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soubi122 · 11 months

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How Long? PT 8 - Finale

All, this was a rollercoaster of emotions - thank you so much for your support and patience with this series.

WARNINGS: Manipulation, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy, fear, angst, anxiety, suggestive, mentions of death/murder, cheating, overall toxic behavior, destructive behavior, smut, fluff- if I missed anything in the warnings I'm sorry!

Homecoming

Arriving back home, you began to plan out your revenge. How could you make him hurt as much as he’s hurt you? Could you risk setting up one of his little sidechicks to clash with his pregnant mistress and make everything come crashing down. He had plenty to choose from. Like vultures they came in to see what scraps they could get after your death. It would be risky and you would need to ask Mikey for permission, with you being back in Tokyo - your life was no longer yours.

The sound of his phone vibrating only made you even more annoyed. You were so close to smashing it against a wall but you stopped yourself, you couldn’t destroy your evidence. Without a moment to spare, you began to print his messages, pictures included. Ugh, it made you sick to your stomach having to read these things again. Seeing all the women he was messing with and worst of all - the bullshit ‘I love yous’ that he would say. I love you. Those words meant nothing to him, he oh so casually threw them around to these women. It was like throwing bread crumbs to pigeons. They were eating that shit up and not even second guessing it.

After about an hour of printing, taping papers to the wall and making a mess out of Mikey's living room - you decided to take a break. Sprawled out on the floor, you remained quiet and stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity. Your vision began to get blurry and the throbbing in your chest wouldn't cease. It got worse and worse with each passing second, you ended up curling up on the floor and crying your little heart out. Even though you already made up your mind, it was still hard to get over it. The betrayal, the lies, the pain, everything… It was hitting you all at once. Ran always found a way to break you. The echoes of your cries reached Mikey as he walked through the doorway. Without hesitation he bolted to where you were. “Angel? What hap…pened?” He paused and looked around his living room. The explicit content made him feel sick. Turning to look at you on the floor, he reached over to pick you up and cradled you in his arms. Your sobs and hiccups made a pang in his chest. He hated seeing you like this, you didn't deserve any of this.

Softly speaking and leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead, Mikey asked you to explain. After spilling your heart out to him, he embraced you tighter and apologized to you. He should have stayed with you last night but already warned you not to leave the house again. “Manjiro…I feel like I never really knew him.” You cry and bury yourself in his chest. All his bullshit ended up swallowing you whole. “I don’t know who I fell in love with….” You say softly into his chest. The poison honied tone could have made Mikey set the world on fire for you. “We’ll figure this out.” He says softly and places a kiss on your forehead. A simple well placed hand on your belly made Manjiro bite the inside of his cheek, this gesture - did you really want…one? Would you want one with him or was this a breaking point for you?

*meanwhile*

Ran and the others continued their plans on how to contain the hellfire that was unleashed amongst Bonten. The master of keeping tabs of everyone (Sanzu), was able to track down every single person who the pregnant woman was in touch with. Kokonoi traced all call records and texts between the woman and her contacts - all her information was at their fingertips. “Remember, this needs to be a covert operation.” Kakucho said before they began hunting down all of her contacts. Needless to say, Ran was in charge of silencing his mistress.

On the way home, Ran’s hands began to tremble - he was letting this get the better of him. The thoughts racing inside his head were making it difficult to focus on the road ahead. His car’s center console alerted him of an incoming phone call. It made his stomach drop, speak of the devil. He thought to himself when he read the caller ID. Picking up the call and answering with a dry Hello, he waited for her squeaky little voice to say babe. It was silent, he got a little irritated and was about to call out again but the sound of someone breathing heavily and sniffles made his ears perk up. “(M/N)? Oi?! Can you hear me?” He yelled and pulled over to the side of the highway. “Ran… come home - now!” Her voice was full of panic and fear. “Shit… I'm almost there.” He said and sped down the highway. Ran couldn’t afford to have her think he didn’t care about her, not when she held so much leverage against him. But what could have her all shaken up?

When he finally made it home, he was surprised to see his pregnant mistress standing by the doorway. She had tears in her eyes and the moment she saw him, she threw herself into his arms, crying and stuttering over her words. “W-who could have d-done this?” She cried and clung to him. Ran’s head turned to look through the doorway and his stomach dropped. His home was a disaster. Broken glass, torn papers, clothes and various items scattered everywhere. Was there really someone stupid enough to try and rob/trash the home of a Bonten executive? To make matters worse, what if your pregnant mistress was there at the time this took place? They would have jeopardized his plan to silence her. “Stay here.” He instructed her and walked inside. Everything was in disarray, there was no place in his home that wasn’t fucked with. Walking inside his bedroom, he saw that all his belongings were either broken or torn. What really set him off was seeing his picture frame shattered - the proposal photo of you and him was shredded. He felt his blood boil. Something caught his eye, his baton was on the floor amongst the destroyed belongings. This was personal, this was done by someone who knew of where his momentous were hidden. There were only three people in the world that knew where he kept that thing. You, Rindou and his pregnant mistress. There was no way it was Rindou as he was with Ran the entire time, it sure as hell couldn’t have been you as you were taken by Mikey and were to remain hidden until all this blows over. The only person was…her.

To make matters worse, she was always jealous of you and begged him to get rid of your photo - she couldn’t stand the sight of it. Jealousy on a woman was always an ugly thing to him. Even if he was the cause of it. Funny how he finds jealousy appalling and yet he had the gull to come at you like that back home. Ripping up the photo seemed like something she would do. Could it have been possible that she found out about your return? Rumors could have spread the moment Ran departed for Wakkanai. She always kept tabs with the underlings, so hearing that Ran disappeared after a mysterious revelation - it wouldn’t surprise him that she knew. All fingers pointed in her direction. Walking out of his penthouse, he kept a calm demeanor and only consoled his mistress. She was genuinely terrified but all he could see was red. Playing the victim and pretending to be innocent, it suited her. “Ran, could someone be after our baby?” She cried pathetically, in his eyes. “No, no sweetheart - unless, you told everyone already about it?” He said in a low sweet tone, the number one rule in the underground was to keep your family affairs out of the picture. She stuttered and cried even louder. “I’m so sorry, I told a few friends! I was so excited and happy to become a mother.” She blurts out and pouts. They both knew that she fucked up, it puts not only the baby at risk but it also puts Ran at risk.

“Let’s go back to the office, you’ll be safe there…” He said and pulled her in close, the fake affections were so perfect that she didn’t suspect the real danger she was in. He was trying his hardest not to choke the life out of her. The poor girl has no idea that the devil has other plans for her.

Bringing her back to the office, he sat her down and was being sweet to her. Coddling her and comforting her, trying to ease her worries. He felt disgusted with himself. (oh how the tables have turned) Dealing with a pregnant woman was overwhelming for him, especially when it wasn’t someone he loved. With a seductive pout, she asked Ran for a kiss - he gave it to her. It tasted bitter to him as he closed his eyes. The lips he’s kissed often now felt foreign, they felt like sandpaper against his and he compared her to you. Thinking about how your lips were soft and plush, your sweet taste and the sound of your voice. You were everything to him, you controlled his heart and had a hold on him like no other - Ran lost himself in you and ended up deepening the kiss with his mistress. She wrapped her arms around his neck and proceeded to return his misguided affection. He put his hand against her belly and caressed it, remembering you on the airplane holding that child - it made his chest hurt. He wanted nothing more than for you to carry his child. To make him a father and give him a new reason to live. With a breathy moan, Ran spoke without thinking - “Fuck… I love you so much.” This made his mistress elated, “I love you too, Ran.” This continued for several minutes until Rindou walked through his office door, “What the hell happened?” It made Ran snap out of his delusion and realize who was in front of him. He felt his heart drop. He slowly pulled away from her, making it almost seem as if he’s saddened to go. The moment he walked out the door, he made a beeline towards the men’s bathroom and rinsed his mouth. Rindou trailed behind him and tore him a new one.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He shoved Ran and pinned him against the wall by his collar. For Rindou to go against his elder brother, it was some serious shit. “Get your shit together and make your fucking choice!” He almost snarled at Ran. The younger Haitani couldn’t stand to see Ran in this pathetic state, he could see cracks in his brother's face and only prayed that he wouldn’t crumble. The realization of his actions hit Ran like a truck, he told her he loved her. He shared emotions meant for someone else. Rindou released his brother and told him to take a few minutes to breathe and focus on eliminating the current problem. Ran felt like vomiting, anguish was eating away at him and he couldn't hold it in. Confusion plagued his mind and didn’t know left from right. He proceeded to throw up and wished you were here to assuage him. He was losing his mind.

“Did anyone say anything when I left Tokyo?” Ran asked his brother, he was pensive. He needed to formulate some sort of plan before walking back into the office. The last thing he wanted was for his mistress to catch wind of the real reason as to why she was brought to headquarters. Rindou gave him the rundown of everything that happened while he was gone. Rumors were quick to spread but only the main 8 knew the actual truth of you being alive, Mikey was quick to apprehend those who were linked to the underling that brought Ran your photo. The one thing that they were able to confirm was that the underling was not alone when he came across your photo. Whether or not it was too late to confirm how much information was leaked, no one knew. Ran needed to be on his toes around his mistress.

After about fifteen minutes, he straightened up and headed back to his office. "Baby, is everything ok?" She asked him and was about to stand up but he stuck his hand out and gestured for her to remain seated. “Who did you tell exactly and who knows that you've been staying at my place? We need to know to make sure that you and the baby will be safe.” Ran's words were laced with concern and had a hint of warmth in them. Maybe with enough sweetness she'll fess up about the incident at his apartment. “Please…” Oh how his honeyed tone of voice makes all the women fall. Even you at some point. At first she was hesitant about speaking, she didn’t want him to kill her friends and back ups. She fiddled with her hands and pouted as she remained silent and kept her head down. “Is there something you’re hiding from me?” His tone was a little cold and she immediately raised her head in a panic. The look on her face reflected nothing but fear. Maybe she said something more about the pregnancy, something that he has yet to find out. “You know the type of enemies we have. Do you want them to kill our baby?” He asked in a low tone.

She began to squirm in her seat and sniffle, bingo… It was her turn to talk. “Ran, I swear I didn’t mean it. I just didn’t want you to deny our baby!” He didn’t flinch, he knew he was right about her and the incident involving his home. “Explain. Now…” His mistress cracked like an egg and began to explain to him about her potential blackmailing. Yes, she found out about his trip to Wakkanai and why. Her jealousy took it too far and she didn’t want her place to be taken again. “I didn’t think that anyone would betray me like this! I was scared you’d leave me. You’d leave me for a woman who looks like (Y/N)...I know you would.” With every word she spewed, Ran was feeling his fingers twitch, how could she be this stupid? The consequences of jeopardizing a Bonten member are dire - death would have been dealt by his own hands. “I’m begging you, please - stay with me. I will do better. I won’t be able to replace her, I know that but please… give our baby a chance.” His mistress was holding her belly and on her knees at this point, begging him to stay with her. It made Ran sick.

He had no choice but to keep her close to him, though he could not overlook her destroying his home - he needed to pretend that he accepts her and the baby. “I’ll get us a new place to stay for now - you will need to remain there and do not leave that apartment no matter what. You painted a target on your back by announcing your pregnancy. You cannot trust anyone, do you understand?” Ran signed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Making the arrangements should have been simple but he had a lot to try and salvage from his home.

He cleared this decision with Kokonoi, no one else was to know of her location. By the end of the night, he had already sent his mistress to the new apartment and got some of her things settled there. She was foolish enough to surrender her two phones to Ran in place of a new one that only had Bonten’s contact information on it. She pretty much sent her friends to an early grave - they were being executed for the right and wrong reasons. She had no idea of what Ran was really accusing her of.

By the end of the next day, Ran had already cleared out his penthouse with the help of a cleanup crew and was still as blind as ever. He didn't notice his extra mobile device missing, either that or he figured that she destroyed it and it got tossed with the rest of his now useless belongings. The plan proceeded in full force, the hunt was on for all her contacts and Ran continued his act. Multiple calls were made to him about the incident at his apartment. Though the rest of the group was against shielding his mistress, they understood that it needed to be done until they eliminated all threats. “I understand, please - just don’t mention any of this to (Y/N).” Ran said over the phone as he stood in his empty penthouse. Memories of his past flooded his head… Seeing you dance across the kitchen as you cooked or when you cleaned, he wanted it back. Your sweet smile was all he used to look forward to when coming home. Now, he can't even look at you without feeling guilty about everything he's done. “I don't know how long you'll be able to keep her in the dark… But she will find out and when he does - you'll lose her.” Takeomi lectured Ran. Though he didn’t need to be reminded, he accepted Takeomi’s advice.

Several days later, Bonten had already rounded up more than half of the mistress's contacts that knew about her pregnancy. The pile of corpses only made them much more fearsome than the authorities could handle. Under the guise of 'for our baby' excuse, Ran tried to keep her disconnected from the world. He didn't allow her to call anyone, message anyone or even reach out to anyone on social media. All her phone activity was monitored and any attempt to reach out to anyone other than Ran was alerted to Bonten headquarters. His mistress was getting restless from staying in the one bedroom apartment that Ran rarely visited. When he did visit, it was only for an hour or two, it was the obligatory check-in. When he noticed her disappointment, he would bring her flowers or snacks to try and keep her as complacent as possible. His mind was so focused on her that he felt as if he was forgetting something.

“Ran, can we go out somewhere, please?” She pouted and wrapped her arms around him. Her belly was starting to get in the way of her pressing her whole body against him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea-” He began to respond but was cut off by her pouting even more and burying herself into his chest. “I feel like I’m going insane in this apartment.” Ran knew he had to keep her happy until the final contact was tracked down. With a heavy sigh, he agreed and let her decide where she wanted to go. She wanted something sweet and they decided to visit a crepe shop. That was the only thing she shared with you, your sweet tooth.

*back at Mikey’s*

“Angel, he thinks his mistress was the one who trashed his home. You’re kind of off the hook…” Mikey says and gives you a pat on the head as you remain seated on the couch. You smiled softly, but there was emptiness in your eyes. You wanted to go home already, you missed your cozy home, your cafe and the cool ocean air nipping at your cheeks in the morning. “Are you going to tell him that you know?” Mikey asked, snapping you out of your daze. You felt heat creep up your cheeks, you were angry, embarrassed and hurt. Overhearing about Ran hiding his mistress and giving her an apartment, you expected nothing and yet you were still disappointed with him. He hadn’t checked in with you since that day you left the office. Ran completely forgot about you, he didn't even bother using Mikey as a messenger between the two of you.

The days spent at Mikey’s you either slept on the couch or in his bed. Manjiro would come home and carry you to bed if you were asleep on the couch. He'd take any opportunity to get close to you without making it too obvious. However, your little loungewear had him palming himself at night or locking himself away in another room, quietly relieving his tension. It felt like old times again but he refused to do anything that could make you uncomfortable. Sometimes all you need is a single spark to set plans in motion. If all goes the way it’s supposed to, he might not have a chance to tell you how he really feels.

With a light kiss on your forehead, Mikey prepared to leave for the office and stood up. Kokonoi needed him to sign off on a few things and also review the ongoing situation with Ran. “Can I count on you to be here before midnight?” You ask and look up at him, your cute little doe eyes made Mikey almost lose his composure. How could an innocent gesture make his member throb and twitch? This angle looked rather lewd in his eyes. He felt his heart rate spike and his mouth was salivating. All he needed was to picture his cock in your mouth and - “Mikey?” You say his name and he comes back to reality. There was an intense look in his eyes. “Hmm? Yes?” He responds with a bit of shyness. “Is there something wrong?” Shaking his head no, he swipes his thumb on your lower lip and begins to head out the door. He left you dumbfounded and your heart skipped a beat. That look in his eyes was similar to that night, only this time you are sober to see through it and understand his hunger.

A few hours after his leave, you began to get restless and peckish. Mikey didn’t really have a lot of food at home and you haven’t left his place since - you had no choice but to step out. Easily, you can order takeout but with the cloud looming over your head, you wanted to see if a walk could make it go away. Taking precautions as always, you wore Mikey’s baggy clothes, a face mask and a hoodie. The hood was over your head and helped cover your eyes, making it harder for people to see your face. I know I promised to stay inside but I feel like I’m losing my mind. It’s just like the first time. You think to yourself and walk out the door. Taking the longest and most relaxing walk down the streets, your mind started to feel at ease. Stopping by a small crepe shop, you ordered a snack and made your way to a park that had a beautiful pond in the center. It was the Shibuya botanical garden, there was no better place to come and relax, especially by the pond. It’s not the ocean but it’s still a beautiful view. Very few people were here during the weekday, it made it so much easier to just take in the sights and light earthy scent.

The soft cool breeze had you inhaling deeply and exhaling in bliss. Your head almost felt fuzzy, it was serene and almost quiet. Closing your eyes, you lean back into the bench and just let go of your worries. Soon this would all be over, you could go home and go back to the life you left behind. You wanted nothing more than to sink your teeth into a sandwich and a hot cappuccino, your cafe’s pastries also crossed your mind and you felt homesick. Everything started to look rather clear, that is until - “Ran, look at this! It’s beautiful.” The familiar voice pierced your ears, you opened your eyes and sat up immediately. The voice was distant but close enough for you to hear, your eyes were darting around behind you and your heart began to pound inside your chest. You were praying that it was just your imagination. Soon the voice spoke again, “Look! It’s a family of ducks, they have a baby - just like we will soon.” Her tone was warm and full of love, she was happy. Turning to your left, you saw what you wished you didn’t. It was Ran and his pregnant mistress - they were at a distance but you recognized those purple strands anywhere. They were a few benches away from you.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. His right arm was wrapped around her and his left hand was caressing her belly. The sweet smiles on their faces felt like a slap to the face. Their conversation carried on as if the world revolved around them and there was no one else there. Try as you might, you couldn’t hold back the tears that stung your eyes. You were preparing to leave him, yes but you never imagined seeing him with her. Not like this, not like a beautiful loving couple expecting their first child. The fire burning inside your chest only made it hurt even more, it felt like he took a knife and stabbed you with it. You overhear him say, “I’m sure our baby will be just as beautiful.” He says and cups her face, bringing her into a tender kiss, making her back face you. He looked genuinely content and his body language suggested he made his decision. He was going to keep his mistress and the baby at his side. When he pulled away, he said something - something that plunged the knife even further into your chest. I love you. You didn’t have to hear it to know, the way his lips mouthed those words…it was as clear as day.

Keeping your hood on, you removed the face mask so that your face could be seen. You wanted him to notice you. Standing up to walk in his direction, you looked straight at him and waited for your eyes to connect. Too lost in his own little charade, he didn’t notice you until it was too late, when he looked up - he froze. You just passed them and continued walking, the look in your eyes made him feel fear for the first time in his life. It was intense and it looked like everything was happening in slow motion. He felt a lump in his throat and his pulse quickened. He looked visibly distraught. “Ran? What’s wrong?” His mistress said and cupped his cheek. He felt his world tip on its axis and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. There was no mending the threads that unraveled.

His next move made your blood boil even more, he snatched your wrist and yanked it towards him. “Baby, wait!” His mistress was caught off guard with his actions, who the fuck was he calling baby? When she leaned to the side to see who he was talking to, her expression dropped - it’s as if she saw a ghost. “Y-you… you’re alive?” She stuttered and held her belly in a protective manner. Your eyes never left Ran, the fire in them was smoldering him and he had nowhere to hide from it. “T-This isn’t what you think!” The loud sound of a smack made his mistress flinch. “Fuck you Haitani…” You spat and pulled away from him. Twice he’s felt the sting of your hand and it never got any easier. “He’s all yours…congratulations.” You say coldly and turn to leave. Behind you, you could hear him taking a step forward only to stop when his mistress screams his name.

He was caught between a rock and a hard place. If he leaves now, she will not hesitate to make calls or scream out for help and draw attention. Bonten was also on the line. If he stays, he loses you forever. The pain in his chest only made it harder as you continued to walk away. He never thought…well that’s the thing - he never thinks. He didn’t think he was going to get caught, not after being so close to rounding up all his mistresses contacts. He would have gotten rid of her and had you in his arms. A Haitani always gets what he wants but this time the gods put a stop to their reign of ignorance. Clenching his fists, he turns his back on you. He made the hardest choice in his life, a choice that severed your ties for good.

Immediately heading back to Mikey’s place, you packed up what you could and booked the first flight back home to Wakkanai. There were no second thoughts and you couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t know if it was heartbreak or disappointment. You thanked the undergods that you were able to book the last flight of the day. The flight leaves in 5 hours, it was enough time to make it to the airport and through check out. You could feel your hands shaking as you made your way out the door and into a cab, the driver looked rather concerned. “Are you alright?” His soft tone made you bite back tears. “Oh, yes. It just feels bittersweet to go home.” You say and smile, trying to hide the maelstrom of emotions bubbling inside you. The ride carried on in silence. Looking out the window, you could only see those images flash in your mind. His arms around her and caressing her belly, you felt nauseous and disgusted with yourself. He made ‘love’ to you - he said he wanted a family with you when he already had started a family with another woman. Your head kept pounding and pounding, trying to massage your temples didn’t help - it felt like your skull was about to crack. “I know I’m not supposed to do this but, here. Please take this.” The driver says and hands you a small paper pouch. It was migraine medicine, the strong stuff too - this man was an angel. Taking the medication from between the slit in the divider - you thanked him and swallowed the pills.

Once at the airport - you thanked him, paid and left him a hefty tip. What he said next made you pause, “Whatever you’re going through, I wish you the best. Just know you’re not alone.” It made you think about the one person who never failed you. Manjiro. You smiled and thanked him once more before walking away.

At the counter, you present your ticket and finish the check in process. The moment you passed through airport security, you felt your phone vibrate - it was an unknown number. Ignoring it, you put your phone on airplane mode and sit in the waiting area until it’s time to board. Life really had it out for you, there were a few pregnant women or families with kids. Could it be any more obvious that life with a family would be impossible for you? After this, you didn’t want to open your heart again nor fall in love again. The taste of freedom was bitter.

Nothing echoed louder than the announcer calling out boarding numbers. It spooked you and made you jump, you were so lost in thought, that you weren’t really paying attention to your surroundings as much. You had to drown out the moms, the kids, the infants… it all made your skin crawl. Taking your place, you were grateful that you were placed all the way in the back and away from everyone. It wasn’t a full flight so your row was empty. When all lights dimmed, you laid your head back and felt your ears pop. The attendants would ask you every now and then if you needed anything as you looked dazed and your eyes were glossy. You would smile and respond softly, “Yes, I’m alright - it’s just an emotional homecoming.” It was a half truth but one that allowed you to keep the attendants from prying too much.

The two hour flight felt like an eternity. While the plane was in taxi, you removed your phone from airplane mode - it stayed quiet for a total of 45 seconds before it kept buzzing non stop. The slew notifications wouldn’t stop, you were getting messages from Mikey and unknown numbers. You didn’t have the heart to open any of the messages, not at least until you got home - breaking down in public was not something you wanted. The cab ride was quick and quiet, the people on this side of the island kept to themselves. Stepping foot inside your home, you threw yourself on the couch and broke down. At this point, you didn’t know what you were crying for anymore. Was it over Ran, was it out of frustration, self pity or just everything all together? It felt like you had no more tears left after a good thirty minutes of crying. You were screaming into the couch pillows and clutching your chest. Nothing you did made sense anymore. Should you have gone to Bonten headquarters to tell Mikey? Should you have just stayed at his place until he came back and then asked for permission to leave? Would Ran have kept you waiting until it was too late? All the questions swirled inside your head and you felt like you were drowning. Your body was having a full blown panic attack when you looked at the messages from Mikey. Words could not describe his responses. His messages were as follows:

Thursday at 1236. From Manjiro: Did you book a flight back home?! The credit card pinged a large transaction with an airline. End.

Thursday at 1246. From Manjiro: Where the hell are you? End. Thursday at 1301. From Manjiro: (Y/N), I’m begging you - pick up the damn phone. End. Thursday at 1305. From Manjiro: Angel, you need to tell me what’s going on. Please. End. Thursday at 1341. From Manjiro: I told you not to leave the house for a reason. Ran just came into the office with his pathetic heart in his hands. End. Thursday at 1403. From Manjiro: You should have come to me first… End. Thursday at 1459. From Manjiro: I know by the time you open these messages - you will probably already be home. Please, just call me when you can so that I know you’re alright. End.

Laying on that couch staring at the ceiling after your breakdown, your body felt numb. Your vision was coming in and out of focus, your hearing would fade in and out and your limbs felt like lead. Something inside you was screaming that you betrayed Manjiro. He trusted you and yet you didn’t even bother trying to confide in him. Everything was twisted and distorted in your eyes. Before you could even fade into the abyss, you heard your phone ping one more time. It was the unknown number and you didn’t even bother to open the messages - not until you looked closer at the phone number did you realize it was Ran’s phone number. The abyss swallowed you whole and you passed out on the couch - dropping the phone on the floor and could hear nothing more than your heart slowly beating.

Morning came and the slivers of sunlight slowly crawled their way through your blinds. The sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks at a distance was like a lullaby that you couldn’t help but welcome. No more cars zooming and honking, no sirens and no people. Tokyo couldn’t compare to your little treasure cove. However, the realization of having to abandon this home came crashing down on you. Now that Ran knows where you are - what’s stopping him from coming here again? Hoping into the shower, you washed up and let the hot water cleanse your skin - almost burning away Ran’s touch. When the burn became too much, you stepped out and wrapped yourself in a towel - still dazed and confused. You didn’t know what you were doing anymore. Could you even afford to start over without Manjiro’s help?

Walking into your bedroom, you stripped your bed of the sullied bedsheets. Ran’s cologne lingered in the sheets - fuck he stained anything he touched. When your bed had fresh sheets, you threw yourself face first into the mattress - his scent was gone. Reaching for your phone, you scroll to find Mikey’s name in your contacts and hesitate to call him. You were afraid of what he might say. You shut your eyes and tapped the call button and waited for him to answer. The lump in your throat was making it hard to swallow and you felt your hands tremble. It didn’t even take one ring before he picked up your call. “Angel?” His voice was as sweet as honey and you couldn’t help but feel tears prick your eyes. “Manjiro…I’m so sorry.” You sniffle and repeat your apology. “I’m sorry, I just-” He cut you off and spoke while keeping a sweet tone. “Can you explain everything to me after you open the door?” Huh? Your mind short circuited for a moment. “W-What?” You stutter your response and sit up. “I said open the door, (Y/N).” He chuckles and knocks on the door. The knock echoed in your ears and you ran to the door, swinging it open rather violently in disbelief.

Standing on the other side was Manjiro. His soft smile made your knees weak and you dropped down, still in disbelief that he was standing here. You waited for three years for him to come see you and now he’s here. Though the circumstances could be better - he was here for you. Picking you up off the floor, he pulled you in and closed the door behind him. Burying your face into his chest, you sob and clutch his jacket. Between sobs you spoke, “Tell me this isn’t a dream…you’re here.” It felt too good to be true. When he pulled away to cup your face, you could see the pain in his eyes. “You left without saying anything…” He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours. His breath fanned your lips and he dove straight into them when you hiccuped. You began to walk backwards, guiding him towards your bedroom, there was fear inside you. You wanted to make sure that he was as far away from the door as possible, you were scared he’d leave.

He made Ran’s bitter taste go away. Plush lips continued to kiss you and ease your mind. He wasn’t upset nor reprimanding you. “Manjiro, I'm so sorry.” You cry and wipe the tears from your eyes. Admitting that you were out of line was hard, you were so angry that you couldn't see past his concern. In a way he felt that you might take his visit the wrong way and say that he was taking advantage of your damaged state. But you weren’t just damaged goods, you were human, a woman that deserved the world and more. If Ran couldn’t be man enough to tell you the truth about the pregnancy and ended up hurting you more than what he already has - maybe you would close your heart and no longer let anyone in. Mikey decided to risk it at all and depart Tokyo - he didn’t care how it looked to anyone else. Sanzu already knew, there was no hiding it from him anymore. Not when Manjiro asked Kokonoi to find him the next flight to Wakkanai. He gave no explanation when asked why he’s giving chase to someone who was meant to be already dead. However, he did tear Ran a new one before he left.

