was totally my fault.” You stand back up to see the girl who was speaking, and you recognize her immediately. Her name is Ally, and she’s a part of the most popular group at school. Despite her long black hair and sweet smile, you haven’t heard many good things about her. Not the type of person you were looking for.

“Do you go to Midtown? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Ally says, making no move to walk away from the conversation.

“Yeah, actually. My name is Y/n?” You don’t miss the way her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen with confusion and shock. You’re embarrassed now, realizing maybe you weren’t as invisible as you’d thought. In an effort to explain away the last few years, “My dad left a couple years ago and it was pretty hard on me, but I’m all better now.” You flash the most dazzling smile you can manage and hope she accepts it.

“No way, mine did too!” She gasps as she grabs your hands. You feel a small pang of guilt at that. It was a lie, you had no idea who your dad was and frankly, you didn’t think your mom knew either.

The conversation starts to flow between you and Ally easily as you make your way out to the pool. “This is my best friend Betty.” Ally introduces you to the sweet-as-pie girl and the three of you quickly fall into a conversation like you’d known each other forever. A few of their guy friends tried to come up and talk to you, but she just waved them away. “Leave us alone, we just met our new best friend.”

You felt bad for judging Ally so harshly earlier, blindly trusting the stupid rumors you’d heard about her. Popular or not, the three of you got along better than any of the other friends you’d tried to make throughout your life. They do briefly make fun of your instagram before forcing you to take and post pictures with the two of them by the pool. They both tag your account.

Peter didn’t seem to share the good luck you did. He’d dragged Ned to 6 different pool parties across the city and saw no one who looked like Sapphire. Disappointed, he spent the night patrolling alone and dodging fireworks.

***

(September 1)

Since that day, you’d become a trio with Ally and Betty. The day after the pool party you’d woken up to nearly 1,000 followers on your instagram. Everyone from Midtown who never gave you a second look when you had your hood shoved over your head now wanted to be your friend.

The three of you spent the rest of your summer days together, and you fit into the popular friend group better than you could have imagined. Maybe you watched too many teen movies, but you expected them to be mean. The only mean one was Flash, and even he was basically harmless. You’d given up Saturday night patrols with Spiderman for a weekly girls night with your new best friends. You thought having new friends and a bustling social life would’ve made it easier to forget about Spiderman, but somehow he seeped into every area of your life.

That damn laugh. As Ally and Betty sing along to the radio loudly, you bite your lip to stop a dumb smile from rising to your lips. God, just thinking about him made you flustered. As Ally drives into the school parking lot, nerves bubble in your stomach.

As if you aren’t stressed enough, your brain decides this is the perfect moment to remind you of the one night this summer you and Spiderman haven’t talked about since.

*** (August 14)

The two of you were sprawled out on a gravel rooftop next to each other. Not the most comfortable of relaxing spots, but you’d both grown tired of flying around under the summer heat with no hint of trouble for miles.

“This sucks.” Spiderman huffs out.

“Rude.” You reply quickly, even though you know he isn’t talking about you.

“Oh, no,” He immediately sits up. “I didn’t mean you suck, I just meant, you know, because there’s not much going on right now and it’s hot and-” He sees your cheeky smile and stops himself with a laugh. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s cute.” You bite your lip. The fuck did I just say? Before you can begin to explain, he jumps to his feet.

“Spidey sense, let’s go!” You jump up too and follow after him as he jumps off the building. Thank god. I’ve never been so grateful that someone’s in trouble. The fight was tough, even with the both of you. These men had strange guns that keep firing at you and Spiderman even though you’d tried multiple times to crush them with your powers.

“The guns are magic-proof! I can’t destroy them!” You yell over to Spiderman as you take down one of the men in between punches.

Somehow, two men get ahold of their guns and corner you. Just as you start levitating to fly over them, a web shoots from somewhere behind them and the men and their guns are yanked away. Spiderman wastes no time and you swear he seems angry with the two men as he webs them to the wall next to their friends before picking up the guns and violently smashing them on the ground.

You’re still frozen in shock, watching him. When he seems to be satisfied with the broken pile of guns on the floor, he runs back over to you. “I’m so sorry, I know we promised-” You finally break out of whatever trance you were in to place a finger over his lips, casting a disgusted glance towards the men staring at you from their webbed cocoons.

“Not here.” You say quietly, and fly the two of you quickly up to the roof. He blinks for a second, his head spinning from the speed. You rarely use your full speed, especially with him, but you had to get out of there. “Okay, go ahead.” You say after a second of silence.

“I’m so sorry, I know we agreed not to get in each other’s way, and I know you can handle yourself, probably better than I can. Hold on, I didn’t mean I handle you. That sounded weird. Anyways, I just got so angry when I saw those men pointing their guns at you I had to-” He’s talking about the agreement you two had made when you first started working together. You both obviously were skilled, so you agreed that you wouldn’t interrupt each other’s fights unless asked.

