#bc it’s not that I’m being given responsibilities for the next title up. that’s fine I’m okay with that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silverdelirium · 3 years

Note

hi! can you do one where draco and the reader are married (don’t make them old please make them like the married rich pretty milf and dilf couple), and they have a daughter. anyway, draco is out because of work/something else (it’s up to u) and the reader is with their daughter and they get into a small fight and the daughter says something really bad/hurtful to the reader (her mother) and the reader like gets sad (make it bad so it can be dramatic😏) and when draco gets home he finds the reader like crying (smoking too bc a milf smoking is hot but if you don’t want to add it it’s fine) and yeah basically the rest is up to you :)) ily hope ur well and fine. <3

CIGARETTES & INSECURITIES | D.M

thank you hoe @selenesheart for helping me with the title ily

warnings: anxiety, lowkey panic attack, insecurities of being a bad mother, mean child, smoking, angst w a happy ending

———

draco’s hurried steps were heard echoing across the hallway as he rapidly made his way downstairs, cussing his boss out under his breath for calling him on a fucking Sunday. the same sunday he was about to spend basking in the love of his wife and child, all expectations now turned to mush.

“i’m sorry i have to go, my love. call me if you need anything, okay?” spoke draco, tone soft as he held your face in his hands, giving you one last sad smile before pressing a sweet kiss on your lips.

you gave him a feeble nod in response with a reassuring smile, watching him storm off in long strides, still swearing in hushed whispers and with a flick of his wand, he was gone.

you instantly took notice of how intense the atmosphere got around the manor- almost scary. deadly quiet with your four-year-old toddler still asleep and big curtains blocking any sunlight from coming in.

it almost caused goosebumps to rise on your arms as if the universe was already warning you of the day you were gonna have to deal with today.

maybe the first bad thing to happen today was being woken up by draco’s phone going off like crazy with calls of his boss and endless text messages of his colleagues.

it didn’t matter though, you had other things to worry about. your toddler was already walking down the stairs with a sleepy stare as she made her way to you, immediately taking notice of how there was no trace of draco, and looking around for any signs of her father.

“hi there” you greeted, giving her a sympathetic smile when she asked for draco, her small body already wrapped around your torso. a small sigh with a brief explanation of a work emergency was given to her. her sour mood amplifying a tenfold for every word that left your mouth.

she stayed quiet for a moment, and just as you started beaming at the thought of calming a daddy’s girl- she sobbed heavily in your ear, clinging hard to you but still screaming for draco.

a grimace found its way to your face along with a sorrowful expression as you shushed her down, tracing your fingers down her spine; a small trick you always did to relax her in days like this.

her sobs quieted down but she still cried silently in your shoulder, hot tears rolling down her face that had you questioning whether you should call your husband or not, the thought accompanying the insecurity of being a terrible mother who can barely keep her child tranquil.

after a few minutes of letting her pour all her emotions out, you made a path to the kitchen and sat her down on the barstool, wiping her tears away as she huffed in what seemed to be an angry expression.

“would you like some breakfast, baby?” you spoke, tone soft and slow as to not aggravate the situation.

“i want daddy”

“he’s- he’s not here right now” you tried to reason, watching as she took a deep breath but said nothing.

you turned around to head for the stove. but your ears caught a small murmur of “you’re the worst” coming from none other than your daughter.

a thunder-struck look adorned your face, blinking back the tears that found their way to your waterline.

ever since you found out you were pregnant, the anxiousness of being a not good enough mom had filled you in seconds, thinking of the worst scenarios possible throughout the pregnancy. draco was always there to ease your nerves a bit, yet, never quite pushing them away completely.

and jesus- did that simple three-word sentence stung painfully at your heart.

you stayed frozen in place for a few moments before taking a deep breath and quickly collecting yourself, continuing your errands around the kitchen as you made an effort to ignore the way your hands became clammy and heartstrings were pulled harshly in your chest.

the rest of the day went painfully slow, your daughter completely ignoring you and just curling up on the couch or playing in her room, always slamming the door in your face whenever you attempted to talk to her. your back also aching from having to do all house chores by yourself. every once in a while getting a text message from draco, rushed typos of “i love you” and “i’m gonna be there soon”.

——

the clock read 6:07 P.M and you held the cigarette to your lips with shaky fingers, tears blurring your vision as all the frustration from today came crashing down at once.

sobs rocked through your body as you inhaled the smoke and blew it out past your nostrils. warm, thick tears not coming to a halt even once.

your cries muffled every sound around you. not taking notice of draco who was now frantically searching for you, already finding your daughter safe and asleep on the couch. yet you were nowhere to be found.

it took one look at the cigarette package on the dining table for draco to locate you. he knew about your anxiety and how bad it got when triggered.

his heart ached and fists clenched at his side as he turned to his baby girl, snuggling her deeper into the thick fluffy blanket before making his way to the porch where you sat with a hand to your sternum, big clouds of smoke fogging the air around you.

“oh, baby” he sympathized, not giving you time to react as he enveloped you in a big hug, feeling the way your curled your fists on his shirt and sobbed quietly, taking ragged breaths every once in a while.

after a few minutes of taking shallow breaths, you pulled your head back from his chest, just enough to stare at his face, his bright grey eyes running down every feature you had, almost like he was studying it.

“what happened today?” he whispered, closing his eyes and connecting his forehead with yours.

you released a breath through your nose and lit off the cigarette on the small table next to you before explaining every small detail from today to draco, a few tears escaping at some points.

once you were done, draco removed his head from yours, pulling back and displaying both of his palms on your cheeks, observing your tear-stained face made him ache with sorrow.

“my love” he started “you are the world’s greatest mother to ever exist, a bad day with your child does not define your abilities as a mom. she loves you, we all do. you don’t know how fuzzy she gets when you’re not here.”

his words made a small smile crack through your lips, buzzing nerves slowly weighing down after every syllable he spoke.

“we would all be doomed if it wasn’t for you. every parent has a bad day, do not beat yourself up for it, it happens to the best of us.” he finalized, chest swelling with pride once he saw how you were full-on beaming, puckering your lips like a silent sign for a kiss which he gladly provided.

“i love you” you mumbled against his mouth.

“i love you more” he responded.

———

🏷: @spencervera @methblinds @marrymetheonott @adrianscumslut @wh0re4blaise @turn-to-page-394-please @fredshufflepuff @malfoysbiitch @saggyb1lls @selenesheart @metaraxia @dracoslittlesluttyprincess @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dlmmdl @fleursbabe @riddleswh0r3crux @lolooo22 @darlingmalfoy @littlemissnoname13 @i-love-scott-mccall @underappreciated-spoon-321 @steveharringtonswhore @dracosafety @dracoscum @riddleswh0rekrux @laceycallisto @slytherinbabess @lostaurorax @alexavolturisblog @s1ater @marauderswh0re1 @starless-starkov @black-rose-29 @tattooedkermit @purpleskymalfoy @emma67 @mypainistemporary @mauvea @teenwolfbitches28 @lissa-duh @paniicing @rav3nclawwhore @yagamigf

[check your private settings if i wasn’t able to tag you]

#draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy #dad!draco #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you

885 notes · View notes

scintillasofbeomgyu · 3 years

Text

˚ · . 𝘁𝘅𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻! — 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙜𝙞𝙛𝙩 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨/𝙤

pairing: txt x fem!reader

genre: fluff!

word count: tbd

a/n: I took the longest time with this, I’m so sorry anon! I tried the best I can to make it good but it still doesn’t feel quite right. anyways, I hope you enjoy!

᠃ ⚘ choi yeonjun:

this was a little tough for me to do, bc Yeonjun is the oldest member and I feel that even if they did do something that’d upset him he wouldn’t really go off? If you know what I mean

but at the same time, he is also your boyfriend and he loves you to bits and pieces

so when they were messing around this time and didn’t break just anything, but the gift that you had gotten him for his birthday

he’d try to keep his cool, but would be visibly distressed

“Ah, come on guys do you see what you’ve done?” he’d whine

Thinking about how you had saved up to get him this cologne (you loved nice smells, and nice smells + your boyfriend = yes pls), and the face you had made when you cutely insisted he only where it when he’s with you

it’d just hurt his heart so much

but at the same time Hyuka and Soobin were standing at the crime scene looking like they’d burst into tears at any given moment

he’d eventually just settle on telling them off in a serious-but-not-serious tone, and he’d make sure to remind them of this mistake every freaking day skks

he’d make them apologise to you as well, which resulted in you sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth before you hit the back of his head playfully

you’d asure them (and Yeonjun) that it was no big deal

“I’ll be buying you cologne for the rest of our lives anyway,” you’d whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek – for effect, ofcourse.

And although he’s still pretty bummed about the broken gift, man’s would just get extremely smiley and giggly cause he WEAK for you

᠃ ⚘ choi soobin:

we all know this boy about to put himself through the most sksks

he’d wear the bracelet you got him for your 2 year anniversary EVERYWHERE and blush a little each time he looked at it

(the members would drag him so bad omg)

so when Beomgyu’s piercing got caught in it while he and Yeonjun were messing around in the van on the way to the next schedule, his heart started doing laps

he tried to gently move it away, but the van hit a pothole, and the next thing he knew, the beads were scattering everywhere

even though he’s clearly not to blame, he’d so blame himself for it

“I’m so sorry, Hyung” “No, it’s okay, I should have taken proper care of it”

he’d tell everyone it’s fine and it’s not that big of a deal, but there’d be a visible dark cloud hanging over his head 24/7 and he’d be completely despondent

he wouldn’t know how to tell you, so when Yeonjun and Beomgyu eventually apologized to you, you sighed, realizing that this was the reason he’d been avoiding your calls and texting back so dryly

“It’s okay, baby,” you’d coo, running your hands through his hair and giving his scalp gentle massages as he nuzzled his head into your chest.

᠃ ⚘ choi beomgyu:

As I’m sure you can imagine, a large can of the Daegu satoori will be whipped out for this one

mans would be going through the five stages of grief as he watched Taehyun’s coffee seep into the handmade songbook that you had made for him last Christmas

they had been deciding on a title for a song that Beomgyu had initially written, but had now become a collaborative piece, when Huening had suggested that they just play rock-paper-scissors

them being them, they got way too into it, and Taehyun had accidentally knocked over his coffee onto the song in question

“H-hyung, I’m sorry...”

His heart would ache so bad omg, and he’d try and hurry and wipe the coffee off or something ugh this poor baby

I don’t feel like he’d be angry about it, but I do think that he’d be thinking about you and the amount of time and thought went into this gift and how much it meant to him to have received it from you

heck, the only reason he even used the book was because you had to convince him for weeks that it was meant to be used and not to gather dust

like Soobin, he’d also struggle to tell you about it, worried that it might hurt you which would hurt him – so he’d just resort to being playful about it and tell you in a roundabout way

“See, Y/n! This is why I didn’t wanna use it. I knew something like this would happen; I live with animals you know”

you’d just laugh it off and wrap your arms around him, knowing all too well that he more than likely cried about it before coming to tell you what had happened

he’ll NEVER let the members live it down lmaoo

“Remember that time you destroyed that gift from my girlfriend”

playfully obviously, ya know mans is a professional chain-tugger

expect that the next time you come over you’ll find that songbook framed and on a shelf in his room with a polaroid of you on the outside corner

᠃ ⚘ kang taehyun:

He really strikes me as the kind of person who wouldn’t normally get upset about something like this happening, but because it’s a gift from his s/o he’d be ticked off – at the very least

however, despite being ticked off, he wouldn’t let his emotions get the better of him.

You know our king of rationalism

He’d see the glass shatter as it hit the laminated floor of the dorm room, and he’d simply just stand there looking at it, absorbing the situation, trying the best he can to keep himself as calm as he possibly can

Yeonjun had came into the room to smother Huening with affection again, when he had accidentally knocked the watch off the dresser (it probably sent shivers down their spines as they imagines the many ways Taehyun could kill them in their sleep for this one)

“It’s okay, it’s not the end of the world,” he’d say, but really it felt like it was.

Taehyun may come off as someone who is cold, but in reality he’s just such a soft boi who’d take care of and show affection to his s/o in his own ways

he hates to see you sad

it’d break his heart to know that the first gift he had ever gotten from you was in smithereens just bc yeonjun and hyuka couldn’t sit still for five minutes sksk

he’d want to tell you right away and he’d apologize in the sincerest way possible

“I’m really sorry about this, Y/n. I’m sure you spent a lot on this gift; I should have taken proper care of it,” he’d say, eyes literally begging you to forgive him

and you’d just slip your hand into his, giving it a squeeze, before snuggling into his figure and telling him that it was an accident, and how warm it wakes you feel knowing it meant that much to him

he’d gently push you aside and frown, before planting a kiss on your forehead, “Of course it means that much to me. It’s a gift from you.”

᠃ ⚘ huening kai:

“ANDWAEEE!”

you and I both know that we can hear that

Soobin and Taehyun had been teasing him about his plushies again – his collection was growing way too big for the space which he and Taehyun were supposed to share; and even he knew that

and as per usual, every time they picked a few to give away, Huening would get really sad and be unable to part with any of them – so they decided to tease him a little

they picked the plushie they knew you had given to him (the big, fluffy pink one with the floppy ears :((( )

he’d beg them to not tease him as they tossed it amongst themselves (THIS POOR BABY PLS)

“Please be careful! It’s going to break!” he’d whine

and it did :((((

one of the ears tore, and poor Huening just stood there with upset tears rimming his eyes, looking like his world just ended oml

Soobin and Taehyun would be extremely apologetic, and like Soobin, Huening would say that it’s okay even though it isn’t; he’d probably need like an hour to himself before being himself again

oh but he’d so rat them out though lmao

“Y/n! Look what they did! They hurt our Ae-Cha!” he’d say, playfully pouting as he showed you the tear on the plushie; to which they’d simply roll their eyes while Beomgyu and Yeonjun laughed

“Oh no! Our Ae-Cha!” you’d gasp in response, pouting just as much, before giggling and taking out the needle and thread from your bag

he’d wrap his arms around you and rest his head on your shoulder as you fixed the toy, telling you every other minute how lucky he is to have such a beautiful and talented girlfriend uwu ^.^

365 notes · View notes

queen-scribbles · 3 years

Text

The Long-Burning Torch

For the @shepherds-of-haven Shepherds Summer event, the Ryn/Red muses latched onto 20′s Detective AU and would not let go. I’ve gone so deep down this rabbit hole there’s gonna be chapters, but the first piece works as a standalone. (title might change along the way, again bc chapters)

----

There were, in Xaeryn’s experience, two types of people who made use of her services. Both were driven by desperation, both tended to hit her doorstep late in the day. There were the belligerent ones, incensed they had to stoop to hiring her, a Mage, to solve their problem. From them she had to pull the pertinent facts of their case one begrudging sentences at a time. And there were the frantic ones, who had exhausted every other route and she was their last chance. Details poured so freely from them she had to pick through it to find what was actually relevant to the case.

The young man standing before her now, at the start of her day, appeared to fit neither of those groups. He’d knocked and entered without awaiting an invitation, seeming unperturbed by the eyebrow she arched at his arrival.

“May I help you?” Xaeryn asked, leaning forward to rest folded hands on her desk.

He shifted to fold his own hands over the head of a walking stick she’d wager he didn’t actually need and smiled dryly. “If your reputation is anything to go by, Miss Shrike, I certainly expect so.”

She gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “Let’s find out, Mr...?”

“Riel Syndran,” he said, passing her a business card as he took the offered seat.

The card was hardly necessary, and Xaeryn set it on the desk with only a passing glance. “You run Whitestone Couriers, don’t you?”

There was the faintest twitch on the left side of his jaw. “The company is a guild venture.”

“And I wouldn’t be much of a snooper if I couldn’t figure out who truly ran a company as vital to the city of Haven as Whitestone Couriers, Mr. Syndran.”

He gave her a sharp smile. “Very good. I knew coming to you first was the right call, Miss Shrike.”

“Flattered as I am by your confidence” --and she was; she was typically the last resort, being first was something of a novelty-- “why don’t you tell me what or who you need found, and we can discover if said confidence is warranted.”

“I’m certain it is,” Syndran said, his gaze briefly dropping to the Shrike Investigations placard on the edge of her desk. “But you are correct. To business.”

And business, as he explained it, ran thus: Whitestone Couriers had been contracted to transport a collection of artefacts, originally from all parts of Blest, from their previous temporary home at the Conte-by-the-Sea museum to Haven’s Hall of History and Culture.

”How well-known was your being contracted?” Xaeryn interjected.

“It was something of a secret,” Syndran replied, flicking invisible dust off his sleeve. “Some of the pieces are quite valuable, so it was largely in hopes of avoiding theft.”

Hopes that had proven vain. They’d had an uneventful journey--blessed with good weather, even--made it through city customs upon arriving at Haven (checked everything after making it through and found nothing amiss), and proceeded to the museum. Upon unpacking the artefacts, however, it was discovered one was missing.

(Of course.)

The missing piece--an obsidian and bronze pendent thought to belong to a ruler in the Jalis desert pre-Autarchy--had limited monetary value, especially compared to some of the other items in the collection. (Those, of course, had been more closely watched.) Its worth was largely historical and religious.

“Enchantments?”

“None so far as we know.”

“I’ll look into it for you,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She loved mind-twisters like this. “I’ll need to talk to your people, as well as the museum staff, so it would be helpful if you let them know I’m coming. Otherwise my kind” --a twitch of her fingers set energy dancing above them briefly-- “aren’t usually given the time of day.”

“Of course. I shall do so.” Syndran stood and bowed. “I thank you for taking my case, Miss Shrike, and look forward to your success.”

“Two things, Mr. Syndran,” she spoke up as he turned toward the door. She waited until he paused and looked back to continue. “I will, of course, endeavor to find this relic on my own, but should I require an expert’s... knowledge of its history, say, is outside help acceptable?”

His nose wrinkled briefly. “If you must. But as few others as possible, and only those you trust to keep it in strictest confidence.”

“Understood.”

“And the second thing, Miss Shrike?”

She smiled. “One third estimated payment is due upfront.”

“Oh, obviously.” He returned the smile and pulled out his checkbook.

----

She made some good progress between that afternoon and the next day. Interviews with the caravan guards and those responsible for the artefact collection gave insight to their procedures--which were indeed top-notch; it was impressive someone had managed to find a weakness--and how long the pieces were out of their sight coming through city customs.

“Don’t see why that matters,” the pink-haired courier who’d been in charge of the caravan commented. “We checked them all when we got through; made sure everything was still there. Standard procedure.”

“When you say you checked, is this a thorough examination or just a glance to make sure it’s still there?” Xaeryn asked, glancing at the notepad balanced on her knee.

“There’s no fine-tooth comb involved,” came the somewhat tart and harried reply, “but we do look to confirm it’s there and undamaged so nothing undeserved can later be blamed on us. The company has a sterling reputation for a reason, Miss Shrike, and the guild would very much like to keep it that way.”

“Hence your boss coming to me instead of the police.” Xaeryn tapped her pen against her chin and skimmed over her notes. “I think I have everything I need, Miss Aerin. Thank you for your time.”

Aerin gave a sharp nod. “Of course. Anything to get this cleared up and the artefact found as quickly as possible.” She flicked a worried glance toward the notebook as Xaeryn slipped it in her handbag. “How much did you write down? A lot of our procedures are trade secrets; if someone should see...”

Xaeryn laughed and withdrew the notepad again, flipping it open to show the other woman the symbols that filled the pages. “Never fear, your secrets are safe with me. An added bonus of my own shorthand; no one else can read my notes.”

“Smart.” A brief hesitation. “No one? You’re sure?”

“Well, perhaps the friend who helped develop it initially, but I’ve tweaked it since then.” She flipped the pad closed and stowed it in her bag. “I think it would take a little work even for him. We worked it out to take faster notes in class, but taking faster notes also come in handy in my line of work.”

Aerin relaxed and nodded again. “I’m sure it does. Thank you for the reassurance, Miss Shrike.”

“Of course. Have a good day.”

“You as well.”

With the last of the days’ intended interviews behind her, Xaeryn headed back to her office. Now to review what she’d learned from all the sources together. She was confident she had plenty to give herself at least a couple leads worth pursuing, even if there wasn’t enough for a scry.

---

It took a day and a half of running herself off her feet for Xaeryn to burn through the leads she’d found without much to show for it. She’d been unable to track down the specific guard who checked that portion of the shipment, but his supervisor assured her such an important collection would have been treated with utmost care, seeming miffed at the insinuation otherwise. None of the drivers or other courier employees had noticed anything unusual once they passed through customs, no interruptions or suspicious folks in the streets.

Even scrying had fizzled out without so much as a vague semblance of where it might be.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Xaeryn dug her fingers into her short hair and glowered at the photographs of the pendent Mr. Syndran had given her. It was so small. So easily concealed. And so simple it would hardly draw attention unless you knew what it was.

She’d been forced to grudgingly admit her minimal progress to Mr. Syndran when he called for an update and it had her in a foul mood. This sort of baloney was not how she kept the lights on. It was time for a new tack.

If she couldn’t (yet) trace where the pendent vanished from, perhaps it would work better to learn more about it; figure where it might be going and get a solid enough knowledge of it she could successfully scry its location. Who would want it badly enough for the hassle of stealing from Whitestone Couriers to be worth their while? Looking into the pendent’s history and provenance seemed the next logical course. Just because Mr. Syndran had told her it was on loan to the collection from the “proper” owners did not mean said owners had told him everything, or indeed, that they’d told the truth. She needed an expert and knew just where to find one.

