#gods. I just think High School Classmate Suddenly Gets Way Too Into Fishing is the funniest fucking thing that can happen

[bacchuschucklefuck]

this has been a roller coaster of a design journey but finally I can present you: class swap artificer!adaine and rogue!fabian

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Most Likely (high school reunion Stucky fic)

Seven:

No. Nope. Nuh uh. This wasn't working.

Looking at his reflection, Bucky found fault in everything about himself. From the way that the suit seemed too... much... for the casual cocktail. But what the hell did someone wear to a casual cocktail? Was it business casual? Or was it like Casual Friday at work where he wore jeans and a flannel with a tie?

Shaking his head, Bucky tried to knot his tie, but the silk fabric wasn't cooperating. Or rather, the shaking of his hands was making it not cooperate.

So, redirecting his attention from his clothes to other things, Bucky tried to tame his unruly hair. He knew he shouldn't have gotten a haircut so close to the reunion, but he looked too disheveled before. And while that was fine when he had nothing to do during the summer, he wanted his former classmates to think he was distinguished.

Just a little bit.

Possibly for only one person...

Shaking his head again, he decided no tie, exchanged his suit for a sport coat and some nice slacks, and checked his watch. He needed to leave soon if he wanted to beat traffic. And while he imagined making an entrance and being fashionably late, he knew that he wouldn't be able to sit there and wait. He was already anxious; he didn't need to make it any worse by prologuing the wait.

Gathering his phone and his wallet, Bucky went to grab his keys. Nemo brushed against his legs, surely getting hair all over his pressed black slacks – fabulous. As he scratched the orange tabby's head, Bucky assured, "I'll be home tonight."

But just in case – in case what, for fuck's sake? – Bucky made sure to put some food in the fish shaped dish and give him some fresh water. After all, maybe things would go well. Go great. Maybe he and Steve –

Shaking his head again, he left the house before he could get himself all riled up. Because that was the absolute last thing that he needed. Especially if he actually did meet up with Steve and by some grace of God, they hit it off again. Perhaps they could even pick back up where they left off and be friends like they used to be before...

Bucky didn't want to get his hopes up though.

A little voice in the back of his head confirmed, too late.

Still, Bucky fidgeted the entire way to the Red Room Resort and Spa. He wasn't sure why they needed to go somewhere so extravagant, but he wasn't going to question it. After all, he had never been there but had always heard people raving about it. He hoped that it was going to be half as good as everyone made it out to seem.

But he wasn't going to lie to himself. He knew that how good the place was, was going to depend on the time he had there. And he hoped that it was going to be good.

Pulling up to the elaborate resort, Bucky couldn't help but gape up at it. Up over the little hills of the perfectly manicured sprawling lawns. Up, over, and past the long, winding drive.

Once he finally caught a full glimpse of main building of the resort, Bucky thought he might pull over just so he could look up at it properly. There were beautiful timber-framed gables with lovely stone accents. It was devastatingly stunning and welcoming. Really, the whole mountain craftsman build made Bucky want to cozy up in front of a fire with a mug of spiked hot chocolate while listening to Bing Crosby.

However, he didn't pull over to admire it from afar. He, instead, continued driving up the winding path and got in line for the valet. Figuring that he might as well go out. Especially since he wasn't sure if he'd even want to go to the other gatherings throughout the weekend.

"Sir," one of the valets politely greeted Bucky when it was his turn.

"Thanks," Bucky shyly smiled, handing over his keys and taking the ticket.

Suddenly, as he stood in front of the doors, Bucky's stomach twisted into tight knots that threatened to wring him from the inside out. His heart pounded so harsh against his ribs that he thought it might burst free.

Christ, I need to get a fucking grip.

Inside the lobby, Bucky noticed the sign outside of the banquet hall welcoming the class of 2010. Pausing, Bucky took in a deep breath and took a moment to fidget with his sport coat. Wondering if he really had it in him to do this.

Most of him didn't think he was.

A very small – but very loud – part encouraged him to grow some balls and get in there.

So, he entered into the banquet hall. More people than he remembered were already in there. He couldn't help but scan the room for Steve. He guessed that old habits died hard because that was always his go-to when it came to Steve being in the same location as him. Twenty-five years later or not, and Bucky had already fallen back into that insecure, stupidly in love teen that he had once been.

That he had always been.

"Hi, there!"

Jumping at the unexpected greeting, Bucky glanced over at the table with nametags. Not sure if all of those people were going to be there, but he did attempt to find Steve's before his own. When he didn't see it, he grabbed his own.

Pinning it to his jacket, he had almost forgotten how dorky his school picture had been. So, thanks for the reminder!

"Jimmy? Jimmy Barnes?" The woman smiled at him, clearly knowing who he was.

And he had no idea who she was.

Glancing at the name tag pinned to her dress, Barbara Barton. Barbara. Barbara. Who the ever-loving fuck was Barbara? Then, memories of a sweet, shy girl correcting teachers to use her middle name came to the forefront of his mind. Pleasantly surprised, he asked, "Laura?"

"Long time, no see," Laura smiled.

"No kidding!" Bucky chuckled. "When'd Barton finally convince you to marry him?"

"About three kids and eighteen years ago."

"No shit?!"

"No shit," Laura confirmed.

"Well," Bucky awkwardly stood there off to the side as other former classmates got their name tags. Realizing for the first time that it wasn't just Steve that he had lost contact with, but almost everyone else. Steve had just been the one that mattered the most.

Wanting to get away from his shitty teenage mistakes – and find a drink – Bucky said, "Mazel tov!"

"Thanks," Laura smiled, before returning to her table and greeting someone else.

Bucky didn't mind though. Instead, he idly made his way over to the open bar. Looking at all the achievements that him and his classmates made, all of it lined against one wall. Science Fair awards. Sports records. And then he came across the senior class awards, and the guilt broke his heart all over again.

There, back-to-back, Steve and Bucky stood. If he thought about it long enough, he'd be able to still feel the warmth of Steve's body that close to his own. Wide, goofy grins on their faces because they didn't know what the next twenty-five years held for them. Bucky wished that their senior award of, "Most Likely to Stay BFFs Forever," had come true.

If it wasn't for you, it would've, Bucky harshly reminded himself.

Keeping it moving, Bucky wandered down the line of tables set up with old pictures and awards. Then, he paused and his heart jumped up into his throat. He didn't know why it had never crossed his mind until he spotted the memorial table, but what if something had happened to Ste–

Pu, pu, pu!

Bucky wasn't even about to put that out there in the universe. That would be the last crack that broke his heart, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to heal from that. But his eyes still rapidly ran over the different pictures, pleading to any and all gods that Steve's picture wasn't on that table along with Jane Foster, Brock Rumlow, and the other classmates that he wasn't all that close to either.

When Steve's face wasn't on one of those candles, Bucky felt as though he could finally breathe again.

Now, he really needed a drink.

Spotting the open bar, Bucky immediately took the next place in line. Eyes always scanning behind him to the larger room for the skinny punk that had been his number one confidant and the love of his life. God, he could beat himself up all night about how stupid he had been to let Steve walk out of his life.

What the fuck had he been think–

"Buck?"

[aeonghaseyo]

Your Trace, My Treasure

Summary: Marc and Nathaniel write and draw, respectively, on each others' notebooks because it's DEFINITELY a couple thing to do.

Word Count: 2105 AO3 link

Relationship/s: Nathaniel Kurtzberg/Marc Anciel Category: M/M Characters: Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel, Alix Kubdel (mentioned), Marinette Dupain-Cheng (mentioned), Juleka Couffaine (mentioned), Rose Lavillant (mentioned), Alya Cesaire (mentioned) Language used: English Author's Note: The creators of MLB really need to give the side characters screen time. The love square isn't the only romantic set of ships in the show and there are much more cute ships to write about. And so in my first time of writing a Miraculous Ladybug fanfic, it's about a ship that's entirely not part of the love square. This is my final workshop output from a creative writing class I enrolled in during the summer to get units in advance. Special thanks to my professor and two of my classmates for their feedback; I couldn't have made this work even more wonderful without their help. For the non-love-square ship and this being a successful workshop output thus far, I think I'm gonna give myself a pat on the back and more fanfic ideas to write. :)

Compared to the courtyard at Françoise Dupont High School where the lively chattering of students can be heard and the scrambling of footsteps were a staple, the art room was its own entire world of silence.

It was supposed to be a calming silence in that same art room where Marc and Nathaniel were to work on art-related endeavors of their own, but the former found this unwelcoming and rather deafening. It weighed down on his being that the atmosphere was unbearably awkward, much like he was most of the time even before he met Nathaniel and became his partner in creating comic books about Ladybug, Chat Noir, and their akumatized alter-egos who turned good and served as part of the superhero duo’s akuma-fighting team. Despite a remarkable development from being acquaintances, to newfound partners, and now to a bloomed romantic couple, Marc Anciel, as awkward as ever and still testing the waters on this newfound relationship, couldn’t shake this nagging feeling of inadequacy as someone’s significant other.

It just goes to show him that even though his romantic feelings for Nathaniel had been reciprocated at Day 0, it does not remove the remaining unease that Marc currently feels at Day 1. It was his first time in a relationship, and it was with the boy whose drawings he admired so much from the school paper. Simply put, it was too good to be true.

Unfortunately, the awkwardness Marc felt wasn’t masked enough, and Nathaniel immediately noticed from his place by the table beside his raven-haired beau. How could he not? It was very obvious, from the way Marc’s hand shakily distorted his usually refined, elegant script while writing the next chapter of their comic to the way his expression was contorted as if he was constipated. Nathaniel thought to himself that it was still an adorable sight, but clearly, something was up, and it wouldn’t do well to just ignore whatever troubled his beloved partner. Attempting to break the ice, the redhead cleared his throat, then spoke to call Marc’s attention.

“Marc.”

The novelist jolted in surprise at the utterance of his name. “Y-yes, Nathaniel?”

Leaning in for a better view of the page Marc was writing on, Nathaniel replied, “Your handwriting’s different.”

“W-wait, really?” blurted out Marc, quickly covering the page with his gloved hand. “I d-didn’t know you were p-particular with handwriting.”

Nathaniel placed a gentle, caring hand on his boyfriend’s with a smile aimed directly at him as he clarified himself, “It’s not that, Marc. I’ve seen it and it’s great. Right now, it just looks… wobbly. You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Even if Nathaniel was a recluse in his own class, he could very well read into the emotions of people, but he doesn’t show it that often. As endearing as it was as a show of concern towards shy Marc, it was also overwhelming for the raven-haired novelist to have been the subject of such deep perception, even from the boy his heart palpitates for.

It was then that Marc’s fight or flight response reminded him in a split-second that he needed some sort of diversion for Nathaniel not to remind him of his own awkwardness.

“Isn’t it weird that our art teacher didn’t come here?” Marc rapidly questioned as he struggled not to look at the red-haired boy beside him. Despite this attempt to keep Nathaniel’s focus off of his disposition, glancing towards the door and not at Nathaniel did not help stop the blood from rushing to the novelist’s fair cheeks. His partner might be tired of this, of him, already, but that light chuckle of pure amusement coming from Nathaniel disproved that thought.

“Hey, hey, settle down Marc,” chided Nathaniel, “he might be running late. It’s okay for us to use the art room so long as it’s reserved around this time. Good thing that he reserved it at an earlier time than usual.”

With innocent green eyes, the raven-haired boy looked his boyfriend in the eye and asked, “H-he can do that?”

“Of course, he can. Let’s just wait for him, okay?” reassured Nathaniel, his left hand making its way on Marc’s right shoulder discreetly. “I’m sure my other classmates will arrive here shortly too.”

A shy smile emerged from Marc’s face as he replied, “Okay, Nath.”

Suddenly, a ringtone from the phone which was in Nathaniel’s pocket sounded audibly enough to catch both the boys’ attention. The redhead immediately fished out the device from his pocket and unlocked it, revealing three unread text messages from his close friend Alix.

Hey Nath! Something came up and I couldn’t swing by the art room. Love troubles again with Marinette. Juleka and Rose are also helping out with me so they can’t come.

I can’t believe that Marinette got invited personally by Adrien to his photoshoot but she can’t even give him her handmade gift or ask him out. Because she’s such a wuss, I got dragged here in the park by Rose because Mari needs all of her girl friends to push her towards Golden Boy Agreste YET AGAIN.

And apparently Alya alone couldn’t do it. Sorry! You’ll have Marc to keep you company anyway. Have fun! ;)

So much for those girls coming over to the art room. Nathaniel let out a sigh as he muttered, just enough for Marc to hear, “I stand corrected. The others aren’t coming.”

Catching on his partner’s crest-fallen demeanor and gazing at his face with sympathetic green orbs, Marc replied, “Guess it’s just the two of us for now.”

The next minutes were spent in silence again, with Marc continuing to finish a paragraph while Nathaniel sketched a bird’s eye view of the Eiffel tower as the background in one panel of the comic storyboard in his notebook. After several minutes elapsed, however, curiosity got the best of Marc, and so, with the tip of his pen lingering on the period of his last sentence, he kept on glancing at Nathaniel and the storyboarding he was working on. Besides the sheer focus that was evident in Nathaniel’s turquoise orbs, the shy novelist couldn’t help but notice the fine, steady strokes his beau’s hand were making with his fine-pointed mechanical pencil. So neat, so pristine. It’s amazing how he didn’t need an eraser to erase certain portions of his drawings over and over.

Marc had seen artist sketches himself of both people and objects, mostly done by his friend Marinette. As someone aspiring to become a fashion designer, she would be engrossed in sketching designs day by day, passion ignited by the sparks of inspiration she draws from around her. However, since Marinette’s sketches had obvious hints of disorder, as it normally is with crude artist sketches, it clearly contrasted with the otherwise structured sketches Nathaniel makes for his comic books. Marc, fully in awe, couldn’t help but take a break from his writing and stare at the red-haired illustrator’s creative process right next to him.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel, thanks to the strong, overbearing feeling of being watched, was getting overly conscious of his work. Keeping his composure to the best of his ability, he quickly turned to Marc and asked, “Do you need something Marc?”

Snapped out of his trance wide-eyed, Marc inwardly panicked. ‘Oh no, I must be staring at him too long! I hope I didn’t spook him too much.’

Scrambling for a sensible response, the novelist stuttered out, “I-i want to write something in your notebook.”

Setting down his pencil while his turquoise eyes were still on Marc, Nathaniel blinked inquisitively. “Oh, why would you want to do that?”

“B-because,” the shy writer reasoned, “I want to write something to remind you of me. T-that is, if y-you don’t mind.”

The red-haired teen averted his gaze from his partner as he remarked, “You know I don’t let anyone write on my notebook, Marc.”

This response triggered the disappointment that Marc had anticipated from the moment that they started continuing to develop the rest of the comic book they were working on together. It was even more daunting for the timid writer that their art teacher and the rest of Nathaniel’s classmates who were usually in the art room with them did not show up at that moment, or even at all. Marinette would tell Nathaniel that it’s a great idea for his newfound love to leave special traces on his personal notebook while Rose, somehow finding this romantic, would gush at this gesture with Juleka mumbling to herself in response. But what would have been the cherry on top for Marc at the moment is that if Alix was there to egg on Nathaniel, pressuring him to give in and let his boyfriend write something in his notebook. At least the comic relief from Alix’s teasing would help alleviate the collective awkwardness the couple felt at that moment. God, if only it wasn’t just the two of them in the art room at that moment.

But alas, he was alone, helpless and daunted, and he was facing the dragon which was Nathaniel, or whatever Nathaniel thought of him at that moment.

However, all of the fears and doubts that plagued Marc left him when Nathaniel continued with a small, endearing smile on his face, “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

The novelist beamed at his boyfriend, green eyes sparkling with delight. “R-really?”

“In one condition.”

Marc took and held in a quick breath. “Anything, Nath.”

The illustrator picked up his pencil once again and uttered, with an outstretched hand right by Marc’s notebook, “Let me draw in your notebook.”

It was at that moment when Marc could feel his heart flutter, accompanied by the butterflies in his stomach as he opened his own notebook to the very last page and laid it out right by his beau’s workspace.

“It would be my pleasure.”

In a span of 2 minutes while Nathaniel was drawing on the last page of his boyfriend’s notebook, Marc, fidgeting and tapping his pen softly on his chin, racked his brain for a simple yet memorable piece to write on the first page of the illustrator’s notebook, which was left empty out of personal preference by its owner. Hoping to obtain bit by bit of inspiration, he glanced at Nathaniel, then at the empty page, then at Nathaniel, and so on and so forth. This went on, albeit unnoticed by the redhead, until mere seconds after, he scribbled away on the page once he had gotten attuned with his creative writing flow.

After both of them finished leaving their traces on each other’s notebook pages, Nathaniel and Marc gave each other back their notebooks and instantly opened them to where they each left their special mark. Struck with awe, the novelist softly traced the outline of the drawing and his emerald eyes were drawn to Nathaniel’s signature which he left underneath the recently drawn portrait. A tinge of pink formed on Marc’s cheeks as he admired every stroke that constituted this drawing of him done by none other than the boy he once looked up to, now loved, and who loved him back.

“No one’s written me a poem before,” Nathaniel uttered as he perused every line written by Marc on that now extra special page in his notebook, eyes taking in every word written in that distinct elegant script that served as an epitome of beauty that the redhead beheld. One particular line at the end of the writing, however, caught him by surprise: the words ‘Je t’aime’ accompanied by Marc’s signature in that same fancy handwriting the illustrator adored dearly.

Having regained his composure, Marc turned to Nathaniel and asked, “Do you like the poem? I-i thought of it on the spot so it might not exactly be to your liking, but-”

“I love it,” interrupted the red-haired teen breathlessly, wrapping an arm around his significant other and squeezing his shoulder. “Really Marc, you make the most wonderful written pieces.”

An expression as bright as day graced Marc’s features as he replied, albeit with a bit of shyness in his voice, “Y-you really think so?”

Nathaniel threw any single hint of hesitation in his being out the window as he placed a tender, loving kiss on Marc’s forehead. “I do. We’re meant to be partnered together, after all.”

And just like that, the uncomfortable awkwardness that haunted Marc was instantly warded off, and in a flash, he enveloped Nathaniel in a tight, warm, loving embrace and leaned into him in newfound solace. The silence in the art room has never been this comforting as the couple relished in this seemingly endless embrace together.

[venialsun]

to begin with, take warning (2/3)

[read on ao3]

1 | 2 | 3

When Damian found his way to his first class of the day, having missed something called homeroom and the first ten minutes, the instructor shook his head playfully and made Damian introduce himself and explain what he had done over the summer. He could not say he had spent the past few months traipsing across the globe, hanging out with killers and thieves, and dying more often than not as he tried to escape the oppressive feeling that had descended upon Gotham after years of tragedies and increasing catastrophes. So he said he spent some time with his mother’s family on their private island, which was close enough, took a seat at the back of the room, and listened to his classmates reconnect with old friends and talk about their vacations and holidays with an increasing sense of annoyance.

The rest of the morning classes were no better. The teachers would guide the students through introductions and some small talk, go through their syllabus, and sometimes begin a lesson that Damian was entirely bored by. A few of his classmates tried to speak with him, asking him questions about his family, about himself, and smiling welcomingly at him, but the last thing he wanted to do was talk about that can of worms. He was not sure what he would say, how to spin his life into something half-truthful yet still benign. He’d never had to before. The rest of the students ignored him, and he was more than happy to ignore them right back.

By lunchtime, he was contemplating leaving and telling his Father he was done with this whole experiment. But Yanez’s yellow slip burned in his pocket, and Damian was not one to give up so easily. He would make it through the day, if nothing else.

The technology atrium was between the main academic building and the arts auditorium. A squat addition to the main building with walls made of glass and supported by steel beams, it stuck out like a sore thumb against the dark slate stones and high neo-Gothic arches and spires of the rest of Gotham Academy. Damian glowered as he neared and realized this was not only the technology atrium but, according to the placard over the main entrance, the Kenneth H. Wayne Technology Atrium.

Of course.

Inside, rows of computers and long tables encircled a central desk where a young woman sat typing at a laptop. She looked up as Damian approached and asked, “What’s up?”

Damian fished out the yellow slip and showed it to her. “Principal Yanez assigned me community tutoring or whatever.”

She took the slip and scanned it. “Already? Dang, kid, what’d ya do?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say. Hold on. Let me pull her notes.” She busied herself clicking and scrolling, then paused. “Oh, wow. I see. Well, hi, Damian. Glad to have you. I’m Miss Daisy.” She handed him back the slip.

“Daisy?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Well, Miss Daskalakis, but I got tired of all you runts mispronouncing it.”

“Miss Daskalakis,” said Damian, exactly.

Daskalakis smiled. “That was pretty good, actually. Okay, in about ten minutes, we should have some of the PSAT and SAT kids show up for their first prep. Make yourself comfortable at one of the tables, eat some of your lunch, and when they show up I’ll introduce you and explain the rundown.”

“Lunch?”

“You brought something to eat, didn’t you? Or you can go pick something up at the cafeteria.” She glanced at her laptop. “There’s still time, and since it’s the first day, there’s no rush.”

Damian hesitated. “Principal Yanez said I was to report here.”

“We’re not going to make you skip lunch, Damian,” said Daskalakis. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. Here, what do you want?” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll message my assistant to bring you something. He should already be at the cafeteria.”

“Anything vegetarian,” he said.

Daskalakis gave him a thumbs up. “Got it.”

He went to sit at one of the long tables. Surreptitiously, he pulled out his phone to figure out what in the world the PSAT and SAT were supposed to be. He was puzzling his way through the most confusingly worded, backwards maths questions he had ever read, when the door opened. Damian glanced up and froze.

The red-headed boy at the entrance to the atrium also froze, eyes wide like he had seen a ghost.

“Colin!” called Daskalakis. “Hey, this is Damian. Thanks for grabbing lunch.”

“Colin,” Damian said.

“Damian,” said Colin Wilkes. “Oh, my god. Damian. Dude!”

“Do you two know each other?” asked Daskalakis.

“No,” said Damian, at the same time Colin said, “Yes.” Then Colin said, “No,” at the same time Damian said, “Yes.”

“Cool,” said Daskalakis, dragging out the oo. “Cool, cool, cool. Can you guys figure that out? We have, like, five minutes.”

Colin approached and deposited what looked like a rice dish with vegetables in front of him. “Um, this is for you. I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got you a taco bowl minus the taco.”

“Thanks,” said Damian, accepting the not-taco bowl.

“So.” Colin sat across from him. “Long time no see, huh.”

Damian snorted. “I’ve been busy,” he said.

“No shit. Your family has been freaking out for like the past six months, saying you’re missing and Robin went rogue or something. Then the old Robin came back. The Titans restarted. Then there’s video of another Robin sword-fighting crime all over the world. I assume that was you. Dude, I thought you were dead.”

“To be fair,” said Damian as he opened his taco bowl and mixed the ingredients, “I was. A couple of times. Doesn’t seem to stick.”

Colin laughed. “Your mom?”

Damian chuckled, startling himself. “Something like that. Though the first time was a few years back. I was—gone—for nearly a year, and my Father resurrected me with alien magic.”

“Sick. I remember that,” said Colin. “You dropped off the face of the earth. Didn’t come by the orphanage anymore or sneak out with me for patrols. People were saying Batman went crazy. I thought you just decided you didn’t want to hang out anymore.”

“I—” Damian spooned some rice into mouth. Chewed, swallowed. Colin looked at him throughout, unrelenting. “I didn’t ignore you deliberately. And then after I came back, things were so…”

Colin waved a hand and unwrapped a greasy slice of pizza. He took a bite. “It’s cool, man. You literally just told me you’ve died multiple times. Plural. I can get over my hurt feelings. Seems kind of trivial in comparison.”

Damian frowned and ate some more rice. Colin ate his pizza. Then Damian set his fork down, resolute, grip tight on the handle. As evenly as he could, he said, “I apologize for not being a better friend to you.”

“Whoa.” Colin’s eyebrows shot up. His expression pinched with worry as he searched Damian’s face. “What happened, man?”

Damian swallowed.

Then the door opened again, and an older boy—sixteen or seventeen—peaked inside and asked, “Is this SAT prep?”

“Sure is,” said Daskalakis from the central desk. She stood and indicated Damian and Colin to follow her. “Come in, come in, I’ll set you up right over here.”

Damian stood. “Later,” he said in an undertone. “I’ll explain later. I promise.”

“Okay,” Colin agreed. “But if you disappear on me again, this time I know where you go to school, so there’s no use hiding.”

“Have you known me to ever hide from anything?”

Colin smirked and said nothing.

Damian’s face felt suddenly warm. “Shut up,” he said. “We have work to do.”

•

Surprisingly, tutoring his fellow students was not the disaster he thought it would be. There was some initial skepticism from the upperclassmen about being tutored by a fourteen-year-old, but after Daskalakis declared him “a genius prodigy or something, according to Yanez,” that eventually quieted. It helped that though the PSAT and SAT problems and questions were simple enough, the wording and specificity grated on him, and soon he was insulting the intelligence of the College Board and standardized tests in general. That endeared him to the upperclassmen, and afterward the rest of the lunch hour passed without trouble.

Colin sidled up next to Damian as he gathered his materials to leave and showed him a crumpled-up piece of paper. “What’s your next class?” he asked. It was his schedule.

“Physical education,” said Damian. He had already memorized his own.

“Oh, really? Sweet. Me, too. We’ll go to PE together. I met Coach Freeman at the orientation. I think you’ll like her. What about after?”

Damian listed off his afternoon classes: physical education, then biology, then ancient rhetorics, and ending with a free study period. They shared no core classes, only homeroom, lunch, and physical education. Colin teased him for taking the honors track, and Damian started to complain that the classes were not interesting let alone challenging. But then he got sidetracked by wondering why Colin was somehow not in the honors track but still Daskalakis’s assistant for community tutoring (which, Damian insisted, was a dumb idea for punishments and an even dumber name). Colin laughed and explained he mostly helped with the younger kids. He said he was good with them, thanks to all the practice he’d had helping the nuns wrangle traumatized orphans and foster kids while growing up in the orphanage.

“After all that, spoiled rich kids are easy,” Colin said. He nudged Damian in the ribs. “It’s why we’re friends.”

“I thought that was because we both liked beating up on creeps a little too much,” said Damian, wry.

Colin grinned, and for a moment his face seemed to take on the grisly severity of Abuse—Venom-distorted and menacing. “That too.”

Physical education—“Just call it PE, dude,” Colin said—was a bore, more than Damian had anticipated. After changing into their gym uniforms and the requisite round of introductions, Coach Freeman set them on an obstacle course made up of rubber tires and colorful ropes. Damian was not impressed. But he remembered what his Father had said about damaging school property and refrained from destroying the so-called obstacles as he passed his struggling classmates and returned to Coach Freeman.

“What now?” he asked. To his frustration, he had hardly broken a sweat.

“Excuse me,” said Freeman. “Why aren’t you on the course?”

“I’ve finished it.”

“You’ve finished it?” Freeman checked the stopwatch hanging from her neck. “In slightly under six minutes? I don’t think so. Did you take a shortcut?”

“No,” said Damian. “It was easy.”

“Right. Well, if it was so easy, then hop to it. Do it again,” she said. “And this time, I’ll be watching you.”

“Weren’t you already supposed to be doing that?” asked Damian, but he did not argue further and restarted the course. It was better than doing nothing and standing around like an invalid, anyway.

This time he forced himself to go slower, aware he had done something abnormal. But it wasn’t his fault he was above this child’s play. He jogged the 100 meters to the start of course, climbed up the wooden incline, jumped down, belly-crawled under the mesh ropes, alternated jumps between tires then between wooden slats, climbed the rope to ring a bell, balanced across the too-wide beams, swung from bar to bar, and finished off by climbing over three wooden walls of increasing height. At the last wall, he paused and pulled a girl who had been struggling for the last two minutes up and over. Then he jumped down and high-fived Colin, who had finished his first runthrough. Going slower had forced him to focus the strain on his muscles, and the burn in his body and clarity of mind was starting to feel comforting and familiar.

He jogged back to Coach Freeman. “Shall I go again?”

She clicked her stopwatch and stared at it. Then she stared at him. “Slightly under eight minutes,” she said. “What’s your name, son?”

“I’m not your son.” He crossed his arms. “And name’s Damian. Damian Wayne.”

“Wayne, huh?” Freeman grinned. “Well, Mr. Wayne, Gotham Academy’s happy to have you. What’s your poison?”

“Pardon?”

“Your sport, Mr. Wayne. Your sport. Everyone’s got one. And if you don’t, not to worry. The Academy’s got a team for everything. You’ll be attending the end-of-day assembly, correct?”

“It is mandatory,” said Damian.

“Perfect,” said Freeman. “The main teams will be doing showcases there. Scope them out, see what you think. General tryouts are in two weeks, and I expect to see you there.”

Damian grimaced. “Do you now.”

Freeman nodded. “Sure do.” Then her attention drifted; her nose scrunched, she blew her whistle and screamed across the field, “You two, under the mesh! Keep your hands to yourselves! No one needs to see all that!”

•

The rest of the day passed quickly. He ran the course twice more, for the hell of it, alternating between pausing to help a classmate over a particularly difficult hurdle or shouting at them to hurry the hell up so Damian could finish already. He got used to the rhythm of it, the formula of general teacher attention interspersed with student social-play. By Ancient Rhetorics, he was an old hat at describing his incredibly fun island adventure halfway across the world and not scowling whenever anyone bemoaned their envy at the life of a rich socialite without responsibilities or true problems. He had even managed to hold a few short conversations with two or three of his classmates, though for the life of him he could not remember their names. A day of nothing but introductions had thoroughly fried his brain and prevented him from retaining anything more complicated than Jessica—because there did seem to be an awful lot of Jessicas.

His phone buzzed as the early bell rang and he merged into the streaming crowd of students heading for the auditorium for the back-to-school assembly.

It was a message from his Father:

Dinner tonight.

He frowned and tapped out a quick reply.

“Hey, Damian, over here!”

Damian looked up. Across the auditorium, Colin was surrounded by a group of teenagers and waving him over. Damian approached, pocketing his phone as he went. Then he paused and groaned when he recognized the small girl with yellow hair ribbons hovering excitedly between Colin and another group of older-looking students.

Fuck it. Damian ducked behind some large boys in jerseys and helmets—not hiding, per se, just utilizing his extensive array of evasive maneuvers to achieve a desired outcome—but it was too late. She had already spotted him.

“Oh my crap! Damian! You’re here?!”

Damian sighed and accepted his fate. With as much dignity as he had left, he emerged from behind the football team.

“Of course you two know each other,” he muttered.

“Huh?” said Colin.

“It is you!” exclaimed Maps Mizoguchi. “Olive, look who it is!”

From the group of older students, a girl with platinum blonde hair glanced over and, seeing Damian, scowled. “Oh,” said Olive Silverlock. “I did hear a Wayne was coming to Gotham Academy. Weren’t you expelled already?”