“Spidey, I really don’t care you interrupted. It was hot.” JESUS CHRIST NOT AGAIN. You immediately winced and slap a hand over your mouth. “Oh my god I did NOT mean to say that I’m so sorry.”

Your rambling is cut off as Spiderman’s hand travels up to the bottom of his mask and you think your eyes might fall out of your head with how wide they become as he begins to pull it up, revealing the soft pale skin of his neck.

His jaw, chin, and then lips become visible as he lets the mask rest on his nose. The 0.5 seconds that have passed since you stopped talking feel like an eternity until he suddenly leans forward, crashing his lips into yours. Spiderman is an amazing kisser, you decide, as you gently kiss him back.

WHAT AM I DOING? Your mind is going haywire but instead of stopping, you deepen the kiss and nearly smile when he lets out a low moan. Everything you’ve told yourself about focus and distractions flies out the window when his gloved hands clutch your waist and pull you closer to him than you thought possible.

It feels like it’s only been a second when he pulls away, but your eyes flicker to his swollen lips and you know it must have been longer. You smile as you stare at his lips, only inches from yours, but as your gaze moves to the rest of his exposed skin the smile drops slowly.

Your rational mind comes back. It’s easy to forget when you’re with him that you’ve only known each other a couple months. How could you do this? Your first time making out with a boy, and he doesn’t even know your name.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whisper as he starts to say something. “Sorry, what were you going to say?” He blinks slowly and takes a deep breath before stepping away from you.

“Nevermind. See you tomorrow.” And he swings away from you. You silently curse yourself for being such a big mouth, wanting to know what he would have said. You can’t help the small voice in the back of your head, telling you that you made the wrong decision.

You raise your hand to run your fingers along your tingling lips before flying home as fast as you can.

***

(September 1)

You wince at the painful memory before reminding yourself everything was back to normal the next day and neither of you mentioned it again. You still weren’t sure if that was good or bad. You force all thoughts of Spiderman out of your brain and even give Ally an encouraging cheer when she successfully parks on her first try.

You don’t remember Midtown having so many fucking students last year, but maybe it was because they were all staring at you. Any confidence you’d had as you opened Ally’s car door had disappeared as everyone around you turned to gawk. The bright smile you’d pasted on a second ago quickly fell and you glanced at Ally nervously.

“Come on, girls!” She says enthusiastically, grabbing an arm from you and Betty as she breaks the brief moment of awkward silence. God bless you Ally. As the three of you hoist your bags over your shoulders and make your way into the school, you mouth a quick thank you her way, hoping she can see your genuine appreciation. She smiles at you. “I’m happy we’re going into this year as three instead of two.”

Betty leans forward to smile at you. “Me too, y/n. I’m really happy you’re here.” You smile back brightly. There really was no one as sweet as Betty.

“You won’t be so happy I’m here when I talk your ear off during class.” The three of you continue laughing and joking your way down the hall to stop at your lockers.

“Oh my god, is that Y/n?” Ned interrupts Peter’s latest ramble about his night with Sapphire. Usually, he really did listen. Ned was fully invested in the superhero love story, as he called it, unfolding. But the sight of a girl notorious for hiding in her own baggy clothes across the hall in a miniskirt and tank top was more important.

“Y/n?” Peter asks, confused why Ned wasn’t paying attention. But when he turned around to see what Ned was staring at, he understood. He’d seen you around school the past three years, but never like this.

You looked like a fucking model. And everyone in the hall couldn’t help but stare. “Holy shit.”

“Right, dude?” Ned breathes out, the two of them shamelessly staring. “Why didn’t that happen to me over summer? Oh my god, of course she’s friends with Betty.”

Peter laughs as his best friend goes on about “two pretty best friends” but he can’t take his eyes off of you. The light in your eyes as you joke with your friends, making them double over in laughter, feels strangely familiar. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on his part because you’re extremely pretty.

He watches in surprise as you and Ally walk up to the AP Chem classroom, waving goodbye to Betty sadly as she heads off to English. You turn to walk into the classroom after Ally, but you pause and look back down the hallway-right at him. Instead of yelling at him for being a creep like he expected, you smile at him widely before heading into the class. He exhales deeply and glances down at his schedule quickly, a smile appearing. AP Chem.

Of course his thoughts are still consumed by Sapphire, but it was hard to ignore you especially after seeing his name on the seating chart next to yours in the back row. Plus, Sapphire was the one who’d shot him down after he finally tried to make a move after catching onto the hints he thought she’d been dropping.

