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primofate · 3 years ago

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Breaking up Part 2 Albedo x gn!reader

Sorry it took so long! Haha. Yeah tumblr effed over for me. But here it is! :D

Scenario: Breaking up and getting back together again

Characters: gn! reader x Albedo

Warnings: angst, break ups, regrets, did I say angst? NOT PROOFREAD

Categories: angst in Part 1, comfort in Part 2 (It was getting too long so split it into two parts)

Read: (Part 1) (Part 3 - Final)

“Sucrose... Do you know where Y/N went?”

5 days 3 hours and 12 minutes. He’d been counting. He’d been counting since you left. It was only today that he had the courage to ask Sucrose about it.

Sucrose jumps at the sudden call of her name.

Albedo had not been the same. The frequent mistakes in the lab proved it. The constant slips of the hand and test tubes shattering on the floor told Sucrose that perhaps that was how his heart looked like too.

“...No, I don’t,” Sucrose simply says, then lets the silence of the lab fill the air. Only the bubbles from their experiments hanging. It was still for a moment, Sucrose going back to her calculations and research. Albedo sat in front of his alchemy set, blankly staring at it.

He doesn’t even understand what being “tired” feels like anymore. He hasn’t had a decent sleep. Every small movement in the house, every whisper of the wind he would bolt up in bed, thinking it was you coming in from the front door. Sometimes he would hear someone shuffling, he would stop and listen for you, but then realizes that the sound was the sound of his legs under the covers, trying to keep warm without you around.

Sucrose glances up at her mentor. He’s buried his face in his hands, his hair in slight disarray. She knew what was going to happen next. He was going to stand up and just walk away from the lab, and Sucrose was not going to see him until tomorrow again.

Tomorrow, the cycle would repeat.

Albedo couldn’t function. It was pathetic. He really thought that he must be such a sight right now, eyes heavy with exhaustion, hair down and clothes a little unruly. He ran away from the lab again. He abandoned his “important” experiment and went back home, retreating in his room, falling on his knees and slumping on the bed in front of him.

He buried his face into his arms and tried to piece his heart back together.

“Albedo, will you ever get tired of me?”

There was a soft hint of a frown on your face. Silly you, Albedo thought. Always worried about being apart from him. He only smiles and cups your chin in his hand, leans in close to press his forehead against yours to whisper, “Never,”

His fists clutch at the bedsheets, the fabric scrunching up under his hands. Every.damn.time. he tried to take a break, he would be reminded of you. Every thing reminded him of you. Breathing reminded him of you. It was as if you were right beside him and yet you weren’t.

It was him. He was supposed to be the one asking “Y/N, will you ever get tired of me?” He was supposed to be the one worried. But he hadn’t been because he had taken you for granted. He thought that you’d always just be there, waiting for him patiently as you always had but now that he was alone, he realized just how lonely this silence could be.

“You must have been lonely...waiting here for me in this silence...”

His voice was muffled by the sheets, and he didn’t know who he was talking to. He did that a lot these days. Saying things that he wished you could still hear.

The next day, just as Sucrose predicted. It was the same. Halfway through his experiment Albedo stopped, and stared at nothing in particular. She wondered if, whenever he did that, he remembered the things he said to you that day.

But, just as Sucrose thinks today would end up the same...

it didn’t.

“Big brother Albedo!” Klee stormed into the lab, the door slamming open really loud. “Oh...I’m sorry, I didn’t check the sign... I...” Klee stepped out to look at the door sign and found “KEEP OUT” still there. “Oh no...! I did a mistake! Sorry big brother,” the little girl fumbled with her fingers and swung from side to side to show her apology.

A hint of a smile appears on Albedo’s face and Sucrose was thunderstruck. There had been no expression on the Kreideprinz’s face for the longest time that the smile had felt so foreign. “It’s alright, Klee. Do you need help with something?” and his voice wasn’t hoarse. If there was anything that could cheer him up, it would be Klee.

He was done prioritizing his research over the people that really mattered.

