#Also I will start screaming in frustration if I’m stuck doing theory I need to get hands on I don’t want to write grant apps or whatever | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fallen-in-dreams · 3 years

Text

More Than A Fairytale

Also on AO3. Pairing: Itachi/Sakura. Summary: The first boy that was ever nice to her was the last boy she’d be interested in. And it just so happened to be *him*. He was her soulmate. She was sure of it. ItaSaku. Non-Mass. Prompt: Soulmates. Rated: T. Words: 4,245. Status: Complete. Author note: This is non-mass but with the nine-tails attack, though I won't be touching on it. At all. It turned out so fluffy and tooth aching and was a b*tch to write but it's here. Albeit late, though not too late. *hopefully* Enjoy. ^_^

Warnings/tags: Just for fluff, pining, light angst, etc.

This is a LATE (but still before the cut off time) submission for itasakuweek2021. Sorry for the delay @fm-white. Hope you’re doing well. Thanks for hosting this event. :)

“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.” – Judy Garland

Sakura wanted to scream and throw things. This was the last time she was ever going to be nice to boys! Ugh! How her mother thought any boy was good enough for her, she didn’t understand. They were rude and mean and all the other gross things that Ino giggled about when they were in the back of the classroom. She joined the Academy to get closer to a boy and boy did she regret it. She thought she’d found the one. He was just as cute as her book said he’d be. And just as interesting. Her mother had given her The Book when she started showing interest in boys and it became her go-to for fairy tales.

Magic and romance were so pretty and gave her tingly feelings.

But Sasuke-kun was definitely not her soulmate. Someone who was meant for her was supposed to be nice to her. They were supposed to be helpful and interested in the things she had to say, not brush her off and call her annoying. According to The Book he wasn’t it. And she didn’t care that he was the cutest boy in her class. Sasuke-kun was mean!

“Aargh!”

Stomping out of the classroom, with her bag on her back and her book hugged to her chest, Sakura ignored Iruka-sensei when he called out to her. She just didn’t want to be in the same building as Sasuke-kun anymore! No. Wait. Drop the kun. She growled, elbowing her way past other students. He didn’t deserve that honorific anymore. She deserved better than him. Her soulmate wasn’t going to get her angry enough to want to throttle him.

Sasuke was too skilled with kunai and taijustu so she couldn’t beat him up. But one day, she was going to give him a punch that could break mountains! And then he might feel half as bad as he made her feel today. Sakura continued to fume as she left the Academy building and headed out to the training area before realising Iruka had sent an older student to check for her. She quickly redirected and left the academy grounds completely.

Sakura was a dedicated student who never left the grounds during school hours. She felt both scared and excited at the same time. Sasuke was the reason she’d gone there in the first place. But now she felt like it was just a lie. Her parents never pushed her to become a kunoichi. She just agreed to it.

What now?

Sakura sighed. She had no idea. But at least she still had her book. With nice pictures and big bold kanji. It said her soulmate would be nice to her, helpful, and always put her first. Someone out there was going to be nice to her, she still believed it. She just had to wait for them to notice her. None of the boys in the Academy cared about her and while she enjoyed the theory and found it easy, the workload in the training ground didn’t excite her. Being a ninja sounded scary. Thinking about Sasuke and how cool he was would get her head back in the game, but that was before.

She wandered aimlessly, unconsciously taking a long way back home. And she was reading The Book and not looking where she was going when Sakura banged into someone taller than her. They were like a brick wall, and adult sized. She hit him so hard that there was no way to steady herself. Sakura fell back against another person and then forward again as the crowd jostled her.

“Aah!”

Sakura tripped, throwing her arms forward to brace her fall and dropping her book in the process. She cried out again at the shock and pain when her hands hit the ground, then tumbled to land on her side.

“Damn kid.”

The shadow of the person who’d accidentally knocked her down moved away and was replaced by another, shorter than the last one but taller than her. His hand was soft too; he offered it to her, and she grasped it as tightly as she could with hers. He pulled her up and she cried out. Something was bruised. He wrapped an arm around her back like he was preparing to help her along when she tried to pull away.

“My book!” she gasped, looking around for it.

The boy turned them so she could spot it. Faster than she could move, he stepped forward and bent to pick it up for her. She dusted it off and raised her face to his as he hooked his arm around her again. Sakura blinked heavily, surprised by what greeted her. He was wearing a uniform. She gasped, recognising the gear. Sakura knew about Anbu. She’d read all about them. They were the best of the best and nobody could ever beat them. Except for the Hokage. A boy maybe five years old than her was wearing a mask and Anbu gear. An Anbu had helped her!

“Let’s get you somewhere I can check your wounds.”

He didn’t offer to take her to the hospital. But Sakura didn’t mind. Maybe it was out of his way. The Anbu boy lifted her off the ground and gently moved them to a bench the next building over, away from the crowd and people she might slam into again. Her head was spinning from the sudden movement, but she clutched her book tightly and didn’t complain. Anbu-san lowered her onto the bench and knelt down in front of her, inspecting the scrapes on her hands and knees.

“These don’t look too bad,” he said. “I have some salve on hand which should keep an infection at bay. But you’ll have to wash it thoroughly at home, okay?”

She nodded. “Thank-you, Anbu-san.”

She winced as he applied the salve but kept the smile on her face as best as she could.

“Call me Itachi,” he said.

“Really?” She looked up him as he cocked his head to the side. His mask reminded her of a weasel. “Is that your super-secret code name?”

He chuckled. “No.

“You need one.”

“Not for you,” he said, and she frowned. “Just call me Itachi.”

“You can call me Sakura.”

“A cute name,” he said, and she blushed. “Are you okay now?”

She nodded, lowering her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m silly. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t run away.”

He tilted his head at her but didn’t ask. Sakura sighed. She had wanted to be a ninja because of Sasuke but here she was, hopeless and getting fixed up like she was useless. “I wanna be strong. Like you, Itachi.”

He sat down next to her, and it didn’t occur to her childish mind to wonder why an Anbu was wasting time with her, a silly little girl. She didn’t see the small, sad smile behind his mask as she reminded him of his younger brother. Nor the way he pressed his lips together in frustration at how sad she looked.

“If you want to be strong,” he said. “Then be strong.” He glanced at her backpack and the Academy sticker she’d stuck to the side of it, thinking perhaps she’d done so proudly.

“You think so, Itachi-san?” She wiped at her eyes as tears threatened to fall. “You don’t think I’m too weak?”

“Everyone starts out weak,” he said. “But if you work hard enough and never give up, then yes, I think you can be very strong.”

Forgetting her earlier angst, Sakura puffed up her chest proudly. “I’m going to be a kunoichi!”

“With that attitude, no doubt.” He sounded amused.

She grinned up at him.

“How old are you, eight?”

“Seven,” she said excitedly.

“I have a brother your age. He’s in the Academy.”

Remembering why she’d run out of school, Sakura groaned. “I hate the boys my age.”

He chuckled. “They can be very annoying.”

She giggled. “Definitely.”

Sakura hugged her book to her chest. She thought of the fairy tale stories and how the book said her soulmate would make her feel better every time she was sad. “Itachi-san, do you know what a soulmate is?”

“Soulmate?”

The girl nodded her head enthusiastically. “I read all about them.” She placed the book on her lap. “Somewhere, everyone has another soul. Someone who completes them and is perfect for them.” She peered at him. “But I don’t know if you’re cute enough.”

She giggled again and he looked around for a moment before turning back to her then lifting his mask for a moment. She gaped but he just pressed a finger to his lips. Itachi was very cute. She blushed and fiddled with her book nervously as he gave her a soft smile. She liked the way it made his eyes crinkle as they closed. He replaced the porcelain mask.

“Don’t tell my captain I did that, okay?”

Sakura nodded seriously. “Promise.”

He stood and stretched for a moment. “I have to go now. Make sure to wash your wounds and see a medic.”

Sakura felt her heart drop. “Uh, Itachi-kun?”

He looked down at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. So, to speak.

“Can… can we be soulmates?”

He didn’t respond at first and Sakura felt rejected. Did he hate her all of a sudden?

“Ask me again after you become a kunoichi,” he said.

“Oh, I will!” Sakura beamed at him as he bowed slightly.

“Goodbye, Sakura.”

She watched him as he took a few steps, waved back at her, and then took flight. Her mouth dropped open as he landed on the nearby roof and then disappeared.

He has to be my soulmate.

.:.

Sakura did not meet her soulmate again until years later. She didn’t even know anything about him other than his given name and the fact that he wasn’t a medic Anbu. It wasn’t until she met Kakashi-sensei and mentioned the incident off-hand that she discovered more about him. His Anbu mask had been distinctive enough (a weasel, which was ironic given this name), so she hadn’t explained that she’d seen his face. Which was a good thing, since it turned out Kakashi had been his Captain at the time. She kept her promise.

Itachi Uchiha.

Sasuke’s big brother.

Were the fates laughing at her or was it just fate? Sakura still believed that there was a soulmate out there for her, but she no longer held to the childish infatuation for it the way she once did. Plenty of shinobi had been nice and helpful toward her since that day. Just none that she’d been romantically interested in. She could still remember how kind and gentle Itachi had been and what was once childish infatuation had now blossomed into a long-standing crush. Even if nothing came of it, she would always look back on it fondly.

But Sakura never approached Itachi in the intervening years. Somehow, she’d painted this picture-perfect memory of that day and didn’t want it to be ruined by meeting the man in question in the flesh. Again. If he pissed her off, as was so easy to do she could admit, it would taint that day. It was like a fairy tale, her recollection of their meeting, and she wanted to preserve it.

Her avoidance of Itachi was made harder when Sasuke began (albeit grudgingly) inviting the team back to the Uchiha compound. Sakura always had somewhere else to be. She knew Kakashi was still friends with the man, and Naruto was raving about how “cool” he was after their first visit. But Sakura chickened out each time. She felt anxious every time their team finished a mission or sparring match and planned to head to the Uchiha home. The copy ninja was intelligent though, and sometimes she saw his knowing look in her peripherals. He wasn’t fooling her though.

He didn’t go either.

When Sakura approached Lady Tsunade about becoming her student it was six months before the Sandaime retired and the busty blonde was named his successor, much to her chagrin. She tried to get out of it but during a training healing session with Sakura, the pinkette mentioned how she was determined to surpass her teammates. A heart to heart about the struggles of the village and how the Uchiha were treated (brought on by Sakura’s still-a-secret-crush-on-Itachi) and a few days later, Tsunade had changed her mind.

So, it was at her inauguration after party (the first one in history since it was a stipulation of Tsunade’s acceptance) that she finally saw him again.

She wished she was old enough to get drunk. Legally.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

He’d grown. Sakura did not need a moment to recognise that face again. He was still taller than her. Still so good looking. Years of repressed emotions caught up to her and she inhaled deeply, trying to keep them and her reactions under control. The boy she’d chosen as her soulmate had grown into a handsome young man. Meanwhile, she was still an awkward teenager.

“Itachi…”

“It’s been a long time,” he said, obviously recognising her right away too.

She still had faded marks on her knees where she’d fallen over that day. Sakura hadn’t gone to a medic like he’d suggested. She’d just happily skipped home and told her parents all about it. Getting rid of the marks would have made it like it had never happened.

Her young mind had been so silly.

But looking at Itachi now, a full head taller than her, toned and dressed to the nines… she couldn’t help but feel as enamoured as her child version had been.

“I’m surprised you remember someone so insignificant.”

The corner of his mouth twitched when she started shuffling her feet. Fifteen-year-old Sakura was adorable.

“On the contrary,” he said. “That was a very significant day for me.”

She blushed, lowering her head.

“It’s not every day someone asks me to be their soulmate.”

Sakura looked up at him and returned his smile. She felt her face heat up even further. She couldn’t get over how attractive he was. Years of picturing him didn’t do him any justice.

And now I’m acting like an idiot in front of him.

Sakura cleared her throat. “I was so pushy, Itachi-san. I’m surprised you were so nice to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, embarrassed. “I was a brat.”

“And now look at you. The Gondaime’s apprentice. Everyone has nothing but great things to say about you.”

“Have you been asking around about me?” She asked in jest.

“Yes.”

Her jaw dropped at his candour. She quickly shut her mouth. “Uh... that’s, um.”

“A little too forward. My apologies. I was simply interested in the incredible young woman you’ve become.” He leaned toward her, whispering in her ear, “I hope I haven’t offended you.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine.”

Boys didn’t normally spare her much time and she’d been training so much over the last few years that Sakura hadn’t even thought of rectifying that. Her crush on Itachi was so fierce that no-one else had remotely drawn her attention. Itachi cocked his head to the side and Sakura realised (in her fluster) that he had an earpiece on.

Is he on duty? Then where’s his mask?

Itachi listened for a moment before tapping the earpiece twice and turned back to Sakura. “You should come around next time Sasuke invites you,” he said, waving to her before disappearing into the crowd.

Damn.

She had no excuse now.

.:.

“Sakura!”

Sakura winced at the shrieking tones of her mother. She was procrastinating because her parents and Ino had planned a party for her eighteenth birthday, and the guest list included a certain Uchiha she’d been crushing on. She hadn’t been avoiding him for the past three years. Really. Just making sure she was never alone with him. She didn’t want to embarrass herself with this ridiculous crush. Because Itachi clearly saw her as just a friend, and because Sakura had made the mistake of letting Ino organise this whole thing, he’d been invited. Ino also knew Sakura had a thing for him and was determined to have him there when she “came of age” the hopeful romantic that Ino was. She sighed deeply as her mother called out again.

“Coming!”

Hold your horses.

She straightened herself, taking one last look at the mirror and the pink haired girl in the dark blue cocktail dress before leaving her bedroom. She’d chosen the dress style in honour of her now legal drinking age. Technically, being a ninja, she could’ve started drinking when she became a chunin (or turned eighteen, if that had come first). But it would’ve been frowned upon and seen as unprofessional. Her recently promoted jounin self was a new woman. She could do whatever she wanted.

Ino had insisted on holding the party at the Yamanaka Estate so that more people could be invited. She was intent on doing this with the entirety of the Konoha Twelve.

Sakura walked there with her parents in tow since they didn’t travel like ninja anymore, but she didn’t mind. It gave her time to prepare herself for the onslaught. She was surprised and disappointed when she didn’t see Itachi there. Her friends and comrades came up to her, hugging and wishing her a happy birthday. Naruto had set aside all the presents and Ino was in charge of the music. While Hinata had chosen the food – Chouji was still hurt by that, but Ino’s excuse was that Hinata’s palette was more refined. And the girl would cater to everyone. He grudgingly agreed he would have just brought barbeque flavoured everything.

Sakura laughed along with him when he admitted it and accepted his one-arm hug before he left to attack the buffet table. She found a corner of the hall to sit alone, now morose. She’d gotten dressed up and, even though the idea of running into Itachi scared her, had hoped he’d be here. It was a full hour before she felt the familiar chakra as he seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Sakura took in his appearance: a suit, nicely pressed, his hair back, his dark eyes intense. She was standing and leaning against a wall. He looked like he’d been waiting for her.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Sakura blushed, clasping her hands together. “Itachi-san.”

She took note of how his eyes travelled over her body and stiffened.

What the...?

“I brought a present,” he said, “but Naruto-kun insisted on putting all the gifts in one room.”

She nodded, unsure of what to make of his perusal. Itachi had a drink in one hand, no ninja gear, no earpiece. He seemed at ease. Now, she’d seen him out of uniform before, at Sasuke’s house, but he’d usually just been asleep after a long mission and was still tired. He was never chatty or had a pink tinge on his cheeks from some alcoholic beverage, like he did now. He seemed out of character. But not. If that made sense.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she heard herself say.

“How does it feel to be considered an adult?” He asked, leaning into to whisper in her ear.

She shivered at the close proximity to him. His breath fanned against her face and his scent was overwhelming. It was… masculine. She had no other word to describe it. He had no cologne or other smell on him. She’d heard that Anbu he could cover their scents, making it impossible for enemies to detect them. But she’d also never seen Kakashi do it.

That was definitely some cherry flavoured mixed drink on his breath.

Was he flirting with her? She hoped so. It wasn’t every day that Itachi Uchiha gave anyone attention, let alone some random girl. Even one who knew his brother. Sakura had only gone to the Uchiha compound a few times after Tsunade’s inauguration. Sasuke’s father had since pulled him out of Team Seven to prepare for Anbu – some time-honoured tradition among their family, apparently. His replacement was a former Anbu, ironically, named Sai, whom Ino had recently been fawning over. So now Sakura had more of an excuse not to go to Sasuke’s home, where watching Itachi treat her like a little sister was too painful. The past three years, Sakura had continued to nurse her crush, learning everything she could about him. It helped that Kakashi-sensei had been his captain once. She gave up on being embarrassed asking him about Itachi.

They continued to talk. Sakura felt like something in the air had shifted. He was being more talkative, friendlier, and standing closer to her. It was almost like he’d come out of his shell. It was both terrifying and electrifying. She quite liked it. But…

“Itachi-san?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Are you drunk?”

Itachi chuckled. “Just enough.”

“For what?”

“Do you want to dance?”

Sakura gaped at him. A little voice in the back of her head told her to punch him to see if he was someone else in disguise. But if this was indeed Itachi, she’d never live it down. She decided to accept and ask him things that only they both would know. At least for the sake of her sanity. So, she nodded her head, and he threw back the last of his drink before guiding her onto the floor. Sakura watched with fascination and shivered as he slipped his hands onto her body. He must’ve had professional training because they were the only ones doing some version of a waltz while the rest of the guests were dancing either in tune to the rapid beat or to their own.

“Do you remember when we first met?” He asked, interrupting her plan to test him on it. She nodded. “You were so sad and cute.” Sakura flushed, gripping his arms tightly. He continued, now whispering in her ear. “I was patrolling for… uh, reasons I can’t tell you. Anbu, you know.” She nodded again. “My team were out of sight, my captain following the target. Hm.”

He hummed lightly, now stroking her hair. Sakura looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

Kakashi looks interested.

She felt herself flush again, so she turned away from him and focused on the mildly inebriated man holding tightly to her.

“I remember,” she said. “What was it you said to me? About being a kunoichi.”

Please be Itachi.

He pulled back and looked at her, a little confused. She felt her heart plummet in the few seconds it took him to remember and then her breathing deepened at the intense look on his face.

“If you want to be strong, then be strong. Everyone starts out weak. But if you work hard enough and never give up, you won’t be weak.” He looked so cute, trying to remember it word for word.

She let out an uncontrollable snort. “You’re drunk.”

“Not really. Just buzzed.”

“You don’t normally speak so readily with me.”

He sighed, leaning in to whisper in her ear again. “You asked me to be your soulmate, remember?”

She nodded, realising suddenly that he was confessing something.

“I didn’t think much of it for a long time. You were just some cute little kid that I helped out when she got hurt. That’s all.” He sighed again. “But we met again at Lady Tsunade’s inauguration, and you were all grown up. Almost. Sasuke called you annoying.” He held her tighter when she stiffened at that. “But you aren’t. Naruto-kun raved about you when he visited. A little crush that soon went nowhere. And Kakashi-senpai… he was cautious. I think he knew.”

“Knew what?”

Itachi pulled away and cradled her face in his hands. “Ask me again.” And her confused look he added, “to be your soulmate.”

“Ask me again after you become a kunoichi.”

Sakura licked her lips. “Will… will you be my soulmate?”

She felt like she was asking him to be her valentine. But forever.

He stared into her eyes. The rest of the guests fell away, and it was just the two of them as he appraised her. “Yes,” he said. “If you’ll still have me.”

When had Itachi Uchiha fallen in love with her?

The next thing she knew, he was pressing his lips to hers and Sakura was losing herself in the feel of him. He tasted of cherry, which was funny because that was a flavour not usually attributed to him. They continued to hold each other, just gently entwined and kissing softly. Everything was falling into place, and she could barely keep up.

Eventually, Itachi pulled away, smiling softly down at her.

“You read a book on soulmates. You heard all kinds of rumours of what Team Ro gets up to. Wait—” he said when she tried to interrupt. “You heard tales of Anbu and made stories in your head from what little Kakashi-senpai told you. But,” he leaned in closer, their lips almost touching, “I thought maybe you’d like to believe in something more than a fairy tale, for once.”

Sakura nodded and initiated the next kiss, adding more pressure to it this time. “I’d love to.”

They didn’t need some cosmic or magical sign to know they were meant to be.

#ItaSaku #itasakuweek2021 #itasakuweek #Itachi x Sakura #fanfiction #my fanfiction

46 notes · View notes

frederickthegreat · 4 years

Text

my thoughts on TUA season 2

(spoilers, obviously)

- opened with Klaus and Ben, my kings. Klaus’s hair looks so weird straightened while short

- AWESOME opening soundtrack

- seeing all their powers so controlled makes me wonder how they leveled up to that skill in the alternate timeline. like the only time we saw Klaus use the powers of other ghosts in the correct timeline was when two of them caught him falling out of the sky. however Diego did end up controlling bullets and Allison used her voice to technically kill one of the Swedes

- the homeless man screaming Allison’s name alongside Luther... funny shit

- big teddy bear Hazel

- Elliot was fucking awesome i think he was a great addition as a side character. rip tho :(

- honestly i don’t understand why Diego would WANT to save JFK. like it’s not that big of a deal. does he not understand what messing with the timeline can do??

- Lila... impeccable

- Sissy and Vanya... impeccable <3

- yeah and fuck u Carl

- ugh, Klaus’s beard. disgusting <3

- Ben and Klaus definitely act like they should be, given that they’ve been stuck with each other for over a decade. i’ve seen some people calling Klaus an asshole for not telling his siblings about Ben, which is completely understandable (cause he was an asshole), but I’m guessing it was because he was afraid? that sharing Ben with his siblings would mean that he would lose him to them, or his siblings would find him selfish, or they would ask something of him that he couldn’t give. if that makes sense

- that ghost bitch comment was funny tho

- to the guy who called Klaus pretty boy at the bar: sir you don’t know what you’re getting into

- Raymond!! he’s such a sweetheart, i really liked him in the show. i’m really happy that Allison has found a bit of normalcy (as normal as the 1960s Civil Rights movement could be). it shows how passionate she is about what she believes in: even though she knows the movement is far from over, even back in 2019, she’s not gonna abandon it

- Allison staring at the moon every night: either thinking about Luther or how the moon blows them all up. maybe both

- of course Luther would be working for Jack Ruby

- awesome cinematography during the mental asylum escape

- yeah it makes sense that the Handler would still be alive. she was a cool villain. although it would’ve been awesome to see how evil a fish could be

- Diego’s plan was pretty stupid. that’s my boy

- honestly they revealed how Klaus started a cult really well by having one of his followers find him at jail. Klaus, ever the musical aficionado, of course writes his scripture based off of pop songs

- Raymond and Klaus meeting!! that was cool to see how their paths connected

- Lila painting Elliot’s toenails green. ugh i love that crazy bitch

- i LOVE how they incorporated the umbrella man!! tbh i’ve always believed he was the one behind the assassination. Lee Harvey Oswald was framed

- honestly a bit understandable that Luther was planning on killing Vanya? cause he had no idea who she is now, but them reuniting was actually really sweet. he’s grown up so much

- the Swedes and their cats.

- the Umbrella company building with the nuclear family mannequins... creepy, awesome shit

- baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo

- shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego

- did anyone else get vibes from Klaus’s episode opening that he was an escort to the old woman? like how he was being shown off at her arm or something and getting out of jail from a call from the governor. idk maybe the lady was just very taken with him, as anyone would be

- Elliot, our helpful king

- Allison and Klaus’s reunion was so sweet!! i’m so glad they got to interact so much more in this season

- Ben getting Raymond out through a haunting... hilarious

- sweet intimate moment between Lila and Diego

- Ray meeting Luther was hilarious, but i do feel for the poor guy. i mean i’m not in love with my adoptive sister but still

- the sit-in was really well done and beautiful while terrible. the ‘riot’ that ensued was very appropriate for today’s setting

- D-Dave

- honestly i was scared that Klaus was gonna be overly attracted to him or whatever, which would be weird cause he’s years younger than Klaus, but honestly, at the core he just wanted to save Dave’s life. even if it means never meeting him in a different timeline. he truly loved Dave. and that ptsd flashback was done so well

- i knew Lila wasn’t trustworthy but i didn’t REALLY expect that!

- Vanya and Luther talking with each other, Luther admitting the apocalypse wasn’t all her fault. beautiful

- the Majestic 12 reminds me of the conspiracy theory that only a few families control basically everything in the world. the Majestic 12 may be based off of that, idk

- idk about everyone else but Klaus’s scorpion and the frog story made total sense to me! frogs ARE bitches

- the diner scene.... ugh. it really shows that the two of them did fall in love and they did stupid in love things, like talking about their family, about why Dave wanted to join, favorite colors, favorite foods, etc. however that’s seen later on when Dave visits the compound

- yes it’s very disheartening when Klaus is attacked, but honestly i think it had to happen, just like the riot had to happen. the 60s weren’t a fun time for lgbt people and poc. it was only going to be a matter of time before the show HAD to acknowledge the consequences of Klaus’s ‘flamboyancy’ in 1963 Texas. it doesn’t make it right or easy to see, but it’s realistic.

- it also makes sense that Klaus fell off the wagon after experiencing something like that. yes we all would’ve liked him to stay sober, but sobriety and recovery aren’t linear.

- Allison is so happy with Ray can we please drop this pseudo-incest plotline let’s MOVE ON

- Texas Grace ! who is not actually Grace rip (i think? i was a bit confused lol)

- the scene with Harlan running off was really upsetting but we got to see those weird light particles that we saw in the first season

- Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo

- Klaus being a dick to Ben again, as brothers do. i do feel bad for Ben though it must be sooo frustrating. that scene with him and Allison was really sweet and funny tho

- i just have to say that Luther and Diego are so fucking funny this season it’s awesome. like there are a LOT of good lines overall by everyone but they’re hilarious. “At least he didn’t shank my ass” “no bro, he shanked your heart”“Dads part of a sinister CABAL that’s plotting on killing the president.” “a caBAL?”“You two still a thing? *leans in* do we need to talk?” “No, she’s married.” “Woah dude... that’s rough.” and countless others

- the sibling reunion!!

- Klaus really does get left out of everything tbh

- Ben :(

- sisters and Klaus!! that was so awesome to see. and Klaus’s hairpins, Vanya saying she’s gonna tell Sissy she loves her, their dance sequence, Klaus calling Allison out on that incest. beautiful

- the fucking Swedish cover of Hello was PERFECT i mean i was sad for the Swedes but it was hilarious. there were a couple beautiful shots of the boat on fire though

- god it must’ve been so traumatizing for Allison to be thrust into such a hostile place with no voice and no way to contact her family

- idk about you guys but long live Team Zero

- calling Ben that he was becoming their father was a bit uncalled for

- the fact that Klaus didn’t help Dave’s chances, and in fact escalated Dave’s own timeline.. his trembling hands... robert sheehan is an amazing actor

- the Black president bit lmaoo loved it

- the way Reginald spoke to Diego.. i’m gonna throw hands with an old man

- Klaus LITERALLY looked like he was having a seizure and they all just... played it off??

- poor, poor Carl. nah fuck him lol

- that bloody opening scene was awesome! and thank god Five got to say fuck. the fact that it was about a candy bar makes too much sense

- Robert Sheehan acting as Ben: amazing showstopping spectacular he’s so talented

- the whole multiple Fives and Luther bit was honestly really funny, and i immensely respect smaller Five over bigger Five.

- yes Klaus, you survived a family of seven. you got this

- not sad about Carl dying one bit!

- Ben... that was such a beautiful scene. not just the content of the scene, but the cinematography. Ben fading away... Vanya hugging him... ugh. the main takeaway i had from that scene is that at the core of it all, Ben and Klaus love each other immensely. they have a weird, dysfunctional, fucked up relationship, where Klaus is an asshole and Ben definitely shouldn’t of possessed him without his consent, but they’re still brothers, and Ben forgives him.

- oof Ben’s funeral was hard. also was it just me or did Klaus’s kid actor sound weird? like it sounded like Robert was dubbing his lines

- all the siblings back together again!!!! Klaus going with Vanya to save Harlan!! Vanya telling him Ben forgives him and that it wasn’t Klaus’s fault Ben got stuck with him!! everyone in the car!!! be still my beating heart

- yeah didn’t see Lila having powers coming tbh. i really feel bad for her she’s had such a rough and traumatic life, especially with the Handler as her only parental figure

- the Swede brother and Five putting down their weapons: “enough.” the Swede wanted revenge for his brothers - an eye for an eye, but there was a mutual understanding between the two of them: they would do anything for their family. if the Swede hurts one of the Hargreeves, Five would never stop coming after him. i thought it was very beautiful

- mmm Reggie’s foreshadowing coming into play. proud of u Five

- the ending was so beautiful. everyone got closure in some type of way. except now Klaus is alone with nothing but his dog tags :(

- EMO BEN HAHAHA WTFFF?? is Lila in the sparrow academy? why was Ben’s portrait over the mantle piece? did Five disappear?? is the sparrow academy just older versions of the siblings who stuck around?? so many questions

FINAL THOUGHTS

- Ellen Page’s acting consistently blows me away. she is amazing

- beautiful cinematography, funny writing, pretty good acting. i didn’t like the soundtrack as much as i did the first season’s, but some of it wasn’t bad.

- i’m glad ben got peace, but i’m also glad justin min isn’t gone for good. his social media presence is too vital for us

- i swear to god if they keep treating klaus as a joke and don’t let him get any actual development like everyone else had (he barely got closure with Dave, he reconciled with Ben through a second party) next season, i’m gonna riot. PLEASE i want to learn more about his powers now that Ben is gone. what happened to seeing tons of ghosts when he’s sober??

- Luther and Diego were probably my favorite duo of the season, I’m so happy that they’ve reconciled and are bonding more.

- just seeing Vanya grow and be happy was amazing

all in all, really wonderful season. i probably liked it better than the first one. now it’s time to consume fanfiction and maybe finish my own (check out “god doesn’t want him and neither does the devil” on ao3!)

#the umbrella academy #tua spoilers #tua season 2 spoilers #the umbrella academy season 2 spoilers #the umbrella academy season 2 #tua season 2 #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #raymond chestnut #dave katz #diego hargreeves #reginald hargreeves

458 notes · View notes

anon-rebel-writes · 3 years

Text

Of Pink Fairies and Teenage Boys - 1

Hello everyone! I hope you are having a fantabulous day!

This concept is a little strange, but it gets better the more chapters come out! Hopefully the weirdness doesn’t freak anyone out too much XD

The idea was basically just Marinette being a fairy and Luka kinda being in love with how adorable she is. But now it’s a story about Marinette slowly helping him out with different aspects of his life.

I intended this story to be a slow burn, but I’m impatient so it’s going to be five chapters! :D

I hope you all enjoy this piece! It starts under the cut! Ao3 Link

The hot summer rays pierced into the porthole of his cabin. Light danced across his floor in a rich orange hue as the sun set for the day. The divider in the middle of the room was closed off as soft shuffling came from the other side of the wall.

Luka sat on his bed holding his guitar tightly in his hands - the knuckles turning white with from the pressure. His teeth were clenched and his jaw seemed tense. While this was far from normal, lately Luka was finding it hard to keep his usual calm demeanor.

School was officially out for the summer. Most kids were spending it at the pool or with friends, unfortunately Luka Couffaine was not most kids. He saw his mom working longer hours and coming home later than average. While Anarka wasn’t a woman to complain, he saw how not even her bright attitude could outshine the stress.

Luka decided to help out by taking on extra shifts at his delivery job. The money wasn’t crazy, but it could definitely help his mom out. At the end of the day, he just wanted to make her life easier, even if the extra work made his shoulders a little tighter.

His band, Kitty Section, also thought of increasing their practice times. His sister, Juleka, and their drummer, Ivan, wanted to change rehearsal from once a week, to twice a week. It seemed great for them since neither worked or had much to do during summer break, but Luka found himself worn thin from all the extra playing.

Even now, he found himself cringing slightly at the guitar in his hands. When did music become such a chore? All these thoughts continued to plague his mind as his left hand silently fingered different riffs and notes while his right hand merely tapped along the body of the instrument. It wasn’t hard to see that Luka was in a funk. Usually a bit of meditating would help him relax, but miniature distractions always seemed to pull him out of it. They tended to come from his sister, since she usually sat across from his side of the room.

But Luka didn’t want to blame her, it wasn’t her fault. Luka found himself easier to blame. She was just trying to enjoy her free time, it was summer after all. Yet every time she faintly hummed a tune or tapped her desk, he found himself tensing up and feeling frustrated.

The light outside finally left his room and soft snores were heard through the barrier. He barely felt himself moving as he placed the guitar back on its rack. A shaky breath left him as he ran his fingers through his unruly hair. Nothing was working anymore, time seemed to drag on and yet move so fast. When was the last time he worked on his hair? The strands covered his eyes more each day with the blue dye slowly growing out.

He quietly moved off of his bed to change into something more comfortable for sleep. Luka threw on an old band shirt and some red flannel pajama pants. But staring back at his bed, he felt restless. The corners of his eyes felt watery and he held his arms tightly.

Luka didn’t regret any of the stress. He was doing it for his family. It didn’t matter how exhausted he was after riding his bike all day. It didn’t matter that he could barely keep his eyes open during band practice. The only thing that mattered was that he was helping them.

He took a deep breath before trying to shake off the negative feelings. As Luka moved across his cabin towards the bed, the porthole next to his bed swung open, letting in a huge gust of wind. He instinctively tried to shield himself from anything that could fly inside, but nothing but warm air filled the room. After the initial shock, he moved over to the window and closed it tightly again. He looked over at the divider and listened carefully to make sure Juleka didn’t awaken.

Muffled snoring continued to sound out behind the barrier and he felt a small wave of relief flush over him before a soft voice whispered in his left ear, “Wow you look just like your picture.”

At least Juleka was a heavy sleeper so she couldn’t hear the girlish shriek that came from him. Luka jumped away from the voice, falling onto the ground next to his amp. His head turned towards the source of the voice and he saw a little bug flying where his ear was. But it wasn’t a bug, it was a lot larger than a typical bug. Squinting his eyes, he saw that the ‘bug’ looked like a human girl with wings.

“What. The hell.”

The little flying girl attempted to move towards him, but seeing as Luka cowered into the corner of the room in fear, she stopped herself. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you! I’m such a klutz, I don’t wanna mess this up already…”

Luka’s eyes were popping out of his head as he stared at her, trying to rack his brain around whether he had passed out earlier and just forgot. He was tired after work today, surely this must all be a dream. But the little fluttering person continued to ramble, the more she talked, the more Luka realized that this may be real. The bug-person-girl was speaking about an assignment, but then she started waving her arms around, gesturing to him and then her. Luka honestly tried to focus on her words, but her wings were loud and the buzzing sound grabbed his full attention.

“-So that’s basically the situation. Do you understand, Monsieur Couffaine?”

He definitely heard that. How did she know his name already? The girl saw his disoriented expression and sighed, “You didn’t hear anything I said, did you?” He nodded his head and attempted to shuffle closer to his bed, trying to find anything to ground himself.

The girl slowly moved towards him as he finally sat back on the soft surface of his bed. Sitting there was supposed to help him back to reality, but the fabric definitely felt real and not like something he’d feel in a dream. His stomach was knotting and suddenly he felt lightheaded. The flying girl-person-bug perched herself on his guitar and waited for him to settle down. After pinching himself a couple of times to make sure he was awake, he nodded over to her. She gave him a big smile and lifted a hand to him.

“I’m Marinette, your own personal fairy!”

Luka leaned towards her with a finger held out to shake her hand back. Now that he was closer, he could see her a lot better. The girl, Marinette, was surrounded in a soft pink glow. She wore a dress made from varying hues of pink petals. The dress was pulled together on her waist by a small string that tied into a bow behind her. Her hair pulled back into a bun on the top of her head, also tied with string. He squinted and saw that she actually had little feet, and those feet had toes. Which was a very strange thing to be amazed by, considering that she just told him she was a fairy.

In all honesty, despite the strange scenario, Luka found his face burning at her adorable outfit. Which was also a strange thing to think about, because she just told him she was a fairy. “Okay, wow. I have like- a million things going through my mind right now. I’m gonna need a minute-”

A loud snore echoed through the room, interrupting his words. Marinette let go of his finger and both of them went rigid. After what felt like an eternity of waiting to see any signs of Juleka waking up, the fairy flew towards Luka’s face to bring his attention back to her. “Wow. Your sister’s a deep sleeper! Even after your girly scream!” Luka should totally be offended. He should be, but honestly his ego was the least of his concerns.

“Yeah, Jules...she’s good at- I guess- sleeping? I’m sorry, I can’t really focus on her when you’re literally a fairy.”

