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apparitionism · 3 months

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Bonus 2

Here’s the second part of a holiday story, begun in part 1, about how Myka and Helena, in a vaguely season 4 world in which nobody’s going to go to Boone but through which they have thus far been separated, are reunited for a day-before-Christmas-eve retrieval in Cleveland. Helena has been summoned by Claudia to serve as Myka’s backup, for Pete is spending some holiday time with his family... but as it turns out, the retrieval is necessary because—plot-semi-twist!—Pete Christmas-gifted his cousin, who is a bigwig at an accounting firm, with an artifact, a pen that apparently has something to do with Santa’s naughty/nice list. Which said cousin used to confer end-of-year bonuses—and penalties. As this part opens, Myka is just beginning to process the fact that the whole situation is Pete’s fault...

(And no, I didn’t manage to bring this thing in for a landing in this part. Nobody faint from the surprise.)

Bonus 2

“Okay,” Myka acknowledges, because what else can she do? The fact is that in any Warehouse-related context, “coincidence” is a non sequitur, and she begins formulating a plan to Christmas-gift Claudia with a T-shirt featuring that sentiment. How fast can she get a custom T-shirt made?

The irony is that Claudia would know.

“Yeah,” says Pete’s cousin—Pete’s cousin! She might be affirming the Claudia-irony in Myka’s head, or the situational irony Myka is now stuck in, or any of the vast array of ironies that make up the Warehousian unfolding of time itself. Myka would not have expected Pete’s cousin’s words to contain multitudes. And yet.

“He told me it was the kind of thing he thought I’d like,” that cousin continues, “and he was right. Effects aside, it’s a gorgeous implement. Perfectly balanced... which I guess works on an existential level too, doesn’t it? Naughty, nice.” She shifts the pen to rest a delicate crosswise on an extended index finger, testing its equilibrium as a chef might a knife.

The pen—or is it merely a different species of knife?—basks in Nancy Sullivan’s regard. “Resonant little instrument,” she says, with clear affection. “Anyway, we were talking about Pete.” A different sort of affection now colors her voice. “He went into this big production-number apology about it being sort of secondhand.”

“Oh?” Myka says, distracted by pens, knives, resonances... but, right, secondhand. Of course it’s secondhand. No new item could be an artifact. Or could it? This seems like a Steve-conversation topic.... and it certainly beats “H.G. is god knows where” for philosophy.

“Not because it’s not new,” Pete’s cousin says, apparently reading Myka’s mind, “but because he initially was thinking he’d give it to somebody else.”

Myka repeats her interrogative “oh?”, but she’s getting a feeling again.

“Yeah,” says Nancy Sullivan, and Myka really has to applaud her talent for broadly applicable affirmation. “He said he wanted to give it to his partner because, and I quote, ‘she likes the old-fashioned stuff,’ but then he realized he shouldn’t because, and I also quote, ‘she’s got this whole family feathery-pen dealy-thingy and I don’t want to upset her.’” She waves the pen again, this time directly at Myka, like a conductor imploring the oboes to pick up the pace. “And he told me his partner’s name,” she concludes.

“I’m sure there are lots of Myka Berings in the world?” Myka tries, weakly, raising her hands as if to offer Nancy Sullivan all those other Myka Berings. The last vestige of defensibility... then her hands drop, because really. She looks at Helena in apology, with only an indistinct, tangled sense of what she’s apologizing for. I’m sorry I occasioned this is part of it, yet there’s a deeper fault she feels but can’t quite ideate, one more consequential than an anodyne “oops.”

“Listen, he’s a really good guy,” Nancy Sullivan says.

“I agree completely,” Myka assures her. But in the interest of full disclosure, she adds, “Mostly completely. I mean, I’m going to kill him for this.”

Helena says, “Are you.” Her tone brings Myka up short: it’s impossibly knowing, suggesting insight into everything Myka has been thinking, about someday and talking and things.

Again with the reading so right.

Myka would love to have the panache to do more than glance furtively at Helena, to pull off a playful, similarly knowing response, like “that depends on my backup” (or something actually clever that will doubtless occur to her during some post-holiday post-mortem). Instead she goes with a not at all interrogative “Oh.”

Nancy Sullivan looks from Myka to Helena. Then she says, “Okay, revision: A really good guy who might be hanging onto some unreasonable hope.”

Myka wishes she could keep from glancing yet again, now, at Helena—now as she grasps the fullness of her underlying error, now as she formulates a hopeful plan regarding someday saying out loud “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that he had any such hope and that I didn’t make completely clear that any such hope would never have been anything but unreasonable”—but the wish doesn’t work. She glances... thus proving Nancy Sullivan’s point.

“He didn’t mention you,” Pete’s cousin tells Helena. “I think I see why.”

“I’m both offended and pleased,” Helena says, with her customary little thank-you head-bow.

Rather than luxuriating in the familiarity of that head-bow, Myka tries to head off a more detailed discussion of Helena’s role in it all (and what a nondescriptively limp phrase that is) by observing, “The sixth-sense thing is quite the family trait.”

“Ah. Sure. You’ve had experience,” Nancy Sullivan says, a little droop in her voice.

Has she taken Myka’s words as criticism? Myka hurries to reassure, “Sometimes it’s very helpful.”

“But. Other times.” This is heavier, and now she must be referencing her own vibe-related experiences.

“Your family get-togethers must be really... charged?” Myka tries.

Nancy Sullivan offers another all-encompassing “Yeah.” Then she laughs. “But at least we don’t have a feathery-pen dealy-thingy like your family does.”

Helena clears her throat, an attention-garnering ah-ha-hem, as if it’s in the stage directions preceding her next line in some farce. She inclines her head: more stage-direction drama. Finally, “You do now,” she says in benediction.

Nancy Sullivan’s jaw drops. “Wow,” she says, and “wow,” she repeats. Then she laughs again and says, “He really should’ve mentioned you.”

Myka might laugh too, but she is preoccupied by the way in which Helena’s well-chosen articulation has persuaded her body to remind her that it and she have reached no mutually satisfactory agreement about appropriate reactions.

And that in turn sparks Myka to a realization: once the retrieval is accomplished, there may be a nonzero chance that she and Helena could enjoy a bit more of that liminal together-presence...

Myka’s body makes its best effort to crash through the gauzy ideating her brain would prefer to do about what such time could entail, and after no small amount of nethers-vs.-cerebrum struggle, she manages to propose, truce-wise, a simple Let’s just hope it exists.

Surprisingly, body and mind are willing to shake on that, giving Myka leave to slip on a glove and pronounce, “Just give us the pen. Then it’s over. Mostly. The money will probably revert... so you’ll most likely have to redo the bonuses the old-fashioned way.” Hearing herself, she amends, “Well. The regular way.”

“I don’t mind redoing. But reverting...” Pete’s cousin tightens her fingers around the artifact, pulling it near to her body as if she might be considering, for one last “maybe,” the idea of punching her way out.

Myka tenses, and she doesn’t need to cast a glance to know that Helena is doing the same.

She glances anyway... and indeed, Helena alive with wiry readiness is a sight worth the seeing. So worth it, in fact, that Myka is genuinely, if improperly, disappointed that said sight doesn’t cause the truce to collapse.

After a moment, however, color returns to Nancy Sullivan’s knuckles, and Myka removes the pen from her slackened grip.

But then Nancy Sullivan cocks her head. “Is it really over though? I feel like something else might be happening.”

No. No. Absolutely not. “Something else is always happening,” Myka says, affecting nonchalance as she slides the feathery foolishness into a static bag, ignoring its yipping sparks of protest. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nancy Sullivan casts a skeptical look at the barky little bag. “If you say so. Anyway seeing Pete’s face when I tell him you and I –and he and I!—are fellows in family feathery-pen dealy-thingies now? Might end up being the second-best end-of-year bonus of all, given everything.” There’s a little mockery in her voice, echoing the cousin Myka knows so well.

“And the best such bonus?” Helena inquires.

“Docking Bob’s pay,” Nancy Sullivan says instantly.

Myka snorts, and Nancy Sullivan turns back to her and says, “Are you okay with me being glad we met?” Like she’s mostly but not entirely sure of the response she’ll get, and that’s another echo.

“Only if you’re okay with me being glad too,” Myka says, her own voice sounding a familiar note—one she’s pretty sure Pete would recognize.

After a nod, Nancy Sullivan turns to Helena. “I’d say it to you, but I feel like there’s something extra going on with you, like—”

Myka steps in: “Honestly, always,” and then she’s hustling Helena out of the office even as Helena chirps, “I’m both offended and pleased by that as well!”

Back in the elevator, Helena speaks first. “I did not expect that,” she says, sounding entertained by—practically bubbly about—the entire scenario.

“I should have,” Myka grumbles.

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Oh god no,” Myka says, involuntarily. “Too easy if anything.”

Helena’s eyebrows rise, and her eyes accuse. “I’ve known you for no small amount of time,” she says.

Myka’s previous review fights that statement, but she doesn’t speak of it.

Her lack of response prompts a heavy I-am-no-longer-entertained sigh. “Must I return to the phrase ‘your truth’?”

“Please don’t,” Myka says. That’s also nearly involuntary, but it sounds too harsh, like she’s dismissing as unimportant that bookstore interaction, as well as the entirety of those in-extremis manifestations of herself and Helena. Rather than apologizing for that, for surely it would prove far too entangling, she tries to draw Helena’s attention back to the entertainment. “I like Nancy Sullivan. She reminds me of Pete and his mom.”

“Pete’s mother? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

That’s a bit more jousty, backed by curiosity. Good. “She’s a Regent,” Myka says, for it’s the most salient piece of information she has about Jane Lattimer.

Helena stills. Her jaw hardens. “Then perhaps I have indeed had the... pleasure.” Cold. Cold. Cold.

You idiot, Myka scourges herself. Why couldn’t she have done the normal thing and left Pete’s mom as “Pete’s mom”? But now, but now: now she’s seen this wound, down there under the ice, and she wants to test that ice, but she can’t, regardless of her wish and want to know know know, to know everything Helena has been put through, so as to know whom to hate (and she hopes that doesn’t include Pete’s mom) and whom to someday thank (and she double-hopes that does include Pete’s mom). “Anyway I think the cousin had the right idea,” she says, pushing back to the now, to what just happened. “Using an artifact to do what are really decent things, even if they were judgmental.”

“Rather Old Testament,” Helena says. “Strangely inappropriate for this holiday, no?” She asks that like she’s really thinking—wondering—about it.

Myka congratulates herself on having provided a distraction, however minimal, from whatever Regent-pain her unthinking reveal caused to surface. “I hadn’t thought about Santa being more Yahweh than Jesus,” she says, to enhance it, “and I’m not sure what it says about my position on salvation that I genuinely wish we could have let her keep that pen. Or even better, if we could maybe ferry it around to deserving arbiters... wouldn’t that contribute to the greater good, even if it’s in a judgy Old-Testament way?”

Helena’s face moves as if she’s about to answer, but before she can, a rupturing screech of metal-on-metal complication resounds decisively through the space, and their ear-popping descent slows, slows, slows...

...and stops.

After an appropriately irony-bearing pause, Helena says, “This elevator seems to disapprove of your suggestion. Or perhaps it’s your theological indecision that displeases?”

All Myka can manage is an extremely resigned “I am not surprised.”

Efforts to summon help strengthen the “disapproval” interpretation: they’re fruitless. No one answers the emergency line, and this mirrored box is, according to both their phones, the place where cell service goes to die. Or where that service is interfered with by a theologically offended pulley-based mechanism.

“I genuinely cannot believe we’re stuck in an elevator,” Myka says. It may be the most true statement to which she’s ever given voice.

After a beat, however, she concedes, “But of course I can.”

Helena casts her gaze around. Once again, exaggeratedly stage-direction-y. “At least it’s reasonably well-appointed. For an elevator in which to be... stuck.” She seems to relish articulating “stuck,” so she’s back to being entertained. Not quite bubbly, but definitely entertained.

Myka can’t get past her annoyance with the elevator’s disapproval, so she says a peevish, “I don’t like mirrors.” She’s painfully aware now that they cover not only the walls, but also the ceiling. She can’t even look heavenward in supplication, sarcastic or otherwise, without regarding herself. It really is too much.

Given that no other communication technology is working, she resorts to the Farnsworth. She gives thanks for Warehouse mojo, or whatever enables it to elude the elevator’s wrath, when Claudia answers with, “No info on ‘lists, making them’ yet.”

“We dealt with that,” Myka tells her. “New problem.”

“Another artifact?”

“Who knows? Maybe Pete’s in an elevator somewhere else in this town making bad decisions, and they’re redounding to our detriment.” She’s vamping. Stuck in an elevator with Helena, she’s vamping. Instead of simply basking in such fantasy-made-fact, she’s vamping.

She doesn’t bother wondering whether Helena knows she’s doing that; if this little adventure has done nothing else, it’s reminded Myka that Helena always knows. It’s both wonderful and terrible to be so legible, particularly to someone Myka so often finds frustratingly illegible.

“I’m not following,” Claudia says.

Speaking of illegible: Myka, heal thyself. “We’re stuck. In an elevator,” she clarifies.

Claudia makes a noise that, impressively, marries a gasp and a snicker. “Are you really? Or did you push the stop button, like people do?”

“Like people... what?”

“When they want to have a little uninterrupted chat,” Claudia says, pedantic, as if now she’s the one who’s “clarifying.”

“Nobody does that in real life,” Steve says from offscreen. Myka is pleased to know he’s around.

“Myka just did,” Claudia insists in his direction. “Didn’t you,” she insists at Myka.

“If I did,” Myka says, “why would I be calling you to get us out of here?”

“Yeah, why would she?” Steve asks, but from farther away.

Don’t leave! Myka wants to exhort. She would never admit to needing backup in a counter-Claudia sense... but she does appreciate when Steve provides it.

“Oooh, because maybe the chat didn’t go so well,” Claudia says with great, and to Myka’s thinking entirely inappropriate, relish.

Trying for calm pragmatism, she says, “Wouldn’t I just... unpush the stop button then?”

“Myka,” Claudia says. It’s the most chiding, disappointment-laden use of her name Myka has ever heard, even when measured against all the times her father has uttered those two designating syllables. “Believe me when I tell you I’m a fan,” Claudia goes on, turning mollifying, “but you really need to lean in when it comes to tropes.” Myka can’t imagine how to respond to that, so she doesn’t. Claudia sighs—seemingly everyone’s preferred go-to when Myka fails to produce words—and says, “Did you try calling maintenance? Pushing the emergency button? Using your cell?”

“Yes, yes, and no service. Do you genuinely think I don’t understand modern communication technology?”

“I think you pretend you don’t understand newfangledness all the time. Particularly when you’re trying to show off how sympatico you are with H.G., who incidentally doesn’t seem to be piping up like I’d expect. Did you knock her unconscious after your terrible chat? Or maybe during it?”

Helena has indeed been very—very surprisingly—quiet while Myka has explained the situation to Claudia. And she doesn’t step in to help Myka out now. So much for any counter-Claudia backup.

“There was not a chat,” Myka says.

Helena is regarding herself in the mirrored ceiling.

“But there could be one now?” Claudia nudges. “Let me see if I can see what’s up. I’ve got cell service.” She disconnects.

Helena abruptly abandons her ceiling self-contemplation, focusing her gaze upon Myka. It’s disconcerting. “Are you attempting to avoid an uninterrupted chat?” she asks.

Myka can’t suss the question’s sincerity. And notwithstanding all her ideas about talking, she suffers a cringing internal “yes.” Externally, however, she says, in what she hopes offers at least a veneer of sincerity of her own, “No.”

She doesn’t follow up by asking “why would I be doing that,” because Helena would probably have a guess. And because that guess would probably be accurate: “You are a coward,” Helena might say, and Myka would regrettably have to either tell the truth and agree, or lie and disclaim any emotional investment in whatever the outcome of such a chat might be.

Silence. Longer than it should be... or is it as long as Myka deserves?

You wanted time together. Don’t bellyache about the form it takes.

“Your objection to mirrors,” Helena eventually says.

“What about it?” Myka asks. Her very soul flinches.

“What is it?”

Myka has never before stated her dislike of mirrors aloud, and she regrets having done so now. To play it off, she says a dismissive, “An artifact.” And yet the truth is that despite the unnerving nature of her interaction with Alice’s mirror and how it continues to prey on her mind, it isn’t really that—or rather, that only intensified her dislike.

But when Helena proposes, “Yet another ‘dealy-thingy’?”, clearly (and preciously) trying the phrase out in her mouth, Myka misleadingly (intentionally misleadingly) nods and says, “They’re all dealy-thingies.”

To that, Helena says, “Interesting.”

Myka would probe that word, but to do so might destabilize the ground, here in an elevator. Instead, for the moment, she tilts her head in the direction of the Christmas muzak, the literal elevator music, being piped in. “Oh, sure, that still works.” She gestures at the speaker, a thin dark stripe between two mirror-panels, from which the sound is emerging. The elevator is nothing if not insistent.

In truth, she doesn’t mind Christmas carols. She does mind the bowdlerization thereof, and isn’t that an attitude the dogmatic elevator really ought to share? O holy night, the stars are brightly... synthesizing? It’s wrong.

Now even her mind is vamping. Great.

Helena tilts her head toward the speaker, however, and Myka appreciates her willingness to be redirected. At least for a moment.

In fact, for all her vamping, mental and otherwise, Myka finds herself absurdly content to simply stand against a mirrored elevator wall and regard Helena... who in that instant of Myka’s acknowledged contentment seems to accept their predicament as unlikely to be resolved in a timely fashion: she sits down, of course elegantly, resting her back against her side of the box and stretching her legs (her legs, Myka’s body notes, just to let her know it’s still paying close attention) out in front of her.

The looking-down perspective is a bit disorienting—although at least this time it has nothing to do with being stuck to a ceiling—but Myka has no time to process it, for Helena’s next salvo, looking up, is, “You’ve been expecting me to remark further on naughtiness, haven’t you.”

Reading, yet again. “I kind of have,” Myka admits. It seems an overly judgmental statement, particularly given that Myka has to deliver it as if from an elevated bench. And yet... she kind of has.

“I’d rather not fulfill that expectation,” Helena says. “If we could speak of other things.”

Myka is a little thrown, but thankful. “That is entirely fine by me. What do you want to talk about?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” Myka says, meaning it as an answer to either interpretation of Helena’s interrogative: Are you asking what I want to talk honestly about? or Are you asking, with honest intent, what I want to talk about? She hopes Helena will respond similarly.

“Something that interests you,” Helena says.

That’s not in any way what she was expecting. “Really?”

“Really.”

It’s a word similar to, yet very different from, “honestly.” What, in a real sense, interests Myka? In this moment, all she can think to say is “you.” And perhaps because her normal inhibitions are disordered, here in this stopped elevator, that’s what she blurts out.

And that seems, incongruously, to take Helena aback. “What about me?” she asks.

Myka can’t say “everything.” It’s the real answer (really), but it’s far too... big. For an unexpected reunion, an unexpected uninterrupted chat—although Claudia or rescuers could at any point interrupt it, which Myka should hope happens (should)—it’s far too big.

So: smaller. What occurs first to Myka is “where have you been”—but that would most likely seem accusatory. She needs something else. Something something something...

In the aftermath of the Warehouse not being destroyed, she’d felt herself full of hard-earned wisdom and bravery: enough, surely, to stop hesitating. Enough, surely, to act. Or enough, at the very least, to articulate.

“Wisdom” and “bravery” now seem nothing more than labels on empty containers, and so “faintheartedness” is the fullness with which Myka here initially accuses her today self. But as Helena breathes and waits for an answer, Myka revises that, gentling it to “caution.” And she adds “care.” Because she is trying to attend to, to appreciate, that breathing. And that waiting.

These might be nothing more than self-indulgently comforting shifts in vocabulary... but then again they might be akin to the shift from “Christmas” to “end-of-year.” Gentle. Inclusionary.

The something something something that occurs to her—because in attempting to avoid her own reflection, she is confronted instead with multiple Helenas—concerns a topic she probably should censor but doesn’t: “When you were a hologram... or a projection, or whatever we should call it... did you have a reflection?” She then reflexively backtracks, “It shouldn’t matter? But I don’t know.” That last, she means both ways. She doesn’t know: whether the reflection existed, or whether it matters. But maybe it’s a sneak-up on things, because she shouldn’t ignore things, and because a seemingly inconsequential tangent might tiptoe toward importance.

“I don’t know either,” Helena says. “I suppose I would have?” Her face contracts. “Or perhaps not, as I don’t know how that holographic projection of myself was... projected. But I do intend to look into it.” She says this last as if Myka has caught her in some inattention, a recklessly uncompleted assignment.

“I never even started majoring in physics,” Myka laments, which is true but also, she hopes, reassuring in an I didn’t do the homework either sense, “so I don’t know the optics of it. Projections. Light and mirrors. “ She doesn’t mention that in the wake of Pittsburgh, she had indeed tried researching such things... she’d got as far as some advanced volumetric displays, ones using dust particles as screens onto which lasers projected light, but at a certain point, a tipping point, the idea of Helena existing as—being relegated to—nothing more than light and dust screamed a surpassing insult, a degradation conjuring death, and it was more than she could bear.

For now she puts that away. She shakes her head, shakes it free, and changes tack. “Anyway, that’s probably the wrong approach. This is Warehousey, so thinking outside physics, the laws... okay, all I know about reflections, unphysically, is that vampires don’t have them. So if you didn’t have one, then maybe all holograms are vampires?” Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. She would have done better to speak of dust, that and light and despair. Going with vampires instead? Talk about vamping...

“Presumably not vice versa,” Helena observes, seemingly taking Myka’s words far too seriously. “Certainly fictionally. Also not overly flattering, in the syllogistic sense of ‘Helena was a hologram, therefore.’”

“They’re very popular though,” Myka temporizes.

“Stoker’s novel was all the rage,” Helena allows.

The chat stalls out. Interrupting itself?

Myka nevertheless feels pressure to fill the silence: it’s her fault. Will a simple truth suffice? “I didn’t expect to be spending the day before Christmas eve with you,” she says. “Or any day with you. In Cleveland.”

A small smile from Helena marks this as a more welcome fill than a question about reflection. As do her next words: “Nor I with you. In Cleveland, or any place. Equally, I didn’t expect to be sent on a mission with you.”

“That part of it went well.” Myka gestures at her bag that contains the artifact.

“We did—and now do once again—make a good team.”

“I’m glad we got the chance to do it again. Glad, but also... relieved.”

“Relieved,” Helena echoes.

That wasn’t a question, but Myka answers anyway, “Well, obviously, first,” she says, feeling herself launching into an explanatory babble that she fears she’ll be powerless to stop, “because you didn’t have to talk anybody out of using Joshua’s Trumpet, so that really makes a difference in terms of how we—”

“‘First’,” Helena quotes, interrupting (stopping), conveying her full knowledge that that too is a vamp. “And second?”

“That we still are.” This, Myka says simple and frank.

“A good team?”

That is a question. Myka knows “yes” is the only sensical answer, so she tries to say it. But the depth and weight of the ways in which she and Helena “still are” choke her: they “still are” in the basic sense of existing, which was never a certainty; and even better, higher, these hours they’ve spent together today have made clear, to Myka at least, that they “still are”... well. She’d like to finish that with something like “in love,” but instead she tries to leave it, even in her head, at “still are,” with their time-crossed, maybe-destined predicate undefined.

“A good team” should be good enough—true enough—for now.