“Look what I got! I’ve never seen such a pretty flower in Mondstadt before,” Klee showed off the blue flower to Albedo, eyes shining and wide. Albedo touched the petals as Klee held it up for him. “Ah, yes, Glaze Lilies. You can only find them in Liyue, Klee,” Albedo explains. Klee bounces excitedly.

“Ohhhh! That’s amazing! Y/N must have travelled there recently!”

The silence in the lab was deafening. Albedo’s hand drops from the flower as he looks at Klee, confused. Sucrose had stopped what she was doing, wide-eyed, staring at the young bomber. “...What do you mean, Klee?” Albedo whispered out.

Hearing your name said by someone else made it all the more real that you weren’t here with him anymore.

“Oh! See, Klee was in Windrise and... I was looking at the fishes...” Klee gasped a little, “Please don’t tell Master Jean!” she whispered pointedly but continued. “I saw Y/N there, and Y/N gave me a really big hug and gave me this Guh lays Lily,” the young girl got the name wrong, but Albedo hadn’t been listening anymore. He stood up and crouched down to eye level with Klee, hands on her shoulders. “W-When, Klee?” he clears his throat and tries again, “When did this happen?” Sucrose had also been listening and watching in bated breath. Klee gave one of her biggest, most innocent smiles, not knowing how crucial this information had been to Albedo. “Just now! I just came back from Windrise!”

Albedo didn’t feel the slightest sorry that he bolted out of the lab without explaining to Klee. She would understand and Surcrose was there. He sprinted towards the gates of Mondstadt like his life depended on it. In some senses, it really did.

I can make it.

He was panting hard. His footsteps thundering in his ears. His breath coming in quick ins and outs. His heart is about to fly off its cage.

I can make it. It’s just outside of Mondstadt.

Wind rushes past him, the pigeons on the bridge outside of Mondstadt, disturbed, flying away in a frenzy. Timmie shouting after him.

Please be there. Please.

It takes him longer than he wanted. He wanted to be faster, wanted to be there already but he was still running. Still chasing after that hope. The adrenaline he feels pumps in his veins and yet he is so out of breath that he needs to stop. His hands resting on his knees as he closes his eyes and tries to get his breathing even.

I have to keep going.

His legs were killing him. They were strained by the sudden rush of exercise and yet he still drags both towards Windrise. He could see the large tree at the horizon, but he was too far away to see if you were there. He continues to pant, steadying his breath, preparing for another burst of energy to run towards where he so desperately hoped you were. What if you weren’t there anymore?

What if he was too late?

What if he never saw you again?

“What if it doesn’t work...?” Albedo asks, pondering over the research and discussing it with you over dinner. He loved to talk about his experiments with you because you gave valuable insights on it, and really listened to him. You smile and give him the confidence that he needs, “Then you can try again, Bedo. You always find a way!”

He’s still panting by the time he reaches the steps leading up to the large tree. His eyes dart around. He circles around in place, wondering if you were around the area. He continues forward, stepping up to the big roots and yet again looked around, trying to spot your familiar tuft of hair/colour.

At the corner of his eye he spots something, behind the big tree. A Crystalfly. It was flying away and his eyes automatically follow it. There was a hand trying to reach out for it, but it barely grazed the Crystalfly’s wings. You stepped out from behind the tree, a little annoyed that you couldn’t catch the Crystalfly.

Albedo feels like he’s frozen in time. He stands there and watches the wind caress your hair. Watches as you tuck your hair back behind your ear. Watches as you turn around and start walking away. He snaps back to reality and moves forward, roots and sticks cracking under his feet as he struggles through the root laden path just to get near you.

You, hearing the disturbance from behind, turn around and was met face to face with the lover you left a few days ago. Something shatters inside you. You weren’t ready for this. You were far from ready to see him again. Why was he out here in the middle of the day? You stood still just as he did in front of you.

You notice how his hair is sticking to his face with sweat. The fast rise and fall of his chest. The pained look in his eyes. The closed up fists on his side. “Y/N--” his voice cracks and tears start to pool in your eyes.

