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suna-reversed · 4 years

Note

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie, or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness]

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same.

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin.

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher,

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself,

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him”

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about.

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out.

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string.

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes.

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened.

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face.

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something,

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt.

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance.

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing?

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis.

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting.

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?”

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

- “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”-

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far.

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjkxreader #jujutsukaisenxreader #yujiitadori #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #itadori x reader #sukuna #sukuna headcanons #jjk headcanons #sukuna smut #gojo saturo x reader #jujutsu Kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #sukunafluff

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eyeless-cunt · 4 years

Text

This should be fun

TW/CW: Unhealthy relationships, Possession, Obsession, Biting, Marking, Very Slight gore, spitting, cock warming, choking, throat fucking, glove kink, finger fucking, slight teasing, drool kink, oral (both receiving) ...monster fucking hehe

Yandere Ej is an entirely different ballpark than normal Ej. He likes more...severe forms of his previous kinks. Normal Ej? Would never hurt you—never. He knows he could kill you. Yandere Ej? He absolutely loves sinking his teeth into you every chance he gets. Not because he likes hurting you (although being the only one that can hurt you is...an appealing thought) but because he really likes marking you. It’s basically the sole motivation and driving force behind all of his actions. Having you as a possession. Not very wholesome.

He’s manipulative and absolutely disgusting—not that you, his obsession, will ever find that part out. You’ll never be any the wiser, thinking that at most...yeah sometimes your boyfriend acts...odd (psychotic) in bed but...you love him and he’s a perfect person at any other time. He’s the sweetest person you’ve ever been with, and he’s a god at aftercare. So I mean, his odd behavior at certain times doesn’t really matter, does it? Not when he brings you the prettiest flowers the next day after work, or that book you’ve been eyeing for a week. Not when he lets you pick the movie and takes you out to eat whatever you want. Not when he shoves his gloved fingers all the way to the back of your throat as you choke on them, drooling around him.

Certainly not when he sits you in his lap as you play your favorite online game, his hands wrapping around you as he presses his head into your neck, his teeth pressing down on every spot he knows will make you squirm. I mean—who’s ever treated you this well? You’ve never met anyone that listens to you like he does. Maybe you like being spoiled more than you should, and maybe you’re starting to like the sex way more than anyone should, but who cares, really? Who cares that his teeth are abnormally—scarily sharp—or that his skin is an ashy gray color that feels so otherworldly and ethereal. Why should you care that he doesn’t have eyes? After all, he gets around easier than you do. Why should you care about how your lover looks?

Maybe there’s something about looking down at him as he spreads you open, his empty black sockets seemingly looking through you—his nails that seem to be almost claws gripping you so that you can’t move an inch. Maybe there’s something lying dormant deep under the surface as you grip the sheets like your life depends on it, his face buried deep in you, things buried even deeper, that you don’t ever question. It’s rude to ask if the ‘accident’ affected his tongue(s), right? Your sure it’s plural because there’s no possible way a normal human singular tongue is filling you up the way it is right now. But you don’t ask. You never do. Your boyfriend is perfect.

He’s got a body that makes you drool, he always smells so nice (occasionally like old copper—you don’t question that either), he’s the kindest person you’ve ever met, he’s funny and so intelligent it’s scary. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with him. You begin to think that even if he isn’t human you don’t care very much. You don’t care as he sinks you down on his cock slowly, his hands gripping your hips as he pushes you down. You don’t care as he sits there, teasing you—saying how he’s not gonna move and you’re both gonna sit here like until he feels like moving. You don’t care that he likes sinking his teeth into you—despite it hurting every single time. The way he licks your wounds like an animal, and the even more animal like sounds that escape him as he thrusts into your mouth, the gagging sounds you make only spurring him on. You don’t care that he spits some sort of gross liquid into your mouth—something that tastes foul. The way it slides down your throat as his hands circle your neck and squeeze.

Maybe you should take a moment to stop and think....is this all? Is this only the beginning? If you come to any other answer besides ‘No’, then I’d say you’re too far gone by this point. You’re probably just as obsessed with him as he is with you. Tragic.

#creepypasta #eyeless jack #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcannons #eyeless jack x reader #creepypasta smut #pp warning #ask #yandere eyeless jack #yandere x reader #yandere #yancore #lovecore #yandere smut

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wonjaekook · 4 years

Text

One Minus One Plus One

Pairing: college student!Mark x college student!reader

Description: In all of the years you’ve known Jungwoo, you should have figured out to not take his words at face value because, though you haven’t even met, Mark Lee seems to hate your guts.

Word Count: 9.9k

Genre: kind-of-enemies to lovers! fluff? angst? humor? I honestly don’t know how to categorize this

Warnings: vaguely suggestive ending, some minor swearing

A/N: This is my (late) holiday gift for a friend and to you all, I suppose. It’s an enemies-to-lovers but not really, as they’re not really enemies and it’s more passive-aggressive!Mark and very confused!Y/N. To the intended - I love and appreciate you so much; thank you for always supporting me and listening to me ramble about even the most ridiculous ideas <3 If you ever need anything, I hope you know that you can always shoot me a text or DM! Please enjoy c:

Mark Lee is always sweet. It’s the kind of sweetness that’s warm and fulfilling, leaving a pleasant feeling in the pit of the stomach, like a steaming up of hot chocolate rather than a strikingly sweet popsicle. His nature isn’t something he particularly prides himself on, as it’s partially unintentional, driven by awkwardness and politeness at times, or by the compulsion to simply make people happy. Jungwoo has told him that he’s allowed to be a little more selfish once in a while, he’s allowed to say no and take breaks sometimes. Except, he’s ever the people pleaser, ever the hard worker, ever the yes-man. Mark Lee is always sweet.

Except when he isn’t.

You’re fairly certain that Mark Lee has hated you since before you even met him. When you decide to transfer to the same university that your high school best friend Jungwoo attends, he talks your ear off about all of his great friends and all of the places he is going to take you and all of the fun you’ll have. He’s always been the descriptive type, telling you far too much about his good pals Mark, Donghyuck, Johnny, Taeil, Jaehyun, Kun, Lucas… and countless others, whose names you sometimes have a hard time keeping track of. Jungwoo has a lot of friends, something which has remained true since high school. Whenever you catch up with him, he speaks particularly fondly about Mark, who is one of his roommates and someone he considers to be one of his closest friends.

“You’ll love him,” he says, “but not too much, I hope. That would be super weird, you and Mark.” He wrinkles his nose at that and doesn’t make any more abnormal comments. You don’t think much of it.

In short, you let Jungwoo decide your opinion on Mark Lee before you ever met him. With everything else about moving to a completely different university occupying the majority of your thoughts, it’s easy enough to accept that Mark will be awkward and painfully sweet and that you will become fast friends. That’s your first mistake.

Before you even finish moving in, Jungwoo drags you over to his place to meet some of his friends, who he insists will become your own. It’s just past noon and he claims that everyone will be awake and ready to greet you once you get there. He’s half right, in the sense that only half of the apartment is awake. The early-risers, who Jungwoo didn’t even have to shake before he came over to get you, are at the table in their common area, sipping on various caffeinated beverages. These consist of Mark and Jaehyun. Donghyuck is presumably still curled up in his bed, asleep after a late night of playing games, and Johnny, who had stayed overnight and doesn’t actually live with them, is passed out on their couch, an arm slung over his face to block the light. Your friend has shown you enough pictures for you to recognize them.

Jungwoo practically deflates as soon as he walks in to see only two members of the current household conscious. “This is why we can’t have nice things,” he grumbles before striding over to Johnny and yanking off the blanket covering his long torso.

The elder groans, clearly having only been dozing and not deeply asleep, and moves his arm so he can glare at Jungwoo. “Your disrespect for my sleep schedule is why we can’t have nice things.”

“You don’t have a sleep schedule,” Jungwoo says back, glaring at his friend with the blanket in his hand. “Plus, Y/N’s here.”

Johnny lazily looks over and sees you in the entranceway, to which his response is to roll slightly so that he’s propped up against the back of the couch with one leg crossed over the other rather than just lying down. “Sup. Name’s Johnny.”

“Ew, don’t use your flirting voice!” Jungwoo whines at his friend, kicking him in the shin. In all honesty, you’re both amused and slightly flattered that Johnny is attempting to flirt with you when he’s just woken up. The messy hair is kind of a look. “Y/N’s a friend.”

“Yeah, we’ll be good friends, alright,” Johnny says, looking directly at you and wiggling his eyebrows in the most ridiculous way. That gets a giggle out of you while Jungwoo gawks, kicking Johnny again for good measure, slightly harder this time.

Jungwoo looks like he’s about to start arguing again when Jaehyun kindly interrupts, shifting the conversation. He gives you a small smile, perfectly polite and handsome, his hair straight and soft over his forehead. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun.”

You lower your head to acknowledge him. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You look towards the other boy at the table, who you now realize hasn’t glanced up at you once. Jaehyun had been at least half watching the mock fight between Jungwoo and Johnny, but Mark had just been staring at his cup from behind circular glasses, not even drinking it. His own hair is slightly damp, curling at the ends, making him appear somewhat young. “You’re Mark, right?”

Finally, he looks at you, but looks away quickly. “Yeah.”

That’s… that’s not right.

You try again, smiling as brightly as you can, even though he won’t glance in your direction again. His side profile is full of both soft shapes and hard angles, afternoon sunlight coming in through the window falls as highlights on his cheeks and nose and chin. He appears exactly as your friend had described him to you, but his attitude proves him to be a walking contradiction. You shift on your feet, grasping for the right words to say. “Jungwoo has told me a lot about you.”

“Uh… yeah. He’s told me about you, too.”

You almost outright frown at that. Isn’t he supposed to be super nice and friendly? Instead, it sounds like Jungwoo has been spreading all sorts of nasty stories about you. Hypothetical stories that, apparently, only Mark has been listening to. Neither Jaehyun nor Johnny are acting strangely towards you at all.

All three of the other boys do seem to notice the change in behavior for Mark, though. There are a few moments of tense silence before Johnny elbows Jungwoo. The latter speaks up. “Hey, Mark, can you go resurrect Donghyuck? I think he might be dead.”

The switch is instant and very startling to you. His face loses all of its tension as he looks at Jungwoo, nodding. “Yeah, sure. If I don’t come back in ten minutes, I’m the one who’s dead.” He pushes himself up out of his chair and exits the common area.

After he’s gone, you look at Jungwoo. He stares back. You make a motion with your head towards the front door, where you retreat to and he follows. You stand somewhat stiffly, hands linked behind your back. “Did you say something to him? About me?”

Jungwoo puts his hands up defensively. “Nothing bad, I swear!” He looks back towards the common area. “He must just be having a bad day or something…”

That doesn’t explain the sudden warmth when someone else spoke to him, though. You frown. “Okay… I guess I’ll just have to try harder to get him to like me.”

Your friend seems to perk up at that. “That’s the spirit!” He proceeds to grab you by the shoulders and steer you back to the common area.

You have an amiable enough time chatting with the boys who had remained there. Eventually, Donghyuck emerges from his room, looking even more ruffled than Johnny had, and Mark shuffles out with him. Once again, he doesn’t even spare you a glance. Every so often, as you’re talking to the others or just listening to their strange, all-over-the-place conversations, your eyes flicker over to him. He contributes to the chatter, but it’s like he’s purposefully avoiding you, even though you’re literally in the room with him. It kind of hurts.

Still, you try not to let it bother you too much. An hour passes, which you realize with a start, and you remember that you’re not even nearly done unpacking. As you’re rising from your seat on the edge of the couch, Jungwoo throws a comment out to you. “You’re welcome to bust in here any time!”

He’s met with a chorus of agreement from the others, except one.

The next day, Jungwoo makes a point to introduce you to the rest of his circle. Not long after, you’re added to a group chat with a whole phonebook of unfamiliar numbers. Most of them, minus several who your friend had told you in the past do a poor job of checking their messages, send their names pretty quickly. Jungwoo tells you who the others are. With a pang of disappointment, you realize one of the missing numbers was Mark.

On your first day of classes, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you share an economics lecture with Donghyuck, who acts both very tired and also full of energy, chatting your ear off before and after class, but looking as if he’s about to pass out when the professor gives her introduction and starts to go over course material. That day, you also learn that you have an ethics class with Jungwoo’s friend Doyoung, stoic and serious and exactly the opposite of Donghyuck, but still smiling at your lame jokes and carefully making sure you get the homework down.

The second day starts out much more slowly. You settle down for your third class, a curriculum development course, and it takes you about a solid minute to realize that Mark Lee is sitting in the room with you. He had come in while you were busily typing out a text to a friend from your previous university. The classroom is not particularly large and you had taken a seat near the middle, so there aren’t many places for him to hide. When he walks in, he takes a seat by the wall closest to the windows. You consider greeting him, walking to his desk to try and talk to see if he had a change of attitude from the last time you saw him, but then your professor enters the scene. As he passes by the far side of the room, Mark looks up from his own phone and smiles, mouth instantly opening to greet him. You stay in your seat and try to look busy as you listen to them chat amiably. Mark laughs in disbelief at something your professor says about his vacation.

At the end of the lecture, you pack up your things quickly and make the effort to take a few small, light steps to catch up to Mark, who’s already leaving. “Hi, Mark! I didn’t realize we had a class together.”

He gives you a sort of half-shrug, keeping his head pointed straight ahead. Almost imperceptibly, his pace increases. “I guess we do.”

He opens a door to a stairwell, not making any particular effort to hold the door for you. Reflexively, you grab the door and slip through after him. You try again as the two of you head down. “Are you going to be home tonight? Jungwoo invited me to have dinner with you guys.”

“No,” he says, voice edged with irritation. He reaches into his pocket, fishing out his phone and a pair of earbuds. “I’ll be out.”

“Oh.” You slow down slightly. “Well, we should hang out sometime. My next class is this way, so… see you.” By the time you’re done talking, he’s slipped both earbuds into his ears and is pushing the doors at the bottom of the stairs open. You hold back a heavy sigh and shrug your backpack higher onto your shoulders.

As he told you, he’s not in his apartment that evening. Though Jungwoo had invited you to help cook dinner, he shirks his responsibilities, slipping away to play games with Donghyuck and leaving you and Jaehyun to cook, with relatively unhelpful commentary from Johnny, who was once again on the couch when you arrived. At some point, their friend Yuta slips in, steals some noodles, and leaves.

After the cooking is done, you and Jaehyun celebrate with a firm high-five, and Jungwoo and Donghyuck un-disappear, coming out of the younger boy’s dark bedroom. The lot of you are halfway through eating when Donghyuck perks up. “Wait, where’s Mark? He said he would do calc homework with me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and hold back from saying that he told you he wouldn’t be home.

Thankfully, most of Jungwoo’s friends are nice to you and it’s easy enough for you to make friends of your own. You ease yourself into a routine of classes, homework, and hanging out with your new social circles. Mark doesn’t hide that he tries to avoid you about half of the time. At the same time, you try to split yourself between friend groups, as to not force him either to be around you or to not hang out with his own friends. There are the occasional large scale events that both of you are invited to, but there are enough people that you usually aren’t forced to interact. After a month of classes, you stop trying to start conversations, but you still greet him. He greets you back with the indifference of an overworked, tired stranger. During your class, he firmly ignores you. He does more than ignore you - he speaks to virtually every other person in your class except you. All of your friends carefully avoid the topic of his blatant dislike for you, though you know they all think it’s odd.

Finally, one of those large events comes to pass via the boy known as Zhong Chenle. He doesn’t go to your school, but is still somehow acquainted with all of Jungwoo’s friends, so he became acquainted with you as well. He’s eccentric and sarcastic and sometimes you see him playing basketball with Mark and Jaehyun in the school recreation center. So, when he rents out the local ice skating rink and invites you, you’re excited to go. It’s not often that you get onto the ice - it’s always a thrill after you re-learn how to skate, and you enjoy the feeling of the smooth gliding and wide, curving turns on the blades. You imagine that you’re painting with your feet.

Things go down smoothly, like you envisioned. After just twenty minutes, you’ve confidently found your ice legs and you’re racing around the rink with Donghyuck, playfully tipping each other off-balance with carefully or sometimes not-so-carefully timed pushes. A few minutes later, a new player enters the arena. Maybe if this new person weren’t Mark Lee, you wouldn’t have noticed their entrance, but your eyes are instinctively drawn to him.

The boy in question is clinging to one Lee Jeno, another friend of Jungwoo and Donghyuck and all the rest of them, as they both try to find their balance. Jeno seems to be having somewhat of an easier time with the skates on his feet, making slow pushes so that he glides short distances with Mark holding onto him. Mark is adorably flushed, in a way you haven’t seen before, his cheeks aflame with cold and embarrassment. His body is swallowed by an overly large hoodie, completing the cozy and cute look.

Your racing buddy has also slowed down to watch with you, staring at the scene. He suddenly nudges you with an elbow. “You should help him.”

“Jeno? I think he’s gotten the hang of it. Plus, I don’t know him that well.” It’s now a game of who can dodge implications rather than who can dodge physical pushes.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, skating lazily alongside you. “You know I’m talking about Mark. This would be a great opportunity to get on his good side.”

“Why don’t you help him? He’s your boyfriend, after all.” If you weren’t focusing on turning your skates and keeping your balance because you’ve reached the short end of the rink, you would cross your arms and huff at him more dramatically.

He clicks his tongue sharply, something you know by now that he does when he’s irritated. “Mark isn’t my boyfriend. Doyoung and Taeyong are boyfriends. Mark and I are soulmates. And he’s still painfully single.”

“So are you!” As you protest, you realize that Mark and Jeno are getting closer. Donghyuck fires something back indignantly, but you’re just thinking about what he said before. The offer to help lies in front of you as a real possibility, but how would you feel if someone you hated came up and asked if you wanted help skating? If you really hated them that much, you would just think they were being condescending. The last thing you want to do is give Mark a reason to think you’re acting that way towards him. So, as you skate closer, you pick up your pace and speed on by, not even glancing at the two boys with their arms interlinked. Luckily for you, Jungwoo is just ahead, so you hook arms with him and jerk him forward with your momentum, making him yell out in surprise.

As you’re gliding along, laughing at your friend’s reaction and attempts to push you, Mark stares at you from behind with a small frown on his face.

“Mark?” Jeno’s voice snaps him out of it and he looks towards the younger boy. “Do you need me to slow down?”

“No,” he says rather grimly, “let’s go faster.”

You don’t speak to each other at all for the entire night.

The next month and a half passes unremarkably. Then, suddenly, midterms are rolling up and you find yourself swamped with work, especially in the class you share with Mark and your new friend Yuqi. At the current moment, you’re at your place with your head buried in your arms, groaning dramatically. “I can’t do this.”

Yuqi nods, looking somewhat dead inside. “Professor Lim hates us.”

“I don’t know what chapters we even covered half of the material in. Did he just make it up?” You lift your hand to paw through the textbook in front of you lazily, so much of it seeming foreign. “It doesn’t help that the Instructional Systems Design Model is such a big part of the project.”

“Maybe that’s in Chapter 1?”

You flip through her suggestion before slamming your book shut. “Nope.”

“I know!” You perk up at your friend’s revelation, looking at her from across the table. “We can just ask Mark! He’s good at this class, he probably knows.”

You stiffen at her suggestion. There was only one time you dared to ask him for help, in which he just brushed you off and said he was busy. Since then, you’ve resigned yourself to only asking Yuqi for help, no matter how clueless she is in this class sometimes. A brief moment of panic sends your heart racing as she whips out her cellphone. “Don’t mention me.”

She turns to look at you, finger poised to press call over her phone. “What?”

You put your head back down, muffling your words. “Don’t say my name when you talk to him.” She gives you a weird look, but shrugs, pressing the call button. “Wait! And put it on speaker so I can hear the answer. Please.”

Wordlessly, she rolls her eyes, but pulls the phone away from her face, setting it on the table in front of her. The call connects after two rings and you hear Mark’s voice with the staticky phone call filter over it. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mark! It’s Yuqi.”

“Oh, hi, what’s up?” He seems to brighten up, showing a pleasantness that you rarely hear from him these days.

“I just had a question about our curriculum development class. Do you know what chapter goes over the Instructional Systems Design Model? I can’t find it.”

“Oh, sure. Hold on, let me grab my notes.” From the other end, you can hear the distorted shuffling of clothes and paper for a moment. “It’s Chapter 4, I think. We didn’t really go over that chapter in class, but Prof. Lim told me when I went to his office hours.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much, Mark! You’re a literal life saver,” Yuqi gushes, about to practically kiss the phone in joy.

You press your hands together in front of you in a silent thank you. Mark laughs lightly into the phone. “No problem! If you ever need anything, let me know. I’m always happy to help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! Bye, Mark!” After receiving a goodbye from him, Yuqi presses the hang up button. She claps her hands twice in excitement. “That makes things so much easier!”

You’re stuck thinking about what Mark said before hanging up. It’s exactly in line with how Jungwoo used to talk about him - polite, helpful, friendly. An ugly part of you has to wonder what you did wrong once again. What part of you is undeserving of his kindness? An even uglier part feels the green flash of envy. “How do you have Mark’s number?”

“We had a class together like a year ago and he’s a pretty cool guy. Also useful to have around.” The image of them studying together, chatting like close friends, heads bent closely over shared notes, makes the parasite of jealousy dig deeper in your belly. The logical side of your brain knows you shouldn’t be feeling like this, but the two sides of Mark Lee make you want to throw an uncharacteristic fit. She tosses her phone to the side before flipping open her textbook to Chapter 4. “Why?”

“Were you guys ever… like…” You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Me? Mark? No, we just worked on a project together. I have no idea what gave you that idea.” She wrinkles her nose at you.

“You just talk to each other so casually,” you huff, trying to expel the negativity from your system, “I don’t know.”

“He’s like that with everyone,” she says easily, leaning back in her chair. “Except you, I guess.”

“Except me. I guess.” You parrot, not feeling any better about the situation. When you proceed to ask her if you did anything weird on your first day of class that would have put him off, she denies it, telling you that you were completely normal. Resigned to forget the mystery for the night, you open up your textbook.

Midterms pass with relative success. At least, with more success than you had at your old university. You’re excited for a break, a reprieve from the pain of studying. Johnny arranges a potluck and movie night at his place, assigning everyone a dish and putting you on dessert.

In your class with Doyoung, who is often assigned as the chef of the group, you pressure him for everyone’s favorites. “Something fruity? Chocolatey?”

“We’re split there. There’s not much you can do that would appease everyone, honestly. Some of them are the pickiest guys I’ve ever met.” He continues to scribble notes as you grill him for info, not even looking up.

“What if I did something different? Like matcha cookies?” You tap your chin in thought and Doyoung lifts a hand to point at you after the suggestion leaves your mouth.

“Yes, do that one. Basically everyone likes green tea.”

“Basically everyone?”

“Not Mark.” Doyoung shakes his head disapprovingly. “He’s not arriving until after we eat, though, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

You’re not sure what to say to that. That night, you work hard making your matcha cookies, setting aside a bit of time for a side project. When you arrive at Johnny’s apartment with two dishes, one quite a bit smaller than the others and labeled with Mark’s name, safely hidden in the pantry until everyone has stepped out of the kitchen area and you can put it somewhere you hope he’ll see it. You can only hope that he at least appreciates your effort. When he arrives a bit later into the night, non-gifting you his usual non-existent glance, you can’t help but impatiently squirm a bit. Before you leave, you make a pass by the kitchen and, disappointingly, but not surprisingly, the container is in the same place as you left it, your note still affixed to the top.

The mystery continues, however, when you approach Johnny a few days later to ask about retrieving your containers.

“There was more than one? I only have that big rectangular one that you brought the matcha cookies in. They were really good, by the way - I can only wish the cookies I make turned out like that…” He scratches his head and you feel like the gesture perfectly represents how you’re feeling as well. If he doesn't have the box… who does?

A small part of you holds onto the hope that the intended person retrieved them after you weren’t looking.

The class you share with Mark is not nearly the most interesting one you have, nor is it one that is particularly memorable most of the time. There’s something so terribly tedious about it that makes you suffer a disproportionate amount whenever you do a chapter of the reading, though you think that you’re usually quite good about your work. Still, though you’re not exactly the most studious of your classmates, you can’t stand resounding silences in the classroom. So, when your professor asks a question and no one volunteers, you try to at least say something somewhat intelligent. Today is one of those days. Except, as you speak, you realize with dawning dread that your words aren’t making any sense of all, are barely related to the question, and are progressively spiraling into completely different subject matter. Still, you find it hard to stop, eventually coming to a stuttering stop with your answer. Even Professor Lim can’t hold back something of a put-off expression. You sink lower into your seat and, as your professor says something along the lines of your comments being “not quite relevant,” your cheeks burn.

You spare a glance to the side, looking for some sort of pity or reassurance from Yuqi, but you end up looking past her at Mark. You half expect him to smirking at your failure, like a villain in a high school drama, but, instead, his eyes meet yours. He offers you the barest twitch of an encouraging smile before looking away, his face neutral again. You’re almost unsure about how to interpret the look - it’s the closest thing to a positive emotion he’s ever shown you. Confused, you fix your eyes on your open notebook and keep them there, scratching random notes and doodles into the margins for the remainder of the lecture.

When you think about Mark Lee, you feel like you’re going insane. It would honestly be pretty easy for you to make one of those crazy conspiracy theorist maps with the red strings and thumbtacks attempting to connect a bunch of pictures with all the strange, fragmented experiences you’ve had with the boy. At one position, you could put all the information you supposedly knew about him before even meeting him, all of the things Jungwoo told you, all the smiling pictures from before you arrived. Somewhere else, you could put all of the times Mark has brushed you off or outright refused to acknowledge your existence. In a third location, you could put all the things you’ve actively seen or heard him do that align with the person you thought he was. Finally, you could put the most recent developments of him subtly starting to not ignore you together. The whole diagram would be circled with giant question marks all over it and one question written in capital letters: WHY?

You’re trying to do your damn curriculum development homework and all you can think about is Mark Lee and the first smile he ever gave you. And, from the way your heart is beating, pushing heat into your face and ears, making you wistful and longing to see his smile again, you think you know the direction your feelings have headed.

The next few times you head over to Jungwoo’s place, it’s hit or miss as to whether Mark appears to be actively avoiding you. Finally, one day, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder with Jungwoo, your eyes fixed on the small screen of your phone as you show him a funny video you found. You don’t notice Mark until he opens his bedroom door loudly enough that you look up and you meet his cold gaze. He’s in casual clothes, a hoodie and jeans, with earbuds hanging from his ears, his hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. The eye contact lasts for only a moment before his door acts as a barrier to your vision. You blink hard.

“Just when I thought we were getting somewhere…” You sulk, speaking lowly as to not be overheard by him.

“You and Mark?” Jungwoo asks, not even looking up. The video ends and your friend puts down your phone, folds his hands in front of him, and turns to look at you. “Did you ever figure it out?”

“Did I? How could I figure it out when he won’t even talk to me? Did you?” You lean away from him, crossing your arms. “Should we even be having this conversation over here? He’s just in his room.”

Jungwoo shrugs. “He has his headphones in, he can’t hear anything. To answer your question,” he pauses, leaning in closer to whisper like he’s telling you a secret, “I have no idea.”

“You must have some ideas at least?”

“I have many ideas, many theories, and quite a few formulas. Most of which don’t particularly apply to this situation.” You grumble something under your breath about engineering majors as he continues. “For Mark? He might be letting all the negativity he’s ever felt out on you, honestly. Maybe because you’re the same major?”

You sit up slightly straighter. “We’re the same major?”

“Yeah?” Jungwoo replies, giving you a look. “He’s trying to be music education instead of history education, though.”

“I never knew the specifics,” you mumble, letting your posture fall back into a slouch. In reality, it’s more than just not knowing the specifics - there’s very little you’ve managed to learn about Mark that you haven’t actively had to pry out of your shared friends. You know about some of the foods he likes, some of his hobbies, and a bit of general information. It’s awfully hard to get to know someone when they refuse to acknowledge you.

That notion makes your developing crush feel even stupider.

You attempt to turn the subject back to where it began. “Why me, though? Why not literally anyone else?”

“You’re a pretty cool person and you’re good at a lot of things. Mark’s developing an inferiority complex?” Jungwoo taps his chin as though he’s pretending to be some great thinker.

“I’m not going to lower myself to help some man’s ego,” you huff, your nails digging into your palms as you make tight fists. “Plus, there’s nothing I’m particularly good at that he’s not also good at, if not better.”

“It’s not really about ego, I think…” Jungwoo says, trailing off. “I dunno. He’s not like that with anyone but you.”

“No one but me, huh.” Honestly, you’re kind of getting sick of that expression. This isn’t the kind of exceptional you want to be to him. Not at all. You’re honestly not sure when it stopped being a simple need to be on pleasant terms with Jungwoo’s friends and started to get romantic. Your lips press into a thin line for a moment before you exhale sharply from your nose. “Everything is a big ‘I don’t know’ and I hate it. If it’s not an ‘I don’t know,’ it’s still stuck in the ‘why?’ stage.” You lay your head down and you have to resist the urge to scream into your arms. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You really make no sense at all.”

“It really makes no sense that I-” You bite your tongue to stop yourself to stop yourself from admitting out loud to the feelings you’ve just recently realized. Jungwoo just gives you a sly, knowing smile that you don’t like the look of one bit.

Before you know it, finals are around the corner and, with it, one of the last organized events you’ll have with your friends until testing is over. This time, it’s a group dinner where people can come and go as they please, and a few of you have taken it upon yourselves to do all the cooking. Namely, you, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Kun, and, surprisingly, Donghyuck. Suffice to say, the kitchen is not enough space for all of you. Still, you manage to pull it off, completing a hearty Korean-style dinner that slowly disappears from their dishes as all of the others eat. By the end, you’re worn out from the sweltering heat of the stove, the occasional bickering with the other chefs (‘Donghyuck, stop eating all the radish!’), and chatting with nearly every single one of your friends. Names and faces scroll through your head and you’re honestly not sure who you’ve seen and not seen by the end of it. Except for one person.

Mark Lee is, once again, nowhere to be found.

You make sure to smack away hands going for seconds in order to wrap up a moderately sized portion of food for him anyways. When all of the food, save for what you’ve set aside for Mark, is gone, Taeyong offers himself and some of the others up to clean, which you and the rest of the cooking boys eagerly accept. Most of them have headed out by now, but the few remaining begrudgingly agree to the job at Taeyong’s call.

You lean against the wall idly, watching the work being done and listening to the rhythmic sound of the water running and the sponge scraping against metal. Finally, Jungwoo happens upon the wrapped plate you had prepared for your missing guest.

“Who’s this for?” He asks to the room, almost salivating at the sight of the food. Damn, that boy can eat.

“It’s for Mark. You can give it to him when he gets back.” Your words are half informative, half threatening. Jungwoo takes the hint and carefully replaces the foil covering the food.