So after a stretch of time during which Myka knows she’s been focusing her gaze far too intently on Helena, she manages that “yes.”

Helena waits to speak.... are her eyes glistening more brightly than usual, or is Myka hallucinating? “I’m relieved as well,” she says, and Myka chooses to simply delight in whatever prompted such a saturated sparkle.

It draws her closer.

She crosses the small-yet-large elevator-width that separates them. “I need to either sit down beside you or help you up,” she says. “Do you have a preference?”

“For?” Helena’s eyes continue to glow.

That shine... Myka has hopes. They may not be realized, but she has them, the product of relief, “still are,” and an unknown predicate. “Whatever’s next,” she says.

A bit of time passes, with Helena now being the one focused most intently. “I’ll stand,” is her verdict.

Myka reaches down with both—both—hands, offering, and Helena reaches up, accepting. Their fingers meet and clasp, and too cold, Myka thinks, for both of them have a chill in those extremities... but first impressions of temperature promptly fall away as the new reality of the clasp roars into precedence.

Myka has never been so certain of, so certain of and enchanted by, what must and will happen next in her life. Never in her life so certain, as the clasp tightens, as their torsos lean, as Myka’s body begins an at-last congratulation, one that will become a celebration—

A voice from somewhere overhead barks, “Everybody okay in there?”

TBC

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #holiday (but not Gift Exchange)#Bonus #part 2 #you never can tell what mechanisms might be up to #sneaky ghosts in machines #(sneaky ghosts ARE machines)#anyway like I said in part 1 #I wanted to put a couple of people in a clichéd situation #and the way this part ends was probably obvious from the get-go #but really #was that space the right venue for...#anything?#Claudia's encouragement aside

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beesmygod · 5 months

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Referring to your additional last post where I believe you are saying that exhausting yourself with tricky social media is not worth the effort as you will be in the same spot you "began" - I would like to know if you feel satisfied with the balance of your output and the response. I always told myself that if I ever make anything that supposedly would interest some people I have yet to meet that I would be satisfied and would be able to do it for just the joy of friends. But I have befallen ill to the call of clout, the lack of numbers having deemed my art worthless and I know many artists quit due to it. I have friends/associates who keep their heads up until in a bad moment they break and lament that they are not where others (popular artists with big clout and opportunity) are. Did you manage to free yourself from that? Or are you supressing it and turn out stronger than most? Because from the looks of everything you are exceptionally strong. I hope your relationship with your art and comic will be met with the same strength. (Apologies for going on Anon - I do not know how to communicate with people nowadays)

no need to apologize for any of this, ever. honestly, it's a difficult to breach subject and a prods at raw nerve that every artist has to tend to at LEAST once at some point. and i think you would have to be superhuman not to feel this complex mixture of contradictory emotions and grapple with it frequently. you want to be seen and heard because that's what art is. why deny the truth: artists crave a sympathetic audience!

remember that you're a human person. you're complex and contradictory by nature; you contain multitudes. you can want multiple things at the same time. it's not a crime to yearn or to express frustration with feeling invisible or underappreciated. i just did this for a week straight lol. i think part of an artistic career is having to face some of this head-on and interrogate yourself. feel the bad feelings. get rejected over and over. it is a career comprised of constant rejection for nearly everyone. and it's extremely hard to put on a happy face and jump back in day after day.

and look, sometimes you lose the battle with yourself for your soul. give yourself the grace when you realize you have. try and learn from it. or don't. it dont mattah. none a dis mattahs

when it comes to numbers, you have to ask yourself: what number will make you happy? when will it be enough to satisfy you? this sounds really confrontational lol but imagine im asking these like "where do you see yourself in the next 10 years?". it's worth interrogating. you do not want to fall into the pit of trying to fill a hole with numbers.

i am absolutely not free of it. not even close. i am shocked to hear that i appear strong given how i feel and behave on any given day. its just a combination of avoidance, suppression, and keeping expectations low. the mantra is: you cannot be rejected if you don't apply, emotional outbursts are like blood in the water to people who dislike you, and expect to be ignored; if you aren't then it's a pleasant surprise.

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justtoarguewithyou · 2 months

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Writing Patterns - LAST Lines!

Rules: write the last line of your 10 longest fics. What patterns can you see, if any? Which ones are your favourites?

tagged by @phdmama in that she very generously tagged everyone. if you're reading this, and you want to, you are now tagged by me. please tag me, or reblog so i can see yours, too!

Thoughts here, lines below the cut!

apparently, i love a line of dialogue to end a story. but what i really see is that whether it's a line of dialogue, or a little sentence summing up the possible future, it's that: always an eye to the future and what might happen next. and so much gentleness.

Every Day I Wake Up and It's Sunday (hermione/oliver wood; 50514 words; this is my first fic, and let me down a 90s rabbit hole that my musical algorithm will never recover from)

Hermione and Oliver had each other, and they knew they made their own luck, and were unafraid.

Biological Imperative (jason todd/dick grayson; 29499 words; omegaverse, lazarus pit shenanigans, baby damian wayne!)

“Yeah,” Dick said. “Come on. Damian needs someone to play with.”

Making All Things New (tyson barrie/nathan mackinnon, and a little jamie benn/tyler seguin; 27432 words; omegaverse, inspired by the excellent oplopanax's feral nate chapter of bits and pieces)

And Tyson wasn’t naming that sweet bonny girl after EJ…

Bang Your Head (steve harrington/eddie munson; 23868 words; fix-it fic all based on the idea "What if Eddie saw Steve on MTV in his vest, hosting the Headbanger's Ball?")

They have all the time in the world.

The Flowers and My Love (jason todd/dick grayson; 22865 words; slowburn, mistaken identity hanahaki trope subversion that also benefited from my 90s music rabbit hole...)

"Yeah, Jason, I want it.”

Home Is Some Place (jason todd/dick grayson; 19302 words; this was supposed to be a one-shot based on high rent prices in gotham that turned into a batfam story. reverse robins! including big brother damian! good mother talia al ghul!)

"Nightwing!"

Containing Multitudes (jason todd/dick grayson; 18243 words; a 5+1 exploration of identity with a little Jason Dent thrown in for fun)

"Hey, Sugar.”

A Surprise To Be Sure (din djarin/luke skywalker; 16841 words; a modern AU focused on family, found or otherwise; just a corny fluffball; i listened to kacey musgraves' golden hour on repeat writing this...)

This is the Way.

Death's Silver Lining (sirius black/remus lupin; 16814 words; exploration of the black family relationship; good mother walberga black [no i'm not spelling her name with a u; she is mine and something entirely different])

They laughed quietly together, as Sirius’s hands inched up Remus’s shirt, and brought it up over his head.

We're in for a Bad Spell (jason todd/dick grayson; 13818 words; omegaverse; magic and time travel)

“K, babe,” Jason texted right back. “We’ll be right here.”

#tag game #my writing #jaydick #wolfstar #steddie #hockey rpf

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assortedvillainvault · 2 years

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YOUR MIND IS SO POWERFUL

Okay so. If you feel up to it. I wanna give you Toy Story vibes and have been interested in Tiny fics so what would it be like having NOS-4-A2 and Horned King as living toys

MY MIND CONTAINS MULTITUDES OF SECRETS AND ARCANE MYSTERIES. I LIKE TO MAKE THEM KISS SOMETIMES.

... ok but this is a fantastic concept, I am going to twist it a tad tho as one thing I never liked about Toy Story was the fact the toy owners never got shown that they were alive. I get WHY, but it never jelled with me. Also - and this is purely self indulgent - this reminds me of a transformers fic I adore called Domestic Electronics, an AU where the TF's were tiny sentient home robots supposed to assist you in daily life. What with the amount of helpful educational toys coming out now, I thought this slotted in nicely.

Both of these apply to an adult owner of the toys in question, SO UNDER THE CUT:

NOS-4-A2

The Idea behind the NOS-4-A2 line was that they would function as a sort of power-transfer that could tell you when your devices were running low on power, siphon charge from devices that could afford it and then use that charge to bolster the ailing device in question.

Since all the characters/devices from this line of The Company (Blosc) were geared more toward exploration and basic outdoorsiness, he was advertised as a perfect travel buddy: excellent conversationist, GPS capable, he even floated to get over rough terrain that would defeat a lesser toy.

Apparently you got the one that was dropped on it's head in the factory becasue as soon as his packet was open he sapped all the energy from your phone and cackled about it while hiding in your bookcase.

You have threatened to take him back to the shop and return him multiple times, but you both secretly know you're not going to do it. You can tell he's sassing you in binary whenever you waver.

He didn't actually act like a 'vampire' until you both stayed up late one night watching old horror flicks. His little monocle was wide and entranced, even as he made disgusted faces at the organic gore. You later found him with another little cape made of tissue and attempting to stalk your roomba.

it was adorable and you took so many blackmail photos.

He does little backflips in the air when he feels pleased or feels he's done his job correctly. Such as - outsmarting your cat, sapping your phone charge, messing with the button for the garage door, that one time he changed your netflix password, and 'hiding' your keys.

Dropped in the factory you swear. If you have any other toys from his line (Blosc) he's going to terrorize them, be wary. XR's tiny electronic beeps for help tend to get shrill.

On the fluffier side though, he loves to be picked up and to be on your shoulder whenever you go anywhere. His pride of place is in your collar or your pocket, where you can quietly exchange snark and judgement on lesser toys.

He purrs. He's strictly in denial of this. You're not.

The Horned King

You got him as a limited edition collectors item since The Company wasn't fond of his source material, big surprise.

They were also slow on the uptake when it came to adapting classic villains to living toys, so he sorta got dumped with being a general assistant, which didn't exactly make him a bestseller when other models were more suited and specialised.

Way to give him an existential crisis, you privately think this is why he breaks things when he's angry.

He tends to just. Disappear and appear. He's freaky quiet and has given you a heart attack more than once. Teeny red eyes in the darkness during a 1 am lurch to the bathroom type heart attack.

Determined though. Once he's decided you need something he's going to get you it, even if it means unlocking doors and climbing the furniture where he could be seriously damaged should he fall.

Should you have any damaged toys or miscellaneous broken bits, he's going to hide them away in a little corner. His manual says he likes to keep things tidy, but you can't deny it looks more than a little morbid to see him lugging the limp exoskeletons into piles, only to stand among them much like his movie counterpart and sharpen an old kitchen knife into a makeshift sword.

He gets posessive and yet also reclusive. If you already have other toys it's going to take him weeks to settle in. If he's the first and you introduce more then you're going to have a vice grip on your shirt and a war over the charging cable.

Let him play your phone games, he's actually really good at logic and word based games! One of his favourite things is to sit with you in the quiet and fill out a sudoku puzzle.

He is going to conquer your pets. He will ride your cat or dog into battle so help him.

Speaking of battle, he actually has some security features and can work with camera's in the home to look out for and alert about intruders. He takes this very seriously and has a strong dislike of having people in the building who aren't you because of this.

He's not going to climb into your lap, but please. Pick him up. Include him. He needs it.

Bonus, If you have these two gremlins TOGETHER:

Between Nos's ability to redistribute energy and the King's hoarding tendecies, that pile of broken parts is now a reanimated flailing pile of electronic cauldron born and they both look SO pleased with themselves

It will take some severe negotiation to get them to reverse the effects and give you back your living room. You could just stomp on the horde but a. ow and b. why would you do that they worked really hard on this reanimation project

Nos tends to have lots of ideas for mischeif, but only act on one or two. The King will only have one or two ideas, but by God they are Happening and Nos will get dragged along.

They're both rather sadistic for toys and like to terrorise smaller models should the opportunity arise.

More than once you have come back to a lego-and-stationary-castle that one or both of them are lounging in. High drama bastards.

They get into spats sometimes, usually just verbal but Nos can snip with the best of them and the King has a tendency to sulk and plot revenge, so it's best to intervene before one of them ends up being taped to the wall and menaced with a screwdriver.

#ty so much for the ask!#I had SO much fun with this #legit might make tiny toy's an au of sorts #the horned king #nos 4 a2 #thalassa responds #headcannons ahoy #seriously go read domestic electronics it's so so good it's one of my favourite fics ever written

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kpopfanfictrash · 3 years

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Raise the Barre (Ch. 7)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: mention of vomit, intense physical training, blood blisters

Word Count: 6,829

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

Fifteen minutes later, Jimin pulled to a stop at the edge of the curb.

Stepping from the sidewalk, you hastened to the passenger side and opened the door. Your wait had mostly been uneventful, but you hated standing alone in the dark for any longer than necessary. Sliding into the passenger seat, you pulled the door shut and turned sideways to face him.

“Thanks,” you exhaled, seeing him for the first time tonight.

Jimin looked sleepy, as though your call had woken him up – which it probably had, since it was near 1:30 AM. Yesterday when you spoke, Jimin had said he planned on going to bed early. He was dressed in what Noelle would’ve called a groutfit – grey sweats, grey hoodie and silver-framed glasses. You blinked at these, not having realized Jimin wore contacts.

“No problem.” Jimin stifled a yawn. “Seat belt.”

“Huh?”

“Put on your seat belt.” He nodded at the strap by your side.

“Oh – right.” Hastily, you pulled this across your chest. “Thanks.”

Silence fell as you did, the awkwardness increasing with each passing second. Usually, you were better about things like car safety, but everything about this moment felt surreal. Jimin had given you his number barely twenty-four hours prior – you highly doubted this was what he had in mind when he said he’d call.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, unsure what to do.

Jimin’s lips twitched. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

Glancing his way, you found Jimin’s profile dimly lit by the streetlights. He sat spread-legged in the driver’s seat; one hand placed casually on the shift. When he caught you looking, Jimin arched a brow and shifted the car into drive.

Pulling from the curb, he merged into traffic headed away from the club. As the bright lights of Excelsior disappeared into the rearview mirror, the cars on the road became few and far between. You drove in silence, city lights striping Jimin’s profile in black and white.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Is everything okay?” Jimin asked, too casual to be normal.

It took you a moment to answer.

Usually, you would’ve responded yes even if it weren’t the case, since no one truly wanted to hear about your problems. Asking someone how are you? in the city was the same as a nod hello. It wasn’t genuine interest in another person’s well-being.

Tonight though, your usual responses caught in your throat. Tonight, you felt tired, frayed and dangerously thin at the seams.

Everything was not okay, and you weren’t sure how to say otherwise. Your usual walls had been torn, leaving you with this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your fight with Finn had been a big one, even worse than the argument a few weeks ago.

Still, Jimin was a newer friend to you – if you could even call him that. It wasn’t fair to unload all your problems on him. Especially at such a late hour and especially not when he was the one doing you a favor.

“Yeah,” you said at last. “Everything’s fine.”

Jimin paused, as though he knew this to be bullshit.

“Let me rephrase,” he said, shifting in his seat. “Anyone’s ass I should kick?”

You laughed a little, surprised by his threat. “No, no,” you said, shaking your head. “Nothing like that.”

“Good.” Jimin’s smile faded. “So, what happened then? How’d you get stranded?”

He didn’t ask why you called him, but the implication was clear in his voice. Honestly, it was a question you had no good answer to. All you knew was when you were standing on the curb, staring at your phone and wondering who to call, Jimin was one of the first people to pop into your mind.

“I was out with my boyfriend,” you sighed. “I said I’d go to the club with him and his friends, but it got late and we have class tomorrow, so I told Finn I wanted to leave. He… didn’t.” Pausing, you swallowed. “I ended up leaving, but I didn’t realize the trains had stopped running. Uber surcharge was ridiculous, too.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s grip on the wheel tightened.

“Anyways.” You slouched lower in his seat. “You’re the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah. Right.”

Curious, you glanced sideways. Although Jimin was responding in one-word answers, they seemed somehow loaded, as though they contained hidden meaning. Even his profile seemed cautious, full of a tension you couldn’t quite place.

Jimin frowned. “Your boyfriend just… let you leave like that?”

“He didn’t let me,” you said as you straightened. “I can make my own decisions, Park.”

“I know, I just…”

“You just what, Park? Spit it out.”

“I don’t know.” Jimin shrugged. “It just seems kind of cold. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well.” Truth be told, it seemed cold to you, too. “I’m not exactly… thrilled with the situation, either. He turned off his phone,” you muttered, turning to face the window.

In the reflection, you saw Jimin grimace.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“What for?”

“That just sucks, that’s all.”

“Yeah. It does suck.”

Jimin made an indiscernible noise of agreement before lapsing into silence.

It was strange to be in a car with him at this late an hour; oddly intimate for a multitude of reasons you pushed aside.

The last time you’d seen Jimin dressed so casually had been when you walked in on him with Sabrina. It had been nearly a month since then, but you hadn’t heard any gossip of them being together on campus.

Maybe this was something you could’ve asked Jimin, but it wasn’t like you had that type of relationship. Sure, you were ballet partners and sure, you’d been getting along lately, but you didn’t usually interact outside of class. Yet another line you’d crossed by calling Jimin tonight.

Thus far, you’d mostly managed to keep Finn and Russet separate. Noelle had met Finn a couple of times – you’d gone to dinner once and gotten coffee together another time, but otherwise, nothing. Finn wouldn’t have wanted to come to one of your Grace Hall rom-com marathons or take a pilates class on Sunday morning.

Mixing personal life and dance felt strange to you, as though two separate halves of yourself were colliding. It was odd to see Jimin outside of Russet’s walls. He seemed more at ease in his car, like the lines of him had blurred more from dancer to person.

Something about the nighttime made things seem fuzzier. Tired from the day and just beginning to thaw from the cold, you found your lips and mind looser than usual.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Jimin said, interrupting the silence. “But I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.”

With a humorless sort of laugh, you turned to face him. “Yeah, well. I do.”

“Huh.”

Hearing his skepticism, you insisted, “I do!”

“I believe you!” Jimin chuckled. He paused. “Is it new, then? I don’t remember anyone coming to watch your dance competitions in high school.”

Warmth spread through your body, realizing Jimin must’ve kept tabs. He’d watched you at dance competitions. He knew your usual crowd of supporters.

“Finn isn’t new,” you said slowly. “He just didn’t come to a lot of competitions. They got repetitive, you know? Lots of waiting around for three minutes of watching me dance.”

“I guess.” Jimin shrugged. “I used to go to my ex’s tennis tournaments all the time, though. That was the same thing, except no AC.”

“Right,” you laughed. “You’re right, at least our competitions had air conditioning.”

Jimin turned on his blinker to switch lanes. Pulling onto a side street, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Another moment passed, and then –

“We broke up before college.”

Surprised, you glanced in his direction. “Oh. Okay.”

You stared at his profile, wondering if you were supposed to say something more. You could think of many questions to ask, but they didn’t seem appropriate coming from you. You hadn’t realized Jimin was dating someone in high school – although, come to think of it, you did seem to remember a blonde girl cheering for him in the audience at Applause Dance Competition.

“It seemed like time,” Jimin continued quietly. “She went to a school across the country and we just never assumed we’d stay together. That sounds bad,” he said with a half-laugh. “I kind of figured though, if we were meant to be, we’d figure it out. The fact that we didn’t try spoke volumes.”

“That makes sense. Honestly,” you said with a sigh. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if me and Finn had been long distance.”

As soon as the words left your lips, you blinked. The statement hung before you in mid-air, forcing you to consider it for the first time.

This wasn’t something you’d allowed yourself to imagine before; what would’ve happened if you’d gone to a different school. Going to college so close to Finn had just seemed like a sign. You didn’t have the college break-up talk because you’d simply assumed you didn’t need to.

“Yeah.” Jimin sighed. “It’s hard, right? Everything is changing so quickly. You want things to stay the same, but isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Change. Grow. I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Everyone keeps telling me change isn’t a bad thing.”

“Sure seems like it, sometimes,” you said softly.

Jimin nodded. After a moment, he reached out for the stereo. A familiar song filled his car and something uncertain unfurled in your stomach. You weren’t sure what you were even talking about anymore – change was a dangerous topic without Finn around.

When the chorus of the song kicked in, you smiled.

“I love this song,” you said, turning to Jimin. “I almost choreographed my solo to it senior year.”

“Really?” Jimin glanced at you in surprise. “Same.”

“No way!” you laughed. “Wow – that would’ve been awkward. Imagine if we’d both had the same solo.”

“It would’ve made us even more competitive.”

“Not possible.”

“You’re probably right.” Jimin smiled. “We were really at each other’s throats for a while, weren’t we?”

“Yeah, we were.”

Settling back in your seat, you couldn’t help but frown.

Something about this statement bothered you, although you couldn’t put a finger on what. Maybe it was what Jimin had said yesterday about your mutual competition pushing each other forward. Maybe it had something to do with that night in Danley Hall, when Jimin stopped by and said he loved watching you dance.

If you really stopped and thought about it, Jimin was the sole constant in your dancing career. Every year, at every dance competition, you’d make sure you were available to watch Jimin’s solo. You told yourself this was because he was your competition but really, you just loved watching him dance.

You could remember the cool air of the theatre as you snuck in, sinking into a plush, velvet chair and hoping you wouldn’t be seen. You’d loved watching Jimin near the front, close enough to see his facial expressions but not close enough to be seen from the stage.

If your solos were close to one another in timing, you tended to watch Jimin from the wings. This had been a different kind of intimacy, hidden behind the first leg while you watched him dance. Lights dim, you recalled Jimin’s silhouette while he would walk to center. The opening notes of his music would sound, and you’d stifle a shiver while you watched him, entranced.

As it turned out, Jimin had been watching your solos as well, but you hadn’t known this for some time. Not until he’d told you the other night.

Suddenly, you turned in your seat. “You know I think you’re talented, right?” you blurted. “There was a reason I was always trying to beat you.”

Jimin’s brows shot up so high, they nearly met his hairline.

“I – uh, no,” he said. “You’ve never said that to me before. In fact, you kind of said the opposite. You told me the only reason I won was because I’m a guy.”

Hearing your words thrown back in your face, heat began to creep up your neck.

“Listen, about that –”

“I’m kidding.” Jimin shot you a smile. “It’s fine, Y/N.”

“I – okay.”

“Look, I know men have an advantage in the dance world.” Returning his gaze to the road, Jimin’s smile disappeared. “I’m not dumb. I know we have higher centers of gravity, and all that. It’s just… you’re also talented, Y/N. People love to watch you dance, myself included. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Staring at him over the console, you felt oddly moved by this speech.

It was strange; many people in your life had called you talented. Your parents, your teachers and Finn, of course. Each of those compliments had meant something to you, but this one felt different. It felt different coming from Jimin – more important, somehow.

Maybe it was because you admired him most of all. The realization didn’t shock you as much as it probably should’ve.

“Thanks,” you said quietly.

Jimin nodded, continuing to scan the road. His car was clean, you realized as you glanced around. There were no water bottles on the floor, no napkins hastily stuffed into the glove compartment. The only sign of being lived-in was a keychain dangling over the dashboard; a small, plastic photo frame with two people inside.

“My parents,” Jimin explained, noticing where you looked.

“Oh,” you said, bending a bit closer. “They look nice.”

He laughed, unable to help it. “I’ve always thought so. My dad is the one who encouraged me to be a dancer, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Fondly, Jimin smiled. “He’s always loved music. When I was a baby, he loved to hold me and jump around the living room to songs on the radio. My mom has tons of videos of it.”

You smiled at the image. “That sounds adorable.”

“And embarrassing. My dad’s not that great a dancer.”

Without meaning to, you snorted.

Hearing this, Jimin’s smile widened. “When I started memorizing all the dances I saw on TV, my dad convinced my mom to put me in classes. Things kind of spiraled from there.”

