#i accidentally clicked out of the text box when trying to type the tags n the post disappeared n i had 2 retype this i think thts a sign

[yumenosakiacademy]

since baizhu is canonically frail do u think if he fucks he'll die

#i accidentally clicked out of the text box when trying to type the tags n the post disappeared n i had 2 retype this i think thts a sign #eichi :handshake: baizhu-- cursed w limited h*rny potential bc theyll die #delete later

[cosmiclatte28]

Strike! (Jaehyun x reader)

a/n : okaay soo this was almost from a real story :)) i twisted and improvised something that happened to me :p not important though, but please enjoy this scenario!

warning : none, i think this is save for everyone.. except if you have bad memories with bowling...

characters : you, Jae, and his friends (Yu,Tae,Johnny)

tagging @yutahoes (since she knew what happened) and @neopalette anyone else wants to be tagged in my works tell me :)

enjoy!!

Spring is happening, the flowers are blooming, and the sun has been staying up longer! Everyone’s toasting under the heat and hoping that summer can just come now. You personally enjoy the heat rather than shivering in the cold winter wind. It’s just that you don’t really have anyone to enjoy this beautiful weather with. Just like any other day, you got down from your room to look for dinner. The sun is still up and you choose to just use one of your jacket and plop into your shoes before locking the door and walking nicely to look for food.

You turn on your earphone, playing on some light music so you feel less lonely. It’s just that you have friends but today you don’t feel like eating with them. You’ve been to two classes today and worked on some homework, you noticed it’s time for a “me time”. So, with the sun shining warmly and you enjoying your afternoon walk you smile when you notice how many couples are walking around the campus.

You’re jealous, you wont lie. Come on, who’s not jealous to see cute happy couples walking under the sun and with the blooming flowers things just look like a scene from a movie. You personally slow down to think of which dining hall to visit today. You choose to go to the west side and see what menu they offer.

You don’t see much student there which make you settle quickly on pasta and have them wrap it up to go. Now, with your boxed food, you walk happily to go back to your room only to pause when there’s a sport car filled with hot guys zooming through you.

You notice a lot of people have their eyes glued on the car, or maybe the guys in it. You don’t know them, but one of them seriously looks cute. You locked eyes for a second and you swore you love him at first sight.

“Woah, last time there were girls zooming around in their opened-cabriole cars and now guys too. Guess summer is really near.” You shrug your shoulder and continue to walk.

You pass by the car again but this time it is parked and the four guys are just chilling around their cars. Sipping on some cold energy drinks while giggling and tossing light smiles to the people passing by.

“Who are you looking at young boy?” The man behind the wheels earlier nudges the boy who has his eyes glued on you.

“Um no one-“ he stammers before turning away to look at his feet and feeling his ears burn.

“Oh I see, some freshman I guess-“ the guy with a Japanese accent teases the younger boy.

“Where? I wanna see too!” the smallest one between the three extends his neck to look around.

Their actions bring the crowd’s attention, and you realize you should keep walking. Why were you stopping in first place?

So, without much thought you continue to walk down your road while humming to your music.

“Stop staring,” the guy who’s looking at his feet finally speaks up.

“Why Jaehyun? You’re shy?” The tallest, Johnny aka guy behind wheel, pokes his cheek.

Jaehyun turns red “Nah, I don’t know her. She just passed by and I locked eyes with her.”

“Don’t worry, if Yuta saw her he will know her name.” Taeyong puts a hand over Yuta’s shoulder “Right Yuta?” he asks to clarify his statement.

Yuta nods “If only you justified if that was the girl you’re staring, I may have her name tomorrow.” Yuta plays with his phone.

Jaehyun sighs “Come on, this school is big… there’s no way you’ll get her name.” he hugs his three friends’ shoulders and sighs “Guess that will be the first and last time I see her.”

Johnny clicks his tongue “So dramatic. Duhh, I know how to see her.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen “How?”

Taeyong giggles “She went that way, there’s only three houses there. We can just hang around there and see her if she goes out of her building. It’s that simple Jae, don’t be so sad.” Taeyong pats his shoulder and jumps into the car.

“Come on, we have a bowling match tomorrow might want to practice a little bit before the game.” Taeyong calls his other friends into the car and once they’re all in, Johnny hits the road again with high speed to show off his car and the guys inside.

--

You finish your dinner and clean up your room already. In an hour or two, you’ll wrap up your task and readings then maybe take a rest because tomorrow is a big day. You got more classes to suffer and some dance class to attend.

Your mind flashes back the image of the cute guy seating in the back seat of the sports car earlier. His dimple, his carefree smile and his fluffy wind-blown hair looks perfect. Oh you really wish you can see him one more time.

He doesn’t look like he belongs in your major, man like him probably is an athlete or studies something related to business or sports.

“Come on come to your senses (y/n)! What are the odds he meet you again? Even if he sees you, he won’t notice or realize you’re there.” You try to burry your hope by reminding yourself boys like him belong to the pretty girls with long legs. Unlike you, totally you’re way out of his league.

That night you dream of a fortunate encounter with the mysterious guy and he gives you his name. Weird how you cannot remember his name at all when you wake up, but the day is running and you need to wake up and face reality. He is a prince charming and you’re no Cinderella.

--

“I told you, I can get her name by today.” Yuta proudly shows Jaehyun and the guys an Instagram profile.

“Wait whoah you really did.” Taeyong says after examining the profile picture because of the private account.

“How did you?” Jaehyun stops asking when his eyes accidentally spot you coming into the room.

“Am I seeing things or is she really here?” Jaehyun whispers to his friends and Johnny gives him a smack “Hurts? It’s real. I see her too.”

Yuta chuckles “Come on, I see her walking to this place and thought maybe she’s here this afternoon. So, I made a quick run through the participant list and look up one by one.”

“Thank you- but oh I am so fortunate to see her again.” Jaehyun is literally having his moment. If this is a drama he’d have romantic bgm and flower petals falling out of nowhere. But this is the bowling room in the campus and it’s far from romantic. Especially when the judge calls for the competitor to get ready.

“Good luck there bro, focus on the game not on the girl.” His friends tease him before leaving to sit in the spectator seat.

You tie your bowling shoes and pick out your own ball. Polishing it and feeling it with your hand before bumping into someone’s sturdy chest.

“Oh- sorry.” You mutter an apology before looking up and freezing in place when you lock eyes with the same man you’ve been dying to see again.

“You-“ he turns pink.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to bump you. Please don’t kill me.” You beg for him

He chuckles “I will not kill you, but if you want my apology…” he trails off and bends a little bit to see your face closer “Give me your name.”

You turn red now and you feel your face heat up “It’s (y/n)”

He smiles and reaches out his hand “Jaehyun, nice to meet you (y/n)” he shakes your hand and you grin. This is awkward…

“I saw you yesterday on the car. Nice car.” You whisper after both of you sit down to wait for your turns.

Jaehyun nods “Wasn’t my car sadly, but it’s my friend’s.” he points to the three guys enjoying pizza on the spectator bench. You only nod, his friends all look hot.

“So, bowling eh? Good at it?” you ask him when it’s almost his turn. Jaehyun stands up and wears his bowling glove “Good? I just pick this up as a new hobby and I join this to look for new friends.” He gets up to his lane and picks his ball before posing nicely and hits a strike.

You smirk, not bad. He has some talent.

Jaehyun returns after his turn is over and it’s yours now.

“What about you?” he asks

You sweetly smile “Watch and see,”

Jaehyhun notices how you change. Your posture is different, and your gaze definitely burns hole to the wall. He secretly has to control his heartbeat from going up when he sees you hit a strike.

You’re not a newbie, he notices that

“Great posture, accurate and precise.” Jaehyun offers a high-five and you take it.

“Well, thank you that came from years of practice. Pleasure to be your competitor tonight, I am (y/n) the school’s official bowling team leader.” You wink and Jaehyun feels his heart burst into million pieces.

How can you be so cute and so attractive at the same time? Plus what, you’re the bowling athlete team? Hot.

He sure is going to brag on you to his friends, but most importantly he’ll win your number first after the hot tight match. He’s glad Johnny forced him to sign up for this competition, and he’s glad he has the courage to talk with you.

“So, nice game and you’re really good.” Jaehyun nudges your shoulder when the game ends with you winning.

You grin “Oh yeah? Well, what do I get for winning?” you playfully tease him.

He knits his eyebrow for a while before grinning “Do you want my number? We can have lunch together or dinner someday.” He offers you his suggestion and you feel your cheek burns.

“Sure, yes I’d love that.” You gulp and type in your number to his phone.

“Okay, I’ll text you my number so you can save it.” He winks and turns his head around when his friends call him

“I got to go, do you want to go back to your dorm with us?” he offers you a ride but as much as you want to, you know not to accept rides from stranger easily.

You shake your head “I will go with them,” you point to a new group of friends living in the same building you just met earlier.

Jaehyun nods coolly “Okay, text me when you got home.” He points to your phone that lights up with a message from him.

You smile and wave your hand as you walk to the other friends “Bye Jaehyun! It was nice meeting you.”

Turns out yesterday was not the first and last time he sees you.

end

#multifandomnet #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x you #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun oneshot #nct oneshot #nct fluff #nct flirt line #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun college au #nct college au #nct x reader #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun x you

[wizardessheartprincess]

Bold of u to assume i have a title in mind (prologue, part 1/?)