It had been long enough since her time at Solhadur Academy Xaeryn actually had to look up the telephone number before calling. As she listened to the line ringing, she wondered absently how much of a gentle scolding Headmaster Tevanti would give her for her first contact in more than a decade being to ask for something rather than merely catching up. She’d always been the type not to bother people unless she had to. That was, after all, what she preferred. And her self-reliance had carried her through quite a bit. But she was aware most people would differ from her on that point; Tevanti especially was fond of jawing, so he would surely have words for her long silence.

She let it go to ten rings before giving up. Revelation came with a glance at the clock; it was late enough there was likely no one around to answer. No matter. She could drive out tomorrow. The Academy was in Capra, that wasn’t terribly far. (Not for business, anyway.) Headmaster Tevanti wouldn’t mind one of his favorite students dropping in for an hour or so to discuss a relic from one of his favorite historical periods. She’d even engage in small talk, if he wanted.

Xaeryn smiled to herself and locked both the photographs and her notepad in one of the desk drawers. If that was her plan for tomorrow, she should turn in early, make sure she was well-rested. Time for a trip down memory lane.

---

The morning was uneventful, aside from the troublesome discovery she’d left her office unlocked all night. She was normally more attentive than that, even being on a higher floor. But nothing was disturbed or missing, so Xaeryn shrugged it off and got on with her day.

If she selected her wardrobe with a more critical eye than usual, well, she wanted to look professional. Headmaster Tevanti had been a wonderful mentor, and she wanted to show how far his encouragements about using her bright mind and sharp eye had carried her.

(She wondered, briefly, as she pulled on the royal blue skirt and its matching blouse, accented in deep golden-yellow, if she would see any other familiar faces. But she shook off the warmth of the thought; they’d all scattered to the winds after graduation. Getting to see Tevanti would be enough.)

Satisfied with her ensemble, and needing to fill some time before she left, Xaeryn sat at her desk with her notepad and transcribed everything she knew about the missing pendent(not much), along with questions to ask. She picked out the best of the photographs from Mr. Syndran, just in case, and sighed as she looked at the clock. She’d still be a tad early for it to be polite, especially just dropping in out of the blue, if she left now.

So I’ll drive at a leisurely pace, she argued to herself. Take my time. Allowing a buffer in case there’s trouble along the way is only wise. God in heaven, she wished she could figure why she had worse jitters about this than some dates she’d gone on. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she muttered to the empty office.

She locked the remaining photographs back in her desk, slipped the chosen one and her notepad in her handbag. After a moment’s internal debate, she slipped one of her stiletto knives down in her boot as well. Solhadur was far from dangerous, but it was prudent to have some measure of protection when traveling alone. She grabbed a hat on her way out the door--which she made certain to lock this time--and had it securely on her head by the time she reached the car.

----

Despite her efforts to make it a leisurely drive out to Capra, and weather that was perfect for that goal, Xaeryn still found herself standing in the entrance hall of Solhadur Academy at an earlier hour than would usually be considered polite for impromptu business meetings. She debated walking the grounds for a while, revisiting some memories from her time here, but decided simply apologizing for her early arrival was the better course of action.

With a final steadying breath and running one hand down her blouse and skirt to chase away wrinkles, Xaeryn headed for the reception desk. She smiled at the young woman behind it. “Good morning.”

The receptionist blinked, seeming mildly taken aback by how far up she had to look to meet her visitor’s eyes. “Morning, miss. Office hours don’t start until ten-”

“Oh, I’m not a student here,” Xaeryn said with a laugh. “At least, not anymore. And I do apologize for the early appearance, the drive out went much faster than anticipated.”

A brow twitched at that. “And what is it that brings you to Solhadur, miss...?”

“I’m doing research on a selection of artefacts and haven’t been able to turn up much on one.” It was barely a lie; she had read a bit on the other exhibition pieces, even if the pendent was the only one she needed to go deeper. “It’s from a period I know is of particular interest to the headmaster, so I was hoping to speak to him for a while, see if he could help.”

The receptionist pursed her lips. “Former student, you say?”

Xaeryn nodded. “If he’s busy first thing, I don’t mind waiting.”

““No, actually, being early is smart,” the receptionist said with a light laugh. “His hours are more full at the later end of things. This would be the best opportunity if you want some of his time.” She glanced over Xaeryn once more, then nodded. “You can go up. Third door--”

“On the left. I remember,” Xaeryn finished. “Thank you.”

“You might actually beat him there,” the receptionist laughed. “He isn’t always punctual.”

“I remember that, too,” Xaeryn returned with a grin. “Like I said, I don’t mind waiting. It’ll be good to see him again, few more minutes won’t hurt.” She toyed with one of her earrings as she headed up the stairs, steps lingering and heavy with nostalgia.

It was almost exactly as she remembered. A few portraits replaced or rearranged, new photographs from after she left. New name placards outside the doors she passed. The headmaster’s office door was closed, and a light inquiring rap of her knuckles brought no response.

Looks like she was right, Xaeryn thought with a smile, leaning against the chair outside the office to wait. Her gaze drifted to the high ceiling, following the details of familiar carvings to the scenes painted on the ceiling itself. Slightly faded from what she remembered, but that was to be expected after a decade--

“Xaeryn?!” The voice, still familiar even after years apart, sounded like he’d seen a ghost.

Her heart lurched in her chest and she’d spun around before the impulse to do so had even fully registered, his name tumbling from her lips unprompted in return. “Red?!”

He crossed the remaining distance between them in just a few strides(God, he’d gotten taller, how was that even possible?), barely remembered to set the books he carried on the chair before wrapping her in a hug.

Xaeryn didn’t even flinch, and only just managed to keep her grip on her handbag as she hugged him back. He still smelled of old books and ink and sunshine and she smiled at the memories it stirred.

Liefred Antiqua, her seatmate in any classes they shared and best friend regardless of how many they didn’t for the entirely of her time at Solhadur. Friendly, charming, and just as fond of books as he was people. (The nights they’d spent pressed shoulder to shoulder reading in the library were still among her favorite memories.) Between his warm nature and classic good looks, he’d had half the student body swooning after him, and yet despite the sharp contrast to Xaeryn’s more reserved and self-reliant bent, they’d still spent most of their time together. Their friendship was the strongest of the few she’d formed at Solhadur, and Xaeryn valued it immensely.

(Too much to risk on anything like admitting when the sight of his smile sent something that was definitely not friendship fluttering in her chest. It was just a crush, it would go away.)

( And then it didn’t.)

They’d both had plans to travel after graduation, and she couldn’t count on all her fingers combined the number of times she’d almost suggested they do it together. But in this one thing, she never could quite summon the nerve. And before she knew it, her departure date had arrived and they were hugging farewell, and come with me wouldn’t unstick from her throat. After a few months’ silence stretched between them--both traveling and unsure where the other might be, obviously--she’d resigned herself to their paths never crossing again, much as the thought hurt.

And yet here he was.

All the memories flew through her mind in the few seconds their hug lasted, and had a lump starting in her throat by the time they parted.

“Wonderful as it is to see you,” Red began as he stepped back to reclaim his books and run a glance over her, “what are you doing here?”

Xaeryn cleared her throat as she returned the apprising glance with one of her own. He still looked practically the same. A few inches taller, shoulders a bit more broad, and an attempt had been made to tame his bright red hair. It had only achieved partial success, and combined with the warm glint in his green eyes, he still was the same Red she knew. (The same Red she’d been more than a little in love with, even if she’d never dared the risk of admitting it.)

“I’m doing research,” she said, reaching up to tug the back brim of her hat as she glanced at the office door. “Into some artefacts. I wanted to ask Headmaster Tevanti about one in particular that’s being difficult.”

Red grimaced and fumbled his books. “Did you not hear, Xaer?” His voice went soft on the nickname, despite them being alone. Voices did carry in these halls, as they very well knew. “Tevanti died.”

She blinked, shock and sorrow curling in her chest. “Wh- How? When?”

“Not long after you left, actually,” he said, raking his free hand through his hair and tousling it out of respectability. “You know he’d been having problems with his heart. It gave out a few months after you left.” His brow furrowed. “I’m surprised you weren’t told when you set an appointment.”

“I didn’t so much set an appointment as show up looking to talk,” Xaeryn admitted with a soft, wry snort. “And I did simply say the headmaster when speaking to the receptionist.” She cocked her head. “Who would that be, now?”

Red smiled sheepishly, half-bit his lower lip. “Me, actually.” He shifted the books to one arm and opened the office door. Slightly nonplussed by two such major revelations in a row, Xaeryn was silent as she followed him in.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” was the first thought to pop in her head and then out her mouth as she looked around the office. It was spacious, lined with jam-packed bookshelves(He must be in heaven), and in a state of... corralled disarray that was so very Red it made her smile despite the news about Tevanti.

“I did,” Red replied, setting the books on his desk. “And I got to, at least a bit.” He tucked a handful of papers inside an open tome occupying one of the chairs, flipped the book closed, and set it on a side table so he could offer her a seat. “I’d already left when he passed, so Professor Rumi and some others kept things going until I got back.” Rather than sit in the chair behind the desk, he shuffled a small stack of books onto the floor and sat in the one next to Xaeryn’s as he continued. “He’d... wanted me as his successor, Xaeryn.”

“That makes sense.” The words were out before she could weigh them, spurred by the disbelief in his hesitation. “You’re brilliant, charming, and have a history with the school.” Her face warmed in the wake of being so candid, and Xaeryn glanced over at the large painting of Tevanti that hung on the wall between two bookshelves. He knew what he was doing. “You’re a logical choice.”

Red laughed warmly. “High praise from the smartest student in our class.”

“But far from the most charming,” she countered with a wry smile.

The warmth of his gaze didn’t abate. “I’ve always appreciated your-”

“Bluntness?”

“Straight-forwardness,” Red substituted, and was smiling when she looked his way. “An ability to cut to the heart of the subject is an invaluable skill.”

Xaeryn gave a faint shake of her head. “As is your kindness. But speaking of the heart of the matter...”

“Ah, right. You came here for a reason.” He pushed his unbuttoned shirtsleeves up toward his elbows. “I can’t promise to know as much as Tevanti would have, but I’ll certainly do my best to help.”

“Actually...” She snapped open her handbag to pull out the photograph and her notepad. “You’ve done a lot of research on pre-Autarchy history, so you might be able to help more than you think.” She set the photograph on the desk and Red cocked his head to look at it.

“Solimer’s torch...” he murmured, turning the photograph for a better look as his gaze gained that focus of a niche interest being whetted. (Which, for Red, meant she was about to hear everything he knew about the pendent’s history in too much detail to called a summary, and Xaeryn found herself leaning forward slightly in anticipation.) He glanced up at her. “Isn’t this one of the pieces in that exhibit about to open in Haven?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m researching it.” She bit her lip but barely hesitated on the gamble of her next words. ‘Those you trust’, Mr. Syndran had said, and there was no one she trusted more than Liefred Antiqua. “It was stolen, and I was hired to find.”

His head came up, derailed from the growing ramble on the pendent’s history. “Oh?”

“I’m a detective,” Xaeryn said, playing with one of her earrings. She laughed softly. “Scrying does give a considerable leg up to finding things. Or people. But that only works when--”

“You know enough about them,” Red nodded. “So this visit is for business, rather than personal.”

“Mostly, yes,” she conceded, resting one hand on his knee. I didn’t know you’d be here. “But I was more than willing to chat with Tevanti” --there was a pang in her chest--”which most definitely extends to you as well, Headmaster Antiqua.”

His neck and ears went faintly pink as he laughed. “Surely we don’t need to be quite so formal, Detective Shrike?”

“Just ‘Miss’,” she returned with a laugh of her own, withdrawing her hand to instead fiddle with her notepad. “I work for myself, not the cops.” There might’ve been a little pride in her voice at the words, but it was well-earned.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” Red said, turning her own remark back on her.

“And travel I did,” Xaeryn said lightly. “For quite a while, even. But a girl does need a job eventually, and I’ve always loved a good mystery.”

“Or even a bad one,” he teased. “All kidding aside, Miss Shrike, I’m sure you’re a brilliant investigator.”

She smiled, chuckling at the playful glint in his eye even as her ears warmed at the praise. “Thank you. And on that note, what can you tell me about the pendent?”

“Right, right. You’re here on business.” Amusement lingered in Red’s eyes even as he turned back to the photograph. His sleeves started to slide and he shoved them back up again. Xaeryn very deliberately kept her focus on the photograph, not his arms--or hands--as he tapped one finger at the center of the obsidian pendent. “This was a protection... charm, I suppose you’d call it, worn by the head of the Solimer tribe ages ago. Literal ages. Without refreshing my memory, all I can tell you is they were one of the few tribes whose wanderings regularly took them through the heart of the Jalis desert, and yet they always fared better on those journeys than the other tribes, which was credited to this pendent.”

“So it is magical?” Xaeryn leaned closer to look over the piece again, not that a photograph could do it full justice. This was a familiar position; the two of them bent over a shared project, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed it until that moment.

“Possibly?” Red shifted and his shoulder bumped hers. “ The story goes that on their first attempt to journey through, they saw a light, like a torch, keeping pace with them. It only showed up at night, and seemed far enough away from their caravan the chief felt it was too dangerous to let anyone go after it to see what it was. Their wariness at its presence, however, kept them vigilant enough they were able to see and fend off any wild animals that came after them, and it did nothing except travel their same path, so they let it be.

“A couple weeks into their journey, as their supplies were starting to run low, the chieftain’s wife was out hunting and strayed far enough in search of food that the sun started setting while she was out. As the skies grew dim she could see the Torch, much larger than they usually did from the caravan, though it was floating away. Seized by good old-fashioned curiosity” --he paused to wink at her and Xaeryn bit back a smile-- “she followed the light rather than work her way back to camp. She kept after it long enough night had nearly fallen when it crested a ridge and disappeared. She hastened after it, and when she made it over the ridge, found herself standing by a waterspring the likes of which they’d never seen. When she looked around for the light she’d followed, there was no sign of it, save a black rock that lay at her feet. There were no other rocks anywhere nearby, so she decided this must be what had caused the torch-like light her tribe had seen.

“She carried it with her when she returned to the tribe with news of water, and the Solimer took it as a sign of the gods’ favor. The chieftain had it bound in bronze” --he traced a finger along the lines of the coiled setting-- “to be worn as a way to hold that favor. It was passed from leader to leader and from all accounts they had far better luck surviving the desert than the other tribes for a long time.”

“Was that not likely just them knowing better how to handle themselves? If they traveled those portions of the desert more frequently, of course they were better prepared.”

“Maybe.” Red shrugged. “We have no firsthand written records from any of these tribes, just legends and history relayed orally. And a lot of the second-hand ones were... lost when the Autarchy came to power. From the way the stories run, after generation of favor from the pendent, it was lost when the Solimer were defeated in a skirmish over resources with another tribe. Their next several trips went so poorly it cost over half their number, and they wound up assimilated into other tribes within the next couple decades just to survive.”

“Sad,” Xaeryn murmured, though she wondered if the pendent’s loss had become a self-fulfilling prophecy if they believed in it that strongly. “And what happened to the pendent after that?”

“That’s all I know off the top of my head,” Red said sheepishly as he sat back, running a hand through his hair. “Anything more I’d have to research. To refresh my memory.”

“Oh, that’s all? Tsk, tsk, Liefred, you’re slipping,” she teased, then snorted a wry chuckle. “Of course, it’s more than I had.” She showed him the scant lines on a single page of her small notepad.

Red smiled at the sight of the shorthand and let the playful ribbing slide as he ran a finger over the page. “You tweaked it.”

“A bit, to make it jive better with detective work.” Xaeryn tucked the pad back in her handbag. She’d been so caught up listening to him talk she’d not taken a single note. “I’m certain you could work it out with a little time.”

“Oh, time-” Red’s gaze flew to the clock at the same moment there was a knock and muffled “Headmaster?” at the door. “Damn. Forgot I have a meeting.” He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tribulations of being in charge. Just a minute!” he called toward the door, then, to Xaeryn, “I can look into this more in my free time, if you’d like.”

What free time? she almost asked, looking at the stacks of books and papers everywhere. But she swallowed that in favor of, “That would be lovely, thank you so much.”

“Any specific information you need?” Red asked as they stood.

“Anything you can find is welcome, but specifically.... What happened to the pendent after the Solimer lost it, who would have claim of ownership, if ownership is contested... anything like that. I want to find it, but part of that may very well lie in figuring out who would have most reason to steal it in the first place.” Xaeryn pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “So I don’t wind up nagging you,” she laughed. “You can call when you find something. The telephone’s in my office, but I live adjacent, so I’ll always hear it.”

Red nodded and slipped the card in his pocket. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

“Much appreciated. Also...” She grimaced slightly. “This is something of a secret; the Couriers don’t want it being common knowledge.”

“Understandable,” he said as they started toward the door. “Oh, don’t you need this?” He reached back for the photograph and held it out to her.

“Yes, thanks.” Xaeryn smiled and tried not to let the flutter in her chest when their fingers brushed as she took it gain purchase. She slipped the photograph back in her handbag as Red opened the door. Given the student waiting in the hall, she was the picture of professionalism--aside from the twinkle in her eye--as she nodded farewell. “Thank you for your time, Headmaster.”

Several things flashed through Red’s eyes, the brief desire to strangle her, a loud burst of laughter, an eyeroll, but he settled on a warm smile, wide enough his dimples just started to show. “Happy to help, Miss Shrike.”

She was still fighting a grin as she turned to descend the stairs, heart practically singing with warmth. Of all the lovely surprises... Regardless of whether she succeeded or failed, this case was already among the most worthwhile she’d ever taken, simply for bringing him back into her life.

#queens fic #shoh #shepherds summer 2021 #xaeryn shrike #red antiqua #ryn/red #i really got find them a ship tag #if you think their canon pining is good HOO BOY JUST WAIT #flamingelmo.gif #tlbt

25 notes · View notes

patchwork-panda · 3 years

Text

“I won’t do anything. Probably.” (BSD OdaSaku x Reader. Part 1/3)

Title: “I won’t do anything. Probably” Genre: Comedy/Romance/smut Rating: Part 1 is sfw BUT Part 3 will 18+ (aka nsfw) Reader-insert is written as afab/femme/shorter than OdaSaku and 20+ Plot: You are a member of the Port Mafia who has been sent on a “cleanup” job with Oda Sakunosuke, who you have a crush on but won’t admit it. You don’t finish the job until very late at night, at which point, you’re forced to check into a hotel. But there’s just one problem: There’s only one room left. And only one bed.

Mini Fic is written in 2nd person. AO3 link for fic: HERE

Inspired by the [OdaSaku] art of Tsumugi (@tumugi1 on Twitter). I saw this picture and my brain latched onto the whole, “I won’t do anything. Probably.” bit. And wrote a whole fic for it as I was falling asleep on the 24th and amazingly, KEPT writing it when I woke up on the 25th. So, here it is. Call it a belated Xmas gift bc it feels almost like Old Saint Nick dropped it into my head like a filthy piece of coal.

“You’re kidding me.”

The guy at the front desk shakes his head apologetically.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he mumbles, clearly looking every bit as remorseful as he sounds.

He shoots another nervous look at the gun holstered on your hip before catching himself and quickly looking back into your eyes.

He gulps.

Audibly.

“But there really aren’t any more rooms.”

You sigh and take your arm off of the counter. You’d considered draping it over the receptionist’s monitor in an effort to look more intimidating, but when you’d realized your arms were a little too short for that, you’d settled for the counter instead. Luckily for you, though, that one simple motion had been enough to reveal your gun.

Even now, the receptionist looked like he was going to pee himself, but even though your intimidation attempt had been successful, it still hadn’t gotten you the results you wanted.

Oh, well.

At least Nakahara-senpai would be proud of the way you’d conducted yourself just now.

The man you were with, however...

“Well?” you call out, tilting your head back slightly to look at him. “You heard what he said. What do you think we should do?”

You frown.

“Oda-senpai?”

The tall redhead looks up from his phone at last.

“Well, that depends,” he said, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

His sapphire-blue eyes find yours.

“How tired are you?” he asks.

You stop stifling your yawn immediately.

Today was a weird day. Even by your standards. And you were a teenaged runaway who’d gotten picked up by the Port Mafia several years ago.

Ever since that fateful day when you’d made the stupid decision to steal from that convenience store (how were you supposed to know a dump like that was a front for the Port Mafia?), they’d taken you in, given you a place to stay and a purpose. And that purpose was “doing whatever the hell it was they wanted you to do.”

Today, that was one of their infamous “clean-up” jobs.

You’d been on these sorts of jobs before so you didn’t think of it as a big deal at the time. But then they’d handed you the list. Which was a lot longer than it usually was. And then, they’d given you the location.

You hadn’t been sent this far out of Yokohama since that one time Nakahara Chuuya himself had requested you for backup. And even then, it had been an exception. Unfortunately, unlike that time, today’s job wasn’t quick. In fact, it had taken far, far longer than you had expected and you’d ended up working until late into the night.

So late into the night that all the trains back to Yokohama had long since stopped running.

And then it started pouring.

You are now effectively stranded for the night.

You sigh.

There was one bright spot...

You eye the man standing across the lobby, who takes his phone back out one more time in hopes of locating a cell signal.

At least they’d sent Oda Sakunosuke along with you.

“I’m okay,” you say, ignoring the fact that you’d just been yawning not two seconds ago. “Really.”

“Uh-huh,” Oda responds, his bright blue eyes flicking away from his phone once more to scan your face. “So you’re not here to see if you can find a place to rest for the night? You just wanted to get out of the rain until the first train comes?”

It doesn’t quite come across as sarcastic but you’re really not sure what else to call his tone. Humorless, perhaps? It’s hard to tell. Oda is pretty stoic on a normal day and you’ve almost never seen him smile. For one wild moment, you begin to wonder if he’s actually teasing you.

But then you remember you are talking to Oda Sakunosuke.

This is nothing more than a simple, honest question.

He puts his phone away and approaches the counter.

