#we did this grade wide project where the everyone would take the positions of each major country

[marchlione]

.

[worminstuff]

dreamsmp mcmh

dreamsmp members as teachers au: blrub edition!

mcmh = Minecraft middle and high school

no warnings:)

wordcount: 3.9k

I will also definitely take requests from now on with this teacher au! Weather it be reader x teacher bla bla or whichever teacher and whatever prompt you think of! Just plop em in my inbox and I’ll check em out! I may not get to all of them or even see them all but I’ll try!

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Mr.Wastaken - math

“The quadratic equation isn't useless, you just don't understand it. Here,” the students glared at the diss from their teacher. Dream turned his back to them as he attempted to draw another diagram on the board.

He took a quick glance behind him at all the kids, he was only met with empty stares.

“Oh come on- guys! Really?” he laughed slightly, a wheeze crawling up his throat. They looked angry at him. “You all look like kicked puppies.”

One of the boys in the back kicked his friend. “Jared!” said friend threw his pencil at him.

“Okay well obviously we seem to be done with math today..” Dream sighed and shook his head slightly as everyone watched the fiasco in the back. He’ll step in. In a minute.

“If you throw the pencil by holding it by one end not in the middle, it'll spin more.” he called to the boys in the back. 

Mr.Blade - english

“Did anyone have any trouble or anything with the paired text writing last night?” his arms were folded on his chest, not in an angry or off putting way, his hands were just cold.

“Yeah actually I-” one student started,

“The rubric is the link under the one for the document template.” he  prematurely answered, a soft grin gracing his features.

“How did you?..” the student tilted their head in confusion. 

“You ask the same question every time.” Mr.Blade shrugged and everyone laughed softly.

Techno loved the little community that was his class, he's had them for about 3 months now so he's gotten to know them really well. This little bunch was incredibly creative and he really enjoys reading their assignments. 

Mr.Blade sat down on the edge of his desk and slid his still cold hands into his pocket, scanning the small group of kids in front of him.

“Is anyone having any trouble?” He tried to seem nice as he asked because he didn't want to come off as pushy. There was a chorus of yes’ and techno grinned.

“Well as you all know, as Sun Tzu once said-”

Before he could finish his sentence he was cut off by a series of groans and sighs as everyone rolled their eyes.

Techno smiled to himself. He really did love his job.

Mr.Jacobs - history

“Amy!” Karl excitedly grinned and dapped up a small girl walking into his class, “Was that extra credit assignment i sent pretty easy or was it too hard? I can switch it up if you don't like it.”

Amy told him it was fairly easy and she would be done with it very soon.

“No rush ames!” he said as he craned his neck a bit to look at her as she sat in her chair.

He was just about to step into his classroom as the bell rang, but a certain hand tugged on his forearm.

“Hey!- oh hi nick.” Karl's smile grew. Sapnap smiled but shook his head softly, “I've got a class this period but I wanted to come say hi first.”

Karl giggled, “simp!” he whispered before turning to quickly walk into his class.

Everyone was excitedly sitting in their chairs, talking about due assignments and anything else they could think of.

“Good morning everyone! Hello, hello, hello i hope your other teachers have treated you well this morning and if they haven't then that's okay cause you're here now.” he pointed finger guns at the bunch of them and then grabbed the remote to turn on the smart board.

Mr.Quack/Mr.Q - Spanish 

“Hola mi niños!” Quackity smiled widely at the bunch of  kids sitting in front of him, there was a chorus of answers from the excited kids. Many of them were in the “wrong seats” as to sit with friends because today, today was kahoot day.

Every Friday was kahoot day where they always do some type of kahoot whether it be related to the lesson or not and everyone was always excited.

Especially kids who have PE before this class, the coach's competitiveness really sticks.

No one hypes these kids up more than Mr.Quack, which causes for the occasional noise complaint.

“Aye! Mr español! Keep it down here you spanish gremlins.” Mr.Dude pressed his head through the doorway scolding the class, the students erupted into a large fit of laughter only causing their volume to rise.

“You can’t put a volume warning on learning Sam! We're popping off!” Quackity yelled over the laughter of his students.

Mrs.Nihachu - art

“Oh my goodness! This is beautiful!” Mrs.Nihachu flashed a sweet smile to the student in front of her. She was handed a small doodle of a flower and she was already pinning it on the board beside her desk.

Her class was currently working on their test grade assignments, some making sculptures with cardboard or paper mache, some making clay creations, others painting. It was a big jumble of chaotic creativeness and nikki was enjoying it thoroughly.

Her class was often chaotic in this way, but during lunch time it was much calmer. There was a small group of students that would eat in her room to escape the crazy chaos of the lunchroom, and she enjoyed it as much as them.

She loved to listen in on the current drama and give advice where she could, they were her little buddies and she adored them.

Coach Sapnap & Coach Punz - PE

The sound of a whistle was no stranger to this classroom, or rather, this gymnasium. There was only one whistle, and two teachers. Both coaches made it ritual that whoever got there first would get it for the day.

Today, Coach Sapnap happened to get the whistle first.

“Okay kiddos-” coach Punz was cut off by the blaring sound of the whistle beside him.

“Airtight Kiddos!” Coach Sapnap clapped happily as all the students turned their attention towards the two Coaches. “It's kickball day,” he grinned deviously as the students cheered.

Both of them directed the class to one end of the gym to split them into teams.

“Okay so we’ll pick two team captains, and then they'll go back and forth picking their team and then once everyone's picked, the team captains can rock paper scissors to pick which one of us you want on your team.” Punz explained and everyone nodded.

sapnap picked one of the smaller girls in the class as one captain, and another kid standing near her as the other. Both of the kids picked through the class until it was separated into two groups.

“Okay! Ready?” they both nodded. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” the girl had picked rock, and the other kid picked scissors. Immediately the victor pointed to Punz with a small smile.

Punz’s arms shot up in the air “Aye! That's right! Gimme five!” he high fived her small hand.

sapnap smiled and shook his head, “no this works out perfect because i know you guys were hoping for me on your team, right?” sapnap joked to his team, one boy jokingly piped up,

“well..Coach punz is ideal but, you're okay too.” the whole class erupted into laughter until Sapnap blew his whistle ushering them to start the game already.

Mr.Notfound - engineering 

“Mr.Notfound where are the extension cords for the soddering table?” George currently had his freshman period and they were working on a lightboard project. Today's task was soldering the leds to the correct wires and such on the back of the projects.

“Em..they should be there..are they just not? Or are they on top of it and you just didn't look?” he quirked a brow at the freshman.

“No, it's just not there..” they shrugged. 

George nodded, “alright, do you want to go ask Mr.Wastaken if he's got a spare or would you rather me go instead?” George asked with a small smile. He was quite stonic before so he was afraid the kid thought he was mad at them. The freshman said they would and scurried off.

George decided he wanted to walk around the class and see how everyone was faring with their projects and if there was anything else they couldn't find. 

He walked around all the desks and lab tables and stopped at a small group of friends all working separately but sitting together.

“How's it going over here?” He held a very small smile. The group replied positively and each showed their projects to which he praised. They were all really really cool already, and he couldn't wait to show Dream some of his favorites after they were turned in to be graded.

Mr.Fundy - biology

“Mr.Fundy, your coat is very...bright.” A student named Owen, was referring to his very colorful lab coat. He sounded as if he was trying to compliment him, but he really couldn’t just LIE to his teacher.

Fundy narrowed his eyes at Owen. Owens desk was directly in front of the lab table that was his desk, in the front of the room. Fundy was stood behind it.

Fundy placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, “are you making fun of me?”

“He SO is.” The girl next to Owen said with a grin.

“Hey! I wasn’t! It’s just very...different.” Owen defended.

Fundy pointed an accusing finger, “there’s that backhanded tone again!” He ended it with a giddy laugh.

The rest of the class joined in until, “alright alright! I get it! It’s not super pretty but! It’s a great Segway into today’s lab,”

The rest of the class groaned loudly, smiles showing through.

Fundy snorted a laugh and shook his head, pulling some beakers from the drawers in the table.

Electives:

Teacher Eret - sociology

“So she told you you weren’t invited? After all that?!” Eret was currently chit chatting with his very small third period clas that consisted of a small group of kids that happened to be friends.

“Right teacher eret! I was like, woah, that’s so honked up! So we all decided we’re not going.” A girl named Jane said.

“Well that’s very sweet of you, I would’ve done the same.” Eret patted the first girls head endearingly as he walked back to his desk to sit in his desk chair. The girls continued their small conversation, including teacher eret when they wanted input.

Eret was heavily fond of classes like this where they were all very close already and he found it easy to bond with them. It just happened that these girls did there work on time so they had plenty of time to chat with him and eachother. 

His favorite thing was when they’d give him fashion advice, because he always took them up on it. It paid off too, he’s a very dashing dude because of it!

Mr. Dude - comp science

Sam was sat at his desk typing away as the class was doing a quiet activity. They were playing around with coding websites that are essentially games. The class was fairly small, so he’d grown quite a bond with his little dudes over the past couple months.

“How are all you guys other classes going?” He asked, turning his chair to face them.

“Mr.Notfound is honestly about to give me a headache.” One of the girls sat towards the window said, her friend beside her laughed and nodded.

Sam laughed softly, “how come?”

“His room is always a mess! I can never find the correct pieces for anything. You have to look where you wouldn’t think it would ever be and then that’s where it always is!”

A few other kids laughed and agreed as they had him aswell.

“Not to mention he gets grouchy sometimes when we ask him to much.” One boy poked in.

“He does? That’s not to nice. I’ll poke him about it.” Sam said to his kiddos with a soft smile, “how we feeling about a snack break?”

All the kids quickly agreed and he pulled a box out from under his desk with various snacks and drinks and placed it on the floor in the front of the room.

“Have at it!” He made his way back to his desk as there were various wrapper sounds and “thanks Mr.Dude”’s

Mr.Soot - drama

“Okay let me get this straight- you did the script assignment but you didn’t study the lines?” Mr.Soots eyes were narrowed.

“Well no i used the script to help but I didn’t memorize it.” The girl in front of him said, her name is gene.

“Hm. Alright, you can just read off it then I suppose, it better not render your performance though, geney!” He smiled as he nudged her towards the stage. 

The students were doing this group project where they made their own story’s and scrips and they got to perform them for fun, not for a grade. They had a free day so they decided it would be fun to do it today, and Wilbur was the most exciting out of all of them.

He watched each one, giving copious amounts of praise and encouragement and he really enjoyed it. The bell rang faster than they’d all expected since they were having so much fun, and he waved them off as they went on to their next class.

Wilbur sighed to himself, a content smile on his face as he sat in the front row of the auditorium. 

“What’s with the sigh?” A voice started him slightly as it broke the silence of the large room.

“Jesus phil, a bit of a warning, yeah?” He pressed a hand to his chest.

“Sorry, should’ve announced myself. My bad, mate.” Phil walked up the small steps of the stage and sat on the top few, facing wilbur.

“You looked awfully content, a good class?” Phil asked.

“Oh definitely. Love that bunch to bits. They’re so smart and they’ve got so much passion for theater but they’re so carefree and they have so much fun. I just love to be a part of it. Makes my job a whole lot more fun.” Wilbur spoke with a proud grin. It was true, he really did adore his students and he was beyond proud of them.

“I’m glad!” Phil stood, “keep up the good work, kid.” He clapped him on the shoulder as Wilbur nodded.

Mr.Schlatt - political science

“No you said it was before the time you had it, therefore your argument is invalid cause how can you claim you had it during that time if the entire argument is based around you not having it?”

Schlatt stared at the student in front of him. He was a tad speechless, which was impressive in itself.

They were talking about a stupid debate thing shlatt had made up, but he made it with a loophole, wondering if they’d actually catch it. He was very surprised one of the students actually did.

“You’re correct actually. Good job, ren.” His brows were raised as he tried to hide his proud grin. He didn’t want them to know how genuinely excited he was that they figured it out.

“That’s stupid.” Ren said, with a blank stare.

“Aye!-“ Schlatt was about to go off a tad when the door opened and Mr.Q stood in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting a yelling session?” He asked

“Yes.” Both Ren and Schlatt answered at the same time.

Mr.Halo - self defense

Mr.Halos class was one of the chilliest, like Erets and Sams, there wasn’t a whole lot of work getting done during class since they would just talk about various things and have snacks.

Today Bad taught them about various hotlines they may need to know about for different situations they’d find themselves in.

“Do they just make hotlines for everything these days Mr.Halo?” One kid asked.

“Well sometimes. Not for everything though, but definitely for a lot of things.” He responded.

He was currently sat cris cross on the rug in the front of his room, munching on a orange as the rest of the class was also having snacks. 

He loved classes like this because these were times when his job didn’t feel like work, he loved that he was helping make sure these kids could be educated enough to protect themselves when he couldn’t. He worried about them, but he felt happy when he could see them safe and sound, and not hungry, like they were at the moment. He cherished these simple moments the most.

Even more than the times he’s watched them scrimmage some defense tactics and evidently fall on their butts in some instances. 

Mr.Skeppy - money management

“Mr Skeppy, I'm bored.” 

“Okay.” Skeppy replied as he stared at his computer screen, his head rested in his hand.

The student scowled slightly, others giggled to themselves.

“Mr.Skeppyyyy” the kid groaned, the kids around him laughing. 

“Fine, if i put up a kahoot will you all leave me alone?” He smiled softly, sending the kid a side eye.

The class agreed loudly and he pulled up a kahoot about vines.

“Whoever gets first place gets 6 bucks.” Skeppy said with a grin as he leaned back in his chair.

“Isn’t that counter productive to the lesson we’re learning about waisting money on stupid things?” One girl said.

“Why six?!” Another student suddenly said, the rest of the class flowing into laughter.

Mr.H - hospitality

“Wait so your other teachers didn’t give you guys valentines?” Mr.H asked, his eyes wide as he stared at the kids in front of him.

They all shook their heads, “Mr.Jacobs and Mrs.Nihachu did. But that’s it.” One boy said as he shrugged.

“Mr.Wastaken didn’t even know it was valentines until we mentioned it, poor Mr.Notfound.” One girl said back, her eyes trailing of to the floor as she raised her brows. 

Mr.H laughed loudly, he loved how his kiddos were so comfortable in his class to diss their own teachers.

“Well not here! Today you all have a valentine and that valentine is me.” He said as he placed little bags full of different candies on each of their desks. He put them together all by himself with little hand written letters. It was adorable.

They all excitedly opened the little presents and read the notes together, all of them giving Mr.H a hug. 

It was a very adorable day in the H classroom.

Mr.Frost - horticulture

“Mr.Frost! Can we go outside for class today?” The students were filing in for class since the bell just rang.

“Sure! How about..how about we go bug hunting?” He replied.

The students all agreed very excitedly. Once the bell rang for the start of the period they began doing their begging of class rituals which included watering a bunch of different plants and taking care of the compost bin. Then once that was all done everyone got some jars and set out to go outside and see what they could find.

Everyone ran around trying to find different things and yelling out when they did find things.

“Mr.Frost! I found a caterpillar!” A boy named Lennon ran up to Ant.

“Really?! Show!” Ant watched happily as the boy showed his new caterpillar friend.

They discussed what type of caterpillar it may be before Lennon ran back off to his friends. 

Ant loved classes like this where he got to be outside in the sun and watch all his students learn hands on in a super fun (and adorable) way. It was one of his all time favorite things.

Staff:

Mr.Minecraft - principal

“but it’s so annoying! Why can’t I just leave when I gotta go, why should I ask to take a piss!” 

Phil stared at the boy in front of him, a blond one by the name of Tommy. This kid frequented his office way to often.

“I don’t know Mr.Innit but you’ve got to listen to your teachers, it'll get you out of my office and I think that’s something we both want.” Mr.Minecraft glared slightly.

“Oh come on! You don’t like hanging with me Mr.Minecraft?!” Tommy said with a grin.

“No, Tommy we’re not ‘hanging out’ you’re in trouble.”

“Well when you put it that way it seems bad-“ Phil cut tommy off,

“It is bad Tommy!” He scoffed, holding in a laugh.

Mrs.Puffy - councilor 

Mrs.Puffy was a hugger, a very big hugger. So whenever kids came in crying over just anything, hugs were a must. Often students would visit when they only needed a hug! Sometimes that was her favorite thing.

“He said there was no-“ the small girl heaved for air a tad before continuing, “l-late credit, but but I didn’t have time and I- I need to get the grade and I just-“

“Hey, hey, it’s alright! Mr.Blade seems scary but I bet if he knew you were this stressed he would be very happy to help you out! He’s a very nice man.” Mrs puffy wad currently trying to calm this girl out of a the panic attack she was seemingly having.  

“R-really?” She asked Mrs.Puffy

“Of course! I actually think he’s got a free period right now, would you like to talk to him now? I can have him come here so I’ll be here to and it’ll be easy peasey lemon squeezey!” Puffy said with a big smile.

The girls nodded softly with a sniffle and puffy brought her in for a hug.

She would always have the kids backs, no matter what. Even if that meant talking to the big scary Mr.Blade, who was more likely afraid of her really.

Teacher Callahan - substitute

“Callahan!” Mr.Wastaken yelled, he was laughing but he was getting slightly frustrated.

Callahan apparently didn’t have a class this period, so he went to Mr.Wastakens class as he usually does to annoy him.

Callahan has been taking the pens for the whiteboard dream was trying to use and passing it around to students to pass to each other . It was very funny.

Callahan didn’t always pick this class because of Dream, he also picked it because there was a fellow mute in this period. Her name was alise, and she used ASL alot, which made Callahan actually learn a bit so he could talk to her! 

Dream actually thought it was really cute, so he tried to get Callahan to teach him some as well, so he could talk to alise the way she communicated. This backfired terribly after dream learned that thank you, and fuck you, we’re actually very similar signs. Callahan had taught him the latter. Alise never corrected him, she only made a silly face and huffed out a small laugh. Dream apologized a lot once he learned. Callahan thought it was hilarious though, so often him and alise sign said sign to dream just to tease him.

Another thing Callahan did often was stand behind dream, and mock him. Dream would walk farther from the board as he would go on and on talking with his hands and such. Callahan would make his way behind him and pretend to sit on the edge of his desk.

So every time dream would turn around wondering why all the kids were laughing at him, he would see a normal looking Callahan who would only shrug. This always made the kids laugh even more. No one would rat him out though, it was teacher Callahan!

[waynewifey]

I want to ruin our friendship. —

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Summary: The Marauders, tired of seeing Y/N’s sights of love, sneak Veritaserum into her drink, hoping to make her confess to James Potter.

Warnings: Underage drinking.

Words: 1400.

A/N: This is not my best work but lately I’ve been simping a lot for James... This is based on the song “Jenny” by Studio Killers. Hope you like it! Btw, my requests are always open.

"I just think it would be easier if you told him, you know? Just get over it already, the school year is ending and soon enough we'll be graduating and what if he vanished for good? You'll never know what could have happened between you two." Marlene said, making Y/N roll her eyes at her best friend. She tapped on her parchment the thoughts soaking in.

"Okay, that's enough. Just because you and Sirius worked out it doesn't mean that it'll happen the same to me. James is my best friend since we're eleven, I can't risk loosing everything." Y/N paused, whooshing away dark thoughts. "Now, add this: Veritaserum is a powerful truth serum. The potion effectively forces the drinker to answer any questions put to them truthfully, though there are certain methods of resistance. The use of this potion is strictly controlled by the British Ministry of Magic. " She dictated while Marlene wrote it down on their potions project. The blonde girl stared at the words for a second, a brilliant idea popping up in her mind.

"You've never seen Y/N staring at Potter? You must be kidding me. You boys are so oblivious!" McKinnon exclaimed scoffing, annoyed at her boyfriend.

"No need to offend us." Sirius joked, but corrected his posture when Marlene didn't laugh. "Has she ever said anything to you, Moony? I mean, we can't make her drink a truth serum for nothing, it will probably cost a lot to us."

"No, we usually don't talk about our love life." Remus said and continued talking before Sirius could say something more. "For the hundredth time, Padfoot, we don't have a twin ability to read each other's mind." Black scoffed and threw himself at the sofa, with no more ideas.

"Let's just do it. One way or the other, it will eventually happen, we're just helping them to do it earlier." Dorcas said from the door of the common room, where she was looking out for the two love birds.

"Fine. So here's the plan: Dorcas and Peter sneak into Slughorn's office and steal the material. I mean, borrow. Then they'll bring to me and Lily, we'll brew a stronger version of the Veritaserum, it should make her say whatever it's on her mind at that moment. Then we all go to Ravenclaw's party tonight. Remus puts some drops on her cup and we find a way to get them to be alone." Mary McDonald explained, every eyes of the room on her.

"That should be easy, we better get going though." Peter stood up and so did the rest of the group but Sirius and Marlene. Y/N and James entered the common room, back from their study session.

"And that is why I think everyone, including the wizarding society, should listen to Queen. I have a vinil of theirs in my dorm, I can show you later." Y/N said, making James nod in agreement. "Where's everyone?" She asked the couple.

"They had to... do stuff." Sirius said. Y/N and James sat on the couch. He embraced her by the side and she rested her head on his shoulder, like they always did. He smelled her strawberry scented shampoo and his heart skipped a beat.

"That's a shame, I wanted to talk to Peter. 'Heard he wanted a girlfriend." Y/N stated and closed her eyes. James' ones were now wide open, trying to look at her without moving.

"What do you mean?!"

"I saw this cute little mouse near the black lake, if you know what I mean." She laughed softly, being followed by everyone else in the room.

After a few hours talking, Marlene reminded everyone of the party and they hurried to get ready. On her way to the dorms, Y/N started taking off James' quidditch jersey.

"No, no. You can keep it. This one is getting old anyways. Besides, you look good on it." Potter said, offering a smile. Y/N blushed aggressively and rushed upstairs. She closed the door behind her, hugging the piece of clothing against her chest. She left it on her bed, next to her pillowcase — one of James' old shirts. She bathed and wore a dress that was a gift from James, the most beautiful one in her trunk. An hour later, she met her twin downstairs.

"Am I too late?" She asked.

"A bit, they left already." Remus answered, taking her arm and leading her to the Fat Lady.

The music in the Ravenclaw common room was very loud, it being in the tallest tower of the castle, noone down there would barely hear anything. There was a first grader at the entrance, answering all the riddles so the seventh graders could enter the party without burning their neurones. The sky-ish ceiling was quite a decoration. Besides being introverts, ravenclaws usually pulled out the best parties, because they would never get caught. Sirius quickly approached the twins, giving each one of them a drink. Remus stared at it for a bit while Y/N took a sip. She ran to the dance floor to meet her girlfriends. After a few songs, she went back to the sofas, siting beside her brother. Bring back that Leroy Brown started blasting from nowhere and Y/N jumped, finding James two meters from her. She grabbed the cup on her brothers hand and pulled Potter to the dance floor.

"THIS IS QUEEN!" She screamed at his ear, starting to dance. James, who didn't even knew the song, started jamming to it. He looked at her, the shadows of her face folding the traits that, as he thought, were perfect. She danced and screamed the lyrics like the world would end tomorrow. The song ended and she took a sip of the drink. It was bitter, she felt weak and fell into his arms.

"I think I'm sick," He took her in the arms and walked her out of the common room. They ran to the Astronomy Tower, where the air was fresh and she could breathe better.

"James, darling, you're my best friend." She said after a long moment of silence. They were sitting at the floor, her head was placed on his neck corner. Her words were barely understandable, she looked up to his brown orbits. "But there's a few things that you don't know of..."

"What are you talking about?" His expression was confused but he kept listening closely, watching her lips twitch under the moonlight.

"Why I borrow your jerseys so often..." Even though she wanted to, she couldn't stop talking. The words fell so easily from her mouth, she didn't understand what was happening.

"I already told you, I don't mind. They really do look good on you." He chuckled, earning a grin from her. You're so beautiful, I love you; he thought.

"I'm using your shirt as a pillow case."

"That's kind of creepy." He joked. She put a hand on his cheek, trying to hold back her next words.

"I want to ruin our friendship. We should be lovers instead." She finally said it. Her body was so light it could have flied away. He furrowed his eyebrows, completely surprised.

"Are you serious...?"

"I don't know how to say this, 'cause you're really my dearest friend but," She leaned her forehead to his, taking a deep breath. "James I'm in love with you. I've always been. I love you and I want to be with you forever... And I know this'll end everything but I had to tell you and,"

"I love you too, Y/N. Since third grade, when you tutored me for the first time and now I go on study dates even knowing every content, so I can be alone with you for an hour or two." He smiled, positioned his hand on her neck and kissed her for the first time. It just felt so right to be there, to be with him. She melted into his arms for a deeper intimate moment.

They went back to the party when she felt better, holding hands and getting everyone's attention. The marauders smiled and gave themselves a high-five. They knew that their relationship would be beautiful and last for long.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: AU 

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: There’s a new Spider person in town and it’s not Parker.

A/N: This is a continuation of the Parker story that I posted last year. I’m sorry to everyone who reads and likes my ff, I’m very slow when it comes to writing. I’ve been feeling down for a while and now I’ve decided to try and work on stories that I was already in the process of writing. So hopeful I’ll do better in time. Also I don’t live in NY so streets and stuff might not always be correct. Also I can’t spell half the time and spell check doesn’t always catch things and sometimes I miss words for a sentence to make sense, I never reread my writing I just didn’t in school and so I don’t really do it now, SORRY!!

You’ve reached the phone number of (Y/n) (L/n) please leave a message at the tone of the beep...

Peter groaned as he tried to reach you for the third time wondering when you will be home since you had to work on a chemistry project with him. Even though you weren’t the best in the science area you said you didn’t want Peter to do all the work on his own. You told him to come to your house around 4, but it was now 6:30 and he didn’t know when you would be home. Your aunt allowed him to stay in your room until you came back, he thought it was a little weird she didn’t really seem that worried about where you were.

As Peter looked around your room, he realized that he didn’t know that much about you. All he knows is that you transferred from a different state to New York to live with some distant relative in 8th grade. The both of you would have small encounters with just a small smile here or a quiet ‘hi’ there if you were sitting next to each other.

Then out of the blue one day during sophomore year, you just sat down at the same table as him during study hall. 

---

Peter was working on his calculus homework having not finished the night before, having to focus on his chemistry homework and then having a tiny project for World History, which he had to do all by himself because no one else chose to help him out. He didn’t stress himself too much about the homework, his brain worked fast enough to understand the problems plus his class was after lunch and if he didn’t finish now he’ll just finish then. He was brought out of his thoughts of fast working math problems and numbers, when a loud thud sounded through the library and even louder when it was placed in front of him at his table. He heard the librarian shush the person from her desk.

“Sorry” the person responsible replied back loud enough for only Peter to hear.

Peter looked up to come face to face with the culprit. They looked disheveled, their hair a bit of a mess, their shirt had a couple of stains in different colors on the front. They just had a simple jean jacket covering them from the slight autumn breeze of Queens, New York. You seemed to have noticed Peter’s gaze on your face having turned towards him with a bashful expression on your face.

“Sorry, sometimes I don’t know my own strength.” you said quietly.

“No problem” Peter said with a light smile on his lips.

“I’m (Y/n)” you outstretched your hand for a shake.

“Peter” he said, grabbing your outstretched hand.

---

7:13pm

‘There seems to be no more crime happening at the moment’

“Okay, well I guess it’s time for me to head home then. At least I have far less bruises than normal so it’s not gonna be a big deal when I get home, I don’t want to have to sit through another lecture.” you rolled your eyes behind the mask on your face covering your features. 

‘You seem to have missed a phone call, you have one voicemail from a Peter Parker’

“Hey (Y/n)...um I’m at your house right now waiting for you so we can work on our project. I’ve been here for about two hours now and it's getting late so I’m probably gonna end up leaving since my aunt is probably waiting for me to get home. I guess I’ll just see you tomorrow at school. Okay, bye (Y/n).”

“Crap! I forgot about the project, Peter’s probably upset with me.” you sighed and decided to call Peter.

Nothing. You called again. Nothing. Again and again. Nothing. You tried five times and he never answered, a part of you thinks he’s probably just ignoring you for standing him up. The other part worries that he could be in trouble right now. It is Queens.

“Hey Karen can you do another sweep of the city? Any type of crimes or assaults happening at the moment?” worry lacing your voice hoping nothing is or happened to Peter, sweet Peter.

‘There is no crime at the moment (Y/n)’

“Can you search for Peter Parker? Can you give me his current location?” you ask with a slight shake to your questions.

‘Peter Parker is currently on the streets of 7th and Jefferson ave’

He’s not that far away from me you thought to yourself with a sigh.

You were only a few buildings away from Peter so you lept from rooftop to rooftop, sitting nicely on top of an apartment building's roof looking down onto the passerbyers, everyone in their own world and minding their business. As you were watching everyone walk by you kept your eyes open for Peter, even though he did look like every normal teenage boy with brown curly hair from atop, he did have little charms on his backpack; for one being a Ironman POP! Figure keychain for the opening of the big pocket.

