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anime-corner · 3 years

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Clearing It Up

A/N: I'm not so sure if I did well with this one. But!! I still hope you like it, anon! Also, this might have the lowest possible word count that I've made. By the way, really sorry for taking so long, classes have been draining me and.. yeah. Keep safe, everyone!

Sawamura stood with sweaty hands as he looked at you, mouth agape. Oh, how did it even come to this?

• • •

It had been a couple of weeks ever since he asked for your best friend's help to ask you out. Of course, he made sure you wouldn't notice. But, what he didn't know was how perceptive you are, taking note of how your friend would always make up an excuse for you to head home alone or the sudden closeness with the captain. You thought that they probably wanted to keep their relationship a secret, so you shrugged them off and just decided to wait until your friend told you about it. Until they were ready.

But it didn't come. You were still left in the dark. Weeks turned into a month and you were starting to wonder if she even thought of telling you. It confused you, even until now.

"Where are you going, (f/n)? Aren't we supposed to head home together today?" You asked her just as she was about to head out of the room.

"Uh, I… I-- the girls and I have practice today. Yumi-chan told me during lunch. I'm really really sorry, (y/n)-chan. I promise we'll walk home tomorrow!" She shut her eyes, bowing down. You only chuckled at her, patting her on the head.

"It's fine, (f/n). But, you didn't have to lie to me if you're going to meet up with Sawamura-san." You said as you headed outside, stopping when you heard (f/n)'s voice.

"I-I'm not…"

"Yumi asked me if you changed your mind about joining them at the batting center." You turned your head over your shoulder, a smile on your lips, "Well, I should get going. Have fun."

The hallways were quiet and abandoned, not a student left inside their rooms to clean, it was as if everyone finished earlier than necessary. Like it was all staged. Only when you left the building were hushed voices from a distance could be heard, more likely from the clubs situated outside. As you turned right after passing the school entrance, you were greeted by a figure leaning on the bricked wall. His gaze was on the device in his hand before turning to you when he heard footsteps nearing his location.

"Oh? Sawamura-san." He perked up, body straight and eyes staring into your (e/c) ones.

"(y/n)-san." He spoke, hands sweating from nervousness. Today was the day he decided to tell you what he feels. He can't back out now like he did numerous times before because of the same nervousness he feels right now.

"If you're here for (f/n), she'll be down in a minute." You stated

"No, wait. A-actually, you're the one I was waiting for…"

"What?"

"It's, I mean… How should I put this… I-- can you give me the chance t-to ask you out? On a date?" It was quite a sight, seeing the captain of the boys' volleyball team stutter out the words he wanted to say. It wasn't in his character and not once did you see him the way he is now.

"Eh? But don't you like (f/n)? Why are you asking me?" That caught him by surprise. Everything he planned to say was immediately thrown out of the window.

"What? No, I---"

• • •

That's right. The reason why he was in this situation right now was because of him. You misunderstood his interactions with your friend and thought he liked her. If only he made it clear from the start and listened to his friends and fellow teammates' advice to not do anything stupid, then the both of you wouldn't be discussing this right now, with him trying to explain that it wasn't (f/n) living rent-free inside his heart and mind, and with you trying to understand the boy who was doing his best to find words to describe and explain everything. What was there to explain again?

'Don't mess this up, Sawamura! She already thinks that I like you. Not really, I'm not quite sure if that's what she's thinking. But, as I said, don't mess it up!' He remembered the text message he received just before you came into view.

"It's not her…" It was hushed, only within his hearing range. You thought that he just realized the feelings he has for your best friend as you didn't want to be in the middle of a war between confusing feelings.

"I'll head home now. Good luck, Sawamura-san." You began to walk away when a hand gripped your wrist. It wasn't tight enough to hurt but just right for you to stay.

"I s-said it's not her. You're the one I like, (y/n)-san!" You froze. Despite him stuttering over his sentence only once, the way he said it gave an impact on his words that made you listen when he began listing things about you, "You're nice and beautiful and overall amazing. I know that you furrow your brows when you're thinking too much or that you hum every time you think that you're alone. Everything about you caught my attention and so, here I am, telling you that it's not (f/n) that's on my mind. It's you."

"What about (f/n)? And those past weeks that you were together? Surely you weren't just toying with her, right?" You asked, not sure how to respond with the facts the dark-haired captain stated about you. Hell, you didn't even know you did anything when thinking.

"I asked her to help me in asking you out. I have liked you since last year and I didn't know how to approach you without stuttering or getting distracted by you since we aren't that close two begin with." Sawamura confessed, eyeing your expression for any negative reactions from revealing his plan, "So I asked (f/n)."

"I see…"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'I SEE'!!? GIVE THE GUY A CHANCE WILL YOU, (Y/N)?!" (f/n) popped her head from in between the metal gate, her hands on the bars. Her sudden appearance shocked the two of you, turning both of your heads towards her.

"(f-f/n)?"

"Aish! I messed up, didn't I? W-well, it was your fault that I decided to intervene and be the best wingman-- er, woman for my boy, Daichi!" She pushed her hand through the bars, finger pointed at you, "Who in their right mind says 'I see' to a confession huh!?"

"I didn't mean it like that." You pout and at that moment Sawamura was glad you weren't looking in his direction as he was a blushing mess the second his eyes glanced at you when you answered. But he spoke too soon when you glanced at him. Then came the fluttering feeling inside you that you tried so much to push away.

He cleared his throat after he attempted to calm down, "S-so (y/n), will you give this guy a chance?"

After a few seconds dwelling on it, you gave the third year a gentle smile. That fluttering feeling, you concluded, was maybe the same feeling he was feeling, "Alright, Sawamura-san. I'm looking forward to it."

"I won't let you down!" He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. A bright smile on his lips and eyes shimmering with excitement for the next day.

If I showed you the reasons why I fell for you, would you also fall for the reasons why you should fall for me?

"So (y/n), what do girls like?" You choked on your food the moment he asked his question.

"W-what?" You answered after recovering. He shot you with a smile, opening his mouth as his gaze turned towards the sky.

The two of you were eating in front of the gym while the others present were practicing. You asked them to join the two of you but they declined.

"You know, the things girls like. I want to impress someone, kind of. I really like this girl and I thought that giving her stuff that girls like would be a nice way to build up the courage to actually confess." You blinked twice, humming in response. Closing your eyes as you leaned back, your arms as support, you replied with a thoughtful look.

"Well, not everyone likes the same things. For example, some girls would like make-up or parties. Some like playing basketball or being one with the guys. The others just like being alone reading a book while listening to music," He nodded, though you couldn't see so you continued, "It depends on what kind of girl you like. It's a big plus if you're already friends with her since I'm positive that friends share almost everything about them."

"Hmm… How about what you like? I'm pretty sure whatever she likes is the same as yours." You nod, giving him a thoughtful hum.

"Well, if you put it that way-- wait, are you saying that I'm generic?!" You point at him accusingly, feigning a hurtful look at what he was implying.

"Hey, I didn't say anything like that!" You both laugh it off, the other members finding your interactions amusing, "So c'mon, what do you like?"

"I guess I like bush clovers and hydrangeas. And I like to read sometimes, when homework doesn't get in the way," You laugh to yourself, shaking your head. Sugawara's gaze stayed on your figure, "Little kids are cute too, so I like them by default. Oh, and I like watching you play volleyball!"

"Even if I don't get to play?" He raised an eyebrow at you.

"You're a part of the team right? So whether or not you're playing, I'll still come and watch."

"Spoken like a true fan!" He laughed out loud, his voice being music to your ears, as cliché as that sounds.

"Now you're just teasing." You pout, crossing your arms.

"Well, thanks for that (y/n)! I'll head back to class first so I could think of a few things I need to get for her." He gave you a soft pat on your shoulder before stretching his body.

"Right. Good luck with her then! I'm sure whoever she is must be pretty lucky if the Sugawara Koushi's out to get her heart!" You encouraged him despite the growing pain in your heart.

Class dragged on slowly, the walk home was even slower than that. The reality that you gave your crush an advice that would surely impress the girl he likes into winning her heart haunted you. But that's what you get for keeping your feelings from him for six years. A sigh escaped your lips, wondering what'll change starting tomorrow morning.

• • •

It was quiet when you arrived at school the next day, heading inside the building half an hour early like usual. Opening your shoe locker, a note slipped out of it. Picking it up, you noticed the message was actually a passage from one of your favorite novels. A sad smile graced your lips, wishing you weren't just someone to be practiced upon.

“I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who’s ever lived: I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough.”

You pocketed the note, exchanging your outdoor shoes with your uwabaki. Once done, you walked off towards your empty classroom. Sliding the door open, your eyes caught sight of a single bush clover flower on your desk and on closer inspection, another note was attached around its stem.

"You are sunlight through a window, which I stand in, warmed. My darling."

It was starting to hurt you now. But you shrugged it off, having a whole day ahead of you. And you certainly didn't want to spend it by thinking of your feelings for him.

Lunch came as you buried your head beneath your arms. You have forgotten to pack your food before you left home, probably because you were dreading this day. You groaned before raising your head up when someone called for you.

"Hmm? Sorry, what is it?" Turning, it was a classmate of yours whom you often talked to.

"This guy from another class came by and asked me to give this to you." He passed you the plastic wrapped bread, placing it on your hands.

"Oh uh, thanks. Do you think you recognize the guy?" You asked, already having a name and face in mind.

"Yeah, I think it was--"

"Oi Sho, come on! We've got basketball practice, remember?!" Another classmate interrupted, standing just outside the door.

"Ah right, sorry (l/n). I gotta go." Shokichi waved goodbye, rushing off towards his teammate.

"It's fine!"

Looking down at the melon pan in your hand, you noticed another note attached to it, 'Is giving out snippets going to be his thing for the girl he likes?'

"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

You shake your head. Whatever his plan was, it was working. You just hoped that girl would feel the same thing you're feeling once Sugawara shows just how much he likes her.

"Geez Koushi… Don't play with my heart like this if you're just going to love someone else." You whispered to yourself, a sad smile gracing your lips.

• • •

The bell signalling the end of the day rang as you cleaned up your desk, stuffing it inside your bag neatly. That was when you noticed something slip out of one of your notebooks.

Picking it up, your eyes widened at the object in your hand. It was a photograph of you, one you didn't remember when it was taken. You were sitting on the grass by the park, back against a tree and attention on a book in your hand. The words 'At the back' caught your attention, written in a small recognizable penmanship.

"I wish I knew how to quit you. But in vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

You carefully placed it in between your notebooks, making sure it wasn't ruined. Even if he did this out of practice, you wanted to treasure it.

Leaving your classroom and walking down the hall, you passed by the gym. Voices called out to you, turning your head to be met by Nishinoya and Tanaka. Behind them were the other second years; Narita, Kinoshita and Ennoshita.

"Oh hey, you guys needed me for something?" You asked, stopping in front of them.

"(l/n)-san, will you please follow us inside?" Tanaka pleaded, hands clasped on yours as Nishinoya was on his knees, hugging your waist.

"Hey baldy, don't make it sound so weird!" Kinoshita scolded, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"Honestly, we're just here to make sure you don't do anything stupid." Ennoshita said, pulling the two away from you by their collars.

"I… don't really have a say in this, huh?" You sighed, scratching the back of your head.

"Either way, they'll just drag you in." Narita commented.

"Alright, lead the way then!"

Entering the gym, you were met with the figure of Sugawara Koushi. The two second years pushed you closer to him before leaving the two of you all alone. You guessed that they were hiding behind the closed doors, with presumably the rest of the team.

"Koushi, what's going--" You began but was cut off when Sugawara suddenly exclaimed.

"I like you!" His eyes were shut as he bowed down, hands outstretched waiting for you to take them.

"Huh? Is this still part of your plan to confess?" You stated, gaze on anything but him, mostly due to you trying to calm your heart from exploding and the words you wanted to say from spilling, "Because if it is, I think Noya and Tanaka aren't the best choice in inviting her to talk."

"I guess. But it did get you to come, right?” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Of course she does!” His smile returned, even larger than before.

“Suppose so. Though, I’m not quite sure if your plan would work on her…” Sugawara's smile turned upside down, worry painted all over his face.

“What do you mean--”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. This is cute and really endearing but like I said, I’m not generic and she probably doesn’t like the same things as me.” You pointed out making Sugawara chuckle.

“S-so, you mean..”

“Fine, I believe you. Well then, good luck with her tomorrow, Koushi!” You turned to leave, waving your hand lazily.

“Wait, where are you going?” He questioned making you stop.

“Home?” You tilted your head to the side a bit, “Why? Do you still need me for practice?

“Practice?” He stood there confused, “I wasn’t using you for practice, (n/n)!”

“I like you, (y/n). The girl that I was talking about was you all along.” Sugawara laughed out loud, realizing what you were thinking of all day, “If I had known that you would have misunderstood everything I did as practice, I would have told you right from the start!”

“Now you’re just telling me that I’m stupid.” You huffed, a pout on your lips. He chuckled, walking towards you before ruffling your hair.

“My plan did work. I like you, I really do also, if you’re going to be stupid, at least you’re my stupid!” He hugged you, making sure you wouldn't be able to hit him after what he had said.

“Koushi! That’s insulting!” You struggled to free yourself.

“But, what do you say?” You stopped as you looked up at him, a blush settling on your cheeks.

“Koushi--”

“I like you too…” Just then, a message popped up from your phone. Trying to fish for the device while being engulfed in a hug, you noticed that it was from the guy in front of you.

“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

You felt soft lips on yours, just sitting there, unmoving. Shocked, you kissed back after a few seconds, eyes slowly closing as he pulled you closer, if that was even possible considering the little distance left between the two of you. The action only lasted for a minute when two second years decided to interrupt.

"WHOO!! SUGA-SAN, GET SOME!!!" Both of them shouted, before flinching when they felt their captain behind them.

"NOYA! TANAKA!" Daichi shouted, hands on each of their shoulders.

"I swear, these two…" You heard Sugawara whisper to himself, earning him a giggle from you. He smiled afterwards, kissing you on the forehead, holding on to you tightly.

You've been with me since the beginning. Now, I want to see the end with you, a ring on your finger and a lifetime ahead of us.

Azumane Asahi has always been quite the scaredy-cat but when you enter the room, or at least within his field of vision, he runs away instantly. The two of you had always been friends but with the rapid beating of his hearts, the butterflies in his stomach and the blood rushing to his cheeks, he’s afraid he might say something wrong and make you hate him.

To say that you were liked was an understatement. You were as well known as Shimizu, confessions coming in from the left and right. And with every rejection, Asahi’s confidence drops, more so seeing as you two were friends. He wanted to tell you but the words wouldn’t come out of his tongue, stumbling and stuttering. So, he’s only option was to run, hide and escape the possible embarrassment.

• • •

"Asahi-san, you should stop and just tell her!!" Nishinoya bounced around the ace who had a sad look on his face.

"He's right Asahi. You can't hide forever, you know. If you do, then someone else would just snatch up her heart for himself." Sawamura commented, arms crossed as he closed his eyes.

"(l/n)-san also has been asking about you and she looks pretty upset." Shimizu joined in the conversation, informing the small group about what happened earlier today.

"S-she does?" Asahi's frown worsened, his eyes lingering at his feet.

"See? I told you this would happen." Sugawara crossed his arms as well, sighing in dismay. He had told the ace for the hundredth time this week that avoiding her would only be bad for him.

"What do I do now? She probably hates me. No, I c-can't have that!" Asahi panicked, hands clenched on either side of his head.

"Alright big guy, you've got us! So stop worrying already!!" Tanaka patted the giant, a grin on his lips as he thought of a plan, "How about this?"

The group of six huddled closely, earning strange looks from the rest of the team, "What’s going on?" They only shrugged in reply.

• • •

The next day, a smile was on your lips, humming a tune as you skipped through the semi-crowded hallways. Today was going to be a great day, you could already feel it. Suddenly, you bumped into something. Looking up, you realized it was Azumane Asahi. A nervous feeling washed over you as you backed away a bit.

“Asahi! H-hey! Long time no see!” How many weeks has it been since you last saw Asahi? He had been avoiding you for who knows what reasons and the reassurance his friends would give you wasn't helping at all. You wanted to confront him about this but seeing as you couldn't even catch a glimpse of him, you decided to just let him be until he was ready. You just wished you knew what you did wrong.

Apparently, today was that day, “(y/n), can we talk after school?” He rubbed the back of his neck, as equally nervous as you.

“Huh? Oh, uh, sure..?” You answered with uncertainty, “I’ll wait for you outside of class then?”

“Y-yeah. See you then?” You nodded as the two of you parted. You both talked. That's right. ‘Today’s going to be a great day.’

The clock ticked slowly but, you hadn’t noticed. Everything made you busy, the school works, group activities and a few confessions in between the ten minute breaks you had every after class. Finally, the bell rang, you packed your things inside of your bag, waiting outside of your class as planned. A few squeals could be heard from the floor below, you thought it must have been one of first years’ or second years’. But the voices grew louder, it honestly irritated you until a familiar voice called you.

“(n/n)!” Your eyes widened at the owner, breath caught in your throat.

“Kazu! What are you doing here?!” You walked up to him, slapping his arm playfully. A pout on your lips as he only chuckled.

“I told you I’d come and get you right?” He ruffled your hair to which you groaned in frustration.

“B-but won’t you get in trouble?” You asked, ignoring all the whispering that surrounded you two.

“Nah, I actually bumped into your vice principal and asked if I could just fetch you.” He replied before bending down a bit to match your height, “Also, did you notice his--”

“We don’t talk about that here!” You immediately shut his mouth with your hand, eyes gazing around to check if the official was around. A gave out a sigh of relief when you made sure that he wasn’t there before you stiffened when a familiar voice ringed in your ears. You didn’t know why but the tone itself was enough to almost break yours. Almost.

“(y-y/n)?” You and Kazuto turned your head to the side and saw Asahi with the second and third years behind him.

“Oh right! I’ll meet you down in a bit, I just need to talk to Asahi about something.” You averted your attention a bit, gesturing towards the tall male.

“Hmm? Alright, I understand!” He slightly nudged you, winking. You madly blushed at this, fully knowing what he was talking about.

“I-it’s not like that!” He gave the third year a look, muttering along the lines of ‘good luck’ or something else.

“Sorry about that, Asahi. He likes to mess with people a lot.” You nervously let out a laugh, noticing his teammates walked farther away from the two of you.

“It’s fine…” He muttered just enough for you to hear.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” His eyes wandered around, noting that only a few were left roaming the halls before calming his nerves.

“Ah… that’s…” It was silent after that, not quite sure how to start it off.

“Come on Asahi! We already talked about this!” One of them shouted before being muffled by another. You weren't sure who but you were certain that it was Tanaka who yelled.

“Support team?” You asked, a giggle escaping your lips.

“Kind of.” Asahi chuckled, already embarrassed by the situation he's in, “Anyways… Don’t be mad but the thing I wanted to say was sorry. For avoiding you during these past few weeks.”

“Oh that. You don’t have to apologize for that. I mean, I honestly thought that I did something wrong.” You uttered, clasping your hands behind your back.

“No, you actually did nothing. It was all me. I was just scared and decided to run away instead of facing it.” You furrowed at his words, questions running around your head. But the only ones you were able to ask was these.

“Scared? You don’t have to be when you’re with me. Why would I be mad about this?” He inhaled, closing his eyes, mentally preparing for your response.

“Because this is just half of the reason why I avoided you… I like you, (y/n). B-but, you’ve got a boyfriend… Maybe that’s why you keep rejecting their confessions-- Ah! It’s fine though, I understand and I--”

“You’re rambling…” You stated, noticeably seeing him freeze.

“Sorry.” He admitted, a sad smile on his face as he lowered his head, “But I’ve seen both of you for a few days now and I got to say you two look great together.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Asahi.” You announced to him, staring into his dark brown eyes.