You spoke and blurted out all the things that were ringing inside your head. “I flinched…I fucking flinched and he enjoyed every second seeing me squirm.” He let you continue your rant. “You must think I’m pathetic for allowing myself to falter not once, not twice but thrice.” He understood your position and also the risk you were taking when he gave the order to come back to Tokyo. However, he miscalculated Ran’s fuck up. The pregnancy threw everyone for a loop. “Leaving him was the best thing you could have done.” He tries to reassure you. No, Ran left you for a second time. He let you go, all you did was sit and wait patiently for him. “He’s a fool, even I could have told you that.” Mikey’s words rang true. He felt your body tense up and hiccup, you were crying.

On the island, you thought things would have been different, that Ran would have changed - he was desperate enough to come find you. You thought it was out of love, but it wasn’t. He was only trying to convince you to love him again so that he could get even with you. His ego was bruised and he wanted nothing more than to put you in your place. You thought maybe, just maybe, that Ran would have at least lived a better life after your so-called death. Perhaps it would be a wake up call or something. Mikey gave you an update not long after you left for Wakkanai - Ran was distraught and hurting. Your death affected him more than you thought. All updates about Ran stopped after you begged Mikey not to talk about him anymore. Things just never worked in your favor. Stumbling upon his other women, the pregnancy and now his intimate moment with his mistress - you felt disgusting, you felt used and dirty.

Looking up at him you realized that Manjiro gave you everything you ever wanted - love, affection, loyalty, sincerity and a sense of security. Not once has he ever given you a reason to distrust him or doubt your feelings for him. Even now, knowing that Ran claimed your body, he hasn’t left your side and hasn’t blamed you for being human.

An overwhelming sense of longing and desire took over, making you guide Mikey to the edge of the bed, pushing him into it and straddling his lap. “A-angel…what are you-” He stuttered and couldn’t even finish asking his question when you cut him off by kissing him. Your tongue darted into his mouth and dominated him. He tried to get you to stop so that he could catch his breath, but you were making his mind go blank. It's as if you latched on to him for dear life and didn't want to let go. When he managed to get some space in between the two of you, you felt pain. Plaguing your very thoughts were images of Ran with other women, the woman who was expecting his child, the very moment he made love to you on Wakkanai… It burned. You wanted to get rid of Ran's touch and his memory, and there was only one way how. “...help me.” You whisper into his lips, breath shaky and heart pounding - your plea broke his heart. You were so desperate, you'd even sell your soul to the devil himself to get rid of Ran's memory.

How could he deny your cry for help? Without hesitation, he rolled you over and devoured your neck - giving you open mouth kisses, bites and hickeys. No one else mattered at this point in time. If this is what you wanted then he will give it to you. Mikey sat up and looked into your eyes, the light was fading and he couldn't have that. “I’ll take care of you… I’ll love you and give you anything and everything…” He spoke with a bit of worry on his tongue. Your response would either make or break him, it was a confession. Taking in a deep breath and placing your hands over your heart you exhale slowly. “You’re the only one who can fix my heart, Manjiro.” Your words not only gave him the green light, but they also meant that you were giving yourself to him.

Mikey removed your towel and drank in your nude figure, he ran his calloused hands on your chest relishing in the softness of your skin. Your body was heaven to him, you were beautiful and seeing you so vulnerable - he knew you needed him. His hands roughly rolled your nipple between his fingers, it made you mewl and screw your eyes shut. Your moans made his member throb uncontrollably, three years of waiting - it was too much. Dipping down to place his mouth on your nipple, he trailed his hand lower to your honeypot and into your wet folds. The warmth had him on cloud 9. Sucking and biting your nipple, he roughly massaged your clit and played with the slick that was pooling. Without warning, he thrusted two fingers in your core and made your back arch like a cat. His thick fingers were stretching you out and hitting that spongy spot that had you drooling like a whore in heat.

“Mhn…Manjiro-fuck fuck!” You moan loudly and grip the back of his head. The silver stands were now tangled between your fingers, he enjoyed having you at his mercy. As your hips rolled into his touch, you felt him bite your nipple, the pain made your mind focus only on him. Your moans echoed in the bedroom and you could have sworn that the neighbors could hear you. The way your walls kept clenching around his digits, it only made him bite harder. Your plea to erase Ran from your skin, Manjiro took it literally. Soon, your chest was riddled in bitemarks. Withdrawing his fingers from your messy hole he turned you over on your stomach - leaning in, he slowly slid himself inside you. As he did, he bit down on your shoulder. The sensation made you moan into the pillows and clench the bed sheets. To feel you again, to have you beneath him, Mikey thought that he was about to blow his load when he bottomed out.

“Ngh… I’ve missed you so much, angel-oh fuck…” He moans into your shoulder. His shaky breaths and tremble of his lips against your skin had you mesmerized and drowning in a maelstrom of emotions. With his hands on your hips, he raised them higher so that he could get a deeper angle and hit that sweet spot. His hips thrusted slow and deep, he was giving you every ounce of love that you deserved. To feel how passionate he was with you, there was no doubt in your mind that he truly loved and cared for you. More and more you felt your mind at peace, leaving Tokyo was the right thing to do.

Mikey’s nails were digging into your hips and his feral grunts sounded like a sweet symphony to your ears. Heaven was knocking on your door the moment he thrusted his his cock into your fluttering walls. “Three years… Ngh-three fucking years… ahn…” He was almost whimpering as he spoke. “I've waited and waited-Mmm…” His thrusts were getting rougher and the pressure on your hips had you biting the pillow. Mikey's breath catches in throat as he feels you clench around his length. No one could hold a candle to you, you were everything and Ran gave it all up. “Manjiro!” You yell and moan into the pillow as he keeps hitting your sweet spots over and over again. “Y-you… Oh fuck…fuck…” He tries but he can't even form a sentence without stuttering or even cursing. This was beyond desire, this was love and devotion. His right hand searched for yours, lacing his fingers with yours and resting his forehead against your shoulder. This intimate moment meant more to Mikey than anything else in the world.

The bed continued to creek non stop with each thrust that Mikey gave you. Your left hand was gripping the headboard, trying to keep it from slamming too hard into the wall and also to help brace yourself. His hips stuttered and he slowed his pace when he felt infinity beginning to claw its way out. When he pulled out, you felt your body shudder - his warmth made you feel alive and now it’s gone. Whimpering, you turn back to look at him and he’s panting. His lips are parted and his silver tresses are a mess, that endless void in his eyes began to show a glimmer of light. Sitting up on his knees Mikey rolled you over onto your back, raised your hips and lifted your leg over his shoulder. He slid his length between your folds teasingly and his hand traced circles on your bundle of nerves. Your body trembled when he put more pressure on your clit, that same hand pushed his cock through your entrance and made you raise your hips even more. Manjiro didn’t even need to tell you what to do next, you moved your hips closer - letting him sink in and gain more friction against your clit. He smirked. “Good girl…you want to cum, yeah?” You nodded and whimpered a yes. He controlled your hip movement and leaned back a little, causing you to lose friction on the part you wanted it the most.

“M-Mikey…” You mewled and tried to sit up but his hand pressed you down into the mattress. He chuckled when you pouted. The look on your face was desperate, he enjoyed it - you were desperate for him, no one else but him. He tortured you just a little more before rolling over and placing you on top of him. The angle was beautiful, seeing you on top of him had his heart feeling full. “Make me cum too, (Y/N)...” Ohh that tone, it made your pulse race and your walls fluttered. Placing your trembling hands against his chest you began to bounce up and down his length at a slow pace. You could feel your thighs shake as he suddenly thrust upward as you came down, making you moan loudly - he was blurring your vision. Quickening your pace, you threw your head back and dragged his length through your velvet walls. Sounds of slick, moans and skin slapping echoed in that room - if you could make an NSFW ASMR video, this would be it. It all sounded so lewd and perfect. Feeling every vein, every throb and every twitch of his cock dragging inside you, you repeated his name over and over again.

Just when you thought you were going to float off into the abyss, Mikey reached for you - his hand was placed behind your neck and he pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. You paused for just a few seconds to try and catch your breath. He snatched the air out of your lungs when he dug his fingers into your hips and warned you. “I didn’t say stop…” Cupping his face, you lean into him and arch your back, the curved angle had his cock hitting that spongy spot with ease. His stomach was flexing with each move, Mikey was getting close - his raspy grunts were a clear indicator. Breathing him in you felt a high like you’ve never felt before. All you could think about was him. He made your mind go blank and pushed every other thought out of your head. Who were you crying about earlier? Whose lavender orbs were lingering in your thoughts? You couldn’t remember anymore.

Mikey held your body close, your clit was receiving so much friction that your thighs were starting to shake, “F-fuck…oh fuck…” You moan and close your eyes, floating off into the clouds as your orgasm crashes into you. The sensation had you going faster, to the point where he had to hold your hip in place or his cum would drip out. “Ahn, (Y/N)...” He moans and braces for his second - yes…his second orgasm. You were so caught up in Mikey’s scent and voice that you didn’t hear him say he was cumming the first time. It was already too late, your sheets were a complete mess by the time you both stopped moving. A mix of your juices and his thick cum stained the sheets. You were both left breathless and in a daze, this moment felt the closest to heaven than anything in the world.

These feelings were finally set free, he was the person who you wanted to be with, he was the person that made everything right and kept your heart at ease. Resting your head on his shoulder, you feel his heartbeat against yours. It sounded like a lullaby - one that you wouldn’t mind listening to for the rest of your life. This blissful moment came to an end when the sound of Manjiro’s going off made you both flinch. When he tried to move, you pinned him down and tears were beginning to prick your eyes again. You wanted him to just let it ring so that you could savor this just a little longer. Panting and coming down from your high, you leaned in to crash your lips on his, kissing him and devouring him. “...stay.” You cry between each kiss. “Don’t leave…” For three years you waited for him to walk through that door and now that he’s here, you don’t want him to leave. You had absurd hopes, you are asking the head of Bonten to drop everything for you. Rolling you over so that you both were on your sides, he wrapped his arms around you and exhaled. His gesture told you everything you needed to know, he was leaving the next day - he only came here to see you one last time.

“I know I can’t ask you to come back to Tokyo and I can’t ask you to wait for me…” He spoke and nuzzled his face against yours. Closing your eyes, you braced yourself - what was he going to say next?

*2 years later*

The sensation of someone touching your face woke you up from your nap. Dazed and confused, you open your eyes and see the culprit. Blonde tresses and dark eyes, yet their smile felt like the sun. Chubby little fingers were now poking your face and their face was now in your face. “M-ma…” Your one year old son babbles and smiles at you. “Akio…shouldn’t you be napping?” You say to your child as if he could understand you. Sitting up, you check the time and smile when you open the message notification. Picking up your kiddo, you get ready with them - shower and change. Going about your day, you caught up with errands and came home. It was already late afternoon, possibly around 17:30. In the kitchen you prepare to eat and feed the baby, midway into feeding and you hear the front door open. The sound of someone dropping luggage and footsteps coming closer makes your heart skip a beat, and finally… “Angel…I’m home.” The sound of Mikey’s voice echoed, you were just about to respond but baby Akio decided to respond for you by babbling loudly. He recognized the sound of his father’s voice.

When Mikey walks into the kitchen his eyes soften, seeing the beautiful sight in front of him makes his heart melt. You were sitting with the baby on your lap and when your eyes met his - he came closer to plant a kiss on your lips. You feel the baby being lifted from your lap, Manjiro picks him up and embraces his son - that child is all Manjiro, hardly even looks like you. His first born, his pride and joy that he only gets to visit once every two months. “You better not be keeping your mom up at night kiddo, I’ll kick your little ass if you are.” He whispers loud enough for you to hear him. “Manjiro!” You say and laugh.

Manjiro’s proposal was to relocate to Okinawa as there were more available flights and you’d still be able to start a new life. That night he came to visit you in Wakkanai - he stayed only for a day but planned your futures together. No, he couldn’t leave Boten and is still head of the organization but gets about 2 weeks of leave every two months. He promised you the world and he gave it to you. Well, the baby was a surprise but still - they were your world. The others kept their same duties and their distance. There was only one other person who checked in with you and that was Sanzu - he couldn’t help but be elated that he was an uncle. Not to mention that it’s his King’s heir…

The bitter feelings with Ran settled, you no longer held any resentment for him. If anything you felt sympathy, it turned out that his mistress’s child wasn’t his. He went through all that only to find out that it’s another man’s child. The truth came to light 8 months after the child was born. The underlings began to point out the difference in appearance when the baby got a little older. It looked nothing like Ran or even Rindou. Once the paternity test was done and the results confirmed their suspicion - you can say that he had lost his shit and threw them out, baby and all. He was trying his best to be a better person, to do right at least by you - he knew you’d never forgive him for forsaking his blood. Karma had other plans for him. Now he’s much more careful with who he sleeps with. When the rest of Bonten found out about your relationship with Mikey, it broke him. He couldn’t wrap his head around the thought of you being with someone else, even if that person was his boss. He begged to see you, but was only given a single phone call. He broke down and bursted into tears, apologizing to you and he let everything out. From the beginning of your relationship to the bitter end - it was a weight that was lifted off his shoulders. This call put out the fires in each other’s hearts. No, you didn’t forgive him but you both came to terms with everything that happened. Now you were just strangers to each other, nothing more and nothing less.

Throughout the evening, Manjiro spent time with his son - allowing you to also catch a break from being a mom. Preparing your son for bedtime, Mikey takes him to his room and you can hear Akio coo at Mikey. “P-pa…papapa” Fifteen minutes roll by as you wait in the living room for Mikey to come back. Laying back, you see him tiptoe back, he looks a little worn out - putting a baby to sleep is hard. Collapsing into your chest, he groans and wraps himself around you. “You ok daddy?” You ask playfully and stroke his hair. Nodding and burying himself deeper into your chest, he hums and says yes. “Everyday Akio looks more and more like you. Are you sure he’s my baby? It’s like you gave birth to him or cloned yourself.” You chuckle and continue to stroke his hair. Mikey sits up quickly and stares into your eyes with a serious look. Perhaps this was not the right thing to say knowing what happened to Ran. He leans slowly, you were a little worried until he placed a tender kiss on your lips. “Yeah? Wanna try again?” He says and wiggles his eyebrows up and down, the mischievous smirk on his face hints at making another baby. ❤️

END

TAGS: @rinrinfoxy @mor-pheus @no-signal @namelessnikki2 @gabi-moureira @spookys-s @slvtmeow @jinii-desu @mmmaaannnsssiii @3xchooo @kokotakeomi @no-name-jack @barriesandcrem @reidsmexyconverse @waterfallsdown @1980losersliveinme @gabytodd @simp4ren @fffsksixj @whatsonthemirror @jcrml @reiners-milkbiddies @unr-u-1y @bakugosgf2005 @whoisneth @bluephoenix908 @asmosslut @laurenzitaa @uniqueeggtoast @arlertsbaby @ilivefortheleague @mytaiyakeylover @niko-ash @anxious-chick

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sentient-stove · 11 months

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Wing hcs for the seven (+reyna and nico). Because I got bored and they should have wings.

Jason- Swan. Specifically the wings of a trumpeter swan. Large, majestic, maybe a little tragic, pure white and just benefiting of a son of Jupiter and praetor of the legion. He probably spends hours after battle grooming the blood/monster dust/dirt out of them and it’s one hell of a self soothing habit by that point.

Piper- White-Tailed Kite. She’s probably the fastest of the seven, constantly has people asking if she’s got dove wings and it’s lowkey grating on her nerves. It’s a kite, not a glorified pigeon thank you very much. Her and Jason will take turns grooming each other’s feathers though, and it’s lovely bonding time for them both.

Leo- Common Raven. Either signifying knowledge/innovation or the burden of being omened by death, your choice. Who am I kidding, he definitely sees them as bad luck. Clipped on one side from a foster home or possibly when he had a runaway attempt from wilderness camp. Rarely has them out, and stress tears out his own feathers.

Annabeth- Barn Swallow. Kind of plain, but she just lies half the time and says that she’s got owl feathers. Post Mark of Athena, she’s more proud of them and her place among her peers with more exotic wings. Also Percy’s the only person with blanket permission to touch and groom her feathers. Also has a stress tearing issue, but her siblings and partner are good at catching her before she can damage herself too badly.

Percy- Common Kingfisher. Still good for flight, but also allows him to dive and hit the water without worrying about not being able to surface afterwards due to being waterlogged. Bit redundant since he can dry himself off anyway thanks to Poseidon powers but the point still stands. Plus, they’re blue and he’s absolutely chuffed that they are.

Frank- *insert american bald eagle jokes* jkjk. Red-Tailed Hawk. Although he didn’t get his adult feathers until he unlocked his shapeshifter abilities and matured there. He can also change his wings to different ones when he concentrates but it always feels a touch off, so he sticks with the wings he was born with.

Hazel- Golden-Winged Sunbird. Pretty! Unique! Gave her a lot of shit for it in her first life because of course the cursed girl with the death jewels had gold wings. She’s gotten alot more comfortable with having them since meeting Frank and Nico though.

Bonus!

Reyna- Hispanionlan Amazon. Yes, the green clashes with the purple of her praetor cloak. No, that will not stop her from still wearing it. Her and Hylla’s wings match, although Hylla dyes her feathers black in an attempt to seem more intimidating. Reyna tried once and decided that she preferred the original coloring of her wings.

Nico- Cinereous Vulture. Go look up photos, trust me. Absolute wet cat of a bird. Plus honor and respect in death, and like a vulture, Nico is also a scavenger. His wings are missing feathers from neglecting to groom them + the amount of time he’s spent nomadic. Living at camp full time is helping with the feather regrowth however.

#leo valdez #heroes of olympus #hoo #percy jackson #pjo #nico di angelo #piper mclean #jason grace #annabeth chase #frank zhang #hazel levesque #reyna avila ramirez arellano #wing au #the seven + nico and reyna

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summer-of-fandom · 3 months

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Fandom is about community- it is for fans by fans.

Each box is worth 1x pt

For a Try-It: Earn at least 3 points

For a Badge: Earn at least 10 points

Show Your Love

Write a thank you post/tweet/etc to someone involved in making the show/book/movie. Whether it be the writer, director, an actor, or something even more behind the scenes, like the sound designers.

If your source material is in a language you can't read/speak- thank a translator for the hard work they put into making sure that you can enjoy content. Whether it's the team who translated the show, or another fan on twitter- translators do so much for bringing media to different communities that would have otherwise been kept away from it.

Grab a comment bingo board and write comments for the fan-creators in your community, whether they're making FMVs, fanfiction, art, or something else.

If you're a fan-creator, take some time to thank people who have commented on your work.

F is for friends who do stuff together

Host/join in on a watch party! Whether it's old school 'okay everyone, on the count of 3-2-1' style, with a friend physically by your side, or hosted in a server/elsewhere- watching things with other people is a fantastic way to engage in fandom.

Hang out in a community space- whether it's a community on tumblr/discord/twitter/etc- being in a community space and participating in conversation is an act of fandom

Participate in a fandom-specific fest/exchange.

Participate in a non-fandom specific trend- like kinktober, mer-may, femslash february

Write a relay-style fic, where authors work together writing either a few lines or few paragraphs at a time

Create a fandom game to play with your friends. Maybe a round of 'people submit a line of emojis and then everyone makes a guess to see if they can figure out what shows they represent.'

Fan-gifts as a love language

Make a gift for a fandom friend and send it to them- whether that's a friendship bracelet, writing a gift-fic that you know is Just Up Their Alley, or something else entirely.

Make a mood board for a fanfic/fanart and gift it to the writer/artist.

Make a playlist for a fanfic/fanart and gift it to the writer/artist.

Write a fic for a piece of fanart and gift it to the artist

Draw a piece of fanart for a fanfic and gift it to the writer

Create a podfic of someone else's fic

Create an e-book/fan layout of someone's fic.

Make an icon! Make 20! Share them with friends

Make an emoji or sticker to be used in your fandom-based communities like discord

Interaction is the cure to Isolation

Send an ask to a fandom-blog on tumblr/twitter asking about a show you know they've watched/are watching. Like this one.

Create an Interactive Fandom Blog. Like this one about Dungeon Meshi monster biology.

Create a Poll (on tumblr/twitter/discord/send it to your friends via carrier pigeon) about a moment in the show where all the answers are wrong/funny. Like this one about Super Natural.

Participate in someone else's poll about something fandom related

Create a Poll (on tumblr/twitter- you get the point) about the fandom experience. Whether it's about the first book someone read in a 'group'- i.e. this one about discworld books,

Attend a fan event. Whether it's an official concert, a convention, or an off-book server party- any place that is about gathering with friends who enjoy

Participate in a fandom-ask game. Like this one for fanfiction writers.

Participate in a fandom-post game- like this one about making polls.

Sharing is Caring/extending your talents

Translate a tweet/interview bit/x from one language into another

Translate a fic (with permission from the author) from one language into another

Add image descriptions to fandom posts you see floating around- helping make posts more accessible

Archive important moments. Whether it's creating an archive of events that actors have done, the outfits worn in a show, resources that you think more fans should know about or whatever it is that makes your heart sing.

Are you from the place a show takes place? Know something that you think others are missing? Share your knowledge, like this person who has created a primer on Thai culture.

#Summer of Fandom #Playing Well With Others badge

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fragileoracle · 1 year

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Ⅱ - Idle Hands & The Devil's Work

And that somebody was Birdie Summers.

"Then go on woman! Ain't nobody asking you to stay, you think you can find better go find it, I want no part of it, and I don't want to see your lily white ass crawling back when you can't find it ya hear?"

It was Mr. Elijah Howard shouting, only his tone was far more even and his expression more annoyed than upset. In a way, he always looked friendly, with dark eyes that seemed genuine and a smile so white it could blind you. For a lot of folks in Saint-Denis, he was the only man they trusted to pour their whisky. The real stuff from Scotland. He had a way about him, young and charismatic that made you wonder what the hell he was doing in Saint-Denis pouring drinks. If it weren't for the money that poured in through the front door every night at the Bastille. It was as if no other place in Lemoyne had a drop of liquor when the doors to the Bastille first opened.

"Oh, why thank you for your permission, Mr. Howard. I hope that ugly ole cow Fanny is enough to keep your poker table hot!"

That was Bernadette, known by the regulars as Birdie the Bastille Jewel. All golden blonde curls and eyes carved from blue ice, with skin unmarred by not a single freckle and a generous mouth purring promises that could walk a man off a cliff. Men simply fell over themselves for just a shred of Birdie's attention. Mercy had witnessed more than her fair share of duels for Birdie's "honor" and nearly twice as many angry wives asking for that "no-good blonde trollop".

To say Mercy and Birdie didn't get along was a serious understatement. Where Birdie was a plucky, obnoxious, heavily perfumed pigeon without a lick of good sense Mercy was her foil. All dark and stormy with a knife for a tongue. In another life they could have made a perfect pair of criminals.

In this life the two women were a match made in the seventh ring of hell.

Seeing the woman all red-faced and angrier than a mule wasn't the worst way to start her work day. Mercy bit her tongue to stop from smirking as she approached, still failing somewhat as her eyes glittered with satisfaction. Mr. Howard was the first to walk off, leaving the two women at the entrance of the Bastille. The jobless Birdie having just realized she had an unwelcome witness to her tantrum, as if the whole of Saint-Denis hadn't heard her squawking.

With a look of unmasked disdain, Birdie placed a hand on her hip giving Mercy a once-over with those pallid blue eyes of hers.

"Speaking of ugly ole cows," She hissed while tossing a few of those golden curls over her shoulder, "Enjoy the show?"

"Naw, I've seen this one before. It's just as boring as the last time I saw it. You quit last week too, remember? It loses its novelty after the first couple-a-times, you know." Mercy responded with just as much venom while she crossed her arms, her unfriendly smirk more plain than before.

Birdie started to respond with another sharp one-liner no doubt, but Mercy wasn't having it. She held up a hand cutting her off while turning on her heel toward the door to the Bastille.

"That was rhetorical. Good luck finding new work, Miss Summers, maybe this time it'll stick." Feeling more than a little victorious, Mercy pushed open the door before letting it swing shut in Birdie's angry, red face. A string of expletives accompanied the fading angry clack of heels against cobblestone as Birdie stomped off.

Bernadette was a cruel, disrespectful bitch of a woman and Mercy was glad to see Mr. Howard treating her as such. It was about time he saw through her cheap façade and started giving her a taste of her own medicine. Even if she did tend to bring in more business than Remedy's meals or the other girls, it didn't give her any right to act as though she owned the damn place. Jewel of the Bastille or not, she was just another working girl with a head too big for her shoulders. This little game of chicken was sure to end in Birdie returning with an untouchable vengeance.

Still, the Bastille would get at least one peaceful night.

"Mercy? Why, I don't think I have ever seen you in the light of the morning sun." Elijah Howard drawled from behind his bar as she crossed the floor over to him, leaning against the counter with a grin.

"You ain't the only one." Mercy laughed, "I can always come back in the light of the moon so I don't confuse you," Mercy replied, propping herself up against the bar top with two fingers proffered.

"Oh no, you're here now and there's plenty-a work to be done." Elijah placed a cigarette between her fingers, striking a match and held it out to her as she placed the stick of tobacco between her lips and allowed him to light it for her. "Birdie won't be making it in today, so it's all hands on deck."

"I heard as much." Mercy made a face which Elijah did her the courtesy of ignoring, never much one for gossip. At least in terms of those he chose to employ at the Bastille. Business came first in every facet, a characteristic Mercy found admirable. Mr. Howard didn't fool around about money.

"Did you now, I suppose you come in right after me. Good, I can tell you directly then," Mr. Howard continued to clean the shot glasses before moving on to a set of mugs. "You'll be working the bathing room starting noon to midnight. Lara, Fanny, and Rosa are on the floor tonight."

So it was going to be one of those nights.

Taking a long drag of her cigarette, Mercy exhaled a cloud of smoke with a heavy sigh realizing she'd been doing her fair share of sighing as of late. Those little notes of discontent echoing the tug that just couldn't be satisfied.

Straightening up, Mercy took another drag of her cigarette. It wasn't as though she wasn't expecting to be reprimanded for the previous night, but a full twelve-hour shift of bathing every dirty body that came through the door? That was a new form of cruel and unusual, even from Elijah.

"So it got back to you, did it," Mercy grumbled, her mood souring once more as though she'd caught a whiff of Eau de Saint-Denis. "I was only defending myself."

It was true, at least in part. One of the wealthier regulars had decided that his winning poker hand wasn't enough to sate his deviancy, instead preferring a hand of flesh. Unfortunately for him, Mercy was in rare form and cracked him across the face with the back of her hand of flesh. The alarming sound of violence and the look of gob-smacked shock on his face was entirely too satisfying, but it quickly escalated ending in a couple of men dragging the offender out of the Bastille with him claiming assault. Of course, Mercy hadn't been too shy with a few colorful insults thrown at him like daggers on the way out making even a few of the men folk blush.

"I barely even left a mark on him, Elijah. Meanwhile, my rear end is going to be bruised for a week." Mercy griped, tapping the end of her cigarette into the ashtray. "Where's the justice in that?"

"Everything gets back to me, and I don't pay you to defend yourself. I pay you to smile and look pretty while my guests play poker and drink this Scottish hooch. If you want justice, go on 'head to the police station meanwhile, you keep that tongue in check, especially tonight. You get an easy shift, all suds and idle chit-chat. Nothing too difficult, right?" Mr. Howard looked at her expecting nothing less than a chipper response while holding out the ashtray.

"Of course Mr. Howard, all smiles and looking pretty." Mercy rolled her eyes, putting out the cigarette with a tight, ingenuine smile. "Anything for you, Mr. Howard."

"That's what I like to hear. Now go on to the kitchen and put those devilish hands of yours to work. Go on."