It takes another minute for him to look back over at you, seeing you looking bleary-eyed, close to swaying onto the floor from fatigue. He steps over, patting you on the head. “Y/N, you can go rest on the couch if you want. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I might just do that,” you respond, not clarifying which part of his sentence you’re talking about. At his behest, you shuffle over to the couch. It only takes a moment for your eyes to flutter closed. The music of washing dishes lulls you quickly to sleep.

You’re not sure how long has passed by the time you stir to the sound of the front door closing. You recognize that water is no longer running and that there are only two voices left in the kitchen area. Lying there for a moment, unsure of if you should make your presence known yet, you determine that the voices belong to Jungwoo and Mark.

“Oh, Y/N made sure to grab this for you,” you hear Jungwoo say, followed by the faint crinkling of the foil covering the plate.

“She did?” Mark’s voice is surprisingly soft, warm, everything you’re not used to from him.

The voices drift closer towards you, accompanying the slip of socks against the wood floor. “Don’t act surprised. Also, she’s on the couch sleeping right now. I’ll probably wake her up in a minute so she can go home.”

“Oh.” You’re listening as hard as you can, trying to determine whatever Mark is feeling just by his tone. “Is she okay?”

Your heart beats faster and you want to squirm, ask questions, anything. You remain still.

“Just tired.” A beat of silence. “Why are you looking at her like that?”

“Dude, I just…” Mark has some sort of lightness to his voice that you’ve never heard. “Nothing.”

“Do you think I can’t tell? Come on, I’ve known you long enough.” Jungwoo would normally be teasing saying something like that, but right now you just hear a kind of weariness that you’re entirely familiar with.

“Not as long you’ve known her.” The sentence comes out bitter, the first negativity you’ve heard from Mark all night, and Jungwoo sighs in response.

“Do what you need to do and then I’ll wake her up.”

They walk farther away. The telltale sound of the microwave opening and shutting after the foil crinkles again, followed by the beeping of the buttons and the hum of the machine, tells you that someone is heating up the food. Under the microwave ambiance, you hear what you think is plastic against plastic. The machine is stopped before it can beep shrilly. The smell of warm, reheated food fills the air briefly. There’s shuffling as Mark presumably walks.

“Night.” Jungwoo echoes Mark’s sentiment and you hear more shuffling towards you. A touch on your shoulder. You keep your eyes closed, trying to control your breathing for a moment longer. Your friend shakes you slightly. “Y/N, wake up.”

You try your best to play up your awakening act, like you hadn’t been listening to the entirety of the last conversation. Rubbing your eyes and blinking, you look up at Jungwoo. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight. Everyone went home to sleep and study.” You get up slowly, rolling your shoulders once you’ve sat up. “I can walk you back, if you want.”

“That’s okay, it’s not a long walk.” You get to your feet, padding to the kitchen area. There, on the table, is the plastic container you’d brought Mark’s cookies in weeks ago. “Oh, that’s my container. Did Johnny find it?”

Jungwoo reaches up to ruffle his hair, looking between you and the container. “Mark did, actually.” “Huh.” Shrugging, you pick it up and make your way to the door. “Tell him thanks for me.”

“You could tell him yourself?” Jungwoo offers, looking vaguely hopeful.

You smile, but cringe at the same time. “Yeah… you know.”

He shakes his head, seeming disappointed once more. “Fine. Text me when you get back?”

“Will do.”

As you walk home, your container clutched in your arms, you think about how more pieces are being unveiled, but nothing is really making that much more sense at all.

Finals pass as they always do. You study with Yuqi for your curriculum development class. The situation from midterms repeats itself almost exactly at one point, with her calling Mark for help and you staying quiet as he talks, and the test is no harder than any of the others you had previously in the semester. You force yourself to keep your eyes on your exam and to not glance over at Mark except when you’re walking out of the classroom at the end. All you can see of him is the back of his head, his hair slightly disheveled. Idly, you wonder if you’ll get over your baseless crush if you aren’t able to look at him and mull over the problem during class anymore. You think that’s the last you’ll see of him before you run into him at an event next semester.

On the last day of finals, your group chat receives two messages from Jungwoo.

JW: END OF THE SEMESTER PARTY TOMORROW NIGHT TO CELEBRATE FINALS BEING DONE BEFORE EVERYONE LEAVES. ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY.

JW: I don’t care if you planned a “date” with your “girlfriend,” I expect to see all of you there :))

A minute later, your phone buzzes again with an individual message from the same boy.

JW: Y/N, my lovely best friend, you’re part of the planning committee and you’re going to help me set up. Be there an hour early xoxo

You know there’s no use fighting it so, the next day, you show up to his place as expected. Jungwoo, Lucas, Yuta, and Johnny are all milling about, trying to seem busy but, honestly, there doesn’t look like there’s much to do. Some of the furniture has been moved to the side, there’s a giant mysterious tub that is partly filled with a reddish liquid that Lucas and Yuta are leaning over, and Johnny is affixing colorful lights to a wall. As soon as your shoes are off, Jungwoo is steering you to the common area.

“Y/N, you’re late!”

“I’m like ten minutes early-” You start.

“No, no, no excuses. I have an important job for you!” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s not leading you to the kitchen, but towards someone’s bedroom. “You like crafts, right?”

“I mean, I guess? I-”

“Great!” He pushes open the bedroom door, Mark’s bedroom door, and pushes you not-so-gently inside. Mark is sitting at his desk, bent over something with a look of surprise on his face. He looks cozy, dressed in a simple red t-shirt and gray sweats with circle glasses perched on his nose. “I want to hang about one hundred paper cranes around the apartment to add a little flare to the party. You can’t leave until you’re done, Mark has the paper, bye!”

He shuts the door behind him.

You and Mark stare at each other in bewilderment as you process whatever just happened. You’re in Mark’s bedroom for the first time. You’re also being actively forced to interact with him one on one for the first time. None of your friends had ever forced you to try and work out your issues until now and you’re certain that Jungwoo’s implication was that you’re not allowed to leave until you’ve talked it through. Some part of you knew he would eventually snap and force you to interact, but you always ignored that possibility. Until now.

“Um,” you start, twisting your fingers together in front of you, “he said you have the paper?”

“Yeah…” he looks back at his desk, grabbing some of the myriad of square sheets and holding them out to you. “Here.”

“Thanks.” You carefully make sure to prevent your fingers from brushing against his as you take them from him. Stepping back, you settle cross-legged on an empty spot on his floor. After you sit, you take a moment to look around. His walls have the occasional band poster plastered on them, there’s a hoodie on the floor across the room, and some of his drawers are partly open, illustrating a pretty typical college boy’s room. A couple of books are pushed to the side on his desk as he works on folding the cranes. Remembering that’s what you’re supposed to be doing, you get to work, making careful creases. Your first crane comes to life on yellow paper slightly lopsided. Good enough, you figure.

You’re in the middle of your second crane when Mark’s chair screeches quietly against the floor and he stands up, gathering his paper. To your great surprise, he sits down a few away from you and mirrors your pose. When you meet eyes with him briefly, you look away as fast as you can, returning to your crane before you can even try and read what he’s feeling. The next three cranes pass quickly with your eyes locked firmly on your work. When you dare to look up again, you find that Mark is intently watching your hands. He startles when you see him. Realizing he’s been caught, he speaks of softly. “Do you… know how to do it?”

Even when he’s the one talking quietly, looking embarrassed, you feel so small. You look down at his own paper pile, which has a few crumpled sheets surrounding it. “I can show you.” He nods and you cautiously scoot closer so that you’re side by side. As gently as you can, you explain each fold and he copies your movements. Soon, you have a relatively even green crane and he has a somewhat lopsided pink crane, very similar to your first.

“Thanks,” he says, staring at his creation, “all of the tutorials I googled weren’t making any sense, but I think I got it now.”

“No problem.” You nod, moving back to your spot across from him. Not wanting the experience to end quite yet, you think about what Jungwoo said last weekend. “Thanks for returning my container.”

He instantly knows what you’re talking about. “Thanks for-”

Before he can say any more, he stops and his expression hardens. He proceeds to look back down at his hands, making slow, purposeful folds in the paper in front of him. You frown, but do the same. A few cranes later, you can’t stop it anymore. After months, months, of him treating you like this, you can’t go one more crane without finding the truth. You throw a half-completed crane to the floor and, though the noise isn’t loud, he looks up. “Mark, what did I do?”

He seems entirely too surprised by the question, which sparks a kind of anger that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. “What?”

“What did I do! What made you act like this to me? Did I do something? Do you just hate my face? What did I do wrong?” You squeeze your knees brutally, trying to resist doing something like tearing up the few pieces of origami you had completed.

“Nothing.” His simple, one word answer only serves to make you more upset. Though he appears initially dismissive, he sees that you’re about to start shouting and quickly continues. “You really didn’t do anything!”

“Then, why? Mark, you’re making me lose my mind!” Now, you feel like you’re on the verge of crying out of frustration. So far, you’ve managed to not cry at all about this stupid boy who has largely chosen to ignore your existence, but you can feel the telltale warming of your cheeks and the pout in your lips.

“It’s not something you did! Not really.” He takes a shaky breath, appearing almost as upset as you, though there are no tears in his eyes. “It’s about Jungwoo. Please, don’t cry.”

The initial confusion helps you swallow your building tears. “If you’re upset at him, why do you have to take it out on me? I really wanted to be friends with you, Mark. I really did.”

“I wanted to be different.” Now, he’s quiet, refusing to look at you for the months of shame he’s feeling rise to the surface.

“From Jungwoo?” You’re not quite following still. You just know that, even though he’s subtly broken your heart and led you in circles over and over for the past few months, you want to know why he’s hurting and you want to stop it. Even if he hasn’t been full of kindness to you, he has been to everyone else. And you know almost for a fact that this isn’t something he’s told anyone else.

“From you.”

Pushing aside papers, crumpled partial cranes, complete cranes, you move closer to him. You’re not sure if you’re overstepping your boundaries and you still kind of feel like one wrong move will make you cry, but the yelling has left your system and your instincts say proximity will help you understand. “Will you explain it to me?”

“There was a you-shaped hole in Jungwoo’s heart ever since he had to go to college and stop spending so much time with you.” Mark’s resignation is quiet, soft-spoken, like the boy you’d heard so much about but only now had gotten to truly meet. “Whenever he came back from breaks, he would talk about you so much and about how similar you and I are and it just made me feel… it made me feel… like… I don’t know. Like I’m just replacing you while you’re not here.”

“Mark…” You’re not sure quite what to say that he hasn’t logically figured out for himself already. Maybe it would help to say the obvious anyways? “You’re not a replacement. You’re you and I’m me and he has different places for both of us.”

He lets out a puff of air. “I know that. It’s just the type of feeling that you can’t really get to go away, even when you try really hard to believe the opposite.”

“I get the feeling.” And you do. It’s like the nagging feeling that you’ve had that you did something unforgivable to upset Mark even though you were almost certain you didn’t.

“I was mean to you because at least that would make me different enough to not be replaced, I guess. It worked because you never stooped to my level to be mean back.” Though he hasn’t quite apologized, he sounds genuinely sorry.

“It worked because you couldn’t have been replaced in the first place,” you say back. You look over and he has a small smile on his face.

“That too. Also-” He stops himself, seeming conflicted. “No, it’s a bad time. A really bad time.”

That piques your curiosity. “Huh?” He’s not smiling anymore, instead looking awkwardly to his side, away from you, and drumming his fingers on the bed. “Mark, you might as well say it. Whatever it is.”

“Okay, after a few months, I realized that you weren’t going to replace me and things were fine. But, you know that thing that kids do?” You’re confused and he’s growing red, practically steaming at the ears in embarrassment, which you can see even in the dim light of the room. “So, I kept being mean because then you kept looking at me even though whenever I thought about what I said to you later, I always felt really bad-” “Mark, you’re rambling. What are you talking about?” You ungracefully interrupt him, touching his arm to get his full attention. He seems to grow even redder at your touch and suddenly exclaims his next words.

“You’re really cute!”

Slowly, his words make more sense. You try to piece them together out loud to make sure you’re understanding him correctly. “So… the thing kids do… where they’re mean to the person they like?”

He moves his head up and down in a tiny nod. Now, your face is heating up, too. Even more than it was when you were on the verge of crying. After a moment, he groans and presses his face into his hands. “Damn, I’m such an idiot. I know this is, like, what middle schoolers do, but since the beginning of the semester I’ve just been so confused, except you’ve probably been way, way more confused than me, and I didn’t even think about it, but all of our friends are probably confused, too, and-” As he jabbers, when your thoughts and feelings had been processing slowly previously, you now feel like your whole reality is crumbling. You spent the last while beating down your feelings when he’s become a pile of mush in front of you about the same problem? At this rate, he’s never going to stop rambling either. Not that you particularly want him to. It’s the most he’s directly said to you ever. And it’s adorable. What else would be adorable? You wonder, teasing him a bit before you tell him the truth. For how long he kept you hanging, you deserve to create at least some tension of your own, you figure. Just for a moment.

“- you’re probably thinking about how dumb this is and I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me-”

You sit up straight and cross your arms over your chest. “Mark.”

He stops talking and looks at you, more panic seeming to rise in his face at the serious expression you wear. “Oh shit, I never let you talk. Y/N-”

“Mark.” He finally stops, staring at you. “I don’t forgive you.” The panic turns into sheer terror. He clearly hadn’t expected you to put it so forwardly. However, before he can say anything truly depressing, you continue. “I don’t forgive you because you haven’t actually apologized yet.”

His eyes are like tiny suns, round and bright and holding all the feeling in the universe. “I- I thought…” He looks to the side, thinking about everything he had said, and realizes that you’re right. “You’re right. Y/N…” He presses his hands together in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s probably the most succinct and straightforward he’s ever been with you, but you don’t have much time to think about that before he’s leaning forward in a full bow, pressing his forehead to the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Mark, stop!” As soon as you realize what he’s doing, you shuffle forward, putting both hands on his shoulders so you can attempt to yank him back upright. “I was joking, please stop!” He remains upraised, once again looking confused. Slowly, you move backwards about two feet to put some breathing room between you. “You don’t need to do that. I like you, too.”

One slow heartbeat passes. Then a second. You’re not sure how long the thick silence hangs between you, but the tension is so heavy that you don’t even hear any outside noise from the other boys who are supposedly getting ready for a party.

“You… what… wait, no, really?” Mark’s baffled face as he stutters back to you paired with the anxiety of the entire situation makes a laugh bubble out of your chest. He seems to be entirely at a loss. He continues to just stare at you wide-eyed, like he’s witnessing some incredible event instead of just ogling you in the dim light of his bedroom.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You can’t help but reflect some of his flustered behavior, eye contact becoming almost painful. He’s never met your eyes with such enormous positivity and cuteness before and it makes you want to run laps around the building or something. “Mark, I’m serious!”

“How could you like me back? When I was so mean to you? For months?” He begins to twist in place, trying to lean over and look at your head from multiple directions. “Did you fall down the stairs on the way over here and hit your head or something?”

“Mark!” You uncross your legs and shuffle closer on your knees, reaching out to still his movement by grasping his shoulders once again. “Please stop.” When you touch him, he freezes, still moon-eyed. After he stops moving, your hands slide down so that you can hold his. His hands are warm and stiff, just like the rest of his body.

He finally breaks eye contact, looking at where your hands are connected. “I just really don’t get it. There’s no way you like me.”

“You almost sound like you’re upset about it.” You tilt your head, smiling at him softly.

“I am!” He’s insistant, his hands holding onto yours firmly now. Though his grip is tighter, he visibly deflates, his shoulders sinking. “It’s so unfair to you. I was such an ass.”

“But you’re not. One ass-like behavior does not an ass make.” You almost confuse yourself saying it, but you continue. “It’s not about the times you were weird to me. It’s about the times you were nice to everyone else. Like when you helped Yuqi with our class. Or when you helped Donghyuck with his calc even though you aren’t even taking it with him. It sounds kind of dumb, but because of that, I knew you weren’t a bad person. Even if you were trying to be one to me sometimes.” Your thumbs run over his idly, making soothing strokes over his skin as you speak. “Still, you weren’t really all that mean to me, per se. More cold, if anything. Then, when you stopped doing so much of that, it got really confusing. I do have a question, though.”

“I’ll try to answer it, I guess.”

“Did Jungwoo really say we were that similar?”

He blinks. “Maybe once or twice? It just really stuck out to me, for some reason.”

“You’re cute.” He blushes furiously at that. Carefully, you untangle one of your hands from his and bring it up to his cheek, cupping his blazing face. “Do you want to try this? The being together thing?”

“I want to, but-” He presses his lips together, making his cheeks puff out slightly as he thinks. “I don’t know. I feel like I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve a chance with you.”

Silence sits between you for a moment. Your hand moves back down so you’re holding both of his again. “I know what you can do to make it up to me.”

His eager eyes on your face prompts you to continue. Slowly, a grin threatens to split your face in half.

“I guess you’ll have to kiss me at least once for every time you were mean to me. Maybe more than once.” Your brilliant smile changes form in the air between you and reappears as the stars in his eyes.

“Practice round? Just to make sure I get it right.” The subtle flirtatiousness of the idea that leaves his mouth absolutely appeals to you and you agree. You move as close as you possibly can, your knees pressed together, your breath on his lips and his on yours, his soft bangs grazing your forehead. The touch of his lips against yours is awkward at first, but transforms into something sweeter with a little time. Once you both pull away, it seems you have the same idea when you both go back in for a few quick pecks afterwards. Finally, when you’re content for the moment, he leans forward quickly to press a kiss to your cheek.

You figure that a return to the work of folding cranes will help calm down your rapid heart rate, but every time you steal a glance at Mark, the butterflies return. You know for a fact that he keeps looking at you, too. By the time the noise level outside of the room increases and music is being blasted through the apartment, you’re nowhere near being done with all one hundred cranes, but both of you are sure your mutual friend doesn’t actually care about that. Together, you emerge from his room. You don’t answer any prodding questions from your friends for most of the time you’re mingling, though you’re pretty sure that a good number of them see him sneaking kisses at least once or twice.

Some of them definitely see when you sneak off to his room again before the clock has even turned to midnight. At the same time, you could be damned if you really care.

#neowritingsnet #nct fluff #nct angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenario #wonjaekook #i tried a slightly new sizing for the header :) hopefully it looks better now #there are definitely things I could have done better so let me know what you think!#<<<333

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dreadpoetssociety · 4 years

Text

Fevers Don’t Exist

TW: Fever ? (I’m not sure what counts for triggers so pls lmk if I miss anything)

Prompt: hi!! could u do one maybe where like, the reader is an actress on supernatural and she plays like their younger sister on the show or something and she gets sick at a con or something? Thanks !!

NOTE: Hey guys, I’m alive!!!! I know I have a lot of Spencer prompts atm, but it’s really hard to write them when I’m not like, hyper focused on Criminal Minds. I am going to try though! So sorry I’ve left so many of you in the wind, I am a very inconsistent person, my bad. But here’s this! It’s REALLY bad because I’m terrible at being realistic but like idk it’s something.

I really don’t even know what to put for tags on this.

()()()()()()

Ah, September. You knew what came along every September, and looked forward to it for the first eight months of every year. Secaucus, New Jersey. You loved every con you went to, truly. Everyone was so nice, you love staying in hotels, panels are such a great time, the whole thing. It's a great experience outside of the set to get connected with fans. And, they loved you almost as much as you loved them. You were typically closer in age, since you were still just a teenager. You also started out as a fan of the show before somehow snatching a role, so you really were with them at one point. Everything that excites them excited you just as much. And, you loved making friends with them. You weren't allowed to be reckless with your phone number, so you made a snapchat that you shared exclusively with con goers, whom you made swear to secrecy. It was like a club, and you just enjoyed genuinely talking to everyone. But, when you woke up that first morning, you knew it was going to be a long day. Your body ached, and you were still pretty exhausted. You had a fever, but didn't really know if it was a fever because you were still young, and God forbid you ever decided to recognize the signs of you being sick. It was almost like a form of denial, not knowing. You were sweating, but freezing, and your throat felt particularly dry. Your headache rested underneath your eyes for the most part, to which you just blamed on being tired. Your stomach didn't hurt, but you definitely weren't hungry. Even though you hadn't felt exactly 100% the past days before, and you obviously weren't feeling right now, you just deduced that it was all because you were tired, and had a late flight in. As a responsible person does, of course. You didn't even bother taking any medicine for it, because hey, you obviously weren't sick, you'd feel better in a bit, and you didn't have any, so why waste the time, right?

You groggily got dressed and met up with "the boys" (even though they were all older than you) for the free breakfast downstairs, in a separate room, since fans did happen to stay in the same hotel. You grabbed some Cheerios, only to conspicuously throw them away after.

"You good, Y/N?" Jared asked out loud, gaining the attention of Jensen, Misha, and Alex. You could feel their eyes burning through your skin. Or, maybe that was the fever. It had to be their eyes, you convinced yourself, you didn't have a fever. You were fine.

"Yeah, why?" you asked, faking the perk in your voice and confused eyes. Your eyes felt really heavy, you noticed.

"You just... You look exhausted. And pale." he said, "And you threw away that cereal without eating any of it."

You looked down at yourself as an effect for what you were about to say, "Wow, well that's one way to make me self-conscious. I thought I looked kind of poppin'." you laughed slightly, trying to play it off.

"W-wait, no that's- that's not what I meant! You look fine, I just-" he was embarrassed. You and the others chuckled.

"I'm kidding. I'm all good, just went to bed late, y'know?" you smiled. It was hard to try and mask the rasp in your voice, and doing so made you feel the need to cough, so you downed some water until it dialed down a bit. He nodded. In your mind, you blessed your acting skills, thinking you got away with it. What you didn't know was that Misha, Jensen, and Jared, as fathers do, knew every trick in the book, and each noted to keep an eye on you. Not to mention, they'd been acting far longer than you had, and could just tell when one switches into a character. They all figured that if you weren't sick now, you would be in days to come, and exchanged glances with each other, while Alex innocently continued to chew on his toast.

"Well, if you're tired, I don't think you have a panel or anything for another hour or something, maybe you could catch up on some sleep then." Jared suggested. You shrugged.

"Nah," you said, "I've got photo-ops in like, twenty minutes. I should actually probably get going. I'll catch up later!"

You left with a wave, and disappeared into the hotel somewhere. You stopped in your room, allowing yourself finally to set free the coughs living in the back of your throat. You blamed it on your throat being dry since you didn't drink enough water. Not on germs. So, you grabbed two water bottles from the small fridge in your room, and left, making your way towards the convention center.

You felt slightly better during photo-ops, which just confirmed in your mind that it was impossible that you were sick right now. You smiled and talked to everyone. There was one girl, who introduced herself as Meredith, who stuck out in your mind. She gave you this super cool hand painted keychain, which you very excitedly put on your keys instantly.

"Dude, I've been looking for a cool keychain. Not just one of those janky ones you find at like 7-11, like a cool one. This is so exciting." you smiled genuinely. You had just recently bought yourself a car, and thought that your keys looked a little lonely, and searched for hours on Etsy for something to spice it up a bit. A weird obsession, thinking about it now.

She laughed, "I'm glad you like it!"

"Hell, yeah! Now, are there any poses you wanna do? Or do you just want to hit that casual look? I could make it look like I'm meeting you." you stupidly rambled. One of your traits that was so widely known was how funny and awkward (in a good way) that you were. It took you a long time to get to that point, though, because you were always anxious about meeting others. You still are every now and then, but it's different here.

"I was just hoping to get a hug." she said, "If that's okay with you."

"Yeah, that's cool!" you wrapped your arms around each other and shot the camera a grin. The girl looked a bit confused.

"Hey," she said, quietly, "are you like, okay? You feel really hot."

Nervously, you replied, "Oh, no, yeah totally fine. I'm just wearing two layers, and it's getting spicy in here."

"Yeah," she answered, "don't push yourself, okay?"

"I won't, thank you. It was really nice meeting you!"

"You, too! Thanks!" she waved goodbye and you moved on to the last few people in line. She was right, though. You realized that you felt worse than you did when you walked in. You thought it had gone away for a while, but now it was just amplified. You noticed you were cold again, but that you were sweating as well. It must've just been the temperature in the room. These conventions aren't always able to keep a steady temp in the entire building, right?

This day, you didn't have much to do. Most of your events were on the other days to come. You had one panel in a few hours, and then a panel with Jared, Jensen, and Misha a few hours after that, and then bam, the day was over. You just had to get through those two events. Just two.

Two, events. And both were an hour. So, two hours out of the day. Rookie work. Yet, as your panel approached, the headache had expanded from under your eyes to anywhere that there was space to hurt, your throat ached and so did your lungs from how much you were going off somewhere to cough in privacy, your body felt heavy, you couldn't tell if you were hot or cold at this point it was some weird combination of both, your stomach hurt just slightly, the world was moving around you a bit more than it usually would, and the fever you "didn't" have had climbed a degree, probably two. And, at some point during the day, you got pretty congested. You felt like you could just fall asleep at any moment. Jared and Jensen happened to be walking by where you had been waiting by yourself, away from any congoers or employees, and noticed that even though you were leaning against a wall, you somehow were still swaying.

"Y/N?" Jensen called out, worried. You heard him, you knew you were supposed to respond, but didn't know how. Maybe you did have a fever, and maybe you sort of let it out of control. It was like you were comprehending them, but not at the same time. You heard everything, but it just swept right through your feverish mind. The walked in front of you and examined you within seconds. You felt Jared's cold, really abnormally large man hand sweep your hair back and land on your forehead.

"J, she's burning up." you felt another hand on your face. You, quite exhaustedly, swatted it away. They couldn't figure out how it'd gotten so bad so quickly. You were sick this morning, but not to this degree. They knew then that you had just shrugged it off all day, and your teenage fever brain probably didn't even think to take any kind of medicine or anything for it, even if you were trying to hide it.

"I'm good. Just tired. Fevers don’t exist." you finally mumbled, taking a few deep breathes, which you hadn't really been able to do in a bit without being rudely interrupted by a bone-shaking cough. It felt nice, almost. The boys sighed at you and shook their heads.

"Y/N, you should go back to your room and get some rest. We can bring you some stuff that'll help." Jared suggested. You shook your head and opened your eyes, which somehow felt even heavier.

"Nah," you said to them, "I've got a panel, I think, in like, I ‘dunno, some minutes or something. Something I-" you pushed yourself off the wall to try and make your way somewhere, but stumbled a step or two, which result in Jensen and Jared instinctively to grab you in order to keep you steady.

"Like hell we're letting you go to that, Y/N, you can't even form a sentence, or stand for that matter. You're out of your mind. We're going to bring you back now, we'll take care of your panel thing." Jensen stated pretty sternly. You were about to fight back, and they could see it, but you coughed a few times, and they could almost feel it in their own chests. You just nodded in defeat.

"Yeah, maybe I could just like, sleep, for an hour or two." you whispered, tiredly. The two were still holding you steady, and could see you already falling asleep before even going anywhere.

"Or six, by the looks of it." Jared joked lightly.

"Poor kid." Jensen said to Jared as the were walking out of your room. They helped you get there, and you were gone before you even saw the bed, "Why do they always have to pretend like they aren't sick? Look where it gets them."

"Don't know, man. You can't talk, though. You literally tell people you are immune to illness." Jared laughed quietly, shutting you door.

"Well I am. I am the perfect example of health. I don't get sick."

"Yeah," Jared rolled his eyes, "Right. Watch you catch what Y/N has. You practically carried her all the way here. There's no way you're escaping it." Walking towards the center, the back way of course, Jensen scoffed, "Please, germs take one look at me and know not to mess this up. And, by the logic, that means you're already infected, too. So, tell me, princess, what sort of soup do you want spoon-fed?"

Again, Jared rolled his eyes, and the two laughed. They weren't making fun of you, they were making fun of each other, and knew that you would've wanted in on that action.

"Y/N probably would've destroyed us if she heard that. Something along the longs of 'You want me to tuck you in? Carry you bridal style?'" Jared pitched his voice a tone higher for it. Again, the two men laughed.

They made their way backstage of what's supposed yo be your panel, and informed the crew about what was going on. They were just going to fill in for you, probably tell a few embarrassing stories.

When they made their way through the curtain, the crowd shouted. They were obviously excited to see the two leads, but also were obviously confused. "Alright, you're probably confused." Jensen stated the obvious, "Because obviously, we look nothing like Y/N, and thank God she does not look like us." The crowd laughed.

"Anyway, Y/N can't make it today. She's really sick-" the crowd cut Jared off with a unison "awe." People yelled out that they hoped she felt better, tell her to take care of herself, and so on.

"Yeah, poor kid looked like she was just going to fall asleep right where she was standing. She literally tried to come anyway, like, kid, you're making no sense. Y/N couldn't really fight against us, though, so she's sleeping now." Jensen explained, "So we came here to chat in her stead, but just know she really was planning on coming. That kid loves you guys." and again, the "awe" rolled through the crowd.

"If she wasn't sick, she could totally kick both your-" the last word was cut off, but was implied anyway, someone screamed from the crowd, which resulted in laughter.

"Yeah, probably. Even if we were stronger than her," sarcastically, of course, "she'd still beat us. Kid's too fast, and I'm too old." Jared laughed.

In the last ten minutes of the panel, Jared decided to give you call. Not only to check in on you, but so you could at least say hi to your crowd. When you heard the phone ring, you groggily opened your eyes and aimlessly reached for it.

"Hello?" you answered. Jared almost frowned at how sick you sounded, even with just one word.

"Y/N?" Jensen stepped in, "It's Jensen."

"Unfortunate." you sighed exhaustedly. It was joke, a really tired one, but still enough to make the crowd laugh.

"We're here at your panel, we thought you might want to say hi." Jared said loudly, holding the speaker of his phone to the microphone.

"Panel?" you asked. Panel? What panel? Your delirious mind was clearly confused, "Who's that?"

"Y/N, the con. The convention panel?" Jensen actually sounded worried. They probably should've thought to give you some sort of medicine to do something about the fever you had before they'd left.

"Oh," you closed your eyes again, almost falling asleep, before remembering finally what it was they meant, and after a moment, "Oh! Crap, the panel thing, I'm late."

"No, Y/N, stay there, we've got it covered remember? You can't come. You can say hi to them, though." Jensen interjected quickly.

"Okay, hi guys." you just followed as told.

The crowd responded with a series of hello's.

"'M really sorry. I hope they aren't boring you." the two men could practically hear you closing your eyes. The crowd responded in inaudible chatter. Jensen and Jared walked from the mic for a second.

"Sorry if we woke you, kid." Jared apologized, having just realized they probably could've left you alone, "W also just wanted to check in. See how you're doing."

"How are you feeling?" Jensen asked, but got a mumbled word in response, "Alright, well, just go back to sleep, we'll be up there soon."

Jared hung up the phone, and the two began to answer the last few questions and close up. They waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and started heading back your way.