“You’ll find I’m hard to get rid of, Silverlock,” said Damian.

“Yanez is a softie, of course she let you back in,” continued Olive, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Hammerhead would’ve rather died.”

“You guys know each other?” asked Colin, looking concerned and glancing between them.

“No,” said Damian and Olive, at the same time Maps said, “Heck yeah! We’re all friends!”

“Doth mine ears deceive me? Did I hear Wayne—as in billionaire, more-money-than-I-would-know-what-to-with, bordering-on-unethical-wealth Wayne?” An older boy with sunglasses popped up behind Damian and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Good sir, might I interest you in—”

“Remove yourself from my person at once before I break your arm.”

The boy held up his hands and stepped away. “Got it, got it. No touchy. I can respect that,” he said. “So, Wayne, how do you feel about acquiring some fireworks for your own personal mischief?” He tilted his sunglasses down, conspiratorially. “At a discounted price, of course. Us trouble-makers have to stick together, y’know.”

“Quit it, Colton,” snapped Olive.

“Yeah,” laughed Colin. “That was Damian being nice.”

“You associate with these people?” Damian asked.

Colin shrugged. “I’m a part-time member of the Detectives Club.”

“Pizza club,” corrected Maps.

“The what.”

“Nerd club that solves school mysteries and shit,” said a girl from Colin’s group of younger students. She waved. “Hey, I’m Jess. Nice to meet you.”

Another fucking Jessica.

“Damian,” said Damian, putting up a hand in greeting.

This started another round of introductions and names he immediately deleted from his memory. Who knew Colin was so popular? It was the first day of school; he had not thought it was possible to align yourself with so many friends so quickly unless your name was Dick Grayson.

Slowly, both groups of younger and older students shuffled forward to their seats, helped along by the half-hearted encouragement of manic-looking adults. Somehow, Damian found himself squished between both groups, Colin on one side and Maps on another, as they chatted across him about summer and clubs and the teachers they already hated. Sensing an opportunity Damian told them of his run-in with Headmaster Hammer that morning, which triggered another round of commiserating laughter and louder complaints about what a hardass Hammerhead was—for they called the headmaster Hammerhead. Olive and Maps were the only ones to defend him, citing his one-man defense of the Academy when Joker had tried to take over the city two years ago.

“So?” said Damian. “Joker’s a bitch. He tries to take over the city all the time. That’s not impressive.”

By which a stuffy-looking blond boy in the row behind them became offended, scoffing, and Damian begrudgingly felt his respect grow for Colin’s friends as they immediately dog-piled on the boy for his shit opinion. Then no one could agree who of the Gotham rogues wasn’t a little bitch. And the argument devolved from there until Olive said Batman was a little bitch, too. Everyone laughed.

The lights dimmed. An off-key note rang out as the school band warmed up, and Headmaster Hammer and Principal Yanez stepped on stage.

Slowly in fits and starts, the auditorium quieted, and the assembly began.

next ->

[lady-charinette]

The Revealing Confession - Adrienette Fluff

A/N: This came as a lovely prompt from the amazing @ghostlyhamburger which I unfortunately couldn't do it justice. Hope you still like it a little my friend :3

Warnings: None (maybe cringe? I didnt write in a while)

Pairing: Adrienette

Genres: Fluff, Humor, Reveal

————————————————————————

Plagg lounged on his holder's bed, surrounded by camembert in a circle with a blissed expression.

Adrien rested his chin on his hand, next to him on the bed. "I can't believe this worked."

Plagg rolled over, bits and pieces of cheese rolling off his body in the process. "Huh?"

The model couldn't help but smile at his kwami's drunken expression, already high on cheese. "I can't believe I made a summoning circle with cheese and you fell for it. You're so greedy, Plagg."

The kwami gave a loud yawn. "Me? What can I do when you buy so much cheese? Don't you know how fast it can go bad?"

A deadpan expression greeted him. "...You eat smelly, spoiled cheese Plagg."

Plagg stuck his nose in the air, gingerly cradling his beloved camembert against his body. "Its not spoiled, its exquisite."

Shaking his head, Adrien rolled over onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head, absently daydreaming.

Plagg chose to fill the silence then. "You don't understand Adrien, camembert is the love of my life!"

Adrien snickered when his kwami levitated in the air, dramatically holding a piece of camembert in the air. "It's the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning, the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep in the evening!" Plagg floated left and right as he did his monologue, unaware of his holder chuckling at him. 

"It occupies my thought every minute of the day and as soon as we're apart, I miss my precious camembert so much! We've had so many moments together! We went through thick and thin! It was camembert and I! Us against the world!" Plagg raised his paw in the air, the other holding the piece of diary tucked into his side.

Just then, something clicked in Adrien's brain.

'You and me against the world m'lady!' 

'Ladybug and Chat Noir are always a team!'

Moments he spent with Ladybug resurfaced in Adrien's mind like a movie, a movie he never grew tired of watching. 

One scene that stuck out to him since months ago was when he once stuck around longer than usual at his and Ladybug's meeting spot.

It was right after patrol, he had time to kill, he didn't think he would've seen what he had that night.

When he as Chat Noir had stretched after a playful rooftop chase with his lady, he spotted something flashing from the alleyway between the two buildings he stood on.

Taking out his baton and moving low to the roof in case it was a villain, he sneaked close to the edge of the roof to investigate, but what he found instead surprised him in a different way.

It was Marinette.

Talking to Tikki.

If there hadn't been that incident where Ladybug and him both had switched their Miraculous, he was sure he wouldn't even know it was Tikki Marinette was talking to. But the least he could've been sure of was that was a kwami and Marinette was talking to Ladybug's kwami-

"Good job today Tikki." He watched as Marinette retrieved a cookie from the purse she always carried around and fed it to the little goddess, scratching her cheek gently.

Tikki giggled, entirely too comfortable with the interaction to be their first time meeting. "You did a good job too Marinette! You should get home and rest."

Marinette had laughed and slowly moved out of the alley. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Chat Noir is bound to be home already and lounging somewhere on a bookshelf." 

He huffed in indignation, he did not normally 'lounge around' on shelves. That had been once and Ladybug never stopped teasing him for it.

Wait.

Ladybug!

Marinette was-

He had hidden behind a chimney and had slapped his mouth closed in case he would scream or squeal, whichever came first. He couldn't believe it.

His lady was his princess!

Ladybug was Marinette!

Marinette was Ladybug! The love of his life! Both loves of his life!

It had been at that point that made Adrien think. 

And Plagg's words struck a chord.

The kwami continued his monologue, oblivious to his holder's inner musings. "The pain I feel of being apart can't be described, no matter how many languages you humans invent, you can never invent a language for love! That's how important cheese is to me Adrien, but I don't expect you to understand." Plagg sniffed dramatically, sobbing into his cheese while he discreetly munched on it. 

Adrien shot up in bed, startling Plagg causing him to fall on the soft bedding. "Hey!"

"I...love her."

Plagg looked up from inspecting his cheese for scratches. "What?"

"I love her."

Plagg rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know loverboy. You love Ladybug, the love of your life." 

Adrien suddenly grabbed Plagg in his hands and stared into his soul. "Marinette! I love Marinette! I love Ladybug! Them both! Because they're the same! Marinette is the girl behind the mask that I love Plagg!"

His kwami's eyes widened in fear. "No wait, Adrien, what we saw on the rooftop that one night, that was- Tikki was- Tikki talks to a lot of humans, you know?"

His kwami's poor attempt was dwarfed by Adrien's unadulterated glee. "It's alright Plagg! I know, you don't have to lie to me. I know!"

Plagg yelped when he was flung in the air and caught again by Adrien, clinging onto the boy's hand in fear of being thrown into the air again.

"I can't believe it! Ladybug, m'lady and Marinette, my princess - they're the same! Plagg, do you know what this means?!"

"...Err...that uh, Ladybug's your classmate?"

Adrien shook his head, green eyes sparkling. "No! It means I have to tell Marinette how I feel!"

Plagg was unceremoniously dumped back on the bed, rolling around until a big block of cheese stopped his descent. "Adrien! Where are you going?"

Adrien was already running for the door. "I have to con-" he froze just as his hand landed on the doorknob. "-confess...to Marinette..." he glanced at his kwami. "Plagg?"

"What?"

"....What if she rejects me?"

The kwami's eyes nearly fell out of his sockets. "Are you serious?"

Adrien fidgeted nervously with his hands, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just-I didn't- I never confessed to a girl before and- I never confessed to someone as amazing as Marinette! What if she doesn't like me back? Ladybug said she loves another boy! What if she's dating Luka? She never said anything but I saw her at their band practice and the way he smiles at her is the way I want to smile at her and she blushes when she's with him and they ice skate together and how could someone as awesome as Marinette like someone like-"

Plagg flew up to his holder's face and smashed Adrien's cheeks together. "Breathe!"

Adrien froze, lips squished like a fish. "Pwapfh?"

The kwami sighed. Kids these days. "I'm pretty sure bakery girl isn't dating anyone. And I really doubt she doesn't feel the same, Adrien."

Nervous green eyes bore into Plagg's ancient soul. "How can you be so sure Plagg?"

Plagg refrained from counting all the moments he witnessed, while transformed and as a kwami, of pigtails girl breaking her back to act normal around her very obvious crush on his owner. "...Kwami's intuition. Anyway, why don't you uh...practice?"

Adrien tilted his head to the side. "...Practice?"

Plagg slapped his face. "The confession."

"Plagg, you're a genius!" Adrien scratched under the cat god's chin and received an appreciative purr in return. "But not here, Nathalie or father might overhear me."

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

"I can do this." Adrien paced back and forth, taking deep breaths. "I can do this. I saw this in movies. I can do this."

Adrien exhaled loudly and then dropped onto one knee, red rose poised in the air. "My lady, my princess, if I could I would take the stars from the skies and gift them to you, not that you would need them, because the whole galaxy is in your eyes already." 

"No, no, no, that's too cheesy!" Adrien stood up and tapped his knuckles against the side of his head. "Technically, I could do that as Astrocat, but I'm not sure how well Ladybug-Marinette would take that, would that be abusing my powers?" 

