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one-of-us-must-be-crazy · 20 days

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@lupinedreaming here it is!

going through all my old AI fanfics.... I found, among silly things and actual concepts for universe-typical sequels, and work-arounds to make Amanda/Samuels work as a ship....a really, really, really silly AU where about a year after getting back from the events of Isolation, Amanda finds out that her mother is alive, and goes to meet her. It's literally never seeing the light of day, plus most of the fic was lost on a flashdrive that was damaged, so here's the synopsis of it:

Now there are already two existing and hysterical fics out there on the tags of Ellen "I don't fucking trust robots" Ripley finding out that Amanda is in a relationship with one, but this covered not only the discovery, but the long-haul family dynamics too. Because Ellen and Amanda are technically about the same age, and Hicks is actually a little younger than Amanda, and Amanda tries very hard not to resent Newt.

Newt adapts pretty well to civilian life again, because she's the most resilient kid in the galaxy, but her stories of home are kind of...insane to her teachers. "So I have a mom, a sister, my sister's robot, a step-dad, a robot-step-dad, and a cat. And I have my sister's cats!"

Ellen is a decent parent, Hicks was the youngest out of all girls so he doesn't know much about kids, and also they both work to keep sane, so Bishop is the one who regularly picks up Newt from school.

Amanda and Newt do end up getting along eventually, because Newt drops military phrases and curses she's picked up from Hicks and Bishop, and Amanda teaches her how to say 'fuck' properly in a sentence and then blames the two men (Hicks immediately defensive, because, yeah, Newt might have learned that from him, but to be fair, she could have heard it from Ellen too).

Samuels is 1000% obsessed with Newt and spoils her terribly, like she's his step daughter or only niece rather a sister-in-law (kiiiiiiind of?), cannot stop to visit without bringing her toys, various gifts, a remote control drone once that was way too expensive to give to a ten year old. Ellen disapproves, because what the fuck the kid needs human socialization, Amanda gets mad both on behalf of Samuels, and what the fuck Bishop is right there, and he LIVES here and you're going to say that? Bishop does not give a fuck, however he does like Amanda, and does end up a referee on half of her visits.

Verlaine is still in the picture too, who has, ESPECIALLY after the reunion with Ellen, kind of become an older sister/parental figure to Amanda, and has also showed up before to various holidays mostly to act as a buffer. She had a similar career path as Ellen and gets along with her, and Ellen is...not jealous exactly as much as thoughtful about the fact that had nothing happened, then this woman is very much what she might have become. Who she still might become.

(Conner is also around still, but he's retired. He and his partner, Hank--ex-colonial marine and an old superior of Zula's--are done with space. If anyone wants to visit them on good old Terra, then can fly down on their own. When this doesn't work out, they're usually called at least once during a holiday just to say hi.)

Verlaine knows about Samuels (personally HC that everyone involved knew that he was a synthetic; if Samuels had orders to not disclose this information, he did a bad job of it with his stupid little jokes in the game), and she knows about Davis (he looks like a working joe with glasses, it's kind of obvious), and doesn't really think one way or another about them personally, but is a bit. Not...not-accepting of the human/synthetic relationship, it just threw a wrench in her worldview and she had to watch herself to keep from being an asshole over it.

One holiday Amanda has a massive fight with Ellen, and Samuels offers to stay behind while she goes over to (idk, in the fic I had it listed as an independent city on Mars) to patch things up. Like hell, she thinks, but Samuels kiiiiiind of guilt trips her into it by asking her what she's going to think Newt will feel like if Amanda doesn't show up. Since she's going alone, and she can't take Zula (who has said "if I ever meet your mom, I'm going to fucking fight her," like any good friend would), she doesn't want to travel on a public ship, and calls in a favor to Verlaine.

Ellen took this as IMMEDIATELY as an insult, that Amanda would bring this woman, but gives some offhand story about how Verlaine had some cargo contract at the colony anyway, so it wouldn't make sense for Amanda to pay for a ride, and she doesn't like to travel alone anymore. (She is texting both Samuels, and a group-text with him, Davis, and Zula, the entire trip, but it's frustrating--Samuels in writing is impersonal and dry, and there's almost no privacy at her mom and Hicks's apartment to actually talk on the phone).

Verlaine is calm, even when Amanda and Ellen start their argument again in the kitchen (Amanda had Samuels on a video call with her and Newt ,and they were joking about kidnapping Newt for a long weekend without telling her mom. Ellen heard this). She just sits in the main room watching Hicks attempt to play some strategy board game against Newt, who keeps asking Bishop for help (no mercy, he keeps giving Newt suggestions that will win her the game almost immediately). Verlaine asks him how he ended up in this...interesting family unit. Bishop tells her he was part of the same team as Hicks, and didn't have anywhere else/anyone else left. She likes this guy. He's rational and calm, even when Hicks gets dragged against his will into the argument in the kitchen, and Newt demands that he play against her instead.

Verlaine tries to help Newt, they still lose, and Newt says it's fine, because Bishop always wins, and if he didn't then that means she would never have beaten Hicks and it was worth it. Amanda finally storms out of the kitchen and asks Newt if she wants to go to the arcade, ignoring the fact that there's already a game going on. Newt immediately is ready to abandon the game at hand, and is already pulling on her kid-sized combat boots to run out the door. Hicks and Ellen are now yelling (or rather the latter is yelling, possibly crying, and Hicks is trying to calm her down without throwing Amy under the bus because he's a good person). Verlaine asks Bishop if he wants to go to the bar across the street. The nice one. And get out of earshot of....all this. He tries to point out of the obvious fact he isn't sure she caught onto, but he dismisses him before he can finish a thought and then agrees.

Amanda and Newt stay out far later than Ellen would have liked, Amanda argues it's holiday, there's no such thing as bedtime when school is out, and honestly at least she was texting Hicks that her and Newt weren't dead, and to not let Ellen call the police. Newt is sitting at the table eating ice cream for breakfast because Amanda isn't her mom and isn't going to tell her no (does Amanda desperately want this kid to like her? Maybe). There is a giant stuffed creature (alien? monster? mutant bear? Amanda couldn't tell) sitting at the table as well, the spoils of the 100,000 tickets they won after Amanda might have accidentally-on-purpose shorted out a game at the right moment. Hicks comes downstairs first wearing cartoon-character pajamas. He notices Newt is eating ice cream, but doesn't say anything because honestly he really really wants to avoid a scene, so he simply removes the stuffed animal and takes a seat and fuck it, helps himself to ice cream too.

Amanda makes a remark about how she wishes she was still young enough to eat junk for breakfast without getting sick, Hicks tells her to fuck off but he's just glad Amanda is at ease enough to joke. He asks her if they won the giant plush monstrosity (It's a platypus! Newt insists, but it's definitely not) by getting Bishop to cheat, because Newt nearly got banned from the arcade by having a synthetic beat all the games for her a few months ago. Amanda says no, she cheated fair and square as a human, and didn't think synthetics could cheat (Samuels always told her he couldn't, and she's already taking out her phone to point out she caught the lie), and Bishop didn't even go with them.

Hicks isn't worried exactly, but confused--there was no one home last night when he set the alarm codes, and the only entrances were Amanda and Newt.

Ellen comes downstairs too, opens her mouth to tell off the adults about Newt's breakfast, Hicks gives her a ''do not start this again'' look, and Ellen goes for the coffee machine and it's empty. Amanda says she had to dig in the cabinets for a french press because she couldn't figure out the machine. Hicks says no one can figure out the digital machine, it was a gift, Bishop usually talks to it to get it to work at all--then Ellen looks around, and where is he anyway? Amanda shrugs, she's still texting Samuels demanding to know why he never helped her cheat at the arcade, and he's replying with a series of partially sarcastic auto-reply style ''it is against my programing'' (her reply was ''so is fucking your operator on the kitchen counter but that never stopped you," to which he replied with a series of emojis that she cannot figure out what they have to do with their conversation).

Newt's telling Hicks excitedly about how Amanda ''solved'' the games, and he is liking his (daughter in law??? oh that's weird. he and Ellen aren't technically--well. it's complicated. the whole situation is complicated, but then again when is family ever not complicated?) either way, he's like Amanda more and more. She defends herself to Ellen that one of Newt's classmates was there and mocking her for being bad at one of the shooters, and Ellen hasn't had enough coffee yet to argue and also where the fuck is Bishop???

Amanda gets snippy because why is she asking her; when her and Newt left everyone was still home, and she knew she should have just stayed on the ship with Verlaine--then the paranoia she feels when Samuels doesn't come back when he says he will sets in. Does he have a phone? What if someone fucking stole him? What if a WeYu officer found him???? Hicks check the front door camera why the fuck doesn't he carry a cell phone????? (Bishop does Not carry a phone unless he thinks that Newt might need help for something, Ellen and Hicks are adults, and he likes to have some Quiet when he goes out). Amanda is mildly freaking out while Ellen tries to talk with Newt about her and Amanda cleaning out the arcade, and Hicks is scrolling through the security camera cursing that he's going to put a tracker on the guy if he wanders off ag--

The door opens, and Bishop walks in, looking extremely innocent for someone carrying his one nice jacket over his shoulder (his formal marine one), and wearing last night's clothes. Amanda takes 45 seconds to put it together, and turn bright red; Hicks takes about 46 seconds and has a shiteating grin on his face, demanding he is told EVERYTHING, to which the synthetic calmly says there are ladies and a child present, so he will Not. Amanda then bolts to figure out from Verlaine if they need to flee, and also not wanting Ellen's reaction to this. Amanda skips out on texting and calls despite the thin walls, forgetting for a second that everyone can hear her downstairs, at least they hear her part of the conversation "WHAT do you MEAN you DIDN'T NOTICE?" (thankfully for Bishop's dignity they can't hear Verlaine say ''I thought he was just really polite and also oddly subordinate for ex-military?" just Amanda's following reply of "OH MY GOD I DIDN'T WANT TO KNOW THAT? He's like--technically my uncle or something oh my god, Verlaine.").

Naturally, Samuels is informed immediately, but Amanda accidentally text her group chat with him, Zula, and Davis instead. Davis says she should add Verlaine and Bishop to the chat now too. Amanda says over her dead body and Davis is actively hacking her phone. Amanda's hoping that the date went alright enough that there's nothing awkward but bad enough that this never gets discussed again. Hicks is still actively teasing the poor bot over this; and eventually weasels it out of him that he invited 'Diane' back over because he didn't want her to feel like she wasn't welcome here, and can everyone please act like adults about this thank you. Amanda is still trying to get Davis out of her phone. Samuels calls her "You should probably tell Verlaine about the er...when you did the--Davis said it happened to him when Ms. Hendricks--anyway warn her about the risk of system crashing." Amanda tells him she's not doing that, tells him to keep the conversation safe for her mother to hear because the guest room walls are paper thin, and she walks out of the bedroom door to see Ellen standing there ''Is this something that all your friends are into?? or some kind of trauma response???" [Samuels hears and says ''Hello Ms. Ripley,'' politely and a bit louder than he was talking with Amanda. Ellen repsonds with ''if you actually assist in kidnapping my youngest daughter I will remove your batteries," "Merry Christmas to you too, Ellen" (Davis, in Amanda's phone, hearing all of this types into the group chat: don't tell Ellen what battery removal can do or she's going to kill you. Tell Verlaine though. The marine could probably use a reset like that.) Amanda tells Samuels good bye and then turns the phone off to get rid of Davis]

#mine #this is EXTREMELY silly

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writer59january13 · 1 year

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Inevitable death defines afterlife

I mull mortality

thru lens crafted occipital orbs regarding a better future

experience sing a space oddity –

whar incessant yaks exuding a big hurt

emanate as cosmic atomic

bipedal hominids replete roof lee wax during a foggy day in London town

despite current requisite vacs

in nation, with no win intent to tax earning income sans

new career in a new town

sacred gaia,

boot merely regale bing alive -

till death rattle racks breaking rocks

on a small plot of land –

named abdulmajid

this hue man vesicle

honking duck dine hasty billed quacks trumpeting as absolute beginners

hoe ping toot trumpet

sum dimming sense n sensibility cashed; screaming across the universe

gnome matter whirled wide web

tattered like worn school packs scattering fractal moonbeams

african night flight

scouring virtual briny deep

satiating hunger after all

sans respite from stressors 2-tha max ending after today at al alba

finds me caught up

in global game of thrones listening as dueling banjos

play alabama song

cosmic forces play bingo or jax keeping aladdin sane

while mortals on earth join

fine null scene grim reaper as final acts.

This then bryn mawr clowning bozo

belting out algeria touchshriek anthem

haint no wah shaky spear butta rip peats living virtuous like all saints moss lee same old epithet via matt speak, comprehending all the madmen

which maxim (or similar facsimile thereof) generating kickstarting optimism

among all the young dudes

attributed to bard of avon on stratford;

reaching renown when almost grown

e.g. rose by any other name.... embalming owed grecian formula lovers

always crashing in the same car

much ado about nothing amazing amlapura and amsterdam

couched in binary granules viz badinage, interlocking rem cycles

during an occasional dream

literary espionage donned

as persnickety persiflage, quite lame

convincing brilliance

to whit, and I say to myself eventually...all's well

that ends well sans this game reveling like any Warhol –

tripping anyway, anyhow, anywhere

of thrones - n this yahoo

pledges allegiance n fealty during the post world war two art decade

within parameters of cyberspace

cuz crest o kinship I aim.

Ike kin only imagine dragons

drooling n eyes glazed o’er bleacher blitzing the madding crowd

as the world falls down

than lovely bones re:

unique scrunched facial feature burning down the house ashes to ashes

twisted countenances wrought

by this motley fool sought after baying plaintively baal’s hymn

(der choral vom groben baal)

by men in white coats attired

as paparazzi equating lecher rocking cradling baby –

envisioning baby can dance

us content; misconstruing

sensitive uber up lyft ting preacher entrusting me - baby it can’t fall cooing baby grace (a horrid cassette)

a generic garden-variety homo sapiens doting with radiance

as baby loves that way

special to self n family

as a funny sunny teacher.

Credo i.e. to confront

fear of flying as netizen, pinging pacifying patty cakes,

which iz baby universal

pardon jeffersonian airplane droning

twittering like n angry bird shrieking that the referee backed a loser

echoing sagacious life lessons whey curd ballad of the adventurers

(die ballade von den abenteureren)

congeals shape shifting simian

with pliant plinth gird trebling melodic scaffold fueled band intro

shorn in various n sundry

couture hair re: styled swiftly tailored flying needles clattering with a bang bang

harried styled uniform

far from versace clothier - prices absurd holding wrongly incarcerated

behind bars of the county jail

boot issued from

rosy gun metallica sound heard describing the battle

for britain (the letter)

evanescence of beauty -

these words written by aging nerd hoping for thee to be my wife

from mine kempf noggin

each n every nine inch nail size word.

HEAVENLY STANZA INTERRUPTION ONE

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rudshores-blog · 8 years

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the place i want to work wants a resume AND cover letter and i hate cv’s so much i’m dying ?

#post #eggemoji #just found my resume and its so friggen outdated #im dying scoob #like my referees are old school teachers #idk if i should keep them as that tbh bc like they probably dont remember me #i graduated in 2015 so #idk if i want to get a referee from maccas cause theyre a bunch of assholes #& havent given me any shifts since late october lol! :^)#i also have to quit and im anxious just thinking about it aghhh #but the place i wanna work is an art store so i think i'll enjoy it since yknow i love art #i hope i get an interview tho asdffg

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

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Honesty & A Sweet Moment

I know that I’ve been open about my relationship with my father. It’s not a good one, and I’m old enough to know that right now. I love him. He loves me. But to be totally cliche, love shouldn’t hurt. All of my immediate family, we are smart and successful. The only people in our full family, who, as a unit, have gone to college. I’m talking even the damned dogs had degrees.

I had to parent my siblings. More than normal. I’m the oldest.

But the way he spoke to me, to my mother, to even my siblings, as a woman, I realize it’s not okay. I’ve been slapped, choked, beaten, thrown - yes, thrown. Over the most basic shit. I’m talking about getting out late from school at eighteen, after letting him know because a fire alarm was going off and we couldn’t go back into the building until they could shut it off. He said he understood, because my school was thirty minutes away. My sibs and I went to different high schools. Three different high schools.

I went to help a teacher when we were finally allowed back inside. My Dad apparently waited outside for an hour and then called me, and yelled, and screamed. He told me that I had better get outside NOW! He had a Blackberry. I had a Motorola. With the antenna.

I told the school psychologist that “tonight was gonna be rough.”

“I’ve been through a hundred emails!” He’s a CEO. Retired now, but it doesn’t matter.

“Dad, you could’ve called me.” You had a cellphone.

“I’m the parent, you are the child.” And then he punched me dead in my chest. He’s a big man.

We argued the whole way home. And then I told him that we did not have a good relationship. And he told me, “well that breaks my heart to hear you say that.”

After you just struck me. Nah, bruh. Wasn’t the first time. Wasn’t the last. At the end of the day, my father is a woman beater. I don’t care how successful he his. Love, in any form, shouldn’t look like that. I’ve never raised my hand to him, but if he ever tries it again, I will. You don’t hit me. And you don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I’ve had the reading level of a freshman in college since I was eight! They tested me!

It’s not a brag. It’s just the truth. It is a gift I was granted. I'm blessed. That's all. A lot of folks on here are amazing. I'm not special.

This rant is going to develop into something sweet now. I know what my father is, I’ve accepted it. My mother looked away. It’s part of why I write the way I write. I’m going to share my favorite memory of my Dad. Sounds weird, I know…but most folks who have Dads…you have feelings.

I was sixteen. I played both Rec and Club soccer. I was scouted, along with a friend, after we lost to State. That last game had been hard, we’d been so close to the championship. And then your goalie got hurt. I'd even ran at the girl who’d done it. Stopping myself, just short of slapping her. The rage was real.

I don’t remember what I said to her, but they were some choice words. Nobody hurt one of your teammates.

But it was while you were playing a club game. Now let’s be honest. Girls are mean. So I talked trash. I’m small, everyone is bigger than me. But I let them know what’s up. I was a team enforcer. Like BiB. I once showed up late to a game and my teammates pointed out everyone I needed to hurt. And I was on it. But here’s the thing, I’m nice. As long as we’re not out on the field.

I always tried to play a clean, good game. But at this point, I’ve been slapped in the back, tripped (aggressively), thrown. I remember a time where the girl grabbed my jersey and said “I got her, now go!” I looked the Referee in his optic stems and yelled “you don’t see this?!”

Here is the happy memory.

Like I said, I was sixteen. We were playing this team that we were absolutely obliturating. It didn’t always happen, but your team had a pretty good record. This other team wasn’t very good.

The score was 17 to 0. It was so bad that my coaches, male coaches, ordered you all to stop scoring unless you did a trick. Which was a kind thing.

“The next person who scores needs to do a handstand!” Rick had yelled. “Or I will pull you out!”

In my role as left half-back, and the occasional left-center half-back, it was my job to defend and I did it. I’d been doing it for more than a decade. Get some.

But see, when we were playing that team that lost so bad…

There was a girl who kept kicking me in my calf…where the shin guard doesn’t protect. She yanked my hair, grabbed my jersey.

My team was nice. We loved each other. Which meant our coaches had to teach us how to protect ourselves. Like, literally.

So, they’d taught us how to elbow. When the Ref wasn’t looking. I always used my ass and my hips when running against someone - everyone got bigger faster than me! So I had to box them out. Just like in basketball

So that girl who kept picking with me, kept hurting me…

I waited until the official wasn’t looking and elbowed her straight in her gut. And then jogged away like “I don’t know what happened to her. She just fell”.

Of course, the Refs called it and then I hear the opposing coach yell. I almost earned a yellow card.

“I saw you, number seventeen. I saw you!” I threw up my hands. I ain’t do nothing.

One of your coaches, Hank, yells back at the other man. “Hey! You do not speak to her like that! She is a child! You want to have words, then there is her father.” He pointed to my Dad. He was standing up out of lawn chair, arms crossed, ready to fight.

I shouldn’t have hit her. But he was ready to throw. And I am conflicted. This was cathartic.

"Shut up when you talk to my daughter!"

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dantelionwishes · 3 years

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"Watanabe."

Sato spoke in a firm tone as he leaned against the wall behind him, arms crossed with difficult-to-read expression across his face. He was never a fan of lecturing his students like this, but it needed to be done every now and then. Kids were getting more and more stubborn nowadays, and he's not sure who to blame.

"We've discussed this in the past during our classes. Have you forgotten? Tell me." The teacher waited for an answer from the injured boy, his voice loud and clear with instruction.

A soft huff came from the boy. He felt like he was somehow dying and dead at the same time. Everything hurt. Everything felt terrible.

"... I was winning." He croaked. Whether that was really true or not didnt seem to matter. Maybe he fried his brain a little...

"You were winning in a losing battle with yourself, Watanabe." The teacher had raised his voice a little with urgency, "So many times. I've told you to never overuse your quirk like that." Even while wearing the mask it was clear how loud his voice was getting as he spoke, a growing exasperated appearance on his usually calm face.

"Do you understand the risks you physically take when you pull of stunts like these, Watanabe? Do you?"

....

He turned his head away from his teacher, grunting lightly. Hell, even that simple movement hurt like hell-- "Everyone's quirks b-.. Backfires somehow." Sniff. "... 's not my fault-... Not my fault mine sucks." If he had just gone a little further he could have knocked her out of the ring. Could have proceeded. Hell, he might have won the entire event!

A sigh.

He was crying. Sato took a deep breath to calm himself down and massaged the bridge of his nose.

"You're not listening to me, you can't even answer my question." His brain really was that close to getting melted, his student's basically delusional at this point. He can't think of anything else. Sato really is grateful to have a co-teacher like Lucca to act as referee. Their special class of unique students were a bit stubborn, almost comparable to the current third years when they were younger.

"I've told everyone in class to not overuse their quirk, not just you." The teacher leafed through Taishiro's medical papers, briefly going through the history of his quirk. "Do you understand where I'm going, Watanabe?" Based on the student's expression alone, he knew he wasn't listening.

Previous records of burns. Overuse. Overheating in summer. Some brief notes about malnutrition and possible neglect from a few years back-

"......"

Was he listening? Tired? Or did he fuck himself up and needed longer to think? Oh lord.. ".... Ss.." ow

".... Sato-sensei... I-- gh... You don't get it at all." sniffle. Ow existing is painful. "... I-i have to."

"You don't." His voice stayed unyielding, but kinder. "You don't have to, Watanabe."

Sato set the papers beside away, handing it to Recovery Girl who watched with a worried expression. "It's...a high school event," he approached, sitting at the foot of the bed where his student rested. "Watanabe. It's a sports festival. You are a sixteen years old teenage student who shouldn't be focusing on studies and making friends."