Remedy had been pleased as punch to put said devilish hands of Mercy's to work, and Mercy had been more than happy to listen to the stories of his life on the islands. She'd heard them all after just a year working at the saloon, but the man had a way of telling stories that each time he retold a tale she learned something new. It was almost as if he did it purposefully so his recounting always felt new and exciting. The two worked well together, well enough that Mercy figured if she was even a little more crude and a lot less pretty Elijah would've just kept her in the kitchen. Especially considering Remedy didn't like anybody the way he seemed to tolerate Mercy.

Mr. Remedy-Antoine Laguerre from the island of Vidriosa was a large man in every sense of the word. Tall and broad-shouldered, he cut an intimidating figure and was much more than simply a fat man. Remedy and Elijah had known each other for some time before the Bastille first opened its doors, and before he was a cook Remedy acted as something of a bouncer to the Saloon. Mercy had seen him act as such only one time before, and it had been the first time she'd ever seen a man's soul leave his body. Under all those layers were muscles tough as forged steel, and a strength that boggled the mind. Only the jagged, angry scar slashed across his proud, russet face told the story of the life he lived before he came to America. Where a warm smile danced in those dark eyes of his you could only guess at the ghosts of his past.

"Heya Mercy, you betta focus on that knife before you take off those pretty ol' fingers ah yours," the cook cut into her reverie as she finished chopping the various root vegetables for the evening's meal. There were two options for the night. Stew and a hearty lobster bisque, the latter being a new recipe Elijah asked Remedy to try his hand at. "we got enough meat foh the pot without em. What's that eatin' at you?"

"You ever been so restless it feels like your bones are going to run off without you?" Mercy asked quietly after a moment of thought, not meeting his gaze as he watched her with his eyes narrowed. Sometimes it felt that gaze of his looked right through her as though she were nothing more than a window.

"Your bones?" Remedy turned his attention back to the prime cut of beef under his knife, expertly slicing with the grain of the muscle. "Well if'n your bones start runnin' I 'spose you gonna start runnin' too, but I wonder now if'n it's your bones or your heart that be tryna run." He replied thoughtfully, still glancing down at her as he began rubbing his specialty mix of seasonings into the slabs of beef on his cutting board.

Mercy was quiet as she continued peeling another batch of potatoes, careful to leave a bit of peel as Remedy always requested. He let her be, humming a familiar little ditty as he pan-fried chunks of steak coated in a fragrant mixture of butter, salt, flour, and rosemary. The scent of which would soon be filling the entire ground floor of the saloon.

Remedy's words struck a nerve. It was her heart that wanted to run from Saint-Denis, reminding her of her life before the fire. Before she was pulled by the very roots and transplanted to a place she knew she had no chance of growing in. There was only routine here, and the feeling that she would die a saloon girl and nothing more rose in from her stomach like bile.

As the despair of her realization came to a head, Mercy's hands began to shake. The paring knife slipped between her trembling fingers into her palm while a thin sound she couldn't place rang over the din of sizzling meat and crackling fire of the woodstove. The phantom ring filled her head and her breath came too short. That traitorous heart of hers pounded against her rib cage as if it were a bird that meant to take flight altogether. All she could see in her mind was an unmarked grave, her body left to rot in the clay-ridden soil of the bayou

I can't die here, I won’t.

Mercy wasn't aware she'd caught the knife, still clinging to the blade until Remedy's large hands covered her own, forcing her to relax her bloody grip. The metallic sound of the knife hitting the floor shook her from the spell of hysterics as she found herself looking into Remedy's eyes. His face masked by an expression of concern.

Once the ringing stopped she took a shaky breath as her head swam. Her pounding heart was unconvinced, still rattling in her chest. All that was left were the familiar sounds of the kitchen and the rush of blood in her head as the fear subsided, and adrenaline pulsed through her in waves.

"It's your heart, ain't it?" Remedy asked, still holding her hands in his much larger palms, with her blood seeping through his fingers. Mercy couldn't help but feel both comforted and foolish as she bled into her friend's hands as if she were nothing more than a clumsy child.

"I don't want to die here, Remedy." Mercy's voice was small, and she hated how scared she sounded.

Furrowing his brow, she wasn't expecting him to laugh but in a way, it was exactly what she needed. Even if the great sound of it caused her a start. His eyes crinkled around the edges as he beamed while patting her wounded hand, the velveteen quality of his chuckles wrapping around her. Grounding her. Rooting her into the present and chasing away the sudden wave of despair.

"Mercy you ain't gon' die here, and neither am I. You ah fool and ah half girl, you got many years 'head ah you I tell you. Don't bring none ah that foolishness into this 'ere kitchen." Remedy chastised her, pulling a clean cotton rag from a shelf above the stove and wrapping it tightly around her hand, staunching the wound.

"Look ah you, paler than ah ghost. Sit down ova der, all that blood gonna have you feelin somethin faint and I don’t need you bleedin' like a pig on dinner. ‘Sides, I don't 'ave to be ah bettin' man to know you ain't ate a lick ah anythin'." Remedy frowned at her, urging her to a chair in the back of the kitchen sat next to an old wooden table covered with various bowls and empty liquor bottles.

"I have a peach," Mercy replied pathetically from her seat. And as if she were making a solid point she pulled the fruit from the pocket of her skirt and held it up as "proof".

"Oh do ya now, go on den. Sit der and eat it, ever' bite." Remedy shook his head and waved her off, "Gonna fry you up some eggs too, you damn fool. And quit ya worryin' ah death, you hearin' me?"

Maybe it had been the hours she'd gone without eating that morning, but Mercy liked to think it was the way Remedy had cooked the eggs. Mercy swore they were the finest fried eggs on bread she'd ever eaten in her life. Tasting faintly of steak fat and butter with the aftertaste of rosemary, Remedy had cracked the two eggs into the same pan he'd been cooking in. Along with the peach, she wolfed down the meal so quickly that she had to take a deep breath once she was done to keep from causing herself a case of indigestion. The sweetness of the peach was still on her tongue as she reclined in her seat feeling quite renewed, sighing with satisfaction.

Maybe it hadn't been her heart or bones or any of that nonsense at all. At least she'd convinced herself it'd been hunger.

The final hours of the afternoon idled by uneventfully as Mercy nursed her wounded hand, hiding in the kitchen from the other girls. First would be Fanny, followed by Rosa and Lara. Mercy was especially avoiding Loretta who would start hunting her down the minute she arrived.

Mercy was not looking forward to the invasive prodding and comments about displaying her "ample bosom" in the tightest corset in the armoire. And the rouge, God the rouge. More was more with Loretta, and no one could escape her brushes and pinching fingers.

Though there was the off-chance she'd go easier on Mercy since she was exiled to the bathing room all night, doubt said it wouldn't matter one way or the other. She was simply biding her last few hours of peace before the night began, and the fading sunlight told Mercy she was on borrowed time.

"Miss Graves! Why I never, what are you doing in here? Last I checked we never hired a scullery maid."

Speak of the Devil and she doth appear.

#chapter two #the fox and the stag #minor edit update

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hallowed-wings · 3 years

Note

hallo! :D i'm gonna send 8 in two separate asks and u two can divide them up however you'd like (sorry if that's too many askdfjaksf) - for this one, 1, 2, 7, 8

[ helloooo this is ashes here!! we've split it up so we each take one set of four and then nab questions we want from the others set too. this is also my second go at answering this because the first draft didn't save :'] ]

[ 1 ] Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

so i'm legally required to have several things cooking up at once /lh so I have a bunch of stuff on the backburners (very far back but in my defense it's exam season and i'm tired) such as a character/location study 5+1 things style (though im unsure if it is an actual 5+1 or just like. several segments with the same theme) on l'manhole, a desert duo 5+1 from grians pov (actually a 5+1 this time I swear) and a fic from when eret rescued michael whilst hannah george and sapnap played bedwars, due to a devastating (/pos) tiktok I saw, and a few other things! but they likely won't be my focus atm 😔☝️✨

my main project rn is the love of my life, my hadestown 3L (/LL/a touch of Empires ish) au!!! Jimmy is Orpheus. Scott is Eurydice. it's a tragedy. Cleo and Etho are Persephone and Hades and their relationship is a mess. aaaalllll that good stuff to come!! can't spoil too much. it's full of emotions, full of stuff I can't speak about tooooo much in case of spoilers but I've been working very hard on it!! the whole plan is written (though I keep adding more and more and more) and I've started writing chapter one! so it's very much in the works and I'M personally very much excited :]

[ 2 ] Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

there's twists and metaphors in my hadestown au (gods above it needs a name) that i'm super excited for and trying very much not to spoil!! but im very excited for hadestown!lizzie in particular, and more cleo content is always good :]!! hadestown!cleo is very lovely to me she means the world To Me. but yeah i love a good extended metaphor or twist, the sort that makes me feel VERY INTELLIGENT for put it there; i've run all these particular ones past riser to make him go MMMMM so i hope that bodes well 👀

[ 7 ] What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

i would say personally that my works are all very emotionally driven!!! not necessarily on purpose but almost every work boils down to a feeling or handful of feelings at its core. hadestown au is about love, my c!eret michael rescue fic is about grief and redemption, and so on! I also love metaphors. just so much. many metaphors all the time this isn't flowery writing this is a whole botanical garden!!!

i asked a few people and yeah I'd say they agree. riser says im very smart (true and so based /lh)!! but seriously no riser says i sometimes have lines that just bang severely ( i.e this, circa blue christmas. — Ghostbur’s thoughts tumble from his mouth the same way smoke drifts off from him; curling and aimless. ) and that i clearly understand structure and am brilliantly linguistically etc etc, another friend said that my writing was "quiet in the best way possible" "mature ; me and my husband + its sigh" and very cathartic, which I think is all pretty cool!

[ 8 ] Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

right see- the answer here is yes and no? because i'd say yes in terms of dynamic/characters, if i really like a dynamic/character i'll seek out their content and im more likely to probably write them, although that's! not always true! i wouldn't say i read a lot of puffy and niki content, but i have them featured in my l'manhole 5+1 things (which is going to be called my little versailles btw, from sufjan steven's fourth of july. very good song very sad </3), and i don't think i've ever written 4/4 sbi and yet i read Rather A Lot Of It??

but also. I grew up on high fantasy, and I still love it, i crave nothing more than complicated aus in settings fresher than the first lamb of spring (SEE IT IS to t; passerine) but can I be arsed to plan that thoroughly myself? no! i am simply cramming it in my mouth as fast as i can. ALSO READ A LOT OF WINGFIC AND DONT WRITE IT but I gotta write more about winged characters... do I know anything about birds? no I just. I like them.

gods above that was a rambly answer -

bonus thievin': [ 9 ] Are you more of a drabble or a longfic kind of writer? Pantser or plotter? Do you wish you were the other?

i'm definitely a drabbler! i've never finished a longfic... ever... started Many but never finished them as much as i want to, with one semi-notable exception that still only exists in 4 and a half notebooks and needs to be typed up. i'm more of a pantser in general (which i LOATHE i wish i was more planned out), i tend to try and strike while the inspiration iron is hot (and boy oh boy is it a quickly cooling thing), but i'm trying to plan more. i find 5+1's the easiest to plan for because its so neatly chunked down, fun fact!! and my hadestown au has a whole plan and im very very proud of said plan :] so hopefully that will break the mould of unfinished longfics!

—

there u go! hope that wasn't too wordy/long/ rambly :] enjoy and thanks so much for the ask !

#ashes answers #birds of a feather #(thats your tag with us now #riser came up with it! it's lovely)#speaking of riser is working on their answers but also its very late here so she'll do it tomorrow )#speaking of I'm very tired its bedtime now #thanks so much for the ask permission pigeon!!!!!#ask games #writing

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Text

Boxer Levi & Coach Reader

author note :: i lost the ask for this, but this is not good at all. quite literally the worst thing i have ever written /srs anyways,,,,, anon said they wanted me to post it no matter what so i hope you do enjoy whatever this is,,, the pacing is non-existent and it has not been edited 👍🏼

requests are always open :-) i promise i am usually better than this,, anyway i may just use this as a rough outline for a fic 🤔

word count :: 5.4k....... yeah......

you and levi become acquainted with each other in university. it’s all very cliche if you do say so yourself. he steps in playing the role of good samaritan heroically saving your wallet and wordlessly he hands it to you even after running for the thief. the man doesn’t do as much as pant in exhaustion.

his stamina is…never mind that, his reflexes are out of this world

he expects a thank you because anyone else would expect at least a token of gratitude shown via words but the sentence you want to ask only ends up trapping itself in your throat

it comes to the point where he nods understanding maybe you have a sore throat or just don’t want to thank him at all

eyes flicking to his hands you immediately lunge forward taking your chance.

almost immediately you feel regret for holding onto the wrist of a complete and utter stranger without permission

“your stamina it’s great!” the man turns to you, he isn’t smiling but he’s definitely intrigued by the sudden change in behavior

and that’s where it all begins

levi’s horrible at getting to know strangers, even worse at forming bonds and connections. maybe that’s why he doesn’t warm up to the idea of having to deal with new people and new settings all at once

“i hope you’ve met your coach this is aman-” introductions are cut short by levi stubbornly interjecting in the middle of your sentence

“i have, but is she you?”

pursing your lips an awkward chuckle leaves your mouth, you look around uncomfortably wondering what he means.

“well, no?”

“then i won’t box.”

?????

you don’t even know what to say??? here you were thinking maybe he would be a little more cooperative than this.

his index finger points right at you and he takes a step forwards. his shoes come into contact with yours and you find yourself holding your breath apprehensively.

“i won’t box unless it’s you in charge.”

that is when you and levi formally meet for the first time. you are but an inexperienced coach and he, an inexperienced boxer.

“i’m getting drinks you want anything?”

“oh no don’t worry i’m good!!” you smile at levi and he nods his head venturing off to buy himself a bottle of sparkling water

levi has had you coaching him for a few years now

really he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more than respect for you. respect for the way you stay back late with him to train, respect for the schedules you make him and he’s most definitely respectful of your boxing knowledge

sure out of the two of you he’s more physically capable but it doesn’t change the fact that he becomes frustrated when he’s told he has to spend a day without you.

it’s not like you think that levi cares or anything, nothing sappy like that.

he just probably hates, no, despises having to listen to anyone else’s instructions. he finds that they somehow sound demeaning or less sincere.

every instruction you give him has a reason behind it. you don’t beat around the bush and he’s stated before that he enjoys that he knows he’s developing his skill set and progressing when he’s with you.

the olympus ring - one of the largest boxing competitions known to man is approaching soon and if levi manages to place in the top two his career is set to sky rocket in no time at all

that thought makes you feel unusually nervous

worry gnaws at your mind and you wonder about whether or not he’ll replace you after the competition concludes. after all who wants a coach with little fighting experience? all you really know is from your family. your brother and father had been professional boxers years prior.

you have no doubt at all that levi will place number one that’s for sure but you really hope he doesn’t find a replacement for you.

you’ve never had much faith in your coaching and to be left behind in the dust hurts you a tiny bit but you never bring it up because you know what? levi progressing in his career will make him happy :-)

levi’s happiness over yours and it’s not good to be selfish you suppose >:(

“y/n.” he’s waving a hand in front of your face, you’re uncharacteristically quiet today and he’s caught on

“you awake?” he asks again.

upon receiving no response levi’s now waving his hand with more tenacity

“wake. up.” he flicks at your forehead and you stir a little finally coming to your senses once you see him leaning up above you.

he looks taller than normal from this angle and your cheeks blaze, he has a habit of walking around shirtless whilst training and doesn’t realise the effect it has on you

“i- yeah good totally good. just thinking.”

“thinking about?” levi kneels to the floor looking you in the eyes and your mind falters wondering when it was he began to sit so close to you. it feels like it was just yesterday when the two of you used to eat lunch separately out of embarrassment.

the silence stretches for a second too long and his eyes narrow suspiciously leaving you to think on your feet

“i well, you have a press conference soon and i have to think of transportation and-”

“coach. i can deal with that.”

you’re a little stunned when he says that because he’s never tried to take away from your responsibilities in the past. is this a hint that he no longer wants you around?

“but it’s my job?” you reply back feeling threatened

“but you’re always doing it. i can figure it out this once.”

without even hearing the rest of what you have to say he stalks back towards his punching bag leaving your chest empty

he’s definitely thinking of replacing you is what you think

really this should not be getting you worked up.

you’ve known levi for years, you should have faith in the fact he trusts you but you find yourself indulging in self doubt more often than you intend to

guilt fills you as you scroll through the multiple job listings in front of you but you have a justification. this is your lifeline, you can’t afford to lose your source of income and it’s best to be prepared

however there’s no real amount of preparation that can get you used to the prospect of not seeing levi every day

he’s sort of just made a space for himself in your daily routine

chewing at your bottom lip you can’t get through one job listing without thinking about him and you shut your laptop down thinking tomorrow will be a better day and you’ll check back in then

why does levi even matter?? he’ll officially be an ass when he dumps you of your position?? who cares about him???

but that doesn’t stop you from caring and now you’re hunched over your closed laptop trying to understand what it is that’s making you feel this way

maybe it’s the whole attachment you have with him??

he is the very first person you’ve ever coached that’s true

he’s made you proud and allowed for your name to get out there in the boxing world

maybe that’s what’s holding you back from looking into other jobs

but that reason doesn’t make much sense

you should still be frustrated with him.

AND

you most definitely should not care about how he’s doing OR worry about who’ll patch him up when he ends up stupidly injuring himself during practice (he does that a lot)

“why do i care so much for him?” you type into google thinking there’s no person on this earth that can help you with this predicament now

honestly at this point asking AI is probably going to have to be your only reliable option

tapping on one of the first links you hope to find your answer

“what happened? yeah, you had sex?” pops onto your screen and you tap off as quick as possible.

no. you did not have sex. oh god, you haven’t even touched levi much. the most you’ve done is lace your fingers with his and offer him a hug

are you meant to have… had sex???

is it wrong for you to feel that way withou-

okay enough. this has got nothing to do with sex and your feelings are still valid. maybe you are right and you’re attached to him that’s it!!! right?

scrolling further down you nearly give up until you reach another link titled “the science of caring for those who don’t care for you.”

rolling your eyes you still hesitantly tap praying you find some sort of answer

and an answer is what you find that’s for sure

staring you right in the face in bold letters

1. you feel responsible for that person

not really, he’s very independent.

2. the person is a family member

absolutely not

3. you could be romantically attracted to the person in question

…….

romantically interested?? no. that’s wrong. not true. incorrect. not right. just not real. you are not romantically attracted to levi

,,,or are you?

that does explain why he makes you feel jittery, it explains why you shivered the one time he engulfed you in a hug at his first championship

it also explains why you feel burning jealousy when a celebrity shoves their number into your hands asking you to pass it onto levi. they don’t even look at you like you’re a human being. you’re just a messenger pigeon

they’re worlds away from you. you forever stuck in your tracksuit and them - those beautiful models in skintight dresses and heels to match are stuck in a world where everything they want is handed to them. that includes men

you know it’s not their fault and you’d kill to be like them too but you guess the whole sweaty tracksuits and boxing daily has just become your niche

nonetheless levi is a man. a popular man.

and he sure as hell has no romantic interest in his clumsy, uncoordinated coach

sighing you huddle yourself into a ball choosing not to think about it anymore

but you know you’ve already come to your conclusion

you like levi ackerman more than a coach should

and it’s taken you years to take notice of it

when you became a coach you never really thought people would talk about you much

you were clearly very wrong about that. you and levi are both hot topics on discussion forums and boxing panels. luckily for you levi finds no entertainment in such forms of boxing and so never glances at them

he’s completely unaware of all the online comments. to be honest you’re happy he’s oblivious to it all. he doesn’t deserve to deal with spiteful, mean spirited jabs

you’re less like levi and find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news articles and boxing q&a pages. it’s interesting to see what people have to say on social media

but these days all the searches for your name are filled with “replaced soon?” and “not good enough to coach ackerman?”

the headlines are cruel jokes but again you’re willing to handle taking the brunt of the press’ force instead of levi. yes, even if it hurts you.

“what you reading?” levi peers over your shoulder and you nearly throw your phone away to the other side of the room but instead you choose to grip at it tightly and shove it into your chest

you grin hiding the screen away. “something private.”

levi doesn’t look like he believes you, he wants to ask if you’re okay and if you need anything because frankly you do look slightly distraught but he decides against interrogating you

“oh okay. i’ll be back. you want anything from starbucks?” he asks.

at that moment you wish he asked you if you wanted to talk about what had been bothering you

but you know even if he did ask you’d deny his help

the olympus ring’s official press conference is one in which many rivalries will be established

levi has always had an issue with zeke jaeger one of the top contenders in his division.

it’s a long story......

one which includes the purposeful injury of a mutual friend in order to sabotage his career

you remember it all, the way you had to physically hold levi back from pouncing at the man. it had been one of the most difficult things you had to do

erwin was your friend too and you wanted him to receive justice. part of you wanted to let go and allow for levi to attack zeke with his all but you chose to be levi’s coach before you were erwin’s friends

if he wasn’t going to make good decisions for himself you would do it for him

if you had let him go through with that rash choice he could have risked suspension and suspension could completely halt some careers. suspension almost always led to shorter longevity and motivation

and so that’s why you always shift to levi’s side when he walks past zeke. there’s no way you’re taking a chance. knowing levi he could lose his cool and completely pummel him with an upper cut

so that’s what you’re doing right now. trying to edge levi to the other side of the hall but he does no such thing.

“coach, do you have to be so cautious with zeke?” he finally asks with a bland look on his face

you wince a little when he doesn’t use your name and it looks like he notices the reaction. he makes no commentary on it

“this is my job. let me do it properly.” you explain nudging him to the side so your path doesn’t coincide with zeke’s

levi looks at you poking a tongue in his cheek clearly not amused nor happy

“i’ll do what i want.” and with that said and done he walks on ahead. you take note of the fact that despite saying he’ll do what he wants he does in fact comply with your instructions and walks in the opposite direction and into a nearby convenience store

sighing you rummage through your backpack trying to find your meds

your head has been pounding since you’ve arrived and you hope to fit in at least one nap

looking up to survey the area the street is clear and there is no sight of zeke. you feel at ease at that discovery, not only does he cause you discomfort but he’s a general displeasure to interact with

his tuft of dirty blonde hair irks you to no end and you’re up for no conversation with the man who who ended erwin’s career

he’s the last person you want to ever initiate small talk with.

but fate is a weird thing is it not? because as soon as you’re sure you’ve escaped the clutches of zeke jaeger you hear a chuckle behind you

“well if it isn’t levi’s side piece?”

a hand lands on your shoulder but you shake it away immediately

jaw clenching you try to ignore zeke as best you can but he continues to taunt you

“imagine if levi got an actual coach and not a whore to fuck in the gym?”

turning to face him you see him midway through shrugging his shoulders

believe it or not there had been a time where you and zeke were good friends. a time where he hadn’t let fame get to his head.

so for him to refer to you like that does make your heart sting a little

“cat got your tong-”

and there it is

the long overdue punch

it hits him right in the jaw without warning and you’re tripping trying to stop levi - who might you add has shown up from NOWHERE.

you thought he was shopping?????

“you know if i needed to swing at him i could have?!?” you whisper shout at him completely infuriated that he’s possibly thrown away his chance of competing

“you weren’t going to though.” he says plainly and you can’t deny it.

you don’t have it in you to swing at zeke.

levi doesn’t choose to inflict more pain on his opponent and instead kneels beside him leaning by his ear

you don’t know what he whispers - you’re completely out of ear shot but it’s not even thirty seconds later till levi rises and saunters away seeming content

shooting zeke an apologetic look for the over the top beating you’re surprised to see him look...regretful?

whatever levi said you wonder what it was

it’s been a solid fifteen minutes of you walking behind levi

his back is all you’ve seen so you have no idea about his mood and it’s not that you’re intimidated or anything but peering in just to look at his face is a little odd so you choose to stay a suitable distance away

“y/n.” he says finally when he reaches his hotel room.

fishing through your backpack for his keys you’re surprised when he holds your wrist to stop you

“listen to me.” he sounds calm but slightly on edge

“has zeke always said those things?”

twiddling your thumbs you awkwardly laugh

“well no, we used to be friends. remember how i told you ages ago? he was so cool back then and yeah i miss that zeke :-) but i don’t know what’s up with him.”

you’ve never really told anyone about how you feel about zeke’s hostility so you’re getting KINDA emotional right now thinking about the friend you miss

“i mean to ask, since you started coaching me has he always said that?”

“it was a bit before that but yeah. it’s no big deal at all. people change, zeke changed. i can’t do anything about it.”

moving to find his room keys again you don’t expect for him to hold his grasp

looking up at him there’s a look of simmering anger on his face

“why did you never tell me he said that about you?”

running a hand through your hair you’re only getting anxious having to deal with this in the middle of a hotel hallway

“levi. everyone says that about me. me and you are always together, all sorts of stupid rumours spread.”

“so why do you have to deal with all the malicious comments?? it’s unfa-”

“levi, the world has never been fair.”

handing him his keys he looks between you and them. he’s deciding if he wants to continue with his questioning

ultimately he decides he’s heard enough

a few hours have passed since the incident. neither you or levi have had the courage to come out of your separate rooms to discuss anything

you know you’re going to have to break the quiet and go through his possible press conference questions with him. even if you don’t want to this is your job after all.

so that’s how you end up sitting cross legged on his bed in your pyjamas. levi’s still in the shower so you’ve welcomed your self in. it’s common practice between the two of you to do so

after the one time he walked in on you naked…there’s practically nothing to hide from each other

scribbling a few ideas down onto your notepad you’re curious of what the press have in store for him this time

“yes exactly my thoughts” the sound of levi’s voice is coming from the bathroom, you suppose he’s had to take a business call and think nothing of it

“y/n?” he scoffs and you assume at first he’s calling out for you but then things take a turn for the worst

“sometimes i think about not having y/n coach me that’s all… there’s nothing wrong with that?”

oh.

so your suspicions were correct.

glancing down at the interview questions in your lap you jot down a note at the bottom

hey couldn’t stay for long but try to review the press conference questions on your own if you have the time! :-) much lov good luck, y/n !!!!

and then you retreat.

you don’t know if you make it up but you swear you hear knocking at your door during the night. you aren’t too sure but whatever it is disturbs your sleep.

stretching outside of your room the next morning you’re drowsy and beyond exhausted. you don’t even notice levi come outside.

one of his knuckles is rubbing at his bloodshot eyes. has he not slept well?

“i tried to wake you up but i guess you were asleep?” his statement comes out as a question. you’re not used to levi exhibiting much emotion at all and right now he seems unusually inquisitive.

“i was sleeping.” not even sparing him a second of your time you give him a rehearsed smile and walk off towards the hotel cafe

you can’t find the energy to even look at him

the hall is lined up with barricades to prevent possible assault or injury and you’re behind the stage with levi

the two of you have yet to say another word to each other since this morning. levi’s buttoning his shirt up and you’re looking around for his necktie. the least he can do after yesterday’s confrontation with zeke is to look presentable

“tie?” he asks over his shoulder

throwing it at him you hear a grunt of annoyance. he must have disliked that.

“can you help me with my cuff links?”

breathing out of your nose you feel anxious. you’ll have to get really close to him to do that.

but again you have to.

you take them from his hands and stand in front of him. you don’t really know how to go about this, what way is there for you to appropriately position yourself?

he’s sat on a backstage bench and checks the time on his phone “we’ve only got a few minutes left.” he’s clearly requesting that you hurry this up but you can’t seem to do it you’re completely frozen in place

“y/n, what’s wrong?” he asks

“nothing.”

he doesn’t have to know you know

“something’s wrong.”