“That’s nice,” you said, settling down in his seat. “My parents have always been my biggest supporters, too.”

Jimin nodded, about to respond but then a blast of AC hit you and you shivered. You’d nearly forgotten what you were wearing – or more accurately, what you weren’t wearing. The thin tank top you had on did little to hide the bare skin underneath.

Jimin’s gaze darted sideways. “Are you cold?” he asked, reaching out for the heat. “You can have my hoodie in the backseat, if you want.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay.” Hastily, you untied your cardigan from around your waist. “I have this,” you said, sliding both arms into the sleeves. “Completely forgot about it.”

Silently, Jimin nodded – and then his lips twitched.

“What?” you demanded.

“Nothing!” He shook his head, fighting to keep his face even. “It’s just… you wore a cardigan out to the club?”

Glancing down, you felt your cheeks begin to heat again. “Yes,” you said, somewhat defensive as you looked up. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just, you know.” He paused. “My grandma has that sweater.”

“Well, your grandma sounds like a cool lady.”

“Without a doubt,” Jimin assured. “Not much of a clubber, though.”

Leaning your head to the window, you smiled. “That makes two of us then.”

You knew the city well enough by now to recognize you were only a few blocks from Grace Hall. Somehow, you found yourself not wanting the car ride to end. Talking to Jimin outside of dance practice was nice – even fun, you realized with some surprise.

It was a shame it’d taken you so long to recognize this.

“Seriously, though.” Jimin laughed. “Clubs can be a good time! There’s dancing, there’s music… rumor has it you like dancing.”

“Not that kind of dancing,” you sighed. “That kind of dancing is just a dry version of a lap dance for people who don’t know what to do with their hips.”

Jimin hid behind a smile. “Ouch, on behalf of your boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Straightening, you glanced at him in alarm. “That’s not – I didn’t mean…”

Stricken, you realized the obviousness of what you had said. Forget about your face heating, your entire body felt like an inferno. You had just told Jimin, in so many words, that Finn didn’t know what to do with his hips.

Jimin waved this admission aside. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’ll forget what I heard the instant I get home. Up until tonight, I didn’t know the guy existed, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, settling back in your seat.

Rather than reassure you, this only gave you further pause.

It didn’t seem possible Jimin hadn’t known about Finn. Racking your brains, you tried to think of a time they would’ve crossed paths – only to come up short. Finn hadn’t ever stopped by the studio to pick you up, he hadn’t ever come to mutual hangouts with your Russet friends. Admittedly, Jimin had only recently started attending the same ones as you, but it still seemed unthinkable.

You and Finn had been dating for over two years. Finn’s name should have come up at some point and yet, it hadn’t.

Before you could respond, Jimin pulled to a stop outside your dorm. Glancing over the console, he smiled and again, you were struck by the image.

With his grey sweats, mussed hair and those glasses – you swallowed. It was a side of Jimin you hadn’t seen and something about the visual made your stomach lurch. Before you could launch into full-blown panic, Jimin raised a brow.

“Here you are,” he said with a grandiose wave. “Home sweet home.”

Glancing past him, you took in the steps of Grace Hall.

“Thanks,” you said, pushing open the door. Before exiting the car, you paused and looking over your shoulder. “Seriously, Jimin, thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten home without you.”

In the darkness, you saw his expression soften.

“Anytime,” Jimin said.

You could tell he meant it. There was something to his gaze which made you nod. Jimin wasn’t the type to mince words or say things he didn’t mean. Just like when he said he loved your dancing, you knew Jimin was telling the truth. When he said anytime, he meant it.

Nodding, you resumed exiting the car. Waving goodbye, you stood on the curb until he was out of sight.

Once Jimin disappeared, you sighed and turned towards the building. Grace Hall was silent this late at night – it was nearly 2:00 AM and again, you were thankful Jimin had answered his phone. As you let yourself in and climbed the steps to your room, your thoughts began to race with all the what-ifs.

What-if Jimin hadn’t answered, what-if you’d had to walk home alone, or walk to find a cab. Pressing your eyes shut, you shooed these thoughts away. None of that had actually happened, so it wasn’t worth worrying about.

As soon as you got upstairs, you stepped in the shower – the stickiness of that girl’s drink continued to linger on your skin. After changing into fresh pajamas and brushing your teeth, you wearily climbed into bed. The last thing you did before falling asleep was call Finn again in case he’d returned home.

His phone went straight to voicemail though and, with a sinking stomach, you rolled over in bed and turned off the light.

After sleeping until the last possible moment, you managed to roll yourself out of bed around seven the next morning. This only left fifteen minutes before you needed to leave and even then, you felt like a zombie as you rushed out the door.

Grabbing coffee at the place down the street, you and Noelle entered class with barely ten minutes to spare. Jimin was already present but he was talking to Louis, so you stuck to your side and didn’t interrupt. You wanted to thank him again for his help, but all this flew out the window when a familiar woman followed Mr. Vlad into the classroom.

“Class.” Mr. Vlad set his things down by the window. “You remember Anna Hodelle, I presume – principal dancer at the New York City Ballet. She’s in town for a different master class and has graciously agreed to lead ballet this morning.”

The news was simultaneously exciting and nerve-wracking. Anna had taught a master class several weeks prior which left you sore for days following. Her classes were exciting though, and she was Anna Hodelle, one of the youngest principal dancers for the New York City Ballet in at least forty years – so there was that.

Her introduction didn’t require any response. Scrambling into place at the barre, the class waited while Anna shed her warm-ups and Mr. Vlad left the room. As soon as the music began, you found yourself grateful you hadn’t drunk the night prior.

Similar to her last master class, you found Miss Anna relentless in her pursuit of perfection. Her expectations were high and as a result, everyone gave their best effort – and then some. By the time you broke for water, no less than three students had already run for the bathroom.

It wasn’t pretty, but vomiting was something which happened with dance. Class could be such a grueling workout that occasionally, younger students pushed themselves past their limits. If you ate a big meal before practice, it was increasingly likely you might throw it up after.

You could count on two hands the number of times this had happened to you in high school. There had been some days you practiced so hard, sweat ran down your forehead and blinded your vision. On other days, the floor was so slippery, your bare feet couldn’t grasp the floorboards. Dance, despite being hailed for grace and glamour, tended to be exactly the opposite.

One of your teachers used to say you weren’t using your muscles if they weren’t shaking by the end. Ballerinas were seen as delicate, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Ballet only looked effortless – this was a carefully cultivated image for the audience. At all times, all muscles in a ballerina’s body were engaged, yet even when sweat dripped down her brow, she had to smile.

You’d seen dancers finish their combination, give a sweeping bow, walk gracefully offstage and vomit into the nearest trash can. Everything was for show, everything was for the audience – one of your favorite parts about dance was knowing the brutal behind-the-scenes effort everything took. It made you appreciate the final product all the more.

By the end of class you were exhausted but happy, wiping sweat from your brow while you applauded the teacher. After Anna’s dismissal, you immediately exhaled and trudged towards your bag. Noelle chattered on about a TV show you were watching, reminding you to catch up before Monday.

As you picked up your bag, you felt its front pocket vibrate. Fishing inside for your phone, you pulled this out and felt your eyes widen.

Five missed calls and eight missed texts. Once you opened your phone, you saw they were all from Finn.

Finn: hey [8:18 AM]

Finn: Y/N, I’m so sorry [8:19 AM]

Finn: I don’t know if you’re ignoring me because you’re angry, or if you’re in class right now [8:25 AM]

Finn: you’re probably in class [8:30 AM]

Finn: if you’re not though, please call me back [8:31 AM]

Finn: fuck [9:01 AM]

Finn: I was such an ass last night, Y/N. I’m sorry [9:03 AM]

Finn: … please call me [9:35 AM]

With each text you read, you felt your heart sink. Up until this point, you’d gotten through class by pretending last night hadn’t happened. Now though, you were forced to remember every detail of the night prior.

Finn had left you at the club.

He’d stormed away from your fight, turned off his phone and left you alone. Each time you remembered the night, your fury only grew. This morning when you woke, you’d still been pissed off – even more so, when you turned on your phone and saw zero texts from Finn.

Had your roles been reversed, you never would’ve done the same to him. Sure, it had been a bad fight but who did that? Just took off in the middle of a conversation and shut everything down. The worst part was him turning off his phone. As soon as things didn’t go as planned, Finn simply washed his hands of you.

That was what hurt most of all, the shame burrowing deep into the crevices of your heart.

Beneath everything was a strange twinge of guilt at having called Jimin to pick you up. This was easily brushed aside, though – Finn had left you stranded. If anyone had a right to be mad here, it was you.

“Y/N? You okay?”

Noelle’s voice pulled you from your reverie. Blinking, you lowered your phone and realized you were alone. The rest of the room had cleared out after class – this probably wasn’t the first time Noelle had said your name.

“Shit, sorry!” Hastily, you shoved your phone in your bag. “Yeah… yeah, everything’s fine.”

Noelle gave you a look. “Really?”

After a moment, you sighed. “No,” you said, turning to walk towards the door. “Why pretend? It’s Finn.”

Following you from the classroom, Noelle fell into step alongside you.

“He’s not hurt, is he?” she said carefully.

“Unfortunately, not.”

Noelle snorted. “Okay, so he’s in the doghouse.”

“Yep.”

“Want to talk about it?”

At the top of the stairs, you paused. “Finn and I got in a fight last night,” you admitted. “He wanted to stay at the club, and I wanted to go home – so he told me to leave. I did, but then I realized I had no way to get there.”

Noelle’s mouth dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me? He just… left you there? Wow. The next time I see your ‘boyfriend,’ I’m going to – wait,” she said, pulling up short. “How did you get home, then?”

“I – uh, well… Jimin picked me up.”

Noelle stared at you a moment longer. “Huh. Didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I,” you said, beginning to walk down the stairs. “Finn turned his cell phone off, so I couldn’t get ahold of him and by then, the trains stopped running. Uber was surging and Jimin is the only person I know with a car, so…”

“Ah, gotcha. That makes sense.” Noelle nodded. “Nice of him to come get you.”

“Yeah, it was nice. Anyways, Finn’s been texting me all morning.”

“Oh!” Noelle groaned. “That was your phone! I kept hearing something vibrating while I was waiting to go across the floor.”

“Yep, that was him,” you said glumly. “Apparently he’s sorry.”

“Of course, he is.”

“He said he was an ass last night.”

“Of course, he did.”

“… I’m still pissed at him.”

“Of course, you are!” Noelle cried, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Listen, tell him you got home alright – not that he deserves that much, mind you – but you need some time to cool off. He can wait until you’re ready to talk, right?”

Nodding, you saw sense in what she was saying. “You’re right.”

Despite Noelle making sense though, part of you didn’t want to wait.

Part of you wanted to call Finn back right now and give him a piece of your mind, but you knew if you did that, things wouldn’t end well. He deserved to be cussed out, but you were completely exhausted. The idea of fighting with your boyfriend left you feeling drained.

Noelle was right – Finn could wait until you were ready to talk, whenever that was.

Pulling out your phone a second time, you texted Finn you were safe and that you’d talk when you were ready. Once he responded okay, you shoved your phone in your pocket.

Noelle looked sympathetically on. “Why don’t we have a girl’s night?” she said, arm back around your shoulder. “We can invite Irene and Ari and just watch dumb movies and eat brownie batter in fancy lingerie. You know, like every guy’s sleepover porn fantasy.”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. “Sounds like a plan,” you said with a grin. “God, what would I do without you?”

“Be super bored, probably.”

You snorted, but the thought stuck in your mind as you left the building. It really would be awful without Noelle by your side. Without meaning to, your thoughts strayed to Sabrina. Aside from Katie and Allison, you had no idea who she hung out with.

It had to be lonely for someone like her. Russet was intense enough without a support system. You quickly pushed these feelings aside – even if Sabrina was lonely, she had no one to blame but herself. You’d offered the olive branch enough times by now to know when to stop.

“I guess only one question remains,” you said slowly.

Noelle glanced your way. “Oh, yeah? What?”

“How dumb are the dumb movies we’re watching? Like, From Justin to Kelly dumb – where it’s a guilty pleasure? Or, more like The Kissing Booth dumb – where things are just bad dumb.”

“Why choose?” Noelle shrugged. “Let’s do both!”

“Deal!”

As you climbed the steps to Grace Hall, you continued to ignore Finn’s texts in your bag. He could wait until tomorrow, at least. After what he put you through, a single night of not knowing what you were thinking seemed appropriate.

When you finally gave in and called Finn the next day, you weren’t sure what you were hoping for. Finn had already texted his apology, so at least he knew he’d been in the wrong. As to what degree he was aware, you didn’t know, but you got a fairly good idea once he picked up the phone.

Short answer: very wrong.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Finn blurted, as though afraid you might cut him off. “I was such an ass to you Friday night. I – I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know where to start. I fucked up so bad, Y/N and I’m sorry.”

Silence followed this outburst as you frowned, leaning back on the bed.

Noelle had graciously left the room to study at the coffee shop on the corner. Secretly, you knew this was mostly to flirt with the barista, Namjoon, but you couldn’t begrudge her for that. Namjoon did have the most adorable dimples you’d ever seen.

Focusing your thoughts on Finn, you played with a stray thread of your sheets. “I mean… that’s a good start, I guess,” you muttered. “But what are you really sorry for, Finn?”

His sigh was soft. “Everything.”

“Specifics would be good.”

“I was drunk,” he exhaled. “That’s not an excuse, but… I honestly don’t remember everything that I said to you. I remember the gist of it though, and I know it was terrible. I know you didn’t deserve it.”

You remained silent, even though you agreed with him.

“I wanted to stay out,” he continued. “That doesn’t really matter, though. I was a dick. I was stubborn and angry, and I took that out on you. You’re the last person I would ever want to hurt, and I just… I left you. Something could’ve happened to you. God, if something had happened, Y/N…”

Finn trailed off and you heard his voice crack but forced yourself to stay silent. Hearing him break was hard, but you reminded yourself what you’d felt Friday night – all the anger and terror when he completely disappeared.

This memory hardened you enough not to melt at his apology.

“Yeah, well,” you said tightly. “You’re right – something could’ve happened. The trains weren’t running and Uber was crazy expensive. I couldn’t get back in the club. I ended up waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes before someone came to pick me up.”

“Fuck.” Finn sounded strangled. “Fuck… Y/N, I’m sorry…”

In your mind, you envisioned him shoving a hand through his hair. Finn did that when he was stressed or upset and right now, he sounded a little of both.

“Yeah.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Who picked you up?”

Immediately, you stiffened. “Do you seriously think you deserve an answer to that?”

“No, no, I – you’re right, it doesn’t matter. Thank them for me, okay?”

You remained silent and again, Finn sighed.

“Are you… are we going to be okay?”

It was a loaded question. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the wall. In all honesty, you didn’t know the answer to that.

On the one hand, you loved Finn. That hadn’t changed. On the other hand, it was becoming more and more apparent your problems weren’t going away. It would be foolish to pretend otherwise – but all couples had problems, didn’t they?

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think a break-up should be more obvious than this. A break-up should be something big, something irreversible. You were beginning to wonder though, at what point were problems considered insurmountable. Everything about this seemed grey and right now, you really needed black and white answers.

Both your lives were changing, as Jimin had said. Freshman year was a cacophony of change; in order to succeed, you and Finn needed to learn to grow with each other. Hiccups were to be expected, bumps in the road were to be expected, but if you wanted to stay together, you needed to learn how to fight for this relationship.

“I think so,” you said, opening your eyes. “I think we’ll be okay. I just… Finn, you really hurt me that night.”

“I know.”

“It can’t happen again.”

“It won’t.”

“You know… I want to spend time with you, right?”

“I… do.”

He paused for longer than you would’ve liked, but you brushed past it. “I know you like going to clubs and all that,” you said. “But that’s not really me. Maybe next time we can do something different. Something a little more low-key.”

“Yeah.” Finn chuckled. “That sounds nice, honestly.”

“Good.”

“At least my friends really liked you.”

Taken aback, you snorted. “Oh, come on, Finn. I was barely there.”

“I’m being serious! Ben told me he thinks you’re funny.”

“Ben,” you groaned. “Has all the humor of a wet sock.”

Finn laughed and this time, it sounded like him. His laugh had been watery before, a restrained version but now, his true mirth broke free. As soon as the sound hit your ears, you began to relax. Truthfully, you hadn’t been sure things would be okay until then. Hearing him laugh, you knew Finn meant it. He wanted this, too.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “Ben sucks, but at least he has the taste to know that you don’t. Next time, we’ll do something more fun.”

“Next time,” you agreed.

“Next time.”

Despite your conversation having gone as well as it possibly could’ve, uncertainty continued to linger in the back of your mind.

You spent Sunday evening watching TV, but still slept restlessly before your class the next morning. Mr. Vlad’s ballet was definitely not one you wanted to arrive at ill-rested, but Monday you showed up with bags under your eyes.

You tried to push all negative thoughts from mind while warming up at the barre. By the time class broke for water, you were feeling marginally better. Ballet was soothing that way. The repetitiveness of barre helped to put things in perspective. Your ankle had almost completely healed by this point and now, two weeks after the fall, your technique had finally begun to improve.

No longer were you the last one to catch onto combinations and Mr. Vlad only yelled once about your turnout at barre. This was a marked improvement from the start of the year and although you still were far from the top, you felt relatively good about your standing. You had a feeling once you and Jimin began to practice, the moves would come even easier.

The first combination at center was a slow adagio. It wasn’t particularly difficult aside from a lift in the middle, but despite the familiarity of the moves, Jimin was being oddly hesitant.

Mr. Vlad showed the combination with his dance assistant, Mina. After they demonstrated a particularly difficult lift, they gave everyone time to practice – which, in your and Jimin’s case, turned out to be necessary.

“Ladies, pique to arabesque!” Mr. Vlad called from the front. “Lift your leg higher and – the man lifts! He walks you in a promenade. Then you’re lowered, exhale – and bourrée!”

Brian immediately raised his hand for help, so Mr. Vlad left to assist in his corner. The lift was proving itself to be tricky – it required most of your weight balanced against Jimin’s side while he gripped your thigh, lifting you up.

You and Jimin began to practice, but no matter what you did, nothing seemed to be working. After the fourth failed attempt where Jimin nearly dropped you on your ass, you shakily landed and whirled around.

“Alright,” you said, both hands on your hips. “What’s going on?”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how’re you supposed to lift me if you’re barely touching me? Look at Sabrina and Paulo!” you said, gesturing in their direction. “He’s got his whole fucking hand under her leg!”

Jimin’s cheeks turned red. “I – uh, right. Yeah. Let’s try it again.”

Staring at him another moment, you nodded and returned to your spot. Jimin settled into fifth position, jaw clenched and looking as though he were in pain. You stared at him in the mirror, considering calling him out before thinking better of it.

Taking a deep breath, you piqued into arabesque. Leaning your weight to Jimin, he reached again for your thigh – only to falter, leaving you hanging.

“Jimin!” you half-laughed as you slipped down his leg.

“I’m sorry!” Jimin blurted, stepping away. Looking thoroughly distraught, he shoved both hands through his hair. “It’s just… well, I…”

“It’s just what?”

“You have a boyfriend,” he said, a bit pained.

In response to this, both your eyebrows shot up. That had not been the answer you’d expected.

“I… okay?” you said, failing to grasp the point. “So what?”

“So.” Jimin glanced furtively around. “I don’t know, it’s just weird! I don’t want to… overstep my boundaries, or anything.”

“But…” You stared. “I had a boyfriend last week and it wasn’t a problem.”

“Okay, but last week I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Again, you looked at him as though he was crazy.

“This is stupid,” you said, stepping closer. “Ballet is our job, Jimin. It’s the least sexy occupation on the planet. Right now, I’m bleeding from three different blisters inside my pointe shoes. I’m sure my deodorant has long worn off by now. Would you just fucking get over yourself and grab my thigh?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “Well. When you put it like that.”

“I am putting it like that,” you said with a grin. “Now, let’s go again.”

Nodding, Jimin followed when you walked backwards. Taking another deep breath, you piqued to arabesque and this time, Jimin didn’t flinch when your weight transitioned to his. Hand sliding beneath your thigh, he lifted you easily into a promenade.

As soon as you turned your head, you caught Jimin’s gaze and felt – something.

Something other than the white noise of the room. Something other than the thud-thud of your heart, other than the music on the stereo and Mr. Vlad yelling counts from the corner.

Despite what you had just finished saying, something unknown seemed to bloom in your chest. In the middle of the lift – blood blisters and all – you felt an errant spark where Jimin’s front pressed to yours.

You barely had time to recognize this before the moment was gone. Slowing his walk, Jimin set you back down – and you wobbled.

This time it had nothing to do with his technique.

“Ah, shit.” Jimin frowned. “That’s my bad – I can do better! Let’s try it again.”

Nodding, you felt a bit wooden as you followed in his footsteps. When Mr. Vlad started the music, you fought the surging tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm. It had been nothing, you told yourself. Nothing of importance, anyways.

Shoving whatever you’d felt in a box, you pushed this to a corner of your mind and firmly shut the door. Forcing a smile to your lips, you lifted your chin as you began the combination.

It was lucky everyone else found you a talented performer, since beneath all your smiling, all you could think about was what was hidden in the box.

Something unknown, something tentative – and something which could be dangerous, if it ever came to light.

Author’s Note: I was so close to re-writing this chapter with Mr. Vlad picking her up LOL just kidding, but thank you for reading! 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre are posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin writing #bts writing #jimin au #jimin series #bts au #bts series #jimin dance au #bts dance au #jimin e2l #bts e2l

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sneezefiction · 3 years

Text

untouchable | vii

Atsumu x Reader

desc: in which an accidental run-in with pro volleyball player, Atsumu Miya, at a 7/11 leads to a strangers-to-lovers situation… but the catch is, you have no idea that he’s famous.

warnings: slight language, anxiety

wc: 3.2k

part 6 ⚬ part 7 ⚬ part 8 (coming soon)

untouchable m.list

—

“Here ya go.”

Osamu sets down a small cup of water, letting it clink against the bar’s granite surface. There’s no ice in it, but you can tell by the condensation on the glass that it’s cold. Osamu tosses a plastic straw toward you and it lands conveniently right next to your cup.

Throwing him a quick smile, you reach to take a sip but pause when you hear the click and gentle hiss of a drink can.

You’d know that sound anywhere.

It’s a reminder of street vending machines and roadside shops. Of summer walks on hot pebbled pathways and after-class escapades with old high-school friends.

But, just to be sure, you glance over to study the object in the hands of the man next to you.

Yes, you confirm, Miya Atsumu has indeed brought a can of green tea into his brother’s restaurant. And, yes, you are quite amused.

You choke down the rising laughter in your chest, though you can’t hide the small smile creeping onto your lips. This is the dorkiest thing you think you’ve ever seen on a not-date before.

“Where the hell were you hiding that?” You tilt your head, leaning toward him to get a closer look at the drink.

“You’ll see.” Completely unfazed, he reaches for his coat, which hangs on the back of the chair, and digs into the pocket…

And, if what you’re seeing is true, he’s just fished out a second can. The paper covering the aluminum has a pink, floral print and reads, “Matcha-” but his thumb covers the rest of the lettering.

“What? Did you want one?” Atsumu tilts his head and places the can next to your water glass.

You stare at it, curious about two things.

The first thing being his massive fucking pockets. They must be something of a void for him to fit two whole cans in the same pouch. Well, it’s more like you assume they were contained in a single pocket. Otherwise, you would’ve noticed a sloshing, aluminum object bumping up against your side as you two walked arm-in-arm.