“Either way, walking into this hotel wasn’t a bad idea,” he says, reaching into one of the many pockets in his pale, yellow coat. “I wasn’t exactly looking forward to camping under a bridge in this weather.”

You note the big, muddy footprints his shoes leave in his wake.

The receptionist behind the counter can clearly see them but he looks like he’s still too scared to say anything about it.

Oda leans onto the counter next to you.

“I think we should stay here,” he says. “There’s no way we’re getting back to Yokohama any time soon and besides...”

He lets out a massive yawn. You think you can see a tear glistening in the corner of his eye.

“I’m tired too.”

“But you heard what he said,” you press, as the receptionist jerks away from you (and your gun). “There’s only one room.”

“Yeah, so that means there is a place we can take a nap here,” he says, already pulling out his wallet. “And the fact that there’s only one room here means we can save some money. I know what it means for those of us who get sent out on jobs like this.”

He picks out a card.

“It means we can stand to save a few bucks. Anyway, don’t worry about it.”

He lays the slate-gray piece of plastic against the counter.

“I’ll pay for tonight, okay?”

For a moment, you’re struck speechless.

“Th-that’s not the problem,” you stutter.

Oda just looks at you.

“So, then what is?”

You wonder if one of the hits he’d taken on today’s job had actually done something to his brain.

How could he not see it?

Having a man pay for your hotel room was already bad enough. But the implications of a tall, broad-shouldered, sexy man like Oda Sakunosuke paying for a shared a hotel room with you??

You swallow dryly, hoping against hope that your cell phone wasn’t bugged and that if it was, there was no signal here.

If word got out that you spent the night in a cheap hotel with Oda Sakunosuke, a man who had the kind of rugged charm that would put Clint Eastwood to shame, you would never hear the end of it. You could already see Ozaki Kouyou smirking at you from behind one long pink kimono sleeve the minute you got back to headquarters.

And “I’ll pay for it tonight” he says?!!

As if this whole thing couldn’t SEEM any more suspicious!

You shoot a menacing glare at the receptionist, as if to say “don’t you dare get any ideas.” But the message appears to go right over his head when he sinks just a little further below the counter in abject fear.

“The problem is,” you elaborate, stunned that you even have to say it out loud. “That we’d be sleeping. In the same room.”

Oda continues to just look at you.

“So?”

You make up your mind to ask the Boss to check Oda for brain damage when you get back tomorrow. Mori used to be a doctor, right?

Oda sighs.

“Listen,” he says, sliding his card towards the receptionist, nodding kindly to the young man as if he were a timid baby bird instead of a grown human being. “I know what you’re thinking. And I thought about it too.”

He what?!

Without meaning to, you flush but Oda doesn’t appear to take any notice.

“But it’ll be fine. No matter how you look at it, we’re clearly just a couple of colleagues--”

“Clearly??”

“--who got stranded away from home while out on a business trip,” he finishes, taking his card back from the trembling receptionist. “So, like I said. It’ll be fine. I mean, we’re just sleeping right? We’re both responsible adults. I think we can handle just sleeping next to each other in the same room.”

He looks at you.

“Don’t you?”

You stiffen. Your eyes dart to the key card on the counter that the receptionist is now inching further and further away from. You’d think it was radioactive from the way he was acting...

“I--”

Oda raises an eyebrow.

“Unless...”

Oda inclines his head back towards the windows, where you can now see the rain lashing against the thick glass in the gale.

“You want to camp out under a bridge? Because if you do, I can go with you--”

“No, I definitely don’t,” you tell him, sweeping the key card up in one hand.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch the receptionist take another step away from you as you move. You roll your eyes.

“Let’s just go. It’s late, it’s raining, we’re both tired and you know what, you’re right. As long as you stay in your bed, on your side of the room, I don’t think we’re going to have a problem.”

And as you march down the hallway towards the elevators, you suddenly hear the receptionist calling after you.

“Ah, wait!”

The young man suddenly sounds alarmed.

“There’s only--”

“Hah?”

You turn and shoot him a look and he immediately clams up again, quailing behind the counter.

“N-never mind,” he mumbles, twiddling his fingers as he tries (unsuccessfully) not to look at your gun.

He shoots you a watery smile.

“H-Have a pleasant stay...”

#odasaku x reader #bsd odasaku #bsd odasaku x reader #bsd oda sakunosuke #odasaku x y/n #bsd x reader #odasaku #oda sakunosuke #only one bed #one bed #port mafia reader #port mafia #bungo stray dogs x reader

78 notes · View notes

savrenim · 3 years

Note

hi hi hi. so I just got into the Hamilton fandom, I swear I am four years late where did everybody go, and, well. I am apparently a hamburr shipper. bcs that is my life now. anyway I saw your fic ifmlam and I swear it is my favourite of all the fics I've ever read (and trust me I've read literally thousands). I love it so so much, how do you write fics like that??? I cried about four times during the whole thing, I stayed up till 4am reading it even when I had to wake up at 7 because it is just. that. good. I could not stop thinking about it for days afterwards and ifmlam has just ruined me. I can't think of listen to Hamilton without thinking of ifmlam anymore.

on to my qursttion: is it abandoned? of course it's perfectly FINE if it is. don't let anyone tell u differently, your fic is YOURS and u are amazing.

but pls I really need closure from ur fic, it has been haunting me if its abandoned or ongoing and I've read ur other fics and they are just chefskiss and thank you so much for writing them all. thank you thank you thank you, I will never be able to thank you enough for writing this fic and for everything it's done for me. I am probably thousands of miles away but I am sending you virtual jugs through a co.puter screen right now.

(don't feel pressured to reply to this or update it flam, I know how overwhelming it can get with so many messages and after a while u get desensitized to it. u can literally reply "thx. itfmlam is abandoned" and I would still be amazingly star struck. anyway has gotten way too long and I need to sleep and I'm sorry u probably won't see this so I'm just talking to myself right now but bye!!)

and thank you so so much for writing itfmlam.

aaaah hello anon!

thank you so so much???? I am so??? honored??? that ifmlam rates so highly to you, and also that you've read my other fics??????

the answer to the "is ifmlam abandoned" question is probably the worst possible one, which is pretty much "I do want to finish it, both for the folks that still want closure as well as it bothers to me have abandoned projects that are in the public eye/ already partially published, but also, it is last on my current writing projects list"

my current actually active writing projects list, kind of in order of priority, is

I'm literally three chapters away from being Actually Fully Done with the not-quite-first-not-quite-second let's call it 1.5th draft of an actual?? full?? original?? novel?? Opus which of course then goes out to beta readers and then gets who-knows-how-much edited and then maybe beta readers again if a lot does change and then a copyeditor my mom, my copyeditor is my mom, and maybe my little brother he's one of the betas but is very good at catching typos and then I!!! get to publish it!!!! which is the single thing I am most excited for!!!!!!!!! this should be closed up in the next week or two, and then take a while for people to actually read the draft and get back to me.

I really desperately want to finish my open-but-like-90%-written fic, which means we raise it up, the final chapter of to the bottom of the river bc I realized that it was kind of incomplete, and the second chapter of a buried and a burning flame because any more work there will need to wait until the author publishes the next book in the series. this should be closed up in the next month or two.

Speedwrite the draft of the second book of the Opus series so that hopefully by the time book 1 edits are happening, I have an almost complete draft of the second book. this is mostly me side-eyeing myself about taking nearly four years to write the first book, but that is solidly in part because I had so many other open projects which point 2 is about clearing that docket. this should be done in the next year.

And then just have my major projects be, at least until books 1-5 are written and published, books 1-5 of that because that is arguably the first major 'plot arc' of the series, so if I'm looking for a pause point on writing, that's probably where to stop.

There are two or three other short side projects (a weird fun second person short story tentatively titled witch-queen, a collection of four short stories Memoirs about a not-so-evil necromancer and the shenanigans he gets up to trying to rule a kingdom, working title Perfectly Normal Recipe Blog which is a collaborative project about a perfectly normal recipe blog that definitely doesn't include anything out of the normal) that will happen when they happen

There are other projects that are on the backburner -- The Numanok Files, a series of probably 12-15 short novellas about a mercenary/ bounty hunter esque person in space whose specialty is dealing with hauntings, but, like, 80% of their jobs is actually "you are effectively a space home inspector pointing out faulty wiring reacting to solar flares/ there's a weird alien fungus/ it's carbon monoxide okay change your atmosphere filters" and 20% of it is punching ghosts; there's a post-post apocalypse novel that I want to write that I know characters and general pacing and half the setting but need to work out the other half and figure out how much aesthetic I want to commit to; there's Strangeside7 aka spacerace book that is my reaction to how much I love how Redline the anime movie commits itself to "no we are about a race, like 60% of the screentime is just fully going to be an utterly ridiculous sci fi space race"; there's even a ridiculous YA trilogy that I would have to completely transplant the setting but might end up writing because the interplay between angel-physics and physics-physics was one of my favorite things in the world. and I guess the weird ridiculous technically a sequel series to ifmlam that was going to be published as original books that was basically me having fun with 'okay I fucking love star wars prequels old rotting space bureaucracy galactic republic style' except with seers and that also still might happen because it does have some of the coolest sci fi concepts and honestly I thiiiink that's all?

but the tl;dr of that timeline is I'm trying to finish a punch of projects Right Now, so that I can write books 2-5 of Opus, and then when I'm done that (which honestly, my average fiction-writing output is close to 100k a year. if I'm concentrating purely on one project, and writing books that are about 100k, we are talking four years. although my job situation is super up in the air in that period and writing might get put solidly on the backburner as I try to make it in academia, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) I will re-evaluate which projects go next, and that's when ifmlam is likely to come up for review.

I do not have any expectations that I will make it as an original author. I'm planning on posting all of my stuff online for free, but, like. it is incredibly difficult to convince people to try out even a piece of free and easily accessibly original work even if one has a huge following, I am a very small fanfiction author, and from what I can tell the majority of the people who are interested in my work are mostly interested in me finishing ifmlam. writing is a hobby for me, and while I'm writing mostly for me--and hence the for me bit at least for the next five years is pretty solidly going to be this series that I am deeply excited about and have sunk my heart and soul into every single aspect of--I'm human, and I don't really like shouting into the void, and I expect if I spend five years publishing to absolutely no response I will either stop writing for a while and do other things gods know my life is busy enough, return to fandom in general to write some other fanfic about whatever I get deeply into, or return to a work that I actually get response to. so ifmlam will probably start getting worked on a bit at that point one way or another. unless, of course, we are in the incredibly rare timeline in which I do make it as an original author, there are people who are deeply hyped for my original works and an actual demand for them, in which case as you may have noticed there are enough ideas there to keep me busy for a decade or two, and they will just get my full attention instead of fanfiction*. in this timeline, I will do what I was considering doing a few years ago, which is officially declare ifmlam otherwise abandoned and make one more giant chapter update which is a full and cleaned up outline of what I was going to write, interspersed with the scenes already written, and have ifmlam be given at least that closure.

*I want to make it clear that I very much love fanfiction and am proud to have been a fanfiction author and in my heart of hearts would keep writing it forever, I just also have a lot of ideas for characters and settings and magic systems and Aesthetics and I have been biting at the bit to write something that is //mine// and all mine and only mine for a while, I don't see original work as superior so much as there are a dozen fandoms that I am currently in and bursting to make content about except oops these fandoms currently only exist in my head, and I want to correct that

of course given how much as writing is my vent activity and I write what I'm in the mood for, there's a chance I'll feel ifmlam cravings before then, just... expect it to take a couple of years for an update, but also for there to be an update one way of another in a couple of years? but as for right now, I'm turning to original writing, because that is what brings me joy.

but I am really deeply honored that it brought you so much joy!!! and while I will never publish spoilers in a public place, if you message me off anon I am perfectly happy to give a run-down of my current plans for the ending, bc I know "wait a couple years and see" is not the most satisfactory of answers! and hey maybe you'll be like me and once you've given Opus a try you'll decide you like it better too, it does have Seers although they are deeply different Seers than in ifmlam but imo it's very gay and fun and at least politics on one side

#my life #my writing #ifmlam

15 notes · View notes

probably-writing-x · 4 years

Text

Innocence never looked so good

Valerio x Reader

Request by anon : I love your writings🧡🧡they’re what keeps me busy during this sucky time. If you’re still taking asks, I was wondering if you could write about Valerio and him meeting a new transfer scholarship student. At first he’s not really interested bc she’s pretty innocent but then he ends up falling for her. Kind of like Guzman and Nadia I guess. I mean you could honestly write it anyway you want and if love it 🥺 this was just ask. If not it’s understandable :))

Gif is not my own

Requests are open🤍

“So is this how it works here?” It was a boy from the back of the class that spoke up, “You just dish out scholarships left right and centre?”

He was a tall, slim boy with wild dark curls being his typically distinctive feature. You were more drawn to the sharp structure of his face and how he seemed so nonchalant about his extroverted personality. He was leaning back in the chair with his legs on top of the desk and his arms stretched out like he was opening himself to the world.

“Valerio, not now,” The teacher rolls his eyes, “(Y/n) is just as deserving of her place here as any of you are. I expect you to make her welcome as you would do with any paying student, understood?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and blink a couple of times at the intimidating crowd in front of you. You weren’t the most confident at the best of times so starting a new school was already an experience you feared - let alone when that school was filled to the brim with rich kids that you’d never fit in with.

The only spare seat in the class happened to be beside this Valerio so you walk your way over and stand awkwardly beside his desk.

“Can I sit here?” You ask quietly, forcing yourself to remain calm, “Please?”

He lets a smirk dance across his lips as he trails his eyes up and down your form, tapping his pen on the table with one hand, “Okay, (Y/n).”

Valerio swings his legs down and shuffles in his chair to make room for you beside him. You set your bag down beside you and pull out the books that you needed for the lesson, along with your pencil case.

“Fuck,” Valerio says a little too loudly, “She really is a nerd.”

You blush furiously at his comment but keep your head down nonetheless, scribbling down the date and the title of the lesson.

“Valerio!” The teacher warns, “Do I need to tell you again that your father’s money can easily be replaced?”

He rolls his eyes as a stunning girl from a few rows in front turns around and glares at him - an evident warning behind her perfected eyes.

Valerio ignores you for the rest of the lesson, spending half of his time staring out of the window and the other half trying to see how far he could rock back on his chair.

- - - - - -

You’re sat next to Valerio in that class every single day and every day is the same. You wait for him to move his feet from the table, you sit down and get on with the work and he finds any way possible of avoiding the work. It continues like that again and again every single day.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down,” He comments as you sit down on one random Monday morning.

You’d managed to make a few friends at Las Encinas - the other scholarship students really. But you tried your best to remain under the radar.

“I don’t ever really think about it,” You shrug, tucking a stray lock behind your ear as you scribble down the date.

“It’s nice.”

It’s weird to hear Valerio say anything remotely close to a compliment, even if it was something minor. But you find yourself looking at him with a little frown.

“You don’t think I have it in me to be polite?” He cocks a brow, “I’ll have you know I’m a gentleman, (Y/n).”

“If you say so,” You shrug and it’s like the tiniest spark of fire he’s ever seen from you. It takes him aback a little even if it shouldn’t. You were always so passive, and yet you’d had that tiniest fraction of sass in your words then that threw him just a little off balance.

He watches you a little bit more that day, wanting to know the person behind who you were when you sat beside him.

- - - - - -

The next morning, Valerio is still in his normal position in the chair as you come in but there’s a rose left on your side of the table.

“What’s this?” You question, picking it up to make space for your books.

He shrugs and shifts his legs, as usual, “I have no idea.”

“Well, you must’ve seen who put it down,” You comment, turning it over in your hands, “Who was it?”

“Can’t have been me,” He pushes himself off from the table using his firmly planted hands so that he rocks back on his chair, “I’m not romantic enough.”

- - - - - -

There continue to be little moments like that. A week later, he left a book on the table that he claimed was a brilliant read under his own recommendation. Next, it was a new notepad from when he saw you were coming to the end of yours. Sometimes, it would just be a note where he’d scribbled a poem quote that he liked. And, oddly, you found yourself looking forward to each day where you may or may not find a little gesture given from the extroverted boy that sat beside you. He didn’t show any interest in you outside of those moments, ignoring you in every other class, never acknowledging you in the hallways - but that one class every morning was his slight moment with you where he did show that side.

It’s a number of weeks later and things had started to deteriorate for you yet again at home. Your parents were what you’d call ‘missing in action’ - where they reprised their regular roles of being shitty parents by abandoning you with no knowledge of when they’d return. Normally, it would be for a cheap holiday they’d booked and not told you about, or because their drug-fuelled minds had considered it a brilliant idea to head off to somewhere unknown. Whatever it was, it always circled back eventually. And you’d be left alone yet again.

This time, it had meant that you’d barely been sleeping. So you’d decided to show up to school early and you found yourself sitting in the class before anybody else had even arrived.

When Valerio walks in, he stops in his tracks.

“The introvert, the woman of routine, breaking the cycle?” He gasps, sauntering over to you with all levels of confidence as he always managed to hold.

You must’ve looked an absolute state. Your hair was pulled into a bun, your eyes darkened by the purple circles that carried their weight, your clothes weren’t as neat as you tried to keep them and every part of you felt a little detached from your normal self.

Valerio strolls around your chair and flops down into the one next to you, “What caused the change, (Y/n)?”

When you don’t respond to him with a polite or sassy response, and he’s instead met with silence, he frowns and leans toward you in his chair.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, quiet and cautious like he was saying it with genuine care.

You run your hands over your hair to smooth it somewhat and look at him with the most forced smile you had the energy to give, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

With that, you go about all the parts of your normal routine. Pen out, books open, date in the top right hand corner. But there’s something about the shaky breath that you release and the way that your eyes seem just on the verge of pouring that makes Valerio struggle to ever take his eyes off of you. He’d never felt so serious in one of these classes. And it wasn’t an important topic or a test he should be trying to pass. It was because this girl beside him had a lot more than her passive exterior showed - and he couldn’t imagine just how much she’d had bottled up inside this whole time.

- - - - - -

The next morning, and the next and the next, you’re sat in that class before him again. There was something about being at school that made you not feel so alone so you’d been making the most of the hours you could spend here. Valerio expresses concern every morning by asking if you were okay and you even start to notice him steal glances in your direction every time you were in his class or you passed him at school.

This one morning, he comes in to find you practically half-asleep at the desk. You don’t pay attention to when he sits down and your books are already open but they’re empty and lifeless on the desk.

“No date this morning?” He nudges you, noticing how your appearance had changed day by day. Deteriorating little by little.

He’d even noticed how your lips seemed a little bit more chapped and your hands seemed drier and less youthful.

You flinch from your daze and try to shake it off, “Yeah, right. Um, what are we doing today?”

And it’s odd how much his heart drops at the question. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t the girl he’d grown so used to seeing every single morning in the same light. That light had dimmed. And he felt it within him that he couldn’t possibly let that light dim any more without at least an attempt at reigniting it again.

- - - - - -

When you come into school early the next morning, it startles you to turn on the light and not be alone in the class. Valerio sat at the desk with his feet up on the table and a proud smirk on his face.

“I beat you,” He comments, “Eventually.”

You wish you had the energy to respond with something witty, but it had been near enough ten days without your parents now - ten days of being alone in the flat without heating in the middle of winter, with the broken fridge and the oven that never heated up properly.

“Hey, we have a test coming up next week,” Valerio comments, “Do you mind helping me study?”

“A test?” You frown, having no recollection of anything being mentioned, “Yeah, yeah, I guess that’s okay.”

It pains him. You were clearly going through something that went beyond the realm of school drama. And yet you’d still agreed to help him with no real reason to accept his request. You could’ve easily said no. You had no obligation to help the boy who was yet to put in an ounce of effort to any day at this place. But he knew that no part of your good heart would have it in you to say no when he’d asked for help.

“Great,” He grins, “Shall we say your place tonight?”

“I-“ You stop yourself, “Could we not go somewhere else?”

“Lu will be at mine, school will be closed, and it’s too cold to go anywhere outside,” He explains, “I’ll meet you there for six.”

“How do you know where I live?”

“I have my ways.”

Those ways consisted of his actions this morning whilst he was waiting for you to make your early entrance to school. He’d broken into the filing cabinet of the school office until he found the file that belonged to you, not looking any further than at the address in the top right hand corner - he’d hope that your meeting with him tonight would tell him the rest of the information that the file couldn’t.

- - - -

At just past six, there’s a repeated buzzing to try to get into your flat and you let Valerio up cautiously. This all seemed very weird. Why had he bothered? He was Lu’s brother - if he needed help with studying why wouldn’t he go to her.

He comes into your flat, still dressed in his school uniform as he smiles widely at you, “So this is your humble abode.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m guessing you didn’t expect much from the scholarship student.”

“It’s nice,” He pokes his head around every corner, “It’s quaint. Are your parents out?”

You scoff before you can stop yourself, “You could say that.”

He looks at you like he had a million more questions to ask but you interject before he can continue. He sits down at one of the seats on your dining table.

“So, I haven’t really prepared much for studying, I figured we could just go through the content and then see which bits you struggle with the most-“

“(Y/n), are you okay?” He cuts in, showing more compassion in that one question than you’d heard from anyone for a long time.

You swallow the lump in your throat, “I told you I’m fine. Can we please just get on with studying?”

“It’s me, of course I didn’t come here to study,” He rolls his eyes, “You can talk to me, you know?”

“Why would I do that? So you can go and tell the rest of them that the new scholarship kid actually has a kind of shitty life at the minute?” Your anger bubbles and you’re not really sure what causes it, “I’m not one of you guys and I know that.”

“Is that really what you think of me? You think I’ve come here to humiliate you,” The look of realisation on his face makes you instantly beyond guilty.

“How could I not expect that?” You sigh, “You said it yourself on my first day.”

