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watevermelon · 4 years

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Jealous | Eita Semi x Reader

✧ Summary: You thought you were content with your relationship so far - Semi was your best friend and these past few years were some of the most memorable. But all of that quickly changes with some outside forces. ➳ Tags: Angst with a happy ending; some humor

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Four years ago, it would have been a strange sight to see you, an up-and-rising wing-spiker, sitting on the sideline of the Shiratorizawa volleyball team. Being the female team’s manager was nice, but just as ambiguous as the adjective. You sorely ached to be back as an active member on the court and you seemed to radiate that very thought throughout the schoolyear.

At the end of your first-year you were switched from official wing-spiker to sub-pinch server. That was a huge demotion in your eyes, but a position you would gladly accept now. You knees were deteriorating from overuse and it was only facilitated at the Spring Tournament during your first-year. A bad-land from a spike and you tore your ACL. From that injury, there was no going back. That took you off the regular team for the rest of the year, since your doctor recommended six-months of healing.

Torn ACL’s do not heal and you did not want to undergo surgery, since it would only prolong your time away from the court. That decision was terrible in itself, but you reasoned that your volleyball career would end after high-school. So the long-term implications did not affect your future in sports since you did not envision one.

But your career ended sooner than you thought.

You did not seek the advice of the athletic trainer or even your coach and attempted to do the same work-outs as the rest of the team. And for a good amount of time, they bought your act. It seemed you were a miraculous healer, despite the urgings of both your parents and physicians. Dates set aside for physical therapy were skipped and you opted to make yourself useful to the team.

But you were doing just the opposite.

The women of Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team had their eyes set on nationals and it seemed that you were on the right track. The team earned their spot in the finals of the Interhigh Tournament, garnering attention against Niiyama High. You were set to serve, aiming directly for the serious face of Amanai Kanoka. Mid-stride, something did not feel right and you landed, not on your feet, but on your front-side.

You looked up from your prone form on the ground to see the horrified faces of your teammates and opponents. The usually loud section of Shiratorizawa’s student body was stunned silent and everyone’s eyes were fixated on your figure. First aid was able to hoist your motionless body onto a stretcher and time seemed to momentarily stop. You could still distinctly recall the perturbed faces of your friends and family. In that very instant, you felt your heart crack and silently whispered goodbye to your beloved sport.

Your torn ACL developed into a long-lasting chronic deficiency and you were slowly losing control in knee movement.

Pity.

That was the only word to describe the certain expression other people gave you after the fact. Volleyball held a large amount of prominence on campus and the fact that nearly everyone saw your fall – it was humiliating. You were taken completely off the team and instead ushered into surgery and rehabilitation for your knee.

Many of your teammates attempted to show compassion and understanding for your situation, but they would never truly understand. You had accepted, deep in your heart, that even if you had undergone surgery early your knee would continually depreciate. It was only a matter of time.

The coach could understand your reasoning, but cursed your insolence. It hurt her that you desperately wanted to help the team, to the point of sacrificing your future. If she had known, she would have taken you off the starting-line in an instant. But there was no second chance, no benefit in asking what if’s.

The previous manager of the women’s team was leaving with graduation and you inherited her spot. On more than one occasion, you wondered if staying on as manager would really help you emotionally. It was your own personal hell, watching your previous teammates engage in volleyball and never getting the chance to join.

Graduation liberated many of your friends and majority of the people who observed your deterioration first-hand were gone. New volleyball teams were forming and you missed most of their names. Without the use of it on the court, it was harder to connect and really converse with the fresh first-years. You knew the names of the promising few – Goshiki Tsutomu was a hard one to miss. There were also two exemplary female wing-spikers, but Shiratorizawa’s team ran both deep and wide.

With all this distance, you would often miss much of the drama from those outside your year. Many of the other volleyball players made an effort not to bar you and updated you daily on news. Tendou was the number one instigator and you would often hear a warped version of the gossip from him first.

None of the male players were in the same class, ironically. There was one in each class and you shared yours with Eita Semi for the past three years. You were the closest to the mom of the group and he would usually clarify new gossip to you.

The groupchat shared amongst both the men’s and women’s volleyball team usually went ignored in your pocket. Once in a while, you would contribute a dank meme or comment. But for now, you tended to silently witness the drama unfold. Amongst the newly minted third-years was a groupchat just for you guys, both the girls and boys teams, which was the one you and Tendou seemed to haunt.

As such, you were texting away in the middle of class. You sat with Semi, who was diligently writing notes and following along with the teacher. Neither had yet to see you, but no matter who it was, they would pluck the phone right out of your hands.

GC: We’re the captains now. <(￣︶￣)>

12:43 From:s u f f e r i n g (。□°） I’m just saying, we can fight him.

12:43 From: Ushiwaka-sama I would prefer to leave the setter intact

12:43 From: Guess Monster（▼へ▼メ） Are we ignoring the problem of Goshiki????

12:43 From: Captain-Sama! He’s a wing-spiker not a middle-blocker. You don’t have to worry about your spot

12:43 From: Guess Monster（▼へ▼メ） ExCuSe youuuuuuuuuuu

12:44 From: Guess Monster（▼へ▼メ) I wouldn’t be afraid even if he was

It was severely clear to all volleyball members that your spot as a regular was never safe (unless of course your name started with a U and ended with -shiwaka.)

The coaches of either team were relentless in their words and would drop a team member if they showed enough weakness. And you would not be surprised even in the slightest if the essential vice-captain of the men’s team was benched for the newfound first-year. The anomaly of Goshiki Tsutomu could be found in the fact that he seemed to be the complete foil of his older teammates. Despite this, he showed the most promise and you almost wanted to bet money that he would be a regular by the Spring High Tournament.

12:44 From: Ushiwaka-sama Your numerable amount of question marks show your lie.

12:44 From: Guess Monster（▼へ▼メ） Why don’t you shut the fuck up

12:44 From: Ushiwaka-sama But I didn’t say anything

12:45 From: Captain-Sama! LMAO but seriously Soekawa has nothing to worry about

12:45 From: s u f f e r i n g (。□°） Even if he does I think we can take the coconut-head.

12:45 From: Guess Monster（▼へ▼メ） O mi god good one (f/n) I’m about to set his nickname as that

12:46 From: Okaasan/Eita Why don’t you take your own advice and stfu salami

12:46 From: Captain-Sama S C R E A M I N G

Okaasan/Eita has changed “Guess Monster (▼へ▼メ)” ‘s nickname to, “the most tender Salami”.

12:46 From: s u f f e r i n g (。□° ) I can’t breathe

12:47 From: Ushiwaka-sama Lol

True to your word, you were laughing with almost no control while Semi was trying not to have his smile break his stern façade. You covered your mouth to stifle the giggles and the fact that the literal volleyball idiot wrote “Lol” you had no doubt he was laughing as well a few classrooms over.

Those in your immediate vicinity subtly turned to look at you and you had to pretend to bend-down to pick up a pencil to hide your laughter. You thanked Semi for the umpteenth time for grabbing these seats in the back that were far from the teacher’s reproach.

Once you were settled, Semi commented, “The aim of my remark was to calm you all down.”

It was hard to focus in class usually, but after a morning like that you were done. English was your forte and you had no problems with the subject, even in an advanced class focused on the western world’s literature. The Great Gatsby was your shit.

13:34 From: Captain-Sama I have detention now Eita. I hope youre happy

13:34 From: Okaasan/Eita What did I do????

13:34 From: Captain-Sama I literally started screaming at the name

13:34 the most tender Salami At least someone else is suffering too

13:34 the most tender Salami My ass is getting blasted on the shared gc help

13:35 From: s u f f e r i n g (。□° ) Hey remember that time you locked me in the men’s locker room

13:35 From: s u f f e r i n g (。□° ) Karma beyotch

13:35 From: the most tender Salami LMAo thanks for that reminder ugh that was the funniest day I almost feel better

You frowned at your phone and Semi noticed your reaction, “That’s your fault. You brought it up.”

The two of you were done with class for the rest of the day and were casually lounging around his dorm room. His roommate, Reon Ōhira, was in class 4 and had a different schedule from the two of you.

You were laid-out across his bed, backpack carelessly thrown on the floor against his desk. Semi was previously occupied with whatever he does on his laptop, but now he was catching-up with the groupchat. This was incredibly normal and it was almost second-nature for you to lounge in his room. Your roommate, the captain of the women’s team, often noted this with certain intentions.

It was no secret that you and Semi were something.

You flirted nonchalantly and he had an overall friendly personality — it seemed entirely natural. Your relationship had blurred lines and no clear mutual understanding. The two of you could hold hands and he could get away with the occasional kiss on your cheek. And if anyone asked if you were in a relationship, you would say no. Semi would do the same.

There was one occasion during your second-year that pushed Semi’s buttons to the point where he made your relationship known. You could count the amount of female third-years on your hand and still have fingers to spare. This, in Tendou’s eyes, left barely any possible suitors that he would seriously be interested in. And of all people, the eyes of the guess monster settled on you.

Tendou was a somewhat of a Kuudere, in your words. He was not cold, but incredibly blunt and cared on the inside. He had the type of attitude that would not seem to care if their crush noticed them. Instead, he took it a step further, to compliment said crush to other people and claim not to like them. And because he was so damn loud and incredibly obvious, the other male volleyball players seemed to notice and their gazes would casually linger on you.

You would dismiss their sudden interest as only aesthetic-deep and not take any other crushes seriously, especially Tendou. His crush bounced from girl to girl and this was a well-known fact, simply because he could admire a good looking person and not get emotionally attached. However, this was easier when the girl was in his class and not as immediate as on the volleyball team.

Tendou would highlight the specific beauty of your smile or hair casually and the other third-years would calmly agree. Semi could see it all. He was in a private groupchat with those boys and you were the topic of their conversation more than once. He would see the friendly pat on the head from Reon as he complimented your cross-spike. Or how you would converse with Ushijima and his eyes would loiter even after you walked away. Or how you would smile brightly at Yunohama’s jokes.

Tendou and Ushijima’s shared dorm was secretly party central, the later surprisingly okay with socializing on a daily basis. But you normally hung-out with Semi, in his room. And recently you had been getting more and more invitations to their room. He was hella annoyed and would often drag you right after class to chill with him instead.

This did not change the fact that Tendou was aggressive and this led to the day of Semi’s snapping. Tendou was waiting outside of your classroom and once he spotted you, he stepped right between you and Semi to sling a lazy arm across your shoulders.

“Finally we are graced with Friday. No homework to worry about for tomorrow and even better, it’s a rest day for volleyball!” Tendou was narrating the day as the three of you walked, Semi pushed all the way to the side. “Shall we let go of our inhibitions to celebrate this rare occasion?”

You lightly attempted to push off his hold on you, but he did not budge. “Sorry Tendou, not exactly in the mood to go off campus tonight.”

“That’s perfectly alright with me,” He deflected the rejection, “Waka is leaving tomorrow morning so we can chill in the dorm.” Certain ideas were undoubtedly forming in the minds of two growing teenage boys and Semi did not hide his disapproval. Instead, he sighed loudly and had the urge to grab you right out of Tendou’s grasp.

“What do you plan on doing with just me tonight, Tendou?” You teased.

He only laughed and ignored your question, “So how about it?"

“I prefer to get my homework done before the weekend, so that’s what I’ll be preoccupied with tonight.” You answered and Semi smirked at your response.

He bristled at your retort and kept pushing, “Well. I know you like that cheesecake place downtown—”

“Can’t you take a hint, Tendou?” Semi asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, but once I lay my eyes on a beautiful girl there’s no way I’ll let her go.” Tendou affirmed and tightened his hold on your shoulders.

You blushed at his confidence, “Ha. Well, determination is a dangerous thing.” Semi noted your flushed appearance and the fact that you had not pulled away from his hold.

No way, not on his watch.

Your flustered looks and affectionate embraces were meant for him and him alone.

Was Tendou’s unwavering resolve really getting to you? The red-head would constantly shower you with compliments and it was only a matter of time that it would infiltrate your brain. Meanwhile, he would offer you vague responses and a sparse amount of sentiments.

With his mind made-up, Semi grabbed you right out of Tendou’s filthy arms and into his own. “Sorry. But she’ll be busy with me.” You were nestled underneath his neck and his arm was wrapped lightly around your waist.

The message he was sending was clear and if it was not, Semi sure as hell would be ready to provide more.

Instead of being heart-broken or defensive, Tendou immediately turned the situation around, “Busy doing what?” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“Staying the hell away from you.” Semi sassily replied and attempted to walk away with you in his grasp.

Tendou took the message in stride and went further to ship the two of you together for the rest of the schoolyear. The others must have received the message and they laid off from their previous flirting. Well, most of them. The only person unaffected by Semi’s wrath was the great volleyball idiot himself. But it was generally understood that he never really knew the implications of his actions.

Since then, there was no real progression in your public and private relationship with Semi. You hit every milestone with stride: prolonged hugs, kisses on the cheek, and even a sleepover when your roommate was away with her boyfriend. You were happy with how things were now and you feared if you talked about it, it would end. With no real reason to address the subject, the two of you continued with your relationship. He was there when you were sad and you surely did the same for him.

The second-year of high-school was your turning point. Your first-year friendship could be described as average, simply two members of the same game. Classmates and admirers of volleyball, you were cordial for ordinary reasons. After your injury, it was hard to personally connect with anyone.

But Semi could do what the others could not. Your second-year came with the introduction of Kenjirō Shirabu. He was a salty little douche and before the Spring High Tournament he was the official setter for the men’s volleyball team. The teammates that Semi had fostered and grown with since middle school were suddenly dragged away from him. And there was nothing he could do. His best was suddenly not good enough and he fell short to a first-year.

You connected on a level that the others could not understand. Being cut from a team was like being abandoned, but it was no one’s fault but your own. And that fact hurt more than anything. Try as you might, there was nothing either of you could really do to regain your prominence.

You found comfort in one another and it was highly noted by the other team members.

“What’s with the face?” Semi asked, noting your saddened facial expressions.

You paused and then sat-up, “We’re graduating this year.”

“Just because we’re leaving this school, doesn’t mean we’ll stop being friends.” Semi comforted. Friends… That word would continue to haunt you. You were friends, incredibly close with few secrets between the two of you. Your relationship was once in a lifetime and soon there would be more than emotional barriers separating you two.

It was not until the autumn formal that you recognized first-hand the complications of desire.

Someone asked Semi to the formal. And it had not been you. But he still said yes.

You heard this secondhand from Reon, a week after the girl had initially asked. Did he hesitate? Did he even think of you? Did he… have feelings for the girl?

She was someone unrecognizable from Ushijima’s class and you had spotted her after having lunch with just the ace. Social Media was a big thing and of course Shiratorizawa Academy had a team-spirit page that highlighted all sorts of shit. And of course, there were the posts about who was going with who to the formal. ((promposals cough))

You were unsure if you had ever seen her before. But after noticing her, you seemed to see her everywhere. She was beautiful in every way you were not – incredibly feminine and keeping up with her appearance. Flowing blonde hair that went past her elbows and she seemed to always sport a dress. Semi was not distant in any way and it seemed like he was never going to bring it up with you unless you took the initiative.

You asked once or twice about the girl and he waved off that she was very pretty and very determined. She seemed to exceedingly fancy him and would not take no for an answer. And he had no real reason to say no. No real reason. Your heart ached at his simple words. If you were no “real reason,” then you sure were not going to continue this way.

There was a month until the formal and that meant an entire month with having this loom over your head. Semi never indicated he wanted more than friendship and it seemed that was not enough for him. So you pulled away. This was hard since you sat together, but it was definitely different than usual.

You would brush off his invitations to hang-out, which was increasingly hard since you literally spent every waking day together. It hurt you, but it was a good wake-up call. If he did not think more of you, then it was about time you lessened this heavy dependence you had on him. It was an eventual problem that he would find a significant other, but now it was finally before you. You were no masochist and distanced yourself from the constant sorrow. On one occasion, you replied, “Why don’t you hang-out with your date instead?” It was petty and low, but true. You were being replaced. Why would he hang-out with you if he’s got another female on his line?

You addressed this with Reon, but he defended Semi saying that the two were only friends. Semi agreed on a whim, with no real intention of dating the girl or progressing as far as he had with you. But you denied this and stopped talking about it with the two altogether.

You were gleaning out the window, ignoring your lunch and sitting with the guess monster and his ace. “Stop frowning, (F/N)-chan. If it bothers you that much just talk to him.”

“Why should I even bother? He already made up his mind.” You pushed your already minute lunch away.

“Wow, giving up already?” Tendou mocked.

“It’s been three years. If he wanted to do something he would have.”

“You’re wrong, (F/N)-chan.” Salami countered, “Semi has already done something. He told me off, that’s for sure.”

“That was so long ago.”

“What have you done?” Ushijima interjected.

“I’ve never accepted any other man’s affection - not dates, chocolates, late-night talks.” You outwardly groaned and nearly slammed your head on the desk, “I’m about to graduate high-school and I’ve never been kissed.”

Even Tendou laughed at this fact, “Wow, (F/N)! I’d be willing to volunteer.”

You lifted your head to glare at him, “That is unnecessary.” Ushijima stated. “You have proven a great loyalty, it seems.”

“Great.” You mocked, voice dripping with sarcasm, “And this worked out so well for me.”

“It is a rare quality, one that I surely admire you for having.” You sat-up completely, back straight from surprise and eyes glued to the auburn-haired ace that continued eating like his words meant nothing. Even Tendou paused from his causal demeanor to narrow his eyes at Ushijima.

A grin reappeared on his face, one that surely spelt trouble, and he proposed, “Why don’t you two go to the formal together?”

You both paused and shared momentary eye-contact. His eyes appeared mostly impassive, but you had spent enough time with him to notice his questioning gaze. His left eyebrow was slightly upturned and you tilted your head in question.

“I cannot see an immediate reason not to.”

“Me neither."

“Then it’s settled!” Tendou got up to stand by the middle of the table, flippantly placing his hands on both of your shoulders, “Let’s send a post to the Shiratorizawa page so it’s official. Ah so cute, Waka and (F/N) at the dance together!”

Ushijima commented that was extremely superfluous, why should anyone care/know? You reasoned the same way, but Tendou claimed that it was not official until it was on the social media page. You both shrugged and prepared to pose for a picture over lunch.

“No, no. This looks totally lame.” He ended up dragging the both of you outside, in the middle of the quad during common hour. Tons of students were walking by and watched as Tendou modeled the two of you.

He settled on putting Ushijima’s hand on your waist and angled your front facing the ace. Your head was turned back towards the camera and you had a hand on his chest. This position was entirely intimate and even the dense Ushijima commented this, but Tendou waved it off. You wondered what crazy things Tendou could get his roommate to do.

Tendou was having a blast, taking multiple pictures from different angles on his phone. You wondered: how good could it possibly look? You were sporting your Shiratorizawa uniform and Ushijima was in his usual track-suit. You could hear the whispering and it seemed that posting the picture would be redundant, almost everyone saw the two of you posing like this!

The three of you returned back to your lunch table and upon sitting down, you received a brand new notification.

[Instabook] Slide to unlock and see new tagged post

Looks like the two most elusive volleyball bachelor/ette’s have snagged each other! Be sure to check-out this cute couple at the fall formal! Tagged: Ushijima Wakatoshi and (F/N)(L/N)

Attached: 1.jpg, 2.jpg, 3.jpg, 4.jpg

“Was it really necessary to send in all those pictures, Tendou?” You asked.

“They tell us to send multiple and they’ll pick the best one! Whoever the account owner is, they are the ones who decided on showing all of those!”

“But four?”

“I sent in ten. And four is the max they can post, so they must really like you guys.” Tendou teased. Almost instantly, you were getting more and more notifications.

People you had never met before were liking the post and it was embarrassing at how much attention this was garnering! You weren’t even dating! Your phone was constantly vibrating from Instabook and you muted the app entirely – you’d return to it later at the end of the day. Sadly, the volleyball team was quick to react too.

GC: Caw Caw SHIRATORIZAWA ୧༼✿ ͡◕ д ◕͡ ༽୨

14:57 From: Captain-Sama! um wtf is this Attached: THEpost.jpg, receipts.jpg, wtf.jpg

14:57 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` ) Not the otp but I still ship it

14:57 From: Coconut-head Senpai’s gf is so cute (๑꒪▿꒪)*

14:57 From: the most tender Salami You can thank me

14:57 From: Captain-Sama! y tf would I do that

14:57 From: the most tender Salami I got the ship sailing

14:57 From: the most tender Salami And got usiwaka to ask (f/n)-chan

14:58 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ And u stil cant get urself a date??

14:58 From: the most tender Salami I’m going to ignore that and show off this CUTE COUPLE Attached: lunchdate.jpg, imthechaperone.jpg

Tendou was showcasing photos he literally took then and there, of you and Ushijima conversing over lunch. It could be viewed entirely as innocent, but after the previous posts it seemed to imply something. Tendou noticed that Semi had seen the chat already, but had yet to respond.

14:58 From: Captain-sama! Are they dating???????????????

14:59 From: the most tender Salami Nah, but theyre too busy to respond to the chat ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

14:59 From: Kawanishi ✩꒳✩ OH SHIT

14:59 From: Not-my-libero-Yamagata ( ´ ▽ ` ) WE’RE NOT OLD ENOUGH ( ಠ - ಠ )

15:00 From: Captain-Sama! I WANT PICS

Reon and Semi were discussing the subject in the comfort of their private dorm. It was clear to the tan boy that you were bothered by Semi agreeing to go to the formal and not even telling you! It was only now that Semi was understanding this and he looked to his roommate for guidance.

“I already told that girl I’ll go with her…” Semi was attempting to sort his thoughts, “But I don’t want to hurt (F/N).”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Reon interjected, “You already did that.”

Semi burrowed his head into his hands, “Does (F/N) think I’m replacing her? She means so much to me, that’s absurd.”

“You didn’t exactly tell her that you were going to formal with someone else.” Reon explained, “How would you feel if your closest friend was going to an intimate dance with a date that you never met before?” Semi massaged his temples further, feeling the oncoming migraine that usually came associated with a certain second-year setter.

His thoughts were unclear and the constant vibrating of both their phones were not helping his mental state, “What is happening?”

Reon browsed through his phone first and frowned, “Well. It seems a certain someone’s affection never fully disappeared from last year.”

Semi narrowed his eyes and picked up his phone to see your face splayed across the screen. A smile graced your face and it was clear who was the cause behind it. Ushijima’s smile was rare and came at random moments, but it was encased in memory through the photograph. He almost screamed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Semi threw his phone on the bed before collapsing face first into it.

“On the chat, it seems Tendou was the one who pushed them together.” Semi punched his pillow at the mention of the brash Salami. “And they’re not dating, just going to the dance together.”

Semi let out a string of incomprehensible words into his comforter. “This is Ushiwaka. He’s not like Tendou, with the endless list of crushes. He’s genuine all the time and complimented (F/N) without hesitation. As in, I’m fucked.”

Reon was inwardly rolling his eyes, it was only when Semi was entirely comfortable with the other person or very enraged that he let loose his short-tempered side. And it seemed Semi was both, right at this moment.

You broke off from Tendou and Ushijima to retreat back to your dorm room. Ushijima agreed to have dinner with you later, in hopes of coordinating your outfit for the formal. It seemed the post of the two of you was the most popular on the entire page and you would have to dress to impress the audience.

Upon entering, you were ambushed with questions from both your roommate, Reon, and strangely Shirabu.

“(F/N), what the fuck.”

“You better not hinder his abilities as ace!”

“Did you just come from lunch with him?”

You blinked at the assault and then sat-down. “One, we’re not dating. So I will not be a distraction for him, I assure you. This is mostly Tendou’s doing anyway.”

Shirabu nodded at the explanation and then walked towards the door, stopping to put a hand on your shoulder first, “Good enough. Have a good time then.” And with that he walked out of the room. Shirabu was a special type of kid, everyone knew. At least he had the best intentions at heart?

“Seriously?” Your roommate and captain of the female volleyball team asked, showing off her impeccable vernacular.

“Come on.” You threw your bag to the side of your bed.

“How did this even start?” She sat down on her own bed as Reon rested on your desk chair.

“I was talking about y’know, what’s been bothering me recently. And Tendou suggested that there was no real reason to stop Ushijima and me from going to the formal together.”

“And what? Ushijima just asked on the spot after that?” She asked.

“Yeah, pretty much. And then Tendou made a big spectacle of it by making us pose for a picture.”

“A top three ace in the entire country and 190 centimeter of pure man, and you are the one to have tamed him. Holy shit, good job.” She commended.

Your eyes nearly fell out of your head and Reon could not stop his sudden coughing fit. “We are not dating.”

“Just the pure fact that Ushijima had no reason to not ask you, wow.” She commented. “If it was any other girl he would have scroll of reasons that would hit the floor with a speech to go along with it.”

“There’s no way.” You countered.

“Do you honestly think there are no implications?” Reon asked.

“Yeah, if anything he’s doing it as a favor.” You answered offhandedly, realizing your mistake instantly. It was natural to speak candidly to the two. However, it was clear that Reon would die defending Semi and thus you stopped speaking to him previously about the situation.

“A favor?” He asked, just as you had thought.

You hesitated. It was not in you to lie and it was only a matter of time before Tendou gave further details to the rest about the situation. “We were talking about Eita-kun before he asked me.”

“What about Eita?”

“Just how really messed up this situation is.” You decided on being vague.

Reon did not take the hint and continued to push the subject, “Why is it messed up?”

“You know why,” You gave him that look, like really bro, “I guess that’s what I get for assuming.

“What did you assume?” Your roommate asked, this time.

“I stayed loyal to him and I never gave into anyone. Never accepted chocolates or dates or anything. And I just assumed he would do the same?” Reon sat back in the chair, obviously mauling over your words.

“Well that is mostly true, with the exception of one person.” Both you and your roommate shot him questioning looks, unsure where he heard that from. “Isn’t it true you did extra practice with Wakatoshi for a whole month?”

“I don’t think volleyball counts as accepting affection.” Your roommate countered.

“Do you see who we are talking about?” Reon explained, “Our beloved ace lives and breathes volleyball. And he shared a good amount of that time alone with you. If you wanted to practice so badly, why not with Eita? He was the official setter.”

“Because Ushijima asked me personally.”

“And you accepted. You voluntarily spent an extended amount of time with him, engaging in the sport he loves and you didn’t think anything of it?”

“Of course not! I would have accepted practice from anyone else on the team.”

“I think that’s where you do not understand.” Reon paused, attempting to fully devlop his next few words before conveying them to the two of you. “You’re treating this extremely casually. But these are all boys who had no problems with showering you with compliments last year. Take a step back and really think about the situation.”

Your roommate interjected, “Okay, hold on. So Tendou and the boys tried to carelessly compliment (F/N) and after that she accepted one of those boy’s request to spend time with him.”

“We are not talking about some irresponsible boy. This is Wakatoshi, the most serious and straight-forward idiot to exist.”

You were sat on the bed, hands currently encasing your head in obvious stress and over-thinking. “But that’s not how I saw it! Ohmyfuckinggod.”

“I suggest you amend the situation, (F/N)-chan.” Reon advised, “I left him alone in the dorm, please talk to him.”

But you were already out the door. You had a growing list of reasons why you were an idiot and this misunderstanding definitely topped the list. You had to tell Eita that Ushijima would never hold a place in your heart like he did. It was impossible for Ushijima to have feelings for you, that was definite. Ever since your unofficial parting from Eita, you had spending more time with the ace. However, you would often be expressing your sadness about Semi and he knew entirely about your feelings. Wakatoshi was a bro.

And it was important that Semi knew that.

You tapped on his door, rapid and loud enough that you were sure other people in the hall heard it. There was a light shuffling inside and it seemed like there were multiple voices.

Semi opened a slight crack of the door with narrowed eyes, but when they landed on you they widened with obvious shock. “(F/N), what are you doing here?”

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was talking with Reon and I think I need to say something before I regret it. Can I come inside?” Semi scratched the back of his ear in thought and did not move to allow you in.

“Who’s at the door, Eita-kun?” And right before your eyes was the blonde date he agreed to go to the formal with.

Semi could literally see and feel your heartbreak. When your eyes traveled from her smiley disposition to him, he saw the narrowing – the pure anguish written across your face. It was something he never wanted to see ever again. The poor boy would do anything for you and it physically pained him that the cause of your sorrow was from him.

You swallowed your pride and yelled out, “I’m sorry for interrupting!” You ran down the hall, not caring that the door to Tendou and Waka’s room opened as you sprinted past it.

“Did you hurt her?” Wakatoshi asked a stunned Semi, who was standing in the middle of the hallway with a hand outstretched.

“I hate my fucking life.” Semi slapped a palm to his forehead. He had something to do first before he addressed you. He slammed the door behind him quickly, so neither volleyball players could throw questions at him.

“What was that?” The blonde girl asked, still standing and silently waiting for Semi. He had called her here a few minutes ago, saying that they needed to talk.

“We can’t go to the formal together.” Semi stated. “I’m really sorry if I’ve led you on.”

“Is it because of (L/N)-san?” She asked, smile still evident on her face. He nodded lightly. “You two honestly suit each other. Even I was surprised when you said yes to me.” She moved to the floor to grab her bag and leave, “May I ask, why did you agree to go with me?”

“I don’t know.” He sat on his bed and wanted to scream, it was rare for him to be so confused.

“You better get your shit together, Eita-kun.” She gave a small laugh and then exited the dorm.

