#i need to get a project done this weekend and screen in at LEAST 5 articles

[yunhonumeris1fane]

Mad at you•JYH

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"You've been under a lot of stress, struggling to take care of yourself, which made your boyfriend worry and caused a short fallout between you"

genre - angst to fluff

pairing - bf yunho x reader

warnings- an argument between the reader and Yunho.

"Y/n, why aren't you sleeping, I thought you came over to sleep" Yunho enters the living room, yawning excessively, as it was around 11 p.m.

 Your upstairs neighbours have been renovating their apartament for weeks now, not feeling a tad bit guilty for disrupting your life even during late hours, weekends. You found yourself unable to focus and sleep, leaving you stressed out. Yunho suggested you to come over and stay at his place, to get a good night's sleep and do your projects, as it was peaceful here. And now that you're here, instead of going to sleep, you shrug it off and work on your projects.

"I'm really busy, I have two days to finish this project" you sigh, looking up to meet his eyes, he's not smiling as usual, instead there's worry lingering around his face.

"You can do it tomorrow. Go to sleep. When was the last time you had a full night's sleep huh. At least 5 hours?"

"Doesn't matter, go to sleep yourself, I'll join you later" You murmur, your half hooded eyes back on the laptop screen. Sleep deprivation is catching up.

"I can't stand watching you acting this stupid Y, get a grip of yourself " Yunho raises his voice a little, feeling hopeless, unsure of what else to do to help you.

"Then don't watch, just leave" you snap at him, as his face goes blank.

"You know, I really wanted to help you, but if you don't need my help, then it's fine" he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, disappointment in his voice is hard not to notice.

"I don't need help" you mumble, busy typing into the laptop, "leave me alone"

"Say that again" his jaw clenches, as he looks at you in disbelief, "and look me in the eyes"

 You lift your eyes to face him, "c-can you stop talking please, l-leave, I-I'm busy" your voice breaks a little, as now not only your work is stressing you out, but Yunho's nagging too.

 That is enough for Yunho, he gives up and goes back to his room, slamming the door shut. 

 'Was I too harsh?' You wonder to yourself, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. When you're under a lot of stress, the worst version of you tends to come out. You accidentally hurt people, even if you don't really mean it.

 The guilt catches up with you, so you find yourself standing by the door to his bedroom. You really want to barge in and hug him, begging for forgiveness. But you can't seem to bring yourself up to knock on the door, so turn around and tippytoe back to the living room.

 Yunho was really good at persuading people, as you are now closing your laptop shut and going to the bathroom, to take a shower, with a plan in mind to sleep on the couch later on.

 As you're headed to the bathroom, Yunho comes out of his room, to get himself a glass of water. Your eyes meet for a second, but no words leave your mouths.

 Once in the bathroom, you hang your clothes on the hook and step into the shower. In less than 30 minutes, you step out, water droplets running down all over your body. Your body feels clean, but inside you feel dirty.

 As you fetch a large towel and wrap it around your body, securing it at top, you glance at the mirror, covered in fog, from the steamy shower earlier. Your head feels a little dizzy, you don't know whether it's from the lack of sleep, not eating well enough or stress. The longer you stare at yourself, the worse the dizziness gets. You take in a couple of deep breaths, but it doesn't help, once you start hearing ringing in your ears, you know you're done. And so you collapse, unable to hold yourself conscious for any longer.

 When Yunho hears a loud thud coming from the bathroom, his heart stops for a moment. He abandons the glass of water and sprints to the bathroom. Swinging the door open, he sees your body laying on the tile floor. He quickly brings himself down to you, to check if you're hurt, but he doesn't see any wounds, so he slides his arms under your legs, your back and picks you up, carrying you to the bedroom. He gently lays your body down on the bed and goes back to the bathroom to take your clothes and change you into dry ones. Once he's done, he covers you with a blanket and sits beside you, patiently waiting for you to wake up.

 Moments later you flutter your heavy eyelids and see Yunho holding your hand, a soft smile displayed on his face.

 "I'm really sorry, I was so stressed, didn't know what I was talking about" you apologise to him, as your other hand finds its way on top of his.

"It's okay silly, I know you didn't mean it" Yunho shows his understanding, speaking in a comforting, gentle voice.

"Go sleep, I'll go brush my teeth and be back" he smiles as he brings his lips to your forehead, placing a warm and loving kiss, before disappearing for a good five minutes.

 When he's back, you make some space for him, as he slides his body under the covers and wraps his hands around your waist, bringing you closer to his body. Your back pressed against his chest, as he's nuzzled into your neck, taking it the sweet vanilla aroma from your shower gel.

"I love you, let's not fight again" Yunho suggests, as you feel his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of warm kisses.

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#jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #ateez x reader #ateez

[duckprintspress]

How can I write quickly?

I (hi, I’m @unforth) have been asked frequently over the years how I write a lot quickly. I’m a pretty fast writer - for example, I wrote the 5600 words of my May Trope Mayhem fill from yesterday in under 2.5 hours. 

First, a little of my personal history for context. I’ve always written, starting from when I was able to string letters into (very poorly spelled) words and (horrible un-grammatical) sentences. When I started trying my hand at serious, professional-level fiction writing, I joined a community called novel_in_90, which was founded by the author Elizabeth Bear. The purpose of novel_in_90 was “to be NaNoWriMo but more realistic.” Instead of 50,000 words in 31 days, it was 67,500 words in 90 days, or 750 words a day. I participated in multiple rounds of novel_in_90 starting in mid-2005, and in 2007 I completed my first (godawful) novel. When I started, even writing a couple hundred words of day took me forever, but it got easier with time. 

During those same years, I also got a job that required I do professional writing on a deadline: I was a grant writer, and I only got paid when the grants won. That often meant working fast under high pressure, culminating in the weekend I wrote and edited an entire 40 pages grant that was due on Monday. I think, if I hadn’t had a solid foundation of “regular daily plodding writing,” I’d not have been able to marathon when the moment came...and it came because I had to, not because I wanted to. However, I learned a valuable lesson: I could. Subsequently, I found that, when I had the time and space and was rested enough to use my brain, I could bust out a huge amount. Like, I wrote an entire 150,000 word novel in 17 days.

My personal record is about 200,000 words in one month (it was the month I wrote that novel; I wasn’t tracking when I did that so I don’t know exactly), 25,000 words in a day, and I’ve topped out around 3,000 words an hour. I do know people who can do more...but not many.

Not everyone will be able to do this. Flat out, I MUST preface the rest of this post by saying that. Some people will find that writing fast fits their brain, and for others, it just won’t, and that’s okay. Fast doesn’t equal better, and it isn’t inherently “good” to write fast. Furthermore, even for those who can write fast, not everyone will find the same strategies helpful. I can share what works for me. Try out one item, some items, or all of these - if writing faster is something you want to be able to do, which it certainly never has to be. Use what works for you, and discard the rest.

Sit in your chair, put your fingers on your keyboard or touch screen, and write. You can’t write 1,000 words in half an hour until you write one word, however long that one word takes. I know saying this is obvious, but I’ve been asked “how can I write fast” by people who struggle to write at all...fast can’t be your priority until you’ve got a foundation of just writing. (Honestly...fast should never be your priority, but it might be helpful to you regardless, which can make it worth learning.)

Start small. Set an achievable goal, and make yourself meet that goal (daily, weekly, whatever) come hell or high water, no matter how long it takes you. Keep the goal small at first; you’re not trying to torture yourself, you’re trying to build a skill. If you set the goal high enough that you consistently fail, you’re not teaching yourself anything. And, if you find the goal IS too high...lower it. There’s no shame in working within your limits. Think of it like starting a new work out regimen: you wouldn’t try to run a 10k at a record time if you can’t run a mile slow. Treat your fingers and your brain the same way you’d treat your legs and joints. Give them time to grow, learn, and improve before you try to push yourself.

Trying to write daily is worthwhile if you want to work on your writing speed, because you’ll be forced to try to fit it in as you’re able - that might be ten minutes in your morning, or an hour in your evening, and it might vary from day to day, but making it daily means you have to fit it in somewhere.

Building skills takes time and isn’t easy. For some people, it will come easier than for others, and even when you’re fast, going from “I can write words fast” to “I can write damn good words fast” takes practice and dedication and accepting constructive criticism - speed alone will never be worth more than writing well.

Having a community can help. Ya’ll will check in on each other, cheer each other on, remind each other that missing a day or a goal isn’t the end of the world, and keep each other’s spirits up. If you don’t know other writerly folks online, I recommend Weekend Writing Marathon ( @weekendwritingmarathon ) as a good place to start (I used to be a mod there). Once you’re trying to work up to larger word counts in a day, remember that even writing fast will take minutes or hours. You can’t write 2,500 words in an hour if you don’t set an hour aside. Make sure you’re giving yourself the room and time you need to succeed.

You will probably never be able to do high, rapid word counts every day, every week, every month. The best runners in the world don’t run marathons every day. Set realistic long term goals.

Work on projects where you have a clear idea of where you’re going. I’m not saying “pantsers” can’t write fast, because of course they can, but if you want to write fast, and well, and coherently, to create a first draft that’s in pretty good shape, you’ll do better if you have a good sense of what you’re trying to accomplish with your story. That doesn’t mean you need to do all your world building up front, or have a complete outline (I never have either). All you really need is what happens next. I tend to plan projects - and write them - one full scene at a time, with only a vague idea what’s going to come after. (I’m personally a “plantser,” and the strategies in this post will likely be most effective to other plantsers.)

Visualize ahead of time what you’d like to write...but don’t get too attached to what you visualize. When I go to bed, I plan the next scene I’m going to compose, often to the least detail. I then forget all of it overnight, at least all the specifics, and I’m left with a general sense and shape of what’s to come. You’ll never be able to replicate the “perfect” dialog you pre-conceive, so give up on trying to. Instead, play through the scene and think about the emotional beats you want to hit and plot points you want to forward. If you keep that in mind, you’ll be able to get the words out faster than if you’re agonizing over every word or regretting the “oh-so-great” idea that you’ve since forgotten. 

Practice different work styles. If writing every day doesn’t work for you, try instead saying, “this is my writing day each week,” and aim for a lot that specific day, and write little or nothing other days. Try writing at different times of day and on different days, fitting it into your schedule. If you’re beating yourself up for not writing when you “should,” it’ll be that much harder to succeed, so instead, as I said for point 2 - set a reasonable goal that fits your life and working style, fitting it around your other responsibilities, and push yourself within that framework, instead of trying to shoehorn into a style that you “think you should” use to succeed. 

Track your word counts, and take notes on how much you did and what project you were working on. If you’re also experimenting with different times of day and different days, make sure you note that too. I personally use a simple Excel sheet (well, Google Sheets, now) - column one is the date, column 2 is “starting word count,” column 3 is “ending word count,” column 4 is “=column 3 - column 2”, column 5 is notes. Pay attention to when you succeed at writing faster, and when you don’t, and consider what factors might have played into your success...and then try to replicate those factors next time you’re doing a sprint. Control as many variables as you can while you’re “training.”

If you find social media distracting, trying getting a web browser extension that prevents you from connecting to websites for a set period of time.

If you find you tend to dither before starting, I find it helpful to run through everything that I might do to procrastinate (check my social media! grab a snack! make some tea! set up my playlist! check my social media again! finish making the tea! check my social media for what I swear will be the last time!), and when I’m done, it’s like, well, I’ve done all those things, I’ve got no choice left, time to write, no excuses left.

If you find you struggle with picking up a WIP, try leaving off in the middle of a sentence at the end of a session, one where you know exactly how it ends - or, leave off mid-paragraph, or when you are positive you know what happens next (and I mean literally next, as in the very next sentence.) It’s much easier to “pick back up” when your first words are super clear. (Do not do this if you think there’s any chance you’ll forget or end up in a situation where you won’t return to your WIP for months!) 

If you find you struggle to maintain continuity across multiple writing sessions, try rereading what you wrote the previous day before you proceed. Resist the urge to edit it!

Avoid stopping when you get stuck, even to do research. Don’t know a fact? Add a comment to your manuscript flagging the relevant text, “LOOK THIS UP LATER.” Can’t think of a word? Put in something you can use the “find” function on easily (I personally use “XX” since there are no words that have a double x in them) and so you can come back later, search for your chosen placeholder, and fill in the blanks. Not sure how a scene ends but know the next scene? Jump ahead.

That said, if you really don’t know what happens next, you don’t do yourself any favors by pressing on. As I’ve said previously, speed alone should never be your writing object. It’s better to slow down, consider your plot, figure out where you’re going, and then write, than to just plow ahead - or at least, that’s better if you want a manuscript you’ll actually be able to use for something at a later point. If you’re truly just practicing, you can also say “screw it, who needs coherence?” and keep going. I’d personally never have finished my first novel if I’d spent a lot of time worrying about making the pieces fit together and yeah, it’s a mess, but it’s a mess I wrote instead of a mess I got stuck on and never completed.

Don’t move the finish line. If you’ve set the goal of 500 words a day, don’t beat yourself up if you get 550 because you think you think you could have done more. If you say you’ll write five days a week, don’t get mad because you DID have time the sixth day but chose to use it on something else. If you make yourself feel like shit when you succeed, what’ll happen when you fail? And when you’re comfortable and really think you’re ready, change the goal - reassess every month, say, and up your goals. While working for speed, trying upping your word count goal without changing the amount of time you allot for working.

Your need to adhere to the above suggestions will change over time. Once, I always had an outline; now I often don’t need one. Once, I wouldn’t let myself stop even to use a thesaurus; now, I find I can look up words without breaking my flow or significantly slowing myself down. This is not an “all or nothing” prospect, nor is it a “do things the same way forever once you’ve found one (1) thing that works” prospect - you’ll experiment, and find strategies that work for you, and then at some point, your needs will change, and you’ll experiment more, and find new strategies that work for you, on and on, as your skills grow. 

To reiterate: writing fast should never be your objective in and of itself! Greater writing speed will come with practice and as a general side effect of improving your craft. Simply being able to write fast is useless; being able to write fast and well will enable you to get more of your ideas out there, so if that’s something you’d like to accomplish, focus on building your general skills and training yourself to be able to use those skills rapidly and in tandem with each other to produce decent writing, in a first draft, at a decent speed.

Once you try, you may find none of this works for you! That’s okay. That’s good! You tried, which means you learned something about yourself and your own writing style, and that too will help you to improve. Keep experimenting, keep learning, and find what does work for you - and accept that no two writers will ever be the same, and one of those differences will be writing speed. Some writers will never write fast, and that’s doesn’t make them any less awesome or valid. And some writers will always write fast, and that doesn’t make them inherently awesome or valid. Only with a suite of skills that suit your individual life, personality, work style, writing capabilities, goals, etc., will you succeed as a writer (for various, personalized definitions of the word “success”); speed is only one of those potential skills, and not one that’s particularly important in my opinion...yet I still get asked about it fairly often, so here we are, these are my suggestions

Go forth, and write some words! <3

#duck prints press #writing advice #original content

[nicohverse]

Entropic Float Biweekly Update #16

This update's art is from Ham Mug on skeb!

Fair warning, this artist does a lot of NSFW art. It's hidden by default if you're not logged in/haven't changed your settings on skeb, but I figured I would disclaim that first!

This Madeline really looks amazing. She's so powerful... Though she's a 'side character' to the narrative of Entropic Float, she's a personal favorite of mine! Fun fact, she started out as a fancharacter for Magical Girl Raising Project, but I fell in love with the design and had to repurpose her for an original work~

My progress since last time is pretty solid, so let's go ahead and get right into that!

Writing:

The majority of what I've done since last time is writing! How much writing?

7/31 standard segments. I misread my own outline last time, and turns out I had 3, not 2, completed at the time. The four segments since then are three puzzle rooms and the landing section between those and the next three.

I have 17/36 Memory Seeking segments written. That's nearly halfway already, and is 8 new segments since last time!

This works out to 24/74 segments of the Miracle Route. Now that I've built what I need, I expect to be able to ramp up the writing even more, but I already more than doubled what I had at this time two weeks ago! Here's to another productive two weeks!

Voice Acting:

No change since last time

Background Music:

No change since last time

My goal progress from last time:

- Write at least 3 Standard Segments Done! I wrote 4

- Write at least 5 Memory Seeking Segments Done! I wrote 8

- Create the second batch of new assets for the Miracle Route Done!

- Implement imagebuttons for the Memory Seeking screen Done!

My goals for next time:

-Write 7 Standard Segments, completing two different puzzle room sets.

-Write at least 6 Memory Seeking Segments

-Create the third batch of new assets for the Miracle Route

-Create the fourth batch of new assets for the Miracle Route

The imagebutton implementation did take some time- It ended up being basically all I was able to get done last weekend. All of my other progress, excluding maybe a few sentences, has been from weekdays or from this weekend. And hey, this weekend's not quite over yet! I might be able to get a little bit more written. I always put this update last on my EF To-Do list on Sundays, but that doesn't mean I'm done for the day when I post it, just that I finished everything I wanted to before it was time to share!

It's also worth noting that among my 'standard segments', there are actually 4 that are styled the same way as the Memory Seeking Segments. The epilogues are, as well. The main draw of this style is that I can write it while away from my home computer- Mainly, what I need to do at home is writing that involves active code, and to some extent, scenes that use talksprites. So we could technically also say that rather than 31, 36, and 7, I have 27 and 47. 27 segments that absolutely need to be written at my desktop computer, and 47 segments that can be written from my laptop. Maybe that's an arbitrary distinction, but it helps me to keep in mind, and maybe it'll give you more faith in me to hit my goals if we look at them from a different perspective!

With four full development cycles left before I want to have the Miracle Route to my beta testers, that requires me to write... 12.5 segments each cycle from here on out. Given that I wrote 12 in this cycle, I'm actually on track to do that! Isn't that nice! By exceeding my goals this past cycle, I was able to shrink the goal I need to hit on future cycles... Funny thing, that.

Until next time!

#indie games #indie gamedev #visual novel #visual novel gamedev #vndev #gamedev #Entropic Float #Entropic Float This World Will Decay And Disappear #nicohverse #official content

[amidstsaltandsmoke]

Smutty one liners- 5

Here ya go, anon! Thanks for the prompt! Set in the universe of my nerdy OLWY babies. Hope that you like it! 5. “I think you lost your underwear somewhere.”

Dany woke to the shrill sound of her phone's email alert, promptly and groggily reaching over and blindly muting it before it had the chance to throttle Jon from his rest.

For a solid few minutes, her sleep-addled mind couldn't determine the reason she would be receiving said notifications on a Sunday, unless it was…

Shit!

She bolted upright in bed, Ghost suddenly jolting with her where he warmed their feet at the end of the bed, half of his face smushed from where it had lain. She gave him a quick scrub under his chin and he resumed his position while, with squinted eyes, she tried to find the suspect labeled URGENT, and thankfully it was sitting right on top of her inbox.

The only time she ever had alerts turned on on weekends was for projects that could potentially be terminated without rapid response, or important work matters that required immediate attention else they lose a deal to a competitor.

As it happened, her eyes hastily scanning the email's contents, this particular affair was both, and there was a video call happening at five a.m. - in four bloody minutes!

As frantically as she could without getting Ghost worked up or disrupting Jon beside her, she scrambled out from beneath the sheets only to be cruelly reminded by the chilly morning air that she had not a scrap of clothing on.

Fuck, she mouthed, positive that her hair was a rats nest at best and there was no clothing in sight; last night they'd been particularly ravenous with each other, and if memory served her correctly, articles of clothing were scattered all throughout the house.

There was no time for a scavenger hunt; given she was at Jon's house, she certainly hadn't thought to bring any business attire, so the only option she could think of off the top of her head was to examine Jon’s wardrobe. And, by some luck, she found a wrinkle-free, plain black button-down on a hanger that was a little on the bigger side, but they wouldn’t be able to tell much. Hopefully.

Everything else...there was no time for. She would have to sit in on the call in only the infamous shirt and nothing else, and hope it didn’t show on her face. In a matter of ninety seconds she managed to brush out her hair, twisted it into a single braid over her shoulder, threw on a quick layer of mascara, and dashed her way down to the kitchen with her laptop. The sight of Jon’s espresso machine had her audibly whining to herself, but there’d be time for that after the meeting.

She switched on the light and propped herself up onto the chair, crossing her ankles, and logged on with seconds to spare. Just before she joined in, she made sure that the camera was well-placed; it was freezing to her warm blood, and the last thing she needed was for her nipples to be on display popping through the thin material. Once all appeared decent, she joined the virtual room where Tyrion, Samwell Tarly, a couple of corporate head honchos, and various other important figures sat.

She felt mortifyingly self-conscious, even if she was the only one aware of her apparel predicament. Still, she carried on as naturally as possible, her voice level and clear and expression not giving anything out of the ordinary away.