Pairing; bakugou katsuki x reader

A/N; new au: reader’s sending out surveys and somehow one respondent makes it into a competition; reader is not paid enough to deal with this. So many wild assumptions, even the economics major in me is reeling. Many corners were cut. I’m mostly sorry. only ooc in this household. shoutout to @lady-bakuhoe whose incredible existence was the impetus for me to write a fic for the first time in 2 years. will i continue this? who knows!

edit: part 2 is here (x)

Your eyes are drawn to the little black text box that pops up in the bottom right corner of your screen - a new email. The subject line - a reply to the email you haven’t even finished sending to all the recipients yet.

You click into the notification, expecting it to be one of the business students critiquing your survey design - but no, it’s… from the Hero Course. Funny, since they’re usually off training, and you have to nag most of them multiple times to answer emails, even with the giant “[ACTION REQUIRED]” tag in the subject line.

You sit up from where you’re lazily draped over the bed, kicking aside the blanket as you decide to act more professional when you’re technically still on the clock for work. You shuffle over to the desk, gently placing your laptop on top of it before you’re much less gentle with how you plop yourself into the chair.

The survey was an exercise for the Support Course - meant to develop your communication skills with the heroes you would one day aid in their work. That meant designing a survey that your heroic audience would actually take the time to answer accurately, while providing you with feedback on your designs. 

Your specialty was in aerodynamics and chemistry - and the Hero Course student you most wanted to design for was Bakugou Katsuki. It was just your luck that he was also probably the worst “client” to work for… at least from what you’d heard from your classmates. Abrasive, picky, and downright destructive of his equipment - those were your classmates’ chief complaints about him. But while of course, you understood their annoyance at having to remake his costume every time he ran off into a new scuffle, part of you was attracted to the qualities that others seemed to hate. He was aggressive, and harsh on his support items, yes, but he demanded the best out of his own performance, too. It went both ways. Personally, you appreciated that he knew exactly what he needed, and you’d be happy to try to deliver-

It absolutely sucked, having two desires conflicting like this - one, to dive headfirst into your inventions, to create boundlessly, to really make an impact on the world through the users of your gifts - but the other, to simply create without having to interact with others. You envied people like Hatsume, who seemed to have endless energy to pour into marketing, to not just make, but also share. You? 

You had an equal ratio of 3D print files and trashed concept art, and a 100:0 ratio of ideas to actually publicized ideas. 

Sure, you’d tossed some small inventions into the metaphorical ring before, to some praise and interest from major support companies, but you’d always been too damn shy to really push anything to come out of those initial sparks of interest. 

You opened the email, drafting the survey you were originally planning to send out to Todoroki. He could wait.

Above the answers - quite thoughtfully composed, actually - was a note. 

“Is this the fastest reply you’ve gotten?” 

I quietly snort. Seriously? Not everything has to be a competition. But based on the way he acted in the Sports Festival (and everywhere else, let’s be honest)… you’re not entirely surprised.

You pause, curiously skimming his answers, slowing down every now and then so you can reciprocate his thoughts with your own, already brimming with fresh concepts to incorporate into existing designs. 

And... as much as you’d like to spiral into sketches and notes on how to buffer the shock wave effect of his large explosions on his own body, more complex biologic drug compounds to prevent any pulmonary issues from his quirk, and the possibility of adding an automatic shock wave source to his hero costume that would provide destructive interference with any aftershocks of his explosions that might put too much pressure on his body - 

First.

You check the reply time - he replied nineteen minutes after you sent the initial email. 

You hit the reply button.

“Dear Bakugou - 

Thank you for the prompt and thorough response! Unfortunately, Midoriya responded to the last survey in eighteen minutes - just a minute before you. 

- Y/N”

You hit send, and navigate promptly to the drafted email you were working on just before this one. While you could just mass email everyone, you’ve found that personalizing the emails generally gets better response and completion rates. Still, you’ve barely typed out Todoroki’s name before another notification pops up - 

“Did I beat it yet?” is the entire contents of the email.

You can’t help but smile a little - and you almost just reply with a short “Yes : )” and leave it at that, but…

This opportunity doesn’t come every day. You look at the clock - technically, you could stop now if you wanted. Even on school nights, you’re encouraged to generally stop working before it gets too late, to refresh your mind periodically. Still…

You open your files, navigating to the folder you have for Bakugou. While you have a folder for pretty much every student in the Hero Course, you’ve spent much more time designing possibilities for Bakugou’s costume, the potential of a better aerodynamic and versatile all-around tool for him to use in battle.

- Not that you’ve ever really shown these designs to anyone, let alone the person they were customized for.

But…

Screw it.

You attach a couple of files to your reply email.

“You beat the record.”

You make no written mention of the files - hopefully, he’ll see them anyway, because you have no idea how to introduce them out of the blue. Honestly, he’s probably too busy to study them too in-depth, and it’s just as well if he doesn’t notice the attachments, anyway. Maybe they’re not that useful after all.

You hit send again. 

It’s hours later when your phone lights up and dings with another notification - you sit up groggily in bed, trying to reach for it while cursing that you forgot to turn your notifications off overnight - when you see it’s another reply from Bakugou. Instantly, you’re awake, as if the man himself had come into your room and directed an explosion into your face.

Did he see your designs?

You scramble to tap on the email in your inbox, accidentally clicking into a reply from Kirishima that you instantly close out of, before you stop, and it’s as if the night has its own inertia in the still silence. 

“Can I talk to you about these tomorrow?”

Your throat goes dry - you swing your legs out of bed, and toddle to your desk again, turning on the room lights on your way. Flipping up your laptop screen again, you open all the 3D print iteration files, the word documents of notes, the code and corresponding comments, the CAD models, from Bakugou’s folder - there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep tonight.

Then, finally, you respond.

“What time?”

#bakugou x reader #i did wayyyy too much research on anti explosion building engineering and aerodynamics of shock waves for this #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha fanfiction

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Baby You Were My Picket Fence [Chapter 2: Should I Stay Or Should I Go]

You are a first grade teacher in sunny Los Angeles, California. Ben Hardy is the father of your most challenging student. Things quickly get complicated in this unconventional love story.  

Song inspiration: Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing) HERE

Taglist: @blushingwueen @queen-turtle-boiii @everybodyplaythegame @onceuponadetectivedemigod @luvborhap 

Hey y’all, I’m also going to tag some of my usual readers so you know this exists but I WON’T TAG YOU AGAIN UNLESS YOU ASK ME TO, so don’t worry I won’t bother you! :) @the-borhap-boys @killer-queen-xo @sincereleygmg @calspixie @queen-crue @inthegardensofourminds @jennyggggrrr @stormtrprinstilettos @bramblesforbreakfast @brainflakes @coffeexcigarette @ezmina98 @danamaleksworld @littlespoiltthing

You guide your forest green, decade-old, positively no-frills Hyundai Elantra onto the shoulder of the narrow, winding road. There are trees and boulders and steep rock faces peppering the landscape; even before you open the car door, you can hear birds and rustling leaves overhead. You climb out and inspect the rear tires with your hands on your hips. As you suspected, the driver’s side one is flattening before your eyes. There’s a daggerish white rock jutting out of the deflating rubber, the source of your trouble on this otherwise unencumbered Saturday.

“Dammit,” you moan, peering up and down the road. It’s not a great place to break down: it’s fairly isolated, there are blind curves, the shoulder isn’t very wide. The sun is hot and glaring in a cloudless sky.

You slip back into your car and click on the hazard lights. Your iPhone is laying on the dashboard. Fortunately, you already have your usual mechanic’s contact information saved.

“Siri, call Benji’s.”

“Calling: Ben Hardy.”

“What?! No!” You paw for your phone and in the process knock it off the dashboard and onto the floor of the passenger’s side. “No no no no no, bad Siri, no—!” 

“Hello?” a reverberating British voice pours through the speakers.

You chuckle awkwardly, contorted between the front seats, your left arm painfully extended towards the phone. “Uh, hi, yeah, good afternoon, Mr. Hardy. This is Miss Y/L/N, Eli’s teacher.”

“...Okay?”

“Uh...” Your fingertips brush the phone, flail around unproductively, then finally scoop it into your palm. You sigh as you straighten up in the driver’s seat, treasuring your freshly unimpeded breathing. “Look, I’m going to be honest, Mr. Hardy. I was trying to call my mechanic and accidentally dialed you. So I’m very sorry for the intrusion and won’t interrupt your weekend any further.”

There’s a lull before he replies. “Having car trouble?”

“No. Well, yeah. It’s a flat tire, nothing serious. I’m just woefully incompetent with car stuff.”

He sounds amused now, as if all his assumptions about what it means to grow up in the United States have been shattered. “Your dad never taught you how to change a flat?”

“Not exactly.” The thought is legitimately preposterous. Your mom and dad own an organic goat farm in Northern California, and as skilled as they are in animal husbandry, quilting, soapmaking, and horticulture, neither know the first thing about the stereotypically heteronormative male, unapologetically red-blooded American realm of vehicle maintenance. “My parents are...unconventional.”

“Gotcha. You know a mechanic is going to charge you an arm and a leg to drive out and fix it.”

“Thanks for the tip.” I knew you were evil.

Mr. Hardy is backpedaling, almost nervous. “What I mean is that I can change a flat in five minutes and you shouldn’t be out a hundred bucks for something like that.”

“...Okay...?”

“Where are you?”

You recoil, shaking your head, your earrings jangling. “Are you...offering to come fix my car...?

“Is that against the rules or something?”

“I mean, no, I guess not.” You’re struggling to process his words; he wants to help you? He’s taking time out of his Saturday to save you, a systemically underappreciated public school teacher, from financial distress? Mr. Archetypal Uppity British Gentleman knows how to change a tire?!

“Good. Where are you exactly?”

“Angeles Crest Highway. I’m about halfway up Mt. Wilson.”

“Yikes,” Mr. Hardy notes. “Not a good spot.”

“Not at all.”