There was no way that you were returning back to your dorm. You knew that your roommate and Reon would still be there and expecting details. You should have known! If you kept distancing yourself from Semi, it was only a matter of time that he found comfort in another person’s arms. You deserved this, really. You had been so petty and jealous without actually affirming your feelings to him.

Text Messages:

17:32 From: the most tender Salami What was THAT?!

17:29 From: Ushiwaka-sama! Where are you???

The only place that you knew would be free of any volleyball idiots would be the on-campus café outside of the nursing building. It only accepted money and not swipes from the meal-plan, which in itself was a turn-off from most of the volleyball teams. It was on the complete opposite side of campus from the gyms and you were sure that none of the people you knew were enrolled in medical-specific programs. Of course, everyone except from her.

It had been a full hour of dodged texts and missed calls when she neared your table. “Hi. You probably don’t want to talk to me of all people.” The blonde started, but still made a motion as if asking if she could take the empty seat across from you.

“You can have the seat. I was on my way out.” You grabbed your various things from the table, readying to leave.

“Wait, please just listen.” You paused in your movements and nodded, “Semi called me to his room to call off our date for the formal. He never meant to upset you and I’m sure he’s looking for you as we speak. Please give him a chance.”

“You don’t have to do this.” You interjected, “He said yes to you and I don’t want to take him away from you just because I am the one who is upset. You asked and he accepted your affection, something we never did. We’ve only ever been friends. With Semi, all I want for him is to be happy. He deserves all the happiness in the world, even if it’s not with me.”

Your eyes were wandering around during your speech, jumping from behind the blonde and your surroundings but never focusing on her. When you gazed back at her, she was holding a hand to her nose and lightly sniffling.

“You two deserve to be together!” She shouted, “Oh god I am so sorry for getting between you guys.”

Behind you, Semi was scouring the café in an attempt to find you. He spent too damn long thinking and not acting, it was finally time that he made his feelings known. Grabbing his phone on the way out, he called Tendou and Waka and neither boys knew where you were. A quick text to Reon and your roommate and they both asked why you were not with him. Semi sighed and continued in his search. Finally, he received a text from the blonde that she found you moping around here.

Semi could spot you in a crowd of rowdy volleyball players within seconds. He found your luscious locks of hair across the very person he left. Damn, he really owed that girl. She took rejection like pro and even took it a step further to keep you here until he arrived.

“Please, you have nothing to be sorry about.” You responded.

A pair of large hands slid to lightly weigh on your shoulders, “Can I interrupt?”

“Please do.” The blonde replied and quickly gathered her belongings. “I wish you two the best.”

Semi quickly took her seat and reached across the table to hold your hands in his. “You said you wanted to clear misunderstandings before you ran off. I need to do the same.”

His grip tightened and you squeezed back. “Let me start, since I owe you an explanation.” He nodded. “Eita-kun, you’re the only man I’ve ever had eyes for. Even if I spend time with Waka-kun or Salami, they’ve never meant more to me than just friends. You’ve always held the most special and largest piece of my heart.”

Semi smiled and moved his chair closer to yours. “I want you to know that I feel the same way. It’s rather small of me, but after you spent so much time with Wakatoshi… I wanted to test if you felt the same heartbreak I felt when I saw the two of you together. I realize now how spiteful that was of me, to the very girl I had feelings for.”

You placed a gentle hand on the side of his face, rubbing rather affectionately and he seemed to lean into it. “Looks like we’re a pair of idiots.”

“But now you’re my exclusive idiot.” He staked his claim and you wondered how his seat suddenly was right next to yours!

Semi nuzzled your nose with his own, smile enrapturing you for the oomph time. You closed your eyes and leaned forward, bumping noses until you felt the gentle touch of his lips against yours. You were entirely receptive, even moving further into his body to get the full scape of his silky lips. The tips of his hair were tickling the sides of your face. And you would kill to feel this sensation for the rest of your life.

His hands lost themselves in your hair, preoccupied with keeping a steady hold on the back of your head. You returned the embrace and he took that as an invitation to glide his lips against yours, silently asking for entrance. You moaned in answer and opened up slowly, but he took it entirely in stride – not skipping a beat.

It was only when a flash went off that the two of you broke apart, gasping for air.

“Holy shit!” Tendou yelled, Wakatoshi clapping not too far behind him. You flushed with embarrassment. God you moaned in public! “This one is for the page.”

You were about to interject when Semi stated, “Finally. Maybe now you bastards will get the message.”

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Hot momma! Finally, it seems as though the couple everyone shipped together are finally official~ Hopefully we don’t have to mark this page as 18+ Tagged: Eita Semi and (F/N)(L/N) Attached: 1.jpg, 2.jpg / 3.gif

Semi led you back to his empty dorm, your roommate and Reon were bro’s and willingly offered to have a sleepover to give you two alone time. You were currently encased between his arms, legs tangled and speaking in low voices. He had you nestled beneath his chin, but most of your weight laid across his chest. Semi did not want this moment to end. He waited three years for this, it was a moment of love in the making. You laughed lightly in his arms, not a care in the world keeping you from him. You were both on cloud nine, basking in each other's presence. You never took Semi as a closet cuddle-whore, but you were not complaining. His arms encased you perfectly and you could not hold back from placing butterfly kisses across his chest. You loved him, it was only a matter of time that you found out.

—xXxXxXxXxXx—

➳ A/N: This fic may seem familiar because it’s being brought up over from our earlier Deviantart account! <3

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

Note

General #7

Hiiii! Okay, well I bet you thought I forgot about this! Or, more than likely, you forgot you even requested this back in Decemeber. But never fear, my child. I remembered and have been thinking of this fic and what to write for months.

And so I’m so sorry, I’m a total perfectionist and I started and discared like 3 ideas for this before deciding on this oneshot sooo if this sucks, I’m at least comforted by the fact that I accomplished something in writing this itself? That sentence made zero sense but... I’m tired 🤷🏼‍♀️😅.

Prompt : General # 7 :

“Is that blood?”

“Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-”

“You are literally bleeding.”

Anyways, thank you for the prompt and here we go!

Whispers Of Light

I don't know exactly how I got roped into this. How exactly Delly Cartwright, Peeta's best friend—and alright, my friend now too—managed to convince me to help her and Leevy and about three dozen other members of the community with sorting boxes.

Sorting boxes. Organizing contents. Decorating with "found treasures".

The type of activities Prim loved doing with our mother. The type of activities I refused to do after my father died, to punish my mother for her depression.

The type of activities I now kick myself for walking out on, that I'll never be able to take back. I'll never be able to get those moments back with my sister. I'll never know what those hours between her and our mother entailed, because I chose to exclude myself, just so I could hold onto my petty anger for something that was out of all our control.

Maybe that's why I agreed to help Delly and the others with sorting through boxes upon boxes of debrief, of the items that scarcely survived Twelve's bombing almost two years ago. Maybe I only agreed out of guilt, both for never doing this type of endeavor with my sister and for being the direct cause of the bombing itself.

But whatever my reasons were, I agreed to help nonetheless, and I always follow through my promises. If there was one part of me forged in the war, if only one minor aspect of me was amplified in the smoke and haze and blood of revolution, it was the importance of keeping your promises, against all odds.

The dire consequences of a broken promise has long lasting aftereffects, beyond anything either Haymitch or I wish to dwell on.

"Katniss!" Delly calls, holding up an old, half-ripped paper book that is completely void of a front cover. "Look! I think this book is from the old Apothecary Shop!"

I squint at the dusty, decimated item, not entirely convinced. "I don't think so?" I murmur, unable to even decipher the words on the now melted, conjoined pages. "I'm pretty sure my mother kept the only apothecary book in her family?"

Kanon Bagley turns to inspect the battered item in his girlfriend's hands as well. "I don't think this is a medicinal plant book, Dells," he says sheepishly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

She gives him an incredulous look. "What do you mean medicinal?"

I peer up at him too, not comprehending his meaning any more than Delly. "What kind of plants do you think are in here?" I ask, taking the nearly destroyed object myself and flipping through the worn pages again, seeing odd herbs that neither of my parents ever mentioned or had on hand. "These don't look like the poisonous ones my father told me about?"

Kanon bites back a laugh now and I can't help feeling a little perturbed. As kind and soft-spoken as he usually is, I'm foreign to the feeling of him laughing at me. "What?" Delly snaps at him before I even can.

He still chuckles though, in spite of both our nasty glares. "You guys, it's a book of plants that'll get you high."

It takes a full minute for the meaning to dawn on me. Long enough that Leevy and a couple guys I used to go to school with come over to inspect the book as well. Long enough that they confirm Kanon's assessment just as I realize we're talking about plants that'll make you feel akin to how the morphling made me feel while confined for I killing Coin.

While everyone else snickers—and Delly full on chortles—I pass the book back to Kanon, sliding out of the crowd and moving towards a brand new box of savaged items.

It's not that the mention of plant-based drugs is a trigger for me. It's not something I ever truly gave any thought to before, to be honest. My father likely knew of them but it's not like he was about to bestow that kind of knowledge on his eleven-year-old and my mother perhaps felt it was inappropriate to mention.

No, it wasn't the subject in itself that hit a sore spot for me. But like so many times before, it's where the subject led my mind. It's where the topic took me back to.

Snow's Execution Day. The day I chose to kill President Coin instead. Being thrown back into my old tribute room. Getting high on the morphling.

Trying to forget all that I'd lost. Trying to forget my little sister becoming a human torch before my very eyes. My district engulfed in flames. The ambiguous loss of my best friend.

The connection between me and Peeta that I believed then would be permanently severed. That I believed then to be irreparable.

I suppose I believed then I was irreparable too.

And I miss Peeta suddenly, even more than I already did. Because he always knows what to say when my thoughts turn dark, when I'm suddenly triggered out of the happy, every day events and suctioned backwards to a war torn bird with her wings clipped.

But he's not here to talk me down or scare away the ghosts haunting my mind. He's not here to comfort me or even shoot me a supportive glance. No, he's at his very busy business today.

Peeta's bakery—the Mellark Bakery—has only proven to withstand the test of time these past few months. Since someone accidentally burned down the place, with nothing more than a croissant and a fancy Capitol toaster, the rebuilt bakery has been nothing but a success.

And also extremely time-consuming, I grumble internally, as I begin to pull out stuffed toys that once belonged to dead children.

"If any of those are still intact, we can donate them to the community home," Leaf John says as he opens the box across from me.

"And what exactly are we supposed to be use as decorations from these boxes?" I murmur, peering into another cardboard container, full of half-charred papers and cloths.

The general idea of today, as Delly had pitched it to me last week, was to help the community of Twelve finally sort through these boxes, donate what we could to those in need and decorate the new Justice Building with the leftover contents inside.

Somehow though I can't imagine pinning up terrible drawings of plants that'll inebriate you or headless teddy bears is going to bode well with the district.

Delly rolls her eyes in my direction—a whole new kind of response that I never thought I'd be receiving from the girl who skipped through the town square until she was fourteen years old—before nodding towards boxes on top of the ladder. "We're decorating the Justice Building with the surviving photos from those boxes, Katniss."

"Oh." Then why am I sorting these grimy, dirt-covered playthings? Why didn't anyone give me more clear instructions on today?

And why has it taken almost two years for Twelve to get a group of people together to organize the surviving items from the bombing?

I have no idea how Peeta's managed to get two bakeries built in the time it's taken for thirty-eight of us to come to the Justice Building and look through fifty cardboard boxes. And if I'm being honest, I have no idea why I'm even still here helping. I'm clearly not contributing much to the event. There's definitely more than enough volunteers without me.

And, of course, I could be at the bakery right now. Without a doubt, I'd be of more service there than I am here, digging through dusty knickknacks. I could be helping Peeta and Thom and the other part-time employees, exerting more knowledge and authority than I have here.

After all, Peeta did say the bakery was partially mine. In his mind, at least.

The ulterior motive of getting small, fleeting moments with my boyfriend, of basking in the feeling of safety with him beside me, of the occasional stolen kiss or hand squeeze when no one is looking, runs through the back of my mind.

And sways my decision immensely.

I open my mouth to tell Delly and the others that I'm about to head out, that they clearly have it covered here and I'm just in the way, when at the worst possible second, Leevy kindly murmurs, "Katniss, do you mind starting on the box on the ladder? Seeing if any of the pictures are in decent enough shape?"

I hesitate for a long moment, realizing immediately my predicament. It'd be rude to leave right after someone just essentially assigned me a task. I did agree to be here today, to help out with this tedious project. Leaving right now would only come off as rude and inconsiderate.

This is the reason I never did enjoy group assignments in school. The longer I'm here, the more I'm rediscovering this fact about myself. The division of the workload, the bore of the standing around, not knowing if you're doing the right or wrong thing, the lack of total control.

But I still nod after waiting a beat too long and agree with the nicest flare in my tone I can manage.

I'll go through the one box at the top of the ladder and then subtly make my exit afterwards. The image I unintentionally conjured up of Peeta and the bakery is still pulling at me, making me anxious to get back to him, to see him again even though we were together only three hours ago.

Since we officially became a couple a few months back—though Haymitch scoffs at that notion, claiming we've been together since Peeta first started sleeping over in my bed—I've found myself growing far more clingy to him than I ever could have anticipated. I hate when he leaves for the bakery in the mornings now, even as I still revel in the solace I find inside the woods. I look forward to his return home every night. More than even look forward to it, I'm usually at the bakery around the closing hours, helping him clean and inventory, asking him when he's coming home. Maybe looking somewhat unconsciously flirtatious as I say it.

I grab the box sitting on the ladder's top stair and pull it open, easily maintaining my balance one rung down, the same way I maintain my balance on a tree branch while hunting.

Inside pours out a plethora of photographs, mostly of Twelve's now past citizens. Near the top of the pile I see images of Greasy Sae's daughter, Dolly. The mother of her granddaughter. The daughter who died of croup a few years before the war.

Those photos must belong to Sae, I realize. Which means more of her items are probably scattered throughout the boxes here. And despite the fact that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'll tell me not of be impractical, that if she's made it two years without these things she doesn't need them now, I still make a mental note to return her lost items. If nothing else, I make a mental promise to give back to her the photos of her daughter.

I know better than anyone what kind of comfort photographs of the deceased can provide.

As if in line with my thoughts, as if I alone manifested it somehow, the next image that catches my eye is one I entirely do not anticipate.

It's a shiny photo, on the kind of glossy paper my family could never afford. In the image is a blonde man with broad shoulders and a tall build. Wrapped in his embrace stands a petite girl, with long blonde curls and mascara accentuating her already long lashes. The couple both have eyes that match the color of the sky and are dressed up in some of the nicest clothes in all of Twelve. A white dress with lace. A gray suit with a black vest. The pretty girl wears jewelry and lipstick and there's a familiar glint in the male's eyes and I find myself mesmerized.

And I can't pretend I don't see my boyfriend in both of their faces. I can't pretend Peeta isn't the spitting image of both his parents.

He has his mother's smile, I realize with startling assurance. I never saw the witch smile personally, at any point in my life so I suppose I wouldn't know where he got his charming, sweet grin from.

The mannerism looks so out of place on his mother. The kind smile Peeta has, the one that could light up a blackened sky, doesn't bode with the woman in the picture, even on her wedding day. The charming smile doesn't fit with what I know of the woman's character. With what little about her Peeta chooses to share.

But I'm even more surprised to find how much Peeta has come to resemble his father. How much Peeta has grown to favor the now deceased man.

The last time I saw the baker—the original baker, that is. Haidon Mellark—before the Quarter Quell, I resented the fact that Peeta wasn't as tall or as broad as his father. I privately believed if he'd inherited those traits, he'd be even more likely to win the games again and I could worry about him less.

Peeta was always taller than me and was always remarkably strong, after working in the bakery since childhood. But his father was a whole different level. Haidon Mellark, I'd forgotten until now, had a body that could only rival my own father's.

And as it turns out, Peeta did inherit Haidon's physicality. He just also happened to be a late bloomer. Like his mother, I imagine, staring at her tiny frame in the picture.

The change in Peeta's form occurred so gradually I barely even noticed until a couple months ago, when I woke up with my head against his heart and abruptly realized just how broad he had become. Until I couldn't even reach to kiss his jaw on my tip toe. Until he started laughing at me and had to lift me up in order to properly embrace the way I like.

"Katniss?" I hear Delly beckon, trying to bring me back to reality. Trying and failing, that is. I hear her but only in a vague, distant sense. My mind is still stuck on the image in my grasp. Still stuck on the novelty that I managed to find a remembrance for the boy who still at times questions if his memory is full of lies.

"I still cry about my family and somedays I can't even remember their faces."

I never even considered the possibility of finding a token of Peeta's departed family here. It never occurred to me, the potential finds in this box at my fingertips, that I could take home to my boyfriend. I never imagined finding him something to hold onto when the inevitable dark day came again like a storm cloud, full of thunder.

I'm so entranced what this could mean for Peeta, so lost in my own little world, that I'm barely even hanging onto the ladder. I'm definitely not as steady as I should be, standing near the top rung.

And I'm definitely not steady enough to hang on when Delly gives it a rough shake, trying to catch my attention.

The boxes break my fall. Sort of. Kanon and Leaf John had taken the liberty of placing the empty cardboard, already looked through and emptied, beneath the ladder.

Falling headfirst into a large, void box is better than falling plainly onto the filthy, concrete tile floor. But not ideal. Not as helpful as falling into a box of surviving clothes or toys would have been.

Delly apologized profusely for shaking the ladder. She'd even begun to cry when she noticed the blood seeping from my forehead.

Thankfully Kanon was there, as I didn't have the energy to console her much. I don't even know how I managed to cut my head at all, but it stung a fair amount and it provided me the excuse I wanted minutes prior, to escape the group project and head for the bakery.

Even after the fall, my mind still was cemented on the newfound treasure. My first instinct was still to show this memento to Peeta as soon as possible.

Kanon though, like a good friend, insisted on walking me home, despite my many protests that it was unnecessary, that I was just fine, that I could walk home blind if I had to. He insisted, foiling my intention to walk directly to the bakery and not wait for Peeta's return home, which still remained hours away.

Kanon was surprisingly stubborn when he felt strongly about something and I chose to relent, to give in and allow him to accompany me back to what used to be Victor's Village—where he now resided with Delly, inside Peeta's old home—without much fight.

Fighting for your independence and autonomy doesn't exactly present you as rational when there's a bloody gash in your forehead.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Kanon asks as we make out way up my porch.

I look up, maybe a little startled, from Mr. and Mrs. Mellark's wedding photo. "My head?"

"Yeah," he says carefully, looking at the blood like it's a mutt in an arena.

I shrug, doing my best not to indicate how dizzy I actually feel. Either from the fall or the blood still dripping out despite my attempt to plug the wound up with old cotton rags someone sorted into the trash box. "I've had worse."

He chuckles, a little sardonically. "Yeah, so have I."

I thank him for walking me home—for it was as inconvenient as it was sweet—and close the door slowly behind me, before leaning my ear against the wooden frame, waiting. Waiting for him to climb the steps down from my porch and make his way back to the Justice Building. Waiting for him to be far enough out of sight that I can sneak back out without him also trying to accompany me to the bakery.

It's not that I don't appreciate Kanon and Delly and all of my other friends' concerns. It's the fact that I wish to bestow a likely loaded item upon my boyfriend and I really don't need an audience to do it.

It's not the easiest feat, to slyly time it so Kanon won't hear me opening and shutting my front door again. And it's probably not my smartest plan, to walk alone along the rocky cobblestones and the uneven concrete, with a less than level head and body.

But I make it to the back door of the bakery still, just as I knew I would. It takes three times as long, but I make it there nonetheless.

Still clutching the photograph of his parents between my fingers too. Still with the same primary focus on my mind. To give him a token of remembrance, a token of the imperfect family he lost so tragically, that he still greatly missed, even when he can't say their names. Even when he can't conjure up their faces.

"You don't remember your family?"

"Sometimes I do... I'm not so sure other days. My memory isn't exactly top notch, if you know what I mean."

I push open the heavy-weighted back door, using all the energy my body can muster up. To my relief, Thom is already in the back room, sweeping flour off the floor.

"Hi, boss," he greets slyly as I walk in, barely glancing up at me. I shoot him an over-the-top eye roll, though I can't help smirking myself at the stupid nickname, when he beckons Peeta. "Hey, your girl is here!" He yells loudly. Too loudly to be packed with customers at the counter.

I take that to mean the daily rush has come and gone. Which would be very convenient, as it means I can present Peeta with my finding that much faster, without having to worry about his business—or our business, as he teasingly calls it—being held up.

I hear the sound of my boyfriend's quiet laughter from the front. The sound that I akin to my father's singing or my sister's squeal of delight. The last sound still alive that can make my heart do a flip.

But it dies out the second he peaks his blonde head into the back room. The moment his baby blues, the same color as both his parents', meet my silver ones and then trail upwards.

Almost as if remembering the gash in my head, I reach to my forehead, to ensure the makeshift cloth bandage is still in place.

"Katniss?" Peeta says, his eyes looking far more nervous than I anticipated. Which I can only take to mean the red liquid has seeped through the plain fabric. "Is that blood?"

I don't want him to focus too heavily on that fact though. Like I told Kanon, I've had much worse injuries in my life. Me and Peeta both have.

Just look at his prosthetic leg.

"Yes," I reply easily, before moving closer to him, pushing the glossy photograph towards him. "But that doesn't matter right now. What does matter is-"

"You are literally bleeding."

I sigh, feeling slightly perturbed now. "Peeta, look," I insist, thrusting the image of his parents towards him, waiting for it to take anchor.

And it does. It takes a beat longer than I expect, but it happens nonetheless. I watch silently as the image captives him, as the shiny photograph takes him back to a time when this exact location was the only home he'd ever known and this business was run by the two people inside the picture.

He touches the photo, as if to test it's realism, before looking up at me in disbelief. "Where did you find this?"

"The Justice Building today. Inside the boxes, with all the things lost in the bombing."

There's a long pause as Peeta process this. The silence makes me antsy, finding myself abruptly uncertain of what could be going through his mind.

Finally, he whispers softly, "I never thought I'd see this picture again."

And the awed, tender smile that spreads across his face swiftly encompasses me in its warmth.

And I suddenly don't even feel the gash in my head anymore.

Read The Rest On AO3

#everlark #thg #the hunger games #everlark fics #fanfic #everlark fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #play with me 🥰

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the-green-maiden · 3 years

Text

Supernatural Fair Fight Livestream Recap with timestamps

(based off of the notes I took while watching live. any errors are mine and not the fault of the cast or abrams)

21:01 Panel Starts. Misha introduces panel- Stacey Abrams, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padelecki, Erik Kripke, Berto the ASL interpreter.

21:02 Stacey Abrams talks about how she got into SPN. Talks about running for governor(?) in California(?), having trouble gathering support/campaign funds. On a particularly bad day, ends up watching SPN in her hotel room. Loves it, ends up watching the whole show after this. Quotes “Even if it’s hard we can’t stop” and “who else is going to do this” and talks about keeping going.

21:05 Kripke: “Wow”

Ackles: “That’s one of the most beautiful interpretations of what we do, how we tell the story.”

21:06 Kripke: “Grateful we could provide inspiration”

21:07 JarPad: *reiterates above* joke about how “Kripke’s writing is questionable at best.”

21:08 Misha: “The reason we tell stories is to inspire people” creates an allegory about the ‘invisible enemy’ of voter suppression with the invisible enemy trope common in storytelling. “As we made the show, we were taking inspiration from [Abrams]”

21:09 Kripke asks Abrams to tell more about Fair Fight

21:09 Abrams talks about a secretary of state(?) [whose name I didn’t catch but who JPad refers to as ‘Lucifer”] who was in charge of voter registries in Georgia who wrongfully removed thousands of voters from lists, closed essential polling locations, and prevented people from voting, which disproportionately impacted POC and youth voters, and led to 8+ hour wait times in remaining locations. Abrams tells of how her and FF acted to fix this and change the whole system for the better. “If this becomes about politicians, no one is going to care, but when it becomes about people’s [list of basic rights and essential services]...” “...Patriotic belief that democracy means that if you’re eligible to vote, you get to be heard. Fair Fight is committed to ensuring that every voter in the US has the right to vote, and we are pretty good at it.”

21:16 Misha voices concerns about Trump’s attempts to make the 2020 vote counts seem unreliable.

21:17 Abrams gives an in-depth history of voter suppression in the US, committed by both parties at various times, including restrictions on mail-in votes, ID laws, and something about the voting rights act.

21:18 A bunch more panelists join in, including Jake Abel, Felicia Day, and a number of other SPN cast members.

21:19 Abrams says that in Texas a gun license is a valid id to vote, but a college id is not. “Everyone should get to participate, not just the chosen.” Mentions that she has not seen the final 3 episodes yet, request no spoilers until she logs out.

21:22 Kripke thanks Abrams for her political work.

21:22 Felicia Day says she was very excited to meet Abrams at Dragon Con.

21:33 Misha and Kripke try to move panel along to comply with Abrams limited time availability.

21:24 Rachel Miner “We all admire you [Abrams], you’re our hero.”

21:25 JPad gives a long speech thanking Abrams that was too fast to write down verbatim. “It’s important that everyone have their own voice” says it’s an honor to meet Abrams.

21:26 Bob Singer asks a question about Purdue(?) not showing up to a debate.

21:27 Abrams gives a detailed answer about swing states, swing voters, the lack of swing voters in Georgia, and the relatively small impact that Purdue(?) missing a debate would have on his numbers. Long speech about mail-in voting.

21:29 Sebastian Roche asks a question about run-off votes. Abrams answers.

21:30 Rachel Miner asks a question about voter registration descrimination against people w foreign names.

21:31 Abrams talks about how this has happened and what Fair Fight is doing to combat it, and how Fair Fight’s legal actions have managed to significantly reduce the amount of mail-in ballots thrown out for having difficult to understand names on them.

21:33 Shoshanna Stern thanks Abrams for her efforts in making voting more disability accessible.

21:34 Abrams answers, gives more info on the subject and the importance of having accessible voting locations.

21:36 Jim Beaver says it’s wonderful to be able to talk to Abrams, etc.

21:37 Abrams realizes her time has just about run out, and says thank yous and good byes. Mentions that tomorrow is her birthday. Multiple members of the cast wish her a happy birthday. More goodbyes from everyone, and thank yous to and from Abrams. Abrams exits call.

21:39 Kripke and Misha encourage people to donate to FF

21:41 Misha and Jensen rib each other, joke about an open bar.

21:41 Misha “Now we’re just going to waste your time for half an hour now that she’s gone”

21:42 Curtis Armstrong tells a short story about his mother, who was a voter activist in Detroit and Switzerland, and how nice it was to see Abrams talk.

21:43 Trivia intro. Multiple jokes made at the same time about state capitals.

21:44 Jim Beaver “When my kid was 7, I asked her the capital of Vermont and she said V”

21:44 Kripke asks semi-serious question about what JPad wore as protection in the ball-crusher Japanese game show scene in Changing Channels.

21:45 JPad “A thimble. A mini-thimble. No, a cup.” says something else about the cup.

21:46 Ackles “Our special effects team likes to go above and beyond”

21:46 JPad comments about real fear in that scene

21:46 Misha tries to get trivia back on track. “Without powers, what does Dean say Cas is?”

------[Baby in a trenchcoat]

“Other name of the Impala?”

Julie McNiven guesses “A special place”. Someone calls out “baby”

-----[Metallicar]

“Name of Sam and Jess’s friend who goes with them to the bar in the pilot?”

Even JPad, who was in the scene, does not know. Kripke comments that it was named after an irl friend of his from Tiuanna, named LUIS.

“5 works Kripke ripped off for SPN?”

Everyone guessing at once, including: Animal House, On The Road, Good Omens, Constantine, Star Wars, and several others.

“What herpes medication does Sam have to do a commercial for?”

[Herpexia]

21:52 JPad and Julie rib each other about herpes meds, and argue whether the term is prescription or subscription for medication. One of them brings up the example of having a subscription to dog food.

21:52 Jake Abel “What if your dog has herpes?”

Misha “I only hope that Stacey Abrams has tuned in”

Seb makes another joke about state capitals, then asks JPad the capital of Albania.

Jared has no idea, guesses ‘new albania’

Seb “Tirana” talks about having lived on a boat, presumably near Albania.

Rob Benedict: “Thanks for tuning in”

Bob Singer asks who knows the story of Seb getting a massage at VAncouver airport.

Jared (paraphrased) “We all fly through Vancouver airport a lot. Just past security there’s a massage place [with the chairs where you face the floor].” One day JPad and Ackles went through security and saw Seb getting a massage. They go over, convince the masseuse [who knows them all at this point] to let JPad take over. Seb does not notice, despite the fact that the masseuse is a small woman and JPad is holding his hands weird to try to make them smaller. JPad says he put his hands down Seb’s back and up his shirt, and Seb still did not notice, just making a noise and saying ‘very nice’. JPad gets as far as groping Seb’s ass before Seb notices anything is up. This is still the middle of a busy airport.

21:58 Seb “It was strangely sensual. Thank you, Robert, for bringing that up.” “I was perturbed for the whole flight back.”

Ackles “Another highbrow story”

Seb “It’s really fun being on that set. It really is” Claims they are also serious sometimes, to which there is laughter in response.

Ackles “It going to be like that on The Boys, Krip?”