“we’re in a hurry it doesn’t matter.” yanking him by his right sleeve you slot one of the cuff links through the slits in his shirt.

levi silently observes you fiddling with his sleeves, you can feel his stare burn into you. even as you’re moving onto the opposite side you can see from the corner of your eye that he hasn’t stopped staring

“was it something i said to you?” he asks again

a silence drags between the both of you and you debate on whether or not you’d like to enlighten levi with the information you obtained yesterday night

“more like something you didn’t say.” you finally respond.

thrusting his arm back at him his hand lands onto his lap and he opens his mouth to respond only to be cut off by an announcer

“THIS YEARS OLYMPUS RING CONTESTANTS MAY ENTER.”

crowds can be heard cheering outside but levi still hasn’t ripped his eyes off of you

“go on, maybe you’ll find a new coach after the press conference.” your bitter smile tells him all he has to know and his face visibly drops realizing what has happened

“i–”

“mr ackerman to the stage. i repeat mr ackerman to the stage!!”

he’s torn between staying behind and explaining himself or leaving to head towards one of the most important press conferences of his life

his teeth tug at his bottom lip as he looks between you and the entrance to the stage

“go levi.”

and he does.

levi’s sat on one of many chairs on the panel, he gulps taking a sip of water to calm his nerves. he’s not even nervous about the press conference, that can wait. he doesn’t know how much you’ve heard and how much you’ve misinterpreted what he’s said

he finds it weird at first that he’s even worried because you and him have a professional relationship

but then he has to stop himself from smacking the back of his own head. he knows that much isn’t true, hell if it was a strictly professional relationship he wouldn’t be walking around shirtless to get your attention

he wouldn’t lace his fingers with yours when he was nervous either

he wouldn’t let you tend to his injuries and scold him if this was about being professional, he doesn’t tolerate being scolded by anyone but if it’s you he’ll take it

when it’s you scolding him for fucking up one of his fists it feels okay, it feels right. he feels warm inside knowing that you have to care for him if you get that angry

he sighs feeling exasperated waiting for the last person to join the panel and get this question and answers segment over and done with

zeke makes his obnoxiously late appearance but levi doesn’t have it in him to roll his eyes. evidently he’s still stuck on you and thinking about apologizing as soon as this is finished

zeke sits right next to levi and some members of the crowd whisper amongst themselves

“have they made up?”

“think there’s gonna be another brawl??”

“i hope not they’re both my favourites…”

one of the reporters right in front of the stage but behind the barricades is the first to speak

“as we all know there has been an unmistakable sense of tension between two of the most promising contenders this year. mr ackerman and mr yaeger. would you like to put the rumours at rest?”

the question makes levi clench his jaw, zeke rolls his hands into two fists feeling just as frustrated. this is boxing not a reality tv show who cares what the terms of their long broken friendship are?

zeke nudges levi’s knee with his and levi returns the movement.

for now they’ll call a truce. it seems that both he and zeke have more pressing matters to attend to

“me and levi are bros. i’m frankly upset such a rumour started in the first place!” the crowd is mumbling again and the reporter himself is stunned by the unexpected response

“i admit that a fight which some may have saw yesterday was my fault. i had made some inappropriate comments towards his coach to get at him. it was a malicious move on my part and i hope people don’t think him and i are mortal enemies because of this bump in the road.”

zeke is so well spoken when he wants to be that levi feels self conscious sitting there having said nothing.

“mr ackerman? would you like to comment or?”

levi’s eyes light up, this is an opportunity to have you hear him. he doesn’t have to wait to explain when he can throw hints right now. you may be giving him the silent treatment but you wouldn’t miss this press conference for the world

sitting up in his chair and clearing his throat levi looks directly into one of the cameras pointed at him. he’s sure you’ll be able to see him from backstage.

“me and zeke have no other disputes apart from that i assure you. i simply value my coach greatly and so i acted rashly yesterday.”

the reporter nods along feeling pleased with the answer.

a few more questions are thrown around to the other contestants, levi sits there bored out of his mind until at the last minute before everything is just about to wrap up he’s asked a question once again

“regarding your coach, have you thought of a replacement if you win the championship?”

levi presses his lips together not understanding the question

“why would i replace my current coach?” where on earth has this question even come from??

“rumours have been flying around regarding lack of experience and the fact you’re outgrowing each other now. it’s all over boxing discussion forums.”

your hands are embarrassingly shoved into your pockets as people pass behind you backstage offering you pitiful looks. maybe wearing your bright pink team ackerman tracksuit wasn’t the best choice because everyone can hear what’s going on up front

levi’s memory flashes back to the number of times you hid your phone behind your back and awkwardly chuckled saying nothing was bothering you. he understands what you were hiding now

his mouth twists into a scowl, he knows you’re a few meters away listening to all of this and hearing it coming out of a stranger’s mouth is probably upsetting you

“i plan to stick with my coach till the day i die.”

you sit up not believing what you heard, it entirely contradicts what you heard last night

some journalists are jotting down notes, members of the audience are leaning forward listening intently

“well, why is that?” the reporter presses on

levi twirls a pen around in his hands staring off into the crowd.

“i don’t think anyone else could tolerate me.

you bite back a laugh because you know that’s true :-)

“they’re a person who saw potential in me when no one else did.”

he chuckles to himself. “your stamina it’s great!” his witty imitation of you is rather accurate

“that was the first thing coach ever said to me.” he pauses allowing himself to reminisce.

“but i did want to drop my coach the other day.” he admits.

hearing him confess to it should make you mad, you should be pissed off right now but you can’t manage to feel that way at all

“i said it because i wanted them to relax. i never really understood the magnitude of the criticism they were receiving until recently.”

levi’s staring directly at the camera and his eyes pierce into yours, it’s as if he’s actually looking right at you

“i’d be lost without them, so i want to say to the one person rooting for me backstage, thank you for everything you do for me :-)”

you’re covering your face with your hands feeling the blush creep up your cheeks now. GOD what is he doing??? you may as well be the same colour as your tracksuit, you’ve never heard him be this sentimental in his entire life

“so no, i won’t be replacing my coach any time soon. if anything i should worry about my coach replacing me.”

levi ackerman...

he’s a HUGE idiot if he thinks you’ve ever thought of seriously replacing him

levi presses his arms against your sides when you’re both alone and in the solitude of his hotel room.

“i’m sorry for thinking you wanted to fire me.“ you mumble it into his chest feeling much too embarrassed to look up at him and say it

“also i may as well say this now but i have a fat, massive, huge crush on you “

after that you awkwardly laugh to yourself. you both kinda stare at each other and you’re meant to regret telling him how you feel right now but you don’t. having that weight lifted off your shoulders feels amazing.

"you don’t have to like me back or anything and i know you don’t like me back obviously you probably like that one actress- what was her name?? the one with the long black hair she gave you her number at a fundraiser dinner. you’d both look cute together, have i said that??”

levi gives you a blank look

“i threw her number away.”

you’re open mouthed feeling completely shocked, she’s gorgeous??

“HUH?? HELLO WHY? LEVI ACKERMAN, HAVE YOU EVEN SEEN HER??”

“i have but is she you?”

the all too familiar words from years ago ring in your ears

nostalgia hits the both of you in waves and levi takes you in for another hug. your heart hammers in your chest and with your face pressed against him once again you can feel the irregular beat of his heart too.

that is when you and levi formally meet for the second time. this time you are but an experienced coach and he, an experienced boxer.

:-)

287 notes · View notes

andrea-lyn · 3 years

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The Recs (Less Travelled)

I’m excited to bring you the first installment of my ‘roads less travelled’ recs! I will be doing another round of this, probably once the Ted Lasso fic tag hits about 25 pages, and then I’ll also grab a couple more fandoms to collect in there!

The Rules:

Each fandom/pairing was sorted on Archive of Our Own by completed works. Anything recced here was not in the first ten pages when sorted by kudos at the time of reccing. There may be some more well-known authors on this list, but the specific fics I’ve picked are ones that didn’t crack that top ten or just didn’t get much traction and I think deserve it, so hopefully I have also balanced it out with other under the radar (and still great!) works. As ever, I have a pinned post of my other recs (none have been duplicated from there), so you can also check those out! Under the cut you’ll find 10 recs in each fandom for:

Raven Cycle

Roswell New Mexico

The Old Guard

Inception

Star Trek (mainly Kirk/McCoy)

The Raven Cycle

savor all the little pieces by littlelionvanz

“Since when do you garden?”

Ronan snorted, “Since I grew up on a fucking farm, genius. Jesus who gave you permission to pursue higher education.”

the old grip of the familiar by littleseal

"There is a single black feather and a printed out picture of Gansey, Blue and Cheng standing in front of some fucking monument Ronan didn’t care enough to remember the name of. Gansey sent it to Ronan’s phone some time ago, but it sat in his messages until Adam picked it up and grinned at it so hard that, one afternoon later, Ronan cursed and kicked and glared his old printer back to life in order to print it out.

Fuck, he thinks, I’m in love with a hoarder."

Adam collects things. Ronan is in love with him.

No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin by gansey_is_our_king

Ronan Lynch has wanted to kiss Adam Parrish for a long time.

(alternately titled: four times that Ronan could have kissed Adam)

Cheers to Another Seven Years! by skyermirth

Adam left Henrietta for Harvard and never returned. Now, seven years has passed, and an unexpected work assignment has brought him back to a place and people he hardly recognizes.

Row, row, row your boat by emmerrr

“What. Why are you smiling at me,” he says suspiciously.

Adam shrugs. “You’re cute.”

“I’m not cute, I’m terrifying.”

“Terrifyingly cute,” Adam says.

and now the world is ours to take / and every single move is ours to make by thatlittleblackcat

"Adam was the scientist, Ronan was the data, and Orphan Girl was the key that explained the strange outliers that Ronan presented, his previously unexplainable actions."

Adam sorts out his feelings, Ronan helps him, Gansey is the number one dad friend, Blue is the number one mom friend and Henry tries to make Ronan smile. Otherwise known as the story of how Orphan Girl became Opal.

All These Things You Make Me Feel by SilverOpals394

It was late. Adam could feel the long day catching up to him as he left Boyd’s, all his energy exhausted. When he started his car, the tape deck whirred to life once more. He sighed and raised his hand to turn it off, but before he did a soft melody began to play.

AU in which the mixtape Ronan made for Adam only plays the murder squash song until Adam realizes he's in love with Ronan, too.

Ways to Communicate by Jalules

Blue Sargent reflects on an early memory (and gets busy with her boyfriends.)

(The two things are related, trust me.)

Hold Me Closer, I'm Safe in Your Arms by actuallyronanlynch

“You wanna tell me why I had to hear from Henry Cheng that my boyfriend was at the hospital?” Adam hissed, though his voice wasn’t as acidic as it could’ve been. Ronan took small victories where he could.

“You don’t have a cellphone,” Ronan pointed out flatly. “It’s not like I could’ve gotten a hold of you.”

arts and crafts and the inevitability of death by sunshineinthestorm

Adam comes to the public library in search of a study spot, not a boyfriend.

But it must be his lucky day—because he ends up with a bit of both.

Roswell New Mexico

a conversation between insignificant others by Bellakitse

“Hey…have you noticed that our boyfriends are madly in love with each other?"

“You noticed that too, huh,” she answers dryly, letting out a huff of reluctant amusement.

***

Forrest and Maria share a drink and a conversation and start a friendship.

Own Personal Hell by BeStillMySlashyHeart

Now that Isobel's getting the hang of her telekinesis, Michael decides to test out his telepathic abilities. It backfires. Badly. Now Michael's trapped inside his own mind and only one person can break him out.

Drop the Hammer by brightloveee

Max makes a new friend at the shooting range, who turns out to be even more bad-ass than he expected.

(Takes place mid-S1)

Boys Like You by forgadgetsandgizmos

Curly, dirty blond hair (the mere description ‘curly’ felt like an injustice) twisted in every direction off his head, a sharp contrast with the scruff darkening his strong jawline and scowl-ridden face.

Alex made a mental note to compliment Maria on her excellent taste in men.

—

Or, Alex has coffee with Maria's one-night stand, a man who he definitely does not have a crush on.

let's exchange the experience by lostin_space

Michael decides they need to quarantine.

Michael floods Alex with love and care over and over and over.

This Is Hardcore by Anonymous

Michael makes a proposal. Alex accepts. Michael wonders what the hell he’s gotten himself into.

i don't know what to think (but i think of supernovas) by Milzilla

michael discovers that the console can talk. then, he discovers it can do far more than that.

iridescence on skin by Lire_Casander

In a world where (almost) everyone has a tattoo on their right wrist with one set of coordinates that point to the place where their soulmate is born, Alex thought he wouldn't be any different. He couldn't be more mistaken.

He has two.

The Real Thing by elliebird

Max checks on Michael the morning after Michael saves Max’s ass from Wyatt Long and his dumbass buddies. He sees more than he’s supposed to.

Written for a Tumblr anon who one of their friends walking in on them or anyone of them finding out about Michael and Alex in an interesting way

Sundering by romancandles

“You know it was just an Air Force balloon, right?” says Alex.

Michael smirks. “That’s what they want you to think,” he says, with a wink.

The Old Guard

Peer Reviewed by ishandahalf

[From:] Journal of Medieval Studies ([email protected])

[Subject:] Ad-hoc note from the editor

I have noticed an uncommon level of animosity in your responses to your reviewers (or rather, one reviewer in particular). I am writing to ask if you would please do your best to keep your interactions civil. In fairness, I have also sent a similar request to the reviewer you seem to have this friction with. I trust you will both try and remain more professional in the future.

Again, thank you for submitting your work to this journal.

Sincerely,

James Copley, PhD

Editor-in-Chief

Journal of Medieval Studies

An (accidental) academic epistolary romance as (inadvertently) documented via a (theoretically) rigorously blinded peer review process.[citation needed]

third for a word and the song keeps going Macremae

It was honestly shaping up to be a pretty uneventful year before the Vatican got on Nicky’s bad side.

Or: three times in 2008 that the team genuinely thought about killing Nicky if only to get him to shut up about the changes to the Catholic English Mass and his unrelenting opinions on them, and one time Nile did.

Apex Predators In Island Ecosystems (Freeman et al., in press) by Sixthlight

Palaeobotany PhD student Nile Freeman and her supervisor Joe al-Kaysani are invited to billionaire Stephen Merrick’s new project – a theme park full of cloned dinosaurs. What could possibly go wrong?

This Rough Magic by Marivan

When Joe came to Scotland to study the sea, he did not expect to also encounter a beautiful man claiming that A. he’s a selkie and B. they’re married because Joe picked up his scarf.

It sounds like a fairy tale and that’s a problem. Because Joe’s a scientist. And selkies don’t exist.

Wars for the broken by Yuliares

Five years into his exile, Booker is joined by a companion he never expected to meet. Together, they try to work on healing.

Sometimes they go down to the sewers just so she can scream and scream. “I like to hear it echo,” she explains. “Underwater, you can’t hear anything. Here, at least I can be heard.”

“I don’t feel like a warrior anymore,” she tells him, throwing bread crumbs at pigeons. “I feel broken.”

“You’re still a warrior,” he says roughly. “This is still fighting.”

a good (eighth) impression by deanniker

Over the next few months, Joe runs into Nicky every so often at the farmer’s market. Some weekends Nicky doesn’t make it, because of his work schedule - Joe doesn’t understand it because he doesn’t ask, though he does start to recognize when one of those missing weekends is coming up because Nicky will stock up on things with longer shelf-life. When they do run into each other, they make small talk and move through the stalls together.

Joe doesn’t mention it to Lykon when he stops by, because it is kind of weird, that Lykon’s ex-boyfriend texts Joe things like - If you’re here, the apples look particularly good this week and thank you for that recipe, I did not know what I was going to do with that much couscous

Or,

Joe wouldn't usually consider starting anything with his best friend's ex, but as long as they keep it casual, it shouldn't be weird... right?

get back to where you once belonged by tenderjock

Nile takes a sip of her cappuccino and closes her eyes.

(Booker and Nile get that coffee. Life happens, along the way.)

a house; a home by mehm

“Is this a kidnapping?” Joe asks as Nicky checks both their seat belts. “Like, I don’t mind. It’s just not quite what I expected for my birthday.”

In which Joe gets a birthday surprise, because that’s the stuff you have time for when you and the love of your life become mortal at the same time.

the ties that bind by damaskrose

“There’s a story I heard many times,” Andy begins, “in the Mediterranean. Threads of fate and three sisters. One to spin, one to measure, and one to cut.”

Clutter And Croutons by flawedamythyst

Joe and Nicky have an argument, and then Nicky talks to Nile about what it really means to be in a relationship for 900 years.

Inception

My Big Fat Slightly Annoying Wedding by jibrailis

Arthur and Eames elope for ~tax reasons. Certain people in their lives are not happy at the lack of a wedding.

Remember Sydney by pathera

When Eames shambles into the safe house outside of London, he finds a red light blinking on the phone.

For the inception_kink prompt:

Arthur is on a plane which is about to crash. No way anyone is going to survive. Instead of panicking he calmly calls the team's office and gets the answering machine. He hangs up before the plane crashes.

Give me Arthur's last message to the team.

(TW: Character Death / Angst)

Of Such Deceitfulness and Suavity by delires

In which emotions manifest themselves in unusual ways.

YO, K2tog (it's like a code) by lazulisong

“Oh my God,” moans Arthur. “I’ve paid less for Somnacin. Good Somnacin.” A horrible thought strikes him. “How much is the yarn --”

“I want you to have an unguarded reaction,” Eames tells him, and pulls him up from the floor.

(They run an extraction on a knitter.)

hit the ground running by orphan_account

"I travelled halfway around the world for you. I dealt with the French for you."

Valley by wldnst

It's an old story: a knight, a prince, a kingdom in peril.

If This Is Rain Let It Fall On Me and Drown Me by Brangwen

We used to be so brave, Eames thought. Of the two of them, Arthur had always been the more fearless.

a gentle familiarity by jollypuppet

Two weeks later, Eames is on his doorstep with bad Italian takeout and a grin, and Arthur tells him he can sleep on the couch.

Your Crisis Cannot Be Completed As Dialed by sevenimpossiblethings

Arthur doesn't do snow, Ariadne is determined to be as Midwestern as possible, and blizzards make cell phone service unreliable.

Let’s Say I Do (I Do) by xsilverdreamsx

There were, perhaps some things worse that this, Arthur thinks, as he glares at the letter in his hand with his name printed clearly in bold ink, indicating his presence in two weeks for his esteemed marriage to one William H. Eames, III, at St. Catherine's Church in London, England.

Star Trek (predominantly Kirk/McCoy)

Show the World That Something Good Can Work by knune

Leonard McCoy is a doctor, not a personal assistant, and maybe that's why he can't stand working for Jim Kirk.

It's in the little things by winterover

Bones is bemused by a persistent secret admirer.

"Wedding" Away with It by pendrogon

One morning, Bones wakes up and he's single. By the same afternoon, he's married to Jim Kirk for Arbitrary Fic Reasons(TM).

How Long Will You Stay (For Your Whole Life) by withthepilot

Jim Kirk, deputy director of the Enterprise parks and recreation department, sees all of his hard work fall to pieces when budget specialist Leonard McCoy arrives from the state capital to cut Jim's budget and threaten the livelihoods of his colleagues. But thanks to a major parks project, Leonard finds a place in the department, as well as in Jim's life—and when all is said and done, Jim doesn't want him to leave.

All-Time Favorite by mardia

What to do when your best friend suddenly starts making new friends.

Joy Ride by Cards_Slash

While running for their lives from an alien species Kirk had accidentally enraged, they come across a car. And well, if you were to come across a car while being chased by aliens that wanted you dead, and you possessed some lingering knowledge of how to drive a car similar to said car, you would have decided to drive it toward the nearest cliff too.

Also a gunfight.

Syncytia by epistolic

He’d signed up for Starfleet on an impulse, but Starfleet meant James Tiberius Kirk: the first – and second, and third, and fourth – big mistake of Leonard McCoy’s life.

Renovation by canistakahari

Jim has a whammy put on him by an alien death ray and he suddenly craves domesticity. He's crazy with longing to shop at space!Ikea and get potted bamboo and he starts looking into adopting AND HE HATES HIMSELF AND CANNOT CONTROL THE SHIT. Luckily, McCoy is drunk all the time and plays house.

17:08 by butterflycell

She'd watched the news holos with a sick feeling, searching for information that was completely obvious in its absence. Amidst the reports of the the Enterprise's miraculous recovery and the damages sustained, there had been next to nothing about the crew or her captain. Jim had been mentioned only in passing, his name shied away from as his first officer limited interaction to the bare essentials.

The Honey of Hybla by shrift

"Bones, prepare to be my date."

#recs #fic recs #recs project #star trek recs #inception recs #the raven cycle recs #the old guard recs #roswell new mexico recs

54 notes · View notes

starshine583 · 4 years

Text

New Girl on the Block (3)

(Hey guys! finally got around to posting chapter three of this! There’s a second, mini series connected to this that’s called Journal Entries. You don’t have to read it to understand the plot, but I felt like it would be fun to write so enjoy it if you like!)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 4

Chapter 3: There’s a First Time for Everything

Adrien tapped his pencil against his notebook paper and nestled his cheek into his open palm with a sigh. It’s been a little over a week since Marinette exchanged schools, and he’s yet to talk with her about it. He tried visiting her the day Ms. Bustier informed them of the transfer, but Marinette wasn’t home. Naturally, he tried again the next day and actually managed to catch her, but then she ran off. Ran off! Adrien still couldn’t believe it. Why would she run from him?

“Dude, you okay?” Nino asked, giving him a light nudge.

Adrien straightened slightly. “Ah, yeah, just.. Just thinking.”

Alya scoffed behind him. “Don’t tell me you’re still moping about Marinette.”

Needless to say, the class didn’t exactly share Adrien’s sentiment about Marinette’s leaving. With all of Lila’s stories circling around, they were overjoyed that the “bully” was gone. Alya was low-key furious, ranting about “injustices” and “letting Marinette run from the consequences of her actions”, but other than that, everyone was pleased with the outcome.

Everyone except Adrien.

Adrien knew better. The class may think that they’re better off without the bluenette, but he knew for certain that they were all going to drown without her. Marinette organized the budgets, supplied the goods for bake sales, signed off all of the paperwork for their trips- she even made dresses for the girls on special occasions. They needed her. That’s why he had to get her back. If only he could find time out of his packed schedule to visit her again..

“Alright, everyone, settle down.” Ms. Bustier spoke up. “The results for the new class president are in.”

Adrien sunk further into his seat. Ah, yes. The new class president, another reason Marinette should have stayed. With her gone, they had to make an impromptu election. Chloe, of course, ran again, but Lila decided to run as well. With the class’ obvious loyalty towards Lila, it’s a wonder Ms. Bustier didn’t announce the brunette as the president right there and save everyone the trouble.

Ms. Bustier pulled out a small card with the results and cleared her throat. “With a near-unanimous vote, the new class president will be Lila Rossi.”

The class cheered, and Lila gasped as if she hadn’t expected this to happen.

“Thank you all so much!” She beamed.

Alya slung her arm around Lila’s shoulders. “You deserve it, girl.”

Chloe scoffed from her seat and crossed her arms, but no one acknowledged the show of disdain. They were too busy congratulating their beloved Lila.

“Congratulations Lila. You can visit Marinette after school to get the paperwork from her.” Ms. Bustier said, setting her cards aside.

Adrien straightened. Someone had to go visit Marinette? “I’ll do it!”

The classroom paused at the outburst.

“Oh, Adrien you don’t have to do that for me.” Lila remarked with a grateful tone.

“Oh, no, it’s my pleasure.” Adrien was quick to reply.

A hint of annoyance flicked across Lila’s features, but it quickly vanished when Alya said, “Yeah, Lila, you shouldn’t have to suffer through that.”

A smile forced its way onto the Italian girl’s lips. “Thanks, but I think it’s only right that I meet with her in person. Class president to Class president and all.”

Alya frowned. “Well, at least let me go with you. I don’t want her trying to pull anything.”

“Oh, Alya,” Lila sighed, patting the red-head’s hand, “It’s just a small visit. I’m sure Marinette and I can be civil about this.”

Alya reluctantly agreed, but if anyone had actually been paying attention, they might have seen Lila’s smirk.

~~~~~~

The soft rhythm of Felix and Allegra’s instruments floated around the music room as they played. Marinette never imagined the violin and the flute sounding well together, but the way Felix and Allegra harmonized had her swaying back and forth with the melody. It was a lovely song, and she couldn’t help closing her eyes to fully relish the masterpiece.

Her eyes snapped open a second later, though, as her entire body jolted from the large calamity of piano keys that was suddenly pounded on by Claude. Felix startled as well, his violin flying off key, and Allegra nearly dropped her flute.

“Again, Claude?” Allegra sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

Claude leaned back on the piano stool with his palms and flashed them an innocent smile. “What? I was only helping.”

Marinette held back a smile, but Felix wasn’t amused.

“I told you to stop doing that.” He scolded with a scowl. “You’re going to get our music room privileges revoked!”

“Good. You guys practice too much, anyway.”

Allegra gave Claude a flat look. “We need to practice if we’re going to get better.”

“But you already sound great.”

“Because we practice.” Felix replied pointedly.

Marinette subtly nodded in agreement. She didn’t want to get directly involved in their arguments, as that never seemed to go well.

Claude huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Waste your time on endless practice. I’m gonna do something more productive with my time.”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”

Claude turned to lay across the piano bench while throwing Marinette a smile. “Like making croissants! We’re still coming to your house, right?”

Marinette returned his smile, secretly relieved that he didn’t ask her to do something outrageous like going to chase pigeons around the park while on roller blades. (Yes, that’s happened several times in the past week, and yes, each time she’s said no.)

“Yeah, but you guys are coming over tomorrow.” She told him.

He pumped a fist into the air. “Yes! I can’t wait!!”

“Neither can I.” Allegra admitted. “Your parents sound splendid.”

Marinette’s smile widened. “I’m sure you’ll all get along great.”

“Yes, I’m sure.. If we can practice enough to go straight to your house after classes tomorrow.” Felix remarked, shooting Claude another look.

Claude tisked, waving a hand at him. “Yeah, yeah. Get back to your music already.”

Allegra gave a short laugh, sarcastically stating, “Oh, thank you so much. I was wondering when you would give us permission to play.”

“I know, I’m such a generous person.” Claude joked back.

Allegra playfully rolled her eyes and held up her flute to resume playing. Felix followed along, and Marinette went back to swaying as their song continued.

The familiar ring of the customer bell brought a smile to Marinette’s lips as she opened the bakery door.

Her mother, Sabine, looked up from the cashier desk with a warm smile. “Marinette! How was music practice?”

“It was wonderful, Maman. Felix and Allegra play beautifully.” Marinette answered as she walked inside. She set her bag next to the counter and gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek. “Is everything ready for them to come over tomorrow?”

Sabine nodded. “Tom’s got the ingredients and tables ready for when they get here. He’s so excited to meet them, and so am I.”

Marinette chuckled. “They’re excited to meet you guys too.”

Sabine’s smile widened at the comment, but then her expression darkened as she said, “Hopefully they’re not two-faced and backstabbing like your previous classmates.”

Marinette gasped. “Mom!”

“Well, it’s true!” Sabine replied defensively.

It was true, but that didn’t mean Marinette was any less surprised to hear her maman talk that way. Of course, Sabine did tend to speak her mind when Marinette’s feelings were involved.

Before she could respond, the doorbell rang again, signaling a new customer’s arrival. Marinette turned with her mother to offer them a greeting, but stopped short when she saw exactly who the new customer was.

Lila Rossi stood in the doorway, a smug smirk on her lips as she eyed Marinette up and down. “I see you’re doing well.”

Sabine was in front of Marinette in the blink of an eye. “You are not welcome in this bakery. Leave immediately before I call the cops.”

A look of feigned hurt crossed the Italian girl’s expression. “How rude! I only came here per Mme Bustier’s request. I have to get the formal papers from our previous class president.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes, stepping around Sabine with crossed arms. “I suppose you’re the new class president then?”

Lila’s smile returned, sharp and triumphant. “By a near-unanimous vote. Alya is still the deputy though, since she practically begged me to let her help.”

Marinette’s lips tightened into a thin line. That sounded about right. “How nice for you. You two really do deserve each other.”

When Lila first came around, Marinette had been torn and heartbroken about her friends abandoning her for a stranger. It didn’t help that Adrien kept assuring her that everything would be fine, that they didn’t mean what they said. He gave her false hope, and it made it all the harder to find the courage to leave.

Now, she’s realized how toxic her old environment had become, and though it still hurt her to think about it, Marinette knew she couldn’t let them affect her anymore.

Lila faltered at Marinette’s uncaring tone. “Uh.. right. Where are those papers again?”

“Up in my room.” Marinette moved towards the stairs, bringing Sabine back behind the counter as she did. “I’ll go get them now.”

“Good.” Lila said, sounding satisfied. “I’ll be waiting outside, but don’t take your time. I’m supposed to go meet Alya and the girls for a girl’s night out.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at the obvious jab, but continued up the stairs anyway. The sooner she got the papers, the sooner that lying leech could leave.

She swiftly ran up to her room and gathered the papers to stuff them into the large, blue binder she’d been given only two semesters ago. It sunk into her arms as she picked it up, and the sheer weight of the packed binder made her smile as she brought it back outside, especially when she saw Lila’s panicked expression.

“Um.. What is that?” The brunette asked, pointed at the binder.

“Oh, this?” Marinette replied innocently. “This is just the binder that holds all the formal papers you need. Being class president takes a lot of work you know.”

Lila nearly toppled over when Marinette dropped the binder into her arms.

“That’s allergies, budgets, complaints, schedules, and trips!” Marinette told her with a grin. “But don’t forget to give Mme Bustier and Principle Damocles the proper reports each semester.”

Lila shot her a scowl, but quickly recovered, slipping on a smile of her own. “No need to be petty, Marinette. It’s fine to admit you’re breaking inside. Losing all your friends can be a hard thing to go through.”

Marinette’s grin faded slightly, knowing that Lila was right. She’d lost everything. All of her childhood friends, her crush, her fun teachers, anything she used to hold dear.

But maybe that was a good thing.

“Have fun sorting through the binder.” She said, spinning on her heel and walking inside. She had better things to do than listen to someone who had to lie just to get people to like them.

The bakery door closed behind her, and Marinette saw Lila leave out of the corner of her eye, taking the painful memories with her.

