#step six is to panic again. step seven is to meet my students and probably still know nothing. step eight is uhhhh cry most likely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starshine583 · 3 years

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New Girl on the Block (7)

(I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter! Feel free to check out the mini series connected to this fic called Journal Entries. I will warn whoever reads it that I’m not sure how long I’m going to keep it up, though.)

Ch.1 / Ch.6 / Ch.8

Chapter 7: That Happy Glow

“This is gonna be so much fun, Tikki!” Marinette exclaimed as she slid on her light pink flats. “I can’t wait to get to the aquarium!”

“Don’t forget your purse!” Tikki reminded, zipping around her chosen’s head. “I want to see some of the fish too!”

Marinette laughed and reached for her coat. The weather had been reported to drop over the weekend, and she didn’t want to take any chances. “Of course! I’ll make sure to pack some cookies for you too.”

When Felix told her last Monday that Adrien came to Rosemary looking for her, She’d been understandably distraught. Dupont had been given strict instructions to keep her new school’s name a secret, yet her old classmates were still coming to talk to her. It left many questions that needed to be answered. For example, how did they find out? Did Bustier tell them? Felix had mentioned that a girl was the one to give Adrien the information, though that hardly narrowed down the suspect list. Was Adrien the only one who knew? If not, were her other classmates going to try to come for her too? She’d asked her mother about it as soon as she got home, and as expected, Sabine flew into a rage.

“I send my daughter to a new school to get her away from her old classmates, and what do they do? They follow her there!” She’d fumed. “Unbelievable.”

Once Marinette talked her down from calling the police to file for harassment, they called the school, and Mme Bustier insisted that they’d been tight lipped about Marinette’s new school, but Marinette didn't buy it. Who else could have told Adrien? No one knew about her attending Rosemary, not unless Nathalie managed to find the information, and that was highly unlikely.

Although the situation was a mix of frustrating and worrisome, Marinette took comfort in the fact that Adrien seemed to believe she wasn't actually attending Rosemary. At the very least, he hadn’t stopped by again- as far as she knew -and hadn’t visited the bakery again either.

A small sigh passed her lips at the thought of how close she'd come to exposing herself as a Rosemary student. Thank goodness Felix had been out there to greet Adrien instead. His quick thinking had really saved her, and he even offered to give her a ride home afterwards. (For the second time) She never intended on asking Felix for help with things like this- mostly because she didn't want to bother him -but it was good to know she could depend on him when she needed to. Not only did he help her with Adrien, she also noticed him trying to keep others around her during the day after everything blew over. Allegra would order lunch with her more. Claude would join her to go to the lockers more. Allan would walk her to classes that they didn't have together. Things like that. Felix even offered to accompany her himself on a few occasions. It was a sweet gesture, and although the extra attention wasn’t necessary, it was greatly appreciated. Maybe she should make him a little thank you gift. What sort of things does he like again? Books and chess.. and silence.. how could she make a gift out of that?

Either way, Marinette couldn't thank him enough for his kindness, and now that six days of blessed silence has passed, the nervousness from the Adrien encounter was replaced with giddy enthusiasm for the aquarium. She buzzed around her bedroom to finish getting ready, putting on her scarf and earmuffs as quickly as she could. Allegra was supposed to come pick her up, but they were all going to meet up and walk into Aquarium de Paris together. She didn’t want to hold anyone up.

Marinette wrapped her purse around her shoulder, finally finishing her outfit, and bounced over to the trapdoor to go downstairs. Allegra should be arriving in about five minutes. That gave her just enough time to snag a few cookies for Tikki, a croissant for herself (and maybe Claude), and say goodbye to her parents.

“Goodmorning, sweetheart!” Sabine greeted warmly.

“Morning, Maman!” Marinette smiled, briefly pausing to let her mother kiss her on the forehead.

“Did you have a good sleep?” Tom asked, holding out an arm to her.

Marinette let out a nervous chuckle as she gave him a side hug. “Yes and no. I was kind of too excited to sleep.”

“You and me both.”

Marinette turned to one of the small tables in the bakery to see Allegra sitting with a smile and a cup of coffee. She was bundled up too, which told Marinette that she was probably right to put on her winter clothes.

“You’re already here?” Marinette asked, panic briefly seizing her chest. She looked around for the time. “How long have you been waiting? Am I late again?”

Allegra chuckled and stood up to pull Marinette into a hug. “Not at all! I just happened to get here a few minutes early, and your parents offered me a coffee while we waited for you to come down.”

Marinette relaxed a bit and hugged Allegra back. “You could have come upstairs to get me.”

“I didn’t want to rush you.” Allegra shrugged. “Besides, your parents are fun to talk with!”

Tom and Sabine both smiled and straightened with pride, causing Marinette to giggle.

“Here,” Tom said, taking a brown, paper bag out from under the counter. “We packed some breakfast for you.”

“And made sure to put plenty of croissants in for Claude and the others.” Sabine added with a smile.

Marinette took the bag with a sincere “thanks”. That saved her time on sneaking around for snacks.

“Oh, Claude is going to love those.” Allegra smirked, touching the bag to feel how warm it was.

Marinette giggled and nodded in agreement. It’s been almost three weeks since she started at Rosemary, and Claude still asks for croissants every lunch period. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yep! My driver’s waiting out front for us.” Allegra replied, tilting her head in the direction of the door.

“Have fun, you guys!” Sabine cooed.

“Make sure to take plenty of pictures with the fish!” Tom added with a wave.

“We definitely will.” Allegra beamed, looping her arm with Marinette’s.

With a final wave, they stepped outside together, and Marinette sharply inhaled as the chill of the air immediately gnawed at her features. She knew it was going to be cold, but she didn’t think it would be this cold.

I hope Felix didn’t decide to get there early today. Marinette thought to herself as they scrambled into the backseat of the car.

“So are you excited?” She asked Allegra while buckling in. Claude had been bouncing around the school walls all week for this trip, but Allegra hadn’t said much about it. Neither had Allan. Of course, they didn’t have to be excited. Marinette was just curious as to whether they were or why they weren’t.

“Absolutely!” Allegra grinned, bringing a smile to Marinette’s lips as well. Guess people show their excitement in different ways.

“Probably not as excited as Claude, though.” The blonde continued, a humorous expression crossing her features. “How many fish did he text on the group chat again?”

Marinette squinted slightly as she thought about it. “I think.. Twenty seven? Maybe twenty eight.”

“Twenty eight sounds about right.” Allegra said with a nod. “I swear Allan was this close to blocking him.”

Marinette laughed. “That knife meme was hilarious! I still can’t believe that Felix was the one who sent it. I was starting to think he didn’t read the group chat.”

“Yeah, he surprises us every now and then.” Allegra mused, a fond smile coming to her lips. “Like this aquarium trip. I don’t think he’s ever once agreed to go somewhere with us after the first invite.”

Marinette shrugged and settled into her seat as the driver pulled out onto the road. “Well, he did say that you were going to force him either way.”

Allegra’s smile turned devilish. “And he’s absolutely right. If he had said no to coming, I would have dragged him there myself, but that’s never stopped him before.”

Marinette tilted her head in a nod. That was certainly true.

“Maybe he just likes aquariums?”

Allegra hummed, a mischievous glint in her sky blue eyes as she said, “Or maybe he likes someone who’s going to the aquarium.”

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. Like as in like like? Like a crush? Felix didn’t seem like the type to have a crush on someone, though after hearing him talk about the lovers in his classical playlist, she supposed it was a possibility.

“Is there someone else you guys know that might be there?”

A short laugh burst from Allegra’s lips, almost like Marinette had missed the point of something, and she shook her head. “No, nevermind. Forget I said anything. Let’s just enjoy our agreeable Felix while we have him.”

Marinette nodded, though her thoughts still lingered on the comment. Felix developing romantic feelings for someone sounded like such a foreign concept to her. Not that he was unlovable, or anything. He was just.. too logical. He didn’t dote on feelings. The only circumstance where she can clearly see him acquiring a spouse would be an arranged marriage. He’d probably be the one to plan it, too, seeing it as the most beneficial choice between both families. What type of wife would he pick, anyway? She’d probably be beautiful and quiet, right? Not to mention smart. Felix wouldn’t be able to stand someone ‘incompetent’. Maybe she’d be a bit of a perfectionist like him?