Marinette let out a soft laugh that oddly sounded sweet, chirpy, and cute. Wait, why was he thinking she was cute?! Not cute. She was not cute. Even if her cheeks were rosy and her hair looked soft and- oh my god why is he thinking like this.

“Well, I guess I should re-explain myself, right? I’m a fairy. We are magical beings here to help humans out when they feel sad. Every fairy is assigned a human to watch over and take care of. After the human is happy again, we wipe our existence from their mind and they go on with their lives. Sounds like a good deal, right?”

While in theory that made sense (honestly it didn’t because up until this point Luka was one-hundred percent sure that fairies weren’t real), he couldn’t help but feel mystified. “Okay...I have so many questions.”

Another chirpy (and cute) giggle came from her and she landed next to him on his bed. “Lucky for you, I may have some answers!”

Luka slowly nodded his head as he watched her walk around his blanket. She honestly couldn’t have been longer than the length of his hand, so seeing her move around really gave him odd feelings, more so than before. “So...Fairies are real?”

Marinette laughed again as she began climbing on his lap. “Yup! We used to roam around in the open, but some awful humans began using us for our magic. Now we hide ourselves and help humans secretly!” Luka looked down at the fairy and saw she began rubbing herself around the hem of his shirt. This was definitely strange. Even if this happened to be a dream, he probably shouldn’t be imagining a fairy rubbing her face against his stomach, right? “Uh- What’re you doing?”

She met his eyes and flew up to his face again. “Sorry, it’s just been so long since I felt such nice fabric. I’ve always wanted to wear cute clothes like you humans do! Your shirt is so soft!”

Not only was he stuck with a mythical creature, but he was stuck with a cute one that happened to enjoy rubbing her face on him. Trying to push any weird thoughts out of his mind, Luka nodded his head and tried to look anywhere else but her. She seemed to sense his uncomfortable aura because she backed away from him and sat on the edge of his porthole. “Why don’t you go to bed, Monsieur Couffaine. I’ll answer all your questions in the morning, okay? A good night’s rest will help get your brain back in working condition!”

Luka looked at Marinette and saw her illuminated by her pink glow and the moonlight. His heart felt like her wings for a moment, but he shook his head to get rid of any strange feelings and stood up. Marinette watched his movements as he walked towards his dresser again and grabbed his blue hoodie.

Her head tilted to the side as she watched him fold it into a small bundle. He walked towards his bed and laid the hoodie onto his amp. Luka looked down timidly at the floor in an effort to avoid her gaze. “I just- I thought a hoodie might be nicer than the window.”

Marinette gave him a soft smile and fluttered back over to his head. She pressed her face into his cheek and then dove into the makeshift bed.

This had to have been a dream. There was no way a fairy just kissed his cheek. Luka found himself a bit dazed at her gesture, so he decided to lay on his bed to try and get some rest. Although with all the adrenaline coursing through his body, he doubted he would sleep for the next week.

At least that’s what he thought before strange dust appeared over his head and his eyes suddenly felt heavier. He glanced over at the nightstand and saw the fairy’s hands twirling in the air out of the hoodie, producing the dust that fell over him.

While this could all be a hallucination due to the lack of sleep he’s been getting lately, he found himself faintly longing for this to not be a dream. A tiny part of him wanted to believe that this could actually be real. But all those thoughts were for tomorrow, right now his body was focused on finally pulling him into slumber. For the first time in a while, Luka found himself peacefully sleeping with a tiny part of him excited for tomorrow.

#pro lukamari #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #fairy au #chapter 1 #ao3 #slow burn #but not really because I'm impatient #of pink fairies and teenage boys

25 notes · View notes

tanakavox · 3 years

Text

A look into the multiverse chapter 8 SAOA

Many thanks to my friend friend @bssaz97 for his work on the reactions. And TheGoldenBoy2188 for the strict for SAOA making writing easy. The next reaction will be a suprise so stay tune.

Amidst the streets of Mantle, Whitley Schnee walked towards a destination while wearing a disguise consisting of a coat, scarf, shaded glasses, and a flat cap. He had a mission and he would not waste this opportunity!

It was not every day that he could simply leave the manor without Father's permission or notice so he needed to be quick but not noticeable. He had waited months for this day to arrive. Whitley had pre-ordered the latest MMO game of his favorite game series a week before the initial release date and had come to pick it up. Having connections in the right places certainly did have its benefits. The only downside was he had to acquire his prize somewhere outside of his father's notice. So what other place to go than Atlas's sister kingdom.

Outside of his notice, a young white haired faunus woman with sheep ears followed close behind him. Fiona Thyme was out picking up some food for the rest of the Happy Huntresses when she noticed an unfamiliar person walking around. She knew almost everyone on this side of Mantle, so a new person popping out of the blue was very suspicious. Normally she would have reported this back to Robyn but upon further inspection she recognized who this person was.

It was the sole son of the worst man on Remnant and the newly appointed heir of the Schnee Dust Company, Whitley Schnee! Why was he here in Mantle?! Fiona determined he was up to no good and decided to follow him. Wherever the SDC goes, trouble usually follows!

Whitley finally arrived at the destination he was seeking… the Post Office! Now all he had to do was open the door, enter the establishment aaaaaand- stare dumbfounded as the inside of this place was a theatre.

"What the-? This isn't the post office. Where am I?!" Whitley shouted at no one in particular.

"Ah-ha! Caught you right where I- Huh? Where the hell? This isn't the post office!" Fiona also dumbfounded.

"Whitley?" Both Weiss and Winter stated in a mix of shock and disbelief at seeing their little brother. Maybe some hostility on Weiss part.

"Weiss? Winter? How-?"

"What the hell is this?!" A loud female voice shouted as four more people arrived out of nowhere. Consisting of two normal sized humans, a bunny faunus and a very large man.

"Coco/Velvet/Fox/Yatsuhashi!" Teams RWBY and JNR said collectively.

"Oh hello everyone! This… is a surprise! When did you get to Vacuo?" Velvet asked the group.

Fiona turned towards the new strangers, "Vacuo? What are you talking about? You're all in Mantle?"

"I'm most certain we're in Vacuo at the time." Yatsu spoke.

"You are in neither at the moment." Ozpin spoke up.

"What the- Teach? Weren't you supposed to be dead?!" Coco confusingly points out.

"I believe an explanation is in order."

*One short but informative explanation later*

"Wait so we were brought here to watch… alternate realities?" Fiona says after she and all the new arrivals had been told everything about the theater.

"We call them viewings but yeah pretty much." Ruby said.

"Hold on, I can understand why all of you were brought here, seeing as you all are huntsmen and huntresses. But that doesn't explain why I'm here." Whitley, having taken off his disguise.

"A great question indeed." Weiss mutters.

"I think I have a theory." Blake stepped forward. "So far now, I've noticed that the people who are here have at least some involvement in the viewings that we have been seeing. Remember that one viewing we saw of Whitley being stuck inside a video game?"

"I was stuck in a video game?"

"Also if you die in the game you die for real." Nora added.

Whitley's eyes widened at the implications.

"Well you're still stuck as far as we know. But apparently you're very good at the game so you might be fine." Jaune clarifies. Slightly feeling guilty that his alternate is the one who traps him there.

"Oh joy, now I'm trapped inside a place against my will in two realities!" Whitley throws his hands in frustration.

"Oh boo hoo! Is the rich boy gonna cry because nothings going his way today?" Fiona says in a mocking tone.

"Oh I'm sure you would know so much about crying and complaining about trivial things, thief." He shot back at Fiona.

"At least I think about the people of Mantle! When was the last time you thought of someone outside of yourself, Schnee!" Fiona retorted.

Winter sensing that this conversation was going nowhere stepped in between her brother and the happy huntress.

"Enough! None of us came here by choice so let's just stop this pointless arguing and move on."

Fiona huffed, "I couldn't agree more." She stomped away from the two siblings and found herself a seat in the theater.

Winter sighed, "It may not be ideal but as long as you are here Whitley, I would just suggest sitting tight and wait until you or all of us are able to leave this place."

"Hmph, very well. Thank you sister, it almost sounds like you care." Whitley took his leave and found a seat that was about four seats away from Weiss's team.

"Isn't there anywhere else you want to sit," Weiss practically hisses.

"Oh but Weiss it's the only seat that's close enough to you." Whitley affirmed.

Weiss groans in frustration, 'Hopefully it's only for one viewing…'

An acoustic guitar plays in the background as a montage of the events of and post-Episode 1 appears on the screen and a narrator began to talk.

" A month had passed since that fateful day. When everyone's world got all twisted, leaving them stranded in a castle in the sky. Since then, 2000 poor souls came to an abrupt and tragic end. Some by bad luck, others by sheer stupidity. I mean, really. Why would you just stand in fire? Anyways, that didn't bother The Kid none. He only cared about one thing, and one thing alone. Himself. 'Cuz in a game of life or death, you either live... or you die."

The scene transitions to Shirou leaning against a wall with an annoyed look on his face.

"What?! Two thousand of the players have died already!" Ruby yelled, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Not surprising, seeing as many of them looked weak last viewing." Cinder coolly replies.

Many huntsmen and huntresses glared at the red clad woman. She paid them no mind.

"Well thank you very much Narrator, you're doing a wonderful job of explaining the total death count of this video game prison." Whitley commented dryly.

"Oh, WOW. What brilliant insight! It's so deep it loops right back around to being stupid." Shirou snarked.

"The Kid ranted at no one, it slowly dawning just how alone he truly was" Narrator continued..

Whitley's eyes narrowed, "Am I being sassed by the narrator?"

"Maybe you said something to piss them off." Fiona added.

"Wait, what was that?" Shirou asks, shocked.

"He asked the sky, like a preacher to his silent gods."

"What gods? What are you talking about?! It's all bullshit metaphors with you!"

"He cried, not knowing the difference between a simile and a metaphor. The tininess of his brain dwarfed only by the tininess of his di-"

Whitley's eyes narrowed and face twitched at how much of an annoyance this narrator was being.

Weiss was doing her best to conceal her smile but was failing and breathes out a laugh. She was enjoying the exchange that her brother was going through and found it amusing. Her team gave her a side glance while Fiona and a few others laughed at the roast session the young Schnee was being given.

"Narrator off." Shirou commands the system with an annoyed tone.

"YOUCANSILENCEMEBUTYOUCAN'TSILENCETHETRU-" The narrator got cut off.

"Dick."

"Thank gods that's over, that narrator was extremely rude." Whitley sighed thankfully now that the narrator was silenced.

Weiss and Fiona grumbled that their fun was ruined.

Fade into December 2, 2022, on a strategy meeting led by man called Diabel. He gave a big smiled out to the crow

"Hey everyone. Thank you all for coming to our little powwow. Now, I know many of you may be discouraged by the fact that 2000 people have died so far."

" WHAT?!" A player screamed

" 2000 PEOPLE ARE DEAD?!" Another screamed.

"IT HASN'T EVEN BEEN A MONTH YET!"

"OH MY GOD, WE REALLY ARE FUCKED!"

"Pretty much, sucks to be you!" Mercury laughed.

"These are the people that have to survive this game. Honestly what was blondie expecting," Emerald facepalms.

"Hey! Just because they've lost numbers doesn't mean that they have to lose hope!" Ruby glared at the two assassins.

"And I know even more of you are a little down because we haven't even cleared the First Floor yet." Diabel added, trying to keep the smile on his face.

"WE HAVEN'T?!"

"I THOUGHT WE WERE ALMOST DONE...!"

"You were saying." Cinder looked back at Ruby.

"Well…" Ruby trailed off, thinking of a way to defend these players.

Diabel's smile wavered

"Uh, you guys do know there are 100 Floors, right?"

"WHAT?!" A crowd of players yelled.

Diabels sighed a bit.

Ruby, despite her best attempts, also sighed and sat back down.

"Oh jeez, I am just making things worse. Point is, we found the Boss Room!"

The crowd gasps.

"Now, we've formulated a few strategies with some help from the beta testers-"

"BETA TESTERS?!" A voice yells out.

"Oh goddammit!" Diabel groaned argnily

A player named Kibaou jumps in.

Kibaou, what do you want? Diabel looked tired addressing this player.

"Beta testers? They're the reason we're stuck in this game!" Kibaoyu sneered

Many that heard this player's statement and quickly frowned at his blatant accusations towards these 'beta-testers.'

"This guy can't be serious, right?" Coco stated.

Dianel looked at Kibaou flatterausted at the stupidity of the statement he heard

"What?! Do you have any evidence to back that up?"

Kiabrou scoffed at the question. "Pfft! Evidence. I don't need no evidence. Isn't that right, Jesus?" He points to a player named "Jesus"

" It's pronounced "Hey-Zeus", and I don't know you."

"Wow, really selling your reasoning by having no one else to support your claim." Jaune stated while crossing his arms.

"Well, they still should have helped us newbies!" He exclaimed

"If I might interject...:" A deep voice called out.

A big muscular man gets up and comes to the stage.

Velvet taps Yatsu's arm excitedly, "Hey you're in this game too Yatsu! …oh gods you're in this game too."

"So it seems," Yatsu, doing his best to keep a straight face.

Coco lowered her shades along with a confused look. As far as she knew, Velvet was the only one who played video games on their team. Unless...

"And who the hell are you?!"

"I am known by many names.", "Closed eyed demon. The memory easer., "Hooked clawed tiger". But you? You may call me... "Velvet".

"Velvet huh? That's a... pretty masculine name." Kibaoru said adwarkley

"Shouldn't be. It's a woman's name." Velvet replied casually.

"Damn it. I had a feeling but I didn't want to be right." Coco cursed quietly while shaking her head.

"Wait, why would Yatsu have a character named after me? That doesn't- ...Oh ...oh my gods." Velvet's eyes widened at the implications, tears starting to build. That is until she felt a nudge on one of her shoulders. She turned her head and there was Yatsuhashi looking at Velvet with a gaze that said, 'It's not your fault.'

"Kay, I don't know how to talk to you."

"Good. Then you can shut up and listen. Does everyone here have this book in their inventory?"

" Yeah.

" Yes."

"Yup."

"Yeah."

" No... Wait, can I change my answer?"

Velvet/Yatsushi held up a book to show to everyone.

" This book is full of tips and strategies on how to survive this game, put together by the beta testers. Everyone read it, yet some people still died. The beta testers did everything they could."

"Yeah, that means Mace Hair has no reason to blame the beta testers!" Ruby points out.

Many of her friends nodded and Yastu's team smiled at the sound defense his alternate presented.

" Actually, I didn't read it." One player chimed up.

"Yeah, I didn't read it either."

"I skimmed it."

"OH COME ON!" Many members of the audience shouted in agitation.

"What? Didn't ANY of you read it?! It is literally a matter of life and death." Velvet exclaimed

"Well, dude. It's like 80 pages." A player pointed

"2000 people are dead!"

"THEY ARE?!"

"Again. These are the people that have to survive this game." Emerald reiterates.

Brief pause. Shirou looks shocked at their stupidity.

"I am so done with you people." Velvet mutters, walking off the stage.

" What do you mean "you people"?" A player asked a bit offended.

The Faunus in the room narrowed at their eyes at the implications made by that player.

"What do you mean, "you people"?" Fiona asks no one in particular.

Velvet and Kibaou take their seats.

Diabel continued with the meeting. "So, as Mister Hooked clawed tiger was saying, this book has some great strategies, including how to beat the First Boss, Illfang."

He clears his throat and starts reading from the guide.

"So as you enter the Boss Room, he's gonna throw wave after wave of disposable minions at you... and you must answer in kind."...?

"Uh, what?" A player asks, mirroring Diabel confusion.

Many in the audience reacted just as confused. All except Whitley, who had a good feeling where this was going.

Diabel continues

"Send the weaker players first. Good rule of thumb: If a player asks you for gold 2 seconds after meeting you, front lines."

"Ha, serves 'em right!" Kiaboru said with a laugh

"If they hijack conversations to rant about their political views, front lines."Diabel said with a smirk looking at Kiaboru.

Kibaou went pale. "Aw, shit."

"Ha! Serves you right!" Nora laughed.

"If they ask female players for pics of their boobs, front lines."

"OH BULLSHIT!" One player screamed out in rage.

"THAT'S DISCRIMINATION!" Another one howled.

"BOO!"

Many of the women in the theater frown at the way those players reacted. Winter was more than certain that those players were the type that participated in the mentioned acts the speaker spoke on.

Diabel smiles and waves them down. "Now, now, people. I think there are some valid points being made here. Now, it goes on to say when Illfang's health goes into the red, he's going to switch from his axe and buckler to something called a "Talwar". At that point we should initiate a strategy called "The Final Solution" and- I'm just gonna stop reading! Jesus, who wrote this thing?"

Shirou giggles evilly.

"Of course Whitley wrote that book." Weiss sighed.

"Why sister, it sounds like that didn't surprise you in the least." Whitley pretending to act hurt.

"Please. The manipulative tone of the text almost makes one sound too much like you." Weiss bit back.

"Well I suppose you would know." A wide smile on Whitley's face.

Weiss scoffs turning her head away from her traitorous brother.

Team R_BY and Winter watched the exchange and sighed.

"Okay, so the guide's a bust. But it'll be fine. I'll come up with a great plan for us." Diabel smiles at the crowed.

"Like what?"

" Well... we... could... Uh... Uhhhh... I'm open to suggestions."

"Woah, guys, we could- we could, you know, like, group up and-"

"And hit it 'til it DIES!" Another yelled finishing the other player sentence

"Woo, nice!"

"Yeah!"

" High five!"

The two hive five.

"Well. It's something, right?." Velvet does her best to be optimistic.

Many of the more experienced members of the theater shake their heads.

"That's... a good start. But let's hear some other suggestions."

"I'd like to hear more about this "Final Solution"." A player in a german accent piped up.

"Fuck it, group up." said Diabel said tirely.

Shirou slides down the seats towards a girl, named Fiona, who's on her own.

Fiona blinks in surprise, "Oh my gods, that's me! I'm in the game! Hey other me, stay away from the Schnee!"

"You have my condolences." Weiss says to the sheep faunus.

"So, why aren't, uh, you joining anyone's group?" Shirou asked.

"I have my reasons." She said mysterioly

" Is it because you're a girl?"

"No. It's because... I don't know how to play."

"Because you're a girl?"

Many of the females and males who enjoy video games, such as Yang, Ruby, Velvet, Nora,, Jaune, Oscar, Ren, surprisingly Mercury and Emerald, along with Fiona herself, threw questioning glares towards the current heir of the SDC. Weiss and Winter glared at him as well but for other reasons.

Whitley looks around to see all the glares directed towards him. "Why are you all looking at me? I said nothing."

"No!" Fiona snapped. "It's just... I don't know how to open the menu."

"What?" Both Fiona and Whitley asked.

"Jinx!" Nora shouts.

"What?!" Shriou looked at the girl in shock. "But you can't do anything in this game without the menu. How have you survived all month?"

Cut to Fiona holding a piece of bread. She is staring at it intensely. "HOW DO I EAT YOU?!" She screamed at it.

Many laughs were had at the poor girl's predicament, despite some of them doing their best to not do so but could not help themselves.

Fiona slowly sank into her chair, covering her face in shame. Her alternate was the utter definition of a newb player.

Back to the present.

"It's... been a challenge…" She muttered before looking at Shirou. "What about you? Why haven't you join the others?"

"Oh, lots of reasons. Mostly because they're a bunch of mouth-breathing neckbeards who think "LMAO" is how French people laugh."

" Ha ha, that's so Le Mao!" Said one player far away causing to Shirou shudder.

Whitley in the theater also shudders in disgust. If these were the people that he would have been surrounded by inside the game, then he too would have avoided them like a plague.

"Wow. You certainly... speak from the heart."

"Funny, I thought I was speaking from my mouth. But, eh, shows what I know about biology." He said with a smirk.

"No one else wanted you in their group, did they?"

"Shut up! It was mutual!"

"And who would blame me? Have you seen the players of this game? I'm honestly surprised they lived this long."

"You're just saying that 'cause no one wanted a smartass on their team." Fiona smirked.

"I'm sorry, were you speaking Menu Girl?" Whitley nonchalantly retorts.

Fiona's face grew red in embarrassment and agitation. She wanted nothing more than to raise her hand and activate her semblance right now. 'Give me a reason Schnee, I dare you.'

It cuts back to Diabel smiling and clapping his hands.

"Alright, looks like everyone's grouped up. Get plenty of rest tonight, people! We leave at noon!"

A player groans "Noon?"

"That's so early!"

Diabel sighs. "Alright. What about 1 o'clock?"

" Dude, come on!"

" God, fine! We leave at the crack of... 2:30, I guess. Lazy butts…"

"Christ, I'm gonna have to set my alarm."

Everyone in the theater did not have high expectations for these players as they would face their first challenge.

Cuts to December 3, 2022 Floor 1: Illfang's Tower, 7:30pm. Everyone's at the Boss Door and everyone except Diabel is exhausted.

"Okay, so there were a few more stairs than we realized. Apparently real life athletic ability translates into the game. Good to know." Diabel looked out to the sad sight in front of him.

"Oh, god. I can feel my lungs trying to kill me." One player whined.

" Is this sweat?!"

" I peed a little."

" Jesus, this is sad." Diabel said with a grimace.

One player vomits.

"Congrats Jaune, someone else has now become the new Vomit Boy of this viewing!" Yang exclaimed.

Jaune rolled his eyes at her attempt at making him feel better.

"Fuck it. Why don't you all just take a Cheetos and Mountain Dew break, and we'll reconvene in an hour."

1960 Batman-Esque transition with Cheetos and Mountain Dew.

" Dammit, guys! I was kidding! You weren't supposed to actually take an hour!" Dibal said in a rage."God, we've lost so much time. Let's just do this already! You all know the plan!"

Illfang jumps into the center of the room and roars. Kobolds pop in, and an error message pops up on the third one that says "Error: "Sentinel_ " not found."

Ruby and Nora laughed at the mob that got glitched.

"Alright, men!" Diabel began,"Form up and-"

"EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!" A player screams

The armies converge on each other.

"Are they serious! You can't just go gung-ho in a boss battle!" Jaune exclaimed at the increasingly apparent, dim-witted players.

"What?! No! Goddammit guys!" Diabel begins to bark out orders. "Squad B, quit attacking the Boss and keep the Sentinels off us! C, D, stop attacking from the front! Do you even know what "flank" means?! Squad F, for fuck's sake! Stop playing Bejeweled! *Groans* Squad G, get in there and help A and B!"

"Got it!" Shirou said with a nod rushing in.

"Don't talk back to…" Diabel did a double take."l Holy shit, really?!"

"How is Whitley the most sensible minded player in this game?!" Weiss asked.

"Weiss, have you seen the other players?" Blake asked her in a deadpanned tone.

"...Yes you're right, that's actually too much of an insult." Weiss admits.

Shirou attacks a Sentinel, leaving Fiona to finish it off.

"Okay, Fiona! What you're gonna wanna do here is-"

Fiona lets out a Battle Cry and kills the Sentinel in one hit.

Fiona in the theater perked up at this display, "Oh my- I can fight! Oh thank gods I can fight!"

Shirou eyes widened in shock "Wow, I thought she was hopeless, but her technique is flawless. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's even better than I-"

"Hey Shirou! I killed the thing and now it says I have XPs! Is that bad? Am I dying?! Fiona cried out to him in fear."

Shirou rolls his eyes"Or... maybe... not."

"Miss Fiona, either your alternate is very lucky or is very out of base with technology. I can't tell which it is." Whitley stated.

"Shut up Schnee, she's trying!" Fiona defends her other self.

Illfang's health drops into the red. He snarls at the players and he tosses his weapons.

"Alright, men! This last part's gonna take careful coordination…" Diabel ran towards Illfang. "which is why I'm just gonna do it myself!"

Diabel charges his weapon art. Illfang draws his Ōdachi.

Ruby's eyes widened, "OH NO!"

Shirou looked and saw the weapon and his eyes widened calling to Diabel. "Oh shit! Diabel, look out! That's not a Talwar! It's an Ōdachi!"

"What's the difference?!" Diabel ask still running towards Illfang.

"Well, a Talwar is of Indian descent while an Ōdachi is Japanese! While both are primarily slashing weapons, the Talwar was favored by cavalrymen, as opposed to an Ōdachi which was mainly used for dick measuring!" As Shirou is talking, Illfang starts jumping off the walls.

" What's your point?!" Diabel asked impaintely.

"Well if you let me finish, I was getting to that! You see…"

Diabel gets hit by Illfang, screaming in pain.

Many of the huntsmen and huntresses in the theater either gasped in fear or looked away at the surely doomed player.

"What's happening? Did I miss something?" Fox called out.

"Oops." Shirou sheepishly said.

Illfang hits Diabel again, sending him flying.

"DIABEL!" Kibaou yelled out.

Illfang pops down in front of Kibaou and roars. A message pops up "Bonus Item: Soiled Pants". Above Kibaou

"Hey, rare drop!' A player said cheerfully.

Mercury laughed at the joke while most of the others were disgusted by the fact that that achievement was unlockable.

Shirou runs over to Diabel and holds him up.

" I was trying to say an Ōdachi's a little bit longer than a Talwar, so it'll have more reach and do a bit more damage."

"And why couldn't you say that first?" Diabel asked weakly

"Yeah you dummy! You almost might've killed him!" Ruby cries out.

Whitley was actually taken aback by that statement. Sure he had moments of pride and arrogance, sometimes he looked down on people but he didn't believe he would ever intentionally kill someone.

" I like to think of myself as a teacher. Anyway, drink this."

Shirou tries to give Diabel a healing potion but he stopped Shirou shaking his head.

"No. It's better this way. I just can't do it anymore. I had such high hopes at first. But now? Our best player is a girl who thinks DPS is some kind of sex thing." Both turned to glance to Fiona.

"I know. It's weird, right?"

Fiona sulked more into her chair.

"You're clearly not like the rest of them. How do you stand it, Shirou? Where do you draw your strength?" Diabel look at Shirou like a sage.

Shirou sigh and drops his wisdom onto him. "I've been playing MMO's a long time, Diabel, and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that lions do not concern himself with the opinions of sheep. Just take that little voice in your head that tells you to be tactful and understanding... and shoot it. Shoot it in the goddamn face."

" You are so wise. If only I'd met you sooner. Perhaps, things would have been different. You must lead them now. Show them this game can be beaten." Diabel let's go of Shirou wrist.

Weiss was taken aback that this man was actually willing to place trust in this alternate of her brother. This stranger who barely even knows him placed the lives of all the players into his hands. Much like how she tried to trust Whitley once… this caused a bitter frown to grow on her face in recollection. Even if this was a different version of him, it was still Whitley in her eyes.

Shirou smiles fondly at Diabel. "Another life... in another time... I think we could have been friends."

"I... doubt it." Diabel gasps out before turning to shattered glass, dying.

" Well fuck you, too!" Shirou said angrily his smile dropping into a frown.

Fiona slips in by Shirou's side and began to lay out a plan.

"Alright, Shirou. Here's what we'll do. One counters his blows to knock him off balance and the other switches in to attack. Rinse. Repeat. Victory."

Shirou looked at her with one eye. "You came up with that, but you can't open a menu."

"Shut up!" Fiona cried out.

Illfang roars and they take off running toward him.

"Alright, so you counter and I'll attack!" Shirou yelled to Fiona.

"What? No, it's my plan! I should attack!" Fiona yelled back.

"Fine, just get ready!"

Shirou makes a battle cry and counters Illfang's attack.

"SWITCH!"

Fiona moves in and gets her cloak destroyed by Illfang before attacking revealing white curly hair and sheep ears.

" See? You almost got yourself killed! I'll attack him!" Shirou yelled again and began to attack Illfang.

"Oh, that was a fluke, and you know it! He's mine!" Fiona yelled back.

Fiona attacks Illfang.

"Oh shit. They're actually giving that boss the work!" Coco called out.

"He's mine!" Shirou yelled.

Shirou blocks Illfang's next attack, but Fiona attacks him before Shirou can do so himself.:

"Mine!" Fiona screams

"NO! HE'S! MIIIIIIIIIIINE!"

Shirou slices Illfang and he explodes. Everyone is stunned. Lame party kazoo sound effect and a banner with the word "CONGRATULATION" appears.

"Yeah!" A player cheer.

This caused almost everyone in the audience to laugh. Despite the dark humor of it all, it was still pretty hilarious.

"What happened? Did they win?" Fox asks

"Oh yes, I'm sorry Fox! They beat the boss and a victory banner came out."

"...heh." Fox chuckled.

Shirou is panting. He gets an item as a reward for defeating the Boss.

"Congratulations!" Velvet said, patting him on the back. "That was even more impressive than that cat that learned to play."

Cut to a player with a cat's head, with another player staring at it.

"Meow."

"Huh what did you know?" Yang replied.

"Oh my god! You guys can see it too?! So I'm not crazy! Isn't that great, Jesus?!" We see things from the players' perceptive, with a giant hallucination of Jesus Christ looming over the crowd.

"That's right, Jeffrey. Now... kill them all." Jesus said, his voice growing darker.

"As you command, my Lord." Jeffrey whispered.

"Somethings very wrong with that guy." Qrow states.

"I honestly agree with you, Branwen… Blegh! That left a horrible taste in my mouth." Winter stated.

Cut back to Velvet talking to Shirou. The other players are applauding his victory.

"You've led us to victory, Shirou. These men and I will follow you to hell itself. Now... address your people." Velvet is smiling and pushing Shirou to the crowd.

Shirou gets up and smirks. "I always knew this day would come. Ahem. Fellow gamers! We have traveled far and up many stairs to get to this point. Fighting side by side, noobs, and leets, alike. I'd like to take a moment to say that I couldn't have done it without the help of each and every one of you."

"Aw, that's a nice thing to say-" Velvet was cut off when Shirou counties.

"Of course, I'm not a liar, so I'm not gonna say any of that."

"Oh shit."

"I thought as much." Weiss states.

Shirou grins look at the group. "I mean, really. I could've done this whole Boss Fight myself. But to be fair, I guess you did absorb a bit of damage for me, which was nice. You were an adequate meat shield, and no one can ever take that away from you."

"Fuck. Fuck! Shut up! SHUT UP!" Velvet started to say.

"So for those of you who came in late, and that one guy playing Bejeweled back there... shoot for the stars... it'll make it more fun when I kick you back into the dirt."

"You're not better than us!" Kiaboru said.

"Yeah! What makes you think you're so cool?!" Nora shouts to the screen.

Shirou equips the coat he got for beating Illfang and smugly looks at the group."My sweet-ass coat begs to differ."

"Dammit, he's got us there." one player muttered.

Shirou ascends the stairs out of the Boss Room. Fiona follows him and grabs him by the shoulder. "Shirou, wait!"

Those in the audience looked on at Fiona's alternate in hope. Surely she could turn him around after their excellent display of partnership.

"I want half." She said, staring at him blankly.

That hope was quickly squashed, shot at, and finally burned to death via gasoline and cracking a fire dust crystal.

Shirou turns to her confused. " I'm... sorry. What?!"

"I want half the coat. I did half the work, I should get half the coat." Fiona explain and extends her hand for him give it to her.

"No! It's not fabric I can cut! It's just a bunch of 1s and 0s!" Shirou was getting frustrated.

"Fine, then give me the 1s."

" Fuck you! I want the 1s!" He groans and open the menu. "I am not having this argument. I'm disolving this party." Shirou opens his menu and "Di-solves" their party.

"Shirou! If you walk away with my half of the coat, I will make your life a living hell!" Fiona screamed.

"You know what? Fine! I'll give you the damn coat! Just send me a trade request."

"A... what?"

Fiona's eyes widened as she watched from the theater, "No…"

Shirou grins viciously "Oh, it's quite simple really... Just open your menu." Shirou starts laughing maniacally as he walks out the doors as Fiona screams at him:"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" At him.

Outro Plays.

Fiona screams, "I can't believe the nerve of that-! GRAAAAH!"

"Can you please stop screaming! You're going to cause everyone's ears to bleed." Whitley said while using a handkerchief to rub his ears.

Fiona huffed then matched off, going to another place in the theater.

"Well that was interesting. So you all say there's other viewings where we see other worlds besides this one." Coco asked the group.

"Oh yeah, we've seen a couple worlds ourselves, but only a handful I'd say." Yang admits.

"Well as long as we're here, we might as well take time to catch up." Velvet smiled.

"Yeah, this will be great! It's almost like we're back at Beacon, right Weiss? ...Weiss?" Ruby looks beside her but noticed that her partner was not with them anymore.

In another side of the theater, the all three Schnee siblings stand together. Both of the youngest siblings look at Winter who brought them here.

Winter clears her throat, "I understand that there are some… tension between the three of us during this viewing. So I asked you both here so that we may come to terms with our situation."

Weiss scoffs, "Come to terms with him! I highly doubt that."

Whitley crosses his arms, "Yes it does seem like a lost cause Winter."

"Enough! Both of you!" Winter raised her voice causing both of her younger siblings to go rigid. "I'm not expecting you to get along or even apologize to each other at the moment. What I ask is if you two can at least act civil with one another while in the theater?"

Both Weiss and Whitley looked at each other and sneered at each other.

"Why of course I can be civil with Whitley. It is a virtue of a lady to be civil at all times." Weiss said with hidden venom.

"Quite true, but being civil is also a quality an heir of the Schnee family must cultivate as well. So I look forward to spending this immeasurable amount of time with you my sisters." Whitley said with his best presentable smile.

"Yes, how I enjoy us taking this time to reacquaint with each other." Weiss said while one of her eyes was twitching.

"Well then sister, shall we?" Whitley gestured for Weiss to go ahead of him. Almost would have been believable if one did not notice the glint in his eyes and his strained smile.

Winter watched as both Weiss and Whitley walked back to the auditorium where everyone else had remained.

"...This can only end badly."

Hope you enjoyed.

22 notes · View notes

asterekmess · 4 years

Note

honestly, my fury at the lack of werewolf culture/history/worldbuilding is worthy of its own post. Let me know if by some ungodly chance, you actually wanna hear my thoughts on it // Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

ohmygod yes, pls, enable me.

SO.

I think I mentioned b4 that Teen Wolf hates werewolves.

