#perhaps you can give him a simple stupid sandwich
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White Day
Yes, I know it’s no longer Valentine’s Day, but even still, please take this “last-minute boyfriend Chishiya” x Female Reader oneshot from me.
I hope you like it :)
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There was something different in the air. The news stand in the hospital lobby had been giving out heart shaped balloons in a spectrum of colours; the cafeteria had introduced a limited time only “dine for two, for the price of one” deal; over the last few weeks, pink and red cards had mysteriously appeared on his colleagues’ desks. It could only mean one thing. It was that time of the year.
White Day.
‘Chishiya-sensei, I have something for you.’
Chishiya had been sitting at his desk when a nurse popped into the office. On the neighbouring desk, his colleague Haru looked up with unusual interest. The nurse sashayed over, holding out a white envelope with the words, “Dear Chishiya-sensei, from your SA”, written on the front in cursive handwriting.
The nurse blushed and waved a hand. ‘It’s not from me, just so you know. They wanted to give it to you on Valentine’s Day instead, but they didn’t want to come forward. I’m just the messenger.’
He took the envelope and thanked her as politely as he could. She left the room with a blush and an excited smile, whilst Haru wandered over, looking at the envelope over Chishiya’s shoulder.
‘A secret admirer, huh?’ He remarked, as Chishiya opened it up and pulled out a gaudy red card with a glittery pink heart on the front.
‘Unfortunately.’
Chishiya scanned through the contents inside. It was the typical spiel, probably carbon copied from a rom-com somewhere.
‘“I’ve liked you from the moment I first saw you,”’ Haru read out. ‘“It’s embarrassing to admit, but you make my heart flutter.”’
Before Haru could irritate him further, Chishiya shut the card and tossed it into his desk drawer. He had no intention of ever displaying it on his desk, and if he threw it in the rubbish there was a chance one of the nurses would see it in the dustbin and his calm, collegiate reputation would be tarnished forever.
Haru smiled and drifted back to his own desk. ‘You know, it’s cute that you actually got a card.’
‘You can have it if you want.’
‘Pff. As if I’d want your leftovers,’ Haru scoffed. ‘That’s just sad. Is your girlfriend not big on the whole Valentine’s and White Day thing?’
Chishiya stilled. He twirled a pen between his fingers as he thought about it. It had only been five months since they had been together, and on Valentine’s Day she had presented him with a box of homemade caramel chocolates. But how did she feel about White Day?
‘I’m not sure,’ he said.
Haru grinned as he flicked through a report on his desk. ‘Girls go crazy for this kind of thing. I got in trouble one year for not giving my girlfriend flowers. I did get her chocolates though, so I don’t know what the issue was.’
Chishiya was bored of the entire concept. The holiday itself was simply inane - a large, collective headache that peer pressured people to spend stupid amounts of money in shops and restaurants. ‘Perhaps the issue was that you needed a new girlfriend.’
Haru sucked in his breath as he scribbled something down. ‘That’s harsh, even from you.’
All day, Chishiya ignored the White Day celebrations. He paid no attention to those stupid heart shaped balloons, even when patients entered the ward holding one. When a small box of chocolates appeared on his desk from a coworker, he gave them to Haru, who scoffed them down during a five minute break. Since he had nobody to eat with, he didn’t have to bother with the “dine for two” deal in the cafeteria, opting instead for a simple meal deal. And because most of his colleagues had taken advantage of the offer, he was able to eat his sandwich in the peace and quiet of the office, sipping his hot coffee and stashing the green tea Kit Kat he’d bought into his pocket as a snack for later.
In fact, the day passed uneventfully. But all that changed right as he was approaching his car, when his phone vibrated in his jacket pocket.
“Can’t wait to spend some time with you tonight! (Please don’t throw me off when I hug you, let me enjoy today.)”
The text message was accompanied by three emojis; a heart, a bow and arrow, and a rose.
Chishiya’s hand froze around the door handle. He considered the message calmly, although it had caught him unprepared. At the time, he had ignored them, but now Haru’s words from earlier rang through his memory.
“I got in trouble one year for not giving my girlfriend flowers.”
Trouble. What did trouble entail? An argument… a cold shoulder… even a break up. Surely not over something as ridiculous as a commercial holiday. But Haru was now single. It was still a possibility.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, he revved up the engine and headed out of the car park. If he was lucky, he would have just enough time to stop by a supermarket. Driving into town, he pulled off at the nearest supermarket, only to discover that the cut flower section was empty.
‘Sorry Sir.’ An employee bowed to him. ‘It’s White Day you see, so we sold out earlier.’
Tired, and growing more and more irritable by the second, Chishiya tried three more supermarkets and mini-marts, only to find the very same issue no matter where he went. It was ludicrous that supermarkets couldn’t keep up with the demand. Was White Day so important to people that they hoarded all the gifts they could find?
Empty handed, he strolled back to the car, considering his options. He could simply own up and explain that it was his first time doing this holiday, and he didn’t think it was all that important. But would it result in an argument? Possibly.
Then his eyes drifted over to a steep, grassy bank just next to his car, where a collection of wildflowers and daffodils were scattered around. An idea came to him, so swiftly and suddenly that he couldn’t believe he was even considering it.
But it was the only idea he had left.
Checking the car park to make sure there were no witnesses, he stepped over the low metal fence that ran around the car park, and entered the grassy bank. His foot instantly sank into a patch of mud and he cursed the soil that caked into his shoes.
This idea was pathetic, and still, here he was. He grasped a handful of daffodils along with a some wildflowers, all of which he couldn’t name, and meandered back over the fence to safety. He glanced around. Thankfully, nobody had been around to see him stoop this low. Then climbing into the driver’s seat of his car, he hid the evidence by gently sliding the flowers into a half-filled water bottle that he’d found in the drinks holder. It would keep them alive until he arrived home. The flowers weren’t exactly twelve red roses, a necklace, or anything glitzy, but they were certainly better than nothing.
A little more satisfied, he slid the key into the ignition, only to hesitate once more.
“I did get her chocolates though, so I don’t know what the issue was.”
Chocolates.
Hindsight was truly a wonderful thing. He had foolishly given away those gifted chocolates to Haru. Although the label on them did say “Dear Chishiya-Sensei”, so it would have been obvious where they had come from. He also didn’t want the shame of strolling back into the mini-mart, having forgotten to check the chocolate section.
And then he had a brainwave. A terrible brainwave, but it was something nonetheless. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the green tea Kit Kat from his lunchtime meal deal. He was going to look like an idiot presenting something like this, however his options were limited. And it was his own fault. He should have asked her what she wanted long ago to avoid being caught short last minute, just as he was now. Placing the tiny Kit Kat on the dashboard so that he wouldn’t forget it, Chishiya pulled out of the car park and headed home.
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You were in the kitchen, sipping a glass of red wine as you dispensed the evening’s leftovers into a Tupperware container. You weren’t really too bothered by all the Valentines and White Day shenanigans, but you had tried to put in a little effort with plenty of wine and a home-cooked meal.
There was just one problem. Chishiya was even more stoic than usual. All throughout dinner, his expression was unreadable. Well, he was always unreadable. But tonight, he seemed preoccupied by something he refused to share with you, no matter how many times you had tried to pry.
Dumping all the dishes into the sink, you stared at them pensively. Your back was aching from working all day, and it was a shame to waste the evening hunched over a sink. Really, it would be better to wash them now. But still…
‘Leave them for tomorrow.’
You turned, realising that Chishiya had been lurking by the kitchen door all this time. In one hand, he was holding a bunch of wild daffodils mixed with some wildflowers which, although delicate and beautiful, you couldn’t quite name. They weren’t wrapped or tied with anything, and it looked as though Chishiya had plucked them from a field himself. It would certainly explain the grass on his shoes when he came home. You carefully took the flowers, inspecting the various blooms.
‘Shuntarou, what are these?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s White Day.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ You touched the petals of a mysterious pink wildflower that looked similar to an Anemone. ‘But where did you get these?’
‘From a car park,’ he said.
‘The hospital car park?’
Straight faced, and without a hint of shame, he replied curtly, ‘No, it was outside of a mini-mart. They were growing nearby.’
It took you a good minute to process what Chishiya had just said. That he had picked flowers from a car park. That somebody as proud as him had gone wandering through the grass to pick wildflowers. The mental image it produced was just too comical to believe. And if that wasn’t enough, he reached into his pocket and produced a Kit Kat in a green wrapper, presenting it to you.
‘Chocolate,’ he said as you gingerly took it. ‘I saved it from lunch.’
There was something about Chishiya’s bizarre actions and his deadpan nature that caused you to double over, unable to contain your laughter as you clutched the sweet wildflowers and the Kit Kat. It was only when you noticed Chishiya watching you with uncertainty that you finally stopped, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes.
‘I’m sorry.’ You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He stiffened in your embrace, but then you felt his hand on your lower back, keeping you close. ‘I actually love green tea Kit Kats, it’s just that I didn’t expect anything.’
‘Your text,’ he muttered beside your ear.
Some of the petals from the flowers had caught in his hair, and you tried not to giggle. ‘I wanted to make dinner for us, and I wanted to spend time with you.’
He pulled away slightly, and you took the hint, stepping back and placing the Kit Kat on the kitchen counter. As you arranged the wildflowers in a small jug, Chishiya was staring at the ground, somehow even more guarded than before. You filled the jug with water and set it down on the windowsill. Tomorrow at dawn they would look beautiful.
‘I don’t really care about that stuff,’ you reassured him. ‘It’s a commercial holiday anyway.’ And with a gentle smile, you reached out and fanned your fingers through his blond hair, showing him the pale pink petals that had been caught there. ‘And besides, those roses don’t usually smell of anything. I like these flowers better.’
The Kit Kat still lay untouched on the counter, so you tore it open and snapped it in half, offering Chishiya a piece.
‘It’s yours,’ he said.
‘And I’m choosing to share it with you.’
He reluctantly took the chocolate and together, you finished the Kit Kat bar. Swallowing, he said, ‘I ruined my shoes for those flowers.’
‘Well, I still appreciate the pain you went through. You could give me anything and I’d still love it.’
‘My shoes are by the door,’ he said. ‘Help yourself to grass.’
‘Don’t ruin the moment, Shuntarou.’ With a roll of your eyes, you picked up your abandoned glass of wine and leant against he door frame, taking a slow sip of the decadent red liquid. ‘Especially since I had another surprise for you.’
Something shifted in his expression, burning with a quiet intensity. ‘Is that so?’
‘Mm…’ you said, fingering the stem of the glass. ‘You should probably come and unwrap it… upstairs.’
The air simmered with longing as the two of you looked at one another. Wordlessly, he followed you out of the room as you led the way upstairs. And even though this was White Day, and he was supposed to be lavishing you with gifts, you knew that he would find some way - a very special way - of making you feel at one with heaven.
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#audio#my art#infomaniac#shitpost#uberduck#lego island#miles o'brien#star trek tng#wont you give him food?#perhaps you can give him a simple stupid sandwich#i dont know how i couldve have replicated o'briens face with the infomaniacs face#thats the best i could do babes#i laughed REALLY hard while making this#every thing he pronounces is so good
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The Maid Café || Saiki K x Reader
summary: nendou and kaidou keep pestering saiki to visit their favourite maid café but he shuts them down every time. however, after a bit of prying they manage to convince him to give the place a try and while they are there, you just so happen to be on shift.
tw// cussing, maid café, (she/her) reader
key:
“non italicised text” = somebody besides Saiki speaking
“italicised text” = Saiki telepathically communicating
‘italised text’ = Saiki’s thought
‘Of course Nendou and Kaidou would be into maid cafés of all things — not cat cafés, not internet cafés — it just had to be maid cafés.’
Saiki’s internal monologue began as Kaidou continued gushing on about the cute lady he met at the café a few days ago as an argument to why Saiki should join them next time they go. Not to say Saiki wasn’t listening as he felt extremely sorry for whatever lady had to tolerate Kaidou’s advances and his prayer went out to her but besides that, he really couldn’t care less about the maids or the café.
Until, his attention was involuntarily aroused at the vocalisation of his name from Nendou, “Saiki’s definitely in for Friday, I’m pretty sure I sold him when I told him that the sandwiches there are almost as good as the ramen we usually get.”
‘No, you didn’t. I won’t be coming to join you on Friday. I’d much rather stay--’
Somehow Kaidou managed to cut off Saiki’s internal monologue with his annoying voice, “Don’t be silly, Nendou. You’re not going to win Saiki over with such a ridiculous comparison, one that he clearly doesn’t care about.”
‘Am I delusional? Is this a hallucination? Or did Kaidou just say something logical and based in reality?’
Kaidou’s aura immediately changed to dark and sinister as a mischievous smirk crossed his face, the background squawks of the crows suddenly became much louder for some unknown reason. “Instead, you must locate your opponent's weak point before you can recognise the crucially important moment to exploit it. The process takes patience but it is one I have learned from my many years rebelling against Dark Reunion. Now, young Nendou, watch and learn.” He finished with a dramatic flip of his school jacket which was slung over his shoulders as a cape.
‘What was all that about?’
Saiki wondered before Kaidou turned to him, much less brooding than he was a few seconds ago, and said casually, “Your loss if you don’t come, Saiki — you’ll be the one missing out on some of the best desserts in our whole town — not to mention the coffee jelly.”
✿✿✿✿✿
‘How do I always end up losing to these people? I am a psychic for god’s sake!’
Saiki mentally cursed himself out as he stood shamefully in front of the maid café, wearing a carefully curated outfit — including his germanium ring — created especially to hide his identity from anyone from his school that might pass by the café and spot him in there through the window or something. Honestly, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a maid café, or so he thought.
However, all the reviews he read along with both Nendou and Kaidou’s thoughts helped him conclude that this place’s coffee jelly and general dessert selection is nothing to sneeze at. In fact, his favourite Tumblr blog - DeadlyDesserts11037 - visited the place and gave it a 5 star review, recommending everybody who happens to pass by the town to definitely check the place out. After that, he was sold.
Saiki looked over at his friends and couldn’t help but facepalm in response to their bright red, thrilled expressions. “Good grief, please don’t tell me you are both that excited over ladies in maid outfits.” As you might’ve guessed, Saiki didn’t really understand the concept of a ‘maid café’, so he simply assumed the male obsession with maids had something to do with the objectification of women hence he obviously did not want to take part.
“Saiki, you’re seriously just built different if this doesn’t touch your soul.” They both brushed the pink-haired boy’s comment off, completely mesmerised by the sight of a particularly pretty maid-lady walking by the window — probably on her way to serve a table — carrying a notepad in one hand and a plate with a scrumptious-looking coffee jelly on top.
Saiki followed their gaze, his breath hitching at the sight. He was speechless; no sarcastic comment, no running commentary, nothing. Just..woah! If he had known that the girls that work at this place were so gorgeous and the food looked so delicious, he would’ve came a long time ago.
He wasn’t even sure which one he wanted more; the girl or the jelly. In a way, one wasn’t complete without the other because the coffee jelly which she held high next to her head brought out her (E/C) eyes while her shapely figure highlighted the defined curves of the jelly. Drool was quick to start forming at the corners of his lips but he was even quicker to wipe it away; he was starving.
“We’re going in.”
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To Saiki’s dismay, it was not the stunning (H/C)-haired girl who he had caught a glimpse of through the glass that ushered them to their table. Rather, it was a slightly less gorgeous maid-lady who had long, bright purple hair which was clearly a wig.
Fortunately for him, after she left Kadiou, Nendou and himself to take their seats, she rushed off saying that someone will come take their orders whenever they are ready.
Even with his psychic abilities, there wasn’t much he could think of to alter fate so the pretty coffee-jelly lady would end up serving their table, and besides that, he was way too caught up in gawking at all the mouth-watering desserts they had pictured on the menu.
Simply glancing over the menu brought a stupid grin to his face, he wanted to try every delectable treat presented in front of him. However, he knew he must exhibit restraint, which was fairly simple as he knew deep down there was only one thing on the menu that he was truly after. You guessed it — coffee jelly.
Usually, he couldn’t care less about what his friends comrades were going to order but in this case, he was tempted to try convince both Kaidou and Nendou to order something he liked so he could take a bite of whatever they were having, “What are you two going to order?”
Yet again though, he was ignored as Nendou and Kaidou were both too busy checking out other types of snacks to care about the ones on the menu.
Then, a movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention so his head jolted from the menu to his new target, the beautiful girl he had saw through the window earlier. Previously, she was holding a coffee jelly but now she was basically empty handed, until she approached the table and pulled out a notepad and pen, “May I take your orders?” She asked in the most calming, melodious voice Saiki had ever heard, the sounds that left her mouth were nothing short of angelic. Which made sense since her serving their table must’ve been god’s gift to Saiki for all his hard work.
Chills, Saiki got literal chills before he mused, “A coffee jelly, and two brownies for the pair of clowns.” His blood ran cold; curse his smooth sarcastic comments! Most of the time, he was able to filter himself but due to the nerves that arose while talking to you, he probably shouldn’t be surprised that he had a little slip of the tongue. But now, you probably think he is a bitch that insults people on the regular; which he is, but not usually aloud! Plus, he couldn’t even tell what you were thinking due to his germanium ring and your distant expression, awful combo!
While he was in the middle of feeling bad for himself and considering teleporting away home, a miracle happened, you burst out laughing. And somehow, your laughter was even more silvery than your voice.
Saiki had zoned-out from pure shock for a moment before coming back to reality, noticing that you had started jotting down something in your notepad, a sweet smile still lingering on your face despite the fact you had stopped laughing. “Alright, so one coffee jelly and two brownies. Anything else?” You asked, glancing back and forth between the three equally unique and strange men sitting at the table.
“That’ll be all, thank you.” Saiki telepathically communicated as he usually did, considering actually using his mouth to speak for a change so he didn’t seem weird but in all honesty, he couldn’t be bothered. In any other situation, he would’ve gotten a drink of water or perhaps hot cocoa but right now he was way too afraid of making another error in his speech to request something else.
Silently, he extended his arm to hand you the menu he was given when he entered the café, along with the ones Kaidou and Nendou were given too. His actions single-handedly shooting down your plan of leaning across the table to ‘take the menus’ but in reality it is just a subtle way of showing-off how nice your torso looked in this maid outfit, a trick you learned from your supervisor.
You nodded, closing over your notepad and making your way over to the kitchen, being sure to swing your hips just a little bit extra to impress the pink-haired megane at the table you just took an order from. You mentally cursed your stupid brain though for always crushing on guys/gals who don’t seem the least bit interested in you. In this case, the guy’s attention was divided between his star-struck friends and the desserts on the menu, rather than you which was an unusual sight in a maid café considering that most people would only come to ogle at the waitresses.
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“So, Saiki.” Kaidou finally landed back into reality after a large chunk of the waitresses roaming around were now in the kitchen which he didn’t have viewing access to, “What did you order us?”
‘So, he was fully aware that the waitress came to take his order, he just chose to ignore her and left me to order his food. What a child, it must be a side-effect of his eighth grade syndrome.’
Saiki couldn’t help but sigh, “I ordered you both brownies.”
Kaidou stuck out his bottom lip to form a pout as he crossed his arm over his chest like a toddler, “I hate brownies.” He muttered to himself, realising that if he wanted something done right, he’d have to do it himself.
An amused smirk tugged at Saiki’s lips but he resisted the urge to laugh, ‘I know.’ He thought, his masterplan to eat more food without looking greedy falling into place. “Oh well, more for me then.”
Suddenly, Nendou spun his head around to abruptly join the conversation, “Hey guys, did you see the hottie that was serving our table?” He inquired with starry eyes, as if he was a kid in a candy store.
Saiki nodded, ‘Obviously I did, you moron. I was the one who ordered the food for goodness’ sake!’
Kaidou shook his head, his eyes lighting up as he leaned in close to Nendou, “Nope! I was busy looking at the other girls, but tell us!”
Nendou chuckled at Kaidou’s enthusiastic reaction before glancing to the side, outstretching his arm and pointing at the waitress that was now approaching the table with the food in her hands. “There she is!”
‘Don’t point at her, you idiot!’ Saiki mentally insulted his friend but instinctively followed the guidance of the tip of his finger until his eyes landed on your shapely figure — accentuated by the nature of the maid outfit — slowly heading toward his table, holding the coffee jelly and the plate of brownies in the same graceful way you did when he saw you through the window.
The gleam of your gorgeous hair, the movement of your luscious lashes, the gentle bounce of your upper body, how your perfectly manicured nails clutched the base of the jelly glass; everything about what he was seeing made him believe that if/when he were to die, this would be his ideal first sight as he passed through the gates of heaven.
Before he knew it, you had reached the table and placed his jelly down on the table, gently nudging it towards him, “One coffee jelly for the cute boy with antennas.” You mused, making Saiki’s heart flutter in a way he was unfamiliar with. Then, you placed the brownies in front of Kaidou and Nednou who sat opposite from Saiki, “And two brownies for the clowns.”
If it wasn’t for the fact the pair of clowns were too busy leching over you in your maid outfit, they’d probably be curious as to your choice of words but luckily for both you and Saiki, they were way to entranced by your visible bra strap to care about the little nickname.
Saiki felt a light blush creep onto his face, which only got worse as you discretely sent him a playful wink before turning on your heels to stroll back to the kitchen, “If you need anything else, just give me a wave.”
All of them hummed agreement in unison until the waitress was out of sight, giving Saiki a moment to process the events that had just went down. Not only did you refer to him as ‘the cute boy with antennas’ but you also winked at him, if that wasn’t a clear sign you were interested, what was? However, Saiki still had his doubts since this was a maid café after all, perhaps you were just trained to do that with all your customers.
Luckily, the had the foresight to slip off his germanium ring to read your mind and that helped him come to the conclusion that you were either interested in him or you were just very competitive as the whole time you were serving the table your thoughts were along the lines of;
‘I’ll adjust my skirt- Ha! You looked! Try resist falling for me now, you hot lil’ megane! Your heart is mine and I know it! See, I’ll fidget with my corset too-- just make a move already, pinkie!’
Although he didn’t appreciate being called ‘pinkie’, he had no right to judge what was going on in your brain. All he could do is be thankful that you didn’t say that aloud.
✿✿✿✿✿
You sighed as you noticed the pink-haired boy and his little posy exit the establishment without so much as a goodbye, or even a wave!
It was disappointing as you had already mentally planned your future with this guy and he had the audacity to do the real life equivalent of leaving you on read. But oh well, it would be approximately a week until you developed a crush on a random customer that lasts for around 30 minutes and for the time being, you can focus on doing your job.
You glumly shuffled over to their table to gather their plates to be washed, then a piece of colourful paper attached to the empty jelly glass caught your eye. As you held up the glass to inspect it further, you realised that it was a sticky note with a message written on it in black ink and neat, cursive handwriting. It read:
‘Dearest waitress,
Thank you for the excellent service, we (myself) tipped accordingly.’
You hadn’t finished reading yet but you were curious as to what he meant by that, and apparently you service must’ve been exceptional as the writer had left a whole ¥2000 tip. That’s a huge addition to the demonia fund.
Followed by this charming little message was an extra tip for you; the writer’s phone number! Meaning that this little sticky note was something you had to protect with your life..so you shoved it in your bra for safe-keeping.
But not before taking a moment to giggle with delight at who the note was signed by,
‘Sincerely, the hot lil’ megane (aka Kusuo Saiki)’
#saiki no psi nan#kusuo saiki x reader#the disaster of psi kusuo saiki#the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki k x reader#saiki x reader#saiki headcanons#saiki k headcanons#kusuo x reader#saiki kusou no psi nan#kusou saiki x reader#saiki fluff#saiki k fluff#saiki k oneshot
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scenario request: enemies to lovers au! w atsumu, ✨ thank you 💛
paper daisy chains — miya atsumu
5.5k words | genre/s: fluff, a little angst, enemies to lovers!au | warning/s: language, lots of arguing | pairing: atsumu x gn!reader
↪︎ in which three hours of detention leads to your hatred for your former best friend to fall apart all due to a kiss
a/n: you had me at enemies to lovers anon 😏 ngl tho this is not my best work considering i procrastinated on writing this and i needed to post something today ✨
in a mere afterthought—after everything had gone to shit already, it was then you had some forming recuperation of the situation you were in despite always finding a chance to snake your way out was no longer in your hands. so, perhaps you could have handled the situation a little bit better. emphasis on ‘little’ as there was very little you could do about your absolute hatred for miya atsumu and that sly grin on his face.
it wasn’t like this before–this messy relationship between you and atsumu. if anything, you were the bestest friends in middle school, by each other’s side like you were stuck together with glue. yet a single assumption ruined it all, tearing everything down into nothingness.
did you sometimes yearn for things to go back to the way they were before? the simple answer was yes, but your pride would never let atsumu know.
“as for you (y/l/n) (y/n), atsumu is now sporting a broken nose after you punched him during lunch.” the principle states matter-of-factually which earned a quiet scoff from behind you.
despite not standing directly next to you, atsumu was still far too close for your liking as his right shoulder often brushed against you at every small and sudden movement. you could practically feel his breath grazing the exposed part of your neck. however, you couldn’t exactly blame the setter no matter how much you wanted to as both your teacher and his coach had sandwiched you two together.
“disrespectful little swine that one.” inarizaki’s coach grunts loudly towards you, “you oughta teach that one a lesson before she hurts my starting setter again before nationals!”
you flashed the man a toothy grin as you grit them together. he always had an odd way of speaking, “yes, of course, it’s completely my fault for defending myself.” you deadpanned with your own sarcasm of poisonous venom, surprising almost everyone in the office—everyone except atsumu of course. if anything, he’s the only one still smirking in amusement while all the adults had their faces all contorted.
however, his eyes did widen a bit as he looked at you the moment you smirked up at him with proud delight written across your pretty face.
your teacher cleared his throat, elbowing you slightly in the ribs discretely. “my student didn’t mean that, sir.” he excuses, quickly giving you a warning look as a sign for you to apologize.
“i’m really sorry,” you weren’t sorry.
the principle simply smiled at your scornful apology that left your lips in the most condescending manner. he then switched his gaze back to the atsumu’s coach who has been arguing against the old man for a good fifteen minutes on only punishing you and not atsumu as it ‘wasn’t his fault,’ but you hadn’t been listening. why would you, anyway? in the end, you were going to get the short end of the stick once again with atsumu getting away with everything. from his annoying teases to his backhanded compliments that caused him a blow right on his nose in the first place will never be called out.
enter atsumu’s twin, osamu, through the office doors. to your surprise he (in a way) defended your case by saying that atsumu was provoking you all day. so, you and atsumu were both in the wrong. then again, that’s what happens between two enemies since middle school.
“based on what osamu has said, i have no choice but to give them both detention.” the principle concludes, “atsumu and (y/n) will be on cleaning duty in the library for the time being.”
“if you don’t mind me commenting,” the coach exclaims, drawing himself up to perhaps argue for the umpteenth time again, “atsumu has volleyball practice to—”
the principle immediately cuts him off, “there’s nothing i can do about it.”
“can’t he serve detention after nationals?” he tries to express once more but is cut off yet again.
“then that goes against our policy of having no behavioral issues in order to go on field trips.”