The second thing that struck you is that he actually thought to bring two. Did he plan on drinking both? Was it originally for his brother? Or did he intend to offer you one right from the start?

You do happen to like this brand of tea.

Atsumu leans back into his chair, tossing an arm over the back of the seat. “My friend tells me it’s good for digestion,” he explains and takes a sip.

“My digestion is just fine, thanks. You can keep it.”

Your eyes crease in mirth. He has some interesting friends, that’s for sure. And why does he care about digestion? He’s fit and muscular and... is he constipated or something?

Yeah, that’s not something you should ask about.

“I’m gonna try not to imagine what else you could be hiding in those pockets,” you say, twisting your face in concern and pinching your eyebrows together.

Atsumu grimaces, shifting in his seat. “Did ya have to say it like that?”

“I think I have every right to say it like that. You could be a freak for all I know.”

“Um, I think it’s entirely possible that you’re the freak here.” He shoots right back at you through mock-judgmental eyes.

Your jaw drops in amused surprise. You shove his arm playfully, but his balance hardly wavers. He grins in response, golden eyes glimmering. Your hand lingers briefly as you mimic his smile, but you notice and drop it quickly.

“Gettin’ comfortable now aren’t we?”

A faint flush dances across your skin. Maybe you were being a little touchy… but flirting hasn’t been this fun in so long. Anyway, he was the one who had you walking arm-in-arm with him earlier.

That thought alone makes your heart jump.

You look away, grasping the straw in your glass and twirling it around. “You got all comfy first,” is all you can huff out.

“Well, yeah.” Atsumu places an elbow on the table and props his chin up with his hand, “I mean, this is a date isn’t it?” He takes another sip of his drink, acting as though what he said wasn’t headline news.

Huh?

So apparently this whole not-a-date but possibly-a-date situation had an obvious answer… to Atsumu that is. It still felt about as clear as rocket science to you though.

“Is it?” The words flow from your lips before you can stop them.

He blinks. “Hm.”

You swallow, “Is this a date?”

He gestures a hand at the two of you, “I mean... I thought it was.”

Well, yes. You’re both sitting across from each other. Neither of you knows the other well. Atsumu had taken you to his brother’s restaurant.

Everything that’s happened in the past hour screams, “date.”

And, yet, it’s all too strange.

Suddenly the wooden barstool is much less comfortable. You readjust, crossing your dangling legs. You can hear every uneven as it leaves your body - hopefully his ears aren’t too keen.

Did you really change the atmosphere with just a few words?

Should you have assumed that this was a date from the beginning? But you were protecting yourself…

Thank God Osamu is in the back right now. You don’t think you could handle someone else (especially your date’s brother) hearing this conversation. The embarrassment would be way too real.

“But if you’re not okay with it bein’ a date, then that’s okay.” Atsumu is quick to speak, straightening up in his chair. “I probably forgot to clarify…” He searches your gaze for any change in reaction.

Yeah, he’s probably not adept at these sorts of situations. But neither are you.

There’s a noticeable tint to his cheeks. You’re sure it must burn because your own face has already burst into flames. Great, you’ve made him feel like he’s screwed up.

Atsumu mumbles a quiet “shit” under his breath, which would’ve found funny if it weren’t for your own pounding heartbeat.

Dammit, how can you salvage this? You might as well be fanning a flame at this point. If you weren’t careful, you could burn this entire opportunity to the ground.

“Ah, that’s not what I mean,” You respond, waving your hands out in front of you, “I just- I don’t know, you never said anything about it being a date over text, so I just assumed it wasn’t. Not that I would mind it being one...”

If you keep talking, the words will only get more muddled. You clamp your mouth shut so as to not say anything ridiculous.

Suddenly, the blank wall opposite the blonde is very interesting. Maybe if you survive the next 5 minutes you’ll suggest that ‘Samu add some art pieces to soften the stark white paint. It might also make avoiding eye-contact a little easier.

Despite not wanting to face him, you can’t exactly ignore the man sitting an arm’s length away from you. You glance back to him, bracing yourself for a face wrought with confusion.

But Atsumu looks… amused? Relieved? The lines of worry on his forehead have smoothed back out.

Well, whatever emotion he’s conveying, it’s better than the ones you saw earlier.

“Alright, then how about you tell me whether you want this to be a date or not?”

You bite your lip in thought. Partly because a male has just respectfully asked you if you’d like to go on a date (a date you’re already on.) That, in itself, is a rare sight indeed.

But mostly because he actually wants to go on a date with you.

Did you really meet him only a month ago? Was he ever a stranger to you?

He’s a little too friendly for that. But friendly isn’t the right word. Atsumu is understanding. And simple… but in a good way. Things are smooth like velvet when you’re around him.

You, who’s been shit out of luck over the past few years. You, who had to frantically accept a less than ideal job after moving away from your entire support system. You, who tried to abate loneliness with blind dates and Tinder matches... but only ever ended up shoving breadsticks in a bag before escaping through the backdoor of a mediocre restaurant.

After all the tears and life changes and dating apps and heartbreak, you finally have a choice that you can make by yourself without any serious repercussions.

And it’s a simple yes or no question.

“I’m gonna say, yeah. This is a date.”

A grin that could light up the city of Tokyo spreads across his face. You don’t know why he’s so happy, but it’s making your heart do somersaults in your chest.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” He grabs his drink, taking another sip.

Even you can feel the earnest smile on your face reaching your eyes.

“So, can I ask ya somethin’?”

You sit up in silent anticipation. “Uh… sure.”

Atsumu clears his throat, looks away from you and runs a hand through the waves of his hair. Given Atsumu’s display of nerves, someone watching from the outside might think that this man was either about to break up with you or propose marriage.

Thank God it couldn’t be either of those things. But your hands clasp at your thighs anxiously anyway.

“Why’d you want to see me again?”

You find yourself holding your breath, letting his question sink in.

It’s a good question. An important question. Why exactly are you here? With him?

You’re usually better about setting your intentions before you dive into something new. Plotting out big decisions has saved your ass a multitude of times.

But this opportunity fell into your lap at the most peculiar of times.

In all honesty, you didn’t give his request too much thought. Hell, you didn’t even ask him if he’d give you time to think about your decision.

Thinking back, you really should’ve been way more careful… but you’re already here.

You lean back into your chair and meet his gaze head-on.

“Do you want an honest answer? Or would you rather me make something up?” You ask, a glimmer in your eye.

“Oh, yeah I love bein’ lied to, go right ahead.” He throws you a look through squinted eyes.

You laugh, “I’m assuming that’s sarcasm.”

“And you’d be right.” Atsumu’s chin sinks back into his hand, awaiting your honest answer.

You give yourself a moment to breathe, leaning back into your chair and relaxing your body.

It’s best to keep things brief - you’d hate to overwhelm him with your own life. And something tells you he has his own complicated shit to deal with.

“I’ve had a rough few years here and my social life is about as interesting as a brick right now.” You glance over to him, “Plus you seemed a little weird. But fun.”

This is all true. But there’s so much more you’d like to say.

Stuff like,

“You’re so easy to be around.”

“Your voice is comforting.”

“I’ve felt like shit but you’ve given me something good to think about.”

“I feel a little less lonely lately and I think it’s because of you.”

But you know that would be overstepping some major boundaries. You’d play it cool and keep your thoughts to yourself for now.

“A bit blunt, but I’ll take it.” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Hey, you’re pretty blunt yourself.” You fake a frown, but can’t suppress your smile for long.

“Okay, sure, I’m not the most tactful… but you should’ve seen me in high school.” He sighs, eyes growing fuzzy with memories.

But he’s quick to snap back to the present.

You snort. “I bet you were a hoot.”

Osamu’s voice rings from the back, “He was a lot more than that.”

So he was listening in, your cheeks burn a little at the thought.

“Oi, shaddup, ‘Samu.” He lifts his head, calling back with a playful growl in his voice.

“I have video evidence, don’t tempt me to share it,” Osamu warns, but he gets back to business.

Your eyebrows raise. Now that’d be fun to see.

He notices your curiosity but is quick to furrow his brows. “Oh, no, no. I want you to get to know me, but not that well,” Atsumu says, slightly perturbed.

“Not yet, at least.” He adds, after a few seconds.

Your eyes soften.

That makes sense.

Although, you hadn’t even expected him to show you the videos. You’d just wanted to tease him a little since that seems to be something he’s very comfortable with. You like that it’s a “not yet” instead of a “never,” though.

But instead of continuing this part of the conversation, you divert to asking his question back to him.

“Well, I think it’s your turn to tell me why you asked me out.”

And you swear you must’ve just said something ridiculous because he looks hilariously surprised. Like a deer in headlights. A jammed highway of car-headlights with the brights on full blast.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess that he hadn’t even thought about it. That or he didn’t want to tell you.

Either way, you deserve to know at least this much. You wait with your hands placed patiently in your lap and a trained indifference in your eyes.

—

Okay, so maybe he’s not the sharpest crayon in the box.

Atsumu knows he has a good reason for asking you out… he really does.

But it wasn’t the kind of reason one could eloquently verbalize. I mean, shit, what does Atsumu do that is eloquent?

It was more of a gut feeling than anything else.

But he’s sure if he told you that he wanted to date you based on “instinct” that you’d laugh and promptly flee the restaurant like a prison escapee jumping the walls holding them captive.

He pulls himself together because he’s sure you can sense his discomfort. He’s never been great at disguising his emotions - he’d only ever learned to mask them with nonchalance and angry outbursts… and that’s a no-go when it comes to the press. Atsumu had to drop those reactions like a hotcake.

“I…” he swallows but gives a wry smile, “Y’see… I live a bit of a complicated life.”

He scans your face like he’s searching for his next words within your eyes. But you’re must be a blank page because they don’t come to him.

“Okay, now, don’t go telling me you’re wanted for some sort of federal crime.” You tease him as your lips brush against your straw, lightening the atmosphere in the process.

Atsumu’s lips open to let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in. “Ah, ya got me. That’s exactly what I was gonna say.” He responds dryly.

“That’s so sad. And I really thought this was going well, too.” You hum and take a sip of water.

He clears his throat, loosening his shoulder with a stretch. For someone who’s lived most of his adult life in the limelight, he hasn’t had to talk about it much. People either know he’s famous or they don’t.

You’re so kind. You listen well. There’s something about you that he’s magnetized by. Something that continuously draws him back in.

So if you were to learn about his life and see him differently? It would be a door slamming into his face, sealing his fate to be a really fucking lonesome bachelor. Which is a funny concept until you are the lonely bachelor.

So what exactly is he supposed to tell you?

Out of habit, his hand reaches for his hair… but he freezes before he can run his fingers through it.

Because the words are coming to him like a lone flower petal drifting to the ground. Soft and solemn.

He asked you out because his chest hasn’t ached like this in so long.

The warmth you’ve brought him in such a short time flares inside of him; why should those flames to die down anytime soon?

Because when’s the last time he spoke with somebody new and felt so normal? He’d never craved simple conversation back in high school. Even in his early 20’s, he’d just been searching for quick flings and easy getaways - those were easy to manage and feelings almost never got involved.

But being with you is like honey to hot, bitter tea. Like chowing down on a hot meal when he’s hungry.

No, it’s not easy to explain, but your presence is somehow satiating to his soul. Osamu even said that he’s been “less of a dick” since he started talking with you, so that must count for something.

You don’t need to know all of that. That’d be really weird. But if you were already being honest with him (even if you hadn’t spilled your entire life’s story) then he can be honest with you.

But with this groundbreaking realization comes the hard part. Saying it out loud. And while he’s sometimes smooth in terms of flirting, he’s absolute shit at explaining himself.

The words come out slow and awkward. “I’ve been havin’ a hard time with… people.”

Okay, that’s not at all what he meant to say.

There are a million things you could’ve gleaned from that useless sentence. ‘I have a hard time with people?’ I mean, if that didn’t sound like a red flag, then what does?

“Oh, really?” Your eyes are wide and thoughtful and he swears he sees a glint of amusement flash through them.

Shit, this would be harder than he thought.

“Well, dating in particular, but that’s because my life is out of wack.” He presses on, but it only comes out worse.

Maybe he should’ve taken that communications class back in high school. It would’ve saved his ass in his interviews and, more importantly, here.

You nod along, folding your arms. “Mhmm.”

It’s both unfair and such a relief that you’re finding his verbal blunders funny.

“Okay, gimme a minute, this is comin’ out all wrong.”

“Take your time,” you smile and your eyes crinkle. “I’ll be here all night.”

But is it possible to soften what he’s about to say? To give you something to chew on rather than a bunch of information to choke on?

Being candid with you is the only fair way to do this. If he isn’t straightforward with you, you could end up getting hurt. Even being with you here at his brother’s restaurant is a risk — he should’ve thought through that decision better too. Not that he visits his brother there in person much, but it’s still not a gamble he likes to make.

Anyway, what’s done is done. He’s just got to tell you.

Atsumu sits up, resting his clenched fists on his thighs and knitting his brows together.

“Listen, I’m not sure how to tell you this…”

You shift in your seat, mouth closed and eyes fixed on his. There’s a tension in your posture, but he tries not to let it deter him.

“But I’m...”

—

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #atsumu x reader #will tag those on the tag list soon!#sorry for any grammatical issues - i'm up late and i can't see well... rly need a beta reader tbh #but i think i weeded out most mistakes?#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #atsumu scenarios #atsumu imagines #miya twins #osamu miya #hq x reader #untouchable series

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starryeyedweeb · 3 years

Text

Valentine’s Day With Jujutsu Kaisen

*DISCLAIMER*: As I’m over eighteen, I write all underaged characters aged up to be eighteen or older.

Contains: As always with me, a ridiculous amount of fluff; gender neutral

Characters Included: Gojou Satoru, Fushiguro Megumi, Itadori Yuuji

A Valentine’s Day with...

Gojou Satoru

Gojou was the type to always have a date on Valentine’s Day, but this was his first time spending it with someone he was actually committed to

As a result of this experience, he was really good at Valentine’s Day, but this time he wanted to do something he’d never done before, and make it truly special for you

He actually started preparing weeks in advance, and had to hide his YouTube history so that you wouldn’t catch on to the surprise he had in store for you

The only hint he gave you as the date drew nearer was that you’d be going somewhere with a black tie dress code

“I know it’s a cliché, but I’d love to see you in something red, dear.”

When Valentine’s Day finally arrives, you start the night off with the usual, unassuming, upscale dinner

Though he won’t give anything away, you have a sneaking feeling that there’s more to the night than Gojou is letting on

When dinner is finished, he drives the two of you to an area of town you’ve never been to before, and pulls into the lot of a dance hall

Not a nightclub- an actual ballroom

Inside, a swarm of glamorously dressed couples swirl gracefully to the romantic music, creating a dizzying yet beautiful scene

“What is this?” you nervously ask Gojou, suddenly feeling very out of place

“It’s my surprise,” he replies with a half-mischievous, half-proud grin. “I passed this ballroom while on a job, and I’ve wanted to take you here ever since. And for the past few weeks, I’ve spent my free time learning the steps so that I could bring you here and dance with you.”

“But Satoru, I don’t know the steps!”

“All you have to do is follow my lead.” He wraps his arm around your waist and leads you out onto the floor, deftly spinning you into a dance position. “It’s easier than you think, I promise.”

After a few moments of halting steps and a few trod-on toes, Gojou’s prediction turns out to be right, and you’re able to sink comfortably into the dance

The feeling of Satoru’s broad stride driving the two of you across the floor is exhilirating, and being wrapped in his arms and staring into his dazzling eyes leaves you in absolute bliss

The two of you dance for hours, giggling all the way, until you’re one of the last ones left in the ballroom

When you finally decide to call it a night, you realize just how much your feet hurt

So Gojou piggybacks you out to the car, where you nearly fall asleep

“I take it you had a good time, then?” Gojou asks cheekily, resting his hand on your thigh as he starts the engine.

“Mm,” you reply. “Can we go back?”

“We can make it our regular weekend spot if you want to.”

“Let’s do that.” You sigh happily. “Satoru? I love you.”

His fingers find your hand, and he brings it up to his mouth to kiss it.

“I love you too, baby.”

Fushiguro Megumi

Megumi had never had a reason to celebrate Valentine’s Day before, and admittedly, he was more nervous than excited for his first go at it

As a couple, the two of you were very low-key, and neither of you really had any interest in being involved in the big holiday crowd

So Megumi thought up a way to celebrate that would suit your introverted souls

“Why don’t we get out out of the city tonight?”

“I’m down for that. Where are you thinking?”

“I have something in mind.” A blush starts to dust his cheeks. “It’ll be a surprise.”

As dark starts to fall on Valentine’s night, the two of you stop by a konbini to get a multitude of your favorite snacks before hopping on the train

It’s initially packed with other couples en route to their dates, but the car gets emptier and emptier as the stops go by

You end up resting your head on Megumi’s shoulder, his arm wrapped protectively around you

“Oi, don’t fall asleep before we even get there,” he murmurs gently.

“Sorry. I’m just relaxed.” You slip one of your hands into his jacket pocket. “Are we getting close?”

“Yeah, we are.”

When the train reaches the stop for the beach, Megumi pulls you up and, with his hand in yours, guides you out of the station

He walks you all the way down to the edge of the water, spreads out a blanket, and begins to build a small bonfire

Once the flames are crackling merrily, the two of you sit down on the blanket and cozy up next to each other, another blanket wrapped around both of your shoulders

Never once breaking physical contact with each other, you stare out at the waves, sharing your snacks and having Deep Conversations About Life

Which was honestly your favorite thing to do together

As the flames get lower and lower, you have to nuzzle closer and closer for warmth and protection against the sea breeze

Eventually, your head ends up back on his shoulder, and he presses a sweet kiss to your crown

“Was this a good Valentine’s Day?” he murmurs, his breath warm on your face

“Of course.” You sigh contentedly. “It was perfect.”

Itadori Yuuji

When I tell you that Yuuji was so excited for Valentine’s Day

Pretty much the moment New Year’s was over he started talking about plans

He did some research and found out that a roller skating rink was having a special Valentine’s event, and he asked so eagerly if you wanted to go

He seemed so elated at the idea that you couldn’t have said no even if you wanted to

In preparation for the event, he looked up all of the skating videos on social media for inspiration, and arrives to pick you up looking straight out of the 70′s

When the two of you arrive at the rink and strap on your skates, it comes to no surprise to you that, even though Yuuji had never put on skates in his life, he was impossibly good at it

You, on the other hand, take a moment to find your bearings, but get the hang of it eventually

But as much as he loves you and wants to skate by your side, Yuuji is sort of annoyed with having to go slow, and wants nothing more than to speed skate around the rink

“Hey, babe. Can you grab my waist?”

“What? Why?”

“Just grab my waist. And hold on tight.”

“Yuuji, what are yo-”

Your words turn into a scream as he takes off, speeding around the rink with you trailing behind

He’s sure enough on his feet to maneuver you safely, though, and you end up dissolving into laughter at the thrill of being propelled around the rink by your ridiculously athletic boyfriend

Until the lights dim and the music changes for a designated “slow dance,” and he abruptly reduces his speed to almost nothing, causing you to ram into the back of him and knock him over

The two of you end up tangled in a giggling mess on the floor, blocking the pathways of other couples trying to skate, but you couldn’t care less

“Are you okay?” he asks through his laughs.

“Yeah, I think so,” you reply, trying to catch your breath. “What about you?”

“I’m good.” He finds his way back to his feet, and holds out a hand to help you up. “Come on. We’ll take it slow for a little bit.”

With swirling pink heart patterns lighting up the floor and a cheesy love song playing in the background, the two of you skate the perimeter of the rink, hand-in-hand

But Yuuji keeps staring at you with a silly smile on his face

“What do you keep looking at?” you finally demand, giggling

“Nothing. You’re just pretty.” He shrugs. “I feel really lucky tonight.”

You feel your heart melt a little bit, and you would’ve given him a kiss if it didn’t mean that you would fall yet again

When the music speeds back up, you request a short break so you can get something to drink

Yuuji helps you out of the rink and sits you down on a bench, then glides over to the concession stand, returning with an obnoxiously large pink slushie, with two heart-shaped crazy straws poking out of the top

“I forgot to ask you something.” He announces as he sits on the bench next to you, holding the cup out. “Will you be my Valentine?”

You throw your head back and laugh, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pressing a kiss to his cheek

“Of course I will.”

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bloodstained-beast · 2 years

Text

Valter’s NS/FW Headcanons

Contains a lot of lewd detail.

General

He’s always on top and always the dom. He will never be submissive to anyone.

His cock is fairly large, veiny and girthy, even without being tempted.

He is bi-curious, but does have a general preference for women.

He is horny 90% of the time.

It’s no secret that he’s into BDSM. He considers himself a master, primal hunter, rigger, brat tamer, sadist and masochist.

Needless to say, HE WILL BE ROUGH.

He is referred to as “Master” or “Master Valter”.

His partners can have a multitude of nicknames/pet names. Most of the time, it's by physical observation.

He is very feral. He will bite, mark and scratch his partner without mercy or care for his partner’s comfort.

He has quite a devious tongue and a teasing touch.

It should be noted that his canines are sharper than usual.

He enjoys the “submissive and breedable” types, as he loves filling his partners to the point of them overflowing.

Kinks

Bondage is one of his biggest kinks. He loves to tie his partners down before fucking them senseless.

CNC is also a big kink of his. He loves the thought of his partners resisting and trying to escape him.

He enjoys inflicting pain and torturing his partners.

Don’t be surprised when he uses a LOT of dirty talk.

He doesn’t mind having sex in public and doesn’t care who sees or watches.

Over-stimulation is something he’s keen on.

Rides the fine line between pain and pleasure.

Would absolutely ruin his (innocent) partner with his corruption.

Foreplay

He loves to hunt down his partner “prey” and see the sheer fear in them. He also wants them to squirm and struggle beneath him, trying to escape. He may let them go for a moment before pouncing on them again a short time later.

He does collar and leash his partners and treats them like his own slaves. If they are “well behaved and tamed”, they get their own tag.

He enjoys tying his partners down, but not to the point where they can’t move at all. He enjoys their struggling.

He doesn’t give any signs of love or affection. Only bites, licks, and deep hungry kisses that would absolutely melt his partner; ultimately turning them to putty in his hands.

While normally rough, he does take time to admire his partner’s body; slowly sweeping his hands over the soft tender parts, caressing cheeks, kneading breasts, etc.

He won’t gag his partners. Their sweet cries and screams are like music to him. However, he may kiss his partner deeply to devour their noises.

He absolutely loves it when his partners worship his cock and suck him off. He does get quite a kick when they try to take it all in.

He won’t hesitate to punish his partners if they are being bad/bratty.

If his partners fail to please him (or if they bore him), he will give them a quick fuck to temporarily sate his sexual urge.

During Sex

He can get fairly loud when he’s fucking someone senseless, often with grunts, growls and wicked laughs. If it feels really good, he might give a low groan.

He will also pant and huff in his partner’s ear while thrusting in them.

If his partner is being especially good, he may give them a pleased purring sound as he’s pounding them deeply.

He will fuck his partner fast and hard after a few thrusts. He will never take it slow.

If his partner has long hair, they must be prepared to have it pulled.

He will lick and bite his partner’s neck when it’s exposed; whether his partner willingly tilted their head back or he’s pulling it back.

He will make comments on how good/naughty his partner is.