---

You were walking down the halls of Midtown trying to find your locker on the first day of sophomore year. It was kinda difficult with everyone walking to and fro not minding you any time or stepping out of the way just a little.

‘Rude’

Just as you found your locker someone ran into you causing you to drop the notebooks and textbooks out of your arms, dropping to the floor with a loud thud. You just scuffed yourself and chose to open your locker first so you don’t have to deal with the weight in your arms. After trying your combination for a third time and nothing happening, you just leaned your head against the metal doors and just sighed out through your nose to try and keep yourself calm and not cause tears or your fist to hit the metal. 

“Um...sorry to bother you, but do you need help?” Someone beside you asked timidly and quietly.

You looked up from the floor being face to face with someone who was kneeling beside you on the ground stacking some of your textbooks onto each other. He was a boy around your age with a delicate sprinkle of freckles dotting his face. He had glasses on the bridge of his nose and eyes that looked to be brown colored, but it wasn’t his eye color it was the way his eyes looked at you that drew you in a bit. He looked a bit like a deer in headlights mixed with puppy dog eyes that were just looking into yours with some concern and maybe embarrassment coming in since you were taking a long time to answer him and was just staring at a stranger.

You blinked out of your stupor and smiled at him and asked if he could try and place your locker combination for you. Because if you tried one more time and it didn’t work you might actually punch it. The boy smiled at you and was able to open your locker for you and helped hold half the textbooks.

“Thank you for helping me, since everyone else chooses to be rude.” You grumbled out the last bit.

The boy just smiled at you and said it was no problem and then he walked away probably to meet up with his friend.

---

7:35pm

 You still haven’t seen Peter walking anywhere and you were just about to give up and head home when Karen alerted you to a crime in progress.

‘There is a mugging in progress two blocks from here in an alley behind a deli’

You rushed over to the position that Karen sent you and hoped that it wasn’t Peter. Well, it was Peter sadly who was on the ground and shaking with his backpack ripped open and the contents spilling out. The thug was pointing a knife at Peter and yelling at him for money.

Deciding that now was the time to intervene you shot a web to the thugs knife and yanked it out of his grasp.

“You know you shouldn’t be pointing sharp objects at people, what would your grandma have to say?”

Honestly you had to roll your eyes a bit, really (y/n)? His grandma?

You jumped down from the balcony of an apartment and landed in front of Peter blocking him from view. You rose to your full height and placed your hands on your hips, cocking to the right a bit. You turned your head to look at Peter making sure he was okay and safe for the moment, he wasn’t shaking anymore which was good, but he now was just staring wide eyed at you.

“Are you okay?” You asked him

He just nodded his head then looked to your left and pointed a finger, presumably at the thug. When your spider senses went off you just lifted both hands and grasped the thug's arm and flipped him over onto his back making him gasp for air. You then webbed him up to the balcony and had Karen call the cops.

When you were done you walked back over to Peter and knelt down to help grab his stuff off the ground and place them back into his backpack. You then held out your hand to help lift Peter off the ground. When Peter placed his hand in your grasp you might have pulled a little more than you meant causing Peter to collide with your chest and moving your arm to his waist making sure he was stable.

You both stood still in the position for a few seconds before breaking apart chuckling awkwardly. Peter rubbed his neck and you just held your hands behind your back. The silence was starting to become suffocating, so you were about to ask Peter if he wanted a ride home, but he broke the silence first.

“Thank you for what you did earlier.” Peter said quietly

“Eh, it’s no problem.” You shrugged off

You both still stood there not knowing what else to say at the moment. So Peter just took that as a cue to leave since he started to walk out the alley. That prompted you to remember what you were thinking earlier.

“Hey!” You called out to Peter

He stopped in his spot and turned around facing you.

“Would you like a ride? Or even a walking companion?”

Peter just smiled at you showing that the requests weren’t weird to him so you started to walk towards him.

“I could use a walking companion. I would take the ride suggestion, but I’m pretty sure you mean swinging on webs about 15ft or more in the sky away from the ground and I already have a bad fear of heights.” Peter rambled out

You just chuckled to yourself and walked next to him prompting the both of you to walk in silence for a while.

“So what were you doing walking by yourself? It’s never a good idea to be by yourself, especially if you don’t have some type of weapon.” You questioned

Peter didn’t answer right away so you turned to look at him and he was looking at the ground with a slight pout to his mouth. You already know he’s gonna say it was because you never showed up at your own house.

“Well I was supposed to work on a school project with a classmate at her house, but she never showed up for some reason and I was there for about three hours and I told my aunt and uncle I would be home around 8 so I just decided to leave hoping to make it home before it was really dark out. Then I was cleaning my glasses and they dropped, so I had to pull a Velma from Scooby-Doo and look for my glasses. I think the thug was hiding behind the trash or something.” Peter spoke while still looking towards the ground.

You could tell that you not showing up really hurt him, he probably thought you were just using him for a good grade and lied or something.

“Looks like I’ll be doing the project by myself like usual. I just thought that I made a friend, especially for that class since my friend Ned doesn’t share it with me.”

“Well I’m sure she didn’t bail on purpose. Maybe something she accidentally forgot.” You tried to save yourself from looking bad in Peter’s eyes.

Peter just shrugged his shoulders and the conversation ended since apparently you ended up outside of Peter’s apartment. You both turned to each, having yet another awkward silence between the both of you. You took the silence to look at Peter’s features which looked softened in the moonlight, but also harsh with the fluorescent lighting of street lamps. As you were getting lost in Peter’s details Karen rang in your ears telling you that your aunt wants you home in the next 20 minutes or you’re grounded.

“Um well Peter I got to leave, but I hope you have a good evening.” and then you salute in a flirty way at least you hope it came off like that.

As you swung off into the night, heading home to finally relax; Peter was eating dinner with his family and as he was slowly chewing his chow mein he realized what was bugging him for the past 15 minutes, he never gave you his name. He was both curious and a bit worried, worried that you might have been following for a while before tonight and curious because if you weren’t a stalker which he decided to rule out since you have to protect Queens; that means you probably know him from somewhere else. And Peter was going to find out where.

[gallickingun]

reassurance || oikawa tooru

SUMMARY: You and Oikawa Tooru have become close after spending weeks partnered together in your college course. You have an unspoken relationship, nothing exclusive, but Oikawa plans to change that once he realizes a toll his other female fanatics have on you and your confidence.

PAIRING: Oikawa x Fem!Reader RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: language, negative feelings, anxiety, etc. WORD COUNT: 3.8k+

Author’s Note: This is my very first Haikyuu!! piece. I’m not sure how it ended up being Oikawa, but here we are! In the future, if you guys want, I’ll definitely do more Oikawa but also Sugawara, Kuroo, Bokuto, and Kageyama!

The jersey sits heavy on your shoulders – as if Atlas himself had bestowed the burden of carrying the weight of the world to you personally. Your back aches but you stand when the set is thrown across the court anyway, hands held close together in preparation of a clap.

He always gives you a reason to redden your hands in praise.

When the ball slams onto the court, his eyes turn to you – dark and playful, the lilt of a smirk on his lips. His left eye drops in a wink and as you bring your hand up to wave, your body tenses at the sound of screams from just behind your position in the bleachers.

“Oikawa!” They drag out each syllable of his name for an excessive amount of time, and the flirtatious drawl of their voices makes your skin crawl. They giggle in unison, a flurry of voices trying to be louder than the last, their laughter echoing off the gym walls, “Great serve!”

Your hands wring together in your lap as you find your seat again, eyes downcast so you cannot make out the frustrated expression on his face when you back down from them. He grits his teeth and curls his fists, but anyone looking on and unaware would believe he was just pushing himself to newer limits, a higher level to achieve. He is not known for his tendency to stagnate, especially not in a game where there are newscasters and reporters present, scouts for national level teams scattered in the stands.

“I heard he’s seeing someone,” a higher-pitched voice chimes in, just across your shoulder. Before you can turn your body to defend yourself, or the girl in question can continue, another one further to the left butts in, “Yeah, but I heard it’s not exclusive. Which basically means he’s still fair game.”

“He’s not a piece of meat, guys.”

You’re thankful for whichever third voice of reason pipes up, but the sheer number of girls giggling behind you does little to quell your spiraling nerves. The pit of your stomach is in shambles, your arms wrapped around your torso in an attempt to hold yourself together while the last set of the game winds down.

They’re not wrong, per say. You and Oikawa aren’t exclusively dating, not really calling one another pet names, or holding hands across campus. At most, you’re comfortable, your bodies walking in synch from building to building, finding it easy to fill the otherwise awkward silence with talk, or comfortable just basking in the quiet. He will throw an arm around your shoulders and kiss your temple, but the actual affection is saved for when he walks you to your car or you spend the evening studying in his dorm.

The two of you started off as lab partners, forced to spend extra time outside of class together to study and put together a project that’s worth a decent amount of your semester grade. In that time, you’d grown to enjoy his company, and he started inviting you out with his teammates and their friends after practice and to parties, and even to study together for other subjects outside of the lab class you were taking.

It was not long before your mouths found one another and your hearts grew to become intertwined.

And now, here you are, stood in the stands, your body on the edge of your seat as he twirls the ball in his palms, blowing a breath through his teeth as he steps to the edge of the court. He toes the white line, as if mentally marking the spot, the start of a smirk on his lips as he grows more confident with each passing second. Your heart stalls within your chest, just as it always does, when the ball is thrown into midair, spinning so quickly you can hardly see the multi-colored stripes, rather each piece blurring together to create one dark hue.

Oikawa manages to throw another service ace, bringing the game to match point in favor of your school’s team. As the ball is rolled back underneath the net, he turns to look at you, undoubtedly gazing directly into your eyes, tilting his head in your direction and blowing a kiss from the center of his palm.

You reach your palm out into midair, stretching your digits so your hand is wide open. It is a silly thing, something the both of you started when you had to be across campus from one another, unable to meet up for lunch or coffee or studying. After a moment, your fingers wrap around your empty palm, grabbing his intangible kiss from the space between you. He watches intently as you press your digits against your lips, the ghost of his kiss on the ridges of your fingerprints. As your mouth curls upward in a smile, Oikawa’s expression lilts to match your own, the faintest hint of dimples dipping into his cheeks on either side.

“If you think that was for you, then you’re delusional,” the tinny-voiced girl from before leans down to whisper in your ear, her hand menacingly placed on your shoulder, like a weight meant to sink you to the bottom of the ocean. “It was obviously for me. I have my linguistics course with ‘kawa, and he and I were partnered up for a project this past week. He’s so totally into me, even offered to carry my books.”

Her heels look pointed enough that she could pierce your throat or your eye with the tip, so you merely shove her hand off of your shoulder and turn around, clapping as Oikawa tosses his next serve up in the air. You rally with the rest of the crowd, whooping and hollering when his hand hits the ball, a loud echo from the slap making you wince.

When you look up, the ball is in play, volleying back and forth from one side to the next. Oikawa’s face is flushed, hands at the ready as he takes his position. After a few more moments, a perfect set from Oikawa to your team’s ace lands them the final point they need to win the set.

The entire crowd goes ecstatic, everyone standing to their feet, ringing their bells and blaring their horns, clapping their hands as the boys on the court jump up and down and hug one another. Oikawa has his arm around the ace, tugging him to tell him something close in his ear, but his eyes wander to the crowd, finding you in an instant, dropping his left lid down in a wink. You can’t help the way your heart constricts within your ribs, like a caged dove desperate to fly free. Your hand are over your face as the teams both line up to thank one another for the game, and once they are released to the locker rooms, you start to gather your things.

You hear a snicker from above you, and when you turn your head, a thin, beautiful brunette with blue eyes is glaring down at you, a smirk tugging upward on her thin, peachy lips. She cackles, crossing her arms over her ample chest to multiply the appearance of her size, “I hope you’re not waiting around for ‘Kawa. Prepare to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed in what?”

The familiar, smooth voice in your ear sends your whole body into a stupor. You look over your shoulder, but he’s already so close to you that you can feel the heat of him against your side. Oikawa’s palm slides into the back pocket of your jeans and your tongue lolls back in your throat, near choked on the organ as you watch him sidle his attention to the girls stood behind you on the next row of bleachers, an unassuming expression aligning his features.

Your body flushes with heat, face warm to the touch and your backside where his hand is currently placed is practically throbbing at the attention. Oikawa pulls you in tighter, your body tucked into his side, and he smiles, eyes near-sparkling underneath the fluorescent gym lighting.

“Hey pretty girl,” he kisses the crown of your head, squeezing you with his elbow that is around your back as best he can, “did you enjoy the game?”

Glancing up at him, you make eye contact and it floods your body with a familiar warmth, your stomach doing flips and your heart pattering within your chest, “Yes, you did so well! That’s two more service aces than last game!”

“That’s my girl.” Another kiss is pressed to your temple, his lips warm and smooth against your skin. You note that he’s being even more affectionate than normal, and you have to wonder if it’s in response to seeing those girls encroaching on your space. “Now what was this about being disappointed? Not in my game, was it? I know I screwed up a couple of times, but I think I redeemed myself alright!”

You turn to the girls stood in the bleachers, their faces paling in color as their jaws hang open just slightly, his words doing little to reign them in. The expression on your face has morphed into one of self-satisfaction and smugness, lips quirked into a smirk, one brow cocked upward, “No, ‘Ru, I think you did great. These girls were just worried you weren’t paying attention during the sets, is all.”

Oikawa stifles a laugh before it can break through the aloof expression he is wearing, eyes wide as he narrows his gaze to the group of college girls now stammering and blushing in regret for sticking around this long. He reaches behind his head to rest his palm on his neck, cocking his jaw slightly to the side to relay even more of an innocent appearance. You turn your body closer to him, his chest pressed against yours from the side, your arms circled around his waist. Now his hand in your pocket is on full display, thumb jutted out from the fabric, but the other four fingers are perfectly slotted against your backside.

“I’ll admit I was a little distracted,” he scrunches his nose, eyes crinkling at the edges as he does so. He turns from them to you, sliding his other hand down your ribs to your free pocket, aligning the fronts of your bodies so your chests are flush. Oikawa’s honeyed gaze is lingering on you, and for the moment you feel like there is a spotlight on the two of you, center stage as he brushes the tip of his nose against the bridge of your face.

“I knew you were coming to the game, all decked out in my jersey. I couldn’t help but stare at you between sets.” Your cheeks burn as he kisses your forehead, but you can’t help the uneasiness that you feel swirling in your stomach, dripping down your throat like acid. You wonder if his intentions are pure – is he truly claiming you as his in front of this crowd, or is he merely trying to throw them off of his scent, using you as bait?

Oikawa tugs on the hem of the jersey adorning your torso, something akin to pride shining in his warm irises, quelling the turmoil in your belly for just a moment. “You look adorable in my clothes.”

The shrill one out of the three speaks up, pushing herself onto her tip-toes to appear taller, looming down over you both, “B-But I thought you guys weren’t allowed to let other people wear their jerseys?”

“Oh yeah,” Oikawa waves his hand in midair, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, “I got special permission from the coach, he said since I was the one who closed our last few games with those service aces, he’d let me loan the jersey out to my girl.”

At the mention of my girl, Oikawa turns to kiss you on the forehead, tucking your head beneath his chin as he holds you closer. He smiles over the top of you at the group of girls, a smug tone seeping into his words, in spite of his innocent expression, “Are you girls here for someone?”

They all begin to stutter in jumbled tones before scrambling down the bleachers, apologizing and taking their leave. The door to the gymnasium has hardly shut before Oikawa bursts into a fit of laughter, holding you by the arms as he takes in your bashful expression. He leans down, trying to remain close despite the noisy crowds maneuvering their way through the gym, “You wanna grab something to eat? Coach gave us tomorrow off from practice, so I don’t have to head back to the dorms just yet.”

“Yeah,” you nod, your hands pressing flat to his chest, jersey stuck to his skin with sweat. You scrunch your nose in response, shaking your head and forcing a disgusted sound from the back of your throat, “You better shower first though, Tooru, cause I’m not going anywhere with your stink.”

Oikawa squeezes your backside gently with his limited grip, hands still stuffed in your pockets, “I’ll be out of the locker room in a few minutes. You can wait for me in the car, okay?”

Your hand finds his keys, jingling as you move your hip, the lanyard weighing heavy on your beltloop, “Yeah, okay.”

His eyes find you instantaneously, your tone dropped an octave as you loop your index finger through the o-ring that his car key is attached to, your knuckle crooked around the cool metal, as if you were keeping it safe from harm. Oikawa pulls you forward with a gentle tug against your backside, your body enraptured with his as he looks down at you, his nose brushing your forehead.

“Thank you for coming,” Oikawa’s lips are against the dip in your brows, running down the bridge of your nose, “I think you’re my favorite good luck charm.”

You can’t help but chuckle sarcastically, your fists curling around his jersey, “As if you need any good luck, ‘Ru.”

Oikawa withdraws his hands from your pockets, but pats your ass gently, causing you to stumble into him until your bodies are flush. He laughs into your hair, kissing the crown of your head affectionately before releasing you.

He’s walking away, but he makes sure to call over his shoulder, “Of course I don’t, I’ve got you!”

You’re trying to contain your blush all the way back to his car, wringing your hands in front of your body, twirling his car keys between your knuckles. You play with the fob attached, his name embroidered with his number and the school’s logo – a gift you bought for him a few months into the semester. He pulled you into his lap when he made out what it was, his hands cupped around your thighs as your knees settled on either side of his hips, gentle words parting his lips: “How is it you already know me so well?”

You are alone in the car for a good twenty minutes, and you pass the time by listening to the radio and scrolling through several of your social media accounts and checking your emails from various professors. Before you know it, he’s startling you when he opens the driver’s side door. You press your hand over your heart, eyes widening as he slips into the front seat, long legs slotting beneath the steering wheel.

Oikawa reaches across the console to press his palm to your thigh, squeezing the fleshiest expanse of skin gently, “Hey, pretty girl. What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Your palm finds his knuckles, a soft smile upturning your features at the gentleness of his mannerisms. Oikawa’s thumb brushes back and forth against the inner seam of your jeans, leaning his torso closer so he can nudge his nose against your cheek in a teasing motion. His smile can be felt against your skin, the corners of his lips upturned along your jawline.

“You.”

The answer is nothing short of truthful. He does not have to know in what capacity you’re thinking of him, only that you’ve given him the real reason as to why your brow is crinkled and your gaze is far-off rather than focused on him. Your heart twinges within your chest and your stomach grows sour the longer you think about those girls and what they had to say, how quickly they disregarded you.

“You’re adorable,” his mouth finds your cheek in a chaste kiss before he settles into the driver’s seat and shifts the car into reverse. Oikawa’s hand never leaves your thigh, pinned there by the immovable force of gravity, held in place by sheer will. Even as he orders at the drive-thru and maneuvers the car to the nearby park, his palm does not waver. It spreads a contagious heat, like a virus pricking at your veins, begging to be let in to devour you whole until you are nothing but a shell left behind by his affections.

Before you know it, the car is parked and Tooru is helping you out of your side of the vehicle. His hand is on yours and you almost stumble on your way to the meadow-like section of the boardwalk. You toe off your shoes and kick them to the side, sat in the grass as he straightens out a blanket he keeps in his car for times like these.

You are quiet as you nibble on your food, playing with the wrapper in between bites. Oikawa lets you stew in your own thoughts for a few minutes before he is breaking the silence, leaning his body into your personal space to shatter the box you’ve built around yourself.

“Is everything okay?” Oikawa’s hand is on your knee now, searing into your skin with the ridges of his fingertips, “You’ve been rather quiet since we left the gym.”

Immediately, your mind is thrown back to the scene you witness just before leaving. The group of girls all ganged up against you, sneering and snickering at your excitement at Oikawa’s success, as well as his affections towards you. Doubt crawls up your spine like a shadow, clutches it’s spiny claws into your shoulders and latches onto your skin, an itching starting that you know cannot be quelled with words alone.

“Wh-What did you think of those girls at the end of the game?”

You are taking a chance, stepping out onto a tightrope with no net underneath to catch you if you fall. Oikawa owes you nothing – there is no commitment, no promise that the two of you have made to one another. Is that not what the girls were saying? That you were not exclusive to one another, and therefore you have no claim to him.

The entirety of your body grows heavy as he speaks his next words, those golden brown eyes finding something off in the distance to focus on, “They were pretty, I guess. Not really my type, how about you?”

It is meant to be a joke, you think.

Oikawa is using his typical flat tone that he has to channel for when he is being overly sarcastic and must mask it before his façade falls into a fit of giggles. And still, the twitching of his lip, the telltale sign of his impending grin, does nothing to force your fear to the side. Rather, it multiplies at his false confession, building to a crescendo of acid within your belly, lapping at the innermost parts of you until you’re broken in the worst ways.

“Hey, I’m just teasing-”

A palm brushes your cheek but you are too numb to notice. Your eyes are lost, focused in on one blade of grass near your feet, trying to count the shades of green that reflect off the moonlight up above. The air surrounding you is like a balm, but you wish it were a salve; anything to help soothe the burning of your soul.

The charred ashes within your stomach start to suffocate you, floating up your esophagus until they burn the base of your throat and choke your tongue from the inside out. Tears simmer against your lashes and your face flushes with the threat of emotion taking over you like an apparition.

The feel of a knuckle against the underside of your chin, the fleshiest part, is what breaks you from your downward spiral, Oikawa’s voice quick to follow, “You can talk to me, you know.”

Your hands seek out his proximity, palms curling around his sweatshirt as the temptation to ask your questions sits on your tongue. The acid drips down the muscle to the back of your throat to meet the ashes, your jaw locked as you try to speak. Oikawa’s hand expands along your neck, thumb brushing against your jugular to coax the words from the base of your throat.

“Do you like me?”

A silence stretches between the two of you for a short moment before his fit of giggles breaks through it. Oikawa slots his hand into your hair and nuzzles your nose with his own, “Do you really think I would ask coach to break the jersey rules for me if I didn’t like you?”

You begin to babble, stuttering syllables crossing your lips as you try your best to defend yourself. Your hands go clammy and your tongue feels thick in your throat, eyes flitting across his face while you attempt to compose your emotions. Before you can force a full sentence from between your teeth, Oikawa has captured your lips in a kiss.

His mouth against yours melds your thoughts together until your mind is mush, unwilling and unable to create coherent thoughts. Your fingers shake against the fibers of his sweatshirt, shaking with the need to have him closer. He feels your desperation and smiles into the kiss, his own hands curling around your frame. He wants you closer now, as if the non-verbal confession has created something new between the two of you, a fresh bloom to admire and showcase.

As he pulls away, Tooru is still grinning, “I didn’t want to rush you, but I want you. Whatever that means for you. Relationship or not.”

“Relationship,” you are quick to answer, eager as you push yourself up on your knees, closer to his face. Your lips find his again, arms wound around his shoulders so you can be flush against his torso, fingertips brushing through his hair. He encourages you onto his lap, hands flat along your shoulders to steady you as you find your balance.

Oikawa’s nose nudges down your cheek and jaw, nipping kisses creating tiny red, aggravated marks against your skin that fade within moments of their origin, “You have nothing to be jealous of, princess. I promise.”

Your cheeks burn at his recall of your earlier admission, the insecurities eating away at your innards even through his affirmations. Oikawa licks his tongue along the column of your throat, forcing a shiver up your spine, and successfully redirecting your attention from your throttling thoughts to his warm mouth.

“If you still don’t believe me,” his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, eyes full of mirth as he gazes up at you through thick lashes, “then let me show you.”

---

not gonna lie..... this is NOT my favorite piece so if you made it this far thank you! if you’d like a second piece, one a little more spicy in nature, please let me know!!! or if you have any drabble/thirst requests i’d love to answer them!!!!!

bokuto is my next victim so be on the lookout for that! hopefully we’ll have lots more haikyuu posts in the future!

[kafka-ish]

the act of being a boy-friend | r.t.

y/n’s plan to make her crush, or ex crush, jealous backfires when she realizes she’s been the jealous one all along.

word count: 6.7k

warnings/included: fluff, losers aren’t friends anymore, fem!reader

a/n: i just rlly love writing love triangles hgeoigso also fake dating tropes ftw🥳

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“What’s ruh-ruh-wrong? Juh-juh-hust tell me what I can do, and I’ll ff-fix it.” Bill sat next to y/n on his worn sofa. The two were watching a movie but he couldn’t put a pin on what was wrong until he noticed y/n wasn’t making her usual commentary. y/n always talked whenever they got together to watch a movie—either letting her petty remarks be known to the rest of the viewers or judging the style choice. And if she wasn’t talking, her face was stuffed full of popcorn or sour candy.

But y/n wasn’t doing either of those things.

She sat in a ball—her bare feet on his couch and her kneecaps digging into her stomach. Her eyes were wide and focused on the screen ahead of them that blared ET. Her nails that were in tip-top condition when she first showed up to Bill’s house, neatly trimmed and polished with a layer of topcoat were now bitten to the bed, ragged and raw.

“Why would you think something’s wrong?” y/n said, surprised that she was able to even squeak out the words after zoning out for so long. Something was wrong. But it wasn’t like y/n would tell him. This is what she wanted, right? Just the two of them—Bill’s arm wrapped around her while she pressed into his side while the only light in the room came from his television set.

So why did everything feel so wrong?

Richie and y/n had dated two months prior. Well… ‘dated’. The relationship wasn’t real, but the butterflies whenever Richie called her a dumb pet name or kissed her on the cheek (because kissing on the lips was too far) certainly felt real. And the heartbreak that came from him talking about other girls felt more real than the time y/n got stood up at the eighth-grade dance.

“I don’t wanna be your fuckin’ boyfriend,” Richie protested. His mouth was full of the turkey club sandwich he snagged from a detention buddy and his perfectly straight nose was now scrunched in disgust at the absurd idea his friend had to offer.

“I don’t get why you’re being so pissy about this.” y/n took the sandwich from him, taking a bite of her own and cringing at the taste of mustard that was hidden under the lettuce.

“Grow up.” Richie laughed at y/n who was using a napkin to wipe the tangy aftertaste off her tongue. “You know.” He took another bite. “This sorta shit never ends well.”

“What shit?” y/n prodded. She was still hooked on the idea of getting Richie to play house with her.

“The game where you and I pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend and eventually one of us falls for each other.” Richie was taking an oddly rational approach to y/n’s suggestion. But Richie was logical in a sense where he just knew.

“Who says I’d fall for you?” y/n poked at his shoulder. One of her eyebrows raised because in what world would she let herself catch feelings for Richie Tozier?

In this world. In this lifetime, y/n would let herself fall for one of her best friends, only to be dating her longtime crush.

“How could you not?” Richie smirked but y/n could tell he was just joking. “I’m irresistible, love.” His stupid British-man Voice made yet another appearance and y/n had to refrain from hitting him.

“What about me?” y/n didn’t care whether or not Richie found her attractive, but to say his response never left her mind after that day would be an understatement.

“Well, just look at you.” Richie put the sandwich down. “If it’s anyone, I’ll be having a harder time.”

“So does that mean you’ll go through with it?” A new light hit y/n’s eyes; the sparkle almost blinding Richie who was shaking his head.

“I don’t get why you’re so hung up about this.” He sighed. y/n could tell he was getting annoyed, but y/n was also persistent. If she wanted something, she’d get it; careless about the lengths she’d have to go through for her fantasies to become a truth. Her truth.

“I’m just saying there are benefits for both of us.” y/n’s head tilted to the side, trying to get a better glimpse at Richie now gnawing at his lunch like an animal.

“Benefits?” Richie asked mid-bite.

“Yeah. I can make Bill Denbrough jealous and he’ll fall madly in love with me. Same for you and your ex.”

“Bill Denbrough?” Richie ignored the mention of his ex-girlfriend. He was fifty-percent sure he was already over her, but the other fifty percent of him still stole glances in her direction and kept a copy of her school picture in his wallet. But Bill Denbrough? y/n had a crush on the Bill Denbrough? Richie had to take a moment for his ears to adjust to this staggering news.

Bill Denbrough was a baseball player and Richie’s old childhood friend. Him, Bill, Stan Uris (who was coincidentally also on Derry’s baseball team), Mike Hanlon (who didn’t play baseball but football), Ben Hanscom (he was on the track team), Eddie Kaspbrak, and Beverly Marsh were all a group back in middle school. And Bill and Richie went way back—back to elementary school. It was until the end of freshman year when Stan tried out for baseball (Bill tagged along but made the team anyway) and Mike brought up how he wanted to go out for football next year.

Everyone’s interests started to diverge. Everyone started to diverge. They still went to Mike’s games at the beginning of their sophomore year, but their lunches together only seemed to happen on Wednesday and their afternoon hangouts at the quarry turned into just Richie smoking puffs on the edge; the only company being his portable radio.

Richie befriended y/n sophomore year, around the same time he and his friends fizzed out in January’s crisp air. He met her in his new art class when Derry High released students’ new schedules for the second semester. They’d stayed friends ever since; sharing their lunches and staying after school to finish up on a Social Studies project that wasn’t worth the grade they received. y/n was the one to comfort Richie after his breakup with Vanessa Jennings, but this was the first Richie had ever heard of y/n’s crush on Bill. He didn’t even know she knew Bill.