Rubbing his chin, Adrien cleared his throat. "My sweet Marinette, from the day we shared that umbrella under the rain in front of school, you made me realize what romance was like in real life, but more importantly, you made me realize the importance of having a good friend." Adrien stood frozen in the park, sighing heavily. "That's not good either!"

~~~~~~~

"I don't really know Tikki, do you think Adrien might like it?" the girl clutched the new, yet to be released, song of Jagged Stone in her hands, personally signed by the musician. She knew Adrien liked him too, but would he think she was weird for gifting him this? 

Tikki smiled encouragingly at her owner. "I'm sure he will love it Marinette! Then you can finally ask him to eat ice-cream with you!"

The girl sighed, staring up at the sky in defeat as she walked. "I don't know Tikki, I doubt Adrien would notice me that way. Besides, I think Kagami and him are an I-wuah!" Marinette's foot slammed against the little protruding rock, probably kicked away from the park onto the sidewalk and fell over on her knees. "Ouch!" 

Tikki quickly flew down to inspect her friend. "Marinette, are you okay?"

Marinette winced. "I'm fine Tikki-"

"Argh! No! That's terrible! She'll think I want to kidnap her!" a very familiar voice echoed from the park, one that automatically made Marinette's heart skip a beat.

"W-Wait, is that- am I dreaming again?" forgetting about her fall, Marinette speedcrawled into the nearest bush, bluebell eyes scanning the entirety of the park before they landed on one figure.

It was Adrien.

Tikki hovered near her holder, also watching Adrien. "Look, its Adrien."

"Yeah, but what is he doing out here?" if she recalled correctly, he was supposed to be studying in his room by now for the chemistry test next week.

"Shh." Tikki ushered her to hide deeper in the bush, keenly watching the way Adrien's arms flailed about and he paced back and forth.

"Let's try this. My dearest lady and princess, as your humble knight and number one fan, it is with great honor that I gift you my heart."

Marinette's mouth opened in a scream but Tikki quickly snapped it shut. "Marinette, shh!"

"Mffphh!" Marinette's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates, moving back and forth between Adrien and Tikki.

"No! That's not good either! I'm not giving her an award!" The teen model sighed heavily, moving to sit down on the nearest bench. "I'll never be able to confess to her like this. She's so brave and strong, she can do anything. She's so amazing, what are the chances of her even liking me back?"

Marinette's expression softened. "He must be talking about Kagami..." Tikki nearly dislocated her head when she turned around to look at the girl.

"But Mari-"

A sigh. "I should've known, I guess his encounters with Chat Noir might've rubbed off on him and now he's calling Kagami princess too." 

Tikki flew in front of Marinette's field of vision. "No wait, Marinette, that's not what he-!"

Marinette smiled sadly, slowly standing up. "I think Adrien might need help with confessing his feelings for Kagami."

Just before her head peaked over the cover of the bushes, the name that fell from Adrien's lips froze Marinette to the spot. 

"Marinette..." his gaze was sad as it looked over the trees and into the sky. "You're so amazing, you're the strongest, smartest, bravest person I know, you're everyday Ladybug even when you aren't transformed, how could I hope for you to love me like I love you?" 

Tikki watched the way Marinette remained very still, her eyes unmoving as they locked on Adrien in the distance.

It was now or never.

Gathering all the strength she had, Tikki rammed into Marinette's side, pushing the startled girl out in the open.

With a surprised yelp, Marinette fell out of the bushes and onto her butt.

Her graceful landing made Adrien jump and his eyes widened when he saw her. "M-Marinette!?"

She felt heat rush to her cheeks at being caught spying on him, even more when he jogged to her side and helped her to her feet.

Why was Adrien so nice to her even after she spied on him confessing to her-

"Marinette? Marinette are you alright?" He waved a hand in front of the dazed girl's face, watching the way her eyes came back into focus and stared up into him. "Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"

The warmth from his hands on her shoulders made her squeak, she didn't even notice Adrien's blush at the sound before she took off in the opposite direction.

"Wh- wait Marinette! Where-where are you going!?" Adrien watched the girl sprint out of the park and in the direction of the Seine.

Had she heard him? Had she heard his lousy confessions?

With his heart in his throat and his blood rushing a mile a minute, Adrien uttered two words that never made him tongue tied. "Claws out!" 

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

No, no, no, no, no, no!

She had to have heard wrong! 

Adrien? Liking her back? No, no, no, no!

"Marinette, wait!" Tikki flew faster to keep up with the girl, she was a fast runner when she set her mind to it. "Why are you running away from Adrien? He was about to-"

Marinette violently shook her head, jumping over a trash can. "No, no, no Tikki, I heard it all wrong. Adrien didn't say my name, maybe he got confused and wanted to say 'Kagami' right? Ka-ga-mi. I mean, our names are kinda similar aren't they?" 

"Marinette!"

Marinette nearly tripped again when she heard another familiar voice yell at the top of his lungs her name.

Wait, was that-?

"Chat Noir?!" 

Sure enough, the black clad figure was jumping away from street to street, following her direction on his baton.

"Marinette!" He yelled again, waving his free arm frantically to catch her attention.

Had there been an akuma? Her akuma alert app didn't ring! Why was Chat Noir looking for her? Could he need something? Did he need love advice for Ladybug?

Marinette continued running, now close to the bridge where Andre always sold his ice cream at. "Sorry kitty! I dont have time to play with you today!"

She couldn't hear Chat Noir's muttered frustrated curses, nor did she see him speed up and take a giant leap, before he landed on the ground and took off running on all fours after her. 

Tikki hid back inside Marinette's purse, hanging on for dear life.  

It wasn't until Chat Noir's next yell made her stop in her tracks. "My lady wait!"

Standing frozen on the bridge, Marinett heartily turned around, just in time to watch Chat Noir try to catch his breath. 

He looked....angry? 

The cat stalked towards her with purpose in his steps before his placed his hands on her shoulders like Adrien did before and- "Why did you run away from me, m'lady?!"

Questions swam in Marinette's mind, questions that made her think she wasn't as sane as she thought she was.

Wait.

"Run away? From you? M'lady? Chat Noir, did you hit your head somewhere?" Marinette blinked up at him quizzically, sweating at Chat Noir possibly knowing her identity.

But how? She was always so careful! He never could've figured it out! 

The grip on her shoulders tightened. "Marinette!" He bared his teeth, and in a delirious moment, Marinette almost wished he would bite her.

To snap her out of her daydream!

"Eep!" 

"Claws in!"

"Claws in? What are you- A-A-" Marinette's breath caught in her throat and she was face to face with a displeased Adrien Agreste. 

His blonde hair which was normally perfectly combed was now messy and disheveled and Marinette could actually see the resemblance between Adrien and Chat Noir who stood in front of her two seconds ago!

"Wait, Adrien, what are- why are-? Chat Noir was here and you- you are now here!" 

She was going insane. Tikki should send her help.

Marinette.exe stopped working.

Adrien's expression softened and he sighed heavily. "Marinette," he gazed at her with such fondness and exasperation that she almost felt it was too intimate. "I know."

He didn't even have to elaborate. She was figured out. He knew her identity.

Her shoulder slumped. "But-But how? I was always so careful and- ugh! This isn't right! Now we have to give up our miraculous! Do you have any idea what Master Fu would think if he still had his memories? But I'm the guardian now! Does that mean I take both our miraculous? Would I just keep mine then? Where would I put them? Do I give us different miraculous? Will we still be heroes? What about Hawkmoth-"

Two warm hands found her cheeks and her attention immediately shifted to the forest green of Adrien's lovely eyes, which stared at nothing but at her. "Marinette, please listen to me m'lady." The sound of her nickname strangely calmed her and she exhaled the breath she'd been holding, some of the tension leaving her body.

Adrien took a deep breath, fingers flexing on her shoulders from frayed nerves before he finally looked at the girl of his dreams in determination. "I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"I had these feelings for you ever since I gave you my umbrella and you were the first person to make me laugh again after mom disappeared. You were the one who was always so kind to me and did her best to help everyone all the time. What I told you at the picnic was nothing but the truth: you are our everyday Ladybug, you always were to me. And I'm so happy to know that the hero and the girl I fell in love with were one and the same! I know I made a lot of mistakes as Adrien and Chat Noir, and that I disappointed you often, but I want to make up for it in any way I can and be a better partner for you as Ladybug. My only question is if you would let me be a better partner for you as Marinette, too?" 

The sincerity in his gaze stole the breath from her lungs and Marinette couldn't help but tear up at the heartfelt confession that was meant for her. 

"Y-Yes! A thousand times yes kitty, my prince!" She fell into his arms with a cry of joy and Adrien fell to the ground from the force of her hug. Despite the small wince of pain, they both laughed in joy, cradling each-other's faces tenderly.

Adrien rubbed his nose against his lady's and smiled. "I love you Marinette."

The smile on Marinette's face was the warmest Adrien ever had ever seen. "I love you too Adrien."

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 1, Episode 1: Wolf Moon (Part Two)

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (eventually)

P.S. Stiles and Y/N finally talk! Yay! 

                                              ————————

I nearly jumped out of moms car as she skidded to a stop outside Beacon Hills High School. Somehow, I was late on my first day. Not a good first impression. She started her new job at the hospital today, too, but she didn’t have to be in until around noon.

“Good luck honey!” She called out and I sent a dismissive wave over my shoulder.

I slammed the passenger door shut and walked briskly toward the school. I was supposed to meet the principal out here for some reason, so I found a bench to sit on while I waited. I plopped down and immediately noticed a girl sitting on the bench across from me, talking on the phone. She had long dark hair that fell over her shoulders in loose waves and dark brown eyes. She looked tall and slender as she crossed her legs and ruffled through the beige bag beside her.

“Mom, a call on my first day is a little overdoing it.” She huffed and continued searching in her purse. “Everything but a pen. Oh, my God. I didn’t actually forget a pen. Okay. I gotta go. Love ya.”

Just then, a man wearing a grey suit approached us. He stopped in front of her and smiled politely at us both.

“Sorry for the wait.” He greeted.

I stood and slowly made my way toward both of them, assuming that she was another new student getting a chauffeur to her first class, too. She pulled her sleeves over her hands and sent me a timid smile. I returned the favor.

“Allison, meet Y/N. Y/N, Allison.” The man started walking and we followed silently. “So, you were saying San Francisco isn’t where you grew up?”

I figured he was talking to Allison since I’ve never lived in San Francisco nor spoken to him before.

“No, but we lived there for more than a year. Which is unusual for my family.”

That piqued my interest.  

“Y/N, I take it you recently moved here as well?” The principal’s eyes met mine and I nodded. 

“We move a lot, too.” Allison looked relieved not to be the only one and I had to admit that I was glad too. It was nice to know someone who could relate to my weird upbringing, even if we didn’t end up being friends. 

“Well, hopefully Beacon Hills will be both of your last stops for awhile.” Our tour guide said cheerfully with a grin.

He led us into the school and through the halls casually. They were empty since we were late, and everyone was in class already. I glanced around, noting that it looked utterly normal. Normal was good. Normal was safe. Despite that revelation, my heart rate picked up and I wiped my sticky palms on my jeans. I always hated starting over. It made me incredibly nervous every time.

The principal made a right turn and opened a wooden classroom door. He stepped inside and both Allison and I followed. We must have the same first period. She looked even more nervous than I felt. She was constantly fidgeting with her hands and wasn’t making eye contact with anyone as we stood before the class. I, on the other hand, let my gaze sweep over the room as he introduced us.

“Class, these are our new students, Allison Argent and Y/N Y/L/N. Please do your best to make them feel welcome.”

He left quickly, leaving us to find empty seats. Allison instantly started walking toward the back of the room, probably not wanting to be the center of attention anymore, but I hesitated as I caught sight of two familiar people. It took me a second, since I’d only seen them in the dark, but those two boys were definitely the same ones from last night.

The one with shaggy hair, Scott, was staring at Allison with a small, dopey smile. His friend with the buzzed hair was glaring at the back of his head, as if he could sense that he was thinking something stupid. He, once again, was wearing too many layers. He wore a t-shirt, a grey zip-up hoodie, and a black jacket. I figured it must just be a style choice. 

I forced my legs to move when I noticed that Allison was already sliding into the chair behind Scott. I made my way to the only other free desk, which was a row over behind his friend. Once I was seated, I let my bag fall to the floor beside me and tried to relax. That had been pretty painless.

I fished inside my bag for a pencil and watched as Scott turned to Allison. He handed her a pen and she took it with a quiet, “thanks”. My brows furrowed. How did he know she needed a pen? She’d said she forgot one while outside, but she had barely just sat down. He had no way of knowing.

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s Metamorphosis on page 133.” The teacher announced, and my attention snapped back to the front of the room.

Well, that was weird.

                                                  ————————

The bell rang to dismiss us for the day and I rose to my feet quickly. My first day hadn’t been awful. I’d chatted with a few classmates and hadn’t felt too lost in my classes. Sometimes it was hard moving from place to place, because not every state teaches on the same schedule. 

I glanced down at the piece of paper I’d written my locker number and combination on and made my way toward it. It was only when I started dialing in the numbers that I noticed Allison was standing beside me at her own locker. 

“Following me?” I joked, and she laughed lightly.

“Hey, us new kids have to stick together, right?” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and concentrated on opening her lock.

She popped it open and glanced across the hall. I followed her gaze and rolled my eyes when I saw that Scott was staring dreamily at her. He was leaning against his own locker, looking like a lost puppy. She sent him a timid smile in return and turned back toward me. 

A sudden voice from behind had us both turning around. “That jacket is absolutely killer.”

The compliment had come from a petit girl with strawberry blonde hair and an outfit to die for. She was wearing a red, white, and blue plaid mini skirt with a royal blue sweater tucked inside. Her beautiful green eyes were expertly framed by subtle makeup. She looked more like a model than a high school student.

“Where’d you get it?” She prodded when Allison didn’t respond right away. 

She hesitated for another moment. “My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco.”

The girl’s gaze moved in my direction and she looked me up and down. I prepared myself for the worst but was surprised when her eyes lit up in excitement.

“Those shoes!” She gasped. I looked down at my ankle boots then back up to her. “Is your mom a fashion buyer too?”

“No,” I chuckled, relieved that she was actually being nice to me. I didn’t have a great track record with the popular crowd. “She’s a nurse.” 

“And...you are my new best friends.” She smirked as Allison and I shared a quick, uncertain glance. This girl was nice, sure, but also a bit over the top for my liking.  

Just then, a guy walked up and put his arm around our “new best friend”, who I realized still hadn’t formally introduced herself.

“Hey, Jackson.” They shared a brief kiss before both of their gazes were on us again. Well, at least I know his name.

He was admittedly a very attractive guy. His blond hair was short and spiked at his forehead, and he was clearly muscular beneath his thin t-shirt and plaid button up. He even had a strong jaw and striking turquoise eyes, to boot.

“So, this weekend there’s a party.” The girl crossed her arms and leaned back against Jackson’s chest.

“A party?” Allison echoed with a swallow.

“Yeah, Friday night. You should come.” Jackson chimed in, smirking devilishly.

“Oh, I can’t. It’s family night this Friday. Thanks for asking.” She quickly brushed them off. It was clear that she was lying. To me, at least.

All of their eyes moved in my direction and I glanced between them as I weighed my options.

“Sure. I’m in.” I shrugged.

I had never been a big partier, but it wouldn’t hurt to socialize a little. I’d never been invited to something on my first day at a new school, so I took it as a good sign. I wanted to make friends here. I wanted normalcy. And fun. 

“We have tryouts in a few minutes.” Jackson suddenly announced. It took me a moment to realize that he was inviting us to watch. “That is, if you don’t have anything else...”

“Well, I was going to...”

“I actually have...”

We were both cut off as the girl gripped each of our wrists lightly.

“Perfect.” She smirked and urged us with her eyes to comply. “You’re coming.”

                                                ———————

I took a seat next to Allison and Lydia—yes, I finally asked her name—in the stands, rubbing my hands together against the chilly late afternoon air. I was slightly surprised to learn that we’d be watching lacrosse. I just assumed the tryouts would be for football.

I watched as Allison and Scott stared at each other from across the field very obviously and wondered what their deal was. It was almost like they had a history or something.

“Who’s that?” She suddenly asked, her eyes still on him.

“Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?” Lydia’s tone was slightly judgmental, giving her feelings away easily. She clearly didn’t like to associate with anyone outside her clique. 

“He’s in my English class.” Allison muttered, seemingly embarrassed to have asked.

I saw him cock his head to the side out on the field, almost as if he could hear us. I narrowed my eyes as the coach blew his whistle and Scott covered his ears like it physically hurt him.

“His name is Scott.” I said without thinking about how I shouldn’t know that.

Both girls looked at me in question and I shrugged with a sheepish smile. “I’m observant.”

They easily accepted my answer and turned their attention back to the tryouts. I winced as the poor guy took a ball to the face. After that one hit, he did surprisingly well. He caught each pass that came his way without effort. After Scott caught another round of balls, Jackson shoved his way to the front of the line, looking pissed off.

He threw as hard as he could, jumping a couple feet in the air as his body twisted from the force of it. We all watched with baited breath as the ball flung toward Scott. The stands erupted into cheers the second he caught it. His friend with the buzzed hair jumped up and waved his hands excitedly. Even Lydia stood to clap her hands.

“That’s my friend!” The guy shouted. Jeez, I really need to learn his name already.

Lydia cheered again and sent Jackson a pointed look. It was as if she were scolding him from afar and saying, “I’m only dating you because you’re the best player, so shape up.” He glared back, his nostrils flaring in anger.

                                                   —————————

“I made a complete and total fool of myself.”

I rolled my eyes and shut my locker with a quiet click. Allison was freaking out over nothing.

“He asked to you to go to the party with him.” I reassured her, leaning against the cool metal while I waited for her to gather her things. She had graciously offered me a ride home from school since my mom was working until late tonight.

“Probably out of pity or something.” She sighed and shut her locker.

She was nervous that she had scared Scott off after rushing into the animal clinic last night with a dog she’d somehow run over. Clearly, it was fine. Despite her “utter hysterics” as she called them, he’d invited her to the party this weekend. That was a good thing. It meant he didn’t care that she was an over emotional dog-hitter.

Speaking of Scott, we were quickly approaching where he stood at his locker. We were still at the end of the now empty hall when Jackson walked up and harshly slammed the metal door shut. On instinct, I grabbed Allison’s arm and dragged her into a nearby classroom.

I moved my head into the hall just enough to see them. She looked at me like I was crazy until I pointed in their direction. She seemed to catch on and ducked down beside me.

“Alright, little man.” Jackson huffed, invading Scott’s personal space. “How about you tell me where you’re getting your juice?”

“Juice?” Allison murmured, and I shushed her. 

“What?” Scott sounded breathless.

“Where are you getting your juice?” Jackson enunciated each word, as if dumbing it down for him to understand.

He hesitated for a long moment. “My mom does all the grocery shopping.”

I had to slap a hand over my mouth to keep my giggle from outing us. I mean, come on. That was so dumb. Allison glared at me for laughing at her crush, but I saw her lips twitching as she fought a smile.

“Now listen, McCall. You’re going to tell me exactly what it is and who you’re buying it from, because there’s no way in hell you’re out there kicking ass in the field like that without some sort of chemical boost.” Jackson spat the words in Scott’s face, sounding incredibly angry. 

“Oh,” Scott’s eyes lit up with recognition. “You mean steroids. Are you on steroids?”

Jackson slammed him into the lockers and both Allison and I jumped in surprise at his aggression. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“You wanna know whats going on with me?” He shoved Jackson away harshly. “You really wanna know? Well, so would I! Because I can see, hear, and smell things that I shouldn’t be able to see, hear, and smell. I do things that should be impossible! I’m sleepwalking three miles into the woods—.”

My shoulders tensed as memories of me doing that exact thing the other night flashed in my mind. He’d been sleepwalking too?

“—and I’m pretty much convinced that I’m totally out of my freaking mind!” He breathed out a heavy sigh and let his head fall back into the lockers.

Allison and I stood completely still, stunned by his words. So he had been listening to her phone call on the first day. That’s how he knew she needed a pen. And he’d heard us again in the stands at tryouts. He’d just confirmed it, he had supernatural abilities. By the sounds of it, they were new, too. But how? 

“You think you’re funny, don’t you, McCall? I know you’re hiding something. I’m gonna find out what it is. I don’t care how long it takes.” Jackson slammed his fist against the lockers and stalked off.

I shut the door to the classroom we were hiding in and leaned against it, my head swimming with information. My eyes caught Allison’s and she looked back at me, slightly terrified.

“What. The. Hell. Was. That.”

                                                    ————————

I shifted my red solo cup between hands and leaned against one of the thick columns on either side of the pool. Lydia really knew how to throw a party. The outdoor space was packed with dancing bodies. Music thumped loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood. It looked like everyone was having the time of their lives, my friends included.

Scott and Allison were dancing a few feet away from me. On the car ride home, we’d decided to investigate his weird outburst another time. It was just too much to deal with right now. It appeared she’d moved on from it already as they got progressively closer. Lydia and Jackson were grinding against the column beside me, although she was glaring in Allison’s direction with a hint of jealousy, which was weird.

Just then, someone bumped into my shoulder, causing my drink to spill down my arm. I jumped back, trying to keep it from going all over my clothes, and glared at the perpetrator next to me.

“Ah, sorry.” He winced before turning away. I rolled my eyes at his quick departure. Great, just great. It was bad enough that I was fifth-wheeling at this thing. Now I was cold and sticky.

Surprisingly, the guy returned a moment later with a handful of napkins. Way too many napkins. I let him dab at my arm for a few seconds until he was satisfied that it was dry. He glanced up at me, and I realized it was Scott’s spaz of a friend. 

Now that I was less than a foot away from him, I noticed how adorable he really was. His boyish features were littered with small freckles and his thin lips were pulled into a sheepish smile. His light brown eyes, the color of molten caramel, were warm and kind.

Those eyes flickered around my face before landing back on my own.

“Stiles...” He mumbled, sounding breathless.

“What?” I wasn’t sure if he’d just sneezed or had a stroke or what, but that was definitely not a real word.

From the corner of my eye I saw Scott suddenly wince in front of Allison and stagger away from her. She watched him disappear into the crowd, looking both confused and concerned. His friend called his name and immediately ran after him, ending whatever weird conversation we were starting.

Just then, I felt a dark presence behind me. My heart started racing and my shoulders tensed as an ominous feeling overwhelmed my senses. I turned slowly to see a tall man in a leather jacket staring straight at me. 

That is definitely not a teenager.

He took a step forward and I took one back.

“You know, you shouldn’t make a habit of trespassing on private property.” His voice was deep with warning. He stared straight into my soul and I gulped. 

My brows furrowed in confusion. “Excuse me?”

I was suddenly missing the goofy boy’s company. Before the creepy guy could say anything else, Allison appeared at my side with tears in her eyes.

“I wanna go home.” She sounded incredibly upset that Scott had just up and left her. I couldn’t really blame her, either. He was acting really weird. “Who’s this?”

“My name is Derek.” Creepy guy shoved his hands into the pockets of his thick jacket. “I’m a friend of Scott’s.”

I eyed him carefully. I’d never seen the two talk and he looked way too old to be friends with a sophomore in high school. The guy practically exuded dishonesty.

“Need a ride?”

I was about to politely decline when Allison nodded enthusiastically. She just wanted to get out of here, and since we both drove with other people we were kind of stranded. She started walking away with him so I had no other choice but to follow along, I didn’t like it one bit. My stomach was churning uncomfortably at the thought of us being alone with this guy. 

Whatever happened to stranger danger, anyway?

Although the ride was a little awkward, we both made it home safely that night. Little did we know what was lurking just around the corner. 

Episode 1, Part One     Episode 2, Part One

[fever-dreamer97]

Let’s Try This Again

Chapter 3: Pride Can Make Regret

—————————————————————————

"Damnit! I never got to finish! Do you think Aizawa-sensei might give us some free time in homeroom?" Denki whined at Hanta while Mina kept her eyes on her phone, her thumbs rapidly texting non-stop.

"Dude, just jump into that grave already..." Eijirou says, leaning forward around Hanta to talk with Denki.

Eventually, the group left the coffee shop and is now walking side-by-side up the pathway to their school's entrance. The majority of them didn't notice Katsuki's change of behavior when he returned with his coffee. They assumed he was probably annoyed and pissed off with their romance discussion and criticizing his love life that he didn't want to fool with them anymore.

Now, Kirishima Eijirou wasn't the smartest guy in the world. His grades were okay at best, and he is a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to reading the room. But Eijirou knew Katsuki the best. After all, the guy was like a brother to him.

He has seen Katsuki through his best and his worst in just this last year, likewise for Katsuki witnessing his moments. As a man, he must make sure his friends are okay. So while the group chatted mindlessly, Eijirou tries to keep a close eye on Katsuki.

But although he is worried about him, Eijirou doesn't want to pry and make Katsuki shut down even more than he already has. All he could do right now is just let Katsuki come to him...which for all Eijirou knows, could take three months. Thank goodness when it comes to either one of his friends, Eijirou has a patience level that a saint could envy.

The gang finally makes their way through the front doors and split off to their lockers. Eijirou and Katsuki are only a couple of doors down from each other, so he jumps at the one-on-one opportunity to talk with his best friend.

"Oi, Bakugo. If you need to talk or anything, just let me know, bro," He says as the both of them open their lockers. He watches Katsuki tense up before he puts on a scowl.

"Hah? What the hell are you talking about, dumbass?" He snaps.

"Just wanted to offer. You seem a bit...unhinged since the shop."

"...Shut up," Katsuki says. He takes off his outdoor shoes and puts them inside his locker before slamming it shut with more force than needed. He then drops his indoor shoes to the ground and slips them on his feet. He still keeps his gaze on the floor as he walks away and leaves Eijirou behind.

Eijirou half-heartedly sighs before he switches out his shoes and follows suit behind Bakugo. All he could do is throw the line and hope the fish takes the bait at this point.

——————————————————————————

Here's the one thing about Class 2-A: They are closer than just high school students who happen to be in the same class. Each of them has a special bond in one way or another. All of the guys get along with each other, and all of the girls see each other as sisters. They never really have any ill-will or tension in this tight-knit class.

Well, except there was their classmate, Mineta Minoru. He kept harassing and being disrespectful to the girls in the class by making sexist or perverted comments and trying to peek up their skirts when he had the chance. Due to that, he wasn't very popular with the rest of the class. But otherwise, the class were very caring of each other.

"Attention everyone! Homeroom will start in five minutes! Be sure to have all of your materials ready and finish all discussions as quickly as possible!" announced class president Iida Tenya as he stood with authority at the front of the class at the teacher's podium, doing his signature air hand-chops.

Everyone doesn't pay mind to his declaration and carry-ons with their conversations.

Katsuki feels a stab of irritation at Four-Eye's loud nagging but doesn't yell back. He just wants to get this school day over with and go home. Thank fuck that he has gym today because he gravely needs to let off some steam. Hopefully, he gets to work with the heavy bag today, so when he pummels it, he can imagine it being that pathetic shitstain. Fucking bastard can burn in hell.

"Hai, hai, Tenya-Kun. Be sure to do so as well." Round Face fondly says as she sits with her friends, Asui and Tooru, and they all giggled at the president's overdramatic antics. Katsuki's sneer grows darker at her words and affectionate tone.

Ochako and Tenya have been dating around the start of last fall, and the two are still in their honeymoon phase. Katsuki gets disgusted by their displays on a regular daily basis. They weren't that extreme due to Tenya's mindset of 'keeping inappropriate conduct outside of the classroom.'

Instead, they were those subtle, little quips like nicknames for each other, playing with each other's hair when they thought no one was looking, or holding hands underneath tables. For some reason, Katsuki's gut burned when he would see them doing these types of things. Why? He doesn't know. He just hated it. So when it happens, he makes a point to call them out on it. But right now, he just wanted to be left alone.

"ALRIGHT! CLASS WILL NOW START! EVERYONE TAKE YOUR SEATS!" Tenya yells from the front of the class.

"Dude, we've been over this since last year. You're the only one still standing..." Hanta comments. Most of the class nods in agreement, each of them in their assigned seat.

Tenya tenses up and curses under his breath before he rushes back to his desk. He mutters under his breath, feeling slightly embarrassed at his overzealous display.

Katsuki hears Ochako laughs with a softness that makes his insides clench together. He watches from the corner of his eye over at her and Four-Eyes as she reaches up from her desk to rub at his back. Tenya relaxes under her touch and softly smiles before she takes her hand back and sits down at her desk again.

Damnit, why the fuck does that one moment make Katsuki want to punch the fucking wall in? How in the hell can someone get joy from that? It was just a fucking touch on the back. Tch, whatever.

Just then, the classroom doors open up, and there walks in a man with long black hair, slight stubble, and irritated eyes. "Good morning..." he lazily drawls, making his way to his podium. "Good morning, Aizawa-sensei!" Most of the class chimes out.

"Ah, good. It took you no time at all to shut up. Now, stay that way for roll call."

At that, Katsuki moves his gaze to look outside of the window next to his desk and immediately thinks back again from this morning and that pathetic, greasy weasel.

Back when we were nine, he told some girl to go off herself and you know what? She disappeared the very next day! Weird, right?

Maybe she actually went and did what he said? It wouldn't surprise me, I mean he did bully and beat her up every single day...

Maybe you should do all of us a favor and make it permanent. Just head on up to the roof and take that one-step shortcut. It would help all of us if you just didn't exist!

Katsuki just keeps his gaze on the blowing trees outside of the window.

—————————————————————————

Deku was true to her word. Her desk was empty and nobody batted an eye at her absence. They all just chatted among themselves about random topics like last's night homework, movies, video games, and other things. Katsuki didn't pay mind to any of it, even with his lackeys chirping around him like birds.

Damn that Deku. How dare she talked back to him like that yesterday? Once she's back tomorrow, he'll have to strengthen her back out again. She'll know better than to look down on him.

But then out of nowhere, a group of girls walks up to his desk. "Neh, Bakugo-san, is it true what you said to Deku yesterday?" one of them asks.

A chill went down his spine at the question, but he plays it off as cool. "Yeah, so what? Not like she doesn't deserve it. That loser should have never existed in the first place. I just gave her some friendly advice."

Why did it feel like knives digging into his skin with every word he says? The girls slightly gasped before they mutter among themselves. Katsuki's lackeys tense up with the topic before they laugh uncomfortably at their leader's words.

"When she comes back tomorrow, she'll know where her place is again, Katsuki." One of them states. Katsuki smirks. "I know that, you idiot. No one talks back to me and gets away with it. Especially that pathetic, useless Deku!" He laughs. The group of girls giggles before they take their leave.

"Alright! Time to sit down and be quiet!" The teacher suddenly yells.

All of the nine-year-olds get into their seats as roll call was taken. Katsuki just taps his fingers impatiently at the monotone voice. Soon enough, the roll call was finished. But before they started their school day, the teacher looked slightly gloomy and said that he had an announcement to make.

"Eh...I don't know if any of you already know this, but as of today, Midoriya-san will no longer be a classmate of ours."

Katsuki's heart stops at the words. His now wide eyes snap to the teacher in disbelief. What did he just say? Some slightly gasp in disbelief as well over the news.

"It seems that...well, actually I'm not at liberty to say why she is no longer here, but just wanted to let you know in case some of you were fond of her. Very sad, but she will be missed. Okay, now get out your workbooks and turn to page 34."

At those words, Katsuki just felt colder and colder with how he phrased the explanation. Not at liberty to say could mean something too dire for a child to know...oh God, no. Katsuki's heart beats faster and faster at the thought.

Around him, his classmates appear to have the same line of thought as they whisper among themselves and frantically looking over at him.

"Do you think she-“

"She might have!"

"I mean, he did tell her, right?"

"I heard him tell her to do it!”

"Whoa, Katsuki killed Izumi."

That last statement shattered something inside him and Katsuki could no longer think or act clearly.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S GONE?! WHERE DID SHE GO?!" He screams before getting up and slamming his hands down on the desk.

The teacher was taken back by this display and quickly melts into an expression of anger.

"Mr. Bakugo, you calm down this minute before I send you to the principal's office. Do not ever raise your voice at me in my classroom." He reprimands.

Katsuki clicks his tongue before pressing him more. "Why is she gone? Huh? Where did that loser go?"

The teacher just sighs before giving him a downcast look. "I understand that you're upset about your friend, but let's not speak ill-will towards her okay? As her reasoning, I already told you. I'm not at liberty to say. And to be honest, it's probably best for you if you don't know why."

"But-"

"Mr. Bakugo! Don't make this harder on yourself. Sit down!"

Katsuki just drops back into the chair and burns his desk with his stare.

There's just no way. There's just no way. There's just no way. Tears slightly burn into the back of his eyes. No, no, no. The judgemental stares of the class drill into Katsuki as the whispers continue around him.

"Mr. Bakugo? Do you need to go to the bathroom and collect yourself?" The teacher offers.

Katsuki doesn't answer but keeps his eyes, now dripping with tears, on the desk.

"Mr. Bakugo? Mr. Bakugo? Bakugo? Bakugo..."

———————————————————————

"BAKUGO!"

Katsuki snaps back to the present at Aizawa's rare loud voice. He looks away from the window to see everyone staring confusedly at him and Aizawa looking irritated.

"Welcome back. When I say your name, answer me. I don't get paid to watch you daydream."

Katsuki blinks before his cheeks turn slightly red at the embarrassment.

"Tch. Whatever."

Aizawa rolls his eyes and continues the rest of the roll call without any more issues. Katsuki bits his lip as he tries to will his embarrassment down.

"Psst!" He suddenly hears.

He looks over to the noise, which came from none other than Shitty Hair. He gives a look to Katsuki that says 'let's talk at lunch.'

Katsuki grits his teeth but doesn't stop his rough nod at Eijirou. He needs to talk to somebody about this before he runs headfirst into a brick wall.