Until thirty minutes into some legal jargon, Dany spotted some movement in the next room ahead, peering up over the lid of her laptop to discover Jon approaching: hair fluffed and ruffled, sleepy eyes, lips in a pointed pout while he tried to figure out what was going on, his torse bare and pajama bottoms hanging precariously low on his slim hips. She nearly salivated until she remembered she was on bloody camera. No worries there, since the rest of her body was doing the reacting for her.

She offered as best of a smile as she could without becoming a distraction to the rest of the group, but welcomed his warm kiss once he reached her, just out of camera view. He had gone to give her thigh an affectionate squeeze, and she squeaked, tossing her hand over her mouth and instantly muting herself on the call. Then she remembered she had put her hand over her mouth, lowering it back down, silently thanking herself for not lighting the room too bright so they wouldn’t notice how red her face was...especially since several had curious frowns at their brows.

Briefly, she glanced at Jon, who hadn’t moved, and had a most mischievous glint in his eyes. His hand was still cuffed over her thigh, dangerously close to where she could not deal with right now, else she would probably get fired for some level of indecency.

Dany turned her attention back to the screen, clearing her throat and squaring her shoulders, tuning back into the conversation. It was actually quite exciting - one more step until Mr. Tarly’s series would be brought to the small screen.

“Dany…,” Jon murmured, and she had to really force herself to pretend she didn’t hear the desire in his voice, responding only with a falsely uninterested hum. “I think you lost your underwear somewhere.”

“I- what are you doing?” She wondered aloud, her lips moving very little despite her audio cut for the moment. She could see her own eyes widen in her camera view as Jon ducked down and knelt before her on his knees, and she about choked when she felt his hands gently pry her legs open and apart.

“Jon!” She whispered sharply, muffling herself as she clasped her fist in her other hand and rested her mouth against it - more as a disguise than anything else, even though he hadn’t quite done anything yet.

Her blinks turned rapid as his hands crawled up the tops of her thighs, undoing the bottom buttons of the shirt, her stomach tightening. His warm lips settled on the side of her knee, his hands curled into the crease of her hips, keeping his voice low but loud enough that she could hear him over whomever was speaking through the speakers (she was only half paying attention at this point). “Want me to hold off?”

The professional side of her urged her to say yes, but the more rational side of her was screaming no, to which she found herself letting one hand slide under the counter to tangle in his hair in encouragement. He grunted in agreement and gingerly tugged her a little closer to the edge of the seat; his breath on her already wet center making her jaw tighten.

First, he used his thumb to glide over her cunt, spreading her mess up to her clit, testing her reactiveness - to which she nearly slid out of the chair and straight onto his face.

“How long have you been like this?” He husked, spreading her apart and tracing every crease and crevice.

A forceful pant blew against the hand she kept firmly perched in front of her mouth, hoping beyond hope she still appeared casual, beginning the slippery slope of losing who was saying what now. Something about legal fees, waivers…

Jon chose that moment to plunge two fingers into her core, and she gripped his hair perhaps a bit too severely, but his retaliation was to pull her clit between his lips, and it took every fiber of her mild consciousness to not throw her head back and scream. But a muffled whimper slipped by, and with every pass of his tongue, or his fingers working in tandem with the heat and slide of his mouth, the only thing she could hear anymore was the thrum of blood flooding her ears. And her face looked so tense in the square box of her video capture that she appeared to be on the verge of crying (which wasn’t all that untrue; her eyes were watering in a valiant undertaking to not inform twelve other people what was happening a mere few inches below her screen).

To give her something, she bit down hard on the inner side of her index finger, and then-

“Er, Daenerys, what are your thoughts?” Tyrion queried, automatically forcing Jon to a halt and her hand flying to her mouse to unmute herself.

“I’m...sorry, can you repeat that one more time? My connection is a little...unstable…,” she laughed nervously, but was screaming internally - partly because it was too close of a call, but also because Jon was sucking a line of kisses along the crease of her thigh, his beard lightly chafing her folds.

At least she disguised her dormant moan with a cough.

“Of course,” Tyrion continued, his face turned slightly downward, but overly curious eyes darted up at her. He reiterated the question she inadvertently missed, and Jon went back to his feasting...and she made a bloody face that was so very clearly one of pleasure, the flat of his tongue swiping up the length of her and landing on her clit again.

Her face was so hot that at this point, she had to assume the rest of the 'room' were professionals at utilizing their poker faces, because if she were them, it would be clear as day what was going on over on her screen.

When Tyrion mused that he was pleased with how enthusiastic she looked over the prospect of the subject at hand, she grit her teeth and squeezed her thighs around Jon's head to trap him there. She needed a minute to recollect her wits, and he was far too talented for her to trust she wouldn't orgasm right on camera. And with her luck, someone will have been recording this session for later reference. She would have to move across the country and change her name and never face those people ever again.

Thankfully, Jon showed her a little mercy, reducing his slow sweet torture to caressing her thighs with his hands. To get Tyrion off her back, Dany expressed her plain enthusiasm for the agreement they were establishing, and fluffed her explanation enough that she knew they wouldn't need to call on her again.

The very second she silenced her microphone, she opened her legs again and Jon dove back in, which was probably a mistake since she'd already been driven close to the brink and he wasn't giving her a moment to graduate into it. Her hand slapped over her mouth, her brow twisting just in time to slam the lid to her laptop down at the conclusion of the call.

Finally, her fingers gripped the edges of the chair and her face turned toward the ceiling, exhaling several lengthy breaths she'd been storing in her lungs for several minutes. Jon's hands roved up her front, popping open the remaining buttons and filled his palms with her breasts, rolling them between his soft fingers.

Jon paused to lift her quivering legs over his shoulders, allowing her to relax them along his back. She sunk one hand through his hair again, the other grasping onto one of his arms as he dedicated all of himself to her pleasure, drawing sharp gasps and gulps of air out of her between his attention split between her clit and her center.

Pivoting her head back down, a pitiful whine passed through her lips seeing his wild bedhead of curls situated between her thighs, his fingers tweaking her puckered nipples. He was plucking every taut string in her body to breaking point; her toes curled against his the smooth skin of his back, wanting nothing more than to be able to lift her pelvis and grind against his face if she knew she wouldn’t fall straight onto the floor. When he lowered one hand and sunk one finger into her constricting walls, she jerked in her seat with a soundless cry, and then he was pumping two at a time, his pitch black eyes drifting upward to latch onto hers. Reading her reactions to measure the pace and the movements that would push her over the edge.

That look was all it took.

Chest heaving, his name spilled from her lips and somewhere along the way, he weaved a hand in hers, all while he brought her down from her high and collected every last drop from her cunt, leaving her as useless as she was a boneless sack of skin and muscle. She could feel how loose her hair had gotten from its hold. Her head found solace on the back ledge of the seat, eyes having fluttered closed when she felt Jon rise, looping her legs around his waist as he braced his hands on the cushion and kissed her.

Keeping her eyes shut, she smiled against him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and trapping him there.

“Good morning,” he greeted gruffly.

Dany hummed in agreement and sucked on his lip before sliding her still-vibrating toes down the sides of his hips and pushed his pajama bottoms down until his flushed cock sprang free. “‘Morning to you,” she returned, reaching between them to stroke him with a feather-light grip. Jon’s face morphed into one of slightly anguished delight, hips surging to seek more.

“I need you,” he murmured, groaning with the squeeze of her hand.

“You can have me,” she kissed him, “if you can get me out of this chair first.”

His arms wrapped around her and in one swift movement he settled her atop the counter.

#jonerys drabble #i did not proofread sooooo 😬 #smutty one liners

[is-it-art-tho]

Summary: A mission gone awry, too many memories, too much blood, and not enough time. Bruce races to save a son he couldn't save before.

Prologue, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8

___________

Now.

“—can’t…br…brea…” Jason choked, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth.

Bruce’s hands were pressed to the wound in his abdomen as hard as he dared without doing more damage. His gloves and belt had been taken earlier that day, so now, even in the balmy summer rain, Jason’s blood felt uncomfortably warm on his bare skin.

“W-where…?” The younger man’s eyes swiveled wildly, disoriented and searching.

“He’s gone.” After what Bruce had done to the assassin, he didn’t even bother glancing to make sure the man was still unconscious. It was an outrageous mercy that the man would ever wake up at all.

“Could…b’m-more…”

“There aren’t. Stop talking.”

It seemed Jason was about to say something else—his lips parting again—but instead the younger man began to gurgle and choke. Bruce tilted him sideways so that he could cough up the blood before it ran down his throat.

“Oracle?” Bruce demanded, a finger to his ear.

“You two on your way bac—?”

“Nearest hospital.”

“Oh, uh”—the patter of keys— “about forty minutes east of you.”

Damn it. “The Berlin cave. What’s the medical designation?”

“Two.”

Certainly not his most equipped base, but it wasn’t nothing. At the very least, it would be enough to stabilize Jason for transport to an actual trauma center.

“What’s going on?” she asked now, her tone still carefully restrained.

He eyed a car parked a few feet away. “Change of plans. I need you to make sure the path is clear between us and the cave. No stops. And have Dr. Ziegler meet us there.”

“Done. Are you guys alright? Is Hood—”

“Just make sure the roads are clear.” He cut the line and redirected his attention to Jason, who was staring up at him. Red streaks covered one side of his face from where the blood had run out of his mouth.

“I…hate…Germany,” the young man croaked.

Bruce slid his arm under Jason and pulled him up, cringing as Jason cried out and hunched forward in pain.

“Come on," the older man urged. We—”

*******************

Then.

“—have to go. Where is he?” ” Bruce was standing beside the open batmobile, shifting his weight impatiently.

Alfred checked his watch. “I haven’t heard from him since this weekend.”

Bruce exhaled sharply through his nose, torn between concern and annoyance. This would not be the first time Jason had gone rogue without informing the rest of the team. But he had thought—or at least hoped—that they had moved beyond that stage.

With another sigh, he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“You’re leaving without him?” Alfred asked. The question sounded neutral enough, but Bruce knew the older man well enough to catch the edge of disapproval.

“Going to find him,” Bruce corrected. It wouldn’t be easy if Jason didn’t want it to be. But, then again, Bruce had a lot of experience finding people who didn’t want to be found.

The roof of the car had not even closed halfway when the elevator doors slid open and Jason slouched into the cave.

“Sorry, m’late,” he muttered. His voice, already muffled by the helmet, came out sounding more like a sigh or a groan than actual speech.

Bruce watched from the car as the eighteen-year-old trudged toward him, his movements just a little clumsier, a little more sluggish than usual.

“I thought you were planning on riding here,” he asked as Jason got in the passenger side—a move which caused even Alfred to shoot Bruce a surprised glance. Bruce couldn’t remember the last time Jason ridden with him by choice. “Where’s your bike?”

“Tire blew,” Jason grunted, reclining the seat and tilting his head back.

“Everything okay?”

“Peachy,”

There was nothing remotely satisfying with this response, but they were already late, so with a quick press of a button, Bruce spurred the massive engine to life. The platform beneath them rotated to aim them towards the tunnel, and as it did, Jason groaned and sighed.

“What is going on?” Bruce demanded, cutting the car off again.

“Nothing. Geez. Can we just go?”

Silence.

“Oh my God. You’re kidding me,” Jason moaned.

Bruce just stared at him, and Jason matched the older man’s stare with his own until Bruce decided the silence had gone on long enough. The older man raised his voice: “Computer. Biometrics for Hood—comma—Red.”

Jason’s head swiveled toward the dashboard as the monitors there blinked on. “What the—”

“Blood alcohol,” Bruce requested.

“What are you doing?”

One of the screens read Processing… before it answered, “Blood alcohol content for Hood—comma—Red. Zero point zero.”

“Controlled substances?” Bruce asked.

This time Jason’s head swung back towards the older man. Even with the helmet on, his anger and indignance were palpable.

The robotic voice responded, “Negative.”

“You think I’m drunk and high?” Jason demanded.

“I’m just trying to get some answers.”

“And that’s what you start with? Also: when the hell did you put scanners in my helmet? I made this mysel—” He broke off in a coughing fit that left him bent over and groaning.

Bruce studied him for a moment before saying, “You’re sick.”

“That’s what they tell me,” he rasped, pressing the button on the side of his helmet to take it off and let it fall to the floor.

“Jason…"

“I’m fine.”

Bruce took in the sheen along the teen’s face, glinting in the pale blue glow from the dashboard monitors. Damp hair dangled from his bowed head, and each labored breath carried an unnerving rattle from deep in the young man’s chest.

“Computer—”

“Goddam—"

“Hood—comma—Red. Body temp, please.”

“One hundred and two point three,” the computer supplied.

“It’s mild,” the teen countered, leaning back again.

“It’s not. Why didn’t you just tell me? I can handle patrol on my own.”

“Because I’m a grown man and I don’t need everyone making a big deal every time I get the sniffles.”

“This is your body’s way of telling you to go easy. If you’re not careful you’ll make it worse.”

“Whatever. Just drive.”

“You need to be home.”

“Yeah, I’ll take a real long nap right after we get back. Now will you please just drive the freaking car.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? There’s no need for you to run yourself into the—"

“Because I want to, okay?” Jason snapped. Over the younger man’s shoulder, Bruce watched Alfred jump and look towards them. Bruce shook his head just enough, and Alfred nodded back, his posture relaxing.

This wasn’t one of those fights. Not yet anyway.

Jason’s head thumped back into the seat and he stared ahead as he added, “Please.”

And only then did Bruce realize why this exchange felt so familiar. It was the Watchtower all over again. A young, borderline self-destructive boy with something to prove. Even if Bruce held his ground, he already knew without a doubt that Jason would end up out there anyway and would probably stay out extra long just to show that he could, even if doing so landed him in the hospital.

Reluctantly, Bruce started the engine again. The teen glanced at him in surprise.

“We’re keeping it short,” Bruce clarified. “And you’re staying here tonight.”

Jason looked at him, not agreeing but not arguing either, which the older man decided to accept as a win.

“Seatbelt,” he ordered, and the boy obeyed begrudgingly. Then in the blink of an eye, they were soaring down the tunnel, barreling towards the city.

#a little bit louder now #batfam fanfiction #batfam fanfic #batman fic #batman fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd whump #whump #whump fic #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #hurt/comfort #sickfic

[ineffablebooklover]

Oh goodness, I'm terrible at writing prompts, hmm......

Are you familiar with D&D/Pathfinder/tabletop RPG's in general? I'd love to see The Crows rolling up characters and playing a one-shot. I can't decide if I'd rather Kaz or Jesper be the GM. Both sound horribly great. 😆

Otherwise, in a very un-original but beloved AU, I'd love to see HP Drarry and Romione + SoC Kanej, Wesper, and Helnik in some kind of Coffee Shop setting (I owned my own shop for the better part of a decade, so I love those).

And Matthias always being alive, please, if you do either of these. ;)

And I don't care about fic length; whatever you feel inspired to do!

💜

The Crow Cafe Coffee Shop AU~ with the Crows, Ronmione, and Drarry

authors note: I got a bit carried away with the idea, and I added some plot. There’s going to be multiple parts to this (yay!) so I guess keep in tune!

Part 1. Kaz’s Crow Cafe

There is a cafe, down some streets in Downtown Ketterdam’s Stave, run by a boy and his friends. There, you can find stories, romance, and most importantly, a decent cup of coffee.

“Not for my coffee, you podge,” Kaz scoffed, slapping away Jesper’s offer of sugar with a glove-clad hand. “I’m just saying sugar prices are getting higher. We need to compensate for this fact.”

Kaz waited for questions, looking around the table. No one said anything. Kaz looked directly at Jesper, who sighed, taking back the sugar and dumping it in his own coffee.

“And how do you want us to do that?”

It was a chilly Saturday morning in early-September, and Kaz was giving his Saturday morning pre-opening briefing.

“Kaz, people come here for the low coffee prices. We can’t hike the prices really high,” Inej added. Jesper nodded, grabbing another packet of sugar.

Kaz sighed. “I know. I’m working on it. Just thought I’d let you two know.”

“Don't mind if I do,” Jesper cut in, pouring the sugar in his overly-caffeinated drink, “but shouldn’t good old Mr. Haskell be thinking about this instead of us?”

Kaz sipped his coffee, shrugging. “‘Old Mr. Haskell’, as you say Jesper, is old and inert.” Kaz sent a glance Inej’s way. “He won’t be doing much about it.”

Jesper just chugged his coffee, bouncing up and ready to start the day.

“Jesper, was it wise to take in that much sugar and caffeine?” Inej inquired as Jesper bounced around the shop.

“Probably, not,” Jesper grinned, flipping the sign to ‘Open’ as a few early-risers started to form a line in front of the Cafe.

A girl with tied back light brown hair entered the cafe first, a stack of textbooks and notebooks in her arms. She ordered a coffee and a pastry, and started working at a table.

She was followed by a tall, burly, blond male who Kaz was sure he’d seen before. Trailing him was Nina, a girl Kaz knew from previous jobs he had done with her to help keep up the profits. Next to the composed blond dude, Nina looked dead tired.

“Why do we even have to get up this early?” Nina whined.

“I have to do things later today and Sunday, this is a good time to work on the project,” the blond replied.

Nina groaned. “Good for you. I was going to get my beauty sleep.”

“Well you get to have a beautiful coffee instead,” Jesper said cheerfully. “Good morning, Nina! What will it be for you and your…” Jesper looked the blonde up and down. “...this hunk of a man, here?”

Nina smirked tiredly. “Yeah, that’s my hunk of a man to you,” she pointed a lazy finger at Jesper.

The blond huffed. “So impudent and improper. My name is Matthias. I will have a black coffee.”

Jesper typed it into his screen quickly. “And no cream, no sugar, nothing sweet?”

Matthias shook his head.

“Anyways, I’ll have a mocha, like 10 shots of coffee and lots of creamer,” Nina cut in.

Jespers slender fingers flew across the board. “Okay so that’s one coffee as bitter as Kaz’s soul, and a mocha with 4 shots of espresso and half of it basically milk. Is that all for today?”

Nina scanned the pastry rack and ordered two chocolate chip muffins. The two sat down, getting stuff out for a project.

Meanwhile, Inej bounced around in her athletic wear, preparing coffees. She finished one for the girl named Hermione, grabbed the apple strudel she wanted, and headed over.

“Hermione?”

Hermione turned, and greeted Inej with a smile. “Thank you. I’ll take those.”

Inej noticed the bigger table Hermione had chosen, and tilted her head. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, my friends. They’re supposed to be here in about an hour, I’m just catching up on studying before they come. Is that alright with…” Hermione stared into the distance, where Kaz stood ominously staring at Inej.

“Oh he… he’s alright.,” Inej lifted a hand to wave at Kaz, who noticed and looked away. “That’s Kaz for you,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Pardon?” Hermione asked.

Inej just laughed nervously, brushing it off. “Enjoy your breakfast!” Inej went back to making coffee behind the counter watching Jesper chat up customers left and right. Inej was glad for his enthusiasm so early in the morning, she never liked taking Saturday morning shifts at 6AM, especially if they had meetings at 5:45.

“How’s it going Jesper?” Inej asked while preparing another cup. Jesper nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Holy- oh Inej. Oh Inej don’t sneak up on me like that. Besides that, I’m doing fine!”

Inej nodded and disappeared behind towers of cups and spouts of coffee. She prepared Nina’s things and brought it over. The two seemed to be arguing.

“I’m just saying- ooh, food!” Nina gasped, sitting up straight for the first time that morning. Inej smiled, placing the coffee and muffins down on the table. Matthias just watched her, arms crossed.

“Enjoy the food,” Inej smiled, then went back to the counter.

Kaz watched her silently from the side, then, noticing the line, straightened his gloves and walked over to help make coffee. They went through orders silently, Inej doing all of the walking, but they enjoyed each other's company. Inej and Kaz would work on an order or two, Kaz would place his finished ones on a counter for Inej to take. While Inej was gone, Kaz would get started on the next thing, and so on.

Eventually, Kaz went into the back and disappeared for a while, leaving Inej with the coffee work.

By this time, Hermione’s friends had come, and their study group looked like they were having a great time, though only ⅓ of them seemed to actually be doing any studying.

By 8, Inej and Jesper switched spots. Inej found that Jesper still loved people-watching, even behind the counter. Or... was he looking for someone?

Her suspicions were correct when a boy walked in, with ruddy, orange-brown curls. Jesper leaned into her, pointing him out. “I think he’s starting to be a consistent customer. At least on weekends. Have you seen him around school?”

Inej had in fact seen him around school. His name was Wylan and he was in Kaz’s math class, and in her Art and Gym class. During lunch, he was usually just drawing something or doing math homework by himself.