“You like Bill Denbrough?”

y/n nodded. “So, what do you say? Partner…”

Richie gave in. Although it wasn’t in his interest to get back with Vanessa, he’d still go along with y/n’s scheme.

He’d pick her up at her house before school at seven o’clock sharp—whether it was in his dad’s old Chevy or by foot in his red Converse.

y/n rushed to her front door as soon as she heard a ring. Her hair was half done, and she hadn’t had enough time to do her makeup yet. Luckily, she was already dressed in her school clothes—the denim of her jeans scuffing together when she walked, and her red blouse having to be pulled down every time she rose her arms.

“Morning, sugar.” Richie’s lazy grin and tired eyes never failed to bring a smile on her face even before they started ‘dating’. His hair wasn’t brushed at all, making y/n feel better about her appearance. His body leaned slanted against the doorframe while he waited for her and the white tip of his Converse made its attempt to dig into the porch.

“Sugar?” y/n asked, bemused. She grabbed her keys from the table next to the door, using them to lock the door behind her.

“You look different today.” y/n’s head raised from its once concentrated position from the lock on her door.

“Different how?” She inquired, mostly wondering if this difference was a good or bad thing.

“You look good.” y/n’s cheeks couldn’t help but heat at the compliment. Richie was always calling her cutesy names or saying shit like actually, now that my glasses are on, your ass does look good in those jeans. This should be no different, right?

It only felt different because they were… an item is what y/n convinced herself somewhere along the drive to school. Richie opened the door for her when she got in (and out), but in return, she’d have to let him play his favorite station.

“it’s only courtesy, babe.” Richie shrugged but his eyes kept on the road. “I scratch your back, you scratch mine.”

But two weeks in, y/n found out she liked what this rock ‘n roll guy had to offer. She liked the loud beat of the drum and how the guitar sang in her ears. She liked Richie’s voice that overpowered Elvis’s when he sang along to the lyrics, knowing every word by heart.

“I don’t get why you’re taking me anywhere,” y/n said. She sat in the passenger’s seat of his car like she usually did. “We don’t have to pretend unless we’re, like, in public.” Her voice became small, almost regretting the words that came out of her mouth. Secretly, she hoped Richie wouldn’t turn the 1965 Chevrolet Camaro around.

“It’s not like we aren’t friends.” Richie’s thumb made a tap, tap, tapping sound against the steering wheel. “Friends hang out, right?”

y/n smiled but didn’t answer. It never occurred to her that they weren’t dating. After a while, it just seemed so natural; the hand holding under lunch tables; the way he held her binder for her.

“Is that heavy, sweetheart?” Richie stood next to y/n, intently watching as she struggled with her books in one arm: her other hand turning the combination lock. His gaze never left her figure. He was thoughtful, caring…

“Kind of, but you don’t need to—”

Ignoring y/n, Richie took the books from her hold. He already had books of his own to carry, but he couldn’t let his girlfriend struggle with hers.

“Yeah… friends.” y/n couldn’t seem to face him while uttering the words. Friends. The declaration felt so distant. After all, they had been more than friends—or pretending to be more than friends. But at the end of the day, y/n didn’t know if she wanted to be just friends with Richie Tozier. That was new considering, she never saw Richie as something else. Something that greeted her with flowers before school and held open the door for her. Not until now, no. Richie was always… Richie.

Richie Tozier who was always caught doing his homework last minute in art—because that’s the easiest class, babe. Richie Tozier who liked detention because he could catch up on a few extra minutes of lost beauty sleep. Richie Tozier who stopped bringing his lunch to school because you’re the only sugar I need.

y/n rolled the window down, letting a breeze sweep through her hair and tickle her skin. She needed a distraction because the recent epiphany of the boy next to her being the reason for her heart palpitations was something to need a distraction from.

The sky bled orange and purple—the colors perfectly melted into one another—and y/n wondered if this wasn’t their world after all. Maybe they were being controlled and the puppeteer behind her was playing some sick joke by making her catch feelings for Richie Tozier. y/n didn’t even notice they came to a stop until the click of Richie’s seatbelt grabbed her ears from their trance.

“You comin’?” Richie asked from outside of her side of the car. He was hunched down, his forearm resting on the door to help prop him up.

“Yeah.” y/n swallowed but it hurt. It felt like acid ripped through her esophagus but the only thing she had to drink that day was water. She reached for the door handle, but Richie was faster, already opening the door himself. “Such a gentleman,” y/n snickered.

“Of course.” Richie stayed behind to lock the doors.

“So, you drove me, just a friend, all the way out to the best milkshakes in town?” y/n asked, eyeing the neon-lit sign that read

 Hwy 90

The highway to your stomach.

They served other things, but they specialized in milkshakes—something neither Richie nor y/n would care to pass up. But nothing y/n would drive thirty minutes for just for some glorified ice cream in a glass.

“It’s the least I could do.” Richie opened the door for y/n once again. The entrance door to the diner made a jingling sound as the top corner hit the bells which hung from the ceiling.

“The least you could do?” y/n wondered aloud, but Richie wasn’t given the chance to answer her question when a waitress scurried up to them, a stack of menus in one arm and a bundle of silverware in the other. She was taller than y/n but shorter than Richie and she wore black and white bowling shoes to match the wide-legged jeans and polo underneath her apron. “Is it just you two?” She asked sweetly, hiking the pile of menus up higher on her arm.

“Yeah,” Richie said. He stuffed his hands in his back pocket, not knowing where to put them.

The waitress showed them to a small booth that sat in the corner of the brightly lit restaurant. It was too bright for y/n’s eyes under the red, blue, and pink hues that reflected across the shiny white tile, But the corner table the girl had brought them to would do. There was a certain coziness to it, or maybe it was the thought of sitting so close to Richie in a public setting that settled y/n’s eyes.

“I’m Annie. I’ll be your server today,” the girl said as soon as Richie and y/n slid into their respective sides of the red pleather seats. She was fast-talking and all shades of nervousness as her left hand went to grab the number two pencil that fastened the blonde curls that were pinned in a knot on top of her head. “Can I get you anything?”

“A menu would be nice,” y/n said. In front of them sat a table, salt and pepper shakers, and a half-empty Heinz ketchup bottle. Annie had forgotten to give the two a menu.

“My apologies!” She exclaimed, bashful. She handed them each a menu to sift through.

“Don’t sweat it.” Richie winked in her direction and y/n felt herself grow… what was that? Anger? Annie’s pale skin blushed a bright red and y/n could tell it wasn’t the apron making her feel hot.

It took Richie a full-fledged thirty seconds and two skims through the laminated paper for him to decide what he wanted, and it took y/n at least two minutes. “I’ll have a Cookies n Cream. Extra sweet.” Just like you.

y/n was biting her thumb and still reading over the same three flavors that caught her eye while Annie stood patiently waiting for her response. Richie was messing with the saltshaker. His leg found hers under the table and gave it a quick kick.

“Ouch.” She looked up from the menu, averting her attention to the boy in front of her with a fix glare. “Can I have Vanilla? With a cherry on top?”

Annie scribbled down both of their orders in messy writing before making her way across the floor and to the kitchen.

“Vanilla?” Richie laughed and y/n didn’t know what was so funny. “’Cause you’re vanilla?” He covered his mouth with his hand before another fit of laughter would consume the table.

“Shut up.” Swiftly, y/n’s leg propelled into his which caused Richie’s laughs to die down, replaced by a single yelp.

“So…” Richie’s eyebrows wiggled. His nails, which were painted a shade of deep blue by y/n and already chipped, thumped against the surface of the table. y/n could tell whatever he was beginning to suggest wouldn’t be something she liked just from the tone of his voice.

“So?”

“Why Bill?” Oh.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She knew exactly what he meant.

“Why do you like ole Big Bill?” The nickname had slipped out unconsciously. The nickname Richie hadn’t heard in years. The nickname Richie hadn’t said in years. It felt exotic on his lips, but comforting, like a hug from his mom.

Why did she like Bill? y/n asked herself silently. She was gnawing on the inside of her cheek when the question popped up again and the sound of Bill’s voice startled her.

“What’s ruh-ruh-wrong? Juh-juh-hust tell me what I can do, and I’ll ff-fix it.” What was wrong? Seemingly, everything was perfect. The boy y/n had been crushing on for years was finally in her reach—her grasp, even. Bill’s head turned to face y/n, but his arm stayed tightly coiled around her side. It wasn’t the same as Richie’s possessive hold from two months ago. His hand that played with the fabric of her shirt felt cold. Bill felt cold.

It couldn’t be that she missed Richie, no. Richie was busy—probably swapping spit with one Vanessa Jennings. Vanessa with the light brown hair and curls that framed her not-too-big head ever so perfectly. Vanessa who never needed a tan. Vanessa with the long legs that were probably wrapped—

But it didn’t matter. y/n was busy, too. The Bill Denbrough was at her side and she couldn’t have asked for anything else. She didn’t need anything else. Not when his red flannel hugged her torso because are you could? My parents won’t let me turn up the heat, but I can offer you this. Like a gentleman, he proceeded to strip the flannel from his bodice, leaving him in a white baseball tee.

“Why would you think something’s wrong?” y/n looked at Bill then looked down to see the nails she had just painted were now ruined. She looked up again. “Nothing’s wrong,” she assured, not all convincingly.

“You just… yo-you ha-haven’t-t s-s-said anything since you cuh-cuh-walked in.”

“I haven’t?” y/n asked, now picking at the tip of her thumb, hoping what had taken two weeks to grow out would magically regrow in seconds. Saving his voice, Bill only shook his head.

“You nuh-know you can tuh-tell me. Ruh-right?” y/n nodded but what could she tell him?

Sorry I’ve been holding a massive crush on you for years like one holds a cleaver over their head but all of a sudden I’m into this guy I met in my art class who never brushes his hair and writes ‘smoking and smoking hot’ on his college resume.

“I think I’m just tired,” she lied while also feigning a yawn. She covered her mouth when it opened, pretending to be sleepy.

“Do-do you want me to tuh-take you home?” Bill asked. He was just as thoughtful as Richie. He was just as handsome as Richie, maybe even more. So why couldn’t y/n bring herself to like him as much as Richie? His arm left from her side and he used it to pick up the remote, turning the tv off. The worst part was, that when Bill’s hand stopped playing with the fabric of the flannel she wore and his arm left her frame, she didn’t feel a coldness that would usually wash over her when Richie’s arm left her. She felt free.

“I don’t want our afternoon to be spoiled,” y/n said. Her eyebrows furrowed and even though she knew she was lying through her teeth, she wanted to make this work. After all these years of pining for her study partner and favorite Derry High baseball player, she needed for this to work. To see the vision she’d created in her head, just a mere two years ago, collapse in front of her very eyes broke her. But at the same time, she was indifferent. Why should she care about the boy in front of her when the boy she actually wanted was a neighborhood away?

“Tr-trust me. It-it’s not.” Bill shrugged. He stood up and offered y/n his hand which she didn’t take. Instead, she sat there, planted in her same seat, waiting for him to continue. “I can tuh-take you home. And wuh-we can hang out to-tomorrow. You nuh-know when you’re well rested.” All of the sudden, this felt very real. Hanging out with Bill felt real. Being at his house felt real. And though his efforts were valiant, y/n couldn’t accept the offer.

A smile graced her lips and Bill mirrored that. “Yeah, okay. Uh, take me home—please.”

y/n stood up and Bill guided her to the door and to Zach Denbrough’s car as if she hadn’t had the place memorized from when she first came over for a History project they’d been assigned to do.

What did she ever see in him?

“I don’t know.” y/n’s shoulders bopped up and down and even though her figure was hunched, Richie still thought she looked graceful.

“Are you just sayin’ that or did you end up falling in love with little ole me and you can’t think of anything?” Just then, their milkshakes arrived. Both in frosted glass and both with a cherry on top. A feeling of relief swallowed the lump in her throat, or maybe that was the taste of vanilla ice cream now that she was given some time, and a reason, to stall. y/n hated how on-the-nose Richie could be. But she also loved that about him. He could be so, so unexpectedly smart about some things. Things that were right in front of her that she’d never even notice until Richie pointed it out. “Oh, come on.” Richie’s words would’ve sliced through the silence in the air if it weren’t for the chatter of other people and jukebox playing in the background. “Seriously, y/n/n, there’s gotta be something that drew you to him.”

“Well… he’s nice.”

“Okay cut the crap.”

“What?” y/n asked, finding herself annoyed that she not only had to reveal her feelings to a boy she may or may not like but also because he’s nice apparently wasn’t a sufficient enough answer.

“I need an actual answer. Not some bullshit response like he’s nice or he’s funny. Anyone can be nice or funny, y/n.”

“Well, whether you like it or not, Bill is nice. He’s genuine, and cares about the people around him… Selfless.”

Richie was upset at her response. Not because y/n countered his argument in a way he was left speechless but because she was right. Bill was the nice guy and Richie… wasn’t. Bill was the one who looked out for others, making sure they were okay. He was the one who made sure no one got left behind. He was the one everyone looked up to—not Richie, Bill. It was always Bill. Whereas Richie’s just the guy who stands in the background making funny noises only to be told to shut up.

“Yeah… Bill is nice.”

“Don’t tell me you’re my competition, Tozier.” y/n laughed at the oddity of fighting with Richie for the chance to be with Bill.

“Nah,” Richie shook his head, his hair flying in any direction possible. “You’re lucky I’m not, though. You wouldn’t have the chance, babe.”

y/n wanted to eat her heart out at the usage of babe in such an informal setting where they didn’t have to pretend, but the maraschino cherry resting on top of the pile of whipped cream would suffice. “Do you still like Vanessa?” The words tumbled from y/n’s mouth like they were nothing. But embarrassment replaced the blood flowing through her veins once she was aware of what she just said.

“It’s… complicated,” Richie said honestly, not caring that y/n might’ve crossed boundaries just then.

“What’s complicated?” y/n cocked her head like a puppy questioning why its master was making weird hand motions.

“You’ll understand when you’re older, kid.” Richie didn’t mean to come off as condescending, but he did.

“I’m the same age as you.” y/n crossed her arms after pushing away the half-empty, frosted glass in front of her.

Ignoring the red straw in his drink, Richie brought the edge of the glass to his lips and swallowed the thick shake. “Here’s the thing. Vanessa and I go way back.”

“How far is way back if you only dated her for four months?” y/n regretted even bringing her up. Maybe it was different back then, back when the two were actually dating. But now, y/n couldn’t remember a time when someone said the name ‘Richie Tozier’ and her heart didn’t feel like it would explode into a collision of fireworks.

“Four and a half,” Richie corrected with a grin breaking out on his lips. “But I dunno. She’s just special.”

“Special as in…?” y/n probed, and she hated herself for her big mouth that wouldn’t stop applying lemon juice to an obviously open wound.

“I love her.” Richie took another drink of Cookies n Cream, which was more cream than cookies, and y/n sat there in shock. She would be silly to think that after all these weeks, Richie would feel the same way about her. After all, he had a life outside of the fake one they’d construed. Or maybe Richie was just less emotionally confined to these sorts of things. He knew better than to get caught up in a fake relationship. Of course he would.

But knowing Richie still loved his ex, struck something in y/n’s core. And the fact that he was able to say it in such a nonchalant manner—such casualty—only dug deeper at the pit in her stomach.

“You love her?” y/n asked, her mouth still full of the sweet treat he’d pay for later in the evening.

“Love. Loved.” Richie shrugged like this was nothing—well, maybe this was nothing. Maybe y/n was the speck of dust on his shirt and him shrugging was the last of her existence from his being leaving. “What’s the difference?”

“There’s a big difference.” y/n wanted to scream. Luckily, she had enough self-perseverance to keep her composure. She swallowed. “One is past tense, and one is present tense.”

“How ‘bout I put it this way.” Richie set aside his drink so now nothing was blocking his view of y/n. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table. “I don’t like…” He paused. Revealing that he had no intention in getting back with his once first love would possibly wreck this whole thing. “If Vanessa asked, I’d probably get back with her,” Richie finally said, thinking that must’ve been a suitable way to word the jumble of letters floating around in his head like alphabet soup.

“You would?” y/n asked, feeling like a little kid all over again.

Richie didn’t say anything.

“Do you and her still…”

“Still what?”

“Talk, I guess is what I’m trying to say.” y/n messed with her fingers, pulling at a hangnail she’d know she’d regret doing when it got to later in the night.

“Nah. But don’t worry about it, sweets.” Richie took out his wallet only to be met with a picture of the dreaded girl they’d just been talking about. He gulped. His spit tasted like Oreos and he knew he’d have a stomachache later. Richie thumbed out a ten-dollar bill and five ones to keep Alexander Hamilton company. “Ole Vanessa could never get in the way of you if that’s what you’re wonderin’.”

It was what she was wondering.

But she’d never let Richie know that. y/n crossed her arms tighter around her torso because right now it felt like Richie could see right through her.

Richie drove her home in the same way Bill would a month from that night. But Richie had a better taste in music and y/n was actually sad to part from him when he left her at her doorstep.

“I’m really sorry I had to cut our time short,” y/n said. She was sorry.

“It’s ff-fine. I al-already sai—”

“Yeah, but I feel awful, Bill.” y/n finally mucked up the courage to look him in the eye. Those blue eyes that’d been searching for hers all afternoon. “This was probably like… the worst first date in the history of first dates.”

“Ih-it’s not so bad. But that duh-depends on how muh-many first dates you’ve been on.” Bill laughed and y/n was trying to figure out what was funny about what he said.

“You’ve been on worse ones?” y/n asked anxiously.

“Luh-let’s just say th-they duh-didn’t get a second date.”

y/n nodded while her hands started to search for the keys in her purse.

“I’ll ss-see you tuh-tomorrow?”

“Or at my funeral. Whichever comes first.” For a moment, the bad thoughts cleared from the surface of y/n��s head. Laughter was the only thing she was aware of for a moment.

“Bye, y/n/n.”

“Bye, Richie,” y/n said bashfully. Her hands were strewn behind her back because she didn’t know what they would do if they weren’t. He was about to walk off—off into the moonlight. And y/n would have to wait until Monday to see him again. It was one day too long because she knew even though the two of them had nothing better to do tomorrow, he’d see it as just friends whereas y/n would see it… differently. “Richie, wait!”

“What?” Richie turned around. His hands sat inside of his front pockets and his posture was slumped, as always.

“Thanks… for tonight.” Richie nodded, and validation from him served as a sick kind of ego booster that egged y/n to keep going. “They really are the best milkshakes in town.”

“Yeah.” Richie’s scratchy voice soothed y/n under the frosty air that came from winters in Maine. y/n stepped closer, her hands still behind her back.

“Did you have a good time?”

“You know I always have a good time when I’m with you.” Richie nudged y/n’s elbow with his but was taken aback by her hands that now gripped his shoulders and how suddenly close she was against him.

y/n kissed him on the cheek, not daring to go for his lips because who’s ever heard of a kiss goodbye on the cheek? Is probably what Stacy Howards would retort back to her after she’d spill the happenings of Saturday night to Derry High’s favorite cheerleader in study hall.

His cheek tasted like salt and Irish Spring—that is, if she knew what Irish Spring tasted like. Which she definitely didn’t.

She didn’t linger long. Richie wished she stayed longer. The kiss was short and sweet and the taste of vanilla on her lips replaced a fraction of his cheek that tasted like body wash and sodium chloride.

“Goodnight,” y/n said, now finally coming to her senses.

“Ye-yeah.” Richie blinked, an alternative to pinching himself in front of the girl he’d been pretending to date. “Night.” But after pretending for so long, Richie couldn’t help but notice the less it felt like pretending.

y/n closed the door behind her with a slam, making sure to lock it in case intruders were in the neighborhood. Now that Bill was gone, her first instinct was to call up Richie—tell him that the date went well, and how he was such a great friend, and thanks for the help. But there were only so many times she could lie to a boy she felt feelings so deeply for. The first, coincidentally, was when Richie had asked how things were going with Bill.

“Make any progress so far?” Richie asked with a face full of ham. They were eating lunch together, per usual. But this time, unlike the many times before, the hand that wasn’t holding his sandwich was rubbing circles on y/n’s small hand that Richie’s swallowed.

“Comme ci comme ça.” y/n smiled to herself at her basic understanding any French One student would master. “It’s going alright…” y/n had never been a natural liar. Whenever she told her parents she had cleaned her room when she, in fact, didn’t, the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and her forearm broke out in an itch she could never quite scratch. But her internal biological workings had given her a break today. There was no itch and her hairs stayed in place from when she styled her hair that morning.

“What’s alright?” Richie questioned, though it sounded more like an interrogation.

“He started talking to me more.”

“He didn’t already talk to you?” Richie’s eyebrow rose because how were you supposed to fall for a guy you barely talked to?

“Well, yeah, he talks to me.” The pad of Richie’s thumb that was drawing slow circles onto y/n’s knuckles turned into lines. Back and forth. Back and forth. “But he used to talk to me about classwork and… you know, like, school.” Richie smiled when she talked. He was happy for his friend. He truly was. But he couldn’t stand the fact that the guy she was talking about wasn’t him—let alone, his former best friend. “And in APUSH, instead of asking about my grade or whatever, he… asked about me.”

“What’d Mister Charming have to say?”

Mister Charming sat two seats away from y/n. But that didn’t stop him from talking to her. Every now and then, Bill would steal glances at the girl from his peripheral vision. Sometimes, if he were feeling bold, he’d turn to face her—but that action only occurred when she was speaking. Today, however, was different. Today he’d talk to her.

Lucky for Bill, the pencil sharpener sat in the back of class—close to where y/n’s seat was.

“Hey.”

y/n looked up from her textbook. She didn’t want to assume the hushed voice was for her—but she had to figure the tap on her shoulder was.

“Hi.” She set her pencil down and folded her arms flat on the desk. “What’s up?” y/n swore she sounded insane. Who says what’s up—

“Th-the sky.” Bill’s smile made cloudy days seem cloudless. “I was wuh-wondering ih—” He swallowed the trail of saliva that gathered in the back of his throat. “If… are yo-you and Ruh-Richie like…”

“No!” y/n said quickly and a little too loudly.

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Muh-maybe we cuh-could hang out… This Saturday work?” A stroke of nervousness flitted across his features for a second even though Bill didn’t have anything to be nervous about. The rest of y/n’s words got caught in her throat and she instinctively found herself writing down her number on the scratch piece of paper Mr. Ferguson passed out for notetaking.

“Call me.”

Bill did call. Which was precisely how y/n was stuck frozen in time; her back slanted against the door and her thoughts racing against one another.

She had two options at hand. Call Richie. Find Richie. Or wait it out for tomorrow when Bill’s same car would be in her driveway, waiting for her.

But a third option was already at y/n’s doorstep, contemplating ringing the doorbell.

Richie Tozier stood outside of y/n’s front door, palms sweaty and unusually anxious for confrontation. His pale fingers knotted together. It was their way of stalling from interacting with y/n for as long as possible—or as long as curfew would allow him to.

“Hey.” His stalling attempt was left unsuccessful when y/n opened the door. Ironically, he was just the person she had hoped to run into. “What are… what are you doing?”

“Me?” Richie’s eyebrows stitched together, and he pointed to himself with his index finger.

“You’re the only one here,” y/n deadpanned.

“I was just in the neighborhood, y’know. Doin’ neighborly things.”

“You don’t live in this neighborhood.” Richie feigned laughter but this time y/n didn’t laugh with him. “Seriously, Rich, why are you here? You knew I had my date with Bill and—”

“And what?” His tone grew firm, like it had grabbed her by the hand and urged whatever was eating at her insides out of her.

“And I don’t think you should be here, after I just got done with my date with somebody else!” y/n said with a shaky breath. She could feel her heartbeat almost burning through her chest that rose and fell harshly.

“How was it? Your date?” Richie had calmed down, but y/n didn’t.

“It went bad. Is that what you wanted to hear?” y/n muttered, but it could’ve been mistaken for a yell.

“No, why would you think—hold on. What’s up with you?” Richie’s hands stuffed themselves in his front pocket. His posture was hunched over, and his face now screwed together, trying to understand the girl standing before him.

“I don’t know.” The flame that had once ignited y/n’s lively spirits had died down. “I just. It didn’t go well, that’s all,” y/n said, unable to coax the words she actually wanted to say out of her lips.

“He wasn’t an asshole, was he?” Richie’s tone was protective—nothing y/n would expect from him two months ago when she’d gotten themselves into this mess.

“No! No.” y/n was complicated. First, she’d spew off about how her date was bad and now she was defending said date?

“God, y/n/n, can you just make up your mind?”

She could do that.

“You were right,” y/n declared.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, but Richie could still make out what she was saying.

“Well, I’m always right, toots. I just need context—”

“About the fake dating thing. How eventually one person’s bound to fall for the other…” Her toes curled from under the white Converse she hadn’t had time to slip off. They were worn and the bottoms were yellowing from the number of times she’d matched them to an outfit. “And you don’t look like you’re on your knees, so.”

“So, what?” y/n didn’t notice the smirk edging on the corners of Richie’s lips.

“Tozier, don’t make me say it.”

“You have to, or God knows how long we’ll be standing on this fuckin’ porch,” Richie said patiently. Patient. Richie was never patient—always the one to urge his friends to hurry the fuck up, always the one to ask are we there yet? But this time he was. His figure stood still and ominous, like Santa on Christmas Eve. His breathing held steady in his lungs that had seen more smoke than his mother’s kitchen and his feet stood planted on the concrete stoop of y/n’s house and they’d stay there until she told him the very damned thing she didn’t want to.

“I like you, okay?” y/n knew if she blinked, the dam of tears in her eyes would finally burst and the last thing she wanted was having Richie Tozier see her cry. Well, second to last thing. The first thing on that list had already happened. “Look, I know you’re still in love with Van-Vanessa.” It hurt to say the girl’s name because she wasn’t just a girl, she was Richie’s ex. “But you asked me to say it and I did. So there.”

y/n was about to turn back. Back into her house and back out of this friendship. It was only because Richie laughed that y/n stopped. His chuckle was like music, not the kind that Richie blasted in his car with the windows down, but like a symphony. And if y/n were any less mortified right now, maybe she’d stop to admire it—him—for one second more.

She was about to ask why. Why are you mocking me when I’m so clearly in a vulnerable state right now? Why are you mocking me after I’d just shared something so deep and personal with the likes of you? About the likes of you? But y/n didn’t get the chance when Richie surged forward and pressed a kiss against her lips. She could feel her heart pick up even more at the taste of him: spearmint and tobacco. She thought it’d stabilize itself once his lips left hers, but it didn’t. His taste lingered and at the time it felt permanent, like a red stain on white furniture.

“Like I said. Ole Vanessa could never get in the way of you.” His breath hit her face, warm and intoxicating, and y/n could only think that kissing Richie on the lips was way better than kissing him on the cheek.

[gemma-lemma]

Flaming Hearts - A Nalu Fanfiction

Chapter One

“Yes, yes, exactly like that, Miss Lucy. Perfect!” The photographer cheered, changing his own position with every picture he took. Lucy was currently in a studio, white linen behind her and giant lights in front of her to cast the perfect scenery for the beautiful dress she was displaying: a dark red one, that was bound in a chokehold around her neck and had a high slit on each thigh. She wore high heels in the exact same shade of red and translucent white gloves that reached up to her upper arms, but no jewellery. The photographer had decided that Lucy’s own beauty was already splendid enough. She had just giggled and told him to stop making her blush.

“And now put a hand on your hip! Pout! Smile! Squat down! Perfect, Miss Lucy. You are fantastic!”

She might have looked good, but Lucy still felt like she was a mannequin in a showcase. She didn’t really like the photo shootings for all the magazines, though she enjoyed wearing the new dresses. She would much rather have met her friends for a cup of tea or simply read a book today, since it was Sunday, but her father had insisted on her to go. He said it was good for publicity, and Lucy knew that every time he spoke of publicity any fight from her side was useless.

Jude Heartfilia was a businessman, after all. As the head of the great Heartfilia Konzern, a company that produced and distributed all kinds of chemical products, from medicine over skin care to make up, he had little time for his family, which in this place consisted of just Lucy. Her mother had died years before, and Lucy just couldn’t shake the feeling that her death was part of the reason why her father avoided her company so much and would rather work every waking minute. After all, she looked exactly like her mother Layla. Same big brown eyes, glowing blonde hair, curvy figure. It was genetics, really, though Lucy made sure to support those lucky genes with a healthy diet and lots of exercise.

»One last dress, Miss Lucy. We’re almost done.” The photographer announced and she went back to her room to get changed. That was part of the deal they had made. Lucy stood model for the dresses, but she would still get her privacy while getting changed. She had never liked to get changed in front of others, not even the maids who would help her into the complicated dresses for her father’s parties, so it was a relief that she could do it by herself here.

The new dress was of a light rosé colour, with a heart shaped décolleté and reaching down to her shins. The bodice was tight around her chest until her waist, and changed then to a flowing skirt embroidered with beautiful flowers and butterflies. It was more comfortable than the red one, though the high heeled sandals that came with it were anything but that.