"Jensen, you got any over the counters with you? Thermometers or anything? All I've got is Advil, and I don't even know what's really bothering her yet other than that cough and being tired."

"Yup. Danneel always makes me carry literally an entire medicine cabinet, just for these moments. I'll go get 'em and meet you there. It'd probably do her some good to eat something, too. I don't know if she's got like, a stomach virus thing going on, though." Jensen answered.

"I'll see what she'll say and let you know."

The two parted ways, and Jared made his way to you. Even though he'd only talked to you just a few minutes before, you were dead to the world by the time he opened the door. The room was boiling, and Jared looked over to the thermostat to see that you'd at some point put it on to 90 degrees.

"Jesus, Y/N, I know you've got a fever, but damn." he said, more so to himself than to you. He looked over at you after turning it down to see you curled beneath what looked like any blanket you could find. He came over and started removing the blankets slowly, and shook you gently to wake you up.

"Y/N, wake up for a minute, it's Jared."

"'Mm." was all you said, until you realized your layers of warmth had been moved, "What're doing? It's cold."

"Y/N, you're dripping in sweat. It's the fever making you cold."

"I don't have a fever." you retorted, "I'm good. Just tired."

"Kid, you've been tired the whole day. You've been sleeping this whole time." he tried rationalizing.

"I have?" you questioned, closing you eyes again. Jared put his hand to your forehead again. Somehow, it was warmer than the first time he'd done it before the panel. It was then that Jensen finally appeared, a whole bag of things in hand, "Could you bring the thermometer over?"

"Yeah, gotcha." He walked over and rummaged through the bag at the same time, pulling out a thermometer.

"Y/N, we need to take your temperature." Jensen said.

"No need." you said, "'M not sick."

"You are so obviously sick, I'm not asking." again with that stern voice. Jared gave him a "Hey, she's sick, back off a little" sort of look, but it had worked, and you let them take your temp. They were almost shocked when the thing beeped at 103.

"Should we take her to a hospital? That's way too high." Jared asked.

"If it gets any higher, yes, but let's see if we can bring it down first." Jensen replied.

"No hospitals." you demanded, opening your eyes and glaring at them.

"We aren't bringing you yet, Y/N, but I need you to eat this so you can take some meds." he held out two pieces of toast that he must've brought from his room. You hated toast even when you weren't sick.

"I'm not really hungry."

"I know, but it'll help. You haven't told us what's bothering you yet, either." Jared responded.

"Nothing's-" you coughed a few times, a bit violently, "bothering me." "We can see that." Jensen said sarcastically.

"Everything's bothering me." you whispered, giving up.

"Your stomach hurt?" Jensen asked. You waved your hand from side to side to signal a so-so, "Think you'll get sick at all?"

"No, it's not like that, I don't think." you breathed out, another cough escaping you. You took a few bites out of the toast. It made you uncomfortable, but it was then that you realized you probably felt that way since you really hadn't eaten much that day or the one before, which probably contributed to the splitting headache. It didn't go away after, either though. You pushed yourself up. You almost fell over, but Jared put a hand out for you.

"Alright, good. Take this. I'm going to be frank, it tastes disgusting." Jensen handed over a small cup of liquid, "Sometimes, if you take it like a shot, it helps. But you shouldn't know how to take shots, but if you do it, I won't judge." And so you did, causing the two to chuckle slightly at you.

"You were right, about the sleep thing." you slumped back onto the bed heavily, like a brick.

"When am I ever wrong?" Jensen asked, "Don't answer that, actually."

But you were already sleeping again, and the boys decided to stay nearby for now. The next panel wasn't for another few hours anyway, and they just didn't want you to be alone. Also, incase you were wrong about the toast, and it decided to make its return. Jared's phone began to ring loudly, to which he very quickly tried to answer so his obnoxious ringtone wouldn't wake you up again, not that you wouldn't have just fallen back asleep anyway.

"Misha? Hey, what's up?" Jared answered. Jensen walked over to hear what was going on on the other side of the line, but Jared just decided to put it on speaker.

"Where are you guys? I haven't seen you all day. Felicia, Alex, and I are going out for lunch, we were wondering if you guys want to come. I tried calling Y/N, but she didn't answer, so." he rambled.

"That's because Y/N's not feeling well." Jensen said, giving him a solution to his predicament of not being answered, "We're with her right now, so we'll have to pass."

"She's sick? Is she okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. She's just got this crazy fever we've been trying to bring down. Thinking about it now, Jensen, we should probably check it again."

"A fever?"

"It's been at 103 degrees for like, two hours. At least for what we know of. She's probably had one all day, but as a dumb teenager does, she just tried to ignore it."

"If it goes up you should-"

"Yeah, we know," Jared said, "we're trying really hard to avoid that, though. Also, she'll definitely fight against it, I don't know."

Jensen, from the other side of the room at the sound of a beeping thermometer, could be heard on Misha's end, "It went down, finally. 102.2."

"Thank God, I was getting worried."

"Should I come there? Do you guys need any help?" Misha asked.

"I mean you can, but I think we're good. She's just been trying to sleep it off the whole time, so not much is really going on." Jensen was closer to the phone now, "Like, she's got this cough, a headache, and you can hear how congested she sounds, but mostly I think she's just exhausted. I honestly don't know how because she's just been sleeping for hours."

"Fatigue."

"Yeah, poor kid. I don't think I've ever seen her so tired, it almost makes me tired to be honest." Jensen joked.

"Maybe you're just getting sick." Jared slipped in.

"Not possible. I am immune."

"Nobody is immune, Jensen." Misha sighed.

"I'm not nobody." he shrugged.

"Alright, well, we're going to get lunch then. If you need anything let me know, and tell her I hope she feels better." Misha concludes.

"We will, thanks Misha." and with that, Jared hung up. For a few more hours, the two hung around. They were there when you woke from some fever dreams, and when you needed a cough drop, or twelve, and wake you up every now and then to check your temperature, which raised and dropped and raised and dropped, but currently was at a very steady 102.4. But, soon enough, it was time for them to leave for the last panel of the day, and unsurprisingly, you tried to follow suit.

"Y/N, we gotta go, but we'll be back in about an hour from the panel." Jared said. You took a deep breath and sluggishly pushed yourself to the side of the bed. Having been sick, and not having sat up in a few hours, the blood rushed from your head, leaving you dizzy.

"What're you doing?" Jensen asked.

"The panel. I missed the last one I should go to this one. I feel okay." you yawned, then coughed slightly.

"Y/N, really, you shouldn't even think about pushing it like that." Jared said. Jensen walked over to you, half on the bed, clearly trying to steady yourself just from the movement of sitting up. The spinning room honestly almost made the toast make a reprise, and you hiccupped, and held your breath.

"Hey," Jensen grabbed a can quickly, noticing, "are you going to be sick?"

Giving it a minute, it went away, and you shook you head no, causing a huge tension to leave the room.

"Alright, well, remember how you said I was right all the time earlier?" Jensen pun the can down.

"No, must've been the fever." you half joked, causing Jared to laugh.

"Alright- well- okay, shut up. We agreed I'm always right, and that I was right about needing sleep, so I say you need some more." Jensen demanded rather than suggested.

"Yeah, or at least lay around and do nothing. I can't imagine ever sleeping as much as you just did." Jared joked, pushing you very gently back down, with his hand on your back, knowing you would just hit the bed without it. Your eyes were heavy again, and your throat was painfully dry, and you coughed. Your aching head also agreed with the two of them to your dismay.

"Maybe just a bit more." you mumbled, "A few minutes."

"Yeah a few minutes, sure." Jared smiled, knowing you were probably going to knock out for a few hours once again. You opened your eyes again.

"You think," you coughed, "that they'll be mad?

"Who?" Jensen asked.

Feeling pretty sick, you said, "That I don't go? I don’t feel really good."

Ah, the fever comes to play once again, it seems, but the two felt some sort of triumph now that you've at least admitted to being sick, even if it's been hours. It concerned them, though, if you felt bad enough to admit it.

"No, they'll be fine about it. We'll be back soon. Misha or Alex might come in to check on you, alright?" Jared answered, to which you nodded.

They weren't gone long. You spent half the next day sleeping, too, until you could stand without swaying. You did sneak back to the con, against Jensen and Jared's orders, since you really didn't break that fever and cough for a few more days, only to be caught after a tweet of you at the con was trending and the cast caught wind of it. But, eventually, you were better, and got the chance to help Jared take care of an "always immune" Jensen. And he was more stubborn than you were.

#jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #jared padalecki x you #jared padalecki x reader #y/n #supernatural #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #sickfic #spn #spn cast

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botwstoriesandsuch · 3 years

Video

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Finally finished this! Sorry I’m a bit late.

Made this song in pairing with a new Revalink soulmark fic: Paraphrase

Based on a prompt @motherhyrule (Happy Birthday and thanks!)

Read it on AO3 or, here...

Chapter 1: Holes

There were holes in the sky.

While the artificial blue glow of Vah Medoh was a constant reminder of abnormal circumstances of this view—looking out into the east, you could be fooled for a moment to believe in serenity.

The details of the great, inky abyss were blurred by the occasional grey cloud, crawling towards the light of a decaying moon. Its pale, crescent complexion gave a humble glow to the dancing seas of grass and the motionless hills of glistening lake water. Below, wooden huts embraced one another on the edges of an ancient spire. The winds had crafted a fine sculpture, the unique silhouette of Rito Village cast faint shadows on Lake Totori.

There was distant whistling from either the cutting breeze or a bored village guard, perhaps leaning against his spear, dreaming of slumber.

There's a fire, somewhere. A spiral of smoke rises with a delicious aroma fantastic enough to reach the heights of Medoh. Someone making a late-night stew, under the dotted, broken sky.

If you could tear your eyes away from the nature down below, the navy blue canvas would still be there to greet you—a perfect night that cloaked any traces of the sun, as if time was always meant to be this way. Unchanging, and ever an elegant, unrivaled mix of blue, black, and grey.

But of course, unchanging was not everlasting. The perfect canvas was pierced by the frozen heights of Hebra, and flaming stars. Whole armies of them were scattered across the sky, as if the goddess had flicked a handful of embers at the night, burning through the blue and into an unknown.

"I heard that stars are actually holes into the heavens." Link finally said. "Like...They break through the sky, and at night you can look through them and see the great beyond." He leaned back, shifting himself into a more comfortable position on the rocky cliff.

The ghost beside him raised an eyebrow, wings tucked behind his back.

"Oh? And where exactly did you hear that?"

Silence.

The boy looks out to the distant mountains, wreathed in grey clouds with filtered moonlight. When the wind blows his golden hair just the right way, you could catch a glimpse of a familiar expression.

"...I'm not too sure."

Revali nodded, looking back into the night. He stood beside the hero, and let a quiet sigh escape him, the turquoise flames that circled around the Rito seemed to rise and fall with his chest. "Well. I cannot confirm or deny such a thing, but I imagine it's a decent enough fairy tale to entertain the fledglings."

Link scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips. "Really? They don't give you a big ghost book on how all of life works? What's the point of being dead if you don't know the answer to all the fancy questions?"

"I appear to have missed Hylia's educational spirit lecture. Perhaps my schedule was busy at the time. I do apologize."

"Don't apologize to me! You're the one who missed a once-in-a-afterlife-time opportunity."

"..."

"...Too soon?"

"No, it was just a horrible joke."

"Pfft. Well OK, Mr. 'Well I'll be plucked'"

"I don't think I'm going to accept criticism from someone who's sense of humor isn't even a year old."

"Aha...Fair enough."

A chuckle. A nod. A smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Silence.

The moon crawls further west. Winds start to die with conversation.

The ghost sighs again, but of course, no breath escapes him. Something itches in the back of his mind, and he looks up at Medoh.

Her phantom blue eyes pierce both mortal and incorporeal, yet there's a tenderness in the way her head tilts towards Revali—every so slightly so as not to wake the whole kingdom with the groan of gears. The gesture is wordlessly understood by her pilot, something about speaking the unspoken. He clicks his tongue.

I don't remember flipping a relationship advice switch in your control unit...

Medoh's lights glow brighter and dim, playfully.

The Rito shakes his head.

No, he thinks again. It's better this way.

The Champion looks out towards Hyrule Castle, Medoh's red laser aimed directly into the heart of the swirling malice. From this view, it’s almost beautiful. Like layered petals of a rose...

I cannot wait to burn it to the ground.

"Yeah..." Link replied. "Don't worry, Revali. It'll be different this time. I won't let you down, again."

The Rito blinked. "Ah. Did I...say that outloud?"

Link nodded, tilting his head to the side with a smile. "You always seem in such deep thought when looking at Medoh. Your face gets a lot more s—uh...I don't know... " He trailed off, making the wise decision to not finish the sentence. Afterall, he wanted to hang out for a little bit longer before Revali's glares punted him to the Akkalain Sea.

Nonetheless, Revali grimaced. Looking at him? Acknowledging him? Oh, there was nothing worse in the world than that...

Time really can change anything.

"Hmph. Well," Revali turned his head back towards Medoh, "With Windblight gone, it's nice to actually have conversations...As unconventional as they may be." He makes sure that his smile can only be seen by the sky.

"She's good company."

Link picks at loose pebbles, tossing them off the cliff and letting gravity take them to new destinations. His hands are already coated in a dusty beige dust.

"Well, if Medoh ever becomes a bore. My schedule's always open." He chuckles. "I'm certainly a different sort of company in comparison, so I should be able to spice up your d—!"

"No."

The iciness of his tone runs Link's spine cold. He dares to look up at the Champion.

It takes all of Revali's strength to continue staring at the stars.

"You should really stop coming here, Link. You have a job to do, and so do I. You gain nothing by returning here each night."

He pauses, his beak clenched just a bit too tightly.

"You did well, avenging me, but now...Your job here is done, and there is more work to do. The fact that you keep visiting each night while the world fades away is pathetic, honestly. You banter and quip as if you have all the time in the world, as if everything doesn't depend on your success. Quit acting childish."

Silence. It drowns out the whistling wind.

Revali looks at the holes in the sky.

"It'll be morning in a few, so get lost. I don't need you here."

The Rito can feel the hero's eyes tearing into him.

= = = = = = =

"Careful now! Can't have you return with half a head. Can I?" Revali loosed an arrow just above Link's head, striking true in a Bokoblin's right eye.

Link whips around just in time to see the monster drop dead, just a foot away from where the knight stood. He turns back and gives the Rito a thumbs up in gratitude.

"Eye think that solves that problem." Link groans and rolls his eyes, but Revali smirks at the grin he attempts to hide. "Ah...One of the best things about these occasions is that you're in no position to quip back at me with your hands full like that." Revali shoots him a wink. "Perhaps I'll interpret your silence as overwhelming awe for my verbal abilities."

The Rito bows left and right, playfully. "Thank you, thank you. It takes a great deal of practice, but perhaps you'll grace my level of skill one day."

Link signs as best he can with the Master Sword in his left grip.

"You're an asshole."

"Perhaps. But it's your fault for sticking around!"

"On your left..." He suddenly says.

There's no hesitation as Revali moves his head out of the way, letting Link swing his sword over his shoulder. A brilliant beam of blue light escapes the edge of his sword, the disc of energy making contact with a Bokoblin's neck, slicing it asunder mid-roar.

"Hmm. Now that's just breath taki—"

"Shut UP!" Link says, knocking an elbow into his ribs. He starts to sign again. "Let's keep heading east. We need to close this pincer quickly. I'd like to finish before lunch..."

The Rito scans the snow covered path, littered with monster guts and blood. Deep reds and purple stain the pristine, crisp morning. The sky is a deep green, pine trees covering the day, dressed in coats of white. The breeze blows the smell of rotting corpses and hickory his way.

"Alright. Let's get a move on. Don't need the Princesses yelling at us again."

"A bit late for that, don't you think?"

The boys both look up in time to see a large burst of water erupt from a nearby cliff. It cascades into a shimmering slide, that freezes as it flows. A bright red Zora flips through the air and descends on it, landing delicately in front of the two. She gives a warm smile that could melt the winter.

"Shall I assume you ran into some chuchu troubles, again?"

Revali scoffed. "That was one time!"

"Hehehe...chuchu go 'sluuurrrp...'"

"Plus, that incident was entirely a certain knight's fault. I've been nothing but incredibly efficient and productive, since then."

"And your tail feathers are all the better for it!"

Revali thwacked Link with his bow to shut him up. The knight rubbed the back of his head with an "Ow..." and shot a rude glare, but the Rito continued. "So where is the Princess?"

Mipha gestured uphill to where she had come from, her magical waterfall already beginning to melt away. "We finished cleaning up the other end of the Tabantha path. She's met up with Urbosa and Daruk by one of the bridges."

The Zora smiles as she looks between Revali and Link. "I volunteered to check on you two while the others headed back. Neither of you need help cleaning chuchu slime out of your hair, yes? I do have the pliers, this time."

Revali's rageful squawk was drowned out by Link's laughter.

Before the trio's banter could truly serenade with the sounds of the forest, Mipha was off to regroup with the others, and Link was soaring in the sky.

The sky was open and clear, not a speck of grey clouded the air. The sun was perched comfortably on the heights of Tabantha ridge, painting the horizon with strokes of orange, the distance blushing in the morning's presence.

The wind flipped Link's hair back and forth, so he finished tying the braid behind his neck, woven tightly with a single, Prussian blue feather. Its tip looked like someone had dipped it in the moon's pale glow.

Braid or no, the heights above Lake Totori were quite cold, and Link nuzzled himself further into Revali's soft feathers. If he were any softer, it wouldn't be out of the question to drown in him.

"You're distracting me." Revali craned his neck back, raising an eyebrow at his passenger. "Keep it together, back there."

The hero shrugged his shoulders. "It's cold."

"I told you to drink another elixir before I took off."

"I wasn't cold then! Besides," He flopped back into the Rito's soft down. "This is adequate protection." Link's words were slightly muffled as he spoke.

Revali sighed. "You're insufferable..."

Eying the destination down below, the Rito rolled his shoulders to get Link's attention. "Keep steady. We're almost there." He started to dip forward.

"And try not to go flying, I imagine it won't work out well for you."

Before Link could even process his words, his stomach started to drop. Falling fast, Revali arched nearly perpendicular to the ground, his bright blue scarf flapping behind him. The Hylian on his back could do nothing but grip onto his armour for dear life, clothes flapping wildly. His loose sleeves caught the wind, pushing them back to reveal pale gold letters, etched in the underside of his right forearm.

Leaving so soon?

The wind rushed by Link's ears, and the sky quickly faded from the cerulean glow of morning, to the snow laced air of the Hebra. What was once broad strokes of indistinct colors soon morphed into the intricate faults, flaws, and edges of towering grey mountain peaks. With the heavens stolen from them, and the frozen earth quickly coming to greet them, Revali quickly opened his wings to catch the air, swooping just above the ground and shooting forward towards the Flight Range.

Rows of cool safflina and wildberries whizzed by, the scent of smoked boar drawing closer and closer. Revali could practically feel Link's appetite from aura alone. Although, the fact that his grip on his back was starting to tighten didn't exactly keep it subtle, either.

"I left the stew going before we headed out for the mission. It should be perfect by now..." He tucked his wings into himself with a quick twirl as he shot through a narrow pass.

The cold updrafts of the Flight Range now biting into his face; the Rito let his wings expand with a few more great flaps, before landing gracefully on the railing of the wooden platform.

Link practically soared off Revali's back and bounded straight for the simmering pot.

"'Thank you, Revali, for giving me a ride across all of Tabantha without asking for so much as a rupee in return!' Oh, you're so welcome, my dear hero. It's always a pleasure to aid a flightless Hylian in need." He shook his head as he made his way into the hut.

"'Oh, but really Revali! The speed at which you travel, and the strength required to take on my loathsome person as you fly is truly something to admire. It's a miracle you took me with you at all.' Why, you are much too generous with your compliments, Link. I have half a mind to write this all down for—MmMph?!"

In a brilliant move of both telling Revali to shut the fuck up, while also sharing their meal, Link shoved a ladleful of delicious stew in the Rito's beak.

Warm, savoury stew trickled down his throat, banishing the cold from his body in mere moments. His tastebuds were nestled with flavours of nutmeg, tender meat, and the delicate heat of a perhaps a single, spicy pepper.

Link's expression was equal parts, "Will you shut up now?" and "So how's it taste?"

"Not too bad...The prime meat I procured is obviously the main event. But your seasoning skills are certainly something of note..." Revali made his way to one of the cabinets, as Link rolled his eyes.

The Rito set his bow beside the Master Sword, leaning it against the painted wood. His eyes lingered on it for a bit too long, before he scoffed and continued on his routine.

Quiver on the counter; bomb arrows wrapped properly; armour loosened and set aside; scarf—

The feathers on Revali's neck suddenly floofed up at Link's touch. But he didn't dare turn around and risk losing the sensation.

He carefully unfolded the fabric around Revali's neck, and drew it off his shoulder. He wrapped it around himself, and signed at the Rito, "Mine, now."

The Rito chuckled, before turning back around to look at the hero, now adorned with far too much blue. Blue tunic, blue scarf, and sapphire eyes—it wouldn't be out of the question to mistake him for the sky.

Link stretched out his hand, and traced the edges of Revali's face, eventually falling down his neck, and towards his shoulders. His fingers eventually hovered over some familiar words that wrapped down the left side of his neck and down his shoulder.

You should give yourself more credit.

They both did nothing but smile at each for a moment, leaning closer and succumbing to the moment. Revali could already feel Link's breath, and see the bits of snow still sticking to his (horribly) braided hair.

The Hylian saw something curious in the Rito's expression as he planted a kiss on the tip of his beak. Looking back up at his jade eyes, he couldn't help but smile wide. Revali cocked an eyebrow.

"Something to say?"

Quiet. The fire chuckled in the background.

Link finally leaned in and whispered to him.

"You smell like shit."

Revali scoffed loudly before shoving Link to the carpet, where he burst out laughing, the wind carrying it to the spirits above.

"Gods, you're insufferable. Why do I settle for you..."

Link unsuccessfully attempted to toss a pillow in his face in revenge—Revali catching it with ease.

"Beats me! Now come here, you stinky bird." He patted the space in front of the fire. No doubt he wanted to sit between his wings again

"Stew or no, I need you to keep me toasty."

In no time, Revali had sat down and wrapped himself around Link, resting his beak on his head.

A hole in the ceiling let sunlight trickle on them as they warmed up.

= = = = = = =

Link finally sighed, the sound falling off into the void below.

"You-I can't-It was never..." He trails off, before chucking another pebble off the cliff, shaking his head.

"...I'm sorry. I know that you...That we're not really...friends or whatever...I don't mean to force you into anything uncomfortable. I owe you that much..." He looked up at the spirit, a determined look on his face.

"But, don't worry. Whatever mess I was before, whatever person you hated 100 years ago. They're gone, now. I promise I'm different. I promise I won't repeat whatever mistakes I made with you."

Revali just wants to die all over again.

"Well. That's good to hear. Perhaps there's hope for you yet, hero..." He walks forward, so he can't see his face, pointing a translucent feather far out east.

"I'd say your next objection should be Rudania. It's the closest. You can backtrack through whatever roads you've already trailed through getting here." The Rito then waved towards some glistening summits just a bit south. "Although, you said you've been to Kakariko and Hateno, yes? You could probably trek to Zora's Domain from there. The Zora will no doubt be a great asset to your further adventures—"

"Who was I closest to?"

Revali knew it was impossible to feel cold at this point, but he felt something shiver nonetheless.

"What do you mean?"

"Like...the pilots I mean. Was I...particularly close with any of them?"

"Well how should I know!" Revali snapped. He immediately regretted it seeing the look in Link's eyes. "I mean...sorry..."

Silence.

"...Mipha would be overjoyed to see you, I'm sure." He pointed again towards the cliffs surrounding Zora's Domain. "She had quite the heart...She'll make better company than I, I'm sure."

"Mhm...Alright." Link nodded to himself.

"But whatever you choose, don't try taking on Naboris, yet. Urbosa was one of the strongest warriors that even I've ever met. So I imagine that what awaits there is...deserving of more preparation."

The moon escaped from the clutches of a grey cloud, and the two of them were bathed in moonlight.

The knight's sword on his back glistens.

"I'll start making preparations tomorrow, and I'll finally be out of your hair." Link scratched the back of his head. "Although...I hope you don't mind if I come back every now and then to get pointers on using your Gale. I really only used it that one time when you gave it to me, and I've been a bit scared ever since, aha..."

Revali nodded. "That would be a more productive use of your time, yes."

Link finally stood, adjusting the strap of his sword around his shoulder.

"S-So...with Mipha. I actually heard from Kass that...uh he's—well you see, I figured you could confirm if she actually—"

"Stop." His response was as sudden as thunder. Link started sputtering again.

"S-Sorry. I know you just s—"

"Stop doing that. Stop trying to learn about the past, there's nothing for you there." Revali poked a feather at Link's head, which surprisingly made physical contact as he flinched away. "You've been given a gift, you understand? You have the luxury of being unburdened by the pains and memories of 100 years ago, while the rest of us have been stuck wallowing in what we once knew for over a century. Things that we can never attain now that we are dead." He glared, eyes sharp enough to stab into Link's flesh.

"It'd be an insult to the rest of us to throw away such a gift. So stop being ungrateful, and move on."

Silence.

Revali sighed, turning back towards Medoh. "Now get los—"

"You have no right to speak to me like that!"

The Rito whipped around. "Excuse me?"

"You don't know what it's like!" Link stomped a foot down. "You don't know what it's like, to have no attachments, no nothing to grasp onto!"

The Hylian shook his head, looking at his hands. "You're dead because of my failures, and for that, I'm truly sorry. I really am. But..." He looked the Rito, dead in the eyes. "But now I have nothing of value. Nothing to tell me what I'm worth, besides being a fighter. Besides defeating the Calamity. I don't know what kind of person I need to be," He waves a hand at Revali, "Or even what person I should try not to be. I can't...I don't want to just be nothing. Nothing but a sword and useless snippets of a dead past.

"So don't try and tell me there's nothing for me in the past. I need to know what I was, what I lost, and what I did wrong. N-Not just for me, but for everyone's sake! I want to truly know what this is all for, even if it hurts me..."

Link looked down, caressing his right wrist. "I want to know...what it was like to be complete...at the very least..."

Revali looked him up and down, something clawing up the inside of his chest, threatening to escape as dangerous words.

"...Let me see your arm."

"What—?"

"Hurry up, and just come."

Link cautiously stepped closer to Revali, extending his right arm towards him, like a handshake. But he roughly tugged him closer and folded the sleeve of his Rito garb away, exposing the skin to the crisp night air.

Pale gold letters adorned Link's inner arm, running from his wrist to his inner elbow.

Why did you think it was impossible?

The Rito nodded to himself. He had noted the first word being different when he had first reunited with Link, but it put him at ease—and completely shattered something—to have his suspicions confirmed.

"Do you know what this is, hero?"

"Yeah, it's a soulmark. This is probably what my soulmate 100 years ago said when they—"

"No." Revali let his arm fall, turning away. "It's a soulmark alright, but your soulmate is very much alive."

"Wh-What?!" Link started to walk up to Revali. "T-That's impossible! I-It's been over a hundred—"

"That's not the soulmark you had when I met you." Revali said simply. "You died. You were revived. You are adorned with a new mark, and are destined for someone new. Or someones. Or, maybe your soulmate is just yourself, it really depends..." He turned his head back.

Link was just staring at his arm. He bore no smile, but Revali could see the new fire in his eyes.

"It's like I said. It'd be an insult to go digging up the past. But I suppose I can't stop you..." Revali continued to make his way to Medoh. "You want something to fight for? Fight for that..."

The moon disappeared behind another cloud, and the glow of Medoh was all that bathed them. Link finally looked up, calling after the ghost in the mist.

"I...Thank you, Revali. But just so you know..." The Rito Champion turned, staring directly at the hero's determined expression.

"This doesn't change what I want. I still intend to know who I was."

There was quiet as they each looked at their ghosts.

Revali sighed, giving a sad nod.

"I know."

He disappeared in glowing blue flames, the embers falling towards the stars.

#if you reblog this revali comes to your house and gives you a hug. it's a proven fact #revalink #paraphrase revalink #mudkip music #botw fanfiction #botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #soulmark au #botw soulmark au

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hawkinsschoolcounselor · 4 years

Note

Why do you think so many fans, even those who wouldn’t be considered casual viewers of the show think that those who romantically ship Mike and Will are kidding themselves? Sometimes I feel like I’m missing something, like we’re not even watching the same show. From my perspective, it’s beyond me to how someone could look at Mike and El’s romantic relationship, especially after s3, and think it’s proper.

Great question. I’ve touched on this issue a time or two before, but perhaps never in such a direct manner. I think there’s several things in play here that lead to the more “mainstream” fans considering it crazy when Mike and Will are seen as a romantic pairing. I think these same causes also lead to fans missing how improper, to use your terms, Mike and El’s relationship is. Some of these things are more valid than others, but they’re all valid in the sense that they are real, meaning that people aren’t just being petty. There are those out there who are petty, of course, but I think it’s unfair to cast all fans we disagree with in with that group.

First, let’s get this out of the way, heteronormativity maintains quite the stranglehold on American culture. Yes, we’ve come a long, long way. Gay characters and couples are portrayed in a much more positive light compared to twenty or more years ago. Still, they continue to be treated as a shock, either in behavior or reveal. By that I mean that these characters are either blatantly obvious or a complete surprise. There is seldom any middle ground here. This is, in my opinion anyway, a remnant of the transition of gay characters from caricatures to genuine characters. Fans, American fans at least, want to seem accepting to gay people, but they also want it crystal clear that gay people are different from them. To quote Homer Simpson from Homer’s Phobia, a 1997 episode of The Simpsons, “I like my beer cold, my TV loud, and my homosexuals flaming!”

The 90s were a time when gay people were starting to be seen as decent people instead of deviants. They still weren’t equal, though, and were often used as props and novelties. The Gay Best Friend trope came out of this idea that gay people were fun and exotic, and many would also use them as a way to show how progressive they were. It was a step in the right direction, perhaps, but gay people were still not seen as equals.

Why is this important? Well, maybe it’s not, but not only is Stranger Things the product of two brothers who grew up in that era of thinking, but so is the largest segment of the viewership. Most Stranger Things viewers fall in the 18-29 and 30-44 demographics. I, myself, fall in the latter category. While we all laughed at Homer’s idiotic homophobia, we all knew deep down that we were similarly taken in by stereotypes and heternormativity. That is to say, that being straight was the normal, expected way of things, and gay people was something neat and trendy, but that only happened to other people.

This mindset persists today, though it does seem to be slowly eroding. We still expect most characters to be straight. I suppose, in some ways, this makes sense. The majority of people in America (and likely the world) still identify as heterosexual, so, technically, statistically, being LGBT is “abnormal.” Still, the degree to which I see LGBT people being open about their identities sometimes catches me off guard when I stop to think about it. It’s something that was unimaginable when I was a teenager, barring being in an identified gay club or neighborhood. The fact that it catches me off guard, despite identifying as bisexual, is proof that those mechanisms of my upbringing persist.