“Right. I’ll be quick. See you soon.” And then he’s gone.

You set the phone back up on the dashboard and crinkle your brow at it in suspicious bewilderment. “What the fuck, Siri?” you murmur.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean—”

“Forget it, Siri.”

This is weird. This is really weird. But the part that’s gnawing at you the hardest is this: now that you’re alone again, now that there’s no husky voice echoing around the Elantra, now that there’s nothing between vulnerable stranded you and the Southern California wilderness...you sort of miss him. You miss Mr. Hardy. He’s odd and intense and intimidating and seemingly always vaguely pissed off, but there’s something else underneath that as well. There’s something strong and protective, something comforting.

“No,” you say firmly, glaring at yourself in the rearview mirror. “We cannot get crushes on students’ parents. Especially not potential demons.”

Suddenly, you wonder if maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You’re completely on your own out here on this wooded, snaking road. And you don’t actually know Mr. Hardy at all, that abrupt irrational fondness notwithstanding.

You text your best friend Sasha, who teaches third grade. If I go missing or end up sacrificed to pagan deities or something, it was Benjamin Whitaker Hardy. Avenge me.

Sasha replies thirty seconds later. ???

And then: Demon kid’s dad?????

Finally: Daddy demon?????????

Daddy demon sounds way too sexual for your liking. Yeah, you reply practically. Then you wait.

He rolls up behind your car in his black Lexus, and before he kills the engine you can hear AC/DC booming through the open windows. You’re perched on the hood of your Elantra, your feet swinging. When Mr. Hardy steps out of the Lexus, he’s wearing slim-fitted light jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt, the kind sold at Target and sported by teenagers who couldn’t pick Kurt Cobain out of a lineup if their life depended on it. Instinctively, you smirk and roll your eyes.

“That’s no way to greet your rescuer. What’s funny?”

You point to his shirt. “Can you name a single Nirvana song or is that strictly for the aesthetic?”

“All Apologies. Stay Away. Smells Like Teen Spirit...Teen Spirit is a type of deodorant, by the way. Come As You Are. Heart-Shaped Box. In Bloom. Lithium. About A Girl.” He flashes a grin. “Want more?”

“No, that’s okay. You pass.” You’re a little sad about this; it would be so much easier to loathe him if he was a poser.

Mr. Hardy pops open his trunk and digs around. “Do you have a spare tire and a jack?”

“I think I have a spare, but...uh...what’s a jack...?”

He bursts out laughing. “You really are hopeless! Not to worry, I’ve got one.” He pulls an x-shaped wrench and a twist of black metal—what must be a jack—out of his trunk and strolls towards you, surveying the damage to your flat tire, nodding as he rubs his cleanshaven chin. You slip off the hood and approach him, your arms crossed over your chest so he can’t see your hands trembling.

“Mr. Hardy...”

“I’m not going to fix that unless you start calling me Ben.”

“Ben,” you manage with difficulty. “Why are you doing this?”

He shrugs. You don’t feel like he’s ogling you up and down, you don’t feel objectified; that’s a pitifully rare occurrence around unfamiliar men. His gaze is on your face and nowhere else. It’s hard to meet his eyes; there’s that daunting aura he never quite shakes. But once you do, you’re trapped there in a sea of sparking green like malachite. Oh no. I like this guy. “I feel like I was rude the other day,” he says finally. “I wanted to apologize. And if my kid’s been giving you hell for the past month, I should probably apologize for that too.”

“Oh,” you respond softly. “Well...that’s really appreciated, Mr. Hardy. Ben. But of course I’m going to pay you—”

“You definitely are not.” He slides the jack beneath the Elantra and pumps it up as you dig the spare tire out of your trunk and bring it to him.

“Can I help?”

“Here’s what you can do.” Ben gestures to the pavement next to where he’s kneeling. “Watch me. Then you’ll know how to do it yourself next time you get attacked by a rock.”

“Okay.” You sit beside him, trying not to stare at his glistening biceps, the beads of sweat gathering at his temples and dampening his golden hair, his sturdy dexterous fingers as he unscrews the lug nuts one after the other, rolls the flat away, and secures the spare tire. Five minutes was about right. “I’m gonna keep it real with you. I feel ridiculous.”

He glances over at you as he throws the flat tire into the trunk of his Lexus. “Why’s that?” he asks, oddly concerned.

“Because you made that look so easy and I’m a helpless moron.”

Ben chuckles. “You’re not a moron. We just have different skillsets. I’d be pretty lost in a classroom of twenty-five six-year-olds, that’s for sure.” He points at your earrings. “You like dinosaurs?”

“What?” Your hands come up to feel them: oh right, the green stegosaurus pair. “Yeah, I do, actually. And the kids like them too, so everyone wins.”

“How do you feel about Jurassic Park?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “This is a bizarre conversation, Mr. Hardy.”

“Ben,” he corrects good-naturedly.

“Ben,” you agree.

“The question still stands.”

“Jurassic Park is one of my all-time favorite movies, I harbor a humiliating yet undying passion for Jeff Goldblum, there, have I passed?”

Ben smiles at you playfully, almost trickily, like there’s some hilarious joke you aren’t in on. “You passed.”

“Awesome. I guess I should let you go enjoy the rest of your weekend now.”

Instead he says: “Do you want to get coffee or something?”

“What?” you sputter, gawking. “With...you...?”

Ben rubs the back of his head and glimpses around at the trees, the sky, nothing in particular. Oh my god, he’s nervous. “Well I’ve been meaning to find time to talk with you about Eli, and my schedule is usually a nightmare, but Eli had a friend’s birthday party to go to today and my meetings fell through so I find myself suddenly available.”

“Oh,” you reply, blinking.

“Unless of course you have plans, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t assume—”

“No, no, you’re absolutely right,” you say. “I have no life whatsoever outside of school. So, yeah, we can totally talk now. About Eli.”

“Okay.” Ben seems pleased. “Are you especially attached to the prospect of coffee?”

“I am not. Why?”

He buries his hands in his pockets and tilts his head at you. Why does this feel like a test? “I really like pie.”

“I freaking love pie. Let’s go.”

Ben’s Lexus follows you to your favorite—if decidedly unglamorous—little diner about twenty minutes outside the city. The decor is straight out of the 1950s: slick black-and-white checkered floors, mint green counters and appliances, Elvis and Marilyn posters, a full-sized jukebox. You ask the waitress for your usual spot, a cozy booth next to the rotating dessert display. Then you place your orders: a root beer float and coconut cream pie for Ben, hot chocolate and crumb-top apple pie for you.

“So you’re into national parks,” Ben ventures as he scoots into the bright red booth, as if he’s trying to make conversation, as if this is some stilted blind date. “Or just...driving through them?”

“I’m super into them. Sometimes I do my grading out there.” You lace your hands on top of the table, clicking seamlessly into business mode. “Now, about Eli...”

“Yes,” Ben complies, fidgeting, drumming his knuckles on the table. What is up with this guy?

“What I usually do in situations like this is come up with a collaborative, two-pronged plan. I’ll make classroom accommodations to help Eli succeed, and you as the parents...parent...will implement steps at home to model better choices and reinforce the lessons learned at school.”

“Okay.” He’s attentive, he’s nodding, he’s making this way too easy. Your order arrives and Ben beams at his root beer float like it’s a winning lottery ticket. “Oh my god, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted one of these,” he sighs, slurping through the metal straw.

“Are root beer floats...a rarity where you come from...?”

“Well I’m usually on a strict diet. For my job. But I’m between projects so I can afford the calories.” Ben devours his slice of pie in three bites. “Oh yeahhhhh.”

You laugh at him, sipping your hot chocolate. “So you’re an actor? Or a model or something?” Holy hell, he really does work for J.Crew.

Ben clams up instantly. “Or something.”

Fine, be cryptic then. “Anyway, here’s my plan for Eli. Your son is extremely bright—he couldn’t possibly come up with some of those shenanigans if he wasn’t—so I’m thinking part of the problem is that he’s bored with the lessons, that the rest of the class moves a bit to slow for him. I think he needs extra attention, extra motivation. I’d like to ask him to be my helper, to write examples out on the board, to take care of the class hamster Creampuff, maybe even do some grading. Try to find something that interests him, and get him to realize that teachers can be friends. But I need to be able to trust him not to abuse that added responsibility.”

“Yeah,” Ben replies thoughtfully. “That sounds great. He’s definitely a smart kid, he’s just...he’s got a lot of energy, you know, he’s...he’s spirited. I’ve talked to Eli and he says he doesn’t mean any harm, that he’s just trying to have fun. But of course I explained to him that throwing frogs at people is at best a very loose interpretation of fun.”

Here comes the sensitive part. “How are things at home, Mr. Hardy?”

“Ben.”

“Ben. Sorry.”

“Things are...good!” he answers, but he’s avoiding your eyeline. “I mean...things aren’t perfect. I wish I could be home more. I work a lot. But I try to spend as much time with Eli as I can, and my mum relocated to L.A. so she’s always available to watch him...he adores her. He’s definitely better behaved at home than at school. But I believe you about the trouble he’s been causing. And I do think stress at home is at least partially to blame.”

“Is his mother...” How can you put this delicately? “Did Eli...lose her?”

Ben nods, glancing out the window, refracted sunlight spilling over his pale face, still not looking at you. “Yeah, she’s not in the picture.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say gently. “For both of you.”

He clears his throat, then drains the rest of his float. “Right. I think we have a plan.”  

“We do,” you agree. “And I think we should have meetings every so often to assess Eli’s progress. Maybe once a week to start? I can just call if that’s easiest. It doesn’t have to be in person.”