"...."

Sniff

".... You d.. you don't get it-" It felt like no one did "You just-- S-sometimes you just gotta deal with a little pain- UGH-" Yoshie look what you did you fucked up the kid- He squeezed his eyes(?) Closed. "T-... To get where you need to.."

"A little." He repeated, "A little pain." Sato felt a nerve pop at how Tai's words, but let it slide. Take a deep breath, you're past your prime, Osamu. It's his story, not yours. Don't make it about you. The kid needs this. He needs you right now.

The teacher pointed to his pitch-black hands, his injuries, his bandages, his current state of being. There was even a constant, soft whirring of a fan as his student recovered in bed. "You're going to get yourself killed before you can get where you need to, Taishiro. I can't let you do this."

His hands twitched. There was an attempt to ball his fists, but the pain didn't do any favours.. If he kept this up then he'd lose the functions in his hands entirely, if not the hands themselves.

"W-" An attempt to sit up. Very short lived though. "Y-you're not kicking me out of the tournament are you?!" Owie his throat. "You can't do that!"

"Stay still, Watanabe-kun!" Recovery Girl raised her voice from her seat, upset. "You shouldn't move around so much in your condition. You're going to stay here until you've stabilized." She crossed her arms. "Anything happens to you, and it's going to be on me!"

"You heard the boss," Sato turned back to his student, putting a sympathetic hand on Tai's blanketed knee. "Please, you need all the rest you can get. You need this more than anything else right now."

B- but that's not fair!!!" He shook a little. Pain? Anger? Who knows. "I was so close-- You can't do this to me, Sensei!!!" Oop tears ahoy

"Close to dying, if that was your goal." The teacher's expression was solemn, serious. This conversation was getting nowhere, and his student continued to be stubborn and in denial. He wished he could stay here for him, but he's got his job as a homeroom teacher cut out for him. He has other students to tend to, but this one...he might not be enough for Tai.

"I don't want you risking your life out there, against your own classmates. It's. A sports festival. You're supposed to be having fun out there." Sato pointed to the window, where the stadium could be seen from the clinic, "You enrolled here to become a hero, didn't you? What's the point if you don't make it to fighting villains? You won't be anywhere close if everything ends here."

"If I can't handle a sports festival how am i going to handle villains?!??" Angy.. "I-its not my fault I was matched with someone powerful!!"

"No hero gets to choose who they'll fight on the battle field. That's exactly what you're here in UA, Watanabe." Sato raked his fingers through his own locks, giving his student a meaningful glance. "To learn."

The usually tired teacher's eyes began to blaze with passion. "You're going to exactly learn how to, without endangering yourself. I've been teaching you how to, haven't I?" He didn't enroll into education for nothing, after all. "Or perhaps my classes really are that boring, hm?" Sato passed a joking glare towards Taishiro, recalling his grades and current standing.

".. I was winning" Huff "You should be happy about that... One of your students was doing good.. And now you're blocking him from winning"

He's not listening. Teenagers really are a different breed, huh?

The bed shifted from Sato's weight as he slowly moved towards the other student before gently, softly, enveloping Taishiro in the warmest hug he could give without adding pain to his injuries.

"You've done amazingly, well beyond my expectations...and now you need to rest. I'm so sorry I have to stop you here, when you're so close. I really am." Sato brings a hand behind Taishiro's head, carefully caressing his brightly coloured hair. He strokes the back of his head gently, speaking in a voice just as tender.

"I'm more than happy, Watanabe. Thank you for being a proud, strong student of Class 1-X."

He flinches a little from the pressure. Ow- Injury--

Whens the last time someone pet his hair like this? Not since he was tiny, probably. It was nice. Reminded him of snoozing on his dads lap on the way home from the park.

...

Sniff.

Sniff sniff-

The tears were already there, of course, but this just made it worse, thick black tears pouring from his eyes(?) Mann.. Even after all of that. After almost melting himself alive. After being so stubborn..

He was still just a teenager.

Hic-

He trembled, hiccuping as his lip trembled... And finally fully giving into his tears. Wailing onto his teacher. Sorry Sato your shirt is gonna get stained

It's not the first time Sato's shirt got stained with black tears. If anything, he's just happy to be there for his students in their time of need. He continues speaking what's on his mind, all the while hugging and comforting him via headpats.

"You kids are going to be the future. You guys are going to protect us when the time is right," voice low and soothing, he kept going. "So as your teacher, I can't have you risking your life as early as now. It would be my fault if something bad happened to you, it meant I didn't teach right."

He leaned back, breaking the hug. Even with the mask, Sato's smile was evident as his eyes crinkled with encouragement and pride towards Taishiro. "So with that, please continue being a good student, 'kay? Study well and become a great hero."

Hic hic hic--

Oh he's a mess. Aw man the bandages are gonna get stained too. :C

He kept shaking. Pained. Both emotionally and physically. God he was so tired-- "I-i'm trying!!"

"Trying a bit too hard, I'd say." Sato laughed softly, if not a bit cocky.

"You'll need some extra remedial classes if you want to be a good hero. And maybe some extra focus." Before he could say anything else, there was a knock at the door. Ah, right on time. Recovery Girl glanced as Sato put away his phone into his pocket, did he contact someone?

"Come right in, sir. The door's open."

Sniff...

He lifted his head. Another doctor maybe? Who would- ...

"Taishiro-!"

Oh lord-

Yoshie wastes no time. He's still in his pizza place uniform. Pizza smell. Pizza man.. He dashes over to grab and hold his son, of course causing the kid a little more pain but- Hey he could deal. Proabbly-

"D- Dad?!"

"Tai- Taishiro i saw everything--" He grabbed his son by the shoulders, face full of concern.

"How could you do that to yourself?! Do you know how dangerous that was?!?!"

"Dad...-"

"No! You can't-- Son. You can't keep doing this!!"

"I was winni-" "YOU WERE KILLING YOURSELF, TAI."

...

Tai is pulled in for a tight hug again, his father tearing up as he holds his son protectively, tai looking stunned for a moment.

"You can't do that-- Why would--" A sniff. From Yoshie this time. "..You're my only son, Tai! You can't do that to yourself!"

The father turned his head a little, looking at the teacher. ".. I-is it possible for me to take him home? Watch over his recovery?"

Sato hummed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well...it's a miracle the match ended before things for irreversible. It's another miracle that we've got such an amazing nurse on our side, too." He glances over to Recovery Girl for an opinion. "What do you say, Ma'am?"

"He's still a bit unstable, so we need to watch over him a bit more. He did too much work this festival, so..." The school nurse herself huffs, always with the tendency to scold those she heals up. "Learn to control yourself, young man! You're still a teenager, don't risk yourself at this age!" She raises her cane, gesturing to all the other students in the ward. "And that goes for all of you, too! Got that?!" A collective groan from the injured students follows, sounding like a "yes, ma'am."

The teacher decided to continue for her, "He should be okay to bring home by tomorrow." He placed a hand on Yoshie's shoulder, kind but firm. "Don't worry Watanabe-san, your son is in good hands."

"...."

A small nod, before he turns back to his son, cupping the students face.

"Tai.. I know it's not been easy. I know-.. I know i've not been the best father to you-" Two idiots be crying "... But this-..You can't do this. Not for my sake.." Looks like he saw the rin match. oop. "You have to do things for yourself. Make friends! ignore your work-- Hell, get another piercing- Just.. Don't give up your youth for me, Tai."

"D..."

All of this was for him.. All of this was.. All... "

... D-daaad-!!"And back to wailing he goes, his father chuckling a little through his own tears, holding him close. and letting his son cry it out. There was a lot of healing to be done, but at least this time he'd fight like hell to be around to help with it.

Sato watched as the two cried in each others arms, relieved that things turned out pretty well in the end. He excused himself from the clinic, waved goodbye to the nurse, father, and patient.

Now, then...

As soon as he closed the infirmary door behind him, Hikari, the redheaded girl from the other class was clutching her cellphone anxiously as she stuttered to find her voice. He wasn't well acquainted with her, but knew she did rather well in his class knowing that she received some sort of prior training from her pro hero relatives with that unfortunate quirk of hers. And she's the last of Class 1-Y standing...if anything, he's a bit worried considering Lucca's most anxious student is going to fight his scariest, angriest student.

"It's okay. He's doing well." He craned his neck as he looked up at the towering high schooler, "It's not your fault."

Taishiro didn't know Hikari's immunity to heat and fire. Trying to pull off a stunt like burning himself up in the inside to try and fry her only backfired completely. She couldn't do anything either, doing her damnedest to keep herself in the stage even if he kept rewounding time. Lucca must have noticed her student's distress in trying to get close to Taishiro to stop him. I really have to treat her to drinks sometime, it's tough being a teacher.

"S.....S-Sensei...."

A broken whimper stopped his trail of thought.

"Ah, sorry. You want me to escort you back to the stadium? Don't worry, I know Fuwa is scary and all, but--"

"........it's not th-that...."

Sato raised a brow and observed her movements. She's always trembling, but...she's shaking pretty badly. The student looks like she just finished crying, puffy eyes, nose and all. She clutched her phone close to her body before opening her mouth again. Hikari recalled the conversation she had on the phone and mustered up all the courage she had.

"I...I need to go home."

#bnha oc comeback #hikari kamino #Osamu Sato sensei #bnha oc #drabble #others ocs

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thetriggeredhappy · 3 years

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👉👈 hey so I rlly love your characterisation of sniper and I was wondering if you could write about something from his childhood? Thank you!

sniper as a kid is like hilarious to me because i think he really was some sweet and clever little shy dorky kid who always like stole and wore his dad’s hat and then one day one of his like classmates from high school asks his mum like “hey so what does he do these days” assuming it’s just a ton of weed and she goes “oh he kills people”

(warnings for passing implications of bullying)

The gaggle of children stood in a three-person semi-circle, staring up into the tree. Up, high above their heads, crushed helplessly into the branches and leaves, was a large, faded blue ball, quite firmly planted in place. Silence reigned, all of them looking at the rubber ball, sat resolutely much higher than any seven-year-old could feasibly reach, even with a particularly big stick.

“Nice one, Bruce,” murmured one little girl, and was elbowed.

“Well what are we going to do now?” another girl demanded, hands on her hips, glaring around at the other two of them from under her hat. “We can’t play without a ball.”

“Um,” the boy said, squinting up into the tree. “We should get it down.”

“We can’t just get it down, Bruce,” the girl said, deeply exasperated in a distinctly seven-year-old manner.

“We can’t just leave it there, Millie,” Bruce said right back.

“Well how are we going to get it down?” Millie demanded. “We haven’t got a ladder. And Katie’s parents aren’t home yet.”

“We could wait until tomorrow when we come to school,” Katie suggested, and both Bruce and Millie groaned. “It’d only be until tomorrow!”

“I’m not waiting until tomorrow!” Bruce declared. “We can get it down.”

“How?” Katie asked.

“I can get it down.”

All three children turned to look, and two frowned the moment they saw the boy standing there.

“Oh, ‘llo, Mickey,” greeted the third, Katie, waving at him.

“Hullo,” he greeted back quietly, hands still firmly tucked into his pockets, chin still firmly tucked down into the collar of his too-big vest, eyes tucked away under the brim of his hat.

“What are you gonna do?” Bruce challenged.

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Millie echoed. “You can’t reach that high either!”

Mickey shrugged his shoulders, drew a hand from his pockets just long enough to itch at the back his his neck, to tug on his hat, to push up his glasses. “Thought I could try to help, at least,” he mumbled. “I really can get it down if you’d like.”

“As if!” Millie said, voice tinted high in disbelief.

“I can do it myself!” Bruce announced with much more confidence than he had before. He rolled his shoulders, took three big steps towards the tree, and grabbed on with both hands. “Look, watch this!”

All the other children watched as Bruce, with absolute conviction, started pulling and shoving at the tree.

After a long few moments of watching the spectacle, Millie spoke up. “What exactly are you doing?” she asked politely.

“Shaking the ball down!” Bruce announced, and got right back to it. And in his defense, the tree did sway the smallest amount, but it wasn’t nearly enough to shake the ball free.

“Bruce, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Katie chimed in gently.

“I’ve almost got it!” Bruce insisted, entirely incorrectly.

“I’ll help!” Millie announced, and hurried over to the opposite side of the tree, also straining to push and pull and shove and tug on the tree, and it did help significantly, the entire tree starting to shake and sway. Still, it was entirely obvious that it wasn’t going to do anything anytime soon, the ball staying largely unshifted from within the branches.

“Maybe we should let Mickey help,” Katie tried, and got a glare from the other two children, who then promptly ignored her.

The tree shook more violently. The ball remained unmoved. Katie grew more worried. The tree shook more violently. The ball remained unmoved. Katie grew more worried.  The tree shook more violently. One of the branches, having had enough, fell loose and hit Bruce directly on the top of the head.

“Ow!” Bruce hollered, stumbling back and whipping his head in every direction, trying to find the culprit, eyes finally landing on Mickey then falling narrow and angry. “What’d you do that for?!”

“It fell out of the tree,” Katie protested.

“Can I try now?” Mickey mumbled.

“No,” Millie said, entirely firm. “We don’t need your help anyways!”

“Yeah, what are you going to do, hit it with your stupid rocks?” Bruce taunted. “With your stupid slingshot?”

“I don’t have my slingshot,” Mickey murmured. “I’m not supposed to bring it to school anymore. The teacher said it’s not allowed.”

“Doesn’t even have a slingshot anymore!” Millie laughed. “What are you going to do now, then?”

Mickey scratched the back of his neck, tugged on his hat, nudged up his glasses. “Just throw them, I s’pose,” he shrugged.

“We’ll tell on you for throwing rocks at us!” Bruce threatened.

“Then I’ll tell on you for chasing me around and trying to hit me,” Mickey snapped. Bruce and Millie recoiled. He shoved his hands down deep into his pockets again. “I’m just trying to help get your ball down.”

“You think you could hit it down, tattletail?” Millie asked, incredulous.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Because you couldn’t hit it!” she scoffed next.

Mickey paused for a moment before he bent to pick up a pebble. He rolled it in his palm for a minute before taking it between his thumb and forefinger, rearing back, and throwing it.

All eyes turned up into the tree. The pebble tonk’d harmlessly against the ball in the tree and landed down by Bruce’s feet.

“You didn’t even hit it down!” Bruce exclaimed.

“I wasn’t saying I could hit it d—“

“That was a little pebble! That’s stupid!” Bruce declared, and looked around, moving over to a rock embedded in the ground and starting to haul it out of the dirt. “You need a big rock like this one!”

“That’s not going to work,” Mickey said.

“Thanks for trying, Mick,” Katie assured quietly.

“I wasn’t trying to knock it down, I was just going to—“

“Watch this!” Bruce declared, managing to heft the rock into his arms despite it being visibly difficult. “This is how you knock a ball out of a tree!”

“Show him, Bruce!” Millie agreed, just as confident.

“You’re just going to hurt yourself,” Mickey said, a little more firmly now.

“Am not!” Bruce said, and reared back, swung forward, swung back once more, and used the momentum to launch the rock as hard as he could muster.

It thunked against the trunk of the tree hard before flopping back down the two feet to the ground, shaking the thing profusely. Another branch tumbled down, landing soundly on the top of his head.

“Ow!” Bruce yelped, and turned to glare at him again, angry. “That one had to be you!”

“Branch, again,” Katie replied.

“I’m just going to get the ball down,” Mickey said, a little annoyed.

“Don’t you dare!” Millie said, and turned to the other two. “Right. So we need a rock big enough to knock it down, but small enough to throw.”

“Maybe we don’t throw any more rocks,” Katie said. “Maybe we wait for my mum to get home and I can go get a ladder.”

“That will take ages!” Bruce complained. “I don’t want to wait that long!”

“We can play other games. We can jump rope, maybe—“

“You two never let me jump!” Bruce whined. “I never get a turn!”

“Yes you do, but you’re awful at it,” Millie replied. “But if you’re going to complain, then no jumping rope.”

“I just want to get the ball down!” Bruce said.

“Well we can’t, so we have to either wait or do something else,” Millie said. “Want to run a race?”

“I hate running races,” Katie huffed. “You two never want to race me.”

“You’re a really good referee! And you’re really really slow!” Bruce replied.

“Maybe we should just go home,” Millie said, arms crossed again. “Since we can’t do anything fun if you two are just going to whine.”

“Oi.”

All three looked up towards the source of the voice, and Bruce squawked in indignation as a rubber ball beaned him right in the forehead.

“That time, it was me,” Mickey said from his place up in the tree.

“How’d you get up there?” Katie asked, eyes wide.

“Climbed.”

“But how?” she insisted.

“Branches, mostly. Anyways. There’s your ball,” Mickey said, swinging his legs slightly.

“Oh, you—!” Bruce grumbled, trying to throw the ball back at Mickey. Mickey just followed the ball’s path with the turn of his head as it instead hit a branch a good two meters away and fell back down.

“Climbing trees again, didn’t your dad already tell you off for that?” Millie taunted.

“Here I thought you didn’t like tattletails,” Mickey said right back.

“Maybe we should call you Koala Mundy,” Bruce teased, picking the ball back up again, face red. “Sitting up in trees. Having those dumb pointy teeth.”

“Koalas don’t have pointy teeth. They’re herbivores,” Mickey pointed out. “And I like koalas, besides.”

“Well, maybe we should just leave you stuck up there!” Millie said.

“I can get down just fine,” he shrugged, nudged up his glasses.

“Well—well, we don’t need you anyways!” she said, and turned on heel and stomped off and away. Bruce made a vaguely affirmative noise, following after. “And you don’t get to play with us just because you got down our ball!”

“Awright,” he mumbled, watching them leave.

“Thanks for getting the ball down! Bye, Mickey!” Katie was kind enough to call before hurrying back away.

“Bye, Katie.” A pause. “Oh! Katie!”

“Yeah?” she asked, turning back around to look at him.

“Er. My mum said to tell your mum. One of the herding dogs had her puppies. Wanted to know if you were all still looking for more. They’re koolies. Er. They’re... they’re really good dogs and we can’t keep them all and my mum said your mum is really nice so to ask her before we just sell them.”

“Okay! Thanks Mickey!” she called, and waved again, and hurried off.

“Okay. Bye,” he mumbled, and looked towards the ground below to start figuring out how exactly he was meant to get back down again.

#shut up me #tf2 #team fortress 2 #everybody talks #my fanfiction #que?#we stan a tiny king

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rosiegeee · 3 years

Text

Final Chapters of my Harry Potter Re-Write Are Out

Special thanks for chapter 15 to my brother who helped me write the chess scene. Anyway here are some passages from all three chapters:

Chapter 15: Through the Trapdoor

Harry took a deep breath, although Professor McGonagall was the head of Gryffindor, Harry had learned her to be fair, strict, but fair. He decided the only way to get through to her was to tell as much of the truth as possible.

'We know about the Philosopher's Stone, and we have come across a plot to steal it, we need to warn Dumbledore.'

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms but she didn't pick them up.

'How do you know-?' she spluttered.

'There is no time for that, we know that who wants to steal it knows how to get by at least two of the charms below the trap door, and we know they know know how to get by Fluffy the dog, and that they have just been waiting for Dumbledore to get out of the way. Professor, I think the owl was a fake, I think the thief plans on stealing the Stone today or tonight.'

She eyed him with complete shock, but she seemed to believe him.

'Harry, you have got to tell me how you know all this, then I can know how to help.'

This was a road block however, he couldn't mention how he knew about the stone as that would almost certainly lose Hagrid his job and despite his biases Harry liked Hagrid, he also couldn't mention that it is Snape as she would assume he was just angry at his head of house, and he couldn't say Voldemort as she wouldn't believe him. Harry hung his head low.

'I-I, it's one of the teachers, that is all I can say.'

'Who Harry?'

Chapter 16: The Man With Two Faces

Harry couldn’t take it in. It couldn’t be true. Sirius had said he knew Quirrell in school, and unlike when he mentioned Snape or his family he talked about Quirrell with no animosity.

‘But Snape tried to kill me!’

‘No, no, no. I tried to kill you. When your friend Miss Davis cast that Titillando jink on Snape he ended up knocking me over, which I think he did on purpose. It broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I’d have gotten you flung off your broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn’t been muttering a counter-cure, trying to save you.’

‘Snape was trying to save me?’

‘Of course,’ said Quirrell coolly. ‘Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn’t do it again. Funny really...he needn’t have bothered. I couldn’t do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Ravenclaw winning, he did make himself unpopular...and what a waste of time, when after all that, I’m going to kill you tonight.’

Chapter 17: All's Well That Ends Well

‘HARRY!’

The three of them dashed to his side. Tracey gave him a hug which despite appreciating, still hurt his sore body.

‘Harry you did it, but we were so scared.’

‘You and Allison were unconscious for so long.’

‘But now the entire school is talking about what you did on Friday,’ said Allison. ‘But every tale sounds different, Theo filled me in on what happened after I was knocked out, but what happened once you went through the fire.’

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumours. Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the Mirror; the Stone and Voldemort. The trio were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places and, when Harry told them what was under Quirrell’s turban, Theodore let out a fearful squeal.

‘So the Stone has been destroyed?’ said Tracey finally. ‘That means Flamel will die?’

‘That’s what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that-what was it?-“to the well-organised mind, death is But the next great adventure”.’

Suddenly Allison started laughing, ‘The old man has lost it, good for him.’ And they all had a chuckle.

‘So what happened to you three?’ asked Harry.

‘Well, once Theodore emerged I ran back to the key room and got the brooms like you said, and the two of us were carefully bring Allison back when Dumbledore came flying in.’

‘He just looked at us and said, “Harry’s gone after him, hasn’t he?” and sped by us. Anyway we managed to get Snape’s attention, that was a surprise, and he helped bring McGonagall and Allison to Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall woke up not long after dawn, and Allison finally came to that afternoon.’

‘I still got the bump to show what I did.’

They continued talking and catching up, Harry just felt better being with his friends. Tracey finally broke the knees about the house cup.

‘We’re in last place, Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor in Quidditch, not enough to take away the quidditch championship from us, but enough to pull ahead in the school points system.’

Keep reading chapter 15 here or here, 16 here or here, and 17 here or here

Art under the cut

Here is all the art done for the book, the art is by @noktoraspali and @letraspal respectively.

Drawing of Allison Runcorn and her cat Shabaz

Drawing to celebrate Canini coming out, I love Canini so much and I hope to write about her more in the future.

And This is Harry coming home for Easter break, it is so sweet and I love all three of these drawings so much. You two are amazing artists.