“I’m ready.” She called, and a girl entered to change her make up from the darker tones for the red dress to lighter ones that suited the light one. She also changed her hair into a half-up-half-down style and curled the flowing locks with a curling iron.

“Here you go, beautiful as always.” The girl smiled, and Lucy smiled back. The last dress took the longest to photograph, probably because it suited her the best, much to her dismay. She had been sick of modelling already when they were only at the second dress.

When the shooting was finally over, and Lucy had changed back into her own black shirt and red skirt, combined with a pair of black over knees and a red purse, the photographer held her up one last time, shaking her hand enthusiastically.

“Thank you so much for coming today, Miss Lucy. I’m really looking forward to the article The Sorcerer Weekly will write. Hopefully, we will have once again the pleasure of working together!” He chattered cheerfully, but even though Lucy gave him a nod and a polite smile, she couldn’t share his enthusiasm. The Sorcerer Weekly might have been a big number regarding celebrities and business people, but when it came to women their portraits were rather sexist. They wrote about their skin care routines or what their secrets for their perfect bodies were, which wasn’t a wrong thing to do, but still quite annoying when it was the only thing they wrote about women when at the same time they asked men about the secrets to their success or what they would recommend young businesspeople to boost their own businesses.

Photoshoots like that always drained her and she couldn’t quite comprehend what could be so interesting about her showing off dresses she would never wear again. She had a great body, so what? So had countless other women. It wasn’t even an achievement, just lucky genetics. That was what she disliked the most, wasn’t it? Everyone cared for her beauty and her seemingly perfect body, but nobody really acknowledged her brains. Lucy was smart. She loved to read, and she studied astronomy for fun alongside physics and chemistry, which she needed to take over the company one day. Many of her teachers had said that her intelligence was way above the average, and she quite prided herself in that. It bothered her that all those magazines and talk shows only cared about her looks and whether she had already found a husband or not. She wasn’t even looking for a husband, and would much rather spend another few years realizing herself, but she was well aware of her role as an idol. And she didn’t like the fact that all those young girls only ever got to see her beauty, but never once heard a word of her intelligence. She would love to show them how important it was to cultivate one’s intellect or to care about one’s grades rather than their looks.

“Miss Lucy, are you ready to leave?” The driver asked politely, shaking Lucy out of her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized that she was already standing by the edge of the street, in front of the car door he held open for her. She nodded and gave him a small smile, before she entered.

Once the car started, she decided to check her phone, feeling a little lighter at the sight of the messages her friends had sent during her shooting in their group chat Fairy Tail. She didn’t even remember how they had found such a strange name, but she didn’t really mind. It sounded funny, and thoughtless, and so unlike everything else in her life.

 Levy: sent a picture

Levy: Hey Ladies, what do you think of that? It’s a party thrown by Sting Eucliffe, this super-hot singer I was telling you about. It’s this weekend, and the perfect opportunity for a girl’s night out.

 Upon further inspection the picture Levy had sent was, in fact, a flyer, held in silver, blue and purple tones and with a picture of Sting Eucliffe himself up front, showing a wide smile and finger guns. On it there were written his name, the date, and the location.

 Juvia: Yes! I’d love to come! I even heard he’s single!

Erza: Isn’t that that blonde twink who only recently left Sabertooth to become a solo artist? What a snob.

Levy: Yes, exactly. Except, he’s not a twink, Erza! He sings really good, and not even you can deny that he’s good-looking.

Juvia: He has a voice like an angel, you uncultured strawberry!

 Lucy let out a chuckle before replying. The bickering of her friends always eased her tight nerves a bit.

 Lucy: I’d love to come, but I’m afraid my father won’t let me… He doesn’t like such events.

Erza: Then we’ll sneak you out, like we did before.

Levy: Of course! We can’t go without you, Lu!

Juvia: And we’ll dress you up again, so that nobody recognizes you. You still got the wig, don’t you?

Lucy: Of course I still got the wig, you guys gifted it to me. I would never throw that away!

Levy: Naww, you’re so cute!

Lucy: But do you think that will be enough to hide me from the paparazzi?

Erza: Of course, and if anything happens, we will cover for you to run away.

Juvia: Yes!

Lucy: Thanks, guys! This means the world to me!

 Smiling, she put her phone away. They were already driving up the lane that led to her estate.

When the car halted, a maid was already there to open the car door for Lucy, and she gave her a gratuitous smile, before climbing up the steps to where another maid, Leto, was waiting.

“Welcome home, Miss Lucy. How was your photoshoot?” She smiled politely and made a small bow.

“I’m glad to see you too, Leto. The photoshoot was alright, I guess. The photographer was very enthusiastic.” Lucy answered with just the same polite smile, though it seemed a little tired.

“Aren’t they always?” Leto said warmly, and Lucy nodded in agreement. They were, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of her name or if they acted like this around any kind of celebrity.

“Seems so.”

“Mr Heartfilia is in his study. He wanted you to join him there as soon as you came back from your photoshoot.”

“Did he say why?” Lucy sighed, mentally already preparing for the uncomfortable encounter. It was almost noon, and all she wanted was to get back to her studies and maybe eat a bite. She had a big project coming up and didn’t want to waste any more time by doing pointless stuff like being photographed and complimented.

“I am afraid not, Miss Lucy, but he does have guests.” Leto answered as she led her up the stairs, feeling sorry for the girl. She knew her all too well, knowing how busy her life was and how little room she had for herself.

“Guests? Anyone I know?” This caught Lucy’s attention. Guests at the estate were rather unusual, and when there were any, she never got to meet them on purpose. She had once accidentally encountered a business partner of her father, who was storming off due to some deal that hadn’t worked out the way he had wanted to. After his temper tantrum Jude decided to hold meetings of that kind in the company rather than at his own home.

“I don’t think so, Miss. They arrived right after you left, and have been exploring the house since, but I don’t recall having seen them around here before.” Leto explained and made a small bow when they arrived at the doors to Jude Heartfilia’s study. Lucy took a deep breath and knocked, wondering about why her father’s guests would roam around the house. Did he hire a new team of bodyguards?

“Yes?” Jude’s voice sounded, and she entered.

The study was big, with high ceilings and made of dark wood. It was full of bookshelves and diplomas hanging on the walls. In the middle, right in front of a giant window, was Jude Heartfilia’s heavy wooden desk, and behind it, in a big leather chair, sat the man himself. He wore a dark brown suit, his blond hair, that was just a little darker than Lucy’s, combed back meticulously, and his piercing gaze directed right at her. It made her feel immediately uncomfortable, since usually he barely looked up from his work when he requested to talk to her. But today everything seemed to be different.

“Ah, Lucy. You’re back.” He stated and Lucy nodded, averting her eyes.

“Yes, father.”

Only then did she see the woman sitting in one of the heavy chairs across from Jude. She had big blue eyes and gorgeous white locks, which she had bound up in a high ponytail. They must be dyed, Lucy thought to herself, because the woman could only be a few years older than her. She gave Lucy a welcoming smile as she took in her black turtleneck and suit. As far as Lucy could see, she wore a skirt that fitted the blazer rather than pants.

A little farther, half hidden in the shadows of the bookshelves, Lucy spotted a man, wearing a black long-sleeved sweater and dark grey cargo pants. He had his arms crossed behind his back, and apart from his salmon-coloured hair Lucy couldn’t recognise anything about his face.

“This is Miss Mirajane Strauss, head of Strauss and Co.” Jude introduced the white-haired woman who in turn stood up and held her hand out for Lucy to shake. Frowning, she took it and realized that the woman would be visibly higher than her even without her heels.

“Strauss and Co. as in the security agency?”

“Exactly. I feel flattered that you have heard of us already.”

“Only bits. I have heard you’re supposed to be the best.” Lucy smiled, meaning her words as a challenge. When she could get rid of those who claimed to be the best, her father would be out of options.

Mirajane returned a smile so sickly sweet that Lucy knew she had understood the meaning of her words exactly but didn’t take it as an insult. That was interesting. “That is what people say, though I would not be so audacious as to say so myself. I like to let my records speak and my clients decide.”

“I have hired Miss Strauss and her people because of certain threats I have been receiving lately, and since I will be gone more often for business trips in the near future.” Jude explained and watched Mirajane stand by the side of his desk.

“Death threats?” Lucy questioned, not quite comprehending the reason for the sudden situation just yet. But death threats were nothing unusual among their circles, so what could have been so bad that he hired someone like Mirajane Strauss?

“Among other things, yes. In order to not restrict your freedom, they will accompany you every time you leave the estate and will guard the estate itself at all times, too.” In order not to restrict your freedom, Lucy could have barked out a laugh. Jude did not care for her freedom, he cared for her publicity meetings, for photoshoots and interviews. If it was just about her freedom or even her studies, he would gladly keep her at home with the best teachers he could find.

“I understand.” Lucy nodded, and so did Jude. She was dismissed and went to her own study in order to begin with her studies, and to start making plans on how to get rid of her new babysitters once again.

  Lucy: Guess who just got a new set of bodyguards.

 +++

 Natsu knew the girl was special the moment she entered her father’s study. The way she carried herself, the way she smiled and talked. She hated the idea of bodyguards, and if it hadn’t been obvious from how stiff she had become the moment she realized who Mirajane was, he would have known at least by her files. Or the deadly smile she had sent her boss. A challenge, no doubt.

Lucy Heartfilia had a track record of getting rid of both bodyguards and suitors within only a few weeks. It seemed that her game had even levelled up over time. Be it her scaring them away by being bratty and insufferable, or simply by proving them not fit for the job of protecting her by sneaking out in the middle of the night and getting photographed by some paparazzi, she had gotten rid of them all. That’s why Jude Heartfilia had contacted Mirajane, whose agency was said to be the best. Especially after the death threats and the failed attempt to break into the estate, which he probably hadn’t told his daughter about, he just needed to be sure that the heir to his company was in safe hands.

“My daughter is to be guarded at all times, do you understand, Miss Strauss?” His deep voice cut the silence, and Natsu turned his gaze from the door to the man. Mirajane nodded, gifting him her sweetest smile. It was part of her work concept, to be sweet and seem innocent. In reality she was the most dangerous person Natsu had ever encountered, and they both had been high tiers in the military before taking on their job as bodyguards. She believed that potential threats would underestimate her for her good looks and sugary words and make the mistake of coming forward, which gave her the opportunity to not only keep them far from her protégés, but also eliminate the threat emanating from them one way or another, constantly. And so far, her tactic had always worked, without exception. Dangerous men seemed to just love to underestimate kind women.

“Do not worry, Mr Heartfilia. You made the right choice to entrust Miss Lucy to us.”

“Well, well. I guess time will tell if your words are as honourable as they sound. You can go catch up with the rest of your team now.” He dismissed them and Mirajane stood up, made a polite bow, and motioned for Natsu to follow her. While Lucy’s words had been a challenge, his were a warning. If they couldn’t deliver the way he wished, he would get rid of them immediately.

Once the door fell shut behind them, the white-haired woman let out a sigh. “So, what’s your impression?” She asked, and Natsu started walking down the hallway. While Mirajane had been signing legal documents alongside Mr Heartfilia, he had taken a quick look around the house, so that he would be able to know his way around once the job actually started. He knew exactly where Mirajane wanted to go to next.

“Of the girl or her father?” He asked.

“Tell me both.”

“He seems to care for her safety, obviously, but not the way a loving father would. He cares the way an owner of some precious artifact would, and she knows. Their relationship is awful, to say the least, and believing the research I did it’s not even surprising. She hates how planned out her life is, and even more than that she hates bodyguards.” He stated and watched as Mirajane chuckled softly.

“Oh, that seems about accurate. You remember what we talked about the other day?”

“About how I’m to act around her?”

“Yeah. Be careful. I have a feeling that she will make it harder on you than the others.”

Now it was Natsu’s turn to sigh. Yes, she probably would. But he wasn’t Natsu if he would let that get in his way.

Stopping in front of the girl’s study, he raised his hand to knock, waiting for her soft voice to call them in.

Lucy Heartfilia’s study was very different from her father’s. It was packed with books, too, but where his seemed to be a bunch of classics that were bought solely for the purpose of making him look wealthy and intelligent, hers seemed to be personal. There were novels, and books about all kinds of scientific ranges or biographies about scientists and activists, and a whole shelf was packed with just what must be her old schoolbooks. Her desk was of lighter wood and an almost white colour, but even larger in space than his, and there were pens and markers of all colours neatly organized on it, right next to a big computer screen. In front of the chimney on the side wall there was a small coffee table, surrounded by armchairs and a small couch. On the table there was a staple of novels. The room seemed cosy, and personal.

“Oh, Miss Mirajane. I wasn’t expecting you to come and see me.” Lucy smiled confusedly and stood up from the chair behind her desk, starting to walk around it. Natsu couldn’t help but let his gaze roam her body again. It was gorgeous, to say the least. She had all the right curves in all the right places, wasn’t too tall either and seemed quite delicate. Her beautiful blonde locks framed her pretty face, and he could see that she wore only little makeup to accentuate her natural beauty. The girl was absolutely stunning.

Mirajane giggled. “Please, call me Mira. You don’t have to be so formal around me. I’m here because I wanted to talk some things through with you personally and thought that you might feel better if your father wasn’t present.”

This seemed to make the girl insecure, and she furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Sure. Would you like to take a seat?” She motioned for the armchairs in front of the chimney and Mirajane nodded. Once they were sat down opposite each other, Natsu went to stand behind his boss. Lucy gave him a polite smile, which he returned.

“To not beat about the bush, I’m sure you already noticed Natsu.” Mirajane introduced him and he nodded when she glanced up to him.

“He is my best man, and while my whole team will constantly care about the safety of you and your family, he will be your personal bodyguard. He will accompany you to university and to all kinds of other events. I’m afraid he will even be there when you just meet friends, as your father requested.” To Natsu it was obvious that Lucy hated every word coming out of her mouth, and yet she kept up a perfect smile. She didn’t blame Mira, he realized, even though she would make her job as hard as possible.

“What I wanted to ask you was, do you have a boyfriend, Miss Lucy?” Mirajane continued, earning a confused look from Lucy. For a moment, she didn’t seem to know what to say.

“Why is that relevant?”

“Because of the current situation, it would be an advantage if it wasn’t too obvious that Natsu is your bodyguard. Since he will be around you every time you leave the estate, a practical tactic would be for him to pretend to be your boyfriend. Only if you are comfortable with that, of course.” She quickly added, but Lucy didn’t seem entirely convinced yet. “You would not have to do anything you don’t like, just introduce him as such. If you do not want to go with this possibility, we can arrange some other cover story, of course. Our job is to take care about your safety while keeping you as comfortable as possible, so please don’t hold back with criticism.”

Lucy stayed awfully quiet for some minutes, thinking it all through. Eventually she nodded, giving Mirajane a smile that seemed a lot more honest and also mischievous than all the smiles she had put up before. Natsu swallowed hard at the wicked gleam in her angelic brown eyes. “If this is the best possibility, then I should not be the one to turn it down.”

“Great. I will leave you two to talk everything through then and check up on the rest of the team. I wish you a nice afternoon, Miss Lucy.” Mirajane stood up and bowed, before leaving the room in calm strides. When the door clicked shut behind her, Natsu turned his gaze towards Lucy.

“Will it be possible to tell the truth to my closest friends?”

“I’m afraid that I might have to advise against it.” Upon hearing his voice for thew first time, Lucy gave him an odd look.

“Just advise? Then I will tell them.“ She said, such finality in her voice that he knew, no matter what he would say would not find any soil to grow on.

“Is there anything else you would like to talk through or ask?” She questioned and stood up.

“No, Miss. I will remain here in the study with you, though.” She nodded before turning around and returning to her studies. Natsu decided to roam through her bookshelves in the meantime.

 He was currently studying an entire shelf full of astronomy books, wondering how someone could ever read something like that without banging their head against a wall, when Lucy cleared her throat behind him. Startled, he turned around, only to find her standing only centimetres beside him. How had she gotten there so quietly?

“Do you like astronomy, Natsu?” She purred, staring right up at him with her big brown doe eyes. He tried not to let it show how much impact they had on him.

He shook his head. “Can’t say I do, Miss. If anything, I’m more of psychology guy.”

“Psychology, huh?” She responded, inching closer. “Call me Lucy, will you?”

“If you wish me to.” He swallowed. What reaction was she trying to get out of him?

“I do. I’ve had psychology classes for some years myself. Loved them, though I had no time for them anymore upon entering university.” She murmured, curious eyes roaming over his chest muscles and biceps before she raised them to stare right back into his. “Have you ever been to university, Natsu?”

“I’m afraid not. After finishing high school, I went straight to the military.”  He responded, not sure as to why he was even telling her. He usually didn’t talk about his personal life to his clients.

“The military? So, you really are a tough guy…” Lucy stated, laying a hand on his arm. Only then Natsu realised that she was purposefully manipulating him, bringing him out of the concept. He shook her arm off and hardened his gaze.

“Yes, I am. May I help you with anything, Miss Lucy?”

Looking up at him, and seeing the change in his expression, Lucy smirked. The game had begun.

“Please, call me Lucy.” She repeated and turned away, walking back to her desk. With furrowed brows Natsu stared at her retreating figure, swearing that her skirt was higher up than it had been in her father’s study.

She wanted to play games, huh? Good thing he was a player then.

Hey Sweethearts, it’s me. I’m writing this fanfiction because, obviously, I love Fairy Tail, but also because I am not a native english speaker and I want to up my english game. I would really appreciate some feedback!

Have a lovely Day, your Duchess

[bordeleaubeau]

when worlds collide - ryder donovan

chapter one wc: 5167

“and y/n, you’re paired with ryder.” mrs. wilson smiles as she reads off the final pairing of partners, and you can feel the color draining from your face. you turn to your left, looking over a few rows towards where ryder donovan sat. a near stranger right now, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be in a few days. “okay. so i just ask that everyone pairs up with their assigned partner and you sit together, and then i’ll go over the rules, got it?” 

the once silent classroom is then filled with the noises of chairs screeching against the tiled floor. your classmate, juliana who sits next to you, lets out a sigh. “well, good luck with ryder, y/n. you’ve sure hit the jackpot. make sure no girls steal your partner, okay?”

you give her a look as she grabs her book bag, standing up from her desk that was right besides yours. “yeah well, chances are i’m gonna be doing all the work. so yeah, lucky me right?” you roll your eyes. juliana gives you one last pitiful look before she’s off to her partner. 

you’re reaching down to pick up the strap of your book bag, but you glance up and see the blonde headed boy heading over in your direction already. you let your bookbag fall to the floor, and in a few short seconds ryder is taking the spot juliana had once sat in. 

“i’m y/-”

ryder cuts you off, a half smirk on his face. “i know who you are, smarty pants. no need to introduce yourself.” he says, placing his book bag down on his desk. “man, what even is this project.”

and it seems mrs. wilson hears him from across the room. “good question, mr. donovan. so as you’ve observed, i’ve placed you in male to female partnerships for this project. and i know you’ll all probably be ready to kill me after this, but i think it’s going to open your eyes to the real world.” you and ryder are already exchanging nervous glances with each other. “the baby project.” immediately, there are groans from all around the room, and your teacher starts to talk over them. “my job is to basically teach you to stay abstinent. and there’s no better way to teach you than this project. you and your partner will be a couple for the next two weeks - you can be ‘separated,’ ‘divorced,’ whatever you want. but you’re taking care of a child together. you have to maintain the ‘happiness’ of the child whenever he or she may start to cry by using a designated key. but failure to stop the crying after multiple attempts will result in an automatic five percentage deduction from your grade. now, choose between yourselves to decide who comes to pick up your baby.”

you and ryder are both blankly staring at each other, mouths dropped open wide. you’re sure nearly every girl in the class is jealous of you and for reasons you can quite clearly tell. ryder was attractive, smart, and a crazy level of popular. but that’s what you get as your school’s hockey team captain, right?

“uh,” ryder mumbles, eyes glancing down at the pencil he’s fumbling in his hand. “i’ll go pick up, the uh-”

“the doll, ryder. it’s not real. no need to get so spooked out,” you cut him off, letting out a huff as you lean back in the chair. ryder wordlessly nods and gets up from his seat and goes up to the front of the room. 

you’re minding your own business, pulling your phone out of your pocket when you feel a tap on your shoulder. you turn to see keira bradley, the captain of the girl’s lacrosse team. “so, y/n,” she smiles sweetly, placing her hand on your shoulder. you don’t have the heart in you to shrug it off, even if you’ve spoken maybe three words to the girl in all of high school. “cute outfit today! that color blue really brings out your skin tone. well, anyway, i was wondering to you maybe wanna switch part-”

“not happening, keira,” you hear ryder’s voice, and for once you’re grateful for it. keira lets out a huff. “nice try, though.” 

when keira turns back around, you look over at ryder. “what, wanna stick with a partner that’ll end up doing the whole project for you? strategic, donovan. real strategic.” you mumble, leaning back in your seat once again. 

“that’s not what-“ ryder sighs. “i just don’t think we should switch. mrs. wilson gave us our partners for a reason. but anyway, i think we have a girl, and then this is our worksheet for her name and stuff.”

you take the paper from ryder’s grasp, glancing over the questions you have to answer throughout your time with the baby. at the top, you write down yours and ryder’s names, stopping when there’s a spot for your baby’s name. “what do you wanna name her?” 

“uhh, what about, uh just saylor?” ryder looks up at you for approval after his suggestion of the pretty name. you shrug, writing down ‘just saylor’ down on your paper. “oh come on, smart ass,” ryder lets out a laugh, grabbing your pencil and paper away and erasing the ‘just’ you had written. you see his eyes lingering on the last name you had written for your fake baby. “hey, i like that last name.” he smirks, referring to the fact that you had written donovan.

“you did say ‘just saylor,’” you mock ryder, a soft smirk on your face as your eyes go back up to your teacher standing in the front of the room, trying your very hardest at ignoring the blush on your cheeks.

“so!” mrs. wilson exclaims, regaining attention from your class. “i don’t expect you guys to be together twenty-four seven. that’s not realistic as high schoolers. but i’d hope you both put in effort. maybe one of you has the baby one day, the other has it another and you alternate. but you have fourteen days.” ryder sighs, his hand raising and waiting for mrs. wilson to nod in his direction. “yes, ryder.”

“mrs. wilson, i have hockey like, every day. and games. home and away. i’d feel bad leaving y/n to do all of that.” you hate all of the eyes that turn to look at you. normally, you loved mrs. wilson and you looked forward to her class. but right now? you were ready to drop dead. as if the looks from the girls weren’t deadly enough already. they’d kill to be in your position. 

mrs. wilson smiles at you sweetly, and you know you’re in for a treat. “well, miss l/n is a sweet girl. i’m sure she wouldn’t mind going to a few of your games, right y/n?”

you force a smile, “right, mrs. wilson.” 

“but, ryder, i do appreciate your dedication to your team,” mrs. wilson adds on before she looks back up at the clock. “we can end here for the day. if you aren’t familiar with your partner, get to know them. if not, feel free to do whatever with your free time.”

ryder puts your project worksheet in his binder and you put your pencil away, leaving you to simply tap your fingers against your desk seeing as there wasn’t a point in taking out your phone. 

“so,” ryder speaks up pulling your attention away from your desk. “i can have her for the night. we had practice this morning so i can take care of her. and then you can just meet me at my locker tomorrow morning and we can switch off, and then you can go to my game tomorrow night and we can switch. how does that sound?” 

if you’re being honest, you’re skeptical. sure, you’ve talked to ryder here and there throughout your four years of school together, but as ryder got more and more popular the less and less the two of you talked. but you didn’t really have a choice - and you never really did talk in the first place. you didn’t even think he really knew who you were let alone your name.

“yeah, that sounds good. it shouldn’t be a problem.”

ryder gives you a smile just as the bell rings signalling the end of your class. “great. i’ll see you tomorrow morning then, y/n.” ryder picks up the baby carrier your fake doll is in and he slings his bookbag over his shoulder. you watch as he walks out, meeting up with a few of his teammates while you’re left to wallow in the thoughts of what’s going to be the worst two weeks of your life. 

-----------

“so you’re telling me you got paired with the ryder donovan. for a baby project. where he’s literally your baby daddy!” kennedy has no sense of an indoor voice as she basically screams in the cafeteria, her eyes wide and her palms pressed flat down on the table. “y/n! this is huge!” 

you roll your eyes at your best friend as you take a sip from your water. “you’re ridiculous, kenna. you sure you don’t wanna trade places with me? it’s just a project. it’ll be over in two weeks and then he’ll forget i ever even existed.” 

“or! or, you two realize you’re meant to be and you fall in love, just like you were always destined to be.” kennedy lets out a sigh of bliss, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she gazes past your body with a soft smile on her face. 

“classic ken. hopeless romantic, as per usual,” josie says from beside you. you nod at her before looking back at kennedy who’s now pouting. 

“sorry i’m the optimistic one out of all of us. someone has to be,” the blonde mumbles, ducking her head as she continues to eat her food. 

you let out a sigh. of course you didn’t intend to make her feel bad, but sometimes kennedy got into her own head and made up her own fantasies. you would know, seeing as you had dealt with it since you were eight years old. “kenny, i just don’t wanna get my hopes up. with a boy like ryder, i’m lucky if i even end up as his friend after this whole thing is over. time will tell, alright? but until then, i need you girls with me at his hockey games.” 

kennedy’s eyes widen right away and you smile, knowing you’d get that reaction out of her. “like-like, logan anderson’s games too?” she sputters out, the fork in her hand falling onto the lunch table.

josie cracks up, “he plays on the hockey team, doesn’t he ken? and because he’s ryder’s best friend chances are when we wait for ryder after the game, logan will be with him too, and you can finally make your move.”

“yeah, you’re funny.” kennedy mumbles. “as if i’d ever make a move on logan? you’re funny, jose. really funny.” 

“oh come on, kenny! you two would be adorable. and if your far fetched fantasy of ryder and i getting together comes true, imagine all of the double dates we could go on!” you exclaim, your hand reaching across the wooden lunch table to rest on kennedy’s arm. she finally begins to smile. “there’s that smile!”

“okay, we’ll see, okay? just, it’s logan. i don’t wanna make a fool out of myself.” she admits sheepishly.

josie lets out a sigh, “well we’ll make sure you don’t and you’ll get the boy.”

-----------

later that night, you’re sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner with your mom, dad and your brother, william. “so, honey, how was school?” your mom asks, looking up at you from across the table.

you shrug, “well, i have a baby.” you say straight up, causing both of your parents to nearly start choking on their food. your dad goes to open his mouth to give you a piece of his mind, but you beat him to it. “please don’t freak. it’s a fake baby for my child development class. i’m partnered up with ryder donovan.”

your dad blows out a breath at the mention of ryder’s name, as he was the head coach for denfeld’s hockey team - aka east’s rival school. why you went to east, you couldn’t quite say. “now that’s something,” your father admits, mumbling down towards his plate. “so, tell us more. where’s the baby?”

“we’re doing a rotating schedule with it. he has it one day and then we’ll switch off. speaking of which, ryder needs me to go to their game tomorrow night so when i get the baby tomorrow i can give her to him that night,” you speak, looking at your dad for his reaction. you can’t quite read it.

whenever denfeld played east you always told your dad you were rooting for his team, but in reality you were actually rooting for your school. but you wouldn’t tell him that. but tomorrow night, now you would really have to root for east seeing as you wouldn’t want a grumpy ryder - and logan - after the game.

“well that’s gonna be something,” your little brother, william, spoke up from beside you. “y/n, it’s your turn for dishes tonight, by the way.”

after you finish eating and putting away all the dishes, you go up to your bedroom to see you have a few snapchats from none other than ryder donovan himself. you sit down on your bed and situate yourself before pressing on his name.

‘saylor misses her mommy’ was across one of the photos, where ryder had a forced pout on his face as he held your fake child. another one had ‘she won’t stop crying’ with his hand in the middle of running through his hair. finally there was one of him smiling, ‘just kidding, she finally stopped:)’ across it. 

you snap back a picture of yourself smiling with a thumbs up, ‘you’re a natural dono. if our baby is still in one piece by tomorrow morning i’ll be surprised’.

ryder sends back a photo of his mouth dropped open, ‘not cool, y/n/n. but anyway, what’s your number? it’s easier talking about this over text, not snap.’

you send ryder your phone number, and only a short few seconds later you get a text from an unknown number.

(218)-xxx-xxxx hey it’s ryder 

y/n:  i couldn’t have figured that out on my own or anything

rydes dono:  oh shut up. i just wanted to check up on my baby mama 

y/n:  i am not your baby mama, donovan.

rydes dono: well, you kinda are. anyway, meet me at my locker at 7? you know where it is right?

y/n: how could i miss it, you’ve got your own fan club of girls at your locker every morning.

rydes dono: oh lighten up, they all annoy me anyway. clara is bugging me to shoot around with her, so i’ll talk to you later?

y/n: yeah for sure.

to say the least, you fall asleep with a smile on your face and you pretty much wake up to it still spread across your face. you roll over, turning your alarm off before scrolling through your phone where you see you have a text message from ryder. 

rydes dono: good morning y/n/n, remember, meet me at my locker 

y/n: morning dono. really think i forget? or do you wanna get rid of saylor that bad

rydes dono:  just thought you’d forget.

you roll your eyes with a smile even though ryder can’t see you, and you leave it at that. you throw on a pair of black leggings and a baggy umd quarter zip sherpa along with a pair of low top converse. you grab your bookbag from the corner of your room and start to head downstairs, grabbing your car keys from the island counter in the kitchen.