Kripke “No massages to completion”

Seb “Wait there was no completion”

Krip “Saw photos of [Ackles’s] supersuit today”

Multiple jokes from several people about Ackle costume for The Boys being assless, crotchless, entirely made of paint, and cowboy-themed.

22:01 Misha “time for about 5 minutes of outtakes”

Someone jokes about adding ‘give Seb a massage’ as a donation tier.

Misha thanks the fans, says he loves and misses all the cast. Asks Rob B to sing.

22:02 Rob B “tune into my radio show” [for singing]

22:03 Misha announced that $225,000 has been raised for charity so far in the stream.

More thank yous from everyone to everyone, including the zoom team.

22:04 Seb “Vote out Mitch McConnel:

Jensen “Such as British accent to tell us who to vote for”

Seb “I’m half French half Scottish”

Jensen and Seb joke about scottish and french alcohols, and how they can’t be mixed.

22:05 Kripke thanks the fans for 15 years. Everyone else joins in on thanking fans for 15 years.

Jake Abel “There was a big gap in there for me somewhere”

Seb asks if Jake was in the first season.

22:06 Jake “3rd, 5, and 15”

Seb gives long thank you speech.

Jensen talks about how the cast is sticking together “This group is not being dispersed”...”I take comfort in knowing this” jokes that they’re stuck together whether they like it or not.

Misha “Like herpes”

Felicia “Genital or otherwise”

22:07 gag reel begins, including Misha’s ‘on-camera finger, Jensen falling off a chair “furniture could use some work”, Jensen failing to pick a lock for a very long time and Jared asking ‘Cas” to open it, Jensen saying ‘hail misha’ instead of ‘hail mary’, Misha failing to keep a straight face while looking at Alex Calvert, Jensen eating something too hot(?), and more that someone has probably already uploaded in full anyway.

21:13 stream ends.

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hysterialevi · 3 years

Text

Hjarta | Chapter 7

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FIVE DAYS LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE TEMPLE

Eivor cradled the basket in his hand, meticulously examining its contents to ensure that everything was in order.

At the moment, he was preparing to make an offering to Thor as thanks for their good fortune on the day of the ambush, and had arranged a humble collection of different gifts for the mighty god.

Inside the basket, he had placed a variety of meat, beer, mead, sweets, and a dagger from his own personal armory. Normally, Eivor wasn’t the type to depend entirely on the gods for safety, but considering recent events, he wanted to secure a strong relationship with them in case a tempest were to strike the village. He had no idea if Kjotve was planning any other attacks in addition to the ambush, and he could think of no one better to appeal to other than the Defender of Midgard.

He just worried that his offering might not have been sufficient. It was a well-known fact that the thunder god enjoyed things in great quantity, and Eivor didn’t have that much to give at the moment. Ingrida always said that no offering was too small, but even then, the man prayed that his gift wouldn’t be considered measly. Things were precarious enough in Bjornheimr as it was; Eivor did not wish to vex the gods as well.

Working his way up the hill, the Wolf-Kissed spread a layer of cloth over the basket’s opening and held it tightly underneath his arm, careful not to disturb its contents.

He could hear the drinks sloshing inside their bottles to the rhythm of his footsteps, and a handful of scattered clinks reached his ears as they softly bumped into each other. Meanwhile, tiny snowflakes began to gather on the fabric lying above, and sunk into the cloth’s neatly-knit threads. They dotted the surface with jeweled specks of ice and clung onto Eivor’s skin, giving him a slight chill.

The weather wasn’t exactly ideal for spending any time outside -- the snow seemed to be piling up higher than usual today -- but the young man carried on with his plan nonetheless.

Reaching the top of the hill, Eivor strolled past the charms decorating the sides of the path, only to stop in his tracks when a nearby pair of voices caught his attention.

Up ahead, Eivor saw Ingrida and Sigurd talking with each other underneath the roof of the temple, just barely avoiding the snow that came blowing their way. The prince wore a wary expression on his face and spoke to the seeress about a matter of deep concern, causing a sense of anxiety to swell in Eivor’s chest.

It was fairly clear to the Wolf-Kissed that his friend spent a lot of energy concealing the many troubles in his life, but the fact that he felt the need to reach out to their völva worried him to a significant degree.

He hadn’t seen Sigurd ever since their conversation in the tavern after all, and he was oblivious to any new issues that may have risen during their time apart. It was unusual to see the prince in such a state, and Eivor had to admit that his curiosity was beginning to get the best of him.

He only hoped that Ulfar wasn’t the source of his perturbed nature. The man made his feelings about Sigurd quite plain back in the tavern, and Eivor had never known him as a person to shy away from confrontation. It was a blessing of a trait in most situations, but a hinderance in this one.

“...You’re certain there’s no other explanation?” Sigurd asked, clearly unhappy with the response he got.

Ingrida crossed her arms, reiterating her point. “I will tell you the same thing I told Eivor. I cannot speak in absolutes, for I do not know the gods’ intentions. I can attempt to decipher the messages they convey, but ultimately, it is impossible to offer anything unambiguous.”

The prince let out a troubled sigh. “I... I see.”

“I realize this must be disturbing news, but look at it this way. At least you are prepared now. You have an inkling of what to expect, and sometimes, a mere suspicion can be enough to save one’s life. Obviously, I do not mean to stoke any paranoia within you, but a little caution would be wise.”

Sigurd nodded, taking the woman’s words to heart. “Of course, but you understand if I say this is difficult for me to accept. I don’t doubt your prediction, seeress, but... I just can’t fathom why anyone would--”

The man came to an abrupt pause, stopping mid-sentence when his eyes fell upon Eivor in the distance.

“--Oh,” he said, his voice still laden with unease, “Eivor. I didn’t see you there.”

Ingrida followed Sigurd’s line of sight, smiling in the Wolf-Kissed’s direction. “Ah, hello, little cub.” She eyed the basket in his hands. “Come to make an offering?”

Eivor hugged the object close to his chest, admittedly growing somewhat weary of bearing its weight.

“Yes, seeress. I hoped to thank Thor for our survival in the forest.”

The woman appeared pleased. “An excellent idea. Go on and present your gift to the gods. I will ensure that nothing disturbs it.” Ingrida brought her eyes back to the prince. “As for you, Sigurd, try not to let this revelation suppress you. You are a man of many responsibilities. Your clan needs you to stay focused.”

“...Of course. You’re right.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Ingrida began making her way back inside the temple, strolling through the arch. “This war is nearly over, but the battle has not ceased. Do not surrender just yet. Either of you.”

Shutting the door behind her, the seeress disappeared behind the temple’s walls and returned to her duties, leaving Eivor and Sigurd alone. Meanwhile, the younger man approached his friend and glanced at him in an inquisitive manner, hoping to calm his nerves somewhat.

“Sigurd?” He asked. “Are you alright? A cloud of unrest hangs over you.”

The prince took a moment to gather his thoughts, not wanting to alarm his companion too much. “I’m... I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.” He glanced at the basket in his grasp. “What’ve you got there?”

Eivor lifted the cloth. “Just some food and drink for Thor, and a blade as well. I figured I should bring something of great quantity considering our luck that day. What about you? What brings you to the temple? You looked... frightened when I arrived.”

Sigurd sauntered towards the other man, speaking as he walked. “Nothing of immediate urgency. I’ve just been having these strange dreams lately. Visions.”

“Visions? Really? Of what?”

“A wolf.” He answered. “At first, I merely dismissed the dream as a simple nightmare, but it’s been occurring over and over again. In the same way, and in the same order. So, I came to Ingrida for answers.”

Eivor’s interest was hooked. “Tell me about this wolf. What did it do? What did it look like?”

“The wolf was as white as snow,” Sigurd described. “Its eyes split the darkness with a predatory glare, and its stature challenged that of a fully grown man. Its snout and teeth were stained red with the pigment of fresh blood, and hiding behind its features, I... I could almost... recognize someone.”

“Recognize?” Eivor repeated. “What do you mean? This was a wolf, was it not? How could it resemble a human?”

The prince shrugged. “I have no idea, but... I felt it. There was something familiar about the wolf’s face. It was a sensation that I have no proper words to describe.”

The young man tilted his head towards the temple. “And? What did Ingrida have to say about these visions?”

Sigurd was quiet for a second, hesitant to tell the truth.

“...She believes this vision foretells a betrayal.”

Eivor’s eyes widened in surprise. “A betrayal? At whose hands?”

“She doesn’t know, and neither do I. I have no reason to suspect anyone just yet, but somehow, that almost makes it even worse.”

“How did the seeress come to this conclusion?” Eivor questioned. “What makes her believe betrayal is the only answer?”

“Because she had a similar vision,” Sigurd explained. “Ingrida tells me the gods sent her a dream the night before I arrived. Apparently, she saw a man who looked just like me. He bore the same mark upon his neck, and his eyes glowed with a raging fire. The ground beneath him was soaked in blood dripping from the stump of his own arm, and standing behind him was another white wolf, prowling in the shadows.”

A thought crossed Eivor’s mind. “...I suppose that explains why she called you ‘the one who walks with Tyr.’ It also explains why she was skeptical of you when you first met.”

“I suppose it does,” the prince agreed. “But what connection could I possibly have with Tyr? And why me? What makes me so special?”

Eivor shrugged. “I don’t know. You mentioned you used to have dreams about a kingdom constructed of iron when you were a child. Do you think that could be related?”

“...Perhaps? But I don’t see how it would fit into all this. The kingdom I saw looked nothing like any of the places I’ve ever heard about. Not Helheim, and certainly not Valhalla. It likely originates from a place beyond this realm, but the purpose of its existence continues to elude me.”

Sigurd sighed deeply, resting his hands on his hips. “...Forgive me. I don’t mean to dump all of this onto you. You probably have enough on your shoulders.” He switched to a lighter subject, deciding to put his fears to rest for the time-being.

“How have you been, Eivor? Is your wound feeling any better? I planned to check on you multiple times, but I fear that my duties always got in the way.”

“No worries. It’s just started to heal. Ingrida says it’s going to leave quite a prominent scar in its absence, but well, it’s better than dying.”

A smirk twinkled on Sigurd’s face. “...I like it.”

“Really?”

“Why not? It gives you character. It makes you look like a warrior.”

Eivor chuckled. “That, or a fool who wasn’t able to handle himself in a fight.”

Sigurd’s smile only brightened. “Nonsense. Each scar you bear is a battle that you survived. Wear it with pride.” He patted his friend on the arm. “But enough about that. I was actually planning to visit you after speaking with the seeress.”

The Wolf-Kissed quirked a brow. “What for?”

“I wanted to take you up on your offer. For fishing. I was down at the docks earlier today, and saw some decent-looking fish roaming in the water. Still in the mood for it?”

Eivor nodded, grinning joyously at the man. “Without a doubt. We can find a boat and take it into the fjord. There are plenty of spots I can show you. Just let me finish my offering for Thor first.”

“Of course. I’ll meet you there when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’ll gather some supplies. See you soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE DOCKS

Pacing eagerly towards the pier, Eivor strolled excitedly through the village with an unusual spring in his step, smiling to himself as he briskly made his way past all the other buildings.

It had been a while since he last got the chance to spend any time with Sigurd, and he imagined that the two of them would have plenty of catching up to do. Even though they hadn’t bumped into each other for the past few days, Eivor always spotted the prince zipping back and forth around Bjornheimr, tending to his never-ending list of duties.

The man always looked so busy. Eivor was well-aware that a prince’s life wasn’t nearly as laid-back as other people expected, but even Sigurd’s schedule seemed to be overflowing with a ludicrous amount of responsibilities. He hardly had any time to even sit down, and the sockets around his eyes had darkened slightly due to a lack of sleep.

Eivor just hoped Sigurd was okay.

Finally arriving at the docks, the Wolf-Kissed came to a halt and gazed at this surroundings, trying to single out the prince’s head of red hair from the crowd. He eventually located the tall man standing at the edge of the pier with a basket and a pair of fishing rods, but to Eivor’s surprise, he wasn’t alone.

Dag seemed to have also joined the party, in spite of the sour expression plastered on his face. He was conversing with Sigurd in an agitated tone, and his brow had crinkled in a manner that displayed obvious annoyance. Strangely enough though, the prince didn’t appear to mirror his temperament.

Just what was going on?

“Sigurd!” Eivor called out, causing both of them to turn their heads.

“Ah,” Sigurd replied radiantly, “Eivor. There you are. I was just asking Dag if he wanted to join us. I hope that’s not a problem?”

The younger man would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t somewhat disappointed, but he didn’t have the heard to tell him “no.” He knew Dag was a close friend of Sigurd’s after all, and he didn’t want to interfere. But still... part of him had been looking forward to spending the day with the prince alone.

“No,” Eivor lied, “not at all. He can come if he likes.”

“Great.” Sigurd brought his gaze to Dag. “So, what do you say? Care to go fishing with us?”

To Eivor’s relief, the man refused.

“I appreciate the offer,” Dag said flatly, “but I can’t accept. I have other things to do. You two go on without me.”

“Are you sure?” Sigurd asked, somewhat put off by his friend’s dour mood. “The weather has calmed down since this morning. Now’s the perfect opportunity to take a break. We’ll only be gone for a short while.”

Dag nodded in a dismissive fashion. “Yes, I’m sure. I have many things to take care of, and I’m afraid they cannot wait. Like I said, you two can go without me.”

Sigurd’s eyes dimmed at his friend’s response. “...Well, alright. If you’re certain.”

“I am. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

Storming off like a pouty toddler, Dag practically stomped away from the scene and swiftly made himself scarce, leaving Sigurd and Eivor with an uncomfortable silence. The two of them watched in confusion as the man disappeared in the distance, and not too longer after he vanished, they exchanged glances with each other, bewildered by what just happened.

“What was that about?” Eivor asked. “Is something wrong with Dag?”

Sigurd sighed in frustration, reaching down to grab the basket. “You know what? I’ve been asking myself the same thing. Dag’s been acting this way ever since the feast, and I don’t know why. This kind of behavior is unusual for him.”

“Have you talked to him?”

The older man lifted the basket onto his shoulder, walking towards the end of the pier as Eivor followed him from behind.

“Not yet, no. And even if I did, I’m not sure he would give me a straight answer. Dag’s never been the type to open up so easily. I’m just wondering if it’s because of something I did.”

His friend was quiet for a moment. “Does Dag always behave like this?”

Sigurd shook his head. “No, actually. He’s still the same man I know most of the time, but... recently, he’s been going through these random bouts of anger. And they’re always directed at me.”

The prince placed the basket down on a boat waiting beside the pier, carefully stepping onto it as it gently bobbed up and down with the water’s movement.

“I just wish he would talk to me. Dag is a dear friend of mine, and I don’t want anything to be wedged between us. Especially not after hearing Ingrida’s prediction.”

Eivor gave him a sympathetic look. “Try not to let it worry you. I’m sure Dag’s just stressed out from the constant battling with Kjotve. I know we all are. He’ll open up to you when he’s ready.”

Sigurd let out a breath. “...I hope so. I have enough on my plate at the moment. I don’t have time to be running around in circles with Dag. The sooner he opens up, the better.”

He suddenly glanced up at his companion, deciding to leave the subject alone. “But push that aside. You came here to fish, not to listen to my life problems. Are you ready to go?”

The younger man stepped off the dock and took a seat across from Sigurd, excited for the ride ahead.

“Ready when you are.”

“Wonderful. Thank you for coming with me, by the way, Eivor. I apologize if I seem more stern than usual. I fear that this past week taken a toll on me.”

Eivor took no offense. “There’s no need to apologize. We’re all going through a lot. It’s only normal. Just try to forget about it for now.”

“I’m glad you understand. You seem to be the only one these days. But... you’re right. Today is a day meant for relaxing. Let us not spoil it. Come on, why don’t you show me those fishing spots you mentioned? I’m eager to see them.”

The Wolf-Kissed grabbed the oar and smirked at Sigurd, pushing their boat away from the pier. “As you command, my prince.”

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE FJORD

Venturing deep into the fjord’s divine embrace, Sigurd and Eivor traversed across the water’s glassy surface, steadily gliding along with its rippled waves. They made sure not to put too much distance between them and the village as they did with the waterfall, but even then, the sheer size of the fjord was enough to make them feel as if they had stepped into another world.

All around them, mountains extended into the sky for what seemed like miles, and appeared to kiss the base of the clouds. Their peaks were frosted with fresh snow that floated down from the heavens, and their base remained concealed beneath the ocean, forming a basin fit for the gods themselves.

Meanwhile, a thin curtain of fog draped itself over the mountains’ rugged forms and obscured the landscape waiting ahead, encompassing the world in a layer of mist that stood as a barrier between the two men and the secular village they left behind.

It was the perfect place to clear one’s thoughts, and Eivor could see that Sigurd was already beginning to unwind. The disquieted expression that once hung on his face had vanished, and at the moment, he was currently sitting peacefully on the boat, watching contently as fish poked their fins out from the water’s surface.

They were completely alone out here, and Eivor wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“So,” the younger man said, “what’ve you been doing these past few days? I haven’t had the chance to talk with you in a while.”

“Oh, nothing too exciting,” Sigurd answered, leaning back in his seat. “I’ve joined your father and Ulfar at the war table quite a few times now, and I’ve also been getting to know Randvi more. It’s difficult to juggle between the two, but things have been going according to plan so far.”

Eivor threw a puzzled look at him. “What about your father? Does he not take part in your conversations in the war room?”

The other man hesitated for a second. “Oh, h-he does, but... well, he’s been occupied lately. Sometimes I take his place.”

Eivor couldn’t deny that he found the response a bit odd, but he decided not to pry any further. “I see. And what about Ulfar? I hope he hasn’t given you any trouble.”

It was Sigurd’s turn to be confused now. “Ulfar? No, none at all. Why would he?”

The Wolf-Kissed sighed sheepishly, unsure of how to explain. He assumed Ulfar would have already expressed his concerns to the prince about his ability to be a leader, but evidently, he was wrong.

“I, well... I suppose there’s no harm in letting you know. The day you and I went to the tavern, Ulfar stayed for a drink after you left. Initially, he was in a rather foul mood, and it was directed at you. He said you almost got me killed in the forest.”

A look of guilt spread across Sigurd’s face. “...Ah, I see.”

“I spoke with him, though,” Eivor reassured. “I convinced Ulfar it wasn’t your fault, and he told me he’d withhold any further judgement for now. That’s why I asked if he had given you any trouble. I was curious to know if he still harbored these doubts. But don’t let it bother you. Whatever Ulfar does, it’s only to keep me and my siblings safe.”

Sigurd shook his head in disagreement. “No, he’s right. I should’ve been more careful that day. I made a foolish decision, and you nearly paid the price. It’s a good thing you’re a skilled warrior. Otherwise, I’d probably be responsible for your death by now.”

Eivor’s expression sank with pity. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault what happened in the woods that day. You could’ve run off at the first sign of danger, but instead, you risked your life to save me. And everyone knows it. Even Ingrida.”

“Well, I may not be at fault,” the man conceded, “but I was ill-prepared for such an ordeal. If I’m going to be king someday, I need to be able to protect people. That includes you.” Sigurd shifted his position slightly, sitting more upright. “I promise, Eivor, I won’t endanger you like that again.”

The young man grinned. “I appreciate it, but we’re in the midst of a war. I’m afraid we don’t have much choice. Anything can happen at any time.”

“True, but I’ll still do everything I can to keep you and your people safe.” Sigurd displayed a small smile. “Death may be inevitable, but that’s no reason to let it take us so willingly. That’s why we have shields.”

Eivor chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”

The two of them trailed off into silence briefly, only for the prince to bring up another topic.

“Hey, speaking of Ulfar, did you hear his report?”

“No.” Eivor said.

“Well, apparently, he and his men found two camps in the woods not too far from where we were attacked. They both belonged to Kjotve.”

“Really? How many men were there?”

Sigurd conjured a rough estimation. “About ten each.”

“Ten?” The Wolf-Kissed repeated in alarm. “That’s nearly two dozen in total. That’s enough men to carry out a small raid.”

“Indeed. We’re lucky Ulfar was able to drive them out before their numbers grew anymore. Thankfully though, he didn’t uncover any plans to attack Bjornheimr. He believes these particular men were just scouts sent here to keep an eye on the village and send information back to Kjotve. Our encounter with them wasn’t coordinated. A few of his people simply decided to take matters into their own hands.”

Eivor found some comfort in that. “Well, that’s a relief, at least. Still, I wonder how Kjotve will respond to this.”

Sigurd raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“If these men were sending regular reports to Kjotve, he’s going to realize something’s wrong when they come to a sudden stop. He might even send reinforcements.”

The older man couldn’t help but admit he had a point. “Hmm. That does sound likely. I’ll have to warn your father and Ulfar about the possibility of retaliation. We may be preparing for a wedding, but Freya knows that won’t stop Kjotve from spilling blood.”

A shiver traveled down Eivor’s spine. “What if... what if he comes to Bjornheimr? What do you think we’ll do?”

The answer seemed fairly clear to Sigurd. “We’ll fight, of course. What else?”

“No, no,” his friend corrected, “I didn’t quite mean it like that. I just...” Eivor gazed down at his father’s axe, tracing a hand down its grip, “...I’ve spent so many years thinking about how I would take my revenge on Kjotve; for what he did to my parents. I’ve convinced myself that I’d slit his throat without a second thought, but... if he actually shows up, I don’t know if it’ll be that easy. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

A sense of empathy softened Sigurd’s eyes. “It won’t be easy. But whatever happens, make sure you fight for what matters. Ideally, Kjotve will never set foot on your shores, but if he does, fight not for revenge. Fight for the honor your father lost. Only then can you know true peace.”

Eivor stared aimlessly at the water surrounding them, trying to block out the memories of that horrible night. “...I’ll try. Even if it kills me.”

The younger man watched the soothing rhythm of the waves dancing around them and fell into a deep train of thought, only to be pulled out again when Sigurd’s voice reached his ears.

“Hey,” he said gently, leaning closer to his companion, “are you alright, Eivor?”

The Wolf-Kissed blinked a few times, still somewhat lost in his own past. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s just... difficult to think about, you know. My parents were killed over a decade ago, and yet, their words from that night remain fresh in my head. It’s hard to ignore them sometimes.”

“Of course,” Sigurd replied. “I understand.”

“Anyway,” Eivor said, not wishing to dwell on the grim subject any longer, “you mentioned you’ve been seeing Randvi more earlier. How are things going between the two of you?”

“We still don’t know each other that well,” Sigurd confessed, “but she strikes me as a kind woman; an honorable one. I think we can make this marriage work. Although, I must admit... it’s bizarre to think about how she’ll be my wife in only a week from now. The future felt so far away when I first got here, and yet, these past seven days have fleeted by within a heartbeat. It just makes me wonder how fast the wedding will arrive.”

Eivor caught onto his tone. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes, and so is Randvi. But I think we’re both slowly coming to terms with it.” A glint of curiosity formed in the prince’s gaze. “What about you, Eivor? Have you ever considered marriage?”

The man laughed. “Me? No, not really. I’ve had partners in the past, but... nothing serious. It’s difficult to imagine someone marrying me, if I’m being honest.”

Sigurd scoffed. “Psh. Nonsense. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their spouse.”

“You think?”

The older man shrugged. “Why not? You’re compassionate, humorous, handsome, and--” Sigurd suddenly froze in shock, utterly embarrassed by his own words.

Meanwhile, Eivor simply gave him an appreciative smirk, undeniably amused by his slip-up.

“You consider me handsome, do you?” He teased.

Sigurd stammered bashfully and brought a hand to the back of his neck, barely able to hold eye contact with the Wolf-Kissed anymore. “Gods above... erm, f-forgive me, Eivor. I... I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s alright.” He interrupted. “The truth is, I think you’re handsome too.”

The prince paused at Eivor’s remark, calming down somewhat. “You... do?”

Eivor chuckled, leaning forward in his seat. “Yes, you fool. Who wouldn’t? You’re strong, kind, caring, and you...” the young man caught himself before he could say anything else and stopped mid-sentence, abruptly retreating from his comments as Sigurd watched him quietly.

“...No,” Eivor said, his tone much more sullen now. “I can’t do this.”

Sigurd found himself growing concerned. “What’s wrong?”

The other man sighed in despondency, looking shamefully away from his friend. Eivor assured Ingrida that he wouldn’t allow his emotions to interfere with the upcoming wedding, and yet, he had barely been able to stop himself just now.

His thoughts slipped free from his lips as if they carried a mind of their own, and if it weren’t for the fact that everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance, Eivor had no idea how far he truly would’ve gotten.

His ability to restrain his desires was already being crippled just after a week of knowing Sigurd, and the looming reality of his feelings was enough to send Eivor into a state of panic and loneliness.

These next few days were going to be nothing but absolute turmoil for him, and sooner or later, he’d have to accept it. He just didn’t know how.

“Sigurd...” Eivor whispered sorrowfully, “...can I be honest with you?”

The older man nodded. “Of course. What’s going on?”

The Wolf-Kissed looked him directly in the eye, taking a deep breath. “...The truth is, ever since we met at that feast, I’ve been infatuated with you.”

Sigurd’s brow furrowed in shock. “...You have?”

“Yes. Whenever we’re apart, I’m always thinking about when I’ll see you next, or how you’re doing. I care about you, and I worry about your well-being despite being no more than an acquaintance.”

The prince knotted his hands together in thought. “And what about when you’re with me?”

Eivor showed a faint smile to him, but its facade was quickly betrayed by the pain in his gaze. “I feel at peace. I feel like nothing in the world can touch us. I feel a certain way that I’ve never felt before with anyone else, and it... it frightens me sometimes.”

The young man continued. “But I can’t allow these feelings to develop any further. No matter how persistent they may be. We’re both bound by our duties, and yours is to secure an alliance with my clan. The only thing I can provide for you is a distraction that you can’t afford.” Eivor slunk back to his end of the boat, hiding inside the shell that he constantly wore. “...I’m sorry, Sigurd. But our relationship can’t go beyond this.”

Sigurd offered nothing other than silence in return and simply delved into his own thoughts, gazing downwards in a desolate manner. It was clear that he mirrored the same affections that Eivor expressed, but he felt even more reluctant to share them now that he knew about the other man’s views.

It was the burden of being a prince, he supposed. Everyone always told Sigurd that his choices were his own, and yet, he was being forced to repress something that others would’ve been more than happy to admit. His life had been nothing more than one big preparation to rule the kingdom someday, but he felt as if he hardly had any control over his own life.

Still, Sigurd knew Eivor was right, and he knew he couldn’t afford to deviate from the path set out in front of him. The war with Kjotve was much bigger than either of them, and everyone’s safety was depending on this alliance.

“I... understand, Eivor.” He said quietly.

The younger man hung his head low, unable to ignore the guilt settling into his mind. “I’m sorry it has to be like this, Sigurd.”

“Don’t be. What you’re doing is noble. Not everyone would have your restraint.”

Eivor’s mood barely lightened at that. “It doesn’t feel noble. But I know it’s necessary.”

Sigurd nodded solemnly, unsure of what to say anymore. “...Indeed.”

Having had enough of this place, the older man took hold of the oar and stuck it into the water, eager to return to solid land.

“We should starting heading back.” He said abruptly, earning a tilt of the head from Eivor.

“Already? Are you sure? We haven’t even been out for that long.”

“I know, but I fear that my free time is rather limited today. An abundance of tasks awaits me in Bjornheimr, and I’m almost certain that my father will require my presence as well.”

Eivor peered at Sigurd with concern, clearly able to see that he had been affected by their conversation.

“Okay.” He agreed tentatively. “If you’re sure.”

“I am. Come on, I’ll row you back to the village. Just sit back and relax.”

Guiding their boat away from the fjord, Sigurd steadily drove them back to the shoreline without uttering another word as Eivor sat quietly on his side, admittedly feeling somewhat remorseful for having dimmed the mood.

Initially, he had been excited to spend more time with the forlorn prince, but now, he wondered if he had made a mistake. It was no question that a special type of bond connected the two of them, and Eivor mentally scolded himself for allowing it to strengthen even further.

At this point, part of him was considering the idea of severing their relationship. It was difficult enough battling the constant temptation that he felt whenever he was with Sigurd, so Eivor thought that, perhaps, it might’ve been best if he simply eliminated the chance for it to show up again.

There would be no need to practice restraint if the prince avoided him altogether. They would be complete strangers just like before, and Eivor wouldn’t have to worry about clashing with his desires on a daily basis.

But... he knew he wouldn’t be able to do such a thing. He cared about Sigurd too much, despite only having known him for a week. That man housed something special within his heart, and the last thing Eivor wanted was to cast it aside.

Still, he didn’t know how he would proceed from here. Sigurd was aware of his admiration now, and any interactions between them would’ve bred nothing but awkwardness.

They both needed some time to get their thoughts in order, and frankly, Eivor was starting to feel grateful that the other man decided to make such a swift exit. He needed to be alone for a while, and it was evident that Sigurd also had plenty to think about himself.

It was one of those moments where Eivor felt the urge to seek out guidance, and he knew exactly who to get it from.

