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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

if i forgot you please lmk!

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #spiderman #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic

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t0wnspersonb · 4 years

Text

Kiss it Better (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Anonymous said:

Hello I just read your fics about Kuroo, Akaashi and Bokuto and I really liked them 💞 So I was wondering if you could write a fluff fic where tsukki gets embarassed trying to make the first move you can also just add things to your liking If you don‘t want to that‘s totally okay I‘ll be waiting for your upcoming fics thank youuuu 🧡

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Omg that’s so funny because my next story was literally going to be just that! I had a lot of fun writing this one and might do a part two with some *cough* smut *cough* just like Kuroo, everyone is lowkey a Tsukishima girl. I hope you like this anon!

~~~~

Word Count: 2,293

Summary: Tsukishima has always liked you, but you’ve never noticed his advances. A trip to the nurses office might change your mind.

~~~~~~~~

You liked to think that you were friends with the tall blonde sitting behind you in class.

But sometimes…

Thunk.

Sometimes…

Thunk.

Sometimes you really wanted to fucking strangle him.

Thunk.

“Can you stop kicking my chair!?” you hissed, staring at the smirking middle blocker.

“My foot slipped.” he replied coyly, causing your scowl to deepen.

Before you could retort back to him the bell rang, signaling the end of class. You started packing up your stuff, grumbling to yourself about how rude Tsukishima was.

“Don’t you want to walk to the clubs together?” He called out to your leaving form.

You huffed turning around to see him and Yamaguchi looking at you.

There were times when Tsukishima didn’t annoy you, and those were the times you would walk with them to your after school club activities.

You were part of the photography club, which was on the way to the gymnasium that held their volleyball practice.

But again, you only walked with them when Tsukishima wasn’t being an annoying little prick.

Today definitely wasn’t one of those days. He had been bugging you all day. It went from his annoying comments to him poking at you harshly, and then to kicking your chair.

You weren’t sure if it was because he was bored and had nothing better to do, or if it was because he actually didn’t think of you as a friend. Or because he was just simply an asshole.

Maybe it was a combination of all three, you didn’t know.

“No way.” you sniffed, sticking out your tongue to him. “I don’t want to walk with you anywhere today. If it was just Yama-kun then I would. But not if you’re there. Stupid.”

Tsukishima visibly looked annoyed at your statement.

“Y/n-chan.” Yamaguchi called out, raising his hands up as he looked at both annoyed expressions. “You guys should try and get along yeah?”

“Be quiet Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima sighed, moving to walk past you. “If she wants to be childish then just let her. I’m surprised she even got into this class.”

“I’m surprised Yama-kun is even your friend.” you fired back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I bet you aren’t even good at volleyball.”

Tsukishima paused, and then before you could even register what had happened, he was leaning down, incredibly close to your face and to your body. You could physically feel his body heat radiating into your own. His hand resting on the doorframe, preventing you from leaving the room.

“Why don’t you come by and find out?” he said slowly, ignoring the panicked squeak that escaped Yamaguchi’s lips. His gold eyes were piercing into your own, but you couldn’t see any anger in them at what you had said, you couldn’t see an ounce of annoyance either. But there was something else there, something you couldn’t place.

Ignoring your hammering heart and the heat creeping up into your face, you shoved his arm away scowling. “Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll take pictures of you sucking and have an article published in the school newspaper about you being a terrible person and sucking at volleyball!” you huffed stalking away from the tall first year angrily.

You ignored the calls of Yamaguchi and just focused on heading towards your club.

Today was definitely one of those days where you wanted nothing to do with Tsukishima.

The relationship you had with the middle blocker was incredibly strange. One minute you guys were perfectly fine with each other, and next - well it was exactly what had just happened.

Tsukishima scoffed as he watched your retreating figure. But he couldn’t deny the fact that your reactions were incredibly lame, but incredibly cute.

“You shouldn’t tease her like that Tsukki.” Yamaguchi sighed. “She’s never going to like you back if you keep making her mad like that.”

Tsukishima didn’t say anything as they continued their way to the gym.

Everyone knew that he liked you. It was incredibly obvious, and Tsukishima always made sure to make it incredibly obvious.

But it wasn't obvious to you.

The one person that it mattered to the most.

You were frustrating and amusing, stubborn and incredibly smart, quick-witted and incredibly beautiful.

The entire package.

And Tsukishima wanted you to be his.

But you were too fucking dense to realize that.

And quite frankly, he was getting sick of it. For as smart as you were, you were incredibly thick when it came to stuff like that it appeared.

It frustrated him to no end.

Usually what he depicted as playful flirting you thought as him just being downright mean.

It was a constant cycle, neverending.

It was ridiculous.

Actually scratch that.

This was ridiculous.

It had been a couple of days since that last encounter, Tsukishima deciding his chances at winning you over would probably be better if he stopped his teasing for a little bit.

But right now you were nodding your head rapidly in understanding as Hinata talked to you. You were there during one of their practices, to take photos of them. A project that you had to do for your photography club. Takeda-sensei had given you permission to be there to snap pictures of the team.

“- And then I go boom!” Hinata exclaimed bouncing around.

You smiled at his antics. “That sounds incredible Hinata! Do you think I can take a picture of you doing your crazy jump?” you asked, holding up the camera for emphasis.

But before he could utter an answer, Tsukishima interrupted. “We have to start practice, you can just take pictures then.” he said to you, glancing at you briefly.

You rolled your eyes at his aloofness and apologized to Hinata who was protesting loudly at what Tsukishima had said. “He’s right Hinata, I don’t want to impede on your guys’ practice so just pretend like I’m not here and I’ll take as many pictures as possible.”

Reluctantly he agreed and everyone continued the practices Ukai had asked them to do before splitting up into different teams. They were doing a match.

You were honestly in awe as you watched them play. You didn’t think that volleyball could be so… amazing. You had teased both Yamaguchi and Tsukishima about how boring the sport was.

You were so wrong.

You had almost forgotten to take pictures, you were so captivated.

But what had surprised you the most, was Tsukishima. You had never seen him so… concentrated? So serious? So… so attractive?

You felt your face flush, shaking your head to rid yourself of the thought. That was ridiculous. You had never been attracted to the middle blocker, you found him annoying, a completely arrogant, unnecessarily tall asshole, and… and he was incredibly good looking.

What was wrong with you? How could you even think of something like that? How could you - “Watch out!” your eyes went wide as a volleyball came hurtling at you with rapid speed.

Your eyes squeezed shut, readying yourself for the impact.

Only it never came. You heard a loud grunt and opened your eyes to see Tsukishima clenching at his fingers, the ball rolling away from his feet.

He… he protected you from the ball.

Tsukishima’s pointer finger throbbed in pain, he knew it wasn’t broken, but the nail had torn just a bit, blood seeping out of his wound.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to move, he knew that Nishinoya was closer to you, he knew that he was heading towards the ball to stop it from hitting you. But his body just moved after he called out his warning.

“Oi Tsukishima are you okay?” Tanaka asked running up to him, several of his teammates surrounding him.

He removed his hand to reveal his bloody nail, causing you to gasp lightly.

“I need to stop the bleeding. I’ll go to the nurse.” Tsukishima said quietly.

“Let me help you.” You blurted out immediately, causing all eyes to be on you now. “It’s my fault you got injured.”

The tall blonde nodded, and both of you left the gym quietly.

“He’s got it bad huh?” Tanaka smirked, staring after you guys.

“I hope he can confess properly.” Yamaguchi sighed.

***

The walk to the infirmary was incredibly quiet, awkward almost. But it was just your luck that the nurse was nowhere to be found.

“You can go. I can take care of it from here.” Tsukishima said quietly.

You shook your head. “No. You got hurt because of me. At least let me help.” You started to take out the necessary equipment to help disinfect and wrap his finger. “Go ahead and sit down.” you said gesturing to the bed.

Tsukishima didn’t bother arguing, silently sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely.

Even sitting down, he was still incredibly tall. The top of his head just below your chin. You held your hand out his expectantly, he sighed quietly before placing his much larger hand in yours.

Carefully you cleaned up the blood and began wiping down the wound with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. The smell stingy your nose, but the atmosphere around the both of you was quiet, calm almost.

His hand dwarfed your own, his fingers long and elegant, and surprisingly soft against your own touch.

Tsukishima couldn’t deny the fact that he was enjoying this immensely. You stood incredibly close to him, slightly between his parted legs as you worked. He could smell the soft perfume on your skin and the laundry detergent you used on your clothes.

It was a wonderful smell.

Maybe… maybe now would be a good time to tell you… right?

“I’m sorry Tsukishima.” you said quietly, wrapping his finger. “If I wasn’t there you wouldn’t be in this position.”

“It’s fine. It’s nothing serious.” he said, equally quiet.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, tilting your head to the side slightly as you stared into his gold eyes.

Tsukishima could feel the blush rising in his face, you were just too cute. The way you looked concerned about him. He liked that. He liked that a lot.

“It might hurt less if you kiss it better.” he said. He couldn’t resist, this situation was incredibly ideal to him.

You looked incredibly confused for a moment before taking his hand and gently pressing your lips against the tip of his injured finger.

Tsukishima felt like his heart was about to leap out of his chest, his face burning at the sweet gesture. And even though his finger was wrapped up, he just knew that your lips were incredibly soft. His other hand came up to press against his face, the backside of his hand covering the lower part of his face in embarrassment.

“What’s wrong?” you asked frowning, you had just done what he had said. Your heart was racing for some reason though, you weren’t sure why.

Tsukishima couldn’t take this anymore. He grabbed your wrist and tugged, pulling you into his chest, and then flipping you over onto the bed, his upper body hovering over yours.

Your face was completely red, you thought your heart was about to pop, he was way too close and his face held nothing but seriousness.

What did you do?

“Tsukishima-” “Quiet.” he demanded.

You snapped your jaw shut.

You watched him take a deep breath in before speaking. “You are the most infuriating person I know. You’re stupid and you don’t pay attention to what’s going on right in front of your face.”

Your nostrils flared slightly in anger. “Well right back at you asshole!” you grumbled back.

He rolled his eyes and moved his face closer to your own, causing you to quiet down once more.

“But despite how incredibly dense you are, you’re smart, you’re witty, you’re stubborn, you’re hardworking, you’re pretty -”

You have never been more confused in your entire life. Did he just insult you and then compliment you? Did he just call you pretty?

“ - and I literally can’t take this anymore.” he pushed up his glasses just a bit. “I’ve given you so many hints, made it so ridiculously obvious, and you still don’t understand you dimwit.”

You frowned further at his insults.

“I like you.” He said, “I’ve liked you for a while now. You just have never noticed. I want you to go out with me.”

He couldn’t handle the shy expression on your face after his confession. The soft look on your face, and the dark red blush coating your cheeks. His eyes flickered towards your lips, and he started to lean closer. Your soft hands came up and gently rested against his chest, but you never pushed him away. Your eyes fluttered shut as you prepared yourself for what was about to come next.

You could feel his breath hitting your face gently, causing your lips to part as you readied yourself -

“Tsukishima! Everyone wanted me to go check on you and -” the door opened suddenly, and Hinata stood staring at the scene before him.

Tsukishima whipped his head around with a hard glare at the orange haired male who had gone pale, and then had turned dramatically red at the sight before him.

You couldn’t help but cover your face in embarrassment at the position you and Tsukishima were in.

“I-I’m so sorry for interrupting!” Hinata screamed and slammed the door.

Tsukishima sighed, deflating slightly before removing himself from on top of you. He ignored the blush in his face as he stood up, looking back at you still laying on the bed.

So incredibly tempting.

“Wait for me after practice. We can walk home together.” He said simply before leaving the infirmary.

Did you… did you just get yourself a boyfriend?

You hoped so.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #tsukki #one shot #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima kei x reader #reader insert #request #requests are welcome #haikyuu tsukishima

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knights-escort · 3 years

Text

“Life is short, so why not have some fun!"

Biological Information

Name : Eloise Merveille

Va: Yoshino Nanjo

Gender : Female

Age : 16

Date of birth : November 28

Height : 165 cm

Family : Parents, Grandmother

Species : Human

Hair color : Blonde and pastel pink

Eye color : Forest green

Homeland : Rose Kingdom

Professional Information

Dorm : Heartslabyul

Year : 2nd

Class : 2C seat 18

Club : Science Club

Fun Facts

Dominate hand : Right

Favorite Food : Blueberry crepe

Least Favorite food : Licorice

Hobby : Pranking other students

Dislikes : Buzzkills, jerks, people who underestimate her

Talents : Art, attention to detail

Unique Magic : Through the Looking Glass

“If you get lost, take my hand. I’ll take you to our special Wonderland! Through the Looking Glass!”

Eloise can create a portal in the form of a mirror that can absorb magic and fire it somewhere else, or used as a regular portal. If you go in and not go out, you will be stuck inside the mirror realm until you become nothing but a reflection. The portal will only last 10 seconds so make sure you have a clear image of your destination before going in.

Personality

Eloise is extremely playful. One of the things on her to-do list is to prank at least 1 person per week. But, she knows when to be serious, especially when Riddle is around. She is extremely innocent, so bad words are not in her vocabulary. Whenever someone says them, Eloise always goes up to Trey or Riddle and asks them what that means. Most of the time on the next day, the person that said it is collared. Eloise gets lost easily, even when she’s been there for years, which is why she always has a map of the campus wherever she goes. Most of her habits are picked up from her friends. Just to name a few, studying comes from Riddle, reading is from Wyllow, and pranking is from Wyllow’s older brother, Oliver. Eloise can get really pissed off when guys say she can’t do stuff they do because she’s a girl. Steer clear if that happens to her, which isn’t often.

Trivia

She knows every nook and cranny in Night Raven College thanks to her magic map that’s been passed down in her family

Practically lives with the Clovers due to her parents work

Eloise has no sense of direction whatsoever and gets lost easily

She has a room all to herself because she felt uncomfortable living with the other 2nd year guys

Is extremely aggressive when pissed off

Since Eloise used to write for the RSA newspaper, she has a habit of picking up gossip around the school

Lies really well when it comes to her pranks

Eloise once put an egg in the microwave and the microwave exploded...

Goes deep when it comes to arguments and makes sure her side is heard

Gets flustered easily whenever she’s in a 10 inch radius of her crush, Cater

Sneaks random encouraging notes to other people

Younger than literally everyone in the school

Better than most of the school at Magift, but never gets the chance to play on a team

Follows literally everyone in the school on Magicam

Knows all of the Queen of Hearts Rules, but pretends she only knows around a hundred

Easily influenced by others

Has a book of daily prank targets and times to prank them

Eloise is Alice Liddel’s descendant from probably a couple centuries ago (no one knows this except Riddle and Trey)

Relationship voice lines (as of now)

Riddle Rosehearts

[Eloise]: “Riddle is really strict. I mean, how does he expect us to follow 810 rules? Of course, I memorized all of them, but there is no way I’m following all of them, especially the stupid ones! We argue in the dorm a lot about the rules, but I find it fun. He’s a good guy under that act though.”

[Riddle]: “She’s too energetic for her own good and almost never follows the rules. I tried to seal her magic many times, but she always finds a way to escape. Instead of using that method, I make her write 10,000-word apologies when needed. Although, her grades are better than I expected, so I’ll let some of those violations slide. We do occasionally study together, as we are in the same grade, but Eloise lacks focus. It’s a miracle that she can pass her classes, more or less skip a year!”

Trey Clover

[Eloise]: “I find Trey nii-san like an older brother I never had. He’s always so patient with me and always makes time for others, no matter how busy his schedule is. Trey knows how to calm me down when I’m about to pull a Riddle. Ever since we were kids, the two of us have always had a great relationship.”

[Trey]: “Eloise is like another sister to me, but she can be quite the troublemaker. When Riddle and Eloise argue in the dorms, all I can do is stand by and make sure that the matter doesn’t escalate to a physical fight. The both of us know all too well what Eloise will do when she’s angry… besides ranting in another language.”

Cater Diamond

[Eloise]: “ Cater-senpai is… um… hehe… a VERY good friend of mine and we spend a lot of time together. We like to take pictures around the dorm, much to Riddle’s annoyance. Even though we’re close and all, I can’t get over this light feeling when I’m around him. I’ve never experienced it before, but I feel like I think of him as more than just a friend.”

[Cater]: “Eli-chan is super cute and fun! I love taking pictures with her all the time. She can be a bit dense at times, like when I tried the wifi challenge on her last year. Eli came up to me and asked for the wifi password, so I couldn’t resist! In the end, she didn’t get it. #EpicFail. For some reason, Eli-chan’s always a bit red when I hug her, but I love seeing her smile when she’s happy.”

Deuce Spade

[Eloise]: “Deuce is too uptight, but he’s cool. Hehe, I’ve heard that he used to be a delinquent. That’ll be useful info for my notebo-I mean whaaat I didn’t say anything. I swear he shares a brain cell with Ace.”

[Deuce]: “Eloise-senpai is… quite eccentric. She can be loud and obnoxious at times, but she knows when to be serious, especially when it comes to schoolwork. I admire that she can balance her time, even if some of that is used for childish purposes.”

Ace Trappola

[Eloise]: “Ace is my partner in crime. We always pull pranks on Riddle and get chased by him afterwards. He’s probably the only first year I can relate to the most, which is another reason to add him to my prank list! Hehe, after getting to know Ace, I have the perfect plan for him.”

[Ace]: “Eloise is the best upperclassman ever! She’s loose with the rules and is great at a lot of subjects. The only thing is that Eloise can be really scary when she’s mad. I remember hearing that she got into a duel with some students because they were making fun of her wanting to join the Magift team. She beat all of them up in 10 seconds! I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side at all if that story is true.”

Template belongs to @unfinished-projects-galore

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twisted alice #twst #disney twst #twst oc #eloise merveille #updated profile #ace trappola #deuce spade #cater diamond #trey clover #riddle rosehearts

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marinetteplztakeabreak · 4 years

Text

Alya

is extremely comfortable on camera, even while livestreaming

is obsessed with superheroes and dramatic stories

has given an enormous amout of thought to Ladybug’s motivation/ mindset

memorizes and dramatically recites lines from comic books/ stories she likes

is very good at improv/ talking eloquently with no script while under stress

literally stress has the opposite effect on her than most people; she’ll be thrown in a deadly situation and immediately go into acting mode

thrives in the spotlight

is clearly a theater kid

we don’t know what kind of hobbies she had at her old school, except i do know, in my heart, that she was obsessed with theater

she probably also did school newspaper and whatnot, but theater was definitely one of her hobbies

you can’t even prove that she’s not STILL a theater kid, we don’t know what she does every hour of the day

but it would also make sense if the ladyblog got super popular and started taking up most of her time so she switched over to spending most of her time as a blogger

also she loves being dramatic and therefore would’ve loved starring in musicals

she’s so committed to everything she does, you know she would’ve taken dozens of hours of singing lessons to be the best actor she could

the evidence checks out

Nino

is constantly listening to music

has a good enough understanding of music to be a good dj even though he’s like 15

probably plays several percussion instruments, i know there’s no direct evidence but he’s got the vibes, I’m a percussionist, you gotta trust me

actually, if you do want actual evidence, he’d need a good understanding of rhythm in order to be a dj; it’s super likely that he at least plays drums

also needs to have a good understanding of music theory in order to mix music with the right emotions and flow

is actually really reserved most of the time

he has no problems with being a hero or performing as a dj, but he is not actively seeking out the spotlight

has to be a good singer

trust me on this

he needs to be able to understand pitch and rhythm and test things out, he just, it checks out okay, you gotta trust me

Conclusion

Alya is a writer nerd/ theater kid and Nino is a music nerd/ choir kid

Alya has already written the script for a movie that Nino was trying to make, so clearly they are able to work together on projects

I want them to write and perform a song together

Alya is good with lyrics and Nino is good with rhythm and melody

Both are really good performers in different ways and I am positive that both can sing really well

Seriously I’m confident that these two are the top two singers out of every character in the entire show, and i have backed it up with evidence

The only downside is that it would be so good I might die immediately

but what a way to go

#dj wifi #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #miraculous ladybug #ml #long post

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wasabito · 4 years

Text

had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true.

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer.

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once.

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance.

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture.

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment.

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly.

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more.

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too.

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit.

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up.

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!"

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?"

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #tendou x reader #tendou satori #satori tendou #satori tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #sabi.writes

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mrslilyrogers · 4 years

Text

Fall into Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Awkward and cute reader ahead! Nothing but sweet and soft fluff :)

Summary: What’s an awkward scientist like you gotta do when you develop a crush on America’s national treasure, Captain America? Recruited by Bruce and Tony themselves to work at the Avengers Compound, you try your best to keep your cool. But how could you when Steve is always popping up to help you?

Author’s notes: It’s my birthday today!! Yay!! And to celebrate, I want to share this super fluffy piece I wrote for @hopingforbarnes 250 writing challenge. Thanks for letting me participate! I got the prompt, “This is why I fell in love with you” which will be in bold below. I absolutely loved writing this and being a fan of chick flicks, I went with that vibe. I hope you guys enjoy and please, let me know what you think! Reblogs are very much appreciated :D

There he was sipping his cup of coffee, one hand holding today’s newspaper as he read. You thought it was beyond adorable that he insisted on getting actual newspapers delivered to the compound when he could literally read it from a tablet. You even offered to install the apps for him but he declined, saying he was too old for it. And in that moment you just knew, with his winsome smile and his deep blue eyes, you were utterly done for. So there you were, surreptitiously stealing doe-eyed glances at him from your perch by the kitchen counter, your laptop propped up on the island. His eyebrows were knitted as he brought the newspaper down, jotting his answers for the crossword puzzle. When he beamed at himself, you knew he got it right. Cute, so damn cute.

“Ugh,” you groaned at your own patheticness. When his head shot up to look at you, you immediately cleared your throat and looked to your laptop, ignoring the heat creeping up your cheeks.

“Y/N, you okay there?” Steve asked, pencil in mid-air.

“Yep, just working on something!” You replied a little too cheerfully, your gaze not quite able to hold his. You were always this way with him, tongue-tied, flustered and all fidgety. It was embarrassing.

Come on, Y/N, pull yourself together! You have two PhDs under the age of 30. Unfortunately, that was also probably one of the reasons why you were so freakin’ awkward but you really didn’t have to dwell on that now. Shaking off that snide little comment from the back of your mind, you continued your pep talk. You’re a badass scientist, graduated at the top of your class, and working with the Tony Stark and the Bruce Banner, your freakin’ childhood heroes! He’s just a 100 year old man! You’ve got this.

You looked at him with a bright smile on your face, straightening your back to make yourself seem taller. More Confident. Mature. Womanly. Typing into your laptop, you pretended you were in the midst of a scientific research that would change the world. Except, it came up empty, the screen completely and irrevocably black. Oh, shit.

“Ugh, Y/N. I think your laptop is turned off,” Steve awkwardly told you, pointing at it with the pencil in his hand.

“Oh, yeah. Well, uhm, yeah it is… so, ugh, gotta go and charge this,” You flashed him a quick smile before you scrambled to your feet, your chair creaking as you pushed it back, grabbed your laptop and ran out of there as fast as you could. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Steve watched you, a perplexed look on his face. When you nearly stumbled out the door, he almost got up to help except you shot up faster than a speeding bullet. An adoring smile crept up his lips. Cute.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t always like that. It all started when the science geniuses offered an advanced intensive program at the university where you were finishing your second doctorate degree. It meant extra work and more late nights but you didn’t even think of that, you had jumped at the chance from the second you heard of it and the rest was history. You aced their classes with flying colors and by the time you graduated, they had already offered you a full-time position at the Avengers compound, to assist them with whatever scientific endeavor they needed. You would become their resident biochemist/engineering physicist, equipped with your very own office and given free reign to create, tinker or even upgrade their weapons and computer systems.

What you didn’t expect was how cozy living in the Avengers Compound would be. You thought they were a bunch of stuffy soldiers and spies with no time to deal with regular people like you. But as soon as you were introduced to the team, that all changed.

They had all been in the common area when you first arrived. The men along with Nat were huddled at the TV, concentrating on some sports game as they drank their beers while Wanda and Vision were laughing and cooking in the kitchen. It was all so surreal, your jaw had dropped to the floor. Who knew the Avengers could be so domestic?

“You’re starting to drool, kid,” Tony commented at your side, immediately stopping you from staring. You mumble out a sheepish apology, your cheeks starting to flush. He flashed a smile at you before turning his attention to the team, “Everyone, listen up,” he shouted at them, clapping his hands twice before continuing, “This is our newest scientist, Y/N! She’ll be working with me and Bruce mostly, helping us with weapons and equipment so be nice! Piss her off and you’re toast,” he teased, winking at you. You didn’t think you could get any redder than you were at that moment. You let out a nervous chuckle, giving a little wave to everyone,

“Hi! Don’t worry, I won’t do that. I don’t think I can even if I wanted to, look at all of you!” you joked and looking at their smirks and empty faces, you realized just how inappropriate that was.

“Not that I would want to of course! I mean, who would wanna kill the Avengers?” you continued to your own mortification, your mouth running on its own. You could feel prickly sweat down your back and you suddenly wished there was a hole that would just swallow you right that instant. Letting out a huge exhale, you tried again.

“Uhm, what I mean to say is that I’m very happy to be meeting all of you and I’m glad that I’m given a chance to work here and help in any way that I can.” you finished sincerely albeit sheepishly, shifting your weight between your feet and hoping you didn’t totally muck up their first impression of you.

Black Widow’s narrowed eyes eased up, arms still crossed at her chest, she gave you a little tilt to her chin as she smirked, “You’re adorable,”

You let out a huge sigh, beaming at everyone. Captain America nodded at you as if to say ‘well done’, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. Damn, if that man didn’t spell out dreamy.

Tony finished the introductions and once you’ve shaken everyone’s hand, he was already moving, directing you to your designated room to drop off your bags so you guys could finish off your tour early and get to work. You were just about to carry your duffle bags, ready to drag your suitcase across their pristine marble floor when Captain America appeared by your side, “Hey, you need some help with those?” he asked, looking at your luggages. You had almost completely blanked when he stood so close to you. You could hear Tony’s voice getting softer and softer as he walked ahead, talking as he went. You nodded, not able to find the voice to speak. When he draped both duffel bags over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing, and pulled the handle of your suitcase higher, you objected, “Let me at least get that,” you tried to grab your suitcase from him but he swiveled it out of your reach, already moving to follow Tony. “It’s fine. This is nothing,” he said, smiling down at you.

“Thanks Captain. I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep up with him,” you replied, shyly smiling back at him and pointing at the man walking in front of you. He chuckled before letting out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, you’ll get used to it. And just call me Steve,”

Tony suddenly turned around as if just realizing you weren’t following at his heels. “Would you look at that?” He teased when he saw both you and Steve lagging behind him. “Chivalry’s not dead,” shrugging, he continued on, prompting Steve to shake his head at his friend.

When you both arrived at your room, You tried not to gawk but Tony Stark was definitely not cheap. They let you take it all in, practically feeling your excitement off your skin. Steve dropped your bags off on the floor before turning to take his leave,

“Alright, I’m off. I’ll see you guys for dinner,” his voice cut you out of your wonder.

“Thank you, Steve,” you beamed at him before he left the door.

“You’re welcome, Y/N,” he replied, flashing you a genuine smile. You watched his retreating figure out the hallway, your heart hammering in your chest.

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You had been working for the Avengers for two months now and you must admit you had easily become friends with all of them, jokes and easy conversation flowing with everyone except for one. Steve freakin’ Rogers. Oh, you were friends with him, you talked but the easiness was only one-sided. Every time you had a conversation with him, you felt your heart leaping out of your chest. Every single smile from him sent butterflies to your stomach. It was becoming a problem, your school girl crush making you look less professional and on top of that, you just knew the spies figured it out. Why else would Nat and Clint suddenly make up excuses and leave you and Steve alone again for breakfast?

You tried to ignore the fluttering of your heart as Steve made his coffee. Acting as normal as possible, you reached for the flour on the highest shelf of the cupboard, your hand coming up short. Uh-oh. Maybe, if you could just go on your tiptoes, you could get it, right? Wrong. You had been dead wrong. You wiggled your fingers, hoping you didn’t look like an absolute idiot. Oh God, have I been reaching for this too long already; past the point of asking Steve for help? If you turned around now and asked him, wouldn’t it be too awkward? But if you suddenly changed what you were going to make just because you couldn't reach the flour, wouldn’t that be too petty? Oh god, why do you have to overthink everything when he’s around?

Steve suppressed his laugh as he leaned on the counter, watching you struggle. How long was it going to take for you to give up? You were so different from any woman he’s met since waking up in the future, always so happy and cheerful with no guise whatsoever. You were a breath of fresh air, real, and so unlike all the other spies and agents he’s worked with, with their cold manner and calculating eyes. It didn’t take long for him to trust you. He considered you his friend and now, you were just beyond adorable. A crooked smile formed on his lips as he waited some more, enjoying the show far too much, his eyes involuntarily moving down to check your ass out in your sleep shorts. When he realized what he was doing, he blushed, and immediately straightened up to help you.

A huff fell from your lips as you decided, enough was enough. You turned around, ready to call for him, when you came face to face with his solid chest. His familiar masculine scent warmed your senses as blood crept up your cheeks. “Got it,” he said, holding the jar between you, a playful smile splayed on his perfectly luscious lips.

You cleared your throat, your eyes on his lips as you tried to find your voice. “Thanks Steve,” you replied just a little too breathily.

“Anytime, Y/N,” he smiled softly down at you, bringing his hand up to ruffle your hair. And just like that the romantic atmosphere was ruined. It was just on your part. Again.

______________________________________________________________________

Months later

You were dancing carefree to the beat of the music blasting from your headphones as you cooked your dinner. It was late, you were sure everyone had gone to sleep so you were safe to boogie and shake your hips while you celebrated. You had finally figured out how to calibrate Black Widow’s newest weapon. It took you the whole night for the finishing touches, making you forget to eat but it was all worth it. You were on a high as you piled the pasta on to your plate, grabbing the still-too-hot garlic bread from the oven too early, making you wince as you put your thumb between your lips to lessen the burn. You didn’t hear the tired chuckle from the doorway when you shook your hips to turn around, refusing to let the scalding garlic bread shake your mood. You let out a tiny squeal when you saw Steve leaning against the doorway, decked in all his Captain America glory minus the mask.

“You’re back?” you shrieked, a hand flying to your chest as you tried to calm your racing heart, thanking god you didn’t drop your plate. “You scared the shit out of me,”

Steve had the audacity to look ashamed as he straightened. “Yeah, sorry about that, couldn’t help it. Please don’t stop on my account,” he teased, laughing, before a wince escaped his lips.

“You okay?” you immediately dropped your plate on the table and walked over to him, losing your nerve to even get embarrassed when he clutched his rib.

“It’s nothing, doll,” he replied, shaking his head, a faint flush casting over his cheeks as the endearment slipped.

You couldn’t help but be taken aback too. His voice had been soft and unconvincing unlike his usual steely, determined self. You laid your hand over the one still clutching his waist.

“What happened here? Are you hurt?” Concern seeped into your voice as you looked at him worriedly.

“It’s fine, really. It’ll heal fast,” he stepped away from you, making light of his injury. He didn’t know how to deal with anyone fussing over him.

“Let me see it,” you said, your voice firm for once in his presence, putting your hands on your hips.

“What?” he chuckled again, poorly hiding his hiss.

“Come on, Rogers, I’m a doctor. Let me see it,” you nodded to his injury, determination steeling your stance.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he said, “Yes ma’am,” and gave you a mock salute.