He will lick and bite his partner’s neck when it’s exposed; whether his partner willingly tilt their head back or he’s pulling it back.

The more he fucks his partner, the more he will lose himself to his sexual surge.

He will likely let out something akin to a roar when he finally cums.

Aftercare

Aftercare is kinda minimal. He will continue to give physical “affections” long after his partner taps out. He will also likely clean himself up first since it might take awhile for his partner to even move.

That being said, they might not be able to move in the morning.

He may take a step back and admire his work (and or “destruction”) of his partner.

Depending if his partner is pleasing to him, he take them again for future sessions. If they failed to please him, he simply cast them aside.

He often has leftover energy after sex to do tasks/patrol/etc.

Other

Sometimes there are days when Valter just wants to straight up fuck his partner without the foreplay.

He can fuck his partner senseless with or without his armor. If it gets too uncomfortable with his armor on, he can quickly shed it.

He doesn’t like to wear protection.

He doesn’t mind using toys on his partners.

#🐍naughty and foul; n|s|f|w #ns/fw headcanons #valter #fire emblem #god i feel so dirty

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pollylynn · 3 years

Text

Title: Nestling WC: 1100 Episode: Pretty Dead (3 x 23)

He does not want to think about leaving home. He has never, in his whole life, had a real home to speak of, so to leave or not to leave? has never been the question for him. It’s the luxury of his itinerant childhood and adolescence. Or maybe it’s the burden of all that romaning, because here he is, utterly ignorant on the topic of leaving home, and here he is with his kid—to say nothing of his kid’s stupid, boring, annoyingly persistent boyfriend—looking to him for advice.

He has screwed it up royally. Speaking from a veritable black hole of personal experience, he has run his mouth about boundaries and the big picture. He has nattered on about math problems and giving things time. He has, in all his wild ignorance, created the most miserable of situations. His daughter thinks her boyfriend needs to leave home. His daughter thinks she needs to follow, as soon as humanly possible. This is the most miserable of situations, and complete denial—complete refusal to think about anyone, past or present, ever leaving home—is clearly the wisest course of action right now.

But his mind is, to mix a metaphor, a pain in the ass. His mind is persistently, stubbornly interested in the subject of how it is that, once upon a time, Kate Beckett left home.

Of late, she has been uncharacteristically forthcoming on the topic. She has lost in sense memory and she’s pulled him along so he’s lost right along side her. That’s surprising enough, and he has bitten his own tongue a hundred times over the last few days because he hasn’t wanted to run the risk of saying something that might have her hauling out the virtual sawhorses to block his access to memory lane.

But as unexpected as her suddenly free-flowing nostalgia has been, he also finds himself quirking an eyebrow at himself.

He hasn’t wondered about this. Not in any close-to-the-surface part of his mind, anyway. He hasn’t contemplated how badly Rebel Bex, age eighteen, might have been itching to get out of Dodge. He hasn’t ruminated on the high-school sweetheart she might have left behind.

He should have been wondering about all of this all along. He has carte blanche to do far more than wonder. He should have, for the entirety of the years he has known her, been pestering her with positively impertinent questions about those formative years, all in the name of bringing Nikki Heat to life.

But he hasn’t been. In fact, he’s done precious little to expand on Nikki Heat: The Early Years since the moment her utterly convincing lie to a bunch of prep school kids had convinced him, in turn, that Nikki had dreamed of treading the boards before her mother’s murder turned her life upside down.

But now that he knows of the existence of Debbie Winaker, the floodgates have opened. He is positively burning with curiosity about everything. He wants to know how she decided on the wrong coast. He wants to ask if she was running from something or toward something or not running at all. He wants to believe that the decision was wildly impractical—that Rebel Bex was not at all into math problems.

For a moment, he wants to think there was a romance behind it all—that she might have been head over heels for someone and followed her heart. It’s a brief moment, though. A very brief moment. From about six different directions, romance and California and being head over heels all fall under the heading of things he does not want to think about right now.

He thinks about Debbie Winaker instead. He blesses the roommate lottery gods for bringing such a vivid character into her life. He wonders if Debbie’s bad boyfriends, in all their numbers, would have left her crying on the shoulder of a Rebel Bex who was honing her eye-rolling skills even then. He’s happy to give Debbie Winaker a broken heart or three, a high-school sweetheart she left behind, a burning desire to leave home.

But Debbie Winaker and the scent of Aqua Net can only occupy his mind for so long. His thoughts drift back to the uncharacteristic lack of nosiness on his part. He wonders why he hasn’t been wondering about any of this.

He thinks it’s him—just him—at first. He’s never had the luxury of leaving home. Or maybe it’s the burden of feeling like he needed to leave home that he’s never had. And maybe he’s just that narcissistic: If he hasn’t had a particular experience, then it can’t be worth wondering about, right?

It’s an explanation that has a certain masochistic appeal at the moment. He has screwed up so royally and recently that it’s tempting to surrender to the idea that the condition is chronic. But he pokes at the issue like a bruise. He prods at the dark corners of his mind and the truth he finds there seems to be more complicated.

Rebel Bex was the one who left home, and she must have had her reasons—lost love, wild impulse, a double-dog dare to herself. The reasons Rebel Bex had for choosing the wrong coast would have been flashy, dark, bold. It’s easy enough to take that version of the story and drop the details into the flow of Nikki Heat: The Early Days.

But little Katie Beckett left home, too. The whip-smart girl who read plays and massive Russian novels for fun, who loved her mom’s Sunday morning feasts, took a leap of faith and left home. She must have been hopeful and serious. She must have carefully done the math, but still followed her generous, adventuresome heart all the way across the country.

Both things must be true. Rebel Bex must have rolled her eyes at Debbie Winaker, and Little Katie Beckett must have dried her tears with forbearance, if not actual affection.

He hasn’t wondered about it because it makes his own foolish heart hurt to think about her leaving home, not knowing how little time she had left with her mom, with the complicated and wonderful multitudes she contains. He hasn’t wondered about it, because—and it’s an awkward and surprising truth—he has been thinking for a long while now that he gave up the right to wonder when he violated her trust.

But suddenly, she’s surprisingly forthcoming. She’s surprisingly open, and oh, how he wonders. How he wants to know everything about her leaving home.

A/N: Wrote 600 words of other crappy lack of morphousness, Scrapped it for this even crappier lack.

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 3 #Castle: Pretty Dead #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Alexis Castle #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Tell Me More

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darthlorddiamond · 4 years

Text

Just a Mistake

Request: Could you do one for Hux were his really into the this girl who's bigger, and she kinda plays hard to get, and something happens that makes her confidence go down, and he tries to help build it up for her? Maybe like a first kiss, or something? No rush, of course. I mean, if your not comfortable writing that, that's fine too. ❤️❤️❤️ for @loveroffandoms16

Words: 2,703

Reading Time: 11 min

Category: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: None

Check my Masterlist for more.

______________________

Just a Mistake

We have known each other for quite some time, although at that time we were just two young students who didn´t know very well what they were doing.

The first time I saw Armitage was at our generation's presentation on day one at the Academy. He was a very quiet and quite serious boy, who found it difficult to have friends. For my part, I was always a person with a very good gift of speech, and many people used to approach me to ask me about the studies or to know my opinion regarding certain topics that we would discuss later in class. It could be said that both, he and I were opposite, however, for some strange reason that I still cannot understand very well, we struck up a rather strange friendship that grew over the years.

Due to my physical complexion, somewhat short in stature, and a little bit curvy, my superiors decided that my work couldn´t develop well on the battlefield, so they dedicated themselves to training me in areas related to the development of military strategies. The truth is that, at first, I was quite in disagreement with the tasks that were being assigned to me, but as the months went by I began to find it quite attractive, while Hux, at being Captain Brendol's son, our teachers had in him very high expectations of leadership and Armitage focused exclusively on demonstrating that he was capable of achieving anything that was put in front him.

During the final year of the Academy, Armitage and I became quite distant, each one focused entirely on getting the positions that each wanted and our friendship was greatly diminished along the way. I must admit, that during our first years at the Academy, Armitage was a kind of platonic love to me, however, I never said anything because I didn't think someone like me would be attractive to someone like him.

After our graduation, we were assigned positions within the First Order in different locations. Armitage began the development of a military base that would outshine the others and I was assigned the Special Strategies Command Center within the Supremacy. The years passed, I never heard from Armitage other than those regarding the advances of the Star Killer Base, so little by little I put aside those nostalgic feelings of the Academy and immersed myself deeply in my work until the day of the conclusion of the Star Killer Base came. All the High Command of the First Order were called to inhabit that cold planet, which would serve as a central military base.

The reception upon our arrival was quite formal, the troops introduced themselves, greeted, we toured the entire base, a small reception was organized inside the Command Bridge, where a few glasses of alcohol and laughter were present, and it was there, in the midst of all the multitude of generals, captains and lieutenants, that I saw him again. He was standing, with his hands behind his back, his impeccable uniform, and his gaze dancing on each of the attendees without saying anything at all.

I felt a hollowness in my stomach, without a doubt the years had been quite good for him. For a moment I stopped paying attention to the talk of the people around me and I fixed my gaze on him, I wanted to speak to him, but I didn't know-how. I could feel a knot in my stomach getting bigger and bigger, so I decided that it would be best to get closer to him to see if he still remembered me in the first place. I was very anxious, the closer I was to him, the more I regretted having made that decision, but my pride would not let me take a step back, I had to.

Once in front of him, I could see how he only lowered his eyes to saw me, and without saying anything, a small smile was painted on my lips, which was replicated in his mouth. After that night, everything in my life changed.

I applied for my permanent transfer from the Supremacy to the Star Killer Base, became a member of the council table, and began to work side by side with Armitage on everything I did: requesting troop training reports, organizing missions and follow up on all matters related to the Resistance. Also, our friendship was recovering, some nights, Armitage would sneak out to my quarters to share a glass of wine and a cigarette, while we remembered, with laughter, our years as cadets.

I must admit that working at the Star Killer Base isn´t an easy thing, the demands of time and responses were much greater than what I was used to, above all, any type of work or communication that was related to Commander Ren was a very tired, especially for Armitage, who after being in some meeting with him ended up exhausted.

As the months went by, our relationship became more and more intimate, we could find comfort in our presence and the truth is that perhaps we only trusted each other. At first, I thought it was my mind playing a joke on me and that the romance I felt for Armitage in our school years was only flourishing again because my imagination, but I could swear that sometimes he had details with me that gradually became closer. I tried to ignore his stares on the Command Bridge, his attempts to hold my hand when we were alone, and even avoided him a couple of times when I felt his face was too close to mine. Part of me wanted to believe that maybe something was happening between us, but another part of my mind swore it was just my mind.

One afternoon, Armitage came into my office with a bunch of papers in hand, which he slowly deposited on my desk. "I have a mission and I would like you to carry it out..." I turned to saw him "A droid, model BB8, is found somewhere on the surface of Takodana..." Armitage began to smoke while I took the papers that he had put on my desk and began to read it "It´s crucial to find and recover it, since it has valuable information on the Resistance” Armitage continued smoking while I continued reviewing the documents “How long do we have to locate it?” I asked him looking askance over the papers "Immediately" at that moment I understood that this mission was linked to the assault of Takodana and Commander Ren, "Perfect, give me a couple of hours to prepare the action plan, as soon as I have it I´ll give it to Captain Phasma so she can prepare the troops" Armitage nodded and got up from his place heading to the door "One more thing..." he turned to look at me "After handing the plan to Captain Phasma..." a beautiful little smile was painted on his lips "Would you like to come to my quarters for dinner?" I let out a small laugh "I don't know, I'm not so sure..." I said with a slightly doubtful tone "Come on, don't be so difficult!" was the last thing he said before leaving my office.

The next morning the mission began in Takodana, the troops had deployed in the way I had organized them. Relatively it had to be a short and simple mission, how difficult could it be to find a droid?

Big mistake, I should never have made so many assumptions.

"It doesn't surprise me in the least that the mission failed..." General Pride got up from his seat in the meeting room and began to walk around the table, I could feel my throat dry and one of my legs began to move without I could control it, Pride's gaze was cold and it was still fixed on me as he continued his tour of the room, I knew what was coming, there was nothing I could do about it.

Slowly Pride came up behind me and held the back of my chair with both hands. "What surprises me, is the fact that we were trusting that someone like you could carry out such a task..." my hands were sweating and I felt a huge hollow in my stomach due to anxiety "What do you mean by someone like me General?" was the only thing I could say, the atmosphere felt tense, I could feel how the gazes of all those present in the room were on me, including Armitage's.

Pride cleared his throat and walked around the room again to position himself in front of me on the other side of the table. "I mean it's obvious that someone like you..." he raised one of his hands to point to my whole body, it was clear what he tried to insinuate "Someone with your physique..." I could feel tears beginning to form in my eyes, but I tried to contain it as best as possible, I wasn´t going to give him the pleasure of humiliating me in that way "Well Captain, someone with your body build has never been in the ground, that's why it's not surprising that the mission failed..." a mocking smile spread across his face as I just clenched my fists under the table "Someone like you only knows what it´s, in theory, a search mission, but you don't know the physical effort involved…” Pride put his hands behind his back.

I felt humiliated, ashamed and somewhat outraged, no one said anything, my stomach ached with rage, with impotence, I felt so much anger that a tear escaped my eyes, Pride was only looking at me from the corner of his eye, savoring every moment "You can retire Captain, it's time for the true men of combat to talk about how to solve your error” I didn´t wait a single second more, I immediately got up from my place and left that room.

I didn't know what to do, I didn't know where to go. To my office? No, I needed to be alone, so, even though my workday was not over yet, I immediately went to my quarters, once the door was closed, I burst into tears - Someone like me... - I couldn't stop listening to the words of Pride in my head. I felt dirty so I got undressed right away and walked to the bathroom to take a shower.

The water in the shower helped me a little to dull the sound of my sobs. I´m so stupid! How could I think someone like me could perform a task like that!? I failed, not just to the First Order and Commander Ren, but Armitage, who was the first to trust me to do this task. I didn't know what to do, I was completely heartbroken. How is it that someone like me had gotten to where I was; how is it that the troops could trust someone like me; how is it that someone... How is it that Armitage... How could he look at someone like me?

Several weeks have passed since that terrible meeting. The only way I found to feel a little better and alleviate my supposed "incompetence" was to isolate myself from everything and focus exclusively on my work, I spent days and nights locked in my office without paying attention to anyone. My self-esteem was shattered, so I unconsciously started eating less and showing up late at night in the training room, away from the eyes of others, away from their criticism, their comments on my appearance.

As the days went by with my self-destructive routine, my body began to feel the consequences, I felt more tired than normal due to the demands of work and training that I was carrying out, I could see that big dark circles had begun to mark under my eyes and the usual rosy color on my cheeks was gone. On several occasions I had run into Armitage in the corridors of the base, however, I had completely ignored him, I didn´t dare to face him, I felt quite ashamed for having failed him in the mission, but I felt a thousand times worse for having thought that something existed between the two of us.

One of the many nights that I was in my office the door opened. In silence, but with a sure step, Armitage approached my desk and remained standing there for a couple of minutes, it was obvious that he was waiting for me to say something, ask something or do something, but I couldn't, I was completely frozen, I felt too nervous to say anything, I felt embarrassed enough to even see him.

"This is enough..." he said, almost like a whisper "You have been locked in this office for weeks without eating or sleeping well..." my gaze was fixed on the desk, while he advanced around it until he reached where I was sitting, I was feeling very nervous, what could I say to him? "You've been avoiding me for weeks..." I immediately turned to see him, my mind had made up an idea where we would eventually have to talk, but I always thought that when that moment would come he would complain about the failed mission, not about us "Armitage, I'm so sorry..." a couple of tears escaped my eyes "I never thought that Takodana's mission was to..." his body leaned quickly over mine, his hands gripped the armrests of my seat and his lips landed on mine.

The force of his kiss was so explosive that I couldn´t do anything to avoid it, his lips were so soft and his movements showed a kind of domination over me. I completely lost myself in the moment, the only thing I wanted at that instant never end "I don't give a damn about Takodana..." he whispered on my lips before kissing me again. He raised one of his hands to hold my the back of my neck and deepen the kiss, a fact that made me moan a little giving him access to my mouth, which he began to explore with his tongue. After a couple of minutes, we both left to get some air.

His face had drawn a blush almost the color of his hair, his eyes were still fixed on mine, while the hand that held my neck began to gently caress my cheek "Armitage, I never thought..." I stammered a little, I wasn´t sure it had happened that it just occurred "How is it that someone like you could fixate on someone like me..." I lowered my gaze to the ground, Pride's words were still present in my head.

Armitage brought his hand to my chin to lift my face, a couple more tears were present, he slowly approached me "I don't..." he kissed my lips "care anything..." he kissed one of my cheeks "about what..." he kisses my forehead "the others say..." he kissed my lips again, prolonging his touch a little more than normal. Recharging his forehead with mine, a smile played on my lips as I felt the warmth of his breath brushing my face and flooding my chest with a feeling of excitement and happiness like never before.

I jumped up from my seat and pounced on him, our bodies were completely united while his arms surrounded me and mine clung to his neck. I buried my face in his chest and Armitage covered the top of my head with kisses, we stayed like that for a few minutes until he broke that comfortable silence "How about we continue this in a more comfortable place..." I raised my face to look at him "We could go to my quarters, if that's okay with you" I drew a smile on my lips and moved my body a little away from his, without breaking our embrace, raising an eyebrow and with a slightly playful tone I replied, "I don't know, I'm not so sure ..." Armitage gave a small laugh and came closer to kiss me again "You really like to play hard" he whispered on my lips as I could feel a smile on his face.

#general hux #general hux x reader #general hux imagine #general hux smut #general hux x reader smut #star wars smut #general hux fluff #general hux x you #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux imagine #armitage hux smut #armitage hux fluff #armitage hux x you

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uenodivision · 3 years

Text

Sakurai Clan Drama Track 1 - So It Goes.

Pt. 3

-- Yuzairu Residence --

[The time was approximately 12:18 P.M. as the sun shined high in the sky in the city of Ueno. It was the weekend, which meant that the town was actively busy as people were either walking or driving to and from their various destinations. Some were middle-aged men and women on their way to walk, despite it being a Saturday afternoon. Others were young teenagers talking about the ins and outs of their lives, be it with school, parents, or whatever else gossip was on their minds at the moment.]

[In one of the suburbs of the Division was the adobe of Kisouna Yuzairu, 1/3 of Ueno Division's rap group, Sakurai Clan. Sitting on her couch in the living room, she had a multitude of papers and folders in front of her. At first glance, one would think that they had something to do with her work, which would be no surprise considering her profession. But that would be an incorrect guess.]

[Actually, these papers all contained information on all the available rap groups that were most likely to take part in the Division Rap Battle Tournament that was to take place in a few short weeks. After being informed a few days ago by Aranai that Chuohku had entered them without their knowledge, Kisouna, in her spare time, had done research on every team and division there were. Luckily, one of the interns at her law firm was a big fan of the D.R.B., so when Kisouna asked, he divulged all information he had on him. Most of what he knew was already common knowledge, but it still helped.]

[The prosecuting attorney was deep in her thoughts, studying one of the papers until the doorbell rung, sending its signal throughout the entire house. Standing up, Kisouna walked to the entrance. Peering through the peephole, she looked as it was the remaining members of the Sakurai Clan: Shisuta and Aranai. Unlocking the lock on her door, she opened it.]

Kisouna: *Nods her head to both of them* Shisuta. Aranai.

Shisuta: *Bows her body with her hands together on her lap* Good day, Kisouna-san.

Aranai: *Holds her left hand up* What up, Boss-Lady?

[Frowning at the nickname her leader gave her, she sighed, shaking her head as she moved slightly to the side, allowing the two women access into her house.]

Aranai: *Walks inside, looking around with a frown* I know that this is part of your shtick and all, but would it kill you to add some life into this place?

Kisouna: *Frowns as she closes the front door, following her friends* F.Y.I., it's called 'minimalist'.

Aranai: *Scoffs* It should be called 'boring'.

Shisuta: *Frowns* Aranai...

Aranai: What? It's true! *Looks back at Kisouna* I don't see how you and your daughter can live with how empty this place is.

Kisouna: *Still frowning* For your information, Yomi actually likes the house like this.

Aranai: *Scoffs again, speaking under her breath* She's just too young to know better.

[Knowing that she had said something, the prosecuting attorney chose not to reply; instead, shaking her head as she made her way back to the living room couch.]

Shisuta: Speaking of which, where is Yomi-chan?

Kisouna: I dropped her off at her friend's house. They were having a birthday party, and she begged me to take her.

Shisuta: Oh. *Slightly upset* I was looking forward to talking and playing with her.

Aranai: Same here. *Scratches the back of her head* She's the only good thing I like about coming to this place.

Kisouna: *Frowns at Aranai* Gee, thanks.

Aranai: *Shrugs* Just telling the truth.

Kisouna: *Sighs and shakes her head* In any case, it's good that you're both here since we can get to work now.

Shisuta: *Looks down at the papers and folders* What are these?

Kisouna: Information on every team that's most likely going to enter the Division Rap Battle.

Shisuta: *Looks up at Kisouna* Every team? *Looks back down at the folders*

Aranai: *Frowns* No offense Boss-Lady, but I highly doubt that all of these teams are going to join.

Kisouna: *Looks seriously at Aranai* We don't know that for sure. Remember who it is that's overseeing this tournament.

[At that, both Aranai and Shisuta frowned as they knew that Chuohku, or more specifically, the Party of Words, were the ones who put all this together.]

Kisouna: Chuohku will use any means necessary to get what they want. *Looks back down at her papers* These teams could have voluntarily joined or could have been extorted into joining, like us.

Shisuta: *Frowns* True.

Aranai: But what would they want with all these teams in their tournament for anyway?

Kisouna: I don't know. The benefits may seem to be for the team that wins the tournament, but we all know Chuohku isn't that generous. Whatever their end game is, it only serves to benefit them in the end.

Shisuta: Wouldn't the safest option be not to win, then?

Aranai: No way! You know what happens to the territories of the teams that lose, right?

Shisuta: *Nods* Yes, they are given to the overall winners of the tournament.

Aranai: Exactly! And I don't know about you guys, but I'd rather not see Ueno in the hands of someone else.

Kisouna: *Nods* Crudely put, but I agree.

Shisuta: *Nods, a serious expression on her face* As do I. *Looks back at Kisouna*

Shisuta: But if what you say is true, and this tournament only helps to benefit Chuohku, then what can we do?

Kisouna: *Sighs, shaking her head* I'm afraid there's not much we can do, Shisuta. As of right now, we, the other teams, the Divisions, even the Hypnosis Microphones, are all just the government's puppets.

Aranai: Puppets?!

Shisuta: *Puts her hand up in a calming manner* It's an expression, Aranai.

Kisouna: As long as Chuohku is holding onto the strings, we can do nothing but move as they want us to. *Looks up at her teammates*

Kisouna: And if any of us even thinks of stepping out of line, they'll bring the entire force of the government down upon us.

[All three women sat in uncomfortable silence as the reality of the situation came upon them. They knew the consequences of what would happen if they lost, or worse, if they refused to acquiesce to Chuohku's wishes. As Kisouna stated, the PoW were the ones holding all the cards, and there was little they any of them could do about it.]

Aranai: *Her head is down, shadows over her eyes* ...I'm sorry.

[At this, both of the other women looked up at their leader, surprised. It was rare for them to hear Aranai apologize for something, and be so serious about it.]

Kisouna: ...Sorry for what?