He just worried that they would tell him precisely what he didn’t want to hear.

~~~~~~~~~~

BJORNHEIMR, THE DOCKS

“Here we are.” Sigurd announced, letting the boat drift towards the pier as he gazed into the distance. “...And it looks like Dag is waiting for me. Just like I expected.”

Eivor stood up from his seat. “What does he want from you?”

His friend put down the oar and climbed back onto the docks, taking their supplies with him. “Nothing. It’s my father who probably wants something. Dag is merely the messenger. I just hope it’s not what I think it is.”

Walking briskly ahead of the other man, Sigurd strode down the wooden pier and made a beeline straight for Dag as Eivor hurried to his side, abandoning the boat.

A newfound irritation had worked its way into the prince’s usually serene demeanor, and the Wolf-Kissed wondered if he’d finally learn the reason behind Styrbjorn’s aforementioned absence at the war table.

“Dag,” the redhead called out in a firm tone. “What are you doing here?”

The bulky warrior removed himself from the tree he had been leaning on and approached Sigurd, appearing no more pleased than before.

“The king requests your presence at the longhouse.” He informed. “There’s a problem he needs your help with.”

Sigurd sighed in defeat, plopping the basket down in frustration. “Of course he does. Is it the same ‘problem’ as yesterday?”

Dag nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

The prince shook his head angrily. “That drink-addled fool...! He promised me this wouldn’t be an issue. What is he doing now?”

“He’s waiting for you in his chambers. Same as always. I suggest you hurry. He’s in a worse state than usual.”

Sigurd’s face stiffened with ire. “And it’s no one else’s fault but his. What is that man thinking?” He paused for a second, recomposing himself. “...Thank you for letting me know, Dag. Hopefully, we’ll never have to have this conversation again.”

The raider began strolling away from them, pessimistic about the idea. “Hopefully, but not likely.”

Removing himself from the scene, Dag disappeared once again while Eivor took his place, confused as to what just happened. It was quite obvious to him that Styrbjorn seemed to be at the core of this issue, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what the issue was exactly.

“What’s going on?” Eivor asked. “Is your father safe? Do you need any help?”

Sigurd quickly rejected the offer. “No, no. He’ll be fine. He’s just being an idiot. It’s best if I deal with this alone. Believe me.”

The younger man’s curiosity remained fervent, but he decided not to press anymore. The prince was evidently in a state of heightened exasperation at the moment, and Eivor suspected that any further questions would’ve only earned him more animosity.

“...Alright. If you say so. But don’t hesitate to ask for my aid if you need it.”

“Thank you, Eivor. I appreciate it.”

Forcing himself to relax, Sigurd rubbed his temple out of stress and turned to face Eivor, softening the jagged edge of his voice.

“Forgive me. I don’t mean to be so irate, but things are chaotic enough as it is, and my father is only making things worse. He’s ignoring all of his responsibilities, and piling them on my shoulders instead. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t affecting me.”

Something clicked in Eivor’s head. “So that’s why you’ve been so busy.”

“Yes. That, and a few other things. But those matters are irrelevant right now. The only important thing I have to say is... thank you. For taking the time to come with me today.”

“Of course, Sigurd. You need only ask.”

The older man beamed warmly. “...You truly are a blessing. You know that, Eivor? I genuinely believe you’re the only person I can fully rely on. You’re a man worthy of trust.” He placed his hands on his hips, returning to his usual temperament. “But I’ve idled for long enough. My father’s probably wondering where I am. Feel free to take all the fish we caught. You deserve it for putting up with me today.”

Eivor took the basket in hand, waving goodbye to Sigurd. “Farewell for now, my friend. Take care of yourself. And remember, I’m here if you need me.”

The prince started heading in the direction of the longhouse, returning the wave with one of his own.

“The same goes to you. I may be busy, but my door’s always open, Wolf-Kissed. I only pray that our next meeting will be under better circumstances. Until then, stay safe. We all need you.”

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

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tmngoose · 3 years

Text

Cause for Concern: an OC one-shot

Alternate Title: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Rikki, Red Fox, Jupiter Jim, Clem, Rikki's mom (mentioned) Tags: ANGST, Anxiety, Distress, Poor familial relationships, Abuse, Minor Injuries/bruising/scabs, Hurt/Comfort, Blanket forts, Lots of comforting, Additional Tags to be added... Summary: Rikki gets a letter in the mail and Red has a right to worry. Word Count: ~1,799 -x- A/N: I know what you're thinking. "Goosey! This isn't any of the updates you promised us >:C what's up with this OC baloney?" -- Ok, yes, but listen; I wrote this mainly to practice writing Red Fox and Jupiter Jim since I'll be (ahem) writing them very soon for a certain somethin'-somethin' (Also? I need to update Let's Make a Deal and this was good practice to get back into writing for Rikki). I won't be uploading this to my Ao3. Read Cause for Concern under the read more:

It started with a letter—a small black envelope that came in with the rest of the mail: the bills, the take-out menus, and the weekly Stock and Shop circulars.

It was addressed to Rikki, which was odd to Red since Rikki never received mail; at least nothing intimate.

"Hey, Rikki! You got mail today!" Red said as soon as the mongoose returned from her shift at Clem's. She presented Rikki with the black envelope, her tail swishing excitedly.

"That's for me?" Rikki raised a brow.

They settled down at the kitchen table. Red sat across from Rikki, who examined the mysterious piece of mail. There was no return address, and the envelope was perfumed with something that made Rikki's nose wrinkle. She turned the envelope over, and that was when she saw it; the ivory wax seal depicting the image of fang—her family's crest.

Red's grin shrank as Rikki tensed, the color draining from her face, "Well? Who's it from, Rik?"

"It's… ah…," Rather than answering Red, Rikki reached for their salt shaker and unscrewed the metal cap. She poured a perfect circle onto the wooden surface, then dropped the envelope into its center.

Suddenly, it burst into a column of purple flames.

"Oh, my stars!" Red gasped. Her red banded-tail morphed into a giant hand and reached into the cabinet under the sink for the fire extinguisher.

"Don't worry, it'll put itself out," stated Rikki, unbothered by the phenomena. "It's a hex message."

"A 'hex message?'" Red furrowed her brow as the flames flickered before them, contained within the circle of salt. "I've heard of chain letters cursing folks, but this is just plain rude! Who would do such a thing?!"

"My mom."

"Oh," Red's tail twitched. It was a touchy subject they never discussed, mainly because Rikki avoided any conversation regarding family relations—especially if they were about her mother.

When the purple flames disappeared—embers and all—a scorch mark was left behind; Rikki buffed it out with the sleeve of her hoodie. Now that the letter was 'cleansed,' she sliced open the side of the envelope with her claw and emptied a folded piece of parchment into her hand.

The apartment fell silent as Rikki read the letter. Red knew better than to pry, even if the suspense kept her at the edge of her seat.

"Mom wants me to come home—for a visit, not to stay," Rikki grimaced, "She wants to 'talk.'"

"When?" Red asked while Rikki calmly tore the letter into tiny squares.

"A-sap," Rikki brushed the bits of paper into her palm and stuffed them inside the pouch on her hoodie. She went over to the tiny coat closet by the front door and retrieved an old backpack that would suffice as an overnight bag.

"W-wait, you're leaving now?" Red pushed back her chair. Her stomach twisted, and a feeling of dread penetrated her bones. She had no idea where the influx of anxiety came from, but it was enough to get her fur to stand on end.

Rikki shrugged, "I can't keep the lady waiting."

"What about work?"

"I'll tell Clem somethin' came up. Besides, that's what PTOs are for..."

"Is everything alright?" Red's ears flattened, perturbed. "You're not in trouble, are you?" Why would she think Rikki was in trouble? Maybe Rikki's mother always communicated via hex messages. Perhaps that was just how yūrei's spoke to one another; a cultural thing.

Rikki didn't answer. She quietly stuffed her toiletries into a plastic baggie, then went into her bedroom to gather a change of clothes. The silence between them only told Red that she was right to fret about her roomie's well-being.

"… It's nothing, Red," Rikki answered, slipping her headphones around the back of her neck. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."

Red's unconvinced by the string of reassurance; they sound a lot like empty promises, "Rikki…."

"Red, I'll be fine," Rikki crammed her chargers and electronics into the small pocket of her backpack. "I should be back sometime soon-ish. We'll order sushi and throw ourselves a little party, ok?"

"… okay," Red stepped out of Rikki's way, reluctantly letting the mongoose pass by. She escorted Rikki to the elevator down the hall and playfully elbowed her in the arm, "Call me if you need back-up, yeah?"

"Whatever floats your goat, space ace," Rikki snorted as she waited for the elevator's arrival. She slung her bulky backpack over her shoulder, "And speaking of goats, I better call Clem…."

Rikki forced a smile as the elevator doors slowly closed. Red saw past the mongoose's attempt at feigning confidence; the distant, fearful look in her eyes gave her away. Red suppressed the urge to summon the elevator and prevent Rikki from leaving.

Red told herself that it was all in her head, the idea that nothing good would come from Rikki's trip to her mother's. She knew Rikki could take care of herself.

Rikki will be back before you know it, Red thought to herself. It'll be alright. I'm sure her mother's a lovely person...

__________

Rikki didn't come home the next day. Or the following day. Or the day after that. When Red tried reaching Rikki on her cell phone, her attempts led her directly to the mongoose's inbox.

Not even Clem heard from Rikki, although he was instructed to 'use her sick days if she ran out of PTO.'

Red kept herself busy with menial chores to steel her nerves and stop her imagination from crafting worst-case scenarios. When she wasn't cleaning the apartment, the yōkai volunteered at the community theater, ran errands, and hunted for Scor-Pion with Jupiter Jim.

"Why so blue, Red?" Jupiter Jim asked during one of their stakeouts atop the eccentric actor's apartment building. "You mustn't let Scor-Pion get you down. The elusive fiend will show himself soon enough!"

"It's not that," Red sighed. "It's my roomie/friend! She's been gone for almost a week, and I've lost all forms of direct communication with her! And even if I wanted to go searching for her, I have no idea where she could be!"

"Hm, that is quite the predicament. I wouldn't be surprised if Scor-Pion is behind your friend's mysterious disappearance!"

"I doubt it…," Red peered through her binoculars and scanned the city's skyline, hoping to spy Rikki. She perked up when she felt Jupiter Jim's hand clasp onto her shoulder, "Sir?"

"Have faith in your friend," Jupiter Jim consoled. "The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later. We must welcome the weary when they return, but to do so, it's crucial to keep our spirits high."

Red smiled weakly at the profound piece of wisdom, "Thank you, Sir."

The mood was ruined when Jupiter Jim mistook an old lady with a green skin complexion as Scor-Pion. Fortunately, Red's prehensile tail was strong enough to hold the space adventure back from ambushing the strange senior citizen.

If only Red used her tail to keep Rikki from leaving...

_____________

It was Wednesday night. Red had finished washing the dishes and was now standing at the kitchen counter, prepping vegetables for dinner. She was so preoccupied with peeling potatoes that she failed to notice someone unlocking the front door.

And that someone was Rikki.

"Hey, I'm back," Rikki announced as she closed the door behind her.

"Rikki!" Red exclaimed, dropping the potato peeler and spud into the sink. She ran over to Rikki and hugged her tightly, "Leaping light-years, you have no idea how worried I was! You didn't call or text, and Clem said—"

Red froze. Her eyes darted from Rikki's black eye to the bruise on her cheek. Several small knicks speckled the side of her brow. They were scabs now, but the implication that Rikki had bled was still there.

So this was the kind of relationship Rikki had with her mother: a bad one.

Rikki isn't put off by the horrified look on Red's face, "Honestly? It's not as bad as it looks. In fact, I think things went better than I expected." She tried maintaining a modest tone, but it faltered.

I knew I shouldn't have let you go, Red frowned. Hesitantly, she tried reaching up to touch the bruise on Rikki's cheek.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Rikki said as she casually ducked away from Red's hand. "I had to take the long way back, and I'm kinda gross. Do you need the bathroom?"

"N-No, you go ahead. I'm making stew for dinner. Would you like some?"

"Naaah. I'm not that hungry…."

Red nodded, "Copy that." She watched Rikki's bushy tail drag across the floorboards on her way towards the bathroom.

The universe is a vast place, yet we all find our way home sooner or later…

"Hey, Rikki?"

"Hmm?"

"Welcome home…"

It's such a warm, simple greeting, yet it meant so much to Rikki. She got as far as the hallway before she grabbed onto the wall for support. She sank to the floor and curled in on herself, trembling.

In a split-second, Red's beside her. She held Rikki close, protecting her by wrapping her striped tail around her body. She never heard Rikki cry before; the mongoose is quiet with the occasional whimper that breaks Red's heart.

Red held her tighter, "… We can still order sushi if you want…."

Rikki sniffled, "Yeah, I-I'd like that."

"Heh heh, good! Honestly, I was getting tired of peeling all those potatoes!"

_____________________

Stacks of aluminum take-out containers are left on the kitchen table with empty plastic cups of soy sauce. They make good on their promise to throw themselves a party. So Red and Rikki dragged their mattresses out from their bedrooms and constructed a blanket fort around them.

Once their nightly bathroom rituals are completed, they pile into their fort. Red noticed a few more bruises on Rikki's forearms that were previously hidden by the mongoose's hoodie.

"Clem said he'd give me the day off tomorrow," Rikki said as she slid her phone underneath her pillow. "I told him I had a rough trip. He understands."

"Aw, that's nice of him," Red yawned as she rolled onto her side, facing Rikki. Goodness gracious, who would've thought all this worrying could be so exhausting...

"Hey, Red?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," apologized Rikki, her voice hoarse. She stared up at the canopy of mismatched blankets and bedsheets, "I'm sorry I didn't keep you in the loop..."

"Don't worry about it, Rik," Red scooched over towards Rikki, "I understand."

They nestled against each other, their tails entwined--another layer of comfort. Red felt obligated to ensure Rikki fell asleep and didn't stay awake to think about whatever cruelties she endured at her mother's. Only when Red was sure Rikki was fast asleep did she finally allow her eyelids to shutter.

#rottmnt oc #Rikki #rottmnt Red Fox #Jupiter Jim #rottmnt Clem #(not a shipping fic! they are just roomies who care about each other I swear to pizza supreme in the sky)#tmngoosepost #tmngoosefic

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selene-tarot · 2 years

Text

So y'all, I've been thinking of this for these past 2 weeks about doing kpop readings and dealing with kpop in general. Last year I began getting into kpop(not completely but y'know checking it out). I'm a little perturbed about some of the racism and colorism that happens in kpop? I've expessed my discontement, but with that I've also been second guessing some of the readings I've been doing and in the back of my head thinking 'do some of these idols I read on hold the same views?' They most likely do, but I'm a little conflicted because I do listen to a bit of the music and by that I mean I have about a solid 5-7 songs in my spotify playlist🤣 and haven't really bought any merch/albums from these groups and will continue to never buy any. I know majority of my followers do enjoy content I give, and I do too at times, solely on the fact that I like being nosey😭😭.

I thank y'all everyday for supporting me but I am really glad that I'm only just casual listener and not full on dedicated to this stuff because I've would've been SALTY. I do want to take my followers into consideration with deciding the future of this blog so I'm thinking of at least 2-3 things that I could revamp this blog into.

- scrap all of my readings every idol I did and focus solely on celebrities here in america(which is whole other subject that I don't wanna get into in this post)

- Continue doing reading for idols, even the one I said I wouldn't do(eye-twitches) because it would be very hypocritical of me to be selective about which ones I do when it's possible a lot of these idols have committed something like this whether publicly or behind the scenes so if I bother doing one then I'd just have to do all(eye-twitches). Speaking of which I think I done already did readings for some of these people that I thought were fine but turns out has said something colorist/racist/did CA, I just didn't find out until later. My feelings and stance on these idols are still the same though and that will never change. With that being said I would be trying for more celebrity readings to balance things out and give more variety.

- Scrap literally everything and focus solely on doing ask games and personal readings for everyone?

If you ever want to talk to me about this I'm open to your thoughts and opinions(and prayers).

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purple-dahlias · 3 years

Note

“Want some company?” for raindrops and coffee shops au? (only if you want to obviously!)

Heyy!! So this actually turned into part 3 of the whole raindrops and coffee shops au. The prompt you sent kind of ended up fitting with the idea I had planned for this part, so I hope you don't mind that <3

Once again, the rain pours down on the Windy City, making Sarah think they should probably just rename it the rainy city, because that’s what it seems to be doing most of the time, anyway. It’s been practically relentless for the past week or so, Sarah observes, looking away from her laptop screen and glancing out of the partially fogged-up window into the world outside. She’s sat at her favourite corner table in Callie’s, laptop open in front of her, trying to get through the multitudes of new reading material she now found she had since starting her psychiatry residency, a coffee and one of those heavenly cinnamon rolls keeping her company. Her shift doesn’t start for another two hours, so she has some time.

Sarah had never really considered psychiatry prior to Dr Charles offering her the residency post, and she’s finding that there’s such a lot to learn. It’s not a complaint though, because what’s even more surprising is that it is interesting. What had first started out as something she had treated as just being an opening back into the career she had all but quit had transformed into something she has been enjoying. It’s different.

It’s just as she’s about to go up to the counter for a refill though, that her phone vibrates on the table beside her. It’s her mother.

Won’t be able to make it this weekend. Tied up with a case.

Typical. But then again, what had she expected? If her mother hadn’t even been able to come down for her graduation, why on Earth would she stick to her plans for a weekend visit? Sarah doesn’t even know why she got her hopes up at this point. It still stung though, especially when she had cancelled the last three times too.

She nudges her phone away from her. Suddenly she doesn’t feel like that refill anymore.

She’s so wrapped up in her thoughts that she barely registers the woman standing before her until she’s there speaking to her, and even then, she sounds so far off.

“Dr Reese, hi. Night shift as well I presume?” Ava smiles, drink in hand.

It takes a beat for Sarah to realise she is in fact, addressing her. It’s still so new to her, being addressed as doctor.

“Uh, yeah,” Sarah manages, still caught off guard, but hoping Ava doesn’t think she’s some sort of idiot.

“Want some company?” The cardiothoracic fellow asks, to Sarah’s utter confusion. She can’t quite understand why someone like Dr Bekker would seem so determined to get to know her. She’s just a resident, after all.

“O-oh, sure,” Sarah nods, gesturing to the seat opposite, because she could use a distraction right about now. “And it’s Sarah, by the way,” the brunette adds, ducking her head a little as she watches Ava make herself comfortable.

“What’re you working on?” Ava asks, motioning to Sarah’s laptop.

“Oh, just trying to stay on top of things. I think I’m a bit out of my depth in psychiatry— not that I’m not enjoying it— but I just don’t want to fall behind. The other residents aren’t too happy with me being on the program. Guess they think I only got the spot because of Dr Charles, which is true in a way but…” Sarah trails off, realising she had been rambling and had ended up saying much more than she had meant to.

“I’m sure you’re doing great,” Ava reassures, not perturbed in the least. “And who cares what the other residents think. If they were my residents, well, let’s just say they probably wouldn’t be for long. But in any case,” she continues, softer now, “Dr Charles wouldn’t have taken you on if he thought you wouldn’t be a good asset. And I may have only been around a few weeks, but if I’ve already heard high praise about you from others, I can tell you’re going to make a great doctor.”

Sarah considers Ava’s words, taken aback, a rosy blush forming across her face which she knows is much more visible than she’d like it to be. She wishes now she had got that refill, because it would at least have meant there would be something to distract herself with right about now.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, finally meeting Ava’s eyes.

“Don’t mention it,” comes the response with a shrug as Sarah’s phone pings.

Picking it up, Sarah sees it’s another message from her mother. Three words this time.

Maybe next weekend?

Angered, Sarah switches the phone off, placing it faced down on the table, a little more forcefully than she had intended.

“I take it that was not Dr Charles paging you,” Ava says lightly, carefully, as she takes a sip of her coffee.

Sarah shakes her head no. She doesn’t feel like unloading that onto Ava right now. Especially since they barely knew each other. Ava, however is good enough not to pursue the topic and masterfully manages to change the subject.

“So, Sarah, since it seems we keep bumping into each other like this here, how about we make a plan, instead?”

“Oh, sure,” Sarah nods enthusiastically.

“Great,” Ava continues, giving Sarah one of her dazzling smiles, something that Sarah hadn’t realised she’d missed seeing.

(In fact, she’s so caught up in studying Ava’s face that she almost fails to hear the rest of what she is saying. Though luckily, Ava doesn’t seem to notice)

“How about lunch on Saturday? There’s this little Italian place I’ve been wanting to try out.”

“It sounds perfect,” smiles Sarah, and though she may not like it, maybe her mum not coming this weekend is a blessing in disguise.

“I’ll give you my number so I can send you all the details,” Ava tells Sarah practically.

“Oh, right,” Sarah agrees, opening up her contacts and handing over her phone for Ava to put her number into while Ava hands Sarah hers.

Maybe this day wasn’t so bad after all.

#raindropsandcoffeeshops!au #my aus #sarah reese #ava bekker #chicago med #asks #buiscitsandbooks #i hope this is okay!

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krispy-dream · 3 years

Text

Twice Forgotten, Always Remembered

Title: Twice Forgotten, Always Remembered

Relationships: Tubbo & Ranboo (platonic)

Words: 7,202

Rating: G or T? It's a little spooky and there's a suggestive joke here and there but it's pretty SFW. No strong language.

No strong angst, it's mostly boys bein boys!!

Read on Ao3 (CLICK THE SOURCE LINK!!) or click Read More!

Ranboo swallows thickly as he witnesses a massive spruce branch crash through the dense layer of ice coating a nearby lake, his restless gaze darting across the terrain while the whistling wind hammers incessantly against his eardrums. Violent white flurries conceal much of the world from sight, and Ranboo's eyes lock onto anything and everything he can discern against the blizzard. He is disquieted by a gentle tap on his elbow, focus snapping towards the source at honed speeds. The muscles around his shoulders and neck slack momentarily when he catches sight of Tubbo, both of them dodging eye contact while Tubbo takes a step back to give the startled half-enderman some room to breathe before piping up.

"Do you plan to spend your whole visit looking out the window?" Tubbo's voice seems louder than it needs to be. "We'll be stuck inside here for a while, you may as well enjoy yourself."

A short huff passes Ranboo's lips before he crosses his arms, gloved fingers thrumming against himself in a furtive attempt to relax his nerves. "If your idea of enjoying myself is anything like last time, I think I'll pass." Tubbo's mouth turns downwards at the sentiment, a hand raising to his chin in contemplation.

"Ranboo. We're friends, right?" Ranboo's mouth goes agape for a moment before shutting tight, his brows knitting together in thought. Tubbo takes this as a cue to keep going. "I consider you a friend, you know. I wouldn't make you uncomfortable on purpose." Tubbo steps closer to Ranboo, his gaze searching the humanoid boy's face in an attempt to discern his feelings. "Do you never get curious of the differences between us, Ranboo? Like, biologically?" Ranboo's brow peaks at this one, skeptical eyes peering down at Tubbo.

"I'm not sure I like where this is going," Ranboo warns, and Tubbo splutters before tightly shutting his eyes and pointing both fingers at them.

"Like this, you see?" Tubbo opens his eyes again in time to see Ranboo scrunching his nose at the sight. "You don't have eyelids, why is that?"

Ranboo tilts his head, an incredulous expression painting his features. "I wasn't born with any." He almost stops there, but Tubbo's disappointed pout breaks him just enough to add "My eyes don't need moisture like yours do."

"What about protecting them from the elements?" Ranboo shrugs.

"I just don't have them, Tubbo. I'm not a biologist."

"Wait - don't you cry? And pee? So you have water in your body, right?" Tubbo jabs Ranboo in the arm while his eyes wander his body up and down. "That must suck! How are you not, like, corroding from the inside out?"

"I'd like to go back to watching the storm," Ranboo announces, once again turning towards the window.

"No, wait! I'm sorry, I just... I don't know, I guess I think you're interesting, in a cool way, you know?" Tubbo watches in dismay as Ranboo tenses his jaw, making a point to keep his eyes fixated away from Tubbo. "You could ask me any questions about my body if you want! I'd be happy to share..." Tubbo bites his lip, cringing at his own wording. "That sounds kind of weird, doesn't it? Not that I would mind if you asked something weird! As long as it's fair, like an 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours' kinda thing." Tubbo takes note of how Ranboo's lip twitches up in amusement when he says this and rakes his mind for something that would encourage words. "You know, when I was a kid I was absolutely terrified of endermen. But now I think they're kinda cute, so thanks for that."

This works. "Pff. 'When I was a kid'? You're still a kid." Tubbo's triumphant smile falters almost immediately as he processes the words that fall from Ranboo's mouth.

"Hey, I'm older than you! And you know what I meant!"

Ranboo shakes his head, turning away from the window to examine his cluttered indoor surroundings. "What building is this, anyway? I don't remember it being here last time I came over." Tubbo wants to call him out for changing the subject so abruptly but reckons it's safer if he doesn't press on the matter - at least Ranboo wants to talk now. The blizzard started so suddenly, the two of them had run into the nearest building that appeared somewhat safe. It happened to be one that Ranboo had never been inside before, as well as one that made Tubbo a little... nervous.

"It was always here - in fact, it was abandoned long before I even settled. But it was just a rundown shack, and now I've fixed it up a bit. Oh!" Tubbo slaps a fist into his open palm, smiling up at Ranboo with bright, mischievous eyes. "I actually never finished exploring the cellar. It's probably safer down there anyway, would you like to check it out?"

Ranboo hums, scanning the floor of the room until he catches sight of an awkwardly placed carpet. "Is that it?" He doesn't wait for a response, kneeling over the beige square and allowing his hand to hover over it. He's got no clue how clean it is, but his hands are tucked away inside a pair of gloves that make him feel comfortable enough to touch it regardless. Unsurprisingly, moving the carpet off to the side reveals an old, cracked trapdoor that Tubbo has evidently yet to replace.

"I suppose I didn't hide it all that well," Tubbo joins Ranboo in kneeling over the piece of spruce wood that would likely be more useful to them as kindling. "I've taken a peek, but... well, it's a bit scary, if I'm honest."

Tubbo's gaze locks on the trapdoor, his calloused fingers dancing across the splintery wood only to stop at the edge he's meant to lift at. He taps gently on it, picking at the corner with his thumb in a fashion that Ranboo easily detects as stalling. Ranboo doesn't interfere, taking this as an opportunity to observe Tubbo's mannerisms. Ranboo isn't one to be particularly curious about the nuances of any species, but Tubbo has always been somewhat perplexing on an individual level. Like his tendency to, seemingly unintentionally, say things with vastly inappropriate connotations - or the way he'll cower at the smallest threat while having no quarrels with taking out a hoard of zombies on a particularly rough venture. The way he can construct an entire town overnight and still have the energy for... unethical experimentation. He really is a piece of work - and he's somebody that Ranboo enjoys spending time with, despite the occasional conflicts of interest.

And right now he's nervous to go into his own cellar. "What's down there?" Ranboo takes note of the way Tubbo jumps at the sound of his voice, fingers gripping the trapdoor tightly to ground himself.

"Well, not much." Tubbo lifts the trapdoor carefully, a creaking sound echoing down into the dark shoot it uncovers. There's enough light at the bottom for them to see that it isn't incredibly deep and that the room at the bottom is walled with cracked stone bricks. "I may have left a lantern down there last time because I didn't want to turn my back on the darkness... you know how that is, right Ranboo?"

Instead of agreeing, Ranboo chuckles. He truly does get it, but when the world is as dangerous as it is, a dark abandoned cellar can easily be the least of someone's worries. "Do you want me to go down first?" Tubbo appears to seriously consider Ranboo's offer before a look of determination crosses his face and he climbs in without a word. "I didn't mean for that to be a challenge or anything," Ranboo calls down after him, pouting and following suit when he doesn't receive a response.

The ceiling of the room they climb down into is significantly lower than the ground floor - some kind of perfect middle ground that forces Ranboo to hunch over while simultaneously allowing Tubbo to stand up perfectly straight with more than enough breathing room. So... about 180cm. A lantern lies on its side in the middle of the room, casting dark shadows into the corners. Despite being forcibly hunched over, the room isn't too uncomfortable or creepy to Ranboo at all - that is, until he notices the perturbed expression Tubbo is aiming at the lantern. "Is there a problem?" Tubbo is nodding before the question has entirely left Ranboo's mouth, panicked eyes scanning their surroundings as if the walls are whispering to him. It's just a barren stone room with a stained white cot and an ominous spruce door on the far wall.

"This isn't where I left the lantern." Shadows dance across the room as Tubbo carefully lifts the once-forgotten lantern off the floor, aiming it up at Ranboo so that he could see the half-enderman's face clearly despite the darkness. Ranboo instinctively turns his head away - a passing thought informs Tubbo that Ranboo's eyes may have high light sensitivity when compared to a human's, but he manages to avoid acknowledging this for now. "I had it hung on that hook over there," Tubbo points towards the door with the same hand holding his lantern, lighting up the area enough to reveal a thin, cobweb-coated chain hanging near the spruce door. A rusted hook is attached at the bottom of the chain, and some disturbing thoughts of what that may have been used for in the past fill both boys' minds.

Ranboo takes a cautious step past Tubbo, one of his hands fidgeting with the hem of his oversized suit jacket as he releases a shaky breath. "It must have fallen." He may or may not believe his own words. The two lock eyes for once and Tubbo finds that he has to fight an urge to freeze under such a pointed gaze. Underneath it, however, he can tell Ranboo is just as frightened as himself.

"It couldn't have. Not unless someone was down here." Tubbo's eyes snap over to fixate on the door and his voice quiets as though he's afraid of being overheard - "I haven't opened that yet... too scary."