“But didn’t you say you weren’t this type of doctor?” he continued, teasing, as he unbuckled his utility belt.

“Don’t get sassy on me now, Rogers,” You rolled your eyes until he started to peel off his uniform, then you lost your breath. You felt your cheeks flush at the forced intimacy of the situation, your resolve withering as you shifted your weight between your feet, crossing your arms at your chest. Should you even watch him take his top off? You didn’t want to look like a creep so you focused on the wall behind him.

When you heard him wince, your eyes shot back to him as he struggled to lift it over his head. Your hands moved of its own volition, gently helping him. Once that was over and done with, you looked up at him, his chest panting.

“May I?” you asked, your slightly shaking hand gesturing to his undershirt. He nodded and you let your hands lift his shirt off gently, but what greeted you made your jaw drop open. The skin on his right rib was marred with a big dark patch of purple and blue, almost appearing black. Around it, littered lighter and smaller versions of it, a few cuts here and there. On his arms, his pecs, on the side of his jaw that you didn’t even notice awhile ago.

“Steve, what the hell! This isn’t nothing! Can you even breathe properly?” You asked worriedly, running your hands over the cuts and bruises.

“Yes, Y/N. I told you this is normal. This happened just a few hours ago, it’s already healing. I’ll be fine,” He once again explained to you stubbornly, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Sit down, you need to put ice on that and I need to clean your wounds,” You rushed off to get the things you needed before pulling up a chair beside him. He watched you as your hands worked practically over his injuries, pride swelling in his eyes. There was a strange fluttering in his chest that he didn’t dare acknowledge. He wouldn’t admit it to himself but he only objected more to your ministrations because it made you double your fussing.

“All done,” You cheered to yourself as you started tidying up.

“Congratulations to you,” he replied jokingly, moving to help you before you swatted his hand away. “Stop, just keep that ice on your rib,” you told him seriously, getting up to bring back the first-aid kit to the cupboard and throw all the used up cotton. He was the worst patient there ever was, complaining and whining all the way through.

“Yes, boss,” he deadpanned, loving the blush that tinted your cheeks.

“Hey, have you eaten dinner already? You hungry?” you asked him, washing your hands.

“Dinner? Y/N, it’s 2 am, how have you not eaten dinner yet?” This time it was his turn to be indignant.

“Well, I was working,” you replied matter-of-factly as if it was the most normal thing in the world to forget to eat.

“Jesus Christ, I ended up taking down a terrorist base camp and I still had time for dinner,” he huffed, furrowing his eyebrows.

You scooped up a plate for him anyway, making sure to double the serving. When you dropped it in front of him, you noticed he had put his shirt back on again much to your displeasure. What can you say? The guy was chiseled like a greek god. It didn’t hurt to look at him.

You both started to eat in peace, the awkwardness settling in. You had no idea why he wasn’t talking. He was usually cool as a cucumber while you were a blubbering mess.

“So how was--”

“I didn’t know--”

You both started at the same time causing you both to pause then laugh heartily. When he winced and clutched his rib again, you quickly apologized before he shushed you. “You go first,” he said, drinking water as he tried to hide his pain.

“Do you want to get an x-ray? Make sure there’s no broken bones?” You asked, worry seeping into your voice again.

“Doll, I told you. This is normal for me, part of my job.”

“But I thought you said this was a simple covert mission, no fighting involved. They should’ve added more guys to go with you,” you frowned at him which made him chuckle lightly, his heart flipping in his chest at your concern.

“That rarely happens. Really, you should see the other guys,” he made a joke of it to calm you down. Unconvinced, you smiled tentatively at him, thinking if you should still push the subject when he steered you to a different topic, asking about your work. You had explained to him animatedly about the progress you’ve made so far that you didn’t even notice how easily you guys had flit to different topics, talking about any random thing that popped into your minds, smiling and joking like it wasn’t almost four in the morning.

When you went back to your room that night, you snuggled into your blankets, giggling. You had finally been able to talk with Steve without acting like a love-sick teenager. And it was everything you thought it would be.

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After that night, you guys formed an unspoken ritual. Every time you were working late and forgot to check the clock, Steve would bring you food to your lab, reminding you of your much needed dinner break. The first time it had happened, he walked in on you snacking on some m&m’s while you continued to work. He had groaned and lectured you on about how m&m’s and any form of chocolate was not considered dinner food. So after that, he took it upon himself to make sure you had something substantial to eat, often bringing his own cooking. You had talked about everything and nothing, some deep conversations that could only be shared through trusted friends while others had you both laughing deep from your belly with tears brimming your eyes. There were times when he had been relentless with his training too, even the rest of the team had left him alone to it, and you had to drag him away. Those days you had to remind him there was no war anymore and a little break was fine. You dragged him to watch movies, listen to music he had missed and, tried out those hole-in-the-wall types of restaurants where people wouldn’t recognize him.

Steve had just gotten back from a mission with Sam and Bucky. Both boys grunted as they sat at the kitchen table, clutching their drinks.

“Man, I could really use a shower right now but I’m too tired to move,” Sam quipped, massaging his neck muscles.

“I’m gonna order us a pizza,” Bucky said and eagerly whipped his phone out. Ever since he got off the ice in Wakanda, he’d been obsessed with all the “new” technology he’d been catching up on. He sure didn’t look it but he was a science geek at heart. Often going to you for help with everything he’s missed. The guys both looked to Steve questioningly, expecting him to butt in. He usually had a lot of input after a long mission. They were greeted by silence as he had his back to them, retrieving the first-aid kit from the cupboard. When he continued to ignore them as if he hadn’t heard anything they had just said and walked to the direction of your lab, both Sam and Bucky looked at each other, knowing smirks on their faces as they nodded their heads. America’s golden boy was whipped.

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Tony and Steve had been arguing in their usual banter at the lab. The super soldier looked like the worn out parent between the two while the genius billionaire gloated at his misery. Steve was wearing a black long-sleeved sweater that did nothing to hide his muscles despite its regular fit. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him from your station with Bruce, the two of you working quietly with an occasional chuckle or two thrown at the bickering men in front of you.

Bruce cleared his throat when he caught you staring far too long at the golden-haired adonis, not paying attention to the question he was asking. You quickly averted your gaze and asked,

“I’m so sorry, what was that?” you felt your cheeks warm as he looked at you with an endearing smile.

“I said, could you please pass me that sample?” He pointed at your hand clutching the petri dish.

“Of course!” You replied, handing it to him before hiding behind your laptop to record the results of your experiment.

“Will you quit acting like a grandpa for just a second and ask Sharon out? You guys clearly hit it off at the last mission. I don’t know what the hell is taking you so long,” Tony muttered as he tinkered on.

You and Steve’s eyes snapped to each other, almost as if on instinct, before you quickly lowered yours and hid your hurt behind your laptop screen. Bruce didn’t miss the subtle exchange and tried to distract Tony off from the subject but still, the man was oblivious.

“Tony, would you just quit it?” Steve complained exasperatedly, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m just saying, Cap. You’re a hundred years old, you aren’t getting any younger, pal,” he continued on.

Before Steve could say anything else, you made a show of stretching out of your chair.

“Oh boy, I need some coffee, do you guys want any?” you asked as cheerfully as you could, looking for an escape.

“Oh you just read my mind! Didn’t I say she was the best?” Tony asked rhetorically, his hand gesturing to you as he looked at the men in the room. You missed the way Steve’s eyes had softened when they landed on you. The only reason he was even here.

“I could use one right now, angel. Thank you!” Tony continued, using the nickname he had given you since you started working here, giving you a quick smile before going back to work.

“I could use one too, thanks.” Bruce nodded at you.

“Alright. How about you, Steve?” you turned to him, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as he looked at you, an endearing smirk playing on the corner of his lips while he shook his head no.

“I’ll go with you, help you carry it.” He said, already standing up.

“What? Pssh. No. It’s fine, I got it.” You dismissed him playfully, leaving the lab as fast as you could, a weight in your chest as Tony continued to berate him into asking Sharon out on a date.

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You decided to get Steve coffee anyway. You knew he was only being a gentleman because he didn’t want you having a hard time carrying all of it back to the lab. Grabbing some snacks too, you made your way back, a tray balancing on your hands when you heard Tony scream your name. Uh-oh.

You opened the door to see Bruce and Steve laughing their asses off while Tony looked at you with murder in his eyes. “Did you just hack my playlist and change it all to spice girls?” he bellowed over the music, hands on his hips. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. It was supposed to be a prank between the two of you. He said you couldn’t hack into the system he created and you just had to prove him wrong. You thought you had put a timer on F.R.I.D.A.Y to just change it when he was alone. Guess you weren’t as good a hacker as you thought you were.

“Sorry,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“You don’t even look sorry. You could at least tell me you saved my old playlist,”

Uh-oh. “I think so?”

“Oh, come on!” he whined.

“Sorry, but you questioned my hacking skills!” You replied indignantly.

“Because you’re not a hacker!” he emphasized each word, making you giggle.

“I really am sorry! Look, I’m sure if there’s anyone here who could get it back, it’s you.” your sickly sweet voice belied the trick you still held up your sleeve.

“Damn right, I could,” he replied arrogantly, typing into his hologrammed board as he gave instructions to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

You sipped the coffee in your hands, hiding the smirk on your lips. Bruce thanked you for the wonderful prank and you gave him a little curtsy in return as he grabbed an extra cinnamon roll, still smiling. All the while Steve looked down at the tray, his insides warming at your thoughtfulness, you had brought him his favorite yogurt and fruits knowing he’d prefer those over the sugary treats. He was suddenly pulled out of his reverie when Celine Dion’s haunting voice rang out, almost making him spit his coffee out of his mouth as he burst out laughing, watching Tony’s face get flushed. He turned to you as you carelessly threw your head back, laughing. Anyone who could take Tony down a peg, he admired, and knowing that it was your brilliant mind that had the genius sputtering in annoyance made him love you even more.

“Oh doll…” he exhaled. “This is why I fell in love with you.”

Everyone in the room suddenly stilled. Tony’s audible, “Oh” popped in the background making Steve screw his face up in confusion. What the heck? He saw your eyes widen, your cheeks turning beet red. Oh crap.

He said that out loud, didn’t he?

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #hopingforbarnes250writingchallenge #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x awkward!reader

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snapefiction · 4 years

Text

You are all I am still being for - Snapefiction

A/N: Thank you so much for this Request! ( @artisticreptilequeen ) I had a fun but also hard time writing it and by now I have read it like a thousand times and can't decide wether I like or dislike it anymore but still as always- I hope you love it! Happy Valentines day and don't forget to love yourself. 💓

��️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️

Word Count: 7338

Trigger Warnings: Breakup, Swearing, Angst

Y/N - Your Name

You are all I am still being for

It was always quite clear to you of how you imagined your Future. Since Severus entered your life or more likely stumbled into your life he was a part of your planned Future. And Despite everyones expectations the both of you connected quickly and stayed together even after you both graduated. It wasn’t easy to make things work all the time, it was rather tough and tricky. But it never had really bothered you. Not until now. You rarely spoke anymore. You lived together but past each other. You simply became strangers. So the both of you knew what would have to happen.

Looking in his eyes you couldn’t see the warmth they once gave you but shivers.Looking in his eyes you felt like you looked through them.

,,Is it because of me?“ He shook his head slowly but steady. Gasping for a bit of air he hesitated before answering.

,,We aren’t the same anymore. I feel like-“ ,,You don’t know me anymore?“ He closed his mouth. Blinked once and lowered his Glance. You knew that feeling and you also knew defeat. There was no difference anymore. Not in his words wether in his actions. You were defeated and it took over your relationship.

,,We have changed. We won’t work out anymore.“ The Words swept through the room as your Eyes looked into each others again. Now it was you. You gasped for air only to hold back a sob. As Always he hurried over to you, slung his arms around your bent figure and leaned his head on yours.The Tears were streaming- they didn’t even announce themselves but just flood out of your eyes as soon as the heartbreaking sob left your lips. There were so many Moments you knew that a relationship wouldn’t be able to last through this. Some things break under pressure and now as sad as it was - it was your time to break. Your greatest Vulnerability hit you and somehow you knew that you wouldn’t be able to fully recover from this.

„I´ll miss you.“ You said not really knowing how honest those words were meant to be.

- Four Months. It have been four Months since you and Severus have broken. Not only did you move out of your shared chambers but also quit your Job at Hogwarts.You were desperate to try something new for a long time now and maybe this would be your new start into a new adventure.

Thinking about it you almost smiled. You had a rough time lately, well, you literally just broke up with your ex boyfriend of more than just a few intense years. For Today was set a Celebration in honour of Hogwarts and the end of the School year. Also you counted it as your Goodbye to the castle and hoped it would made you feel anything more like a independent Person who was about to seek a new adventure. So you wore your prettiest Clothes, pinned up your hair and prep talked yourself ready for the Party. Remus, your best friend told you to meet him there. So you made your way there being excited and happy. There was almost no chance that Severus would be there too since he despised Parties and People in general . Perfect for you. Walking through the Room, grabbing a drink you were looking for your best friend. He was always late since he started dating Tonks which you actually didn’t mind. Soaking yourself in the Expectation that Remus would follow you any minute you looked around and greeted some guests. Until your eyes met her. She was like jewellery hanging on his arm decorating him. Severus was there with someone. Quickly turning to Filius who suddenly just stood next to you, you asked him everything about her.

,,Filius, who’s that girl?“ As he answered you didn’t even noticed how you stopped paying attention to him after he gave you enough information. All you saw were them.

Sky. She was literally named after the beautifulest creations of all and you couldn’t hold your thoughts back but compare yourself to her. To her beauty as she stood there in the dim candlelight. To her laughter as she laughed slightly at one of someones jokes. To her smile as she appreciated nice words from one of the other guests. To her whole being as she stood this close to the Man you still loved. She was perfect and like a avalanche self doubt, sorrow and even self pity swept you off the ground. At first you just stared over to her again and again, then you began to walk from the middle of the room to the edge only to crook your Posture and hoped to become invisible. She was so slim, so beautiful, so smart and interesting while you felt like a useless speck of dust. Even if you wouldn’t compare yourself to her you wouldn’t be able to not notice the way he looked at her. How Severus laid his Hand on her upper back. How he smiled and drank from his Glas. How he actually made people smile. Your stomach turned and you intended to leave the room. Enough is enough. Your feet carried you outwards the Room through the corridors to your Chambers. As if it wasn’t enough that you had to see her you also had to see him in a way that you weren’t able to make him - happy. Pressing your lips to a thin line you tried to swallow the sobs that pressured to be let out. The Tears were already flooding but you told yourself you would hold back as long as you can. The Halls seemed endless long and you tried to not think of every memory you had shared with him that drained you to a total breakdown.

It was too much for your dear heart to handle. Seeing him not noticing you was a lot but seeing him not noticing you because he was happy with someone else was summoning all your worst nightmares. Also it weren’t just your feelings. It was the physical Pain it caused you. The way your chest burned and heart was in pure pain. How your fingertips turned numb, your earlobes felt warm, your knees almost gave in and your face became puffy and red. It was the pain of it all. And by that it was clear. The both of you were officially broken up.

Hearing a knock you got out off bed. You pulled your Jacket over your arms and tiptoed to the door. Merlin, it was way to late for visitors. You have been falling asleep while crying earlier and would’ve wished it could’ve stayed this way. Opening the Door it was Remus standing in the middle of the frame waiting for you.

,,How are you?“ Shrugging your shoulders you stepped aside. As if your puffy face, the way you left the Party early and probably Filius confused reaction weren’t enough to tell.

,,How am I supposed to feel after that?“ Smiling emphatically with pity he accepted the silent invite and sat down at your sofa. Following him you started to babble. „Do you know her? Did you knew about this?“ The words you actually didn’t expected a answer but they left your mouth so quickly.

Sighing he nodded almost invisible. ,,I’ve met her at the Ministry before but I didn’t knew about their relationship or whatever it may be. Oddly he hasn’t told me when I picked up my Potions.“ A small ironic laughter escaped you. Severus would probably never get along with Remus.

,,Of course not. I´m sorry, it´s just.. I’m still..“

,,Hurt?“ He took the teapot from the desk and filled two cuppas for the both of you. Shrugging your shoulders which felt like you had to carry a enormous weight you didn’t answer any further and tried to sort your thoughts.

,,There are only three weeks left of school and i have talked to Sirius-´´He passed you your teacup. ,,And he’d glad to welcome you. Until you found a place of your own.“ Your eyes were locked with the cup in your Hands. You tried to forget this part. All your belongings were still at Severus House at Spinners End. You couldn’t stay there any longer and had to get them. You had to face the bare truth one last time before your past would be able to vanish behind all the barriers that you were trying to build.

,,Y/N?“ Looking up you just nodded. ,,Thank you, Remus. It’s tough finding something- those are tough times.“ Again he smiled. As always was Remus proving you that he’d always be there to help you out.

,,Do you think I can get my stuff this weekend and get it to the Grimmaulds Place? I don’t want to step on Severus toes and rely on him any longer than needed.“

,,Sirius told me that you’re welcome any time.“ Swallowing a lump from your throat you looked at him.

,,What would I do without you?“ Refilling his cup again he laughed.

,,No worries, dear. That’s what friends are for. Can I help you with something else?“

,,No.“ You sighed and tried to smile gratefully. ,,Can you just talk to me about something else?“ And after that he told you about anything that had happened at the Party besides Severus. About how Filch danced with Mrs. Norris, Hagrid and Filius sang together and Horace Slughorn himself broke his own Butterbeer Record.

The Weekend crept around rather quickly and as you were walking out of the cabin it was like a Suction. You took in everything at once. The smell of Severus that laid in the Air. The small Details hidden in his Bookshelves, the flair of the house itself. Everything.

This didn’t feel like leaving Severus, you thought, it feels like losing your Home. At first you weren’t daring to walk around so you just hurried upstairs. Grabbing your Bag you charmed it so you’d be able to make everything fit in there. You grabbed your clothes, your notebooks, a few of your books, personal belongings and last but not least you stopped at your Night shelf. Pulling it open you looked at the Necklace that Severus had gotten you as Teenagers. At the Letters you kept from him. The Newspaper Article of him and his favourite Book that he wanted to know safe in your Possession. Those were the last things connecting you to him. For a second you stopped. Looking at the content from above before only taking the Letters you once received from him. Those other things simply weren’t meant for you anymore.

Shoving them carefully into your Bag you closed it up and pulled it over your shoulder. This would be the last time that you’d visit this place. For a moment you thought about walking around one last time and soaking all the left memories in but as you heard noises from downstairs you apparated away. Standing in front of the Grimmaulds Place No. 12 you knew that this was your silent goodbye to Severus and the life you had connected to him.

,,Home, sweet Home. Or more like Room, sweet Room.“ Sirius joked while showing you your new accommodation.

,,I promise that I won’t bother you for too long.“ Shaking his Head he just laughed again.

,,You don’t bother me at all. Actually I’m pretty happy that I’m not alone in this house. Kreacher can be a dunderhead but I hope you’ll still like it here.“

,,It’s a beautiful House.“ A nod from both sides. ,,I´m glad you’re here, Y/N.“

,,Thank you, Sirius.“ Appreciating your friends benevolence you sat down on the bed.

By that he left the room and for the first time in your life you were truly alone.

Your Job at the Ministry started well. Your colleagues were warm hearted and welcomed you quickly. It was easy to fulfil every expectations and still have fun at work. So it came that you connected to your colleagues quickly too. Especially with Achilles Grey. A young blonde Man who was working in a office above you. He was offering to show you around and connected his intentions by also inviting you to dinner afterwards. At first you declined but after a few weeks you gave in to get his begging to an end.

Seeing Achilles was different. He was mindful. He pushed your chair back for you. He didn’t kiss your Lips but the back of your Hand as a greeting. He brought you Flowers every now and then and he cared. He cared for you. And when he kissed you on this night after he took you out for dinner everything was different. Your heart broke again. It broke in two. Because for once you were happy again but it wasn’t with the Person you planned your life out with. It was bittersweet.

Slowly, torturing slowly for him but for you furiously fast, you two grew closer together. And after five Months of meeting up for dinners regularly, talking within your breaks and having his full attention at all times you two entered a committed relationship.

It’s not like you asked him to give you presents all the time, focusing completely on you, having him always paying dinner and anything else but he practically begged you to let him do this for you. He wanted to spoil you rotten as his love language. It was a confusion trait of your relationship because you simply weren’t used to this. To love loudly and openly. It wasn’t balanced like with Severus. With Achilles it was all or nothing, he loved in extreme ways. Or at least that’s the way you felt like. Everyone around you was admiring your relationship calling it unique and meant to be.

You didn’t knew what your relationship really depended on. Was it Love? Trust? Or just the need of being with someone? Was it the fear of being alone? Whatever it was, it was a lot. And it was fast. So to relieve Sirius hospitality you even accepted to move in with Achilles after a short amount of being together. Things went on quickly but Achilles never mind. Actually sometimes he was already talking about a marriage or children as he couldn’t wait to finally achieve the Life he dreamed about so badly.

Sobbing you walked through the Grimmaulds Place. It was horrific. Another Fight within three days. Quickly you walked through the Corridor only to run up the Stairs where you almost crushed together with Remus. Wiping your eyes you tried to hide your pain.

,,Y/N..“ He didn’t asked what had happened since he already knew what had been going on. Without saying anything he embraced your hug. Sushing silently he patted your Back. ,,If you’d like to talk- then Sirius and I are always here for you.“

Nodding you carefully let go while trying not to cry for a few seconds. He was right. It wasn’t right of you to storm his house regularly without telling him what was going on at all. So a few Minutes later you found yourself sitting at the long table starting to talk about Achilles and yours Relationship.

„He wants it. He wants it all. A Family with children, a House to call our own, a Marriage, Me and if it’s possible everything by tomorrow. And he loves me so much. I can’t remember someone loving me so much. But I never felt so alone. So alone and lost. I’m not ready for this. I can’t give him all of this.“ You ended admitting while wiping your nose not daring to look up to the both of them. Your friends have never seen you like that. You never have talked to them about your relationship with Severus because except the part that you grew to live apart you never had issues like that. Only when it was too late they had to carry your sorrow and take care of you the way you’ve down for them a million times before.

,,It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything of that.“ Remus began shoving some chocolate over the Table.

,,He’s a Prick for always fighting with you.“ Sirius began and the Conversation just got lost in a discussion about what you truly deserved and some more and some less precious advices from them. The Conversation went along in front of your eyes but you weren’t a part of it. That’s how you have felt since a while now. Life went on in front of your eyes but you weren’t a part of it. You felt like a doll. Living up to everyone exceptions of a good girlfriend, friend, worker and human. But you didn’t notice how quickly you lost yourself.

You hated the Heat. You turned to hate the Summer. You’ve been together with Achilles something over a year yet which lead to certain events happening. Big Events happening and following. Nervous you sat down at one of the rather rare Meetings of the Order. After Voldemorts Death multiple Years ago you only met up a few times a year. That’s why everyone was greeting each other happily and waited for everyone to meet up.

,,It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.“ Albus spoke softly to you. ,,And congratulations on the Engagement.“ Nodding you tried to over hear it and somehow play it off. Engagement. What a irrational idea of itself, you thought.

,,Engagement?“ Molly quickly gasped and hurried over to look at the Ring on your Hand. ,,When did he ask you? How did he ask you?“ Quietly you started to talk while Molly held onto your Finger.

,,We went on a walk and at our favourite Place he dropped on one knee and asked me.“ Your mumbled. You felt so exposed and exploited and couldn’t feel the happiness that everyone was showing you. The whole Situation died down completely as Severus walked in. Molly let go of your hand and smilingly went to the Kitchen to get more tea. But Severus eyes immediately fell on you. On the Ring on your Hand. His reaction was important for you. You couldn’t tell why but you had to know how he reacts but when he showed you no emotion at all you felt disappointed. He only had to say one word and you’d change your mind on being with Achilles. Severus still owned your feelings but time made you change your Priorities. Why being with someone who can’t love me back? So why shouldn’t I be in a relationship with someone who was loving me to pieces and make him happy and fulfil his wishes. Even if it had cost you your happiness.

Slowly guiding the beautiful white dress over your curves you looked at yourself in the mirror. Pressing your lips to a thin line you tried to figure out who that in the mirror might be. It wasn’t the self vision you once owned by yourself anymore. It was a lonely human, a silent human. So much has changed in the last time and still you never found happiness in not even one thing. You simply became a version of yourself that you never knew laid within you. The silent version. The one that had no energy anymore. The one that forgot to laugh. But you have told yourself that you loved him, you loved Achilles so that’s why you were saying yes all those time ago and now willed to marry him.

Quietly almost inaudible you heard a small short knock. Was it a knock? Or just imagination? As you intended to call them in you heard a loud knock. A determined one.

,,Come in.“ You said while pulling the dress over your shoulders and putting the veil in your hair. Slow and silent Movements were now to be heard in the room.

,,Achilles, it’s bad luck that you see me before the ceremony.“ You whispered while turning away from the mirror now not being able to see him and sliding into your shoes. He never had high expectations when it was a bout rules or traditions. The Figure stood behind you but you just closed your eyes. Even if he hated traditions you wouldn’t ruin them. But as he said nothing you got confused. Wasn’t he supposed to already await you at the Aisle?

,,Please, don’t marry him.“ Your eyes shot open and your feet quickly made you spun around. You’d recognise his voice out of a million ones. Blinking you tried to hold back tears that quickly swelled up. Your Lips shivered but you weren’t able to form sentences besides a small: ,,What?“.

Severus was standing there in front of you, not Achilles. His tall Figure was enveloped in his formal black suit. He looked thinner and his face wasn’t just usually pale but almost grey. Damp hung his hair low covering a half of his face. He had gotten some brighter hairs between his black ones. Like you were caught in a dream you looked up to him. He also seemed to be taller which was probably just a fabrication of your fantasy. But in your mind he was almost towering you.

„Don´t marry him, Y/N.“ The onyx eyes became glossy as they connected to yours again. For a second you forgot what he meant or which Wedding he was indicating to. Until his desperate voice made you realise it quickly like they would hit you with a brick.

,,I can see that you’re not happy.“ His Hands rushed through his hair brushing strains behind his ear. ,,Please. We´re both not happy anymore, are we?“ Your Throat was like sealed. You were looking for words but there were no right words for you. Whatever you’d say now was decisive for someone else’s life.

,,Severus, I don’t know what to say. You know that- I can’t do this.“ Quickly he shook his head.

,,Why not?“ Your eyes scanned the room in hectic while avoiding him. Was this real? Your heart was blasting against your ribcage.,,Because it’s not fair. I can’t do this to him on our meant to be wedding day.“ Quickly Severus took your hands in his.

,,You know that that’s not true. It was never fair of him to force this Engagement on to you.“ Suddenly he stood so close. Your breathing slowed down and you closed your eyes only to feel his presence.

,,What do you want me to do? What am I supposed to say?“ One of his tall Hands wandered under your chin only to make you look up to him.

,,Tell him the Truth. That he isn’t good enough for you and never will be. That you despise everything about him.About this Life and that you’re way better off with-"

,,With you? Is that what you’re trying to say? If I may remind you-" You pulled your chin away and let go of his hand only to step back a few feet. ,,If I may remind you of the Fact that you didn’t want me either. That we weren’t good enough for each other as well.“ Pulling off your Gloves you sniffed. ,,You did a very good Job at proving it to me everyday.“ Tears started to smear your make up but you couldn't care less. This - whatever was happening right now - was more important than anything else to you. Now it was Severus who hesitated before he shook his head.

,,But I still love you. Everyday I wake up I realise it’s only you that I’m still living for. Without you I would’ve been dead by now a million times. Everyday I survived I dedicate to you. And I know that if you will marry this idiocy of a man I won’t be tomorrow. I will break into a thousand pieces and spend the rest of my life thinking about a life that could've been mine. I can't pretend that everything is fine when you're back at Hogwarts when I know you made a big mistake. You are all I am still being for. Are you even happy anymore? Please, don’t marry him. That’s all I’m asking for. Not any other chances or anything else but please don’t marry him.“

,,Now that I'm trying to do something right you show up and want me to give up everything I build up."

,,I ask you to do the right thing for yourself." He concluded before taking a step forward. Your Voices were now risen out of the heat just to turn down in the following second.

,,What about Sky? What about Achilles? What about me? What are we supposed to do?" Again he tried to reach out for your hand. Just to hold it carefully.

,,Sky? She never was important to me and Achilles has been engaged several times before which he always called off on his own. He will survive. But I want you to survive and to be able to become happy again. I saw your face when you announced the Engagement that wasn’t love you were talking about. I know your love.“

,,I spent my entire Life loving you and .. and now you ask me to do the unbearable for you. All the Reasons you named.. they were all dedicating to your own luck."

,,Because you are my Luck."

,,Severus, This is not a Game."

,,I know it's hard and I know that you're confused. But if you ever doubted this and want to run away I will be waiting for you in front of the Church."

He slightly pressed your hand carefully before taking a last deep look in your eyes only to vanish behind the white old wooden door.

The only thing left you could hear was your heartbeat. How loud your blood pressed through your veins and ended up in that burning point behind your ribs. Your mouth run dry and you didn't dare to move. Did this really happen? Was he really here? A mixture of every possible emotion was rushing through you.

Even though you knew the hurtful consequences you did the only right thing left to do. Time was rushing and your blood pressure was working up louder and louder in your ears like you woke up from a fever dream.

Your feet hurt from the high white shoes that you had been wearing all day long but now wasn’t the time to complain. And when you took the stairs, almost running you felt like you'd escape. Like you were breaking free. The Bells rung which was your sign to walk up the aisle. But instead of running to the chapel your feet carried you through the huge doors. Away from the few people that have been waiting for this Wedding. Away from Achilles, his Life and all his expectations that never suited you anyways.

And when you opened the door to the old blue shabby car you just grabbed your dress and left everything behind. As the Cardoor closed Severus didn't hesitated. He started the Motor and looked at you one last time.

,,Are you ready?“ Nodding you smiled. For the first time in years you really smiled which turned into a lough heartfelt laughter. And as soon as you crossed the corner Severus let the car fly towards a new destination that would now change your life for the better.

Two months later. To be exact two months, nine days and almost 9 Hours later you were nervously standing in front of Achilles and your Flats Door. Just Breathe- you told yourself which had a rather uncalming effect because you were already breathing, right? And it wasn't solving your problems just like that. Knocking twice he already opened the door. The Frown on his face was hurtful but you had no right to be hurt. You did this to him and you felt no regrets so you had to go through this.

,,Y/N." He greeted before walking down the Flat you just until the latest events have had shared.

,,Achilles, can we talk for a moment?" He stopped in his tracks standing in the middle of the small hallway.

,,I don't know what you want to talk about. I was just hoping that I finally found my significant other. For the first time in my life I was completely sure about something. It's just-" he turned around. ,,I'm not the one you want." His bright eyes grew glossy for a moment but then he turned back around. ,,I just hope that you're happier." And by that he lead the way for you to the bedroom. He already collected some things of yours and lined them up in the bed.

,,Thank you.“ He nodded firmly and tried not to look at you. He was dealing with it in his own strict ways. Quickly and carefully you collected your few Belongings before you turned to him one last time.

,,I'm sorry, I really am but.. I couldn't give you what you wanted so bad. You'll find them and will be the most happiest you ever were. You're a good Person." Again he just nodded and watched you leaving the Bedroom. As you held the Doorknob of the Entrance door in your hand you heard him one last time.