Now, he's praying that the heavy bag will be up for grabs today.

[haiqyu]

"I've finally found you. "

Kuroo Tetsurou X reader

Soulmate and Reincarnation au! : one gets flashbacks of their past lives when they reach the age of 10

Warning: ancient Chinese history kind of?? angst??? Fluff??? I have no clue

Sorry for the grammar and spelling mistakes! It kinda sucks so-

Edit: Please don't read this- I did this at 1am- im not proud 😭😭

♡♡♡♡

At the age of 9, I've remembered my classmates being so excited to see what kinds of flashbacks they might get. I was no exception. I really wanted to know how my soulmate looks like. Always dreaming about being married to a perfect man and having a perfect life, I was so happy to be reaching the age of 10 soon. Multiple thoughts ran through my small 9 year old brain.

Is his hot? Is he smart? Is he cute? Does he looks cute? Will he love me back? What if something goes wrong?

I sighed as I laid my head on the classroom table. I closed my eyes and continued to day dream about the perfect man that is going to be in my life soon.

♡♡♡♡

Please stop.

Stop.

Please.

I beg of you.

STOP

I woke up from my nightmare. Drenched in sweat, I sat up on my bed and tried to calm my racing heart. I have just reached 10 years old a few hours ago. I've heard from my parents and friends that flashbacks from the past can come in the form of dreams. That was not the sweat dreams that I've expected.

My whole body dirty from being dragged from the ground. My long white gown being drenched with blood, sweat, tears and mud. My legs and hands being bloody from the chains. My torso bloody from being whipped with a thin long stick. My tears ran down my face continuously. I tried to break through the metal chains as I cried for help and forgiveness.

"I didn't do anything wrong! I was framed! Please let me out! I didn't cheat on the emperor! Please... Stop!" I cried out.

My vision blurred from the tears. The metal chains digging into my ankles and wrists. My body being constantly whipped by the stick. Exhaustion ran through my veins. Please stop. I'm tired. It hurts. I beg of you. Stop!

I shut my eyes to stop remembering the flashback but it just continues to run through my eyes. I thought these dreams and flashbacks are suppose to be sweet andthey should give me a hint of who my soul mate will be. Why do I get such horrible and torturous dreams? Why me?

I remembered the pain on my wrists and ankles vividly. It hurts. I didn't care if I was sweaty or not. I curled up on my bed, my forehead resting on knees as I cried myself to sleep. Why me?

♡♡♡♡

I don't want to have a soulmate. I hate it. I hate the feeling. Every day, I had flashbacks and dreams of being tortured. I have enough. My whole body hurts being being tortured even though it's just a flashback.

I was 14 years old. I've always envied my classmates and friends for having such wholesome and cute flashbacks. I've always heard them gushing about their soulmates and their past lives. As they were talking about it, their eyes lit up with happiness and excitement. Some of my schoolmates were lucky as they figured out how their soul mates looked like by the flashbacks. Lucky.

Everytime someone talked about their soulmate, my anger rose. I hated my soulmate. I had enough. Why can't I have nice flashbacks. Why must my flashbacks be about torture and crying? My fist clenched with anger and frustration. I hate this. I was jealous.

I had frequent panic attacks in public due to the stupid flashbacks. I'm embarrassed. Sometimes I feel that my friends and classmates pity me for being like... like that. I don't often speak about my soulmate as Ive literally never seen him in my flashbacks. I hate it. I don't want to have a soulmate anymore.

How do I stop having flashbacks about my soulmate? Do I have to,,, end myself?

♡♡♡♡

I broke out into a cold sweat from a dream again. My heart beat furiously. This is the first time in my 16 years being alive that Ive gotten a sweet and wholesome dream. I'm still in a state of shock. I was expecting to be tortured again in my dreams, as always. However, I dreamt about being in a garden with my soulmate.

Giggling, I smacked his arm playfully. "you're so mean, my king!" I laughed at him.

We were in a flower garden. The place have been decorated with colourful flowered and plants of many species. Butterflies fluttering around the plants and fishes are swimming in the huge pond. Next to the pond was a huge hut. These wooden chairs and tables are crafted out neatly with patterned of flowers and dragons. Having servants around the perimeter to guard us from potential danger, we were sitting together on the huge chair made of the king.

"..., you're so full of shit. Stop teasing me! If you continue teasing me, I'm actually gonna start crying." I smacked his arm once more as he continued to shame me for my height. "Im have an average height, okay. I'm not short! You're just abnormally long!"

"How dare you just insulted the King? I'll put you to the dungeon if you continue to insult me like that," he huffed. "I'm the nicest person in the kingdom."

I rolled my eyes at his comment. "yea but you love me too much to put me into the dungeon. I didn't insult you by the way, I was just speaking the FACTS!" I scoffed.

I took the chance to look at his face, but his face was blurred out. All I notice was his black messy hair that made him look like he just woke up. I reached up to touch his bed hair. I gasped on the inside. "Your hair is so soft. I love it." I smiled and ran my hand through his surprisingly soft hair.

I felt his hands sneak around my waist and he took this chance to pull me even closer to him, if it was possible. "you pull them everytime I ate you out-" He proudly said.

I blushed furiously and tried to cover his mouth to shut him up. "stop!!? Stop!! This is embarrassing! Shhh!!"

He chuckled and I felt my hands being licked. "AHH! STOP! Did you just lick me?? Ew!!!" I wiped my hand on his clothes.

Wait, I didn't notice our clothing. He was wearing some Chinese looking ancient outfit. Ah yes, a 龙袍 (lóng páo: a dragon gown) which had yellow dragon and auspicious patterns embroideries on it. The silk materi made it easier for us to wear in the summer and winter. It kept us cool in the summer and warm the the winter. That so cool. I looked down at myself. I wore loose clothes with long large sleeves. Under the long skirt was a pair of high-heeled clogs with some embroidery on them. There was a scarf wrapped around my arm, which symbolized that I was a noble woman. I ran my hand my my clothed knees. So smooth. For no apparent reason, I felt a sense of nostalgia and my eyes started to water. I felt,,, loved.

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt my hands being grabbed by his rough large hands. I looked up at him with such a loving look on my face. "I love you," I blurted out. I blushed and wondered why did I suddenly say that.

He slowly let go of my hand and gently used that free hand to push my head down on his shoulder. I snuggled closer to him and smelled a faint scent of his cologne. "I love you too, my love." he gave a gentle kiss to my forehead. I really love you, soulmate.

I really enjoyed the dream. I felt like I was 10 again. The daydreams of being loved and touched by my soulmate really made my heart burst with love and happiness. So this is how my friends felt when they have flashbacks. I smiled to myself. I think I don't hate you anymore, soulmate.

I laid back down on my bed. I couldn't sleep. And then I realised that I missed his touch. Just like the chain, I felt his touch on my skin vividly. I craved his love. I want to find him quick. I want to be with him forever. I love him.

I felt my blood rushing towards my face. I covered my face with my hands and rolled around my bed. I was a love sick fool.

♡♡♡♡

I was transferred to Nekoma high school in my second year. I was devastated to move away from my friends in karasuno. I missed the volleyball club. I was their manager for a year and I really enjoyed my time there. They were my true friends. They comforted me when I was having very bad flashbacks and panic attacks. I am going to miss them.

I'm 17 years old and I have a one sided love hate relationship with my soulmate. I continued to have such bad flashbacks most of the time but sometimes I have such wonderful and heart warming flashbacks. I hate him. But I love him too much.

I was looking down at my phone, scrolling through the memes that the volleyball gAnG sent to me on the group chat. I laughed silently and walked past the school gate. I wasn't aware of my surroundings and I bumped into someone tall and hard.

Oh God did I just hit a pole or something?? Why is it so hard??? I looked up and a wave of flashback just went over me.

"you cheated on me. I trusted you. You cheated on me with my trusted buddy!" he screamed at me. His face red from the anger.

My eyes widened from the claim. "excuse me? I didn't! Bokuto was eating so messily and I just wiped my handkerchief onto his mouth to wipe away the rice!" my hands clenched into a fist.

"what the fuck? Then explain why he hugged you on the bridge a few days ago? I had people watching over you two. I should've listened to the concubine. I shouldve trusted what the concubines said. I shouldn't have trusted you, slut." he slapped me across the cheek.

He was strong. I fell of my feet and fell onto the ground, hot tears spilling from my eyes. "I've never cheated on you with him. He caught me from falling into the the pond. Why don't you trust me? I would never cheat on you..." I cried.

"my servant saw you in the room with him two days ago. I knew you two were fucking behind my back. You shouldn't be the queen. You should be executed." he glared at me. He turned his back on me and walked towards the throne. "Officials, strip her off her title. Send her to the dungeon and punish her by whipping. Death by hanging."

"no! Stop! Stop! Im not cheating on you! I love you so much! Stop it! How dare you do this to your soulmate?" I screamed in fear. I would never cheat on him. Please believe me. Please...

The guards come running in, forcefully grabbing my arms and dragging me away. O struggled and tried to twist my arms to escape from them. There was no use. I looked at my soul mate in fear. "help me, Kuroo."

He looked away from me. His expression with hurt written all over his face. He still love me, right?

I was beaten. Whipped. Tortured. My whole body hurts. My eyes felt tired from crying for hours. My lungs sore from the screaming and crying. My body bloodied. I felt light headed. Just kill me already. I want to die. Die. Die. I really want to die. This flashback was worse than any other flash back I had.

Kuroo... Help me... I didn't cheat on you... I love you... Please.... Let me go... I love you... I want to be with you forever... Please stop...

After sunrise, the guards came in. They slapped me awake. "say your last words before you die, bitch." he spat on me.

I couldn't even flinch at his words anymore. I feel so numb. I just want to sleep. I want to go home. I want warmth. I want his warmth. I want Kuroo.

"I,,, didn't cheat on you, kuroo. I was planning our anniversary with Bokuto as a surprise for you. I wanted to have a party...just us... Having fun... I'm really tired. I will miss you, Kuroo. I really love you. But I don't want to be your soulmate anymore. I'm tired. You don't trust me. But I still... Love... You..."

My eyes slowly closed and my muscles all relaxed. Ah I've passed away. How embarrassing. Declaring my love for someone who doesn't even trust me. How pathetic. I hate my soulmate. I hate... Kuroo.

My head hurts. My whole body hurts. My world just spinning around. Tears poured down my eyes. I started hyperventilating. I bumped into someone and started to get a panic attack? My reputation is screwed. I caught a black headed messy hair stranger in front of me. Haha now I'm visioning of my soulmate. What a joke.

"(Y/N)... You're my soulmate...?" when those words come out from his mouth. My eyes snapped open. He is...

The person standing in front of me is the person I hate and I love the most. Kuroo... All those flashbacks come crashing down on me. I'm scared. "stop! Don't come near me! Don't hurt me! I'm sorry! Don't slap me! " I cried out loud, in front of everyone.

He immediately wrapped his arms around me tightly. "stop! (y/n) I won't hurt you! I love you! Please calm down!"

"don't touch me!!" I screamed my lungs out. "you're going to hurt me!"

"no, I won't! (y/n) please trust me!"

"no, stop! I'm scared. You're going to hurt me like the past. I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared."

I pushed him off and stumbled backwards.

"I hate you."

[almostkoo]

How to Enjoy Your Summer and Mend a Relationship In Two Weeks

pairing: namjoon/reader word count: 7.5k

summary: 80′s!au,enemies to lovers! au, oc is a counselor at a summer camp, they don’t really like Namjoon, their friendship is a work in progress.

warnings: since it’s a 80′s au I did not go easy on the slang at all, apparently crop tops were a thing for guys so I took liberty with that one ;), namjoon and oc gets extremely petty with each other through this, namjoon’s a rich boy, oc roasts him for that a little.sorry for any grammatical errors, enjoy!!

Summertime was perhaps without a doubt your favorite season. The air was thick and muggy as you stepped off the bus arriving at Oakpark Sleepaway Camp. Your hiking boots crunching against the dirt as the children ran around full of energy. Your hair already clung to the back of your neck with sweat, running your hands through your hair you gathered it and pulled it back, holding it back with a scrunchie. Oakpark Sleepaway Camp held a very special place in your heart as you had been attending the camp since you were eight. Begging your parents to finally let you venture off to the camp many of your classmates had come back some summer vacation bragging about how much fun Oakpark was.  

Fear of missing out was a bitch you suppose.

Over the past three summers since you had become a counselor at Oakpark, now here you were at your fourth and final summer before your freshman year of college. You bonded easily with the children and a lot of them clung to you. The familiar faces grouped around you, everyone happy to see the friends they made the summer prior. In the middle of the crowd stood a lone boy, big, wide doe eyes scanning the people around him as he clutched tightly on the straps of his Transformers duffle bag. Seeing your small pal from last summer you called out to him. “Jungkook!” You called out. He jumped at the sound of his name but his face quickly broke out into a smile and he called out your name before running to you and wrapping you in a tight hug.

“How has your year been buddy, it’s been awhile since I saw you!” You said gleefully.

“Well 5th grade wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I learned about the water cycle” he shrugged “how was your graduation?”

“Well about as good as any graduation could be at least I made it out unscathed.” you said, throwing an arm over your face for dramatic effect which earned a laugh from Jungkook. 

“I can’t wait to graduate. I'm absolutely over school.” 

“Well it could always be worse you could be-“

 Suddenly a loud, obnoxious laugh cut you off from not too far away behind you. Immediately you knew who the boisterous laugh belonged to. You turned around slightly glancing over your shoulder to sneak a glance. There he stood the very bane of your existence — Kim Namjoon.

Kim Namjoon had been annoying you ever since you were eleven. When he started attending the camp yearly after he moved and switched school districts, attending the very prestigious private school Landis Academy. The summer he strolled onto Oakpark’s campsite the whole air about the place changed. Something about the way he carried himself screamed arrogance and you couldn’t stand it. Everyone didn’t see it but you saw right through his facade as soon as you saw his crispy white Nikes hit the ground, decked in head to toe name brands clothes you couldn’t even afford a pair of socks from. He came in high and mighty ruining every summer since. Yet the children loved him and the adults at the camp adored him and his smile that with deep dimples to compliment it . Who gave him the right?   You snapped out of your train of thought when Jungkook dashed past you running to Namjoon to hear about whatever had the children crowding around him enthralled. Probably talking about physics to make himself look even smarter than he already is in front of the kids. I can’t believe he got Jungkook to flock over to him. You thought to yourself. The camp leader rounded everyone together with the sound of her whistle. The older lady Mrs. Bradshaw who ran the camp was decked in her all beige camping outfit with a big smile on her face. She greeted the campers, counselors and staff. As you stood there zoning out on what Mrs. Bradshaw was talking about you suddenly felt a presence looming behind you. With a scoff you acknowledged the nuisance behind you. 

“What do you want Namjoon?” You whispered annoyed trying not to draw attention to the two of you. “Just wanted to ask how your year went.” he asked. You could hear the insincerity laced in his words. “Gag me with a spoon. You do not care at all how my year went. If anything you probably sought me out to brag about what college you got accepted to, you pest.” “Not even. I genuinely wanted to know.” You glanced over at Namjoon and to your dismay he had his attention directly on you. You noticed he had his hair styled different not that you paid him any attention the past few summers he had let his hair grow a little longer sporting a mullet. You couldn’t help but scoff at the expensive Ray Bans perched in his bleach blonde locks. “It was fine. I hoped for once you would take summer off and not show up but I guess we can’t always get what we want.” “What makes you think I wanted to see you either. Here I am trying to be the bigger person and approach you first to start anew as we go into adulthood but I guess we can’t always get what we want.” He said, repeating your last sentence back to you. “Oh God, don’t have a cow Namjoon, you are not that into the idea of us being all chummy with each other.” “You wouldn’t know, dweeb,” he sneered. You rolled your eyes turning your attention back to the front where Mrs. Bradshaw was wrapping up her speech to everyone. She was about to announce the small groups of campers every counselor was responsible for and what side of the camp they would be on. The piece of land Oakpark resided on was essentially an island with water in the middle separating the two sides, Northwood and Southwood. You zoned back in right as Mrs. Brunswick was ending her list.

She announced you would be in charge of the Butterfly Tribe with Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi. She turned to Namjoon, not hiding the favoritism in her voice as she announced him and the Chipmunk Tribe leader with Jimin,Taehyung and Jungkook. Karma couldn’t be more in your favor. The summer prior all six of the named children had attended. Your group was pretty mellow with the exception of Hoseok who was just a walking ray of sunshine and could seemingly never run out of energy. Namjoon’s group on the other hand. Jimin and Taehyung got paired together last summer. The two were a pair of troublemakers to the highest degree. How they managed to get paired together was beyond you. They weren’t in your group and that’s all you had to worry about. But the fact that they were in Namjoon’s group. These next two weeks were going to be very interesting. 💨 The first week of camp hadn’t been so bad. So far it had been the usual. Questionable food (besides the apple pie served for dessert). Relay races and arts and crafts. Somehow within a week you and Namjoon had found a way to put your respective groups of children against each other. Your group had proven successful in many of the camps activities. Although something must’ve happened because on Thursday, Jungkook had completely dusted your team in the relay race. You sat around the other counselors at dinner chatting about everything under the sun. The downside of being away from home was the fact that many of you all were missing your weekly programs. You weren’t too upset you had brought your Walkman to pass by the time. Between the energetic kiddos and Namjoon driving you up a wall Madonna was gonna keep you sane until you returned home. In the middle of picking up a forkful of meatloaf. The lights flickered out eliciting a outbreak of screams from the kids. Quickly the adults grabbed lanterns and huge flashlights as they browsed everyone in attendance doing a headcount. Afterwards Mrs. Bradshaw spoke into a megaphone to grab everyone's attention. “Okay everyone. The lights are out on both sides of the camp, to be safe we’re gonna have all of the campers and counselors sleep in the mess hall tonight. Just in case the lights don’t come back on in the middle of the night it would be safer to have everyone in one spot. We’re gonna have everyone move in groups of eight. Two counselors and six campers. So everyone can grab their sleeping bags and toiletries they might need through the rest of the evening.” Fuck. You thought. Hopefully I’ll get paired up with one of the girls.

Dread fell on your shoulders when you heard yours and Namjoons names called together. “You both have all boys in your groups right?” she practically screamed into the already loud megaphone. You blanked, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. “Yeah! Do you want us to take our campers to the cabins?” He called back to her. You looked across the mess hall to where one of the staff was holding a flashlight, illuminating Namjoon’s face. You glared at him and you saw him smiling. “Barf me out the universe has it out for me.” you mumbled under your breath. The sudden glare from the flashlight caught you off guard making you flinch. “Is that okay with you?” Mrs. Bradshaw asked. “Radical! Thanks for the suggestion!” You tried to make the cringe expression on your face look less like a grimace and more like a true smile. “Great tubular,” she said, earning groans from the youth in the mess hall. “Gather your campers and come to the front to get a lantern.” You groaned quietly, looping your legs out from under the bench. You made your way to the front where you met up with Namjoon. Mrs. Bradshaw held out a single lantern. “We have to split the lanterns so you two have to decide which one of you want to carry it.” “I’ll carry it.” You and Namjoon said in unison. Both of your heads snapped to each other as you slightly glared at each other. “I’ll rock, paper, scissors you for it.” Namjoon smugly, offered. “No I said I’ll carry it.” you sneered. Gently grabbing the lantern from Mrs. Bradshaw’s grasp. Surprisingly Namjoon didn’t put up a fight. You let out a whistle calling you campers to you as Namjoon gathered together his campers too as you both left the mess hall. 💨 You and Namjoon started the trek to the boys cabin. Thankfully both groups were on the Northwood side. Both of you stood in the doorway waiting for the boys to gather their sleeping bags and to change into their pajamas. You looked out at the lake that was crystal clear. Sighing you felt your face scrunch up as you swatted away what had to be the 20th mosquito that evening. Namjoon let out a soft chuckle, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“What’s so funny? You wouldn’t like it if mosquitoes were flocking towards you either.” You said, irritated. 

“I’m honestly surprised they’re around you in the first place I thought they tended to fly around sweeter scents; if being bitter was a scent you’d probably radiate it.” He spat.

“Bag it. I don’t even know why I address your presence in the first place, twerp.” You moved out of the doorway, desperate to move as far away from Namjoon’s bothersome self. You went to take a step attempting to dodge a mud pile in front of you, underestimating the leap you took, you felt the grip of your Keds give and right as you anticipated the fall a pair of strong arms came from behind you wrapping themselves under yours pulling you back away from the mud. Quickly you pushed yourself back off of Namjoon when you got your footing. “Jeez I can’t even get a thank you from saving you from wiping out? I could’ve totally let you slip and walk around with a muddy ass.” You hesitated on the apology. Thinking to yourself you knew if your grandmother was here she would’ve whacked you for not showing common decency in the first place.

“Thanks, Namjoon.” The apology came out through a struggle between your gritted teeth. You looked at Namjoon who stood back in his original spot, leaning on the doorframe. “See that wasn’t so hard. See now I’m gonna help you out and attempt to show you how manners work. Watch this,” he held his hand up underneath his mouth. “No problem.” He smiled big making his deep dimples show themselves. It was a crime such beautiful features had to be on him with that personality inside. The universe sure had an interesting way of doing things.

Quickly the kids came out of the cabin dressed in their pajamas various assorted characters displayed on them. Next you all made your way to the counselors cabins to grab your belongings. You grabbed your sleeping bag and pajamas, opting to change when everyone made it back to the mess hall so everyone wouldn’t be waiting any longer as the sun started going down. Namjoon and the boys stood outside with their belongings waiting . As soon as the boys laid eyes on your sleeping bag they erupted into a fit of laughter.

“Alright dweebs, knock it off its not that funny.” you scoffed, placing a hand on your hip. As the laughter continued. The only one who remained with a straight face was Jungkook and Namjoon.

“Ew is that Care Bears? You’re going to college? With that colorful, glittery mess?” Taehyung asked, in between breaths as he laughed. Your shoulders slumped as you sighed again throwing your head back. You couldn’t believe you were about to be obliterated by a 7th grader.

“Care Bears are better than those grody Thundercats you have all plastered on your pajamas.” You shot back at the boy. 

“Take it back! Thundercats are cool!” Jimin said, coming to his friend's defense.

“Alright that’s enough. Thundercats are trash. Let’s head back to the mess hall.” Namjoon said, turning on his heels as he adjusted his sleeping bag securely under his arms. You felt a small grin spread on your face, you were shocked that Namjoon came to your defense but decided not to sweat it. It’s not a big deal. You told yourself.

💨 Back at the mess hall you returned from the bathroom, decked in your older brothers G.I Joe shirt and a pair of shorts. Many of the children were playing around the mess hall. Some playing board games and others talking amongst themselves. 

You looked around to find somewhere to lay your sleeping bag down at. Everyones was lined around the wall of the mess hall. As you scanned around the hall there was only a spot between the two of the boys and one by a black sleeping bag laid out haphazardly by the wall and the corner of the wall. Weighing the options you figured that sleeping in between two of the boys would have been worse than sleeping in the corner by the random owner of the bag. You’d be damned if you had to spend the night between boys cracking fart jokes and talking about God knows what gross little boys talk about. Walking over to the bag, you scooted it over a little to lay out your beloved beat up Care Bears sleeping bag. Laying on top of it you grabbed your Walkman and fished through your bag you brought from under your bunk to pull out your mixtape one of your best friends made for you before you left, adjusting your headphones over your head. You grabbed one of the murder mystery novels you packed letting your music play as you leaned against the wall curling up as comfortably as possible you closed out the outside world to dive into the book.

Right when the story was starting to pick up you felt something nudge against your arm. You pulled one of cuffs back away from your ears you looked up at the source and almost choked on your own spit. The source of the nudging came from Namjoon who stood above you dressed in a cropped short sleeved jersey and a pair of plaid pajama pants. He held a book as to his side as he peered down at you with a puzzled expression on his face. “Can I help you?” you sneered.

“Umh, may I ask as to why you’re in my spot?” Namjoon asked. You jumped , smacking your head not so softly against the wall, headphones falling off your head in the process. Namjoon flinched back at the sound of your head against the wood.

“Your spot? I don’t see a placeholder with Kim Namjoon on it anywhere.” you frowned.

“Is your head okay?” he asked, reaching for you slightly.

“ My head is fine. Look if you think I’m going to give up this cozy spot by the wall you are for sure mistaken.” 

“I’m not about to childishly argue with you over the spot. If I wanted to I’d wait for you to fall asleep first and slide you across the floor away from it.” “You wouldn’t.” You challenged him. Namjoon said something that you couldn’t make out. You had given him the once over and from where he stood and where you sat on the ground you could see almost straight up his top giving you a perfect view at his toned stomach, your mind went blank for a brief moment until you felt another nudge against your arm. Namjoon smiled down at you.

“See something you like?” He asked, as he lifted his arms over his head stretching dramatically causing his shirt to rise up even higher. You quickly turned away from him, knowing he was trying to bait you.

“Gag me with a spoon, nobody wants to look at you.” you rolled your eyes at him. He sat down on his sleeping bag next to you.

“Can’t you go sleep outside the bathroom? Do you have to sleep right here?” you questioned.

“Is there a window by the bathroom? No I didn’t think so.” You rolled your eyes at his statement. “What does it matter for? It’s not even that hot outside plus you’re half dressed anyways.” You gestured at the jersey he wore.

“It is 88 degrees right now just be lucky I didn’t put on a pair of shorts. I saw how you were looking at me last Thursday when we all played Marco Polo in the lake.” You felt a warm wave quickly come over you.

You felt embarrassed that Namjoon had noticed you in the first place watching him. While you had opted to stay with Yoongi who was adamant that alligators housed the waters over by the tire swings, your eyes couldn’t help to fall on Namjoon multiple times in that afternoon. He donned striped neon lime swim trunks. The color complimented his golden complexion and the trunks themselves showcased his thick, firm legs and had you going slack jawed many times throughout the day. It wasn’t your fault Namjoon just so happened to be as handsome as he was with such a shitty personality.

Even though you attempted to be quick enough to not catch his eyes it appeared you weren’t. “Sit on it. Like I said earlier, nobody is looking at you all like that. Don’t be so full of yourself loser nerd.” you scoffed, deflecting his previous statement.

“If I’m a loser nerd you are too, because here we are two loser nerds both reading a book in the middle of the summer.” Namjoon picked up his book, reaching into the pocket of his pajamas he pulled out a pair of thick lensed glasses. He put them on, flipping through the book to find where he left off at.

“See now you’re definitely a nerd. Look at your pop bottle glasses. I would’ve said they were for style but based on the lenses I think you’d actually need them.” you chuckled. Namjoon’s shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh. He turned in your, the bridge of his glasses slid down to the tip of his nose as he looked over the rim at you.

“What’s your damage?” He asked. You could hear his words dripping with irritation.

“My damage?” You asked, you sat up off the wall facing him. “When you first came to this camp you walked in all stuck up like you owned the place. You thumbed your nose at me from the moment you saw me. Why would I ever like someone like you?” Namjoon opened his mouth to defend himself, when you cut him off again.

“Then to make matters worse I didn’t even speak to you. I didn’t acknowledge you. You put crickets in my bunk one summer and the next summer you trashed my paper mache lantern. I was going to give that to my grandmother when I got back home and I couldn’t thank you very much.” You tried, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

When you first saw Namjoon all those summers ago. Yes, you would admit that you did have a crush on him. He was probably the first crush you had on another person since being exposed to the public. Between all the relationships you had at school for some odd reason your mind would always trail back to Namjoon. But when he started all the pranks it kind of faded away. You didn’t really know what you had done to get him to dislike you the way he did but you knew it bothered you to the core. “I never hated you,” he confirmed. Confusion quickly spread across your features as you finally pulled the headphones off your head.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Explain what all that bullshit was these past summers, quickly.”

“I don’t hate you. I never did. I—“ he sighed. “I was younger and I liked you, okay? I admired you. I thought you were cute. Given that I didn’t do my best to say that. I didn’t know at first it was the feeling I felt for you and by the time I realized what it was I had dug myself into a hole too deep. I felt like you would have never liked me at this point and I had to keep it going.” He admitted. Your eyes darted around the room looking at anything that wasn’t Namjoon. You didn’t know how to process the thoughts racing around your mind. Were you mad? Yes, but even more confused. The paper mache lantern had really pissed you off when it happened and even though you made another one it still wasn’t as good as the first one which really bummed you out. Namjoon softly called out your name. You looked back at him. He fiddled with his glasses that now laid in his hands. “I really fucking loved that lantern you know.” You attempted to crack a joke. You could tell Namjoon wasn’t sure if he should laugh back or not. 

“I am so sorry for that.”

“No no it’s okay. I mean don’t get me wrong the first one was purple and my grandmother's favorite color is purple and I had to give her a green one but that’s neither here nor there. Why did you do all that stuff? Why not just say you had a crush on me?” Namjoon’s eyes bucked in shock.

“Be honest would you have talked to me?” 

You opened your mouth hesitating before you spoke. “I mean.” You let your words trailed off. “Exactly my point.”

“Aren’t you like smart enough to know a lot of people don’t like when people pick on them trying to ‘express’ their feelings for others. It’s the 80’s people hate that now. Maybe our parents would have liked that.” You said, pulling on a loose string of your shirt. Namjoon softly called your name. When you looked at him he was looking down at his hands again. “You can’t just treat anyone how you want and expect them to come around when you call yourself having an epiphany.” you sighed. There was a lot to think about. In the entirety of the time you knew Kim Namjoon he had been nothing but a jerk and that’s years of knowing someone it’s a lot to erase about someone. 

“ I can’t stress this enough I am so sorry and I know that years of us going back and forth can’t be erased but maybe if you give me a chance maybe we can start anew?” Namjoon reached out to hold your hand. You looked at your hands intertwined and then up at his eyes. Dark, amber eyes peered into yours. Pleading for a you to take a gamble. You slowly pulled your hand out of Namjoon’s grip, his full lips forming a soft frown. 

“I don’t know Namjoon. I’d have to think about it.” you replied to him. He let out a sigh, seemingly not out of frustration but something else you couldn’t read.

“I understand. If I was in your shoes I most likely wouldn’t have been able to make a decision on the fly like that either. I probably shouldn’t have even brought it up.” You wanted to attempt to console Namjoon, who in the whole time you had known him you’d never seen him like this. Sad and possibly heartbroken. Your feelings were all over the place. You felt like someone had thrown all of your emotions into a pan like ingredients ready to be scrambled like Sunday breakfast.

“I’ll let you know how I’m feeling when I find out myself.” you wrapped your headphones around your Walkman and closed your book up. You laid back down on top of your sleeping bag. Staring at the wall you let your thoughts all hit you fully at once. There was a huge chance that you weren’t getting any sleep tonight after Namjoon’s confession. 💨

You woke up to someone tapping your shoulder. Your eyes opened as you checked your surroundings, forgetting about the power outage from the night before. Namjoon kneeled in front of you.

“Good morning, breakfast started being served. I didn’t want you to miss it.” he said.

“Uh thanks?” you yawned, your answer coming off more like a question. You slowly sat up rubbing at your eyes. You stood up gathering your belongings together. Namjoon cleared his throat from behind you. You turned around giving him your attention, with a puzzled expression.

“I was- umh wondering maybe- umh did you want to sit with me while we eat?” he asked. Anxiousness rolled off of him in waves. His posture was slightly slumped, as he picked at the hem of his jersey, eyes examining the wood floors. You gave it a quick thought. “I mean.” you dragged. Namjoon instantly perked up.

“I don’t want to pressure you-”

“No it’s okay I don’t feel pressured. I’ll eat breakfast with you.” Namjoon’s face contorted into a grin.

“I wasn’t expecting you to say yes” you heard him say quickly under his breath. “Okay.” you two stood there for a second as the goofy grin on Namjoon’s face didn’t budge.

“So are we gonna get our plates or?” you asked. “Oh! Right, right. Let’s go then.” he turned, heading towards the food line.You two made your plates. You settled for a light breakfast. You and Namjoon sat down at the end of one of the long picnic table benches that lined the mess hall. You slowly toyed around with the assorted fruits in the foam bowl in front of you. No conversation took place between the two of you for at least five minutes. “Guess you aren’t good at starting a conversation with someone if you aren’t being a jerk huh?” you said, taking a bite out of cantaloupe. Namjoon opened his mouth to defend himself.

“No it’s just-”

“Namjoon I’m just fucking with you. I see the electricity still hasn't come back on.” you took into account the ceiling fans in the hall that usually by now would have been running, cooling down the humid place. “Yeah it’s kinda warm in here I probably should’ve slept in shorts. I’m starting to regret it.”

“Do you know what Mrs. Bradshaw has planned for today?I know it was supposed to be movie day.” “I think a dodgeball game.” Namjoon let out a breath, he moved his Cheerios around with his spoon.

“Dodgeball? With children? Not maybe volleyball or something. Wouldn’t that be less dangerous?” 

“Isn’t volleyball slightly more dangerous?”

“I knew a girl that got her arm broken while playing dodgeball.”

“Didn’t you play volleyball in high school? If we do end up playing I’m asking Mrs. Bradshaw to make you sit on the sidelines. It’s not fair to have a seasoned veteran playing against us amateurs.” Namjoon laughed. You tilted your head to the side in confusion as you looked at him.

“How did you know I played volleyball?” “You wore your volleyball shirt last summer I’m assuming it was yours. Plus Scoville played against my school this season.” he revealed. “I didn’t know we played Landis.” you said. Namjoon replicated the expression you gave him. “Question? How did you know I went to Landis?”

“I-”

Namjoon laughed at you. “Creeper.”

“No” you replied, firmly. “As prestigious as Landis is I would expect a Einstein such as yourself to go there. Couldn’t have us commoners rubbing off on the elite.” you joked.

“Einstein? I wouldn’t call myself all that.” he said, you could see a subtle blush creeping on his cheeks.

“We’re starting anew right? Accept the compliment.” you smiled and Namjoon mirrored you. 💨