A few beats of silence pass between the boys before Ranboo takes another step towards the door, his hand gripping the handle with all the courage he can muster. The door rattles against his touch and something behind it stirs, scuttling away before he's even cracked it ajar. Tubbo shouts, the lantern slipping from his grip and clattering to the floor while he dashes to comfort himself by burying his face in Ranboo's back, allowing his arms to coil around him.

It's silent, both of them failing to move after the commotion passes.

Ranboo is the first to speak up. "Maybe I should hold the lantern."

A brief debate is settled with Ranboo doing exactly that, much to Tubbo's initial dismay. Ranboo reminds him that they're both well equipped to handle anything they come across down here, but it's difficult to hold onto that thought when your environment is so incredibly unwelcoming. Once they've eventually opened the spruce door they're met with a narrow, unfinished tunnel through dirt and stone. "Why would a door lead to this?" Tubbo turns up his nose, glaring into the darkness with disdain. "I expected a hall."

"Maybe there used to be one here," Ranboo suggests, ducking into the cramped tunnel. Sometimes he's jealous of shorter folk. Not often, but sometimes.

"It's a pretty tight fit, huh?" Tubbo leans away from the entrance, wringing his hands together. "Maybe I should just wait for you - AAH-!" A crash reverberates from outside the cellar and Tubbo slips into the tunnel after Ranboo, slamming the door shut behind him. "Never mind! Start walking, Ranboo, I'm right behind you!" Ranboo can't help the smile he cracks when Tubbo reacts to what he assumes is just another tree branch falling to the blizzard outside, but he saves the teasing for later. For now, they've got a bit of spelunking to do.

The tunnel is suspiciously well worn, not nearly as difficult to traverse as it first appeared to be. The end splits into two branches, and Tubbo's heart sinks when he realizes that he can just barely make out even more branches at the ends of them. "Are you thinking the same as me, big man?"

"Maybe..." Ranboo mumbles, flinching at a distant crunching sound. "I'm thinking we're not alone. You?"

"I think this is a whole tunnel system," Tubbo gulps, his hand unconsciously wandering to grip the base of Ranboo's jacket.

A low-pitched hissing sound echoes down the tunnels from the right, and as soon as a shadowed figure becomes visible the lantern is once again on the floor, this time extinguishing the light inside. The two boys make a dash for the door, taking turns shoving each other in an attempt to make it out safely in the pitch darkness. Tubbo trips on his way out, adrenaline continuing to escalate until he hears Ranboo shut the door securely behind them. "You're okay," Ranboo reassures between breaths, and while Tubbo understands that this is likely intended as self-reassurance, he tries his best to be comforted by it as well.

The light coming down from the trapdoor isn't enough for Tubbo to see anything in the room other than Ranboo's eyes, but Ranboo appears to have little to no issue seeing while he helps Tubbo back onto his feet. Tubbo has a difficult time restraining himself this time. "Can endermen see in the dark?"

Ranboo freezes briefly before letting go of Tubbo's arms, an exasperated chuckle escaping him. "Even after all that, you're still thinking about our biological differences?"

"Well I can't SEE anything right now, and you're just calm!"

"What? You're looking right at me!"

"Your eyes are GLOWING, Ranboo!!"

"Tubbo, I don't mean to alarm you, but there's something living under your house."

"I GOT THAT, THANK YOU."

Chapter 2 - Spelunking 2: Electric Boogaloo

It turns out Ranboo's eyes are capable of seeing much more acutely in low lighting than Tubbo's - he can easily discern colors in the dark and had been wholly unaware that humans grappled with such menial tasks.

"That might explain why some people describe desaturated colors as 'darker'." Ranboo dips his head, swaying back in his seat on Tubbo's cot. "That reveals a lot, actually. I always thought of 'night vision' potions as a pretty bizarre niche, but it turns out that my eyes are just better."

"We don't know that!" Tubbo crosses his arms, stirring against the wall in his spot on the floor. "There might be something our eyes can do that yours can't, right?"

Ranboo takes a second to ponder this, working a gloved finger along his cheekbone and up the rim of his eye socket in quiet contemplation. "You can shut them, I guess." He peers at Tubbo, his sights resting thoughtfully along the outer edges of Tubbo's eyes that appear so different from his own. "It looks very strange to me, but it seems useful."

"Do eyelids unsettle you?" Tubbo grimaces, peeling his eyes open with his fingers. "Because to us you look very wide-eyed all the time, it can be creepy. Especially when you're asleep."

"I wouldn't say it's unsettling," Ranboo says, making a snap decision to brush off Tubbo's comment about him being creepy. "Most species I run into have them, so I'm used to seeing them. It's just strange looking when I focus on it, that's all."

"I suppose I could get used to the lack of them if we hung out more." Tubbo grins. "I enjoy your company, I hope you know that." A peculiar warmth washes over Ranboo when Tubbo expresses this. "I know I get on your nerves sometimes, but I really don't mean to. I promise."

Ranboo reflects on Tubbo's heartfelt claim before a sneaky suspicion catches up to him. "You have another weird enderman biology question, don't you?"

"Well!" Tubbo raises his arms dramatically. "What are ender pearls, exactly? You would know!"

"Huh??" Ranboo twists over onto his stomach, inclining off the cot to scrutinize Tubbo's demeanor. "You're serious?" Every second Ranboo spends observing Tubbo's expression, the more it clouds over with humiliation. He sincerely doesn't know what an ender pearl is.

"I know that people get them from endermen!" Tubbo shields his face with his hands, his voice becoming quiet. "And I know you can use them to teleport, but what part of the enderman is it?" He peeps out between his fingers to check if Ranboo is still judging him.

As an act of charity, Ranboo decides to attempt an explanation. They lock eyes and Ranboo conceals his red one, breathing deeply to pacify the nerves that spike in response to his instinctual enderman brain trying to persuade him that Tubbo is going to strike him. "I have one here." Ranboo points at his green eye with the same hand cloaking his red one, his other arm preoccupied with supporting his position on Tubbo's cot.

Tubbo's eyelids flutter in bewilderment before he drops his hands from his face, using them to wriggle closer to Ranboo. "Your eye?" Tubbo's face grows painfully close to Ranboo's, but he doesn't appear to take notice of this, much less the sharp gasp Ranboo releases in reaction to their unexpected proximity. "Are you saying people pull the eyes out of endermen? That's messed up!" Tubbo's exclamation is timed flawlessly with a resounding crash from the blizzard outside, the strong winds startling Ranboo into hastily pulling his hand from his face and using it to shove Tubbo's away from him. He takes a deep breath, dismissing the way Tubbo topples over.

"Teleportation is all in the eye. At least for a full enderman, it is. They teleport where they're looking." Tubbo dramatically flails on the floor before sitting back up, grumbling softly to himself. "I think that most endermen don't realize humans can't teleport, so they feel threatened when you look at them as a challenger." He tilts his head. "But humans kill them for their eyes, so can you blame them?"

Tubbo promptly rams away his gut feeling that Ranboo may very well harbor genuine malice towards humankind for this behavior, and opts to instead propose a simple question. "Why are they a different color?"

Ranboo's face drops. "Because they're not glowing with that purple light anymore." The way he states this makes it sound obvious, yet Tubbo presumes that he's concealing a deeper explanation.

"Your eye is green, though. Do you know why?" Ranboo shakes his head before sitting upright and fidgeting with the hem of his gloves.

"I can't tell you that..." Ranboo likes to think of himself as immoveable - not easily swayed. But even the subtle disheartened glances Tubbo aims at him can break him down little by little, and some days he's especially susceptible to it. So he provides a little bit more. "I can tell you that there was once a point in time where all of them had eyes like this, but nowadays they'd need some repairing to get there."

It's only now that Tubbo is struck by the realization endermen knew their own history and were able to share it with Ranboo - so they must also have goals. Goals, aspirations and plans that Ranboo isn't authorized to share with him or any other human. He has so many questions, but Ranboo has chosen to spend time with humans and help them instead, so maybe he should simply be appreciative of that and savor Ranboo's company while he can. "Ranboo..." Tubbo stands up, dusting himself off. "I think I'm ready to face whatever is in those tunnels." His apprehensive eyes wander Ranboo's frame as he slips out of Tubbo's spare cot. "As long as you're willing to join me?"

Ranboo's lip curls up in amusement while he sizes Tubbo up, slipping off his gloves to reveal thin, clawed fingers that resemble more that of an enderman than a human's. The way he pops his knuckles is much unlike an enderman however, and Tubbo can't help but find it striking how one of his hands is splattered with white blotches that become more abundant around the hem of his sleeve. "Don't worry Tubbo, I'll protect you," Ranboo teases, earning a scowl out of Tubbo while he tousles the shorter teen's hair.

"Thanks, big man (derogatory), but I'll be the one doing the protecting, I think!" Tubbo grabs a worn diamond helmet from his nightstand and haphazardly yanks it over his head, effectively obscuring his vision by pushing hair over his eyes.

"We're armoring up for this?" Ranboo intends to tease Tubbo, but he can't disguise the relief in his tone - he's hardly comfortable taking his armor off inside the safety of this building, but Tubbo had insisted he did so once it became clear the blizzard wouldn't be passing anytime soon.

It takes a while for the both of them to get into all of their armor - perhaps they're stalling, but at least they'll be safer this way. "What if it's friendly?" Ranboo suggests as they kneel over the trapdoor once again, earning an elevated brow and a very pointed look from Tubbo.

"It hissed and chased us down a dark tunnel." Tubbo pauses, his hands resting across the top of the trapdoor. "Wait, could you see it?" Ranboo nods slowly.

"Yeah, a little. It's like, some kind of spider." Tubbo gapes.

"I've killed loads of those! Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

"Well, it's not JUST a spider! It's something different, it's just... spider-like."

Tubbo rolls his eyes. "Well if it looks like a spider, it'll die like a spider. Let's go!" With newfound determination, Tubbo drops down into the cellar once again.

Ranboo is less sure of himself but climbs down into the cramped space shortly after. "Maybe we shouldn't jump straight to killing it, though. What if it has a family?" Tubbo stops at the door, igniting a torch before shifting to look up at Ranboo.

"True," Tubbo starts slowly, humming as he weighs their options. "We'll capture it now, and decide what to do from there."

Ranboo bends towards Tubbo clumsily, his shoulder bumping into the chain hanging from the ceiling hard enough to make it rattle noisily. "And how do you plan to capture it?" He lifts an eyebrow. "No way you're going to overpower it."

"Well, I have... this!" Tubbo pulls out the rope hanging from his belt, presenting it arrogantly for a moment before his smile falters. "Eh, I could use this as well actually." Ranboo accepts the lit torch Tubbo hands over to him and his face shifts from bemusement to shock as Tubbo grabs hold of the chain and tears it hard enough for it to snap off the ceiling, slinging it over his shoulder while wearing an entirely nonchalant mien. "I'm sure we'll figure something out when we run into it."

Ranboo is still gawking when Tubbo swings the old spruce door open and turns to him expectantly, urging Ranboo to find words. "You're not nervous at all?"

"It's just a spider! And you have the light, so go in first please." His sentence ends more timidly than it begins, giving Ranboo the impression that his method of resolution is sheer forced willpower. That should be sufficient though, and Ranboo does his best to replicate this energy when he steps into the tunnel. Full netherite makes him nearly indestructible even when things get the jump on him - he should be perfectly fine! Tubbo clearly has a mental advantage, as he's managed to convince himself that this creature is JUST a spider, whereas Ranboo knows first-hand that it's much more threatening than one.

They don't need to travel far to start hearing muffled scuttling in the distance, but it's impossible to determine where it's coming from. Ranboo startles when he feels something clutch his free hand but eases up when he recognizes it as Tubbo attempting to compose himself. He curls his fingers around Tubbo's, moderately surprised by how rough they feel without his gloves on. They don't feel like the hands of someone who would be nervous in this scenario, but It's not as if Ranboo looks like someone who would be afraid either. Perhaps the two boys aren't so dissimilar.

Ranboo hesitates when his foot comes in contact with something metal resting on the ground, peering down to see the now twice-forgotten lantern extinguished in the darkness. "Ah, whoops," Ranboo feels a tad guilty for leaving it here but knows Tubbo would have done the same. He dismisses the disappointed noise coming from Tubbo's direction when he separates their hands to pick up the lantern, using the torch to reignite it before offering it to Tubbo. "Maybe holding this will help..." Ranboo mutters, and Tubbo handles it appreciatively.

Tubbo gazes at the lantern for a while before inspecting the entrances of both branches in the tunnel. "Should we split up?" This question understandably takes Ranboo off guard.

"Split up?" Ranboo waves the torch at Tubbo, who backs away barely in time to not have his clothes singed. He wants to scold Ranboo for trusting his reflexes too much, but it doesn't appear to be a good time for that. "I think we're good like this, thanks." Tubbo shrugs, turning his nose up away from Ranboo. "Besides, you're the only one with equipment to trap it."

"You're a giant! Just grab it!"

"GRAB IT? No way!"

Their bickering is cut short when the unsettling hiss from earlier returns and Ranboo's immediate reaction is to deliberately extinguish his torch, seemingly to get a better look at the creature that is now peering around the corner of the tunnel they're standing at the mouth of. This action perplexes Tubbo - can Ranboo see BETTER in low lighting? Ugh! Now isn't the time! Tubbo speaks up softly, wary that the creature could possibly rush them at any instant. "Should we wait for it to come to us?"

Ranboo releases the extinguished torch stick and unsheaths his sword, hazy lilac swirls dripping from the enchanted weapon and dissipating into the air as he holds it steady in front of him. "Well, you have the light." Tubbo tenses his jaw, understanding that Ranboo is entrusting him to personally make the first move.

The creature's infinite eyes are scarcely visible to Tubbo, and he's profoundly disturbed by the mass burden weighing on him as it observes him shifting the chain from his shoulder so that he can fasten it to his waistband. He maneuvers the rope from a hook on his belt, swapping it out for the lantern so his hands are free to handle the rope with more precision. "You better back me up," Tubbo mutters, methodically arranging the rope in his hands while his face scrunches up in concentration.

"I'm right behind you." Tubbo takes Ranboo's word as a cue to move, gradually invading the tunnel and squinting in an effort to make out the creature's form. It sounds another warning hiss before thin, glistening black pincers reveal themselves. Tubbo squeaks in alarm but covers it by clearing his throat. It hasn't made any sudden movements, but the more it exposes itself the more Tubbo feels like he needs to retreat.

Ranboo sounds surprisingly calm from behind him. "Careful, that looks venomous." Tubbo juts a lip out, glowering at the creature. He would glare at Ranboo, but he doesn't exactly want to let this entity out of his sights.

"What ARE you?" He doesn't know what he expects from asking this giant arachnid monstrosity questions, but it sure isn't entertained by it. The creature dashes out and it takes every thread of Tubbo's being to hold his ground. It's definitely not... 'just a spider.' He lassoes the pincers without a hitch, but this isn't as much of a hindrance to the creature as he first hoped. "It has a- AH-!" Tubbo barely evades a massive scorpion-like stinger, eyes wide as he observes it wriggling around, lodged into the wall near his torso. He acts on the first thought that comes to his mind, ripping the chain from his waistband and hooking it into the tail - rusty iron splitting through the creature's compacted flesh and evoking a loud, blood-curdling cry.

Tubbo recoils and staggers away from the shriek, his grasp on the chain slipping. He's able to keep hold of the rope, but when the creature succeeds in dislodging its tail from the wall it only becomes more deadly with a dense iron chain swaying from it. It's got six wiry legs, mobility only restricted due to Tubbo's hold on its pincers. He's run out of ideas by the time it's lurching at him again, his reflexes being the only thing that save him when the stinger comes at his face head-on and he manages to free one of his hands to seize its tail at arm's length. He pulls up on the rope while slipping a foot onto what he understands to be the creature's face, another loud hiss filling the tunnel from the hostile beast. "Ranboo! Do something!" Tubbo grinds his teeth, adrenaline working as his sole savior while the creature strives to wrestle its stinger out of his waning grip.

When the tail inevitably slips from Tubbo's hand he truly believes it's over for him, moving to cover his face while his other hand grips the rope impossibly tight for emotional support. His eyes are sealed shut before he hears the chain clattering to the floor, and it takes a few ticks for the implication of that to sink in.

"Ranboo?" Tubbo blinks his eyes open, adapting to the sight manifesting itself in front of him. The creature is still grappling with his grip, but it's manageable - Ranboo has lodged his sword through one of the chain links and into the tunnel floor, restricting the tail's movement almost entirely.

Ranboo's hands shift across the handle of his blade as he kneels down, dangling his head while he takes a deep breath. "Sorry, I... froze a little. I should have helped sooner." Despite the throbbing pace of his heartbeat, Tubbo can only manage a languid sigh of relief.

"You can make up for it by helping me contain this."

Chapter 3 - Guest Room Away From Home

Tubbo allows his body to topple into a half-meter of snow, unphased by the icy winds lashing his nose and cheeks. He hasn't had a proper opportunity to rest for hours, and it's beginning to catch up to him.

Ranboo peers down at him, brushing his once-again gloved hands close to his chest to keep warm. "You don't plan to leave it in there, right?" Ranboo stoops down to gaze into the shed's barred window, sulking when he catches sight of the restrained creature huddled in the corner. "You didn't even give it any food."

"She has water!" Tubbo throws his hands in the air as he sits up, watching Ranboo with an expectant gaze. "And I'm going to find out what she likes to eat once Mr. Manifold gets back from his top-secret mission." Ranboo doesn't trouble himself with asking any questions concerning the top-secret mission, instead choosing to wordlessly take hold of Tubbo's arms and pull him to his feet. "This is a temporary holding space as well, I'll build something more comfortable for her once the weather calms down some more."

"That's fair, the wind is making the cold much harder to bear," Ranboo says, neglecting to let go of Tubbo's arms once he's risen. "And I hate the feeling of snow melting against my skin." Tubbo nods in understanding, taking notice of the subtle shivering he can feel through their hand-to-arm contact.

"I'll fashion you a proper jacket for your next visit," Tubbo grins, tearing his arms out of Ranboo's hold so that he can run his hands across the collar of Ranboo's suit jacket. Ranboo recoils, rigidly stumbling away from the unexpected contact. "Oops," Tubbo chuckles, clutching Ranboo's hand with both of his instead, an action Ranboo doesn't protest. "Let me take your measurements!" Tubbo brings Ranboo's hand up to his chest in a begging movement, gazing up at him with his deep, puppy-like eyes. "Please?"

"You really don't have to do that-"

"PLEASE, Ranboo! Let me take your measurements and make you a luxurious Snowchester jacket, we could be matching!"

Ranboo caves to this request after little resistance, Tubbo eagerly hauling him back into the only building they had cleared a path to through the snow. Ranboo winces while witnessing Tubbo thoughtlessly cast his diamond helmet into a pile of leftover wooden planks, allowing his severely fractured chestplate to clatter against the floorboards. He leaves his legplates and greaves on, to which Ranboo is sincerely thankful he doesn't need to watch Tubbo mishandle more valuable equipment.

"Alright!" Tubbo kneels down to rummage through a spruce chest, drawing out a long, charcoal-marked woolen cloth. "If you don't mind, I need you down to your shirt for this." Ranboo nods, gingerly placing his helmet and chestplate on the armor stand by the door. Tubbo speaks up again, the words forcing Ranboo to momentarily lock up before slowly turning to gawk at the shorter teen.

"What was that?" He asks incredulously, eyebrows shooting up when Tubbo responds by turning a deep red.

"Wait, that sounded really weird - I just meant-"

"Did you just say 'I like it when you undress for me,' or am I beginning to develop severe auditory processing issues?"

"I phrased that VERY poorly!" Tubbo drops the wool cloth and holds up his hands in submission, redness refusing to leave his features from both the cold and mortification.

"Do I even want to know what you meant?"

"Yes!" Tubbo moves to grab Ranboo's jacket sleeve, distressed by the way Ranboo dodges this motion while eyeing him warily. "I just meant that I'm happy you trust me enough to take your armor off!" Tubbo reasons, crossing his arms over his chest and stomping in a manner that has the lantern on his belt rattling against his legplates. "I know you don't feel very safe without it."

"How does 'I appreciate that you feel comfortable enough around me to remove your netherite armor' become 'I like it when you undress for me,' Tubbo?"

"I don't know! I swear I'm not like this on purpose," Tubbo holds his face in his hands, twisting away from the half-enderman that stands in his doorway. "Just take the jacket off. I promise I won't make it weird."

A heavy piece of fabric is draped over Tubbo's head and shoulders, startling him out of his daze. He doesn't expect it to be Ranboo's jacket, but that's exactly what he sees when he pulls it off to inspect it at arm's length. "It's bigger than I thought," he pronounces plainly, and Ranboo suppresses a laugh. Tubbo's eyes snap up to meet Ranboo's "What's funny about that?"

"Nothing," Ranboo lies, clearing his throat to regain his composure. "Just - let's get this over with, I guess."

Tubbo slings the jacket over his shoulder and picks the woolen strip off the floor before swinging to round up the stairs that sat in the corner of the cluttered room. "Right, just come with me."

"Now you're having me join you in your bedroom," Ranboo remarks, an amused smile dancing across his features while Tubbo stumbles ahead of him.

"There are no stools down there, okay?" Tubbo is enthusiastically holding out his measuring cloth when Ranboo enters the bedroom, patting the edge of his cot. "I just need you to sit on the bed so I can reach better."

"You're being so forward," Ranboo teases, and this time Tubbo rolls his eyes.

"Now who's making it weird, big man? I'm trying to do something nice for you!"

"Oh yeah you are."

"Yeah, I am!! Sit on the bed!" He pulls Ranboo by the arm, forcing the enderboy to half-stumble into a sitting position on the edge of his cot, netherite greaves clanking against the hardwood floor as his legs fold uncomfortably in the low seat. "This shouldn't take long," he says, crawling behind Ranboo and spreading the cloth along his broad shoulders.

"Probably not a good idea to sit on the bed with your shoes on like that," Ranboo comments, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Tubbo's focused expression.

It takes a moment for Tubbo to register Ranboo's remark, but he answers readily once it sinks in. "Nobody actually sleeps here." Tubbo compels Ranboo's arm out, measuring the length of his shirt sleeve while murmuring the measurements to himself repeatedly. Ranboo decides not to intervene, knowing that he could scuff the measurements if he distracts Tubbo now.

Once Tubbo has recorded a few numbers on a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, Ranboo pipes up again. "You put a bed in a building nobody sleeps in?"

"Yeah, I suppose you could think of it as a guest bedroom." Tubbo slides out of the cot, dusting off the spot he had been sitting in before Ranboo sprawls out into it, slinging his arms out above him.

"Welp, it's small, but it'll do!" Ranboo laughs, and Tubbo raises a hand to his chin in deliberation.

"Do you want to stay here, by any chance?" Ranboo covers his face with an arm, a lighthearted sigh passing his lips.

"We've been over this. Living in settlements like this doesn't end well for me."

Tubbo huffs, opening his arms. "I'm not asking you to move in, I'm just offering to reserve this guest room for you." He glances at the window, darkness creeping in as the sun sets over the horizon. "And for you to stay the night here, so you don't have to travel until morning."

Ranboo chuckles. "You know what? Sure." He peers up at Tubbo from his position lying in the cot, propping himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of the human boy's welcoming demeanor. "It's not my house though, alright?" Tubbo pumps his fist triumphantly.

"Yeah, it's my house!" Tubbo agrees, whirling on his heel to scuffle down the stairs. "I'm still writing 'Ranboo my Beloved' on the welcome mat, though." Ranboo falls back onto the cot, smiling to himself momentarily before he rolls off to follow Tubbo down to the ground floor.

"You're armoring up again?" Ranboo asks, visibly alarming Tubbo while he struggles to tie his chestplate back on.

"Oh, I just have some things I need to take care of before Mr. Manifold returns tonight." He runs a hand over the back of his neck, and Ranboo notices that he's hung his suit jacket over the second armor stand he perpetually fails to make proper use of. "You're free to stay here, make yourself... at home..." Tubbo worries his lip clumsily, forgetting his helmet abandoned on the floor when he swings open the front door. The lantern on his hip illuminates the front porch, alerting Ranboo to how quickly the daylight is slipping away. "Or you can wander around a bit if that's your thing. I trust you not to go into any restricted areas." Tubbo simpers sweetly, securing the door behind him before Ranboo has an opportunity to react.

"What an odd little man," Ranboo notes, his brow furrowing at the closed door. He doesn't sleep very well that night.

Energetic knocking rouses Ranboo from a night of light sleep, his heart racing thanks to a dream that he can scarcely recall coupled with his foreign surroundings - an uncomfortably small cot in a confined bedroom, the window on the far wall being the only sign he's above ground. "Ranboo!" Tubbo calls, stifled by the walls that separate them. Ranboo's lips part to welcome a jittery breath as the memories fall into place, his eyes darting to meet the staircase he wouldn't have known to look for a minute ago.

"Ranboo, my beloved! Are you up - oh!" Tubbo's eyes brighten when Ranboo opens the door for him, a broad smile gracing his lips. "Good morning, sunshine!" Ranboo huffs, failing to contain the smile he catches from Tubbo's infectious attitude.

"Good morning Tubbo." Ranboo can't help notice how Tubbo is underdressed for the weather, his armor and vest missing from his usual Snowchester attire. "Aren't you cold?" Tubbo welcomes himself inside, stretching his arms above his head before he kneels down in front of the furnace.

"I've been shoveling snow all morning, gets the blood pumping. WOO!" Tubbo shakes his hands in front of the furnace, beaming over at Ranboo. "My hands are numb!"

"Well I'm gonna head out before you ask me to help you with that," Ranboo says, seizing his suit jacket from the armor stand and tugging it over his shoulders, fastening the buttons as he speaks. "Thanks for letting me stay overnight, it's been... nice. I enjoy your company. I think."

"Ah wait!" Tubbo scrambles to his feet, pressing his hands out to signal Ranboo to stop. "Don't leave yet, I have something for you!" He slips outside without further notice, leaving Ranboo to halt in bewilderment before he finishes armoring up and waits anxiously for the human boy to return.

It doesn't take long, and this time Tubbo enters the building without knocking. A perplexed look crosses Ranboo's features as he peers at Tubbo, who now stands empty-handed in front of him. "So... we haven't finished that jacket I promised just yet, but I, uh," Tubbo chuckles restlessly, his fingers tugging loosely at his collar. "You remember the cellar, right? And the creature we captured together?"

Ranboo needs to think on that for a moment but can recall it well enough. "Yeah, and then we spent hours wrangling it into a holding cell." Ranboo inclines towards Tubbo skeptically. "I don't... want the animal, Tubbo."

Tubbo squints, compressing his lips together in an attempt to stop a laugh from escaping. "I wasn't going to pawn her off to you, don't worry," Tubbo reassures, glancing down at the lantern secured to his belt. That wasn't there when he came in earlier, was it? "I wanted to thank you for helping me with that, it would've been a lot more difficult without you." His hands travel down to the lantern, carefully unfastening it from his belt and holding it up between the two of them with both hands. "The one who holds this light makes the first move... In combat, I mean. That's a signal we decided on yesterday, and it's something only the two of us would understand."

"You're... giving me a lantern?" Ranboo asks, accepting it from Tubbo and holding it up to get a closer look.

"Think of it as a memento of sorts." Tubbo rocks back on his heels, his gaze focused on Ranboo as the taller boy gives him a slow nod.

Despite everything, Ranboo trusts himself to remember what this lantern means. A memento of his bond with Tubbo, and a way to convey an idea between the two of them that nobody else will understand.

The next time Ranboo sees a lantern lying forgotten on a cave floor, he thinks of Tubbo. Even though, at that moment, he can't quite recall why.

#dream smp fanfiction #tubbo fanfic #ranboo fanfic #snowchester #dsmp fic #krispysfics #long post #fanfiction #dream smp #I've never posted fics to tumblr forgive me if I did this incorrectly #I really cobbled this together too it's not my best work but I hope someone likes it

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zertzertzhang · 4 years

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Stand and Deliver: My Life Turned Upside Down

A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr, so please bear with me! I am usually active on FFNet and AO3, but since this fandom is basically nonexistent except for here, I thought maybe I could post my works for this movie here. The story is a fanfic based on the 1988 movie ‘Stand and Deliver’ starring Edward James Olmos, and taking a deeper look into the lives of the impoverished students in East LA.

Eventual Angel/OC, and warnings of racial slurs with some physical violence.

Chapter One: Hellhole

The divorce shattered the Yang family to pieces. Vianne was no stranger to her mother’s scorn for her father, even at a young age. There were countless nights of screaming from Mrs. Yang, coupled with the frustrated curses her father threw in return. At one point, she was sure she heard plates crashing against the walls, but by the time she pumped up the courage to go check the next day, everything had been neatly restored. It was like the fight never took place.

Vianne was not stupid; the traces of her parent’s clashing were found in their silence. It was the harsh clatter of silverware against the bowls during dinner which reminded her that despite the calm nature of the family evenings, rage was just seconds from spilling onto the streets. Their house had just enough bearings to keep authorities from pounding the door on a weekly basis.

There wasn’t much left to solidify the hate between the spouses of the Yang household. By the time Vianne’s father suggested giving her a sibling to help bring her mother back, even she knew that it was a futile attempt to play house a little longer.

But to Vianne’s dismay, her mother agreed. Within months, blue paint littered around the spare bedroom in a massive heap, threatening to swallow the couple whole. Vianne didn’t react much when she realized a brother was coming her way, the increased shouting from Mrs. Yang frightened her as the due date neared. Her father would grumble incessantly about his wife’s mood swings and how that was what men got for marrying.

All of that was lost to Vianne; she was too young to comprehend full sentences, much less understand the hidden meaning behind her father’s statement. Maybe her brother would make her mother happy for once. She could envision her father playing with her in the fields as her mother and her brother sat on picnic mats to the side. They would be laughing just like how it used to be. Vianne wouldn’t have to stay awake, pressing her ears against the doors as more kitchenwares were broken. There would finally be peace...

Her mother’s eyes held the warmth of motherhood for no longer than a few seconds before the cold hollow overtook them again.