#Harry Potter #wolfstar #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #hogwarts #slytherin #runcorn #terence higgs #theodore nott #tracey davis #trans #trans rights #fuck jk rowling #snape #severus snape #Quirinus Quirrell #voldemort #mtf

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iliumheightnights · 4 years

Text

Let Me Make You Proud [2] | Tony Stark x Son!Reader

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Tony Stark & Son!Reader

Part 1

Summary: After leaving his old life behind, (M/N) Stark carves out his new life. He thinks about all of the memories he left behind and makes his own new family. However sometimes destiny intervenes.

A nine year old (M/N) Stark stood behind a curtain looking out into the audience. It was his first big concert and he was excited for a Solo he had.The chair reserved for his father was empty. He scanned the audience for his father, he promised he would come to this one. (M/N) had been so excited when his father told him he would be there. As he reached the back of the crowd he realized his father wasn’t there...yet. He could just be running late.

The teacher called for all the students to get into position and (M/N) hesitantly got to his spot. The curtain drew back and the kids started their concert. He couldn’t help but frown a little at all of the parents and guardians there, supporting their kids. He looked over at the chair again hoping to see his father, but it was still empty.

The concert was going swimmingly. The other students were having a great time, (M/N) on the other hand wasn’t. It was getting closer and closer to his solo and his dad still wasn’t there. Eventually the time had arrived, he walked to the front of the stage and began his solo. Looking into the audience his heart fell as his eyes found the empty chair. The eyes of all the other parents were like daggers staring into him. He could feel tears building up in his eyes, and he began to shake. The ending couldn’t come soon enough.

The concert had come to an end. (M/N) sat on the edge of the stage watching kid after kid leave with their parents. “(M/N) are you alright?” Looking he saw his teacher sitting next to him. (M/N) only nodded and looked at the seat with his father’s name on it. She followed his line of sight and immediately understood. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry (M/N). I know you were really excited for him to see you perform. I don’t know if it means anything but I thought you did splendid.” He smiled at her. “Thank you Miss.” The two stayed on the stage for half an hour with most students already leaving. Yet no one had come to get him yet and his teacher’s face had become one of worry and frustration. “(M/N) I’m going to call your parent’s and make sure everything is alright okay?” She stood up and walked away a bit before calling.

(M/N) could tell by her voice that she was frustrated but not at him. She never got mad at him, always his dad. After a bit she hung up with a huff and walked back over to him with a smile on her face, he knew it was a front. She sat back on the stage next to him “So I called and Happy should be here soon for you.” Of course he would. The teacher tried to pass the time with him talking about the concert and how well he and everyone did and that she would love to have him perform a solo again.

After another fifteen minutes, Happy finally arrived. He walked in with a smile on his face as he approached the two. “Ready to go kid?” (M/N) didn’t say anything as he jumped off the stage and started to walk to the car. “Hey what’s wrong kid? Not happy to see me?” (M/N) could already hear the teacher start her rant to him and knew he shouldn’t be there to hear it. He stepped outside and got into the car. He didn’t have to wait long before Happy got into the driver’s seat and began to drive them home. “I heard you did really good in the concert.” (M/N) wasn’t in the mood to talk, he watched the city lights fly by outside his window. “I’m sorry buddy. I forgot and your dad got really busy.” The boy didn’t move, only kept watching out the window.

Once they arrived back at the tower (M/N) slowly made his way back in. His big night had been ruined. This wasn’t the first time his dad did something like this, but it still hurt. Wanting to see his dad he took the elevator to the lab. He could see his dad through the glass, he was slunched over his table, asleep. He took note of all the blueprints and machine parts surrounding his dad. It was in that moment that he realized his dad loved working more than him, and if he wanted his dad’s love he’d have to change. That was the moment he stopped being (M/N) Stark.

…

(M/N) was snapped out of his thoughts by a tugging at his pants. Looking down he saw PRYSM looking up at him. “What are you doing?” Ah PRYSM, so pure, so innocent. “I was just thinking.” He looked back up at the school across the street. The same one he went to in what seemed like a lifetime ago. “OOOOOHHHHH. What are you thinking about?” (M/N) motioned for PRYSM to follow him and started walking again. “Just thinking about my past.”

It had been roughly two years since he had left the tower and the avengers behind. He missed them, he missed Clint and Wanda. He even missed his dad. When he had first left the tower Tony had freaked and tried everything to find him. He flew around the city in his suit, so did Rhodey. He heard people say they saw spiderman looking as well but he wasn’t so certain about that. Then his dad made a television appearance begging him to come home and that he was sorry. The comments from people after that made him furious. He probably just wants attention. I’d leave too if he was my dad. That boy probably had too much on his shoulders. People blamed both him and his father. The last thing that his dad did was offer a cash reward for anyone who brought him back home. That caused him tons of problems, he had to watch over his back even more. It was like he had a target on his back. Eventually his dad pulled that down and people didn’t care about him again. Like usual.

He hadn’t talked to Clint for a long time. They talked for a bit after (M/N) left, he wanted to keep him involved. But as he started to travel the world and discover new things he started to drift away. They still kept in contact, talking every now and again but it was clear there was a rift. He hadn’t talked to Wanda, he wanted to but didn’t want to. He knew she was furious at him, he could feel it.

“So then I was like there is no way you could make that basket but then he did! It was crazy! I’m telling you (M/N) the kids basketball games get intense! You should come next time.” How could someone NOT love PRYSM. They just get excited over everything. The two continued to walk through the streets of New York, gaining attention from people seeing a robot just roll down the street. Eventually the two made their way to a warehouse which (M/N) converted into his current home. “You know I’m not really into going and watching sports P. I’d rather much go to the zoo.” He said while taking off his coat. The robot’s eyes widened. “We should TOTALLY go. I LOVE the zoo!”

“Did I hear zoo!?” (M/N) turned to see a person rush from the kitchen. “We going to the zoo? I’m so down!”

“Calm down Doreen. No one’s going to the zoo.”

“WHY NOT!?” Both Doreen and PRYSM shouted.

“What’s going on?” All three turned to look at the new person entering the building.

“Thank god. Kamala please tell them we aren’t going to the zoo.” (M/N) tried beginning with her.

“Why not? I love the zoo.”

“Ha! That’s Three against one. We’re going to the zoo. Everyone get your shit!”

(M/N) couldn’t fight against it. He was outmanned and outgunned. To be fair...he also wanted to go to the zoo. That’s how he found himself with his friends making their way to the zoo. Walking through Central Park this time of year was always nice. He looked over at Doreen and Kamala. He remembered the first time he met them. They were trying to ‘rescue’ him, since they saw his dad’s tv appearance and thought he was missing. It was hilarious Miss Marvel and Squirrel Girl, the heroes he never knew he needed. After explaining everything he remembered Doreen directly stating “We’re your family now.” and they’ve been friends ever since. He was lucky to have them.

“That’s it. I need some tunes, PRYSM can you play something? Please?” Doreen basically shouted and Tippy-Toe nodded in approval. Damn he loved that squirrel. “I sure can!” PRYSM started to playing music and Kamala and Doreen both shouted in excitement and started walking to the beat.

“I be Spike'd out, I could trip a referee” Doreen sang followed by Kamala singing. “Tell by my attitude that I'm most definitely from-”

“Hit it (M/N)!” Doreen shouted at him.

He couldn’t help the wide smile that came to his face as he started to sing. “New york! Concrete jungle where dreams are made of. There’s nothing you can’t do!” Doreen and Kamala joined in with him. “Now you’re in New York! These streets will make you feel brand new!” They started to dance as they made their way down the path. People watching them go, some laughing, some recording, but they didn’t care. In that moment it was just them having one hell of a time. (M/N) had started to sing again around his friends, he started being himself again. Away from his father’s shadow he began to bloom.

…

Back in the tower, Tony sat on (M/N)’s bed. The room hadn’t really been touched in the two years his son had been gone. Dust had started to gather on many of the picture frames and collectibles. It was a constant reminder of how much a failure of a father he was. He realized just how distant and cold he had been. Pepper, Rhodey and Happy found him many times asleep on that bed with red and puffy eyes.

He held one of (M/N)’s sketch books in his hands. Opening the book he started to flip through the sketches. The book had started out with character and designs for stories he had been thinking of. But as Tony continued to flip through the book it became less and less creative designs and more blueprints for machines and inventions. Tony hated this, he hated that he made his kid give up the things he loved to do just so he could feel loved by his own dad.

He could feel tears streaming down his face as his hands started to shake. It had been two years and he missed his son so much. He just wanted to hold him again, to try and fix things. Tony’s relationship with Peter was...Strained. He couldn’t look at Peter without feeling guilt and regret. Peter tried his best to make him feel better but it didn’t help. Not until (M/N) was back.

“He always did love to draw.” Tony looked up at the voice. Clint stood in the doorway looking at him. “He wouldn’t want you to waste away in this room ya know?” He looked back down at the sketch book, running his hands over the creative designs. “I just- I don’t know what to do. I want to talk to him. I want to apologize. I miss him so much. He’s been out there for two years, I have no idea where he is or if he’s okay and it keeps me up at night.” Clint gave him a sympathetic smile before walking into the room and over to the glass windows looking out into the city. “He’s okay. He’s a lot stronger than you think he is.” Tony could only nod at that, he might not have had a good relationship with his son but Clint did. If he says he’ll be okay, he’s okay. “Still I just wish I knew where he was.” Clint didn’t look back at Tony and debated on saying anything. “The last time I talked with him he was in London.” Tony’s head snapped up and Clint could feel his eyes burning into the back of his skull. “You talked to him? When? Why didn’t you tell me?” Tony stood up and made his way to Clint who turned to face him directly. “Yes, I have. Last time I talked with him was four months ago, he said something about coming back to New York. And I didn’t tell you because he wanted his space. He didn’t want you coming after him.” Tony couldn’t decide if he was happy his son could be back in New York or angry that Clint didn’t tell him about him.

“Do you think he’s ba-” Before the two could continue their conversation Steve bursted into the room. “Get your gear. We have a problem.”

…

The seal enclosure always was (M/N)’s favorite part of the zoo. Doreen and PRYSM practically ran away once they entered the zoo. He and Kamala sat down on a bench looking directly at the seals. He could feel Kamala looking at him. “What is it?” He turned to look at her,she looked like she was hesitating to say anything. “I was just wondering. You’ve been back in New York for months now. So why haven’t you tried talking with your dad again? He obviously wants to see you again. He wouldn’t have made that tv appearance if he hadn’t.”

“I still can’t believe he plays that even after two years.”

“It’s because he means it (M/N). I think-”

The two were interrupted as a figure was thrown through the air and crashed into the seal enclosure. (M/N) recognized who it was immediately. “Peter?” People started running out of the zoo in a panic. Through the crowd he saw them, the avengers. They were pushing past people towards Peter. “What’s going on!” he saw Doreen and PRYSM run towards them. “We don’t know!” Kamala started to say before a ship was above the zoo. A blue woman with a staff on top. (M/N) knew who it was. “Hala.”

“Who!” Yelled the other three.

“She’s a kree who tried kidnapping metahumans years ago. Guess she’s back for round two.”

(M/N) then heard a sound he hadn’t heard in years. He would know the sound of the repulsors anywhere. He looked up and watched as his dad flew over his head, firing on Hala’s ship. It couldn’t breach it’s shield’s however. Hala pointed her spear and fired a laser cutting through anything it touched. The avengers scrambled out of the way.

“OH. MY. GOSH! Guys this is our time! We gotta help them!” Doreen shouted.

“Absolutely” Kamala agreed. “What about you (M/N)?”

He watched as Hala fired on the avengers. His family. No one fucked with his family. “Damn right I am.”

“I...I’m just gonna...be over here.” PRSYM rolled out of sight faster than ever.

“Oh this is gonna be so fucking awesome!” Doreen shouted.

The three broke up and went in different directions. Hoping they could perhaps distract her enough. (M/N) let his powers engulf his body in a flash, putting him in the suit he made in case things like this happened. He had used his powers here and there but didn’t rely on them. Hala fired again making some rubble fall, Steve pushed Clint out of the way but before they could stand back up she pointed at them and fired. (M/N) quickly jumped in front of them and put up a barrier blocking them from the ray. “(M/N)?” he looked back and smiled at the men who looked both relieved and shocked that he was standing there with them. “Hey Clint,Steve. Long time no see.” (M/N) turned back to the barrier, pulled back his arms and pushed sending the ray back at Hala, causing an explosion. “Get her staff!”

While the avengers were shocked he was there, they knew it wasn’t the time for a reunion. Everyone sprang into action, each trying to reach Hala. Having to doge moving lazer fire wasn’t as easy as they made it look on tv. Kamala and Doreen got close before they were through back by Hala. Tony,Rhodey and Sam tried getting her from the sky but she wasn’t making it easy.

When (M/N) saw his chance he took it. He used his powers to launch himself into the air. He had almost reached her when she turned around and fired her staff directly at him. He formed a barrier blocking the brunt of the attack, however trying to fly and block was a lot for someone who wasn’t trained. He couldn’t hold it any longer and his barrier exploded pushing him to the ground. Before he could hit the ground he felt strong arms surround him. Looking up he was greeted by piercing the white eyes of the spiderman mask. “(M/N)! Are you alright!” (M/N) let out a laugh and patted the side of his face. “Never better spiderboy. Never better.” Peter sat him down on the ground “Look (M/N) I’m-” He held a hand up to Peter’s face. “Now is REALLY not a good time for this. Now get your ass in gear and get that staff!” Peter watched (M/N) run off. “Damn that was kind of hot.”

“I wonder how good Iron Man’s armor really is!” Hala fired her staff and hit Tony square in the chest. This caused his suit to power down and sent it falling to the ground. (M/N) watched in horror as the suit came falling down. “DAD!” Using his powers he rushed over and launched once more into the air, grabbing his father. “God you’re suit is so freaking heavy!” as the ground came closer, He brought his knees up and kicked them out using his powers to cushion their landing. (M/N) was out of breath and fell on top of his dad’s suit. “Can you hear me? You okay in there?” With the power off it was hard to hear but he heard it. “I’m alright. I’m glad to see you kid.” (M/N) couldn’t help the smile. “Glad to be back.”

“ENOUGH!” (M/N) turned to see Hala bring her staff up. “I SHALL HAVE MY ARMY!” She brought her staff down and the portals began to open up around all the avengers. He watched as one after another was sucked up. “(M/N)!” He watched Kamala and Doreen get sucked up too. “Oh. Can’t forget the father and son!” He could feel tears building up, he lost his friends. Letting his anger out he created another barrier around his father and him. Hala’s portals couldn’t reach them. “So be it. I’ll be back. I’ll always come back.” With that Hala disappeared back into her ship before it took off into the atmosphere.

He brought down the barrier and stared up at the sky. He fell onto his hands and let out a scream. His cries echoed through the ruined zoo. He felt a strong grip on his shoulder, He looked up into the face of his dad. “(M/N)...” The two looked at each other for a bit before (M/N) fell into Tony’s arms. Hugging him. “I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t save them.”

Tony pulled back and stood up, bringing (M/N) up with him. He shook his head. “This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. If you weren’t here I probably would have been taken too. We’ll find them.” (M/N)’s face became serious before he nodded his head. “We’re gonna find them. And we’re gonna get them back. And we’re gonna kick some ass.” Tony smiled at his son. His son was right in front of him and he had grown so much.

“Yes we will!” Both men looked down and saw PRYSM looking up at them. “Hi Mr.Stark it’s nice to see you again.”

Tony let out a laugh before becoming serious. “How are we going to find them. And we’ll need more help.”

(M/N) smirked and held up his phone. “I got close enough to throw a tracker on her ship. I got their location right here. As for the help...I know a person.”

Twenty minutes later the three of them stood outside a garage door. (M/N) looked at his dad. “Before you say anything...I thought it was only fair I had one too.” He laughed at his dad’s face when it scrunched up into a confused look. Moving back to the garage He knocked once,paused and then knocked three times. “What exactly are we doing here?” Tony asked his son. “Getting help.” The garage opened and the three came face to face with a pink tipped blonde haired girl.

“Hey,Gwen. I need your help.”

A/N: Hope you guys liked part 2! I loved introducing some of my favorite marvel girls. As you can probably guess there will be a part 3 coming.

#marvel #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel x male reader #marvel x male!reader #tony stark #tony stark x male reader #tony stark x male!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x son!reader #tony stark x stark reader #tony stark x stark!reader #tony stark x son reader #x male reader #x male!reader #x reader #male!reader #male reader insert

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oreosmama · 5 years

Text

Story Time (Ushijima x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: When you are assigned a partner project with the intimidating Ushiwaka, you start to realize he’s not all that scary, and maybe, just maybe you could teach him a thing or two about Happily Ever Afters.

Author’s Note: I’m just gonna say it now: Ushiwaka would be a big softie for his s/o. There, I said it. Anyways, he’s a lil OOC in this fic, but suck it up bc he’s adorable… well, at least to me, he is. Enjoy!

Word count: 3344

The rain drops on the window were having a race, and droplet number three was winning. You, the referee of this epic face off, sat in class quite boredly, barely comprehending the teacher’s droning on about a new project. You were going to have a partner and a syllabus, so there was no reason for you to listen that intensely. Your neck was sore from being held in it’s turned position for such a stretch of time, and so was the hand that held your chin, but you couldn’t care less. A tune popped into your head, and while humming slightly you began to bounce your knee to the beat as well.

“That song is super old, you know,” the redhead who sat beside you piped up, “try singing a newer one, like ‘Filter.’”

“Tendou, is there something you and YN would like to share with the class?” the teacher announced, giving your desk mate a pointed look.

“Sorry, miss, I was just suggesting YN change her radio station. The song she was on wasn’t really my style,” he teasingly remarked. A couple of students chuckled at the facial expressions the class clown and the teacher exchanged, but you were just glad the attention was once more off you. Finally, the teacher backed down and returned to the list she was reading aloud, and Tendou gave you a victorious smirk.

“’Serendipity’ is not that old,” you whispered to him while keeping your eyes on the front of the class.

The redhead raised his brow in return, opening his mouth to counter, “You know it's from three years ago, right. They’ve made plenty of new-”

“YN.” The teacher’s call instantly grabbed your attention, and you looked up at her in fear of a scolding. “You’ll be partners with Ushijima.” The statement startled you, until you remembered oh crap, there’s a new project. Dark green eyes found yours from across the room, and you blushed before glancing away. Your desk mate beside you had noticed, however, and let out a small hum with a devious smirk before moving to join his own partner.

Tendou’s intimidating teammate sauntered over to your desk, completely dismissing the lack of personal space and invading your precious bubble. He didn’t smile at you, but he never smiled, so that was to be expected. Ushijima was known as a terrifyingly strong, but equally handsome, man, and with that information, you received the same amount of pitying looks as you did jealous.

Ignoring the eyes on you, you watched in your peripheral vision as Ushijima pulled up a chair right next to your desk and crashed down into it. His lumbering body wasn’t as graceful as it seemed on television, and you couldn’t help but spiral into a mental rabbit hole at the thought of him, or more specifically, his volleyball team, and the games you had seen them play on local sports stations. There was always one player your eyes never strayed from, but to be fair, the platinum blond setter was highly attractive.

You were drawn from your thoughts by a throat clearing at your side. This time, the man’s spine-chilling presence was too close to bear, so you scooched your own seat away slightly, only to cringe at the loud screech it made against the floor. A look flashed in Ushijima’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly for you to identify, especially as you chuckled nervously at your own blunder. Finally, he gruffly spoke up. “I think we should read books to the local elementary school.”

Silence fell over you. Yep, that was definitely the last thing you expected to hear from the stone-faced ace. “W-we should what?” you asked incredulously.

“For our ‘Give Back to the Community’ project. I think we should read to elementary schoolers.” Oh, so that’s what the assignment was about. However, your fellow third year’s suggestion was just as jaw-dropping as when you first heard it. To make sure he was serious, you inspected his dark orbs, only to find they were just as indifferent as when he first approached you. Well, no point in arguing with him now, you thought, instantly adhering to his admittedly good plan. In any case, you already had a younger cousin who attended that school, and would love to see her again.

“I think that’s a great idea,” you declared while flashing him a small smile. “What kind of books were you thinking?”

~~~

Walking through the halls, you glanced back down at the note you had for Ushijima. It was a reminder he had wanted you to make for both of you, along with a time and place of when you would read at the elementary school. Last night you had contacted its principal and had gotten the go ahead for your project. Now where is that brute, you thought as you searched for his olive-brown hair. At first, you thought it would have been easy given his hulking form. But now, after trying to hunt him down for at least twenty minutes, you were starting to grow agitated.

“Hey YN, looking for someone?” A voice sounded behind you. Turning around at its familiarity, you expected to also see your partner, only to flush at the sight of your crush. Tendou smirked at your red face, but he also appeared disappointed. You didn’t notice a thing, though, as your eyes hadn’t strayed once from Semi. The blond looked at you almost unimpressed, and you subconsciously wondered if there was something on your face, or if your hair had been mussed up.

“Y-yeah, umm,” you cleared your throat at the stutter. “Have you seen Ushiwaka anywhere? I have our project time for him.”

Tendou smiled at something, or someone behind you, and kept his mouth shut when a deep, stiff voice spoke, “Hello YN.” Whipping around, you beamed victoriously at the sight. The action must have blinded the ace player, because he looked away directly after.

Shoving the note into Ushijima’s hands, you informed him, “We got the appointment on Friday at the elementary school closest to here. I already spoke with our teacher, and she gave us permission to miss school for it, thank God. It’s around lunch, so we’ll have to leave a little before that time.” Your eyes shined with pride at what you had already done for the project, and you talked almost excitedly. You had always wanted to work with children, so you adored Ushijima’s idea.

“Sounds great, I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, see you guys around.” Waving as you walked away, you turned back and held your cold hands to your cheeks. While you had only ever truly spoken to Semi once, it was still just as nerve-wracking to speak with him directly behind you.

As you left down the hall, you failed to notice the three pairs of eyes on you: one indifferent, one cocky, and one… abnormally bright.

~~~

Sitting in one of two main rocking chairs of the school’s library, you were even more nervous than usual when Ushijima approached you, arriving right on time while you had chosen to roll in twenty minutes ahead of schedule. The teachers you had talked to said they would release their students at 12:30 to the library, giving the pair of you thirty minutes to choose a story and hope it would keep their attention.

“Hey,” you greeted your project partner, observing as he took the seat next to you.

“Hello,” he responded bluntly, sitting uncomfortably stiff in his chair as it began to rock on its own. The conversation seemed to have hit a dead end; that is, until you remembered something.

“Oh, what fairy tale did you want to read to the kids?” you asked him, standing up and approaching the section of the library evidently labeled “Fables.” While waiting for his response, you chose to busy yourself by checking out the many options available on the shelves.