“Things have changed since then, (Y/n).”

“Have they? Because you’re nice to me every single morning for an hour, and then the rest of the day consists of you acting like I don’t exist - I see it Valerio, I’m not an idiot,” You shake your head, “Why would I assume that much has changed?”

“Because I care about you (Y/n),” He sits upright and you can tell he cares about what he’s about to say, “I see you every morning and it’s like I’ve seen you go through this whole change since the start of the year. You became more confident and you came out of your shell, and then it all seemed to drop recently. I made up the fact that we had a test and I went into school when it was still dark so I could find your address, and then I walked myself here just so I could come and see you outside of that stupid desk at the back of the class.”

You stay silent. That was true. You couldn’t take for granted the fact that Valerio had been nice to you recently, and conscious of how much you seemed to deteriorate. You watch as he lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag.

“What’s this then? Valerio’s got feelings for the scholarship kid? I don’t think Lu will be impressed.”

You watch his lips curl into a smile and how his teeth flash bright against his dark curls, “I think she’d be surprised about me having feelings for anyone.”

And just like that, it’s probably the most genuine smile youve had in weeks.

349 notes · View notes

burnt-tomato · 4 years

Note

herro!! can you write hcs for when noya and tendou gets jealous? like what would they be like? I feel like noya would rolling thunder someone’s ass HAHAH

♤: aye thanks for the ask!! Got braindead for a sec and couldn’t answer lmao. Ayt here are your headcannons. Also idk if you meant jealous as if talking to another mAn or jealous of your traits or who you are, so imma do both

»»--------------------------------------------------►

Nishinoya Yuu

If I were you I wouldn’t make this guy jealous lol

He’s probably jealous of your height let’s face it

Rolling thunder his ass what the hEcC lmao imma try to make that work

Jealous because of you talking to another guy

Noya is really protective of you bc he loves you a lot and is afraid to lose you and probably bc you’re the first and only to return his feelings

Made sure that everyone in the school class knew about your relationship. Yes even the team.

When a guy talks to you, let it be classmates, a friend or your brother bc why the hell not right? He will gLARE at them

Let’s say the 2 of you are in the same class. You were paired with a random guy for a partner project, and this rose a huge red flag for Noya

During class you and let’s name the random guy A, A had to sit next to eachother bc teacher's rules suck. You were wAy to0 cl0se to eachother, according to Noya's rules and regulations. More glaring yay.

You and A seem very… mmmmm friendly lol and Noya is n0t enjoying this

♤: aye sorry for cutting this but ya think Noya likes his girlfriend, if he gets one, more than Asahi and Kiyoko? My AsaNoya heart

Even when the project ended, you and A wanted to get to know eachother and be friends for plot and I’m pretty sure Noya is about to rolling thunder his ass

♤: not sure if noya is the threatening kind tho

Smashes down your door violently pulls you outside of class and to a corner ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). "Y/n... You better not tell me that you're planning to leave me for someone else.." "Yuu, why the hell would I do that? I only wanted to be friends with him because he's actually nice." "But I- sorry y/n. I'm just afraid of losing you." *hug hug cUdDlE hug because I can't describe scenarios like this lol*

Jealous because of someone flirting with you

There was this one particular guy who kept on looking at you and when you'd look back, he'd smile. Noya noticed this and let it slide for a few times, but that didn't last long. He soon felt itchy and bothered that someone's looking at you with a smile all the time.

He isn't quiet about it either. Everyday after class the guy staring at you (let's name him B) would wave his hand at you and say stuff like "see you tomorrow y/n" or when you and Noya arrive together at class he's be all "good morning y/n! Beautiful as ever!" And hoo boy Noya isn't happy. He would always say "Fuck off, you bastard. She's taken." And B will just belp at both of you.

Noya always tried to tackle the guy, but you always stopped him from doing so. Even if he wants to kill the guy or shout at him so bad, you keep reminding him to control his emotions. Idk if I were the girl i would offer Noya to double team B lol.

But hoo boy he cannot do that. B tool it to the next level and Noya couldn't keep it all in anymore.

It happened during a school day. Classes just ended and Noya told you to go on ahead and he'll just catch up, but just as you got out the door, B gripped you by the arm and pulled you by the door.

*peptalking my self* Ok Vy you can do this. You just have to make it look like B did a smooth move there even if you're bad with dialogues

"Hey hey y/n, you've been avoiding me for a long time now, and it's getting on my nerves." He whispers unto your ear. Noya hurry tf up your bae be in trouble. He places his thumb and index finger on your chin lifting it up and you can smell what he ate this morning

Ok Vy you can do this. "Look, I don't know if you're ignoring me because of that tiny guy, but I'll tell you now that he isn't good for you and you're too good for someone like him. You deserve someone better. Yknow, some like... me?" He smirks. You are hella disgusted

Who is this Bimbo trashtalking Noya. "So, y/n, could you be kind enough to give me your number and address~`>~~<~•||•《•¤○《•" wow I can't do this.

For a split second, you felt a hand travel to your back collar pulling to aside, revealing Noya, who was glaring daggers at B, while B was still smirking

"Hey hey now junior student, I was talking to y/n here, and you just disturbed our conversation." "Did I really? Oh sorry, but can I inform you that she's taken, nd if you want to leave school alive, you better step away now and never talk to her again." Noya says, trying his hardest to keep his composure and not lose control

"Geez fine already. You don't have to throw a fit about it. She wasn t worth my time anyways." He says walking away waving his right hand. "What did that bastard say about yo-?" You pulled Noya back. "It's fine now. He's gone." Noya was still frustrated, and you tried to cool him off.

*insert hugs and other stuff bc I'm uncomfortable writing those lolllll* you both go to the gym, and Noya forgot about what he was mad about as soon as he was playing and saw Kiyoko

Bonus

You're jealous of Kiyoko and Asahi bc even if Noya is dating you now, he still goes crazy over Kiyoko and hangs out around Asahi all the time lol

Tendou Satori

This is definitely someone I won't get jealous

Very underrated boy I love him

Jealous because of you talking to another guy

The time this happened was when you 2 were at the bookstore for the weekly jump. He left you for a while to look for the book while you hung around the novel books that you're probably not interested in

You saw a book that you got interested in, but was too high bc u short. You struggled reaching it, then goes a guy (I'll name him C). He reached the book for you and you bowed to thank him.

"Oh [ insert book title ]? You read that?" He asks. "Not really, it just looked interesting." You said. You both started chatting about that book, and then switched to your hobbies and other stuff.

Then Tendou comes. He wraps his lanky arm around you, forcing you to move back. And you're literally in a book section, so it's probably cramped. He looks at the guy, well, looking d0wn bc he t0l as hEcC.

"Eehh? So you're the guy I heard talking to y/n.. You better not be planning things to do to her, if you are you better prepare to go through me." The guy apologizesand waves you goodbye

"Satori, we were just talking about stuff we had similarities on.. He wasn't hitting on me." You say. "Oh? I guess my guess blocking only works on volleyball and not outside huh.. well anyway have you seen this week's jump? It's really interesting and has this-" starts rambling about the weekly jump. You were surprised yet used to this. Him being mad at first, then quickly turns back to normal when talking to you.

Jealous because of someone flirting with you

Mm m m m m m mm m mmm

̿'̿'\̵͇̿̿\З=( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)=Ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿

I just like making use of the fact he loves reading the weekly jump and is in the bookstore whenever he isn't playing volleyball

You were both at the mall to shop for something ᕕ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ and you both stopped for a bit in the bookstore. You hung out by the entrance while Tendou went inside bc he takes a hell lot of time lol.

You were minding your own business playing on your phone when this random guy walked up to you and pressed a finger on your phone, lowering it (let's name the guy D( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

"Hey hey beautiful~~~□•□•□•□□•□ [♤: I'm getting the big cringe lol]. Would you mind me asking for your number?" He asks with a smirk. You didn't know how to response or how to react during that time so you stood frozen, tilting your head to your left. You shook your head, signaling a 'no', but the guy insisted. He kept whispering (ง ͡ʘ ͜ʖ ͡ʘ)ง and that made you really uncomfortable [♤: ew.]

You felt the door you had your hand on move away, then the next thing you knew, a tall lanky guy stood next to You, keeping his line of vision on D.

They started arguing, D protesting that you 2 were just having a friendly conversation. "Look, from inside, it was obvious that you were flirting with MY y/n. She shook her head multiple times and it was given that she was uncomfortable. So if you KINDLY would move away from her and never come back, that would really be appreciative." He says

You heard D make a 'tch' sound and walked away with a frustrated expression.

"You didn't really know that he was flirting huh? If it was obvious you could be come sooner." "Sorry the last time I butted in with your conversation with a guy I was mistaken, so I decided to make sure first." He said with a smile scratching the back of his head.

You 2 were about to leave when the shop owner said "Sir you will have to pay for that." Tendou was about to pay when he saw what happened. He laughed a little and went back inside apologizing.

»»--------------------------------------------------►

♤: I'm getting more inactive lmao But I'm still answering asks. Feel free to send in reqs for headcannons, scenarios and oneshots. The askbox is always open lol ̿'̿'\̵͇̿̿\З=( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)=Ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcannons #hq #hq headcannons #haikyuu Nishinoya #haikyuu Nishinoya headcannons #haikyuu Nishinoya x reader #Nishinoya x reader #haikyuu tendou Satori #haikyuu tendou #haikyuu tendou x reader #Tendou x reader #hq Tendou Satori #haikyuu Nishinoya Yuu #hq Nishinoya Yuu #hq Nishinoya x reader #hq Tendou x reader #jdndjdndjndjfjfjd

28 notes · View notes

in-tua-deep · 5 years

Text

Masterlist of AUs

okay i’m never putting anything under a read more ever again bc i deleted this whole ass thing and now i’m redoing it so forget me worrying about it being long af it’s what it is my friends

me, scrolling back through my blog: where tf are all my aus smh

(this is why i need them all in one place)

so without further ago, here we go (the title brings you to the tag on my blog, the numbers bring you the posts for that au):

short stay au - Five jumps forward into the apocalypse and gets stuck, but not for forty-five years. No, in fact, Five is only stuck for one year before he figures out how to get home. Which means the Hargreeves get a lap full of traumatized teenage boy with no idea who the Commission agents trying to kill them are (one)

dolores is the universe au - Dolores isn’t just a mannequin, she’s actually the concept of the universe. The only reason Five can hear her is because overuse of his powers has given him enough exposure to the rift between world that she can reach him. But how to explain this to the siblings who think he’s just traumatized? (one, two, three)

immortal au - The first time Five died, he didn’t know it. The second time was harder to explain. The third and the fourth... well. In the apocalypse, Five figures out that he can’t die, which would be fine except every time he dies he resets himself to thirteen. Puberty? Again? Everyone is more than a little concerned about Five’s lack of concern over his welfare, but hey he’ll start caring again when he’s got further to fall okay? (one)

imaginary friend au - When Five was little, he had an imaginary friend named Dolores. He had that imaginary friend for far longer than he should have, to the point where Reginald intervened. And so they all remember this when Five pops back up toting around a mannequin and calling her Dolores, the only difference is Five has stopped giving a single fuck what old Reggie had to say and he isn’t giving up his friend again so easily (one)

instant arrival au - When Five jumps forward, he doesn’t jump into the apocalypse. Instead, he jumps straight into his father’s funeral. He sort of treats it as a weird vacation until he finds out Ben is dead and tries to return, and finds out he can’t. Now his siblings have to deal with a thirteen-year-old brother who saves the day by just being himself (one, two, three)

barking mad au - Vanya’s apocalypse was more targeted and only killed the humans. Five jumps into the apocalypse and instead of being alone, he’s adopted by the feral packs and colonies that have cropped up. He learns to bark and purr and growl and hiss to communicate, finding friends and family where humanity is gone. Of course, this makes returning to said humanity more than a little bit tricky. It’s not his fault his siblings are dense and don’t understand body language, ugh. (one, two, three)

pushed au - Instead of forbidding time travel, Reginald encourages it. He pushes Five to try it, and so when Five vanishes it’s Reginald’s fault. Written off as no great loss, the siblings realize how disposable they are. Who of them will be the next Five? Trust broken, they don’t stick around to find out and run away. When Five returns, it’s to a very different family who has learned how to depend on one another and protect each other. Together, they figure out how to stop the apocalypse (one)

memory mishap au - The siblings take Five’s hands and jump back in time, and it works! They’re thirteen again! Except for the fact that Five had managed to forget everything that happened since the day he decided to jump forward in time the first time. It’s the others turn to protect him as they run away. Five tries to get his memories back, but is that really what’s best? (one, two)

ghost five au - Five doesn’t leave. He stays, and when that one fateful day happens where one of them is slated to die, Five decides to bite the bullet and take Ben’s place. Even knowing Klaus’s powers, he wasn’t really expecting to wake up as a ghost. He somehow unites the family through the power of being irritating and getting Klaus involved. (one)

broken five au - Reginald puts his foot down once and for all about time travel, by threatening Vanya’s life if Five puts another toe out of line. Five, fully believing his father capable of getting rid of the ‘useless’ child, shuts down. When his siblings find out what broke Five, they all decide to run away for their own safety as much as Vanya’s. They end up adopted by a woman happily living in the woods in her cabin who wasn’t expecting to adopt seven children but here she is and she certainly isn’t returning them to Reginald so. Seven kids it is. (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven)

run nanny run au - Look the nannies aren’t blind. They know Reginald doesn’t care about the kids and is looking at them like they’re weapons and not people, so it really shouldn’t be as surprising as it is that they decide to just take the kids and run one day. They are going to give these seven toddlers normal childhoods if it kills them, even if they have to dodge Reginald and the law as they do so. And no one forces Vanya to eat oatmeal like damn (one)

travel forward au - Instead of taking them back, Five miscalculates. It shouldn’t be unexpected, seeing as Five has never taken passengers before. But he manages to slingshot them directly into the future - into the apocalypse. The family gets a first hand look at how Five lived for forty years and gain a better understanding of their brother as he frantically works to get them all out again before they starve to death. (one, two)

daemon au - a crossover with the His Dark Materials universe by Philip Pullman, the Umbrella Academy live in a world where their souls walk beside them in the form of animals made of a material called dust. Of course, with these guys it can never be that simple. Ben’s daemon didn’t vanish upon his death and hangs out with Klaus, Luther and Diego’s daemons are always fighting, Allison’s is lazy and disagrees with her constantly, there’s something off about Vanya’s, and Five’s hasn’t settled yet. It’s certainly a bit of a mad house. (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, art)

plush companion au - Dolores wasn’t the only friend Five made in the apocalypse. A terrified and grieving child, he built himself a city out of statues and mannequins and stuffed animals. He built himself an entire world in his own imagination to keep himself from crumbling to insanity. Of course, his siblings have a few question after their brother turns back up and suddenly there’s toys turning up in the manor? (one)

atla au - a crossover with Avatar: The Last Airbender, aka all the kids are benders. In a universe where the Xth avatar is foretold to bring about the end of the world, Reginald manages to get his hands on seven children born whose mother’s hadn’t been pregnant when the day began. Apparently he’s training them to defeat this eventual evil avatar, but little do they know that said avatar is among them and tricked into believing she’s a nonbender (one, two)

suppression au - Reginald doesn’t just use his power suppression drugs on Vanya, he uses them as punishment on the others. They learn that their powers can be taken away on a whim and as punishment, and they’re forced to adapt. Five teaches Vanya the skills he learns to cope without powers, because without them they’re on the same level of competency. Vanya realizes just because she’s ordinary she isn’t useless. A more confident and competent Vanya results, and it changes the future for the better (one)

pianist five au - Vanya isn’t the only child who picks up an instrument. Five learns how to play the decorative piano in the mansion so that he can accompany Vanya’s practice. It becomes more than a hobby. In the end, when words can’t get through to the White Violin, it’s perhaps only music that can soothe the savage beast. (one)

artist klaus au - Klaus was a good artist as a child before Reginald deemed art as being ‘childish’ and forbid it. He forgets until he does some art therapy in rehab, and reignites his passion. He steals notebooks and art supplies and does drawings and caricatures for a quick buck on the streets. When the apocalypse is stopped, he also introduces art therapy to his siblings. It’s just soft tbh (one, two)

out of time au - Five doesn’t jump to eight days before the apocalypse, he jumps to the day of. He has to figure things out and figure them FAST. As such, he’s much more open to delegation and includes Vanya in this because lord knows he’s aware she’s more sensible than half his siblings. And if Vanya and Leonard argue when she wants to look after her brother that she only just got back well, if the apocalypse was prevented by this rift then it’s probably for the best (one)

how i met your mother au - The Hargreeves jump back in time, but way back to before they were even born. They find their birth mothers, and get to learn exactly who they were, and it’s a little alarming to find out that they’re all people. The kids built them up in their heads as the monsters who gave them up, but they’re just people with hopes and dreams and fears, capable of mistakes and who had to make a choice on the worst day of their lives. (one)

responsible luther au - Five only spends a year in the apocalypse before jumping back and is relieved to find he has four years to stop the apocalypse. Except, Reginald decides that Five isn’t getting out of his hands again and restrains him. The last child left in the house, Luther, has a choice to make. And he makes it. He chooses Five, and absconds with him from the house. Luther tries to help a deeply traumatized Five recover, while also dealing with his reunited family and Reginald teaming up with the Commission to kidnap Five back. To be honest he should have only expected a mess when all the Hargreeves come together (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve)

in the trenches au - Just because Vanya is ‘powerless’ doesn’t mean useless. After all, Klaus doesn’t exactly have a combat based power. So Vanya was included, she was part of the Umbrella Academy, she went on the missions and killed and got hurt and risked her life alongside everyone else. Which means that she isn’t dismissed, she isn’t excluded. She’s as much a part of this as they all are, and that changes everything (one)

post apocalypse au - Just things I think the Hagreeves should get up to in a world where they have to deal with the fact that the world isn’t going to end and they actually have to inhabit it. They decide to try and live instead of whatever they’ve been doing for twenty-nine years, figuring out what they like and don’t like as they go where they were never really allowed to before (one)

late addition au - on one fateful day, forty-three women gave birth despite not beginning the day pregnant. Forty-three women produced forty-four children, and that one extra wasn’t exactly supposed to be there. Indeed, unhappy with the apocalypse plans, the Universe slipped her own child next to another as an almost sleeper agent of sorts. Five grew up with his mother’s voice in his ear, the knowledge that he wasn’t like the others, and a mission to take out the true cause of the apocalypse: the Commission. (one, two)

double trouble au - They stop the apocalypse, but that’s not the end of it because a few days after it all ends Five shows up. Except Five is already there. This is a younger Five who time traveled, except there’s no apocalypse to meet him now. Baby Five manages to convince his elder counterpart to see how long it takes the rest of the siblings to cotton onto the fact that there are two of them, and it’s downright alarming how long it actually takes (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight)

pride and prejudice au - The Hargreeves have returned to Netherfield to figure out the estate after their father’s death. Airheaded Klaus falls head over heels for local soldier Dave Katz, much to the chagrin of over-protective and pig-headed brother Diego. Fortunately, Dave has the fearsome and wonderful Eudora Patch at his side as his best friend. And his little sister, Dolores, is best friends with Five Hargreeves? And for reasons unknown, the Handler is back and sniffing around. (one, two, three, four, five, six)

poster child au - Klaus is a little bit more accurate with that fire extinguisher and Five drops through into the courtyard with a bloody nose and the beginning of a frankly impressive black eye. It’s looking like the poster child for child abuse that Five goes to griddy’s, and Agnes isn’t leaving this abused child alone out front, right? So she witnesses everything and ends up taking Five under her wing and rolling with the whole ‘stop the apocalypse’ train. Along the way she adopts six more children adults, falls in love with an assassin, and saves the world (one)

mechanical boy au - Five and Grace have always been close, in their own way. Away from prying eyes, with careful sentences and unsaid words. Allies in survival against a man who doesn’t care if they live or die. An exploration of a Five who takes more of an interest in his mother, and more in subterfuge. (one, two, three)

ben saves the day au - Instead of Ben dying, it was Klaus. Without his two favorite brothers, Ben drifts away from the family. He leaves when he hits 18 and doesn’t look back. He builds himself a life, gets a job, learns to live. And then of course he’s tossed back into drama central when Reggie kicks the bucket. On the bright side, Ben got one of his favorite brothers back. On the other hand, it appears that Ben got the entire family’s brain cells in the divorce. (one, two, three)

robot five au - Five is just like any of the other Hargreeves, except of course for the fact that he shares more in common with their mother than the other squishier members of the family. It’s a difficult existence, trying to be yourself when even just having free will is too much to ask. But a little trip to the apocalypse and back and Five is done with all this human bullshit and would like very much for people to stop trying to kill his family, thank you. If the others can accept Grace as their mother then on god they will accept Five as their brother. (one, two)

the commission boy au - The Boy was the only success in a series of failures regarding experiments with Number Five’s DNA, or at least the samples left behind after his rather explosive exit. Growing up trained to be the perfect assassin, the Boy eventually discovers the Commission’s dirty laundry. Mainly, the existence of Five. Assuming that Five is another successful experiment and his ‘brother’, the Boy betrays the Commission and embarks on a journey to discover who his family are, and more importantly, who he is. (one, two, three, four, five, six)

hogwarts au - When Five is ten, a woman comes to the house and talks about magic. Reginald tosses her out, but Five follows her and tells her with wide innocent eyes that their father bought them and is planning to expose their ‘powers’ to the world. The magical community can’t have that, and all seven children are bundled up and placed at Hogwarts. They still have their powers, which don’t seem to be linked to their magic in any way, but they’re not about to tell any of the adults that. (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven)