“william! let’s go!” you yell, and only a mere few seconds later you hear the fifteen year old running down the stairs in the middle of fixing his tie that he had to wear on game day. 

“sorry, sorry,” william mumbles, looking up at your figure where you’re impatiently waiting for him. “okay, let’s go. what are you waiting for?”

you give your little brother a look before he’s following you out of the house and down to your car. you take the short ten minute drive to school, taking a five minute delay to get caribou for yourself and william, not bothering to get any for kennedy and josie as they had almost always gotten caribou for themselves as well.

“excited for tonight?” you ask, glancing over at william at a red light. “it’s your first game playing against dad. how you feelin’, bud?”

william looks up from his phone, his eyes widening slightly. “i’m a little nervous, not gonna lie. there’s a big difference in my game from last season to this season, and i don’t think dad has realized that just yet.”

you nod your head listening to him talk. william had been the hot shot freshman coming up that the entire coaching staff was excited for. william had just been cut short from the varsity team in 8th grade, but worked his butt off the entire summer. after his coach mike randolph at east saw his performance at summer tourneys, the excitement for the incoming freshman was surreal. as much as you hated to say it, they hadn’t been this excited for a freshman since ryder donovan.

“you just gotta kick his ass. and stay humble, too please. i don’t wanna be the girl with the idiotic brother, okay?” you say and william lets out a laugh but he stills nods. you know he would never do anything stupid, but still, it wouldn’t hurt to say anything. 

you pull into your parking spot, and almost immediately william jumps out to meet up with some of his teammates, which of course happen to be upperclassmen since william was the only freshman on the team - or rather, the only freshman that actually got ice time.

“bye y/n! have a good day!” william smiles, waving over his shoulder at you with a smile on his face.

“bye will, have a good day too. i’ll see you tonight at the game, buddy.” you watch as will walks away with his teammates leaving you to walk into the school alone. that was normal for game days, as soon as will saw some of his teammates he was gone. but you were okay with it, seeing as he had made such a close bond with his teammates regardless of how much younger he was.

once you get inside you head towards the senior locker bank, checking your phone to see that it was 6:59, and there wasn’t a single bone in your body that would doubt the fact ryder would give you shit for being even a minute late. you can see his locker even from all the way down the hallway. there’s probably about four girls there this morning, one being keira bradley from your childhood development class.

you have a tight lipped smile on your face as you approach the small group, where ryder, logan and ricky are standing with the girls. as soon as ryder sees you, a smile forms on his face. keira notices the smile and turns over her shoulder, her flirty smile turning into a grim one as she sees you.

“don’t worry, i’m just here for our baby,” you say rather awkwardly, trying to make your way to ryder. “morning, dono.”

“morning, y/n/n. here’s saylor,” ryder says, but then he unzips his bookbag and pulls out a sweatshirt. “and for the game tonight. gotta let everyone know who my baby mama is.” the smirk that’s on his face it lets you know he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“oh my god, ryder,” you mumble, taking the sweatshirt from his hands with blushing cheeks. “i’ll see you in child dev.”

“see you, y/n/n,” he’s biting his lip slightly after he says it, only adding on to the blush of your cheeks as you walk away, trying to ignore the conversation between him and his friends. 

you walk towards your locker, holding saylor’s carrier in one hand and ryder’s hockey sweatshirt and your coffee in your other hand, that you’re sure has his name and number on the back judging by his comment. when you get to your locker kennedy and josie are already standing there waiting for you, and of course they both have caribou in their hands as well. 

“what is that!” kennedy screeches for way too loud at 7 in the morning, pointing right at ryder’s sweatshirt in your hand. “and why are you blushing!”

you lift your hand to cover your face with the hand that’s holding ryder’s sweatshirt and go towards your locker, only lowering your hand when you have to set the coffee on the top of your locker and placing the baby carrier on the ground. you put in your combo and right before you open it, you show josie and kennedy the back of the sweatshirt, donovan and the number 22 pressed on it.

“no fucking way, y/n,” josie says, reaching out to touch the sweatshirt like it wasn’t real. “do you know what this means, y/n?”

you give josie a weird look, and before you can respond kennedy beats you to it. “y/n/n. logan has told me before ryder doesn’t give anyone his sweatshirts. let alone his team one. or his jersey. are you sure he doesn’t have a crush on you?”

“there is no way he likes me,” you scoff, folding the sweatshirt and placing it in your locker for when you grab it at the end of the day. you grab your binders for your first few classes and put them in your bookbag before shutting it and turning to your best friends that are giving you looks. “what?”

“i think ryder likes you!” kennedy sings, and you’re quick to shush her to shut her up. her mouth closes immediately.

“we don’t need that spreading around, kens. that’s probably the last thing ryder would want, especially when pretty much everyone knows my dad coaches denfeld and i constantly get shit for it.” the three of you then begin to walk towards your respective homerooms.

“speaking of denfeld,” josie smiles, “how’s our secret favorite l/n? is he excited for tonight? nervous?”

you sigh, but there’s a happy smile on your face. “he’s a little bit of both for sure. he’s gonna feel bad no matter what tonight, and there’s gonna be someone that loses. it’s the first time will’s played against our dad’s team, so i guess we’ll just see what happens tonight.”

“something tells me ryder is gonna make sure he has a killer night, y/n/n.” kennedy says. “there’s no way he doesn’t. those two set each other up like, every game. mostly all of ryder’s points are because of william and most of william’s points are because of ryder.”

you shrug as the three of you finally reach your homeroom, “well, we’ll see tonight, yeah? see you at lunch, girls.”

-----------

when you walk into your child development class, the first thing you notice is that ryder is sitting in the desk next to you just like he was before class ended the day prior. it’s like he has a second sense when you walk into the room, and right away he looks up and gives you a smile. you try to bite back your smile as you sit in your seat, setting down your baby carrier down on the tiled floor. 

“how’s she been today? she didn’t give me a lot of trouble last night, only a little bit here and there,” ryder asks, leaning back in his chair and looking over at you.

“she’s been an angel. i think she may be broken,” you joke, glancing down at the baby in your carrier. that’s for the better, too, even if it feels impossible peeling your eyes away from ryder when he’s dressed up for game day and looking as good as he does. 

ryder shoots you a boyish smile, one that nearly makes your stomach do flips and you have to look to the front of the classroom to prevent yourself from blushing. “nah, pretty sure you’re just that good as her mother.”

“ryder donovan, what am i gonna do with you?” you let out a breath as you speak, and you’re practically saved by the bell as mrs. wilson begins to talk after the bell rings.

“good morning guys! hope you all had a good first night being new parents and i hope there weren’t too many complications. does anyone have any questions?” she asks, surveying the room to see if any hands shoot up. she nods when she doesn’t see any. “great. now can we go by group by group and share one thing we learned about your baby? who wants to go first?”

as if he couldn’t be more of a mr. perfect, ryder raises his hand and mrs. wilson nods in his direction. “it’s a pretty good replica of an actual baby and they’re just as sensitive. and rocking them also helps to stop them from crying, it’s not just trying to figure out which key helps with what.”

“very good ryder, that’s spot on.” you even have to say you’re impressed by ryder’s answer, turning to give him an impressed look, in turn you receive a smug smile from him.

you listen as one person from each group that had their baby for the night says what they learned or observed, until finally everyone in the classroom gives their answers. “okay, so here’s the part two to this project.” immediately there’s a few groans coming from around the room. “yeah, i know. but this part is a little bit more fun. because you’re supposed ‘teen parents’ you’re going to have a tighter budget than normal. you have to make do with eight hundred and fifty dollars. all fictional, of course. and make a budget of what you need for your newborn baby. and that includes a stroller, a highchair, a crib, diapers, anything you could possibly need for a baby.”

you and ryder both turn to look at each other. “is she serious right now?” ryder mumbles, glancing up towards mrs. wilson before looking back at you.

“i guess she is.” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest as mrs. wilson begins to explain the second half of your project.

“do you think it would just be easier if one of us just goes to the other’s house?” ryder leans over to ask you quietly and you shrug. “that’s not a response, y/n.”

“well you always have hockey, donovan. one of us is gonna end up doing this entire portion by themself.” it’s not that you’re blaming ryder and his hockey schedule, because you’re not, it was just a bit annoying that the project was planned during the most hectic sports season at your school.

“i’m sorry, y/n. if we’re away for the weekend and you have her for multiple days i’ll make up for it, i promise,” ryder whispers, noticing the glances mrs. wilson is giving the two of you that’s silently telling you to stop talking. 

“now, let’s talk some extra credit.” all of the ears of the kids who needed a grade boost suddenly perk up, including ryder, who’s eyebrows raise. “you can make a family scrapbook. all you have to do is make a slideshow, put pictures of you and your little family and present it in front of the class if you so choose. like i said, it’s only extra credit and it isn’t necessary, but, it’s definitely a little more fun to do.”

“we’re doing that,” ryder whispers as quietly as he can, leaning in closer than he had before. “i have a high c in here and i need to get it up to a b.” 

you nod your head not risking mrs. wilson giving the two of you another warning look as she finishes explaining everything, which ends up taking up the rest of the class.

“so i’m gonna see you tonight, right?” ryder asks as he slings his bookbag over his shoulder. 

“of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world, donovan,” you smile at him, slinging your own bookbag over your back and picking up your baby carrier. as if on cue, saylor begins to cry and your eyes widen. “rydes.”

ryder turns around at the sound of not only the wail of his name, but also the robotic pre recording cry of the baby. “y/n, just pick her up. have you ever taken care of a child before?”

you sheepishly shake your head. you and william were so close in age you didn’t ever take care of him when he was a baby and you don’t remember him being a baby since you were so young. ryder steps in close to you, picking up saylor and positioning her in your arms. 

“just like that,” ryder mumbles, reaching into the carrier to grab the set of keys that would assist in stopping the crying. “i fed her this morning, so she probably needs a dirty diaper change.” ryder mumbles to himself, grabbing the yellow colored key and holding it over the baby’s chest where the sensor was. and just like that, she stops crying. 

“how are you so good at this?” you whine, placing saylor back in the carrier and covering her with a blanket. ryder shrugs, a shy smile on his face.

“i have four other siblings, y/n. i may be the forgotten middle child, but i picked up a few things with my younger siblings.” ryder says, helping you cover up saylor, your hands brushing over each other’s. the warning bell rings, and that’s when you realize your chances of being late to lunch are now extremely high. you look up at the clock and curse under your breath. “what’s up, y/n/n?”

“just gonna be late to lunch, that’s all. kennedy probably stole my seat,” you roll your eyes, picking up the carrier as the two of you begin to make your way out of the classroom. but your eyes catch mrs. wilson, and the younger teacher grins at you, making you smile shyly with blushing cheeks.

to say the least, she knew what she was doing. 

“lunch? try econ with gates, if i’m late to his class i’m gonna have detention for a week.”

you shrug your shoulders, “better get running then, dono, or your ass is grass.”

“yeah, yeah. i’ll see you tonight, y/n. and you better be wearing my sweatshirt.” ryder says and he begins to walk the other way. “oh, and y/n?” ryder asks, and you turn around to see him walking backwards so he’s facing you. “ don’t forget to tell your dad they’re going down tonight.”

chapter two

[lunetheaveragefan]

one day...

Hi! This is the beginning of the first fanfiction that I’m posting here! I hope people like it!

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: Some cursing and quick mentions of anxiety/a panic attack. If you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 1,691

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CHAPTER ONE

Virgil Tempest is having a bad day.

First of all, he’d woken up late. 30 minutes late, to be exact. That left him only 10 to get ready for school, so he didn’t have time to put on his foundation. Now, the feature he hated most about himself — his freckles — would be visible for all to see. 

Secondly, his favorite hoodie was in the wash, so he had to wear his old, plain black one that he hadn’t worn since at least seventh grade. It was buried in the way back of his closet, wedged between a leather jacket he’d completely forgotten he owned and the suit he had only worn once, at a funeral for some distantly related family member.

Thirdly, he forgot his headphones at home in his rush, and so now he had to suffer the whole day, unable to block out the noise of his idiotic school. He thought he had a spare pair in his backpack, but when he looked once he got to school, there weren’t any in sight. 

Earlier, he thought it couldn’t get any worse, but he is sure now that it was just building up to this.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Roman Princeford apologizes loudly from above him. To say Virgil dislikes Roman would be an understatement. Roman has a ridiculously pompous name and a personality to match. The star theater kid, popular king of the school, and friend to everyone. Well, everyone except for Virgil. Even Virgil’s only friend, Logan Wise, a class-A nerd, likes Roman. 

Needless to say, Virgil doesn’t see Roman’s appeal. Maybe, if Roman could stand to be a whole lot less arrogant, say, every day, or if he stopped being so excessively extra, or if he just took the time to do something other than theater and bragging, he might be tolerable. The key word there being ‘might.’

“It’s fine,” Virgil mumbles from the floor, where he had landed after Roman knocked into him while Virgil was walking. Roman had been talking to his usual group of fans, taking up most of the hallway since pretty much everyone wanted to listen to him, and had thrown out an arm in one of his usual grand gestures and pushed Virgil right over. He’d landed on the floor, books strewn everywhere, being watched by the whole hallway. Of course, it’s more crowded than usual thanks to the tall tale Roman was describing that apparently no one could afford to miss out on. It didn’t help that Roman had decided to make a big deal out of it, either. 

Wishing this terrible day could just end already, Virgil shifts to a crouch and begins to gather his books. To his utter dismay, Roman bends down to help him. Annoyed as he is, Virgil can’t get up the courage to tell the other boy to leave him alone. Even so, the work goes quicker with the other boy helping, and, as much as he would hate to ever admit it, Virgil appreciates it. 

They both reach for the last book on the ground at the same time, and their hands knock into each other. 

“S-Sorry,” Roman says, and Virgil thinks he hears a stutter in his voice. Roman Princeford, the theater prodigy who never messes up a line, stuttering? But when Virgil looks up at Roman, there’s a blush working its way across the other boy’s tan cheeks. Strange. This close, Virgil can see the bluish specks in the other boy’s green eyes. 

Roman must feel Virgil’s eyes on him, because he looks back at him, handing him his last book. Dread settles in Virgil’s stomach as he realizes that Roman must be able to see his freckles. Just as he remembers, Roman’s eyes drop to the other’s nose, where the freckles are the most noticeable. Shit, Virgil curses. 

Yanking the book away from Roman, Virgil turns away and stands up, and Roman soon follows suit. There’s a redness on both of their faces now, but on Virgil’s pale skin, it’s much more visible. How long was I staring at his eyes? He shakes his head, letting his dyed-purple bangs fall over his face. 

Resituating his books in his arms and weaving his way through the people, he starts the walk to his next class, art.

“Have a nice day!” Roman calls from behind him. Virgil sighs and pulls up his hood, wishing now more than ever that he had his headphones.

“Whatever,” he mutters, but the whole next period, all he can think about is Roman Princeford’s bright green eyes, tan skin, and wavy blond hair. 

I must be going crazy, he decides. I mean, I know I’m gay, but gay for Roman Princeford, of all people? I don’t know him at all, and from what I’ve heard — and experienced — he’s not someone I would ever get along with. There’s no way I could possibly have a crush on him. 

Right?

------------------

At lunch, Virgil drops down in the seat next to Logan with a thud. 

“Greetings,” Logan states professionally. “Am I misperceiving your body language and demeanor or was your day thus far below average in terms of relative happiness and unpleasantly abnormal?” Virgil looks at him around his bangs, puzzled.

“What?” Is he even speaking English? Virgil wonders.

“Pardon me, I forget that you are intellectually compromised when it comes to my copious vocabulary. Let me rephrase,” Logan proclaims. He clears his throat and lays his hands on the table, his fingers pressed together to form triangle-like shapes. “Did your day suck or are you just being your—” Logan waves a hand at Virgil’s body— “regular grumpy asshole self?”

Virgil is taken aback for a second before he rolls his eyes. 

“Roman fucking Princeford bumped into me in the hallway, and then had the nerve to say, ‘Have a nice day!’ afterwards in that disgustingly cheery voice of his!” Virgil complains, poking at his food. He doesn’t really intend on eating any of it; the school’s food is terrible, and besides, he isn’t too hungry anyway. He has some crackers in his bag if he really needs something to eat later.

“I do not understand why you antagonize him so often, but I suppose if you refuse to change your opinions of him, there isn’t much I can do on the matter.” Logan pauses, and Virgil has a feeling he knows what’s coming next: one of Logan’s rare discussions of emotions. “But you shouldn’t just assume that everyone is out to hurt you, Virgil.”

Yup, there it is. Virgil likes Logan’s company because he isn’t too tied up in his emotions, unlike Virgil. He knows the facts, and that’s relieving when Virgil is in the midst of a period of overwhelming anxiety. But sometimes, Logan thinks he knows what’s best for Virgil, especially when it comes to matters concerning Roman Princeford.

Scoffing, Virgil crosses his arms and leans against the back of the chair. “Whatever,” he sighs.

Logan takes a deep breath, obviously trying to calm his temper, which has a habit of getting out of control, and responds, “Virgil, this is unhealthy. You have—” But before Virgil can find out what Logan thinks he has to do, another voice cuts Logan off.

“Heya, guys! How are you?” Virgil looks up to see a shorter student standing there. This new kid’s hair is a mess of amber curls, tumbling over his forehead and slipping behind his round, wire rimmed glasses. Tan skin covered in freckles and a round face gives him a youthful look, but Virgil knows that he’s a junior just like him. 

His name is Patton Hart, and Virgil, surprisingly, doesn’t hate him.

Patton is known for being one of the kindest people in the school. No matter who it is, Patton will find a way to cheer someone up. Back in December of their freshman year, Patton helped Virgil calm down during a panic attack around finals. Virgil harbors no ill will towards the kid, but it’s still strange that he’d show up at their table randomly. 

Then, Virgil remembers that Patton’s best friend is the one and only Roman Princeford. 

Roman probably sent Patton to tell me something. Damn, I hate that stuck up asshole. Before Virgil can open his mouth to ask Patton what he wants with them, since Logan and him are the only ones anywhere near, Logan talks first.

“Hi, Patton!” His voice is so upbeat and joy-filled that Virgil has to look over at Logan to make sure he did, indeed, speak. In the seat next to him, Logan’s face is lit up with a smile, and he looks so…well, not-Logan. And, wait, is that a blush on Logan’s cheeks?

Virgil raises his eyebrows in shock and blinks a few times to make sure what he’s seeing is real. When nothing changes when he opens his eyes, Virgil ignores the strangeness of whatever’s happening next to him and looks back at Patton. 

“Hey, Patton,” he greets. “What do you need?” He tries to keep his voice annoyance-free, so not to hurt the other kid’s feelings. Patton’s a little puffball of innocence and positive energy, and the whole school has made an unspoken agreement to keep it that way.

“Oh, I just came over to talk to Logan about our science project!” 

“We were paired together as lab partners today,” Logan explains, still with that wide smile on his face. 

Weirded out by the scene unfolding in front of him, Virgil pokes at his food one last time and decides he’s not so hungry to risk getting food poisoning. 

“Alright, then,” he says, standing up, “I’ll leave you guys alone so you can talk about your nerdy physics stuff.”

“Actually, Virgil, it’s chemistry we’re taking,” Logan informs him, some semblance of his usual professional manner returning. 

“Well, it’s still science, and it’s still nerdy, so my point stands.”

Patton giggles, and Logan seems to blush, but at this point, Virgil doesn’t trust his own eyes. 

“Well, goodbye, kiddo!” Patton exclaims, waving. Virgil laughs at Patton’s use of ‘kiddo’ even though they're in the same grade and waves back. Telling Logan that he’ll see him later, he turns and dumps his try, finally exiting the noise of the cafeteria.

[westfalloutboy]

Ferrets and Cowardly Lions

Special thanks to @devilrising for being my beta for this piece, you’re the best <3 I haven’t really written Drarry before so this was a fun project. I’ve always wished that there was more fanfic about Hary and Draco being professors together and being in a relationship so I just decided to write my own. If you have any prompts for professors Drarry send them to me!

Harry Potter just totally, absolutely, sucked as an Auror.

 “’Mione, I just don’t know anymore, I don’t think that I’m meant to be an Auror,” Harry said with a sigh, running his hand over his face in exhaustion. He was currently sitting in his best friend’s office as she read over the multiple files on her desk, every so often taking a moment to have a bite from her lunch that Harry had brought.

“That’s what you said after you decided you didn’t want to do quidditch either,” she pointed out, not bothering to look up from her files. “Remember, Ginny tried to get you to try out for the Chudley Cannons and you purposefully messed it up.”

“I did not! I just had a sore shoulder that day!” He exclaimed, sitting up in his seat. “And why would I ever want to be on the Chudley Cannons team?”

Hermione simply shrugged her shoulders and looked up at her best friend. “What are you going to tell your partner when you resign?” She asked, dropping the quidditch talk.

“Ron will be fine,” Harry said, waving his hand dismissively.

“The same Ron who gave you the silent treatment for a week after you told him you didn’t like the Cannons? The one who has dreamed about the two of you being partners since fifth year?”

Harry slumped back down in his chair. “Fuck.”

“I think if you find a good job that would be a good replacement that maybe he would be a little more understanding of it…maybe,” she said with a grimace.

“You’re right,” he murmured, racking his fingers through his hair.

…   …   …   …

“You’re what!?” Ron shouted at his best friend.

“Ronald! Rose is trying to sleep!” Hermione shouted from another room. Harry grimaced and leaned back from the fire call, scared that Ron would reach through and strangle him.

“I’m quitting the Aurors, Ron. I’m miserable, I hate it,” Harry said, leaning back on his heels. “Look, I thought that being an auror was what I wanted but after four years of it, I’m just not happy doing it. I don’t know if maybe it’s because defeating Voldemort sapped it out of me and I didn’t realize it, or what. But being an Auror, it’s just not my calling. I keep getting in trouble with Robards for going against orders, I don’t like following the auror rules, I just want to be able to do my own thing, and I don’t know, I can’t do that as an auror.”

“Well, what-what are you going to do?” Ron spluttered.

“Well, I reckon, I don’t know.” Harry scratched at his head. “I think- I want to take some time to find myself. My entire life I’ve been told I needed to defeat Voldemort, but after that, I wasn’t really left with any real direction.”

“Well, if you need any help, you know ‘Mione can help you find a job. It’s one of the perks of being best friends with the Minister,” he said, giving Harry a wry smile.

“Thanks mate, but this is something I need to figure out on my own,” Harry told him, giving his best friend a smile of his own.

1 year later

“Someone needs to talk to him,” Hermione hissed, looking down at the man who was currently passed out on her couch. Harry’s glasses were cracked, he was wearing sweatpants that Hermione was quite certain did not start out the colour that they currently were, and a baggy Falmouth Falcons shirt.

“I’ve already tried, he won’t listen,” Ron huffed, looking down at his best friend. For the past year, while Harry was supposedly finding himself, he had travelled the world, gotten a few tattoos, and turned into a lazy drunk. Pretty much in that order.

Harry let out a loud snore and rolled over on the couch.

“Oi! Harry! Wake up!” Ron shouted, kicking his friend lightly in the back.

“’M sleeping, go ‘way,” Harry mumbled.

“You need to go home, Harry, now,” Hermione said with an exasperated sigh. “You have a meeting with Headmistress McGonagall at noon.”

Harry shot up from his spot. “What?”

“McGonagall wants to meet with you at Hogwarts today at noon, remember? We had an entire conversation about this last week,” Hermione huffed.

“Why am I meeting Minerva?” He mumbled, rubbing his face tiredly.

“She didn’t say, she just asked to meet with you, now get up, go to Grimmauld Place,  take a shower and for the love of god shave that disgusting beard. Merlin, Harry,” Hermione exclaimed.

Harry scowled as Ron yanked him off the couch and led him to their fireplace. “It’s been a nice time having you here mate, but it’s time for you to go,” he said, clapping Harry on the back. Harry scowled and headed back to his own home. 

…

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Headmistress?” Harry asked, slowly sitting down in the green corduroy chair that sat in front of McGonagall’s giant desk.

“Mrs. Granger wrote me a letter claiming that you were in need of a calling,” she said simply, taking off her glasses and folding them up before she set them on the desk. “My Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has decided that she vehemently hates children and I am in need of a new professor before the start of the new school year.”

“I don’t think I would be a very good teacher,” Harry said with a laugh.

McGonagall raised her eyebrows. “Are you so sure, Mr. Potter?” She asked, folding her hands in front of her on the desk primly. “You’re the Savior of the wizarding world, you were an auror for what? Four years?”  She asked.

“And?” Harry asked, leaning back in his seat.

“And when you were only a fifth year did you or did you not teach a group of students Defense Against the Dark Arts?” She asked.

“Well, that was just because Umbridge wasn’t teaching us anything and we were in the beginning of a war with Voldemort!” Harry exclaimed.

“One year, Mr. Potter, that’s all I ask. Be the Defense Professor for one year, and if you don’t like it, you can leave and go back to getting drunk and passing out in the Granger family’s house.”

“How do you know about that?” He demanded.

“Mrs. Granger and I are friends, we keep up with one another, Mr. Potter. Now, Winky here shall show you to your new quarters and help you get settled. Then, the fun begins and you get to get started planning for your first year here. You still have three months so that will be plenty of time,” she said just as the house elf appeared and looked up at Harry.

“I didn’t even agree!”

“You will do a splendid job, my boy,” Dumbledore said from his portrait behind McGonagall.

Before Harry could even continue to argue, Winky had dragged him out of the room.

3 years later

“Professor Potter!” A first year shouted as he bursted into Harry’s office, tears streamed down his face.

Harry looked up from his grading and frowned. “What is it, Tommy?”

“P-Professor Malfoy took ten points from Gryffindor because I s-said his name wrong,” he sobbed, hiccuping slightly between words. “We-we’re gonna lose the House Cup because of me!”

“We aren’t going to lose the Cup because of the smelly ferret,” Harry told him, ruffling his hair. 

The young boy looked up at him. “Promise?” He asked, his eyes wide. 

“Promise, just you wait, we’re going to win just like Gryffindors do every single year,” Harry said and stood up. “Now, it’s past curfew so let us get you back to the common area and you go up and get some sleep.”

Tommy nodded and followed Harry back to the Gryffindor commons. Once Harry was absolutely sure that the young boy was okay, he headed straight to the dungeons to find a certain Potions professor.

 Not even bothering to knock on the Slytherin’s office door, Harry waltzed in and leaned against the door jamb and stared at the blond man. Draco had himself bent over a large textbook. 

“You really took ten points for him saying your name wrong?” Harry asked, looking amused. Draco jumped and glared at the man in his doorway. 

“Shut the door, were you raised by muggles?” He snapped. 

“Actually, I was,” he said, giving Draco a pointed look before he shut the door and took a seat on the green velvet couch. 

“He called me Professor Mafloy,” Draco said, scowling. 

“Mafloy? That’s it?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“I told you, Potter, Slytherins are winning the Cup this year. You and your cowardly Gryffindors are getting far too cocky, and the Slytherins deserve to prove that we are in fact the superior house,” the lanky man said with a sniff. 

“If you say so, now what exactly are you doing?” Harry asked. “I’ll just get you back and take twenty points from Parkinson’s kid tomorrow.”

“Working on a new potion,” he murmured, writing something down in the large leather bound book. “Pansy will in fact show up and throw you in the lake and you very well know it.”

“Has she forgiven her son for getting sorted into Hufflepuff yet?” Harry asked, thinking about the poor eleven year old boy who was still getting howlers from his mother. His twin sister, on the other hand, was sitting very happily in Slytherin, just how their mother wanted.

“Unfortunately, Blaise has not had very much success in getting her to stop being angry,” he said.

“It’s not Zachary’s fault that he’s a Hufflepuff, I mean you’ve met the kid, he’s the nicest child in his year,” Harry stated. Draco shook his head. 

“He’s the first non-Slytherin in the entire Parkinson line,” Draco pointed out.

“And he’s sitting happily in Hufflepuff where he belongs, the boy wouldn’t survive in Slytherin, I’m still unsure as to how he survives with Pansy as his mother,” Harry stated. While everyone in all of Hogwarts were sure that Harry and Draco absolutely hated each other, that wasn’t entirely true. While in front of the students and faculty, Harry and Draco were enemies, in the private rooms of their offices, the two had actually become wonderful friends. Neither were absolutely positive how it had happened, Harry reckoned it started when Draco had run into Harry when the Gryffindor was moving into his quarters, and for the first time since eighth year, saw one another. Draco had awkwardly helped Harry pick up his box that he had spilt and walked with him to his new living quarters. 