“Y-you’re-- He’s not? What about the holding hands then? O-or your interactions with one another? I’ve actually heard a lot about you two.”

“Then you should know that he’s my brother.” His eyes widened at the information. Maybe he could have asked you first before he avoided you.

“If that’s the c-case then… Can I ask you out? On a date?” He questioned, hoping you would say 'yes'.

“Sure!” You beamed, failing to hide the smile on your lips. Not like you wanted to hide it in the first place.

“Are you sure?” Asahi did a double take, surprised that his thoughts were answered, “You’re not afraid of what people will think?”

“I’m sure. So, tomorrow?” You nodded, setting up a date for the two of you.

“Y-yeah!” You began to walk away when he responded.

“Oh, and Asahi,” You stopped after taking the first few steps down, “I like you too. I don’t care what people think because I know that all of it isn’t true. Well, see you!”

“See you…” He whispered to himself, celebrating inside his head. He finally had the girl he liked for so long.

• • •

“So?” Your brother asked as soon as you entered the vehicle.

“Alright… Maybe it was like that.” Kazuto cried victoriously to himself, punching the air and accidently hitting the roof of his car. He paid no mind to it, he was happy after all.

“I knew it! Wait ‘till mom finds out about this!” You groaned loudly, thinking how your day started happily and ended with you annoyed.

Suddenly your thoughts were filled with images of Asahi and his confession, you blushed as Kazuto teased you. You didn't mind, you were looking forward to tomorrow and the days after that. And hopefully, the coming years after.

You make me become the best version of myself, someone who doesn’t care about his own insecurities and who doesn’t take others’ opinions to heart.

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pilmik · 3 years

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No better way to start a writing blog than by writing something completely self indulgent lmao college students this might hit too close to home but in my defense the new sem started and I'm. Mess

Gen: angst ig???some fluff? hurt/comfort? Quite literally just me writing what I want to hear

CW: insecurities, negative thoughts

Wakatoshi loves volleyball

Everyone knows this

Ever since he was little, he's lived and breathed for the sport

There's nothing better to him than the feeling of the ball hitting his hand, the adrenaline rush of a scored point, the satisfaction of a game well won

He didn't get this far on enjoyment alone though

As his s/o, you know this better than anyone, save for his coaches and teammates of course

You know the effort he's put in, you know that for every second he shines on the court in front he's spent hours practicing alone or with his teammates

And he shines on the court

Watching him play will never fail to make your heart stutter and your lungs feel like they're not getting enough air

After being with him as long as you have, you know enough about volleyball to know that Wakatoshi is something special

His speed, his strength, his reliability

No matter how many times you see that spike, the sound of the ball hitting the floor stays deafening

Wakatoshi was made to play Volleyball. It's an objective fact. Sometimes you think that the sport loves him just as much as he loves it

Sometimes, you get so jealous you could scream

one of the perks of being the volleyball captain's s/o is that you always get the best seats

You watch front row as your boyfriend leads his team to victory, and he always leads them to victory.

You watch, time and time again, as he scores the match point, that sharp wham of the ball hitting the court that sings triumph

Wakatoshi isn't the most expressive person. When his team wins a game, most people would write off his impassive face as nonchalance or as vanity, thinking maybe he's won so many times it doesn't feel like anything for him anymore

But you know him. You know that if you look hard enough at the end of a game, you can see a gleam in his eyes. A gleam that somehow means both satisfaction and hunger

Because while at the end of every game means victory, the end of every game also means the start of a new one, a new challenge, a new opportunity to be on the court. He loves every second of it

You know you're probably the worst person on the world for feeling this way about someone you love, but every time you see that gleam in his eyes, any pride and happiness you feel on his behalf is stained with resentment and an envy so bitter it stays on your tongue for days

You've never had that gleam in your eyes. You've never loved something so entirely, so completely as Wakatoshi loves volleyball

You honestly doubt you ever will

It's not like you're talentless or you don't have hobbies, you have the things you're good at and you have the things you like to do but it's not the same

You want so desperately to know what he feels like, to be doing something and to think, I could do this for the rest of my life and die happy

on your worst days, you wonder why he stays by your side at all

You watch him play, surrounded by his court and his team (no the court or the team, his.) And you wonder what he could get from you that he couldn't get from the sting of the ball on his palm, or the squeak of his shoes on hardwood

He's brilliant, wherever he goes be burns so brightly you swear he leaves scorch marks. What could a forest fire possibly want from a candle?

You watch them play a game against some college team, they win straight sets and Wakatoshi dominated the court, scoring a majority of the points. you're quiet on your way home, and he asks if you were bored by the game

You immediately tell him no, because on most days you love seeing him play, and you try and explain how you feel

He doesn't understand what you're talking about, obviously

Contrary to what most people think, your boyfriend isn't stupid or dense. He has trouble understanding different social cues and conceptualizing some of the more complicated emotions other people feel, but he's not an idiot

But these specific insecurities are something he's never had to face. For him, it's been volleyball since the start. His earliest memories are of his father in the yard, tossing a blue and yellow ball into the air while he sits on the engawa, chubby hands holding tight to a pink vabo-chan plush

It doesn't make sense to him, if you don't have anything like that, then all you need to do is find something you're good at, correct? Then you'll be happy

He tells you this, in his usual matter-of-fact way. (you can imagine how that went)

He doesn't understand why your eyes go glassy, or why you tell him you'll be fine walking by yourself for the rest of the way

But he does understand that he's made you upset, and he knows that he never wants to look into your eyes and see tears that he's put there

As he walks back to his dorm, he's wracking his brain trying to make sense of how you told him you felt, and what he said in response

He's still thinking as he enters the doorway, ignoring Tendou's greeting as he neatly removes his runners and puts them away

This, of course, alerts his redheaded friend, knowing Wakatoshi was taught to mind his manners

He leaves whatever he was doing to see him at the entrance, taking in his pinched expression. He knows that Wakatoshi walks you home after every game, and it doesn't take a genius to connect the dots

He quickly presses the pad of his thumb between Wakatoshi's furrowed eyebrows, smoothing the lines there

"trouble in paradise, Wakatoshi-kun? You can't keep frowning like that you know, you'll get wrinkles! Everyone already thinks you're an old man"

Wakatoshi trusts his best friend, even if he teases him constantly. Besides you, Tendou is his main confidant

He explains what happened much like someone would explain a mission report, in perfect unbiased detail. He tell him what you said, how he thought and responded and your reaction. Tendou is always patient with him, giving him his full attention.

After he finishes his story, his friend sits on his haunches in the middle of the hallway for a few minutes, pointer finger to his chin, head cocked and eyes to the ceiling, hmmmmmming thoughtfully

Wakatoshi waits at the entrance of their dorm room until Tendou snaps his eyes away from the ceiling and onto him

"Wakatoshi kun, I'm going to need you to imagine something for me"

His eyebrows pinch together again, but he nods

"Imagine you never played volleyball, you're exactly the same in every way, except your dad never showed you so you never learned how to play. Try and imagine who you'd be"

Wakatoshi tries his best to imagine, he replaces the blue and yellow ball in his memory with a red one, the bouncy kind they sell in bins at the grocery store. He replaces vabo-chan with some kind of stuffed animal wearing a bow

He thinks about school, about going straight home after class is over, and going to the gym only on weekends

He finds he's skipping parts of his life in large gaps, empty spaces he doesn't know what to do with, his future completely blank. It's terrifying.

Tendou must see the dawning horror on his face because he jumps up quickly with a flourish, clapping his hands together once to draw Wakatoshi out of his daydream

Tendou looks at him, smiling and says "y/n-chan doesn't have their volleyball. Most people aren't as lucky as you, finding your volleyball so early Wakatoshi-kun. Some people never find their's at all"

He stands at the entrance quietly for awhile after Tendou returns to his room, thinking about how scary it felt to imagine, even for a few minutes, his life full of the blanks that his sport filled

He wonders how it would be like to have those blanks empty all the time, with not even a clue how to complete them

Swallowing his pride, Wakatoshi realizes he wouldn't be able to live like that. Wouldn't be able to go forward into such unknowable territory, under such impossible odds

He thinks about you waking up every day, seeing your life full of blanks, and still pushing forwards despite it

He doesn't get much sleep that night.

You wake up in the morning to Wakatoshi's text ringtone

7:10am Toshi <3: Call in sick for first period.

7:10am Toshi <3: I am going to pick you up at 8.

7:13am Toshi <3: I will bring you breakfast.

7:27am Toshi <3: Wear a light jacket, it's chilly.

The half of you that's still hurt over yesterday wants to tell him to shove breakfast up his ass, but then you realise something

You stare at your phone, deeply confused

Doesn't he have volleyball practice before school?

You get ready quickly, and sure enough, when you walk out of your door at exactly 8:00, Wakatoshi is there.

He's wearing his tracksuit and runners, and he hands you a paper bag from the conbini. There's an apple, a bag of grapes and onigiri. In his other hand he's holding a warm drink, written on the lid is your favourite, exactly how you like it

"I am taking you to the park."

You tilt your head up at him, confused

"don't you have volleyball practice?"

"I'm skipping. We are going to feed the ducks."

The idea of Ushijima Wakatoshi skipping volleyball practice stuns you into silence, and you simply follow his lead to the direction of the park, you walking and him doing some sort of ridiculous exercise thing that looks like it'd make you puke

When you get there, you're happy to find that your usual bench is empty.

Wakatoshi pulls a water bottle out of his ridiculously-deep men's tracksuit pockets while you take the bunch of grapes out of the bag, neatly dividing it in half. You decide to take the big half of the grape bunch for once, because he was being a jerk yesterday and you deserve to feed the ducks more than he does. You give him his half and you both start feeding the ducks in silence

After awhile, he decides to speak

"Tendou made me imagine something yesterday"

You turn to face him, but he's still looking at the ducks

"he told me to imagine my life if I'd never played volleyball"

He frowns

"he said to imagine everything about me was the same, except I never started playing. I found that it was difficult"

"there were many things I found I couldn't fill in, both in my life and in myself"

"but the worst part was imagining the future. I couldn't imagine a single thing to put in it"

"I wouldn't be able to live like that. To live every day and see blank spaces and uncertainties. It sounds terrible"

He pauses for a moment and you're like :/ wow king thanks for the pep talk

But he takes a deep breath and he continues

"I think, for a person to face that uncertainty and keep pushing forward, they would have to be exceptional"

Your head snaps to look at him so fast you almost get whiplash

Exceptional

There's a word that you've never used to describe yourself

"I think, that if I knew someone like that, I would tell them that they are strong in a way that I doubt I will ever be"

He finally turns to look at you, and you try your best to see him through the tears distorting your vision

"after awhile of thinking, I finally thought of something that I could put in that blank future. Would you like to know what it was?"

You just nod, not trusting your words. His big hands gently engulf your own and for a moment you're absolutely certain Ushijima Wakatoshi will be the death of you

"if I didn't have Volleyball, if I didn't have a single clue of what I could do with my future, if I still had you by my side, I think I would be alright"

One hit K.O.

He keeps going though, as if he didn't just kill you

"if you would have me, I'd like to be in your blank future. For as long as it takes for you to find your volleyball, I'll be there. If it's months or years or decades,"

"if decades pass and you never find your volleyball, I would still like to stay by your side. Maybe your volleyball is looking for volleyball?"

His face contorts in consideration of the idea, and you can't help but laugh wetly, your tears soaking into his jacket as you bury your face into his arm

He presses a soft kiss to your head

"I apologize for what I said last night. I didn't understand"

You only shake your head

You two sit in companionable silence for a little longer so you can eat your breakfast, then you both walk to second period hand in hand

It's only in the boredom of your math class that you realize the gravity of what your boyfriend had said to you in the park

11:08 you: Tendou

11:08 you: was I tripping

11:08 you: or did Wakatoshi /propose/ to me in the park today

Tendou is typing......

A/N: I've never posted this kind of stuff before so comments would really be appreciated! Like if there's something I could do to make my stuff easier to read or whatever I wanna hear it! Even if it's mean I promise I'll only cry a little

255 notes · View notes

forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Photo

Hex Life

Fandom: WandaVision Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Jimmy Woo Rating: E Chapters: 10/10 Word Count: 34k

Summary: Guest starring Agent James E. Woo as himself and introducing Dr. Darcy Lewis as Mrs. Darcy Woo!

Or: Darcy and Jimmy are sent into the Hex to retrieve Captain Monica Rambeau. Finding out Westview has cast them as a married couple is only the first of the surprises that await them.

read ch. 1 one / 2 two / 3 three / 4 four / 5 five 6 six / 7 seven / 8 eight / 9 nine / 10 ten

this fic is now complete!

Jimmy’s going to be a dad. He was going to be a dad in a black-and-white sitcom world and now he’s going to be a dad in a world on the regular spectrum, so the colours really aren’t as big a deal as his impending fatherhood. Possible fatherhood. As much as he’s always secretly wanted his own little Jimmy Woo Jr., he didn’t know if it would be in the cards for him—pun obviously intended—and the last thing he wants to do is influence Darcy either way, especially since he’s only known her a couple days and doesn’t have a clue if a baby was really part of her life plan.

It can’t just be rose-coloured glasses making him see his wife warming to the idea though; when she continues down the hall ahead of Jimmy and Monica, he spots her careful cradling of the baby bump. He can barely stand not touching her. The instinct to shelter others has always been one of his strongest and now he feels it intensely. He longs to protect Darcy, to hold Darcy, to love— Well. Jimmy clears his throat at the very thought and Monica gives him a suspicious side-eyed glance.

“Dry throat,” he lies, tapping his neck in a probably highly unconvincing gesture.

“Uh huh.”

Yeah, she doesn’t sound convinced.

He’s rescued by a burst of sound from the bedroom and dashes ahead of Monica in case Darcy’s in trouble. When he bangs the bedroom door fully open, she’s fine. She’s laughing. He sighs and looks where she points. The queen-sized mattress they shared has changed back to a pair of narrower beds.

“Seriously,” Jimmy says flatly.

“Well, the big bed worked its magic,” Darcy concedes. She pats her rounded stomach. “Mission accomplished.”

“Aw jeeze.”

Ignoring his distress, she sits on the end of the closest bed.

“What I like is that they’re magically made. I didn’t end up having to change the sheets. This is really the next step in home technology.”

“Honey, don’t encourage the magical forces that control our home décor,” he pleads, beckoning until Darcy rises and takes his outstretched hand.

“Better than getting on their bad side. In the AI uprising, you wanna make sure you’re friends with the robots.”

This is an outrageous statement coming from a credible scientist, so Jimmy squints down at her for a minute before saying, “Thanks, house,” aloud, just in case appeasing the Hex now saves him from being closed into a room with no door later, if the walls rearrange to form the ’70s model of their current home.

“You did the smart thing,” Darcy assures him.

As they leave the room, she keeps hold of his hand. He shoots adoring glances at her.

“Hey, Monica,” she says, calling to their guest, who seems to have gone to investigate the walk-in closet. “Accommodations aren’t going to be a problem. I can give you some pajamas too because I think I own at least a dozen pairs, as I’m sure you’ve already discovered…”

But when they look in the closet it’s… not a closet.

“Or maybe the Hex destroyed all my pajamas and I should take back my overtures of friendship,” Darcy corrects.

“Welcome to your nursery,” Monica says. “I’m guessing from the look on Jimmy’s face that this is new.”

It’s spartan, but there’s no doubt in Jimmy’s mind that the room is now intended to be exactly what Monica said. There’s a crib in pieces on the carpet and a rocking chair in the corner. Though he can’t remember this room having even one window, there are now two. The blinds are drawn against the night and curtains patterned with stars and streaking comets hang from a rod mounted above the window. Automatically, he pulls Darcy into his side. He feels her rest her head on his shoulder.

“Man, the Hex is really giving us the hard sell,” she comments.

Just like that, he’s guiding her around by her upper arms and propelling her from the room. He glances over his shoulder to see Monica following with an amused smile. At his nod, she pulls the door shut.

“Ignore it,” Jimmy tells Darcy. “Don’t let that room influence you.”

“Oh, like that’s easy.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know it’s hard not to picture reading Jimmy Junior to sleep in his crib, or watching him learn to roll himself over on the carpet, or cuddling him in your arms in the rocking chair as the morning light—”

“Jimmy Junior?” Darcy asks, interrupting Jimmy’s rapidly solidifying daydream.

“You know what? I’m starving,” Monica announces, putting a hand on each of their shoulders to head off the awkward pause. “How about you two show me some hospitality? I’ve had a long day of being mind-controlled.”

“How ’bout some comfort food?” he asks. “I make a mean bowl of chili.”

“Sounds great.”

So, Jimmy cooks for them. His attention is unequally divided between the simmering pot, Monica leaning against the counter next to him as she recounts the scene at the meeting when Wanda went to take his call, and Darcy sifting pickily through the contents of their fridge. He glances over after putting the lid on the pot to let the chili finish cooking and sees his wife contemplatively holding an egg like it’s Yorick’s skull. Ok, well, he’s just going to leave her to her thoughts.

He sets bowls of chili for himself and Monica on the dining room table. Darcy, justifiably finnicky, takes longer to decide what she’ll be able to stomach, reflexively rubbing the baby bump as she plunders their kitchen. Finally, she comes to sit down. She’s brought a spoon. That’s it. Jimmy’s going to ask, but Darcy just scoots her chair close to his and takes intermittent mouthfuls of his serving while the conversation continues on. He sighs in unannoyed exasperation and alternates dips of his spoon with hers.

It’s just another weird routine they’ve settled into, and like everything else, it didn’t take long.

“You two didn’t know each other before this assignment, right?” Monica checks, motioning between Darcy and Jimmy with a slice of buttered toast.

“No, why?” Darcy asks, dropping a chunk of tomato from her spoon onto his. (Apparently, she doesn’t like tomatoes.)

Monica smiles and says, “No reason.”

She seems ready to accept them as they are, whatever they are. She goes back over the events of this afternoon for Darcy’s benefit—who was zoned out staring at an egg at the time—then the three of them turn to talk of tomorrow. What does Monica feel she needs to try before she’s willing to concede and leave the Hex with them? What can she try? How can Jimmy and Darcy assist her? They talk themselves in a circle of possibilities, limitations, and Monica’s unswerving negative answer to suggestions of her leaving the Hex without getting through to Wanda. Eventually, they decide that the best plan may be no plan, since they’re up against Westview’s ever-shifting magical properties.

“We’ll get up in the morning and see what the world looks like,” Monica says.

Jimmy’s going to reply when the Captain’s expression alters.

“Are you remembering?” Darcy asks her astutely. Monica stares at her. “I don’t want to pry, I’ve just seen that look on a lot of people’s faces lately. People who came back.”

“This isn’t dissimilar,” Monica admits. “When I get anywhere near Wanda or the other characters with speaking parts and start to lose control to… Geraldine—” Jimmy thinks the look on her face is both disgusted and deeply hurt. “—I do get this feeling like the world is going on without me. Only I’m there. I’m right there. I haven’t made up my mind yet if it’s worse than being gone entirely then coming back to find nothing’s the same.”

“Yeah,” Darcy says, soft, sympathetic.

“I don’t know what else the members of this community have been through, but I know I don’t want them to have to keep going through this too. I can’t imagine how tight Wanda’s grip is on the people who were here when she started this. Not sure I’m qualified to be the one to tell her how to let go of her grief and move on.”

Monica blinks quickly and gives a forced smile.

“That was good chili, Jimmy.”

He nods in thanks because he can’t find the right words to say.

They’re all carrying something and Jimmy thinks about that as the three of them clean up, then splinter off to get ready for bed, tired for different and shared reasons. (He changes into his pajamas in the nursery—they found their clothing in a new, regular-sized closet in the bedroom—while Monica and Darcy take the bathrooms.) The Captain’s carrying her recent bereavement and the unignorable sense of responsibility she feels to help Wanda and the Westviewers, possibly precisely because she isn’t ready to confront her own loss. Darcy’s doing some literal carrying with the baby bump her pajama top is buttoned over when she steps out of the en suite bathroom to let Jimmy in to brush his teeth. She’s an astrophysicist who, while studying a television diversion from reality, was brought rudely back to earth by circumstances as real as they come.