,,And i hope Severus will treat you right this time." Quickly you turned around. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you opened your mouth to say something but stopped quickly. You haven't though about getting back together with Severus until just now. He helped you move back to Hogwarts and that Thing at the Wedding. "That Thing". But getting back together? You ran away from a wedding, your wedding to be specific and now he thinks you rambled from one relationship to the next? Well, what else was he supposed to believe as you ran away with your Ex? You closed your Mouth, opened the door and left without further Words. This simply wasn’t your Home anymore.

Since the Wedding and after he helped you get back to Hogwarts Severus hasn’t had spoken to you. You hadn't intended a conversation either but also there was no possibility for it. You decided to get your thoughts straight back first.

When you were accepting the job a while back last school year which was around three months before your Wedding you weren't expecting your „comeback“ like that. Single again, running to your chambers only wearing your brides dress, your veil, white high heels and the prettiest underwear ever and starting a new chapter you knew nothing about.

It was a rare gift for you to be able to comeback to Hogwarts. After your and Severus Breakup you were quickly on your feet to practically flee from him. So as surprise as Dumbledore was as you left the school you were even more surprised that he asked you come back. The Job at the Ministry was alright. It was simple and the People were nice but it could never fulfil you as much as the Job as a Teacher did. Also it was no big secret that not only the Teaching at Hogwarts was special. The whole atmosphere took you back to a completely different Time. You didn’t only accept a Job but a different world of it’s own.

,,Y/N! I´m happy yer back! I think ye won’t need a Tour around, do ya?“ Hagrid joked at Dinner while shoving a whole steak into his mouth. Shaking your head you laughed only to answer:,,I don’t think so, but thank you.“ As your smile turned into a grin you noticed someone walking up to the Dinner Table as well. You didn’t had to take a look to know who it was. You’d recognise him everywhere. His steps almost echoed in the Hall and as quick as he walked he was sitting down next to you. It was weird at first, sitting next to him again after everything that had happened. The both of you haven’t talked about the wedding anymore. You haven’t talked in General and it was weird. The last time the two of you met he confessed all his feelings to you after not talking for almost a few years and now he sat there not even looking at you. It probably was his way of dealing with - with what exactly? Probably everything.

,,Good evening, Severus.“ You greeted silently before taking a bite of your favourite Food as well. Those three words costed you a lot of Courage which were quickly gifted by his response.

,,Evening.“ As Charming as always he didn’t hesitate you remain cold and as silent as possible. Continuing to eat you suddenly felt different. It didn’t feel like the new adventure anymore like you just had titled it. It was like a wave taking you over. For a second you stopped in your tracks until you realised that it was the feeling of feeling like yourself again. You grew back to the Person you aspired to be and the Person you were the most comfortable being. A great way to start your old new life you thought before finishing dinner and preparing you classes for tomorrow.

Stressed you grabbed your book and started to wander. Even though you loved teaching it could be difficult at times. Just like today you had a massive Headache. Everywhere you went was someone following and asking you questions. You knew how important the O.W.L´s are but sometimes the stressed students seem to forget how desperately you were already trying to help them reach the best Knowledge they can and how exhausted you got too after your first month back at Hogwarts. So with no other intention than finding some peace you ran up to the Astrology Tower. Holding the Book close so the last few Papers you had to grade wouldn’t slip you took a deep breath as you got there. To your surprise you weren’t alone. Severus sat there hunched over some papers looking up like a caught deer.

,,Oh, I´m sorry. I can leave if you want. I just needed a quiet Place.“

,,I did too.“ He cleared his throat. „Take a seat.“ Severus said before turning back to his book. Quietly to not disturb the silence and found peace you sat down on the floor leaning your back against the wall. You’ve been sitting on this hard chair in your office and classes all day and now you were glad to finally just lean against something and pull your knees close so you could lean your papers and book against your legs. Sometimes you heard Severus Feather scratching on the Paper or him huffing - probably because of some silly answers from one of his students. Back then the both of you used to chuckle at them together. But besides that it was silent. The Sun went slowly down and as you finally lightened some Candles he turned on his seat towards you.

,,Are you even comfortable down there?“ His pale face was turned worried but you just smiled and nodded.

,,Actually it’s way more comfortable than it may seem. You should give it a try.“ A short moment on you could see his thoughts debate but as you put your book aside and moved a little bit so he would have enough space he got up only to sit down on the floor next to you. Somehow he looked kind of lost alone there on the floor next to you. You saw that not the surface was uncomfortable for him but the Situation in general. Your smile left your lips as you began to wonder how the person you not only trusted but also loved the most could turn into a stranger.

„Isn’t it weird to-“ You took a deep breath only to pause a bit longer and continue as the words finally came to your mind. „Isn’t it weird to just sit here? After everything we’ve been through?“ His dark eyes looked over to you. He looked so tired and time had made him age years. „I do not only miss you.. I miss my Best Friend.“ His lips were sealed as he listened to your confession. As always he sorted his Thoughts first before saying anything. A nod followed and now he straightened his Back.

„We’ve been together our whole Life. It’s not easy to ignore it all and act like there has never been anything between the both of us.“ His eyes didn’t leave yours. He was paying full attention to all of you right now.

„Be honest.“ Your Heart raced like crazy as it was a important Question for you. „Don’t you miss me just a bit?“ Rolling his eyes he shook his head smiling vividly.

„You really think I wouldn’t miss you?“ Carefully his Hand crept closer to yours until he took it in his. „Why would I have made you changed your mind at the Wedding if I wasn’t missing you?“

„You make it look so easy.“ Your Body moved closer to him. This burning sensation came back until your faces were so close the tip of your noses touched and your lips could almost feel the warmth of his. The intensity of your feelings were almost overtaking you.

„You do too.“ His eyes were closed and he had to restrain as good as he could trying to give you the space you asked for so badly a few years ago. His heart was racing, screaming at him to move to fill the little gasp between you. But he didn’t do it.

„We both know we wouldn’t work out in a relationship.“ He mumbled and when his Lip accidentally stroked yours for a millisecond he almost broke down.

„We could.. just for the melancholy..“ Your eyes were closed by now too. Being this close was messing with your senses. His smell was filling your nose, his air filling your lungs and he at all made your blood boil.„Just a kiss.“ You whsipered.

„Just a kiss.“ Nodding, because you were unable to speak you felt him finally doing it. His Lips touched yours. Eagerly, hungry, loving. His Hands left yours and his cupped your cheeks only to deepen the kiss and make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Your Hands were grasped to his collar, he loved it whenever you did that to him. If he only knew what he still did to you. From a fast passionate kiss it slowed down to a loving desperate one. Gasping for air you had to let go of him. His eyes were widened and he was shocked.

„Just for the Melancholy.“ He now repeated while nodding quickly and Severus kissed you again. Again. Again. And again. You lost the track of time for a moment. Just a loud Noise made you tear apart. You accidentally pushed one of the Candleholders over. Flustered and blushing you woke up from the Trance that had overtaken you. The Wax had spilled on the Floor and as it splashed right next to your Papers you quickly got up to check up on those. As you flicked through the Pages you sighed in relief. Thankfully everything was till fine. In the Meantime was Severus already casting away the spilled Mess and made some distance between the both of you. He was still overwhelmed by the Situation, just as you were.

„Do you want me to walk you back to your chambers? It’s already very late.“ A smile widened on your face as you got up from the Floor. „Just for the Melancholy?“ Quickly he smiled and even though he tried to hide his cheeks behind his curtain of hair you saw him blushing. The walk was silent at first. You were still thinking about what had happened but as your chambers got closer and closer you just started to babble about the first thing that came into your mind until you did reach your door. Severus was listening carefully to every word you spoke. He always has been a good listener and you knew how much more he enjoyed to listen rather than to speak. Holding the Doorknob in your Hand you smiled vividly at him.

„Thank you.“ His Figure in this dim light made your knees weak. All the thoughts about him made you weak. He made you vulnerable again.

„Goodnight, Y/N.“ And as you walked into your chambers and saw those raw Walls again you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. All your Thoughts this night would be dedicated to Severus, again. You were so thankful that he had been saving you from one of the worst decisions that you could’ve ever made.

It became a habitat of yours to finish your classes as fast as you could, eat some lunch and then finally almost run to the Astrology Tower every Afternoon. And as always as you saw him you two promised that there were no Feelings attached and it was just for the Melancholy. At first you thought it would be a clever idea. Hide all your Feelings behind this Barriers of Lies. But time proved you wrong. You felt this addiction again, you wanted more of him ,no- you needed more of him. Each one of the thousands of Kisses made you desperate for more. Things got more and more steamy. Hands started wandering more and further and every Night you walked back to your Rooms with him by your side only to drop you off to shorter Nights and needier and more desperate Thoughts than ever. The rest that was left of you now was just a mess. You needed to talk to him, get the collected Frustration that build up finally released. You needed clarification. After three Months of meeting him everyday you needed him to know about your emotions.

You even skipped Lunch to run to the Astronomy Tower. You couldn’t wait to talk to him. Of course you were afraid since the only thing that made this flirtation work was the pretext of doing it because anything else wouldn’t work out in other contexts. But for you it wasn’t just Melancholy anymore. It probably never was.

Opening the Door you saw the Room being left empty. Empty? Severus was always here. He never ate Lunch and just graded his Papers in peace. Where was he? Out of Fear you could miss him you sat down and waited. Time never passed this slow but today was every second punishing you. The Sun went down again and your patience broke down completely. Running like your life was depending on it you hurried down to the Dungeons. Your nervousness made your vision blurry and thoughts crazy. So when you finally reached Severus Door you knocked as loud as you could fearing it was almost too late to confess yourself to him since it was your turn to finally admit yourself towards him. And the both of you knew that.

He hasn´t fully opened his door yet but you were already talking. „Severus, I love you. I cannot act like this between us wouldn’t work out anymore. I know it would because I’m willing to do anything to make it work, okay? You’re the most important Person in my Life and-“

„Y/N!“ He now finally interrupted slightly taken by surprise. He took your Hand in his only to pull you inside his Rooms. Remus who was probably just picking up some Wolfsbane quickly hurried out of the room but not without grinning widely. You didn’t really pay any attention to him. You were just looking at the dark tall man in front of you which you adored so much. As the door was finally closed behind Lupin he let go of your Hand and pulled you into a tight Hug.

„Welcome Home, Love. I have missed you so much.“

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we-are-inevitable · 4 years

Text

new javid au?? you bet!!

hi ok so i thought of an au. basically a stereotypical hallmark movie but make it javid. this au featuures: jack “i was raised on a farm and practice saying important conversations to my cows” kelly and david “i went to college in a big city because i’m built different” jacobs

i might eventually write this out into a fic !! soooo,,

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION:

the jacobs family lives in a small town in a southwestern state.

david jacobs is, of course, a bit of an outsider in the town. he's not interested in farming or country things, he's more into the Big Outside World and wants to study something that isn't very "traditional" for his area (i'm thinking comparative literature or journalism (with a minor in queer studies that he Does Not Talk About because Hello, Small Town!)

anyways he has a devoted friendgroup that he spends a lot of time with:

sarah (david's twin sister, who isn't afraid to get into trouble and has never been very 'ladylike'; plays softball and runs track with tony)

jack (latino farm boy with a heart of gold, a shitty father and a hidden artistic talent; basically the glue that holds the group together)

katherine (a girl who constantly feels trapped in a close-minded small town and wants to get out; also into journalism)

tony (who they call racetrack because he's an all-state cross country runner; biggest dumbass but can solve any math problem ever)

sean (he's basically a god on the football field; extremely intelligent, can play at least 6 instruments; called 'spot' bc Freckles)

charlie (Literally The Best Human Ever; student council president, National Honor Society president, also in drama)

and albert (probably a stoner but he's chill and legitimately the funniest person; troublemaker but also a literal golden retriever)

there's more of them that float between friend groups, but, of course, Davey, Sarah, Jack, Katherine, Tony, Sean, Charlie, and Albert are the "core" friends.

but. surprise: davey is the only one who goes out of state for college.

the rest split up, but stay in state. Jack goes to a trade school (he takes welding courses at the local vo-tech), Tony and Sean end up going to a community college together about 30 minutes away from home, albert goes straight into the workforce under a relative's wing, and charlie, kath, and sarah all go to a big university about 3 hours away from home.

but not davey. no, davey goes to a school in new york, just because he needs to get away from everything.

because davey goes to school on the other side of the country, he rarely gets the chance to come home. this, of course, means that he slowly drifts away from all of his high school friends- aside from sarah, obviously, because he still sees family a lot, but he doesn't talk to anyone else that often... especially jack.

now, jack and david were never a "thing," but there was always some underlying tension. longing stares, late night talks on the roof of jack's barn, hangouts at the diner in town. they were inseperable, pretty much. by far the closest friends out of the group... until jack and katherine started dating. and, yeah, david is happy for them. he's so happy for them- he jumps up and down and screams and shouts when kath and jack show up to school one day holding hands- because jack and katherine have been his closest friends for YEARS. they’re their own little subgroup- Jack, Kath, and Davey- and they go pretty much everywhere together. sometimes sarah tags along too, so david isn't third wheeling, but most of the time it's just the three of them.

but it hurts so much, because david likes jack. but jack is apparently straight. so david goes away. goes to a school across the country instead of, yknow, facing his feelings.

FAST FORWARD TO ABOUT TEN YEARS LATER!!!

david is a successful 28 year old. after graduating from college (where he ended up double majoring in english and journalism, with a minor in queer studies), he works for a publishing company and has a pretty cushy job as an editor or something, idk yet, and he's doing really, really well for himself- until one day, he gets a call from his mom, Esther, and finds out that his father is sick. sicker than he should be, really, and they're just now convincing him to get checked out.

of course, after hearing the news, David is torn. his family is from a small town, so job opportunities are hard to come by... but regardless, within a little over a week, David has moved back home to help take care of things.

pretty soon, david has a job. thanks to his background knowledge in journalism and his writing ability, he's able to score a job from Joseph Pulitzer, who runs a few newspapers in their town and others in the surrounding area. he feels like he's gotten a whole new start from the past he disliked so much, until it all comes back to bite him in the ass when he runs into Jack Kelly at the co-op.

"Davey?"

"Wha-- Oh! Jack?"

"Good to see ya, man! What are ya doin' back?"

"I moved back a few weeks ago. Missed home, you know?"

"Just couldn't stay away, could ya?"

"Guess not."

they talk for a few minutes, but eventually have to split apart- jack has to get his feed back to the farm before his girls, aka: his cows, get angry, and davey has to get the chicken scratch back home before esther maims him. they exchange numbers, though, and promise to catch up sometime soon.

after that encounter, Jack Kelly ends up showing up a lot more often. davey sees him all the time without meaning to. in line at the grocery store, at the co-op, stopped next to him at the one stoplight in the middle of town- everywhere. they're never able to talk, though; not until one evening, davey gets a call from jack.

at first, conversation is a bit tense- but only because it's been so long since they've talked. once the ball gets rolling, though, they're laughing and carrying on like they never stopped talking. when the conversation calms down a bit, jack asks davey if he'd like to come over.

"i'd love to, if your wife doesn't mind having a guest, of course."

"i... actually don't have a wife."

"oh-- oh, i'm sorry, i just assumed-"

"nah, it ain't nothin' to twist yourself up about. you know where i live, yeah? swing by 'round seven."

"sounds like a plan."

and that's how davey finds out that jack owns the land that his father's farm was on. the house, though, is different- and he soon realizes that jack has completely remodeled. the porch isn't rotting anymore, and the yard is green and trimmed, and the pond out in the back yard doesn't look god-awful anymore, much to davey's delight.

dinner goes off without a hitch. everything goes right, just like old times. they swap college stories. jack tells davey about inheriting the farm and making it his own (likely to scrub every piece of his father out of his life), while davey tells jack about the big city and how different it is being home. it's nice. comfortable. familiar.

jack and davey try to meet up as often as they can after that night, which is difficult considering their schedules, but they somehow make it work. they make it really work, in fact- they have dinner twice a week (usually with some old friends), they fish together (read: jack fishes while david sits on the back of his truck and talks to him), and they even go to rodeos and football games together (to look back on they're youth, of course).

one night, about a week before jack's 29th birthday, they meet up at the bar in town and spend hours drinking beer and whiskey and talking about life. once they make it back to jack's house, they continue talking on the couch, but talking turns into cuddling ("just for old time's sake") and cuddling turns into confessions ("i only dated those girls because i thought it would help me get over you") and confessions turn into tears ("when he found out, he kicked me out of the house") and tears turn into promises ("i loved you then, jack, and i'll love you now") and promises turn into more.

eventually, more turns a knee on a ground and a ring on a hand. eventually, a ring on a hand turns into a wedding. eventually, a wedding turns into memories, years down the line, while sitting on an old porch swing and watching grandchildren play in the front lawn.

the end !!!!

#FUCK i love this #like. i love this #i had so much fun writing this #i love THEM!!!!#pls reblog i spent so much time on this #Newsies #Javid #david jacobs #davey jacobs #jack kelly #newsies musical #newsies broadway #livesies #jac writes #jac txt.

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stillness-in-green · 4 years

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The MLA(/PLF) Headcanon Post (1/2)

In response to this nice ask about whether I have any headcanon or thoughts about the current members of the MLA/PLF, I spent two weeks blithering 16.5K words of exactly that into a Word file, because when it comes to underappreciated characters I love, I do not understand restraint. This post and its follow-up will cover all ranked ex-MLA members of the PLF, as well as Original Flavor Destro and Curious, since I wasn't going to leave them out of a project like this even if they aren't "current."

The ask only mentioned having previously read The Lore Post, the last exercise in ridiculousness that I wrote at the tail end of MLA Week, so I wrote this to summarize everything that doesn't appear there—which is to say that a lot of the material in these two posts will look familiar to anyone who's read my fanfic about the MLA cast. There’s still plenty of new material to go around too, though!

So, I don't have much in the vein of askblog-style headcanons where I can randomly tell you stray trivia about a character’s favorite foods or their love languages or what have you; that stuff either comes up when I'm writing fanfic or it doesn't. That said, below, please find a mix of thoughts I keep in mind when writing characters, facts that have only turned up in my fanfic/notes so far and not the Lore Post meta, and a selection of lightning round headcanon provided by cross-referencing a random number generator with some old questionnaires I keep around for OCs and tabletop characters.

In this post: Destro, Re-Destro and his advisors, and Geten.

Destro—

General Thoughts The whole "revolutionary leader" thing came very naturally to him. He was committed, charismatic, very willing to risk his life and safety for the cause, and he cared about his people. All that said, he absolutely had a pompous, prideful streak, especially where it came to his justification for terrorism. You only have to read his own words to see that. Still, he was in large part reacting to the world he lived in, one of greater violence and danger than the current day.

I like to think that—because he was genuine in wanting freedom for all—he would not approve of what became of his Army. He'd be able to see how they got there, and he would probably have made much the same choices if he'd been there with them, but while he would have agreed that his role should be remembered—that's just Due Credit—he would never have wanted to become the nigh-on religious figure his followers turned him into. Continuing to fight the good fight for his ideals is one thing, but secret salutes and isolated villages and being raised from infancy to know your life has only as much worth as it can contribute to Liberation… Well, it's just not what he would have wanted for his people, much less his descendants.

Family Situation Chikara was only around 7 when his mother was killed, the event that would shape the rest of his life. He wasn't hiding in the closet from the mob, either; he was kicking and punching and biting, his motivation to save her overflowing—but he was still only 7, and eventually overwhelmed. His own life might well have ended there with hers, but for a group of neighborhood vigilante types (at least one of whom probably went on to a career as a hero, after legalization).

He went most of his adolescence without getting involved with anything more sinister than student newspapers, founding a secret meta-rights "club," and attending the odd larger protest, but when the government started talking about passing laws restricting the use of meta-abilities, he started getting very radical very quickly, and when some absolute snake started to use his martyred mother's words to bang the drum for banning quirk use outside the home outright, he went off the deep end.

Lightning Round (Randomly Selected Headcanons)

Favorite book genre? Memoirs and biographies—he wouldn't have written his own if he didn't appreciate their value. The intimacy of the personal juxtaposed against the broad scope of history appeals to both his regard for individuality and his revolutionary mindset.

Most prized possession? Thoughts on material possessions in general? He doesn’t generally prize material possessions—in fact, he’s something of a skinflint. His most prized possession is an old pair of gloves that belonged to his mother, which he'd been wearing at the time of her murder. He didn't come from money to begin with, but his mother’s story made enough of a splash that his financial situation was improved by well-meaning sorts sending along donations and contributions and the like, as well as government officials knowing they needed to be sure that he wound up somewhere at least semi-reasonable lest they court further outrage by mishandling the son of a martyred woman. The money all went towards school and living expenses, though, leaving him quite experienced at balancing a budget, which would come in handy for that whole ‘leading a violent uprising against the state’ thing later on.

Academic Background: Got all the way through college! Was involved in student groups as far back as middle school, and only got moreso the further in school he got. Majored in Human Development; he was intending to go into the public health and policy sphere before the appropriation of his mother's language pissed him off so much he got into terrorism instead.

THE MODERN MLA

Re-Destro—

General Thoughts A huge amount of the way I write him is influenced by one single thing—his characterization as described in the second data book. His personality is summed up there as "sokoshirenai yami"—bottomless darkness, or, as a friend translated it for me, "unfathomable gloominess." That really, really stuck with me, because on the one hand, it's so opposed to virtually all of what we see of him on the page, where he's being cheerful or scornful or sycophantic; the closest he ever gets are his brief tears for Miyashita, Curious, and his other followers.

On the other hand, it makes so much sense that the man we see—the man who talks about the heavy burdens of his legacy, who was handed that legacy when he couldn't possibly have been any older than 6 or so, who willingly straps on a self-designed torture device to wring out more power, who all but worships the ground Shigaraki walks on even though Shigaraki is the reason Re-Destro no longer has legs to walk that same ground with—should be "unfathomably gloomy." Of course he's gloomy! He was never allowed to be his own person! He has never in his life known true freedom, only existed as a vessel to bring that freedom to others! And he can't really even talk to his closest friends about it, because his closest friends are still his followers, and he wouldn't want to weigh them down!

With that context, it makes all the sense in the world that he'd be so devoted to the man who relieved him of that burden.

Family Situation He loved his mother Yukie a great deal, despite knowing from early on that he was carrying the weight of the title because she believed she couldn’t. (Perhaps growing up hearing about the martyrdom of Destro’s mother left him wanting to ensure the happiness of his own, for her happiness was very rare.) He was 10 when she was killed in a Villain attack; she’d been on a daytrip over to a neighboring city to visit some of her erstwhile school friends. The requisite mourning period was 49 days, and as the only surviving family member, quite a lot fell to him even before considerations of his role as Re-Destro. it was perceived as better—for both the Army’s morale and for his own stability—for him to be involved with as much of the work of transition as possible, but obviously he couldn’t do it completely alone, nor should he. Thus, for two months after Yukie’s death, the previous generation's Sanctum[i] stayed with him in his family home. Afterward, he moved in with Anchor (one of his grandfather's advisors), where he would spend the rest of his young adulthood until moving away for college.

Claustrophobia The name of that literal-iron-maiden deathtrap he brings to bear against Shigaraki is no coincidence: Rikiya developed claustrophobia over the course of a stint of abusive training when he was thirteen. He generally has a pretty good handle on disguising it, thanks to a combination of people being unwilling to ask him questions they don’t actually want the answers to and the fact that he had to learn how to operate through it in order to complete the training at all. He has never told anyone, largely because he’s never been able to recognize that it was abuse, and so his abuser remains a figure of some influence.

Education He was largely taught by private tutors, in his home and in theirs, rather than attending school, but I think he probably wasn't completely home-schooled. Particularly once he'd decided that he did want to attend university—and not just some little local technical program, but a major school in a proper city—he probably attended classes a few times a week at his local high school just to get a feel for being around other people his own age. He'd been friends with Koku for several years by that point, otherwise he probably would have been pretty hopeless, but he was still a pretty odd duck by the time he got to university.

This, incidentally, is why he never pushed Geten too hard about school—his own experience of it was so weird and piecemeal that he mostly thinks of school as relevant only for the education it provides, and less so the crash course in social dynamics. Since Geten doesn't care about getting an education (nor, indeed, about learning how not to be a rude little troll), and has a strong enough quirk that he'll never lack for a position in the Army even without a formal education, Rikiya is perfectly happy to let Geten have his way and just be minimally learnèd.

Stress His powers operate by infusing his body with the characteristic black matter of his manifested stress; he can increase his size with this (his so-called Liberated Form isn't just armored up; he becomes physically taller and bulkier), as well as throw handfuls of the materialized power. A side effect of this is that his stress can also infuse itself into his bodily fluids. The stress matter is a highly dense particulate, so if Rikiya is not in proper control of himself, his proverbial blood, sweat and tears can be literally heavy with the weight of his power.

The Value of Life He cares very much about the lives of his followers, but those genuine feelings are filtered through both the mental compartmentalization required by an emotion-based quirk, and an upbringing that taught him to care about his underlings in the same way one would rare goods. Valuable goods, certainly, goods worth being proud of, goods to be maintained with care, but still, ultimately, things that can be sold or traded or bartered off as necessary to further one's goals. Even his own life, while "objectively" the most valuable of them all, isn't an exception to that policy—the Great Cause is more important than any individual life, up to and including his own.

On a Personal Note He’s something of an obvious weirdo to outsiders—his enthusiasm comes off as strident, his smiles overly polished—but despite that, he's bizarrely hard to dislike once they start spending real time with him. He's not anywhere near as prideful about himself as he is the legacy of the MLA, for a start; he's actually pretty self-deprecating when he's not performing the whole Heir of Destro's Great Bloodline routine at people. He's also happy to go along with other people sharing their hobbies (because he doesn't have any of his own). The more you get to know him, the more obvious it becomes that he's a total basket case, but “total basket case” is still an improvement over “self-absorbed 1%-er CEO” that people like Spinner come in expecting.

What Are Boundaries? He has very little understanding of how to enforce boundaries around his private life, or, indeed, of why such boundaries might ever be necessary. Oh, he can do the double life thing, keep the CEO of Detnerat separate from the Grand Commander of the Metahuman Liberation Army, but when it comes to the MLA itself, he's so groomed to devote himself to the cause that he doesn't really distinguish between the responsibilities of Re-Destro and the needs of Yotsubashi Rikiya. Rather than being the egomaniac you might expect of a man with the absolute power over others he has, he instead struggles to assert himself as his own person at all.

Issues with boundaries are not uncommon with the MLA—they're all raised to see themselves as warriors to advance the cause before they are, like, “human beings”—but Rikiya’s are particularly exacerbated because he was raised by adults who were getting pretty paranoid about his bloodline's tendency to die young, and thus were always checking in on how he was doing, dictating his schedule, weighing in on his plans, and so on. He just wasn’t raised with reasonable expectations for privacy. Even as an adult, he'll give his apartment door code to pretty much anyone in the MLA who has even a semi-plausible reason to want it—certainly quite a few of the elders know it! And it isn’t only the elders, either; Rikiya's phone and several of his accessories carry tracking chips courtesy of Skeptic, which Rikiya knows about and doesn't think is at all untoward.

While his experience dating Koku definitely taught him some hard lessons about how much he could allow himself to ask of people who would obey him without question (they broke up over Rikiya’s realization that Koku would never deny him anything, thanks to a cracked rib Koku didn’t see fit to tell Rikiya about until Rikiya hugged him a little too hard), he never learned how to value his own autonomy in turn. Oh, he's the Grand Commander, and everyone around him has been raised to venerate his bloodline, so most of them would never even think about trying to take advantage of him as such, but it's absolutely the case that people who are bold or familiar enough to try can basically run right over him with minimal efforts made at obscuring the fact. His life is full of people who do and have done exactly that, some to a net positive effect, and some—well. See again the entry about his claustrophobia.

The abjectly terrible state of his sense of self-worth is also the reason the Claustro exists. While he was relatively capable of trying to work around his phobia when he was younger, the older he got, the more it started to feel like leaving doors cracked behind him or only working in offices with big spacious floor plans and oversized windows was, in some way, Letting Down The Cause by allowing his fear to control him, rather than embracing it so he could properly stockpile it for later use. A dinnertime chat with Curious about turning one’s trauma into a weapon for the good of others catalyzed this, leading to the development of the “burden-enhancing steel pressure mechanism,” Claustro.

(It also means the clone of him made by Twice to handle Detnerat after Deika is bizarrely okay with its circumstances, which I will almost certainly write more about one of these days, but I’m still kind of reeling from that reveal, so more on that another time.)

Lightning Round

Religion? He doesn't identify as being of a religious faith, but he was brought up in the same peaceful marriage of Shinto and Buddhism that the majority of Japanese people are, and like many, he adheres to a number of traditional practices more out of habit than devout faith. There are two celebrations that demand significant emotional investment from him. First comes the New Year's celebrations, important because the MLA prides itself on looking to a brighter, freer future, and it's a period when he can let himself think that maybe he'll be just that little bit closer to Liberation by the end of the year than he was at the start. Second is Obon, a summer festival for honoring one's departed ancestors. Since his authority and his life's work derive entirely from his bloodline, he's obligated to care about this one, though in practice, he tends to shy away from thinking much about Destro (who he has very twisted-up feelings about indeed) in favor of less emotionally fraught waters.

What did he dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true? He never really had a significant period where he thought about being e.g. an astronaut or a doctor or a hero; in fact, it came as something of a surprise to him the first time Koku asked him what he was planning to do when he grew up. He always just had the nebulous expectation of, "Be the Grand Commander," and the elders were happy to leave it at that until he brought it up on his own.[ii]

How does he behave around children? He likes kids! He’s wistful about the freedom enjoyed by happy children while also being sympathetic to ones that seem overly burdened. He’s not the most natural person in the world with them, but most of them can tell that the awkwardness comes from a well-intentioned place, and will treat him as a funny-looking man who’ll let them bother him at length without getting mean. It turns out he’s actually pretty good with them, then, if only by virtue of being easily bullied. (This, notably, goes for non-MLA-affiliated children. Everything’s much more formal within the cult, though it didn’t Geten long to suss out the “easily-bullied” part, either.)

Trumpet—

General Thoughts The largest factor in how I write Koku is, of course, the headcanon that he and Rikiya are ex-lovers, and neither of them is 100% over it even all these years later. Beyond that, though, Koku is the most temperate of the group, the one with the most easy charisma (MLA members are more swayed by Re-Destro, but Koku does better with outsiders who aren't predisposed to hanging on Rikiya's every word). He strives to come off as The Sensible One, and given the extremes the rest of the inner circle are capable of, it's not hard for him to maintain that title. He's as messed up as any of them, though, second only to Rikiya in levels of childhood grooming. He thinks of himself as a practical man, but he is deeply indoctrinated, the boundaries of his expectations very much defined by his upbringing, so he never really sees it coming when he gets clobbered by something from out of left field.

Family Situation: Koku has the largest family of the identified members. Aside from his grandfather (called Old Man Hanabata, the founder of the Hearts & Minds Party, and passed away by the canon era), Koku has cousins, nieces, nephews and more, courtesy of his uncle, his older sister and her husband, and other extended family.

He’s also the member most accustomed to wealth, power and influence. He's from a rural area, certainly, but being in a family of hereditary politicians (and with that family not suffering a string of untimely deaths and disappearances like Rikiya's did), he was raised from the start with ready access to money and nice things. Still, for all his family's sway in a major branch of the MLA's operations, they're not First Families, and thus don't have any elders in their ranks, making them still somewhat subordinate to said elders when it comes to orders about the Great Cause. (He’s working on it.)