He felt bad for thinking that about her, he didn’t blame her at all. He knew there was a million reasons they shouldn’t be together-and he didn’t want to know specifics on why he wasn’t good enough. Sapphire hadn’t brought up that night since, and he was fine to pretend it never happened.

You were already in your seat at the lab table, but Ally was still standing next to you waving her hands wildly as you two spoke. He doesn’t want to interrupt so he freezes in place, unsure of whether or not to go sit down. He’d thought you were cute, and a little shy like him in freshman and sophomore year and he remembered the many times he would look at you from across the room like he is now.

His eyes had been quick to find you whenever you two were in the same room ever since the first day of school freshman year when you smiled at him in the hall. Even last year, when all he saw of you was a curled up lump at your desk or a sliver of hair peeking out from behind your hood he still noticed you.

Luckily for him, the bell rings and he slides into his seat just as the teacher begins speaking. “Hi, Peter.” You lean over to him, your shoulders nearly touching, and whisper so the teacher doesn’t hear. “I’m y/n.” You smile warmly as his cheeks and ears turn light pink.

“You don’t have to introduce yourself. We’ve gone to school together since we were 6?” Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed and you purse your lips together.

“No, I know, just-” Peter notices you seem a bit frustrated as you glance around the room and then lean even closer to him. “Everybody thinks I’m new.” You nervously mess with your bracelet.

“You do look a bit different.” He points out and you raise your eyebrows before sighing slowly and shrugging.

“I was just sick of feeling invisible, you know. Not because I care what anyone here thinks. Last year was just, really, really lonely.” Peter watches you intently as you speak, hanging onto your every word.

Your confession made him sad. If only he’d been brave enough to ask if you were okay. You pause for a second and meet his eyes. Any other guy in this school would’ve laughed at you by now. You gesture to your outfit and nervously adjust your skirt. “I’m also not a superficial person. It wasn’t about changing how I looked, I just needed the confidence to put myself out there.” You pause and nod towards Ally with a smile. Peter glances over to Ally and sees her blow you a kiss, which you catch across the room with a giggle.

I miss you! She mouths with a dramatic frown and this time Peter laughs quietly with you. “I thought she was a bitch before I met her.” He looks at you with surprise to find you smiling at him. “But,” you hold up a finger for dramatic effect, “because I put myself out there, I met my best friends. A lot of people around here judge on appearances. I’m not like that anymore.” You say with confidence.

“That’s really cool of you.” Peter whispers back, and the sound sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. He’s so close to you and the feelings you thought you left behind two years ago don’t seem so left behind as you stare into his warm eyes. “For the record, I’d be your friend no matter what you look like.”

Peter has only been this nervous a couple times before in his life, and he can’t help but feel like he’s betraying Sapphire with the way he’s thinking about you. He watches as you smile warmly at his words and extend your hand towards his.

“Friends? Even though I'm so much uglier now?” You pout your bottom lip out, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He nearly laughs out loud and has to remind himself you’re still in class. “I know guys go wild for the homeless man sweatpants look.” You’re both trying to hold back your laughter, shaking silently in the back of the class as he raises his hand and grabs yours.

“Friends.” Peter isn’t sure why he keeps going, but he does. “And just so you know, you were never ugly. I don’t know why you tried so hard to hide yourself last year, but even then,” the words leaving his mouth sound confident but Peter takes a deep breath before looking up from his lap to meet your eyes. Your wide eyes and surprised smile give him just the confidence he needs to finish. “You could never be ugly.” Peter can hear his heart beating.

You blink at him. This boy could not be real. Here he was, basically implying that the one thing you had wanted all along, for somebody to notice you, was true. Not only was it true, but it was Peter fucking Parker telling you this. Despite everything that had changed you in the past year, the giddy feeling in your bones brought you back to sophomore year and pining over Peter.

“Really?” Your smile spreads and he seems to let out a deep breath of relief.

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you until your sweet moment is interrupted by a fat ass syllabus dropping onto the lab table in front of you.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “This class is gonna be so much homework.” You turn the page so Peter can briefly see the list of projects alone, and it’s enough to make him cringe.

Something about the way the whispers travel back and forth between you all class makes you realize you hadn’t fallen into a friendship this easily, even with Ally. Even with Spiderman, your brain points out.

A red and blue suit swings into your mind and you are hit with a wave of guilt. Not two hours ago I was thinking about my make out with Spiderman, and now I’m comparing him to Peter?

You have all but one class together, and you can’t help but glance in Peter’s direction any chance you get. The only time you don’t see him is at lunch, even though you look all around the lunch room for him or the boy he’d been standing with this morning. You thought it would be too creepy to ask him where he’d been.