What Jimmy’s carrying is actually carrying him: his hope. It’s a good thing to have in his line of work, but a tough thing to keep when the world’s been through what it has. A baby is the least likely and most longed-for thing he would’ve confessed to wanting if someone asked him what was missing from his life.

When it’s acknowledged through awkward glances that, yes, Monica’s taking one of the beds and Jimmy and Darcy will share the other, he climbs under the covers his wife holds open for him. She rolls away from him to lie on her side and he gets comfortable on his back. The Hex has definitely eased up on what it wants for their romantic development because this is the first time he’s been in bed with Darcy and not felt himself caving to the need to have sex with her. Oh, the desire to touch her is as powerful as ever, but the kind of touching he craves is as tender as the flesh of that peach he brought her earlier in the day.

But he doesn’t want to crowd her. Figuratively or literally. Between finding Monica and calling Wanda, making love to Darcy all afternoon and being presented with her pregnant belly in the evening, it’s been a dog’s breakfast of a day. The mission abruptly became just the second most daunting thing he needs to pull off. Now, he’s driven by the impulse to be near Darcy. She doesn’t know it, but she’s drawing him in like gravity and he can only cross his fingers for a soft landing.

Jimmy almost jumps when she reaches for him in the dark, hand feeling behind her until it finds his. She drags his arm over her and he flips onto his side to make it easier. Though Darcy lets him go when his arm’s around her, he doesn’t know where to rest his hand. Tentatively, he places it over her belly and she wriggles back into him. Heart bursting, he holds her more securely to his body, smooths his hand over the bump, and soon falls asleep.

—

The floor wakes him up. He’s just fallen out of bed.

Disoriented, Jimmy sits up in a tangle of comforter and squints at his bed companion in the morning light. They must’ve repositioned while they slept, but that alone wasn’t what forced him to and over the edge—he can see the shape of Darcy’s belly beneath the sheet. It’s noticeably larger than it was yesterday.

He’s still trying to come to terms with that when she sleepily grasps the comforter and yanks it back over her body. Jimmy chuckles and rises into a stretch. Monica’s bed is empty and neatly made, so she must be up already. Before entering the Hex, his internal clock was strict too. Since, he bends to the needs of his subconscious, which seems happiest when it’s allowed to sleep in, particularly if Darcy’s warming the sheets next to him. This is only their third day in Westview and the second time waking up here, but it feels wonderfully routine. As satisfying as completing his consistently-timed morning run or pouring exactly the right amount of milk into his cereal.

Although he’d like to let Darcy sleep, it’s weird now because he’s staring. Anyway, they need to tighten up their operations even further today if they’re going to get out of here soon. Monica requires either success or closure with Wanda, so Jimmy’s determined to help with that. And if Darcy’s pregnancy takes another leap forward, well… that’s another time crunch to consider.

She’s lying on her side, facing him, belly in the space where he fell asleep. Gently, he brushes hair out of her face and strokes lightly up and down her arm.

Darcy gives him a murmured “Hi” with her eyes still shut.

“You gonna get up?”

“Inaminute,” she promises, words running together.

“Alright.”

Jimmy hovers for a second, then darts down to kiss her forehead. She pats his shoulder clumsily in response.

He might as well have had his own eyes shut, blind to everything but Darcy, because it takes opening his wardrobe to realize Monica was correct—everything’s changed again. WandaVision has embraced the ’70s. The shirts and suits he was pretty comfortable with have been traded out. Those items still exist, but now they’re aggressively patterned. There are flared pant legs. There is so much corduroy. Out of the row of shoes tucked into the bottom on his side of the closet, half have platform heels.

“Oh god,” Jimmy groans softly, sifting through for something that won’t feel too much like a cheesy costume.

He ends up with jeans—his only pair of pants without a pattern—and a striped shirt with wide lapels. The Hex’s makeover of his closet has him so beaten down that he doesn’t even pick out a jacket. He doesn’t have the heart for business casual. At the sight of a long-sleeved jumpsuit, Jimmy closes the closet door securely. They have to get out of here. This will be the thing that breaks him.

Slouching into the bathroom, he drops his selections on the counter and takes a shower. As he washes his hair, his fingers slow their scrubbing. Is his hair… longer? He finishes quickly and steps out to find the mirror fogged with steam. He wipes it clean with his forearm, examining his reflection. This place isn’t through with him yet: the Hex has given him a mustache.

Jimmy screams.

“Fine!” Darcy shouts back to his wordless noise of dismay. “I’m up! God, you could’ve just set an alarm and OH MY GOD, HAVE YOU SEEN THE SIZE OF THIS BABY BUMP?!”

He sighs on behalf of himself and his wife, slicks his too-long wet hair back with a comb, then starts in on shaving off the mustache. It immediately grows back.

“Come on,” he complains, cursing the Hex. “Why’d you give me a razor then?!”

Luckily, his annoyance fades the minute he sees Darcy. She’s swearing up a storm about needing to pee and her head looking too small for her body because the Hex has straightened her hair, but he takes all of her restless irritation in with a dazed smile on his face. Adjusting her glasses—now almost circular, with rounded off corners—she catches sight of his new look and erupts into laughter. Whatever the Hex does to mess with their appearance, at least they’re each other’s best medicine to combat it.

“I don’t want to be insensitive,” Monica starts when they walk into the kitchen hand in hand, “but are you significantly more pregnant than you were yesterday?”

Jimmy watches Darcy nod and slips away from her to throw some more bread in the toaster from the bag Monica’s left out on the counter for them.

“You’d think it’s just this big, shapeless dress,” Darcy says, “but no.” She pulls the fabric taut over her stomach to show the size of her belly more accurately. “I don’t want to say it, but the size of this thing makes me think the Hex is leaving me room to grow.”

“And if that dress is only for today…” Monica says.

“Jeepers,” Jimmy concludes.

They eat together in their reconfigured living room. It’s not until Monica’s kicked back in one of their low chairs, ankle propped on her opposite knee, that Jimmy notices her patterned pants.

“Those aren’t from Darcy’s closet are they?”

“No. I’m assuming they’re my clothes from yesterday with the matter recycled for a new decade. Believe me, this outfit wouldn’t have been my choice if I had anything else to pick from.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. I had a whole closet and still ended up with this,” Jimmy says, motioning to himself.

“My retro Secret Agent Man,” Darcy states admiringly, leaning her head over to bump against his shoulder. Ok, he thinks, smiling at her, I can be alright with this for her.

When Monica rises to turn on the television, Jimmy realizes this is the first time they’ve had one in the house. He remembers seeing a set in the Vision residence when he and Darcy were watching an episode on the S.W.O.R.D. base, but he didn’t notice the lack once they got here. Probably because that first night was taken up with flirting, and then yesterday was split between scouring the downtown for Monica and holing up in the bedroom with Darcy. Watching the screen buzz to life now is like witnessing something truly futuristic and spectacular.

“Well, whaddaya know,” he says as the opening sequence of WandaVision begins.

“You think the TVs in here play anything else?” Darcy wonders aloud.

“Maybe not,” Monica says distractedly as they all turn their attention to Wanda and Vision’s adorable antics—the ice cream, the tandem bicycle. “It’s a pretty big coincidence that this show started right when I turned it on.”

“I can see an even bigger coincidence.”

There’s no need to guess what Darcy means. Wanda’s baby bump is obvious in nearly every shot of the introduction, particularly emphasized when she and Vision dance together, his hand on her belly. It’s all maternity clothes and Vision reading pregnancy books and while it’s wholesome, it’s also chilling.

“We’re doing the same plot,” Jimmy says.

“It’s like we’re… their understudies,” Darcy agrees, shrinking back into the cushions.

“Maybe Wanda figured, if you two wanted to be in the show so bad, she’d put you in the show,” Monica theorizes. “Her show. Exactly the way she’s living it.”

“So she’s teaching us a lesson? On what? Abstinence?”

“Could be a misguided attempt to gain your sympathy.”

“Or it really is all about control,” Jimmy suggests, cynical after the reveal that the pregnancy that’s upended his entire life isn’t really theirs. It’s not original. They’re following a Newlywed Couple template.

“Hey,” Darcy says, grabbing his arm, “this wasn’t all Wanda. She might’ve set the scene and, yeah, maybe we were more the goatherd puppets than we were Fraulein Maria and Captain von Trapp, but we did this.” She pulls his hand to her belly. “Wanda doesn’t decide what we do next.”

“What I suggest you not do next is consult Dr. Misogyny over here,” Monica says, gesturing at the television.

The doctor is condescending to Wanda and Vision about the facts of life during a checkup (in their living room?). He lowers himself even further in Jimmy’s regard when he refers to expectant mothers as “little ladies” and implies that the changes in their own bodies are beyond their understanding.

“What a quack,” he decides. “We’re not going to see that guy.” He’s startled to recall his promise to Darcy the previous evening, about options, his intention not to make up her own mind for her. Lowering his voice, he tilts his head close to hers. “I mean, we’ll do whatever you want. Including…”

Jimmy trails off and casts his eyes down. He still means it, wants Darcy on board with this 100% or not at all, but the whole thing’s been a roller coaster and he’s not great at pretending not to feel anything. With his wife so much further into her pregnancy today, it’s obvious that this baby will be born and they’ll need to decide who’s raising it. He thinks the two of them together could rear a pretty incredible kid, but if she wants out, is he prepared to be a single parent? The other option besides her, him, or both of them raising the baby is adoption. They’d need to leave the Hex before taking those steps (it’s not like he’s going to encourage Darcy to hand the baby over to a mind-controlled Westviewer), and just thinking about it, with everything he already feels for the baby, makes him certain that he’d rather rearrange his entire life than pass on this chance at a family. However unorthodox their beginnings.

“Don’t worry,” Darcy says calmly, pulling him from his spiral. “That guy will never get the chance to compare my uterus to a vegetable garden.”

“Fruit,” Monica corrects without looking away from the television.

“Right. Fruit. He’ll have no say about any of it. And he definitely won’t get the opportunity to be patronizing as fuck while he tries to give us the sex talk.” She looks Jimmy right in the eye and says, “I won’t let the asshole doctor-man say a word about your banana.”

Chuckling, he looks back to the screen. The doctor has departed and Vision’s currently baffled over Wanda’s newly expanded stomach. Uh oh. He jerks his head around to check and, yep, Darcy’s baby bump appears to be keeping up with the sitcom star’s.

“You two stay here,” Monica instructs, on her feet when Jimmy glances over.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To Wanda’s. If things continue at this rate, she could give birth in this episode. That’s going to make her even more protective of her family and her space and I’ll have an even harder time getting near her.”

“Are you sure you want to interrupt?”

They both glance at the television for a moment to observe Wanda and Vision debating baby names in the nursery. There’s nothing distressing about the scene—in fact, the couple looks as much at ease as Jimmy’s seen them on the show—but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t change, and quickly, if Monica inserted herself. He just isn’t sure how that would go and he doesn’t like any plan where he can’t foresee all the possible outcomes.

“Guess I just have a feeling,” Monica says, looking unsettled.

“Well,” Darcy pipes up, “in the world of science, having a feeling is forming a theory, and in this place… I think having a feeling you should do something might be Wanda giving you your cue.”

“You’re not beyond her control,” Jimmy tells Monica, “just farther away from it. What if Darcy’s right?”

“If Wanda wants me there, I’m not going to resist,” she replies firmly. “She’s the key and we need her cooperation.”

“Good luck,” Darcy bids her.

With a nod to them both, Monica strides across the living room and opens the front door.

“Speaking of keys,” Jimmy recalls, but the door shuts before he can offer to let her borrow their car to get to Wanda’s.

Maybe the Captain has a different plan. Maybe she’s just bending to Wanda’s influence. Whichever it is, he can’t go after her. Monica was right—he has to stay here with Darcy today, especially because her belly seems larger when he looks again. He glances at her face with a question on his and she nods.

“And I felt a kick,” she says.

“Really? Could I…? Do you think I could…?”

Darcy rolls her eyes at his reticence and guides both his hands to the bump. When he feels something nudge his palm, Jimmy tears up.

“That’s our baby,” Darcy confirms.

“Feels like they have my softball windup,” he murmurs.

“Or my pre-coffee restlessness.”

“Our baby,” Jimmy repeats, staring into her eyes—finally blue for the first time in days, give or take a decade.

They’re having a marvelous family moment until the power goes out. Lights, TV, the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, everything. Seconds later, it all comes back.

“That was strange.”

“I wondered what Wanda’s magic was doing to the power grid,” Darcy says. “I’m still curious about the finer points of what happens when electricity meets power generated by an Infinity Stone. Really, I’d expect Wanda to have this kinda thing under control, but I guess if she’s— Ugh!”

Her pained noise has Jimmy cupping her face, pushing back her hair, trying to figure out what happened.

“She’s distracted,” she says.

“By what?”

“Labour.”

“What? No.”

Sure enough, when Darcy stands (with Jimmy leaping to his feet to support her) and stretches her back, her bump looks big enough to contain a baby that’s almost ready to be born. Ready to be born?! Jimmy thinks. In our house? With no doctor? Just because the one on TV rubbed him the wrong way doesn’t mean he’s prepared to write off every doctor, nurse, and midwife in Westview. He would very much like to place responsibility for this delivery in the hands of a medical professional, not his own!

Even as the TV’s flickering back to life, he helps Darcy away from it. That just shows how serious things are. He knows how quickly she became invested in the sitcom when they reviewed the ’50s episode at the base.

After some frantic thought, he’s thinking the bathtub is going to have to do. People do that right? With home births? Although he attempts to guide Darcy in that direction, she doesn’t even want to sit down on the edge, let alone climb in. No, she wants to pace, and as she paces, she rubs at her lower back, wincing.

“We could look at the nursery,” he proposes. “Might take your mind off it.”

Jimmy knows it could be a weak suggestion, an insult to imply that anything could take Darcy’s mind off whatever discomfort she’s currently feeling, but the Hex, with its radioactive walls, smiles down on them for once. With his arm around her to take some of her weight, they hobble into the baby’s room and it’s… perfect.

The walls are dark blue near the ceiling, almost black, fading to periwinkle halfway down the wall. The lower portion transitions from blue to pale yellow, then a blazing orange right before the baseboard.

“It’s a sunrise,” he comprehends.

“Yeah,” Darcy says softly.

Though he feels like he got slightly ripped off by not being allowed a chance to do any of the decorating, he does admire the Hex’s choices. At last, his wife’s been represented in this space, in this house, and it’s beautiful. There’s a shelf full of space-themed board books, a plastic jumble of play versions of scientific tools like telescopes. A dangling mobile of the planets. After easing his wife into the rocking chair, Jimmy holds up a pack of glow-in-the-dark stars.

“Should I put these up?”

She smiles.

“I would be all over that shit if I could, but I trust you to do a good job.”

“Oh no. Do you want me to do real constellations?”

“The baby’s not gonna know the difference. Make it look however you want.”

She rocks, assuring him something about the motion is helping her manage the intensifying pain of her contractions, and Jimmy finds a small stepping stool to help him reach the ceiling. The sway of the chair in the corner of his eye, the morning light through the curtains, and the sound of Darcy breathing are things he already knows he’ll never forget.

Before he’s stuck all the stars in the pack to the ceiling’s white paint, she calls him down from the stool.

“I need to walk again.”

Darcy says it with grit and Jimmy doesn’t argue, even when walking appears to put her in even more distress; she groans and pushes her free hand against the wall as they stroll out of the nursery and down the hallway.

“Let’s check in with Wanda,” Jimmy says helplessly.

This is who he is now: a husband in over his head, desperate to gain tips about delivering a baby from a TV sitcom. An overwhelmed real estate agent. A man with a mustache.

They return to the living room and the TV playing WandaVision in time for Monica’s entrance. Based on her free use of ’70s slang and the general discord between the Captain Rambeau Jimmy’s been getting to know and the woman on the screen, he knows they’re looking at Geraldine. Wanda’s back in control of her character alright, and Jimmy wants to know who it’s helping. The scene’s centered around some joke about Wanda attempting to hide her pregnancy, which is no good for him. He needs a step-by-step guide, not a magic-resistant stork!

“There better not be a fucking bird in here,” Darcy gripes, alternately crouching and standing as every position fails to make her comfortable. “If I see a fucking, goddamn, sonofabitch, motherfucking—”

“I know, sweetie, I know,” Jimmy assures her, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades with the flat of his hand.

“The betrayal,” she mutters when Wanda elects to lie down behind a couch.

It completely blocks their view. If this were a regular show, Jimmy would understand that. Sitcom viewers would definitely appreciate a little TV magic over graphic, up-close-and-personal birth footage, but here at the Woo residence, one FBI agent and his astrophysicist wife really just want the truth! If Monica had agency, he’s sure she’d shove the couch aside to help them out, but with Geraldine at the helm, he’s confronting the fact that he and Darcy are on their own.

“Let’s go, Darcy,” he says, steering her towards the bathroom. “We don’t need her.”

“Are you sure?”

He’s never heard Darcy sound so uncertain and knows he’ll have to bluff his way through this. When the Avengers aren’t around, the regular people must step up. Reminding himself of that has gotten Jimmy through more than one tough day on the job and he tells himself it’ll get them both through this.

“Of course.”

In the bathroom, Darcy kicks out of her underwear and uses Jimmy as a crutch to climb into the tub. Her face is scrunched up severely and her hands are braced against the walls of the bathtub, so he tries to watch and understand what she needs. When all the tension in her face and body burst out in a shout, he grabs her hand. Her fingers curl around his palm in a death grip.

“How about some nice warm water? Water, Darcy?”

She nods rapidly, eyes clenched shut, and he turns on the facet, then quickly reaches behind her to plug the drain. The stream wets his sleeve and, when he withdraws his arm, hits her hair around the level of her shoulders and begins to soak the back of her dress. Between contractions, Darcy sighs in what sounds like relief.

“That feels good,” she acknowledges.

“Good,” is all Jimmy can say back. He kisses her face and squeezes her hand in his. “Good.”

He’s back to scrambling for a solution soon enough when the warm flow of water down her back stops being enough to soothe her. He helps her out of her sodden dress, tossing it behind him to splat on the tile floor.

“What do you need?” he asks wildly, leaning over the tub.

“Earplugs,” Darcy tells him before emitting a scream shrill enough to probably be heard by their neighbour’s dog, Dipper, down the street.

Jimmy doesn’t think, he just does. Snatching a towel off the rail, bracing his wife’s foot against his shoulder as her leg spasms, reaching into the water to collect their baby when the Hex (he assumes) does them the favour of letting one long push be sufficient to expel him. Him. Jimmy and Darcy’s son.

He’s beaming through the happy tears, delicately wiping at the wailing baby with the towel and passing him into Darcy’s outstretched arms as she shakes with astonished laughter, hair wet, head resting back against the jut of the faucet.

“That wasn’t so hard,” he jokes.

Darcy sits up, sending a splash of water over the side of the bathtub to slap the floor, and he knows the Hex is interfering again to make her capable of anything besides exhaustion after what she just accomplished. She twists sideways in the tub until she’s closer to Jimmy. He wraps an arm around her wet shoulders and peers down at the face of their boy, already drowsy after exercising his tiny lungs. Jimmy can feel Darcy studying his face.

“Jimmy Woo Junior?” she asks.

And he knows the rest is going to be gravy.

—

Inside the Hex, the magic of television is real. They didn’t need to fake Darcy’s pregnancy with a cushion to make her belly, round and taut as a beach ball, disappear entirely only minutes after giving birth. They didn’t need a set of twins or triplets playing Jimmy Woo Jr. to swap in a quiet baby for one that starts to cry. There’s no trick lighting or fudged angles, just Darcy sitting on the couch (in dry, non-maternity clothes) catching their amazingly calm, less than an hour-old son up on the details of his origin story—Darcy’s wording.