Inej nodded, then went back to a customer, leaving Jesper to speculate by himself.

When the boy with golden-brown curls stepped up, she asked what he wanted.

He looked up at the board for less than a second, then back to Inej. “I’ll have an iced coffee. With the cream.” Inej nodded and punched it into the computer.

“Your name?” She asked.

“Wylan,” Wylan smiled. Inej pretended to punch it in as if she hadn’t already.

“And… if you want, the Crow Cafe is thinking of starting a sort of rewards club for regular members. There’s more info up on the board, but all we need is your number,” Inej added effortlessly.

Wylan looked up at the board and back to Inej. “Uh… sure,” he said tentatively. He gave her his number and she pretended to type it in, instead writing it down on a piece of paper after he left the counter. She then looked up at the board to confirm her suspicions. There was nothing about a rewards club. So he can’t read, and yet he still pretends…

She tucked that information away, smirking as she slid the paper into Jesper’s back pocket.

Everything was going pretty smoothly (besides Nina and Matthias’ constant bickering) until the door opened and in walked the most pretentiously blond man Inej and seen, with an even blonder son.

_end of part 1_ thanks for reading, and for the commission!

next commission: Sleeping Beauty AU :)

#ibl writing commissions #six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #nina zenik #matthias helvar #helnik #jesper fahey #wylan van sunshine #wylan van eck #wesper #coffee shop au #hermione granger #Ron Weasley #draco malfoy #harry potter #ronmione #drarry #writing commissions #kaz brekker runs this coffee shop so no hate here or else

[nemesisadraste]

Daily bug.

From : Nemesis Adraste 

To : @cosmomugen

Setting : Lyoko, sometime during season 4.

Pov : Omniscient.

It was a normal day for the warriors. They woke up, took a shower, had breakfast, and then X.A.N.A. attack! The only less usual thing is that they were missing a warrior cause Ulrich was out on a scholar soccer tournament for the weekend. But it's not like that never happened before. They can handle it.

When Yumi arrives at the factory she finds with no surprise that she was the last. Her house was less close to it then Kadic after all. She always feels bad about having to lie to her parents. This feeling had worsened when they stopped using RTTP systematically because her parents actually remember those lies now. But it was for the best. For theirs and Hiroki's safety. Though considering how often they almost… that she almost… Was it really?

- Hey Yumi! Welcome to the party! Said Odd as soon as the elevators' doors opened at the lab level.

- Good morning! Replied Yumi, her dark train finally stopped. What's in it for us today Jérémie?

- Oh nothing special really. X.A.N.A. activated a tower on the mountain sector and hasn't shown himself on earth yet. If you hurry you might stop him before he actually does something so you three go down there asap!

Yumi, Odd and Aelita went in the elevator down to the scanner room and entered in one, ready for the virtualisation. The virtualisation went perfectly as usual… except for one little tiny detail…

- Odd?... What happened to your outfit? Asked Aelita.

Odd looked down at his outfit to realise that his all new all good lyoko outfit has been replaced by his old one that he never really liked. I mean the cat thing wasn't complete without hears and the old outfit wasn't well adjusted to him. It has elephant pants strapped with knee protection, big gloves instead of literal clawed arms, his shoulders weren't covered and for lyoko's sake it had Kiwi peeing on his chest like seriously?!! 

- Einstein what's going on?!! Why do I have my old outfit back?! Is that a joke of yours? Cause the girls still have their new outfit on!

- I have no idea Odd… It must be a bug. Explained Einstein. You sure have a way to collect them.

- Or maybe X.A.N.A. is messing with you, said Aelita with her gentle laugh that'll make anyone forgive her anything.

- Well either way you have to fix this Einstein! I can't go on with my lyoko life with this old stuff on me.

Would you stop over dramatising for a sec Odd? I will fix this when I'll have the time I promise, but right now we have a tower to deactivate so focus on that ok? 

- Ugh fine. There is no reflective thing on the mountains anyway so I'll try to forget that I'm badly dressed.

- You're too kind, sarcastically replied Yumi. 

- I know, I know… Now let's get over it! The sooner we finish, the sooner Einstein can get my good outfit back!

- If Ulrich was here he'll probably tell you how well placed your priorities are. Remind the princess.

- Well he's not here so it's too bad. 

- I can take a picture and send it to him so he doesn't miss out on this. Offered Aelita. I'm sure he would enjoy it!

- Don't you dare! 

- Oups… too late! Bluffed Aelita.

- Unsend it! I won't hear the end of it if he sees it!

- Don't worry I was just kidding! Assured Aelita. I'm not evil.

- I'm sorry to interrupt you, but there are monsters coming your way. Warned Jérémie.

The rest of the mission went fine. They killed monsters and deactivated the tower without any damage done on earth. Not that they were aware of at least. So no need for RTTP. Too bad. Odd would have loved to see Ulrich's reaction when he would have suddenly gone back in time without warning.

That night, like almost every night, Jérémie didn't sleep. His work didn't end with the missions. He had to find new stuff against X.A.N.A., made sure the upgrades went perfectly with the current codes and system, worked on how to free William from X.A.N.A. and found Hopper, and as if this wasn't enough, now he had a bad outfit day to take care of. To be fair he understood Odd's frustration, but this was just a ridiculous glitch he would have gladly passed on. He still hadn't found the solution when Aelita entered his room.

- Still not sleeping I see. She said caringly.

- You neither. Observed the genius blond.

- I had another nightmare and I knew you would be awake all night over Odd's fashion problem so I thought I'll come to give you a hand. She said while gently crossing her arms around him from behind and kissing him on the check.

- Guess I can use the help. I kinda miss having you on my screen to talk through my insomnia. Admitted Jérémie.

- I miss those conversations too. Admitted Aelita. I also miss not having nightmares, she added. But you know I'm always here for you anyway right? I might not be available 24/7 on your computer screen anymore, but as much as I can I'll come help you and talk to you anytime you need it. And so are you friends. You don't have to do this alone.

- I know. I guess I'm just used to being alone. Just my computer and me you know. I'm the only one on the team except for you that know how those things work. It would be unfair of me to ask for their help for this and you have been through enough already without having to deal with a fashion crime on a computer.

- The same can be said for you, you know? Laugh Aelita. Also, fixing a little glitch is exactly what I need to forget my nightmares and the more the merrier right! Together we'll fix it in no time!

- If you say so. Accepted Jérémie. Ok let's give Odd his new outfit back before the next mission or he'll be worse than X.A.N.A. to deal with.

- Hmm… said Aelita… while we're on it, maybe we could also upgrade it a little no?

- What do you mean? Asked Jérémie.

- I mean… And she whispered her idea in the blond ear who had to contain himself to not burst laughing and wake up the entire floor and gladly accepted her Idea.

The next mission happened 5 days later. This time, everyone made it to the factory and when Odd got virtualized, he looked at his outfit, happy to see it exactly like before the bug. But that's because he couldn't see the back of it… When Odd started walking, turning his back to the others, they all started laughing. 

- What's so funny? Asked the cat-boy.

- It's a shame you can't see your back, sais Ulrich, because you have an amazing portrait of Einstein with a crown saying "fashion king" in it 🤣🤣🤣

- WHAT?!!!! You're serious?!! How dare you?!!

- Don't blame him, it was my idea. Admitted Aelita. Don't worry Jérémie will take it away in a sec I just wanted Ulrich to enjoy this bug story too. 

- Ha ha very funny… everyone had their laugh so you can take it away now Einstein.

- Wait! Scream Ulrich. Before you do this… Aelita, can you send me a picture of it please? I wanna make it my wallpaper. 

- No problem answered Aelita

- NO! Screamed Odd. Einstein take it away now! He ordered while making sure that Aelita couldn't see his back and took a picture.

- I'm trying but I don't remember how too… I was really tired last night you know… give me a minute or two...

- Hurry!

Like I said, it was a normal day for the warriors. There were a lot like them in the past, and there will be a lot more in the future.

End.

Hi Cosmomugen! Here was my gift for you for the Code Swap project. I hope you liked it! Your prompts was Odd in his original lyoko outfit, Yumi and Jérémie X Aelita so I did a mix of the three… Tell me what you think of it and have a nice day!

#code lyoko #code swap

[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

Popcorn ceilings were simultaneously the worst and the best. The crumbs and clusters that fell from above when the upstairs neighbors stomped around or dropped a heavy textbook, shaking the room, were annoying to constantly pick up, especially when they covered the bed. But on mornings like this when you were wide awake at an unfathomable hour, you could stare at the patterns hidden in the ceiling to occupy your mind. You found faces and animals and even the occasional word among the speckles. The game did wonders to occupy your thoughts, letting the time tick by without you constantly checking the hour. However, the nervous churn of your stomach never fully disappeared.

Saturdays were supposed to be fun. A day of relaxation. Even if you were finishing up a project or homework, there was no rush to it. Each step could be taken at a pace that kept you calm and under control. Afterwards, you were free to do whatever your heart felt drawn towards. You could see a movie, take a walk in the park, or even stay cooped up in your dorm to binge the latest TV show. But today would not be one of recreation free from stress. Today, you were meeting up with Minseok. And there was an excitement to that, an anticipation, like you were standing in line to go backstage to meet your favorite band. But there was also a less joyful feeling underneath. Though surely your stomach was empty by now, the nauseated roared on, threatening to overspill. 

“(y/n)?”

Flipping over to your side, you looked over at the other bed in the room. Willa had awoken and sat up, her hair sticking up in all directions like a cartoon. One hand rubbed the sleepiness out of a still closed eye while the other stretched out into the air as far as it would go. A long yawn stopped any other words from escaping so you waited it out. “How long have you been awake?”

You shrugged with your one exposed shoulder. “I don’t know. A while.”

“Yeesh. It’s Saturday. It’s like the holy day of sleeping in.”

You smiled at her exaggeration. “My brain just decided it was done resting.”

“Plans you’re looking forward to, perhaps?”

The question was innocent enough, if a little cheeky. It was Saturday, after all, and you did have the tendency to get so worked up over things that you couldn’t sleep, like a child on Christmas Eve unable to dream in anticipation of the next morning’s surprise. But that didn’t stop the swift panic that made your heart jump. 

“Just a project I really need to get started on,” you lied smoothly as you sat up, turning so your legs now dangled off the edge of the bed. Well, it wasn’t really that much of a lie. But wasn’t it a lie when you omitted part of the truth on purpose? Fingernails digging into the cotton sheets that covered the standard dorm mattress that made your back ache, you contemplated spilling the beans ricocheting in your stomach. You were spared making a decision. 

“Speaking of projects,” Willa yawned. “I’m stuck in another group where I’m sure I’ll be doing most of the work.”

You raised an eyebrow, knowing your friend’s history all too well. “And why do you think you’ll be doing all the work?”

“Because no one seemed interested in what I had to say and trying to get a time to get together was nearly impossible.”

Definite warning signs, but not unusual in a college environment. “Okay. So, make sure you get your work done. Anyone who doesn’t get their part done, take they’re name off of it. No one learns if things come easy and are done for them.”

Willa frowned. “So, you’re saying worry only about myself?”

“Sort of.” You sighed. This was your big issue with group projects. Yes, they were supposed to teach you to work with others (because there wasn’t enough of that in secondary school, apparently) but some professors didn’t care if you tried to get the others to work when they didn’t want or care to and the group suffered for it grade-wise. College in the classroom wasn’t supposed to be about life lessons – it was supposed to be about the material. “Continue to try to get them to cooperate, but if you see after a few times that it’s pointless, drop it. I’m sure someone else in your group will help out, too.”

The pout on Willa’s lips told you that she wasn’t completely on board with your suggestion. “Yeah, okay. I guess I’ll wait it out.”

“Good. In the end, it’s up to you, though.” Jumping out of bed, you headed over to the bathroom you shared with the room next door. After conducting your morning business, you went to the tiny closet and got dressed. “Want to get breakfast?”

“I can’t,” Willa said regretfully. “I’ve got other plans.”

“Okay,” you said, not the least bit hurt. You had offered out of simple politeness. The more time you spent in your friend’s presence, the more tempted you would be to let out the incoherent thoughts that refused to organize themselves in your head. Yanking on a sneaker, you grabbed your keys and bag, waving to Willa as you hurried out the door. 

The student union was nearly deserted. Most who lived on campus were spending this weekend morning logically, which meant the corporate food choices were closed. Thankfully, the university-sponsored coffee shop was open. Already you were being hit with the smells of fresh pastries and dripping espresso. The cashier greeted you with a sleepy smile and waited patiently for you to make a decision. Once that was settled and you’d paid the tab, you walked over to an empty two-person table and sat down. It was only a minute or so later that the barista brought out your coffee and a warm scone. The berries baked within the dough were soft and juicy, leaking onto the surrounding pastry, which in turn soaked up the flavor in an addicting manner. You smiled to yourself with each bite. 

Pulling you out of the bliss, however, was your phone screen lighting up from your peripheral. With a squint, you picked it up and read the message as you chewed. It was from Minseok, once again confirming your ten o’clock meet up time in the library. According to the digital clock located at the top of your screen, you still had about thirty minutes before you needed to head over to the library. You set the phone face down on the table without replying. The thought of seeing him again in a mere few minutes was surging you more awake then the caffeine ever could. But you knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way.

The thing was, nothing was wrong with your relationship with Erik. He was sweet, supportive, caring. He listened and paid attention to you. He was a relationship dream. But it suddenly didn’t feel like enough anymore. Were you simply getting bored? Had you peeked over the fence and seen a greener field? It felt more complicated than that, but you couldn’t put your finger on the cause. Shaking your head, you sat back in the chair and sipped on the cooled off coffee. Maybe you should cancel, make up some excuse that you were sick or that something else had come up. Or maybe you should just tell him the truth that it was a bad idea to spend time with him and his child-like laugh. 

You were absolutely and utterly weak. In a flash, you were picking up your phone and sending a text that you would see him there. You lasted about five more minutes sitting in that shop before you were guzzling down the rest of your breakfast and heading out of the union to the other side of the courtyard where the library sat. It was still early, but it didn’t feel like a bad idea to go ahead and get started – or, at least, look like you’d gotten started. However, you were beaten to the punch. 

Sitting in one of the old donated chairs by the front windows of the library, Minseok flipped slowly through a book, engrossed in its pages. You couldn’t read the title to know what it was about, but the athlete on the front gave you a clue that it might be about soccer. He saw you the second you stepped inside, closing the book and tossing it in his bag. “Hey, you’re early!” The smile spread quickly across his face, letting you know that your arrival well before the allotted time was not discouraged in the slightest. 

A strange, gripping warmth shrouded over you. Like a hug in the middle of a harsh winter, you melted, feeling safe and comforted. An invisible rope made of steel cable was reeling you in closer to Minseok. No saw or knife in the world could sever it, you were sure. Coming here to the library felt like a final choice. Turning back would no longer be an option to you. A dark sea lied before you, but on the horizon, a possible promise of Treasure Island.

“Are you ready?” 

You blinked, having gotten lost in your own metaphor. “Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Ready to learn about math. Yay.” There was absolutely no enthusiasm in your sarcastic cheer, but it made Minseok laugh. The two of you found a round table near the back of the second floor where the reference books were housed. 

“So,” he beamed at you as soon as you were all unpacked, “to finish my thought from last time….”

“Yes! You had an idea!”

“Unless you were able to come up with something you wanted to do?” he offered. You snorted as your reply. He laughed. “I had a feeling.”

“So, then what’s your idea?” you challenged. 

“Marketing.”

You frowned, confused. “Marketing?” You didn’t see the connection. 

“Yeah.” Looking around, Minseok motioned with his head. “Come on.” You followed him away from the table, through several aisles of books until you came to a small corner where worn and peeling covers gave clues to the context between the pages. The titles you could read talked about marketing statistics and “eye-catching strategies”. Pulling a book off the shelf, he held it out for you to see. 

In the Masses Eye.

“What’s this?”

“It’s called old fashioned research.”

You rolled your eyes. “I understand that part. I meant marketing... and this book in particular.”

“I think marketing might be your best angle to go with on this project,” he explained. “There’s a correlation between what people see and what makes them buy a product. A bad picture that isn’t well thought out can deter sales. According to statistics, at least.”

The hinges in your jaw came loose, leaving the bottom half of your mouth hanging open. “How did you come up with that?”

A pink hue flushed on his cheeks. He even seemed to shrink in on himself as his shoulders rose and he leaned up against the shelf. “I like things like this.”

You erupted in giggles, covering your mouth and hiding your face with the book. What was he doing to you? Collecting yourself and searching for a distraction, you pulled a few more books out of their spots and flipped through them without purpose. But soon your eyes caught on to what Minseok was originally saying. Certain pictures stuck out to you, making you stop and take a second look. It was exactly the effect you tried to achieve with your own shots. You smiled, delighted. 

“See what I’m talking about?” Minseok said quietly. He didn’t say it with a cocky tone or snark, just simply inquiring. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah, I do. In fact-” A blaring song rang out from your pocket. “Shoot!” You struggled to pull your phone out, having forgotten to put the ringer on silent. It was Erik calling you. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe!” Erik greeted cheerfully. “I know I said I was going to be busy all day, but we’re taking a break so I thought you might want to grab an early lunch.”

“Oh, um.” You looked up at Minseok. He waited patiently during your conversation, lips sucked in and his gaze set on you. But there was also a tension in his stance that you couldn’t understand. It was only now hitting you that you never had that conversation with Erik. You never told him that you were even doing this extra credit, never mind who was helping you. Right now did not seem like a good time to go into those details. “I… can’t. I’m kind of already knee-deep in this project and if I stop now then I’ll lose traction. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I understand. Maybe we can grab something tomorrow?”

“Um, sure. I’ll let you know.” You hung up without saying goodbye, needing desperately to end the awkward exchange. Quickly turning the ringer to silent, you clumsily shoved the device back in your pocket. An odd tension hung in the air between you and Minseok, neither sure of how to continue the earlier conversation. 

“So, was that your boyfriend?” Minseok finally asked in a quiet tone. He made “boyfriend” sound like a curse word. 

“Erik,” you confirmed with a nod. “He’s an artist. Right now he’s working on the sets for the theatre department.” You weren’t sure why that information needed to be shared, but it was out before you could think. 

Minseok bobbed his head, but you had a feeling he was only half-listening. “You guys been together long?”

“A few years.”

“Ah.”

Something along the lines of defeat seemed to glaze over his eyes as they shifted to the floor. You didn’t like seeing him in this state. A pain manifested itself in your chest. You certainly preferred the happier, more enthusiastic Minseok who bounced on his feet in constant excitement and tilted his head to amplify his attention. That constant feeling of guilt had done a one-eighty on you. Now instead of feeling it towards Erik, you felt it for the person in front of you. On their own, your fingers reached out. They hovered in the empty space, unsure of the right move. You longed to caress his face in comfort. But that would be inappropriate; crossing a line that should have been a mile wide. Yet stepping over it seemed as easy as stepping over a shallow creek.

You willed the power to pull back and let your hand drop to your side. Minseok, however, still managed to take some contact, brushing his fingers against the back of your hand as he took the books from you. An electric shiver ran up your spine. When his skin was gone, you almost whimpered. You questioned how well your fingers would fit in the spaces between his own. And if that electricity would go on forever at the prolonged contact. 

“We should get back to the project.”

“Right.” You cleared your throat. Hiding in this back corner was giving your brain ideas and following down paths that were clearly unmarked, dangerous even. 

Back at the table, the two of you worked on the project, bouncing around ideas of how to use the statistics of marketing that the resources gave and applying it to your own photography. A few hours later, you had the full back bone of your project completed. All you needed was to break down the expressions and equations that would back your claims. But your brain was done for the day. However, that didn’t mean you were done with Minseok. 

“You know, I just realized I don’t know much about you,” you said as you packed away your things. 

Minseok shrugged as he gathered up the books to put back in their homes. “I’m not sure if there’s much to know.”

“Everyone has something worth knowing.”

“Touche.” The smile was coming back. Good. Perhaps it was selfish, but you were feeling lighter due to his own lifting mood. “But I don’t know where to start. I mean… I’m a math major-”

“That I already knew,” you laughed.

“Right. Um….”

“Do you live on campus?” you offered as a starting point. 

He shook his head. “No. I live out of town, a ways out. My friends and I live in a farmhouse in the woods.”

“A farmhouse in the woods!” you exclaimed. That sounded like a dream. Or the setting of a YA novel. “How many of you live there?”

“Including me? Twe- Nine.”

You were confused as to why he suddenly changed numbers, but the sad look that was here and gone in his eyes made you think it was best not to ask. “Nine? Wow. Isn’t that crowded?”