Everyone stood in the gym. It was currently halfway through round two of dodgeball. You sat on the lowest level of the wooden bleachers talking with one of the other counselors, Sam, who had gotten out both times almost as quick as the rounds had started. 

Surprisingly Namjoon hadn’t gotten out in this round. The first round he had only gotten out because Jimin had thrown the ball at him and even though it hadn’t quite hit him. It rolled along the floor until it got stopped by the tip of Namjoon’s shoes. Jimin got too excited that he technically had gotten one of the counselors out that Namjoon didn’t really have the heart to tell him it wasn’t an actual out. So he took it in silence, trudging along to the spot next to you on the bleachers to keep you company.

Although you sat on the sidelines. The game was mildly interesting from some of the children who had a mean throw and the counselors mixed in who were playing hard with each other. You didn’t also mind the view that got provided with the game. Namjoon, who opted to wear a blue muscle tank and jean shorts. You allowed yourself to indulge in the sight you got. His biceps flexed as he cocked his arm back to throw the bright red rubber ball. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding. Which Sam on the side of you had definitely noticed.

“So you’re finally admitting that Kim Namjoon is attractive?” Sam asked you. The question caught you off guard. 

“I haven’t even said anything about him.” you said, bashfully.

“I see the way you’ve been watching him out on the court. What type of front are you putting up?” Sam shook her head at you. You went to plead your case. When Sam started talking again.

“Then when he got out he came straight over to you. You were practically drooling over him. I bet you can’t even tell me what half of the conversation was about. Could you?”

To be quite honest, you probably couldn’t tell Sam what half of the conversation was about. Maybe it might’ve been about a- yeah you didn’t know what the conversation was about. You had found yourself multiple times while Namjoon was talking getting lost staring at him. For a few sentences you would give him eye contact then you looked at his nose fighting back a mean urge to take your index finger and boop it and anything he smiled and his dimples played peekaboo you found yourself sneaking glances. God forbid you looked down while he spoke,

Namjoon, while he was out for some reason didn’t sit on the bleachers like Sam did for instance, sitting upright. He leaned back like you did, getting comfortable while he rested. His thighs spread slightly as he chatted away to you. You had however snuck the quickest look in the world downwards when he adjusted his seating position, Your mind went absolutely TV static blank and your lips parted as you drew a quick breath. You had to straighten up quickly as you got a little worried if Namjoon noticed you checking him out he might’ve fallen into his old ways and teased you. “He was talking about- birds?” you asked Sam.

“Fuck no. He was talking about his graduation. Oh my God you are the worst.”

You leaned forward. “Are you serious? He wasn’t talking about birds? I heard something about a bird.”

“No” Sam giggled.”I can’t even get mad at you. Kim Namjoon is a total babe.” You heard the whistle blow signaling that someone was out again. You looked up to see who was out. This is what I get for talking him up. You thought to yourself. Namjoon strolled over in your direction with a big smile on his face. Who would be happy to be out of dodgeball? He sat on the side of you in the same cursed position. “So as I was saying then as I was giving my speech. One of the parents in the crowd lost it.” His words trailed off as you looked past him at Sam who was shaking her head at you. 💨

One by one the kids had gotten kicked out of the game. Until it was just counselors left. Then suddenly the worst case scenario could have happened as the last kid walked off the court. One of the counselors, a loud mouthed sixteen year old named Tony had suggested one of the most trash ideas in history.

“Mrs. Bradshaw! We should have the counselors play against each other !” he yelled. Before Mrs. Bradshaw could answer the question the kids erupted in cheers rooting for the idea. Mrs. Bradshaw looked at the rowdy children.

It’s not like you didn’t want to play dodgeball. But at least when the children were playing too. The ball got thrown softer because one there was a chance that one of the kids were throwing the ball which meant it wasn’t getting thrown hard and if a kid wasn’t throwing the ball it meant a counselor was throwing and they couldn’t throw the ball but so hard because of the kids. But now it was all fair game and you really didn’t want to get bruised.

“Well the children seem to like the idea. How about it?” she asked. The counselors really didn’t have an option. It’s not like Mrs. Bradshaw abused her power but.. she only asked to be decent. The counselors that were out got up off their various spots on the bleachers.

“Wait? Who’s gonna throw?” Tony asked. Fuck this kid. You thought as you zoned out to make your way to the wall. You heard Mrs. Bradshaw call your name.

“Huh?” you called.

“Namjoon suggested you throw since you played volleyball! You must be a good throw.” she said, cheerfully.

Fuck this kid. You thought again. Namjoon ran to you with the ball in his hands.

“Go get em tiger.” he said, lowering his voice. He handed you the ball, he jogged over to a spot against the wall. You felt your face heat up a little. You were a softie for words of encouragement. You tossed the ball in your hands. First to do was to get this little fucker Tony out for suggesting the idea in the first place. You cocked your arm getting ready to throw the ball in his direction. As soon as the ball left your hand he dashed away the ball smacked against the wall hard. 

It went like that back and forth for a while. Four people had gotten out so far. The fourth, Sam who you genuinely wasn’t trying to get out she just so happens to be on the side of Tony when the ball bounced off the wall and hit her arm. You mouthed her an apology that she brushed off with a smile, she was probably happy to sit down in all honesty. 

Tony rolled the ball back down the court to you and if you didn’t know better you would have assumed he was doing it mocking you. Knowing that you were trying to get him out. If this was volleyball instead you probably would have just said screw it and spiked the ball at his face. You rolled the ball around in your hands. You heard kids off on the bleachers cheering for you. It put a smile on your face. You looked to where Tony stood, he was on the side of Namjoon .When you locked eyes with Namjoon, he smiled and winked at you. You had to focus. This could be the throw that finally got Tony’s punk ass out,then you could finally stop seeing that shit eating grin leave his face. You took a deep breath. You swung your arm back, throwing it forward you released it propelling it. You closed your eyes before you could see it make it contact. But when you heard the sound of the ball smack against flesh you knew you hit him. A loud “Oh fuck” went through the gym, followed by a wave of gasps.

Wait, that didn’t sound like Tony. You expected to be met with the sight of Tony clutching his arm in pain but instead you saw Namjoon hunched over holding his face. You saw blood dripping through his fingers. Guilt hit you like a runaway train. Even Tony looked shocked. You ran over to Namjoon, frantically apologizing. 

“Take him to the infirmary.” Mrs. Bradshaw called from the other side.

“Namjoon, you gotta stand up and tilt your head back for me.” you said, rubbing his back. “I got it. I got it.” his voice came out nasally from him pinching his nose in an attempt to get the bleeding to stop. He stood up and groaned as you two made your way to the infirmary. 💨 Namjoon laid back on the examiners table with gauze in his nose trying to slow down the bleeding. The nurse at the camp seemed to be in awe of your toss. You have a very powerful throw. She complimented you and apologized to Namjoon for being on the receiving end of the ball. It had been ten minutes and he was still bleeding. Even though it was still a lot it was then it was less than what it was when he first got hit. You remained by his side, the guilt of accidentally hitting him that hard wouldn’t let you leave.

“Namjoon, I am so sorry for hitting you that hard. I swear it wasn’t on purpose.” you apologized again.

“Don’t feel bad this is just the universe delivering me my karma for being a dick to you all these years. The universe is balancing itself back out.” he joked.

“If anything it’s from when you told me break a leg before the relay races when I was fourteen and then I actually broke my ankle.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re still holding on to that?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you.

“I am most definitely still holding on to that.” 

Namjoon laughed and shook his head.”You are certainly a piece of work.” “That I may be.” You said, taking a spin. “Honestly I didn’t mean to hit you. I was trying to hit that twerp Tony.” You took Namjoon’s hand in yours.

“It’s okay. You’ve explained this to me at least fifteen times in the last ten minutes.” he rubbed, his thumb over yours. 

“It’s just that I feel bad. After our conversation got all heavy last night I didn’t want you to think that I did that to be spiteful.”

Namjoon sat up on the examiners table to look into your eyes. He smiled at you. He took a deep breath that didn’t really come off like a true deep breath and more like a content sigh. “The painkillers kicking in?” you chuckled.

“Yes” Namjoon nodded slowly “that’s besides the point. I guess it’s kind of my fault for suggesting a volleyball player throw during dodgeball. I set myself up for this one.” “No it was me being a dick to a teenager.” “Well if we sit here going back and forth between who;s fault we’ll probably never make it to freshman orientation.” he laughed. “How bout we both blame it on Tony?” you questioned, throwing up a pinky for him to loop his around. “You do pinky promises? I wouldn’t have expected you to.” he looped his pinky around yours. 

“There’s a lot you wouldn’t expect me to do.” you said, lowly. “Oh really?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow at you.

“Barf me out. Namjoon get your mind out of the gutter and get your priorities straight. You have a nose full of bloody gauze. You’re gross.” you shook your head at him. “It’s not that gross. Plus you caused this.”

“No remember the pinky promise said that Tony caused this.” Namjoon nodded his head remembering the agreement you two had just came to thirty seconds ago. “It’s almost dried up.” he pulled the stained gauze out of his nose, examining it. “Good maybe the guilt can leave me alone.” you mumbled. Namjoon took one of the clean gauzes wiping off his nose. 

“Did you give a thought to our conversation?” Namjoon asked, quietly. Had you? It had only been a night and some change. Well at least not a full night for you. You tended to have a habit of violently overthinking just about every aspect of your life. Now the situation with Namjoon magnified it. You barely got any sleep last night. Thinking about every encounter you had with him. Sure enough he could be a good person, the behavior had just seemed biased towards you. Starting off anew couldn’t be the worse decision. If push came to shove you two were going off to college. You could just stop talking to him and completely cut him off.

But did you really not want him around. You had to force yourself to look at him. You were worried about the expression he donned. When you looked at Namjoon he had a neutral expression on his face. You sighed.

“So how are we doing this? Phone calls? Letters? What?” you smiled.

“You’re giving me a chance?” he smiled back.

“One” you held your pointer finger up. “Only one. Be very careful with it.” you whispered, as if people were around to hear your conversation.

“I promise you I will. I’ll call you even if I have to sacrifice my quarters for the wash to talk to you. I’ve got years of lost time to make up for.” he grabbed both of your hands, holding them tightly. You swung your arms. “I promise to write you letters I’ll use the finest of bic ink pens for you.” Namjoon laughed at you. “Can I ask you a question?” you hummed in response. “Can I kiss you?” you blinked a couple of times. Kiss? The word ran through your brain like headlines at the bottom of the screen during the 6 o’ clock news. “I’m sorry. Am I being too forward? Is it too soon? I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” Namjoon rambled. He was in the middle of still vocalizing his thoughts when you cut him off with a quick peck. Namjoon jumped back away from you. You jumped back too.

“Wait was I being too forward? I thought you wanted a kiss?” you asked, smacking him lightly on the arm.

“No no I did. It’s just I was talking I thought you would have let me finish talking first. It caught me off guard. Wait let’s try that again I’m ready now.” Namjoon puckered up and leaned in. You stopped his mouth holding up your hand.He opened his eyes looking at you in confusion.

“We got the rest of the summer to get it right.” you said.

“The rest of the summer?”

“Oh I’m sorry did you think I was gonna run up my parents bill talking on the phone with you every day. We all don’t come from money.” you said.

“Alright now. If I had to I’d foot the bill.” 

You laughed. “Jeez louise, Namjoon just drive to my house, it's not that serious.” 

“You got it, tiger.” he wrapped your fingers up in a pinky promise that he pressed a kiss to.

Summer was definitely your favorite season.

[glorifiedpigeon]

Fluffuary - My Muse and Inspiration

A Loceitmus oneshot for Choice OT3 day! Darren has to clean up yet another one of his best friend's messes. Unfortunately his kinda sorta maybe crush is Remus' brand new mess. Way to go, buddy.

AO3

"Dee, you've gotta help me!" Remus shouted, bursting into the room with a wild expression, the dramatic cape hanging off the shoulders of his frilly waistcoat fluttering with the movement.

"What is it now?" Darren asked with a heavy sigh. He glanced up to see Remus now engaged in a very odd tug of war over his cape with- "Logan Croft?"

"Oh good, you know him!" Remus exclaimed, sounding relieved.

"Ah, Mr. Salazar! I see you're familiar with my muse," Logan announced, and he straightened, fixing the glasses on his face.

"Your muse?" Darren asked, glaring at Remus.

"Loogie, why don't you go draw my face in the other room? I'm sure it's burned into your cranium, yeah?" Remus suggested.

"But the light was hitting you just perfectly ten paces over there, I was hoping-"

"Go draw me as a fish, that sounds fun, huh?" Remus suggested. Logan gasped, and he scrambled for the bag at his hip. Remus shoved him out of the room and slammed the door, quickly locking it.

Darren blinked. "Remus, what did you do?"

"I just wanted him to pay attention to me," Remus exclaimed.

"You charmed him to get his attention!? What spell did you use, because a simple glamour would not have him acting like he needs you to survive!" Darren snapped, gesturing angrily towards the door.

"He's an artist! His pictures are so pretty, I just… inspired him a little?" Remus said nervously. Darren gaped.

"Of course you used a muse spell, you goddamn romantics don't think about the consequences of anything!" Darren snapped, shoving Remus. "He's just a sketch artist, right? He won't be singing ballads to you in the dark of the night, or chiseling your face out of stone?"

Remus coughed and rocked on his heels. "Ah. He might be an everyman? Jack of all trades?"

Darren could've strangled Remus in that moment. "Remus. Fix it."

"I don't know how! How did you fix it when you accidentally spelled that theatre kid in seventh grade?" Remus demanded, flicking his cape aside and getting down on his knees. "Please, Dee, I need you to help me out!"

"My parents handled that for me, and I haven't studied a single charm spell since- I don't know how to fix this!" Darren protested. Remus whined.

"He hasn't let me eat my lunch, or bother my brother! He's just been making me pose for him!" Remus complained.

"That's your own fault!" Darren snapped, but he made his way over to the spellbooks on his shelf, disguised as law books.

"I wouldn't mind so much if he took a break. I'm pretty sure he sprained his wrist trying to paint me on a wall last night, but he won't stop- it's even freaking me out," Remus said, glancing at the door. Darren scowled.

"He's going to keep drawing, and painting and whatever else until he wastes away, Remus. That's the nature of the spell, he can't think of anything but you now," Darren explained, as he began paging through his barely touched book on charms. Remus frowned.

"I just wanted him to notice me. You talk about him all the time, and I just wanted to get his attention," Remus moaned.

"I talk about him because there's no way in hell that he'd be interested in me or in you. Logan Croft is a man of high standards," Darren scowled. Remus whined wordlessly in complaint. There was a knock at the door. Darren sighed heavily. "At least try to feed the poor man something while I work on reversing your stupid mistake."

Remus grumbled, but he opened the door anyway. Logan stood behind it with a big smile.

"I came up with a poem about your smile," Logan announced, looking more than proud of himself.

"What, you didn't set it to music and make a song?" Darren snorted to himself. He immediately regretted it as the man nearly dropped his sketchbook.

"Brilliant idea. I have to go home and get started right away-"

"Hey, Loogie, wait!" Remus exclaimed, but Logan was darting down the hallway too fast for Remus to stop him. He turned to Darren with an icy cold glare.

"Sorry, I didn't realize he could hear me," Darren said, feeling more than a little chagrined.

"I'm going to go catch up to him and try to bring him back," Remus sighed. "You worry about the reversal spell."

Darren began flipping through the book. Of all the goddamn spells, Remus had to choose the muse spell. It was a terrifying charm, a spell that twisted the mind of the affected party, causing them to lose sight of anything that didn't have to do with the caster. They would simply create tributes and fawn over the caster. Eventually, like poor damned Ameinias, their "love" would drive them to their deaths.

Or, at least, landed them in the hospitals and kept under watch so they didn't hurt themselves to try and use that… "inspiration" their muses gave them. Darren remembered being thirteen and terrified, finally begging his parents for help and confessing that he'd gotten Jeremy Olsen hospitalized. It was horrid, an absolute nightmare. Afterwards, his parents had sent him away to a boarding school, where he was not allowed to practice magic at all.

Darren never relied on magic to charm people again, especially not people he was fond of, like Logan Croft or Remus. And now his idiotic friend had gone and made the same terrible mistake. Well, he was determined to help him solve it.

Muse spell, muse spell, muse spell. Darren sighed as he scanned the page the spell was located on. Oh thank god, the reversal looked simple enough.

Suddenly, Remus kicked open the door, Logan Croft slung over his shoulder like a child throwing a tantrum.

"I wasn't finished! That child was about to lend me her chalk!" Logan cried out.

"Nope! You're gonna sit your pretty little ass down and let Darren here fix you up all nice and normal, yeah?" Remus interrupted. He shoved the door shut with a foot, and dropped Logan into a soft armchair.

"At least give me a pen and paper-"

"Nope!" Remus said, and he kicked the notepads Darren had been doing homework on off the coffee table so Logan couldn't reach them. Darren sighed heavily.

"I have the reverse incantation, Remus. Go stand in the corner and think about why a muse spell is more than a bad idea, okay?" Darren suggested. Remus pouted, but he still moved away to give Darren his space. "Hello, Croft."

"Salazar. Are you and Remus friends? You know, the light catches on him just splendidly, I'm almost jealous of what a pretty picture the two of you mak-"

"Yes, yes, he's utterly fascinating- do you have a middle name at all?" Darren asked.

Remus piped up, "It's-"

"I've heard just about enough out of you, Remus!" Darren snapped.

"My middle name is Berry," Logan informed.

"Wait, seriously?" Darren asked. He shook his head and looked back down at the tome in his arms. "Nevermind. Okay, well Logan Berry Croft… Notsgnik sumer esum wen eniht morf noitaripsni ekat dna eeht erofeb ytuaeb eht ezingocer."

In a sudden flash, Logan was blinking up at Darren in confusion. He looked around the room. "I- I feel as though I've made an awfully big fool of myself."

"No bigger a fool than Remus is every day," Darren assured. "Are you alright?"

"Ah… no? I mean- magic is real, I was charmed by a classmate, and I am currently in the apartment of another classmate, both of whom are technically strangers to me," Logan summarized rather succinctly. He glanced at the pile of notebooks on the floor, then at his left hand. "I didn't think there was anything other than drugs that could take away one's self preservation."

"Oh, are you in pain? Remus said he thought you hurt yourself earlier," Darren asked. He hovered over Logan, worried about his wrist. "He said he thought it might be sprained."

"I don't think so, but it certainly smarts. I won't be writing for a day at least," Logan said with a disapproving frown.

"I'll take notes for you in class," Darren offered. Logan managed a smile.

"That would be rather kind, thank you, Mr. Salazar," Logan stated.

"Just call me Darren." He probably sounded desperate, but Darren had never had this long a conversation with his classmate. He was relishing it.

"Wait, hang on, that reversal incantation was just the actual spell backwards! I could've done that easily!" Remus protested suddenly, and Darren rolled his eyes.

"The spellbook said it was a literal reverse incantation. Of course it was the spell backwards," Darren said drily. Logan snorted out a laugh.

"Is magic particular about language then?" Logan asked.

"Well, translations always have to be done carefully for a reason, you know," Darren pointed out.

"Or else someone could lose their head trying to cast a dancing spell!" Remus piped up, grinning wide. Logan actually burst out with a warm laugh. Darren stared at him, mystified.

"Well, I'd love to learn more about magic, then. If you're both available on Saturday, we could discuss it over dinner?" Logan suggested. Darren's heart skipped a beat.

"Sure! We'll see you at six?" Remus suggested.

"Six," Logan confirmed with a nod.

Darren squeaked, in a horribly undignified way. "Six."

@tsshipmonth2020

[notapaladin]

save you from that sunday sermon

If you’re reading this, you’ve almost survived 2020! Have some extremely gratuitous priest/religion kink to celebrate. This may or may not be specifically for @votgs; IDK if you’ve yet read the canon this is based on but I hope you like it anyway!

also on AO3, like all my works

-

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

The inside of the confessional booth was dry and smelled of incense. Outside, it promised to be another scorching hot day, but away from the sun all was dark and cool. Soothing, Acatl had always thought.

It was less soothing now.

It wasn’t the first time Teomitl had come to confession, but they were always small things—losing his temper, judging too quickly. He swore he was working on his flaws, and Acatl believed him. They’d known each other since Acatl’s transferal to this large parish, when Teomitl had bounded up to him after Mass with a smile that had struck him to the core. It was a smile he’d soon grown dangerously used to seeing every Sunday, a few rows back from the front. But outside of Mass and confession they never really spoke, and this was the first time Teomitl had ever sat on this side of the screen, in his neatly-pressed suit and shiny shoes and met his eyes.

He swallowed. It didn’t help his dry throat. Christ, but he wished he’d brought a bottle of water in with him. “Go on.”

Teomitl’s eyes were very dark as he crossed himself. “Father, Son, Holy Spirit.” The quick, sure movement of his hand imprinted itself on the back of Acatl’s eyelids when he blinked. “It has been…” And here he paused, frowning. “One week since my last confession?”

“Two.” He’d noticed Teomitl’s absence like a lost tooth. Even mentioning it made his face heat up, and he was glad for the darkness of the booth. It is not a sin to have a routine, he told himself. It’s not a sin to form a friendly attachment. He’s a parishioner, nothing more. Besides, he’ll be off to college in a few months, and I won’t see him again.

But Teomitl was slightly flushed, eyes widening, and he felt himself blush faintly in response. “You noticed?”

Acatl couldn’t look away from his face. “I did. God will forgive whatever sins you’ve committed since then, you know that. You never need to hide from Him.”

Now Teomitl was definitely blushing. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, and Acatl recognized it for the nervous, stalling-for-time gesture it was. “Even if…”

He was silent. In his years as a priest, he’d heard a great deal of sins, many of them sexual, and few truly capable of shocking him. Besides, he couldn’t imagine Teomitl doing anything horrible. Embarrassing, maybe. But a true, mortal sin? No. Not him. He would never. He’s a fine, upstanding young man—better even than I was in the seminary, though of course he’s far more worldly. Indeed, though he always took them out for church Acatl could make out the tiny holes where piercings decorated his earlobes the rest of the week. It was more than a little distracting.

Finally, Teomitl met his eyes again and spoke. “There’s...someone I want very badly, Father.”

Christ on the cross. Not high school relationship drama. “And?”

“Someone—unsuitable.” Teomitl caught his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, gaze drifting to the floor. “My family would never approve.”

He could think of a lot of women who could be unsuitable for the youngest son of an obscenely wealthy family. “Is she too old for you? Too poor? Seeing someone else?” He thought for a moment. “A teacher?” God knows I remember what my last year of high school was like. I think my entire class thought they were in love with the science teacher. Thank goodness all that’s well behind me now.

Teomitl shook his head. After a moment, he took a deep breath. “A man.”

Acatl felt his world gently tilt and resettle itself on this new angle. He knew he should say something—something reassuring, something comforting—but all he could do was blink at nothing. A man, Teomitl had said. Nothing like the awkward mumblings he’d heard before, of Oh, there’s a boy from school…

Eventually, he found his voice, and the words tore themselves from his heart. “Teomitl. God has made you to love whom you love, and He loves you no matter who that is. And love can never be a sin.” I don’t care what your family might have made you think. I’d have words with them, if I thought it would do any good.

Teomitl’s smile lit up the booth. “Mm. I hoped you’d say that.”

He couldn’t help smiling in return. It was infectious, even as it woke a little voice in him that hissed he was going too far, getting too attached. “Tell me about him?”

And now he had the pleasure of watching Teomitl bite his lip, shyly pleased. “Ah. He’s...older than me, and single. Very handsome. Very kind. Patient. I look at him sometimes and think, God, I’m glad he’s not a teacher, I’d die if I had to put up with my idiot classmates being into him. But I still get to see him—and talk to him—so that’s enough.”

“He sounds like a prize.” Acatl was not going to be jealous. He was not. It wasn’t his place. “Are you...going to tell him?”

“Do you think I should?”

It wasn’t a hesitant question. Acatl was sure, looking at Teomitl’s face, that he’d already made up his mind. Still...to be asked for his opinion warmed his heart. “I think that the worst that could happen is that he would turn you down gently, and then you would know how he felt.” And then his brain shut off and his traitorous mouth kept moving, because apparently he had more to say. “But...I cannot see how he’d say no, Teomitl. I can’t see how anyone could say no to you.”

“...Oh.”

Teomitl was silent for a long, long moment. And then he reached across the space separating them, and put a hand on Acatl’s knee.

Acatl promptly forgot how to breathe. The touch electrified him, warm skin searing through the thin fabric of his cassock and the dress slacks he wore underneath it, and even the crimson shame coursing through his veins was erased. Shame required him to think, and he wasn’t capable of that with Teomitl touching him.

“Teomitl.” It came out as a croak.

Teomitl rubbed his thumb in a gentle little circle over the inside of his knee, which didn’t help at all. And then they locked eyes, and the smile that had been flickering around the edges of his face turned slow and hungry. “Father Acatl.”

He became gradually aware that he was gaping like a fish. It took three tries for him to find his voice, and even then he stuttered. “I—you---!”

Teomitl’s eyes gleamed. “I told you. I want you very badly.”

“Ngk.” He’s an incubus in human shape. That’s the only explanation. “I can’t…”

Nails scratched lightly at his thigh, and he made a strangled noise. Teomitl was looking at him through lowered lashes now, pinning him in place with the heat of his gaze. “You just told me you can’t see anyone rejecting me. Are you really not including yourself?”

“I—I am a priest.” It wasn’t an answer.

And Teomitl knew it, because his fingers started to trail lightly up the inside of Acatl’s thigh. “And so?”

“I took vows.” He should pull away. He knew he should pull away. But he couldn’t move, and the blood racing through his veins was pulsing through his cock even from such a simple touch. I’ve never—Christ, I’ve never— He’d never been this close before. He’d never been this tempted before. Outside the confessional, he knew the church was deserted. Nobody would hear if he cried out, and the statues of the saints were only plaster and paint.

“Ah.” Teomitl’s smile turned mocking. “Those. Do they really matter to you right now?”

He drew a slow breath. “They should. I’ve kept them this long.”

“Father.” Now Teomitl was licking his lips, slow and pointed, and he couldn’t look away from how dark they were. It would be so easy—so, so easy—to capture them with his own. “Have you never even thought about…” He trailed off, letting his fingertips continue their slow slide up Acatl’s inseam, and there was no way Acatl could hide his arousal.

He had to close his eyes. He couldn’t lie to Teomitl’s face. “No. Never.”

“A righteous man.”

And gods, his voice was a purr. It made Acatl think of of smashing his vows like glass on the floor, and for a moment all he could do was breathe. “A man of the cloth.” His own voice shook.

Long, strong fingers came to rest at the base of his throat, gently tugging his collar aside. Frozen, feeling his heartbeat in every inch of his own skin, he let it happen. “Too much cloth, I think.”

When he swallowed, Teomitl’s fingers brushed against his bare skin. “You—you’re mocking me.”

Teomitl lowered his voice. There was no more humor in it, nothing but a deadly seriousness. “I do not mock, Father. Look at me.”

He opened his eyes. Teomitl was leaning forward, legs spread and eyes burning. Acatl’s gaze fell unbidden to the bulge in his slacks, and it made his mouth water. His slack fingers twitched at the arms of his chair; for the space of a heartbeat, he was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to touch. To palm all that hardness, to undo belt and zipper and—

He’d never heard his own voice so rough. “I’m looking.”

“It’s all for you.” Teomitl was smiling again, crooked and almost teasing, but the hand that was sliding up Acatl’s thigh was now brushing warm knuckles against his erection and he had to bite back a whine. “If you want to take it.”

He took one deep breath, and another. He was suddenly, acutely aware of all the layers separating their skin, of their suits and his cassock which now definitely had too many buttons—no, he could hike it up, it would be fine. “I—“ There were no words. He had no words here, and no defense in the eyes of God.

Forgive me, O Lord, for what I am about to do.

He stood up, grabbed Teomitl, and pulled him into a hard kiss. It was messy and awkward—he’d only ever kissed anyone once, and that had been at his senior prom just to see what it was like—but Teomitl knew what he was doing; he tilted his head, buried his hands in Acatl’s hair, and made it hungry. Filthy. He heard a growl and realized it was coming from his own throat as their bodies pressed together, molding Teomitl’s lean, solid muscle against his own frame. Too many clothes. We’re wearing—too many fucking clothes—

Teomitl clearly had the same idea. His hands left Acatl’s hair to scramble over his cassock instead, popping buttons and fumbling with his collar until clearly giving it up as a lost cause. “Christ—how many layers—“

Acatl thought he should probably pull away so at least Teomitl could see what he was doing, but it seemed far more important to undo his shirt buttons and bare the base of his throat so he could lower his head and find out what sort of noises the boy made when he put his mouth there. He licked over the pulse in his jugular and was rewarded with a breathless gasp that made him rock forward on instinct, grinding roughly against Teomitl’s hard cock. “Leave it. You say you want me?”

Teomitl let out a frustrated little snarl and grabbed his hips, fingers digging in almost hard enough to hurt. “Fuck. Yes. Jesus, yes—want you to fuck me right here—“

Even the thought of it made him groan, but then the words sank in and his breath stuttered. “I’ve never—I don’t—“ Never thought I’d do this, didn’t plan for this, don’t know how—

“I do.” And Teomitl’s grin was wild and bright as he pressed him against the confessional bench; when the backs of his knees hit the edge they bent automatically, and then his cassock was hiked up around his waist and Teomitl was staring down at him with a predatory light in his eye. His shirt was half undone and there was a red mark on his throat, and he looked obscene.

He looked divine.

“Jesus Christ.”

He didn’t realize he’d spoken the words aloud until Teomitl’s mouth curved into a slow grin. “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

He didn’t get a chance to respond; Teomitl was undoing his belt and stepping neatly out of his trousers and underwear, and his mouth went dry at the sight. He was magnificent. This was worth taking the Lord’s name in vain for. This was worth anything. “Teo—“ He was cut off by Teomitl moving to straddle his thighs, as easily as though he’d done it a hundred times before. Maybe he had; Acatl wouldn’t be surprised.

The hands that freed his erection and gave it a slow, wickedly light caress certainly knew what they were doing, and he had to grit his teeth against an embarrassingly needy hiss. Teomitl’s hot, solid weight pinned him to the bench, leaving him just enough room to rock into that touch; seeking something to anchor him to earth, he dug his nails into Teomitl’s thighs. That got an immediate response—Teomitl’s eyes widened, and he sucked in a hard breath before rasping out, “I’d rather you take me.”

His cock jumped a little at the mere thought, and for a moment he had to squeeze his eyes shut. God, he really wants me—he could have anyone he wanted, anyone at all, and he picked me— “Fuck. Christ. Okay.” Not eloquent, but he was past that now.

There was lube. Thank God there was lube. Thank God that Teomitl had come prepared, was arching his back like something out of the filthiest late-night porn videos he’d ever watched—but better, so much better, because this was real. He slid one slick finger into that heat, careful, and was rewarded with a hitched breath; encouraged, he pressed a kiss to Teomitl’s collarbone and got an actual gasp in response.

He likes that. Good. He mouthed harder at that same spot, the back of his mind spinning into overdrive as he tried to remember what he’d read about how to make it good; Teomitl deserved the best. A bit more lube, a different angle, and suddenly Teomitl’s panting kicked up into a sharp little cry. He trembled at the sound and did it again.

There wasn’t any way Acatl could get deeper, but from the way Teomitl ground his hips he seemed determined to try. “Oh—oh, you liar,” he breathed delightedly, spreading his legs wider for better access. This time when he wriggled it pressed their cocks together, and Acatl had to take a slow breath to keep himself under control.

“I confess in the sight of the Lord my God that I have sinned,” he murmured against Teomitl’s throat, and nipped sharply at the skin to punctuate his words. Then he added another finger, reveling in the incoherent whine that stuttered out. It was tight—tighter than he thought it would be, and for a moment he worried it would hurt—but then Teomitl arched and rolled his hips forward and that seemed to do something, because he had a bit more room to move.

He had to move, had to keep stretching Teomitl open, because to do otherwise would have been to deprive himself of the boy’s reactions. He was done with depriving himself. Each broken gasp and high-pitched keen was music to his ears, a feast for a starving man, and as he left marks all over the long column of Teomitl’s throat he could feel their vibrations against his mouth. Teomitl’s voice nearly cracked when he tried to actually speak. “Ah—hah, Father, please—“

“Hmm?” He’d never felt like this before—stretched taut with power, with anticipation. Dangerous. A blisteringly hot thought lanced through him—Christ, I could keep you strung out like this for hours—and his cock twitched with the intensity of it. He curled his fingers inside him purely to feel the way his walls clenched and rippled, and Teomitl broke.

“Fuck me, damn you!”

He sent up a brief, heartfelt prayer for stamina. He knew he was going to need it. “God—yes—“

And then he was pulling his fingers out, and guiding himself in, and the sheer slick heat bearing down around him made his eyes roll back in his head. Teomitl lowered himself down; he was doing most of the work and Acatl thanked God for that, because it was all he could do to keep himself steady. By the time he was sheathed to the hilt they were both trembling, and he had to drop his head to Teomitl’s shoulder and take a few deep breaths before he could even think coherently. “Oh, my Lord…”

Teomitl hissed through his teeth, rocking impatiently. “Praying at a time like this?”

His body seemed to know what to do better than he did; it was almost second nature to settle his hands at Teomitl’s waist, to brace his feet on the floor and grind his hips up. Teomitl dug his nails into his shoulders, and even through his clothes it made him jolt. “You.” Teomitl did something with his thighs, and for a moment he couldn’t speak at all. “You should try it. Don’t—nngh, recall you actually confessing a sin.”

He could think of a few Teomitl had committed since his arrival; looking at him the way he was now, for instance, was definitely Pride inspiring the sin of Lust. Worse, judging by the way he smirked he was entirely unrepentant. In response to Acatl’s words, he raised his hips up and then sank back down, a smooth motion that pulled a groan out of him. It would be easy, he thought, to let Teomitl do all the work—but he didn’t feel like taking it easy, and Teomitl had been making the sweetest sounds earlier.

It still took a few tries to establish any kind of rhythm; he got nearly a quarter of the way through a mental Our Father before Teomitl shifted his hips at just the right angle, and he bucked his hips up in response, and Teomitl made a desperate noise and clenched down around him so hard he raked his nails down Teomitl’s back and snarled something profane into his ear. “Like that?”

Teomitl nodded frantically and did it again, setting up a steady rise-and-fall; all Acatl could do in response was meet it as best he could. But like this—now that they’d figured out how they were proceeding, now that he knew what to do—he could claw back some of his focus. It was easier to kiss Teomitl like this, rough and messy, and when he bit at his throat Teomitl gasped.