Peace never came. What happened in its stead was her brother screeching from his crib, all the while as her parents shrieked at one another over changing diapers. It made Vianne’s head split with thunderous agony. She never wanted to yell this badly, to make them just hug each other for once and stop talking. But such thoughts happened in her mind only. And before she knew it, they were back to throwing pots against the wall.

That lasted however long she remembered. Then came the papers, and she soon found herself holding baby Jack in her arms as her aunt ushered her into a stranger’s car. They said they would be taking care of them for a while. It dawned on Vianne that this was her first time meeting her mother’s family. There was no such thing as a happy reunion in this household.

She didn’t get to see her father after that, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to anyway. Not when the last thing she saw him doing was spitting onto her mother’s face as he tried to stop her from stepping out the door. No one knew that Vianne hid under the covers to cry herself to sleep once she settled in her new home.

And thus, Mrs. Yang became Ms. Lin once more. But for legal reasons, Vianne and Jack’s surname stayed. The minor details flew over her head; Vianne didn’t put much care on the subject. In the long run, the privilege to listen to the crickets chirp at night was enough to keep her satisfied.

That’s how things went for a while, with the emotional charge from her mother coming down for once in a long time. It wasn’t a surprise when Ms. Lin began going out all dolled up and pretty. The scent of her Saint Laurent eau de parfum clung to her skin as she whisked past the older Vianne. The girl felt a twist in her gut; she didn’t want to smell the hints of cologne her mother brought back after every weekend. However, she kept her mouth shut.

Ms. Lin didn’t hold back on her monetary needs. Thank god her salary as a lawyer cushioned their lifestyle. Despite being a single parent, her income had left a spacious room for extra spending. A shopping trip once a month was guaranteed, and that was when Vianne saw her mother at her very best. Talkative and cheery, Ms. Lin wasted no time in purchasing the latest trench-coats from Burberry as she gushed over how cute it looked on Vianne.

Something about her giggling mother put her at ease. The punching of the credit card’s number sent a rush of high in her blood, which only increased with Ms. Lin’s blabbering praise of how beautiful she looked in the mirror. She was well-fed and well-clothed; Vianne figured that there had to be a trade off somewhere. Not everything could be given, so she happily accepted the allowance. It was the closest she’d ever get to having her mother smother her in a crushing hug.

School was another topic. No doubt she was expected to do well in it; Vianne was sure her college expenses would be covered as well once she got to it. So she put the worry on that to the side as well. Her social life at school was decent, with her own clique of Asian Americans making up most of her friend group. It was genuinely a decent life for her, and for a moment, she thought this was going to be her forever.

Until it was news to her that her current school was going to be a thing of the past. Ms. Lin had become engaged to one of her former clients. Vianne was near her senior year of high school when her mother broke the news to her.

“Scott has a family of his own,” Ms. Lin explained. “His children are having a difficult time accepting us.”

Vianne lost her appetite and tossed her dinner down the dump. Her brain refused to tell her how to react, so her first response was denial. She wasn’t interested in a second dad or a second family, this was her happy medium. Besides, she still had Jack, so there wasn’t any long-term loneliness. Why was her mother complicating things?! What the hell?

“I don’t see how it’s our problem.” She tried to keep her voice cool, but the hint of frustration leaked nonetheless.

Her mother looked almost ashamed. Almost. “I’ll be moving in with Scott next week, Vianne. It’s to help his children get used to the new family members.”

The pause after the statement didn’t help the rising anxiety within Vianne. Her fingers clenched around the fork, digging the metal utensil into her soft skin so much that it stung. There was a catch to that announcement, she could feel it.

“What about me?” she asked. “What about Jack?”

Ms. Lin sucked in a breath, drumming her fingers on the mahogany table in a frenzy. And from experience, that only meant bad news. “Scott lives in the Bay Area. It’s too far away from Napa for me to come visit constantly if you stay. So I’ve decided to have you move back with your father.”

The world came undone from below and swallowed Vianne whole. Her mind was a blank sheet of paper, with no idea how to respond. It had been a decade of little to no contact with Mr. Yang, and the sudden contact with him was not going to lead to a happy talk over a cup of coffee. This was fucking ridiculous.

“You said you’d never let him see us again.” Her retort sounded irrelevant at worst, and petty at best. Not that this was going to change her mother’s engagement.

And sure enough, it wasn’t. Ms. Lin gave an exasperated sigh and pinched her nose. The shake of her head reminded Vianne of the way she would scold her when she was a child.

“Your father is doing better now. He’s…different,” her mother tried. “He’s simply not living in the best places out there. But that’s ok! You won’t stay there after graduation, and after you go to college, you’ll be coming back to Scott and me over breaks.”

Vianne could hear the blood in her ears bubbling like an overboiled teapot. “I don’t even know Scott that well, mom! How am I supposed to be his new family after you settle in?!”

The matriarch rolled her eyes at the scene, clearly not taking her daughter’s response well. “It’s a work in progress. I’ll make sure to bring them to you every once in a while to let them get comfortable. That’s why I’m moving in first.”

Her reasoning failed to get past Vianne’s anger, spurring her on. “So you’re just gonna dump us in LA with dad so you can live your comfy life?!”

That comment seemed to be the final nail onto the coffin, as Ms. Lin’s frown turned to a scowl in seconds. “I’m not dumping you anywhere, Vianne. It’s only going to be a year, and your allowance is staying the same! So stop being dramatic.”

Her mother’s cold gaze bore into her mind, freezing her in her tracks. It would serve both of them better if she conceded right there. Once her mother came to a decision, she was like an ox in the middle of a fight. There was no arguing out of this situation. The friends she had and the memories she made in Napa were now pipedreams wrapped up in a dusky alley. Her failure to even voice her opinions squeezed her lungs tight with perturbation.

The familiar pounding headache cursed her forehead, making her wince. Vianne had the sudden urge to smash plates just like her mother had done before. But she didn’t need a grounding on top of everything else, so she settled with pulling her lips back into a painful grin.

“What's the name of the school?” She expected her mother to answer that at least. Donning an air of nonchalance, Vianne tried to appear as unbothered as she could. The trembling of her hands were the only markers of betrayal. If Ms. Lin noticed her plight, then she took no interest in it. Her mother reached for a brown packet and tore it open.

A stack of papers slid out of the package, with the name ‘J.A. Garfield High School’ printed in bold fonts in the front page. It was her transfer letter.

Ms. Lin took a sip of her red wine before she continued her trail of thought. “I’ve given them your transcripts and coursework history already. You’ll be admitted in the second semester.”

“You’re really sending me to the ghetto.” Vianne felt the veins in her head pop. Quickly scouring through the papers, she came across her schedule. There was no AP Biology on the list, and there was definitely no AP BC Calculus on it either. In their places was a section marked as ‘Teaching Assistant’. And that was enough to send her ticking with rage.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” This time, she didn’t bother to hide her fury. “Why did they drop my classes?!”

Slamming the files down so hard that the china rattled, the young woman seethed as she stared her mother down. Ms. Lin wasn’t having any of it either, her fingers gripping the wine glass had turned pale with the increased pressure.

“The school doesn’t have AP courses, Vianne. They’re offering full credits for your two AP classes as compensation.”

The words that came out of her mother’s mouth stunned Vianne into silence. Graduation credits were worth nothing to her in college, this had to be some sick joke.

“What about my AP tests next year?” she hammered. “How am I supposed to take the tests without taking the classes?!” Her complaints were like flies buzzing around an agitated human. Ms. Lin simply waved them off without a second glance, as if her worries were nothing but unnecessary trivialities in life.

“You’re smart, sweetheart. You can study for them by yourself.” Her mother threw out the response like it was the obvious solution to her problem. “There’ll be more than enough spare time in your hands to bury yourself in books.”

Vianne quirked a brow. “Why?”

Ms. Lin actually smiled. But behind it were the vestiges of an arrogant smirk threatening to show itself to the surface. “Their coursework is basically non-existent. The catalogs are dated, and the materials are easy enough to be mistaken for a middle schooler’s level. You’ll have no trouble boosting your GPA up and acing your tests.”

If pride was a thing in her family, then it was going out the window. Vianne couldn’t believe her ears, nor could she stomach the sight of the letters. At this level, she might as well turn herself to a thirteen-year-old and go back to primary school. All her hard work was about to go up in flames because of that ghetto school. Hot tears rimmed along her eyes, sending her into a vortex of despair once more.

There wasn’t enough time to say goodbye to her friends; Kimberly’s birthday was in two weeks, and the whole group had a surprise beach trip planned out. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Mountains of projects she had been dedicated to simply poofed into air. Her hands clenched at the sides, doing their best to contain the urge to hit something.

The shifting of bodies alerted her of her mother’s departure from the living room; Ms. Lin was already up the stairs by the time Vianne shook herself back to reality. She looked over to the stove and was struck by the time it displayed on the counter. It was way too late into the early mornings.

“Your flights depart in two days.” The voice of her mother was drifting away into the distance. Their hollow vibrations from the hall sent her stomach dropping to the floor. “You should start packing soon, Vianne.”

That was the end of the conversation. It was made clear with the slam of Ms. Lin’s bedroom door, rattling its hinges. Neither of them were in the state to argue, and she knew it. Standing alone by the dining table, Vianne sniffled. Her nose was unbearably stuffy in addition to the increasing sting in her eyes.

She didn’t catch a wink of sleep that night.

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LAX was the definition of a madhouse. People shouted in all kinds of languages, deafening her ears and making Jack whimper on her side. Vianne held her brother close as she shoved their way through the gates of their section. The crowded mass on top of her migraine was slowly inching her towards a mental breakdown. After hauling off the last of her luggages from baggage claim, she ushered Jack to the main exit of the airport.

She knew she hadn't seen her father’s face in years, and the dreadful thought of not recognizing their only ticket out settled within her gut. Panic palpated in her heart as they came out of the building, with the sea of people not helping in the slightest.

Mr. Yang was next to unrecognizable when Vianne saw the massive sign with her name blaring in red. He looked different, much different than before. But then again, her seven-year-old perspective wasn’t all that trustworthy either. The face of her father hit her like a cold splash of water, and she found herself failing to greet him with the simplest ‘hello’. She merely stared at the balding man, unable to tear her eyes away from the beerbelly and narrowed eyes. Her father was a stranger to her, and it was then she realized that Jack had never even met their father.

Her brother scooted away from Mr. Yang when the man approached them, looking up to her with his teary gaze. Jack looked like he wanted to burst into a wailing fit. It was going to be a long ride back.

Heavy silence filled the car throughout the ride to her new home. Mr. Yang asked about her health and her school life, repeating the same questions he wrote to her weeks ago. Vianne kept the answers simple and precise, nodding and smiling to make it seem like she was engaged.

Jack, on the other hand, fidgeted endlessly in his seat in the back, looking anywhere but the front of the driver’s seat. The introduction between father and son was awkward to say the least. Vianne was just happy that they were now on their way to get the year over with. She clutched the phonebook in her pockets, memorizing all her friends’ numbers. It took her mind off things, if that was a positive note.

There could never be enough distractions for her, especially now that the three of them were stuck in the worst possible position. As if whatever deity in the heavens wanted to lay more unto the cruel joke, Vianne shook from her revere and noticed the selection of houses they were approaching.

Rundown and abandoned were the least of her worries. The neighborhood was like the cardboard cutout from a horror magazine. Desecrated with graffitis and empty beer cans, the streets were littered with grime and dust. It was obvious the town duster wasn’t a frequent worker there. And was that a person sitting on the roof of a car?!

Vianne’s eyes bulged as she squinted at the flailing man on top of a red Chevrolet. Men donned in tall hats paraded the city roads like they owned the place, causing a line of angry drivers honking at the ruckus. The pounding headache intensified at the sight, and she grumbled a string of curses to herself.

“Monterey Park is a lot better,” Mr. Yang spoke out of nowhere. “We’re gonna be away from these dirty shitbags.”

She flinched at the harsh edge of his voice, but didn’t say anything. By the crinkled lines between his brows and the frown on his lips, her father wasn’t in the mood for a good-natured chat. It was better that way, Vianne herself could feel her spirits waning with each mile.

The trio reached a small neighborhood in no time, and to her relief, it looked miles better than the houses she previously saw. The structures still retained the brittle fragility in appearance, but the paintings were even this time. And the lawns appeared to be taken cared of as well. Vianne felt the corners of her lip tug up in a hopeful smile.

But like any other good news, it was crushed to dust as soon as it presented itself. Her father didn’t use his keys to unlock the door. Instead, it swung open on its own accord, revealing the face of a middle-aged woman with frizzy hair and leopard-printed blouse. Vianne’s mind jumped to the worst possible scenario, jumping back a good distance. The young woman stared at the fresh face for what felt like a long time, before the coughing from Mr. Yang pulled her from the staring contest.

“Clara, they’re my children; Vianne and Jack.” Her father’s gruff voice held her to the ground. Gesturing to the women next, he continued to speak. “Vianne, Jack, this is Clara. She’s my girlfriend.”

Despite him being this close to the two women, Mr. Yang was oblivious to the scowl that now stretched across his daughter’s face. Vianne put two and two together and realized why her mother refused to share too much of her father’s living situation. There was no way in hell she would have agreed to come had she knew of this beforehand. Her living arrangements were fucked up to no end, and for a moment, she contemplated ringing her mother on the spot.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Clara didn’t move from her position. She gave the two newcomers a pitying look, but her lips turned up to a smirk. “I’ve heard a lot about y’all.”

Jack stared at Vianne, lips pouting in morbid curiosity. The older sibling sighed and rolled her eyes; she was getting worked up over nothing. They only had to stay here for another year till graduation, so she reckoned she would find a way to grin and bear it.

“There are rules to this household.” Her father wasted no time in listing the regulations under his roof. “You won’t be able to run amok like ya did with your mother here. First, Clara is to be respected at all times.”

Mr. Yang was blind to the seething glare Vianne threw him as she unpacked her bags across the room. It was one thing to be forced to live under these conditions, but it was a totally different thing to be mandated around by a stranger who she detested. A biting remark made its way to her tongue, but was cut short by his rambling speech.

“Curfew is 6 pm sharp. No loitering around the streets after the sun goes down,” he continued. “No boys are allowed, and there will be no parties here.”

No one, and she meant no one, told her when she got to come home. The last time her mother set her a curfew was in middle school. And it was definitely not at that time either. She wasn’t interested in dating anyone from this neighborhood, much less bringing a boy back home. Parties were out of the question, Vianne had already made up her mind that she was going to burrow herself for a year before she dipped.

“I’ll stay out as much as I want.” It was a crisp retort, and she turned up her nose. “My car will be here in a few days. I’ll be fine.”

Mr. Yang’s nose flared at the comment. His eyes darkened, reminding her of the way he used to look at her mother. She didn’t voice it, but the familiar shivers ran down her spine. Avoiding his gazem Vianne took a sudden interest in the rings on her fingers.

“This ain’t Napa County, Vianne.” Her father’s hand shook. “You’ll be down in the dirt in no time if you don’t adapt to the people here.”

She ignored his statement and pulled out her luggage of clothes. Everyone knew of the nature of the ghetto people there. That was the reason she brought her car. Whatever it was, Vianne wasn’t going to touch them with a ten-foot pole.

“Whatever,” she mumbled. Sensing her displeasure in the conversation, Mr. Yang grumbled something about women, before throwing a stack of notebooks onto her bed. Vianne glanced at them, but made no attempt to retrieve the papers.

“These are the course intros for tomorrow.” Her father was opening a can of beer as he eyed her. “You and Jack are waking up at 7. No negotiations.”

“Sure, sure.” There was no reason to get into a fight, and she thought it was wise to choose her battles. A curt nod was all she gave him, before she slipped past her father to go find Jack. There was still time to brood over her state of affairs.

Time always flew when you were either panicking or on cloud nine. That would be the second night of the week where she didn’t get to sleep. Her eyes trailed to the calendar; today was her first day of school.

A/N: Sorry for the slow start! Juicy drama picks up in the next chapter! Reviews, criticism, and comments are welcome :3

And here's a shoutout to @classic80sand90smovieloves2 for inspiring and helping me write this out!

#stand and deliver #angel guzman #80s movies #fanfic #angel guzman imagine #80s movie imagines #lou diamond phillips #jaime escalante #edward james olmos #stand and deliver headcanon #fanfiction

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oohfluffy · 4 years

Text

TIHM Ch.4 | BBH

Group: EXO

Member: Byun Baekhyun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Rated M | University!AU | Football!AU

Word Count: 2,782

chapter 4

"Stop eating! Cheer with me!"

You rolled your eyes as you took another bite from your corndog, ignoring your best friend's complaints. The crowd has calmed down a bit and was all settled down on their seats as the game started. It has been 30 minutes since then, and you were not really paying that much attention.

A certain 04 guy kept on glancing this way though.

"Those foxes won't be able to catch up, I'm telling you." Jiwon smirked as she sat back down next to you with her glow sticks in her hands. "Let me have some."

You sighed before letting her get some of your fries. You looked up at the field and saw how they run around like dogs. You cringed as you saw how hard they bump on to each other, almost bouncing off for a good meter away. You watched as number 61 passed the ball to someone from an almost 10 meter distance, making you gasp in awe.

That was a strong pass.

What surprised you more was when the receiver didn't even budge when he grabbed the ball, as if it was nothing. He just continued running away from the opponents, swift and quick as a thief. The crowd suddenly started to shout louder, making you look around in shock.

"BYUN BAEKHYUN! BYUN BAEKHYUN!" They chanted like a mantra as the number 04 guy, who seems to be Byun Baekhyun, pushed his way from the annoying foxes blocking his way from the field goal.

"He seems to be really popular, huh?" You mumbled at your best friend, who was grinning widely beside you.

"Well, he's the quarterback. Suho might be the cap, but Baekhyun is the game manager." She proudly said, waving her glow sticks as the crowd roared in victory. "WHOOO! ANOTHER FIELD GOAL, YAAAS!"

When an hour passed, you stood up from your seat, wanting to have a break from this noisy crowd. Jiwon was on the railings, not running out of energy as she screamed with the other girls. You didn't bother disturbing her and went down the bleachers. You looked at your watch and saw that it was past 8pm.

"I'll just go to the restroom." You muttered as you held on to your bottle of water that Jiwon has bought along your food.

You trudged your way to the restroom located at the side of the field. You can still see the game continuing from here, seeing how bright the glow sticks on the bleachers. Most of the professors were present as well, surprisingly. They were even shouting with the crowd with proud grins.

You looked back at the field and nodded in agreement. Well, you admit those wolves are impressive. With your water bottle swinging in your hand, you entered the dim-lit girls' restroom, squinting your eyes at the blinking fluorescent light on the ceiling.

It seems that they haven't changed the lighting here yet.

Pushing the scary thoughts aside, you quickly entered a cubicle and did your business. You were consciously tapping your bottle on your knee, when the light stopped blinking. You sighed in relief as you stood up and—

"Holy..." You cursed under your breath as you zipped your pants up before raising your hand to locate the cubicle door. The light went out with a quiet thump, awakening those scary thoughts you just had earlier. "No, no. Calm down."

When you got to grab the lock, you opened it in a blink and hesitated.

It's too dark. You won't be able to get out of here. Just like before. In the dark—

"Damn." You scolded yourself for thinking those kinds of things in this situation. You gathered all your courage to open the door and get out quick. When you got to open the door, you carefully went out with your hands in front of you. You can still visualize where was the way to the door, so it won't be that hard, right?

With your heart pounding against your chest, you walked forward with long strides. When your hand hit on the wooden door, you let out a deep relieved sigh. You grabbed the door knob and turned it—

"FUCK!"

"THE HELL!"

Your heart must have stopped thumping as light entered the dark restroom, and a scared-looking puppy looked back at you. You noticed how sweat trickled on the sides of his face, down to his neck. His grayish hair was wet, and his uniform dirty. He probably took a short break, seeing that the game was still on going.

"What were you doing in that..." The number 04 guy looked back at the dark restroom behind you with a cringing expression. "...haunted-looking restroom?"

You instantly remembered you were still inside, and quickly moved out of the room, shutting the door behind you with a slam. You feel like your heart was left inside that dark abyss.

"The light suddenly went out, I didn't get to get out easily. It was too dark." You calmly explained despite the perturbation you felt earlier until now. You let out a breath.

"You okay?"

You blinked your eyes in surprise, darting your gaze up at him.

"Y-Yeah." You tried smiling at him as he seemed so worried. "I-It's just I was surprised."

"Your hands are shaking." Baekhyun furrowed his brows as he reached for your hands. They were indeed slightly shaking. Under his touch, your skin warmed in comfort. "You must be really frightened back there, hmm?"

As he caressed your hands, your cheeks flushed at the scenario. All the scary thoughts of the past were easily wiped out by a mere touch of his smooth skin on yours. You quickly snatched back your hands from his hold, his eyes showing shock and hurt at the same time.

"I-I'm sorry—" You cut him off as you looked away.

"I'm fine. Thanks."

Without another word, you walked away from him, leaving him with his concerned but interested eyes following you.

You didn't mean to offend him. It's just that, the sparks you felt along the collision of your skins surprised you.

"Where have you been?! I thought you left me." Jiwon welcomed your comeback with a pout, her glow sticks on her sides. "But then I realized that you still have an unfinished snack in the paper bag, so I knew you'd be back." She grinned as she pointed at your seat, where your paper bag with a half corndog left sat.

"You know me so well." You grinned weakly as you sat next to her, noticing your almost empty water bottle. You forgot to refill it at the water fountain near the restroom. You suddenly remembered your nerve-wracking experience in that restroom.

And your encounter with the quarterback.

"You alright, Jin-ah? Want water?"

You looked at your best friend, who was staring at you with worried eyes. You smiled and gratefully took her bottled water.

"Thank you. I just forgot to refill mine." You said before taking a gulp from her water bottle. She must have been slightly convinced as she saw your bottle, but her eyes didn't let go of your distracted gaze.

"Are you sure? You seem out of it."

At times like this, you don't know if you should be thankful that Jiwon is such an observant friend. Whenever something's wrong, she'll know it in no time. She looks after you like a mother would.

But sometimes, you just don't want to dig that past back. You just want to keep it in yourself.

You nodded enthusiastically, which probably too fake and not you, before looking at the field. You saw that 04 got back into the game, skipping his way into the field.

"I'm alright."

I'm not.

—

That Friday night ended with the Eve Academy's win as expected.

Jiwon talked endlessly about the game as you both went home, that you felt guilty not being able to contribute much enthusiasm in the whole conversation. Just a few nods and commentaries said.

Until Monday came, everyone was still buzzing in excitement as they talked about the game. You already heard enough from Jiwon, what more in campus? You begrudgingly closed your locker door before securely hugging your book for the second period.

"Only a subject left before lunch, my peaceful time of day." You mumbled to yourself as you turned on a corner towards the stairs.

You were looking ahead the hallway of the second floor, relieved at the minimal noise from the people around you. It was more chaotic on the first floor as everyone chats loudly near the lockers area—

"Oof!"

You almost dropped your approximately 50 thousand won book as this huge and irritating force catch you off guard. Fortunately, your fast muscle response didn't disappoint you. You planted your other palm that wasn't holding your book on the nearest wall, balancing yourself as a tall person's well-built body hit the floor.

"ARGH!" He whined as he met the floor with a wince.

"Hey! Stop roughhousing in the hallways, Park and Byun!" A familiar stern voice rang through the walls, making you look back at the small crowd beside you. They were walking from the adjacent hallway you were walking from earlier. This guy on the floor looks familiar as well.

"It was Baek! He pushed me all of a sudden!" The poor floor guy complained, his back flat on the ground. He accusingly pointed his finger to the culprit. "YAH! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!"

"Hey. I'm sorry about that. Are you alright?" A soft and gentle voice took you back to earth, big comforting eyes staring back at you. You stepped back from the wall before looking at the incoming group. "They're too playful, but they mean no harm."

"I-It's fine. I'm okay." You looked down at the wincing guy, who got help from another tall guy with sharp features. "I think he should be the one you should ask. He fell quite hard."

"Oh." The guy in front of you glanced at his friend with indifferent eyes. "He's fine. He should be used to falling on the ground. Football requires being friends with the earth, you know?"

You tilt your head in confusion as you processed his words. Before you could come into conclusion, a cheery voice pulled you back.

"HEY! You're that early bird fangirl!"

Your eyes widened in recognition as you see their familiar faces and hear their familiar voices. The cat-like smile of the loud guy overwhelmed you. However, because of his loud announcement, the other nine guys with him, including the one on the floor and the one in front of you, looked at you.

"Uh." You tried forming words in your mouth, but nothing seems to come out. Being the center of attention like this is totally not your thing. Especially they were boys. Who the hell won't freak out?

"Oh! Are you a freshman?" The captain, whom you recognized with his stern voice but soft features, asked nicely. "You must be really lucky, huh?"

"Yeah! Managing to watch us practice alone, and bumping into us all!"

You looked around the group, feeling uncomfortable with the attention you were getting, until your gaze fell to him. His cute slanted eyes lit up with mischief and amusement as they met yours, his thin pinkish lips pulled up into a smile.

"I-I'm sorry if you misunderstood me, but I'm not really a fan." You managed to find your voice as you looked away from a certain boy's stare. "But you guys played really well. Congrats on your win." You mentally face-palmed yourself as you realized you blabbered too much.

Are we being too feeling close? They must think I'm very talkative and a desperate secret fan—

"Is that so?" The cat guy pouted, but then smiled. "Thank you still for watching! That meant a lot already for us."

Your eyes widened a bit with surprise. Everyone was smiling gratefully. Even him.

"Y-You're welcome." You looked away before looking at your watch. "I-I need to go. Uh, my class will start in 5." You backed away with an awkward smile.

"Oh, sorry to keep you. See you around!"

You bowed slightly before turning your back at them. Your mind was fuzzy and all you can think about was if that really happened, if you really just talked to so many people at once.

People who didn't look at you with disgust and judging stares.

Your eyes welled up a bit as your lips formed a small smile.

"What a friendly bunch." You whispered to yourself as you shook your head.

—

♫ Ch. 5

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shipaholic · 4 years

Text

Omens Universe, Chapter 13 Part 2

Nearly made it to Alpha Centauri!

Warnings for this chapter: the terrifying vastness of space; vertigo; and more child endangerment than we’ve seen so far.

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 13, cont.

Of all the infinite spaces they’d found themselves in recently, this one truly made each of them feel small.

Nebulae crackled in the corner of their eyes. Comets sparked across the heavens like distant fireworks. There were stars, billions upon billions of stars, a riotous tumble of them. And planets, cold and grand, passing by like ships.

Aziraphale had never been here before. For the life of him, he had no idea why. No - perhaps he was afraid of the vastness. Of feeling engulfed.

He leaned, half-consciously, towards Crowley. Their fingers brushed. Slowly, as if moving underwater, Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hand.

Aziraphale tore his eyes away from the magnitude of space and looked at Crowley. He was in profile, lips slightly parted. His eyes shone with starlight. Aziraphale wanted to kiss him and keep watching him forever. He remembered Crowley had probably seen this room before. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of years in the past. Perhaps it hit him harder to come back than Aziraphale to see it for the first time.

“Did I ever mention I helped build some of these?” Crowley whispered.

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale whispered back. His heart brimmed over.

He happened to know the only part of Her creation missing from this room was the Earth. That was because it was on the top floor. He saw it the last time he presented his weekly report to Gabriel, floating in the air like a large, sedate disco ball. They would all use it in three days' time to transport themselves to Earth for Armageddon. Every angel in Christendom, pouring out of the sky.

Aziraphale peered around. There didn’t seem to be much of a filing system in here. Maybe all he had to do was…

“Alpha Centauri?” he said.

It was like going for a gentle stroll and accidentally stepping off a skyscraper.

Space lurched. The detritus of the universe streaked towards him, and past him before he could think about screaming. Two blue dots came out of the darkness like all-knowing eyes that meant the end of all things. They expanded until they were the size of suns, filling his vision, pinning him under their gaze, until with a heart-stopping wrench -

It all stopped.

Space was still again. The binary star system of Alpha Centauri lay before them, winking blue.

Aziraphale shook off the feeling he’d just freefall dived from a million miles up. He glimpsed Crowley’s face, and got a sudden idea of what it must have felt like for him, before all this happened. The Fall. He squeezed Crowley’s hand. Crowley’s eyes were glazed. Slowly, he came back to himself and squeezed back.