I am able to see the romantic undertones of Mike and Will’s relationship because I’ve been there. I’ve been in love with a same-sex friend and been afraid to say anything about it. I’ve agonized over whether it was real or just a phase. I’ve struggled with hiding it. I’ve tried to keep my feelings hidden while also letting them slip out in controlled bursts of not-quite-platonic gestures. I’ve even wondered how I could be “like that” when I acted and dressed just like any other guy I knew. Despite living it, I still saw “it” as something foreign and different. It’s only because I lived it that I can see through the heteronormativity and recognize homosexual love in “straight” TV and movie characters. I’m sorry, but Poe Dameron was definitely into Finn, and Finn, at the very least, idolized Poe, and you can’t convince me otherwise, no matter what Disney tried to pull by giving them both inconsequential female love interests.

(Christ, this is turning into a real rant here, oh well, the bottle has been opened.)

So, yeah, heteronormativity basically tells us that if characters are gay then they’ll act a “certain way” so we know. Mike and Will don’t do this, so, to most fans, they aren’t gay. Heteronormativity and pop culture tropes also tell us that male and female leads are meant to end up together. Now, in defense of other fans, the Duffers do play around with all sorts of tropes, so it’s understandable that people would expect things to be just as formulaic in Stranger Things. The problem these fans don’t see, however, is that the Duffers seem to like subverting the tropes.

For those of you who aren’t aware, subverting a trope means that we are led to believe that we’re being shown something we’ve seen time and time again, only to end up with something else. Season 1 was so big on this that I fell in love with the show. Adults Are Useless? Joyce did not sit around while the kids solved the mystery. Hopper wasn’t the ineffectual drunk cop I was expecting him to be. Jerk Jock? No, Steve is actually a nice, if dopey, guy once he stops letting his friends influence him. Virgin Survivor? No, sex is not seen as a vice needing to be punished, so Barb dies instead of Nancy. The Duffers know what we expect to see, they tease us with it, then pull the rug out from under us.

So, what do we expect in terms of romance? We expect our opposite sex leads to pair up. This would mean Mike & El and Joyce & Hopper as our kid and adult lead pairs, respectively. Mike & El, in particular, seems to be something they’ve tantalized fans with, both in the show and marketing. We can look at that relationship, though, and see that it’s not built on much. That’s somewhat in line with many kid relationships, so, really, it’s expected that it would similarly fizzle out as those relationships generally do. These are two kids who knew each other for a week, then spent a year apart. If anything, they’re more in love with the ideas of each other they created in that time apart than anything else. This could explain why their relationship was so shallow once they’re together again. We all experienced this type of crush or relationship before, the one where we don’t really know the person so we create a version of them in our minds. This version often clashes with the real one once we get to know them. Still, we’ve all been there.

This brings me to my final point: identification. We identify with characters when we watch TV shows and movies. I dare say most, if not all, of us can identify with these kids getting these crushes and early relationships. The youngest fans probably identify even more since they’re currently in those stages of life. I’m sure many young fans identify with either Mike or El, and perhaps fantasize about being with the other (or both?). Whether we realize it or not, we’re casting our own wants and needs onto the characters. Some fans want Mike and El together because it validates their own feelings and experiences.

I know that I certainly identify with Mike and Will through my own teenage experiences. I identify with other characters for more mature, adult reasons, as well. Yes, a part of me ships Mike and Will because of this. The difference here, compared to other ships I’ve gotten behind, is that this actually seems real. There is canon evidence that Mike and Will appear to have non-platonic feelings for each other, feelings built over a very long friendship. Mike legit seems like the closeted, possibly not even aware, gay kid going through the motions of a straight relationship. Will seems like he’s actively suppressing any romantic urges because he’s spent his life being bullied for being queer. They’ve been written to have more genuinely romantic moments than Mike and El have had. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, the writers will have some explaining to do if they don’t get together. Many fans will miss it, due to the reasons mentioned above, but it’s all been laid there before us. Nobody should be surprised, but they will be.

#stranger things #byler #heteronormativity

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keepthyfaithandthylight · 3 years

Text

Reincarnation au part 3

After quite the tiring day, Max at last got to walk around the city as he always did. That is when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Max wasn’t necessarily expecting any texts or calls, and immediately assumed it was Augustin, and that perhaps something bad had happened.

Either way, I should probably check it.

He then sat down on the nearest bench, and pulled out his phone. To his surprise, however, the message was not from Augustin.

Camille:

It’s been a while since we last talked, figured I would check in on you and remind you that I haven’t forgotten you. How’s school going this year?

Max swallowed his joy upon seeing the name. It wasn’t necessarily proper to start giggling like a school child with pure excitement in the middle of the street, after all.

‘School is.. different. Glad to hear from you though. How’s Lucile?’

Max watched the people rush by as he waited for a response, and as usual he did not have to wait long to receive one.

Camille:

She’s good! Really stressed though, she and her mom are trying to plan. I've tried helping but I’m not really good at that kind of stuff. At this point I’m just moral support lol.

Max chuckled, he could see it perfectly. All of them gathered around the kitchen table, making input. Lucile was probably the one to tell him to simply be moral support.

‘Oh? Well I’m glad to hear that she’s doing well aside from that. How about you?’

Max stared, and almost immediately the dots popped up on screen. Most of the time, Camille was good at responding in a timely manner.

Camille:

I’m doing good myself, mostly just over the moon excited. I had something to ask of you, Max.

Max frowned. The phrasing was worrying.

‘What would that happen to be?’

He asked, and then there was a pause of about 30 seconds before the dots popped up again.

Camille:

Well, you’ve been a really good friend of mine for years now so I was figuring maybe you could, you know, be best man at the wedding. Totally your choice, of course.

Max began to smile, already typing out his response.

‘Of course I’ll be best man at your wedding, Camille. Why you’d think you even have to ask is beyond me, you could have simply told me to be best man at your wedding and I would have agreed.’

He chuckled, lightly. It was true, of course.

Camille:

Lol. It’s polite to do, I figured you wouldn’t really want to if you were voluntold. Anyway, have you gotten a replacement for me yet? Haha

Max rolled his eyes at Camille’s wording. If he was there he would most likely be smacking him upside the head.

‘Yeah, and Camille stop saying replacement. No person is replaceable.’

The dots began immediately.

Camille:

Alright whatever you say Socrates. I’ll have to message you later, needed for moral support again.

Max chuckled once more at his phone.

‘Alright, take care. Tell Lucile I said hello.’

He watched as ‘read’ appeared under the text, before sliding his phone back into his pocket and standing to his feet.

Mind as well get some more coffee.

Slowly, he made his way down the street, to the coffee shop that he always visited. The bell jingled as he opened the door, and the barista looked up.

“Max! It’s been a few months!” She called, happily, her cheeks nearly split with the grin on her face. He smiled back at her and nodded. “The usual?” She asked, and he nodded once more.

“I’m surprised you remember.” Max commented, amused, watching the barista hurry around like a bee.

“Oh please, that’s one of the most common drinks I make. Probably because you’ve always been the most frequent customer. I’m pretty sure you have a caffeine addiction.” The young girl commented, with a shrug.

“Perhaps, but hey it won’t kill me so I don’t see a problem with it.” Max replied, returning her shrug, watching as the girl snickered.

“Well if you drink too much at one time it will.” She stated, with an amused expression, the bleached ends of her hair falling in front of her face. “Either way, more business for my manager I suppose.” She sighed, Max seeing an opportunity for humor.

“All I am to you is a paycheck?” He asked, mischievously, earning an eyeroll from the barista.

“No, Max, you’re my friend. I was making a point.” She replied, before handing him his cup of coffee. “$9.57.” Max dug around in his pocket for his wallet.

“Let me tell you I have had the strangest day today.” He said, and the girl looked up with a raised brow, only for a moment.

“How so?” She asked, returning to busying herself cleaning.

“Well it’s mostly my art history teacher, she seems normal aside from the fact that she acts like she knows something I don’t. About myself.” He replied, already drinking a swig of coffee.

“Hmm.. maybe she’s a witch.” Commented the barista, sounding abnormally serious in her comment.

“I doubt that, but..” Max responded, holding his coffee close to his chest.

“I was joking.”

“Oh.” He chuckled lightly at his misstep, smiling fondly to himself. Just then, the bell jingled as a seemingly overworked man walked in. He looked strangely familiar, but again a lot of people did to Max at this point. “I’ll get going, it was lovely seeing you again Sandy!” He called, already halfway out the door.

“You too Max!” Replied the girl, before turning to the hunched over man.

Ok. What on Earth is happening.

***

“-yeah, I would say that is pretty weird. Though, the same thing has happened to me a few times so I wouldn’t say it’s out of the ordinary too much.” Said Antoine, who sat aggressively drying his hair with a towel.

“That’s reassuring.” Said Max, tiredly, as he stared up at the ceiling. “But why is it happening? It’s like some weirdly intense deja vu that only happens in certain situations with certain people. I don’t think I like it at all.” He continued, desperate for some sort of answer. Obviously he wasn’t expecting one, his roommate was not God.

“I dunno, but that just about sums it up. I know that Georges guy has had it happen too. He literally stopped me before I was about to leave. Was really weird, not sure I like him.” Antoine stated.

“Really?” Max asked, hesitantly, looking to the side.

“Yeah. Maybe we should all just have group therapy or something, in a circle of metal foldable chairs.” Antoine replied, with a shrug.

“How would we even arrange that?-“

“I was joking.”

“Oh-“ silence. “Did Ms. Rozzero happen to say anything to you today?” Max asked again, nervously.

“Not really, no. She barely even acknowledged the fact that I exist.” Antoine answered. “But from what I could see she is abnormally fond of you. To the point where it’s weird, like., creepy weird.” He continued, before shuddering, face wrought with discomfort in the situation.

“Now I feel a little better about being weirded out. As in, I feel like less of a jerk.” Max stated, staring at his hands as he sat up.

“Don’t worry about it, honestly, I would be weirded out too. Im already pretty weirded out actually.” Antoine commented. The street lamp filtered in from outside the window, giving the room a faint orange glow. If Max wasn’t feeling so uneasy, he would have quite enjoyed it. “If she keeps doing it bring it up to her though, maybe we’ll all have to team up and get her to stop. I mean, even the football kid noticed, with his sheer size he could be pretty intimidating, and as much as I do not like the guy he could be an ally in this situation.” The younger continued, before looking over at Max with a look of concern.

“Yeah, I guess your right.” The latter sighed, before suddenly becoming his more optimistic self again. “Anyway, wanna just swing down to the Chinese restaurant really quick and get some take out?” He suggested, watching the smile form on his roommates face.

“Hell yeah.”

#frev #claws out for the main 5 #frev but make it a poorly written reincarnation au.#these are getting worse and worse the more I write them.

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crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years

Text

Wyvernlair

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Three

A JSE Fanfic

Ta-da! Another chapter! :D This is the one I was talking about, with a lot of worldbuilding and new characters. It’s also one of my longer stories, and I had to cut out a scene near the end, but don’t worry, you’ll see that next time. Now that Chase is officially part of the Masked Phantoms, it’s time for him to get to know the layout of Wyvernlair, meet new people, and learn new things. So get ready for a whole lot of all that. Hope you guys enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was clear that Jackie was eager to have someone new to show around Wyvernlair. He led the way, pointing out important features of the camp. Most of the center area was taken up by tents for people to stay in. In addition, there was an area dedicated to cooking, with campfires and stacks of pots and dishes, a wide, clear area for people to practice sword fighting and other combat, and a large space for storage.

All this was fairly normal for any camp. Or at least, that’s what Chase figured, considering he’d never been in a camp of any kind. But he was pretty sure that the massive skeleton made Wyvernlair much different than any other camp. Every bit had been planned around the bones embedded in the ground. The tents were encircled by the dragon. The cooking fires were dotted around the leg bones. The combat field was spread out along the wings that extended out from the rest of the body. And the storage was inside the oversized ribcage, canvas stretched over the gaps to keep out the weather.

Inside the ribs was the most incredible place Chase had ever been. He kept his head craned upward, following the curve of the ivory bones, each one big enough that it would take three full grown men to encircle it. The storage inside the ribcage was much less impressive in comparison, though he did have to admit he’d never seen this amount of weapons, armor, parchment, and foodstuffs in one place. Not to mention all the miscellaneous items as well, like lanterns and chests for storage.

“Oh, you need a jacket!” Jackie suddenly said, bringing Chase back to the conversation. “You can take one of the communal ones, over here.” He grabbed Chase’s hand and pulled him to the side of the ribs, where the chests were full of various clothing, each labeled with types and sizes. “Unless you’re a cloak person?”

“Uh, no, I...jackets are good,” Chase said dazedly.

“Great! What are you, a five?” Jackie waited for Chase to nod, then headed over to the appropriate chest. “We don’t have that many fives left...a lot of people have measurements around there.” He flipped open the chest lid. “Um...yeah, there’s just one. Hope you like yellow.” After a bit of rummaging, he pulled out a dull flaxen jacket and tossed it in Chase’s direction.

Chase fumbled for a bit before catching it. It was a fairly normal jacket, and he quickly pulled it on. Autumn in the mountains was not a time to walk around without one. He’d been chilly all through their walk.

“Alright, all that’s left is the skull,” Jackie said. “I don’t know how often you’ll be in there, but it’s good to—”

“I’m sorry, I’m still caught up on the fact that I’m inside a dragon skeleton,” Chase interrupted.

Henrik, who’d been following the tour quietly and letting Jackie do all the talking, suddenly burst into laughter. “I told you. It is shocking, isn’t it?”

“Well...yes!” Chase looked back up at the curve of the ribs above him, slowly shaking his head. “I heard dragons were large, but I didn’t really...picture it, before this.”

“Technically, this is not the skeleton of a full-blooded great dragon,” Henrik said.

“What?”

“The dragon that most people think of, with four legs and two or more wings? That is a great dragon,” Henrik explained. “I’m sure you noticed this one only has two legs; it was likely a wyvern/great dragon crossbreed.”

“Hence the name ‘Wyvernlair,’” Jackie added.

“What’s the difference?” Chase asked.

“Wyverns only had two legs and larger wings. They walked a bit like birds do,” Henrik continued. “And they were usually much smaller. There are some accounts of humans riding them. So this was either an abnormally large wyvern, or it was a crossbreed with the great dragons. Which, yes, could grow as big as this, but that was not so common.”

“Elders,” Chase muttered. The fact that there were once creatures as large as this roaming the land, big enough to encircle half a town...it made him glad they weren’t around anymore.

“It was really lucky that we found this place,” Jackie said. “Not because of the skeleton, but because of its location. There are no trees growing near the bones, so we have room to spread out, and we have our backs to a rock wall, which makes it more defensible.” He paused. “Anyway, the last part on our tour is the skull, and then we can set you up with a tent. Oh, actually, the spare tents are kept here. Let’s grab that now.”

“I get my own?” Chase said, surprised.

“Of course, we have plenty to spare,” Jackie said casually. “We brought a whole bunch up, but recruitment has been slow.”

“Nonexistent,” Henrik muttered. He reached into one of his belt pouches and took out a small flask, taking a quick drink.

“Well...yes,” Jackie admitted. “But let’s go, we’re almost done!”

The skull was just as massive as the rest of the skeleton, with wicked sharp teeth as tall as Chase. He stared at them as Jackie and Henrik led him around to the back, where there was a slight gap where the skull met the spine. They passed through that gap and ended up inside. Much like the ribs, the skull had been converted into a room, with canvas blocking the eye sockets and nasal cavity to make a rough roof. This wasn’t as large as the storage, but it was still at least three times as large as Chase’s cottage. There were more chests in here, and a few rickety desks where people—masks always nearby—sat, reading and writing on parchment. They all glanced up as the three men entered the room, then looked away.

In the middle of the skull was a large circular table, made of solid, dark wood and surrounded by chairs. Various maps were spread out on the surface of the table, held down with weights.

Chase glanced at the largest map, and immediately recognized it as a map of the kingdom of Glasúil. A detailed one, too, covering almost all of the island. The Dragon’s Teeth mountains ran down the center, with the smaller Northaven range branching off to the east, along the northern shore. The Southern Moors were present, slowly merging into the sea. Rivers and forests he’d never heard of crossed the parchment, and each major town and city was represented by a labeled black dot. The only part of the map left blank was the area to the west of the Dragon’s Teeth, which simply had “Wyldwood” written across it.

“Oh hey, you like the maps?” Jackie asked, noticing Chase’s attention. “We use those for planning stuff. A lot of strategy and meetings happen here. This is also where we keep all our records and sort through all our messages with other Phantom locations. Since you’re part of the group now, you’ll eventually go on missions, and if that’s the case, you’ll have to write a report and deliver it here.”

“Missions?” Chase repeated. His head was starting to swim a bit with all the new information.

“Well, if you want to,” Jackie said awkwardly. “I mean, you could stay here and do medicine with Henrik, or be part of our administration—”

“Administration?” This time, Chase laughed a bit when he repeated the word.

“Organization is very important,” Schneep emphasized. “There are a lot of us, and we do a lot of things. If we have no organization then we do not know what we’re doing!”

“Yeah, and those things we do are...missions,” Jackie said.

“Alright, what kind of...missions?” Chase asked.

“Depends. We might need to investigate someplace, or something, or someone. We might need to go in and stop an act of injustice, or rescue people who’ve been hurt.” Jackie paused. “If...if we’d heard about the King’s plans for the mountain villages to burn, then we could have...shown up. In time.”

Chase felt his stomach twist at the mention of the burning villages. There was guilt in Jackie’s voice; he clearly felt awful that the Phantoms couldn’t do anything to prevent that. “Well.” Chase took a deep breath. “I guess we’ll have to make sure things like that don’t happen again.”

Jackie nodded. Henrik placed a hand on his shoulder, and that seemed to steady him. He drew himself to his full height and stiffened his posture. “Exactly. The King may think he can get away with any of this, just because of his position. But the people will not stand for it. We will not stand for it. As long as his actions cause death and damage, we will work to remove him.”

For a moment, Chase was in awe at the resolve Jackie showed. He wasn’t that physically intimidating, being almost a head shorter than Chase and a head and a half shorter than Henrik, but he had a commanding aura. Maybe the strength of his conviction was catching. “Exactly,” Chase said. “That’s—that’s what I want to do.” His simple statement sounded lame in comparison.

Jackie smiled. “And that’s why we’re so glad to have you.” He relaxed a bit, looking over at Henrik. “And if Schneep likes you, then I do, too.”

Chase couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I-I’m sorry? What did you call him?”

Henrik’s expression fell. He took his hand off Jackie’s shoulder and pushed him with his shoulder. “I told you, stop using that.”

“But it’s so fun to say,” Jackie said cheerfully. “Chase, did you know that Henrik’s surname is Schneeplestein?”

Chase fought to stifle his giggles. Now he remembered that particular fact from his first meeting with Henrik. “That’s—well, I’m sure that’s a usual surname in Alterde—”

“It is not,” Henrik said wearily. “It sounds just as ridiculous over there. Go ahead, laugh about it. Get it out of your mind now.”

“No no, I’m fine, I promise.” Chase coughed a bit, clearing his throat of laughter. “At least you have a surname.”

“Ah, it is common to have one where I am from,” Henrik waved away the comment. “I know here it is a nobility thing, but not in Alterde or its neighbors.”

“Really?” Chase said, interested.

“Really. And it is much easier than your family names,” Henrik said bluntly, turning to leave.

“Hey! Wait for us!” Jackie took Chase’s hand and the two of them followed Henrik out of the dragon’s skull.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Chase? Are you awake?”

The first thing Chase heard when waking up was someone calling his voice. Instinctively, he rolled over and stretched his arm to the right. Only to be met with nothing but empty space. Oh. Right.

He opened his eyes to a canvas wall and ceiling. He’d gotten his tent yesterday, and Jackie had shown him how to set it up in a spot near the dragon spine. From there, the rest of the day had passed slowly. Awkwardly, too, as Chase didn’t feel up to approaching any of the masked people who were part of the Phantoms. It felt...strange. Like he was constantly intruding on something. So he just spent time in his tent, and when dinnertime rolled around, he showed up to get some stew from the cooking fires then went off to eat on his own. Eventually, the sun set, and he figured that was time to go to bed.

“Chase?” The voice called again.

“Henrik?” Chase asked, sitting up and wiggling out of the bedroll he’d been given.

“Oh, you are awake. Can I open the flap?”

“Go ahead.” It wasn’t like he was indecent or anything. He was actually still wearing his clothes from the day before. Maybe he should check out the storage, see if they had anything else he could use.

Henrik pushed open the flap of the tent and ducked inside, pushing his owl mask up onto his forehead. “Ah, good. I have something for you.” He held out a folded piece of parchment.

Puzzled, Chase took it. “What is this?” He asked as he unfolded it.

“Well, now that you are a Phantom, there are some things you need to be familiar with,” Henrik said. “Jackie put together a schedule for you for today.”

Chase silently looked at the words. He blinked. Then squinted. Then looked back up at Henrik. “Um...I’m sorry, but I...can’t read this.”

Henrik didn’t even have a response for that. “You...cannot read?”

“I can, but only a little,” Chase admitted. “I know the alphabet and numbers, but as for words, I can read what I’m familiar with. Food, animal names, archery gear. Things like that.” He trailed off into a mumble, somehow embarrassed. Reading had never been an issue before. Everyone in town knew enough to get by. But now, he wondered...was that not normal?

“That’s okay,” Henrik said, picking up on Chase’s tone. “Jackie was the same way. We had to teach him.” He chuckled a bit at the memory. “I will explain, then. After breakfast, you will meet with Nemet in the infirmary, she will give you a basic medicine check. To see what you know and fill you in on anything you need. Then you will head down to the tip of the tail, and meet a man there called Tripp. I understand you do not know that much about magic, so he will give you an overview. Then there will be lunch, and then you will head to the combat field to start training with Holly and Lukas.”

Chase started. “What was that last name?”

“Lukas,” Henrik repeated. “You will probably be working with him more, since you seem inclined with bows, and not closer combat.”

“Right.” Chase nodded. That name sounded familiar, like he’d heard it recently...

“Then come back for dinner, and I will check up on you,” Henrik continued. “And by then, hopefully you will know what you want to do most in the group. Medicine, organization, and such. And we will get you a temporary mask.”

“So, why masks?” Chase asked. “I like the idea, but...why? Who came up with it?”

“Oh, the mask concept was Jackie’s idea, but the animal part was added by—by someone else,” Henrik said. There was an odd pause there...was he going to say something else? A name, perhaps? “We wear masks so people will not recognize us. Many of us have friends and family who would be at risk if the King’s people knew we were working against him. Like, for me. You know I am a traveling doctor, yes? Well, when I met you last year, I was already working with the Phantoms. Can you imagine what would happen if someone recognized me as a rebel?”

Chase shivered. “Yea, I can.” If the King was willing to burn down the mountain villages for an unknown reason, what would he do to find one of the rebels? With that thought in mind, he slowly stood up. “So...I’ll get started, then. Meeting with all these strangers.”

“Do not be nervous, Chase,” Henrik said gently. “Everyone new we find has to go through something like this. And these are some of our best people.”

“Thanks,” Chase said. “That’s good to know.” Still, his stomach was slowly tying itself in knots as he headed towards the cooking fires, about to start the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a quick breakfast of toasted bread—light, but with those stomach knots, still hard to get through—Chase headed up the gentle slope towards the infirmary cave in the rock wall. Slipping through the flap in the canvas, he found it unchanged from the day before, when he’d been discharged. Nobody was inside, except for...

“Ibis?” Chase asked.

“Hello, Chase.” Ibis smiled at him. Her mask was off, revealing her features and round, dark eyes for the first time. “It’s good to see you again. And please, my name is Nemet.”

“Oh! Oh, I’m supposed to meet with you.” That explained why she was standing near the entrance, she was waiting for him.

“Yes, yes.” Nemet nodded. “Henrik has told me to give you a basics in medicine.” She turned and headed towards the back, indicating he should follow. “Come, come. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Nemet had set three chests on top of each other, making a sort of rough chest-height table. On top of the flat surface of the chest-table were a series of bottles and bags, each one neatly labeled. “Here. These are some of our common tonics and medicines we use here. Tell me what you recognize.”

Chase considered the layout before him. There were probably about thirty in total, if he had to guess. “This is for colds, right? And fevers? And this one, too. And these dried leaves, they’re for nausea. Oh, and this will put you to sleep if you put it in water or stew. This is a salve, also for fevers. And this is a balm for sores. And this will stop infection on cuts and scrapes. And...that’s what I know.”

“Impressive,” Nemet nodded.

“Really? That’s only a fraction of the total,” Chase said doubtfully.

“Most people who join up only know redleaf, bainruish, and seedbane.” Nemet indicated each medicine as she listed them. “Fevers, cuts, and...well, I’m sure you know what seedbane is for, even if you said nothing. You are married, after all.” She laughed as Chase slowly turned red. “Ah, my apologies. The point is, you are ahead of most others.”

“Do we really need all of these?” Chase asked, quickly moving on.

“Oh, yes. You know that when people gather together that sicknesses spread easily. Many of these will help to cure a specific disease, while others are a general tonic, like redleaf.” Nemet paused, then picked up about ten of the medicines and put them on the floor. “Henrik says you are not so much caught up on magic, so we will leave these ones out of our discussion for now.”

Chase started at that. The concept of mixing medicine with magic made him...uneasy. He may not know that much about magic, but he knew it could be dangerous. “I was wondering, Nemet, what did you do before you joined the Phantoms? I know Henrik’s a traveling doctor, are you the same?”

“Not exactly.” Nemet shrugged. “I was a student of medicine back home.”

“And where was that?”

“A land called Kha’Nyphthis.” Nemet grinned a bit at Chase’s confused expression. “You would not have heard of it. It is to the south, on another continent, but not the same continent as Henrik’s Alterde. We have great schools and libraries there, the best in the world. I was learning to become a doctor, and had almost finished my schooling, but one of the final requirements was to learn the medicine of another land. I chose here, Glasúil, because you are well-known for your medicine. But then I arrived, and saw the state of things, and...ah, well.” Her expression fell for a moment.

“I’m...sorry,” Chase said awkwardly. “Do you...ever think about going back?”

Nemet nodded briefly. “Of course. I have family, friends. But I cannot just abandon things. It’s not in my nature to leave things unsettled.” She took a deep breath, and moved on. “But as for your basics in medicine, let me start by getting you familiar with the ones you didn’t know.”

It was a while later before Chase left the infirmary, his head feeling stuffed with all the new information Nemet had drilled into him. Already, some of it was starting to slip away. And he immediately knew that he could never be a doctor. If these were the basics, he couldn’t even begin to think about what would be required to complete the training to become one.

But he didn’t have time to let all that new knowledge sink in. Judging by the sun’s position, it was getting close to noon, and to lunch. He still had to meet up with someone else before it was time to eat. So he hurried onward, running along the curve of the dragon’s bones, following them as they got smaller and smaller, until they eventually merged into the packed ground. Chase slowed to a stop and looked around, confused. This was the end of the tail, wasn’t it? So...where was—

“Hey you’re the new one, right?”

Chase yelped and spun around. A man was sitting between the spine bones of the dragon, almost unnoticeable in the shadow between them. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said slowly. “Are you, uh...Tripp?”

The man nodded, hopped to his feet, and walked over to Chase. Standing up, he was short, even shorter than Jackie. He wore a dark brown cloak that reached his knees, and of course, a mask. This one was shaped like a ram’s head, complete with curved horns, and the black symbol on the forehead was actually four different symbols arranged in a diamond formation. After a moment of looking at them, Chase realized they were the suits often used on playing cards. How...odd. The man reached up and took off the mask, ruffling his golden brown hair and revealing dark eyes. “Tripp, son of Seamus,” he said shortly. “And you are...?”

“Chase. Son of Brody,” Chase said automatically. “Henrik told you I was—”

“You’re not up-and-up on magic and need a course, yea,” Tripp interrupted, swinging his mask around his finger. Chase took a step back despite already being far away. If that went flying, those plaster horns would do some damage. “And he asked me to do it ‘cause I’m our second best guy.”

“You’re the—?”

“What do you know already, Brodyson?” Tripp continued. “Ever met a magic-wielder?”

“There were a handful in town—”

“Sorcerer, wizard, enchanter, oracle, witch?”

“I...what?” Chase blinked. “I...think they were all sorcerers.”

“How many?”

“Only a handful, about six or seven?”

“For a village of four hundred or so people?” Tripp laughed. “Everyone must’ve been magically impotent.”

“Could you slow down?!” Chase snapped. “I thought you were supposed to teach me about magic, not make fun of me for not knowing anything!”

Tripp paused. Then grinned. “It’s just banter, Brodyson. I didn’t mean offense. But hey, you called me out. Good on you for that. My apologies.” His grin faded. “But I’m not jokin’ about that. There should’ve been at least four times that number of magic-wielders in a town that size. What happened? Were the seekers bein’ lazy for the past few years?”

“...Seekers?” Chase repeated, puzzled.

Tripp looked up at the sky. “Oh, elders. They haven’t been showin’ up at all, have they? If you don’t even know about them—alright, we’ll start from the beginning, then.” He sat down on the ground, folding his legs under him. Slowly, Chase sat down across from him. “You know of the five branches, right? I’m pretty sure everyone in the world’s at least heard their names.”

“Yes,” Chase said, nodding. Wizards, sorcerers, enchanters, oracles, and witches. He mostly heard about them in stories, and was especially fuzzy on the details about those last three.

“A common mistake people make is thinkin’ these are all different things.” Tripp started drawing in the dirt with his finger. “When really, all magic is the same. It’s like a tree—just because each branch might look different, doesn’t mean they don’t all come from the same trunk.” And, in keeping with that metaphor, he drew a rough outline of a tree with five different branches. “All magics can work with each other, and there’s a lot of similarities in between them. For example, do you know the difference between wizardry and sorcery? They’re the two most well-known of the branches.”

“Um...if I’m being honest, I’d always been under the impression that wizardry was more powerful,” Chase said tentatively.

Tripp snorted in disbelief. “Some wizards would like to think that. But no. More varied, yes. But not more powerful. Here, it’ll be easier if I go over them all one by one.” He started to draw symbols by each of the branches, starting with a crude stick figure. “Sorcery is the most common magic besides witchcraft. It crops up in people at random. If you got twenty-five people in a room together, one would probably be a sorcerer, even if they didn’t know it. Its source is inside the person themself. And what it does is manipulate the world. Like...this.”

He pressed a flat hand against the ground next to him. After a moment, the dirt started to move. Then suddenly, pillars of rock shot through the dirt, rising from underneath the surface. Chase gaped as the solid stone started to twist, winding around each other to form a braid of rock. Then Tripp removed his hand, and the rock froze, as if it had never been moving in the first place. For a moment, Chase was stunned, then he managed to ask, “S-so you’re a sorcerer, then?”