Meeting Re-Destro Koku and Rikiya met at 12 and 10 respectively, when Koku tagged along with Old Man Hanabata for a meeting RD was likewise accompanying Anchor for. It had been the better part of a year since Rikiya's mother passed away, but he was still strikingly melancholy for a boy that age, which—along with all the weight given to the importance of the meeting—left quite an impression on Koku. Koku thus became Rikiya's first real friend in his own age group, a friendship heartily encouraged by everyone around them. Koku was well-behaved, intelligent, a little older but not too much so, and set to become influential without a danger of becoming too influential; he was seen as a good choice for a friend.[iii]

The Break-Up Painful as it was at the time, there was a silver lining to his and RD's post-college break-up: it got Koku out of the elders' pocket. He’s been groomed for one thing or another all his life, but after he became friends with Rikiya, he was always getting leaned on to report back to the First Families about how Re-Destro was doing, and to try to influence him towards actions the First Families approved of. In a very real sense, Koku was part of the apparatus keeping Rikiya from any real freedom. Their break-up and subsequent estrangement meant that the elders had far less to breathe down Koku's neck about, and by the time they reconciled, Trumpet had gotten his feet under him, as had Re-Destro, and they were both better able to fend off such background meddling.

This doesn't mean Trumpet's not still carrying a torch, however. He thought he was handling his long-banked feelings pretty well—being Professional, being the advisor Re-Destro needed and as much a friend as Rikiya would allow—right up until Rikiya scared the life out of him by nearly dying in Deika. He's all but glued himself to Rikiya since, as much as he can get away with given their respective responsibilities.

As an Advisor Other than leading the HMP, he does some work with internal politics and reputation. It's not, strictly speaking, his actual job as advisor—Re-Destro or the elders would probably be sought for more formal or critical mediations—but he and the people who report directly to him do enough travelling around to see constituents that they're often in a position to field those tensions before they get big enough to require attention from higher up. Koku's happy to do so, in fact—not because he just loves handling petty arguments about resources, but because the HMP is a faction of the MLA in and of itself, and mediating is a boost to that faction's standing and autonomy. (Also, it's that much less on Rikiya's ever-overburdened plate.)

Lightning Round

What would he do if he needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?Ahahahahaha, “make dinner but the kitchen was busy,” please. Any time there could feasibly be someone else occupying a kitchen he has any business being in himself, it would be a housekeeper, and s/he would be making food for him/his family. It’s not as though Trumpet has never cooked—he did live alone for some years after school—but outside of a scant few years in university, there’s never really been a time that kitchen use overlap would have been a problem for him.

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging. Probably gourmet cuisine, especially imported stuff. He’s had tailored clothes all his life; they’re just part of the job. Expensive alcohol also doesn’t wow him; it wouldn’t be strange to find some sake maker whose family has been doing it for sixteen generations in the village he grew up in. It’s a lot harder to cultivate a true gourmand’s palate out in the sticks, though, no matter how rich your family is. Living in actual civilization affords a great deal more variety—and anyway, nice dinners are one of the few things he can reliably tempt Rikiya into accepting. As to his feelings about indulging in general, he’s broadly For It. He works very hard, he seldom gets real time off, and it doesn’t help the Great Cause for him to deny himself nice things, unlike some people. (He’s maybe a bit bitter.)

Does he like to be the center of attention all of the time? Not especially. Oh, he’s very good at it, certainly, and he doesn’t dislike it, but being the center of attention is practically always going to be tied up in The Great Work, so he desperately needs to get out of the spotlight from time to time, if only to be able to turn off the persona.

Curious—

General Thoughts There are two main factors in how I write Chitose: her practicality and her rapaciousness. I write her as having an appreciation for good moral character in other people, especially when it makes a good story, but not considering herself particularly bound by conventional morality: her moral compass is Liberation, and she follows it unswervingly. I also write her as predatory, lusty about a lot of things, often to the point of overstepping. It doesn't hurt anyone that she likes hearty foods and strong alcohol, but she also doesn't have much regard for peoples' boundaries, and even less so when she thinks they have something to offer the Great Cause.

While that trait isn't without its benefits, it can get pretty ugly, too, as we see in how she treats, and talks to, Toga. Even with Rikiya, the only person she thinks of as 'above' her in any meaningful sense, she's not at all above manipulation. She's respectful of him, but knows him too well to always take him at his word. He plainly can't always see what's best for him, but what's best for him is best for Liberation, and therefore, as a Liberation warrior, it's her responsibility to sometimes make decisions for him. He'll appreciate it in the long run—he always does. (Skeptic and Geten have similar views—Rikiya makes it easy.)

Family Situation She probably has the best actual relationship with her family of the group—her mothers are removed enough from the heart of MLA politics that her relationship with Rikiya doesn't color her family life the way Koku's does his, and she's much more sociable than Skeptic or Geten. She doesn't get home much—just the major holidays, work permitting—but she's in frequent enough communication for a grown woman, and chats with her younger sister more often than that.

Meeting Re-Destro She met Rikiya properly when they were 21 and 27 respectively. They were living in the same city at the time (him running Detnerat, her in university), so of course she'd seen him at the odd MLA event he turned up at, but when she landed an internship in her junior year, she cheekily turned up one day in her reporter capacity to interview him as “a local rising star of industry.” It was the first chance they'd had to talk one-on-one, and would not be the last, as she frankly elbowed her way into his life and gradually sussed out that here was a man with Problems. He and Koku were still in a distant patch at the time; she is largely responsible for getting them back on friendly terms as a way of showing her Pure Intentions.

The fact that her Pure Intentions both land her a square position as one of RD's advisors herself and get Rikiya to a better place emotionally is calculated, but not, therefore, untrue. Ironically, while she was concerned about looking like a gold-digger, the MLA elders were probably thrilled and relieved to hear rumors that Rikiya was getting romantically involved again. And with a lovely young MLA woman! They wouldn't even need to worry about surrogacy arrangements! (Not having grown up around the Yotsubashis, Chitose is unaware of exactly how pointed an interest the elders take in the matter of securing that bloodline.)

Feelings Today She loves Rikiya dearly, and prizes his regard more highly than anything in her life, but has not devoted much thought to the idea of being in love with him. She's married to her work, as they say, but she's also keenly aware that Rikiya would, for a great many reasons, be a lot of work to be in love with. She's decided it's generally better for his mental well-being, and therefore also better for the Great Cause (she’s much more capable of reading that relationship reciprocally than Rikiya is), to make sure he's eating at least one good meal a week and getting some proper socialization in outside of MLA meet-and-greets.

As an Advisor She handles external politics and reputation--it's her job to prime Japan culturally for the Liberation agenda in ways more wide-reaching than Trumpet (he's head of a political party, and that's not nothing, but that party is still a small minority on the floor of the Diet). She pulls attention to stories that benefit the MLA, and diverts attention from stories that don't. This is far broader than just publishing Destro's memoir; it also means poking holes in the broader Hero Society narrative. She does this by providing as broad a platform possible for stories about the tragedies of excessive regulation, the evils of quirk-related bias, the abuses of power heroes are capable of, and so on.

Lightning Round

Does she remember names or faces easier? She’s quite good with both, actually, but I’d give names the advantage because she works primarily with written rather than visual mediums. (Also, BNHA names being the ridiculous puns that they are, you can probably tell more about a person in HeroAca Land by analyzing their name than their face anyway.)

Is she more concerned with defending her honor, or protecting her status? Her status, absolutely. Impugning her honor hurts no one but her; she can laugh that off because honor is a silly social construct anyway. Threatening her status is a much more dangerous prospect—her status is long-cultivated to enable the advancement of Liberation ideology; it lets her keep an eye on Re-Destro, who needs as many people looking out for him as he can get; it’s what she’s worked for all her life. Curious will fuck you up if you threaten her status.

In what situation was she the most afraid she’d ever been? The time she got in trouble for nearly exploding some dude’s face off for stealing her purse. She was 17, had spent very little time in non-Liberated territory before, and was not raised to wait on heroes to solve her problems. She wasn’t afraid of the thief or the hero, really, but she was completely terrified that she might have just blown over half a century of secrecy by not performing Helpless Civilian well enough. The terror was pretty convincing to the police interviewing her about it, anyway. On the whole, it was a very valuable learning experience!

Skeptic—

General Thoughts Tomoyasu is a character I haven't written extensively yet, but what I think is most interesting about him so far is the contrast of his hyper-modern methods with the bone-deep zealotry for the cause. See, Rikiya, Koku and Chitose all grew up in the sticks; Rikiya and Koku had money from a young age, but it was old money, tied up in trusts. (Geten didn't have any of those, but Geten's a different story for other reasons.) Tomoyasu grew up in a major city from the start; he was a technological prodigy from practically as soon as he could hold a tablet. He has very little respect for the old ways of doing things when he knows there are newer, better ways of advancing the Cause. However, none of that makes him more likely to break from the MLA's ranks—if anything, his idiosyncratic approach just causes him to approach Liberation in really weird ways, ways no one else would ever come up with.

Pressganging Bubaigawara Jin based on a plan to clone Re-Destro? Who else would that ever even occur to, much less such that it became the basis for an elaborate psychological assault? But that's Skeptic in a nutshell—respect the old for what it did at the time, but don't think that means you have to use the same methods they did forever as you pick up the torch to carry it forward.

Family Situation He has an amicable but not intimate relationship with his family. His parents are very proud of what he's done for the cause and how he won the confidence of Re-Destro, but they don't make much claim to understand how his mind works. In turn, he recognizes the value of their support over the years—he certainly made a lot of waves with his unabashed venom for the MLA leadership's hidebound traditionalism, and his parents' staunch backing meant a lot for him being able to take the stands he did—but is not very emotionally close with them. Might find himself with an older brother, if I ever occasion to write about his family situation in more depth.

Education He graduated a four-year university program for getting his computer science degree in two very intense years, during which he did virtually nothing for the Great Cause, his intention being to better position himself for maximum ability to advance Liberation afterward. See above re: battles his parents fought for him while he was busy modernizing.

Meeting Re-Destro He met Re-Destro via Curious. He was 22, just a year out of university and already climbing the chain of command at a young telecommunications company. Rikiya was 33, working on the Claustro, and needed proprietary comms built to a higher standard of security than Detnerat was focused on. Curious, who was always better positioned to be keeping up with the local personalities, introduced them.

Tomoyasu attempted to keep a civil tongue in his head the first few times he and RD met, but he'd been running on bile and energy drinks for years by that point and was hard-pressed to stop just because he was meeting his Grand Commander. If anything, finding out that Rikiya was okay with his direction and his mouth eventually helped him chill the fuck out, marginally.

On that note, Skeptic is absolutely the advisor most willing to backtalk Rikiya right to his face. (Rikiya loves him for it.) Oh, he'll still accede to Rikiya's wishes, and Re-Destro's orders are his highest priority, but that doesn't mean he feels obligated to be diffident about it. Like Curious, he has a highly developed sense of, "It's fine if it's for the greater good," which will and has led to him taking things into his own hands when he thinks he knows best (which is always). He's not going to explicitly disobey orders, but he will creatively interpret them if he feels strongly about them, and he will try to "anticipate" orders before anyone has time to give him specific ones, the better to tailor his efforts towards proving his methods and goals correct rather than being stuck with orders he hates.

On Names I’ve definitely evolved some in my approach on this since I started writing the MLA cast, but at current, Skeptic and Geten are the only ones I consistently write as using and thinking mainly in terms of code names rather than given names. Trumpet is too familiar with the public/private divide, and has too much intimate history with Rikya-the-person, to default to Re-Destro; Curious is too trained to look for The Human Heart of the Story. Re-Destro himself, ever since breaking up with Koku, has always tried to use code names for people (himself excluded, because he has enormous self-confidence issues about measuring himself up to the original Destro), but can slip into given names when he’s vulnerable. To Skeptic and Geten, though, the code name is the real name, for all intents and purposes. The cover identity is a fake; the whole point of the code name is that you’re proving yourself worthy of taking up your proper place in the Army. Of course the name you win for yourself is the name that counts.

Lightning Round

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? You’d pretty much have to lock him in a room with nothing but paper and pencil in it for that to be his first resort rather than whatever item of personal electronics he’d otherwise have on his person. But assuming some actual plausible scenario—couldn’t bring his electronics into a government building, let’s say—he would find trying to do something productive on paper and pencil rather beneath him, and he’s an inveterate fidgeter. I mostly see him folding that ludicrously tall frame of his into a chair and setting to using the pencil to poke about three hundred holes in the sheet of paper, meticulous and orderly, while muttering complaints to himself the whole time until something annoys him a bit too much and he jabs the whole pencil through the page.

Who does he see as his best friend? His worst enemy? I headcanon him having a very reasonable, functional, productive relationship with his No. 1 advisor, Red, and being reasonable, functional, and productive probably goes a lot farther on making you Skeptic’s “friend” than any amount of emotional intimacy. But “best friend” is not really the kind of language Skeptic uses for his relationships; if you were to ask him who his best friend is, he’d probably tell you, “Iced coffee.” As to his worst enemy, that’s just whoever is annoying him most on any given day, from difficult clients, to people annoying Re-Destro, stodgy elders, that hero grinning like a tool, that couple walking too slow in front of him on the sidewalk, etc. And Skeptic is pretty proactive about dealing with enemies, as much as he can be.

Has he ever been bitten by an animal? How was he affected (or unaffected)? lol he is a city boy and always has been. He probably tried to pet a stray cat once out of curiosity, and because it seemed like the sort of thing people did, and then has never forgiven Animals In General when it bit him and then ran off.

Geten—

General Thoughts Another one I haven’t written a great deal about yet, particularly in the present day, though I’m looking for that to change soonish. One thing I’d like to explore is Geten when he’s not seething with rage and shame because he failed to bring Re-Destro a victory in Deika. The fandom tends to write Geten as an always-angry attack dog barely contained beneath a chilly veneer, and that’s fair—ever since we got the face reveal, ever since the MLA’s defeat at Shigaraki’s hands, Geten has been an always-angry attack dog barely contained beneath a chilly veneer.

But if you look at Geten from before we knew what was under the hood, you find a different story. “Chilly and angry all the time” is not at all how he acted when he was fighting Dabi! At that point, he was talkative, even chatty. He engaged in a lot of snide smack-talk; he was obviously confident in himself and he spoke very proudly of the MLA as a collective.

He was still quiet at the dinner he attended with Rikiya and his advisors, yes, so I don’t think Geten’s done some kind of full 180 on characterization. I do, however, think that Geten has a sense of humor in there, has a sense of camaraderie with the MLA rooted in more than just his relationship with Re-Destro, even if Re-Destro is obviously his most important person. I don’t know if we’ll ever see that in the manga proper, given everything that’s happened, but it’s worth remembering in terms of what Geten is like when he’s solely among allies.

Family Situation Orphaned at a young age, and a problem child from then on. He passed through a series of foster parents and state facilities before eventually crossing paths with the leader of the local MLA branch in Kesseru, Beacon (more on him next time). This encounter would lead to him being sent to a group home with a reputation for being good with such difficult cases, giving them Structure and Companionship and Meaningful Work. (Spoilers: It’s Liberation.)

Despite evening out considerably after a significant meeting with Re-Destro when he was 7[iv], Geten never got particularly close to his adopted family/the other kids at the group home. He's very favored by the Grand Commander, for one thing, and he has the strongest quirk in the home for another—and since he learned the quirk supremacist stuff from them, that’s a pretty significant part of the dynamic! Both of these factors mean there's some distance between him and the rest. Still, he's not on bad terms with them—indeed, his foster parents are quite proud of him—and he would probably tear out someone's throat with his teeth for threatening them, if only as a matter of pride.

There are 4-6 other kids there at any given time; for the bulk of his young adulthood, there were two older than him, the others younger. He doesn't have much time for Big Brother Pastimes, but is not completely immune to them, either, particularly where the youngest kids are concerned. His tolerance for Little Brother Antics, however, is nonexistent—if the older kids think they can ruffle his hair and treat him like a kid, they can square the fuck up; he is Number One around here and don’t forget it.

Education Geten never went to school, but he's not completely uneducated. He had some tutoring in the group home, some more from Re-Destro personally, and has a pile of books he keeps at his bedside, mostly strategic in nature. He finds them vexing at times, but is slowly reading through them anyway because Re-Destro asked him to. He’s been a bit more diligent about it since he was made a regiment leader, because lord knows Dabi isn't contributing much.

On Re-Destro Re-Destro became fond of Geten for the same reason he became fond of Skeptic and Curious—Geten was willing to push back. He really did make some attempts early on to keep Geten at a proper distance, mindful of anything that would look too much like favoritism. And Geten knew, in the hard-headed way of a child, that Re-Destro was being a grown-up about things, trying to be mature, trying to be impartial. Geten just didn’t care about any of those things. Every time, he would listen very seriously to the things Rikiya told him, nod attentively, repeat back what he’d been told, and then go on about doing his own thing anyway. And his own thing was, typically, to keep coming back.

Of course, if there’s anything we can tell about Re-Destro from the way he treats Shigaraki, it’s that Re-Destro loves people who take the choice away from him.

Eventually, of course, Geten grew up (mostly; I peg him at 19 now), joined the MLA officially, and had to settle into the structure of the Army. It began to lead to trouble for Re-Destro, when Geten blatantly disobeyed him; it stopped being cute. Still, the sense that he Knows What’s Best lingers, so Geten works himself very, very hard to be everything Re-Destro needs him to be and more, so that maybe Re-Destro’s burden will be just that little bit lighter.

On Quirk Supremacy (and Re-Destro, still) Here’s the thing about Geten and the whole, “A life without a strong meta-ability has no value,” line, and this continues to drive me mad because of how people getting it wrong influences the bad takes on the MLA in this fandom: Geten is not a reliable witness. He is not one of the leaders of the MLA, nor does he speak for its rank and file. Even if you assume the absolute worst about his implications there, far worse than is justified by the text, Geten’s very name, Apocrypha, means that he cannot be presumed to be aligned with MLA orthodoxy.

The only one of the people close to Re-Destro who wasn't born and raised MLA, he still manages to come off, in some ways, as the most zealous of the lot of them. But really, it’s very noticeable that Geten—unlike Re-Destro himself, and unlike even Re-Destro’s close cohort—never talks about the original Destro, never even mentions him. When he thinks about his leader, he only ever thinks about Rikiya. Geten doesn’t follow Re-Destro because of his bloodline, because of the tenets; he follows Re-Destro because of personal loyalty.[v]

So how best to do that? Well, think about it: Geten is not terribly intelligent, nor wealthy, nor well-connected. He and Trumpet are the ones most influenced by the quirk supremacist line of thought, Trumpet because his relatively weak quirk comes off as exponentially stronger the more he can surround himself in people it works on, and Geten because his strong quirk lets him mentally justify Re-Destro's investment in him despite his other insufficiencies.

Compare this with Re-Destro, who only ever talks about quirks in terms of freedom. Even more prominently, look at Skeptic and Curious, who are not at all defined by their quirks and how strong or weak said quirks may be. Indeed, those two devote scarcely a thought to the matter because they contribute to the cause in much more important ways and seem to be perfectly comfortable with where that leaves them.

Geten may not be very smart or influential, but he’s very capable of looking at what strengths he does have and focusing hard on those. That, I think, is what really lead to his embracing quirk supremacy, even in the face of evidence that he doesn’t have the whole picture: the search for a way to measure himself up to the movers and shakers Rikiya is otherwise surrounded with, and not come up drastically wanting.

“Apocrypha” Geten has been Geten for a long time, since long before the MLA types usually take up their code names. He’s also an outlier in the MLA for having a name in Japanese instead of in English—the only one who does! My headcanon, unless and until we get some other members with Japanese code names, is that he got the name directly from Re-Destro—possibly even in the conversation that lead to him imprinting so hard on the man when he was 7—and insisted on keeping it before any other code name that was suggested to him in later years.

But yes, he does have a normal Japanese name on file at the group home, which he’s obligated to answer to on the rare occasions that someone from Child Services is checking in or he and Re-Destro are out in public. I don’t plan to bother coming up with it unless I need to, as I expect we’ll get it in a character profile one of these days.

His Quirk While a lot of people like the vibe of Geten and Dabi being somewhat equivalently vulnerable to their own quirks, and I agree it makes for good fanart, in truth, Geten is only as vulnerable to his ice as Endeavor is his flames. Which is to say, he isn't immune, but he's certainly more resistant to it than the average person would be! There’s already plenty of good material to contrast Dabi and Geten without pretending their quirks are more mirrored than is actually the case.

Lightning Round

How does he treat people in service jobs? He doesn’t, because he’s never in a position to interact with people in service jobs. There have been times he’s gone out with Re-Destro, but in those cases he’s mostly let Re-Destro handle the human interaction.

What does he dislike in other people? Laziness; the lack of a higher purpose of some kind. (It’s possible he’d thaw out on his disdain for Dabi considerably if he knew more about Dabi’s plans to undermine the whole of the Hero System than Dabi is inclined to tell him.)

Is he always there for a friend in need? Sure, as long as by “friend” you mean “fellow Liberation warrior” and by “need” you mean “in need of an icicle punched through one of someone else’s desperately fleshy body parts.”

Footnotes

[i] Sanctum II's tastes being what they are, this probably means Rikiya is the MLA member most likely to be able to perform traditional Japanese tea ceremony.

[ii] And there were elders who would have been happy to leave it at that permanently, I'm sure. There are always going to be those regents who have trouble relinquishing power back to the boy prince when he grows up and becomes king, you know?

[iii] And, when it eventually got out that they were dating, a relatively solid match, give or take the surrogacy arrangements that would eventually need to be made.

[iv] I’m hoping canon gives us some details on this eventually, so I’m not planning to iron out more headcanon on the matter unless I absolutely have to.

[v] This, incidentally, is a large part of why Rikiya does keep him around—it’s soothing to have someone around who never brings up his ancestor. Anyway, after Geten evolved his quirk, people stopped complaining so much, even though RD never did get around to, like, giving Geten any formal responsibilities. Geten, who knows very well that Re-Destro’s real advisors have real jobs, mostly took this as reason to be all the stronger, in hopes that he’d eventually be given one.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #yotsubashi chikara #yotsubashi rikiya #hanabata koku #kizuki chitose #chikazoku tomoyasu #geten #destro bnha #re-destro #trumpet bnha #curious bnha #skeptic bnha #meta liberation army #my writing

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enchanted--realm · 3 years

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When Calls the Heart Live Rambles

Season finale, s8 ep12 The Kiss

So this was such an awful finale. Everything leading to this moment made absolutely no sense. Before we get into the whole thing, let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start *sing like Julie Andrews*

Noooo, Henry is leaving!!! I kinda suspected this already, but I didn't want it to actually happen. Man, when Abigail left she really dragged everyone else with her: Cody and now Henry *le sigh*

Clara running to Jesse when he arrived was so sweet.

I wish Faith were leaving instead of Carson.

I absolutely love Rosemary and her newspaper business. And finally Elizabeth apologized. Goodness.

Now the triangle. I need to do this very calmly or else I will explode.

When Elizabeth spoke to Nathan saying she was just trying to replace Jack with him, that she loves him but isnt IN LOVE with him. Yo I just about fell out of my seat. I was so scared. That was the first time I ever doubted she wouldnt be with Nathan. But then the whole scene at the saloon between Nathan and Lucas made me think Lucas is still hesitant about Elizabeth's feelings, so maybe this love triangle isnt over yet.

Then when she opened that package where her book was and it read A Single Mother...that's when I was like. Oh my gosh she chooses no one. She chooses Baby Jack Jack and the 'the kiss' actually DOES refer to a kiss on the cheek. I thought my awful joke that I posted earlier was coming true. But then I suspected, okay, there's no way she's picking Lucas. If she doesn't feel in love with Nathan yet, then she will later in s9.

Then, the minutes kept passing by. Its 9:50pm and I'm thinking to myself 'wait a minute. Is this enough time to resolve things with Nathan?' And then I got really scared. More minutes passed and she hadn't broken things off for good with Lucas. I could only start to think that there is only time left in the episode for a conversation with Lucas and that's it.

When Elizabeth was at the school house and Robert brought little Jack with him. I was like, 'omg my theory is coming true. It is a kiss on the cheek to Jack Jack because she chooses him and to be a single mom,' then later she can choose Nathan without a love triangle plot.'

Next...

The last few minutes of the episode. She's looking for Lucas and looking very much in distress and I'm super confused at this point and also scared and slightly in denial. 'She can't be choosing Lucas?' And then I realize what the writers are doing. 'Ohmygosh she's choosing Lucas' and then I watch the rest of the episode in horror and I'm covering my eyes because I can't watch that kiss and then ew ew ew so MANY kisses yuck.

Elizabeth choosing Lucas doesn't make any sense storytelling wise, regardless of any bias I have towards Nathan. There was so much build up for Elizabeth and Nathan's relationship. A solid foundation had been built between them, something that a real relationship could grow from and become love. Whenever Lucas and Elizabeth had scenes it was so surface level. They had some connection through her writing career but even that wasnt very deep. Everything else in their relationship, the fancy dinners and romantic dates, that's really all they were. It was all just romance and the feelings of love without having any true depth of feeling. And not once did Lucas or Elizabeth ever mention the word love with each other.

And what about ep2 of this season when Nathan confessed his love to Elizabeth and she ran away because she was scared? It showed how she was running from her feelings and living in fear and when she ran away to pursue Lucas afterwards, it showed how Lucas was only a crutch for her and a comfortable relationship rather than something true and real. Because news flash, loving someone is actually being vulnerable and taking a leap of faith which she would have been doing if she were with Nathan, not with Lucas. She isn't taking any risk by opening her heart to Lucas. There isnt any vulnerability in their relationship on Elizabeth's part there.

And what about the Emerson quote, about doing what you're afraid to do. And what about Nathan's cringey parallel with Carson 'I'm not giving up', and what about Allie's feelings in all this and her wanting Elizabeth as a mother, and what about the ep with Ned and Florence's wedding when Elizabeth starts to take her own advice about not living in fear and that we can't let fear stop us from missing out on life's greatest joys? I'm sure there's lots more too that I'm missing here but that's what I could think of just at the top of my head.

Also, Nathan was saved that day he didnt go on the mission at Fort Clay. He was saved for a reason and now for what? For a Lucas ending? They totally filmed two versions of the ending and then decided last minute who she should end up. It actually makes sense too because when she first talks to Lucas, what? She's gonna confess her love to Lucas in the middle of a crowded cafe? As if! She was gonna break up with him there. She really was there just to see Minnie. They had the scene interrupted so that it could sort of make sense with whichever ending they wanted to decide upon later.

I'm so annoyed with the writers. They obviously did this for shock value. There are so many tv shows that do this but an audience doesnt watch a show for shock, they watch it for the story. Just bc something is shocking doesnt make it good storytelling. Shock value is only good when it makes sense upon looking back. This does not. A good story can usually be predicted by the audience actually. From what I've seen on social media, it seems that the majority of viewers wanted and predicted that Elizabeth would be with Nathan. This is for a reason. A good story sets up the relationship and gives clues and leads the viewer along to grand reveal later. It all makes sense to the audience. It's suppose to be a good story and an enjoyable ride for the audience. A show shouldnt be written as the season is happening, everything should be concluded or at least have a very clear ending to work towards. I hate how writers just decide to change things in an instant because then all the moments prior to the present episode make no sense and it was all for nothing.

This finale literally made me sick to my stomach. They did this story so dirty and I'm also upset that now, the actress who plays Allie, she probably won't be in the show much anymore which is a real shame because she was pretty good for a child actress and I just like to support the youth coming into their own.

I am not going to watch s9. Catch me fulfilling my heartie needs on fanficiton.net and also, I pray that we get leaked footage of this Elizabeth chooses Nathan ending that I am sure was filmed. Also the episode was called 'The Kiss' which is very vague and not specific to either relationship. Which is another hint to the writers leaving things open so they could make last minute decisions on who they wanted her to choose.

So disappointed. From what I see on twitter and everywhere else on the internet, this show will tank next season because no one will watch it. Lori Loughlin really said if I go down then the show goes down with me.

Jack died for this????

#when calls the heart #wcth #when calls the heart live

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helenazbmrskai · 4 years

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ONE TIME BOY [SPACE] FRIEND

👠Pairing: Jimin x fem! reader 👠Genre: makeover au, best friends to lovers au, gender bender au, beauty contest au 👠Warnings: light smut, semi-public oral (f and m receiving), mirror kink, cameo crazy girl hungry to be miss universe lol 👠Summary: Rejected by your long-time crush using the excuse of not being girly enough your best friend offers you his shoulder to cry on, his eyes land on the daily newspaper advertising the local beauty contest and he gets an excellent idea.

👠Words: 10k

👠Masterlist

”Man, I’m impressed you got an A in Mrs Hoster’s class. It’s notorious that she’s a real bitch with gradings.” I hear the rustling of papers and an oddly familiar laugh overpowering the previous noise the corridor is empty despite those two and me apparently. I stop in my tracks not intently but hiding behind the corner, they have no idea I’m here it’s a blind spot but hearing his voice getting stronger they need to be walking this way.

Mrs Hoster? I’m in her class too. I peek around the corner to see to whom this voice belongs to it’s badly familiar.

”Y/N helped me write the essay so it was an easy job.”

I turned around just in time to avoid getting caught. I closed my eyes for a split second the cold white wall helped me to steady the beating of my heart. It’s Han and his friend I recall his name is something Wu? I’m not sure I don’t interact with Han’s friends he’s the one who always hangs around my friends.

”Did you slept together?” Wu asks and my face turns red immediately. How vulgar not that I’m surprised just caught off guard. Han laughs again.

”No, I’m not interested in girls like her. She’s like a boy.” Looking down on my clothes the baggy shirt and ripped jeans my hair is long at least. I know I’m not the most stylish girl on campus but calling me a boy was a bit harsh considering I wrote everything in that essay of his the only thing he did is writing down the title but I’m not going around school telling my best friend he’s stupid.

”I know, I can’t believe she’s roommates with Jimin maybe he thinks she’s another dude or something too.” The audacity.

”Don’t mention him he keeps his guards on whenever he sees me with her it’s annoying. I’m lucky she’s wiped because knowing that guy his humanitarian soul already told her she’s used and I need my grades. The only thing she’s usable for is homework.” The annoyance is evident in his voice I don’t need to look to imagine how he pinches his nose between two of his fingers while talking.

My teeth clashed together with anger. Calling me a boy is one thing but pulling the honey string before my nose is something only a jerk would do. Yes, he’s handsome I admit that and I hoped for something to go forward between us and how foolish I was to think that. He wanted to think we stand a chance it was his plan all along and he used me. Jimin warned me. He told me this will happen.

"Are you seriously going to stop being Han's little puppy?" The question stirs me awake I feel like someone under a spell after what I witnessed I became awfully quiet around my friend and she noticed the change in my behaviour immediately. We arranged this meet up before I overheard the conversation with Han in fact I was on my way to her when it’s happened my mood was pretty good. I can’t tell the same half an hour later.

I stop mid-bite and aim my sauce-covered index finger to poke her nose but she dodged it before I could ruin her makeup. I abandon the plan and instead I use a napkin to clean my hands I look down on my plate which is still full of comfort food I thought that if I drown myself in junk food it would lift my mood but I couldn't be any more wrong about this.

Rori almost doesn't catch the sound of my tired sigh because of the Mcdonalds’ heavily crowded space by the time lunchtime rolled around the corner it's a miracle that we were able to find a tiny table with two seats inside.