Aranai: *Still has her head down* For being the reason why we're in this mess, to begin with.

Kisouna: *Confused* What are you talking about, Aranai?

Aranai: You both read the letter, didn't you? The reason we're forced to join this tournament is because of me. *Has her left arm over her chest, holding onto her right arm*

Aranai: If we didn't join, then the government would have used my past as an excuse to put me away. Maybe for good.

Kisouna: Aranai... *Opens her mouth to say more, but doesn't know what to say*

Aranai: *Laughs bitterly* Guess it's true what they say. You can never escape your past no matter how hard you try. I mean... I knew it would catch up with me eventually, but I...

[As the former Bōsōzoku was about to continue her speech, she was shocked as she was suddenly pulled forward into a hug. Glancing upward, Aranai looked as Shisuta had her hand on the back of the leader's head, putting it in the nun's bosom.]

Shisuta: *A gentle smile is on her face* That is enough. No more talking like that.

Aranai: *Still shocked* S-Shisuta...

Shisuta: No one here blames you for this. You've moved on from being the person that you once were. And for Chuohku to try to use that against you is wrong and inexcusable of them.

Aranai: Y-yeah, but...

Shisuta: No buts. *Lifts Aranai's face to look at her* You are not the same as you were yesterday. The fact that you feel sorry and upset about it is proof of that.

Shisuta: *Looks behind at Kisouna on the couch* Don't you agree, Kisouna-san?

Kisouna: Y-yeah. *Clears her throat before speaking*

Kisouna: Shisuta is right, Aranai. Neither of us blames you for this predicament. It was only a matter of time before Chuohku targeted us. If it wasn't you, then it more than likely would have been one of us. If they didn't use your past, then they would have found something else to use instead. *Looks down at all the papers on the table, again*

Kisouna: That just shows how despicable and desperate they are to have everything under their control.

Shisuta: *Nods in agreement* Indeed. *Looks back down at Aranai*

Shisuta: So stop blaming yourself for this. This is Chuohku's doing, not yours.

Aranai: Y-yeah. *Clears her throat as she is released from Shisuta's grasp*

Aranai: Sorry, you guys. *Looks away, hiding the pink on her cheeks* And, t-thank you.

Shisuta: *Smiles* You are welcome.

Kisouna: *Smirks* It's a shame I didn't have my camera on me. A picture of you humbled like that would have been one for my scrapbook.

Aranai: *Scowls at Kisouna* Ha-ha. Laugh it up. Just know: if you tell anyone about this, I'll hurt you.

Kisouna: *Still smirking* Of course.

[At that, all three women stared at one another, before chuckling and finally laughing out loud, their spirits renewed.]

Kisouna: Alright. *Looks at her teammates, a confident look on her face* That's enough small talk. Let's get to work!

Aranai & Shisuta: Right!

[For the next hour, the trio spent their time looking through the various teams and individuals, analyzing their strengths, weaknesses, abilities, and anything else they felt might give them an edge in the tournament.]

Aranai: *Sitting on the floor, looking through a random folder with a frown* Is Chuohku just sending everyone a Hypnosis Microphone? *Puts the folder down on the floor*

Aranai: Some of these teams I've never even heard of before.

Kisouna: *Sitting on her sofa, looking through a different folder* The Party of Words is responsible for the mass development of the Hypnosis Microphones. In a way, you could call them the real power behind Chuohku.

Aranai: *Has a confused look on her face* Yeah, but aren't Hypnosis Microphones dangerous? Why send them out to a bunch of strangers? In fact, why send them out at all? With that kind of power, they could easily take over all of Japan without going through the trouble of having everyone compete in a tournament.

Kisouna: *Puts her folder down* I may be wrong, but I don't think Chuohku's goal is to take over Japan. They already did that when they usurped power during WWIII.

Shisuta: True. *Lays her folder down beside her on the other end of the couch*

Shisuta: After their takeover, they put a ban on all firearms, and instead developed the Hypnosis Microphones as a way to settle disputes. *Sighs, sorrowfully*

Shisuta: Battle is still the same. The only difference is the weapons.

Aranai: *Still has a confused look* Yeah, but why? Why send out the Hypnosis Microphones in the first place? If their goal is to make everyone fear and obey them, wouldn't it be smarter to keep them for themselves?

Aranai: And why go through all the trouble of creating a tournament just to give the winners money and the losers' territory? What does Chuohku get out of it?

[Aranai's questions gave the three women much to think about. Why did Chuohku go to all the trouble of sending out Microphones when they could just use to them exert dominance on everyone? And why create a tournament just to reward the winner? It didn't add up.]

Kisouna: I don't know what Chuohku is up to, but you have to remember, the PoW doesn't do things for no reason. This tournament is probably their way to exert loyalty from the masses and the Divisions.

Aranai: 'Loyalty?' For what? Just because they reward the winners with some cash and some land?

Kisouna: I think by rewarding the winners of the tournament, they are showing their supposed benevolence to everyone in Japan, in hopes of getting the populace on their side.

Shisuta: For what reason, though? As Aranai stated, they could easily dominate anyone who opposes them.

Kisouna: *Shakes her head 'no'* Ruling with fear isn't always the best way to rule if history is anything to go by. Fear leads to anger, which leads to hate. If Chuohku started oppressing the masses, they'd have riots on their hands all throughout Japan.

Aranai: *Shrugs* So? Couldn't they just put them down? Seems like an easy thing to do.

Kisouna: They could, but that'd just lead to more people fearing and hating them. *Shakes her head* Of course, this is all just speculation.

[At that, the three women returned back to work, though their minds were still heavy with the number of questions they were still left with. The room was relatively quiet, as the trio studied and looked through various files and folders.]

Kisouna: *Looking up at Aranai from her folder* By the way Aranai, has Chuohku sent you another letter about the team(s) we'll be facing yet?

Aranai: *Shakes her head 'no'* Nope. And trust me, I've been checking my mailbox and email like crazy for any letter that has a PoW symbol on it.

[A few seconds later, the leader of SC felt a short, but loud 'chime' emanating from her coat pocket, which was a sign that she had just received a new email on her cell phone.]

Aranai: *Rolls her eyes* Probably more junk mail...

[Sighing, the former Bōsōzoku pulled her phone out and looked as the screen on the phone brightened, revealing the email. She frowned as the subject of the email read, 'Untitled'.]

Aranai: *Rolls her eyes again* Knew it.

[Preparing to delete it, the SC leader opened the letter, preparing to hit the 'send to junk' button on her email app. However, she suddenly stopped as she spotted a familiar insignia on the top right corner of the message. Her eyes grew big and wide as she instantly recognized it.]

Aranai: *Looks up at the other two women* Hey guys, *Kisouna and Shisuta look up at her* Guess who just sent me an email about the tournament.

Kisouna: *Her eyes grow wide* Chuohku?

Aranai: *Nods* Yup.

[Walking over to the sofa where the others sat, Aranai placed herself in the middle as Shisuta and Kisouna huddled near her.]

Shisuta: What's it say?

Aranai: Umm... *Scrolls down on her phone to reveal some of the email* ...it's a tournament bracket.

[Flipping her phone horizontally, the trio looked as there was a large-sized bracket filled with numerous teams. Most of them were obviously from different divisions, but some were present right here in the city of Ueno.]

Aranai: I don't recognize half of the teams on this list.

Kisouna: They must be complete unknowns.

[Scrolling down on the phone again, the trio was surprised to see that the email still wasn't done. Just below the bracket, there was a video file. Clicking it with her finger, the file opened on Aranai's phone, revealing the figure of Otome Tohoten sitting behind her desk in the PoW HQ in Chouhku, with her hands locked together as she was staring at the camera.]

Aranai: *Looks at her teammates* Do we have to play it? I really don't feel like listening to this woman any more than I have to.

Kisouna: *Scowls* Neither do I, but if she has something important to say about the tournament, then we have no choice.

[Groaning, the former Bōsōzoku reluctantly pressed the big blue 'play' button on the video, starting it up as the Prime Minister began speaking.]

Otome: Salutations. If you are viewing this video, then you are either a team or Division leader, and have successfully filled out you and your team’s registration for the Division Rap Battle Tournament. And for that, allow me to say, ‘congratulations.’

Aranai: She sure loves to hear herself talk, doesn’t she?

Kisouna: Shh!

Otome: As you can all see by the bracket, which I hoped you viewed before playing this video, these are the teams that will be participating in the Division Rap Battle Tournament, which I am pleased to announce as of right now has officially begun.

[At this, all three women’s eyes grew large and wide.]

Aranai: *Shocked* What?! I thought the tournament was supposed to start in a few weeks!

Otome: I imagine that many of you are feeling shocked and/or upset at this news. And for that, I apologize. *A grin then appears on her face*

Otome: However, I felt a few more weeks of waiting would be too long for you and the people of Japan to wait for the tournament. Thus, I felt that having it begin right away would be more beneficial for everyone.

Aranai: *Growls* That bitch!

Shisuta: *Frowns* Aranai!

Aranai: *Frowns back* Sorry, but...

Kisouna: Shh! Quiet, she's still talking!

Otome: *The grin is gone from her face* In each division, there are four teams in total. These teams will compete against one another in the qualifying rounds. The last team remaining will be the official team selected to represent their division, and will move on to the semi-finals, which will be held a week later.

[After finishing her sentence, a small square-like screen appeared beside the Chairwoman, which showed a large dome, which was obviously a coliseum.]

Otome: On the last day of the tournament, the Division teams will proceed to the special Coliseum, here in the heart of Chuohku, where they will compete against one another to determine the overall winner(s) of the tournament. The winning team will not only be awarded 100,000,000 yen for each member but will also receive the territory of the defeated divisions, as well as the prestige that comes with being the winners.

Aranai: *Scoffs* Yeah, a lot of good that does us...

Otome: You will all soon receive a schedule, detailing when and where your battles will take place. *Her grin returns* I wish you all the best of luck. I, as well as the whole of Japan, are looking forward to a good tournament. Do not disappoint us.

[With that final threat, the image of the Chairwoman vanished and was replaced with the familiar insignia of the Party of Words, as the video soon ended. As it did, all in the room was relatively quiet, save the hissing from the air vent which blew out cool air into the room.]

Aranai: ...Well... *She sighs* ...shit.

Shisuta: *Frowns again* Aranai...

Aranai: *Frowns back* Shisuta, please... don't start.

Kisouna: Indeed. *Sighs* I hate to say it, but I agree with our leader's choice of words, vulgar though they may be. *Lets her head fall back, hitting the couch as she places her right hand on her forehead*

Kisouna: This turn of events does not bode well for us.

Aranai: Well, no kidding! Now we have less time to prepare than we did before!

Shisuta: Indeed.

Kisouna: It's our own fault. We should have expected this sort of thing from Chuohku. It's not out of sort for them.

Aranai: Yeah, but still! They could have at least gave us some heads-up! Why the hell did...

[In the middle of her rant, the Sakurai leader felt her phone vibrate and beep in her pocket for the second time today. Growling, she briskly pulled it out of her pocket and looked as a notification appeared on her home screen signaling that she had received another email. Like the previous one, the title of it read, 'Untitled'.]

Aranai: *Sarcastically* Gee, now who could this be from, I wonder...

[Touching it, the email app reappeared on the screen, the email showing up. Like the previous one, a familiar insignia was shown on the upper right part of the email: the Party of Words.]

Kisouna: Chuohku?

Aranai: *Nods* Hmm.

Shisuta: You certainly have to admire their diligence. When they say they will do something, they do it.

Kisouna: Indeed. *Looks at Aranai* So, what's it say?

Aranai: *Looking at her phone* ...It's our match schedule. Apparently, our first match is the day after tomorrow at 8 P.M.

Shisuta: Who are we facing?

Aranai: Some unknown group called Ueno's Crusaders.

Six days later...

-- The Art of Law, Ueno Division --

[It was early evening as a groan escaped Kisouna Yuzairu's mouth as sat in her office, rubbing her eyes in a circular motion, trying to wake herself up. With the announcement that the Division Rap Battle had begun almost a week ago by the Chairwoman, the city of Ueno was in an uproar over it.]

[Four days ago, the team of Sakurai Clan had scored a decisive victory over the team of Ueno's Crusaders. In fact to call it a 'victory' would be a complete and gross understatement. The team of SC had completely trounced the other team in a matter of minutes. Even without the judges' announcement, it was clear to everyone that SC were the winners.]

[With their victory over the Crusaders, Sakurai Clan now had one final hurdle to pass: the team of the Benten Shōguns, who also had a victory under their belt after defeating their opponents. Whichever team won would be the team to represent the Ueno Division.]

Kisouna: *A tired, but determined look is on her face* We have to win this battle tonight.

[In an effort to make sure that their team was prepared not only for the qualifiers but also for the tournament itself, Kisouna had been pushing the team nonstop. If they weren't studying up their opponents, ascertaining their strengths and weaknesses, they were practicing their hearts and souls out. Though she knew it was for the good of the team and for Ueno, the prosecuting attorney personally could not wait for this whole mess to be over with. Between her work, the tournament, and taking care of her daughter, it was a wonder she wasn't dead on her feet.]

Kisouna: *Sighs, rubbing her eyes* When this tournament is over, I'm taking Yomi with me on a nice, long vacation...

-- Ueno Park --

[The time was five minutes to 8 P.M. in Ueno Park. Despite it being evening time, the park was still open to all. In fact, evening time was really when the park started to get busy. The majestic scene of the cherry blossom trees blowing their beautiful flower petals in the air, created a very tranquil and beautiful picture, like something out of a work of art. It was no wonder that this was Japan's most popular park, and the site for many of its festivals.]

[As stated, normally the park still had throngs of people walking amongst the pavement despite the time of day. But with news of the Division Rap Battle taking place, it seemed as if almost all of Ueno City was present here, even though it was just the qualifying rounds. However, tonight's round would be the deciding factor. Which of the two teams would be the one to go on to Chuohku to represent Ueno Division in the tournament: the Benten Shōguns, or the Sakurai Clan?]

[With the time for battle swiftly approaching, both groups stepped onto the stage, with cheers, shouts, and applause from the crowd. Both teams were staring at one another, knowing full well what was at stake. Kisouna appeared focused, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see her daughter, Yomi, sitting on the shoulder of Aranai's friend, Kaba. The young girl was smiling and waving at her mother, who discreetly smiled and waved back, though her attention went right back to the matter at hand.]

[Shisuta had her eyes closed, but was subtly moving her lips. Both Aranai and Kisouna knew she was most likely praying, as she always did. Lastly, Aranai tried to ignore the beating of her heart, which seemed to be all she could hear at the moment until the moment that the announcer stepped onto the stage between the two teams. It was a female, wearing the traditional uniform of the Party of Words, which was no real surprise since this tournament was being held and funded by them. Everyone in attendance quieted down as their attention was now focused on her.]

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! This is the qualifying round to determine Ueno Division's representatives for the D.R.B.! Which of these two teams will emerge victorious and go on to Chuohku to represent Ueno City?

Announcer: Will it be... *Points to the shōguns* ...the team of the Benten Shōguns? *Moderate shouts and cheers*

Announcer: Or... *Points to the Sakurai Clan* ...the team of the Sakurai Clan? *Loud shouts and cheers*

Announcer: Since the Shōguns won the coin toss, they get to go first!

Aranai: *Frowns at the announcer* I still say that toss was rigged...

Announcer: So without further ado, let the battle begin!

[Moving off stage, the SC looked as Shōguns began their song, which, admittingly, was well-done, as most of the crowd was rather engrossed in it.]

Aranai: *Looks back at her teammates* I hate to admit it, but these guys are actually pretty good.

Shisuta: *Nods* Indeed. They have really good unison.

Kisouna: Well, it'd be disappointing if they were a lackluster team after making it to the finals.

Aranai: We need a good song if we want to pull this off. Any ideas?

Shisuta: Hmm... oh! What about that song we've been practicing these few days?

Kisouna: *Looks skeptical* Are you sure? We still haven't exactly put the finishing touches on it.

Aranai: No better time than the present. Besides, we've got no choice. We're up next.

[As the Shōguns' song finished, it was met with cheers and applause from the audience as they proceeded off stage.]

Announcer: A spectacular performance from the Benten Shōguns! The Sakurai Clan will have to pull off all the stops in order to win! And now without further ado, the Sakurai Clan!

[Stepping back on stage, the group was again met with cheers as they stood in front of the audience on the stage.]

Aranai: *Looks back at her teammates* You guys ready for this?

Shisuta: *Nods, cheerfully* Hai!

Kisouna: *Nods* Let's do it.

Aranai: Right!

Bring the Beat!

[Sakurai Clan:]

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game We’re going to protect our space Everyone look, it’s not bad to see my face Kicking my rap is just like this!

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game You should stop before you get burnt You’ll never forget once you hear my phrase Kicking my rap is just like this!

Just like this… Just like this…

[Aranai:]

Yes, yes, y’all Hey yo! Do you remember me? It's Ride or Die, the master emcee I'm not afraid of a backroom brawl Mess with me, you best be ready to play ball! Have I lost some fights? Sadly yes, I'll admit But never once did I yell, 'I quit!' And I never will cause that's not who I am! Even if the odds are stacked, I'll still play my hand!

[Kisouna:]

'He who wishes to fight must first count the cost' That doesn't apply to me. In the end, it's your loss! Many people go to war, and then seek to win But I do just the opposite, again and again My win/loss ratio speaks for itself Because everything that's not positive, I quickly expel! Cause trouble in Ueno, you won't escape punishment A new sheriff is in town, and her name is Verdict!

[Shisuta:]

Blessed and highly favored, that's all I need to be In the splendor of God's glory, I have the victory! Ueno City's my home, and thus, has my heart As long as we stay strong, we won't be torn apart! A fool once stated, 'love gets in the way' But I wholely believe that love paves the way That's why, as The Saint, no matter the pain I will never have a reason to complain (Plain, Plain, Plain...)

[Sakurai Clan:]

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game Listen to my song, grasp this- game Listen to my song… Listen to my song… Listen to my song…

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game We’re going to protect our space Everyone look, it’s not bad to see my face Kicking my rap is just like this!

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game You should stop before you get burnt You’ll never forget once you hear my phrase Kicking my rap is just like this!

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game We’re going to protect our space Everyone look, it’s not bad to see my face Kicking my rap is just like this!

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game You should stop before you get burnt This is Sakurai Clan's funky sounds Kicking my rap is just like this!

[As the final beat to the song ended, the entirety of Ueno Park was filled with cheers and screams as the song ended, with the majority of them cheering for the second group who just finished.]

Crowd: Sakurai! Sakurai! Sakurai!

[The cheers ceased to stop even as the announcer stepped back on stage.]

Announcer: Well ladies and gentlemen, it seems clear by the shouts and cheers that we have our winning team! So with that being said, it gives me great honor to introduce to you the winners of the match, and the Ueno Division's representatives for the D.R.B., the Sakurai Clan!

[A light shined down from the stage as the rap group was illuminated in light, which seemed to fit as the crowd continued cheering and shouting for them. The three women stood on stage, smiles on their faces, proud of their accomplishment. Shaking heads with the opposing team, the group was quickly overwhelmed by the cheers of the crowd, as many yelled for an encore of their song.]

Aranai: *Looks back at her teammates* Something tells me this is going to be a long night...

Kisouna: *Sighs* Unfortunately.

Shisuta: *Smiles* Well, that's popularity.

Aranai: True that. *Takes her microphone back out of her coat pocket* What do you say, girls? Got room for one more song?

Kisouna: *Sighs again, but nods* Why not? Doesn't seem I'll be getting Yomi to bed anytime soon, anyway.

Shisuta: *Nods* I'm in!

Aranai: Then let's do it... again!

Shisuta & Kisouna: Right!

[With that, the city park was filled with cheers as the group continued their song. And the night sky filled with stars as it signaled just another day in the great city of Ueno...]

To be continued...

#hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #drama track #aranai norikoru #shisuta heisha #kisouna yuzairu #ueno division #sakurai clan #so it goes

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yeah-klave · 3 years

Text

A Short History of What Happened - Chapter 5

Written, with love, for EnKlave Fest 2021.

Catch up with the story so far: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4

Prompt: Omegas aren’t allowed to join the army, but then Omega!Klaus gets dropped into Vietnam and has to pose as a Beta. He manages quite well, right until he goes into heat. Alpha!Dave is protective and incredibly aroused/horny.

Genre: Omega verse, smut, developing relationships, slow burn, undercover, misunderstandings, secretly in love.

Word length: This chapter: 3.9k

Warning: Implied, canon-compliant abuse. Implied homophobia. Discussion of AU-specific political issues, including victim-blaming, gay-shame and dub-con medical procedures. The entire work, when posted, will contain explicit sexual content.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

***************************************************************

They walked on in silence for a while.

Dave wasn’t quite sure why or how, but he felt more content in this moment than he had in months, years even. Maybe ever.

It was ridiculous. The man walking beside him was practically a stranger. A mystery; with secrets and a painful history and – quite possibly – more than a little darkness inside him.

Dave couldn’t explain it, but somehow, he still felt a… pull.

Perhaps Klaus did live in a world of shadows, but maybe Dave could turn on the light. Maybe Dave could be the light.

Dave heard a gentle inhale next to him and turned to see Klaus breathing deeply, his eyes closed and his heard tilted back slightly.

Dave faltered, was he… scenting the air?

Klaus’ lashes fluttered and he opened his eyes and caught Dave’s gaze. His irises were thin green disks around the dark pools of his blown pupils.

“Whaafght,” Dave stuttered.

Klaus blinked.

Dave composed himself, took a deep breath and started again.

“What,” Dave swallowed, thinking frantically and eventually grasping at the first coherent thought that came to him, “what kind of music do you like?”

Before him, a smile spread slowly across Klaus’ face and a twinkle lit up his eyes.

“Buckle up, David,” Klaus smiled, “I’m about to take you on a wild ride.”

And he did.

Dave hadn’t even heard of most of the songs Klaus listed off. In fact, he didn’t recognise them to all, even when Klaus sang bits aloud in a breathy, enthusiastic, but slightly off-key voice. Dave was feeling light and relaxed, but he didn’t start getting giggly until Klaus began adding the accompanying dance moves – a series of shimmies, little hip rolls and dramatic arm movements. Dave started laughing. And once he started, he found it really difficult to stop. The sound of Dave attempting to supress his giggling seemed to spur Klaus on because he just started hamming it up even more.

Dave tried to get himself under control a couple of times, glancing around nervously, aware of where they were. But the coast looked completely clear and then he’d look back at Klaus and the expression on his face would set him off again.

“I’ve never,” Dave wheezed between peals of laughter, “even heard of these songs. My favourite song is The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Where you’re from must be much hipper than where I grew up.”

“Ohmigod, Dave!” Klaus choked, “Hip! You’re just too precious!”

“It means trendy or… happening,” Dave helpfully supplied.

Klaus’ faced creased and he doubled over in silent giggles.

“That’s perfect,” Klaus choked out, gasping for air, “absolutely spiffing! Completely ripping! Positively groovy!”

Dave didn’t quite get the joke, but grinned along with him.

“It must have been, though,” Dave bobbed his head earnestly. “We must be pretty out of touch with the cool music where I’m from.”

“Where’s that?” Klaus asked.

“Near Dallas,” Dave supplied.

“Ooh, a Southerner!” Klaus said. “So, Dave, are you more a smooth Southern gentleman or rough Texas cowboy?”

Dave paused. “Neither,” he said finally, “I’m just me. Just boring old Dave Katz. There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m just… a plain hamburger kind of a guy.”