~~~~~~

Friday afternoon. 4:45pm.

Felix stared at the bakery door, unsure how to proceed. The group had originally agreed to walk straight to Marinette’s house after school, but they changed the plan last minute to come back at five, an hour after school ended. It gave Marinette’s parents time to finish up the preparations, and the rest of the group time to drop off their school bags at their homes.

Felix, as usual, arrived at the Dupain-Cheng’s early, but now he was doubting his actions. On one hand, he would get to meet the Dupain-Cheng’s without the chaos that the trio tended to bring. It would be a nice way for him to get a quick impression of the family over-all.

On the other hand, he’s at Marinette’s house before the time she specifically told them to come, which could be considered rude in some cases. Should he go inside or wait in a nearby cafe?

After a few more minutes of debating, Felix stepped forward and knocked on the door. If they really needed him to wait until five, he would apologize and come back in ten minutes. The opportunity to meet the Dupain-Cheng’s on a one-on-one basis was too good to pass up.

It only took a moment for the door to open, and a short, asain woman greeted him with a sweet smile. “Hello! I’m assuming you’re one of Marinette’s friends from school?”

Felix nodded, noting her raven hair that matched Marinette’s perfectly. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Felix.”

He stiffened slightly when she reached forward to take his hand in both of hers. “It’s great to finally meet you! Marinette has told us so much about you all.”

A small smile passed his lips. For some reason, that knowledge gave him a satisfied feeling. Assuming that the talk was good, that is. “She’s talked a lot about you as well. I’m assuming you’re Mme Dupain-Cheng?”

The woman waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please, call me Sabine.”

‘Sabine’ showed him inside, where baked goods lined the walls in glass cases. Claude was going to lose his mind when he got here. The overwhelming scent of vanilla and cinnamon alone was going to be enough to make the brunette’s mouth water.

“This is my husband, Tom.” Sabine introduced, gesturing to a tall, burly man at the cashier desk. “Tom, this is one of Marinette’s friends, Felix.”

Felix would be lying if he said he wasn’t intimidated by the man. His head almost grazed the ceiling as he approached them, making Sabine look like a dwarf in comparison. Felix felt like a dwarf in comparison.

Tom offered a wide, hearty grin, though that didn’t help Felix’s unease. “Ah, Felix! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!”

The man scooped Felix up into a bear hug, squeezing him tightly to his chest. Felix would have replied to his greeting had he been able to breathe.

“Oh, Papa!”

Felix glanced over Tom’s shoulder- he’d been raised that high -and saw Marinette standing in another doorway behind the cashier counter, a slight cringe in her expression.

“Papa, put poor Felix down before he passes out from lack of oxygen!” She insisted, walking forward to tug on her father’s arm.

“Oh that’s.. That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” Felix wheezed as Tom set him down.

Marinette’s hands hovered around him for a moment, then she nervously clasped them together. “I-I’m so sorry, I should have warned you. I thought I was going to be down here when you guys arrived.”

Felix shook his head and bent over slightly to catch his breath. “No, no, you’re fine. They actually remind me of my own mother. She’s a rather adamant hugger herself.”

A relieved smile came to Marinette’s lips. “Really? I didn’t think anyone could be as ‘homely’ as my parents.”

Felix chuckled, but the customer bell jingled again before he could reply. Claude sauntered inside a second later, his arms spread as wide as his grin.

“We’re here~!” The brunette sang, looking around the shop. His gaze found Felix’s flat one almost immediately.

“Hey!” Claude gasped, pointing accusingly at Felix. “He beat us here!”

Allegra stepped out from behind Claude, wearing a curious expression. That quickly changed to knowing smirk, though, as she shot him a playfully scolding look. “Why, Felix! I’m surprised at you! You should know more than anyone how rude it is to arrive at someone’s house early.”

Felix grimaced at the reminder of his bad manners and quickly turned to apologize.

“Oh don’t be silly!” Sabine said before he could get a word out. “Any friends of Marinette are friends of ours. You guys are welcome here anytime.”

Claude lit up at the sentiment. “I’m gonna be here a lot then.”

Allan popped out from behind Claude and Allegra. “Thank you for hosting us, M. and Mme Dupain-Cheng.”

Felix held back a smirk. He’d wondered when Allan would show himself.

“Please, call us Tom and Sabine.” Tom replied in a casual, yet booming voice. It highly contradicted his wife and daughter, who tended to speak in soft tones. “Follow me. I’ll show you where the kitchen is.”

The group was led into a room in the back where three islands stood in the center, each equally parted from each other. A large counter lined the wall to the left as well, and two, large ovens sat on each end of said counter.

“Do you guys want to start from scratch or start with pre-made dough?” Tom asked.

“Oh! Scratch! I want to be able to make these at home!” Claude answered eagerly.

Tom smiled. “Alright! Scratch it is. Everyone take the needed ingredients on the counter.”

The group took a moment to pass around the items, then they separated to find a counter. Allan took the first counter with Tom, and Allegra and Claude stole the last counter, leaving the middle counter for Marinette and Felix.

“I’m glad you guys got to come.” Marinette commented as they aligned their ingredients on the shared countertop.

Felix nodded. “I think Claude’s going to get a sugar-crash before we leave.”

Marinette snorted. “With all of those baked goods in the other room? I’d be surprised if he makes it to supper.”

Felix spared her a glance. “Are we staying for supper?”

Marinette paused, having to think out her answer. She must not have noticed the implication when she said it. “Uh.. I mean.. I wouldn’t mind. Do you guys want to stay for supper?”

Felix shrugged, though the idea sounded perfect. It would give him more time to understand the Dupain-Cheng’s lifestyle. “I’m sure Allegra and Claude will be ecstatic over the news. I’d have to contact my mother about the change in schedule, though.”

“Oh, were you planning something with her tonight?” Marinette asked, worry lacing her tone. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.” Felix hastily amended. “I simply need to tell my mother that I won’t be home for supper tonight. We always have a family dinner when everyone is available.”

“And you won’t miss it?”

“Well, it sounds like it’s a special occasion, but everyone’s available more often than you’d expect.”

Marinette tilted her head up and mouthed an ‘oh’. “I’ll tell Maman that you’re staying, then. She was sort of planning supper for all of you anyway.”

Felix smiled. Given the daily croissants that the group’s received since their first lunch with Marinette, that didn’t surprise him. Mme Sabine had proven to be an extremely kind and charitable person, much like her daughter.

Tom, once his own ingredients were in order, regained the room’s attention and began showing them how to make the croissants. Because he was in the front, it was easy to see how the ingredients were supposed to be thrown in and follow along. That said, Felix found himself extremely grateful to have Marinette as a partner. Her little tips on how to mix the dough helped him immensely, especially since she told him when his mixing was sufficient.

“Alright,” Tom sighed as he set his bowl to the side, “Now that the dough is done, we’re going to start the hard part. Everyone needs to get some flour so we can start rolling the dough and folding it. Marinette, if you would.”

Marinette sprang from her place next to Felix and crossed the room to a cabinet. She pulled it open and grabbed a large bag of flour that appeared to be at least a fourth full, then carried it to the long counter against the wall and set it down with a huff.

“Here’s the flour that you all are going to be using.” Tom explained. “That should be plenty, but if you need more-”

A light knock on the doorframe ahead of them caused Tom to trail off. Felix glanced at the door to see Mme Sabine standing there, holding a sheepish smile.

“Tom, dear. I know you’re busy, but could you help me with this customer real quick?” She asked politely. “They’re being.. difficult.”

Felix noted the sharpness of her smile, along with the iron grip she had on the doorframe. It appeared that the sweet, loving mother also had a temperance, though he didn’t blame her. Customers had a tendency to be massive pains for retail workers. (That included himself on a few shameful occasions.)

M. Tom’s nervous smile said it all as he joined his wife at the door. “Oh, of course. Uh.. children, just- just keep doing what you’re doing. Marinette will show you how to roll the dough if necessary.”

The parents left the room, causing the rest of the group to turn to Marinette for instruction.

Marinette, who had returned to Felix’s side by that point, shrank slightly at the sudden attention. “Oh, uhm.. Do any of you know how to fold dough?”

A short laugh came from Allegra in the back. “Mari, I’m quite certain that none of us have even touched uncooked food before.”

“That’s the price you pay for being rich.” Allan agreed, putting a hand to his chest and shaking his head with feigned grief.

Felix opted not to comment. His mother rather enjoyed cooking, much to their butler’s dismay. She often cooked their family meals, and every now and then, Felix found himself helping. “It’s a necessary skill.” she would tell him. “Your future wife will thank me and so will you.”

Why his mother assumed he would be able to tolerate anyone long enough to marry them was beyond him.

“Oh, how horrible for you.” Marinette retorted with a playful eye roll. “I guess I’ll show you how to fold dough then. For your sakes.”

“We are forever grateful.” Claude joked.

Marinette laughed and scooped up her bowl, bringing it to the front with Allan for all of them to see.

“Now, everyone needs to get some flour. We’ll start with Claude and Allegra getting some. That way, the flour will work its way to the front by the time we’re done.” She instructed.

Felix nodded. That sounded like a reasonable plan.

Claude walked over to grab the bag as told and hauled it back to his and Allegra’s table. “How much are we going to need?”

“Oh, not much.” Marinette answered. “You only need some on the table and some on the dou- Claude, wait!”

Claude tipped the bag of flour upwards, expecting it to slide smoothly onto the table. Instead, the flimsy ingredient smacked into the table in a large clump, causing white dust to explode into the air. Felix scrunched up his nose in annoyance. How were they supposed to mix that? How easily did it spread? He knew he should have worn something less formal. (Oh, who was he kidding? Felix didn’t have anything less formal.)

An apologetic whimper came from Marinette, as if any of this was her fault. Claude and Allegra quickly fell into a coughing fit as Claude dropped the flour bag onto the ground. Of course, dropping the bag only threw more dust into the air.

The two attempted to wave the dust away, but it only partly worked. When the dust did finally clear, though, Claude and Allegra were left with a small pile of flour on their table. The rest of the flour was either in the air or draped across their clothes and hair.

“Wow.” Felix stated dryly. “I’m impressed. You actually managed to wait until M. Tom left before making a complete mess of yourselves and the room.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it u-” Claude’s retort was cut off by another coughing fit, but Allegra continued it for him.

“I don’t see you rolling out your dough in a perfectly clean and pristine manner.”

“That’s because you used up the rest of the flour.” Felix shot back.

Marinette gasped. “Is it really all gone?”

Claude and Allegra, suddenly dawning a sheepish expression, looked down at the bag that was still on the floor. Claude reached down to pick it up, but, as if the situation weren’t bad enough already, he grabbed the wrong end and pulled it up upside down.

The last bits of flour trickled to the floor, spreading across the brunette’s legs.

“...Yeah. It’s all-” He let out another cough “-gone.”

Allan’s eyes widened, a mixture of admiration and mortification swirling onto his features. “How did you waste an entire bag of flour on one spill?”

“You’d be surprised.” Marinette muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“We can reimburse you.” Allegra was quick to offer. “How much did the flour cost? Do you take checks?”

A light chuckle fell from Marinette’s lips. “No, no, that’s not necessary. I’ve.. actually done worse.”

Claude’s eyes bulged out of his head. “You’ve done worse?”

Felix thought over the many falls that Marinette had had over the past week. Her clumsiness certainly made it possible to have more extreme accidents.

“What do we do now that the flour is gone?” He asked, trying to get the group back on track. The sooner they finished baking the croissants, the sooner he could examine the rest of Marinette’s house instead of sitting in the kitchen. The Dupain-Chengs appeared to be a lively, fun-loving family, but he’d only gotten a small taste of their life, only seen the tip of the iceberg. Felix wanted to absorb as many details as possible before leaving.

Marinette straightened. “Oh! There’s actually more flour in the back! I’ll go get it.”

Before Felix could offer any assistance- his curiosity piqued about where they might store more food -the ravenette had already left the room, disappearing through another doorway in the back.

A moment later, she returned, another large bag of flour in her hands. This time, however, the bag was full. Felix vaguely wondered how heavy the bags must weigh for her to be wobbling over with one so easily. Wasn’t flour supposed to be heavy?

“Here’s a fresh bag of flo-ou-ah!” Marinette’s words jumbled into jargon when her foot caught on her ankle. Her body lunged forward from the momentum, and Felix stepped up to catch her on reflex.

Bad idea.

Due to the weight of the flour bag yanking her downwards, Marinette crashed into Felix’s and dragged him to the floor with her. His back hit the floor with a painful *thud*, immediately sucking all of the air from his lungs.

Of course, the flour bag popped open upon impact, sending more white dust directly into his face. Between the weight of Marinette and the flour, along with his aching lungs and the suffocating dust, Felix was convinced that he was about to die right then and there on the bakery floor.

Felix Culpa: tragically taken from this world by a bag of flour and a clumsy classmate. What a way to go.

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, Felix. Are you okay??” Marinette asked frantically, pushing herself off of him.

Felix coughed out a weak response with what little oxygen he had. Even without Marinette, the flour bag pressed into his chest like a block of concrete. How had she been carrying this without breaking a sweat earlier?

Marinette hauled the bag off of him, and Felix sucked in a deep breath despite the flour still cluttering the atmosphere. All he needed right now was some sweet, blessed air. Infected or no.

It wasn’t until he regained enough of his senses to push himself up into a sitting position that he heard Claude’s howling laughter.

“Oh, man!” The brunette cackled. “And you thought we were bad! Look at you, Fe! You’re a ghost!”

Felix glanced down at his clothes, which were indeed covered in white. He could even feel the weight of the flour in his hair. How long was this going to take to wash out? Was he going to have to buy new clothes before going home?

A snort brought his gaze upwards, where Marinette stood with the bag of flour. She had a hand on her mouth- holding the bag of flour with one hand -and a barely contained smile on her lips that she was obviously trying to hide.

That’s when Felix knew that he must be looking ridiculous.

“At least I wasn’t the one to cause the mess.” Felix grumbled in response to Claude. He reached up to start brushing some of the flour out of his hair, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that Marinette was white with flour as well. It might have been irksome if she had escaped her fall unscathed while he appeared to be a freshly made snowman.

“I am. So sorry.” Marinette apologized again, this time offering him her hand to help him up.

Felix took it, his bafflement towards her uncanny amount of strength only growing as she managed to pull him up with one arm and keep the bag of flour steady in her other arm.

“It’s..” not your fault. Was what he was about to say, except that would be a lie. It was entirely her fault.

“It’s fine.” He said instead. “It’s just clothes.”

“Wow~” Allegra sang, immediately latching onto Felix’s nerves. “‘It’s just clothes’? That’s a first.”

“Remember that time Felix threatened to sue us for enough money to buy a new wardrobe if we ‘got so much as one drop of food on his vest’?” Allan chimed in.

Embarrassment coiled around Felix’s stomach, though he wasn’t sure why. That designer outfit was expensive! And the trio was acting especially chaotic that day. Who knows what might have happened had he not put his foot down when they started joking about a food fight.

Felix whipped around to Allan to explain that exact reasoning, but something caught his attention, causing him to pause. Allan was still at the front of the room, the farthest position from the chaos that had just ensued. Aside from the stray dust still fluttering around the room, the man was completely untouched as far as flour was concerned.

“Marinette,” He said, catching the girl’s eye, “I do believe that Allan hasn’t gotten his flour yet.”

Marinette’s gaze flicked to Allan, then to the bag, and Felix prayed that he assessed her correctly. Because if Allan didn’t get flour on him this instant, Felix might be tempted to do something foolish. Like attempting to throw a bag of flour that was, without a doubt, too heavy for him to even lift on his own.

The barest hints of amusement lit up Marinette’s features. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

Felix smiled, feeling a devilish satisfaction. Yes!

Allan took a step back, suddenly looking very concerned.

“Woah, w-wait a second, guys.” He squeaked, holding up his hands as Marinette inched forward. “L-Let’s talk about this!”

“One of us. One of us.” Claude began chanting behind them. “One of us! One of us!”

Allegra joined in, and, in the spirit of things, Felix joined in as well, if only to push Marinette further towards his goal.

Allan bumped into his assigned counter while trying to put useless distance between himself and Marinette. “Please, no! It’s rare that I come out of these things unscathed!”

Marinette’s grin was downright predatory as she held up the bag of flour. “I can’t imagine why.”

Allan’s scream was the last thing Felix heard before Marinette swung the flour bag forward.

The entire room erupted into uncontrollable laughter as Allan coughed out at least half the bag. He was now stark white from head to toe, and Felix couldn’t be prouder. It served him right for poking the bear.

Allan hung his head in defeat, a bit of flour falling off of his head from the action. This only made the group laugh harder. Claude started to say something about the “set being complete”, but before he could finish-

“What is going on?!”

M. Tom reappeared in the doorway, his eyes wide and puzzled as he stared at the flour-covered room.

Felix froze. Right. They were supposed to be baking with Marinette’s parents.

Marinette set the flour bag down immediately. “I’m sorry, Papa, this is all my fault.”

“No, that’s not fair!” Claude protested. “Allegra and I spilled the flour bag first!”

“So she had to go get more!” Allegra continued the explanation.

“I’m the one who told her to throw the fresh flour at Allan.” Felix added. If anyone was to get in trouble, it should certainly be him. He was the only one who actually spilled the flour on purpose. Marinette didn’t deserve to take the blame for his petty actions.

M. Tom furrowed at the near-simultaneous remarks, but then let out a hearty laugh.

“I see you’ve all gotten into the baking spirit!” He declared. “Now who wants to learn how to actually fold dough?”

Felix blinked. He’d expected the man to be at least a little upset. Did this sort of thing happen often? Or was Marinette’s father simply that forgiving? M. Tom did refer to the mess as ‘the baking spirit’.. Whatever that means.

“Yeah we do!” Claude shouted enthusiastically, taking Felix from his thoughts.

“Great! Let’s start with putting the flour on the table.” Tom smiled, going back to his original spot next to Allan.

Felix followed the notion, going back to his original spot as well. He tried brushing more of the flour off of his vest, but, as expected, it didn’t help much. He was probably going to get more flour on him during the folding process anyway.

“Don’t worry.” Marinette whispered as she reclaimed her spot next to him. “I’ll let you guys wash up in the bathroom after this. If you want to, that is.”

Felix nodded. “I would be eternally grateful.”

Marinette giggled. “..So did you really threaten to sue them over your clothes?”

Felix paused his kneading long enough to sigh. Freaking Allan. That idiot deserved every speck of flour dust that he had on him.

Tag List: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182

#Felinette #Rosemary AU #New Girl on the Block #Marinette #Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids

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goldemas1244 · 3 years

Note

Heyyyy I have a question :3

Do you have any headcanon/s for these character : Scraptrap, Scrap Baby, Lady Dimistrecu, the three daughter of Lady D, Heisenberg and/or Molten Freddy ? :3

You don't have to do all the proposition, you can choose what character you want to do :3

Have a good day/evening and stay safe ! :3

*Cracks knuckles* \(^v^)/

You already know I'm doing all of them! Thank you for the ask! Headcanons under the cut!

FNaF6

Scraptrap

He loves rice and would do anything to get his paws on it. Fortunately, the pizzeria is quite close to a Chinese restaurant so rice is easy to get.

He orders a rice-based menu at least three times a week, so the owners aren't at all that surprised to see a tuxedo-clad zombie-rabbit come in and ask for their signature fried rice with buttered lobster on the side.

Since he like to dine-in there, he usually asks Michael to give him a bath in exchange for pizzeria improvements. Michael usually shrugs and gives him a well-deserved bubble bath and his tuxedo.

He likes it when Michael gives him head pats and rubs. It makes him feel loved and appreciated.

He has a pet pigeon named Fernando Buschmann. It's German and likes to listen to the violin.

He likes ASMR and memes. ASMR makes him go feral with murderous intent while memes make him question the modern generation.

He has social media accounts, all named "Willton-Moldover". He usually posts cosplays and furry art on them and has 93 followers on his Reddit profile, 1.5 million followers on his Instagram, 550 followers on his Tumblr, 35 on his Snapchat, and 3.95 million on his TikTok.

He also has a YouTube channel with 10.784 million subscribers called "Willton-Gameover". He plays videogames one-handed and roasts popular YouTubers and famous people. He would never roast Keanu Reeves though, because Keanu Reeves is precious bean.

Due to his popularity he gets a lot of hate mail and private pics. He doesn't like them at all so he blackmails the people who post them. And if the media and police are involved? Well, he has a strong fanbase that's not going down as well as a good alibi so that works out well for him.

Yes, his fanbase also knows of the Fazbear Murders, and he admits to it but frankly, he's shown them the approving ghost kids (who've bonded and gamed with him) so that's no big deal. Only Cassidy hates him, but it's usually constipated anger.

He's bisexual and has an ENORMOUS crush on one of his favourite game characters, Karl Heisenberg. Something about that man reminds him of himself and Henry, although he's not sure what. Still, don't let that distract you from the fact that he owns a nude Karl Heisenberg body pillow, CAPCOM official.

Scrap Baby

Her favourite Monster High doll is Draculaura. She doesn't understand how pink goes well with black but oh boy, pink goes so well with black.

She knows how to skateboard like a pro. Despite her weight, her trusty skateboard still stands and, if she falls, she's always got her skates to spare. She likes to impress the boys at the skatepark with her ability to perform even the most difficult of moves with ease.

She's subscribed to fifteen different tabloid subscriptions. She likes to read them and criticize the stupidity of the human race, like her father. Hey, it's hereditary.

The lights in her boobies glow in the dark. They also glow whenever she gets tired.

She likes reading furniture and gardening catalogues. She's judgy of the prices though and usually becomes a full-on critic with Lefty listening.

She owns a crab named Mr. Tootie. No I will not elaborate on the name. I'll only tell you that it's taken a liking to kazoos and party favours.

She's listed as the No. 1 Best Fan of her father's social media accounts. Michael's in nineteenth place but don't worry, he's as emotionless as a mushroom.

She likes to make origami lotuses. She's such a pro at it that she's even got a mini-stall at the pizzeria: 1 lotus for 50 cents. It's a lucrative business, and it's still growing. Oh, and she switches to other origami works of art every week such as origami guns and origami nine-tailed foxes.

She's the Restaurant Rescue manager. Usually she saves kids from trouble. For this reason, yes, she's commonly seen in the pizzeria itself. Kids love her though the claw worries the more irksome parents.

She's a professional Karen dealer. Karen comes to see the manager? She's hypnotically talented in weaving her words through the toughest of craniums so don't be surprised if a Karen walks out with a new viewpoint of life.

She performs on stage on the occasion, which usually gets her a lot of fan love. She cherishes everything good they give but ignores the problematic everythings. Problematic stuff? Oh, she's good friends with the police chief.

Molten Freddy

He loves noodles. Give him a bowl of ramen and he'll shut up for the entire night. Enter him in a noodle-eating competition and his high metabolism rate means absolutely non-stop spaghetti.

He misses Bon-Bon very much. To the point where he's even tried to make a scrap version of him. Sadly, it doesn't work. He cried that day.

He dies inside whenever he finds out there's a spaghetti shortage in Utah. Poor Molten.

He's a bit wonky, but if he tries to play with you or get into your personal space, don't get mad at him! He's just lonely and wants someone to talk to and play with.

He likes to play Exploding Kittens. It's the only card game he's good at. It's also the only card game he owns.

He sees Helpy as a little brother and boops his nose on a daily basis. He also likes to reenact The Lion King with him (It's the ciiiiiircle of liiiiiife~). Hopefully Helpy doesn't mind.

He knows a lot of jokes in a lot of languages. So German-speaking Molten Freddy wouldn't be too far away from expectation. His favourite jokes are in French though; the wordplay is just immaculate.

He's good in French, English, German, Russian, and Malay. He's currently learning Japanese because he's a mega weeb.

His favourite cartoon is Charlie and Lola. He just likes to see the sibling shenanigans as it somehow reminds him of the good old days.

His favourite shows would be prankster shows. He especially loves the ones that give him new and creative ideas. He doesn't like the scary ones though. They make him feel unsafe and give him anxiety.

Surprisingly, he has a distinct taste for opera. He can modulate the remnants of his voice box to perfectly sing I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major-General. This both pisses off and impresses Henry to an extent.

Resident Evil 8

Lady Dimitrescu

She might act like the opposite but she really loves Heisenberg as her little brother. His determination, strength, speed, dexterity, and workaholic nature impresses her, who can't even fit through a doorway. She sometimes wishes she's as short as him too.

She's an avid collector of glass, porcelain, and anything fragile. It's a good reason to always be careful where you tread in her lair. She'll make you swallow every last shard if you don't.

She's an avid romance fanatic and is very loving towards the romance novels she owns. All those books you see in the in-game library? They're her collection of lesbian romances that she's collected over the past decades.

She doesn't like hats and prefers to stick to the one she wears in-game. She DOES have a collection of hats though. Last anyone counted, there were over fifty, one or two for each decade she's lived through.

She files her nails on a constant basis and owns an ornately decorated nail-clipper. Hygeine is of the utmost importance. She doesn't want to be compared to that filthy Heisenberg.

Despite her size and carefulness she keeps losing her stuff. Over the course of a week she could misplace three wine glasses, two reading glasses, and fifteen bottles of wine.

She's an expert at dodgeball and golf and even owns a lifetime access to the most prolific Country Club in Romania. With permission from Mother Miranda she goes there every year for the yearly party. It's one of the times she gets to see modernity (and Ed Sheeran) at its finest.

She loves bands from the 1920s and 1940s. However, she gets bored of them occasionally and switches them to something more modern, like Ed Sheeran. Seriously though, what is up with mums and Ed?

She's into executions and torture methods. So it's no surprise that she's a HUGE fan of Horrible Histories; even if she can't watch the show, she'll binge-read the books over and over again. She's even had the chance to encounter (and receive an autograph from) Terry Deary. They have sworn a bond not to tell anybody about this.

She loves exotic animals like anacondas and jaguars. She may or may not have owned a 10ft long Saltwater Crocodile (which was also about 5ft wide).

She's an incredible physicist and mathematician. She's also created many original formulae but unsurprisingly, she doesn't tell anyone about them, for fear that either more people may know of her, or that she may be wrong.