“then it is decided,” your teacher confirms with a nod. even he was getting a bit tired on this back and forth. “i’ll make sure both students will report to the library the moment the final bell rings, sir.”
great.
there was always something unnerving about the after school noon at inarizaki as you teetered on the edge of boredom and monotony. and that’s saying a lot considering you spent the majority of your time after classes secluded in your own room or wandering the streets of hyogo by yourself instead of going to club activities. you’d come to think that maybe, in the absolute inevitability that for once atsumu’s company would be much better than being alone, but you were wrong. so incredibly wrong.
you would much rather stay locked up in your bedroom all day than be stuck mopping the library floors and dusting off the shelves upon shelves of textbooks and novels.
a sigh escapes from your lips as you bring your gaze up to atsumu on the other end of the aisle, his tall figure reached at the tops of each book shelf as he dusted them off haphazardly while you too care of the bottom layers. it was understandable though as the task was not only tedious but simply counterproductive. the shelves were going to get all dusty again weren’t they? granted, punishment was punishment no matter how futile and impractical.
the library’s fluorescent lights had created shadows upon atsumu’s face, creating deep grooves and shadows upon his jaw and cheeks that perhaps you didn’t think he looked absolutely repulsive for once (even with the bandage on his broken nose).
you lift yourself from your crouched position and brushed any lingering dust off of your uniform, which at this point was a bit unkempt from the light labor you were forced to do. approaching the preoccupied setter, the rag within your hand was tossed back and forth between your left and right.
however, your eyebrows furrowed as you stopped only a few feet shy away from atsumu who should at least be sensing your presence at this point. he always had a knack of being aware of where you were and honestly you found it plain creepy. your gaze fell upon the rag in your hand, shrugging to yourself before chucking it at atsumu’s face.
the setter’s expression contorted slightly in confusion as the piece of cloth smacked him on the side of his cheek before falling onto the floor. his gaze followed the rag before turning his stare towards you.
“i’m bored,” you sighed out in a mutter with little to no emotion coating your words.
“me too,” he replies, crouching down to pick up the rag before tossing it to you lightly. you caught it within your hands as you feign the look of surprise on your visage. you honestly expected him throw it as hard as he could, but he didn’t. “the faster we get this done the faster we get to go home–or whatever you do after school like wander around hyogo or something.”
you nod, yet curiosity stroked you. how would he know about that? gently placing one foot in front of the other, you steered closer to the boy. “and how would you know i do that everyday after school?”
it was then, you could finally feel the striking tension between the two of you. as if it was heat emanating and merging simply from the proximity you two were standing, a beat had passed again the moment you confirmed that whatever answer atsumu was going to give you would be complete and utter bullshit.
“just to make sure you were safe,” he mutters so nonchalantly. something so out of his character, especially for you would obviously be more alarming than a simple shrug and a brow raise.
your arms braided over each other, your gaze hardening by the second. “safe?” you repeat in disbelief that was accompanied with a scoff, “that’s rich, miya, anymore shitty lies you want to tell me before i could ruin that pretty face of yours again?”
a smirk had fallen on his lips as he flickered you an entertained look. “so, you think i’m pretty?”
you roll your eyes, turning your back towards him. you knew talking to him was a stupid idea and if only your teacher didn’t force you to try to make amends during detention with him, you wouldn’t have to feel your brain cells deteriorate every time you look his way. so much for taking sensei’s words into consideration into making friends with him again when your patience was being tested every five seconds. “whatever,” you scoff for the umpteenth time as you going back to your previous spot.
“the thing is, what i said just then wasn’t a lie.” he concludes while his eyes follow your figure to the other end of the aisle, “but, it’s not like you’d believe me or care for that matter.”
you’re right, i don’t. you thought to yourself, and yet you were still taken aback from the sudden ardor in his tone. it was less of atsumu’s usual bite from his arguments and more of a laceration to the skin, near rather than cutthroat despite both being some form of verbal wound. one hurt more than the other and you were sure atsumu was holding back.
“and what makes you think that?” you question.
atsumu shrugs, “nothing really groundbreaking.” he pauses as his eyes fall upon your expression of nothingness as for once he couldn’t find the right words to say. on the tip of his tongue laid words that would definitely hurt you and that hollow chest of yours, and usually he wouldn’t care just the same as you wouldn’t, yet something was stopping him.
come to think of it, this was one of the rare occasions that you and atsumu were actually alone together. nothing but the confines of the library bookshelves to obstruct you and your enemy. if anything, you and atsumu are constantly surrounded by others who are aware of your mutual resentment towards each other. hell, the only reason why your name was even as near popular as atsumu’s was because you had beef with him that was never serious in the first place. even after the numerous altercations you had since middle school with the blond boy, it was always him who provoked you.
it was almost as if you only kept up your act because that’s all you’re known for in this damn school. and you hated it.
“just the fact that you hate me is the biggest reason.” atsumu adds.
a sarcastic laugh emitted from you as you turned back towards him. you were well aware how priceless your expression looked, all muddied in disbelief and annoyance. “the feeling’s mutual.” you seethed through your teeth, stopping yourself from suddenly dumping fuel to a slow building ember. you had dirt on atsumu, but so did he and you had to be careful in order to play your cards well.
yet atsumu was already one step ahead of you, “you know hiding you emotions and feelings isn’t very healthy, is it?” he evoked. it was starting again and you knew it—from the way he inched closer to you and the way he held that godforsaken smirk on his lips again.
this guy was really asking for it wasn’t he?
a chuckle leaves your lips as you fully face him, your skin pulsated with arising anger, you couldn’t wait for miya atsumu to pull your final strings so you could finally land a punch on his face again. “it’s not like stalking someone after school is any better,” you hissed in the same venom. “i heard that shit can go on your permanent record if you were caught following someone. who knows, miya, maybe you’ll be surprised one day when you’re kicked off the volleyball team all of a sudden—”
“that’s hilarious coming from you, (y/n), you piece of—” atsumu had cut himself off in the midst of his retort, pursing his lips together as his hardened gaze suddenly dropped. “whatever,” he scoffs before turning away.
he let out a frustrated sigh as he attempted to walk back to the other end of the bookshelf so he wouldn’t have to look at your widening smile of provocation on your visage—slick with the taste of ash and synthetic amusement. it covered you in a downpour of emotions, most of which (if not all) were just synonyms of anger and acrimony. your tone was almost elated, drenched in salty irritation that couldn’t wither. you waited for him continue his words knowing damn well he could hit you with something stronger, something that can hurt more.
atsumu had to admit that he wasn’t as nearly as tough as you, though. you were someone that grew up surrounded with constant thunderstorms of a family and had a chest filled with bruising epiphanies waiting to be spewed out if anyone were to ever fuck up. it would’ve been best if he stepped himself away knowing that you both had no crowd to entertain, and yet there was an aching within you that wanted atsumu to continue whatever insult rested on his tongue.
pull that string, miya, i dare you.
“whatever?” you miffed, testing the waters you knew was tainted in tension. “no, please continue what you were about to call me, miya. i’d love to hear a new rendition.”
the setter shook his head as he couldn’t bring himself to meet the fury in your eyes any longer. “i hate how it had to be you,” he muttered under his breath.
“what was that?”
atsumu shook his head, “nothing.”
detention was flying by slower than you had hoped.
within the first hour, you and atsumu had finished all the work assigned simply due to the fact that keeping yourselves busy on opposite sides of the library was best for both of your mental health.
two hours left of detention and boredom was dangerous for the likes of you two. now that you were both situated at the array of desks, it was common sense that some form of dispute between the two of you were bound to happened despite being separated and sitting at your own tables.
stupid atsumu, you thought. he really thought he was sly trying to sneak glances at you every five seconds like he was just waiting to get you riled up. what was his problem anyway? you thought that atsumu was the one who stopped himself from making matters worse earlier but it seems like he wanted to start something again.
you ignored him like you usually do. you were far too busy making a second pair of paper daisy chains and you needed the utmost focus cutting out each individual paper daisy to string into a faux flower crown.
atsumu had some audacity thinking he could keep throwing glances at you when you literally had a pair of scissors in your hand.
“keep staring and you’ll lose all of your piss-blond hair,” you deadpanned. you didn’t even bother to look at him as you were too preoccupied in your latest craft activity to fight your boredom.
however, it wasn’t atsumu’s fault that you were a complete enigma to him. he hated the way his friendship with you ended up like this after one big misunderstanding. sure, the first signs of your wavering friendship on the cusp of the big chasm of hatred you both created started in the middle school, but it truly formed in your first year.
granted, it wasn’t like he was wrong for worrying about you. he thought you were in danger last year when he thought you were getting involved with terrible people and simply reporting any suspicious behavior was his best way to go. the report was anonymous, but after you received the news, you were immediately suspended for a week all because of him. atsumu wasn’t going to negate the fact that perhaps it was his fault, but despite his numerous trials and errors of apologizing to you, it turned into nothing but heated arguments that led to your relationship now. all jagged and broken.
the topic has been taboo since.
atsumu’s gaze left yours, scoffing under his breath as he rolled his eyes. why did it have to be you? it wasn’t like this before, but you were all well aware how stubborn you two were.
you were an absolute wildfire that couldn’t be contained and atsumu was constantly treading over fresh embers that threatened to ignite at any form of friction. he was tired of always having to be careful around you, especially now that you broke his nose, yet he still wanted for things to be different.
“here,” your voice interrupts the tense silence as you toss him a finished paper daisy chain. it landed on his crossed arms, raising an eyebrow of confusion when he picked it up. “give that to osamu.”
atsumu was a bit perplexed to say the least, but he simply sighs to himself before gently placing the flower crown over his temples. “why osamu?” he knew damn well why, “i think it looks better on me.” he mused.
“you look hideous with it on,” you scoff, “besides it’s for your brother for a reason.”
“cause you like him better?”
“no doubt about it.”
(can you believe you liked atsumu more than osamu back in middle school?)
the setter shrugs, “too bad, you gave it to me so it’s mine now.”
“no it’s not, you don’t deserve one.” you say as you stand from your chair that screeched against the dark oak flooring of the library. you try to reach for the flower crown on atsumu’s head, but his hand snatched your wrist before you could grab it.
atsumu’s adams apple bobbed up and down when he realized how close you were, “let. go.” your voice was hushed, yet still spat out your infamous venomous tone.
but he didn’t let go.
“aren’t you tried of it?” atsumu brings up instead.
“tired?”
“of this,” he continued before motioning to each other, “of us having to act like we hate each other everyday?”
you feigned a scoff, yet you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes to the absolute bullshit coming out of atsumu’s mouth right now. “i’m not acting.”
“well i am,” remarked atsumu before a millisecond could even pass, “i’m tired of having to act like i hate you all the time.”
it was then it seemed like something just cracked within you. lies, lies lies, everything was a lie with atsumu—from the moment he ruined your trust last year to every altercation, big or small, that happened until this point was nothing but lies. you swallowed a lump of pride, fear, and anger collecting in your throat as you let out a huff. “your lies are becoming progressively shittier, you know that right? i don’t need your sorry excuse of sincerity.”
you tugged at your wrist again, this time harder for atsumu to finally let you go, but he wasn’t budging. it wasn’t like you to admit this either, but it was starting to hurt.
“too bad i’m not lying.”
a sigh of frustration left your lips as you felt your anger suddenly swell within you. bottling up your emotions until they exploded was something you were explicitly good at and you could feel the bile rising in your throat, burning you along with words that threatened to spew out of your mouth. “what the fuck is wrong with you? you think that saying that bullshit now is going to make up everything that had ever happened between us?”
“no, I just—”
you didn’t bother to let him speak as you cut him off, “your volleyball fangirls harass me everyday for treating how i treat you, not mention i get constantly watched on like a hawk because of what you did! you made me lose my parents trust after i got suspended and i can’t even go out freely anymore! the only reason why i wander around hyogo alone after school is because that’s the only time i can have to myself since my parents think i have club activities—”
atsumu didn’t mutter a word as he waited for you to continue. he knew there was more inside you yearning to finally be verbalized and he was ready for it to come his way.
“you think i’m acting like i hate you out of pettiness, but that only proves how self-centered you are atsumu,” you huffed, not bothering to pull your wrist out of the setter’s vice-like grip anymore. “for once, i did consider finally letting this whole thing between us go and make amends, but not like this—not when you just keep fucking up and digging yourself a bigger hole.”
a few beats of silence passed between the two of you as you felt the heat rising within your slowly deplete. even atsumu’s hand on your wrist had loosened up a bit, sending a wave of relief within you knowing that you had a chance finally walk away.
“so you’re tired too?” the setter suddenly interjected.
here we go again, you thought with a dejected sigh. “can you—”
his hold around your wrist suddenly tightened again, but not as harsh as before. “answer my question.”
“no.” you pursed your lips together.
“liar.”
“atsumu, please—”
“listen, i’m really sorry about what i did.” the setter expressed, hoping the sincerity in his voice was reaching you. “what i did was fucked up, but just say the word and we can stop everything right here.”
“let go,” you muttered in between, but atsumu only continued.
“no more arguments, we could go back to how we were before or we could start over again—”
“i said let go!”
it was then atsumu’s grip left your wrist and caught your face in between his hands and leaned in.
it wasn’t like this was your first kiss, but it certainly felt like it. granted, this was the first time you kissed some you hate—or rather, someone you’re supposed to hate. you’ve kissed numerous people before, all of which were fueled with nothing but boredom and was nothing more than a simple peck. and yet, this was everything out of the ordinary. you were kissing miya atsumu for fuck’s sake and for once there wasn’t a clear instinct in your body to move away fom him.
your mind blurred so much that the confusion written all over your expression and in your head was muddied by the roaring of your heartbeat. perhaps it was the way atsumu had managed to somehow run his hand from your face and through your hair while the other gently caressed your cheek as if this was how it was supposed to be for ages. it certainly didn’t feel like some cheap thrill atsumu had devised as the way he pulled you closer to him felt like a missing puzzle piece finally being placed.
and for once, you didn’t feel absolutely disgusted when he touched you like this.
it was then when the bandage on atsumu’s healing nose tickled the bridge of yours had suddenly pulled your out of some dream-ridden euphoria. as if it was a reminder that this is what you did. the person who was supposed to be your best friend turned into your enemy after one misunderstanding. he hurt you once and that was the most he did, and yet it only made matters worse when you’ve come to the realization that all of atsumu’s quarrels with you was far less hurtful than what you ever said. they were all for the same reason and that reason was how he felt for you. the feelings had been simmering within him since middle school was finally revealing itself and you’ve been throwing it away for so long.
you didn’t deserve this type of love.
the swift beating of your heart was no longer from the burning sensation of atsumu’s lips against yours, but rather the adrenaline of every single worry tucked in the confines of your head were coming out of their shadows all at once. no matter how intoxicating a forbidden kiss like this felt, you were suffocating beneath the drowning ocean of the unspeakable.
your swollen lips, all tinted red parted slightly before biting down on atsumu’s lip.
“shit!” he suddenly exclaimed, suddenly pulling away to touch the bleeding wound on his bottom lip.
you took this chance to finally get away like you always did. and to your surprise, atsumu didn’t follow you into the labyrinthine aisles of the empty library for once. perhaps this was the one time you were glad that you and atsumu were alone in this huge room as it at least saved you from any humiliation of whatever the fuck just happened.
the inkling within your gut felt familiar, but too peculiar to fully comprehend. yet, with the blush that stretched from your cheeks to your ears still at it’s fullest opacity to the loudness your heartbeat still thumping against your chest and in your ears, it was obviously what the feeling was.
this can’t be happening.
you let out a sigh.
fifteen minutes. that’s all that’s left of the three hours of detention and after this, you were free from the confines of the library walls that suffocated you.
just fifteen more minutes before you can leave and avoid atsumu for the rest of your life. after those fifteen minutes, you would no longer give two shits about inarizaki’s setter and he could no longer confuse you anymore. and all you needed to do was wait in the most obscure corner of the library that most wouldn’t even go to.
the thing is, it was genuinely a good plan, but lately you’ve come to the conclusion that you had been underestimating atsumu for such a long time. this was one of those moments where you believed he would leave once detention was over, and yet he made sure to go through each and every aisle of bookshelves only to find you with your nose stuck in a book to keep you occupied. you didn’t even see him at first, but atsumu was glad you didn’t as he spent a good five minutes forcing himself to stop blushing just by your presence.
and to your (quite unfortunate) luck, here miya atsumu was now—approaching you in all his broken-nosed glory. it certainly didn’t help the fact that this entire time, you couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. it was the way he spoke about his feelings for you via the sparks from the sudden excursion that had your heart blossoming out of your chest even an hour after it happened
atsumu plops himself next to you, yet still leaving enough room that you wouldn’t run away from him again. his arms rest over his knees as he picked at his nails in uncertainty, as if he was treading over thin ice and a single misstep would eliminate any progress that was created between the two of you. “we’re free to go in fifteen minutes,” his voice was gentle, yet hesitance laced it to soften it a bit more as you didn’t even spare him a glance. “...just to let you know.”
there was no response from you. a simple nod was a good enough answer even though you weren’t obligated to. if anything, you feared that atsumu could hear the wavering in your voice when if you did say anything verbally. you hoped just by a simple nod would be a sign for him to get up and leave you alone in your furrowing thoughts, but he just sat there. in the deafening silence and the flipping of the pages of your book, he stayed for you.
atsumu wanted to make sure you got home safely and not do anything stupid. he knew what you were capable of especially after something out of the ordinary transpires (see: the kiss from earlier).
you had to admit that maybe you didn’t care that he was right next to you anymore. before, you would always yell at him to leave you alone or give you space, but for once his presence felt comforting to you (you wouldn’t confess that for you the life of you, though). you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the heat rising in your neck again.
(he did end up noticing)
the setter cleared his throat then, his fingers still playing with each other to spare him from the awkwardness. “are you okay?”
you huffed, “i knew you were an idiot, but i didn’t think you were this stupid.”
there it was, atsumu thought. despite the severity of your response, he couldn’t help but feel a smile creep on his lips knowing that you were at least talking to him. throughout the past year, he had come to realize that having you throw insults at him was better than not talking at all. granted, you wouldn’t even spare a single breath to someone you truly hated and not give a shit about. so if anything, you being mean to him was a sign that you think of him as something more than a stranger.
it was an odd case of stockholm syndrome, atsumu had to admit.
“is it because of the kiss earlier?” he asked, yet you didn’t utter a word. rather it was the sudden bursting of red tinted ears and burning cheeks stopped you from forming proper words. you would never get used to this feeling. “if it makes you feel any better—”
“just shut up about it,” you hissed as plunged your face deeper into your book. atsumu seeing your tomato-red face was the last thing you wanted as you shooed him away, “i don’t want to hear it.”
a chuckle left atsumu as he took the book out of your hands, loudly slapping it shut that the impact of paper hitting one another echoed throughout the library. it forced you to look at him in the eyes as he smirked at your expression. he hasn’t seen a look of embarrassment on your visage before and he found it adorable. “if the next words that come out of your mouth is to forget about the kiss ever happening, i’ll do it again and make sure you remember.”
your jaw tightened slightly as you peered your eyes at him, “fine.” you affirmed, “it did happen, but it meant nothing.”
“well, it meant something to me.” atsumu countered, not even noticing the way he leaned in closer.
it felt almost impulsive the way your emotions just crumbled before you. with the sense of betrayal between your mind and your heart had you dragged into the tide of finally giving into the guy you’re supposed to be hating. it felt criminal the way you even let your eyes flicker back down to his lips that was still a bit swollen from last time.
it just had to you, huh?
“i hate you,” you say before pulling him his tie towards you.
the kiss was slower than last time, deeper even. you were sure this was how serendipity felt like, sweet against your tongue like marmalade and soft like feathers with the way atsumu was trying to chase that euphoria when he made his way down your jaw. the ghost of his lips left trails down your neck and to your collarbone before recoiling back to your lips. you tasted like mocha and atsumu already found himself addicted to it.
“miya! (y/l/n)!” the advisor in charge of detention’s voice suddenly thundered throughout the library, forcing you two to pull away from each other. “detention ends in five minutes! the hell is this? daisy chains?” he suddenly interjects before letting out a loud scoff. “if i don’t see the rest of the trash from these tables thrown away, i’m giving you two another after school detention next week!”
a disappointed sigh emits from you as you and atsumu make your way back to the other end of the library. you hoped the exchange between the two of you wasn’t too obvious as your lips were all pink and your uniform disheveled.
the advisor gave you two a look before turning away to leave the library. humiliation struck you then and atsumu couldn’t help but laugh.
“i’ll make sure osamu gets his paper daisy chain.” the setter reassures playfully as he snatches both flower crowns from the table and hands the other to you.
your hands brush together as you take it from him, muttering, “you can have it if you want.”
“what was that?”
“nothing,” you say as you make your way towards the library’s entrance, “i said you look like a cunt.”
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu x reader#atsumu x reader#atsumu imagines#atsumu scenarios#miya atsumu#atsumu fluff#atsumu miya#atsumu hcs#hq atsumu#haikyuu atsumu
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— insubordination
pairing : eren jaeger / fem reader
word count : 5.7k
tags : porn w plot, eventual smut, angst-ish
warnings : nfsw, non-con/extremely dub-con, impact play, descriptions of blood and injury, ooc eren being very mean
summary : you were nothing in his eyes, and he was nothing in yours. that's how it was meant to be, that's what commander hange had assumed when they assigned you such a simple role. but people are unpredictable, and sympathy for the wicked can make you do some pretty stupid things.
— originally posted 1 / 4 / 21 on ao3 —
this task was arguably your least favorite part of the day.
it was too quiet, eerily silent when you walked down the steps, and that one uneven brick always seemed to trip you up when you weren't looking out for it. balancing the dishes on the serving tray also wasn't the easiest, and it was all the more demeaning when he would be waiting for you by the bars, eyes as empty and uninterested as ever but still fixed on your every movement.
you were a soldier, not a waitress, and a part of you wondered why they didn't just make the marleyans do such a belittling task rather than force you to lower yourself down to such a level three times a day. but you knew it was because he'd be less hesitant to strangle the life out of any non-paradisian before he'd go after someone from the island, and you had enough self defense training to withstand any escape attempts he might make.
but eren jaeger seemed docile when he was in his cage, and that fact eased you just the slightest bit when you descended the stairs to his cell that day, toting a sandwich and a glass of water on the tray for him. you thankfully caught yourself before you tripped up on that uneven last step, breathing out a little sigh of relief about not having to deal with split food and broken dishes along with the humiliation of screwing up such an easy task. you didn't want to give him another reason to look down at you, another excuse to see you as even lesser than he already perceived you as.
he didn't seem to care much for a select few from his graduating class, and you seeing that you were trained with the 106th training corp, you hadn't had any sort of direct interactions with him until you were assigned to bring him his food for the day. at first, commander hange had insisted on doing it personally, but as the workload increased and the luxury of free time dwindled, the duty was passed onto you.
you had honestly been terrified when you first faced him, hoping that those bored yet sharp green eyes didn't catch the way your hand trembled when you fit the key into the lock, opening up the slot in the door that was just big enough to slide the tray and its contents across to him. he didn't say much, no hellos or thank yous exchanged, just a brief glance at your face and a muttered "you're new" as he took the tray to his bed and sat, silently eating his meal and sliding back the tray and empty dishes for you to take back up with you. and that was how it usually went, no fuss from either end, just a silence that was barely occupied by the scrapes of his utensils on the plate and the occasional clearing of his throat.
you expected another quiet interaction as you stepped across the old brick floor, keeping an impassive expression even after seeing that he was waiting for you at the bars, wearing nothing besides a pair of trousers that sat low on his hips. you ignored his uncharacteristically intent gaze, setting the tray down on the ground and fetching the ring of keys from your uniform, struggling to not let your eyes wander over him.
something felt different, an unusual feeling of trepidation that clung to you as you picked out the right key, unlocking the serving slot and slipping it back into your pocket. besides his evident lack of a shirt, there was nothing odd about today, nothing that should make you feel the agitation that was creeping up your spine. you swallowed down your nerves as you set the tray down like you always did, sliding it over onto his side of the bars. he always seemed much taller when he was up close like this, and even with his relaxed posture he still towered over you. his robust frame only served to make him more intimidating, muscles flexing beneath the pale skin littered with past scars. you didn't expect to feel the warmth of his fingers brushing over yours when he reached out to take the tray, suppressing the flinch that threatened to make you jump away from his contact, looking up to meet his steady gaze.
"thank you." he said, the slightest of smiles perking up at his lips at the sight of your surprised expression.
despite having the tray in his grasp, he didn't pull away from his place before you, drawing a few fingers down the side of your hand, not taking his eyes off of yours. you gave a gentle push of the tray, urging him to take it, not wanting to back down from what you assumed to be a test of your courage.
"hurry up and eat, jaeger. i don't have all day." you told him with much less authority than you would've hoped, but felt the smallest bit of pleasure from how he blinked at you, most likely not expecting you assertion.
"you know, you can call me eren."
that was the last thing he said before he let his gaze fall to the tray, warmth receding as he took his meal to his bed to eat. that was the most words you'd ever said to one another, arguably the most startling encounter you'd ever had as well. he seemed almost happy to see you, any show of emotion besides indifference was magnified by how rarely it appeared, but you reminded yourself that this was no reason to let your guard down. in fact, this was only more reason to keep a closer eye on him.
he could be planning something, you wouldn't put that kind of scheming past him, you'd heard the murmurs across your unit about how isolated his desires were from the greater good of humanity. he'd lashed out at his superiors as a cadet, he'd rebelled against the judgement of the former commander, fought the levi ackermann for selfish, narrow-minded reasons.
but, really, couldn't he escape whenever he wanted? freedom was just an injury away for him, he could shift into his titan form whenever he pleased and completely demolish the cell and everything above it, run off to see whatever corner of the world he wished to or murder whomever he had on his hit list. perhaps he was merely toying with you, the boredom of isolation driving him to tease the soldier who'd never once gotten the chance to see past the territory just outside the walls despite being a scout. you were surprised that he hadn't gone crazy from being locked up in a cell with just a bed, a sink, and a small barred window, not even a journal or a book for entertainment, although he was unhinged enough to have to be held here, so you assumed that it somehow balanced out in some odd way.
you told yourself to just take a deep breath as you stood by and waited for him to finish his meal, chalking up his behavior to him being an eccentric man with an endless amount of free time in his hands. he didn't speak any more when he passed back the tray and dishes, only offering another faint smile that didn't quite meet his eyes before returning to his bed, allowing you to latch the lock once more and make your quick exit up the stairs, thankfully out of his sight and not dropping anything when you tripped up on that uneven step.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"eat with me."
he didn't react to your incredulous look from behind the bars, steady stare staying trained on your face, fingers brushing just over your hand. it took you a moment to find your voice. "no."
"why not?" he replied easily, either entirely unaware of his aloofness or intentionally putting up the front of detached confusion.
"you're in there for a reason, eren." you said, giving a gentle push forward to the tray, "now eat."
it had been just over a week since your first conversation, he'd made no attempt to initiate another in the following days until just now. but he wasn't showing the hint of contentment he'd allowed to peek through on his features the last time, just the cool, uncaring demeanor that you'd become accustomed to as he delivered such a ridiculous request.
"i don't want to eat alone." he persisted, punctuating the sentence with his own nudge of the tray back to you, "what could i do? even if i tried to escape, the guards outside would catch me before i made it far." there were no guards outside, but you didn't tell him that. "you'll have wait on me to finish anyways."
you didn't reply back, not wanting to speak and risk him hearing your voice wobble, or let a nervous stutter slip. you found it strange how his displays of humanity were more startling than when he lacked them, the image of his more mechanical self that you'd grown used to, the one that you were alright with leaving in a cell alone for days, being shattered by the slight smiles, the naivety that came in him even thinking that you would comply with his desires.