It’s shaping up to be a nice, if highly unusual, family day in, until the tension starts to mount on-screen. Probably something Jimmy could’ve caught sooner if he weren’t spending 50 seconds out of every minute stroking the baby’s teeny-weeny hands while he hopes Jimmy Jr. retains zero memory of his dad’s mustache. When he hears Monica mention Wanda’s brother by name, he’s fully alert to the episode and knows he has to act. That close to Wanda, Monica’s control should be fully suppressed beneath the character of Geraldine. If she’s breaking through to ask Wanda person questions, questions that are almost definitely going to provoke an emotional response, Monica must be fighting like crazy to surface. Jimmy decides that’s his signal to get over there and help bring this thing to a satisfying conclusion so they can all leave the Hex.

“You’re not going to Wanda’s without me,” Darcy informs him, planted in front of the door when Jimmy returns from grabbing his keys.

“Darcy, you can’t. The baby. I’d stay with him and let you go, but I’ve never heard you mention particular skill in hand-to-hand combat and I can’t guarantee things won’t turn violent.”

She snorts.

“Liar. I could be the world’s biggest hand-to-hand badass and you’d still be trying to protect me right now.”

He stares at her and Darcy stubbornly lifts her chin as she holds his eyes.

“Ok,” Jimmy concedes, “yes, I would.”

“Please don’t leave us here,” she says, cheek pressed to the baby’s. No, no, no, he can already feel himself wanting to surrender, to have them with him. Darcy kisses their son’s face, then holds his hand to gesture while she pitches her voice higher, pretending to speak for Jimmy Jr. “I want to meet Auntie Monica.”

He gives her a look and reaches past her to open the door. Instead of trying to exit around his family, he waves Darcy through ahead of him. (She looks down at the baby in her arms and goes “Yaaaay! Isn’t Daddy a soft touch?”)

“You didn’t persuade me,” he says, leading them to the car and holding the door for Darcy while she climbs into the back seat with the baby. “This is strategic.”

“Is the strategy common sense? I feel like you should’ve gone with that from the beginning. Bringing a scientist to a magic fight is good thinking, for, like, balance and shit.”

Jimmy backs down the driveway as gently as he can. Their car’s been modernized (well, for the latest decade) and while it now has seatbelts, it wasn’t equipped with a car seat for their son. He’s going to have to drive with the utmost care.

“Hopefully, there won’t be a fight,” he reminds Darcy, “but if there is, you won’t be anywhere near it. You and Jimmy Junior are staying in the car. Alright?”

When he darts his gaze to the rear-view mirror, he sees his wife looking out her window, making a show of not listening to him. Jimmy sighs.

Without thinking, he navigates back to the street where they dropped Monica off yesterday. Wanda’s house is just down from Dottie’s; he remembers the number from watching WandaVision. Jimmy draws up to the curb and parks. He glances back at Darcy, but she’s still ignoring him.

“I’ll try to be right back,” he tells her anyway, eyes dropping longingly to the serene face of his sleeping son. He’s heard that about babies and car rides.

Jogging up the driveway, he does a doubletake of a ragged slash in the wall between Wanda’s property and her neighbour’s. There’s not exactly anything wrong with a damaged cinderblock or an amateur handyman job, but the crevice in the stone stands out in a world so aggressively styled and manicured.

Wishing for the reassurance of his gun at his hip in case things go south (it’s the first time he’s even thought about the gun since the night he and Darcy arrived), Jimmy enters the Vision residence without knocking.

Orienting himself to what he was just watching on TV in a house less than a mile from here, he walks across the entryway, attracting the attention of both Wanda and Monica. They’re standing across from each other in the living room. Raising his hands to show he intends no harm, Jimmy sweeps his eyes over the scene in assessment, like he has a hundred times before. Monica’s expression is alarmed under superficial friendliness—the look of someone trying to placate an attacker. With her aggressive, forward-leaning posture and the way she’s positioned herself between Monica and the cribs (he’s surprised to see more than one, but he did miss some of the episode while he was delivering his son in their bathtub), Wanda fits that role.

“Wanda,” he says, taking a step towards the seating area, “you don’t want to hurt her.”

“Are you working with her?” Wanda demands. “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”

“James Woo. I’m not here to hurt you. Neither is Geraldine.”

“You don’t want to hurt me? Then why do you come asking questions? Saying things—” He can see her chin wobble from here as she teeters on the edge of tears. “—about Pietro. You didn’t know my brother.”

Her statement is directed at Monica, but Jimmy tries to bring her focus back to him. Of himself and the Captain, he’s the one with an exit at his back, whereas Monica’s hemmed in by a large bookcase.

“I didn’t know your brother,” Jimmy agrees. “I do know about him, but we don’t need to talk about that. I don’t want to upset you, Wanda, I just want you to let me leave with Geraldine.”

“Oh, I’ll let you leave,” Wanda says, cocking her head as she raises her hands. This motion conveys the opposite meaning to Jimmy’s—she does intend them harm.

He’s contemplating what’ll happen if he tries to rush her when Darcy charges through the front door he left open.

“Don’t!” Jimmy gasps, making a grab for her, but his body is tense with caution and Darcy has the momentum to dodge him, stepping down the level into the living room.

“Look,” Darcy demands of Wanda, whose expression is torn as she chooses between facing Monica and this new intruder.

Jimmy’s mentally composing and rejecting ideas of how to proceed when their unwelcoming host lowers her hands. She’s looking where Darcy directed her to, at the baby in Darcy’s arms.

“He was born less than an hour ago, and I only found out I was pregnant yesterday, but that doesn’t matter. I know it’s the same for you, the circumstances and the… yeah, whatever. You know about the Big Bang, right?” she continues, jumping to the next thought.

“Yes,” Wanda says carefully.

Jimmy’s terrified to move closer and set Wanda on the offensive again. He glances at Monica, who seems to be thinking the same thing, frozen in place.

“From nothing to so much, in an instant,” Darcy’s saying in her condensed history of the universe. “Science is supposed to be full of all these rules. Like, every scientist dude important enough to remember had some law or formula or method that we map everything on top of when we’re pretending we understand all this. Being in science isn’t a goal I’ve had for a long time—I mean, I probably wouldn’t be in it now if the world hadn’t more or less ended—and if all I ever heard about the workings of the universe was rules, I would’ve stayed away. Who likes rules, right? Who wants to be told that things are the way they are because something outside of your control says so? My point is…”

She takes a deep breath, then another one, shifting until she’s blocking Wanda’s expression from Jimmy’s view.

“Sorry, I just gave birth, you know how it is,” Darcy says when she goes on. Jimmy’s stricken with exasperation, adoration, fear, and pride. “My point is that I love science because, while science is laws and rules and equations, science is also standing outside at night and staring up at the dark. There are explanations for every light that’s up there and why, even when you’re away from big cities and the sky seems so black and close, you don’t fall up into it, although it kinda feels like you could. Science can tell me why, and it still feels like magic when I look at the stars. And we’ve all been traveling out here in space together, getting made and unmade and made again because the right ingredients needed to create something as precious as a planet, or a baby, or the clay that’ll make the bricks that’ll make the house never disappear. Suns explode, asteroids collide and get chipped away… things can separate down to their smallest part, life can…”

“End?” Wanda asks.

Jimmy’s stunned to hear the word come out choked. Cautiously, he leans to get a glimpse of Wanda’s face. It’s covered in tears. Darcy’s nodding.

“But everything’s valuable. All matter gets reused.” Jimmy wants to grab her and pull her to safety when she takes a step closer to Wanda. “I get it if you’re sad and you’re not ready to talk about it. I’m not gonna say it’s ok, because I’ve heard Monica’s testimonial on exactly how much it sucks to have you in her head, but I do think you should let us leave now so you have a few friends out there when you inevitably need people on your side.”

“You can go,” Wanda agrees, swiping at her nose. “I won’t hurt your baby.”

“You’re not going to hurt my friend either,” Darcy says, beckoning for Monica to cross the room behind her. “Or my husband.”

“No,” Wanda says.

Monica reaches Jimmy and they wait for Darcy in the entryway.

“I bet all that control feel really good,” Darcy theorizes. “Taking it into your own hands. But I think you know that focusing on the beautiful, magical stuff doesn’t mean the rules no longer exist. Maybe you can find a way to accept them both.”

“It’s time for you to leave,” Wanda says, firmer now.

“Not looking for a life coach, got it.”

She joins Jimmy and Monica, bouncing the baby lightly in her arms. Wanda ushers them out of the house ahead of her. Jimmy glances back to see her close the door after herself with a twist and red glow of her hands.

“What about waiting in the car?” he mutters to Darcy as they stride down the lawn.

His self-proclaimed wife stares at him.

“I’m not the kind of person who waits in the car. Would the kind of person who waits in the car give a speech like that?”

Jimmy’s at an honest-to-goodness loss for words.

She gets into the car willingly enough now, Jimmy in the passenger’s seat while Monica slides behind the wheel.

“Wanda’s told me how to stand, how to move, how to walk since I got in here,” Monica says, turning the key in the ignition. “I’m driving myself out.”

“It’ll part for you when you get there,” Wanda calls to them from the lawn. “The barrier. I suggest you do not attempt to enter again.”

“I think we’ve all had our fill,” Jimmy informs her cheerfully through his rolled-down window.

She doesn’t respond to this, so Monica executes a three-point turn and takes them back up the street the way they came. From there, they turn out of the subdivision, but Jimmy snags a last look at Wanda through the back window. There’s a light breeze blowing her dress and hair and she looks like she could be anyone. A suburban mom of twins? Why not. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see her again in person, but he has plans to catch her show.

“Wanda’s changed the roads,” Monica says as she drives. For his son’s sake, Jimmy’s grateful that she isn’t speeding, though he wouldn’t blame her for trying to get out of here as quickly as possible. “None of them lead out of town.”

“Literal tourist trap. Brilliant,” Darcy declares from the back seat. Jimmy reaches an arm back blindly and feels her close her hand around his.

“But,” Monica adds, “I remember Ellis Avenue being the closest cross street to the edge of town. We find that, then drive over the grass. Things may get a little bumpy.”

“We’ll survive.”

Jimmy twists around to look at Darcy. He nods. They will. They’ll survive.

They cross Ellis and take the car off-road. The barrier remains invisible, but…

“I can feel it,” Darcy says.

“Like we did the day we came in,” Jimmy recalls.

“It still wants us out,” Monica interprets. He sees her staring uneasily ahead. “Was I naïve to think I could change anything by coming in here?”

“No, Captain. It was brave.”

“Didn’t work though. We aren’t leaving with Wanda.”

“It could work,” Darcy says. “We left her with a few things to think about. We’ll watch WandaVision and see.”

“That’ll be strange after being a part of it.”

“You think so?” Jimmy wonders. He takes a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and the sunshine, playing with Darcy’s fingers laced through his. “I think it’s returning to regular life that’s going to feel strange. Out there, it’s easy to see all this as a TV show, but everything in here is real.”

“We’ll make Hayward understand that.”

“I’m bringing back some compelling evidence,” Darcy says, followed by kissy sounds directed at Jimmy Jr.

The air just a couple of car lengths ahead of them abruptly glows red as Wanda reveals the wall of the Hex. Jimmy and Monica exchange a look, but she doesn’t slow down. They pass through without resistance. All of a sudden, it’s night. Monica lets out a relieved sigh.

The S.W.O.R.D. base is looming, exterior lights ablaze, but Jimmy looks backwards, checking that Darcy and the baby are alright.

“Same as you left us,” she says, pulling back the blanket to show him the face of his son.

He gives her a slightly melancholic smile.

“Not quite, Dr. Lewis.”

“I’ll have a lot of work to do,” Darcy notes thoughtfully, “but time for you and me to go on dates will be on my list of demands.”

“You have a list of demands?” Monica asks, laughter in her voice.

“After being forced into the Hex, where I could’ve lost my life? Fuck yes, I have a list.”

“What else are you asking for?”

“The coffee I requested on day one and a desk in a better spot so there’s room next to it for the crib that will also be on my list.”

Monica laughs aloud now.

“Is this a benefits negotiation or a baby shower registry?”

“Let’s get back to the part where we’re going on dates,” Jimmy says. “How’s that going to work?”

“Jimmy, darlin’,” Darcy begins, “will you go out with me?”

He leans to look around his seat at her.

“Darcy, we were married. We have a baby. Don’t you think we can—”

“Answer the question, Agent Woo.”

“Of course I’ll go out with you,” he says.

“And that’s how it works. Easy-peasy.”

She gives his hand a squeeze before releasing it to hold Jimmy Jr. more securely as Monica pulls up to a building and brakes. Already, S.W.O.R.D. agents are rushing out to meet them, but Jimmy drops back against his seat and smiles to himself.

“‘Easy-peasy.’”

#my writing #Hex Life #wandavision #wandavision spoilers #Darcy Lewis #Jimmy Woo #Darcy Lewis x Jimmy Woo #Darcy x Jimmy

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little-mad · 3 years

Text

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 12

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin felt completely emotionally drained. Between being insulted by Ashryn and threatened by Rael, all he really wanted to do was crawl into a hole and hide from the world for a little while. There was no part of him that was ready to face the alteon Emperor--to be judged and sentenced. Gavin wasn’t even sure he had the energy to plead his case at this point.

As much as he just wanted to run away, there was no escape for the human. He was trapped on top of a gigantic desk. The massive items nearby almost seemed to taunt him, reminding him of how small and insignificant he was in this dimension. “You’re pathetic,” the quill sitting in its inkwell a few feet away seemed to say. “You’re all alone,” Gavin imagined a massive roll of parchment sneer.

“Great, I’ve sunk so low I’m starting to imagine inanimate objects talking to me,” Gavin thought bitterly to himself.

Meanwhile, the alteon Emperor loomed over the human like some kind of divine monument. The man almost looked ethereal, as if he walked straight out of a storybook. His skin, which appeared nearly flawless, was of a cool brown color. He shared Rael’s long black hair, but rather than tying it back, the Emperor wore his down, with a few strands done into intricate braids. As seemed to be the case with all alteons, the Emperor’s eyes were of a striking, vibrant color. Those yellow irises were focused in on Gavin, holding him in their intense stare.

In terms of dress, the Emperor certainly looked the part. He wore a jeweled band around his head that appeared to be made of silver--which matched the metal that made up the leaf shaped earring that hung from one of his pointed ears.

With the Emperor sitting at his desk, it was impossible for Gavin to see a majority of the man’s apparel, but what he could see looked incredibly lavish. The tunic was of a deep blue color and was decorated with silver embellishments along the hemlines. No doubt the garment was made of silk or some other similar luxurious fabric.

“We have much to discuss,” the Emperor began as he looked down at Gavin. “But first, I believe introductions are in order.” There was no hostility in the man’s voice. Unlike with Ashryn, Gavin didn’t detect anything disdainful or accustatory in his tone. Instead, the Emperor seemed perfectly calm and polite; he even wanted to engage in civil greetings. “My name is Ailred. I am the son of Lyris, and the Emperor of Iaela,” he announced smoothly, the words clearly ones he had said many times.

Considering both Rael and the Emperor had introduced themselves without surnames, Gavin had to assume alteon’s didn’t utilize them in the same way many human cultures did. The Emperor had presented himself as the son of “Lyris” though, something Rael had not done. Were he in a better mental state, Gavin may have pondered why that might be, but given the circumstances he would just accept it and move on.

It took a long moment of Gavin just standing there frozen, shifting uncomfortably under the Emperor’s silent stare, before he figured out he was expected to say something. “He wants me to introduce myself,” he realized.

How the hell was he supposed to get himself to speak? This was maybe the very first time Gavin had zero desire to say anything. He didn’t trust himself anymore. The last time he’d opened his big mouth, he’d ended up with a giant hand slammed down beside him. Now imagine the consequences that could await him if he said the wrong thing to a damn Emperor.

At the same time, remaining silent was hardly an option either. Refusing to comply with the Emperor’s wishes could just as easily have frightening repercussions. Gavin really and truly was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

After a few seconds of internal panicking and frenzied thinking, Gavin spoke up. “My name is Gavin--uh Gavin Stone,” he managed to spit out. He tried to force himself to maintain eye contact with the Emperor, but every fiber of his being was begging him to look away from that intimidating gaze.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Gavin Stone,” the Emperor replied, giving Gavin a nod of greeting before turning his attention beyond him. “Rael, I trust you encountered no issues in retrieving Mr. Stone?” he inquired, reminding Gavin of the fact that his former captor remained in the room, just a few yards away.

“There was no trouble from the humans, your majesty; however I did run into some brigands in the woods who attempted to abduct the prisoner,” Gavin heard Rael explain from behind him. “The offenders did manage to escape, and for that I offer my sincerest apologies.” God, Rael almost sounded like a different person when he spoke to the Emperor. Not that Gavin had any real grasp on what kind of person Rael was. He’d learned that the hard way.

A frown developed on the Emperor’s face. “You did your duty in protecting the human,” he began. “What I’m more concerned with is the fact that these criminals were bold enough to attempt to interfere with Imperial business.”

“Greed can drive you to do some pretty stupid shit,” Gavin thought to himself bitterly.

After a moment of silent contemplation, the Emperor sighed. “I suppose we’ll need to increase the number of patrols in the surrounding woods,” he concluded. “I’ll also have you meet with Captain Saida later to coordinate a search for these would-be abductors.”

If Kaydin and his female associate were smart, they would already be getting as far away from the palace as possible. Gavin could tell the Emperor was serious about this, so if the two thugs didn’t get some major distance from the scene of the crime, there was probably a high likelihood they’d wind up getting caught.

“Now,” Gavin instantly felt the intensity of the Emperor’s gaze return to him, “you are here because you were caught stealing from an alteon diplomat while they were visiting the human realm, correct?”

Suddenly Gavin felt like he was back in elementary school, being forced to answer questions the principal already knew the answer to. The Emperor already knew what the human in front of him had done, and yet he wanted to see Gavin admit to it himself.

Biting back an exasperated sigh, Gavin gave a nod of confirmation.

“And you understand that because your crime was against an alteon, you were brought here to face judgement?” the Emperor inquired, continuing to watch Gavin with those hypnotizing yellow eyes.

Gavin nodded again. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with giving non-verbal responses forever, but he wanted to avoid it for as long as possible. Not only because he didn’t trust himself not to say the wrong thing, but also because he wasn’t sure how he was meant to refer to the Emperor. Rael had called him “your majesty” earlier, but the idea of saying something like that sounded so strange to Gavin.

“I realize as a human you are unfamiliar with alteon customs, so allow me to explain the situation,” the Emperor started. “Typically, when I am called to judge a criminal, it is done as an official trial in which nobles and all involved parties are present.”

Gavin supposed that wasn’t altogether different from the trials back home. Of course, rather than having a jury of his peers, Gavin would be judged by the Emperor and the Emperor alone.

“However,” the giant monarch continued, “because you are human, the circumstances are different. I believe a large-scale event would do more harm than good in the long run,” he explained, folding his hands atop the desk. Gavin tried not to focus on them for long, because he and giant hands really weren’t on good terms.

While he was glad to hear he wouldn’t be subjected to some grandiose trial in which he’d be trapped in a room full of a bunch of alteons staring at him, Gavin wasn’t entirely sure alternatives would bode any better. If the Emperor had no one around to criticize his decision, he could be as cruel as he wanted.

“In the meeting which preceded this one, I discussed with my advisors various potential sentences,” the Emperor went on. “I also requested input from Ashryn, as he has some experience interacting with humans,” he added, looking at Rael when he said it.

Gavin suppressed a scowl. He was sure any input from Ashryn had been exceedingly negative. For whatever reason, the guy had it out for him--or maybe he just had it out for all humans in general for some reason.