A soft hum passed her lips. It was definitely a thought.

~~~~~~

Felix grit his teeth as the biting chill of the morning seeped into his clothing. It was times like this that he wished those jokes about the incredible inaccuracy of weathermen were true. He hasn’t even been outside for ten minutes, and his fingers were already numb. If Felix had known that his coat and gloves would be this ineffective, he would have taken the second coat that his mother tried to insist he wear earlier.

A shiver ran up his spine as a particularly cold burst of wind whipped past him, and he pulled his coat tighter around his waist. What time was it? Were the girls going to be arriving soon?

He flicked his wrist upwards to catch sight of his watch. Allegra said that they would be meeting at Aquarium de Paris at 10am. Being 9:58am., they should be arriving any minute, but that didn’t stop him from heaving a deep sigh towards the wait. Note to self: Don’t arrive early to activities that take place outside during the winter.

A nudge to the arm brought Felix’s attention to Claude. He’d also arrived early- probably out of sheer excitement. He’s been blabbering about this trip all week -but the cold didn’t appear to affect him nearly as much.

“Are you nervous?” The brunette asked, causing Felix to shoot him a flat look.

“Why on earth would I be nervous?”

“Oh, no reason..” Claude said, his tone light and teasing. “I just know that Marinette’s going to be here.”

Felix rose a brow. “And?”

Claude smiled knowingly, but Felix couldn’t imagine what the brunette thought he knew this time.

“You two have gotten pretty close lately.”

“In what way?” There was the physical way or the mental way. Granted, both ways were incorrect, but it was an important distinction.

“Well, you talk to each other all the time.” Claude answered, as though that should be some monumental fact.

Ah. So it’s the mental way.

“That’s usually what happens when two people are in the same friend group.” Felix responded. “They talk.”

“Yeah, but what about the library?” Claude argued. Why did he feel the need to argue? “You two were practically touching noses, and no one else was there besides me.”

Felix furrowed his eyebrows. “Yesterday? When we were sharing headphones?”

Claude nodded, a Cheshire grin crossing his features. Why did he look triumphant? No one had won anything. “Yep. That’s the one I’m talking about.”

“Do you share headphones differently?”

“Well, no..” Claude half-shrugged. “But you guys are still pretty close, don’t you think?”

Felix paused. The label of being close to Marinette wasn’t a bad one, save for the fact that it was completely untrue. In light of a physical closeness, the only moments that they were close would be times when Marinette fell on top of him or yesterday, when they shared headphones in the library, and the latter scenario is being taken entirely out of context. They don’t walk around holding hands or hugging or sitting shoulder to shoulder next to each other, and in all honesty, Felix wouldn’t want to. He doesn’t enjoy constantly touching people. And as for the mental closeness, Marinette hasn’t told him anything that she hasn’t told anyone else. Felix knows a lot about her, yes, but almost everything he knows has been found out secretly, through silent observations. He would hardly call that “close”.

“No, I don’t think so,” he finally answered, “but I’m still confused as to why that would make me nervous.”

Claude pursed his lips, studying him for a moment, then sighed and crossed his arms. “Oh, nevermind. Either you’re in denial or you’ll figure it out eventually.”

A hint of frustration started to stir in Felix’s mind. Figure out what?

Before he could ask anything else, another voice cut into their conversation.

“Oh, there you guys are!”

It was Allan, and when Felix looked up, he noticed that Marinette and Allegra were accompanying him as well. Wonderful. He’d somewhat forgotten about the cold during Claude’s maniac ramblings, but now that his focus had shifted, the weather was hitting him full force again. He needed to escape inside before his feet were frozen to the sidewalk.

Claude perked up and waved to the three as he ran over to them. “Hey guys! What took you so long?”

Felix hobbled over to them as well, catching sight of Marinette’s sheepish smile as she said, “Sorry, Claude. We got here as fast as we could.”

Claude, of course, waved off the apology. “Nah, I’m just kidding. We weren’t waiting that long.”

The brunette scooped Marinette into a hug, coaxing out a laugh from her. She was so bundled up with coats and scarfs and gloves that Claude had to squish her between his arms to hold her, and it vaguely reminded Felix of a marshmallow.

In weather like this, though, being a marshmallow didn’t sound half bad.

Claude blew out a contented sigh as he nuzzled his face into Marinette’s shoulder. “Man, Mari, you’re so warm! I need to start using you as my personal heater.”

Marinette chuckled and pulled back just enough to hold up a brown, paper bag. “Thanks, but I think it’s just the food Maman sent with me.”

A gasp flew from Claude, and he immediately set her back on the ground. “Food, you say? As in, croissants food??”

“Yes, Claude.” Marinette giggled. “Croissants food. Maman packed a few extras especially for you.”

Claude literally let out a girlish squeal and made “grabby hands” for the bag. Marinette gladly obliged, letting him dig through it for his favorites.

“Your mom is the absolute best.” Claude said, his voice muffled from the chocolate croissant he bit into. “Please adopt me.”

The group shared a small laugh, but Felix rolled his eyes. Claude was always overdramatic.

“You better not let Aunt Felicity hear you say that.” Allegra spoke up. She was also bundled to the max- though her coat was light purple -and looked about ten times warmer than Felix felt. “Remember the last time you asked Allan to adopt you?”

Claude scoffed. “That was different! This time I want to be adopted because of Mme Sabine’s cooking, not because of how many games Marinette has.”

“Oh, yeah.” Allan snorted. “That’s completely different.”

“Hey, mom will understand.” Claude insisted, placing his hands on his hips. “She knows she can’t cook anything to save her life. That’s why we have a personal chef.”

“Wait, are you two cousins?” Marinette cut in, confusion flicking across her features.

A slight frown came to Allegra’s lips. “No, why do you ask?”

“You called his mom ‘Aunt Felicity’.”

“Oh!” The blonde’s face lit up with understanding. “Yeah, we do that. Claude’s parents are Aunt Felicity and Uncle Albert, and Allan’s parents are Aunt Meridith and Uncle Theodore.”

Allan nodded in agreement. “I think it started back in middle school when Claude accidentally called M. Chanson ‘Uncle Arthur’ while taking some snacks.”

Allegra snorted. “Oh, yeah, that was definitely the start of it. Dad wouldn’t stop talking about it for days. He thought it was the best.”

Claude sighed, running a hand through his hair with a bashful smile. “That was totally embarrassing, but at least he liked it.”

“Can we all go inside?” Felix interjected. Talking about how they address the adults is nice and all, but his arms and legs have been burning from the cold for the last five minutes. Can’t they continue this conversation when they’re not standing in below-thirty-degree weather?

Claude laughed, throwing Felix a teasing smirk. “Aw, poor Fe. Are you cold?”

Felix scowled at his babying tone. “Of course I’m cold! Frost is slowly growing on our hoods as we speak!”

“Well, I’m not cold.” The brunette replied, swinging his arm around Marinette’s shoulder. “Because I’ve had some of Marinette’s delicious croissants to keep me warm.”

Felix scoffed and tugged his coat tighter around himself. Eating warm croissants certainly didn’t help him.

“They are pretty warm.” Allan said next to him. “You should try one.”

“He doesn’t have to.” Marinette, being the kind person she is, hastily jumped in. “We were planning on going inside, anyway, right?”

“Yeah, but I think Felix needs to taste one.” Allegra remarked. “It’s simply shameful of him to refuse them for this long, in my opinion.”

“I don’t like sweets.” Felix pointed out in annoyance. Just start moving towards the aquarium.

“Well..” Marinette faltered. “Maman did pack a regular croissant and a cheesy croissant..”

He held back a sigh. Though her intentions surely weren’t foul, his only ally had officially condemned him. It’s not that he cared to try one of Marinette’s croissants. After eating supper with Marinette’s parents last week, he had no doubt that anything they made was delicious. No, the problem came with the fact that he was being pushed to eat them. (The group wasn’t quite pushing yet, but he’d learned to pinpoint the signs of oncoming pressure.) If Felix says no, despite how unreasonable it might be, he expects that answers to be respected. The same way he would respect anyone else who told him no about something.

“See, there you go!” Claude smiled. “A nice, warm, non-sweet croissant to make you forget about the January weather.”

“I’d forget it just as easily if we walked inside.” Felix bit back.

“Oh, come on, Felix.” Allegra scolded. “Live a little! You don’t have to eat the whole thing, just one bite!”

“Guys, he really doesn’t have to eat it.” Marinette spoke up again. Felix silently thanked her for her efforts, but her previous comment made any resistance futile now.

“Oh, he’s eating it.” Claude stated. “He needs to know the pure bliss that is Mme Sabine’s croissants.”

“Plus, we’re not going inside until he tries it.” Allegra added.

Allan snorted. “Felix.. I think they want you to try the croissant.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed to a glare. “I’ll walk inside without you.”

“No, you won’t.” Allegra shot back. “You know why you won’t? Because you actually don’t mind trying the croissants. You’re just upset that we told you to try them.”

Felix was thankful for his pockets, because it hid the way his hands clenched into his fists. He absolutely hated when Allegra saw through his intentions. It made him feel transparent, vulnerable. Not to mention embarrassed. Was he that horrible at hiding his emotions or could he simply not match her level of observation? It was probably the former and that ticked him off the most.

“Just give me the dang croissant.” He finally bit off, jutting his hand out to Marinette. If he stared solely at her, he wouldn’t have to see Claude or Allegra’s victorious, blood-boiling grins.

Marinette flinched at the sudden movement and knitted her eyebrows, concerned. “A-Are you sure-”

“Positive.” Felix ground out, hoping she didn’t take it personally. Just give me the food so we can get this over with.

Although wary, Marinette handed over one of the croissants. The specks of yellow around the edges told him it was the cheese-flavored one.

With a deep breath to regain some composure, Felix took a bite of the breaded treat, and..

And it was incredible.

The croissant was piping hot, immediately stealing away the bitter coldness of the air as Claude had claimed. The cheese inside was stringy and practically melted in his mouth, and the softness of the bread allowed you to enjoy every bit of the doughy taste.

It took everything Felix had to keep a neutral expression. If they saw how much he enjoyed the food, they would never let him live it down. He’d be trying everything else under the sun merely because the trio was right one time.

“Well?” Allegra pressed. “How does it taste?”

“.. They are delicious.” He admitted, if only for Marinette’s sake. Downplaying Mme Sabine’s baking skills would only allow him to keep a small bit of his useless pride. He might as well be honest.

A smile slipped onto Marinette’s lips, but Claude’s triumphant laugh took away any satisfaction Felix might have gotten from it.

“I knew you would like them!” The brunette cheered. “Anyway, let’s go inside. It’s freezing out here!”

Felix scoffed, throwing a sharp glare at Claude. If it weren’t for how good this croissant was, he would have thrown it at him.

“Yeah, I think they’re open now.” Allan agreed as he checked his watch.

Curious, Felix checked his watch too. 10:10am.

“Oh! Race you guys there!” Claude abruptly announced, before breaking into a sprint.

Allan chuckled and humored the brunette by going into a jog, and Allegra picked up the pace as well. Felix, however, elected to keep walking as he munched on the croissant. The heat radiating off of it was enough to stall the looming chill around him anyway.

“So..” Marinette began, drawing Felix’s gaze down to her. She’d apparently decided to walk with him instead of running after Claude.

For some reason, that gave Felix a sense of accomplishment.

“Did you really like the croissants?” She asked, her hands fidgeting with the paper bag.

Felix nodded, taking another bite of the croissant as ‘proof’. “Claude wasn’t joking when he said that she made them fluffier than the clouds. I’ll have to buy them for Mother sometime.”

A small smile graced her lips. “I’m glad you like them.”

Felix offered a small smile in return. “Yes, me too.”

After Agreste’s visit earlier in the week, Marinette had been rather stressed. He noticed her looking over her shoulder often, checking windows before exiting buildings, spacing out during classes.. It was obvious that the encounter had unnerved her.

He tried to ease her mind by rallying the trio to help. They recognized her sudden anxiety as well, and although Felix couldn’t tell them the exact reason, he hinted at it possibly being the usual nervousness of their first round of tests that was coming up. This caused them to swarm Marinette for study dates and extra lunches, asking questions about different subjects while they walked her to her locker or to her classes. When this strategy failed- which wasn’t often -Felix would also offer to accompany her.

If she suspected his involvement in the extra attention, she didn’t show it, but she did relax after a few days of the special treatment. Felix took that as a success.

Marinette and Felix caught up with the rest of the group a few seconds later, and they all entered the aquarium together. Another shiver ran over Felix as they walked inside, the warmth of the building washing over him. He would have smiled with relief had it not been for the amount of people pushing against them. Despite the aquarium opening a little less than twenty minutes ago, people of all ages were already piling inside. Adults, teenagers, kids.. Felix supposed this was the price they paid for visiting on a Sunday.

“Everyone stay together!” Allegra instructed over the noise. She grabbed onto Felix’s wrist and Allan’s hand for emphasis. “We don’t want to get separated before we even pay for our tickets.”

Although it irked him for Allegra to be latching onto his wrist, Felix didn’t argue. Past experiences with the trio have made him well aware of how easy it was to get separated in a rushing crowd like this.

They weaved through the giddy schoolgirls and the tired parents until they found a steady line for the ticket both. There, they talked about which attractions to see first and which ones to save for later.

“I think we should just walk through.” Claude said, unsurprisingly. He was never one for order. “It’ll be easier if we just go.”

“But if we don’t have a plan, we’ll never get through it all.” Allegra pointed out. “It doesn’t have to be strict. We just need a vague goal to work towards.”

“We could start with the jellyfish?” Marinette suggested. “Those are always cool.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Allan agreed. “Then we could start working our way around to the shark tank. I say we save it for last since it’s the main reason we came.”

Claude let out a small whine. “Aw, what? Why would we wait till the end to see it if it’s the reason we came?”

“Come on, Claude, you know how the saying goes.” Allegra commented, flicking Claude on the shoulder. “Save the best for last.”

Claude grabbed his shoulder, even though the flick hardly hurt. “I never understood that expression.”

Allegra rolled her eyes with a smile and turned back to the group. “Are we all in agreement then? Start with the jellyfish and move to the sharks?”

“Works for me.” Allan shrugged.

“I don’t have a preference.” Felix stated, not that his opinion would matter much to anyone but Marinette.

With a (somewhat) solid plan, the group purchased their tickets and merged with the flow of the people to get to the main part of the aquarium. The first item on the list, aside from seeing Jellyfish, was to find lockers or another place to put their winter coats and gloves. Felix didn’t fancy the cold, but melting in a packed building also wasn’t preferable.

Allegra still held onto his wrist as they searched, but that didn’t stop the people around them from shoving and prodding to get through first. Felix jostled about, a scowl quickly forming on his lips after getting hit for the fifth time. How can it be so rowdy during the thirty minutes? Goodness knows what’s going to happen when more people start arriving! Why did he even agree to come here?

A gasp cut through the white noise of the crowd, and Claude called out Marinette’s name as she rushed forward.

She stopped in front of the jellyfish tank they came upon and pressed her gloved hands to the glass, smile bright and eyes sparkling with awe. The jellyfish circled in the water with the current, glowing blue and purple and pink under the aquarium lights.

A laugh of pure delight escaped Marinette, and she glanced over her shoulder at them. “Do you see how many there are? This is so neat!”

The sheer giddiness of her voice caused another smile to crawl onto Felix’s lips. Ah, yes. He remembered why he quickly relented to the aquarium visit. It was the first time Marinette had personally invited him to something, and he didn’t want to upset her if he fought against the activities as he usually did. After all, what thanks would that be to someone who constantly tries to keep him comfortable and respect his boundaries?

“Yeah, they look amazing!” Allegra grinned, tugging Felix and Allan forward to follow the ravenette.

Felix followed with a slight glare. He knew that holding onto each other was for the best, but-

Another person slammed into his shoulder, and Felix full on growled at them as they walked off like nothing happened.

-but perhaps the next time he feels the need to repay Marinette’s kindness, he should simply send a ‘thank you’ letter instead.

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#felinette #Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids #New Girl on the Block #Rosemary AU #Marinette

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chibinekochan · 3 years

Text

How to become a Demon Ruler 206

Part: 00 I 01 I 02 I 03 I 04 I 05 I

Gender Neutral Reader insert

taglist: @ayesha95 ; @nomnomcupcakesworld ; @fex-phoenix ; @depressed-bixch ; @kitsune-oji ; @witch-o-memes ; @gallantys ,@tanspostsblog ; @undertaker-02 ,

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The class ends uneventfully and it's now time for lunch. I study my plan and see I have magical training next after this.

I sigh deeply. How am I supposed to survive a class like this?

"Not having anything they like on the menu?" Beel sounds concerned.

"No, I was just thinking about my next class. It's magical training." I frown.

"Ah I see, I have that class too. It's not always easy to keep control." Beel wants to make me feel better, it seems.

I appreciate his help. "It's just that I don't think that I'm capable of doing any magic at all."

"No way. Everyone has a bit of magic inside of them. You just need to train to get access to the power within." Levi shakes his head.

"This isn't a shonen anime Levi." Mammon already has a tray of food with him. Making Beel drool.

"He isn't wrong though. It's just a matter of training." Satan also chimes in from the side. Then he leans closer towards me. "Besides we all know about that pact of yours so even if you hadn't any magic now you do."

I'm not surprised they all know. It's probably to keep me safe from others.

"I don't know how to access that either," I whisper back at Satan.

"We will figure it out. I mean it's nothing to frown about and ruin your pretty face." Asmo just arrived and seems to indicate they will be supporting me.

"That's very nice of you. I just can't fail a class you know." I sigh.

"Too much pressure in my opinion. We also need to hurry before Beel eats everything." Belphie points at the huge pile on Beel’s tray.

"You are right, nobody can think with an empty stomach." Satan agrees and so you are all lining up to get food.

I have no idea what to choose from.

"You should try the buffo steak." Levi points to it.

"No, try the seven sin salad. It's very healthy and filling." Asmo objects.

"I'm just going for the soup today. I'm too tired for anything else." Belphie yawns.

"Just take the golden shrimps. I mean, look how much they sparkle." Mammon chimes in.

I have no idea why he is even here since he has food already.

"Just take a bit of everything," Beel says with a full mouth.

I shake my head. "I see everything is tasty. I will go for this dish, please." I order with a smile the item that looks the best.

"Ohhh, great choice. It even comes with a dessert." Beel is still chewing.

Everyone else just moves on to their own choices.

Once I'm done I'm looking for an open table. When my eyes meet Mammon's, he waves me over. "Hey, come sit here."

I awkwardly make my way through the tables.

"They aren't a dog you know." Levi giggles.

"I hope I'm not a burden on you." I sit down beside Mammon. "I won't say anything to Diavolo if you aren't including me." I don't want to be a bother to them.

"Nonsense." Belphie shakes his head.

"Yeah, like Lucifer can order us to do exactly what he wants." Satan sneers.

"I would never eat with anyone who I'm not interested in." Asmo winks at me when he sits down next to me.

"You better be grateful to the great Mammon." Mammon boasts.

I can hardly stop myself from laughing.

"Don't say that Mammon. We just hope to become friends with you." Beel smiles in between bites.

I smile at them.

"Now that is more like it." Asmo grins and we all eat together.

I feel very welcome by them, it's nice, even when they are all a bit strange.

After being full I'm on my way to my next class.

I see a group of students around a white-haired guy. He somehow catches my eye, maybe it's because he somehow stands out between the demons.

He meets my eye and gives me a short smile.

"Hey Solomon, I thought you were going to miss the first day." Satan knows the guy.

"I made it somehow. You must be the other human exchange student." Solomon seems friendly but I somehow feel on guard around him.

"Nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking how do you know Satan?" It seems a bit strange to me.

"That's because I have a pact with him," Solomon answers very nonchalantly.

My eyes go wide. "Wow, you have a pact with a pretty powerful demon." I'm quite curious to know how this even happened.

Solomon chuckles. "To be exact, I have pacts with 72 demons."

"72? That's a huge number. Are you collecting pacts or something?" It seems like a ridiculous amount.

Satan laughs at this. "You could say that. He got pacts with Levi and Asmo too."

"What can I say? I might just like making pacts." Solomon shrugs like it's no big deal. Then he looks at me again, like he is now truly seeing me for the first time. "You seem to be a pretty unique one yourself. I mean it's not been that long and you have a pact of your own. I might have some competition at this point." He seems to be able to sense my pact.

I wonder if he knows who I made my pact with? I almost shiver from that thought.

"What can I say, I adapt fast." I try to be nonchalant about it but I'm unsure if it works on him.

"Oh, I don't know much about how humans access their magic, you might be able to help them." Satan has thought about this, it seems. Which is honestly pretty nice of him.

Solomon thinks for a moment. "It's been a while since I learned how to use magic but it's different for everyone. It's like pulling energy from the elements around you. Since you have a pact you can also draw power from that. You can do that by recalling how you felt when that magic force entered your body. I can give you some pointers later. I'm staying at Purgatory hall by the way." He seems to want to help me out.

"I will try that. It's just kinda hard. I tried to feel my power but got nothing." I sigh.

"That's normal with beginners. You are probably best off trying to feel magic power from another strong force. Like a fire or a waterfall. Maybe even a strong demon." Solomon smiles calmly.

"You might want to exchange numbers to make it easier for everyone." Satan's suggestion is really good.

"That's a great idea." I exchange information with Solomon. I have questions for him, even when he seems a bit shady.

"You are awfully eager to help the new student Satan. Are you into them?" Solomon grins suggestively at Satan.

"Do I look like Asmo to you? They gave me a very nice present. I'm simply returning the favor." Satan denies it, but not very strongly.

"A present? That's interesting." Solomon looks at me with glee. "That's certainly one way to gain favors for pacts."

The class bell saves me from the rest of this conversation.

The magic class is very hard for me. I can't do a single thing. Even when it's very easy.

Solomon aces every task and Satan just seems to be there to assist the teacher.

I wonder why Solomon is even here, to be honest. He is clearly not very frustrated. I want to manage just one spell. Then I recall Solomon's advice.

The memory of my pact with Diavolo is still fresh. I recall the warmth that his energy left within me. The sensation on my back. I start to feel the warmth from my back. It seems to work.

I calm my excitement and focus on that feeling. It seems to be spreading. I feel warmer, I try to imagine the energy going into my arms and hands. It's like a river in front of my inner eye. Warm and red flowing through me.

I close my eyes, getting lost in the feeling. It's flooding me slowly.

Then someone yells out in fear. My concentration breaks and I open my eyes.

In horror, I see flames in front of me. I set a table on fire.

Behind me, I hear Solomon laughing.

"Omg! I didn't mean for this to happen!" I panic and frantically look for a fire extinguisher.

"It's alright, I can handle this." The teacher steps in and the fire dies down. "Are you alright?" He seems worried.

"Y-Yeah." Other than shaking from the shock, I'm fine.

"I think they should be set free from the rest of the class. I will bring them outside for some fresh air." Satan sees me shaking.

The teacher nods.

We go to a bench outside and we sit down.

"That was quite something. Usually, it takes until lesson six to set something on fire." Satan chuckles lightly.

"Not helpful." I sigh and look at my own hands. I never thought I could summon such powers. It's kind of scary.

"You don't need to beat yourself up. Diavolo is extremely powerful so it's no wonder that by tapping into his powers you cause such destruction. To be honest it could have been way worse. It's awesome that you could do it on the first try so all you need is some practice." Satan tries to cheer me up and I'm grateful for that.

"I hope you are right. It was so scary. I didn't even realize what I did." I wonder if I will be able to control it next time.

"Maybe just imagine water next time? Oh, wait then you're probably gonna flood us all like Levi." Satan chuckles.

"Levi floods stuff?" This sorta surprises me.

"Yeah, he always summons Lothan when he is very upset and then the whole building gets wet." Satan sighs.

I have a hard time imagining it. "Seems pretty reckless."

Satan shrugs. "Living with demons is just like this. When I get very angry I destroy stuff all the time too. It's hard to control my anger in my demon form. We all might seem cool and powerful but our sins are also a weakness." Satan smiles ruefully.

I nod. "I see, thank you for sharing that with me." Somehow it helps to know that they also screw up.

"Just be prepared for the lecture from Lucifer if you get into trouble. Well, maybe in your case it will be Diavolo scolding you. No, wait, that's too hard to imagine. Who is doing the punishment in your home?" Satan seems genuinely curious.

"I haven't gotten in trouble yet, but I somehow feel it's Barbatos." He is at least punishing Diavolo, it seems.

"I can see that. I wonder what he will do in that case." Satan seems to imagine a few things.

"Who knows, but I certainly don't want to find out." I giggle slightly.

Satan nods and we sit for a while on the bench.

It's nice of him to keep me company.

School is probably pretty good after all.

I feel like I made a few friends and I guess it can only get better from here on out.

#obey me #omswd #demon ruler 201 #how to become a demon ruler #obey me fanfic #om!

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backtothestart02 · 3 years

Text

The Football Star and the New Girl - 1/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: I suck at titles lately...oh well. Enjoy this first chap! The story itself is based loosely on a dream I had. :)

...

Synopsis: HS!AU - They were like ships passing in the night. Would they ever meet on the same page?

...

Chapter 1 -

Francine West walked down the hall and peeked into the open doorway of her daughter’s bedroom. She found her sitting on her bed, her things packed in multiple suitcases at her feet, but she herself – Iris West, 14 ¾ years old – did not look very excited to be leaving her home without her family. She was looking at a photo album. Tears were staining her cheeks.

Francine rested her head against the door frame as she watched her, her heart aching to heal the wounds she knew would only grow more with time.

“It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.”

Iris’ head whipped toward the sound, and she hastily shut the photo album and tossed it onto her bed, wiping her cheeks quickly after.

“Mom!”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t interrupting, was I?”

She walked into the room, and Iris scooted over a little so she could sit next to her on the bed.

“No, not at all. I’m glad you’re here.”

They shared a sweet look, then Iris leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. Francine held out her hand, and Iris intertwined her fingers in her mother’s grip.

“I still want to go,” she assured her.

“Yeah?”

She nodded against her shoulder.

“I need stability, mom. I can’t be moving around going from school to school every six months. I’m proud of dad, of course, and I love being with you all. I’ll miss you a lot, but…I want friends and the same school and a life.”

“A boyfriend?” Francine nudged her gently.

Iris rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Maybe…eventually. I’m only 14, Mom.”

Francine nudged her again.

“14 ¾.”

Iris laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. A boyfriend would be nice, once I get to know the guy for more than a couple months. But first, friends.”

“Friends are important too.”

Iris nestled into her mother’s embrace and sat in silence for a while.

“What about Wally? Is he going to be going to new schools every-”

“I’ve decided to attempt homeschooling.”

Iris lifted her head.

“You have?”

She nodded.

“He’s only 10, so the curriculum is simpler, and he’s pretty introverted, even around us, so Ruffly can suffice for his friend. At least for now.”

Francine pursed her lips. She did want real, live human friends for her son, as well as for her daughter. But for now their golden retriever seemed to be what got the most laughs out of young Wally West. She would hope that lasted at least through another school year.

“I’d take him with me if I could,” Iris said.

“You’d take both my children from me?” Francine asked, only half joking. “What am I supposed to do all day long without your brother to drive me crazy?”

Iris looked into her mother’s eyes and saw that they were watering.

“Oh, Mom, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay, honey.”

She sighed and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s temple.

“I know it hasn’t been easy for you, losing your friends so often because we have to move. It’s the life of a military family, I’m afraid. I signed up for it when I agreed to marry the man, but you, my baby, were just born into it.”

She pulled back to look into her eyes.

“I want you to know though that if at any time the school isn’t working out for you, we’ll come get you in a heartbeat.”

Iris winced. She knew it wasn’t that simple. They were moving overseas to a new post. Iris would be staying here in the U.S. Even if the school was a bit of a move for her too. It wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to.

Still, she obliged her.

“Yeah, okay, mom.”

She smiled, but Francine knew better.

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, and interrupting their little moment came Joe West with little Wally West on his back. Joe was dressed in all camouflage wear, and Wally was giggling from bouncing up and down on his “horsie”. Ruffly was close at Joe’s heels.

“What is this here?” Joe asked, witnessing the tear streaks on his two ladies’ faces.

“Dad!” Iris sprung up.

She ran to him, and he slowly released Wally off his back, who promptly complained when his shoeless feet hit the floor.

Joe hugged his daughter tight, lifting her off her feet briefly and kissing the side of her face.

“Oh, baby girl, are you sure you want to go?”

Iris laughed when she was back on her feet again. She wiped away fresh tears.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just gonna miss you guys, but I need this. For me. Okay?”

He sighed and nodded, then looked across the room at his wife.

“She’s so grown-up.”

“I know.” Francine sniffled.

“Why is everyone crying in here?” Wally asked. “Aren’t we gonna see her for Christmas?”

Everyone laughed.

“Aren’t you gonna miss me at all, you little punk?” Iris asked, ruffling his curly hair.

“Eh, maybe a little.” He shrugged, uncaringly.

Iris rolled her eyes.

“Well, it’s time to get going then, yeah?” She looked at her parents who nodded.

“Yeah,” Joe said. “That seven-hour drive is no joke.”

“Seven hours! That’s a lifetime!” Wally whined.

Ruffly barked.

“Just wait till your plane ride,” Iris egged him on. “That might be even longer.”

Wally groaned. “I hate traveling!”

“Better make sure you have something to keep you occupied with then, Walls,” Joe said, and with that Wally zipped out of Iris’ room to make sure his many bags included plenty of toys to play with on his very long journey.

“I’ll go help him,” Francine said. “We’ll meet you at the door with his things.”

“Sounds good.”

Joe smiled, but it was pained. Once Francine had left, all the toughness had melted away again, as it often did with his baby girl.

“Boy, am I gonna miss you,” he said.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Dad.” Another tear streamed down her cheek, and he was quick to wipe it away. “You look so handsome in your uniform, Dad.”

He chuckled.

“Alright, enough sadness for now. We can do this again in seven hours.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

“You wanna help me get all a million and one suitcases out to the car?”

She took a step back and looked around her room.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“You can apologize by helping me.”

“Deal.”

She smiled, and slowly they made their way to the front door and then the driveway with all seven of her suitcases. It took a few trips, but then she knew she would need every bit of her belongings for the long school years that lay ahead.

Her family would visit as often as they could, of course, but it would be difficult with them living overseas. She probably wouldn’t see them again until her dad was forced to move again like they were doing now.

But she’d thought long and hard this. She longed for friendships that lasted, for a life beyond what was available to a military family. She needed to connect and to be free for a while, even at the sacrifice of not seeing her family every day, especially her mom and baby brother. This new school – Huntington Farm and Boarding School – would be just the ticket.

Out in the middle of nowhere somewhere down south, the school was on a huge stretch of lush land that also served as a farm – no animals, just crops, which was a shame, Iris thought. She’d miss having even just her dog around too.

But the place was renowned for its academics and social scene there in the middle of the wilderness. A boarding school for those who needed it, traveling families mostly; and if the colorful flyer they’d sent in the mail was any indication, Iris would absolutely love it.

“Everybody ready?” Joe asked, when everyone had piled into the car sometime later.

“Ready!” the family cheered.

Joe chuckled and started the car.

“Huntington Farm and Boarding School, here we come. Watch out for your most dazzling student yet.”

He met Iris’ eyes in the rearview mirror, and they sparkled.

“You know it!” Iris said.

Joe grinned and backed out of the driveway.

They were all on their way to bigger adventures now.

…

One year later…

Iris sat on top of the fence on the edge of the football field, waiting for who she hoped she hadn’t misinterpreted wrong. After nearly a year of first claiming he didn’t like her and then months of mixed signals, Iris was convinced he actually did like her, as much as she liked him.

Sitting on the fence post waiting for the guy to come kiss her seemed like an odd tradition, but it was built into the social aspect of the school, and she figured it was the only guaranteed way she’d know if he was really crushing or not.

She’d dressed as cute as she could for a game, and soon she’d know if it would pay off or not.

Biting her bottom lip, she gasped quietly when she saw him coming around the corner heading right towards where she had herself perched.

Barry Allen was the star football player – star of every sport he could get himself into really – and they’d been making genuine eyes at each other for weeks. Now, as he approached her, it felt as if their whole future was hanging in the balance.

He stopped about 20 feet away. Bracing himself maybe for the decision he’d have to make? Presumably have gained the courage, he continued his walk, headed straight for her and stopped directly in front of her.

Iris waited, her heart hammering a mile a minute in her chest. He was tall enough to reach her – so tall, but she bent her head anyway, and sure enough their lips met in a soft, tender kiss.

She opened her eyes as he took a step back, but the smile on his face was undeniable. So was hers.

Just as he was about to say something truly romantic – she’d decided – one of his teammates burst behind them.

“Did you just kiss Iris West?”

Barry spun around, panic on his features.

“I-”

Another teammate appeared.

“Wait, what?”

“Barry just kissed Iris!”

“But I thought he hated her. He swore he did.”

Iris tensed on the top of the fence, waiting for Barry to smooth the whole thing over. It couldn’t be that big of a deal that he’d pretended to hate her all while flirting with her on the downlow for nearly a year…could it? It was annoying to her for sure, but his teammates couldn’t be that annoyed, could they?

Barry never smoothed it over.

His teammates left, looking disgusted, and Barry looked back at Iris for one more moment, not knowing what to do. Then he left, calling after them.

“Wait, guys, it’s not what it looks like!”

And Iris sat alone on top of the fence, the magical memory of her first kiss completely shattered.

How would they come back from this?

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #the football star and the new girl #chapter 1

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beyondconfessor · 4 years

Text

Principle Decisions [2/24]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: “On your knees,” she said, not unlike a school teaching asking the class to sit down in their seats.

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief.

Classes for the week had been exhausting. Every time that Zelda taught the first year undergrads, she was reminded as to why she loathed teaching them in the first place. Many of them avoided class, or worse, turned up stinking of cheap vodka and pot as they made their way to the back of the classroom with a heavy set of sunglasses––as if she didn’t know what a hungover teenager looked like. Please.

If she was going to teach, she wanted her class to be engaged. She especially preferred to have her students respond to the questions she asked rather than staring blankly back at her. Her third year students were used to her way of teaching, having completed her second year subjects, so they knew how to conduct themselves in her classroom, reminding Zelda of why she continued to teach, despite how much of a headache it gave her.

But the first years.

Zelda drew herself taught in her chair, hands curling into fists. Never again, she vowed, knowing that Faustus would somehow manage to convince her to take up the classes again next year, threatening to cut her course entirely because there was no one else available.

Well, there was Shirley. But Shirley usually taught religion and whenever her grubby hands taught the first years, Zelda was left trying to un-teach them everything they learnt.

Educating the first years herself was just the lesser of two evils, in a way.

She needed a drink.

No, she didn’t. What she wanted was a cigarette, but she’d have to leave her office for that and currently she was on open hours for any student to come meandering through her doors to beg for extra credit because they realised they were failing her course.

She looked to the clock that hung on the wall and felt the itch grow under her skin. Fuck it. She needed a smoke and there was only fifteen minutes left of her office hours.

Opening her drawer, she went to pull out her cigarette case, when she stopped at the sight of the red business card.