“Preferably a calm one. Maybe… without princesses?” For the first time in your whole life, Ushijima sounded unsure of himself, almost as if fairy tales were unknown territory to him.

You grew confused. “Well then, what’s your favorite one from when you were a kid?”

“I never really read fairy tales as a child. Though I do remember hearing about one that does pique my interest.” You stopped and stared at your partner in bewilderment at the first half of his statement, and a frown stole the place of your smile at the confession. Who’s never read fairy tales as a kid? What a sad childhood that must have been, you thought to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I’m so sorry, but fairy tales are great, you should read some when you have the chance! Some are a little more sinister than others if you read from certain authors, l-like Cinderella! In the original, the stepsisters like cut off parts of their own feet, but-,” you cut yourself off, surprised at your own word vomit. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.” Your jaw almost dropped when Ushijima, the Ushijima, brandished you a small hint of a smile, the corners of his lips slightly upturned.

“It’s okay, I like hearing about them. Maybe not those kinds of scenes but…” his deep voice trailed off and he gestured for you to continue. Quickly, you changed the subject and looked away to avoid making contact with his sharp, olive-colored orbs. You knew that if you had kept staring, a blush would’ve been inevitable.

“Umm, okay, that’s cool,” you mumbled out. “Anyways, you were saying one piqued your interest. Which one?”

His eyes seemed to glimmer at the mention of his evidently beguiling fable, and he announced, “‘Little Red Riding Hood.’ That’s the one that has always interested me. Although I hear there are many different versions of this one, so I fear I might not be thinking of the right story for the kids. What do you think?”

You shake your head and say, “No, no, no. That is a good one, but what happened in the version your thinking of that's got you so interested in it?”

“Well, in the one I’ve heard about, the wolf and Little Red Riding Hood-” Ushijima is cut off by the sudden chatter of young children entering the room. Eyes widening in surprise, you check the time, only to be confused when you realize that they are a few minutes early. A teacher stumbles over to Ushijima and hurriedly explains that the kids had finished their music class ahead of schedule, so the reading would need to start prematurely.

Hastily, you wrack your mind for the author’s name of the age-appropriate Little Red Riding Hood story and “Aha” victoriously as your eyes spot the book you were looking for. Retrieving it from the shelf, you strut over to your project partner with the slim picture book in hand, motioning for him to join you in front of the twenty-something group of elementary schoolers in your two given rocking chairs.

You give him a small, reassuring smile before you announce, “Hey kids, my name is YN YLN and this is Wakatoshi Ushijima and today we will be reading ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ to you guys!” Attempting to keep your voice cheerful, you are relieved when the children respond positively instead of groaning like you had expected. Spotting your little cousin in the front row of the class, you return her excited wave softly and accompany it with a large grin. Winking at Ushijima, you don’t have time to question your cheeky action before you hand him the book, allowing him to start reading his coveted fairy tale.

~~~

As more time passes, you start to realize Ushijima is growing more and more confused with his fable. After you close the book with the classic “Happy Ever After,” you throw him a confused smile as the class of children shout a loud, rambunctious “Thank you!” Before you can question him, however, your younger cousin approaches and gives you a large hug.

“N/N, that was so fun! I wish you would read to our class more! Can you please read to our class more?” Her voice began to transition from begging to whining, and you started to panic internally while wondering how to handle the situation. After all, you had only babysat her once before, and that night, you had done just about anything to get her to stop crying.

You were fearing the same result when, thankfully, her teacher came to the rescue, telling her that she needed to rejoin the class. Grumbling under her breath, your cousin gave you one last hug while glancing at Ushijima, who had been awkwardly watching the encounter from his chair. Looking away with fear, your cousin hesitantly whispered, “N/N, your boyfriend is scary.” Your cousin’s teacher was quick to usher her out of the library before you could explain that, no, the scary man was not your boyfriend, and please don’t tell the rest of the family as they will flip.

Sighing in exasperation, you whip around and give Ushijima a shy smile and laugh before saying, “Sorry about her, she just assumed, I’ll tell her later. If she doesn’t forget by then.”

Ushijima ignores your lame joke while responding, “That’s okay, I didn’t mind.” Hearing those words, you flush slightly and wonder if he meant it how it sounded.

Rapidly changing the subject, you asked him why he seemed so confused while reading the ‘Red Riding Hood’ fairy tale.

“Well,” he admitted, “In the one I’ve always heard about, the wolf and Little Red Riding Hood fall in love, and the wolf is actually just a kind werewolf who looks scary most of the time. And Little Red Riding Hood isn’t a little girl, but an adult just like him, who ignores his flaws….” Ushijima trails off and he looks away as he begins to blush as well. Your eyebrows raise softly at his unexpectedly sheepish admission, and you smile widely.

“You know, if you wanted a story like that, we could always read ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ That one’s pretty much on the track you’re looking for,” You tell him, grin not stopping for an instant.

“We?” he asks gently and you almost choke on the oxygen in your lungs.

“You! You! I meant you. You could always… read it on your own, not we.” You fail to miss the way the smug glimmer in his eyes falls, and you smirk while lightly suggesting, “Unless you do want us to read it?”

With that, Ushijima seems to gain his confidence back, only for it to drop once more when he mutters, “I couldn’t do that. We shouldn’t do that.”

Bewildered by his sudden change in attitude towards you, you quickly question, “Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“Because I’ve seen you around Semi, and I… I don’t want to ruin whatever you guys may have,” Ushijima admits, his hands subconsciously curling into fists. While watching this, your eyes widen in realization and you wonder to yourself, Am I really that obvious? Shaking away the thought, you quickly grab the man’s hand and unfurl it, holding it in both of yours while looking him in the eyes.

“I’ll admit, before today, I did like Semi, but for appearances only! I’ve never even talked to him. Well, only once, but that was because he helped me pick up my books when I dropped them, tripping over God knows what-,” you cut off your own rambling once again, and wonder to yourself why you do that so often, especially in his presence. “Either way, my crush on him is purely visual, if that’s what you want to call it. Now... well, I’m really hoping we get a chance to read ‘Beauty and the Beast’ together. Or at least watch the movie…?” you trail off suggestively, timidly awaiting his response.

Ushijima is silent for a moment, and you begin to lose your confidence, loosening your grip on his hand, but he quickly grasps both of yours once more in an instant.

“I’d like that. A lot.”

~~~

Glancing at the clock on the gym wall, you groan and look back to the court while whining, “Wakatoshi, come on. We’re gonna miss the movie.” You bounce up and down on your toes impatiently, watching your boyfriend once again spike the ball so hard into the floor on the other side of the court that it bounces up and lands in the stands. At least I don’t flinch at the sound anymore, you thought, watching Goshiki grumble under his breath before racing up the stairs to retrieve yet another volleyball.

“Sorry, babe, just one more I promise,” the ace replies distractedly.

“Babe, huh?” Tendou asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “You guys must be getting serious. Who’d have thought Mr. Scary, Blank-Face Man would get a girlfriend, and call her ‘babe’ nonetheless!” The redhead laughs to himself loudly and cheekily elbows Shirabu in the side, who responds by shooing his hands away in irritation.

Ignoring his teammate’s taunts, Ushijima tosses up the ball again to Semi, who sets it perfectly in place for his favorite spike. The ball hits the other half of the court so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t pop from the pressure. Following as it travels once more into the public seating on the second level of the gym, your amazed expression drops in exchange for amusement. Everyone witnesses as it rebounds back down onto the court as a result of the ball hitting a chair.

“Thank God,” Goshiki mutters, dropping the first ball he got into the basket and picking up the second one just as it rolled over to him. “I am so tired of this job,” he tells you, and you giggle at his worn out expression.

Noticing this, Ushijima jogs over to you and swiftly kisses your cheek, giving a pointed look to the first year before packing up his gear. You roll your eyes at his possessive action and decide to help the boys clean up while waiting for your boyfriend. Just as you reach for a stray volleyball, another hand plucks it away. You glance up and smile politely at Semi while jokingly claiming, “That one was mine, you know.”

The blonde third year blushes at your quip, chuckling slightly before replying, “Sorry, I didn’t know you claimed it. You still want it?” He teasingly holds it out to you, but the ball is stolen out of his grip by one stronger, larger hand.

Looking up slowly, Semi shivers at the glare he receives from Ushijima who smoothly throws the ball into the basket behind his teammate. “Actually, it was mine.”

Scoffing and smirking at your boyfriend’s jealous tone, you grab his now empty hand and say, “Don’t get all pissy, let’s just go before we miss the whole movie.” As the two of you walk through the gym doors, you look over to see Ushijima glaring back at his poor teammate, who keeps his wide, brown orbs locked on the ground to avoid the ace’s wrathful gaze. You roll your eyes once more before pulling his face toward yours. The intimate act successfully captures his attention, and you playfully whisper, “You’re really hot when you’re mad. I like it.”

Raising his brows, Ushijima’s deep voice teased, “Oh really? Well then maybe we should skip the movie altogether.”

You smile flirtatiously at him while biting your lip. “I like that idea. Maybe we could just talk all night long.”

“Sounds good, because I’m still confused as to why the little girl didn’t notice her grandmother was actually a wolf. Was she nearsighted?” You groan at his innocent change of the subject.

“Are you serious? I’ve told you a thousand times, she was just a little girl who didn’t notice for the sake of the story!”

“I would’ve noticed if my grandmother was a wolf.”

“I know, I know, ‘cause nothing flies past you, except for every single joke ever.”

“Impossible… jokes do not fly.”

Your whine of exasperation fades into the night as the two of you walk home to discuss fairy tales.

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seiin-translations · 4 years

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2.43 S1 Chapter 3.5 - The Dog’s View and the Giraffe’s View

5. READY FOR SUMMER

You think Aoki reads shonen manga?

This is the end of the first half of the first season, a.k.a the first tankobon volume. I’ll be going on a short hiatus for a few week before coming back.

Stan Odacchi!

Previous || Index || Next

Thrusting a CalorieMate bar into his mouth and holding a sports drink in his hand, when he rushed to the washroom near the gym, he suddenly ran into Aoki. Aoki took one look at Oda’s face and widened his eyes for a moment, then cautioned him with a disgusted look on his face.

“You should stop it with that…in my opinion.”

“Can’t be helped. I didn’t have the time to eat lunch or go to the washroom.”

The CalorieMate had sucked up his saliva and was sticking to his mouth. He put the box that still had some left and the bottle on top of the urinal and lined up next to Aoki.

Immediately after serving as an assistant referee on the courtside, he immediately jumped into his own team’s match, served as an assistant referee again on the same court as soon as it was over, plus he had to keep an eye on the progress of the entire boys’ volleyball division, support the participants and instruct the other members… Needless to say, he didn’t have time to take a lunch break, and he wasn’t allowed to go to the washroom since morning. Still, Oda only had to watch the gym, but Aoki was frequently pulled back by runners from the executive committee’s tent on top of that. This was the first time he was able to make time to talk to Aoki face to face.

It was finally the day of the Seiin Ballgame Festival. Luckily, the last few days were breaks in the rainy season, and the event was held on a day that didn’t interfere with outdoor events. In fact, the weather was so favorable that the temperature has reached July-like levels, and the executive committee has been repeatedly urging people to be careful about heat stroke.

Boys’ volleyball had managed finish four of their six group games without incident on the stage side of the gym. According to gossip, from the first group Team C, led by Aoki, had two wins, and from the second group Team F, led by Oda, had two wins, so it had already been decided that they would clash in the finals. The remaining two games would be elimination games that didn’t make it past the preliminaries, whether they win or lose, but since points were added depending on the points won, the overall winner was still unknown.

“It’d be interesting if we train Okuma to be a center.”

Aoki said next to him as he relieved himself. As ever, Aoki’s shoulder was at the corner of his vision.

“Okuma’s on the rugby team, isn’t he?”

“Well, it’s just an idea. If we had a burly guy like that, we’d look a bit stronger, right? Suemori-san said boys’ volleyball is soft.”

“It’s all about looks?”

“It’s important to look scary, you know?”

Well, when he puts it that way, it’s true that even though Aoki is the tallest guy in school, he’s more “long” than “big,” so he doesn’t look all that burly. He’s a center whose traits are height and dexterity. Okuma’s likely to be a different type of center than Aoki though…

“Well, enough about Okuma. I want Haijima more.”

“You’re pretty fixated on Haijima.”

“What kind of guy wouldn’t fall in love with that play? You’ve seen him play two games, didn’t you?”

“I know he’s good, but that’s not enough. It’d be nice to have a character who can speak up and get the team going, but he’s the complete opposite of that. Your team isn’t attracting any amateurs, right? For events like these, it’s better to have a noisy guy like Okuma.”

“So you want Okuma more than Haijima? Aren’t you being pretty cold to him?”

He couldn’t help but sound grumpy. He understood Aoki’s objective point of view. However, he got angry when he was told things objectively.

“Hmm? No.”

Aoki’s voice was light, and his shoulders turned slightly towards him.

“I’m talking about the ballgame tournament. The captain of this team is you, and if that’s what you want, then I won’t object to it and cooperate with you. If you want, I can find Haijima’s weakness so he can’t refuse no matter what.”

“I don’t need that kind of shady business.”

When he glared at him sideways, his shoulders shook with laughter. “It’s a joke.” It’s scary because this guy actually does those things that seem like a joke.

“We don’t need Haijima’s weakness for him to join. The problem might be Kuroba. He’s doing well so far today, but I don’t know what’ll happen when he comes face to face with Haijima in the finals.”

“Just have them match up. A feud between freshmen would be all cleared up if they just punch each other once hard and tell each other their true thoughts, don’t you think?”

Aoki said carefreely while lightly shaking his hips up and down, then tucked his thing back in and left the urinal.

In the case of you and me, we missed our chance to go through the process of punching each other and saying our true thoughts, and now we’re here… Oda watched the tall silhouette disappear across the label of his plastic bottle with a look like he wanted to say something.

Even though he and Aoki had their disagreements, they always ended up sidestepping the issue instead of getting into a serious quarrel. Even though Aoki would attack others with a sharp tongue as much as he wanted if necessary, but when it came to Oda, he would take a step back. He didn’t have to retract his opinion if there was something about Haijima’s acquisition he didn’t like. I’m not such a tyrant that I won’t respect the opinion of the vice captain.

Oda still wasn’t convinced about how he was chosen as captain in the first place. Whenever Aoki gave him his due because he was the captain, it stimulated a deep sense of inferiority within him.

When the grade before them retired, Aoki was to be appointed as the next captain. He had a mild and calm personality, able to keep an eye on the whole team. He was the natural choice.

At the same time, Oda was advised to switch from attacker to libero. The introduction of the libero system had opened up a place for people with short statures to play an active role. They could only substitute with a back row player and couldn’t participate in the spikes and blocks in the front row, but a receive specialist was an essential position in modern volleyball. It wasn’t that the previous captain had any ill intent, but rather that he knew that Oda poured more passion into volleyball than anyone else.

However, right with that timing, Aoki jumped into the student council. As though he was purposely creating a situation where Oda was compelled to be the captain—he couldn’t hold an important position on the student council and be a team captain for club activities at the same time. That was why Aoki couldn’t take on the role of captain. And under the current rules, the libero couldn’t in effect be the captain. In other words, as long as Oda had no choice but to be captain, he couldn’t switch to libero. Oda truly felt humiliated at being stripped of the attacker position. Because Aoki had sensed that.

What’s with you? Was that pity for me, who never grew taller? Or was it the freedom of a tall guy? He was angry. However, he was unable to lay bare such ugly emotions in front of Aoki and in the end, it didn’t turn into a serious conflict at the time. The comfortable relationship that they had since they started high school had somehow created a wall instead, and there was an atmosphere where it would be too awkward to share their feelings at this point.

Although Aoki was his best friend and a trustworthy partner who was more easy to get on with than anyone, he also harbored a strangely twisted gloominess towards him.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

It was awkward, so he purposely waited for Aoki to leave the washroom before he did so himself, but he saw a tall and narrow back staying in the corridor in front of the gym. From the other direction, Suemori appeared and suddenly spoke in a reproaching tone.

“Oda-senpai, why were you taking your time in the washroom? Please don’t make me wait here.”

“I don’t remember telling you to wait…You could have given me a shout if there’s anything to take care of.”

“I don’t want to go near the boys’ washroom.”

Oda nonchalantly put his hand behind him, feeling that the food and drinks he brought out from the washroom were dirty. I’ve been slightly thinking this for a while, but I wonder if Suemori hates men. But she seems to be able to talk to Kanno normally.

“So, what’s up?”

“The old teacher collapsed.”

Aoki answered in place of Suemori.

“What!?”

The advisor for the boys’ volleyball team was an elderly teacher, just as Aoki called him. They’ve heard that he was rehired on a part-time basis once he reached retirement age. Apparently, he used to play volleyball when he was a student, but the form of the game of volleyball should be quite different between then and now. He was like a fossil from his generation.

The advisor had been the referee for the entire competition without a break since this morning. Even they, as active high school students, were likely to collapse from the hectic bustle, so it would be even harder on the elderly.

It seemed that he was feeling dizzy from the heat due to the temperature in the gym having risen. They said it wasn’t serious, but the referee’s chair was now vacant. There were still three matches left. Either Oda or Aoki should be the referee for the remaining two games in the group league, but the problem was the finals where C and F would encounter each other. Since the other positions also had the bare minimum amount of people in them, there were no extra hands.

“Well, I’ll do it.”

Aoki said without missing a beat.

“Aren’t you competing?”

“I don’t mind. From the start, I prioritized administration, so if there’s not enough people, I was going to pull out and head over there, but…ah, there’d be a problem with me refereeing a match with my own team.”

“You say that, but there’s no other way. I want to give Kanno a chance to be in a game, and there’s no reason to bother pulling Kuroba out. On the contrary, isn’t the balance better now that we have two experienced people on each team?”

“Even if it was still three on two, we won’t lose. It’s not that…it’s no fun if you’re not gonna be playing.”

He felt like he was the only one being childish and having a tantrum at a time when everyone had to back each other up, and his voice got quieter and quieter. He couldn’t bear knowing that Aoki and Suemori were exchanging worried-looking glances over his head. But he still didn’t like Aoki’s quick and easy way of splitting them up. Was I the only one who was looking forward to the match…?

“If that’s the case, let’s make it a little more interesting.”

Aoki proposed in a light tone. When he looked up with suspicion in his eyes, Aoki had a pensive look on his face with a faint smile hovering at the corner of his mouth. He looked like that when he was about to plot something.

“In other words, you’re saying it’s boring because you’re not in it. In the first place, you say ‘take’, but do you even have their approval…?”

“I’ll persuade Okuma. Of course that’s if C wins. If F wins, you’ll persuade Haijima. However, if you lose, you’ll have to give up on Haijima once and for all. —Kuroba!”

Aoki suddenly yelled. Kuroba, who had suddenly been poking his head in from the metal doors on the gym side of the corridor, made a “Mrp” sound and ducked his head.

“You and Nagato both don’t want Haijima to join, right? You were listening in on our conversation just now. Since it’s like that, crush them to bits. Treat this match like a real game.”

***

The chief referee for the finals was Aoki. The assistant referee, the point displayer, and two linesmen were all members of the team who weren’t playing in the game. The other two linesman and the ball retriever were help from the girls’ team, including Suemori.

It was past four o’clock in the afternoon, but heat was coming down the roof, which had been scorched by the midday sun, and accumulated indoors. The windless court wasn’t just completely covered in heat, but also some kind of strangely oppressive atmosphere.

As the team members took their positions around the court, they sensed a strange tension in the court that went beyond a mere school event, and their expressions tightened. Only Aoki had his usual relaxed expression, and he wondered what he was scheming. The way the already-tall Aoki stood on the referee’s stand and looked down at the court already somewhat made it a “tower.”

There were some spectators gathered along the walls and on the stage. The gallery installed on the second floor was also overflowing with students in sportswear. He thought that since it coincided with the futsal and softball finals, the spectators would be drawn to that, but it seemed that a surprisingly large number of people had come just to watch. Across the partition net, on the other side of the court, the girls’ basketball game was being held. The random bouncing of a ball other than a volleyball was jarring to his ears—he might be getting a bit nervous himself. He shrugged his shoulders up and down to release the extra energy. He was already sweating just by standing.

Team F got the serve through rock-paper-scissors. Haijima would serve from the right back row, and Oda would start diagonally from him at the front left. The opposing Team C’s starting order had Kanno at the front right and Kuroba in the back left. With two volleyball veterans placed diagonally from each other and sandwiching and supporting the amateurs, both teams had the most suitable formation.

Kuroba, getting ready to receive, kept pulling at his T-shirt and wiping the sweat off his face an unusual number of times. He wondered if it was just his imagination that the movement of his legs seemed heavy. Even though he was always jumping around on the court even when there was no need for it, now his feet were clinging to the floor. He’s pretty nervous. The fact that the crowd was much bigger than for the group league no doubt played a role.

What are we going to do for this game? He felt like it had become a farce starring the boys’ volleyball team, but of course he wasn’t going to lose on purpose. We’re going for the win. It was out of the question to give up on getting Haijima because of a single loss in a in-school match. If that was the case, he shouldn��t have taken this bet, but it was also out of the question for Oda to not buy a fight that had been sold to him.

He called Haijima, who was heading for the service zone, to a stop and he turned around and asked him something.

“It’s okay now, right?”

“Yeah. Do it with all your power.”

He heard the sound of the safety lock inside Haijima disengaging. In the previous two games, Haijima was banned from doing jump serves. It would no longer be a game against an amateur team if he did so, and someone were to get hit in the face, they risked injury.

“…Eleven months.”

Haijima muttered in a low voice, cast his gaze to a point on the other side of the net and narrowed his eyes.

“Did he get a little better?”

He smiled faintly. The depths of his eyes were boiling, as though he was even taking in this heat and transforming it into a part of the heat within him. Stimulated by that fighting spirit, Oda also felt his entire body trembling.

Just you watch… He glared at Aoki, but couldn’t meet his gaze with Aoki on the referee’s chair.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Haijima’s jump serve even drew the eyes of the first-timer spectators. He placed the ball in his left hand, stretched his arm directly before him and stood still. A beat of dignified silence that took the watcher’s breath away. The moment he tossed the ball up high with a spin towards the ceiling, there was a big “Ooh.”

From his graceful and refined form, as though he was dancing in the air, he let loose a sharp jump serve. Contrary to the slickness of his form, Haijima’s serve was quite unpleasant. It had a unique twisting spin, partly due to him hitting left-handed, and the one who was receiving was under immense pressure. Drawing a curving arc, it accurately aimed for the area Kuroba, who was positioned in the back row, was guarding. Kuroba, who didn’t say he was good at serve receives, managed to hit it with his arms with a panicked look on his face. Fortunately, it went up high, so his teammate went right below it and waited. Who was going to hit it?