Finally, the last bell of the day rang, and you were sure if you didn’t have superpowers you would’ve been exhausted. School is kinda draining when you actually acknowledge people. Ally and Betty share your complaints about being tired on your drive home, all three of you agreeing you need naps. You kiss them both on the cheek and wave goodbye before heading up to your room.

Forget what I said about having superpowers. I’m fucking tired. You lay down on your bed, groaning into the pillow at the thought of having to patrol tonight. You sat up abruptly. You’d never dreaded patrol, it was always the thing you looked forward to. You glance towards the suit in your closet and sigh.

It’s not patrol I’m nervous about. It’s him. You feel incredibly guilty about today. I’m not a two timer. If I want to like Peter, I have to talk to Spiderman about that kiss first. You start to make your way over to the closet before another wave of exhaustion hits, sending you straight back to your bed.

After a nap. Then we’ll talk.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #avengers #marvel #spiderman #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut

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graceslavenderhaze · 4 years

Text

just wanna be with you; reggie x reader

“are you okay?” that was the first question julie had asked you when she saw you the morning after you both had learned that the boys were planning on crossing over before the jolts that caleb had placed on them destroyed them.

“ i feel like i should be asking you that.” you said bluntly as you let your best friend into your house which was empty other than you at the moment. you both trailed into your kitchen. ripped pages of your journal laid in crumpled balls, a mug of hot chocolate which was half drank was next to your song journal. you wrote your best songs when you were emotional and last night was definitely emotional.

you picked up your mug and went to refill it as well as make one for julie. she sat herself down at the table, her wondering eyes drawn to the journal. she knew a love song when she saw one.

“did you write this?” julie asked pointing at the song labeled ‘just wanna be with you’. you placed both of your mugs back on the table and sat down. you bit your bottom lip as you took a deep breath.

“yeah, i wrote it about or i guess for reggie.” you blurted out to your best friend. she placed her hand onto your outstretched one, comforting you. you felt all of your emotions crash down onto you like a tidal wave.

“i’ve never felt this way about anyone ever not even carrie, i’ve never been so- i’ve never written a song about someone i like. ever! and then he just comes out of nowhere the afterlife and everything and for the first time since carrie broke up with me, i felt. i can’t even compare it to carrie but he makes me feel like there’s nothing we can’t do if we’re together, and no matter what happens i know he’ll be there. i just wanna be with him, jules.” your voice was raw as a few loose tears escaped your eyes.

“that’s love, if i know anything from how my parents looked at each other and every stupid rom com that we’ve watched with flynn. you’re in love with him.” julie said to you as she wiped the tears off of your cheeks. you let what she said sink in, love. you were in love with reggie.

“fuck flynn’s never gonna let me live this down!” you joked to your best friend. she broke a smile. she stood up and held her hand out for you. you gave her a confused look. she pulled you up from your seat.

“you’re getting dressed, meeting up with reggie before we play the orpheum and giving him this song. life is too short for you to just sit back and not tell people how you feel about them. you have to live in the moment, and even if you lose him. you’ll always have the memories.” handing you the journal that laid on the table, you both rushed upstairs to your bedroom not before you muttered “i hate how you’re always right.”

it had been at least an hour since you got ready. julie had picked out a cute outfit consisting of your favorite pieces of clothing that you owned, insisting that flynn says that the more comfortable you are in your skin, the more comfortable you’ll be laying your heart out. you also had your backpack slung over your shoulder with your clothes for later tonight when the band plays the orpheum and then, clothes for a sleepover with julie later on. neither of you wanted to be alone after the guys crossed over.

“stop worrying you look fantastic.” julie said to you. you found it ironic. your best friend was playing one of the most iconic clubs in all of Los Angeles tonight and here she was calming you down over telling reggie how you feel. you played with the bracelets on your wrists, more specifically the red and black one that had a small bass charm in the middle. julie smirked when she noticed the small charm but opted not to say anything.

“i’m gonna go pick out my outfit for tonight, and i’ll rangle dumb and dumber out so you can be alone with reggie. you got this!” julie said to you before walking into the studio to say some half true lie to get alex and luke out so you could be alone with reggie. after standing alone for five minutes and convincing yourself while it seemed convenient, running from your issues wouldn’t solve anything.

“hey.” you mentally face palmed. hey thats the best you had? reggie looked up from the grand piano he had been fiddling with the keys of. a smile came across his face when he saw you. his smile was one of your favorites.

“hey, shouldn’t you be helping julie?” he asked confused being as mere minutes ago julie had brought luke and alex up to her room to help wrap last minute details up for the orpheum show. you placed your backpack down and fished out your journal. your heart was beating in your chest like thunder, as if it was going to just combust out.