Lilith.

She swallowed, picking up the card.

What she needed was relief. It didn’t have to be sex, it just needed to be…something. Intimacy with another human being.

Last night she’d drained the batteries of her favoured vibrator and despite rolling through three orgasms, there was still an arousal pricking under her skin.

Before she could even come to terms with what she was doing, she’d always picked up her phone and typed in the number. If it was a student, she’d be able to cancel the line immediately––and given that her office line was private, they wouldn’t be able to call her back.

The phone line rang and suddenly an anxiety built. Was this really a good idea? To engage in the services of a dominatrix? Wouldn’t it be better to drive up to the city and just pick up some––

“Good Afternoon, how can I be of service?”

Zelda paused, feeling her mouth become dry. The voice was new, unrecognisable from anyone she recalled teaching. Or knowing at all, for that matter.

“Hello?” the woman said, an annoyance frosting over the words.

“I––“ she paused, biting her lip. “Found your business card.”

“Oh? And which business card is this?”

Zelda paused. Which business card? She supposed that although they were a twin-town, neither Riverdale nor Greendale probably held the population to frequent the services of a dominatrix. Likely the woman had a second job that paid the bills, like a graphic designer perhaps, or…

“The red card.”

“Mm. Remind me again of what the exact service of that is?” the woman asked, her voice a purr as she laughed into the receiver.

Zelda shivered, her eyes flicking to the door of her office, ensuring it was closed. “You know perfectly well.”

“I do, but I need to hear you say it.”

“And why do you need that?”

“If you really want the service, you need to be able to say the word.” There was logic to it and yet Zelda tugged at her skirt, adjusting herself in the chair. “Come on, use your big girl words and I promise to stop teasing.”

Zelda swallowed, shutting her eyes. “Dominatrix,” she said, lowering her voice in case any student was out wondering the hall.

Panic filled her once the word was spoken. She shouldn’t have done this. She should have done it in her car, or at home, or not at all. What did she need a dominatrix for? She should have just picked up new batteries, instead of even thinking about dialling this number. What if it was a student, or worse, a––

“Well you’ve called the right woman. I have an opening for tomorrow evening. Say…six o’clock?”

“Six?”

“And do be on time. I don’t approve of tardiness.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. She’d never been late in her life. “I’ll be on time,” she scoffed.

“Good girl. Now, I’ll just need a name for the booking.”

“…a name?” Of course she did. A hundred names filled her head, and yet the consequences of using any of them seemed to fill her with dread.

“Just a first name. You don’t need to worry, I promise absolute discretion.”

“Zelda,” she answered, feeling her heart beat fast. Perhaps she should have chosen a pseudonym.

“Zelda,” the woman echoed, drawing out her name on the tongue. “Do you know the address?”

“No, I do not.”

The woman, presumably Lilith, provided the address and a confirmation of the pricing for a forty-five minute session. “But given that this is your first session with me, expect that it will go for about an hour so we can run through some housekeeping.”

“And what sort of housekeeping should I expect?”

“Just a few ground rules so this is enjoyable for us both. The only one I advise before hand is that I don’t allow my customers to be intoxicated before arrival. It tends to dull things and I need you wide-awake.”

“That’s the only rule?”

“Well, I expect you to be showered before you arrived, but I assumed that was common curtsey. I do have facilities, however. In case you need to clean-up before you leave.”

Zelda felt her thighs press tighter together as her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth. They were barely discussing it and already she felt anticipation growing inside of her. “Wonderful,” she said, because a response was needed and she didn’t want the woman to know the effect she had on her already.

And yet, the woman made a humming noise, as if she was amused. “Well, I need to run off, but I look forward to meeting you tomorrow, Zelda. I can’t wait to play with you.” The receiver clicked off and Zelda looked down at the phone.

It was booked. She was booked for tomorrow.

What the fuck was she going to do?

The answer was agonise over her choice of clothes. Should she wear something formal or informal? Should she…dress up in leather and lace? Did it even matter what her choice of attire was, so as long as her lingerie was acceptable? Did that even matter? Zelda had never engaged in any sex work. She’d been to informally organised orgies, and attended a few sex parties, but this was different, and…it was exciting, if she was being honest. It’d been a long time since she’d felt butterflies fill her stomach.

All of Saturday morning, she found herself looking to the clock on the wall, checking the time and watching it tick from eight in the morning, to nine, to ten…and so on as she finished the last of her paperwork for the weekend and found herself preparing to leave by five.

“A rather late meeting,” Hilda said as Zelda drew her coat over her shoulders. “You know, if it is a date, you can tell me.”

“It’s certainly not a date,” Zelda said, ensuring that line was firm. The last thing she needed was her sister’s curiosity piqued. “I’ll be home sometime after seven.”

“Alright, well, shall I have dinner set for seven thirty then?”

“If you wish.” She gave her an appearance a last check before taking her handbag from the table. All she needed was her phone, wallet and her make-up so she could fix it up before her return to the home (and to cover any marks the woman made). “But don’t hold up for me.”

She passed Sabrina in the foyer and paused, watching as niece’s expression shifted to something neutral. “You’re going out?” Sabrina asked.

“A meeting regarding some funding, I’m afraid. I’ll be home for dinner.”

Sabrina gave a short nod, her fingers tapping at her sides as she swayed from side-to-side, seeming to hold onto a thought.

“Was there something else?” she asked, feeling a familiar tightness grow. She loathed when Sabrina danced around a topic.

“Roz and Theo are having a sleepover tomorrow. Could I stay over? Mr Walker will take us to school the next day.”

Zelda’s lips pursed, suspecting that this was likely her niece trying to dance around the fact that she was going to wander off and see Mr Kinkle. And yet, did she actually care? Zelda, herself, had snuck out at the age of sixteen. At least Sabrina wasn’t climbing out of the bedroom window and crawling down the old willow tree. “If you have your homework done by then.”

Sabrina beamed, nodding. “I will,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

Zelda waived a hand dismissively. A part of her considered gently reminding her niece to take protection, before she decided against it. Zelda had purchased a set of condoms for Sabrina once she’d begun dating Mr Kinkle (much to Sabrina’s embarrassment) and had revisited the sex talk, ensuring Sabrina understood consent and equality in sex. The last thing she ever wanted her niece to go through was shame or a selfish partner.

Sabrina knew that she could come forward if need-be. But more importantly, she had a clever head on her shoulders. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Enjoy your meeting,” Sabrina said, before wandering away, a skip in her step.

Zelda exited the house, going to where her car was and climbing in. She sat in driver’s seat, taking a minute to consider her own wants. There was a flutter in her stomach as she buckled her seat belt and placed the car into drive, driving down the gravel road of the land, down to the main road.

The address that Lilith provided her lead to the warehouse district. There was a brief concern as she pulled up her car on the empty road that she was being conned in someway. Only a lone truck passed her, seeming to make its way through the town to the highway. But at the same time, she doubted it’d be a viable business––far easier to just rob someone at the ATM.

She looked into the rear view mirror, fixing her hair before she stepped out, taking her handbag with her.

The building was a small brick building, two stories high with ivy climbing its walls. It was nestled in between what appeared to be a garage and a mattress repair store, both of which appeared to be closed. Thank God.

The lights were on upstairs of the building, and Zelda could see movement in the upper window, like someone was walking around in the room (though a curtain blocked any clear view of who they were).

She was fifteen minutes early, which really meant she was right on time as she locked the car and walked up to the front step. A hesitation pulled at her as she was sharply reminded of what she was doing. Earlier today she’d pulled out a week’s groceries worth of cash, and now she was on the top step of the woman’s business, anticipating prickling down her spine.

She stepped forward and rang the doorbell before she could stop herself.

A light flickered on the lower level, shadows flickering through the opaque glass, and then the door was being opened.

The woman’s eyes drew over her, a smile breaking out over her red lips. “Oh, aren’t you just divine.”

Zelda drew in a breath, taking in the woman. She was more than she had dared to expect. When she’d thought of a dominatrix, she’d fantasied about a great many women from movies, before settling on the fantasy of a plain woman wearing red lipstick, and while the woman was definitely wearing red lipstick, she was by no definition plain. If anything, Zelda felt a visceral reaction as she gazed upon her.

She had assumed that Lilith would be dressed in pvc or a great array of leather. Instead the woman wore a burgundy blouse, and a pencil skirt. Her hair was out, drawing down her back, and the longer she stared at her, the more intense of an urge Zelda had to draw her fingers through it as she was pressed against the door frame.

Lilith’s eyes sparkled as she let out a short laugh, as if knowing where her thoughts were sinking to. “Usually I’d make some snide comment about where my eyes were, but I like you.”

Zelda straightened up, trying to mask her embarrassment as she reached into her handbag. “Lilith, I take it?” she asked, pulling out the card. “I found this in a book.”

Lilith’s grin only widened and Zelda had the sudden feeling of being a mouse in the sights of a cat as the woman’s fingers came out and plucked the business card from her hand. “I had a feeling someone special would find this. Well…come inside,” she said, pushing the door open wider before gesturing for Zelda to enter. “I’ll give you a tour.”

Zelda stepped inside, her heels clicking over the hardwood floor as the door was closed behind (but not locked, she noted). Lilith led her away from the stairs, down a hall to begin with. The walls contained modern artwork, scrawled with unfamiliar artist names in their corners. “We have the kitchen,” Lilith begun. Zelda tore her eyes away from the art to listen attentively. “After a session, I like to set you here with a cup of tea until I’m certain you’re safe to drive home. Then there’s the garden if you would like to do any outdoor sessions,” she said before flicking the outdoor light on.

Soft lights flickered on, enough to show a small, well-maintained garden with high brick walls to prevent any nosy neighbour from overlooking. There was a tall, old tree in one corner that hung its branches over the grassed section. If Zelda didn’t know exactly what this place was, she would have been impressed over the garden’s selection of flowers.

“There’s an outdoor shower too,” Lilith said, pointing to the side of the house.

Zelda looked around, nodding shortly, uncertain if she should say that she wasn’t comfortable in an outdoor setting. But before she could even open her mouth, Lilith had flicked off the lights and was raising her eyes brows playfully at her. “Follow me,” she said, before leading her back down the hall, up the narrow stairs.

At the top of the stairs, the woman paused and looked over her shoulder. “Now, I ask all phones be switched off before we begin.”

“Of course,” Zelda agreed, pausing to pull out her phone in her handbag and ensuring it was switched off.

“While I don’t mind a photo sessions, I do request that they’re negotiated before hand,” Lilith said, as she continued to lead her up to the higher levels.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Lilith ignored her comment, instead showing her where the bathroom was (a grey towel already laid out), before leading her to the bedroom.

As the door was opened, Zelda felt her stomach tighten, and then unknot as she looked around at the expanse of the room.

She wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected (maybe something more dungeon like with shades of black and red) but the bedroom was warm. Almost straight out of a furniture catalogue nice, but with a bit of home comfort to it. It had ambient light, a queen sized four-poster bed, and more modern artwork on the wall. There was a dresser under the window (with which the curtains were closed), and a floor length mirror to one corner.

There was even a sheepskin laid out on the floor.

If it wasn’t for the hook hanging from the ceiling, and the fact that the wardrobe to the other side of the room was partially open, showing an array of kink tools, she would have thought that this was the woman’s actual home.

“How does this work?” Zelda enquired. “Forgive me for being candid, but this is the first time in engaging in any such services of…this profession.”

“No need to ask forgiveness so soon,” Lilith said, moving to take a casual step closer. “To begin, we’ll negotiate what you want versus what I’m comfortable with doing, I’ll confirm a few safety things with yourself and then we’ll begin.”

Simple enough.

“Do you know what you want?”

Zelda paused, her eyes drawing away from the woman’s face to look over the room. This was not the time to be coy, and despite a hesitation in her, wanting to play demure, she swallowed it back. “Submission, mostly. I like bondage and…” she thought of the riding crop she’d seen, hanging from the wardrobe. “Being struck…consensually.”

“Impact play,” Lilith said, showing her teeth in the wide grin she bore. “Barehanded or with a tool?”

Zelda swallowed at the words, feeling her nerves alight as she watched Lilith made another step closer to her. She was barely a yard away now and Zelda couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be thrown over her lap. “I have a selection of devices that we can play with. Given that you’re the client, it’s entirely up to you in how we do this.”

“I don’t mind,” Zelda said, feeling the words stick in her throat. She wasn’t sure how she wanted to ask, but the idea of laying things out seemed…too clinical.

“Did you want me to lead you in a scene, so you’re not quite sure what would occur?”

Zelda nodded, feeling the heat crawl up her chest. “That would be satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory,” the woman teased, and now she was walking around her in a circle, close enough that Zelda could reach out and touch her if she so desired it. “I’ll demand the utmost obedience if you want submission. Are you prepared to obey?”

A shiver ran down her spine, and Zelda drew herself up taller as the woman came to stand before her again, a foot away. She could kiss her. “If you’re as good as you seemed to think you are.”

Lilith’s laughed. “I think we’re both going to enjoy this.” She drew in a breath and paused, running her eyes down Zelda’s body, seeming to inspect certain sections before drawing her eyes back up to hers. “If we’re to do some domination with impact play, is there any thing specifically off limits?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I keep to all the lovely fleshy areas, away from anything that might do any serious damage. But…there are a few areas that fit that description that some people aren’t comfortable with.”

Zelda swallowed, realising what she meant. Her voice was hoarse when she responded, “I don’t mind.”

Lilith smiled. “This is very new for you, isn’t it?”

Hissing in a breath, Zelda folded her arms, “I’ve engaged in plenty of things during my time. I’m hardly some twenty-year-old virgin looking to get their cherry popped.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have. I’m sure you’ve played with spanking and handcuffs and thought they were delightful. It’s where we all begin,” she smiled at Zelda in a way that seemed to strip Zelda bare of any retort. “How about I show you a standard play and at any time you find your self uncomfortable or even if you stop enjoying yourself, we’ll stop?”

“That sounds reasonable.”

“Good. Not that’s out of the way, before we begin, I need to run through a few things with you.”

“Housekeeping?” Zelda asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Ah, so you do listen, that’ll make things easier. I’ll be direct then, I don’t engage in sex in the first session, no matter how…lovely the client is,” Lilith’s seemed to pause, drinking her in as she bit her lip. “I’ll need you to get tested first.”

“Tested? I assure you––“

“Assurances are all well and good, but I don’t know you and you don’t know me. We don’t have to engage in sex if you don’t wish to disclose that, but those are my rules if you do.”

“And how will I know about your history?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Lilith said, giving a sharp smile.

Zelda bit her tongue and nodded. She didn’t even know if she did want to engage in sex, or even if she would do a repeat session, so it wasn’t worth discussing any further than that.

“Now, is there anything I should know? Any triggers or fears that I should be mindful of?”

“No,” Zelda said with as much honesty as she could manage. There was nothing she could think of worth bringing up that would come into play.

“Do you know your limits?”

“I do.”

Lilith tilted her head as she crossed her arms underneath her chest. The way her eyes narrowed, Zelda had the feeling that she was reading into the phrasing before she gave a short nod. “And what’s your safe word?”

Zelda frowned. “Stop isn’t sufficient?”

“No. And don’t choose mercy either, I quite enjoy begging and you’ll enjoy doing it on your knees.”

Zelda hissed in a breath at the words, blinking at the woman. Begging? She hadn’t begged for a single thing in her life.

Lilith grinned at her, and despite how utterly frustrating the woman’s cockiness was, Zelda couldn’t help but feel arousal tightening low in her belly, making her all the more aware of the lace she wore underneath her garter belt.

“I recommend a word that’s two to three syllables long that you can say through a gag––so probably avoid your plosives and fricative constants. And you might want to look at something that’s jarring if said in the context of any role-play you may be inclined to engage in.”

Zelda looked around the room, and then unsatisfied with anything she saw, racked her own brain for an idea. “Fine, what about music box?”

“Suitable choice.” Lilith said, and then expression softened. She stepped forward, asking, “Now, final question, what are you hoping to get out of this?”

Zelda’s mouth parted, but whatever lie she had prepared didn’t come out, instead she found herself looking into the depths of Lilith’s blue eyes, and responding honestly. “To let go.” It was a vague answer, but Lilith nodded as if she understood completely.

“I’ll need you to remain honest with me about your current state. Any time you feel unwell or you stop enjoying the scene, you need to let me know.”

Lilith stepped away from her and walked over to a dresser, she bent forward casually, as if it wasn’t a performance (though Zelda wasn’t fooled) and opened one of the lower drawers.

Zelda watched as she picked up what looked to be a length of rope and a blindfold, before closing the drawer. She then stood up and walked over to the wardrobe, opening it up wide for Zelda’s view.

Her hands drew over different items, fingering tools and toys individually before she seemed to pause over the riding crop, Zelda stood up taller, and then watched as her fingers passed it. Sighing, she looked away, trying to not be overly concerned. This was a woman well versed in her own play, she needed to trust her.

The doors shut, the items were placed on the bed and then Lilith was walking over to her, and Zelda noticed with distinct pleasure, she had a riding crop in grip. “Do you have any questions or concerns before we begin?” she asked.

“You will be discreet. This won’t come back on me?”

“So as long as you assure the same thing, I swear to you that I will never speak a word of what happens between us to another soul.”

“Good, because I have excellent lawyers.”

Lilith laughed, “As do I. Now that those needless threats are out of the way,” she said as she stepped back, drawing her eyes over Zelda again. And then the visage changed and the woman seemed to grow taller in her heels. She turned and lifted up the lid of the ottoman bench, showing the empty storage. “You can place your bag, jacket and your dress in here.”

“My dress?”

Lilith stared at her, as if waiting for Zelda to say something further. Perhaps protest.

Zelda drew a breath and stepped forward, placing her bag onto one side of it, before removing her coat and setting that in the ottoman, too. Then it was just completing her last request.

Lilith stepped closer as she hesitated, standing behind her to reach up and draw Zelda’s hair over her shoulder, before she unclasped the top of the dress and then slowly drew the zipper down so Zelda could feel the material part, cool air brushing over her skin.

The dress was tugged down her arms, down her waist and hips, and then she was stepping out of it, thankful for the comfort of the slip.

“You can keep your heels on.”

Zelda bent, picking up the material before placing it into the ottoman. She stood up tall again, watching as Lilith closed the ottoman lid.

Now what? She wanted to ask as her eyes flicked to the items on the bed.

Lilith moved, setting herself on the side of mattress, next to the items, before she crossed her legs. “Stand here,” she directed before her.

Zelda moved, standing before. So far, it seemed to be a game of patience and although they were getting closer and closer, she felt an anticipation rise in her, wishing the woman would just get to it.

“On your knees,” she said, not unlike a school teaching asking the class to sit down in their seats.

Zelda swallowed, and bent down, adjusting to kneel before her. Her hands clenched at her sides, and then stretched out. Lilith stared at her blankly, her eyes staring deep into her own. “And now?” Zelda asked.

“And now, until I say otherwise, you may only speak when spoken to. You are my servant and I am your Queen. You will obey implicitly,” she paused then, cocking her brow as if to dare Zelda to say otherwise. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, my queen,” she corrected.

“Yes, my queen,” Zelda affirmed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the words, and yet my queen sounded easier on the tongue than mistress.

“Hands forward.”

Zelda obeyed, setting them out before her, palm facing forward. Lilith adjusted them, turning them so her wrists faced each other, a few inches apart as she took the length of rope and began coiling over one forearm.

And then like a parlour trick, she was knotting and twisting the rope, and before Zelda could think about squirming away, both of her wrists bound before her in an elegant design. In all honesty, Zelda was impressed, watching as Lilith’s fingers slid between the bindings of rope, ensuring their comfort and tightness against the skin.

“Does it pinch?” she asked.

“No, my queen,” Zelda answered as she dropped her bound wrists down.

The riding crop hit her bare shoulder, a sharp smack ringing over skin. Zelda’s face looked up at the woman––both with surprise in how fast she’d managed to grab the crop, and in confusion as to what the hit had been for.

“Did I tell you that you could drop your hands?”

“No,” she said, lifting her hands again.

The crop hit her again, this time on the other shoulder and Zelda hissed in a breath, feeling the pleasure of the pain rush across her nerves.

“Do you know what you did wrong that time?”

Zelda blinked, in all honestly, she was still reeling from the hit. Swallowing, she found herself hoarsely whispering, “no.”

She watched as the riding crop was placed down on the bed and Lilith’s hand drew up, touching over where the mark was on her shoulder. The sensory shivered across her skin, and without intending to, she found herself leaning into the touch. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer ‘yes, my queen’ or ‘no, my queen’, every time, without hesitation or question. Can you do that for me?”

There was such condescension in the words, that Zelda gritted her teeth.“Yes,” watching as Lilith’s eyebrow arched as she reached for the crop. “My queen,” Zelda added, though she looked to the crop, watching as Lilith hand fingered over the leather handle, as if considering striking her for the insolence.

But the hand pulled away and Lilith’s expression pulled into a smile. “Good girl,” she purred. Reaching beside her, she took the blindfold. Zelda shut her eyes, feeling the leather placed on and done-up on the back of her head. There was movement, seeming to be Lilith standing up and moving around her, and then she felt fingers in her hair, combing through it.

Lilith’s hands settled on her shoulders and Zelda waited, feeling her hands grow tired at holding them in position.

There was a warmth that tickled her ear and Zelda felt her chest in-take with a small gasp as the woman spoke in low whisper into her ear, “Move forward until you feel the bed press against you here.” Her fingers drew over Zelda’s body, touching under her ribs.

Drawing in a breath, Zelda felt the hands hold over her firmly before slipping away. Taking that as the direction, Zelda moved slowly on her knees, and then felt her hands touch over the mattress. She shuffled further and when the frame pressed against her stomach, she stopped. Nothing followed. No order, no words and she found herself slowly drawing a breath, anticipating the riding crop to hit her.

Behind her, there was the sound of a drawer opening (the dresser?) and then it slid back. Lilith had rummaged for something and whatever it was, Zelda felt heartbeat go quick. Was it another tool, a cane? Or perhaps a gag to keep her quiet?

“Look at you, keeping perfectly still,” Lilith said as she seemed to settle behind her, fingers drawing over her shoulders, nails bluntly running down her forearms as she pressed against her back. “So obedient.”

Zelda bristled at the comment, and yet as her jaw clenched she found herself holding back from saying anything.

“I can’t wait to watch you come undone,” Lilith said, before standing up, drawing Zelda’s arms up, above her head. She could feel the woman set her heels on either side of her calves, her skirt brushing against the back of her head as she seemed fiddle high above her with the bed frame.

Zelda could hear the noise of fibres zipping against something, and then the feeling of the rope bindings being fiddled with, a vibration running through it, before it was tugged, hoisting her arms a little higher until they were stretched above her head, causing her to sit up tall. And then Lilith’s hand were drawing down her forearms again, checking the restraints.

Her fingers were warm against the coolness of the air, nails blunt as they slid under the rope. It was strangely intimate, in a way that had Zelda feeling all the more aware of her state of undress.

“Do you remember your safe word?” Lilith asked as she once again began drawing her fingers through her hair, seeming to brush them over her shoulder and off from her back. It was gentle and soothing, but it had Zelda wanting to press harder against the nails.

“Yes, my queen,” she said, feeling a flutter low in her belly.

“And, what’s your safe word?”

“Music box…my queen,” she said.

Lilith stepped away, and then there was nothing. A quiet pressed over her again and Zelda could feel how high her chest rose and fell, the way her heart was pounding loud in her ears as she stretched her fingers in the restraints.

And then something cold touched her back, sliding from the bare skin, down, over the slip before sliding down her back. She shivered at the touch, feeling it drag against the length of her spine before it lifted away.

That was her warning.

The crop snapped against her shoulder blade. Zelda gasped, arching against it. The pain rippled over her flesh, and yet Zelda felt the endorphins flood her bloodstream. A second snap came, and then a third just as quick on the other shoulder and Zelda’s mouth parted, a sigh pulling from her.

Fingers brushed over her shoulders, running over where the crop had struck her. She could smell the perfume sweep over her senses as Lilith stepped behind her, the crop dragging low against her backside. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Zelda bit her lip, nodding.

A short thwack against her ass had Zelda jolting in the restraints, a wetness pressing between her thighs.

“I expect you to use your words.”

“Yes.”

Another thwack against the other cheek, harder this time and Zelda was biting her bottom lip, trying to suppress the moan.

“Yes, my queen.”

“Good girl.”

There was a quiet again, an anticipation in the darkness of the blindfold as she felt Lilith walk around. Floorboards creaked beneath her knees and Zelda’s arms strained in the restrained, a soreness pulling at her shoulders as she squeezed her muscles, feeling the rope draw against them.

She ached and yet every strike stung with fresh relief. She wanted it. The creeping hesitation. The uncertainty of the strike. The moment with the brief touch, drawing against her skin to both soothe and tease before the next strike came, hard and fast.

And then the excitement turned to relief and Zelda felt her emotions bristle. It was like the very brick walls she built herself had turned to glass and the strikes were causing them to crack.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. But one strike hit her high across the shoulder blades and it wasn’t a gasp but a sob that broke through.

And then Lilith was there, her body pressed against her, arms around her. “Are you ready to stop?” she asked.

And Zelda nodded, clamping her jaw shut because she couldn’t cry. She didn’t know why she wanted to cry, but the words weren’t coming out and she knew she needed to say those fucking words, but if she did she was going to sob and she couldn’t sob and––

Lilith’s hand pressed firm under her chest, splaying over her ribs as she felt her tug at something, and then Zelda’s arms dropped and she was sagging back against Lilith, drawing in a tight breath as her lungs seems to constrict.

“Lift your arms,” Lilith said, her voice soft and soothing and Zelda lifted her arms and felt the ropes untangle. The blind fold was removed and they were all dropped away beside her, her arms falling at her sides, and still she felt Lilith’s hand splay over her chest, holding her steady against her.

She breathed, once, twice––pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth until her breath evened and the need to cry ebbed away.

“I’m fine,” Zelda said, and felt herself tremble, the words tightening in her throat.

“You are,” Lilith agreed before bowing her head, pressing her lips against her shoulder.

Zelda squeezed her eyes shut, willing the prickling in her eyes to cease as she drew in one more breath, then another and then…the hand eased, dropping away and she felt Lilith move away.

Opening her eyes, Zelda blinked away the blur, watching the room sharpen.

A hand came into her vision and Zelda looked at it before realising that Lilith was offering to help her stand.

Taking the hand, she pushed up onto her heels, standing awkwardly for a moment as she felt the world sway. But Lilith’s hand tightened on hers, as her arm came around and held around her waist.

A part of Zelda wanted to crumble against her. Collapse from the exertion of it all, but she didn’t. She took another breath and then steeled herself, straightening her back, shoulders back.

“You don’t need to do that,” Lilith advised, one hand steady on her waist, the other still holding her hand, thumb sliding over her knuckles. “You’re allowed to let go.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are,” she agreed, “but you’re also allowed to take a moment. There’s no one else here.”

Zelda swallowed, feeling the painful prick in her eyes before she looked away. “I should get dressed.”

Lilith drew in a breath and smiled softly as Zelda pulled her hand from hers. Her knuckles felt alight, as if she’d somehow gently awoke every nerve ending there.

“Before you do, I just need to check over the marks.”

Zelda nodded and allowed herself to be turned around. The woman’s fingers were gentle as they touch over her back, examining the upper area of her shoulders, before she drew the hem of slip up, looking over the marks oh her hips and thighs. Her touch was soft and Zelda found herself wobbling on her heels, her muscles twitching as the woman touched over the welts.

“They’ll be down by morning,” Lilith said, adjusting the slip over her. “I can put cream on it.”

Zelda cleared her throat, knowing that if the woman so much as stroked a thumb over her cheekbone, she was going to burst into tears again. “No, thank you,” she said firmly. “I can manage that myself at home.”

“As you wish. I’m going to make a drink. I have tea and coffee, or a soda if you wanted something else?”

“Tea’s fine,” Zelda said, her voice thick with emotions. She cleared her throat, blinking as she felt the tightness in her chest grow and ease. Lilith’s fingers burned where they rested on her hips.

“I’ll zip up your dress when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.”

Lilith stepped away and Zelda heard the sound of the door clicking shut. Carefully, Zelda dressed, doing up half of the zipper before giving up with how her arms shook.

In the mirror she could see her face was flushed with red. Her hair was mussed, but not so much that a quick comb through with her fingers couldn’t fix it. Pulling out her make-up, she touched up her lipstick, fixing her eye make-up enough that she didn’t appear as though she’d been crying.

Taking her hand bag and throwing her coat over it, she stepped out of the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Downstairs, she could heard the sound of water being poured into tea cups. For a moment, Zelda considered leaving, entirely embarrassed by what had occurred.

Except…she hadn’t paid and didn’t desire to have the woman chase after her for that.

Mustering up as much pride as she could, she stepped into the kitchen and watched as Lilith set down the milk and sugar in the centre of the table before smiling up at her. “Do you need help?” she enquired, pointing to her dress.

“If you don’t mind.”

Lilith walked over and brushed Zelda’s hair over one-shoulder, as she had before, before zipping it up. Her fingers smoothed down the back of the dress, brushing over the shoulders before fixed her hair again. “I wasn’t sure how you liked your tea,” Lilith said, before somehow managing to guide her into a chair and sit her down before Zelda could protest. “Tea, there’s almond fingers there too.”

And then Lilith was bustling behind her, fixing everything back into its rightful space as Zelda placed two cubes of sugar in her tea and watched it dissolve in the water as she stirred it.

She didn’t feel like crying any more, but if she was honest, there was a heaviness to her. Like she could sleep. She hadn’t felt this tired since…back when she’d been doing her doctorate.

“How do you feel?” Lilith asked as she sat down on the chair opposite her, taking her own cup of tea (though Zelda noticed she left it black without sugar). “And don’t say fine.”

“Exhausted,” Zelda responded honestly.

“That’s to be expected, you took quite the beating,” Lilith nodded. “More importantly though, did you find the relief that you were after?”

Zelda’s mouth parted. A part of her wanted to argue that she did not. The idea of crying in front of a stranger––despite the intimacy of situation––soured whatever relief she took from it. But it wasn’t true.

All the frustration she’d been feeling over the week was gone. Her shoulders felt lighter, her back was sore, but it didn’t feel overexerted. In truth, she felt good. “I did,” she answered.

Lilith smiled. “I’m very good.”

“And arrogant.”

“Comes with the territory,” she teased.

Zelda brought the cup to her mouth, trying to disguise the smile she felt growing.

The tea was decent, soothing as she sipped at it before setting it back on its saucer. It was a nice set, and it made Zelda all the more aware how much money had been poured into the apartment, giving it an elegance that differed so far away from the dungeon-like fantasy.

It suited her, and yet she couldn’t help but wonder where all this money came from.

She looked up and noticed that Lilith was staring at her in interest, likely trying to read where her thoughts were––but how could ask such a thing politely? I see you have money behind you? Does being a dominatrix make a lot of money? No. She couldn’t ask such a thing.

And yet it made her all the more aware that the woman still hadn’t asked for payment. Was she meant to broach that?

“Careful. You’ll wind yourself right back up and be on my doorstep by the end of the week.”

Zelda blinked, setting her cup down. “I beg your pardon?”

Lilith grinned, looking as if she might take the bait inadvertently left in the statement, but decided against it. “You’re overthinking something, I can see you stiffening to get to whatever thought you have––likely unspoken due to some…social propriety. Whatever it is, just say it.”

Zelda felt a frustration roll inside of her, disliking how the woman seemed to read her like an open book. “I was thinking about how payment worked.”

“Cash or card,” Lilith shrugged. “If you use card, it’ll pop up as a clothing boutique on your statement.”

“Do you run a clothes store?”

“Mm, story for another time,” she said, setting her cup down. “Now, cash or card?”

Zelda pulled out her wallet, drawing the dollar bills she’d picked up that morning. “Cash,” she advised.

Lilith smiled and took the money. Zelda half expected her to count it front of her, but instead, she set it on her table and rose, opening up a cupboard where she pulled out an invoice book and a pen.

She scribbled on the page, and then ripped it off, handing it back. “You take me as the type of woman who likes to keep her books in order,” she said. “On the very bottom, it has my website. If you go to services offered…you can explore what other interests you might have. If it’s not on the list, we can negotiate the next time you visit.”

Zelda took it tentatively and blinked at the invoice. All it advised was for services rendered in one column, with an amount of time, and then the tax and subtotal on the very bottom. It was all very…professional and Zelda found herself looking up at Lilith with a strange fascination.

Was this a business, or was it as much as a leisure pursuit for Lilith as it was for her clients.

“And just why do you think there’ll be a next time?” she asked with as much indignantly as she could manage.

Lilith leant back in her a chair, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Because you’re going to go home and shower and touch over the marks as you think of me.”

Zelda blanched at the comment, “Excuse me?”

“And then you’ll wait a few days for self control but a part of you is going to dig up that invoice and type the website into the search bar of your computer and scroll through all the services I offer until something just clicks, and then I’ll have the delight of your voice on my phone again.”

“I certainly will not.”

Lilith shrugged. “Suit your self, but do check out the services page first. I’m sure you’ll find a few things that will pique your interest.”

Zelda felt a humiliation burn through her cheeks as she stared at the woman. A part of her wanted to rise and storm off, or snap back at the woman, but she didn’t. She was locked to her seat, the fury building in her––but more importantly, she felt excited.

Excited in a way she couldn’t remember feeling since she was a twenty-something year old, getting up to no-good mischief because she could. Because it made her feel––

Ah, she realised suddenly

That was it.

She felt alive.

#lilith #zelda spellman #madam spellman #zelith #caos fanfic #morgans fic #morgan writes

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moonlit-han · 4 years

Text

a truth universally (un)acknowledged | chapter five

(artwork credit to @jisungieart)

genre: rivals-to-lovers, fluff, college au, theatre au pairing: han jisung x reader chapter word count: 5k warnings: suggestive, swearing, a wee drop of angst request: yes (@jisungsjheekies)

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

{prologue} {chapter one} {chapter two} {chapter three} {chapter four} {chapter five} {chapter six} {chapter seven, part one} {chapter seven, part two}

chapter five

✧ the middle of november ✧ y/n’s point of view ✧

It was a lovely November day, despite the slight chill in the air. As you checked your appearance one last time, and then one last time again, before your date with Jisung, Miri strolled into the bedroom with a mug of coffee in one hand and an orange in the other.

“Ooooh, where are you off to?” Miri said as she set down her coffee, then flopped down on her bed and started to peel the orange.