Dimitrescu Babes

They can devour an entire human being in mere seconds as flies. It's sort of like the scarab beetles in The Mummy movies. However, unlike the beetles, they are able to strip the bones as well. They leave nothing behind.

They all know how to play the piano with varying levels of success. Daniela can already play professionally while Bela is still stuck on Grade 5.

They love to listen to their mother when she tells them stories. Gotta hand it to 'em, when you're a fly, you know how to enjoy life in its most simple of moments.

They all love being around the hunky Soldats of Uncle Karl. Fortunately, they don't know of the rebellious plan to conquer Miranda.

Bela is bisexual, Cassandra is asexual and pansexual, and Daniela is demisexual.

It gets hard when you're a fly during the summer. If it's not the lizards, spiders, and other predators, it's the heat. Because of this, despite the material waste, they have invented the world's first blood-powered air conditioner.

The three girls have never ever ever touched a stove or oven in their life. They HAVE touched the hot end of an iron though. A good reason to not touch a bloody oven. Alcina has though, but doesn't tell them that.

They love puppies! Uncle Karl brought them a baby labrador. For the rest of the week Alcina had lost quite a bit of favour from them. Not that they minded of course. IT'S A PUPPY.

They don't like snow one bit. Not just because it's cold, but because it's too white. Too bright. Too shiny. They just can't focus on their prey!

They like to go over to Auntie Donna to play with Angie. Well, you know what they say, crazies attract the crazies, and the crazy has attracted the crazies.

They also like to go to Uncle Moreau's because he's the only one in the village with a PS4. Usually they'd spend about three-quarters of a day playing his games and eating his cheese.

Karl Heisenberg

He owns a dark blue armchair named Junkyard. Despite the name, he loves it dearly because it was a gift from Alcina for his twenty-first birthday. It became part of his final transformation too. Right under the hat.

He's a little blind in the right eye, much to his annoyance. It was a minor accident with Sturm; another reason for him to hate the uncontrollable wretch. He'll never live that day down.

Somehow, he sees better in the dark, which is why he wears such tinted glasses. He also wears them to hide his expressions, since, more often than not, he tends to end up wearing his heart on his sleeve, and his emotions in his eyes.

He's under a lot of pressure so it's no surprise that he breaks down in his factory when he knows he's alone. And by break down I mean crumple into an exhausted heap on the floor. Not even his Soldat Jet squad can wake him up until he's had a reasonable eight hours of rest.

He bathes once a day, every evening, but only three times a week. Perfume, tobacco, and cologne keep care of the rest.

He's the only Lord with a daily contact with the outside world due to his electrical abilities. Don't tell Miranda, but he can electrically CONNECT TO GOOGLE AND THE ENTIRE INTERNET IN GENERAL. He likes to play funny YouTube cat videos in his head when Miranda's having a boring meeting. It's also how he finds out that Chris is a boulder-punching asshole.

He does stimming! He likes to tap his fingers on his desk and the metal rails in his factory. He also buys stim toys from the Duke and keeps them in a well-kept box. His favourite is a non-ripping squishable toy duck. He also sings to chill out.

He's absolutely in the Five Nights at Freddy's franchise, and may have once believed in the pizzeria's existence. Come on, he's a mutated Overlord with magical magnet powers. Children souls stuck inside animatronics isn't too far-fetched of an idea. His favourite characters are the Funtimes and the Scraps, mainly because of the blueprint complexity. He HAS tried to replicate the animatronics in his spare time, but he's usually too busy with his Soldats so the project gets scrapped. He loves The Living Tombstone's songs and remixes though.

He doesn't like William Afton at all (though he marvels at his survivability). William's nature and habits remind him of Mother Miranda. He DOES however enjoy Michael Afton and often thinks how it would be absolutely amazing to have that resilient being in his Soldat army.

He's scared of what lurks below the watery depths and fire. Ironic because his brother is a literal fish and he works in one of the most hazardous fire-conducting environments. He's also scared of heights, though he doesn't get airsick.

He once died due to a killing electric shock whilst working on Sturm. It's the only time he's felt that sort of pulsing agony and also the first time he's had the confirmation that yes, Hell is real and yes, he'll end up in quite a dark pit in it. Or it could've been an electric dream, who knows? Anyways his soul apparently ran towards the opposite direction of the flames and he woke up alive after the passing of FIVE ENTIRE WEEKS. Oh boy did Alcina get worried when she couldn't find him.

Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy!

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mandareeboo · 3 years

Text

Unfinished Work #44: “Untitled”

Title: Untitled

Summary: Hilda wages war to protect the Lost Clan

The other from my patreon! Here's a Hilda oneshot I still love the idea of; Hilda staging a public protest against the Safety Patrol to protect the Lost Clan, trying to find a way to cement them as long-term residents, and Ahlberg involving Johanna to try and keep Hilda out of his hair. I've wanted to write some Hilda and Johanna since season 2.

———————————————————————————————————

"Of course I've seen them," said Hilda, brow furrowing, as she tapped her pencil on her desk. Science homework was so unnecessarily complicated sometimes. Who cared how hot the center of the planet was? It wasn't like she was allowed to go into it. "Baby woffs aren't half as cute as you'd think. All hairless and squinty."

David hummed thoughtfully. He'd taken refuge on what was, technically, Hilda's bed, propping his work up on an errant book. "Like regular babies, then."

"Regular babies don't fly, David."

"Woff babies don't either."

"He's got you there," Frida supplied. She'd long-finished her school homework, taking to drawing various spell circles in chalk on a tiny blackboard Tildy had given her. "Scientists think their flying is kept in the fur... somehow? Woffs are weird."

David raised his hand. "If white woffs are so lucky to magic, wouldn't a white woff familiar be, like, cheating it's so lucky?"

"Actually, it's the opposite. Woffs are revered for being all free and floaty. 'S considered bad to tie one down like that." Hilda caught the two staring and flushed. "I, uh, I asked Kaisa."

"Hilda, were you going to bring me a white woff?" Frida asked, eyebrows raising.

"Not as a familiar! That's my job. But I thought that maybe helping raise one might make you super magic lucky."

"Do you know how to raise a woff?"

She considered it, then shrugged. "Can't be much harder than human babies."

"I don't think that's how it works," David replied, "but I don't know enough about woffs to dispute it."

The air shatters with a gentle pecking on the window. David immediately went to the sill, face relaxing at the familiar visage of a pigeon. Then he saw the inhabitants. He unlocked the window and pulled it open without permission, letting them inside. "Bartell! Agnes! You look awful!"

Agnes snarled at him, but didn't have the energy to spit. Bartell smiled weakly, using his shoulder to support the elf. "Few extra battle scars never hurt anyone, lad. Wouldja mind if we took a quick rest here, Hilda? It's a long flight back to the others."

"Mind?" Hilda blurted out. She held her hands out for them to climb on, holding them close to her chest with a frown. "I only wish I could do more. I'm afraid I don't have any elf-sized plasters."

"I can help with that." Frida pointedly waggled her wand. David quickly dug through the bedside table, pulling out a pack with little weather patterns on them.

Once they're sufficiently shrunken, Bartell gladly receives them. "Thank ye, lass. Yer a lifesaver." He opened a plaster and stuck it to a cut on Agnes' arm. The woman shrieked. "Keep the language to a minimum, Agnes! There's kids about."

"I heard unfortunate langua-" Alfur started to say, opening the door to his little home. He saw the situation and paled, ears falling. "Oh. Oh, my. Are you all alright?"

Hilda held her hand up, and Alfur gladly crawled on, getting set on her bed. Hilda quickly bunkered down on her knees, resting her chin on the blankets. "What happened, Bartell?"

"Ah, the usual bad bit of combat." Bartell lowered his voice. "I fell to the ground. Got swatted away and couldn't hold onto my bird- and poor Agnes was hit by a bug zapper."

Alfur gasped, hands to his face. "Not a bug zapper!"

He nodded soulfully. "Aye. It'd be lethal to the average elf."

"Truly, Agnes is a being beyond our simple comprehension." The elf did a polite bow to the old elf. "You will go down in history for all of elfkind to know, my friend."

Agnes slowly nodded her head. She looked pleased.

"But what were you fighting?" Frida pressed. "If this was normal elf-on-elf combat, you would have never gotten near any bug zapper, let alone be swatted."

"Who else?" Bartell asked. "Those blasted humans. The one with the gloves."

#Unfinished Work #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Hilda Fanfic #Hilda Fanfiction #Hilda the Series #Hilda #Frida #David #Agnes #Bartell #Alfur

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

Text

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 10 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9)

Nixon - April 1944

There was a fresh energy about Emily, a lightness in her step that had never been there before. Nixon first noticed it that Monday morning when she trotted into the intelligence room with a box of what looked like handicraft materials.

“Good morning,” she said in a sing-song voice. Her smile seemed brighter against her red lips.

“‘Morning,” Nixon responded. Emily looked particularly nice that day, Nixon noted. Her hair seemed bouncier, shinier, and her legs looked as nice as ever in those black heels and nylons. This was all objectively speaking of course. She was a new woman and her renewed energy showed magnetically. Nixon wasn’t the only one to notice either; he didn’t miss the creeping eyes of other staff members doing their best to sneak a glance at Emily.

“Nix,” the voice of Dick Winters interrupted his train of thought. Nixon dropped the report he was meant to be reading and looked up at his lean, copper haired friend.

“What?”

“We’re both needed in Colonel Sink’s office.”

“Right,” Nixon stood up from his desk, his chair shifting loudly behind him.

The remainder of the day passed in monotonous agony as Nixon was pulled from one meeting to another to trainings and back again with only quick trips back to the intelligence office to grab a file or notes. At each brief return, Nixon found Emily poised at her desk, dead focused on the slowly growing stack of aerial photos on her desk. Curiosity lined with envy poked at him. She seemed so invested in what she was doing surely it was more interesting than what he had been doing all day. He felt like a carrier pigeon bringing information and requests back and forth between intelligence staff, officers, and the war department. Where was the challenge in that?

By the time evening came all Nixon wanted was to drop into bed with a drink. He had promised Welsh that he would meet him for a drink, a promise he now regretted making. The man was quartered at a house in town and it was far too easy for him to slip away to the pub, and since Nixon had privileges that the enlisted men didn’t (and because Winters didn’t drink), Welsh often invited Nixon to be his casual drinking buddy. Nixon didn’t have the same energy for the pub crowds as Welsh did. On more than one occasion he stood his friend up, and this evening was looking like it was about to be one of those times.

Nixon slumped down onto the twin bed in his tight box room and that was it, he wasn’t getting up. He lay there, head barely propped up on the pillow, lacking the energy to even pull his boots off. This wasn’t the same exhaustion he had felt during his training at Toccoa. His body was strong, in fact it felt over-rested, restless. He found himself wishing for that physical fatigue he had once known. Things had grown stale for him at Aldbourne. Generally speaking, he enjoyed the work and he did it well. But recently Nixon felt under stimulated.

Things in his personal life had also become stagnant. His letters home were predictable and polite. He wasn’t lacking in fraternity camaraderie thanks to his friendships with Winters and Welsh and now Emily. He fully considered her a friend, and one he was grateful to know. Yet, Nixon felt himself wanting since the drama of their strained association had ended.

With combat on the horizon, he was conscious of not jinxing the relative peace he was experiencing. But a part of him, deep down, feared his own potential recklessness. He knew himself well enough to suspect that he may just do something that his rational self would regret later if this boredom continued.

Perhaps he should go out for that drink with Welsh, at least for the opportunity to burn off some frustrated energy. Barely lifting his head from the pillow, Nixon tipped a bit of liquor from his flask down his throat as he debated with himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by the gentlest knock at his door. Nixon lifted his head in surprise, he wasn’t expecting anyone.

“Lew? You in there?” A voice murmured through the wooden door.

“Yeah,” Nixon whispered louder back, “come in,” he said as an afterthought.

Slowly, the door was eased open and Emily slipped quickly inside. She was dressed in slacks and a dark blouse tied up loosely around her waist. Although it was late evening and her face looked clean of makeup she still sported her bold red lipstick. She grinned naughtily, obviously feeling rebellious for being in his room at such an hour.

“Emily?” Nixon couldn’t say he wasn’t a little surprised, “what’re you doing here?”

From behind her back Emily produced an open bottle of red wine and a deck of playing cards.

“What do you say?” she smiled charmingly, “up for a little gin?” 

Nixon raised an eyebrow, “I hope you mean the game and not that you have gin in that stoppered bottle of yours.”

  “Don’t be silly! Do you mind?” Emily flopped down on the foot of his bed without waiting for permission. “I’m afraid the wine won’t be up to your usual standard. If I’m being completely honest, it wasn’t very expensive.”

“You always assume me a snob.” Nixon took the bottle from her to check out the label.

“Well, you are kind of a snob. Vat 69 exclusively?”  

“I drink beer.”

“As a supporting act,” Emily said.

Nixon chuckled and handed the bottle back to her, “you don’t know much about whiskey do you?”

“See! That’s something a snob would say!”

“I could be worse.”

“True,” Emily conceded, “you’re a snob but at least you’re not condescending. I’ve met a few guys like that.”

“Notre Dame men?”

“Harvard, I’ve recently met them.”

“Good thing I went to Yale.”

“Oh yes, good thing!” Emily teased.

“Anyways,” Nixon continued, “you may be surprised to know that Vat 69 isn’t the smoothest of whiskeys. Just happens to be my personal preference.”  

Emily eyed him, he could see that she wanted to say something but was holding back.

  “What?” he pried.

“Nothing!” Her voice clearly revealed she didn’t actually mean nothing.

“Tell me.”

Emily chewed on her lip then smiled hesitantly, “do all alcoholics have preferences?”  

Nixon rolled his eyes, “I’m only an alcoholic if it becomes a problem.”

“If?” Emily wrestled the cork from her wine bottle.

 “Has my work performance been slipping, Miss Rooney? Do you have some feedback you would like to offer?”

Emily took a swig from the bottle. Nixon could see the tint of ox blood red blossom between her cherry lips before she swallowed. “Not at all Captain.”   

Nixon’s mouth twisted in distaste and he gestured for her to pass the bottle. She took another drink before handing it over, “actually,” she said smacking her lips, “I did have a question - or actually something I wanted to share - from when I was looking over a few of those surveillance pictures. I noticed that there was this hedge, or like fence, or something in a place that isn’t showing up on the topographers’ maps. I think that may change or impact whatever’s in the works.”

Nixon nodded thoughtfully, “okay, good to know. We can go over it in more detail tomorrow or next time we’re both in the office. But enough shop talk, why are you here again?”  

Emily held up the deck of cards triumphantly, “gin! Want to play? Or am I interrupting plans?” she asked suddenly timid.

Nixon thought about Welsh at the pub. Eh, he probably made some new buddies to drink with, Nixon wasn’t worried. He still felt tired but looking at Emily perched on the end of his bed, he wasn’t about to kick her out. It’s not like he would be sleeping if she left anyways. The most tragic irony of his current state was that his restless exhaustion had made an insomniac out of him.

“Not at all, let’s play.”

 Light seemed to radiate off of her smile in the dimmed room. She tucked her legs under her and dealt the cards. Nixon took another drink of wine, feeling his frustration abate, at least for the night.

Nixon’s workload continued to increase over the next couple of days. He was run ragged by a laundry list of tasks. Although the tasks felt menial, there was the sensation that things were coming to a head. He had known that something big was in the works for a while now. Since he handed those first photos over to Emily he was prepared for what was most likely their invasion of the continent. Finally, it seemed as if it was going to happen.

The intelligence office had been instructed to begin constructing sand tables; miniature, but lifelike maps of the terrain where the allies intended to invade. In a meeting with the higher-ups, Nixon had been instructed not to divulge the location for the impending invasion to anyone. The point of invasion was on a need-to-know basis. The sand tables could be constructed based off of the provided information without having to reveal the actual location. According to Colonel Sink, Emily and other S-2s were to simply be artists for the time being.

Nixon had barely found the time to relay construction instructions to Emily before he was whisked off to another meeting. Ergo, he hadn’t found the time to review the issue she had brought up to him the other night; an inconsistency with the aerial photos and topographical maps.

“Sir,” Emily stood up from her desk when he ducked in to visit his desk one day, “I need to talk to you.”

 Nixon ignored her, focused on his task. He was only there to collect some reports.

“Nixon, sir,” Emily skittered over to his desk. “Sir, I need to show you these photos I pieced together. Remember? I mentioned the other night-,”

“Not now Emily,” Nixon grumbled as he rifled through his papers.

 “Nixon, please it’s important. I think you should know before you proceed any further with whatever is being planned.”

“You can show me later.”

“I could, yes sir, but I think you should know that the topographical maps may not be completely accurate. They’ll need to be altered which means any strategic planning may need changing which I would hate for everyone to have to revise. It would be better to start with the correct information-,”

“Emily! Please!” Nixon finally found the reports he was after. He exited the room quickly with Emily on his heels, her black pumps tip-tapping irritatingly across the wood and carpets of the manor.

“Lewis, I wanted to show you days ago, take a look at these, really quick,” she stuffed the photos under his chin. Nixon snatched them out of her hand exasperatedly, “what?” he demanded.

She was struggling slightly to keep pace with him but managed to point out a row of hedges, thick and wide, that bordered the far right of one photo and the far left of another. Side by side, the photos formed a clear picture. If Emily hadn’t pointed out the hedge, Nixon may have assumed that the dense shrubbery was blurred photo ink.

“Where is this?” 

“It appears to be a large hedgerow right near Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. In fact, it appears to be one of the largest in the area. Sir, it’s not on the topographers’ maps and in my opinion a hedgerow of this size should be included on those maps. It could offer strategic cover for almost the whole battalion. Even possibly an opportune place to set up a rendezvous point? Assuming the Germans aren’t encroaching on that position.” Emily’s voice didn’t waver. She was confident in her work.

“How do you know this is Sainte-Marie-du-Mont?” Nixon kept his voice neutral. Of course he knew that Operation Overlord intended to drop the Airborne into Normandy, but Emily shouldn’t have been the wiser.

Emily returned his suspicious gaze with an emotionless one. There was no hint as to how she discovered the intended invasion point. “I know my maps, sir,” she said.

Nixon couldn’t help the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. “Thanks for sharing this with me, Miss Rooney. Nice work. I’ll be sure to pass the information along.”

#band of brothers #hbo band of brothers #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #fanfiction #original character #oc #as far as friends go #harry welsh #dick winters #winnix

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peachtree-dish · 3 years

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A Te Che Sei il Mio Grande Amore Ch. 7: Niente ti farà del male piccola

23 Gennaio, 1970

The first indication of Luca’s growth spurt began with his school blazer suddenly feeling too tight as he raised his hands in class. The second indication came from bursting seams on his pants and his pants becoming more like capris as he wore them each day. The third time his inseam split, Signora Mia finally resigned herself to the reality of new clothes. Now, standing in front of his mirror, Luca could see the changes he had been too busy to notice before. His body was lengthening and becoming more svelte, with his legs becoming toned from cycling around the city. His face had slimmed down, losing most of the baby fat and child-like roundness he had grown accustomed to for most of his life.

The only features that hadn’t changed with time were his eyes; richly brown with flecks of gold and red. Luca wondered what Alberto would think of when he saw him. His friend’s voice had begun to deepen when they spoke two months prior, and Luca had all but melted into the warm depths of that voice. Would Alberto have a similar reaction to seeing Luca as he grew into himself? His thoughts were mildly put on hold as a gentle hand knocked on his bedroom door seeking permission to enter. Giulia entered, her hair damps from her bath and her skin glowing from the warmth of the water.

Dante and Luisa had left about an hour ago, having visited for after-school studying. He was not overly excited for their upcoming midterms, and with the added stress of assisting the teachers, he felt nervous about how his grades would fair. She plopped none too gently on his bed while the sounds of Signora Mia’s poor singing and the radio blasting in the kitchen echoed into his room.

“They’re playing the Beatles again?” He inquired, picking up the familiar tunes under Mia’s caterwauling. He pretended to brush imaginary dust from the light blue shirt he was wearing while strains of ‘Let it Be’ floated through the air. Giulia grinned and nodded, wincing when her mother’s voice reached for a particularly high note.

“I think Beatlemania has finally bitten her.” She rolled onto her stomach and faced him. “Were you going to try on the clothes we bought?” She inquired. He flushed under her scrutiny, not wishing to appear vain, and instead opted for sitting nonchalantly in his chair by the window.

“No, I was just thinking about changes.”

“Like what kind of changes?”

“The physical kind; I didn’t realize we were growing up.” Giulia hummed in thought. Just like her mother, both women had a gift to perceive and understand those around them with hardly any words or context.

“You don’t seem overly happy about it?” She cautiously pried.

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly, it’s something new.”

“Well, if it helps, you look good in your new wardrobe. I can hear the swooning girls now.” Giulia grinned wolfishly. The thought of girls noticing him more made Luca nervous and uncomfortable.

“I sure hope not,” he looked out the window to the hues of sunlight bathing the coral and cream houses orange. The lighting reminded him of Porto Rosso, and in turn, reminded him of Alberto.

“Don’t you want to start dating? Dante hardly shuts up about girls and most everyone in your grade is going out. Unless you’re only allowed to date sea monsters.” He continued to avoid her gaze, instead focusing on a flock of pigeons strutting along the rooftop to the left.

“No one interests me here.” He hedged after a moment.

“Not even Luisa?”

Now that got his attention.

“Ew, what? No!” He wagged his arms in horror, nearly losing his balance on the chair.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Giulia soothed, baffled at his reaction.

“No offense to her or anything, I just… no. Definitely not.”

“Bene, she’s not interested, if that helps.”

“Why did you ask her?”

“I never said I did,” Giulia blustered, pink spreading across her face. Luca just stared at her with an unimpressed expression. She laughed nervously, glancing to the side.

“I was just curious,” she mumbled. She began to wrap strands of hair around her fingers, obviously avoiding his gaze now. A light suddenly clicked in Luca’s brain.

“Do you like her?” Giulia’s head snapped up and she glared at him.

“Do you like Alberto?” She shot back.

Looking back at this moment, Luca would realize he should have felt fear, or nervous, perhaps even anger, but Giulia’s question felt like a shock to his system. A switch flicked on and flooded his body with realization and for the first time in years, Luca understood everything.

A shock of laughter escaped him, “Yeah, actually. I do.” He laughed again, this time harder, unsure as to why tears were starting to leak down his cheeks, staining them green. Luca pressed his face into his hands as his laughter turned into hysterical gasps for air.

“Actually, I-I think I’m in love with him.” Oh shit, shit, shit, shit. “O mio Dio, I’m in love with my best friend, Gules.” He didn’t hear Giulia move until her arms were suddenly wrapping around him and she was awkwardly rubbing circles into his back.

“Is this okay?” She asked. He could no longer form words, so Luca nodded his consent instead.

When he eventually calmed down and the only evidence of his initial panic were the scale tracks on his face and neck, Giulia quietly went to grab him a glass of water and held it out for him to take.

“Sorry, that was dramatic.” He whispered croakily. Giulia laughed kindly and patted his shoulder.

“I think dramatic is a requirement in our family. Besides, you already know how I can be too much.”

They sat in silence for a time with their arms around each other, the light outside fading to the familiar dark and loud nightlife of Genoa.

“Per favore, don’t tell my mama.” Luca cast her a look of confusion. “About Luisa.” She amended. “As kind and accepting as she is, I think this is something that would be too much of a sorpresa.”

The red-headed teen scuffed her big toe against the floor, eyes downcast.

“Hey,” Luca nudged her softly, prompting her to look up at him. “She might be the one to surprise you. I’ve never met two people like your parents, Giulia, who truly only lived to make their child happy.”

“Ad ogni modo, I’m still not ready for that conversation. Besides, it’s not like I have a chance. Luisa’s, like, super pretty and smart, and Santa mozzarella! When she sings, it’s incredibile!”

Luca smiled as his friend rambled on about the Sicilian sea monstress, wondering if this was how he looked every time he gushed about Alberto. Eyes bright, cheeks flushed, and an endless amount of knowledge about the one person you consider to be your whole world. It was a wonder no one else knew of his feelings.

21 Marzo 1970

“Santa ziti! You’ve been in love with him this whole time?!”

“Zitto, Ciccio! I’d rather not have the whole town know, thank you.” Alberto flung flour at the blonde’s face, nervously checking to make sure no one had heard them. They were currently working in the kitchen behind the Pasticcini’s front area, with Alberto kneading the dough and Ciccio creating scores in the bread or decorating the more delicate sweets.

Ciccio winced apologetically and lowered his voice, leaning in for good measure.

“Does he know, or have you not told him yet?”

“Of course, he doesn’t know, stupido! I’m trying to not ruin our friendship.

“Don’t call me stupido, and how do you know it would?”

Alberto threw the ball of dough down on the wood surface with more force than necessary, the surrounding flour splattering like snowballs after the season’s first snowfall.

“I just know, é tutto.”

They worked in silence for a while, taking turns with switching pans from the clay oven and glazing sweet rolls with fruit jellies and powdered sugar. When the sun was beginning to set everything on fire, its orange gaze turning the sweet rolls into apricot imitations, Ciccio’s mother brought warm cider and a platter of buttered bread. Alberto liked Ciccio’s mother, she was as warm as the bread she baked and her personality as strong and opinionated as the spices she used. Bella shared the same round features as her son, with a strong nose and bowed lips that were quick to smile. Ciccio once explained to Alberto that he and his mother got their strong noses and blonde hair from Bella’s German heritage, but it wasn’t something they spoke openly about.

Today, Signora Bella’s smile was strained, but it had lost none of its warmth. Alberto knew that meant either some customers had been more difficult than others or some pastries hadn’t turned outright. He recoiled at the thought of her being disappointed in anything he’d done.

“Come va tutto, ragazzi?” She lovingly patted Ciccio’s halo of curls and squeezed Alberto’s shoulder with a large hand. “It’s smelling really good in here. Ah, che bello!” She motioned to the cooling racks on Ciccio’s right. The sweet rolls and scored bread glistened perfectly in the afternoon light and the Signora’s words made Alberto glow as well.

“If you keep this up, Alberto, I may have to bribe Massimo to let me keep you all year long,” she teased. Alberto could only shrug nonchalantly, hoping his pride didn’t show.

“How did the sales go, mama?” Ciccio asked cheerfully, taking a large bite from his buttered bread. Alberto watched nervously, eating his own snack at a slower pace, his stomach suddenly feeling as if hermit crabs were marching and pinching at his insides.

Bella waved the questions away, her mouth pulling sourly at the edges. “Bah, Signor Tafani nearly scared away my customers this morning with his complaining. That man is never satisfied.” She sniffed dismissively. Alberto’s fingers began to pick at the bread, the smaller crumbs slipping from his lap.

“Was there something wrong with the baked goods?” He managed to ask, focusing on Bella’s crocifissione that hung around her neck. The older woman’s hand rested over Alberto’s, pausing the destruction of his bread.

“As I said, piccolo, he is never satisfied. No matter how perfect the bake is,” Her smile was small but firm and it made the hermit crabs release their pinching in his stomach. “God help that poor man’s wife.” Bella sighed heavily as she heaved herself to her feet.

“Ora,” she stood and clapped her hands together and both Alberto and Ciccio swallowed their bread quickly, the butter coating Alberto’s mouth with salt and cream. “Alberto, will you be staying for dinner?”

Alberto’s mouth watered at the thought; the signora’s food was always amazing, rich in seasonings and filled with love. Not to mention Ciccio’s father would usually play his guitar and serenade his family with music and singing. If he drank enough wine, Massimo would usually join in and the resulting cacophony would leave the rest of the family in tears and howls of laughter. Outwardly, the curly-haired teen hesitated, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“I don’t know Signora, I don’t want to leave Massimo hanging…”

“Bah, but of course he is invited as well, what do you think telefoni are for?”

“To make long distances seem short.” Ciccio supplied cheekily, earning an inconspicuous kick from Alberto. Signora Bella gave her son a bemused look.

“Si, mio figlio, for that too…” deciding that it was safer to not question the odd antics of teenaged boys, Bella left to call Massimo and prepare dinner.