This is a show about werewolves like, yeah, sure, they do other plots and stuff. But the main character is a werewolf. The vast majority of the cast are werewolves (at least in the first half of the show). But think about it. What do we actually know about werewolves? They uhh, they shift on the full moon. But like, what about the full moon? Cus’ Scott gets handcuffed to a radiator and he doesn’t shift and break out until the moon comes out from behind the clouds and he screams like it’s excruciatingly painful for him. But then Derek and his Betas are underground during their full moon, and they shift like it’s all fine and dandy (they’re furious, but there’s no pain) and it doesn’t matter whether they can see the moon or not. They, uhh, they’re allergic to wolfsbane/it’s poisonous to them (btw it’s poisonous to literally everyone, just the scent of it is enough to cause seizures and hallucinations in humans. It’s a whole other frustration that they won’t make up their fucking minds abt it. It’s one thing to say that this is some parallel universe where wolfsbane doesn’t poison humans (bc lydia makes them hallucinate with the punch but injesting that much wolfsbane should kill you, and Stiles straight pulls a plant out of the ground; should’ve caused itching, burning, a cough, nausea, fever, headache and More hallucinations) and yet Jackson has to see a doctor and gets told he’s got Aconite Poisoning. So WHAT IS THE TRUTH?) but apparently not enough for Derek not to be able to plant a wolfsbane plant and massive cord of roots (which he would’ve had to tie together himself) in a revenge spiral around Laura’s body. But just being around it causes wolves to lose control. But also there’s supposed to be different strains that do different things? And also sometimes you burn the wolfsbane and it becomes the cure, or you have to burn it out of them or you just cut it out of them? Make UP Your MIND or at least ACKNOWLEDGE that different strains do different things. They get stronger on a full moon. But does that mean they get infinitely stronger with every full moon they experience? Does that mean they get weaker during new moons? They’re stronger in packs. Okay, but they never establish what the fuck a pack is. Is it an agreement? Is it a magical bond? Scott just sort of says people are in his pack. Does that mean they are? Do the humans he knows make him stronger? Just how strong is this bond? Derek makes a claim that “You have your own pack now” so is that a joke, was he mocking scott? Or is he saying that there’s no need for an Alpha and just being a beta with some friends counts as a pack? Apparently they have some kind of...animal magnetism or mind control? Derek uses a funny voice and a guy wakes up from a near coma to look at him with seemingly no control. Peter can force Scott to shift up. Derek forces Isaac to shift down. Derek has an insane amount of control over dogs and makes one lose its fucking mind from like a hundred feet away? Scott makes one calm down, but derek sends attack dogs running with their tails between their legs. Is it actual control or is it just a persuasion? Is it just intimidation? I haven’t even gotten to culture. You’re telling me that we get an entire episode of Allison discovering the entire story behind the Argent clan’s origins as werewolf hunters, why they started, how her name means Silver and apparently that’s where the entire myth of silver hurting werewolves comes from, but we don’t get to know anything about the first werewolves? Where they come from? If they’re a form of evolution or just straight magic or if it’s a curse or a gift from the gods? There’s an entire hidden werewolf population with packs all over the world, but somehow there’s literally no wolf culture? No moon worship? No specific terminology (Alpha, Beta, and Omega are terms used by a really fucking stupid biologist who studied frantic wolves in captivity and cast aspersions on the entire species. He’s been disproven a Thousand Times. NONE of that Alpha, Beta, Omega shit is right. Packs aren’t Hierarchies of Dominance. They’re families. They’re led by two wolves, yes, an “alpha pair” that’s literally JUST THE PARENTS. THE ‘BETAS’ ARE THEIR KIDS. This terminology makes sense if used by HUNTERS who consider werewolves to be mindless dumb animals. WHY THE FUCK would werewolves use it to DESCRIBE THEMSELVES?) besides the absolute minimum of ‘I caught a scent?’ Are you serious? Then there’s werewolf ages. Oh my god that was so fucking lazy. Saying that werewolves don’t age like humans, but that Cora is seventeen “by human standards” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? I’ve seen theories that go so many different ways. The idea that Werewolves live really long lives because of the superhealing. The idea that they live really short lives because their healing just burns through their body really quickly. The idea that their lifespan is directly correlated to the amount of damage they take because they can only heal so much, so wolves who get hurt a lot age faster than wolves who don’t. There’s NO explanation! You’d think it might be an interesting point for Scott to find out that he’s gonna live to fucking 200 years old. (How old is Satomi again?) That sounds like something a Teenager would be daunted by. We see them make fun of Stiles a few times because he believes werewolf myths about silver, and then because he believes Peter when Peter tells him he lives in a series of underground caves. But like...why not? THESE ARE WEREWOLVES why did you just make them humans with extra facial hair? Where are the traditional mating rituals (or even the concept of a mate/life partner, can you imagine how interesting that would’ve been? If Scott found out Allison was his mate? Or if he suddenly had all these weird urges around her, like rubbing their foreheads together or cuddling her way too much or wanting to bring her food? That would’ve been fascinating and hilarious as subplots for their romance!) where are the full moon runs or pack get-togethers? Where are the aversions to perfumes or cologne? Where are literally any animal behaviors besides AGGRESSION? Where is the den-making? Can werewolves eat fast food or does the grease bug them? Talia was a famous Alpha bc she could full shift. Does anyone know why she could do that? “Evolution” is a bullshit answer, let’s be real. It’s shitty writing and it put Derek through so much more than he deserved. THEY ACCIDENTALLY ESTABLISHED that ALL HALES can full-shift! IT’s NOT EVOLUTION. It’s BIRTHRIGHT. Talia fullshifted. Peter full-shifted (though his was distorted into the monster thingy. That wasn’t anything like Deucalion’s shift. It was a FULL SHIFT) Laura could full shift bc she did it after she died. No other werewolves on the show turned into full wolves after death, even if they died with wolfsbane in their system? MALIA could full-shift into a coyote. LITERALLY EVERY HALE except Cora and that’s bc she got booted back to South America COuld FULL SHIFT (and it never happened after they lost all of their wolf powers, that coud’ve been an interesting plot if they didn’t FUCK IT UP.) But still there’s no explanation, or even just acknowledgement? You don’t have to spell it out for us, but at least SAY “Hey, so the Hale family is really powerful and all of us can full-shift. Not sure why, but it’s neat.) I’m still stuck on rituals. Routines. Werewolf mores. Social cues. Are there certain smells they’re supposed to ignore? Is it polite to pretend you don’t hear someone coming up to your house until they knock? Do they have rules about waiting until the Alpha eats before they start eating (much like how lots of traditional households wait for the father to dig in, or whoever is head of household)? Is it tradition to homeschool werewolves for the first few years until they learn control? Are there seriously no rules about biting humans? You don’t have to talk to their parents or have a specific conversation with them? And if werewolves are so dominance/hierarchy based, then you’re telling me there’s no “second-in-command” or respectful greetings that are supposed to be used for an Alpha? There’s absolutely no form of werewolf government or ancient laws or anything except a big spiral that is universally recognized as a sign you’re gonna kill people? What was the wolfsbane around Laura’s body for? Why make the spiral out of that instead of just drawing in the dirt or something? We make a lot of jokes about Derek being bad with his words, but so is Peter and so is Cora. And they’re the only born wolves we interact with (except Satomi who ALSO isn’t a chatterbox) What if that’s not just because they’re all traumatized and cranky? What if they’re just speaking on a different level? Scents and body language are integral to wolf interaction. Like how we say that Peter has that conversation with Derek’s eyebrows? What if Derek’s so fucking pissed all the time because he hates talking to Scott because SCott ISN”T LISTENING to his body language and scent and chemosignals? He tells Scott to use all his senses, and Scott does it fucking once to say that Peter felt “Angry” and never again. What if Derek is Talking PLENTY (with his body and movements and reactions) but Scott just isn’t paying attention? Isaac seems to understand Derek just fine. Erica and Boyd never complain that Derek is lying to them or ‘keeping something’ from them? What if the reason Scott always thinks Derek’s hiding something is because he isn’t reading the rest of Derek’s conversation and he assumes that the empty feeling is Derek lying. Even STILES seems to understand Derek. He’s human, but he goes totally wolfy. He already uses body language a lot and while he gets mad at Derek he never has to ask what the fuck derek is saying or what he’s holding back. I digress. I wanna know why no other packs came to help Derek and Laura after their family died. I wanna know why Emissaries and Druids are so incredibly important to the supernatural/werewolf world but Derek barely knew they existed (Especially when it’s established that he know tons of lore about other species.) and even though every single pack should have an emissary, they never handle who is the emissary for Derek’s pack or for Scott’s pack (Once again, is an emissary bound to their pack somehow or is it just an agreement?). I wanna know why Derek knew Satomi and trusted her but for some reason never felt like he could ask her for help? Centuries of hiding and living amongst humans with almost no wolf behavior to their name, but none of these packs interact? There’s Druid Vets and Hunter cops and Emissary counselors. But no werewolf doctors? No werewolf teachers? Absolutely no werewolf society? If Derek was worried about Paige not accepting that he was a werewolf unless she became one, what does that say about his experience with humans? He says “there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that house” who died in the fire. But wouldn’t he talk to a human pack member about his worries, if he had one? Or even a bitten pack member? He admits he doesn’t know how to train a Bitten wolf. He’s never been called out by a human pack member for using phrases like ‘caught a scent’ or for reacting to things he shouldn’t. Does this mean Derek’s family was entirely werewolves? No humans in the know? No bitten wolves? He has a huge thing about keeping the secret and never letting anyone in on it unless they get dragged into it. Did Derek’s pack have some kind of prejudice against humans? Was Derek raised to believe humans were weak or cowardly or something, that he thought this beautiful girl would automatically hate him and expose him if she were to discover the supernatural without being forced into silence by self-preservation.

Lots of times, it’s easy to forget in this fandom that so much is missing, because we’ve been filling in the gaps for so long that some stuff is practically canon. It’s generally assumed that the Hales were homeschooled before high school. It’s generally assumed that there’s some kind of bond that marks people as pack. We instinctively add in mentions of Scent and the use of the shift (growling, claws, a hint of fang, flashing eyes) as part of the casual communication between characters. We add in scent-marking and territory boundaries and specific roles in the pack. We do all of that and never think twice because it’s already in all the fic. But we did that. The show gave us nothing. It spent an entire season talking about the nogitsune and the oni and how they’re summoned and what kitsune fox tails are for, but we never got to find out why wolves can do the pain-drain (or even if it dissipates the pain or just transfers it to the wolf doing the draining) or if Derek Hale EVEN HAS A DAD.

#personal #rant #Meta Ramblings #it's not even anti-scott #Anonymous #go for it

278 notes · View notes

kakakakashi · 4 years

Text

Hokage’s Office: The Desk II

100 Follower Celebration - Day 6

Kakashi Hatake x Reader || NSFW

Warnings: porn without plot, Kakashi’s filthy mouth, mentions of masturbation, an ungodly amount of run on sentences probably, you guys know the drill

Word count: 2,032

A/N: I’m thinking about tacking a little bonus scene onto this series as kind of an epilogue. It’ll probably be 100 words or less, but I think it would be funny. I guess we’ll see.

When you glanced up from the printed text in your hands, the clock on the nightstand read 10:15. Kakashi was still working, and you were starting to get impatient. For over an hour, you’d been checking the clock every ten minutes, but you couldn’t help it. Frankly, you were horny.

Even though you’d had plenty of alone time earlier, it didn’t help. You’d made yourself come twice, but your body still wanted more. It simply wasn’t the same as having Kakashi satisfy you. Waiting for him usually wasn’t this bad. After all, if things got bad enough, you could always visit him any time you want. Although, it wasn’t necessarily appropriate to barge into his office and fuck him… Not that you haven’t done it before, but still. You tried to be responsible most of the time.

Now, you thought reading might distract you, but you’d only gotten through three pages in the past hour.

Each time you began a paragraph, your brain would gradually start fantasizing about increasingly filthy situations, and by the time you caught yourself daydreaming, your unfocused gaze had been staring at the same page for who knows how long. Throwing your head back and flopping the book down on your lap, you groaned out in frustration, teeth gritted and fists bunched into the bed sheets beside you. You couldn’t take it.

You didn’t even bother to put your book back in it’s place, simply tossing it on the nightstand haphazardly before kicking the covers off of your lower half. The cool night air met your bare legs, covered only by the large shirt that fell at your thighs. Fuck this.

Quickly grabbing your dressing gown and slipping the sleeves onto your shoulders, you had an idea. Your fingers hooked in th band of your panties from under your shirt, and you slid the little fabric down your legs, stepping out of the pair and tossing them in your hamper. Once you drew the tie around your waist, you exited your front door and began the quick trek to the Hokage’s office. By the time you got to the entrance to the large building, you hadn’t seen a single soul. Inside wasn’t any better. Each step towards Kakashi’s office further proved that you two were completely alone. The environment rivaled that of a sleepy ghost town. Grateful didn’t even begin to describe how you felt knowing that you could get away with your little stunt.

You didn’t even bother to knock on the Hokage’s door, knowing that Kakashi had already sensed your chakra approaching. Opening the door, you saw his eyes dart up before returning to the paperwork he was reviewing. His jonin vest had been discarded in favor of his simple black shirt and pants. The boredom and exhaustion shone on his face like clown paint over his mask.

“Yo,” you mumbled, leaning against the door frame with a slight smile on your lips.

Kakashi had finished whatever he was reading, and he placed the document on his desk. “What’re you doing here? It’s late.” He tilted his head to the side, and you could see his eyes crinkle with a tired yet fond smile beneath his mask. It made your entire being soften to see such a lovely grin. “You should be at home in bed.”

Even though he wanted you to take care of yourself, Kakashi couldn’t deny what a sight for sore eyes you were. Amidst the mountains of paperwork he was stuck with, you were his saving grace. You took the opportunity to enter his office, allowing the door to fall shut behind you while you strolled around his desk to lean against the edge diagonal of him. “Missed you,” you confessed, “Also, it’s been a while, and I kind of needed a quick pick me up since I couldn’t sleep.”

Kakashi’s smile tugged into a smirk, a twinkle of something sparking in his one visible dark eye. “You know,” his eyes raked up and down your frame, his voice sweeter than honey, “I really could go for a little pick me up too after the day I’ve had.”

Lifting his body from his chair, Kakashi stepped in front of you, his gloved hands resting on your hips while his lidded gaze darted between your lips and your hazy eyes. He tugged his mask from below his chin until the material fell slack around his neck, and he leaned in to press his lips against yours.

The kiss was slow, but searing. Kakashi tilted his head to deepen the embrace, leaving you gasping at the sensation of his body pressing into yours. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips to further tease you. Meanwhile, his fingertips skillfully untied your robe. His fingers worked so subtly you didn’t even notice what he was doing until the fabric fell slack around your body.

You wrapped your arms around Kakashi’s neck, threading your fingers into his wild hair, so you could explore his mouth further in your battle for control. You could already feel your heart racing from the way his mouth worked against yours, and when his fingertips brushed upwards across the skin of your outer thighs, you gasped again. Not even bothering to break the kiss, Kakashi smirked against your lips before playfully nipping your lower lip and pressing you further against his desk with his own hips.

Kakashi retreated from the embrace by only a centimetre, his lidded and blown eye meeting yours. You didn’t even have to ask him to know what he wanted you to do, so you wiggled until you were sitting on the edge of the desk, legs spread just enough so Kakashi was slotted between them, his hips grinding into yours. The friction of his pants against your bare cunt made you melt. The vibrating electricity shooting down your spine made you whimper against his kiss.

Now, one of his hands cradled you by the small of your back while he laid you down, your ankles locking around his hips to better keep your balance until Kakashi was hovering over you on his desk. You wondered for a second if he knew, but almost reading your mind, Kakashi’s palms caressed up your thighs and over your hips. His tongue darted out to wet his lips at the sight of his confirmed theory before his gaze met your smirk.

“No panties?” All you did was bite your lip and grind your hips against the growing tent in his pants, coercing a soft moan from him. “God, and you’re already soaked.”

One of your palms traced down the dark shirt covering his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the cotton fabric. The other encouraging him to rest his weight on his elbow beside your head. Once your other hand got down to his pants, you shifted so you could undo the hem and pull his erection from his pants and underwear.

“I told you,” you jokingly teased him, “I missed you and needed a pick me up.”

Kakashi’s head rolled back while you began to stroke his length slowly, but you noted the slight smile tugging at his lips. A drop of arousal gathered at his tip the more you worked him in your fist. His words came out in soft pants. “So, you were horny and thinking about me?”

His hips began meeting your pace, and you couldn’t resist the temptation to stop. Instead leading his tip towards your entrance until he caught inside you. A filthy moan poured from Kakashi’s mouth, and a simultaneous gasp tore through yours at the sensation.

“I never said that, but if I did, I’d say that I’ve been thinking of you all day. I even toughed myself thinking about how good you fuck me, but no matter how many times I made myself cum with my fingers, I still wasn’t satisfied because it wasn’t you.”

That was all it took. Kakashi thrust himself deep inside you with an animalistic buck of his hips, filling your pussy inch by agonizingly beautiful inch. You cried out at the sensation of him stretching you out over every minuscule ridge of his cock. When he finally bottomed out, he gave you both a second to adjust while you gripped onto Kakashi’s shirt. He let out a huff of laughter before his lips found your jaw. He planted kisses up the skin until he was nipping at your earlobe, causing your back to arch into his chest.

“What a naughty little thing, thinking about your Hokage like that.” Kakashi chuckled before his hips withdrew, leaving you empty for just a moment before he thrust himself deep inside you until his hips ground against your clit, making you moan out his name.

Again his hips snapped into yours, each thrust increasing in speed until you could feel the desk scraping against the floor in protest each time Kakashi’s cock split you open. With each motion, his skin slapped against yours, fucking you so deep, all you could do was hold on for the ride.

You moaned out his name again, and he was quick to grunt in reply, “Fuck. I love it when you moan my name like that. Say it again.”

“Kakashi!” you moaned out, hips bucking to meet his as best as they could with what leverage you could manage from beneath him. The nerves in your core were sparking with electricity each time Kakashi sheathed himself inside you so deep you could feel his balls smacking against your ass. Between his fingers gripping onto your thighs for dear life and his grunts muffled only by him kissing at your neck made the rubber inside your body begin to give.

“Ah! Harder, Kakashi! Please!” you must’ve sounded desperate because Kakashi obliged without any hesitation, the desk now rocking with the force of his hips, and all you could do was cry out and cling to him while you squirmed in pleasure, trying to get him as deep inside you as possible. With each slam of his hips into yours you could feel the warmth in your stomach grow unbearably hotter, he was fucking you so good, and when you arched your back just a little more, your head flew back while you screamed in ecstasy.

“Fuck, Kakashi! Right there!”

Kakashi smirked when he drew away from your neck. “Fuck, you like that don’t you? That’s right, say my name.”

“Kakashi!”

With each of his thrusts, you were sent hurtling towards your orgasm, weightless pleasure consuming you until your thoughts became incoherent. The only thing you could think of was how good Kakashi felt buried deep inside you like he was made to screw your brains out better than anyone on earth.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my cock, just like how you’ve been dreaming of,” Kakashi’s voice was sinful with how he teased you. He sounded like the devil himself, and while he continued whispering filthy things in your ear, you felt the cord inside you snap, leaving your body a shuddering mess while your voice brokenly cried out in sheer pleasure. Kakashi’s hips continued canting against yours while he fucked you through your orgasm, only stuttering when he was close, and finally thrusting a few times while he came deep inside you, his cum shooting streaks of white, making your eyes roll while your body vibrated with unbearable bliss.

When the both of you came down from your blinding highs, Kakashi was leaning against you as you gently stroked his back. Your entire being throbbed in satisfaction until Kakashi pulled out of you and stood up to grab some tissues to clean the two of you up. You finally felt sated with his cum dripping out of you.

Once he tucked himself back into his pants, he glanced at his desk before his eyes met yours again. “C’mon, we’re going home. This paperwork can wait until tomorrow. I’m definitely not done with you yet.”

You laughed to yourself at his antics before you stood up on wobbly legs only for him to catch you in his arms and begin guiding you out of his office and back home.

#cherry's 100 follower celebration #naruto imagines #kakashi x reader #cherry has ideas sometimes #hi. i’m cherry queen of the sin bin.#cherry posts about ninja nerds #100

122 notes · View notes

sillyfeathers · 4 years

Text

Resident Tough Guy (Bellas x Reader)

Resident Tough Guy Prompt: (along the lines of) The reader gets stuck somewhere on the boot camp from PP2 and tickling ensues. Characters: Chloe Beale, Fat Amy, Beca Mitchell, Emily Junk, reader ft. all the Bellas basically (platonic) Summary: When you find yourself in a precarious position with only your troublesome friends to help you out, the stoic character you’ve made for yourself starts to break down. Warnings: fluff, slight profanity, the reader is partially restrained Words: 997

A/N: for @theambracer88 !! This was such a cute prompt and I hope you enjoy it, I was hella excited to get a request for Pitch Perfect <3

You were officially in hell.

Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but when you’d joined a college acapella group, you definitely didn’t expect to be hanging 10 feet above ground entangled in a net.

It also didn’t help that you’d gone first, and now everyone was watching you try, and fail, to not plummet to your death.

Okay, so you were attached to a harness, but still.

“Ah — shit!” you screamed as your feet slipped off the net, and on instinct, your hands flailed to grab at the ropes, hoping to find some sort of grip. And, in a sense, you did. Technically, your wrists were somehow knotted among said ropes, but hey, you hadn’t fallen!

“Uh — I think I’m stuck,” you called back to your friends. You heard them chuckle, and you whined in protest. “It’s not funny! Please, just help me?”

It was no surprise that Chloe and Fat Amy were the ones to show the slightest bit of compassion and start towards you. Lucky for them, you hadn’t managed to get far, and they were soon positioned either side of you, brows furrowed. You were well aware of your vulnerable position and shifted uncomfortably.

“Alright. Aaaaallllright,” Fat Amy hummed. “I got this.” She stretched out and slapped at the ropes. All it did was jostle you further, and make you lose your footing yet again.

“What the hell was that?” you grumbled, the words coming out a bit harsher than you intended. Real fear was starting to settle in, and you didn’t like that there was a group of girls watching it happen.

“Okay, alright, you’re gonna be fine,” Chloe said quickly, which didn’t instill any confidence in you.

“Just — okay, let me —” she grabbed onto your waist as she spoke, trying to get a feel for just how stuck you were, and you flinched.

“Whoa, mate,” Fat Amy chimed in, noticing your reaction. “You pull a muscle or something?” She grabbed at your other side, and you yelped, slipping off the ropes for the third time.

“Noho, I’m just sensitive,” you mumbled, glancing at Chloe for support — but she was wearing a suspiciously mischievous grin, poking you in the side to test her theory. You couldn’t help but splutter, your face going red.

“Let me down!” you groaned, your voice a little shaky. But this time, Chloe’s fingers lingered, trailing down your side. You giggled, shaking your head as if that would deter her. At this point, however, Fat Amy had caught on, and she had started to pinch at your hip.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Beca called from her vantage point.

“She’s ticklish,” Chloe responded casually, her fingers scratching up your side and hovering under your arm. Your helpless giggles were the only form of protest she received, and they doubled in volume when Fat Amy added, “Extremely so.”

“Stohop,” you giggled breathlessly, but to your horror, you felt the net shift again with added weight. You glanced to the side to see Beca advancing towards you, and if the look on her face was anything to go by, it wasn’t to rescue you.

“You know, I’ve always thought she needs to be taken down a peg,” Chloe mused, now skittering her nails over your stomach. Amy decided to go the more aggressive route, rapidly tasering your side, and you shrieked.

“NOHO!” As if it could get any worse, your desperate tugging against the ropes only seemed to tighten them around your wrists. Beca was all too soon perched above Chloe, infuriatingly calm as she reached down and fluttered her nails along your neck. You cringed, bubbly giggles spilling out of your lips.

“I think she’s loosening up,” Beca commented.

“Really?” you managed to gasp, pulling against your restraints in hope. Beca laughed, her hand slipping under your arm. “I meant your personality, dumbass.”

If it wasn’t for the fact that you were now being tickled by three different people who were all apparently hell-bent on torturing you, you would’ve shot back with a witty reply of your own, but the best you could do was an indignant squeal.

“Let me try her back,” you heard Emily giggle.

“Whehen the hell did yohohou get here?” you managed to splutter. It turns out that was the last thing you would be able to get out, as Chloe deciding to claw at your ribs, Fat Amy’s unrelenting hip kneading, Beca’s darting fingers along your neck and under your arms, and now Emily tickling gently along your back — you were officially reduced to a giggling mess, squirming beneath their fingers.

Chloe had been right — you weren’t exactly the easiest person to talk to, so seeing you trapped like this, your head thrown back in laughter as they tickled you to tears — it was refreshing.

Still, as hiccups began to pepper your hysterical giggles, the participating Bellas showed mercy, drawing back, Beca unhooking your hands as she went. You yelled out in frustration, although it was hardly frightening coming out between laughter. You couldn’t scramble down fast enough, collapsing onto the ground and curling in on yourself. One by one, you heard your fellow Bellas join you, and you refused to meet their eyes as you stood up, your face flushed.

Instead, you met the eyes of a smirking Aubrey Posen. “You know, laughing too much can strain your voice,” she said. Your mouth dropped open, hearing snickers from behind you.

“That wasn’t my fault!” you scoffed, and before you could react Aubrey’s fingers were poking at your stomach.

“Laughing is also good for bonding with the choir’s resident tough guy,” she continued, and to your dismay, the rest of the Bellas were now looming over you as you slid to the ground.

“Nohoho, wahait.” You held your hands out in defence, but as affectionate smiles passed across their faces and their wiggling fingers hit their mark, you knew that your laughter wasn’t over by any means.

255 notes · View notes

michellejackson · 3 years

Text

Would you be so kind as to fall in love with me?

Fandom: Druck

Pairing: Fatou Jallow/Kieu My Vu

Wordcount: 2580

Kieu My's POV throughout the week

You can also read it on ao3 :)

Kieu My couldn’t focus. She knew the teacher was talking and she was aware of her friend beside her trying to get her attention, but all she could think of was how bad she had fucked up with Fatou. She kept replaying last Friday’s events in her head, Constantine kept pestering her about potential hookups, and she played along as she so often did. But then, then he brought up Fatou. Kieu My wasn’t stupid. She knew what Constantine thought of Nora’s new friends, and honestly, she couldn’t be bothered with the pettiness that took over him every time she or her friends were brought up. She didn’t want any conflict, and she would not sit and listen to him talk more shit about Fatou. “It was just a stupid New Year’s kiss”. It wasn’t, and god, would she regret saying it was. Fatou, of course, had heard.

The words still echoed in her head, “crazy how I couldn’t see how fake you are, Kieu My.” She was stuck to her seat and couldn’t move, stunned. But then she thought, she wasn’t wrong, was she? Watching her walk away, Kieu My did nothing.

After a long silence the first sound that pierced the air was Constantine’s laughter. Kieu My just looked after Fatou. She could feel Finn and Ismail’s eyes closing in on her, but she only had eyes for the girl, trying to make her turn around with a mere look. Shit. “Wow, who does she think she is huh? Delusional chick actually thought you were into her? Crazy.” And yeah, that was it. She tore her gaze from Fatou and instead glared at Constantin, “grow the fuck up” she spat, and then she left. She had no more tolerance for him that day.

Or the day after, or the next one. Turns out her tolerance for Constantin’s bullshit just straight up left the building and never come back. Which is why his constant effort to get her attention in this class was just about to make her scream. She wasn’t pulled out of her thinking before she heard the teacher calling out Fatou’s name.

“-Fatou, what about the topic ‘planetary orbit’ for you? Together with…”

She looked around, no one was eager to volunteer. She looked at Fatou who looked just about done with this class. What if Kieu My just… before she knows it her hand is up in the air and the teacher notices straight away, no going back now. “Kieu My!” She summons enough courage to take a look behind her, at Fatou, but looks down straight away when she sees that she’s already staring back. Her face heats up and she tries her hardest to look unbothered. Crap, why did she do that? Did she just force a person that didn’t want anything to do with her into a group project? She internally facepalms.

“Kieu My, what the fuck, you know I suck at psychics, we agreed to team up!” Constantin was aggressively whispering at her from her right side. Kieu My rolled her eyes, “you agreed to team up, maybe you can do your own work for once.” She knew she’d never hear the end of this, but right now, she didn’t care.

When the class is over, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Should she bolt as soon as possible or stay and try to talk to Fatou? Should she wait for Fatou to come to her? She starts packing her bag as slow as possible, praying that Fatou will come and talk to her, instead of vise versa. She does. “What was that?”

Kieu My looks up, stricken with the sternness of her voice. She didn’t know what it was she expected, but confrontation wasn’t something she had prepared herself for. Looking at Fatou, Kieu My can’t help but admire how beautiful she is, even when she looks down on her, figurately and literally, and at the moment she does both. Kieu My understands why she’s mad, but Kieu My will fix this. She’s determent to.

Realizing she spent way too much time looking at Fatou’s lips, she panics. What did she ask again? “uhm …” Oh yeah, she asked why. Why is it that every time she exchanges words with Fatou, her brain seems to malfunction? Also how does she say that she wants to spend every single minute out of her day with Fatou, without sounding like a creep?

“I thought I’m quite good in physics, and you’re rather not, so …” She curses herself. Maybe it would’ve been better to sound like a creep. Fatou rolls her eyes, Kieu My wants to roll out of this universe.

As soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back, this was no way to win over the girl she had continuously let down while pining for from afar. Kieu My knew that Fatou had been struggling in this class, the girl always had her attention, but not only was her comment making it blatantly obvious that she was watching her like a creep, but it also clearly struck a chord.

“What do you want?”

Kieu My just looked at her, wishing it was obvious to Fatou. Wishing it was obvious to herself. What did she want? She wanted for this to be easy, she wanted for her friends to understand her better, for them to be less assholes, she wanted for Fatou to not look at her this way, as if she was the worst kind of person. But then again, maybe she was.

“I want to help you” and she does. She wants to help Fatou with anything she needs, or anything she doesn’t need. She just wants to be near her.

“Why can’t you just say what you really want for once?” Now she just looks frustrated, and Kieu My can’t even blame her. Fatou looks at her, but Kieu My can’t look her in the eyes. The teacher eventually ends their conversation and Kieu My is once again stuck watching her walk away. But it was fine, she would text Fatou later, they would meet up for the project and she would get to explain herself. Everything would be fine.

---

Everything was not fine. It had been 23 hours since Kieu My texted Fatou, and there was no sign of any type of answer from her. Lying in bed, Kieu My threw a pillow over her head and screamed. She deserved this, she knows that, but it doesn’t make the situation any better. She threw the pillow over to the end of her bed and looked at the unanswered messages she already sent, they were simple, she asked if Fatou had unmatched her on tinder (which totally was a rhetorical question, she knew she had. Damn cat gif) and apologized for hijacking her project. Or… apologize maybe isn’t the right word, shit. Maybe she should’ve apologized first. Why is this so hard?

She had already sent four messages, she can’t send any more right? It would look too desperate. Fingers hovering over the keyboard she came to a realization; she was that desperate. So she tries again, this time asking a question, hoping that would make it easier to answer. - Just wanted to ask how we're going to do this physics project - When do you want to meet? Maybe on Friday?

The texts all go unanswered. Sitting at school with Ismail, she can’t help but check WhatsApp. Every damn minute. Maybe she lost her phone? No, that’s not right, Kieu My has religiously been checking her insta, her phone is clearly working. Maybe she just hasn’t had the time to check? Maybe her notifications are off? Maybe she just doesn’t want anything to do with her… At this point she’s just frustrated with herself; how did she get to this point? She hoped this wasn’t what Fatou was feeling when Kieu My had let her messages go unanswered while stressing over what to do.

Ismail keeps pointing their phone in her face, laughing at a joke she’s not yet in on. After a while she gets annoyed. Maybe it’s a combination of lack of sleep, not being able to stop thinking about the girl that is currently ghosting her and last, but not least, Ismail not being able to stop pushing their phone up her face. She snaps.

“Ismail, what the fuck.”

Their smile drops and they lay their phone on the table. “Well, someone’s in a mood.” Rolling her eyes, Kieu My looks at her phone again. She can feel Ismail’s eyes on her. She looks up from her phone to locks eyes with them, now entering a staring contest as Ismail tries to work out what’s up with her. It takes minutes before Ismail opens their mouth again.

“Is this about Fatou?”

This surprises her, she starts blinking, seemingly losing the contest. “What?” was she that obvious? No… She hasn’t talked about Fatou to any of her friends, not even Zoe, how could any of them know? None of them had any reason to. All they knew was that they kissed on New Year’s, and she dismissed that in front of all of them, in front of Fatou herself. That’s literally the reason she’s stuck in this situation in the first place. She’d been so careful. What did she do wrong? Ismail smiles.

“You know, I always thought you were hard to read regarding your crushes, because you never like, looked longingly at anyone. You never stressed about any of the guys you talked to, and you always looked so at ease with them, bored, but at ease.”

Kieu My looked down at her phone, trying to find something to say, but Ismail beat her to it, “you’ve zooned out so much lately, and do you know what the common factor is every single time? It’s Fatou. You’re always looking in her direction. Every single time. You even smile a little.”

She looks up at Ismail, they’ve really noticed all that?

“You long for Fatou, Kieu My.”

She was at a loss for words. There was no use in denying it, Ismail looked to have her all figured out. She felt exposed, uncomfortable. They didn’t really talk about stuff like that, any of them. Not Zoe, not Finn, and certainly not Constantin. What made Ismail start now? Should she just brush it off?

“Also, the other day when she called you out in the schoolyard you looked like a kicked puppy, honestly it was devastating.” This took her out of her trance, she laughed, and Ismail laughed with her. “God, I really screwed that up.” Ismail looked at her with sympathy, something they rarely show. “What happened?” they asked, and so Kieu My went on to tell someone about Fatou for the first time. She felt liberated for once, and Ismail confirmed a theory Kieu My had long contemplated; that she had royally fucked up.

---

Later that day she decided to text Fatou yet again. What was it that Fatou asked her again? What she really wants? Kieu My closed her eyes and debated whether this was a good idea or not. Summoning the courage, she sent off two texts, but the most important and honest one being,

“Somehow I have to think about you all the time.”

That’s the truth. No matter how hard Kieu My tries, she can’t get Fatou out of her head. That’s the truth she had spent so long trying to avoid. This was the last message she would send she decided. If Fatou didn’t want to hear from her anymore, she wouldn’t push. She would ask the teacher for a new subject partner and she’d bother Fatou no more. That’s the least she could do.

---

The next day she didn’t see a trace of Fatou, which in Kieu My’s mind was good, she wasn’t sure if she could handle public confrontation again. It would be better if they were somewhere alone, somewhere they could talk about everything, away from school. Yeah, maybe she was a little anxious, but confessing to the girl of your dreams could do that to you. The thought of being rejected after being vulnerable could do that to you.

“Hey, Stranger!” Zoe raced from behind her, making Kieu My jump. “God, Zoe! You scared me!” Zoe just looked at her knowingly, “stuck in your head again, huh?”. Kieu My knew that Zoe knew that something was up with her, and she also knew that it was really starting to unnerve the girl. She had kept pestering her about it, but Kieu My just brushed it off every time, it seemed she did that a lot.

They walked together towards the school, the silence between them was strangling her. After talking with Ismail yesterday, she’d tried to figure out the best way to tell Zoe too, after opening up she realized that not talking about her feelings was actually taking a toll on her. Zoe was her best friend; she really should’ve told her a long time ago. Kieu My stopped walking.

“I kissed Fatou!”

Her outburst made Zoe stop too and look back at her. She smiled her usual smile, “yes I know, Constantin told me about your ‘stupid New Year’s kiss’” she brushed it off. Zoe didn’t get it. Kieu My tried to find the best way to phrase it.

“No, you don’t understand, I like kissed her-kissed her. Like I didn’t feel like doing anything else. I-” she closed her eyes, not sure of what Zoe’s reaction would be, “-it wasn’t just a stupid kiss, I really like her, and I’ve liked her for a while,” she opened her eyes to look anywhere but at Zoe. “I think about her all the time, it’s exhausting, and it’s so STUPID, because I fucked up and now, she doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Her eyes were getting wet, but no tears were spilling. “And… and I was scared to tell you, because… I don’t know, because I haven’t really felt this about anyone before, and I don’t like to talk about my feelings!” her words were all messed up and rolling out in one go, she wasn’t sure if she was even making sense at this point.

She finally looked at Zoe. The girl was grinning, so bright as to compete with the sun. She stretched out her arms as if she were to hug her and squealed, “Q! you have a crush!” Kieu My wasn’t sure what reaction she expected, but Zoe’s excitement was catching her off guard. She welcomed the hug though. She needed that. “It doesn’t matter, she won’t really talk to me, and I can’t blame her.” Zoe pulled away and scoffed, “girlie! Honestly, don’t even sweat it, I’m here now! C’mon, catch me up on everything!” So she did, and she felt much better.

Kieu My hung out with Zoe the rest of the day, feeling better every second. Even though Zoe kept telling her how bad she was at flirting, the smile never left her face. Kieu My felt content now, if Fatou decided to give her a second chance there would be nothing holding her back. Except maybe her flirting and overall hopelessness with girls.

Kieu My didn’t even notice the message on her phone until she got home.

It was from Fatou.

“Tomorrow half past three at my place”

Kieu My let out the biggest breath, and smiled.

#this is v late i know skdjfkwjfwf #have mercy #kieutou #kieu my vu #fatou jallow #druck #druck fic #fanfic

36 notes · View notes

ladyhallen · 4 years

Text

Growing Flowers for the Sunrise

Content Warnings: chronic pain, talks of death, terminal illness

Harry woke to pain.

He didn’t scream, but took a deep stabilizing breath. He was used to the lightning slivers that seemed to live in his veins. But whenever he was doing nothing, it seemed to intensify until sleeping was the last thing in his mind. Muggle medicine was a good friend to him these days.

Another breath and Harry finally placed his feet on the floor, moving through the shivery cold that intensified with every step.

Moping would get nothing done and he was absolutely tired of lying in bed - in pain - all day.

“Winky,” he called. “Breakfast.”

The house-elf popped in, took one look at his face, and popped back out. Breakfast involved a lot of healthy food, along with Willow Bark Tea that he was starting to taste in his dreams.

“Agenda for today?” he asked his frustrated healer.

Daphne Greengrass huffed irritably, hands moving gently along his shoulders and testing his muscles with wandless magic. “Nothing too strenuous. You’re too tired from the last treatment, but Granger’s theory is actually bearing fruit.”

That was very concerning. Harry would have cried if he wasn’t so tired of being in pain.

“That I have too much magic?” he asked. “It needs to get out?”

Daphne nodded, prodding at his collarbone and his ribs with gentle fingers. “I have no idea what magic was going on while you were dueling with You-Know-Who, Potter. But you are practically bursting from it. You need to let it out.”

Hermione’s theory was the Theory of Conquest. No one had actually fulfilled a prophecy in a few decades, but each and every one of those who fulfilled it died in a couple of days. Her theory was that something was given to each person at the end of those prophecies.

It said something about Harry’s pain threshold given that he had survived for two months in constant pain.

Magic being the obvious choice was hindsight.

How to expend magic faster than it replenished was the problem.

Annoyingly enough, that was a problem unique to him.

The Department of Mysteries had a love-hate relationship with Harry.

Oh, they loved him for the challenge he presented, of helping an international hero stay alive and all the troubles that came with it.

They also hated him every time a suggested solution was rejected.