“I just need to get out—planning for finals is really taking it out of me. I think I’m gonna go wander around town, maybe head to the bookstore,” you said, knowing you told only a half-truth. It was completely plausible, since the local bookstore was a frequent haunt of yours; and, even if she didn’t say so, Miri would rather do anything else than simply spend the afternoon looking at books. (Not that she didn’t like reading, but she’d rather actually read the books than browse). So, it was a safe bet that she wouldn’t randomly appear around a bookshelf while you were there with Jisung.

“Ah. Well, I’ll just be here minding my own business and probably working on homework.” She sighed as she picked at a particularly tough patch of the orange’s skin. “I wish I could go out, but I got slammed this weekend with work. Have fun, though!”

“Sorry, babe,” you said, fixing Jisung’s scarf in place so that it wouldn’t fly away in the wind. “Maybe next time we can both go on a jaunt together! Also, do you want me to pick anything up for dinner or are we good with what we have here?”

“It’s fine. You deserve a break, especially since you’ve been rehearsing and tutoring and who knows what else.” Miri popped a slice of the orange into her mouth and smiled. “Nah, I’m sure we have enough stuff here.”

You stood in front of your best friend and opened your mouth like a begging three year-old. With surprising accuracy, Miri tossed an orange slice into your mouth; no wonder she’d been smiling—it was delicious. “I’ll let you know when I’m heading home,” you promised. “Do I look okay?”

“Lovely as ever,” Miri replied. “You really like that blue scarf, don’t you . . ..”

“Yep, I do! Bye!” you sang as you quickly grabbed your bag, slung the strap across your body, and tried not to look like you were racing out the door to avoid being questioned more.

As you approached the spot where you and Jisung had agreed to meet, your heart raced. What if a friend had dissuaded him from going out with you? What if he forgot? What if? What if? The thoughts chased each other around in your head, trying to convince you to turn around. You weren’t even sure how you’d a) fallen for Jisung, b) ended up making out with him at rehearsal, and c) decided to go on a date with him. No, that was a lie. You knew full well how that’d happened. You’d slowly fallen for Jisung without realizing it. It’d all happened so quickly and you had to remind yourself that going on one date didn’t mean you had to marry the man. Not that you were complaining, though.

But, your fears were unfounded. Jisung, who’d been waiting on a bench, stood up as soon as he saw you. A grin lit up his face, as bright and warm as the summer sun, and he strode toward you with excitement clear in his every movement.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jisung said once you reached him. “Um, may I hug you?”

“Hey! Oh my god, yeah, of course. We’ve made out so much that you really don’t need to ask for something as simple as a hug.”

“I just wanted to be respectful of your space, is all,” Jisung said, shrugging. “So . . ..” He held out his arms.

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around Jisung’s waist, resting your head on his chest. His coat made a nice pillow and he hugged you tightly. Craning your head back, you looked up at Jisung, who smiled sweetly and gave you a quick kiss. It was so casual you barely registered that he’d done it; although, the way your cheeks burned was a clear indication. You buried your face in his chest as you hugged for a moment longer, then broke apart.

“Let’s get going, then, shall we?”

It was a pleasant walk into town, with the wind seeming to blow everywhere but around you. You still had to bury your nose in the deep blue scarf, though. Instead of going for coffee as you’d originally planned, Jisung had suggested getting boba. Halfway to the shop, Jisung caught your hand with his and put your linked hands in his pocket. After a moment of completely baseless embarrassment, you decided that holding hands with Jisung was really quite pleasant. Plus, now one of your hands was wonderfully warm.

When you’d almost reached the shop, you had a moment of panic. The boba shop was a popular hangout spot for students. What if someone you knew saw you with Jisung?

As if reading your mind, Jisung said, “Y/N, come on. It’s not a big deal if someone we know sees us out and about. We can just tell them that we realized the error of our ways or something.” He kissed the top of your head. “Let’s just enjoy the boba, yeah?”

Of course, Jisung was right. It was your silly pride and, quite frankly, your terror of being seen as a liar that kept you from wanting to make your relationship—was it that at this point?—with Jisung known to all and sundry. It wasn’t as if there was some rule against you dating. The only thing that stood in the way of you brazenly announcing the fact to the world was you. Jisung was smart enough to understand your hesitance and not push you, especially if it meant he’d actually get to date you.

Hands still clasped together inside Jisung’s pocket, you entered the boba shop; you knew none of the people there, and immediately relaxed. As you both decided on which flavors you’d get, Jisung pulled you closer and rested his cheek on your head. It’d been a long time since you’d shared casual touches like this, but it was easy with Jisung. So easy that it shocked you.

Jisung ordered a creamy strawberry tea with the smallest tapioca pearls possible, while you chose a peach and ginger one with pearls and only half the usual sugar in it. As you sat down at a table and waited, you chatted of the most mundane things—the exam schedule, the weather, Jisung’s friend Chan and his music (and his love life, somehow), possible plans for rehearsals. Oh, and the deep blue scarf you still wore.

“I meant to give it back to you,” you said sheepishly.

“It’s fine,” Jisung said, waving away your attempts to return it to him in that moment. “Just keep it. It looks good on you and you obviously like it. If I ever need or want it back, I know where to find you.” He reached out and tucked the scarf into a more even position, brushing a lock of your hair back into place in the process.

He really is smooth, you thought, impressed.

Just then, your order was called and you went to fetch the drinks. Since it was cold outside, you agreed that staying inside to drink the teas would be best. Jisung insisted that you try each other’s. Full of delicious tea and still flirting back and forth, you headed outside. Even in the short period of time you’d been enjoying your boba, the wind had picked up and the temperature had dropped.

After a mercifully short walk down the street, you arrived at the bookstore. Channeling his most gentlemanly self, Jisung held the door for you as you stepped in out of the wind.

The smell of paper, the glues used to bind the books, and wood immediately met your nose. Despite its size, the bookstore was hushed. Excitement at being in the presence of so many books coursed through your body. It was as if the books themselves absorbed sound so that all attention could be paid to the words they contained. Bookstores, you’d often thought, were a bit like shrines to literature. People went to them to either browse or buy the books, to revel in the wonders of the written word. There was the distinct sense that, if anyone dared disturb the hush of the bookstore, dire consequences awaited—most likely from the books themselves. They were both that which was worshipped and the gatekeepers of their sacred place.

*✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

✧ jisung’s point of view ✧

As he took off his coat, Jisung let out a little sigh of contentment; it was warm inside the bookstore and the quiet was a lovely counterpoint to the howl of the wind outside. Glancing over at you, he saw that you’d left on his scarf—it really did look good on you. He watched you pause to take in the rows and rows of shelves containing thousands of books. It probably seemed like a paradise to you. When you turned round to face him, you had a wide smile on your face.

“Isn’t it lovely?” you said, excited but careful to keep your voice down.

“It’s the best,” Jisung replied, knowing you’d take his words to mean the bookstore and not your joy. “Where to?”

“Poetry, of course,” you said, and grabbed his hand. He was surprised you did, since, so far, he’d been the one to initiate touch. Maybe being in a place you clearly loved so much had leveled your inhibitions.

Jisung was curious to see which poets you liked. He’d read enough poetry from different genres, time periods, and even languages, to feel confident that he’d know at least one of the poets, if not the works, you showed him.

As you walked to the poetry section hand-in-hand, Jisung thought over how normal it felt to be with you. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting, since you’d been sustaining some sort of grudge against him for so long. But, with the misunderstandings and admissions of pride out of the way, you’d opened up to Jisung. Yes, you were still a little shy, but he’d expected that. And, found it extremely endearing.

Combing the poetry section with you fascinating for Jisung. You’d open a compendium of Modernist works one moment, a volume providing an overview of the works of Victorian women poets the next, then flit to a small book of Latinx poetry that was published just the year before. Your sheer joy to be reading so many different kinds of verse was palpable. All Jisung could do was watch, reading anything and everything you excitedly thrust in front of him. Later, Jisung would remember this as the exact moment he started to fall in love with you.

It was a perfect date.

After that first date, Jisung realized he could discuss poetry with you. In fact, he could talk about anything and took full advantage of that fact. It was the best feeling knowing that twice each week, he got to spend at least two completely uninterrupted hours with you. And, he got to act! The best thing was that playing Darcy and Elizabeth meant sanctioned making out. No one could fault you for practicing the kiss, or getting into character by flirting.

You’d still requested that he not tell anyone you were dating—well, besides Chan because Jisung couldn’t keep anything from his best friend, even if he wanted to—and he’d honored the request, knowing that, when the time came, everyone would know. Dates and spending time together had to be carefully planned, but didn’t they always?

It was the first week of December and the third week of you—was dating the right word? To Jisung it was. With that day’s rehearsal finished and your coats, scarves, and shoes back on, you caught Jisung’s hand as he made to exit the classroom.

“Hey,” you said softly, “let’s stay here a moment. I want to talk.”

“Okay.” Jisung’s heart raced as he tried not to make any assumptions before you spoke. But one thought kept pushing to the front of his mind: She’s going to leave me.

“Jisung,” you said, looking up at him seriously, “these past three weeks have been so, so lovely. No, Ji, please let me finish. I- Well, I never thought something like this would happen. I didn’t expect someone to treat me like you do, to understand me so well . . . to really care.”

“Of course, I care,” Jisung said, unable to stop himself. You laid a hand on his chest.

“I know, Ji, but this is all so new and different, especially because I thought about you in such a different way for . . ..” You paused, thinking. “Yeah, it was actually years. I’m having to relearn you, Jisung.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Jisung didn’t want to sound angry, but he couldn’t stand the suspense, not if you were going to leave him behind like so much chaff. “Y/N, please just tell me.”

“Well, I want to spend more time with you, Ji!” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling brightly up at him.

All Jisung could do was stare at you, astonished. He didn’t notice the small trickle of tears leaking from his eyes until you reached up and wiped them away.

“Ji?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

Jisung couldn’t even speak. He wrapped his arms around you and clung to you, burying his face in your hair. You stroked his hair, murmuring that it was okay and asking what was wrong. It took Jisung a moment to gather himself enough to respond, his relief was so great.

Finally, still holding you in his arms, he said, “Y/N, I thought you were going to dump me. You were so serious and the way you were talking . . . I really thought you were going to end this.”

“Oh, Jisung,” you breathed. “I’m so sorry. No, it’s not that at all. Like I said, I want to spend more time with you because I do like you. I like you a lot—more than I would’ve ever expected. Don’t worry, I’m here to stay, Ji.”

“So, you really want to spend more time with me? To be with me?” Jisung repeated, as if repetition would somehow reveal the truth or catch you in a lie.

“Yes, I do, Jisung. Really.” You were smiling, and Jisung was no match against your smile.

“Oh, thank god.”

You laughed softly, and said, “Rehearsals are a fine place to see you, but I’d feel bad if we used them as an excuse to be together, rather than as actual rehearsal time. I don’t want to worry about someone bursting in on us, you know?”

Jisung had to shake the mental picture of Professor Greystone walking in on you and him kissing—it was, quite frankly, a terrifying prospect. “What if we spent Saturdays together? You could always just come over to my place,” he said hopefully.

You still had your arms around Jisung’s waist, your hands a comfortable but slight pressure at the small of his back. “Hmmm, that might work. I’ll just say that I’m babysitting if anyone asks.” Your eyes went wide. “Shit, what about Chan?”

“Chan usually goes to the recording studio on Saturdays, and I’m sure he’d stay out if I asked him to,” Jisung offered.

Jisung felt you sigh against him. “That would be nice,” you said, sliding your hands into Jisung’s back pockets, “as long as he doesn’t come back at an, um, inopportune moment.”

“Are you planning on there being inopportune moments?” Jisung wiggled his eyebrows at you with a wicked grin on his face.

“Maybe,” you said with a wink, then rested your head against his chest. Jisung loved the feeling of having you so near. “We should go, just in case someone decides to come to the classroom.”

Still thanking his lucky stars that you hadn’t walked away, Jisung hummed in agreement.

*✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

✧ the middle of december ✧ y/n’s point of view ✧

You still weren’t sure how you’d managed to keep the fact that you were dating Han Jisung a secret from Miri. Her usually perceptive nature seemed to be dulled by the stress of impending exams, and, although you hated to see her stressed, you were secretly glad. Your excuse of babysitting on Saturdays so the parents could have a day to themselves had somehow held, especially because, so far, you’d actually gotten homework done with Jisung. You couldn’t guess what you’d tell her if she found out . . ..

Saturdays were now the day you looked forward to all week long. You and Jisung texted constantly, sometimes a little too late into the night, to the point that you had to stuff your blanket in your mouth to stifle your giggles. While you were still nervous about what others would think or say if they knew you were dating Jisung, it didn’t bother you half as much as it used to, and you knew that your fears were, in reality, nothing to worry about. You knew you were being silly, but couldn’t help it. Slowly, you grew more confident about the relationship and almost, just almost, wanted to tell someone.

The first time you went to Jisung’s, Chan was still there, and he winked at you on the way out the door. It made you blush. Later, Jisung told you, in all sincerity, that Chan thought the two of you weren’t doing homework or anything else that didn’t involve a bed. The second time you arrived, Jisung answered the door still in his pajamas with wildly tousled hair. This also made you blush, since Jisung’s idea of pajamas didn’t include a shirt.

Your time with Jisung truly was like a page out of someone else’s life. Whether you watched movies, grudgingly wrote papers, baked, or even just napped together, you considered the time well spent. You’d never had such an easy relationship before, nor one with someone so unfailingly caring. As exams started, being with Jisung calmed you and kept you sane. He always made sure that you both took breaks, even if it was just to scream into a pillow for five minutes. Thankfully, exams passed without any snags.

Both you and Miri headed home for the winter break, since on-campus housing closed unless special accommodations were made. You said goodbye to your best friend, promising to see each other over the break. You’d also made plans to see Jisung, since he was staying with Chan, who lived relatively close to you. You’d told your parents that you had a boyfriend, but weren’t really expecting them to be that fussed. They weren’t. They even offered for Jisung to come stay with you for a bit, and you weren’t about to pass up that opportunity.

On New Year’s Eve, Jisung came to stay with you for a week. A full week! Chan drove him over in the mid-afternoon, and nearly booted him out of the car.

“Go be with your girlfriend, you dork,” he called out the window as Jisung lugged his bag up the walkway to the house.

You’d come to open the door when you’d heard the car pull up, and laughed to see the stricken look on Jisung’s face.

“Come on in, Ji,” you said, kissing his cheek and waving to Chan.

It turned out that your parents loved Jisung. You both thanked any god that would listen for that stroke of luck—you couldn’t imagine what it would’ve been like if they hadn’t. Jisung helped make meals, clean up, and generally participated in your home’s daily life. He seemed to fit perfectly.

Your family’s New Year’s celebrations were simple but joyous, with wishes for health and happiness for everyone. As the clock struck midnight, Jisung spun you around and dipped you, kissing you thoroughly. Holding you in the dip for a moment longer, he whispered in your ear, “Happy New Year, love,” while your mother clapped in the background.

During the lazy evening of New Year’s Day you decided to run your lines together. You might as well take the time you had now to memorize them. Plus, it would be far easier with two people. Pleased that you were holding your promise to yourself to memorize your lines before the spring semester began, you sat cross-legged on your bed, two pillows behind your back.

“Ji, can we try that bit again?” you asked. “Maybe try something like flippant rather than sarcastic, if that makes sense?”

“Yeah, that should work better,” Jisung replied, and began his first scene with you again.

You each did your best to rely on memory rather than the script, although neither of you had really memorized much.

After more fine-tuning of lines, it didn’t take long until Jisung was sprawled on the bed next to you. He was tracing spirals onto your thigh, causing the skin to tingle a little, even though the fabric of your leggings. Somehow, Jisung always managed to deliver his lines perfectly, despite seeming distracted. He’d even wormed his way up the bed so that his head rested on your chest, since you’d also slipped down your support of pillows. Working through scene after scene, you got closer to Darcy’s proposal. By now, Jisung had decided to lay fully on top of you, looking into your eyes as he delivered his lines.

As Elizabeth, you described your misjudgment of Darcy and the folly of both your actions and words. Now more than ever, you felt keenly aware of the similarities between you and Elizabeth Bennet. As you spoke, Jisung slowly kissed up your neck from your collarbone, occasionally nipping at the skin. You threaded one hand through his hair, gently carding it as you continued to read from the script. There was no trying to memorize now. It was getting more and more difficult to concentrate on your lines, especially once Jisung began to pepper your face with light kisses that reminded you of a butterfly dancing across your skin. You felt the heat and pressure of his body radiating to yours, causing your heart to race.

When the time came for Jisung’s lines, he paused to glance at the script just once. Then, he kissed you deeply, taking all the time in the world. His hand slipped under the hem of your shirt.

“My dearest Y/N.” Jisung spoke the first phrase against your lips and you smiled at his substitution of your name for Elizabeth’s.

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do,” he continued. Jisung kissed you again, this time lingering at your mouth before kissing your cheek. With one hand in his hair, the other at his waist, you simply enjoyed the feeling of Jisung’s kisses.

“My feelings will not be repressed.” Jisung pressed his hips more firmly to yours and where his fingers ghosted across your skin were like little lines of fire. You exhaled, almost moaning, and caught his lips with yours.

Releasing your lips, Jisung murmured, “I do not know the month, the day, or the hour I fell in love with you, but my affections have not waned.” Then, as if kissing you were necessary to live, Jisung kissed you again. You nearly forgot that you’d been running lines.

Jisung propped himself up, and between nearly every word of the last sentence, he kissed a different part of you.

“You—he kissed your right temple—must—your forehead—allow—your nose—me—the corner of your lips—to tell you—he kissed the palm of your hand—how ardently—now he kissed your neck—I admire—then, your collarbone as he slid his body lower—and—your now bare shoulder—love you.” Jisung finally kissed your mouth again, and you knew there would be no more running of lines for the rest of the night.

Later in the week, you and Jisung were again occupied in your bedroom. Slipping off to kiss was one of the many things you did together, and today you were tangled together on the bed. You faintly heard a knock on the door downstairs and your father open it, welcoming however it was. You simply continued kissing Jisung, who was doing a very good job at making you breathless.

“Helloooooo,” a familiar voice called on the stairs. “Y/N! You up there?”

You started. Miri.

“Ji. Aaahh,” you gasped. You had to hold Jisung’s head away from your bare shoulder. “Jisung, stop. That’s Miri on the stairs,” you whispered. “Get under the bed—now!

Jisung rolled off the side of your bed with a loud thump as you straightened your shirt and patted down your hair. Quickly getting off the bed, you sat on the floor in front of your bed; thankfully, there was a large compendium of Shakespeare on the floor next to you. You took it up and opened it to a random page: As You Like It—of course, it was the play from which you’d first performed a monologue in college.

Just as you placed the book on your knees, Miri opened your door. “Hey, Y/N. Why didn’t you answer?” She looked down at you. “Oh. Why are you down there?”

“I was reading,” you lied smoothly, and hoped, yet again, that your lips weren’t too swollen from kissing.

“You always do dive into the world of whatever book you’re reading, don’t you. I heard a thump—you good?”

“Yeah. I just accidentally dropped this book off the bed, and then decided to stay down here with it,” you said. You felt Jisung’s hand on your back and you had to stop yourself from jumping at the contact.

“Just wanted to stop by to say ‘Hi,’ and to borrow your textbook from Dramaturgy I. You had to take that, right?” Miri sometimes took theatre classes, and would borrow books from you.

“Oh, yeah. It’s over on the bookshelf,” you said, glad to not have to get up, since you were sure Miri would be able to see Jisung if you did. And, he now hand his hand under the hem of your shirt.

“Thanks! So,” Miri continued as she got the book from the shelf, “what’ve you been up to?”

“Oh, not much. Just been enjoying time with my parents,” you said, trying to inject an air of levity into your voice. You desperately hoped it worked.

“That’s all?” Miri seemed incredulous. “You haven’t been, for example, going on dates or anything?”

You had to force yourself to take a breath before speaking. “Nope, not even dates, Mir.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. You could use a significant other . . ..”

“Well, maybe next semester!” you said brightly. Jisung, thankfully, had taken his hand off your back by now. You looked back down at the page you’d been supposedly reading.

Miri sighed. “You’re still in school mode, aren’t you. Well, I guess there’s no having fun with you when you’re like that.”

You looked up at your best friend, a rueful smile on your face. “Sorry, Mir.”

“It’s okay, babe. How about we get together next week, okay?” Miri said as she left your room.

“Sounds good,” you replied, keeping perfectly still with the smile on your face until you heard the front door open and close.

You let out a the breath you’d been holding and set down the book. Jisung squirmed his way out from under the bed.

He sat next to you with a smirk. “So, where were we?”

You could scarcely believe that you’d only been dating Jisung for a month and a half—it felt much, much longer. As you spent even more time together and, in fact, lived together, it was surprisingly easy to fall into a routine. You had known each other for the past three years, after all. Unlike some couples, you weren’t starting from barely knowing each other, either; yes, you didn’t know the deepest secrets of your hearts (yet), but you had been, at least, known to one another.

And now, you most certainly knew one another.

You and Jisung now had ample time to simply be together. More often than not, you’d be touching, whether holding hands or curled together on the couch. Your favorite thing was falling asleep in Jisung’s arms. It usually happened while you were watching a show or movie, or reading, together. You would lay on top of him, on your back, with his arms around you; you always held your clasped hands to your chest, as if to keep him close to your heart. After you’d fallen asleep like this twice, you realized that you must look like sea otters. In these quiet moments, Jisung’s hands fascinated you. You played with his fingers as your hands were intertwined, running your thumb over his in soft, slow strokes. Or, you’d trace patterns into his skin with your index finger, sometimes writing words across it or just following the lines on his palms.

Just Jisung’s steady breathing and heartbeat lulled you into that pink world between sleeping and waking. If you looked up at him with puppy eyes, he’d hum a little and you’d fall asleep even faster. Though, upon waking, you’d pepper him with kisses anywhere you could reach—his cheeks, chest, biceps, wrists, nose, shoulder, wherever. Just to gently press your lips to his skin was enough for you. Small, simple acts were how you liked to show affection.

You were so comfortable with Jisung now, and, really, you were glad of it. You liked having him as your boyfriend. Your boyfriend. What an amazing idea. If, at this time last year, someone had told you you’d be dating Han Jisung, you would have surely laughed in their face. But now, you couldn’t imagine having it any other way. In the deepest recesses of your heart, you felt love begin to stir.

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abigailmaitland · 5 years

Text

andi mack season 4.

4A ONLY.

Episode One.

Andi’s first day of SAVA. Buffy, Cyrus, Marty, TJ, and Jonah’s first day of Grant High school. They facetime before entering the school and wish each other luck. Jokes about how huge and old everyone is compared to them. They don’t have as many classes together as they used to. Jonah, feeling out of place, has a panic attack while getting his lunch. Andi feeling very out of place during her lunch texts Jonah - jokingly blaming him for making her accidentally submit her application. Jonah, instead of texting back accidentally facetimes her during his panic attack. Andi, shocked and concerned, helps him calm down. Jonah asks her if she really blames him. Andi, of course says no, and reassures him that one day she’ll probably thank him. Jonah returns to lunch, the group is confused as to where he went, he makes a face and just says “uh, high school food, right?” cyrus says “say no more. please.”

At the end of the school day everyone meets at The Spoon and talks about their first day. Andi comes home to balloons, cupcake, excited parents and a grandparent, who really want to hear EVERYTHING.

Episode Two.

Andi deals with a strict teacher who is very critical of her art for the first time in her life. She struggles with feeling inadequate because she has never had an art teacher not love her work. Definitely cries.

It’s club week at Grant High School, a week where the school encourages everyone to join a club/sport, especially incoming freshman. Buffy, Marty, and TJ immediately know where they belong (basketball & track respectively) whereas Cyrus and Jonah are lost on where to start. Cyrus grabs pamphlets for theater, photography, debate, student leadership, the student newspaper and tries to create a pros/cons list for each one. Jonah feels confused about where he belongs in school, in the group, in life. He misses the old dynamic and feels lost without Andi because everyone else is in a relationship. Being a third wheel is fine, you know, and not totally useless. But there is never a need for a fifth wheel.

Club spirit spreads outside of Grant High school. Bowie decides to join a morning yoga group, Bex starts photography classes as she’s started to take ‘before/after’ portraits for Cloud 10 as well as joins SAVA’s PTA, Cece continues her dance classes.

Episode Three.

Andi finds familiar faces at SAVA. Walker and Libby introduce Andi into their friend group. Andi tells them about the teacher who criticized her art; they reassure her that she’s tough on everyone and that she belongs here.

Buffy helps Cyrus choose the clubs he should join; debate and the student newspaper. He thanks her for knowing him; sometimes better than himself. Jonah continues to have a hard time in high school - whereas the rest of the group have slowly become acclimated to the environment. He used to know so many people and now he feels like he barely knows a fraction. Buffy, Cyrus, TJ, and Marty always include him, but they seem to be so seamless together and Jonah feels like he can’t keep us. He liked when it was just Buffy, Cyrus, him, and Andi. He likes when he hangs out with Cyrus by himself. Or Buffy and Cyrus. He feels like he still has a place with them. He’s determined relationships really do ruin everything.

TJ takes Cyrus on a date and gets embarrassed by his dyscalculia when he tries to pay in cash and finds himself taking too long to count his change and bills. Cyrus asks if he could help - TJ gets frustrated at himself and says he wanted to have a perfect date with him and not look like an idiot. Cyrus reminds TJ he’s not an idiot and offers to help him again. TJ sighs and nods his head. Cyrus counts TJ’s change with him.

Episode Four.

Buffy, Andi, and Cyrus have a sleepover weekend at Cece’s house. During the first night, they almost call it off because Buffy and Cyrus can’t stop texting Marty/TJ and talking about them. Andi reminds them that she’s supposed to be one of their best friends - can’t they have a few nights where they don’t think about boys? They sit in silence for like, an hour, and Buffy sighs, turns off her phone and gives it to Andi. Cyrus follows suit. They both apologize. They have a movie marathon, talk about school, stay up late talking about the future, Andi makes them all friendship bracelets.

At Buffy’s request, Marty invites TJ and Jonah to hang out at his house. They all sit there uncomfortably eating snacks for awhile, realizing despite being together everyday at high school they barely know each other. Marty breaks the ice and they play a game of 21 Questions. We learn more about all three boys and they become more comfortable around each other.

Bex and Bowie have a date night with another couple their age. This isn’t focused on as I think it would be boring for most viewers, but I just want to show them with age-appropriate friends, pls and thank <3

Episode Five.

Andi talks to Walker about his relationship with her and his relationship with Buffy. They reconcile with the past and admit they were pretty dumb as middle schoolers, huh? Andi says yes and then says “we’ll probably think that about ourselves now one day, won’t we?” Walker says “definitely.”

Cyrus asks Jonah why he’s been so out of it recently. Jonah claims that he’s not and they get into an argument, leading Jonah to say “I liked it better when no one was together. I’m not part of this group!” Jonah leaves lunch early, bumping into Amber. She can tell how upset he is. They sit against some lockers in a quiet hallway and talk. Amber tells him sometimes groups change. Jonah says he hates change and just wants everything to be how it was before. Amber says he feels like that now, but reminds him that he felt that way when they were in a relationship too, and would he still really want to be with her? Jonah says no (no offense) and that he guessed some changes were okay. Amber seems to have reconciled with their past and is okay being friends with him. Jonah says “Sometimes I wonder what’s wrong with me.” Amber tells him that she goes to therapy because she felt that way too. He asks if she found the answer. She says yes, and that she finds the solutions too.

Jonah texts Cyrus that he’s sorry. During gym class, he asks to go to the guidance counselor. The guidance counselor talks to Jonah and helps him come to terms with going to therapy and what to expect.

Episode Six.

Libby is angry and upset because they haven’t given her an interpreter yet and she’s struggling to keep up with the coursework and feels ostracized by her teachers. For a group project, Walker, Andi and Libby team up to create an art piece encompassing deaf culture and how deaf rights matter. They bring it to the principal’s office and tell them it’s illegal to not provide Libby an interpreter.

At Grant, Cyrus goes against a homophobic debater during a practice round (probably about either marriage laws or the guy who refused to bake a cake). He loses because he can’t keep his points straight due to getting too upset. He immediately texts TJ. TJ gets really angry and meets him at the debate room - they go to a hidden, empty corner of the high school. Cyrus cries, TJ comforts him with hugs and head kisses. Cyrus says he hates hiding who he is. TJ says he does too. Cyrus asks to come out publicly. TJ hesitates. “I don’t know if I’m ready?” Cyrus sighs. “Fine...but I’m going to come out to my parents. They don’t have to know about us, though.”

Cyrus gathers all 4 parents in the same room and comes out.

TJ thinks about coming out to his parents, but backs out.

Episode Seven.

Bowie tries to get the Mack family on a vegan diet after learning more about it during his morning yoga class. Andi is pretty accepting of it, but Bex struggles to maintain the diet. Bowie teaching them about how much meat can affect the environment. He makes them try a whole week with no meat and dairy - Bex starts sneaking to Cece’s to eat pizza, burgers, and ice cream.

Buffy notices Marty liking and commenting on two different “cute”/”model-type” girls pictures on social media. They’re both white. She texts Cyrus. Cyrus asks if maybe they’re related, but none of them share his last name. She also overheard a group of older girls talking about how real guys hate “athletic” girls and stop liking them after middle school. Buffy gets jealous, uncomfortable, and insecure. She stops talking to him and ignores during school. At the end of the week, she straightens her hair again and dresses more traditionally feminine. Marty notices and says “you look great, but...what’s up?” Buffy admits that she thought he would like her better this way. Marty asks why - she says that she found out he’s been liking other girls’ pictures and that none of them looked like her. Marty gets embarrassed and says that those girls are his future step-sisters and that his father, Antonio Sousa, just proposed and started egging him to be “nicer” and get closer to the girls. Buffy feels embarrassed. Marty assures her that she doesn’t have to be, that he should have told her and that he barely talked about his family because he thinks it’s “too messy” - he says she looks the most beautiful when she’s comfortable with herself.

Bex admits to Bowie that she’s been sneaking non-vegan food. He’s upset at first, but they come to a compromise. They will have three meatless nights instead of every single day. He understands that it’s a huge life-style change and admits that he’s cheated a little bit too, but that the environment is really important to him because “I want Andi to be able to enjoy this Earth to the fullest...and any other kid we might have.”

Bex says ‘um’

Episode Eight.

Marty, Jonah, and TJ hang out again. This time is more personal - Jonah talks about therapy and Marty talk about his changing family. Since they’re being personal, TJ admits that he’s struggling to tell his family and the wider school that he’s gay and dating Cyrus. The boys listen and try to give advice, but ultimately feel like they can’t really help and say that they’re sure Cyrus understands. TJ nods. “He understands for now, but eventually he won’t want to be with someone in the closet. He wants to be himself.”

Andi and Amber hang out for the first time in forever. Amber admits that she’s just been so bogged down because she’s taking college classes, stressing herself out plus family drama. Andi says that she’s been pretty stressed too and that the classes and projects are a lot harder than she imagined and that she misses always being with the GHC. Amber says that change is necessary and that distance makes the heart grow fonder and that she bet Andi is the best in the school, that she’s just being hard on herself. Andi shows Amber pictures of other’s art - Amber smiles and says that “yours is still the best, bambi.” Andi thanks Amber for being such a great friend.

Cyrus and TJ are distant and haven’t had their weekly date or even really texted. During basketball practice, TJ is frustrated and awful. The teammates ask where Cyrus is, saying that he’s almost always there for their practice as their good luck charm. TJ ignores the question and tries to shoot a three-pointer, missing over and over again. The teammates tell him to chill and take a break. TJ, frustrated, just yells “I’m gay!” His teammates are taken aback, but none seem outwardly opposed. “um...okay?” TJ sits down and drinks water. He says “I’m sorry. I just had to get that out there...for um...Cyrus.” it finally clicks for the team. They’re supportive bc they love Cyrus.

Bex asks Bowie how long he’s been thinking about more kids. Bowie admits that it just kind of came up - that someone in his yoga club was pregnant and his mind started wandering. He says that obviously he wouldn’t force it on Bex, just that he didn’t want to rule it out now either. He reminds her that he didn’t get to raise Andi and is disappointed he missed so many moments. Bex says he didn’t have to remind her and says she will always regret that she kept it a secret from him - but that she isn’t sure about another kid. Financially and emotionally. Bowie says he understands.

Episode Nine.

The mid-year project for SAVA is coming up. Andi is stressed as heck - she can’t think of what she wants to say to the world. She doubts she was ever an artist to begin with. It’s 3am and she finds herself texting Cyrus because she knows he’s always up. Cyrus says that she’s feeling impostor syndrome - but that she earned her place in SAVA, fair and square, and it was obviously because her application or some force in the universe. She says that sometimes she wishes she wasn’t in SAVA and that she went to Grant with the rest. Cyrus says that he misses her but knows in his heart that Andi belongs in SAVA. He updates her on him and TJ and how TJ doesn’t want to come out and he feels like TJ is embarrassed of him and who they are. Andi comforts Cyrus and reminds him how long it took him to tell her he liked Jonah and that they’re just in different parts of the journey. Andi gets an idea for her art project.

Buffy & Marty go on a date. He decides to take her to The Brazilian Day festival in town to teach her more about his culture. Buffy loves learning more about him, including that he can speak some Portuguese and that he can dance really well.

TJ asks Cyrus on a date. Cyrus hesitates. TJ smiles and says it can be a real date and that they can hold hands in public and post pictures on Instagram. Cyrus asks if he came out and TJ nods, before grinning and hugging him.

Bex hints to Cece that Bowie is thinking about another child. Cece tells her how much she’s grown as an adult and as a mother and that Cece is confident that Bex can make a choice. Bex has baby on the brain and is constantly focused on pregnancy - which all comes to head when she does a maternity shoot for her photography. She feels mixed feelings and talks to one of her friends to try to sort out her feelings.

Episode Ten. FINALE.

Andi’s project about change & growing up doesn’t go over well because she rushed it at 3am. This is the first time she’s failed a project and she’s devastated. Cyrus tries to cheer her up with The Spoon and a sleepover with a lot of ice cream.

Marty invites Buffy to his father’s wedding. It goes over well & they slow dance together for the first time.

Bex tells Bowie that she’s not against having another child, she was just scared. Bowie admits that he’s scared too...maybe they can face the fear together?

Jonah decides to join the music club, as well as participate in the high school “coffee houses” where students showcase their musical talents. He feels like he’s acclimating better.

#andi mack #this could probably be better but i'm kind of feeling it #4b will probably have more of some the characters that weren't really focused on #it was just really hard to figure out everything idk how ppl do this