“Sometimes. But really, it's more comforting than anything. We’re like brothers so it doesn’t feel as overwhelming as it sounds. Although, sometimes I do really need the quiet.” The Minseok from before the phone call was nearly completely back. The weight was dropping from your shoulders as you saw the tension leave his. 

“Where do you go then? When you need quiet?”

He smirked. “I go for a run. In the woods.”

The wolf from the clearing flashed in your mind, as well as the campers who were attacked. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Minseok shook his head. “Not for me. I know those trees pretty well.”

You scoffed. Boys and their confidence. 

Standing up and throwing your bag over your shoulder, Minseok walked you out of the library, telling you more about his roommates, mostly about Jongdae, his hot headed best friend. In turn, you told funny stories about you and the shenanigans Willa dragged you into. So lost in the conversation, you stayed standing in the middle of the courtyard. You should have said goodbye, but you kept putting it off, bringing up new subjects to keep talking.

“Minseok!”

The two of you turned to see a small group of students coming your way, one waving their arm in the air with extreme enthusiasm. Minseok cringed as they came up, scratching the space behind his ear. He gave off the air that being caught like this was the last thing he wanted, even if the scene was innocent enough. 

“You didn’t tell us that you were going to be here today,” the tallest boy said. He had a jolly, lopsided smile and ears that stuck out. 

Minseok shrugged. “I forgot.” His eyes flickered over to you. “Oh, um, guys, this is... (y/n). (y/n), this Chanyeol, Baekhyun, Sehun, and Jongin. They’re some of the friends I live with.”

“Oh!” You lit up at being able to meet a few of the roommates. “Hi! It’s nice to meet you!”

“You, too!” the one who Minseok pointed out as Baekhyun said. He eyed Minseok suspiciously, a sly grin on his face. “We were going to get some lunch. Do you guys want to join us?”

You opened your mouth to accept the invitation, but Minseok beat you. 

“Actually, we were just saying bye.”

You looked at him, confused. Sure, technically you were done working on the project, but you were enjoying this down time after the fact. He hadn’t seem like he wanted to part either. At least, before his friends showed up. 

Jongin seemed to catch on to the contorted expression on your face. “Are you alright?”

It took you a second to absorb his question, but when you did, you slapped on a fake smile. “Yeah, of course. I’ve got to meet up with my boyfriend, but thank you for the invite.”

“Maybe another time.”

“Yeah, maybe. It was nice to meet you, though.” You gave a slightly less enthusiastic expression to Minseok. “Thanks again for your help. I’ll see you later.”

He gave you a small wave. “I’ll see you later.”

You walked away, shoulders drooping. The switch that happened before your eyes made your head hurt, like whiplash. Was Minseok… embarrassed to be seen with you? You didn’t think there was anything particularly shameful about you. But what else would make him not want you around for lunch with the very people he was talking about mere minutes before with joy and laughter? It didn’t make any sense. All you could focus on was the shut down. As you headed for the theatre, you tried to tell yourself that there was no reason to be upset. He was not your close friend. He was merely a… tutor, for lack of a better word. And that’s all he would be, apparently. 

You approached the theatre doors, unsure of where else to go. If you thought your feelings were stirred up this morning, now they felt like they were stumbling off the world’s most twisted roller coaster, unable to even stand on their own. Just how bruised would you be when you finally fell down?

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #minseok x reader #kim minseok #xiumin #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #exo supernatural au #exo series #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #The Untamed Universe #Catching Rain

[welcometophu]

The Meaning of Home, Chapter 2

The Meaning of Home Chapter 2

Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.

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Pawel spends much of Monday lounging around the house. He gets up to help get Conor and Emma on the bus, so his dad can leave on time for work. After meeting the bus in his pajamas, he walks back to Dad’s house and lies down on the couch. He doesn’t really need a blanket, but he pulls it up to his nose anyway for the comfort factor and spends the day dozing and streaming old movies on his dad’s TV.

He never makes it as far as thinking about cooking anything for dinner, so he treats Dad and Conor to a night out. It eats up more time than he’d like, and it means Conor needs to scramble to finish the last of his homework once they’re home, but it’s nice to spend an hour letting someone else do the cooking.

Later that evening, after Conor goes to bed, Pawel and Dad spend the next couple of hours finally talking through everything that’s happened. Pawel doesn’t want to leave things out, but there are a few things he avoids for Dad’s safety, like the government involvement, and one thing he just doesn’t know how to explain.

He hasn’t seen Chelsea in a while. She’s relearning how to work within the world without draining souls to stay alive. He highly doubts she’s planning on stopping by his father’s for a visit, and even if she did, Dad never got to meet her as anything other than one of Pawel’s friends a decade ago.

Yeah. That is a complicated mess that he has no desire to go into detail about.

They go to bed late, but Pawel still wakes early on Tuesday to get his own kid on the bus. He figures it’s the least he can do, letting Dad get to work on time on a regular basis again.

Alone in the house again, Pawel feels refreshed and awake.

And bored.

He puts the phone on speaker as he putters around the kitchen, pressing to dial the number for Pels. She picks up after two rings, her voice gravelly and low. “What? Did we burn your house down?”

“I’m assuming you would have called me, rather than the other way around, if you burned my house down. Since you’re the one staying there.” Pawel rifles through his father’s cabinets until he finds a slow cooker. It’s dusty, but he’s pretty sure it’ll be functional. There should be enough ingredients for chili around. 

He looks into a cabinet, and nearly bare shelves stare back at him.

Okay, maybe not.

“What?” Pels asks again. “You woke me up. Are you looking for my mom? I thought you had her number.”

Pawel finds tomatoes and beans, and starts emptying them into the slow cooker. “I do. I thought she’d be at work, so I called you instead.”

“It’s too early and—Dad, Dad, no, I’ll talk to him. Give me back my phone.”

“Hello, Ammon.” Pawel might not be able to hear Pels’s father, but he’s well aware by now that the ghost can hear him.

“He’s leaving, and I’m not putting this on speaker,” Pels mutters. “I thought he was going to start spending more time with Mom now, after the whole unbinding ceremony last weekend, but apparently she told him not to follow her to work.”

“Can she see him now?” That would be an interesting development. Pawel sets the empty can on the counter and reaches for a pad of sticky notes so he can scribble a reminder to himself to look into more detailed information about the ritual that the Burlington community performed for Pels and her mother in order to remove the bindings from their Talents.

“I think so. I mean, I’m pretty sure she can, but we’re not really talking about it. But seriously. Did you call for a reason? Cheyenne’s got these final projects to finish up since she left school a couple weeks early, so she’s not bothering me. Dad wasn’t bothering me. I was sleeping.” Pels grumbles under her breath.

“I just wanted to see how things were going.” Pawel peels off the sticky note and tapes it to the fridge, where he might see it later. Another search of the cabinets turns up chili powder and a few other seasonings. “Now that you’ve had a chance to settle into the house.”

“We’re fine. We’re figuring out how to be a family again without Peter.” Pels hesitates. “I’m learning how to see the world a whole different way now that I can see everything my Talent lets me see. Shane and Jess and I are talking a lot, and I’m going to figure this Mage thing out. So… thanks. For everything. Including letting us stay in your house while you’re gone.”

Pawel shakes some cocoa powder into the slow cooker, before adding a handful of dried onion. “Someone’s got to water the plants.”

“The plants were already dead when we got here.”

He laughs at Pels’s dry words. She’s not wrong. Pawel was gone for a month; everything went to hell, while his son went to stay with his dad.

Which, yeah. That brings him right back around to where he is now.

Pawel stares at the slow cooker. “If you need anything, you’ve got my number.”

“I’ll tell Mom to check in with you periodically. Oh and—” Pels hesitates before asking, “Cheyenne wants to know if it’s okay if she uses your backyard to practice flying?”

Pawel thinks of the time they used Alaric’s dragon to summon a Shadow in that same backyard. “That would not be the strangest thing the neighbors could have witnessed. But she should try not to break anything, including herself.”

“I think we can do that. Gotta go. Dad says there’s someone at the door.”

The line goes abruptly silent, and Pawel looks down at the screen of his phone as the connection is lost. “Okay, then.” He gives the vegetarian chili a quick stir, then puts the lid on, plugs it in, and switches the appliance on to cook on low. “That’s set, at least.”

He feels a little better, knowing that his home is in good hands, or at least, it’s not burning down. It sat empty for a month before; having someone live there for the summer should be better.

As long as none of the newly powered Mages set the place on fire.

Fire.

That reminds him.

Pawel checks one more time to ensure that the slow cooker is on and set to low, then heads back to the living room to dig out his laptop. He starts it up and finds the tab he’d left open for the outdoor music festivals, with a list of dates.

That’s what he thought: the festival that Rory and Thorne’s band, Phoenix Rising, is touring with will be in Buffalo this weekend.

Pawel buys four tickets. He figures Dad will come with them, and Conor will want to bring a friend. Probably Alan. And if Dad doesn’t want to go, Alan’s mom, Emily, might join them instead. He’s not worried if the tickets don’t all get used; he just wants options.

Conor will be pleased by the surprise, anyway.

He closes the laptop and looks back to the kitchen.

How the hell does his dad live like that, anyway? And what has Conor been eating?

No, he saw the answer to that this morning. Toaster pastries and cereal, and Pawel’s pretty sure that the last of the eggs were finished off as well.

Fine.

If Pawel’s going to be here all summer, squeezed into his dad’s small space, the least he can do is lay in supplies.

Pawel spends the day scouring the cabinets, making a long list of everything from prepared garlic and ginger for easy seasoning, to pantry staples like pasta, to critical items like various forms of protein for the freezer. His dad has a standing freezer in the garage, and even that seems woefully empty.

He loses time going through the sites online for each local grocery store, poring over the ads to determine which store will have the best value for this shopping trip. He types up the list to rearrange it by food type, so that as soon as Conor’s home they can head out and maybe they’ll be organized enough to get the trip done quickly.

“Dad!” The door bangs open. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving and something smells really good.”

“It’s not dinner time.” Pawel folds up the printout of the list and shoves it in his pocket. “We’re going shopping. Grab a snack.” His own stomach growls and he’s not sure how he made it from early morning to half past three without a meal. “I think I saw a box of granola bars.”

Conor lifts the lid to the slow cooker, inhaling deeply, while Pawel finds the last two granola bars. He tosses one to his son.

“Let’s get some food.”

“Can we get meat for the chili? That looked like it was all beans,” Conor grumbles. He buckles his belt, then directs Pawel to the grocery store. 

Pawel already knows how to get there, but he’s not going to tell Conor that. Not when Conor seems comfortable in this place and is enjoying showing off that comfort level. He stays silent while Conor points out the entrance to the parking lot, then finds them a space close to the door.

Conor grabs a cart from the corral and pushes it into the store. “Emma’s Papa picks her up after school, so she doesn’t have to take the bus. She said they’re doing stuff today, so she couldn’t come over. I thought we could work on our—Emma!!” 

Pawel catches the cart, stopping it from rolling when Conor takes off into the produce section. Emma’s answering shout is sharp and loud as Conor skids to a stop near a display laden with peaches. Pawel pushes the cart there, half an ear listening to the kids talking as if they weren’t together a half hour ago in school.

“Dad!” Conor waves at him, so Pawel picks up the pace.

He’s not sure who Emma is with. She stands next to an almost empty cart, except for a bag of peaches sitting in the seat. There doesn’t seem to be any sign of an adult.

“Emma’s shopping.”

Emma rolls her eyes, pushing braids back over her shoulder. “Obviously,” she says quietly. “Jennie had to pee. He’ll be back soon. She forgot to go before we left school.”

“Does your Papa have two carts? We can help you,” Conor offers. “You and me can do one cart, and Dad can do ours, and your Papa can do the other one.”

“You can call me Leo. I don’t think your dad would like it if you started calling me Papa like the rest of the kids.”

Pawel knows that voice.

He hasn’t heard the voice in a very long time, but there are certain phrases still etched in the deep recesses of his memory. 

He exhales, and very deliberately makes himself look at the man who has joined him.

He looks good. Older, yeah. It’s been more than ten years since Leo graduated and left town for college. Apparently he’s back now, and from the police uniform, this would be Emma’s foster father that works for Pawel’s dad.  He has the name ‘L. Papa’ embroidered on his uniform, just above the pocket, and his badge is still visible. Leo stands with one hand on the handle of the cart and reaches without looking to take a package of donuts out of the hands of the small girl sitting in the basket of the cart.

When he smiles, Pawel’s heart twists.

“I was glad to hear you reappeared,” Leo says quietly. His voice is a warm, low tenor, as careful and even as Pawel remembers.

“You’re fostering a Weather Witch.” It’s maybe not the best reply. Pawel refuses to wince when Conor snickers.

“I told you he’s single-minded sometimes,” Conor whispers loudly to Emma. “He’ll help find your parents. I know your Papa’s a police officer, but Dad’s a Mage.”

Emma’s brown eyes are furrowed and dark. Her lips purse, but she doesn’t say anything.

Leo takes two sheets of paper from his pocket, then hands one to Emma. “You know which cereals the boys like best. Pick one for yourself and Jennie that they won’t eat before you get a chance. Since you’re the one with me, you get to pick the pasta. I know it says twenty boxes of mac & cheese, but we only need ten. We’ll be shopping again next week.”

Emma takes the list and reads it over solemnly. “Nevaeh said we need more tuna, but it’s not on the list. I’ll get that, too. C’mon, Conor. There were some cookies on sale. Help me pick out ones that the boys won’t eat before we can.”

“Popcorn,” Conor replies. “Remember, we used the last of it last weekend? Did that get on your list?”

They roll away with the almost-empty cart before Pawel can protest.

The small girl in Leo’s cart has the box of donuts in her hands again. She opens the plastic carefully and takes one out.

“Jennie,” Leo says softly.

“I need sugar to sparkle,” she whispers around a mouthful of chocolate cream.

Speechless feels so strange. Pawel can’t remember the last time his tongue has been this tangled. “I—” He tries to break his own silence, and fails miserably.

“Things get chaotic with five kids in the house,” Leo says. When he smiles again, his pale green eyes crinkle around the corners with tiny lines that definitely weren’t there before. They match the faint hints of salt in his dark hair. “Conor’s got a lot of energy. He probably keeps you on your toes.”

“Dad says I’ve been cursed with a kid that’s just like I was,” Pawel says. He pushes his hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to recover his balance. “He didn’t tell me you were one of Emma’s foster fathers. Just that she had two of them. Foster fathers. And two missing parents.”

Meeting his ex-boyfriend shouldn’t be this unsettling.

Pawel blames it on the fact that he’s probably still in a sleep deficit—two weeks is not enough time to catch up on missing sleep for several months.

“There’s a local teacher who works with a group that finds placements for Talented kids who need Talented families to stay with.” Leo has the second page of his list in his hand, and he refers to it while picking out produce.

Right. Shopping.

Pawel looks at his own list and tries to focus on that to give himself a little distance and wrangle his brain back into working order. Salad. They definitely need things for salad. And fresh vegetables for roasting wouldn’t be bad.

“Alice asked Colt if he knew anyone who might be able to take on kids about four years ago, and when he said we would, she put us in touch with Lucy and Rowan, and that’s how we got Matt, our first foster kid.”

Leo’s voice rolls over Pawel, dropping tidbits of information that he struggles to grab onto.

“Matt’s not bad,” Jennie says around a mouthful of donut. “Sometimes.”

Pawel latches onto the names, his fingers closing around a broccoli crown and holding it a little too tightly. He fumbles with the plastic bag. “Lucy and Rowan? And… Colt?” He had to have heard those wrong.

He manages to get the bag open and shoves two broccoli crowns into it, dropping them in the basket of his cart.

Leo is silent.

When Pawel looks at him, Leo stands with his fingers wrapped around the handle of the cart, his grip tight. “Colt Harrison,” he says. “My husband. You—”

“Dated him in high school, yeah.” Pawel finishes Leo’s sentence for him.

That’s… too much information. Pawel is struggling to assimilate it.

“Dad did not mention that,” he mutters.

“This doesn’t have to be weird.” Leo grabs the container of donuts and moves it to another area of the cart. Jennie could still get to it, but she pouts instead, slouching down in one corner of the basket, her lower lip sticking out and flecked with chocolate. “Colt and I met when he was interning at the law office where he works now. We’ve been married about three years. We didn’t even know each other back in high school.”

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” Pawel echoes. He’s right, of course. It shouldn’t be weird. It’s not weird at all. People meet. They fall in love. They get married. They have kids. Sometimes there’s a small world effect and it turns out that they may have already been connected beforehand.

That’s all Pawel is in this; an ancient history connection.

“Your dad talks about you all the time,” Leo says. He pulls a napkin from his pocket and cleans Jennie’s fingers. “Try not to touch anything else,” he admonishes gently before tucking the dirty napkin back in his pocket. 

He’s so careful with her. Pawel remembers when Leo used to take care of his younger siblings. It only makes sense that he’d be good with kids now. As big and scruffy and rough looking as he is, he’s gentle, too.

“I need to—” Pawel holds up the list, showing just how long it is. “Dad’s cupboards are empty. I’m not sure what he and Conor have been eating, and I get the feeling that it’s takeout so I really don’t want to know. I need to stock up.”

“So do we. Matt’s eleven and Clan, and Duke’s fourteen. We go through a lot of food in our house.” Leo heads toward the back of the store. “Come on. We’ll catch up with the kids if we get moving.”

Pawel exhales and trails behind Leo. Jennie peeks around him, her thumb in her mouth as she looks at Pawel. Small brown brows furrow deeply before she turns away and curls up.

Her snores are adorable little rasps of sound. He can’t think how she’s sleeping through the rattle and squeak of the cart she rides in. Still, she’s silent as they work their way through the aisles, collecting items from their respective lists.

They turn down one aisle and spot Conor and Emma from a distance. Conor has sparks around his hand while Emma reaches for something falling from the shelves.

Pawel coughs, and Conor turns to give him an innocent look.

Wait. That reminds him.

“You’re taking in Talented kids,” Pawel says slowly. “So you or Colt must be—”

“We both are,” Leo says, glancing at him sideways. “I grew up Clan. Colt’s Emergent, but that’s his story to tell. I heard about you being a Mage from your dad. He’s proud of everything you’ve done at PHU.”

Pawel waves that away. “Youngest dean. Newest department. Only real expert on Talent as a whole because I’m the only person who’s bothered to go down the rabbit hole far enough to study it formally.”

“It’s still impressive.” Leo huffs.

“I just… I never knew.” Pawel thinks back and tries to catalog Leo’s family based on what he knows of Clan. He didn’t interview them for his thesis; they weren’t on his radar as a large Clan community. They grew up as a part of the town.

“You weren’t meant to.” Leo dips into his pocket and hands the napkin back to Jennie, who has somehow woken from her nap and polished off a second donut while they weren’t paying attention. “That was before the Emergence. We took a lot of care to be able to live here without anyone knowing.”

“But your community—”

“Widespread and buried within this town and the surrounding ones. We never really wanted to withdraw from the rest of the world. Which is what makes us good candidates for fostering. We don’t have those same prejudices that some might have.” Leo drops a hand to the top of Jennie’s head, and she looks up at him, smiling brightly.

There are, indeed, sparkles all around her, the air shimmering with her contentment and happiness.

“Conor wants me to help find Emma’s parents,” Pawel says quietly. “At the same time, I’m not sure if he really wants me to get involved, after everything that happened this last year. What do you—”

“I think they’re dead,” Leo says quietly. His hand still rests atop Jennie’s head, but his gaze is fixed on Emma. “I can tell you what little we know, but everything points to them being dead. The question is what happened to their bodies.”

Unfortunately, Pawel’s had experience with issues like that and can think of at least one scenario.

Which might mean they’re not dead.

They also might not be prepared to be parents anymore, either.

Leo pitches his voice louder. “You should come over for dinner some night.”

Both Conor and Emma turn to look at them. Emma grips the side of the cart, stepping up and holding on while Conor gives it a good push before jumping up himself. It sends them racing towards Leo and Pawel, until Pawel puts up a hand, throwing out a gentle cushion of magic to stop them before they crash.

“Yes!” Conor yells. “Dinner!”

“You could come over and meet everyone. If you want to.” Emma’s gaze drifts away, like she really doesn’t care about the answer.

“They’re like my second family. Third, maybe, because of Alan, but my second one here,” Conor insists. “And Emma’s dads are really nice.”

“They aren’t my dads.”

“I’m sure Colt would love to see you, too,” Leo adds.

Thanks for the gut punch.

“He says yes,” Conor says quickly. “Right dad? You say yes.”

What else is he supposed to do?

“Yes.” Pawel fishes out his phone, unlocking it and staring down. He doesn’t resist when Leo slips it from his fingers, opening up his text app and sending something.

Leo places the phone back in Pawel’s hands. “The first number is mine, the second is Colt’s. In case you don’t still have them.”