You aren’t strong enough for this and you start to turn away.

Albedo rushes forward to trap you in a hug. His arms so desperately wrapped around you as his head rests on your shoulder. “Don’t,” he pleads. “Please don’t go. Come back with me, please,” there’s a different type of hopelessness in his voice. A moment later tears are streaming down your face.

“I-I can’t Albedo. I--” can’t put myself through that again. I can’t and don’t want to be alone at home all the time.

His body shakes and you realize it’s a sob that wracks his body. Your shoulder is slightly wet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please.” You’ve never seen him cry. Not like this. Not as he clings to you and admits defeat. “I...I couldn’t take care of you--It’s my fault. I know, but--”

“I like Windrise. It’s very relaxing.” You say as the two of you walk around the tree, collecting materials. “Is it?” Albedo responds, stopping momentarily to look up at the tree. “You don’t think so?” you curiously ask your lover. He ponders for a moment before smiling, “I think coming home to you is a lot more relaxing,” at the early stages of your relationship hearing something like that from him would cause you to blush.

You pry his arms away and look up at him. His head is dipped low and you can’t see his face clearly, concealed by his hair. You brush his hair away and lift his head up, and you see how streaks of tears run down his cheeks. You see the sleepless nights in his eyes. The hurt that creases on his forehead. You see what your absence has done to him, and all in one moment, you think that perhaps you were too harsh on him. That you should’ve talked it out instead of leaving so abruptly but you-- “I was hurt...” your lips tremble as you try to explain.

“I try, really hard, to make things easier for you. To care about you. I have never asked for anything grand.” You’re surprised at how level your voice is, despite feeling like you might break down just as he does.

“I’m aware,” Albedo wipes at his face, frustrated at himself. His tears have stopped. You were talking. That must be a good sign. “I don’t--Don’t deserve you,” but he steels himself and places his hands on your cheeks. God how long had it been since he touched you like this? and wipes away the tears that were silently falling from your eyes. “But I’ll take care of you. I’ll prove your worth. I... won’t make the same mistake again,”

And when Albedo said or promised something he was one of the few people that you believed in the most. He was trustworthy all the way, and was true to most of what he said. “You have my word... and if I do make the same error again then... Then you can leave. But right now I--” he moves to rest his forehead against yours, taking in the warmth and love that he had missed. “I’m asking for another chance,” he gulps. “Please,”

You stay quiet for a moment. Assessing the situation. But your eyes close at the closeness the two of you are in right now. There was no doubt that you still loved him. A few days would not change anything. A few days would not ruin the years that you spent together. But you were scared and guarded. You weren’t sure what would happen and if it was worth it. You were scared of being with him and being lonely. “...We... should talk and think a little bit more about this...” you conclude and give your answer, stepping away from him.

Albedo’s face grimaces in distraught, but turns into confusion when you take his hand and tugs on it slightly. “...At home, we can talk about this at home...Is that okay? Let’s go back first,” you would figure it out with him from there.

His head drops and he tries hard not to let tears escape again. He really didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve this kindness but he sure as hell would take it. He would take it and make it right again. He picks his head up and squeezes your hand, voice slightly soft and trembling, and smiles.

“Thank you. That’s perfect,”

and with his hand tight on yours, because he wasn’t letting you go again, the two of you make your way back.

Should I make a part 3 with fluff and write about the aftermath and how Albedo made it up to you? Let me know :D Message me :D Love me <3

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Taglist: @larkspyrr @rim0na @sweeti-pie @l3mon-mxshroom @hai-q-haikyuu @tkshoki @kyquu @kimbapsana @leefletter @hentaje @tempehlust @rinnesy @fanfictionenthusiast

#albedo x reader #albedo #genshin impact #genshin fics #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfics #genshin fanfiction #genshin angst #albedo angst

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willsimpforanyone · 2 years ago

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Hello! I would like to request a PJO headcanon where the reader is Will's older half sister (Percy's age), and what that would include? Maybe she and him can have similar powers, but she also has artistic ability? Maybe she could be a bit of a mom figure to her (very) young half sibilings? Thanks!

thank you for your patience, i have a burst of energy today so let's do this!