"I wasn't his puppy." I spit the words out gnashing my teeth. Not very ladylike but bloody hell that I would care since I’m a boy I may act like one. "Also it was just a silly crush not that it will ever be more. It's time to move on. I'm too old to have this stupid high school like interest." Yes, I’m a grown-ass woman studying at a University.

"Uh-huh." Rori rolls her eyes suspicious about my sudden change of heart if I'm going to, be honest, there is nothing more that could go wrong on this day I tripped in front of at least 10 people when I was going to the toilet just before I was going to tell my friend how I was humiliated by my crush of 2 years. A very good day if you ask me.

"Jimin knows about this?" I look her dead in the eye conveying the message without words knowing where this conversation going I abandon my food entirely I nibble on my straw drinking my medium-sized coke occasionally. "So he doesn't." She states it sarcastically with her light green gel polished nails annoyingly drumming on the surface of the table.

"It's none of his business anyway." I drink the last drops of the coke before tossing the empty cup on the tray nearly knocking the fries out of their container.

"Why the sour face Y/N. He would be upset if he heard that. Aren't you guys are like besties and stuff?"

Now is not the time to be jealous.

"He's not a cry baby Rori. And we are best friends without the 'besties and stuff'. I thought you liked him." She nods in confirmation stealing one of my fries chewing them in a manner that makes people disgusted.

”We are besties and stuff.” I tell her with a grin and she finally smiles too. We’re like two peas in a pot the memory is still vivid when I first bumped into her quite literally. I was panicking since I didn’t know the route to my first class and on top of that I overslept on my first day she was no better.

”But back to the topic, girl, I’m on your side Han is a five-star shit head. I’m glad you finally realised that.” She’s right like always.

”The resident fuckface, huh?” I sent her a lopsided smile and she raised her hand to give me a thumbs up. Her favourite game is to give people alternative names. Han’s called the resident bad boy around here, she has an alternative option that I begin to like more and more.

”That’s the spirit. Want a ride? It’s going to rain soon.” Rori uses the napkins to clean our mess on the table. There’s no need for sherlock to see why we are still single. We eat like a pig starved for days. Looking out the window her words seem to be accurate the clouds covered the sun and the temperature decreased.

”Nah. I’m just going to be like the protagonist in your favourite rom-com and walk home in the pouring rain sadness devouring my soul while I drench like a homeless.”

Rori rolled her eyes at my dramatic response. ”That was awfully specific.” I shrug, getting up to dispose of the leftovers into a nearby bin.

With my eyes glued to the screen I pop another sickeningly sweet caramel popcorn into my mouth I surrounded myself with fuzzy blankets enjoying the late afternoon with binge-watching my all-time favourite series. Warming my cold feet under the comforter I remind myself not to forget to turn down the heater around the time Jimin comes home.

My hair is wetly clinging to my back soaking the headrest of the sofa I take a glance outside it’s still raining hard. As soon as I got home I changed my clothes but let my hair dry itself without making any effort it doesn't matter if I get sick or not. This way maybe I can avoid Han for a few days at least. Walking in the rain like a kicked puppy was not something I anticipated while waking up this morning but I guess I have to work with what I have.

After I was beyond the sadness the anger came, remembering all the times when he asked me to help with his essays or research projects and like a fool, I went out of my way to do that. It's for the better honestly if I observe the situation from a different perspective he was just using me and it's time for me to get over this silly crush of mine. I don’t even know what was I thinking.

Knowing what’s best is one thing but I'm still hurting I was pinning after him for over two years we share the same classes and we run in the same circles of friends. How can I possibly avoid him when I have to see him every day and skipping classes is not an option? It’s ridiculous and I’m not five anymore to solve my problems cowardly.

The only thing went right this day that Jimin is caught up with his classes so he won't be coming home until late. He sent me a text earlier that his professor wanted to keep that lesson which was cancelled last week so he won't be home as usual.

I didn't want him to see me like this so I embraced all of my pent up frustration and let everything out so I can act as if nothing happened when it’s time to face him. I can imagine how pissed off Jimin would be if he knew I didn't take a shower after arriving home in my soaked clothes and instead I rummaged through our apartment to seize up every gift and memory regarding him to throw it out. The passerby’s probably thought I’m some kind of a crazy chick throwing out my boyfriend's stuff from the 8th floor into the rain as a form of revenge and maybe they’re not so wrong considering that I just yelled through the window and told everyone to fuck off. He’s not my boyfriend but it felt good enough not to care.

I don't want to tell Jimin what I overheard since he always told me Han is a jerk and I shouldn't have wasted my time on useless scumbags like him. The plot twist is that he was right but I don't need to hear that I stopped denying that I knew that deep down but too stubborn to admit it.

I wanted my high school crush to notice me and have my silly happy ending. But in fact, this is not a Disney movie and I’m not a princess with a destinated prince charming. Knowing Jimin’s kind heart he would never rub salt into my open wound he would rather sit with me and watch sappy romcoms saying those sweet nothings like I'll find someone who deserves all of my attention and stuff like that. He would never say ‘I told you so’ in a mocking tone spicing it up with an eye roll like Rori did not long ago.

"Gilmore girls? Uh-huh, I smell something fishy here missy." Surprised to hear my roommate I glance away from the tv giving his form an attentive look. Jimin shakes the droplets out of his hair placing his umbrella next to the pile of shoes by the door after he got rid of his boots the keys metal clinking heard as he dropped them into the bowl on the counter. He stops in his tracks taking in with his eyes my torn up appearance.

"Why is your hair wet? You didn’t walk home in the rain, did you?" He hastily takes off his jacket and throws it on the couch sitting down next to me.

I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I didn't hear when the front door opened. I shrugged, indicating that it's no biggie I glance away from him and stare at the tv watching as the romantic scene unfolds on the screen. Fucking perfect even my favourite show is making fun of me.

"Did you forgot to bring your umbrella again? I told you this morning that it'll rain sweetheart." Distracted by the sweet words of worry I let his comforting heat envelop me as our sides pressed up together on the couch. To an outsider, it would seem like he lectures me on my goldfish memory but I see it in his eyes how worried he looks the soft glint in them always tells me how much he cares about me. Jimin envelopes me in a hug stroking my arm up and down in vertical movements attempting to warm me up.

"I'm fine." I tell him I bury my nose into the juncture of his neck the cold touch awakes goosebumps along his skin he shivers but pulls me closer to his warm body. It’s nice being here with him I would go that far saying that I could almost forget why I was in a bad mood before.

"You're freezing cold Y/N." So warm I could sleep like this even though I turned up the heater the cold seeped into my skin I was struggling to keep myself warm maybe it was a mistake that I didn't head for the showers after arriving home. But throwing his stuff out felt so good knowing myself I would do that again, call me impulsive.

"Sorry." I murmur it into his skin he chuckles as he circles my waist with his arms to push our chests flat against each other his warm palms stroking my back the warmth trickles through the thin t-shirt I'm wearing. So this is how it feels like to have your personal heater suddenly I’m jealous of his previous girlfriends.

Not that I was ever not. Jimin is like a living equivalent of a beautiful enigma. Handsome like he was sculpted by the gods itself paired up with a very sweet and honest heart he is a jackpot well hit. And then there’s me not particularly pretty or nice and he still calls me his little angel or nowadays he seems to call me in all sort of sweet names, princess, shortcake, baby name it all he said it.

"Will you tell me why are you upset, baby?" Here we are with the nicknames again I wonder if he noticed it or he does it subconsciously. Of course, he knows something is up with me he reads me so well that it's kinda scary sometimes. Am I an open book to him or is he this generous and caring?

I always envied his caring personality in campus everyone likes Jimin he acts like an angel he listens well and gives good advice he encouraged me when I was planning to leave my studies and drop out on my second year. We are roommates since my first year here he is a year above me and through friend’s advice, we moved in together.

At first, I was resisting intimidated by the thought that he is a senior and I was just a newbie but he never stopped trying even though that I didn't show any reaction at first he kept talking to me and showering me with tiny gifts like cute notebooks and one bite foods he did most of the housework too since he claimed that being new to all of this I should focus on my studies until I got the hang of everything telling me that he was very stressed in his first year so he understands my struggles. I often think about if he is true or not that he is not just existing in my delusional head because he’s an amazing friend and an even more amazing roommate. It feels unreal that I have him.

"It's stupid." I hide my face I try to enjoy the rhythmic sound of his chest heaving lulling me to sleep. I don’t want to burden him with my rant.

"Nothing is stupid for me in the regards of you." The soft words make me keen he aligns our faces so he can meet my eye I scowl at the lost contact and he smiles seeing it. I'm sure he is aware of the reactions he extorts out of me.

"Do you want a punch?" I poke his forehead using my index finger trying to get rid of that charming smile but it just grows wider. My plan always backfires.

"Always so violent." He grabs my finger scraping it lightly with his teeth playfully seeing the horrified look on my face he smirks after attaching my soul back to my body I pull my finger out of his mouth yelling and smearing the excess saliva onto his shirt in disgust.

"Ugh! What is wrong with you?" I yell moving to the far side of the sofa looking at my finger in disbelief. He stands up clearly entertained by my reaction but he turns back before entering my room.

"Where's your blowdryer? You'll get sick if you leave your hair like this." Folding my legs under me I lock eyes with his waiting ones.

"In my drawer." I tell him and he gives me a confirming nod in return.

He comes back after a couple of minutes he has my drier in his left hand motioning for me to face away from him on the sofa so he could get access to my hair. I get comfortable as he plugs in the electric part while delicate fingers comb through my locks untangling the knots before turning the device on.

"I wish you would take better care of yourself Y/N. What would you do if I weren't here?" I lean into his gentle touch loving the way he rubs my scalp it feels like a massage not like how I usually blow dry my hair.

Now that I know what it's like I want him to dry my hair every day. But that's how Jimin works he always makes sure I'm alright he puts extra care into his motions silently helping me unwind. He’s like this with everyone and I’m aware of that but manages to make me feel special every time I guess it’s a special skill he has.

I scoot a little closer to Jimin’s body while walking which didn't go unnoticed by either on Han’s or Jimin’s side but it’s not enough to halter Han's wide smile as he greets me. As usual, he ignores Jimin and the feeling is mutual nothing out of the ordinary. I greet him back but lacking the enthusiasm which used to lace my tone. Now it’s something out of the ordinary.

"Hey Y/N, so when are we going to do that project I talked to you about? I'm free after classes today how about we meet up at our usual spot in the campus cafe?" Jimin was going to excuse himself from the situation as he did every time before but this time I hold him in place by his long sleeves I gritted my teeth holding back my witty comeback alongside the punch I want oh so badly to deliver, but what would I get out of it? He'll just jump to the next girl with better grades to help his ungrateful ass and I'm sure he won't give a flying damn about me or my feelings.

"Actually I have plans later with Jimin." I tell him holding onto Jimin's shirt for emphasis. He's lost for words for a second I never told him no before but he composed himself quickly offering a smile but this time a little tight-lipped.

"Oh, I see. Then how about tomorrow?" I let out an annoyed huff. Just who does he think he is?

"Listen to me very well resident fuckface because I'm going to tell you this once." The threat apparent in my voice he automatically steps back not used to the tone I deliver while I step forward. In the corner of my eye, I catch Jimin’s silhouette keeping his laughter inside because of the name Rori got him. It felt good to finally say it to his face.

"I heard you. Was it funny to use me? You're saying that I'm ugly and ungirly for you to date but happily let me do your homework since it's the only thing I'm useful for. Yes, I had a crush on you and yes I knew you were using me but it was a bit too much even for me to hear you laugh with your friend saying that you are not interested in fucking a boy." By the time I was done talking Jimin's protective hand found mine but I was too furious to appreciate the gesture to its full potential.

"What? I .. I didn't mean .. that Y/N I was just fooling around. Don't be a baby about it." Hearing the response angered Jimin he stepped protectively in front of me and grabbed him by the collar. I was afraid that he's going to hit him but I wasn't worried about Han. I was worried about Jimin he's too nice to hit someone.

"It's ok Jimin. Let's just go." I place my palm on his shoulder I felt calmer since I let out all my pent up anger he looks back seeing my worried expression he lets Han's shirt go.

He must mistake my worry since he strides to the building where his morning classes are held with a sour face. I go after his retreating form ignoring the yells from Han he is not important at the moment.

We planned an early morning coffee together what a shame we had to collide with Han on the way now we don't have time to grab it but I don't want Jimin to think I was protecting Han because that's not the truth. Jimin was always more important than him and he should know that. What would be even nicer than that to not voice it out and still being understood. Where is his mind-reading power when I need it?

"Jimin!" I yell his name I caught his arm as he was about to enter the building I dragged him to the side not wanting to make a scene out of the situation or block the entry.

"Can you listen to me for a second." I plead in a calm voice he looks at me with an unreadable expression on his face. He's not angry nor happy he looks completely neutral which is scarier to see than him acting all angry.

"I didn't want to meddle with your business Y/N because it's not something I have the right to do but I can't watch it anymore that you let this pathetic crush of yours destroy you. He was toying with you the whole time and you didn't care. Are you stupid or something? And even now you are worried about him. He deserved a punch but I guess since it's ok with you.."

"Stop." I warn him. He acknowledges the hurt in my eyes but it's too late. He regrets how rude he was I can see it in the way he shamefully hangs his head low.

"I wasn't worried about him! I was worried about you! Even though he deserved that punch I didn't want you to be the bad guy at the end." I tell him the reason. Knowing Han’s spineless nature he would have spread rumours about Jimin being aggressive or even worse.

"Baby." He starts but I shake my head not letting him comfort me with his touch. He's going to be late anyway. He needs to go to class his teacher is strict on punctuality.

"Don't baby me. Is that what you really think of me? A fool?" Onlookers started to form in the vicinity the only thing missing was the popcorn in their hands. Why everyone here lives for the drama?

I know I wasn't always reasonable but Jimin should know best that it was a crush and I never had a real relationship to compare it to and I was, yes, foolishly preserving the false hope that someday maybe we could be something.

But it happens to all of us, no? I just wanted what everyone else has someone to call and introduce as my boyfriend.

I'm lonely. But hearing it from him from all the people I know Jimin was the one I was comfortable with talking about this since I knew he wouldn't make fun of me.

"I'm just concerned about you. Please Y/N don't look at me like that." He wrapped his fingers around my palm stroking the flesh with his thumb hoping to get back to my right side. He has a habit of being touchy in reprehensible situations.

"Let's talk about this later. You'll be late for class." I take a glance at my wristwatch taking it as an opportunity to shake his touch off.

"I don't want you to leave angry." He catches my wrist before I could walk away. We rarely fight so Hoseok is stunned into silence when he sees us in this position.

"Hi Hobi." I greet him before taking my leave this time Jimin doesn't stop me.

"I appreciate the attempts Jimin but you know it's not edible right?" I look up with hopeful eyes that I don't need to take a pity bite. He's very sweet but he definitely doesn't get the skills in terms of cooking and I would like to live a happy and long life.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just didn't know how else to ask for your forgiveness. We never fight and I didn't know what to do."

I take this chance to really look at him. He has my apron tied around his waist with bold letters the words 'kiss the cook' labelling the front I remember I got this for my birthday last year from him he's kinda cute in it I admit that. He fidgets in his spot in front of me taking my silence as a bad sign but I'm not someone who holds grudges for long and Jimin is one of the few people I can't even do that with even if I tried. He's just too nice.

"I know you were just looking out for me. I know you didn't mean it because I know you." I tell him offering a smile along the way so he won't overthink it and in hopes of we can get rid of this plate of trash he dares to call food.

"You're very important to me you know right?" He murmurs the words into my hair he hugs me tight and I hug him back stroking his back reassuringly. The angle is not the most comfortable one considering that I’m still in a sitting position so I had to twist my torso to hug him back and he’s taller too.

"Of course I know Jiminie." I beam.

"You never call me Jiminie unless you want me to feel better. You should be angry with me and flipping the dining table on my face." The way he pouted while talking made the situation funnier.

I laugh at the image.

"I know I'm a bit violent sometimes, but you don't think I would really shove the dining table into your face right?" I gently push him back to see his eyes I'm actually concerned if he knows that or not.

"I know." He nods giggling at how concerned my face looks.

"Good. Now that we talked about this, clean this mess up so I can cook something that can be consumed." I shoo him to start cleaning.

”Have you ever entertained the idea of reaching out for the military to get this listed on the biohazard weaponry?” I playfully ask and he gives me a glare. It was worth it.

He pecks my cheek before he begins loading the burnt food inside the bin. "What would I do without you?"

I hope it’s not an actual heart I see in his eyes because maybe I have to consider flipping that dining table.

"You would be still relying on the emergency food your mother sends you." I reply with the same playfulness he momentarily stopped every movement to look back at me, surprised that I know about his little secret.

"Who told you that? It was Hoseok, wasn't it?" He manages to look at me with narrowed eyes.

"It's fine. You do a lot of stuff for me so cooking for you is really nothing. And I love how you eat like a pig it means you really love it." The narrowness dissolves into a big grin and dilated pupils.

"The girls I dated didn't phrase it like that." He chuckles.

"What did they didn't like about that? You are so adorable when your cheeks are full of food. I mean I was going crazy about your munching noises but I'm used to it now." I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly I remember how at first I wasn't able to sit at the same table as him I always disliked the sound of munching but now I don't even notice it sometimes.

"I know what Han said hurt you Y/N. But you know it's not true right?" He asks in a more serious tone the previous light atmosphere went gloomy so fast.

"Which one? That no one would want to fuck a tomboy like me? Or that I'm only good for making others homework?" I say it jokingly but he was buying none of my bullshit. He knows I'm still pretty upset about it.

"Neither of those." I'm flattered how severely he stated it at least one of us are confident in me.

"How would you know that? I didn't do either of those for you." I roll my eyes anyway I'm not that easy to convince. Self-love and rainbows and shit are not something I'm currently feeling. Saying nice things is what flows through Jimin’s veins more than blood. He is that nice.

"You are beautiful Y/N and I have an idea of how we are going to get back at Han." The lunatic laugh he does scares me but I curiously ask what he meant by that.

"What's that?" I ask straining my neck to see the advertisement. I shouldn't have done that. The article on the front page alarms me with bold letters. Under the words a girl with very white teeth on display putting the toothpaste commercials to shame. The catchy slogan seeping out of her mouth ’try out your beauty here and don’t forget the most important thing is not winning but also to gain experience’ What a full of crap saying. Only the ones who don’t win say shit like that.

My skin pales as soon as I see the way Jimin eyes me.

"The hell to the fuck no. A beauty contest? Are you insane? I'm not going to do that." Only for my words to fell on deaf ears.

"Is this really necessary Jimin?" My voice is full of uncertainty. I don’t remember the last time I went to see a hairdresser maybe when I was back in my hometown. And if I remember correctly it was for my high school graduation. Time flies fast.

"Yes, it is babe. You're going to look the best I'm sure you'll rank first place and make your ex-crush poop his pants." I roll my eyes but I can't help the laughing noises escaping my sealed lips. The assistant shows me the seat that I take with a shy following ’thank you’. I’m suddenly feeling nervous about this.

"At this point, I would rather do this because of you. I want to make you proud of me." I avoid his eyes I feel bashful enough that I dared to say it out loud for him to hear.

"But sweetheart I'm already proud of you." His palms rested on the back of my chair we were still waiting for the hairdresser to start her magic on me. We lock eyes through the mirror in front of me due to the eye contact Jimin’s eyes turn darker with a feeling I can’t truly decipher I haven’t seen him acting like this. I open my mouth to question his stare when the assistant’s high voice interrupts me.

"How long have you been guys dating? You're such a lovely couple." I catch Jimin’s widening smile he’s watching me not rushing to correct the girl like I do.

"Oh. We are not dating! Just friends." I tell the truth blushing.

"My pardon, I thought..."

"Anyone would be lucky to have such a cute girlfriend." Jimin cuts the girl’s apology making me focus on him again. Why is he like that? It’s not normally how he is. No, he’s just being nice again, right, that’s the reason.

"I don't know about that." I shyly comment. Don’t know what else to say.

Only then I can finally breathe when the lady arrives Jimin takes his place further away sitting down on one of the chairs in a row before the wall at the other side, scrolling through his phone since the professional said it will take some time to finish.

”Do you have something in mind?” I think for a while before shaking my head I haven’t thought about that honestly. It was Jimin’s idea in the first place.

”Um, curling it? Cutting the dead ends?” I offer and the lady nods with a friendly smile she starts working soon.

After the hair salon, we went shopping for a dress. He did all the reading while he applied for me and made a list of things we needed to get done before the Pageant. The first was to get my hair fixed the second one is to find a dress for the ending ceremony.

I struggle to bound the backside of the dress but to no avail, I can't reach the zipper on my own.

"Jimin?" I call his name rather uncertainly but it's the better option since I don't want the guy shop assistant with the rude attitude to touch me plus I trust Jimin. It's just a dress he saw me dressed up before so I don't know why I can't calm down the stupid pounding of my heart. It’s probably because of the way he stared at me through the mirror I tell this to myself.

"Yes princess, do you need help?" Now is not the time to think about inappropriate thoughts it’s Jimin we are talking about. A friend. I clear my throat before speaking hoping that the words will come out steady.

"Actually yes. I can't get this dress up can you come in and help me?"

I hold the front of the dress not to reveal too much skin this dress is so tight that I needed to get rid of my bra since my body won't fit in the front of the dress otherwise, I'm pretty sure the line of my panty shows as well but it felt too much to remove.

"You look beautiful." The praise made my heart melt his eyes shimmered in adoration as he found my gaze through the mirror he maintained eye contact while he reached for the zipper of the dress he touched the upper part of my ass accidentally my cheeks flushed in pink he rested his other hand on my shoulder keeping the dress together. What’s with him and mirrors? He seems to act differently when one’s around.

"Thanks." I whisper bashfully the tiny booth suddenly feels too hot not sure if it's from embarrassment or from something else I cannot put my finger on. He steps back admiring the dress and how I look in it with the help of his hand still resting on my shoulder he turns me to face him he looks up and down memorising my body seeing his gaze I feel exposed even though I know I'm wearing clothes. Partially.

"Hmm. So pretty." He slides his fingers down the length of my arm with gentle motions stopping at my elbow pushing my body flush against him my back collides with the booth's thin wall with a soft thud as I tried to gain back some distance.

The sweet cologne hits my nose with his eyes hooded he looks down mere centimetres away from my lips. He licks his telling me without words that he wants to kiss me looking between my lips and eyes for confirmation but he is soon done waiting.

I was about to protest when he leaned in which results in that our teeth clash but it doesn't deter him from kissing me harder connecting our lips together firmer with the pad of his finger Jimin caresses my jawline guiding my face to follow his lead. I can feel the soft press of his warm tongue asking for permission when the shopping assistant calls for us.

"Everything is alright?" He asks I'm sure he has his own ideas what's happening in here. We pant into each other's mouths we separated as soon as the assistant's voice reached our ears but Jimin didn't step back as I thought he would.

"Yes. The zipper was stuck but it's fine now." Jimin tells the guy and he seems to let that stay at that not intruding further. Jimin's cheek appears to be as pink as mine which makes me a little less nervous.

"I don't want to do this." I protest what feels like the 100th time this day.

We are currently sitting in the library and looking up topics for me fashin magazines littered in the tiny table and for almost 30 minutes since we got here Jimin's knee painfully touching my thighs under the table but I'm too afraid to voice it out.

Am I a bad person? Moving on this fast and pinning after my best friend like an affection starved bitch. Han was a jerk but Jimin is very nice which makes it ten times worse.

After our shared kiss in the changing booth, Jimin seems too normal. Am I the only one affected by it? I’m at the conclusion that it wasn’t even real and my head just played tricks with me cruelly. What frustrates me more is that I haven’t got a full taste and it’s affecting me nonetheless.

”Hmm.” He hums distracted not paying attention to my whining. He turns a page his face lit up as he positions the magazine to let me see its content. There’s a tall girl in a nice dress and each side there’s an article about manners. I almost roll my eye at that. Manners and I are not very familiar with each other.

”What about it? I thought I just have to say I want world peace and cry a little but you actually think about the topic I have to talk about?”

I remember him saying that in one of the rounds I have to talk about a chosen topic for ten to fifteen minutes. He’s more serious about this than I thought at first. Why do I find his determination cute and hot at the same time? Something is clearly wrong with me.

”World peace? It’s not Miss Congeniality Y/N.” He puts the article down laughing with his head thrown back but soon composes himself when the librarian warns us to be quiet or we have to leave.

”Yes, Jimin be quiet.” I retort however my smile vanishes when he leans closer his hand flat against my thigh.

”Did you say something?” His breath fanning my face he keeps his voice down this time. I don’t dare to look down his hand is awfully close to where I don’t want it to be and especially not in a library.

It’s like a switch is turned off and on in him at the most unexpected moments.

"You're being touchy again. Are you going to glare at every single male until we are done?" The corridor is busy with people and Jimin refuses to leave my side opting for helping me find the sitting room.

I wasn’t feeling nervous when I woke up this morning but getting closer and closer for the competition to end the nerves making my stomach flip in an uncomfortable way was getting stronger with every second.

"I'm just making sure you are safe, sweetheart men are wolves you know." He secures his jumper to cover my front. This bikini wasn't even that revealing for fuck's sake. Although he’s unnecessary protectiveness was enough to channel my focus into something else.

"You are a man." I state the obvious looking deadly into his eyes articulating the word ’man’ for emphasis.

I'm kind of done with his overprotective behaviour. He kissed me and now he thinks he is some kind of older brother for me. I honestly don't know what to think. And the way he teased me in the library. There’s no way he wasn’t aware of his hands on my body.

"But I'm allowed to look at you they're not." The little whiny edge in his voice doesn’t melt me this time he’s being childish. It sits on the tip of my tongue to say what makes you think that you have my permission, but I refrain from doing so.

"Jimin it's like the same when we are at the beach it's just a bikini and they will see it eventually when I go on stage." I decided to use another approach instead.

"I'm suddenly not sure about this. How about we get out of here?" The hand holding the jumper up strengthens on my body.

"Calm down. You made me do this so we're going to do this." I say it like there’s no room for discussion.

Two people were eager to make their existence visible while we were bantering I can’t say I was dying to see Han and his new puppet. Han wasn’t even aware it’s me next to Jimin I guess a little dress change and makeup do wonders.

"What a pleasant surprise to see you here?" I can’t say the same. Despite the thought, I remain silent but thinking again I straighten my back and call her out on her words. She’s a year above us I remember this girl because she’s always noisy in class. She retakes one of our classes that’s why my year knows her in the first place.

"Are you asking or stating it?" I roll my eyes Han's hand curves around the girl's waist holding her close.

Really her? He must be fucking her because there’s no way she can write his essays for him.

"Y/N?" Han's unsure voice makes me satisfied. Call me now ungirly you prick if you dare. But I can’t relish in the feeling because her highness speaks again.

"I meant it's nice that you are here since there will be a winner and we always need a loser." I’m not going to mention how unreal this girl looks. Her hair is blonde but it’s the doll-like artificial kind of blonde. It’s stereotypical but her voice is making me cringe it’s like she swallowed a toy duck the kind which whistles when it’s clenched.

"Hold your fake tits Y/N's going to win." I never heard Jimin using explicit words before I'm shocked beyond belief. Han’s eyes linger on the way Jimin holds me close, it looks like he knows something I don’t.

"5 minutes!" Hearing the yelling of the staff it's our cue to leave.

"What was that?" I'm struggling to hold back my laughter. We finally arrive in front of the door where a huge sign says the sitting room.

"She insulted you. I'm not going to watch this chick looking down on you." It’s just now that he releases his hold letting the jumper fall.

"And I'm thankful. The only validation I need is from you Jimin. Do you really think I look ok?" I’m nervous it’s totally out of my league to be here. The thoughts about those two leaving my brain easily.

"Look ok? You look gorgeous. Keep that in mind that after this day no matter what happens you'll remain the winner in my eyes." He massages my shoulders his fingers dig into my flesh in a calming manner.

"That means you’re going be proud even if I'm last?" He shakes his head in disbelief he has more faith in me than I have in myself.

"Don't say that. Have a little faith in you darling."

I smile as soon as I saw Jimin's figure lingering by the door our eyes met in the reflection of the mirror I put my flowers down on top of the dressing table reaching for him to receive a congratulation hug. I can’t say I'm disappointed that I'm not finished in the first place but I'm kind of happy because I ranked third place which is quite the achievement on my part and it all thanks to Jimin.

Grabbing my hips when he gets close enough he crashes our mouths together in a hot kiss moving his lips skilfully against mine with unconcealed eagerness like he waited years to do that. He steps closer traping my body between his body and the dressing table angling my head to slip his tongue into my mouth. He’s not as gentle as before.

"Jimin." I pant. "But I didn't get first place." I reason but he shuts me up with another kiss on my abused lips he gets my lower lip between his teeth basking in my reactions I let my eyes flutter open seeing his face this close he looks like an angel the only thing giving him away is that his eyes hid not so innocent thoughts.

"I told you. You're a winner in my eyes. Do you want your reward sweetness?" He kisses my earlobe after releasing my lip whispering into it before he moves down to pepper the exposed skin on my neck with wet open-mouthed pecks.

"Jimin, we are in public. Someone might see us." I try not to give in so easily but it was hard controlling my needs since the sexual tension grew tenfold after our little kiss inside the changing booth and the library. Shit, his mouth feels good on my heated skin.

"They're celebrating the winner no one will search for us for a while. How about we hold our little celebration as we wait?" The suggestion makes my eyes roll back into the back of my skull my legs shake in anticipation and he grins seeing my lust-filled expression.

"You're unbelievable. Do you want to fuck me in a dressing room while anyone could see us? Is that a kink of yours?" My head clears a little as he backs away looking at his reflection behind us in the mirror.

"I'm not going to fuck you here baby." His eyes focus on me again caressing the skin on my waist the gesture is lovely but I can't help feeling disappointed hearing his words. Of course, he wouldn't want to fuck me what was I thinking. We are talking about Jimin he could have everyone, of course, it's not me who he wants.

"Oh." I cannot help but let out a disappointed yelp he must sense my anxiety since he continues.

"This is just the foreplay don't be disappointed cheesecake. I'm planning on worshipping your body and we have no time for that here. I'm willing to wait to fuck you till we get home until then I just need a quick taste." He plays with the band of my underwear showing his intentions he undoes just the right side of the bow keeping the material in place revealing a part of my skin there.

"Bold of you to assume I'm going to let you." Hearing my mocking voice he places his palm against my heat making me moan out with how precisely he moves his fingers. It was embarrassingly easy to make me shut up and he loves it.

"Did you say something? I didn't hear you." He never falters his ministrations his index finger slips under the fabric feeling the wetness that gathered there he moans into my ear after he places a quick kiss to the underside of my collarbone.

"I said hurry the fuck up." I take hold of his biceps the slow-motion his one finger provides soon feels not enough to satisfy me.

"Since it's your prize I'm not going to tease you this time." He slowly drops down to his knees seeing him in front of me is enough to moan out and he cannot stop the light chuckle leaving his lips the lips he’s going to wrap around my heat.

"I was waiting to get you out of those the moment I saw you in them." He plays with the other side of the bow which is still in place. Once it’s undone he shoves the material into his pockets. I realise that I don’t know much about him at all in the field of sex. We never talked about it but I knew he’s not a virgin.