“yeah, but first i wanted to show you this song that i wrote.” you stumbled on your words a little and after getting the sentence out your mouth had never felt drier. reggie looked bewildered, normally you shared your songs with julie and flynn. this was the first time you’d ever wanted to show him a song of yours and also the last.

“i thought that’s something that you and julie do with flynn?” you approached the grand piano and sat next to him. it was now or never at this point. you pushed the knowing that by tonight after they opened, him and the guys would be gone.

“yeah but it’s something special that i think would just be better if you were the one to hear it. is that okay?” your voice was soft and you’d never been this close to reggie before. the past few days you’d been avoiding being alone with him to see if you could try to resolve your crush on your own. it was impossible.

“yeah, no totally, that’s rad.” he said nervously starting to fiddle with his rings. you let out a soft laugh. you opened the page that the song was on and placed your hands on the keys.

“ I got a lot of things I have to do All these distractions Our futures coming soon We're being pulled a hundred different directions But whatever happens I know I've got you

You're on my mind you're in my heart It doesn't matter where we are It'll be alright Even if we're miles apart

All I wanna do, is be with you, be with you There's nothing we can do just wanna be with you Only you No matter where life takes us nothing can break us apart You know its true I just wanna be with you

You know how life can be It changes over night It's sunny then raining, but it's alright A friend like you Always makes it easy I know that your kidding me every time

Through every up through every down You know I'll always be around Through anything you can count on me

All I wanna do, is be with you, be with you There's nothing we can do just wanna be with you Only you No matter where life takes us nothing can break us apart You know it's true I just wanna be with you

I just wanna be with you”

you felt a weight life off your shoulders when you finished and you wondered why you’d been so nervous, then you remembered that reggie was still sitting next to your and your nerves came swinging right back. you turned to him and for once staring into his eyes didn’t comfort you, it scared you.

“i know that after tonight you’re gone but i’d be an idiot if i didn’t tell you how i felt before you left. i’ve never wrote a song for anyone i’ve lov-like liked.” the words tumbled out of your mouth uncontrollable. reggie smiled. he wanted to kiss you and in that moment he regretted everything. had they focused on the band instead of being so hellbent on getting revenge against bobby, then they wouldn’t have gotten stamped and wouldn’t be crossing over at all.

“you have no idea how much i want to kiss you. ” he said softly. you smiled, you wanted to kiss him so badly.

“i’m gonna miss you, so much.” you admitted. you knew he couldn’t stay but you wanted him to.

“you are unlike any girl i’ve ever met or have like liked either, y/n y/l/n. i wish we had more time.” he said coming closer to you. your eyes closed for a moment and you forgot just what was happening. he wouldn’t be able to kiss you. you’d go straight through him.

“we can’t, i want to but you know we can’t.” your words were soft and quiet but loud enough to break both of your hearts. you both wanted this so badly but the universe wouldn’t allow it. you merely coexisted together, you were still from two seperate worlds.

“your favorite flowers are forget me nots right?” he asked you after the two of you had pulled away. you nodded and almost as a reflex played with the bracelet on your wrist with a forget me not charm. he removed his necklace from around his neck, with the blue beads and silver bar at the middle. the entire time you’d known reggie he’d never been seen without it.

“then consider this a forget me not.” he then took the necklace and placed it around your neck. you removed the red and black bracelet with the bass charm. you placed it around his wrist.

“only if you consider this a forget me not as well.” “ forever.” your phone beeped interrupting the moment.

julie: i love you but i’m going to find a way to rekill these himbos soon.

“i should go actually help julie now. i really don’t wanna say goodbye.” this was probably the last moment you had with reggie and you never wanted it to end.

“so don’t say goodbye just say i’ll see you around.” he said jokingly. you nodded as a few tears made their way out of your eyes. you stood up from the grand piano grabbing your journal, you walked over to your backpack and turned around, your fingers fiddling with your forget me not token.

“see you around guitar cutie.” you said before walking out of the studio.

“not if i see you first!” he yelled back. you smiled and continued to walked up to julie’s room. closing the door and then sliding down against it once you’d entered.

“i fell in love with a ghost. full teasing rights once my heart heals, let flynn know.” you stated as you slumped on the floor in a slightly love struck daze.

“no shit!”

“is this suppose to be new news?”

“shut up shes in loveeee.”

“yeah and i’ve come to take your spot as julie’s fashion stylists.” you joked as you got up. alex and luke poofed out after a few more side comments. julie smirked.

“nice necklace you got there.” she winked before the two of you got to work.

flashing forward to two hours later, flynn and you stood on the side wings of the stage clutching onto each other, both of you dressed in your concert outfits . julie, alone center stage with only her keyboard, microphone and a dahlia with her. you were all on edge, the guys wouldn’t bail again. there’s no way. so there was only one other explanation. the jolts destroyed them before they got to crossover.

as julie started playing stand tall, the song you had heard so many times from sitting in on the practices, you thought you were imagining hearing alex’s drums until you and flynn both saw him with your own eyes.