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as one of the older members of the apollo cabin, you tend to be the one the younger kids come to

this was especially true when it came to will

he didn't know anyone and you took him under your wing

people tend to expect a lot from apollo kids as they're associated with a lot of things- healing, music, artistry

you showed him that he didn't have to be good at everything

while you're both really good healers and spend a lot of time in the infirmary, will excelled in the medical aspect of apollo, even more than you

he is constantly amazed at your art, your masterful use of a paintbrush or pencil or even moulding clay

the poor kid could just about draw a smiley face

when he struggles with life as all demigods do, you are the person he turns to

he trusts you implicitly and absolutely adores you

when he got older the pair of you took on older sibling roles in the apollo cabin

the younger kids are often scared and confused

luckily you've had years of practice with kids like these

and will follows your example, mirroring the things you did for him when he was a scared kid

your crowning glory was a movie night for the cabin

for some reason about six 9-11 year olds had been claimed and moved into the camp in a week and the cabin had anxious, panicky vibes

something had to be done

will was slightly freaking out at the sudden influx of kids so you gave him a concrete task

you asked him to get a couple of the older kids and find as many blankets as they could

while the younger kids were out doing activities, you transformed the room with another sibling who was a month or so older than you

fairy lights were strung up, beds were all against one wall with mattresses on the floor, pillows were scattered around and thanks to the talents of the hermes cabin, there were enough bowls of popcorn for everyone

will and his little group came back and helped hang blankets from the walls and ceiling to create a smaller space that looked proper cosy

he had a childlike excitement in his eyes and you felt that even if you just made will happy, the effort was completely worth it

the movie night helped the kids settle in a bit and get to know the other members of the cabin, with you and will taking charge of the movies and silly sleepover games

you gave everyone little canvases and with a little demigod magic you brought their art to life

flowers moved in the breeze, cats meowed and purred and little people waved out the windows of houses

by the morning, everyone was exhausted but will hugged you tightly and said you were the best so honestly?

you wouldn't change a thing

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i very much hope you enjoyed, thank you for requesting!

#will solace #will solace imagine #half brother!will #brother!will #sister!reader #pjo

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shingia · 4 years ago

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Heya. I know this is very angsty of a request, but I saw the fic of characters reacting to their s/o who [tw] relapsed into self harm and was wondering if you would do some for asahi, ushijima, and oikawa?

[𝐓𝐖] 𝐒/𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐩𝐭.𝟐

hi ! ofc you can honey <3 i hope these will bring you as much comfort as you need, and plz don’t hesitate to dm me if you need to talk to someone, or to reach out for help in any way. here’s a hug for you bcs you deserve it, love you 💗

also im sorry but i really couldn’t imagine asahi ever arguing with his s/o so i didn’t include this in his fic (he really is too precious)

warnings : mentions of self harm, one mention of blood, some self-depreciating thoughts. please do not read if any of these might trigger something, stay safe everyone <3

➾ 𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐡𝐢

asahi trusted you blindly. and everyday, he had to make an effort to persuade himself that you trusted him in return. you did of course, how could you not trust the one that had helped you through so much ?

but this wasn’t about trust ; it was about shame. because the last thing you wanted was to find in his eyes the anguish and fear as they were a few months ago. you couldn’t do that to him, yet you kept doing that to yourself.

however, you had the misfortune - which was more of a blessing really - to have a very observant boyfriend who cared about you. and he cared enough to gather the courage to finally ask you about what he had hoped you’d come to him for. sat next to you on the couch, he took the plunge.