“No, in person works.” Now Ben’s eyes are fixed on you, large like a doe’s and arresting. You remember thinking they were like malachite before; but maybe emerald is closer, or olive, or hunter or peridot or jade.

Okay, time to stop obsessing over daddy demon’s infuriatingly nice irises.

Except all at once you can’t imagine thinking Benjamin Whitaker Hardy is anything like a demon. Maybe something else, something related but reversed, something light and benevolent and peaceful.

He asks: “Can I take you to dinner sometime?”

There’s no way I heard that right. “I’m sorry, I was chewing pie obnoxiously loudly, did you say...?

“Dinner. Sometime. With me.”

You swim through the words like coming up from a dream, clawing through haze and into daylight. “We’re not...dating or anything, are we?”

Are you allowed to date students’ parents? Is it possible that outrageously dashing, British, J.Crew model Ben could be interested in you? Did you get hit by a truck while trying to change your flat tire and all of this is some elaborate unconscious fantasy? Are you in a coma?

Ben chuckles, and it’s a heartbreakingly beautiful sound. “No, we are definitely...” He makes air quotes. “...Not dating.”

And you realize that whether you actually want to date Ben wasn’t on your list of questions, probably because it’s not much of a question at all.

“Okay,” you reply quietly, your lips curving up at the edges into a shy smile. “Dinner sometime.”

“Cool. It’s a not-date.” Ben winks at you.

If the fiery afterlife is filled with demons like him, sign me the fuck up.

#ben hardy #ben hardy fic #ben hardy x reader #borhap fanfic #borhap fic #borhap #borhap cast

[plumblossomkun]

Jumpscare

word count: 1270

synopsis: in which Jaemin and Haechan begin their pre-Halloween prank fest, and it all starts with Jeno and one of the oldest bait-and-switch tricks in the book. 

warning[s]: if you’re going to click on the link in the a/n below, wear headphones, and lower the volume. it’s kind of spooky, but you don’t need to look at it! it’s just what inspired this fic. and if you’re not going to click on it, and you’re curious about the basis of this little one-shot, then click here.

a/n: idk how many of you played this game when you were younger, but i did and so did my friends when we were young and it spread like a virus for a couple of months; this was some time back in 2008 or so. i use a couple of common gaming terms... let me know if they’re too confusing and i’ll add notes!

“Do you think Jeno knows?” Jaemin whispers as he and Haechan tiptoe towards Jeno’s room. The door isn’t open, but light spills out from beneath it, along with the sound of rapid typing.

Haechan considers it. “No way. The only one who said he’d seen it before was Johnny-hyung. He said it was really popular in America when he was young.”

“Okay, okay.” Jaemin raps on the door. “Yah, Jeno.”

Jeno doesn’t answer, but the keyboard clicking continues.

“Are you busy?”

“Yes,” comes the muffled reply, a minute or two later.

“Okay, we’re coming in!” Haechan announces, turning the doorknob. It isn’t locked, of course-- if it was, it would have been like broadcasting to everyone else that Jeno was doing something he didn’t want anyone else to see. And when they peek into his room, he’s sitting at his computer, one ear freed from his headset so that he hears when they come barreling in.

“What’s up, guys?” he says, eyes glued to his monitor. 

He’s deep into a game of PUBG, the zone pressing in on his character from behind, and 9 people left alive. Splatters of red cross his screen as the zone damages his health points, slowly depleting the white health bar at the bottom of his HUD. “I said I was busy.”

“You can pause,” Jaemin jokes, chuckling as he drapes an arm around his shoulders to watch.

Jeno blows a raspberry at him. “You mean I can go prone in a bush and hide.”

Jaemin titters. “Yeah, same thing.”

Jeno turns back to his game, and misses the grin that passes between Haechan and Jaemin as he does so. “Did you two just come in here to snoop, or did you need something?”

“Oh, yeah. Mark-hyung sent me something. I think you’d be interested in it.” Jaemin scrolls through his phone casually,  

Suddenly, scarlet fog covers the edges of Jeno’s field of vision on the screen as an enemy engages with him, muzzle flashing from across the landscape and tagging Jeno’s character. He yelps, and flops down in the bush behind a round bale of hay.

“Oh, oh, he’s right there.” Haechan points to a barely perceptible shadow behind a tree in the far distance, a dark smudge of pixels, and rests his chin on Jeno’s right shoulder. “185 North.”

Jeno scopes in with his sniper, but it’s too late-- a split moment later, his character goes limp, health bar completely gone, and the defeat screen pops up with thick yellow font declaring ‘Better Luck Next Time’, ranking him at 10th as a solo player.

“Ahhh, man.” He sits back in his chair and sighs.

“Look on the bright side,” Haechan says, pinching his cheeks, “now you can check out the thing.”

Jeno eyes them warily. “What thing?”

“Here, let me type it in.” Jaemin leans over him to access the keyboard, alt-tabbing out of the PUBG fullscreen and onto his desktop to open a Google Chrome window. He types in http://www.winterrowd.com/maze/ and hits enter. 

A plain website, looking a bit out of date-- there’s a link to a MySpace page on the bottom-- pops up, and Jeno scans its contents dubiously as he slides his headset off his head to rest around his neck, switching the audio output to speakers.

The Maze, by Jeremy Winterrowd

This is a game of skill and patience... 

Guide your dot with the mouse through the 4 stages of maze levels to get to the finish. 

The difficulty gets harder the further you go. 

Remember... don't touch the walls or you will have to start over at the beginning! 

Good Luck! ... you'll need it. 

“What is this?” The neon cyan backdrop of The Maze Game is a little blinding, so he turns down the brightness of his monitor, wincing. Then he clicks Play. An upside-down L-shape appears on the screen, in the same cyan shade, but against a black backdrop, with a red square on the top right of the L marked ‘Exit’. “A maze game?”

“You can read, can’t you?” Jaemin sighs, pointing to the text box with instructions again. “It’s just a little game. Try it out.”

“Why don’t you?”

Haechan pats his head. “We already did. Now it’s your turn.”

“I feel like I’m being initiated into something I don’t want to be part of.”

“Nonsense. Now play.”

Jeno rolls his eyes, but takes up the mouse and begins to trace his way through the maze. The first is easy, and he moves his cursor to the exit. The second is just a bit harder, a simple S-squiggle.

Then the third level pops up, another S-squiggle, but with a tiny path at the very end leading to the exit, just barely larger than the pixel server as the marker for his cursor. He rolls his eyes and looks back at his friends. Jaemin is staring at his phone with a sly smirk, and Haechan looks on, shaking with silent laughter.

“Are you filming me?” Jeno inquires, raising a brow.

“As if. Keep playing. I want to see how you do.”

Jeno sighs and turns back to his monitor, but accidentally knocks his mouse aside, into the walls of the game, and it immediately goes back to the beginning screen.

“Ah, Jeno, look what you did!” Haechan scolds, clicking on Play again for him. “Come on, finish.”

“Okay, okay.” Jeno focuses on the tiny pixel, on keeping it from hitting the walls. “I got this.”

“Are you getting this?” Haechan mutters to Jaemin, covering his mouth with a hand. “I want to keep the footage.”

“Yeah, I’m recording,” Jaemin snickers.

Jeno’s cursor nears the exit, and he exhales slowly, willing his hand not to shake.

But before he can move into the red zone, the maze abruptly switches to a picture of a haggard, white-skinned woman with unkempt brown hair, scars lining her face, eyes milky and pupils contracted to pinpoints of darkness, rotting teeth bared in a facsimile of a smile. 

And if that wasn’t enough, a terrible screech, shrill and unearthly, explodes from the speakers.

Jeno hollers and pushes himself away from the desk, throwing his hands up to shield himself from the demonic face. In his haste to get away from the screen, though, he tips a little too far back, and tumbles sideways out of the chair and onto the floor with a crash, tugging his headset from its port and tangling with its cord.

Haechan and Jaemin collapse with him, but instead of the gaping jaw and wide eyes Jeno’s wearing, they are crying with laughter.

“Oh my god, did you see his face?”

“I got it on video!”

Jeno pulls his headset off furiously, finally processing the situation. “What was that?”

It takes them a moment to answer, to recuperate from rolling around in hysterics. When they do get up, it’s Haechan who answers, wiping moisture from the corners of his eyes. “That was the Scary Maze Game, and we still need to get Mark to do it.”

“Where did you get this? Jesus.”

“We asked Johnny-hyung for ideas to spook you, and this was the first thing on his list.”

“There’s a list?”

Jaemin helps Jeno up from the ground, chuckling. “Don’t worry, they’re not all for you.”

“I’m more worried that there are more for me,” Jeno grumbles, picking up his chair and leaning on it. 

Then he pauses. “Did you say you got it on video?”

“Run, Jaemin,” Haechan hisses, but the taller boy is already out the door and down the hallway.

Jeno scrambles out after him, crying, “Delete that!”

“Never!”

#neotober #cznnet #jeno #lee jeno #jeno oneshot #jeno drabble

[aka-willow]

Gone

gif

Words: 2012

Characters:  Willow Wren, Gooblin, Pip, Pingu, Burr, Spark, Danny, Manny, Dew, Fanisimo, France, Sabbath

Prompt/Tag:

“are you finishing that or…?”

“You’re going to get someone hurt.”

Summary: Willow speaks with the other Lab Rats about their past and future

Timeline: December 2015

Song: Gone - M83

A/N: the more you know

—————————————————————————–

The Lab Rats and I met at Gooblin’s fire tower on Christmas Eve. We set up sleeping bags in the tower and lit a bonfire down below. It should have felt like a party, being together for the first time since the summer, but it didn’t. It was somber instead.