And then he started to speak. “Bless me—Lord—“ Teomitl’s voice went high, reedy, and he keened as Acatl rolled his hips upwards. “For I have—“ He broke off, shuddering, as Acatl thrust wildly up into him again; it did something, hearing the words of a sacrament on his lips at a time like this, and he wasn’t going to question or examine it when it made fire race through his veins.

“Keep going.” He barely recognized his own voice so rough with desire. “I want to—Christ, I want to hear you.” Want the entire chapel to hear you. Want God in his heaven to hear you. Want to make you scream.

Teomitl’s breath hitched, fingers scrabbling down Acatl’s spine; it must have been doing something for him too, because he was riding him even harder. And he kept talking, words broken by near-sobs of pleasure each time Acatl slid deep. “For I have—ah—most wickedly and with full knowledge of the—oh fuck—consequences—ah!”

He raised himself up and Acatl let him, breathing hard. He’d grabbed fistfuls of the back of Teomitl’s shirt; it was possibly the only thing enabling him to keep his focus. “What.”

“Tempted a priest to sin.” Teomitl’s smirk could have tempted a saint. It could have tempted an angel of the Lord. Mary would have thrown away her blessed virginity for that smirk.

Acatl grabbed his hips and pulled him back down. I’ll show you sin, he thought, and after that it blurred a bit. He was aware only of Teomitl’s nails raking over his back, the creak of the bench under them as they moved together, the slick impossible heat of being inside him. Each thrust was another bolt of lightning up his spine, another tight coil of pleasure in his gut, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Just a little longer—please, God, I want to feel him—

Teomitl broke hard, suddenly, and all at once. His back arched, hips snapping, and then he was squeezing down around Acatl’s cock and spilling himself all over both their stomachs with a raw gasp of “Christ,” and there was absolutely no chance of Acatl lasting any longer after that. His own release hit him like an oncoming storm, and for what felt like an eternity his mind was entirely blank with the shock of it.

By the time he could think again, Teomitl had let go of the back of his cassock in favor of wrapping strong, solid arms around him, resting his head against his. It was soothing. Grounding. He needed it; he still felt faintly electrified. Christ. Jesus. “...Virgin Mary, Mother of God.” It came out in a long, mumbling rush, and it was nowhere near enough to express whatever was going through his head. He didn’t even know what was going through his head. He was still buried inside Teomitl, and he didn’t want to leave.

Teomitl took a long breath and let it out in a sigh. “God. Yeah. That was…”

“...Amazing.” There probably wasn’t enough penance in the world for this, but that was a problem for future him. In the meantime, he slid his hands slowly over Teomitl’s bare thighs and nestled his forehead into the curve of his shoulder, feeling their heartbeats slow down to normal.

“...I think I ruined your robe. Coat. Thing.”

He sucked in a lungful of too-warm air and forced down the tide of guilt that wanted to choke him. No. God, I love You, but You are not allowed to ruin this moment. “Cassock. It can be washed.”

Teomitl shifted. It was getting uncomfortable to be so joined together; still, when he lifted himself off of Acatl’s cock, he shuddered at the overstimulation of it. “Nnh...oh, fuck, we made a mess.”

They had. He tried not to think about the actual state of his trousers as he reached for the box of tissues he kept by the bench in case of crying parishioners. Postcoital cleanup was one of those things no amount of independent research had prepared him for, but as awkward as it was, at least it meant he didn’t have to talk. Now that the endorphins were fading, he didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He was far too aware of Teomitl slipping back into his own pants, of the flex of muscle and the rustle of fabric so close to him.

Finally, Teomitl did up his belt and broke the silence between them. “So. Same time next week?”

He nearly choked on his own spit, feeling his face catch fire. “I…”

Worse, Teomitl was smirking again. He could hear it in his voice, that wicked curl that sent heat through his veins all over again. “I’m sure I’ll have a lot to confess.”

Before he could think better of it he drew himself up to better meet Teomitl’s eyes, desire shifting to the first stirrings of irritation. You may tease me, but do not mock me. “We haven’t discussed your penance for this one.”

“Oh?” The question came with a curious tilt of his head, but the gleam in his eyes was far from innocent.

“As you said, you tempted a priest to sin—to break the vows I made before God.” He could hardly believe his own daring. Even after what they’d just done, it seemed like too much of a transgression. He was being too greedy, asking too much. But somehow, it felt right. After breaking one vow, what worth are the rest? When he spoke, his voice didn’t shake at all. “Give me your number. Next time you have these...urges…” He swallowed. “Call me?”

Teomitl’s smile was his answer.

[cagestark]

Could you please write about Tony being jealous after Peter spends too much time sciencing with Bruce?

Sorry if you didn’t want so much angst. Hope this is okay

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: alcoholism. Unhealthy behaviors all around. But it does have a hopeful ending I think. 5.7k

Peter is elbow deep in his paper on NASA’s Fermi Gamma-ray Space Telescope when he gets that tingle, like a finger being dragged up his spine. It sets all his hairs to standing, heart pounding. He is not alone. Keeping perfectly still, he holds his breath to better listen and scans what little of the kitchen he can see without moving his head. But the breaths—so quiet, he can barely hear them—are coming from behind him. The person is still, seated, unthreatening.

He relaxes, twisting on the stool at the island. “Hey, Nat. I didn’t hear you come in.”

She is the picture of poise, perched in the armchair across the room. Peter still isn’t quite used to seeing her like this. In private, she is very different from the woman he first met on the tarmac in Germany with the chic hair and tight, dark outfit. Not relaxed, per se, but maybe as relaxed as the assassin can be, dressed in loungewear, face clear of makeup, her growing hair plaited back. It must be a huge sign of trust for her to show this side of herself, but Peter has been told that he always looks for the best in people.

“Peter,” she greets coolly. Her legs cross, slowly, the dragging of nylon loud. He thinks she might be trying to seduce him. The Avengers already know that he is gay, but maybe old habits die hard. His internal character assessment almost causes him to miss what she says next: “Are you aware of what you’re doing?”

Peter blinks. He points at the paper scrawled with notes. “Actually. Not really. I’m working on this paper for my Physics class, see. But we’ve been discussing gamma-rays and there is something about electromagnetic—”

“I mean with Bruce and Tony,” Natalie says.

His face puckers into a comical expression of confusion, glancing around the kitchen like the two scientists might actually be there without him knowing. “Uh—nothing?”

She looks unimpressed. “You’ve been spending every day with Bruce in his lab or up on the roof.”

Does she think that something is like, going on with Peter and Dr. Banner?

“We’re looking for signs of gamma radiation in thunderclouds. There was a big study last month that found gamma-rays preface some lightning strikes—” Natasha’s flat, unmoved stare stops him before his rambling monologue can truly begin. He swallows, throat dry, feeling some sort of dread in his gut, though he doesn’t know why.

Why is she being so cold to him, right now? It’s reminiscent of the stress dreams he used to have after Tony first offered him the position with the Avengers, dreams where he moved into the tower only for everyone to ostracize him and ignore him, dreams where Tony and Steve would sit down with him and say, Sorry Pete, it isn’t working out, you don’t mesh well with us, and may we please have back your suit?

“What is it?” Peter asks, trying to be brave. “Have I—did I do something?”

Natasha sighs, lifting herself from the armchair gingerly like she is twice or thrice her real age. She crosses the room and he has to force himself not to move away. The tingle is back, and this time, that primal spider-instinct inside him feels threatened, like he is bug beneath an incoming shoe. A large black stiletto maybe, with the Black Widow insignia on the bottom like a target for where his tiny body ideally will be smushed.

But he overrides the instinct and swallows down the fear: this is Natasha. She wouldn’t hurt him.

She does box him in, though, coming into his space and bracketing him with her arms, palms flat on the marble countertop behind him. “Tony doesn’t like me, much, Peter. Surely even you have noticed that. I once broke his confidence in me, and now I work very hard to make that up to him. You could say that a part of my reparations involves looking out for him.”

“That’s really nice of you,” Peter says, polite but firm. “I like to look out for Mr. Stark too. Excuse me—could you give me some space?”

After another moment, she pulls away. “You’re too smart to play dumb. Stop hurting Tony.”

Then she is snatching an apple out of the fruit bowl and strolling out of the room, not even leaving the scent of perfume behind. Peter feels baffled enough by the conversation to wonder if maybe the entire thing hadn’t been a hallucination. There’s no feasible way that Peter could be hurting Mr. Stark—he’s barely seen the man all week, since Peter has been so busy being tutored Bruce for his physics class.

Still, it takes him a long ten minutes for his senses to stop feeling like he’s in danger, and by then, he has completely lost his train of thought for outlining his paper. Sighing, he closes the book.

-

“It’s just going over my head,” Peter admits. It’s the weekend, when any other college student would be out on the town. Not many college students have the option of hanging out with the Avengers though, so. You know. Peter isn’t totally lame. At this time on a Saturday evening, most of the core Avengers are occupying their floor in the Tower. Peter has his own room there, with sheets that are royal blue and soft as silk and a picture on the wall of Tony presenting him with his Stark Industries internship certificate. “Every other aspect of physics is cake to me. Chocolate cake, even.”

“That’s his favorite,” Clint supplies helpfully. He’s playing cards with Nat and Tony at the other end of the island. Natalie is the best bluffer, but Tony can count cards in his sleep, so the odds are pretty evenly stacked, he’d say.

“Yes, it’s my favorite—! But as soon as gamma-rays come in, it’s like my brain shorts out. I failed the quiz over these, and it’s throwing off my curve. If I don’t ace the paper, I’ll freak out.”

“Cheer up, kid,” Tony says. There is an amber glass at his elbow, even though it was whispered very quietly around the tower a few months ago that Mr. Stark was working on getting sober. Peter guesses that it isn’t going well. Now that he looks closely, the man doesn’t look well at all: thinner, grayer, sadder. His dress-shirt collar is rumpled. That’s so not Mr. Stark. His voice is a warm vibrato that Peter feels in his bones: “Take a break. We’ll deal you in. No one is good at everything.”

“What are you bad at?” Natasha asks, maybe flattering him, maybe teasing.

The smile Tony gives her shows too much teeth to be friendly, eyes hidden behind his tinted glasses that he is wearing more often than not these days. “I’m bad at plenty of things, Miss Rushman.”

“He’s right, Peter,” Bruce says. They’re at the other end of the island, both of their shoulders aching from hunching over Peter’s textbooks for the last hour and change. “This is pretty advanced stuff. Difficult enough for scientists who are in this field to grasp. You said that this isn’t the focus of your major? Then I wouldn’t stress over it.”

Peter is stressing though. MIT has been tougher than he thought it would be, and he still worries that his success in high school was just him being a big fish in a small pond. Suddenly the pond is bigger: a fucking ocean. He feels like algae on the waves, tossed to and fro compared to some of his classmates.

Glancing up, he catches Natasha’s eyes. She is watching him, face blank, but he can’t help but feel that there is a silent message in her eyes. Seeing her unfriendly disposition makes him remember the conversation they had the day before—the one where she threatened him, in vague terms. Against his will, his eyes flicker to Tony. The drink beside his chips is empty now. His elbow is propped on the table and his chin rests in it, one shaking thumb running over the edge of his cards. He looks lost in thought. Sad thought.

“Maybe you’re right,” Peter says slowly. He closes his book. “Go ahead and deal me in, Mr. Stark.”

And that makes Tony sit back in his seat in surprise, glasses slipping down his nose to show pleased though bloodshot eyes. He grins—not one of those shark-grins he gave Natasha, but a real one. A smile. It makes butterflies spread their wings in Peter’s gut. God, he’s had a crush on the man for, like, ever. But Mr. Stark is a crush so unobtainable that Peter’s never even had to stress over it. Never had to stress about the juvenile stuff like does he like me back or what can I do to make him notice me. He’s just able to melt in it, enjoy his attraction and idol-worship. It’s all very sexually frustrating and uncomplicated.

Tony pulls back the stool at his side and pats it invitingly. When Peter sits down, he can just barely smell the bourbon on the older man’s breath. Tony then asks: “Bruce, do you want in on this, too?”

There is a difference in the way the billionaire asked Bruce to play when compared to when he asked Peter, but Peter can’t put his finger on what it is. Something about the tone, the inflection... Under the countertop, Tony’s hand comes to rest on Peter’s knee for a moment, squeezing warmly. But then it doesn’t move, just rests there, burning a hole through Peter’s jeans. It prickles, but this is a different kind of danger, he thinks. He’s so busy trying to remember how to accomplish basic human functions like breathing and swallowing that he completely misses Bruce’s response—a kind no thanks. Then Tony’s thumb is moving, brushing the outside of Peter’s leg in a few slow, firm strokes, and Peter feels a dangerous stirring in his pants. The hand starts to slide up his leg—

Then the hand is gone. His blood is still rushing south, propelled by his hammering heart, but it’s like all his senses beside touch come rushing back the moment Tony removes his hand—Clint is dealing, cards whispering over marble as he passes them out, Natasha and Tony are bickering though Peter doesn’t yet have the brainpower to decipher what about. His knee is still burning hot, and it tingles for the rest of the night.

But he doesn’t think it’s his imagination that the entire evening is lighter, smiles and laughter flowing more freely, and when Mr. Stark gets up to get a drink, he comes back with water.

-

From then on, Peter’s image of Mr. Stark begins to change. Mostly thanks to the patchwork of knowledge Natasha feeds him in passing moments—when they encounter each other in the hall going different directions, when she is running on the treadmill beside him in the gym, when she passes behind him at the kitchen island for another apple, or, like today, an orange.

“He only drinks when he’s sad,” she says in his ear.

Peter starts to look for that as an indicator to Mr. Stark’s mood: times when it’s late at night and he walks in on Mr. Stark standing alone by the window looking at the view of the city, shaking hand clutching a drink that rattles when he sets it down to avoid Peter seeing it. Nights when Tony passes through the living area, glancing at the group gathered around (almost always Clint and Nat watching television, and Peter and Bruce talking through Peter’s homework), rejecting their offer for him to join with a quiet, just passing through, before grabbing a bottle from the kitchen and disappearing into the elevator. If Tony drinks when he’s sad, then he is often sad.

Peter thinks it’s safe to assume that when Tony isn’t drinking, he’s happy—or at least neutral. And taking into account the poker tournament from a few weeks before, Peter begins to notice that he himself seems to make Tony happy.

The knowledge weighs down his shoulders…but mostly, it makes him feel full of helium, light and bouncy, liable to lift off the ground and break through the atmosphere should he not hold on to the world around him. Peter makes Tony happy. For some reason.

“Everything he does is for other people,” she pants, trying to keep up with his enhanced abilities in the workout room. Peter himself is sweating from the break-neck pace he’s adopted on the treadmill, but he doesn’t need to focus to run, so instead his mind is far away.

Natasha is absolutely right. The topic is a sore spot. Peter knows that there were cutting words exchanged between Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers at the beginning of their relationship when the super soldier accused him of selfishness. It’s obvious how little they knew each other then, because even now he sees the fondness Steve has in his eyes for Tony, the gratefulness he exudes and goes out of his way to express to the billionaire. Tony funds the entire Avengers Initiative. He lets them live expense free in his home, feeds them, clothes them, patches them up. Scraping by with his Aunt for most of his life in a tiny apartment in Queens has made Peter keenly aware of all the things he has in his life now, solely thanks to Mr. Stark. And the older man doesn’t bat an eye at it.

And alright, Tony is a billionaire. Those expenses probably don’t scrape the surface of his wealth. Yet there are many other ways his altruism is expressed, ways only Tony Stark could express them. When Peter’s suit was malfunctioning in the wetter-than-usual New York springtime, Tony didn’t sleep for three days while working on it. Got to make sure you’re safe, kid, he’d muttered. Wouldn’t get a bit of sleep otherwise. Tony hadn’t even delivered it in person so that Peter could thank him, just left it neatly for him outside his bedroom door.

There were other things, of course. Providing Bruce his own lab and the resources to expand his research. Once he sat for a portrait at Steve’s insistence, and it was the stillest he’s ever seen the billionaire be. Mr. Stark makes it his personal responsibility to enrich the lives of those around him—he even seems to enjoy it—

“Did you hear me, Peter?” Natasha asks.

Peter stops the treadmill, jogging while it slowly decreases the pace. He’s been a thousand miles away, or several stories away, rather, down in the lab with Tony. “Sorry, I didn’t.”

“I said—what does he have for himself? What does he want for himself?”

Then she is gone, ponytail bouncing as she disappears towards the showers, a towel over her shoulder. Tony has everything. He has an inordinate amount of money at his disposal. What he could possibly want for?

The questions haunt Peter for the rest of the night, even as he spends the evening in Bruce’s lab while the man reads over his paper on the Fermi Telescope. Peter is anxiously squeezing a stress ball—carefully, though, because last time he truly squeezed one, it crumbled in his hand—when Tony appears in the doorway. He’s dressed in what Peter knows to be his lab-attire: comfortable, cheap t-shirt, jeans that are wearing through at the knees. The man’s hair is un-styled, free from gel, and it looks so soft—

“Hey, Pete,” Tony says. “Bruce.”

Bruce doesn’t even greet him, still reading Peter’s paper. He does lift a hand though.

“I brought the LVC permits for you, fresh off the government’s press.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Bruce says absently.

“What are you doing up here, Pete?” Tony asks, putting the papers on a nearby lab table. There’s something in the older man’s voice—something. But Peter’s never been good at stuff like that: deciphering looks, or tones, or subtextual clues. On instinct, he scans the man’s face, trying to determine his mood. It doesn’t look promising, the circles dark beneath his eyes, the frown lines deep. Even when he smiles, it looks tired and sad.

“Just having Bruce look over my paper, Mr. Stark.”

“When are you ever going to call me Tony, kid?”

Peter laughs a little. “Never, probably,” he jokes.

Tony doesn’t look like he thought the joke was funny. He gives a half-hearted wave goodbye and then disappears. Peter is at the perfect angle to watch him through the glass door. He stops outside the elevator and hits the button, leans his head forward to press his forehead to the doors, the picture of dejection. There is an uncomfortable knot growing in Peter’s stomach.

What could the man who has everything possibly want?

Bruce glances up ten minutes later after flipping to the last page, glasses a little askew. “Was that Tony I heard?”

-

The days afterwards, Natasha seems more disgusted with him than usual. Her occasional comments about Mr. Stark have stopped, and Peter laments the loss of help, because he feels no closer to understanding what she wants from him or what’s wrong with Mr. Stark.

Peter spends his nights laying in bed, restless, staring up at the ceiling to avoid listening to the distant movements of the Avengers around him in their own respective rooms—he didn’t need to know so much about Steve and Bucky’s after-hour activities, thanks very much—pouring over his interactions with Natasha.

What do you think you’re doing with Bruce and Tony? she had asked. And what was Peter doing? He’d been spending much more time with Bruce lately trying to grasp gamma-rays. Usually his time was spent equally divided between patrolling, school, homework, and spending time down in the lab with Tony. Of those things to take the backburner, it had been his time spent with his idol-cum-crush. Was the man feeling neglected?

Peter rolls out of bed. He’s tempted to put on his suit and go into stealth-mode, but instead, he tiptoes out of his room in his pajama bottoms and t-shirt, using all of his enhanced senses to make sure he doesn’t encounter any other Avenger on his way to Natasha’s room. When she opens the door, she looks like he’s the last person she ever wanted to see on the other side.

“It’s late,” she says. Peter slips through the crack between her and the door anyway, but he figures if she truly wanted to keep him out, she might have tried. You know. At all.  

Her rooms are as large as Peter’s, tastefully decorated. He notes that the only personal decorations in the room involve the Avengers: the group photograph taken of them and a few drawings of Steve’s, framed carefully.

“I’ve been thinking about all of the things you said, and I still don’t get it. I don’t know what’s going on—I see that there’s something wrong but I don’t know why and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Natasha sighs, already opening the door to usher him back out. “Everyone needs everything spelled out for them. It’s late, and I’m tired. Tony likes you. You like Tony. Quit choosing Bruce over him, or I’ll have to spend the next few weeks finding an incredible foreign benefactor willing to sponsor Bruce’s work only if he relocates overseas. That takes a lot of work Peter. A lot of work. Now get out, and fix this mess.”

He doesn’t even hear the real door shut in his face, because he’s too stunned by the metaphorical door that has been shut in his face. He gapes at the hardwood, eyes unseeing, all of his senses growing dim as he focuses his brainpower on the words that just spilled out of Natasha’s mouth.

Tony likes you. You like Tony. Quit choosing Bruce.

Peter lays awake the entire night. He can’t spot Natasha’s angle, can’t determine why she’d want to lie to him that way. Surely she has some sort of motive that Peter can’t see—he’s not a super-secret-spy type. Espionage and subtext aren’t his forte. She could probably run cryptic circles around him, and Tony once jokingly said that Natasha wouldn’t even sneeze unless she wanted someone to say bless you. So what is this? What is she doing to him? Hoping to embarrass him? Maybe she thinks that he’ll make some grand gesture, some romantic monologue to Tony and he’ll be so crushed at the subsequent rejection that he’ll leave the tower and stop Avenging altogether.

When sunlight is coming through the tinted windows of his room, he has not slept a wink, and has the throbbing headache to show it. His paper is due by 11:59 PM, and he still has a few revisions he needs to make. The other quizzes on gamma-rays and other electromagnetic radiations weren’t much better than the first, and all of his hopes for maintaining his perfect grade point average are riding on this one paper.

He dresses, only able to find mismatched socks, and takes the subway to make it to class on time. He’s there until early afternoon, and by the time he arrives back in the Tower, his stomach is growling painfully and he’s emotionally at the end of his rope. Why hadn’t he taken a gap year before starting school like Ned had? Maybe a year older, Peter would be more capable of handling all that is on his plate. As it is, he feels like a waiter balancing one-too-many glasses of water. Failure seems imminent.

As soon as he is in the tower, he cracks open his laptop and begins to finish the revisions Bruce advised him on—but then the word count is just under what the professor asked for, and now Peter is scrambling for extra content. His senses alert him that someone is coming, but he knows the length of the steps to be Tony.

“Hey Pete,” Tony mutters, looking like he just woke even though it is nearly three in the afternoon.

“Hey Mr. Stark,” says Peter. “How are you?”

“Has this coffee been here long?” Tony asks, pointing to the half-full pot. His hand is shaking.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I just got here.” Peter frowns to himself, fingers hovering over the keyboard even his brain feels like a train stuck on the same track. He has to say something to Mr. Stark. Has to. “Hey—um. I wanted to say. While you’re here—”

His mouth dries up as Tony turns to give him his full attention. The man is always so courteous, stopping whatever he’s doing to listen to what Peter has to say. It’d be impossible not to notice that the man has a problem with interrupting, talking over other people. But it’s never been that way with Peter. He stops. He listens with a kind of single-minded intensity that makes the younger man flushed. That much focus and attention feels like a laser beam directed at him, about to dissolve him into goo.

“—I wanted to say. That I hope we can hang out again soon.”

Tony leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. For a guy in his 40’s, he’s still fucking fit, biceps thick and strong, core toned. “I hope so too, kid. I’ve—missed you.”

Peter melts, heart aching in equal parts joy and sadness. “Maybe tonight? If you’re free. I could come down to the lab.”

Tony feigns like he’s thinking it over, knuckles rasping against his chin. “What about your—” he waves a vague hand at the laptop on the countertop. “I don’t want to come between you and school, Pete. I’m not very good at being a responsible role-model, but even I know that your education is important. That should be your focus.”

“Don’t worry about it. How does seven sound? I’ll finish this up, get it turned it, and then I’m all yours. I mean—we can—you know. Hang.”

The older man has that look he always gets when Peter’s mouth runs away from the rest of his consciousness: equal parts amusement and endearment and exasperated fondness. “Sounds good. You know where to find me.”

Peter does know. He does. The knowledge weighs on him for the next four hours that he spends staring at his laptop, writing a sentence just to destroy it, flipping frantically through the notes that Bruce gave him. Not meeting the word count means that he will automatically lose 10% of his grade, no matter how good the paper might be. But it’s like his brain is drawing a blank, all cylinders firing emptily.

By the time he is done, it ten PM. The hours ate him up like quicksand. His head aches with exhaustion, eyes burning from staring at the glow of the laptop, but he rushes into the elevator, eyes filling with tears. Surely Tony will understand why Peter is late. But it still makes him feel like shit.

“To the lab please, FRIDAY.”

The elevator moves without any verbal confirmation from the AI. By the time the doors open, he realizes he’s made a mistake. The lab is dark and quiet, lacking the usual soundtrack of classic rock hits. When he grasps the handle, it doesn’t turn. He’s too late. Mr. Stark was probably so angry that he went straight upstairs to the penthouse. If Peter were to follow, the door would probably be locked against him, refusing him entrance—

The door beneath him opens, automatic lock clicking open. Peter nearly falls through as it swings inward, his enhanced senses being his only saving grave. The lab is even more eerie from the inside, because it is all right and all wrong mixed together. The smell is comforting. The darkness is unsettling. He knows this place like the back of his hand when it is lit, but suddenly it is an entirely foreign place as he wanders through, carefully feeling his way, unsure why he hasn’t turned around and left yet.

Lights come up, blue dots like holographic breadcrumbs on the floor. FRIDAY. Where is she leading him, and why?

The lights circle on lab table, and when he comes close his eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness to see why. Mr. Stark is there, slumped over the lab table. Peter would say that he is asleep except for the stench of alcohol and the empty bottles beside him, faceless in the dark. Sad sentinels watching over their king.

“Oh Tony,” he says. His heart feels too heavy for his ribs to hold. He puts a hand on the man’s shoulder, gently trying to rouse him. It doesn’t work. Even when he whispers the man’s name in increasingly louder increments, the man doesn’t stir. Throat closed up tight in the fist of fear, he gently presses two fingers to just under the man’s jaw—

Tony jerks away from the lab table, striking out at Peter. His aim is off, so his knuckles barely glance against the younger man’s chest. The force of the failed punch tips over the chair and Tony nearly falls to the floor—would, if Peter weren’t there to catch him. Still he struggles against a foe he doesn’t recognize.

“Getaway—”

“Mr. Stark—it’s me, Peter.”

Mr. Stark blinks, eyes moonish in the dark. He squints. “Pete?” he asks, voice thick.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m so sorry that I’m late.” He guides the man back to the chair and searches for one of his own, finds a stool with wheels and rolls it over so they can sit side by side. Tony is swaying dangerously even just sitting.

“’s okay, Pete,” Tony says. “You were with Bruce.”

“What?” Peter cries. “No, I wasn’t. I was working on my paper, remember? Just like I told you in the kitchen? Why would I be with Bruce when I had—” he just barely catches himself before the words a date slip past his lips, “—when I had plans with you?”

The laugh the older man gives is mirthless, slumped over the table. With every shaking breath comes a cloud of acrid liquor. Peter has never understood how Tony could drink that stuff, alcohol with so much burn and no sweetness or sourness. “Why wouldn’ you be with Bruce, kid? I get it.”

“I don’t know what there is to get,” Peter says gently. He knows from his minimal experience with drunk people that drunkenness heightens emotion, and they can be as likely to lash out in anger as they are to burst into tears. Without his suit, Mr. Stark probably couldn’t hurt Peter even sober, but he doesn’t want the man to hurt himself.

“No, no, Bruce ‘s a great guy. He’s a great man. Better man th’n me.”

Peter gapes, even if Mr. Stark isn’t even looking or couldn’t even see him through the darkness. Because, what? Seriously? “Mr. Stark, you’re like the greatest man I know. I don’t—I don’t know anybody who I, I admire or look up to the way that I do you.” That answer is maybe a little too honest, but he can’t help it. This vulnerability, this sheer pain coming from the man who has held Peter’s heart between his palms since he was just a little boy. It’s a terrible thing to witness, and he’d do anything to change it.

“You’re a good kid,” says Tony. He reaches with a hand like he wants to pat Peter on the head but loses strength far before then.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Mr. Stark.”

Tony laughs again in that terrible depreciating way. He rests his forehead in his palm, staring down at the lab table. “Trust me, Pete. I know.”

“Why have you been so upset lately?” Peter asks smally. “I’ve been worried.”

“Didn’t mean to worry you, honey.” The name makes Peter glow, even if its slurred in that terrible, sad voice. “I guess ’ve been—going through some stuff.”

“Like what?”

The exhale he gives is long and loud in the quiet lab. “Adult stuff.”

“What, like, erectile dysfunction?”

The sound Tony makes is indignant. “No you little shit.” It’s said with unbearable tenderness and fondness though, until it almost feels like a caress instead of an insult. “Just, you know, your general everyday average feelings of inadequacy and unbearable loneliness.”

“You’re too hard on yourself Mr. Stark. I mean what I said. You’re the greatest man I know and I—I like you a whole lot. I know you’re having a tough time. But I’m here for you. And I know that you don’t think I’m strong enough, but you can lean on me. I can take it.”

When Tony stirs, lifting his head from his hands long enough to glance at Peter, his cheeks are wet, tracks of tears that just barely catch the light. He could almost mistake it as his mind playing tricks on him, but the man’s shoulders begin to tremble like his hands when he hasn’t had a drink, and Peter gets off of the stool so quickly that it goes rolling in the other direction.

Peter wraps his arms around Tony, pulling his head to his chest like a mother might hold a baby to her breast. There are no sounds, no sobs or whimpers, but the shaking lasts forever it seems. Then all at once the man melts, soft and languid. When he pulls away a hairsbreadth, Peter’s shirt is wet where his face was pressed.

He turns his head and leans in again, this time resting his temple on Peter’s abs. The younger man barely resists carding his fingers through Tony’s hair—just lets one hand gently rub at his back instead. When he speaks Peter can feel the movement on his stomach. “You’re too good f’r me, Pete. I’m so sorry I’m like this. Hated seeing you spend so much time with Bruce ‘cause I’m just a jealous old pervert. A fucking drunk, just like Howard—”

“Don’t say that.”

“’s true, kid.”

Peter swallows, struggling to gather courage. But if he can’t ask questions of Tony now when the man is drunk and possibly unlikely to remember them, when the man is too relaxed to lie, then when can he? “Why—why are you a pervert?”

All the breath seems to go out of Tony in a hot rush of air that Peter can feel through his shirt. “C’mon kid. You have to know.”

It does all make sense then: Tony’s recent behavior, Natasha’s cryptic comments.

What does he want for himself, she had asked.

Carefully—so, so, so carefully—Peter lets his hand drift up the back of Tony’s neck and slide into his hair, dark waves that are soft and free of product. It feels like silk under his fingertips, so fucking intimate. If this is all he gets of Tony, then he’s going to savor it, sear it into his memory. Blunt nails scratch gently at the man’s scalp and he purrs. He groans, the vibrations sinking through cotton and skin and muscle deep into Peter’s bones. “God, Pete,” he says. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Peter gasps. He’s hard, 0 to 60 in the blink of an eye, heart hammering, struggling to draw in breaths. “I won’t, Tony.”

“Never stop,” Tony groans softly. “You are the most important thing in my life, kid.”

And then the man is asleep, snoring breaths into Peter’s abs. It takes a while, listening to the gentle breathing, for Peter to calm down. “FRIDAY,” he croaks. “Unmute.”

“Thank you, Peter,” she says. “May I turn the lights on? I’m afraid boss might need some assistance getting to his room tonight. Would you be of service?”

“Yes. To all counts, FRIDAY. Thanks.”

“You are welcome.” A pause. “And thank you, Peter.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he mutters, hoisting the heavier man up. There’s no use putting just an arm over his shoulder—Tony is out cold. Instead, Peter scoops him up, grateful for his enhanced strength, and begins the trek to the elevator.

In the morning when Tony wakes, Peter will be there waiting. With some water and aspirin.

Because they need to talk.

[sparrellow]

diamrem

Rin was not the Little Mermaid, not an Ariel, not some tragic, beautiful fish-girl. However, she was cursed, and she was doomed to be half-fish for the rest of her life (barring some miracle happening before she turned 18).

rating: T genre: romance/fantasy/fluff/humor/a smidge of angst ships: primarily rin/len, a whiff of gumi/miku words: 8,458

No one knew how, or when, or where, Rin’s family’s curse began.

Her mother went through it. And her mother’s father went through it. And her mother’s father’s mother went through it, too. But the curse always followed the same set of rules: don’t touch water in front of another human, and fall in love before the age of 18 unless you want to be a half-fish forever.

They were both the most challenging set of rules to follow, especially with unpredictable weather, compulsory school swimming carnivals and a face only a mother could love. Rin only had about 15 seconds flat to dry herself before turning to some human-experiment-with-tuna-gone-wrong in front of every other person around her.

Bath times were not fun, and required some tricky maneuvering with a wet towel and a bathtub and lightning-fast reflexes. 

Thank god her family doctor didn’t ask questions when giving her a note to excuse her from any water-related activities she had to participate in at school, having been familiar with her mother’s ‘afflictions’. (He probably knew more than what he was letting on, and god knows what her mother had said to persuade him). Something something ‘severely allergic to the chemicals in water’ did the trick, usually.

But of course. Then there was… the uh, sad Swan Princess-like situation with her falling in love with someone before the age of 18, or else becoming a mermaid forever. And it couldn’t be like, a fake or forced or one-sided situation. It had to be, like, real -real love. Like the other party had to feel actual romantic love for you, and you had to reciprocate it.

That was, um, big yikes. Rin had pretty much signed that off as impossible, considering her ‘puberty glow-up’ was yet to come and she was nearing her 18th birthday very soon. Besides, the boy she’d been pining for for the past, uh, eleven-or-so years was so much as oblivious to her affections.

Oh, woe.

Her mother had tried her best to comfort her and guide her to a more positive way of thinking, claiming, “You never know what’s right around the corner.” But her birthday was now ‘right around the corner’, so all hope was dwindling fast.

She wouldn’t even get to graduate high school. That was sad. Plus, the seaside near her town was definitely not nice, and the thought of having to swim in that polluted hot-mess made her feel even more miserable than before. 

This curse sucked. (But that was the point of a curse, she supposed).

When her friends at school asked her what she wanted for her birthday during November, she couldn’t help but answer with somewhat cynicism, “True love’s first kiss.”

Gumi blinked at her, before turning to look at Len, who seemed to be taking her answer very seriously. He tilted his head, then asked Gumi, “Is it a perfume or makeup brand or something…?”

Rin wanted to slap him for being so… so Len, but Gumi just gave him this look. “Do you have peas for a brain? The girl meant a literal first kiss.” She then thought for a moment. “Although, that’s a super out-of-character request from you, Rin.”

“It’s complicated,” was Rin’s simple, yet vague, answer, before she turned away to lean her head on her palm and look out the window like a pensive anime school boy.