When she was out of sight, Alberto gruffly shoved Ciccio in the side, earning him a loud laugh.

“I think I preferred it when you were trying to hunt me,” he groaned miserably. Ciccio merely grinned.

“It’d be hard to catch a fish that’s already been caught.” Alberto kicked him harder in answer.

28 Aprile 1970

“You want me to start applying already?”

The headmaster grinned expectantly at Luca.

“Ma certo, Luca! You’ve shown so much potential these past two years, which is even more impressive considering your, ahem, background.” The balding man stage whispered behind his hand. Luca could only stare in confusion.

“Why are you whispering, we’re the only ones here?” Signore Bonetti flushed red for a moment, his thin lips disappeared under his obnoxiously large mustache as he frowned.

“It doesn’t matter,” he waved his hand away, his smile returning instantly. “What matters, mio caro ragazzo is that you could have the opportunity for great things.”

“Bene, I don’t know, Signore Bonetti.”

“You don’t know.” The signore’s mustache quivered as he peered at the curly-haired youth before him. Luca shrugged awkwardly under his gaze, feeling a nervous trickle of sweat make its way down the back of his neck.

“I still have two years here and I have to consider prices as well. Moreover, I would like to discuss future possibilities with my family first.” He offered what he hoped to be a placating smile at the headmaster.

“All the more reason to start now,” Signore Bonetti pressed, his hands inching university pamphlets across the oak desk. “Signora Castello has already agreed to help write your application letters along with several recommendations from our staff. And, I should add that we’ve had a growing handful of universities reach out with interest once I sent a copy of your grades.”

Luca sighed internally, he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be escaping this conversation without some sort of agreement.

“How many universities would accept a full-grown sea monster into their halls, Signore Bonetti?” Luca asked bluntly. Thin lips open and closed in an “o” shape. The mustache covering the top half of his mouth reminded Luca of an octopus who couldn’t quite catch its food. He decided to keep that thought to himself.

“Actually, quite a few would be ecstatic, if you were willing to supply their science departments with some information.”

Luca clasped his hands to keep them from shaking. “I will not be some science project that is locked away and never seen again.” He said firmly.

The headmaster quickly backpedaled, “No, no of course not! We would never allow-”

“I’ve seen what humans do to those they consider different. Fear is a powerful, if uneducated, weapon. If I am to go to any university, I do not want them to know about my…background, as you say.” Luca smiled condescendingly.

The bald man paled, his eyes round with shock.

“No, mio ragazzo, I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Bene, if that is everything, I need to head back to class.” Luca stood, he considered the colorful papers on the desk before grabbing the lot and turning towards the door. Signore Bonetti stuttered a farewell to his retreating figure. He didn’t look back.

“What’s got you looking so glum, chum?” Dante’s question sprayed crumbs everywhere, much to the rest of the group’s disgust. Luca glared up at his large friend, dusting the rejected food off of his copy of ‘Fantastic Mr. Fox’.

“Is it really that hard to swallow first then speak, Castello?” Luisa asked, her cupid bow lips curled in distaste.

Dante rubbed a large hand across his face, dispelling a few straggling crumbs from his mouth. Without saying anything, he stared challengingly into Luisa’s eyes and took a larger bite of a dinner roll, the crumbs falling to their doom. Luisa scoffed and turned back to braiding Giulia’s red locks in intricate patterns. Giulia hadn’t said much during their lunch hour, and if Luca had to guess, he would wager having Luisa sit so close with her hands combing through her hair had something to do with it.

They were currently sat outside on the campus grounds, good weather permitting it. Around them, other students sat on benches or laid out on the grass, soaking up the weak rays of spring sunshine. Today, Luisa brought an intricate blanket that they all rested on, with Luca lying on his stomach and Dante munching beside him sitting cross-legged. A very flushed Giulia sat leaning back so that Luisa could access her hair easily.

Dante made to speak again, but Luca interrupted him. “I’ll tell you if you promise to keep your mouth shut and your food inside it.” The larger teen rolled his sky-blue eyes in annoyance but didn’t say anything, much to everyone’s relief.

“The headmaster wants me to start applying to universities.” Luca started, immediately his friends turned to him, their expressions matching.

“Cosa?!” Their table received several odd looks from the surrounding students who were simply trying to enjoy their meals.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Apparently, there are universities already showing interest in me.”

“You don’t think they know about, ya know.” Giulia mimicked swimming, wincing when Luisa yanked her head back into place so she could continue braiding.

“I honestly don’t know, I told Signore Bonetti I don’t want universities to know about it, I didn’t think to ask if he’d already brought it up.” Luca allowed his head to rest heavily against the pages of his book. Up close, the letters were indiscernibly blurry.

“I’ve never heard of a sophomore applying for university before, my mom has never allowed it. Have you been getting tens this whole time?” Dante looked at him incredulously. A red flush crept its way up Luca’s neck.

“That and a few extra-curricular.” He mumbled. Who knew joining the swim team and being the chess club captain would be so impressive?

“Aspettare, why aren’t you happy? Isn’t this a good thing?” Luisa intervened, her honey eyes never leaving her work.

“I dunno, I’m worried about more people finding out, and then there’s Alb- my family, I don’t want to make any decisions without them.”

Giulia shot him a look through her curtain of hair, he responded by nudging her foot with his book. They hadn’t spoken much since that incident happened, something that Luca wasn’t eager to change.

“Ya know, I’ve heard my mom talk about these exchanges that universities will offer to promising students for a few weeks.” Dante tapped his lips thoughtfully. “You’d have to wait until the summer after next to do it, but that would allow you the chance to experience college life without the full commitment.”

“Veramente?” Luca felt a flicker of hope and excitement flicker in his stomach.

“Yeah, take a few classes, sleep in one of the dorms, meet your professors, etc. That kind of stuff.” Dante waved his hand nonchalantly, “You know my mom would be happy to help, it’s her job, but, like, she reaaally likes you. So, instant win.” He popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.

The bell sounded, causing the group of teens to quickly finish what they were doing. With a hum of contentment, Luisa tied Giulia’s hair and helped the other girl to her feet. Dante and Luca helped wrap the blanket up neatly, being sure to shake out any remains of Dante’s lunch. The group split into two and headed to their respective classrooms with the promise to meet after school per usual. Luca’s last two classes of the day were physics and music, and he hurried towards his physics class which rested resentfully on the other side of the school.

As he passed a darkened alcove, his ears picked up the sounds of muffled giggles and whispers. He slowed down against his better judgment and peered around the corner of faded, blue lockers that lined the walls. Two boys, at least a year older than him, were leaning against each other in the darkened hallway. The tall, lanky blonde Luca recognized from the group of teens that Luisa had soaked near the beginning of the school year. The shorter brunette was unrecognizable, especially with him facing away from Luca and most of his body being overshadowed by Lanky.

He knew he was interrupting a private moment, but Luca couldn’t find it within himself to look away. Lanky leaned down and began to gently press kisses to Brunette’s neck who laughed breathlessly in response. Luca felt his stomach flip at the sight, and if he gripped his books harder than necessary, well, that was nobody else’s business. He wondered if Alberto would kiss him like that, or if he would prefer to have his own neck pressed with gentle ministrations. The thought made him sigh forlornly and rest his head non too gently on the lockers before remembering he wasn’t alone. The two boys jerked apart as if burned but Luca was already turning the corner at the end of the hallway before either could see him.

03 Maggio 1970

“Finalmente!” Luisa exclaimed, slumping against her towel in the sand. Luca could only continue to itch at his skin, flakes peeling off and leaving red scores wherever his nails scraped. Next to him, Dante was already removing his clothing, the pale moonlight making his skin glow like marble. The tall Italian hid a yawn behind his hand, his eyelids still struggling to carry their own weight. Due to both Luca and Luisa being sea monsters, it was agreed that they couldn’t attend the beach during the day where people might see them. Thus, it had become a monthly ritual for midnight swims since Luca’s first year in Genoa. With the weather being too cold during the winter, Luca had to settle for long soaks in Signora Mia’s bath.

However, this time around his skin had felt particularly itchy, and transforming during his morning showers had revealed new scales pushing underneath his older ones. He had panicked and ran from the bathroom with nothing but a towel and a shriek. After a rushed phone call with his mother, Luca learned about the extra joys of growth spurts and puberty.

“You’re going to have to swim daily to help your body push out the old scales,” his mother explained in her matter-of-fact way. “Your tail fins especially will need the help and they’re also going to be the sorest.” Daniela’s voice turned sympathetic. “Just a few weeks more and then you’ll be home, we can help manage it from there.”

So, for the past week, Luca with his trio of friends would all pile into Mia’s small, bright yellow Fiat and drive the half-hour to the ocean at three in the morning. Without a second thought, he was in the water, pushing through briny waves allowing the ocean to peel scales away with gentle brushes. His mother had been right, his tail was instantly sore once it unfurled in the waves. The spines along his fins were growing longer and sharper, their bases pink with tender new skin. Luca did his best to stretch his body gently in the dark waters, taking brief breaks to check his location in comparison to everyone else on the beach. The signora could be seen snoring loudly on her quilt and Dante was doing his best impression of a starfish, his face mashed into the corner of the quilt. The only two who weren’t passed out were Giulia and Luisa, who appeared to be in serious conversation near the water’s edge.

Luca dove back into the cool depths, the water burned his eyes in a barely noticeable way, and he wondered if it was because more tourists visited Genoa in comparison to Porto Rosso. There were also fewer fish here, although a stray school of fish could be found here or there. He felt a familiar tug in his chest at the thought of Porto Rosso’s waters. The year was finally coming to an end, with finals taking place for the next few weeks, and then Giulia and he would be heading home. Luca grinned freely as he thought about Alberto again, the tug growing stronger in his chest the more he thought about him. He wanted so badly to talk to his friend about his newfound feelings, but there was also the risk of losing Alberto over said feelings. And then there was the decision of attending university in two years, who knew what could happen during that time? The fifteen-year-old groaned in frustration, sending a burst of bubbles to the surface. A smoothhound shark swam past him, appearing to roll its eyes at his dramatics. Luca stuck his tongue out in defense, not willing to argue with a shark at the moment.

When he rolled onto the beach with a swell, the sun was beginning to crest over the ocean’s face. Giulia and Luisa both nodded to him, neither having moved from their spot on the sand.

“Did you want to swim a bit before we head back?” Luca asked Luisa, already knowing the answer. The Sicilian girl smiled gently at his offer before shaking her head in a negative.

“Is it a self-conscious thing because I totally get that. But just to be very clear, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Luca balked at Giulia’s sudden boldness. The redhead in question looked at him as if to ask why he’d let her say that her face turning the same shade as her locks. “Sorry,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around her knees. “that was too much.”

Luisa had the most genuine smile on her face that Luca had seen in their entire time together. She wrapped arms the color of caffè around Giulia, pressing her grin into her shoulder.

“You’re too cute, Giulietta.”

Giulia looked dazed out of her mind, her face the definition of a satellite that had gone to space and made no motion of returning to earth.

Pulling away, Luisa’s expression turned carefully neutral, and she appeared to be at war with something in her thoughts. As the sun began to pour its warm rays along the sandy shores of Genoa, the young sea monster seemed to come to terms with something. Sighing, she gracelessly flopped forward and began to push her fingers deep beneath the sand’s surface.

“When I was really small, I was taken from my parents by fishermen.” Luisa began slowly, “I was sold to a Circo da baraccone in Napoli, and I was their star of the show. The circus was filled with other people who had anomalies, like me. For the most part, they were really nice.”

“For the most part?” Luca asked quietly. He suddenly felt oddly cold, even with the rays drying his skin.

“Our… master,” Luisa bared her teeth at the word, “was not kind. He wanted perfection instantly and he was very greedy, he barely met our basic needs for food and water. Instead, he would spend money on alcohol and parties with powerful people.” Luisa traced vicious lines through the sand, contrasting light and dark with her fingers.

“When he was particularly ubriaco, he would wake us up at all hours of the night and run through shows with us. Every time we would make a mistake, he would use his whip.” Her fingers stopped. “I was just seven years old.” She whispered.

Beside her, Giulia had become rigid, her face pale and her cheeks were glistening with tears.

“One night, he was more violent than usual, and he knocked over a lantern. The whole circus went up in flames. In all the chaos, my tank broke and I was afraid I would die without water, I’d never made the change before. When I realized I could breathe, it didn’t matter because the fire was too big by that point. The smoke and heat were everywhere, and I couldn’t run.

“But then, Marta came back for me.” Luisa gave a small smile and finally met their stricken gazes.

“She carried me to safety, and we escaped together, never once looking back.”

“Is that what brought you here to Genoa?” Giulia’s voice shook, though she tried to hide it. Luisa turned to her and laced their fingers together and they both held on tightly.

“No, I was only nine. Marta tried to help me find my parents, but I couldn’t remember where I had been taken from and I couldn’t find other sea monsters near Napoli. Actually,” she finally looked at Luca, “you’re the first one I’ve encountered in all these years.”

“I’m sorry,” Luca murmured. Luisa raised her eyebrows in question.

“Don’t be,” She answered easily, though her voice caught, “for the first time, in a long time, I have hope.”

“Anyways,” she continued, “we moved to Sicily to avoid recognition and Marta did what she could to teach me how to be a human, including teaching me my letters and numbers. Eventually, she was able to enroll me into a school.” Here, she frowned.

“I didn’t mean to reveal myself, but there was an accident with water, and I changed. I escaped school, which wasn’t hard to do when everyone is afraid of you. Marta and I fled here and changed our names, she’s sacrificed for me so much and I feel terrible about it.” Tears began to leave pink scale marks over her skin.

“No,” Luca corrected gently. He shared a look with Giulia, and wordlessly they embraced the weeping teen. “You did what you had to to survive. And there is no guilt or shame in that.” Luisa sobbed harder, years of heartache bleeding out and dampening the crystals of sand. They stayed that way until there was no guilt left.

#a te che sei il mio grande amore #luca fanfiction #queer fanfiction #luberto #luberto fanfiction #luca paguro #alberto scorfano #giulia is tired of this sh!t #giulia marcovaldo #giulia x oc #ocs #my ocs #my fanfic #there’s one brain cell and she has it most of the time #mutual pining #long distance relationship #disney fanfiction #pixar fanfiction

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allsassnoclass · 4 years

Text

i blame it on the weather (can you make it better)

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Key Tag(s): College AU, Cold, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word Count: 6,177

Read on AO3

A/N: this was tailor-made for @michaelownsmyheart. I hope you like it darling <3 also big shout out to @clumsyclifford for looking this over and giving me Good Advice

—

Michael doesn’t remember the dorm being this cold when he left in December. He doesn’t know how the space between him and Calum got that cold, either.

—

The drive back to campus feels shorter than normal, songs on the radio flying by with other cars on the highway the further Michael gets from his family and the closer he gets to the loneliness of an empty dorm. Normally he wouldn’t mind having the place to himself, especially because that means he can blast music as loud as he wants and no one else is going to take the shower with the good water pressure, but there’s something foreboding about it now.

His phone is still empty of messages from the one person he’s been waiting to hear from. Two weeks alone in the dorms wouldn’t be so bad if he had Calum on the other end of the line to keep him company.

He pulls into his parking spot right as snow begins to fall, a little earlier than predicted. He sends a quick text to his parents to let them know he made it safe, then grabs his bags and makes the trek to his dorm. It’s an older building elegantly nestled between the newer residence halls with better air conditioning or elevators that don’t break down every month, but there’s more character to it. The other dorms are boxy and made of dark brick, but this one is lighter with turrets at the top and heavy wooden doors. It looks more like a fantasy castle than a dorm building, and Michael’s mum had fallen in love with it immediately on their campus tour a few years ago. Now that Michael is living here it’s lost some of its luster, but it’s also the only building to have single rooms, and while having Luke as a roommate turned out alright in the end last year, he likes being able to have the room to himself all of the time.

Michael fumbles for his key card to swipe himself in, biting off one of his gloves so he can get it out of his wallet. Thick flakes land on his coat and hands, the kind that would probably be good for making snowmen if he still did stuff like that but that will be hell to drive in later. Hopefully the roads will be clear enough by tomorrow, and he probably has some ramen that he never made from last semester that he can heat up for dinner tonight.

Inside doesn’t feel much warmer than outside, but there’s no snow or wind. Michael stomps his feet in an attempt to get all of the snow off his boots, but freezes as soon as he glances up.

Nestled amongst the armchairs, big windows, fireplace, piano, and little side tables that make up the front lounge, Calum Hood stares back at him like a deer in headlights. He’s got a notebook and pencil in his hand and a textbook open in front of him, blanket wrapped around his shoulders in a way that Michael wishes he were. He looks exactly the same as he did when Michael last saw him a few weeks ago, except he’s fully clothed this time. He looks good. He looks cozy.

He looks like Michael is the last person he wants to see.

Michael clears his throat.

“I didn’t know you were back on campus,” he says.

“I’m taking a j-term and thought it’d be easier to focus here,” Calum replies, lifting the notebook halfheartedly. “It’s a prereq for my chem class this semester. It turns out that switching majors put me a bit behind this time.”

Michael nods. Calum started as a music education major, then switched to an elementary education major before realizing he didn’t want to deal with little kids. Now he’s studying to be a high school science teacher, which means he has a few freshman science classes he needs to squeeze into his schedule. He hadn’t said anything about a j-term to Michael when he registered, but they also haven’t exactly been communicating much since before finals.

“I didn’t expect anyone back yet,” Calum says eventually.

“I got permission to come back early so I can take a few more shifts. Gotta pay for college somehow, you know…”

Michael trails off, unbalanced and uncomfortable. It feels wrong to be reacting like this around Calum, just like it felt wrong to not hear from him during finals or break, but after a few more moments of uncomfortable silence and chewing his lip he hefts his bag higher on his shoulder and makes an excuse about wanting to get his room back to rights. He feels Calum’s eyes on him as he leaves, the weight of his gaze lingering even after Michael has entered the stairwell, dug out his key, and entered his room. When he takes off his jacket he immediately reaches for a blanket, wrapping himself up and trying to suppress the shivers threatening to erupt throughout his body.

He doesn’t remember the dorm being this cold when he left in December. He doesn’t know how the space between him and Calum got that cold, either.

-/-

Once he has a bowl of instant ramen in front of him and his stuff more or less put away, Michael calls Luke.

“Good morning,” Luke answers, a leftover joke gone stale from when they were roommates with opposite sleep schedules. It almost makes him wish for a simpler time when Luke was forcing him to go places like Welcome Week events and they were literally running into people like Calum and Luke was forcing them all to be friends even though Michael’s smoothie got spilled and Calum dropped his nachos. Michael would take being newly flustered over a hot guy who got a strawberry drink all over his favorite sweatshirt rather than having Calum not fucking talk to him.

“Did you know that Calum’s doing a j-term?”

Luke sighs on the other end of the line.

“I’m doing fine, Michael, thank you for asking. How are you?”

“I’m bad. Calum is here and no one warned me.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t tell him that you would be back early, either.”

“That much was obvious.” Michael stirs his noodles, suddenly feeling like he doesn’t have the right appetite for this. “He looked like me showing up was the worst thing in the world.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m not,” he says. “You should’ve seen him. He hates me now, and I still don’t know what I did wrong.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Luke says. “He misses you, too.”

“If he misses me so much, he should respond to my texts.”

Luke hums on the other end of the line.

“You’re both in the same place now. Maybe you can corner him in person.”

“I wouldn’t have to do that if someone would just tell me what happened.”

“What happened is that you two slept together and then Calum ghosted you,” Luke sighs. “If you want his reasoning, you have to ask him. I will not be a messenger pigeon for you two.”

“I feel like that metaphor works best only if he’s been asking about me, too,” Michael says. Luke doesn’t respond right away, a drawn out pause that makes Michael look up from his noodles. He wishes they were video chatting so he could see what sort of expression Luke is wearing. “Luke, has he asked about me?”

“I’m not doing this with you right now,” Luke says.

“You fucker, he has talked about me! Do you know why he ghosted me?”

“Stop using me as a go-between! If you want to know why Calum hasn’t replied to your messages, ask him yourself. You both need to get your heads out of your asses and communicate. I can’t believe I’m the one who has to say that.”

Silence descends and Michael pulls his phone away from his ear to see that Luke hung up on him. Michael huffs. A second later his phone lights up with an incoming call, a very unattractive picture of Luke staring at him from his screen. He considers letting it ring out and go to voicemail, but in the end he decides to take the high ground and answer.

“What,” he says flatly.

“Sorry I hung up on you,” Luke says. “I don’t like being caught between you both.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I don’t like it, either.”

“Will you try to talk to him? He’ll let you if it’s in person.”

“I guess.”

Luke hums. They stay on the phone a little longer, small talk filling the silence so Michael doesn’t have to be alone while he eats, but he knows he’s being a bad conversation partner, too distracted by what Calum may or may not have been saying about him to Luke. When they finally hang up Michael flops back on his bed and groans, wondering if he should just move to Antarctica and change his name rather than put himself through this.

-/-

He manages to go the rest of the night without any indication that Calum is there. They miss each other in the bathroom, but every sound in the hallway has the hair on his arms standing on end, wondering if it could be Calum or just the settling of the near-empty building. He sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning on the sub-par dorm mattress, cuddling deeper into his blanket in an attempt to find some much-needed warmth.

The last night he spent with Calum, and the first night they’d spent together in that way, Michael fell asleep warm. It was almost too hot, sticky under the covers and burning wherever their skin touched, but he loved it. He’d take the heat over the cold any day, and he hasn’t felt warm since he woke up alone, bed feeling too big without the other boy in it to act as his personal space heater.

That morning the sheets had still smelled like him, but they were cold. He’d left long before Michael woke up. Michael’s first morning back feels like a mirror of that day. Right before he fully wakes up he catches himself reaching for Calum and coming up empty. When he realizes what he had been doing, he forces himself to get up rather than stay in bed and wallow only because he can’t afford to be late to work on his first day back and he doesn’t trust the roads to be cleared yet. The college is situated on the outskirts of town, an odd placement that puts a woodsy area to one side and only a few smaller shops next to it. Michael hadn’t managed to land a job in one of those places, but the family-owned restaurant he works at pays enough to be worth the gas it takes to get there. He throws on a hoodie and slippers and shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Calum is already at one of the sinks when he enters. Michael doesn’t let his eyes stray from his face, refusing to take in the tan shoulders and torso or the drops of water glistening against him, leading down to the towel wrapped around his hips. He has a toothbrush in his mouth, foam gathering at the corners of his lips, lips that Michael has--

No. He can’t think about this now.

“Morning,” he says, clearing his throat to get it to work properly.

“Morning,” Calum replies around his toothbrush, consonants muffled. He spits into the sink and Michael makes himself focus on his own morning routine, meticulously putting toothpaste on his own brush and hoping it’s not obvious that even glancing at Calum is dangerous for him right now.

Neither of them try to say anything more, and Michael wonders if the silence is hanging as heavily in the air for Calum as it is for him. Before break, silences between them were the only types of silences Michael could stand. He’s fidgety by nature and gets uncomfortable without background noise, but Calum always managed to temper that a bit. Being around him settles something inside, something that right now makes Michael want to scream.

He’s about to try to break the silence when Calum picks up his bathroom caddy and leaves without so much as a glance his way. Michael tries not to let it bother him, but he misses the weight of his gaze. Calum used to look at him fondly, filled with enough affection that Michael could feel it in his heart. He doesn’t understand why that would have to change now.

By the time Michael goes to start his car for work, Calum has set himself up in the lounge again, laptop open in front of him. He’s turned on the fireplace, something that Michael thinks they're not technically supposed to do but that he’s certainly not going to call him on, and he doesn’t look up when Michael comes down the stairs. Michael lingers by the doorway longer than he should.

They’ve spent a lot of time in this room, whether doing homework on the couch, trying to play duets on the piano in the corner, or hogging the chess set by the window, figuring out how to play and passing the time.

The chess board is set up for a fresh game. In a naive fit of hope Michael walks over to it and moves one of the pawns forward. Calum doesn’t glance up from his computer, but he’s still in a way that means he knows what Michael is doing.

On his way out he thinks he hears someone say drive safe, but the howling of the wind is already filling his ears and he can’t be sure.

-/-

Michael gets sent home early because of the snow. He fights it all the way there, pulling in late because he had to move so slow, and halfway through his shift the manager calls it, deciding to close up for the day. Right after he clocks out Michael gets a notification on his phone for a severe blizzard alert, and he steels himself to face it before leaving behind the warmth of the restaurant. Outside the world is covered in a thick sheet of white, plows not able to keep up with the large flakes still falling from the sky, and Michael wills his car to survive the drive, windshield wipers going furiously in an attempt to keep him seeing as much as he can. The drive takes three times longer than usual, and when he finally spots his dorm through the snow it comes with a sigh of relief.

Calum is still in the lounge when he comes inside and stomps his feet to get some feeling back into them. With the snow came a biting wind, and even after barely being outside he feels frozen.

“I was getting worried,” Calum says, startling him. “It looks like it’s bad out there.”

“It is,” Michael says, taking off his hat and shaking snow off of it. He squints at Calum, in a different position and bundled in a blanket now, the big blue one that Mali got him as a grad present. Michael once again has to push away the urge to cuddle up to him.

“It’s fucking cold,” he says instead, because it’s true and if he doesn’t make small talk he’s going to blurt something embarrassing like I’ve been thinking about you all the time or why did you leave me or I love you I love you I love you I’m sorry please can we be friends again?

“Going to be a cold night for us, then,” Calum says. “The heating’s been shit this break. I don’t think they keep it up as high when there’s only one student here.”

“I’ve had a few cold nights,” Michael snorts before he thinks about it. “I mean--I’ll use some extra blankets.”

Calum nods once. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, then snaps it shut again, looking down at his computer. It feels like a dismissal, like Michael isn’t worth his time anymore, and it stings.

He should go upstairs, anyway. He needs to find some blankets of his own. He glances over the piano and the fireplace, eyes landing on the chess game by the window.

Someone has moved a pawn on the other side. He glances at Calum, then moves a knight, continuing the game. He wants to ask Calum to sit down and play a proper round with him, but one glance at Calum’s posture has him biting his tongue. He’s closed off, blanket wrapped around him securely and face tense, and Michael can’t bring himself to bother him, not when interacting with Michael seems to be the last thing he wants to do.

Michael looks back at the chess set, three pieces out of place, and heads to his room.

-/-

The night comes simultaneously fast and slow in the way that all boring winter nights do. Michael sits in his room scrolling through social media while the sun sets around him, and when he does eventually get up it’s only so he can make more ramen to eat. He had lunch at the restaurant and never did get to the grocery store, but he has a few snacks to munch on and if things get really bad he can always see if Calum has anything he’s willing to share.

Calum initiated conversation earlier, so things can’t be too bad between them, right? It’s still terribly stiff and uncomfortable, but at least he’s not getting the silent treatment anymore. At least Calum looked at him for a little bit.

He plays video games until he’s too bored to continue, then showers and crawls into bed. It’s still cold, just like Calum said it would be, but they haven’t lost power yet. Michael piles on the blankets and pillows, but his sheets are frigid, not yet warmed by his body heat and making him shiver. After a few minutes of tossing and turning he considers boiling water just to have a warm mug to hold in his hands.

Maybe it’ll be better in the lounge with the fireplace on. No one’s here to get mad at him for falling asleep on the couch, but then he’d have to haul all of his blankets down there, something that he doesn’t think he has the energy for right now.

He wishes Calum were here. It feels like all he’s done since getting back to campus is think about Calum, his presence in the building affecting him more than it would have if he was fully alone, but in a pragmatic sense he also really wants a warm body next to him right now. Two people under the covers are warmer than one, and he’s already put on socks and a hoodie. Wrapping himself in Calum would keep him warm on a physical level, and maybe it’ll settle him enough that he’ll actually be able to sleep without having weird dreams or waking up every few hours.

He hasn’t even gotten close enough to touch him since getting here. Before break, he and Calum were always handsy with each other, personal space a myth with the two of them. It feels wrong to have seen him and not immediately gone in for a hug.