Was Kuroba, who received it, going to hit it himself?

“Right court!”

He was astounded by the instruction that came from the referee’s chair.

Oi, wait a minute!? Is that even allowed!?

The ball was set to Kanno on the right court. Oda jumped to block in surprise, but Kanno dexterously shifted the core of the impact and changed it to a straight spike from the angle of a cross-court hit. Tch, he’s good… The spike that was as sharp as a needle went through a narrow course.

While landing, he turned his head to follow the whereabouts of the ball. He thought it might have been on the border of the sideline, but Nagato the linesman didn’t hesitate to indicate that it was in. The person who enthusiastically shouted “Yes!” from outside the court in place of Kanno, who had landed soundlessly, was…Suemori. I get the feeling that there’s a lot of officials that are emotionally attached to the opponent’s side, but…?

Team C’s first point was engraved.

“Oi, why is the referee giving out instructions?”

He snapped at the referee’s chair.

“If there are any objections, you can write them down on the record sheet later.”

Aoki said calmly, then quickly blew the whistle to prompt Team C to serve. There was no way they were going to prepare a record sheet used for official games for a ballgame tournament.

“Do it in one go, Haijima.”

He turned his back on the referee’s stand in indignation and said that aloud in order to calm himself down. However, Haijima only sullenly muttered, “You haven’t gotten any better at defense though,” and it seemed that he didn’t care about the noise around him or the subtle and complex actions of the staff members. The intensity of his concentration after entering the court was astonishing, but…he felt that he was slightly different from the previous two matches. Isn’t his mind too focused on one point?

At the end of where Haijima’s eyes were fixed on, Kuroba was, as ever, looking around restlessly while worrying about sweating profusely. The complete opposite of Haijima, his concentration was scattered. It was a face that screamed that Aoki’s implication was bad.

Team C, under Aoki’s instructions (which he still couldn’t wrap his mind around), had adopted the strategy of gathering the ball to Kanno. The scene where Kuroba hit didn’t return immediately, but even so, that scene came when it was 3-3 in the beginning, the rotation moved three at a time and Kuroba in the front right was directly facing Haijima in the front left over the net.

The first setting of this set came from Kanno to Kuroba.

At Haijima’s instructions, a triple block was set up. Oda in the back row prepared to back them up. “That’s a hell of a jump from that guy!?” The jumping power of Kuroba, who was high enough for his chest to comfortably show up over the net, made the crowd go wild. Completing the rotation of his shoulders by arching his whole body in midair, his body bent back and his arms swung out, as though releasing a nocked arrow. This dynamic spiking form, which could be called the splendor of volleyball, was the usual Kuroba, but…he’s not looking at the blockers at all. The ball didn’t pass over the net, getting caught on the white band and falling to Team C’s side.

Right when F-team took the lead with 4-3,

“Time out.”

The head referee requested a time-out.

Oi…I’ve never heard of this.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Why hasn’t he fixed that habit of his yet?”

Haijima turned on him as soon as they gathered courtside. Team C was making a circle around the tower that was Aoki. So why was the chief referee coming down from the referee’s stand and being on the bench of one team? After glaring at the other party who made his temple spasm, Oda turned back to Haijima.

“It already became solidified within him when he joined in April. There’s no problem in practice games, but he always gets like that when it’s a game with a lot of pressure, and to be honest, he’d be useless in an official match.”

For last year’s middle school prefecturals, Oda only went on the second day, so Kuroba, who apparently only participated on the first day, went unchecked. When he first joined the club, Oda was simply excited that an unexpected find had burst in. In fact, when he was used in the May practice match, he couldn’t find any problems. There was an inconsistent feeling to him, like he was developing, but his energetic play was pleasant to watch, and his strangely likeable character also helped to energize the whole team.

Although they haven’t acquired Haijima yet, he was confident that their attacker lineup was in good order with this, and then the prefectural tournament in the start of June—

The god of volleyball seemed to like secretly digging pitfalls.

An odd habit had begun to show up. He either failed his spikes entirely that got caught by the blocks and got himself out, or it got trapped by the net. It wasn’t like his form was messed up, but he couldn’t settle it. Even when he asked the person in question, he vaguely answered with a somewhat spaced-out expression, like his feet weren’t on the ground, that even he didn’t know why it was like that.

“…Why…”

Haijima grumbled, glaring at his feet with a gaze that could scorch through the floor.

“Stumbling over something like that…”

Haijima, that’s exactly how I feel about you, Oda thought. If you ask me, I’m jealous of the both of you, and just looking at you makes me irritated.

“Hey, we have to do something about him. It seems that it has something to do with Nagato and the second round of the middle school prefecturals?”

At this point, I should create a front that would make Haijima take a step closer to us, even forcibly. Thinking that, he tried inducing him.

“The middle school prefecturals…?”

Haijima raised his head and furrowed his brow.

“Sometimes players fail in their debut matches and suddenly fall to pieces.”

“They said it was my fault? But…”

His voice jumped up for an instant. He immediately closed his mouth sullenly and looked down again, fiddling with the taping on his fingers in front of his stomach. He thought of him as a player who didn’t have the habit of making other people read his mind, so that behavior was unexpected.

“What was I supposed to do…I was waiting, on that day…but, he was the one who didn’t come…”

He felt like the view before him was suddenly blocked by a thin, but hard, shell.

***

Even after the timeout, Kuroba’s play was lackluster. It would have been excusable if he had been blocked by the volleyball team members, but he was messing up because he was minding the blocker, who was an amateur ten centimeters shorter than him and just standing in front of him. Really, when he was good, he was great, but once his gears went out of whack, he quickly fell apart on his own. To be honest, he thought it was better for him to withdraw, but Aoki, Team C’s captain as well as the referee (this dual role was strange no matter how you look at it), didn’t seem like he was going to replace him.

He could see the frustration building up in even Haijima every time Kuroba made a mistake. Even so, the thing that differentiated Haijima from Kuroba was that his play never wavered, or rather, became frighteningly sharp. Not necessarily in a good sense, as he even covered his teammates’ minor mistakes all by himself and ended up excluding the amateurs. It felt like the sullen aura emanating from Haijima’s entire body made it seem as if the temperature on only their side of the court had dropped down a notch. It was out of the control of even Oda and he called to him less and less, and he thought that he could imagine the atmosphere in the second round of the prefectural tournament Nagato was talking about now.

His irritation towards the two who didn’t appreciate at all the value of the treasures that had been given them became stronger. If it were those two, there was no doubt that they would be able to stand at the forefront for the next ten or twenty years. Was it asking too much of freshmen to be less small-minded when they had such high physical potential? But, if he had those two’s potential, he definitely wouldn’t waste it. A super-ace who was trusted by his team for his solid decision-making ability as well as enlivening the team as a mental pillar…He knew that he couldn’t be that kind of player anymore, but he still dreamed to this day.

The fifteen-point system was shorter than he expected. When Haijima rotated from the back row to the front row and match-upped against Kuroba with the net between them again, they entered the final stage of the first set. Kuroba, obviously bending back, took a receiving stance like he was shrinking away from the net. While glaring at Kuroba’s disgraceful behavior with a gaze that could burn the net to ashes, it was perhaps at this moment that a circuit somewhere in Haijima’s mind snapped.

The serve was Oda’s. His thoughts were so focused on the two of them that his aim was a bit fuzzy, so the easy and half-hearted ball ended up falling right in the middle of the opponent’s court. He ran back to the court, fed up with himself as he thought that he might not be better than Kuroba today. That was when it happened.

“Hit the ball, Kuroba!”

Haijima shouted. His carrying voice suddenly pierced through the court where all talking had decreased, and everyone on his own team was startled.

As in the first round, the set flew from Kanno to Kuroba. Almost as if by spinal reflex, Kuroba suddenly did a run-up and leapt. Haijima blocked it perfectly.

However, this time as well, Kuroba’s spike didn’t even go over the net before it was blocked.

They both landed on the floor at the same time, the net between them. Right then,

“Stop screwing around!”

Haijima kicked the floor right after he yelled that, and then barged into the other court from under the net and tackled Kuroba. At this unbelievable situation, Oda froze in the receive stance, unable to move. It’s different for baseball game broadcasts, but I’ve never seen a brawl at a volleyball game, and I didn’t think he was the type to lose his temper like that!?

Everyone on his own team was dumbfounded, and everyone on the other team jumped out of the way, startled. After blowing Kuroba all the way to the center of the court, Haijima immediately went to straddle him and grabbed him up by the collar as Kuroba was hitting his back and coughing.

“Don’t run away! At least give one decent shot! If you’re this nervous for just a ballgame tournament, you’re not cut out for this, so just quit!”

He was yelling at him, looking like he was about to bite his nose off.

Kuroba’s back lifted off the floor.

“Hey…stop it, Haijima!”

Oda came to his senses and hurriedly passed under the net.

Right when he was about to pin Haijima’s arms behind his back, Kanno wedged himself in between them and said, “Senpai.” While keeping Oda back, Kanno looked at the referee’s stand. Oda widened his eyes and looked up at the stand, where he saw Aoki leaning against the top of the pole and grinning down at the two first-years on the floor.

“If they had just one big fist fight and told each other how they really felt…” Their conversation in the washroom flashed across his mind.

Hah!? No way, don’t tell me you were expecting this!?

Kuroba, who he thought was just going to let this happen, surprisingly grabbed Haijima’s wrist and yelled back.

“I’ve never been in a game where I had to lose successfully, and I don’t know how to do that, so of course I’m not cut out for this!”

“What are you talking about…”

Haijima was speechless. Kuroba, hesitating to say further, glared at Haijima at point-blank range as he moved his lips soundlessly. Then, he suddenly cast down his eyes, drew in his chin, and pressed his fist that was grabbing the front of Haijima’s chest to his forehead. It looked like a gesture of prayer.

“…’Cause, he said that you’d come back if we lost… Hey, isn’t this enough… Come back already…”

Come back already.

Those were words that Oda couldn’t think of or say in his position. They made him realize he didn’t need any pretense, and that all he needed was such clumsy, straightforward words.

Haijima, having lost his outlet for anger, just looked bewildered. His face, looking like those straightforward words didn’t penetrate his stubborn heart very well, made Oda irritated again.

“Hai…”

Right when he was about to interject, unable to keep quiet anymore,

Beep!

“Oh, you guys done yet? It looks like you guys pretty much said it all.”

A fake cough and Aoki’s voice, dampening the tension, came down from the referee’s stand.

“If that’s the case, the two of you, leave the court.”

He said, calmly holding up a red card.

“Fighting in volleyball is unheard of. And freshmen, don’t say that this is just a ballgame tournament, because this is a lively event that I worked myself to the bone to prepare for without sleeping. They really do need to pay me for this.”

***

After seeing the overall results at the administration tent with his own eyes, he returned to the gym. The gym, where the partition net was removed and cleanup had ended, was empty, but the net and poles still remained on only the stage-side court where the boys’ volleyball match had taken place. It was as if only the net wouldn’t admit that the match was over. The enthusiasm for the finals that had engulfed the court had now been cooled by the evening air, and he suddenly felt lonely.

There was a figure standing before the net. Like the net in front of them, it seemed like they still wanted to continue the match. Well, he was kicked off the court after doing one set, so I guess I can’t blame him for wanting to rampage more. The taping on his hands hanging down on the sides of his body still haven’t been undone yet.

“Haijima.”

Though his back reacted slightly to his call, he didn’t attempt to turn around. He goes at his own pace, eh. Oda smiled wryly as he approached him.

“They didn’t put the net away?”

“I asked them to leave it. I’ll put it away.”

Just like on the first day of team practice one week ago, Haijima lifted his chin and looked straight at the white band of the net. The sunlight shining through the window weakened and it dimmed considerably in the gym, but he could see a light in his eyes. A dazzling light that welled up within Haijima, as though he couldn’t contain his feelings of dissatisfaction.

“This wasn’t set up at 2.4?”

“Oh, we only raise it to 2.43 at the finals. ‘Cause it’s a game full of experienced players.”

With his hand on the net, stroking it sideways, Oda walked to the edge of the court and put his hand on the pole. Since the protective mat was removed, his palm touched the cold metal directly. The surface of the old bronze-colored pole was rough with copper rust stuck to it.

“We’re going to a family restaurant for the team’s afterparty, so meet us at the school gate at six-thirty. Don’t worry, us third-years are paying.”

“Please don’t count me in.”

He was given an annoyed reply. There are still not enough reasons? Oda sighed. Even though it’s so obvious that he’s longing to play volleyball, what exactly is holding him back? Is there something else besides the Monshiro Middle incident? This guy who’s fundamentally arrogant and seems to not care about other people’s feelings is clearly afraid that something is going to happen.

“You know, volleyball really is a sport that chooses people. Well, what you do in it depends on the person. It’s not a sport where you can carry the ball by yourself, and even if one person is skilled, you can’t win. I’ve told you this before. Remember it.”

“I got kicked in my ass.”

Since Haijima was pouting with a bitter look on his face, a laugh unintentionally slipped out of his mouth as he recalled it. He immediately stopped when Haijima was getting more and more sullen.

“There’s also the fact that the difference in our sizes frankly makes me cry. It’s a cruel story, isn’t it. No matter how hard a guy like me works, even if I think I won’t lose in athletic ability, skill, attitude, or anything, I just can’t beat a big guy in that one factor, height. Why did I fell for volleyball, of all things?”

Too many of the words people hurled at him came from his own mouth. When he explained it to people, they made doubtful faces and couldn’t sympathize with him very much, so these days he had learned to ignore that kind of talk. Aoki wouldn’t understand this much either. They might show their understanding for me, but they wouldn’t have any sympathy for me.

Haijima didn’t worry over his answer. He tilted his head, as though thinking,　This guy’s asking something weird, and stated it definitively. He said it like he was talking about the completely natural activities of living beings, like saying,　Don’t calves stand up after they’re born?

“Isn’t it because there’s nothing more interesting than volleyball?”

Aah…I knew it.

I had a feeling he’d say that. What’s for us, the very simple truth of the world.

I wanted words from someone other than me. I wanted someone to affirm to me that it’s okay for even someone like me to be devoted to something. If a man with much more talent than me, who possibly loves volleyball more than me, said that to me, then I can believe that the time I dedicated to volleyball was never a waste.

Is there anything in this world that is as interesting as this, that can make me as passionate as this? The exhilaration when you release a powerful spike. The feeling of solidarity when a brilliant combination play is executed. The sense of accomplishment when you persevere and break away a rally with your teammates. The feeling of conquest when you force the opponent’s ace to yield with a kill block. That intoxication, when your concentration is at its peak and the team’s hearts are one, and you can clearly see the ball’s trajectory as an unbroken line——

Something hot welled up in his throat, and he suddenly felt like crying. But, it was too early for that. He still hadn’t accomplished anything yet.

So he bared his teeth and smiled instead.

“That so? Well, for me, I love volleyball to death. It’s the only thing where I’m confident that I won’t lose to anyone.”

It was funny that Haijima countered with an extremely serious expression, “I won’t lose either.”

“…Haijima. To be honest, it was for my convenience that I wanted you to join. I’m a third year now. Even so, I want to play as many games on the court as possible, even if it’s just one game. Even if it’s just for a day…even just for a minute, just a second, I wanna play volleyball. Can I borrow your strength for that reason? All of your strength…”

Wouldn’t I get the opposite result with that way of talking? No, it’s fine. These words shouldn’t make Haijima build a wall around himself. He seems to be terribly stoic to me and everyone else, but he won’t reject someone who’s facing volleyball seriously. Ultimately, it wasn’t about whether you were skilled or not, or whether you were tall or short. Whether you are serious about volleyball or not—that was the only line Haijima drew.

That’s why there was no reason to hesitate to step in. I’m holding the key to the door.

He really felt like he was gripping a small key in his right hand. Of course, when he opened his palm, there was no key actually there. However, he turned to Haijima and held out his hand as though to show it to him.

“Won’t you believe in me, Haijima?”

Haijima was silent for a while, staring at Oda’s hand with downcast eyes. He loosened his tied lips.

“…Spring Inter-High.”

A whisper slipped from his mouth.

“…You’re serious about going there, I see. A weak team that has never won a proper game within the prefecture is aiming for it, thinking they can seriously go there. The 2.43 meter net is for that reason, I see.”

Those eyes with a sharpness that seemed to pierce through anything before them were directed towards Oda’s face. He was surprised that something he only mentioned briefly a week ago seemed to have remained in Haijima’s mind. However, he was also convinced that just showed how strong his feelings were. By all rights, he shouldn’t be the kind of athlete who was stuck smouldering in a place like this.

He wasn’t saying it in a way that was making fun of him. On the contrary, if he was the one who poked fun at him even slightly or was ambiguous in his answer, he would without a doubt slap his hand away on the spot.

Neither deception nor half-hearted seriousness was allowed in front of this guy.

“Yeah. Now, all the actors are in place. I seriously believe that this year’s Seiin will definitely become a team that can go to Nationals.”

Oda also looked back into Haijima’s eyes with a piercing gaze and answered.

If you take this hand, I will have to meet your expectations with all my power. I’ll repeat it again with force in order to convey that resolve. There’s no need for complicated reasons. I’m sure that only straightforward words would reach his heart.

“I want you to believe in me. Lend me all of your strength.”

***

“Why the hell are you smiling? Did Haijima say he was going to join?”

Aoki jeered at him when he stopped by the administration tent. Am I smiling? Oda wondered, patting his cheeks. He might be.

“Who knows. Well, he’ll be coming to the next practice, won’t he?”

“Hoo. Personally, I don’t like it, but well, that’s good I guess.”

Aoki said that in a twisted and unstraightforward way. Oda, while wondering in astonishment, Weren’t you the one who set this up?, dragged a free folding chair over and sat diagonally across from Aoki. He leaned over the long table, thrusted his face at him and lowered his face, as though it was an interrogation in a detective drama.

“So, from when and how much of it all was within your calculations? Since you brought up that betting match in front of Kuroba, right? Since you stirred me up by saying you were more interested in Okuma than Haijima? No way, you’re not gonna say you were the one who arranged for Haijima to be in volleyball, are you? I don’t think it’s possible, but does that mean the ballgame tournament itself is a huge charade…”

“I must be the world’s greatest swindler then. You’re giving me too much credit. Originally, I planned to have Team F win the championship, and I wanted to go to the lodging house on the refreshing highlands and getting Haijima while we’re at it…that was all I was thinking. Well, the dream of the highlands lodging house is completely gone now. I really did want to go there.”

All but one of the administration tents that were lined up with their eaves side by side in a corner of the first sports ground were dismantled, and the lower grade members of the executive committee were clearing away the steel frames and sheets while bickering noisily. All of their voices had a listlessness to them, like they had finished burning, and they didn’t sound grating to his ears. Rather, the noise soaked pleasantly into his tired body.

On the grounds, members of the baseball club were doing somersaults. The clock tower behind the back net displayed the time of 6:15. The brightness of the sky dimmed, and grey clouds started to appear. According to the forecast, apparently it was still going to be clear during the day, but the rainy season was going to return during the night. There was the scent of approaching rain. The warm wind, which contained moisture, made his arms and body sticky again after his sweat had finally receded.

The uncoated paper with the overall results for today was posted on the tent’s support. If he thought that there was more enthusiasm about this year’s championship than last year, there was apparently a secret prize that was going to be given to the supreme general of the winning team. The contributor was the executive committee—of course Aoki was the one who was holding the wallet. That prize was the group accommodation at a lodging house on a highland area in the prefecture for summer vacation. It was a form of taking advantage of the fact that the captains of the major sports clubs were spread out across each of the third year classes and stirring up the competition between each team.

In the boys’ volleyball division, Oda’s Team F defeated Team C to win the championship. The referee Aoki’s blatant support for Team C in the first half was camouflage, and after ejecting the two first-years, he devoted himself to making fair and impartial judgements in the second half—or that was how it seemed. Skillfully weaving in a few advantageous judgements for Team F, he manipulated the outcome. He’s a crook through and through…but since it’s a school event, I can just barely forgive him, but if he pulled this kind of thing somewhere else, I’ll be done with him.

However, they didn’t perform so well in the other events, and in the end, Team F had to settle for second place overall. The guesthouse on the highlands was to be given over to another club.

“Aaah, I guess we’ll have to do it at school this summer too. It’ll be harsh without air conditioning though.”

“You know, you’re pretty practical even though you don’t look it…”

“Dunno what you mean by not looking practical, but I’ll accept the compliment. Well, the things you can get with cheap tricks aren’t that important, and there are plenty of things you can’t get...” a loud yawn slipped out from his wide mouth.

“Are you going to the after party? The first and second-years worked hard today, so we gotta thank them.”

“Sorry, but I’ll have to pass. I don’t mind splitting the money in half. I didn’t sleep for three days to finish up preparations.”

“Three days? And yet you managed to get in two games.”

“It’d be tough to do three games. When the old teacher collapsed, I thought in my head, ‘I’m saved.’”

He leaned back deeply on his folding chair, causing it to creak, and when he bent his neck and tilted it left and right, there was a cracking sound. Though he wondered if it was okay to speak that way about an elderly person, it seemed that after he rested in the infirmary for nearly an hour, he had readily recovered and went along with the teachers to their after-party, so perhaps it was okay for Aoki to say that, considering all his toil.

During this ball game tournament, which included preparations, while Oda was just saying he wanted Haijima like a spoiled brat, just how hard was Aoki working, even using his influence, for the sake of the whole team? When it came to Haijima, even though he wasn’t supposed to have agreed to it, he considered Oda’s feelings and took action like it was a matter of course. It had completely slipped from his mind, but it was time to think about summer training camps.

Since they knocked on the door of the boys’ volleyball club in April two years ago, he had helped him one-sidedly until now. The prodigy who had student council duties, and who on top of that could get accepted to Kyoto University, probably had any number of things he could do besides volleyball, unlike Oda. He felt a deep sense of guilt that because he invited him that day—because they were “Aoki” and “Oda”, an unexpected intrusion ended up coming into Aoki’s life.

“Ah, hey…thanks for everything…”

It was too embarrassing to say it now after two years, and he couldn’t look him in the eyes. He was grateful for the gap between their lines of sight right then. Every time he was covered for, it only deepened his own sense of inferiority, and he had never thanked him face-to-face until now.

Good grief, it’s not just my outside, I’m also tiny and worthless on the inside.

“But, sorry…you’re going to have to go along with my selfishness for just a little longer.”

His debt would increase even more in the future. It seemed that Aoki won’t be able to concentrate on his exams for a while yet.