From there, the two had an unsteady, awkward friendship that after three years blossomed. Being the youngest professors at Hogwarts, and having as much history between them as they did, it made their camaraderie interesting, but easy. If one of them had a difficult day of classes, the two would meet, either in their office or their rooms and drink and talk absolute shit about their students. Sometimes they would talk about the nightmares they both still struggled with. Other times, they would talk about how they had both felt so entirely lost before they found their places back at Hogwarts. While no one but the two of them knew that they were friends, they had learned everything about one another. 

So much so that it almost felt like Harry knew Draco’s friends as well as they knew their own. But, before they knew it, the two of them were no longer calling one another Potter and Malfoy. Now they were simply Harry and Draco. Unless one of them was irritated. 

“You have anything to drink in here?” Harry asked, looking around the office. Draco’s office was not what anyone would have ever expected for Draco Malfoy. The walls were all covered with shelves and cabinets. The right wall was nothing but potions, potions ingredients, and other questionable objects that Harry was slightly too scared to ask Draco about. The left wall was absolutely nothing but books, as was the wall behind Draco’s desk. The wall in the front held Draco’s awards and achievements. The man didn’t boast about it, or even really talk about it, but he had become one of the most accomplished Potions masters in the entire wizarding world. 

Not very many people were happy about a former death eater being so accomplished at potions, but Harry was beyond proud.

“No, you know I don’t keep drinks in my office, especially not this close to potions. unlike you, I don’t want to have to worry about students breaking into my office for alcohol.”

“That’s only happened twice,” Harry pointed out. 

“Twice! Potter! Twice!” He gave his best friend a look. “How on earth have students gotten into your office and stolen alcohol from you not once, but twice?”

He shrugged. “Their charms teacher is amazing at their job.”

“That’s obviously it,” Draco snorted and stood up straight. He brushed his robes off and looked Harry up and down. “What kind of professor wears jeans?”

“We are not getting into that conversation right now,” Harry said and stood up. “Now, let’s go to your rooms so I can get a drink and you can explain to me how calling you Professor Mafloy is deserving of taking ten points from a first year.”

Draco chuckled and followed Harry out of his office. “He started crying as soon as I took the points away,” he said, a small smirk on his face. 

“Draco.”

“All I’m saying is that Gryffindors are undeserving of their title of being courageous. I have yet to meet a Gryffindor who isn’t scared of me.”

“What am I?” Harry scoffed. “Chopped liver?”

Draco just scoffed and shook his head before the two headed to his rooms. 

The next day, Harry barged through the headmistress’ office with a scowl on his face. 

“Minerva I am over it!” He shouted, unceremoniously falling into the chair in front of her desk. “Malfoy has crossed a line! He took ten points from one of my students for calling him Professor Mafloy! Ten points!”

Before Minerva could even bother to open her mouth, the door to her office slammed open once again, this time a potions professor marched his way into the office. 

“All of Gryffindor House has started calling me Professor Mafloy! I’m taking a thousand points!” He roared. Minerva let out a sigh and looked at the two grown men before her. 

“Honestly, Gentlemen, you have been colleagues for three years now, don’t you think it’s time to be done with these petty arguments?” She asked tiredly. “The two of you should have left all of this behind after the war.”

“He has his students calling me Mafloy, Minvera, Mafloy,” Draco ground out. Harry smirked. 

“It could be worse, I could have them all call you Professor Ferret,” Harry said, crossing his arms, absolutely pleased with himself. He honestly didn’t even have to tell the Gryffindors to call Draco Mafloy, they had decided to do that themselves. 

“Ferret!?” Draco all but screeched and looked at the Headmistress. “Minerva!”

“I am not getting in the middle of the two of you and your mindless squabbling. Mr. Potter, I advise you to cease and desist on calling Mr. Malfoy anything but his given name. The same goes for your Gryffindors. And if I hear about either of you needlessly taking points from one another's house, I will take your point privileges away, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Ma’am,” both men said dutifully. 

“Good, now go to your next classes,” she said, dismissing the two professors. 

The two stomped out of the office and Draco glared at Harry. 

“I hate you,” he muttered and Harry gave him a cheeky smile. 

“I hate you too, Professor Mafloy,” he said before he spun on his heel and headed to his first class of the day, letting out a yelp as Draco’s stinging hex hit him on the heel. He flicked two fingers at the blond man before he turned out of the hall.

…

Draco clenched his jaw when he saw the stuffed ferret sitting on his desk. “Potter? Was this your doing?” He demanded, not even bothering to turn to look at the man who was currently smothering away his amusement. 

“Would you even believe me if I told you no?” He asked, coming up and picking up the stuffed Ferret. “Aw, Malfoy, it looks just like you,” Harry cooed.

“Remember that statement next time you accept a drink from me, or a hangover potion, Potter.”

“You ruin all of my fun,” Harry said sullenly, as he looked at the white ferret. “But no, this was not my doing. I believe a certain Headmistress left it for you,” he told his friend as he picked up a note that sat on Draco’s desk. 

Draco snatched it and scowled at the paper. “Let this be a reminder that I will take your point privileges away.” He looked up at Harry sharply. “Did she leave you a threat too?”

“Yes,” he said, a scowl now on his face as well. “A stupid little lion that was crying. She’s mean.”

“She is,” Draco agreed before he grabbed the stack of papers. “Your rooms or mine tonight?”

“Mine, I don’t trust anything you try to give me to drink,” Harry said with a sigh. “Although, I will warn you, I have a boggart hiding in my room at the moment and I’m still not entirely for sure where it’s at.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “How on earth do you lose a boggart?”

Harry laughed as the two walked out of Draco’s office together. “I’ll be honest, I am an absolutely lousy professor. I’m still not sure how I even got my job.”

“Nepotism, I would imagine. Considering your best friend is the minister.”

“My best friend is a lousy potions master, what are you talking about?” Harry asked, bumping his shoulder against Draco’s. Draco’s cheeks turned a light pink.

“Shut up, you git. You’re horrid when it comes to grading, and keeping up with your assignments, and creatures, you’re also pretty bad at keeping your Gryffindors out of trouble, but I won’t lie, you’re an excellent Defense professor. Probably one of the best that Hogwarts has ever had.”

“Draco,” Harry cooed. “That’s the nicest thing you have ever said to me!”

Draco glared at his best friend before heading up the stairs. 

“So, I’ve heard about some new colleagues that we should be getting,” Harry said conversationally as they got to his rooms. 

“And?” Draco asked, raising his eyebrows, the two of them walking in.

“And Hagrid is recommending Charlie Weasley to take over Magical Creatures, and Neville Longbottom just got a job offer to teach Herbology.”

Draco froze and stared at the man in front of him. “A Weasley and Longbottom?” He demanded. 

“At least it isn’t Ron?” Harry offered, pushing Draco into his rooms. 

“Thank Merlin it isn’t the Weasel, but still, Harry, I am going to have to deal with both of them?” He demanded as Harry poured the two of them both a glass of firewhiskey and they sat side by side on Harry’s old couch. 

“I think that you’ll be just fine,” Harry stated, patting Draco’s knee softly.  “Did I ever tell you I actually had a crush on Charlie?”

Draco glanced at him. “Merlin, Harry, just how many Wesleys did you have a thing for?” He demanded. 

Harry hummed and took a sip of his drink. “Three. You’re not allowed to know the third one because you’ll just make fun of me.”

That made Draco grimace. “Don’t tell me it was the Weasel.”

“Fuck no!” Harry said, absolutely horrified at the very thought. “It was George.”

“No kidding,” Draco laughed. 

“Unfortunately George is very straight and very much interested in his wife. Charlie, on the other hand, a few years ago he was trying to figure out his sexuality and I was going through my weird journey of self discovery. I got sex, Charlie realized he was asexual. Kinda bruised my ego won’t lie,” Harry said. 

Draco snorted, something that once upon a time would have shook Harry to his core to hear Draco Malfoy do something so undignified. “My first time was with Theo.”

“Gross!”

“Not nearly as bad as the time I got so fucked that I tried to fuck Greg.”

Harry choked and looked at his friend. “No!”

Draco’s cheeks went red. “Unfortunately. He turned me down, thank heavens.”

“You and Goyle,” Harry laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. The two continued talking about their past conquests as Harry’s floo opened up and someone stepped through. 

“Harry could you possibly- Malfoy?” Hermione said, confused. 

“What’d you mention-Malfoy?” Ron said, looking at the two men sitting uncomfortably close to one another on Harry’s couch. Draco coughed and rapidly stood up. 

“Well, Potter, thank you for the drink but I do believe it’s time I retire to my rooms,” he said, brushing off his pristine trousers. 

“Draco,” Harry said with a sigh. “Finish-“

“I have some grading to get done,” he said before quickly leaving Harry’s rooms. 

Ron frowned. “That was weird, what was Malfoy doing here? Why was he here?” He asked. 

“We were having drinks,” Harry said with a sigh, setting his glass down. “What did you need?”

“I didn’t know that you and Malfoy were friends,” Hermione said, sitting on the couch next to Harry.

“Yes, Draco and I are friends, we’ve been friends. Now, what did you need,” Harry said impatiently. He wasn’t trying to be rude to his friends, it was just that he enjoyed spending a few hours each night with Draco. It was the thing he looked forward to most throughout the day. 

Ron gave his best friend a confused look. “You’re friends with the ferret?”

Harry made a face. “Don’t call him that. What did you need?”

“Well, we were going to see if you wanted to get drinks considering we haven’t seen you in weeks,” Hermione said, crossing her ankles. 

“But it seems that you’re already ahead of us,” Ron said dryly. “Seriously Harry, the ferret?” He demanded. 

“Yes, Ron, the ferret, we’ve been friends for a while now,” Harry said. 

“Oh,” Ron said and made a face. “Why?”

“Why are we friends?” Harry asked, glancing over at the man. 

“Yes, why are you friends with Malfoy? Think about everything he put you through! He’s a horrible person! Do you not remember seventh year?” Ron demanded. 

“You mean when he lied about recognizing me? Or what about eighth year when he apologized to all of us for letting his parents influence him? You have no idea who Draco is anymore, he’s an amazing person,” Harry exclaimed defensively. 

“Harry,” Hermione said slowly. “Is there something that we’re missing here?”

“What do you mean? We’re friends, so what?” Harry asked, shrugging his shoulders. He stood up and poured both Ron and Hermione something to drink. 

“That didn’t look like being just friends,” Ron mumbled. “You were...cuddling. Wait, are you together?!”

“We were just sitting together and talking, it wasn’t cuddling, Ron. We aren’t together”

“Harry, do you like him?” Hermione asked, staring at the man wide eyed. 

“What? No? I mean why would I?” Harry spluttered. 

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious mate,” Ron said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. 

Harry handed the two their glasses and slumped his shoulders. “Is it obvious?” He asked, frowning. 

“I mean, we’ve known you since you were eleven, we’ve seen how you were with Cho, and Ginny, and even George,” Hermione said and Ron shuddered. 

“Don’t remind me of that,” he mumbled. 

“And you’ve always had a weird obsession with Malfoy,” she continued, elbowing her husband in the side. “It makes sense.”

“It does?” Ron asked, looking between his two friends. 

“Well of course it does, it could be one of the reasons why Harry has been so happy these last few years,” Hermione reasoned, taking a sip of her firewhiskey. 

“Well, don’t worry, nothing is going to happen between Draco and I. He’s definitely not interested.” Harry sat across from the two and crossed his legs. 

“He looked interested,” Hermione said.

Ron looked at her. “Did you not see how fast he ran out of here? Are you sure about that?” 

“Honestly, Ronald, he ran out of here because  of us,” Hermione huffed.

Harry let out a sigh and rested his face in his hands. He was going to lose his mind. 

….

“I can’t believe you ran out of my rooms like a Hufflepuff last night,” Harry said with a sigh, falling onto the couch in Draco’s office. “I was stuck dealing with both of them questioning me for the rest of the night.”

Draco looked up from the potions essays he was grading and frowned. “Why were they questioning you?”

Harry let out an awkward laugh. “Well, uh, funny thing is, they thought that we were er, together.”

Draco slowly set down his quill and smirked. “Together, huh? Cute.”

“Shut up, Prat.”

“I don’t think you’d be able to handle being with me,” Draco said, a small smirk still on his face.

“Trust me, I’ve been handling you just fine as it is, if we were in a relationship my life would probably be a lot easier,” Harry said with a shrug. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Of course, Molly would stop hinting at me that I needed to get back together with Ginny, Ron and Hermione would stop trying to hook me up with random Ministry friends, and best of all, I’d have you in my bed. I’d say it wouldn’t be too horrible,” Harry finished, kicking his feet up onto the couch. Draco came around his desk and walked towards Harry before he looked down at him. 

“You’d want me in your bed? Is that right?” He asked and Harry gave him a sly smile. “Where did you get this confidence?”

“Ron and Hermione encouraged me,” Harry told him.

“Well, then what exactly are we doing in my office?”

A slow smile grew on Harry’s face. Draco pulled him off of the couch and took Harry’s hand in his and dragged him out of the office. “We’re going to get caught,” Harry laughed. 

“We won’t, don’t worry Potter,” Draco said before they rushed up the stairs and went straight to Harry’s rooms. 

Draco laid his head on Harry’s chest. “So we’re doing this?” He asked, running his hand up and down Harry’s side. 

“Yeah, I think we are,” he murmured. 

“Can we keep it quiet for a while?” Draco asked, tilting his head back to look at Harry. “As much as I enjoy this, I have to admit, I still have fun making everyone think we hate one another.”

“You just like to yell at me in front of people,” Harry joked, kissing the top of his head. 

“That too,” Draco said, smiling.

1 year later

“I heard that Professor Malfoy and Professor Potter are dating,” a third year Hufflepuff, Molly whispered to her Defense partner. 

Harry smiled and leaned down between the two girls. “What makes you think that?” He whispered. 

“Oh, uh, Professor Potter,” she said awkwardly. 

“How about we get back to working on our freezing spells?” He suggested before waltzing up to the front to watch everyone work on the spell. 

“Rodger, no stinging hexes! Five points from Slytherin,” he said. 

Later when Harry walked into his rooms, he found Draco glaring at him in his bedroom. “Five points for a stinging hex?” He demanded, pinching Harry’s side. “What happened to not taking points for stupid reasons!”

“He cast a stinging hex! It wasn’t even his partner that he cast it on!” Harry said, smacking his boyfriend’s hands away from him. “Why are you being grumpy?” He demanded. 

“Because, Potter, one of my students saw this!” He exclaimed, pulling the scarf off of his neck and showing a large love bite. 

Harry smirked. “You weren’t mad when I left it on your neck this morning,” he said, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist. “So it’s fine, just use a glamour tomorrow. Now, I’m tired, it’s nearly midnight, I’ve been grading and I’m ready to change into something comfier.”

“Do you know how many questions I got about it?” Draco demanded as the two of them changed into their pyjamas. 

“It’s fine, we’re going to have to go public eventually,” Harry said, pushing Draco onto his bed and straddling him. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, lately.”

“Thinking about what?” Draco questioned, staring up at the man. 

“I think it’s time for us to come out and be public,” Harry said, taking Draco’s hands in his. “I mean, all of our friends and family know, and just because we’re together doesn’t mean that we need to stop harassing each other. I’m still going to call you a prat when you’re picking on students.”

“What do you think people would say?”

Harry hummed. “I don’t think it truly matters,” he said, giving Draco a soft kiss. “I just want to hold your hand during mealtimes and sit with you during quidditch matches.”

Draco pursed his lips for a moment. “I think I can handle that,” he said. He gave Harry a soft kiss just as someone knocked on the door to Harry’s quarters. “I’ve got it,” he said and kissed Harry again before he climbed off of Harry’s bed and answered the door.

“Harry, it’s a Gryffindor!” Draco called and Harry let out a whine. This wasn’t what he meant when he told Draco he was ready to come out.  

He went out to the front room and frowned when he saw the Gryffindor prefect, Aaron, sitting nervously on the couch with Leslie, a first year. “What’s going on?”

“I-I just miss my parents,” she sniffed, hugging what looked like Draco’s stuffed ferret to her chest. 

“I’ll get some tea,” Draco murmured. “I might have some Peace Draught lying around here somewhere.”

“Love, quit leaving your potions in my quarters,” Harry huffed before he sat next to Leslie. “How about we floo your parents?”

“Th-they’re muggles,” she sniffed, rubbing her eyes. Harry let out a hum and crossed his legs. 

“Well, that does put a damper on things, doesn’t it?” He mused and looked at the prefect, still staring at the men in shock. “Aaron, you can take a seat if you would like.”

Aaron slowly sat on the other side of Leslie just as Draco came back with a tray of teacups. 

“Miss Hay, your’s has some drops of Peace Draught in it, if that is okay with you,” he said.

“Thank you Professor Malfoy,” she said, taking the tea cup. 

“You’re welcome,” he said, a small smile on his face before he looked at Aaron. “It was a good call to ask for help, Mr. Evans. Professor Potter is excellent at calming down cowardly lions.” He carefully set the tray of tea on the small coffee table.

“Draco,” Harry chided before he put his attention back to the now calm little girl. “How about tomorrow, you and I will write a letter to your parents and set up a time for them to come and visit you?”

Leslie looked up at him wide eyed. “You can do that?” She asked. 

“Of course, I’m Harry Potter, I can do whatever I want,” he said with a small smile. 

“Prat,” Draco murmured, smacking the back of Harry’s head. “I’m heading back to bed, let me know if you need anything.”

He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips before he went back to Harry’s bedroom. 

“Well, how about the two of you finish your tea and I’ll take you back to your rooms?” Harry suggested, taking a sip of his own tea. 

“Are you and Professor Malfoy dating?” Aaron blurted before slapping a hand over his mouth. 

Harry gave the sixth year an amused smile. “Well, I’m not sure if that is really any of your business, is it?” He asked.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“Five points from Gryffindor for being nosey!” Draco called from Harry’s room. Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Five points to Gryffindor for helping out your fellow student,” he said, winking at Aaron. Once the little girl was calmed down, Harry walked the two Gryffindors back to their rooms before he returned to his own where Draco was already fast asleep. Harry smiled before he climbed into bed with him and kissed the side of the Slytherin’s head softly. Hopefully they wouldn’t wake up being the topic of everyone’s discussion.

*Note. I still want to write more in this universe so I’ll be writing more stories about it. This was mainly just setting it up, but I think it’s done for now. The final scene was inspired by this drarry post by @spielzeugkaiser.

Part two is now here 

[whatarubberchicken]

I Give Myself a Failing Grade

I Give Myself a Failing Grade

Miss Bustier had never been one for confrontation. It was her one great failing in life. Especially as a schoolteacher! People expected her to be able to make the children behave. Hell, she expected to be able to make her children behave.

So, when Mr. Damocles pulled her into his office before the first day of school and told her to send all the troublemakers to him immediately, for any and all punishments, all she felt was relief.

Of course, it was quickly replaced by a chill.

“But do NOT, under any circumstances, punish Miss Chloé Bourgeois,” he added, shaking his finger at her to emphasize the point.

Miss Bustier was lost. She was confused. And slightly offended.

“But, Mr. Damocles, isn’t it my job—”

“NO!” Mr. Damocles insisted.

“But, surely—”

“NO!!”

“But what if she—”

“NO!!!”

Miss Bustier snapped her mouth shut, her anger growing.

Mr. Damocles took a deep breath and settled his hands on his desk. “I know it isn’t fair,” he said slowly. “I know it isn’t right, and it certainly isn’t how we want things to be done around here. But you must understand my position! Mayor Bourgeois is deeply invested in the well-being of his daughter—”

“Then he should want her to get a proper education!” she exclaimed, disbelief surging through her veins.

Mr. Damocles sighed and looked around, as though afraid he might be overheard in his own office.

“Listen to me, Miss Bustier,” he said quietly. “As someone who has taught Miss Bourgeois before; she is not going to learn anything here at our school.”

“That’s not a good attitude to have!”

“But it’s the truth,” he insisted, still keeping his voice low. “Her father is paying us an exorbitant amount of money to simply make the appearance of teaching her, and he’s already bought out most of the school board. She needs to graduate with top grades just so we can keep this school open. It doesn’t matter if she’s earned them. I’m sure you’ve heard of her; that girl is going to coast through life on her father’s money and her mother’s fame, not from any actual accomplishments of her own.”

Suddenly, Miss Bustier felt a twinge of pity for the girl. “Still,” she said weakly. “Shouldn’t we at least try?”

“Chloé doesn’t want to try,” Mr. Damocles said, shaking his head. “I don’t even know why she wants to be here; probably just to lord her status over the other students. She could certainly afford tutors, but I’m willing to bet none of them were willing to pass her to her heart’s content. There’s even rumors that she convinced Gabriel Agreste’s son to enroll here; and if that happens our school will have more than enough funds to stay open…. Just—just play along. Give her the handouts, tell her what a good job she did on her projects, and try to keep her happy.”

Caline was silent for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” she finally said. “I thought this school was the best of the best. You have brilliant, genius-level minds, children of politicians and ambassadors, even child TV stars! And yet, you’re going to bend over backwards for one spoiled brat?!”

Mr. Damocles was silent. Miss Bustier shook her head.

“I can’t do it,” she said. “Give her to someone else. I won’t be a part of this… this hypocrisy!”

“I can’t,” Mr. Damocles said sadly. “The other teachers have all already refused. Mrs. Mendeliev nearly got us all fired last year when she gave the girl detention for throwing another’s girl notes on the floor.”

“I’m just supposed to let her bully other students?!” Miss Bustier cried, aghast.

“No, no, of course not. Just chastise her in a way that makes it look like you’re including the whole class.”

Miss Bustier stared at him in disgust and walked right out of the office.

.

Later, she’d met Miss Bourgeois.

There was only one word for the girl.

Awful.

She nearly considered handing in her resignation right then. But the reality of her situation had quickly caught up with her.

She really needed this job.

She needed to pay rent. She needed to eat.

And she very much doubted anyone would hire the teacher who got on the bad side of Mayor André Bourgeois. He was notorious for blacklisting people who angered him in any way. And his love for his daughter was just as widely known.

And she could do it, Miss Bustier reasoned. She could make sure Chloé Bourgeois stayed happy. Hell, in her own high school class, she’d been voted “Least Likely to Start a Fight.” Even as her stomach churned, her mind was playing with ways to turn bad situations into good ones. Or, at least make them sound good to one Daddy’s Little Princess.

The other students in the class still needed her, she reasoned. If she left and the school was dismantled, where would all of them go?

All she had to do was concentrate on teaching them, and keeping Miss Bourgeois happy. She didn’t actually have to teach her….

This could work. She could do this.

And really, would it be so bad to be on the good side of the mayor?

…

Then, on that very first day. She’d failed.

Her very first punishment.

And suddenly, her student had turned into a raging monster.

She’d done that.

She’d given him that last push.

Instead of having Ivan talk it out with his classmate, instead of allowing them to shake hands and put it all behind them, she’d taken the easy way out. She’d had taken Mr. Damocles up on his offer to take care of all the misbehavers.

And she’d had to watch in horror as her students were attacked by a monster.

She didn’t blame Ivan. His file had said he was still learning to control his anger. But at least he was trying.

She hadn’t even tried. She hadn’t even attempted to hear his side of the story.

The result? A foothold for Hawkmoth to sink his hooks into an innocent child.

The appearance of Ladybug and Chat Noir was all that kept her from crying her eyes out all night long. This was her punishment for giving up and selling out, she just knew it was! She’d failed the class. She’d failed her own dreams and aspirations! But no… she had to stay strong. She still had a classroom full of terrified students. It was her job to take care of them.

And for next few months, she’d watched in despair as, one by one, each of them surrendered to the supervillain. Soon, her nights were spent frantically reading yoga and meditation books—ways to clear your mind and take control of your emotions. She started new programs in class—forcing all of them to do it was the only way to make sure Chloé participated. But every time she had to look away from Chloé’s bullying (yes, she’d seen the bubblegum incident, but Marinette had handled it with such grace and poise! That girl was going places!) or scold someone for blaming all of the supernatural problems on Chloé (even though about half the akumas were actually her fault, or at least related to something she’d done, those were just facts), she felt her heart shrivel up and die just a little bit more.

Just once, she prayed. Just once, let her have a heart. Let her see the pain she’s causing. Make her care!!

She supposed that was her own undoing as Zombizou.

She’d just really wanted to make that brat care for once.

But she’d failed.

She’d wanted to take Marinette and hug her; let her know how her own heart had been crushed by the callous defacing of such painstaking craftsmanship. The little bag had been lovely. So thoughtful and sweet, and perfectly Marinette.

It wasn’t fair for Chloé to take that away from her. But--she tried to spin it in a good light--it didn’t take away from the love Marinette had put into it already. If anything, it meant more. Chloé knew how good Marinette’s talent was. She saw her as a threat.

Miss Bustier had meant it, when she said she’d think of them both. But she certainly wouldn’t be seeing them in the same light. She’d be seeing the careful, hard work and dedication of Marinette, whose consideration shone through everything; even if it was defaced. And she’d see the ugly scrawling of Chloé, who still couldn’t create anything on her own. She could only destroy others.

She’d intended to hold them both close, savoring one and silently mocking the other.

But she’d even failed in conveying her own thoughts to her prize pupil!

We can have such pure intentions, Marinette, she’d wanted to say in the hallway. And they’ll still get sullied by others no matter how hard we fight.

It was scarily similar to her own career as a teacher.

She started off wanting to help others. To bring just a little more light and beauty into the world by helping the brightest and cleverest of students to bloom.

Now, some days, she wondered if she wasn’t doing more harm than good, letting Chloé have her way all the time.

And Hawkmoth… Hawkmoth had sensed that, and had offered her the one power she’d desired above all else. The power to make Chloé care.

She’d utterly failed all of her own morals that day.

She still felt awful for the trauma Paris had had to endure because of Zombizou.

Ladybug had saved her; had healed all of Paris once again. But it hadn’t helped much against the doubts in Caline’s own heart.

She wasn’t some miracle teacher, much as she wanted to be. Most of her students had already been akumatized; some more than once!

She would never be a hero.

She could only muddle along in this infested swamp of a school, trying desperately to fish out a few sparkling gems.

But Marinette. Marinette had called her the “best teacher ever.” Marinette still believed in her, still tried to help her, both in and out of the classroom. She was beautiful. She was bright. She continued to be a leader; to believe in right and wrong, and fight for it.

And if someone like that could believe in her… well, maybe this teacher wasn’t a completely lost cause.

And really, you can only fail if you quit.

Caline Bustier held her head up high (remembering all too well how most of her students had slouched into class after their own transformations, unwilling to look anyone in the eye) and kept her voice steady and cheerful.

“Morning, everyone!”

“Morning, Miss Bustier!” they chorused back, just the same as ever.

She smiled. “Glad to see you all. Now….”

And with that, she started the class. After all, they all had so much to learn. Herself most of all.

[keenerparkerstark]

All I see is green (7/?)

Ship: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Summary: Peter Parker feels on top of the world! Getting good grades in high school, spending time with Tony Stark (!!!) on his weekends, and at night, he roams the city as the hero known as Spider-Man! Everything changes when a new student shows up at Midtown who seems determined to take it all away from him.

AO3 | FF.net It did not take long for Mr. Stark, Harley and Peter to fall into an almost familiar rhythm together. They moved around the lab gracefully, passing around tools at each other’s slightest of whims, and barely spoke as they worked diligently. Mr. Stark and Peter were both bent over the Spider-Man suit, whispering and humming as they worked on their respective tasks, and Harley had crawled under the hood of one of Mr. Stark’s more neglected cars, switching out the engine in what had to be a record time, in Peter’s uneducated opinion.

They must have been a few hours in their work session when Harley’s phone disturbed the flow by ringing obnoxiously.

“Please, excuse me,” Harley muttered absentmindedly, dropping his tools on the tray next him and taking the phone out of his back pocket. Neither Mr. Stark nor Peter missed the little grin that appeared on his face as he recognised the caller and picked up quickly. He walked out of the lab to take the call, but not before the others heard him say: “Hi, Flash!” Oh… Peter turned back to the web shooter he was fine-tuning and tried to ignore the drop of his stomach.

Mr. Stark hummed in thought. “Flash? Is that the kid you mentioned-”

“It’s nothing,” Peter interjected firmly. His issues with Flash were his own. It would be unfair to turn Mr. Stark against a boy he had never even met before, especially since that boy was Harley’s best friend. He had told Mr. Stark about Flash before, when questions arose around the fresh bruises on Peter’s arm. He still remembered the way Mr. Stark’s reflection turned from anger to furiousness when Peter explained that he did not play hooky in order to go on patrol during school time, but instead was repeatedly thrown into walls and lockers as he walked down the hallway. Mr. Stark had demanded the kid’s name, and Peter had given in but not before he made Mr. Stark swear not to do or say anything. “I can take it,” he remembered pleading, “if you make him stop, he might start harassing somebody who is decidedly less equipped to take it.” Mr. Stark had reluctantly given in, because God knows that man would be a first-class hypocrite if he got on Peter’s case about being self-sacrificing, on the condition that Pete would be honest with him if it got any worse. Peter, of course, hadn’t.