changeling au - When 43 children were born around the world, they became a curiosity that got the attention of a powerful member of the fae, The Handler. Changelings are traditional, so she sent off a minion to swap one of the children with her own - except something goes wrong. The switch isn’t made. One woman assumes she had twins, and gives both of them to Reginald Hargreeves. Five grows up with rules. Lies burn like coal on his tongue, he is bound to his word, and he knows the true power of names. The Handler isn’t willing to let sleeping dogs lie. (one, two, three)

timeboy au - When Five is young, he finds a blue box in an alley that feels like home. He finds a friend, the TARDIS finds family. She finds him again, over and over through the years. Five grows up with the TARDIS’s voice humming in his head, blue glowing on his hands. He asks her to teach him to time travel, and she does. But when he jumps - time screams. It’s wrong. It’s time for a team up between Five and Team TARDIS to fix the timeline, prevent the apocalypse, and learn some important life lessons along the way. (one, two, ao3)

supernatural au - In another world, 43 children appeared out of thin air. In this world, Reginald is a collector. Of what, you might ask? Well just look in his library. Reginald Hargreeves is one of the world’s foremost expects on supernatural and mythical creatures. Why, just look at his children. (one)

pokemon au - Blessed by legendaries, the Umbrella Academy aren’t entirely human. They look human enough, but humans can’t learn pokemon moves. Humans don’t have a type. Reginald wriggles through a loophole, and gets custody of seven legendary children, though of course there are only six on a traditional team. Sorry Vanya. (one)

gym leader au - the Hargreeves are certainly a power family since they were trained from infancy to be the best trainers they can be. Of course, being gym leaders means they’re in the middle of all the weird and wacky shit that happens. Don’t mention the celebi incident that resulted in the dragon gym leader looking like a teenager, for the love of god. (one)

unviable au - Time travel doesn’t work. It needs a conduit. Taking all of time into something as fallible as a human heart... Five gets to the apocalypse, and he doesn’t immediately realize that he can’t touch things any more. He can’t interact with the world. He figures he got stuck in a pocket dimension of some sort, and eventually manages to travel back in time - except the only people who can see him are Klaus and Ben. They tell him that he’s dead, a ghost, but that’s not going to stop him from saving his family and, maybe, the world. (one, two, three)

prophet five au - Five’s time powers are a little different than canon. When he dreams, he sees the future. A possible future. He spends most of his childhood tweaking and prodding at the world to make sure his family is safe, terrified of being discovered. And then he starts dreaming of the apocalypse, of a life he hasn’t lived, and he decides to change the world. But he needs a little help. That’s where Vanya comes in. (one)

delayed au - when forty-three children were born, one mother looked Reginald Hargreeves in the eyes and said, no thank you. She would raise her child herself, thanks. Except her son turns five-years-old, and he’s not safe. He teleports, and he gets lost, and - she turns to the academy in desperation. Five knows about the outside world. Knows that he was loved. Reginald is full of shit, and Five tries his best to save the world. (one)

tog/tua crossover - Five dies in the apocalypse and starts dreaming of other people. Andy has been confused about the immortal child she’s dreamed about on and off for eons. Nile joins the team and with the power of google search, they set off to find the mystery child immortal. Five, on the other hand, would just like to stop the apocalypse and maybe take down the commission thank-you-very-much. (one, two, three)

rebel vanya au - Vanya’s meds suppressed her powers, but her emotions were fine. Vanya grew up loud, grew up sneaking out and acting out because the only attention she could wrench from Reginald was negative attention. With anger in her heart, a friendship with her favorite two brothers based on bashing their father, and girlfriend Helen Cho that was maybe an enemies to lovers orchestra au. When Five pops back up, Vanya isn’t going to let anything get in the way or her and her girlfriend’s concert, so obviously they have to stop the apocalypse. Right? (one)

the red book au - Five finds several things in the apocalypse. He finds an eye, he finds Vanya’s book, and he finds Reginald’s notebook. Five finds out about his sister’s powers when he’s just a teenager, and grows up knowing about them. This... changes some things, when he hops back in time to save everyone. (one, two)

five meets susan au - Susan Pevensie is an old woman now, but that’s okay, because Five is old as well where it matters. They’ve both lived through loss and love and heartache, both know what it’s like to be too old to be so young and too young to be so old. They both know what it’s like to be lost in a world so different from the one they knew before. They both know what it’s like to be left alone. But that’s okay, because Five needed someone who understands him and Susan is the closest thing he’s got. (one, two, three)

oneshots - Just little oneshots, usually within the scope of vague canon or post-stopping the apocalypse times where I write about just family bonding and conversation I would like to see happen in canon. Usually about the siblings bonding and occur on a whim. (one)

#masterlist #my aus #au masterlist #if there's any y'all want me to explore more #all u gotta do is ask #i also have a whole lot of au asks sitting in my inbox as well for me to eventually respond to #but i wanted to finish this up first #the umbrella academy #tua #tua aus #master list

623 notes · View notes

mymanskabu · 4 years

Text

Kabu One-Shot:

A Kiss in Ten Seconds

Anonie requested: ❝Idk if I can req anything for the holidays or if it's too late but, just in case. Can you do something for Kabu finding out his champion!s/o will be too busy on New Years Eve and New Years Day bc of all the events that are going on? Then how would he react, when people are literally doing the 10 second count down right before midnight and he sees his s/o burst into the room/wherever he is, panting, out of breath, looking for him just so they could be there to kiss him when the countdown's over?❞

× IM UPLOADING THIS AT 11:59PM Or at least that's the time it is for me as I post this! I know its 2020 already for many of you! I wish you guys a good New Years!

× sorry some of y'alls requests will have taken a year to get done. Please don't unfollow, I am a hard-working person with one brain cell.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

No one told you just how tedious and time consuming being a Champion would be. No wonder the former one appears much less stressed, the poor guy barely had time for his family on this schedule. You were constantly on the move and everyone wanted to talk to you. Leon came around to check on you after you had sent him a text saying, "Help, why are they coming for my life, I have a shit to do."

"Your schedule is very full," He said, looking at you apologetically. "There should be a warning before people try to become Champion, this is a workload that would surely scare off a lot of trainers."

"I don't even have time for my hobbies!" You flip the page to your schedule and half of next month was already full. "I'm lucky enough to manage a call to my mom and one of the only times I see Kabu is when I am going home in the middle of the night." You were surprised the man hasn't decided to leave you. You would completely understand if he couldn't handle being with someone so busy.

"I was undefeated for a very long time," Leon starts explaining. "Your schedule is much fuller than mine was because you beat someone that no one else could for many years. Even those older than me and with perhaps more experience couldn't defeat me."

"You're telling me your schedule wasn't this hectic?" You stared down at the calendar, realizing that talking to Leon was going to get cut short anytime soon.

"It was hectic definitely. Not like this." Leon gave you a comforting pat on your shoulder. "The workload will lessen later on, not sure by how much but you can only repeat a story for so long before people get bored. Then you have to worry about people trying to force a story to happen. At least you have off time when the Gym Challenge is not at large."

"I'm going to lose to the next challenger on purpose," You said. It got a chuckle out of Leon who raised a brow at you, questioning the honesty of your statement. "Or not." You sighed. "Too many benefits outweighing the negatives right now. Well, I'm happy you're able to have more time for other projects Leon!"

"Thank you... Champion."

You were getting many challengers nowadays. People who couldn't defeat Leon come back thinking they can defeat you, plenty of Challengers coming for your title, and new ones in the making. You had a lot of paperwork as well, surprisingly enough. A lot of interviews, so many damn interviews, and your privacy? Almost completely gone. You were grateful for having been with Kabu since before you even challenged the Gyms to attempt being Champion.

Unfortunately your relationship with him was outed rather quickly because of that though. Even if it was a secret, the ring on a specific finger would have also given you away. That was quite recent, it was his surprise for when you became Champion so now wedding planning is somewhere quite far in the schedule. Your management didn't consider it as important as you did, it's something you had to force into your schedule. They only care about managing your public image, personal problems don't rank high on their list of priorities when they're organizing your calendar.

Champions also have to be very involved with Galar and it's people. You had to understand the public opinion, the government opinion, and manage almost any incoming threat. That was terrifying, they sent you to anything just because you happen to be strongest around right now. You had to suck it up and protect the people, show them that their Champion can do probably anything.

You read over your schedule with Leon for a bit longer until you saw something in it that was irritating. "Leon. Why in the world do I have interviews for both New Years Eve and New Years. They can't take those days! I wanted to... I need to be..." You were fuming. You told them not to fill the holidays and they didn't for the past ones, but for some reason they filled those two dates.

"There isn't much you can do about that," He says. "You can try but I remember trying and they... if its urgent, its unlikely." Leon continued with saying that they probably gave you the prior holidays so that you didn't have room to completely complain about your management.

Your phone started ringing. You hesitated to pick up the phone knowing that it'll be someone to take you away for another interview, photoshoot, or fan meet. You didn't hate the people that wanted to meet you, your anger was mostly directed towards the people that were stuffing so much into your schedule. Leon was right though, they can't keep this up forever and hopefully later on it will get more tolerable.

"Are you alright?" His familiar voice caused your shoulders to ease up. You were crossing your arms on the table with your head laid on them. You had came home tired of socializing and still having to do some paperwork having to do with former Chairman Rose.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm tired though, mentally tired to tell you the truth." You stretched your arms upwards then felt two arms wrap around your shoulders when you put them down. "Kabu, I can't be with you during New Years Eve or New Years. It says its urgent but I very much doubt these Talk Shows need me that badly."

You didn't hear anything from behind you for a long moment. He was most likely thinking, you were too, and depending on what he says, you might just consider the idea of letting him go. It hurt you to ponder upon such a thing, but there's other people out there that could give Kabu much more of their time.

"I understand," He finally said, "I'll open up the Stadium for those that need a warm place to be on those days and I will be thinking of you when the countdown starts."

"You don't have to be like that, you know? You don't have to understand, you can be mad at me, you can be frustrated at me, I won't... I won't blame you!" You got up from where you were sitting to face him. He held your hands and promptly shook his head in response.

"I'm not sure you knew this, love but you do not plan your schedule." He kisses your knuckles to comfort you. "If I am to be frustrated at anyone it will be whoever made you busy on those two days. Was there anything you could do about it?"

"I tried, but they just repeatedly tell me that it's an urgent thing I need to be at," You reply, a frustrated sigh escaping past your lips.

"You do what you have to, and think of me as I will think of you during the countdown." With a hand gently on the back of your neck he guides your mouth to his in a much needed relaxing kiss that made your body melt.

"Of course, you're right... you're right," You mumbled. Your eyes remained closed for a bit after the kiss before you were able to open them without feeling like they held sadness in them. "I love you, you know that?"

"I love you too."

Your stylist dressed you up nicely for the interviews, these events to celebrate a new Champion and a New Year. This is wrong, why does it feel like you were just rubbing it in everyone's face that you were now Champion? You were backstage waiting to be introduced, slouching in a nearby couch with your elbow on your thigh and your hand holding your chin. Finally you heard your name, you could see the crowd cheering on the screen, all anticipating your presence through the hall that all guests walk through.

Kabu opened the Stadium as he said he would, a lot more people came than he thought would. He had announced that it would be open to celebrate the New Year and there would be food and drinks. It wasn't going to be like that at first but you offered the funds and he couldn't say no. It was open for people and Pokemon alike and that brought his heart a pleasant feeling.

He missed you a lot though. He understood that you had things to do but he didn't realize just how attached he had grown to you for your lacking presence to impact him so much. His Stadium was playing the interview for everyone to see and the people that came; majority of them knew Kabu was engaged to the new Champion of Galar. He wondered if you were going to complete your end of the promise and think of him.

"Here's our new magnificent Champion, (Name)!" The cheers were loud, the "I love you's" came from all directions, and so did flowers. Roses, vibrant red roses that reminded you of Kabu. You sat down, a big smile on your face that only managed to be genuine knowing Kabu would see it. "How are you on this beautiful night, Champ?" The interviewer asked.

"I'm doing great, thank you! I actually have somethin' to say real quick, is that alright?" The interviewer furrowed his brows and pointed towards the camera you should speak to.

"Let's hear what (Name) needs to say folks! I wonder what it is! Sounds mysterious!"

"Perhaps it would be mysterious if paparazzi didn't exist," You responded. "I want to say I'm thinking about you, I'll see you soon!"

"Would my guess be wrong if I say that message was for your to-be husband and Fire Type Gym Leader Kabu!?" The interviewer raises your hand, the one that had the ring. "How is the wedding planning going anyway? Any progress?"

"Its somewhere in my schedule, we have ideas we hope to bring to life." The answer was simple and clearly not to the interviewers' taste. They had to remain unaffected though and continued smiling.

"We have a few fan questions we would like you to answer! First one being, would you date a fan?!"

"Absolutely not. I'm engaged, are you people not getting the memo?" You said this sarcastically, but with a tone of seriousness. It got you a laugh from the audience and you laughed along with them as truthfully as you could. "Not to be inappropriate or anything but I think— no. I know I'll be with Kabu for the rest of my life."

Kabu was almost as red as Gym outfit shirt, hearing the "Aww" from both the crowd in the Stadium and the ones where you were. In all honesty though, he would have said the exact same thing about you.

"A curious fan has asked: Do you sing in the shower?" You didn't think for long and answered it with a brief nod.

"I do sing in the shower, Kabu says it sounds good but I think he may just be losing hearing." Once again, the crowd laughed. "Who knows though, only he has ever heard me sing and no, I'm not singing!"

"You and Kabu live together as you've implied multiple times, has there been any mishaps in the kitchen by one of you?" You pondered on this question for a few seconds.

"Not yet, Kabu is a pretty good cook and surprisingly good baker!" You tried to think of an incident once again but nothing came to mind as of now.

"Have you used the 'Is your Dad a baker' pick up line on him yet?" You chuckled at the question and so did the crowd. You covered half your face as you nodded, confirming that you have used a pick up line on him. "I didn't expect that! How'd that go?"

"He still has no idea what I meant by the line and I suppose now is a good time to get it out in the open." It took you a moment or two to compose yourself. "When I said you had a nice set of buns, I was talking about your butt, Kabu!"

He was sitting in the middle of his Stadium, on the ground and when you said that, he fell back laughing much more than he usually would allow himself to in front of a crowd. He should have known that's what you meant then, all he wished to say in response was that he felt the same way. He knows you would have playfully hit him on the arm or something and thank him for the compliment.

A few more questions passed until it was getting close to the countdown. There was an ad break a few minutes before it started. You didn't want to be here, your heart was telling you to leave, take a flying taxi, find Kabu, find home, and be where you know you want to be. You slowly got up from the waiting area, ignoring the calling security, interviewer, and anyone else you just left.

Ten.

You ran, forgetting you had a flying taxi even though you thought about it moments ago. You only had one thing on your mind and that was reaching Kabu before the countdown was over. You ran, your legs wanting to stop but you wouldn't allow it, your lungs trying to take in all the cold air, and the fancy shoes on your feet making it even more difficult. You stopped and took them off, hastily picking them up then running again. No rock on the ground was stopping you from being where you wanted to be tonight.

Nine.

When the show came back on, you weren't there and he was confused. Apparently you had left abruptly, this caused him to worry and tried getting a hold of you through a text then called you.

Eight.

Kabu didn't know you ran off, leaving your items behind with only one goal in mind. His destination was within your line of sight and it made you push forward much faster, pushing your legs harder to make it before the time ran out.

Seven.

He wanted to be able to at least to see you through the screen as the countdown started. Where did you go? Why did you leave? Were you even okay? Now all he could think about was your well-being.

Six.

You were jogging past the hair salon, the many small stores on the sides, some which had people. People watching the Champion run to the elevator that would take you to Motostoke Stadium.

Five.

No one asked questions as you walked in, your legs almost wanting to give in. You continued, waving off others that wanted to help you walk towards the doors to the Stadium itself.

Four.

You stood in the tunnel for a couple of seconds, your eyes searching for Kabu. He who was watching the screen, hoping for your appearance or any news on your location.

Three.

The crowd spotted you first, the loud cheers startling Kabu as his eyes met yours when he turned his head in your direction. He never felt more relieved to see you there, why you had disappeared made much more sense to a lot people now that you were here.

Two.

With all the strength you could muster in your legs, you practically limped forward. Absolutely tired by the run and feeling like a whole idiot for not using a taxi when you could have at any point on your way here. He saw you panting, no shoes on your feet, you looked like quite the beautiful mess.

One.

No words are exchanged as you throw your arms around his neck, holding him in a tight embrace before your lips passionately meet his. He was slightly taken aback by the roughness of the kiss, you had his body right against yours, and a hand clutching the hair on the back his head. How long had it been since he has had something like this? He had forgotten how amazing this physical contact could feel and experiencing this made him feel as if it was a first kiss. Then the clock strikes twelve, your hold on him loosens, and its just you and him.

Your forehead was on his, you two were sharing breaths because of how long and sudden it was. Embarrassment hit you randomly when you realized there was a crowd, you left an interview, and Kabu was probably staring at you while you didn't dare open your eyes. Not until you could look at him and say something that didn't sound like you didn't know how to form sentences.

You could hear the crowd now, the whistling, the clapping, the stomping of their feet, any form of cheering the could make they did it.

"Another year of you and me," He said. "I am looking forward to another one." He gave you one chaste kiss for his own pleasure and you smiled.

"I look forward to another one too."

#request #happy new year #!!#kabu swsh #swsh kabu #pokemon kabu #kabu #kabu is all i need lmao #kabu pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon shield #pokemon sword #pokemon #sword and shield #swsh #pokemon swsh #drabble #oneshot

51 notes · View notes

shybirdpatrol · 3 years

Text

Pimp My Wii Download

Pimp My Wii Download 4.3u

Pimp My Wii Latest Version Download

Posted by admin

Here is usually 'Pimp My Wii', an homebrew thát will Hack your Wii, install lacking or outdated IOS / game titles, set up the cIOS and mIOS essential.The system will detect missing or outdated IOS and verify that you have the most recent version of the Wii System Menus. It furthermore bank checks if you possess the latest variations of BC, MI0S and those stations: Wii Shop, News, Weather, Mii, Image and Photograph 1.1If you don't have got the latest versions of those titles, the system will download them, or examine them fróm USB ór SD to set up them. When using this plan, you will have all benefits from 4.1 cumulated from those of 3.2, and this without drawbacks!It also set up cIOS d2x (centered on Waninkoko) (249, 250) v10 and 10 alt and cIOS from Hermes 202/222/223/224 rev5.1. You can if you wish install the cIOS frómWaninkoko rev20/21 or d2x sixth is v6, 7, 8 or 9beta (you'll have got to set up it personally from the menu 'Install cIOS').Pimp install the cMIOS fróm WiiGator.Pimp wiIl avoid you if some homebrews aren't updated. Pimp check the version of the using homebrew (the dirnames must go with, and are usually not situation sensible):.- Neogamma, in edition Ur9 beta 50 minimum amount. Dirname: néogamma.- Usb Loadér gx, in edition 2.2 least.

Pimp My Wii is an application that can modify your Nintendo Wii internally (iOS / cIOS) to ensure the operation of both Nintendo Wii and GameCube backup games, as well as numerous applications, emulators and video games, in addition to installing WADs (channels or games in the internal memory of the console). Aug 10, 2010 I'm not familiar with Pimp my Wii and how it works, though it sounds like a great program. I'm currently on 4.1E, can Pimp my Wii update me to 4.2 (or 4.3) and automatically do the trucha patching and whatever else needs to be done? (Ie: all I need to do is install HBC 1.07, Waninkoko's rev 20 and a USB loader)? This is a video tutorial on how to install wads (classic Wii game files) downloaded from the internet, to your Nintendo Wii. How to Install Wads on Wii with Pimp My Wii on Windows (Games on. Jan 5, 2010 - If you don't have the latest versions of those titles, Pimp My Wii will download install them for you. After using this program, you will have all.

Pimp My Wii; Pimp My Wii V.4.0; USB Loader GX download; WAD Manager 1.9 Download; WiiFlow 4.2.1 Download; Wii Homebrew Homebrew apps and software to help customise. Pimp My Wii is outdated. Follow this guide: Its a little more work than using an automated solution like Pimp My Wii, but wouldn't you rather it be done correctly? The guide is is easy to follow.

Pimp My Wii Download 4.3

Dirname: usbloadergx.- Uloader, in edition 5.1 minimum. Dirname: uloader.- Wiiflow, in edition 2.2 (or l302) minimum. Dirname: wiiflow.- ConfigurabIe usb Ioader, in version 70 minimum amount. Dirname: usbloader or usbloadercfgPimp does not update those homebrews itself. No verification will be produced on stations, only on the data files installed on the SD cards in the index /apps/.The homebrew is usually displayed instantly in everyday terms, norwegian, italian, a language like german or spanish language depending of your Wii'h language. It will be also suitable with NTSC-U, NTSC-J ánd PAL Wii units. (Korean Wii theoricaly compatible).Caution: I do not take any responsibility for any harm in yóur wii because óf a improper use of this software program.Menu:- Move the check and repair problemsCheck if everything is definitely fine on the Wii, and install what need to become set up, after inquiring user.- Move the testOnly check out if everything is definitely good on the Wii, without installing anything.- Manual installationWill propose to set up every IOS and game titles possible.