"i could stand away from the door if it'd make you feel better, you don't even have to sit next to me. i just.." he turned away, lips turning down in an almost sheepish frown. "i just want to feel like someone is in the room with me."
you were almost afraid of this new emotion from him, having to force your brow to not knit into an expression of surprise and your mouth to not fall open at this incredibly unfamiliar territory. you felt that you were good at reading people, good enough to sniff out most false claims and facades that were put up by the people you were close with, but you weren't close with him, not in the least. all you knew of him was his name, his designation, his special abilities, and that he seemed to like soup the best, considering that he always finished the fastest on the days you brought it down for him. how convenient that you had a bowl for him today, alongside a small loaf of bread and the usual glass of water. but looking over his face, you couldn't help but feel your resolve crack just the slightest bit at the sight of him.
it made sense that he was getting lonely down here, the only people that were allowed to speak to him were you and the commander, and seeing that no one had gotten reamed for making an unauthorized visit, you were sure that the small group he was acquainted with weren't sneaking out to give him some company. and there seemed to be genuine emotion gleaming in his usually dull eyes, cheeks and ears flushed with a soft red that warmed his features, a kind of reaction that you found to be hard to fake. you didn't exactly lose sleep over his imprisonment, but you weren't a monster, you didn't discount the mental toll that this kind of solitude could have on a person.
"move away from the door."
the words slipped out of you before you had a chance to think about them anymore, slightly eased by the fact that he actually followed your order and stepped back as far as he could. you picked the ring of keys out of your pocket, finding the one that unlocked the door to his cell and slowly pressing it into the keyhole, letting out a small breath of alarm when you heard the inner mechanisms unlatch.
you couldn't help the way your eyes darted over to him, half expecting him to come running to shove past you and make a mad dash out of the barracks. but he stayed right where he was, not moving even as you pushed open the door and stepped in, trying not to turn your back to him for too long as you eased it shut and tucked the keys back into your pocket, taking his tray and setting it at the foot of his bed like he always did before returning to your place at the door, giving a small nod to let him know he could move.
he was relaxed as ever, nearly smiling to himself as he took a seat, as opposed to you, who's back was stiffened into the straightest your posture had been in weeks, clenched hands that were becoming clammy with sweat. you knew exactly why you were getting so worked up over being on the other side of the bars that had giving you that sense of security now only giving you the sense of being caged in with someone who was really more of a stranger to you than anything. but he seemed more than pleased to have you in his vicinity, and the look on his face eased the chill rattling up your back, threatening to make you look more like a cornered animal more than a stoic soldier.
he was halfway through his soup when he reached for the bread, raising it to his lips to take a bite before he stopped, glancing over to you with a sudden intrigue. you watched as he broke it in two, not minding the crumbs that fell down onto his shirt and lap, holding the larger looking piece out to you. "here. it wouldn't be fair if you just had stand there and watch me enjoy my meal."
if your eyes widened in surprise, he didn't react to it, only adding a slight wave to his outstretched offering. you forced your foot forward, nervous to approach him but wanting to accept what felt like a sort of peace offering, a wordless assurance that he meant well. for the first time, his mouth drew back into a smile, a full, genuine, almost charming smile when you took the bread, hoping he didn't catch the way your fingers trembled as you stood there, unsure of whether to focus on the warmth of his gesture or taking a bite like he seemed to be expectantly waiting for you to do.
you didn't realize how dry your mouth was until you bit off a small chunk, chewing much longer than you usually did before you swallowed it down, not tasting anything but feeling your heart skip at the sight of his happiness. you retreated to your place at the door, finishing off the bread, watching him quickly wrap up his own meal and get everything back in order on the tray. he didn't usually do that either.
you felt an uncomfortable squeeze in your chest when he stood, gathering the tray in his hands and walking up to you with slow steps. he made sure to keep a good distance away from you, probably not wanting to give you any reason to be anymore afraid that you already were. you took the tray when he held it out to you, and he stayed holding onto it with you just a moment longer than he needed to, gleaming eyes wandering over your face in that little bit of time before he released his grasp, stepping back to where he originally had when you first entered and mimicking your small nod to tell you it was alright to go.
you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips, a shy, nervous little close-lipped smile that came with the blush darkening on your cheeks, nudging open the cell door with your foot and exiting without a problem. and as you fished the key ring out of your pocket and found the right one to slide into the keyhole, he took a seat at the foot of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, gazing up at you as you secured the lock back into place.
"thank you."
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
you found yourself going into his cell a lot more often than you probably should've.
the first couple days you stood at your place by the unlocked door, seeing how with each passing day you exchanged more and more words, the conversations becoming less stiff and hesitant. you only went in at lunch, since in the morning there were a lot more people milling about after breakfast, and in the evening the guards that stood outside by the stairs actually came to ensure he didn't get out during the night. the afternoon was the only time where everyone had already gone to their designated workstations, and besides the stray person or two that happened to pass by during that time, no one was around to catch your massive insubordination of orders.
you'd eventually began to sit at the foot of the bed, the tray putting a comfortable distance between the two of you as you chatted. he would offer you bites of his sandwich, or a piece of his bread like he did the first time you shared a meal, always giving you a little something despite your insistence that he kept it for himself, saying that "it would be unfair to starve his guest". speaking casually was surprisingly easy, passing stories of your training days and your initial struggles with omni-directional movement gear back and forth, letting him tell you about his time across the ocean and appreciating how intently he listened to you lamenting about the severe lack of exposure you had to the world outside the walls.
you couldn't admit it to anyone else, but you had begun to grow fond of him. the initial expression of cool apathy completely melted away when you were with him, the features of his face which you had initially found stern becoming somewhat handsome when he was giving those little smiles, a breath of a chuckle when you said something he found funny, or the focused expression he would take on when he nodded along to the stories from your childhood you had to offer. perhaps under different circumstances, you might've even wanted to see if things could go further than easy banter between two friends, biting your tongue when you thought about slipping in something about how he could be your guide when you could finally go out and see the world.
there was no way they would keep him in here forever, the effort to cover new ground and widen the army's frontiers was going swimmingly from the looks of it, so maybe there'd be a day in the future where you could walk about with him, away from the brick of his cell and without the bars separating you. that thought had been especially nice to think about as you sat on your calves across from him on the bed, your half of today's bread nearly gone as you listened to him talk about what he would get up to when he was a child, running around his hometown by himself and trying to sneak into taverns to catch a peek at the barmaidens.
"you know, there was this one particular girl that i remember being head over heels for," he mused, pausing to lick the bit of soup that had swiped across his lips from his last spoonful, "one time she came to my home for my father to check out her arm, said she'd gotten grabbed by one of the more unsavory characters that hung around those bars. i was so angry i almost went out looking for him myself."
you giggled a bit at the mental image, a wide-eyed little boy with the big dream of saving his childhood crush from the evil world. "isn't that sweet?" you quipped with a smile, quickly eating the last bite of bread in your hand and dusting off the crumbs onto the floor, "what'd she look like? she had to be beautiful to catch your eye." you tried not to let your disappointment in letting that slip show as you waited for his reply, mentally noting to have a bit more verbal control the next time.
"well, she actually kind of looked like you."
you felt your face pink at that, trying not to show your embarrassment as you cleared your throat. "r-really?" that was all you could manage, only feeling even more flustered by the slight grin he gave.
"really. you're obviously not identical, but there are a couple of things that remind me of her when i look at you." he shifted his position a bit, the space between you narrowing as he leaned over the tray to get a better look at your face. "your eyes look like hers, a different color, but the same shape. and you have the same freckle right here."
he pointed to the place on your face, finger inches away from you but still the closest you'd ever been to touching aside from the light brushes of your hands when you passed the tray to one another. "and now that i'm really looking, you both kind of have the same hair."
he was much closer than before, both of your knees at either end of the tray because of how it'd been pushed, realizing that you yourself had been unconsciously leaning forward. the warmth of his hand brushing across your cheek was a bit startling but definitely not unwelcome, thumb catching a stray lock of hair to tuck behind your ear.
"yeah.. you do." he murmured quietly, but you were more than close enough to hear it, able to pick out the brighter flecks in his brilliantly green irises, feeling his soft exhales fanning across your lips.
you couldn't believe you had let this happen, let yourself end up like this with the man you were supposed to just bring food to and guard from a distance, but at the same time you couldn't pull away, couldn't force yourself to part from the now low-lidded eyes gazing at you with such an unreadable depth, just barely obstructed by the hair that had slipped out of the messy style he had it drawn up in today, full lips parted and just a breath away from pressing onto your own. and so you let your eyes fall shut, feeling his hand slip further into your hair, fingers working deeper into it like they were meant to be there. but instead of a kiss, you felt his grasp in your hair suddenly tighten, barely able to let out a small gasp of pain before he drew your head to the side and smashed it into the brick wall next to you.
pain exploded across your skull, white spots blotting out your vision when your eyes flew open, unable to hold yourself up when he threw you down on the bed, already feeling the warmth of blood seeping out of the broken skin. you could faintly hear the clatter of metal and the smash of porcelain on the floor when he kicked the tray to the ground through the ringing in your ears. your first attempt to speak came out as almost a wheeze, mouth numb with shock as you tried to force your leadened limbs to move, writhing uselessly as he began to wrestle off the belt of your jacket, flipping you onto your stomach as soon as it came undone and ripping the jacket off of you with one strong pull to the collar.
"hel—help !" you wailed almost incoherently into the empty hall, knowing for a fact that no one was there but hoping there was somebody, anybody that could possibly be wandering past the building outside would come to save you.
all your combat experience meant nothing now that he had you sprawled out under him, straddling you as he tied your hands behind your back with your own belt, laughing coldly at every half-hearted squirm and small sob that left you. the wound on your head sent an unbearable ache through your entire body, beginning at your temple and searing through every nerve, each rough jostle from the body on top of you only adding to the pain.
"thank you for being such a kind guard," he drawled, audibly shaking your jacket to figure out which pocket the keys were in, "you really are great company, and such a sight for sore eyes."
your spotty vision was only further obscured by the tears that were now dripping onto the sheets. "p-please, d-don't hurt me..!" you cried, seeing him toss the jacket down on the floor, most likely having pocketed the keys for himself. he hauled your hips up by the waistline of your trousers, seeming to take joy in the way you whimpered at the strain you felt in your arms.
"do you really think you're in the place to make demands?" his voice was dripping with arrogance, breath hot on the back of your neck as he spoke into your ear, "the one who was stupid enough to fall for such a simple trick? the way i see it, it's almost like you were asking for this to happen."
you furiously shook your head at that, ignoring the way each thrash sent an ache echoing through your skull, teeth clenched in pain as you tried to force the words out. "n-no.. please, n-n-no—"
he didn't care much for your frantic tears or stammered pleas, already tugging your pants and underwear down around your trembling legs. "but you're worth a few moments of my time, all stupidity set aside. you really do look like that lovely barmaiden from my hometown." he paused to grab at the soft flesh of your exposed thighs, spreading you open as far as your position allowed it to, revealing the wetness of your involuntary excitement. "and look at that, already all nice and wet, just for me."
another pained sound escaped when he firmly grabbed your hair again, keeping the side of your face pressed into the bed, barely allowing you to hear him undo the zip of his pants and the ruffle of him pushing them down. he thrust into you without warning, drawing a hoarse whine from the burn of the sudden intrusion, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted to try and steady your strained, uneven breaths.
"relax, relax." he demanded, nearly growling as the heel of his palm pressing down on the back of your neck.
it wasn't as if this was your first time, but the people that you'd been with before we're always gentle with you, patient, asking infrequent but sincere "are you ok"s and "you're ok, right"s that quelled any unease about being in such a vulnerable position. but the hazy calm you'd had begun to associate with sex was completely absent in this moment, the empty space instead filled with the hiccuped sobs that refused to stay down in your chest, the throb of your bleeding scalp that was only worsened by his large hand grasping a fistful of your hair, beginning to clump with sticky red blood that was just starting to soak into the white sheets of the bed. you couldn't understand why that fear that was permeating through you, the peril that gripped your racing heart so relentlessly, the thought of not knowing whether you could assure your survival or not was only making you more and more excited for him.
he had taken up an unforgiving pace, driving small, broken moans from your lips, tense muscles gradually relaxing to accommodate all of him. it was wrong, you should've been fighting right now, keeping up your screams for help, anything to prove to yourself that you wanted to escape, but you found that it felt so terrifyingly good to give up under him.
"eren.." you barely managed to enunciate his name before your words devolved into more breathless whines, pins and needles pricking at your now numbing fingers that were losing circulation from your bindings.
"fucking pathetic," he spat, free hand moving to abuse your clit with rough, uncoordinated rubs, "you're just fucking begging for it, aren't you?"
he punctuated each abrasive word with a deeper thrust into you, dragging you over the edge before you even had the chance to realize how close you were to cumming. you cried out at the heat tearing through every inch of your sore flesh, nails digging into your palms as you slumped back against him, saliva dripping out of your open mouth and onto the bed.
the emptiness of him pulling out of you made you whimper, more strained sounds of protest escaping your throat as he flipped you onto your back, struggling to find a bearable position with the way your hands pressed uncomfortably into your spine. for the first time you were able to see the wild look in his eyes, his lips drawn back into more of a snarl that bared his teeth rather than a smile, even more of his long, dark hair having fallen from his hair tie. you could hardly take in the finer details of his image, the symptoms of the concussion you likely had already settling in around the edges of your vision, remaining sight starting to flicker out into darkness.
"wake up. hey." the sight of his hand rearing back and the sharp sting of its impact on your cheek were disconnected but registered all the same, forcing a pained groan out of you as you blinked up at him, trying desperately to dispel the black specks pulsing across your vision as you recovered from the jerk of your head being knocked to the side.
you could already feel the redness forming on the skin of your face, the rough hands that had just started tugging at your shirt impatiently tearing it halfway open, sending buttons flying off in every direction as he grinned down at you.
"you really threw a wrench into this whole plan of mine." he forced down a few chuckles, wiping some of your blood on his fingers off on your ruined shirt, "i should be making my way to the east exit right now, but all i can think right about it seeing that pretty fucking face you're gonna make when i make you cum again."
his fingers dug into the pliant flesh of your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he pushed himself right back into you, clearly relishing in the way you whimpered out baseless pleas and curses. your legs squeezed around him instinctually, hips bucking up to meet his despite the small whisper in the back of your mind still begging for you to maintain a shred of dignity and push him away.
he kissed messily at the base of your neck, barely able to maintain the mimicry of intimacy for more than a few seconds before he was biting at the exposed skin, sometimes only just brushing his teeth over it but sometimes hard enough to print them into the bruising flesh. you could barely hold your eyes open enough to see the cracked ceiling above you, feeling the heat of his breaths over your shoulder and the audible clap of his skin meeting yours with every rough thrust. you chose to focus on the familiar pressure welling deep in your stomach, letting your eyes roll back into your head and your shaking legs squeeze tighter around him, only acknowledging his teeth breaking your skin with a whine in favor of just letting yourself hit that impossibly high peak once again.
he growled out a low string of curses into your neck, movements becoming less coordinated and even rougher as you came around him for his second time, not having enough lucidity to be ashamed of how easily release came. he continued even as your legs became heavy in his grasp, writhing and crying out dissipating into the occasional twitch, barely able to register the end of the entire exchange until you felt the liquid heat spilling into you. it only halfway made up for the lack of his cock in you as he pulled away, not bothering to try and bring you back to consciousness while he shoved himself back into his pants.
you roused on your own just a few moments later, gasping in quick little breaths and rolling yourself onto your side so you didn't crush your numb hands and wrists anymore than you already had, blinking away the blur of tears and the spottiness of passing out as you craned your neck to look up at him, wincing when you drew an injured area of skin taut. you just caught him tugging on your jacket, which had always fitted you loosely and was now fitting him snugly, his face flushed but having returned to his usual cool, impassive demeanor. but when he turned to look down at you, you could see a flicker of pride cross his features, the slightest smirk playing on his lips.
he said nothing as he walked right out of his cell, shutting the metal door and locking it behind him, the sound of his footfalls growing fainter down the hall and disappearing entirely as he ascended the steps. you would guess that it took around an hour for someone to come down and find you. by then, the slow stream of blood had slowed and clotted, and the belt around your wrists had loosened enough to allow adequate blood flow but still too tight for you to wriggle out of in your weakened state. you were sure that you looked pretty worse for wear; half naked, covered in injuries of varying severity, messy with a mix of blood, spit, tears, and cum.
but instead of thanking your lucky stars that you didn't have to spend the whole night trapped down there, you simply let your heavy eyes fall back shut as the soldier, a boy your age that you didn't know well but had gone out on a few mission with, promised to come back with a spare key and take you to the infirmary before running out in a panic. you didn't know whether you wanted eren jaeger to successfully make it out or be apprehended and sent right back here after they'd cleaned you up. would they interrogate him about how he escaped? would he tell them about you and the role you played in it?
after all was said and done, the only thing you were entirely sure about was that you'd probably never be allowed to go near him or participate in any assignments involving him ever again. and even after everything, a part of you just didn't want to believe that this was the end for the two of you.
#eren jaeger#eren jaeger x reader#eren jaeger x you#eren yeager#eren yeager x you#eren yeager x reader#aot x reader#aot x you#aot x reader smut#snk x reader#snk x you#snk x reader smut#shingeki no kyoujin x reader#shingeki no kyojin fanfiction#m.nsfw
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37 and 66 from I love you things with Ollie and Jess?
A/N: Hi Nonny! Thank you so much for this prompt. I’m so sorry it took me a while to write, but I hope it was worth the wait.
I went back and forth while writing this between making it a reader-insert and using Jess as an actual OC and finally settled on the latter, because it just felt right. (Which is probably how I will continue to write this pair going forward also.)
Word Count: 3493
Rating: G - mostly fluff - heights (and fear of influencing how it’s written), a little swearing, referenced/implied panic attack
Jess closed the shop at 6pm on the dot, giving herself an hour to get ready for...whatever Ollie had planned. There weren’t a lot of places to go out to dinner in the area, and she desperately hoped he wouldn’t start out by inviting her home to meet the infamous Charlie Sway. She chewed nervously on her nail, staring at her closet. She knew she needed something that would work for anything, but her mind continued to run in circles trying to decide exactly what that meant.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d given this much thought to what she looked like on someone else’s account. It felt strange to say the least. But, she mused, not a bad kind of strange. Eventually, she settled on a cute cream-colored sweater and jeans, hoping that the evening temperature dropped enough to make them reasonable.
There was a soft knock on the door and she frantically cast one last look over herself in the mirror, smoothing down her shirt and hair, stomach twisting nervously.
She threw open the door perhaps a bit overenthusiastically, a warm expression on her face.
“Hi,” she greeted him, the single syllable all she could get out as she met those soft blue eyes.
Ollie grinned when he saw her, the excited, adoring expression making her heart flutter. It was hard for Jess not to scoff at the cliché, when she was behaving like the protagonists of the romances she sold by the dozen. But at least he was looking at her the same way, and seemed at least momentarily speechless.
“Uh, do you want to come in?” she offered meekly after a moment, gesturing over her shoulder. “Or I can come out, and we can...I mean...um...”
The two of them stood there, staring at each other dumbly for a moment, on either side of the doorway.
“So...where are we going?” she asked after a long pause ripe with awkward tension. She wanted to kick herself. Ollie had been so easy to talk to from the moment he walked into her store, but now, suddenly they were going on a proper date and everything felt different?
“I have a picnic bag in the back of my car, and I thought we could drive somewhere, and then maybe hike a bit?”
“A hike?” she asked nervously. “Like, up into the mountains?”
“Yeah. There’s a point up there that has great views of the entire town and the lake. Nik heard about it from one of the girls at the bar we were flirting with…I mean he was flirting with mostly. It wasn’t...I mean I didn’t...and this was before I met you…”
“Ollie,” she laughed lightly, tilting her head to one side to look at him. “I’m not the blushing, swooning virginal maiden, and I don’t expect you to be either.”
He coughed, face turning crimson and she couldn’t help smiling fondly. Finally, things were feeling a little more normal, this was still the same Ollie she had come to adore.
“You’re also only here for the summer, or however long it takes you to find your Dad’s record. So I hadn’t set my hopes on serious, or exclusive. I just think you’re cute, and fun to be around, so why not enjoy something and see what happens with it?”
“Oh.” His face twisted as he considered her words.
“However, I don’t think a hike is a good idea. It’s going to be dark soon.”
“There’s still almost two hours before sunset, and I brought flashlights so we can get back down the mountain.”
Of course, he had planned ahead. It would be stupid to plan a hiking date and not account for that, and he was far from stupid. And they were both dressed fine for the occasion. Her mind quested desperately for some other reason that they shouldn’t go and came up blank. So instead she held up a finger for him to wait, and went back to collect her camera. If she were going to do this, she might as well get some good photographs out of it, she rationed. Maybe even one she could sell prints of, if she was incredibly lucky. (She already felt insanely so, when such a wonderful boy wanted to go out with her, so why not see how far that streak ran?)
~
The first part of the hike went surprisingly smoothly, and it didn’t take long before Jess and Ollie were joking and laughing, scrabbling over rocks like young goats, playing eye-spy with the woods, any weirdness melting away in the evening sun. She barely noticed the way their path climbed, and felt completely relaxed.
Gradually, without her noticing, the trail narrowed and became steeper, until it rounded a tight bend up ahead, nothing but air off to her left and solid rock to the right. She swallowed nervously, trying to keep her eyes from the empty space. All of her joviality dropped away like the ground.
“Jess?” Ollie asked, noticing her discomfort as she edged very slowly along. “Are you alright?”
“Yes. Yeah. Fine. I just...don’t like heights.” She answered, breath and words coming in short bursts.
“Oh. Shit. Um, we can turn back if you want? I didn't realize you--”
“No. No, it's fine. We're here now. I'll make it through. You just might have to hold my hand for the way back down.”
She’d meant it as a joke, a light flirtation to distract her from the many, many feet she could fall with one misstep. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be doing any good, as her mind found a way to focus on both the space and how cheesy the sentence was.
“Do...you want me to now?” he countered, holding one slim hand out.
She flashed him a small smile, taking it with her own and trying not to think too much about how nice, how right it felt. “You’ve been taking lessons with Nikolai haven’t you?”
“What?”
“That was smooth, Oliver,” she teased, enjoying the way he turned red all the way to the tips of his ears.
~
Eventually, the young couple made it to the overlook, with much gentle guidance from Ollie to keep Jess’s nerves from overwhelming her, and she gasped. The lake stretched out below them, still and silver in the evening light, shining like a mirror. Tiny specks of color, moving too fast or too far for the eye to really track marked the boaters and jetskis, and kites flown from the small public beach. Most of the buildings disappeared into the verdant green surroundings, and the ones she could still spot looked like houses and shops and mansions for Polly Pockets, not people. The sun was just starting to dip behind the mountains on the far side of the lake, hazy outlines of shadow against the sherbert sky.
“Oh, Ollie,” she breathed, stunned. “It’s beautiful.”
He mumbled something she didn’t catch and started unpacking the picnic he’d brought in his backpack. Not wanting to disturb him, and clearly left to her own devices for the moment, she took out her camera, adjusting the lens carefully, capturing as much of the view as she could. Then, on an impulse she turned around and snapped one of Ollie, silhouetted against the forest and the peeks of sunset between the trees, before he could notice. The sound of the shutter, or the finishing touches being put on dinner, made him look up.
“What are you doing, Jess?” he asked, confusion written across his features.
“Taking pictures of beautiful things,” she answered with a shrug, bringing the camera to her eye again.
“No,” he held up his hand to block it, laughing.
“I’m serious. This place, up here away from it all, suits you.”
“You’re full of shit, Jess.” He shook his head, his hair falling across his face.
She took another photo while his guard was down.
“Come sit down. Marlena put together a good meal.”
Relenting after another photo out into the distance, almost wishing she dared to get closer to the edge of the overlook, she carefully disassembled her camera, storing each piece with reverence back in its bag, before sitting across from him. He had set up quite the array on the blanket: simple but delicious looking toasted sandwiches, glasses and lemonade, berries and chunks of watermelon, and what looked like very freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies.
“Ollie, it looks amazing,” she said with a smile, popping a sweet, juicy blackberry into her mouth with a small, exaggerated moan. “And tastes even better.”
He blushed, shrugging and laughing sheepishly. “All I did was carry it up here.”
She rolled her eyes as he deflected yet another compliment. He seemed to always be doing that, much to her frustration, and she made a mental note to find a way to make him see how much she meant them, how true each one was.
Silence fell over the two of them as they started picking at the buffet between them, but it was an easy one, a pause rather than an interruption, and eventually conversation resumed. She asked him about his search for his father’s record and listened as he spoke of the things he had found, which weren’t what he was looking for but seemed to bring (mostly) happy memories of his childhood. He asked for stories of her family, and of what the town was like when summer-people left.
“Sway Lake is a different place,” she concluded eventually, casting her eyes about her on the clifftop, “just like it is from up here. Or frozen in a moment in your record.”
By now the remains of the food had been set aside, and the pair had scooted closer on the picnic blanket, sitting side by side and facing out, instead of across from one another. Hesitantly, Jess shifted her hand closer so that their pinkies brushed, daring him to take action and hold her hand again. He didn’t seem to notice as he turned to face her, eyebrows knitted in confusion.
“I…” he cleared his throat and started over. “You have a really unique view of the world.”
Something in the way he said it made it feel like the kindest compliment someone could give, and it was finally her turn to blush, ducking her head to hide as her cheeks heated furiously.
“I mean I guess,” she fiddled with the edge of the picnic blanket beside her, plucking at a loose thread so she didn’t have to meet his eyes just yet. “I’ve never really thought about it like that...”
“The view up here must be great for photos,” he said, making her laugh at his abrupt change of subject, obviously picking up on her embarrassment and knowing it well.
“Yeah, it is. I’m hoping they come out well. Thank you for showing it to me.”
“The way people were talking, it’s pretty well known...how come you haven’t been up here before?”
“Heights, remember?” she flashed him a half-smile as she tilted her head to one side. “I’ve never had someone invite me before who seemed worth the risk.”
“How do you know if something’s worth it without ever seeing it?”
“You know your record is without hearing it don’t you? Besides, I said someone, not something.”
He froze, blinking owlishly at her.
“Ollie?” she asked after a long pause, wondering what was going on with him suddenly.
“Can I kiss you?” he blurted, and now it was her turn to freeze, the question momentarily incomprehensible.
“Yes,” she breathed, barely getting the word out before his lips were pressed against hers.
The contact was abrupt, almost a headbutt but more romantic. There was a moment of awkward fumbling, of bumping noses and clashing teeth, until their mouths finally slotted together properly. Even after finding the right way to connect, there was a split second of hesitation, and then his hands came up to frame her jaw, pulling her closer, the tips of his fingers teasing at her hairline and the small hairs that had escaped the scrunchie holding most of it back. Keeping one of her own hands on the blanket to hold herself steady, Jess wrapped the other around the back of his neck like an anchor and leaned into the pressure of his soft lips on hers.
All too soon he pulled away, panting breathlessly, and staring at her with an awe that made her own breath catch in her throat. She was half tempted to pull him back into another kiss, if only to make him stop looking at her like that.
A distant roll of thunder shattered the moment, and her eyes flickered toward the clouds gathering on the blue-purple horizon.
“We should probably head back, before that gets here,” she said reluctantly, wishing she had more time.
Ollie nodded in agreement, and the two of them made quick work of packing back up the remains of the picnic. He handed her a heavy black flashlight (that, she noted gratefully, and then laughed internally at her own thought, would double as a decent weapon against a rogue mountain lion at least long enough to run) and set off down the mountain. She tried to follow him without looking down, but the uneven terrain in the growing darkness made that too difficult to maintain. Soon the very idea filled her with just as much fear as looking. The edge of the path seemed to drop sharply, drawing ever closer to her feet in the narrow beam of yellow light, until it felt like she was walking along the very line of the drop.
She stopped short with a yelp, head spinning from the sensation and whole body trembling. The sound made Ollie turn around sharply, placing himself as a barrier between her and the fall as she pressed her back firmly against the rock.