“Peter, is Harley friends with the kid who used to bully you?” ‘Used to’, Peter mentally scoffed.

“Mr. Stark,” he replied firmly. “Whoever Harley is or is not friends with is respectfully none of our business.” Mr. Stark looked taken aback by Peter’s bluntness, not used to hearing such seemingly unprompted defiance from the teen.

“Dully noted,” he responded, keeping his eyes on Peter as the latter turned back to his web shooter. A silence fell over the pair once again, before it was broken once more by Mr. Stark’s voice, uncharacteristically quiet.

“I know I’ve broken your trust over the past week,” he spoke carefully, as if weighing every word before letting it leave his lips. “And I know I haven’t done nearly enough to make up for it. I also know you’ve probably already forgiven me a long time ago, despite what you may be telling your Aunt May, because your self-preservation skills are arguably worse than mine. I know you feel let down by me not informing you about Harley and his arrival. I know you feel like I don’t trust you, and yet demand of you to trust me. I understand that that level of trust takes time to be build back up again.” Peter felt warmth bubble up in his chest and a familiar burning sensation behind his eyes. Mr. Stark saw straight through him. Although he seemed to be missing one detail… “But Peter, I ask only one thing of you in the meantime. Be honest. Either to me or your aunt. We need to know what’s happening in your life, kid. I know you like to protect everyone around you, but God knows we want to keep you safe just as badly, okay? Talk to us.”

Peter could only nod as he furiously wiped as his eyes, stubborn tears spilling over onto his cheeks. At that moment, the door to the lab opened back up again and Harley stepped back inside, grin on his face.

“Tony, I have a favour to ask- Woah, is everything okay?” Harley felt the smile slip off his face as he noticed Tony’s serious expression and Peter’s red-rimmed eyes. The latter nodded and turned back to his project, whilst Tony nodded and scraped his throat.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Harley shook his head a little. Not for him to know, then. He ignored the slight twinge of… something… in his chest at the reminder that Tony and Peter had such a strong emotional connection and focussed on his mission.

“Ah, not much. My friend called me to ask if I wanted to come to a party he’s hosting this weekend,” he replied, unable to stop the grin from spreading across his face at the memory, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “Apparently, it’s his birthday this week, and he invited the whole year group to come over and hang out at his place!” Tony grinned back at Harley, but behind him, Peter’s movements stilled for a split second, before resuming as if nothing had happened.

“That sounds fun! I’m glad you’re already making friends,” he responded, turning back to the Spider-Man suit as well. “Do you know if there will be alcohol involved?”

“I don’t know,” Harley responded honestly, “I don’t really know these people, what they’re like in that regard.” He picked up a tool and twirled it around in his hand, eyeing the car with scrutiny.

“Pete, you must know, right? What are the Midtown parties like?” Harley glanced over his shoulder to see Peter shrug in response to Tony.

“Fuck if I know,” he muttered, bending even further over his work. Tony gave him a light shove, which didn’t seem to affect Peter at all.

“Mind your language, kid! What’s gotten into you?” At Peter’s lack of response, Tony’s head cocked as if realising something, and he leaned in close to Peter, whispering something Harley couldn’t catch. Peter simply shook his head in response, and Tony sighed, backing away. Harley watched them for a moment, before clearing his throat.

“I’ll be responsible, Tony,” he emphasised. “I’ll stay away from any alcohol, and I’ll call you if I want to leave, okay?” Tony looked up from his work and offered Harley a wide smile.

“I know, Harles.” Harley nodded and smiled back. Both men resumed their respective tasks, neither noticing Peter’s eye roll, and the comfortable silence returned.  

It’s incredible, really. The bustling nature of New York City, with its screaming, ever busy and hurrying inhabitants, it’s loud, honking cars and pigeon shit, so in-your-face and unavoidable. Yet it all faded into background noise when Peter was swinging. The feeling of the breeze on his face, and the roaring wind in his ears was all-encompassing, yet freeing, allowing Peter to take a break from his overactive senses to just exist.

“Hey, Spider-Man! Over here!” Well, ideally, that is…

Peter’s head snapped in the direction from where the sound came, a dingy alley way, and instantly changed course. The person who called him over did not appear to be in distress, but Peter wasn’t in a hurry. No harm done if he made a pitstop to talk to a Spider-Fan. Peter cringed at his own thoughts. For nothing other than dramatic effect, he decided to stick to the wall before rounding the corner into the alley way. From his position, just slightly overhead, he noticed that the person calling out to him was none other than Flash Thompson, who, if his frantic looking around was anything to go by, had completely lost track of Peter after calling him over. Peter decided to crawl across the wall until his face was mere inches from Flash’ neck before speaking up.

“You called?”

The resulting scream sounded like a dog’s squeaking toy, and Peter couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out in response. Flash turned around, dramatically clutching his chest, panting. He dropped his hands the second he registered who was across from him and took a deep breath, smoothing his hair and letting a sly smirk appear on his face.

“Hello, Spider-Man, I’m glad you’ve come.” Peter dropped to stand on the pavement in front of Flash as a show of seriousness. As intended, it spurred the latter on to resume talking.

“Uh, I was actually wondering if, uh… Would you like to come to my birthday party this weekend?” Under his mask, Peter’s eyebrows shot up. For a kid of a CEO, he is very bad at diplomacy.

“Your… birthday party,” Peter responded slowly, letting his voice modulator do its work. “Birthday… Wait, who are you again? Am I supposed to know you?” Peter is not proud of the satisfaction he felt when he saw Flash’ smile falter.

“Uh, maybe? My name’s Flash, I’m… You’ve saved my life, actually. You… you stole my dad’s… You know what, forget I said anything.” Flash turned around to walk away and Peter was surprised to find the satisfaction had grown heavy and now sat like a pit of guilt in his stomach. Oh, why did Ben and May raise me to be decent…

“Wait up!” Flash turned around to face Peter again, the look on his face still dejected. “I, I was just messing with you, Flash, of course I remember you!” The frown on Flash’ face turned into a blinding smile. “However… You gotta know, man, Spider-Man is not a party trick. You can’t book me, I’m not a clown-”

“No, I know,” Flash interjected. “I know, but I just…” He looked down. “There’s this guy I like… I’m trying to impress him, and I know he’s a big Spider-Man fan, and I’m hoping that seeing you there, and seeing us interact might-”

“You know what, fine,” Peter jumped in. “I can’t stay long. I’ll pop in, have a chat with you and I’m out, okay? I have better things to be doing.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Flash was practically jumping up and down with excitement. “Just in and out, that’s totally cool. Thank you so much, man!” Peter shook his head, envisioning Harley’s grin when he had come back from his phone call with Flash. He looked so happy. And if Peter can help him maintain that happiness… Well, he had something to make up for anyway. Peter sighed and jumped up against the wall again, crawling upwards, but not before turning around to Flash one last time.

“I’ve gotta be honest with you, man,” he spoke into the echoing alley. “If you want this guy to like you, just be yourself, okay?” Flash turned bright red and Peter turned around, vaulting himself onto the roof and off, slinging away.

[siempre-pedro]

My Kid Punched His Kid|2|

Single Dad!Teacher!Ben Hardy x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: A playground fight between two 8-year-olds bring together 2 lonely single parents. 

In This Chapter: More back story and Ben and Reader interactions. SO MUCH TEACHER BEN. Rejoice!

Word Count: 2k

A/N: The response to a part 2 was overwhelming and so positive! Thank you thank you!!!!! Please comment and let me know what you think :D  Part 3 is on its way

Taglist is open!

Y/N grimaced to self as she walked down the produce aisle of the local grocery store, half-heartedly throwing apples in a plastic bag. Today was just the worst in her mind. Normally it was fine, a few hours in the office and a few hours at home while Abby had school. It was the fact that she couldn’t shut up about Mr. Jones. Y/N grimaced and threw the apples in the cart “Ouch!” Abby yelped from inside the cart.

Y/N snapped out of it and looked down at her grumpy face “Sorry, Abs.”

“Mommy, were you listening?”

“Yeah yeah. You and Mary played on the playground.”

Abby cocks her head and her small lips form a frown in disappointment “No,” she deadpans. “Mr. Jones is talking about our class field trip.”

“Baby do we have to talk about him?” Y/N this time carefully places the head of lettuce next to her daughter.

“I like him. He’s nice.”

Y/N turns her back and rolls her eyes “At least one of us thinks so,” she mutters under her breath. The women continue through the store, every so often Abby mentions her teacher making her mothers blood boil. Suddenly Abby looks up from the tablet and stares at Y/N with wide eyes “What?” she asks worriedly, stopping the cart in the middle of the store.

“We forgot cereal, you promised we’d get Lucky Charms!” Abby announces loudly. Y/N sighs in relief and nods calmly, turning the cart around.

“You’re right, I did,” she replies, calming down from the mild panic attack.

She turns the corner and looks down at a new work notification on her phone. Abby signaled to stop and when she reached up to grab the box a hand was already on the other side. Y/N’s eyebrows knit together. Her gaze turns from the masculine hand and at its owner.

“Fucking hell,” she curses.

“It’s good to see you too,” Ben smirks. Fuck that smirk he does when his tongue ever so lightly drags along his lower lip. She hated it. That was a lie, she loved it.  The adults look back at the cereal box they were still holding onto like children fighting over a toy. It was the last box.

Y/N was the first to pull away to cross her arms “Take it,” she spats.

“No, no, Abby looks disappointed,” Ben rejects, pointing to Abagail’s puppy dog pout. Y/N turns and gives her a warning look.

“No. Take it, Ben.”

“Y/N I insist. It’s all yours.”

They look at each other with daggers in their eyes, Ben was getting fed up. He takes the box and holds it up “Take the fucking box!” he shouts out of frustration. Y/N’s subconscious kicks in when she sees the strong grip he has on the crumpled red box. She flinches and cowers away, taking a step away from him, fear took over. Ben saw the fear, his own face softened. “Y/N? I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It's fine! B-Ben it’s fine. Take it,” She interrupts holding a hand up to him, still trying to stand strong. She shakingly turns and rushes away.

“Momma?”

“We have to go, Abagail,” she hushes.

Ben watches her race out of the aisle, his brows knit together in confusion. He places the box in his cart and runs a hand through his hair. He started to worry about her, shit he was starting to care for a woman that screamed at him the day they met. It was just the weirdest shift in behavior he’d ever seen. “James?” he calls, bringing himself out of the ocean of thoughts. The curly blond boy looks over and puts the box of oatmeal down and skips to his dad.

“Yeah?” he chirps.

“Let’s go bub. We have to get ready for school.”

James looks down at his green dinosaur watch “It’s only 6,” he looked up at his dad with a frown. Ben shot him a look and ushered him along. Tomorrow would be a long day.

Ben eagerly awaited the next morning, fidgeting in his chair before fixing the already perfectly aligned papers on the kid's desk. When the ring of the bell sounded he rubbed his nervous palms. The wheels were turning in his head on how he’d confront her. As the kids piled in he tried his best to be his normal joyous self, but his green eyes kept glued to the door.

“Hi, Mr. Jones!” Abby’s cheerful voice sounds as she enters eventually. Her purple jelly shoes lightly squeak as she rushes to her cubby. The blond frowns when he doesn’t see Y/N, even missing her scowl when she lays eyes on him.

“Abby! You mom didn’t bring you?” He questions.

“No, she had to be at work early. Aunt Lucy brought me,” she answers quickly, jetting by him to take her seat. He sighs and lets the kids take their seats, early waiting to get on with the day. Ben had thought hard about his morning project. It was mostly for personal gain, he knew he couldn’t directly ask Y/N what her home life was like without his ear being screamed off.

“Alright kids, since we’re still getting to know everyone we’re going to draw and write about our family,” he starts, pinning a piece of paper on the board “This here is my house,” he points to the decently drawn picture “and inside is me, my son James and our dog Frankie. I want you to draw your family. Take out our pencil boxes and get creating.”

Ben slowly made his way around to all the kids, crouching down to their level as they explained their families. He tried not to laugh at a few of the drawings, they were trying their best. Anticipating the back row he finally stood next to Abby’s desk and looked at her drawing. She was actually pretty talented, her people looked like people but there was a big black blob next to what he assumed was her “What’s that there Abby?” He asks kindly, touching the black blob that was thankfully done in crayon and not a marker.

She gasps “It’s not done!” She picks up her black crayon and draws two small triangles at the top of the blob. “That’s my dog Sampson, he’s a black lab,” she explains with a large smile.

“Well done. So let’s see, we have you, your mom, and Sampson?” he wonders. She nods excitedly.

“Where’s your dad?” There he did it! God, he was so proud of himself.

Without missing a beat she responds “I don’t have one. Mommy doesn’t like to talk about it.” Ben’s smile starts to fade as he could see her bright smile dim. The brit places a hand on the girls arm and rubs it comfortingly.

“You have a beautiful family Abs. Your mom and Sampson love you very much,” he tells her. She smiles and looks at his drawing up on the board, they were so similar she thinks. It gave her a little more confidence in her small little family.

“James and Frankie love you too,” she tells him. He pats her arm one last time and continues his round before the writing assignment, it was a simple 2 paragraphs of information he needed to know about the single mother. After writing ‘neat handwriting’ on the board boldly, he took his seat behind his desk and waited.

Time had passed and the kids one by one handed in their papers to him before lining up for lunch and recess. Ben took the alone time to pull out a lightly crumpled red box out of one of his storage bins and places it along with a small note inside Abagail’s backpack. Of course, he does try to be somewhat productive, deciding to put all the drawings and papers on the wall as decoration.

When the man gets to Abby’s he pauses and looks away having second thoughts about reading it. Maybe he could actually get a chance to get to know her, he nods along with his thoughts and just staples it to the wall and only reads the part about her dog and grandparents.

The day came to an end, Y/N looked like a woman on a mission as she entered with a few of the parents. No small talk, just grab the girl and go! “Abagail, let’s go,” she whispers, trying to blend in with everyone so Ben doesn’t notice her. Realizing quickly that she did decide to wear a short mustard yellow dress, but it did have her favorite bell sleeves so that it looked like she had wings…it made her daughter smile every time so it was fine. Abby grabbed her backpack and latched onto Y/N’s hand as she raced them out of the room.

But it wasn’t long after she left before Ben could hear the loud and prominent clicking of Y/N heels marching towards his room “What the hell is your problem Jones!” she scolds loudly as she slams the door behind her.

“Uh James, go see if Nurse Katie needs help with her bandaids,” he shoos off his own child before they had a brawl in the middle of a 3rd grade classroom. James nods and quickly leaves the room.

“Now what can I help you with Ms. Y/L/N?” He smirks, leaning back on his desk. Y/N’s face turns red with anger, still cute he thinks of her.

“Don’t act all innocent! You but that stupid box of cereal in her backpack, you should have left it,” she seethed, walking closer to him. All he can do is smirk at her, placing his hands in his pockets unbothered.

“It meant a lot to her, Y/N,” he reminds her calmly.

“I can afford it if that’s what you think of me,” she retorts turning her back to him to look around, she really didn’t want to see his face. Her gaze lands on the wall with the families, Abby was the only one that looked different. Tears start to well up, she hated Abby having to feel different.

“That’s not what I think of you, you’re just really fucking stubborn,” he laughs.

“Did you so this because of me too?” She blinks back the tears and turns to look at him.

Ben rolls his eyes “Not everything I do is about you,” he sighs.

“Really? The past few days have told me differently.”

Ben peels himself away from his desk and walks over to her “I am a teacher and I want to get to know my students.” His voice fills with more annoyance. She hums in a disproving tone. “What that answer not good enough for you?”

“No. You don’t get to do this,” she points a finger at him, their eyes locking in a bitter stare down.

“Do what?”

“Start a fight. I came in here to yell at you,” she scoffs.

Ben snorts and licks his lips “You’re in my territory now, Love,” he winks and walks away smoothly.

Y/N breaths heavily and clenches her fists “Please, just no more stuff in her bag. If I see one more fucking box in her bag I’ll report you.”

Ben laughs at the empty threat “I’ll be sure not to, Ms. Y/L/N,” he answers her almost mockingly, but it was also low and seductive enough to catch her attention.

“Have a good day, Mr. Jones.” Y/N forces out a half ass smile before exiting. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and dialed Lucy “I need you to watch Abby tonight, please. I really need a drink,” she pleads when her friend picks up.

“Oh? What did hot teacher do this time?”

“Lucy!”

“Fine, fine. But you need to watch Mary so Rami and I can go out Friday,” she reasons.

“Fine,” Y/N bites her lip “See you tonight.” She hangs up the phone and exits the school, cursing his name the whole time.

Ben took a seat in his chair and leaned back, rubbing his face and letting out a loud groan “God that woman. I just wanted to reason with her. Fuck, I need a drink,” he says to himself. He pulls out his phone and sends a text to his favorite confidant Gwilym ‘Will you watch James tonight?? I need a drink, probably 10.’ 

Taglist: if you have been crossed out Tumblr will not let me tag you! Im so sorry

@florenceivy//@everybodyplaythegame//@jalcolmjeed//@itstonimydudes// @sunshine112// @virtualsheepeat//@ixchel-9275//

[boydeviil]

{   LORENZO   ZURZOLO   ,   CIS   MALE   ,   HE   /   HIM   }   way   out   here   in   the   ozarks   ,   i’d   never   expect   to   find   PARKER   MURPHY   ,   the   TWENTY   year   old   PART   TIME   BARTENDER   /   STUDENT   at   the   SILK   AND   SATIN   /   COMMUNITY   COLLEGE   .   on   the   afternoon   of   september   4th   ,   HE   was   WITH   FRIENDS   AT   CRESCENT   INK   but   i’m   not   sure   i   believe   a   word   they   say   .

hm   ...   f   -   finally   ?   hi   i’m   bailey   &   i’m   kind   of   a   piece   of   garbage   ,   but   i   mean   well   uwu   .   this   is   very   bare   minimum   as   much   as   it   pains   me   ,   someone   who   writes   like   novels   if   not   stopped   ,   but   i   really   wanted   to   get   it   out   so   sacrifices   had   to   be   made   (   i   ..   say   this   as   if   i   still   didn’t   go   over   1k   lmao   anywsgdfhdhnf   )

PINTEREST   /   primarily   blood   tw   ,   minor   smoking   +   food/drink   tw   .   also   ,   mentions   of   death   ,   blood   ,   very   briefly   food   ,   smoking   &   underage   drinking   in   intro   !!   nothing   too   descriptive   ,   but   still   there

—   ASSOCIATED   AESTHETICS   .

blood   -   stained   teeth   cracked   wide   in   a   mirthful   grin   as   loud   laughter   rings   out   .   fake   id   cards   tucked   neatly   in   a   shoe   box   ,   ready   to   replace   each   other   after   confiscation   .   holding   up   cigarettes   to   angel   statues   .   sneaking   alcohol   in   between   bible   pages   ,   in   coke   cans   ,   anywhere   .   blood   under   your   nails   but   you   aren’t   sure   where   it   came   from   .   nihilistic   tendencies   as   a   coping   mechanism   .

—   ASSOCIATED   TROPES   .

it   amused   me   .   honor   among   thieves   .   cool   people   rebel   against   authority   .   clandestine   chemistry   .   troubled   ,   but   cute   .

—   QUICK   STORY   .

prideful   and   stubborn   ,   thinking   yourself   on   top   of   the   world   for   no   good   reason   .   from   a   young   age   ,   you   believed   that   you   could   be   untouchable   if   you   put   your   mind   to   it   .   always   the   rambunctious   boy   on   the   playground   ,   spinning   tales   to   your   classmates   and   creating   schemes   which   landed   you   on   the   dreaded   timeout   wall   ,   everyone   either   flocked   to   you   or   steered   clear   .   understandable   ,   you   would   think   as   you   grew   up   .   you   were   an   acquired   taste   ,   and   that’s   something   you   took   satisfaction   in   .   your   mom   soon   found   scolding   only   spurred   you   on   more   ;   negative   attention   is   still   attention   ,   a   terrible   mindset   to   have   ,   but   what   you   adapted   .   tough   love   is   evident   in   your   posture   ,   the   way   you   speak   ,   it’s   what   you   know   .   what   many   thought   to   be   a   boyish   phase   didn’t   change   as   you   got   older   .   if   anything   ,   it   got   worse   .   your   schemes   elevated   ,   all   for   the   risk   .   all   eyes   on   you   .   it’s   like   a   heightened   middle   child   syndrome   ,   some   could   say   .   you   aren’t   sure   if   you   can   disagree   or   not   ,   but   you   would   sooner   bite   your   tongue   and   swallow   the   blood   than   admit   it   .   the   more   phone   calls   to   your   mom   ,   the   more   frustrated   with   you   she   became   .   understandable   ,   you   think   again   .   however   ,   you   didn’t   stop   .   like   always   ,   it   grew   with   you   ;   a   scab   you   couldn’t   quit   picking   ,   an   aching   tooth   you   kept   prodding   with   your   tongue   ,   bruises   you   kept   pressing   fingers   against   in   order   to   see   if   they   still   hurt   .   you   never   learned   .   not   how   they   wanted   you   to   ,   at   least   .

on   your   thirteenth   birthday   you   got   a   chemistry   set   —   your   mom   wasn’t   sure   if   it   was   worth   it   at   first   ,   knowing   you   spent   more   school   hours   in   suspension   than   in   a   classroom   ,   yet   the   way   your   eyes   lit   up   told   her   it   was   the   best   purchase   she   made   .   little   did   she   know   you   would   catch   small   fires   from   mixing   things   together   ,   because   you   were   bored   or   because   you   wanted   to   see   what   would   happen   ,   even   if   you   had   an   idea   of   the   possible   destruction   .   but   ,   despite   all   the   clashing   ,   your   mom   loved   you   .   you   know   she   did   or   else   she   wouldn’t   have   dealt   with   you   like   this   .   only   a   mother’s   love   could   adore   such   a   nightmare   like   you   .   as   a   teenager   ,   you   gained   a   more   notorious   reputation   .   in   and   out   of   the   local   police   station   ,   mostly   for   juvenile   crimes   ,   but   constantly   skating   on   thin   ice   .   we   all   die   one   day   ,   you   would   say   with   a   laugh   ,   let’s   have   interesting   stories   for   when   we’re   six   feet   under   .   despite   your   failings   ,   purposeful   or   not   ,   you   maintained   well   enough   grades   in   school   ;   specifically   in   sciences   .   chemistry   really   was   the   love   of   your   life   ,   next   to   unbridled   mischief   of   course   .

taking   a   break   year   after   high   school   graduation   ,   you   found   a   job   as   a   bartender   at   the   local   strip   club   .   it   wasn’t   what   you   wanted   to   do   for   the   rest   of   your   life   ,   though   it   was   good   to   pass   time   .   you   eventually   enrolled   in   the   community   college   for   chemistry   ,   but   it   still   left   you   feeling   restless   and   unfulfilled   ,   wanting   more   than   this   small   town   life   .   maybe   you   paid   too   much   attention   to   the   legacy   your   grandfather   left   (   perhaps   another   bad   mentality   of   yours   )   ,   or   simply   you   were   reading   too   many   comics   and   watching   too   many   crime   films   .   but   the   wild   idea   of   pharmaceutical   chemistry   for   an   ,   admittedly   ,   less   than   savory   gain   had   worked   its   way   into   your   head   a   few   times   .   no   one   knows   exactly   what   you   get   up   to   when   you   shut   them   out   to   mess   around   with   chemicals   ,   however   would   anyone   be   surprised   if   you   went   completely   off   the   rails   ?   the   answer   came   sooner   than   you   expected   ,   just   not   in   the   way   any   imagined   .

you   had   an   argument   with   your   mom   again   .   you   slammed   your   bedroom   door   like   a   child   ,   causing   your   out   -   grown   signs   to   rattle   at   the   impact   ,   angry   and   hurt   by   the   stinging   words   thrown   back   at   you   …   yet   again   too   prideful   and   stubborn   to   say   it   .   she   loves   you   ,   you   reminded   yourself   .   she   wants   what’s   best   for   you   .   and   the   bullshit   you   kept   pulling   ?   not   it   .   if   she   wasn’t   so   well   liked   ,   you   were   almost   certain   you’d   been   kicked   from   college   before   finishing   .   you   didn’t   mean   it   ,   you   didn’t   mean   what   you   said   —   you   never   do   ,   do   you   ?   words   come   out   hot   and   hastily   before   your   brain   can   stop   them   .   sometimes   you   can   blame   the   booze   you   stole   ,   most   times   you   can’t   .   when   she   turned   up   ,   dead   ,   you   felt   sick   and   violently   so   .   your   nihilism   turned   itself   up   in   order   to   protect   you   .   we   all   die   one   day   ,   your   own   words   echo   back   in   your   head   .   it’s   maddening   ,   and   you   just   have   to   cope   . 

how   do   you   cope   ?   you   aren’t   sure   .

—   QUICK   FACTS   /   HEADCANONS   .

place   of   birth   :   veritas   ,   missouri date   of   birth   :   august   8th   ,   1957 astrology   :   leo   sun   ,   sagittarius   moon   ,   gemini   rising   ,   aries   midheaven

positives   :   confident   ,   innovative   ,   steadfast   ,   fun   -   loving negatives   :   impish   ,   discontented   ,   boisterous   ,   intense

mbti   :   entp enneagram   :   type   8

romantic   orientation   :   demi   -   biromantic sexual   orientation   :   bisexual

dog   person   !!   would   absolutely   get   tackled   by   a   police   dog   and   be   like   omg   what’s   their   name

has   an   eyebrow   scar   cause   that’s   cool   ,   right   ?

favorite   flavor   combo   is   cherry   &   vanilla   ,   but   mint   &   chocolate   is   close

honestly   that   one   kid   in   class   who   makes   the   teacher   go   “   i’ll   wait   ”

a   nightmare   luv   …   but   he’s   trying   to   keep   his   vibe   …   acts   like   he   doesn’t   care   ,   actually   cares   a   lot

uhhh   i   project   this   onto   so   many   of   my   characters   ,   i’ll   admit   it   .   but   like   ,   he   has   gotten   a   nosebleed   after   stepping   into   church   before   jdfhbjdhnf

big   “   god   has   a   lot   to   answer   for   ”   energy

[taesthetes]

the duality of man.

Once again, soft boys with pretty smiles—specifically one named Park Jimin—will surely be the death of you.

pairing: park jimin x reader genre: fluff type: college au word count: 4,632 words warnings: none author’s note: based on a true story — except he was my marketing project partner and not on the dance team but we’re great buds now lmao i’m never gonna let him live this down

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Group projects are the worst. You would rather shove a cactus up your behind or rip out a dry tampon than partake in one of those again. Hell has places designated for professors who assign those grade crushers. However, there is an even more special spot reserved for the heathens who assign random students to a group.

Because here you are, sitting in the library and tapping the end of your pen against your notebook absentmindedly, as you wait for your group members to show up. Your friends all said Basic Drawing was a good, fairly easy class to take to check off your lower division art requirement. What they did not tell you was that there was a group project focusing on frame by frame drawing animation with the minimum of one hundred frames that was worth forty percent of your grade.

You are quite certain Kim Taehyung is not going to show up, purely based on the fact that you saw him do several keg stands last night. Hungover is never a good look on anybody, and everyone on campus knows that Taehyung would not be caught dead looking like a two on a beauty scale of one to ten. As for the freshman in your group—Jeon Jungkook, was it? —you passed by him earlier today, and he gave you his sketchbook, mumbling something about drawing out some of his ideas in there and that he will not be able to make it to the meeting because of an impromptu football practice.

So, that really only leaves you with—

“Hey, ________.”

Park Jimin.

From what you know about him, he is a quiet one and is good friends with Taehyung but more on the wallflower side. Jimin greets you softly, and you give him a small smile in response. He slides into the chair across from you, pulling out his own drawing book and pencil.

“Tae can’t make it unfortunately,” Jimin says, and you nod in acknowledgement before replying, “Yeah, Jungkook gave me his notebook. He has football practice.”

You slide the notebook towards Jimin, who opens it and flips through the various drawings. “These are all really nice. Check out this hummingbird one.”

He flips the book towards you to give you a better look. “Oh, wow. That’s amazing.”

“You think we should do this one for the project?”

You hum quietly, contemplating. “Well, we can’t make Jungkook draw all one hundred frames of it, and it might be hard for the rest of us to replicate the bird. Maybe we can find each do separate animations with a connection?”

Jimin’s eyes light up as he nods enthusiastically. “That’s a good idea! I think Tae likes drawing nature best, so if Jungkook’s bird can fly around until it lands on a tree branch and we can zoom out from there to show a full landscape. Tae would be down for drawing that part.”

“But what about you? What do you want to draw?”

“Oh! Um...” Jimin is quiet, contemplating over his answer before answering quietly, cheeks reddening. “This might be a little weird, but... I like drawing mechanical things? Not just cars, but like old telephones and clocks and devices... and yeah...”

He trails off, and you give him a reassuring smile. “It’s not weird at all! That’s really cool! Those are always so detailed, and there are a lot of reflective surfaces, and those are never easy. You must be really good!”