« do you… do you remember when you promised to always come to me if you needed help ? ». there, he had said it. and from the way that his arm tightened encouragingly around your waist, you understood what he meant by this innocent question. he kept speaking : « you know i trust you, right ? i really do. but something tells me that maybe you forgot about this promise recently ».

each of his words was carefully chosen, more than usual. because even if he didn’t show you, he was terrified of messing up. the fact that you were reluctant to answer was enough for him to understand that he had guessed right. but what confirmed it was the single tear that slowly streamed down your cheek.

« oh angel, no, come here. come, you’re ok now… » he spoke in a tone that was more comforting that anything you had ever heard. his arms were wide open for you to snuggle in, and when they wrapped around you, his words replayed once again in your head. i’m ok now, i’m ok now… you repeated internally. and you were, asahi was a man of his words after all.

« i’m sorry for being weak » you finally said after a few seconds of silence, voice half-muffled by his embrace. his warm fingers traced the outline of your face, encouraging you to look up to him. not because he needed to see your face, he already knew it by heart, but because you needed to see his. « weak ? y-you’re the furthest thing from weak. how can i even put it..? you are one of the strongest person i know, and i wouldn’t be half the man i am today if it weren’t for you.

you wanted to thank him, but exhaustion took hold of your body before any word could leave your tight throat. and when you woke up - two hours later according to the clock - asahi was still there, holding you tight against his heart like a promise to never let go of you anymore.

➾ 𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚

ushijima hated to waste time and energy on ‘petty fights’, as he liked to call them. but it was really frustrating to always feel like he avoided confrontation ; arguments were necessary in a relationship, and he didn’t seem to understand that.

whenever you got into fights, you were always the only one to get angry, which never failed to make you feel guilty afterwards. and eventually, this feeling of guilt started to become permanent, taking so much place in your brain that you had to sacrifice a part of the self-confidence you had built up the past months. but you didn’t know how much longer you could conceal it.

tonight was the first time you were sleeping together since your most recent fight, the one that had damaged you so badly. and you couldn’t lie, feeling his warmth next to you after about three days spent ignoring him almost felt like a reward. but a reward for what ? you were certainly not proud of what you had done, and you were terrified at the thought that he’d ever notice it. but unfortunately, your efforts to pretend like everything was ok were put to an end in the middle of the night, at about 3 am. something silly, really : ushijima had just turned around in his sleep, and his shoulder accidentally weighed on your wrist, making you hiss in pain. he immediately opened his eyes at the sound, his hand immediately finding its way to your side - he was always a light sleeper with you.

« are you ok ? » he asked, propping himself on an elbow, barely distinguishing your silhouette in the dark. « yeah, just my wrist. come on, let’s go back to sl- ». oh… that wasn’t supposed to be said out loud. it was hard to gauge his reaction since you could not properly see his face, but since he sat on the bed as soon as you interrupted yourself, you understood that it had not fallen on deaf ears. « are you comfortable with me turning on the lights ? » he asked, obvious concern in his voice. saying yes was tempting, because you knew this was a serious matter, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him see you like this, vulnerable and ashamed.

ushijima accepted it of course, he knew he was not the best with words, so the least he could do was to make sure you were comfortable with whatever he decided to do. « is it ok if i hold you ? » he asked once again, his tone a bit more hesitant. the muscles in your jaw tensed at his words, it was more than ok, or at least you wanted to give it a try, but the worry you had caused him was bringing you back to the familiar feeling of guilt.

however, when he carefully made you rest on top of him like he had always done, something inside you felt healed to know that whatever you were going through did not impact every aspect of your life. his embrace felt the same, so did his heaving chest that rocked your body to sleep every night. surprisingly enough, you did not shed a tear. because the comfort finally felt stronger than the pain, you refused to let anything trouble this moment.

« are you ready to talk about it ? » he questioned, his voice rumbling like a soothing storm in his chest « or do you prefer to wait until tomorrow ? ».

ushijima might have avoided many discussions with you, but this one ? he simply refused to. and if he was more than ready to help you overcome your pain, he also knew not to pressure you into talking. words would come, eventually. but actions were always first.