Aziraphale remembered, a fraction later than he should have, to check on Adam.

The boy’s face was white with exhilaration. “Wicked,” he whispered to himself.

Spacedog yipped and scratched his flank with his cybernetic back leg. His ears jiggled inside his fishbowl helmet. He didn’t look impressed. Aziraphale supposed he was made for this environment. Then he went back to deliberately ignoring Spacedog, because while Spacedog’s existence was remarkable, Aziraphale found him far too ridiculous to dwell on.

“We want Proxima Centauri B,” he said.

This time they all braced themselves. There was a relatively short, painless lurch forward as the room zoomed in on the planet orbiting one sun, Proxima Centauri. The planet was pockmarked like porous stone. It turned ponderously in the light from its star.

“Oh!” Crowley leaned forward in wonder. He pointed down at the craggy little planet. “I remember this! This one was one of mine.”

Aziraphale watched him puff out his chest and smiled.

“Yup. I totally helped with this one. Well. I looked over the plans. Well. I graffitied a rude word in some space dust.” Crowley paused. “They probably took it out.”

“How lovely,” Aziraphale said, dryly.

This was it. Triumph rang through his head. He was about to become an outer space fugitive. He couldn’t believe they’d got this far. There was only one step left, and they were home free. Or… not home. Not yet. But definitely free.

“Crowley, do you trust me?”

Crowley’s head snapped round. “That’s a funny question at this stage,” he said, sounding perturbed.

“Sorry. I need to be sure, though, or this next part won’t work.”

Crowley’s golden eyes regarded him.

“I trust you, angel.”

Aziraphale turned to face him. Crowley did the same, mirroring him. Aziraphale caught his other hand, holding them both, bare and gloved.

“Fuse with me.”

Relief lifted Crowley’s face.

“Oh, thank Satan. I was worried for a moment.”

Aziraphale gave a chuckle. “Sorry for being dramatic. I wasn’t -”

He broke off. He hadn’t been sure. If Crowley had truly forgiven him, yet. It would be understandable if he needed more time.

Apparently not. Crowley was attempting to loosen up in the receptionist’s tailored trousers. He stretched his inhumanly bendy spine, wiggled his snaky hips. It would have been rather alluring if Crowley wasn’t, as Aziraphale well knew, an awful dancer. It still was quite alluring, actually.

“Remember how to do this?” Crowley grinned.

“Of course. Like riding a velocipede.”

Crowley groaned and laughed. He began… a kind of shimmy, Aziraphale supposed. It was very wriggly. It had a slight drunk-wedding-guest-cum-gay-bar aspect, not that he’d been to a wedding or a gay bar in over eighty years.

Now that push came to shove, he felt rather foolish doing this in front of an audience. He avoided looking anywhere near Adam and broke into a modified Gavotte.

They danced towards each other. They were taking it slower than the urgency of the situation asked for, if he was being honest. But it was thrilling, the build up without touching, the coy flashes of eye contact. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s body heat through his silk blouse. Crowley’s long, skinny chest wiggled inches away from him. His gem glowed softly, like it was warming up.

Aziraphale clasped his arm, and his own gem flared.

They melted together.

Zadkiel stumbled out, wide-eyed and flushed.

“Wow. I need to get a room.”

He noticed Adam.

“Ummmm. Hello there. We’ve sort-of met, sort-of haven’t. I’m Zadkiel.” He held out his hand.

Adam glared as he took it. Some weird grown-up stuff had just happened, and he was ready to zip away from it at the speed of light.

“They just… turned into you,” he said.

“Yup.”

“They’re really bad dancers.”

“So am I!”

“Right. Why’d they do that, then?”

“Well… they’ve been apart for a while, and while they’re not human, as you know, er, I know for your species the whole dancing thing can be something of a mating ritual… has anyone ever given you the Talk?”

Adam looked deeply disgusted.

“Why’d they turn into you?” he asked, in slow, measured tones.

“Oh! So they can’t track us.” Zadkiel flashed a grin. “The people we’re running away from can tell whenever Aziraphale or Crowley use their powers - their alien powers, that is - but I don’t show up on their, errr, alien scanner things. So they can’t follow us to Proxima Centauri.”

This was going to require a lot of discipline, he realised. If they wanted to be good intergalactic space fugitives - and Zadkiel absolutely did - there would have to be no more performing of miracles unless fused from now on. One thoughtless snap of the fingers from either of them, and it would all be over. Zadkiel hoped the other two were up to it.

He squared up to the orbiting planet below.

“Enough explanation. It’s time to go. Are you ready?”

Adam nodded. The blue lights of Alpha Centauri shone in his eyes.

“Brilliant. Hold on to my arm and don’t let go no matter what.”

Adam scooped up Spacedog,[1] along with the Book, and looped his spare arm through Zadkiel’s. He may have shown up unexpectedly, but he was a reassuringly large presence.

Zadkiel performed the ritual on himself and Adam. Nobody needed to leave their gems behind accidentally at this stage. He guessed it would be messy in Adam’s case.

“Here we go -”

Zadkiel reached out.

His fingertips dissolved as they neared the planet. Then his whole body melted into a stream of atoms, and this really was a freefall, dimensions compressing around him, his body stretching back miles, stars streaking across his vision. He was made of mist and he was rushing through a cold tunnel faster than any living thing had ever moved

~*~

They popped out at the other end, mouths agape like fish.

The first thing was the silence.

It was crushing and absolute. It was the silence of a void. A sea of darkness full of pinpricks of light that only made the darkness more infinite. He remembered, from two different perspectives, rowing across a lake that had been like this.

Then, the planet.

It spread out below him. A hard, mountainous, canyon-pocked waste-scape. He could see where it curved, the crescent of light like the rind of an orange. He could see the shimmering corona of its atmosphere. He could see the granite and sandstone and marsh-coloured patches of its body, all merging like a paintbox left out in the rain.

He had never seen anything like it. A new world. Untouched. Alien.

He had to admit it was a cracking view.

Adam’s fingers dug into his arm. The green dog yipped at a hysterical pitch.

Zadkiel looked down at the boy and noticed the third thing.

Adam gasped for breath that wouldn’t come. He stared into Zadkiel’s eyes, terrified, as his lips turned blue.

---

[1] Neither of Zadkiel’s components knew what to make of the dog. They’d each secretly hoped that fusing would bring some wisdom on the subject. Zadkiel was happy to report: nope. The dog thing was really weird.

(Link to next part)

#omens universe fic #omens universe #good omens fic #good omens #ineffable husbands #steven universe #yeeeeah so Aziraphale and Crowley are terrible guardians #who forget that children need things like oxygen #and to have their eyes shielded from thirsty fusion dances #any gross space-inaccuracies I wish to preemptively attribute to Antichrist-induced cartoon physics #I spent an afternoon on wikipedia looking up details on Proxima Centauri B #and the best I could come up with for a description was still 'the planet... was... brown...'

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paradise-of-guilty-pleasures · 4 years

Text

Shattered Reflections {3}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Prince Hans is a mirror at heart, but wishes to shatter his reflections and correct his past mistakes. He returns to Arendelle, willingly surrendering himself to Queen Elsa’s judgement. Uncovering truths, unforeseen circumstances and a bit of je ne sais quoi, bring the Ice Queen and the Mirror Prince together in a way neither of them would have imagined.

A/N:

(( This is a collaborative RP Fic written by lovely fellow Helsa shipper FOW and myself. We RP for fun and just wanted wanted to share this story with fellow shippers, especially all my lovely shipper buddies over in the Helsa Discord Server. Long live the Province of Helsa! Thank you, Beta Reader Friends, your help is much appreciated. Hope you enjoy~ ))

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2. Burn After Reading

[WARNING]:

Readers Discretion is Advised. There is mild mention of bodily harm from corporal punishment this chapter, it’s nothing too graphic, but I thought I’d warn anyway, better to be safe. If the subject makes you uncomfortable please refrain from reading.

–

Chapter 3. Bear Your Burdens

Hans rested on his stomach on his bed, arms crossed under his chin and eyes closed. At the sound of approach, however, he pushed himself up slowly, with a bit of a stretch, and waited to be addressed. In the corner under his bed were his dirty clothes, the ones he wanted to wash for himself. "Her Majesty graces me with her presence? I wonder what I've done to deserve such an honor." He remarked idly, though he didn't seem to focus too immediately. He seemed tired. Perhaps a little flushed.

Elsa thought she’d been prepared to face Hans again, but actually standing there in the dungeon, she realized she was not. The journals were one thing, but something about being in his presence again made her feel uneasy.

Yet it was not just Hans that had made her anxious, it was the dungeon itself as well. Elsa had not visited the dungeons since the coronation incident, and being back gave her a feeling of déjà vu, that made her chest compress and took her breath away. But maybe it was something more than the déjà vu that was making her restless.

It took her a moment to speak, after regaining enough air.

“ The Captain told me you weren’t acting like yourself today, ” maybe those weren’t the right words. “And that you wish to wash your own clothes? Which is a bit odd in and of itself.”

Hans seemed to think about it. “Not like myself? Curious, that I should have a ‘myself’ to act like.” He observed, seeming to find that by itself intriguing.

“I would like that, yes. The two questions may be related, but they are unfortunately tied to a secret I hold very dear. I would rather keep them to myself.” He paused to think a moment. “Does the good Captain have any elder siblings?”

The Captain seemed perplexed, and looked to Elsa briefly, perplexed, before answering. “No, I do not.”

“Ah, well. You aren’t likely to understand, then. Nor would the Queen or her Highness, they are too close and too friendly. No, there are some lessons one, only learns with brothers, I think. But I suppose prisoners are not entitled to secrets. A shame.” He looked between the two, but his gaze wavered somewhat. He seemed unfocused, and almost as if he had forgotten what he was saying, as he didn’t continue to explain himself.

Elsa did not like secrets. Secrets were what had kept her away from her dear Anna for so many years.

Yes, she was curious of his secret, Yet she did not plan prying it out of him, if he had his reservations she was going to let him be, for his aloofness had worried her. The way he spoke of his brothers was so grim and it seemed to affect him deeply.

“You’re right I don’t understand,” she paused. “ I wish I could understand… but if you wish not to share your secret I will not force it from you.”

Hans seemed deeply thoughtful a moment.

“Her Majesty is far too kind. And too gentle a soul for these things.” He mused. His words seemed less carefully chosen, and his manner even less so.

“Too bad, I feel in a talkative mood. My secret is, you could stab me and my last intelligible words would be 'I am fine’. I’d sooner die than admit to being in pain in most cases. However, I rather don’t like not being able to focus my eyes -or my tongue.” He ignored his usual protocol and leaned over his bed again to lie on his stomach and seemingly ignored them. It was the most unlike himself that he had been.

“No, don’t ask, you know how I’ll answer. If you’re so curious, call for a doctor and let him find out. Or let me die in peace with my dignity, whatever, I’m quite neutral on the subject. But it’s all much too grim for a lady.” He wouldn’t tolerate any if this 'are you well’ guff. He clearly -so far as he could tell- was not.

“I think he might actually be dying.” The Captain admitted. He never thought someone could be so blazè about the subject, but Hans was most certainly not himself at that moment.

“Yes, the Navy’s opinion on treasoners is much different from the Isles’ royal family. At least one has a spine.” Hans mused, eyes closed on his folded-over pillow. He looked more like a large and lazy cat than a man in the dungeons.

Dying? He was dying? Elsa was frozen, she didn’t know how else to react. Frost formed at her fingertips. Her breath lost yet again. It perturbed her, how he could seem so nonchalant about his own demise.

Yes, she had resentment towards this man, for what he had done to her sister (more than what he had done to her), yet she did not wish him dead. She had wished never to lay eyes on him again, certainly, but by death, that was never how she wanted her wish to be fulfilled.

His return to Arendelle had made more sense to her now; he wanted to make amends before perishing. Having a dying man wait for his imminent death in the dungeon did not sit right with her.

So he had also been brutally punished by his navy. In her queenly studies she had read up on Naval Law and just remembering some of their harsh punishments she’d come across in her readings, made wince just thinking about them.

He was right her soul was too gentle, for she felt sorrow even for this Accursed Prince.

She felt helpless, trapped inside her mind like she was once trapped inside her room, with the walls slowly closing in around her.

Still frozen, lost in the maze of her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed the layer of ice she unconsciously created across the dungeon floor, and was now quickly creeping up the walls.

“Your Majesty, breathe.” The Captain spoke gently, but knew better than to touch her in such a state. “If he’s talking about what I suspect, a skilled doctor could yet help, but we’d want to get them quickly. Damn fool didn’t think to tell us to change bandages.” The Captain seemed somehow both annoyed and pitying.

“Didn’t want to be a bother. I never do. Much easier to die than admit weakness. But…” Hans seemed to lose track of what he was saying. He perhaps noticed the cold and rolled a bit to lean his back against the wall where the frost crept.

The Captain’s voice snapped her out of her trance. Breathe, she had to remember how to breathe. Her respiration was uneven as air started to fill her lungs again.

If there was a chance of saving him she was going to take it, even if protested against it. She had reached her limit listening to his self-depreciation, it started to exasperate her.

In her vexation she responded to his words a second thought.

“ Weakness?” She huffed. “Just letting oneself die is the ultimate form of weakness.” She believed that, for in her weakest moment she had wished for death herself.

The frost continued to engulf the dungeon wall.

“I believe it takes real strength to admit pain and continue living.”

Hans seemed to hardly be listening.

“Yes, I have heard that.” He sounded unimpressed. But he seemed calmer.

“Your Majesty, I propose we call a doctor. Now.” The Captain proposed, shifting warily. “The clothes- Hiding blood, I suspect.” He didn’t like what this sounded like. Hans seemed unlike himself. He shifted a bit. “I think it’s his back. A bit more ice might help stay conscious. Or at least to dampen the fever.”

Elsa nodded in agreement. “Yes, please go call a doctor.”

She stepped closer to Hans. She looked down at her hand and realized she still held the note wrote earlier and brought with her, she had a strange idea. The note was no damp rag, but thought it could work as a makeshift one, if she chilled it and placed on his forehead.

“I’ll provide the ice, in the meantime.”

The Captain hesitated a moment, but he nodded, deciding Hans wouldn’t be a big problem as he fled from the scene to find a doctor.

Hans seemed to blink a bit, but he closed his eyes again. He was unreasonably warm.

“Too kind by far.” He muttered, without much context. He didn’t pull away, if anything, he relaxed somewhat.

“I didn’t do this intentionally. 'Thought that had healed.” He muttered.

Elsa was grateful that Hans had not been stubborn enough to protest her help. She had not touched him directly, but the heat emanating from his body even at the distance was worrisome.

She didn’t respond to him, instead she took a deep breath and tried to control the flurry she created over his back. She was intently focused on creating a light frost over his shirt. Elsa had been extra cautious when her ice powers touched someone, she did not want to risk what happened to Anna happen to anyone else.

Hans seemed more comfortable with the slight chill, really.

There was an odd smell closer to him. Bad, but unrecognizable without an expert there. It was on his old shirts, as well, but to a lesser extent, along with spots of blood in strange hatching patterns.

It didn’t take long for a doctor to arrive with the guard, and a medical bag.

“Good afternoon, your Majesty.” He bustled right in to get to work, sniffed the air, and wrinkled his nose. “Whatever it is, it’s infected. Would you be opposed to him being moved to a more sterile environment?” He didn’t even have to look at Hans to know it.

“You might not want to be here when the dressings come off. It could be a very upsetting sight. And smell. But your ice does help.” He assured. “I see we have the Prince for a patient. Didn’t know he was in Arendelle.” The Doctor may have been slightly uneasy about that fact, but it didn’t change that Hans was his patient, and he would do what he could.

The Doctor’s bombardment of words barely gave her time to process them all.

“ Not at all, feel free to transfer him, there are ample rooms you can use.” There were many empty servant and guest rooms in the Arendelle Castle that were not in use, and hadn’t been vacant for years. Elsa hesitated only for a brief moment, but looking back down at feverish fool in front of her, she found her resolve. “ If my ice can serve useful in any way, I’m willing to oblige.”

The Doctor seemed uncertain, but gave a bit of a sigh and nodded. “The clearest room you have, and a cot, I’ll need a lot of light, a lot of clean water, clear spirits. Got that? And somebody to help transfer him, he’s clearly not in any walking condition.” He spoke to the Captain of the guard, who nodded and went out to look.

“I’ve walked in worse.” Hans muttered from his cot.

“Then congratulations on not dying, but if you get up I’m asking the Queen to ice you to that bed.” The Doctor didn’t even pause to snap at him. Hans couldn’t help but smile a bit.

Hans muttered something about 'the best doctors’ but he seemed only semi-conscious at best.

While the guard was off, the doctor knelt down and checked under Hans’ collar to look at his back, prying him away from the wall. Hans didn’t even seem to notice the intrusion on his personal space or the touch. The doctor drew air between his teeth in an expression of sympathy pain. “Well the good news is, it doesn’t look like the infection will kill him today. He might’ve even lasted into tomorrow before being critical. The other good news is, he would be very difficult to kill if he’s lived this long. That or the Isles have better doctors.”

It was not a Queen’s duty to assist a doctor, Elsa was not bound by anything really, yet there she was regardless.

The Captain had sent a few of his men to help transfer Hans over from the dungeon to the new room. It was no easy feat, but it was done.

The Captain had found everything the Doctor required as quickly as possible and now they were almost done preparing for the Doctor to start working.

The time arrived shortly after, the Doctor carefully peeled off Hans shirt to uncover the secret he hid behind it. The Doctor had been right, it was a very unpleasant sight. Elsa had tried to mentally prepare herself, but it was far worse than she could have imagined. Her immediate response was to avert her gaze, it was too much for her to take in.

In the brief moment she had seen his back, she was overwhelmed with emotions. She shivered and could almost feel the ache upon her own back, that was probably nothing but an insignificant fraction of what he was actually feeling.

How long had he been living with these scars, if he said he thought they had healed already? He had arrived to Arendelle standing so tall, doing so well to hide his burden, that she never would have deduced it. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

The stench was nothing compared to the sight of his lacerations.

She felt herself freezing up again, but she couldn’t allow herself that luxury, she had to snap out of it. She took a deep breath, reminding herself she had volunteered herself to be useful during the operation, not pity him. No amount of pity can help a dying man.

The wounds had, for the most part, healed. The problem was, 'most’ was not 'completely’. Some had kept their scabs and were yet still too fresh, and the rope-like scar tissue was nearly indistinguishable from an infection below the skin. The Doctor had to do what he could to discover all the lingering wounds, get rid of the pus, clean the wounds, and re-bandage. Antibiotics were given, of course, something to stop the damage. In spite of how bad it looked, and how bad the infections smelled, the process wasn’t nearly as long or difficult as it appeared on the surface. That didn’t change the doctor’s perplexity as he finished up the surgery.

“I’ll change the bandages twice daily and keep an eye on him. He should be up and chatting again in a day or two, once the fever breaks. The infection itself isn’t as bad as the rest of it looks, but the surprising thing is that he got that many lacerations to begin with. Generally one isn’t supposed to survive that many.” It was true what Hans said, then. He would sooner die than show weakness, if he never mentioned that.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Elsa said with a nod. The Doctor then walked himself out.

The room had been emptied out other then Hans and herself. She had lingered behind and gazed at him and at in his fresh bandages and winced again knowing what was concealed behind them. Elsa approached the bedside, she hovered her hand over him, the heat emanating from him had lessened from before, but was still intense.

Hans would have hated this, if he were conscious. To be seen injured, by so many. Unable to snap at them or reassure them he was fine. Now his secret was out, that he could hide discomfort and pain, so now he would have to be watched for anyone to be certain.

Yet, he had told her, in his own way. The odd scratching on his note, reminiscent of the hash marks across his back; the admission of his secret in spite of her reassurance that he didn’t need to tell, the way he argued with words, but didn’t actually try to push anyone away. He tried not to be an inconvenience, but he accepted it when he was treated with care.

In spite of what pain they had caused him, he only ever spoke well of the Navy. So far as he was concerned, it seemed, he deserved them.

He sighed a little at the comfort of her natural chill around him. Ordinarily Hans enjoyed the warmth, but in this particular case, the chill helped him feel more at peace, and eased the pain.

It had been a long day for Elsa. What was supposed to be a simple verdict, had spiraled into a small frenzy. She was grateful the worst had passed, at least she hoped. She would not easily forget what transpired in that room.

She was ready to call it a day, when she heard the pitter-patter of someone running in the halls, it could only be one person, Anna.

“Elsa! Finally, it’s been so quiet around here. The guards told me you were busy all day, what’s on your mind?” She could tell Elsa was stressed, but since when was that new? Anna was always there to offer sisterly support- as long as Elsa would actually take it. Some days that seemed like a struggle.

Normally Elsa would indulge her younger sister with her chit-chat, but she really wasn’t in the mood to talk. Instead she did something that she didn’t generally do, and would definitely raise more questions from her, but she didn’t care she needed it more than anything right now. Without saying a word Elsa wrapped her sister in a tight hug.

Anna knew that had to be bad. Like 'oh god who’s dying’ bad. She wrapped her sister up in her arms as much as she could and squeezed her tight.

“Okay, whatever it is, is pretty bad. Just tell me you’re not dying and we can have some cocoa or something and… I dunno, sit quietly together?” Anna liked to chat to decompress, Elsa didn’t. Elsa needed the decompressing. So if they needed to just bundle up in blankets in silence for a while, they could do that. In the meanwhile, lots of warm hugs -and a little bit of worrying from Anna.

“I promise, I’m not dying Anna,” Elsa said softly nuzzled in her sisters embrace. She let out a sigh. “I would love some chocolate.”

“Alright. Girl time? Maybe we need to bundle up in bed with hot chocolate and talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need. You start bundling and I’ll get the cocoa?” It wasn’t about the warmth -obviously- but the blankets made for a nice calming weight. And they both loved chocolate.

“Yes, Thank you.” Elsa gave her little sister one last squeeze before letting her go.

The two sisters had bundled up like promised, drinking hot chocolate in silence.

After a while, the silence was too much even for Elsa to bear.

“Anna…” she began but didn’t know how to continue.

Anna perked up. She thrived on conversation, but she knew whatever was wrong had to be bothering Elsa like, a lot.

“Whatever it is, I’m here for you.” She assured, reaching over to rest a hand on Elsa’s arm. She hoped that whatever it was, that everything would be okay.

She hadn’t missed the emphasis from earlier, but she had a bad feeling about what Elsa meant when she said 'I’m not dying.’ That meant someone was, right? Who? Not Kristoff, at least, she was spending a lot of time with him and he probably would have told her about that… right?

Elsa let out a soft involuntary groan. “I know.” she answered reaching her other arm over to touch her sisters hand.

Elsa let out a deep sigh. “Today was just… a very hard day.” She tried to give her sister a smile, but it was visibly forced.

Anna copied the look. She smiled, but she could see the strain and worry on Elsa.

“Do you want to tell me about it or not? You look like you’re dying inside. Pick whichever is easier. Or have a little breakdown. It’s okay.” Anna offered her arms. What were sisters for, if not completely necessary familial cuddles?

Elsa was at the verge of tears, she took a deep breath to try to calm herself down. “… I saw something very bad happen to someone…” her voice was quavery. “And it’s really been affecting me.” her breath staggered. “I wish I could tell you more, but it’s really hard.” she finished her voice cracked.

Anna set down her cocoa and shifted behind Elsa to hold her tight. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. In Arendelle something bad happened? You don’t have to tell me right now if you can’t, just feel how you need to feel for a bit, okay? It’s okay.” She stroked Elsa’s hair and hoped for the best. Anything to make things a little more okay. Anna didn’t know it, but she was the kind of person who did her damnedest to heal hearts and make things better.

Anna’s embrace was so warm. Elsa readjusted in her arms. Elsa couldn’t hold it in anymore and began to softly weep, letting all the sadness she had built up throughout the day. She felt safe in her younger sister’s hold.

Anna almost flinched, she never saw Elsa cry. But she held Elsa tight and hummed the lullaby their mother used, just to try and calm Elsa’s spirits.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She cooed between verses, and just let Elsa cry it out while she could. Whatever this was, it was clearly awful.

Everything her little sister did, helped to comfort her. The weeping had aided in easing her heavy heart. As her tears became subdued Elsa thanked her sister. She leaned her head against her and closed her eyes.

“It’s okay.” Anna assured again, continuing to pet Elsa’s hair.

“Wow, whatever it was really affected you, huh? Are you feeling a little better?” She asked softly, just hoping to talk through some of her fears, if Elsa was up to it. Or she could rest. Whatever Elsa was ready for.

“Yes…Thank you Anna, for everything, ” she said faintly. “… it’s just, seeing someone hurt like that was too much to bear.” “What was it? You seem so freaked out and… and heartbroken. Are you going to be okay? Are they?”

“I don’t know if I- …it’s hard for me to say,” Elsa sniffled. She shifted, rubbing her eyes with her hand and turning to look at her sister. “But, I’m going to be okay,” Elsa said with a soft smile, more genuine than the last, and a nod. She paused. Her heart pounded. Her gaze drifting from her sister. Her tone was hushed. “ I don’t know if they’ll be alright, but I really hope they will be.”

“Okay, well, in this kingdom good things happen, and we’re going to make sure to do everything a person can do. That’s all we can do, right?” Anna suggested sweetly. Kristoff had a saying of 'nothing is permanent’, and his philosophy was very much that things would happen, and sometimes they weren’t controllable. It helped Anna understand that she couldn’t fix everything, but that that wasn’t always a bad thing.

“It’ll be okay, one way or another.” She assured. She hoped she was right. Kristoff was better at these things.

“ Your right, ” Elsa said reverting her gaze back to her sister. She found one of her sister’s hands with her own and clasped it.

“Alright.” Anna felt a little better, hearing that maybe she had said the right thing. “Why don’t you sleep? I’ll stay right here. Just like when we were kids.” Anything to help her feel better, after all this mess that scared Elsa so.

Anna just wished she knew what had shaken Elsa so badly. She wasn’t sure she had seen this in person, but she knew it had to be like what she had felt when their parents had passed. Even outside of her room the castle had chilled after that.

#Helsa #IceBurns #Hans x Elsa #Frozen #Frozen FanFiction #Shattered Reflections

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coffeecomicsgalore · 4 years

Text

A Night to Remember

Ao3

Chapter 9 - The Discussion

Adrien and Marinette walked back to the bakery after an uneventful rest of the school day. They retrieved some treats from Sabine and went up the stairs to get started on homework.

“I know we didn’t get to talk much after you ran over here last night...” Marinette said while biting into a pastry. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Adrien swallowed hard, trying to scrape up the memories of the heated conversation he was so desperately trying to remove from his mind.

Seeing his discomfort, Marinette placed a hand on his forearm. “We don’t have to talk about it. But know I’m here if you do want to talk about it.”

He removed his stoic glare from the table to look into her eyes. He shook his head. “He wanted to lock me back up. Get me away from my friends. Make me go back on that strict schedule that I had been doing for years.”

He swallowed slowly, trying to remove whatever lump formed in his throat. His glare moved back to the table, making his eyes look hollow with fear. “He was disappointed in me ‘lying’ to him over the relationship with Kagami. Saying my disobedience perturbed him. Scoffed at my wanting to work in the bakery.”

Marinette watched him closely. She didn’t want him to close up as he was talking about this. She scooted up close to his side and wrapped her arm around his waist while placing her chin on his shoulder. She placed her free hand on his, squeezing it gently. The intimate movement had done wonders to his tense frame. She could instantly feel him loosen the tension in his shoulders.

“You don’t have to do it today, but you do need to go back home at some point to at least talk to him.”

Adrien frowned at the idea. He let out a sigh before agreeing with her statement. “Not today. I can’t. I won’t. But I’ll call Nathalie to set up a time with him later this week.”

She reached for his phone and handed it to him. “I know you. If you don’t do it now, you won’t talk to her until the end of the week.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. You know me all too well.”

Marinette playfully sticks out her tongue only for him to do it back.

-----xoxox-----

Nathalie was able to schedule a meeting for Adrien on Friday afternoon. It gave Adrien a few days to relax and calm down before meeting his father on the painful discussion.

As they walked down the steps of Collège Françoise Dupont, Marinette calmly spoke to Adrien before pulling him into a quick hug for good luck. Gorilla arrived shortly thereafter to collect him. Adrien was nervous, not knowing which direction the conversation would go.

He entered the atrium of the cavernous mansion, feeling small and alone. The small, quaint space he had come to love and embrace back at Marinette’s made him hate the emptiness of this home more than ever before. He started to panic; his eyes glossed over as he gripped the strap of his bag tightly, knuckles white from the intensity. He could feel Plagg patting his chest, the little kwami hoping to calm down the anxiety that was building up.

Nathalie walked in behind him, abruptly startling Adrien from the chaos of his mind. “Adrien, I will speak to your Father to see if he’s ready. Please wait here.”

Adrien nodded; his eyes still wide while his pupils were the size of pinpricks.

He could hear a calming voice from his blazer. “Kid, remember. You have me here rooting you on. You also have a place at pigtail’s house if this doesn’t go well. You aren’t alone.”

“Thanks, Plagg, I -” Nathalie returned, cutting off whatever Adrien was about to say to the god of destruction.

“Adrien, your Father is ready to speak to you now.”

Adrien walked up the stairs and made his way into the study.

“Father.”

Gabriel was sitting in his chair, staring at the blonde-haired boy. His hands were steepled in front of his mouth, eyes silently judging Adrien the moment he walked in.

“You have two minutes to elaborate.”