“Exactly,” Tripp grinned. “Why d’you look so surprised? You said you knew sorcerers before.”

“Well...yes, but I hadn’t...seen their magic too much,” Chase admitted. He remembered one time when Gwen, the weaver’s daughter, had pulled water out of the well. It just streamed out of the depths and sailed right into her bucket. But occasions like that were few and far between.

“Hmm.” Tripp scrunched his face up, thinking. “Well, besides that. Each branch of magic has its strengths and weaknesses. Sorcery’s strength is that it comes from within. As long as a sorcerer doesn’t drain too much energy, they can use their magic forever. And its weakness is that you need a material to manipulate. Like just now, I reached down and pulled rock up from underground. But there’s a limit to the range where your magic can affect things.”

Chase nodded. “What about wizardry, then?”

Tripp sketched a rough outline of a necklace next to another branch of the tree. “Its strength is its variety. Wizards aren’t limited by what things are present, they can conjure out of thin air. But its weakness is in this: the ‘focus.’” He tapped the necklace drawing. “Unlike sorcery, wizardry doesn’t come from within. Wizards are channelin’ it from outside, from the layer of magic that coats the world. But to do so, they need a specially-made thing called a focus. It’s usually a necklace, ‘cause that’s handy, but it can be any shape, as long as it’s made the right way. These dragon bones, for example. They’d be real good to make focuses with.” He knocked on the nearest bone. “About one in fifty people are able to channel wizardry.”

“And now we reach the end of my knowledge,” Chase mutters. “What’s the next most common?”

Tripp paused. “Enchantment.” The image he drew in the dirt now was a misshapen lump. “Damn. That’s supposed to be a brain.”

“Ah. Right. Because enchantment is the magic of the mind, isn’t it?” Chase recalled, casting his memories back to the stories he’d heard that included enchanters.

“Hmm. Yea.” Tripp pursed his lips. “How do I explain them...Well, strengths. They’re the only magic that can work with your mind. Illusions, talking in your head, things like that. But as for their weaknesses, enchanters can’t change the world for real.”

“Is it true that enchanters can control your actions?” Chase asked. “There’s a story, the Dark Damoen—”

“The crazy old man who made Erinthold worship him as a god? That’s a famous one.” Tripp nodded. “Well, it’s true. Some could change your thoughts and make you do things you wouldn’t. But that takes a lot of power, and besides, most enchanters are decent people, like all the rest of us. It’s just that we remember the bad ones because they shock us. And only about one in a hundred people are enchanters, anyway. Don’t worry about it. There are a few Masked Phantoms who are enchanters.”

Chase nodded slowly. The thought of the old story sent shivers down his back, but he should probably trust the magic-wielder. He clearly knew more “What about...the oracles?”

Tripp drew a symbol of an eye in the dirt. “Those are the rarest one. You only get an oracle one in a thousand, if you’re lucky, and they’re not usually that powerful. You’ve probably heard that they issue prophecies of what’s to come, or that they might even be able to manipulate time itself. Well that’s all bullshit.”

“Wh—” Chase was so surprised at the frankness that he choked on his own gasp. After a few moments of coughing, he continued in a hoarse voice. “What do you mean?”

“Oracles can’t manipulate time, that’s the most insane rumor goin’ round about magic there ever was,” Tripp stated. “They get visions of what’s most likely to happen. It’s not for sure, and really, most oracles are wrong. But huge strength there, knowing the most likely future. And it comes with a big weakness. A couple, actually. One, they have to speak their visions out loud while it’s happenin’. It’s a magic...what’s the word?” He snapped his fingers for a bit. “Compulsion. That’s it. They’re literally forced to do it, can’t stop that. And two, the visions are all they can do. They have no other magic. And because of that, some say that oracles are cursed, not gifted.”

Chase thought about that. If he had the choice, would he take knowing the future for being forced to share it? Maybe. Maybe if he knew what could happen next, he could stop terrible things. Like...his heart panged, and he shied away from the thought. No, that didn’t sound too bad. People would also know what the future held, what of it? He’d take that risk.

“And the last magic,” Tripp said, snapping Chase out of his thoughts. “Witchcraft. It’s actually the most common.”

“Really?” Chase said doubtfully.

“I bet you’re goin’ by the stories, where witches are old people that stay in shacks and give out potions,” Tripp said, drawing a bottle next to the final branch. “But really, the magic of witchcraft isn’t in people, like all the others. It’s in the land. It’s part of the world’s magic. Plants with strange properties, the parts of magical animals...these can be mixed together to create amazing effects. And anyone could learn how to do it. In fact, most of us here have.”

Chase suddenly remembered earlier, how Nemet had put away some of the medicines during their meeting. It was because he didn’t know much about magic...“Wait, you mean anyone could make potions? Become a witch?”

“Well, not anyone,” Tripp muttered. “If you have magic of your own, you can’t learn witchcraft. The knowledge just slips away, and if we try anyway, nothing works, even if it should. You can’t use more than one magic. It’d be like tryin’ to hold onto every single branch of a tree.”

“If the tree was small, though?” Chase joked.

“It’s not. The magic tree is big, and the branches are the type where you need to hold on with both hands,” Tripp said firmly.

“Oh. I...see.” Chase cleared his throat. Clearly, using more than one magic wasn’t something to make light of. It was too impossible. “And...what about those seekers you mentioned earlier?”

Tripp was eager to move on. “Seekers are wizards that can sense the presence of magic. What’s supposed to happen is that these seekers are supposed to stop by every town twice every year. In practice, that’s faded away. Most towns only see them once a year, and the farther away you get from Suilthair, the less often you’ll see them. My town where I grew up, they came by every three years. But if you don’t know what they are, then...have you ever seen them?”

At that, Chase had a vague memory of a group of strangers visiting Hilltown when he was a child. They were dressed finely, and the image of an elaborate brooch one of them was wearing flashed in his mind. The next day, Hanson, an old friend of his, announced to all the kids that he was going away for ‘special school.’ “Not in years. Long enough for me to forget what they are.”

Tripp huffed. “I bet it’s not worth the effort to come all the way up here. Bunch of nambies.” He rolled his eyes. “Seekers are employed by the royal family. They find young magic-wielders and offer to give them schoolin’, to learn how to use their magic. Schoolin’ that’s funded by the crowns. It’s not required—I never went—but it’s encouraged. Otherwise you might end up having magic shootin’ out of your—”

“Is that why most wizards side with the King?” Chase asked, remembering what Henrik said about the source of the village fire.

“Part of it. But wizards especially have a reason to keep on the King’s good side.” Tripp paused. “Those focuses I told you ‘bout, that wizards need to use their magic? The crowns fund the makin’ of those, too. And the sellin’. And everything about them.”

“Oh.” Chase’s eyes widened with realization. “So...if a wizard decided to oppose the King, then there’s a chance that...they wouldn’t have access to a focus anymore? And...their magic?”

Tripp nodded. “That’s why most of us magic-wielders in the Phantoms are sorcerers and a few enchanters.”

“No oracles?”

“Oh, elders, no. You heard how hard they are to find. Wish we had some, though. That’d be helpful.” Tripp stretched his arms, then stood up. “Anyway, that’s all I have to say. You got it all?”

“I think so, yes,” Chase said slowly. He looked up to the sky, mentally reviewing everything he’d heard. Sorcery, wizardry, enchantment, oraclulary, and witchcraft. All very different, all with things they could do and limitations that slowed them down. That made sense. He nodded to himself...and then noticed the position of the sun. “Shit!” Chase shot to his feet. “It’s noon! I have—after lunch, I—”

“More meetings, huh?” Tripp raised an eyebrow, then pulled his ram mask back on. “Let me guess...Lukas and Holly? Better hurry, Brodyson. Not good to be late for those two.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chase swung by the cooking fires to grab some food, then hurried over to the combat fields, along the dragon’s wings. Originally, he wondered if the wing bones would get it the way, but apparently the dragon had died with its wings spread out as far as they could be, leaving ample room in between the bones. The packed dirt was lined with targets, crude dummies made of sacks of hay tied to sticks, and racks of wooden training weapons. Occasionally there were random chests or tents set up to create obstacles to fight around. As he ran out onto the fields, he passed many people, some sparring in groups, others practicing on their own. None of them paid him any mind.

Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure where to go. The fields took up all of the space cleared by the wings, which was, as it turned out, quite a lot. Maybe he should have asked Henrik for descriptions of the people he’d be meeting with. Feeling his nerves eating away at his stomach, he turned to the nearest person, and asked, quietly, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Lukas and Holly?”

The person turned around, looked down at him, and smiled. “Oh, it’s you! You’re the new one!”

“Um...yes,” Chase said slowly. It was just now occurring to him how...big this person was—this woman was, actually, judging by her voice. She towered over him, and her sleeveless tunic showed off the muscles of her tattooed arms. Strange to be wearing no sleeves in the chill mountain air, but she probably wasn’t bothered.

“I’m Holly.” Her smile widened. “Daughter of Rose.”

“Oh!” Chase blinked. That name didn’t fit her at all. But alright, he wasn’t one to say anything. “Chase, son of Brody.”

“Lovely to meet you.” Holly grabbed his hand and vigorously shook it. She wasn’t wearing her mask, but it hung around her neck. A bear. And the symbol on its forehead was the same as the one on Jackie’s wolf mask: a circle with two dots inside. “Me and Lukas, we’re in charge of combat up in Wyvernlair. Speaking of which...” She turned around. “Luke! He’s here!”

Chase leaned around Holly to look at who she was addressing...and suddenly felt cold, despite his jacket. Now he remembered where he heard that name before. While he’d been sick with the shivering in the infirmary, he’d overheard a conversation between Jackie and a man in a fox mask. That man had wanted to throw him out of camp, but Jackie had refused...and now, Chase was staring at that very same man.

“I can see that,” Lukas said shortly. He was facing a series of targets, and didn’t turn to look at Holly and Chase. Instead he merely took another arrow from a quiver on his back, nocked it on his bow, and shot. The arrow flew straight into the center of the farthest target, which was barely the size of a hand spread wide.

“No you can’t, you didn’t even look!” Holly scowled, and turned back around. “Sorry about him, Chase. He’s been snippy.”

“Well I wouldn’t be snippy if I hadn’t been standing out here for an hour, waiting for someone who didn’t bother to show up on time,” Lukas snapped.

“I’m not an hour late,” Chase protested weakly. Even behind the fox mask, Lukas’s expression was twisted with frustration and annoyance.

“It’s a matter of principle,” Lukas said, finally turning to face Chase. When he did, Chase noticed the symbol on his mask for the first time: an X, with a dot to either side.

“Let’s just get into it,” Holly said, folding her arms. “Now, Chase. You’re a hunter, yes? So you have some experience with shortbows.”

“I can shoot, yes,” Chase agreed. “But I’ve never heard the term ‘shortbow’ before.” Lukas rolled his eyes, a motion that was partially hidden by the mask but still visible enough for Chase to catch.

“It means a smaller bow, in comparison to Lukas’s massive beast of a longbow over there.” Holly gestured towards Lukas’s bow; it was almost as tall as him. “Shortbows are better for mobility and closer range, while longbows are more suited for staying stationary and shooting long distances.”

“Ah.” Chase nodded. That made sense; bigger bows were more powerful, but also harder to draw back and move around. Amabel once tried to shoot Chase’s own bow when she was seven, and couldn’t pull the string even a little.

“I’m assuming you’re a fairly good shot,” Holly said, rubbing her chin. “So you’ll probably need to work with me more. I’m in charge of close-range combat, while Lukas handles the long range, with bows. So if we’re to—”

“Hold on a moment, Holly,” Lukas interrupted. “I want to see what he can do.”

Holly shot Lukas a dirty look. “There’s no need—”

“Of course there is. We should know what our starting point is.” Lukas turned and walked towards a nearby weapons rack, picking out a smaller shortbow and a quiver of matching arrows. He headed back to the others and thrust the tools at Chase. “Show me how well you hunt.”

“...alright. I will.” Chase took the bow and quiver slowly. He didn’t like being tested, especially not when the test was proposed by a man who clearly thought he was some sort of spy for the King and might be looking for an excuse to kick him out. Should he pretend to be worse than he actually was? No, that would just be complicated. He’d shoot normally.

He stepped up to the place Lukas had been standing, facing the targets, and strapped the quiver onto his back. For a moment, he examined the bow. Solidly built. Looked newer than the one he used back home. And had these odd curves...was this a recurve model? He’d heard of them, but never used one before.

“Soon, please!” Lukas called.

Holly promptly hit him on the back of the head. “Take your time, Chase! Don’t worry!”

Chase nodded. His mouth was suddenly very dry. But he swallowed his nerves, adjusted his stance, and nocked an arrow. He hit it against the back of his head in the process of taking it out of the quiver—not being used to wearing it on his back—and glanced back at the two watching to gauge their reactions. Holly looked supportive, but Lukas was unreadable. He looked away again.

There were ten arrows in the quiver and ten targets set up in front of him. He must need to hit all of them. So he drew back, aimed, and let loose the arrow.

Ten arrows.

Five of them hit the closest targets. Two of those hit their target’s center.

One hit the edge of one of the farther targets.

The remaining four missed.

Feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach, he turned back to Holly and Lukas.

“Wow. That was the most utterly average thing I’ve ever seen,” Lukas said bluntly.

“You hit more than I can!” Holly said positively, giving him a short round of applause. “That’s great!”

Chase nodded silently. “I...I’m not used to this bow.”

Lukas hummed. He went to collect the arrows, giving Chase a side-eyed look as he walked past. It seemed as though his suspicions hadn’t been assuaged. If anything, he looked even more wary.

Holly walked up to Chase and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Chase promptly lost his balance from the force of the contact, and Holly helped him right himself. “Sorry about that,” she said. “And sorry about Lukas. He’s just...he has a hard time trusting people. I’m sure you’ll win him over.”

“It’s fine,” Chase said distantly. “I mean, not everyone’s going to immediately welcome someone new into a group like this. You need to keep secret. There are risks.” Still, Lukas’s distrust, combined with his mediocre shooting skills, left him feeling a bit down. Like a cloud passing over the sun, everything just seemed...disappointing.

Lukas returned, arrows in hand. “Do it again,” he said.

“Elders and Sisters, Luke, we don’t have all day,” Holly protested.

“He needs to practice,” Lukas said, stone-faced.

“He needs to start with me! You can’t handle all your problems from a distance, especially in our situation. What’s he to do if a King’s man jumps him from behind and all he has are arrows?”

“It’s fine,” Chase repeated. He rubbed his arm; they hadn’t given him an arm guard, and despite the jacket fabric, his skin still stung from the bow string. “We have until dinner.”

Holly gave him a look, but sighed and stepped back. “One hour of shooting, then it’s my turn.”

Lukas nodded. “Deal.”

Chase sighed a bit, and took the arrows from Lukas. It was turning out to be a long day.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos #septic egos au #chase brody #dr schneeplestein #jackieboy man #brigid writes fanfiction #fantasymasksau

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dindooku · 4 years

Text

after a mission goes wrong, you find yourself somewhere you could never imagine.

how will you cope with your new situation?

how do you know who you can trust?

word count: 4,614

rating: E (swearing)

This was no routine operation.

You’d trained for stressful situations like this for the last ten years, enduring more pain, sacrifice and penance then the human body is able to cope with.

But you’re no normal human; you’re a soldier. You’re the Officer Commander of the 118th SAS Special Operations unit, which for this mission was specifically tasked to investigate and neutralise an unidentified object which had landed in enemy territory.

The mission debrief had been one you’d never forget. You were given very little intel, purposefully. Being it was an unidentified object meant utmost secrecy, despite you being the OC who would be leading the mission to retrieve it. You knew better than to ask questions, and you could only place your full trust in your superiors. So, you were given the only information you needed to know:

* Co-ordinates

* Enemy confines

* General landscape

This was usual information, nothing you’d not seen before. The debrief was tense, to say the least, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle or hadn’t done before. You were surrounded by a circle of officials, some you recognised, some you didn’t. Your orders were clear.

“You will leave the base at 18:00 hours to arrive with the 118th at enemy coordinates at approx 04:00 hours. Ensure no civvy is within the target range and that your officers supply daypacks and equipment for Recce. Your mission is to infiltrate enemy confines, secure the UO and then hold guard until we can get a securing unit in.”

You had looked at your commanding officer with determination. This was an odd mission, yes, but that didn’t mean you were scared. If anything, the abnormality of an unidentified object being the objective of this mission was intriguing, and you were excited to do a recon mission which didn’t involve the usual sieges of palaces or governments with your soldiers, your brothers.

When you’d first joined the army you always thought that you’d never be excited or ever looking forward to pain or bloodshed. You joined seeking help and routine, just to be anywhere from home. But after spending 10 gruelling years facing oppressors and sick, twisted maniacs with too much power for their own good, you now lapped at the opportunity to right their wrongs and help those caught in the crossfire. Sure, you’d done terrible, terrible things and witnessed tragedies that the human mind couldn’t even begin to fathom if it wanted to, but knowing that you were doing something to help, whether it be violent or not, was what drove you to keep going.

It was already 16:00 and the sun was begging to set, leaving only 2 hours to prep your boys before heading out on your mission. You’d received the intel and thanked your commanding officer in haste, wanting to let your brothers in on the exciting new challenge that waited ahead. But, before you could leave, you were called back to attention.

“Commander, one more piece of intel. This is most important, and we cannot emphasise this enough.”

This piqued your interest, so you stood back to attention and nodded for them to continue.

“The UO must not be disturbed. As you’ve seen from the Holo-Map, the data projections have shown incredible readings of energy. It’s not come back as radioactive, or anything on the electromagnetic spectrum either which could, or could not be harmful’—” the commanding officer emphasised those last words, as if he’s implying a hidden meaning, or hiding something that they don’t want you to know, “—therefore you’re under strict orders not to touch the UO. You must hold off and contain the drop zone until we can get the specialists from MI5 in. Under no circumstances does anyone touch the UO without specific authorisation. Do I make myself clear?” They finished with stern words, their gaze burning into you. All soldiers were used to strict commanders and the generic intimidating gaze of superior officers, but as a woman in the SAS field, you’ve built-up an indestructible backbone to threatening power plays. You had to, it was one of the first, and one of the hardest lessons in your training. You’re surrounded by men who thought that because of their physical strength this gave them an advantage, but you soon proved yourself over them with your quick thinking and relentlessness. You were brutal, but that's what was required to be successful in such environments. You seemed to have done something right because now you’re the Commanding Officer of the 118th, leading a 6 man battalion, all of which looked to you for orders.

You nodded again, but you maintained the intense eye contact, not even breaking a sweat. “Yes, Sir. If that is all, I will debrief the men now and we will prepare to leave for 18:00, Sir.”

The commanding officer nodded a dismissal before turning round to discuss further intel with the other officials in the room; so you took your leave at their dismissal.

__________

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

This was no routine operation.

Things were quiet, eerily quiet…too quiet.

You’d made good time with the boys, with only a slight hiccup at point break with 2 guards, but 9’s and Sleeves (your two knife specialists) took care of them with ease. What wasn’t right however was how easy it was to infiltrate. You’d had practically no resistance, and while normal people would celebrate this, you knew better. Something just wasn’t quite right.

You made the break at 04:00 under the blanket of night. The base was small, only consisting of a few small rooms in a single building. The terrain was a thick jungle, and the humidity was stifling, but you had done enough training and excursions to be practically immune to the heat. The target was set in a clearing of the forest, completely remote and isolated from outside interference. This could’ve explained the limited armourment, but also made you question why an odd-looking temple of sorts was sat smack dead in the middle of the Amazon rainforest. It was obvious under first impressions that the building was ancient, and resembled similarities to the Mayans and Egyptians architecture, but something about the carvings and inscriptions along the walls just wasn’t anything you could recognise. Not that you could read Mayan or Egyptian, but the symbols were unique and seemed extra-terrestrial…odd.

But now wasn’t the time to play Indiana Jones, you had a mission to do. So, you ordered your men behind you and you breached the compound.

As soon as you entered the odd-looking temple, the energy around you shifted instantly. It wasn’t just humid with rain anymore, this was a different humid. It was suffocating but not in the physical sense, instead, it was more like a static that clouded your mind and slowed your processing. You glanced back at your soldiers, “Did you feel that?” You said, hushing a whisper into the mic of your helmet.

“Feel what, Sir?” Screw asked back, the reply static with interference in your earpiece. You tapped the earpiece at the side of your helmet in an effort to fix the static, but it did no good. Still moving forward, you replied.

“The energy, it feels different in here, don’t you think?”

“Don’t start with your hocus focus shit.” Sleeves retorted.

“Yeah, boss now isn’t the time for your ghost stories,” 9s chimed in.

“Aight, I get it, but it just feels odd… I don’t like it, stay tight,” you commanded, bringing your M14EBR to your shoulder. You really didn’t like the feeling in here, not one bit.

You all advanced through the temple, making quick work to check and secure each room and corridor before you found yourself in the centre. The static from before was now overbearing, but you kept to yourself, not wanting to give the boys any chance for further teasing. You wouldn’t mind normally, but this place was really giving you bad vibes.

As you all entered the centre room, the atmosphere changed again. This time is was cold, icy. The sudden chill brought you out in goosebumps, and a harsh shiver raced through your body, but you made effort to maintain your focus and continue with the mission at hand.

The overbearing static acted almost like a guide, playing hot or cold with every step you took. And with every step towards the centre of the room, it got louder and louder. You peered round to look at your team, only to see them looking back at you, confused at your sudden tensity. Were they not feeling this presence, this energy? How couldn’t they? There’s clearly something going on…

“Boss… Don’t. Move.” Frankie said sternly.

You froze. Slowly peering back round to him you looked at the others, who were all still stood at arms at the back of the room where the corridor joined. You were tense beyond belief now, and you hadn’t noticed how fast your heart was beating, the sound of your blood was now deafening as it coursed through your ears and around your body. It was as if your senses were magnified, everything felt overwhelming and suffocating; the feeling of your gloves on your skin, the sound of dust particles drifting through the air, the smell of dirt that hadn’t been disturbed for hundreds of years. You were sweating profusely now, but you still felt ice cold.

Turning your head slowly, you faced Frankie. “What. Frankie?” Your voice trembled a little under the whisper, but you held yourself together for the moment.

“Right in front of you, the…the reflection, it’s like a hazy mirror, can’t you see it?” He replied, his confusion twisting his face. He was looking at you like you’re crazy, in fact, they all were.

“What reflection—” You hissed back, turning back around to be greeted with nothing. And they told you to cut the hocus pocus? You scanned the area in front of you. There was absolutely nothing, just the rest of the empty room. So, you took another cautious step. Everyone took in a breath at the same time, holding it in. You tensed, waiting for something to happen. But nothing happened. Right, this was all over nothing.

You turned, relaxing your shoulders, facing the boys.

“See, nothing to worry abo—” You were cut off by the anxious shouts of your soldiers, who now had their guns pointed at you. “HEY! Hey, put the guns down, what the fuck are you doing?!” You shouted back, but they didn’t respond. You went to take a step back towards them but were blocked by some sort of force, like a wall…but there was no wall. You put your gun out to test the space in front of you but were met with a solid object. But you couldn’t see it…

“What in the fu—” you muttered, completely at a loss for what was transpiring in front of your eyes. The boys started moving forwards, their shouts were now muffled. odd, it sounded like you were underwater, barely able to make out what they were saying. You wanted to reach out, to touch the odd, static wall in your way. Your curiosity got the better of you, and before you knew what you were doing you were taking off the glove on your right hand and slowly reaching out to the void ahead of you.

“DON’T! DON’T TOUCH IT, HEY!—”

“BOSS!—”

“What the FUCK IS—”

You couldn’t hear the shouting. You didn’t see your soldiers running towards you. All you saw was your own reflection staring back at you as you raised your hand to reach out, to touch whatever it was before you.

Your index finger poked the wall, and you instantly recoiled, the icy lightning coursed through your body, igniting your nerves and singeing your blood. You dropped limply to the floor, and like that, you were out like a light.

______

Your eyes dart open.

You’re gasping for air, choking on it as it soared into your lungs like you’d just been pulled from water.

You quickly take in your surroundings. You’re on the floor. It’s light out. You’re sweating, it’s hot. It smells almost… smoggy? Wait, this isn’t the temple, it was dark, we were inside… why is there a hand on my back?!

You shoot up, twisting and grabbing the hand that had rested on your back. You’re still heaving for air. You stare at the human with wild eyes, completely frantic with confusion. This was not where you were last.

“Hey! Ow! I’m just tryina’ help! What in the…” They trail off as they reach for your handgun, but before they can grab it you shoot up and launch yourself forwards, turning on your toes and pulling the handgun out of the holster to aim it at the perp.

“Who are you and where am I!” You demand, your voice shaky and raspy, but the tonality is not mistaken - you’re fierce with your formalities. You don’t like getting fucked about.

“Woah, ok, calm—” they raise their hands, crouching slightly to act as if they’re of no harm.

“Don’t tell me to be calm. Where. Am. I” you demand, taking a step closer, still aiming the gun between their eyes, finger dancing on the trigger.

“Hey, ok, you’re on Coruscant. Look around ya, it's ok, no one’s gonna hurt ya, you’re on the upper levels—” they took a step back, gesturing with their arms to the now growing crowd of civilians watching the scene unfolding in front of them. You take a second to peer around you, taking in the environment.

It was bright, busy and loud, very loud. It looked almost like a local market place, but huge. The street ahead of you was never-ending, bustling with home stalls and shops - neon lights littering the area with sales of all sorts and goods you don’t recognise. Then you see the language, the same symbols and inscriptions as those on the side of the temple. You’re freaking out a bit now. Yeah, you’d done intense training and seen too much shit to care about regularities but this was a whole other level of bat shit crazy. Peering up, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Vehicles of all shapes and sizes where whizzing just above your head, going in all sorts of directions at great speed. They looked nothing like anything you’d seen before, not jets or planes or anything. Something was seriously wrong here, you’re not anywhere you’ve been before.

You shoot your gaze back down to the crowd around you. There were beings of all shapes and sizes. Some you instantly recognised as human, but others were deformed or misshapen, odd-looking. Upon closer inspection, some had multiple limbs, green, blue, purple skin, 6 eyes. Ok, have I been drugged? You wonder as your jaw drops open with shock. This was stuff you couldn’t even imagine.

Sensing the attention growing on you by the second, you leap into action. Peering around you take in the buildings surrounding you, and just in the distance, a tall, church-like building stands tall. Right, refuge. Safe-House possibly? You jerk back towards the human who woke you up, giving a quick nod before you dart off towards your new objective.

Luckily you still have everything with you, your backpack, watch, guns and spare ammo if needed. You didn’t have ID but if you could find some sort of police station you’d be able to hack and search the database to call upon your credentials and send an SOS for recovery. With this in mind, you ran through the streets of ‘Coruscant’ towards to towering cathedral.

___

You don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life. Not when you were ambushed by terrorists, not when you’d been kidnapped and you broke free from the encampment, and not even when you’d been woken in your sleep by a pack of wolves on a Russian Intel OP in the middle of Siberia. Your hallucinations hadn’t stopped, and with every turn new, crazy creatures stared at your frantic attempt to find some sort of normality.

You finally made it to the Cathedral, but you weren’t quite prepared for how grandly spacious and lavish it was; it must’ve been a good kilometre or two wide, and roughly the same in height too. You’d never seen such a large, simple yet intimidating building. Eyeing the courtyard, hundreds of white armoured beings paroled and strode in groups, but not in assembly, casually. They looked like troops, and your suspicions were confirmed by the metal looking guns attached to their hips or swung round their backs. Some had their helmets off, others didn’t, and they seemed to be colour coded. But now wasn’t the time for exploring, you had to find a safe house and make contact with Base. Picking up the pace from where you’d stopped, you run into the Cathedral, taking two steps at a time. What stood before you was nothing you could have ever predicted, or even prepared for.

Underneath your feet lay long, smooth slabs of a marble-like substance. The area opened up into a great hall of sorts, with pillars of stone arranged in an open rectangle, supporting the towering ceiling above you. The pillars were simplistic but still had the odd inscriptions plastered up and along with each one. The walls were of minimal design too - no grandiose trinkets or monarchs, no real display of wealth or power - it was unlike any church, cathedral or anything you’d ever seen. Crowding the courtyard in the centre were smaller beings, that looked to be children, all either playing or running around, reading or training - grappling with one another, but happily. What you did notice however was that they were all wearing the same similar robes, some different colours to others but the design the same. Was this some sort of School?

After taking a second to absorb your surroundings, you scrub your palms over your eyes as if to test whether this was all real of not. Undoing the chinstrap and removing your helmet, you slip one strap off your army pack and attach the helmet onto the back. You don’t feel threatened here, and despite not being ordered to remove it, you have the sneaking suspicion that following orders doesn’t really matter right now.

Then your attention is drawn to the far corner, where a young man dressed in black robes is walking, quite quickly towards you. You look briefly to his right to see another man, dressed in brown and cream robes just behind him, striding just as quickly as if trying to catch up. You go to take a step but you stop yourself to watch what unfolds in front of you.

“Anakin, for the love of the God’s will you stop and talk to me!” The older man shouts, clearly exasperated with the younger man before him.

“Look, Master, I felt a disturbance and I must investigate it, it could be dangerous!” The young man retorts, turning to face the older man and waving his arms in the air. They’re both clearly agitated and something is seriously bothering them.

“I understand that Anakin, I do, I felt it too. But we can’t just go running off in the middle of Council meetings! You know better than this,—” the older man exclaims, running a hand down his face and resting on his beard, slowly stroking it as if in deep contemplation.

“Master, you must learn to trust me, either way - we must investigate this disturbance and find the source before it’s too late. You know this,” the younger counters, shaking his arms as if to show how irritated he is about having to wait.

“Do not test my patience, Anakin. I—I do trust you Anakin, just please take a second to centre yourself before you go running into the street of—” And before he can finish his sentence the older man's gaze lands on you.

You lock eyes. You feel an odd pick of electricity as his sapphire blues burn into your eyes, freezing you both in place, forcing your sharp intake of breath to hold painfully in your lungs. His light golden hair is tidily swept to the right, parting on the far left of his temple. It's not short hair, but it’s not long either. It sits in comfortable waves, soothing and sophisticated. His eyebrows match the colour of his hair, perfectly framing the piercing blue eyes that are boring into you. His jaw is framed in a thick but trimmed beard, accentuating his jawline, giving a heavy aura of wisdom to his frame. He’s gorgeous. Sure, you’ve had the hots for guys before and you’ve had your fair share of flings and relationships, but they were nothing substantial or of purpose, they were just tiebreakers that allowed you to fill your time and release hormones; no one had ever really caught your eye and made you double-take - you always thought you never had the capacity to love because of your profession… but there’s always a first for everything. But now really wasn’t the time for admiring men, because you soon realised that said man was now making a beeline towards you at an alarming pace.