“I fried my phone and lost everything,” Pawel admits. “Back when I Emerged. So. Thank you.”

“It’s good to see you.” Leo’s touch is heavy and warm where he claps his hand against Pawel’s shoulder, then squeezes. 

Pawel could hug him, but he thinks that might be awkward. He’s never had this situation. He has three exes—two of them he hasn’t seen since they broke up, and the other one is Chelsea. Which is just complicated.

“Yeah, you too.” He watches as Leo walks away, Emma pushing the second cart beside him. Pawel wonders just how distracted Leo must feel since Jennie looks like she’s grabbing her third donut.

Or maybe that’s just how it is. Maybe he spoils his kids with plenty of sugar.

It’s not like Pawel knows anything about how Leo’s life is now.

Conor tugs sharply at Pawel’s shirt. “Dad. When are we going to dinner over at Emma’s house?”

Pawel looks down at his phone, at the new conversation sitting there. All it says is, this is Pawel.

He locks his phone and shoves it in his pocket. “I don’t know yet, but not tonight. Let’s go find that meat you wanted for the chili. Chicken might be good. We could sauté it up quickly and add it so it’ll get a couple hours in the slow cooker with the rest. Or we could cook it up with spices and add it afterwards.”

“You’re just saying that because chicken is healthy,” Conor grumbles. “I got more toaster pastries. Dziadziu lets me eat them.”

“I let you eat them, too, just possibly not in the same quantities,” Pawel protests. It’s not an argument he’s going to have right now, anyway.

He’s going to focus on finishing up the shopping, and finishing cooking dinner.

He’s going to focus on anything other than the fact that somehow both of the boys he dated in high school grew up to meet each other and end up married.

Yeah, he’s going to do his damnedest to focus on anything but that.

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#welcome to phu #welcometophu #the meaning of home

[in-a-pynch]

Talk to Me

A Pynch Fic

Words: 2919

TW: Abuse (typical Robert Parrish bullshit), Food issues due to anxiety

Ronan paused in the entry way to the dorms at Harvard, struck by what some might call anxiety. Except it’s not. Because Ronan doesn’t get anxious.

What if he doesn’t want me here? What if everything is fine and I’m overreacting?

Ronan clamped down on that idea fast. He knew Adam. And because he knew Adam, he also knew that things have been off, and Adam was trying to pretend that they weren’t. At first, Ronan was going to wait for Adam to come to him, like the adults they were. Ronan didn’t like the idea of him having to beg Adam for information any time something was wrong. But that was before Adam’s roommate, Eliot, texted Ronan. Ronan swiped at his screen to look at the message again.

Yesterday 5:30 PM

Crybaby 1

Hey, I hate to do this but I’ve got to ask, is anything up with you and Adam? He’s been acting strange and distant for like 3 weeks now and every time we mention it he says he’s “fine.” The man is running exclusively on 5 hour energy drinks and granola bars twice a day. We’re getting worried but he won’t talk to us.

That text was what put Ronan over the edge. 

He’d hoped that if Adam wasn’t talking to him, he would at least be getting support from his other friends. He hadn’t seen it until late, but he had immediately sent a response.

Yesterday 10:03 PM

No idea. Be up tomorrow.

Ronan paused, then:

Don’t tell Adam.

So now Ronan was in Cambridge. Standing outside his boyfriend’s building like some sort of coward. He knew Adam missed him. At least, he sure missed Adam. Still, the fear that Adam wouldn’t tell him what has been bothering him or, worse, Ronan is what has been bothering Adam, kept him glued to the sidewalk.

Deep breaths. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Ronan decided to take the stairs. For exercise, obviously. Not because he was nervous. Despite his racing thoughts, Ronan had to admit he was excited to see his boyfriend. Adam hadn’t made it back for spring break this year, and it had been far too long since Ronan had a chance to see his Magician. Stopping in front of Adam’s door, Ronan shrugged his backpack more squarely onto his shoulders, gave his trademarked slouch, rolled his eyes at his own ridiculousness, and then knocked.

The door opened. Adam stared. Ronan blinked. It was Adam that broke the silence.

“Ro? What are you doing here?”

For a second, Ronan had to gather himself, not really believing his eyes.

What the fuck Parrish?

Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam and pressed his cheek to the top of Adam’s head. Rather than give a real reply, a reply which Adam certainly would not have liked, he shrugged into the embrace and simply said,

“I missed you.”

Ronan doesn’t lie, but he also loves his boyfriend enough not to tell the whole truth. Yet. Instead, Ronan squeezed tighter.

Fuck he’s lost weight… Eliot wasn’t kidding about the granola bars.

Adam pulled away enough to look at Ronan’s face, likely trying to read his expression to see if there was more. Whatever he decided, he didn’t elaborate, replying with a tentative smile and a kiss.

“Yeah, well I missed you too, you sap.”

Ronan scowled without any real malice. “Shut up Parrish.”

Adam pulled away fully, but linked their fingers together, using them to tug Ronan into the dorm. Ronan shut the door and followed Adam into the tiny, but still cozy, bedroom. Ronan tossed his backpack on the floor and turned around to Adam pushing himself up onto the slightly elevated twin bed. Ronan stopped and took Adam in for just a moment.

As sexy as his boyfriend was, it was not a good moment.

Despite the smirk on Adam’s face as he watched Ronan get situated, his face showed the marks of what could only be pure exhaustion. Dark circles lined his kind eyes, and his bottom lip was chapped from where Adam nervously chewed on it. Just like he was doing right now, as Ronan so obviously analyzed his appearance. Fuck. Ronan forced himself to smile, he didn’t want to ruin the reunion.

We’ll talk about this tomorrow, Parrish.

“You know, Opal’s going to kill me for coming to see you without her,” Ronan admitted.

Adam laughed.

Damn if I didn’t miss that laugh more than anything.

“Oh yeah?” He replied, “Chainsaw isn’t enough to keep her occupied for the weekend? What ever will she do without you there to brood at her?”

“No you idiot,” Ronan vaulted himself onto the bed, planting himself firmly on the pillows. “The problem isn’t that I’m not there. The problem is that she isn’t here with your smiling face…” Ronan faltered for a second, realizing that if Eliot was being honest, this is probably the first time Adam has smiled in a while. Ronan pulled his leg onto the bed to untie his combat boots. Pulling one off and chucking it at the wall, before repeating the process with the other to procrastinate starting another conversation other than, ‘What is your deal?’. Adam must have sensed his hesitation, quickly saying,

“So, have you completed any of those projects you had set out to do on the farm the last time I was home?”

Ronan glowed at Adam’s description of the Barns as home and, just like that, Ronan and Adam talked as though nothing was wrong. Chattering about the new floors Ronan was putting in one of the stables and the new cow Opal had taken a liking to. Time slipped away as the two boys filled each other in on things too trivial to be worth mentioning in their phone calls. Not that Ronan didn’t notice Adam deflecting questions about himself or how his classes were going or what he had been up to with his friends lately. Ronan absolutely did, and each denial and topic change had his hackles raising because why won’t he just tell me what’s wrong?

Ronan was uncomfortably reminded of the early days of his and Adam’s friendship. When it had been clear that they had more in common than Gansey’s unyielding loyalty, but still didn’t quite trust each other with the things that mattered. The days when Adam would show up with a black eye and reply “Oh this? My hand slipped at the shop and I dropped a tool on my own face while under a car, dumb right?” Or the weeks after that god-awful dream when Ronan didn’t sleep because “fuck off Parrish, if I needed another Gansey I’d let you know.”

Ronan went to pick up pizza so as not to absolutely lose it.

And it worked. Mostly. Well, it worked until Adam sat there on the bed claiming he was full after having only picked at one small piece of pizza. Ronan ignored him, shoving another slice of veggie into Adam’s hand.

“You need to eat. Chainsaw eats more than you.”

Adam sighed, putting the pizza back into the box, not doing anything to help Ronan’s already stellar mood.

“I eat.”

“Fuck off with that bullshit, Parrish. When was the last time you ate a full meal?”

“Ronan,” Adam rolled his eyes playfully, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “You’re overreacting—“

“Am I Adam? You see, I don’t think I am, because it appears this isn’t the only thing you’ve not been upfront with me on recently.”

Adam’s eyes went cold.

“Cool, I was wondering when we were going to get to the actual reason you’re here right now.”

“Can I not just want to see my boyfriend after two fucking months apart?”

“Don’t lie to me, Ronan. You’re bad at it.”

“That’s fucking rich coming from you.” Ronan combated dryly, trying to restrain his frustration.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

Ronan laughed without humor. “It means that for some fucking reason my boyfriend has been falling apart at the seams for weeks and didn’t tell me shit until it got so bad that his roommate texted me to see if he was okay! It means that you don’t look like you’ve been sleeping enough and you definitely haven’t been eating enough but you still start every phone call with ‘I’m doing fine how ‘bout you, Ro?’ It means that for some reason I’m being shut out, and you won’t tell me what I did wrong!”

After airing his frustrations, Ronan deflated. He rubbed his hands over his face, then through his hair to rest on his neck, curling in on himself. He sighed, resigning himself to whatever answer his boyfriend had to give. 

“What did I do wrong, Adam?” His voice cracked.

Ronan looked up at Adam, who looked smaller than Ronan had seen him in a long time. As soon as the question had sunk in, Adam was immediately shaking his head, reaching to hold Ronan’s face between his warm dry palms.

“No, no.. Fuck, Ro, this isn’t your fault at all.”

Ronan put his hands on top of Adam’s, whose thumbs were rubbing small circles on Ronan’s cheeks.

“Then what is going on Adam? If it isn’t me that’s the problem, then why won’t you open up to me? I haven’t felt this distant from you since before you left that fucking trailer—“

Adam froze, a look in his eyes that Ronan hadn’t seen in a while: fear and… is that guilt? Ronan grabbed Adam’s hands tighter as the realization seeped in.

Robert Fucking Parrish.

“When?” Ronan said with steel in his voice, lowering their hands from his face but still gripping them tightly.

Adam avoided his eyes and gritted his teeth. “When what?”

“When did he fucking contact you Adam?”

“Ro you don’t get it. This is my fault.”

“In what universe has anything he’s ever done to you been your fault..”

“I told them they could—“

“Could what?!”

“Could contact me and—“

“And why the fuck did you tell him that?!”

“For god’s sake Ronan would you let me finish?” Adam said harshly.

Ronan closed his mouth, took a deep breath, and then opened it to use a word he’d been practicing.

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

Adam’s face softened, and then returned to the guilty look from earlier.

“When I graduated..” Adam swallowed. “When I graduated I went back to see my mom. I did it while my dad was at work. I had some crazy idea in my head that now that I had graduated and made it into an Ivy League that she would maybe listen to me for the first time in my life…” Adam trailed off, lost in his thoughts.

Ronan squeezed his hands and Adam’s eyes focused again.

“I had gotten it in my head,” he continued, “that my mom wanted to leave just as bad as I did. That she too was tired of my da— Robert’s behavior and would want to leave if she had another option. I asked her to move to Cambridge with me.”

Ronan inhaled sharply. Why didn’t he tell me?

“I figured that we could get an apartment and drop off of Robert Parrish’s map. It wouldn’t have been easy, but god if I didn’t want to do for her what you did for me.” Adam’s eyes went glassy and he squeezed Ronan’s hands tighter. “She said no, of course. Told me that she loves him and everything that happened was my fault, but it was obvious she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince me.” Adam took a big inhale and then exhaled. “I said okay. I know as well as anyone that you can’t leave a situation like that until you’re ready, and even then sometimes it just doesn’t work out like that.” A tear leaked down his cheek, which he wiped clumsily on his shoulder as to not let go of Ronan’s hands.

“I gave her my phone number, just in case she changed her mind. I wanted to let her know that there’s a way out, even if she chooses not to take it.” Adam stopped, trying to calm himself, but Ronan could tell that wasn’t the end of the story.

“She called for the first time about a month ago and told me she was done, that she wanted to leave. I was so relieved. I told her to pack a bag and let me know a time and place, that I would drive down to pick her up. That we would figure something out. I immediately got online and started looking for apartments… I even applied for another job so that I could pay for it. But then I didn’t hear from her for a whole day, and I was getting worried. I didn’t want to call her in case he picked up because then she wouldn’t be safe, so I waited. A day and a half after she called the first time she called again and said she had made a mistake. That I needed to stop planting ideas in her head and that their marital problems were all my fault anyway. I could tell she didn’t mean it, that she was scared, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” The tears were flowing freely down Adam’s face at this point, but he seemed not able to bring himself to care.

“To make things even better, somehow Robert got ahold of my number,”

Ronan felt his shoulders tense.

“And, now, he calls me three or four times a week to remind me of how I ruined him and my mother, how his drunkenness is a result of how difficult I have made their lives, and how my entitlement was really the root of his inability to hold a job. Somehow.” Adam managed a watery chuckle in spite of himself, and then sobered. “I can’t block him because mom might change her mind. I can’t possibly imagine where I would be if you and Gansey gave up on me every time it caused you a bit of trouble.”

Ronan’s heart ached in his chest, knowing Adam was never any trouble to either him or Gansey, but also knowing Adam was not in a place to hear this. Instead, he pulled Adam into his arms, as if cradling him to the source of the hurt would soothe the pain. In some ways it worked. Ronan took a minute to gather his thoughts (also something he had been practicing) before he spoke.

“You have the kindest heart of anyone I know and the patience of a saint, Adam Parrish. You shouldn’t be punished for that kindness.”

Adam shook his head and the tears ran faster down his face as Adam turned around and swung his leg over Ronan’s. Now straddling him, Adam leaned his head on Ronan’s chest, hearing his voice vibrate through his good ear.

“I know you think that there is no other way to deal with this other than continually putting yourself through the very abuse you worked so hard to escape from. I want you to remember that, as much as your mom is a victim, she also had a duty as your mom to protect you and care for you.” Ronan kissed the top of Adam’s head. “She hasn’t held up her end of the bargain for the last 20 years. It’s a lot to ask of yourself to play the part she should have been playing all along when it means you have to face the very same verbal abuse she was complicit in.”

Adam nodded, but Ronan could tell that, while Adam knew logically that his mom’s situation is not his burden to bear, he couldn’t yet make his emotions reflect that reality. Suddenly, Adam sat up, face to face with Ronan.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Ronan,” he said softly. “I was embarrassed I got myself into this, and I knew you wouldn’t have approved of me talking to my mom again. I didn’t want to burden you with a problem that you would have been able to avoid.”

Ronan scoffed gently. “Idiot. I wouldn’t have known if I could avoid that problem or not because I’m not you. As much as I care about your experiences and try to empathize, it would be very unfair of me to make assumption based on my own life. I need you to talk to me. It sucks feeling distant and hopeless.”

Adam sniffed though the slowing tears, but smiled slightly. “Yeah, okay, Ro.”

“And we can handle this however you want. I am here for you regardless.” Ronan pulled his sleeves over his hands and used them to gently wipe off Adam’s face. “I just need you to work towards being okay again. Eating, sleeping… you know the basic bullshit we have to do as humans.” Ronan said with a half-smile.

Adam just looked at Ronan for a minute, giving him time to think, damn I’m lucky, before being pulled into a gentle kiss.

“Now,” Ronan said with a yawn and a smile, “it’s time to catch up on some of that sleep you desperately need.” He ran his thumbs feather-light over Adam’s dark circles before tipping the two of them over in bed.

Ronan tangled their legs as he pulled the covers over them both.

Fuck, I missed this.

“Tamquam,” Adam whispered into Ronan’s neck.

“Alter idem.”

Ronan closed his eyes as Adam snored softly.  

This was my first fic so I’d love to know your thoughts!

AO3 @ in_a_pynch 

#pynch #ronan x adam #ronan lynch #adam parrish #pynch fanfiction #hurt/comfort #abuse #food issues

[brytmoon]

i feel like i'm being really annoying about it to ppl so i'm gonna vent here about struggles i have that might be undiagnosed adhd symptoms since i don't have a very big following except for two close friends (sorry y'all)

1. hygiene, such as brushing my teeth in the morning and showering, is hard. it's been hard my whole life but even now, i'll stare at myself in the mirror or scroll through my phone as i try to convince myself to brush my teeth. (this may or may not be related, but i hate going to the dentist, too.) with showering, it's hard to find the time. i always make sure to shower as often as possible (which is every other day, usually) or i make sure i don't smell if i haven't because i'm scared of having b.o. with both, i have to motivate myself to do it with fancy toothpastes and mouthwash or nice-smelling shower gels and lotions. I'm guessing this is executive dysfunction???

2. I've been incredibly disorganized my whole life. i once thought i had adhd when i was younger because of how disorganized i was. I've always had a super messy backpack and a super messy room (it's really messy rn) but i always know where everything is. i had a ds for at least ten years but lost it a couple months ago in the middle of playing it. where did it go???? i have no idea bruh. and i lose my phone all. the. time.

3. i'm terrible with procrastinating. turning in projects and essays at 11:59 after bullshitting it either all day or mere hours before the due date??? a constant. having failing homework grades and having ntis in every class, no matter how much i enjoy it??? a constant. i once did a whole project i hadn't started on until the morning of the due date. i worked on it while in other classes and at lunch and turned it in 3 minutes before the dropbox closed. anything that's not what i enjoy or zaps the fun out of what i enjoy, i procrastinate with. I've sat in front of the computer screen and almost cried so many times because i couldn't get myself to type up a scholarship essay, which OBVIOUSLY would greatly benefit me as a broke college student, but it doesn't matter bc my brain thinks it's boring so why not push it off?? because i procrastinate, i tend to overwhelm myself so much that i break down at least once when an assignment's due because I've formed a terrible habit of pushing myself to overexertion to get a project done that's meant to be done gradually.

4. bouncing off that last point, I'm terrible with time management and remembering events/due dates/assignments to complete. I've tried using schedule apps and alarms. I've tried to plan out my days. I've tried forming routines and habits to get things done at appropriate times and it doesn't work. that schedule app i downloaded and spent so much time filling out? completely forgotten in a week or two. i swipe away the notifications and pay no attention to them. since everything's virtual now, there have been important college information zoom calls, but i forget about them and miss them. i can't remember events, due dates, or assignments if i don't write them down. since i meet every other day or sometimes once a week for a specific class in college, i can easily forget something mentioned earlier that week that's due the next week over the weekend. i have to remember to write in my agenda in order to remember to do something important, which can be stressful and convoluted 🙃🙃 so my bad time management results in further procrastination and missed opportunities, which makes me feel awful about myself late at night when all i can think about is what i should've done better or differently.

5. chores and hobbies are... interesting. when i do get the energy or motivation to clean or draw, i will hyperfocus on them. if i finally feel like cleaning, I'll skip breakfast and/or lunch and won't take care of myself until I'm done. same happens with drawing. and as stupid or funny as it sounds, i find getting up to go pee so annoying!!!! I'm in the middle of doing something i FINALLY want to do and then i have to get up to go use the bathroom. i don't want to break my concentration bc it's an inconvenience. then with hobbies (y'know, things i want to do and enjoy) i procrastinate!! I've been trying to watch atla since everyone loves it and i like it too, but i put off watching it and other shows like crazy. i play instruments and love to do so, but don't practice very often and spend a couple hours doing so when i do because i remember how fun it is. when i do laundry, I'll remember to put the clothes in the washing machine and start it. but then I'll forget to either put them in the dryer, take them out of the dryer, or fold them. i often have to rewash loads because I'll forget they're in there or I'll have a pile of clothes sitting on my bed for days because i procrastinate with folding them and putting them up.

6. i am the most motivated and have the most energy at night. over the summer, I'd stay up until 4 or 5 am on a regular basis. I'd be the most productive during that time but my sleeping schedule would be so off because of it.

7. so people with adhd crave things that produce dopamine, right? well i snack on candy all the time. and i mean it when i say it's ALL THE TIME. my favorite one is red hots because they're crunchy and spicy. eating candy helps me focus and is probably a form of me seeking more stimulation, but it's bad because of my teeth hygiene issues and me hating to go to the dentist. i also can't do tasks quietly. i have to be listening to music or watching a video while working on something and there are times when i want to do both while working??? so now when i watch something or listen to music without working, i tend to need something to do so i scroll through Instagram while having the show on even though it makes me miss what's happening sometimes.

8. i don't really fidget much i don't think?? but i do weird stuff while listening to someone talk. in school, i often doodled on my worksheets and got in trouble for it. I'd draw eyes in the margins, characters I'm fixated on, squiggly lines, and would color in my o's. or while listening to a family member vent, i dance around or listen while scrolling through Instagram. i also have a baaad habit of picking at my skin (dermatillomania). I'd focus on picking scabs for a really long time when i was alone and bored and have scars on my face and legs from doing it. I've picked at my face since i was a kid and absent mindedly do it every day.