"Hmm, that's why you were covering me the whole time? It was not because of the boys, was it? You covered me so I won't give you a boner while we wait for the staff's call." He chooses this exact moment to lick a long drawn out stripe up my folds sucking on my clit in a teasing manner. He hooks a hand under my leg to position it and lift it onto his shoulder for better access. My long-nailed fingers pull on his hair.

"You figured me all out, baby. Now less talking and more moaning." Ending his statement he dives in my legs shake due to the pleasure he sure does know his ways around a women body. I wonder how many partners he had but I need only one finger to slip inside to forget every thought I had. I whine at the stretch not because it’s uncomfortable but because it’s not enough I’m so wet that I could take him right then and there.

”Please, Jimin. Please.” At this point, I’m not even sure what I’m begging for but luckily Jimin knows exactly what I need. The neediness not only evident in my voice and soft mewls but in my body as well in restless shaking it makes Jimin smile against me he caresses the inner side of my thigh his tongue on my clit draws eight shapes his fingers slow but reaching deep it’s obvious he’s trying to extend my sweet torture.

At first, only using one finger then it’s quickly turned into two scissoring it occasionally making me ready for his cock the thought of him being inside of me automatically makes me clench around his fingers. The way he emits little sounds of appreciation while going down on me is a huge turn on. I doubt he feels better than me right now but sure does it seems like he enjoys it a lot more normally guys do.

”J-Jimin.” I stutter his name his tongue and fingers starting to feel too much for me to handle I fidget as much as I can while Jimin’s hands holding me in place I can’t hide away from the feeling and he doesn’t stop.

He speeds up his movements not listening to my silent pleas to stop the way he licks up every drop and welcoming the new waves of wetness makes my head spin. ”I’m going to cum.” I warn him I grab the side of the table I need something to hold on tight to ground myself against the intense feeling of my fast approaching orgasm. ”Ah J-Jimin.” He hums with his mouth wrapped around my sensitive bud I close my eyes so hard that I start to see red dots in my vision. He doesn’t stop even though I reached my high with shaky fingers I can finally pull his head the sight I see when he looks up to take in my fucked out face almost makes me push through another orgasm itself.

Jimin uses the back of his hand to wipe off the leftover wetness gathered around his mouth and chin it was glistening in the sun provided light. As he gets up from the crouching position he slowly lets my leg touch the ground again he starts doing calming smooth circles on my hipbone delivering light kisses on my lip waiting for me to get back to my senses.

He gives me the sweetest smile I have ever seen on him. Almost makes me forget how he was between my legs a few minutes prior.

"B-baby what are you doing?" I could hear the ragged breath he sucked in through his nose it takes time to get on my knees since they’re kinda shaky I grabbed his hipbone to steady myself on the ground looking up at his face with a proud smile.

I caressed the soft flesh under his shirt I could feel the muscles contracting under my light touches. I look in front of me to study the outline of his dick he’s hard and he’s hard because of me.

"It's not fair of me to take and not give back the favour don't you think?" I palm him through the rough material of his jeans he moans significantly loud it earns a huge grin on my part and an embarrassed smile on his. Cute.

"This day is all about you. I'm going to show you how proud I am because of you." Despite his words, his opposition was weak he let me palm him he wasn’t able to keep his eyes open when I applied more pressure. I love the way he’s so responsive to my every touch and the high pitched tone he moans in the back of his throat. The whiny edge of it encourages me to do better because I certainly want to hear more of those.

"By letting me blow you. Pants down." I raise one of my brows waiting for him to remove his pants for me. His eyes reopen when he doesn’t feel my hand on his body he looks down where I’m sitting on my legs knees bent he sucks in a shaky breath, pupils dilated and he finally nods he clears his throat to sound more collected.

"Shit. Fine."

"In any other situation, I would love to hear how vocal you are Jiminie but right now you need to keep quiet for me. Can you do that? Hmm?" I tease him I take a good look at his member his grith is quite impressive he’s thicker than it seemed when it was inside his boxers. Before I could change my mind or make Jimin embarrassed because of my staring I wrapped my fingers around him there are a few inches I cannot reach and It shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does.

"This feels so g-good." I collect the precum to help me move up and down his shaft, after a louder whiny moan on Jimin’s part I decide to hold him firmer he throws his head back both of his hands grabbing the table’s edge he’s holding back not to thrust up into my hand the pulsing vein visible as he bares his neck.

"A-ah please slow down, i-it's too much." Reciprocating the favour I lick at the tip while speeding up my jerking motions the double pleasure forces a loud whimper to escape his parted lips.

A knock interrupted our moment Jimin's body goes rigid afraid that we'll be caught. I withdraw my ministrations letting his shaft leave my mouth with a wet pop. Despite the risky situation, I can see it on him it requires a lot of self-control on his part not to thrust back into my mouth.

"Yes?" I answer going back to deliver a kittenish lick to his tip not letting the newly released precum go to waste Jimin stutters biting his lip hard not to whine out. My voice sounded worn out but the staff member didn’t pay attention to it.

"The closing ceremony will start soon." So she’s here to inform me.

"When?" I ask between licks I found the throbbing vein at the underside of his cock following the line up from the base to tip a low grunt leaves Jimin's lips I automatically gaze at the door but thanks to the noises of the people outside of the door the sound is lost within these four walls.

"15 minutes."

I hum against his dick in acknowledgement the vibration shoots another pleasurable wave up his spine immediately Jimin's fingers strengthen in my hair. "I'll be there." I pull away for a second to offer my answer to the assistant. She leaves after that.

"Let's bet Jiminie. Do you think I can make you cum within 15 minutes?" His eye flutter shut groaning when I apply pressure again using my hand to pump his full length this time it's easier due to the spit from the previous help of my mouth.

I use the heel of my palm to smear down the newly formed precum leaking from his tip he's extremely sensitive to my every touch I continue licking the tip circling my mouth around the head of his cock the pretty high pitched moans getting significantly louder but I let him he's close anyway.

"Y-you don't have to s-swallow it."

"Shit. You swallowed." I liked the way his eyes darkened by the discovery the salty taste won't be my favourite flavour but it was alright also this way it left less of a mess.

I need to be presentable soon. My jaw hurts because of the long use but it worth it seeing Jimin's fucked out state he looks even prettier with a sheen of sweat coating his spotless skin. It makes me proud knowing he’s like this because of me.

"Are you alright?" I comb my fingers through his messed up hair his fringe sticking to his forehead looking me up and down behind his long locks framing his eyesight with bedroom eyes slightly closed still trying to get down from his high.

"More than okay, baby. More than okay."

Circling his hands around my waist he pulls me closer until our bodies fully pressed together he rubs his nose into my pulse point kissing it I feel the faint pressure of his teeth that I grab the back of his head to pull it away. He whines because of the denied access but lets me pull him back.

”I can’t have a hickey Jimin, I don’t want everyone here to know what we did in this dressing room.” I reason but he seemed to like the idea, I hit his chest with a serious expression at that his wide smile starting to piss me off.

”Fine, fine. I’m surprised you still have the energy to be this violent. Jeez, woman.” Jimin wets his lips with his tongue his face shows satisfaction and cockiness. I wonder how many girls were able to see this side of him.

”We have limited time Jimin. I need to get that dress on.” I decide to ignore the smirk and move I don’t have much time before I need to get back out there and this dress is so tight to get on and now I’m sweaty too. ”I need help.”

”I would rather get you out of it though.” I turn my back to him so he can get the zipper up.

”Of course you would.” I roll my eyes following the sarcastic sentence.

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aquietwritingcorner · 3 years

Text

Embers of Revelation

Author: RealityBreakGirl/aquietlearningcorner Word Count: 8269 Rating: T Prompt: FMA Big Bang 2021 Warnings: Child abuse/neglect Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Roy Mustang, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Black Hayate Pairing: Royai Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family Chapter: 6 of 7 Summary: Tasked by Fuhrer Grumman to investigate a suspected alchemic incident, General Mustang’s team finds themselves stranded in Hawkeye’s hometown. Needing a place to stay, they find themselves taking shelter in her childhood home. However, her past can’t stay buried there, and as revelations come to light, they also bring embers of danger with them. Sequel to Embers in a Wounded Heart AO3 || ff.net

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Chapter 5

Havoc made his way back downstairs and followed the voices around until he found Mustang in the dining room with the documents that they had laid out. He, Breda, and the sheriff were looking over them.

“Hey boss,” he said. “What’s going on?”

Mustang looked over at him. “How were Hawkeye and Fuery?”

“Alright,” he said. “Both were worried about the other. Fuery feels guilty, and the drug kinda lowered Hawkeye’s walls, so she’s a bit more emotional than usual.”

It was his way of saying that she was worried and scared, and she knew that the team would pick up on it. He was sure that the Sheriff could read between the lines as well, but most people were polite enough not to push when something was clearly being framed in a private way. The sheriff appeared to be one of those people.

“So, what’s going on out back?” Havoc asked, curious about the noise that he was hearing. It was still going on.

“Falman looked through the records in town,” Breda said, “and found evidence that there was a door that led from the outside the basement. No one is exactly sure when it was covered up, but it was. Right now, we’ve got men out there, digging to find it.”

“Why?” Havoc said. “He wasn’t getting through that way, if we have to dig to find it.” If he had been, surely they would have seen some sign of it.”

“If he was using alchemy to cover his tracks, he might have,” Mustang said. “But with the ground as saturated as it’s been, the rain would have washed away any signs of alchemy used on the ground.”

“We also want to know for security’s sake,” Breda said. “Even if he wasn’t getting in that way, if there’s a tunnel, or staircase or some other sort of opening, then we need to know so that we can guard against it.”

“Right,” Havoc said. “That makes sense.” He paused, looking towards the kitchen and the back door. “So, who’s out there?”

“Most of the men that came back with you,” the sheriff said, “and that other fellow of yours. Lieutenant Farman or something.”

“Falman,” Mustang corrected him

“Falman,” the sheriff immediately corrected himself. “Can’t get it to stick in my head for some reason.”

People always seemed to have a hard time remembering Falman, or his accomplishments and Havoc thought it was tragically ironic, considering that the man had that fantastical memory that he did. He was kind of like Sheska, in that, and Havoc had a brief chill thinking about the unholy memory that would be produced if the two of them ever got together and had children.

“I’m about to head out and check on the progress,” Breda said. “You wanna come?” he asked Havoc.

Havoc shrugged. “Might as well. Might pick up a shovel and help.”

“No, you won’t,” Mustang said, and havoc looked back at him, startled.

“Sir?” he said, confused.

Mustang looked at him. “I’ve noticed the way that you’ve been pushing yourself. You’re not moving smoothly now either. You’re not going to be doing any hard labor. You’ve been neglecting taking care of your legs since the day Hawkeye was looked in the basement. Today you’ve pushed them even more. You need to rest them.”

Havoc made a face. “Boss—I’m not sitting around doing nothing while there’s work to be done.”

Breda clapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, no one said that you were sitting around doing nothing. Someone’s got to write up the report since Hawkeye and Fuery are out of commission.”

“Oh. Goody. Great,” Havoc deadpanned, and Breda, Mustang, and the sheriff all grinned at him. Well, at least he could provide the entertainment.

He went with Breda out back, waving at Mrs. Nelson who was, it seemed, cooking up a storm in the kitchen, just like Havoc had thought she was. It looked like she was planning on feeding every single man here, and somehow that didn’t surprise him in the least.

Out back there was a group of men working behind the house. They seemed to be taking turns digging, although there were plenty of shovels around.

“Where’d we find all the shovels?” Havoc asked, not remembering there being that many around her before.

“General transmuted them,” Breda said. “It made it go faster.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Havoc said, looking at all of the work that had been done.

Running along the house there was a trench, dug down about three feet and extending out about two. It ran for maybe four yards at this point, and they were clearly looking for something very specific. The ground was so wet, though, that the piles of dirt were slippery, sloppy mud piles and the walls of the trench held little integrity. The men themselves were covered in mud, nearly from head to toe, and even Falman himself, who looked to be doing more directing then digging, was pretty muddy too.

Havoc was glad that Fuery was laid up in bed at this point. He didn’t need to see trenches like this. Not after his experiences down south. They brought to mind the few stories that Havoc had gotten out of the young man, and even those were sparse. Best for him not to see these, if he could be spared them.

“Any luck?” Breda called out to Falman.

Falman shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “We know it’s somewhere in this general vicinity, though, from the pictures I found. The house has been remodeled a time or two, so that makes pinpointing it a bit more difficult. Plus, when these things are removed, they tend it bury the place where the door was.”

“Yeh, and the Hawkeyes always were a paranoid bunch,” one of the men said. “The family’s been around these parts since nigh the beginning of the town. But they’ve always been a bit squirrely. There’s stories that stretch back pretty far. Riza’s grandparents here were as well. They didn’t like anyone in their business. And old Berthold, now he was a strange one.” The man glanced at them, “Look, I ain’t saying that I have anything against alchemists. They can be right useful! But there was something off about Berthold, and especially after his wife died of the sickness. Didn’t see a lot of him before that but saw less after.”

“Yeah?” Havoc said, curious, and wondered if this man would give him more information.

The man nodded. “Bout once a month he’d go around and fix things, charge for them, although it didn’t have to be money. Sometimes it was supplies or what have you. You never knew what me might ask. Sometimes he brought his daughter around with him, and sometimes he didn’t. She was a slight, shy thing, never played well with the other kids. Just stood back and watched, like she was scared to or something. Worried about her a bit, but she seemed alright, so we just thought it was more of the Hawkeye strangeness.”

He paused, though, scratching at his neck, before remembering the mud on his hand and pulling a face. “When she came to school, though, she seemed to be alright. Shy, quiet, but alright. Well-mannered, polite, smart. She was socially awkward, but that was understandable, living in this big house with no one but her strange father. Honestly, she only really started to come out of her shell when that Mustang kid came around.” He shrugged. “No one thought he would last, but he did.”

“A city boy in the country. Yeah, that’s usually a recipe for disaster,” Havoc agreed.

The man seemed to take that as encouragement and kept talking. “Oh, there were a few disasters in there,” he said with a grin. “But on the whole, it wasn’t too bad. All the girls were enamored with him, though, and the boys hated him for it. He would start to get a little arrogant, and then Riza’d come along and slap him down, sometimes literally. She’d fuss at him and chew him out about the stupid things he’d do, and he always looked surprised, but he listened and learned. It was honestly the most animated that any of us had ever seen her, and it was refreshing to know she wasn’t completely taken over by her father.”

The man sighed, looking back at the house. “Kinda hoped the two of them would get married one day. They were good for each other. You should have seen how withdrawn she got again when Roy left. A few of us worried about her, but we all knew better then to step into the private affairs of the Hawkeyes. Things never went well for the people that did that. When Roy came back just before Berthold died, we didn’t know how things were going to go. He was a soldier then, and Berthold did not like the military. When Berthold passed, the talk about town was if Roy would marry Riza, or if she would follow him.” He shook his head and sighed. “She followed him, but not in the way that we thought she would.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Havoc said.

“Imagine our shock when we saw the newspapers talking about the Flame Alchemist and The Hawk’s Eyes, and we knew that they were our Roy and Riza.” The man continued. “It was a shock to us, and the talk of the town for months. Even more surprising was when Riza turned up one day, talked to some people about making sure her home was restored a bit and kept up, paid for it, and then left. We had no idea what was going on. She had some strange requirements too,” he said, thinking about it. “We weren’t to look through the study or the basement. She took care of the study, and Roy came a few days later, and took care of the basement. He never returned, but she came back once a year to check on things, and then left. I think she’d write Mrs. Nelson and maybe a couple of others to check on things, just to be sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like the yearly trips she’d make,” Havoc said. “Never knew where she went, though.”

The man shrugged. “Here, it seems.” He looked back at the house again. “You know, even though they never married, it seems those two are still together.”

“Yeah,” Havoc agreed. “Boss and Hawk are pretty inseparable. They always manage to find their way back to each other. And,” he grinned, looking at the man, “she still gets onto him and fusses at him.”

The man chortled and rocked on his heels. “Some things never change, do they? Maybe one day the two of them will just go ahead and get married.”

“Maybe so,” Havoc said, and he knew that he wouldn’t object, although he wasn’t counting on it anyway. Not until everything was done and Mustang’s plans were complete. The only thing those two were more dedicated to then each other, was the plan.

Havoc watched for a few more minutes before looking over at Falman. “So, what are you going to do if you don’t find—”

He was cut off by the shout of a man who was digging. “Hey! Hey, I think we found it!”

Falman gave Havoc a look that seemed to say, “you doubted me?” and all three of them headed over to where the men were digging. There were the remnants of a structure there, capped and sealed off. It looked like it could have been part of a chute or an escape at some point, and the men were trying their best to clear the soggy ground away from it so that they could get to it easier. That, of course, wasn’t easy, considering the soggy ground around them, but they were still trying.

“General!” Breda called, his voice bellowing like only he could. “We’ve found something!”

Within just a few moments, Mustang was outside, and so was the sheriff, both of them heading straight towards the area that the men were gathered around. It only took them a second to realize the trouble that the men were having with the ground, and only one word from Mustang to clear them away.

“Move,” he said, and all of the men scrambled back.

Mustang clapped and put his hands on the ground, the familiar blue light crackling up. Or, well, listening to the murmurs of the men who were watching, it might only be familiar to Havoc, Breda and Falman, Havoc decided. Maybe he was just so used to alchemy and seeing it that he forgot just how amazing it could be.

Mustang raised up part of the ground in thick walls, to prevent the slop of mud from running down in it, and, at the same time, drew the moisture out of the ground around it. Havoc could feel the ground under his feet become a little firmer, but he heard others suddenly notice that the ground around them was soggier. They were standing further back, so he guessed that Mustang had simply moved the water away.

“Alright. That won’t hold forever,” Mustang said. “The ground is too saturated for that. But it will hold for now.”

The opening was clearly sealed up, and that was another problem that they were going to have to deal with. Havoc heard talk of tools and the like, but he just smirked, knowing wait was coming next. Mustang clapped again, and put his hands on the seal, transforming it into a door. Breda climbed down into the area Mustang had made, and together they pulled each side open. It was dark down there, and Mustang pulled on a glove, snapping and sending a small line of fire down it. Stairs were still there, rickety though they seemed.

“Falman. Stay here and guard the entrance,” Mustang said.

“Yes, sir,” Falman replied, looking as if he really didn’t want to go down there anyway.

Havoc climbed down to join them, And Mustang turned to look at him, clearly about to tell him to stay behind too. “I’m coming, boss,” he said. “I need to see this through.”

Mustang looked at him, and then nodded. “Alright. Then let’s go.”

“I’m coming as well,” the sheriff said.

“So am I,” Thompson said.

“No.” Mustang’s voice was sharp. “This is the captain’s private life. We know about it, but I am not going to expose her life to people she hasn’t given permission to.”

“This is part of an investigation that’s happened here, where I am,” the sheriff said. “This is my jurisdiction. I need to be part of this.”

There was a clear tension building between Mustang and the Sheriff, and it was all fueled by Mustang’s protectiveness over Hawkeye. Mustang, though, was not a stupid man. He understood how to weigh things and seemed to come to some of decision.

“We’re going to go down first,” he said. “Let us look around, make sure that there’s nothing sensitive, either both personally for the captain, or militarily, and then, once we’ve made a clean sweep, then we’ll call you down.” The sheriff looked like he was going to protest, but Mustang cut him off. “We don’t know what we’re going to find down there, but we do know that it involves the military. With my alchemy I’m better equipped to handle any potential problems, and I know my men and what they’re capable of. It will be easier for us to handle any potential problems. We know how to work with each other.”

The sheriff was silent for a moment, and then he nodded. “Alright,” he said. “But if you’re not back soon, we’re coming down.”

Mustang nodded, and they headed down the dark, damp stairs. There was no light down there, but apparently Falman had thought ahead, and gave Breda a lantern before they headed down. The stairs were steep and old and creaky. They carefully made their way down them, Havoc just hoping that they wouldn’t collapse under them. The stairs led into an open area that obviously had once been part of the basement but had been blocked off at some point in time, although Havoc couldn’t see a reason why.

“How did I miss this?” Mustang murmured to himself.

“Depends on how thick the walls are,” Breda said, going over to it with the light.

Mustang followed him over and beckoned for him to shine his light in a particular place. “Here,” he said. “Signs of alchemy. This was how he was getting in and out of the house. This was how he locked Hawkeye in the basement and escaped.”

“But how did he get down here?” Havoc said. “It wasn’t the way that we came in.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Mustang said, and turned to look around and see what else he could see down there.

Breda swung his lantern around too, trying to see what else there was down there. It carefully roamed the walls, until Mustang called for it to come to a stop.

“There,” he said. “Right there. I want a closer look.” They walked over, and Mustang knelt to examine the wall. “there’s alchemy here too. There must be a wall here with something behind it.”

“Want me to get the sheriff?” Havoc asked, this seeming like something that it might be a good idea to have the man in on.

“Yes,” Mustang said. “Bring them down.”

Havoc went back over to the bottom of the stairs and called up. “Hey! You two come on down. We found how Johnson was entering!”

It was only a couple of moments later that the Sheriff and Thompson were coming down the stairs and joining them in this closed off section of the basement.

“Where?” the sheriff asked.

Mustang gestured towards the wall. “Over there. He’s been transmuting himself a way into the basement. But I think that he also transmuted his way in here too. This wall shows signs of alchemy. I’m going to see what’s behind it.”

The sheriff nodded, and they all stood back as Mustang clapped and put his hands on the wall. The wall itself fell away, revealing a tunnel behind it. The sheriff and Thompson looked at each other, but Mustang was staring at the tunnel, resolute. Breda and Havoc followed suit. They were going to figure this out.

“Let’s go,” Mustang said, all business, his voice holding all of his command.

He started forward, Breda and Havoc right behind him, the sheriff and Thompson following behind after a moment. The tunnel was earthen, and sodden. It looked like it might collapse at any moment, but Mustang walked on, not deterred in the least. It was winding, and every so often there was a plank of wood with a transmutation circle carved into it. Mustang activated them as they went, and it became obvious that these were for structural integrity, which really was ingenious when you got down to it. It still didn’t take away Havoc’s unease at being underground in a sodden earthen tunnel after the area has been completely saturated with rain and the water table had to be higher than normal, but it was at least something to try to help.

The tunnel went on for a long way, completely dark and only with room for them to walk single file. Eventually, after what felt like forever, but probably wasn’t as long as he thought it was thanks to the dark, the tunnel started to slope upwards. It was a relief to Havoc, and Breda’s shoulders seemed to relax fractionally as well. This tunnel was claustrophobic, and Havoc would be glad to get out here.

“Any idea where we are?” Mustang called out, breaking the silence. “I’m completely lost.”

“Well, if I’m right, we’re still on the Hawkeye property, but nearing the edges of it,” the Sheriff said. “I think we’re heading towards Johnson’s house.”

“Really?” Mustang said. “Now that’s interesting.”

“I wonder how deep this tunnel is,” Thompson said. “How many properties could we pass under and the people up top have no idea?”

“Theoretically, you could have a whole maze of tunnels under the town, if they were properly structured,” Mustang said.

“A whole other society, huh?” Havoc said. “Not a bad idea.”

“It’s like the Ishvalans that were living in the sewers,” Breda said. “Living down there and making their own lives separate from those above, for the most part.”

“Never would have thought of that,” Thompson said.

“It isn’t something I think you’d have to worry about too much,” Mustang said. “The sewers were already structured, so they didn’t have to worry about keeping up anything. But for something like this you’d need either alchemists or engineers to make sure that the integrity is maintained. That’s not a skill that you’re going to find to be very common.”

Mustang frowned as he came across another one of the carved transmutation circles. “It will be interesting to see if Johnson is smart enough to have figured out how to do this on his own.”

“You think he didn’t?” Breda said.

“I don’t know yet,” Mustang said, “but it feels familiar, like alchemy I’ve seen somewhere else before.”

“What do you mean?” the sheriff asked.

“All alchemy tends to carry with it a personal touch,” Mustang said, “especially if it’s unusual or new alchemy. Even if you trace back the most basic of alchemy as far as we can, you can see that there’s a certain pattern to it. Think of it like how engineers can tell another engineer’s work by the way it’s constructed or put together. Alchemy circles are basically elaborate calculations. You can tell who developed something if you’re familiar enough with the person’s work.”

“Huh,” Thompson said. “Never knew that.”

Mustang shook his head. “It’s’ not something that most people would notice. Even amateur alchemists often don’t see it. It’s really only noticed when you get into the high-level research and development of circles.”

“And these seem familiar to you,” Breda said, pulling them back on topic.

“Yeah, but I can’t put my finger on it,” he said. “I need to get a better look at them and do some research.”

By this time, the floor was sloping up more and if felt like they were coming to an end. In fact, as they rounded a corner, they came to what appeared to be a dead end.

“What?” Thompson said. “Don’t tell me that—”

“Don’t worry,” Mustang said, clapping his hands together and placed his hands on the wall in front of them. It parted, opening up into another dark, empty space. But this was a structured place, and a staircase was clearly seen. This was, obviously, a basement, and the exited out into it

They all looked around for a moment, Mustang frowning a bit as he did.

“What is all this stuff?” Thompson asked.

“It looks like supplies to me,” the sheriff said. “And I get the feeling they’re not for anything good.”

“They’re alchemic supplies,” Mustang said. “And in an unusual quantity.”

“Just what have we stumbled into?” Havoc asked.

“More then we bargained for, but maybe exactly what we needed,” Mustang said with a confident smirk. “Let’s keep going.”

They headed towards the door of the basement, up the stairs and out of it, to emerge in a house. The house wasn’t well cared for, and definitely not clean, but Thompson and the sheriff seemed to recognize it.

“This is the old Steadman place that Johnson bought,” Thompson said.

“I thought so,” the sheriff said. “This proves quite a lot.”

“And opens up a lot of questions,” Breda said, looking around.

There were footsteps from outside, and then, suddenly there was a man in the doorway with a gun.

“Hold, Carey!” the sheriff called out, and the man lowered his gun.

“Sheriff?” he said, confused. “Thompson? Roy Mustang?”

“Yeah, it’s us,” the sheriff said. He hitched a thumb back towards the basement door. “Found a tunnel. Followed it all the way here.”

“A tunnel?” Carey said.

“Yeah. Make sure no one gets in here, alright?” the sheriff said,

“Yessir,” Carey said.

They poked around the house a little more after that, and then headed back, with just a few things that Mustang and Breda wanted to give a look over. But the day was drawing to a close. They needed to get back to the house, and the other men needed to get back to theirs.

The walk didn’t take terribly long, although Havoc’s legs were hurting him quite a bit by this point. He was definitely going to be in a lot of pain tonight when he finally stopped moving, which was incentive to keep moving. Of course, if he kept moving, he’d also end up hurting a lot, so it was a lose-lose situation all the way around.

By the time they got back to the house, Havoc was nearly hobbling, and Breda had fallen back to walk beside him, just in case. Many of the men had already left, leaving just a few that were there keeping an eye on the place. The Doctor had the wagon prepared and looked relieved to see them.

“General Mustang!” he called. “Good. If you hadn’t of shown up, I was just going to take your man on with me anyway.”

“Apologies, Doctor,” Mustang said. “We were following up on an unexpected lead.”

“Well, I’ve got a couple of the men ready to bring down the young man of yours. We’re going to load him up and…”

Havoc stopped listening to the doctor’s words, focusing instead on getting himself inside. His legs were aching fiercely now, and Breda, concerned, had decided to pull Havoc’s arm around his shoulders. Havoc didn’t mind. He really needed to sit down. His legs had had it, and there really was no choice. He was going to have to take one of those pills tonight.

Grimacing in pain, he let Breda lead him inside, all but collapsing at the small bench that was just inside the door.

“You really did a number on yourself,” Breda said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Havoc replied. “Just help me get to the mud room. Gotta get all this stuff off.”

“Nuh-uh,” Breda said. “We’re gonna get you upstairs and to the bath. You can get cleaned up, up there, and go straight to bed after that. And you are taking one of your little pills tonight. I’ll take care of any of the mud you leave behind or any of the mess you make.”

Havoc wanted to object, but really there was no fight left in him for this. He was in pain, and he was filthy and the last thing he wanted to do was clean. Breda got an arm under him again, and helped him stand up, Havoc letting out a hiss of pain as he did. They went towards the stairs, and then very slowly made their way up them. It was hard, but Havoc dug in deep and managed. Breda all but dumped him in the bathroom, telling him to strip, started the water, and then left. When he came back it was with clean clothes and a towel for him, and a bottle of some kind.

He dropped some of it in the bathwater, and watched it for a second before turning away, seemingly satisfied.

“What was that?” Havoc asked him.

“I was gonna give it to you later, but you’ve put yourself in this much pain I thought I’d go ahead. Remember that oil you got on that trip to Ishval? The one that helped you so much? I managed to get my hands on another form of it. You’re not supposed to rub this in directly, but soak in it, and it should help. Seems like a good time to try it out.” Breda explained.

“I’ll take it,” Havoc said.

Breda helped Havoc up and into the tub, and Havoc let out a hiss followed by a sigh of relief as the warm water and the oil hit his legs and back. It wasn’t an immediate relief, but it did help. Breda gathered up Havoc’s muddy things, then, and stood up. “I’ll be back later to get to this floor. If you need anything, just yell.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Breda.”

Breda waved off his thanks and left, and Havoc relaxed back into the tub. He tilted his head back and listened. He could hear other people moving around the house. The nurse seemed to be checking on Hawkeye, and then there was movement down near Fuery’s room, too. He heard walking and voices and worked out that they were taking Fuery out to get him to the doctor’s office. Havoc had wanted to say something to him before he left, but too late now. He’d just have to give him a call later or maybe go see him, once he felt up to walking that distance again.

Breda came back in at one point, still muddy himself, but less so, and took care of the floor as promised. He said that someone had finished connecting the phone, and that it was in working order. The sheriff had guards stationed around the house and the shack that Johnson had stayed at. He also had some men stationed around the house, just in case. With half his men down, Mustang had thanked the sheriff who said for him not to worry about it, that they looked after their own. Breda also said that the Nelsons were sticking around, at least until everyone was settled for the night. Mrs. Nelson was cooking up a storm, and she was keeping things clean too. Mr. Nelson had taken care of the horses and had helped with a lot of the logistics of things, such as building something around the outside entrance to the basement so that it wouldn’t get mud around it again and filling back up where they had dug. Fuery had been taken on to the doctor’s office, and Hawkeye was sleeping again, the stuff that Johnson had used apparently knocking her for a loop. Havoc appreciated the update, and thanked his friend before he left again, to take of whatever else there was do.

Eventually, Havoc was ready to get out of the tub, and he managed to pull himself up and out of it fairly well. He still had a good strength in his arms and was well versed in relying on them more than his legs. Shifting the burden to them and giving his legs a rest wasn’t too much of a switch. He dressed himself, but Mr. Nelson appeared to help him to the room, the rest of them being far too muddy. He settled into the bed, Mrs. Nelson coming up not long afterward with some food for him and handing him his bottle of pills. Havoc ate, took one, and then laid down to sleep as best he could. His legs were still screaming at him, but he didn’t want to take another pill.

He heard the others getting showers, the bathroom and other floors getting cleaned, and Mustang checking on Hawkeye as he drifted. Breda came in at one point, and made Havoc take something else that helped him get to sleep better. As Havoc drifted off, his last thought was that he sure wanted to get back home soon.

By the time Havoc woke the next day, the sun was already well up. He groaned as he woke up, groggy from the medicine he had taken, and grimaced as he felt the pain in his legs. That wasn’t a good sign, although there wasn’t much he could do about it at this point. Slowly and carefully, he rolled out of bed and dressed himself before carefully making his way to the bathroom and then downstairs.