“…That’s just like you.”

Aoki mumbled to himself, his head still turned away. From Oda’s position, he could only see his chin moving slightly, and he had no idea what expression he had on his face.

“You’re giving me too much credit. I’m feeling guilty now. Playing volleyball with you is what I want to do right now, and I’m not doing it unwillingly. I don’t need to be thanked at all. I’ve been saying this since before, but me not liking Haijima is completely my personal feelings, and I’m the one who’s just being selfish. I don’t really care about going to university or not, and I don’t mind if you want me to lower my rank so we can go to the same place…I’m basically just driven by my ulterior motives.”

“Ulterior motives?”

There was the sound of water drops hitting the roof of the tent. The people working outside the tent looked up at the sky and exclaimed, “It’s starting to rain?”

“…You don’t have to understand.”

Aoki raised his head slowly, like a giraffe stretching its neck to find leaves that were just right, and stifled another yawn. Then, he turned towards him and lifted the edge of his mouth.

“Let’s go to Spring Inter-High. I’ll follow you until the end.”

For Oda, that thin, ironic smile was more reliable and trustworthy than anything.

The prefectural preliminaries would start at the end of September, two months later. If they won there, his retirement would be extended until the final representative deciding match in November. And if they managed to win the representative deciding match, then it would be until the nationals in January——. Just one game more. Just a day, a minute, a second longer. In order to delay the “end” just a little bit longer, they third-years would clumsily make every effort with all their ability.

When the rainy season ended, their final summer would arrive. There was no doubt that that summer would be like a condensed version of the rest of their lives after graduation. His doubts about his career path cleared up. He would put all he had into everything he could do and wanted to do right now. He didn’t care if the next few decades would be the rest of his life. Even if he burned out here and had nothing left within him, he wouldn’t regret it now.

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#2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation #2.43: seiin high school boys volleyball club #2.43

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wakaoujisenhime · 4 years

Note

Hello! I really fall in love with your blog! Thank you very much for those Vorpal Swords headcanons! Can I ask headcanons about being Rakuzan manager? For example, how she cares about boys and they care about her; how Rakuzan protects her; How she supports them at games. And Akashi likes her. Good luck to your blog!

A/N: Hello there! I’m glad to know that you’re enjoying these, so I hope that this one will be to your liking as well! Also to those who don’t know what a ‘bokken’ is: it’s basically a wooden sword, Japanese swordswomen and men use for training!

Tags: Akashi x reader ✅ Rakuzan x reader ✅ SFW ✅ fluff ✅ friendship ✅

image/art source: Zerochan (art by Tousaku) [I sadly couldn't find the corresponding post where they uploaded it, since that artist seems to be inactive atm, but if you happen to stumble upon it, please make sure to tell me!]

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

so first of all how did you even become Rakuzan’s manager?

well you were actually taking care of the team BEFORE Akashi joined the club

back then you guys were a wholesome team, but the moment the redhead was pronounced captain it all went downhill...

your former teammates began dropping out with the same complaints

“He’s too strict”, “I can’t train like this anymore”, “When he’s on the court, basketball loses its fun factor!”

even if you hated to admit it...they were right

Akashi was a REALLY strict leader who always wanted his team members to give it their all

100%? Not enough, make it a 110 and then you might be chosen as a substitute

during the first half of the school year, you put up with everything he threw at you, whether it were insults or commands

at one point you weren’t even the manager anymore but became his loyal puppy that did everything he instructed you to do

the things he requested weren’t even worthy to your title...unless you like standing in front of the gym door, acting like a bodyguard at the disco

and of course, even you had your limits

after Akashi had once again decided to give you an unreasonable task, you finally snapped

“I’ve had enough! Just who do you think you are, ordering me around as if I was your subordinate!”

“Listen. You either fix that emperor like attitude of yours, or you end up losing one of Japan’s strongest team...including me.”

in your state of anger, you had shoved the clipboard you were using against his chest and had stormed off the gym

a whole week had passed and you didn’t visit the club even once, that’s how pissed off you were

one day just when you thought about filling up a club withdrawal paper, there was a letter in your locker

...

Dear (Y/N)...I know that the way I’ve been acting up until now has upset you, but the reasoning behind my behavior is a simple one. All I desire is to see whom of these ‘star players’ everybody (including you) praises, can actually live up to their title. Sadly, I’ve come to the conclusion that none of them were able to, so I’ve decided to build up a new team in which you as well are going to be needed. I sincerely hope that you are willing to help the new Rakuzan basketball club reach even greater heights than ever before. Yours faithfully, Akashi Seijuro

P.S: We need you manager.

...

the first half of the letter had made your blood boil, but the further you read the more your curiosity got peaked

but you didn’t want to give in that easily, so you decided to visit the club one day to see what Akashi’s idea of an absolute basketball team looked like

...

“So (Y/N)..what do you think?“, Akashi asked after practice had ended

you had just looked at him with one of your ‘are you kidding me?’ faces and shook your head

these boys...

a) looked like full-fledged men to you

b) could easily snap you in half if they wanted to (especially Nebuya)

and finally

c) were probably all legendary NBA players in their past life

all in all they were amazing

watching them play gave you the impression of an actual and professional basketball game...that’s just how good they were

...

two months passed and you had taken the role of the manager once again

you hated to admit it, but Akashi was once again right..this team was absolutely amazing and worthy of any title you could think of

luckily these boys turned out to be more wholesome than you had ever anticipated

knowing that all of them had their struggles and own problems to deal with, despite their flawless appearance made you realize that that they were indeed your typical high school boys and not some basketball machines

sadly they couldn’t - or better said - weren’t allowed to show any weakness during training...these were Akashi’s orders

much to your surprise, they had accepted it with much less resistance than the members before them, but you were a little anxious that they might end up quitting the team so you took it upon yourself to prevent that scenario from arriving

from that day forward you began spending more and more time with all the members (except Akashi) …

Reo:

as the vice-captain he was to ensure that everybody followed the training regimen they were given by the redhead (in case of his absence)

sadly due to his laid-back nature and feminine speech, almost no one took him seriously

that’s where you come in…

“Come on now guys! Listen to Reo or I’ll get the bokken! And if that doesn’t get you guys moving then I’m sure a short phone call with Akashi certainly will...”

the second line always worked and even managed to make Reo giggle

after that, he’d always thank you several times and while the others ran laps/were stretching the two of you would always talk about that day’s schedule

by the end of practice, Reo and you would actually go out and do some shopping while talking about different topics

and thanks to his talented eye for the beautiful, your wardrobe was full with clothes that complimented your figure just perfectly, which only boosted your ego

a certain topic you guys started talking about only recently was romance

at first you were extremely careful to not touch upon any touchy subject since there were a lot of rumors amongst your classmates, concerning Reo’s sexual orientation

but the more you got to know him, the easier it was for you to talk to him and in no time the two of you had become best friends

whenever someone either came up to you or him and wanted to just mess around, the two of you got each other’s backs at all time and would either intervene directly or call for backup (mainly Nebuya)

thanks to Reo’s ‘big sister’ personality you luckily never felt alone or at a loss, since you knew that he’d always be there for you and help you out

Kotarou:

this boy seriously makes you run for your money

he’d always arrive almost half an hour earlier than the others just cause he wants to mess around with you (he’d for example take your clipboard and make you literally chase him for it)

at first it upset you quite a bit, but as time passed you eventually got used to it and evolved your strategy

you chase him?

hell NO

you’d instead sit down on one of the benches and wait for him to bring it back to you

your strategy for that was to remain silent and show no reaction whatsoever whenever he asked if you weren’t going to chase him like the ‘good old times’

he’d then get so worried that he’s upset you that he gives up, brings you your clipboard and starts either poking your cheeks, playing with your hair or straight out embrace you

the latter always broke your façade

his warm hugs accompanied by the glistening puppy eyes and his snaggletooth always made you pity him and wonder if you’ve perhaps gone too far

the moment you’d give in, his cheerful attitude was back in an instant

and that routine became pretty much a daily ritual between the two of you

what perhaps surprised you the most was when you actually witnessed Kotarou’s other side of his bubbly personality

he was surprisingly the ‘holding a grudge’ type (especially on the court)

Rakuzan had a practice match once and when a player of the opposing team made it past the blond boy seconds later he was fuming, glaring at everyone who even looked his way and screamed more as well as louder than usual

the others around you weren’t even faced by his sudden tantrum so it was up to you to calm him down before the referee gave him a yellow card

since then his mood-swings became your responsibility

outside of the gym, you guys spent a good amount of time together

you mostly helped him out with his homework since he really wasn’t the brightest out of the bunch (and as some of you might know in Japan your grades play a major role when you’re a part of a club. Depending on your test results you might get excluded from some of the activities as far as I know) and you weren’t going to leave on any activity without this ball of sunshine

to pay you back for your help he’d go skateboarding with you on the weekend

in case you forgot or couldn’t skate he’d help you remember or teach it to you

much to your surprise, he was quite a good teacher, so it was easy for you to understand the basics and even learn some of the simplest tricks on the way

but in case you were some kind of a pro (or simply good) at it, he’d challenge you to a small contest and by the end of it the two of you would actually come up with a small choreography

Nebuya:

to be frank, he intimidated the heck out of you (at first) and he was actually the most difficult for you to approach

the main reason for your reluctance was mainly because of his appearance, but just a day after you were first introduced to him made you change your mind

on your way to school you took the train and as commonly known the trains in Japan were the majority of the time extremely filled with people and some of them just couldn’t keep their hands by themselves and just had to go ahead and start feeling people up

in that case, the victim was unfortunately you

the typical reaction of your other female classmates would’ve been to stand there and do nothing about it, but you were different

“Excuse me, but could you stop touching me?“, you asked in a loud voice making sure that at least some people witnessed what was happening

you couldn’t care less if you guys became the center of attention, all you wanted was to get this creep’s hands away from your body...and you did

what you didn’t know/notice was that Nebuya had actually seen all of it and wanted to come and help, but you were quicker

when you got out of the train he caught up to you and directly asked if you were ok

he even went ahead and bowed his head to you apologizing multiple times for not reacting quick enough

it surprised and scared you at the same time, but this was kind of a chance to finally talk to him, so you made sure to not let that opportunity slip away

and trust me when I say this, but this man turned out to be a bigger softie than you anticipated

since that day he became the person you’d call upon first in case of trouble you couldn’t solve on your own

Nebuya even volunteered to be your bodyguard, but you weren’t really a damsel in distress so you refused at first

and after many arguments, pouts and pleas you finally gave in and agreed to go to school together every day

additionally during training he’d make sure to be the first one to save you from any flying ball

much to his dismay, you managed to dodge or even to catch the majority of them which made his attempts completely futile

so in order for him to stop sulking about how he had ‘failed to show you his muscles in action’, you’d go out and help him with his workout

sometimes you’d even be his motivational right hand during his own eating contests

and when he decided to show his ‘manly’ side and either burps or lets out gas, your bokken was on him just some seconds later

Mayuzumi:

this boy seriously hated you in the beginning

in his eyes you were nothing but a loud girl who wanted some attention and tried to gain it by acting as the manager

much to his surprise you figured him out pretty quickly

you somehow knew when he became irritated on the court and immediately took action to prevent any outbursts from him or someone else

furthermore, you supported his hobby without asking questions and when he expressed the wish to go to the rooftop and read a chapter or maybe even two from his light novel, you’d just let him go

one afternoon he came to the gym to excuse himself from training and found only you and how you had fallen asleep on the referee table

his first thought was to leave before you even noticed that he’d been there, but then he saw a small notebook with the title ‘RAKUZAN BB CLUB’ so he got curious and started reading your handwritten entries about all of the members

each member had a few pages worth of information you had either gathered yourself or looked up

he found it a tad adorable that you reserved the last page for a personal comment on a player since it reminded him of how some of his authors wrote an afterword at the end of their story

as soon as he read his name though he suddenly became really reluctant to proceed

for some reason, he was afraid of what you might have written/researched about him

he started to read it anyways

“...”

“Has a low presence...well yeah I guess”

“...”

“Seems to be prouder than he lets on? W-Wha? That’s not even...true”

“...”

“Probably swears at his teammates internally...how did she know?!”

“...”

“It would make me happy if we talked more to each other, but he probably hates me... ”

Mayuzumi would’ve never told you, but that last line hurt him quite a bit

that day he decided to join practice and when you called for a timeout you’d always leave his towel and water bottle on the bench next to you and he’d normally just take it, but this time he murmured a barely audible ‘thank you’

you almost fainted then and there, but somehow managed to keep up your serious facial expression (which he very much appreciated)

the two of you would almost never go out/spend time together, but instead, you began exchanging small gestures like you buying him a new volume of his favorite author or him hiding a small ‘thank you’ note in your notebook

Akashi (finally):

since you and he know each other from way back, you didn’t have that much contact in the beginning since you wanted to take your time to get to know the new members, but Akashi’s eyes were always on you

if someone out of the other members even dared to ask him if he harbored feelings for you...then let us just pray that he doesn’t have Midorima’s scissors with him

but if one of his main players (most likely Kotarou) asked him about it, he’d just cut him off quickly and shut the conversation down

Rakuzan’s captain cares for you in his own kind of way

he’d support you from afar and make sure that no one who he doesn’t deem as worthy comes even remotely close to you

you weren’t aware, but since you had once again become the manager of the reformed Rakuzan you became quite popular

a lot of people admired you, some were even impressed or jealous and some even began having feelings for you

“I’m thinking about asking (Y/N) out...what do you think?”

as soon as Akashi heard your name in such a conversation he instantly made his move

don’t ask how he did it, but within a week you had gained the reputation of being ‘out of limits’ for everyone except for the club and your friends and just in case someone felt the need to be adventurous, there was no way they’d be let into the gym (thanks to Akashi’s orders and Nebuya’s muscular body)

the redhead had first noticed his feelings for you when you snapped at him back then

for him it was the first time someone even dared to speak up against him and even insult him

he was surprised and very annoyed at first, but as the days passed by him and his incomplete team he figured that it would be the best to start anew

so he scouted three of the uncrowned kings and a 3rd-year student who basically was a future version of Kuroko

when the stage was set all he needed was for the main star to appear, so he sent you that letter where he invited you to watch the new team

as far as the confession goes...

Akashi is a very strategic person, so he’d most likely wait for his promise to come true (the promise of Rakuzan reaching greater heights) and then confess saying something like:

“See? I’ve kept my promise...now it’s your turn.”

#knb headcanons #knb x reader #akashi x reader #rakuzan x reader #knb fluff #━𝙺𝙽𝙱 #━𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾

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prorevenge · 4 years

Text

Bully me for months? I'll hit you where it hurts the most, literally.

I want to preface this by saying I'm not proud of what I've done here. To the casual observer, what I did might seem like justice, but, really, I wish it didn't have to go as far as it did. I want my story to be a cautionary tale of what happens when bullying isn't taken seriously. I don't want this story to inspire you to do what I did, but as to what happens when people don't make the right choices the first time. Also, TL;DR at the bottom, the quotes aren't exact, and apologies if this seems a little all over the place. It's not easy for me to bring up stories like this, but I felt maybe I'd do some good by sharing it.

For as long as I can remember, I had a habit of bottling up my emotions. My single father is a staunch believer in traditional masculinity, including the idea that men and boys shouldn't cry. By my early to mid teens, I succumbed to this outdated idea, and accepted my fate as a quiet, stoic drone that just took orders, respected authority, and did hard work (especially manual labor.)

Enter my high school, which had a huge problem with bullying. The worst kids by far were the trashy "gangsta" kids (their words, not mine) from the inner city who targeted anybody they considered weaker than them. I was a pretty muscular 15 year old, but that didn't stop them from saying things like "Dude, you're so fat," or "Wassamatta, fattie? Lose your Twinkies on the way over?" In class, it was mostly petty annoyance: taking my pencil, sticking gum in my hair, insults. They got physical when the teachers weren't looking. Tripping me in the hall and pretending it was an accident; slamming my head against the locker, hitting me with footballs or soccer balls and saying a fake "whoops, sorry!" By themselves, it didn't seem that bad, but enough grains of sand add up to a huge pile, and, at that point, I was up to my waist in it.

Of course, the school didn't do anything about it. Teachers would either tell me "I'll take care of it," and then nothing ever changed, or I'd get something stupid like "I didn't see it. There's nothing I can do" or "You know, if I stopped class every time a kid was acting up, we'd never get anything done." Sure, and if a tree falls in the forest, it didn't make a sound because you didn't hear it. My father wasn't any help either. He'd tell me things like "there's gonna be people like that everywhere you go," or "if you're crying about this, you'll never make it in life," basically telling me to go suck it up because there are worse things out there. As a kid, I was hurt by this, but I was 15, so my self-esteem had been run over by a Combine a few times by now. For months, I just kept ignoring and waiting, hoping my teachers would keep their word about dealing with this problem. Sadly, it seemed they'd rather prioritize pep rallies and Career Aptitude Tests than do their job in keeping kids safe.

By around Spring, I'd had enough. By now, my sadness and annoyance had transmuted into boiling rage that I'd been keeping in me for far too long. If nobody was going to fight for me, I'd do it for myself, literally. I devoted the majority of my weekend to prepping for a showdown on Monday.

One of the few good things about my father is that how knowledgeable he is in self-defense. He believed it was important for a man to learn to fight, so he had me take several different kinds of martial art classes. If I was gonna fight a bully, I had to make it a proper fight. I then researched about Krav Maga, a branch of martial arts that's basically a military-style form of self defense, meant to train you how to fight if you were ever in danger "outside the arena." No rules, no balanced teams, no referees; just you and your need for survival. One of the components of Krav Maga is knowing the body's biggest "weak spots," ones that maximize the most amount of pain when hurt. Things like the groin, toes, and eyes were obvious, but you could also hit the knees, solar plexus, and even the spine. Since my classes didn't teach Krav Maga (you had to be 16 at the time,) I watched many online videos, making mental notes of the techniques used. It was almost always the same kid or group of kids that bullied me, so I already knew what they looked like, and, more importantly, where to strike.

On Monday, I waited for the next chance to come for the bullies to attack. To my surprise, they kept quiet for the most part. Maybe this was one of my lucky days where I'd actually get some work done. Then, while I was crunching for an exam during lunch, one of the bullies, a regular, spilled my water all over my textbook, and saying, "Whoops, sorry!" As he and his pals started walking away laughing, I got a good look at the back of the guy's neck. I raised my fist, aiming for the middle where I'd likely hit his spinal column.

WHAM! I knocked the guy over to the ground. That's when all Hell broke lose. His friends tried tackling me away, and I tried remembering to hit all their weak points: eyes, throat, groin, and jaw. It was fairly sloppy attempt at Krav Maga given my inexperience, and the other kids trying to fight back, but it got the effect I wanted. Of course, I didn't come out unscathed. I got punched in the jaw, a bloody nose, a bruise to the forehead, and more than a few kicks in the family jewels. The other kids noticed us fighting, with some going to get a teacher while others watched in a mix of shock and excitement. Eventually, the principal and a few other teachers pulled us apart, and sent us to the office, after our injuries were treated.

The principal talked with us individually while the assistant principal called all our parents. When it was my turn, I explained what happened. At some point, the principal said, "Why didn't you tell the teacher?" At that moment, I just snapped, somehow managing to sound even angrier than when I was fighting a few minutes ago. "I ALREADY TOLD THE DAMNED TEACHERS, LIKE A MILLION FUCKING TIMES, BUT NOBODY WAS DOING SHIT ABOUT IT! NOBODY! YOU TELL ME OVER AND OVER 'I'LL TAKE CARE OF IT, I'LL TAKE CARE OF IT,' BUT NOBODY EVER FUCKING DOES! I WOULDN'T HAVE FELT LIKE I HAD TO DO THIS OF SOMEBODY HERE ACTUALLY DID THEIR DAMNED JOB FOR ONCE!" I got an extra week of suspension for yelling.

Much to my surprise, my father was rather quiet about the whole thing. Normally, my father had the temperament of a dragon, but maybe this whole fight touched his inner "macho man" that made him go easier on me.

On the car ride home, he said calmly, but firmly, "What happened? And tell me the truth." I told him, "They wouldn't stop picking on me, so I defended myself." I waited to hear my father make some snide remark about hurt feelings, but he just said, "Were you in danger?" I paused for a moment, and said, "...Yes." I knew I was exaggerating, but maybe this could open my father's eyes to see how much I was hurting. He was quiet for a minute, and then said, "I can't judge on your situation 'cause I wasn't there, but it's in a boy's nature to be aggressive sometimes, and it sounds like those bullies were just using it for harm. I also know you well enough t'know you wouldn't lay a finger on somebody unless you felt like you had to." I nodded, holding back tears. "Next time you're ever in that kinda danger, call me. Don't wait for the teachers to fail you again. I'll give 'em Hell." I was stunned, and, once I realized what'd just happened, I smiled. That's one of the few redeeming qualities about my father. As toxic and narcissistic as he was, he was an expert on bringing vengeance to those who deserved it.

During my suspension, one of the bullies' parents wanted to press assault charges on me, but my father threatened to counter-sue the school AND the parents for letting the bullying go on for so long. Thankfully, nobody had to go to court as the bullies' credibility sank faster than the Titanic. Once word got around that I fought back to stop the bullying (rather than the strong, quiet guy going psycho,) more kids decided to come forward to the principal about their experience being bullied, too, and how they also went to the teachers for help. This included a few girls who were being sexually harassed by these kids. This was a PR nightmare for the school that left a permanent stain on their reputation among the locals. In the end, the bullies got expelled, some faced charges for sexual harassment, and I got transferred to a different high school. I guess I'm a little proud that I inspired some other troubled kids to come forward, but I really didn't like violence. I'm built for self-defense, but I don't like hurting anybody unless it's to protect those I love. I would've much preferred if teachers actually did their job, and "took care of it" before I had to.

I did get a gift certificate for summer classes in Krav Maga for my Sweet 16. Thankfully, I've never had to use it yet.

TL;DR: Bullies spend months torturing me, and teachers won't do anything, so I researched and imitated an advanced martial arts to bring maximum physical pain to my bullies.

(source) story by (/u/aitacrybaby)

#prorevenge #by /u/aitacrybaby #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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seeds-and-sins · 4 years

Text

The Seeds accepting you, a young kid, into their family would be like...

• To the surprise of others, cult members and sinners alike, your acceptance into the family happened the moment you met them.

• Your drunk father was being the abusive piece of shit he was at one of Joseph's Sermons and Jacob Seed intervened without hesitation.

• Within weeks John Seed found a way to legally remove you from your father's custody and assign the family as your permanent guardians.

• John pulled some strings even further and your father was sent to prison for child abuse. Needless to say, you won't see him for a while.