9. i can get quite distracted and have to ask for directions to be repeated because i won't hear them?? like my brain won't process what someone said until they say it again when i'm actually fully paying attention. my mom will ask me to run an errand for her and she'll need to repeat it to me because i'll get distracted while she's explaining or i'll forget what she said after walking away. i get off track in conversations a lot and can't really listen well when there's a lot of other noise going on, like in cafeterias. i'll be talking to one friend and hear another interesting conversation down the table and pause while speaking bc my attention shifted. i also can lose my train of thought quite easily when waiting to speak and forget what i was saying and not be able to remember it for the life of me. so I'll interrupt sometimes so i don't forget

10. when talking to friends, i feel like i talk about myself a lot. i like to use my personal experiences to connect with what they said and be empathetic to them, but i worry this comes off as being conceited. i heard that it might be an adhd thing i do to keep myself engaged in the conversation.

i think that's all of them??? I'm so sorry to anyone who has to scroll through all this jgjrjrj but i guess it's good to make note of this stuff in some way because i articulate my feelings better when typing instead of speaking. and this'll be helpful to reference when chatting with a future therapist which i will hopefully get soon! and if anyone sits through this and has any advice, I'm all ears!!

#adhd things #undiagnosed adhd #adhd culture #adhd inattentive

[kiranxrys]

You have been chosen! Use this ask as a free pass to rant about literally anything, regardless of whether or not someone asked your opinion! In fact, take this as someone asking your opinion! (this Free Rant card does not expire, use whenever you want)

this is a lot of fun, thank you. to be honest i’m just going to take this opportunity to rant about myself so consider this life updates with dylan plus a lot of opinions because i’m full of those. (spoiler alert: topics for this rant ended up including school, downton abbey and general rambling).

honestly until today i was considering this week to be one of those ‘wow this is the worst week of my life’ kind of weeks because it kind of went like, monday: cried in history class, tuesday: alright, wednesday: left school sobbing after exhausting and disastrous english assessment, thursday: woke up to find my computer broken (dented, hinges bent, busted screen) and none of my work done. really by that point i wasn’t even crying i was just like yeah this may as well happen you know. i came home from dropping my computer off at my school tech centre, sat down on the living room floor and proceeded to watch the entire season 5 of downton abbey while i stared miserably at the blank exercise book in front of me. 

downton abbey. that’s something. has anyone else seen this show?? for those who don’t know it’s a kind of british propaganda high-budget fast food period drama about early 20th century landed gentry and how the old order is all well and good and gay people are alright but they do have to suffer a bit to make up for it. or that’s one way of putting it, at least. this article is great, if you’ve got the time to read it. anyway i first watched downton abbey at a very impressionable age and it has stuck with me ever since even though i could rant for ten times longer about all its problems than the things i like about it. because really, it’s a masterclass in tv writing messiness and weird propaganda. and yet i still know every plot point off by heart somehow. 

probably the main reason i’m still attached to downton abbey (aside from it being just a familiar thing to have on the tv and not care too much about) is to do with thomas, whose defining characteristics (at least at the beginning of the show) can mostly be boiled down to evil and gay. i’m inclined to love thomas because no one else does (for sometimes fair reasons, like i said - evil) and because i think he’s by far one of the more complex characters in the show (who also doesn’t just randomly develop backwards once we hit season 6).

anyway, at the moment downton abbey is one of the few salvations in my school-stricken life. i’m sure to a lot of you at uni/college or working probably think i sound a bit mad sobbing over year 12 (senior year?? sixth form?? you sort it out) but really it is horrific. it’s only been going for 5 weeks and it’s horrific. i’ve got a mountain of work to do that i really don’t feel like doing. but i feel like i’ve lost the point here, this was supposed to be about my week from hell and how it suddenly became... not that. 

today was friday and weirdly enough, it has been a really lucky day for me. i got my computer back completely fixed and nothing to pay, i only had to attend two classes in the morning and have since spent my afternoon snacking on strawberries and chocolate-covered digestives. plus i don’t even really have to think about schoolwork, because it’s a long weekend and i’m surrreeee that will be plenty of time to get it all done.

a few notes vis a vis this blog - i am desperate to write fic again, but at the moment i simply haven’t the time and have several other projects i need to finish first besides. i’m going to be absolutely tied down with work and other nonsense for the rest of march but i’ll keep my queue running here as ever, plus maybe the occasional gifset whenever i get the chance.

if you read all of this... i appreciate it? but also what are you doing with your life. but also i love you and i hope you’re well! please take care of yourself. it’ll all work out, i promise :)

#ask #anonymouus

[purplesurveys]

1175

What’s the last vegetable you ate, and when did you eat it?  My dinner had broccoli and bell peppers in it.

What was your last Facebook notification for?  It was Aliyah replying to our comment thread on one of my posts. There wasn’t anything in her comment that was worth replying to anymore, so I just reverted with a Haha react.

What bands have you seen live? Paramore, Coldplay (not super legally), and One Direction.

Tell me an interesting fact about your mother:  She almost became a flight attendant, but she failed the final screening because of her height. I think the idea of her nearly having a completely different career is very interesting.

What do you think is the most important thing to happen to you before the age of 13?  In my case, probably getting my period. I got my first one when I was barely 10.

What were you super against as a young child but aren’t anymore?  Chicken curry. I also hateeeeeeeed Dora the Explorer with a passion, but now I find the show hilarious haha.

What are your plans later today? My work sched this week had been so fucking PACKED, that I want to do nothing but catch up on sleep all weekend. But seeing as I’m a proponent of revenge bedtime procrastination, I also highly doubt I’d let myself fall into a nap (Exhibit A: Me currently taking this survey at 2 AM...) If anything, I’ll probably just continue watching BTS In The Soop and finally start on Season 2 of Bon Voyage.

Are you doing anything exciting this weekend?  Well, it’s the weekend already, so...that ^ I will also have to take Cooper to the vet this Sunday.

Who do you talk to the most? Other than my team at work, Angela. I’ve been extra talkative these days because of our now-mutual excessive love for BTS, that I sometimes feel bad that I keep bombarding her with messages.

What are some things you do regularly that make you feel old?  Talk to my friends who are still in college, especially when they update me about the current happenings in UP that I have absolutely no clue about anymore.

Who is your best guy friend(s)?  I don’t have any best guy friends.

Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?  Neither; I’m fine with my tannish skin tone.

If you had a tiny scar on your face, would you get it removed or just keep it?  Keep it; I already do.

Have you had an x-ray in the past year? Nah. My last one had been nearly 5 years ago, when I needed to get my back checked for scoliosis.

Do you think your first love still loves you?  No. And that’s okay. :)

What is something that is “going right” in your life?  EVERYTHINGGGGGGGGGGG I am so so happy with my life right now weeeee. I have the job of my dreams – I’m even working with THE ACTUAL K-POP GROUP SLASH PHENOMENON SLASH ICONS BTS for one of the clients I handle FHKDHGKHGFDKGHDKGH, I have the best and most supportive friends in the world, and I am now starting to grow my collection of BTS merch with my hard-earned money. Everything is going abso-fucking-lutely perfectly, and to think I didn’t think I would make it past 2020.

When did you feel ready to start dating?  Middle of high school.

When was the last time your pet bit you? If you don’t have a pet, have you ever been bitten by someone else’s?  I was play fighting with Cooper earlier tonight, and he got a little bit excited and ended up biting my upper lip quite harder than usual. It stung for a while, but it’s okay now.

Where were you the last time you made out?  I think it was my bedroom.

When was the last time you cried tears of joy? Yesterday.

How do you type your sad smileys?  Just this :(

Do you have “decorative hand-towels” that cannot be used in your house?  Nope.

What was the last soda you drank?  Probably the Coke I drank at an org event last year, pre-pandemic, out of sheer thirst. There wasn’t any water being served so I just gulped down the soda and tried to ignore the annoying fizziness. I don’t drink soda.

What was the last thing someone made fun of you for?  I was having a video call session with my workmates this afternoon as a way to end the week on a good note, and I recounted my experience of being locked out of the office while I was in the middle of a presentation for a client, and how I managed to get myself back in.

Have you ever had any type of surgery?  Nope.

Should kids be allowed to get tattoos/piercings without parental consent?  No.

Who was the last person to hit on you?  No one has in a while.

What was the last thing you decided not to do, that you were supposed to?  A deliverable a client asked me to do. It can wait til Monday.

What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to tell someone?  Maybe straight up admitting to my mom that she can be hurtful sometimes. It’s hard because she never actually processes things like that and they do nothing but vanish into thin air, even though it takes everything in me to be that honest.

What do you put on hot dogs?  Mayonnaise.

Ever fallen in the shower?  Like once, when I was 10 or 11.

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever called someone you care about?  Continued from last night. It was probably ‘bitch.’ Based on what I’ve learned from my mom, I put extra effort in particuarly watching what comes out of my mouth, because I know how words stick.

Do you think that things will get better?  I did, and now it has.

Have you ever legitimately saved a person’s life?  I think I may have. The story is a little triggering though, so I wouldn’t share it.

What’s your favourite book genre?  Doesn’t really count as a genre but I like auto/biographies.

Have you ever walked out of a movie at the theatre?  I’ve felt like it, but I’ve never done it.

Do dogs like you?  Yes, at least for 99.5% of my experiences.

Would you say that you project an air of authority?  In certain circles. But there are some groups where I trust others to lead rather than me.

Have you ever jumped off a high dive into a pool?  Nah, because I’ve never seen one. But even if I did, I think I would be too scared to do it hahaha.

Do you use one towel when you shower or two? (one for hair, one for body)  One. I use it to wash my entire body already.

Have you ever been to one of the great lakes?  No.

Who do you know that had a baby recently?  The son of one of my old college instructors. I believe she had been born in March because that prof recently posted family photos on Facebook that celebrated the baby’s first monthsary.

Do you like Usher’s songs?  Not in particular.

When was the last time you went to a waterpark?  Not a big fan of these as I find them unhygienic haha. The last time must have been...like anywhere between 12-15 years ago.

Have you ever ridden a train? Just once, and I had to go with Jum because I didn’t want to go alone.

What do you eat your French fries with?  Mayonnaise. If there isn’t any available, I’d want the fries to at least be generously sprinkled with salt; otherwise I’d find it too bland.

Do you have family problems?  Nothing blatant, but I know we are more dysfunctional than how we make it out to be.

What’s the last food you ate that was stale?  Pizza. I got two extra large boxes for my birthday last Wednesday and until now we still have some of it around :((( I ate some slices at around 3 AM earlier and they were tough as fuck to chew, hahaha. Still good, though.

How do you like your grilled cheese?  I don’t have grilled cheese sandwiches often. Surprise me.

What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked?  I don’t cook.

What was your favorite thing to do as a little kid?  I liked watching my cousin play video games; playing outside; and answering my friends’ autograph books (aka my pre-survey days, lol).

Have you ever been close to drowning? Yup but just once. I was swimming and was just about to come up for air when one of my cousins, coming from the bottom of the pool, suddenly started to playfully pull me down. I was nearly out of breath by then and he had a much stronger grip on me, so I struggled for a while and ended up panicking and thrashing around a bit before I was able to wriggle myself free.

Have you ever had a panic attack?  It’s rare that it happens, but when it does it’s really bad and there’s no telling when it would subside.

Do you like doing housework?  Some, and only if I’m in the mood to. If I feel like I have to do it, then I get lazy.

Would you ever get implants?  I considered it before as a teen, back when small-chested girls were still bullied or made fun of on an everyday basis. How fucked up is that? I’m so relieved at how much social media has progressed.

Do you own a robe?  No.

Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? I have a younger sister but she’s barely a baby; she’s literally turning 21 this year. Nina.

Do you like crust on pizza or do you cut it off?  I like crust as long as it’s normal crust or stuffed crust. I can’t stand thin crust.

What was the last song you listened to?  Euphoria - credited to BTS, but it’s a Jungkook solo.

Have any of your family members been to jail?  Not blood relatives, but I know of super extended unrelated family members who’ve been to prison. Is there anyone that you feel you still need some closure with?  I don’t think so. Sometimes no closure is closure.

Can you remember when you first learned how to read?  I can’t, actually. All I remember is that I suddenly wanted to read everything by the time I was 5 and asked for nothing but storybooks every Christmas.

What event in your life has transformed your personality the most?  College. Gabie also had a very big influence on me during our relationship.

Have you ever had any teeth pulled?  Yes, but it was because it was already decayed.

Do you still want to be what you wanted to be in elementary school?  No, but I do elements of it in my work so that works out well for me. I wanted to be an author when I was in grade school, and today I regularly write various materials in my job.

What’re some TV shows that you would like to get into?  I just wanna get reconnected with The Crown again. I was already into it but I had to stop watching for a LONG time, because the show had some personal connections to my ex and so it seemed hard to get into the new season without breaking down lol. Now that I’m doing fine, I feel like it’s a good time to revisit the show.

How would you feel if you were drafted for the military?  Won’t happen here, but it’s the kind of situation where I wouldn’t really have a choice and would have to follow.

What is your favorite Queen song?  I don’t have any.

Do you know how to use any foreign currency? What do you mean, use...? Don’t you just use money to pay?? Hahaha or if you mean convert, then yeah I know how to do that with several currencies – US dollar, Korean won, Euro, Japanese yen, and whatever official name the pound has.

Been kissed by someone who you knew was “bad” for you?  Nope.

Ever taken an at-home pregnancy test?  I have not.

When was the last time you were at a loss of what to do?  I usually don’t have plans laid out on weekends these days anymore, so lately it’s all been a matter of winging it and just wanting to make sure that by the end of the day I get to say I made the most out of my free time.

What did you do on your favorite date with a guy/girl?  The time we did museum hopping + Italian dinner, or the one where we had French dinner + jazz bar.

What’s a movie you have seen in the theater more than once?  I never do rewatches for movies still in cinemas.

What is the reason you’re still alive?  I was stubborn and wanted to see if life would get better; I didn’t want to leave my dogs behind; I didn’t want to miss out on how potentially great and exciting my life could end up being; I didn’t want to cause and leave an even bigger emotional rift on my family.

I’m so happy I stayed.

Have you ever had sex in someone else’s bed/bedroom?  Yeah. Not the best decision, and I wouldn’t do it again lol.

Do you ever brush your hair before you go to bed?  Sometimes, so that it doesn’t look like a bird’s nest when I wake up the next day.

Have you ever had a dream about sleeping with a celebrity? (You don’t have to give details.)  I don’t think so. I have definitely imagined it in...other ways, though.

Has anyone ever told you that they needed you? Do you think they meant it?  Both in the superficial and loaded senses, yeah. 

How did you feel when you woke up today? What was the first thing you thought about?  I felt kind of like shit, just because I slept for only 1.5 hours – my body automatically wakes me up by a certain time, no matter what time I fell asleep. And also because my back and shoulder muscles were killing me with how sore they felt.

Do you still tell your parents that you love them?  I show it, but I don’t say it. I’m pretty stingy when it comes to that phrase.

Have you ever said “I love you” to someone you weren’t going out with?  Yes? It shouldn’t be limited to people you’re dating? I express it to Anj and Andi all the time.

Have you ever been threatened before?  Sure.

Would you date someone with a physical disability?  Yes.

Think of the last person you had sex with. Do you think they’ve slept with anyone else since they last slept with you?  Purely guessing, it’s likely. I’m not updated about her life anymore, though; life has been going on as if she never existed.

The last time you dyed your hair, what color did you dye it?  I’ve never had it dyed.

Think of the last time you went out to eat. Who paid?  I went out by myself, so I paid.

Do you save at least 15 percent of your income?  Yeah. I had a very good saving streak in which I was able to save anywhere around 50-60% every month...and thennnn I became a fan of BTS early this month LOOOOOL so now I’m back to like square three when it comes to my savings haha. Like I still know my limits and when to fucking stop taking out money from my bank account, but I’ve been spending dramatically more than I have been in the last few months.

Do you ever go on Reddit? If so, what are some of your favorite subreddits?  I used to go much more regularly, to the point where it was a part of my daily routine. Now I go at least once a month. I usually check out the Ask Reddit (for anecdotes), Today I Learned (for trivia), and GMM subreddits. Sometimes I’ll get on the Squared Circle subreddit as well to be updated on wrestling.

Were you ever a flower girl or ring bearer in anyone’s wedding when you were little?  Many times as a flower girl, yeah.

Are your parents in good health?  Fortunately, yes.

Have you ever been a caregiver to a sick/disabled relative?  Nope.

Is there any type of medicine you can’t take? For what reason?  Not that I know of.

Do you have a favorite pair of pajamas? What do they look like?  I don’t have pajama sets since I find them too warm.

Do you have any interesting pillow cases?  Eh, I don’t think so.

If something on your body hurts, which part is it most likely to be?  Shoulder muscles or my lower back.

Are you more afraid of spiders or bees?  Bees.

Have you ever worn fake nails? If so, what did the last pair you wore look like?  No.

Is Russian or Native American history more interesting to you?  Native American.

#survey #surveys

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

Darkstache Week Day Seven: Ordinary People

Days: 1, 2 , 3, 4 , 5, 6, 7

At last, the final prompt of the wonderful event hosted by @projectdarkstache! Thank you so much for encouraging everyone to create such fantastic pieces and I hope all the works can be cherished by their creators! You’ve all done fantastic!

~

After years of causing chaos and trouble as the Actor, Mark uses his new freedom to bring the fictional world he ruled back to the modern real world. But what about Dark and Wilford?

Word Count: 2,437

(while not necessarily a warning, this does contain sympathetic!Actor becoming Youtuber!Mark in the timeline my stories are written in.)

-

If he was asked, Mark would admit he had no idea when he felt like ‘himself’ again. It had been decades since the troubled actor’s heart was shattered, the will to live had vanished, and the ability to die eluded him. His broken soul was utterly consumed by the terrors of the Manor’s arcanic past until he became a god-like figure in a world of his own creation. Former friends were moulded and reshaped into characters to suit his schemes. Poor, innocent souls over the decades were pulled into the cat-and-mouse plot to populate the worlds. Drama and chaos were on the regular schedule, and how the Actor thrived!

But now… Peace. And Mark was baffled by it.

He remembered standing at the edge of the city, watching the sun rise like he had never seen the day before. In all the years of darkness and being pulled like a puppet by unseen forces, maybe that was the truth. A new life, a new start. The ‘performances’ he had been part of were failed attempts to gain control over a world that had torn him to pieces and tossed him in the trash. All they achieved was pain and suffering. As he recognised this and wanted to do good, the world he had mastery over was fading and merging with the real world - the one he had left behind. With new independence, he was losing grip over whatever powers he had before. No more would he be able to cheat death or restart time. This was it, the final ‘act’. He didn’t feel sorry for himself. Mark was finally ready to break free from the puppet strings and start over… But there were two in particular he needed to apologise to. Trying to face Dark or Wilford now would result in mockery or gunfire (or both). However, from his spot on the hill, he could see a new opportunity. He could reverse the crimes that were cast. Let them and all their old friends live the lives they were meant to in this new, modern world.

Mark opened his arms wide as the light of the morning sun hit his weary body.  At last, the game was up. He could set everything right.

--

--

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour, Damien himself!” A familiar voice sang as he entered the office with his usual dramatic flair. 

“It’s ‘Mayor Brooks’ while you are here, Mark. But it is good to see you.” Damien countered, playfully rolling his eyes. Even if Mark was a big internet celebrity, he made it his mission to check in regularly on Damien. It was a nice relief, even if the pair were trying to regain grounds on their friendship. Mark had dated his twin sister in university, but the manner in which the pair broke up was so dramatic, it caused a rift between the two young men. At least a friendship from childhood was not one that could be broken forever. He saved the document he was typing and closed the laptop. “If you are here, can I assume there is some great problem going on in your world?”

“Oh, no no. All good on my end!” Mark slumped onto the sofa to the side of the office with a laugh. “I recorded one huge game over the weekend and scored myself some free time. What better way to spend it than with my favourite politician?”

“As much as I appreciate the compliment, I would gather that your other friends are busy and you don’t have anyone else to turn to.” However blunt the statement might be, there was a smile on Damien’s face as he fell back onto the free half of the couch. Mark responded with a loud gasp and a hand on his chest, which only prompted Damien to lightly push him.

“How dare you! I’ll have you know I came here to see if you wanted to grab a coffee with me. I found ten bucks in my pants pocket this morning and I wanna splash out. Come on, Dames! Doesn’t your favourite coffee place have the best pumpkin spiced latte on this side of the city?”

“Mark, it’s May. They aren’t going to make that for you.” Now it was Damien’s turn to be pushed as Mark waved the ten dollar bill in his face.