You jolt, realising now is the time to run. Without thinking you run back out into the courtyard. You make quick sense of the stairs, striding three at a time, taking extra care not to trip of fall. Now was not the time for mistakes. Once you reach the bottom you chance a glance back, only to instantly regret your decision as the distance between you and the two mystery men was quickly diminishing. You turn back around and reach for both your pistols this time, one on each thigh. You pull them up and aim as you stop and turn quickly, bracing yourself in a strong side stance, enabling you to bolt again if needed. Just as you pull up to aim at both men, they stop, side by side. You’re frantically breathing now, body tense. Every muscle is coiled and ready to pounce at the drop of a hat, and you will not hesitate to protect yourself.

Just as you think you have things under control, the two mystery beings reach into their robes and pull a metal cylinder into their hands. What in the name of all that's holy are they going to do with a piece of pipe?! You chuckle to yourself - you couldn’t lie, you’d seen weirder weapons.

“Where the fuck am I and why are you chasing me,” you hiss. You’ve just about had it with the weird alien shit and you’re not about to be played around. You want straight answers.

The older man calmly replies, “Language. You’re on coruscant, we could ask the same abo—”

“Did you just tell me to watch my fucking language?! How about you tell me where the fuck I am before I shoot the brains out of that pretty little mouth of yours?” you grill. How dare he tell you to watch your mouth when you’ve woken up in this weird-ass city filled with aliens and flying space cars.

“And you tell me I have a bad mouth master—” the younger man cuts, a slight smirk lining his lips.

“Anakin—,” the older man scolds, obviously not finding the humour in Anakin's reply. He turns his attention back to you, “Look, why don’t we just lower out weapons and—” He goes to take a step towards you but you fire a warning shot to the ground just right of the older man. He instantly stops, and both men glare back at you. This catches the attention of the soldiers in the courtyard, who are now beginning to surround the three of you.

“Don’t fuck with me,” you hiss back, fingers flexing slightly on the triggers of each gun.

“Master, why was there no blaster bolt?” Anakin asks, turning his head a fraction towards the older man.

“I don’t know Anakin but now isn’t the time,—” he replies before both return their full attention back to you. You slowly start to take a step back. You need to get out of here now. “I wouldn’t bother trying to run my Dear, you won’t get far,” the older man advises.

Oh, I can’t believe this.

“You,—” you shake your left pistol towards the older man in a way to gather his attention, “What’s your name?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi”

“Well, Obi-Wan Kenobi, one — I am not, Dear — I am a Commanding Officer of the 118th SAS, and two — for your best own interest you will let me walk away so I can find some way back to where I need to be, comprende?” You barter.

“Master I—,” Anakin is again cut off by Obi-Wan.

“I’m sorry but I cannot let you do that.”

“What makes you think you can stop me?” You’re clearly angry now. The absolute cheek of this man, this imbecile in some sort of funky monk clothing telling you not to run. Is he seeing what you’re seeing, can they see the mad aliens and weird flying vehicles just above you?

“Oh Darling, don’t test my patience” he retorts, adding a hint of sarcasm to his words. You genuinely can’t believe it. A slight chuckle escapes your lips. You’re going mad, this is it. The years of battle and trauma have finally caught up to you and now you’re seeing space monks, great. Your laughter grows louder and the other two men nervously join in, obviously confused about your reaction. You shrug your shoulders, waving your hands in the air in an exasperated manner. The other two men carry on laughing but chance a nervous glare between them in silent communication. You rub your forehead with the back of one of your hands, the cold metal of your pistol soothing your sweat-laden forehead. Your laugh drops and you fire another warning shot from the other hand, deadening your stare back at Obi-Wan. They freeze.

“I’ve killed more for less. Let me go and I won’t add you to the list,”

“Master, I’ve had enough of this—,” Anakin huffs, and with a flick of his wrist, you’re now suddenly disarmed. What. The. Fuck.

“Language. Please, just put your hands out and—” did he just tell me to watch my language? I didn’t say anything, is he reading my mind? “you could say I am, yes, now please just calm down—”

What the FUCK is going on right now?! “Calm down? Calm DOWN?! What sort of space wizard BULLSHIT is going on right now, how did you do that? How did you throw my guns? Where am I, who are you? What is going on?” You’re starting to panic now, you can feel the bile rising up from your stomach. This is all way too much for you to process. Either you’ve been knocked out cold and have an incredible concussion or you’ve drunk some really funky tea, either way — this can’t be real.

“Anakin, I think we need to use a trance, can you—,” Obi-Wan mutters to Anakin, holstering the weird metal cylinder tube from before. Anakin does the same and goes to wave a hand but you cut him off.

“Trance? What do you mean by trance? No, no way, you are not using some weird wizard shit on me, I’m leaving.” You haven’t got time for this. You’ve got a mission to finish, and you need to find a way back to base. Focus on your priorities. You turn to walk away, about to make haste but before you can take a step, everything goes black.

#obi wan x reader #obi wan needs a hug #obiwan kenobi #obiwan fanfic #obi wan x oc #obiwan #obi wan fic #star wars #star wars fanfiction #ewanfuckinmcgregor #ewanmcgregor #ewan mcgregor

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a-ghostlight-for-roman · 4 years

Text

how to never stop being sad

Summary: Following his brother's acceptance, Roman's life felt like it was falling apart. His family was turning against him, that awful snake was being allowed in their home, and worst of all, he still couldn't seem to do anything right, no matter how hard he tried.

How does he choose to deal with it?

Not in a good way, that's for sure.

Warnings: Gore/Death/Violence (none actually occur but it is described), food mention, cursing

AO3 link

Chapter 1

Repeat to yourself that they’re not really gone

Time has proven

That fooling yourself into believing a lie

Is the most effective way

To deal with things you have no control over

Roman was fine. Completely 100% percent, absolutely fine, and he would tolerate no thinking to the contrary. Things were abnormal, sure, but he was coping. Maybe he felt a bit (a lot) guilty for letting things in the Mindscape get so bad, but it’s okay! He’s managing! Maybe he’s surrounded by people that barely tolerate him now, but he’ll fix it!

...eventually.

Right now, though, he’s in his room. Alone, as is usual these days. Usually, he’d ask Patton or Virgil to hang out with him, but after the last video, things were… Tense, to say the least.

Patton wasn’t mad at him, of course; he wasn’t ever truly mad at any of them. However, Roman would have to be stupid not to notice the disappointed looks Patton gave him when he thought he wasn’t looking or the way that after Roman left the room, he always made a point to talk to Janus afterwards, as if he needed special attention just for enduring Roman’s presence.

Things were a little better with Virgil, but he was frustrated with Roman for tolerating Janus’ presence at all. Despite his obvious vitriol towards him, he still outright refused to talk about what exactly Janus had ever done to him. So Roman was forced to choose between Patton, his father figure who’d never meant to do him wrong (who had acted like Roman was unreasonable for sticking to the very moral rule set that Patton had imposed on him since they were children), or Virgil, who Roman had been wrong in not listening to before, & who was obviously extremely hurt and betrayed by both Janus, and now his own family.

He still hadn’t quite been able to choose, straddling the line between adhering to Patton’s kindness policy towards Janus and respecting Virgil’s feelings. It didn’t really work-- rather, it just seemed to leave them both dissatisfied. Roman could hardly stand it.

...but it’s fine. Really. It’ll blow over eventually. He isn’t quite sure how, exactly, but things always turn out alright in the end, right? There’s always a happy ending.

Except when there isn’t, but… bad endings only happen in Remus’ stories, & he doesn’t have power here in the Mindscape.

...except he sorta does, now. After his video, he’d (albeit reluctantly) been accepted. His ideas were considered, even valued, now. Sometimes, he was even chosen over Roman. Not only by Thomas, but also by the other sides, at times; Logan may think he’s slick, but Roman’s seen him specifically request his brother’s assistance in the Imagination, in the living room, in the archives, in his room- It made Roman sick to think about, and whenever he walked through the house, he could see evidence of his brother’s influence littered throughout. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand the appeal. When had society fallen so far as to value a duke more than a prince?

---

Roman hadn’t thought he’d been in his room for long; he’d only meant to duck in to get a breather after having to endure Remus’ maniacal ramblings for nearly half an hour, but it seemed he’d been brooding long enough to attract Logan’s concern. He heard a knock at his door and broke out of his haze, looking towards it.

“I apologize for bothering you Roman, but I was wanting to inquire whether you were alright. It’s been an hour,” Logan said. Had Roman really been away for that long? No wonder Logan was checking on him.

“Yeah, Specs- Sorry. I’ll be out in a minute, just finishing a project,” he lied. Logan was so cold, calm, rational- Surely he would look down on Roman’s groveling simply because he couldn't deal with his brother for more than a few minutes. As much as Roman was full of himself and proud of his work, he thought if Logan talked down to him, he’d break down and cry.

“We’re currently 'hanging out' in the common room. You’re welcome to join whenever you finish. I look forward to hearing about what you’ve been working on.” Roman could hear his footsteps slowly grow farther from the door.

Shit. Now Logan thought he’d been working on something, so now he had to do something-- he couldn't just show up empty-handed. They’d see through his lies in an instant. He’d be just as bad as Janus, imagine what Virgil would think--

He took a steadying breath. Okay, yeah, he’d lied, but that wasn’t so awful, he just had to make it right. He just had to make something, and that shouldn’t be so hard, right? That’s his job! He’ll just think of something real quick, and it’ll be done in a jiffy, and then it won’t be a lie anymore, and on top of that, he’ll have something to talk about! Talking parts were hard to come by sometimes when you had to find something that would include the two people you hate most, your former-enemy-turned-best-friend, your dad and your colleague (as he insisted to be called), but everyone was always eager to hear his new ideas, so this would be perfect.

---

It was nothing special, but it would do. He hadn’t had the time or energy to think of a concept for a whole scripted video, so instead, he’d written the next Shoutout Sunday. Simple, but it had to be done, and it was already Friday, anyways. He closed his notebook, and stood up, keeping it under his arm. He never knew when inspiration would strike, so he tried to carry it with him whenever possible. He opened his door and stepped out from his room, making his way down the hallway past the multicolored doors of the other sides, pointedly avoiding looking at Janus’ signature black and yellow-colored door. Out of sight, out of mind.

As he walked into the commons, the conversations faltered for a moment, but everyone quickly returned to what they were doing. Remus was noticeably absent; Patton and Virgil were curled up on the couch, sharing a blanket between them and speaking in excited whispers; and Logan and Janus were speaking across the counter separating the living room and the kitchen while Logan made dinner on the stove and Janus leaned with his hands crossed under his chin.

Roman lingered by the stairs for a moment, caught off guard by the lack of greeting, but continued to the side of the couch not occupied by Patton and Virgil. He’d hoped to share his script with Logan, but he was busy at the moment, and he so rarely was this casual with the others; Roman figured it better to let him be for the time being. He pulled his notebook from under his arm and summoned a pencil from his desk. If he couldn’t share his idea, he might as well get started on the next.

He spent around five minutes doodling a new creature to introduce into the Imagination when Logan finally seemed to notice he was there.

“Ah, Roman! Apologies, I hadn’t noticed you were here. What was the idea you were working on?” he asked. He turned off the stove and fully turned to Roman, looking past Janus. Roman was almost ashamed to say he felt a certain degree of satisfaction that Logan had put aside his conversation with Janus in favor of speaking with him. Keyword being "almost."

“Well, it is a most illustrious, melodic creation--” Roman sunk down from the living room and rose into the kitchen, laid his now open notebook on the counter, and gestured towards it with a bow-- “Behold, the newest Shoutout Sunday!” He smiled and rose from his position, bouncing on his feet a bit as Logan rested his chin on his hand, looking thoughtful, and read it. Logan gave a slight, satisfied smile.

“So you’ve worked ahead of schedule, then. Wonderful! Good work, Roman."

“I know,” Roman replied, beaming, “I shall have a new idea by the morn-- perhaps I can even start the next video script!”

“So long as you do not burn yourself out, Roman. Otherwise, I look forward to your next contribution.” Logan closed Roman’s notebook, handed it back to him, and then opened a cabinet, gathering bowls for… Whatever healthy monstrosity was in the pot on the stove. Roman could only guess what it was. Some sort of soup, maybe? “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight, Roman?”

“I’m afraid there are simply too many ideas and too little time, I must return to my work!” Roman replied. Janus narrowed his eyes at him from across the counter.

“I wouldn’t be witnessing any self-neglect right now, would I, Roman?” his voice dripped, cool and patronizing. It carried a lilt of care, but it was clearly faked-- Patton would have scolded him if he’d been listening. Roman rolled his eyes.

“No, I am simply dedicated to my craft! Creations don’t come from thin air, do they?” he replied. Logan tilted his head, brows furrowed.

“...They do,” he said. He raised his palm, and atop it, a paper appeared. “As you can clearly see, I’ve just summoned this piece of paper- Now, it’s not on par with many of your creations, of course, but I’m sure you understand my point. Just last week, you summoned me a new Rubik’s Cube. Don’t you remember?”

Virgil snorted from across the room, and Roman sighed. “Yes, Specs, I- I remember. I meant that metaphorically.”

“That was not a metaphor. According to Oxford Languages Dictionary, a metaphor is 'a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable.' Would you like an example?”

“Not now, Logan. I’ll be taking my leave-”

“Aw,” Patton interrupted, “why not stay? You’ve spent so much time up in your room- Now, I know sometimes we need our alone time, but spending some time with your famILY won’t kill ya!”

“Did someone say kill?” came Remus’ shrill, excited voice from by the lamp where he’d just appeared.

“Not that kind of kill!” Patton rushed, “there will be absolutely no killing on my watch, mister!” Remus put his hands on his hips and blew a raspberry at that, exaggeratedly pouting at him.

“You’re no fun,” he replied. “Nothing wrong with a little casual murder to pass the time! Everyone dies sometime, might as well make it exciting.” Patton grimaced as Virgil’s eyes went wide and he groaned.

“...Everyone dies sometime. We are going to die. Thomas is going to die. Death is inevitable,” Virgil mumbled shakily, though it was still quite loud once the tempest tongue kicked in. He put his hands in his hair, but before he could pull at it, Patton led his hands away.

“Now Remus, that may be true, but there’s no need to dwell on it, especially when you know it will upset Virgil,” Logan said with a strict tone.

“Oh oh, I wonder who’ll go first when Thomas dies? Think it’ll be all at once, or one by one? I vote Roman-”

“Won’t you just shut up?” Roman spoke up, voice raised. “You’re harming Virgil and you know it. Keep your ideas in your side of the Mindscape; We don’t want them here.” His fists balled up as he glared at his brother. Oh, what he’d give to be able to walk up to him, to punch him square in the jaw. He’d love to unsheathe his sword and bury it right in his fucking stomach, to watch the emotions flicker through his eyes as they slowly went glassy and he collapsed to his knees, the blade continuing up through his skin like it was paper, the blood leaking through his clothing and pooling around him on the floor-

Roman blinked hard, brows furrowed. No one had responded to him yet, because it had only been a moment. What kind of thought was that? Certainly not one becoming of a prince. Was Remus messing with him somehow? Roman knew he could project thoughts into Thomas and the others’ heads, but Roman had never experienced it himself-- Why would Remus give him an intrusive thought right now, especially one so gruesome as to include his own gory death by Roman’s hands? He didn’t look like he had done anything, but he had to have, right? Roman didn’t come up with ideas like that. He was light creativity, he was good creativity!

Patton must’ve noticed his distress, as he quickly looked between the two. “Oooookay,” he began, “Remus is being a little inconsiderate of Virgil. And that isn’t okay! But that doesn’t mean we don’t want him at all. Everyone messes up from time to time!”

“But he’s doing it on purpose!” Roman exclaimed. He gestured his arms towards Remus and waved them incredulously. “I mean, look at him! He doesn’t even care!”

Remus didn’t respond, continuing to stand in his spot, smiling and unblinking. Janus cleared his throat, gathering their attention.

“I’m sure Remus just loves being talked about as if he isn’t here. Regardless, it’s hardly fair to criticize him for one incident that’s a result of his function as intrusive thoughts, especially considering that you’ve shown a pattern of worse behavior over the past… What, three years?” He looked towards Logan for confirmation.

“Yes, approximately that long, although that’s a misleading usage of the information. He’s improved over time,” Logan responded.

“Only if you consider his treatment of Virgil exclusively. Regardless, you've proved my point,” Janus said, sounding satisfied. “If it took Roman three years to warm up to Virgil, why does Remus only get a few months? Not to mention that he’s just being told that he’s unwanted and to leave, you've never experienced despite your actions, and which is preposterous notwithstanding.”

Virgil finally ripped his hands from Patton and covered his ears, shutting his eyes tightly.

“Shut up shut up shut up!” he said frantically. Patton bit his lip and looked around the room.

“Listen, usually I’d encourage a healthy family discussion, but now’s really not the time to be doing this-- Roman, please go to your room. Remus, I’m not mad at you, but I’d really appreciate it if you would go ahead and leave for the night, too.”

Roman stared at Patton for a moment, mouth agape and brows furrowed. “My room- Patton, I’m not five! This isn’t even my fault-”

“Don’t argue, Roman,” Logan cut him off, “Do as Patton said. We’ll discuss this more in-depth later.”

Roman gave a loud scoff as he trudged across the room and began making his way up the stairs. He gave one last glare to Remus, who’d finally begun to move, and then continued to his room, where he fell backwards onto his bed. He closed the door with a flick of his hand, and stared at the ceiling, letting out a resigned sigh as he reminisced. Why was everything so backwards nowadays, he wondered? When had the dastardly acts of his brother become the new norm, overshadowing his own heroism and creativity?

It wasn’t as if Roman could even do anything about it, either; Patton’s decisions on what was right and wrong was like the word of law in the Mindscape. Sure, Roman could challenge his thinking, but he hardly wanted a repeat of his… Frog incident. He couldn’t bear it if he distressed him that much again. All Roman could hope for was that one day, sooner rather than later, someone would either talk some sense into him, or he’d come to the realization himself that Remus was merely a parasite to their famILY.

For now, at least, Roman could dream.

‘Patton loves me just as much as the others. He’s a dad! Dads love all their children equally.‘

‘Even if it seems like it sometimes, no one really hates me- Well, besides Remus.’

‘...And even if they do, I can fix it.’

Even if it meant lying to himself.

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jamilelucato · 4 years

Text

1.Beautiful [hog. heathers]

Summary: This story is based on Heathers, the musical. It’s set in Hogwarts, back in the last year Tom Riddle studied there. Y/N is a Ravenclaw student.

Pairing: Tom Riddle x reader (later on)

Heathers Series || Musical Hogwarts List A/N: first chapter! Here you get a vision of this world I built but soon Tom will make an appearance. Hope you enjoy it! If you wanna be tagged, ask!

Tag List: @just-an-outstanding-auror @starcrossedyanderes @doctorriddle @cchris-a

---

September 1st, 1943:

Dear diary, I believe I’m a good person. You know, I think that there’s good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year! And uh... I look around at these kids that I’ve known all my life, and I ask myself—what happened?

Another year back at Hogwarts. Your parents were excited — you, not so much. Not that the school wasn’t great, but you just couldn’t take the other students anymore.

Your family was pureblood and that generally meant some sort of status. Not anymore — the most popular kids in Hogwarts were either half-bloods or muggle-borns, so you and some fellow friends that were also purebloods were generally bullied. They saw you as potential threats, and you couldn’t understand why. It was not like purebloods wanted to see muggle-borns dead; most of you just didn’t want to mix the blood.

One step inside the train and the gossip started:

“Freak!”

“Slut!”

“Burnout!”

“Bug-eyes!”

You sighed on your way to finding an empty space to sit. You were so tiny, happy and shiny; playing tag and getting chased. Singing and clapping, laughing and napping; baking cookies, eating paste.

You looked inside one compartment and weren’t welcomed.

“Bull-dyke, get out!” screamed a large boy at you.

Well, diary, you continued later when you finally found a place to sit, then we got bigger, that was the trigger, like the Huns invading Rome.

“Oh, sorry!” you said the boy before leaving his cabin.

Welcome to my school, this ain’t no high school. This is the Thunderdome. Hold your breath and count the days, we’re graduating soon. A job will be paradise if I’m not dead by June!

You were almost reaching the end of the train, and you still couldn’t find an empty place.

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful; I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again.

We can be beautiful...

There were fewer students as you were walking, but still, none seemed so happy with the idea of sitting with you.

Things will get better soon as my letter comes from the Charms Specialization Center in France. Wake from this coma, take my diploma, then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy-covered walls and smoky French cafés...

“Watch it!” shouted a tall blonde boy that had bumped into you. You didn’t even notice, but he was angry, and, as a revenge, he made you drop your diary. “Ooooops,” he laughed.

You looked at the boy. It was Ram Sweeney. Third-year as Gryffindor’s beater and seventh year of smacking kids, and being a huge... “Dick,” you whispered, suddenly angry for having to get the diary from the floor.

“What did you say to me, skank?”

Shit, he listened. “Aah, nothing!” you quickly got out of the way.

You know, diary, we were kind before; we can be kind once more. We can be beautiful...

An empty cabin at last! You sat down as fast as you could, scared it could disappear. A girl walked in just after you, and, for a moment, you were frightened.

“Hey, Myrtle!”

Myrtle was the only one you could call your friend at that place. Both of you were from Ravenclaw and had a lot of fun together, even though you two had some different perspectives on life.

“Hey,” she smiled, sitting next to you.

The train trip wasn’t much fun, but after Myrtle and you found a place to sit — and nobody tried to take you two out —, things were more peaceful.

School, on the other hand, was the same nightmare as always.

Professor Dippet said a couple of nice words before the start of the first feast, kind words about how to treat each other. For a second, it seemed as if everybody listened and were committed to obeying. But as said, it didn’t last the whole second. When the Headmaster finished his speech, people were back at their normal mean behaviour.

Days passed like a blur, or at least, you pretend that was how it went. You tried not to focus on the offensive words the students called you and Myrtle, but sometimes it was just too much.

“We on for book night?” asked Myrtle while leaving the Great Hall and walking towards the dorms.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be with them,” you replied, smiling slightly. Myrtle had a way to trick the librarian that you never managed to have.

“Got us the ‘The Princess Bride’,” she smirked, making you giggle.

“Ho-ho-ho, again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for a happy ending” Myrtle crossed her arms and squeezed herself as if she had been hugged by a prince.

So different from you, but yet, the only friend you had.

“Myrtle Crybaby! Hoow!” Kurt Kelly screamed, knocking Myrtle to the ground.

Kurt Kelly was the famous Chaser from Slytherin. The smartest guy on the team, in your opinion, but that was like being the tallest dwarf.

“Hey! How dare you?!” you barked at him, helping Myrtle to get up. She was lived red, ashamed of the situation.

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Kurt smirked in a mean way, challenging you.

“Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future human house-elf,” you hoped your face was as severe and furious as you were inside.

Kurt waited for you to end your speech before confidently pointing something on your face. “You have a zit right there,” he said and laughed, followed by all the other kids around you.

November 13rd, 1943:

Dear diary, why do they hate me? Why don’t I fight back? Why do they act like such creeps?

Why…

You looked around the room, making sure everybody was already asleep. Myrtle was even snoring, which made you giggle in the dark.

Writing a diary was a private thing for you, but there weren’t many ways to be in private in Hogwarts.

Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!

***

The next day promised to be as tedious as the day before, but something was different. At first, you thought it was just the change of seasons — the cold air of Winter. But it wasn’t all that.

Classes were nice. You liked your Professors, at least when they were teaching, they were neat.

You ate lunch at the Great Hall at the Ravenclaw table, just like all the days before. But that feeling in your stomach of something unusual was still there.

“Going to the toilet, okay?” you told Myrtle before leaving. In fact, there was nothing you wanted to do there except splash water in your face and see if things went back to normal.

That was when the Heathers walked in, and you hurried to close yourself behind a door, too terrified to face them.

The Heathers was a group of girls that floated above it all.

Heather McNamara was the hot witch form Hufflepuff. Her dad is loaded— one of the wizards with more money, but he was a muggle-born, so your family usually didn’t talk about him.

Heather Duke was the head girl from Slytherin, with no discernible personality, but blessed with an incredible body.

And Heather Chandler, the Almighty. She was a mythic bitch from Gryffindor and had everyone at her feet.

They’re solid Teflon—never bothered, never harassed.

I would give anything to be like that, you thought, lamenting in the toilet.

You sit in quiet, listening to their conversation. One of the girls rushed to the toilet, and you heard her vomit.

“Grow up, Heather. Bulimia is so ‘37,” said one of the Heathers, and based on her tone — such leaderlike— you guessed that was Chandler.

“Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather,” the other Heather suggested.

The one vomiting exhaled loudly before answering. “Yeah, Heather. Maybe I should.”

“Ah, Heather and Heather” oh shit, you gasped, recognizing that voice immediately, “...and Heather. Perhaps you didn’t notice the time with all the vomiting. You’re late for class.”

That bossy voice belonged to Ms Fleming, the second in command when the Headmaster wasn’t around, and also identified as the Herbology Professor. And knowing her, she was about to punish the girls.

Noticing you kept your diary in hands, you took a piece of paper out and scribbled on it.

“Heather wasn’t feeling well. We’re helping her,” H. Chandler told the Professor.

“Not without a hall pass, you’re not,” you could feel Ms Fleming was smiling even though you couldn’t see her. “Week’s detention.”

Done!, you thought before rushing out of the toilet.

“Um, actually, Professor Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass. Christmas committee,” you informed, getting out of the toilet, keeping a straight face and handing her the paper.

Professor Fleming took her time to analyze the piece of paper, and you held your breath until she finally returned it to you.

“I see you’re all listed. Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

Heather Chandler was staring at you like you were an abnormal animal she had just discovered, but you couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

“This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?”

“Uh... y/N y/L/N,” you fastly replied. “I crave a boon.”

H. Chandler raised a brow at you as if you made no sense. “What boon?”

“Um, let me sit at your table at lunch. Just once. No talking necessary,” Heather remained silent, so you continued, “if people think that you guys tolerate me, then they’ll leave me alone...”

The first Heather to laugh was Chandler, of course, but it didn’t take more than a second for the other two to follow. It was as if they needed Chandler’s permission to laugh.

“Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes,” you added, hoping this would change their view.

Heather Duke widened her eyes, raising her eyebrows at an abnormal height. “How about prescriptions?”

“Shut up, Heather,” H. Chandler’s reprehension came quickly.

“Sorry, Heather,” H. Duke ducked, almost embarrassed.

The three Heathers exchanged a look, planning something. You shivered — your destiny was in their hands, but, unfortunately, that rarely meant a promising one.

Chandler stepped forward, looking you up and down.

“For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure.”

“And you have a symmetrical face,” added Heather McNamara, holding your face with one hand. “If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I’d have matching halves. That’s very important.”

Heather Duke frowned her brow.

“Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds,” she was one to talk — always vomiting what she ate.

Heather Chandler pulled the other Heathers away, pulling you by the hand. “And ya know? This could be beautiful,” she seemed to investigate what was lacking on your face. “Mascara, maybe some lip gloss and we’re on our way. Get this girl some blush; and Heather, I need your brush. Let’s make her beautiful.”

McNamara agreed with a smile, but Duke was pretending not to care. She never liked it when Chandler played the helper.

“Okay?” the Gryffindor asked before using the brush on you.

“Okay!” you agreed, a bit too loud.

Heather Chandler took you by the hand out of the bathroom and towards the Gryffindor Tower, with McNamara and Duke following behind. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought it would stop. It was one of your biggest dreams to be with the Heathers, and there you were, walking into Chandler’s room, unable to stop smiling.

She took a long time with your hair — which you didn’t even know needed a makeover. McNamara had the job of applying makeup, and she did it happily.

Heather Duke, however, wasn’t so thrilled to have to get you new uniforms.

“Oh, come on, Heather, just ask the boys — they’ll steal it for you,” said Chandler, rolling her eyes at her best friend.

“Fine,” she sighed before leaving.

According to them, there were more than just the traditional style of uniform, and they’d have lent theirs to you, but since you were a Ravenclaw, they had nothing in your house colour.

Heather Duke appeared half an hour later with the new uniform — all in blue, but so much more fashionable than the one you always used.

You didn’t bother asking from who she stole because that wasn’t the first wrong thing you were doing that day. The first thing was skipping the rest of the classes just to get the proper look.

***

“I reckon we’re ready,” said Heather Chandler, but she didn’t let you look yourself in the mirror. She said it would jinks it. “Now, let’s go. People need to know the new you.”

The new you. They didn’t even know the old you.

As soon as you stepped in the corridors, the whispered started, and this time, they weren’t making fun of you.

“Who’s that with Heather?” you heard someone ask.

The feeling of leaving everyone speechless was something you had never felt before and yet, so good. You and the Heathers stopped at the Courtyard — part of Chandler’s plan of introducing you.

“Y/N?!” you heard from behind and turned only to see Myrtle, holding her book with both hands and her mouth wide open.

She didn’t dare come closer to the Heathers so you could only wave at your friend. She didn’t look bothered, however. She knew once at the dorms, you’d tell her everything.

“You know, we should have found a Ravenclaw before,” said Heather Chandler. “It was the house missing from our group.”

“We were waiting for a girl named Heather though,” remembered the Slytherin Heather.

“Well, yes, but now we’re in our last year. Nobody new is ever coming, Heather,” said Chandler, practically ending the discussion so Duke could say nothing else.

You had never been so close to the Heathers before, so you had no way of knowing, but even though the three of them were at the top of the pyramid, it was H. Chandler who stood at the very top. You’d have to be careful if you wanted to be amongst them more often.

After all, you were a Heather now.

November 14th, 1943:

Dear diary, you know, life can be beautiful. You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! Ask me how it feels lookin’ like hell on wheels... My God, it’s beautiful! I might be beautiful...

Oh, diary... It’s a beautiful frickin’ day!

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle fanfic #rom riddle imagine #hogwarts #voldemort #voldemort x reader #harry potter #wizarding world #hp

101 notes · View notes

ichigo-kamome · 3 years

Text

Hold It In - Jukebox The Ghost - a Kagehina one shot

This one shot is heavily inspired by oq_keiji on ao3 called “afraid of what i’ll find”. The timeline is structured the same way as her fanfic, and we highly recommend you check it out! https://archiveofourown.org/works/30808232?view_adult=true This one shot is meant to be around the time that Hinata Shoyo and Kageyama Tobio are in their third year of high school. The title of this one shot is the song that inspired the storyline! Here is a link to the playlist we have created for this one shot and upcoming one shots! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2B4DwHhh7yQN63SsYRAmU0?si=d35ca62dda4641d7

Also I wasn’t able to proof read this before I went to work, so my apologies for any errors!!