It would be hilarious if he wasn’t dying slowly with too much magic. Harry’s humor had developed a sort of morbid cast to it that made Hermione uncomfortable and Ron smirk unwillingly.

The solutions presented were weird though, ranging from a magic siphoning lotion, to a generator-like machine that needed magic to run.

The latter was the closest thing to a solution Harry had ever had and he actually spent the whole day lounging on the machine, having his magic sucked off and feeling more relaxed in months. (It didn’t last, the machine overloaded with too much magic. The inventor didn’t account for what would happen to all the magic after it got sucked off.)

They still used the MagGen when he had a particularly bad day, with Hermione on the team that modified it and made it better each time, it went from only one day use to a three day use.

Harry hoped Hermione would find a portable solution soon, because being attached to the hip to the MagGen was great, but he wanted to be able to go to Diagon Alley without feeling a thousand needles lodging in his feet every step he took.

Harry woke to the scent of flowers.

“Neville? What time is it?” he mumbled blearily.

Neville helped Harry sit up, the scent of damp earth and various green things clinging to him intensified for a moment.

“Just past lunch,” Neville answered. He patted Harry on the shoulder gently and presented his potted flower, along with a floating tray of food.

“I thought belladonna’s were poisonous?” he asked. The berries on the potted plant were the distinctive ones of atropa belladonna. The color was memorable.

Neville tucked the edges of the blanket around him better. “If you use too much, then it’s poisonous. It’s actually medicinal.”

Harry tried to wriggle free and gave up under a minute. “Neville, I need to eat. I need my hands to eat.”

The herbologist ignored him, grabbing the floating tray and looking, for all intents and purposes, like he was going to spoon-feed Harry.

“Neville, no!” Harry said, renewing his struggle against his blankets and succeeding in getting an arm free. “I’ll eat, I’ll eat.”

Harry ignored Neville’s self-satisfied smirk to at least retain a semblance of dignity. The herbologist was very good at wrestling misbehaving plants and it seemed to apply to ill wizards too.

The answer came to everyone when Harry woke up to his bedside covered in a riot of flowers, having slept a full eight hours without pain.

The only thing different was the belladonna that Neville had left on his table and it had gone through an accelerated growth overnight.

“Of course!” Hermione exclaimed, examining the plant. Whatever feedback she was getting was making her so excited that her hair was forming a cloud around her.

“Plants absorb magic from wizards and emit clean magic. They’re part of the reason why the greenhouse effect hasn’t actually killed off everyone, you know?” Hermione said, expression rapt as she stared at the belladonna. “Magical plants work, but I think it would work better with non-magical plants as well.”

Plants were his answer.

Harry called his lawyers and Neville Longbottom immediately.

Harry bought an entire mountain and commissioned Neville to help him.

They took long walks around the mountain as Harry’s strength started to return and he got more and more optimistic. He got very good at making hammocks as he spontaneously slept and did not feel any pain.

It was amazing and Neville’s smiles were golden as he did his best to harvest plants so that Harry could have space to do his crazy magical plant growth.

Herbology was a very specific trade and soon, they had enough profit to sell the magical plants to the wizarding world and the mundane plants to the muggle world. Neville had teams and shifts to work the mountain overnight.

Harry’s magic expanded but at the same time, the plants absorbed enough of the replenished magic that Harry felt safe holding his own Holly wand. It didn’t felt like a single spell would tear it apart and Harry actually cried holding the familiar wood.

“Of course,” Hermione said after two weeks of careful observation. “This isn’t a permanent solution. You are not stuck in your mountain, Harry. I’m working with Saint Mungo’s for a temporary pill suppressant? It would allow you to leave your mountain for three days.”

“I don’t actually find it bad?” Harry volunteered. Daphne huffed as he moved his shoulders. With an apologetic shrug, he went still as she poked him with her wand again. “I mean, I might need to build a house here eventually. I can’t sleep on hammocks forever.”

“You’ve been sleeping outdoors in hammocks!!!” Hermione shrieked. “You’re going to catch a cold and die! I’ve not been working my arse off just for you to die of a cold!”

Harry cringed but listened to the lecture with a smile. Hermione hadn’t felt comfortable saying the d-word near him. That she could meant that she must have felt better.

Before both witches could leave, Harry caught her hand and said, “Hermione. Thank you.”

Thank you seemed too small of a word to encompass everything she’d done for him. But Hermione understood.

Hermione teared up. “Oh, Harry. You’re welcome.”

Ron visited whenever he could spare time from the jokeshop.

Harry, who knew how insanely busy the jokeshop could get, was just grateful that Ron could spare him two hours.

“It’s still crazy that you own a mountain now, mate,” Ron said. The stress lines in his face had faded away when he saw Harry stand up and walk to him without a cane. “I mean, wasn’t it crazy expensive?”

“Well,” Harry mused. Fame was no longer a sore point for Ron, being a sort of war hero himself. But money… ”Remember during the war when we found those horcruxes in the items from the founders? Well, turns out, most of them were goblin made and the goblins were grateful to have them back.”

Ron looked concerned. “Harry. Didn’t we destroy Gringotts and let loose their guardian dragon? And weren’t those items destroyed beyond repair?”

Harry smiled. “Well. It turns out; it’s not the item that’s important, but the metal. Goblin metal is incredibly valuable and I just gave them three pieces full of it.”

“Hence, the mountain,” Ron said, nodding.

“Hence, the mountain,” Harry agreed. “And that I and all my descendants would stay as far away as possible from Gringotts.”

They walked a couple more feet and Ron looked up at the crazy height that the trees were reaching.

“Where are you living, mate? Mum did ask me and I don’t see a house,” Ron asked. “Not outdoors? Camping is all well and good, but I’d have thought you’d be done with it after what happened.”

Harry remembered Hermione’s shriek of outrage and shuddered involuntarily. “Nah. I’m talking to the architects and the herbologists about making a tree house.”

Ron smiled. “That sounds crazy. On these trees?” he gestured to the absolutely humongous trees that had sprung up after Harry settled in the mountain. “Wouldn’t they keep growing?”

“Ah, no,” Harry rummaged through his trousers for a piece of parchment and a quill. He flattened them on a flat rock and sketched out the idea. “What I was thinking was this. I’d take five trees, hollow out the insides some, the central one would have a hidden staircase and then I’d just have a bunch of houses up there in the five different trees, but they’re actually different parts of the house.”

Ron laughed a little. “That’s crazy. It sounds like you. That house sounds big, Harry.”

Harry’s smile didn’t die, but only because he pasted it on through sheer force of will. “Well, you’re gonna visit, aren’t you? You and Hermione?”

��Of course I will!” Ron exclaimed. His watch chimed an alarm. “Ah, shit. I have to go back to London. Your place is great, and you look better, Harry. I’ll tell mum so she can stop worrying about you.”

They embraced, Ron left and Harry sat on his rock and cried.

Neville had become a sort of therapist to Harry, which probably wasn’t healthy because Neville wasn’t a licensed therapist and Harry’s issues needed an entire team of them to deal.

Still, the herbologist, who had accidentally found the solution to saving Harry’s life, didn’t complain and visited every time he could spare.

“I feel like I’m going to die,” Harry confessed to his friend. “And I’m just here on borrowed time.”

“Harry,” Neville said quietly. “Is the pain back?”

Harry munched at the muffins and swallowed, feeling like he was eating concrete. “No. But, I can feel it at the back of my mind. It’s there. It’s waiting for me to slip up. To make a mistake. And it’s going to be back, harder, stronger and more painful than ever. That…this relief is temporary.”

Neville looked pained. “You’re not getting better, are you?” he whispered.

Harry set down the muffin and clasped his hands, wishing, idly, for tea or something stronger. “It’s been months, Nev. How much magic did Voldemort have? How much magic do I have? It’s not good for one body to hold two people’s magic. It’s just…not possible.”

“You will stabilize,” Neville whispered. He got up, rounded the little table, and engulfed Harry in a hug. “I’ll not stop. Me and Hermione, we’re working on it.”

Harry clung to his dearest friend and swallowed his sobs. He wouldn’t cry. If he did, he would never stop.

Luna, who had fled the country as soon as the war was over, hadn’t seen Harry since that fateful day in Hogwarts. She returned after a furious letter exchange with her father and visited Harry immediately afterwards.

Her protuberant eyes grew even wider when she saw him.

“Oh, Harry,” Luna whispered. “You’re…”

She hugged him.

Harry felt the tears stuck in his throat struggle to get out. He swallowed them down and hugged her back.

“You look great, Luna,” he told her sincerely.

Her dirty blonde hair had darkened to burnished gold under intense sunlight in the African desert and her skin was smattered with freckles and cheeks were sunburned. She looked alive.

“You look tired,” Luna said. “But you are standing upright. Tell me everything.”

Harry absolutely didn’t want to, but Luna, like Neville, was one of those people used to wrangling difficult things. Magical plants for Neville and magical animals for Luna. This translated well for Harry.

“Ah, it’s been a difficult few months, Luna,” he told her with a smile. “It’s nice to be able to see you.”

Her pale fingers tightened around his. “And it is nice to see you. Would you like some tea? I found some really nice herbal blends in Africa.”

Helplessly, Harry allowed her to feed him truly terrible herbal tea, until he cracked and told her everything just to stop the tea.

“You have too much magic,” Luna mutters. “It’s not that simple. You have incompatible surplus of magic.”

That’s the first time Harry had ever heard that about his condition. It was also the first time he had felt that much hope.

“Do you want to talk to Hermione?” he asked her.

Luna made a face. “Ah. For you, I will.”

Harry remembered belatedly that Luna and Hermione didn’t get along very well regarding magical theory even if both of them would kill for the other.

“I cannot ask for better friends,” Harry said, kissing her forehead gently.

Luna beamed.

Even with four people working on it, Harry didn’t get better. But he didn’t get worst either.

“We’ve stabilized it,” Neville told Harry. “You’re alright, Harry. You’re alright.”

It didn’t seem to sink in, until a year later, when Harry was cooking for a small group of his friends, who had their own guestrooms in his treehouse and he didn’t feel that bone deep pain hiding. That he hadn’t been feeling that pain for a while.

Harry dropped the spatula and had to grab the kitchen counter in a hurry.

“Harry!” Ron cried out, getting out of his chair and running to him. “What hurts?” he asked.

Hermione and George rushed in a beat later, wands out and alert. Neville looked terrible. Ginny’s hands were over her mouth.

“I’m alright. I’m fine,” he gasped. “I just realized. I’m happy.”

They all crowded around him and gave hugs and pats. Harry choked on tears.

“It’s alright,” he hiccupped.

“You are,” Hermione soothed. “You are.”

“I’m alive,” he said, almost a question.

“You are,” Ron said, hands on Harry’s shoulders. “You’re alive.”

It took a while but finally, Harry believed that he was.

Please tell me if I’ve written anything offensive for people who have chronic pain and I will do better.

88 notes · View notes

ninjakitty15 · 3 years

Text

Hair Today, Gone Tonight (Loki Oneshot)

It was not uncommon for Loki to take his time in his bathroom preparing himself for the day, he was a prince of Asgard after all and had to keep up appearance in every aspect. It was also not uncommon for him to stare long and hard at himself in the mirror to make sure every detail was perfect about himself, especially when he was always beside his perfect older brother the crown prince who could do nor look no wrong and constantly demanded all eyes to be on him. It was then slightly more uncommon for Loki to linger at his reflection as only once in a grand while would he actually find an imperfection or flaw that needed his utmost attention and time to fix or magic away. So in theory it was normal for Loki to take an awfully long time glaring at his reflection once more before he greeted the rest of the royal court of Asgard. Today was however an exception to all these things as it was a very rare occurrence for him to be cursing the Norns and growling in frustration during his daily preparations. The reason for this of course was because what was staring back at him in the mirror between his keen nose and his snarling, thin upper lip wasn’t just an imperfection but an impossibility.

Loki had come to accept early on in his long life that he would never sport such an eyesore of a facial feature as was seen mocking his otherwise perfect appearance. It wasn’t even a dashing looking mark like Fandral had, that suave blond bastard. He had long since come to take pride in his smooth, hairless appearance though as Volstagg and Thor were proof that with great hair comes great irresponsibility. Whenever there was a great feast within the palace walls, and there was always a feast for some reason or another, between the two of those bilgesnipes there would be a massacre that started at the dining table and end on their face. And Frigga wondered why Loki wasn’t gorging himself during the feasts like everyone else was. It wasn’t that hard to figure out when you’re stuck sitting between the beast with two beards, you either grow a stronger stomach or lose your appetite quite quick.

It also wasn’t hard to figure out that because it was impossible for Loki to grow face fuzz that not only was the one he had now not natural, but it wasn’t his doing at all and thus someone had to answer for that crime. No amount of scrubbing, potions, illusions, shapeshifting, or even old fashioned makeup could get rid of it either which further irked him but also narrowed down his list of suspects to one person. just the one, that had both access to his personal chambers within the palace walls but more importantly was foolish enough to prank the trickster god while he was taking a much needed nap after sparring against his brute of an older brother. Just one royal resident in fact besides Loki himself had inherited Frigga’s gift for magic as was clearly the source of this monstrosity of a moustache as if the mere sight of it didn’t irritate him enough. That fool was toast.

Loki threw open his bedchamber doors with vengeance in his eyes, already knowing his prey wouldn’t be too far, wanting to see his reaction to what transpired before running off. Right on cue as the door banged open, Loki could hear not too distant wicked giggling and the quickened pace of hasty foosteps fleeing from him. The telltale signs of a brat about to be caught that was too troublesome and young to master a decent gambling face, especially when they’re enjoying their troublemaking entirely too much. Loki easily started gaining on the little gremlin before their rounded a corner and disappeared into the nearest room with a squeal of, “save meeee!” Loki wasted no time blasting open the doors the brat was hiding behind with a wave of his hand which was still glowing green with his own magic to see Thor standing between him and his prey unsurprisingly, arms crossed and attempting to look imposing to someone that grew up with his own shenanigans.

“Step aside, brother, I have a pesky little bug to squash,” growled Loki, his gaze fixed on the twerp hiding behind Thor.

“I know you don’t mean my son but as I don’t see any other living thing here besides us, I think you must be mistaken on there being anything here to squish,” Thor challenged back.

Loki rolled his eyes at Thor’s attempt at diplomacy. “The only mistake here besides your attempt to stop me is your son’s current choice in free time activities and that is why I’m here to see that he fixes it before I fix him.”

“What are you prattling on about?” demanded Thor defensively.

Loki had also long since mastered the art of deception and redirecting people’s attention from an issue thanks entirely to his brother’s baffoonery as younger adults so he had been keeping his face turned away from his brother’s gaze to keep an eye on his prey. Till now when he actually met Thor’s eyes whose widened in surprise and mirth.

“Can’t you just wash that off?” Thor suggested, trying hard to suppress his laughter.

“That’s brilliant, Thor, I wish I thought of that first! Oh what a great help you are!” snapped Loki before he snapped his glowing fingers and a green ring appeared around Thor before the elder brother fell through the floor, leaving his son, Loki’s nephew wide open.

The little brat had the audacity to stand his ground as his father had taught him after fleeing initially and put up his fists in a fighting stance, even less imposing looking than his father was being less than half Thor’s size and not remotely as strong either.

“Who will save you now, I wonder?” growled Loki as he advanced on the cornered kid, a million different versions of vengeance dancing through his mind.

“You wouldn’t hurt your own nephew, would you?” the child had the balls to ask innocently.

“You are aware of our family’s long history of deception and betrayals, aren’t you?” Loki asked incredulously. “Why would I be exempt from that rule after you just followed that trait yourself, enchanting this disgusting feature on me? Get it off and I might consider a more merciful fate for you than what I’m currently planning.”

“And what are you planning?”

“Try my patience stalling the inevitable and you may have your answer soon enough. Off. Now.” To emphasize Loki’s point, he summoned a dagger in one hand while his other still glowed with magic.

The child reluctantly magically erased the enchanted ink scribbled on Loki’s face before a dagger was hurled at his head as Thor returned to the scene through the window behind him. The child however vanished as an illusion projection, the dagger at the same time disappearing as well as Loki clearly wasn’t actually going to stab him with it, it took years for Thor to get used Loki’s points, his child had a ways to go. Despite both child and weapon not being present in the room, Thor still had a sense to confront Loki after being literally dropped by him earlier. Loki however had other thoughts and a vast majority of them were still vengeance before dishonor, he too disappeared from the room before Thor could have a few choice words with him.

Thor’s son was very much like his dad in that he thought he had become pretty clever and believed he knew Loki fairly well. Well enough to trick the trickster at least. He also knew that anything and everything within Loki’s room was something secretive, powerful, and valuable and he wanted in on that. So that’s where he was, trying to sense with his quickly growing magical abilities where Loki kept those special artifacts. Finally, he managed to find something tugging on his magic from under Loki’s massive kingsized bed and eagerly scrambled under it in hopes of some kind of cool treasure to show off to his peers later. His hands brushed against a small wooden chest that seemed to be locked but he easily magicked the lock to open for him. He could barely contain his excitement as he grasped the lid of the chest with both hands eagerly and the faintest of green glows came from the box before he popped it open. He barely had time to scream as a large green snake sprang from the chest and wrapped itself around his hands and arms, effectively restraining him while its head was stationed next to his and poised to bite his neck, baring its fangs as if to strike. As he writhed and struggled against the snake’s hold, his ankles were suddenly seized by an icy cold grip and he was yanked out from under the bed and lifted upside down to face a lean, gold and green adorned abdomen.

“You think you were the first to try this tactic on me? Where do you think you got that idea from?”

The snake still wrapped around the brat seemed to laugh at his captive while the owner of the snake let go of his ankle, keeping the kid afloat before he was turned right side up to face the bemused god of mischief he was caught by properly.

“Perhaps you should ask your father what actually happened anytime he tried his little attempts at tricking a master trickster, his mistakes could be your lessons.”

“Or my triumphs,” snarked the kid back.

“And how is that working in your favor thus far?” Loki asked him slyly. “Your father has had centuries to try that on me, how old are you again?” He let the kid go and the snake melted into a large toy snake the kid was quick to escape from. “If I see you in my room without my permission, if you ruin a nap for me again, you’ll find your worst fear under your bed.”

“I don’t fear anything.” The kid held onto the toy snake, hoping to at least impress his peers with its realistic though rubber look.

“Your father said the same thing when I gave him that warning and he didn’t stop checking under his bed till he he had women in it.” Loki snapped his fingers and the kid was sent out of his room and back to his father for good this time.

Loki stalked back to his bathroom once more and looked at himself in the mirror just to be sure it was gone for good before sticking out a forked tongue at his reflection and smirking. He wondered if fears were a hereditary thing as that would make this whole “uncle” thing that much easier though he always liked a challenge in the end and his nephew having magic did have its merits. Let the prank wars begin...

#loki oneshot #writing prompts #Loki #Thor #Asgard #for @kaogasm

3 notes · View notes

ajoy3fanfics · 4 years

Text

Prompt 17: teasing

Smut Prompt 17: Stop teasing me so much

Written for @lavendertwilight89. Hopefully, you like it- this was written while quite drunk ;)

A mutal masturbation story for those in quarantine. Enjoy!

If there was one thing Inuyasha was sure of, it was that he was never going to survive this quarantine.

It wasn’t the social distancing, the restrictions about on crowd sizes, or even the competitive nature toilet paper had brought out in people.

It was that staying with Kagome was going to be the death of him.

Miroku and Sango had gone overseas on a trip, planned long in advance and scheduled for the beautiful weather, only to return home and find their city in lockdown. A minimum 14 day quarantine was required for anyone re-entering the country, and with Sango living with Kagome, and Miroku with him, they risked exposing their roommates to a virus the could potentially have.

So Kagome, the problem solver that she was, had come up with the brilliant solution that he could crash at her place, and Sango could stay at his. The pair could hunker down and ride out their 2 week isolation, without the chances of getting anyone sick, and Kagome and Inuyasha could just learn to live with each other.

Perfect plan, right? Less risk of infection and they could keep each other company.

In theory, it all sounded good- it made sense and yeah, he had agreed to it; but what she had actually arranged was for the slow torture of the hanyou.

Inuyasha had been in love with Kagome for well over a year. Once Miroku started dating Sango, Kagome inexplicably came with the package. He would come home to find the pair of girls sitting on his couch, waiting for Miroku to get ready for whatever plans they had that night. It was annoying, at first, to find strangers in his living room, but the more he got to know them, the more he enjoyed their company.

Especially Kagome’s.

She was bright and happy, always smiling whenever she looked at him. And to be honest, he didn’t mind. He was never much of a people person, but he found himself easily caught up in her. They had become friends in their own right, meeting up without their roommates. It was easy to be around her, even easy to fall in love.

There were times he suspected that she felt the same; he thought she was flirting from time to time, but he couldn’t be sure. She was friendly with everyone, so what if it was just his wishful thinking? If he had made a move on her, and she rejected him, could their friendship recover?

Those were all things that used to occupy his thoughts before.

Now all he could concentrate on was how not to cum in his pants every time she walked by. Did she always own shorts that short? Did she know that he could see the curve of her ass every time she bent over- and Gods did anyone need to bend over this much?

Never mind her shorts, he was certain that she had stopped wearing a bra the last two days. And sure, it was her own house and she should feel comfortable, but Kagome kept it rather chilly and her nipples always seemed hard, pressing against her shirt, driving him to distraction and making him feel like a creep.

And because they were friends, and because of Kagome’s nature, she was friendly. She was touchy- light gestures, but frequent enough that it felt flirty. When they sat on the couch- now his new bed- she was close- so close that when she leaned over to get the bowl of popcorn she was practically on top of him, her full breasts grazing his side. When she wasn’t practically sitting on top of him, she had her long, slender legs draped over his thighs, completely relaxed, as if this was a normal thing people did with him.

None of it was normal; people didn’t playfully shove him when he was being an ass, or fall asleep on his shoulder during a T.V. show; once it happened the first time, it was like a door had been opened, and she frequently leaned into him- almost a cuddle- and each night he tried to work up the courage to wrap his arm around her.

The problem was, he didn’t want to come off as a creep; he wasn’t sure if she was sending him signals or he had experienced so much blood loss from it all rushing to his dick that that’s what it seemed like. He wondered if he should try out some of the COVID-19 pick-up lines Miroku sent him daily; Since all the public libraries are closed, how about I check you out instead?

Kagome didn’t seem the type.

She was in the shower, one room away and just the thought of the hot water running down her body had him hard. He had been walking around this week in a state of permanent arousal and his balls were so blue he wasn’t sure if he’d recover. He needed to do something, needed a distraction. Everything smelted like Kagome, and being stuck inside with her for so long, he couldn’t help but imagine fucking her on every surface of her apartment. He had never really wanted to screw someone on an end table, but the image of her bending over, holding onto the corners for support as he slammed into her cunt from behind.

A distraction. That’s what he needed.

Dishes weren’t sexy. He could do a mindless chore and focus on something other than the way Kagome’s tits bounced when she did yoga in the morning, bending and moving her body in ways that he didn’t know a human could.

Dishes. He needed to turn on the cold water and get his hands wet. This was going to be the longest 2 weeks of his life.

~.~

The door opened, the slight creak making him turn his head instinctively; She emerged, a cloud of steam surrounding her, a green towel wrapped around her and thick, creamy thighs exposed and dripping wet. Her black hair usually had a wave to it, but now that it was damp it was curling, framing her face in a seductive way.

“Damn!” He quickly turned his head and muttered an apology apologized. He had expected her to scream, or to throw something at him for catching her in such a state, but instead, she stood still, as if considering her options. Casually, as if was the most normal thing in the world, she walked over to the sink where Inuyasha stood, hands deep in the suds.

She smiled and it totally caught him off guard. “You didn’t have to do that.” She said.

Inuyasha did his best to focus on the pan; it really should have been soaked and required his attention. Not Kagome, or the way her breasts looked amazing, pressed together in the towel that was barely tied together. “I-I don’t mind.” He sputtered.

Kagome liked that; from the outside, he was a stoic half demon, his claws intimidating and muscles threatening enough to keep people away. Yet here he was, nervous like a teenager, blushing, because of her. Kagome knew that he was more of a puppy than a demon, and deep down she loved it.

She loved him.

It had been a hard week for her; at first, she was thrilled and nervous and a million other emotions when he agreed to spend this time in her. Sango had been encouraging her for months to ask him out, but she never seemed to find the nerve. When he had come to her apartment, bag of clothes in hand, she took it as a sign that maybe, just maybe, he was into her just as much as she was into him.

She had thrown him hint after hint, had practically sat in his lap the other night, and he still kept his hands to himself. He looked so damn good all the time and she was beginning to lose her mind. Even now, washing the damn dishes she wanted to push him against the sink and strip him of that red shirt that hugged his muscles so deliciously.

She would never have dreamed of being this bold if it wasn’t for Sango and Miroku tirelessly reassuring her all week that Inuyasha was definitely into her. Normally, she would have never been so daring as to approach someone this way, but over the past week, she came to understand that Inuyasha was the nervous type. He had been trying- badly- to hide the fact that he was turned on by her, his sweat pants doing little to hide his rather large boner. While her plan was to put him out of his misery (and hers), a part of her liked teasing him, seeing him pushed to the brink and strained. At night she imagined himself finally losing control, taking her roughly and leaving marks on her body. She wanted to get him there, to get him so frustrated he has to make the first move.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” She asked, the same smile plastered on her face. Her fingers played with the bottom piece of the towel .

“Sure.” He answered, cheeks slightly pink from blushing. She smiled and he wondered how someone could look so dazzling.

“Great!” She jumped a little in her excitement and his eyes were glued to her heaving chest. “I’m going to get changed and I’ll be right out.

Inuyasha nodded dumbly, willing himself to calm down before he needed another cold shower.

~.~

She was wearing a white cotton shirt, and her body was still wet from the shower, sticking to her curves, making them more prominent. Inuyasha mentally cursed, both thrilled to see that she wasn’t wearing a bra again and also in agony. She was trying to kill him, he knew it.

“Your place, or mine?” She asked, trying to suppress a smile; Inuyasha was obviously flustered, taken off guard by her comment, by the way her pert nipples were showing again.

“What?” He asked, brows knitted together in confusion.

“I’m asking,” She drawled out, “Do you want a change of scenery? We can watch it in my room. You’ve been trapped in the same space for a week now. I thought you might like to mix it up.”

Great. Now she was inviting him into her room. It felt like it was a signal, but he couldn’t be sure. Kagome was friendly by nature and maybe this was her way of being kind since he couldn’t really leave the apartment. And to be honest the idea of seeing anything other than the living room, kitchen and bathroom sounded downright exciting; but that also meant that he would be even more confined, surrounded by her scent.

Not like the entire place wasn’t doused in it anyway. It should make no difference where they watched the movie.

“You-You wouldn’t mind?” He stammered. Since when did he fucking stammer?

“Don’t be silly. I asked, didn’t I?” She answered brightly. How much more obvious could she be?

“But, wont it be…I dunno, awkward?” He was 12. He was sure he had regressed to a pubescent boy. That had to be only reason he was acting like this.

Or maybe it was the fact that all week Kagome had been bringing him to the brink of insanity. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, tugging him along towards her door.

“You really surprise me sometimes.” She said with a laugh. If he didnt make a move tonight, she would give up.

God, she hoped Inuyasha would just kiss her already.

~.~

Kagome’s room was very much her. It was simple, but cozy, the bed flush against the corner of the wall, a decent-sized tv placed in front, standing on the tall dresser. Her desk was against the other wall, a bookcase pushed by its side. There were small touches- a few nicely framed photos and knickknacks that were proudly displayed, but overall, the room had a warm and welcoming feeling. The space was neat and tidy, but her bed was unmade, the green comforter in disarray, showing that Kagome was, perhaps, not the world’s most graceful sleeper.

“Sorry.” She murmured, walking to the bed to set it right. Inuyasha told her to leave it, and she nodded, making a comment that they were just going to mess it up anyway. She had the good grace to blush, just a little, however she did not correct herself.

Inuyasha waited for Kagome to climb onto the bed first, and he stood awkwardly, trying to figure out his next move. When was the last time he was in a girls room like this, just as a friend? Normally when he and a woman were near a bed, there was only one logical course of action. What the hell would a friend do?

Choosing to sit at the end of the bed, he sat up perfectly straight, too afraid to get comfortable, and waited for her to turn on the movie.

Once the screen lit up, Inuyasha felt content that he could relax- they were on her bed for crying out loud, but they were farther apart than when they sat on the couch, so the likelihood of him having to touch her was minimized.

The room, however, was filled with her scent.

It was faint, but he could detect traces of her desire, faded aroma of her release clung to her sheets. He would bet his life that she had a toy hidden in her nightside draw, just from the strong scent alone. Damn, the image of her pleasuring herself, alone in the bed- this bed- was enough to make his cock twitch.

Kagome leaned back against the headboard, eyes closed, as she massaged the back of her neck and letting out a soft moan as the tension released. She opened her eyes, only to find that he was smoldering, burning.

“What?” She asked, the hint of a smirk curling the corner of her lips.

Inuyasha swallowed hard, breathing in through his nose, trying to calm his nerves- a huge mistake- all it served to do was give him a better taste of her delicious scent. He had to do something- had to say something or he was never going to survive.

“L-look.” He started, words shakier than he meant, “I- I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, and fuck, I could be interpreting this wrong, but-“

Kagome stared at him wide-eyed, hand still resting on the column of her neck. ”But?”

“B-but it seems like your putting out signals, and fuck, I know this is awkward, and I’m not trying to make it that way, but for the love of God, please stop teasing me so much. I cant take it.”

Kagome blinked innocently, hand moving to the collar of her shirt, toying with the fabric as it exposed small glimpses of her neck. “But what if I like teasing you?”

“So you admit it? You’ve been teasing me on purpose?”

She smiled at that, beautiful and mischievous, a side he had not expected to see. He was even more shocked to watch as her hand drifted over the curve of her breast, his eyes drawn as she circled her nipple with her delicate fingers. Kagome arched into her own touch, biting down on her bottom lip to keep in a low moan. When she looked his way, she did not see the reaction she had hoped; he was stationary, taking in the scene before him, a blank expression on his face. Worried that she had crossed the line and made a huge mistake she stilled, praying that she had not misinterpreted things and make her house guest uncomfortable.

“Should I stop?” She asked, searching his eyes for an answer. As if hearing her voice had snapped him out of a trance, his eyes darted up to hers, heavy lidded and hungry. He took a deep breath, the scent of her making him dizzy. Quickly, he shook his head no, as if to say please don’t fucking stop.

Kagome bit her bottom lip as she ran her fingers down, gripping the hem of her shirt, small hand disappearing inside. With better access, she pushed her bra up so that she could squeeze her full breast, the cotton shirt bunching from the movement, exposing her flat stomach. Inuyasha’s brain was scrambling to catch up, trying to process the fact that he was watching Kagome touch herself, in front of him, for him. His hands seemed to move on their own accord, reaching into the band of his sweat pants to grip his throbbing erection and pull it free. Had he ever gotten so hard, so quickly? He felt a twinge of embarrassment- he had never done something like this before- and this was a really sudden development, but the way her scent spiked as she watched him stroke his cock left him little room to feel anything but utterly turned on.

If Kagome had felt nervous about touching herself in front of Inuyasha, the sentiment was long gone. Seeing the effect she had on him was hard to deny; his dick was hard, beads of precum leaking out, coating his head in his excitement, made her feel powerful and bold. She reached down, her hand easily slipping underneath her pajama shorts and quickly delving into the slick heat. Her lips pasted as she gasped, the pleasure so much more intense being watched than when she touched herself alone. Half-lidded, hungry with desire, she wanted to drink in the sight of him, all of him, but it was hard to tear her gaze from the sinful way he was moving his hand. A low growl caught her off guard, forcing her to meet his stare. The way he looked at her set a fire in her belly, causing her to buck her hips, grinding the palm of her hand against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Inuyasha breathed in, intoxicated and dizzy from the scent she was giving off.

“Fuck,” Inuyasha hissed through clenched teeth, pumping his hand up and down his shaft, trying to match his rhythm to hers. No longer able to handle himself, he rose his hips to push his pants down, revealing the full length of his member, much larger than Kagome had thought. Now that he was fully revealed, Kagome saw that his hand couldn’t close completely, his cock much too thick; she wondered how it would feel inside of her, stretching her core to its limit.

He wanted to leap forward, to push her back against the mattress and bury his cock inside her sweet pussy; he was reluctant to break the spell, almost scared to speak, lest she change her mind and stop the best show he had ever seen in his life. He couldn’t see much, her body still covered by her clothes, but he was able to see and smell each movement she made. She whimpered at his curse, his eyes glued to the way her hand moved beneath her shorts, the other pulling and tweaking her right nipple.

“Let me see,” He begged, “Please.”

Slowly, she withdrew her hand, her fingers slick and coated, only to wiggle out of her pajama shorts, revealing a pair of white underwear, trimmed with lace at the top. How could she wear something so pure looking and be so damn seductive? Her fingers dove down again, but this time, she pushed the fabric of her panties to the side, allowing Inuyasha to watch as she placed first one, then two fingers inside her dripping cunt. He couldnt believe he was this close to her, to the woman he had craved so long, watching as she pumped and curled her fingers, reaching a spot only she knew best, mewing each time her thumb circled her clit. He was hungry to touch her, to taste her, but starving to watch as she made herself cum.

Inuyasha felt like he was in heaven; even in his wildest dreams he could not come up with this scenario; She was calling his name now, broken pieces of it, as his other hand lowered to cup his balls, tight and heavy, ready to jizz. The pressure felt so good, so he gave them a slight tug, his other hand giving the head of his cock a slight squeeze when it reached.

“Can I come closer?” He asked, voice husky. Kagome nodded, and in a flash he was near her, pushing her back and spreading her thighs to make room for him. Kagomes breath hitched, excited and nervous, and completely focused on the way his hand returned to his cock. They were close, his dick mere inches above her pussy, wet and waiting; so close that she was sure he was going to line himself up and push into her, finally, but that never came. Instead, he continued to stroke himself, up and down, the pace much faster now, his breathing ragged.

Kagome, not one to be left behind, continued her to pump her cunt, fingers brushing against his as she worked herself to the brink.

“I’m close,” She panted, biting down on her lower lip as she rocked against her hand. Her thighs were wrapped around his waist, and his hips were jerking forward, each motion making him grunt in an almost feral way. His sack was brushing against her enterance, the sensation alone enough to bring him over the edge. He was close too, but he’d be damned if he came before her.

“Come for me, baby.” He commanded, loving the way she whimpered, the way she bucked harder against her hand, grinding her clit into her palm.

“Come baby.” He said through gritted teeth, his own hands rubbing and tugging his balls, swirling his thumb over the head of his cock, so wet and ready for release.

Kagome came with a muffled cry, body writhing, and Inuyasha drank it in greedily. Each movement, each time she thrust, brought his dick a little closer to her pussy, and with a strangled call of her name, he nut, hot white cum shooting out, onto her stomach. She moaned at his release, turned on at the sight of him utterly undone.

For a moment, he was unsure of what to do; it had always been his dream to be between Kagomes legs, but what the heck did he do now?

She reached between them, her fingers still coated with her desire and lightly traced the length of his cock. He had just cum, but he was already ready for round 2, her touches feather-light, barely there.

Gods, she was such a tease.

But fuck, Inuyasha didn’t mind it at all.

#inuyasha and kagome #inuyasha oneshot #prompt #ajoy3 #inukag

131 notes · View notes

dropsofletters · 4 years

Text

one hundredth page

title: one hundredth page pairing: qian kun/reader genre: university!au/silent love!au/friends to lovers!au summary: a thesis is just one big, long goodbye to university and a tremendous hug from adult life. it is also a headache if you happen to be a psychology major. when her friend basically ditches her as her partner on her thesis and the textbooks are unable to give her an eventful idea to get the best grade she can, her whole world comes crashing down. behind some textbooks in the library seated her savior, glasses propped on the bridge of his nose, lowered by his fingers when she screams: “qian kun, i need your help!”. type: fluff/romance word count: 10,756

As though needles are going through her throat, she feels. Swallowing is already difficult on its own, but having to sit down and work in a word count that seems unreachable. The line in the document blinks, mocking the stupid fifteen words she has out of hundreds more. Her head, though thumping with the need of rest, seems to be stuck in doing both things—writing her thesis and keeping her eyes opened, skin shivering with a triggered fever, blankets covering up her head to warm the air around her up while she shivers. Everything seems to be twisting and turning, her eyes glossy and unable to concentrate on the task at hand.

This was the worst season to get sick.

Sniffling, her fingers skim around the keyboard using too many ‘therefore’s’ and ‘furthermore’s’, none coming to the presentation of an issue that she should have plotted long ago. Nothing sounds perfect, keeping her in a never-ending state of turmoil and frustration. Leaning her head against her couch, she uncovers her face to breathe some fresh air in, wanting to toss her hand against the keyboard and then just send it her thesis partner’s way so she could get it over and done with. Nonetheless, that is far from the reality that she could potentially depend on, so she ignores the clogged up nose and the headache, and lets her hands do its magic in the blank document.