• The Seed siblings, at first, had a hard time figuring out who you would live with.

• So you had a room at each of their abodes, free to live with any one of them, whenever you so chose.

• John would spoil you with an endless array of gifts and excessive affectionate hugs and forehead kisses. He would take you flying in his plane whenever you stayed over at his ranch. He even let you fly it one time, but don't tell Joseph.

• Family dinners every friday night were your favorite.

• John would make the meal and it would suck, but nobody wanted to hurt his feelings, so he never would know.

• Jacob would secretly pass his food down to his wolf sitting under the table, motioning for you to be quiet about it with a wink.

• Family conversations sometimes turning into bickering...

• "Unicorns are real! Okay?! The Bible says so!"

• Joseph and you had a garden together that the both of you would work on when you were at his compound. He would read scripture to you, teach you lessons about the world, and talk to you about the collapse.

• Jacob was more about tough love. He had high expectations of you in terms of being efficient when it came to protecting yourself, surviving in the wilderness, and acknowledging your surroundings. (But every now and again, he would allow you to sleep in his arms if you had a nightmare about your abuse, or were afraid).

• Faith, you went to when you had emotional issues, or questions, or when you wanted female company. You both would have sleepovers and she would give you all the sweets you could imagine.

• Family photos where they all are extra and try to get single photos with you. (There might be a fight over who is the favorite parent, but Jacob doesn't call himself parent as much he does guardian).

• Joseph has one really cute photo of John, Jacob and you, that he hides in his journal. It was the day you got officially baptized and as Jacob was trying to help you out of the river, John and you yanked him in.

• You started playing basketball at your highschool, now that your father was gone you had more confidence to explore your interests. And the Seeds were more than enthusiastic about you being more active and social.

• At home games, they would be the ones cheering for you in the stands, the loudest spectators, even Jacob would participate in the madness (mainly to threaten the referee for calling fouls on you).

• Jacob and John worked with you often to make sure that you were the best player on the team. Jacob more so, would force you to train as much as possible.

• The coach let Jacob take over practice one time, since he usually watched on the sidelines. No one made it to the end of pratice, except for you.

• One of your fellow team mates going, "I hope your dad never runs practice ever again."

• Jacob yelling, "Cull the herd!", aggressively, anytime you got the ball.

• Joseph pulling you aside at half time and explaining, "My child, remember when I said violence wasn't the answer? Yes, well, this might be the one time where I am wrong."

• John bragging about you to the opposing team's parents, "Oh look! There they go again! Out running all of your children and scoring on them."

• Your sophmore year you almost failed math, you had good grades in your other classes, but the teacher wouldn't budge. It was your worst subject.

• At away games, it was almost like the whole cult was there to cheer you on. They would take two massive buses of members who would come see you play.

• Your math teacher never called for a parent-teacher conference ever again. Your grade became a C shortly after that meeting.

• John calling your math teacher and saying, "It would be a shame if (insert random blackmail information) became public."

• You being the best in PE class, with none of the kids being able to catch up, because Jacob Seed trained you every early morning. You were a force to be reckoned with.

• When you started dating, the whole family was very protective of you.

• Jacob and John were more direct when it came to threatening your boyfriend/girlfriend about being good to you.

• "If you try anything, I will carve the sin from your flesh myself. No one will be able to save you, and when I am done with you, well..." John's words fading into a deep chuckle, with that leering smile on his expression.

• Jacob crossed arms, stern posture, "Hmm, I hope you know where you belong, you pathetic weak little-" He stopped at Joseph's glare, "Especially where your hands belong, or else you'll lose'em."

• Your first ex ended up finding snakes in their pillow case before they went to bed one night. Jacob swore 'he had nothing to do with it' and John couldn't stop smiling.

• Faith and Joseph were sweet and kind, but their words had a warning lurking beneath them.

• "My child, you are so full of life. I would be very disappointed should something happen that would require that life to be slowly taken from you. I will pray for you." And Joseph traced a cross onto their forehead, which they couldn't have know that that meant they were marked.

• "It's so nice to know that they think you deserve them." Faith placing a hand on her chest, mockingly being kind to your date. "They are so giving and genuine aren't they? Let's hope they are right... for your sake."

• Your boyfriend/girlfriend had to ask permission before taking you to the local drive in.

• Jacob and John stopping you before you leave, "Don't forget that one neck breaking move that I showed you" and "Do you have that knife that I gave you last Christmas".

• When they give you the talk, Jacob was completely absent from the conversation, John wouldn't stop nervously pacing, and Faith and Joseph were mainly doing the talking.

• Jacob piping in at the end, to Joseph's aggravation, "Just make sure you wrap it up, kid."

• "Only when married can two partners share eachother in such an intimate and loving embrace," Joseph explains.

• Jacob admitting, "Ya'know kid, I actually don't mind having you around, and I don't like having anybody around."

• Joseph always saying, "After I lost my daughter, I never thought the Lord would gift me with another child, and then... and then we found you."

• Take your kid to work day, where John takes you to one of the Project's many court hearings at the Missoula courthouse.

• "My daughter/son would be a better lawyer than you ever could be and they haven't even become a lawyer yet."

• All the other cult members practically babysitting you, or watching your back while the Seeds did the Lord's work.

• Jacob giving you your very own Judge, that follows you around the Veteran's Center and elsewhere when he is busy.

• John Seed tried to cook for you one time and it came out horrible, so you both just started get pre-made meals in the mail.

• Prom night at the Hope County Highschool was a night to remember because John, Joseph, Jacob, and Faith all chaperoned.

• When no one wanted to dance with you in fear of your four parents, the Seeds each had one dance with you.

• John, Faith, and you pranked Jacob into beating up your PE teacher, with a disapproving Joseph on the sidelines.

• You all ended up back at the ranch anyways, for a family dinner.

• When you graduated high school, John Seed revealed his secret stash of wine to you, "You are old enough in my book."

• You having trouble figuring out what you want to do in life.

• "Whatever you do, whether its here with us, or not, we will support you."

• Jacob swelling with pride when you join the Army (but secretly afraid because he doesn't want you to go through what he went through), John nearly crying when you explain you want to become a JAG, and be a lawyer like him.

• John calling you to talk about the family and complain, Jacob rarely calling or accepting your phone calls (he doesn't like phones so much, but you know he cares), Joseph and you communicate through letters, and Faith always FaceTimes or Skypes you.

• When the first seal is broken, the Family urges you to return home to help prepare for the collapse.

• Even as you rushed to get back, there was not enough time.

• You don't make it back before the collapse and end up stuck in someone else's bunker, an individual that you soon come to be friends with.

• Joseph gives you a frantic welcome, crying and holding you in his vice grasp. He explains what happened, how Jacob, John and Faith were killed.

• When the seven years ends, you head straight to Hope County, your bunk mate and you head your separate ways. You look for your family with all of the energy you have, and you find them. There is only one left.

• And then you cry and feel guilty, because you blame yourself for not getting back in time. But Joseph talks you out of that guilt and explains to you that what we do now will be in their honor.

• Ethan being slightly jealous when Joseph shows you more love and affection than him.

• Joseph and you talk about them often.

• And he introduces you to the man you would call your brother, Ethan.

• Together, the three of you try to build what your family had always wanted.

• Joseph stating with so much appreciation and gratefulness in his voice, "You came back safe to me, you came back home. I am proud of you, and John, Jacob, and Faith would be so proud of you too."

• And you never once realized that the Judge was, in fact, the murderer of your beloved parents.

• At least you had Joseph and Ethan...

• Since the day Jacob punched your dad across the jaw in the church, "I know what it's like. No one will ever touch you like that ever again", he promised.

• The day that John stood in a court room and fought for you, "You are one of us now, and we Seeds protect eachother."

• The day that Joseph wrapped a blanket around you, "I knew you would come to us, to be part of our family."

• And the day that Faith held you in her loving embrace, "Everything happens for a reason, my little flower."

• That was the day you became a Seed.

#jacob seed #john seed #joseph seed #faith seed #farcry 5 #far cry deputy #reader #growing up #guardianship #taking care #the Seeds basically raise you #abusive relationship with biological father #Jacob saves you #sad ending

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lmaoeraserhead · 4 years

Text

Groovy

Shinso Hitoshi x Reader (Y/n)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: language maybeeee? Fluffffff

Summary: Shinso(u?) and y/n are invited to EraserMic’s place for dinner... and a show ;)

My first lengthy-ish fic! I hope y’all like it ahah... i could be convinced to write a more nsfw part 2,,, idk. ALSO someone help like is Shinso’s name with or without the u?

You had been dating Shinsou for almost a year now. You both had attended UA highschool and met your 2nd year, his 3rd. You often doubted your relationship with Toshi due to the differences you both shared. Where your boyfriend was tirelessly training to become one of UA’s top hero graduates, you tinkered around in the support course trying to help however you could.

Despite the contrast in the lives you both lead, Shinsou seemed to love you as fiercely as he always had.

“Hey, kitten.” The familiar sound of your boyfriend’s raspy voice sounds behind your ear as his arms wrap around your torso. “What ya been up to today?” He rests his head in the crook of your neck and plants a quick kiss on the juncture.

“Just planning some support items for one of your friends, his name is Doofus… or something.” You settle into Shinsou’s embrace and the tension from the day seeped from your shoulders. “He has an energy quirk and he wants-”

“D-d-doofus?” Your boyfriend’s chest was shaking with barely restrained laughter. “You mean Denki? Kaminari?” He met your scowl with light eyes, “And you know I don’t have friends, babe. Only you.” He leaned back and sent a wink your way.

“Ugh, leave me alone Toshi. It’s been a long day.” You punched his arm and laughed at the pout he sent your way. “Shouldn’t you be with Eraser right now anyways? I don’t want you to be late.”

Another thing you loved about your boyfriend, his relentless determination. His quirk is super scary, especially when there’s a villain on the receiving end. All it takes is one response and his victim’s mind is under his unrelenting grip, but his quirk requires rarely any combat efficiency.

Class 1-A’s homeroom teacher, Shouta Aizawa (more commonly known as the erasure hero, Eraserhead) took notice of Shinsou’s quirk and decided to mentor him due to the similarities in their quirks. And you sure as hell weren’t complaining. Your boyfriend has bulked up significantly, climbed the ranks of UA’s hero course, and gained a father figure in the two years he’s been under Aizawa’s wing.

“Chill kitty cat, he knows where I am.” Shinsoo’s response was nothing less than you expected from the laid back man. “He actually sentume to talk to you.” Another lazy smile and a hand through his unruly indigo locks, “You wanna come over to Eraser’s tonight? Mic is cookin’ his famous fried chicken.” His hopeful smile did strange things to your heart and sent butterflies swarming in your stomach.

You nodded your head enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, dude! I love those guys.” You manage to duck under your boyfriend’s arm and give him a tight hug, “Now go get all sweaty and stuff.”

Shinsou’s deep chuckle vibrated through you, “Alright babe, see you at seven?”

“You know it.” With a wink and a kiss blown your way, he was gone.

You made your way up the stairs leading to Eraserhead and Present Mic’s house, which was very humble for two Pro Heroes. At first it was very hard for you to imagine UA’s most polarizing teachers as a couple, but the more time you spent around the two the more you began to understand the couple’s dynamic. Hizashi’s rowdy and loud personality was perfectly balanced by Aizawa’s calm and sarcastic nature.

Unsurprisingly, as you rounded the corner and approached the front door, you could already hear Mic’s loud singing. Laughing to yourself, you ring the doorbell and wait patiently for someone to let you inside. You’re half an hour early but that’s nothing unusual, you usually arrive early to catch up with your favorite pros.

A few seconds later the door bursts open and you’re face to face with a much more laid back version of Present Mic than you’re used to. His golden hair is pulled back on the nape of his neck, his glasses are pushed down the bridge of his nose, and on top of his sweats and t-shirt he’s wearing an apron dusted with flour.

“OHHH YEAH!” You wince slightly as Mic’s quirk activates the tiniest bit. “Oops, sorry Y/n,” His cheeks are dusted with an embarrassed blush, “I get a little excited when I see our favorite student!”

You can’t help but giggle at Mic’s antics as he leads you into the kitchen. You hear a now-familiar sigh around the corner, “Zashi you’re lucky I’m not going to tell Shinsou he’s not your favorite.” Aizawa presses a tired kiss to his partner’s cheek and looks at you, “He’s in the shower Y/n, he should be out soon.”

“Thanks Mr. Aizawa. And thank you both for inviting me!”

The calmer of the pair smiles and chuckles, “I told you to call me Aizawa when we’re not at school, and family is welcome here anytime.” A small voice calls out from the living room. “I’ll be with Eri if anyone needs me.” You’re touched by Aizawa’s rare smile and kindness. Family? Behind those under-eye bags and that monstrous sleeping bag, he’s just a softy.

“Come on, listener! I’ve got a killer playlist and some chicken waitin’ to be fried.”Another plus to being Present Mic’s dinner guest? The music, of course.

Twenty minutes later and both you and Mic are staring at the chicken bubbling in the hot oil. His green eyes meet yours and blonde eyebrows wiggle behind his wire framed glasses, “You know what we need Y/n?”

You shake your head, not having a clue what the boisterous hero is talking about. He walks over to his phone, which is bluetoothed to the speakers scattered throughout the house, and scrolls through his music.

The first few beats of It’s Tricky by Run-DMC ring out, “Oh Shit!” your hands fly to your mouth, “Oh my gosh, Mic I’m so sorry! I just… I love this song.” You shoot a small smile his way, and to no one’s surprise he smiles back.

“You and me both, listener!” He jumps over to you, “Let’s dance!”

Present Mic has moves, you soon discover. With the music blaring in the kitchen, the two of you bust it down. No dance move is forgotten, new or old. The sprinkler is a crowd favorite, and the lawnmower is obviously a close second. Through fits of giggles and one very dramatic solo by the seasoned pro neither of you noticed your significant others step into the doorway of the kitchen.

As the song drew to an end, you’re met with two pairs of amused eyes and one very enthusiastic round of applause. You flush with embarrassment as you meet your boyfriend’s indigo eyes. His laughter can be heard over the next song on Mic’s playlist.

“Y/n!” Eri squeals and begins to wiggle in Shinsou’s arms, which you notice are bare. You raise an eyebrow towards his unclothed chest and still-wet hair.

“Hi Eri! C’mere.” You can’t help but beam as your boyfriend plops the little girl on her feet. “How have you been?” You pick her up and place a kiss on her forehead, encouraged by her loud giggles.

“I’m super good!” She smiles, “I loved your dance!” You give Eri lots of tiny kisses, all over her face.

“Thanks, Eri!” You redirect your attention to your boyfriend, “So nice of you to join us, Toshi.” You toss an easy smile his way.

“I heard there was a show, Y/n. I definitely couldn’t miss that.” His eyes never leave yours as they darken almost imperceptibly. His sweatpants left nothing to the imagination and he had yet to put on a shirt. Maybe Shinsou liked your show more than he let on. He runs his fingers through his damp hair, making sure his toned arms are on full display.

Aizawa, ever the referee, clears his throat,” The food smells amazing babe,” and damn it all to hell, “you’ve still got it Zashi.” He throws a wink at his blonde husband, who blushes in return. Like father, like son.

“Ewwww, Dad!” Eri whines, which causes everyone to laugh, “Can we pretty please eat? I’m hungry.”

Shinsou grabs a shirt off the back of a chair and puts it on quickly. He grabs Eri and spins her in the air, “Anything for the princess.” He blows a raspberry into her stomach and her giggles fill the kitchen.

“These kids.” Aizawa sighs and shares a secret smile with Hizashi. Shinsou looks at you again with a strange look in his expression.

The butterflies come back, stronger than ever.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boku no hero #shinsou imagine #bnha shinsou #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x y/n #erasermic #aizawa #present mic #case writes ;)

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aoifeanamadan · 4 years

Text

After School Special

Fandom: Minecraft YouTube rpf (mcyt)

Word count: 6488

Relationship: DreamNotFound (DreamxGeorgeNotFound)

Summary:

Montague versus Capulet, Taylor versus Katy, Dream versus George.

It was one of those fueds, the kind you barely even had to acknowledge. The sky is blue, we breathe air, Dream hated George.

Needless to say, neither of them were over the moon when they found out they had to spend two months working together in weekend detention.

Support this work on AO3 :)

Chapter Four: Hat Trick

Dream didn’t think texting George was meant to be this exciting. He didn’t think texting any of his friends was meant to be exciting point-blank . Not in the way texting George was. Every time his phone buzzed he was rushing to grab it, always on guard, always waiting. He had spent years calling his friends stupid for the way their faces lit up reading their phones. Now he was worse than all of them. But, it was different. This was George. And texting George was fun.

Dream was certain now that he was definitely funny. And he was smart, in the hard kind of way. He was unpredictable. Dream never knew what was coming. And he was nice to talk to. Every message sent, every message received, Dream felt them growing closer.

So, yeah, maybe his eyes were constantly scouring his phone screen. But he had a good reason. He was talking to George.

George, who said he didn’t normally talk to be people through the phone. He called it a handicapped form of communication, just as George-like as ever. Dream had forgotten to make fun of him for it, mind too busy with ‘ He doesn’t normally talk to people over the phone. He talks to you over the phone’. It meant he was special.

George (2:20 am)

i dont want to annoy you lol

Dream (2:20 am)

if you sending me memes at fuck o clock in the morning was annoying me i wouldn’t have kept sending them back

George didn’t read the message for a full minute. Staring at the tiny symbol, showing his message was unopened, Dream couldn’t bring himself to feel pathetic. In the back of his mind he thought he should, but the rest of him was buzzing. Every cell was humming with a new kind of want. He wanted to know what George thought, hear how he felt. It was overwhelming. There was no room left for shame.

George (2:23 am)

i dont want to keep you up

Dont you have that match tomorrow

Dream did. It was against ‘ Saint Joseph’s Preparatory Institute ’ a private school just half an hour away from Dream and George’s school. The kids there were spoiled in ways Dream found difficult to understand, summer homes in Italy and money thrown away on nights out in the city. The person Dream thought Geoge had been just two weeks ago was nothing compared to the Saint Joseph boys. It was as if all of them wanted to play God, a family of clashing entitled titans, a Grecian mess.

Dream was certain if anyone on his team brushed against one of their arms they’d be on the floor, crying for the referee. It was the first match of the season, only a challenge, but he had been preparing his boys for almost three weeks to make sure they didn’t give away any fouls. Even if it didn’t affect their standing in the league it would affect team morale. It was important. He wanted to win, just like he always did.

But, that night, Dream couldn’t have cared less. The match, less than 24 hours away, was pushed to the back of his brain. His entire frontal lobe was taken up with George’s words, glaring brightly up at him from his screen, awaiting Dream’s reply.

Dream (2:24 am)

ur coming right?

Dream hit send, he always did. He was a full-send person down to the bone. For him, it was easy. He did everything with complete confidence, full fucking send. He couldn't imagine it any other way, not when everyone was hanging off his every word. Shame was foreign to him.

But, the second he hit the arrow on that message, something foreign happened. His stomach knotted itself, his heart sped up. His eyes glued themselves to the screen, trapping him in the silence of his bedroom, waiting for any kind of reply. Dream didn’t understand why he cared so much about a stupid message.

No matter how hard he tried to tell himself to calm down, it didn’t work. His mind couldn’t be reasoned with. Logic was out the window, replaced with the thought of George standing on the sidelines while Dream scored a winning goal. His heart was in palpitations for an agonising 40 seconds. George’s message was the first morsel of food in a year to Dream’s hungry eyes.

George (2:24 am)

do you want me to

Dream was typing a response before he could think. He didn’t need to think.

Dream (2:24 am)

yes

It wasn’t until he sent it that he realised how it could be read. Desperate. It was overwhelming, this new way of thinking. Dream had never considered how other people might read his texts. His mind never had the time to consider how he was perceived, always racing away from him. This new thing, it was dwelling. Dream hadn’t dwelled before.

George (2:25 am)

okay

ill go then

everyone knows i love to spend my saturday evenings outside in the cold

Dream didn’t mean to grin the way that he did when he read the reply. He didn’t even notice the smile snaking its way onto his. He had never smiled at someone's texts before.

George (2:26 am)

what time

Dream didn’t mean to lie. But he did accidentally tell George to be there an hour early so they had more time, away from the pressure of his role as captain. By accident . He felt justified in his deceit, his new constant urge to make George his friend was enough to allow it. He wanted to be around him, talking and laughing, bickering and disagreeing and teasing. He wanted all of it, the before and after of the years of resentment. The new growing fondness that Dream was trying his best to ignore.

Above all, he wanted to be liked by George. He wanted the reassurance of his approval.

If George, who had hated him for years, who had been on the receiving end of his cold stares and scoffs, could like him then it would be sure. Dream could be certain that he was a good person.

They kept texting until George sent his death sentence, in the form of a digital message.

George (2:31 am)

go to sleep

And that was that. George’s status switched to inactive and Dream was left staring at the tiny dot where his green light used to be, the Daisy to his Gatsby.

Dream (2:31 am)

george

georgie

Dream forced himself to turn off his phone, it felt as if he was cutting off a hand. Giving up the hope of hearing anything more from George that night and accepting the isolation. But he could do it, almost happily, comforted by the knowledge he would see George the next day.

He recentered his weight and let his head sink into his pillow. It smelled old. Not bad, but old. Dream couldn’t stop himself from smiling, sad and gentle. He held his phone to his chest and squeezed. The metal didn’t move but his fingers ached with the force.

In the back of his mind, Dream realised it was dangerous. This smiling, this thing burrowing itself into his heart. But he couldn’t stop himself. He let himself imagine a world where he knew George fully, recognised every part of him as George. A jigsaw in the shape of a man where Dream knew the place of each part as if it were the back of his hand. It was a different kind of friendship than what Dream had known. He wanted to understand him, to uncover all the secrets he was holding so close to his chest. It felt as if knowing George was inevitable. And he wanted George to do the same to him, to see all of him and like it. To prove he could be known in full and still seen as himself, still Dream. Still human.

Dream didn’t feel himself falling asleep but he didn’t wake up until 3 in the afternoon, his phone still lying over his heart.

Sapnap collected him before George, so he had time to explain his misleading statement before George got in the truck clueless at half four in the afternoon, three hours before the match started.

George understood what had happened once they arrived at the empty pitch. Dream was thankful he had briefed Sapnap before their arrival, because without Sapnap there he was convinced he would have ended up in a morgue.

Once George had accepted and made peace with the situation, that is to say 95 minutes and multiple very stern telling offs later, Dream and Sapnap decided the only natural thing to do was warm up an hour early.

With a ball from Sapnap’s truck, they started to pass gently to each other. George only managed to claim he couldn’t play for 10 minutes before Dream and Sapnap convinced him to join in.