Her friends were discussing something heatedly with each other under their breaths for a moment, but she wasn’t bothering to eavesdrop. Gumi knew as much that Rin had a very sad crush on Len, but she was a good enough person to never tell. Come to think of it, the girl knew a lot of people’s secrets.

Hmm.

Len stepped around into her field of vision with a very serious expression. “Do you mean a thimble?”

“Enough already!” Gumi barked, yanking him backwards by the collar. “You don’t need to answer that.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she said.

Gumi’s eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead, a concerned look crossing her face. But before she could mention what was on her mind, the homeroom bell rang, and the pair had to skedaddle back to their desks, probably up in arms trying to figure out her cryptic request.

But it was alright. Rin already knew she wasn’t going to get it.

She was going to be a fish.

.

“You know, you’ve… seemed kind of down, lately,” Gumi said offhandedly one afternoon, as they were taking a drink break during track and field club. 

Len was off goofing around with some other boys in the club, currently in headlock and receiving a noogie from fellow classmate, Kaito.

Rin took a sip of her water, careful not to pour it down the front of herself and cause panic. “I’ve just got things on my mind,” she said. “18th birthdays are pretty big in my family.”

Gumi raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Tradition or something.” Of course, Rin hadn’t told anyone the truth. Everyone thought she was just kind of odd and hated swimming. Even though she trusted Gumi, a big ball of everyone’s secrets, she just couldn’t imagine the absurdity of such a situation, and that daunted her a little. Besides, she was kind of embarrassed by the whole fish-body thing. It wasn’t as cute as it looked in movies.

She still didn’t know how her mum broke the news to her dad about the whole curse-thing, especially since it would also affect their children. She’d never even gotten around to really asking about how it all went down.

“I didn’t realise it was big for you,” Gumi said, tucking her knees up to her chest and casting a look over at Len being a gremlin with the other kids. “Is that why you came out with the whole true love’s first kiss thing?”

Rin nodded.

“Are your parents going to like, betroth you to some random guy or something if you don’t find a boyfriend beforehand?”

Rin snorted. “No. No. Thankfully, no,” she said. “It’s nothing like that.”

Gumi eyed her. “Alright. As long as you’re not being forced into some child-bride situation.”

“I’m not,” Rin said, giving her a solemn look. “I’m not. Seriously.”

Her friend then smirked a little, looking back over at the other club members. Len was now doing handstands and showing off to the underclassmen. Some girls were cooing over him or something. 

“So, what about Len?” Gumi asked, sounding very casual although it was definitely a strategic maneuver.

“What about what about Len?” Rin asked back.

“Why not confess to him? If you’re so worried about the whole true love kiss thing?”

Rin hated how Gumi suggested it so smoothly, like it was absolutely nothing, but she knew this girl had it planned. She frowned. “Confess to him? Are you mad? I’d rather stick my hand into a bouquet of cacti.”

“Why not?” Gumi pushed, glancing back at her. “Who’s to say it would turn out poorly?”

“What, did you ask him if he’d say yes?” Rin raised an eyebrow at her.

Gumi smiled coolly. “No. But you know, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

Rin huffed. “It would hurt my feelings.”

Of course, the conversation ended there because Len came jogging over to flop down ungracefully onto the grass beside them. After taking some huge gulps of water from his bottle, he looked over at them with a grin. 

“What’s up, ladies?”

“The sky,” Rin and Gumi answered in unison.

“Did I interrupt an important discussion, or something?” he asked, sensing the remnants of Rin’s discomfort. 

Gumi didn’t wait for Rin to answer. “Just girl things,” she said.

Len screwed up his face, pretending to be disgusted. “Eww.”

“Periods, periods, periods,” Rin then chanted. “Boobs, boobs, boobs.”

“Hey, I’ll always join a conversation about boobs,” he said, earning him a whack over the head from Gumi. He winced, but kept his grin the whole time.

“Well, unfortunately you and I don’t have much to bring to the table, so Gumi’s the boob expert here,” Rin jested.

Len took another swig of water, swallowed hard, then said without the bat of an eyelid, “Small boobs are just as valid as big ones, Rin.”

Gumi applauded slowly. “Wow, an award-winning statement from Mr. Len here. Making those girls swoon.”

He winked at her. “You know I’m a chick magnet.”

“Unfortunately,” the two girls chorused, both unimpressed by his confidence.

“Okay, okay. Today’s Pick On Len Day. Fine. I get it,” Len said, rolling his eyes. He tossed his bottle to the ground and stood, stretching his legs. “Watch me go beat my track record,” he added over his shoulder before running off to join the group.

Gumi looked at Rin with a sly expression, before jumping up to jog after him.

Rin rolled her neck and sighed, following suit.

.

It came very suddenly.

One day at lunch, Len said, with a mouthful of fried rice, “You know, Miku’s kind of cute.”

Rin choked on her broccoli and Gumi paused, chopsticks stuck in her mouth as she looked at him with wide eyes.

Len blinked innocently. Rin reached for her water through a coughing fit and Gumi set down her chopsticks to pat her on the back. 

“What makes you say that, Len?” Gumi said, sounding very confused.

He shoved another spoonful of rice into his gob and leaned his head on his hands, looking over at said classmate—a very pretty girl with long, teal pigtails. “Well, you know, just look at her.”

Rin was stewing. This was like a double-whammy punch to the gut. Her appetite for lunch had completely vanished.

They followed his gaze and watched the girl, who was chatting with her friends across the classroom. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and then, as if sensing their eyes on her, glanced over in their direction.

Len gave a friendly wave, and Miku smiled back sheepishly.

Oh no.

“I… guess,” Gumi grumbled, turning away. Her ears were pink.

“Don’t you think so too, Rin?” Len asked, now looking at her.

Rin was packing away her half-eaten lunch. Hesitating, she chewed on her lip. She could be petty and disagree, but what would that do? Besides, it was true. Miku was super cute. “Er… yeah,” she answered.

“Do you know if she’s dating anyone?” Len continued, unknowingly driving the knife deeper into the wound.

Gumi cleared her throat. “No. She’s not.”

Len seemed pleased by this answer. “Hmm.”

It was then Gumi looked over at Rin, with a somewhat apologetic look. What was happening here?

Rin took the initiative, biting down on her wound. “So, you want to ask her out?” she asked in a weak voice.

Len burst into laughter. Nervous laughter? Rin couldn’t tell. But his outburst seemed to have surprised Gumi, too. “What? Me? Ask her out? No,” he said. “I’m probably not even her type.” This time he looked straight at Gumi.

Rin opened her mouth. “Okay. So… why…”

“Len,” Gumi interrupted, in a tone that meant business. “Can you walk me to the vending machine downstairs? Those creepy guys are bothering me again.”

Len raised his eyebrows. “Again? I thought they’d been dealt with.”

“Well,” she said. “It’s happening again and I’m thirsty. Please.”

He shrugged, muttering something under his breath Rin didn’t quite catch, and the pair of them then disappeared, leaving her to sit alone and wallow in her feelings.

Well. That was a bad time.

Rin wiped her mouth with her handkerchief, slid her lunchbox into her bag and wandered off to go cry in the bathroom.

.

A few days later, Len dropped by her desk between classes and did this strange spin-maneuver before asking her if she wanted to go to the beach on the weekend.

Rin glanced outside, then back at him. “The beach? This weekend?” she echoed. “Len, it’s December. It’s going to be so cold.”

He planted his hands on her desk and rocked back and forth. “So? It’s still nice out.”

“What do you even want to do there?” she asked. “It’s not like we can swim or anything.”

“I dunno. I just thought it’d be a nice break from all the stress of exams. We can hang out. Build sandcastles. Collect seashells. Eat ice-cream. Maybe even visit the aquarium.”

“Eat ice-cream?” Rin felt cold just thinking about it. “I hope you’re ready to share your jacket with me, then.”

Len grinned. “So it’s a yes?”

She sighed. “I suppose. What about Gumi?”

“Oh, right. She said she’s visiting her grandparents this weekend.”

“Sucks,” Rin said. 

“What, am I not good enough?” Len joked, faking a pout. 

“I need someone to help me pick on you,” she said with a grin.

He pretended to be hurt, gasping and clutching at his chest. “Rin, you’re such a bully. Always picking on me…” Then he switched back to normal mode, as if remembering he still had to go to his next class. “So, Saturday afternoon?”

Rin nodded.

He gave a thumbs up. “Sweet. Let’s head there after club finishes.”

Then Len hurried off to his next class. 

Gumi stopped Rin in the hall a few hours later, with her class materials tucked under one arm. She wiggled her eyebrows at her, smirking. “Saturday afternoon, hm?”

“How did you know?” Rin asked, although not surprised she knew as much.

“Oh. He asked me first,” was her simple answer. “Maybe you should… you know.”

“‘You know’ what?”

Gumi made some incomprehensible motion with her free hand. “You know, like… make a move.”

Rin rolled her eyes. “After what happened on Tuesday at lunch?”

“What happened on Tuesday at lunch?” Gumi asked, confused, before she remembered the more-than-awkward conversation. “Oh. Oh. Rin… no. That conversation was… hm. Something different.”

“Something different?” Rin repeated. “Like what? Sounds like the guy has a crush.”

Gumi then massaged her forehead, apparently hard-pressed over this topic. “It’s… no. Not that. I’ll talk to you about it later. After school.”

Rin raised a questioning eyebrow. “Alright.”

They said their goodbyes and went separate ways to their next classes. Of course, Gumi never did follow up on their conversation after school.

.

Saturday afternoon came in the blink of an eye, and soon Rin was tagging along after Len as they took the bus to the oceanside. 

Len was blabbering about some anime he was watching on TV last night, with dudes and swords and swords and dudes. She wasn’t entirely listening, just staring at the side of his face and thinking back to Tuesday’s mishap.

That was when she asked, out of the blue, “Len, do you like Miku?”

Len was caught completely off-guard, stopped his monologue about his sword-dude anime and spluttered, “Um, what? What are you talking about, Rin?”

Rin shifted in her seat, cramming her cold hands between her thighs for warmth. The question had been on her mind all week. It was almost killing her. “You know. You were talking about her a lot at lunch the other day. I thought you might like her.”

He turned red, and began to shake his head, laughing somewhat nervously. “Me? Like Miku? She’s, y’know, pretty and all… but uh…”

She leaned forward in her seat, raising an eyebrow. “You like her.”

“No! I don’t know where you’re getting that, Rin.” He seemed to be getting a little desperate, tugging at his ponytail. He looked at her with a somewhat serious expression. “It wasn’t—I don’t— I don’t like her. I mean, she’s pretty and that’s great, but… I like someone else.”

Two emotions hit Rin at once like trains colliding on a track. One was relief that he didn’t like Miku; the other, a swell of dread in her chest as it dawned on her that he did like someone (and it definitely wasn’t her). 

Rin couldn’t help but ask, “Who?”

Len blinked at her, surprised by her lack of shame in asking such a personal question. “Well, that’s a secret. It’s not like you’ve told me who you like, anyway.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s no point in me talking about it to anyone because it’s never going to be reciprocated, anyway,” she muttered. There was a moment of silence between them, before she asked, “Does Gumi know?”

“Um…”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Gumi knows everyone’s secrets. I won’t be offended if you’ve told her already.”

He tugged at his scarf, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Yeah… she knows.”

Rin thought for a moment. Well, if Gumi knew… why would she be encouraging her to ask Len out, knowing she’d be rejected?

Sometimes the logic of that girl made little sense.

“Does she know who you like?” Len asked back.

“Of course she does.”

They fell into silence after that, pondering the many secrets Gumi knew of one other, but never shared. 

Eventually, Len started the conversation up again as they got off at their stop. “So,” he began casually, digging his hands into his jacket pockets. “Have you actually got anything you want for your birthday? I’m considering the last answer you gave was a joke.”

It wasn’t, but anyway. “Nope,” Rin said simply.

“Nothing? Not even like, a video game or some jewellery or something?”

A video game couldn’t be played in the sea, and jewellery would only rust, so. “No, nothing at all,” she said.

Len frowned. “Usually you have something you want.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, glancing at the store windows as they walked down the street. The smell of salt was getting stronger, and the wind was picking up. “Not this time.”

“God, you make it hard,” Len said, half-joking, but half-serious. “How about a party? Are you going to have one?”

“Nah,” Rin answered. “I figured this year should be quiet. And no— no surprise party. I’ve already laid that flat with Gumi, too.”

He pouted at her. “You’re no fun.”

Rin looked at him. “Sorry,” she said, in a tone that definitely was not apologetic.

“How about universities,” Len changed the subject. “Have you decided which ones you want to apply for, yet? The deadline is coming soon. Next month.”

To be honest, Rin hadn’t even cast one thought in that direction. Anything beyond her 18th birthday was lost to her. She was completely and utterly mentally prepared to just turn into a fish. University was out of the question.

“I haven’t,” she answered with a sigh. “What about you, though? You wanted to move to a bigger city, right?”

Len nodded. “Yeah, well, can’t stand being here. I was thinking somewhere in Sendai or Sapporo, or maybe even Tokyo, but it sucks knowing you might not be coming with. Gumi’s got her heart set on Sendai, though.”

Rin screwed up her face. “Tokyo’s too big. Sapporo’s nice, though.”

“Yeah? Thinking of a university there?”

“No.”

“Aw.” He bumped shoulders with her as they walked along, the sparkling blue of the sea coming into view. “There it is,” he said, as if witnessing something truly magnificent.

Rin eyed her mortal enemy, the water, as they made their way down to the sand. There were hardly any people around; just two idiots standing on the beach in the middle of winter.

A cool breeze blew through them, and she shivered. God, she was not looking forward to the freezing cold temperatures of the deep blue.

“Frozen yet?” Len asked with a laugh, noticing her folded arms. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heat pack, placing it into her icy hands. It felt so good to touch. “Good thing I brought a few, eh?”

Rin was a fool not to bring them, but that was her. She never prepared for the weather properly at all. “Thank you,” she mumbled, her cheeks burning.

They began their venture down the coast, picking up shells in the sand and tossing rocks into the water. Soon, they reached an empty jetty. They sat on the very end, their legs dangling over the water; a good five-or-so metre drop into the ocean. 

She gazed down at the foam as the waves crashed against the muscle-covered posts of the jetty, droplets of seawater almost hitting the soles of her shoes. A part of her just wanted to throw herself in, but with Len there, that wouldn’t be a great situation.

Their shoulders and thighs touched. Len was jiggling his leg against hers, not really bothered by their proximity. Their feet knocked together as they swung them back and forth.

They didn't really talked much, just watched the horizon as the clouds rolled by. Rin had to fight the urge to lean her head on his shoulder. Don’t do it. Don’t do it, Rin, she practically yelled at herself, as a wave of sleepiness hit her.

“Hey, Rin,” Len said, his tone a little odd. 

“Mm?” Rin answered, her eyelids betraying her.

“Um, you know, I…”

Whatever he was going to say next was drowned out by Rin’s yelp of surprise as something launched itself with her back. She almost fell forward, but somehow Len caught her before she toppled completely into the water.

When they turned to look, it was some small, fluffy white thing with a pink tongue and big, dark eyes. Not a moment later, someone came running over, panting.

“I’m so sorry,” the person said, and the voice sounded oddly familiar. “I didn’t realise there would be— oh.”

Both Rin and Len looked up at their face. To Rin’s utter horror, standing behind them… was no one other than Miku.

Miku had recognised them too, and now had a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry,” she apologised again.

Len seemed pleasantly surprised. “Oh! Miku. Fancy seeing you here.”

She laughed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, yeah. I usually walk my dog along here. But I wasn’t really expecting to see anyone at this time of year.”

Miku’s dog was licking and slobbering all over Rin’s hand. It was cute, but… the situation was not.

Len then stood. Rin followed suit, not wanting to be the only one sitting. 

Miku gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry about my dog jumping on you. She gets a little excited about strangers. Not a very good guard dog.”

She returned a polite smile. “It’s fine. What’s her name?”

“Tinkerbell.”

Len snickered. “Cute.”

“Anyway,” Miku said, motioning for Tinkerbell to come over and attaching a leash to her collar. “I’m sorry again for disturbing you two.”

“It’s fine,” Len said with a dismissing wave of his hand. “We were just hanging out." Then he paused, a look crossing his face like he just came up with the most brilliant idea. "Actually, Miku… would you like to grab ice-cream with us?”

Rin was ready to launch herself off the side of the jetty and just let the waves carry her off. This wasn’t how she was expecting her afternoon with Len to turn out. God, what the hell, Len? she wanted to cry. 

Was the boy being overly nice or was he like, strategically asking her for ice-cream for… some other reason?

Miku seemed to perk up at Len’s suggestion. “Oh, really? Are you sure? I’d love to!”

“Of course. You’re cool with it, aren’t you, Rin?” Len checked her face with a grin.

Rin didn’t have a choice. She forced a smile and a thumbs up, and announced in her most fake-enthusiastic voice, “Yay, ice-cream!”

So they started their venture back toward the main street in search of some ice-cream. As they walked along the beach, Len and Miku went ahead, deep in conversation about some favourite TV show they had in common.

Rin faded into the background, until reaching a complete stop on the sand. They’d already walked ahead so far, they wouldn’t even notice if she’d left. So she did. She turned and walked the other way, and took the bus home.

She knew it was the wrong thing to do, and when Len called her about half-an-hour later in a panic, thinking she’d been kidnapped or something, she felt even worse than she did before.

“You should’ve said something,” he said. “I was running up and down the beach for about ten minutes calling your name.”

“I’m sorry. It was urgent and I just… didn’t want to interrupt the conversation…” Rin had come up with some pathetic excuse about feeling sick all of a sudden and running off, although that was no better than the truth, probably.

Len sighed, apparently frustrated. “ Rin,” was all he said.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Well, are you home now?” he asked, ignoring the apology.

Her phone had rung just as she was getting off the bus, and now she was walking home. “Almost,” she said.

He was quiet for a moment or two, before he said, “Okay. Well, I hope you feel better soon.” Then he hung up.

Wow. He was definitely pissed.

Rin sniffled and wiped at her eyes, which were starting to leak tears. This sucked. Maybe if she wasn’t a ticking time bomb with this whole ridiculous mermaid curse thing, she’d be okay, the whole situation probably would have never happened, and she wouldn’t be so… pressed and upset about… everything.

She knew Gumi would hear about it, so there was definitely another lecture coming her way. Thinking that just made her cry even more about it though.

When she got home with swollen eyes and a blotchy face, her mum tried to ask about it, but she just told her it was nothing, and crawled into bed and watched sad romance movies all evening.

.

Gumi did eventually call to lecture her, but it wasn’t as bad as she was expecting. When Monday finally rolled around, Rin anticipated the worst, expecting Len to give her the cold shoulder, but miraculously, the boy just acted as normal.

When Rin was alone with Gumi for a few moments, she asked, “What did you tell him?”

Gumi looked at her innocently. “Hmm?”

“Len doesn’t hate me, despite everything. So what did you say to him?”

She glanced around to check for the boy's presence, before explaining, “I just told him what you told me the other day. About your birthday situation. He seemed to calm down after that. You better be thankful I did damage control for you.”

“I am,” Rin said. “Thank you.”

“You know, he's still in a tizz over your birthday present,” Gumi added. “He wants to buy you something and was trying to get an idea out of you on Saturday. Can’t you just like, give him something? ”

Rin grimaced. “The thing is, I really don’t have anything I want.”

“Jeez, Rin.”

“I know, I know…” she said, hanging her head. “Look, if he’s so adamant about getting me something, can you just make a suggestion to him or whatever? Like, I don’t know, pretend I told you what I want. I don’t really care.”

Gumi gave her a look. “You’re really giving me this power?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well, I could literally tell him you want new underwear or something.”

Rin shrugged. “That’s fine.”

Gumi smacked her forehead. “You know, he’d totally try buying you some.”

“Really?” Rin tried to imagine the boy waltzing into a lingerie store, but couldn’t picture it. “I’d think he would turn to ash as soon as he looked at lingerie.”

“You’d be surprised,” was all Gumi said.

Just as the conversation came to a lull, Miku appeared with a worried look on her face.

“Rin!” she said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? When you disappeared on Saturday, Len and I were so worried!”

Rin was taken aback by her intense concern, gawking at her face for a moment or two. “Ah… yeah… I’m sorry. I felt sick so I just went home. I’m sorry for not saying anything.”

“Len mentioned something about that,” Miku said. “The poor guy was close to tears before he tried calling you. Well, I’m glad you’re safe and feeling better, at least?”

“Oh. Yeah. I am. Thank you.”

Miku smiled and gave her shoulder two rough pats, before retracting her hand and turning to face Gumi. “Hey Gumi,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Gumi went stiff. “Uh. Hi Miku,” she responded, in a strange monotone voice.

“How was your weekend?” Miku asked.

“It was… um. Fine. And you?”

“Well, I’m sure you just heard about it when I was talking to Rin, but it was good. It was too bad you couldn’t be there too.”

Gumi swallowed. Her ears were turning bright red.

What on earth was Rin witnessing here?

“Yeah,” Gumi said. “It was too bad.”

Miku then cleared her throat, and looked at both of them. “Well, I’ll see you two around!” She gave a wave, then bustled off to do… whatever she was doing.

Rin looked at Gumi, who was still staring off in the direction Miku went, although she was no longer visible. “So, care to explain what just happened?” she asked.

Gumi jumped, turning back to Rin. “Wh— huh?”

She gestured in Miku’s direction. “You know… like. I’m getting some weird vibes from you right now and I’m not really sure what to think of it.”

Gumi shook her head furiously. “It’s nothing. It was nothing.”

Rin raised an eyebrow. “ Okay.”

It was definitely not just nothing, though.

.

The thought finally came to her in the middle of lunch like a freight train colliding with a wall. Rin gasped, dropped her omelette, and jumped up from her seat.

Both Len and Gumi stopped eating to look at her. “What’s wrong?” Gumi asked.

Rin didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at Len and said, “Len. Can I speak to you in private?”

Len glanced at Gumi with a look of uncertainty, before setting down his chopsticks and standing, following her out of the classroom.

“Um… what’s up, Rin?” he asked, once she’d pulled him around a corner that was void of people to eavesdrop. He looked very nervous for some reason.

Nevertheless, Rin ignored that and blurted, “Does Gumi have a crush on Miku?”

“Oh.” Now he seemed very surprised. “Um.”

Rin didn’t need a verbal answer. The look on his face told her enough: Yes.

“Oh boy,” Rin said. “All this time I was thinking you had a crush on Miku. This is new. Wait. How come you know about this?”

Len blinked. “Er. Well…”

“Did Gumi tell you?”

He nodded.

Rin frowned. “But she didn’t tell me.”

“Uh,” he said. “Well, Rin…”

“She knows almost every secret of mine but she wouldn’t tell me she has a crush… on Miku . Everyone has just been keeping me in the dark!”

Len winced. “Rin.”

“Yes?”

“I basically traded secrets with Gumi.”

“You what?”

Len rubbed his neck. “So, like. She really wanted to know who I liked, but I refused and said to her only if she told me who she likes. So she told me. And she threatened me to not say anything to you. Anyway, you know, I talked to some people… found out Miku has a thing for Gumi, too. I’ve just been trying to kind of… get them together, but… ah. I’m sorry. You must’ve been really confused.”

Suddenly, everything began to fall into place. “Wait, so… so that’s why you were talking about Miku at lunch the other day?”

He nodded.

“And that’s why Gumi made you come with her to get a drink.”

Len looked sheepish. “She was mad.”

“Wow.”

“So… is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”

“What?” Rin asked. “I mean, yeah. That was all.”

Len looked disappointed. “Oh.”

Then she suddenly remembered about what happened on the weekend. “Oh. And—Len.”

The disappointment on his face melted away for a moment. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry, I really am sorry about the weekend,” Rin said. “I didn’t think about anyone else but myself in that situation. I didn’t want to make you worried, though. I’m really sorry.”

Len’s gaze softened. He reached out and placed a hand on her arm. “It’s okay. Gumi told me about your circumstances, so…” he trailed off, thinking. “Besides, I guess you were a little confused by me inviting Miku to eat ice-cream with us so suddenly. You probably didn’t know it was for Gumi’s sake.”

She laughed. “Thank you for worrying about me, Len.”

He smiled at her. “I couldn’t not worry about you, Rin.”

There was a brief pause between them, as they stood awkwardly, staring at each other’s faces. The silence was filled with tension—or maybe she was just imagining it.

Len then spoke again, averting his gaze away from her face. “You know, Rin, I… um…”

Whatever he wanted to say next did not come, because a certain green-haired girl stomped up beside them with her arms crossed.

“There you are!” Gumi exclaimed, standing in the space between them. “What are you two doing? I’ve been waiting 15 minutes for you to come back. What’s going on?”

Then she noticed the look on Len’s face and faltered. “Wait. Did I… did I interrupt something?”

Len cleared his throat. “No. It’s fine. You didn’t interrupt anything.”

Gumi glanced at Rin, who shrugged her shoulders. “Are you sure? Because I—”

He held up a finger. “Nope. It’s cool. But Rin knows you like Miku.”

She went blank for a moment, before her eyes narrowed. “You told her?”

“No. I guessed it,” Rin answered quickly, to save Len from being gutted like a fish. “I dragged him out here to ask about it… and then I apologised about the weekend. That’s all.”

Len nodded. “That’s all.”

Gumi was red. “Both of you are so— difficult.” She threw up her hands in frustration, then turned around and walked off.

“Is she okay?” Rin asked.

“Probably,” Len responded. “Thanks for speaking up for me, though.”

“No worries,” she said. “By the way, what did you want to say before? It seemed pretty serious.”

Len hesitated, his lips pressing into a straight line in thought. Finally, he said, “You know what? I can’t remember. It probably wasn’t important.”

“Oh.”

They then followed after Gumi. But Rin couldn’t help but keep thinking back to what Len was about to say to her.

.

“So, what are you doing on your birthday, Rin?” Gumi asked. It was T-minus five days until Sunday, her birthday, the dreaded day.

Rin picked at her lunch, not feeling very hungry. “Not much. Probably just going to stay home… do nothing…”

“Well, that’s sad,” Len said. “Why don’t we hang out or something?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. My parents don’t want me to,” Rin lied. Of course, her parents could care less about her meeting with friends on her birthday, but she also had the strange curfew of sunset (her deadline for finding a lover before becoming a fish forever).

“Oh,” Gumi and Len said in unison, sounding disappointed.

“How about next weekend?” she suggested, although there wouldn’t be a next weekend. But if it made her friends happy, she’d plan it, even if it wouldn’t end up happening.

“Next weekend is good with me. Gumi?” Len looked to Gumi.

She nodded. “I should be free.”

“Sweet. Let’s go bowling or something,” Len suggested. “I mean, it’s your birthday, Rin, so we can do whatever you want.”

“Bowling sounds nice,” Rin mused aloud. “Karaoke would be fun too.”

“Oh yeah! Let’s go to karaoke as well,” Len agreed. He then glanced over at Gumi with a sly look. “Shall we invite Miku?”

Gumi grimaced, her ears reddening. “I don’t need you two hooligans being my wingmen.”

“Why not? You’re practically always trying to be my wingman,” Rin said.

Gumi jabbed a finger in her direction. “You watch it, Miss Rin. I have the power here.”

Rin backed down, holding her hands up. “Okay, okay. Jeez. Maybe you should just try asking her out.”

“And don’t use my advice on me,” she added sulkily, folding her arms over her chest.

“Wow, she tells you that too?” Len asked, guffawing. 

Rin rolled her eyes. “Like every day.”

He held up his hand. “Same. High-five!”

She gave him a high-five across the table, to which Gumi just rolled her eyes. “You two are just… so… unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably awesome,” Rin corrected. She and Len gave each other another high-five.

Gumi put her head down on her desk and groaned.

The pair chuckled. 

“So… what are your folks going to do with you on the weekend?” Len asked, steering the conversation back to her birthday.

Rin sighed. “Dunno. Dunno anything, really.”

“That stinks,” he said.

“Yep.”

Gumi lifted her head. “I’m still worried you’re like, being married off or something and you’re just not telling us.”

Yeah. Being married off to the sea, Rin thought.

Len found this speculation incredibly upsetting. “Being married off? Are your parents really that cruel to do that?”

“No,” Rin said. “I told you, I’m not getting married off. It’s not related to my relationship status in any way.” It totally was. “Stop spreading rumours about me, Gumi.”

Gumi ignored Rin, patting Len on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, if you get there first thing in the morning, Len, you might be able to wrestle down all her potential fiances and come first place as her suitor.” 

Len swatted her hand away, a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Shut up.”

It was then that Gumi shared a secret wink with Rin. She didn’t know what that meant.

“Well, regardless of your plans on Sunday, still expect us to call you and sing happy birthday in horrible discordant voices, at least,” Gumi said. “It’s tradition, you know.”

That part was at least true. The trio had been doing such a thing since middle school.

Rin smiled. “Of course. I’m looking forward to it.” She was really looking forward to hearing from her friends for the last time. They wouldn’t know that, of course.

“Anyway, I’m still for inviting Miku to your birthday celebrations, if you don’t mind,” Len said with a shit-eating grin.

Gumi waved her chopsticks at him threateningly. “Len, I swear to God, I will harvest your organs and sell them on the black market.”

.

Then the day came. The morning started off rather ordinary, with Gumi and Len calling her at nine to sing happy birthday. Of course, she burst into tears on the phone, panicking the pair.

“What’s wrong?” Gumi asked.

Rin sobbed hideously and wiped her face with the palm of her hand. “I’m sorry. I just felt really happy. That’s all.”

“Really?” Len asked with skepticism in his voice.

“Yeah. Dunno. Just feeling a bit emotional today. Thank you for calling me, guys.”

The two were quiet for a moment. “It’s what we do, Rin,” Gumi then said, her voice gentle. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. My parents are calling me, so I should probably hang up now.” That was a lie, but she couldn’t stand the conversation any longer.

“Okay,” Gumi and Len chorused, although they, too, sounded a little downhearted.

“Have a nice birthday, Rin,” Len said.

“Thank you. Bye.”

She didn’t wait for their replies. She hung up and began to cry again.

Her mother came into her bedroom a few minutes later, a look on her face that meant motherly-business. “Rin,” she said gently. “Are you sure you’re fine with this? You can still meet with your friends. You don’t need to avoid them.”

“It’s fine,” Rin sobbed. “It’s better off this way.”

Her mum sunk down onto the bed beside her, taking the phone from her clammy hands. “I know… I know it’s really hard for you. And I don’t know what to say or do. But… whatever happens, you’re still our daughter. And we love you, fish or not.”

She whimpered into her wet sleeve. “I wish I didn’t have to be a fish.”

“I’m sorry for giving you this curse,” her mother said. She reached out to rub her back. “I’m so sorry.”

Then her mother was crying too.

The day chugged at an impossibly slow pace, as if wanting to draw out the pain and suffering even longer.

Rin sat in her room most of the day, staring at her feet and legs and thinking, This is so fucking stupid. What the hell. She only emerged once or twice to use the bathroom, and to pick at a piece of her birthday cake.

Her parents had given her presents; one was an expensive waterproof phone case, and the other was an underwater camera. They made her cry again; although, they were somewhat thoughtful gifts considering the unfortunate situation.

When it hit four in the afternoon, she picked herself up from her bedroom floor, gathered what she wanted to take with her to the ocean, and set off to the beach. Her parents cried, and she did too, and she walked with her head down in the late afternoon sun.

Once the sun fully set, Rin would become a mermaid, and would never see her human legs again.

She sat on the edge of the jetty she once sat on with Len, and waited with her knees tucked up to her chest, listening to the ocean waves and the cries of the seagulls overhead. It was growing colder and colder as it grew darker and darker.

It was only about five minutes or so of sitting and waiting when Rin heard the sound of running footsteps behind her. She assumed it was some person out jogging, but they grew closer and closer, until she could hear someone panting very heavily.

She glanced behind her, and was surprised to see Len, doubled-over a few metres from her.

“Rin,” he gasped, stumbling over. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Huh,” she said, quickly wiping her wet face.

Len saw her red, swollen eyes as he grew closer and stopped in his tracks. “I went to your house to surprise you, but your parents said you were here. I ran all the way from your house because the bus wasn’t coming for another hour, and your parents said it would be too late to wait any longer. I don’t really understand, but…” 

Rin couldn’t help but begin to cry, yet again. “Oh, Len…”

“You’re not going to like, kill yourself, are you?” he asked, with the most serious expression she’d ever seen on him. “The look on your parents’ faces… it was like you had died.”

She laughed, although it was nothing to laugh about, but the whole situation was just so absurd she had no other way to react to it. “No, Len,” she said. “I’m not going to kill myself.”

“Then why…” he asked, edging closer.

“You want to go for a swim?” she asked him, although she was joking (just a little).

Len looked at her like she was crazy. And she was. “Are you kidding me? We’d both get hypothermia.”

Rin thought about that. “Hmm. You’re right.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

“Only if you tell me who you like,” she jested.

Len was speechless, but it seemed he was taking her seriously.

There were only about fifteen or so minutes left of daylight, so Rin stood and turned to him, now serious. “I have a secret. Not even Gumi knows it. Can you keep it?”

He went wide-eyed and nodded, swallowing.

She reached out for his hand and started pulling him back toward the beach. “We have to go somewhere no one will see me.”

“Er… why?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”

They jogged up the beach toward the rocks, and Rin began climbing over them to a more secluded part of the beach. Len seemed rather confused by it all. Finally, she reached a shallow pool of water that would demonstrate enough.

“You have to promise you won’t scream or do anything weird,” she told him.

Len just blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. He nodded wordlessly, but she could tell there were questions just dying to come out.

Rin held a finger to her lips, then slipped off her coat, throwing it over some dry rocks. She’d already prepared for her assimilation into the sea, and had a bathing suit on underneath her coat. She began to descend down into the pool, the water lapping at her ankles, then her calves, then her thighs… 

He seemed to panic at just this alone. “Rin, what are you doing? Are you crazy?”

The water was ice cold, so cold it was painful. She winced and closed her eyes, ignoring Len’s cries. Soon, that familiar, warm sensation spread through her lower body, over her arms and ears and back.

Len went dead silent, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

His eyes were the size of saucers and his mouth was hanging open. “You… huh.”

“This is why I could never participate in the swimming carnival,” Rin said.

Len sank down to his knees, clutching at his hair in shock. She waited for him to get the words out, this time. “You… you’re a mermaid?”

She stretched out her webbed fingers, and said very lifelessly, “Surprise!”

“I’m… excuse me. You’ve been a mermaid this whole time?”

Rin shrugged. “Ever since I was born. It’s a family curse. Whenever I touch water, I grow a tail, and it sucks.”

“A… curse?” Len echoed. “How is it a curse?”

“Well, that’s the whole reason why my 18th birthday is the worst thing ever,” she said. “Why I’ve been so sad. Why my parents were probably crying when you knocked on their door. I’m going to become a mermaid forever, Len, as soon as the sun sets on my 18th birthday. Today.”

He seemed very distraught over this fact. More than she was expecting, really. “What? Why? Isn’t there something to break the curse, like—like in fairy tales or something?”

Rin sighed. There were only like, two minutes left of sunlight, as far as she knew. “Yeah, but it’s too late now to break it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, like in fairy tales, to break the curse I need a true—”

“A true love’s first kiss,” Len finished, with a look of realisation. “You were being serious. God! I’m such an idiot!”

Rin opened her mouth to ask, “Why?” but much to her surprise, he tore off half his clothes in about five seconds flat and jumped into the freezing cold water, splashing her in the face, before launching himself towards her.