He took her by the shoulders, trying to get her to make eye contact instead of staring blankly at the sight, or lack of sight beyond him.
“Jess? Can you hear me?” he asked. “It’s alright, Jess. I’m right here, I won’t let you fall.”
Her blood roared in her ears and she saw his lips move but it was too loud for her to hear him.
When talking didn’t seem to work, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a tight hug. Her fingers curled into his sweatshirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. Face pressed into the side of his neck she let out a sob, as the world spun around her much too fast.
~
The rest of the journey down to Ollie’s station wagon and much of the drive were a blur. Jess wasn’t completely unconvinced that he had somehow found a way to carry her down, although that was giving his physical strength more credit than he looked like it deserved. The storm picked up as they drove, clouds turning the sky to black, lit only by the occasional crash of lightning, and rain slamming against the roof and windows.
All too soon, the car stopped, parking in the narrow street in front of her building. They exited the car and promptly Ollie took her by the hand, lacing their fingers together. Not wanting to stand in the rain, she used the point of contact to drag him along, running as if she could dodge the water falling from the sky until they made it to her door. They stood there under the eaves, hair and clothing dripping, facing each other reluctantly, not wanting to say goodnight just yet.
“Tonight was…” he said, pausing.
“Amazing?” she finished, smiling and feeling the light heat of a blush on her cheeks.
“Yeah. That.” He smiled back, and looked for a moment (during which her heart beat like a bird trying to escape her chest) like he was going to kiss her again. “I should let you go inside…”
“Stay over,” she blurted out before she could consider the words.
“W-what?” he stared at her like she’d just grown an extra head or twelve. “Jess I can’t do that…”
“It’s late. And the weather’s bad. And I saw you yawning while we were driving back. I’d worry about you if you tried to go home now.”
“It’s just around the other side of the lake…”
“Yeah, but that’s like half an hour unless you drive recklessly. All it takes is drifting off for a second...please stay?”
“But...what will people think?”
“People,” she raised an eyebrow, “or your grandmother?”
“I don’t just mean her. I don’t want you to be treated like--”
“A slut?”
He shuffled and looked away.
“People aren’t that bad, you know. There are a handful of dicks, but most of town doesn’t give a shit.”
“I didn’t mean…” he frowned. “I’m a Sway. I know people don’t like my family. If you’re seen with me like that...I know what being an outcast feels like, and I don’t want you to have to feel that way.”
“Well I guess you'll just have to make sure no one sees, then.” She smirked, before she sighed. “Look, Ollie. We're grown adults. What we do at night, or any other time, or with whom is no one's business but our own.”
“I know but--”
“No. No buts. I wouldn't have invited you to sleep over if I didn't mean it, or I wasn't prepared for gossip and fallout. It’s up to you. I just would feel a lot better if you did.”
“You really want me to stay?”
She rolled her eyes and fixed him with a look rather than actually answering. The wet breeze sent a shiver over her as she turned to unlock the door, not waiting anymore for him to make a decision.
“And it’s not...too fast?”
She shrugged, taking him by the arm to pull him into the house and into a kiss. Her other hand threaded into his hair and his hovered over her hips as if he wasn’t quite sure he was allowed to touch her .
“Too fast is a myth,” she murmured, breath ghosting across his face. “Besides, I was inviting you into my house, not my bed.”
She’d lost count by now of the number of times she’d managed to make Ollie blush tonight, but each time you did was just as adorable as the first.
“Although, I was going to offer to take the couch,” she said over your shoulder as she led the way toward the furniture in question, “so I guess it was...also...into my bed…this is...I’m making it weird.”
“What? No!” he fumbled to reassure her. “I mean, no. You’re not, not no I won’t sleep in...I don’t want to, without you. Not that we have to sleep together. It’s just. It’s your bed.”
“God we’re a pair,” she said, laughing now as she dropped down and motioned for him to sit beside her. “Tripping over ourselves like romantic baby deer.”
“I just don’t want to mess this up,” he admitted sheepishly, sitting awkwardly perched on the edge of the cushion as if he was going to run at any moment.
“Is there...something to mess up?” she asked, reaching over to take his hand and lacing her fingers through his.
“I think so,” the words may have been a statement but his face was a question as he turned toward her a little more. “I don't want this to be some summer fling, Jess. I want it to be real.”
“Hey, summer flings can also be real. There was this one guy who…” she paused at Ollie's expression and shook her head, “never mind. The point is they're not mutually exclusive. But I appreciate the sentiment. And I’d really like that too.”
“What does that mean though?” he asked.
She paused. “That’s what we have to decide. But...not tonight. It’s late. We should go to bed and talk about it when we’re rested.” She fought back a yawn that emphasized her point as she stood.
He nodded, watching her turn and cross the room, eyes lingering low. It took him a moment to realize when she had stopped moving again.
“Well aren't you coming?”
“What?” he squeaked out.
“It occurs to me, the bed is big enough for two and way more comfortable than the couch.”
“I…”
“I just mean to sleep, for real. And, I guess, maybe cuddling?” She bit her lip nervously. “Unless you're not good with that…”
He stared for another long, awkward moment. “Even with my nightmares?”
She shrugged. “Yeah. I’ll deal. Or maybe having someone else beside you will help.”
Ollie scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to join her by the doorway. She laughed, lacing her fingers with his and leading him further through the apartment, silently marveling at how well things had gone, for a first date.
#it only took...almost 2 months to get to this. that's totally fine...#I had to do a lot of tweaking and pronoun conversion#so please (politely) hit me up if I missed anything#Oliver Sway x Jess O'Neill#Oliver Sway x OC#Song of Sway Lake fic#The Song of Sway Lake
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Synopsis: You knew that Kageyama Tobio was not your soulmate - and that was why you could not help but succumb to the waves that lulled you away from the shores of fate + semi inspired by Eyes Blue like the Atlantic by sistaprod ft. Subvrbs. Also part of @yacoka‘s collab <3 (2.4k words)
Warnings/notes: Some angst near the end, soulmate red string au, gender neutral reader. No beta we die like Rex Lapis so if I ever feel like it this may be edited at some point asdahdhj idk LMAO
— Prologue
There are as many reasons to fall in love with Kageyama Tobio as there are fractals made by the ocean’s breath as the world inhales and exhales, flourishes and wilts, conquers and surrenders. It would not even be a hyperbole to say that in number, they remain unrivalled to the plethora of stars that stain the waves with their reflection and run deeper than the scars of lightyears that paint lines from Cassiopeia to Aquila.
After all, he is the darkest hue of navy blue.
Determination that moves in an orchestra of thundering waves, brandishing on its crest an admirable recklessness, heeding not for the need to call upon courage or confidence; polished instinct that endued one with the same awestruck feeling when facing the beautifully suffocating obscurity of their life in this world, a mixture of raw fear and the need to impart a piece of their soul in everything they do despite how fragile the skin shielding their heart is.
But the best part of loving Kageyama was that you were not - or will ever become - destined to be.
— Shoreline
Red.
It was a word that was always thrown about in conversations, the fuel to the catastrophes that were high school gossip chains, and the colour that held the mangled passion of the string of fate. Garishly predestined and easily tangled by unnecessary complications of jealousy and confusion, it is needless to say that you hated red with more passion than the love it emptily promises with a title as shallow as soulmates.
That was not to say you despised love. There was nothing wrong with love itself, a fact which you had decided firmly since the spry age of four years old. What was wrong was its combination with soulmates: a rigid formula, nothing like the walks with your grandmother on the bright summer roads littered with flowers as her calloused palm gently guided you, or the laughter you shared with your friends after a long run in the rain, hugging each other goodbye at the end of the day despite the muddy battle scars covering your arms and legs from falling countless times.
Your mind could have kept you engaged in your internal debate for longer if you were left to your own devices, but an awkward cough and the sound of a desk shifting towards your right brought you out of your reverie, bringing your drifting thoughts back to the classroom surrounding you.
Perhaps your look of confusion came off as hostile, for the dark-haired boy now sitting next to you looked at you with a slight glare that felt forced, an automatic effort to defend himself.
His tone of voice only confirmed your unconsciously off-putting expression as he gruffly stated, “Group project.” to explain his sudden presence.
“Oh. What’s the topic on?”
An awkward silence had ensued while you tried to calmly collect yourself by gathering a handful of pens from your pencil case after being caught in your heinous crime of not paying attention to your English teacher.
“You don’t know?” Came his reply, causing you to occupy yourself by finding extreme interest in a lime green highlighter you did not have any recollection of ever buying.
“Well, I clearly wasn’t paying attention.”
“You… weren’t?” The slight intonation in his tone was a stark contrast to your initial impression of him and caused you to look up at him, almost letting out an amused snort at his befuddled frown to which he furrowed his brows and shot a challenging “What?” in return. Realizing that he was genuine in believing that you were deep in thought over the lesson, a burst of laughter blossomed past your lips, attracting a few odd looks from your nearby peers and an abashed glare from him.
You paused to take a breath, a repetition of sorries stumbling their way out to appease the onslaught of nagging you thought would follow shortly. Instead, all the boy muttered was a simple, “You’re weird.”
“Sure, but that’s beside the point - were you paying any attention?”
“No.”
Seeing your face contorted to stop yet another bout of laughter to roam its way into the world as a result of his bluntness, he shot out of his seat and announced that he would go ask the teacher, unable to hide his puzzlement as he walked away. He would come to regret this decision when the teacher began to lecture him, earning more heads to turn his way as she scolded him before sending him off dismissively with a sticky note that you assumed had your now long-awaited topic.
Before you could thank him for enduring what could only be one of the worst things to experience as a high school student, he wordlessly handed the piece of paper to you and sat down.
“Kageyama, right? With this project, you’ll have me to thank for the A we’ll get,” you promised confidently, to which he responded with a halfhearted “Good luck.”
If he had been a close friend, you would have taken the small textbook on his desk and gently hit his head at his evident lack of belief in his capabilities, but settled for a clipped sigh instead. After all, you did not want to further contribute to the premature wrinkles Kageyama was making himself prone to with all of the brow-furrowing he did.
This is going to be one long month.
— Largo
Like how the ocean reluctantly caresses the sleeping shore as it wakes from its slumber during low tide, your lives slowly flowed together.
During the first week of your group project with him, he would greet you curtly, and on a few occasions, you would have short conversations about the outline of your book review.
And this singular week was enough to show that there was some (okay, maybe a lot) of backing behind the teacher’s warning about Kageyama’s dismal grade.
While you flipped through A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you would catch the all-too-familiar confusion on his face - it was written on his features so blatantly that it was almost comical, as if taken straight out of a shonen manga.
“You know if you’re stuck you can ask me for help.”
A slight scowl greeted you over the hedge of pages he had been burying himself in, followed by a biting, “Who said I need help?”
You could only roll your eyes in return.
“Please drop the prideful act. You've been glazing over the same page for about twenty minutes now."
After a few seconds of grumbling did he finally comply, and with your explanations, his bookmark was now comfortably sandwiched between the double-digit page numbers right as the bell rang. You hummed in satisfaction before returning your desk to your original spot, expecting him to rush out along with everyone else - so to turn around and see him still standing there was a bit of a surprise.
“Did you still need help with the last few lines?” You settled on asking, not really wanting to plague your break with work but offering nonetheless. Thankfully, he shot a look of disdain at the play as he stuffed it away haphazardly in his bag.
“No, I just wanted to,” he trailed off a bit, the tinge of red on his ears an out-of-character detail you decided not to comment on, “to say thanks, I guess.”
You smiled softly at the unexpected gesture of appreciation before giving him a teasing nudge which he stiffened slightly at.
“Well, I can’t have you bringing down my mark now can I?”
“Nevermind, I take it back.”
“Too bad, I have those words of gratitude stored nicely in my hippocampus already.”
From there, tutoring sessions with Kageyama became the norm, with you sometimes asking about his volleyball team after he had let slip that you were a better teacher than Tsukishima (something you would be sure to smugly share if you ever met the infamous middle blocker).
By the end of the month, all of the hard work - and a couple of all-nighters due to procrastination - brought forth an A as you had promised.
Even your relentless teasing, varying between “I told you so!” to “You owe me at least three meat buns now” which were all met with an annoyed “Shut up”was not enough to dim the smile he tried to hide.
— High tide
With the force of nature, the tide rose without warning; from goodnight texts to confessing to the first “I love you” uttered shyly between shameless souls, neither of you was sure where things began, but found comfort in such liberating chaos.
In times where he needed to be held, you were there, and the insecurities you would hide, he would turn beautiful. And today happened to be a day for both as you stared absentmindedly at his bedroom ceiling.
“Hey Tobio, what’s your take on soulmates?”
“We’ve been together for almost a year now, what do you think?” he put his phone down and turned towards you, “I could care less about soulmates or whatever else is worrying you enough to make your overthinking go into overdrive.”
“Rude, have some respect, it’s my profession after all,” you shoved him playfully as he snorted in reply, “It’s just... If your string ever appeared, wouldn't you rather-”
“Listen Y/n, did you know that I’m scared of dying but I’m even more terrified of the thought of living without you? I could never and don’t ever want to replace you. People can talk all they want, if I could find a love like ours without something as stupid as a piece of string then I don’t need a soulmate.”
“Really?”
With a flick to your forehead, he huffed in fake exasperation. “Really.”
“Huh, who knew you could be so romantic.”
“It's not romantic, I'm just being honest, idiot.”
“You sure could make do with some more lessons on manners and social tact. It's too bad you can't pick up on those as well as volleyball drills.”
Before he could retaliate, you enveloped him in a familiar embrace, burrowing your face into the large hoodie he donned.
It was effortless, his company.
— Ebbing away
But it wasn’t all romantic.
You fiddled with your phone as you waited for any sign that Kageyama had seen your messages, the pack of meat buns you had bought on a whim no longer letting off their fragrant steam. You knew he had an important match coming up against Seijoh, that he had to prove himself, that he lives hungrily and foolishly like no other. But his missing presence went beyond volleyball practice, keeping his distance from you even when he was right by your side.
Why am I stuck reminiscing about the past when we still have each other?
Why does every step I take towards him feel as if I’m only drawing myself farther away from him?
A carousel of rhetorical questions spun around your head as you stopped your slow pace towards Karasuno. You were not blind; you knew the rumours and dirty looks from your classmates were not something anyone could be immune to, that he tried his best to spend less time around you at school. The only conclusion you could reach was that he was ashamed: either of you, or the fact that he had begun to see his red string and could not bring himself to face you.
Ignoring the urge to let yourself cry, you glanced down at your phone once more, 8:30PM flashed across your eyes, followed by your empty notifications. There was no way he’d still be practicing at the school now and even if he was, you doubted he would be happy to see you. Maybe - no, definitely - it would be better to head home, and maybe stop by the convenience store you had bought the now misshapen meat buns from to get some tea and call it a night.
If only fate did not reciprocate your hatred towards it.
Stepping into the small store, the first person you are greeted with is none other than Kageyama Tobio. The whole situation was like a fever dream, and you would do anything to be able to let out a laugh and have him call you weird all over again. But all you could bring yourself to do was blearily stare at him.
He turned around quickly, as if not wanting to be caught before ushering you outside. “Y/n? Why are you here?” he hissed, a stiffness that he had recently adopted to his body language that you were now all too familiar with.
“What? Am I not allowed to go into any and all convenience stores I please?” You challenged, a part of you waiting for him to care enough to see how tired you were, to actually look you in the eyes for the first time in weeks.
He did not, opting to turn his head towards the door again.
“It’s not that, it’s just-”
“Just what? Tobio, what is up with you lately?” A pause ensued, broken by a small hiccup as your eyes dampened - God, how much more pathetic could you get than crying in front of some dingy convenience store - “Do you even love me anymore?”
How odd. You thought that by finally uttering the final question that had been dancing around your mind free to the world, you would feel better. That he would reassure you, as he always had.
Not that he would at last meet your gaze, grabbing your hand to look at the red string wrapped around your ring finger.
The taste of tears and Kageyama’s eyes as blue as the Atlantic all felt miles away from you as an orange-haired boy stepped out of the store, his mouth dropping into an o-shape when he saw that his string led to you, a disheveled mess arguing with his teammate.
“Kageyama…You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to face the reality of it all. Because I was afraid of losing you.”
“But I wouldn’t leave you-”
“I know you wouldn’t but you should!” Kageyama’s furrowed brows, once a quirk of his that you were fond of, now elicited a sick turmoil in your stomach, “You have to. Please.”
You wanted to yell at him, let the blood pour out of any and all raw words of anger and hurt.
Who was he to decide what was good for you, to throw you at some boy you never met before, to give up?
Then again, you could never say you would not have done the same for him if you knew he had found his soulmate despite the sweet words he had told you so long ago.
So you let yourself go. For his sake.
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Catching Rain
Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe
Genre: Wolf!AU
Pairing: Minseok x Reader
Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?
Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue
**
The theatre was loud, opposite of its normally hushed nature. People were yelling back and forth, saws and drills screeching as they tore through wood. In the background, sewing machines could be heard, along with the occasional curse as the needle got stuck in the fabric. One person, however, was quiet, focused. The paintbrush in his hand was small. The hairs tightly pressed together in order to create the perfect details on the backdrop. Erik was hunched over, sitting cross-legged on the stage floor as he squinted at the distant forest he was perfecting. Setting your bag down in the second row, you headed up the stage stairs.
“Hey,” you said softly in order not to scare him.
Blinking, he turned around. His glasses were on the very tip of his nose, having slipped from the slight bit of sweat that had conjured on his face from the glaring stage lights. With a green speckled finger, he pushed the frame back up to its proper position. “Hey! I thought you had a project?”
You shrugged. “I did, but… I kind of hit a wall and needed to give my brain a rest. I’m sorry, I guess I should have gotten lunch with you anyway.”
“That’s alright. If you want, I still have half of my sandwich left.”
Smiling, you ruffled his hair. “Thanks, I’m not really hungry.” Minseok’s dismissive response had ruined the idea of food for you. Later you knew you would be starving, but right now food sounded like a great way to churn your stomach and see what it had been brewing all morning. “I’m just going to go hang out in the seats, if that’s okay?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “No one will bother you or question it. Not that anyone would notice in the first place.”
“It’s pretty crazy around here, isn’t it?”
“You missed the big explosion when Dorothy couldn’t find the armchair for the second act. Turns out, someone just leaned a piece of wood for the set against it and hid it from view. Still took us half an hour to find it.”
You snorted. “Wow. I’m actually kind of sad I missed that.” You kissed his cheek, careful to avoid a smear that you were sure he had no clue about. That stupid guilt knocked once again.
The seat was only slightly comfortable, the cushion long ago worn down from a thousand performances. You stewed there in the second row. Though it wasn’t appropriate during shows, you didn’t think anyone would care if you set your feet on the seat in front of you. Folding nearly in half, you hid your face from those who might look your way as you cranked the handle to get the gears in your head to turn.
Confusion seemed like too weak a word to describe what was going on in your head. You were angry, frustrated, sad, relieved. There had to be some language in the world that tied those emotions all together. You just didn’t know it. Perhaps that one word could be the pill you needed to no longer feel this way. If you could shove all of that into a single box, you would be fine. But is it ever that simple? When you closed your eyes and tried not to think of anything in particular, Minseok’s face faded into view. You’d shake your head to drive the image away. It came back anyway.
You felt powerless against this unseen pull, this innate desire to see him again, even after what had just happened in the courtyard. Your mind made excuses, told you that if you simply asked him to explain then he would. Looking up at Erik, you sighed.
There was no comparison because they were two different people. Erik was the sensitive artist, the kind who went to coffee shops on Friday nights to hear a mediocre guitar player sing his “poetry” because he believed everyone deserved an audience. Minseok, on the other hand, was a strange combination of math lab nerd and soccer team captain. He was goofy and dorky, easily amused by corny jokes, but also had the physique of someone who ran five miles in the A.M. for the fun of it. What you couldn’t figure out was what drew you to him in the first place. In any normal, not-already-dating-someone situation, you wouldn’t have been interested in his type. Yet, it was almost… effortless, being around him. Even after all these years, you sometimes had to force yourself into conversation with Erik. Comfortable silences didn’t exactly exist in your relationship, but you always chalked that up to your own personality. Now you wondered if those moments would be better with Minseok.
Was this a normal thing? You heard stories of college sweethearts all the time and for the last few years, you thought you and Erik would join that club. You hadn’t thought about marriage, per se, but you hadn’t seen an end either. The idea of coming to a fork in the road had never occurred to you. While logic and third party advice you’d casually picked up over your life told you to stick to the left, you were being drawn to the right. One road you could easily see where it led, signs, clear pastures, and everything. The other way wasn’t as clear, disappearing into thick woods that were both inviting and foreboding. You didn’t know if there was another side for the road to come out to. The only way you would ever find out would be to follow it.
You were able to sit there in that second row seat for a few hours, surprisingly, with your phone and the internet as your companion. Only occasionally would you contemplate that fork again. Left, right, left, right. Easy, hard, easy, hard. In the end, you decided you needed to see Minseok again to really decide.
The stage manager called it quits late in the afternoon. Erik washed up his brushes and came to meet you. “Hungry yet?” You nodded, more for something else to do before you were alone again. “Good. I’m starving.” Taking your bag like the gentleman that he was, he waited for you to stand up and then walked you out of the theatre.
Dinner ended up being a small burger joint that Erik had been craving all day. You gave no complaints as you started salivating at the thought of their fries. Surely they had to have some sort of secret, addictive ingredient to make fried potato sticks so incredibly delicious. The two of you ended up splitting a large basket of the side. It stayed equally in the middle of the table so no one could say that the other was hogging. Yes. Safe. Easy. Seeable.
Erik offered a follow up to dinner, but you feigned exhaustion (though there might not have been any faking truthfully, as your mind was tired from constantly running throughout the day). He walked you all the way to the door of your room. As usual, he told you goodnight and leaned in for a kiss. But unlike your normal anticipation, you flinched back to avoid his lips. He stared at you in confusion. Clearing your throat, you made it up to him by kissing his cheek before running for cover in your dorm. From the light of the hallway, you could see that Erik stood on the other side for a few seconds, hesitating to understand what had just happened, before finally walking away.
Teeth clenched down on your bottom lip, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket. Thankfully, Willa was still out so you were alone. The glare of your phone burned in the darkness. You squinted as you moved your thumb across the screen, unlocking it before opening the contacts. The number you wanted was easy enough to find. The pad of your thumb hovered over the little green phone. It accepted the slightest touch and switched over to calling mode. You placed the speaker to your ear.
Rrriiinggg. Rrriiinnngggg.
“Hello?”
You sucked in air. He’d answered. You didn’t have a plan for this. You didn’t have any sort of plan after pressing call. You’d hoped that he was one of those people who didn’t have a voicemail set up.
“Hello? (y/n)?”
You hung up.
**
Minseok watched you stalk off in the exact direction he wished you hadn’t. Anywhere else; he would have been fine with you going anywhere besides the theatre where your boyfriend was. His wolf growled and clawed with jealousy. Why was he so stupid? Since when was keeping his mate a secret more important than being with you? Of course he wanted to eat lunch with you, to see how you got along with his brothers. But the idea of Baekhyun figuring it out had caused him to panic. As obnoxious as Baekhyun could be, he wasn’t stupid. At some point during the meal, Minseok would have done something a little overprotective and Baekhyun would have started to connect the dots. Unfortunately, he’d already picked up on something.
“Oooo, breaking the rules, are we?” The brat even had the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows at the eldest wolf.
Not holding back, Minseok swung, hitting a good target on the upper arm.
“Ow!”
“First, it's not a rule,” Minseok grumbled. “Junmyeon simply suggested that we don’t date. Besides, you’re one to talk. How’s Daisy?”
Baekhyun was hardly phased. He sported a cheeky grin. “She’s great.”
Bored, Sehun asked, “Can we just go eat now? Who cares who Minseok was flirting with?”
“I wasn’t flirting with her!” Minseok shouted. He explained in a lower voice, “She’s having trouble in her math class so I’m doing Sungkyu a favor and helping her out so she can pass. That’s it.”
“So why didn’t you want her to eat with us, then?” Jongin asked innocently.
Minseok flinched. Jongin was more observant than anyone would give him credit for. Not that Minseok was subtle in any sense of the word. “I didn’t say that I didn’t want her to eat with us. Knowing you all, you would have let something slip about what we are.”
“Minseok, we all caught that she was willing to join us,” Chanyeol said.
Huffing, Minseok grumbled, “Are we going to go eat or should I just go by myself?”
Shrugging off the odd behavior, Baekhyun turned and headed for the parking lot. Minseok was quick to follow, feeling smaller than normal surrounded by his pack members. In his head, he pictured himself running back towards the theatre, bursting through the doors, and - in true dramatic fashion - declaring you his.
That would be a complete disaster. He should only do that if he wanted you to never talk to him ever again.
Minseok hardly paid attention as Chanyeol drove them to his favorite pizza place. He was in a trance as the others took control of what to order. Physically, he sat in the booth next to Sehun with Baekhyun on the other side. His shoulder was pressed into the chipped wooden guard rail that ran along the wall but he hardly noticed the uncomfortable poke in his skin. His mind was still back at the campus. He was driving himself crazy trying to figure out how he was going to make this up to you, how he was going to explain his bizarre switch up to you. He hardly ate, which was fine since the others were more than happy to devour the three large pizzas with varying toppings. The others weren’t bothered by his quietness since it was nothing new. Minseok was always more of an observer than a participant. In a time like this, it worked to his advantage.
There was no consulting Minseok when the lunch was through. They all simply piled back into the car and headed out of town towards the woods. Vague mentions of going for a run were tossed around. Minseok didn’t voice any sort of agreement. He wasn’t in the mood. Ha. A wolf not in the mood to run wild among the trees? He really was turned upside down because of you. While the younger ones headed straight for the trees, Minseok headed up the porch and through the front living room until he came to the kitchen. Oh, thank god. There were still beers in the fridge. He grabbed one and immediately opened it, still chugging as he walked over to the breakfast booth.
“Did you have fun?”
Junmyeon slid into the booth across from him. Minseok put the can down. “Yeah. At first. We had fun with the project. It was when the others showed up that things… went bad.”
“What do you mean?” Junmyeon asked with a frown.
“I… panicked. The others invited her to join us and I….” Minseok shrugged.
“Worried that the others would figure it out?” Junmyeon guessed. The response was a nod.
“Figure what out?”
Shit.
Baekhyun stood in the entryway, looking back and forth between the eldest and the alpha. Minseok gulped. He thought that all four of them had gone out on a run and he hadn’t heard anyone else in the house. Stepping further into the kitchen, Baekhyun asked again, “Figure what out?”
Minseok looked to Junmyeon for help. None was to be found.
“You should probably tell them.”
“I’m not going to tell just Baekhyun so he can go running and tell the others and exaggerate.”
“I can always call a family meeting.”
“I don’t want to make that big of a deal out of it.”
“Too late on that. Besides, that’s the best way to get everyone here. Get it out of the way.”
“Or to get none of them here.”
“I’m still standing here,” Baekhyun scoffed.
Minseok looked at him. “I know.”
Junmyeon sighed. “Baekhyun, will you go get the others? Tell them it's important?”
He nodded. “Sure. Be back in a flash.” He left, already shedding the hoodie over his head.
Slumping down in the booth, Minseok felt defeated. Junmyeon sensed this immediately. “It really won’t be that bad. And they need to be prepared.”
“Prepared?”
“Yes. Once a pack member finds the first mate, the others will slowly start to find their own. It won’t be immediate. It could take years, really. But it’s like a domino effect. They should be aware that it's their turn next.”