Adrien stared at his father as he hesitated. Okay, so this is how it will go, he thought.

“I’m waiting.” Gabriel said with bubbling anger.

Adrien sucked in some air, inhaling some courage along with it. “I am an adult. I should be allowed to set my own schedule, work wherever I please, and date whomever I want.”

Gabriel brought his hands down to the table.

Adrien continued. “As I stated before, Kagami and I did not deceive you in any way. We mutually decided it was not in our best interests to pursue a relationship after a few dates. It just did not work for us to be more than just friends. We maintained a professional relationship to ensure both the Tsurugi and Gabriel brands looked professional in all aspects of the business.”

Adrien halted a moment, a dizzy spell from the built-up anxiety crossed his eyes. When he gathered the strength, Adrien moved the conversation. “The media chose to believe our relationship was more than it was. And since it was not in bad press, we chose to leave the relationship as the way they viewed it. As long as the businesses did not suffer, we were comfortable enough to continue it.”

Gabriel shifted in his seat a bit. Adrien paused waiting for him to say something, anything just to get a glimmer of what he was really thinking.

“And how do you suppose you move past this media blunder?” Gabriel said finally.

“Kagami and I spoke already. We would like to address this directly to the media. Kagami will not be able to travel to do this, but we can have the media broadcast her through video conference while I am also there. We will discuss this in its entirety, including the subject of Lila and her deceitful lies.”

Gabriel stared and nodded.

“Nathalie will schedule a press release with Nadja Chamack.” He focused his attention to the assistant. “Nathalie, please ensure you speak with Mlle. Tsurugi for availability before scheduling the interview. This should be done soon as it has been a few days without confirmations or denials from all parties.”

“Yes, sir.” Nathalie looked to her tablet, most likely to email a few people.

“Also, remove Mlle. Rossi from any future events. Her interview was distasteful and dishonest. We do not allow this type of action from any of our models. As of this moment, she will no longer be doing business with us.”

Adrien can only smile slightly at the thought of Lila no longer having the upper hand in any courts. From losing her credibility in class, clearing his name of any scandals, clearing Marinette’s name from years of torture, and no longer working alongside him when modeling, he could only scream in excitement in his mind.

Gabriel turns back to Adrien, fingers tapping against the table. “Now onto your living arrangements, Adrien. Will you continue living at Mlle. Dupain-Cheng's home until the school year ends?”

Adrien frowned. He didn’t know what to do. It seems that maybe he could salvage any little relationship he has with his father by returning back home. But the thought of losing that freedom terrifies him.

“Father, I am an adult. I believe that I have been handling adulthood well under normal circumstances.” He swallows the lump from this throat before continuing. “While I do appreciate the help and agreeance on how to handle this current situation, I do not want to live here if it means I will lose what I have worked so hard to obtain. If you do want me to go back to having Nathalie handle all of my daily requirements, then I am sorry Father, but I will not come back home.”

“I respect your decision.” Gabriel nods at Adrien’s statement. “You have handled yourself well. You are welcomed to come back home and I will not disrupt your schedule any longer. All I ask is that you get back to your studies, lessons, and modeling as previously requested, and you can continue what you please.”

“Thank you, Father.” Adrien says with a smile. “I will gather my things and will be back this evening.”

"Very well. You are dismissed.” Adrien nods to his father before leaving the study, a wide grin plastered on his face.

#a night to remember #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug

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dreadhaus-literature · 5 years

Text

“Gun in My Hand.”

Bunny had a good idea, use the song you’re listening to, to write, and given we’ve been reading Civil War...well it just seems fitting.

“Why did love put a gun in my hand? Why did love put a knife in my heart? Why did love open up my scars?

Was it for redemption? Was it for revenge? Was it for the thrill of pushing my heart to the edge? Why did love, why did love put a gun in my hand?”

At the time, it had seemed like the only, inevitable outcome, but looking back on it...well, hindsight’s always 20/20, isn’t it?

The Cloak of Levitation, known more commonly simply as Stephen Strange’s cloak, fluttered around Monica’s petite shoulders, the tips of it’s collar gently touching her cheeks and temple like butterfly kisses, seeking to reassure her and keep her safe and warm while a group of Haushold members met their very deserved and just punishment for subjecting Monica to their terrible in-fighting.

The first two to face the dreaded “big shirt” were the catalyst of the fighting, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. And a big shirt it had to be indeed, what with Steve’s broad shoulders and Tony’s broader ego.

“Sweetheart, angel, light of my life,” Tony paused, shifting one shoulder before turning his dark head incredulously to Steve. “Did you fucking grow overnight? Why is there suddenly less material?”

“Stop complaining--and language,” Steve muttered, trying and failing miserably to get a little extra leverage in the shirt already stretched to it’s limits.

Tony’s staring only increased before he blinked, slowly, and turned back to Monica. “Babygirl does Daddy really have to do this? I already apologized to you, quite skillfully if I might add, between your thighs--”

There was a slight ripping sound as Steve reeled back to stare at Tony, now. “That’s inappropriate, Tony! You’re going to embarrass her!”

“Oh get off your high horse, Captain Man, don’t act like you don’t do the same thing--”

“I don’t embarrass her by telling everyone!” Steve also didn’t have it in him to embarrass Monica or speak publicly about his love life with his wife.

Monica blinked and looked up at Stephen. “Captain Man?”

Stephen made a show of restraint by not rolling his eyes. “Tony thinks he’s being clever calling Steve a mixture of his and Clark’s superhero name.”

“Because I am,” Tony snided.

“And it isn’t because you’re jealous how fast he and Clark bonded?” Stephen countered.

“Bruce is, I’m not, I could care less.” Tony answered so fast even the cloak turned, steering Monica’s petite shoulders as it went. “...Stop staring at me, Wonder Curtains--Stephen get your moving drapes away from me. But leave Monica.”

“Oh, we are most certainly leaving.” Stephen swept his arm around the small of Monica’s back, turning her from the two Avenger leaders to the next pair subjected to the Big Shirt--Namor and T’Challa.

“Empress~” Namor all but purred, his charming smile made a little more nefarious by that widow’s peak. “You are, as always, a vision.”

“My queen.” T’Challa bowed his dark head out of loving respect.

Monica had to give it to them, they managed to hold onto their refinement even wearing an over-sized shirt, both their heads in the same hole, shoulders brushing together with every movement they made.

“How has it been?” Monica asked, which was the true purpose of these rounds, to see how they were all getting along. She hadn’t even needed to ask Tony and Steve, they answered the unasked question by fighting the second they opened their mouths--but Stephen had warned her that T’Challa and Namor, being royalty, didn’t often resort to squabbling like, say, Tony and Steve. Their fighting was more subtle and she’d have to be on the lookout for it.

“Oh, who could possibly complain sharing such close quarters with the legendary ruler of Wakanda?” Namor’s question sounded genuine, flattering, but Monica was keen to him and had almost immediately picked up the underhandedness that laced his regal tone like cyanide.

T’Challa also was not buying it. “Namor has been stabbing me.”

“What?!” Monica nearly squealed, moving to lift the shirt to see what T’Challa was talking about--what she revealed beneath the fabric was Namor holding a hermit crab in one hand, and the little sea creature was going to town pinching, poking, and stabbing T’Challa with it’s tiny claws right in the Black Panther’s side.

“He’s being dramatic, it hasn’t even broken the skin.” Namor snapped.

“It’s shredding my clothes.”

“You’re welcome, that shirt is tacky.”

“Namor, give Monica the crab.” Stephen was mildly perturbed to have to utter such a ridiculous sentence.

Monica held out her hand and Namor did as Stephen asked--if only because he got to touch Monica in the process. Long, elegant fingers skimmed hers as Namor handed her what was essentially one of her little subjects, the crab scuttling around her palm, clacking away excitedly before scurrying up her arm to sit on her shoulder.

“T-Thank you,” Monica straightened up after replacing the shirt back down. “You boys behave, or you’ll be stuck here longer than Tony and Steve.”

The latter pair were still arguably audibly nearby, and Namor and T’Challa both turned to stare at them with refined sighs, but given their own history...they were probably heading for the same fate.

The next pair in the Big Shirt were Reed Richards and Victor Von Doom, known to most as Dr. Doom. Their rivalry was the oldest in the room, though Namor and T’Challa were a close second--and this was apparent the moment Monica got within earshot.

“For the last time, Victor, I’m not thinning myself to make the shirt bigger. I told Monica I wouldn’t use my abilities and I meant it.”

“Yes but my wife would not want me uncomfortable, Reed, so do as I say.”

Reed’s sigh was cut short as he lifted his head, his older features softening into a smile that almost made Monica forget his awful tunnel vision that led to so much pain and suffering by the rest of his family--almost, because Johnny, Sue, and Ben were standing nearby, and all it took was seeing them to remind Monica why she was doing this.

“Sweetheart,” Sue’s motherly voice was warm and affectionate as she opened her arms for Monica, giving the smaller woman a hug that included a kiss to the top of her head.

“How are they doing?”

“Well they haven’t killed each other,” Johnny’s handsome grin moved into Monica’s line of sight as he stole a few kisses from her cheek before the cloak furiously flapped him away. “Ack, Stephen your cloak doesn’t share very well.”

“None of us do.” Stephen replied.

“That’s not true, I share Dick with Peter.”

“That sentence came out gayer than you wanted it to.” Ben grunted, those massive arms folded over his chest.

Johnny turned to flip him off. “It was exactly as gay as I wanted it to be, shut the hell up Boulder Butt.”

“Do you have another Big Shirt?” Sue asked teasingly, winking down at Monica as Johnny and Ben immediately started to protest being stuck in a shirt together.

“I sure do! Just say the word, Mommy.” Monica giggled, warmed when Sue pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“I’m really trying, sweetheart.” Reed’s voice and tone was genuine, and the hopeful smile he gave Monica sealed the deal. “I want you to know how sorry I am, so I’ll stay as long as I need to.”

“Doom does not apologize for his actions.” Victor started, before...shifting his iron shoulders, those villainous eyes nailing Monica to the spot as he turned to her. “...Yet if you’ve found any of my behavior...unjust, Wife, we can discuss it in private.”

“Hey, no, Doom has to apologize just like Reed does!” Johnny interjected.

“I will apologize to my wife, none of you idiots deserve to hear contrition from Doom.”

Monica was grateful she couldn’t blush, as the deference Victor was showing her was obviously special and something he just did not show anyone else. “I-I appreciate it, Doom, but you...you do have to apologize like Reed does or you two have to stay like this.”

Victor was quiet for a long moment, eying his beloved wife, before he squared his shoulders. “Doom will apologize after Johnathon apologizes.”

Johnny nearly burst into flames on the spot--as it were, flames were racing up his arms and spine in a desperate attempt to keep up with his temper. “Why in the hell should I apologize to you?!”

“My wife is likely this upset because you allowed yourself to be beaten to a pulp on a street corner. Once that has been rectified, Doom will apologize.”

“I’m going to light that stupid hooded cape of yours on fire--”

“I think they need a bit more time, angel.” Stephen’s scarred, but warm hand found the small of Monica’s back as he ushered her away from the growing squabble. “There’s one more person we need to check on.”

It didn’t surprise Monica that there were so many people in Big Shirts, and it also didn’t surprise her that she didn’t remember who this last pairing was.

“Naaaaate, come on!! Everyone else is doing it!”

“No.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Wade and Nathan were nearby, Wade trying and failing to get Nathan in a Big Shirt with him.

“Mommi said--”

“What babygirl said was that you shouldn’t have tried to fucking shoot me.” Nathan corrected. “And you wouldn’t have wound up with a face full of tranq darts.”

“If you get in this shirt with me, you’ll find up with a face full of--“

Stephen cleared his throat purposefully, but to Monica’s surprise kept them walking past Nathan and Wade. So they weren’t the last pair?

Oh. He didn’t say pair, he said person.

That dawned on Monica the moment she saw Maria Hill, sitting by herself, taking up one half of a Big Shirt. The former Director of SHIELD looked a little sad, if Monica had to be honest, and the expression changed only slightly when she looked up.

“Monica,” Stephen gently urged her forward. “Maria would like to talk to you.”

Maria cleared her throat, meeting Monica’s gaze with a look that could only be described as determined. “I know you haven’t seen me at my best, lately. And I wish I could tell you I’m better than what you saw, but...words don’t mean a damn thing. Actions do. And I thought at first maybe I could ask Dot or the Furies to vouch for me, maybe make it a little easier to earn your love and respect but Fury Sr. told me I wouldn’t have liked that. That it would mean more if I could show you who I am and you could find it in you to love me that way.” Maria took a moment to swallow, and she averted her gaze. “So...for tonight, would you sit here, with me, while you read? Give me a chance to show you that even if I fuck up, make mistakes, that I deserve a spot in your heart, too.”

Monica could feel the cloak around her seeming to perk up and look at her, to see what she would say, but Maria was looking at her again.

“Please.” Maria held up the other end of the shirt, and for a moment, Monica could see her fingers tremble. She was nervous. “Just give me a chance.”

Sometimes the fingers that pull the trigger get scared, too, and just need a hand to hold.

#{collection} : once a week #{theme} : for monica

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nctxnation · 5 years

Text

Enamor

➳ Pairing: Jaehyun x Female Reader

➳ Genre: Fluff/Angst | Best Friends AU

➳ Word Count: 3.3k

➳ “I am completely enraptured by him. Enamored by the idea of being loved by him.”

➳ Sequel to Crush

“...she really liked that movie, but I still think it was horrible! You would have hated it.”

“Mhmm,” You hummed in response, not truly capturing the words your best friend Jaehyun was telling you.

It had been a few months since you came to the startling, life-changing conclusion that you had a crush on your best friend Jung Jaehyun. No, correction, it wasn’t an intense, heart-stopping, tongue-swelling, cringe-worthy crush. No, it was an intense, soul-crushing, all-consuming love that had left you crushed.

It was currently a late summer night, the pair of you were laying under the inky, twinkling night and he was giving you a play-by-play of his date with his girlfriend Ji Woo. You found it ironic how just last summer your heart started thumping at the sight of him and now you were tuning out stories of his girlfriend, who you set him up with.

“Are you even listening to me, Y/N?” He asked exasperatedly, grabbing a bundle of grass and tossing it your way.

“Sure I am, go on, Loverboy.” You closed your eyes and listened to the humming of the night creatures, enjoying the coolness of the night air on your skin.

He sighed and you can hear him roll over onto his side, his breathing a little too close to your face.

“Can I ask you something?” The question was bringing back unwanted memories.

“You just did.”

“You’re so annoying,” Another bundle of grass was thrown at you. “Do you think...do you think Ji Woo and me are good for each other?”

Your eyes flew open and you turned your face to him, flinching at the close proximity of your faces. His breath fanned over you and for a moment, you lost your train of thought and your breath.

“Huh?” You eloquently added into the conversation.

He rolled his eyes, but continued, “I just don’t know if we’re going to last.”

“You like her don’t you?” You waited for his answer, your lungs weren’t taking in any air and you were afraid he’d have to call ambulance after you passed out from lack of breathing.

“I guess.”

“She’s your girlfriend!” You stressed, which honestly, made you stress to put an emphasis on those words.

“Well, yeah,” His eloquent commentary made an appearance, “She is my girlfriend because of you.”

“She’s your girlfriend because you told me you had a crush on her.”

“You’re absolutely right,” He twisted onto his back and heaved out a dejected sigh, “which really is my mistake in telling you and your mistake in meddling. You should have just minded your own business. You just had to be nosy.”

“Gosh, forgive me for wanting my friend to be happy,” You snapped bitterly pushing yourself off the ground and dusting off the blades of ripped grass off your shorts. “I should get going. It’s late.”

Jaehyun groaned, rolling off his back and standing up next to you. He rolled his shoulders back, flexing as he did so which caused your throat to constrict.

“Y/N don’t be like that,” His eyes drooped and his lips jutted out into a pout, “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed and I didn’t mean to lash out on you. Can you find it in your heart to forgive this cute idiot.”

“Fine,” You huffed out indignantly before a cheeky smile appeared on your face, “Who said anything about cute?”

“You think I’m cute just admitted,” He winked playfully at you, bending down to gather the empty bottles of lemonade and the wrappers of eaten chocolate left strewn across his backyard.

He had you there. You did think he was cute, handsome even, but you weren’t going to tell him that ever. He was your best friend and he was taken by a wonderful girl you know considered a friend. You had to move on, for the both of you.

“I say we should get this order,” Doyoung said pointing at one of the orders in the menu. “It comes with a lot. We can get two or three and feed everyone of you annoying losers.”

You were currently situated at a local restaurant with your group of friends. You were wedged between Doyoung and Jaehyun, whose body was too close to yours. You could feel the roughness of his jeans graze against your legs and the warmth that radiated off him was making you break out in a sweat.

“But I wanted something else,” Taeil whined snatching the menu out of Doyoung’s hands.

“Life isn’t fair,” Doyoung uttered staring down the eldest in your group, who was gleefully rifling through the menu. “We’re all broke. There’s too many of you idiots and you all eat like the world’s going to end, so we’re getting three of those family pack meals. So suck it up, Grandpa.”

“Who are you calling grandpa?”

“You’re right, I should respect my elders. Sorry, Gramps,” Doyoung grinned audaciously and blew a kiss at Taeil who was flopping in his seat with Johnny trying to hold him back. “I still love you though so don’t look at me like your plotting my murder.”

A peal of laughter came from somewhere in the group as Doyoung tried his best to kiss up to Taeil. Ji Woo’s sparkling eyes crinkled as she laughed at Doyoung’s antics. Doyoung glanced down sheepishly, a pleased smile on his lips that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“You’re so funny, Dongyoung,” Ji Woo stated, beaming at the blushing boy next to you and playfully flicking a rolled up piece of napkin his way.

Ji Woo had a habit of calling Doyoung by his full name. You were surprised at how close they had gotten throughout the past months, especially considering how much of an ice king Doyoung came off as at first. Although, that icy facade melted quickly when it came to Ji Woo, which surprised you considering he wasn’t the one to warm up to someone that fast.

“Let’s order before we get kicked out,” Taeyong interrupted, breaking the awkward tension that began to fill the table.

Your eyes flickered upward to see a grim twist to Jaehyun’s mouth. As if he can sense your stare, his eyes met yours and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes were hollow and he looked off-kiltered, he rapidly recomposed himself and flashed you a forced, tight smile. It was a second too late, you had noticed his perturbed acknowledgement of Doyoung’s and Ji Woo’s interaction.

You had all eaten and were enjoying a walk in the park. Ji Woo had claimed she had to go early due to her parents wanting her to babysit. The boys were playing soccer but you had insisted on cheering from the sidelines not wanting to get wrapped up in the aggression that came with their competitive streak. Jaehyun had volunteered to keep you company, which made your heart stutter at his sweet offering.

“You were awfully quiet back there,” You broached the subject you knew you should have avoided. You were curious about what he thought about Ji Woo’s flirty giggling and Doyoung’s cherry red face whenever she glanced his way.

The amber-haired boy picking at the grass next you shrugged indifferently, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. “I’m going to be honest with you, I sort of had inkling there was something going on between those two. I knew Doyoung was fond of her in a friend way, but I didn’t think he liked her.”

You bit your lip, trying your best to process everything and figuring out the best thing to say.

“He never said anything when I told him I was going to ask her out,” Jaehyun plucked a dandelion off the ground and gently placed it on your lap, “I mean, he was oppose to it, but I figured it was because--”

He stopped mid-sentence, as if catching himself before he spoke too much. His gaze flew to you, his eyes wide and mouth ajar.

“Because of what?” You prompted, taking the golden dandelion and reaching over so you could place it behind his ear. You ignored the erratic thumping of your heart as your fingers gripped the back of his neck. You let the dandelion caress his cheek, slowly making its way to where you wanted it to go. The action was intimate, so unlike you to make.

“I--” He faltered uneasily, licking his lips. His chocolate brown eyes wandered down to your mouth which was a mere centimeters away.

His ragged breathing was all you heard, although it was almost drowned out by the sound of your heart threatening to burst out of your chest. His eyes glazed over and his mouth fell open slightly.

You lodged the dandelion firmly behind his ear, brushing away a few strands of hair that was obstructing your view of his eyes.

“I...it’s nothing,” He swallowed thickly, inching closer to you as if he was expecting you to move away after you had successfully adorned his ear with the flower.

You stayed still, knowing you should pull back, but not having the strength to do so.

“Hey! Watch out!”

The moment was broken and you suddenly careened awkwardly, flopping onto your side as the soccer ball whizzed by bouncing off your leg. You giggled as Yuta jumped over your body, completely red-faced and out breathe chasing the ball and cursing out in Japanese. Jaehyun was anything but amused. He looked dazed, taking jagged breaths and shaking his head as if trying to get rid of unnecessary thoughts.

“Hey, woodland fairy,” Yuta groused hitting Jaehyun with the soccer ball, “Thanks for catching the ball for me. You really saved me that long ass run.”

“Be careful next time,” Jaehyun threw the ball back at Yuta who caught it fluidly, “You almost caused Y/N a concussion.”

“Lucky for us she’s got better reflexes than you and moved out the way,” Yuta griped, taking your hand and helping you up, “How about I buy you ice cream to make up for hitting you on the leg?”

“What about me?” Jaehyun gasped offended. “I’m the one that was seriously traumatized!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Yuta took the dandelion right out of Jaehyun’s ear, “This thing probably has insects why are you wearing it.”

“It does not,” You huffed out, “Leave it there, it looks pretty.”

“In that case,” Yuta gave you a brazen look, his lips curling up flirtatiously as he placed the flower behind your ear, “such a pretty thing should go on a pretty girl.”

You felt your face flush at his words. Jaehyun clenched his jaw as Yuta wrapped his arm around you and squeezed you tightly, laughing at your rising blush.

“Oh my God, Yuta,” Johnny chided as the boys all huddled around you in search of their lost player and rogue soccer ball. “You seriously need to stop flirting, now you’re even flirting with Y/N! Cool down, Casanova.”

“Someone’s gotta give this pretty flower a pretty flower,” Yuta grinned pinching your cheek teasingly, which only caused your face to heat up even more.

“It’s a dandelion,” Winwin deadpanned, “If you’re gonna flirt up a storm at least give someone a prettier flower.”

“I’ll give a whole bouquet of roses if that’s what you want,” Yuta blew him a kiss and he shuddered in disgust, “C’mon, let’s go get some ice cream.”

He tugged you away from Jaehyun, who’s eyes were blazing. Your amber-haired best friend kicked the dirt angrily as he walked behind the whole group. He knew Yuta was just playing around, he was the group’s flirt. You and Yuta were friends and this behavior wasn’t anything new. He always acted this way and Jaehyun knew he shouldn’t feel this fiery feeling bubbling inside of him.

It made him feel guilty, for one, Yuta was his friend and he knew he shouldn’t be contemplating breaking the arm he had around you. Two, he had a girlfriend to worry about and another friend who probably was harboring secret feelings for her and vice versa. Lastly and most importantly, you weren’t his. That didn’t stop the jealousy that bloomed inside of him as you beamed up at Yuta as he handed you your favorite ice cream.

He was completely enamored with idea of being with you, but that was far from happening.

It was nearing the end of summer, the night was slightly warm and the sky clear and bright. You were waiting on Jaehyun for your annual End of Summer movie night. You were shuffling through your collection of movies, when the doorbell rang.

Jung Jaehyun stood at your door, hair soft and wispy caught under the summer breeze. His eyes were illuminated by your porch light making them glow like honey and a tentative smile was on his rosy lips.

“Can we talk for a bit?” He tilted his head towards your porch swing. “I want to have a sane conversation with you before you rope me into Sixteen Candles.”

“I had to endure Die Hard,” You smiled up at him, leading the way to your porch swing. It dipped under the weight of you both.

“You know you enjoy that movie,” He rolled his eyes, nudging you playfully. He began to swing the porch swing, knowing it soothed you. “I broke up with Ji Woo.”

You gasped loudly, feeling your heart soar up your chest and lodged itself in the center of your throat, “What why?”

“Neither of us had our heart into the relationship,” He cast his honey eyes onto his dirty boots, scuffing the edge of a loose wooden floorboard nervously. “Both of our hearts were in different places.”

“Is this about Doyoung?”

“Partly,” Jaehyun admitted, he wrung his hands and you were tempted to hold them to ease his nerves. “He thinks it’s his fault we broke up. My heart just doesn’t belong to Ji Woo.”

The words that tumbled out of your mouth were nothing but a whisper being carried away by the low, summer winds, “Then who does it belong to.”

“You.”

In that moment, your soul left your body. It felt like an out of body experience hearing him confirm Doyoung’s words so many months ago. The confirmation that debunked all your agonizing thoughts as you laid up late at night, thinking about how Jaehyun hadn’t fought for you either. How he hadn’t fought against you pushing him to the wrong person.

But it didn’t alleviate any of the pain you felt. Truth is, you were terrified to hear him confirm his feelings for you. Yes, it meant that your feelings weren’t fully unrequited. He felt something for you too, possibly just as deeply and wholeheartedly as you felt for him.

However, it also meant there was a chance you could lose him forever. Taking that risk of moving past your safe friendship into unknown romantic territory that could one day end, would mean losing him. Those deep feelings you felt now could dissipate. He won’t always be so enamored with you and that thought made the blood in your veins turn to ice.

“Please say something, Y/N.”

You wanted to, but the words wouldn’t come out. Your feelings were swirling inside you, contradicting one another. You felt bliss, he wanted you after all, but also pain, you won’t always want you. No matter the outcome, you still felt crushed.

“For how long?” You croaked out, throat dry. “For how long have you felt this way about me?”

“For too long,” Jaehyun responded sincerely, taking the initiative to grasp your hand. “You were the source of my crisis. You were the one I had a crush on, not Ji Woo. I just panicked.”

“Doyoung told me,” You felt that it was only fair you were honest too, “The night of the dance, he said you had crush on me.”

He pulled his hand out of yours and pressed it under your jaw, “You knew I liked you and still let me be with Ji Woo? Why didn’t you fight for me?”

“We’re best friends, Jae, this isn’t how best friends should feel.”

“I don’t care,” He grunted, grasping your cheeks with both hands, “I don’t regret feeling this way, I don’t want it to change. I’m in love with you and I just need to know if you feel the same way.”

“Does it matter?” You took his hands off your face, breaking away from his strong gaze. “Maybe it was a sign. We both got crushed. It was bad timing. Maybe this was sign to stay friends.”

“Why are you running away from your feelings?” Jaehyun’s voice was smooth, but there was note of hurt that seeped under the lull of his baritone. “That’s what happened the first time, isn’t it? That was the reason you pushed Ji Woo to me.”

“I think unintentionally, yeah,” There was no point in hiding it now. “I kept trying to bury my feelings for you. I love you, Jaehyun, but I can’t accept your love.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“We’re only going to get crushed in the end.”

Jaehyun’s nonchalance was breaking, you were wearing his patience thin, “There’s no one in the world I’d rather risk this for. I don’t want to spend my whole life thinking ‘what if we had been great together’ or ‘what would have happened if we took that chance’.”

“I’m scared, Jae.”

“Me too, Y/N,” He took your hand in his, playing softly with your fingers. “I thought my feelings would go away, but they didn’t. I’m in love with you and if you’re willing to give me a chance, I know you won’t regret it. You can never lose me, even when we’re not some annoying enamored couple.”

“You can’t possibly promise me that,” You felt the tears start to prickle your eyes, “but I think not being with you hurts more. I’m in love with you, Jung Jaehyun. I’ve got this big massive crush on you, happy?”

“Is it completely tongue-swelling, cringey, and heart-stopping?” He teased, his grin as bright as the moon above. “I’m madly in love with you. This is beyond crush zone.”

“Enough to date me?” You giggled. “Or are you to scared?”

“Like, I said, this is deeper than a crush,” He leaned his head onto your shoulder and breathed the flowery scent of your shampoo, “Doyoung is right we are stupid and oblivious.”

“He says that too often,” You said pulling him closer, “Will Ji Woo be okay?”

“She practically yelled at me to come declare my undying love for you and that it was about damn time.”

“Oh.”

“I think we can finally put your meddling skills to good use and set up two pairs of actual crushes together. So, how about it Matchmaker?”

“I thought you weren’t into that gross lovey-dovey stuff, Valentine’s Boy,” You jabbed, smiling as he laughed beside you. The sound made your heart flutter.

“I think I’m finally owning up to the title of Valentine’s Boy, but I’d prefer Cupid,” He turned his face to you, his eyes gleaming, “Plus, I’ve already said I’m in love with you and confessed my whole heart out. I’m as mushy was it gets now.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Now can we continue what Yuta rudely interrupted?” He was putting on his best flirtatious look, which made you want to laugh. Jaehyun never had to try, he was naturally someone you felt compelled to.

“You mean me putting flowers in your ear?” You bite your lip, stopping yourself from bursting out laughing.

“No you, dork, let’s finish our moment.”

You pressed your lips to his, relishing the feel of their softness and the taste of cherry chapstick stayed on your tongue. It felt like you had complete the final mission of a video game. You were ecstatic, Jung Jaehyun’s lips were on yours and your hands were tangled in his hair.

The pain you had felt in your chest was gone, washed away with all your worries. He loved you back. He was just as enamored as you were and it wasn’t just a silly crush. You had been wrong, not all crushes left you crushed.

Some brought a light in your life that only love could bring.

Author’s note: I felt this was slightly rushed, but I wanted it to be short and sweet. This is for our birthday boy and hope all you Jaehyun lovers are ready for another angsty Jaehyun fic, but this time he’s a vampire and your just a regular human who kinda hates him.

#neowritingsnet #jung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #happyjaehyunday #jung yoonoh #jaehyun #jaehyun x you #nct jaehyun #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct fanfic

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