Hawkeye was at the kitchen table when he got there, also looking groggy and nursing a cup of coffee. Falman was at the stove, cooking. Hawkeye gave Havoc a smile as he came in, and as she turned her head towards him, he let out a bit of an exclamation at her face.

One side of it was covered in deep blues and purples and looked like it hurt. There were a couple of cuts near her eyes. Her hair looked like she had maybe run her fingers through it, and she was wearing what appeared to be one of Mustang’s shirts instead of her usual tightly fitting ones.

“Geeze, Riza, good morning I guess,” he said.

She gave him a tired smile. “It’s practically afternoon,” she said, “but yes, good morning.”

“How are you feeling?” Havoc asked her as he sat down. Falman put a cup of coffee in front of him, and he nodded his thanks to the other man.

“Hungover and sore,” was her answer. “I have no idea what he used on me, but the effects of it linger.” She looked at him. “How are you feeling? I was told your legs were in a lot of pain last night.”

“Still are,” Havoc said, “although nowhere near as bad. I don’t plan on running anywhere anytime soon, though.”

“No, I wouldn’t think so,” Hawkeye said. She paused. “Thank you, Jean, for all that you did yesterday.”

Havoc waved it off and swallowed the sip of coffee he was taking. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s just what we do.”

Riza merely smiled back at him, tiredness still in her eyes.

“So, where’s Mustang and Breda? And any word on Fuery?” Havoc asked.

“The general called this morning to check on Fuery,” Falman said. “He’s doing fine, nothing wrong with his spine. He just pulled a few things in his back, but that, his ribs, his arm, and his head should heal up fine with time.”

He walked over to them with a pan and slid some eggs onto their plates before returning to the stove to tend to another pan. “The Sheriff called this morning as well. Breda and Mustang took off after that. I’m not entirely sure why, but I think something may have happened or been discovered at Johnson’s house or shack. They headed out to investigate.”

Falman returned to them, sliding some sort of hash browns onto their plates, before returning, again, to the stove. “They told me to stay here and keep an eye on things. I’ve had the basement door locked, just in case, and Hayate patrolling the house. Nothing has happened, except for the men who kept an eye on the property last night asking me for some coffee, and Mrs. Nelson calling and saying that she’s going to bring some more food by, as well as our clothes.”

He brought over another pan and pulled them out some bacon. “She bundled up all our dirty clothes last night and took them with her, insistent on cleaning them.”

Hawkeye smiled. “That sounds like Mrs. Nelson,” she said. “She was always doing things for others.”

The three of them ate quietly together, Hayate making an appearance for food one time, but otherwise not begging off of them like he liked to do. It was clear that he was focused on his job of patrolling the house. It was a couple of hours later when they heard a sharp bark from him, and a skittering of his feet on the floor. Falman was the first one up, a hand on his gun, just in case. Hayate didn’t seem to be alarmed, though, which was a good sign. But after everything that had happened, no one could really blame them for not being cautions. Hawkeye, too, had her gun out and ready to go, making her way to the entranceway living room, just in case. Havoc stayed seated on the couch, his gun half hidden. Sitting or standing it make no difference to him. He had gotten to be a good shot either way.

It turned out, though, to just be Breda, who stomped his boots on the stoop, opened the door, and slammed it behind him. He looked at his welcoming committee for a moment, and then carried on as all of them lowered their guns. After all, he had to have expected this as well. All of them were a bit paranoid normally. Now it was in overdrive.

“You’re back sooner than I expected,” Falman said. “I thought you would have been gone longer than that to look over all of the information found in Johnson’s house and shack.”

“Johnson’s dead,” Breda said bluntly as he stepped into the living room. That sentence immediately had all of their attention.

“What?” Havoc said, clearly startled. How could Johnson be dead? He had seen him delivered to the prison himself, seen the deputy take custody of him, seen the first aid done on the shoulder where Havoc shot him. “He couldn’t have bled out!”

“No,” Breda said. “He didn’t. When the sheriff went in this morning, he found the guard there, also dead, his throat slit. Johnson had been murdered in a similar manner.”

“Who was the guard?” Hawkeye asked.

“Robert Harper,” Breda said. “Sheriff says he’s got a family. Young. He wasn’t looking forward to breaking this to them.”

“Oh, no,” Hawkeye said.

“that’s not all,” Breda said. “A man named Brandon Pruett was guarding the shack. He was also found dead this morning, throat slit, not far from the ashes that was all that was left of the cabin. It was burned to the ground.”

They all exchanged looks at that. This wasn’t a one-time thing; this was definitely someone covering up something.

Breda wasn’t finished. “The two men guarding his house last night, John Yuerisk and Adam Presson were also murdered with the same MO. The house there was burned to the ground too, but it looked as if the basement had been cleaned out first.”

“What about the tunnel that led from his house to this one?” Falman asked.

“Collapsed,” Breda said. “It looks like it was done on purpose too. Mustang is going back through it, reconstructing it and looking for the plates that held those transmutation circles. He told me to meet him back here.”

Havoc ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, man, what a mess.”

Breda nodded. “The sheriff has asked for our help with this. With all of the stranded passengers, the pool of who could have done it is pretty wide. It’s too much for him to handle alone, especially with the deaths of those four men.” He looked at Falman. “You worked in Investigations for a while and worked with Hughes. Mustang wants you down there helping.”

“Of course,” Falman said, and left immediately to go get his uniform jacket and whatever else he needed.

“What about us?” Hawkeye said. “We can help out too.”

Breda held his hands up. “That you need to take up with the general. Personally, I think it might be a good thing if we all went, but Falman can at least get things started.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, back towards the front. “I did borrow a small cart and horse, just so you two wouldn’t have to walk the whole way if you can convince the general to let you go. I also brought back the laundry that Mrs. Nelson took with her, and some food she sent along.”

“Bring it in,” Hawkeye said. She looked over at Havoc, her gaze determined even with her bruised face. “Think you’re good for it?”

Havoc grinned at her. “Oh yeah, I can help out with this,” he said. “Better than sitting around uselessly.”

“Good,” Hawkeye said. “Then we’ll be ready to go as soon as the General gets here.”

It was clear that, whether Mustang was in favor of this or not, Hawkeye planned on being involved, and there was really no arguing with her on that. Breda went to unload the cart and eat something, and Havoc and Hawkeye went upstairs to change. They ran into Falman on the way down, who they admonished to be careful on his way to town. Hawkeye called for him to wait, and then followed him down the stairs, calling Hayate over to her. Havoc could hear her instructing the little dog to go with Falman and guard him, and then the two were sent on their way.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for anyone to go alone,” Havoc heard her explain to Breda. “If none of us are going with him, then Hayate is a good choice.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Breda said.

Breda hauled the laundry upstairs where they went through it, claiming all of their uniform pieces. Havoc had a bit of confusion between his pants and Falman’s, but Falman was thinner than he was, so that was quickly figured out. By the time they were dressed and ready, there was an odd sound from the basement. Breda made his way down to the basement while Hawkeye took up a position looking out back, towards the entrance they had found. Havoc stayed in between, ready to give assistance as needed.

Suddenly Hawkeye called out “All clear!” and lowered her gun. “it’s just the General.”

Sure enough, about the time Breda got to the top of the basement stairs, the backdoor opened to admit a very filthy General Mustang. He was covered in dirt and mud, and honestly, it made sense. Those tunnels had been made of dirt and the like. Of course, he would get filthy reconstructing them.

“Any luck?” Breda said, as Mustang headed straight for the washroom.

Mustang tossed something to Breda before he moved into the washroom fully. “Not really. I found part of one of the plaques, if you can call it anything useful.” He started to strip down in the washroom, clearly not wanting to get mud everywhere. “Other than that, nothing useful at all. I made sure to collapse the tunnel back again. I don’t want anyone else using it. But I will say this,” he came out, a towel wrapped around him, “that tunnel was definitely collapsed with alchemy.”

He started to head for the stairs, and then paused, looking at Hawkeye and Havoc. “Why are you two in full uniform?”

“Because we’re going to help with the investigation,” Hawkeye said.

Mustang frowned. “No. Absolutely not.”

“And why not?” Hawkeye demanded.

“I won’t have the two of you exhausting yourselves like that.” Mustang said.

“It won’t exhaust us,” Hawkeye said.

“I said no,” Mustang said and started walking out and towards the stairs. “I’m going to shower, and then Breda and I are going to help with the investigation.” He left, leaving the three of them in the kitchen, his steps echoing on the stairs.

Hawkeye stood there for a moment, then her eyes hardened, and she strode after him, purposeful in her walk.

Breda and Havoc stayed put and stayed quiet for a moment.

“How much you wanna bet she just walks in on him?” Havoc asked.

There was the sudden noise of a door being flung open, a strangled shout of “Hawkeye, what the--!” before the last word was lost in the slamming of the door.

“Why would I bet on a sure thing?” Breda said.

Havoc shrugged. “What some food?”

“Sure.”

By the time that Mustang and Hawkeye came back down the stairs, Mustang was a bit grumpy but not arguing the point anymore, Hawkeye apparently presenting her case to him well. They ate, and then all four of them headed out, Havoc and Hawkeye riding in the back of the cart that Breda had borrowed. It wasn’t a long ride into town, but once there it was clear to see that people weren’t happy and that things were tense.

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Breda said.

“Yeah, we do, but we’re going to do it.” Mustang replied.

Although they weren’t much of a military presence, having all of them there did help to bring order to the chaos. Falman already had a system going, and so they jumped in and helped to smooth it along. Falman handled a majority of the interviews, recording names, statements, and various other details. Havoc had never really had the chance to see this side of Falman in play before, not like this, and it was fascinating to watch him. He understood, now, why he had been such an asset to Investigations and why General Armstrong was trying her best to get him back to Briggs.

Breda, likewise, was also an asset. He helped to look over the statements that they were given, organizing and classifying them. He had piles and piles of them, but he also had a system going. Havoc had a feeling that he and Falman were going to be working late into the night on this, like a giant puzzle that they needed to put together and figure out. Havoc was mostly on organizing duty, although he had his own ways to soften people up before they went into be questioned. Mustang oversaw the whole operation, Hawkeye a step behind him, like she always was, or going somewhere with the authority of his orders.

There were a few other soldiers that had been on the train, as well as a few that were former soldiers, and they were quickly drafted into helping with crowd control, after they had passed through their own questionings. The sheriff and his men were working with Breda on classifying a lot of the information and making some follow up questions that they needed to tend to later.

All in all, it was several hours work that stretched into the night for all of them. No one was happy with that, from the people who were helping, to the people who were being questioned, to the townspeople. It didn’t help that there were more than a few people in town who were in mourning. With four men dead, murdered, no one could blame them for that. It was probably the biggest tragedy this town had seen in a very long time, if at all.

Havoc could sense that some of the townspeople blamed them, and he could understand why. The military was often at the center of trouble, and Mustang and anyone associated with him definitely tended towards that. It was just the way it was. But others, although unhappy, seemed to recognize that it wasn’t their fault, even though they were involved.

All in all, it made for a very difficult and long day, one that had all of them tired and dead on their feet by the end of it. They ended up borrowing the cart again to head back home, something that turned out to be a good thing, as the doctor sent Fuery back with them, saying that he still needed to be careful, but that he would be fine overall.

The days after that moved quickly. Mustang made call after call out to Eastern Headquarters and to Central. There was a lot to report on, after all, and it took a bit of finagling to make it work so that Hawkeye’s secret wasn’t exposed. It was written off, it seemed, as if Johnson was under the impression that she knew more about Mustang’s alchemy then she did, and that he could get it from her. With Johnson dead, well, he couldn’t refute it. Of course, anyone in the know knew differently, but there were precious few of them—that they knew of.

Hawkeye grew increasingly tense over the days. None of them knew if Johnson had managed to give knowledge of her tattoo to anyone or not. There was no way to tell if other people knew about it or not. All that could be known was that Johnson knew. It was understandable that she was high strung about it. Mustang was too, and that put the rest of the men on edge. Add to that, that it was still a mystery how those supplies in Johnson’s basement got moved with no one able to travel, and it was a true mystery, and a chilling one at that.

It was at least a week later before the military was able to get anyone into the town. It was another week before the rail lines started running again. The rains had caused massive damage over every region they had been hanging above, and crews were hard at work trying to repair things. The team did, though, eventually go on to their original destination, but by the time they had gotten there, the trail had grown cold. Without anything else that they could do, the team returned to Central. They were truly grateful to be back home.

But Havoc couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t over yet. So much had happened, and so much was still hanging in the balance and left unknown. There was no way that this was permanently over. Something else had to happen. It didn’t make sense otherwise. There were too many loose ends for his liking, and if there were too many for him, then there were definitely too many for Mustang.

Havoc thought about it, as he sat in his apartment, looking out the window at the night, and flicked his toothpick away. Yep. Something was definitely coming. The question was, what and when?

And, what to do in the meantime?

His hand reached out for the phone, and he rattled off an address to the operator. “Hey—Rebecca? Wanna go out tomorrow night?”

#FMA Big Bang 2021 #fullmetal alchemist Big Bang 2021 #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma #royai #riza hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Jean Havoc #Heymans Breda #Vato Falman #Kain Fuery #black hayate

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katiebruce · 4 years

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adios, amigo.

Well, 2020. What is there to say that hasn’t already been said, tweeted or Instagram-ed a thousand and two times about you? I’ll save us all the generic stuff—“unprecedented,” “nightmarish,” “absurd”—yes, 2020 was all of those things, but on a deeper, more personal level, there is so much more I have to say that doesn’t fit quite into those clichés.

So, this will be my attempt to document and reflect upon one of the strangest years I’ve encountered in my thirty-one years on this planet. Buckle up, buttercup.

Like many others before me have frequently observed, the way I spend my New Year’s Eve has always set the tone for the year to come, and boy, was this year a picture-perfect example of exactly that. Because I had to work on January first, I spent my New Year’s Eve at home watching a depressing movie with T, quietly kissing on the cold back patio as fireworks went off in the distance. I remember feeling both happy and sad about this evening (a duality that was a major theme for me for the fifty-two weeks to come, if only I had known). I was sad not to be celebrating my favorite holiday and even remember telling T that I didn’t want the year to come to be one I spent not going out, staying home, and becoming reclusive as I finished up the stressful process of finishing my MFA thesis in the course of ten (or, what I thought would be ten) short months.

But on the other hand, being held in T’s arms, I remembered feeling so happy that I could have this little quiet holiday—something that felt so private and personal—so entirely our own. It really set the tone for our relationship for the year, and for the obstacles we not only overcame together but dominated, one right after the next.

January was cold, snowy, and full of flight cancellations, which I remember to be something worth celebration at the time. I stayed home and snuggled my way into Aquarius season, the time for me and my brethren to shine, feeling positive that I had lived my thirtieth year to one of great satisfaction and maximum travels taken. (If only I had known then that that late-January El Paso layover where my crew and I walked across the border into Juarez to eat street tacos and laugh over Mezcal would be one of the only times I would leave the country for the year, well, I might have taken a few shots of tequila and really enjoyed my stay abroad just a bit longer).

February came, and with it, the promise of friends. My darling Kristopher, as always, flew to Chicago on the day of (also the day I completed and passed my eighth recurrent [!]) and, thanks to my other darling baby, Nicole, scored tickets to one of the highly coveted format reunion tour shows happening in March* for me, her, and my momma.

(*It did not, in fact, take place in March).

I turned thirty-one in the way I’ve come accustomed too—surrounded by my favorite people (this year at Dorians—a jazz club to end all jazz clubs) too drunk and too smiley to even coherently remember the evening properly. As much fun as I remember having, I told T that I thought it was my last year to host some sort of birthday gathering, and to hold me to it come next year. (He did very well—a few weeks later, after spotting an ad in a discarded newspaper for the Chicago tour of Moulin Rouge happening on my birthday weekend, we bought tickets and I sat peacefully with the fact that one of my new year (or, new age) resolutions was so quickly and poignantly adapted).

By this time, I was already deep in the throes of my first thesis writing course, meaning that I was pretty stressed out all of the time and surely a misery to be around (sorry to those of you who were). Basically, in three semesters’ time, I was expected to draft, edit, and rewrite a fully formed novel (70,000+ words) and the idea of accomplishing such a feat felt like a ton of bricks being carried on my shoulders. I had at least four mental breakdowns in the beginning of the year (again, we all know what lays ahead for the year, I know—but at the time, this seemed like an unbearable amount of stress for one person to have to carry. The joke is not lost on me).

In the coming weeks, things began to get even weirder. Covid scares began sprouting up in cities all around us, and as the government asked people to stay at home, airline ticket prices became massively reduced, so more people began traveling. I mean, this shit was like spring break on acid—it was hugely stressful, and though the threat of the pandemic had yet to reach Chicago, I felt more and more at risk with each passing day as careless amounts of people cashed in on what they thought was the deal of a lifetime.

By the time March reached its midpoint, I, like so many others, was terrified. We had no PPE at work—literally nothing. No gloves, masks, or even hand wipes. Cleaning the aircraft still wasn’t considered a “no-go” item, as far as regulatory practices go. I remember watching the news on my layovers only to keep myself up at night wondering if the virus was going to take hold of me or anyone around me, and if so, how long until they would recover, or perhaps wouldn’t.

St. Patrick’s Day came, and after fighting about whether or not to go out with friends (we didn’t—and for the record, T and I rarely fight—but this was, after all, his first St. Patrick’s Day as a Chicagoan—so his resentment was more than justified) we saw a matinee movie (Onward) and while in the theater, read about how Chicago restaurants, as a precaution, were shutting down the next day due to rising concerns about the spread of the virus. We reacted by grabbing drinks & lunch at one of our favorite neighborhood eateries and tipping the waitstaff more heavily than I think I’ve ever tipped anyone in my life (not mentioning this to brag, or whatever—just remembering what it was like to feel utterly helpless and unsure of what to do or what was to come—we had to find our positivity in some way, and on that day, this was how we saw fit, and it helped).

Then it all sort of happened at once—Lauren’s store was closed with no impending reopening date. The grocery stores (and I swear to god, I will never forget this) became a madhouse—people taking things out of other people’s carts when they weren’t looking. I remember going into Mariano’s with T and insisiting we tie bandanas around our faces for safety, feeling like a goddamn bank robber about to make a heist. But there was nothing left to even take. Frantically, we got what we could and got out of there, and I went home to have a full-fledged panic attack about the state of the world we were currently living in and what we were going to do if things didn’t turn around quickly.

As if overnight, everyone cancelled their airline tickets. It was for the better, and though it put my job in serious jeopardy, I was in massive support of it but still felt an eerie sadness looming around the countless empty airports, airplanes, hotels and city streets. There were times when my crew and I were the only guests in a place—times when I had zero passengers on a revenue flight. And then came the mass flight cancellations—and I mean mass. Everyday became a battle of anxiety as to what was going to happen to my job in the next twenty-four hours, and then cooing my stressed-out thoughts to sleep, only to relive the anxiety with every phone buzz waiting to find out if I had lost my job overnight. By mid-spring, I was hugely considering dropping out for a period of time, just due to the stress of it all, but thanks to support from my friends, family and T, I chose to stick it out and roll with as many punches as I could until I was finally knocked-out.

Quarantines were happening all around me, and without the ability to travel or the (former) grueling expectations of maintaining a social life, I started to reconnect with myself in ways that felt both organic and new, yet much like returning home after a long time away. Lauren taught me to knit, and we celebrated her birthday on the floor of our apartment in an Indian-food induced daze renting Emma and making thousands of tiny knots onto needles that would eventually become blankets. We took walks, did puzzles, and Lauren drove me to and from the airport on the rare occasion that I actually had a flight to work, as the CTA had, unfortunately, become a cesspool of targeted attacks on flight crew members (seriously) because they were often the only person in any given train car.

A rare glimpse of optimism then presented itself via two different opportunities: a chance to take a ninety-day leave from work, and a job offer in the form of editing a book for publication. I said yes to both and hoped that I would be able to take a step back and deal with the crumbling world around me easier with both of these opportunities now on my horizon.

This period of the year (May-July) started off swimmingly. Knitting, reading, and even smoking weed for the first time in nearly a decade (I took two hits and spent the rest of the evening sinking into the couch painfully aware of how bad I am at breathing and worrying that I might stop at any given moment). I fell in love with yoga and felt myself loosening up parts of my body and my mind that had been twisted into a series of knots for god only knows how long. I spent days reading in the sun, baking bread like everyone else in the world, and learning to make my own pies. Things were going really well, and I was even ahead in school, now on track to graduate in August—when things started getting heated.

I’m not going to go on a rant about race, although I very much could, but I will say this—the fact that we are still in a race war in this country in the year 2020 (and even now, a few days into 2021) makes me so sick to my stomach I don’t know what to do. Every injustice that passes by us, overshadowed by the next untimely death or wrongdoing makes me angry in ways that I cannot even fathom putting into words. It burns the color red that is so hot and so vibrant that I can see it soaking through my eyelids even when I squeeze them shut. This country lost a lot of love from me this year, and even more respect. There are not only things we can do better—there are things we must change. And honestly, most days, I don’t think most of the country is ready to not only admit that but to also work for. And that not only sickens me, but depresses the living hell out of me. I feel so stunted all of the time when I picture a world so at peace with its own injustice. It’s just so unfair.

I watched as the world was (rightfully, although woefully) destroyed around me. My neighborhood turned into a desolate, looted shadow of itself—one where Lauren and I could sit on our back patio safely until dusk, when the crime and gunfire became so rabid that on occasions, we sat in the living room in total darkness, listening only to the radio, afraid to let anybody at street level see that we were, indeed, at home. The opportunists that took advantage of the message of this movement made me numb to such a large demographic of the population, and I found myself crying myself to sleep enough times that I thought it might be time to leave the warzone that had become Chicago for a little while as escape down to Florida. So, we packed our bags and left. It is not lost on me that so many did not have this option, and for so many minorities, just simply existing during this time was enough to cause assault. I know I am fortunate—I carry it like lead in my pockets every day.

While in Florida, the first retailers began to reopen and I found myself waiting in an hour-long line to buy soaps and hand sanitizers, and to get a glimpse of what this “new normal” might look like when things started picking back up again. Like many, it was jarring to see empty tables, capacity limits on items, cashiers behind plexiglass sheets shouting to be heard over both the physical barrier and the cloth one strung across their faces.

By the time T & I arrived home, Lauren was already making plans to reopen her store “safely” and I felt sorry for her. How could anything be safe when nothing had changed? Why were companies acting as if business could go on like before—even though nothing had gotten better?

My final months of my MFA were just ahead of me, and I had one month remaining free from work to finish my first full-length novel, and I all I really remember is stress stress stress.

And then Andrew, being Andrew, offered a glimmer of hope, in the form of a drive-in concert celebrating fifteen years of Everything in Transit in southern California, a mere matter of hours from where Nicole had been working. It took a matter of two or maybe three text messages to confirm that we would be attending, and once the ticket was purchased I practically packed my bags and headed off to visit her and try and make light of my heart.

As suspected, the trip was magical. Being around Nicole, per usual, was magical. My heart felt so fully aligned seeing a little piece of her story and getting to experience her way of life once more—drunken hot springs and all their glory. There truly are few things in my life I love more than sitting in the passenger’s seat as Nicole drives us all over the country, and experiencing it again felt so right and so perfect that I honestly thought it was one of the happiest experiences of my life. Because I had requested so, she drove me all the way to Venice Beach the day of the concert so we could see where the infamous album cover was taken. We ate cbd gummies and listened to jack’s and ate in-n-out burger like our lives depended on it. When the concert began, it was eerie, yet hopeful to see all the new protocols of something that had become so familiar to me in my former life. Drinks were ordered through an app and delivered, as was merch, and clapping was replaced by the exuberant honking of car horns. We streamed the sound through the radio and laid the in the back of Nicole’s converted SUV as we cried and sang along to the songs that made everything, even just for one night, feel like it was all going to be okay again. We ended the evening marking ourselves with our first stick and poke tattoos—hers a sun to my moon, positioned to kiss one another when we stand next to each other on our preferred selfie side (lol). I left worried about how long it might be before I could feel her warm embrace again, the embrace of one of the truest friends I’ll ever know, but also recognizing that we were lucky to have had such an experience at all during such an insane year and feeling eternally grateful for its memory.

The last weeks of what I referred to as my Rumspringa were ahead of me, and one sunny afternoon I wrote the final pages of my novel. In a mad rush to edit, revise and complete my portfolio for official review, I never really sat with myself and what I had accomplished or congratulated myself; I wrote a book in seven months’ time, and even though I am unhappy with it (more on that later) there’s no denying that I actually did it. I did it, and nobody can ever take that away from me; it’s an accomplishment I will forever have, and it’s all my own. And I need to remind myself of that. I need to let myself feel proud.

I was back to work in September and taking a huge pay cut, though working the same hours. It was stressful, but once I found out my portfolio had been accepted and I, indeed, would be receiving my MFA I felt a bit at peace for a while. I had let my hair grow long all summer, and all but stopped wearing make-up (mascara makes me feel entirely dolled up now). I felt in an odd way free—almost bare.

The fall came and went fairly quickly—the weekends alone at home and grocery-store-only outings feeling more and more like normalcy. It had been such a tough, trying year, that it suddenly felt nice to just stand still for a bit. So, I did.

In a brief amount of time, I watched (safely) as friends got married, got sick, got older and fell in love. I watched, with great anxiety, as our country voted in the most important election of our lives so far and took the deepest breath I’d ever taken as I watched that man face defeat—although he’s yet to swallow it. I watched as ex-lovers had babies, got engaged and never really stopped to think twice about any of it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the safety (and not in a lame, “safety-net” sort of way) of having T in my life has turned me into someone who not only craves quiet time at home, but really also sort of fell right damn into it very easily, though unexpectedly. I’ve heard the saying so many times before, but you really don’t realize everything is different once you find the right fit because that place feels like it’s always been home. I am grateful to not only have that now and moving forward, but most certainly throughout the trying, unstable times of 2020. In fact, I don’t know how I would have survived without it.

The holidays always creep up on me, and after being dealt a shitty hand from work (don’t even get me started, I’m still fuming) they came that much quicker. T & I were lucky enough to spend the holidays back home in the swamp, visiting my parents and his Dad. The time went by fast but was relaxing, fun, and reenergizing. We spent New Year’s Eve playing giant Jenga and yard Yahtzee with my parents in the cool, tropical winter of Florida. It was nice. We got tired right around 11, so we laid in bed until midnight talking, staying awake just long enough to share our new year’s kiss. It felt right—a proper send off to such a strange and unusual year. I was exctly where I needed to be—wrapped up in a blanket of T’s embrace, comfy in a bed in my childhood bedroom.

So now, here it is: 2021—the supposed upgrade to 2020, or so everybody secretly hopes. So now, as I sit here, drinking a warm, soy-chai latte (homemade!) I find myself having great difficulty setting an intention for the days ahead of me. I feel so beaten and bruised and physically fatigued for no reason but the experiences of 2020 and the courses they ran all over my life. I’m feeling reflective of having finished yet another year of my life (and my Saturn return! Halleluj!) and finding it hard to be anything but fatigued. I guess it’s from the year that’s just finished—more so than any other year it physically pained me at times to be alive at times. I’m missing so many of my friends who I haven’t been able to see for extended months at a time now. I am craving a sense of normalcy, of safety, so that I can feel better about making plans, but as for right now I just don’t have it. I am quietly trying to make subtle changes within myself and how I react to the world around me, but just like the start of this new year, that process is a slow one.

One of my resolutions (though I’m growing to hate that word more and more with each passing year) is to get back to writing. I had a good, albeit stressful, thing going while still in school, and after finishing my novel and receiving feedback, I couldn’t shake the feeling of absolute failure. It’s still there—it’s really hard to try and celebrate an accomplishment when you don’t feel like your work was good enough to warrant anything at all—especially not a fine arts degree. I never said I was a fiction writer—I just wanted to get better at writing fiction—so I need to remember that and allow myself to veer away from that for a while, to work on something new. Something I’ve been saying I’m not ready to write for many years now, something that when I now say that is just a plain old lie: My memoir. I’m ready to close the chapter in my life where I am a flight attendant, so the timing feels more than perfect.

I learned so much about what I want to do within my career and what sort of boundaries I don’t want to place on myself—and I’m trying, I really am. T gifted me with my own pottery wheel for Christmas and we are going to set it up this weekend and I am so excited to get my hands muddy and start creating. Until this year, I didn’t realize how much I needed a creative outlet other than writing—I had been depending on it for too long, my little cup felt bone dry. So, I’m excited to see where this new hobby takes me and how it influences my ability to return to the blank page—quite literally.

I know this year will not be the quick fix that so many are hopeful for—I think quite the opposite, actually. But here are some things I know for sure will happen: I will move out of my apartment and in with T. We will then, immediately get a dog and a new apartment. This, alone, feels like enough to fill the pages of the blank year ahead of us. I will go long periods of time without seeing my loved ones, and without traveling (bleak as this lifestyle may be). I will write, even when it’s hard to. I will publish something—I’m at work submitting pieces as we speak, and though the process is slow, I can tell this is my opportunity—I am ready t fight for it. I will turn 32, and the numerology of my life will seem more aligned. I will spend my birthday at home, alone, because of course Moulin Rouge has now been cancelled (I’m fine with it). I will learn more about myself the more I use my hands to create, to plant, to sculpt, to mold. I will love with fervor. I will smile more, because it’s actually healthier for you, even though my black heart hates to admit it. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to attend a live concert, though I realize this might be wishful thinking at this point. I will do mushrooms and giggle with the colors. I will cry. I will hurt and I will cause harm. But through it all, I will persevere. Because if 2020 taught me anything, it’s that I am capable of regenerating into new versions of myself that I didn’t even have the time to dream up. I can adapt to whatever is thrown at me, though it will often times feel impossible. I can, and will, create. I can be reborn (as many times as I’d like to, too).

So, thanks, 2020, for teaching me more about myself than any other period of five years has ever taught me. I definitely feel like I’ve been through the ringer a couple of times, yet I find myself still standing day after day. It must be the way a domino feels, standing up, time after time, knowing that something right in front of you is about to knock you down. But instead of thinking about what I’m bringing down with me, I’m thinking of the entire collective as a whole—we are all experiencing this together. And maybe, just maybe, on the other side, there’s a kid with a smile waiting to do it all over again. And that’s perhaps where the beauty lays: we have to tear everything down in order to do better, be better, make change. Nobody likes to catch fire, but everyone loves rising from the ashes. We’ll all get to where we’re headed, one way or another. And eventually, I hope, we’ll see that the other side is better than we could have ever dreamt of.

I hope that 2021 is a bridge that brings us from destruction to creation. I hope the journey is long, so we all appreciate the outcome.

I love you all and wish you warmth and wellness into this year and beyond.

Happy new year—honor the circumstances you have around you and let them help you grow.

#me #personal

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from-home · 4 years

Text

𑁍 MARK LEE┊ 𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 / one ˎˊ˗

𑁍 summary : the one where mark lee time travels back and forth throughout the past and future with his crush, (y/n) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 pairing : mark lee x older!reader (by like three years lmao) ˎˊ˗

𑁍 word count : 6.7k ˎˊ˗

𑁍 genre : fluff, comedy (i hope??), minimal angst, time travel!au ˎˊ˗

𑁍 warnings : swearing, unrequited love (i know that shit hurts omg), my humour is ass, mark gives me slight second hand embarrassment in this, bad writing??, i gave up like halfway through this lol, first time writing a fic like this pls have mercy, it’s almost 2:30 am i'm too tired to proof read fuck ˎˊ˗

𑁍 a/n : first chapter of my first ever fic on here hehe - idk when the next chapter might come tbh but hopefully i’ll continue this series for my own enjoyment! in the meantime, uni still kicks my ass >:(( but anyway, enjoy and i hope that at least someone will find joy with this! ˎˊ˗

[ 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟬 : 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝟬 ]

when your pastor dad’s best friend was the biggest nerd in high school and became an eccentric scientist

O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

What a beautiful Pussy you are,

You are,

You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!