“holy shit.” then reggie appeared next to julie, causing you and flynn to jump with excitement. they were still here, they were going to crossover. you noticed how the charm from the bracelet reggie was still wearing had twinkled under stage lights and him looking back up and you and winking.

“it’s your lover boy!” flynn teased. you couldn’t deny it because at this moment you were to happy to even bother.

“c’mon luke.” you had started to muttered noticing that he was flickering onstage causing both of the present phantoms to give you a worried glance. after a few tries he managed to stay solid onstage.

“yes!” you and flynn both cheered on the sidelines. dancing and singing to the song that you knew would be stuck in your head by tomorrow. you were all happy in this moment.

when the song ended reggie looked back at you and mouthed very clear words. “i love you.” before you could say it back the boys disappeared. you placed the silver bar of the necklace to your lips and kissed it muttered “i love you too” before. joining flynn in cheering for julie. everything was over, but you left nothing unsaid.

“so y/n, spill the details about your out of this world love affair.” julie joked as the three of you were in the dressing room changing into your street outfits. you laughed. folding the clothes you wore and putting them back into your backpack before looking in the mirror to check over last time.

“wait is that reggie’s?” flynn asked pointing at the necklace you wore all night. you blushed slightly. then julie noticed the missing red and black bracelet.

“yeah it’s a forget me not. something to remember him by. i’ll explain it all tomorrow i’m still processing it honestly.” you said turning around to her. flynn hugged you. you were happy you had your friends.

“i’m gonna go make us popcorn and pick a movie.” you said once julie and you had gotten back to her house for the night. you knew she wanted a moment alone in the garage to thank her mom for bringing the guys to her and music back into her life.

once you had the popcorn in julie’s bed and were picking out a movie on her laptop she texted you a 911, code red, and a bunch of other phrases for her saying you needed to get into the garage asap.

“hey jules what do half of these codes even mean?” you asked as you walked into the garage. “what the fuck, you guys crossed over. you shouldn’t be here.” you said when you saw your favorite ghosts standing in a group hug with julie. they looked like they were dying twice all over.

“come here!” julie said grabbing you and pulling you into the hug. the guys all started to glow a golden color and the stamps caleb had put on them dissolved.

“what do you think that means?” julie asked. you shrugged, up until like a month ago you didn’t even think ghosts actually existed.

“i think it means the bands back.” luke said causing the group hug to jump up and down in a fit of happiness over playing the orpheum. once the group hug broke up, you launched yourself forwards towards reggie.

“i love you too.” he smiled.

“kiss her!” julie coughed trying to be subtle. luke and alex both nodded encouraging their friend.

“yeah kiss me guitar cutie.” you said with confidence causing him to do so. you could hear the hollers of your best friends in the background losing their minds which made the moment better for you.

“so what do i tell flynn?” julie asked once you pulled away for air.

“we’ll tell her tomorrow, she’s probably still reeling from tonight.” you said. julie nodded then had another outburst excitement over the fact that they just played the orpheum.

reggie picked you up and swung you around before kissing you again. “i don’t know what’s better playing the orpheum or kissing you.” he said.

“also which one of you is responsible for carlos knowing?” julie asked in the middle of the moment. the guys faces all became panicked.

“busted!” you said holding a hand for your best friend to high five.

this is the first thing i’ve ever wrote to post publicly and idk if i like it or not but just wanna be with you lives in my head rent free so i saw my opportunity and i took it honestly. let me know if you guys like this those maybe i’ll start posting again. <3

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms x reader #jatp imagine #jatp x reader #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #reggie peters imagine #reggie peters x reader #grace writes

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unchartedthelostlegacy · 3 years

Text

Chlodineweek Day 3: Reunion

It was good that Windows XP somehow didn’t notice that she had already failed at entering the correct password five times.

Chloe gritted her teeth and glared back down at the keys, and began to peck at them one at a time like they were the platforms she’d jumped across in the axe fortress.

Tommyiscute2003.

Wrong.

TommyIhateyou03.

Wrong.

“How important is this?” Nadine called from Chloe’s childhood bed. She was flipping through an ancient Shonen Jump.

“Oh, don’t even start.”

“Why can’t you access it on your phone?”

Chloe touched her lips. “I think I wrote it...in my diary.”

“Frazer, let’s look at the Neopets on your phone and be done with it. You know they’re all dead anyway.”

Her casual tone made Chloe bristle all over again. She didn’t even remember what had started the argument. It had to have been something about Nathan Drake. Their entire trip back home to Chloe’s mum’s house in Australia’s capital had been peppered with back-and-forth character assassination focused on which of them had neglected and starved her Neopets more.