On the heels of Marty’s death, the boys were sure that they were being trailed in Vegas, and Sabbath had botched a leak, accidentally forgetting to strip one of the files of metadata. It was a rough week and so we sat around the bonfire, staring down the end of our first year of freedom.

“Sometimes,” Pip said, slowly. “I think we should just turn ourselves in.” I shot a look at him.

“Why?” Burr asked. “Did you see something?”

“No,” said Pip, gazing into the fire. “I mean, not specifically. But when I do get those flashes of the future, I just see…” He looked at me and I frowned. “I just see… those planes that SHIELD used to have. It’s really dark. Surrounded. Loud. Maybe we should turn ourselves in before things get bad.”

“I’m not turning myself in,” said Pingu, poking the embers with a stick. “I hardly even use my powers. I’m not a threat.”

Except for D.C.

“Yeah, and neither is magic tricks,” said Manny, looking at Danny and France. “Pip, you know what we do. How can you say that’s dangerous?”

“I’m not saying it’s dangerous,” Pip said. “I’m saying that we’re perceived as threats.”

“Not me either,” said Sabbath, and Spark nodded her head in agreement. “Most of us are just trying to get our lives together. Even Dew is, which… I’m honestly kind of surprised.”

Dew laughed. “Well, superbrains aren’t exactly obvious. And the mirror thing isn’t either.”

“So, what?” I asked. “Who are you talking about?” I asked Pip. “Me? Fanisimo building things for us? Burr’s out there robbing banks in Europe.”

“I’m not violent,” Burr shot back. “It’s all behind the scenes.”

“So what, I build things?” said Fanisimo. “As long as I don’t open up a nether portal, I think we’re okay.”

That left me, and I felt their stares. “You want me to turn myself in,” I said. “That’s me you’re seeing in your vision.”

“I didn’t say that,” Pip mumbled.

“You implied it.”

“What’s going on in New York?” Danny asked. “I see the news, and maybe to outsiders it’s not suspicious, but to us? What are you doing? Every time I check in it’s like a new disaster or unsolved crime or—”

“I’m fine!” I said.

“You’re going to get someone hurt,” Sabbath said. “Or get yourself hurt.”

I ignored her and played with Marty’s flash drive in my hands. I had put it on a chain so I could wear it around my neck and the metal was cold between my fingers. Pip cleared his throat and asked Pingu about how school and home was, and the conversation shifted away from me. I grabbed my laptop from my backpack and plugged the flash drive in, trying key after key on WinRAR, nothing working. The file stayed zipped.

France and Pip got into a debate about whether France could use his powers to heal to resurrect someone who had died, as he had gotten some strange blood or healing abilities from the Blue Lab.

“You can’t resurrect someone,” France said. “It’s not possible. You can’t heal death.”

“But you haven’t tried,” Pip said. “Maybe you just need to try.”

“Wanna volunteer?”

The others laughed and it reminded me of something Marty had once told me. “Hey, Sabbath,” I said. She was sitting next to me. “You know the musical Cats?” I knew she was obsessed with musical theater, and if anyone appreciated the factoid, she would.

“What about it?”

“Well, if you trace the events from its production, it started with a German necromancer from the 1400s. So some guy tried to raise the dead in medieval times and we ended up with a musical about cats.”

“That can’t be real,” said Sabbath, pulling out her phone and opening the internet browser.

“It is,” I said, trying a few more book titles as keys on Marty’s file. On the other side of the fire, Spark and Gooblin stabbed sticks through marshmallows and began roasting them, as Spark joked about singing Christmas carols and Danny nudged Spark, pointing at a burnt marshmallow. “Are you finishing that or…”

“Wait…” Sabbath started. “John Faustus?”

“Yeah, I think,” I said. “Neat, right?”

“That was the name of the…” Sabbath started, and the rest of the circle got quiet as she typed something else into her phone.

“Name of…?”

“Doctor Faustus, deal with the devil… Faustus,” said Sabbath. “I remember now. That’s what they called it. At the Facility. With the words, that’s what they called it. Holy shit, that’s what it was. Do you guys remember? They used to use it when we started to… I don’t know… get out of line? They always said the same phrase, but I remember… there’s so much there…”

It was as if a ding went off in my head. Look up Doctor Faustus when you get a chance; it’s a wild read. I slowly typed doctorfaustus into the box, and suddenly the dialogue box cleared, and the folder opened up.

“Guys, guys, I got it,” I said in disbelief. “I got into the files Marty left me. The password was Doctor Faustus. Why is that…” The other Lab Rats on the other side of the circle got up and came around the fire to stand around me as I clicked to open the folder and extract the hidden files. “Marty was on to something,” I whispered. “Marty knew something…”

I opened the folder and the screen filled with a ton of subfolders. articles. hydra wikileaks. shield wikileaks. social media. scam stuff. willow. patterns.

I first clicked on scam stuff, my hands shaking, and when I opened up the folder, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. There were archived emails, text files, screenshots of a conversation Marty had with someone at a data recovery center. The words blackmail crossed the screen. A data dump of archived HYDRA documents.

How the hell did Marty get his hands on this?

“What the fuck?” France asked. “What was he doing?”

I opened his hydra wikileaks folder and found pages and pages of documents from the 2014 leak, all organized and collected, exploring every bit of data that was released. And then patterns. There was a single video, and I recognized the file name from Marty’s blackmail at the data recovery center. He had stolen it, stolen it straight from HYDRA. Marty did that. Somehow, that anxious, goofy, weirdo kid did that. He did that for us. And paid the price.

“Click on it,” Dew said.

“I don’t know…” I started.

“Click on it,” Manny interrupted. “We have to watch. We have to know.”

It was a stream of a video conference, and at the center of it was Doctor Dawn Turner, sitting on a desk with a stack of papers next to her. The video was titled report_5232014_turner. She began talking and her voice sent chill straight through my heart, and some of the other Lab Rats instinctively stepped back from the screen or avoided looking altogether. The words seemed to bleed together as she discussed progress and assignments and Fausta. Monster. It was so cold, so clinical, but we started to recognize our subject numbers. Subject 10. That was me. October.

“This is about us,” Pip murmured, and we shushed him.

Resets. The Monster Book. Triggers. Compliance.

The video ended and I saw our reflections on the black screen. My heart pounding, I opened up articles. The folder contained screenshots of news stories, some pulled straight from old newspapers. I clicked through them using the right arrow key, but I hadn’t made the connection, not yet.

“These are all really old,” Burr said. “Look, that one’s from 2008.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” I said. “These are all… deaths? Obituaries? But not even of anyone important.” I continued to sort through, but I felt the pit in my stomach deepen. “This is a family in Russia. Middle of nowhere. Look at that place.”

“That’s the house from…” Fanisimo started and we turned to look at him. “I remember that house. Those woods. The cold.”

“No, this can’t…” I started. “This isn’t right. You can’t remember it. We never left the Facility.”

The faces continued to pop up on the screen and even though I knew I shouldn’t, I wasn’t supposed to, I remembered. Every single one. I clicked faster and more articles continued to come up, more unnatural deaths, more…

“Go back to the video,” Burr said. “Go back.”

We watched it again, listening closely, until Pingu interrupted with an “oh my God.”

The Monster Book. October, shh. It’s time to play Monster. Sumerkey. Nothingness. The chair. The electricity. October, are you ready to comply?

“This isn’t real,” I said. “It can’t be,” and my breaths were shallow and heavy like I had just run a marathon. “We didn’t do this. We couldn’t have. We’d…”

“Remember,” Fanisimo finished.

“They weren’t training us all those years at the Facility,” Dew whispered. “We were already working the whole time. We were… you know…”

“Killing,” I said. “That’s what Monster was. Sumerkey was the start of a series, but of course I wouldn’t remember beyond that. We’d… change somehow. Complete the assignment. Return back to the Facility. There would be a reset. And over, and over, and over.”

“How many times,” Sabbath asked, and I turned to look at her, seeing tears reflecting the bonfire’s light. “How many times were we reset? What did we do?”

“That’s why I wrote the word,” I said, thinking out loud, speaking slowly as I put it back together. “Sumerkey, on my arm. That was the last thing I remembered every time. And I realized that if I wrote it on my arm, I could pull myself out. Remember who I was before that. Or… at least… fight it. That’s why.”

The fire crackled and hissed as we played the video again, and again, as I tried to absorb Marty’s last gift to all of us. This is why they came for him, took his devices. He must have left digital fingerprints. Of course. He didn’t understand what he was dealing with. And that’s why he hid the drive.

Did he know? Did he know they were coming for him?

I looked at the dates on the drive. Marty knew. He knew all of this about you. And he still… I wanted to cry, but instead I swallowed the lump in my throat, looking into the fire as if it could evaporate the tears out of my eyes. Marty, why did you have to go looking? Why did you have to do this?

We were always the bad guys. We weren’t innocent in all this. That family…

“I can’t believe that…” Pip started, but he couldn’t finish the sentence, choking up over his own words.

“Why?” Pingu asked. “Why did they have to? 2008—we were seven. Seven years old.”

“I’m done with this shit,” Sabbath said, walking away from the fire. “I’m done. I didn’t want to know all this.”

“Fuck this,” said Danny. “I’m done, too. Why…”

The tears were contagious in our gathering and as we silently wept that Christmas Eve, we remembered. Remembered what we had done, everything we were supposed to forget. It came in flashes, in jolts of electricity, and the same series of words over and over and over. The fear when I saw Doctor Turner come in with the Monster Book. I remembered that now. Not being able to stop it. Even if the reset made us forget, that little girl still remembered every time the door opened, and the book was set down on the table.

And Marty knew. Marty knew.

They wanted us to be killers? I’ll show them a killer.