It made sense. The pack was always connected, both in mind and in instinct. But it had been just them for so long, the idea of bringing in mates to the fold was odd. Minseok wasn’t sure how the others would react. Fists clenched on the table, he leaned his head down. It took almost half an hour before the rest of the pack came back. Yixing had arrived first, coming back from a lab he was making up from earlier in the week. The rest came into the kitchen ten minutes later. They were knocking into each other as they yanked on shirts and pants.
“Okay, Junmyeon, what’s the emergency?” Jongdae asked, very prepared to be his usual sarcastic, troll self.
But Junmyeon didn’t reply, letting Minseok take the reins instead. Minseok didn't want to do this. He wanted to run, to keep his secret a little while longer while he figured this whole thing out. But Junmyeon was right. It was time.
“(y/n) - the girl that some of you met today… she’s my mate.”
It was pure silence in the kitchen. It was unnatural in this household. The only time it was ever this quiet was when the house was empty.
“I’m sorry,” Jongdae said. “You said… mate? Right?” Minseok nodded. He growled. “Fantastic.”
“You really found your mate, Minseok?” Yixing was more enthusiastic about the news. He looked elated, even. A small smile was creeping up.
Despite the stunned silence, Minseok found Yixing’s energy infectious. “Yeah. I did.”
“Have you told her yet?” Chanyeol asked.
“She has a boyfriend,” Jongin reminded him.
“Oh. Right.”
“I’m working on it,” Minseok said. “I just-” His phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, his eyes widened at the name popping up on the screen. With sixteen eyes on him, he answered, frantic. “Hello?” A gasp on the other end. “Hello? (y/n)?” You didn’t answer. Two seconds ticked by and you ended the call. He stared at his now black screen in shock. Then his brain started again. “I got to go.”
“Was it her?” Junmyeon asked.
“Wait, I have more questions!” Baekhyun whined. Minseok was out of the kitchen in a heartbeat, jumping into his car and flying down the road. He didn’t know if you were hurt or in trouble. Why had you called him? Why didn’t you say anything? He was determined to find out. There was only one problem.
He didn’t know your dorm number.
You’d briefly mentioned the shared campus housing with your best friend, but that was all the information he had. Looks like he would have to find it the old fashion way.
Asking.
As soon as he parked, he headed towards the dorms, thankful at least that the two large housing buildings were close in proximity. He headed for the smaller cafeteria located in the lobby of the first building. The kitchen was closed but there were still students taking advantage of the open seating. Okay. Here it goes.
The first few groups that Minseok asked had never heard of you. He was starting to berate himself on what a stupid idea this was. He should have called you back and asked you to call him when you were ready because it most certainly would have gone to voicemail. But his luck soon turned around. He approached a group of three girls sitting in a corner. One of them had a camera.
“Excuse me?” They looked up. Minseok cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but I’m trying to find (y/n) (l/n)’s room. Do you happen to know her?”
One girl narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to know?”
Minseok swallowed. “I… I have her notebook. She’d left it behind earlier at study group. She really needs it for class on Monday but I can’t get a hold of her.” Please believe his stupid lie.
The girl who’d spoken made eye contact with her two friends. “She’s in room twenty-three-nineteen. If she doesn’t answer, just slide the notebook under the door.”
He could almost jump from elated joy. “Thank you!”
Taking off, he headed for the stairs. Your dorm room was only on the second floor so it didn’t take long to follow the signs until he was right outside your door. Only now did the possibility that your roommate would be the one to answer cross his mind. What lie would he have to come up with then? He had to take the chance.
After knocking, he waited, shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to release the nervous energy surging through his body. The door swung open.
It was you. Thank goodness.
You were not the same level of relieved. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Crap. He probably should have thought of that. “You called me.”
You looked back over your shoulder before stepping out into the hallway, letting the door shut behind you. “So? That doesn’t mean you can just show up here!”
“I need to talk to you.”
You licked your lips. No, please don’t do that. It’s too tempting already to grab your face and kiss you against the door. Without speaking, you went back into your room. Well, that was a bust. But before he could walk away with slumped shoulders, you came back, this time with shoes on and your bag. “Let’s go.”
He gave no protest as you led him out of the dorm and into the dark. He had no idea where the two of you were headed, but he planned on embracing whatever came his way. The two of you were going to talk. His heart was thumping hard against his sternum. He was getting more alone time with you. Who knew what would end up flying out of his mouth in these next few hours. Would this be the night of truths and revelations?
#exo#exo wolf au#exo wolf!au#minseok x reader#kim minseok#xiumin#exo werewolf au#exo werewolf!au#exo fanfic#exo fanfiction#exo supernatural au#exo series#The Untamed Universe#Catching Rain
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The Rumor Around Hogwarts (Ch.4)
Chapter Four: The Train Ride There
1k+ Words a lot of it is taken from the book but as always I added a lot of [Name] in to make it.... chaotic and slightly angsty
Still uses he/him pronouns for now and later addition of they pronouns will be announced before the chapter. Hope you Enjoy!!!
Last // Next
“What the actual hell- Ow, heck i meant heck.” [Name] choked out while rubbing the back of his head
“Mhm sure you did”
“Anyway you mean to tell me I have to run at a wall.”
“Yup”
“In a muggle train station”
“Yes”
“In the middle of the day?”
“Look, do you want to go to Hogwarts or not?”
“I mean I do but-”
“If you don’t you’ll only disappoint Harry” [Mother’s name] interrupted
[Name] hesitated before responding “I’m sure he’ll be fine he like defeated an evil lord as a baby of course he can run at a wall and make other friends”
“[Name] if you miss the train I’m not taking you to school myself”
And just as [Name] seemed like he’d be okay with that aspect (anything to not embarrass himself in public really) all his hopes were completely crushed
“And I’m not taking you back home to ride on the house elf express”
“Okay but if I die or embarass myself I’m gonna have to find a way to jinx you or something. Maybe i’ll tell that weird muggle mailman you find him cute and force you to flee the country”
“You wouldn’t”
“That’s what you think”
[Name] seemed to gather the courage of all his ancestors (may they rest in peace) and ran straight at the obvious death trap. He had a chosen one to meet after all. He closed his eyes right before impact only to have his senses assaulted by the sounds and sights of something completely unexpected
‘Wow' he whispered under his breath
“I told you so”
“Alright alright I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. But I mean you’re not exactly the most trustworthy. If I needed someone to help me cover up a crime maybe, but a prank that could end in bodily harm..”
[Mo. Name] pretended not to hear a word as she fussed over [Name], the train departing soon. She’s a mother, she couldn’t help it. After running down a long list of things [Name] should have (And did) pack in his trunk she gave a forehead kiss and pushed him off to the trains. As he got on she did the unthinkable.
“Bye baby!! Momma loves you. Tell Peeves I said Hi’
Yeah [Name] definitely wasn't gonna be popular now. At least… not in a good way. There’d be rumors around hogwarts. And he’d be in the center of them.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Harry sat alone in an empty compartment after all the hustle and bustle that came with parents seeing their children off for the first time. And could’ve sworn he had heard someone say something about being peeved. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted when the door of the compartment slid open and the youngest red headed boy he had seen earlier came in.
“Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.”
Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn’t looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.
“Hey, Ron”
The twins were back
“Listen we’re going down the middle of the train- Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”
“Right,” mumbled Ron.
“Harry,” said the other twin, “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later then.”
“Bye” said Harry and Ron. the twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.
“Are you really Harry potter?” Ron blurted out
Harry went to nod but the compartment door slammed open once again
“Harry there you are. Thank God I found you.” [Name] gasped out “My mother totally embarrassed me as I was getting on the train screaming about someone named Peeves and she called me BABY. Anyway I’ve been trying to find you without drawing to much attention to you or myself.”
Harry had wondered how [Name] had said so much in one breath. He didn’t know [Name] to be particularly talkative. He of course had his moments when he’d stand up for someone but Harry had always seen name as a little bit of a worrier or an outsider like himself.
“Sorry." [Name] said almost as if he read Harry’s mind “It’s the nerves. I’m super glad that you’re not alone but I’m also jealous I didn’t get to you first.” [Name] continued as he moved to sit next to Harry.
“What were we talking about? Oh yeah he was asking about your chosen one status which is kind of cool and lame at the same time. Is that offensive?”
“Have you really got - you know?” He pointed at Harry's forehead.
Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared. And surprisingly [Name] did too.
“Y’know as close as we are for two people who only met twice, I realized I haven’t gotten a good look at you Harry.” [Name] realized turning all of his attention on the resident Chosen One
Harry and [Name] stared at each other for a moment. [Name] was curious as to who the boy who lived really was and why he was drawn to him. It was like they were meant to meet up. At the Zoo, in Diagon Alley and now hopefully they would remain on the same path at Hogwarts too.
Harry on the other hand was staring at [Name] in appreciation. They were strangers, yet [Name] came to Harry’s rescue so naturally. Ron was to be a good friend to Harry, he’s sure of it, but it was different with [Name]. Their friendship wasn’t founded on titles, or reputations, or anything but mutual respect and destiny perhaps? If he were more naïve he might’ve attributed this feeling to a crush.
“So that’s where You-Know-Who-? Ron interrupted the staring contest
“Yes” said Harry “but I can’t remember it”
“Nothing?” Ron said eagerly.
“Well- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.
[Name] got incredibly bored of the topic, not really keen on discussing Voldemort’s attack on Harry so he began looking out the window like the main character. Only catching flashes of the conversation and adding his own commentary when appropriate. Apparently Ron had 5 brothers and a little bit of “a lot to live up to” but being friends with the chosen one was sure to give him some stories to tell..
[Name] didn’t interrupt with much about his family because he’d already talked about his embarrassing mother and there was nothing else to talk about but his incredibly large and empty house which would have made him a little uncomfortable and slightly awkward. Y’know since he was talking to an orphan and a poor kid with a huge family. How could either of them relate?
What he did however pay attention to was Harry’s bravery and generosity. Apparently he was only a little bit of an oblivious idiot. Sure he proudly said Voldemort’s name (a trend [Name] hoped to follow) but he was smart enough to realized in the wizarding world at least he was rich and could splurge a little bit on the less fortunate *ahem* Ron *ahem*
“Go on, have a pasty” said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry’s pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten.)
“What are these?” Harry asked Ron and [Name] holding up a pack of chocolate frogs. “They’re not really frogs, are they/” He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him
“No” said Ron “But see what the card is. I’m missing Agrippa”
“He has no idea what you’re talking about, look at his face” [Name] laughed out. Ron followed his line of sight and chuckled at Harry’s confused face as well.
“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know - Chocolate frogs have cards inside them, you know to collect - famous witches and wizards. I’ve got about five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”
Both Harry and [Name] removed the cards from the chocolate frogs. Harry got Dumbledore which set his curiosity aflame once again. [Name] kept his a secret for dramatic effect of course. After answering his questions Ron asked for a chocolate frog as well only to get Morgana.
“Well Ron” [name] started “if you show me a trick, I’ll give you this” flipping over the card Ron’s eyes went wide at the sight of a Ptolemy card.
After a long conversation about the dangers of eating Bertie's ever flavored beans (which [name] would never even touch) Ron eventually worked up the courage to perform a spell when the toadless boy from earlier appeared, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.
“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.
“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wan in his hand.
‘Oh god.’ [name] said to himself as the girl’s thoughts assaulted him and drowned out the obvious awkward silence in the car ‘this girl may have redeeming qualities, or at least I’m hoping she does but she needs to get over herself’
“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”
She sat down. Ron looked taken aback
“Er- alright” he cleared his throat
“Sunshine daises, butter mellow, Turn this stupid fat rat yellow”
He waved his wand but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.
“Are you sure that’s a real spell? Said the girl. “Well it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but…
[Name] having heard most of this speech in his head already tried to tune her out and gave a snort at the end of her rambling when Harry and Ron looked at each other incredulously. Only a little offended when he heard Harry's comparison of Hermione to the nervous [Name] earlier
They all introduced themselves but Harry’s introduction led her on another tangent about him not looking himself up as if this was a common thing to do?? Then she asked what houses they thought they’d be in before leaving, taking the toadless boy with her. Poor Neville.
“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it”
“I doubt we’ll be in the same house Ron” [Name] realized “you’ll probably be in whatever house your brothers are in”
“Gryffindor” Ron spoke up
“Right, and Harry will probably be with you where as I’ll end up in Slytherin probably”
The car went silent a bit before [name] spoke up again “I know what you’re thinking. Literally. I never had a Ptolemy card. I only said that because I wanted to show off my powers as a legilimens. I can see into your mind basically and I made you see what I wanted you to see. Don’t worry though I won’t like brainwash you or anything. Wouldn’t want to be a typical Slytherin and end up a dark wizard.
[Name] got ready to flee the cart after that whole speech and he could tell Ron felt kind of guilty but [Name] couldn’t risk Harry hating him. He was going to the house that produced Voldemort after all. He rushed out of the cart as some blond entered probably because Hermione had spread the rumor about seeing the chosen one.
Before [Name] knew it he was facing his newest worst enemy. The sorting hat.
#the rumor around hogwarts#hp x male reader#male reader#harry potter x y/n#harry potter x nonbinary reader#harry potter x male reader#harry potter x reader#that bi bitch writes#non binary reader#nonbinary reader insert#reader insert
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Hunting For Some Buried Story — Thoughts on: Ransom of the Seven Ships (RAN)
Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU
Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.
Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it. Like with all of the Odd Games, there will be a section between The Intro and The Title called The Weird Stuff, where I go into what makes this game stand out as a little strange.
If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.
These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: RAN; STFD; mention of FIN; GTH; mention of SPY.
The Intro:
We’re two-thirds of the way through the meta series officially (yay for meta #20!), and what a way to cap off that marker: with the last of the Odd Games.
And my land, how Odd it is. And that’s ignoring that in August of 2020, this game was very quietly discontinued — speculated to be because of the…well, pseudo-brownface in the game.
Oh yeah, we’re starting with that little bomb.
Before we truly begin, however, let me state one fact: the controversies over this game do not make it any more interesting, unfortunately. I don’t know how a game can be both this objectively bad and this objectively boring as a mystery, but RAN is an example of many, many impossible feats in the video game industry (boring yet bad, controversial yet uninteresting, finicky yet sluggish in controls, so it might as well begin as it means to go on.
I’m also stating here for the record that I’m not really going to focus on the social aspect of this game; it’s always been out of the scope of these metas to focus on current events or social issues, and race is such a hot button issue that no matter what anyone says, someone gets mad. Besides that, it’s really not an interesting tack to take with this meta, not when there’s so many things to talk about regarding RAN as a game and/or as a mystery. If you came into this meta expecting a breakdown as it relates to any social issues, this might not be the meta for you.
If you came for a beat-down on RAN, however, you’re in the right place. Get comfy.
Ransom of the Seven Ships had all the pieces in place to make it a great game; we’ve got Bess and George in the (weird, plasticky) flesh, a fascinating and beautiful location, a historical background based in Spanish exploration, the Age of Piracy, and treasure hunting…all of these are great, honestly, and it’s part of what makes RAN so offensively bad — it could have been really great.
Instead of a wonderful game based around pirate treasure, however, Nancy plays games with monkeys, drives on the world’s slowest golf cart, and trusts the only other person on the entire freaking island when he says he didn’t kidnap her friend. Even though he is the ONLY OTHER PERSON ON THE FREAKING ISLAND.
This game is based off of a Nancy Drew mystery entitled “The Broken Anchor”, which actually is fairly close to the plot of the game — the girls win a contest (though in this case it’s one they didn’t even enter) to go to the Bahamas, Nancy arrives (with Carson) and can’t contact Bess or George, there’s a mysterious treasure, etc. etc. In part, I think, RAN’s problems come from following the book too closely, as there’s really very little to the plot of the book. Game plots necessarily have to have a little more meat to them, as you can’t spend the whole time with Nancy pontificating on the scenery or food (as she is wont to do), and RAN is missing a lot of meat.
Specifically, the meat that it’s missing is any suspects at all. Like I said, there’s only one other person (other than Nancy, Bess, and George) on the island, and it’s ‘Johnny Rolle’ — a self-professed fisherman and loner who’s boat has been wrecked by the monkeys.
There are way too many effing monkeys in this game, side note. How I wish the monkeys were a side note.
Nancy, despite her normal M.O when a kidnapping of a friend has taken place, just kinda rolls with his story and accepts it, digging pointless holes in the sand while he definitely has Bess trapped. And then there’s the weirdness with the monkeys trying to kill her as she scales a sheer cliff wall.
Honestly, if I go any more into it, I’m just going to end up tearing it apart piece by piece, and that’s for the Fix section. So let’s move on to the specific things that make this game truly the capstone of the Odd Games.
The Weird Stuff:
This game is, first and foremost, a story about personal revenge — or, at least, that’s the big takeaway, no matter what HER actually intended for it to be about. After being busted by Nancy (and Lillian, and Ralph, but he apparently doesn’t care about them), Dwayne sat in prison stewing over his ignominious defeat at the hands of a teenaged sleuth until he heard about the supposed treasure on Dread Isle. His greed for the treasure combined with his hatred of Nancy began to fester together, culminating in a slightly complex but ultimately stupid plan to get both money and revenge.
This is a motivation unlike any we’ve encountered. Sure, a handful of Nancy Drew villains have sworn their revenge on Nancy (most notably at this point in the series Helena from VEN), but no one has actually done it — until Dwayne.
This should have made the whole game feel intensely personal — and indeed, bringing back tokens and things from Nancy’s past cases and locations should have built to that. However, the game never really comes to a fever pitch of a feeling of someone is watching Nancy and actively hates her, even though it makes a few attempts. More than any other game, Nancy should have been scared here — and it’s odd that she isn’t.
The second odd thing here is the returning villain. I don’t think this is a bad thing at all — I love the idea of a returning villain — but I do think it was a mistake to pick Dwayne Powers. At this point in the series, STFD was hardly a well-known game, and was generally unplayable due to technological advances.
Yes, later STFD would get a bit of a sprucing up and become playable again (and this game, funnily enough, would be relegated to the ‘unplayable’ pile — Dwayne never can win, I guess), but that didn’t matter at the time that RAN was coming out.
There were several better choices — VEN’s Helena, SHA’s Shorty, DOG’s Emily (who had already received a mention recently in DAN) — so why go with Dwayne? Did they pick him on purpose because no one would suspect (or rather, remember) him? Was he the most obscure villain they could think of? Mitch Dillon (who never appeared really) from SCK would have been an equally obscure but somehow more frightening choice. I’m really at a loss to figure out why they chose Dwayne, of all people.
The third thing that makes this game odd is the lack of suspects. Sure, they give a hat-tip to the Gibsons perhaps being hidden on the island (which, let’s just say, they shouldn’t have — never use as a red herring something that would have made the game so much better), but Dwayne/Johnny really is the only suspect.
I have no idea if they were rushed, if they thought that his different identities counted as extra suspects, or if they just wanted to try something different with this game, but it in no way worked. It’s so mind-bogglingly simple to figure out who kidnapped Bess that it makes Nancy look like she’s quite a few sandwiches short of a picnic.
The last Odd thing that I’ll hang on is how incredibly out-of-character Nancy is in this game. We’ve only seen Nancy work kidnapping (or supposed kidnapping) cases a few times in the series as a whole — FIN’s Maya, RAN’s Bess, and GTH’s Jessalyn — but in both FIN and GTH Nancy takes them very seriously, being harsher and more impatient with less time for people’s lies and stories than she usually is, and really feeling the pressure of the clock.
It makes sense; even discounting the Missing Mom trauma that sits deep within Nancy, the first 48 hours of a kidnapping are basically the only window that she has, statistically speaking, to find the victim still alive and okay. She nearly flies off the handle at the suspects in FIN, and digs uncomfortably deep even at very touchy subjects in GTH.
It then stands to reason that, with FIN in the past and GTH in the future, that Nancy would react similarly in this case. Bess is one of Nancy’s best friends, and the friend that we’re shown most often (think of the flashback in SPY; Bess is the one who comes over after Kate and Carson’s fight) around Nancy, like in CRY.
You’d think that, in the face of Bess’ unambiguous kidnapping, that Nancy would be raising hell — contacting anyone she could, taking no prisoners, ripping Dwayne’s tarp down, turning the island upside down, etc. — but instead, she’s calm, almost relaxed, spending time playing games with monkeys and driving aimlessly around the island.
It honestly makes no sense that she’s like this. This is one of a small handful of games where Nancy is deeply, personally invested, where she has a quick running clock, and where the stakes are deadly yet somewhat unknown.
Nancy comes into this with no background, no contacts, no ability to really look things up, and no help — George’s meager efforts do not count — and yet she acts like there are really no stakes. It doesn’t make me dislike her, it doesn’t make me fold that into her characterization — it just makes me say “wow, the writing is really bad here, huh”.
The Title:
Ransom of the Seven Ships is an amazing title; there’s really no getting around this fact. And for the bare bones of the game, it’s more than a suitable title. You’ve got the word ‘ransom’ doing double duty — meaning both treasure and the price to return someone who’s been kidnapped — you’ve got the ships indicating pirate treasure, and that also tells us we’re probably on an island.
Honestly, this is a far better title than this game really deserved (which is half the reason for this meta: turning the game into something that deserves its title). It’s certainly far better than “The Broken Anchor”, its source material, while keeping a pirate-y nature about it. While it’s a little different than most Nancy Drew games’ titles have been up to this point — as they’re usually “The (Adjective) Noun of Location” or “The Adjective Noun”, that’s not a bad thing at all.
This title really does make me sad with how wonderful it is. It deserved so much better. Same with Ship of Shadows, which is also boss.
The Mystery:
Having won an all-expense paid vacation to Dread Isle in the Bahamas (which should have been their first clue that something hinky was afoot), Bess invites Nancy and George along with her. Nancy arrives the day after the cousins, having stayed for a later flight because of a prior engagement with Carson, and is greeted by a frantic George who tells her that Bess has been kidnapped, that the owners of the resort – the Gibsons — aren’t there, and that she’s been worried sick.
Nancy, naturally, senses something Amiss, and sets off to explore the islands, beginning from the pink sand beach where Bess’ water powered golf cart (yes, I know) is still sitting. She discovers Bess’ shoe next to the only other person on the island — a fisherman named Johnny Rolle from Jamaica — and sets off to explore the rest of the island.
Along the way she finds notes from Bess’ kidnappers, instructions on digging for treasure, twisting island paths, and monkeys. So many friggin monkeys. All of whom Nancy must appease in order to progress in her hunt for one of her oldest friends.
Yeah.
As a mystery…well, what is there really to say about the mystery? It should have been over the second Nancy found Bess’ shoe right outside Dwayne’s camp where a Suspicious Tarp Just Big Enough To Hide the Body of a Young Adult was hanging. An intelligent way to draw it out would be to have Nancy discover Bess there, but for Dwayne to pull a fast one on her and trap her below…but this isn’t the fix section, so let’s just move on past that.
If you weren’t going to add in any new characters or suspects, it might be best to have this game flip from a whodunnit to a howdunnit/howcatchem after the first third; as it is (aka since I’m going to add far more characters in The Fix section), we’ll move right along to the suspect in question himself.
The Suspects:
Yes, I know that this part should just be “The Suspect”.
Believe me, I know.
Wearing a whole cornucopia of masks, Johnny Rolle — aka John E. Poole — is an Australian accountant, hiding from ‘bad clients’ by painting himself brown and adopting a horrible (and horribly stereotypical) Jamaican accent. Nancy discovers his ‘true’ identity by finding an ID with his name on it while he’s still in the ‘Johnny’ disguise. Of course, this ‘true identity’ isn’t his true identity as all…
Dwayne Powers —aka Owen W. Spayder — is sitting underneath the bad wig, bandana, brownface, and horrible accents, and is voiced in this go-around by HER’s chameleon of many voices, good ol’ JVS. After hearing about Dread Isle’s rumors of treasure and their monkey research lab shutting down from a volunteer at his prison (yes, we’re already way too complicated for this game), Dwayne started planning to get the treasure and get revenge on Nancy at the same time.
As the culprit…man is Dwayne horrible. He’s so stupid that it really kills me that Nancy actually falls for his act, because it makes her even stupider. It’s not a good plan, it’s not well thought out, it’s not even a complete plan — it relies on too many unknowables. What if Nancy and George had just stormed his camp and found Bess? What if Nancy figured out it was him? Like, I know Dwayne is an egotist, but this is just dumb.
Before I eviscerate any more, let’s just move on to the few good things in this game.
The Favorite:
The best thing about RAN (other than its music, which as always is super good) is honestly its location. Dread Isle is beautifully and uniquely rendered, and doesn’t look like any other game with the pink-sand beaches, beautiful horizon line, and foliage all befitting a Bahamian resort.
I also like the idea of a returning culprit; while it wasn’t handled well here, I do think it’s a great idea as quite a few culprits have promised revenge on Nancy at the end of their games. Do I think it would have been better if it was Helena, who promised revenge only 2 games ago, rather than going back 18 games to a game that most hadn’t played due to lack of availability? Of course; but the idea behind it was sound.
I don’t have a favorite puzzle or favorite moment; even Dwayne’s dramatic reveal is ruined by the fact that Nancy is at all surprised that he was wearing a disguise and, once again, that the only other person on the island was responsible for kidnapping her friend.
The Un-Favorite:
As far as this section goes…there’s a lot that I don’t like, but there are a few things that stand out more than the rest as truly un-favorite.
My least favorite thing about this game, as you might be able to guess, is that it makes Nancy seem so stupid. We’ve had 19 games of Nancy (mostly; this meta series does go over the exceptions) figuring out clues, chasing bad guys, and solving puzzles without breaking a sweat, and then for this game she’s fooled by some makeup, a wig, and a bad accent? At least in STFD Dwayne put some effort into his work; this is just sad, and it’s even sadder that Nancy falls for it.
My least favorite moment in the game is probably the first conversation with ‘Johnny’. Nancy finds Bess’ shoe, gets strung up in a trap, and then believes that the guy sitting a few feet away is innocent and telling the truth? It’s a moment that truly sets up what a crap shoot this game is about to become, and that alone is enough to make it my least favorite.
My least favorite puzzle is anything to do with the monkeys; playing games with them, scaling the cliff, talking to them, talking about them — literally anything. I don’t like monkeys on a good day, but to have so many puzzles in the game revolve around playing their stupid little games with them? Not a good thing at all. Especially since getting around the island (and, of course, the monkeys live quite far away from anything else on the island) is so aggravatingly slow and clunky — it makes everything feel like a total slog.
The Fix:
So how would I fix Ransom of the Seven Ships?
My gosh, just remake the game.
More seriously, there are quite a few things that I would do in order to make playing through RAN a little more enjoyable and a lot more story-driven (and in line with Nancy and George’s characters). As always, I’m trying to keep this as close to the actual game as possible with few or no huge changes, so Dwayne will still be our culprit, Bess will still have won his giveaway, and Dread Isle will still be the spot of El Toro’s treasure.
The first thing I would do is get rid of Dwayne’s brownface/first disguise, and have him be the Australian accountant named John E. Poole, running from Bad News clients who he didn’t allow to cheat come tax day. That sets him up as a good guy to begin with (if a little foolish to cross such powerful clients), and gives a reason why he’s not staying at the resort (he’s trying to hide and not leave a paper/money trail at the same time). He should be staying in a little homemade hut, not with a Suspicious Tarp Obviously Hiding Bess, as he would have had to been on the island for a while to perfect his disguise (and seem trustworthy to the people at the resort).
I would also have the game take place on Nancy’s 19th birthday; if we assume she was barely 18 at the time of STFD, that makes it about a year that he would have been plotting and escaping and setting up this contest and such. It also makes sense as to why Nancy would have a banquet-thing with Carson and why Bess invited her and George — it’s a fabulous birthday party trip, even for the well-off Nancy Drew. That would also add to her anger — this was a great present that Bess (and George) gave her, and Dwayne has just straight-up ruined it.