“You’re going to be dead before my Neopets are,” Chloe retorted, pushing back her hair, and noticing Nadine had slid off the twin bed and was rooting around in the drawers. “Excuse me, I didn’t give you permission to--”

“Find this?” Nadine tossed a book at her.

Chloe recognized it the moment it hit her hands. A pink-and-blue diary with a cute lock on the cover.

“I’m assuming you still have the key, Frazer?”

“Oh give me all of three seconds,” Chloe said with a chuckle, sitting and pulling the lockpick from her hair. “These are never--” click. “Here we go. Ah, it’ll be on the last page...I think.”

Nadine had rested her arm across the chair and around Chloe’s shoulders. “What’s that drawing?”

“That is me.”

Nadine’s laughter was scoffing. “And--and the hair?”

“That’s what I looked like,” Chloe paged away from the emo self portrait. “Makeup and all.”

“Oh, that hasn’t changed.”

“Very funny.”

Nadine leaned forward. “Who’s this Tommy you mention on every page?”

“You can actually read that? I’m impressed. I definitely have better handwriting now--”

“Chloe?’

Somehow, they hadn’t noticed footsteps on the stairs and down the hallway, but the click of the door made them both jump.

Chloe’s mother walked in, holding some mail, and blinked. Why would they have a guilty conscience now? Why did it feel like they’d been interrupted in something important and bad?

They were only two grown adults trying to break into an ancient computer because Neopets wasn’t mobile-optimized, after all. Chloe wanted to hiss to Nadine that her job was the lookout, but Nadine looked more terrified than Chloe had ever seen her; she had just about hopped back from the chair.

“Something came for you,” Leah Frazer said.

“I...see that,” Chloe said, hand going to her hair. “You can leave it, mummy.”

“Think it’s from your school.”

“From...which school?”

Leah shrugged her shoulders. “The uni you never went to? It’s from Tim M. Pierce High.”

And she wonders why I never visit. Chloe stood, pushing her hand through her loose, damp hair one last time, reaching out for the envelope with the familiar emblem in the corner.

She’d worn it on her silly skirt-and-polo uniform all those years ago, fighting its conformity with home-dyed streaks in her sharply cut hair and her eyeliner even more intense than she wore now. She might have switched it up with novelty contact lenses sometimes too--she wasn’t proud of that--but she could stop a black-pentagon-bedecked ball with one black-nailed hand and aced all her history tests.

Yes, Chloe remembered Tim M. Pierce, and she also remembered opting out of another few years of being treated like she was weird and dumb.

“Are they...asking for donations? Or something?”

“I think it’s an invitation,” Chloe’s mother said. “Might be having the reunion soon.”

“The reunion,” Chloe said, as if the word was foreign to her.

“Nice timing, isn’t it? You being back for the first time in forever. You could go.”

Chloe breathed out sharply through her nose as her mother closed the door and her footsteps paced back down the hall.

Nadine leapt in front of her. “Let’s go to a hotel, ja?”

“Are you scared of her, love? She’s not going to kill us.”

Nadine shook her head so emphatically Chloe actually had to look up from turning the envelope around in her hand. “She doesn’t like me. She doesn’t like me here.”

It took a long, embarrassing moment for Chloe to even pick up on what she meant.

“Oh. No, no,” Chloe laughed, waving her hand and turning back. “No, she’s mad at me, honey. Because I haven’t been in awhile and--”

“Frazer--”

“Nadine this is my mother. She doesn’t even know--no. She had--you’ve misjudged her.”

Nadine said, flatly, “I’ll find one myself.”

“Nadine, she’s not like that. She’s just snappy. I--I get it from her,” Chloe said, sitting back down. “Where were we? Oh yes, let’s find the password.”

“You didn’t even call ahead to tell her we were coming?”

Chloe felt the nerves in Nadine’s voice, but she also felt sick that her mother had inadvertently upset her. “I’ll talk to her, Nadine. I’ll tell her to--”

“No, no, no!” Nadine was really losing it, wasn’t she, wandering around the emo-band-poster-walled fortress with her face in her hands. “Don’t say it. Don’t say I told you to--that she--”

“Was making my partner uncomfortable?”

“Ja, that’s what you don’t tell her. Do not tell her that.”

“Oh relax,” Chloe said. “Between you and Nate, she’d throw him out of the house first.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That she judges character. Well. About that. You wanted to know about Tommy?” Chloe held out the open journal, showing a double-page spread of a crude drawing of a boy and her very impractically dressed self, holding hands. “He was my widdle baby crush. Mum didn’t like him.”

“Was he the psychopath type you always go for?”

Chloe laughed. “He was a good student. Squeaky-clean. She still hated the sight of him.”