➾ 𝐨𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚

despite his usually confident behavior, oikawa knew he had a tendency to second-guess each and every one of his actions, and to beat himself up quite often.

he could not remember the last time he had felt so utterly disgusted by himself, he was usually more careful with his words. but all it took was one angry outburst from him for you to withdraw into yourself - and he had to fix this as soon as possible.

luckily for him, your relationship was strong enough not to be too affected by this argument - which had not been your first, but definitely the biggest one. however, you had been affected. a lot actually. but you knew better than to talk to him about this, knowing that he would obviously take the blame for your relapse.

but oikawa was attentive, and, clever as he was, it did not take long for him to guess what you were going through when he saw the red-stained tissues in the bathroom trash. it had been two weeks since your fight, and just the thought that he had left you alone with your struggles for so long made him want to throw up.

without wasting any more second, he burst out of the bathroom and made his way to the living room where you were absent-mindedly watching a movie. he would have preferred to have a discussion with you with a clear head, but the sight of the tissues kept spiraling in his head and he was incapable of doing anything else but to pull you in for a hug whose suddenness made you gasp.

oikawa’s hugs were usually soft, with little kisses here and there and a few compliments chuckled in your ear. but today had nothing to do with those. his arms were engulfing your figure in a desperate need to feel you against him, like he was trying to make up for all the time he had left you alone. « i’m so sorry, so sorry baby… can you forgive me ? » he breathed out, his voice cracking with emotion. obviously you knew what he was referring to, how could you not know ? and just like him, the thousand words on your mind only transcribed in your arms wrapping around him, closing the last few millimeters that separated you as you frantically nodded your head yes.

you did not think he had anything to be forgiven for, and sadly, you also knew that he would continue to blame himself no matter what your answer had been. that was actually your biggest motivation to begin your recovery journey. oikawa needed to know that, from now on, you’d turn to him instead of your old habits. and you wanted nothing more than to make him happy, so, since his happiness seemed to depend on yours, it could be considered a package deal towards a better future, together.

before you leave, here are links to two mental health support apps that i hope will help you deal what you are going through right now. i know it’s not much but i’ll be the happiest girl if this helped someone in the tiniest way. take care of yourselves ❤️

Calm Harm - Play Store | App Store

Wysa - Play Store | App Store

@toworuu @catwithangerissues

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu comfort #haikyuu angst #asahi azumane #asahi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader

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fiddlepickdouglas · 4 years ago

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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 1 - Ribbit

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, THE meetcute of meetcutes. 2.1k

Edit: thank you so much @trevor-wilson-covington for the pretty edit!! I'm in love with it!

Alex drummed his fingers on the armrest of his seat in the van. The drive from Los Angeles to Vegas was just short of four hours, but it had been an early morning and it was going to be a long day. He was feeling the carsickness sit just under the threshold of dangerous and rolled down the window.

“Whoo! Twenty miles boys!” Luke called out as they passed a sign on the freeway, clapping Bobby on the shoulder from behind.

“Woohoo!” Bobby responded in excitement.

“Think you’re gonna make it, buddy?” Reggie looked over at Alex. Alex turned only a fraction of the way toward his friend and gave a half-hearted nod.

“Hey man, let us know if we gotta pull over,” Luke said.

He simply nodded. Next time he wasn’t going to sit in the back.

The other three were jamming to whatever Luke was riffing on his guitar. Bobby thankfully drove at a slower pace as they approached the final stretch toward their destination. The ache in his stomach didn’t get better, but it also didn’t get worse so he was banking on it calming down once they stopped.

“Hey, guys, we wanna stop somewhere and get breakfast first?” Bobby called out to the rest of them.

“Oh yeah!” Reggie said. “I think I could go for some pancakes.”

“Oh, pancakes sound real good right now.” Luke echoed.

“Alex?” Bobby peeked into the rearview mirror at him.

Looking up from the view outside, he just shrugged. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t sure he could handle food no matter what it was.

Eventually they pulled off the freeway and kept their eyes peeled for an open restaurant.

“I see pancakes!” Reggie cried, pointing at his target.