Only that her body jolts awake mere hours later, sweat pooling on her lower back and her forehead. When she opens her eyes, she hears the sound of pots clashing against one another—one of her three roommates must have gotten home, but the obnoxiously loud sound is not equal to the ringtone that fills the room. Draping one arm over her eyes, she remembers that her laptop is resting over her abdomen when the sound of a low battery percentage has her looking at the screen. Groggily, her hand pats around the coffee table, taking the device in between her fingertips, the name of her thesis partner glowing in the screen.

Not to be mistaken, this is quite possibly the most beautiful stressful time that she has ever gone through. A little bit of masochism there, something her psychology major tells her, but it is her truth. A thesis means that she is one step closer to earning that degree that she has worked endlessly for, long hours of studying sounding melodious to her ears when she recalls that she doesn’t have to do it anymore. Or, rather, she won’t have to do it after her thesis.

Gravity brings her phone down to her ear, nervousness coming to her senses when she realizes what time it is. Eight at night, and she started working on it at four. Whether it was her fever or the fear of failure, she did not know, but one of those had caused her to sweat endlessly, the friction in between her partner and herself suddenly becoming palpable when she picked up.

“Where’s your part of the thesis?” Swallowing thickly, she listened to the roughness of the woman’s voice, only to have her grasping at her throat. Somewhere on the internet, after tired research of what to do for her sore throat, she had heard that rubbing her knuckles down the column of her neck would help ease the pain and make it easier for her to even swallow saliva, but when she does such thing and tries to speak, her voice fails her, breathy and raspy. “Answer me! Hello? Are you there?”

“I—I’m sorry. I’m still sick.” And damn her body for not reacting how she wanted it to, but not enough reverse psychology has helped her to do anything that she should have done long ago. Her eyes are aching when she put her laptop down on the coffee table, turning to her side on the sofa when her classmate continued speaking.

“Well? You just have to sit down and write something. We have one month left and you’re procrastinating—”

“I’m trying. I’ll send it today.” She spoke, desiring her hardest not to snap at the person on the other end. Perhaps, the fact that she did not like being bossed around played a huge part on it or she sincerely only paired up with her classmate because said woman was the best in class, but that excitement to work together is long gone, as it seems.

Scoffing, the other woman says: “When will you send it? In the middle of the night as always?”

“What?” She asks, wincing audibly when a shrilling pain settled on the back of her throat. “I never do that! You’re just overreacting. Can’t I get sick for once without having you being so annoying?” Her eyes widened, her headache worsening with the stress that now took over her body. Typical, untasteful, bringing her a sense of panic and fear that shook her every joint, articulations too sore to move to her will, but the whisk of anger falls to lifelessness when she realizes she can’t even transport properly.

Miserable as always and obsessed with perfection, her thesis partner screamed into the phone before she could even say anything else. “I don’t know about you, but I actually want to graduate and with honors, not like some half-assed Freud wannabe.” Her lips parted at the sound of her voice, sitting up when she realizes it is just one of those nights where everything falls upon her feet, crumbling down to nothingness. “I’m kicking you out of this project. Don’t even dare do anything with it—”

“As if I would, you’re just studying theories that have been proved plenty of times before.” She lands some punches, threatened and triggered both at the same time, deciding that if she is going to sleep tonight, she has to do it with peace, knowing that she sat someone’s ass down.

“At least I know about said theories—”

“Yeah, whatever. Bye.” Her fingers press down on the red button like her life depends on it, closing her laptop with a thud before laying back on the couch, pulling the blankets up her body and deciding that for one night and simply one night, she is going to relax.

The next morning comes with the crippling fear of not graduating at the time she had hoped and of course, with lack of caffeine given that she can’t even let the liquid go past her throat without hissing at the pain. To say the least, she wants to run into dreamland and get lost in it, using her body’s automatic mode to start a new thesis and get it over and done with, but by the time she is out of her classes, she realizes that there is more to this world than letting it win over you, so with the little determination she has left and her hoodie pulled over her head, she lets the air of the campus caress her face, walking over to the local library to get lost in psychology books, free Wi-Fi and definitely and most importantly…get to that graduation and have her farewell with university.

The library is a place she frequented the most when she was a freshman or a sophomore, definitely the home for productivity during the hardest time of her university life. Those years, she did live far away from the campus, more often than not staying at the library when she had various classes in the day, studying in those hours and leaving to her home at ungodly hours of the night, only to wake up even earlier. She will never recover those nights of sleep, she realizes, the bags under her eyes more prominent at this time of her life than they had ever been before, but she thanks the excellent knowledge she earned in that time to the hardships.

She had forgotten the wood was dark in the library, definitely not the minimalistic style of decoration but it did have a monochromatic color scheme, tables filled with books and laptops, the book-club individuals clearly visible by the smiles on their faces as they read and the hardworking students even more noticeable with their looks of distress, in the verge of crying or laughing about their misery. Coffee filled the air, typical of students, and definitely somewhat intoxicating the more she neared the tables in the back—her caffeine intake was low, making her drag her feet against the floor, nodding her head to someone who greeted her though she did not even look their way, plopping down on the seat and putting her laptop down, her eyes trailing down the psychology section when she sees someone taking out a handful of books, turning around to introduce his enchanting face.

Oh, she knows this guy…and he may be the only great thing she has seen all week.

His brown hair neatly falls over his forehead, clear that he takes the time to make himself look good, the collar of a white shirt appearing under his beige sweater, the epitome of a studious guy as he makes his way through the library. In reality, he was there in those eventful days of studying in the library in her earlier years of university—Qian Kun is a studious psychology major, as well, definitely the type of person everyone envies for his habit of acing everything he tries. His features, though meant to be stoic and harsh, fall into the name of beauty—slightly bigger nose, thick eyebrows framing his sweetened eyes perfectly, thin lips in a rosy color when he takes a sip of his tea, different from the rest as he dives deep in a story of knowledge.

His name is at the top list of everything, word of mouth in the shape of those syllables that represent him, but he always disappears in the back of her head, memories that she never recalls of silent endeavors. She thinks that if they have talked once, it is an exaggeration of her, because in reality they only know of each other thanks to acquaintances. Not to be mistaken by lack of interest, because Qian Kun is evidently a man of high interests, sweet talk and enchanting nature…but he will always be another person in this world, people that will never have to deal with her…

He’ll always be Qian Kun. Never Kun. Never a friend. Just someone else in this library, taking the same space as her in that book-filled fantasy of hers.

Standing up from her spot, she was mindful of keeping her things organized before looking for her favorite textbooks in the psychology side of the library. Her nosy curious pushes her to press her hands on the expanse of the bookshelves to look at Kun’s face, writing down notes from something he just read, nodding his head along to what he had just written, using different types of pens and colors. Mindful, he is, and she bites her lip when a smile tries to escape, dancing along the subject that she had completely forgotten how cute he really is. In the first few months of university, she had prayed to have some classes with him in one of her semesters…and it never happened, fate knowing more than she ever would.

Taking out a few books, she rests them in between her chest and her crooked arm, taking one last glance at Kun before returning to her seat. On the way there, though, her body is stopped when a loud sneeze leaves her lips, sniffling her runny nose away and looking around to see if anyone had seen her. Not a single ‘bless you’ is thrown her way, but she does see Kun lifting his eyebrows, waving his hand at her softly with a pen resting in between his hair and his ear. She does the same, fingers wiggling before settling her mind into the task at hand: coming up with a thesis name, subject and getting it over and done within a month.

She can absolutely do this.

She will, rather.

In dreams, actually, because the hours she spends there are spent in absolute distress as she tries to come up with an idea, only to erase it quickly when she realizes it is not interesting enough. She crosses over the thoughts she had written down, the list becoming shorter and shorter with the passage of time. At some point, people start to leave, chairs dragging across the floor, the smell of coffee being replaced with sad and tragic atmosphere of the library when alone. The lights feel somewhat scarier when they cast down on her textbook, her laptop longing for some touch of interest, but it is abandoned. Her hands try to rub at her throat, wishing that her water bottle had some more of that juice her roommate had prepared for her, but that would never happen in such a bad week.

The sound of someone’s laptop shutting is not different from anything she has heard in the past hour but the smell that lingers fifteen minutes later does make a difference, much more when there is heat radiating towards her hand when someone places something down on her table. When she lifts her gaze, she sees soft fingers wrapped around a Styrofoam cup, reading a tea order that she would never be able to forget. Chamomile, good for the stomach and for the heart, but the person who put it there is even more interesting. Kun’s hair is a little bit more rustled, as if he had run all the way there, but that must be impossible. His cheeks are pink, tilting his head to the side slightly when he speaks.

“I thought this would be good for your cold.” Though, what she has is definitely the worst cold that could have gotten to her—she’d even call it a flu or the reason of her imminent anger, but she can’t voice that out, not when her voice suddenly disappeared in the morning, thanks to the usage of her voice the previous night. Her hands fiddle for her notebook, watching Kun’s smile fall when she uncaps her pen and writes down on the page.

“Sorry, I can’t speak well. My throat hurts too much.” She writes down, hoping that he understands her handwriting and it seems he does because he pushes the cup closer to her, humming at her reasoning.

“More of a reason for me to give you this cup of tea.”

“Thank you.” She mouths, watching the confusion on his face when reading her lips only to reach forward for her notebook, sighing with a smile on her face and writing what she wants to say. “Thank you, Qian Kun. It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s a pleasure seeing you, too. Well, I always see you around the campus, you know…” He trails his voice, licking his lips before giving her a shy smile. Wishful thinking is for her to desire to have a voice just to ask how he has been doing and what there is to him that makes him so interesting, but she is stuck in the state of blueness that overtakes her with sickness. “I’m glad to help.” She only manages to nod her head, lifting her thumb up in the air and making him chuckle, delightful to her ears when he waves at her. “I’ll have to get going, though. I’ve been working on my thesis all night…” It shows through his face, definitely not as clear as the helplessness in her face, but something is lacking in his precious and bright persona. “Go home soon, okay?”

And with that, she sees Qian Kun leave like he normally does, a stranger like always…a book she will never get to read, much less now that she is about to graduate—

If she finishes that thesis, that is.

📑

Seeing the starlight is the most magical moment of her night.

Working as an intern on top of being a student is the most difficult task of her life currently, draining all energy away from her, keeping her from dreaming the most impossible of things simply to stay in the now. Stars, however, do not think that way. They calm her down when she takes a deep breath against the bus’s window, clouding her vision for a moment, though it is forgotten when she closes her eyes. She weights the option of sleeping for a bit while she gets to the campus…or simply staying awake and relishing on a good night of sleep, forgetting the thought of getting lost in the middle of nowhere for her negligence. It seems the first option wins against the rational one, her head leaning back slightly as she relishes on the nicest sleep she has gotten ever since last week, when she was terribly sick.

The air in the bus is perfect, too, shy in its touch but cold when it approaches her, barely passing through her sweater but definitely not as welcomed by her leggings. Her eyes are droopy, already closed by the time her hands relax against her backpack, but the sound of someone sitting beside her wakes her up, gripping the straps of her backpack on her lap just in case someone tries to steal from her. Now with her mind buzzing with fear, she turns to look at the suspect, surprised by the turns of life of getting her to see a person she rarely catches up on twice in less than a month, Qian Kun’s gaze not even touching hers.

Did he sit beside her because he wanted to or simply because he decided to take whatever seat came first to his mind? She wonders, looking at Kun’s expression as he stares ahead. His hair is sleeked back, office clothes cladding his body, his blazer hanging from his crooked elbow, his tie a little bit loose—he probably doesn’t like being too put together, but he has to do it for his job. The stars disappear when he is there beside her, shining with the thin layer of oiliness around his nose, eyes portraying all the patience in the world when he breathes out to the atmosphere around them:

“I wanted to see how you were doing…” He says, turning his face to her and she can’t help but smile softly. Kun’s overall personality is very welcoming, the manly and naturally charming way he uses to speak coming off a bit nerdy when she looks more into him. Qian Kun reads like a man who is afraid of not being better, of not being good to others…and that is such a nice thing to have in someone’s personality at this era in the world. “Not that I got in this bus knowing you were here, though.” He excuses himself, even when she knows that is not the case. “…I didn’t even know you took this route. I found a job just last week and…you know, now I know you go through the same place that I do. We’re going to the campus, too.”

Chuckling slightly, Kun seems to be surprised by the sound of her voice. Void, it once was, not too long ago, and now life fills her fervidly with happiness. The sleepiness drains away from her, staying in the form of aching eyelids and a sense of hotness that lingers on her body even when she speaks to him. “Better. My throat doesn’t feel like hell for once,” She says, pressing her backpack to her chest before sighing. “I didn’t know you worked nearby, either.”

“I’m working for a psychologist. I’m still in the trainee stage…but I’m getting a paycheck, that’s good enough for now.” She imagines he is the one to search for bigger and better things, never staying in one place for too long if they mean to cut his wings. “I’m surprised you’re speaking.”

“Tell me about it. I drank lots of tea with honey.”

“Chamomile?” He hopefully asks, earning a shameful smile from her when she replies with a shortened ‘yes’. “I really enjoy the taste. It keeps me awake for when I have my long nights of studying. Much more now with my thesis and all…” One good look at him is enough to know Kun does not deserve to be alone in this world. No one does, unless they want to, to be completely alone—he deserves endless conversation, a text to welcome him after his long endeavors of studying, nothing more and nothing less. He, with his glasses propped up in the bridge of his nose, silver brimmed and shining beneath the lights inside the bus, looks like someone who has been alone once or twice in his life and though he had given his heart out to the stars, he never asks for it in return. She remembers him like that even from the first time she met him, fixing his glasses when he flipped a page to continue reading…he seemed so alone in his table and she was alone, too. What a curse of destiny to keep them that way.

“God, don’t even say the T word.” She sighs, closing her eyes tightly before leaning her head back. After all, keeping eye-contact has never been her best habit. She doesn’t do it often, really. “My partner left me and now I have to start the thesis all over again.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Who was it?” Kun asks, looking forward by the time she returns her gaze to him. You see, it has always been like this—when life reaches out to them to unite them, someone is out of pace. It is told that when someone is dancing and they cannot keep the tempo, their partner gets lost as well…and that is what happens with them. Two people who are so used to being alone that they don’t recognize company.

She pushes her lips forward, thinking about the uneventful night more than a week ago. “Did you ever have a class with Yuna?”

“The one in top of the class all the time?” Out of habit, he fixes his glasses and it feel damn right to have someone listen to her. What she rarely has now that she spends most of her time seated in desks, working for others and completing university tasks as an almost-graduate. “What did she do?”

Qian Kun is more than just a name; he’s the right amount of curiousness that a person needs to live an eventful life. Not to be mistaken, he’s not perfect, too manly in his way of speaking, perhaps a little bit obstinate with the people that bother him, but he’s charismatic, opening the gates of her heart as they go towards the campus. When the bus arrives to their destination, she feels like she is unable to pull away from him, finishing a story about something that happened in her past with a smile on her face, Kun listening with intent, ears made to make the world feel alive and his words light up the crowd in her stomach with warmth.

That night, even when she enters her dorm and all the lights are turned off, indicator of her roommates being asleep, she feels like she is not alone. That night, everything seems to be able to be okay for once.

📑

If she ever becomes a famous psychologist, and only if this happens, she wants every chapter of her life to be titled “what the fuck?”, either in all capitals or in lowercase, depending on the levels of confusion on each of these states.

Pushing her head further into her palm, she wonders if she will ever get an idea nice enough—even her new tutor tells her that she can’t seem to find her vision, the thoughtfulness that exudes from her when she actually thinks of something. However, her creativity is lacking, blocked by the utter stress of other classes and continuously working, leaving her with a mess of previous printed works in the library, reading over titles to see if she can get some inspiration. None of them hit her wildly enough, or none of them sound interesting, and the deadline is coming sooner. Three weeks to work through a presentation, write a thesis and ace it, as well as make a PowerPoint presentation that is both elegant and fulfilling.

Whites, grays, those are the colors that give out the most professional look, she imagines…but it’s not something she can do or think about if she hasn’t worked through the tangles of the project first. If she hasn’t picked a subject, actually. Turning around on her seat, she flips one of the printed thesis closed as she tosses the plastic-covered work to the side, picking another one up and reading through the first few words. Another Freud based work, next.

Her fingers are starting to become dry as she continues to flip through the pages, one after the other after the other, picking another thesis up and finding everything but inspiration. Sleeping sounds good at the moment and maybe, she should be back in her dorms instead of staying in the 24-hour library her university offers. She should really just try to rest properly and maybe; he’ll brain will work nicely again. She has only barely studied for the test she has tomorrow, given that she has been working endlessly n the new office and as an intern, she still has to organize the list of patients by case and date of their last appointment. It’s not exactly what she is studying for, but if she wants to be taken seriously as a psychologist, she has to go through this.

Through all the pain that settles in the back of her eyes, wishing to check the endless notifications she has on her phone of months’ worth of negligence, of forgetting about family, friends and roommates simply to sit down and get that degree. The hardest part of the run is when a person is about the reach the end-line; suddenly, she realizes how tired she is, how the other competitors are catching up to her and those who are ahead seem to be mocking her by now. What she wants and what she needs seem to be different, leaving her angered as she wonders if university was really the best decision.

When she lifts her gaze, she hears the sound of someone entering the library, restlessness taking over his body when her eyes take in his appearance. Qian Kun’s glasses are crooked, hair done a mess as he wears his pajamas—they are matched, nothing to be surprising about that, and she even catches herself gliding her stare across his toned arms, the definition of his waist when he leans over the table after picking out a variety of books. His jaw, marked down in a slightly curved shape and she swears that even though he is not smiling, the holes in his cheeks gave the depth of craters. Hypnotized by the beauty of him and lacking sleep, his legs seem a thousand times more inviting now that he sits down, meaty in just the perfect amount and…

The least she has to think about is making out with Qian Kun in the back of the library with one of those thighs propped in between her legs, but there she is, shaking her head as if she had just thought of the devil.

But Kun is an angel, there is no way he could ever be half like what has gone through her head just now.

Taking out his laptop, Kun gets to work even when she swears she sees eye-boogers in the inner corner of his eyes. His fingers move diligently, looking down at the set of words he had just pointed at with his finger, moving his gaze from the screen to the book, the screen to the book. He’s diligent, totally expected of him and the exact reason why she takes up on the challenge of standing up from her spot and screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Qian Kun, I need your help!”

Someone shushes her from afar, not to be misunderstood, even though almost five students are all the people that stay in such a place at that ungodly hour of the night, she is still a bother. Lowering her head slightly to the librarian, who only gives her a dirty look, she turns back to see Kun’s widened gaze from behind his glasses. She picks up the big amount of printed works she had picked out for the night, dragging them to Kun’s table and settling them down. The thud is softer than her shout, taking a seat in front of him in the matter of seconds. “Won’t you ever stop calling me Qian Kun? It sounds like you’re my professor.” He says, earning a giggle from her that she tries to muffle.

“I just have heard everyone call you that when they talk about you to me. Qian Kun.”

“Just call me Kun.”

“Okay, I will. I’m sorry.” She points out, knowing well that if she ever wants to tease him or get that supposed obstinate side of him out, she will use the Qian Kun card. Fiddling with her thumbs, she wonders if she really is interrupting him; he has taken out his set of pens and pencils, has a notebook open and is writing down whatever he has read in that textbook. “I was going to ask you, if it’s not too much of a bother however, if you could help me come up with a subject for my thesis.” It sounds stupid and it makes her feel even more so when she realizes that she is so idiotic that she can’t even come up with an idea. Kun frowns at that, blinking quickly as he wishes he could be more helpful.

“I would have to think for a bit…but…it was already hard to get an idea for mine.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck before stopping the movement of his fingers over his keyboard. “Ah, you know…my tutor was telling me that I shouldn’t work on this thesis alone and that I need to do some major improvements if I want it to be as interesting as it can get, so I think we could work together.”

On his head hovering was a halo, it has always been there, typical of an angel like him, but right now it seems to be shining towards her, a reminder that kind people still exist in this world. “But, I don’t want to be bothersome,” Still, doubt takes over her heart, afraid that he could ever think she is using him. “I don’t want you to think I am using you.”

“I wouldn’t think that!” He exclaims in a whisper before turning his laptop around, showing the title of his work and the pages that he has written. “I’ve been writing my thesis but it’s incomplete. I studied, theoretically, the aftereffects and psychological changes of physical affection after several meetings. I took up on different theories; from what could change if a person were to kiss a stranger or what years’ worth of a relationship can do to PDA.” The explanation is brief, simple, interesting and touching on a subject that everyone goes through. More often than not, students in university or college get lost in nightly affairs with absolute strangers and after graduation, most get married. Marriage life, however, can turn all types of affection into boring routines. “But Mr. Hung told me it’s too much theory. Real, but not practical.”

Her lip is bitten down by her teeth, staring at the screen and pressing down on the buttons to read more of the information. A frown settles on her face, taking in the information before clicking her tongue. “You have to study subjects, that’s what normally makes a thesis interesting. Like, a little investigation.” Finally, she looks at him. “We can find some people in the campus. Let’s find people that have been together for long, friends kissing, and maybe strangers kissing. We could study the state of nervousness, the levels of awkwardness, possibly the aftermaths and if they create some kind of bond in between the two. We could compare the passion between two strangers and of course, a couple.”

Kun nods his head frantically. “I have a camera, actually. We could make that work.”

“We could.” She breathes out, realizing that she is leaning over the table, pretty much nearer to him than she was in the beginning.

“If you want to work with me on this thesis, that is.”

“What? Qian—Okay, Kun, this is way better than the thesis I had been working in before.” Her eyes gleam with excitement, taking out a textbook from her backpack before smiling. “You have vision.”

“You think so?” He asks and she nods her head.

“I do.”

📑

Meanwhile, the video titled The Kiss Experiment shines bright on the screen, one of the earbuds in her ear and the other inside Kun’s, staring at two people kissing while monitoring their levels of stress and the heart rate, with interviews directly edited by her own hands. Not to say it was not awkward, because it is, simply sitting beside Kun as they look at the subjects, people that they had gathered from around the campus to share a kiss, whether they were a couple or complete strangers. One of them, even, is Kun’s roommate.

The closeness is permanent, knees touching each other under the table as they look at Dong Sicheng portrayed in the screen, along with the woman she had been friends with for a while, a sophomore in her own major. His fingers touched the loose strands of the black bun behind his head, the apples of his cheeks tinted pink but the tips of his ears shining with the color of red. Sicheng’s plush lips move as he tries to talk things out with the stranger, one of the many subjects that wanted to create a conversational bond before diving in the kiss. She realizes, too, that Sicheng is the nervous type—one that wants to please everyone and everything around him.

The magic was done in one week; finding the supposed ‘cast’ for this project, recording it and using the black and white color scheme that they had opted for their project. She has written far more in that week than she had done in the past, using the few free minutes she has at work to write down with endless inspiration, or even getting out of class with the document open in her phone, typing on the screen frantically. Kun is the same, sharing e-mails with her and texts asking how she is doing, their tutor becoming used to the new portrayal of Kun’s project and being far more interested, too.

Pointing at the screen around Sicheng’s face, she clicks her tongue before clicking her pen. “His level of stress is high. He continues touching his own hair and he keeps tapping his foot. Write that down.” And while she adds yet another line to the notebook, divided in different and typical reactions to the situation, Kun makes his annotations in their final draft. She looks at the paused video, Sicheng’s face on the frame when he looks the most stressed out. “Your poor roommate was so scared.”

“I had to get him out of his shell. He’s been so down after his break-up.” Kun tells her, that boyish tone on his voice when he finishes typing, returning his gaze to the screen even though hers is inspecting his expressions. There is something so radiantly natural about him, like he is exactly what he shows, not overly innocent, not exactly devilish. “Besides, he really liked the kiss.”

“Tell me about it,” She scoffs, resuming the video and turning to the screen, watching as Sicheng leans down to capture the woman’s lips in a kiss. “They were into it.”

“It was awkward, wasn’t it?”

“Well, we were locked in a classroom with twenty-six people, all paired up to kiss. And they all kissed right in front of our eyes. I think that’s awkward enough.” She chuckles, Kun’s eyes forming bags under them with the weight of his smile.

“People are going to think we’re cucks.”

“Damn straight.”

Taking her pen in between his fingers, he points at the screen once again, showing the side of Sicheng’s partner face. He is tentative, pointy in his approach when he has a theory. “I think she’s relaxed. Comfortable. Look at her body expression,” Just then, she realizes just how professional Kun is and that magnifies his attractiveness not by a hundred, but multiplies it to a thousand. His eyes study the situation nicely, legs spread and body confident as he speaks. His tone is casual, bringing a sense of comfort to him. “She has her arms wrapped around his waist, unlike most of the people who were embarrassed, and look.” His fingers press down on the spacebar to start the video again, pointing at the movement of her hands. “Sicheng took a little bit more of time to move his hands to her body, but her hands move from his waist to his shoulders and wrap around them. That shows she is the most confident one in the situation, thus the most comfortable.”

“Huh, I hadn’t noticed that…” She mumbles, even though she had been the one to edit The Kiss Experiment. Like gravity, she looks at Kun once again, realizing that he has left her pen over her notebook and writes something down on the paragraph they have been working on for the past couple of minutes. He is so poised, spending the last week giving her instructions and listening to her every word, as if they were meant to work together from the beginning.

As always, she finds herself staring at him and wishing that she could cross that line that keeps them as acquaintances and soon enough, colleagues. His fingers push his glasses up his nose, makes sure they stay in place as he continues to write, hair perfectly put together as always—unless she is counting that time last week when he came to the library after falling asleep, strands tussled to all sides—, sporting that peaceful look on his face. This is the type of beauty no book-club enthusiast could ever describe.

📑

“Go team!”

Clap. Clap. Clap.

“Go team!”

Clap. Clap. Clap.

“Go team!”

And she has never hated her youngest roommate, Mai, quite as much as she hates her right now. Mai is a sophomore, as well, going through the psychology major with the strongest of will but the tiniest of interests. To her, living is in the now, in the air they breathe in the present, which means that education comes second to the importance that is socializing, and, of course, going to the football game in the university campus sounds like an excellent idea. If only Mai was not screaming directly to her ear for the team to do something, when all they are doing is running from one corner to the other, falling on top of each other as if they had money on their hands to steal. The tiny woman by her side dressed herself appropriately, jumping on her seat with the university’s logo imprinted on her t-shirt and her reddened lips shining even more thanks to the Kool-Aid-looking drink she just had. Maybe, having a cheerleader girlfriend did rub off on Mai a little bit…or maybe, she is just naturally obnoxious.

Seated on her chair, she tries her hardest not to fall asleep. As of now, she has already taken her phone out to work on her last version of the thesis—but it is under revision, and instead of studying in the last week she has before her presentation, she is now in some football game because Mai insisted that she needed to have her last ‘university experience’ before she graduates. If she even dares to blink, she is scared that her roommates are going to take her out for a one night stand or some ‘sexy hook-up’ to give a ring to her studious experience. Instead, she opted for the least draining and the most annoying option of her university experience dream which is going to this football game.

Tugging on Mai’s shirt, the woman looks down at her with widened eyes. “What?!” She screams over the noise of equally as excited students, making her wince at the sound contamination that is going around the place.

“I’ll go get something to eat, okay?!”

“What?! I can’t hear you!” Mai points out, her hands cupping around her ears. “You’re going to fit what?!” She doesn’t know what Mai is understanding at this point, but she does movements with her hands, faking that she has a plate on one and is using a fork with the other before screaming once again.

“I’ll go get something to eat!”

Nodding her head, Mai gives her a sweet smile, typical of the charismatic woman. “Ah, okay. I’ll wait here for you!”

The hardest task comes when she has to push through the crowd of overly excited students, all placed on her way until she finally gets out of the masses of people. The farther away she is from the groups of people, the nearer she is to the food stands waiting with microwave heated junk food to fill her stomach. However, when she tries to look for the little bit of money she had brought with her, she is surprised to hear the sound of someone calling her name. The hallway is mostly lonely, apart from the workers of the food stands, but when she really does look around, she realizes Kun is rushing towards her, cheeks heated thanks to the work-out he had just done to get there. Just like Mai, he is wearing one of those notorious football team’s t-shirts, still fitting his frame nicely.

“I didn’t know you were coming here!” He says excitedly, hands resting on his knees as if to catch a breath. She chuckles at his actions, pushing her money down on her pocket once again when she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Why were you running?” It is common nature to be surprised by Kun. The more she spends time with him, the more she feels like he is truly the most genuine person ever. They share a Google Document, spending a chunk of their time leaving little notes and information on the document for the other to read. Whenever they come together in the library, conversation always ensues, about psychology or movies, even getting distracted with magic videos as they try to solve them. Kun is deeply interlaced with hope for her, now.

“I—One of my friends is playing, but I didn’t get here on time. The game is about to end, right?” He asks, only to earn a side-grin from her.

“Ask me again and I’ll still come up with nothing. I was sitting on the bleachers but mentally I was taking a nap.” Sweet and elongated laughter leaves his lips when he stands in front of her and she joins him slowly, realizing that this is far funnier than anything she has done with Mai. “I came here with my roommate…I was going to be studying for our thesis presentation, but she told me I needed the university experience and I came to my first football game. I regret it, though, not as fun as I expected.”

Kun’s eyebrows shoot up at that, pointing down at his shirt. “I like football.”

“I could tell.” Without knowing, they start walking down the hallway, getting further away from the masses of screaming people and nearing the tranquil campus with each step. “Why weren’t you part of the football team?”

Thoughtful he has always been, fixing the glasses that frame his face as the habit that will always stick with him. Whether they are sharing a spot in the bus, like they do almost every day, or if they are seated in the library, Kun is always a masterpiece to look at—and to hear him, god, to hear him is heaven itself. The nature of his word is caring, honest, he has the littlest bit of mischief that she likes to turn around so it ends up somewhat affecting him. She simply adores listening to his voice, the honey of her tea. “Do you even see me as the type to be in the football team?” He asks. “They are all buff.”

When she interlocks her hands behind her back, she comes up with the perfect retort. “…You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Thank you, but I’m not even football-team level of buff.”

“Oh, no, I don’t mean that. But don’t look me in the eye and tell me you don’t work out even the tiniest bit.” She judges him, a smirk appearing on her face when she sees him nod. They stop right in front of the entrance door, the little glasses on the upper part of them showing the stars that decorate the sky, enamoring her with a night of sleep.

“I do,” He announces. “Still, not as buff as a football player.”

“But you’re better in my eyes.” She shrugs, all knowing of the fact she is practically flirting with Kun…but hey, only a week from then, she will be saying her goodbyes to her thesis and thus, her goodbyes to Kun. This has always been written in their story, mainly because Kun has never shown any signs of romantic interest—of juvenile kindness, of course, he has. One day, they will be two strangers again; when he gets that full-time job in the office he has been working in and at some point, she’ll get a lift in her job, or maybe, she’ll move to another state. That’s what she doesn’t know, what the future uses to mock her when she realizes that being an adult is just as puzzling as growing through teenage years. “What matters is that you try.” She says.

Shrugging his shoulders, he stares into her eyes before leaning against the doors. “I never thought I would be the type of guy to be in the football team.” He clarifies, taking out any clouds of confusion that may be in between them. With each moment they spend together, a layer of their past, present and future shows for the other to judge. “I’m not in for the frat-boy lifestyle. I came here to get a degree, make some friends and leave without any judgement. I didn’t want to be known as the football player, or the book-club guy, or whatever. I just…I don’t know; I don’t like titles to my name.”

“You just only wanted to be Qian Kun.” She teases, biting her bottom lip to stifle a laugh, but Kun simply rolls his eyes, a defeated smile making a plot-twist on his face.

“Kind of. Yeah. I like who I am.”

“You should.” She says. “Not a lot of people are like you, me included.” When she crosses her arms over her chest, she opens the doors, watching the night sky from a nearer perspective, letting the gust of air rub on the skin of her collarbones, Kun’s cheeks and for a moment, it messes up his hair. “People like me…we just look at life as tasks. We leave everything for the last minute, we…need inspiration to continue with life. You are not like that.” She whispers to the night, as if she wants to take the opportunity to tell him everything he has shown her with the most simplistic of gestures. “You are Qian Kun, responsible guy, even more responsible worker. I’m sure whoever hires you is going to have a blast.”

“…But when you get inspired, you create magic.” Kun reassures, something that has her scoffing. “I mean it! Your way of redaction, your ideas—your editing, the colors you used for The Kiss Experiment were beautiful. You may not be based on theory, but your creative approach is…wow.” The compliment has her smiling, suddenly realizing that they are alone while everyone else has fun.

“Thanks, Qian Kun.”

“Kun.”

“I’m just saying your last name.”

“But it feels like a teacher is calling my name. It brings me high school flashbacks.”

“Well, sorry.” She excuses herself with a smile on her face before nodding her head slightly, more towards the door as if to prove a point. “Do you want to go grab some real food before we have to go back to our dorms? I’m starving and I think if I eat those nachos over there, I may not make it to the thesis presentation.”

Stepping out with her, the man hums a small ‘yes’ before frowning deeply at a thought that seems to bother him. “Now that we’re mentioning high school…on a scale of one to ten, how much did you hate it?”

“Nine point eight.”

“…I don’t know what kind of answer I expected, but I should have expected that one.”

Some days, talking does not come easily—either her throat is hurting because she is sick or simply, she doesn’t want to deal with the effects of talking. Other days, shutting her mouth up is the hardest task ever, this happens when she is worried out of her mind and she needs to rant about all the possibilities to the person that stands in front of her, but Kun has this effect on her that has her talking, but at the same time she basks on the sound of his voice, on the gleam of his eyes with the night sky reflecting on them when they share a meal together in his favorite cheap restaurant near the campus. His excitement at life is enviable and sometimes, she thinks he is a walking encyclopedia. He knows too much, talking comes easily to him and there is never a dull moment with the man. Boring, he’s not, rather, he’s enchanting.

A gentleman crafted by his own actions, though subtle, in the way he accompanies her in the campus and reassures that he is going to walk her to her dorm. The walk there is even more enjoyable, looking up at the night sky with more of a silent atmosphere around them; the jocks must be celebrating, the cheerleaders must too, the chanting people are probably careless of the exams they have to present this week and went out, as well and their suspicions are made a reality when she approaches her building to realize there is not a lot of noise, even a penny falling to the floor would outcast the sound of their hushed voices.

“So, here’s mine.” She finishes after giving him an introduction to her building, his gaze that had been everywhere but on her now resting upon her features. His fingers are resting inside the pockets of his jeans, smiling softly at the woman he is about to say his goodbyes to. “You shouldn’t have walked me here.”

“This campus is crazy, we don’t know what could have happened to you if I didn’t.” Kun says, licking his lips before tilting his head to the side. “But hey, I made sure you got here safe.”

“You should go back now, too…it’s late.”

“I should, I’m dying to get some sleep.” Her fingers hook around the key to her dorm, twisting it when inside the doorknob to open her door. “I had an excellent night. I—I wanted you to know that.” The man says with a stutter, making her smile when she pushes her door a little bit more.

“Yeah, we should do it again sometime when we don’t have to worry about our thesis.”

“I would love that.”

“Goodbye, Kun.” Though, she doesn’t want to say goodbye. What she wants to do is stay with him, even in utter silence, because talking to him is heavenly but getting to feel his presence is more so.

“Have a nice night!”

“You too!”

When she closes her door, she is surprised to see the lights turned on but when her gaze falls on the three women seated on their small couch, she realizes that she has just been waited-on by her group of roommates. Mai is the one that looks the most disappointed, given that she was also the one that ended up being abandoned in the middle of the football game, but her two roommates spur to life when the sound of Kun’s footsteps get far, far away, cradling their roommate in between their hands to push her to the couch, as well.

“Oh my God, you like Qian Kun!” She can’t help but let out a smile at that, denying it with the most cynic of expressions because…she may like him a bit. The next question thrown her way, however, puts her off guard.

“Is his dick big?”

Sitting up, she opens her mouth wide at the sound of one of her roommate’s voices. “I didn’t see his dick. Is that why you were waiting up for me?”

The three people that shrugged at her shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was at the time.

📑

One day. Make that twenty-four hours. If in one hour there is sixty minutes, in twenty-four hours there are one thousand four hundred and forty minutes. That should be enough preparation for a duo of people who are trying to speak about the effects of one-night stands, romance and how it develops in physical touch throughout the years, the levels of stress it brings and obviously, the easier it becomes with the passage of time. This, on its own, she already knows it. The…hundred and something pages that she needs to read, re-read and continue to do so until her thesis presentation comes by is a little bit more difficult to remember than the simple fact of their experiment.