“I think you’ll find myself and mister Alexander Hamilton will disagree with tha- HEY!” Letting his guard down was a mistake, as Damien took the chance to snatch the money out of his hand and jump onto his feet. “You crooked politician! Stealing the money of an innocent, hard-working man like me!”

Damien fetched his coat with a chuckle. “For someone who wants coffee, you don’t seem very keen in moving for it.” It worked, and a childishly offended Mark pulled himself off the couch. The money was returned to Mark as the pair exited the office. Damien did need a break, he decided as he locked the door after him.

-

Mark was an interesting man. He could act loud and brash, but it was only a mask that hid a soul that seemed older than thirty. Damien used to joke that Mark might be an old man stuck in a young body. The walk to the coffee shop took the usual diversion through a nearby park so they could swap stories and chat without the rush of the world shoving them forward. Mark and his content creator friends were busy working on a variety of projects, and he himself admitted he was feeling happier in himself than he had been in recent years. Likewise, Damien had been working on completing some important jobs around the city and trying to get some new schemes underway.  It was busy, but rewarding. In times like this, neither had to play the part cast for them by society. They could be themselves, just like old times. It meant that Damien was more relaxed and jovial by the time they reached their destination.

The coffee shop had the familiar busy hum to it as the pair entered. Since Damien was a regular, there was never any fanfare of the mayor visiting their business. Mark’s ‘perfect’ disguise of a worn baseball cap and his glasses seemed to do the job of keeping a low profile. Surprisingly, the barista did indeed agree to make a pumpkin spiced latte for Mark, as well as Damien’s regular order. Both drinks and two large muffins were covered by the ten dollar bill, much to Mark’s delight. For now, they simply had to wait for their drinks.

“- And still no sign of a special someone?” It was a question Mark frequently asked. Damien seemed content to be ‘married’ to his work, but Mark would argue that the companionship would make the heavy workload more bearable. They both knew it was true, but Damien was a stubborn man. He was too proud to deal with blind dates, and seemed insistent on waiting for ‘the right person’. Instead, Damien countered with a question about Amy and how she and the two dogs were doing. A simple diversion, but a wholesome one, as Mark could share silly moments and photos on his phone, and Damien could enjoy the tales. How could he not be happy for his friend? It seemed like things were finally looking up for him.

At that, Mark’s drink and the muffins were ready, but there was no sign of Damien’s drink. He insisted Mark go fetch a table while Damien continued waiting. Several long minutes passed as people who ordered similar drinks received theirs, and Damien was tempted to ask one of the staff about his drink. Just as he was about to, the door slammed open as a man stumbled in.

“Geez, man! Could you not break that door, please?” The manager shouted at the stranger, who hurried over and apologised profusely while ordering his ‘usual’ summer iced drink and telling a story about a kid outside throwing ice-cream at him. Damien pulled out his phone to try and look busy, but his eyes strayed from the screen and darted to the man.

The stranger was a head taller than Damien and had a broad build that was emphasised by the fitted white t-shirt and jogging pants he was wearing. His black, curly hair looked somewhat erratic, while the large, bushy moustache reminded Damien of the chief of police from a TV show he loved. Facial hair of that style wasn’t in season anymore - not to mention this wasn’t as eloquently groomed as other moustaches would have been - so it was likely something important to the man. His face was framed by a sturdy jawline, which gave a somewhat intimidating air. But his eyes… Were looking in Damien’s direction. Oops.

The Mayor gulped and returned his attention to his phone.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Damien jumped at the sudden voice and presence beside him. The stranger had stepped closer without him realising it. “Is something wrong? Did that kid get ice-cream on my shirt?”

“No, your shirt is fine.” Damien responded quickly, intending to leave it at that. But the stranger stayed firm, bringing a sigh out of the politician. “I’m sorry. I know it’s rude to stare. I thought I recognised you, that’s all.” 

“And do you?” The stranger sounded genuinely curious. That was enough to prompt Damien to lock and pocket his phone.

“I’m not sure. I feel like I do, and I wouldn’t forget a moustache like that, but I can’t place anything… Even if it feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue.” Realising how odd that sounded, his shoulders slumped in resignation. “I’m sorry, this all sounds rather bizarre from a complete stranger -”

“No!” Both men were taken aback at the stranger’s interruption. “Er, no. Sorry. It doesn’t sound weird. I feel the same. I feel like I know you -”

“I’m the Mayor. That’s hardly a surprise.”

“- yeah, but like I know know you, you know?” The stranger shook his head, curls bouncing with a nervous chuckle. “I think this is a sign. Maybe we ought to get to know each other properly, just in case we met in a dream.” A large hand was offered to Damien. “The name’s William Barnum, but friends can call me -”

“The Colonel.” Damien finished. Confusion was mirrored on both faces.

“How did you -”

“I don’t know?” No matter how he tried to place a specific memory with the phrase, nothing came to mind. Instead, he pushed it aside. “My name is Damien Brooks. Despite the rather odd circumstances, it is a pleasure to meet you.” The large hand was taken, and they gave a firm shake.

Immediately, a memory crossed Damien’s mind. This man had pink in his hair. His own hands were gray. Mark had a shadowed, wicked grin on his face. But as soon as it came, it vanished, like trying to recall a fading dream. 

“Hey, Damien?” William’s dark eyes had drifted aside as he tried to encourage the words to come to him. “Do you want to go out for lunch this week?” A simple question made Damien’s heart skip a beat as an all-too familiar sensation of butterflies in his stomach manifested.

“Are - are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah… Is that too forward? I feel like it’s the right thing to do. You’re very handsome.” 

Strange. Why did Damien feel like William had complimented him like that a hundred times before? Stranger still, why did it make him feel so happy to hear the nervous rambling? He reluctantly pulled his hand away so he could snatch a napkin from the counter and the pen in his pocket. A phone number was hastily scribbled on it, before it was scratched out and written neater. Just in case, his name was noted underneath.

“Here. Text me later. If you’re free, we could always… Go for dinner?” It also felt like the right thing to do, like it was a regular event. William seemed to agree, as his face lit up. Upon receiving the napkin, it was treated like something sacred by William, who carefully folded and placed in his wallet.

“Yeah! That’d be - I’d really like that - Bully.” That exclamation of relief shouldn’t bring a familiar tugging of heartstrings to Damien, but it did. Only that he was with Mark (and that he has a job to return to), Damien would have gladly gone wherever William was going. 

Both names were called as the drinks were finally ready. Each one was lifted, and the pair gave their parting words and a promise to arrange something as soon as William returned home. But just as Damien was about to turn and walk to the table, William leaned down enough to kiss him on the cheek, hurrying off before anything else could happen. All Damien could do was watch the larger man disappear with a wistful smile before turning to find Mark at the table.

“You’re putting the local tomatoes to shame. You okay?” Mark asked, innocently sipping his latte. It was still mostly full. The drink itself looked hot. How long had that moment actually lasted?

“I’ve got a date tonight.” Damien was so embarrassed after blurting his answer, he didn’t notice how Mark’s surprise was an act. “I started talking to a guy up at the counter and - well, we’re meeting for dinner.”

“I’m so happy for you, man. Look at you, getting out there and being ambitious! I’m sure he’ll be a great guy!” Mark grinned, letting the topic drop so the Mayor could get his head around the ‘unexpected’ event. 

While they were talking after the drinks were finished, a text arrived on Damien’s phone. Mark noticed there was a number rather than a name, but it brought a smile to Damien’s face. The Youtuber waved his hand and insisted Damien needed to ‘urgently’ answer it. As the Mayor did so, Mark noticed how the shadow that was always looming over Damien finally dissipated. At last, the malicious claws from a lifetime ago were gone, and with that, Mark’s own powers.

But what did the loss of powers matter when he was able to use them to help Dark and Wilford start a new relationship together? They could live as normal, ordinary people, just like Dark had always vowed when confronting the Actor. Today: the Actor was dead, Mark was alive, and the curse holding them all down had been broken for good.

Now, if only Celine would talk to him so they could become friends again...

#projectdarkstache2020 #darkstacheweek2020 #writersofmark #dilliam #darkstache #who killed markiplier #actor!mark #mayor damien #william j barnum #Blue Soul (Damien) #Eccentric Goof (Colonel) #(I SWEAR I didn't mean for it to be this long but I SWEAR it's cute)

[official-impravidus]

5 Times Peter Did Someone Else’s Makeup

By @official-impravidus for @littlemissagrafina

Rating: General

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Happy Hogan, Happy Hogan/May Parker

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, May Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Morgan Stark

Summary: and the 1 time he did his own

(written for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange)

1

To put it simply, he had been in a rush. Competition season was just around the corner, and MJ was pushing the team to their limits with extra practice, which meant morning practice and after school practice. Peter had barely gotten out of the door once he remembered that he had to get to the school, being in the middle of a deep concentration as he perfected his winged eyeliner. Then, the after school practice ran a half an hour late because everyone was slacking on their ancient Greek philosophers. 

So there he was, scurrying out of the metal doors of Midtown and nearly ripping the car door off its hinges as he rushed into his seat.

“Hey Happy! I’m so so so sorry I’m late. MJ made us stay late because Flash didn’t know difference between Hypatia and Aspasia even though they have over a century apart, and then she started quizzing us on which philosophers specialized in Pythagorean, Peripatetic, or Pyrrhonist, and everyone kept mixing them up and we had to go over it for like twenty minutes until we all had it down and…”

“Don’t need the whole run down, bud. It’s okay,” Happy stated. “Couldn’t understand it if I tried.”

“Right. Sorry,” Peter said sheepishly. “How was your day?”

“Same old, same old. Once I drop you off, I’m heading back to the apartment.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s date night! Where are you taking May?”

“Do you remember that new restaurant near that bike shop?”

Peter’s mouth went agape. “That super fancy one where they put chocolate in everything?!”

Happy nodded with a soft grin. “That’s the one.”

“She always looks through the window when we pass by there! She looked up the menu and I swear she was drooling when she read about the bacon mac and cheese.” Peter smiled. “She’s gonna love it, Happy.”

“I hope so.”

“She will,” Peter reassured. With a content sigh, he pulled out his laptop. “I should probably get started on my research paper.”

“You know Tony’s rule,” Happy said.

“No lab work until homework is done,” Peter recited with a nod. “I know, I know. Which is why I’m doing it now.”

“Is it a blackout kinda day or a white noise one?” Happy asked.

“I could go for some of that boring piano music you like.”

Happy shoved Peter’s arm. “It’s not boring.”

“It just strips all the tenseness from my tight, aching muscles. It lulls me to sleep.”

“If it lulls you to sleep, then you shouldn’t be listening to it while you’re doing homework,” Happy said.

“Then, what do you suggest?” Peter asked.

Happy pressed the radio screen and a string quartet of Panic! at the Disco’s “I Write Sins Not Tragedies” began to play.

“Oh, you know me so well.”

Peter fell into a deep focus and had barely realized the car ride was over until Happy had said a soft “we’re here.”

“Thanks, Happy. Have a good evening!” Peter said cheerfully.

“You’re staying here tonight, right?” Happy asked.

“Yeah, I am. It’s a Compound weekend. Why…” Peter’s faced morphed into a disgusted grimace. “Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” He shook his head. “See you later!” Happy gave a gentle wave before pulling out.

Peter let out a breath, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he headed into the Compound, fiddling with the watermelon gum wrappers crumpled deep in his jeans.

With a skip in his step, he entered the lab, plopping his backpack on the floor and hopping into his rollie chair with a little spin.

“Hello to you too,” Tony said with a laugh. “Bad traffic?”

“Late practice,” Peter corrected.

“She’s really drilling you guys, huh?” Tony asked. “Well, at least you’ll be prepared.” He looked up from his project, but stopped as he caught sight of Peter’s face. “New look?”

Peter furrowed his brows in confusion, but froze. He hadn’t used a makeup wipe on the drive there. “I… uhm… I… it’s not what it looks like.”

“Well it looks good. Would’ve barely noticed if it weren’t for the eyeliner it’s so natural. I mean really, you’re glowing. How do you get your skin looking so dewey and fresh?”

Peter’s brain could hardly catch up. “I mix highlighter with my foundation.”

“See, I’ve never thought about that. Mine always comes out so dull and flat. I’ll have to try that.”

“You, uh, you’ve worn makeup?” Peter stammered.

“When you’re on camera as much as me, you’ve gotta get at least a little pick me up. I mean, some of that shit is high definition. Do I really want people seeing my pores and pimples in high definition? No thank you.”

“Oh. Uh. Wow.”

“You can’t be new at this. I mean, it looks great. I’m jealous if you are.”

Peter shook his head. “I’ve been doing it for a couple months.”

“And why haven’t I seen it?” Tony questioned.

“I, uh, didn’t want you to think it was weird,” Peter admitted.

Tony softened. “Why would you think that?”

“I mean, I worry you think a lot of things are weird. I just, want to... impress you, I guess.”

“Well, wanna know what impresses me? That winged eyeliner. It takes Pepper ten minutes of fiddling with makeup remover on cue tips when she’s doing hers.”

Peter, nearly rendered speechless, nodded again. “It took a lot of practice.” He paused. “You’re really… you don’t think I’m weird?”

“I could never think you were weird, kid.” He pursed his lips. “Well, yes I can, because you put sour skittles in your chocolate ice cream, but that’s what makes me love you. Don’t be afraid to be weird. I’ve been weird all my life. Embrace the weird and conquer the world with your weirdness because one day, what used to be weird will be brilliant and people will want to be weird like you.”

Peter looked to his feet bashfully. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“You know, Pepper has a big charity thing tonight. She could really use your help with her smokey eye.”

Peter perked up. “Really? I’ve… I’ve done makeup on May before, but I’ve never done it on someone with an eye shape like hers.” “Then this will be perfect practice!”

Peter got a little mascara on her eyelid, but he made up with the perfect blend of silver sparkle and charcoal shades.

2

“Stop squeezing your eyes, you’re gonna make the eyeliner bumpy.”

“Well, it’s a little hard to relax when you’ve got a pencil pressing against my eye.”

Peter sighed. “Ned, you just gotta breathe. I’m not gonna poke your eye.”

“It sure feels like you’re poking my eye,” Ned grumbled.

“I’ll do it even lighter,” Peter reassured.

It was 9AM, and Peter was trying to use as much precision in his rush to finish Ned and MJ’s makeup for the pride parade. He had finished his look, a blend of pinks, purples, and blues with silver glitter eyeliner, and was finishing Ned’s rainbow look, or at least, attempting to.

“You were doing so good, man,” Peter whined.

“Because it was all fluffy brushes before this!” Ned groaned. “Just get it over with.”

“I could if you would stop freaking squeezing your eyelids!”

MJ sighed. “Some of us are in the waiting dock, Ned.”

“I’m sorry! I’m not used to this!” Ned exclaimed.

Peter pulled gently at the skin on his browbone, making the skin pulled taunt enough to slide the eyeliner on with one smooth swipe. He followed suit with the other and slumped back into his chair. “Okay. You’re done.” 

“Oh, thank God, because I had to go to the bathroom at like the contour.” He scampered out of the bathroom, legs held tight. 

“What’s in store for me?” MJ asked.

“I was thinking a sharp edged blend of pink and to the dark pink to brown in the crease with a cut crease,” Peter thought out loud.

There was a knock at the door.

“You expecting someone?” MJ asked.

“No?” Peter said, confused. He went to the door, eyes widening in shock at the sight.

There was Tony Stark in a bright blue, pink, and yellow vertical striped suit.

“Mr. Stark! What are you doing here?”

“Today is pride, right?” Tony said with a cheeky grin on his lips.

“I-it is.”

“Great! Then, I’ll give you three a ride. I’m meeting the gang later.”

Peter’s nodded, mouth still wide open. “Because New York pride is endorsed by the Avengers. Right.”

“So, what do you say? I may or may not have pulled out my holographic chrome Ferrari.”

Peter rolled his eyes but let out a light chuckle. “Of course you did.” He stepped out of the way. “MJ’s look will be quick. If you want, I can do something for you?”

Tony grinned. “I’d love that.”

Behind his tinted shades, Tony rocked a pink crease, yellow lid, and blue lower lashline, a big smile adorned by a bright pink lipstick.

3

After the big robot invasion of 2025, the Avengers were beyond exhausted from the dealing with the repercussions and volunteering for the rebuilding.

For the first time in weeks after being preoccupied with volunteering, charity work, and clean up, they could finally relax for a group get together outside of work.

“You know what I could use?” Tony asked to no one in particular. “Really crappy, artificial, not at all traditional Chinese food. Who’s in?” The team all muttered words of agreement, melting into the cushions of the recreation room’s couches. 

“Text me your orders. I sent the menu in the groupchat.”

More mutters of acknowledgement.

Peter settled on the floor, makeup scattered on the coffee table, mouth agape as he stared intently at his reflection, fake lash in hand.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

“Graduation is just around the corner and I need to perfect my look for commencements,” Peter explained. He blinked, checking for any warping. “How does it look?” 

The team let out a low murmur of “oo”s and “ah”s and “nice.” 

“That looks fantastic,” Natasha praised.

“The adornments to your face are absolutely astonishing!” Thor praised. “Would you be so kind to apply your pigments to my eyes?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “You want me to do your makeup?”

“I’d love if you did mine, too,” Natasha said.

“I bet you could do some great red, white, and blue for me,” Steve said.

Peter looked around. “That could be really cool. Avengers inspired makeup looks on the Avengers? I mean, that’d be an honor.”

So he got started. As they feasted on fried rice and General Tso’s spicy chicken, they jammed to ABBA and looked fabulous while dancing to Dancing Queen.

4

“So, I made you some of that green juice you like so you can sip on that while we get you ready. We also put together a playlist of all of your favorite dishwashing music which we both know is also your hype playlist and you need to get a little hype! Let loose! In addition, we also brought you some of your favorite hors d’oeuvres such as chocolate covered strawberries, that basil spread with the tomatoes on the crunchy bread, caprese salad, and just a big pile of prosciutto because I know you like to stress eat salty meats.”

May smiled softly. “Thank you, baby. This is amazing.”

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked.

“Nervous. Excited. Mostly excited. How are… are you okay? With this?” 

Peter nodded. “Of course I am. You’re happy, Happy’s happy, and I… I’m happy. I’m happy that you could find something like this after Ben.”

She let out a shaky breath. “I’m getting married.”

Peter grinned. “You are.” He spun her chair. “Now sit there and be pretty while I do you even prettier.”

“You know, you were at my first wedding.”

Peter looked up. “I was?”

“You were just a baby, but Richard and Mary didn’t want to leave you at home after you had just gotten over your pneumonia. You were wearing a little onesie with a tuxedo printed on it, and you had your foofie.”

“I remember my foofie!” Peter smiled nostalgically as he envisioned the fluffy scarf that he snuggled with for years.

“You had just gotten it, and you would just run your fingers on the blue fluff, entranced by the texture on your little fingers.”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah. I loved that thing.”

“But, you caused a little bit of a scene.”

Peter furrowed his brows. “I did?”

“Well, your mom had just come back from feeding you and Ben wanted to make you giggle, so he was dancing with you, twirling and spinning you around, and I guess he jerked you around a bit too much and you vomited.”

“Oh no.”

“In his mouth and all over his tux.”

“Oh no.”

“So, really, there’s no reason to worry about messing anything up because at least you’re not doing that,” she said with a teasing grin.

“Well, I’ll try my best not to do that again,” Peter said. He softened, squeezing her hand gently. “You’re gonna make so many new memories and it’s gonna be awesome, May.”

“So are you,” May said. 

“I’m really happy for you.” He shook his head. “Now don’t you start crying and streak this amazing foundation I just put on.”

She let out a wet laugh and held her arms out. “C’mere.”

Peter gave her a tight hug, snuggling next to her in her cushy chair.

She placed a soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He pulled away. “Now, c’mon. Stop stalling. I have to get this done so I can do mine.”

5

“Tony. Stop crying.”

“This is an emotional time and I am an emotional man!”

“It’s just homecoming.”

Tony crossed his arms and scowled at Peter. “Well you’re not one to talk about just homecoming.”

Peter pouted. “You crash a plane and nearly get killed by your homecoming date’s dad one time…”

“Look at my beautiful girl.” He pet her hairsprayed locks gently.

Morgan rolled her eyes with a smile on her dark red lips. “You’re so embarrassing, Dad.”

“So, when are we meeting this boy? Because then I’ll really be embarrassing.”

“Dad!” Morgan whined.

“You still have told me nothing about this boy. What are you hiding? Is he an Anti-Avenger protestor? Oh, oh! Or is he a scheming supervillain turning you to the dark side?” He gasped. “Does he work for Oscorp?”

“His name is Miles, he’s an artist, and he’s really really nice so please don’t screw this up for me because I really really like him.”