WE HOPE YOU ENJOY! - ichigo-kamome <3

“I’m terribly sorry, but… Well, I’m not all that interested!” Shoyo said politely, as Kageyama stared blankly. He was completely taken aback by this, though he shouldn’t have been.

“I’m sorry! I appreciate the gesture! Have a great day!” Hinata finished, running back to the commotion of the gymnasium. His classmate remained dumbfounded.

That’s the fifth time this week, and it’s only Tuesday! Kageyama thought as he received the ball his underclassman bumped to him. How many confessions is Shoyo going to get this year..? His mind began swirling with thoughts of countless girls coming to steal Hinata’s attention… Maybe even a few guys, too.

“Welcome back, heartbreaker,” Tsukishima teased as Hinata bounded over to his friends anxiously. Yamaguchi snickered, but tried not to laugh so hard as to be insensitive. Tsukki didn’t care about this, and rather laughed louder than Hinata would have liked.

“Tsukki!” Hinata hushed as heads turned towards them. “Now you’ve done it…” Yachi was making her way over to the four, her ponytail swaying as she rushed over.

“Shoyo!” she exclaimed in a whisper, grasping the cuff of his shirt and pulling him over. “Don’t tell me you just declined ANOTHER girl…?” She looked somewhat upset, confused, and nervous. A mix of emotions that Tobio was afraid to get in the way of, frankly.

“SHHH!” Shoyo said, placing a finger to his lips and whipping his head around frantically. “Don’t have to tell the whole team!” The shade of red on his face was becoming deeper by the second, revealing his utter embarrassment. Yachi let go of him and sighed, shaking her head and giggling slightly.

“I swear, you need to learn a better way of turning those poor girls down. How about I help you some time? Because whatever you keep doing, it’s not working. Those poor girls always run off crying,” Yachi said, a sad tone behind her words. Hinata nodded, beginning to discuss a time the two could work on their studies together while also learning the proper way to let someone down.

“Hey, why do you even reject these girls? Isn’t there one you find pretty or something?” Tsukki interrupted the chatter bluntly, causing Hinata to turn red once again. There was an awkward silence that hung in the air, which only one person understood the reasoning for. It felt thick, filled with confusion and suppressed emotions. The team’s captain sucked in a deep breath before speaking, as if to gain the courage to break the void before them.

“Okay, let’s get back to volleyball,” Yamaguchi interjected, breaking the deafening silence. “We can talk about it after practice, if necessary!” His soft smile made the situation feel less tense, causing Hinata to take a mental sigh of relief.

Kageyama sensed the tension, but couldn’t pinpoint the reason for it. There wasn’t anything that stuck out in his mind as abnormal when it came to Hinata rejecting other girls. He was very focused on volleyball, of course. So it’s not as if he actually had time to go on dates and such with anyone else. It made sense in his brain. Regardless of the reason, Kageyama was somewhat relieved that Shoyo had never accepted anyone’s confession. That was all he allowed himself to expand on that subject.

Yamaguchi was practically Hinata’s guardian angel that day, and he was somewhat aware of this. The awkward pause that Hinata had displayed was enough to confirm his already present suspicion. It was so obvious - the two liked each other. Tadashi was always very observant of his fellow teammates, paying a careful eye to how they interacted with one another. It was his current job as captain of the volleyball team to ensure that everything was running smoothly. This involved picking up on unsaid words within conversations and acting in accordance to what he could understand. And from what he just saw… Well, at least Hinata wasn’t comfortable with making statements in regards to romantic feelings.

The rest of the practice ran smoothly from what Tadashi could see. His teammates were all improving significantly, which caused a grin to appear on his face. He was improving, as well. It was nice to witness growth, especially when he was partaking in it. Half way through practice, though, Yachi had waved him over during a water break. Tadashi jogged lightly to his friend, who had a concerned expression on her face. “Everything okay, Yachi..?”

“Tadashi, what was the whole… situation earlier… about? Is Sho okay?” Another silence filled the space between them, causing the captain to suck in a large breath as he debated what to say next.

“Yeah, no, I think it’s okay right now!” His smile was stiff. Yachi noticed, raising an eyebrow. “He just doesn’t seem to enjoy discussing romantic interests, you know? Or at least… that’s what I could see!”

Yachi nodded happily, but wasn’t quite convinced that everything was okay with Hinata. So, she decided to bring it up with him herself the next time she saw him, which was during their study session.

“Hey Sho, do you like anyone?”

It took a moment for Hinata to fully register what was just asked of him. He started blankly at his homework, then whipped his head up to Yachi. She had her eyes locked onto her pencil that was scribbling away on her paper. It was as if she had never asked in the first place. Hinata felt the temperature of his face skyrocket. He figured he could just ignore it and pretend he didn’t hear her, so he looked back down at his assignment and pretended to write nonsense.

“Sho, are you okay..?”

“YES!”

“That wasn’t convincing.”

“YES!”

A staring competition had spontaneously begun between the two. The silence was, once again, deafening. Hinata’s brows were furrowed, his gaze fixed on his friend’s eyebrows. He figured if he looked into her eyes, he would be done for. The thick, deafening silence returned once again. Yachi simply exhaled, turning her focus back to her studies. Hinata’s face softened, and the expression of irritation changed to that of confusion.

“Sorry,” broke the silence in a soft tone. Hinata didn’t move, holding still as if to not explode. “I don’t quite know why I’m pushing so much… It’s not like me.” A slight laugh escaped her lips as she looked at her notes.

The silence, the silence, the silence. This wasn’t like Hinata, to be so quiet. So, he mustered up the courage, - or rather, exploded of emotion, - and blurted into the impenetrable void, “I like someone.”

“What?”

“I like someone.”

“Oh. So that’s why you reject the girls..? But if you can get any girl you like by this point, why not just talk to her?”

“It’s not like that-”

“It’s not like what?”

“It’s not like he’s a girl.”

Yachi’s jaw dropped, her hand flying to her mouth. She tried to close it, but to no success. Eyes wide, she stared at Shoyo who had finally made eye contact with her. Of course, how did I not see this before?! She thought, memories of the past flying through her head at light speed. Suddenly, his being quiet made so much more sense than before.

“You cannot tell anyone. I don’t even want to feel this way, I just… do? I can’t really describe it, I’m not good with this stuff,” he spoke, moving his hand to the back of his head and crossing his legs. Yachi shook her head rapidly.

“I won’t tell anyone, promise!”

“And it’s not like it’s even been a long time.”

“Really?”

“No, it hasn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“SURE?”

“WELL-” Yachi wanted to elaborate, but the two couldn’t even begin to speak coherent thoughts anymore as the room filled with their laughter. The joyful interaction caused the tension to break, allowing Hinata to relax and again and Yachi to take a breath. She was still concerned for her friend, but at least she had a way to help him now. “I won’t pry anymore, my apologies! And your secret is safe with me, I swear!”

“Thanks, Yachi,” the boy sighed, resting his head in his notebook to try and hide his still burning face.

“Now, about how to politely decline girls…”

---

“Hey, Hinata, pass me my water bottle?” Kageyama asked during break one practice. Shoyo grabbed his water bottle and jogged over to him, beginning a light conversation which escalated into friendly banter. Yachi stood on the side of the gym, studying the writing on her clipboard. Her eyes flitted back and forth between the writings and her friend’s interactions, trying to examine facial expressions and body language.

“So, how was studying with Shoyo?” Yachi felt her feet practically leave the ground upon hearing Tadashi’s voice. Though she was much more confident in herself, she did still get spooked by the slightest of things sometimes.

“Studying..? Stu… OH, it went well!” Her head nodded up and down rapidly, which led to an eyebrow raise from the captain.

“Did you figure out why Shoyo had been acting weird the other day..?” The feeling of conversation suddenly changed as Yachi felt a pit appear in her stomach. Her heart sank slightly. I promised Hinata I wouldn’t be telling anyone anything, but I don’t want to lie to another friend… Wow wow wow, this is a tough one…

“Oh, that! Well, yeah, sort of, and everything is a-ok!” Yachi nodded once again. Yamaguchi’s eyebrow raised once again.

“Oh, well I won’t pry too much if he’s doing well!” He grinned, turning to face his two friends still caught up in conversation on the court. The mannerisms. Body language. Unsaid words. “They totally like each other.”

“Yep.” Tsukishima interjected from the other side of Yachi. She jumped again, but just slightly this time. Her gaze swiftly returned to the pair. The three of them observed, and noticed that the two were almost in their own little world. It was as if it was just them in the gym, talking back and forth like a game. Kei glanced over at Tadashi. Unspoken words. Don’t disrupt them. They just aren’t ready to tell each other. Kei nodded, setting down his water bottle and retying his shoelaces.

“Alright, let’s work on passing drills!” Yamaguchi spoke above the chatter. As the team walked over he looked back at Yachi, who looked still somewhat nervous.

“He told you, yeah?” He said in a hushed tone. All he received was a simple nod.

“Don’t worry, there’s no telling here.” He smiled softly at her, keeping his gaze fixed just on her for a moment. He then turned away, and jogged over to his teammates.

---

“Hey, mind if I tag along?” Tobio questioned his friend as they left the club room that day. Hinata stopped walking and felt this little… dance? in his heart. He sucked in a breath, but not one deep enough that could be heard by his friend.

“Oh, wanna come hang out? Ya lonely at home?” Hinata teased, causing Kageyama to pout. The pair walked next to each other, Hinata wheeling his bike to his opposite Kageyama. Their eyes were dead set ahead, because both individuals knew if they looked at the other, they wouldn’t be able to keep their cool.

“Pff, not lonely, dumbass. Just want to… I guess, make the most of the year? It’s our last one,” Kageyama said matter of factly. Hinata’s smile faded ever so slightly, just enough that one wouldn’t notice unless they paid close attention to him.

“Yeah, good point. Okay, then yes. In fact, you’re basically obligated to! And, maybe we ask the other t-”

“Or we just hang out, us two.” Hinata attempted to suppress a reaction and gripped firmly to his bicycle’s handles, but what he didn’t realize was that in and of itself was a reaction. I think I said that out loud- Wait- “Well, just like, this time, because the other’s are already on their way home.”

“Well, I know that, dummy-yama! I meant later, like, over the course of this year kind of thing. Tonight we’ll hang out just us, because we are both lonely!” A triumphant mood was in the words he spoke, though the last part of what he just said was not particularly lending to ‘triumphant.’

“HEY, WE AREN’T LONELY!” Tobio exclaimed, to which Shoyo just laughed. The taller tried to keep his composure, but soon lost it as laughter rang through the air.

He has this way of making situations feel less tense. His smile could make anyone feel warm inside, to the point where they forget the absence of that heat exists. Tobio looked over to his friend, trying his best not to give away his true feelings. He sure is somethin’.

It wasn’t long before the house was in sight. “Race ya!”, of course, were the first words said when the two could see it. Tobio darted ahead, much further in the lead because he didn’t have to wheel a bike beside him. However, he was soon overtaken by Hinata, who had the bright idea of riding the bike.

“HINATA, YOU DUMBASS!” rang through the air as the dark haired boy did his very best to speed up, but to no success.

“I WIN, TAKE THAT!”

“ONLY BECAUSE YOU CHEATED!”

“Hey now, I was only using my resources wisely,” Shoyo huffed, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows. He dropped his bike and ran inside, alerting his sister and mother that he arrived safely. Tobio smiled, shaking his head. He followed his friend inside, trying to wipe the smitten expression off of his face.

“Hi, Tobio,” said a sleepy Natsu, who had a blanket wrapped around herself. Tobio waved, trying to hide his face still. Her eyes widened, and she stared blankly up at him. Her eyebrows furrowed. She crossed her arms. “Why are you always so angry?”

“Wh- I AM NOT ANGRY, I-”

“Oh, that’s just his face. I thought I told you that last time, Natsu?” Hinata said, slipping off his shoes and walking into the kitchen. Kageyama stood there, dumbfounded by the interaction that just happened, trying not to burst with emotion. Whether that emotion was annoyance or joy, he couldn’t tell… but it sure was emotion.

“Yeah, it’s… just my face,” he stated coolly, repeating Hinata’s actions. He followed his friend, still feeling a little stiff in the environment. It wasn’t as if he had never been to Hinata’s house, in fact he came here to study every now and then. However, he felt a burning in his chest of anxiety, likely due to the fact that it wasn’t just Hinata’s house that he was in anymore. Well, it was, but was also the house of his crush. One that by now, he had hoped would fade. He wanted to be satisfied with a friendship. But, naturally, the more he tried to push it down the stronger it grew.

“Ya want some food?” Shoyo’s voice pierced through Tobio’s racing thoughts. He stared at him for a second, then realized he had been staring for more than just a second. Trying not to seem too obviously nervous he nodded his head. Shoyo smiled and started to find some food to eat.

The bubbly boy bounced around the kitchen, but didn’t exactly know how to cook a proper meal. Well, he did, but he wanted to make sure it was just right for his friend.

Friend. He tried not to linger too long on that word, because it only caused his heart to clench slightly. Why it felt this way, he couldn’t explain properly. Regardless, he knew he felt something for Tobio that was more than just a friendship. Not like that would ever but spoke about publicly, but it was there.

Shoyo’s mom came into the kitchen and began to prepare a meal for the boys, talking about how school was going, how volleyball was going, what Tobio had been up to lately, et cetera, et cetera. Small talk helped both of the boys' hearts to still a bit, focusing on something besides each other.

Thank you, mom. Hinata thought to himself. Little did he know, Kageyama was thinking the same thing.

The meal went over well, the boys talking with the family about the antics they had been getting up to in volleyball, school, the usual. Natsu seemed very sleepy the entire time, and it looked like she might pass out onto the plate in front of her.

“Natsu, how has volleyball been for you?” Tobio asked her. She looked up at him as if he had just set off a firework on New Year’s day in the shape of a puppy. Natsu no longer looked like she was tired, but rather began rambling endlessly about how much fun she was having and how wonderfully it was going. Tobio listened with obvious interest, and Shoyo watched from his seat.

Kageyama’s a much cooler guy than I used to think he was, Hinata thought to himself, watching the two chatter back and forth about the sport they both adored.

Before they knew it, bed time had arrived. It felt like two seconds had passed since they had arrived, truthfully. Kageyama was a little upset that the night had to come to an end, but he didn’t let it show.

The friends brushed their teeth and changed into pajamas - “You can borrow some of mine! My aunt got these flannel pants for me as a gift but they are way too long, they should fit you!” - and then stared at the floor before them. Hinata’s bed was a roll out which was just big enough for ‘one person’ which meant someone would have to sleep on the floor.

“I don’t mind,” said Tobio.

“No, no, you’re my guest!” Shoyo insisted, finding some spare blankets and pillows and settling himself on the floor near his friend.

Friend. That word echoed through each boy's mind as they tried to sleep.

Tobio had been aware of these feelings for a longer period of time than Shoyo. He was pretty sure he had recognized them first when he told Sho, “As long as I’m here, you’re invincible.” That’s when his heart first clenched, when he first noticed something out of the ordinary, when Shoyo’s sunshiney personality became more beautiful.

For Hinata, it had taken a little longer. Entering their third year, he realized that there was this burning feeling in his chest when he looked at Kageyama. When he set up the volleyball for him to spike, Hinata felt that burning again. It had entirely thrown him off at first, causing him to have to resync and try again to hit the ball a few times. Even still, he felt the burning. He was just… more comfortable with it now.

He still tried to deny his feelings. Kageyama was his friend, his rival. He shouldn’t have feelings for a friend. The burning was just anxiety about this year, about the pressure, about… anything else. However, he knew that wasn’t true. He was still coming to terms with this.

Shoyo, nearly asleep, rolled over out of habit and suddenly was right next to Tobio. Tobio felt a pang of anxiety rush through him. Do I say something? He’s probably already asleep. We’re just friends, it’s not a big deal. This is very normal. Don’t make it awkward. He tried to calm himself down. He smells nice. I can feel his warmth. I wish I could move a little closer, but I shouldn’t Don’t make it awkward.

Tobio’s thoughts raced wildly through his head. There was no way he was sleeping tonight.

He laid there for an hour or so, still trying to calm himself and still his rapidly beating heart. He had been slightly successful, but nonetheless, still nervous. Then, his friend moved closer. Hinata had his arms around him. He was asleep, there was no doubt in Kageyama’s mind. There was no way he could move now. Though, he placed his arms gently around his friend and allowed himself to relax. Soon, he drifted off as well.

Waking up was the hard part. Hinata woke up first, somewhat surprised by the entanglement he found himself in. His face turned red, and the heart clenching and burning had returned. He didn’t move, though. He didn’t want to. That and he couldn’t because he was slightly paralyzed by the fact that he was laying with his crush.

It’s just Tobio, don’t label him that. Hinata thought, then sitting up and walking to the door. He turned, looking at his friend. He smiled, seeing a sleepy Tobio lying peacefully. He smiled softly, feeling a different kind of warmth in his chest than before. This one felt like tea and honey, as if things would work out between the two of them.

Then he furrowed his eyebrows at the setter, frowned, and the warmth was gone. Now, there was heat. An anger for the boy.

Why do I have these feelings for you?

Kageyama thought the same thing that day in their first year. He didn’t allow himself to feel them while they were on the court, but afterwards, that was the only thought running through his head.

Why?

The same one Hinata was forced to be faced with now, on a random morning in his third year. Next year, he will be off to Brazil and Kageyama will be playing on some amazing team here in Japan. Miles, and miles, and miles away from each other with time differences and emotions they both were struggling to suppress.

Why?

Neither figured they would find the answer to that. But, maybe it wasn’t a matter of why they felt this way, but rather, what next?

What next?

That wasn’t for them to decide right now. And so, they continued on just like they always had been. And, for now, that was enough.

It would have to be.

6 notes · View notes

lonelyreputation · 4 years

Text

Caught

A/N: Hello hello! Here’s some (more) fluff!! Who am I? But anyway, I wrote this from this sensory request and it was actually the first request I GOT ON THIS BLOG (!!!) so I'm so sorry that it’s coming so late!! But I’ll always remember this request bc it was the first🥺

Anywaayyyy thank you all so much for reading, sending me the nicest messages, reblog-ing, and requesting prompts!! I get so much motivation from you all it’s insane!! Thank you!! I appreciate every single one of you!!

PROMPT: Licking your fingers while eating Cheetos

Chat Chat Chat | MASTERLIST

Warnings: One (1) swear word & a bit of a heated make out session😶

Word Count: 3.9K

Being a twenty-year-old and playing sold out shows in stadiums around the world was abnormal. But what was more abnormal was that the twenty-year-old who spent most of his time on a tour bus than in his own apartment was your boyfriend. Not many people could say that their boyfriend was in Amsterdam one day and then Paris the next.

Shawn had spent spring in Europe on a tourbus and hotel rooms, and his summer wasn’t much different, except for the fact that he was on his North American leg of the tour. He had convinced you to come traveling across America; it was more in your budget and convenient with your university schedule.

Every now and then, Shawn would have some down time, but it wasn’t very often. He kept apologizing whenever he was pulled away and promised to spend time with you more. But you didn’t mind. Shawn had given you a front seat to his career and everything it entails. And it was fascinating. You would be in one city and everyone would already be advancing for a show that was two weeks away. The precision and detail of obscure jobs that some crew had gone over your head in the past, but seeing all the mechanics of everything that goes on for the show to happen…it made you appreciate Shawn’s performances even more.

You had gotten fairly close with Shawn’s head of tour merchandiser, Dane, and often found yourself helping him set up the merchandise stands when Shawn was off at a meet and greet, sound check, or wherever Andrew had pulled him away to.

“Are you playing in the little soccer match they have going on later today?” You asked Dane as you carried over a large brown cardboard box.

He held up a finger to you as he finished up his count in of tour posters and typed it on a tour merchandise app on his phone, “Yeah, you?”

You shook your head as you used a key to tear through the sealed box. Once the tape that held the box together was ripped, you opened the four flaps and saw that you were counting in some sweatshirts. Silently, you counted ten sweatshirts, put them in a pile on the side with a sticky note on top with a number ten circled and then counted out another ten sweatshirts.

“I’ve never been good with hand eye coordination,” you didn’t look up at him as you continued to count ten sweatshirts, “I’ve always been better at cheering people on from the sides.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.”

You had just finished circling a ten on a neon green sticky note as you capped the sharpie and looked at Dane, “You’ve noticed?”

Dane nodded with a smile on his face as he hung up a piece of paper with a blown up image of a keychain; he stuck a large sticker with the price of the keychain on the corner of the paper. He hung it up on the black tapestry so that way fans would be able to see it before they got up to the front of the merchandise line.

“You’re always there for Shawn when he walks on and off stage. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go to the bathroom when he’s performing.”

You blushed as you finished counting the last of the sweatshirts in the box you carried in, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“He loves it,” Dane took a t-shirt and clipped the sleeves of it to the top of the tapestry, “The week before you came he literally wouldn’t shut up––Y/n’s coming next week, did you know? I just love her so much! I miss her so much!”

You bunched up a t-shirt and threw it at Dane as he miserably failed at impersonating Shawn’s voice, “He didn’t say that.”

“Ask him yourself.”

“Oh, I––“

“Ask who yourself?”

You spun your head around and came face to face with your boyfriend. You smiled at him and threw another balled up shirt at Dane.

“Hey! That’s merchandise we’re selling tonight!”

You waved Dane off and rested your hands on your hips, “Before I came on tour were you non-stop going around telling people I was coming and saying how much you love me and saying how much you missed me?”

Shawn still had a slight smile on his face as he gazed at you. His facial expression hadn’t changed since he walked up behind you, so you thought you had proved Dane wrong, but that wasn’t the case when Shawn spoke up.

He shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah, why?” He spoke as if it that information was public knowledge.

Before you had the chance to say anything, you felt a soft material collide with the back of your head. Your head slightly jerked forward from the contact of the t-shirt that was just thrown at you. You quickly picked the shirt off the dusty ground and glared at Dane, “This is merchandise that you’re selling tonight.”

Dane barked out a laugh as he finished setting up the merchandise display. He stood back and admired his work for a few seconds before informing Shawn he was going to check on the other stands and make sure everyone else on the merchandise team had completed their count in. They did some sort of bro handshake, before telling one another that they’d see each other shortly for the soccer game.

Shawn walked up to your side and threw an arm over your shoulder. You leaned your head back on his shoulder and looked up at him, “Excited for the match?”

“Yeah, just wish you were playing.”

Your eyes closed as Shawn lightly traced circles on your upper arm with the tips of his fingers. Shivers ran down your spine as you closed your eyes, “You’ve seen me play.”

Shawn let out a laugh as he started walking, guiding you around the main floor of the arena, “Even though it is probably a good idea that you’re not playing, it still would’ve been fun to be on the same team.”

You let out a snort as you snaked a hand around his back to pinch his hip. Shawn lightly jerked away from you before he tickled your shoulder in retaliation, “I’d make sure we’d be on separate teams.”

“Is that so?”

You hummed in response and let the conversation die down. Whenever a crew member passed, you offered a smile and Shawn greeted them by name. Seeing the dynamic he had with his crew was heartwarming because you had read of horror stories of main acts being absolute divas to their crew members.

Shawn led you backstage as the two of you wandered into his dressing room. You sat on the couch as he went over to a little duffle bag he packed just for the soccer game. Carefully, you watched him as he bent over, staring at how his shoulder blades could be seen through his white t-shirt as he rummaged through the bag.

Swiftly, he tore his white shirt off and you were graced with a second of seeing your boyfriend’s muscles. The sight didn’t last long because Shawn threw his t-shirt at your face. You scrunched your nose up at the slightly sweaty smell mixed in with his signature scent.

“Hey!”

It only took you a second to throw the shirt off your face, but it was a second too long because Shawn was already in a vintage t-shirt and sliding on a pair of athletic shorts up past his thighs.

“That’s not fair,” you whined.

Shawn threw his head back in laughter as he picked up his sneakers. He walked over to where you sat on the couch, picked up your legs without any hesitation, and as he sat down on the couch, he rested your calves on his thighs.

He hunched over your legs as you watched him slide his sneakers on and tie them up. The position couldn’t have been comfortable, but he managed to get his sneakers on without complaining for you to move your legs. And you weren’t complaining about the physical contact your legs had with his thighs.

Once he was done tying his shoes, he sat up and stretched his back, a few pops emitted from his body and you flinched, not liking the sounds of bones cracking together.

Shawn rested his hands on your knees as he leaned his head on top of the couch cushion, eyes closed he said, “I don’t wanna play.”

A small chuckle left your lips, “That’s a lie.”

He turned his head slightly towards you and opened one eye, “Yeah, I do wanna play,” he let out a sigh, “but sitting here with you is so nice.”

A loud laugh escaped your lips as you looked over at him, both of his eyes now opened and intently staring at you with adoration.

“We’re literally doing nothing.”

“As long as I’m with you,” he lifted his shoulders up in a shrug, “I don’t care what we’re doing.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. Truth is, you loved doing nothing with him. You savored the days when all Shawn wanted to do was spend all day tangled in your bedsheets. You adored the days when you would sit on your couch reading a book––in a similar position to how you were sitting now––and Shawn would be hunched over scribbling lyrics down in a journal, using your legs as a writing surface.

You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Too sweet.”

“Uh huh,” Shawn grumbled as he pointed to his lips with his index finger, “I want a real kiss.”

You pretended to think about it for a moment before swinging a leg over his lap, adjusting your knees on either side as you straddled him. Shawn’s hands instantly moved with your body as they landed on your waist. Unlike your hands that were pressed flat on his chest, Shawn’s hands slowly rubbed your lower back and come back around to your waist.

The only thing more heavenly than his touch was the feeling of his kiss.

Shawn craned his neck up to reach your teasing smile and captured your lips in a sweet kiss. Your smile was slow to disappear; being in Shawn’s presence was a reason for you to smile in itself, but once he pinched your hips silently telling you to focus on kissing him, you thought that was a good enough reason to stop smiling.

Your hands trailed up Shawn’s chest until they rounded his neck. He hummed as he pulled you closer to his chest and your fingers began to play with the small curls on the nape of his neck. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss at the same time his hands tightly balled up the bottom of your shirt. He lifted your shirt at a painstakingly slow pace to the point where you wanted to rip it off yourself.

Shawn had the shirt bunched up right under your bra. Breaking the kiss, you leaned back, untangled your arms from around his neck and raised them over your head to aid Shawn in taking your shirt off. Once the shirt was off, he carelessly threw it somewhere behind you, and without any hesitation, Shawn reattached his lips to yours as you felt a magnetic pull bring you closer to him.

His calloused fingertips were hot on your bare skin as they danced around.

Just as you lowered your body to grind against his, a loud single knock, followed by a Shawn, caused both of your heads to snap toward the door. Shawn practically threw you off him as he looked for your shirt––for anything––to cover up your exposed chest.

You were leaning back against the arm rest of the couch, trying to calm down your erratic breathing, as you watched Shawn’s eyes widened as the door handle rattled. It looked as if Shawn threw every ounce of common sense out the window as he threw a pillow that hit you in the face.

You clutched the pillow in your hands as you briefly looked down at it, and then back to Shawn, realizing what he wanted you to do with it, “I’m not––“

“Use it, Y/n––“

“Shawn!”

Your harsh whispers were cut off when Dane walked carelessly into the room. The pillow was still limp in your hands; in shock that Dane came into the room with little announcement. Shawn took notice of your chest still out for Dane to see––if he hadn’t seen it already––and with panicked eyes, he flung himself from the other end of the couch to lay on top of you.

You let out an oof as you felt Shawn’s full body weight collapsed on you; the pillow nestled between your stomachs. You had never complained about Shawn being on top of you, but with this position, the arm of the couch was digging into your back and you and causing you to cramp up.

“Shawn,” Dane said his name again as he continued to walk further into the dressing room, “Are you gonna come and warm up? The game starts in–––Oh.”

You tried to peak over Shawn’s shoulder to gauge Dane’s facial expression, but with the way Shawn was pressed up against you, you couldn’t see him. But from the suggestive tone of his voice, you knew that teasing would be soon to follow.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You squeaked out a not at all as Shawn let out a frustrated of fucking course.

You smacked Shawn’s back with his hand at his crude response.

Dane let out a bellowing laugh, “How ya feeling down there, y/n?” You heard his footsteps come closer and your hands clutched the fabric of Shawn’s shirt out of nervousness, “This is pure gold. Andrew has said that he’s never caught you two in the middle of doing something––I, of course, called total bull on that––and I’m so happy to have caught you two.”

“Dane,” You said as you drug out the vowels in his name.

His laughter rumbled through the room. Even though Dane was the person you were closest to on Shawn’s crew, it was still embarrassing to have been caught in a compromising position with your boyfriend. It felt like you were fifteen.

“I’ll be out in ten,” Shawn answered.

Dane’s laughter died down as you heard his footsteps carry themselves back over towards the door, “I’ll put a timer on, Oh, and Y/n––“ you could hear the smirk on his lips, “––I hope to see you on the sidelines, preferably with a shirt on.”

You dug your head into the crook of Shawn’s neck as you felt all of the blood rush to your face. Your hands were still tightly hanging onto the back of Shawn’s shirt for the next few minutes as he stayed in his position on top of you.

“At least it was Dane?”

At his weak attempt of lightening up the mood, you pushed him off and sat up on the couch, “At least?! He saw me without a shirt!”

“I covered you up!”

You shot a glare toward his direction as you got up from the couch and searched for your shirt. It was crumpled up in a ball on the coffee table. You let out a deep sigh, of course your shirt was thrown somewhere that was obvious. Lifting the shirt up by the sleeves, you frowned as you examined all of the wrinkles.

“Here,” Shawn was already walking over to his duffle bag, “You can wear my shirt––“

“I’m––No,” you answered him as you tugged on your shirt, “I’d rather wear a wrinkled shirt than have Dane point out that I’m in one of your shirts.”

“But––“

“Let’s go,” you were a few steps away from the door as you held your hand out for him to take, “I want to pick a snack from the vending machine before the game.”

Shawn let out a sigh and grumbled something about how he loved seeing you in his shirts, but he still took ahold of your hand. The two of you walked out the dressing room as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. A small smile overtook his face.

The two of you walked toward the backstage part of the arena where the vending machines were held. You brought up a finger to your chin, debating on what snack to pick, as the vending machine lights illuminated your face. Once you decided what snack you wanted, you pressed a knuckle to the letter L and then to the number 3.

You watched with excitement as the circular black rings slowly pushed your snack forward. And then as it was finally tipping over the edge, you smiled as the bag fell with a soft fmmp as it reached the bottom of the machine. You let go of Shawn’s hand to retrieve your snack from under the plastic black flap.

“Cheetos?” Shawn questioned just as you stood up and opened up the bag with a loud crinkle, “If I’d known you’d want Cheetos, I could’ve like added it to my rider and it would’ve been in the dressing room for you.”