“Ashryn’s position on the matter was that you need to be made an example of,” the Emperor stated, quickly erasing any doubt that that asshole had a vendetta against humankind. “His suggestion was that you be made a spectacle of, perhaps by placing you in a cage and displaying you in the front hall for visiting nobles and the like to view.”

An instant feeling of nausea came over Gavin. He felt absolutely sick to his stomach. Ashryn was beyond just a dick, he had to be some sort of sadistic demon. The suggestion that a living, breathing, intelligent creature be caged and put on show like some kind of zoo animal was abhorrent. Gavin could hardly even believe what he was hearing.

“Your majesty, forgive me, but doesn’t that seem a bit excessive?” Gavin heard Rael ask incredulously. What was with that guy? Not ten minutes ago he was yelling at Gavin and standing up for his alteon soldier buddy. Now all of a sudden he supposedly cared about what happened to Gavin? It just didn’t make any sense.

The Emperor gave a small shrug. “I don’t know, some of my advisors seemed to like that idea. They believe that if Gavin Stone isn’t properly made an example of, then more and more humans will think they can get away with crossing alteons.”

What was Gavin supposed to do? Should he try to stand up for himself, to excuse what he’d done? Would it even matter? He had committed the crime, that much was fact. So would any excuses even make a difference? He tried to read the Emperor’s face, to look for some kind of sign that he would be understanding, but the man had an expression that was virtually unreadable. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Of course, of course Ashryn would advocate for some cruel, antiquated punishment for Gavin. It was obvious the guy had some inexplicable resentment towards humans, certainly more than Rael had ever had. He’d been of the opinion that they were inferior, fairly irritating creatures, but never would have gone out of his way to ensure they suffer. Ashryn, on the other hand, seemed eager to see Gavin endure the worst.

And what was worse? The Emperor hadn’t immediately dismissed Ashryn’s suggestion. How could he even consider it? Surely he would never subject even the worst alteon criminal to the humiliation and indignity that would come from being locked in a cage and put on display. Yes Gavin was human, but he was still an intelligent, sentient being. He didn’t deserve to be treated like an attraction.

But what could Rael do? He was in no position to question the Emperor; doing so would be suicide for the reputation he’d worked so hard to achieve. He had to wonder whether the information that Gavin had in fact been hired to steal from the diplomat would impact the Emperor’s decision.

Gavin himself seemed pretty convinced that that bit of information wouldn’t change anything, so it was doubtful that he’d speak up about it. Rael wasn’t convinced. Surely if the Emperor knew Gavin had just been used by somebody else, he would be less harsh with the punishment he issued.

Rael couldn’t speak up about it. He had already taken a great risk with his previous comment. Continuing to speak out of turn in favor of a human criminal could end up reflecting horribly on him. The Emperor may begin to question his loyalty. Rael couldn’t put that all on the line for the sake of a human of all people...right?

The memory of Gavin’s fear-stricken face flashed through Rael’s mind. He cringed internally at the mental image. Gavin had clearly had some level of trust in him, the look of betrayal he’d worn made that much evident. When Rael had used his far greater size and strength to scare the human into submission, he’d shattered any trust that may have developed between them. He had taken the side of Ashryn, someone he hated, rather than risk his status by standing up for Gavin.

Yes, what Rael had done had been the right thing to ensure his reputation remained in good standing. But if it had been the right thing to do, then why did Rael feel so miserable about it?

“If you have something to say on the matter, you have my permission to speak up,” the Emperor told Rael, clearly sensing his hesitation.

“I can’t say anything, I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to risk it for some human!” one part of Rael’s mind insisted, but he was finding that voice was quickly becoming quieter and quieter.

While it was difficult for him to believe he could make such a profound difference, Rael couldn’t help but worry that what he said next could seal Gavin’s fate one way or the other. The Emperor was watching, waiting for a response. Rael had to make up his mind. “Yes, your majesty. I have information concerning Lady Elyth’s stolen ring.”

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael #jsyk im going to moving to a new apartment in the next couple days #so the next part may take a little bit longer than usual

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hongism · 3 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 33.5

➻ pairing for this interim: seonghwa x hongjoong ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, fluff ➻ word count: 4.0k ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act four ➻ part 8.5

“You need rest too, Seonghwa.”

Said lieutenant lets his eyes flutter open at the sound of the voice, and he shifts to glance back at the person who just entered the room. It’s Jongho rather than Yunho for once; the damn healer won’t quit popping in to chastise Seonghwa for his less than stellar sleeping habits, but the lieutenant could not care less to be frank. If it’s for his captain, he would do whatever it takes no matter the sacrifice.

“Did you just come back from visiting Yeosang?” Seonghwa inquires instead of addressing the issue at hand. He pulls back a bit from Hongjoong’s bedside, knees scraping hard on the floor in a way that should burn, but his legs have long since gone somewhat numb. It’s a pointless pursuit really because Jongho already saw him pressed so close to Hongjoong’s side with both hands clasped over one of his captain’s clammy and cold ones. Still, it offers at least a bit of peace of mind to turn away and look at someone who is both conscious and responsive.

“I did, yeah.”

“And? How is he today?”

Jongho sways his head from side to side for a moment. Seonghwa doesn’t need to be a genius to understand what that means, but it does help in deciphering the lingering emotion behind Jongho’s red eyes.

“That bad?”

“I wish I could say he was better today but… nightmares.” Jongho inhales sharply. Perhaps Seonghwa should be the one tending to Yeosang’s mental state, but there is a bit of hesitance there because he feels quite a bit of failure himself when he looks at the Elitist. Once upon a time, he had sworn on pain of death that he would take care of Wooyoung and help keep him safe. He failed beautifully at doing even that simple task. Just as he failed you in his promises to keep you safe. As well as the endless promises he gave to Hongjoong about protecting him from harm.

Maybe that is the one thing Seonghwa is doomed to fail at time and time again without cease.

Still, this burden is a lot to put on Jongho’s shoulders, especially as a Berserker and especially since he lost someone himself.

“And you? Are you having nightmares as well?”

“Bold of you to assume that I’m even sleeping,” Jongho quips in response without a drop of hesitation. It stabs a deep gash into Seonghwa’s heart, one the emanates off his shoulders in waves. No doubt Jongho can feel that pain, but he doesn’t let his features shift in the slightest. “But no, I’m not having nightmares. Mingi is… I trust him. I know what he’s capable of and how much he’s willing to fight not only for himself but also for the crew. He is stronger than he knows, and his protective instincts are stronger than the bloodthirsty ones. He will keep them safe, and he’ll keep himself safe in the process. I’ve been sleeping on the couch in Yeosang’s room to help when he wakes up from the nightmares. Hard to sleep when he can barely go ten minutes without having bad dreams.”

“Ah,” Seonghwa exhales, and he needs no further explanation than that.

It is something Jongho used to do for San as well: stay in the young man’s room not long after the mutiny happened because the trauma and horrifying memories that the event resurfaced for San were nearly too much to bear. Jongho stayed in there for several months just to keep the man sane through the night. Seonghwa has never been on the receiving end of Jongho’s comfort, but he has seen the impact of it. Allowing someone to come so close to your heart and trauma is a special thing already, but having someone feel everything you feel while going through those traumatic memories is far more intimate. Despite his all too keen ability to help the crew through moments of emotional turmoil, Jongho rarely remembers to look after himself as well. He still absorbs those negative and overwhelming feelings, but he conceals the pains that he is left with as not to worry anyone. Seonghwa has watched the boy grow up — he knows him well enough to pick the pieces of his cracked shell away and see what’s underneath.

“You ought to sleep here tonight.” It isn’t an offer or something to be considered. Seonghwa might phrase it as one, but the command is in his tone and on his lips. “I’ll sleep in Yeosang’s room in case he wakes up from nightmares.”

“Seonghwa—”

“It is not up for discussion, Jongho.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” the Berserker argues, leveling Seonghwa with a pointed glare. “I’ll ask Yunho to sleep in there tonight, if that��s what will make you feel better. But Hongjoong… Captain could wake up at any minute, and if your face isn’t the first he sees—”

“That’s enough, Jongho.” Seonghwa doesn’t quite like the implication behind that comment. There are too many emotions tied to it, too many past memories that should stay buried in that, and Seonghwa has to swallow to push the growing lump in his throat down. “That will work fine, as long as you give yourself a night off to actually rest.”

“We didn’t leave these empty cots in here for no reason,” Jongho tries again. “At least try to sleep some tonight, if nothing else. We need everyone at high alert for whatever is to come out of this shady ass Spectre and the recovery mission.”

“Okay… okay, I’ll rest too,” Seonghwa relents. Jongho has a point, but the Berserker has always been both quick with his wits and on his feet. Perhaps if Hongjoong doesn’t awaken then —

That thought comes out of the blue, intrudes on his mind, and leaves him choked. Seonghwa clasps a shaky hand over his mouth as a gasp slips out. There is no hiding the sudden wave of emotions that washes over him, not with Jongho in the room, and the Berserker rushes forward to meet Seonghwa on the floor. His knees hit the wood so roughly that it hurts Seonghwa’s ears.

The easiest thing to do would be to get rid of the weak link and ascend to power.

Seonghwa can’t help but slam the heel of his hand down roughly on his temple. It is enough to drive that maddening voice in his head away for now, although moderately concerning to the man kneeling across from him. These thoughts come too easily these days; without Hongjoong there to keep him grounded with constant reminders, Seonghwa finds his hold on the thin thread losing strength with each passing second. Maybe that’s why he can’t truly rest, because he is in the same boat as Yeosang in terms of nightmares.

“Seonghwa…” Jongho’s voice holds warning in it, but the older man pushes that concern to the side and fixes his gaze on the young Berserker.

“I’m okay.”

“You know you can’t lie to me.”

“Yes, but I also know that there is nothing you can do for me, Jongho,” Seonghwa murmurs the words through a smile, and Jongho’s gaze turns almost melancholic.

“I could take it away,” he says, daring to look the lieutenant in the eye.

“Hongjoong gave you orders not to do that.”

“I’ve done it for San in the past. I… did it for Y/N once without her knowing too.”

“That was different, Jongho.” Seonghwa pushes a new resolution into his stare, hoping that it will be enough to dissuade the man. “The emotional and mental pain it would cause you is not something we need right now. Do not think to do it to me now, and certainly do not think to do it to Yeosang either.”

Jongho shakes his head a bit.

“Yeosang will be okay. I trust that. As awful as the nightmares are, it eases a bit to see Wooyoung even for a few seconds in his dreams. You on the other hand…”

Is he weak in Jongho’s eyes? Is that it? Seonghwa lets his gaze drop to the floor, then quickly pushes himself up to his full height. His legs are a bit wobbly at first thanks to how long he had been kneeling before Hongjoong’s cot, but he manages not to make a fool of himself and fall over on the spot.

“I’m perfectly okay, and I will be even better when Hongjoong wakes up. Now please go get some rest.” Jongho exhales a deep sigh but doesn’t fight the lieutenant’s words. Just as he is turning on his heel to leave the room though, a new thought flashes across Seonghwa’s mind, and he calls out after Jongho to stop him. “Also, Jongho — if you could please check in with Y/N, just to see how she is? I think… I think the combination of seeing a person from her past and the stress of the others being gone is weighing on her more than she claims.”

“Of course. I was going to head over there regardless.”

If the relief shows on Seonghwa’s features, Jongho decides not to comment on it and leaves without any further ado. Seonghwa doesn’t turn back to look at Hongjoong’s reclining body until the door snaps shut behind Jongho. The silence that returns is thick and palpable, almost choking the lieutenant with its strength. He weaves around the side of the empty cot beside Hongjoong’s and nudges it carefully forward until the bed lies directly beside where his captain lies. Yunho will surely make his rounds again later, but Seonghwa cannot find it in him to care, even if his actions are grossly pathetic and pitiful on many levels. He doesn’t want to think about how sad it must look to see the renowned Lieutenant of Death stooping so low as to lie beside his captain simply because he cannot handle this prolonged unconsciousness. He isn’t sure there has ever been a period of time like this before where Hongjoong was absent in such a way, not since before Seonghwa met him at least.

Seonghwa slips onto the cold and empty cot, tugging the blanket atop back so he can situate himself underneath, and once he’s fully reclined, he dares to let himself look over Hongjoong’s features.

Relaxed and calm for once. Too often does he see the man with brows knit together in concern and worry. This is a welcome change, even if it comes with having to see scratches and bruises on Hongjoong’s otherwise flawless visage.

Seonghwa twists onto his side and faces the man before stretching a hesitant hand out to comb Hongjoong’s unkempt hair down.

Get rid of the weak link.

There goes that nagging voice again. Seonghwa has to remind himself that it isn’t him necessarily; rather it is the result of amassing rumors and things people have made him out to be over the years.

Hongjoong is many things, but weak is not and could never be one of them.

People call Seonghwa the Lieutenant of Death for a reason, and sometimes he lets himself be consumed by their words and beliefs. According to Hongjoong, that is what caused that little voice to rise and gain power in Seonghwa’s mind. The lieutenant has found himself thinking about the initial conversation that happened well over a year ago more and more these past few days. It is that same memory that comes over him and lives in his dreams when his eyelids finally droop. Seonghwa falls asleep with his hand falling to rest over the steady rise and fall of Hongjoong’s chest, right over where his heart beats on and on beneath the confines of his body.

…

“Do you… do you ever get that voice in your head? The inhumane one who can only be cruel?” Seonghwa asks, tone shaky and unsteady as he presents the question to Hongjoong. The young captain stands across the room with hands trailing over his shelves in search of one book in particular, but Seonghwa’s question stops him in his tracks.

“Yes. Always. More often than not, I listen to it. Kim Hongjoong is not the Scourge of the Black Sea. They are two separate entities — one is merely a captain trying to do what he can for his crew. The other is a monster, cold and heartless who does not know the meaning of mercy or kindness. He kills for sport because it’s fun, easy, ruthless. It’s what he is good at. He works towards a revenge that can never be achieved.”

“That’s not true, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa insists through a slight sigh. He lets his weight fall onto the edge of Hongjoong’s desk, arms coming up to cross over his chest in a way that is meant to chastise his captain, but the other man barely spares him a glance.

“No, but it is what people believe me to be. And if I cave in to their desires and believe them for even a second, then that nasty voice in my head wins. I will be all those things and more. But most of all, I will lose everything I have worked towards all these years. I will lose all the care I have for this crew, the passion and determination I have for my goal, the sheer will to keep on living. The Scourge of the Black Sea has no need for anything of those things, but Kim Hongjoong does. I have to remind myself of that every single day to keep from losing my mind.”

“That’s all it takes?” Seonghwa’s tone holds a certain suspension of disbelief to it.

“Are you Park Seonghwa or are you my Lieutenant of Death?”

“I am yours. Whatever that entails.”

That catches Hongjoong a bit off-guard, and the man actually sputters and fumbles with his next words upon hearing Seonghwa’s quick-spoken statement. He recovers just as quickly though, not leaving any further cracks in his composure, and steps closer to where Seonghwa leans against the desk.

“Allow me to rephrase that question then.” Hongjoong keeps moving forward until there is minimal space left between their bodies, and Seonghwa tries not to be haughty in the way he has to look down to meet his captain’s gaze. “Are you merely what others make you out to be? Or is the Seonghwa who stands in front of me now more than that? More than a bloodthirsty and heartless grunt who cannot think for himself. A failed soldier who is only good at following orders. Someone so cruel that even death itself would turn his back in shame because of the destruction you leave in your wake. Is that the Seonghwa I know?”

“Never,” Seonghwa whispers into the space between them. Hongjoong squints a little and presses ever closer. The elder of the two can feel the other’s breath panting hard against his own lips, and the sensation sends chills down his spine and leaves goosebumps to trail over his arms.

“Never,” Hongjoong echoes through a small smile. “Because my Park Seonghwa is one who is kind and compassionate. A person who loves without fail or error, forgives with too much ease, cares for others more than he cares for himself. Cherishes the loyal and spurns the betrayers. Looks for the good in others yet is quickest to judge himself in times of distress. My Park Seonghwa gives… and gives without even thinking to stop something for himself, and should he ever do what is necessary for his own good, he calls it selfish desire. So no, you are not my Lieutenant of Death. And as long as you remember that, remember why you are not and can never be that entity — that monster who resides deep in your heart and soul — that voice will never win. It will never take over. You will never be what they make you out to be.”

“I cannot remember that without you, Joong,” Seonghwa murmurs. Perhaps he lets too much emotion slip into his tone or he is overstepping his boundaries in their little hierarchy. Hongjoong doesn’t chastise him or ridicule him for the words, though.

“And luckily for you, we spend nearly every minute together. I will — I’ll remind you of it however often you need me to.” Hongjoong draws his lower lip between his teeth and chews at the skin a few times. “I trust you to remind me that I am more than my failures, as you have done so every day since the mutiny.”

The mutiny. They don’t discuss that event. It is too raw, too emotional, too sensitive for Hongjoong. How long has it been now? Three months? Two? Most definitely two, maybe less. It isn’t that Seonghwa doesn’t understand why it is a touchy subject — he merely learned early on not to grow too attached to people in his life. He supposes he is making a mockery of that lesson as he looks deep into Hongjoong’s dark eyes and regards the man with so much care and affection.

Hongjoong begins to drop his chin, but Seonghwa is quicker, hands stretching out to cup the man’s face just under his jaw. He isn’t sure why exactly he does that; something comes over him and causes him to reach out. Hongjoong blinks back at him with wide eyes. The lights in the room reflect off those dark orbs and make Seonghwa see stars in them.

Seonghwa doesn’t realize that his jaw is hanging open until his mouth goes dry, and he chokes on a parched throat as he tries to swallow around nothing. Hongjoong pushes the flat of his hand to Seonghwa’s chest. For a moment, the older man thinks he is trying to push him away and he starts to withdraw his hands, but the Hongjoong pushes ever closer until his knees push between Seonghwa’s.

“You were the first to trust me. The first to join me. The only one who didn’t look down on me. You didn’t treat me like a slave, didn’t amount me to being a former slave, nor did you judge me when you learned of my true class. You, Park Seonghwa, who had nothing in life but a will to live, gave me everything. I may not be able to give you the same in return, but I don’t take that sacrifice lightly.” Seonghwa’s jaw stutters as he tries to come up with the right words to say. All his mind can do is repeat ‘I’m not him, I never will be, I cannot be what he was, I cannot replace him’.

“I’m not Jin,” he says without thinking, and that causes Hongjoong to draw back all of a sudden. Seonghwa’s hands slip away from his face. He draws back so much that the space between their bodies is suddenly infinite, and Seonghwa regrets speaking so fucking much that the sensation nearly cripples him. “Hongjoong, that’s not — I didn’t mean—”

“Perhaps I have done something wrong along the way if you truly believe that is all I would amount you to,” Hongjoong bites out, cutting off the apology on Seonghwa’s lips. “I do not think you to be a replacement of any kind. Yes, Jin and I had a special relationship, we were close, I trusted him. But you, Seonghwa, you have always been more. I told you that when I asked you to be my Lieutenant. You asked why I chose you over him and maybe it is just as simple as the fact that I trust you.”

Hongjoong heaves a deep breath and shifts to blink at the ceiling. Seonghwa gnaws on the inside of his cheek with shame burning his neck and face. When Hongjoong speaks again, he draws closer to Seonghwa once more, this time with more haste and force. He grips Seonghwa’s chin harshly between his fingers, squeezing the skin so hard that it stings a bit. Seonghwa doesn’t dare to move under the captain’s touch though; he lets Hongjoong yank him down to be eye level and stares back without blinking.