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r-romanoff · 5 years

Text

Photon Blasts & Spider Webs

Chapter: 1 Part 2

Peter Parker x Male Reader

Master list

Chapter Summary: Cliches are seeming kinda frequent come your second day, and Bucky honestly can't say Sh*t

September, 23, 2019

"So, any new friends?" Wanda asked driving the two of you home. Yes actually. A girl Named Betty and some of her friends I think, I'm not really sure I don't know if they like me yet. Oh and this one weird kid Peter although he's more of an acquaintance though. I'm still getting to know him, kinda strange seeming." I then begin to explain my whole day and how it unfolded. "Look at that I'm so proud of you!" She smiles and laughs in a joking way. "Just don't blast any kids in the face this time." The burnett begins to chuckle even more, earning an embarrassed response. "Hey I was seven! I'm still mad Natasha told you. May she rest in peace." " "Amen. So wanna stuff our faces with food until we pass out" "Do I!!!"

September, 24, 2019

"Ok um... where to put you" the chem lab teacher mutters to himself. Then comes a somewhat loud voice. "There's an empty seat next to Peter." A random student sitting herself seemed like he didn't want anyone else sharing his space. She had wavy brown hair and a light mocha skin color, and she was wearing mostly black. "Good idea, wait. Where is Parker?" The teacher answered back, looking around the class room I quickly scan to see if the Peter I meet was to be seen. If it was that Peter was at all, "I'm here sorry I'm late Mrs. Watterson." Yup it was that same weird Peter from physics, and the hallway. "Good Y/N will be your partner from now on." The teacher concluded, as Peter began to walk to his desk I decided to fallow behind when it happened. I tripped.

Better yet someone had tripped me with their foot. As I fell I feel myself accidentally knock over some of the tubes and substances from desks nearby. Trying to cling on to my dignity, while accidentally bringing down Peter Parker with me. Both unwillingly but instinctively clenching on to his sweater Turning him around hoping not to fall we hit the ground, me landing on top of him, him laying there to cushion my fall. Unfortunately not doing the same to all I had knocked over glass beakers and cylinders crashing to the ground. Substances mixing in the air as I finally landed on him. Both of us cover in what ever it was that fell. Still in shock from what had seemed like the longest fall of my life all I'm able to mutter out while still grasping onto the boy was; "uh i-I." The situation getting a whole lot worse with my classmates beginning to open their mouths. "Aw My Shoes!" One kid yelled; "My Jacket..." an other complained seeming just as shocked as I was.

Speaking of shocked as the chattering increased the whole class began to lose control at what happened. No longer delaying the inevitable I look up at Peter, his face painted with shock, disbelief, and cluelessness but I couldn't really blame him either. And then it happened again; "Hey look Parker's got a boyfriend!" Shit it got worse. My face flushed pink in embarrassment, I immediately let go of Peter leaving visible marks on his sweater from where I was holding on, on his are and chest. Attempting to stand up I begin to stumble on my own two feet trying to avoid stepping on Peter sparing us any moment embarrassment, I storm out of the classroom my shirt dripping in what ever the mixed liquids were. All I could hear now were the faded noises of the chemistry lab and the teacher calling after me.

It wasn't until about thirty seconds later that I now realise someone is following me. I instantaneously come to a halt and begin to hold onto my elbows, hugging them when I realise who it is. "I'm sorry." I pout looking down at my feet feeling tears begin to leak, water beginning to glisten trying to hide behind the brim of my eye my nose beginning to sniffle. "I just came to make sure you were ok, um... are you cry-never mind. You probably don't want to clean up we really don't know what any of this is." He kindly walks over. "I'm in shock that's all I- um yeah that sounds nice, but I don't have any other clothes." I try to explain still sniffling. "I have spare clothes in the locker room. We could head over there if you'd like. By the way don't listen to anything Flash says he's kind of a dick to everybody." He mentions the name of the jerk who probably made the off hand comment. The for some reason really got to me. Resting his hand on my shoulder, slowly lifting my head I wipe the tears from my eyes. "Lead the way please." I faintly smile trying to look on the bright side that I didn't go crazy and photon blast anyone who was talking.

Following Peter at an extremely close distance to the locker rooms I feel six. I feel helpless, like before I discovered my powers that I barely use. I feel like the clingy 6 year old that would cling onto Tony's or Natasha's jeans when I was scared. The six year old that wouldn't leave Fury's or Maria Hill's side whenever we went out, or were at some secret base. The same little boy that loved having conversations with Maria Rambo about mom. Now that I've been 17 since April I still feel kind of the same, always asking Wanda for advice about things while watching Netflix with Sam and Bucky. "We're almost there" Peter says snapping me out of thought only to bring them to him, he seems really nice. Although I still can't shake this feeling that when we first met it was kind of forced in a bad not so good way.

He's definitely sugar coating something right, or am I just being paranoid. No he definitely seemed like he was looking for me, like he already knew who I was. "And we have officially made it." Peter snaps me out of my thoughts, holding the red door open for me. "Thanks, so um... you get into these situations often" I ask while he opens his locker not wanting our whole time to be spent in silence. "Well these situations specifically no, flash being a dick yes." He answers passing me a shirt with a printed photograph of the Avengers from a while back. "So which one is flash exactly?" I don't recall seeing who made the comment. Examining the black shirt more closely I see; Thor when he still had his old hammer, Wanda, Vision, Clint, Tony, Natasha, Rhodey, & Sam. Wow if I put this on I'll never hear the end of it when I get home. "He was the one that tripped you, that's Taylor Swift right?" What? Giving him a confused look he points to my now ruined shirt. Running my hand through my h/c messy hair, I look realizing the shirt I'm wearing had the initials T.s. with seagulls on it. And a faded blue and pink sky background that was now stained. "Oh yes 1989" I smile, only faintly however now seeing that my shirt is most likely not gonna clean out. "You're gonna put that on? Right?" I look back up only to find Peter half shirtless finding out he's refereeing to your shirt. Blushing intensely at his um... you know, I quickly turn around taking off my shirt and put the one he gave me on as quickly as possible.

Taking one last deep breath before turning back around to see him what I think is intensely staring. As my blushing intensifies I accidentally let words slip. "Were you looking?" "What! Um no, were you um, looking" he fumbled a bit "no." I mumble a bit feeling a bit insecure. Not that I wasn't fit I mean I had a little bit of muscle but I'm not fit-fit if that makes sense. "Um thanks a lot, I really appreciate it" I look at his shirt with an the school logo on it than looking back up at his face. Smiling he responds, "It's ok really we should do that again. No I mean not getting into that situation sorry! I mean hang out, I mean we didn't talk much but what I'm saying is I'd like to get to know you! If that isn't weird." He panics mildly earning a small giggle from me. "It's not funny." He frowns a bit; "No I'm sorry I'd like to hang out to, your cool. Exchange numbers?" I ask pulling out my cell phone. "Yes!" He does the same us giving and receiving each other's phone numbers. "We should probably head back to class to." He reminded me that the last thing I want is call home considering my current guardians.

As the rest of the day goes on I finally make it to lunch. Navigating the hallways again Betty finds me looking extremely concerned. "Y/N, thank goodness I found you are you ok. I heard what happened and the rumors being spread are awful." My heart immediately sank, rumors. Ok this is exactly like some shity coming of age high school movie now and I hate it. Rumors, what rumors? "I don't- what? Tell me what is going on" is all I'm able to say before pulling her into an empty hallway for an explanation. "People are going around saying that you're gay. I know it may not be a big deal and all but some people are taking it seriously, and I don't know what to tell people who ask about it." The blonde quickly whispers, my face becomes shocked and confused at the same time. "Well?" Betty almost asks waiting for a response. "It's half true, I'm bi. I think, I'm pretty sure." I whisper in a barely audible tone not wanting her to judge me as I rush into trusting a girl I've known for a day. "You know what, if you don't want anyone to know it'll probably blow over hopefully." She says smiling awkwardly "I'll help you get through this just don't worry we'll just hang out and ride out the storm ok. You still up for the mall tomorrow?" She grabs my hand trying to make sure I was calm. My facial expression having not changed since she told me the news. "Yeah I'm up I guess, let's just not comment on the rumors ok. I could care less currently I just wanna let things play out naturally, ok? It's just I don't want to be defined by my sexuality for now that's all. You're right anyway let's just relax and hang out after all it's currently not a big deal unless we make it one. And thanks a lot Betty." I lean in for a hug the blonde opening up her arms for an embrace. "No problem." She squeezed a bit tighter.

LATER THAT DAY

"Listen kid I understand I'm great and all, but you don't have to wear that shirt around if all you wanted was an autograph." Sam said with a cocky smirk as he sat down on the couch along with Bucky, and Wanda earning chuckles from you three. "Be careful Sam, if your head fills up with anymore air you might leave the atmosphere" Bucky begins to laugh with Wanda and I. "Or he could do us a favor and pop" I begin to laugh harder despite the fact that we were watching Bird Box. After a while of comebacks from Sam and Wanda we all eventually calm down. Watching Sandra Bullock and the kids making it down the rapids without Tom when all of a sudden. "Wait What!?!?" Wanda seems to have realized something as Bucky seemed to have pointed something out. Barns seems to be about to spit it out as well with a squinty smirk on his face; "Hey kid." I look at him and the others confused not knowing what to expect. "Who's shirt is that?" What, what does that oh... I can feel my ears heat up as Wanda and Sam's smirks grow. Bucky's eyes squint a bit more as his face looks like it's jokingly saying 'You little bastard.' Implying that he's thinking something dirty and at this point I really regret not showing and changing as soon as I got home because honestly I'm fucked.

Previous Chapter/

An: So I feel like my story is better a bit rushed if so please tell me. This also wasn't revised I forgot so feel free to correct any errors. Don't feel so good about it. May not be my best work.

Also the first paragraph of the chapter was ment to be the ending of the last chapter

Please give opinion I would love you here your thoughts on the second chapter also I think the reader in this is gonna be bi as in most stories the reader is usually full on gay regardless it doesn't matter because it is an x Peter Parker fic so yeah

Ps there may or may not be foreshadowing about something that's going to happening in the future of somebody's relationship

Tag List (ask to be put on)

@klanceiscannon14 @wiitchy-wooo @multifandom-slytherin @jonnyjay2413 @lazerman217 @stuffdealwithit @sorceressandy @sunshadetrees @filthydeatheaters

#male reader #peter parker #peter parker x male reader #marvel #spiderman #nick fury #maria hill #betty brant #captain marvel #carol danvers #captin marvel x male reader #mother son relationship #marvel mcu #mcu #bi spiderman

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rather-impertinent · 6 years

Text

Girl Next Door chpt. 9

A/N: I haven’t proof-read this because I can’t be arsed lmfao but I am sorry if there’s any mistakes! Sorry it took so long to finish this one, I hope you can forgive me! I promise I’ll try to be quicker with the next chapter! Love u guys thanks so much for reading xo

Dr Dwight Enys sighed tiredly as he made his way to his office to complete the paperwork for the gastrectomy he’d just performed. It had been a routine procedure, he’d even gotten close to beating his personal best of one hour and forty-nine minutes, but a last-minute drop in the patient’s blood pressure meant that they procedure had ultimately taken just over two hours to complete. The minute Dwight closed his office door behind him, his thoughts drifted back to his conversation with Morwenna a couple of days ago.

“So, what have you been up to for the past six months?” “Nevermind what I’ve been up to, what have you been up to?” Morwenna, asked, wiggling her eyebrows. “What is this?” She motioned to the pink mug adorned with a pug. “Explain.” Morwenna took a sip of her proffered cup of tea, examining Dwight closely over the rim, waiting for him to speak.

He fidgeted with the handle of his cup. “Can I get Loveday anything? A cup of milk? Orange juice?” They both glanced at the 8-month-old baby playing contentedly on the rug as she rammed the leg of an unsuspecting stuffed octopus into her mouth. “She’s fine. Stop trying to stall! So, what’s your girlfriend’s name?” Morwenna was grinning widely, the smile of a friend who had long been waiting for another friend to find happiness. Dwight sighed slightly. “Well, first of all, she’s not my girlfriend and–” “–but you wouldn’t mind if she was your girlfriend?” He nodded slowly, grudgingly admitting the strength of his feelings to another person. “Her name is Caroline, she’s my neighbour. She’s–” “–Oh! Demelza told me about her! She works with Dem now sometimes, right? Is she the really beautiful blonde one?” A small smile crept up on his face, coupled with a light blush. “Yes, and yes.” Morwenna took a big gulp of her tea and tried to settle a fussing Loveday, who was now feeling put out at not being the centre of attention. “Wow, impressive. So, what are you going to do? Have you asked her out? Does she like you back? Oh, my God, you have to bring her to Sam and Emma’s wedding next month, so I can meet her!” Dwight groaned. Why do women get so excitable over nothing? “Ugh, Wenna I feel like I’m back in high school! I’ll sort it myself.” She raised an eyebrow and him and scoffed, “No, you won’t! I know you won’t, Dwight. You’ll dance around the matter for far too long and then she’ll think you’re not interested and meet someone else and then we’ll all have to send care packages to your flat to keep you alive because you’ll go into some mental self-depreciating coma and convince yourself you’re not worthy of food or something!”

Dwight laughed at her not entirely false hypothesis. “Well, I have told her I like her. At least, I’m pretty sure I have. And we’ve kissed. She’s stayed over a few times – nothing’s happened though,” he added hastily as Morwenna’s eyebrows shot up, “But I’ve not asked her out officially yet, I want to but I just don’t want to fuck it up like–”

“Dwight, I swear to God, if you’re about to finish that sentence the way I think you are then shut your mouth right now. You can’t keep on letting what happened in the past ruin your future!” She looked at him pleadingly.

Dwight made a face and then smiled into his mug as he took a gulp of tea. “That was very philosophical of you.”

“Those of us without medical degrees do still have the capacity for deep thought, you know,” Morwenna teased with a deadpan expression. Dwight opened his mouth to tell her he didn’t mean it like that, but she burst out laughing. “I’m only joking! Now, are you going to ask her out or not?”

Dwight grimaced. Whenever he’d talk to Demelza about things like this, she was just quietly supportive and blessedly patient. Morwenna, on the other hand, was much more assertive when it came to matters of the heart. She and Drake had wasted no time in getting married, waiting just eight months from when they started dating, which raised everyone’s eyebrows, but three years later, they were probably the most stable couple of all his friends. “I, um, I guess so. I’m just not really sure how to go about it,” he sighed, necking his tea and placing the cup on the coffee table.

“Stop overcomplicating it. Just do it, it’s a simple seven-word question.” She bent down and picked up Loveday, bouncing her on her knee. “Uncle Dwight is being silly, isn’t he, sweetheart?”

Loveday clapped her chubby hands together in agreement, though not entirely sure what she was agreeing with.

Dwight swiped her cheek gently with his index finger. “Whose side are you on, huh?” He and Morwenna exchanged smiles. “So, where’s Drake? I haven’t seen him for ages!”

They’d gotten off the topic of Caroline for the evening then and chatted about this and that until Morwenna left. Dwight felt invigorated by her visit and appreciated her honesty and straight-to-the-point manner of speaking. He decided he was going to ask Caroline to be his girlfriend this week.

“Dr Enys?” a voice came from the door of his office, bringing him back to reality.

Dwight blinked, a patient form coming into focus, a pen held in his slack grip. He wondered how long he’d been spaced out for. He cleared his throat slightly. “Yes?”

The nurse smiled in amusement at him. “How many days should we keep Mr MacDonald in for?” she repeated.

“Oh, of course. I think maybe nine or ten days as opposed to a week, just to keep an eye on his blood pressure after such a major surgery.”

She walked into the room and handed him a clipboard. “Cool. Can you sign it off?”

Dwight wordlessly scribbled his signature on the forms, completely absorbed in his thoughts.

Once the room was vacated, Dwight sighed and quickly checked his phone. Caroline still hadn’t answered his text from yesterday morning or this morning. Oh well, he only had two more consultations until his lunch break, he would go see her then.

Dwight locked the car door behind him as he made his way across the car park. His car clock had informed him that it was 11:27am; meaning he’d been allowed out a little early. It had been weirdly quiet in the hospital all week, practically everybody had had time to eat an actual whole sandwich, salad or pasta, as opposed to the usual quick energy bar. Though grateful to have a break from cocoa orange Nakd bars for a few days, the idleness unnerved Dwight, as it almost felt like the calm before a storm.

The doorbell chimed as he stepped into the café, which was quiet for this time of day – only an elderly couple and what looked like two students playing truant from school occupied the building.

Dwight smiled and waved at Caroline, who was standing at the counter. She met his gaze but neither smiled nor waved. Instead, she leaned over and whispered something to Demelza and then disappeared somewhere around the corner.

Dwight thought it was a bit odd that she hadn’t stayed to greet him, but maybe it was her break and she was going to join him for coffee. “Hey, morning, Dem,” he chirped, failing to note the tense atmosphere in the room.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Demelza growled.

Dwight blinked, taken aback by her question and stung by the anger in her voice. “What do you mean?” he asked, the hurt and panic in his voice plain. “Dem, what’s–”

She shook her head, her nostrils flaring. Was he really about to lie to her? “I can’t believe after everything that happened you would even fucking entertain the thought of seeing her again. Keren brought nothing but trouble into your–”

“Keren?” Dwight blurted out, his brows creased almost painfully, his confusion at an all time high. “What? I haven’t seen her for–”

“Don’t lie to me, Dwight!” Demelza hissed, her face turning red in anger. “I can’t believe you would do–”

“I haven’t done anything! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” he shouted, causing the teenagers sat by the window to look up from their phones in interest. “Why the fuck would you think I’ve been talking to Keren? I haven’t seen her for about four years, I don’t even know if she’s still alive!” A bit dramatic but not entirely false. “What is going on?” he demanded, staring at her intently.

Demelza exhaled, releasing the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding – Dwight had never raised his voice at her before. Had he ever even raised his voice at anyone before? She nodded her head to the left, signalling him to follow her to an empty table. Demelza fidgeted with the sleeves of her long black shirt. “The other day,” she began slowly, “Caroline saw you with a brunette girl outside your flat. She said you gave her a massive hug and seemed really into her and that she came inside your flat and she–”

Dwight’s barely audible “oh, God” coupled with a hand over his face stopped Demelza’s speech. Dwight whined and ran a hand through his hair. “That was Morwenna, Dem. She came over for a quick catch up and brought Loveday!”

Demelza joined Dwight in placing a hand over her face. “Oh, thank fuck,” she breathed, so relieved he hadn’t gone back to the absolute travesty of an ex-girlfriend he had five years ago. “You had me worried! Shit, though, what are you going to do?”

He met her wide-eyed gaze with confusion. He blinked at his red-headed friend several times. “I don’t understand, what do you mean?”

She gestured helplessly at him. Why are men so stupid? “About Morwenna. About Caroline.” The penny slowly began to drop after a few seconds, but in his defence, he did get up at 4am. “You’ll obviously have to explain to Caro that it was Wenna and not Keren, but she’s so upset with you, Dwight. I doubt she’d believe you if you told her just now.” Demelza chewed her lip in apprehension, checking the counter to see if Caroline had emerged from the staffroom yet. She hadn’t.

Dwight followed her gaze and put two and two together. “But why is she upset with me? I’ve done nothing wrong!” He insisted stubbornly, annoyance creeping up on him. Why do women always jump to conclusions? What’s wrong with simply sitting down and talking about something?

Demelza cocked her head to the side and shot him a sharp glare before slapping his hand which rested limply on the table, as if she was telling off Julia. “Oh, stop being such a man child, Dwight! Try to see this from Caroline’s perspective; she had planned a nice surprise for you and then she saw you with–”

“What?” This came out as a sort of pathetic squeak. Dwight cleared his throat, guilt beginning to submerge his entire being. “Caroline planned a surprise for me?”

Demelza sighed, “Yes and when she saw you with Morwen–”

“What was the surprise?”

She glared at him and sighed loudly in impatience. “Dwight Stephen Enys if you interrupt me again so help me God I will leave you to sort out this fucking mess yourself, do you understand?” Dwight’s mouth remained firmly shut after he’d finished gulping. “So, when she saw you with Morwenna she got really upset because she thought you’d been seeing someone, who she assumed was Keren – I didn’t realise the two of you were that close, by the way –,” she added, raising a suggestive eyebrow at him before continuing, “and that you’d been playing her this whole time. She thought Loveday was yours because you looked so natural. She tried to say all this casually, as I’m sure you’ll know, but I could tell she was hurt, like… trying not to cry. She really likes you, Dwight. You better fucking fix this. You will literally never get a girl as hot as this ever. I know I’ve only worked with her for a few months but she’s really great and lovely and I think you guys are well suited.” Demelza’s eyes were soft as they meet his. “So, fix this and fix it quickly,” she ordered, rising from her seat and returning back to the coffee machine to clean it while the place was still quiet.

Dwight noted apprehensively that Caroline was still nowhere to be seen. Would she really not come out and talk to him? In any case, Dwight was nowhere near finished his shift and knew he had return to the hospital very soon, but before he leaving he approached Demelza once more. She slid him his usual order – a mocha with a double espresso shot – across the wooden countertop. Dwight smiled at the gesture – at least there was one less woman in the world who was mad at him. “Will you still be here when I get off later on?”

Demelza shook her head as she wrung out a wet cloth before beginning to swipe it across the wooden surface. “No, I’m finished at midday – I’m teaching two lectures this afternoon.” Demelza, as of two days ago, was now officially a part-time music lecturer at the local college. He had truly never met a more hardworking person than Demelza Poldark, and she never once complained about it.

“Well, what do you think I should do? For Caroline, I mean?” He checked his watch, and then danced on the spot impatiently – he had exactly eleven minutes to return the hospital, where he was now on rota for A&E.

Demelza continued to wipe down the serving counter and chewed her lip in contemplation. “Well, obviously you’ll have to apologise and explain… but you’ll have to do it in a way where she knows you truly mean it.”

Dwight shrugged helplessly and displayed both of his palms. “What does that even mean?” he groaned. Women and feelings were too complicated. He should just become a hermit.

Without warning or hesitation, Demelza hit him on the head with the wet, bleach-soaked cloth. “Stop being a whiny twat, it doesn’t suit you. I don’t know, you’re the one that’s in love with the girl, you figure it out.”

“I’m not in love with her,” he mumbled pathetically, averting his gaze, suddenly very interested in how he’d managed to scuff his shoes.

Demelza smirked and raised her eyebrows at him. “Very convincin’, Dr Enys,” she taunted, her Cornish accent coming through due to her amusement. She eyed the time on the clock and noted that his usual break-time was coming to an end, “you better get back to the hospital and do some actual work. God knows what your lot are always striking for, you never do anythin’!”

Her tease evoked a smile from him and he quickly leaned over the counter and hastily pressed his lips to her cheek. “Thanks for your help, Dem, you’re the best,” he said sincerely before rushing out of the building, hoping that being 20 seconds late won’t cost someone their life.

“Remember what I told you!” she called after him before the door closed. She shook her head at Dwight and his terrible luck with women and sighed. She hummed a Cornish folk tune softly as she continued doing some cleaning.

“Is he finally gone?” Caroline asked as she emerged from the small staff room around the corner, her tone a mixture of nervousness and iciness.

Demelza turned around and looked at her sympathetically. “Yes, but you see, we’ve got it all wrong.” Demelza grinned in relief. She approached Caroline to explain everything that Dwight had just told her, but she stopped short and hesitated. “I could explain... but I reckon Dwight would prefer to do that himself instead.”

Caroline stared at Demelza for moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she pressed her pink lips into a thin line and crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest. “Try me.”

#poldark fanfic #girl next door au #carolight #demelza poldark #morwenna carne

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writing-wolf · 6 years

Text

The Day He Loved Red

Summary: Mac meets someone from his old high school. Turns out that's also his high school crush. Kinda. Yeah.

Words: 1,658.

Warning(s): Nah. It's maybe excessively fluffy, but uh, yeah, you know me.

Angus MacGyver was Blue. No, not in a melodramatic way. Mac was Blue. Just Blue. He was a refreshing cool spring day, the sloshing sound of water in a glass, and the feeling of piercing, icy eyes staring into your soul.

Angus MacGyver hated red. The colour red symbolised pain, fire, and most of all, it resembled Nikki. It symbolised the thick cloud of lust and emotion he used to feel for her, the dark sheets they used to make love under. It symbolised the burning sensation of his breaking heart when she betrayed him. Red used to be the colour of love, now it only brought Mac pain.

The first time MacGyver meets you is in high school. You’re red. A small, bright red streak in a world of dark greys and browns. Yet Mac, as naive as a young, scrawny boy can be (yes, apparently even people with an IQ over 140 can be naive, when presented with the appropriate dose of hormones and the lack of understanding of the opposite sex), barely spares you a second glance. He walks away from the beautifully unique, intelligent girl with her large glasses and her remarkably large forest of bright red hair. Mac goes on with his life. So do you.

In the same year, both you and Mac graduate. Mac is 17, you are 16. You’re not a lot smarter than Mac, and probably not nearly as ‘creative’ when it comes to old metal scraps and machinery, but your intelligence leans more to the 'socially acceptable’ side of the wackiness that is the school system. Because while Mac is a 'homo universalis’, you assume his lack of interest in literature and theory explain why he graduates only a year earlier than the common student (not that you love theory, you’ve just been a little more subtle in your endeavours to obtain knowledge. Incinerating mopeds has never really fit in the school’s curriculum).

While you’re giving your graduation speech, Mac can’t help but notice the way the wispy strands of your hair sway with the wind, like flames dancing in the dark night sky. With the confidence of a young, scrawny boy on hormones, Angus MacGyver represses this short moment of infatuation. It’s the last time he’ll see you anyway.

Fate never works as one thinks it will, and in true fashion, you and Mac have the chance to meet again. This time, by the hands of Patricia Thornton (she swears your recruitment has nothing to do with your history with Mac, but fooling a not-so naive, not-so scrawny young man has proven to be a little trickier than necessary). When Jack and his younger partner arrive at the Phoenix Foundation a little more injured than usual, Patricia announces the need for a medical expert (because although Mac is a genius, he also has the annoying urge to protect everyone, but himself). Even though Mac tries to argue that his method of 'first aid’ works fine until they get to the hospital, both Patty and Riley are fed up with trying not to blow their cover after each mission.

Mac reluctantly agrees. Reluctantly. Maybe less reluctantly after seeing your picture. Maybe, just maybe, his heart skips a beat.

The following Monday, you seem to already be setting up your little doctor’s office when Mac arrives. He doesn’t say it, but you’ve definitely grown more beautiful, more red. One might even say you’re Red now. The youngest member of the Phoenix Foundation would agree. Yet, upon seeing you so Red, Mac’s afraid. It has barely been six months since Nikki’s betrayal, and hurt enters his barely healed heart again.

It takes a moment for you to notice him standing in the doorway, and it takes another moment for you to recognise him as the lanky salutatorian. There’s no doubt Mac has grown to be really handsome, but you hope he still has those nerdy qualities that made him stand out in high school. You also hope Bozer’s still around (it was hard not to notice the bubbly persona standing next to your high school crush).

It feels weird. You've missed years of each other's life, but one shy look in his eyes guarantees you that it's not going to be long before you're falling head over heels in love with him again.

“Hi, I'm Jamie. You're Angus MacGyver, right?” you ask, but it's only out of courtesy. Of course you remember Mac. He's the scrawny kid who incinerated a moped, and that's just something you can't forget. However, you're not sure he remembers you (but oh boy, does he).

“Yeah. Call me Mac though, never liked the name Angus. You're the valedictorian with the bright red hair?”

“I am,” you admit, smiling coyly. You're somehow glad he still remembers you.

“Graduated at 16, five years at med school, worked in UCLA for four years?”

“Nope, UCSF for three, UCLA for one. You graduated at 17, MIT for three—no two years, EOD for three, then DXS?” you shoot back.

“Yup. You looked into my file, didn't you?”

“No comment.”

Turns out, your services are very much required, to Mac's spite. During a particularly hectic mission, in which they have to improvise an operation on Ralph, the so-called accountant of an organisation named D-77, you're called in a hurry.

“Mac. Please tell me you're calling because you want to say hello, and not because there's currently an unconscious accountant lying in the trunk after he got shot?”

“I'm so sorry Doc, but we need you. Now.”

A normal person in a normal situation would probably panic, but, since this isn't a normal situation, and you are, by all means, not just a normal person, you try to quickly compose yourself, before giving Mac the necessary instructions.

Mac thanks you afterwards, when he gets back home. More specifically, with a hug (both of you will, if asked, deny that the hug lasts a little too long, that Mac's hand is a little too low on your back to be strictly platonic, and that the sexual tension is suffocating in such a small room).

For safety reasons, Bozer decides that, after finally obtaining Riley's entire phone number, Mac should have yours. Obviously, just in case something happens.

Over the next couple of weeks, the both of you share cute anecdotes, discuss 'sciencey things (as Jack calls it)', and of course you ask him about his physical health after tough missions. Mac spends a lot more time talking to you, and although Jack tends to complain a little about him not living in the present, the older man is secretly a little happy to see Mac having a stable relationship with a woman again, after Nikki.

Nikki however, in her glorious red glow, re-enters everyone's lives rather quickly. Only this time, she's one of the good guys again. As expected, Mac's inclined to believe Nikki, and give her a second chance. Jack shakes his head in disappointment when she returns; yes, he'd be happy for Mac in any other given situation, but this is Nikki. Even if she's working for the CIA, she's betrayed and confused his teammate more than he really needs to be confused and betrayed. He just hoped she'd be gone for longer than this.

Mac lets Nikki kiss him again, whilst patching up her wound. He really wants to believe her words, love her like he used to. He just can't. Not anymore. So he kisses her back, thinking that maybe, maybe, he can learn to love her shade of red again.

Nikki gets framed and arrested by Patricia, and for a brief moment, she looks back. She wants to scream at Mac, wants to tell him none of this is true. He'll figure it out on his own though, but she shivers at the look of betrayal in his eyes. Again. So when Patricia Thornton's lies are discovered, she smiles, almost laughs. No more lies.

She kisses Mac again, when it's all over. Her lust and the heat of the moment made her forget back then, but she feels it now. Through his kiss, she knows she's lost him.

Nikki promises Mac that they'll take it one step at a time. They both know they won't.

She steps out of the room and her eyes meet yours. As Nikki walks down the corridor, she pats your shoulder.

“He's all yours,” she murmurs, ignoring the slight blush on your cheeks. She's a fighter, but a fight against Eros is a fight long lost.

It takes another two years, 78 missions, 1502 text messages and seven experimental dates (and by experimental, I mean experimenting in the love department, as well as blowing things up in the name of science, because, well, nerds), but you get there eventually.

On the night of the fourth of January, 2018, you two lie on Mac's DIY self-heating mat, watching the meteor shower. Mac's arm is wrapped around you while you're cuddling, head on his chest.

“You know, Nikki told me something, back when Thornton was arrested. She said: ‘He's all yours.’ I wonder if she knew that this would happen,” you say.

“I think everyone knew, at least before we did.”

“We're stupid, aren't we? We've known each other since high school, and yet we don't realise we love each other until we're both adults!” you laugh. Mac turns to look at you for a moment, before capturing the moment, and you, in a sweet, breathtaking kiss. His soft lips touch yours gently as he goes in for another one, and then another one. He moves slowly, as if you were the most fragile, precious thing in the entire world. As if you were his world. You are.

“What was that for?” you ask him, still panting slightly. Mac only smiles. Oh, how he loves the Red of your lips, your hair, your cheeks. Oh, how he loves you.

“Making up for lost time, sweetheart.”

Aight people!

It took me a while, but I finished it! I think MacGyver isn't the most popular TV show out there, but I like it. So, if you do read it, tell me what you think of it! Send me comments, asks, requests, shtuff...

Have a lovely day!

#macgyver #macgyver reboot #macgyver imagine #mac #mac imagine #lucas till #lucas till imagine #fluff #angus macgyver #angus #mcgyver #angus mcgyver #mcgyver imagine

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quentinsquill · 6 years

Text

Fic: “Moondance” for The Welters Challenge, Week 7

Moondance

Author: Lexalicious70

Fandom: The Magicians

Pairing: Eliot/Quentin

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 2,647

Warnings: Discussions of anxiety, phobias

Summary: When Brakebills is hit by a magical blackout, Eliot must help Quentin confront one of his greatest fears.

A/N: This is for the @thewelterschallenge , the final week, “Blackout.” I don’t own The Magicians, this is just for fun. “Twilight Time” was composed by Artie Dunn, Al Nevins, Morty Nevins, and Buck Ram. Comments and kudos are magic! And as always, enjoy.

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15240561

Moondance

By Lexlicious70

“Fuck!” Margo snapped as the lights in the Physical Kids cottage went out all at once, then raised her gaze toward the second floor. “Did one of you assholes overload the fuse box again?” She shouted before groping her way to the bar. Outside, the night sky wore a thick blanket of clouds. Eliot sighed.

“These damn hipsters with their retro plug-in vibrators,” he observed.

“Hilarious. Now can you cast Chvartli’s mini sun before I break my neck?” Margo asked.

Eliot pushed his hands together and murmured the spell’s words, but no light grew between his hands. He frowned.

“The fuck?” He tried it again—nothing.

“Eliot!”

“I’m trying! It won’t cast!” He said, and the door to the cottage banged open. Eliot turned, peering into the darkness. “Oh, what fresh hell is this—who’s there?”

“It’s just me! It’s Todd!” The first-year closed the cottage door behind him. “I was over at the library when the power and the magic went out. Dean Fogg says not to panic, a spell went wrong during a faculty meeting. It should be back by—” the sound of Todd’s shins whacking into a chair and the resulting hiss of pain interrupted him—“Ow, ow . . . tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning like seven or eight hours from now? What are we supposed to do until then?” Margo asked.

“Maybe we could find some candles and play a game or read?” Todd suggested, and Eliot could almost feel the intensity of Margo’s scowl in the dark room.

“That’s a good idea, Todd,” she almost cooed it. “We can play Operation. What do you want removed first, your heart or your balls?”

“Uh. I’m going to—I’ll just be upstairs.” Todd fled before he finished speaking, stumbling up the first two steps before retreating completely.

“Tell Quentin to come down!” Eliot called after him, and a glint of Margo’s nail polished showed briefly at the bar’s brass inlay before her hand found his elbow. Eliot slipped an arm around her.

“So, any ideas for entertainment?”

“I think I have some candles around here somewhere . . .” Eliot began feeling around for drawer handles.

“Hey, uh—Eliot?” Todd’s voice spoke from halfway down the staircase. “Quentin’s not in his room.”

“What?” Eliot turned.

“I knocked and there was no answer, so I peeked in and his room is empty.”

“There’s only one place he could have gone,” Margo said, and Eliot nodded as he made his way toward the door.

“The library.”

“Wait, El, where are you going? I can’t see for shit!”

“Have Todd help you find some candles. Check in my nightstand, there might be a lighter in the top drawer. The top drawer!” Eliot said firmly, and Margo scoffed into the darkness.

“Don’t worry, I won’t jumble your lube collection.”

“Thanks, Bambi!” Eliot found the cottage door and headed out into the night, the moon and stars obscured by thunderheads. Eliot crossed the campus, his eidetic memory helping him along. All the buildings and charming coach lights at the crossways of the campus paths were dark, but Eliot could almost make out the lines of the library coming up on his right.

This is probably silly, Eliot thought to himself as he made a right and found his way to the library doors. Quentin is probably fine, he might have already left when the power cut out and could even be on his way back to the cottage. Still . . . he’s only been at Brakebills a few weeks, and Henry would probably give me hell if he got lost in the hedge maze or fell into one of the fountains. This isn’t at all because you’re fond of Quentin and his welfare is becoming increasingly important to you. Not at all.