Dream had been sure George was exaggerating his incompatibility with the sport. Fundamentally, it was just kicking a ball. But Dream was very wrong. Dream tried to tip him the ball, a gentle touch, but somehow George still fumbled it. He managed to stand on the ball three times before kicking it past Sapnap.

They spend half an hour trying to explain the basics of soccer to an increasingly annoyed George, who thanked God when the real team started to trickle in. It meant he was released from the seventh circle of hell - soccer drills

Dream went through the motions of his pre-match routine; the warm-up and laughter and tieing of boots. The coach, their chemistry teacher, arrived ten minutes before the match started. Dream gave a particularly rousing speech and then suddenly they were in the tunnel, waiting for the referee to call them onto the field.

Normally, the time in the tunnel made any other time spent on the field feel tiny, irrelevant. It was a place that didn’t obey the laws of time. Four seconds in the tunnel made a month on the field feel like maybe ten minutes.

That day, Dream had spent three hours on the field before the match. Normally, the tunnel would have made that feel like a millisecond. A blip.

But, Dream could recall the hours spent easily. He barely had to think before George yelling at him and Sapnap rushed to mind. George trying to score a goal from the penalty line, with no goalie, and somehow hitting the crossbar . George’s sigh of relief when he saw one of the players approaching to relieve him of his place in the drill. It was all cased in amber in Dream’s brain. It was proof that he had prepared for this match. There was a time before it and there would be a time after.

Standing on the tunnel, waiting to be called out to play the first match of the year, Dream was calm.

Before he could think too deeply, Sapnap turned to Dream. His eyes were almost pleading. He grabbed ream by the shoulders and tried to look deep into his soul.

“Promise me that you won't start any fights this time.” Dream couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He never started fights, but he replied anyway to put Sapnap at ease.

“I promise I won’t start any fights.” Sapnap breathed a sigh of relief, ever the drama queen.

“Thank you.” Sapnap turned to head to the team huddle, everyone waiting for Dream’s final good luck. Before Sapnap could walk away Dream grinned, lopsided and hyper.

“I will finish them though.”

Dream was walking out before Sapnap could protest, the team behind him. Dream didn’t want to prolong their wait any longer. They knew what he was going to say, and he knew they didn't need to hear it. The atmosphere changed the second the crowd could see them

Oakland had walked out stiff and straight-backed. Proper as always. Beside them, Dream and his team’s causal jogs and crowd-pleasing waves were even more charming. Dream allowed himself a moment to revel in the cheers before locking his eyes on the ball.

Once he adjusted to the floodlights, Dream’s eyes raked over the crowds until they locked on George, leaning on the low fence. He shot him his lopsided grin and waved. He was charm personified. The crowd’s heads swivelled in search of the recipient, but no one looked at George smiling as he rolled his eyes.

Once the whistle was blown, the team came alive. The state champions ran circles around Oakwood. Dream was two-thirds of the way to his aspired hat trick by half time, with the total score at 4 - nil. Their team worked seamlessly together, everyone exactly where they needed to be. It was like watching a well-oiled machine, or embroidery at super speed.

Dream and Sapnap were shining through, their natural chemistry turned to telepathy on the soccer field. It was as if the ball was a piece of metal and they were the magnets. It stuck to them, gravitated to their feet.

By the second half, Oakwood were angry. It showed in their game. They started to slip up, losing easy balls. Their footwork got sloppy. But they also got more aggressive. Somehow, the referee was turning a blind eye to every misplaced kick and accidental shove in the back. But, Dream had trained everyone for this. They stayed calm, took their deep deep breaths and played fair.

Oakwood did not take the same approach. The more time they spent on the field, the rougher they played. Dream had cycled through six of the ten substitutes by the time the second half rolled around. He was convinced the referee had optional cataracts.

With twenty minutes left, Dream’s team were 3 goals up - the only three goals of the match. But, Dream was still a goal away from his hat trick, and he was getting tired.

The rest of the team was playing defence, just like Dream had told them to do during training. He had said it would be stupid to go for glory in this situation, three goals up and approaching the end of the match. It would be plain dumb.

Dream knew all this, thought about it even. He knew it was right, but he saw an Oakland striker, who he was not supposed to be marking, running up the field. He didn’t have the ball, it was on the opposite end of the pitch, but Dream could see it in his mind’s eye. Two easy, unlikely passes and it would be at the striker’s open feet.

There were other boys closer to him, it would’ve made more sense for them to run to mark him. It would have been easy. But Dream couldn’t stop thinking of the one goal he needed for a hat trick.

Aching feet and heaving lungs Dream ran towards him. The striker saw him coming from a mile off.

His leg connected with Dream’s, and suddenly Dream was on the floor clutching his shin.

At first, there was no feeling. Then, just as suddenly as the air had left Dream’s lungs when he hit the floor, there was intense pain.

Dream looked down at his leg, curled up on the floor. He couldn’t hear the referee’s whistle blowing. But he could see the blood.

Before he could make a scene, he was pushing himself up unto his feet. The Oakwood striker didn’t offer him a hand up.

Dream was sent off to the sidelines, limping with an arm around Sapnap’s shoulder. Someone’s mother was a nurse. She assured him it was just a surface wound. Dream saw his parents in the stand, he hadn’t noticed them before. He would’ve waved weakly, or shot them a thumbs up, but he couldn’t focus on them. His mind was racing through anger and pain and anger again.

From the bench, Dream nodded to Sapnap to take the penalty. It wasn’t a question.

He had to sit the final fifteen minutes out, screaming from the bench. The only benefit was George’s spot in the crowd behind him was right behind the bench. He was sitting with his friends, making sarcastic comments about Oakwood. It was nice to listen to, distracting.

With Oakwood playing a man down, the team won 4 - 0.

After the obligatory post-win speech, Dream enjoyed a long warm shower in the changing rooms. It was a scarce rarity for him, only his third long shower in the changing block in four years.

After, Dream was alone in the dressing room, all aching muscles and sore lungs. He was sitting on the bench, legs shaking with the exhaustion of it all. His hair was wet and his shoulders were slumped. There was a low humming echoing off the concrete walls. Dream barely noticed it. He had screwed his eyes tightly shut and had his head hanging between his shoulders. He was waiting there until it was firmly ten minutes since anyone had left, just like he always did. And he was humming, which he did not always do.

It was coming from the base of his throat. The tune of ‘Call Me Maybe’ was raspy, hidden under his breath. But it was there, soft and delicate. The rise and fall, the soft lilts. It made the cold of air of the changing room warmer, familiar. He didn’t think about it, didn’t imagine he would be heard. He just sat there, hair dripping and voice humming. It was tender and charged, too patient.

Hey, I just met you,

And this is crazy,

“Well done, you. You did great” George’s voice came from the doorway, distant and delicate. It shattered Dream’s bubble of gentle calm.

Dream’s brain froze. It caught him off guard, disarmed him. The softness of George’s tone. Too genuine. Before he could unfreeze his mind to think about it, George was talking again.

“Except when you fell. That was embarrassing.”

Dream lifted his head from the wall and cracked open his eyes. George was smiling softly at him. It made Dream feel as if he was bending back his ribs one by one to get a closer look at his panting heart. He couldn’t quite bring himself to stand.

“Brave words Mr Speed Chess.” This was easy, this was Dream and George. Sharp banter and too intense bickering. It was easier than the alternative, the thing Dream wanted once the sun went down. The symbiotic vulnerability.

Dream realised just how tired he really was, listening to his own fragile voice. He was sure George had to have noticed it too. He was sure his smile was too soft, his words too tender to be teasing.

He didn’t know what it was, this new wall he was building. This refusal to let George see him vulnerable. Dream tried to rationalise, call to mind the years of hatred and distrust. It didn’t work, he was met with the hours he and George had spent laughing, the simple rhythm they had so quickly fallen into. George’s quiet jokes, Dream’s beaming grin. There was no reason for this guard Dream was invoking. Yet still, he couldn’t stop it. The hand always hovering over his mouth, ready to slap it closed.

Sapnap was coming in behind George before Dream could leave himself exposed.

“I swear to God, whenever I see you two together it’s like I get to watch a chihuahua provoke a wolfhound." Sapnap was next to George in the doorway, grinning. Dream smiled back, heaving himself up off the bench. Dream wasn’t sure if he was meant to be the chihuahua or wolfhound.

“Fuck off, Sapnap.” He muttered it at the same time as George, shouldering his way past them towards Sapnap’s truck.

“You two are the closest thing I have to a real-life soap opera!” Sapnap was calling out as he followed behind. Despite his best efforts, Dream smiled.

Once the three of them were in the truck, they could really talk. Sapnap and Dream were trying to convince George to come to a party at one of the player’s houses in place of their normal bickering. It was only right to celebrate the win, but George was insisting he couldn’t go.

Dream and Sapnap had matching that’s bullshit looks on their faces,

Through a mix of begging and empty threats, they managed to get George to agree to come inside, just to congratulate the team.

He stuck to his word, entering, finding the team all together in the front room and saying a single ‘Great Game’. Then, he turned on his heel and made his way to the front door with his head down. Sapnap and Dream rushed after him.

By the time they caught up, his hand was on the doorknob. But, before he pulled it, he was turning his head to the space on his left. Dream and Sapnap were still standing in the doorway to his right.

“Bad?” Bad’s face lit up as he abandoned his conversation to turn towards George.

“George!” He ran to hug a laughing George.

“Since when were you the partying type?”

“Since when were you?”

Dream and Sapnap couldn’t believe they had forgotten to tell him Bad would be there.

Twenty minutes in, George was on his fifth shot. Dream and Sapnap looked like Christmas had come early. Bad looked like a concerned father spotting his child in the boxing ring with Muhammad Ali.

“George, oh my God! What are you doing?” George was drinking straight from the vodka bottle while Sapnap and George watched.

George kept drinking from the bottle until Bad took it off him.

“It’s been a boring week. I'm about to fix that.” Dream had never seen George like this.

George’s grin was devilish, the kind that would have made Dream’s heart flutter and stomach drop if he was a girl. But he was not a girl. And so he thought nothing of George’s gleaming teeth and impish eyes. Nothing.

One thing Dream realised, an hour into the party, was that George was just as clumsy with his mouth when he was drunk as his limbs when he was sober.

Dream was standing in one of the doorways to the kitchen, talking to a girl. She was nice. She liked swimming and pc gaming, not worlds away from Dream. He figured they could be friends. She left to dance with her friends and Dream left to get himself another drink. George was standing next to the spirits.

“She’s not good for you. She was a dick to my friends last year. Hell, even I would be better for you and you hate me”

He hated the way George made his breath stop with stupid comments like that. Dream gritted his teeth.

“Don’t hate you anymore, Georgie.” His shoulders were stiffer than he wanted them to be.

George grinned back at him and drawled.

“For now, Dreamer.”

That fucking grin, sprawling between his aristocratic cheekbones. And that fucking nickname. He hated the way it made his stomach flip, acrobatic routines in the pit of his stomach. Dreamer, Dreamer, Dreamer . A mantra.

“Are you drunk, George?”

George opened his mouth, ready to deny it, but the cogs of his brain snapped his mouth closed before he could get the words out.

“You know what? Nevermind, you’ll know I’m lying to you anyway.”

Dream didn’t know what it was, the resignation in George’s voice, the gentle familiarity. It made him mad. He made it make him mad, because the alternative was wobbly knees and blushing cheeks. And George didn't have the power to do that to him.

George grabbed his arm, slender fingers gripping strong.

“Come on, let’s dance.” He started to pull him towards the front room, where the speakers were.

“Wait, George, wait,” Dream pulled George back to him gently. He was still clinging to his arm. Dream shrugged him off as softly as he could. His touch felt like hot coals, the way it made Dream’s skin burn. He couldn’t handle it.

“Why?” Dream didn’t like the disappointment painted all over George, stitched on his face and laced through his muscles. He couldn’t hide his emotions the way he normally did. Not here, not drunk and tired looking as if he wanted to beg Dream to dance. Dream had to explain.

“I can’t dance.” George’s face didn’t change.

“Yeah, why?” He was looking up at him expectantly, which had not been the plan.

“What do you- I’m bad at it. I can’t dance.” Dream gestured to his long legs and stretched arms. George’s face lit up, a lightbulb moment. Dream realised, George had thought he couldn’t dance because of his injured shin. He cursed himself internally for not being more dramatic.

“You don’t have to be good at something to do it, Dream. Dancing at parties is fun. It’s like exercise, but for your brain.” George pointed to his two temples with both hands, grinning. Not the plan.

“It’s very literally exercise for your body.” Dream didn’t realise there was a smile on his face.

“Fine, it’s exercise for your soul. Now, come on. Dance with me.”

Dream managed to down a shot while he was dragged out by George, it felt like fire down his raw throat. Before he could say no, George was pulling him to the speakers. Dream didn’t dance, he had never known how to. His limbs were too jerky, arms too awkward. And bad dancing didn’t fit the Dream image , not cool and nonchalant enough.

But George was looking up at him with a messy grin and the speakers were thumping and the bodies around him were thrumming. He tried to justify it to himself, the lights were low, no one would see him, but Dream couldn’t have said no in a million years. Not to George, not there, not then.

It was easy to tell the song was on its outro as Dream and George stumbled in. Dream laughed easily at his accidental win.

“Oh no! There goes that idea. Come on, let’s find Sapnap and Bad.” He went to tug George out, but George tugged him back. It caught Dream off balance, making him stumble after George to keep from falling.

George rolled his eyes, slinking his way to the boy with the aux cord and dragging Dream with him.

“Hey, Toby, what’s up?” George talked to the boy, who he was apparently friendly with. Dream knew he went to their school, but he didn’t know the boy. If George hadn’t just said his name, he would’ve had no idea. He stood awkwardly behind George, unsure whether or not he should introduce himself. He was too caught up in the unfamiliar awkwardness to listen to what they were saying. Before he knew it, George was smiling Toby a thanks and dragging him back into the crowd.

“What was that about?” Dream had to bend down to whis[er into George’s ear. George didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

The iconic opening of Carly Rae Jepsen's ‘Call Me Maybe’ started to play. Dream couldn’t stop the barking laugh he let out. George smiled so widely Dream was sure his cheeks would rip open.

Dream wasn’t sure if it was the shots, or the crowds or the boy standing open and soft before him, but he felt the hardened rock around his muscles and tendons melt away. He couldn’t dance, but he could sway next to George while Carly Rae Jepsen sang one of her masterpieces.

George was his only salvation from the heaving, living heat of the crowd. His flushed face and ruined hair were all Dream could see. He tried his casual swaying, but George’s energy called for more.

Dream couldn’t help but sing along.

I threw a wish in a well,

I looked at you as it fell.

George was not a great dancer, really he just flailed and hopped. He yelled to the beat and flung his arms about him. Dream had to apologise on his behalf to a girl he had accidentally whacked. She didn’t acknowledge it.

Dream realised, no one there cared. Everyone just wanted to dance. Dream looked to George, laughing and jumping to the mirage of singing violins. It was all so intense, Dream couldn’t resist it.

His thudding, thumping body didn’t quite match George’s plasmic flow. His muses thrashed with the musical pulses, throat raw from the singing. No matter how loud he was, everyone around him was louder.

It felt like indulgence, sweeping slowly over his skin and through his veins. He had to choose to let himself enjoy it.

His dancing was horrible, but George loved it. Dream felt like it was a newfound candour, this allowance. He was bad, he was having fun. There was no contradiction. He could do both.

Where you think you’re going, baby?

Dream’s thudding stomps didn’t match George’s rough edged-grace, but he was there. And he was dancing. It felt like a win. It felt human, more human than Dream had felt in days. In those three minutes, he wasn’t the Dream. He was just another person.

He felt like one cell in the body of a giant, doing the same as everyone around him, but for the first time he liked it. He was doing the same as George, who was jumping offbeat.

But here’s my number, so call me maybe?

Dream’s panting chest felt like it was holding corporal freedom inside it. He thought his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his cell wall chest and soar away.

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad.

I missed you so, so bad.

Dream couldn’t believe he had ever thought George was restrained and standoffish.

The George Dream had thought he had known for years, detached and reserved, quiet and reclusive; Dream watched in his mind as he died and was replaced with this new man. This new George had an unrelenting mind and thrashing heart. It fit perfectly with Dream’s aching body and delicate soul. There, sweating next to George as he sang his throat raw, Dream was sure George had to be his missing part. His final puzzle piece. If there was an empty cave in Dream he would stretch and chip away at it until it was the perfect size for George to settle in.

As the song ended, Dream tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts. His brain felt like a smoothie. Before he could take an internal inventory, Sapnap was beside him. It was easy to guide a panting Dream and George away from the dance floor and down a quiet hall, muttering about ‘totally unlike you, both of you’.

Dream couldn’t process the moving. He shut his eyes to keep it out, only opening his eyes for sporadic flashes of the house. He knew they were going down a hall together, but it all blended into one.

Sapnap got more and more excited the closer they got to the end of the hall. When he finally opened the last door, he was practically hopping.

Dream’s muddied brain recognised it as some kind of game’s room, like the basement in Sapnap’s old house. There was an easily ignored pool table, and on the pool table was an open bottle.

George got to the bottle first. He offered it to Dream and Sapnap before drinking from it. He coughed and spluttered as it went down.

“Gin.” His grimace was enough to deter them all.

Sapnap found a VR headset, the kind none of them had at home. They had to arm wrestle for it. Sapnap won, through methods involving plain cheating if you asked Dream. He had kicked Dream’s blooded shin ‘accidentally ’ mid-wrestle and refused a rematch. George hadn’t wanted to get involved.

Sapnap got to play on the VR first.

George was a nice drunk to be around. He wasn’t loud or annoying or excitable. He was just George, but less guarded. He thought out loud about the universe and the human condition and why goldfish were called goldfish when they were orange. Dream sat cross-legged in front of him while he spoke, slow and heavy. His brain felt cloudy, but in a nice way. A buffer between Dream and George, and everything else.

George liked to do things wrong. The more he talked about random things, the clearer it became. He ate pasta at breakfast time. He sat on chairs backwards and sideways and even upside down, laying his back on the seat and letting the blood rush to his head. He used his conditioner before his shampoo.

Dream tried to tell him, tried to enlighten him that he was living wrong.

“Well, I’m doing perfectly fine.”

Dream didn’t know how George managed to slip this gentle tenderness into everything he did. He swapped from sitting cross-legged to lying down, sprawling like a starfish. Dream did the same. He could feel their fingers brushing against each other.

Sapnap was immersed in his own digital world, but Dream was sure they were feeling the same thing, total separation from reality It was as if he and George had escaped time. They just lay there on the dirty carpet together, fingertips barely brushing.

“Ow!” The serenity didn’t last long. Sapnap had walked into a wall.

George laughed aloud. “That's going to hurt in the morning.”

Sapnap held up his middle finger, in the wrong direction. The headset was still on.

“It hurts now, idiot.” Dream grinned between them. He wasn’t used to their friendship.

“Well, at least you did your best!” Dream tried to give his positive input from his position on the floor. Sapnap shuddered.

“God, I hope not.” He went into the game again.

Dream turned his body back to the ceiling, but it wasn’t the same. The bubble was popped and he couldn’t stitch it back together.

Instead, he sat up to face George again so they could talk.

Ten minutes later, Sapnap was still alive and thriving in the game, while Dream and George were falling back into the natural rhythm of their conversations.

“Why did you think I hated you?” George’s voice was a rock skimmed on the pond of quiet. Dream was laying back on the couch, eyes again locked on the ceiling. It made it easier, not having to look at George on the other end of the couch. Their feet were tangled together. George was being gentle with Dream’s recovering shin. Dream didn’t think about it before replying.

“Didn’t you?” He didn’t see the gentle shake of George’s head.

“No. If anything, you hated me.” His voice bounced from the ceiling to Dream’s ears. Dream sat up to face him, ceiling tainted.

“No I didn’t. No, I don’t.” It was Dream’s turn now to shake his head. He wanted to lean forward and tell George a hundred times. He didn’t, he doesn’t.

“Okay, Dream.” George hadn’t sat up, still staring at the white ceiling.

Neither of them said anything for a minute. Dream looked at George, George looked up. Dream couldn’t handle the quiet, the noncommitment in George’s voice. He needed to fix it. He spoke into the silence.

“You just, you stopped talking to me. Like, overnight. So, I just thought you hated me.” Dream couldn’t keep looking at him. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes. He wished he hadn’t had that vodka. It was shoving cotton in his mouth and down his throat. There was morphine in his lips, he couldn’t get his words out.

“Yeah. I was anxious. I wasn’t talking to anyone.” George’s gaze was deadset, not on Dream.

“Well, you ignored me. I thought you hated me.” Dream tried to justify himself to George, to rationalise his behaviour at nine years old. George just hummed.

“So all of that, the years of dirty looks and rolling eyes, it was because I hurt your feelings by being too quiet?” George finally looked at him. Dream couldn’t believe he had ever wanted him to. His eyes were cold stone.

“Don’t say it like that.” Dream wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. His voice sounded small. Sapnap still had the headset on, he couldn’t hear them. He wasn’t coming to save him.

“Well, how would you say it, Dream?” George was still staring at him. Dream wanted to sew his eyes shut.

“I-” He looked away, but found himself looking back in George’s eyes before speaking again. “You weren’t just quiet . You ignored me.” It was all too quiet.

“You were too busy for me Dream. I wanted to be your friend, for years. Don’t try and spin this as if I dropped you. You couldn’t deal with me being quiet, with me going through a hard time. You needed my attention, you wanted it, 24/7. You were selfish.”

Dream couldn’t speak. He felt like someone was sucking the air slowly from his lungs and then the last traces of oxygen from his blood. George stood up and it was the final kick.

Sapnap must have sensed the movement, because just then he took off the headset.

“I think I saw some of my friends in another room. I’m going to go and say hi.”

“Hey, we’re your friends.” Dream had no idea how Sapnap knew to make his voice so soft at that moment. He had always had a sixth sense for those things.

“Yeah.” Dream managed to choke the word out.

“Come on Dream. Sometimes I think if you saw me bleeding out on your kitchen floor, you’d act like you hadn’t seen me.” George smiled tightly to Sapnap and left.

Dream let him go. He hated the tightness in his chest, the bitter taste in his mouth. He made himself feel angry in a way he knew he didn’t deserve to be. For the first time in his life, he knew George was right about what had happened. A lot of it had been his fault.

#mcyt #mcyt fic #dnf #dreamnotfound #dreamsmp #dream/george #dreamxgeorge #psa i actually dont ship them i just like creative writing and heat waves made me obsessed with their characters #dream #georgenotfound

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