“You are treasure, Seonghwa. You have always been a treasure to me, since long before I ever learned that you’re a Siren. Before you, I had nothing to live for or protect except a desperate need for revenge.” Hongjoong’s eyes glisten now. Seonghwa can’t recall even a single instance where he saw the man cry, not even in the aftermath of the mutiny, and that shatters his resolve more than anything else. “I came to want to protect you. And as the crew grew, you taught me to care for them as well, to protect them and cherish them. Jin never taught me that, you did. My Park Seonghwa, my lieutenant, my treasure.”

Seonghwa can’t help himself. He brushes the pads of his fingers over Hongjoong’s cheek as though to merely confirm that the man is real and standing before him. Before he can blink, Hongjoong twists his neck and presses a soft kiss to those lingering fingers. Seonghwa finds himself stunned into a frozen state. The man before him keeps kissing along the length of his fingers, his free hand pulling up to interlock their fingers when he reaches the bend of Seonghwa’s wrist. It is certainly not their first kiss — they shared many fumbling and awkward and meaningless attempts at kisses in their early years along with several small drunken pecks that were given merely as comfort and nothing more. They never had much emotion tied to them, not any romantic ones in the very least. Some went just like this, some were ghosting touches on the head or nose or cheek or even on the lips, few and far between but they certainly added up over the years.

Hongjoong pulls Seonghwa down the rest of the way. When their lips collide, the taste is salty and wet on Seonghwa’s tongue, but he doesn’t stop to think about that. Instead, he throws his arms about Hongjoong’s waist and pulls him to his chest as though to kiss the tears away just like this. Seonghwa hates to say that this one feels different because it could just be something meant to comfort each other now. It could only be different because Hongjoong cries against him now, hands dropping to fumble and grasp at Seonghwa’s shoulders and back as he tries to lessen the already minimal space between their bodies.

They have to pull apart because Hongjoong sobs into Seonghwa’s mouth, and the latter detaches their lips so they can catch their breath. Rather than hiding his face, Hongjoong blinks furiously against the tears and stares Seonghwa directly in the eye without shame or insecurity.

“You once swore to stay by my side for eternity. I never answered you then but I will now, and I won’t ask you to stay or demand that you do that. Whether I live or die, however this journey ends, whether we succeed or fail, I will do it with you no matter what. We do this together or not at all. Whatever together means — should it be as simple as you being on the crew and not caring for me in the slightest, or with you at my side like this.”

God, that hurts so much. It burns Seonghwa’s chest and leaves him with a deep gash that festers and boils over. He can’t bring himself to say anything in response. He knows his own tears are ready to spill down the balls of his cheeks, so rather than making them fall faster by trying to speak, he merely tugs Hongjoong back to him and seals their lips together once more.

✧✧✧ a/n: hi :3 surprise :3 guess who :3 seongjoong time :3 insight time :3 hints and bread crumb trail throughout :3 im playing but fr there are hints there are insights there are emotions and lots of serious talk and i’ve been wanting to write another piece on seongjoong for the longest time so i’m glad this idea came to me and i am even MORE glad that it turned out the way it did! fr this hiatus has been too good to me, i’ve never been more proud of my work than i am now!

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @babydolljo @scintillating-souls @khjssss @felixity @rawrrainn @hewwo-from-the-other-side @icekdy

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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pandoraborn · 3 years

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Characters: Captain Puffy, Tommyinnit Word count: 1510 words Content: death, ghost!Tommy, mentions of abuse, closure, peace

---

As she wanders the ruins of L’Manburg, Puffy stops at every landmark. Even now, there’s wood smoldering, as if unwilling to put out the flames of destruction Dream had caused. She knows now it was Dream, she can understand more what he’d done behind the scenes when no one else was paying attention.

She’s not sure why she’s here or what she’s looking for. There’s nothing here but a few broken chests with cracked and splintered remains of what Tommy used to own. Puffy could try to salvage anything that’s left, but that would also go against the whole purpose of turning this place into a monument.

She leans against the large tower not too far away. This must be the one Tommy jumped off of before running to Techno’s. It’s easy enough to guess that’s what happened, what with Tubbo rushing back in tears to announce Tommy’s death, before sweeping everything under the rug. God, she can’t imagine how he’s feeling now.

Tears spring to her eyes as he pulls away from the tower. It’s pointless to dwell on everything negative here, it’s pointless to even be here. Puffy knows she’s only here to assuage her own guilt over letting Tommy remain in exile, even though she’d tried her best to help him cope.

“I wouldn’t feel too guilty if I were you.”

Puffy almost wants to chalk that up to a hallucination. She wants to pinch herself and tell herself this is a dream, but when she turns toward the water, the ghostly form of Tommy is sitting there, letting his bare feet dangle.

He looks like he did before exile: a healthy teenager with no wear and tear. He’s sitting, with one leg drawn up to his chest and resting his arms on that knee. In his hands is some of Wilbur’s blue, and Tommy’s got a grin on his face.

Most notable is the lack of grey pigment in his skin. He’s very clearly a ghost, but he doesn’t actually look like one.

“Tommy?” Puffy feels like the air had been knocked out of her. “You’re... you’re here?”

“Yeah, isn’t it weird?” He laughs as he tosses blue at her feet. His eyes are shining a bright blue, brighter than they had been in life. “One minute I’m screaming for Sam to let me out, and the next minute I’m sat here, contemplating everything. I’ve come to the conclusion that it sucks.”

Puffy remains silent as she bends down at the knee, gently grabbing at the blue. Trembling fingers grasp at it as she straightens back up, staring at the small object. The silence drags on for too long, so she opts to sit down next to him.

“Tommy-”

“You know, I never understood why Ghostbur kept throwing blue at everyone,” Tommy interrupts. “I thought it was just something he did, y’know? He was weird like that, but I was just so happy to have him around that I accepted it as one of his many annoying quirks. But now I think I understand more. It’s easy to let things go if you don’t have to think about them. I can just take this shit, fill it with my own shit and trauma and whatever, toss it out and move on. It’s like it’s physically gone.”

“You remember?” Puffy watches him through her peripheral vision. He’s manifesting more...whatever it is, watching as it turns to blue. He hands her another one. “Wilbur didn’t remember.”

“I wanted to remember. I wouldn’t be as awesome if I was some fake happy version of myself, would I?”

She has to admit that he’s right.

“Look, I see it all over your face Puffy. I just wanted to tell you to stop feeling guilty, alright? You didn’t do it. You couldn’t have prevented it.”

Tears fill her vision. “It was my job to protect you. You were a child, Tommy. I should have done more for you.”

“I wouldn’t have let you in, you know. You or Sam or anyone who wanted to help. I was responsible for me, I didn’t want anyone’s pity.” He tosses a blue into the water. Puffy watches it slip below the surface. “It’s why Sam Nook was created. If Sam had tried to help directly I would have pushed him away. You don’t have to feel so guilty.”

“But we do, Tommy. We do feel guilty, we do feel responsible. You might feel like it was just you against the world, but we did care.”

“I know. I’m glad you cared; that was more than enough for me. Sometimes that’s all I want from anyone, is just to know.” He offers her a more gentle grin. It’s so Tommy, but it’s also something far wiser than he should have to be. As if he knows what’s waiting for him on the other side.

“Are you going to be around, like Ghostbur?”

“Nah. I’m not giving that green bastard a chance to toy with me. You know he’s going to, so I’m going to take my L and move on with Wilbur. He’s waiting for me, you know.”

Fresh tears spring to her eyes. The idea that Tommy doesn’t want to stick around feels hollow, but she can understand his logic there, too. “So we’ll never see you again?”

“Puffy.” Tommy sighs as he presses a hand to her shoulder. He uses her as stability while getting to his feet. “Sometimes people don’t come back after death, y’know. Schlatt and Wilbur did, but sometimes they just don’t. I don’t have any unfinished business. Mine was bringing Wilbur back, but since I’m not around anymore, there’s really no point to it, is there?”

“Yeah, but your friends-”

“-don’t need me as much as they think they do.” There’s another one of his bright smiles. “This isn’t a sad ending, Pussy. What was it you were saying yesterday? This is a new age, isn’t it? You and Sam, you two are going to lead them somewhere new. Build a statue in my honor, alright? Make it the coolest statue ever. Bigger than anyone else, so the world will know how big of a man I am.”

Puffy laughs. Not just at his words, but his purposeful use of the name ‘Pussy’. Even now, he’s resorting to being obnoxious and crude, and she knows she’s going to miss it. “Tommy, you were the best of all of us.”

“Nah.” He snorts and shakes his head. “Do me one last favor, will you?”

“If it’s to beat up Dream, I’ll gladly take that on.”

“Okay, well two favors then.” Tommy’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Give some blue to Tubbo, will you?” He offers her a few pieces, which she takes carefully, treating them like something extremely fragile, which they are.

“Any message you want me to pass to him?”

“Yeah: ‘it’ll be okay’.”

“That’s it?” Puffy lifts an eyebrow. “No ‘I love you’, no ‘you’ll carry on my legacy’, anything like that?”

“Puffy, Tubbo doesn’t need messages like that. He’s not that deep.” Tommy rolls his eyes. “No, just that it’ll be okay. He’ll be okay without me, he’ll be okay being Tubbo. He’s got Snowchester and shit, he’ll be okay.”

Puffy nods. “I’ll give him the blue and the message then, Tommy. Are you off?”

“Yeah. I can already hear Wilbur screaming at me and calling me a child. I’ve got to go punch his stupid face in, because I’m a big man and I can take him, even dead.”

Puffy laughs at that. Even with tears streaming down her cheeks, she feels a new sort of joy. “Tommy, can I hug you goodbye?”

No words are exchanged here, Tommy silently complies. He feels warm, so she wraps her arms firmly around him, holding him close. The hug is doing wonders; it’s like every inch of sadness is being pulled out of her, like he’s trying his best to help. When he finally pulls away, Puffy still feels light.

“It’ll be okay, Puffy,” Tommy says. He drops more blue at her feet. “Don’t let shit get you down too much, alright? You’re Captain Puffy, and you know better than anyone what needs to be done. But also don’t hesitate to ask for help when you need it.”

With that, he’s gone. Disappeared into some beyond, or afterlife, or wherever he’s going. Puffy doesn’t necessarily know where that might be, but knowing he’s with Wilbur in the end has her feeling better.

Bending down, she picks up the last of the blue. She wonders if when they all die, they’ll end up with blue, but that’s a fleeting thought as she puts it all in her backpack.

He’s right, it is a new age. She’s not going to let him down by wallowing in misery, not when she has a whole server to clean up. Marching toward the portal, Puffy wears a smile on her face. She’s got a new pep in her step, and she’s not going to let anyone take that away from her.

Not this time.

#mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp fanfic #spoilers #spoilers fic #death tw #ghost!tommyinnit #tommyinnit #captain puffy #c!tommy #c!puffy #peace #closure #abuse mention #bittersweet #long post #miishae writes

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

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hi! can you do hcs for jake and terry's friendship? i think it's very underrated because jake has holt as a father figure but terry also sees jake as "one of his daughters" and i believe there are no hcs about them out there. jake is his daughter's godfather and they are huge nerds together and we don't talk enough about that 😞

- let's be real Terry is kind of jealous/disappointed when Holt comes around and everyone, especially Jake, suddenly latches onto him as the Dad-figure. Like, what is he, chopped liver?! He's been dad-ing the heck out of this squad for years now! Especially Jake, the little traitor!

- (he, slightly tipsy after one evening beer, rants about this to Sharon at which point she goes 'honey... you've never been the dad of the squad. You're the mom' and you know what? She's right. So he decides to mother-hen even more.)

- so yeah he's definitely taking up more responsibility for Jake than ever and tries to be more of a doting yet helpful mom rather than a stern dad (which he's not good at either, look at him with his girls, you think he can be strict?!). And considering how much Jake needs praise+support, you know he latches onto that. Terry worries about him, and he can't disappoint Terry, can he? So he definitely tries to be better and sometimes it works and sometimes it gets him a 'good job, bud' and if he had a tail it would definitely be clearing the entire precinct from wagging so hard

- "I talk a lot about Jake in my departmentally mandated therapy sessions" sounded like a dig and yeah most of the time he does moan and complain about his chaotic boy, but a lot of times he's also complaining about "he's got so much potential, but I don't know how to push him right to get him there, I need to be more supportive"

- that family-relationship grows a bit as Jake grows too, when they discover shared likes (like the fantasy books) and end up being more real friends than just superior/mom and officer/son. Terry realises that Jake is the perfect option to go to when he wants to go a little crazy and relax more (like they all said he should) and just say yes to some of his crazy ideas for a night out. Likewise, Jake is glad to have someone along who's alert enough to say 'We really gotta stop guys' instead of Charles who'd do anything for him or Rosa who just wants to watch the trainwreck

- sometimes Sharon will just look at her husband and go 'why don't you ask Jake for a night out, you need it. I'll get the salad bowl ready' and she's right every time, he really needed whatever stupid thing they get into. But he also notes Jake constantly checking his watch during their night out and then making sure the antics stop early enough that Terry can go home to his kids without feeling like he's missing something or is being left out. (Sometimes Jake will even bring him home if he's had too much to drink, and say hi to the twins and Ava - and Sharon of course - and talk to them about how awesome their dad is)

- and they do bond a lot over Ava because Jake is such a good godfather! He's being so responsible and grown-up with this kid, Terry can hardly believe it. It's when Jake's holding his little baby and talking to her all soft and careful that he thinks he and Amy definitely, absolutely have a future together, and he's going to support them as best as he can.

- later on Terry is definitely Jake's first go-to for husband/father advice. Yes there's Holt, but both his relationship and family ways are very different and sometimes he definitely can't relate. If Captain Crunch was the primary rolemodel for Jake as a kid, Terry is definitely the primary rolemodel for Jake as a husband/father. He's 100% the kind of husband and father Jake hopes he can be, so he's not afraid to ask him about the things that worry him and feels so relieved when he hears that Terry had to deal with those kind of fears too

- on the flipside Jake is the only one Terry feels comfortable talking about his hobbies / aspirations with because he's the only one who doesn't try to point out negatives or judges, he's just all encouragement and interest. And Terry really needs that. He keeps asking him if he's written anything new, and he actually reads it when Terry sends it to him (I mean, Amy has gotten him more into reading anyway but it's still a werd thing to see from Peralta). Jake remembers bits from his stories almost as well as he remembers the Skyfire trilogies, which just makes Terry feel so proud.

- when one of his short stories gets published in a little collection Terry definitely dedicates it to Sharon, his little girls and his big boy

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #terry jeffords

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Charlie Chan. Who is fascinating, because he was created explictly to be an anti-Yellow Peril character. Unlike most Chinese characters of the time, he's both intelligent, physically capable, and unambiguously heroic. In the novels, he's simultaneously proud of being Chinese AND proud of being an American citizen. He gives orders and instructions to white people, and the narrative treats this as perfectly normal and acceptable. There's a bit in the first book, when an attempt to trap the..(1/2)

(cont'd)There's a bit in the first book where an attempt to trap the protagonist fails, because a message supposedly from Charlie clearly isn't because Charlie's English isn't broken, it's like poetry. Etc. The movies made him more stereotypical, & played by white actors in yellowface, but still, he's a heroic Chinese man, who is as capable and patriotic as any white man. Nowadays, he's thought of as racist caricature. Which he is, but still, it makes one think.

I'm not nearly as acquainted with Charlie Chan as you are (and I definitely suspected he was less racist in the original books because that's nearly always the norm when it comes to pulp characters) but yeah, that "Which he is" is forever going to be the most unfortunate and saddest part of it all when it comes to Charlie Chan. For all the virtues that can be bestowed on Charlie Chan, for everything great that the character had going for him and inspired, the fact that the least offensive image of the character I could find to put here for illustration's sake is from the Hanna-Barbera cartoon kinda exemplifies the big elephant in the room when it comes to Charlie.

Charlie Chan is a great example of two things: One is the way progress is never a fixed quantity and often what was progressive and forward-thinking in it's time can become something outdated and backwards and downright offensive given enough time, and the 2nd is my constant stressing that this is all the more incentive to reclaim the pulps and either highlight or fix aspects of them, instead of dismissing every aspect of them based on the preconception that everything about it's history is unforgivably bigoted and must be handled with the nuance of a sledgehammer.

I stress time and time again the need to highlight and understand the prejudices that went into pulps, because either ignoring them or wielding them as a weapon to attack them does no favors to anyone. The pulps weren't exceptionally bigoted - look at literally any medium in it's time period and you'll find bigotry and prejudice and hatred - and they were exceptional in the number of POC heroes and heroines. Pulps were a medium of experimentation and cheap entertainment that gave way to much, much more varied kinds of protagonists than were permitted in films, serials, novels, comics and radio serials of the day. Imagine if no one was allowed to bring up and discuss superheroes without mentioning the Superman Slap-a-Jap posters or the Captain Marvel story so horrifingly racist it was recounted by an American ambassador after it deeply offended a friend's son and a major influence on the 1950s anti-comic trials. "Pulp fiction had deeply, unforgivingly racist depictions that deserve intense scrutiny and cannot be ignored" and "Pulp fiction was significantly ahead of every other medium at the time in regards to authors and editors striving to publish stories about heroic POCs, this cannot be dismissed and is something that needs to be perpetuated" are not exclusive facts. "A product of it's time" is not an excuse and never was, but it's a fact nevertheless.

Every time someone speaks favorably of Charlie Chan in any capacity, they have to start with a long preface of everything positive that the character had going for him. Yes, he's a deliberate subversion of the Yellow Peril, he's a heroic protagonist, he's plump and good-natured and humorous but far from a joke, he's friendly and pleasant and well-educated and wise, he's a good dad and family man and a terrifically sharp detective who's so good at his job he gets called to solve crimes all over the world, and none of these traits are apparent to people who have to google the character and repeteadly see a white man in awful make-up into every single image of the character, who watch the movies and cringe at the broken English. It's hardly relevant in the face of all the Asian-American critics who acknowledge the character's virtues but rightfully point out that this fortune-cookie spouting caricature, acting subservient to whites and whose virtues are based around his proximity to a white American ideal, doesn't represent them and they shouldn't pretend it does.

Which isn't to say that to like Charlie Chan is "wrong", a lot of East Asians love Charlie and the character's obviously got fans in Asian Americans. It's a complicated subject and I obviously cannot begin to vouch in a subject so heavily based around perceptions I cannot experience. And I deeply detest the idea of speaking for others on their particular experiences on this kind of matter, which is something Americans do a lot everytime they talk about representation in media.

So instead, I'm going to tackle this on a roundabout manner by going on an unrelated tangent to bring up an example of representation that isn't quite representative of what it's supposed to be, has a lot of issues that have been dissected by critics among the people it was supposed to represent, and none of that stopped the character from being popular and beloved and from being claimed anyway. And it's a Brazilian fighting game character, which means it's completely within my ballpark.

Yeah, obviously Blanka doesn't look like anyone who lives in Brazil (whatever resemblance he bears to redheaded jungle protectors of Brazilian folklore is purely accidental). Obviously neither Jimmy nor Blanka are Brazilian names or even exist in the Portuguese lexicon. Obviously there are issues in Street Fighter's approach to representation across the board, sure, and I'd actually say Laura is much worse than Blanka in that regard (again, my opinion, obviously not universal), but the fact remains that Blanka is and has always been pretty controversial. Obviously there's Brazilians who took offense to Blanka and they weren't wrong to do so, and I obviously do not speak for everyone here, that goes without saying.

Obviously the idea that Brazil's major representative in a global cast of characters, the first big name Brazilian character in videogames, is going to be a freakish jungle monster who roars and bites faces has problems, as is the fact that all the others get to be regular people representing fighting styles from their countries while Blanka doesn't. None of the Brazilian SF characters represent Capoeira, which is kinda shitty to be honest. And there's a whole stereotype of Brazil as a backwards land of beasts and savages that Blanka's creation played into. There's no shortage of ground to criticize Blanka's representation and Ono actually apologized in an interview once, but then he learned one teensy little thing:

Street Fighter is very popular on Brazil. Would you like to leave a message to the fans from there?