Eliot pulled the library doors open and stepped into its darkness. The foyer seemed empty and Eliot’s footfalls echoed as he passed by the large reception desk and into the hushed recesses of Brakebills’ book stacks. The shelves in room after room overflowed with books, and Eliot could hear the ominous flapping of the feral books high in the eaves of the ancient history room, their magic so old that it seemed the blackout didn’t affect them much. Eliot found his way down to the applied magic section, where he knew Quentin might have gone. The glassed-in room featured a scatter of tables and padded chairs, each table large enough to accommodate six to eight students. The room was designed for first-year study groups and research and the familiar scent of books both old and new, along with the faint scents of coffee, perfume and cologne, and a whiff of ozone that Eliot always associated with first years hung in the air. Eliot paused, his head cocked, as thunder rumbled outside.

Thought I heard something . . .

He ventured in further, taking careful steps, his arms spread slightly to prevent walking into a table or stumbling over a chair. He passed through an alcove into one of the secondary rooms and stopped as a sound reached him—muffled sobbing, mixed with the quick, jagged breaths of someone well on his way to panicking. Alarm bells went off in Eliot’s head.

“Quentin?” He called into the darkness, the sound of his own echoing voice startling him. “Quentin, are you in here?”

The panicked noises grew louder and Eliot followed them, picking up his pace. He reached a table in the corner, a smaller one, accompanied by two chairs. Eliot’s booted foot touched one as he peered down. The other laid on its side nearby, as if someone had knocked it over suddenly. He caught the glint of metal in the dark and knelt down to touch it, only to find Quentin’s messenger bag. He turned his head to find Quentin hunched under the table, his knees drawn to his chest, his hands clapped over his ears, his eyes squeezed shut. Eliot’s stomach dropped and he crawled under the table.

“Quentin? Hey . . . Q . . .” He touched one of Quentin’s hands and the younger man gave a strangled yelp of surprise and flung himself backward, only to slam into the wall. He opened his eyes, his entire expression filled with panic. Eliot pulled one hand away from the side of Quentin’s face and interlocked their fingers. “Quentin! Hey! It’s me!”

Quentin blinked rapidly as Eliot spoke, although his panicked breathing didn’t slow.

“Eliot . .. ? What—what are you doing here?”

“I came to find you! One of the professor’s spells backfired during a meeting, that’s what caused the blackout.” Eliot glanced down at Quentin’s trembling hand. “I thought maybe you might get turned around finding your way back to the cottage—what’s wrong? Why are you hiding under here?”

“Uhhm . . . I was sitting here and the lights went out so I tried to cast a light spell but it didn’t work and the next thing I knew I was here alone and---and I couldn’t—” Quentin gestured toward the library doors, his eyes bright with tears. Eliot squeezed his hand.

“You couldn’t what?”

“I couldn’t leave!” Quentin almost wailed it. Eliot could feel him shaking in the small space and chose his next words carefully.

“Can you tell me why?” He asked, and Quentin’s full lips trembled.

“Mmm mmm.” He said after a moment, drawing his legs up tighter.

“Why not? Quentin . . . you can trust me. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but do you remember what I told you that day out on the back patio?” Eliot gave his hand another gentle squeeze. “You’re not alone here. Not then, and not now. I came all this way across a very dark campus to find you, not judge you.”

“But you like judging people,” Quentin said in a small voice, and Eliot nodded.

“While I can’t deny that, I’d say that this is a special case. Quentin, please. I want to help.”

Quentin ran a shaking hand across his mouth and Eliot could smell the sour tang of terror on the younger man.

“I’m—I’m afraid of the dark,” Quentin said at last as he cast a sidelong glance at Eliot.

“Well, we all have our phobias,” Eliot said after a moment. “Sometimes they stem from childhood trauma, and sometimes they’re completely irrational. In my case, it’s wasps. They horrify me; I’d rather face down a whole slew of hedge witches than pass close to a wasp nest.”

Quentin sniffled but didn’t let go of Eliot’s hand.

“I don’t know how old I was . . . maybe six . . . some of the neighborhood kids and I were playing and we found a hole in a fence at a construction site near my house. We started playing hide and seek and I crawled into this concrete pipe . . . I got about halfway in when I realized the other end was buried in concrete. I tried to turn around but I’d passed a narrow section on the way in. I started screaming for help but no one heard me. And—and then the sun went down. I spent the night curled up in that pipe.” Quentin’s voice shook. “The search and rescue team didn’t find me until the next morning.”

“Jesus. That must have been terrifying for you.”

“It’s why I couldn’t leave. I tried but it’s so dark!”

“I understand, Q. It’s going to be all right. We’re going to leave together—”

“No!” Quentin pulled his hand away from Eliot’s and bunched both into the hem of sweater.

“Quentin, I want you to listen. If we’re going to get back to the cottage to wait this out, you’re going to have to trust me! Do you trust me?”

Quentin yanked on the hem of his sweater until it hung out of shape, his eyes squeezed shut. Finally, he nodded.

“I trust you, El.”

“All right. Give me your hands. We’re going to move forward—” He took Quentin’s offered hands—“and I’ve got you. Whenever you get scared, you squeeze my hands and we’ll stop and rest. Understand?”

“I—I’ll try,” Quentin whispered, and Eliot paused to sling Quentin’s messenger bag around his neck before he began to lure Quentin out from under the table as he moved backward.

“Come on . . . good, I’m right here . . . just out from under the table. Now stand up. Good!’ Eliot squeezed Quentin’s hands in praise. “Now we’re going to move across the library just like this . . . the doors aren’t very far. Quentin? Look at me.” Eliot said as Quentin’s eyes began to dart left and right. “Eyes on me.” Eliot walked backward, his and Quentin’s elbows bent, their hands joined, their faces less than two inches apart. Quentin took small, unsure steps, like those of a deer in an unfamiliar meadow. They passed under the alcove and left the glassed-in room, and Quentin dug his heels in.

“No, no, nonononono!” He gasped, his tone spiking with octaves of panic, and Eliot paused.

“Quentin, it’s all right, I’m still here. Hey!” He squeezed Quentin’s hands and tugged him forward a step. Quentin’s messenger bag thumped against Eliot’s chest and he seized upon an idea. “Do you have a Fillory book in your bag?” He asked, and Quentin’s head jerked around at the mention of Fillory.

“Uh?”

“You always carry a Fillory book with you! Which one is in your bag?” Eliot asked.

“I—The F-Flying Forest.” Quentin stammered, and Eliot nodded.

“Do you remember how Jane got separated from Helen while they were in the forest, and how scared she was?

“Yeah. A lot of readers have compared that to the scene in Snow White, some of the Fillory forums even have pretty extensive meta about it,” Quentin said, and Eliot blessed Quentin’s obsession and his pedantic nature.

“Do you remember what the dryad did to help her see that the forest was no place to fear?”

Quentin nodded.

“He danced with her.”

That’s right.” Eliot led him across the library and out the double doors. When they reached the edge of the Sea, Quentin balked at the huge dark expanse and Eliot tugged him forward and into his arms.

“Eyes on me, Quentin,” he said firmly, and led the younger man into a sweeping waltz across the grass as he began to sing softly in Quentin’s ear:

“Heavenly shades of night are falling, it's twilight time

Out of the mist your voice is calling, it's twilight time

When purple colored curtains mark the end of day

I'll hear you, my dear, at twilight time

Deepening shadows gather splendor as day is done

Fingers of night will soon surrender the setting sun

I count the moments darling till you're here with me

Together at last at twilight time . . .”

Quentin stumbled along as Eliot led, but his smaller stature made it simple for Eliot to guide him, one hand dropping to Quentin’s right hip to push him in the right direction. Eliot let his sense memory guide him and halfway across the Sea, Quentin’s head dropped onto Eliot’s chest, resting it there as Eliot murmured the song’s refrain. Finally, Eliot’s foot hit pavement and he found himself on the pathway to the cottage. He paused to catch his breath and Quentin seemed to come out of his torpor all at once. It began to rain, but he didn’t flinch.

“El?” He glanced up over Eliot’s shoulder to see the outline of the cottage. “Are we . . .?”

“Home.” Eliot nodded. “Are you all right? Do you want to go inside?”

“In a minute.” A pause. “I can’t believe you did that for me.” A nervous string of laughter escaped him. “No one’s ever sung to me before.”

The rain tapered off as the moon played tag with fat, dark clouds, each of them edged with eager flickers of lighting.

“You must think I’m such a child,” Quentin said at last, and Eliot slid a gentle hand under Quentin’s chin to tilt his head upward. Behind them, the cottage lights flared to life and a muffled cheer went up from within.

“What I think, Quentin, is that you have the courage and talent to make a fine magician. And it was my pleasure to dance with you.”

“Thank you.” Quentin cleared his throat and pushed a lock of hair behind one ear. “Do—uhm, I still have the book. The Flying Forest . . . do you want to come up to my room and talk about it some more?”

Hope flooded Eliot’s heart.

“I’d like that, Q.” He glanced up at the sky. “Looks like it might storm. I hope we don’t lose power again.”

Quentin took his messenger bag from Eliot.

“I’m not worried, El.” He slid his fingers between Eliot’s until they locked together. “My room’s not big enough for another dance, but I’m sure we could figure out some way to pass the time.” Quentin smiled, a promise rising in his dark eyes.

Eliot glanced down at their joined hands and allowed himself a smile as Quentin tugged him toward the inviting lights of the cottage.

FIN

#the welters challenge #blackout #queliot #The Magicians #fic

36 notes · View notes

therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

༄ Home » original

Genre: Angst, Slice of Life, Fluff ☁

Word Count: 3,101 ☁

Pairing: First Person ☁

World: Original ☁

Author’s Note: This was originally written as the start of a Prince of Tennis fanfic, thus the name Genjou Sanada, but I’m trash at series and will probably never see it through so I just made it a stand-alone one shot instead lol

WARNING: This fic talks heavily about anxiety and panic attacks. Read at your own risk.

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I was born with an anxiety disorder. When I was growing up, I simply thought that I didn’t fit in, so I changed myself and tried to join the various groups within my elementary school. First was the straight-A students – they were intelligent, hardworking, and above all, they followed the rules to a T. I tried hard, but I wasn’t very smart and my grades remained average.

Next were the skaters – they always carried a skateboard around with them and wore vans shoes. They didn’t really care about school, but they weren’t against it, either. They were just kinda there, existing through life. I tried hard again, but I couldn’t even stand on a skateboard.

After that, I started hanging out with the troublemakers – these kids hated school and all authority figures. They lived for chaos, stole from the teacher’s desk, and got into fights just because they could. I tried hard once more, but even after getting suspended for fighting and stealing pens from the teacher, it didn’t work out.

After that, I just gave up trying.

That was when my anxiety really started to bloom. Thinking back, I wonder why I chose to use such a beautiful word like bloom to describe something so ugly.

I started to panic whenever someone tried to talk to me and I begged my grandmother to homeschool me instead. She finally agreed, but this would come to be the biggest regret of my life. It nourished my anxiety, encouraged it to grow and grow until, eventually, it completed encompassed my entire existence.

I started to get super anxious whenever I would leave the house, and my mind would always betray me when someone tried speaking to me. I tried holding down a part-time job in middle school, but most of my time there was spent in the bathroom in tears and teetering on the edge of a mental break.

When my grandma died, none of my extended family wanted me or the problems that came along with my mental illness, so I became a ward of the state. I was one of the older kids, so potential parents never even spared me a glance – they only wanted a child past the terrible twos but before the angsty teen years, someone they could mold into their perfect little version of how their child should be. I had resigned to spend the rest of my young life in the orphanage.

But then… life changed for me. Or at least, it started to.

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“Children! Listen up,” Miss Maria clapped her hands to get our attention. She’s one of the high ranking matrons of the orphanage, specializing in the education of the older students, myself included. She was an older woman, just reaching the cusp of sixty, with gray hair kept in a tight bun and warm blue eyes the shade of the ocean. She was pretty strict when it came to rules, manners, and respect, but she was by no means abusive or cruel.

“We have some important clients visiting us this afternoon,” she continued. “Their company will be providing aide to Oakpine Orphanage, so you all must be on your best behavior.” Her eyes narrowed, sweeping across the assembled children. “Anyone caught misbehaving during this visit will be cleaning the orphanage from top to bottom with Miss Juliana! Dismissed,”

There was a flood of hushed whispers as the kids left the room. I was one of the last to leave the room, listening to the various gossip and conspiracy theories the other kids offered. The most prominent one was that the orphanage would close if they didn’t get this funding. The runner up theory was that the orphanage was being sold to some rich guy from overseas. Either way, all of the kids that were able to comprehend what either of those theories meant were on edge, bringing a tense aura across the building.

Around five o’clock that afternoon, five men dressed in suits arrived. I peaked around the corner into the entryway, watching curiously as they stepped into the small entrance hall where the reception desk was. The round man at the front of the pack introduced himself to Miss Maria and Miss Sarah as director Anthony Jones. The then introduced themselves in clockwise order.

The tall, thin man that resembled a skittish mouse was called Andrew Jamison. The short, stubby man with a bushy beard was Sean McNeil. The thin Asian man with thick glasses was Kiku Yamada. And the thicker Asian man was Genjou Sanada.

Miss Maria led the men toward her office at the back of the orphanage and I debated on whether or not I sure further press my luck by following them. Genjou was the last in the line and he paused, turning to look over his shoulder. His gaze met mine and my body tensed up, realizing I had been caught. He didn’t say anything, though, he just smiled at me before entering the office, the door shutting behind him. I really didn’t want to get stuck on cleaning duty for getting in the way, so I chose not to eavesdrop on them. As I turned around, though, two of the younger boys were sneaking past.

Clearly, the threat of cleaning didn’t bother them.

With a shrug, I grabbed one of the old books from the shelf inside the classroom and headed outside. Despite being the last leg of winter, it was quite nice outside. The breeze was a bit chilly, but the sun was shining from a bright ocean of blue above. I settled myself against the base of my favorite tree, and old weeping willow that was probably older than Miss Maria herself, and focused on the book.

It was an old murder mystery that had probably been with the orphanage since its beginning in the 1970s. The cover had faded and was peeling, the title on the spine barely visible. The pages were bent, torn, and stained a sickly yellow, and several of them had been scribbled on with crayon.

I quickly scanned the book to see if it was worth taking the effort to try and read through the mess. The entirety of chapters five, six, and half of seven had been torn crudely from the spine.

“Damn,” I muttered under my breath, dropping the book onto the grass beside me and letting my head fall back against the bark. I could see the sunlight peeking through the thick leaves, but then it was gone. It was trying to hide between a fluffy white cloud.

Feet crunched on the grass and I turned my head, finding Genjou approaching me. Is he going to scold me for eavesdropping on the adults? But he didn’t seem angry as he squatted down in front of me. In fact, he was smiling softly.

“Hello, Y/N.” His voice was deep and made me think of gravel, but it wasn’t painful to listen to. Actually, it was quite peaceful, calming even. I could detect an accent, but I wasn’t sure where from.

I swallowed hard at the attention as my nerves started up like a factory machine. Why did he know my name? Miss Maria had drilled in us since the day we arrived that we should always be respectful to guests, so I tried to keep my panic in check as I cleared my throat, sitting up straight. “Y-Yes, sir. Can I help you with something?”

“My name is Genjou Sanada. It’s nice to meet you.” His smile remained warm as he extended his hand toward me. I hesitantly shook it, noticed how large and calloused it was. “Miss Maria says you’re one of the oldest kids here. How old are you?”

“I just turned sixteen, sir.”

“May I ask how you came to live here?”

I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. It was so hard to maintain eye contact, but I was sure he would find it rude or offensive if I refused to look at him. “When my grandma passed away… I had nowhere else to go.”

His smile dropped a bit. “You have no other family?”

“I do, but… none of them really wanted me.” I couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, moving to stare at my jeans as I picked at a small hole on the side of my leg, tugging at the light blue piece of thread. I should have just left it at that, but the words spilled from my mouth before I could stop them. “My mom left me with grandma when I was really young and she never came back. I never met my dad.”

“I see. I’m sorry to hear that,” The man’s brown eyes shimmered with sadness as he regarded me and I cursed, my panic rising.

“A-Ah, no, i-it’s okay, really! I accepted it a long time ago. I… I’ve never really been the easiest kid to deal with, so I don’t blame them at all for not wanting me. Besides… there are plenty of other kids here with real tragic backstories, you know? Some of them haven’t even come to accept the reality, so it’s kind of sad.” I realized I was rambling but I just couldn’t seem to apply the brakes. His eyes had widened in surprise and I felt like I wanted to start crying for my stupidity. I scrambled to my feet, brushing off the seat of my jeans. “A-Ah, I’m sorry, please excuse me!”

And then I did what I do best, the only skill I’ve gained in life – I ran like my life depended on it, because in my brain, it did. I ran into the orphanage and to the second-floor bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me. I slid down the wooden door as panic wrapped its filthy claws around my body.

I felt ice-cold, my heart hammering painfully against my ribs. Tears stung at my eyes, rolling down my chubby cheeks even though I did my best to stop them from doing so. It felt like the world was closing in around me, the room getting smaller with every tick of the clock in the hallway. I knew it was all in my head. I knew that and yet it still felt like death’s boney hand was on my shoulder as he laughed in my ear, his breath the coldest chill I had ever felt in my life.

I tucked my knees to my chest, burying my face within them as I silently pleaded for everything to just stop.

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A week had passed since the five men visited the Oakpine Orphanage. The first couple of days, the mother matrons were clearly anxious about what the men had thought of their visit and if they believed we were fit to receive more funding. They were clearly distracted, allowing the troublemakers among us to get away with stuff they usually never would. After the sixth day passed, they were acting relieved and happy, and had returned to keeping a close eye on all of us. We assumed they had gotten the okay for the funding, but no one would comment on such.

On the seventh day, Miss Maria stopped me from leaving the room after class ended. The kids whispered and stared at me as they left, spinning their own theories as to why I was being kept behind, and she waited until the room was empty before addressing me.

Had she found out about my breakdown? Was she angry that I had so rudely run away from Genjou? I could only try to swallow my nerves as she began speaking.

She sat behind her wooden desk, hands folded in front of her as she sat with her back as straight as a pole. “Y/N, when Miss Garcia calls everyone down to supper, I would like you to stay behind.”

My body tensed up, hands gripping my torn jeans. “Am I… being punished for something?”

Her usually sharp expression softened. “No, dear, you’re not in trouble. I can’t say much right now, I just need to speak with you later.”

I wasn’t convinced, but I nodded anyway. “Yes, ma’am…”

“Good. You’re dismissed,”

I stepped out of the room, my mind running wild. She hadn’t seemed angry with me… but then why did she want to see me? And on taco night of all nights… I doubted it would be a simple five-minute meeting and by the time we were done, I was sure the more pig-headed of the children would have eaten all of the tacos.

With a sigh, I headed to my room, which I shared with nine other kids. There were five single beds on either side of the room, with a narrow space between them to walk down the middle of the room. My bed was at the back on the left.

Against the very back wall, under a large stained glass window, was a wooden box full of broken and dirty toys. Beside that were a row of dressers, one drawer for each child, and a small bookshelf that was standing on its very last life.

I fell onto my bed, the mattress hard and lumpy, as I stared up at the popcorn ceiling, a shade of faded white that more resembled coffee with a lot of milk. How many times had I just laid here counting the patterns that jutted out from the ceiling? I had probably counted every single mark at least three times by now.

The clock on the wall softly ticked.

Tick, tock, tick tock, tick tock.

It was driving me up a wall. Any other time, the kids would be screaming and playing so loud that the clock couldn’t even dream of being heard, but now it seemed as if the orphanage was silent.

I rolled over onto my side and closed my eyes, willing everything away.

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A light, airy chiming echoed throughout the orphanage, followed by Miss Garcia’s soft voice, “Dinner time!”

Like a stampede of buffalo, the kids dropped what they were doing and rushed toward the dining hall, nearly knocking the poor woman over in the process. I stood in the doorway, watching them as they excitedly talked about what toppings they wanted on their tacos. There were even debates over which was better – hard shell or soft. It seemed to be pretty evenly divided, and then there was one kid that tried to placate both sides by wrapping a soft shell around a hard shell, which only fueled the debate more.

A door opened down the hall and Miss Maria stepped out of her office. “Y/N, you saved me the trouble of having to come and get you. Come now, let’s not keep our guest waiting.”

My brow furrowed. There was a guest? I hadn’t heard anyone arrive, but I did manage to fall asleep for about ten minutes until one of the boys threw a soccer ball at the back of my head. Without a word, I followed her into the office, eyes widening when Genjou stood up from the chair in front of her desk.

He smiled warmly. “Hello, Y/N. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Hello,” I mumbled softly, turning my gaze to the brown carpet.

“Y/N, what have I told you about mumbling?” Miss Maria scolded, tapping my shoulder.

“Sorry, Miss Maria.”

“Go sit down, dear.”

“Yes, Miss Maria.” I slowly approached the desk, taking the seat on the left. The man reclaimed his seat, crossing one leg over the other. Miss Maria claimed her seat behind the desk, glancing at him before settling her attention on you.

“Now, Y/N, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked you here and why Mr. Sanada is here. Would you like to explain?” She wondered, quirking her brow at him.

He shifted in his chair so he could see you better. “I came here with a team of government officials to gather information on the current state of orphanages within the United States. It’s a joint effort between the Japanese government and the U.S. government to improve the well being of young children left in orphanages.”

I scratched my cheek, glancing at Miss Maria nervously. “I’m sorry… I don’t really understand what this has to do with me…”

“Patience,” she scolded.

“Sorry…”

“I didn’t plan on coming here to adopt anyone. In fact, I already have two children of my own, but…” He paused as if searching for the right words to express what he wanted to say. “After meeting you, I feel as if I would regret it if I didn’t adopt you.”

Wait, what? He… He wants to adopt me? I was left speechless, but one word passed through my lips before I could stop it. “Why?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest, but I feel as if you would be a wonderful addition to my family.”

I frowned at Miss Maria. “Did you tell me him about my issues?”

She nodded. “I’m required by law to disclose any medical information to potential adopters.”

“Then why?” My eyes snapped to his and I tried to get across how desperate I felt at that moment. “I don’t think you understand how bad I am. There’s a reason none of my relatives want me, my problems are too much to handle. I don’t interact with other human beings, I-I can’t even work! I’d be completely useless to you! There are… are so many wonderful children here that aren’t… broken like me. Surely they would be a better fit for -”

His large hand rested atop my head, gently ruffling my hair. I expected a look of pity or regret, but his gaze was full of warmth and understanding. “I’m well aware of how bad your condition is, but I would still like to bring you into my family. If you’re not comfortable, I certainly won’t force you, but the option is on the table. If you need time to think about it, that’s okay. It’s a big decision to make.”

Tears blurred my vision and I cursed at how sensitive I was being. This man, this stranger that I had met only once, was willing to put up my mental illness and give me a home, a family. But… what if I was more than he bargained for and sent me back? What if I make him hate me? What if –

Warm arms encircled my body, bringing me into a warm chest. I clung to his suit, unable to hold back my tears. This man, who I had met only once before, felt so warm and comforting.

He felt like home.

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worryinglyinnocent · 7 years

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Fic: A Helping Hand From Beyond (13/16)

Summary: “You know, sometimes the deceased stay with us, waiting until they’re sure we’ve moved on before they can move on themselves. Giving us a helping hand from beyond, as it were.”

When Gloria Rush and Rum Gold meet one cold October morning, they quickly come to the realisation that they share a common goal – to help those they left behind in life to move on and find happiness again. Using what little means available to them, the two lost souls team up to ensure their widows’ future, and find their own peace.

Rumbelle, Rushbelle, Gloria/Nick, and an epic Gold&Gloria bromance.

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[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [Twelve] [AO3]

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Thirteen

Definitive

Gloria performs her final intervention and Nicholas makes a decision

This is the crunch point. Gloria is standing outside Nicholas’s office, glaring in through the window with her arms folded and hoping that her peeved expression will somehow get through to him. It’s the morning after his date at Belle’s, a date that seemed to have gone incredibly well from what Gloria and Gold could see of it through the window, and he’s been pacing up and down his office ever since he got in. This is the crucial moment where he will decide either to pull back and give up or to go for it. Gloria is quite prepared to do anything and everything in her power to make him go for it. She hasn’t told Gold about her final desperate mission, leaving him to watch over Belle. She feels that this is something she needs to do alone. This hesitation that Nicholas is experiencing is between just the two of them, with no outside influence. If anything is going to reassure him that it’s all right to move on, then it has to be something that Gloria does. She glances around at the campus as it comes to life, knowing that she doesn’t really have long in which to make her move and she might have to get creative. Nicholas has a class with Belle this afternoon so she’s going to have to get him out of this state of confusion before then, or else something catastrophic could happen. Well, catastrophic is probably putting it a bit strongly. It’s not like the world’s going to end for one rash decision on Nicholas’s part, but Gloria knows that she couldn’t bear to watch him panic and throw away the first real chance of lasting happiness that he’s had since her death. A small part of her doesn’t want to be left alone with him, trying to make him move on, after Gold takes that step into the hereafter. Belle is ready to move on, and right now it seems that their entire existence here in this world rests on Nicholas’s decision. Soon it will be Thanksgiving and they’ll have a few days apart to think things over. He needs to be on the right track before then.

Gloria returns her attention to the office. Inside the room, Nicholas rakes his hands through his hair. He hasn’t looked at his whiteboards or papers at all, and she already knows that giving him time to think is really not a good idea. Gloria jumps back, startled, as Nicholas strides over to the window, pushing the sash up and leaning out. His eyes stare through her completely unseeing, and she breathes a sigh of relief, watching him leaning on the windowsill, taking deep breaths of the cool November air. The warmth of the office radiates out through the open window, and it makes Gloria shiver with the memory of feeling cold.

An idea comes to her. It might not come to anything, and it’s very risky, but it wouldn’t be the first time that she’s done something slightly unorthodox in the name of preventing a rash decision on either Belle or Nicholas’s part.

She grabs the windowsill and heaves herself up through the gap, sprawling in an ungainly heap on the floor just as Nicholas moves away and pushes the sash down. Right. She’s inside, a little closer now, and she can do something. She’s not quite sure what she needs to do, but she doesn’t think that it will have to be anything ridiculously dramatic like convincing the library staff that they have a rodent infestation - they’re still nervous about entering the tech room and there are mousetraps all over the library. Gloria feels a tad guilty about her deception, but not that much. It served its purpose after all.

Nicholas, she knows, is on a knife-edge, and all he needs is a little push in one direction or the other. Just a little influence to let him know that really, his best chance of happiness lies with Belle and letting himself be open to a relationship with her. This dithering is uncharacteristic of him; he’s usually a man of action in that once he’s made his mind up, that’s it. There’s no changing it. Which is why she needs to get him to make his mind up in the right direction.

Nicholas’s frantic movement finally stops and he sits down, tossing his ever-present notebook onto his desk and staring at it for a moment before going about his day. In the middle of the notebook is a bright green post-it note peeking out. Not for the first time, Gloria considers writing him a note. Dear Nicholas, you have my permission to date Belle. She’s lovely and you met her for a reason. Love Gloria.

She gives a snort of laughter. Whilst he would no doubt appreciate the bluntness, subtlety is key. All the same, the post-it gives her an idea, because she happens to know that this particular post-it note has scrawled on it Belle’s phone number. A plan begins to form in her mind. Just a little push, that’s all he needs now that she’s seen how much he’s wavering. A little tip in the right direction. Just a little sign from above to let him know he’s on the right track. Divine intervention in the most innocent of ways. Nicholas is not a spiritual man, she knows that much, and she knows that any small measure of faith that he might have had died when she did. He wouldn’t believe in some kind of sign from above, but he does believe in fate when the mood takes him, and he doesn’t generally believe in coincidences. If she can make something happen, then perhaps she can play on that small part of him that trusts in something bigger than himself.

The only trouble of course will be executing the plan when Nicholas never leaves his notebook alone, and she doesn’t have Gold to provide distractions in the form of runaway shelving carts or anything else he might happen to get his hands on. All she needs is the post-it. She inches closer to the desk, crouching down and closing her hand over the little book whilst he’s distracted turning his computer on, but then she has to jump back as he grabs it and flicks through the pages. Whilst the majority of his scrawling is equations, he jots down various other important bits and bobs in there, like appointments and indeed phone numbers. It’s a miracle that he can find anything useful in it and that he’s on time for anything he needs to go to, but it’s the way he’s always worked and Gloria won’t knock the system now.

He pauses for a split second at the post-it, checks a few figures and puts the notebook back. Gloria groans and rests her head against the desk, squinting at the sliver of green. It’s strange how so much can rest on something so small and so difficult to reach.

Just then Nicholas stops typing and gets up, locking the computer and leaving the office. Gloria’s somewhat surprised by the suddenness of the gesture but she doesn’t complain about it, flicking through the pages of the notebook and grabbing the post-it, slipping it away safely for use later, and as Nicholas returns a couple of minutes later with a paper cup in hand, she realises what caused her stroke of luck. The coffee machine has finally been fixed so Nicholas no longer has an excuse to go over to the library and see Belle every morning. However, it does give him an excuse to leave his office if only momentarily. The machine has actually been fixed for a few days, but Nicholas has continued to go over to the library for his coffee. They had taken this as a good sign, and the fact he has not done so today makes Gloria even more convinced of the urgency and necessity of this little quest of hers, hopefully her final intervention before she leaves Nicholas to his own devices once and for all. There’s no time to lose, but now she just has to play a waiting game. For all she’s a little desperate, she still can’t afford to do anything that might cause suspicion.

So she stands in the doorway, watching Nicholas work and waiting for him to leave for his lectures. If she times it right then it’ll be a good couple of hours before he returns to the office. Every fibre of her being, barely existent as she is, is thrumming with the tension. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt this much nervousness when she’s intervened in Nicholas’s life before, possibly because this time she feels like there’s more that can go wrong.

Finally he gets up and leaves, and Gloria slips out behind him. So far, so good. She waits until he’s out of sight around the corner before taking out the little post-it, slightly battered now, and tracing the loopy numbers written on it. Another idea comes to her, and she smiles. There’s no harm in making her intentions a bit more obvious. He’s not going to know that she’s behind it, after all.

The main problem with her plan, Gloria feels, is that she needs to procure a pencil, and in the middle of the corridor surrounded by students rushing about here, there and everywhere to get to their first lectures of the day, she laughs out loud. It’s the little things in life and death that make it. Who would ever have thought that someone’s future could rest on something as ridiculously small and inconceivable as a lost soul being unable to surreptitiously pick up a pencil. In the end, she slips into the campus stationery shop, grabbing a pencil from the display and hiding in the corner by the envelopes to make a little addition to the post-it, and she admires her handiwork.

If this doesn’t do it, then she’s going to have to get creative.

On his return to his office after his morning lectures and meetings, Nicholas raises an eyebrow when he sees a bright green post-it stuck to the door. It’s not unusual for his colleagues to leave him notes like this when he’s out of his office, as he’s not the most reliable of people to contact via any other means. As he comes closer, however, he sees that the post-it has not come from any of his fellow professors, but is in fact his own. It’s the post-it that Belle’s phone number is written on. He frowns, going into his pocket and taking out his notebook, rifling through the pages, but sure enough the note has gone. Of course it’s gone, because it’s now stuck on his door. How did that happen?

He peels the note away and reads the neat printed handwriting in pencil along the bottom.

Found this on the floor under your door. Thought it might be important!

There’s no name, just a good samaritan returning his many pieces of paper. He evidently sheds them often enough.

Letting himself back into his office, he looks at the note, putting it back into his notebook in roughly the same place that it had been before and continuing to stare at it. After a moment he grabs some tape and sticks it firmly to the page. That’s not something he wants to lose again. It would have to be Belle’s number. He’d had such a good evening last night, and then he’d ended up panicking at the last minute, and then he’d spent most of the rest of the time up until now going back and forth in his mind about what to do and where to go. He hasn’t begun a relationship since Gloria. He can’t remember how these things work, and they worked very differently back when they were both broke students in Oxford twenty odd years ago.

He looks again at the note.

Thought it might be important!

Yes. Yes, it is very important, and he will not lose it again. Nor will he lose his nerve.

Nicholas takes out his phone and taps out a quick message.

Thank you for last night. I had a great time. Sorry I rushed off.

God, he must look desperate, staring anxiously at his phone waiting for the girl he likes to reply to him. All those times he’s made acerbic remarks when his students’ phones go off in the middle of classes; he swears he’ll never do it again.

The phone pings.

Not a problem, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself and the food. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.

Not at all. Coffee after Astrophysics 101?

There’s a long pause and Nicholas drums his fingers along the desk as he waits for a response, and he looks down at his wedding ring. Soon, he thinks. Not quite yet, but soon. It’s taken a long time to get to this stage, but acceptance is finally arriving. Gloria’s not here. But he is. And Belle is.

And maybe it’s time to stop beating himself up about that fact.

The phone beeps again.

I’d love to.

#rushbelle fic #rushbelle #Gloria Rush #Dr Nicholas Rush #Fic: Helping Hand

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evakfanficsrecs · 7 years

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EVAK FANFICS RECS / PART 4

ONESHOTS:

I’ll take you as you are by Behindthecities Summary: Even can’t sleep so Isak draw’s him a bath.

One More Second by kosekardemomme Summary: Isak invites the boys over to hang out with Even, for the first time with just them, just after Christmas. “Evak” can’t keep their hands off each other, though.

isak x even | dance so good by BloonStuff Summary: When Isak happens upon Even out of bed in the first time in a few days, he decides to make the most of the moment.

MORE UNDER THE CUT

Steal Your Heart by alijan ★ Summary: An AU story of how Isak and Even met through Isak’s friends. Or, more specifically, a AU story of how Even chases after Isak and he lets himself be caught.