He flops onto his stomach, trying to get comfortable without disturbing the blankets too much, but sleep isn’t coming easy. When a knock comes on his door, he’s immediately awake and alert. He wonders if it was a piece of a dream instead, given that there’s only one other person in the building and late night visits did not seem to be an option on the table, but after a few moments someone knocks again.

The light of the hallway is bright after the dark of his room, making him squint at the silhouette of Calum standing before him, wrapped in a blanket like he always seems to be right now. His hair is messy, no doubt from his own fitful attempt to sleep, and Michael wants to run his fingers through it and put it back to rights.

“Hi,” Michael says.

“I called maintenance about the heat,” Calum says. “They said they’re having a bit of issue with it and will send someone out, but with the road conditions it could be a little while. I think they forgot that there were people here.”

“Oh,” Michael says. “Okay.”

He stares at Calum again, cataloguing how tightly he’s wrapped up and the way he’s chewing on his lips. Michael waits for him to say what he really came here to.

“It’s really fucking cold, Michael,” Calum blurts finally, a little desperate.

“I know,” Michael says, not sure how to tell Calum that he’d set the world on fire for him if it would help.

“It’d be warmer if we were together. Like, scientifically speaking. If we cuddled, it would warm us up a bit.”

“Well, you are the scientist in this duo. You would know.” Calum finally meets his eyes, looking up through his eyelashes a little in a way that’s completely unfair. He’s already got Michael wrapped around his finger, heart skipping a beat at the simple occasion of having his attention again.

He has it so bad that it’s pathetic.

“Is that all?” Michael asks, trying to scrape together some of his dignity. Calum has been ghosting him for weeks, and a conversation about the bad heating isn’t exactly what Michael wanted from a real conversation with him. He’s too tired for small talk and much too cold to be standing here when he could be under the covers.

“You’re shivering,” Calum says. Michael hadn’t noticed the small tremors, but now that Calum pointed them out he can’t ignore them.

“Come on, Mikey,” Calum says, stepping closer. Michael wants to lean into him and the warmth he promises. “I promise it’ll be warmer if we cuddle.”

“Do you want to come in?” he asks. Calum nods, so he steps aside.

Having Calum in his room again when the last time included one of the best and most overwhelming experiences of Michael’s life is weird, to say the least. It’s like Michael can see two versions of him: the current Calum, wrapped in a blanket and closed off in every conceivable way, and the Calum from that night, laughing at all of Michael’s jokes and spouting off facts about gravity to explain how they kept getting closer and closer.

“See, everything with mass exerts gravity on everything else, except typically it’s not enough to be noticeable compared to the gravity of the Earth. Your gravitational field must be really strong today.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No, Michael, you idiot. Stop misinterpreting what I’m saying!”

Calum surveys the room, the safety light reflecting off the snow outside just enough to give him silhouettes to work with. Michael wonders what he’s remembering.

“How do you want to do this?” Michael asks when the silence has stretched on for too long. Calum shrugs, so Michael climbs up onto his bed, sliding under the covers and leaving a corner flipped up in invitation. Calum hesitates, and for a moment Michael thinks he’s going to turn tail and run, but he throws his blanket on top of the covers and joins. The bed is too small to avoid some awkward elbows and involuntary brushes of clothing, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. Michael holds his breath while Calum gets somewhat settled, pressed against the wall to give him as much room as possible.

“It’ll be warmer if we’re touching,” Calum whispers, words hitting Michael like a shout with the close proximity and otherwise silence of the room. If the lights were on, Michael would probably be able to count his eyelashes, but now his face is a combination of different shadows.

“How do you…” Michael trails off. Calum reaches out first, a cold hand wrapping around his own and pulling him closer. They end up with Calum on his back and Michael’s head on his shoulder, legs tangled together. Michael’s sure that Calum can hear how loud his heart is beating, but he can feel Calum’s own beating in a similar pattern so he can’t be too upset about it. He can hear every inhale and rustle of clothing, can feel the soft cotton of Calum’s shirt against his cheek and smell the faint remains of his soap.

He’s warm. It’s not the burning heat from their last night together, but it’s almost worse with the gradual way that Michael can feel himself unthaw in his presence, slow enough that he could forget it’s happening only to wake up as an irreparable puddle.

“Okay?” Michael asks, sending flashbacks to the last few times he had asked that question and Calum’s answers: always positive, whether a verbal yes or a nod or a fierce kiss and wandering hands.

“Yeah,” Calum says. Michael swallows.

Calum starts tracing a design on his back with his finger, barely-felt with Michael still bundled up. Michael wills himself to stay in the moment rather than slipping into the past or wishing for a different future.

It’s not bad like this. He gets Calum close at least, receiving that little piece of contact from him that he’s been craving. If this is the last time they’re like this, he wants to enjoy it if he can.

He shifts, Calum freezing under him for a moment until they both exhale and relax a little more.

Michael closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.

“Michael?” Calum whispers after a few minutes. For a moment he considers not answering, sure that anything Calum might think to say in the dark of the night will be something he doesn’t want to hear, but all he’s been asking for the past few weeks is his attention, and it seems vindictive to reject it now.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

Michael should ask for clarification on what, exactly, Calum is apologizing about. He’s opened the door to this conversation, and Michael should take the opportunity to finally walk through and get their wires straightened out, but he can’t bring himself to do any of that, not like this. Not when Michael is breathing him in and stealing his warmth and there’s absolutely nothing between them to act as a buffer.

In the dark cuddled up together, Michael can keep pretending that Calum isn’t about to crush him. As long as he doesn’t ask for clarification, it’s like Schrodinger’s heartbreak: Michael can be both loved and lonely at the same time.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” he asks. “We need to talk about it, but I’m tired. And cold. Not tonight.”

“Okay,” Calum says. Michael waits to see if there’s anything else, but Calum just resumes tracing his secret design on Michael’s back.

Michael closes his eyes and hopes they don’t freeze to death in the night, twin skeletons found tangled together by some unsuspecting third party when the thaw comes. He’s not sure when he falls asleep and begins to dream, but in his mind Calum presses a kiss to his hair and Michael tries not to let such a simple action break him.

-/-

When he wakes up the bed is cold and empty again. It shouldn’t be surprising, certainly not after last time. There was less expectation to stay here, but everything is ugly in the cold light, shattering the fragile balance of the night before. Michael feels a pit in his stomach, but also a hot flare of anger.

Calum is the one who came begging for his company yesterday after completely ignoring him for weeks. Calum is the one who left without a trace after Michael showed him he loves him the best way he knows how. Calum is the one who keeps running away from this, but Michael is the one who keeps getting hurt and that’s not fair.

It’s a little warmer in the building now, the heaters likely getting sorted while they were sleeping, but Michael still grabs a blanket. No one answers Calum’s door and the bathroom seems to be empty. He heads downstairs to see if he has set himself up in the lounge again and knows he’s on the right track when he starts to hear piano music drifting softly towards him the more he descends the stairs.

Calum is one of the only people who ever uses the grand piano in the lounge. It’s slightly out of tune, just enough for Michael himself to notice but for Calum to complain about a lot. Michael has spent a lot of later nights in the lounge listening to him play, whether he was practicing back when he used to be a music major and take lessons or just playing for fun. Calum curses a lot when he practices, but Michael has also caught him with his eyes closed and a content smile on his face, letting the music take him away. Watching him like that, Michael sometimes wonders why Calum switched from music to science, but the rarity of the moments makes them all the more special.

He’s playing a piece that he’s been working on for a while. Michael tries not to disturb him, walking slowly towards the chess set where another piece has been moved in a continuation of the game. Calum must have pulled the curtains by the windows up, deep drifts of snow piled against them and sunlight reflecting off the white to set the entire room aglow. In this setting and with this soundtrack, the morning feels less frosty.

The last note hangs suspended in the air and Michael holds his breath until it dissipates. Calum sighs, breaking his posture to slump down, and turns to face Michael.

“You’ve gotten better at that one,” Michael says.

“Easier to practice when I don’t have to go to the music hall and no one’s here to use the piano.”

Michael studies him, taking in his rumpled appearance. He doesn’t look like he’s been up that long, still in the same pants he went to bed in and already folding the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands to keep them warm.

The sweatshirt he’s wearing is one of Michael’s. His heart flip-flops.

“Did you want to talk now?” Calum asks.

“Yeah,” Michael sighs. Calum nods once. He scoots over on the piano bench, making room, and Michael gingerly sits next to him. After a moment’s hesitation, he offers part of his blanket, nearly sighing in relief when Calum accepts it.

“I’m sorry for how I left, and for not replying to any of your messages,” Calum begins. “That was a jerk move.”

“It was,” Michael says. “You’re my best friend, Calum. If I had known that’s how you’d react, I wouldn’t have--” He stops, because he doesn’t want to say he regrets sleeping with Calum unless he has to. It would be a lie. He’d rather have Calum as a friend than nothing, but the will-we-won’t-we would’ve killed him eventually, and the night itself was amazing right up until Calum left.

“I don’t want to jeopardize that,” he says instead. “You mean a lot to me.”

Calum presses his lips together.

“Why did you leave?” Michael asks. “I thought we were on the same page. I mean… you wanted it, right? You said you did. I thought you did. I didn’t--”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Calum interrupts. “I did want it. I really wanted it. Too much, probably.”

“What does that mean?”

Calum sighs, looking down at his lap and fidgeting with his sleeves again. Michael wants to know why he’s so nervous. He wants to grab his hands and hold him steady the way that Calum does for him when he’s freaking out, but that wouldn’t be welcome right now.

“Michael, I can’t do something casual with you. You’ve said before that you’re not looking for anything serious, but I can’t be friends with benefits, not with you. Not when I’m in love with you. It’d tear me apart.”

“What made you think I wanted something casual?” Michael asks. “Apparently you couldn’t tell, but that night was kind of a big deal for me. I’m not exactly known for sleeping around.”

“Michael--”

“I’ve been crushing on you since we met, okay?” Michael says, turning to face him more fully. “I wasn’t looking for something serious with anyone else because I’ve been hung up on you. That night was one of the best nights of my life, and then you weren’t there in the morning. I thought I had fucked up. I thought I had ruined one of the most important relationships in my life.”

“You didn’t,” Calum says, grabbing his hand. “I should have talked to you instead of running away. That’s on me.”

“Yeah it is,” Michael sulks. “Why didn’t you? Why’d you just assume what I wanted instead of bothering to ask me? That hurt, Cal.”

“I know.” Calum grimaces, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I thought I knew what you wanted. Or didn’t want, I guess. I didn’t consider that you could like me until you kissed me, and you’ve never shown interest in an actual relationship. I wasn’t ready for you to reject me.”

“But I wasn’t going to,” Michael says. “You’re you. You’re the exception.”

“I didn’t know that, though. We didn’t exactly sit down for a conversation. Our mouths were otherwise occupied that night, if I remember correctly.” Michael opens his mouth to protest, then snaps it shut.

He doesn’t remember exactly what he said in the heat of it, but he remembers biting back I love you, knowing it was too early to be throwing that phrase around, no matter how true it was. Maybe he ended up hiding the sentiment a bit more than he anticipated.

“You still should’ve talked to me,” he says.

“I know,” Calum replies, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better with that.”

Michael squeezes his hand back.

“So,” he says, “you like me?”

“Yeah,” Calum says. “A lot.”

“You got that I like you, too, right? I said that. I’ve had it bad for you since we met.” Calum frowns.

“You took a while to warm up to me. I thought you were still holding a grudge because I spilled your smoothie.”

“No, you had me tongue-tied,” Michael says. “I had to figure out how to function around you. You’re really hot and it made me flustered.”

“Shut up,” Calum says. He’s blushing, crimson staining his cheeks enough for Michael to see, sending a strong thrill of satisfaction through him.

“I’m serious,” he needles. “You’re ridiculously attractive, dude. You’re not going to hear the end of it from me now. I’ve said it once and now there’s nothing to stop me from saying it five times a day.”

Calum laughs and tucks his face into Michael’s shoulder. Michael feels his own happiness bubble up inside him, threatening to burst. He brings Calum’s hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it in an attempt to release some of the pressure.

“Are we boyfriends now?” Calum asks.

“Fuck yeah,” Michael says. “Unless you don’t want to be, but that’d be lame.”

“I want to be,” Calum says quickly.

“Good,” Michael says. “Then we are.”

“Good.”

They sit for a while, and this silence feels comfortable again, like their old ones. Michal could stay suspended in this moment like the final note of Calum’s piano song and feel content with it rather than uncomfortable. That more than anything lets him know they’ll be okay.

“I’m cold,” Calum says eventually.

“We should move by the fire.”

“We should eat breakfast,” Calum counters. Michael hums and gives Calum’s neck an exaggerated sniff, making him squirm and giggle again.

“You should shower,” he says.

“Fuck you. That’s rude.”

“I could join you?” Michael offers.

“These showers are not big enough for two people,” Calum says. “Nice try, though.”

He stands and kisses Michael on the forehead, tucking the blanket back around him.

“Can I kiss you properly?” Michael asks. Calum nods and leans down again, the gentle press of his lips both familiar and thrilling, sweeter in the morning light.

“Breakfast, then I’m going to shower alone, then I think we have a chess game to finish.”

“Or we could make out all day while we have the lounge to ourselves.” Calum considers him, tilting his head and giving a wry smile.

“We can do that if you win the chess match.”

“Deal,” Michael says. It’s an easy bargain, because Michael is better at chess than Calum is, and with that prize on the line nothing’s going to distract him.

“Breakfast,” Calum repeats, tugging on his hands until he’s standing, too. Michael leans forward and kisses him again, just because he can now. Calum beams and leads him to the stairs, Michael tripping over his blanket and Calum’s laugh filling the room.

It could just be the heating kicking in more, but Michael isn’t sure he needs the blanket right now, not when Calum is here warming him from the inside out.

#my writing #5sos fanfiction #malum #michaelownsmyheart #lads. I cannot describe to you the difficulty I had in picking a summary for this bad boy #I'm sorry it's vague but you just gotta trust me when I say the fic isn't bad #I personally think it has some great lines in there #anyway I made the moodboard before I wrote most of the fic what's up with that #just felt Creative I guess #in the wrong medium because I'm really skimming my personal deadline here #anyway! hope y'all enjoy

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shyneanon · 4 years

Text

And our boy MF Sans too. Here’s the next chapter of The Boss’s Daughter. This story is way too fun to write. Like Skeleton Magnet, it’s on AO3.

Enjoyyy.

---

Once your lunch date with Mindy was over, the both of you walked back to your house and gave each other a goodbye hug. When you went inside, your parents asked you how it was and you told them it was good, leaving out any details about Sans or Mindy’s teasing (though you often had to omit details about Mindy’s sense of humor). You then gently and carefully brought up the subject of going dancing, leaving out that the place was a speakeasy, and you humbly asked for their permission to go.

They said yes.

You were so thrilled you threw your arms around your father and thanked him profusely, which seemed to convince him that he had made the right decision.

Mindy was ecstatic when you called her and told her you’d been given permission. She insisted that you should get yourself a new dress for your first time out, and you had to admit, you didn’t mind that idea. So you agreed to join each other for a shopping date on Friday.

Unfortunately, her parents dragged her into some social meeting of their own at the last minute, meaning you’d be doing your shopping by yourself. Perhaps it was for the best; knowing Mindy, she would probably have tried to convince you to buy something more scandalous than you would like to wear. The flappers’ dresses were very cute, but you weren’t sure how eager you were to sparkle so much. Not to mention that your father would rather burn the money for it than allow you to wear it. Instead you would look for something a bit less flashy.

Being out without anyone, even Mindy, felt liberating. You were shocked your father had allowed it— although it was in the middle of the day, and you were being driven to the destinations you chose. He wasn’t about to let you walk around town completely unsupervised. Rival gangsters did know what you looked like.

Eventually you found a dress you enjoyed; it was form-fitting, but not so much that there would be protests. It was also a nice bright blue, with darker blue sequins adorning it in a very pretty design all across the front and back. It was a nice balance between the flashy flapper dresses and the more boring, grown-up dresses you wore for formal gatherings. It took you a few tries to find the right size, but once you did, it fit very nicely. So you purchased it and left. You had to admit, the feeling of being able to splurge was quite nice.

You would miss it when you finally left the horrible environment you’d been raised in.

You decided to step outside and enjoy the relatively fresh air, sitting down on a bench. You kept imagining how amazing it would be to be somewhere where your father wouldn’t be able to see you. Just you, having fun as an adult with Mindy. Drinking alcohol, dancing… There would be boys there. Probably boys who weren’t criminals at all— besides drinking bootleg liquor, anyway.

Some of them probably didn’t even know how to use a gun.

Swoon.

A pigeon started to make its way past you, eyeing you suspiciously. You snickered, your worries forgotten for a brief moment. If only you had some sort of food on you to give it. Not that it didn’t look well-fed— it was a particularly fat pigeon.

You wondered what it was like to have worked for what you had.

The pigeon suddenly started as a pair of only mostly-polished black business shoes appeared in your field of vision. It immediately flew off.

Oh God no.

You didn’t even bother to look. You knew who it was. “Maybe Mindy was onto something. Are you stalking me?”

“Nah, doll. I think yer the one stalkin’ me.”

The weight of the bench shifted slightly. You turned to glare at Sans, who had leaned back and was making himself quite comfortable next to you on the bench. He had a cigar between two fingers.

“Do you need something?” you asked him.

He smiled. “Penny for yer thoughts?” he asked before placing his cigar in between his teeth.

You leaned back and folded your arms in an attempt to look as standoffish as possible. “I was just thinking that that pigeon was almost as fat as you are.”

He immediately choked on his cigar, so violently his hat almost fell off his head. He started coughing, and you felt your lips curl into a smug smile.

The smile vanished when he wheezed and then roared with laughter. He leaned forward in his seat, slapping his knee. Initially, you were annoyed. You couldn’t even insult him? He would just laugh?

But as his absolutely stupid guffawing continued, you found yourself biting down on your lip to keep from smiling. That didn’t work, so you tried biting the insides of your cheeks. That didn’t work either.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, his eyes full of mirth, “ya really hate me, don’tcha?” Raising his brows at you, he added, “So much that ya think about me when I’m not around, huh?”

Goddammit! How had he managed to turn the tables? You wanted to glare but you were still smiling. So instead you just said, “Have you not learned to not speak to me?”

“I don’t do much learnin’, sweetie.”

“Clearly.”

He laughed again. It didn’t seem to be at you, though. Why did his laugh have to be so funny?

Still smiling, he looked down and nodded at the bag sitting by your feet. “What’s in there?”

You shrugged. “A new dress.”

“Yeah? Will I get to see ya in it?”

You gave him a bitter smile, though at this point you weren’t sure if it was sincere. “In your dreams,” you told him.

“Absolutely in my dreams,” he said, winking.

You felt your face get hot. You wanted to scream. How? How did he turn your own words against you?

“What’s the occasion?”

He was still looking at the bag. Without much thought, you said, “I’m going out dancing tomorrow.” The corner of your mouth quirked up in a smile. “It’s my first time.”

“Didn’t think you were one to party.”

“I don’t because I can’t,” you told him. “My father doesn’t want boys talking to me.” Raising your eyebrows, you added, “Like you, for example.”

“I know that.”

“No, you obviously do not,” you said. If he really understood the gravity of it, he would stay the hell away like everyone else. “He will have some men find you, and they will riddle you with bullets. Or he’ll kidnap you and riddle you with bullets himself.”

His eye sockets lidded, and the lights in them seemed to dilate. A lot. He removed the cigar from in between his teeth.

“I know,” he growled, and the sound seemed to roll through the bench, through you.

You just stared, baffled.

“And I don’t care,” he added. Your brow furrowed. Did this man have any self-preservation instincts whatsoever—

His arm rested behind you on the bench, and you glanced back and forth between it and him. He was giving you the same look from the night you met. You felt your face heat up, but you kept a stern look on your face.

He leaned close, looking you dead in the eyes. It was like some kind of insane staring contest that only one party member was enjoying.

An inhale from him.

“You’re wearing different perfume,” he observed, his smile growing.

“You are going. To die.”

He only moved closer to you on the bench. You were tempted to try reverse psychology, but you had the feeling that telling him you wanted him wouldn’t end well for you either.

The two of you were so close, that when he spoke in a low whisper, you could hear every word perfectly:

“Your Papa can shoot me dead as long as I can have you,” he rumbled, his teeth almost touching your lips. “Just once. ‘N then I can die.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you asked.

He grinned that predatory grin, though the way his eyes lidded looked more drunk than anything.

“Sweetheart…. you’re what’s wrong with me.”

The lights in his eyes dropped down to your lips and he leaned so close that your cheeks brushed against each other. He was clearly moving to kiss you. Your heart started to race for some unfathomable reason, and the sensation frightened you.

You slapped him across the face.

He withdrew, rubbing his cheek. If only it could be red where you’d slapped him. That would be satisfying.

“Fuck, that fuckin’ hurt,” he muttered, as if he’d lightly bumped his head against something.

“Good!” you replied.

“OK, OK,” he said. “‘M sorry. I’m really sorry.”

He made eye contact with you as he said it. You blinked, then resumed your stony expression. “For what?”

“Fer flirtin’ with ya just now.”

“And how do I know you mean that?”

“I do actually like ya,” he said. “Not just…” He gestured to your form. “I like ya, yer smart. And fun, when yer not mad at me.”

“I’m mad,” you said, “because you just won’t stay away. There are so many other girls, you can go and talk to them instead.”

“I don’t wanna, though. I wanna talk to you.”

You watched him, and he watched you back. Did he mean that? Or was he just saying it so that he could smooth things over with you now, and then try again the next time you saw each other?

You took a breath.

“If you’re not lying to me,” you said, “then you’re forgiven.”

He smiled sincerely, looking more sensitive than usual. “Thank you, doll.”

“You should be thankful, you absolute idiot.”

He chuckled again. “You tell it like it is. I like ya for that.”

Well, you weren’t used to anyone liking brutal honesty. You felt the tension in your body dissolve just a bit.

“No lies,” he said, his look sobering. “There’s just… so much lyin’. ‘N cheating. ‘M no exception or nothin’, I just… It’s nice to talk about it with someone who won’t lie to you.” He smiled gently. “Y’know?”

For a moment, you said nothing. Was he trying to soften you up?

It was awful that you were even having to worry about that.

“I wouldn’t know,” you told him, though it came out far more vulnerable than you meant it to.

His smile faded. “... Yeah.”

You stood up, grabbing your bag. “I should go,” you said. “My parents will worry if I’m gone for too long.”

He moved to get up.

“No, you don’t have to do that.”

He paused. You thought a moment, then grinned.

“You just keep resting your fat ass on the bench.”

He snorted and laughed big belly laughs again, falling back into his seat. “Jesus,” he muttered, still smiling. “Yer great.”

It felt good to be able to say whatever you wanted.

He nudged your leg with his foot. “Hey.”

You were smiling now. “Mm?”

“Have fun dancin’ tomorrow, huh?”

Not able to put on a firm expression, you just nodded. “Thanks, Sans. You have a good time lying around doing nothing.”

He snickered, and you turned around and left.

***

When you got back home, you found your mother in hopes of showing her the dress you’d bought. She was reading in the living room, so you got her attention.

“Mama,” you said, “look at this dress I found.”

You pulled it out and showed it to her, and she smiled.

“You seem excited,” she said.

“I am!” you told her. You were going out for once.

“I’m glad.”

You admired the dress’s fabric.

“You’ll look very nice at dinner tomorrow.”

You blinked, your smile faltering. “Dinner?”

“Adolfo called, and your father invited him over for dinner tomorrow.” She shrugged with an amused smile. “He forgot about the dancing. You know he does that.”

Forgot, or had changed his mind and done this to keep you from going out? You weren’t sure, but you were angry either way. “So I’m just supposed to call Mindy and tell her I can’t come?”

“Yes.”

“No!” you said. “I’m not doing that!”

Her look grew stern. “(Y/n), finding you a husband is more important than—“

“I don’t want one of these men for a husband!” you told her. “They’re all horrible people! Every single one!”

“So I suppose your father is.”

“I never said anything about Father! But all the men I could marry are murderers, and liars, and cheats—“

She said your name harshly. You knew that tone. She was serious.

She set her book down and stood up from her seat. “We’ve had this talk too many times. You need to grow up.”

Your jaw clenched.

“You know as well as I do that you need to marry one of these ‘murderers, liars and cheats.’” She sobered. “You can’t just walk away from this life. No one can. Don’t pretend you don’t know what will happen if you try to walk away like it’s nothing. You know, don’t you?”

You said nothing.

“The rival gangs will find you and either kill you, or use you against your father. And then kill you when you are no longer of use to them.” She cocked her head. “And as much as many men don’t want to admit it, they need us. Our family is counting on you to marry someone who can continue building this business. You need to accept the life you’ve been given.”

Your chest was burning. You wanted to curse, and tell her that fuck that, fuck Adolfo, fuck everything, you didn’t care if your father’s business burned to the ground. And that you would rather get shot by a rival gang than be stuck for the rest of your miserable life raising children who would either become criminals or the wives of criminals.

But instead you sighed.

“I’ll go call Mindy,” you said, albeit through gritted teeth.

“Thank you,” said your mother.

You picked up your bag and went upstairs to your room, locking the door behind you. You hung the dress up neatly, and then sat on your bed, by the phone.

You reached into your purse and fished out the card that Sans had given you.

Blinded by sheer rage at your parents and at that ass Adolfo, you dialed the number and then waited.

The voice that picked up was loud and harsh. Papyrus.

“PAPYRUS AND SANS, ATTORNEYS AT LAW. THIS IS PAPYRUS. WITH WHOM DO I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF SPEAKING?”

Before you could stop yourself, you snorted and started to laugh. Lawyers? Really? You wondered if that had been Sans’ idea.

You hoped so.

“... WHO IS THIS?”

“Sorry,” you said, and gave him your name. “May I speak to Sans, please?”

There was a moment of silence.

“GODDAMMIT, SANS, YOU COMPLETE IMBECILE!”

He instantly hung up, and you stared at the phone, confused. You dialed them again, but no one picked up. The small spark of hope that you’d had started to flicker out. You just sat on your bed for God knows how long, feeling it die.

Had you said something wrong?

The phone rang and you instantly picked up. “Yes? Hello?”

“Hey, dollface.”

You never thought his voice would give you such a rush of relief. “Hi, Sans.”

“Sorry about that, sweetheart. Papyrus doesn’t exactly like me talkin’ to ya.”

You heard Papyrus’ shrill voice screaming in the background, though you couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“No one likes it,” you told him with a smile.

“Well, clearly you do, beautiful. What can I do you for, hm? Feeling phonely?”

You tried to hold back a snicker, but it came out anyway. You then composed yourself, going so far as to sit up straighter in bed.

“Remember when we met?” you asked, doing your best to sound serious.

“Do I?” he purred, and you were glad he couldn’t see your red face. “What about it, dollface?”

“And you told me that you could leave the party without having to walk out the door?”

“Yeah.” You heard a mischievous tone in his voice as he said, “Why do you ask?”

You hesitated. The rage was starting to fade away.

You forced yourself to picture Adolfo’s stupid mug again and you quickly felt the fire you needed to continue.

“Doll?”

“My parents are forcing me not to go dancing because Adolfo Acerbi wants to have dinner with us.”

There was a moment of silence on his end this time.

“Sans?” you said.

“Acerbi, huh?” He sounded like he’d said it through gritted teeth (weird, considering he always spoke through closed teeth).

“Yeah, him. He’s a lying shit,” you told him, taking the opportunity to swear. “And I fucking hate him, and he just ruined my chance to go out for once.” After a moment of more hesitation, you told him what you wanted:

“I want you to help me sneak out after dinner tomorrow. I’m not letting Acerbi ruin my night.”

Another moment of silence, and then Sans replied.

“I can do that.”

#Every time Sans shows up #MC is like FFFFUUUUU #fanfiction #fanfic #reader-insert #self-insert #mafiafell sans #sans x reader #mafiafell #mf sans #the boss's daughter #the boss' daughter

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