#ww writing #willow wren #gooblin #burr #pingu #sabbath #spark #france #danny #manny #pip #fanisimo #dew

[lovemychoices]

Before There Was You-5A

TRR x ROE

Three years ago while travelling in Europe, Eve Sommers was involved in a car accident. She woke up from her coma two weeks later with no memory of what happened to her in the past seven months. Three years later and still no recollection about what happened to her before the accident. But all of that is about to change. Will she finally know the truth? Will there be consequences?

*THIS SERIES PRACTICALLY THROWS CANON OUT THE WINDOW* YEET!YEET!

Characters belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them.

Word count : 1800

Chapter Summary: Eve is finally in Cordonia! What are the obstacles she’s going to face? Will she fail or come out victorious?

A/N: This is my first fiction series so it will definitely not be 100% perfect, in other words be kind 😬Grammatical errors are expected 🤣 Feedback and comments are welcomed. If you think this series could be your cup of tea then let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list, also hit that LIKE and REBLOG button if you like what you read.

Catch up with the series HERE

Warning : I’m rating this PG18 cause there will probably be PG18 stuff that’s going to happen in future chapters. So if you read this series you acknowledge that you are 18 and above.

BTWY Tag list: @thecordoniandiaries @leelee10898 @ao719 @annekebbphotography @desiree-0816 @rainbowsinthestorm @emceesynonymroll @the-soot-sprite @carabeth @cora-nova @charliejane-blog @dcbbw @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @jlpplays1 @pixieferry @romanticatheart-posts

The ride from the airport to the palace was awfully quiet, Eve was still mad at Drake about what he said back in the jet so she didn’t feel like talking much. Maxwell, who sat between them, could feel the tension that came with the awkward silence. He wondered what happened while he was asleep on the plane, he tried to break the silence with a few of his jokes only to be ignored with more silence.

The SUV starts to pull over as it reaches the main entrance of the palace. Oh thank God Maxwell thought to himself, the silence was killing him. Eve steps out the SUV followed by Maxwell and then Drake. Drake quickly walks away leaving the two at the main entrance.

“Welcome to the Cordonian Royal Palace!” Maxwell beamed excitedly. “This is where we’re going to stay most of the time for the next five months. Come on I’m excited to show you your room!” He says pulling Eve by the hand and taking her into the palace before she could even take in all of her surroundings.

****

Eve enters her room and could not help but be amazed by how big it was, it was maybe four times the size of her room back in New York. The walls were painted a soft ecru colour and paired with gold trimmings. A beautiful giant antique chandelier hung in the middle of the room with a picture of a baby cherubs eating an apple on the ceiling.

“So I assume you have something to where for tonight.” Maxwell asks.

“Huh. Sorry. What?” She shakes her head and turns her attention back to Maxwell.

“You know for the masquerade ball it’s the start of the social season.”

“I’ve packs a few dresses for the occasion but I don't think I have a mask to go with the outfit.”

“That's alright, I’m sure they’ll have some you can borrow in the palace boutique.”

Maxwell's phone buzzes, he reaches for his pocket to see who it could be. “Oh look a text message from Bertrand, I gotta go he wants to see me. You’ll be fine without me till tonight right? He asks cocking an eyebrow.

“Sure…”

“Okay cool, the ball starts at 6 so don’t be late.” He informs her and leaves in a huff.

Eve opens her suitcase to get her dress ready when she realises she doesn’t know where the boutique was. She steps outside of her room to look for Maxwell but he’s already out of sight. She reaches in her pocket for her phone to call him but her battery is dead. Damn it! she thinks. “Oh well, guess I’ll have to find my own way to the boutique.” She murmurs.

A noble woman passes by and Eve tries to ask for some directions. “Excuse me miss, would you mind telling me where I can find the boutique?” She asks politely. The woman takes one look at her and grimaces before walking away, ignoring her question. Okay not much friendly people out here. She thought. lets see if I were a boutique in a big ass palace where would I be? Not paying attention to where she is going she accidentally bumps into someone.

“Oops! Sorry princess, didn’t see you there.” Leo apologises, she turns to face him and when she does he is take aback and eyes go wide open like he’s seeing a ghost from the past. “Eve?”

Eve cocks an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

***

Three years ago - Paris, France

“Nice to meet you Eve, I’m Leo.” He smiled shaking her hand and she smiled back. “So what brings you this part of town?”

“Well I was actually going to take some photos by the Seine and check out the flea market when I got mobbed on the way.” She answers, her eyes go wide open when she realises she’s supposed to meet Ruby at the Louvre by now. She reaches for her purse but remembered her phone dropped in the river.

“Eve is something wrong?” Leo asked when he noticed she looked a bit worried.

“Um... So this is might sound a little awkward but would you mind if I borrowed your phone for a minute? I dropped mine in the river and I’m supposed to meet a friend at the Louvre right now, she’s probably worried that I haven’t shown up.”

Leo chuckles “I have a better idea, why don’t I take you there instead, it’s only a few minutes away if we take my motorcycle.”

Eve looks at him then at the motorcycle, she’s never ridden a motorcycle before. She bit her lower lip wondering if this was a good idea.

“I promise you it’s perfectly safe, do you trust me?” Leo grinned offering an extra helmet,

“Screw it.” She murmured under her breath and with a smile took the helmet. what could go wrong she thought.

***

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

Leo doesn’t answer at first his mouth slightly open a look of confusion written all over his face.

“Eve? Is that you?” A familiar voice calls from across the hall. “Liam?” Eve smiles when she sees that it’s him. Liam walks up to her and gives her a long welcoming hug.

“I’ve missed you” He says

Eve closes her eyes taking in the scent of his sandalwood cologne. “I’ve missed you too.” She replies. They pull back a few seconds later. “Sorry I would have called but my phone died.”

“That’s alright as long as you’ve safely arrive, I trust Maxwell had everything in order? Was the plane ride okay?” He asks placing his hand on her shoulders.

“It was fine Liam, more than fine, thank you.”

“That’s good to hear. Oh , where are my manners?” He grins letting go of her. “Eve I'd like to introduce my older brother, Leo.” Liam says motioning Leo at the back.

“Oh you’re Liam's older brother!” Eve beamed, giving him a quick hug taking Leo off guard. She pulls away a few seconds later smiling. “Liam has told me so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too Eve” Leo replies with a rueful smile. Of all the people in the world his brother could have fallen for it had to be her. He looked between the two rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah so, I need to go I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do.” He says and quickly turned on his heels walking the opposite direction.

Eve cocks an eyebrow as she watches Leo walk away. That was quick? She turns her attention back to Liam. “So... what's next?”

Liam heaves a sigh. “I wish I could stay and take you on a tour of the palace but i have a meeting to attend.” He took his hand in hers. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, I promise.”

“Then I shall be looking forward for tonight.” She grins. “By the way any idea where the boutique is? I kinda need to borrow a mask for the masquerade ball and I have no idea where I’m going.”

Liam chuckles. “It’s just around the corner.” He takes her right hand and kiss her knuckles giving a mischievous look. “Save me a dance tonight?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She replies with a playful wink. “Until tonight.”

****

Eve stood in front of the mirror making some final adjustments to her dress. She chose to wear a beautiful strapless scarlet red mermaid dress that clung to every curve of her body. She walked towards her dresser where her phone charging to check for any messages she might have missed. 10 miss call and 5 messages from Ruby. Oh crap I forgot to call and let her know I safely arrive Cordonia. Let’s see it’s should be almost noon there so here goes. A few dial tones later..

“Hey Red…”

“Omg! Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you all day! Do you know how worried I was?” Ruby bellowed.

“Yeah sorry, my phone died and I kinda lost track of time.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. At least you called. So how’s Cordonia treating you?”

“Hard to say I’ve only been here a couple hours, there was this really snobby woman I met and oh I did manage to run into Liam and his brother Leo—.”

Ruby spat out her drink when she heard the name. Could it be? Nah maybe it’s just a coincidence there are plenty of European guys out there with the name Leo last name Rys, could there? But just to be sure.

“Hello Red, you still there?”

“Oh yeah sure still here.. Hey Eve you wouldn’t mind sending a photo of Liam’s brother would you?”

“No, why would I have his photo and why do you want one?”

“Oh you know just.. to for some background check…” Ruby stutters

“Right…” Eve replies with a skeptical tone. “I don’t know, trying searching the Royal Archives online or something I’m sure he’s in it. Listen I love to continue this conversation but I’ve got an event I need to get you. Text you later on the details?”

“You’d better…”

They both hang up while Eve continued to get herself ready, Ruby quickly clicks on her googles app on her phone typing the Cordonian royal archives on the search engine. A few clicks later, her eyes go wide open when she finds out it Liam’s brother really is the Leo.

Ruby runs to her room opening her closet and taking out a box which was well hidden inside a secret hole in the wall. She opened the box and takes out a cellphone, which used to belong to Eve. She turns the phone on and looks through Eve’s phone book wondering if Leo still uses the same number. Couldn’t hurt to try.

Leo sat on the ottoman in his room staring up at the ceiling trying to wrap his head around what he just saw. He feels his phone buzzing in his pocket and takes it out, his eye go wide open when he sees the number that was calling. Could it be? Does she remember who I am?

“Hello?”

“You son of a bitch—”

Leo heaves a sigh. “Ruby it’s nice to hear from you again.”

“Listen you! I don’t know what shit you’ve got planned but if you—.”

“If this is about Eve, believe me I was as shocked as you are. And you know I would never do anything to hurt her intentionally ”

“Look I’m not mad at you for what happened in the past, that’s all in the past. But do you think it’s a good idea to be around her? What if she remembers what if she gets hurt again? Can’t you just leave?”