Lucky for them, or for Kun, one of the professors loves him enough to lend them a classroom. This classroom had welcomed a group of students a handful of weeks ago to use them as experiments, basically, but is now the peaceful place in which they stay as they study together. Hours and hours have gone by, practicing their introduction, what they are going to say, the possible questions and the answers that they could give, taking something that is learned by memory and turning it into passion, into basic knowledge for everyone to understand. All energy is drained away from them at that moment, leaving them lifeless in the spacious classroom, white walls and blinding lights making it seem like she is about to lose her mind. Her partner, on the other hand, seems to be somewhat sleepy, but calm.

His cheek is pressed against a guitar that they found in the classroom, resting on his lap in a comfortable manner. Under him there is the textbook she owns and Kun seems to adore—no, he simply fell in love with the words, the knowledge, the written explanations that leave nothing to the imagination. On the desk, there rests an empty box of pizza from some place Kun has been gushing about lately, but she can’t even concentrate on the hunger that starts to settle on the pit of her stomach when she realizes that there are only twenty-four hours until she defends her last bit of knowledge from her major. That is scary on its own.

The sight of her face must have shown every ounce of anguish that she feels in her heart, because the sound of Kun standing up from his seat and moving towards her catching her attention. He places his hand down on her hand, stopping the movements of her fingers against the desk as he gives her a natural smile.

“Is there something bothering you?”

Everything.

Fucking everything.

She didn’t even realize when she had grown up and right now, at this point of her life, she still feels like a damned teenager. She doesn’t know where she is going, if this job is good for her, if she is knowledgeable enough in the major she has picked, if she will ever be able to give a presentation to this thesis and make it worthy. All she knows is that she is stuck in this moment of reality in which she knows she is about to give one huge, big step into adulthood and it is the scariest thing she has ever done. Nodding her head, she tries to find her voice, like the moment almost a month ago in which she had encountered Kun in her life. “I am just…nervous.” Her tone is tiny, like it may get lost in her windpipe if she simply doesn’t open her mouth a bit more. Shuddering away from him, she crosses her arms over her chest. “What if I don’t do good?”

He shakes his head, dragging a seat until he is seated in front of her. “That is impossible.” This confidence radiates from him sometimes when he has a really good gut feeling. She doesn’t know how Kun does it, but it may come from the fact that he is based on theory…he knows how people work, what they do, why they do it, like any good psychology major should. “You have helped me craft this thesis into the beauty that it is today. I am sure you will do excellently as long as you don’t let your nervousness get to you.”

“But what about life, Kun? What about how I will do at life?” She asks, warming up to him like she has only done it with a handful of people. Most of the time, she likes to speak about subjects as such with people she has known for years, but Kun is special in his own way, radiating an aura of understanding nature. “I’m afraid that I will go out to the real world and that my major will looked down upon. There are plenty of people who go to university and less that graduate, but still a number of people, and they could all be more outstanding than me or better at their jobs than me.”

Humming, he moves his head from side to side. “That can happen,” He starts, blowing at her heart with his words, a little bit of pain ensues from what he says. “But that doesn’t mean it is a bad thing. It will only push you to work harder. Just think of what happened last month, you had already worked on a project and she left you alone. But…when you started to work with me, you were so fast. You did everything exactly how you wanted it and it worked out perfectly.” The compliments have her looking at him with interest, wondering what she had done to get such a full person in such little time. “That shows that you accommodate to the situations in life and that, even when you do it last minute, you come up with incredible ideas and turn a bland project into something incredible.”

“You were the one to create this experiment.” She pushes on him, and the man simply hums.

“It wouldn’t have worked the same if it wasn’t for you. I wouldn’t be half as into it if it wasn’t for your idea.” He argues, earning a smile from her when he rests both hands on the desk, their legs touching under the tiny frame of it. “Let’s practice it one more time and leave it at that. We’ve been locked in here for hours and I feel I’m going crazy.”

He would never notice the beauty of him, the way he stands with pride, how he passes every PowerPoint slide with such ease. The tone of his voice, his intelligence, all masking that naturally enchanting side of him that she has always gushed about. Qian Kun, a month ago, was nothing more than a name and now…it holds the meaning of a person she can’t get out of her head.

📑

The air is taken out of her lungs, limbs shaking by the time she is standing in front of the thesis judges, a few of her classmates sitting down and looking at the presentation uninterestedly, much more given to watch the initial video showing their experiment. It was a risk to do such a thesis, but it was loved by their tutor—something that needs to be studied, sexuality and romance both being equally thought-provoking in the scientific light. The green dress makes her feel a bit stupid, maybe it is not really her color, maybe it should be tighter, but she is trying to remember everything she had learned, giving part of her thoughts and her insight on everything that she is saying.

Kun excels, easily, like he usually does without knowing. She swears she can see the light in his eyes passing through his glasses when he speaks, the same one that he held while they were in the library, wasting or earning time she doesn’t know. Even when he was totally nervous, he still manages to make her feel better—because that is how he is. Psychology teaches people that they have to study others, look for an issue, a pattern, a certain numeration of dots that shows a conclusion in a hundred, but she doesn’t want to study Kun or look for the bad in him when all he has shown her is good. He deserves that, the hug that she gives him when the judges congratulate them, the hundred out of a hundred they got on their presentation, making her wrap her arms around him and hold him in his arms out of thankfulness; the feeling that bursts from her chest mixing in with it.

She has never hugged Kun and this is definitely a good start for that touch. His arms wrap around her waist, finally feeling the tightness of his muscles, the soft skin of his fingers digging on her skin. His smile is prominent to the point she feels his cheeks pressing on her shoulder, chin digging on her scapula. She holds him by the shoulders, and just like he said when he pointed out Sicheng’s video, her hands go to his neck, brings him closer as she thanks him over and over again, getting out of the room whilst talking, their eyes only trained on the other, barely acknowledging the people who congratulate them out of formalities.

Kun takes his backpack away from its spot, opening while she speaks to him. “I can’t believe we got…shit, like, Kun, what are we going to do to celebrate?!” She asks, voice loud now that they are away from their judges. At some point, she knows she is going to have to take a picture with him and commemorate the moment the ‘Freud Wannabe’ got a better grade than her previous thesis partner, but that is in the back of her mind when Kun’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are almost tearing up out of excitement.

“I don’t know!” He says, taking the well-known textbook out of his backpack before giving it to her. “Take this. I forgot to give it back to you yesterday and…yeah…”

“Why did you carry this here?! This is heavy.” The sound of her voice is surprised, pushing the book under her armpit to keep it close to her body, but Kun only smiles.

“There’s something on the hundredth page.”

Her forehead tightens under her frown, dragging the book away from its spot only to open it on the hundredth page. Flashbacks come back to her, notes stuck to notebooks, pens of all colors, all the essence of Kun in them, but now one of them is attached to the beginning of the eleventh chapter, the one they had studied endlessly for their presentation. The paper is brightly yellow, the letters in black as she reads the words ‘do you want to go out on a date with me?’ there and she swears she feels a smile permanently making home out of her face. When she looks at Kun, she realizes he wants to run away at that moment—afraid that he has pushed her away from such a question.

Little did he know that this is only the first page of their story.

#kun scenarios #kun #wayv scenarios #wayv #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #cpop scenarios #wayv au #wayv fluff #kun au #kun fluff #the love diaries #university!au #psychology major!kun #nerd!kun

253 notes · View notes

giogio-gucci-gangstar · 4 years

Text

Oranges Have Feelings Too

Thank you @hoetaro-kujo for entering my little writing raffle! Hopefully you like this!!!

Summary: You and Mista enter a prank war against Fugo and Narancia.

CW: Nicholas Cage

“Babe?” Mista called from the other room. You shifted in your seat. Your head was still dangling off the edge of the couch as you bookmarked the page of your latest mystery thriller, eventually sitting up.

The world spun a bit as he blood rushed out of your head before you replied. “Yes?” You were a bit hesitant. You weren’t sure if this was going to be one of his sweet and sassy moods, or if he was already scheming for some fun. Either worked for you, even though you were on the shyer side, Mista and the gang made you feel comfortable to be yourself. It also helped that you loved Mista and everything he did.

As you walked to the kitchen to meet him, you tried to smooth down the wrinkles in your hoodie.

“So,” Mista threw a nut into his mouth, “remember THE INCIDENT?” By the way he said it, Mista was definitely hinting at something specific. But with him, there were too many incidents to count.

“When No. 5 got scared and tried to crawl up your-“ Mista cut you off quickly.

“GOD NO!” While that event had been traumatizing, for both of you, it was not the incident he was referring to. Given how he nervously bit his lip, it would seem the incident he was talking about rattled him more emotionally…

“Ya know…” he managed to spit out. He made a few incomprehensible hand gestures and continued, “the one with Narancia and Fugo?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, hinting that you should definitely remember what had happened with them… Simultaneously refusing to give you any more details.

“Oh come on Mista stop being so cheeky and just tell me!” You were getting a little frustrated at this game of his.

But he just batted his eyes at you from across the kitchen, “I thought you liked my butt cheeks…”

“Oh shut up!” you were a little flustered so it took a moment to carefully choose your next guess. “Was it when we walked in on Fugo and Narancia kissing?” You offered.

“Noooo! How many times do I have to tell you, they weren’t kissing! They were just trying to bandage the cuts from where they had stabbed each other! At most it was a brotherly hug.” He was getting frustrated now. Apparently the incident he was talking about was too difficult to physically talk about.

“Ohhhh was it when they, ya know, wrote,” Mista’s eyes bulged terrified that you would say the cursed word, “a certain scary number, all over your clothes?” Mista was shaking from the memory.

It had been a terrifying day for him. He nearly pulled his hair out because he couldn’t find a single article of clothing without a number 4 written all over it in black ink. You had never seen him so stressed, clothes were being thrown all over his room, and lights broke, but his high pitched screams pierced all other noises.

“Yes yes that one!!” Mista was flailing his arms around, so excited that you had guessed correct.

“So now that I’ve won your little game of charades, will you tell me why we’re playing?” You couldn’t help but tease him back. The boy was so outrageous your sarcasm just dripped when he was around.

“Well,” ah there was that glint in his eye. He was already incredibly handsome, but when he was feeling mischievous his eyes were almost radiant. He puffed out his chest a bit and he folded his arms with a certain swagger.

“I have found a way to get revenge.”

“Oh really?” You leaned over the kitchen island looking at him. “And what might that be?” Sure it was probably a little immature to scheme against your teammates, who hopefully weren't eavesdropping from their rooms down the hall. But a little prank war was necessary for morale, no matter how many times Buccellati and Abbacchio insisted it wasn't.

Mista’s face lit up in a maniacal grin, “I’m going to convince Narancia that some fake facts are true!” He was so excited he was practically vibrating.

“Remember how angry Fugo was when Narancia told him the earth was flat? It's like two birds with one stone! Tricking Narancia and pissing off Fugo!” Mista was very proud of his plan. He was practically patting himself on his back.

“I think the next one will be that vaccines don't work! Or that birds are government surveillance drones!” Mista kept prattling on about nonsense conspiracy theories, that Narancia would be very easily convinced were true.

Of course you were very proud of him, and obviously that would be hilarious to watch. But you remembered how terrified he was by their last prank… He needed to do something even worse back to them. Funny for you two to watch of course, but also just a little scarring for the boys.

“That would be hilarious, but maybe you want to do something a little more permanent? Like really screw with their heads and stuff?” Mista scrunched up his eyebrows and looked at you in confusion.

“Just because their last joke was a little… cruel? I think we should be a little edgier with our retaliation strike.” You were a little worried he would think you were taking it a step too far, but after a few more seconds of pondering, his face lit up again.

“Lets do it!” You met his grin with a warm smile. This was going to be a very exciting day.

“So. What do you have in mind?” Mista asked, but the gears were already spinning in your mind.

“Who does Fugo hate most in the world?”

“Always himself, sometimes Narancia…” He stopped to think for a little, “Oh and always Nicholas Cage.”

“Brilliant! Now, what is Narancia’s favorite food?” This was the real clincher. Yes, Narancia was baby, but he was also a baby who carried a switch blade and was super excited to use it.

“Uhhh maybe strawberry cake? Oranges? Chocolates? Really I don't think he would turn down anything sweet.”

“Perfect.” It was all coming together.

~~~~~~~

“I don't think i ever need to see Nicholas Cage’s face again.” Mista complained as he slid down the closed door of Fugo’s room.

“Too bad you’re looking at him right now,” you snickered as you held up a print of him in front of your face. You were pretty proud of your handiwork. There was not an inch of Fugo’s room that was not covered in Nicholas Cage’s face. Mista had even wrapped his pencils and books with the wrapping paper you had custom printed. You were down about 50 Euros, but it was a small price to pay when you saw Fugo’s reaction to this masterpiece.

The clock struck 12 and you heard the ridge door open in the kitchen. Aaaaand here he was. Right on time.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” His scream was muffled by the door, but evidently he had seen Nicholas Cage’s face duct taped on his sandwich too. You quickly pulled Mista into Fugo’s closet so you could have prime seats of the impending meltdown.

Fugo’s footsteps were heavy as he pounded his way down to his room. You had to cover Mista’s mouth to keep him from snickering and giving away your position. Then there it was, the fateful turn of the doorknob.

You peered through a crack in the door and saw a look of pure terror spread across Fugo’s face as he saw even his bed covered in Nicholas Cage’s face. He took a shaky breath and tore back the comforter to see that Nicholas Cage was IN his bed too. His breath was coming in fast bursts as he spun around the room. He spun again. And then again, before releasing an unearthly howl.

“MISTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

Mista couldn't contain his laughter anymore and cackled his ass off as he sprinted out of the closet and down the hall before Fugo could catch him.

~~~~~~~

“Are you ready for this responsibility Number Five?” Mista held the little Sex Pistol up to his face. The poor little guy was crying tears of joy, he was never chosen for anything and now he was given one of the greatest responsibilities: to help Mista prank Narancia.

Number Five gave a small mumble of affirmation and an enthusiastic nod of his head. All amidst happy tears. Mista gave him a piece of salami before cutting a little hole in the orange for Number Five to hide in. He carefully stuck the skin back over Number Five’s little hole, and placed the bait on the kitchen counter.

You sat at the table watching and waiting for everything to go down. Sure, you were the mastermind of this operation but you weren't foolish enough to get caught. You had to preserve your spot as everyone’s friend in the gang.

“Oi Narancia!” Mista called the boy playing video games in the other room.

“Yeah?”

“I just got some oranges, do you want one?” Mista was awful at hiding his plan. He was snickering so badly he had to cover his face with his hand. But those big brown eyes always gave his mischief away.

Luckily Narancia was too preoccupied with the thought of food to notice. He promptly paused his game, and strolled into the kitchen. You knew he would pull out the biggest and juiciest orange so you just waited.

He started to peel it, then paused when he heard a small whimper coming from the orange.

“Ow!” A brief look of confusion passed over Narancia’s face. He must have figured it wasn't real.

“It hurts!” There it was that little voice again. Narancia’s eyes shot open in confusion. He held the orange farther away from his body as he turned to Mista.

“Oranges don't have feelings, right?” Narancia was hesitant in asking his question.

“Well,” Mista paused trying to sell his character, “I did see this documentary that said plants can feel pain. Especially trees when they’re being cut down.” Narancia just stared at the little orange cupped in his hands.

“Please don't peel my skin! It hurts!!” This time Narancia was sure he heard a voice. While scared that his food was talking, it was pretty damn cool that he had made a scientific discovery. Narancia was so expressive, all of his thoughts played out on his face like a little show.

He sprinted away, hopefully to find Fugo.

Once he was gone, Mista keeled over you in a fit of laughter.

“Ya know babe,” Mista pulled you against him in a tight hug, “that was pretty brilliant.” He placed a gentle kiss on your lips and held you tight. At least until the other boys figured it out.

#Mista #Mista x reader #fugo #naranica #Guido Mista #narancia ghirga #panacotta fugo #hoetaro-kujo #my nonsense

81 notes · View notes

chasseurdeloup-retired · 4 years

Text

Into the Woods || Morgan and Kaden

TIMING: Last Sunday LOCATION: The woods PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: While the banshees scream, Morgan and Kaden try to distract themselves.

The woods were strangely eerie. Odd, he was used to them being comforting. They used to be; they used to be his home away from home. But more and more that feeling was being picked away. Maybe it was because Kaden was subconsciously listening for the sounds of screams in the distance. Maybe it was because the last time he was truly out here on a hunt was with Alain. His stomach dropped what felt like down to his toes. He had his knives on him as always, but part of him wished he didn’t. Even though he knew that would be stupid. It surely didn’t help that his current company was also somber. Oddly so. Of the two of them Morgan was the more talkative of the two normally. And yet, here he was, the one trying to make bullshit conversation on their attempt to distract themselves. “So. We’re pretending that nothing terrible is happening in the woods, what, a few miles away? At most?” Kaden sighed, kicking the dirt under his shoe across the path. “You okay?” he asked, turning to her. Well that was stupid. Neither of them were o-fucking-kay. “I mean you know. Given the whole, uh, everything.” He had a feeling Sundays felt heavier for Morgan than other days of the week. They didn’t make much difference to him one way or another. Every day was a day he didn’t see Regan and worried about what sort of training she was up to. Still, having the solidarity was nice. Or it would be. In theory.

“I took us in the opposite direction,” Morgan said flatly. She slashed her pruning knife through a bundle of purple thistle waving in the underbrush. Slashed again. “We aren’t going to run into anything we shouldn’t. Or, well, we aren’t going to run into the pain parade.” Morgan winced as she reached for her string to tie it off with the rest she’d gathered and set in her basket. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be… I like it, when we hang out like this, even when we feel awful. I’m just...having a hard time.” To put it mildly. Her last visit with Lydia still shook her to her core. She couldn’t tell anymore what was making her energy dip, being reminded of how much she’d lost because of Nell and Constance, the memories her body stored of floods and car accidents, and death, or knowing what Deirdre was being forced to do right now on account of Regan’s dad having been more in love with the denial game than she was. It was the worst game of roulette, where even the winning slot didn’t get you anything besides a need for therapy. “The universe is coming for me on all sides,and I don’t have enough of me to hold onto it all. I don’t even know how I’m going to get through the rest of today.” She stood up, dusted herself off, and shot Kaden a watery smile. “But uh, yeah, though, I’m okay,” she sing-songed. “How about you?”

Kaden wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. Some sick part of him wanted to wander upon it and see what was going on. See how truly terrible it was. He did know that in reality, it wasn’t what he wanted. Hell now that he had the freedom to ask what was going on with the training, really ask, he was too afraid to. Not that he knew where to start. So he simply hadn’t. For now, he waited for whatever Regan had to offer while knowing full well she wasn’t going to offer shit. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not like I’m great company either.” He had a feeling half the walk he was stuck in his own mind. Too many things were weighing on him. He wondered when he’d break, crumble under the burdens he was bearing for everyone else. Regan, Nadia, Alain, Blanche, Nell, Adam, Bea, hell even Morgan herself; he’d leanded his help to all of them. And he’d keep doing so without hesitation. But he was wondering when he was hurting more than helping, saying he could do things when it was possible he had nothing to offer. “I really understand. Wish I didn’t but I do.” Her chipper attempt at a reply made him roll his eyes. “Yeah, sure, alright. Me, too. I’m completely fucking fine.” He shoved his hands in his pockets before he found a bigger rock and kicked it away. Only slightly more satisfying than the last. Still a hollow victory, though. “I mean I’m the reason my friend is an amputee now and I haven’t seen my girlfriend in… has it been weeks now? But we’re fine.”

Morgan gave Kaden an apologetic look and squeezed the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m sorry. I’m just uh…” Not sure how to balance the honesty you can handle with the honesty that will get me murdered before I have a chance to call Deirdre and tell her I’m sorry. “We’re still kinda new at this whole honesty hour thing, I guess,” she said instead. “You wanna tell me more about your friend? Or ask one of those spooky questions you’re pretending not to think about? ‘Cause I’m all ears, no matter what.” She led them down to a patch of clover and settled down to cut as many as she could, gesturing for him to sit with her a while as she did.

“I guess,” Kaden said with a shrug. “I don’t know, you’ve forced me to share all my feelings and shit all the time. I think the entire time I’ve known you.” He still wasn’t sure why he answered her questions and indulged her in the first place. By now he knew it wasn’t worth fighting her on it and just letting it happen. Which is why he sighed and took a seat next to her. “I don’t know. I feel like you’re not going to like any of it.” She wasn’t exactly shy about telling him how much she hated the whole hunter shit. He found a rock nearby to lean against, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he did. “I don’t even know what to ask about what’s happening anymore. Now that I can know. Where the fuck do I even start? After all of you tell me how much it’s destroying everyone in-fucking-volved.” He thought about picking up a stick or rock nearby, but he didn’t want to uncross his arms, let his guard down. Best to stick with the other thing. “The other part though, uh, we fought a bugbear. Me and the other hunter. Apparently the bugbear was a criminal or a murder or some shit, I don’t know.” He didn’t look at her while he spoke, simply watched the branches across the way, watching as they moved with the breeze. “But I had a clear shot. And I hesitated. The other hunter jumped in to save my ass. And he lost his leg. And then I killed the fucking bugbear anyway.”

“I guess I should’ve clarified,” Morgan smirked. “I’m new at not having to fight you tooth and claw for honesty. Or for having things I don’t know how to talk about either.” She smiled sadly and started plucking stems. She listened to Kaden’s frustration, nodding along and watching the wrinkles in his face as he searched for the words for this. “It doesn’t sound to me like you did anything wrong on your hunt,” she said at last. “People hesitate. They doubt. That makes you human. And, you know, some people would argue that having qualms with killing someone, even an evil, bear-shaped someone, is a good thing. I’m sorry about your friend’s leg. But I imagine they were ready to do anything for you, in that moment. He doesn’t actually blame you, does he?”

“You have feelings you don’t know how to talk about? That’s new and different.” Kaden huffed out a laugh but it didn’t make the mood feel any lighter. He felt his fingers dig into his palm as he made his hand into a fist. She may not have had to fight him tooth and claw but he still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the whole thing. “I’m not supposed to hesitate,” he said before even absorbing the rest. “I can’t be out in the field if I’m going to hesitate or freeze up. It’s dangerous.” He didn’t have to explain that much, he hoped. He played with the pressure of his fist, clenching it tighter and then looser as he paused to try and take in the rest of what she said. “I don’t know if he blames me. I don’t know. I know I blame me.” He felt his throat getting tighter already. Supposed he should have anticipated that would happen at some point. “I don’t know. I think some of you are getting in my head. All I could see was Blanche’s old roommate.” He gave a shrug. “I tried to tell Regan why I hesitated and I-- I don’t know. I don’t think I can explain it.” At least not in a way he’d feel good about it. Which he didn’t know what to make of, either.

“Yeah, even insufferable zombies have their moments,” Morgan said. “And I figured you blame you, but that doesn’t mean you have to. You saw a person there, because they are a person. Even someone you have to kill because they’re out of control and malicious and there’s no other way.” She paused in her work to look at him fully, carefully. “What did Regan say? You could try to explain now. I know it’s...on a practical level, it’s risky, hesitating, but I don’t think it says anything bad about you, Kaden. I think you were just asked to do something incredibly difficult, and you acted the way people do. I know that’s not...super comforting. But, I’m trying to say you’re still a good person, that’s all.”

“I don’t think that makes it better,” Kaden said, voice tight. If that bugbear was a person, then that changed…. Well, it changed a lot. Too much. Enough that he didn’t want to touch or acknowledge. He could feel the crank holding back the flood gates was loosening. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to let it down, accept what it could mean for his life. Not now. Maybe not ever. “Regan just knows I killed a monster. Or, well, a dangerous unusual animal, as she calls it.” He shifted in his seat a bit. “And I mean, that’s true. It is. I mean he was. It was. I don’t--” He hated how much this complicated things. How far from simple hunting had gotten. He let out a deep exhale, trying to release some of the tension building in his chest. “She doesn’t know that bugbears or werewolves transform into, you know, more or less human. When-- And I don’t know how to tell her.” That wasn’t completely true. It would be as simple as trying. “I mean she wouldn’t believe me.” And if she did… He had a feeling it wouldn’t be good. But that didn’t mean it was wrong. It didn’t. Maybe it did. But if it was wrong then what was he supposed to do about it now? If he left that bugbear alive, he’d be dead, Alain would be dead, and countless future people would be dead. Somehow, something still felt wrong. “I don’t feel like a good person. And I feel like an even worse hunter.” And he wasn’t entirely sure what he had to offer if he wasn’t a good hunter. What else was there that he was qualified to do? His whole life had been dedicated to hunting. Without it, what was left?

Morgan knew that Kaden struggled with accepting the personhood of the people he hunted, but she didn’t understand why he wasn’t able to shoulder that gravity the way Deirdre did. And she couldn’t ask or draw the comparison, of course. Even if she wasn't bound to secrecy, telling him would sign Deirdre’s death over to him, and hers too. She couldn’t tell him that seeing people as objects, as prey, aligned him with Lydia and some of the more stomach-turning people she’d met in town. But Kaden wouldn’t appreciate that distinction either, and she didn’t dare endanger Lydia by speaking her name around a hunter. Turning all of these things over in her mind, Morgan bowed her head, shivering in spite of not being able to feel the cold. “You’re a good person, Kaden,” she said firmly. “And it speaks better of you, not worse, to recognize the humanity of the supernaturals you go after. Maybe Regan can’t make that distinction, but I can. Losing a sense of other people’s humanity scrapes away some of yours too, I think.” She sat thinking, no longer even moving her hands, but fixed on the growing dark around them. “Why isn’t being a good hunter something you can define for yourself?”

Kaden dug his fingernails into his palm, a familiar tick as of late. Holding in the emotions and holding back the flood gates, one small crescent shape at a time. He met her eyes when she reaffirmed what she said, hoping it might sink in. But it didn’t. It didn’t seep in. Because he knew he was on a ledge. If he teetered to either side, it would mean pain. He was doomed either way. If he rejected that the supernatural were people, it meant his girlfriend and his friends didn’t deserve to live. If he believed that they were…. He gripped his fists tighter and bit the inside of this lip. “It’s not that Regan can’t make the distinction, Morgan,” he said, voice tight and barely there. “It’s that I’m afraid she will. And if I--” He could feel himself shaking slightly but he forced himself to hold it in, hold steady the gates. “If I acknowledge that-- If we say that’s mu-- I mean that would mean that I’m--” He couldn’t even say it out loud. “I can’t--” He shook his head and braced his hands against the ground, forcing himself still and steady. “They have to be monsters. The things I’ve killed? They have to be that or I don’t know how to live with myself. I don’t know what would make me a good person if I was… that.” His fingers gripped the grass beneath them. This was supposed to be something to make him feel better, right? “I’m sorry, I can’t. I can’t be that.” He breathed in and out slowly, following the dumb breathing techniques he learned from Regan. “Being a hunter it’s-- I mean it’s what I was raised to do it’s all I-- I just, I need to keep people safe. I have to. You don’t-- I have to. And if I’m not doing that, what good am I? What kind of a person am--” Breathe. He had to breathe. Feel the ground under his hand and breathe.

Morgan set her foraging tools aside and crawled over to Kaden, close enough that she could reach out with her small hand and cup his cheek. “You have a kind heart, Kaden. And you wouldn’t intentionally do harm or spread hurt. You said it yourself. That counts for something, you know? And you are more than your duty. You’re a whole person, with so much more to offer the world than the ability to kill and destroy. Sometimes that’s exactly what we need. But it’s not always, and you shouldn’t treat yourself as a thing that’s broken when it doesn’t act with perfect coldness. You’re a person, and I think you owe it to yourself and the people you go after to see them as they are. It isn’t going to make you any less kind, any less worth caring about.”

The emotions Kaden was trying to hold in came spilling over when she came over to him. A sob choked out and he caught it, holding it back. It sounded nice. It sounded great and hopeful and wonderful. As nice an idea as that stupid charging rock built with love. He sure felt like an idiot for falling for that, for believing in it when he learned the truth. And he felt even stupider now than he did then. His lip wrabbled and he wanted to tell her to stop and scream at her that she was wrong. About something. He didn’t know what it was. But she had to be wrong about something. He was wrong about something, too. He wanted to push her away and run as much as he wanted to curl up and crumble. Instead he pulled himself in, hands still clinging tight to the dirt beneath them, his core and arms shaking slightly as he resisted the emotions that were overwhelming him. He attempted a nod, shaking his head, anything, but he felt like any conscious movement would crush him, all the weight of years just on the other side. “What does it mean?” he tried, eyes filling with tears a little more each word. “If I-- What does it mean for all the ones before?” He shut his eyes tight, pushed the feelings back down, bottled away somewhere, tried to. Monsters. They were just monsters. Someone had to be a monster.

Even in her anguished stupor, Morgan’s heart broke for Kaden. She moved closer, taking his face in both hands now. She could almost see the little boy he’d once been, scared and impressionable and wanting so badly to be good. Why was it that parents were so eager to twist their children’s desire to be good for them? Why were so many cruelties hidden away as ‘lessons’? Morgan didn’t know, but she hated it all, the whole complicated mess of it. But there was something she felt sure about, and she spoke it with gentle clarity. “It makes you someone who has had to make some very difficult decisions with reasons and intentions he wasn’t able to fully understand. And maybe some of the choices are regretful ones, some really bad mistakes, but not all of them. And it doesn’t make you bad or awful. Okay? What’s important is what you do now that you understand.”

Kaden couldn’t escape her gaze now, there was no way to look away and not let the words reach him, no way to pretend that she was saying something untrue or anything she didn’t mean. Part of him didn’t want her to forgive him or tell him it might be okay. But she did. Why was she being so nice to him? What the fuck did he do to earn anyone’s trust or anything is this town? Why did he care? It was so much easier when he just simply didn’t care. When the world was black and white and he wasn’t here in a forest with cold hands cupping his face, cold hands that felt more comforting and had more warmth than he could remember feeling in too long now. He could either melt or explode, that was all he could do because he couldn’t hold back everything anymore. He couldn’t carry the weight. A small nod was all he could give her before the emotions forced their way out, the tears broke past his lids no matter how hard he shut them, the sobs escaped his lips and he couldn’t bite it back. He wanted to collapse into the ground and stay there. He still couldn’t sort through this, couldn’t tell if he believed her fully or not, but he also couldn’t stop from feeling the tidal wave of emotions trying to wash him away.

Morgan pulled on Kaden until he sank into her arms. “It’s okay,” she said, squeezing him tight. “You’ll be okay, Kaden. What matters is right now, okay? You’re still a kind person, and a good friend.” She tried to get a better grip around his shoulders, to bundle him better against her body. “You weren’t taught to know these things, because it’s easier if you don’t. But you know now, and you’ll be okay…” she whispered.

Kaden didn’t know how long he let himself fall apart and how long he let her hold him. It felt like too long and not enough but he felt like he was drowning in all of it. Everything was just crushing him and pulling him under. The incident with Alain, his past, everything with Regan, his mother, Celeste, Ariana. He felt everything though, every nerve, raw and painful. “I’m sorry,” he croaked out, over and over. When he finally felt empty he sniffed and tried to collect himself, recovering from the mess he’d become. “Fuck. I’m sorry. We came here to be less fucking sad.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry to me for,” Morgan assured him, her voice faint and even as she comforted him. “You don’t have to be sorry. Don’t be. It’s okay.” She said it again for every apology he made, knowing that there would be another, because shame was terrible and predictable that way. When he started making more words than just that, she gave a breathless laugh and mussed his hair. “Sometimes things are just too sad, and the best you can hope for is being sad together with someone.” She sniffled and wiped the corners of her eyes, which had started to tear up. “And I think we’ve got that one down easy. Don’t feel bad for having a feeling.”

“Hey, not the hair,” Kaden said, batting her hand away gently, a small smile peeking through on his face. He took a moment to try and push some of his hair back where it belonged, probably pretty pointless by then. When his hands were free, he reached out to grip her shoulder a moment, just give them a squeeze and be done, but instead he paused and pulled her into another hug. He still wasn’t sure how to feel, he still wasn’t sure what it meant or if he knew the way forward. He wasn’t even sure if her words actually held comfort anymore or just offered him with more questions. What he did know was he had support, someone else who, maybe stupidly, believed in him. “Thanks,” he said as he let go of the hug. It was nice, not feeling alone, feeling like someone would try to catch him when he fell.

The thing was Kaden had that. He had that with Regan. Maybe not right that second but he did, and he knew that she would even if her world was falling apart. She’d proved that, she’d tired. And it struck him that was who he should be having this conversation with and the pit of weight dropped down onto him again. “I miss her,” he said softly, wiping away some of the tears that had pooled on his face before with his palm. “I saw her pretty much every day. I didn’t realize it. Until she was--” Gone. It had been a while. The last he’d seen her he was on the curb two meters away from her as they sat there and watched the sunrise. He talked to her online but it wasn’t the same. This was stupid. She wasn’t dead, she hadn’t even dumped him. Being away from her was hard but it was far from the worst of this. He let out a sigh as his mind wandered to why they were even there and what they had intended to avoid in the first place. Here he was drowning in emotions and somewhere else in the same woods, Regan was trying to cut hers away. “Right. Definitely a master of being sad together. Funny, I never thought I’d say this but at least we get to be sad.” His voice was hollower than he intended, but it was fitting given the subject.

A scab peeled off Morgan’s heart as she took in Kaden’s smile. There was that kid again, not in the juvenile, black-and-white judgemental asshat sort of way she’d hated when they first met, but in the way that Deirdre sometimes looked different, more herself, when she was watching the spiders feast or running with her through the cemeteries and stopping to admire a grave. Something pure and essential that went beyond the bulshit shoved down her throat. Something wonderful. It was like that, with Kaden’s smile. “It’s okay, Kaden,” she said.

The relief was short lived as he started talking about Regan, and what he was losing. Morgan’s gaze fell back to her butchered patch of clover, feeling guilty for the way she’d ‘helped’ the baby banshee move out once again. What did it mean that she’d barely been able to smile, or freak out at any of the stuff she’d done. Even the low-grade stuff. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That it’s like this. I think...I really do want it to be over soon. For her.” For all of them. If she could just get that stretch of time from Sunday to Tuesday and Wednesday back, when she could see Deirdre smile again, all the way up to her soft, autumn-brown eyes. Picking up the clover she’d picked, Morgan flashed Kaden a smile of her own. “Here’s to being sad.”

“Training like this. It…” Kaden sighed, truly hating the fact that he was giving Deirdre some credit, that was admitting to any similarities, even after their time in that stupid circle. “It took me years. It took Deirdre years. And I know we were kids but..” He shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bring us down again.” At least one of them was an optimist. If he was meant to hope and hold on and try desperately to be a lifevest when he was fairly certain he was drowning himself, he needed some help. And it likely meant any shred of hope he had was going to be saved for Regan. He rubbed his face again, trying to reset, and pushed his hair back. “Here’s to being sad. Remind me to bring some liquor out here next time.” Right. Putain. “At least for me. Sorry.”

“I didn’t realize you were aware of those common details between you. You wanna elaborate?” Morgan said. She couldn’t figure out who would have told. It definitely wasn’t her, as much as she burned to say it sometimes when they were being especially similar and obtuse, she could never bring herself to share something that would make Deirdre so vulnerable to some she knew she hated. Morgan had assumed Regan wasn’t up to mining Deirdre’s backstory either, or if it came up, that it wasn’t something she would see fit to share. Regan could be fastidiously thoughtful, even when she was being frosty, provided the thoughtfulness was turned into a rule. “And you’re okay, really.” Morgan dusted herself off and scanned their surroundings for hemlock. It had an unfortunate resemblance to Queen Anne’s Lace, which was frustratingly common around these parts. “Regan is stubbornly devoted. As long as we don’t fuck this up, maybe it’ll be okay. And maybe, you know, whenever ‘after’ happens, that’s how things turn out better for her. And she already loves you, I think that gives you a leg up, in the man v. banshee game. And don’t worry about me. My next dose of the good brain drugs is coming in a few days, and I’m just...not very up in general right now. You’re good, okay?”

“Hmm? Oh. Right.” Kaden almost thought that Deirdre might have shared the details of their time in the witch’s circle. Guess not. “We, uh, we got stuck in a magic circle. It was like some bullshit therapy session. I don’t know. It was stupid.” He instantly regretted telling any of this to Morgan. He could feel the laughter and questions about to rain on him. He sighed and figured he should stand up. Take a step or two again. Move on and continue forward from the discussion they just had. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to, but if she had more herbs to find, guess he’d have to. “I hope you’re right. About all of it. The after and the leg up. I don’t know.” He rubbed his arm and figured he should probably brush off some of the dirt and leaves from his pants. He kept wondering if all of it was enough. If he was enough. If there wasn’t that part of him that she’d find and decide she didn’t want him after all. His stomach churned thinking of everything he’d just confessed a few minutes ago. He sniffed and blinked away any tears threatening to break through again. “But, uh, that’s good. The brains. I guess. Is there something else? Other than, uh, this?” he asked. His brows were knit together as he searched her face for some sort of hint or answer. He had to wonder if it was something she couldn’t tell him. He hoped it wasn’t because she didn’t trust him.