If he could write like that, maybe Mark wouldn't need to be here in this boring literature class of his. Don't get him wrong, he liked writing, and he liked the way he could express his emotions through a pen and paper. But for the twenty-one-year-old boy who could barely sit still in one place without his mind wandering off into four different dimensions, it was hard to be interested in whatever the professor was rambling on about. Maybe Professor Jung was telling the story of how she met Dylan Thomas' widow's sister's friend's cousin, and how much of an artistic impact it had on her. She had told the story a good three times in the past two months - Mark kept count.

Yeah, writing was fun and all, but literature class specifically was boring and dull to him. "Oh but Mark, why take this course then?" one might ask. But one should also know that it was a necessary course if Mark wanted to earn his oh-so-coveted diploma.

Curse him for majoring in creative writing. His dad always did wonder why writers even bother writing when the bible exists.

But maybe one day, an hour and a half of John Keats would produce him some ideas for a romantic poem that he could write and gift off to his love of seven years... and counting.

(Y/N), the shiniest of all pearls and the most beautiful of all Mona Lisa's, the older woman and her beauty often left Mark stunned and helplessly in love. He first met her when he was fourteen, when she had been introduced as his seventeen-year-old tutor. She was so pretty back then, and still was now. In fact, it was as if she didn't age at all!

Someone who resembled a goddess like (Y/N) deserved only the most romantic of all romantic poems, and Mark Lee made it a mission to be the one to write it for her. He was so helplessly in love with her that he was able to channel his feelings for her into five different written forms: poems, song lyrics, an 'A for effort?' drawing of her, letters, and anonymous blog posts about how "unrequited love hurts".

Sure, those blog posts were anonymous, but as good as Mark thought he was at hiding his feelings for her, everybody in town and their ancestors' spirits knew about the big crush Mark had on her. But no one bothered to tell (Y/N) about her not-so-secret admirer and nobody bothered to let Mark know that his mysterious crush wasn’t as well-kept to himself as he thought it was.

But it was cute. Not the part where Mark slowly died on the inside as each day passed without his feelings being returned (that was pretty sad, everybody acknowledged), but the part where the adoration in his eyes were so clear for (Y/N). Legend went that he held stars in his eyes whenever his gaze rested on the older woman - like, actual stars from the galaxy. Or so the first-hand accounts go.

Mark Lee was a talented and hardworking boy, that much was a shared sentiment by everybody in town. He excelled at all subjects, mowed the lawn twice just because he thought he missed a spot, gave it his all at church every Sunday by rapping and dancing in the name of Jesus Christ until he was reduced to sweat and threatening to rip his dress shirt off - he was a jack of all trades. There were even rumours that whenever it was time for a 'Make a Wish' patient to... make a wish in heaven, he would dress up as Spiderman and visit them in the hospital to make their final dreams come true. So maybe that's why it was so endearing, his one-sided love for his noona. If there was one person who could jump over that hurdle of "just friends" and out of the friend zone, it had to be Mark, the boy who's always gave it his all in everything ever since he moved here from Canada when he was twelve. It was one thing to have this crush that you desperately wanted to be returned, but it was another to have the whole town cheering for you - it said a lot about Mark's character.

Which is why! There was no other perfect test subject for Scientist Kim, the local eccentric scientist who was obsessed with creating his "next big invention". He also happened to be the best friend of the town's pastor (weird combination, everybody knows), courtesy of their high school days and a misunderstanding over a carton of milk. The town's pastor also oh-so-coincidentally happened to be Mark's father, who had lived in Korea for all his life until he moved to Canada so his wife could give birth to baby Mark. He ended up moving back to his hometown, however, thus creating a new relationship between his best friend and son.

Now Scientist Kim - who liked to go by "Cabbage" as a homage to his idol, Charles Babbage - didn’t really care about Mark's painful one-sided love, but he knew the boy could never say no to his father's best friend from high school, so there was no one better to try out his experiments and inventions than Mark. Like, there was literally no one else at all - the whole town swore Cabbage was out of his mind and were still waiting for the day the newspaper would come out with a headline that he's been charged with involuntary manslaughter. Everybody would be disappointed, but not surprised. But such an incident hadn’t happened yet, so for now, Cabbage was still freely working hard everyday to successfully complete and unveil the invention that would propel him to "the front page of every science magazine and a Nobel Prize in Physics".

And it just so happened to be today, October 30th 2020, when Mark received a phone call from his dad's best friend in the middle of class. He was glad he kept his phone on vibrate, but god, was it distracting. To answer or not to? Why now of all times? Right, he forgot that some people don't have anything else to do with their lives other than... creating things that usually end up on fire by the end of it. You know, now that he thought back on it, the last time Mark willingly participated in Cabbage's experiment which involved some tinfoil, antennas, and laser beam machining, it left Mark's right shoe on fire - thank God he had brought a fire extinguisher over to Cabbage’s house with him.

Just that memory alone convinced Mark to ignore the call, nearly forgetting about it once it had stopped ringing if not for the fact he received another call just seconds later. "What is this, an infatuation?" Mark grumbled to himself, before glancing up at the front to see if Professor Jung was distracted enough for him to take this call without her noticing. It didn't help that he sat three rows away from the front. But she still seemed to be rambling on about how much she loved Dylan Thomas' works, and that was a sign for him to accept the call. He kept his voice to a hushed whisper, however, "Hello-"

"Mark! You have to come over!" There was no way Professor Jung did not hear that screech that came from his phone. He glanced up nervously, noticing his classmate's startled gazes on him. But his eyes wandered over to the front, and judging by how Professor Jung was now going on about Dylan Thomas' "attractive appearance", it seemed he was in the safe for now.

"Cabbage, I'm in class, so could you keep it down?" Mark hissed quietly into the phone.

"Right, right, sorry!" While he was still loud even after lowering his voice down, it was more than quiet enough for Professor Jung not to notice, thankfully. "Mark, I've just completed my latest invention. But this isn't just any invention, it's the invention of both my - and everybody's dreams!"

Mark would be mildly curious if not for the fact that Cabbage said that about every invention of his, but he figured that his dad was going to urge him to go anyway, even if Mark didn’t want to. "But he's my best friend, Mark!" Jeez, because how could he possibly say no to the power of friendship?

"Mark? Boy? You still there?" Cabbage’s voice pulled Mark out of his thoughts, and the boy could do nothing but sigh. This was just going to be like every other time - he’d be introduced to some machine that supposedly did one thing, said machine would catch on fire the next minute, and it would all result in Mark going home an hour later.

"Fine, I'll be there. After class in like, half an hour." Mark reassured the scientist, and he swore, he could hear something catching on fire in the background.

"Great!" He then heard rushed footsteps and... a fire extinguisher? "See you then!" And the call ended.

He just couldn’t wait.

When visitors would come to the humble town of Uicheon (의천), located just thirty minutes away by car from the bustling capital city, Seoul, the first thing they would notice was how much the town gave off Suburban American vibes, like walking through a town where the main characters of some random Disney high school movie lived. All single detached houses, varying in style from Country French to Cape Cod with recent contemporary and modern upgrades to those houses by residents who wanted to "spice it up".

Uicheon was a town seen by others where most of the population was upper-middle class. There was nothing wrong with that at all, and actually, the residents of Uicheon were both happy and welcoming of anybody and anyone who stepped foot into town or even took an interest in moving, no matter of their social or economic status.

If anything, the residents of Uicheon - the ones who've lived in the town for longer than ten years at least - were often worried that those who did show interest of moving in inevitably get... scared off. By one particular daunting house.

It was a beautiful town. No seriously, Uicheon had been mentioned on multiple "Top 5 beautiful towns just outside of Seoul that you should visit!" lists published on the internet. And in the beautiful small town where all the houses provide comfort and beauty, surrounded by flowers on nearly every available patch of grass like something straight out of a magazine, there stood a modern house - the only completely modern house in the town - its exterior all... black. Even the big windows were tinted black, and it was obvious that the house stuck out like a sore thumb. Sometimes, the local kids told stories of how the house was abandoned, and was home to a ghost with a vengeful spirit inside who wanted to steal your teeth. The residents of Uicheon had gotten used to the house's presence already, but it didn’t stop the mutual sentiment of "...really?" amongst them.

And currently, Mark stood in front of its black front doors, ringing the black doorbell and covering his ears as trumpets echoed from inside the house, playing to the tune of the guitar solo of Gun N' Roses' 'Sweet Child O' Mine.' Only seconds later, did the door swing open, revealing a robot, half of Mark's height. "SCANNING FACE... HELLO M-A-R-K, MARK." It greeted, well, robotically.

"Hey, Edison," Mark greeted the robot nonchalantly, walking in and shutting the door behind him, "where's Cabbage?" He asked as he took off his shoes and placed it on the nearby shoe rack.

"LOCATING THE DOCTOR..." Edison's eyes turned yellow, colour blinking repeatedly until it turned into a green light and stayed like that. "DOCTOR LOCATED - HE IS IN HIS LABORATORY DOWNSTAIRS."

Because was it really surprising that the house belonged to a guy who invented things for a living and went by the name of a vegetable in a bizarre way to honour his idol?

"Got it, I'll go meet up with him then." Mark informed, heading down the hall until he reached the black spiral staircase that led both to the third floor and bottom floor. It was really nice up there on the third floor though; Mark had been there before and it even came with a movie room! Too bad Cabbage rarely used it because he "doesn't have time for action sequences". So Mark, being the loyal lab assistant/test subject he was, headed down instead to the bottom floor, where he was greeted by a hallway that was lined up with pictures of old men on the walls. "My inspirations!" Cabbage would say. Among them were the likes of Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison (who he named his robot after, clearly), Nikola Tesla... you got the drift.

Regardless, Mark never stayed in the hall longer than he needed to - he wasn’t sure if portraits of old men who were dead by now staring at him was exactly his kind of vibe.

At the very end of the hall, all that awaited him was a grey metallic door that had some vapour seeping through the narrow space at the bottom of it. "Shit, I didn't bring a fire extinguisher today..." Mark cursed, grabbing onto the straps of his backpacks and readjusting it on his shoulders. "It's okay, Mark. He hasn't killed you before, so he can't kill you today...?" He wasn’t sure what the logic behind that thought was but you couldn’t blame him for trying to... reassure himself for whatever was about to come beyond those doors. It was funny to him; he had been the lab rat of many of Cabbage's crazy experiments and inventions, yet he kept coming back and every time he did, the jitters were always there.

Maybe it wasn’t because he was scared of death. Because he wasn’t - his father always drilled the idea into his head that God would welcome him with open arms when the time came. At the very least, if Mark died - most likely because of one of these experiments and inventions - he'd be bringing Cabbage with him. But hey, that was beyond the point.

If not the fear of death, then what? Maybe, just maybe... one of these days, one of Cabbage's revolutionary inventions would actually be successful. That for all of the craziness that's going on inside the mad scientist's head, it would finally pay off.

If only he knew when.

Mark reached for the handle and twisted it, pulling the door open and nearly coughing when a whole cloud of mist and vapour rushed at him. "Jeez, Cabbage, what are you doing this time?" Mark coughed into his arm as he took a step into the laboratory. He actually couldn't see the scientist at first, waving his hand around in hopes that he'd be able to swat away the mist and vapour. The space around him eventually did clear, though, revealing...

Nothing?

Instead of the usual grand machine that looked like it was taped together, Mark was greeted with... a clear space. The scientist was over at his desk just up a set of stairs that led to a second floor within the big room. "Cabbage!" Mark called after him, waving his hands to get his attention.

Whatever the scientist was busy doing, it was important enough to leave Mark ignored for a good five seconds. It left him pouting, though the scientist eventually did glance over at the boy, his eyes widening behind his circular glasses. "Mark, boy, there you are!" Cabbage sprang out of his seat, quickly rushing down to the boy he had called over. He held some sort of watch in his hands, like it was the most precious thing in the world. Jeez, since when did Cabbage wear Rolex? "Took you long enough! I was bouncing in my seat waiting for you to come over! But in the meantime, I was able to complete another one after confirming my calculations for the twenty-seventh time..."

One thing that nobody wanted to do was sit through Cabbage's rambling, prompting Mark to speak up. "Whoa, calm down, Cabbage. What's going on? Where's your invention?"

"Oh Mark, you're looking at it." Cabbage held out the watch and Mark raised an eyebrow.

"That small thing?" Mark narrowed his eyes at the watch in the scientist's hand. "Are you sure? Last time I came in for one of your creations, it was twice my size and almost killed me." But knowing the kind of person Cabbage was, Mark wouldn't be too surprised if this little watch managed to wreck havoc as well. How ironic it would be, for something so small to cause so much chaos.

Cabbage shook his head, meeting Mark's gaze with oddly serious eyes. "Mark, the creation I hold in my hand can - and will - change the world. If left in the wrong hands, everything could collapse. Society will crumble, the universe will be left in a never-ending stream of terror, reality will no longer exist, the concept of time will-"

"Okay, okay," Mark was left, once again, trying to calm down the frantic scientist, "Cabbage, deep breaths. Tell me, what did you create?" It couldn't be that bad that it left the older man going on some admittedly fear-inducing rant.

"A time travel machine."

One Mississippi, two Mississippi...

"Alright, I'll see you next time then, Cabbage." And almost immediately, Mark turned on his heel, prepared to just dip out of there.

"Wait, no, Mark!" The scientist called after the boy, grabbing a hold of his sleeve, "Please, hear me out!"

"Time travel, Cabbage!" Mark whirled around, disbelief painted in his features. "Do you even hear yourself right now? That's impossible! This is impossible! Listen, I'm fine with being your test subject but even I have to put my foot down somewhere when things get a bit too crazy!"

Despite Mark's reasonable concerns, Cabbage really didn't feel like letting his lab assistant slip away from the tip of his fingers, especially now of all times. "Come on, Mark! Twenty-seven times! I checked my calculations twenty-seven times! Don't let my hard work go down the drain!"

"Then do it yourself! Time travel yourself!" Mark exclaimed.

"I can't! I need you to go so I can stay behind and collect all the data while making sure you don't get stuck in the future or something!" Cabbage explained.

Unfortunately, Mark's face still showed utter disbelief. "You know, this really doesn't help your case, Cabbage!"

"Fine! We'll do this the fair way then!" Cabbage shouted, holding his fist out.

"Are you serious? Rock, paper, scissors?!" Mark cried out, covering his eyes. If there was one thing he couldn't say no to, it was rock, paper, scissors. Why? Maybe because he boasts a seven-hundred-fifty-two win record, with a mere twenty-one losses in the game. As you could probably assume, Mark was the undisputed rock, paper, scissors king in Uicheon, and only two kinds of people would dare challenge him in the game when it came to bets. Those who were bold and those who were desperate.

"I mean it, Mark! If you win, you can walk right out that door and never look back. I won't force this onto you. But if I win..." If Cabbage won, "you have to at least give this experiment a thought."

"Wait, that's it?" Mark uncovered his eyes, surprise in his voice. But hey, it wasn't a bad deal at all - in fact, the opposite. If Mark won - which he was pretty much guaranteed to - he could leave. If he didn't, he could pretend he thought it over and just say no in the end. "Well shit, say no more, Cabbage." And out Mark's fist went. “On shoot?”

"On shoot." The scientist confirmed, the two men placing their fists behind their backs.

"Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

Rock for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

"You got lucky." Mark rolled his shoulders back. "But this is it." And back their fists went behind them.

"Rock, paper, scissors... shoot!!"

Scissors for Mark, and... rock for Cabbage.

"I won..." Cabbage glanced down at his fist, mouth left agape, "I-I won! Against you!"

Yikes, better make that record seven-hundred-fifty-two wins to twenty-two losses now.

"I-I..." Mark was still in disbelief, for a totally different reason now, however. "I... I lost?" Under such circumstances too... but seriously! Time travel was a bit too much! "H-Hey, that doesn't mean I'm going to be going through with this! Remember, you said if you won, you'd let me think about it!" Mark reminded.

"Yeah, but only because I didn't think I'd actually win!" Cabbage snorted, shaking his head as he tucked the watch safely in the pocket of his white lab coat. "But I am a man of my word, so I'll give you some time to think about it. How about until the end of the day?" He suggested.

"That's a bit too soon, don't you think?" Mark frowned, not really liking the idea of being forced into a decision so quickly.

"Sorry, is that loser talk?" God, that damn Cabbage always knew how to get under Mark's skin.

"Fine, by the end of the day. But don't be surprised if my answer doesn't change." Mark warned. "Now if that's it, I'll be going." Mark huffed, turning around and heading to the door once more. This time, the scientist let him go, but not without some parting words.

"See you soon, Mark."

(Y/N) doesn't know where her life went wrong.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration and a dramatic one as well, but it didn't change the fact that instead of living out in the city and pursuing her dream as a world renown film director, she was stuck in her small hometown, working full-time at a film-rental store.

What was even the point of this store anyway? Everything was online nowadays anyway - who did the owner think he was, trying to compete with Netflix?

"One Mississippi, two Mississippi..." (Y/N) mumbled to herself from behind the counter, staring dully at the analog clock hung just above the front doors. An analog clock - what year was this again?

"(Y/N)," the voice of the store's owner, Mr. Yoon, was a less than welcoming disruption to her daily "clock-watching" (as she termed it herself), but at least it was a good way to remind her that the day was almost over, "did the kids all go home already?"

(Y/N) nodded, reaching below into the counter for a piece of paper with names and times. "Yup, Jungwoo and Sungchan just finished their shifts half an hour ago." She pointed to their names on the paper, "Signed out here."

"Great. You're in charge of closing up for today then, I have business in the city." Mr. Yoon informed, proudly readjusting his grip on the handles of his briefcase.

"Godspeed, Mr. Yoon." (Y/N) nodded, watching as the man left with a nod. And as the doors closed behind him, the female found herself alone in the store. All alone... which actually wasn't even that uncommon.

(Y/N); twenty-four years old, graduated from a local college two years ago with a degree in Film Studies with hopes of eventually entering the field of film-making and directing. She had high hopes, especially when she graduated. "To the city and A-list I go!" She could remember cheering that day in her car, diploma in hand and graduation gown still on.

But somebody must have forgotten to tell her that the university you went to mattered - and just how competitive the job market was for... pretty much every job.

Now this wasn't to say the college she attended was bad or anything, it just wasn't... one of the SKY universities. And before she knew it, when it came time for job hunting, the positions were constantly being filled out by "better candidates" and after a certain amount of "we regret to inform you"s, (Y/N) decided to go back home.

Home, in the beautiful yet small town of Uicheon. All she wanted was to make it big, live in a nice condo in Seoul and shop at luxury brands. Yet now, she found herself wearing what was possibly a ten-year-old uniform from the back storage with a name tag that was always tilted at a forty-five degree angle no matter how many times she tried to fix it.

But don't get her wrong! She hadn't given up yet - she absolutely would not! Her films might not be playing in theatres or at the Busan International Film Festival, but she still enjoyed writing up ideas and getting some of her co-workers to act out some scenes for her while she filmed eagerly with her trusty camcorder.

The Sony HDR-CX675; this bad boy cost her a good two months of saving up but God, was it worth it. Jungwoo in a wig and Sungchan throwing pens like they were daggers had never looked so good in HD until (Y/N) had gotten her hands on that beloved camcorder of hers.

"Should I film the clock or something?" She sighed, eyes wandering back over to the analog clock. At least she only had an hour left before the store closed, and she usually spent most of that time cleaning up anyway.

And so that hour began, dreadfully long until with only ten minutes to spare, the front door had opened, prompting (Y/N) to rush back to the counter from the storage room, though not without grumbling to herself quietly about what asshole comes into a store ten minutes before they close.

But it wasn't just anybody who came in - it was Mark, the boy who always complimented her hair no matter how lazy she had been to brush it that day. Still, flattery always earned some brownie points in (Y/N)’s books. So she wasn't hesitant at all when she had greeted Mark. "Hey, it's nice to see you here! Renting a movie?" She asked, resting her arms on the counter top.

"Yeah, looking for some Christian-friendly Halloween movie. For the kids at church this Sunday, since Halloween is tomorrow." Mark chuckled shaking his head.

"Let me see what I can find," (Y/N) grinned as she slipped away from the counter and to one of the shelves, "I'll be honest though, you're probably better off showing the kids some cartoon from Netflix or something."

As if Mark was going to tell her that he insisted to his dad on renting a movie, for he wanted to see and talk to the girl of his dreams who currently had her back turned to him. "Well you know us, terrible with technology." Instead, that was all he could muster up.

"I'll bet." She snickered jokingly, turning back to him with a movie now in her hand, "Toy Story of Terror sound good to you?"

"Better than showing them Scream." Mark shrugged before heading back to the counter with her. "I'll pay with debit."

"Mhm," (Y/N) nodded, taking his card and swiping it for him through the machine, "you know the usual, watch within thirty days and return it after those thirty days." She reminded him with a yawn. God forbid Mr. Yoon ever see that.

"Busy day?" Mark offered a small sympathetic smile as he took his card back as well as the movie. "I kind of get it. Cabbage called me in for one of his inventions today."

"Today?" She asked, watching as the boy across from her nodded. "What was it this time?" Everybody in town felt bad for Mark since he was the one always testing out Cabbage's inventions, but at the same time, at least it wasn't them?

"Gosh, you wouldn't believe me if I said it." He shook his head with a heavy sigh. "A time travel machine - or like, a time travel watch, I guess."

"Time travel?" The gasp from the female was expected; anybody would be surprised. "I always knew Cabbage was ambitious but definitely not to the extent of time travel!"

"Yeah, needless to say, I said no. Or like, I told him I would think about it, you know?" Mark frowned. "I just can't believe... time travel of all things."

"I'll be honest," there was a smile spreading on (Y/N)’s face, to the slight surprise of Mark, "the idea of time travel sounds so cool though. I'd love to try it out." When Mark had brought up what had happened at Cabbage's house, he didn't think (Y/N) would actually be... interested in the scientist's invention. Definitely not when it was so absurd. But she looked so cute, the way she stood up straighter and her attentive eyes as he talked about it. Gosh, he wished he could tell her that it wasn't worth the time. But her interest was clear, that much he couldn't ignore.

"Then... why don't you try it in my place?" Mark suggested hesitantly. He didn't want (Y/N) and her pretty little self anywhere near those dangerous creations, for concern of her safety. But she really seemed to be interested in this, and this... it was the least he could do.

"Alone? No thanks." She giggled softly, to the relief of the boy who had suggested it in the first place. "Maybe if someone else was with me though. Like a time travel duo!" Hold up - someone else?

"This is your chance, Mark!" His inner voice practically screamed at him. Anything for (Y/N), right? "But it's so dangerous!" His other inner voice tried deterring him from going through with what he was about to suggest. But for (Y/N)! "Then," Mark felt his heartbeat quicken, excitement and hope visible in his eyes, "you wouldn't mind if we did it together, would you?"

If his friends Johnny and Donghyuck were here, they'd definitely be cheering and slapping him on the back. It felt like he was asking her out, something he always dreamed of doing but never really having the guts to do so. Rejection was a scary thought, but as he watched the wide smile that spread onto (Y/N)’s face, he knew he had something to look forward to, even if through... this.

"Of course! it'll be fun!" Score! "Too bad only one person can go though, I assume." She frowned.

And for a second, Mark's hopes had shattered once again. But then he remembered something back at Cabbage's house, and maybe, just maybe, it wasn't over yet. "Actually, I think Cabbage mentioned making two watches." After confirming his calculations twenty-seven times. "Why don't we go together?"

"Seriously? You wouldn't mind?" Oh, what Mark wouldn't given just to see that wide smile on (Y/N)’s face every single second of the day.

And with a smile of his own, he nodded. "Of course not, noona."

Love has always been a motivation for man, ever since the beginning of humans. And as time continued on and advanced, a variety of factors had been added to that list of motivation, such as money and power. But one constant above all was always going to be love - something that had always been interpersonal.

So that was why Cabbage wasn't too particularly surprised to see Mark come back to his house later in the evening, this time, with a female companion. And judging by the look of awe on her face, it didn't take much for the scientist to connect the dots. "Mark, you came back!" Cabbage smiled down at the boy from the second floor of his basement lab. "With a friend this time?"

"Right," Mark cleared his throat, gesturing to the scientist, "(Y/N), this is Cabbage as you already know, and Cabbage, this is (Y/N), my friend."

"Hi! It's great to be here! Like, really great." (Y/N) was still enamoured by the many... things going on in the lab, though Mark couldn't blame her.

"Anyway Mark, have you given my invention a thought?" Cabbage inquired, standing up from his seat by his computer and leaning against the railing. "I assume that's why you're here, after all."

Mark nodded. "I have." He confirmed, biting down on his lip. "And I'll do it."

"You will?" The scientist's eyes widened, grin spreading on his face. "That's great!"

"But," Mark began, gaze falling over onto (Y/N) for a short second before back onto the scientist, "with conditions."

"Conditions?" Cabbage raised an eyebrow, pleasantly intrigued.

"Conditions!" (Y/N) suddenly spoke up with a grin, earning a look from the two. "Sorry, it just felt kind of intense so I wanted to ease tensions a bit." She coughed, glancing back and forth between the two. "Please, continue." She urged.

"A-Anyway yes, conditions." Mark cleared his throat before turning to the scientist once more. "I want (Y/N) to come with me. You have two watches, don't you?"

"I do." Cabbage nodded, fishing his hand into the pocket of his lab coat and bringing out two identical watches. "So far, they're the only two I have so I need to make sure that your friend will be extra careful with this."

"She will." Mark reassured without any hesitation. "I know she will, because she's (Y/N)." A man who was claiming everybody's hearts left and right - except for (Y/N)’s though, unfortunately.

Cabbage looked as if he was pondering on the thought for a bit before eventually nodding and making his way down the stairs. "Well, if Mark is vouching for you, I guess it should be okay." Cabbage nodded before gesturing for the two to follow him to the back of the lab, where large screen rested on the wall and multiple smaller monitors on both it's sides, resting on a glass desk. Below it were multiple keyboards, a few touch pads here and there with clearly different functions. It was like something straight out of a sci-fi movie. "This is where I'll be monitoring and communicating with you two while you're in whatever time period you land in." He explained, gesturing to his set up.

"What about the watches?" (Y/N) asked.

"I'm just getting to that." Cabbage nodded, reaching for the two watches once again. "Gather around, you two." He motioned for them to come closer. "It looks like a regular analog watch at first, but if you tap the clock face," he did what he had just said, the other two watching in awe as a small digital hologram had appeared in the air, just above the clock face, "it has information such as your battery life on the right hand corner, the date and time you're in, the option to video call me, and the option to switch time periods." He pointed out each detail on the hologram. "Now the problem with the switching time periods is that once you arrive somewhere, you're stuck there for, at a minimum, twenty-four hours before the voltage and particle energies recharge and allow you to travel elsewhere."

"Wait, so you're staying we might be stuck in a different time for a whole day?" Mark asked, a bit of alarm evident in his voice.

"Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find out the proper calculations to make the recharging process quicker but for the meantime... yes." The scientist sighed. "But hey, at least it's not twenty-five hours...?"

"Cabbage!" Mark groaned, running his hand down his face.

"I mean, twenty-four hours doesn't sound that bad." (Y/N) hummed. "I'd love to explore a different time period, really get to know what it was like!"

"See, at least someone's optimistic." Cabbage sent a not-so-subtle look over at Mark. "But anyway, I actually have a quest for you two."

"Ooh, a quest! I feel like I'm in a video game." (Y/N) giggled, and if it weren't for the fact that she was totally digging this right now, Mark would have just straight up left out of fear for his own safety.

"Exactly!" Cabbage nodded eagerly. "Since you two will be going to different time periods, I want you to bring back a memento of some sort from each time period."

"Anything specific?" Mark asked, wanting to make sure he was going into this with full details.

"Yes, for the purpose of analytic purposes due to their high amount of energy." Cabbage turned to the two, a suddenly serious look on his face. "A meaningful item to at least one person you encounter."

The two waited for him to say more, but nope, all he did was stare back at them. Mark ended up being the first to speak up. "Hm, I think you're missing the part where you, oh I don't know, tell us what you mean by ‘meaningful item’??"

"That will vary from person to person, Mark boy." Cabbage sighed, giving an empathetic pat on the boy's shoulder. "One person's 'meaningful item' might be a necklace that their mother gifted them, or maybe a letter from a lover for a soldier - everything in life is a variable anyway."

"Wait, then how do we know something is a meaningful item?" (Y/N) asked.

"That's where this last function of the watches come in," Cabbage turned his attention back to the watches, "this icon," he pointed to one of the icons on the hologram screen that resembled a heart, "will allow you to scan a person once you've talked to them. This only works one person at a time though, and it does drain a lot of energy from the watch battery. It'll allow you to see particles coming from objects, like sparkles. The more vivid, bigger and brighter the particles, chances are that's your person's meaningful item. So be careful with who you choose to use it on - once you scan that person, you'll have to find their meaningful item before you can use it again. Not to mention that the longer it takes for you to find the meaningful item, the more energy it drains." He warned.

"Talk about ominous, gosh." Mark sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"It'll be exciting though, Mark." (Y/N) glanced over at the boy beside her, a grin spreading on her face. "We're in this together, after all!"

"Noona..." A shade of red coated Mark's cheeks as he stared down at her, eyes sparkling with adoration.

"Ahem, and me too." Cabbage interrupted, "Just, I'll be back here handling everything."

"Yes, of course, because where would we be without you, Cabbage?" Mark sighed, feeling a bit salty over the scientist's interruption during his and (Y/N)’s "moment".

"Love you too, Mark." Cabbage blew a kiss his way before handing a watch to Mark and (Y/N) each. "Are you two ready?"

"Wait, we're doing this so soon?" Mark's eyes widened, staring down at the watch in his hands with a bit of fear.

"Better sooner than later." Cabbage shrugged, helping attach the watch onto Mark's wrist and then to (Y/N)’s. "You guys will be fine, don't worry. I'm here, after all!"

"So reassuring, Cabbage." Mark grumbled, about to protest over the quick timing and suddenness of all of this if not for the sudden feeling of warmth in one of his hands. He glanced down at said hand, eyes lingering on the smaller hand that had clasped his own. And as his eyes wandered up to the hand's owner, he swore she was going to be the death of him.

"It'll be okay, Mark." (Y/N) squeezed his hand softly with a reassuring smile. "We're in this together." She repeated.

"Right..." Mark trailed off before taking a deep breath and nodding. "Together." He then glanced over at the scientist. "We're ready, Cabbage."

With an excited smile, the older man nodded before turning to his set up and taking a seat down in the chair. The sounds of his quick tapping against the keyboard keys had Mark worrying with every passing second, but as (Y/N) held his hand, he figured this wouldn't be a terrible way to die. "Adios, you two!" Cabbage called out before hitting one last button. Click!

And as a bright and large flash of light illuminated within the lab, Mark knew it had begun, especially with the way his limbs practically burned and his consciousness struggling to stay intact.

The things he'd do for love, huh?

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