“Believe me I would if I could but I promised my brother I’d be here the entire social season to help him out, if I knew she was the one he was vying for I would have never made that promise and left before this whole thing began.” He shook his head. “Karma really is a little bitch.”

Ruby pinched the bridge of her nose trying to gather her thoughts and calm down. “Loook Leo, I’m sorry if I got all mad and shouted at you earlier on but you know how much I love Eve. I just don’t want her to relive all the pain she went through before a second time.”

“I understand and I promise, I’ll try my best to keep my distance.”

Ruby heaves a sigh. “I’m trusting you Leo.”

“I know…”

****

#the royal romance #playchoices #drake walker #king liam #leo rys #leo x mc #liam rys #liam x mc #not choices #prince leo #trr liam #trr drake #trr hana #trr maxwell #trr #trr au #trr x roe

[thekillingquill]

Question Marks & Emoji Hearts 1/2

Pairing: Peter Parker x OC Word Count: 3,799 Warnings: This is my first ever attempt at writing a fluffy fic. Summary: Step 1: Get her number. Step 2: Engage in some accidental flirting. Step 3: Never let her go. A/N: This is part 1/2 because this fic ran away from me, joined the union and demanded more words. Real Talk: I’m so god damn nervous about this fic (I’ve had like 27 crises of confidence.... so shoutout to my friends for dealing with me). Any feedback on this fic would be the fuel necessary for me to confidently and efficiently finish part two. I’m also keeping a tag list for when I post part 2. Okay thanks. Let’s go!!!

Peter Parker is speechless, his jaw relaxed in an expression of unfiltered awe. His eyes are frozen on her and he knows he’s staring, but he just can’t stop. He’s convinced that he will never see anything this beautiful ever again.

She is 7,541 pieces of perfection waiting for him to do something with her.

“I know,” Ned says, patting his friend on the shoulder. “I cried when I saw her for the first time, too. Check out the BB-8 droid that came with it and it has two buildable Porgs and a buildable Mynock.” Peter’s head turned sharply toward his friend.

“Dude, no way.” If getting the Lego Death Star had been difficult, finding the newest Millennium Falcon set had been a miracle. Ned’s parents were going to get it for him for Christmas, but it sold out in less than a minute so they stuck an I.O.U. in his stocking. Peter throws his backpack, with the Spider-Man suit inside, into the corner of Ned’s room and narrowly misses the desk lamp.

Peter settles down on the floor and reaches for the box to read the specs while Ned sits on his computer chair, lowering it to the ground. Ned swivels toward his desk and turns on an old clock radio, tuning into a news station so they can listen for anything that might require Spider-Man’s assistance.

They work on the Millennium Falcon for about an hour before Ned’s phone slips out of his pocket and lands in front of Peter with a soft thud followed by a loud vibration against the carpet. Peter flips the phone over and nearly drops it again when he sees who is calling: Autumn MacGowan, complete with a contact photo. The picture had to have been taken in the last five days because she got a haircut on Tuesday (Peter thought the shorter look suited her nicely).

Ned pulls his phone out of Peter’s loose grip and answers the call enthusiastically.

“Hey Autumn!” Ned pauses and his smile brightens considerably. “I’m good, thanks. How are you doing?” Peter moves into a crouch, leaning closer to Ned and focusing on listening. He can hear her soft voice, tinny through the phone, responding to Ned with her thoughtful way of speaking.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m actually calling because my plans for tomorrow have fallen through. I was wondering if you’d like to get together after school.”

“Yeah, that would be great! I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her laugh washes over Peter and he closes his eyes, trying to memorize the sound.

“See you tomorrow, Ned.” Peter opens his eyes in time to see Ned hang up.

“Yo-you have Autumn MacGowan’s phone number?” Peter asks immediately. Ned shoots his friend a perplexed look.

“Yeah, we have history together.” Peter gulps, eyes widening and lips pressing tightly together with nerves.

“You guys--you have history with Autumn MacGowan?” He asks in a daze. Ned reaches out and presses the hand holding his cell phone against Peter’s shoulder. Peter looks down at his friend’s hand and then quickly back to Ned’s worried expression.

“Yeah. We’ve got to do a presentation next week on how American history has influenced media. Autumn suggested that we focus on how Hollywood exploits historical figures for profit.” It takes a few moments for Peter to decipher his friend’s words. It clicks and his mouth opens in shock, eyes widening further.

“When you said history you meant like the class!” He blurts and Ned frowns.

“Yeah, what did you think I meant?”

“I-I don’t know! That you guys dated, maybe.” Ned laughs with his head thrown back, rotating in his computer chair lazily.

“You like Autumn! Hey, do you want her number? She’s really nice, she probably won’t mind.”  Peter places both of his hands on Ned’s shoulders, squeezing gently.

“Th-that would be incredible! Thank you!”

“Guy in the chair,” Ned announces with pride, tossing Peter his cell phone.

“Guy in the chair,” Peter echoes as he leans back, catching the phone deftly while falling out of his crouch and into a more comfortable seated position. His fingers move swiftly to type in Ned’s passcode. Peter quickly pulls up her contact information and he pauses to admire her contact picture. Her hair is pushed over her left shoulder and the soft half smile combined with the sparkle in her eyes makes his stomach jolt with excitement.

He shakes himself from her spell to pull out his own phone, which has seen better days, but pauses before entering her number. He taps his fingers on the side of Ned’s phone before coming to the decision to open a new text message.

Can I ask you a question?

Hardly a second has passed before the three dots materialize and then a reply comes through.

Always.

Peter’s fingers fly quickly over the letters, formulating his question.

Can I give my friend Peter your number? Parker. Peter Parker. He’s in your chemistry class. And Spanish. And gym.

“What are you doing?” Ned asks with a laugh. Peter looks up at his best friend with a sheepish smile.

“Well I uh, I thought it would be best if we asked first, you know? It might make her feel weird if I just texted her. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable or-or think I’m creepy.”

“Oh. Good idea.” Peter glances down at the phone in time to see that she replied and for the screen to lock. He rapidly types in the passcode, and the two letters in her reply makes him feel like he’s soaring.

OK.

He starts transferring her number, and her picture, to his phone’s contacts. He takes care to ensure that each number is punched in with accuracy. He’s thinking about how he’s going to start a conversation with her when Ned calls his name. Peter hums softly in acknowledgement, struggling to pull his focus off his phone.

“Peter, Queens needs Spider-Man.” Peter scrambles to get up off the floor, sliding to his backpack in the corner. He pulls out his suit, and turns to toss Ned his phone back, holding his own up to his best friend.

“Text me the details,” he tells him before slipping out the window and climbing to the roof.

Hey it’s Peter. Can I ask you a question? He reads back his words for the third time and lets out an elongated sigh of exhaustion. Peter’s thumb hovers over the send button and he thinks about apologizing just in case she’s busy and his message intrudes on her private time.

He indulges himself with a fantasy of her in her bedroom, back pressed against her headboard and a book resting on her breasts. Her hair will be a mess of curls, a result of her recent haircut, and her eyes will move swiftly from left to right as she devours each sentence. They will follow the rise and fall of her book as she breathes. He imagines that her lips will part in shock at an unexpected twist.

He pulls himself out of the fantasy and taps send, putting his phone face down on his stomach with a groan. He’s still wearing the Spider-Man suit, minus the mask, and feels too tired to move from his bed to strip it off and hide it away. The aching in his muscles is a sign that he had a good patrol and it makes Peter feel like the streets of Queens are at least a little safer tonight.

Peter’s phone hums under his hand and he tilts the screen up tentatively, afraid to get his hopes up, but it’s her. He brings the phone forward and he unlocks it to read her message.

Hey, Peter! Ask away. Sent at 1:59 AM. Peter chokes on his breath, noticing for the first time just how late it actually is. His fingers move swiftly over the keys.

What are you still doing up?! He presses send on the message before he has the chance to overthink it. Her response comes just as quickly and Peter takes a moment to appreciate the fact that he’s actually having a conversation with Autumn MacGowan.

Is that really what you wanted to ask? She took the care to include an emoji with its tongue sticking out which lessens the sting of Peter’s embarrassment. He hits send on his new message again before he succumbs to his own social awkwardness and lets the conversation die.

No, I actually wanted to ask if we have any chemistry. Peter sets his phone to the side, satisfied with his excuse for texting her, and finds the energy to roll off of his bunk bed. He lands soundlessly in a crouch, wincing as his body throbs in pain. Bzzz. He straightens up to loosen the fabric of his suit and lets it fall away to leave him standing in the middle of his room wearing nothing but his red and white plaid boxers.

He clumsily kicks off the suit and moves to the mirror in his bedroom. Bzzz. He can’t see any bruising and experimentally moves his limbs to come to the conclusion that he’s only dealing with muscle aches. Bzzz. Peter leaps lithely onto the ladder of his bunk bed at the sound of his buzzing phone. He feels around on the mattress, groaning when he can’t reach it. He crawls across the mattress, grabbing his phone and flipping onto his back with one leg still dangling over the edge.

Is... that a pickup line? Peter’s eyes widen in horror and he scrolls up to his last message.

“Oh my god, Peter, you idiot.” He whispers to himself.

Wow, Parker, I didn’t think you’d be so forward. Peter groans.

“I wouldn’t.” He says out loud to his empty room.

Full disclosure: I’m impressed. The execution could have been smoother, but I’m still impressed. His stomach clenches at her last message, is it butterflies or nerves? Peter’s fingers fly rapidly across the keys, doing as much damage control as one can at 2:00 am.