Klaus looked at him steadily. “I don’t buy that at all,” he said. “There’s nothing plain hamburger about you, Dave.”

“Well,” Dave corrected himself. “Actually, my order would probably be plain hamburger with two pickles, if I’m being exact. And picky.”

“Exactly,” Klaus grinned. “See, just what I said! Flavour! Dave Katz likes to slip a bit of pickle in his hamburger!”

Klaus wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Dave coughed uncomfortably. This conversation was straying into dangerous territory.

“How do you take your hamburger, then?” Dave asked.

“I like a little pickle,” Klaus said. “Well actually, I like a big pickle. A big, hard pickle.” He waggled his eyebrows again and then did an adorable little two-eyed wink. Dave felt his cheeks heating up at the same time his heart clenched a little at the cuteness. “The cheese can go take a running jump, though,” Klaus added, “and it had better come with fries and ketchup or else heads will roll. To be honest though, hamburger probably wouldn’t be my first choice for favourite food.”

“What would be?” Dave asked, interested.

Klaus pondered. “I knew someone once who made amazing ossobuco, that was pretty good. And I’ve always had a sweet spot of doughnuts. My siblings and I used to…” Klaus trailed off.

Dave held his breath, but Klaus didn’t add any more. Dave chanced a glance sideways. Klaus had a distant, faraway look in his eyes.

Dave racked his brain for a change of topic.

“Have you ever read Dune?” he asked.

Klaus appeared to give himself a little shake.

“No,” he said, “what’s it about?”

“Well,” and with that, Dave launched into a monologue about his favourite ever book. As he talked, he saw Klaus’ eyes flitting over his face, smiling and nodding along. There was a warmth and fondness there that took Dave by surprise; an unguarded acceptance. The mutual respect of a new friendship. It made Dave feel giddy and drunk, a bubble of happiness growing inside him.

Dave was just wondering whether he should start telling Klaus about his interpretation of the ‘fear is the little death’ line, when he suddenly noticed in the distance, the location of the new camp they were travelling towards.

Reality hit him like a punch to the face.

He’d had all this time alone with Klaus to talk about the difficult things, the things they couldn’t speak about in front of the others and they’d wasted it on hamburgers and silly dance moves. In fact, he’d hardly got any answers to the multitude of questions that has been plaguing him since Klaus first arrived. They still had so many practical things they needed to discuss.

“Klaus,” Dave said, his voice low and urgent.

Klaus flinched and looked around quickly for the danger.

Guiltily, Dave backtracked.

“No. Sorry. It’s fine. It’s just, we’ve almost arrived and…” he paused, usure how to phrase the next bit. “There are still a few things we should probably talk about first.”

“Like what?” Klaus asked, his voice innocent and confused.

“Well…” Dave started slowly. “You know…” He looked at Klaus hopefully. Klaus looked back, nonplussed.

Dave shifted uncomfortably, then whispered. “You know… omega stuff.” He swallowed. “Like… how we’re going to mask your scent and keep you safe.” He shifted uncomfortably again. “And then there’s,” he gave an embarrassed little cough, “there’s your…. ummmm…” his cheeks were bright red now, “there’s your…” he looked down and finally mumbled, “your heats.”

“Oh,” Klaus said breezily. “No need to worry about that, I have the suppressor implant.” He waved Dave’s words off with a distracted flap of his hand. “And the IUD, too” he added as an afterthought. “With the scent thing, though, I thought you said the others were all betas? They won’t be able to smell me. Only alphas can smell omegas. And there’s just you, so I’m all good.”

Dave frowned, confused. “What do you mean implant?”

“The heat suppressor implant,” Klaus clarified. “I have been – almost exclusively – since I was in my teens.” His face darkened. “My dad made me. He didn’t trust me. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to get bonded to the first alpha that came along, or get myself knocked up at seventeen. But I would have liked the chance to masturbate my way through my heats in my locked bedroom like a normal teenage omega. What I really needed was a whack-off dildo. But, oh no! That’s not okay for Number Four. He had to have the medical implant instead.”

Dave frowned deeper, trying desperately to keep up.

“Are you saying,” he said slowly, “that you have something implanted in you that’s stops you going into heat?”

“Umm, yeah,” Klaus drawled, looking at him as though Dave was the one talking nonsense. But then his eyes got really wide and he snapped his mouth shut.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, staring into the middle distance. “They didn’t start doing that until…” he paused, “So nobody here has…” he trailed off again.

“Klaus?” Dave prompted.

Klaus gave a deep sigh. “Look,” he said. “I can’t explain it. But we don’t need to worry about my heats. I’m good for easily another few months.” He sighed again deeply. “And by then I expect Five will have… done something anyway... probably come and got me. So, I’ll be long gone before that’s an issue.”

Dave choked. “There are five of them after you?”

“What?” Klaus frowned. “No, Five. My brother Five.”

Dave was completely lost. “Okay,” he said slowly, still not quite sure what had happened but somehow trusting that Klaus knew what he was talking about. “Okay, that’s good, I think. So unexpected heats is something we can cross off the list of worries.”

“Yes.” Klaus gave a definitive nod. “So go on, what else did you have on that list?” Klaus asked. “It was my scent, wasn’t it? I don’t get what’s the big deal is if we’re just surrounded by betas?”

“Everyone else in our unit are betas,” Dave confirmed. “But there are alphas in the other units. I mean,” he added delicately, “I don’t know if any that are openly… you know…” he trailed off.

“Gay?” Klaus supplied.

“Yeah,” Dave said thankfully. “But, I mean, that’s not to say there aren’t any. If they were they’d probably – no definitely – try to hide that.�� Dave twisted his face in discomfort. Klaus was looked at him unblinkingly, a question lodged behind his slightly furrowed brows.

Dave swallowed again and tried to steady his breathing, determinedly not making eye contact. He couldn’t let Klaus know that he was talking about himself. Not after everything Klaus had said earlier about manipulative alphas only being kind to omegas for sex. He wanted Klaus to feel safe. He wanted Klaus to trust him.

So Dave couldn’t let him know that he was one of those kind of alphas. The ones who were attracted to men. The alphas who were almost as rare as male omegas. After what Klaus had shared about his past, he didn’t want Klaus to feel scared of him. He didn’t want to make him feel like… prey.

Klaus was one hundred percent safe with Dave. Dave knew he would never force himself on anyone. But Klaus didn’t know that. Klaus would just see him as a potential threat. Even worse, he might think that he was manipulating him, that Dave had befriended him on false pretences, only to get close to him and... and… Dave shuddered.

Klaus had made it very clear – he was running from an abusive alpha. So absolutely under no circumstances could Dave let him know his preferences. The competing alpha urges battled inside him again: desire and protection. Protection won.

“So,” Klaus said slowly, “you’re saying I need to be careful to hide the fact that I’m an omega from the alphas in other units, not because they’d want to fuck me – because they’re probably not interested in that – but because they’d out me as an omega. And I’d then be sent… back.”

“Yeah,” Dave nodded. “And if back isn’t safe for you, then we need to make sure they don’t find out, so that you can stay here where you’re safe. Safer.”

“Okay,” Klaus said. “How do we hide my omega-ness from them, then?”

“Well,” Dave said, “for a start, don’t tell anyone you’re an omega.”

“Good one, Sherlock” Klaus grinned.

“Secondly,” Dave said ignoring Klaus’ comment with a small shrug and a roll of his eyes, “I guess, try to keep the scent glands in your neck and wrists covered as much as possible. Clothing is okay for a start, but if you’re going to be around alphas for any length of time, it might be a good idea to cover up even more… bandages or dressings maybe? Or – at a push – a layer of mud might work.”

“That sounds gross.” Klaus wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I know, it sucks,” Dave pulled a sympathetic face, “but it’s safer.”

“It sucks to be safe!” Klaus huffed in frustration. “And you have no idea how much it really sucks. I’m not really one for coving up. I like to live my life scantily clad.”

Dave swallowed and looked resolutely ahead.

“You know…” Klaus said in a sing-song voice, “bare chested twink, make the boys wink…”

“Twink?” Dave frowned.

“That would be me, Dave,” Klaus said, waving his arms in a flourish that took in his whole body. He did a quick twirl on the spot.

“Oh.” Dave could feel his face heating up again.

“Or,” Klaus carried on, “if you want to sin, show some skin… to make him cum, bare your tum.”

“They’re,” Dave swallowed, “interesting rhymes.”

Klaus let out a musically little giggle and batted his long eyelashes theatrically. “All of my own creation, Davey. And anyway… what more do you expect? I’m just a little omega sex toy, there’s nothing up here in my head. I’m only good for one thing… pleasuring horny alphas.”

Dave frowned. “Omegas are worth so much more than that,” he said seriously. His mouth had gone very dry.

“Dave, it’s fine, I was joking.” Klaus said with a little shrug.

“No,” Dave said. “It’s not okay. I know what the law says, but general perceptions aren’t so fast to change. And it’s not fair that omegas are still treated like second class citizens. You shouldn’t feel like you have to act a part just because it’s what’s expected of you. You should be able to be exactly who you want to be.” Dave’s voice had risen and he was breathing deeply. The ironic weight of his words rang in his ears long after he’d finished talking.

“I completely agree,” Klaus said seriously, all frivolity stripped from his face. He looked vulnerable and open again. “I’m absolutely an advocate for omega rights. And it’s good to know that you’re an omega ally. Those rhymes though… I know it might seem like that’s me conforming to an expected stereotype, but actually, it’s the opposite. I hate being told that I shouldn’t embrace my sexuality because it negates years of omega rights protests. Acting like a flirt doesn’t mean I don’t believe omegas should have equal rights in society, whether they’re bonded or not. As far as I’m concerned, there’s a world of difference between choosing to act like a sex object and being forced into it. And I hate it when other omegas imply I’m being a bad omega, like there’s a right way and a wrong way. Fuck everyone who says acting like a stereotype propagates the wrong impression and makes it okay for alphas to treat us that way. That’s just victim blaming. If alphas act like fucking dicks, that’s on them, not us!” Klaus took a long, shuddering inhale.

“I’m sorry I said anything,” Dave said sincerely. “I’m sorry if I upset you or I said the wrong thing. I’m not always the best at talking about this kind of stuff. All I meant to say was… I think omegas get a raw deal and… and… and I’m on your side.”

Klaus smiled contrite. “I know, I’m sorry that got a bit heavy. And don’t worry, you didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just omega politics!” He blew out a frustrated breath.

Dave pulled a sympathetic face.

“Anyway,” Klaus said, gathering himself again, “where were we? Oh, yeah, slathering me in mud and making me cover up like a nun.” He grinned and did his funny little two eyed blink again. “Any other ideas about how to mask me up and make me the least fuckable guy in the country?” His voice was light and Dave knew he was only joking.

Dave cleared his throat. “Umm,” he started, “I thought maybe… you could wear my clothes?” He could feel his cheeks heating up again. “After I’ve had them on, I mean. That way my natural alpha smell might cover yours a bit. But you don’t have to,” He added hurriedly, “if you think that’s weird or gross or whatever. It was just an idea.”

Klaus shrugged. “Nope, I mean, that’s a perfectly logical idea. To other alphas, a faint alpha smell mixed with a fait omega smell will probably come out smelling like… well, probably like a bit of a funky smelling beta. But I can deal with that.”

Dave nodded. “I know it’s less than ideal, but I think that’s probably the best option. Other than that, I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear.”

Klaus paused, then said slowly. “So, basically, I’m not really safe here unless you help me. I have to stay on your good side, or else bad things could happen to me? That sounds like it’s come straight from victim testimony.”

Dave grimaced. “Yeah, I totally see where you’re coming from with that. All I can say is that… I’m not like that. I genuinely just want to help you. I know that sounds pretty pathetic and not very reassuring. But the bad things are genuine threats, and we’re in the unusual situation where I actually am the only one who can help. So hopefully you can learn to trust that I am actually an okay guy.” He gave an apologetic little shrug and looked over towards Klaus. “I’ve got your back, soldier. Whether you believe me or not.”

Klaus cocked his head to one side and appraised him seriously, but Dave thought he could smell something light and teasing in the air.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we… soldier?” He said eventually.

“I’ll take that,” Dave said calmly, his face soft and open and honest. Klaus just looked back at him, his expression unreadable.

They had walked on a few more paces before Dave looked over at Klaus warily. “There is something else I should probably tell you.” He said slowly.

Klaus’ ears pricked up and he looked over at Dave quickly. Dave’s nostrils flared, expecting a wave of apprehension from Klaus, but instead all he caught the scent of was… hopeful. He faltered and looked over at Klaus, whose eyes were large and fixed on Dave’s face.

“There is an alpha in another unit,” he started and watched as Klaus’ face fell slightly before his eyes. “I don’t really know, but I have heard… rumours.”

Klaus frowned again. “What kind of rumours?”

“Well,” Dave said. “I heard that… when he was back home… he was arrested a couple of times for abusing omegas, but he got off on technicalities.”

Klaus swallowed and his upper lip twitched in suppressed anger. “Bastard,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Dave intoned flatly. “But look,” he added quickly. “I don’t know if that’s true. It could just be an ugly rumour.”

“All rumours start with a grain of truth somewhere. Except when Allison’s involved.” Klaus grinned. “Man, I wish I could introduce people like that to Allison. She’d sort them right out!” He barked a laugh.

Dave fought the urge to ask who Allison was, and instead said, “I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Just in case, you know. Just to be extra careful around him. He’s big. And not just alpha big. I mean, he’s big big. He could probably snap you in two with his little finger.”

“And by that you actually mean he’d split me in half. Right up the middle.”

Dave grimaced. “Well, I was trying to put it delicately.”

“Yeah, I know you were. Thanks though, I’ll watch out for him. Maybe you can point him out to me?”

“Sure,” Dave agreed.

They walked a little further in silence. It wasn’t exactly the comfortable silence of earlier, but Dave at least felt content that he’d said what needed to be said and was happy they’d come up with a plan. After a few more steps, Klaus chimed up.

“It really doesn’t seem fair that omega biology makes us so much smaller and slighter alphas. I mean, why do we have to be as small as betas. We’re the ones expected to mate with alphas. Alphas who are biologically huge!” He turned towards Dave and looked up into his eyes. Dave looked down at him, really appreciating for the first time the size difference between them. “I mean, everything is just so big about alphas. Their height, their build, their personalities, their cocks…” Dave choked slightly and Klaus grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, I am into alpha cocks, but biologically they really are unnecessarily enormous.” Dave looked resolutely ahead, but dimly he was aware that Klaus’ gaze had travelled down to his crotch and the noticeable bulge in his uniform pants.

“The size thing is all very well when it’s an alpha you’re into,” Klaus continued, his gaze still lowered. “But when it’s a predatory alpha throwing his weight around, it’s a bit disconcerting. Omegas should at least have some sort of biological defence mechanism to protect ourselves from alphas like that. Like skunk stick gas, or retractable cat claws.”

Dave let out a loud laugh. He brought a hand up to cover him mouth.

Klaus watched him with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh my god,” Dave huffed out a chuckle. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’m just picturing you with tufty ears and a tail, like a hybrid feline-man… or a cat-boy or something. That’s so wild.”

“Wow,” Klaus said under this breath. “Just wait ‘till you realise what that means, it’s going to blow your mind.”

“What?” Dave asked.

“Oh, never mind, ignore me” Klaus said hurriedly. But he was still grinning.

They turned a bend in the track and suddenly ahead of them they could see the camp site and others in their unit already hard at work.

“I guess it’s back to war now then,” Klaus said shakily.

“I guess so,” Dave replied slowly.

“I’ve got to say,” Klaus grinned, “I really can’t wait to wear that shirt tomorrow.” He nodded at Dave’s chest and furrowed his brows in a mock thoughtful look. “I just don’t think clothes feel right unless they’ve been worn in first by another man during a six hour hike through a tropical rainforest. Clothes are just missing something if they don’t come dirt encrusted and pre-stiffened in dried sweat.”

Dave grimaced and looked down at himself, noticing for the first time his pit stains and the dampness across his chest and back.

“Maybe I’ll give this a quick rinse first,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t you dare,” Klaus said firmly. “I need all the alpha musk I can get, remember. Come on, Dave,” he said biting his lip slowly and looking up – way up – into Dave’s face, “you have to mark me. Cover me in your scent.”

Dave swallowed hard and forced his breaths to come evenly. As he looked down into Klaus’ breathtakingly beautiful face, he thought there must be some sort of trick of the light as the sun set slowly beneath the horizon in a pool of blood red light, because he could have sworn he saw a faint blush spread across Klaus’ nose and cheeks, the flush working its way down his throat.

“O-okay,” Dave stammered.

Klaus just blinked slowly and raised his gaze from Dave’s lips to his eyes.

Maintaining this charade, Dave thought ruefully, is going to be much harder than I thought.

#klave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #the umbrella academy #klaus/dave #klaus x dave #tua

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chaoticbi-cheesecake · 4 years

Text

Paper Airplanes and Face Masks (Hournite)

Summary: Beth has Rick over for the night and is determined to get him in a face mask.

Warnings: Mild allusions to abusive gardian.

Category: Fluff

Note: this is my first attempt at fanfiction, please leave your thought about it below:)

Training lasted longer than usual that day. By the time it was over, the sun was already saying goodbye and slowly receded to the west. Pat had tried his best to make the obstacles more difficult in an effort to mirror what he believed was to come in the battles ahead.

The new JSA tried their best to work with and without their abilities, all while trying to work together as a team. It was challenging to say the least, not many of them had much experience working with others.

Curly blonde locks stuck to Courtney's face as she asked Yolanda if she needed to be driven home. The other girl thankfully accepted the offer before running off to grab her things.

Pat, hearing he was now driving Yolanda, went to the next girl who had no mode of transportation.

"Do you need a ride?" He asked Beth who faced away from him, her eyes instead on the boy leaning on the entrance of the building.

"Oh, no thank you." she replied sweetly.

"Okay, just make sure to get home safe." the man instructed, making his voice loud enough for the boy to hear him as well.

Rick turned his head to Pat, giving him a single nod before pushing himself off the wall and walking out toward the road.

"Will do Mr. Dugan." Beth replied brightly before briskly walking in the direction of the boy, goggles slung around her neck, the straps of her backpack gripped in broth her hands.

She found him standing still outside of the building, staring at his path home with a scowl.

He wasn't all that fond of going back to his house, knowing who would be there when he arrived, though with the hourglass he would be able to defend himself if need be. He quickly found himself sinking into his own mind, the multitude of reasons why that was a very bad idea taking over his thoughts.

His dark thought process was interrupted by a hand delicately brushing against his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Beth asked in her sweet, yet concerned voice.

Rick nodded curtly and turned his gaze to the ray of sunshine beside him. Beth wore her wide smile and big doe eyes, wearing him down and making him want to tell her everything.

But he didn't, thinking better of it.

"I'm just getting ready to walk home."

"Me too!" she shook her head eagerly.

He nodded once more, awkwardly, in a gesture of understanding.

The two stood in a thick silence, Beth's hands were now shoved deep in her jean pockets as she contemplated opening her mouth again.

Rick began to walk in the direction of his house when Beth let out a quick, "Do you want to come over to my house?"

The boy stilled wondering if Beth had actually offered.

"I mean, you can if you want to. My parents are working tonight, and tomorrow night, and most nights. They've been doing that a lot recently." she laughed in an attempt to hide her sadness.

"It's getting dark, my uncle won't like me out for so long."

He heard the girl shuffle closer.

"You know, if he tries anything, Pat can always take his robot and exchange some...words," she tried. "Or any of us could suit up and do it. Not just for this, just any time you need."

Rick almost laughed, the image of Beth in her costume coming to his door to threaten his uncle, huge goggles and all, entering his head.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm still not sure that's the best ide-" he stopped himself at the sight of Beth, shoulders slumped, but eyes still bright as ever.

He realized in that moment that she was just like him, lonely and in need of some company.

"Umm...maybe just for tonight." he gave in.

"Yes!" Beth squealed excitedly, hooking her arm through his and turning them in the direction of her house.

As they walked, Beth rattled on about everything from homework to superheroes. Rick had to hold back the smile that threatened to make it's way onto his face at the sound of her enthusiasm.

They made it to Beth's house quite quickly. The girl unlinked their arms and began to rummage through her bag in searched of her keys. Rick wouldn't admit his disappointment at the lack of contact, but he would make note of how he suddenly felt the warmth leave his body when Beth pulled away.

They entered into darkness, no one was home and all the lights were off, Beth haphazardly used her hand to search the wall beside her for the light switch. As she flicked it on, brightness washed over the two. Rick squinted his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light.

"Okay, you can put your stuff here, or you can take it to my room, or just keep it with you. Whatever you want to do." Beth supplied as she began speeding to her kitchen. "Alright, what kind of snacks do you like? We have a bit of everything, sweet, sour, savory. Unless you wanted some dinner, I should have some leftovers from the other day that I could heat up for you." she offered.

"No thanks."

"Are you sure, I have cookies." she called, walking out of the kitchen and holding a clear container filled with some cookies she had caught Rick eyeing the day prior.

This time he couldn't stop his lips from turning upward in a small grin, he nodded his head.

Beth pumped her fist in the air before grabbing Rick's arm and dragging him to her room. She plopped down on her bed opening the container and taking a bite out of the sweet.

"So what do you want to do first?" she questioned, extending the box for Rick to take from. "We can do homework, watch a movie, Chuck has this great karaoke setting-" she gasped. " Ooh, we can do face masks. I was going to do them with Court and Yolanda next weekend but there's no time like the present."

"No."

"What why?"

"Cause I don't want you putting anything on my face."

"But it'll be fun." she tried.

"Nope. Let's just finish the homework and then you can pick a movie." Rick countered.

" How about we finish the homework and then we do face masks."

"Not happening."

"I can help you," she sang "and Chuck knows all the answers."

"Still no." Rick shook his head calmly.

Beth's shoulders slumped but she soon fixed her posture and shrugged. She grabbed her backpack from the side of her bed. She shuffled through it and pulled out her folder full of assignments. She grasped her geometry packet and began working on it. Rick sat down at the foot of the bed, he too got out the homework and began start on the page.

They worked in mostly silence for half an hour, Beth occasionally looking to Chuck for guidance, earning a long and extremely detailed account of every question and answer she asked about. Rick tried his best to focus on the paper in front of him, but he was just plain disinterested in the numbers, letters, and shapes on the page. He instead opted to scribble down the first answers that came to his mind, accuracy be damned, just wanting to finish as soon as possible.

He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to restore the little energy he had before taking out the assignment to no avail. When he looked back to the work, he was surprised to see a paper airplane made out of a sticky note set on top of his work.

He stared at the small plane in front of him before turning his gaze to Beth who was laying on her bed, appearing to be concentrated on the packet on her bed, tapping her pencil on the comforter as she looked over the page.

Rick moved his eyes back to the paper airplane, gingerly unfolding the wings to see in neat handwriting the words,

Face mask plz:)

He snapped his head to the girl who's face was now hidden behind her folder. She peeked her head out shyly only to see Rick rolling his eyes playfully and once again shaking his head no.

Turning his attention back to his homework, Rick wrote down the solutions to three more problems before an airplane landed on his lap.

He haphazardly opened the paper up to read the words,

Please. It'll be really fun. Please.

Before Rick had the chance to reply with a no, yet another airplane cascaded across his field of vision landing just beside his shoe. He leaned to pick it up and undid the neatly folded paper.

Pretty please with cookies on top?