Even from her sunken place, Morgan couldn’t help but snigger at the thought of Deirdre and Kaden in therapy...together. “Oh, that’s good. That’s amazing! Obviously I can’t pry for details, with confidentiality of course, but—oh, stars above, Kaden.” She beamed. “I’m happy for you two. You both definitely need it, and if you came out of it without stabbing each other, you must have found some kind of understanding in there.” She smirked again. “Does this mean you two could share a space without hurting each other for an hour?” She didn’t raise her voice above sarcasm, not daring to hope for even that much from the world right now, even those she cared about.

She wandered a little ahead of him, still looking for the hemlock. She didn’t enjoy lying to her friends and she didn’t like the sad puppy look on Kaden’s face, like he needed to be able to do something for her. He wouldn’t understand that he couldn’t offer her anything besides the murder of her friends, even if Lydia might deserve it. “Classified,” she said with a sad smile. “Fall is a hard time for me anyways. Constance’s curse usually took something away that mattered to me around this time, so there’s a lot of trauma stored inside this little corpse of mine. Apartments, cars, places, friends, my parents. It’s a whole thing. Kind of awful, since Samhain is my favorite holiday.” She shrugged, but there wasn’t much effort put into being convincing. When it came to dealing with loss, there didn’t seem to be much of a point to hiding it from Kaden.

Kaden immediately rolled his eyes at her response. Saw that coming a mile away. “Amazing’s not the fucking word I’d use for it.” Tedious, arduous, awful, all very good words for that experience. Amazing was not one. “You know if you still had your powers, I’d have half a mind to ask that it wasn’t you who set up that fucking circle. It seems like the kind of shit you’d pull.” Hell she seemingly tried to do it without magic now. And honestly, she might have some degree of success since Morgan was one of the few things Deirdre and he could manage to agree on. “Don’t get too excited. Wasn’t really a barrel of fucking laughs. Not until she--” Uh, right. Maybe he didn’t want to reveal to her how he fell flat on his face when the barrier fell away. “Never mind,” he added quickly.

There was a bird chirping overhead as she talked and it caught his eye. He didn’t need to watch her to know there was pain there. He could feel it. Even as blase as she was being. He understood. Sometimes you had to put up walls around loss or tuck it away for long enough to keep moving. “I’m sorry,” he said as he watched the bird take off and fly away, his eyes dropping back to her. It was unfair. All of it. Being cursed thanks to your family’s legacy. The puff of a laugh escaped his lips before he could stop it. Sounded familiar. “Maybe this will be the last season Constance can take anything from you.” He wasn’t sure if that was hopeful or still just as depressing. It almost sounded nice, though. “You know, I never did much to celebrate holidays, even when my parents were alive. It just wasn’t as important. So I can’t say I know much about Samhain. Not that I, uh, I would. I’m guessing it’s a witch thing. So. Yeah.”

“I would never do that to you two as a surprise. Not unless I knew some trick for making sure you literally couldn’t hurt each other even if you tried,” Morgan admitted. “Besides, that’s got to be some offshoot of mental magic, and I could never figure any of that stuff out. Not that you don’t make it tempting. When this all shakes out in however long, if we’re all still alive, it might be nice to have that picnic.” She couldn’t picture it no matter how hard she tried, but her dad had believed that speaking things into the universe would help teach it to make them so. “You have more in common than you realize, Kaden. Even down to rubbing people the wrong way on a first impression.”

Morgan held herself still and cold as she could at Kaden’s attempt at comfort. ‘As much as she could,’ didn’t amount to much, but she didn’t feel like crying in front of him, especially when she could only explain some of what she was feeling. “I’d really like that, if this could just be the end of it. If I never had to feel...so fucking broken because of her again… I don’t even know how to talk about half the things her curse did to me and my family. It’s kind of amazing it took me so long to realize her bullshit is what made my mother into such a nightmare. But that’s…” she shook her head. It was all she had to hold onto besides Deirdre, and she was going to take it, no matter how gathering the materials for ritual made her feel. Not doing it was still worse. “It’s whatever,” she mumbled. She dug deep into herself and tried to rally some of her usual bright energy into her spirit. “But Samhain is for everyone! Or it can be. It’s all about paying homage to the harvest of the year, and for the harvest of our forebearers. What we have that’s grown, what’s going to survive the coming darkness and death of winter. It’s about bracing yourself for the worse still to come with...love, stupid as I’m sure that sounds to you.”

“So that I couldn’t stab her? Don’t get me wrong. I was tempted. But the whole being turned into a zombie thing seemed less than appealing,” Kaden retorted. Not to mention, without Deirdre, who would Regan have to help her? Her grandmother, maybe, but something about even thinking about her sent a chill down his spine. Not that he had much reason to, he knew shit all about her or the circumstances. Then again, he’d seen that basement in Millinoket. He had to blink a moment at Morgan’s suggestion of a picnic with all four of them “Right. I’m the only one of the four of us who doesn't have centuries. Good luck waiting on that one.” It was meant to be a joke, but somehow it still stung a little in its own way. “I mean it’s hard to imagine all four of us in the same spot, all relatively okay.” Leave it to Morgan to remain hopeful despite the odds.

“I know you’re better at the feelings talk than I am, but I don’t think it’s whatever. Shit sucks.” Kaden reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze. He was pretty sure it wasn’t comforting or right. It wasn’t something he had a lot of experience with. He knew how to be around Regan. And Blanche. Sometimes Bea. And even then he was unsure of what was helpful, overbearing, incorrect. All he could do was try. “I mean it. If I can help. You just have to point me in the right direction.” He gave her shoulder one more squeeze before letting go. He knew actions weren’t weighted any more than words to her, at least not what he could gather. But they were to him. And it was all he knew to offer. So he’d try. It was what he could do. And he hoped she knew that. Still he had to laugh at what she said about Samhain. Bracing for the worst with love. “You’re right it does sound stupid,” he said, be he couldn’t help keep the smile off his face despite the sadness he still felt lingering. “But I have a feeling it’s the kind of shit I need a little more of. Maybe you can share a little more about it with me. We have plenty more sundays to go.”

“So you know about the lifespan, huh?” Morgan said, frowning sympathetically. “I don’t guess there’s anything to stretch lifespan out for hunters, is there? You’d think with all the cosmic public service and greater good talk you guys have, someone would have at least tried.” She frowned again, uncertain as to whether she sounded callous. “I’m sorry. I want you to be able to be here. I want you to stay with us. I want all of this to be okay in a few months, in a year. I don’t know, sometime. I feel like we should all get to have that so this feels worth it.”

Morgan almost cried at the whisper feeling of Kaden’s hand on her shoulder. “I wish I knew what the right direction was. Everything feels like it’s just...falling apart. The only thing that makes sense is… Okay, you have to confront violence with your morals all the time, so tell me this: is there anyone who ever hurt you so much that the only thing that makes sense is to get them back? How much hurt til it’s fair?” But she couldn’t imagine more hurt on her shoulders and bound in her body until this moment. How much hurt could someone else bear from another person? The destruction, the fear, the loss (and there was so much loss, every week that re-opened another wound reminded her just how much). Maybe it didn’t, couldn’t matter what Kaden thought. “Never mind,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to. I’m sorry… I do uh, I do think that it wouldn’t hurt you to lean into more love to get by. Maybe that’s how we try to find balance. Maybe that’s how we get to ‘after.’”

“I do. I mean, I know the general fae lifespan. So I figured.” Kaden gave a shrug, tried to brush off the hurt. It was stupid. He’d never get centuries even if it were possible. Ever. That wasn’t how hunting worked. “My lifespan has been stretched, Morgan. I’ve had more near death experiences than most people ever do. This is it. This is what I--” He felt his voice rising, anger rising up with it, and he wasn’t sure when his words choked him, what part made him stop. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know all this, hadn’t reckoned with it before. A long time ago. “Sorry. I-- Sorry. I would like us all to be around, too.” He was more and more reminded why he had only lived in pockets of time. It was all he was guaranteed. And even then.

He stood and listened to what she said. Took it all in. “Yes.” It wasn’t a hard question. Was there anything he hated so much he wanted revenge? Easily. “I don’t know about fair. I don’t think it’ll ever be fair. No matter what I do. No matter what anyone does. What’s lost can’t come back, it’ll never be fucking fair. But it can be over. I can make sure no one else suffers like this. That the hurt they cause is done. Forever.” If anyone understood the desire for revenge, it was him. It had dulled a bit after fifteen years, sure, but not much. “You’re right I don’t have to. But I’m offering. And you could be right. Just maybe.”

Morgan stared into the dark, knowing Kaden was right in more ways than she wanted to admit. Maybe it was just the steady creep of winter, or the wounds on her psyche blending her brain into mush, but seemed like even her anchors were shriveling up in her hands and slipping away. Ideas she had started to cling to weren’t worth as much as she’d thought. My friends will stay with me. Believe in me. Even her old standby, ‘tomorrow might be better,’ didn’t steady her the way it used to. She grimaced, holding herself against her pain and mumbled, “Fate’s a son of a bitch.” It was hard to believe her curse was lifted when every time she tried to push back on Constance, she lost whatever she cared about. It almost lent credence to Deirdre’s fae bullshit about a supernatural caste system, like all she could do was take shit for someone else’s baggage or get more for trying to do something about it. At least seeing things through her way would prove that her life wasn’t made to be anyone’s chew toy or snack pack. Not that anyone understood how the need to make any of this different ground against her sanity. No matter what she said, it never sank in beyond some ‘horrifying’ hypothetical. And, stars, sometimes it horrified her too, but she couldn’t turn her back on herself.

Then Kaden said yes. Morgan squinted at him in the twilight, wincing at the bittersweet rush of warm understanding that filled her. “Finished is one word, yeah. I thought we were finished before, but, you know, guess not. And I keep feeling like...I need to be the one who decides how it goes, for once. Even if it’s just to give her back even a fraction of the suffering she’s given me as she’s wiped off the earth. My terms, for once.” It was one of the few things that still made sense, that she felt remotely certain of. “I hope you get yours too,” she said. “Maybe it won’t take so long for you, at least, huh? Maybe we’ll get what we need and come out of this all shiny and happy.” She didn’t believe a word of what she was saying, but maybe it would happen anyway. Maybe.

#wickedswriting #Chatzy #morgan #morbeckmoreproblems #into the woods #writing

13 notes · View notes

vikingpoteto · 4 years

Text

Red Robin under the spotlight

Read on AO3

______________________

Relationships: GEN. Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake

Summary: Red Robin and Red hood are basically urban legends, no one is sure they're real. That is, until there is a picture of the two of them grinning at each other on Gotham Gazette's front page.

________________________

Tim Drake is having… a day.

Stuck in his office for the afternoon, he is praying for nightime to come soon so he can put on his suit and vent his frustration by beating up some unsuspecting criminal. He’d known being a CEO wasn’t particularly fun, but he didn’t expect the board of directors to be babies for so long.

He skims his proposal for what feels like the hundredth time unsure of how to make it clearer that that is the best course of action for their investments. The fact that he is only 18 should not trump his very solid, data-based arguments.

So he’s already in a bad mood and praying for a distraction when his office door swings open and Tam Fox storms in.

“Timothy!” she shouts.

He feels like he's about to learn he should be careful with what he wishes.

“Hey, Tam, I missed you too?” He tries.

Behind her, his secretary makes a helpless gesture as if trying to communicate she tried to stop Tam. Tim gives the woman a tired smile and makes a dismissive gesture.

Ignoring that, Tam slams the door closed and repeats for emphasis: “Timothy.” She pushes an iPad into Tim’s chest. “What is the meaning of this?”

Raising an eyebrow, he takes the iPad and looks at the screen, noticing he’s staring at a Gotham Gazette article and… Tim’s heart stops.

The headline screaming at his face says RED DYNAMIC DUO? by Vicki Vale and beneath it…

“Oh god,” Tim whimpers.

Beneath the headline there’s a picture of him and the Red Hood.

Or, well, Red Robin and Red Hood. They’re sitting on the fire escape of one of the abandoned buildings in Jason’s territory and both are seemingly at ease. Too at ease. There are two BatBurger bags at their side and their fingers are intertwined. Red Robin is staring at their joined hands with a wide smile. Fucking hell. Tim always makes a point of never smiling in front of anyone when he’s in his suit, he has a reputation to protect. He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that Red Hood isn’t wearing his helmet, because it emans his open grin is visible as well - and thank god Jason has the habit of wearing a domino under his helmet.

Who the hell took that picture? How the hell did they go unnoticed by both Tim and Jason?

He then starts reading the article, every word feeling like a punch to the gut.

Gotham City has seen its share of vigilantes over the years and, unlike public figures such as Superman, they prefer to keep to themselves, making many people wonder whether they’re even human. As a shot captured by an amateur photographer that chose to remain anonymous, we find out at least a pair of the many Gotham “heroes” are closer to us than we thought.

The vigilante known as Red Robin Gotham's patheon of heroes a couple of months ago and little is known about him. He’s been seen working with the likes of Batman, Robin and even Batgirl, making us all think he’s one of the good guys. It seems like Red Robin’s circle of friendships doesn’t include only Justice League members, though.

The Red Hood, the man so tenderly smiling at Red Robin, is a notorious mob boss whose territory's size, GCPD especulates, rivals Black Mask’s. Red Hood wanders between both criminal activities and a violent brand of justice and, while he's been seen working side-by-side with heroes like Nightwing, a hero that since has only been seen in Bludhaven, no one can claim to have seen the Red Hood so comfortable around one of the bats of Gotham

The two young men were pictured in a tender moment. Could this mean that Red Robin is straying towards villany? Is the Red Hood is considering changing his ways? Or, perhaps, are we facing a pair of starcrossed lovers, separated by different set of morals, but still unable to stay away from one another?

Tim makes an inhumane sound. The words star crossed lovers jump from the screen, burning his eyes and making him wish he was going over a dumb business proposal still.

“Well?” Tam demands. “What is that, Tim?”

“I don’t know, Tam,” he answers, his voice weak. “What on earth- How the hell… Oh, god .”

“Why were you hanging out with the Red Hood?”

“Stakeout,” Tim says simply.

“Why were you on a stakeout with the freaking Red Hood?”

At that, Tim recovers enough to feel a bit miffed. That’s the same tone she had last year when Tim was working with assassins and he gets offended on his brother’s behalf. Even if, you know, said brother had also been somewhat related to the assassins in question. In the past.

“Hey, Hood is not as bad as the news make him look. Sure, he’s not exactly clean, but he’s a valuable undercover agent and…”

Tam makes sounds of a woman whose white Valentino bag had liquid lipstick spilled in. “Does that mean you are dating the Red Hood?”

“What? NO!”

Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. God, what a mess.

“He’s my brother,” he says.

Tam looks like she goes through the 7 stages of grief in a very short time and, honestly, Tim feels for her. He likes Tam a lot. She is smart and strong and the poor girl has had to deal with so much since she and Tim became friends.

“Are you telling me… that Dick Grayson…”

“No, Dick’s not the Red Hood.”

She stares at the picture again and then at him. “This isn’t Duke or Damian, Tim.”

“You’re right. It’s a long story. I can’t tell you, though. I trust you but Hood’s identity isn’t my secret to share.”

Tam closes her eyes and breathes in and out slowly. After all the crap she had to deal as one of Red Robin’s friends, a stranged brother that happened to be a crime lord (an anti-hero, really) wasn’t that far fetched. She didn’t know much about the Drakes because Tim didn’t talked about them, so, for all she knows, Red Hood could be Jack’s or Janet’s bastard child. Although Tim can figure her theories, he doesn’t try to explain anything. Whatever she works out is better than letting her know Red Hood is Bruce Wayne’s son brought back from the dead.

“Fine. You’re not dating a criminal. You’re a criminal’s brother.”

“I mean… if you think about it, I’m a criminal too.” He smiles sheepishly under her glare. “Being a vigilante isn’t exactly something I can put on my resume.”

Shaking her head, Tam checks the picture again. “What were you even doing? Because it looks like you’re holding hands and finding it hilarious.”

“We… hm. We were thumb wrestling.”

She stares at him, her expression empty of any emotion. Tim cringes.

“Look, not everything is death traps and high risks, alright? Sometimes stakeouts get boring!”

“You were laughing your head off because you were having a thumb war with the Red Hood,” Tam deadpans.

“Hm. Actually the thumb war wasn't that funny, that was him cheating. I was winning so he kept talking shit about Dick’s past to make me laugh and lose focus.”

Tam finally sits down and she looks at ceiling as if she’s considering all the life decisions that lead her to this moment. At this point, Tim knows she’s just being dramatic, because knowing Red Hood cheats at thumb war for certain isn’t more shocking than the time she met Tim.

“The thumb was isn’t important now, though,” Tim says. “ This is a huge problem. Hood’s gonna be in hot water if people think he’s friends with a hero.”

He refuses to use the word lovers, because ew. Sure they’re not related by blood, but… ew. Tim sees him as a brother, damn it.

“Well, I’m afraid there’s not a lot we can do now,” Tam says apologetically. “The article’s been up since this morning. Even if we have them take it down, it’s already out there. #RedDynamicDuo is trending on Twitter.”

Oof. That’s… oof.

Tim intertwines his fingers and glares at the tablet in front of him as if waiting for the puzzle to solve itself. He knows it won’t, so it’s up to him to fix this. His burnt out brain suggests calling Bart and asking him to run back in time and stop that cursed thumb war. His practical brain has half a mind to call Oracle and see how much online evidence she can get rid of. He has to contact Gotham Gazette and threaten them into not putting vigilante’s identities at risk by posting such pictures, although he doesn’t hold high hopes for that course of action. What he needs now is a bigger scandal, although he fails to think of something more dramatic than Red Robin and Red Hood being buddies…

Right as he’s starting to feel a bit forlorn, his phone buzzes on the table. A picture of Dick smiling flashes on the screen and Tim allows himself to perk up for a moment. Dick for sure will be able to help him.

“Dick!” He picks up, full of hope.

Tim is greeted with cackling. Dick’s cackling.

He groans. “Richard.”

“AHAHAHAHA O-oh god, you… aha... b-baby bird, you… HAHAHAHA--”

Tim isn’t paid enough for this. He hangs up.

“Can you help me with this?” He asks.

“Don’t I always?” Tam quirks an eyebrow.

Smiling tiredly, he stands. “I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. Can you take care of… you know… day job stuff?”

“I guess. Good luck with your… your family thing.”

THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert: *insert game of thrones joke here*

In the hood: Go fuck yourself, Stephanie

spoiler alert: not judging u bro he hella cute

WonderWing: steph please

cassandra cain-wayne: ?

send me a Signal: they’re talking about that picture of Hood and Red holding hands cass

yumm: were NOT holding hands

cassandra cain-wayne: I print that picture.

In the hood: W H Y ! ?

cassandra cain-wayne: cute :)

spoiler alert: she right and she should say it

In the hood: Steph, turn on your location. I just want to talk.

yumm: stephanie I hv pics of u sleep drooling on me from that that 1 patrol dnt test me

spoiler alert: shut up red dynamic duo

Tim hates the internet.

Barbara is kindly trying her best to muffle the online reaction, but there is only so much she can do without outright deleting people’s tweets. Tim knows for a fact that that would only cause a bigger uproar, so he asks her to settle for burying mentions of them under a fake algorithm.

He has yet to think of gossip hot enough to top the rumors, but he doesn’t think even his fake engagement to Tam last year received so much attention. A glimpse into Gotham’s elusive heroes’ personal lives was too exciting to let go quickly.

When he walks into his apartment, he wants nothing but to take a hot shower and a nap. He knows he can’t, though.

As well as he knows he isn’t alone.

He plays it cool, walking in as though he doesn’t notice the person in the shadows. He drops his keys and phone on the nearest table as he would normally and turns around too abruptly to allow a reaction, his fist connecting to… someone’s palm.

“Nice reflexes, Baby Bird,” Jason says, quirking an eyebrow as though mildly impressed.

Tim groans. “Would it kill you to use the door?”

“It might, better not risk it.”

“It shaves five years of my life span every time I come home and you’re waiting in the shadows. Of all of Bruce’s habits to pick up…”

Jason simply shrugs. “So… what’s up, honey? ”

“Ew, don’t say that,” Tim groans.

Keeping his nonchalant facade, Jason lets himself fall into Tim’s couch as though he belongs there. Tim heads to his room to change into more humane clothes.

“I’m assuming Dickie shared the news already,” Jason says.

“He couldn’t stop laughing long enough to say anything,” Tim replies from his closet. “Tam was kind enough to show me, though.”

“Tam… is that your ex-fiancée? Hmm… The news sure keep shipping you with everyone, speaking of which.”

Grumbling the whole time, Tim puts on a purple hoodie he might or might not have stolen from Stephanie and that he wears whenever he’s stressed. He wears that hoodie a lot. Heading back to the living room barefoot and feeling slightly more prepared to deal with the situation, he says:

“I’m assuming you aren’t here just to hang out.”

Jason gives him an unimpressed look. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Tim blinks once. Twice. No, it can’t be that… “ Everyone thinks you’re a rat.”

“Bingo.”

And this situation keeps getting better and better. Red Hood is feared enough that he can get away with hanging out with the goody two shoes every now and again and keep his rep. Being caught eating burgers and giggling with a hero was a whole new animal.

They have to assume Hood’s safe houses were compromised as well. The point of having many hideouts is that you’re never left with nowhere to go, but even Jason wasn’t prepared to have everyone in his territory turn on him. That and they all had been raised and trained to be paranoid. It was too big of a risk to assume he’d be safe in a known place.

“Crap,” Tim mutters.

“I considered ditching Gotham and spending some time with Roy instead…”

“But that would be as good as a confession. You’d never gain their respect again,” Tim completes for him.

Jason nods.

The only silver-lining about this situation is that this is Jason. Granted he isn’t too angry to think, Jason is practical and willing to do what’s needed, even if it’s annoying or if it makes him uncomfortable. Tim likes working with him because of that.

“You know where the extra blankets are,” Tim says.

Because, of course, if Jason can’t be at his own place and he can’t be with Roy and Kory, he’d crash Tim’s place. The manor isn’t really an option for him and Tim doesn’t blame him for that.

“The plan of action?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I figure out.”

Jason sighs. “I’m going to punch something in your Red Robin cave.”

“Be my guest.”

Damage control is necessary, of course, especially for Red Hood’s safety, but there is something bothering Tim more. He opens the news and studies the picture. It’s a damn good shot, almost looks like it was staged. He closes his eyes and tries to remember that night. In order to take that picture, the photographer would have to be in of of the buildings across the street and they’d have to be good enough to go unnoticed not by one, but by two highly trained vigilantes, one of which had his senses enhanced by the Lazarus pit.

He messages Babs quickly for more info on whoever sent those pictures to the news, but not even Oracle had managed to track them yet. It sounds like the photographer walked into Vicki Vale on the street and handed her the picture, because there was no digital footprint of such interaction.

Without any more ideas, he puts on his suit and heads out, glad that is patrol night. Perhaps punching criminals will give him some clarity.

Tim is nowhere near closing any of his cases and Gotham is unusually quiet because of course the criminals would choose tonight of all nights to be chill. The night Tim needs a crime. That’s why he’s more than a little thankful when a crackling sound in his comm lets him know someone’s trying to send him a message.

“Hey, hot stuff,” a familiar voice calls, “I have an underground gambling den to dismantle tonight, you want in?”

Red Robin smiles. “Is that a date?”

“I don’t know, is it? I don’t want Red Hood coming after me.”

“Batgirl.”

She laughs shamelessly. He hopes Barbara isn’t listening. Although the alternative would be Wendy listening, and he doesn’t know which one would be worse. Steph’s sense of humor isn’t for everyone and while, Tim doesn’t mind their inside jokes and got used to her eternal flirting, he feels as though those should remain between the two of them only.

“I’m serious, though,” Steph continues. “I don’t think backup is needed per se, but I miss fighting criminals with you. Plus I figured you could use a punching bag or two.”

He grins. He just really loves Steph.

“Send me the details. I’ll meet you there.”

Turns out it’s a pretty standard burst for them. Gambling den covering a massive drug operation, because this is Gotham. Why wouldn’t they use an illegal thing to cover another more illegal thing? That sounded like a great idea.

He finds Batgirl waiting for him on top of a building. She simply smiles and points at the shady alley down the street.

“Gentlemen first?” she offers.

“It’s your case.”

With a nod, she dives towards the ground and Red Robin follows her closely, frowning in confusion when she doesn’t dropkicks any windows. Instead, she casually strolls towards the back of the alley where a suspicious metal door that could easily go unnoticed if it didn’t scream CRIMINAL ACTIVITY HERE. Batgirl knocks at the door and gestures at Red Robin to stay away.

A slit on the door slides open and a confused crook tries unsuccessfully to see who’s there. With both vigilantes’ out of his line of sight, the poor bastard has no option other than opening the door to check. Batgirl swiftly pulls him into a headlock as soon as he walks into view and Red Robin’s grinning face is the last thing the man sees before the pressured applied makes him pass out.

Red Robin doesn’t figure what Steph’s plan is until she cuffs the unconscious bouncer and stands straight, offering her arm.

“You’re so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes, even as he takes it.

“Shush, you think I’m awesome.”

That he does. Especially when the two of them climb down into the basement turned illegal cassino with their arms locked as if they’re a couple. It’s cartoonishly comic how long it takes everyone to realize Red Robin and Batgirl are standing on the entrance, looking around at the 50 different illegal activities happening at once.

Not as comic as when Batgirl shouts over the music: “Please, don’t stop on our account!”

The gamblers sober enough to freeze in horror.

“Before we start, anyone wants to just give themselves in?” Red Robin offers.

That’s when guns start firing and all hell breaks loose.

The night ends, as it would, with Batgirl and Red Robin walking home a trio of strippers. The women weren’t to blame that their work environment was less than ideal and they certainly didn’t need to be left tied up waiting for the GCPD like the mobsters Steph and Tim beat up tonight.

Red Robin wanted to just watch them from the top ot the buildings and make sure they got home safe, but Batgirl insisted they walked alongside the women. Their costumes don’t look completely out of place near them and Red Robin doesn’t know what to think of that.

For a second, he thinks he hears someone behind them. Everytime he turns around, he finds nothing but an empty alley, so he shrugs if off as him getting hit tooo many times.

While Batgirl excitedly chats with two of the women about their future employment - one of them is in this line of work just to get by, the other genuinely enjoys sensual dancing as a form of art but wishes she could work somewhere better - when the third of them discreetly detaches herself from the group to walk closer to Red Robin.

She still looks tense and guarded, her arms tightly wrapped around herself and Tim wishes he had a jacket to offer her. The way she sideeyes him says she wants to say something, but is too nervous to start. Not wanting to betray his persona, he simply waits, trying to appear as non threatening as possible.

“Thanks a lot for savin’ us, Red Robin,” the woman says finally. “I can’t believe I’m meetin’ ya.”

He gives her a small smile. “I’m just glad you’re safe, ma’am, there’s no need to thank me.”

“I just wanted ta say… I get ya.”

Red Robin tilts his head to the side. “Ma’am?”

“The thing with your man. Must ta’ be hard dating the Red Hood. I know how it is.”

He was… He was getting sympathy from a stripper with bad taste in men.

“There’s nothing gross between Hood and I!” He lets out before he can help himself, his voice a little louder than intended.

The other women startle at his outburst and turn to him, wary. One of them reaches for what is clearly a pocket knife that she thinks is cleverly hidden in her bra.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, ma’am, just… Batgirl, I believe you’ve got things from here. I’m taking off.”

She gives him a concerned look, but ultimately nods. Under Batgirl’s and the three strippers perplexed glares, Red Robin grapples his way out of there.

Tim wakes up around noon feeling as though he was hit by a truck, as he does when he sleeps longer than three hours a night. He slowly sits up and looks around his messy room, wondering how come he’s feeling so miserable. The smell of food stirs him into some sort of alertness.

Right. He’s not home alone today.

Yawning and scratching his belly, he forces himself to get out of bed. He know that the longer he stays the more likely he is to slip into a coma, his body demanding compensation for years of sleep deprivation. Tim drags his feet towards his kitchen where he finds one of Gotham’s most dangerous vigilantes humming to himself as he makes breakfast. Or Lunch. Brunch. Whatever.

“And here I thought I was the family’s zombie,” Jason says in lieu of good morning.

Tim grumbles something about his brother being too comfortable in Tim’s kitchen, but he doesn’t dare complain. Jason is probably the only person that uses Tim’s stove and one of the perks of having him over is that he does cook. A lot.

The one disadvantage about having Jason over is…

A knife lodges itself on the counter in front of Tim when he tries to reach for the coffee pot. Tim didn’t even see him throwing it. He glares at his brother.

“Food first. Coffee after,” Jason says.

“I’m too nauseous to eat, I just woke up.”

Again without breaking eye contact with the pot he’s stirring, Jason blindly reaches for a package of crackers casually left on the counter and hands it to Tim.

Tim makes sure to give him his best rebellious teenager glare before grabbing the stupid crackers and sitting down to eat them. Stupid Jason with his stupid boredom. Tim had forgotten Jason goes into full mom mode when he has nothing else to do and that he’s particularly obnoxious about Tim’s eating habits.

“I consume the necessary calories,” Tim mumbles over his cracker.

“Okay, Damian.”

Tim throws a cracker at him. Jason easily dodges without looking, which is kind of annoying.

After that, the two brothers fall into comfortable silence. Tim knows Jason wants to talk about their plan of action, but he knows Tim is nowhere near awake enough to hold a conversation. Besides, Jason doesn’t like being bothered while he’s cooking anyway.

By the time the food is ready, the crackers worked their magic and Tim no longer feels as though his stomach is ready to puke out its emptiness. He grabs dishes he hadn’t used in quite a while and sets the table for the two of them. The brothers start eating in silence, Tim slowly recovering his sense of self - no wonder he goes for so long without sleeping, he takes too long to reboot when he does - and Jason mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

Then something on the small screen makes Jason choke on his food.

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Hm… Timmy, you may wanna take a look at this.”

“What?” Tim takes Jason’s phone. “Oh, for fuck’s sake !”

It’s another news article. The picture is fortunately less detailed, just a red and black silhouette against Gotham’s sky that may or may not be Red Robin standing over one of the many gargoyles. The text, however.

RED ROBIN MAKES HOMOPHOBIC REMARK AND SHOCKS ADMIRER

Gotham’s newest vigilante busted an underground gambling den last night. Despite his heroic deed, his words after the fact were less than commendable. When questioned about his relationship with the Red Hood by one of the women he rescued, the hero allegedly said that there’s “Nothing gross between him and Hood.”

“Personally, I was shocked,” said the woman in question, Krystal Math, 25 years old. “Red Robin became my favorite hero when I heard he also has a dead-beat boyfriend. I was starting to finally see myself in one of those bats, you know? I couldn’t believe when he said being gay is gross. Never meet your heroes, I guess.”

THE BIRDNEST

WonderWing sent a screenshot.

WonderWing: red robin is cancelled for homophobia, pass it on

Robin: Good. It’s about time we rid ourselves of him.

Cassandra Cain: Little brother does not approve gay rights? :(

yumm: im literally bisexual

spoiler alert: he avoiding the question

in the hood: #redrobinisoverparty

yumm: I hate this fucking family

Tim hasn’t stopped pacing around the room since he read the most recent article. Those were his exact words by the letter, meaning someone had been listening. He doubts Krystal, bless her heart, was the one going to the news with his “homophobic remark”.

Having basically given up on getting Tim to calm down, Jason is the one to get the porch door open for Steph. Because apparently she’s been learning from Jason and acquired his hatred for front doors. Steph knows how Tim gets, so she promptly ignores him and gets comfortable on the reading chair to check the article fully.

“This is nuts,” Steph says. “We were being careful. I made sure of it.”

Tim believes her. Batman and Robin are basically public figures at this point, even if they don’t interact with civilians if they can help it. Red Robin and the Signal were heard of and spotted around the city, but not a lot of people really know of them. Red Hood was basically a urban legend until recently and Black Bat sill is. Batgirl, however, is known for being a people hero.

She was, back in Barbara’s time, stopped for a bit with Cass, but Steph embraced the old tradition whole heartedly. She would walk people home late at night to make sure they were safe, wave at little girls in the bus, talk to kidnapping victims until they were under heavy blankets handed by the police. Steph was extroverted and charming and she used that fully as Batgirl like she never could as Spoiler. That being said, she and Barbara always made a point to avoid pictures, security cameras and whatnot. If there was a hero good at hanging with civilians while unnoticed by the media, that hero was Stephanie Brown.

Tim’s phone is buzzing. He ignores it in favor of stomping around some more.

“Well, something must have slipped your watchful eye,” Jason says, shrugging.

Steph glares at him. “Mine, perhaps, but are you implying someone went unnoticed by Oracle?”

“Well, someone obviously did,” Tim snaps, tossing his phone at the couch in frustration. “What happened after I left, Steph?”

“Nothing,” she says honestly. “I walked the ladies home. Krystal was a bit miffed but she didn’t say anything, so I thought she was just a shipper upset that her OTP wasn’t canon.”

“You think she went to the news after?” Jason suggests.

Steph frowns. “Why would she? She didn’t look like she had media connections exactly.”

Tim’s phone, that bounced off the couch and fell with a soft thud on the carpet, continues to explode with texts. He sighs and stops to pick it up and finally answer them.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Jason argues. Then turns to Tim: “You should look into her. I’m gonna check other possible sources.”

“Hm-hum, just a second,” Tim mumbles, typing furiously. “Damian is being a nightmare and asking for help on a case.”

“Wack. Are you telling him to solve his own cases instead of using your intell to impress Bruce?”

Tim glares at Jason.

“Really? C’mon, Timmy, we’ve been over this.”

Stephanie gives them a puzzled look. “You’ve been over… Dami being a nightmare?”

“Jason says that whenever someone is mean to me I should reply by attacking them where hurts the most,” Tim explains.

“He knows all of our weaknesses and he has the quickest thinking,” Jason says, frustrated. “The least he should do is stand up for himself with that knowledge!”

"Kinda rich coming from the guy that tried to kill him," Steph says, quirking an eyebrow.

"Steph," Tim scowls. "He didn't know me then and the pit rage--"

"Timmy," Jason cuts him off.

Tim sighs. "Besides now I could off him in 20 different ways if he tried any of that shit again. There. Happy, Jason?"

"That's my baby brother."

Steph smiles at him. “You know what? You’re onto something, Jaybird.”

Tim interrupts his walk of worry again to smile a bit. Something about Stephanie and Jason agreeing on something is immensely satisfying.

Still, on the matter at hand, Tim says, “If I go off on Damian, Dick’s gonna get mad…”

“Then go off on Dick as well,” Steph promptly suggests.

Jason high-fives her. “Atta girl. Besides if Dick doesn’t want us to tell Damian to fuck off he has to work harder on teaching him not to be a little shit. Everyone here has a tragic backstory here and we all know Damian goes too far sometimes.”

Tim shakes his head again. “Regardless, Damian’s case will have to wait. We’re gonna go with your plan, Jay. And Steph…”

“Wow, no way, José. I’m just here as an eyewitness. I don’t want to get involved with homophobes and end up shipped with Jason or some shit.”

Tim glares at her. “I was going to offer you some of our leftovers, but since you’re not interested, that’s fine.”

While Jason laughs and Steph protests, he proceeds to look for his laptop, hoping this isn’t going to be a dead end.

“This is a dead end,” Tim declares.

From what he can find, Krystal wasn’t even paid for her impromptu interview. Apparently Vicki Vale showed up at her place to confirm the veracity of a story that she heard God knows where.

Dick is in Bludhaven, but he insisted on facetiming them when he realized his brothers were struggling, even if he mostly just made worried faces from Tim’s phone as Tim, Jason and Steph exchanged notes. As a rule of thumb, Tim doesn’t involve his siblings in his cases since he became Red Robin, but this is definitely an all hands on deck situation. Tim isn’t desperate enough to get Bruce involved, but he’s getting there. Especially when Dick says:

“Babs couldn’t find anything in Vicki’s email or phone. She’s double checking all of Vicki's sources, but so far it’s been no good.”

“We could always get Vale and hang her by the ankles on top of some building until she talks,” Jason suggests. "Let's go old school on her."

Everyone ignores Jason. Tim stands for another mug of coffee. Dick lets out a frustrated sigh. Steph keeps watching all of them from the couch, where she’s been lying down and tossing gummy bears into her mouth for the past half-hour.

When no one acknowledges him, Jason sighs and stands. “Alright, this’ been fun. I’m going to patrol.”