It was definitely a horrifying moment, until Len slapped his hands on either side of her head and leaned in for the kiss.

Of course, there were a million thoughts swirling through Rin’s mind as he kissed her, one of them being, Dang, this was definitely not as romantic as I’d imagined. But then again, Len was kissing her, like actually kissing her on the lips, and that was something she’d been pining for for the last 11 years, although it could’ve come just a little sooner.

Just as she was getting over the initial shock of it all, he pulled away. “Did it work?” he asked, trying to look down for her tail.

Her scales glittered through the surface of the water, and his face fell in disappointment, his hands dropping to her shoulders.

“Was I too late?” he then mused aloud, but what Rin wanted to know was how did he know she liked him back? 

Wait.

Gumi…

Rin felt a strange tingle down below, the same sort of tingle she felt when she was turning back to a human. 

Immediately she panicked, because she was about to become half-naked in front of Len.

“Er, Len, um, Len,” she said.

He looked at her, confused.

“I need you to like, not look at the lower half of my body for the next five minutes or so, because you’re going to see something you maybe want to see, but I don’t want you to see until we at least get to like, third base or something.”

“What,” he said.

But Rin needed not to give him a more specific explanation, because at that moment, the fabric of her torn-up bikini bottoms floated past.

“Oh.” Len immediately distanced himself, crawling back onto the rocks and shivering. He covered his eyes. “Just tell me when.”

On cue, her tail disappeared for the last time, her scales shedding and filling the pool, looking like glitter in the twilight. She ran her now-normal hands over the surface of the skin on her thighs, an immense sensation of relief filling her chest like fireworks.

Rin clambered up onto the rocks, and the cold winter wind hit her bare skin. She slipped and shivered as she reached for her coat, pulling it on hurriedly in a desperate attempt to get herself warm. It did very little to help, though.

“Okay, okay. I’m decent,” she said to Len, who seemed more relieved he could now reach for his dry clothes. His teeth were chattering, and for a moment, she felt a pang of guilt for having dragged him into this mess.

She decided to call her parents to rescue them from the cold. Her mum was more than relieved to hear her asking for pickup, no questions asked. She probably already had a feeling things would take a turn for the best after Len came by.

They climbed over the rocks, back toward the main beach, in shivering silence. 

“I’m sorry,” Rin said to Len, as they stopped for a moment on the sand. “Now you’re freezing because of me.”

“I’ll gladly lose a limb or two to frostbite to save you,” he said through gritted teeth, and she wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not.

Rin slicked her wet hair back. “Okay, well. Let’s run a few laps to ensure we have blood flowing to all our limbs. You can demonstrate to me your best time.”

Len groaned at the idea, but got into position. He reached out for her hand in the dark, and she grabbed it, feeling his ice-cold fingers against her own. “Gumi told me to tell you,” he said in between shudders, “that we’re both insufferable.”

“Well, she better eat her words, because it’s her turn to confess next weekend,” Rin said breathily, before she launched herself forward, dragging Len along with her.

They ran, hands together and soaking wet in the middle of winter, until warm blankets and hot chocolate came to the rescue.

Thankfully, no one lost any limbs or became a fish forever that night (or ever).

.

fin

[goldenretriever-nicknelson]

Hi doll! I think your blurb night is such a fabulous idea!! Could I pretty please request “I need you to be my girlfriend for about five minutes" with Peter ☺️

Hiiii lovely! ofc! This is super cute and slightly longer than I meant (oops) 

note: sorry these are taking me so long but get prepared for two weeks of fluffy blurbs. 

thanks to @devin-marie for her sass expertise.

Wc: 1.3k

warnings: flash is a bit more an idiot than usual

Peter sighed as the avenger’s compound came into view. Usually it would make him nothing but happy to see the giant A staring back at him but not when he was with his classmates. Out of all the places in New York to go on a school trip why did it have to be the one place where everyone knew he was Spider-man.

He tried to have an optimist outlook so he took a deep breath and refocused his mind set. He’d made it off of the bus, speaking casually to Ned before Flash started his torment. “I can’t wait to see this Parker.” A fresh mindset was going to be difficult.

It didn’t stop there either. At every turn Flash was waiting to see how much he could test Peter’s “Stark Internship” story. Ned and MJ tried to back him of course but Peter was growing tired. Luckily the compound was emptier then usual apart from staff who didn’t know who Peter was without the mask on which actually didn’t help his case. 

“No one even knows who you are.” Flash laughed from next to him, knocking his arm just as they rounded a corner on their tour and several people gasped.

“Hey kids.” Loud whispers of “Oh my god it’s iron man!” and “Tony Stark!” surrounded him. Peter bit back a laugh as he caught the look on Flash’s face, nothing but pure shock. Tony waved before nodding to Peter who looked up at him with a smile. “Hey Peter.” Flash scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes causing Tony’s attention to turn to him and then back to Peter. “This him?”

Peter nodded. He’d told Mr Stark that some people didn’t believe him about the internship and had somehow ended up discussing his long standing rivalry with Flash. Tony quirked an eyebrow and looked at Flash, whose eyes looked they were about to pop out of his head.

“I don’t usually speak to anyone with less than 5 brain cells but I’ll make an exception just this once to explain to you that Parker has one of the brightest minds I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with.” He sent a wink back to Peter before saying goodbye to the rest of the class. “Business calls.”

Flash shut up for the rest of the trip, that was until a certain younger avenger was spotted entering the compound just as they were about to leave. Ned nudged Peter and sent him a warning. Him and Y/n had been seen out after a mission the other day and so Ned had quickly fabricated the story that she was Peter’s girlfriend. Something he didn’t think would be a problem since it was unlikely that Peter’s class was going to meet the new famous avenger. How wrong he was.

Peter nodded and rushed over to Y/n whilst Mr Harrington got some superhero questions off his chest to an unamused Happy who had been instructed to escort the class out after their tour.

“Hey Y/n.” The girl looked up with a smile as Peter came up to her. Not for the first time he wished that the story about them was true.

“Hey Peter. I didn’t know you were coming in today.” Y/n held a clipboard tight to her chest, her eyes gleaming and Peter swore they lit up the room.

“Oh I’m not, school trip.” He looked behind him the crowd of high school students as if to verify his point. Y/n nodded at him and then rose her eyebrows expectantly. Peter paused for a moment as noticed the colour of her eyes, he didn’t know that they were (y/e/c).

“Shouldn’t you be over there then?” Y/n’s eyes looked back to the group where a bunch of students had begun to playfight, their teacher making little effort to break it up. Peter nodded before shaking his head, he too looked at the scene and saw Flash look over, teasing remarks at the ready. Peter’s blood boiled.

“Um, look, this is gonna sound strange but I need you to be my girlfriend for about 5 minutes.” Peter’s voice came out as a rush of panic, almost making Y/n laugh before she realised what he was asking. Her eyes went wide and she looked at him as if he’d gone crazy.

“What?!”

“Please, it’s a long story but they think you’re my girlfriend and if I’m not going to be able to live it down if they think I’m lying.” Peter’s eyes pleaded with the girl in front of him. For once he was able to ignore the usual dry throat and fast heart beat that accompanied being around Y/n and focus on his need to prove Flash wrong.

“Peter-I-.” Y/n stammered, her cheeks flushing red as her mind processed what was going on. A dozen questions ran around her brain until she settled on the only one that she could put into words. “why do they think I’m your girlfriend?” She asked, brow furrowed. Peter sighed, he should have known the ‘it’s a long story’ thing wouldn’t work with Y/n.

“I can’t explain right now.” Peter shook his head before looking back into Y/n’s eyes and sighing once more. His heart felt heavy, what was he doing? “Actually I’m really sorry for asking, it was inappropriate and god I’m just sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow for training.” Peter turned on his heel with one last apologetic smile before walking back to the group where Happy was finally hurrying the group along, pushed past his politeness which was thin enough as it was.

“I knew you could never get a girl like her Parker.” Flash nudged him with a laugh but Peter was already fishing his earphones from his pocket, untangling the wire. He was unaware of Y/n’s eyes watching him.

“Babe!”

Peter didn’t look up at the pet name because there was no way it was being directed at him. He continued walking until a hand tapped him on his shoulder. He turned thinking maybe he’d dropped something. He saw Y/n looking at him with a soft smile and Peter wondered why she was calling him babe.

“You almost left without this.” Her hands were on his shoulders as she pulled him in, her soft lips meeting his. Peter’s brain short-circuited, eyes wider than he thought they could be. He knew he should have kissed back but by the time his brain had caught up she pulled away. Y/n winked at him with a smile and a bit to her lip that caused Peter to look down at them, wondering if he could get another taste. His eyes looked back up to meet Y/n’s dazed eyes seeing the uncertainty and something else that he couldn’t quite read behind them.

Peter didn’t even feel the eyes on the both of them from his classmates let alone Flash again. But this time his voice was quiet and all he muttered was “holy shit.”

“Is there a problem?” Y/n looked over Peter’s shoulder towards Flash who stood, like most of his other classmates, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

“No, it’s just he-.”

Peter never thought he had seen Flash at a lose for words before. He supressed a laugh that faltered as Y/n took his hand into her own. “-Is my boyfriend? Yes he is.” She finished Flash’s rambling with ease, smirking back at Peter. God she was playing this role well.

She leaned in and kissed his lips again and Peter was quick to kiss her back this time. Y/n gasped in surprise at his enthusiasm but it just made her kiss him more. It seemed like an ever-lasting eternity before they both parted, suddenly aware that it wasn’t just them in the room. Y/n breathed heavily before smiling widely. “I’ll see you tomorrow babe.”

Her hand left his and Peter felt empty, wanting more of her touch. He watched as she walked away, looking back over her shoulder just as he looked over his.

Flash didn’t say another word for the rest of the journey back to Queens. 

[lowkeyhockey]

accidents (how we went from friends to this) - part ii

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Female Reader

Warnings: No sexual content, but Sid is 19 and reader is 16 (which is the age of consent in Canada)

Author’s Notes: Part II of Accidents, which is in turn part of the Can I Go (Where You Go) verse, but can be read as a standalone. I bumped this up in my queue because my gift exchange fic is killing me, and because someone asked me to :D i am # weak.

  Summary: Y/N gets Sid to attend prom with her, even if she insists on calling it a grad formal. The more things change, the more they stay the same. 

----------------------------------

"Missing your grad formal's one thing, Squid," you tell him, and your cheeks are hurting from grinning so wide and you're probably looking like an idiot, but that just means that it's alright that your words match.  He's grinning back at you, teeth still too big for his face and his hair getting a little too long, but he's grinning and this is great. 

 "You're not allowed to miss mine." 

 Which doesn't make sense, you know it doesn't, but it's allowed. You've been good all year - you've been good your whole life, really - and what most of your classmates see as a boring pre-after party event you see as a chance to have fun. And Sid's actually – down for your dumb high school shenanigans. 

 He doesn't even mind your fiddling with his bow tie, a deep midnight blue that matches your dress, even though there had been nothing wrong with it and you both knew it. 

 It's like, tradition. Or at the very least a cliche.  If this was a movie, your mom would be tearing up and shouting at your dad to get the camera, and your dad would be ignoring her and trying to fix a steely eyed stare on Sid until he like. Promises to bring you back before curfew or whatever. 

 It would have been nice, is the thing. But you have this instead, and honestly – it's perfect. 

 "You could have taken me if Sid didn't wanna go," Taylor calls down from the stairs, as though hearing your thoughts, somehow managing to push out the words through the biggest pout you've ever seen on her. You step away from Sid to reach up for one dangling sneaker - curling your fingers around Tay's ankle and giving it a light squeeze. You take it as a good sign that she doesn't kick your hand away. 

"I wouldn't have asked Sid if you could have been my date instead," you promise her, trying to look appropriately serious, but it's hard to push that through your grin. 

 Which – okay, you're lying. If the dance wasn't 16+ only you would have asked both of them to be there. You would probably have made a girls' night of it with Taylor, with Sid playing the part of the exhausted chaperon he was clearly destined for. 

Sidney Crosby:  the second coming of Hockey Jesus, and world-weary chaperon to his sister and her best friend. It’s good for a man to have two destinies. You're pretty sure that at least 0.5 of your destiny was to keep the great Sidney Crosby grounded. 

Judging by the look on her face, Taylor's not, like, intensely convinced, and you look to Sid for some emotional support only to find him mirroring her expression. Only he looks even less impressed somehow, which is impressive enough for you to pat his cheek with your free hand. 

 (Your parents aren't there to take a picture of you but Trina is, and that's the first picture of the night: she was coming down the stair behind Taylor, and catches a shot of you holding on to both Tay and Sid. God, but you'd been a Grade A Clinger.)

 --------------------

 "Really thought you've moved me up from second-string, for a moment there," Sid tells you as he opens the car door for you, and you'd been standing closer to him for pictures just five minutes ago but he still gets to you, this way. 

 His smile is kind, the last time you saw him so dressed up in person was at the draft last year, and there's something about his hair that makes you want to run your fingers through it. It's because of one or two of that, or because of a combination of all three, but you lean in to kiss his cheek before you slide into the car. 

 (He's cleaned up nice - you kind of miss the scruff - but his aftershave more than makes up for it. )

 It's his mom's car, he's not so big a hotshot that he keeps a car just for summers in Nova Scotia. You love the familiarity of it. You wish Sid would buy one of his own here anyway, even if it's just a secondhand clunker, just so you know he'd keep coming back. 

 You tell him as much, grinning as you promise him that you'd be more than happy to babysit it for him while he's off setting new records in Pittsburgh, and he snorts at you but keeps his eyes on the road like the responsible driver that he is. You only wish you could be as focused, and not on his profile. 

 The curve of his smile, even from just his profile, is such a familiar thing to you. It warms your chest, makes your heart work double-time (presumably to work the heat off), makes you reach over to rest your hand against his thigh. 

 It's all muscle, under your light touch. Sid's been spending his summer pretty much alternating between working out and eating enough to feed about three lesser athletes, and the knowledge of it warms your cheeks. And then Sid reaches down to cover your hand with his - which is not at all responsible driver-y of him - and you're suddenly warm all over. 

 "Can you grab the cooler in the back? There's water in there," he says, interrupting your thoughts on - what? how solid he felt under your hand? But you're impressed all over again. 

 When you reach around to dig through the cooler, though, you find that he wasn't kidding about the water - there's nothing but bottles of water and chunks of ice in there, just when you thought Sid's decided to pregame with beer or - wine, or vodka, or whatever. 

 He's the pro-athlete, not you. You don't know what people drink to get turnt at parties. 

 "You're such a dork," you tell him, too-fond about it as you fish a bottle out and open it to take a sip - careful to brush away lipstick marks after - before offering it to him. He shakes his head and you close the bottle again, putting it in the cup holder between you. 

 "Don't want you hungover tomorrow," he says, and it's your turn to shake your head. 

 "Can't get hungover if you don't get me something to drink," you point out, teasing, and he laughs. "Useless," you add, the word too fond to be mean, even though you'd tried your hardest. 

 When you lean back into your seat, hands clasped neatly in your lap like you're afraid of wrinkling up your dress somehow, it's his turn to reach over between you, his hand resting warm against your thigh. 

 "That's not my job, Y/N. Besides, the water came in pretty handy already." There's a steadiness in his gaze - unexpected, unfamiliar - when he glances over at you, holds your gaze for just a moment. "You looked a little overheated there." 

 You're blushing properly then - you can feel it, you're hoping it's not too visible in the early evening light - and he looks - like he's thinking about it, or you, or the way you're acting like an idiot even though he's just there as a friend.  

 "Eyes on the road, Sidney," you manage after a moment - too long a moment, maybe - and he's shaking his head at you again, still with that non-expression expression on his face that you don't quite know how to read. 

 When did he even get that look? God knows Sidney's never been complicated.  

 He loves hockey, loves his family, loves you - at least a little, but he has to, with how many hours he's spent listening to you bitch about college applications and problems with your basketball team or friend groups or lab partners. He works hard, and takes care of the things and the people he loves. He - when the fuck did he get hot?

 You're still confused when you look away, look out the windshield for the first time since you got into the car, realize then - with a sharp jolt of embarrassment - that he'd only been looking at you because of a red light. It was only fair, considering how you'd been staring at him the whole way there. 

--------------------

Despite the hand he has around yours, you're separated as soon as you enter the hotel ballroom your school's rented out for the dance. You give his hand a quick double-squeeze - your standard signal asking if he wants you to set up an escape plan - but he responds by letting yours go, turning with an easy grin to greet some of the guys who've run up to crowd around you. 

 There's guys from the school baseball team, some guys you know used to play street hockey with him, childhood friends dressed up like James Bonds and Bond Girls. Sid transferred to Shattuck's in like, grade 9, but everyone still knows and loves him. Everyone's still proud to know him, and you know Sid's still a little confused and a lot thankful for all the support, and you're more than happy to share him. 

 It's an excuse, anyway, to run and catch up with your girls, barely giving enough time for everyone to gush compliments over everyone else's dresses and hair and makeup (never mind that you had all gone shopping together, and that most of the girls had gotten dressed up at Annika's place) before catching everyone's attention by blurting out, lingering embarrassment still too strong to be subtle about it, "is it me or did Sid get hot?" 

 You're met with a couple of blank looks, a couple of raised eyebrows, look slowly around the circle your bodies make for a face that has an answer when strong hands spin you around - it's Sara, in a black feathery dress and thick eyeliner that makes her eyes look huge despite the narrow-eyed look she's giving you, hands like clamps on your shoulders. 

 Or maybe you're - being oversensitive. You feel about ready to vibrate out of your skin, antsy and uncomfortable, and unhappy about it. It doesn't overwrite or replace the giddy happiness you'd felt getting dolled up at the Crosbys' house, exactly - it just rests on top like a blanket, or like a layer of powder, changing the look of it. 

 What is it with things changing?

 God help you - are you finally panicking about graduating, about moving away from your friends and your halfway-empty childhood home, about starting anew like you've been wanting to for years?

 Sara's hands tighten on you in a steady double-squeeze, and just like that, you feel your anxiety fade away. She's been your captain for both basketball and softball for like, three straight seasons. She knows better than almost anyone how to get you to cut your shit out. 

 When the slow grin spreads across her face, though, it's your turn to narrow your eyes at her – you know how to get Sara to cut her shit out, but she's a lot more trouble than you are, and you had plans on actually enjoying your grad formal. 

 All she says, though is a sly "aren't you glad you didn't figure that out until after you asked him out?" 

 and you're set to - scold, or protest, or agree when you feel a hand press against your back, large and warm and solid. 

 You know who it is without turning around - you recognize his aftershave, you realize with something like slow-growing horror - but you're saved from having to ask him how much he'd overheard by the girls jumping in - and God, everything in the world could be changing but you'd still have your girls, and thank fuck for that. 

 Annaya's dating someone in his draft year, though the guy spent the season in the AHL, and she starts off the shit-talking by teasing him about his penalty minutes. It's not mean, is the thing - the girls know to stay away from asking him about the shitty end to his season - but you still worry, just a little. 

 You lean, just a little, against his side, just to feel if he was tensing up or feeling uncomfortable, and he slides his arm around your waist in easy acceptance. 

 --------------------

 You tell him about it after, because of course you do, because he's one of your best friends in the entire world and there's no one you'd rather have gone to the formal with, because his hands on your waist as you sway together on the dance floor could be made a deadly weapon, because his warm breath against the side of your head makes you feel antsy all over - but in a nice way. 

 And you don't want anything to spoil this night for either of you. 

 When you give in to it - you've never been a coward, of course you were going to give in - it's with an exhale that's almost a sigh, and Sid makes a questioning sound in the half-second before you shift to rest your head against his shoulder, relaxing even more completely in his arms. 

 It feels like completion, like belonging. 

 (And you don't really feel brave enough to look him in the eye ask you're asking him this, but ––) 

 "You know you got hot, right?" you ask into the side of his neck, voice soft. He starts a little, but when he starts to pull away you give him a light pinch through his tux jacket. You smile against his neck as you do it, both hear his surprised laughter and feel it all around you, and melt deeper into him. 

 "You totally do, you asshole," you say, and you're laughing along with him. It feels better this way, with that out in the open. "Give a girl a head's up next time, eh? You almost gave me a heart attack, when you opened the car door for me." 

 "When we left my place or when we got here?" he wants to know, and you let out a small huff of amused disapproval. 

 "You know I was like, drooling, by the time we got in the car." Lucky thing he'd brought all that water, come to think of it, because you'd been thirsty. You can feel him blushing, heat coming off him in waves, practically, but that's alright - he'd gone and packed a ridiculous amount of water. He can re-hydrate later, it's fine.

 It's not vey eco-friendly, but still very much appreciated. 

 "You look gorgeous too, you know," he says, and he sounds - careful, for a reason you can't quite wrap your head around. Not that you want to look into it too deeply. You prefer making another disapproving sound, briefly lifting your hand from his shoulder to physically brush his words away. 

 "I'm not fishing for compliments, Sid." 

 You pull back to look him in the eye, to flash him a quick grin, ignoring the disapproving sound he lets out himself. "Besides, I spent two hours getting ready. Ten, if you count dress-shopping and the spa day and everything. I know I look hot." 

 "So it's just that I'm not allowed to look nice," he teases, voice low - and when did his voice get low?

 "Hot," you correct, because of course you have to. It's - honesty, or just the principle of the thing. His smile grows at that, and you have to feel that with your free hand, have to let your palm curve against his cheek and your thumb brush against the corner of his lips. 

 "I asked you for a friend-date, you know. Not a date-date." You can feel his expression shift at that, under your fingertips, and you wrinkle your nose back at him. "That's how I asked, I mean. But I don't really feel like being just friends, not right now." 

 He studies you for a second, his hazel eyes warm and serious at once, looking like he's trying to understand you. Looking like he's wanting but uncertain, like he's the innocent high school student being propositioned by an older man. And - you're not speaking Greek, Squid, Jesus. 

 "I like you, you know I love you, but -" and you wave those words away, too, before something else breaks. 

 "But you're not looking for anything serious? Dummy," you tease, because come on - you wrote the script for him yourself, years ago, for each time Sid tried to do normal teen things like go out for dinners or to the movies or to the rare school formal with a pretty girl and would end up with having too-high expectations from said girls placed on his shoulders. 

 "I'm not either. You're a hotshot NHL player, you're going to kill it in Pittsburgh, and I'm already so, so proud of you." His brows are furrowed, just a little, and you pat his cheek - twice, light, just enough to get him to focus. 

 "Don't go fishing for compliments, Sid." You pause, considering it, then add, "your hockey's always been hot – I guess it was just a surprise to think you're hot like this." 

 "I've always thought you're beautiful," he says, because he wouldn't be Sid - your Sid - if he wasn't constantly trying to one-up you, but you preen - exaggerating it just a tiny bit - under his words.  

 "I know, it's a terrible burden." But let's get to complimenting your brains. "Anyway, I'm going to uni soon, and I'm not going to be doing it in the States." For one, you're pretty sure Taylor would kill you for even considering it.  For another – you don't want to. 

 You've been aiming for most of your life to earn one of U of Toronto's iron rings, and everyone - Taylor and Sid especially - knew it. Dating a NHL player - even if he's, like, the future of the league - has no part in your five year plan. 

 The thought of your future makes you tense up, just a little, the familiar anxiety gnawing away at your edges, but that just makes this feel even more right by comparison. 

 "I love you as a friend, but this doesn't really feel like just a friend-date anymore." Because Sid might be the one halfway to hotshot-dom but you're still the one who's going to have to keep this on track, probably. You fix your gaze on his - gaze steady, gaze wanting, something like shyness to it but the shyness is overwhelmed by everything else. 

 "So when we get out of here, do you want to do some date-date stuff?" 

 He grins then, a little shy and a little amused, and wanting, and you grin back, feeling brave about it. 

[waltrp]

YOUR TALENT MAKES YOU WHO YOU ARE. YOU SHOULD BE PROUD OF IT

BIDDI BOPPI BOOP A SPECIAL MESSAGE ADMIN ZULEMA: this is truly the season of returning members and we’re thriving lads ! Jill, I am so happy to welcome you back to walt. your app for Tiffani was brilliant. you have so much passion and love for this character. I know she’s in good hands and that you’ll bring so much to her. I’m excited about what you’ll bring to the dash with this feisty pixie ! Please refer to THIS PAGE for your next tasks. We can’t wait to roleplay with you. Welcome to our Ohana xx.

It’s a pleasure to meet you…

Jill, 30, eastern, she/her :)

My favorite fruit is raspberries

I love swords

I know more than I ever wanted to about Shakespeare’s history plays

No triggers!

Are you positive you can be active?

Yes, I’d been planning a return to rp to give me something to do during my day job once I was done with this season’s rep shows… and then covid happened…

How did you stumble upon Walt?

Walt was the first post that came up when I typed “Disney rp” in the tumblr search so I took it as a sign

Did you read the rules?

Yup!

Are you sure?

rfp

Character you want?

Tiffani Belle

Please describe the character for us

Baseball caps and glitter. Those were the words to describe Tiffani Belle as she was growing up. Born to a well-off family, Tiffani was the only girl her age growing up in her neighborhood. The boys all gave her the nickname Tink, because she was the tiniest of their playdate crew. The tiny blonde swelled with pride, and quickly had every single one of them wrapped around her little finger. She could get down and dirty with the rest of them, but she knew that being a girl made her special. She spent her childhood days fixing her friends’ bicycles, collecting grass stains on her clothes, and convincing all the boys that because they were friends, she should be their first kiss. (Somewhere in her childhood bedroom, she still has the contract they drafted on that day in first grade when the boys lined up to peck their lips against Tiffani’s.)

Tiffani took to the role of leader quickly. It wasn’t necessarily a control thing, but Tiffani liked to be in charge, and she really liked for things to go her way. She was headstrong from childhood onward, more than willing to use her leadership skills and stubbornness to fight for what she believed in – whether that be later bedtimes with mom and dad, or returning tater tots to the elementary school lunch menu. They were a kid favorite, potatoes were good for you and ketchup was technically a vegetable, and they deserved to be eaten!

Getting to high school wasn’t much different for Tink. Now she was a little fish in a big pond, but being small had never held Tink back before. Tiffani made sure to make her name known early on in her high school year. As the weather was getting warmer, Tink stood on top of the cafeteria table, white tennis shoes squeaking against the plastic table top, mini skirt almost dangerously short from that angle, and demanded students be allowed to eat their lunches outside. They had gorgeous weather half the school year, it was their right to be able to enjoy the outdoors, and their medical need to soak up the Vitamin D. Administration caved, and Tink was class president for two years after that.

But the older she got, the lonelier Tink became at the top. The girls all wanted to be her, and the boys all wanted to date her. Well, the ones that mattered anyway. But as the years went by, the more Tink became a leader and the boss, and the less she had any actual friends.

Fairy wings and pixie dust. That was when everything started to change. Puberty for Tiffani had started on the early side. She took it in stride, loving to be first in everything. She was the first in her grade with boobs (small as they may have been at the time) and she flaunted her period to her classmates because they were still girls but now she was a woman. What Tink wasn’t prepared for was the pain that started in her shoulders one evening. She’d spent the day with some of the boys switching between doing pushups and sitting on top of them while they did pushups. Tink loved to show them up whenever she can, reminding them that just because she was small and a girl didn’t mean that she couldn’t do just as many reps as they could. So she’d thought nothing of the pain, writing it off as having pushed her body a bit too far that day. But the pain didn’t dissipate, and it was a few days later that she saw them: iridescent wings starting to poke from her shoulder blades. The oddities multiplied from there. Tink didn’t know anything about what was happening (she knew how to use the internet, she’d figure some things out), but she knew that she couldn’t tell anyone. Not if she was going to stay on top. So the top became even lonelier.

Meeting Pippin Pan changed everything. He transferred to her school, and Tink saw something in him. Saw that he was a leader and an adventurer like herself, and to top it off, Pippin wasn’t immediately intimidated by her. In fact, she was sure that he saw an equal in Tink just as she saw him as an equal to her. The two became attached at the hip, a couple of teenagers at the top, and Tiffani would do anything for Pippin. Anything. He was the first person she told about her abilities, and he was the first person Tiffani had any real romantic feelings for. He made her heart race, and she was ready to see what was on the opposite end of their friendship.

Turns out the only thing there was disappointment. When the Darlings came to town, Pippin became fascinated with them. So naturally Tink hated them. She hated Wendy, she hated Jane, she hated that Pippin wanted anything to do with them at all, and she hated that she still needed Pippin as her best friend and her right hand. She hated that she’d shared her secrets and her heart with him, and he dared to care about anyone other than her. Green had always been a good color for Tiffani, it really brought out her eyes, but jealousy consumed the girl and their relationship never truly recovered.

Soon after she met Hook, and Tink was no longer concerned with friendship or Pippin or being a leader. What had leadership gotten her? After all these years? No, true leadership would come later. Tiffani Belle would take the world by storm one day, but Hook new about revenge. Hook stirred a darkness within her, growing out of that jealousy, his silver tongue and clever words working their way into Tink’s heart and mind. He could help her get Pippin back, and everything would go back to normal. But the blonde might’ve been in too deep. She connected with Hook in a way she’d never connected with anyone before, told him all of her secrets, gave him all of herself; he listened, was a comforting presence, and give Tink the push she needed to make sure stupid Wendy Darling was out of the way and Pippin would be hers again.

But the prank went too far, the Darlings wound up in the hospital, and something about that night opened Tiffani’s eyes. She was alone again, but that old spark – the one that was there before boys and feelings became involved – was ignited once more. Of course, everything had changed. She could never go back to the girl she was, not if she stayed. She told her parents everything, her entire side of the story, and even she couldn’t bring herself to argue when the decided to ship her off to Walt.

Second character choice

n/a (but I may also have plans for Honey Lemon and the return of one Rita Holden)

It’s time to see that sample para.

cw: pixie dust related flying/broken bones accident

Perfect. Everything was perfect. And then those stupid Darling children came along and ruined it.

What did Wendy Darling have that Tiffani didn’t? Tink had power, popularity, imperfection. Tink had magic: she could fly, she could shrink, her pixie dust could make Pippin fly too. But perfect little birdy Wendy Darling came along and none of that mattered anymore. She didn’t matter anymore.

Well fuck them. Tink had found a new companion and new friendship in James Hook. With him she didn’t need to be a leader anymore. She could follow and learn and love him instead. Not real love, of course. Real love was bullshit that got her nothing and nowhere. When she was eventually back on top again, with the Darlings out of the way, love would be an emotion she would let nowhere near her tiny body. The wasn’t room anymore for love. Just like there wasn’t room for the Darlings.

It had been Hook’s idea, but Tiffani had latched on to his scheme, and now the time had come. He’d been able to get close to the Darlings in a way that Tink had been loath to do. She admired him for that, for his ability to hide that side of him in order to move forward with revenge. I would be harmless enough, just a simple scare to put the darling Wendy bird in her place. She wasn’t god’s gift to mankind, yet somehow she’d made Pippin think she was.

Digging through her closet, Tinkerbell pulled out the bit of pixie dust she’d been saving. She’d only ever used this on two other people before: Pippin and then Hook; but now she’d secretly use it on the Darlings, too.

She met up with Hook on the edge of town. The Darlings would be meeting him soon, then Tink would take care of the magic, and he would take care of the rest. Before she shrunk to fairy size, Hook’s hands pulled the tiny blonde in to him for a kiss, rough and raw and fiery and full of passion, striking the heat in Tink’s body that rose every time he did that. Who needed love and romance when there were people like hook who were so sexy and free of attachment?

Hidden from view, when the Darlings arrived and Hook started sewing his side of the plan, Tiffani silently sprinkled her pixie dust on their shoulders.

—What? —No—Hook wasn’t supposed to tell them how it worked. They were supposed to be shocked when they suddenly found themselves flying. A shock that would turn their lives around the way Tink’s wings had turned around hers.

Rage flared in Tink’s tiny fairy body, and she flittered toward Hook at a moment when the Darlings had turned away, but he flicked her away with a wave of his hand, and Tiffani darted to the ground as she tried to regain control of her wings. Too late she did, and she skid along the ground, crossing her arms in anger and disbelief. But she couldn’t revel in those feelings for too long, because then Hook was leading them away, and Tiffani would be damned if she let herself get left behind, now that Hook had screwed everything up. He was just like Pippin, dumping her for Wendy, and using her magic to garner Wendy’s praises.

She doesn’t like to think too often about the in between; about the events that lead to what happened next. But suddenly the Darlings were flying. Except they weren’t flying, they were falling. Falling from too many stories high. That wasn’t right, Tink’s pixie dust was fail proof. Perhaps it had worn off? She may have hated Wendy Darling, but she wasn’t in the murder business. Another sprinkling would do the trick. Reaching into her pocket, Tiffani withdrew her bag of pixie dust.

Pixie dust that wasn’t pixie dust.

Too late she realized that Hook had switched the bag, pulled her in for a kiss, wrapped his arms around her waist, and replaced her precious pixie dust (which was very much a part of her) with something else. And she could only stare in horror as the first bone cracked.

Anything else, love?

~

Yup!