Jimin brightens up, pulling out his own sketchbook. “Really? You think so? I’ve been drawing this toaster, and I thought it would be cool to do an animation of bread popping out of it, but Jungkook’s bird looks really pretty, and it’ll fit with Tae’s art better, too...”

“We can still include it!” Jimin gives you a curious look, and you quickly explain, “How about if the bread pops out from the toaster, but in a comical sort of way, like how in cartoons, the toaster looks like it’s being squeezed before the toast shoots out, and then a sunny side up egg is placed on the bread, but then we do a sort of rewind on the egg? The egg returns back into the cracked eggshells, which come together back into a solid egg, and then the egg cracks open, but a baby hummingbird pops out of it. I really like drawing food, so I can do the toast and egg part of it.”

Jimin is silent, mouth slightly agape, and you flush a little, rambling on. “I know it’s a little eccentric, but I think our professor will like it, and—”

“You’re a genius.”

Your cheeks warm up even more at his compliment. “I, uh, I—thank you?”

Jimin laughs, eyes turning into moon crescents, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. “You’re welcome, but really, that’s such a creative way to mix everyone’s strengths and just wow. Jungkook and Tae will love this.”

You smile widely. “You really think so?”

“Of course! And, um, since our parts of the animations are connected, do you want to work on them together?” Jimin shyly asks, fiddling with the ends of his scarf.

“Oh! Yes, of course, when are you free?”

“If you don’t have plans after this, we can work on them now?”

“Sounds great! I’m done with classes, so I’m free.”

You give him another smile, and he beams back at you brightly. Your heart skips a beat, and you internally chide yourself. Curse your heart for being so weak against soft boys with pretty smiles.

But you swear, something about this boy in particular makes you think that he will be the death of you.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You and Jimin manage to get through twenty of the frames needed that night and in the week’s class sessions, so he suggests meeting up in his and Taehyung’s shared dorm to work on the remaining ones on Thursday and Sunday evening. Taehyung would be busy with his play rehearsals around that time, so their room would be free. The two of you had already texted the group chat about the animation plans, and the others were quite enthusiastic about the idea. Taehyung had notified you all that he and Jungkook will work on their half of the project on Friday together.

You had finished all your Thursday classes for the day and made a stop at your dorm to collect your art supplies before making your way to Jimin’s dorm building. You are currently standing outside of the complex on the steps, texting Jimin to let you in. The sun was already beginning to set, and you can feel the weather getting chillier. You pull down the long sleeves of your shirt to cover your fingertips. You mentally chide yourself for not putting on an extra layer—Joy had warned you before you left your shared dorm, but you did not think it would be this cold.

“Hey, _______!” Jimin waves at you from the front door. You hurry over to him, the bag filled with art tools hitting against your side noisily, as the eighteen by twenty-four large drawing pad tucked clumsily under your arm nearly falls. Jimin quickly grabs the drawing pad, and you smile gratefully. “Thanks, Jimin.”

“No problem! Maybe next time, we should meet at your dorm—if that’s okay with you, I mean!” Jimin hurriedly adds, and you chuckle quietly. “That’s totally fine. My roommate won’t mind.”

“Great,” Jimin murmurs before stopping in front of an open door. “Well, uh, here’s my dorm. Feel free to sit anywhere! You can use Tae’s desk if you want—or mine! Either one is good!”

“Thanks, Jimin.” You set your items down carefully on the surface of Taehyung’s desk, which is surprisingly clean, compared to his art space you see every class. The two of you fall into a familiar groove as last time, one where Jimin draws his portions while you draw your solo frames of the eggs receding into the egg shells before cracking open once more. It may sound simple, but repeatedly drawing a realistic egg changing its position by a millimeter is tedious and quite frankly, a bit boring.

Last time, you and Jimin engaged in a game of twenty questions, but it ended up with thirty extra questions between the two of you. Amongst other things, you had learned that his favorite color was blue, he loves anything that is chocolate except for ice cream, he is a sucker for those Christmas Hallmark movies, and he still believes Candy Crush is the greatest game to ever exist, no matter what anyone says. He is a nursing major, hoping to become employed in the pediatric ward, and is minoring in studio arts with an emphasis in drawing, much like yourself. He also briefly mentioned being on the school’s dance team. You know your school has several dance teams, and although Jimin never specified, you can easily imagine him in ballet. You are not well versed in the types of dance, but from what you can remember when you saw The Nutcracker and Swan Lake as a child with your parents if that is anything to go by, Jimin would fit in with those elegant and graceful dancers.

“Do you mind if I put on some background music?” Jimin says, and you shake your head. “Go for it.”

The melodic, soothing notes of the piano fill the air before a lilting voice accompanies it. A couple minutes later, a softer voice is heard, and you are startled, peeking over to your project partner. Jimin’s gaze is concentrated on shading the corners of his subject as he quietly sings along. He looks over at you a few seconds later, flushing a pretty shade of pink.

“Sorry, I do that sometimes,” he apologizes, “Tae always complains about it when he’s studying. I’ll stop now.”

“No, it’s totally okay! Your voice is really nice,” you rush to say before wanting to smack yourself on the forehead. Your voice is really nice? That has to be the lamest compliment you can say. His voice is more than nice. It was absolutely wonderful and warm and—

“Really? You think so?” Jimin beams at you, and you lose your train of thought, flustered.

“Yeah, your singing is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he shyly says. His smile becomes even brighter if that is even possible, and you feel that all too familiar rush of adrenaline to your heart as it pumps even faster.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence once more as you work on your drawings. An hour passes by quickly, and soon, the two of you finish your respective parts and start to work on the joint portions: the frames that incorporate the toaster and the bread. You and Jimin manage to complete four frames before you take notice of the time. The bright 9:48 p.m. stares back up at you on your phone when a message from Joy pops up, asking where you are. You quickly type back a response before hitting send.

“Hey, Jimin, it’s getting late. Do you mind if we stop here?”

“No, of course! It’s dark out, let me walk you back,” Jimin offers as he helps you put your art supplies back in your bag.

“Are you sure? It’s a bit far...”

Jimin frowns at you. “All the more reason to walk with you. It’s far, dark, and late. You shouldn’t go out alone like that.”

He slings your bag over his shoulder, shaking his head when you reach for the drawing pad tucked under his arm. “It’s okay, I’ll carry it! Did you bring a sweater? It’s a lot colder at night, too.”

“... No, I didn’t,” you say sheepishly, tugging your sleeves down. “But it’s fine! We’re walking, so the exercise will keep the heat circulating.”

His eyebrows furrow slightly before he goes to one of his drawers, rummaging through it and taking out a hooded sweater. “Here, put this on.”

“No, it’s fine, I—” You start to protest but he interrupts softly, “I don’t want you to get sick. Please put it on.”

Defeated and knowing he is right, you grab the sweater, quietly thanking him as you slip on the warm article. It smells faintly of laundry detergent along with a mix of something woodsy and citrusy. The hem is long, reaching mid-thigh, and the sleeves extend over your fingers, enveloping your hands entirely. Jimin smiles at you shyly, ducking his head, as the two of you begin to walk out of his dorm.

“You look really cute, _______.”

Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as you bring up your hand to cover your face, blood rushing to your cheeks and a silly smile making its way across your face. You murmur a quiet thank you to him, and crimson blooms on the apples of his cheeks.

Once again, soft boys with pretty smiles—specifically one named Park Jimin—will surely be the death of you.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“Our baby is turning into an adult!”

It is Saturday night, and Jisoo is wailing, clutching onto you tightly, as the rest of your friends are scurrying around to hang up streamers and put up balloons around the sorority house. Rosé and Yeri are struggling to tape up the banner, and Eunha walks in with several bottles of sparkling pink lemonade. You had picked up the gorgeous cake decorated with loopy cursive saying “Happy Birthday, Lisa!” from the shop earlier, and it was stored safely in the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, which was also packed with drinks. Sooner or later, Lisa will walk in with Umji, who was trying to keep her preoccupied for the most part.

“She’s coming!” you hear Soyeon yell, and there are a few more screams before everyone finds their places just as the door opens.

“Happy Birthday, Lisa!” A chorus of voices exclaims as the grinning birthday girl walks in. A pink sash and crown is placed on her amid the cheers. Someone pops a bottle of champagne and turns on the music as the multicolor fairy lights blink on and off above your heads. The party has begun, and Yeri starts to hand out the pretty pink Jell-O shots made earlier. The party is in full swing, and Joy pulls you onto the dance floor among the other girls.

Several shots, a game of beer pong, and a slice of red velvet cake later, you may be more than a little bit tipsy, but you are having the time of your life. Jennie pulls you aside and away from the loud music, eyes sparkling with mischief, as she waves her phone in front of your face to show you a text from her boyfriend.

“The surprise is here.”

“What?” Your mind is slightly fuzzy as you try to concentrate and read the message. And as if on cue, when you reach the last word, the front door opens, and a group of boys come in. Your mind finally registers the connection between the text and your university’s hip hop dance team in front of you.

Oh, right. The surprise.

Sowon and Eunbi tugs Lisa forward to sit on a chair that has been placed in the center of the dance floor, and all the girls start to scream, raising their glasses, before quickly fumbling for their phones to videotape as the boys start to dance around the guest of honor. Shirts are thrown off, body rolls are done, and the birthday girl—scratch that, every girl in the room—seems to be highly enjoying it.

Jennie pulls you closer to the front. “C’mon, I need to get a good video of Jongin.”

“Why take a video when he’s going to give you a personal recap later tonight?” You hear yourself saying. Wow, your mind to mouth filter really takes a hit when alcohol comes into play.

She laughs, her cheeks turning a rosy shade, before she yells above the noise, “You’re right, but it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the current show right now.”

Well, you cannot argue with that logic. And you deserve some eye candy after a stressful week filled with pop quizzes and semester paper deadlines. You reach for your phone, opening up the camera function, and start to film, focusing first on Lisa’s reaction. Grinning and cheering along with the rest of the girls, you zoom out to get the whole group dancing before your eye catches on one figure in particular.

Oh my god.

Your eyes widen and your mouth pops open in surprise as you drop your arm, phone loosely grasped in your hand. Your other hand comes up to cover your mouth in shock. You really had too much to drink because that cannot be—

Jimin makes eye contact with you, and he stops mid body roll.

You were right.

Jimin is going to be the death of you.

“I need another drink,” you shout to Jennie, quickly tearing your eyes away from him. She nods in acknowledgement, giving you a thumbs up before continuing to cheer on her boyfriend. You lightly push your way to the kitchen, making a beeline to the fridge. Taking out two bottles, you take two shots first without a chaser, ignoring the slight burn in your throat. You then mix vodka and soda into a red cup for yourself, chugging down half of it immediately afterwards. You really hope the effects of alcohol will come soon.

“Hey, can you pass me the vodka?”

“Yeah, here y—” You pause, turning over to face the familiar voice.

“Hi.” Jimin smiles at you sheepishly. His shirt hangs loose on him, unbuttoned still, with the sleeves rolled up. You try hard to concentrate on his face.

“H-hey, Jimin.” You take a sip of your drink. Maybe another sip, too, for good measure, you think to yourself before downing the rest of it. “So you’re a part of the hip hop dance team...”

“Uh, yeah, Jongin told us his girlfriend wanted us to, um, dance for a party.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh! Sorry, I’m probably making you uncomfortable, I should button this up.”

He reaches for the one of the middle buttons of his shirt, fumbling for a bit, and you cannot help but let a laugh bubble up from your throat. He halts, looking up with a questioning gaze.

“It’s just—you were literally out there, stripping and body rolling for everyone to see, and you’re worried about making me uncomfortable now?” You smile, the hazy feeling of alcohol making its way into your mind along with  the familiar skipping of your heartbeat all because of this all too endearing boy standing in front of you. “You’re really cute, you know that? Like not cute in the physical sense—I mean, you are, you have a cute face and cute butt but also wow, your body is like sculpted by the gods—but wait, I’m getting sidetracked, what was I saying again?”

Leaning against the counter, Jimin has an amused grin on his face now, and you are flustered, face warm from not just the alcohol. He laughs, reaching forward to tuck a loose strand of hair away behind your ear, and your face feels as if it is on fire. “You were calling me cute. But not in the physical sense, but also yes in the physical sense.”

“Oh! Right.” You find yourself nodding, and Jimin lets out another chuckle, smiling widely at you. “So as I was saying, you’re really cute, like your personality is adorable and soft and I have fun doing the art project with you and you make me hate group projects a lot less and you look really kissable, did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t know that, but thank you for telling me.”

Well, you hear no rejection in that, and the alcohol running through your veins gives you that boost of confidence to finally act on your feelings.

“So can I kiss you?”

Jimin is positively beaming at you, and you think his eyes look more sparkly than ever. He reaches over to softly grasp your hand and intertwine your fingers with his. You admire how soft his hand is, squeezing it lightly, before giggling to yourself when Jimin squeezes your hand back gently.

“How about this? How about you give me a kiss on the cheek now, and tomorrow, when you have had less to drink, if you still want to, you can kiss me?”

“Okay!”

Positively giddy, you lean over and press a kiss against his cheek. Jimin’s eyes crinkle as the corners of his lips upturn into another wide smile. He gazes at you tenderly as you stare at him with all the stars in your eyes.

Maybe, you think blissfully, you already died and went to heaven because you just kissed an angel.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You awake past five p.m. the next day, extremely glad that it was a Sunday. You are beyond grateful that you are experiencing no sort of hangover. You are briefly reminded of Irene telling you all to appreciate your youth because once you are out of university, your body just somehow knows and you will be suffering the worst kinds of morning hangovers after only a couple sake bombs the night before. Reaching for your phone, you flick through the mass of notifications, such as several Instagram ones for photos you were tagged in, no doubt from last night. Joy had texted you, saying she went to Sungjae’s place. You scroll back to the top, eyes widening when you read it.

[ 4:27 p.m. ] Jimin: hey, we’re still meeting up at your dorm to finish the art project? At 6?

Hurriedly, you swipe open his message and type out a response.

[ 5:13 p.m. ] you: yes! I’m so sorry I just saw this

Immediately, the three bubbles pop up, and a new message appears.

[ 5:13 p.m. ] Jimin: it’s cool, no worries!! I hope you’re feeling fine. See you soon!

You send back a quick confirmation text before throwing your phone aside with a groan. A rush of memories from last night hits you from your mortifying confession to Joy dragging you home soon after, and you just want to bury your face into your pillow and go back to sleep. Maybe last night was just a bad dream, and you did not make a complete and utter fool of yourself in front of your project partner.

Unfortunately, you are very much awake, and after laying there for thirty minutes, you pull yourself off your bed with a heavy sigh and start to get ready, brushing your teeth and washing your face. Embarrassed or not, you refuse to throw your grade out the window over a boy. You are going to get through this project no matter how painfully awkward it will be.

You change out of your pajamas and tug on a sweater and a pair of leggings that were thrown haphazardly on your desk chair. You finish just in time as the lighting up of your phone screen indicates another text from Jimin. When you check, it’s a short message saying he is at the front of the building. You respond, telling him you are coming down right away, before grabbing your room key, and going down to meet him. You take a few deep breaths in the elevator, hoping to calm down your racing mind and heart.

You see Jimin standing outside, drawing pad leaning against his leg and bag over his shoulder. Distracted, he taps away at his phone with one hand, while the other clutches onto what looks like a drink from the nearby coffee shop. You push open the door, greeting him nervously.

“Hey.”

He looks up at you, tucking his phone in his pocket, and seems startled for a millisecond before grinning happily. “Hey!”

He extends the drink towards you, and you hesitantly take it. “I figured some hot chocolate might help after all the drinking from last night. I wasn’t sure if you like coffee, but everyone likes hot chocolate, right?”

You smile gratefully at him, hands curling around the warm drink. “Thank you, Jimin. I love hot chocolate.”

“Yeah, of course! My friend works there, so I get a pretty good discount if you ever want to get another one. With me. Only if you want to!” He looks a little flustered as he follows you into the building and onto the elevator.

Your smile only grows wider as you begin to relax, taking a sip of the drink. “I’d love that. And I want to apologize if my drunken self made things super weird last night.”

“O-oh! Actually, I wanted to ask if you remembered what you said last night,” Jimin says and you nearly freeze in your steps as you get off the elevator. You would be lying if you said you had not hoped he would just accept your apology and move on.

“... Yeah, I do remember all the embarrassing things I said,” you mumble, unlocking your door and gesturing for him to come in. He walks in, carefully leaning his drawing pad against your desk and placing his bag alongside it. After closing the door, you carefully place the cup of hot chocolate on your nightstand before turning to face him.

“Were they all true?”

He stares at you, biting his bottom lip nervously, as you anxiously fiddle with the strings of the hooded sweater you pulled on, scared to answer. Taking a deep breath, he continues, “Because I think you’re really cute, you know that? But not just in the physical sense, but also yes in the physical sense. And you look really kissable, especially when you’re wearing my hoodie, did you know that?”

Shocked, you are frozen for a few seconds as your brain finally processes what he said. And then, you look down with a thudding heart and realize you are indeed wearing the sweater he lent you days ago.

“And,” Jimin speaks up, and your eyes meet his. He reaches over and takes your hand, interlocking your fingers once more. “My offer from Saturday still stands.”

His words from last night echo in your mind, and you can recall him gazing at you with the most tender smile. How about this? He says, how about you give me a kiss on the cheek now, and tomorrow, when you have had less to drink, if you still want to, you can kiss me?

And yes, you still very much want to.

So you do.

Jimin’s lips are soft and gentle, pressing against yours delicately, as his hands cup your face and your eyes flutter close. You can feel his heart thudding rapidly inside his chest, and you know yours is as well. Your fingers curl as they tug on the ends of his scarf, bringing him even closer to you.

When you finally pull away, Jimin places a small kiss on the tip of your nose, causing you to adorably scrunch your nose up before burying your face in the crook of his neck. He laughs, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly. You are absolutely too cute and too soft for him.

He swears, you are going to be the death of him someday.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

You all receive an A on the completed animation. And you will have to thank Taehyung and Jungkook one day for not coming to the first group meeting. Who knew having group members who don’t show up would pay off for once?

[liloelsagranger]

Viridian Love Story - Chapter 2: I never asked for a rose (new fanfiction update)

Dear friends, I finally completed the second chapter of “Viridian Love Story”. Enjoy! Like, share, reblog and feel free to leave a review. Thanks to all my supportive readers. @jessicarocket @rocketshippingassbutt @masterstarpikachu @estrelarabyss @teamrocketshipping @teamrocketfanart @ndbernarts @thelovelyjessie @webelieveinlovepower @cat-0301 @chaosandhope @james-team-rocket @danadiversity @krazy-holly @keksrocket @tothestarsabove and everyone who keeps encouraging me to write down my thoughts and headcanons ;) Chapter 2: I never asked for a rose Misty looked up. He could read the uncertainty in her gaze. „Ash, is it you?“ she asked suspiciously, cleaving her way through the school desks. He nodded, a smile scurrying over his face. „Ash!“ Misty hastened her step, her heart beating faster. She fell happily around his neck. „It’s been so long,“ Ash wrapped an arm around her waist, carefully caressing her fiery red mane. Pikachu jumped on her shoulder, squeaking with joy. Ash held her tight, recollecting all the wonderful memories he owed her. „I missed you,“ she whispered so close to his ear, giving him goosebumps. He didn’t want to let go of her. Misty was alive and well, all his worries faded. There had been times when he couldn’t sleep at night, the uncertainty about his best friend’s whereabouts keeping him wide awake. „Where have you been?“ he asked her, loosening the embrace. She stared into his eyes, a wave of sadness overcoming her. She let go of him, taking a step back as if she tried to go a safe distance. „Ash, there’s something I need to tell you,“ she wanted to shape a long overdue statement. „I was worried sick,“ he didn’t want it to sound so reproachful, but his feelings overpowered him. „I know and I’m really sorry that I have broken off any contact. Believe me, it was anything but easy for me“, she replied agitatedly. „When the three of us said goodbye after a long adventurous journey, I turned home and...“ Misty couldn’t finish her sentence, from the corner of her eye she noticed someone observing them. „Ash!“ Serena, a grim and skeptical expression on her face, approached the two of them. The distance between Ash and Misty increased by one more piece. „Who’s that girl?“ Serena pointed at Misty, feeling a whiff of jealousy. Ash shielded his best friend. „Serena, this is Misty. We were inseparable. She and Brock joined me on my very first journey to become a Pokémon master. Misty, this is my girlfriend Serena, an aspiring showcase performer“, Ash tried to calm the waves, Serena was obviously out of sorts with Misty. Reluctantly, the two shook hands. Serena wrapped an arm around Ash in order to mark her territory. A kiss sealed their relationship, putting Misty in her place. Ash noticed Misty’s disappointment. She made herself smile, but her gaze spoke volumes. For the first time in his life, Ash felt a pulling in his chest at the sight of her. She was all grown up, beautiful, but something afflicted her and he wanted to find out what caused her so much distress. „Ehm,“ he searched desperatley for words. „Serena, I’ll see you later, okay?“ he playfully nudged her nose. „For all I care,“ she looked at them distrustfully and disappeared from the classroom without saying another word. Misty cocked an eyebrow. „Wow, nice choice, Ash! I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. I think there’s a lot to talk about,“ she winked at him, briefly squeezing his hand. More and more students entered the classroom, Ash and Misty also took a seat and welcomed their new teacher. Meanwhile, Team Rocket worked on an ingenious plan to infiltrate the university. „That’s impossible, Meowth!“ James vent his discomfort. „We’re no trained teachers, we’re going to embarrass us in front of the class.“ Jessie rolled her eyes at Meowth’s idea to fool the whole school. „Listen to me, you two dimwits! No need to worry. A seminar on poison type Pokémon is the best opportunity to creep in, looking for casual robberies and keep Giovanni up to date. All you have to do is standing in front of the class and talk about Arbok and Weezing. That shouldn’t be so hard, even two dorks like you should be able to entertain some freshmen for 45 minutes. Leave the rest to me,“ Meowth’s brain was working at full blast. „But what if they’re going to ask questions? Should we just stand there like two clueless question marks, counting the second until we’re saved by the bell?“ Jessie discovered more and more weak spots in this plan. Meowth rummaged around a bag. „Here“, he presented his team members with two tiny microphones. „I’ll whisper the answers in your ears“, proud of himself, he waited for appreciative praise. „No way! Déjà vu, Meowth. The last time you tried to help us out with answers, we made complete fools of ourselves. Even the smalles children laughed at us,“ Meowth flashed his eyes at James. The cat Pokémon was annoyed by their suspicion. „Times are changing, lavender lock! In a time of digital progress, I’ve adapted our equipment. Now, we’re online. It’s very easy: the kids ask you guys a question that will be transmitted directly to my headphones and I’m able to look up the answer in my huge database within a split second!“ Jessie and James were both wide-eyed. „So, you think it could actually work out?“ Jessie wondered. „We will possibly be successful?“ James added. „Trust me,“ Meowth grinned mischieviously. „All you have to do is to evaluate the position. Listen to the freshmen’s chats, find out if there is going to be a major event, an event where all Pokémon come together. Everything clear so far?“ His friends nodded approvingly. Their bags already packed, Jessie and James headed towards university. „Oh and before I forget, folks,“ an impish smile crossed Meowth’s face, „don’t get distracted by too many flirtations, haha“. Jessie blushed to the roots of her hair. Did Meowth smell the rat? After the first lesson, Misty and Ash decided to spend lunch time underneath an imposing oak in the middle of the university campus. It was good to spend some time in the shadows of the large branches above their heads, for the summer heat was unbearable. Only a few moments later, Brock joined his old friends, providing them with homemade rice balls. Misty felt completely contented. The food, the atmosphere and the company of the two boys reminded her of the good old times, when she was carefree and with a clear goal in mind. „I’m glad you’re back, Misty,“ Brock hugged her tight. They shared ideas and plans, compared their time tables and discovered that they would work together on multiple projects this year. Still, Ash had the feeling that something was bothering the once so though girl. He turned around, facing her directly. „Tell me, Misty. Where have you been all these years? What happened?“ he didn’t want to crowd her, but he missed her reckless attitude. This intimidated young lady was not the Misty he once knew. Misty sighed out loud. Ash noticed how uncomfortable she felt. Brock laid a hand on her shoulder. „It’s okay, we’re here to listen,“ he encouraged her to come out with the truth. „Well,“ it cost her a lot of effort, „at the time I turned home, I was eager to tell my parents and sisters all about my adventures, the fights, the friends I made and about my dream to become an expert for water type Pokémon, but as I entered our house, there was no one there. They had left. To this day, I don’t know where they are, why they abandoned me and why they didn’t even leave a message. I was all alone, left all to my own devices. I tried to search them out, I contacted Officer Jenny, they launched a giant search operation, but it did not yield. Neither the neighbours, nor the people in the nearby village who knew them very well, could help me out. Officer Jenny was then forced to turn to the Youth Welfare Office and they put me in an orphanage not far from home. It was terrible. At the age of sixteen, I bunked out of the orphanage, I made it through with odd jobs and lived hand to mouth. You can’t trust anyone these days, I made shady acquaintances, got into trouble until I decided to pull myself together and sign up for evening classes to catch up on my graduation. Luckily, my grades were excellent and I passed every single test with flying colors and now, I’m here“, a crooked grin graced her face. Ash and Brock’s jaws dropped. They’d have expected anything, an unfortunate romance, a change of residence, an exchange year, but this story hit them hard. What horrors did she suffer? How could she possibly survive all on her own with no helping hand and no friends? „Misty,“ Ash’s eyes shone dangerously. „I’m so sorry to hear that. Come here,“ he embraced her in his arms, pulled her tight and placed a kiss on her forehead. „Don’t you worry anymore. We’re here to support you, you’re not alone.“ He could hear her sob into his shirt, finally releasing her pent-up emotions. She pressed him even tighter. He had always been her safe haven. It broke Brock’s heart to see his friends so distraught and upset. Pulling an arm around each one of them, he asked them to make a pledge. „From this day on, we’ll avouch for each other, no matter what. We will care and support each other like we used to do when we were kids. We’ll stick together, through thick and thin and we’ll never let go of each other again. We used to fight for our rights, we used to stand up for our Pokémon and friends and Ash and I will do everything in our power to make you forget about your gruesome past.“ Ash nodded. „I second every single word!“ He wiped a tear from her cheek. That was strange, he wanted to hold her and protect her from the world. He wanted to erase the dire memories. Jessie was nervous. Not only because she wasn’t used to give lectures on various school subjects, but because James seemed to evade her. He was wearing a white chemise, a necktie and matching trousers. He looked absolutely breathtaking and she couldn’t deny that some naughty thoughts had crossed her mind. „You look good,“ she adjusted his tie. He smiled shyly, avoiding any eye contact. Jessie brushed his arm while reaching for her notes. A bunch of books piled up on the desk and Meowth had already sent them their teaching materials. The students entered the class room, were loud and noisy and Jessie became more and more queasy with every moment. They tried to snatch up fragments of conversations and found out that prom night would take place in a couple of weeks. There was enough time for preparations like fiddling with traps, inviting the Rocket grunts and explore the best locations to catch them all. „James,“ she whispered shortly before the lesson started. „What if we volunteer to organise prom night? It would be the perfect occasion to capture some Pokémon and deliver them to our boss,“ she suggested. „Absolutely, great idea, Jess!“ he winked at her. Jessie never had the chance to attend prom night, but maybe fate would give her a second chance. In her fantasy, she was dancing with James, spending the night underneath an illuminated pavilion, just like newly enamored teenagers. „Put those thoughts out of your mind, Jess! He’s not interested in you. It was a one-time slip!“ she scolded herself. James distributed the work orders and was astonishingly good with the students. He responded to their questions and concerns, dealt with the class clown, promised them exciting lessons and easy exams and had soon made himself a darling who reaped languishing glances from the young girls. He was what Jessie called a crush-teacher. He was handsome, good-looking and charming. The female students would lie at his feet. She was overcome by a slight wave of jealousy. The 45 minutes flew by and both had made a great first impression, even if Jessie had already reproved two ruffians, threatening to chop off their fingers if they would ever again pointing the loser hand gesture at James. After the class had left the room, Jessie let herself sink onto the desk. She was completely exhausted, it was more tiring than expected. James stood in front of her, gathering some paper shreds and pencils. Jessie wrapped her arms around his neck. „I’m so tired. Meowth got us into a pretty mess“, she rested her head on his chest. James recoiled, laughing mousy. „It was a good start, don’t you think?“ He turned around, staring into two demanding eyes. „What’s wrong, Jess?“ he asked her. „James, why are you constantly avoiding me? Did you forget about that night? About your words and kisses? About this special moment between us? Didn’t it mean anything to you? Were you just too drunk to think clearly? Was ist just a joke? Look, I never asked for something, but let’s get things straight“ she wanted answers. James sighed deeply. „No, Jess, I didn’t forget about that night. It was one of the most amazing experiences in my life“, he looked at the floor with embarrassment. She stood up walking towards him. „Then why are you acting so strange? Why are you fending off every single pass?“ He didn’t dare to look at her. „Because I don’t want to fall in love with you.“ To be continued...