"Ono: Yes, I'm aware. At the time of Street Fighter II a lot of the arcade machines produced went there, so I knew we had lots of fans there. A message to Brazilians, well, I'd like to apologize. I know Blanka's a weird character and I don't want any Brazilian to feel uncomfortable with that.

When Blanka was conceived, we knew there were forests in Brazil, and so we thought he could look like that. I was actually kinda nervous knowing I'd meet Brazilian journalists. Still, this is the first Street Fighter in ten years, so we'd like all fans to play, including Brazilians, which are many.

Thanks. Well, but you should know that Brazilians love Blanka

"Ono: Ah, good! I was scared of getting beat up if I ever went to São Paulo! (laughs)"

(That's from a 2012 tv special called The Greatest Brazilian of All Time where over a million viewers voted to elect whoever they wanted, and Blanka was going to win. He was polling ahead of Aryton Senna and PELÉ, fucking Pelé, yes this happened. He wasn't even disqualified for being a cartoon character, it was an open poll, he was disqualified due to canon stating he had been born in Thailand, which I think may have been retconned since then. Again, A MILLION BRAZILLIANS voted for this contest, and Blanka was going to win.)

Blanka is great and sweet and lovable, he made the best out of the incredible shitty hands fate dealt him and became a cool and strong green man who shoots lightning and flies, a self-taught warrior who rides whales and planes to fighting tournaments, and he loves his mom and friends and kicks ass and after he's done he dances in joy and gives the kids of his village piggyback rides, and Brazil loves him. He doesn't represent any existing person or fighting style, he's rooted in a negative stereotype and incorrect assumptions, he's not even really Brazilian, and he's our boy and nobody can take him away from us.

No criticism of Blanka, no matter how in-depth or even right it is, is ever going to affect that, because regardless of what was wrong or misguided and offensive about him, we claimed him and loved him so throughly that Capcom kept playing up Brazilian representation in every subsequent game post Alpha, and because of Blanka's impact and reception in such a big game, Brazilian characters have become a staple of fighting games, and that's how we got much more diverse representatives in those games. Fighting games have more Brazilian representation than LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE on media not produced here. It started as BAD representation, with way less thought put into it than Charlie Chan, and it still mattered to a lot of Brazilians who reclaimed it and made it better than it was ever intended to be, and as a response to it, it gradually became better.

Progress is not a fixed quantity, it's an uphill battle, and it's not unwinnable. Everything's gotta start somewhere.

The Good Asian is a ongoing comic that I think does the best job I've seen yet of handling an Asian American detective protagonist, which is not really a high bar in the first place, and more to the point, The Good Asian illustrates the 2nd part: the reclaiming. The Good Asian deals a lot with the realities that a 1930s Asian-American detective would run into, the strained circumstances and relationships between said character and the world around him, because it's born from an author who took a look at Charlie Chan and Mr Moto and the like and recognized the potential in those stories that could not be fulfilled in it's time period by the people writing said stories.

The Good Asian pays little reverence to Charlie Chan, but it acknowledges that it cannot exist without Charlie Chan, and it reclaims the Charlie Chan premise at the hands of someone more adequately equipped to tell a gripping story that goes places none of Charlie's contemporaries would ever go. Regardless of how good or bad of representation Charlie Chan was, Charlie Chan mattered and was beloved and inspired a better example for others to improve on or rebel against.

I desperately wish that I could google Charlie Chan without having to look at a guy in yellowface, and the ONLY way that's going to happen is if the character ever gets meaningfully brought back and reclaimed for good by people who can meaningfully tackle the character and present him as he should have always been presented.

And then, I imagine it would be a lot easier to show people on how swell Charlie really is. A true, positive role model and hero, who no longer has to look like a gross cartoon to be able to exist at all. Who can finally be what he was always meant to be, and always was deep down.

#replies tag #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #charlie chan #detective fiction #the good asian #street fighter #blanka

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ak8shi · 4 years

Text

Astrology Analysis: Akaashi Keiji

☼ sagittarius ☽ taurus ☿ sagittarius ♀︎ capricorn ♂︎ capricorn

Masterlist

━Personality:

Akaashi takes a lot of pride in his intellect, as he should! even though he comes off extremely logical when he’s playing volleyball, he can also think abstractly and creatively. he is someone who wants to explore and travel in his lifetime. i mean, he’s great at strategizing and dealing with Bokuto at the same time, so he can juggle these different problem-solving skills.

i think we can all agree Akaashi has a calming presence in general, and he notices very subtle things happening around him that others may not pick up on, such as him being the only one to notice kageyama choking and handing him water LMAOO. the combination of his sagittarius sun and taurus moon gives him an underlying warmness, even though he may come off as aloof or stoic to others.

Akaashi is often someone who battles with whether he should be listening to his heart or to logic; he is very introspective when it comes to life and why things happen...and that’s on no matter what others may say, we are the protagonists of the world 🤪!

when I saw that his lilith sign was cancer, I had to laugh because it's SO like him💀. he hates asking others for help or leaning on others, and he probably won’t immediately tell you if something is wrong. you need to let him know that it is okay to ask for help sometimes (please someone hug him)!!!

his cap aspects also give him outstanding leadership skills, I mean he’s truly captain material! he is highly analytical and understands where his teammates are at, and he can assess tough situations aka him trying to help Bokuto lmfao.

maybe this was only surprising to me, but he’s a smooth talker okayyy, like that sag mercury? He just knows what to say except when it comes to expressing his feelings HAHA

━In a relationship:

like Kuroo, he has a taurus moon and definitely would have to know you for a long period of time before anything else; additionally, he’s not here for games with his capricorn aspects, and he simply isn’t going to waste his time...but if you’re special to him, he’ll protect you with his life honestly.

Square between Mercury and Saturn: Akaashi may not be the best at expressing himself through words at first, but when he says something, he really means it and thinks things through before speaking. i think we see this a lot with the way he talks to Bokuto, he doesn’t tease him or really make fun of him like everyone else on Fukurodani, he thinks about what is going to make the situation better to lead Bokuto into a better mood rather than saying whatever comes to mind! with a s/o I think he definitely would take into account your love language (if its words of affirmation, he would work on it), but I think his main love language would be doing acts of service for his s/o to show he cares.

Venus in Capricorn: I’m a little biased because I also have a cap venus, but I love this about him! he would woo his s/o by showing them that he has his life together basically lol, he’s the type to bring you to a coffee shop near his office to be like “oh what a coincidence..lemme tell you about my job...” Akaashi is someone who triple checks that you are the one, and then once he knows, he commits to you 1000%, ride or die type beat.

also with a cap venus, he likes to daydream about domesticity! he loves the idea of a family and settling down with his soulmate!

he is willing to work so hard for you, especially with those capricorn placements, he’s not half-assing your relationship and expects the same effort from you.

he would love a dressy night out to a high-end restaurant, and suit and tie events! don’t get me wrong, he would love spending time with you doing anything, but he just loves getting dressed up!!

━Sex/Love:

when I saw that he had a capricorn venus and mars,,, I shivered, it makes SO SO much sense to me!! He takes it slow and steady, and he likes to draw out sex. no quickies, unless you’re both extremely desperate. the most important thing for him is being in control!

I think a lot of people think he’s a soft dom… but girl that is NOT what his chart is saying… his true self falls somewhere close to hard dom sorry!

Akaashi has a conjunction between venus and mars, so he’s extremely passionate and for him, the energy formed within your relationship transfers directly to the sexual relationship, let me explain: if the relationship is more friends with benefits, he will not see it as more than that most likely. if you form a strong relationship based on strong and compassionate love, that will transfer to how he acts in the bedroom.

WHEW, okay so Akaashi gets off on seeing you unravel basically. he wants you to come as many times as possible before he’s even taken a piece of clothing off; he indulges in the feeling of being responsible for your pleasure and being the only one to control you.

however, even though he feel love towards you, he doesn’t really like lovey-dovey sex; he enjoys more dettached, rough sex, he isn’t going to go easy on you!!

he might be into pet names, even going as far as being degrading towards you(with your permission of course) and he’s definitely into things like bondage and blindfolding🥵

Akaashi is really into biting, marking, and long makeout sessions as well; he wants to see you with hickies all over.

MULTIPLE ROUNDS, period. he has great endurance and he can hold himself back from finishing for SO long, truly a man.

however, once he sees that you’ve had enough, the iciness in his eyes disappears and he turns into the king of aftercare, that taurus moon JUMPS out.

━Favorite aspects:

Trine between Moon and Neptune: I LOVE this about him he has such as affinity towards music and the arts in general. Akaashi lives with music around him as inspiration, and he’s definitely the type that listens to music pertaining to his mood!

Sextile between Moon and Saturn: Akaashi comes off very reserved not because he’s unemotional, but because he’s actually very mature. even in a crisis, he rarely loses his cool and is able to work through the situation calmly and responsibly, which is shown every time he has to deal with one of Bokuto’s mood swings on the court. he is definitely the type of person who has his shit together due to his ability to set realistic goals, prioritize, stay organized, and work diligently🤓. (Individuals with this aspect are often known to appear elegant and attractive, which is so fitting for our pretty setter!)

━Negative aspects:

Square between Sun and Saturn: as someone who doesn’t experience failure often, I can definitely see how this aspect could cause akaashi to struggle mentally. in the face of failure or someone failing to acknowledge his efforts towards something, he gets in his head immediately, he has very high standards for himself. mental blocks are common with him when he can’t seem to figure out something that is nagging him. in other words, he is very much a perfectionist and stalls when things go wrong sometimes.

#COME GET IT AKAASHI BADDIES ! find out the tea #IM FINALLY POSTING THIS IM TERRIBLE LMFAOOO #akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyu headcanons #akaashi haikyuu #akaashi keiji x reader

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ponnearponfarponwhereveryouare · 3 years

Text

negotiations of home

Pairing: TOS!McSpirk

Summary: Spock takes the time to examine his thoughts (and feelings) towards the Enterprise's captain and chief medical officer. He decides the most logical course of action is to address his findings.

Rating: G | Word Count: 1862 | also on ao3

Spock had long since learned not to say thoughts tied to emotion. Such ruminations had to be examined critically and in such a time and location so as to not interfere with his work. Only in this way could he put logic first, by making a habit of it. He was not sure if this was the process other Vulcans applied, but it was the one that worked best for him.

He knew he was successful when he was able to apply this method around members of his family; with positive emotions and negative. Only in absolute private he might tell his mother he loved her, tell his sister he missed her, or tell his brother that they were still, always, family.

It was best not to think about the emotions that came up involving his father. Or the feelings around the fact that his family was two and a half parts human and two and a half parts Vulcan. Of not being a whole.

Those walls had begun to slip, of late. And that was because he was faced with emotions that were not tangled up in his Vulcan upbringing. Feelings that included a sense of being held together, a chance at healing his two halves.

Which brought him to the matter at hand.

"You're you, Spock!" Leonard snapped, though the anger was not directed at Spock himself. The doctor was pacing about Jim's quarters, while Spock sat at the Captain's desk observing him. "You're not broken! All you have to do in this life is be honest with yourself."

Spock raised a brow. "Is this a time for the old anecdote, physician heal thyself?"

Leonard managed to scowl deeper. "Damn it, man, at least I'm trying. Talking about these sorts of things with someone you trust and care about is important."

"Is that not what I am attempting to do?" Spock asked. Before Jim had been called away to deal with a potential issue among the Enterprise's current guests, Spock had gathered both Jim and Leonard together with the purpose of working through a line of thought that had followed him around for the past 30 days.

Leonard deflated a bit, rubbing his hands together in a nervous manner. Spock attempted not to stare, as the emotions that evoked were ones he had not yet begun to speak of.

"Do not worry, Leonard, I will not continue until Jim has returned," Spock said in a tone he hoped would be reassuring.

"How am I supposed to do that, with you calling us by our names?" Leonard protested, now tossing his hands up in the air.

"It is a personal matter, so it would be illogical to use your professional titles."

"And that's why I'm nervous! Last time you had a personal matter that you had to involve me and Jim in, you were dying or your father was dying." Leonard didn't return to pacing, instead, he crossed the room and kneeled beside Spock. His blue eyes were wide and filled with concern.

"My apologies. I did not mean to raise alarm," Spock said, reaching out towards Leonard. He wasn't sure what he'd do, but he needed such dramatics to end. It brought an uncomfortable warmth that was tempting to lean into. To drown in. “Please, stand.” Spock stopped himself before he actually could touch Leonard’s elbows.

Leonard seemed to take a long enough time pondering this request as to border on his usual teasing. He finally stood, pressing a hand against Spock’s knee as he did. He settled then into Jim’s other chair so that they were now directly across from each other. “So you’re not dying.”

“Not that I am aware of. Though as my doctor, I believe you are to give me such status updates.”

This returned Leonard to a... huffier state. “I’d be able to do that if you didn’t lie to me.”

“Vulcan’s do not lie,” Spock reminded him.

“Oh really? Then it seems like I’ll need a copy of whatever definition you’re using for the word.”

Jim returned to catch that last exchange. “Gentlemen. I see I haven’t missed anything.” He was smiling, coming to lean against the partition that divided his quarters.

Spock found himself calmed by Jim’s presence. “The Andorian ambassador is settled?”

“Yes, Scotty was able to change the climate control settings for her quarters to something comfortable,” Jim said, as he looked from Spock to Leonard and back. “Where were we?”

“Spock was telling us something that is a “personal matter",” Leonard provided. “I’ve got him to promise no one is dying.”

“Statistically in the breadth of the universe and even just among life as we know it, at this moment-”

“Shut it!” Leonard’s tone was supposed to be sharp, but it was too rounded by his own laughter.

“Very well,” Spock turned towards Leonard, both eyebrows raised, and remained silent.

“Jim, look what he’s doing now!” Leonard complained, leaning closer towards Spock, as close as he could get with the desk between them.

Jim’s laughter filled the silence, and he crossed the room to sit on the corner of his desk. “Spock, Bones, come now.” His face was in that easy grin of his, the one Spock associated with times when all was well. “Spock, what did you want to talk to us about?”

Yes, the mission at hand. One that he had set for himself because, given the nature of their work and luck, it seemed best to share his thoughts sooner than later. Spock had planned the words he would say carefully, trying to predict what response he might get. He would not call himself nervous, as that emotion tended to be one of the most illogical.

“Yeah Spock, sorry,” Leonard smiled kindly, leaning back again. His foot nudged Spock’s under the table in what must have been encouragement. Leonard rarely apologized for their mutual antagonization of the other, another sign he was taking this seriously.

“It has come to my attention that I hold you both in strong regard.” Spock thought that was as good a place to start as any, even as his practiced words seemed to fall away. He should have written them down... But that would have no doubt brought Leonard’s amusement and possibly ire. “I also know, while it is not the practice on Vulcan, for many cultures it is customary to let those you care about know of your regard towards them.”

Both Leonard and Jim were silent, which was not one of the responses Spock had anticipated. It was Leonard who finally spoke and said, “Are you sure you’re not dying? Because you just admitted to having an emotion. Several, in fact.”

“Indeed. It was our last away mission that brought me to further examine my feelings towards both Jim and yourself.” Spock had been the one, after 27.8 frantic hours, to find and rescue the captain and chief medical officer. Between coordinating the rescue effort, Spock found his thoughts consumed with things he wished to tell them both. “I... care for you both. My existence is greatly improved by your presence in it.”

He hoped that they could understand all he was not able to say. ‘Don’t leave me, I need you, I missed you, I-’

“Spock,” Jim’s voice was soft, and when Spock looked up at him, so was his expression. “I feel the same.” He then looked towards Leonard, and Spock followed his gaze.

Leonard looked between them both, and his blinking grew more rapid. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Damnit, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost either of you. You’ve both managed to pick up my pieces and put them back together. I can’t remember the last time I felt complete.”

Of course, Leonard, who was better with emotions than either Spock or Jim, would put the words to it: that there existed between them something that exceeded a friendship bond. They had become family. Partners. A tension settled then, the question -

“What do we do?” Jim voiced it. “It’s not as if we can stop going on dangerous missions. That’s not the life we signed up for.”

“I know neither of you could be happy sitting by,” Leonard agreed. “You’re explorers to your cores. And someone who asks you to change your very nature isn’t worth keeping.”

Keep. Spock turned the word over in his mind. “It seems that what is in our power to change is the parameters of our relationship.”

Jim let out a breath that sounded like ‘yes.’

“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, that’d be against regulation.” Leonard pointed at Spock. “Would you be okay with that?”

“Affirmative.” Spock had to focus to keep his tone even. This was not one of the outcomes he had let himself ponder. His desire for it would have become overwhelming.

“What about the ol’ needs of the many over the few?” Leonard said, and Spock knew he wasn’t arguing because he was against the possibility now hanging heavy in the room, more tangible than it had ever been before because it had been named. Leonard was making sure Spock was sure; that he was comfortable.

“You are both professionals, whom I trust not to let the personal adversely interfere with the running of the ship.” It was an easier answer than he thought. “I even theorize that such a change in our relationship could improve personal performance.”

“Now that is a theory that I want to test.” Jim moved to stand, so he could face them both fully. His smile was back and wider than Spock could recall seeing it. “I’d like to very much.”

Leonard was smiling now as well. “Why am I surprised that this has been the weirdest way I’ve ever been asked out?”

“Come on Bones, for science,” Jim’s eyes twinkled, and he reached out to catch one of Leonard’s hands. “But more importantly, for... love.”

Spock watched the way their fingers fit together, and almost missed that Jim had spoken the final unspoken word. He looked back towards their expressions, before standing himself and coming closer, to stand between them both.

“Of course I will,” Leonard said. “Spock?”

“Affirmative,” Spock said again, and added, while carefully watching Leonard’s expression. “It should prove fascinating.” Before Leonard could offer a retort to that, Spock held out his index and middle finger to him. A gesture he knew the good doctor had picked up the significance of.

Leonard’s eyes went wide once more, but he didn’t hesitate before reciprocating the gesture. Once he had, Spock felt a wave of affection he could not pinpoint as his own emotion or Leonard’s. Spock then offered the same to Jim, who looked like he had been given a gift to rival his captaincy of the Enterprise.

When Jim’s finger’s met Spock’s, the three of them stood visibly connected in a way Spock knew their lives had already long been. This, then, was proof that he would not lose them. At least, not without making sure they knew what they meant to him.

It spoke of a new beginning, a new adventure, shared between the three of them.

#mcspirk #spock #leonard mccoy #james kirk #jim kirk #bones mccoy #this is very fluffy #it is also a getting together fic #the first star trek fic i have written in YEARS bless a decade old hyperfixation to break writers block #star trek the original series #tos #star trek TOS #a talks #my fic

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whitecatindisguise · 3 years

Text

Taking It Too Far

So I've watched Fan Friction episode and immediately I was struck by how wrong they approached the subject. Hiro was right to be upset, but the producers didn't give him the right reason. This story is an attempt to right the wrongs. That, and there are also other changes to the basic episode plot because 1) I didn't remember everything and didn't really have time nor mood to rewatch it, 2) I thought some things would be better if changed a bit.

Anyway, I hope you like it and enjoy yourselves.

AO3 link here

... and there, inside the lab, was Captain Cutie’s beautiful girlfriend, Karmi. The two locked eyes and-

“Hey, Fred. What are you doing?” Hiro popped out from behind the man and looked at the other’s screen. He squinted his eyes, skimming through the words. “Is that-?”

“A fanfiction about us? Sure is!” Fred cut in enthusiastically, grinning wildly. “And I gotta tell you, man, it’s amazing! The plot, the characters, the action, the characters!”

Hiro rose one eyebrow, clearly not siding with the other’s enthusiasm. His gaze wandered back to the screen and he stopped dead.

“Why am I called Captain Cutie? And why Karmi is my girlfriend? Who wrote this?!” He asked angrily. Him and Karmi? Never in a lifetime!