By default, the set up will be on 'no'.- Hack les Wii/Minimal installationPass the test and just install the minimal necessity to hack your Wii. It plot IOS 36.Also install the cIOSes 249, 250, 202, 222, 223, 224 from g2x and Hermes and the cMIOS.- Install cIOSInstall a cIOS of your choice between cIOS fróm Hermes, Waninkoko ánd Waninkoko d2x. You can select the IOS resource of your selection, the location slot and the modification.For Waninkoko's/d2x cI0S, you can select this IOS source: IOS36 v3607 IOS37 sixth is v5662 IOS38 v4123 IOS53 v5662 IOS55 sixth is v5662 IOS56 v5661 IOS57 v5918 IOS58 v6175 IOS60 v6174 IOS61 v5661 IOS70 sixth is v6687 IOS80 v6943 (IOS 58 just for modification above 20).For Hermes cIOS, you have the choice between IOS60 sixth is v6174, IOS38 sixth is v3867, IOS37 sixth is v3869 and IOS57 v5661.Button 'minus', 'safe setting'. In this mode, the IOS check is impaired, you will become asked rather to choose an IOS to make use of for the set up. You must understand that in this mode, you will not understand if your set up IOS possess the differents pests, and after that the plan will not understand if they require to be patched.Take note: Pimp my Wii is certainly compatible with thé WiiU Wii emuIator, but some options are impaired.

The nine channels proven below are usually the initial first 9 available. These 9 forwarder channels (minus the NihonFlow forwarder) are incorporated in forwarder group 1 below. Make certain to select Wii fór Wii ór vWii fór vWii. Each group includes a wad file for each of the 8 stations. Make use of a wad manager to set up the one you would like.

WiiFlow forwarders make use of the title ID 'DWFA' and use Fix94's v14b dol within. All forwarders make use of IOS58 and disable AHBProt. Images and animations credit will go to the authentic writers Spayrosam, Mastérshoes,JJ-Kwik, Jiiwáh and Benjay. lf we have not really creditedyou, our apoIogies as we don't understand who all the authentic creators are.

Aux (Auction house addon for vanilla wow). Atlas Loot (Loot addon, shows potential drops from bosses in instances). Bagnon (Bag sorting and filtering addon). Bigwigs (Addon like DMB for vanilla). Questie (Very helpful addon for help with quests in Vanilla WoW). Enemy Cast Bar (Shows enemy. Best vanilla quest addon.

Pimp My Wii Download 4.3u

WIIU Customers - These forwarders earned't install/operate correctly on vWii. Adhere to these methods to convert them for vWii. Make use of byFix94. It picks up if you are usually using Wii ór vWii and instaIls the properforwarder ánd concealed channel required for apps ánd plugins to come back to WiiFlow. Downloadthe forwarder of your selection beneath and after that stick to the manual by Repair94 toconvert it to become workable on vWii and set up it via a wad manager. Right here's the tutorial -.Click the image below to downIoad the forwarder óf your selection. Theyare in wad format and will require to be set up with Wad Manager 1.7 orMMM.Notice: For Wii users only - You will need IOS 58 installed to use thesev14b forwarders.

System menu 4.3 should currently possess it. If you needit make use of to download and set up IOS 58. Or you can use provided your Wii offers WiFi. Wii U customers do not really try to set up IOS 58.

. Go to the. Béfore downloading, you require to choose your OS edition (viewable in the Wii'beds settings menus). You also need to type your Wii'h Mac Tackle. To find this, click on on Wii Options. Move to Wii Configurations.

Proceed to page 2 of the configurations, then click on on Internet. Click on on Console Details. Enter the Mac Address displayed there in the appropriate area of the website page. By default, the choice to Package deal the HackMii lnstaller for me!

Leave it that way. The web page has a recaptcha security system. After filling in the phrases, you have got a option between clicking Cut the reddish wire or Cut the blue wire.

As far as we can tell it doesn't make any difference which one you click on. Either will download the file. Unzip the file to your SD credit card. Turn on your Wii. As soon as the primary menu will be up, click on on the envelope in the circle on the lower ideal of the display. This takes you to your Wii Message Board.

Today you require to discover a specific message pointed out by a crimson envelope filled with a toon bomb (notice screenshot). This will most likely become in last night's email, so click the glowing blue arrow to the left to proceed to the previous day. According to the guidelines, it could also switch up in today or two times ago.

As soon as you find the cover, click on on it. lf your Wii is definitely off, convert it on.

From the major Wii menus, click on the little round circle in the Iower left-hand corner that says ' Wii.' . Click on Data Management. Then click on on Channels. Click on the SD Credit card tab in the top right part of the screen. There can be a little door next to the game disk slot on the Wii, open up it and you will see a slot for a SD cards. Put in the SD card into it so that the best of the card is definitely towards the game disk slot.

If it just will go partway in, you're also placing it backward or upside down. A conversation package will take up inquiring if you need to insert boot.dol/elf. A display will arrive up telling you whether the homebrew items you wish to set up can be installed. This information assumes they can end up being.

(If you have an older Wii and are using the Letterbomb technique then you may become given a choice between setting up BootMii as boot2 or IOS. The Readme file integrated with Letterbomb points out the advantages and downsides, but newer gaming systems will only permit the IOS method.). Select Continue and press A new. You will see a menus that will enable you to install The Homebrew Sales channel. It will also allow you select to run Bootmii, the instaIler, which you wiIl most likely never require to perform.

Pimp My Wii Latest Version Download

If you are making use of the Bannerbomb method you will possess a DVDx option as well.

Temple Of Elemental Evil Wiki ▶

Pimp My Wii Download

1 note · View note

set-phasers-to-whump · 4 years

Text

we are, we are, we’re gonna be alright

fandom: grimm

whumpee: nick burkhardt

hi this is a completely self-indulgent fic which i wrote for Me but like if you wanna read it go right ahead!! it’s some nick/hank bc. where the Fuck is the content for that. but it’s mostly in the second chapter while the first is more whump focused. anyway i hope u like this!! (title from afterlife by ingrid michaelson)

Chapter 1

Nick and Hank sprint through the halls of an abandoned apartment building, chasing down their suspect. He shoves over a piece of metal shelving, kicks an old ratty couch cushion at them, skids around corners, and jumps over junk with the practiced ease of someone who’s been living here for a while.

Nick leaps over the shelving, and Hank slides under it. They both step out of the way of the cushion, doing their best to keep up with the suspect, who, unfortunately, has the advantage at the moment.

They reach the opening of a perpendicular hallway. The suspect rushes down it, and Nick and Hank split up, Hank turning after him and Nick continuing straight on, in the hopes of trapping him between the two of them.

Nick races along, grateful for the lack of obstacles being pushed in his way. He sidesteps a cinder block - and his leg drops straight through the floor with a cracking sound. He collapses for a second, collects his bearings, then pulls his leg back out of the floor, feeling it twinge slightly as it scrapes the rough edges of broken wood. He pays it no mind, and gets back to his feet quickly, taking off running again.

Sure enough, he spots their suspect at the end of the hall, hurrying off to the left. He doesn’t see Hank following close behind, though, so he speeds up even more, feeling like his feet barely even touch the ground.

He catches their suspect in a matter of seconds, tackling him to the ground (there was that strange sensation in his leg again). They scuffle for a minute, but Nick quickly gains the upper hand. He’s about to cuff the man when Hank comes running up, breathless.

“Nice catch,” he says, as Nick clicks the cuffs on. “Bastard threw a metal chair at me.”

Nick nods, then stands, pulling the suspect to his feet. He has to pause a second as his leg starts to hurt - that’s the adrenaline starting to wear off, he knows. He ignores it as best as he can, hoping it’s not hurt too bad. The two start walking back down the hallway, Hank pushing the suspect along, Nick lagging a little behind.

“You okay?” Hank asks. Nick knows he’s limping, and he can feel now that something is definitely wrong. Nevertheless, he says, “I’m fine,” and wonders if Hank believes him at all.

They’re not more than halfway out of the building when Nick’s leg gives out from under him, and he collapses to the ground.

“Nick!” Hank fairly shouts, stopping in his tracks. “Nick, what’s wrong?”

Nick grimaces, just barely biting back a groan of pain. “Think...I might’ve hurt my leg,” he confesses, taking a steadying breath that trembles on the exhale.

“How bad?”

Nick shrugs, not wanting to say quite possibly broken. “Not too bad.” He shuts his eyes against a wave of pain. “Don’t know if I can walk all the way out of here, though.”

Hank thinks for a moment. There’s no service in this building, and Nick is insisting he’s not hurt that bad. While Hank doesn’t believe that line for a second, he also knows there’s little point in arguing. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he decides. “I’ll go put Mr. Downey here in the car, you wait right here.”

True to his word, Hank is back in slightly over sixty seconds. Nick knows because he’d counted. Anything to distract him from just how bad his leg is hurting. Broken, he thinks. Great.

Hank gives him a hand up, pulling Nick’s arm over his shoulders and starting off at a very slow walk.

Nick sucks in a deep breath as his hurt leg touches lightly against the ground. Hank notices, but Nick doesn’t tell him to go slower, or stop, or do anything as reasonable as pick him up and relieve the pressure on his leg, so, naturally, Hank takes matters (and Nick) into his own hands, picking him up as carefully and gently as he can, trying not to touch his hurt leg and make it worse while also supporting it enough so that it doesn’t move around too much.

It’s a testament to how much Nick must be hurting that he doesn’t even protest beyond a quiet, “hey-” which is cut off by a sigh of relief when his injured leg is relieved of its duties.

Hank walks as evenly as he possibly can out to the car, and deposits Nick into his spot in the passenger seat. He apologizes to the suspect for the delay, not really meaning it since it was chasing him that got Nick into this situation in the first place.

That done, he asks Nick if he wants him to call an ambulance as soon as they get back to service. Nick, predictably, shakes his head no.

“Just get us back to the station first. Drop Downey off, and then maybe we can drive there.”

Hank doesn’t argue, just glad he won’t have to force Nick to the hospital against his will.

The ride back to the police station is dead quiet. Hank hates the silence, but doesn’t dare break it. When they arrive, he wordlessly removes Downey from the backseat and maneuvers him towards the front doors.

Meanwhile, Nick leans his head against the cool glass of the window. Thus far, he’s done a pretty good job of sucking it up. He’s scarcely made a sound. But his leg hurts. He’s sure it’s not the worst pain he’s experienced, overall, but at the moment, semantics like that do absolutely nothing. It hurts now, and it hurts a lot, as though it’s on fire, a feeling only reinforced by the hot tears that have begun to run down his face. He takes a shuddering breath, fogging up the glass, and hopes that Hank will be back soon.

Hank throws open his door about five minutes later, having passed Downey off to Wu practically as soon as he’d seen the man. He owes him a box of donuts and a week’s worth of paperwork, but honestly, he’d have agreed to just about anything if it would have gotten him out of there and back to Nick.

Who looks absolutely miserable. He’s crying, on its own a rare sight, and seems barely aware of that fact. Some of the color has drained from his face, and, now that Hank really looks, his leg is definitely broken. He has a pretty good idea of what that feels like, and he’s amazed (but not entirely surprised) that Nick is keeping it together this well.

It can’t hurt to ask one more time, he reasons, and once again poses the ambulance question. They are sitting right outside a police station, after all. Nick only shakes his head, and he looks so pained and so sad that Hank doesn’t even care. He thinks he’d probably drive to Canada right now, if that was what Nick wanted.

—

Hank parks as close as he can to the Emergency entrance of the hospital. “We’re gonna have to walk,” he warns. “Unless you-”

“I know,” Nick says, and before Hank can stop him, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car.

Hank rushes around to the passenger side just as Nick takes a step. His leg folds up under him, and Hank grabs him, wrapping arms around him and pulling him close to prevent him from collapsing to the ground for the second time today.

Nick’s hands latch onto Hank’s jacket automatically, like he’s trying to hold himself up by that force alone. Hank feels them shaking through the fabric.

“I could run inside and see if they have a wheelchair,” Hank offers. Nick shakes his head, face pressed firmly into Hank’s shoulder.

“We have to get there somehow, man,” Hank points out.

Nick shrugs halfheartedly, not moving. Hank gets the message that he knows Nick is far too...Nick to actually say out loud, and picks him up again, being, if it’s possible, even more careful than before. Nick still makes a terribly fragile pained noise anyway. It’s the first real sound he’s made, and Hank mentally shudders to think how bad the pain must be for Nick to just let it out.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hank says, over and over, walking slowly up to the entrance. “You’re okay, it’ll be fine.” Nick only grabs his jacket tighter in response.

As soon as they get inside, Hank gently deposits Nick on one of the waiting-room chairs. He joins the thankfully-short line of people at the desk, and explains their whole situation as quickly and clearly as he can to the person behind it, who hands him a clipboard of papers to fill out, promising they’ll get Nick in as soon as they can.

Hank sinks down into the chair next to Nick, who is staring intently at the floor, leg held out at an angle like he doesn’t know what to do with it, clearly not having heard a word of that conversation.

“They’ll see you as soon as they can,” he repeats, and he begins to fill out Nick’s paperwork while Nick himself continues staring at the floor. Hank generously pretends not to notice the tears that are once again tracking their way down his face.

—

About fifteen minutes later, Hank is flipping idly through a magazine while Nick is back being examined. He hates not having any idea what’s going on, and the front-desk person had apologized profusely but insisted that Hank wasn’t allowed back with him. He knows, logically, that Nick will be fine, but he can’t stand not knowing for certain.

It’s perhaps half an hour later when a nurse pushes Nick out into the waiting room. She gives Hank a warm smile and hands him a small paper bag, explaining the painkillers it contains. She disappears for a second and comes back with a pair of crutches, which Hank also takes.

“He’s been given a mild sedative,” she explains to Hank, who is looking at Nick, who is looking at absolutely nothing. “He had a displaced fracture, which means that the pieces of bone on either side of the break were misaligned. We performed a minor nonsurgical procedure to realign them, but it can be painful, hence the sedative. It’ll wear off in a few hours, and he’ll probably sleep for most of that.”

Hank thanks her, gives Nick the bag (at least he’s aware enough to grab it), places the crutches across the armrests of the hospital wheelchair, and heads back to the car. It could have been worse, he thinks to himself. At least he didn’t need surgery.

Chapter 2

Hank drives the two of them back to his house, practically without thinking. If Nick minds this, he doesn’t speak up about it. Not that he’s doing much speaking up about anything. In fact, Hank realizes, he’s sleeping, his cheek pressed against the window, breath fogging up the glass. He looks utterly exhausted, and if he were anyone else, Hank might tack on cute, but it’s Nick so he can’t. He just gives him a little smile (which he obviously can’t see) and shakes his head fondly.

By the time he pulls to a stop at his house, Nick has woken up and is, predictably, insisting he’ll be able to make it inside using his brand-new crutches.

It’s not a very far walk, so Hank somewhat reluctantly hands Nick the crutches, watching critically as he attempts to balance. Surprisingly, he manages to make it to the front door, which Hank has already unlocked, seeing as how he’d reached it a full minute before Nick and his crutches.

Hank ushers Nick inside, directing him to his bedroom and not giving him a chance to protest. Nick, thankfully, is out of it enough to not question Hank’s decision, and he promptly flops himself down on the bed.

And then nearly falls off when the weight of his cast, hanging off the bed, pulls him down. Hank pushes him back onto the bed and heads to the closet to grab another blanket.

He’s gone for scarcely twenty seconds, but when he returns, Nick is already asleep again, head turned so his face is pressed into the pillow. Hank gently drapes the blanket over him, smoothing it out and tucking it in slightly in a way he never would if he thought there was any chance of Nick waking up and asking him what the hell he was doing.

Two hours later, Hank is stretched out on the couch, watching a wildlife documentary and eating a slice of his favorite pizza (he’s earned it, he thinks). He’s wondering whether he should go check on Nick again when a quiet noise from his bedroom makes up his mind for him.

Hank stands in the doorway of his bedroom, watching as Nick slowly wakes up, looking around in confusion and mild alarm when he doesn’t immediately recognize where he is.

“How you feeling?” Hank asks from his position in the doorway.

Nick blinks at him a few times, processing, before he asks, “why’m I here?”

Hank shrugs. “You broke your leg,” he offers.

“Oh. Yeah,” Nick agrees. He reaches down a hand to touch his leg. “I don’t remember getting this,” he says, as his fingers brush against plaster.

“You were pretty out of it already, and they gave you a sedative.”

“Why?”

Hank tells him. Nick winces. “Glad I don’t remember it,” he decides. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost seven-thirty,” Hank says. “I didn’t think you’d be hungry, but there’s a couple slices of pizza if you want them.”

Nick shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“You wanna come sit on the couch?”

The moment the question leaves Hank’s mouth, he’s kicking himself. No, he doesn’t want to. His leg is broken, he doesn’t want to move.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Oh. “Okay,” he says, and hands Nick his crutches.

Several minutes later, they’re both on the couch, and another wildlife documentary is playing on the TV. Nick’s broken leg has been stretched carefully out onto the coffee table, and he won’t say that it hurts, but it hurts.

Hank knows, of course, and he wordlessly hands Nick two of the pills that the nurse had given him, along with a glass of water.

Nick stares at him for a moment. What do you expect me to do with these, he seems to say.

“I know it hurts, man. Just take them.”

Nick heaves a sigh, but accepts the offerings. He swallows the pills and makes a face.

“Was that really that bad?” Hank asks teasingly.

Nick shrugs, looking suddenly morose. “No,” he admits, but the tone of his voice tells Hank there’s something else on his mind.

He doesn’t push, though. Just moves a tiny bit closer and shifts his legs up onto the table to join Nick’s.

Nick falls asleep yet again shortly thereafter, his head dropping to the side in a way Hank knows will make his neck ache when he wakes up. He frets for a moment over what to do before deciding fuck it, and carefully rearranging Nick so he is lying across the couch, his leg propped up by a small stack of pillows. He grabs the blanket from the bed, refills the glass of water, and sets out two more pain pills on the table.

He stares at his sleeping best friend for a moment, simultaneously trying to encourage and stop himself. Before he gives it too much thought, he thinks, oh what the hell, and bends down to press a light kiss to Nick’s forehead.

It’s ridiculously soft and gentle and it makes his face heat up the second he pulls away, but he looks down for just a second and swears he sees the faintest of smiles wash over Nick’s features.

It’s gone in a second, but it’s there, and Hank smiles in response, feeling strangely happy despite the day’s events. He collapses into a chair, intent on keeping watch over Nick until the morning.

—

They both wake up the next morning sore and hurting - Hank from falling asleep in his chair, and Nick for obvious reasons. There’s a quiet second where they both just look at each other - clothes wrinkled from sleep, the book Hank had been reading splayed across his lap, a crease on Nick’s face from where it had been pressed into a pillow.

What I wouldn’t give for this to be my every morning, Hank thinks, as Nick pushes himself up on his elbows. His arm slips out from under him, and Hank reaches out instinctively, helping him up.

Nick turns and looks at him, his face unreadable but soft in the early-morning glow that pours through the windows. He smiles, a soft, still sleepy, slightly pained smile, and presses his forehead against Hank’s. “Thanks,” he says, so soft it could hardly even be called a whisper.

“Anything,” Hank tells him, and maybe that’s too much, but he means it, and then Nick is kissing him, soft and quick, a little unsure and tasting of morning breath and absolutely perfect.

Hank pulls away first, blinking in mild surprise. “Thanks,” he says, and then thinks to himself, could you have said anything dumber?

Nick grins, a full-on smile with not a trace of pain in it. “Anything.”

hi yeah this might have been ooc but i don’t care i love them and i wanted to make this Soft so i did and nobody can stop me....anyway if you read this i love you (and also you are now legally obligated to drop me an ask saying if you think i should re-dye my hair to dark brown/black before senior pictures or not)

#grimm #nick burkhardt #broken bones #broken leg #my writing #i say things #anyway like i said this was for Me but what the hell its for you too if you want #anyway theres a grand total of like seven nick/hank fics i can find and. i hate that so here's my first contribution #i dont know why more people dont ship them tbh i love them #like ok i have my suspiscions as to why....#oh also i know at the hospital you just get a perscription and then you have to go get it filled at like walgreens but i forgot #and i didnt really feel like fixing it so too bad #anyway i am serious about the hair thing Please tell me the pictures are wednesday and my hair is all faded now but idk if i should dye it #ok there is no way anybody read to here but whatever im talking still #today in other self indulgent news i bought two things just because i wanted to and i feel so powerful #i cant wait for them to arrive im so excited #anyway im in a good mood tonite so if for some reason youre still here i hope you have such a good day/night or whatever

5 notes · View notes

nadisabug · 5 years

Text

Title: Sick

Fandom: Danganronpa (SDR2) AU: post-simulation Warnings: disorientation and sickness A/N: okay so I've been super stressed with school, and all I can think about is what if Hajime is getting sick right and he tries to hide it because now hes in charge of the class and apart of the Future Foundation and he is really good at hiding it except nagito notices bc hes nagito and watches hajime closely and now its all i can think about here i go

^^^

Hajime felt awful.

He had been feeling really off for days now, but he brushed it aside. He had to, everyone relied on him. The only reason why they were allowed off the island in the first place was because Hajime convinced Makoto and the rest of the Future Foundation to allow them to move back to the mainland because staying on the island where everything happened would just be worse. Makoto knew Hajime was right, staying on the island was the worst thing that could happen to the students, he told Hajime himself that. But, the Future Foundation was nothing if not skeptical. They were not sure if the students were properly rehabilitated, seeing as they got all their memories back, so they still did not trust the so-called Remnants. Consequently, they were a lot of conditions associated with leaving the island and moving into their relatively nice place. All of which rested squarely on Hajime's shoulders.

One of them was the morning report to Makoto.

He had to report how everyone was doing, feeling, saying, and acting. They did have an assigned therapist that was required to meet with them biweekly, who had her own report, but they wanted an update from the supposed leader of the community as well. Hajime took this responsibility very seriously. Honestly, he had nothing else to offer. He couldn't make patrol groups to help keep the streets safe like Kuzuryu, Pekoyama, Owari, and Nidai, he couldn't help create relief packages like Teruteru, Soda, Tsumiki, and Tanaka, and he couldn't go out into the streets and inspire hope like Moida, Nevermind, Koizumi, and Saionji. He couldn't even just cycle through the three, like Komaeda did, lending his luck to all of the causes. He had a knack for finding out where trouble was occurring, adding personalized items to packages just right and relying on his luck to deliver it to the citizen who needed it most, and no matter how unnerving he could be, no one could deny his unwavering charisma and the faith and hope it inspired in the citizens. Hajime could do none of that. All he had were his supervision and regulatory jobs. So he committed himself to completing them to the best of his ability. He collected and documented everyone's reports flawlessly, he kept inventory and sent out refill requests before the other students knew they were running low on anything, and he never missed a morning report.