Strange Encounters by midnightsurge Summary: Standing at his sink is what looks to be an angel; with soft blond hair glowing under the bathroom lights and eyes as blue as the sky, Isak wonders if he actually fell back asleep and is still dreaming. “Hi,” the angel smiles at him, laughter lines crinkling his face. “Sorry about that, I thought everyone was still sleeping.” “Um,” Isak repeats intelligently. “You’re…” he trails off, not sure what his question should actually be. Pretty? Gorgeous? A stranger? A stranger standing in his bathroom very early in the morning and shouldn’t Isak maybe be reaching for his phone right about now? “Even,” the blond stranger now named Even greets him with a grin, moving forward to shake his hand. Or, Isak and Even are students at the University of Oslo. They meet under strange circumstances and it’s all Eskild’s fault.

The Hot Muffin Thief by Bellakitse ★ Summary: There is a magical muffin at the café where Isak’s buddy Jonas works. It’s Isak’s lifeline, he has it every day and then one day some hot art hipster steals his muffin.

carry my love to you by retts Summary: Even grasped the top of the duvet and dragged it over his shoulders, snuggling into the pillow. His eyes were closed as he let out a soft sigh. Isak brushed back the fringe falling across his forehead, ran his fingers through the hair behind his ear. He wanted to erase the bruises under Even’s eyes, kiss away the inexplicable sadness lingering on the corners of his mouth. If only it were that easy. Set directly after ep 9, Fredag.

flickered in my mind for only you by DarkBeauty_890 Summary: soulmates!au; But even the lonely nights hearing his mom cry for his dad couldn’t stop Isak from tracing the words (looped, like maybe his soul mate was an artist or a writer) etched permanently onto his skin. He sat huddled under the covers for hours, flashlight illuminating the darkened space, allowing Isak to wonder who they would be. His soulmate.

where you can be reborn by tomlinsoln Summary: Even makes Isak feel like himself, and Isak doesn’t care about the rest.

True or False by iriswests ★ Summary: childhood best friends!au; Seven moments between Isak and Even (+1 with Sonja), ranging from the ages of four and six to the ages of seventeen and nineteen, respectively.

Afternoon Kisses by DickAnderton ★ Summary: What could have happened during the cuddle scene if Isak and Even had been ready for more.

And If In That Moment by allyasavedtheday ★ Summary: Isak rolls his eyes and reaches for his beer again. Even’s teasing always feels different to his friends teasing him. Even’s teasing feels a lot like flirting. “Anyway back to Emma.” Fuck. “Why isn’t she your type?” Isak considers his options, considers a single conceivable reason why a straight seventeen-year-old boy wouldn’t like a girl like Emma. He can’t fucking think of a reason and it makes him panic but he’s also just- tired. So fucking tired of having to constantly lie about why he feels the way he does. So he settles on as close to the truth as he can get. “She just- I guess it’s never felt right.” *Or, what would’ve happened if Isak and Even had had the Halloween pregame alone like they had originally planned.

your eyes hold oceans by prettyboylou Summary: isak is everything even can think about. in every little corner of his brain, every single thought is isak and while that is partly crazy, even does not mind at all.

won’t you be my livewire by itjustkindahappened ★ Summary: It’s 1:54 in the afternoon on a gloomy Tuesday when an angel enters Even’s classroom. (alternatively, “i’ve been tryin to grab your attention in class for over half an hour by poking you and throwing things onto your desk and you’re refusing to acknowledge me and gdi all i wanted to do was tell you that you look cute and now it’s gone too far and i can’t go back”)

Now, Panic and Freak Out by dropdeadfox Summary: The thing is, Isak Valtersen is absolutely not gay. Like, really, really, really not gay. Okay, he may or may not feel butterflies in his stomach whenever he sees a certain third year across the school yard. A handsome and certainly very male third year. And he may or may not wish that said third year will sit beside him at the cafeteria, holding his hand under the table or pushing his hair back with those adorably long fingers, because he is certainly, absolutely, 100% sure that he is Not Gay.

And then our time will come. Over and over again. by UniversalParadox_13 Summary: “In my opinion, all the Isaks and Evens don’t gyrate in their universes under the same terms. While some Isaks and Evens have already met, others are in the process of doing so right now or are still waiting for it to happen, for them to meet.” “But, they do eventually meet?” He knew what it meant, when Even squeezed his hand a bit tighter. “Always.” Isak believed it with every fibre of his body and soul. “They always meet.” (Parallel Universes AU or 5 times Isak and Even meet each other by coincidence and know it is meant to be.)

Who Wants That Perfect Love Story Anyway? by mccolfer Summary: Six times someone from the girl group was maybe a little too involved in Isak and Even’s relationship and one time someone had no idea what was going on.

CHAPTERED:

The Nanny by allisonbucky Summary: Or, Even is a hot stressed dad of two little girls, and Isak becomes his nanny. Rom Com shenanigans ensue.

My Heart is Strong by photographer_of_thoughts ✓ Summary: His bipolar disorder made him want everything to be a great tragedy, a Baz Luhrmann film; because how else did things have meaning? His brain told him that time and time again. He’d lost track of how many people he’d let go because he wanted to “lose them forever” and subsequently keep them forever; tucked away into the memory palace in his brain… But he didn’t want that anymore. As soon as he’d kissed Isak he knew he wanted to be better this time. Or, Isak and Even meet in a therapist’s waiting room.

Shut your whore mouth, Even. This is not the Fault in Our Stars by Masterless ★ ✓ Summary: Even can remember the flare of pain in his chest and his head, the tightness in his throat, and the taste of pennies on his tongue. He remembers Sonja’s hands grasping his arm tightly as he leaned against the wall of lockers in the school hallway. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers. Black dots swam in front of his eyes, the world tilted, and everything went dark. Just Sonja’s frightened voice rang out in that darkness, repeating his name, calling for help. Then, there was nothing.

The Comments Below by DickAnderton ★ ✓ Summary: youtubers!au; Isak is a notoriously lazy gamer living with lgbt icon Eskild. When they invite youtube sensation Even Bech Naesheim over for a collaboration, #Evak is born. But it is not only their viewers who are falling in love.

That’s Not My Name by cuteandtwisted ★ ✓ Summary: one-night stand!au; “Isak.” Even smiled, then licked his lips. “Wanna go back to my place?” - aka: Isak is an exchange student in new york city where he meets a very forward and bewitching Even.

juste la fin du monde by loglady95 Summary: Sana blackmailed Isak into hosting a party at his place and gave his number to a stranger.

You say good morning when it’s midnight by Aceteroid ✓ Summary: It sucks, when your best friend is on a student exchange at the other end of the world for three months. It sucks even more, when you fall in love with the step-brother of his exchange student.

Masters of Communication by rumpelsnorcack ✓ Summary: Even was such a goddam dork, Isak thought fondly. But he was his dork, and Isak couldn’t imagine anyone better to have a scary adult conversation with. Or, a 5+1 in which Isak and Even find it hard to communicate, but then manage to do it really well.

44 Days by NovemberRose ✓ Summary: How Even and Isak spent 42 days apart and a weekend in the mountains brings them back together.

How In My Silence I Adored You by dahlstrom ★ ✓ Summary: In a parallel universe, the rest of the boy squad actually shows up at the first kosegruppa meeting and Isak stays for the love games. Thus, his first interaction with Even is quite different (no paper towels were harmed in this scenario). Also heavily hints at Vilde/Eva.

all of me, you take now by xxLeviBech Summary: Strings of oneshots featuring two boys that are obsessed with each other.

cold hands by salmonpanties Summary: monday 11.40: Isak lifted his gaze, and he saw an angel in front of him. Blond hair, blue eyes, fair skin, a stunning smile; quite the description of an angel - except, he was in the cafeteria of Nissen Gymnasium, sitting with his friends, eating buns. - Isak knew he liked boys a little bit more than he probably should, but it’s nothing he flaunts. Just because he’s not that interested in girls it doesn’t mean that he’s a homo, right? But then he meets Even, who’s beautiful, mysterious and exciting. And maybe Even is just the boy Isak has been waiting for? But it doesn’t mean that he’s a homo.

(★ - personal favorites | ✓ - completed fics)

#even bech næsheim #isak valtersen #evak #even x isak #isak x even #evak fanfiction #evak fanfics #evak fanfics recommendation #skam #skam fanfiction #masterposts

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khiphopfrictionals · 7 years

Text

Ten Toes Down: (2/10) Gray AU

Of course, you haven’t called.

You almost texted the gorgeous man the next morning, actually you had the whole message typed out but deleted it in a heat of shame. What could the two of you possibility talk about? How he secured a million dollar deal and how you served someone coffee today?

However, that does not stop you from thinking about the man. Sure, he’s attractive but there’s something more about the man that you can’t put a finger on. You’re very well aware that you’re going through the phase every normal girl experienced at thirteen, when every ounce of attention from a handsome older student is dissect and analyze for a proof of his affection towards you.

You would have asked Elo, a friend of yours since you arrived to Korea. Although Elo’s actions sometimes are questionable, you trusted the man for his honest opinion. However, the man has been busy lately.

That leaves Jessi, your blonde boss/co-worker at the café. She’s the one that introduced you to the ‘jerk’ that stood you up. Jessi apologized for introducing you to such a jerk but you doubt she really meant it. In the end, you forgive Jessi too easily. Besides, if it hadn’t been for her, you wouldn’t have met Sunghwa.

Oh God, you have to stop thinking about the man.

You told Jessi parts of the story. Jessi hadn’t been overly enthusiastic about it and warned you about going around that area in Seoul and talking to a strange handsome man.

The door opens, snapping you back to your reality. You quickly throw the spoon you were mixing with in the sink and spin around to greet the incoming customer who’s strolling to the counter in a determined way, if the sound of their steps is anything to go by.

“Hello, how can I- Jesus Sunghwa?”

The man just arches an eyebrow, “Sunghwa is just fine.”

A smile stretches across your face and you didn’t even remember to reply.

“How about you take my order?” Sunghwa knocks on the coffee machine.

You quickly blushes, “Um, I mean, what would you like? We have this new chai latte…” It has been ‘new in’ two months ago, but the man didn’t need to know that.

“I’ll take an espresso.”

Espresso. You bit your lip. Jessi has yet to show you how to make an espresso, which is the least frequently order drink at the café.

Taking a small cup, you approaches the machine with the feeling of dread. You study the buttons, back itching from Sunghwa’s stare.

“Take your time,” you hear the man say after a few minutes.

By the tone of his voice, you can tell that Sungwa is thoroughly amuse.

“Thanks,” you grin brightly at Sunghwa, inwardly squirming.

“Come on,” the ad exec shuffles closer but couldn’t get any closer due to the counter between the two of you, “It can’t be that difficult, Miss Waitress.”

“Not difficult? Why don’t you do it yourself, then?” You stupidly challenges him.

Then, before you know it, Sunghwa hoists himself up the counter and is standing next to you in all of his dark suit and white shirt glory, fiddling with the buttons and hot water.

‘God, he’s serious,’ you think at first and then, ‘Jessi is going throw a fit if she sees this.’

“Let me,” You say, attempting to get Sunghwa to go back to the other side of the counter, “I’ve done it before.”

“You’re looking at it as if it’s going to attack you,” Sunghwa didn’t move an inch, despite you pushing him away, “I know how to make a coffee.”

“It’s not a regular express,” You argue, realizing Sunghwa is using the wrong water pressure, “Just let me,” you grab a cup and uses all your strength to remove Sunghwa from the danger zone.

Sunghwa takes a step back, not letting go of a small handle where you put the coffee.

You presses ‘ready’.

Sunghwa unscrews the handle.

Hot white foam hit you straight in your face and you hear a faint ‘fuck’ before you could examine the damage with your own eyes. Which hurts like hell, by the way. Blinking rapidly to clear off the fog, you faces Sunghwa. Of fucking-course, there is a coffee stain on his suit.

“I told you to step back!” You whine, looking for a towel.

“Your machine is broken.”

“No, you just opened it when it was working!”

“You’re a shitty waitress, then.”

How Sunghwa even dare to say that is beyond you.

“What the hell were you doing behind the counter in the first place?”

“Helping you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help and look what happened to your suit!” You find the towel but the stain is too big for it to aid them.

Sunghwa obediently spares it a glance. Then, he shrugs the jacket off.

When you get a good look at the state of the whiteness of his shirt, you panic.

“Get out, just get out and stay on the other side,” You say, still panicking but angry at the same time at Sunghwa’s apparent mule-like stubbornness.

“Is this how you treat your customers?” Sunghwa teases but once again hoists himself up the counter. You thank god that Jessi is not here to see this.

“Only the special ones,” You shake your head, rolling your eyes. Feeling more relief now that the man is on the right side of the counter.

“Don’t ever call me that again.”

You turn to stare at him incredulously, but the man’s face is unreadable. So you start to take care of the coffee again before Sunghwa’s interruption. Someone is in a sour mood, but with a stained suit that probably cost a fortune, it’s not surprising.

“It’s good you don’t work at Starbucks,” Sunghwa comments, “It would have taken me a bit longer than three days to track you down, then.”

Your heart speeds up. Sunghwa has been looking for you?

“Here you go,” you pretend that the coffee is an espresso. Honestly, you just pour a stronger regular coffee into a small cup.

Sunghwa takes a sip and pretend it tastes like what he wants.

The two of your grin at each other, before anything else happens, the door bursts open.

“Gray?” a tall man scans the café, his eyes stopping on you.

The ad exec scowls into his cup, his expression immediately closing up.

“What.”

The tall man is clearly fighting with himself to keep his cool.

“We’re going to be late,” he calls out from the door, probably hoping it will make the man hurry up.

Sunghwa fleetingly closes his eyes, then smiles at you kindly.

“We have a meeting with a client,” he curtly explains, “I may have made him believe I was just stepping in for a take-away.”

You stifles a giggle at the tall man’s annoyed expression.

“My co-worker,” Sunghwa carries on, motioning to the guy, “Hyuk-woo.”

Hyuk-woo nods in the general direction of you and snaps.

“You either coming or I’m driving away.”

“Ever the charming one,” Sunghwa mutters, as if he’s qualify to be the one to judge, and unwillingly picks his jacket and coffee up, “Sorry, business calls.”

“Sure,” You chirp, getting a feeling that Hyuk-woo automatically dislikes you. When Sunghwa isn’t looking, the man gives you a look one normally reserves for something that sticks to their sole.

“I’ll see you later?” You ask.

“You can bet,” the man promises from the middle of the café, “But work on your espresso,” then he walks out.

You grin the goofiest grin ever and watches with a dream-like expression Hyuk-woo snapping something at Sunghwa and the other throwing his suit jacket at him.

Jessi has been out from a cold for about a week now. Normally you would be lonely without her but Sunghwa starts to visit the café every morning since his first visit.

Today, Sunghwa walks in wearing yet another one of his never-impeccable black suits, carrying a small tablet, stunting straight to the counter and spend minutes chatting with you before he ordering his espresso. He never orders anything else, and you become a master of espresso or at least, you masters the coffee Sunghwa wants.

“Your espresso,” You smile, putting a cup in front of Sunghwa.

Instead of taking a sip like any other day, the man’s eyes bore into you.

“You want to see a film tonight?”

You pale. Is the man finally asking you out?

“Su-sure,” You reply but didn’t sound half sure.

“I’ll pick you up at six. That’s when your shift ends, right?”

You nod your head slowly.

“I hope you’ll be more talkative and enthusiastic then.” Sunghwa says before leaving the café shortly afterward.

You try to be enthusiastic but you feel more like nails-biting nervous.

The closer to six, the more nervous you become. What film are the two of you even going to watch? You probably can call Sunghwa. Maybe it’s best if you call Sunghwa and ask if you can perhaps postpone the date for the next day, when you are be able to prepare yourself.

When the clock shows five thirty, you feel sick. By the time six comes around, you’re practically ready to walk out.

By six thirty you’re nauseous, cold and alone in the café garden. The passer-byes keeps giving you pitying glances.

By seven you have to work up the courage to text Sunghwa where he’s at.

By seven thirty you’re close to tears, because how stupid could you get, thinking that the man would actually wish to spend time with you. You should head home before you make a public spectacle of yourself.

“___!” You hear someone calling out your name as you’re leaving the garden.

Without much conviction, you turn towards the voice.

There is Sunghwa, standing in the middle of the road, looking frustrated. Why on Earth is he frustrated, when it’s you who just spent hours waiting for him?

“Where have you been?” You breathe out when Sunghwa approaches you.

“I’m sorry,” Sunghwa snaps, “I mean, I’m sorry,” he add more softly when he notices how you take a step back, “My idiot of a partner made a client cancel our contract. My boss sent me to pick up the pieces.”

“He sent you to placate a client?” You bit your lip to prevent a smirk from forming.

“Yeah, shocking, I know,” Sunghwa rolls his eyes, “But I can be very placating if I want to,” he smirks, his eyes flash, his hand shoots out for your hand.

Before you can even look up, you’re envelope in Sunghwa’s arms and your mouth is cover by another pair of lips, harder and more demanding. Your knees turn into jelly and if it’s not for Sunghwa’s surprisingly strong embrace, you will have lost your balance.

“You feeling appropriately placated now?” Sunghwa murmurs into your lips, “Or shall I re-start the negotiations?”

You want to taste Sunghwa’s lips again and just because you could, you did your best to appear unconvinced.

Sunghwa kisses you again, more leisurely, his hand travelling up and down your back and an observation forms itself in your head that it’s an awfully straightforward way of kissing someone you have never even pecked before. But you’re far from complaining.

“Ready to go?”

You nod, your cheeks flushes pink.

You let Sunghwa steer you to his car park –two streets away. It’s a sleek black Audi and even a laic like you have to blink in appreciation.

“I know, it’s dreadfully boring,” Sunghwa opens the door for you, not sounding one bit perturbed by it.

“I think it’s cool,” You hastily protests.

“It doesn’t take much to impress you,” Sunghwa observes starting up the engine and you almost swallows your own tongue. Are you that transparent that the man could tell you would be impressed with a one-wheeled bike at this point?

“I was just being polite,” you say simply.

“Keep it up then.”

The negotiations with the client must have gone Sunghwa’s way, because he’s in a very good mood on the ride to the cinema. He listens to your summary of your shift, laughs at the right moment. Shockingly, Sunghwa shares some information about his own work. He’s to prepare an alternative energy campaign and he’s already envisioning a catastrophe. According to him, he works with idiots who cannot even sell the newest IPhone.

Sunghwa’s pleasant mood evaporated when a guy at the cinema tells him he couldn’t exchange you guys’ tickets for the ones in a later time, because it’s a full house. He tries some civilized explaining, then turns to quarrelling with the manager and in the end stalks out of the cinema, leaving it to you to apologize on his behalf.

You scurries after Sunghwa, afraid he may just abandon you here. You sigh in relief when you spot Sunghwa smoking next to his car.

You didn’t even know the man smokes.

“Done battling your eyelashes and wiggling your tail?” Sunghwa snaps coldly as he approaches you.

“Excuse me?” You stop at your track.

“Never apologize for my actions,” Sunghwa spats, “It’s hardly your place to do so.”

“What on Earth do you mean?” Your lips turned numb, “Not my place?”

“I know you could walk into a room and melt the toughest iceberg,” Sunghwa throws the cigarette away, “But some rooms are just not worth it. Don’t waste your charm on them, just because I pissed them off. If they decide to take offense, it’s their damn fault.”

Suddenly, Sunghwa seems bigger than he really is. His mouth kind of curl, as if in distaste, and it went against everything you know about the man through conversations and observations for the past week.

Sure, Sunghwa has a talent for pissing people off. But you always figure that the man didn’t realize it until it was too late, did he? Why did Sunghwa decide to act like that now?

“My charm,” You stupidly answer, too deep in your own thoughts about Sunghwa.

“Please,” Sunghwa gives out an impatient snort, “It’s cute, you know it, how you shakes your head and flips your hair and flushes up. I like it,” he stalks toward you and put his hand on your cheek, “A lot. But a cinema manager you will never see again in your life? Why would you try to woo him?”

Sunghwa is telling you that he thinks you’re cute and uses that to your advantage. You feel sick. You didn’t truly comprehend Sunghwa’s words, but you can hear the tone of his voice and you didn’t like it.

“I’m not trying to woo you,” You whisper, despair welling in your chest. You suddenly feels like you need to run away but Sunghwa has already somehow manage to position himself so that you’re stuck between him and the car.

“I certainly hope so,” Sunghwa’s tone soften as he moves his hand down your neck, “Not to mention it would be completely unnecessary,” he smirks, leaning towards you so that his lips found themselves next to your ear, “So what do we do with such a promising evening?”

Seconds before Sunghwa is ready to send everyone to hell, including you, and now he’s talking about a ‘promising evening’. Could he be any more unpredictable?

“Um…” You turn your head down so that Sunghwa isn’t touching you anymore, “Why don’t we look for another cinema?”

Sunghwa makes a face.

“I’m fed up with them,” he declares, “But maybe we can find a film worth watching at my place. My friend keeps bringing me them and I just stuff them in boxes.”

You take a deep breath trying to understand exactly what is going on here. First, you were lectured, accused of acting slutty, and now you’ve been invited to the man’s place.

“Why not?” You attempt a nonchalant shrug, “It’d be awful to let your friend’s good intentions go to waste, wouldn’t it?” You reply.

“That’s what he’s been telling me.” A smile spreads on Sunghwa’s face.

On the ride to his place, Sunghwa is acting nice again. Desperate to improve the mood, you start a discussion about Sunghwa’s favorite films, and while it quickly becomes apparent the man is no cinema aficionado, you’re happy to listen to Sunghwa’s film-related stories and add his two pennies worth of sarcasm or amusement.

Sunghwa pulls into an underground parking of an apartment building. Too engross in your conservation with Sunghwa, you long ago lost your sense of direction and have little idea in which part of Seoul you are at. There are not many other cars here and there’s little to occupy your thoughts with while Sunghwa lead you to the elevator.

“You live on the top floor?” You asks when the man presses the right button.

“It has the best view.” Sunghwa says, simply.

And it indeed did.

The view, the furniture and generally everything. You’re standing at the door, gaping, while Sunghwa is taking off his jacket and switching on the lights.

The penthouse is spacious, sparsely furnished and very bright because of the white and silver dominating the décor.

“You have a nice… Kitchen,” You mumbles causing the man to snort.

“I hardly use it. I’m shit at cooking but I guess every house needs a kitchen,” Sunghwa emphasizes his point by taking two sodas out of a fridge, “You okay with a coke? Or shall I look for something stronger?”

“Coke’s fine,” You hurry to assure, “Would you mind if I use the bathroom?”

Sunghwa points you to the right door and you literally bolt. Dear God, did you find yourself a multi-millionaire?

Alright, so technically it wouldn’t take a multi -millionaire to own this penthouse and your relationship with Sunghwa is questionable at best, but you guys are spending time together and damn, did coming to one’s penthouse implies you are, well, ready to take the next step? Considering there hadn’t even been the first one?

You emerges from the bathroom more flush than when you had entered it to discover Sunghwa already set out some snacks and switch on the TV.

“I don’t know what you want to watch,” Sunghwa informs, pushing a box of CDs into your hands, “Just choose something.”

“Do you like romantic comedies?” You ask shyly after going through half of the box. Most of the films only had the premieres in the last six months and you did not have the chance or mind to see them. You’re not picky, but you did want to learn Sunghwa’s taste.

“I don’t really like films,” Sunghwa shrugs, rolling up his sleeves, “But I don’t mind a good comedy,” he smirks in a way that makes it clear that he thinks you’re an adorable kid for appreciation of romantic comedies.

You let it go and selects a Woody Allen film.

“Does Hyuk-woo bring them?” You asks as Sunghwa is putting the CD into a DVD player.

“Hyuk-woo?”

“You said earlier that your friend kept bringing the films.” You point out.

“Hyuk-woo is not a friend,” Sunghwa declares and comes back to a sofa to where you’re sitting, “Move.”

You did move, sighing and shaking your head and wonder for the hundredth time if Sunghwa has any friends at all with his attitude. And what is wrong with you for willingly suffering his gruff company.

But when Sunghwa’s arm encircles your shoulders –all the thoughts flies out of the window. Your maddeningly beating heart knows very well why.

The two of you are halfway through the film when Sunghwa’s hand travels lower, underneath your t-shirt and starts teasing your back. You squirm, giggles and unwittingly presses yourself against Sunghwa, who apparently takes it as a hint that you’re ready to forfeit the film on account of much more pleasant and real activities.

Sunghwa pulls you to himself so that the two of you are chest to back and keeps on nibbling at your neck while his hand sneaks up front, to pull the offending t-shirt up and explore your navel. Having never been an object of such ministrations before, you didn’t even think of protesting, too drunk on the knowledge that Sunghwa is clearly interested in romantically.

And holy shit, sexually.

It hits you hard when Sunghwa’s hand strays to the zipper of your jeans.

“Wa-wait,” you tries to push yourself upright but Sunghwa’s arms prevents it.

You panic and surges forward, stumbling out of the man’s embrace and falling into your knees.

“What the hell is wrong?” You feel Sunghwa’s hand on your back and jerks away for the man’s touch.

“I…,” You rolls over, wincing when your brain registers the ‘I’m hurt’ signal your knee is sending it, “What are you doing?”

Sunghwa puts his elbows on his knees and leans forward so he’s looking straight into your startled eyes.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Your stomach protests.

“I’m a virgin,” You blurt out, fully expecting Sunghwa to tell you to get the hell out. You’re close to tears. Instead of an angry voice telling you where the door is, a pair of arms picks you up.

“Have I scared you?” Sunghwa’s breath teases your ear.

You nod miserably, letting the man’s legs support your weight again.

“I’m sorry,” Sunghwa gently bites your ear, “I didn’t realize I’m in a presence of a virgin,” this time, Sunghwa sounds as if he’s joking, so you smile a bit.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” Sunghwa suddenly flips you over so that he’s hovering over you.

“I-I don’t think I want that,” You say, worryingly, “But kissing is okay,” you hastily add.

Sunghwa chuckles, finding amusement in this whole situation.

“Thanks for permission,” he tilts your face up and literally devours your mouth, covering your body with his own.

In the course of the next few weeks, the two of you starts spending a lot of time together.

Sunghwa wine and dine you at the most expensive restaurants in Seoul. Even with the restaurants that takes months to book a reservation, Sunghwa can easily get a table at prime hour. The man saves no expenses when it comes to you –which you think is endearing because the two of you can eat at the nearest McDonald for all you care. At this point, the man can do no wrong in your eyes.

You learn that Sunghwa makes a lot of weird comments –his way of kidding with a straight face. A lot of people let themselves be fooled by Sunghwa’s I-rule-the-world attitude, but you only roll your eyes and elbow the man. It’s funny in its own way.

You can’t help but wonder what you did with all of your time before Sunghwa came to your life. Sure, Sunghwa’s job keeps the two of you apart sometimes, especially when Sunghwa has to stay late in the office.

However, on some days, like today, you guys would just lounge at Sunghwa’s penthouse, with the man going through the financial reports of the company whose products he is to advertise next, and you’re just surfing on the internet.

“You’re not on Facebook,” you pout after looking up every possible way of writing ‘Lee Sunghwa’.

“Sure I’m not,” Sunghwa didn’t even look up from his papers, “I’m here.”

You snorts.

“It means you don’t exist,” you snickers.

“Some men would pay billions for that,” Sunghwa smirks back, “Be glad, you have the most interactive imaginary friend then.”

You ignore Sunghwa’s comment and starts a message to Elo, describing your date with Sunghwa at a French restaurant just last night. Lately, you find yourself talking to anyone about Sunghwa –that includes telling Jessi also.

Jessi is suspicious of Sunghwa –pointing out the obvious differences between the two of you. One thing, your age difference. Sunghwa is turning 30 this year while you’re only 22. She warns you again and again about not trusting Sunghwa too much.

She did take you by surprise when she asks if Sunghwa has introduce any of this ‘adult’ friends to you. You just whisper ‘No’ and Jessi makes an even bigger deal out of that. Her reason being that if the two of you are serious, shouldn’t he introduce you to some of his closest friends? Unless the two of you are not serious.

The thought did bother you a little. Okay, it bothered you a lot. You have yet to meet any of Sunghwa’s friends –the only person you know of is Hyuk-woo and Sunghwa claims the man is not his friend but merely a co-workers.

“Sunghwa.” You mindlessly say aloud as you work your way onto Sunghwa’s knees.

“What?” The man lazily pets your hair, not taking his eyes from the papers he’s currently going through.

“What are your friends like?” You ask, “I’d like to meet them.”

The man didn’t as much as stir.

“Why?” he finally asks after finishing a page.

Close. At least Sunghwa wasn’t against the general idea.

“Because it would be nice.” You admit because it really could be.

The might have gotten Sunghwa’s attention because the man lay the papers down to look at you, “And why would that be nice?” Sunghwa asks you. You can tell he’s getting into one of his mood by the tone of his voice.

“It’s just that…. I want to get to know you better… and Jessi says that I could by getting to know your friends.” You mummers, eyes determinedly fixate on a faraway TV.

“You already know all that you need to know about me.” Sunghwa chuckles, his mouth descending onto your neck.

“But I would like to meet them regardless. Why don’t you want to introduce me to them?” You unwittingly pushes your body away from him.

Sunghwa seems a little taken back by your behavior but the shock look is shortly replace by a displease look. You sense an argument coming along. However, you don’t know why the man would be so upset about it.

“You don’t need to meet any of my acquaintances.” Sunghwa’s tone is sharp, suggesting that this is the end of the discussion.

However, you just didn’t feel like giving up. The man is definitely hiding something from you, “Why not, Sunghwa?” You ask.

Sunghwa gives you a hard look in return and you prepare yourself for his wrath. However, his cell phone begins to ring before he can say anything else. The man glances down at his phone –checking to see if he needs to take this call.

Sunghwa snarls at the caller before answering, “What?” He asks the caller and you can’t help but feel sorry for the person on the other line.

“Right now?” Sunghwa asks impatiently, “Okay.” He says before brushing you off as he walks away.

Sunghwa emerges from his office well dressed as he puts on his watch.

“Business calls,” Sunghwa says as he moves swiftly to the entrance of the penthouse.

Before you know it, Sunghwa is out the door.

The tension in the room is clear as the man sitting in the center of the square conference table squeezes his fist. No one says a word as he slams his fist on the table.

“Chill out, Jay,” Simon, who is sitting on Jay’s left side tries to appease him.

Uncommonly relax, Simon stretches his legs under a table, “So Mr. Walking Fiasco Yang Hyun-suk has found himself a whore to testify. What do you think a whore can testify? The thickness of our fucking cocks?”

A tall, blonde by the name Loco sitting next to Simon coughs to mask his chuckles while the two people on the opposite end glares.

“Yours, probably,” Sunghwa, sitting on Jay’s closest right deadpans without missing a beat.

Simon rolls his eyes.

“Funny how no one has info about yours,” Simon mutters, “Got something to hide?”

“You don’t want me to react to that,” the other growls.

“Then fucking don’t!” Hoody, sitting next to Sunghwa losses her cool.

The cultured lawyer always have hard times dealing with this particular trio. After this little outburst, she clears her throat and carries on, “Apart from the semantics,” she glances at Simon with something akin to revulsion, “I agree with Simon. We don’t know who that prostitute is, what she knows or if it can even be used by YG.”

“She wouldn’t have run to him if she has nothing to spill,” Sunghwa cuts in.

“I realize that,” the lawyer nods, “I’d assume she could probably verify few associations or maybe meetings. You never allow any of the entertainers to be present at the talks, right?”

“Of course not,” Sunghwa sounds vaguely offended. The lawyer has never stop treating him like a dim-witted with minimal life expectancy.

“Then what could she possibly be a witness to?”

“Maybe she saw someone getting killed,” Loco proposes, “Only then she wouldn’t be such an asset for YG. I mean, the fucking guy is set on proving we work together. A testimony to a murder could hardly guarantee that, unless we’ve shot someone together I can’t remember.”

“With your memory…”

“You’re here for comic relief or what, Simon, because if so I know better comedians,” Sunghwa turns to the older man.

“Relax,” Simon says mock-soothingly, “Or you’ll pop a vein,” he smirks, stroking his own silky cheek, “We’re all worried, but Hoody’s right. We need more details before we can begin to panic.”

“I didn’t say that,” the lawyer interjects tonelessly, “Of course, YG can drag you to court right now, just to show you he can – he seems a type that would lose an advantage of the element of surprise simply to boost his confidence – but with one witness he will only get embarrassed. And compromise the prostitute,” Hoody explains with a confidence of a woman who win cases despite testimonies of four witnesses.

“We don’t want to land in court because of a fucking whore,” Jay reminds them all sourly, “She’s to get silence before.”

Hoody didn’t oppose plus it reduces her working hours considerably.

“She’ll be, rest assured,” Simon prefers this method to legal process too, “Ugly Duck and Pumpkin have already been told to keep their damn eyes and ears open. Any whore who’ll be more curious than expected will be taken care of.”

Sunghwa didn’t seem convince, Loco only shrugs. In his opinion, it was exactly what people like Ugly Duck and Pumpkin are for.

“She manages to gather information and contact YG without us noticing anything,” Jay spats at everyone in the room, “You’re all personally responsible of finding the whore. I don’t care how you do that,” his eyes hardened.

#khh #khh scenarios #khh scenario #Khiphop #khiphop scenarios #khiphop scenario #kiseok scenarios #khiphop smut #gray #GRAY scenario #gray scenarios #AOMG #team aomg #aomg scenarios #aomg scenario #aomg imagines #Jay Park #jay park scenarios #jay park scenario

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their-destinys-writer · 7 years

Text

Caged - Chapter 8

Rated: Teen

Chapter: 8/?

Word Count: 8,033

Ao3 / FFnet / Wattpad

Chapter 8 - Damage Control

A bright light shone over Marinette’s bed, but that wasn’t what woke her up. Even though the girl turned off her alarm and decided to ignore it, her phone kept making incessant noises. Marinette pulled her sheets over her head, trying to drown it out.

It didn’t work.

With a loud groan, the girl threw the sheet to the side, grabbing the cursed brick.

“What’s making so much…noise…” she trailed off, jaw hanging. A hundred and thirty-seven messages! From who?!

She immediately pressed the texting application, and saw tons of messages from unsaved phone numbers. Strangers. She scrolled down, looking at the previews of them.

Hey, I dont care wut ppl r saying…

You don’t deserve wat’s happeni…

Could you tell Chat Noir to visit…

You two are together, aren’t you?

I ain’t believing ur stupid attenti…

Hey, if anyone’s sending you ba…

“Maman!” Marinette ran down to the kitchen, where Sabine had just placed a plate of croissants on the counter.

“What is it, dear?” she asked, startled. Marinette shoved the phone to her face.

“I don’t know any of these people!” she practically yelled in her panic, quickly biting into her lip apologetically. After a quick scolding look at her daughter, Sabine took the phone in her hands to look it over. Marinette started fiddling with her fingers.

“Have you given your number to anyone recently?” Sabine asked, to which Marinette shook her head. The woman sighed before handing the phone back. “We’ll get you a new one when you get off class today.”

“Why is this happening?” Marinette pleaded miserably.

“We’ll figure it out, sweetie, I promise.” Sabine stroke her daughter’s bangs and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. “For now, get ready for school. Okay?”

“Okay…” Although there was a slight sense of panic still lingering, her mother’s warmth helped her regain enough composure to think clearly. Calmer now, she climbed back up to her room, where Tikki was waiting on the desk, munching on a chocolate cookie.

“Wha’ ‘appen’?” she asked with a mouthful of the sweet snack. Marinette went ahead to tell her, giving the phone to her little friend.

“Now my parents are gonna have to change my number. This is ridiculous! How did this even happen?” The designer was pacing around the room at this point, flailing her arms.

“Any idea who it could have been?” Tikki questioned, looking through the different numbers that contacted her charge, her cookie left forgotten to the side.

“It could have been anyone! A friend, a classmate, a client, someone who I don’t know who happened to have stumbled on my number, somewhere.” Marinette let out a loud breath. “This just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm,” Tikki hummed. Marinette’s brows furrowed when she realized the kwami was distracted, her blue eyes squinting at the phone screen. Before she asked, though, Tikki spoke. “There’s a number that sent several messages. And they’re pretty positive, too.”

The girl snatched her phone to read the supposed positive messages. They started at six forty-five. And they were… nice.

Hey. Nice to meet you. Sort of. I just wanted to say you’re pretty brave and cool.

Hey, me again. I saw some people comment that they were going to tell you mean things, so I wanted to tell you to not listen to them. They’re just jealous.

Hey. I must be getting annoying, but the others are probably more annoying. Please don’t listen to them. They’re jerks. I think you’re amazing.

The messages continued in the same manner, telling her to not listen to the others and complimenting her on both her personality and looks. Marinette couldn’t help but smile. There was something about the messages that seemed very familiar.

They reminded her of Chat, when he was not in his pun-loving self. When he wasn’t being so extra. Could it be? She wondered. This person was the only one to keep texting her, so… maybe. The thought was enough to replace her anger with fondness, and motivating her to start getting ready for school.