You shrugged your shoulders as you held out the bag, offering your Cheetos to Shawn. He dug his hand into the bag and took one out. He popped it into his mouth with a loud crunch as he closed his eyes, “God, it’s been forever since I’ve had these.”

Shawn led you out of the vending machine room as you continued to share your Cheetos with him, “I remember having them as a snack after soccer games,” you shared, “You know how parents would sign up to bring snacks after games? I feel like every parent would buy that big value size pack of like twenty-four different chips, and I––“ you licked your fingers that were covered in Cheeto dust, “––Always picked Cheetos.”

Shawn tilted his head back in laughter as he pushed open a back exit door and held it open for you to walk through, “I was always more of a Fritos guy.”

You scrunched your nose up, “Fritos?”

“They’re good!” Shawn defended himself as the people from the tour crew, who were playing in the soccer match, came into view, “Don’t knock ‘em ’til you try ‘em.”

You scoffed, “There are literally dozens of other chips you could chose from,” you stopped walking when you and Shawn came up to the sideline his ‘team’ was on, “Doritos, Lays, Chex Mix––“

“Hey, Y/n!” Your eyes widened as you heard Dane yell out your name. His feet hit the pavement hard as he ran over, “Glad you could make it––fully clothed.” While he was talking in a calm soft voice, not raising it to cause suspicion, it still made Andrew’s head perk up.

“You caught them?” Andrew looked up from tying his shoes at Dane.

You blushed as Shawn’s manager looked between the two of you and then back at Dane as you tried to defend yourself, “He didn’t really see anything––“

“See any of what?” Brian had jogged over and started to stretch, lunging on his left leg as he reached down to touch the toes on his right foot.

“It was nothing––“

“Just Shawn and Y/n going at it in the dressing room,” Dane shrugged as he gave you a wink, “Boyfriend, girlfriend stuff.”

Andrew’s shoulders slumped as he reached over to his bag and pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to Dane, “I’m his day-to-day,” Andrew grumbled, “Can’t believe it was the merchandise manager who caught you two first.”

You stood there dumfounded, hand frozen in your bag of Cheetos. You and Shawn kept your relationship as private as possible––private from the media, your social medias, and made sure to keep your PDA to a minimum when you visited him on tour. So it was a bit comical to see how intrigued Andrew and Dane were in catching the two of you.

Brian straightened up from his stretching and held a fist out toward Shawn, “Sweet, man––Just like Denver last tour?”

Your bag of Cheetos dropped to the ground, the little you had left of your snack spilled, covering the pavement with an artificial orange color. You felt the heat of your oncoming blush rise up to your cheeks. With Brian being Shawn’s best friend, you had an inclination that he knew some––if not most––of your sexual relationship with Shawn. Which you were fine with because you told your best friend almost everything.

But it was always a topic you never discussed between the two of you. It was mutually understood that while you talked to your best friend’s about each other, you would never talk about it directly to each other. Shawn talked to Brian about you; You talked to your best friend about Shawn. But never would your best friend bring it up in front of Shawn. And never––did you think––Brian would bring it up in front of you.

The same thought seemed to be stirring within Shawn’s head as his eyes widened for a second. He was only shocked for a split second more before he let out a chuckle and returned the fist bump to Brian and chose to ignore his comment about what happened Denver, “Thanks, man.”

“Thanks man?!” You turned to face Shawn who had an amused smirk on his face.

You weren’t mad at the display of masculinity in front of you, in fact, you saw the humor in it, but it was still embarrassing having your boyfriend be congratulated in front of you for hooking up.

The sound of a high pitch whistle echoed off the pavement. With the sound of the start whistle, and players heading toward the makeshift field, it took away any chance you had of laying into Shawn more.

Brian ran away laughing, escaping the choice words you had for him, which just left you with Shawn. You crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly and tore your head away from Shawn as he lifted a finger under your chin to try and get you to look at him.

“Good luck kiss?”

With a playful sigh, you leaned up on your tip toes to press a peck to Shawn’s smile. His eyes were still closed when you pulled away and his smile grew wider, “You love me.”

“Unfortunately,” you said as you couldn’t fight Shawn’s contagious smile, “I love you a lot.”

Shawn let out a laugh as a few people hollered at him to come over, “How unfortunate for me,” he pressed another quick kiss to your lips before he started to walk backwards toward the game that had started without him, “Are you free tonight?”

You leaned your weight on your left leg as you tapped a finger on your cheek, “Hm…I’m watching my boyfriend sing at a little show,” Shawn stopped walking backwards, his full attention on you, and showed all his teeth in a grin, “But I’m free after.”

“It’s a date,” Shawn said before he spun around and ran toward the soccer ball.

#woot!!#some fluff #and a bit of teasing #:)#all in good fun #come tell me what you thought of it!! I love hearing what you all have to say!!#your messages make my day/night/mid-afternoon/whole year #🤩 🥰#thanks a million!!!#(the next piece of writing I post will be ANGST)#((or it'll be the prologue to my coffee shop au))#(((the angst needs some MAJOR editing so I think the prologue will come first lmao)))#which one would you want to read first?? okay im rambling I'll stop #enjoy!#Shawn mendes #Shawn Peter raul mendes #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes writings #Shawn Mendes writer #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes fan fiction #Shawn Mendes ff #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes x y/n #Shawn Mendes x you #Shawn Mendes reader insert #Shawn Mendes oneshot #Shawn Mendes one shot

141 notes · View notes

mylovelyfandoms · 4 years

Text

Minghao’s Backstory

The Symbol of the Raindrop

Basic Information

A/N: Yeah...this wasn’t my best work...I hope you guys like it though!

Warnings: Panic attacks, parent neglect, bullying, burning

(GIF not mine)

- Minghao grew up under the impression that being an affected was disgraceful

- His family were masters of martial arts and loathed the idea that there were beings that could get the best of them even if they had no training

- They owned a dojo and Minghao’s father made sure to teach his son the moment he could walk

- From a young age, Minghao was taught restraint and discipline

- So he never acted out

- Not even when he realized he could hear what people were talking about even if they were miles away

- Or even when he could see every bump and scratch on the paper when he practiced his calligraphy

- He didn’t even act out when he turned five and found out that he could breathe fire

- Minghao knew exactly what he was

- He knew that it was wrong for him to be able to do all these things, so he kept it from his parents

- Though, he did practice it when he was alone in his room

- For the next three years, Minghao was the model child

- His parents boasted about him at every brunch, every martial arts competition, every time there was a gathering with people outside of his family

- They loved the idea that Minghao was perfect, and especially loved rubbing other people’s noses in it

- But Minghao himself didn’t exactly appreciate it

- Like many ‘picture perfect’ families, the Xu family didn’t exactly get along

- It was more often than not that Minghao’s parents were ignoring him or his grandfather was scolding him for getting something wrong in his martial arts training

- Minghao slowly started to hate it

- He hated the way he saw other families and how they all genuinely loved each other whether people were watching or not

- He hated the way there were certain things he could and couldn’t do

- Minghao felt trapped, but he could never admit it

- So he bottled it inside

- y’all know how that goes...

- But on one particularly bad day...

- Minghao couldn’t get the move that his grandfather taught him

- After receiving a brutal and threatening lecture from his grandfather about how useless he was, Minghao was sent out into the pouring rain to practice the move over and over again until his grandfather was satisfied

- Ever since Minghao turned five, he hated the rain and the cold almost as much as he hated his family

- And his grandfather knew that

- So of course his grandfather just had to ‘forget’ about his grandson

- ‘i’m sorry kid, i’m not as young as i claim to be’

- Minghao only went in when it was pitch black outside

- He stepped into the dojo, fully ready to confront his grandfather

- But when he saw that the dojo was empty...

- His blood started boiling

- So against his better judgment, he sprinted to the house

- Usually, he was so refined, but he had enough of all the abuse and neglect

- Minghao barged into the study and saw his grandfather sitting behind the desk without a single worry for his grandson

- And his parents sitting near the bookshelves with some sort of ‘sophisticated old people’ books

- “Minghao!” His mother shouted

- “How dare you barge in like this! Have you no manners?” His grandfather scoffed

- Everything happened so fast

- One moment, Minghao was screaming about how he was out in the rain for hours

- And the next, the floor caught on fire in front of him

- And then the fire started to surround his family

- They started to scream at Minghao, shouting about how he was a monster and how he had to get them out

- But in the heat of the moment

- get it? heat?

- In the heat of the moment, Minghao’s priority was to save himself

- So as the fire grew, he ran out of the house as quick as he could, not sparing a look back at his family

- The fire crackled and the ceiling started to fall

- As he ran, the flames that surrounded the hallways seemed to make a tunnel for him all the way until he got outside

- He stepped back and took in the view of his house caught up in flames

- “I knew it! He’s a monster!”

- Minghao whipped his head around and saw a crowd of neighbors staring at him with horror

- When he looked down at himself, his blood went cold when he saw his chest glowing a bright orange color that spread to his arms

- He had practiced his powers before, so he knew how to control it, so he took a breath and stopped his powers

- Unfortunately, he was unconsciously keeping the flames from spreading, so the second he stopped, they roared and clung onto the trees all around it

- In a panic, Minghao looked between the crowd of neighbors and the house before bringing his hands up to take control of the flames again

- “He’s burning the house down!” One of the neighbors screamed.

- “Where are the parents and the old man?” Another shouted

- “Someone take the kid down!”

- And next thing he knew, Minghao was tackled to the floor

- The person the was on top of him let out a screech and jumped off of him almost immediately

- “He burned me! he burned me! He’s a monster!”

- Minghao looked around the crowd helplessly, trying to search for some way out

- One part of the crowd split and in came firefighters sprinting towards the fire

- Right behind them, a group of soldiers came running in and in the blink of an eye, Minghao was tossed into the back of a truck

- Minghao was terrified at first, but like many children his age, he wasn’t able to differentiate fear from anger

- His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt a lump in his throat start to form

- Frustrated, Minghao started to thrash around in the back of the truck and make a ruckus

- Eventually, the back of the dark truck lit up and he saw that he was glowing

- He started to throw fireballs all around the truck, only to have them hit the sides and disappear

- it was oddly therapeutic

- “Hey!” The soldiers banged on the wall separating them from Minghao. “Keep it down in there or we’ll shoot!”

- When they arrived at the facility, the soldiers brought Minghao into a room where he got forced to show off his skills

- They then pushed his face into the floor and carved a symbol into his lower back.

- The soldiers didn’t pay him a second glance after that

- Not even when it was obvious that his tattoo was infected

- It was his roommate who pointed it out

- Probably the only words that the boy said to Minghao

- So for the first few days, he tried to talk to the soldiers, ask them for help

- But they just quite literally pushed him away

- So then he turned to some older affected kids, asking for any type of way to heal it

- But they all scoffed at him and basically told him to ‘deal with it himself’

- Even his roommate, a water elemental who seemed to know what he was doing told him to just let it kill him

- It was only the first week and Minghao was already filled with so much hatred towards these people

- He realized that he was on his own and decided to take matters into his own hands

- Minghao waited until the soldiers were out for lunch before sneaking into their office and searching for anything that could possibly help him

- He eventually did find something and his tattoo was healed in less than a month

- From then on, he snuck around the soldiers’ offices and searched for anything else that could help him

- At first it was the bare necessities like soap, water bottles, and even food when he didn’t get to the dining hall in time

- But the more he was able to sneak past the soldiers, the more he took

- It went from bare necessities to anything he wanted

- He did feel guilty for stealing things that weren’t his, he was human after all, but after a day where he got ‘punished’ just for accidentally brushing past a soldier, his guilt was long gone

- He didn’t get caught for the next couple of times

- Until the eighth time, Minghao was walking into his room, not knowing that his roommate was back from dining hall

- “You’re...you’re stealing!” There was something about the older elemental’s face that just seemed...sadistic. “Oh, the soldiers are gonna love this! When they find out, you’re dead!”

- Deep down, Minghao panicked. But there was something about his roommate’s tone and smile that made his stomach churn

- So he morphed his face as threatening and scary as he could and snarled at the kid

- “Don’t you dare.”

- And with that, he walked away, the blood draining from his face as he ran back to their room

- That night, he was too relieved about the fact that the roommate didn’t come in before he fell asleep to think of the consequences

- He was woken up the next morning with the slamming of his door

- The soldiers raided his room and found all of the things that he stole

- Minghao didn’t show it, but he was terrified

- But then he saw his roommate with a smug smile standing in the doorway and the fear morphed to anger

- He glared and snarled at the water elemental as the soldiers took him away

- It was the first time that he was punished so bad but he knew for a fact that it wouldn’t be the last

- The beating he had made it hard to walk back to his room afterwards

- But he didn’t show it

- He knew that showing weakness would probably get him killed

- So it was only when he came back to his room when he let his tears slip from his eyes

- He knew his roommate wouldn’t be back for a while, so he didn’t have to worry about getting caught

- His chest was still heavy, as if he could still feel that one soldier standing on it

- It was hard to breathe and his whole body was abnormally hot

- Minghao’s heart was pounding and his entire body was trembling

- There was this impending feeling that he was going to die, even if he knew he was safer in his room

- That was his first panic attack

- He didn’t stop stealing after that

- There was just something about taking the luxuries away from the soldiers that brought some twisted form of joy to him

- The next couple of times he got punished, he went back into his room and cried

- But then it just stopped one day

- He didn’t care anymore

- Minghao’s facade eventually became his general attitude

- Of course he was still emotional and such, he wasn’t a robot, but it was rare that he ever showed it in public

- Especially when the kids started making fun of him

- Minghao was completely aware of the rumors that sparked about him

- Some of them did hurt, but he still never showed it

- Though, there were times that it was so frustrating how obvious they were being

- So one day in the dining hall

- A group of kids were basically following him, talking about how he ‘probably killed someone before he got to the facility’

- Though, the main one talking was his roommate, who tried using the fact that they lived together to spread some lies

- Annoyed, Minghao whirled on him, waving his arm and swiping a flame at the boy

- Minghao originally intended for the flame to wave inches in front of the boy’s face, but it hit him instead

- Minghao wasn’t sure if it was because he miscalculated or if he was just that angry

- But the boy let out a screech and held onto his face as he fell to the floor

- Minghao felt bad, he really did, but he was frozen in his spot, not knowing exactly what to do

- Though to the rest of the kids, he just looked like he was watching the boy writhing in pain

- It didn’t really help that his resting face looked like he was glaring at the kid

- Minghao was punished worse than ever before that day

- After that, every day was different

- Minghao would find something new to steal and sometimes got caught

- There were some days that he was just bored and decided to mess with the soldiers

- He knew that he was going to get punished anyways, so why not do something fun out of it?

- Rumors still spread and Minghao decided to just embrace it

- He discovered that he got a new nickname; ‘The8′

- It was made by the gossips, wanting to make fun of Minghao for getting caught ‘The 8th’ time of stealing

- But Minghao honestly thought it had a nice ring to it

- So eventually the nickname lost meaning and just became a regular nickname

- No one talked to Minghao for a while, and he was honestly fine with that

- Until he got a new roommate

- It was near twilight when a boy around Minghao’s age, maybe a year or two older, was shoved into his room

- Minghao was sitting on his bed with a book in hand, only looking up slightly at the new boy

- Minghao took one glance at the boy’s blue uniform and his heart raced

- With his experience with water elementals, he wasn’t so sure if he should trust them

- He was about to snarl something when he heard the boy his and grab onto his leg

- Just on his ankle, Minghao saw the tattoo for a water elemental

- Remembering what happened to him with his tattoo, he spoke up despite his need to keep up his ice cold appearance

- “You’re gonna want to wrap that up or it’ll get infected.”

- When the boy glanced at Minghao, he quickly looked back to his book, an indifferent expression on his face

- Though, Minghao felt the boy’s heavy gaze on him, making him look back up

- There was something about the boy’s innocent and scared look that tugged on Minghao’s heartstrings, but he didn’t want to show vulnerability

- So instead he scoffed and reached into his drawer, rummaging through the different medical supplies he stole just in case

- He tossed a piece of cloth towards the boy, feeling slightly bad that he didn’t have anything else to give

- But the boy gratefully took it and sat on the empty bed on the other side of the small room

- As the boy wrapped his ankle, Minghao returned his gaze to his book, but none of the words on the page seemed to stay in his mind

- Instead Minghao was fighting the urge to take another look at the boy

- The boy just had this energy around him that was drawing Minghao to him...

- “I’m Junhui. But you can call me Jun,” The boy said, snapping Minghao out of his thoughts

- He still fought the urge to look up, trying to seem like he didn’t care

- “That’s good for you,” Minghao brushed off

- “Well, what’s your name?”

- He turned to look at the boy, Jun, and glared at him

- He didn’t know why it felt so strange to act so cold and rude to this boy, it wasn’t any different than anyone else

- Maybe part of Minghao thought that with a new boy, he’d be able to have a fresh start

- But the other part of Minghao told him that once the boy met the gossips, he would think of him just as everyone else did

- So he couldn’t get attached

- “Look, I don’t know how long you’re going to be in here and I don’t really care. Just because we’re roommates right now does not mean we’re friends. Just stay out of my way.”

- Minghao stood up and left the room

- Partially because he was hungry, partially because it would have been awkward

- and partially for dramatic effect

- But when he came back, his new roommate was laying on his bed, under the covers that Minghao can’t quite recall was ever washed

- Minghao didn’t say anything to the boy

- He just watched him from afar, understanding the transitioning phase that the boy was going through since he was probably just caught

- Minghao, feeling slightly concerned, stole extra bread and fruit to give to Jun since he didn’t seem to be getting up

- it would be bad for his track record if a roommate of his died

- Eventually, one day when Minghao made his way back to his room from a day of stealing, he saw that Jun was gone

- A small smile tugged at his lips as he sat back down on his bed, doing a crossword from the puzzle book he found

- But when Jun came back in, his eyes widened when he saw Minghao

- Then immediately, his gaze fell to the floor, making Minghao’s heart sink

- Of course Jun would hear the rumors after going out...it was inevitable.

- Jun didn’t try to talk to Minghao again and so Minghao went on with his normal life

- After a week and a half passed, Minghao made his way to the kitchens to try and steal some extra bread

- But, when he made his way towards the entrance, he was immediately met with a group of elementals led by his old roommate, who’s face was a little more charred than Minghao remembered

- “Where do you think you’re going?”

- Minghao looked at the boy and let out a scoff despite the feeling of guilt that was shooting through his chest

- “Get out of my way,” Minghao snarled, walking through the group

- “Oooh,” The boys all chorused

- “Tough guy, aren’t you?” One of them heckled

- “Well of course he is, you have to be tough to burn your family down!” Minghao’s ex roommate called after him, making Minghao stop in his steps

- “Hit a weak spot did I?”

- “It takes a real psycho to kill their own family, right? What a disgrace.”

- Minghao’s chest was heavy

- His mouth was open, he was breathing, but it felt like no oxygen was getting to his lungs

- “Aw is he crying?”

- Minghao’s pride got over the drowning feeling he was feeling and he turned to glare at the group

- “I suggest you leave before you get more than just that scar.”

- The roommate turned pale white and the group immediately turned and ran

- Right when they were out of sight, Minghao sprinted toward his room, heart pounding

- Once he shut himself in his room, Minghao climbed into the corner of his bed like he had so many times

- He dug his hands into his hair, tugging at the strands to try and hold onto something to keep himself from completely breaking

- “Make it stop,” Minghao muttered to himself between choked sobs

- It was too loud

- Minghao moved his hands over his ears to block out all the little noises that sounded

- The walls were closing in from around him and his eyes darted all over the place

- And of course, that just had to be the moment that his roommate walked in

- “What’s wro-”

- “Go away!” Minghao snapped in a strained voice, trying to cover his crying face

- Just as Minghao expected Jun to laugh at him and run out to tell everyone, he slowly walked towards him and sat next to him on the bed

- Minghao didn’t do anything when Jun wrapped his arms around his body, holding him tightly

- The pressure from Jun’s arms and the warmth of his body started to ground Minghao

- His breathing slowly started to even out and that impending feeling of danger was slowly going away

- Minghao started to feel...safe and comforted in a way

- After a while, Minghao was almost completely calmed down, but Jun’s arms didn’t move

- So Minghao pushed them away, immediately regretting it when he missed the feeling of being so close to someone

- “Th-thanks,” Minghao said, filling the awkward air

- “Are you okay now?” Jun asked, having Minghao nod and avert his gaze to his hands

- Minghao heard Jun shift on the bed so that he was sitting in front of him

- Peeking up at the boy, Minghao swallowed back his nerves and looking back down

- “I’m Minghao.”

- Minghao looked up through his eyelashes, ready for any form of mockery or laughter in which he would state ‘no, you’re name’s The8′

- But instead, Jun smiled

- Someone actually smiled at Minghao

- And not because he fell or something like that

- “It’s nice to meet you, Minghao.”

- Despite being so drained and tired, Minghao felt his heart speed up

- He hadn’t heard someone else call his name in such a long time

- And with such a nice voice too...

- “Everyone calls me The8, though,” Minghao added, just in case

- “So I’ve heard.”

- After that day, Minghao considered Jun a friend

- For a while, they would never be seen together outside of their room

- minghao didn’t want people to start making fun of Jun too

- But eventually Jun started tagging along whenever Minghao went to steal something or to just mess with the soldiers

- And before he knew it, Minghao had a new partner in crime

- Being with Jun made everything 10 times more fun

- Minghao would find himself giggling and giving away their location because of something Jun did or said

- But then Minghao would take the blame, knowing full well that Jun probably couldn’t handle so many beatings

- Though there were times where Jun took the blame, and Minghao felt so bad about it that he went out to find anything that Jun liked

- The more Minghao got to know Jun, the more he felt a sense of responsiblity

- Jun was older than him by a year, but he still acted like a little kid

- So Minghao found himself acting like a responsible adult taking care of a toddler most of the time

- The two of them learned to understand each other and over time, rubbed off on each other

- Jun started to get just a bit more responsible and Minghao got a little more careless

- One example of that was on one of their heists together

- They had ate lunch together in their room, but both agreed that it was a little bland and missing something

- So Minghao revealed that he knew of a room only accessible to soldiers, deep in the kitchen, with a big bottle of hot sauce and spices and more condiments

- So of course, the two of them just had to go looking for it

- The room was generally unguarded once they got into the kitchen, so the two waited until the soldiers were switching shifts to run in

- They easily got into the room, looking around with starry eyes

- Jun immediately ran to one of the shelves, searching through the different snacks that were neatly piled

- Minghao was still looking around in awe

- “Hao Hao!” Jun called, making Minghao snap his head towards the boy

- minghao never wanted to admit how his heart leapt every time Jun used his nickname for him

- “We hit the motherload!”

- Minghao walked up to where Jun was standing and awed about all of the different snacks and fruits and candies that they found

- The two of them started branching out, searching for any small things they could fit in their pockets or even hold without drawing attention

- Minghao decided it would cover more ground if they each searched a separate side, so they stood across the room from each other with their backs turned

- It was silent for the most part as they searched

- Until Minghao found something he hadn’t seen in a long time

- A bottle of water

- Minghao turned around to tell Jun, but immediately closed his mouth when he saw how unsuspecting the boy looked

- With a mischievous grin, Minghao opened the bottle and started tiptoeing closer

- “Jun!” He shouted when he was right behind the boy

- The moment Jun turned around to face Minghao, he threw the water forward, smiling as it splashed all over his face

- With the ‘done’ look Jun had, Minghao couldn’t help but giggle

- Jun wiped the water with the collar of his shirt and gave Minghao an eye roll despite having a smile on his face

- “Be quiet will you? We don’t wanna get caught.”

- Minghao pouted a little turning to head back to his side of the room, only to feel some sort of liquid squirting on his back

- When he turned on instinct, he saw Jun holding a bottle of mustard, a bright smile on his face

- “Oh, you’re on”

- The next couple of event went by in a flash

- Minghao managed to grab a bottle of ketchup and mayonnaise and squirted it all over Jun

- And Jun wielded his mustard and grabbed for a hot sauce bottle

- But as Minghao sprayed him, Jun realized he couldn’t open his hot sauce bottle

- “Time out!” He exclaimed, setting his mustard down and trying to open the bottle

- But Minghao, so caught up in the moment, ran forward and squirted a glob of ketchup into Jun’s hair

- “Hao Hao!” Jun giggled, wriggling at the cold sensation and accidentally dumping the hot sauce all over his hands

- The two of them started laughing as Minghao backed away to find something else to throw or spray

- But just as he started to look, the door opened

- Minghao’s face fell when he saw a soldier standing in the doorway, a furious look on his face

- When he glanced at Jun, he saw his friend fighting back a snicker as he stood with his hands out, covered in hot sauce

- The soldier grabbed both Minghao and Jun by the collar of their shirt and threw them inside the transport car that drove around the grounds and got soldiers from place to place

- This time, they were on the way to the punishment rooms

- The ride was quiet at first

- A little too quiet for Minghao’s liking

- So he looked at Jun, searching for something to say

- Minghao cleared his throat.

- “Did you know your phalanges are covered in hot sauce?”

- Jun let out a snort and started laughing so loud that Minghao couldn’t help but laugh with him

- The rest of the ride was filled with dumb laughter that brought tears to their eyes.

- They had so many more adventures together

- But one morning

- After a night of talking, where they both revealed their background, they both nearly passed out from exhaustion

- Minghao wan only awoken by a gloved hand clamping over his mouth

- Minghao immediately started thrashing around as three more of them held onto each of his limbs

- He thought about using his fire, but with his breathing constricted and his arms and feet restrained, it would easily get out of control and could even burn Jun

- So instead, he settled for kicking and trying to tug his hands out of their holds

- But they were too strong

- Next thing Minghao knew, he was tossed into the back of a transport truck that he remembered being in the very fist time he got to the facility

- Instead of throwing a tantrum like he had done that day, he ran to the small opening on the back doors, looking at the facility as it got farther and farther

- a part of him was hoping for one last glance at Jun

- He didn’t freak out like he did last time, he knew it was useless

- So he kept quiet the entire ride, sitting and leaning his head against the side, closing his eyes and thinking of no one in particular.

- When the truck stopped, Minghao brought himself back to reality and complied with whatever the soldiers told him to do

- He went through their tests, answered any questions they had, and stayed silent when they started lecturing him about how ‘Facility K will break him’

- The soldiers then threw him into a crowded cell, where he silently walked to the back corner, a venomous scowl on his face

- He plopped down on the bed, having the previous occupant scurry away

- For the rest of that morning, he laid there, staring up at the ceiling

- As the day went by, Minghao learned the hard way that it was nothing like Facility C

- They were forced to work miscellaneous jobs (mainly cooking which he had to learn by watching the others) and security was a lot tighter

- And there was a wide variety of different kinds of affected that he had never seen before

- Including this one ‘sun’ that seemed to look over them every now and then

- Minghao didn’t want to talk to anyone

- There was no one that could understand him like Jun could

- And the connection they built took years, so there was no way he could just start over

- So he stayed silent and watched everyone

- He watched the older kids mark down the days since they’ve been in the facility

- He watched the younger kids still filled with energy, running around with each other in hopes of keeping their youth

- But the main thing he watched was this one poor earth elemental who was constantly picked on by a group of older ones

- Minghao didn’t want to get involved or do anything, it just meant the kid would probably flock to him

- So he just watched

- He did feel bad for the kid, but the most he did was trip the ‘leader’ of the group on their way to work

- The group turned to glare at Minghao, only to meet his murderous eyes

- Immediately, they scurried away and Minghao smirked to himself

- Since then, he had the same reputation as he did before Jun

- And of course rumors managed to follow him and within a month, everyone was talking about how he set his family on fire

- He had gotten so immune to the talk about him nowadays that he was just amused by the rumors

- Some said that his family were his slaves and that he set them on fire because they got his drink wrong

- Others said that he was just so bored that he needed some excitement

- Either way, people avoided him and he didn’t have to talk to anyone

- His life was no longer unpredictable

- It was all routine

- He woke up, watched the earth elemental getting thrown around, went to work in the kitchens usually, then ate his nasty food, went back to work, and came back to the cell and went to sleep

- Life was simple and boring

- And not a day went by where he didn’t think of Jun

- He seemed to see him everywhere

- ‘Jun would like this soup’

- ‘Jun would joke about how stupid this all is’

- ‘Jun would hate it here but he’d say something like ‘as long as I’m with you, Hao Hao, it’s the best place I can think of.’’

- One day, when he was in the kitchen

- His thoughts of Jun was so overwhelming that he could even hear the boy call out his name

- “Hao Hao.”

- No...the voice was too clear to be in his head

- Minghao snapped his head up and looked around

- His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he Jun, looking exactly the same with his bright smile, running over to wrap his arms around his body

- Minghao was frozen for a second, looking around at all the other fire elementals in the kitchen staring at them with wide eyes and the sun who was suddenly very interested in the ceiling design

- “I finally found you, Hao Hao.” Jun cheered, only for Minghao to let out a small scoff

- He wrapped his arms around Jun and felt himself melt into the older boy’s arms

- When they pulled away from each other, Minghao tried to fight the urge to smile

- “When did you get here?”

- “Just a couple of weeks ago. You didn’t think I’d come for you did you? Hm? Hm?”

- Minghao rolled his eyes, “ I didn’t think you’d be able to do anything bad enough to end up here.”

- “Well I did,” Jun said before perking up, “now come on, I made friends. Lemme introduce you to them!”

- Minghao scowled, “no thanks.”

- But knowing Jun, it was useless

- Jun grabbed Minghao’s wrist and pulled him out of the kitchen

- Minghao sent a glance back, but the sun made no move to chase after him

- Dreading the new people he would actually have to talk to, Minghao sulked the entire time as Jun skipped

- “Guys!” Jun said, stopping in front of a group of elementals

- Looking over at them, Minghao immediately recognized the little earth elemental from his cell

- “This is Minghao, my very best friend in the whole wide world!”

- At his words, Minghao rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that stretched on his lips

- “Call me The8.”

- Minghao was quick to realize that the group had heard of him before

- They knew of all the stories and adventures Jun and Minghao had together in Facility C

- though some of the stories they retold were a little more exaggerated than Minghao remembered

- Despite all the time he spent without talking to anyone, he was kind of excited to make new friends

- though he would never admit it

- Minghao developed little bonds with each of them

- He got close with Vernon, an air elemental, just by understanding each other’s need for peace and quiet every now and then

- He bickered with Mingyu, a water elemental, whenever he was talking about something ridiculous

- He looked after Dino, the little earth elemental, and even started to confront the bullies without him knowing

- needless to say, it just took one little burn for the bullies to stop

- And Minghao even started making friends with the healer that Mingyu brought over named Wonwoo

- He and Jun got closer than ever before, but it wasn’t just the two of them anymore

- It was the six of them against the world

- And it all expanded when they broke out of the facility

- It took a little longer to get Mingyu out, but once he was, their six turned into thirteen

- And next thing he knew, Minghao had a whole clan of people who knew him and respected him and maybe even loved him

- Minghao wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

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