Tony softened. “I’ll behave.”

“Please,” Morgan pleaded.

“I’ll behave!” Tony repeated.

“He won’t,” Peter stated. “And we both know that.”

“Hey! I take offense to that,” Tony said.

“Well, as much as I love this wonderful family chat, I really gotta finish Morgan’s makeup, and when you stress her out, it makes her eyes scrunch up and I can’t get the blending right so… shoo. Scooch your booch outta here.”

“No. I want to stay,” Tony stated.

“Are you not gonna distract her?” Peter asked with a raised brow.

“Maybe…?”

“Tony!”

“Okay! Fine. I won’t say a word. You won’t even know I’m here.” Peter turned back to Morgan, packing a shimmery white on her lid, but flipped around when he heard a choked sob from behind.

“Tony,” he said exasperatedly.

“She’s just growing up so fast!”

1

Peter’s gloved hands trembled as he filled in his eyebrows in a room that did nothing to block the shutters of cameras and excited murmur from the large crowd on the other side of the wall.

Tony took his hand in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Are you sure you wanna do this? Because you can back out any time you’d like.” Peter shook his head. “It’s time. The new generation of Avengers deserve to have a real face to lead them, and for the public to trust us, they need to know that I trust them too. The world knows Spider-Man and his good. And now, they’ll know Peter Parker too.”

“They already know Peter Parker,” Tony said softly. “Peter Parker conducted the widest reaching scientific climate change campaign. He promoted carbon storage, protected and expanded forests in every country on every continent on the planet, and invented a reliable and accessible long-term energy source cheaper and easier to manufacture than fossil fuels. God, Peter. Once they find out that Peter Parker is Spider-Man, they’re going to love him even more.”

Peter’s face flushed a warm red. “Thanks, Tony.” He looked to his reflection and smiled sadly. Looking at his brown eyes, red blended to his crease and blue lining his lashline, he realized that this was the end to a lifetime of secrets and a new beginning where he could finally share the whole person he was.

“You ready?” Tony asked.

“How do I look?” Peter asked meekly.

“You look amazing.” He pulled him into a tender hug. “They’re gonna love you, kid.” He placed his hands firmly on his shoulders and gave a little squeeze. “Do you know how proud I am of you? Because I am. You’re really proving yourself to be quite the hero, and I don’t just mean in your bright red and blue, which really, are you sure we can’t negotiate something a little less gaudy…”

“Says Mr. Hot Rod Red and Gold…”

“I mean, bright blue? Even I have enough class and taste to know that bright blue is a little much.”

“Tony,” Peter said.

“I’m so proud of you kid. You’ve grown into a fantastic young man, and you’re gonna keep growing into a visionary for this next century. You might even outshine me.” He shook his head. “No. I know you will. Because I know you, and I know that you’re an intelligent, selfless, innovating, tenacious, unbelievably incredible person, and you’re gonna change the world.” He smiled a tight, teary smile. “And the world’s not gonna know what hit it once you give it all you’ve got.”

Peter slipped his mask on and took one last shaky breath. “Let’s go do this.”

My name is Peter Benjamin Parker and I am Spider-Man.

#avengers #mcu #marvel #spiderman #peter parker #tony stark #iron man #irondad #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction

[lauras-collection]

More Than I Know [Part 9]

Tom Holland x female reader

Masterlist

Summary: You discover that millions of people witnessed you being sick, Tom has to leave for a press tour, you meet up with a friend and things take an unexpected turn. (I suck at summaries i’m sorry) 

Words: 3.8k (oops)

Warnings:  fluff, swearing, mentions of throwing up, angst, drinking +  intoxicated reader, making out, a shirtless Tom, angst (sorry) nothing else I think (let me know if there is anything in there that I should add)

A/N: How is this already part 9? anyway. This is a long one. I got a little carried away 😅 I’d love to hear your feedback

I hope you enjoy!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

The drive back to London was...weird. It’s not like it was uncomfortable. It wasn’t. You and Tom talked about all kinds of stuff. But the fact that this weekend - and your fake relationship - was coming to an end was looming over your head. Tom was leaving on a press tour tonight. That inevitably meant that he didn’t need you to go on fake dates with him anymore. You tried to find the perfect moment to mention it to Tom, to ask him what was going to happen now. But you couldn’t. You were too scared of the answer. 

***

When you arrived in London, Tom drove to his place first. Tessa came rushing towards the door as soon as Tom opened it. Tom put his suitcase down and greeted her, taking her head in both his hands. 

“Hi, Tessa. Did you miss me?” Tessa yipped before wriggling out of his grip, jogging over to you. “I guess that’s a no.” Tom laughed while you knelt down and started petting the excited staffy.

“Hey, pretty girl. You should be nicer to your owner, you know.” You smiled as she attempted to lick your face. 

“Tessa, get back here. Y/N has already washed her face today.” Tom lightly pulled her by the collar and you got up from your knees. You heard footsteps and Harrison appeared in the doorway to the living room. 

“Hey, Y/N.You feeling better?” He asked and you scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. How did he know? Did Tom tell him you threw up all night? 

“Yeah, a little, thanks...how do you know?” your eyes flickered between the two boys and you saw Tom’s face turn red.

“Uh, yeah...about that.” He rubbed his neck nervously. “Remember that live stream I did?” He looked at you and you nodded. “I uh, I kinda forgot to turn it off.” He what?

“What does that mean?” You asked even though you had a pretty good idea of what it meant. 

“That means, Tommy boy here live streamed you throwing up and him taking care of you. Granted it’s only the sounds but...” Harrison shrugged his shoulders and looked at you sympathetically. You felt your heart sink into your stomach.

“Millions of people saw that.” You muttered, your gaze fixed on the floor. While your mind was already coming up with possible tabloid articles and comments from fans. “Please tell me you can’t actually hear me throw up.” You looked pleadingly at Harrison who shrugged again. That was enough of an answer. “Oh no.” You covered your face with your hands. When you thought to throw up in front of Tom was bad, millions of people witnessing it was even worse. 

“I’m so sorry, love.” Tom expressed compunctiously as he walked over to you.

“But it’s gone now, right?” You removed your hands to look between Tom and Harrison again. Harrison took his phone out of his pocket and typed something.

“Well, if the video title ‘Tom Holland taking care of his girlfriend for 12 minutes straight’ is any indicator I would say it isn’t completely gone.” Harrison said after a moment making you groan. 

I guess it’s true what they say: the internet never forgets. 

“I’m sorry.” Tom said again, his hands now on your shoulders.

“For what it’s worth, the comments are mostly positive.” Harrison shrugged his shoulders. You ignored the fact that he said mostly but you had gotten so much hate already, you weren’t even bothered anymore. 

“Really? Let me see.” You moved away from Tom and towards Harrison, but Harrison took a step back, holding his phone towards his chest. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

“You can’t tell me the comments are positive and then refuse to show me.” You crossed your arms looking at Harrison accusingly. “You know what? I’m just gonna look at it myself.” You reached into the back pocket of your jeans, retrieving your phone. You typed the video title that Harrison had mentioned earlier into the search bar and moments later a few videos popped up. You clicked on the first one. It started with Tom talking to his fans on the live stream, a row of names moving from the bottom of the screen upwards. He was talking about how excited he was for his next project when his eyes suddenly lifted from his phone to look at something behind it. Most likely you on your way to the bathroom. You saw his eyes widen before he jumped out of bed and with a loud bang the phone was thrown onto the desk. All that was visible now was the ceiling of the hotel room and the comments that kept scrolling across the screen at a rapid speed.

-What happened?

-Who’s he with?

-What?

-Where did he go?

-Hellooo?

-Did he accidentally start a live stream? What’s happening?

-Is he throwing up or is that someone else?

Since there wasn’t anything to see you scrolled towards the comment section. You turned the sound down, not wanting to hear yourself heaving. Most of the comments were gushing about how Tom was taking care of you. And you were a hundred per cent agreeing with those people. A few comments, in particular, caught your attention.

-Well at least the girlfriend’s confirmed now lol

-You better treat him the way he deserves Y/N if you hurt him I’m coming for ya 

-Welp, that means he’s officially off the market I guess

-For anyone who can’t get enough of tom saying ‘my girlfriend’ you’re welcome 10:37

You turned the sound back on and clicked on the timestamp

“-but my girlfriend isn’t feeling well and I was wondering-” you turned the sound back down in shock. You hadn’t really realised that he’d called you his girlfriend on the phone. Hearing it now made your heart flutter. But that was part of the deal, right? Make everyone believe you’re a couple, that includes the hotel staff. While Tom and Harrison kept looking at you, sharing worried glances every once in a while you continued scrolling through the comments. There hadn’t really been anything too bad in the comments. You were wondering what Harrison didn’t want you to see. Was it the girlfriend stuff? You had no idea why he would have to hide that from you. 

But then you saw the comments that you’ve been dreading. 

-Oh fuck, what if she’s pregnant? 

-I mean Tom would be a great dad but he’s at the prime of his career now, a bit stupid to get a chick pregnant if you ask me.

-But y’all have to admit that baby would be super cute

Why did everyone’s mind immediately connect throwing up with pregnancy? You groaned and locked your phone again letting your hands fall to your sides. You looked at Tom who was eyeing you with an uncertain expression.

“I’m sorry everyone thinks you got me pregnant. Not only my aunt but your fans now, too.” you felt tears brim your eyes and you realised that even though you had rested a couple of hours today and didn’t have to throw up since last night, you still weren’t back at a hundred per cent.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’ll blow over.” He came over and wrapped his arms around you. “We’ll just ignore it for now and if the comments don’t stop I’ll say something, okay?” He rubbed your back soothingly, just the way he had done it about a million times during the past 36 hours.

You spent the next couple hours with Tom and Harrison, Tessa curled up on the sofa next to you. The two boys tried their best to distract you from thinking about the live stream and the fans reactions. 

Around six in the afternoon, Tom excused himself to take a shower and pack his stuff for the upcoming press tour. Harrison was going to take him to the airport after taking you home. You were a little sad that you wouldn’t get alone time with Tom one last time but it was probably for the best. 

When Harrison pulled up in front of your building you thanked him for taking you while Tom got out of the car to get your suitcase.

“Thanks, Harrison. It was great meeting you.” You smiled at him through the rearview mirror.

“You, too, Y/N.” He returned the smile and you got out of the car. Tom was already waiting for you at the front door. You fumbled your keys out of your coat pocket and opened the door. You were about to say that Tom didn’t need to carry your stuff upstairs, but he had already ascended the staircase halfway. You followed him as quickly as you could opening the door for him. Once inside, Tom carried your suitcase into your bedroom. You stood by the door not sure what to say as he returned. 

“Thanks, Tom. For everything.” You couldn’t help the finality in your voice. Tom didn’t seem to notice though.

“You’re very welcome. It was a lot of fun.” He smiled and you tried to imprint the way his eyes crinkled into your memory. Where you ever going to see that smile in person again? "Well, except for last night. That wasn't so much fun." He chuckled and wrapped you in a hug “I’ll text you when I land, yeah?” His voice was right by your ear and shivers ran down your spine. You only managed to nod before Tom pulled away “See you soon.” and with that, he placed a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You were too perplexed to say anything and by the time you found your voice he was already gone.

***

A couple days later you met your friend Marissa for coffee. You hadn't seen her in such a long time and you needed to get out of the house for something fun for a change.

“Hey. I missed you.” You exclaimed as you walked up to her in front of your favourite coffee shop. The coffee shop where you met Tom. You wrapped your arms around the petite girl and hugged her tightly.

“Missed you, too.” She hugged you back and squeezed you a little bit. “Thought you forgot about me ‘cause you were preoccupied with that boyfriend of yours.” She nudged your shoulder with a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

“No, of course not. He’s on press tour right now and I wanted to see you.” You cringed because it sounded like you were only seeing her because Tom wasn’t around. “I’m sorry that sounded… I wasn’t-“ you started to ramble but Marissa interrupted you.

“I get it, Y/N. You want to spend as much time with him as possible. He’s not around much is he?” She squeezed your hand, letting you know that she understands. 

You shake your head. “Not really. He’ll be gone for weeks at a time, either filming or doing press.” You shrugged your shoulders. This was the first time Tom was gone for such a long time since you met him. And since you realised that you’re in love with him. 

“That sucks.” She pauses for a moment. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy for you. I know that the others have been assholes about it but to be honest I think they’re just jealous.” She nudged your arm again. “C’mon let’s go inside. You need to tell me all about Kate’s wedding.”

***

You had a great time catching up with Marissa. It was nice to have some girl time again. You had both decided that a night out together was long overdue and planned to go to a club soon.

So a few weeks later, you found yourself standing at the bar of a club, Marissa next to you. You had already had a few drinks but the night was still young and you wanted to let loose for a while. After the bartender slid the two shots you had ordered across the counter, you and Marissa downed them quickly and moved back onto the dance floor. The music that was being played was surprisingly good and you had so much fun you didn’t even realise that it was past 2am already. 

You felt Marissa nudge you. “I need to go to the loo!” She exclaimed over the loud music and you nodded, following her out of the crowd of dancing people to get to the toilets. The room was busy when you entered and Marissa immediately queued up. You did as well thinking that it would be better if you took the opportunity to relieve yourself as well.

You were lightly swaying from side to side, a little too drunk to stand straight. But not too drunk to get your phone out of your bag and check instagram. You had unintentionally made it a habit to check Tom’s instagram story a couple of times a day. You told yourself it was because you were curious to see what he was up to. But in reality, it was more because you wanted to hear his voice. Even though you wouldn’t be able to hear anything among the chatter of the girls in the bathroom, you clicked on the little circle with Tom’s icon which was the first one that appeared at the top of your instagram feed. You were immediately greeted with Tom’s face as he said something that you couldn’t hear, a few seconds later Harrison appeared behind him doing a little wave. The next story started and showed Tessa curled up on the sofa in Tom and Harrisons living room and you felt your heart flutter. He was home. You checked the timestamp of the story.

19min ago 

You felt yourself getting antsy. Even though you had been texting with Tom a lot over the past few weeks you were wondering if he wanted to see you now that he was back in London. However, you were a little intoxicated and that made you think that it might be a good idea to just go and see him. Now.

Marissa noticed that you were somewhere else with your thoughts and poked you with a smirk.

“What’re you thinking about.” 

You let out a breathy laugh. “Tom’s home...” You trailed off, not sure if you should voice your idea. Marissa just raised her eyebrows knowingly. “I was wondering if I should go and see if he’s still up?” It sounded more like a question. “His place is nearby and he posted an instagram story about twenty minutes ago...” At this point, you didn’t know if you were trying to convince yourself or Marissa. She just laughed at you.

“Gosh, you’re so in love with him. It’s so cute.” You could only giggle at her words, temporarily forgetting about the whole fake dating debacle you had gotten yourself into. “Let’s get outta here.” She pulled you by the hand and manoeuvred both of you towards the exit. 

Not long after you were standing in front of Tom’s door. You weren’t so sure of your plan now. You decided to send Tom a text to check if he was awake. Your chances were good, he was probably used to a different time zone after such a long time in the states.

you up?

You cringed at your wording but couldn’t bring yourself to rephrase it so you hit send. A few moments later the message was marked as read and a new text bubble appeared. 

yeah, why?  

You locked your phone and knocked on Tom’s front door, not wanting to ring the doorbell in case you’d wake Harrison up. You heard Tom’s footsteps on the other side of the door before it opened. You were greeted with a surprised-looking Tom clad in grey sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt. How did he manage to look so soft all the time?

“Hi.” he breathed out, his brown eyes moving over your frame.

“Hey... I was in the neighbourhood so I thought I’d stop by... check if you’re home. Haven’t seen you in a while.” You purposefully let the fact slide that you had checked his instagram story. Tom eyed you with a look before opening the door wider so you could enter.

“Of course! Yeah, come in.” Tom smiled widely. “D’ you want something to drink?” He asked looking over his shoulder while you followed him into the kitchen. He looked so good.

“Yeah, do you have tequila?” You giggled giggled! and Tom raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Maybe you should stick with water.” He laughed a bit and walked over to one of the cabinets opening it to retrieve two glasses. You leaned back against the counter and looked around the room while Tom poured water into the glasses. “Where’s Tessa?”

“Asleep in the living room.” He handed you one glasses and you took a sip. “What’ve you been up to tonight?” He asked eyeing your outfit once more. “Seems like you had fun.” The corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. 

You nodded “Went clubbing with my friend Marissa. It was a lot of fun. More fun than this.” you say and point at the glass of water in your hand, causing Tom to laugh. 

“Sorry, love but I think you’ve had enough for the night.” 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” You wonder with a cocked eyebrow. Tom takes a step closer to you, now standing right in front of you. His eyes roamed your face for a moment before he spoke. 

“Well, your eyes are glossy and your balance is a little bit off.”

“But only a little bit.” You protest with a pout and Tom chuckled. 

“Still, that means no more alcohol for you young lady.” There was a playfully scolding look on his face and you could only think how cute he looks. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked a curious expression on his face.

“‘Cuz you’re cute.” 

“You think I’m cute?” He arched his eyebrow and you traced the rim of the glass with your finger, only humming affirmatively. “What else do you think of me?” He took another step closer, you could now feel the heat radiating from his body. You sat the glass down on the counter and shrugged your shoulders.

“Well, you’re ridiculously hot, too. So fucking attractive.” You blurted out before thinking. You blushed immediately when you realised what you’ve said, but there’s no way to take back the words.

“I think you’re really fucking attractive, too.” He placed both his hands beside you on the counter, caging you in.

“You do?” You looked at him with big eyes. He was looking down at you and the expression on his face took your breath away.

 The two of you kept looking at each other for what felt like an eternity until his lips were suddenly on yours. You let out a surprised gasp but your hands immediately went to the back of his neck pulling him closer. Tom’s hands moved from the countertop to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up on the counter effortlessly. You spread your thighs and he stepped in between them while his arms wrapped around your waist. You were consumed by the feeling of his lips and his tongue. You’d been so sure that you’d never get to kiss him again, and now, here you were. All alone with him. There was no one else around. This wasn’t a show.   

You moved your hands from his neck to his hips, slipping them under his shirt, letting out a moan when your fingertips touch the warm skin under the fabric of his shirt. You move your hands upwards to take off his shirt completely, his lips losing contact with yours to get the fabric over his head before he returned, now kissing down your chest. Your hands roamed his body while his grabbed your thighs before they moved to the hem of your shirt, slipping it off and throwing it on the floor where Tom’s was already lying. Tom explored the newly exposed skin with his lips, kissing down the valley of your breasts. Your hands tangle in his curls pulling him closer as you let out a soft moan. Tom moved back up, sucking on the skin of your neck and you slid your hands back down his body slipping your hands under the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Tom.” You moaned his name and let out a whimper. 

All of a sudden Tom stopped kissing your neck, grabbed your wrists and pulled your hands away from his body.

“What-... What’s wrong?” Your eyes immediately widen in surprise.

“I can’t...” Tom shook his head, not looking into your eyes, your wrists still in his hold.

“You can’t..?”

“I can’t do this.” He took a step away from you, your hands falling to your thighs and it suddenly dawned on you. Tom didn’t want you the way you wanted him. You couldn’t believe this was happening again. You didn’t think that Tom would be the type to give you a little taste of what it could be like just to push you away a moment later. You didn’t think that Tom would be like Joe. 

“I see...” You couldn’t look Tom in the eyes. You hopped down from the counter bending down to pick up your shirt. You gulped and pulled the shirt back over your head with shaking hands.

“I’ll just…” You pointed in the direction of the front door. “I’ll just go.” You felt so… embarrassed? humiliated? There were a lot of feelings swirling around you at that moment but one was prevalent. Rejected. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t make this awkward. Let’s just forget this happened at all.” your voice was shaky as you turned around to Tom who was looking at you with big eyes and raised eyebrows. You couldn’t really read his expression. Tessa came running from the living room, jumping around your legs, yipping excitedly. You couldn’t pay her any attention though.

“Y/N. No, it’s not...” Tom stammered running his hand through his hair.

“Don’t bother.” You interrupted him “I won’t let you do this to me, Tom… Not you, too.“ You opened the front door and turned to look at him one last time. “Coming here was a mistake.” you mumbled to yourself and you were out of the door before Tom could say anything else. The door slammed behind you but you could still hear Tessa barking. You speed walked to the next street corner as fast as you could and then stopped to support yourself on a house wall, the tears finally falling.

How could you be so stupid to think Tom actually wanted to be with you?

And while you were crying on the corner, Tom was sitting at home, his head in his hands.

“Mate, what the fuck happened?” Harrison, who had been woken up by Tessa’s barking, stood in the doorway to the living room, his eyebrows raised in question.

“I think I really fucked things up.”

“What did you do?”

Part 10

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