Dick frowns. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“He can’t vanish,” Steph says. “One thing is crashing Tim’s place to make sure he won’t get ambushed in his down time. If Red Hood goes AWOL he might as well admit he’s working with the Batclan.”

Jason nods. “If I don’t do my job, next thing I know Black Mask takes over my stuff.”

“Can’t have Black Mask taking over his stuff,” Steph agrees.

Dick glances at Tim as though expecting him to disagree with the plan. Tim lets out a defeated sigh. “He’s right. Just… make sure to find a safe place to change into your gear so no one sees you. If there are any safe places, that is…”

Jason rolls his eyes. Tim knows he’s going full Robbie Downer mode, as Jason likes to call it, but he can’t help it. It’s not often that he finds himself without any ideas. He should have been able to solve this already. Since nothing comes to mind, he starts imagining unrealistic scenarios in hopes that they’ll give him some insight outside of the box. AU in which I was never shipped with my brother by some nosey reporter. AU in which I went out Damian instead of Jason that night.

Tim groans in frustration. “Why did it have to be Jason? We could get away with me having a thumb war with literally anyone. If it was Batman out there, this wouldn’t be that much of a problem.”

“Maybe if you hung out with all your brothers and not just Jason there wouldn’t be as many rumors about you and Red Hood,” Dick mumbles.

Tim glares at the phone.

“Really? You wanna go there? You wanna talk favoritism, Richard? Because you’ve been favoring Damian for-freaking-ever.”

“Drag him!” Jason cheers.

“Tim,” Dick says, looking genuinely upset, “I love all-”

“Save it,” Steph cuts in. “We all have favorites Dick, there is no use denying it.”

Because Dick’s eyebrows are knitted in confusion, Tim clarifies: “Bruce’s favorite is Cass, yours is Damian, Jason’s is… I don’t know, his guns. Steph is my favorite, unfortunately. Steph’s favorite is Cass, Cass’ favorite is Duke, Duke doesn’t have favorites, he’s the only good person in this family, and Damian’s is also you.”

Steph nods. “You did it! You broke the Bat Family dynamics to its bare essentials!”

“And that is why Tim is my favorite. After my guns,” Jason adds.

“Jason, we do not rate our siblings.”

“That’s why you’re in last place, Dick.”

Ignoring Dick’s enraged noises, Tim sets his mug aside. “I’m going patrolling, even if today isn't my turn. Solo this time. Hopefully Red Hood and Red Robin being separate out there will help the rumors die down a bit.”

No one has a better idea - Tim’s least favorite sentence - so that’s what they do.

It’s another infuriatingly quiet night.

Red Robin stops a couple of muggings, scares the crap out of some drug dealers. At some point, he considers contacting Poison Ivy and asking if she has any corrupt CEO she wants help with. He could, you know. It’d stop Ivy from killing someone and on his last run with Harley Quinn she did let slip that Tim was Ivy’s favorite Robin.

He almost falls mid swing at the memory, thinking he might be onto something, but then he remembers Harley hadn’t particularly recognized Red Robin as the third Robin. She was just ranting about how the new tiny Robin had no sense of humor and Ivy missed the last one. Besides of course Harley Quinn wasn’t feeding Vicki Vale some BatFanfic. Tim’s brain must be really burnt out if that’s the best hot take it can come up with.

It’s almost 3am and he’s taking a pair of muggers that can’t be much older than Tim to the police. He’s about ready to call if a night when someone shouts:

“Red Robin!”

He looks on instinct and his stomach drops when he sees Vicki Vale running towards him. Crap.

“Red Robin, can I get a statement?”

He keeps walking. He’s just one dirty alley away from GCPD, otherwise he’d just tie the stupid muggers to his back and would use his grappling hook to get out of the situation, grapple safety be damned. The muggers gingerly attempt to hide their faces as the reporter runs to them swinging a digital recorder. Vicki acts as though she can’t see them.

“Red Robin, what do you have to say about the rumors of your relationship with the Red Hood?”

The rumors you created? Red Robin quickens his pace and the muggers trip over themselves. He stares straight ahead, pretending he doesn’t notice the woman basically running in heels to keep up with him.

“Are you ashamed of it? Is it because he’s a criminal or because he’s a man?”

Red Robin wonders if the muggers would walk the rest of the way and turn themselves in if he asked nicely.

“Don’t bother, lady,” one of the muggers says. “He’s a nasty bigot.”

The other mugger nods and the two of them are wearing matching pouty expressions. Now Tim just feels bad. He didn’t become a hero for the recognition and he’s not in the business of doing PSAs like Superman, but he doesn’t want the strange socially woke criminal youth of Gotham to think they’re being arrested by a homophobe.

“I have no problem with two men in a relationship, I’m bisexual,” he tells the muggers. “Still, I’m not dating Red Hood. Just because I’m bi it doesn’t mean I’m dating every male vigilante I run into.”

At that, the two crooks look mildly surprised and suddenly they seem to feel a bit better about being arrested. Would you look at that.

Red Robin delivers them to the police, painfully aware that Vicki Vale is nowhere to be found anymore. He feels like he’s going to pay dearly for being too prideful to let himself be mistaken for a heterosexual person.

Lo and behold, Twitter, on that very same morning.

@Gotham_Gazette:

Red Robin hints that he might be bisexual. “No, I’m not dating the Red Hood, just because I’m bi it doesn’t mean I’m dating every male vigilante,” said the hero on the rumors about his relationship.

@dgraysonman hints??? he literally said he’s bi smh

@stephssss wow only the male vigilantes? biphobic. let red robin date batgirl too

@babsgeez be gay do crime, be bi serve justice

@thomascommaduke no cops at pride, only Red Robin using a bi flag as cape.

“Timmy…” Jason starts.

“Don’t. Just leave me alone to die.”

“That’s fair, have a nice day.”

At this point, Tim is surprised Bruce hasn’t intervened. As unaware of social media as Bruce can be, he’s always on the look for anything that might compromise their secret identities. Tim pulls two all-nighters in a row doing detective work and still makes no progress on his search for the person that sent Vicki that picture and overheard his conversation with Krystal. He fully expects Batman to jump him on his next patrol and give him a lecture.

When he comments that to Jason, he gets a confused look in response.

“You didn’t get a lecture? Bruce was the one that told me first. I had to hear about being careless for 20 minutes before I got home and could take off my comm.”

Tim frowns in confusion. Bruce had talked to him once or twice after the news got out and he didn’t comment anything on it.

“That’s Batman’s psychological profiling,” someone suggests.

Tim almost jumps out of his skin when Steph casually walks into the living room with a bowl of chips.

“What are you doing here? And are those my clothes?”

Steph shrugs in the sweater that clearly doesn’t belong to her. “Jason and I are doing movie night.”

“Movie night,” Jason mocks. “She’s been here for the past two days. Did you seriously not notice, Tim?”

Tim’s jaw drops.

Steph sighs and her expression turns guilty. “Fine. My mom is out of town for the week and Jason is a better cook than I am. Is it a crime to bum off your ex-boyfriend and his bizarrely talented in the kitchen brother?”

Before Tim can say anything, Jason interrupts: “What were you saying about Batman, Steph?”

She heads to the couch and starts looking for the remote, her feet propped on the coffee table. “B knows Jay will just shrug it off and deal with the consequences, hence the need of a lecture. If he annoys Jason, he’ll stop and reflect on it, even if out of rage. He knows Tim’s already overthinking and working his butt off to fix it, so he doesn’t want to add any pressure.”

Both Jason and Tim stand in dumbfounded silence. Since when does Steph know Bruce so well?

She raises her gaze when the quietness stretches and quirks an eyebrow at them. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Hm. No. That’s pretty much what we’ve been doing,” Jason admits, if a big begrudgingly. “That’s annoying though.”

Steph simply makes a dismissive gesture and pats the sit beside her. “Tim, you need a break. Wanna join us?”

Tim hesitates. On one hand, the fact that Bruce trusts him that much is a tad touching… and knowing it makes him feel he has to solve this as soon as possible. On another… it’s kind of annoying that Bruce knows him so well and yet doesn’t think about offering any assistance. Tim is not stubborn enough to refuse a helping hand when he’s on a pinch.

“You’re not going to solve anything if you’re hallucinating from sleep deprivation, Timbers,” Jason points. “Besides we’re watching Avatar.”

“Fine,” Tim says.

If for nothing else, just to prove to Bruce that he’s not an overworker and he can slack off in the absence of a parental figure.

Tim falls asleep in the middle of the second episode. Steph and Jason vow to take him to bed once they’re sure he’s completely out, but they only last until the end of the first season. The three sleep soundly on the couch for good eight hours and regret dearly when they wake up with necks too sore to fight crime for at least a day.

Consequences. They always come.

Almost a week goes by in which the rumors are but an annoyance to Jason and a source of stress to Tim - but almost anything can stress Tim if he tries hard enough, so that’s not saying anything. Jason is still staying at Tim’s, but he’s considering going back to his own place when they go for three days with no new article and nothing unusual has happened.

Until it does.

It’ a rainy night Tim is going over reports for the next WE meeting when he hears a noise coming from the balcony. His stomach gives a familiar twist when he recognizes Batgirl hunched over the weight of one Red Hood.

He rushes to her aid, already feeling nauseous. There’s no blood in sight but whatever happened must be serious if Jason is willing to let Batgirl give him a piggyback ride. Tim lets them drip water all over the floor and, in his panic, has half a mind to appreciate that Batgirl’s boots have enough traction that she doesn’t slip.

“What on Earth…”

“The most ridiculous thing,” Steph bables as she and Tim drag a very dizzy Jason to the couch. She then starts ranting so fast Bart Allen would be proud. “He was doing his thing as usual, but some of his people turned on him and there was an ambush and so many flipping people against one poor Hood and good god that guy shot his helmet at point-blank which, damn , that was so stupid, of course the freaking helmet is bullet proof, it just ricocheted and…”

“Steph, calm down,” Tim interrupts. “Jason, can you report?”

When he gingerly attempts to take off his helmet, Steph takes over and undoes the safety measures before carefully removing it. There is a dent on the back part where he had been presumably shot.

“Hm,” Jason grunts, squinting even behind his domino mask. “Ambush. Shot. Concussion. Very concussion. Ankle hurts? Prolly not broken, tho. Also stabbed?”

Tim nods. “Steph, get the medical supplies. Where’s the stab wound, Jay?”

Jason points to his thigh and there is an improvised bandage keeping him from losing too much blood. Considering how well done it is, Tim figures it’s Steph’s work. He nods and starts checking his brother’s vitals and making sure there aren’t other serious wounds.

When she comes back with the supplies Tim needs, Steph has her cowl down and a somber expression. She turns off the lights for Jason’s sake, the only source of light left on being the lamp near where Tim is already ripping off a piece of Jason’s pants to have better access to his wound. Steph sits by Jason’s side and grabs his hand, much to Tim’s surprise. He’s too busy taking care of the stab wound to ask, but he doesn’t have to. Steph breaks the silence:

“I’m so sorry, Jason.”

Jason gives her a confused look. “You saved my ass?”

“Yes, but…” Steph sighs and turns to Tim. “Babs is with the Birds of Prey tonight, so I was on my own. I was messing around with my comm frequency when I accidentally got into Jason’s. I heard the mess and it sounded like he was in trouble so I panicked. I went to get him and… Well, if there was any doubt that he’s working with the Bats, there isn’t now. It was too obvious that I was protecting him.”

Jason squeezes her hand. “Hm. Pigs.”

“Right. Then the police arrived and instead of leaving right away I stopped to make sure Jason wasn’t bleeding to death. More than a few cops saw me patching him up.”

Tim sighs. Well, shit.

“It’s not your fault, Steph,” Tim says. “I mean… he literally wears a bat on his chest. People were bound to find out it isn’t just to stick it to Batman.”

“Is too,” Jason mumbles.

Tim ignores him. “The situation isn’t ideal, but we all prefer people knowing Red Hood is associated with the Bats than him being dead.”

“I died before.”

“We know, Jay.”

“Do not recommend.”

“We know, Jay.”

Steph fidgets a bit, still looking guilty, but ultimately nods. Tim is about to start stitching Jason’s wound closed when she says: “There’s more. You, hm, you know Renee Montoya?”

“The one valid pig,” Jason says. “I like her.”

“She was there. She helped a ton keep the other cops away from us before we could escape,” Steph says. “I think she wanted to check on Jason and…”

Tim stops moving. He knows Montoya, worked with her before and she’s a nice woman. That being said, she doesn’t have any connections to Hood. Why would she… Oh. The gay rumors. Damn wlw/mlm solidarity.

“What happened?” Tim asks, already fearing the worst.

“Hmmm, we’ll tell you, but I’m concussed, so you have to promise you won’t be mad.”

“Jason.”

Jason sighs. “Well. She asked about our relationship and… Hm. I might have told her we’re brothers.”

Tim stares at them. Steph is cringing and Jason is too out of it to care. At this point… Tim starts laughing, making the other two - even the concussed one - frown in worry.

“Aw, man,” Tim says between chuckles. “What the fuck, am I right? I’m too old for this. Who cares? Not me! Fuck it. Fuckety fuck fucky-fuck.”

“I think we broke him,” Steph whispers even as Tim resumes stitching his brother.

They went from not-sure-if-real to a freaking cop knowing about their family in the span of a week. Tomorrow #TimDrakeIsRedRobin could be trending on Twitter and Tim wouldn’t care. Not anymore. Let them come.Literally everyone in his friend circle is a vigilante, a hero or a criminal at this point, he doesn’t even care about endangering anyone.

It takes actually two days for it to hit the news. He’s alone in his office when Tam texts him a link to Gotham Gazette online. Judging by the lack of other words, Tim figures she’s cutting ties with him again.

The newest article has no actual pictures, but a sketch of Red Hood standing with his guns pointed at the viewer and Red Robin standing behind him, his face only partially turned. The thing looks more like superhero fanart than an official sketch, but that never stopped Vicki Vale before.

VIGILANTE FAMILY? by Vicki Vale

Red Robin, one of Gotham’s many masked vigilantes, was cause of intrigue recently. Many people noticed the hero doing his work around Red Hood’s territory, something not even Batman dares on the regular. Speculation turned into a craze of theories when both red-themed vigilantes were caught sitting on a roof sharing a meal from Batburger and many thought perhaps there was more than your regular vigilante team up.

Turns out the hero and the mob boss aren’t lovers, against popular belief. When questioned about the nature of their relationship, Red Hood snapped and confirmed one of the less popular theories: the two men are, in fact, related. “Red is right and he should say it,” said Red Hood to a bewildered policewoman. “Of course he’d say it’s [REDACTED] gross, he’s my little brother.” When asked about the conversation overheard by our reporter, the policewoman in question refused to give any more details and requested to remain anonymous.

It’s hard to be sure how such development came to be. The Red Hood has been active in Gotham for years as a mob boss and, more recently, a vigilante and ally to Gotham’s bats. While Red Robin is a newer vigilante, could it be that he was trained by the Red Hood? And how do the two brothers fit with Gotham’s oldest vigilantes? Unlike his older counterpart, Red Robin has been often spotted working side-by-side with the likes of Batgirl and Robin, making some question whether Red Robin is distancing himself from his criminal brother. However, sources spotted Hood being aided by Batgirl more recently. Could it be that his former sidekick is bringing Red Hood closer to the side of justice? More on the Red Twins as the story develops.

THE BIRDNEST

spoiler alert: RED TWINS

WonderWing: R E D T W I N S

send me a Signal: ~ * R E D T W I N S * ~

in the hood: uhhhh my bad?

yumm: dis is great

yumm: now im hoods stranged sidekick

yumm: i fucking hate u jason.

in the hood: hey, if you didn't want to be my sidekick you should've picked another color

yumm: screw u u dont own the color red

in the hood: I was born first

yumm: u died first 2

WonderWing: Tim!

spoiler alert: oof

send me a Signal: wow Tim that was too far

in the hood: I’ve never been prouder to be your brother I taught you so well Timmy

send me a Signal: … I stand corrected. I sometimes forget everyone in this family is clinically insane

“Hey Tim. There is discourse about you and Jason now.”

Tim lets out a whimper.

“So apparently some people still ship you two. But those people are being cancelled because shipping incest is problematic.”

“Steph, are you planning on going home? I noticed you took one of my drawers.”

“There’s fanart of you two.”

“I don’t want to see it. That'll scar me for life."

“I’m DMing it to you. By the way there is civilian Red Robin fanart and for some reason they made you blonde.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I guess it’s more fun to ship people with different hair colors. Should we dye your hair?”

“Why.”

“That way when you finally hook up with Co-”

“Finish that sentence and I kick you out of this apartment for good.”

With the cat out of the bag, they start doing different damage control.

Red Hood is now openly working with the Bats, so Steph and Cass dismantle Hood’s former safehouses around Gotham which mostly means getting Jason’s books and bringing them to Tim’s place. Jason suggests the places should be converted into something useful for the neighborhood, such as libraries or a community center of sorts, so Tim starts working on what needs to be done by WE to make that reality. Tim also makes sure Bruce pretends not to know Jason is using a lot of money illegally acquired to getting himself new hideouts.

They dance around the topic a lot and nothing is really said until Steph brings it up. Steph, whose mother returned days ago. Steph, that definitely doesn’t want Jason to leave, because apparently she suddenly has a new favorite ex-Robin. Steph, that is currently eating homemade waffles in Tim’s kitchen, even though Tim is 83% sure she didn’t sleep over last night.

“Why doesn’t Jason just moves in?” she asks.

When neither boy replies immediately, she continues:

“I mean, it’s more practical, isn’t it? Tim’s place is already secure, he has a hero hideout downstairs and you two already work together all the damn time. Tim’s office can be converted into a room for Jason, because, let’s face it, I spend most of my free time here and Tim never uses it. I once saw him take his laptop with him to the bathroom and then return to the kitchen table instead of using the office. We wouldn’t even have to take the shelves, because Jason would fill them.”

They exchange a look.

“You know, she’s right,” Tim says. He shrugs like it’s no big deal, really.

He isn’t nervous at all while Jason stands there, his expression unreadable. It’s not like he enjoys way too much having his brother around and got way too comfortable with having a roommate and a half (if you count Steph) on the past weeks. Tim doesn’t care, he’s cool like that.

“I mean. I guess having you as a roommate beats living alone,” Jason finally says.

Tim fails to hide his grin. “We can start working in turning the office into a room this weekend.”

Jason smiles back and messes his hair.

Tim’s first theory is that Steph wants Jason off the couch so she has an official place to sleep, because apparently Jason’s cooking is that good.

His second theory is that she noticed how happy Tim is to finally share a house with family. The Wayne Manor had been home for a while, sure, but despite Alfred’s best efforts the place wasn’t the coziest. It wasn’t the same as sharing an apartment with a brother, bickering about sharing chores and openly discussing their night jobs before shifting the conversation to a video game they want to buy. Sharing actual meals and making sure one another wouldn’t end up dead in a ditch.

Tim decides to stick with his first theory, after all it’s easier for Steph to make Red Twins jokes if Jason and Tim are under the same roof.

Even without new gossip, the idea of vigilante brothers is too interesting for the general public to let go. Tim and Jason start acting mostly in the shadows and having no interaction with civilians at all and they’re still the topic of Gotham’s variety shows and online discussions from time to time.

Because they don’t slip again, Bruce has yet to bring up the subject with Tim, but the mystery remains. Who listened to all those conversations and how? Tim keeps expecting the other shoe to drop, to get a message demanding ransom for their secret identities, something, anything , but nothing happens. Nothing freaking happens and he’s never been this frustrated.

That is, until, it happens. The ultimate betrayal.

Dick’s next visit coincides with the time Cass is over for the week. Because Bruce is secretly a sap in the wrongest way, he suggests they all go patrolling together. Such great family time.

Despite their initial protests, they must all be the same kind of freak, because they all agree. They split up soon to cover more ground, but keep their comms on so it still feels they’re all in a big menacing group.

Red Robin is somewhere near the crime alley when Nightwing announces he noticed some of Two Face’s goons getting into a building. He checks his wrist pad for their locations and notices Nightwing isn’t that far from where he is. The next closest person is Red Hood.

“I’ll take care of it,” Nightwing says over the comms.

“Negative. Two Face himself might be there,” Batman intervenes. “Wait for backup. The Red Twins--” And he stops himself as though realizing what he’s saying.

“Batman!?” Red Robin gasps in a betrayed voice.

Nightwing is already having a laughter fit over the comms almost drowning the sound of Bruce’s disappointed sigh.

“I’m sorry, Red,” his father says and he even forgets to use Batman’s scary voice. “Nightwing and Batgirl have been saying it so much that-”

“Save it,” Hood groans. “And stop laughing, Jerkwing!”

The worst part is knowing that, even if he solves the mystery, the Red Twins thing is probably going to follow him to his untimely death.

Tim all but lost hope when he gets an email from Barbara. “To my favorite Red Twin” says the subject. He groans, but opens the email, because one does not simply ignore a message from Oracle. Then he almost drops his phone.

Attached there is a grainy picture of a young woman talking to Vicki Vale. The image had certainly been enhanced digitally as it’s probably from a shitty security camera, but you can still see the woman’s face clear as day. She looks like she’s handing Vicki something, her shoulders tense and her expression wary. The body of the message is, most likely, the woman’s personal info. Her name is Lisa Harris. She is 27 years old. She lives somewhat close to Jason’s territory. And, most importantly, Babs added to the end of the message:

The picture is from the night before the Red Twins article ;) Vicki didn’t talk to anyone other than her coworkers and our pal Lisa on that night.

Jason comes out of his room when Tim trips on the coffee table in his hurry to stand. “What’s up?”

Tim hands him the phone. Jason’s eyes grow wide. “I don’t care about subtlety. We’re both going after this chick.”

“Agreed.”

“Should we wait for Steph? She’s gonna be mad that we went when she’s in class.”

“Jason, Steph doesn’t live here.”

“Doesn’t she, though?”

“We’re not waiting for Steph. She’s not involved.”

“Aight, but when she’s bitching I’m gonna say I remembered her and you said no.”

They leave their bikes behind first for stealth sake, but mostly because the place they’re going isn’t that far from their place. Tim shivers at the thought of someone so dangerous living near him. He wonders what kind of information Lisa might have gathered and for how long she’d been watching them. Is she a new enemy? Perhaps a member of the league?

The shitty building she lives in doesn’t suggest that. It’s just another grimy Gotham apartment complex that didn’t age well. The place they’re looking for doesn’t have a balcony, only a useless fire escape so rusty it would probably crumble under any sign of flames. It’s a perfect hiding spot, because nothing suggests a villain lives there. It’s just a building, home to many underpaid bachelors, nothing too suspicious about it.

Red Robin reminds Hood of that before they nod to each other and split. Jason goes into the building with a ton of confidence, for such a big guy trying to go unnoticed. Tim uses his grapple to reach the right window, not trusting that fire escape for even a second.

The window is open and he finds himself looking at a place not that different from the one Jason lived before moving in with Tim. Mismatched furniture of the living suggests whoever lives there didn’t have money for fancy decor or that they don’t mind how the place looks. However, something about the place looks… well, lived in. It doesn’t look like a criminal temporary hideout, but rather someone’s place.

As he hesitates, a woman walks in. The woman of the picture, Lisa Harris. Her long blonde hair had been tied in a knot on top of her head and she’s getting ready for bed, if her oversized T-shirt and pajama pants say anything. She’s holding a bowl of cereal.

She reminds him of Steph and that causes him to hesitate for a second. What if this girl is innocent? Their evidence is circumstantial. Maybe she just happened to talk to Vicki Vale at the wrong time.

That hesitation costs him dearly. The woman appears to feel his eyes burning the back of her head. She glances at the window and their gazes meet.

Crap.

Lisa inhales sharply and drops her cereal bowl. Before he can reassure her of anything, she’s bolting for the door. He pats himself in the back for his backup plan, because just as she opens the door she runs right into Red Hood’s chest. Lisa stumbles backwards, her expression horrified.

“Knock knock?” Hood quips.

She lets out a squeak and guilt makes Tim wince. Once again he opens his mouth to tell her they’re not here to hurt her when she… vanishes.

She simply disappears right in front of their eyes.

“Shit, she’s a meta,” Hood hisses.

Red Robin’s thoughts fly a thousand miles per hour, finally making the conexions he stupidly missed for so long. Of freaking course. He was so used to dealing with a bunch of idiots in colorful costumes and assassins and whatnot he hadn’t taken in consideration that ninjas aren’t the only exceptional enemies they face. And if his theory is correct.

“She’s still here,” he says. “If I’m right, she can turn invisible. That’s how she’s been listening to private conversations.”

A soft gasp follows his statement and Hood is moving almost as fast as Red Robin’s insights. An invisible woman is still solid and her clumsy footsteps are still audible, so on the moment that follows Jason seems to embrace air.

“No!” She cries out, flashing in and out of sight for a few seconds.

“Careful,” Red Robin warns.

Hood is wearing his helmet, but Tim knows him well enough to know his brother is glaring at him as if saying duh?

Lisa tries to stomp on Hood’s feet, she squirms and grunts, but he doesn't budge. Apparently invisibility is her only power and she looks terrified.

“It’s okay!” Red Robin hurries to say. “We’re not going to hurt you!”

She turns her frantic gaze to him. Her brown eyes suddenly become watery.

Shit.

“Hood, let her go,” Red Robin says.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. You’re not going to try to escape again, are you, Lisa? We just want to ask a few questions.”

He wishes they had waited for Steph.

Lisa hesitates, paralysed, but slowly nods. Her eyes never leave Red Robin once their gazes met, not even to check whether Hood is going to let her go or not.

“Hood,” he calls again.

Groaning something about being too trusting, Jason lets her go. He is gentle about it, too, making sure to let her feet touch the floor carefully instead of simply dropping her. Regardless, as soon as she’s left to stand on her own legs, her knees give in and she drops on the floor. At that, Tim can tell even Jason is hiding guilt behind his helmet.

He shakes his head to regain focus and crouches in front of the woman. If at this point they just apologize and leave, they’ll have traumatizes this poor woman for nothing.

“Lisa Harris,” he starts. “That’s your name, right?”

She trembles when he says her name and that should have been the first red flag. He blames it on the stressful situation and moves on.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” he says. He keeps his expression empty, even if he again can tell Jason is cringing at the understatement. “No one here is going to hurt you. We just want some answers. Is that alright?”

Her hands are balled tightly on her lap as though she’s making a lot of effort not to move them - perhaps to punch them, defend herself? But again she doesn’t look prone to start a fight.

“You’re him,” she whispers, her voice heavy with… something. It almost sounds like affection. “You’re really the Red Robin. In my room.”

That red flag is harder to ignore. He is about to check for other shock symptoms when Hood calls.

“Hmm… Red? Are you seeing that?”

He follows his brother’s gaze… and his chin drops. On the wall opposite to the door hangs a giant corkboard. On the corkboard, held by black and red tacks there are dozens of Red Robin pictures. Some blurry, some taken from so far that you can barely be sure it’s really Red Robin or not, the infamous picture of the thumb war (demon horns had been disturbingly scribbled on Jason on that one) and… He doesn’t have words.

“You’re my hero!” Lisa claims.

“Is he? I couldn’t tell,” Hood says.

Red Robin punches his knee, which is all he can reach from where he is, and turns his attention to the woman in front of him.

“Lisa, for how long have you been following me?”

“Since you saved me,” she says. “Well… Hm. You didn’t save me. But you stopped a heist at the Central Bank a couple of months ago and I was there. I could've died without you.”

Aw, crap on a stick.

“Do you… do you know who I am?”

“You’re Red Robin,” she repeats.

“He’s asking about his identity behind the mask.”

The way she glares at Jason doesn’t suggest she had been shaking in fear moments ago. “He’s Red Robin,” she insists. “I don’t need anything else.”

“If you don’t know… how do you have so many…” Hood gestures vaguely at her creepy corkboard.

“I did detective work,” she says and glances at Red Robin as if expecting a pat on the back. “I noticed you always go on patrol on mondays, wednesdays, fridays and saturdays. Then if I wandered around long enough… It was just a matter of hard work and bit of luck, really.”

Damn. Now that Tim thinks about it, the one time he went on patrol spontaneously was also the night Vicki Vale found him by coincidence rather than magically knowing what happened.

“Fuuuuck,” Hood groans. “I told B patrol schedule was a dumb idea!” Then, in a deep growly voice, “ It’s a matter of efficiency Hood, don’t be paranoid. Who’s paranoid now, Batloser?”

“Not the time, Hood.”

“Right. Proceed.”

Red Robin sighs. “Why did you sell my pictures to Vicki Vale?”

At that, Lisa looks suddenly ashamed. “I.. I’m sorry. I thought… I thought you were involved with him and I panicked. I thought… I thought seeing what it would do to your reputation would make you see that he’s not good enough for you.”

“Rude.”

“Hood.”

“What? She is.”

“I was trying to learn more about him, you know? I was. When I found out he was your brother, I realized you had no option, right? Family is family. I even told the news again to clean your record.”

So he had a stalker. A stalker concerned about his love life, no less, that’s… great. Just great. Of all the scenarios he considered they’d have to face, this is not one of them. Before he decides what to do, however, Lisa speaks up again.

“You sound so… nice.”

Tim stares at her in confusion, unsure whether to thank her or not. Regardless, she didn’t sound like she was complimenting him.

“I mean… aren’t I supposed to be?”

“No! I mean… you’re… you’re dark and brooding and serious and you don’t waste time with civilians unless forced…” She frowns and Tim figures she’s thinking about the night with the strippers. “You’re… the night.”

Jason snorts. Tim punches his knee again. “Lisa, I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of Batman, not me.”

Her expression twists in such fury both vigilantes prepare to restrain her, but instead of directing her anger at them, Lisa scoffs.

“Don’t get me started on Batman! All that crap about being mysterious and working alone? Then he joins the freaking Justice League? Just… Batman, in the middle of a bunch of rainbow wearing clowns. And then… all those freaking kids. Why does he have so many kids?”

“Lady, we ask ourselves that everyday,” Tim admits.

Lisa is wearing the same expression Krystal had when Red Robin denied his relationship with Hood.

“I’m sorry, Lisa, I’m grateful that you admire me, but you can’t keep following me like this.”

Her eyes teary again, Lisa swallows dry. “Clearly, if you’re sorry about it.”

They can’t exactly take her to Arkham for taking pictures. Tim feels less bad about the whole thing when the woman stands and starts telling them in a very loud voice to get the hell out of her house.

“Fine,” Jason says, heading to the corkboard. “But I’m taking this.”

“Take it,” she shouts. “I don’t need it anymore. You’re just like Batman!”

And that’s how Red Hood and Red Robin find themselves standing in the middle of a dusty hallway, Hood with a conspiracy board under his arm.

Well, that happened.

In the end, Steph was furious about them going to the stalker’s house by themselves, but there was not a lot she could do except doodle on every picture of the stalker board.

There must be something very wrong with their sense of humor, because their text group becomes a mess of jokes about the stalker Robin being stalked. At that Tim has no problem exercising Jason’s lessons in holding grudges and refuses to help them with any of their cases unless they stop it. The thing is that all of them find the whole thing hilarious.

All of them except Duke.

“Give it a while,” Tim tells him. “You’re the most recent acquisition to the family. In due time your idea of funny will be just as warped as ours.”

“Hm. When was the last time you slept, Timmy?” Duke asks.

“Tuesday.”

“Today is Tuesday.”

“Hahahaha yeah.”

“... Jaaaaasooon! Come over here! Tim is going into The Ring territory! Do something about it!”

Bruce doesn’t find it funny either. He isn’t happy that there’s a deranged meta he didn’t know about, but Tim thinks that was the least surprising part of the whole ordeal. He reckons a lot of metas doesn’t want to be a hero or a villain, they’re just regular people that live regular lives and happened to win in the metagene lottery.

Or… well. In Lisa’s case, not so regular.

And that’s why upon hearing the story for the first time, Bruce completely freaks out. He starts considering possibilities from scaring the woman as Batman - “That’s a terrible idea, dad, you heard she likes that shit,” says Dick over facetime - or having her arrested - “Father, having bad taste in men is hardly a crime. She has yet to do anything to harm Timothy” Damian helpfully reminds him - and finally to fill out a restraining order - “For who, Karen?” Jason snaps. “Red Robin? Or you want to walk into that nut job and tell her she’s not allowed near Tim Drake-Wayne?”

Long story short, it’s chaos. Tim has had enough of a crazy night, so he sits back near the training area of the cave and sips the tea Alfred made him. Bruce is doing Tim’s stressed out circuit, pacing back and forth around the cave while his children follow him - Damian is holding the phone higher than his head so Dick can talk to Bruce at eye level - and they try to talk him out of doing anything stupid.

Most of them, anyway. It looks like Duke is definitely looking into the possibility of a restraining order.

Cass detaches herself from the mess and heads towards Tim. She looks calm, as Cass always does, and some of that calm transfers to him. When she takes a seat by his side, he smiles at her.

“Okay?” she asks.

Tim shrugs. “Weirded out, mostly. I’ll be fine.”

She points at her then signs Tim’s house as a question. She’s asking him if he wants her to come over.

While Cass is one hell of a bodyguard, Tim thinks of Steph, who’s most definitely playing with his video games back at home, and of Jason, whose schedule mostly matches Tim’s, hence he is, more often than not, at one shout of distance. Tim can’t think of any place that feels safer than his home right now.

“I’m fine. Jay and Steph are taking care of me. I’ll just have to be twice as careful during patrol,” he says.

Cass nods, satisfied. She gives him a forehead kiss and leans against his side. The two of them watch their family yell at each other for the next ten minutes, matching serene smiles on their faces.

Bruce settles for keeping Lisa under occasional watch.

Barbara stalks her online and finds that Lisa has left a Red Robin fanclub (Tim did not know those existed) and closed all of her threads on the Red Robin subreddit (Tim knew about those, but kept his distance), making it seem that learning that Red Robin is just a polite-ish kid really killed her love.

Bruce says he’ll keep tabs on her because he know she’s a meta, it’s not like he’s being overprotective, he totally knows Tim can take care of himself, really.

Other than that, Bruce is way too happy about Jason’s new living arrangement. He even almost smiles.

Tim… is fine. The whole thing is creepy, for sure, but he finds out that his siblings making so many jokes about it makes it easier to handle. Yay for their unhealthy coping mechanisms.

He doesn’t think he will ever be okay with media, though. It’s annoying enough that he has to deal with reporters as Tim Drake-Wayne, he definitely doesn’t need the attention as Red Robin.

Luckily for him, his siblings help him with that too. One time he’s wrapping a gang bust with Nightwing when a reporter comes running towards them, begging for a few answers. Red Robin cringes inwardly realizing there are no close buildings to use his grapple, but before he can say anything, Nightwing squeezes his shoulder.

“Go, Timmy. I’ve got this.”

Tim smile. “Thanks, Dick.”

And he leaves the silent and swift way only a Bat can do.

Things are great. As great as they can be in Gotham, at least. Tim wakes up at 9am - an early time for a vigilante, but he got at least 5 hours of sleep, so that’s something - and heads to the kitchen. He finds Steph (who still swears she doesn’t live with them) and Jason bickering over pancakes they’re making. Smiling to himself, Tim mumbles a good morning and starts washing the dirty dishes from last night.

The peaceful morning is interrupted by Steph’s phone buzzing. She use a paper towel to clean her hands before checking it and…

“Uh… Timbers?” she calls.

He freezes, the pan he’s washing suddenly forgotten. “What now?”

Steph is trembling with contained laughter when she hands him the phone. Duke just sent her a link to a news article. Tim clicks and finds himself staring at the headline RIVALRY BETWEEN HEROES? followed by a clear picture of Nightwing and a blurry shot of Red Robin.

The article follows:

After dealing with an infamous gang of contrabandists that operated near Gotham’s harbor, Nightwing and Red Robin went their separate ways without much courtesy. Despite the short collab, it appears that Red Robin didn’t appreciate Nighwing’s help, his farewell words being a sarcastic “thanks” followed by calling Bludhaven’s hero a “dick”.

Tim raises his eyes to the other two. Steph is hiding her face into the crook of Jason’s neck, her shoulders still trembling a bit. Having read the article over Steph’s shoulder, Jason is biting his lip.

Tim deadpans: “This is the funniest shit that ever happened to me.”

The three of them explode in laughter and they cackle for a good minute, until the three of them are breathless and their cheeks hurt.

“I-I want to print that and frame it,” Steph manages between giggles. “Let’s hang it on the living room.”

“Good… ahaha… Good work, Timbers,” Jason says, smiling wide. “For that, you can have extra pancakes.”

Tim is still grinning when he goes back to his dish duty. Maybe being under the media attention isn't so bad after all.

#batfam #red robin #tim drake #jason todd #red hood #stephanie brown #red bros #poteto writing #lmao here take this

32 notes · View notes