Another change that would help the atmosphere is to have at least half the game take place at night. I would have the game take place over roughly two days — it ends the night of the second day — so that you can see the island at night. A lot of the demands made by ‘the kidnappers’ should be done at night — treasure digging, in particular — so as to not be more disruptive to the island than a missing persons case would already be.
Of course, one of the biggest things to do would be to add more suspects.
The Gibsons — both of them — should definitely be there at the resort. I’d have one half of the couple be in the resort during the day, and the other at night, so Nancy can interact with them both differently and have different tasks/discussions with them. Perhaps Mrs. Gibson is an expert on the island’s ‘lore’ — El Toro’s treasure and stuff — while Mr. Gibson is more up on island life and is the law enforcement liaison for the island (who can effectively deputize Nancy to help with the search for Bess).
I would also add one other guest who was supposed to check out right before the first note from the kidnappers came in, and is now stuck on the island until the case is solved. What I’d probably do is make them a Secret Australian (to contrast with Dwayne’s fake Australian accent) — sporting an English accent due to a posh upbringing and studying in England for most of their school life, living in England somewhere (maybe near Blackmoor Manor for a cool Easter egg) — who is Very Grumpy about this and thinks Bess ran off to explore and just got lost. I’d probably make them unhelpful to the last — even when Bess is found and had definitely been kidnapped, to just shrug it off and to board the plane to get home as quickly as possible.
The last person I’d add in is someone working the desk — specifically, an older teenager who is very cagey about themselves and how they know what they know, but who seems to know a lot more than they let on. This person would, of course, end up being a member of ATAC, and once Nancy figures it out, would be able to connect you with help from the Hardy Boys. This ATAC member would be scoping out the Gibsons for evidence of getting guests under false pretenses, but would ultimately change their suspicions to Dwayne and help Nancy and George catch him. Through this ATAC teen, the Hardy Boys could use outside information to give Nancy information about monkeys, the island, treasure, El Toro, and anything else that she encounters, as well as spread their feelers out about the Gibsons, the other guest, and John E. Poole.
I would of course want to improve the tone, which would be helped by having more people on the island — Nancy should feel scared that Bess disappeared with this many people around, and it should feel personal. As the game goes on, even with the added help, the walls should feel like they’re closing in. I would include way more second chances, traps, threatening notes, maybe even recordings of Bess screaming or scared or in pain — something that might push the rating to E+ because, quite frankly, the situation calls for it.
Mechanically, I would put way less focus on the monkeys; they really shouldn’t control everything on the island. Keeping them for a minigame and location is cool, but they definitely shouldn’t have their place of prominence in the game.
I would also remove the fact that you can control George. Out of all the games where I think controlling people other than Nancy would be great, this is not one of them. As worried as Nancy should be, this is George’s cousin — practically her sister, from how close their families are and how much time they spend together — and George would probably be in a State. Sure, she can help with some of the tech stuff, but the player definitely shouldn’t be playing as her in this game. It just feels forced, and it’s not necessary.
Would these changes make RAN a fantastic, award-winning game? No, honestly, they wouldn’t. In order to do that, you’d probably have to scrap the game entirely and start over with even barer bones. But I do think it would help to make it at least better and more playable, and I think that’s a win. Let RAN be remembered for its returning villain and its kidnapping plot, not for being the game that everyone skips during a replay of the series.
#nancy drew#clue crew#nancy drew games#ransom of the seven ships#nancy drew meta#RAN#video games#long post#my meta
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"newt isn’t sleazy and is also too busy wrestling with the ethics of hitting on his hot TA if the guy is 5 months older than him to even notice" pleeeease write this
Anonymous asked: "When I Kissed the Teacher" AU ft professor newt and his hot 5-month-older TA hermann
and coincidentally, this older one
Anonymous asked: i just rewatched mamma mia 2 and was wondering if i could request a "when i kissed the teacher" newmann fic?? love your writing!!!!!!
Ask And Ye Shall Receive. sorry ive been MIA 😔 concept from this post I made earlier this month. idk what class newt teaches that hermann would be qualified to TA for but just like, decide for yourselves
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Newt’s never been a list-making kind of guy, or--for that matter--even really a planning ahead kind of guy, but certain circumstances have thrown his life more out of wack than usual lately, and he kind of needs the stability the like of things like lists offer. Desperate times and everything. Or, at the very least, Newt is desperate.
So Newt plans, and plots, and deliberates, and he even agonizes a little, but most of all, he makes a list.
On one half of the page, he writes pros. On the other, he writes cons. On top, he writes--what else?--Hermann.
The problem started in late August. Newt knew for months he was going to be assigned a teaching assistant come that semester--it was him, after all, who’d suggested it to the dean in the first place--but the Hermann Gottlieb of extensive, impressive, overachieving CV and overly-former cover letter was a far cry from Hermann Gottlieb in the flesh. Newt expected a dork, frankly. Someone too socially awkward to feel brave enough to thank someone for holding a door open for him. He expected a PhD student so eager to please he’d cater to Newt’s every whim, whether it was grading horrendous freshman lab reports or fetching him a sandwich from the commissary between class sections.
They met for the first time at the campus coffee shop. Hermann was dressed in an oversized pair of slacks, a threadbare green sweatervest, and honest-to-God saddle shoes; the buttons of his Oxford were done up all the way, from the collar to the cuffs, and an ornate cane was settled against his thigh. His haircut was tragic. “Dr. Geiszler,” he said, all clipped and English, and held his hand out to Newt. “Hermann Gottlieb. It is a great pleasure to meet you. I’m an admirer of your work.”
"Sup,” Newt said, and tried to bump their fists together.
Newt knew he was in deep shit then. It wasn’t just because Hermann was gorgeous (which he was, in a sort of weird, frumpy, ripped-outta-1945 way), or that the scowl he proceeded to level Newt with made his soul wither and his heart race a little bit too fast, but both of those things in conjunction with a big one: Newt was, and is, so fucking love-starved. It’s an unfortunate byproduct of being made a professor when he was as young as he was and completing a PhD before he completed puberty. His early twenties should’ve been spent dyeing his hair terrible colors and adding to his already impressive tattoo collection and having questionable hookups with other young twentysomethings; unfortunately, the only young twentysomethings Newt ever seems to come across are his students, and he has a very strict code of ethics. Not to mention it wasn’t like he was getting any action before that as a weird, gangly teenager with peers several years his senior. He was bound to latch onto the first genius hottie who crossed his path who wasn’t trying to flirt their way into bumping that B- to a B+. And better yet, Hermann is five whole months his senior!
The shit only got deeper when the semester started. No, Hermann was not the sort to fetch Newt sandwiches, or coffee, or Aspirin from his office, nor was he the sort to handle the dreaded lab reports (at least not unless Newt handled them with him), and he definitely wasn’t eager to please. Newt, anyway. If anything the opposite was true: he seemed to actively derive enjoyment from undermining Newt at every turn.
“Wrong,” he’d mutter during class if Newt screwed something up in a lecture, or “No, Geiszler, you’re doing it wrong again,” or “How in the blazes did you get three bloody PhDs when you can’t even do simple addition?” and snatch Newt’s dry erase marker away to scrawl his own answers on the whiteboard. It was less like having a TA and more like having...well, a bitchy, annoying co-teacher. Or, God help Newt, a colleague. And boy, did he wave those five months over Newt’s head like a fucking flag. Newt was immature; inexperienced; clearly not as serious about his studies--his completed studies--as Hermann. Meanwhile Newt’s class (bright young twenty somethings, taller than Newt, cooler than Newt, with more friends than Newt) would giggle and snicker, and Hermann would look smug.
It drove Newt fucking batty.
It also made him, like, super turned on.
The two can co-exist. Apparently. Hermann Gottlieb is already helping Newt discover new and existing concepts; what a fucking excellent TA he is. Someone give that man a raise.
So Newt draws up a list, and he writes Pros, and he writes Cons, and he writes Hermann. The pros are regrettably easy to come up with, because Hermann is Hermann, and (bitchiness and undermining of Newt aside) it’s unfair how many he has. Hot. Stupid sexy accent. Stupidly smart. This is crossed out and replaced with so smart he makes me feel stupid (in a good way), because it seems like an important distinction. Glasses on chain. Mysterious. (In a tall, dark, and handsome way. Sort of. Average height--which is tall to Newt, pale, and handsome. He still scowls more than he talks, which makes him feel mysterious. In a Bronte sort of way. Newt can picture Hermann drawing a billowing cloak around his shoulders and stalking some desolate moor in the moonlight, though in this case maybe’s more of a puffy parka than a cloak.) In tiniest font of all is makes me laugh, because Hermann does, goddamn it, with his snide asides and cutting remarks and sarcasm, often not even directed at Newt when it’s just the two of them alone in Newt’s office at night.
The placement of “is my TA” on the chart is acting as a particular annoyance to Newt, entirely on account of the fact that he can think of several pros and cons for that as well, and he’s not sure whether to nestle it between dark eyelashes and once called me a moron in front of my class and I got a hard-on or beneath sweaters smell like sweat and mothballs, has annoying tic of clearing throat when lost in thought, and the dick wins 86% of our arguments. Sexy forbidden fling. Abuse of power. Is older than me so it's not as weird as it could be? I’m his boss. The school’s paying Hermann though, not Newt, and it’s not like he’s going to scurry off to the dean and demand Hermann’s funding slashed if Hermann turns him down (which he’d most likely do). But it still feels like a breach of ethics.
On the other hand, Hermann is exactly the sort of guy he’d try to pick up at a bar if he still did things like that. (Tenure, rather than giving Newt breathing space to kick back and relax a little, has only increased his obsession with his work, and now when he gets a Friday night free to himself he mostly switches crap on the TV and falls asleep with his cat on the couch.) It’s about the experience, the impossible task of seducing someone who--by all accounts--is too straight-laced and tight-buttoned to indulge in something that debase. They were always the best in bed. Tension, Newt knows, has to snap at some point.
He’d like to wrap Hermann’s personal piano wire around his thumb and bang away at the keys until it snaps, too. Ethics, Newt thinks (folding up the list and stuffing it out of sight), his ass.
Newt sacrifices a Friday night with his cat and Unsolved Mysteries in favor of working on a solution to his Hermann Problem. Swamped with work, he tells Hermann over the phone, it fucking sucks, dude, I could really use your help in my office, and Hermann grumbles, and snaps that Newt should learn to be better prepared for his own damn classes, but declares he’ll be on campus in half an hour and that Newt will be ordering him takeaway for dinner as an apology.
The door swings open at half past five. Hermann is bundled in that heavy parka and scarf (which, even for a Boston November, still looks a little too warm), and his hair is damp. “Is it raining?” Newt says, perhaps stupidly, because there’s not a single droplet of water anywhere else on Hermann’s body.
Hermann makes a face at him and pushes the door shut with his cane. “No,” he says, tersely.
“Then why...” Newt touches his own hair.
“I was taking a bloody bath,” Hermann snaps. “I don’t work on Fridays, as you well know, Newton.”
The use of his full first name stings Newt oddly even as the notion of Hermann luxuriating in a bathtub excites him. “That’s Dr. Geiszler,” Newt snaps back, because goddamn it, he’s Hermann’s boss, he deserves respect, and then mentally adds a small, depressing tally to the Cons half of the board. Ethics, ethics.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says. He throws his scarf and coat viciously at the small couch in the corner of Newt’s office, then takes his usual seat across from Newt. “Well? Where are those papers it’s so crucial we grade?”
Hermann in a bathtub, Newt thinks. Hermann naked. Papers, Newt thinks. “Papers,” Newt says, and he shoves a stack at Hermann with twice as much force as he means to, causing several to flutter to the ground. “We need...to grade them,” he says. Hermann naked, in a bathtub, maybe some candles lit around him, some nice music on, daydreaming about that wretched professor he works for. Damn it. “I have a pen,” he says. “To grade.”
“What on earth are you saying?” Hermann says. “Be quiet. I can’t concentrate with your abominable prattling on.” Then he mumbles something that sounds like incessant, rips the top paper off the stack, and begins to slash at it in red ink. He doesn’t bother gathering the two from the ground.
Why did Newt invite him here, again?
Oh, right. He pushes his glasses up his nose and feigns casualness, pulling out another paper for himself to grade. “A bath,” he says. “Just to, uh, relax? Or...?”
Hermann narrows his eyes. “Or?”
Newt shrugs. “It’s Friday. Were you getting ready for a date or something?”
This time, Hermann’s mouth twists down into a frown. Almost suspicious. “Why do you care?” he says.
“I don’t,” Newt says quickly. “Just making small talk.” God, he could picture some stud of a computer science PhD candidate winning Hermann over with techno babble--or maybe one of his fellow students, ugh, maybe they made a study group together that meets Friday nights, and Hermann was getting all gussied up, goddamn handsome astrophysics grad students--
“I was relaxing,” Hermann says. “You must be aware at this point you cause me a great deal of stress, Dr. Geiszler, on a daily basis.”
“Oh,” Newt says.
He gives up on the small talk after that. Hermann’s promised takeout arrives--a small carton of pad thai--as does Newt’s--a large carton of the spiciest thing they had on the menu--and they eat in silence. They have about three-quarters of the papers to go when Hermann suddenly sits back in his seat with a groan and rubs at his eyes under his granny glasses. “Bugger,” he says. “I can’t fathom this one for the life of me. I’m too tired.”
“It’s getting kinda late,” Newt agrees. “Maybe we should--”
“It’s not that,” Hermann says. “I had a glass of wine earlier, and--oh, it doesn’t matter. Your students need to learn how to write in a way that’s actually bloody legible--it’s like chicken scratch.”
Newt hops up and leans over his shoulder, squinting down at the page. Hermann’s hair smells nice, like something floral, and his skin has a small hint of what could almost be cologne. Why is Hermann wearing cologne? “Okay, let me see it,” Newt says, struggling to keep from getting lightheaded at the close proximity to Hermann. “I’m used to that kind of shit.”
“No,” Hermann says, drawing the paper close to his chest. “I am perfectly capable of managing it on my own.”
“Dude,” Newt says, “let me look at it, seriously. Hermann--”
He manages to tug it away from him. The handwriting is pretty bad, but the math seems to be worse. “Didn’t they do the readings?” Newt mutters under his breath. “That’s not even the right equation for the diameter. I gave them a cheat sheet, man.” They’re junior year engineering students--they should know this shit.
“I know what the equation is,” Hermann snaps. “I can grade it on my own. Give it back.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t know,” Newt says, “I said this kid--”
“It’s the radius squared--”
“Hermann, dude,” Newt says, “I know you’re--”
And that’s when Hermann grabs him by his skinny tie and kisses him, hard.
They stare at each other afterwards. Hermann’s eyes are as wide as saucers; his mouth is hanging open. Newt’s tie slips from his fingers, which then fall limp to his lap. “Holy shit,” Newt squeaks.
Hermann is gone with a swish of his parka and a loud clack of his cane. And with a stack of papers Newt still has to somehow get through. Figures.
Their next few classes together are subdued. Hermann doesn’t interject any of his biting commentary or corrections, or even offer critiques of Newt’s lack of professionalism (when in the past his skinny jeans were such an easy target), and when the period is over, he practically sprints from the classroom before he and Newt can be alone together for even a second. It’s fine by Newt. Whatever. Maybe Hermann can get over it over Thanksgiving break, and Newt can try to get over the memory of Hermann’s strong fingers tugging him down, Hermann’s floral shampoo, Hermann’s chapped, wide lips against his, the little grunt of shock Hermann made as he did it, like he couldn’t believe his own audacity...
It’s not likely.
It’s December, the last week before finals, and Newt’s in his office bundled up in a sweatshirt (because the heat never seems to fucking work in here), revising a draft of an exam, and dreading the thought of trudging home in the snow, when there’s suddenly a knock at his door. Anticipating some overeager freshman here outside of office hours, he doesn’t look up as he says “Come in.”
A familiar clearing of a throat.
Newt shoots straight up to his feet. He knocks a mug of coffee to the floor in the process. “Hermann,” he says. “Uh. Hi. What--what are you doing here?”
Hermann shuts the door behind him, then takes a careful step forward. He’s back in his big dumb coat and big long scarf. “I thought I ought to tell you myself first,” he says, primly. “I’ve submitted a request to the dean to be reassigned to another professor next semester. Our research interests are far more in line, and I don’t imagine our personalities shall clash as much.”
“Oh,” Newt says, pretending his heart isn't sinking in his chest like a hunk of lead. Was he that bad of a kisser? He feels like he deserves a second shot at it--he wasn’t ready last time, you know, he bets he’d really wow Hermann if he had a fair heads up. “Are.. are those the only reasons why?”
“No,” Hermann admits. “They’re not.”
He crosses the room, and corners Newt against his desk before Newt even realizes what’s happening. “They’re not,” he says again, then adds in a murmur (lifting one hand to brush his fingers against Newt’s hair), “Dr. Geiszler.”
Neither of them talk much, after that.
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Hotsy Totsy PT. 2 (T.C.)
Soooo obviously the posting schedule isn’t all I had planned 😅 I’m just going to start posting as I have them ready for you so I don’t put undue pressure on myself and procrastinate my life away lol
Enjoy!!
Stepping out of the wild club and into the cool of the summer night gave Timothée a dizzying sense of deja vu, sending an ache through his chest. Your name reverberated through his mind like a shout in a cave. His trembling hands reached up and ran through his hair as he fought to gain his bearings.
“Tim? What’s going on?” Nick’s brow was drawn together in concern as he followed his friend out into the alleyway. Timothée had always been a hard person to keep up with as he was very connected to his emotions. It often was stressful, but being so close to someone so eccentric was refreshing to Nick; he’d dealt with far too many fake people in his life.
Timothée’s hands fell, meeting his friend’s eyes. “That’s her, man. That’s the girl. That’s-
“Y/N,” they said in sync.
Suddenly, it clicked. Nick felt stupid for not putting the pieces together sooner. He’d known that you had attended college to study musical theater on your parents wealth and your gifted vocal talents, but he didn’t realize that it was the same college Timothée had attended there in New York; he hadn’t even known of the young actor at the time. There had only ever been murmurings of this girl Timothée had met before he’d been drafted, all of which were prompted by heavy alcohol consumption. He’d known her name was Y/N, but he didn’t ever think that it could be his Y/N. He’d only really known you when you were both small children through family events. A little surprised smile crept onto Nick’s face. “Well, this is perfect then! I can get you in to see her-”
“Are you insane? I can’t see her” Timmy interrupted as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He shook his head and anxiety filled his stomach, his arms locked tightly around his torso; there was just no way, not yet at least. He wasn’t prepared for that at all.
“Well, why not? Weren’t you two close?”
Timothée scoffed, turning away from Nick. “I just- I can’t even begin to explain this to you now. I’m going home.”
Nick felt that tug at him a bit. Timothée told him everything, sometimes to a degree that was uncomfortable. However, he continued to refuse to speak about you and what had caused all this tension between you. He stood and watched his best friend’s lanky form disappear around the corner, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
***
The next day, you woke up in your husband’s arms from dreams that made you wish you could sleep all day. Flashes of bouncing brunette curls and honey-pot eyes made you ache to your very soul. However, that was pushed to the back of your mind as James’ blue eyes blinked open, feeling you shift in his arms. “Hello, dollface,” he smiled, his voice rough with sleep and his stick-straight, black hair sticking his way and that, making you laugh softly.
“Good morning, Jamesy,” you smiled. Giggles escaped you as he began pressing tickling kisses along your neck before slipping out of bed and heading into the en suite bathroom in all his naked glory. He was handsome, charming, and a businessman, but now, it suddenly felt like something was missing. Perhaps there always had been. You stood, cursing yourself silently and pushing the corrosive thoughts away once again. You followed after him, slipping into your silky kimono before allowing your hands to snake around his middle while watching him carefully shave his face in the mirror.
“What’s gotten into you this morning?” he chuckled, feeling you press kisses along his shoulder.
“I just… miss you, sugar” you murmured, pressing your nearly naked body against his. This made it obvious to you when he tensed up, rejecting your touches.
“Sorry, toots, don’t have time to play. I’ve got to meet up with a new girl today.”
You cringed at his words, retracting from him to rest your back against the wall, your robe drawn tight and your arms crossed over your chest.
Seeing your face in the mirror, he quickly rephrased. “A new act, darling, a new act.” You just sighed and left the bathroom, a scowl on your face. He didn’t make it any easier for you to pretend you weren’t still thinking about the night before.
***
Nick hung up the phone and stood, slipping on his jacket.
“Where are you headed? Don’t tell me you’re still out chasing that bearcat, are you?” Timothée questioned, a tired but teasing look on his face. He sat cross legged on the floor with his shirt sleeves cuffed up to his elbows and his hair disheveled as he read over a new script. A hundred fine, luxury options for seating in his home, and yet he chose the rug next to the fireplace every time. Nick had never seen him look quite so aged.
Nick laughed, shaking his head. “Mildred? I’m afraid she’s engaged to marry next weekend,” he said in a bittersweet tone.
“Ah,” Tim replied awkwardly. “Don’t worry about it, Nick. You’ll find her soon.”
However, his girl problems were far from the first thing on Nick’s mind. He had just received a call informing him that he was invited to join his cousin for lunch. Before Timothée could ask more questions, he gave him a curt nod and left the room, travelling down the long flight of stairs to the front door. Thoughts swirled in his mind as he hailed their driver. He figured you had seen him with Timothée the night before, and that was what had prompted your call. Perhaps he’d have better luck getting information out of you than he had with Timothée. He hopped into the backseat, relaying the address you’d given him to the driver, trying to put the pieces together.
Meanwhile, you were preparing for his arrival. You wore a simple shift dress with a long string of pearls and wave in your hair as you laid out on the loveseat.
“Why are you having him all the sudden? Hasn’t he lived in the city for awhile now?” Jordan asked, sitting down on the coffee table in front of you.
“Well... because I’m setting you two up, of course!” you replied with a teasing grin, feigning innocence. You weren’t sure if even you knew your true intentions behind having your cousin come to visit, if you were honest with yourself.
On cue, the doorbell sounded.
Nick was greeted by the butler who kindly welcomed him and escorted him into the parlor where you were chatting idly with Jordan. You sat up, peeking at him over the back of the sofa. “Cousin Nicky! Oh, you are so much taller than I remembered you! My goodness, just look at you! You are a real charmer now,” you beamed, making him blush and look at his shoes a bit.
“Oh, stop it, Y/N,” he grinned. You hopped up, hurrying over to him and enveloping him in a tight hug. Something about seeing him eased anxiety pinching in your chest. Nick grinned and hugged you back, relishing how familiar you were to him even after so long.
“Look at me? Look at you! You’re a star, darling,” he flattered, giving you a little spin and making you giggle. Nick felt the warm glow radiating off of you that always lured everyone in, making you so irresistible. However, unlike the others, he could also still see that little girl who had performed loud and proud to all their captive family members at every Sunday brunch. You’d always been a crowd pleaser, often to a fault.
Jordan cleared her throat a bit, reminding you of her presence. “Oh, yes! Nicky, this is my best gal, Jordan,” you said, gesturing to her. She approached Nick, allowing him to take her hand and press a gentle kiss against the back of it. Jordan was tall with an athletic build and an overwhelming aura of confidence. He had short, black hair that framed her sharp facial features, but warm eyes full of mischief. Nick was instantly intrigued and also incredibly intimidated.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she smiled, trying to play nice though it was hardly in her nature.
“The pleasure is mine,” Nick replied coolly, giving her his charming smile.
The afternoon was spent over tea and sandwiches and scones, the three sharing many laughs and stories, becoming acquainted with one another. The girls spoke of show biz while Nick expressed his newfound interest in writing.
However, you were all interrupted by the arrival of the man of the house. You stiffened a bit at first but quickly slipped back into yourself. “Darling, you’re home!” you cooed, hopping up and wrapping yourself around his arm.
James grinned, giving you a little spin, completely opposite of his attitude that morning. “Hello, doll,” he hummed, pulling you to meet his lips.
Nick tried to hide his shock and sipped his tea. He felt silly for thinking she lived in this big house alone, but he really hadn’t even considered a husband being in the picture. He took the man in as he stood to shake his hand; he was average height with a stocky gait and, though he was dressed as a businessman, he was clearly disheveled and smelled of alcohol. Jordan let out a little sigh at his presence before getting up and fixing a cocktail.
Nick struggled not to grimace as James took his hand, giving it a hardy shake. “You must be Nicky, my girl’s cousin. Nice to meet you. James Elliot is the name” he greeted.
“It’s just Nick, actually, but it’s nice to meet you too. I’m afraid I really should be going-“
“Oh don’t be ridiculous! You must stay for dinner,” you interjected, hoping he could sense your underlying tone.
Nick forced a little smile. “Alright, Y/N. I would hate to be a burden.”
The group gathered around the table making idle chat over a chicken dinner. You giggled over James’ every word and spoke as if everything was a shade of rose, nauseating Nick and Jordan who kept matching sideways glances at each other. It was as if you were playing a scripted role. About three quarters of the way through dinner, however, the phone rang from the parlor, silencing you in the middle of your story. Nick sensed tension settle over the table and watched curiously as James hopped up to answer it. He quirked a brow at Jordan, but she simply shrugged and sipped on her wine. You were quiet for the first time that evening, looking down at your food with sickness settling in your stomach. Nick could see that James was smiling into the phone before he hung up and returned to his place at the head of the table.
“Who was calling, James? It seems a bit late,” Jordan questioned.
“Oh, just business,” he replied nonchalantly.
The phone began to ring again.
You audibly sighed, giving James a look. Every night, it was the same game; only this was even more humiliating with your cousin there. You never asked because you didn’t want to know. Maybe because you already did. He placed a warning hand on your shoulder and squeezed as he brushed by to go answer the phone for the second time, making your hands shake.
As James left again, you stood, deciding you’d had enough. You stepped out onto the patio attached to the dining room and fought to breathe. The anxiety attacks had come for about as long as you could remember, but they’d recently evolved into near episodes. Your knuckles were white around the railing as you stared across the bay through tear-fogged eyes, trying to get a grip. You barely registered the sound of Nick stepping out onto the balcony with you.
“Y/N, are you alright? What’s wrong, darling?” He couldn’t help but feel protective over you despite all the time you’d spent away from each other.
You swallowed the knot in your throat, trying to focus enough to speak. “I think everything is pretty terrible, Nicky.”
He took your hand in his, his back against the railing as he faced you with pleading eyes. “Why do you say that?”
“I have everything. I found everything I wanted in life, but it’s never enough.” You continued to stare blankly out at the water. “I fight every day to stay ignorant, to be a beautiful fool. That’s the best thing a girl can be in this world.”
Nick watched you sadly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Never could he have imagined the girl he’d seen on the stage the night before coming home to be the wilted flower before him. He gently tugged on your hand, pulling you into a hug. You relented, feeling some of the tension release from your chest as you exhaled against his shoulder. Nick was just as safe as you’d remembered.
***
After a few awkward, tension-filled goodbyes, Nick and Jordan were escorted out to their drivers.
“It was nice to meet you,” Nick said, trying to be polite despite the obvious discomfort the evening had brought.
“He’s sneaking around with girls from the club,” she said bluntly, stopping Nick in his tracks.
He stared at her dumbly, trying to understand.
“I thought everyone knew,” she sighed, kicking at the gravel. “You know he owns the speakeasy, don't you? He’s sneaking around on Y/N, but she won't confront him because she’s afraid he won’t let her keep performing. He’s given her everything she has here.”