“Ja, your drawing doesn’t really sell him either.”

Chloe returned fire by throwing the entire journal back at Nadine, who snatched it out of the air and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, glancing back at the door. Chloe turned back to the keyboard and typed the password that had been scrawled beneath the drawing:

ChloeAndTom4ever.

“Open sesame,” she said, as the startup noise pinged and the cursor did its loading animation.

“You think he’ll be at the reunion?” Nadine said.

“Oh, who goes to those? Did you go to yours?”

“My schools didn’t have them.”

“Well,” Chloe chuckled, but it was flat, nervous, “I didn’t enjoy my time at school, and I don’t see why I would want to be reminded.”

“Maybe he’s still single.”

“I doubt it. He’s balding and divorced, Nadine, one hundred percent. Crushes in your teen years do not hold up. Ah, here. Just...click on internet explorer...”

“God this is ancient,” Nadine muttered, having come over to hover at Chloe’s shoulder again. “Does it even have an antivirus?”

Chloe hovered the mouse over the taskbar. “McAfee.”

“Oh,” Nadine said. “Then, no.”

“I used the same password for Neopets! Let’s see. Oh. Well, the map is different. Didn’t it use to have Mcdonalds?”

Nadine bumped her arm. “I thought you called it Maccas or something here?”

Chloe squinted at her and said, “‘Didn’t it use to have Maccas?’”

Nadine’s laugh was worth it, even as Chloe reached up and gave her a poke in her stomach. Nadine held her stomach and flopped back on the bed. Chloe loved Nadine’s laugh to pieces, loved how it completely overcame her.

“See? My Neopets are all here. Nadine, pull yourself together!”

Nadine did, eventually, and came over to peer at the screen, at Chloe’s five Kaus and two Kougras of varying shades. “Starving. Starving. Starving,” Nadine recited, hovering the mouse over all of them. “Great parenting, Frazer.”

“All right, but they’re not dead, are they? I’ll just go get a free omelet and feed them now,” Chloe said.

“They’re not even wearing any clothes.”

“They’re animals, silly. They don’t wear clothes.”

Nadine snapped, “Let me log in.”

And Chloe had to stare at four perfectly dressed Mynci. Skirts, hats, entire outfits. And they were all fed.

“Someone,” Chloe said darkly, standing and grabbing Nadine’s shoulders, “Waited for me to fall asleep on the plane and logged into her account on the sly--”

“Or maybe I’m just proper at Neopets, Frazer?”

Nadine grappled her back, and they fell onto the twin mattress, giggling and slapping at each other.

“You didn’t even know they could wear clothes. All of them can wear any clothes--” Nadine was saying, as Chloe shook her by the shoulders, “not like those MMO’s that gender-lock everything--oh shit it’s your mum again--”

Nadine said the last few words lightning-fast, trying to separate from Chloe, who only grabbed her tighter, and they both tumbled to the carpet as Leah Frazer walked in.

“What are you doing. Chloe, I swear to God,” the woman said, setting a pitcher of lemonade down by the computer with two glasses. “Stop hitting Ms. Ross. You never grew up.”

“We weren’t fighting.”

“Oh come off it,” she said. “And get these posters off the walls. It feels like these freaks are about to stab me every time I walk in here.”

“You could have taken them off,” Chloe said, struggling to keep Nadine pinned to the fluffy floor. “Could have made it a nice guest room, chucked all my stuff in the bin--”

“So dramatic,” Leah said, taking her elbow and forcefully pulling her off Nadine. “And immature. Where did you get these cuts?”

She looked at Nadine too, taking her wrist, searching for the scabs that hadn’t quite healed off in the week or two since the end of their adventure in India. Nadine had treated hers, but Chloe’s definitely had worsened. “What were you doing there?”

“Mum, you remember how it was, the mosquitos--” Chloe said.

“Tree branches,” Nadine said tightly.

“--hiking is a--a contact sport--”

“You’re both lying,” Chloe’s mum said. “And to think you brushed it off when I told you about that insurrection. I was watching the news getting worse and worse and you didn’t even call to let me know you were all right, Chloe Frazer.”

The woman headed back to the door, but remembered something, as parents will after having already scolded you, and turned back. “Maybe you can show those photos at the reunion. They’re gorgeous.”

“Mum, I told you, nobody there was on my wavelength.”

Nadine burst out laughing.

A very rare smile came to Leah Frazer’s face. “Well, they usually allow a plus-one...”

#chlodine #chlodineweek #chlodineweek2021 #chloe x nadine #nadine x chloe #uncharted: the lost legacy #neopets saga

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

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B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #viren #harrow #rayla #runaan #callum #claudia #soren #lujanne #moonshadow elves #aaravos

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