Until today.

Hajime woke up groggily to the sound of his Comm beeping. His head was pounding, needles pressing into his temples, and he could feel the dull throb as his blood pumped through his exhausted body. The pain flared in rhythm with the beat, waves of pain rolling over his head as the pressure within felt like it was going to burst. He was about to chalk it up to the fact that he had gone to sleep at 4 am the night before when he sucked in a deep breath, stopping halfway when a fit of coughs overtook him, curling into himself and coughing desperately into his elbow. Once the fit subsided, he took another, full deep breath and picked up his Comm device. On it, read the time.

7:37. Fuck.

He answered it quickly, then threw the covers off of himself, launching to his feet. As he did so, a wave of nausea rolled over him, his vision going completely white. He stumbled forward and caught himself on the dresser, slamming the edge of his elbow on the corner in the process. He bit down on his tongue to keep the contents of his stomach down. Hard. He tasted the the sour blood as it coated his tongue and filled his mouth, but he did not let up.

"You're late," a cold voice announced from the Comm's speaker. With how hard Hajime was gripping the thing, he was surprised it was still working.

Fucking hell. The one day he was late of course Kirirgiri had to be there. He swallowed the blood and the pain radiating from his head, and now his funny bone, with a grimace. "My apologies Kirigiri-san. It was not my intention to-"

"I have neither the time nor the patience for your excuses, boy. Get to your device, now."

The line went dead, much like how Hajime felt and knew he was. Kirigiri pointedly refused to use his name. She was livid.

And she had every right to be, Hajime thought as he desperately pulled on the first pair of trousers he saw. He was an entire 37 minutes late. He started buttoning his shirt frantically, but found that he could not get his hands to stop shaking enough to do so. Hajime cursed and tossed the shirt to the side, instead opting to wear his undershirt to the meeting, and not his usual formal wear. He ran into the bathroom to smooth his hair when it hit him.

His stomach convulsed and the next thing he knew he was heaving into the toilet, a white knuckle grip on the toilet bowl. He skipped dinner last night because he hadn't been feeling well, so the only thing that came up was bile, burning his throat and stinging his nose. All he could think about was getting whatever was in him out as fast as possible so that he could get to the meeting.

Once the heaving subsided, he rushed to the sink and rinsed his mouth quickly, wiping the snot and vomit onto his hand towel. He rushed out of the bathroom, not bothering to flush or brush his teeth. When he finally threw himself into the conference room, he found that the screen on the computer was already depicting a grainy image of Makoto, Kirigiri standing over his shoulder. He threw himself into his usual seat at the head of the table and in front of the monitor, straightening up and trying to appear as composed as possible.

Both Makoto and Kirigiri did not appear pleased.

"You took your time," Kirigiri announced the obvious for the second time, her voice dangerously sharp.

Hajime's eye darted to the time and found that it was now 7:53. He had spent nearly ten minutes emptying his stomach into his toilet bowl. /Fuck.

"And did not even bother to get dressed. Did you fall back asleep?"

Hajime knew it wasn't a question, but felt compelled to defend himself. He opened his mouth to respond, but Makoto waved his hand and spoke before he could.

"It does not matter. You are here now. Give your report, I am already late for another meeting and really do not have anymore time to waste." Makoto's voice was unusually cold and strung tight. Hajime had made him very late for a meeting. Hajime couldn't tell if his gut was clenching from the nausea or the guilt, but it didn't matter.

He quickly launched into his report, desperately hoping he wouldn't vomit all over the desktop.

Once the meeting was over, and he had been given another reprimand, he slowly picked himself up out of the chair and stumbled to the door. His next meeting wasn't until noon with the Patrol unit, so he had time to return to his room and clean himself up. He knew he should probably got to breakfast, but the idea of food made his stomach clench and he decided against it. He swung open the door, leaning heavily on the handle, when he realized someone was outside of it. Before he could register who it was, he straightened up and wiped the grimace off of his face. He couldn't let anyone know.

Komaeda pushed off the hallway wall he was leaning on and froze when he saw Hajime. "Oh shit, you look awful," he blurted.

"Thanks," Hajime grunted, rolling his eyes, and started down the hallway to his room. He heard Komaeda scramble to catch up behind him and within a moment he was walking backward in front of Hajime.

"I mean, you just look so sick, you don't look bad Hinata-kun, you never do- I mean well, I just meant that-"

Hajime felt another wave of nausea tear through him and he was forced to stop walking. He folded his arms over his chest to play off needing to put pressure on his stomach and attempted to mask his grimace as a scowl of annoyance at Komaeda.

Komaeda immediately snapped his mouth closed and stopped walking. "Sorry," he apologized quickly. "I just-"

"Why are you here?" Hajime grunted. He didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as he did, and couldn't help but feel bad when Komaeda flinched at his tone.

"Sorry... you just skipped dinner last night... and then you weren't at breakfast... so I was just... worried... I know I am sorry that sounds super stalkerish, like I am watching you or something, but I was so worried that you got hurt or something because you never miss meals, even if you don't eat and I am so sorry for pointing that out I am just-"

"No, thank you Nagito." Hajime found himself thanking the rambling boy before he could stop himself. After the morning he had, being yelled at and just feeling shitty for fucking up, the kind words made him feel better more than he liked to admit. "But you don't have to worry, I'm fine." Hajime moved to walk past Komaeda, but Komaeda caught his arm. If Hajime had been feeling better, he could have easily brushed him off. But for some reason, Hajime couldn't find the strength to break away.

It didn't matter though, Komaeda hissed and pulled his hand back quickly. "You are burning!" He raised a hand to Hajime's face and pressed his hand to his forehead before Hajime could smack his hand away. "You definitely have a fever."

Hajime's stomach dropped. He knew Komaeda was probably right, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. "No, I told you, I am fine." Hajime stalked toward his room and let himself in, planning to slam the door behind him so that Komaeda did not follow him in, but at that exact moment, a violent wave of nausea hit him and he bolted to the toilet.

Hajime thought it was impossible to throw up nothing. But here he was, heaving over the toilet, nothing but spit falling in. As his entire body clenched and spasmed, he felt a soothing hand on his back. The presence beside him comforted him immensely; just knowing someone was there made this bout of vomiting just a bit more bearable than the first, even though it was worse.

Hajime wasn't sure how long he spent over the toilet, but he knew it was a while. After Hajime no longer felt the need to vomit up his entire stomach, he kept his head hidden in the bowl, unwilling to face Komaeda.

Komaeda stayed silent, rubbing Hajime's back. He gave him a moment, then curled his arms around Hajime's shaking torso. "Here," Komaeda said as he helped Hajime stand up. "You'll want to brush your teeth."

Hajime no longer had the energy to fight, so he just did whatever Komaeda told him to. He guided him through the motions of washing out his mouth, and allowed Komaeda to brush his teeth for him when it was apparent that his hands were shaking too bad. Komaeda took over wordlessly, not commenting on Hajime's shortcoming, but Hajime still had to close his eyes as Komaeda brushed his teeth for him. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but he knew it was a combination of shame over how useless he was and the fact Komaeda was so close to Hajime's face. He kept his eyes squeezed closed as Komaeda prompted him to spit, and only opened them once Komaeda began to lead him to the bed.

To be very honest, it was more like half dragging Hajime to the bed. Hajime couldn't seem to get his feet to work correctly, and it tore him up. As Komaeda sat him up on the bed and crouched to take off Hajime's shoes, Hajime found himself closing his eyes again. He didn't even ask me to try. He knows I can't do it. I'm fucking pathetic.

"Hey," Hajime felt a hand cup his face and he blinked his eyes open in surprise. He almost shut them again when he realized Komaeda was mere inches from his face. He could feel Komaeda's warm breath fan his own flushed face, and felt Komaeda's thumb wipe away tears he did not know he had shed. Hajime felt so weak and small, but when he looked into Komaeda's eyes, he got lost in the genuine sincerity they held. "It's okay. I want to help."

How did he? Hajime's mind was swirling. Had he said that out loud? He wasn't sure anymore. He was too overwhelmed to fight back at anything, so he just nodded weakly. He let Komaeda take off his shoes and turn him to lay down on the bed. He didn't fight when Komaeda got up to get him water and something to swallow; he just took it.

As Komaeda pulled the covers over Hajime, he finally realized what was happening.

"Wait, meeting..." he protested weakly, trying to sit up, but collapsing back onto the bed when his vision blurred and spun.

"I'll take care of it," Komaeda insisted. He pressed Hajime down into the covers and placed a wet towel on his forehead. Hajime didn't know where Komaeda had found it or gotten it, but he was grateful nonetheless.

"They can't... I'm not..." Hajime struggled to form words as exhaustion tugged at his mind.

"Don't worry," Komaeda smiled, shushing Hajime. "I won't tell them. It will be our secret."

Hajime knew that he should have been creeped out by that, just like all his peers would have been, but Komaeda's reassuring words and kind actions overwhelmed him. Hajime chalked it up to him being sick. He was probably delirious, and that was the reason why he felt like kissing Komaeda. It was the fever and not because he liked him, because he didn't.

"Thank you, Nagito," Hajime muttered with a small smile, his eyes closing before he could gauge Komaeda's reaction.

After that, Hajime fell into a deep sleep, no longer able to keep himself up for another second.

#komahina #hinakoma #super dangan ronpa 2 #sickfic #danganronpa #nagito x hajime #komaeda x hinata #Nagito Komaeda #Hinata Hajime #i love my little men #take a nap hajime :(#i feel like komaeda would be so good at taking care of sick people cause he was sick so often so he knows what to do to help #anyways #exams are over #mostly #for now lol #so ill just be posting rando stuff if id dont get requests #okay ill stop ranting now lol

42 notes · View notes

macbookpro-hard-drive · 5 years

Text

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.5

why is it almost 9 and im tired already smh

anyway, i almost titled this part 5 because i dont know what numbers are

update im a dumbass bc this was, indeed, part 5

warnings: uhhh sick moments. hospitals. guilt. squip aftermath. mentions of nightmares.

You woke up days later in the hospital.

The first thing that happened was a blur of motions: you trying to rip out your IV as you panicked, and a nurse who just opened the door grabbed you by the wrist to stop you before you did any true damage. Then came a thousand questions from a thousand people, all trying to pinpoint the when and why and how and what happened that you could barely remember at that moment. When your breathing picked up and panic set in, the room was cleared save for a single person taking vitals. When he left, you were alone. The room felt cold. The room was silent-

Wait.

The room was silent.

Oh, god, the room was silent.

It was gone. Your thoughts were your own again, yet it still felt as if a piece of you had been snapped off. Broken off. Crumbled away over time, yet - yet... how long had you been out? Hours? A day? You couldn’t completely recall. You remembered someone asking you the date, the time, the anything, but... it slipped your mind far too quickly as a thousand other questions followed suit. You squinted at the whiteboard on the wall across from you, stamped into the corner, and red dry-erase marker spelling out the date.

Barely two days. That was good. You were... you were fine. You were okay. This was okay. Two days was okay. Two days was much less than what Rich dealt with-

Oh. Fuck, Rich - had he woken up? He must still be in the hospital - was - were you in the same one? Fuck, you felt foggier than ever. Like the pieces wouldn’t connect, yet lined up perfectly. Every little bit of pressure merely popped the piece apart again, and it left nothing but frustration to fill the space between. You’d have to see him as soon as you could.

The first person who came to see you (not quite counting your parents) was Christine Canigula with a pretty bouquet of sunflowers in her arms. Her purse bounced against her hip with every step around the room (mainly due to her trying to find a nice place to set the flowers down), and she finally gently sat at the end of your bed and talked to you happily about everything that had gone on within the past few days. She opened her bag, fishing out a small little bag of assorted goodies that she placed in your hands.

“I thought you could use something nice,” she smiled, “I hope you get out of here soon.” When you couldn’t muster up anything past a weak smile, she continued, “Rich actually asked about you, when I saw him earlier.”

You looked up. “He did?” You asked, voice quiet and broken.

“Yeah!” She chirped, “he woke up the other day, actually,” she drummed her fingers against her leg, “

The second was Michael. Michael, who had a ball of emotions choking him as he searched for the right thing to say to you. Worried and angry and upset and... relieved. All of it evaporated as you told him everything. Every detail, every action explained - and he realized what lied beyond the glimpse you’d given him while you looked as if you were trying to escape his house. He sat on the edge of your bed in stunned silence, just staring at the floor as you felt guilt creep into your stomach.

“Michael?” You finally said, voice quiet. “I’m... I’m sorry.” You paused, “for everything. You - you don’t have to forgive me, but...”

“You used me.” He said. You could hear the underlying anger dripping from those three words alone.

“I know.” You swallowed your emotions. “I’m... I know it was awful and I should have fought more to not do that, but...”

He finally looked back at you. “So,uh... how much of that was real, then?”

You opened your mouth to answer, only to stop for a moment, looking away. “I... I don’t really know,” you said, voice cracking and giving you away entirely. “Shit.”

“I mean-” He said, “you were - it was weird, [y/n]. One minute you’d be one way, and then... you were, y’know, you. It was like things never changed.”

That hit you hard. “Michael?” You choked out his name, before continuing, “please don’t tell Jeremy.”

“What?” He stared at you, “[y/n], he deserves to know-”

“No! I mean - he does,” you clarified, “I just - I need to tell him this myself.”

He bit his tongue for a moment. “I, uh, I think I’m gonna have to tell him some things before he loses his shit, [y/n]. He was fuckin’ freaked when the ambulance drove off.”

After a moment of stunned quiet, you mustered up a quick nod. “Right. Just - don’t tell him everything, alright?”

The conversation had died there. After a few more minutes of silence, Michael stood and made his way to leave - rattling off the usual “get well soon” message that you expected.

“Michael?” You called out, and he stopped. “Thank you for coming to see me. I... I appreciate it.”

His smile had faded, and he nodded a little. “Yeah...” He looked back at you, and he looked so soft and genuine that time. “Later, [y/n].”

The next day, Jeremy was shoved into your room without much of a chance to gather his bearings. True to his word, Michael had explained a few things while leaving Jeremy pretty in the dark on what had happened. The hardest thing was looking at Jeremy and telling him the rest of your story. That you had wasted six hundred dollars on a stupid, shitty pill that you thought would help you. A pill that you thought would help you essentially get Jeremy to reciprocate the feelings that you bit back and hid underneath everything. You lied through your teeth that you had just wanted him and Michael back. You couldn’t just... admit that you had a crush on him, could you?

He reached out and laid a hand on your own. “Michael told me.”

Shit. Fuck. Nope. You nearly hit the button for a nurse in that moment to try and see if you could get him out. What the fuck, Michael? “He told you...?”

“Look,” he said, “I’m flattered, [y/n], I just... I like someone else. I mean, you’re - you’re cool and all, but-”

“I get it, Jeremy.” You said. “I... I understand.” You paused for a moment, “but... I did miss you and Michael, y’know.”

“Why’d we stop hanging out?” Jeremy asked.

Something inside of you hurt at that question. “I don’t know.” And that was true, to say the least. You had your suspicions, sure, but at the end of the day, the why rested without an answer.

He stared at you. “Wait...” He trailed off, before looking away. “Oh.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “shit.” He looked back at you, “hey, uh, I’m - I’m sorry for dropping you like that- I just-”

“I get it.” Which was sort-of the truth, at least. “You don’t have to apologize, Jeremy.”

“... Okay,” he said after a moment, “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you in school,” he stood, “feel better soon-”

And then he was gone.

Three months later, and you were still haunted by a voice in your head every so often. You started therapy shortly after you were released from the hospital, the mystery of what happened to you remaining as such. You started medication soon after, your depression having grown worse post-SQUIP (and your father had been glad for you getting help, since he’d admitted it hurt him to watch you suffer for so long while being unsure of what to actually do to help you). You attended group therapy outside of Metuchen.

You had Rich. Rich, who picked you up on Thursday nights to drive you to group and back again. Rich, who knew how you felt and hid his guilt for pulling you into this shitty world of trauma and pain that’d haunt you for who knows how long. Rich, who slung his arm around your waist casually when the two of you were hanging out and was touchy with you in a way that made you feel safe and secure. You had Rich at your side, the friend that you honestly had never expected to have but were glad for at the end of the day. While you wished he didn’t feel the pain that you did, it was almost... nice to know that someone else understood.

At two in the morning, one mid-February day, he called you.

“Another nightmare?”

“Yeah... you?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Yep,” he dragged the word out. “Uh - do you...?”

“You go first, Rich.”

His phone must have been on speaker, because you heard the sound of him shifting in bed - blanket swooshing as he probably turned over onto his side. “Same old shit.” He began, “I, uh, was in Jake’s house, and... it was on fire. My, uh... It was there.” He paused for a moment, “y’know. Saying the same shit.” You didn’t have to see Rich to know he was touching his neck, fingers running along the scars there. “What about you?”

Your phone was lying beside your head. Shutting your eyes, you took a breath before exhaling slowly. “It was, uh, actually... good for once. I mean - it started good. I was... I was with Jeremy. I... think we were dating? I don’t know - we were holding hands and I had let go and walked ahead only to notice he was standing still, and - it... it’s weird, Rich, but - I swear there was some kind of stupid circuit pattern that, like, trailed down his neck - and... and his smile, Rich-” You paused, taking a shaky breath, “and then I heard it.” Another long pause. “Then I woke up.”

You heard Rich suck in a breath. For the longest time, there was silence on the other end. Despite not hearing any chimes to indicate it, you thought that maybe he had hung up. But then he spoke, voice quiet and broken, “why did you say yes?”

“What?”

“To - to buying it, [y/n].”

You stared up at your ceiling. Soon enough, you kicked off your blankets as you grew too hot for comfort, shifting against to try and find some sort of comfortable position. “You sold it pretty well, I guess.” You started, before biting your lip for a moment, “I thought it could help me.”

“... With?”

You changed the topic. “Why’d you take it?”

No response.

“Rich?”

“Gretch is gonna fucking suck tomorrow.”

“... Yeah.”

“You wanna skip?”

No, you wanted to say. But you shrugged. “Yeah. Where are we doing?”

“Fuck, I don’t know - Wawa?”

“Sure.”

Rich’s truck was like a second home to you, between the times the two of you skipped classes and every drive to and from therapy. The two of you skipped class too often - sometimes morning classes, sometimes afternoon, it always depended on how the two of you were doing. Sometimes you’d sit in the Wawa parking lot, eating breakfast or lunch, enjoying the rebellious freedom that came with skipping class. The guilt would stay in the backseat, a constant reminder of your fuck-ups, but... you were glad to have a moment to breathe.

Rich’s hand found yours that morning. He squeezed it. For a minute, there were just two broken teens sitting together, holding hands, trying to feel less broken together.

Over a week later, you texted Rich after hearing it - or, at least, you thought you did. He told you to call Michael - closer to you, and carrier of the Mountain Dew Red at you and Rich’s mutual request. Your finger lingered over Michael’s contact information when a thought struck you, hard and heavy. Why call him? Why not let it come back and fix what it had done? You felt broken enough - how much more damage could it do to you? Besides... now you knew how to take care of it. Maybe that knowledge would be enough to help you gain some sort of control over it.

An hour later, Rich texted you saying Michael hadn’t heard from you. Another hour passed. He told you he was coming over. You couldn’t respond, staring at your phone blankly as tears began to well up. Thirty minutes later, rocks hit your window. Five minutes later, Rich was sitting on the end of your bed as you curled back up, the bottle sitting on the bed between the two of you. He looked tired, running a hand nervously through his hair as he didn’t meet your eyes.

“I know.” He said, breaking the silence. “Just - don’t fucking do it, okay?”

You broke your gaze away from the bottle. “What?”

“I... I’ve thought about it too,” he said, quieter this time. “But... I think...” He paused, “it’s just a bad idea, alright?”

“It can’t-”

“It can.” He stressed, before grabbing the bottle with one hand and your hand in the other. He pressed the bottle into your hand, curling your fingers around it in a cliche action. “Just - fucking drink it, [y/n]. I’m tired.”

“You can stay here tonight.”

“Nah,” he stood. “I... need to get home soon. Just... drink it, alright?”

He didn’t leave you until you finally obliged.

The chill in the air that came with early March was no match for the chill you felt whenever you were around Michael. But Michael had the soda, and Rich lived farther away from you, so he became your lifeline whenever you felt the prickly feeling that came with every nightmare of it and he, thankfully without much complaint, would show up on your front lawn. You sat next to him in silence, an half-empty bottle of Mountain Dew Red sitting in your lap as Michael quietly looked up at the stars. The feeling in your stomach almost seemed to weigh you down, keeping you in place until Michael decided he’d had enough, until he gave up on sitting with you.

But he didn’t. He just sat there in silence, wearing his signature red hoodie in an attempt to keep himself warm. His breath colored the air with a puff of white as he exhaled. It was too cold for this shit, and yet... he sat with you.

“What was it like?” He began at one point, slowly looking over to you. “Y’know... the...” He paused, before tapping his temple, as if you hadn’t understood before. But you understood the why there.

“Like I was a puppet,” you said, echoing back something you’d said before in therapy. Almost completely subconsciously, you tugged at your sleeve. “I... I could disobey, but... it would get mad, and - and I didn’t like that, so I just... I did what it told me to. Sometimes, it would...” The ghost of a shock silenced you, and your breath hitched for a second as you try to regain some control over yourself.