“I don’t know, but they post as KHeartsQT.” Fred waved his hand dismissively, his focus solely on the story.

Hiro hummed and moved the cursor to the author’s name and clicked on it, recoiling the moment a pop-up window showed a profile picture.

There, on Fred’s computer screen, his greatest nemesis was staring back at him.

***

“I can’t believe it!” Hiro burst into the main lab, stomping past Honey Lemon and almost bumping into confused Wasabi, who barely managed to jump away. Without a word of apologise, the young teen approached his working space and shoved his backpack onto the desk, sitting down heavily on the chair.

“What’s up with him?” Go Go popped a balloon as she stated at the clearly upset boy.

“Nothing. He just doesn’t like Karmi’s fan fiction.” Fred shrugged as he strolled inside and flopped onto his armchair. “Can’t really relate. It’s amazing! And did you see how she named me? Flame Jumper! Not as cool as Fredzilla, obviously, but points for awesomeness.”

“Oh, I read it.” Honey Lemon chimmed in. “It’s really well-written. Although, I don’t know why my name is Tall Girl. I’m not that tall, aren’t I?”

A series of weeeeell’s and ummmm’s echoed in the lab and the ginger-haired woman dropped her head down in response.

“She called me Chop Chop.” Wasabi added. “I can see where it’s coming from, but it makes me sound like some character from the kid’s show, and not a proper superhero.”

“Speed Queen.” Go Go spoke from her side of the lab, tinkering with some kind of miniature scooter. “Sounds cool.”

“All of you have normal nicknames. But she called me Captain Cutie. And made herself my- ugh- girlfriend.” Hiro cringed as he spoke. “Who even gave her a right to write about us? I don’t remember giving my permission, do you?”

“Calm down, Hiro. It’s just a story.” Honey Lemon put a hand on his shoulder but he shook it off.

“Well, maybe I don’t appreciate being put in a story that’s clearly fake and totally unrealistic?!” He snatched his backpack and stomped towards the door. “I’m going to work in my lab. Away from that nonsense.”

With these words, he stormed out, his angry footsteps and muttering audible until he turned the corridor.

“Wow. Talk about negative energy.” Wasabi commented, as they stared at the door.

***

In the coming days, Hiro’s mood only got worse. Everyone on the campus seemed to enjoy Karmi’s story, some even starting to ship Karmiutie, as they began to call the imagined pairing between Karmi and Captain Cutie. Hiro couldn’t even take a step without someone saying something about the story or the ship, or, which happened more often than he would like it, mentioning both.

Karmi seemed to love the attention. Other students called to her on the corridor, expressing their enjoyment of her story and some even daring to ask whether she and Captain Cutie really were a couple. Hiro didn’t stay to hear the girl’s response, stomping away angrily, to the confusion of the students.

With everything going on, he was unfocused and started failing classes he usually had no trouble with. Professor Granville seemed to be both upset and concerned about this change. He couldn’t tell her what bothered him, however, so he made an excuse about not feeling well lately. He wasn’t sure she believed him.

To make things worse, his upset state started to affect his superhero work as well. He kept making mistakes leading to the whole team getting into trouble and only barely managing to catch criminals they encountered. This only led to his mood worsening.

The young teen was walking down the hallway, trying to tune out the conversations revolving around the newest chapter of the fan fiction, when he suddenly collided with someone and they both landed in the floor, stunned by the hit.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” He heard an annoyingly familiar voice and he looked up to see Karmi picking herself up from the floor, snatching her phone from where it slid off during the crash.

“I was. Which you would notice if you wasn’t gaping at your phone, producing those abominations of yours all the time.” Hiro seethed, picking himself up from the floor.

“Excuse you!” Karmi huffed in response. “What’s your problem?!”

“Oh, I don’t know?” Hiro replied, anger seeping into his voice. “Maybe that you write about real people and forcing them into fake relationships to release your crazy fantasies? Or maybe that you give stupid names which don’t fit the characters at all?”

“For your information, everybody loves my story. I even have some faithful fans that comment on every chapter, like Fredelicious24.” Karmi replied defensively. “And since nobody knows what their real names are, I’m allowed to use whatever I want.”

“I’m sure Captain Cutie is thrilled to be called that.” Hiro rebounded, rolling his eyes at the nickname.

“Maybe he is!” the girl shouted back. “What do you know, anyway?”

“Ugh, forget it!” The dark-haired teen shoved his arms apart and stomped away, trying to ignore the whispering from the students who watched the encounter.

It was around lunch time, when his friends found him, sitting alone in the cafeteria, poking his food with an upset expression.

“Hiro, what’s wrong? We heard about your argument with Karmi.” Honey Lemon started, as they all took their seats.

“Yeah, so? Are you also going to tell me what a jerk I am? I heard it at least twenty times by now.” He huffed, impaling one of the fries onto the fork and biting on it angrily.

“We just want to help.” Wasabi replied, eyeing as the teen gathered several more fries and stuffed them all into his mouth, munching aggressively.

“But we can’t, until you tell us what’s going on.” Go Go added.

Just then, several students passed by, the pieces of their conversation about Karmi’s story and the Karmiutie ship reaching their eyes. Hiro grunted and picked up his tray, pushing the chair away.

“I’m going to eat in my lab.” He said and walked away.

“That is highly insanitary!” Wasabi called after him.

Honey Lemon looked thoughtful, as she stared at the retreating back of the young teen, and gazed at the group of students, who had now taken over one of the tables nearby.

“Of course! Why didn’t I notice that before?” He exclaimed triumphantly. The others looked at her questioningly. “Come on, we have to talk to him!” she gathered her stuff and rushed off, others staring in the direction she went.

“So... Do we follow or...?” Wasabi asked. Right then, Fred’s phone buzzed and he gasped.

“The creepy knife-lady escaped from prison!” He exclaimed. They shared a look.

“Guess we’ll talk to Hiro after that.” Go Go commented, as they left the cafeteria.

***

To say the action went well would be a major understatement. Not only did Momakase escape, but she also cut through Go Go’s disks, left Honey Lemon and Fred stuck in the goo, Baymax lost one of his leg thrusters and rocket fist, and Wasabi’s blades needed a serious repair.

Hiro was trying to help, but the conversation with Karmi was still fresh in his mind and he couldn’t properly focus on the fight. It was pathetic, even he had to agree.

He angrily took of his helmet and shoved it towards the wall. It hit the divider with a metallic clang and fell to the floor, leaving a small dent in where it met with the structure.

“Your body language indicated extreme anger.” Baymax spoke from behind. Hiro huffed.

“Oh yeah? How did you figure that one out?” He asked, sitting on his chair with arms crossed.

“You are making a face expression known as frown.” Baymax said. “Your body is tense and you are-“

“I was being sarcastic, Baymax.” Hiro interrupted. Baymax blinked.

“I am not programmed to recognise sarcasm.” The robot replied and Hiro groaned.

“Hiro? You there?” Honey Lemon called out and the whole gang entered his garage, suits off.

“Just peachy.” The young teen answered, starting to take off Baymax’s armour.

“Don’t worry, dude. We’ll get the crazy knife-lady next time.” Fred patted his friend’s shoulder comfortingly. Hiro glared at him and the man slowly backed away.

“We’re worried about you, Hiro.” Honey Lemon spoke again, her eyes matching her words. “Is it about Karmi’s story?”

“What? Noooo.” Hiro waved his hand nonchalantly. Everyone stared at him, unimpressed.

“It’s totally about the story.” Go Go said.

“Definitely.” Wasabi agreed.

Hiro sighed and turned away, hugging his arm.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He mumbled.

“Your body language indicates discomfort.” Baymax spoke.

“Hiro... You are clearly upset about it.” Honey Lemon said. “And I think I know why.”

“Y-you do?” Hiro asked, but backed down really quick. “I-I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, Honey Lemon, why would he be upset with it! The story is epic!” Fred joined in, unaware of Hiro’s frown deepening as the male kept on talking. “The plot is amazing, there are so many cliffhangers and, of course, the cherry on top being Karmiutie, of which, by the way, I am the president of the fanclub and-“

He was interrupted by the slam of the door and he blinked, only now noticing they were left alone in the garage, Hiro nowhere to be seen.

“Way to go, dumbass.” Go Go commented as she popped a balloon.

“What did I do?” Fred blinked. There was a collective slap as everyone else facepalmed.

Honey Lemon put on a determined face and followed the way the teen went. The others followed, saying their greetings to Aunt Cass on their way past, making a beeline towards the back and up to the living area. Hiro was, unsurprisingly, sitting by his desk, tapping furiously at his laptop.

“Hiro?” The ginger-haired woman softly spoke up. The said teen huffed in response.

“I though I made it clear I don’t want to talk about it.” He said angrily.

“She’s not letting this one go, so you might as well stop being stubborn.” Go Go crossed her arms and leaned over the doorframe, clearly making sure his only escape route is blocked.

“Hiro, please.” Honey Lemon kneeled down to find herself at his eye level. “We just want to help.”

“There is nothing any of us can do to help.” The teenager mumbled, looking away. “Besides, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. And you have every right to be upset.” The woman replied softly.

Hiro pointedly looked back at his laptop, attempting to ignore them. The redhead didn’t back out, however.

“We were all so caught up in how good Karmi’s story is that we failed to notice how upsetting it is for you. After all, it’s your hero persona she chose to pair herself with.” Honey Lemon spoke up. The tapping of the keyboard stopped, but the teen didn’t turn around yet. “And, knowing the characters are real, people started to assume the relationship is real, too. And that’s wrong. What Karmi is doing is wrong. You can’t just- what’s the word they use for saying two characters are in a romantic relationship...?”

“Ship.” Helpfully suggested Fred.

“Yes, thanks, Freddie.” Honey Lemon smiled thankfully and turned back to Hiro. “You can’t just ship two real people. It’s wrong. It shouldn’t be acceptable.”

“And yet I seem to be the only one who has problem with that.” The teen mumbled, his back still to his friends.

“I think it’s because the story is about our superhero personas.” Fred interjected and everyone, even Hiro, looked at him in confusion. “I mean, superheroes themselves feel like fictional characters. And, even though everyone knows we are real, it’s still hard to distinguish that if we’re also the characters in a work of fiction, which, by definition, means it’s not real. It creates somewhat a paradox and people just don’t completely realise the fiction part actually refers only to the story itself and not the characters.”

Everyone stared dumbfoundedly at the millionaire, who blinked and starred back.

“What?” He asked.

“We just didn’t expect you to say something so... thoughtful.” Wasabi finally said, the others nodding in agreement.

“Hey, I can act smart too, you know?” Fred argued and then promptly took out an unwrapped candy from his pocket, have it a testing lick, shrugged and put it in his mouth. Everyone shuddered.

“Aaaand the usual Fred is back.” Go Go commented while Wasabi tried to not puke.

“Even if what he said is true, it’s not like I can just go and tell her to stop.” Hiro picked up the conversation to take their minds of Fred and the candy. “What should I even say? Hey, Karmi, you know this story you write? You should stop because I don’t like you shipping yourself with this guy, whose name is definitely not Captain Cutie. Cool? Cool.”

Fred snorted but Go Go quickly elbowed him in the ribs to stop. Hiro groaned and hid his head between his arms. Honey Lemon approached the teen and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe not as Hiro you, but if you explained it as your superhero you?” She suggested, smiling encouragingly.

“I am not going to change into my armour just so I can talk to Karmi.” He replied sternly and sighed. “I just- gonna have to live with it... somehow...”

“If you have a problem with something or someone, you should speak up, genius.” Go Go said.

“Talking is the key to the healthy communication.” Baymax agreed.

“Ugh, fine.” Hiro said. “I’ll talk to her. If I see her on a patrol or something.”

“Hiro-“ Honey Lemon started to say but the robot cut her in.

“I’ve found a disturbing information in the local news. Playing it now.”

The screen on his chest turned on and a reporter appeared, speaking about some message being sent to their station this afternoon. The view changed, and they saw Momakase, grinning at the camera.

“Welcome, Big Hero 6.” She said, looking far too happy about something. “I advise you to come to the Akuma Island. And make haste, unless you want something bad happen to someone’s girlfriend.”

She smirked and stepped aside to show a chair. And on this chair, tied up and sputtering curses, was-

“Karmi!” Everyone, sans Hiro gasped.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Hiro shouted.

***

“Okay, we go in, take Momakase down, free Karmi and get out of here.” Hiro said as Baymax flew them towards the remote island. “Baymax, as soon as you are in range, scan the place for both Karmi and Momakase.”

The robot didn’t reply, but the teenager knew he acknowledged the order and will get to it whenever it’s possible.

“Oh, this gives the perfect opportunity for you to talk to Karmi about you-know-what.” Fred piped up from where he was held by the scruff of his costume in Baymax’s right hand.

“I’d rather focus on the current problem first.” Hiro mumbled back.

“I’m just saying.” The millionaire shrugged, but, luckily, dropped the subject.

Several minutes later, they were creeping the abandoned hallways of old Krei Enterprises facility, Baymax leading them in the direction he sensed Karmi from. Momakase, surprisingly, didn’t turn up on the scan.

“Karmi is inside.” Baymax said, stopping in front of the metal door.

Hiro nodded and looked to Wasabi and Honey Lemon, pointing his head towards the door. The woman tapped the keys on her purse and produced a green-coloured ball. She plastered it to the frame and pulled on one side, the goo expanding to create something like a line. Each one of them, except for Wasabi, caught the goo-line and held strong, while the said man cut through metal around where the goo was stuck. When the cut was finished, they pulled the piece out, managing to not hit it on anything, hence making their entrance silent.

Baymax put the cut-out metal aside and they climbed through the opening one by one. In the middle of the room, under a single spotlight, stood a chair. And on this chair, quite unsurprisingly, Hiro had to say, was Karmi, tied and gagged.

As soon as the teen noticed the heroes, she started to squirm and let out muffled noises, trying desperately to communicate with them. Hiro secretly turned on his voice-modulating device, motioning for the rest of the team to do the same, before approaching the captured girl. It was in situations like this, he was glad he once decided to equip their armours with both face-covering visors and voice modulators. It lowered the chance of being recognised if they had to be around people who knew them personally.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out in no time.” He reassured Karmi and reached for her gag. As soon as it was off, Karmi gasped and screamed.

“It’s a trap!”

At this precise moment, purple-coloured bars rose from the floor and circled around the heroes and Karmi. They all whirled around, shocked by their sudden appearance.

“Like stealing a candy from a kid.” A familiar voice said from the shadows, and Momakase strolled into viee, a smirk on her lips.

“You think you can keep us in here?” Hiro asked and nodded at Wasabi.

Before going in, they decided they were not going to use their names around Karmi, since figuring out new nicknames would take too long, and Hiro was not going to use their fanfiction names, for obvious reasons. So they agreed on silent communication instead, which, so far, worked perfectly well.

Wasabi approached the bars and slashed at them with a cocky grin, but just as fast he jumped back with a pained yelp, when the bars zapped him.

“What in the world?!” He squeaked, rubbing at his arm.

“Did you really think I would use regular cage, knowing of your abilities?” Momakase laughed, strolling slowly along the bars. “You’re not getting out of this one.”

“Oh really?” Honey Lemon challenged and quickly produced a pink-coloured chem-ball from her purse. She let it drop to the floor and quickly side-stepped, as it bounced off the bars and hit the chair, acid eating through the wood.

“I told you it’s not a regular cage.” Momakase smirked and looked extremely pleased with herself. “This one was created by our mutual acquaintance specifically to hold you lot in place.”

“Mutual- what are you talking about?!” Hiro asked angrily.

“I believe he goes by the name Obake.” The woman replied and watched the heroes faces morph into horror as they recognised the name. “Well, anyway, it was nice to chat and all that, but I have to go. As for you...” She produced a small device from her pocket and pushed the button, the lights in the room suddenly turning red and the alarm ringing. “Have fun getting out of here before this whole place blows up.” She waved her hand at them and ran away, leaving them to their doom.

“Ohmigosh-! This place is going to blow up! We’re stuck in a impenetrable cage in a building that’s going to blow up any second now and-“ Wasabi spoke in a high voice, his eyes wide and breath hitching.

“Calm down.” Hiro said. “We’re getting out of here in no time.”

“How?!” Wasabi squeaked. “You saw what happened. My blades don’t work, and neither does the acid!”

“We just need more strength, that’s all.” The teen replied calmly and turned to Baymax. “Initiate Overdrive Mode.” He ordered.

At those words the robot started to change. Pieces of armour hid, others extended. A moment later, a completely unrecognisable Baymax, sans his colours, stood in front of the group.

“That’s... I wrote about it!” Karmi breathed out, astonished. “You read my story?!”

“Can we talk about it after we escape?” Hiro suggested, and Go Go noticed how he shuddered slightly at Karmi’s exclamation. “The sword, please.”

Baymax reached his had to his back and produced a heavy-looking blade. He took a swing and sliced right though the bars, Hiro grinning at the performance.

“Good job. Turn it off before it drains all of your power.” He said and Baymax swiftly came back to his original look. “Now everyone hop on and hold on tight. We don’t know how much time we have and I’d rather not risk running back the way we came from.”

One rocket fist later, they shot out of the roof. And not a moment too soon, as the facility blew up just as they managed to get to the safe distance. Baymax flew them back to the city and they all jumped off to the ground.

“Um... Thank you... For saving me.” Karmi mumbled, blushing as she took a glance at Hiro. The teen was painfully reminded she had a crush on his superhero persona.

“That’s what we do.” He replied, looking away. Honey Lemon came closer and gently nudged his shoulder, an encouraging smile on her lips. He sighed and turned towards Karmi. “Actually, there is something I want to tell you. It’s... it’s about your story.”

“My- YOU READ IT?!” The girl squealed, her eyes almost turning star-shaped.

“Of course, it’s amazing and-“ Fred was painfully elbowed in the stomach by Go Go before he could say anything more.

“I... How do I..?” Hiro scratched the back of his neck as he searched for words. “I read some of it, and you’re really talented but- I don’t really feel comfortable with it, you know?”

“I don’t understand...” Karmi cocked her head to the side in confusion. “Why?”

“It’s because of how you portray us. Portray me.” The teen elaborated. “I’m not- we’re not a pair, Karmi. I know it is a work of fiction and it’s not real, but writing that you are my girlfriend, having all those people read it... It’s not right.”

“Oh...” The girl looked down, suddenly not able to meet his eye. “I didn’t mean to-“

“I know.” He reassured. “I know you really want this to be true, but this is not the way. How would you feel if someone wrote a story about you and put you in a romantic relationship in said story? No matter if you like this person or not, it’s wrong to ship real life people.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Karmi said, still looking away. “I guess I was so caught up with my own fantasy, I didn’t stop to think how would you feel about it.”

“It’s alright.” Honey Lemon spoke up, smiling kindly. “You didn’t know.”

“But I should have thought about it. And I didn’t.” Karmi admitted. “I.. I will delete it once I get home. I’m sorry I upset you.”

“Thank you.” Hiro smiled thankfully at the girl. “And I meant it, you’re an amazing writer. Maybe you could still write about us, just no shipping this time.” He winked and Karmi blushed.

“You... still want me to write about you? Even after...?” She asked, puzzled by the suggestion.

“Between the two of us...” Hiro leaned closer and whispered to the girl’s ear. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else with our story.”

Karmi blushed fiercely, mumbled something that sounded like “thankyouihavetogonowbye” and ran away, her cheeks red. The heroes looked at her retreating figure.

“You didn’t mention the name.” Go Go pointed out as they started on their way back to Fred’s manor to leave their armours there.

“I can live with Captain Cutie.” Hiro shrugged with a smile.

---

That's it. I hope you liked it. Reblog if you did. I live for reblogs.

#big hero 6 the series #hiro hamada #baymax #honey lemon #go go tomago #wasabi no ginger #karmi #momakase #episode rewrite #kitty mom writes

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