Rick furrowed his brows and turned his body to face to girl, who was now at the foot of the bed, her chin was resting atop the box of cookies from before. Her big eyes and hopeful smile pleaded with him to reconsider.

He caved.

He let his head fall to his chest and pinched the bridge of his nose. He raised one hand and lifted his index finger.

"Once, we do this once."

Beth's entire face lit up as she squealed "Yay!" dashing off her bed she leaned down to give Rick a quick hug before running to get the supplies from her bathroom.

Rick begrudgingly made his way over to the side of her bed and sat down uncomfortably. But if he was being honest, he would do this a thousand times just to see the overjoyed expression that overtook her features at his compliance.

She returned holding a tube in one hand and a brush in another. Rick guessed to brush would be used to apply the mask.

"Okay, you ready?" she asked, popping open the cap and squeezing out a dollop of the mixture onto the brush.

"Why is it green?" Rick interrogated.

"Because it's matcha." Beth said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. At Rick's confused face she explained sweetly, "it's a type of green tea that's really popular to use in face masks."

He nodded cautiously as Beth stepped closer to him. She was directly in front of him as she softly touched the brush to his face. He hissed and pulled back quickly.

"Why is it cold?"

"It's not necessarily that it's cold. It's just that you're hot." Rick's eyebrows shot up. Beth didn't even realize what she had said until he made the gesture. "I didn't mean it like that! Not that you're not, it's just that- ugh, I meant body temperature. The average human body is between 97 and 99 degrees Fahrenheit and this," she held up the face mask tube, "is very much below that temperature." she rambled. "Besides, would you rather this be warm?"

Rick just stayed silent.

Beth gently brushed all around his face, sometimes imploring him to stop scrunching up his face. Rick hated to say it, but it was actually kind of relaxing. There weren't many times where someone tried to take care of him for a change.

"Alrighty, all done." the girl announced, removing the brush from his face and stepping back.

"How long do I have to keep this on for?"

"Until it's completely dry."

"And when is that?"

"Ummm..." Beth searched for an answer. " once it's hard to smile, you should be good to wash it off."

"I don't smile."

"I'm well aware, you can just wait till I take mine off."

She moved over to her mirror and began applying the mask to herself.

"I feel like an idiot." Rick complained.

"You are not, you look super cute!" Beth chided.

"I'm not sure if that's worse."

The boy watched her apply the mask all over her face, he couldn't control the expression of love and adoration that graced his face as he observed her.

He stayed like that for God knows how long until Beth turned to fully face him. He could say with the utmost confidence it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life. Her face was green like his and a wide smile lit up her face.

There was no denying the smitten appearance he held as he gazed at Beth.

He was ripped from his trance when he heard the snap of Beth's phone camera. She smiled cheekily and clasped her hands behind her back.

"Beth." Rick began dangerously. "Don't do it Beth." already knowing she would share the photo.

"Just let me send it to Court and Yolanda." she pleaded.

"No, Beth."

Beth gripped her phone tightly behind her back as her eyes wandered to her open room door. Rick saw the plan forming in her mind and raced to beat her to the door. She ducked under his arm and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Rick knocked on the door frantically, "Come on, Beth. What's the point?"

"The point is you look adorable and that is not something that should be hidden from the world. And by world I mean the team." she called from behind the door.

"Beth Chapel I will turn this hourglass over right now and take this door off it's hinges." he said in an attempt to sound threatening.

"We both know you won't," Beth stated matter of factly.

"Dammit." Rick grit his teeth knowing she was right.

He heard the door unlock behind him, Beth wore a wide grin. He groaned, knowing he was completely incapable of actually being mad at her.

"Was it at least a good picture?" he asked, defeated.

"You tell me," Beth instructed, handing over her phone to the boy before slipping past him and back to her room.

The screen showed a picture of Rick, covered in a green face mask. But that's not what really got him. Plastered on his face clear as day was a lovestruck expression that could rival that of Beth's favorite rom-coms.

He sighed, accepting his fate. There would for sure be hell to pay the next day. He was certain Courtney and Yolanda would never let him live it down. But at the moment he wasn't to bothered.

"Is it okay if I put on 'The Breakfast Club'?" He heard from the other room. He lowered the phone and walked back to the room, prepared to spend the rest of the night with the adorable being that was Beth Chapel.

The End ♡

Again I will reiterate, this is my first time posting a fanfic so I would really appreciate some positive feedback, or if there was something you saw that you didn't really like please leave it in the comments, politely please. I am but an emotionally fragile egg trying my best. If you want to see more hournite oneshots or headcanons let me know. Thanks

Sincerely, Tessa.

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manage-mischief · 4 years

Text

Number 4, Privet Drive

Read on AO3 or FF.net

Summary: Today is Harry's 5th birthday, and his godfathers have a surprise in store. AU: In which Sirius Black and Remus Lupin raise Harry, and Number 4 Privet Drive is his happy place.

Notes: Enjoy a little bit of hastily-written wolfstar fluff in honor of Harry Potter's birthday. There’s also a little nod to my other series, Regulus Black and the Darkest Shadows, if you squint ;)

Disclaimer: I do not how Harry Potter.

It was a sweltering, sunny July day. Residents of Privet Drive peaked out of their open windows—on the pretense of getting a bit of fresh air—to try and catch a glimpse of the curious commotion emanating from the equally-curious inhabitants of house number 4. The exterior of Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, was unremarkable. It was a carbon copy of the other homes on the block, which was a carbon copy of the other blocks in the town. However, the residents of Privet Drive knew that the happenings inside of this particular house were by no means ordinary.

On this day, inside the quaint, unremarkable house, two young men were standing near the fireplace mantle, hanging a green and purple banner. The darker-haired man—whose long, unruly locks and rebellious style unnerved the neighbors—was standing precariously on a chair. The lighter-haired man, whose face was friendly, though covered with a multitude of nasty scars, was spotting his partner, ensuring that he didn’t fall.

“No, just a little higher…” Sirius, the darker-haired man, grunted, stretching and climbing higher to fix the banner.

“Ouch, Sirius, that was my head!” Remus, the lighter-haired man, cried indignantly as his partner stepped onto his skull.

“Whoops sorry, Moons…just a little bit higher…there! Perfect!” Sirius hopped down from his perch and stepped back to admire his work. Remus rubbed his head.

“Honestly, Sirius, Harry wouldn’t have cared if the banner was a bit crooked. He’s only 5!”

Sirius shook his head firmly. “No. Everything’s going to be perfect for my little Pronglet’s special day. Are you trying to ruin Harry’s birthday, Remus?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Now, you know that’s not fair. I would never—”

“Great,” interrupted Sirius. “So, you’ll help me finish the decorations? Reg’ll be back with Harry from the zoo in about half an hour.”

Sirius wrapped his arms around his partner from behind and planted a kiss on his cheek. Remus chuckled.

“Of course, love.”

---

Before Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had moved in, Number 4 Privet Drive had belonged to a man named Dursley and his wife. The Dursleys were perfectly ordinary—if bit rude—and fit in very well with the monotonous existence of Privet Drive. However, on Halloween night of 1981, life on Privet Drive had been changed forever.

The Dursleys had received into their care their nephew, a little orphaned baby boy by the name of Harry Potter. The Dursleys had not wanted Harry Potter. Within days, it became clear to everyone living on the block that they were not properly caring for the boy. An eccentric old woman named Arabella Figg had blown up in their living room, berating the family for their mistreatment of the boy. The neighbors had watched the argument through the cracks in their curtains. When Mrs. Figg had gone, most of the neighbors had gone to bed, whispering back and forth to their families about the strange situation. Drama did not often occur on Privet Drive.

The next day, two young men appeared on the Dursleys’ doorstep. The men entered Number 4. Two hours later, the Dursleys left it. Sans Harry. It was clear to every resident of Little Whinging that these men did not belong. They were young, loud, and often spoke of unusual words and people and places. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black quickly became the talk of the town. Even after four years of peaceful living, most of the neighbors on Privet Drive still eavesdropped every chance they got, hoping from some tantalizing clue as to what made these two men so particularly peculiar.

Remus Lupin was quite aware of the talk surrounding himself and his little family. He didn’t much mind. When he and his partner, Sirius, had been informed of the mistreatment occurring at the hands of the Dursleys, they had no choice but to pack up everything and move into the Muggle neighborhood. That was their ultimatum, according to Dumbledore. Harry Potter must remain living in connection with his mother’s blood. The Dursleys still owned the deed to Number 4 Privet Drive. But, Sirius Black had offered them a large sum of money to leave their house, and their nephew, in his care. Thus, Remus and Sirius, the two adult wizards, settled into domestic living with their best friend’s orphaned son. Remus and Sirius loved Harry more than anything in their lives. Living a life separated from the majority of the magical world was a small price to pay for their godson’s safety.

Today was Harry Potter’s fifth birthday, and Remus and Sirius had planned a large surprise party for the occasion. They had invited all of Harry’s little friends, as well as their own adult friends, to celebrate.

“Rem, people are coming!” Sirius jumped up and down excitedly. Remus smiled. Sirius became more and more like his dog Animagus form with each passing day. Remus strolled down the narrow hallway to answer the door, Sirius on his heels.

“Minerva, how lovely to see you!” Remus embraced the older, severe-looking witch. Sirius followed suit.

“Minnie, always a pleasure!” The dark-haired man grinned, mischievously. He gave her a large, wet kiss on the cheek. Minerva McGonagall shook her head disdainfully.

“Sirius Black, I do hope you’re not exerting too much of a negative influence on Harry. It’s only six years now before he comes to Hogwarts and I don’t think my heart can take another you.”

“Ah, c’mon, Minnie, you loved teaching me!” Sirius laughed. “Besides, Remus here balances me out!” He wrapped his arm around his partner. Minerva tried to look disapproving, but couldn’t hide her growing smile.

“Well, come on in, Minerva. Sirius’s brother is bringing Harry along soon.” Remus gestured towards the hall, ushering the older witch inside their home. She stopped along the way to admire the many pictures adorning the walls. Every photograph contained images of Harry, occasionally accompanied by Remus, Sirius, or both. It was clear to every visitor in the home that Harry Potter was adored—that he was a happy little boy. This thought made Minerva smile. Her eyes teared up a bit as she looked back towards Sirius and Remus, who were wrapped around each other, inviting more of Harry’s guests into the house.

Half an hour later, the living room of Number 4 was packed to the brim with guests. Remus had drawn the curtains and flipped off the lights. He peaked through the shades, searching for any sign of Harry’s arrival.

“Are they here yet?” Sirius whispered anxiously, crouched down next to him.

“No, not since you asked five bloody seconds ago!” Remus hissed, turning for a moment to look at Sirius. He peaked his head back out.

“Are you sure you told them the right time? I mean—”

“Quiet!” exclaimed Remus. “They’re coming!”

Sirius shoved Remus out of the way to have a look for himself. Sure enough, strolling down the way toward the little house was his younger brother, Regulus Black, accompanied by his fiancée and Harry, the man of the hour.

“Hush, everyone, they’re coming!” Sirius whispered urgently. The room fell silent, apart from the sounds of the breaths of the gathered guests. One minute later, there was a knock on the door. Regulus’s signal.

Remus went to let them in. He shook his brother and future sister in laws’ hands before Harry seized him by the waist in a strong hug.

“Uncle Moony!” Harry exclaimed as he happily bounded into the house. “We had such a good time at the zoo! We got to see the big snakes!”

Remus grinned at his adoptive son, brimming with joy. “That’s wonderful, Harry! I know how much you love the snakes.’

“Yeah,” the boy agreed earnestly. “And look, Uncle Reg bought me this.” He held up a large, stuffed python proudly. Remus nodded appreciatively.

“Wow, lucky you! Did you thank your aunt and uncle for the birthday gift?”

“Yep!” Harry said happily. “Where’s Uncle Pads? Is it cake time?” Harry was almost vibrating with excitement.

“Why yes, I think it is. Why don’t you lead the way into the living room? I think Uncle Padfoot is waiting for you there.” Remus smiled slyly, exchanging a cunning look with Regulus before following Harry down the hall.

“SURPRISE!!!!” The lights flickered on and the guests jumped up as Harry entered the room. Harry grinned widely, revealing his missing front tooth. He laughed and jumped into Sirius’s arms.

“Wow! Look at all these people!” said Harry, wondrously.

“Yeah, Pronglet,” said Sirius. “They’re all here for you! Not every day a man turns five, now is it?”

But, Harry had stopped listening. He’d ran towards his best friends, the Weasley children, who all squealed excitedly at the sight of him. Remus wrapped an arm around Sirius’s waist and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“Good job,” said Remus.

“We should go into the party planning business,” Sirius teased back.

“Merlin, just as long as you don’t rope me in every time.” Regulus had materialized behind the couple.

Sirius turned to his brother and shook his hand. “Good to see you, Reg. Thanks for coming.”

“Anything for my nephew. You know, he’s a lot more fun to be around than you were at that age.” Regulus smirked. Sirius pretended to be hurt.

“Now, now, no brotherly rivalries today!” Regulus’s fiancée scolded the boys playfully. “But really wonderful job, you two. Harry looks so happy.”

“He certainly does.” Minerva McGonagall had joined the conversation.

The adults gazed over at the young Potter boy, who was now playing an intense game of Gobstones with his friends. Sirius felt tears prickle in his eyes.

“I hope so. I know it’s not the same as if Lily and James were—”

“I know, Sirius,” said Remus softly, holding tight to his lover. “I miss them, too. Especially on days like today. But, I think, somewhere, they’re happy, knowing Harry is being taken care of in a loving home.”

Sirius sighed, resting a head on Remus’s shoulder. “You’re right, Moons. I just…I love him, and you, so much.”

“I love you, too Sirius.”

“We want cake!” Their child’s scream interrupted the tender moment. The two young men laughed.

“Okay, Harry,” said Sirius, racing up to him and lifting him off of the ground in a massive hug. “I guess it must be time for cake!”

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b-rainlet · 3 years

Note

Gotham for the fandom ask thingy.

(I ran here so fuckin fast you have no clue)

Hello anon! :D I will answer this now, so you don't have to wait any longer but also....this would be very nice to answer through gifsets...(maybe when I am feeling up for it).

For now, have this:

(It's not proof read because I just sat at this for several hours and I don't wanna look at it anymore).

Favourite Male Character

You mean...besides the obvious answers?? :D

Ngl, it's S2 Jerome. I love that little twink with his parental issues and his tragic backstory and I wanna see him happy. There's a reason I have a bunch of AUs where he ends up having a family (mostly in the form of Lee as his Mother) and gets some actual help instead of being ostracized for being a mentally ill person snapping after years of abuse.

(This also ties into my very strong feelings regarding the fact that nobody actually helps the people at Arkham. And I don't mean the main villains there, I mean all the inmates who get treated like shit and are left behind on the regurlar (remember in S2 when Arkham was about to explode and nobody was talking about evacuating the inmates???? I do).

Other than that, one of my faves is also Jonathan. Which may be a little surprising because I barely talk about him but he was my favourite character throughout the show and he had way too little scenes.

(Kinda telling that the characters I latched onto are both helpless teens who were fucked over by the people who were supposed to protect them and can both trace their villain origin story back to Jim Gordon not caring enough about them lmao).

But the cast is big and varied enough that I actually like everyone? Butch, Zsazs, Penguin, S1 and 2 Ed, Jervis, Harvey, Jim......I like them all!!

(Special shoutout to 514A too, he was soft and baby and I wanted to keep him safe and sound really desperately).

(Another special shoutout to Barnes!! I didn't expect to like him when I first saw him, given he looked like he was gonna be mean and stoic and all, but I ended up really liking him and his story!)

Favourite Female Character

Let's just pretend Ecco doesn't exist for this answer ajdkaskaslj.

I fell in love immediately upon seeing Ecco but all! the women! are so!!! good!!!!

I especially have a soft spot for the side characters. I mean, upon first watching I got attached to Alice (even though she only features in two episodes lmao), and also Kristen Kringle - who isn't talked about much within Fandom, but she was pretty and her and Ed were actually quite cute but then she had to die for him to become the Riddler which was...pretty much telling us from the beginnning 'The woman here die to advance the men's plots'.

Barbara was also a big surprise to me because I figured she'd be the female love interest and nothing more but!! her and Jerome were the best thing in S2 and also the most entertaining thing about the Maniax Plot. (In several ways, I think I had the most fun watching this show during S2 , it was just. Good).

Also upon being in this Fandom and thinking about certain characters a bit longer I also really like Vicky Vale. And Montoya. And I wish they had kept both around for longer.

(I also wish they wouldn't have made Vicky a love interest for Jim. Or Sofia. No love interests for Jim except Lee and Barbara please).

Also Selina!! I love both Selina and Tabitha with all my heart - which may also be surprising because I barely ever talk about Tabby but I contain multitudes aklskddsm, and while I like sharing my horny thoughts about Ecco, I also love to think about Tabby and daydream about her being happy and exploring her (and Selina's) issues with showing weakness and affection and their strong loyalty regarding people that they trust.

I just.....women. Women good.

(Women also deserve to have more character than just being somebody's love interests and I have enough wips that completely sideline the guys to focus on the woman instead lmao).

Least Favourite Character

I don't have many characters that I hate??

I generally tend to instantly love everybody unless they are specifically made to be unlikeable. (I also spite-like characters who are hated for petty reasons, I just have a lot of love in my heart and not much energy for hate lmao).

But there were characters who annoyed me while I was watching.

For one, I think Gotham has a variety of super entertaining villains, but the main villains of each season tend to be....boring.

Safe for Strange they all kinda fell flat for me. Theo. Kathryn. Ra's Al Ghul. His Daughter. Mostly because their plotlines were less exciting than stuff like Jerome's carnival or Mother and Orphan's Hotel of Horrors.

Or their motives seemed a lot less understandable than the ones of the other Batman villains who pretty much always come from a place of suffering and abuse and break/snap under the pressure that's put on them (continuing this take of Gotham creating its own villains by leaving behind - mentally ill - people that need help, which I think is very true to most - if not all - Batman villains).

And then you have some characters that simply suffer from the fact that the show was cut short - which is pretty much any and every S5 character that had way too little screentime, but in this specific case means Jeremiah.

Because I disliked Jeremiah a lot while watching.

Without wanting to step on anybody's toes, him and Nygma are probably the two characters on this show I ended up disliking the most.

Mostly because Miah felt like a very cheap copy of Jerome and to this day I think it was a bad idea to replace Jerome with him, since Jeremiah - to me - seems like a super flat character.

Maybe if we had gotten him without meeting Jerome first, just having a Joker character introduced in S4, maybe I would've adored him, who knows.

But in comparison to Jerome...no. Just no.

(I will spare you from any longer rambles, but I think if you follow me, I talked about the ways Miah is lacking for me before).

My made up version of Miah though? I love him.

With Nygma it's even worse because I adored him. I instantly liked him. I was 100% behind him right up until the godawful Isabella plot happened and then it just all went to shit so quickly, I couldn't stand seeing him on screen anymore.

It's surprising that I didn't stop liking Oswald but to me, Oswald pretty much stayed the same while Ed became all bitter and hard and I just miss dorky S2 Ed you know?

It actually got so bad, I completely turned my back on Nygm/obblepot as a ship because I was so severly disappointed and I barely talk about Ed because I just can't stand what they did with him.

(Another victim of bad writing).

Favourite Ship

I'm just gonna stick to canon ships because I don't ever shut up about my Fanon ships so you probably know which ones I love the most :D

There isn't much romance going on within Gotham if I think about it - apart from Jim - which I definitely prefer. You wouldnt guess it from my blog, but I am not a fan of too shippy stuff because in most cases it just means sex scenes and I can live without those. I want action! Blood! Dead People! Not a two minute make-out session between two bland characters!

I gotta admit that Ed and Lee have some cute scenes and I would definitely ship them if I didn't dislike S4 Ed so much (S2 EdLee tho?? Yes).

Also I thought Jim and Lee was okay and Baby Batcat was quite cute at times but mostly I don't care about the canon ships.

I do ship Barbara and Jim though :D

I remember right before they hooked up in S5 I was like: 'I wouldn't mind if they got back together' and then went 'yay!' when they did and I wouldn't have minded a little more 'Will they?? Won't they??' between those two and them just having the mother of unhealthy relationships on this show.

(Also Jim/Barbara/Lee poly relationship but we can't have everything).

Favourite Friendship

So many good relationships on this show!

I need to rewatch the show soon because I probably already forgot about most of them but from the top of my head: Oswald/Butch and Oswald/Zsazs

Which were both then done dirty lmao. One by having Oswald be overly petty (one of the few times I was like...Pengy...wtf...) and the other by passing up the obvious opportunity to have Zsazs find out who really killed Falcone and just...letting Oswald and Victor never interact again.

Then of course Ivy and Selina which also gloriously fell apart. Just like Ivy and Oswald.

(Gotham isn’t the best when it comes to maintaining friendships).

And the biggest and most grandious friendship of them all: J Squad.

(Who have too little scenes together honestly and then also simply fell apart after Jerome died. Consistency who?)

Favourite Quote

I don’t know, I don’t have many quotes in my head from the show. Me and my niece mostly reference: “Yeah, that’s a spoon.” - “IT IS ALSO A FORK!!1!!!”

Also: “Gotta Go! Gotta Go! They’re after me and the Scarecrow!”

(There are some dialogue blurps I have written down somewhere because they are inspriration for gifsets but in order to be able to just recite some of them from Memory, I would have to watch this show way more obsessively).

Worst Character Death

I don’t even gotta say anything do I? :D

But I think the character death that actually made me cry was Jerome’s first death. I clearly remember crying because...he just wanted recognition! And praise! And instead he was used as a pawn and betrayed by someone he idolized and he was only 18! My poor little meow-meow!

Seriously, the only things that make me cry on this show: Jerome’s first death, any and all mention of Bruce as a baby - told by an emotional Alfred, any and all Bruce/Alfred interaction at all and Solomon Grundy.

This made me so happy you have no idea Moment

I seriously need to rewatch this show, it’s been so long :D

But I remember being pretty excited for the J Squad Team Up - because I was like ‘If I were Jerome I would definitely work with Tetch and Scarecrow since they’re also in Arkham atm’ and then he did!!

And I also distinctly remember in S3 that I was close to falling asleep right when they scene came on where Oswald realizes his feelings for Nygma and let me tell you - it caught me so off guard, I was awake instantly lmao.

(I knew that people shipped them but I was so used to mlm ships being popular when they only have a handful of scenes and are platonic friends that I didn’t expect them to actually have a possibility of being canon).

From then on I was super pumped for them to deliver on that ship but well....we all knew what happened asnksnndk.

Saddest Moment

Aside from the already mentioned scenes in the character death column, the scene where Bruce leaves and Selina runs to the airport. I always liked Selina but she wasn’t a priority character of mine (much like Bruce isn’t) but then that scene happened and in an instant, I felt super protective over her.

She is now my baby. My daughter. My beloved wife. She deserves everything and most importantly she deserves better than Bruce Wayne.

(Coincidentally that was also the scene where I decided I don’t care much about Bruce asldjkjlj. I absolutely adore early seasons Bruce though).

Favourite Location

There are so many different locations, I don’t think I can adequately answer this with my spotty memory :D

But I always loved the few episodes where Alice features, because I love how her scenes are shot so probably the little carnival Jervis prepares for her.

Also!! Jeremiah's church!

Or Commissioner Loeb's secret house (Especially the Attic).

There are a lot of cool locations, I gotta gif some of them soon :D

#Long Post #To do

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