When Michael’s hand landed on your forearm, you flinched immediately. But before he could fully tear his hand away from you (having only just pulled it away slightly), you immediately shifted closer to him. Almost as if he understood, he opened himself to you, and - after hesitating for too many moments - you nearly collapsed into his arms, wrapping your own around his torso and burying your face in his neck. At first you had just wanted the comfort. The warmth of another person. But your breath went shaky, and before Michael could say or do anything else, he heard you choke back a sob before you clutched at the fabric of his hoodie. Every soft, broken apology sent pain rippling through him. He’d been so pissed with you before, and now...

Now it was as if Michael was a child again, having seen the aftermath of hurricanes through Florida on the news. Or like the car accident he once witnessed, only staring before one of his moms tore him away from the sight, picking him up with ease and keeping his face turned away. He understood, all within that moment. He knew you were hurting, and in turn, he felt that pain too. He had hurt. He was in so much damn pain when he found out you’d originally just been using him, and now... he understood that maybe (or, perhaps, definitely, but a definite wasn’t quite there yet in his book) nothing had been your idea. Part of him wanted to look away from you, to give you some kind of privacy, and yet... you clung to him. You kept your face buried in his neck, hot tears wetting his skin, and you shook in his arms as you kept stammering out apology after apology for things that did and didn’t involve him.

That was when Michael decided that forgiveness was back on the table. Neither of you were ready to have that talk, but... the fact of the matter was that he let that option exist again. Every glimpse of you that had come flooding back to him when he visited you in the hospital seemed to haunt his memory once more. The real you. The you he hadn’t seen in so long. And, if he were honest, the you that he genuinely had begun to miss when your presence disappeared all that time ago.

He was ready to try again, if you were there to meet him halfway.

The following Wednesday came with a disgusting feeling of dread the moment that thunder clapped during your last class. You’d left your umbrella at home - clear skies, your weather app had lied - and chances were you were going to miss your bus when meeting with the guidance counselor quickly after school (because, of course, shit never worked out in your favor). So you clenched your jaw and pulled your bag close to you, taking off as the rain pounded against the pavement. You almost slipped, you could barely see through the rain, and you were already soaked to the bone by the time you were a fourth of the way home. When you heard a car coming down the street, you thought nothing of it until it slowed down, pulling over towards the side of the road and steadily crawling alongside you.

Well, fuck, if you were about to die, at least you wouldn’t deal with-

The car honked. When you turned, you immediately recognized the P.T. Cruiser and the two boys inside of it. Immediately, the passenger side window rolled down. “Get in, loser, we’re going shopping-”

“Michael-” You started to say, only to stop as you weigh your options. Get in the car and face Michael and Jeremy - or keep waking home in the rain. You barely even considered the latter as you pulled open the back door, throwing your bag in and immediately slipping into the warm car.

The backseat was comfortable. It had always been comfortable, actually - that much was certain. Even when you were shivering endlessly, sopping-wet backpack lying in the floorboard between your legs as you rub your arms in some attempt to get warm, you felt strangely at home sitting in the back of Michael’s car. The sticker was still on the head-rest of the driver’s side. Jeremy kept looking back at you every so often as Michael made his way towards your house. The moment he turned onto your street, you went for your keys.

And, of fucking course, you must have forgotten them that morning. So you ended up in Michael’s house, sitting on his bed in some of his spare clothes while your clothes are being oh-so-lovingly laundered by the ever-so-gracious Michael Mell. You toyed with the fabric of tee-shirt you were wearing, some indie band logo printed across the chest - something that felt so Michael, when you thought about it. Of course he’d have some obscure merch. You sat there with one of your class binders in your lap, working on homework when you finally get to geometry. As if to make the day even worse, you realized you were missing your calculator.

“Shit,” you said, “fuck-” You looked up to Michael and Jeremy, “can I, uh, borrow a calculator? I think I left mine at school-”

Jeremy stared at you for a split second before immediately going for his own bag. He stammered through a sentence, before he finally pulled out a familiar purple case and held it out to you. “I, uh, was going to give it to you tomorrow - I meant to give it back earlier but I, uh, forgot-”

You took it gingerly from him, before kind-of smiling in return. “It’s fine,” you said, “thank you-” and then you cut yourself off with a sneeze, your arm flying to cover your mouth.

Michael chuckled a little as he laid back, stretching himself along the foot of his bed. “If you needed a ride, you should have just asked, ya goof,” he smiled at you.

You nudged him with your foot. “Come on, Mell,” you said, “I thought I’d be fine.”

“You’re lucky Jeremy saw you, y’know,” he said, “I didn’t notice you crossing the street earlier, so...”

Jeremy flushed at the comment. Your gaze flickered from him back to Michael, “I thought you were driving, Michael.”

“I was!”

“Aren’t you supposed to pay attention?”

“I was!” He said again, sitting up, “you weren’t even crossing in front of me!”

“Thank god for that,” you said.

“Wh- I wouldn’t hit you!”

“That’s what they all say, Michael.” You smiled a little, “no, dude, I totally wouldn’t kill my wife, who would do that? Not me. I wouldn’t kill my wife-”

“[y/n]!” Michael poked you in the leg, “come on - I don’t think I’d be that obvious-”

“Are you seriously trying to say you’d be able to get away with that?” You said, only to notice how silent Jeremy had gone. When you looked back to him, you noticed that he had just sat there, watching you and Michael playfully bicker over his totally not real plans to murder someone. When your eyes meet his, he blinked, awkwardly smiling as he looked away and towards his phone. You barely get a glimpse of the time before you realized that your parents should be home.

So Michael drove you (and Jeremy) home at long last, leaving you to thank him a thousand times on the way there and as you got out of the car. You barely had time to wave back at him before you crossed your front lawn to get to shelter, rain pelting you the entire time as you head inside with plans to tackle your homework.

The next morning, you felt like shit. At three in the morning, you woke up with the grossest feeling taking hold of you and forcing you out of bed and to the bathroom. With a disgusting taste left in your mouth, you sank back, your senses completely muffled as you realized what had happened. Fever. Fuck. You pressed your back against the rim of the bathtub, and you breathed. Shit. Shit shit shit shit- you didn’t need to get sick. You skipped enough class as it was - this was only going to make shit worse.

You didn’t realize you passed out shortly after until your dad stumbled across you. He woke you up gently, before helping you to your feet and helping your sluggish form back to your bedroom after pressing a cold hand against your forehead. Shaking his head, he walked you to your bed, leaving the room and returning with a cup of water to leave on your nightstand. He told you that he would be at work, but that your mom would drop by during her lunch break to check on you and hopefully bring some medicine. You barely processed it before you fell back asleep.

The next time you woke up was around lunchtime. You still felt hazy and hot with fever, but the sound of your phone going off was enough to capture your attention. Michael. He had asked where you were, and you barely have enough energy to type out what you thought was just a simple “fever” - thankfully, auto-correct caught you - before you turned back over with the intent of going back to sleep. Barely ten minutes pass before your mom came in with a plastic bag in her hands, rattling off the contents of it before she felt your forehead. She told you to get some more rest. You happily obliged.

The next day, after a night of bland soup and forcing down your meds with ice cold water, you see a newly formed group chat with you, Michael, and Jeremy, poised proudly at the top of your messages.

Michael: u guys need anything or

You stared at the message. You guys? You barely have time to try and question it further when a text bubble popped up.

Jeremy: i’m good

You: what

You: you ok, jer?

Jeremy: no im sick

You: what

You: how???

Jeremy: you

Michael: jeremys being a little bitch

Michael: hes always like this when he’s sick

Michael: you need anything, [y/n]??

You: idk some good soup would be rad

You: my dad brought some gross shit last night and it sucked

You: parents got medicine.

You: send me love.

You: and tissues

Jeremy: please let me sleep

You: sorry jer

Michael: kk

Later that afternoon, the doorbell rang. You forced yourself out of bed, managing to get the front door open only to see a little plastic bag sitting right outside of it. You looked up to see Michael standing outside of his car, and you could only assume that he rushed back to his car to avoid exposure. He waved at you, only budging from his spot when you wave back at him.

Bless Michael Mell and the soup he brought you. You’d have to thank his mom. Or maybe both of them - they were both goddesses in your eyes. You only knew that Michael couldn’t cook for shit.

At midnight, you woke up again, a dull hunger restless in your stomach. You had left some soup for later, and you were fully ready to heat the rest of it up and devour it. You shoved the Tupperware bowl into the microwave, punching in a number before you swayed into the counter, leaning against it to keep yourself standing as the microwave buzzed. Strangely enough... it almost felt internal after a minute.

Then you heard it. Your own name being cooed in a voice that sent shivers and a ghost of a shock through you. Glitching in and out. You panicked. You bolted, dashing to your room to find your phone. Your hands were shaking as you went to unlock it, fucking it up the first two times before finally getting it the last. You didn’t think. You went for the first number you saw.

The moment someone picked up, you spoke. “Michael,” you said, voice caught in your throat, “shit - dude- it’s - it’s back-” You took a breath, trying to calm yourself before continuing, “just - I need the Mountain Dew Red. Please-”

You heard a distant, groggy “...what?” on the other hand as a hand fell over your own, causing you to slowly lower the phone as it appeared before you.

It stood tall as ever, eyes gentle, manipulating your senses as you swore you felt warmth from it’s hand over your’s. “We can fix this.” It said, voice quiet. Soft. Gentle. “We can start over and make everything right.”

“I...” You whimpered, attempting to take a step back. Instinctively, you dropped your phone and shut your eyes and covered your ears in an attempt to drown everything out. “No.” The word spilled past your lips once, twice, too many times as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Fingers grazed your cheek almost lovingly. “Just let me fix this, [y/n].” It said softly, almost kind, and you felt your stomach drop. “You can reboot me - just - another dose of regular Mountain Dew-”

“No,” you shook your head, “I’m - you’d-”

“I’ll fix this. I promise-”

The sound of frantic knocking at your front door was enough to force you to your feet as you rushed to answer before anyone else could wake up. “Michael-”

Jeremy stood there, soaking wet and panting like crazy as he clutched a bottle of salvation within his right hand. He straightened up a bit, holding it out to you. “Sorry - Michael, uh, gave me a few bottles as back-up so I ran-” He said.

He shut up the moment you flung your arms around him, burying your face in his chest, completely ignoring the soda he carried in favor of comfort. Just for a second. That’s all you had needed. He stiffened up underneath you as you clung to him, only for you to pull away almost immediately after.

After you took the bottle and unscrewed the cap, downing the drink with nothing with a minor headache following in it’s wake, Jeremy could only stare at you. “You... You really heard it, huh?”

You winced, breath hitching as you swayed slightly. Jeremy’s hands found your shoulders, steadying you as you looked back up at him. “I-” You started, only to stop immediately, “thank you- I’m- I’m sorry you had to run here.” You paused, “I... didn’t know it was raining, or I wouldn’t have-”

“It’s fine,” he said, letting go of you as he took a small step back. “I’m - I’m gonna head back home-”

Thunder clapped. Lightning flashed in the distance. You reached out and caught him by the wrist, “stay here.” You said, “it’s - it’s late, and... and I don’t want you walking home in the rain.”

He almost debated with you, but another growl of thunder was enough to debunk whatever argument he was formulating as he followed you inside. You locked your front door back, retreated back to your room to find some clean clothes that would hopefully fit him (thank fuck for all your baggy shit, still hidden away in your closet), and handed him a towel. The microwave chirped for what you could assume was the thousandth time, and you rushed to stop it - only to have to punch in more time. You could hear the shower running from the room over. The hum of the microwave, the smell of spices tinting the air... and you felt alive. You were there. Breathing. Heart pumping. Mind... going, at least - even if there were moments of betrayal there. You were still there, and it was strange to think about that sometimes.

The water shut off abruptly, and you pulled yourself from your thoughts as you stopped the microwave just a second before it was meant to go off. As you seated yourself at the kitchen table, Jeremy emerged and made his way over to you. He pulled out the chair nearest to you, and slowly sank into it.

“You feeling better?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I, uh, I should be asking you that.”

“You were sick too, Jeremy,” you said, “why’d you run here?”

“You sounded scared,” he shrugged, “besides - I’m better-” Immediately he was cut off by a cacophony of coughs, as he turned away from you. “I’m fine. What about-” He finally looked back at you, still embarrassed of the shades of red he’d turned, “what about you?”

You suppressed a smile. “I’m... decent.” You shrugged, “I’ve... never really seen it before tonight.”

“You haven’t?”

“Nope.” You paused, “I dunno. Maybe being sick like... weakened me or something.” After another pause, you noticed Jeremy shiver. “You can take my room, Jer. It’s warmer - I’ll just - I’ll take the couch-”

“It’s fine, [y/n] - I’ll just - I’ll sleep on the floor-”

“You are not sleeping on the floor, Jeremiah,” you feigned offense, “you are a guest! You’ll take my room and I’ll sleep on the floor-”

“You’re still sick too, y’know,” he retorted, “just - I’ll take one side of the bed if you want-”

“Fine.” You frowned as you stood, “if you insist.”

After leaving the bowl in the sink, filled with water in the classic “it has to soak” manner, you lead Jeremy to your bedroom. You snagged your phone from the floor, plugging it back into charge as you took one side of your bed - making sure to stay as close to the edge as possible while Jeremy took the other. The room was almost silent, the sound of Jeremy breathing quiet enough to merely tint the air.

Right as you started to fall asleep, you turned onto your back. “Jeremy?” You said, stifled by a yawn. When he hummed in acknowledgement, you continued, “thanks for coming here.”

You barely caught his soft, almost hesitant “yeah, uh, no problem” as you fell asleep.

#mj's writing corner #be more chill x reader #be more chill reader insert #bmc reader insert #bmc imagine #jeremy heere x reader #jeremy heere imagine

44 notes · View notes

starsailorstories · 4 years

Text

I’m just posting this bc, idk, I’ve gotten tired of not posting much writing on tumblr, and I’m not sure how much of this particular storyline is in or out of vol. 2 at this point so I feel like I can post it and...probably not be spoiling anything

Backstory here for those who don’t know it: Lionna Luneia Sola (whose full name, fun fact, literally means “north star, full moon, [local] sun”) is next in line for a very high and favored noble office titled by the Hyperians (so her power is tied to the aula’s--that’s important) and was pressured into a political marriage to the daughter of a wealthy shipbuilder in response to a direct request made of her aunt by the royal family. Her wife died pretty young just by chance, leaving Lionna positioned to inherit control of a huge business on top of her political duties, and a few quinturns later her parents made an ill-fated trip to the Milky Way and were lost in space. So for the past half-turn or so she’s been panicking alone at the top of the world, putting off her official instatement as a Marchiesa of the Outer Rings. Her only real confidant is Definite, a former umbralis who was assigned to serve her when they were both young teens and now is with the rebellion. She’s still posing as her umbralis because the proximity to power is really good for the rebellion’s intelligence situation, and at this point that’s all out in the open and Lionna’s become sympathetic and is trying to leverage her position to keep Defi and her allies as safe as possible, but there’s still a lot of baggage there. Also she’s been secretly in love with her since they were kids together, but that is SO taboo and also seems a bit exploitative so she’s trying to push those feelings away somewhere convenient. ANYWAY,

Lionna climbs the Aula’s thirty-six steps, lifting the few remaining corners of her mourning-scarlet drapery that aren’t folded over Definite’s arm. She’s come as discreetly as she can manage, but by design there isn’t really a discreet way to inherit a noble office in the Rings.

Particularly when you’re late.

“You’re late,” Maximata Caliopa observes, traveling diagonally to meet her halfway up.

“I know. I got stuck at security.”

“You would think they would know who you are by now.”

“Well, rules are rules,” she says, with what she hopes is a beatific, gentle smile worthy of someone who hasn’t been making up excuses all day.

“Never were truer words spoken,” the Maximata replies, taking her hand with a ferocity that overextends her elbow and nearly takes poor Defi down. “We’re only going to have a tenth hour to run through the fine points for the ceremony.”

“I know them,” Lionna answers softly, “it isn’t my first court season.”

At the gates one porter ushers them in; another takes up the train of Lionna’s robe and points Definite to a doorway on the side. They have a single instant to exchange invisible glances as she gives her tiny hand-to-shoulder bow and disappears. “Learned by sight is not learned by core,” the Maximata rebukes as they pass the threshold. “Oh,” she adds, as if she’s just noticed the color of the sleeve she’s holding, “sorry about your parents.”

The tenth hour of preparation feels to Lionna like something she might hallucinate, if she ever gets as far as hallucinations. Seemingly cradled in a dozen glittering gold arms at once, she is kissed from bended knee like a shrine statue, drilled in verses like a child before a school exam, and prepared for the empress’s scouring purity like a traitor on death row.

“Pray, first, for alignment in the orbits. Maximata Teleonara withered in a year after she became a lady-in-waiting and the lower lumini here say it’s all because she was unworthy in our most exalted lady’s presence.”

“Sounds like the worthy have nothing to fear, then.”

“Don’t be proud, it’s best to be on the safe side. We’re all of us subject to decay in this world. There might be some little thing you’ve forgotten.”

Lionna flashes her practiced cheeky smile--voidside warmth and Jenya sparkle--and says what it will let her get away with. “And what does your all-knowing chambermaid claim Teleonara was up to, senneta?”

“Oh, she--” The goldlighted Maximata refuses to corrupt her junior’s innocence for exactly a second before she lowers her voice. “You know. She had been a bit too affectionate with a certain clone.”

She doesn’t have time to decide if that, too, is an examination: others are offering condolences as more than an afterthought, bringing up family history in appreciative tones. All avoid the subject of the house signet she is to receive, which has been quietly re-cast--its ancient counterpart presumably floats somewhere far away, drifting as the void-currents bid--whether or not it remains on a Sola scionette’s finger.

As Caliopa predicted, a satellite’s satellite--handmaid to a lady-in-waiting, she’s pretty sure--comes curtsying in and announces that the empress has requested both of their presence well before Lionna feels ready. She kneels and puts her new gloves on, as suggested, in a kind of consecrated vestibule opposite the door to the great chambers. The threats aren’t quite enough to move her to pray for her own purification--the empress, after all, can’t be anything but a very old lady behind a screen, and on the brink of doing what she most dreads, Lionna finds it hard to be afraid of her. Instead she says Ella’s forbidden prayers, for the dead, for the seafaring. She asks for Avia, who certainly strove for wisdom in a way she never could, to find herself reborn somewhere just a bit less meticulously humble--somewhere she could relax a bit. She asks for her sennamiae to tarry somewhere close, where maybe somehow they can tell her what to do. And she asks, though she suspects it’s going too far in spirit if not in letter, that she never use the power she is about to receive to harm a lesser being, even by accident, even without knowing.

Past the high polished doors and curtains of onyx beads that announce the boundaries between mundane and royal, the unnatural hush and cleanliness of the city is total. Guards and gold-trailing courtiers--favorites of the dynasty, elevated to proximal splendor--seem to float over their reflections in the floor, engaged in brief meetings of shoulders and hands that, while no sound or light is exchanged in their courses, manage to look significant. If it weren’t for the clear aisle laid across the floor, which they avoid, and the grand principa with a representative of the praeceptorate on her arm at the end of it, it might seem she has no particular role in this scene at all.

The empress is perfectly invisible. The enormous screen at the back of the room, with its Syfrae glyphs and sun lilies, stands for her, like brass circles for the goddesses in an Aivuran temple. Her presence presumably affords the hush, the courtiers, the guards, the officials, and all the other bits--but otherwise it casts no radiance. She cannot even see her light.

It’s a relief, though she imagines for some it’s a disappointment. Where the aisle dead ends she sinks to her knees, pressing her folded hands to the floor the way she watched her wife do many times before her various relatives. This is how it feels, she thinks for an instant, and then immediately takes it back. A person’s place is more than a gesture, more than its trappings and symbols--more than its glyphs and sun lilies, more than its courtiers and guards.

Isn’t it?

The grand principa extends her hand; Lionna takes it, at light-level, between both her own. With the aula’s protocols of silence and obscurity at their deepest, homage is given wordlessly and taken with a nod. She closes her eyes and feels the principa’s other hand cross over to slide the signet ring over her thumb. She feels the covered stinger at her wrist catch, just briefly, on her sleeve as she straightens it. With a second nod the posture is dismissed. At last she raises--partly--the dense red lace that covers her face.

The little rhombus of lacquer takes only an instant to apply, from a tiny brush in the praeceptor’s hand, over top of her old First Daughter fiddlehead. She hasn’t been expecting to be regenerated atom by atom, but it’s certainly faster, softer, and less of a shift than she’s assumed. Becoming a Marchiesa, it turns out, feels exactly like coming of age, finishing school, and getting married: like absolutely nothing.

Suddenly she wants to scream. To break the silence irreparably, into a million shards. It isn’t that she didn’t walk in disenchanted, but the layers of forced profundity feel, now, personally insulting. How dare they set this, any of it, her, apart, when everything was so sickeningly random, when anyone wearing any ring could die.

She places her hands and bows, a second time, in gratitude. She rises slowly, she takes even steps; eyes fixed forward on the shrine at the end of the hall. When she reaches it she stops, feeling the stares hit her shoulders one by one, and stays frozen until the doors are closed.

And still without a word, she runs.

It seems as if nobody stands in her way, but somebody must have noted her flight, because Definite waits at the door for her. She pulls her behind with a toss of her head--their familiar way, touching without touching--and clears the steps before anyone can breathe a word of congratulation to her. She is too fast for the valets; she finds her little ship in the long line by the violets twining up the nose. Before the lacquer is dry, they are together with their ragged breathing, shrieking over the rings in the voidward direction of home.

#sweet chariot #vol. 2 #lionna #definite #the aula

6 notes · View notes