Suddenly, everything you had said on the balcony made sense. Nick ran his hand over his face, still speechless. “I-I just.. wow, um-“
“Yeah.” Jordan was your only confidant through everything that had been going on, and though she carried the weight like a champ, she did ache for you. The only reason she didn’t take things into her own hands was for your sake. “Well, Nick. I’ll see you around,” she said finally, giving him a sad smile before climbing into her cab. Nick did the same, feeling about a thousand pounds heavier than when he had arrived. It wasn’t until then that he remembered his mourning roommate back home. How was he going to relay all of this to him? Letting out a sigh, he laid his head back against the headrest, watching all the people and twinkling buildings pass by outside his window. Perhaps it could all just wait until tomorrow.
When he finally made it back to the mansion, Nick dragged himself up the stoop and inside. As he made his way up the staircase on his way to his room, he spotted Timothée in the same place he’d left him. He was gazing into the fire now with his script abandoned beside him.
“Aye, Tim. What are you still doing up?” Nick asked, leaning around the doorframe. Tim jolted and groaned, rubbing his eyes, clearly startled by his roommate’s return. Nick made his way upstairs toward his room, ready to be out of his suit and not yet ready to tell Timothée where he really had been and what he had learned while he was there.
Timmy held his head in his hands, his elbows propped against his knees. He’d spent the whole night concocting ideas of how he could see you without actually having to see you. All this along with feeling sorry for himself, of course. He’d imagined seeing you again for the past five years and yet, now that it was actually right before him, he had no idea what to do. He stood up with a heavy sigh, anger building internally with himself. Sipping down what was left of his whiskey, he resolved what he had to do.
Long legs carried him swiftly to Nick’s bedroom door where he knocked softly before opening it.
Nick raised a brow, in the process of getting changed. “What is it?” he questioned, seeing the slightly wild look in Timothée’s tired eyes.
“I need you to do me a really big favor.”
TAGLIST: @londonmademedoit @cathyoliveros10
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Quite The Unexpected Outcome
Synopsis: Abigail Lynn, an agent from the information’s district of S.H.I.E.L.D., was given the important task of watching over an important demigod who was not allowed to leave, especially after the stunt he pulled in New York City. While The Avengers try to find a solution to what to do with say demigod, she is meant to watch him through the night. Yet his mannerisms seem familiar, how?
Chapter 1: The First Impression Is Always Important
“You Can NOT Be Serious!” Tony Stark slammed his hands down on his table, staring at the group called The Avengers, who all sat at his large table all somewhat content eating Shawarma.
“It’s rather simple, we’ve defeated my brother and after eating I shall take him, and the tesseract, back to Asgard,” Thor spoke in between bites.
“So you’re wanting us to just let you take him and that danger cube into space, without any of us having any eyes on this fucker?”
“Well what are you wanting to do? Keep him on earth in a jail cell? In case we forgot that already proved to be worthless.”
“That was in the sky and he had backup. Now the guy is powerless, without his army, and currently behaving himself...as best he can.”
“Not to mention that stupid scepter is as far away as possible from him. And that portal is dealt with.” The Avengers continued to argue in this somewhat destroyed building, food scattered across the table as they spoke loudly about what they should decide to do with the currently handcuffed god sitting in a special prison cell. One put behind several doors in S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ and currently holding several agents at each door. Arguing amongst each other, Tony finally turned towards the other side of the table.
“So what do You think about all of this??” The entire team finally looked to their extra guest who was sitting awkwardly at the table. A young woman in a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, hair up in a tight ponytail and arms crossed as she was suddenly remembered through all the arguing.
“Well, I’m not entirely sure. To be honest, the only real reason I’m here is because I was on the job of gaining any info on the one called Loki. And then I was brought onto that ship that almost crashed and killed us all. Only for Fury to put me on the committee in which I basically have permission to offer solutions involving all of this. If I had to guess what they want me to say is that we shouldn’t let him leave after all the damage he’s caused. I think the best option at this point would be to...:” She sways her head in a manner of weighing their options.
“Probably just leave him in his cell, make sure there’s security watching him. The information I currently have on the Asgardians, mostly from Thor, is that they definitely react to electricity. God of thunder or not, so if it makes things easier, I’d say keep a few tasers nearby.” The woman looked to Thor.
“You have an extra set of those cuffs don’t you? The ones that were Asgardian built and magically linked to whoever gets cuffed with them?” At his confirmation she hummed and tapped her foot.
“Tony, you're pretty skilled in making last minute technology. If we had you take these cuffs and toyed with them to add perhaps an electric shock to them? For security purposes, just how long would that take?”
“Depends on a few things. My lab luckily wasn’t destroyed in the chaos, and if I have Banner here assist me we’ll probably divide the time by two.” He sighed and thought about it.
“...I’d say a day, if I start to work on it now.”
“So what are you planning to do...?” Steve looked to the girl who sighed.
“Lynn, Agent Lynn.” Steve nodded.
“Right, you were part of the teams sent to talk to me when I awoke.”
“Yup, I’ve also been part of Shield long enough to recognize...well, all of you really.” She looked across the table with her arms crossed.
“You know the way you sound makes you seem older than you look.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, but I’m still younger than all of you.”
“So they sent a child to babysit a god?”
“I’m 24, I would suggest not calling me a child.”
“24?? Oh you’re definitely a kid.” Agent Lynn rolled her eyes and sat up.
“If I’m not mistaken there are two other agents nicknamed Lynn.” Hawkeye commented while leaning on the table.
“You’d be correct, those are my parents.”
“So what do you want us to call you so we’re not basically calling you three the same name?” She narrowed her eyes towards Widow and Hawkeye, sighing and leaning back.
“Abigail.”
“Right, Abigail.”
“Miss Abigail, what do you honestly expect to gain for keeping Loki here of all places?” Abigail looked to Thor.
“Honestly?? Keep my boss from being pissed. Most of the world organization wants Loki to pay for what he did, the world is pretty much waiting for an update after everything that happened, as this is the second time he’s come to New York and done damage.”
“Not to mention, killed several people.” Abigail hummed, looking to her drink she had been sipping.
“...If I’m to be completely honest though, I do have a question we’re not seeming to ask.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
“...Who sent Loki?” The room grew silent, all eyes locked on her now.
“What do you mean? Loki came here himself, this was his plan all along, right?” They all seemed to nod amongst themselves, aside from her.
“Then where did this army come from? Or the other one from before? I’m mostly information down at Shield, and I noticed that both times he didn’t come alone. I imagine none of those creatures were from Asgard, Thor?”
“Well...no, but my brother is very persuasive. He’s always been known to convince others to do his bidding if they have sharing interests.”
“That’s fair, but it seemed almost...like he wasn’t completely in control. The security footage shown when he first arrives doesn’t show the face of confidence. It shows...confusion. Like a moment of coming up with a plan on the spot. Granted, he could have just not realized where the tesseract would open and land him, but his mannerisms seemed a bit different from most others who purposely plan to destroy everything.”
“Good note, but also at this point we don’t really need to worry about that. They were cowardice enough to send their army and Loki, so it’s most likely they won’t be coming here any time soon. In reality this meeting is more or less to decide whether or not we let Thor take his brother with him, or if we punish this demigod by keeping him here on earth.” Tony stood from his chair, most of the others following.
“Give me until tomorrow to finish those cuffs, I’d say Banner and I will work on it, while you keep a close eye on Loki. If he tries to escape...well....if the taser doesn’t work, I’m sure the big guy wouldn’t be against throwing him around a bit more.” He patted Bruce on the shoulder before they walked out. As everyone began to separate, Abigail glanced at the table a bit, hearing her stomach growl but ignoring it. She’ll just fill up on her drink. She picked up her bag and started to walk out.
“Hey, Abigail. Are you hungry?” She stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“Oh, no I’m fine.”
“Well that’s bullshit. We did just hear your stomach growl, didn’t we?” Clint and Natasha walked to each of my sides, seeming to read me like a new book in the library.
“Okay you caught me, I just don’t like...shawarma?”
“Well there’s other places around here that haven’t been destroyed, what’s the matter? Waiting on your next paycheck?”
“You’d think they’d pay her well enough. Obviously you’re hungry.”
“Guys.” She sighed and glanced towards Steve that approached them.
“...I’ll buy you lunch, come on.”
“You don’t have to, I can pay for it myself.”
“Well let’s say it's on me today. You can get it next time, come on.” She had absolutely no idea how in the hell these three convinced her to go with them. She was supposed to go right back home and report to her parents after the meeting. If they find out she’s out socializing…
“So what do you want on it?”
“Huh?” Abigail blinked back into reality only to realize they had dragged her all the way to a sandwich shop.
“Your sandwich, do you know what you want on it?” Abigail looked up at the menu and hummed. After a minute or so she ordered what she wanted and got it to go.
“Thanks, I didn’t need you to pay for it.”
“I said you’ll get it next time right? Don’t think anything of it.” She nodded with a slightly relaxed look.
“...Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow for the next meeting.” She took her bag of food and started to head back. Her parents are gonna be pissed when she brings food. Shit. Maybe she should stop somewhere and scarf this? Or a homeless person could cross her path and she just hands it to them. As she thought of a plan she almost didn’t hear her phone go off. It was in its final ring when she answered.
“Yes?”
“Agent Lynn, we need you to return back. We have an assignment for you.” Oh, good.
“I see, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Should take about ten minutes.”
“Copy, report to me when you get here.” She hung up. Report to Fury? She had a sneaking suspicion this wasn’t paperwork about the attack. Looking to her food, she gripped the bag and headed back towards work. On the bright side, this kept her from home for a little while longer. Walking the streets was utter chaos at this point. People were being interviewed by every tv station in the city. Reporters everywhere were asking anyone they saw their opinions of The Avengers. Ridiculous, to think that the stations would all go such different lengths and directions to get different possible conclusions of the same group. Some say they feel safer, others feel they are scared now knowing they aren’t alone. Did they really think that before? Perhaps it was her job, but she didn’t believe it possible a planet full of people like her had to be the only life. That an entire planet of people like her parents...were the only signs of life. She could never accept such...a disappointing idea. Finally making it to where she needed to be, she found herself standing in front of Fury and his second in command.
“Sir.”
“Agent Lynn, we found something interesting in our security footage before our…” He glanced over to his second in command before back to her.
“Unfortunate experience in the aircraft. It seemed you were one of the ones watching over Loki before Agent Romanoff entered the room.” She nodded.
“That’s correct, is something wrong?”
“Not...entirely, but I did want an explanation.” He led her to one of the computers and pulled up the footage. She watched as her image walked into the room and sat at the chair in front of the seemingly ignoring Loki. Abigail watched the footage, remembering back to when the footage was recording.
“Hey there.” He didn’t seem to want to chat, it made sense, but at the same time, she noticed the look on his face when he got here. He was smiling when he was brought here.
“...Are you thirsty? Maybe you want some water?” No answer once again. Abigail accepted that and took a notebook from her bag. She sat in silence just scribbling in her in the pages.
“..What do you think you’re doing here?” His voice caught her off guard, her eyes looking up towards him.
“...Um...I’m sitting...chilling, I guess?”
“No, I mean, that really was a poor attempt. You spoke twice to me, and then gave up. What is your business here? To watch me? Get answers from me?” He paced around his cell with his arms behind his back. Abigail stared at him the entire time.
“....You know it's almost interesting. I didn’t expect you to talk to me at all. I’m just here to watch you. I offered water because you admittedly look really thirsty. Tired too, like you haven’t had something to drink in days. No offence though.” He stared her down with a suspicious glare.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t expect anything really? I’m merely a watcher. Plus you look bored. I think I have a book in my bag you can read.” She spoke so calmly, staring him in his eyes while speaking. He looked her up and down with almost a look of disgust.
“You really must be stupid to underestimate me. How do you expect to get me water, or a book for that matter? Unless you’re wanting to open the door~”
“Hm, you have a point. I guess I could go get Thor, or Iron Man, or Cap. They could get you water.” He stared at her with a suspicious look.
“Was that supposed to be funny?”
“Funny? No? Am I funny?”
“No, strange is more like it.”
“I get that a lot.”
She went back to her notebook, pulling out coloring pencils and continuing to doodle. He had very bright eyes, they looked a lot like his possessed team. Maybe that’s what that means, that he’s in all of their heads. She wasn’t sure though. The more she stared at him the more he seemed to notice it, giving her perplexed looks and glares sometimes. She always replied with a smile, going back to her drawing. He really did look tired. If she focused long enough she could almost have sworn he had bruises under his collar. And a few scars peaking out that almost made her stomach tighten. Burn Marks, she knew them well. Her eyes stayed downward for the rest of the time that they sat in silence. Then he finally spoke.
“What have you been doing in there?”
“Hmm? Oh, this?” She looked at him and pointed at her book.
“I’m drawing. Your outfit is quite stylish, so I decided to draw it.”
“You’re...drawing me?”
“Yeah, you have an interesting look to you. I love the color scheme too. Did you want to see?”
“...I suppose.” She stood up and showed her notebook to him through the glass. It was mostly profile based, with an outline of his outfit on a separate page uncolored. The profile image of him however, was fully shaded and she had begun coloring his hair and skin, He hummed.
“So that’s why you’ve been staring me down. I almost wondered if you had fallen for my charms already~” She cracked a smile, rolling her eyes.
“So smooth~ Do you often try to flirt with your wardens?” He chuckled.
“I’m not often caught, miss?”
“Oh, I’m Abigail. Sorry I should have said something before.”
“Abigail, and you’re an agent here?”
“Well, I’m here. I think you already know that. You aren’t dumb, Loki.”
“That is true, I’m not~” He looked down at the notebook once again, before looking back up at her.
“Water sounds lovely, is there a way you can do that?” She looked up at him for a moment, giving him a patient smile and closing the notebook.
“You’re not dumb, but neither am I Loki. If you really want water I can talk with the others to get you some. I don’t think it's a good idea for me to…” She heard the door open and turned towards it, seeing her mother who glanced in with a darkened glare. She felt her chest tighten.
“Your time is up, we need you elsewhere.”
“Yes Ma’am.” She glanced over to Loki, who seemed to stare in her mother’s general direction. She left with her mother out of the room.
She watched Fury pause the footage.
“It seemed you somehow got Loki to talk freely with you, without any real interrogation.”
“Well I wasn’t trying to get answers out of him. I don’t know what he was thinking, but it seemed he was quite bored waiting for something.”
“Probably the fact he was waiting on the possessed Hawkeye to break him out. He probably thought you might know something as you are an agent here.”
“It’s possible, but it’s also possible he wasn’t expecting anything from Agent Lynn and unintentionally let his guard down.” She watched the two discuss her right in front of her. Eventually the two looked back to Abigail who sat politely silent.
“...We brought you here to watch him again.” With a tilt of her head she stared up at the two.
“You need a night guard? Or a babysitter?”
“Consider it a little bit of both. Perhaps you could get some information out of him, try and figure out if there’s anything else he has planned. Stark has already made it aware to us that you vocalized an idea. Something about keeping him here with some upgraded alien tech?” She nodded.
“Yes sir, but I also think we should tell the world organization that Loki was sent home.”
“Excuse me?” She watched the second in command cross her arms.
“The world organization wants the tesseract for weapons, if they can’t have that, then they’ll take what they can get. No offense sir, but you know as much as I do about how the world deals with powerful beings. Most of them are vigilantes that roam free or are villains who get locked away if they can’t be persuaded. What happens to the villains that are persuaded?” He glanced over before returning eye contact with Abigail.
“...Just how much information do you have on that?”
“I’m in the information district sir. I know as much as they allow me, and considering my parents’ position here, they allow a lot.”
“That’s fair. Well, what is your plan here?”
“I have no plan. Truth be told I think the smartest idea would be to leave him under the eyes of those who defeated him. He’s broken out of Shield technology before, and while we now have more info of what he can do, I have a feeling it’s not everything he can do. My statement for now is that we wait on Tony and Banner to make the cuffs, and tomorrow we discuss where would be a safer place to hold him, since the world organization would immediately come here, and considering we had two jets go rogue, it’s not a stupid assumption that they have more spies in your agency.”
“Hence why it's just us three here. So, will you be taking the night shift?” She hummed and looked around, thinking for a moment. She’d get more time away from home.
“Sure, I’m gonna need some water though.” They gave her a strange look, she lifted the bag she was carrying.
“I have a sandwich which is going to be my dinner. Lots of bread, I’m gonna need some bottled water.” Seeming to understand they allow her to go to the break room for the agents on their lunch, and she grabs quite a few bottles of water and a jar of pickles. She had no idea who’s jar of pickles this was, but she didn’t care. Once she had her stuff she had them lead her through the several doors and intricate pathway to get to the center of the cells. They stopped at the last door.
“This is it, as of today you have access to the lock, but we also recognize your fingerprints, so don’t fuck up.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it sir~”
She smiled softly, before watching them leave down the hall and listening to each door close behind her further and further away. She took in a slow breath, looking at her watch and humming. Alright, don’t panic. You’ve been in a room with him before, and nothing happened. Well, except the whole ship almost crashing. Then the thought went through her head. Whatever he could do to her...couldn’t be any worse than she’s already experienced. And if he killed her, that would actually be better than what waits at home. She had to admit that sounded so edgy, but she didn’t really care. Taking in a deep breath, she prepared herself and placed her hand on the scanner. The doors opened and inside she found a large see-through glass cell, glancing up she noticed a familiar lining of metal wires. An electric fence. She hummed in thought and seemed to grab his attention. He turned on his heels, seeming a bit more skittish than before. Their eyes met, one pair of dark hazel eyes, and other a rich combination of blue and...green? It was mostly green, which almost confused her. Her eyes read him like an open book as fast as she could before he’d slam said book shut and hide it away. He was covered in bruises now, even quite the goose egg right on his temple. It made sense, he did go hand to hand with The Hulk. She took steps forward, watching him build his walls as fast as he could, a defensive stance forming in the process. The closer she got the more she noticed, and the more her heart seemed to tighten. Why did this body language seem so familiar? Like he was almost prepared for the worst. Then it hit her…
“...Abigail.” She stared up at him, before a small saddened smile formed on her lips.
“Hey Loki…” She tightened her grip on her bag. He looked just like…
Herself.
Chapter 2:
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Wherever You’re Going (I’m Going Your Way) [3/6]
Summary: 1952. A lost boy without a home, Killian Jones rides America’s back roads on his motorcycle, searching for a purpose that’s just out of reach. This pit stop was only supposed to be a few days, a couple of weeks at most, but a pretty blonde waitress just might be his salvation. Is he brave enough to let her? Rated T for language. ~3.6K. Also on AO3. Ch. 1 Ch. 2
~~~~~
Killian spends the next day kicking himself for the way things ended in the diner. The simple thing would be to go back to the diner the next day — to prove with his presence alone that it’s alright, that he didn’t mean to stop the conversation entirely, even if he wasn’t willing to follow that one particular thread.
He doesn’t.
He spends a lot of time lying awake, replaying the moment he brought things to a screeching halt over and over again. It’s a form of self-flagellation, for certain, but it’s still better than the nightmares his mind conjures up night after night. There’s only so much the stars can do to calm him when he sees the same flames and crushing waves night after night. Reveling in his shame and recriminations is much preferable.
(The sensible thing, of course, would be to stop lying awake in the dark and to just go to the diner for a pot of tea and a distraction. It’d give him a chance to make up for his own stupidity.)
(Killian Jones is not nearly that sensible.)
What really gets him is that he felt like there was a genuine connection between the two of them. It’s been a long while since Killian has felt so comfortable talking to another person, able to leave some of his regular self-consciousness behind. It had seemed to go both ways, too — like she understood him on some level, and wanted to hear what he had to say. Maybe if he hadn’t been so curt; maybe if he had been willing to open himself up more… but it’s no use. What’s done is done, and besides, Killian can’t truly regret not sharing more, even if he does regret what that meant for whatever was shared between him and Emma in those moments. He’s not ready, or willing, to talk about all the reasons he fled — not yet. Not even with blonde angels who make him feel like a man again.
It’s an unspeakable surprise — not to mention, relief — when Emma shows up at the garage with a sack lunch from Granny’s two days after their unceremonious parting. His pulse picks up the moment she walks in the open garage door with paper bags in each hand, evidently not feeling any of the same anxieties he is.
“Anyone hungry?” she calls lightly, smiling at Killian like any awkwardness is forgotten. Maybe it is. He’d be a fool to bring it up again.
“Is that you, Emma?” David hollers from across the shop where he’s camped out under the hood of a truck, replacing one of its radiators.
“Sure is,” she responds easily. “I’ve got a tuna salad sandwich here with your name on it, too. Unless you’d rather knock around under the hood…”
“Don’t be silly,” David responds with a fond tone to his voice as he wipes his hands on a spare rag to get rid of the worst of the grease. “You know I’ll never say no to food, especially not Granny’s tuna salad. Fries?”
“Of course, I know how this works.”
Killian looks back and forth between the two of them in confusion; there’s a level of familiarity here that he hadn’t expected. “I’m sorry, do you two know each other?” It’s a bit of a silly question, considering the interaction he just witnessed, but truthfully, he’s a little lost. This was not remotely what he expected to happen. Then again, Storybrooke is a small town; it stands to reason that everyone knows everyone. He’s still stuck in that big-city mentality, he supposes.
“Emma’s like a little sister to me,” David explains as he slings his arm around her shoulders.
“Am I little, or are you just old?” she jabs back. The familiarity of that exchange sends a brief jab of pain shooting through Killian’s heart; it’s so reminiscent of the way he and Liam used to poke at each other, the way Killian constantly had to insist that he was younger, not little.
(He’ll never have that again, and it hurts. He’d put up with all matters of teasing, if it meant he could have his brother back.)
“We’ve known each other since we were, what, teenagers?” David continues, obviously ignoring Emma’s teasing. “Ever since she came up from Portland to stay with Miss Ingrid, God rest her soul.”
“Twelve years now,” Emma nods. “And he’s been insufferable ever since.”
(There’s more of a story there, Killian thinks, but he knows not to push. He’s got things he’s not willing to share either, after all, as they more than proved the night before last.)
“Anyways, I brought you lunch, too, Killian,” Emma says. “I didn’t know what else you’d like, so it’s just ham and cheese again.”
“Again?” David butts in. Killian can practically see the other man’s big brother instincts kick in, which has rarely meant good things for him. People say he’s a bad influence, after all, and Killian isn’t sure he disagrees. “You two have already met?”
“At the diner, you pest. Stand down, soldier, or… something.” Emma rolls her eyes, but the affection is still obvious between the two of them. That’s not something you can mask, even if one is exasperated and the other’s an arse. That’s siblings, really — you love them, even when they grate on your nerves. Even when they’re just connected by love, rather than blood. “Anyways, I just wanted to make sure you were both fed. I’ve got to get back to the lunch rush, actually. I’ll see you later?”
She must be talking to David — she must. Nothing else makes sense. That doesn’t change the fact that she makes eye contact with Killian as she speaks, holding his stare until he gives a small nod in the affirmative. David says something in the background — probably agreeing, if Killian had to guess — but he’s not listening in the least, far more interested in anything Emma is doing. It’s because of that single-minded attention that Killian can see the small smile she offers him in return, just large enough to begin to round her cheeks and crinkle her eyes. Maybe she did mean to say it to him after all; why else would she smile at him like that? Killian is left with so many questions, but at least he knows she wants so see him again — that he hasn’t mucked things up beyond any repair.
“So were you going to mention that you knew Emma?” David asks, taking a hearty bite of his sandwich.
“I didn’t know I needed to, mate. I didn’t realize you two even knew each other, let alone so well, until just now.” His own sandwich is just the way he likes it, and the fries somehow still nice and warm. It’s astounding to him that Emma would think to bring him lunch as well; he’s a lucky man, to have earned her kindness.
“Hmph.” David picks a few fries of his own out of the bag. “I don’t need to give a warning talk or anything, do I?”
“No,” Killian answers immediately — perhaps too hastily. “I mean, she’s a lovely girl — sweet and beautiful and… Maybe under other circumstances, if I wasn’t just passing through…” If I was a different, better man, he thinks — just another thing he can’t say.
David huffs again. “Well, just… be careful.”
“Aye. I will.”
———
He’d promised David he’d be careful, but he never promised he’d stay away — even if he maybe should have. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s 7pm, and while he ought to stay away, he’s back sitting in Granny’s booth yet again.
Emma doesn’t even ask tonight — just brings him a pot of tea, their own little routine that Killian hadn’t realized that they’d fallen into.
“What else can I get you?” she asks, pen poised and ready to take his order.
He hasn’t even looked at the menu, truthfully, and it seems foolish to frantically scan now. “What would you recommend?” he asks instead.
“Granny makes a mean lasagna.”
“I’ll take that then,” he replies with a smile, tucking the menu back away behind the napkin holders from where it had been resting on the table.
“Can I get you anything else?” She smiles back.
Just that little gesture makes him bold, gives him the courage to ask a little more. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the company, if you’ve got the time.” Just as soon as he speaks the words, his bravery flees again. “Only if you’d like to, of course, I’d never presume — ”
“Yeah, that sounds nice,” she replies with a laugh. “I’m off in an hour, we can chat a little after that.”
The lasagna is just as good as promised, but Killian doesn’t remember most of the taste, spending an anxious hour anticipating Emma sliding into the booth. It’s still hard to believe his eyes when she finally does, slipping across the vinyl with a small plate of pie so casually like it’s a habit of theirs. Killian feels like his heart is about to thunder out of his ears, but she looks undisturbed — happy and confident and calm. God, he envies her for that calm right now.
“So, we meet again,” she teases, nudging the plate his way. Chocolate meringue tonight — an excellent choice in Killian’s opinion, not that that matters for much of anything. What’s more, there’s two dessert forks propped against the edge of the ceramic saucer. Clearly, and for some reason Killian can’t begin to imagine, she intends for them to share — and damn if that doesn’t put a nervous flutter in his stomach to match his frantic pulse.
“We meet again,” he echoes. “You’re off for the evening, then?” It’s a stupid question, something he realizes as soon as the words leave his mouth; she’d said she’d join him once she was off work for the night, and now here she is. It doesn’t take an idiot to connect the dots… and yet here he sits.
Angel that she is, she thankfully doesn’t hold it against him. “Yep. No more night shift until Monday. No book tonight?”
“I tucked it away before you came back,” he admits. Lord, he’s even blushing to talk to her — can already feel the heat in his ears. “If I didn’t say it earlier, thank you for lunch today. I’ll pay up tonight.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Emma says, waving her fork through the air in dismissal. “David’s got a tab, I just tucked it on there. Trust me, a ham sandwich is not going to put him into financial straits.”
“Thank David, then,” he grins cheekily, in a burst of confidence. As he and Emma settle into conversation, speaking becomes easier, some of his old surety trickling back into his voice.
“Oh, we’ll be sure to,” she grins right back. He’d almost say she looks a little mischievous, and though he probably should have expected that from a younger sibling, that doesn’t mean he expected it from Emma Swan.
(He likes it — the way it makes her a little less perfect and a little more real.)
“I had assumed you were born and raised in Storybrooke,” he comments as he swipes a bite of pie with his fork. “So when you said you hadn’t been any further than Portland…”
“It’s because I grew up there, yeah,” she nods.
“So how did you end up in Storybrooke, then?”
The smile is less happy this time. “It’s not exactly a happy story,” she tells him.
“I’ve got time and rum,” Killian offers, earning a disbelieving look in return.
“Seriously?”
Quickly, he pulls the flask out of the inner pocket of his coat. It’s a terrible habit, and he knows he shouldn’t, but on nights when nothing else helps, sometimes the alcohol can help relax him enough to find sleep.
“You’re a regular pirate, aren’t you?” she teases as she plucks the flask from his hand.
“Can’t say I’ve been accused of that before.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” She punctuates the statement with a swig from the flask, pulling a face as the alcohol hits her throat. “Whoo, that’s got a kick.”