After finishing up and eating breakfast, Marinette prepared to exit through the bakery. She knew that no matter which exit she decided to take, there would still be reporters, so may as well take the shorter route. Taking a deep breath, she swung the door open and shot right through the horde of reporters standing outside.

Luckily, the traffic light was red, so Marinette was able to sprint across the street and run up the school entrance stairs, skipping a few steps in the process. Reaching the large door, she threw herself in, like she had just reached home base in a baseball game, skidding across the floor. The move earned her a few odd stares from nearby students, but thankfully no comments. Except for one.

“Now that’s what I call an entrance.”

Marinette raised her head and was met by a pair of orange Gabriel high top shoes. She could feel her face becoming hot as her eyes traveled up to meet Adrien’s amused expression.

“Need a hand?” he chuckled, extending his hand towards her. Marinette gulped. Well, at least he found it funny, she miserably tried to comfort herself, accepting his help. “Sorry I didn’t help you this morning, but after yesterday… well, I didn’t wanna make it worse.”

“N-no, it’s fine,” Marinette assured him, dusting off her clothes. “That wasn’t your fault.”

Just then, her phone rang out. It had already made the notification sound several times since she got out of the bakery, but the run had distracted her from them. She was about to ignore it, but another message arrived, which prompted a growl from the girl.

“What’s up?” Adrien tilted his head.

“Somehow, the whole world has my stupid number, and now I’m getting texts like crazy,” she said as she scrambled to get the phone out of her pocket.

“Oh yeah, I noticed it this morning,” the model pointed out. Marinette stopped tapping on her phone to stare at the boy. So he elaborated: “Someone posted it on the Ladyblog forums. I tried to comment, but when I pressed ‘send’, it said the post no longer existed and the forums were closed. I think it’s safe to assume Alya was not happy about it.”

Marinette growled again.

“Good to know the source. Any chance you know who it was?”

“No, sorry,” Adrien responded with a shrug of his shoulders. “Most posters are anonymous or have a username.”

“Greeeaaat,” Marinette groaned. There went her plans on finding the culprit. She looked back at her phone and noticed the most recent message was from the positive person. The possible Chat? She wondered. Without thinking it twice, she tapped on the text.

Hey, again. Just want to wish you a good day in school. Hope people don’t bother you too much.

A smile tugged at her lips once again. She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment, but ultimately deciding on tapping on the response box.

Hi stranger. Thank you for all the positive messages. They have made this morning easier. I don’t know you, but—

“I thought you were irritated with the texts.”

Marinette squeaked and flailed an arm, accidentally hitting Adrien on the face. Who had moved to stand behind her.

“S-sorry, I—” but she stopped, registering something as he rubbed his nose. “Were you reading my text?”

The reaction was instantaneous. The model stiffened, his cheeks turned a rosy color, and his hand went up to the nape of his neck.

“I-I didn’t mean too,” he said quickly, almost mushing the words together. “Sorry, you just looked to happy…”

Marinette blinked. “Huh?”

Adrien cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “Not everyone giving you a hard time?”

“Oh, no,” Marinette shook her head. “There’s this one person who’s actually been pretty cool. They keep telling me a lot of nice things, and… I don’t know… Adrien?” She asked suddenly. Adrien hummed in response. “Can I trust you?”

He smiled. “With your life.”

Marinette returned the gesture and finally voiced what had been in her mind the entire morning: “I think this person might be Chat Noir.”

There was a pause. Adrien arched an eyebrow.

“What?”

“This person keeps calling me stuff like amazing, brave, stuff that Chat Noir has actually called me. It reminds me of how he is when it’s just me, when he’s not trying to impress anybody.”

“I don’t think it’s him,” the model blurted out, narrowing his spring green eyes.

“You don’t know him like I do,” Marinette defended.

“Don’t you think Chat Noir would think it was a bad idea contacting you in his civilian self?”

“Well, Chat has a tendency of being reckless. Not that I can speak much better about myself lately, though.”

“Even so, that seems like pushing it. Wouldn’t he be more… discreet?”

“What could be more discreet that an anonymous text to a number that was released to the public?”

Adrien opened his mouth, but after a moment of hesitation, he closed it. His brows furrowed, something processing in his mind.

“You actually have a point,” he whispered, so low that Marinette almost didn’t catch it. She beamed internally, basking in her small victory.

“Perhaps you should learn to give my chaton a little more credit, Agreste.”

“Your chaton?”

It took her a whole second for the question to properly register. MY CHATON?! Why did I just say that to Adrien?! And why did I call him Agreste?!

“N-not like that!” she hastily tried to correct. “It’s just a stupid nickname, he’s not actually mine. He’s my friend, t-that’s it. I-it’s a joke, but he’s not mine, mine. I-I don’t even know why I said that. We can’t even see each other because of our mess.” What are you talking about?! “N-not like I see you, heh.”

“Actually, father told me not to be seen with you.” Marinette halted her antics to stare at the blond. She expected him to look at least a little upset, but he actually seemed beyond amused.

“Oh,” she uttered. “I…I guess that makes sense. Your father is not one for scandals…”

“Yeah. But don’t worry Prin-uh Mari,” Adrien spoke with a chipper tone, despite the little rain cloud Marinette suddenly felt on top of her. “I’ll still help you through this whole thing and make sure you get off unscathed from this.”

The storm going on in the girl’s heart reached its eye, and a bewildered look took over her face.

“W-wait, I-I thought your father doesn’t want you hanging out with me.”

“Correction,” Adrien placed his hands on his back in mock innocence and leaned towards her. “He said he didn’t want me to be seen with you. Since he was talking about the tabloids at the time, I assume he simply meant in front of them.” He finished his sentence with a mischievous grin Marinette had never seen on the golden boy. He looked so…proud.

It was annoying.

“Since when are you such a rebel,” she crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow.

“Pfft, please,” Adrien shrugged. “I’ve always been a rebel. How do you think I traverse Paris without my bodyguard? This ca-uh-guy is no saint.”

Without meaning to, Marinette groaned. There was something about his current attitude that was so… so… exasperating. It reminded her so much of—

Her train of thought was cut short when she noticed the blond’s expression slightly shift to a warm smile.

“What?” she frowned. Adrien shook his head.

“You’ve just never been like this with me,” he spoke softly. Marinette squinted.

“What do you—”

“MARINETTE!”

The two turned to the source of the call, only to see Alya running their way.

“Girl, please tell me your phone hasn’t been bombarded with strangers,” she pleaded, slapping both her hands on the designer’s shoulders.

“Sorry, no such luck,” Marinette grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” the redhead sighed. “I tried to delete it as soon as I saw it, but it was too late. I spent all morning looking through the forums, but—”

The first bell of the day rang, signaling that it was almost time for class. The sound made Alya remember her surroundings and realize Adrien was standing there with them.

“Hey Adrien,” she waved. “Mind if I borrow Marinette for a little bit?”

“Sure, we gotta get to class anyway,” he reasoned as he adjusted his bag. “See you in class, Marinette.”

With one last wave, he headed off to class. Marinette awkwardly waved back, the strangeness of their conversation finally sinking. Did I just have a normal conversation with Adrien?

“Well, see you too,” Alya mumbled. It was then that it dawned on Marinette that Adrien barely acknowledged the presence of her best friend. But the thoughts were cut short as Alya started speaking louder know. “This is becoming a nightmare. I can’t believe somebody actually used my own blog against you!”

“Any idea who it was?” Marinette pleaded to her best friend, as they started walking towards their classroom.

“Not yet,” Alya responded. “But I will find out. Trust me.” The redhead shook a fist in the air. “Ooohhh, and when I do, whoever it was, I’m gonna kick their butt so hard, they’re gonna need a spaceship to get back on Earth.”

Despite the designer’s distress at the moment, the comment managed to get a giggle out of her. Sometimes she forgot how protective her best friend could get when it came to her.

“Anyway,” Alya continued after composing herself. “I got you an interview for an evening talk-show. You think you’re ready?”

Marinette nodded. “I’m ready. I wanna get this over with as soon as possible. ‘Cause it’s seriously getting ridiculous at this point!”

“I know!” Alya nodded vigorously, arms crossed. “Can you believe people have started stopping me in the streets to ask about you?” She changed her voice in mock of random citizens. “Is she with Chat Noir? What does he see in her? Can she contact me to Chat Noir? She’s a nobody! She’s so lucky! Uuuggghhh!”

Marinette winced at the image going through her head. She had almost forgotten the toll that it was probably taking on the reporter, too. And Adrien. And her parents. Uuuggghhh, why did I have to be so stupid?!

“Hey!” Alya broke Marinette out of her self-deprecating internal freak out. “Don’t do that. Don’t beat yourself up. And don’t tell me you weren’t, ‘cause I’d know that face anywhere.” The redhead placed an arm around the bluenette’s shoulders. “Remember: I chose to help you, knowing full well you’re prone to disaster. I knew what I was getting myself into.”

Alya gave her friend a soft, encouraging smile, accompanied by a light squeeze. Marinette returned the gesture.

“Thanks, Alya. So, when and where is the interview?”

“Tomorrow, at the TVi studio building.”

“Wait,” Marinette raised a palm, “you mean in the same building Chat and I messed up?”

“The one and only,” Alya nodded.

Marinette groaned. She had been hoping to avoid the building as much as possible, leave it for last. But from the looks of it, her best friend thought the exact opposite.

“They were the first ones to respond,” Alya responded, as if she could read minds. “Plus, don’t you think it’s kinda poetic?”

“Or a bad omen,” Marinette sighed.

“Chill, girl,” Alya wrapped an arm around the pig-tailed girl as they headed to class. “I’ll coach you tonight, and you’ll do great.”

“Tonight?!” Marinette choked. Tonight it was her turn to patrol. “I-I got stuff to work on. Maybe tomorrow at lunch?”

“Hmm,” Alya pondered. “Fine, but at least practice a little tonight?”

“I will.”

“Great. So,” the redhead’s tone turned to a teasing one, “you and Adrien seem closer lately.”

“Whatta you mean?” Marinette frowned, bewildered.

“Well, first he rescued you from a bunch of reporters, then he went nuts looking for you after yesterday’s akuma attacked, then he defended you against Chloé, his childhood friend, and this morning, I find you guys actually talking,” the redhead concluded.

Marinette’s eyes became round. With all that had been going on in the last few days, she hadn’t noticed Adrien’s sudden closeness with her. It wasn’t like before, where he simply tried to form short, random conversations. He seemed to be deliberately looking for her. Sure, it could easily be attributed to Chat’s slip up about her crush… But what does that mean? Does… Does it mean that he likes me?

Her heart started drumming hard on her chest, but not exactly how she expected it. It didn’t feel right. It felt like it was partly dread making it run. Why would she feel dread? Isn’t this what I’ve wanted this whole time?

“Maybe Chat Noir did you a favor, after all,” Alya continued, patting Marinette’s shoulder. “Maybe Adrien hearing that you like him was the push he needed.”

“I guess,” the blue-haired girl whispered.

“Girl, are you okay?” Marinette raised her gaze to meet Alya’s hazel one. She shook her head and nodded to her best friend, assuring her that everything was great. While the reporter looked unconvinced, she was nice enough not to question as they entered the classroom.

Why do I feel like this? She thought. I should be happy. There’s a chance Adrien is finally seeing me as more than just a friend. So why am I not happy? Why do I feel dread? Am I just scared? It could be… Yeah, that has to be it. I’m scared, which is a very normal reaction. Yeah… that has to be it.

Yet something still felt wrong about her statement. It felt both familiar and alien to her. But as they sat on their desk, Marinette dismissed the thoughts. She already had enough on her plate. She didn’t need to add ‘boy trouble’ into it.

Classes went by as usual. Thankfully, most classmates seemed to have gotten the questions out of their system, making Marinette glad, for once, that she accepted answering them. Of course, things still weren’t exactly the same: someone had still released her phone number for the whole Internet to see.

Although midday arrived pretty quickly for Marinette, what came next, made the next hour feel like an eternity.

The second Mrs. Mendelev left the classroom, everyone started picking up their bags to follow suite. But none managed to even get near the door before Alya ran head first to it and shut it. Everyone stared. Kim and Alix, the only ones who had gotten up already, stopped on their tracks. Alya squinted menacingly.

“No one leaves this room, yet.” Her hazel eyes shifted from classmate to classmate, watching each one carefully. “Alix, Kim, get back to your seats.”

The two didn’t need to be told twice. They weren’t exactly scared of the redhead, but from experience, they knew that when the reporter set her mind to something, it was best to stay out of her way.

“I need to use the ladies room,” Chloé demanded from her desk.

“Your makeup session can wait,” Alya narrowed her gaze to the blonde. Chloé scoffed and crossed her arms, but said no more. Alya took a deep breath.

“I,” she started walking to the front of the classroom, “wanna know who was it.” Her fists landed on her hips.

Everyone stared. Some shifted uncomfortably, confused. Kim and Max exchanged looks. Chloé’s nails started tapping her desk, while her head rested on her other palm. Slowly, Rose lifted her hand in the air.

“Yes, Rose?”

“Who did what?” she pipped up.

“Who put Marinette’s phone number on the Ladyblog forums?” Alya cleared up. A few made noises of understanding, while others groaned in annoyance.

“Oh, this I wanna know,” Alix muttered, punching a fist to her open hand.

“Who cares?” Chloé said loudly. “It’s not like Marinette minds the attention.”

“We’re not getting into this again, Chlo,” Adrien quickly intervened. The spoiled girl scoffed again, but did not retaliate. She didn’t seem too keen on the idea either, considering the entire class ended up yelling at her last time.

“Seriously guys,” Alya drew the attention back to her. “I know for a fact not many have Marinette’s number, and most of them are in this class, and we need to start ruling out people. Anybody who has her number, raise your hand.”

Without missing a beat, almost the entire class raised their hands. All except Adrien, Chloé and… wait…

“What are you doing,” Chloé silently hissed at Sabrina, pulling her arm down. Marinette’s eyes narrowed at the exchange.

Alya seemed to have noticed too, because she stepped up to the girls’ desk, crossing her arms.

“Sabrina,” she said carefully, “do you have Marinette’s phone number?”

“N-no!” she squeaked. “I-I don’t have it. N-never have.”

“That’s a lie!” Marinette suddenly burst, standing up from her chair. Her classmates stared at her in surprise, but she didn’t care. Her vision had turned red. She knew. Oh, she knew. What was more, it wouldn’t be the first time the two girls did something of the likes.

She stomped down to their desk and slammed her hands on it. Alya had even stepped back to allow her the space. Marinette glared down at the blonde and the ginger.

“I know for a fact Sabrina has my phone number, ‘cause she called me a gazillion times when we had to do a project together,” she explained, her bluebells shifting between the two as she spoke. Then, she narrowed them to Chloé. “And we both know she often ends up doing your dirty work…” They glared at each other for a moment, the blonde doing so daringly. Daring Marinette to say it. And said it, she did: “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Chloé gasped dramatically, a hand on her chest.

“How dare you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

“Oh, cut the theatrics!” Marinette snapped. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from you, is that you’re capable of anything. So just admit it.”

There was a moments pause, where the entire class held its breath. It was already pretty common for the two girls to butt heads often, but this was a whole new level. None, not even Alya, had ever seen Marinette so furious.

At last, Chloé huffed.

“So what? It’s not like you mind the attention. I did you a favor.”

“I KNEW IT!” Marinette bellowed, just as she grabbed the blonde from her yellow jacket. “You little—”

“Marinette, that’s enough!” someone grabbed her shoulders from behind, but she didn’t budge. Her bluebells glared daggers into Chloé’s electric blue eyes. For once, Chloé actually looked scared of the small designer.

“You have any idea what I’ve been through this week?!” she continued yelling. “I’ve been publicly humiliated, all my commissions are on halt because of this mess and I almost lost a friend. Why do you always have to go out of your way to make my life even worse?!”

“Mari, stop!” someone else grabbed her by the arm, while the other person slipped his hand around her waist. Together, the two people succeeded in pulling her away from the Mayor’s daughter.

“LET ME GO!”

“STOP IT!”

The second scream came from the very back of the classroom. From the one that the students had learned to ignore, because they didn’t trust her. The other person who had not raised her hand when asked if they had Marinette’s phone number. Lila was standing up on her desk, using it as a stage, glaring at the scene in the front of the classroom.

“Just, stop it!” she repeated. Lila dropped down to the floor and stalked her way to the front. “You shouldn’t waste your time with her. She’s just a bully. She doesn’t deserve your attention.”

“Excuse me,” Chloé drawled to the Italian girl. “Nobody asked for your opinion.”

“I don’t need to be asked to defend someone from a bully looking to humiliate someone else.”

Marinette felt a pang in her heart. She knew exactly the source of her words: Lila knew what it was like to be humiliated by Ladybug. She slumped back to whoever was holding her by the waist, and the person grabbing her arm let go and stepped forward. Alya was now standing in front of her.

“She doesn’t need your help,” she growled. Marinette could only imagine she was still miffed about the girl lying on the Ladyblog. Lila looked the side, and was about to turn away.

“Wait!” Marinette blurted out. The redhead whirled to her in surprise, while Lila looked back at the pig-tailed designer. She took a deep breath. “You’re right.”

“She’s what?!” Alya and the guy holding her said in unison. Marinette felt her head finally clear, and was at last curious about the arm holding her in place. A hand wearing a silver ring.

“You think so?”

“Marinette,” Adrien warned to her ear, his breath making her body shudder and her heart skip a beat. Why did it feel so familiar?

She cleared her throat to respond.

“Look, I know everyone has every reason to mistrust her—”

“That’s an understatement.” Nino crossed his arms, glaring and the exchange student.

“She lied about Prince Ali,” Rose pipped up once again from the back. Looking around the classroom, Marinette realized Alix and Kim had stood up again.

“I say we kick Chloé’s butt. And Lila’s too, for good measure.” There was a murmur of agreement amongst the students, cut off by yet another scoff from the spoiled blonde on the front.

“Papa would get all of you suspended before you can even blink. At least Adrien still has my side, unlike you lot.”

“Chloé, I pulled Marinette away from you because I don’t want her to get suspended,” he corrected her. The girl’s expression deflated. “What you did was awful, and I don’t condone it.”

“Then you and I were doing for the same thing,” Lila spoke softly to the boy.

“I’m not gonna do anything!” Marinette interjected the conversation. “Goal achieved. Would you let me go, Adrien?”

It seemed the model had not realized he’d been holding her this entire time, for his cheeks became the reddest Marinette had ever seen. He quietly apologized and slipped his hand away.

It was probably the cutest she’d ever seen him. Yet… Why don’t I feel more nervous? Am I getting used to him? She shook her head, driving the thoughts away, just as she straightened her clothes.

“Come on, Alya,” Marinette implored, getting both hers and Alya’s backpacks from their desk. “We got work to do.” With a quick glance at Chloé, Lila and Adrien, she turned on her heels and yanked the door open. She didn’t even wait for her friend.

There was just too much in her mind. She was still angry at Chloé, but decided it would be best to not let those emotions take over. The last thing she needed was to become an akuma herself. She was also conflicted about Lila’s defense. Part of her felt like she didn’t deserve it, after how harsh she was to her as Ladybug. But another part of her saw it as a chance. Maybe she could redeem herself, and make sure Lila never lied again.

But above all, Marinette was confused about Adrien. She was still in love with him, she was sure. But there was something off today that she couldn’t quite place. Something both comfortable and alarming. She felt more herself with him, able to keep words coherent. Which was alarming in itself, because: since when? The question had been in the back of her mind since that morning, as much as she tried to keep it out. And she still had no answer for it.

Alya finally caught up to her, asking Marinette if she preferred sneaking to her home instead of the bakery, to avoid all the reporters. Marinette was grateful for her friend not asking any questions about what had just happened, instead offering her calm and serenity. As they both agreed, they headed off to Alya’s apartment for lunch.

It was Thursday evening, and saying Marinette was nervous was an understatement.

Marinette, Alya and Sabine arrived about thirty minutes early to the TVi studio. At first, the pig-tailed girl felt a little embarrassed about having her mom with her, but after seeing how she defended her honor a few times, she felt relief. It gave her a sense of security.

Once at the studio, they had time to familiarize themselves with some of the crew members, and as a plus, they got to see how the host treated his guests. So far, he seemed like a decent guy. But so was Nadja with her, until recently.

After a few minutes, they separated, Alya to speak with a few other crew members and Sabine to call Tom, updating him on everything in the studio. Meanwhile, Marinette stayed close to the stage, focused on the interviews happening before hers.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” a tiny voice came from her purse. “You can do this, Marinette. You’re ready.”

Marinette smiled. “Thanks Tikki.” She took a deep breath, and started talking more to herself than to her kwami. “I can do this. It’s a piece of cake. I’m ready for this. It could be worse. It can’t get any worse.”

“Hey, Princess,” a cheerful voice purred behind her.

Marinette screamed, raising her arms and a leg defensively. A move that earned her a snort from the stray. Who was not supposed to be there. Again.

“Chat!” she reprimanded, taking a quick glance at her now-closed purse once her initial shock ceased. “What are you doing here?!”

“Nice to see you too,” he retorted with a smirk, hands behind his back. “Looks like we’ve been tricked again,” he leaned towards her. “We really need to work on our communication skills.”

This can’t be happening!

“Hey, don’t worry,” a clawed hand warmed her shoulder. Wait… Did I say that out loud? “We got this.”

She looked up to his beaming face, and a sense of security rushed through her. Well, he was her partner after all. Marinette returned the gesture and gave him a determined nod. The move relaxed the cat, but almost immediately, the same hand went up to the back of his neck.

“Uh, while we’re on the subject of tricking, you should probably tell that Adrien guy when you have interviews, too,” he said, nervously. Marinette’s brows furrowed, and Chat quickly continued. “I-I mean because, uh—if, um, they trick me like this, they could do the same to him, and—uh—I-I’m sure you don’t want that happening. Right?”

The moment the words registered, she stopped questioning his strange stammering and a sudden panic overtook her thoughts. A gasp escaped her lips, hands going up to her hair.

“They’re gonna drag Adrien into this!” she burst, teeth clenching. “They’re gonna be all over him! Oh no, and they’re gonna make him so uncomfortable! He’ll never, ever, ever, ever speak to me again!”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Chat reached out for her wrists and slowly brought them down. “Everything’ll be fine. And I’m sure there’s no way Adrien could think any less of you. I know I wouldn’t.”

The simple gesture was enough to calm her nerves, and just as another smile was tugging at her lips, a loud clearing of someone’s throat popped the bubble Marinette hadn’t noticed the two of them had created between themselves. She hadn’t even noticed when Chat’s hands had slid down to hers.

The two quickly let go, turning to Alya. Marinette gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of her head sheepishly. Next to her, Chat awkwardly waved.

“What are you doing here, cat-boy?” Alya reprimanded, fists on her hips.

And there he went again, with his hand on the back of his neck. A move that just got cuter each time he did it. Wait, cute? What do you mean cute? Marinette berated herself.

He’s cute when he does that. Can’t deny it, a voice in the back of her mind responded.

Yeah, if by cute you mean silly and ridiculous, yeah he’s cute, she tried to reasoned. But it brought no comfort. In fact, it brought the exact opposite. This wasn’t exactly news; she had admitted his good looks just a couple of days ago. Why did it feel different then?

“Marinette, you’re up in like five minutes. You can’t go on TV looking flushed,” Alya interrupted her thoughts. Marinette had been so engrossed in her inner confusion, she didn’t register the conversation Chat Noir and Alya had been having. A palm slapped to her cheek.

“Flushed?!” Unlike last time, she could actually feel heat on her round cheeks. Where the hell is this coming from?!

“Relax, girl,” Alya waved a hand dismissively. “You guys will do fine. Just need to go over a few things first.”

The redhead started reminding them of their last conversation about interviews, and Marinette used to opportunity to shoo away whatever those thoughts were earlier.

Sabine looked from afar towards the three teens. She had to admit it was a bit amusing seeing their exaggerated antics for the simplest things. More so, she could already see the closeness between her daughter and a pretty handsome boy. Honestly, she was a little disappointed that it wasn’t Adrien, but this kid treated her with such warmth and respect, she couldn’t help but like him, and hope for him joining the family someday. If he could.

She looked around to see if anyone was aware that a superhero had just walked into studio, when a flash of fuchsia hair caught her attention. There, amongst the crew members was Nadja, holding a microphone, looking for something. Until her brown eyes locked on Sabine’s grey ones.

Sabine huffed and turned away.

“Sabine!” Nadja called. The short woman turned her scowl to the reporter. She could tell the look cut through the reporter like a knife, sending cold chills down her spine. Nevertheless, she took a step forward and whispered: “Please…”

“What could you possibly want with my family now?” Sabine said coldly. “Do you want an autograph? Do you want my daughters baby pictures?”

“Sabine, I just wanted to apologize for what happened,” she spoke. Despite trying to keep a determined tone, there was a low shakiness to it. “But you have to understand that it’s my job.”

“Don’t give me that,” Sabine hissed. “Marinette is not some job. She’s my daughter, your daughter’s babysitter. You took advantage of our friendship and exploited a minor. Do you have no shame? Whatever happened to that young woman who swore would never sell her soul to corporate media?”

“You don’t understand,” Nadja almost pleaded, losing her composure. “It’s my job!”

“She’s my daughter!” Sabine retorted. “Thanks to you, she’s been through so much. She may be strong, but this is not something a normal fifteen-year-old should be dealing with!”

“I could’ve lost my job, you have to understand I have a little girl to feed,” the reporter continued trying to justify herself.

“Either way, you lost a babysitter,” Sabine scowled. Nadja took a step back.

“What?”

The small woman took a deep breath. “Nadja, you’re no longer welcomed in our home, and I will no longer allow Marinette watch over Manon,” she declared. “I am so disappointed in you,” Sabine whispered sadly and walked away towards her daughter, leaving a defeated looking Nadja.

As much as she loved her old friend, Nadja had crossed a line, and she wasn’t willing to forgive so easily.

Marinette tried her best to hide every time she shifted uncomfortably. She was too conscious about the fact that everyone, both the crowd and the cameras, could see every one of her movements.

But she had to get through it, one way or another.

I’m Ladybug, dammit, she repeated for the hundredth time already. I can do this.

“We go live in three, two…” the man behind the camera raised an index finger to signal the one, and then pointed to the host. The crowd started applauding as one of the cameras panned around the studio, and other two moved around the front of the stage, focused on the tanned man behind the desk.

“Welcome back to The Evening Show with Kudret, and we’ve reached our segment of the special interview of the night. Now, I’m sure most of you have dreamed of being saved by one of Paris’ own heroes, Ladybug and Chat Noir. But what are the odds of one of you saving them instead? For one civilian, the answer is two! Ladies and gentleman, give it up for The Girl who saved Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, accompanied by none other than superhero Chat Noir!”

A sign lit up with ‘applause’ written on it, and the crowd released the excitement they had been holding for a few minutes already. Marinette tried to make her smile as genuine as possible, but her mind kept travelling back to her amazement in all this. It boggled her how scripted the show was, despite being live. On the armchair next to her, Chat Noir enthusiastically waved. Pfft, leave it to him to show off.

“So tell me Marinette,” the man continued as the clapping died down. “How does it feel to be known as a hero?”

What an ironic question, Marinette thought, fighting back a laugh.

“I wouldn’t call myself a hero, Kudret,” she responded flawlessly, channeling her inner Ladybug. “I only happened to be at the right place, at the right time.”

“And Chat Noir, did you ever think you’d be saved by a civilian?”

Chat Noir blinked. It seemed that he had been distracted by something, so Marinette widened her eyes a little, in warning.

“Oh, well,” he shook his head, “I believe any civilian has the ability to be a hero. Of course, I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s very dangerous. Best leave it to the professionals.” He pointed a thumb to himself, and Marinette resisted the urge to groan. Rule number one: know when to stay quiet.

“So, I must ask: rumors have been going around that you two know each other more than mere acquaintances; how true is that?”

The designer could feel a sliver of panic rise up her throat. She took a deep breath. Rule number two: control the stammering.

“We actually don’t know each other that well,” she responded, once again almost effortlessly. “It’s just very easy to interact with someone who has a mask and you think you’re not gonna see again.”

The first two minutes were actually pretty pleasant. Kudret was polite enough to ask proper questions. Most of them could be responded with either the truth or the story the two teens cooked up with Alya. But alas, it was not to last.

“So a few things came out on your interview in FMi last Monday, where Chat Noir mentioned that you like someone called Adrien, and from what our sources have gathered, you are classmates with none other than fashion icon Gabriel Agreste’s son, Adrien Agreste. Is he the boy Chat Noir was talking about?”

Moment of truth. Let’s see if I can pull this off.

“You know,” Marinette started, appearing amused. “This is all just one big misunderstanding. And I think I know how it happened.”

And she started telling the lie they had come up with, about Chat mistaking her love to the Gabriel brand. The words came out so smoothly, she almost believed it herself. Which she took as a good sign of her acting.

“That conversation makes so much sense now,” Chat feigned surprise. Not that the crowd knew that. “I was wondering why you kept talking about his clothes. I thought you just liked his sense of style. Should’ve recognized that star-struck look after seeing your reaction the first time you met me.”

Unexpected to Marinette, Chat Noir wiggled his eyebrows. The hand holding on to her purse tightened, as she fought back a groan. She strained a smile.

Rule number three: no bantering.

“Yeah,” she said through clenched teeth. “I was pretty star-struck the first time we met. Just like any other person.”

“You should have seen her, all excited because she was gonna work with ‘the great Chat Noir’,” Chat started flexing his arms, much like he did in their first meeting. Marinette’s other hand flew to the strap of her purse, holding it tightly. He’s never gonna let me live it down, is he?

“Well, how often does a hero ask for your help, right?” she laughed nervously.

“Wait, hang on a second, when did you two actually meet for the first time?” Kudret intervened, his brown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm the moment he noticed he may actually get exclusive information.

“We met long before Entangler,” Chat started. “I believe the owner of the Ladyblog mentioned it in her article about the first time she rescued me.”

“That’s right,” and Marinette went on to tell the television host the story of The Evillustrator. Or at least the civilian version, where she wasn’t Ladybug.

“And does this boy still like you?” Kudret pushed this time. And it was a question that had never occurred to her. Did he? She never asked Nathaniel. She had thought it would be easier for him if she just pretended she didn’t know. Less awkward.

“I-I don’t know,” she confessed. What else am I supposed to say?!

“Let’s not get off topic here,” Chat suddenly cut in, rescuing her from what was about to be another disastrous moment with the press. “The real story here is how Marinette is a total fangirl.” Scratch that. “I mean, seriously, seeing her swoon about her idols, including me,” he added with another wiggle of his brows, “it’s probably the side of her I’ve seen the most.”

I swear to God, I’m gonna—No, Marinette mentally tried to calm herself. I can’t do that. It’ll only make it worse. Just follow his stupid lead.

“I guess I overreact often,” she said, doing her best to keep a neutral tone.

“Oh, I think we all know that already,” Kudret laughed. “Well, we need to take a short break, but stay tuned for more on The Evening Show with Kudret.”

The applause sign was lit up once again and a camera panned away from them.

“Cut!” the man behind the nearest camera yelled. A murmur rose up in the crowd, while Kudret turned to the interviewees.

“Thank you so much for your time,” he extended a hand to the two of them. “You did great. You have no idea how good this was for the ratings.”

“It was our pleasure,” Chat responded, shaking the man’s palm. “Unfortunately, we need to be on our way now.”

“Of course. I wish you two the best of luck.” The man winked, making Marinette almost choke with her own saliva.

“Oookay, good night,” she said with a tremor in her voice, scurrying off the stage to the back rooms, closely followed by Chat. When they reached and emptier area in the back rooms, near a clothes rack, they stopped.

“That went well,” he grinned, despite Marinette’s unamused look.

“Yeah, for you,” she mussed.

“Come on, you gotta admit looking star-struck helps dissuade suspicion.”

“At the cost of my dignity?” Marinette crossed her arms. Chat’s grin turned into a sheepish one.

“Too far?”

Marinette sighed. “Let’s just say that I had to fight every fiber in my being to stop myself from blurting out that you like Ladybug just to embarrass you.”

Chat Noir was taken aback, but then smirked. He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was, it was drowned by something else.

“Is it true?!”

The two teens jumped at the sudden outburst from an unknown voice, turning to see a man holding a camera, jumping from behind the rack with the colorful outfits. Marinette and Chat Noir stared wide eyed at the man, frozen.

“Chat Noir, are you really into Ladybug?”

This cannot be happening! A million thoughts ran through the girl’s head. A million emotions crossed her face in less than a second. But the top one was definitely anger. Anger with such imprudent people. Anger at the way her life had turned upside down. Anger at the lack of privacy. Anger at not being able to have one stupid conversation with a very dear friend.

“OH, COME ON!” she bellowed suddenly, making Chat take a step back and stare at her. It just occurred to her she hadn’t shown her temper in front of him as Marinette, but at the moment, she didn’t care. This is ridiculous!

The man, though, didn’t seem bothered by her outburst. In fact, he looked… delighted. Like his day (or his paycheck) had just been made.

“Does she know?” he prodded, ignoring their glares.

Marinette growled loudly. She was about to grab the guy from his shirt, much like she did the previous day with Chloé, but Chat grabbed her arm before she could.

“We just finished an interview with you people. What more do you want!” he growled dangerously.

“But is it true?” the man ignored Chat’s comments.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!”

The three of them jumped and turned towards the voice. Standing close to one of the entrances to the room, there was a woman, completely clad in black, and what looked like a rectangle over her eyes, similar to the effect used on television to censor people’s faces. Her short hair and full lips were a bright shade of green.

“You will no longer hurt Marinette,” she pointed at the paparazzi with what looked like a news microphone, with a picture of a purple butterfly on the carton decorating it.

An akuma.

“Get behind me!” Chat Noir instructed, stepping in front of Marinette. For the paparazzi, though, it was too late. The woman had shot a green beam from her microphone that hit him directly in the face.

“I can’t see anything!” the man said, but his voice was not the same. He sounded like he had a voice modulator. When he turned to them, both teens jumped, for his face was distorted by pixels. Not horrifying, but… weird.

“You are now censured,” the woman said as she swiftly walked towards them.

“Is that your name? Mrs. Censor?” Chat Noir mocked, hands steady on his weapon.

“No,” she stopped, standing tall before them. “I’m Damage Control, and I’m here to fix what we destroyed.”

“We?”

“Marinette,” she extended her microphone to Chat Noir, “I will fix your reputation, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Why would you care about—” but Marinette cut herself off, as the gears clicked in her head. “Nadja Chamack?”

“Don’t be bemused, sweetie,” she said with a dark tone. “It’s just the news.”

Just then, she waved the microphone and shot another green beam, this time towards Chat Noir. Luckily, his cat reflexes didn’t fail him, as he deflected it with his staff just in time. She shot him several more times, forcing them to keep stepping back, outside of the room. They were back at the large area with all the lights, cables and other recording equipment. Which worked as a disadvantage for Chat.

In his attempt to keep moving backwards without looking, he tripped on one of the cables, making him miss a shot and getting hit on his hand. The move made him drop the baton.

“Stop!” Marinette stepped between them, with her arms extended. “If you want to hurt him, you’re gonna have to go through me.”

Damage Control sighed. “Mari, Mari, Mari,” she lamented, pacing around while she fiddled with the bottom of the microphone. “I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but,” she stopped to glare at the girl, “so be it.”

Before the two teens realized what was happening, the akuma pulled a cable from the bottom of the microphone and tossed it around Marinette. The designer became paralyzed, with her arms stuck to her sides. Immediately, Damage Control threw the other end over a beam on the ceiling and pulled the girl up, her feet dangling in the air.

She was stuck.

#Caged ML #ML fanfic #Marichat #their-destinys-writer #Miraculous Ladybug #Ladybug #Chat Noir #Marinette #Adrien #ao3 #ffnet #wattpad #Chapter 8 #Post

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