I’m so sorry! I meant do we have any chemistry homework!!!??? I’m an idiot. He didn’t mean to hit send. The I’m an idiot was meant to be something cathartic for himself. He doesn’t need to TELL her he’s an idiot when he’s perfectly capable of showing her, obviously. His phone buzzes again.

1. Chemistry homework was to read the next chapter. 2. You’re not an idiot! You’re one of the smartest guys I know. 3. I’m still impressed, okay? 4. As you pointed out earlier, it’s late. So I am going to go to sleep. See you at school! 5. I don’t like my numbered lists to end on an even number. <3 Peter grins at his screen, his stomach jolting again at how unexpectedly adorable her message is.

Thanks! Have a good night. He throws his head back dramatically with a groan. All he wants is to keep talking to her, but he just straight white male-d the conversation.

Every night for the next two weeks, Peter has to start the conversation from scratch with Hey, can I ask you a question? To Autumn’s credit, the answer is almost always prompt and positive. And every night, Peter learns something new about her.

She has an older sister named April. And a dog named Gatsby. She likes Thai food and she thinks having her phone at the dinner table is rude. Her favourite class is photography and she likes when he wears shirts with science puns. She drinks a hot chocolate every day.

Each time she shares something personal about herself with him, Peter feels like he’s flying.

Or maybe he’s falling.

“Looks like Yearbook Club is out to get pictures before school. Hey, how’s my hair?” Peter looks up from his textbook at the sound of Ned’s voice, glancing at his friend from around his locker door and then down the hall. His eyes are, as usual, drawn to Autumn MacGowan immediately.

Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, the shorter length allowing for strands to escape the tie and curl around her neck where her camera hangs. She cradles the camera delicately, one hand under the base and one curled around the lens. Autumn snaps pictures as she walks down the hall. Walks towards him, Peter realizes with a jolt of excitement.

Their interactions at school have been minimal: a hand raised in recognition, prolonged eye contact across a crowded classroom, a quiet hello as they pass in the halls. His favourite, though, is the smile she seems to have reserved just for him. It’s the kind of smile given to someone you share a secret with and seeing it never fails to thrill him.

He tries to temper down the feeling of excitement and waits for her to pass by, to flash him the secret smile, but she stops in front of them. Peter’s breathing stutters in surprise, his heart pounding harder in his chest.

“Good morning Ned,” she greets, disappearing behind her camera to snap a quick picture of him. “I heard a rumour that we’ll be getting our marks back today.”

“That’s awesome.” Ned turns to Peter, nudging his arm. “We crushed it.”

“Wh-what?” Peter asks dumbly, looking quickly to Ned before bringing his gaze back to Autumn. He knows that he’s staring, but he can’t seem to help it. For the first time since she stopped to talk to Ned, Autumn turns her gaze on Peter.

“Our presentation. The one for History class? I told you about it.” Even though Ned is speaking, Autumn doesn’t let her eyes stray away from Peter.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Peter mumbles to Ned. He sucks in a shallow breath as Autumn’s lips form that secret smile. A little bubble of laughter slips past her lips and he can only stare at how it makes her glow.

“You wear grey really well, Parker.” And then she snaps a picture of him, so quickly that he doesn’t have time to conjure a smile. “I like the red plaid you have here.” She stops cradling the lense of her camera to bring a finger to touch the collar of his shirt. Autumn takes two steps backward and tilts her head to the side, like he’s a work of art mean to be admired from a distance. And then in a much quieter, more intimate tone, she tells him: “You look very handsome, Peter.”

He looks down at his shoes quickly, trying to control his blushing, and then peeks up at her through his lashes with an embarrassed half smile. It’s the moment she is waiting for, and she captures it forever--the first time she sees him blush from something she’s said. Peter licks his lips nervously as she assesses the image on her screen, her bottom lip becoming trapped between her teeth. She taps her thumb on the side of the camera before looking up at Peter with her lips pressed tightly together and he’s frozen, waiting for her to decide how they move forward together.

“Can I ask you a question?” She asks tentatively. Peter nods enthusiastically.

“Yeah, yeah of course!” She takes a step closer to Peter, offering her camera to him.

“Would it be okay with you if I put this in my portfolio?” He glances at the image and then back at her face.

“Really?” He asks her with mild skepticism. She fidgets with the settings on her camera to avoid Peter’s gaze.

“Yeah, really. It’s a good picture. No, it’s a great picture, actually.”

“Yeah, it is. Of course you can use it in your portfolio. I’m-I’m honoured, really.” Peter can see her swallowing back what she really wants to say, has seen her do this a hundred times in class, but he wants to be the person she tells everything to. He doesn't want her censored. He wants all of her intricate thoughts, all of her ugly secrets, and even her most ridiculously random thoughts.

So he takes a chance and pushes her a little, the way she did for him on the first night he texted her.

"Is that really what you wanted to ask me?" She presents him with a closed mouth smile, the words locked behind her teeth. "I just get the sense that you want to ask me about more than your portfolio."

"It's not a question," she begins carefully, her gaze sliding over to Ned. Peter also directs his attention to look at Ned who has his thumbs under the straps of his backpack and an amused grin on his face as he watches all of this unfold. Peter clenches his jaw and gives a slight jerk of his head. Ned doesn’t seem to be picking up on what Peter is trying to communicate.

"It's more like a request," she finishes. Peter looks back at Autumn quickly, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Anything." She laughs again, her head tilting back and her hands tightening its grip on her camera.

"Peter, you don't even know what it is!"

"Well, I will if you tell me." That brings that secret smile to her face again and Peter feels a surge of pride for being the person solely responsible for putting it there. Her smile diminishes slightly as she looks around the hall.

“Can we go somewhere a little more private?” She asks quietly, beginning to fidget with the focus lens on her camera. Peter shoots a quick look to Ned, assessing his best friend’s reaction. Ned nods emphatically, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“Yeah, yeah, sure, we can do that.” Autumn’s eyes are bright, Peter thinks it could be from excitement, and she takes her hand off of the lens of her camera to reach for his. Peter gulps and follows her lead, slipping his hand further into hers to grip it. She smiles at him and gives a gentle tug, beginning to lead him away from his locker. Peter looks quickly over his shoulder at his best friend and Ned gives him two thumbs up and a supportive grin.

Ned isn’t the only student at Midtown who has taken notice of Peter and Autumn. Peter catches sight of Flash’s incredulous expression as they pass by.

“Was the Penis Parker with Autumn MacGowan?” Flash asks the person standing next to him. The disbelief in Flash’s voice gives Peter yet another reason to smile. Autumn squeezes his hand, rubbing her thumb against his wrist under the sleeve of his sweater. The main reason he has for smiling.

Autumn guides them into the library and brings them to the hallway on the left that leads to eight small study rooms for students to utilize. She walks up to Room 4, which is very clearly occupied, and knocks quietly twice. After a moment, the door opens a crack and Autumn whispers lowly to the occupant.

“I need the room.”

“Okay, for how long?”

“I don’t know, but you owe me.”

“I know. Let me just get my stuff.” The door closes again and after a minute or so opens again to reveal a girl that Peter doesn’t immediately recognize. She stands in the doorway, her eyes focusing on where his hand envelopes Autumn’s. A smirk slowly emerges.

“Oh, I get it now.” She says laughingly to Autumn.

“Shut up,” Autumn mutters defensively, pushing past the girl and pulling Peter along with her. The girl’s laughter is muted once the door shuts behind them. Autumn takes a deep breath, releasing Peter’s hand to lift her camera over her head and place it on the table in the center of the room.

His hand feels cold without hers. This change in location feels like it has ruined the flow of their conversation and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Autumn turns to face him abruptly, taking two long steps until she’s toe to toe with him.

"Please don't give that look to any other girls.” She pauses, taking another deep breath to gather her courage. “They might just go and fall in love with you, too."

It takes him a moment to process what she’s said, to recognize the fear and the hope in her expression. He feels too much all at once: disbelief, hope, adoration, pride, excitement, happy, brave, stupid, lucky, untouchable, and maybe something that could be the beginning of his first great love story.

So he does the only thing that makes sense to him in that moment.

“Hey Autumn, can I-can I ask you a question?” She looks up at him, her cheeks flushed and it seems to Peter like her heart may be cracked open just for him, and nods. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” her voice is soft, but sure. Peter honestly didn’t expect her to say yes and, now that she has, he isn’t sure how to proceed. One part of him wants to just dive in and kiss her, but the other part of him wants to take his time to really commit the moment to memory.

His hands shake as he brings them to touch her cheeks softly. He uses one hand to lightly trace along her cheekbone to her jaw until he is gently cupping the back of her neck.

“Are you sure?” He asks, because maybe she changed her mind.

Her answer is to curl her fingers in the collar of his shirt and lean up to press her mouth to his with intent. Peter inhales sharply through his nose, breathing in her scent of something sweet and citrusy, and takes his hand from her face to press against her back, keeping her steady. Her lips part slightly against his and Peter sighs in contentment, a sound echoed by Autumn when he pulls back to press a lingering kiss to her cheek.

Peter closes his eyes, pressing his face into her neck as she reaches up to wrap her arms around his shoulders in an embrace. He sighs happily and presses another kiss to her cheek. He can’t get enough of this feeling, of her scent and her warmth. It all feels like a very good dream.

“I’ve wanted to do that for months.” He whispers to the room. Autumn laughs, beginning to run her fingers through his hair. He bites his lip to keep from moaning at how nice it feels to be touched so gently.

“I’ve been waiting for that kiss since you held open the door for me at Freshmen orientation.” Peter laughs into her neck, squeezing her closer.

“Sorry I kept you waiting for so long.” The first bell rings and Autumn pulls away from him. Her smile is so beautiful.

“That’s okay. I knew you were going to be worth the wait, Peter Parker.”

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