“Well, it is rum, darling,” he teases back. “If you wanted something gentle, you should have asked for tea.”
“Hot chocolate,” she mumbles. Really, Emma looks quite fetching with her cheeks tinged blush pink. Not that it makes her mumblings make more sense.
“Come again?”
“Hot chocolate,” she repeats more clearly. “That’s my preferred drink. I like sweet stuff.”
You’re the only ‘sweet stuff’ I see here. The quip is on the tip of his tongue; he could just let it slip off. But that would be flirting, and it wouldn’t be fair to her to open that box. Besides, he promised David that nothing would happen. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says instead. “But I think you might be deflecting, love.”
“I know,” she sighs.
“You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to —”
“That’s not the issue,” she interrupts. “I’ve got rum, you’re a good guy, it’s completely common knowledge… it’s fine. Just hard to get started.” She takes another swig of the rum; maybe he should order her one of her precious hot chocolates to temper it. “The gist is, I grew up in an orphanage in Portland. I was left at a church as a baby and stayed in the orphanage until I was fostered out when I was fourteen. Someone knew someone who knew Ingrid, who was willing to take in a teenager to help her out, and I ended up in Storybrooke.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you, Swan.” And he is; it’s not just pretty words. He’s been through similar, and it’s not something he’d wish on anyone.
She shrugs. “It’s fine. I mean… it’s not, but it got me here, which was the best case scenario. And Ingrid was… amazing. Just this no-nonsense woman who owned a little ice cream shop. She was soft-spoken, but you didn’t mess with her. She only died two years ago now.”
“You must miss her.”
“I do. She was… really good to me. I was really lucky that she took me in.” Emma smiles softly at the memories. “I met Mary Margaret at school — she was Blanchard, then, not Nolan — and David… I don’t even know how. He’s a year older than us. In this town, though, you get to know everyone without even trying, and sometime around when Mary Margaret and David started dating, he started treating me like his little sister. It’s kind of annoying, honestly.”
“But nice,” Killian points out. He knows that from experience.
The barest hint of a laugh joins the fond smile Emma’s worn the whole time she’s spoken of the Nolans. “Yeah. Nice too.”
“I was in a… not dissimilar situation,” Killian says as casually as he can, twiddling his leftover tea spoon just for something to do with his hands. “My mother died when I was about eight, and my father wasn’t much interested in playing that role. Just took off. After that, my brother and I got shuttled off to a never-ending series of great-aunts and distant cousins and the like.”
“At least you had family to start with,” Emma comments mournfully.
“True. But at least you ended up with one in the end.”
That brings the smile back. “I did. I take it that it wasn’t the same for you? What about your brother?”
Killian makes a conscious effort not to freeze up again, to relax the tension from his body and answer her. She’s revealed a lot of herself to him, here at this booth; it’s only right that he be willing to do the same.
“He’s gone, I’m afraid,” he manages to say, even mustering a sad smile and tilt of the head to try and show that it’s alright. It’s not, but Emma doesn’t deserve to feel like he’s angry about telling her. “Joined the Navy when the war started up and died in a German submarine attack.”
“I’m sorry, Killian.” She reaches across the table to squeeze his hand in comfort.
“It’s alright.” It’s still not, but that’s what you say to such things. “That just means I’m all on my own.”
Emma squeezes his hand one more time before releasing it. “I’m sure you’ll find a family some day, even if you have to make your own.”
And Lord, he hopes that she’s right.
———
“You’re not still sleeping on that bench, are you?” David asks, startling Killian. He had been, actually; in fact, David had woken him up. Most days, Killian is up and waiting by the time David gets to the garage, but he’d had a good night’s sleep for once, and apparently not woken up in time. Either that, or David has arrived early. Either way, he’s been caught in the proverbial act.
“Where else would I be?” Killian retorts as he hurriedly puts himself back together, slipping his leather jacket back on and grabbing his bag from where it’d been serving as a make-shift pillow.
“Settle down, Jones,” the other man soothes, lifting his hands in surrender. “No need to get defensive. I just figured you would have checked into one of the rooms at Granny’s Inn.”
Killian tries to settle some of his instinctive snappish reaction; he knows it’s just from embarrassment at being caught like this. “Ah, well, if the weather turns foul, I will. As long as the nights are pleasant, though, I’d rather save the money, I don’t have that much on me.”
“You should have said something,” David scolds. “You could have slept on the couch in the garage. I’ve got a spare key you could use.”
Killian stares at him in bewilderment for a moment. “You’d trust me to do that?”
David shrugs. “Of course. Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
“I mean, most wouldn’t. It’s no offense to you mate, it’s just… folks don’t usually trust a stranger who looks the way I do in small towns like yours.”
“The way I see it, there’s been plenty of opportunities for you to rob me blind already. Especially since I’ve trusted you with the cash register. And you haven’t. Will that change if I let you sleep on something inside and cushioned?” David asks with a knowing look on his face.
“Of course not.”
“That’s what I thought. You’ve been here on that bench for nearly a week, and I don’t want to think about how long you’d been doing the same before that. Besides, if you’re working for me, I’ll get better work from you well-rested,” he winks.
“I’d hate to be a bother —”
“I can grab the spare key from the house over lunch. Let me do a nice thing for you, Killian.”
And Lord help him, he accepts.
It’s more than just a couch, too — it’s pillows and several crocheted afghans and a volume of detective stories, all courtesy of Mrs. Nolan, when David comes back from lunch with the key. He feels welcomed in a way that he didn’t expect when he went to sleep last night — let alone at this time last week.
Killian goes through the day with… if not happiness in his heart, then something close. He and David were able to finish a major repair this afternoon, he’s got a place to sleep, and he’d spent a lovely evening at the diner with Emma, where she’d brought him a pot of tea without him even asking and later a serving of meatloaf to go with it. They’d talked until after eleven at night about anything they could think of — favorite novels, stories of David as a teenager, places they’ve always wanted to see, until Killian couldn’t justify loitering any longer as Emma worked the night shift. It’s perfect, even if he has to ignore the flutter of feelings growing in his heart.
He should have known, though, that things were just a little too good to last.
Killian walks back to the garage with a feeling he might almost call hope rushing through his veins. Hope for what, he’s not sure; he certainly can’t think of any reason that should warrant it. Hope, maybe, that there are still people out there capable of seeing past what they believe of him: the loner, the tramp, the ungrateful bastard who won’t just take their pretty words. Hope that someone thinks he might still be a good man, an ordinary man.
(The voice in his brain whispers that maybe he just hopes that Emma sees him that way, the first person in what feels like ages not to look at him with suspicion for even a moment and to treat him with kindness just for the simple sake of being kind.)
(It’s amazing, the way a perfectly uneventful night can sink into his soul.)
In retrospect, perhaps that was the folly — an overabundance of happiness and hope. He should know better than to think that everything can go his way in more than a momentary way.
The problem comes when he attempts to get back into the garage. He has a key, of course, thanks to David, but that doesn’t change just how dark it gets in this corner of Maine, every single star visible but not the deadbolt. There’s a streetlight on the corner, but that doesn’t do much good when Killian’s own body is casting a shadow over the lock and he just can’t fit the key to the lock. He’s nearly got it, has got the edge of the key into the slot, when —
Gravel crunches behind him and a sudden beam of light casts right over his silhouette. “Step away from the door, please, and hands in the air.”
~~~~~
Whoops, sorry. Not really. Let me know what you think!
Tagging: @kmomof4, @aerica13, @thisonesatellite, @searchingwardrobes, @let-it-raines, @teamhook, @ohmightydevviepuu, @optomisticgirl, @winterbaby89, @spartanguard, @scientificapricot, @snowbellewells, @welllpthisishappening, @tiganasummertree, @captainswanbigbang, @snidgetsafan, @thejollyroger-writer, @profdanglaisstuff
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richard pipen is the worst pre-med student ever: death caps in the secret history
"Judy, what would you do if you had a hundred and three degrees of fever?”
“I would go to the fucking doctor,” she said without looking away from the TV.
must i say anything else
This post may contain errors, and anyone is welcome to point them out.
@sadbabywltch gets a thanks for the inspiration
some context
"You studied medicine for a while, didn't you?” [Henry] said.
I knew this to be a prelude to some health-related inquiry. My one year of pre-med had provided scanty knowledge at best...
I’m going to cite some parts of The Secret History, but I cannot copy the entire text of the scene in question. If you haven’t read it, this scene won’t make as much sense.
This post contains extensive discussion of mushroom poisoning as a murder method, so consider yourself warned. This post also contains math and biology, so people allergic to either should turn back.
Richard Pipen knows absolutely nothing about medicine. And I intend to prove that.
on amanita phalloides
Aka, death cap. The most poisonous out of all known mushrooms - half a mushroom (30 grams) is enough to kill a grown human. If Henry had really done extensive research, he should know that - and he said that he has.
“You have no idea how much thought I've put into this. Even to the strain of poison. It's said to make the throat swell, do you know that? Victims are said to be struck dumb, unable to name their poisoner.”
He should also know that the throat swelling is a myth. A.phalloides cause gradual organ failure. Symptoms of poisoning occur twelve hours later, too late to seek treatment, and death generally occurs six to sixteen days after the poisoning.
He should also know that there are less toxic species of Amanita. For instance, Amanita muscaria (fly agaric) is a hallucinogen, and symptoms take only thirty to ninety minutes to appear. Considering that the entire friend group has already been taking drugs regularly, Henry could offer Bunny a lethal dose, ingest a small one, and seek treatment.
There is also Coprinopsis atramentaria - the common ink cap, or tippler’s bane. This mushroom is poisonous, even lethally so, if combined with alcohol. I don’t need to spell the murder method out.
But, of course, Henry is high Intelligence low Wisdom and obsessed with ancient history; if Claudius allegedly died via death caps getting mixed with Caesar’s mushrooms, then it must clearly be the best way to poison someone.
on advanced calculus
“Let's say we know, for instance, that x amount of the drug in question is enough to affect a seventy pound animal and another, slightly larger amount is sufficient to kill it. I've figured out a rough formula, but still we are talking about a very fine distinction. So, knowing this much, how do I go about calculating the rest?”
Quick reminder that Henry killed one dog and poisoned another.
I’m not going to do calculations on A.muscaria or any other method of murder - A.phalloides is what the characters were poring over. I’m going to explain the calculations as simply as I can, and then provide some references for those of you who are interested in biology.
The characters don’t have the internet available, but they have the whole college library, a virtually unlimited amount of money, and a town where everyone takes illegal substances at their disposal. What they need is a pharmacology textbook (to look up the necessary equations), a reference on poisonous mushrooms (to look up death caps), and perhaps a handbook on toxins.
LD50 is what Henry is after - that is, “the dose required to kill half the members of a tested population after a specified test duration.” (I hope that the readers can already see that two dogs are not a large enough sample size.) LD50 is conveniently measured in mg/kg. We have the characters’ exact weights: Bunny is 86 kg, Henry is 97.5 kg.
Amatoxins are a group of toxins contained in A.phalloides, and the one that causes symptoms of death cap poisoning. LD50 of amatoxins in humans is estimated to be 0.1 mg/kg. Thus, Bunny would need to ingest 0.1*86 = 8.6 mg amatoxins, perhaps less, preferrably more, to be stone dead. Here I make an assumption that 0.05 mg/kg is not lethal; with Henry’s poor health, it might be. Henry would need to ingest under 0.05*97.5 = 4.87 mg to not be dead.
Oral LD50 for amatoxins in dogs is 0.5 mg/kg. Finding out the amatoxin content should be an easy calculation: X grams divided by 31 kg contains 0.5 mg. We know that X grams minus one gram failed to kill the other dog, so we can assume this is not low-balling the dose.
For the sake of ease, let’s say X = 31 -> 0.5 mg amatoxins in one gram of locally harvested, organic death cap. This looks close to reality. Per Yilmaz et al (2015) a death cap ingested by a patient contained 0.426 mg amatoxins per gram, and you can calculate that yourself.
And now a simple proportion:
0.5 mg (per gram) / N mg (lethal dose) = 1 gram / X grams (of mushroom)
Bunny: 8.6/0.5 = 17.2 grams (ingest more than that)
Henry: 4.87/0.5 = 9.74 grams (ingest less than that)
partway disclaimer
Of course, I wouldn’t stake my life, or anyone’s, on those calculations.
The toxin content of the A.phalloides can vary drastically depending on geographical location, season, maturity, etc. This could be remedied, I guess, by gathering a large amount of them, mixing them and chopping them into paste, then testing some of the mixture to determine LD50 and the amatoxin content.
From the data at hand, the exact content of amatoxins cannot be precisely determined. But, hey, Henry only needs to poison more dogs to find out!
and now for some more science
A.phalloides contains two main groups of toxins: amatoxins and phallotoxins, and also phallolysin. Phallolysin is not toxic if taken orally, so that’s out. Phallotoxins were found to have little contribution to death cap toxicity, perhaps because they are not absorbed through the gut. (Though it’s not certain whether the characters would have this information in 1982.) This leaves us with amatoxins.
Yilmaz et al (2015) describe a patient who recovered after ingesting approximately 0.32 mg/kg amatoxins (but after developing liver failure). This is why I’m assuming 0.05 mg/kg is non-lethal.
LD50 for amatoxins in dogs has been calculated for α-amanitin and methyl-γ-amanitin.
Garcia et al (2015) gives the amount of a-amanitin in different tissues of A.phalloides as follows (mg/gram dry weight): 0.67 to 0.78 in caps, 0.30 to 0.32 in stipes and 0.07 to 0.10 in volvas.
why richard is an idiot sandwich
Look, perhaps I’m misunderstanding what Donna Tartt has written, but Richard comes across as right for the wrong reasons. He’s right in that trying to non-lethally poison yourself with something so deadly as A.phalloides is a monumentally stupid affair. He’s wrong about everything else.
Faced with a simple calculation like the above, how does Richard go about it?
Equations about chemical concentration were never my strong point in chemistry, and they are difficult enough when you are trying to figure a fixed concentration in a suspension of distilled water; but this, dealing as it did with varying concentrations in irregularly shaped objects, was virtually impossible. He had probably used all the elementary algebra he knew in figuring this, and as far as I could follow him he hadn't done a bad job; but this wasn't a problem that could be worked with algebra, if it could be worked at all. Someone with three or four years of college calculus might have been able to come up with something that at least looked more convincing; by tinkering, I was able to narrow his ratio slightly but I had forgotten most of the little calculus I knew and the answer I wound up with, though probably closer than his own, was far from correct.
I didn’t know proportions required three or four years of college calculus. If the mushrooms are irregularly shaped, why not weigh them?
“It's a good try, but just by looking at it I can tell that it's insolvable without chemical tables and a good working knowledge of calculus and chemistry proper. There's no way to figure it otherwise. I mean, chemical concentrations aren't even measured in terms of grams and milligrams but in something called moles.”
There are different kinds of chemical concentration, and molar concentration is just one of them. “Something called moles”? A mole is, simply, an amount of substance that contains 6.02214076×1023 molecules (Avogadro number). This is sixth-grade chemistry. It’s also completely irrelevant here.
It’s a miracle Richard ever got into pre-med.
Henry, paraphrased: Oh, well, if I overdose - which I can totally figure out despite the fact that the symptoms take twelve hours to show when the damage is already done - I can just have some atropine. Atropine will totally counteract amatoxins.
...Never mind, Henry is also an idiot - though, at least, that is highlighted in-story. What does he plan on doing, drinking a whole bunch of atropine without knowing the precise dose he ingested?
“They are exactly opposite in effect. Atropine speeds the nervous system, rapid heartbeat and so forth. Amatoxins slow it down.”
No, they are not. To put it in plain English, amatoxins cause cell death - nothing about nervous system. Atropine basically counters the parasympathetic system, kicks your organism into fight or flight mode.
Do you know what atropine is an antidote to? Muscarine. It’s a compound found in certain mushrooms - such as A.muscaria, though only in trace amounts. Atropine and muscarine both bind to muscarinic acetylcholine receptors. Muscarine is not found in A.phalloides. Confusing amatoxins with muscarine is... I imagine it’s excusable if ancient Persian texts are your most recent source.
Oh, and one more thing while I’m at it.
“The Persians? I didn't know you read Arabic.”
In Persia (modern Iran), they speak Farsi, not Arabic. Oh, Richard. I imagine Henry took pity on him and didn’t correct the poor fool.
conclusion
There are two ways to engage with canon - from an in-story perspective (Watsonian) or an outside perspective (Doylist). I’ll leave you to discover what the third (Forsythian) perspective is.
From an in-story perspective, I am drawing the conclusion that both Richard and Henry are utterly inept at math, biology, medicine, and common sense; heaven only knows what “algebraic equations” they spent a good half hour going over.
From an outside perspective... well, if Tartt wrote all those errors purposefully, then it’s a nice bonus for any reader who knows basic medicine. If she didn’t, then I can fault her for not doing enough research. A middle ground is more likely: I’m certain that the 103F episode was intentional, but the Arabic in Persia wasn’t, since Henry of all people would lambast Richard for this error mercilessly.
half-assed references
Garcia, J et al. Determination of amatoxins and phallotoxins in Amanita phalloides mushrooms from northeastern Portugal by HPLC-DAD-MS. Mycologia, 107(4): 679-687. 2015.
Hooser, S.; Khan, S. Common Toxicologic Issues in Small Animals: An Update, An Issue of Veterinary Clinics of North America: Small Animal Practice: Ebook. Elsevier Health Sciences. 2018.
Tu, A.; ed. Handbook of Natural Toxins: Food Poisoning (1st edition). CRC Press.1992.
Wieland, T. Peptides of poisonous Amanita mushrooms. Springer-Verlag.1986.
Yilmaz, I et al. A Case Study: What Doses of Amanita phalloides and Amatoxins Are Lethal to Humans? Wilderness Environ Med. 26(4): 491–496. 2015.
#dark academia#the secret history#henry winter#richard papen#donna tartt#poisonous mushrooms#amanita phalloides#biology#studyblr#book analysis
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I Just Wanted to Say Hello
Seto checked his watch. He always took note of the time whenever he was dimension sliding. Time was finicky across dimensions of course. But it was still helpful to keep track a little bit at least. He hadn’t been here too long, be he could already tell he was fatigued from the last Slide. It had been a greater leap then he had done in a while. Both the dimension system and himself needed to recharge.
So he stepped into a cafe to kill some time. Get a coffee, maybe even something to eat to recharge before he attempted another Slide, even if he really didn’t feel like it. Pulling up the dimension map he’d been marking all his travels with he idly set a new entry while he waited for his food close by the door. A brief glance around the city and it was easy to tell that this world was placed in the past by quite a few years. If a version of himself existed in this world, he would at least be very young.
What would you like to name this dimension, sir? Lalna, his A.I. spoke softly through the duel gazer.
The bell to the shop interrupted his discreet fidgeting with the markings with settings and details on the map.
“Excuse me,” a lady’s voice huffed.
Seto’s head snapped up, the holograms disappearing. An all too familiar seemingly immortally young face and short black hair greeted him. The face of someone he admired like no one else, one he only now saw in his hallucinations and nightmares.
Mom.
“Deactivate,” he rasped in a low voice. The light of the duel gazer died, and Lalna’s voice faded away.
“Hey, I don’t have all day. Lunch breaks aren’t forever– but you’re one of those actor-types or stage performers, aren’t you?” she said, noting his eccentric state of dress. “I doubt you have that problem.”
She didn’t recognize him. That narrowed down the possibilities slightly…
“O-Of course. I apologize.”
His hands were twitching as he hastily stepped out of the way. All these years and her stern voice still made him feel like he was caught stealing sweets from the kitchen cabinet.
This was unreal. She was right there. Right there. He could reach out and touch her. Hug her. And she didn’t even know who he was.
Either this was a dimension he didn’t exist in, or he had simply not been born yet or was too young to bear any resemblance to him now.
He re-approached her after both their orders had been filled. “About earlier, sorry for the holdup."
She stared up at him from her seat like his face had just turned blue.
"Don't...mention it? At least you didn't get an attitude like most you fancy kid types do."
Ah. Right. He was definitely in the demographic his mother used to get annoyed with all the time back then. Young guys that used to push everyone else around as they saw fit.
Shit. He needed to find a way to stay. To talk to her. Any normal person would have walked away long before this. He had to make something up, and quickly.
"I-- you look familiar. I think I may know your husband,” he noted the ring on her finger. “Not exactly well, per se. I'm a scientist as well, just uh, computer engineering."
She raised an eyebrow at him. Scrutinizing his story most likely. Of all the times, this was one where he actually wished his mom wasn't so damn smart! Although, Seto supposed it did make sense. She probably just saw him as some weird guy who had too much money to invest in what should definitely not be tech of this time. He powers both the duel gazer and disk down and slips them into his coat pocket, taking the seat across from her.
"Ah, some prototypes they've been having me test."
"Huh. Some kind of fancy new mobile phone?"
Right. Bluetooth wasn't even near to being around yet. Seto latched onto that idea and mentally apologized to the real inventor, whoever they were.
“Yes. We hope to create a completely hands-free phone one day.”
Looking like her interest was slightly piqued, his mother took a bite of her sandwich.
“Well, likely won’t see that in my lifetime, but boy would that be nice.”
After a pause, Seto realized she was fishing for a name. “Isono.” It was the first thing that popped into his head. “Nice to meet you.”
“Shigaraki. Chihiro Sigaraki. So what’s a group developing a new fancy mobile phone doing with biologists?”
Mentally he kicked himself. He should have come up with something better than that!
“Ah, well that’s not the only thing we do of course. It’s a fairly new branch honestly, we make lab equipment and such, that’s how I met your husband. It was a brief conversation, but he nearly talked my ear off about his work.”
At the mention of her spouse, the air around his mom changed significantly.
“Oh, that’s him alright. Heh, let me guess did he go on and on about salamander poisons and regeneration?”
A bittersweet smile tugged at his lips.
“Hm. Indeed he did. The one that makes you go blind for about three minutes if it squirts you in the eye?”
“Hahaha, and those idiots time how long effect lasts instead of-- I don’t know, seeking medical help. I know it’s just a little amphibian, but come on. There’s plenty of tiny frogs that can kill you too.”
Seto laughs, the purest one he’s had in a long, long time.
“Exactly! But he’s happy I suppose, so as long as he’s careful I guess.”
“Well, it looks like you absorbed some of what he said. I’ll have to let him know, I’m sure he’d get a kick out of his ramblings actually being memorable to someone. I’m surprised he didn’t mention you. You aren’t exactly ordinary-looking. You always wear that outrageous coat?”
Seto deflated real quick at that, he almost would have fidgeted in his seat if he hadn’t been taught better.
“Ah. Erm. Not always. Just for experiments. Lots of pockets. And uh... my brother designed it.”
Your son.
That made Chihiro pause. Seto guessed she could tell by the way he said it that meant something to him.
“Oh, I see. Well, tell your brother he’s got quite the... imaginative mind,” she said with a small laugh.
A small burst of pride for Mokuba flared in him.
“Thank you. That will mean a lot to him. Truly.”
More than she could ever know.
“So, compter engineering. That’s quite an up and coming field, I’ve heard. How did someone so young as yourself get involved in it?”
Seto really ought to have thought out his cover story better. He made a mental note to properly write one out for any future Dimension travels.
“Er. My true passion is game design. Though my... mentor kind of directed me through engineering and such first and it branched out from there, but it wasn’t exactly, what he had intended.”
Not by a long shot.
“Oh, like those video games? I can’t say I know much about them-- but I do quite like chess and some gambling card games.”
I know, you taught me chess, was what he wanted to say.
“Those too, actually. I do hope to create some fun video games, especially action ones, but I really have an affinity for those trading card games as well, so I plan to do something with those someday as well. Something to bring them to life, you know?”
Perhaps it was because she saw him as another young kid compared to her, wide-eyed with curiosity and awe for the future, but she laughed, though Seto could tell there was no ill-will intended.
“I’m at a loss of how all that stuff works, a bit past my time I’m afraid to say, despite my face looking like a highschooler,” she said with poorly masked irritation.
She tucked her bangs to the side as she finished the last of her meal.
“But all of that sounds very interesting. If it ends up happening I look forward to it. I think you may have something there, Isono.”
Of course he did. And it worked. It earned him billions and brought the company out of the red after the majority of their shareholders bailed when he took over. Placing them back farther up the corporate ladder then they had ever been, soon after everyone was scrambling for a piece.
Yet her simple praise, her belief--
He certainly wished he could have heard those words when he was still in an uphill battle trying to get the company off the ground. The simple words filled his essence with something long lost, now so foreign, something that he wanted to hold onto forever.
He’d been silent for far too long.
“T-Thank you very much, honestly. I... haven’t had anyone say that actually.”
Which was true. No one had supported it like that when Solid Vision was in development.
Only Mokuba.
“Of course, I--”
Her words were interrupted by the beeping of her watch. An alarm. Chihiro muttered a swear under her breath, and Seto could very accurately say that was the only time he’d ever heard her utter such a thing.
“Sorry--I’ve lost track of time, I need to get back to work, can’t give my stuck up boss another mark against me.”
She stood and grabbed her bookbag and headed for the door. Seto nearly knocked over his own chair to follow her out.
The bell rang again as the door closed behind him.
“One of those huh? Keep your head up, things will change. Slowly, but I promise you, they will.”
It was a stupid and weird thing for him to say, Seto knew. But given how much his mother always raged about it, he felt like he needed to say it, even if she didn’t believe him.
She gave him an odd look.
“Wishful thinking you got there, but I certainly hope so. I’ll fight the good fight regardless.”
There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things Seto simply couldn’t. If he explained it all she would understand she would--
Stop.
“Maybe we’ll see each other around sometime? I can have Tatsuya invite you over next time he sees you.”
A silent breath left him as he tried to pin down words, but eventually, his expression fell back into neutrality.
“He- uh, probably won’t. I er, don’t really get assigned there normally. I was filling in for someone who was sick.”
A questioning frown appeared on her face, but Seto could tell she was more preoccupied with worrying about making it back in time.
“But... but maybe we’ll meet again.” Seto extends a hand.
His mother takes it, and he holds on longer then he should. Bringing up his other hand to hold hers, he’s surprised when she doesn’t whack him upside the head for that.
Perhaps it’s something in his eyes.
“It’s been an honor meeting you.”
Truly meeting you.
He regrets pushing so many memories to the back of his head to collect dust and slowly wither away. Yet in that exact moment, he is also reminded of why he did that. They’re on borrowed time.
Bewilderment crosses his mother’s face, and he can see the gears turning-- perhaps somehow she did know the person in front of her? But that was impossible.
“Thanks? Heheh.”
There’s an awkward laugh. She doesn't think him a creep, but she knows something isn’t right, but she can’t put her finger on it.
“In that case, Tatsuya and I will keep a lookout for you in Domino. It’s been very nice to meet you too.”
She pulls away and disappears down the stairs of the closest subway entrance.
Seto should forget about this dimension. Forget he was ever here. Bury it all again. The past is dead.
But it isn’t the past here. This was his parents’ present. And perhaps there was still time before this world’s Seto existed if there would be one. And if there wasn’t... there couldn't be any true harm, could there?
He needed to stop thinking like that. Forget about this place. Forget again. Forget. Forget. Forget.
He powers up the dimension system again.
Lalna continues where it left off.
What would you like to name this dimension sir?
“Greed.”
#(do not reblog)#(aaaaaaa this turned into a mOnster of a fic jfc i should just post it as a fic on ao3)#(likes and comments are encouraged though!)#(tbh after all this i'd cry of joy if you heart it)#(feel free to scream about this to me in my inbox im/etc)#(i'd love it)#KC files [Lore]#lore#legacy [drabbles]#drabbles#(posting at o'ass o'clock)#v; divided
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