“They’ve got an arcade next door, I second that vote!” Bobby said.

As they parked and clambered out of the van, the boys stretched and shook their limbs. They entered the diner and found a booth, practically collapsing together on the table. Alex placed his face in his hands and tried taking in deep breaths to calm his stomach. A sudden voice was heard beside the table.

“Good morning starshines, the earth says hello! How are we doing today?” Sounded like a waiter. Alex felt rude, but didn’t bother to look up. He felt Luke nudge a menu under his elbow.

“Oh, we’re hungry!” Reggie responded.

“Awesome, guys,” the waiter said. “Anything I can get started for you?”

“We’ll go with water,” Luke spoke for everyone at the table. “And, sorry about him, he’s not feeling good.” Alex assumed this was about him and sighed.

“Okay, so water for everybody? Alright, I’ll just grab those for you while you prepare your orders.”

As the waiter left, Luke tapped Alex’s shoulder.

“How you doin’, Alex?”

“Not blowing chunks, I guess,” he groaned.

“Hey, guys,” Bobby started saying. “How about we pick what we wanna eat, and then I want to check out the arcade while we wait for our food.”

“That’s a good idea,” Reggie said, perking up. “I hope they have Galaga.”

“I’m down,” Luke said. “Alex, you wanna wait here for us? You can give the guy our orders and then just chill.”

“Maybe that stomach will settle down,” Reggie added.

Alex lowered his hands and rested them on the table.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I need the space anyway. Thanks.”

“Cool,” Luke hopped up from his seat. “Uh, I’ll just do the buttermilk pancakes.”

“Make that two buttermilk pancakes!” Reggie said, holding up his fingers.

“Eggs and sausage,” Bobby told him. “And buttermilk pancakes.” He patted Alex on the back as the three of them ventured next door.

At least they were easy to remember. Alex looked around the restaurant as he kept breathing in and out slowly. He was the only person there. That was surprising for a diner just outside of Vegas around ten in the morning. He didn’t mind the quiet, though. Having all this space to himself was already helping him feel better.

A guy with long dark hair approached him with a tray carrying glasses of water. Alex gulped as he watched, his breath catching in his throat. He took in the tie-dye shirt, the ripped jeans, and puka shell necklace and guessed he was probably from California as well.

“Whoa, where’d they all go?” the waiter asked, smiling a little in confusion.

Alex blinked.

“They, uh, they went to the arcade,” he managed to get out. He couldn’t help it, this guy had a nice smile.

“Ah,” the guy raised his eyebrows and began placing the water on the table. “And they left you behind? That sucks.”

“I’m okay,” Alex said. “We’ve just been on the road for a bit and I got kinda carsick, so I needed some space anyway.”

“I’m sorry, man,” the waiter said. “Did they decide what to eat before they bailed?”

“Uh, yeah,” Alex shifted to face him better. “They all want buttermilk pancakes and then one guy also wants eggs and sausage.”

“Three buttermilks…” the guy muttered as he wrote them down. “Eggs and sausage. And do you know what you want?”

He looked directly into Alex’s eyes as he rested the tray under his arm and it took everything Alex had not to melt right there. Don’t look at his lips, he thought. He was pretty sure his eyes had betrayed him but he forced his gaze downward as a cover.

“I’m sorry,” he said, flustered. “I actually forgot to look at the menu.”

“Right, ‘cuz you were carsick, sorry” the waiter chuckled, running a hand through his hair. Alex bit his tongue.

“I should probably get some food still,” he managed to say. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“Right on. I could recommend some toast - that’s always easy on the stomach. That comes with eggs, and I could add in some banana for you.”

“That actually sounds great,” Alex told him. “I’ll just do that, then.”

The waiter smiled and bit his lip.

“‘Kay!” He lifted the tray from under his arm and headed back toward the kitchen, doing a little skip before disappearing inside.

Alex felt his hands shaking and he sat on them for a minute. Looking around the empty diner, a thought occurred that somehow with just him and the waiter it had seemed full. The strange feeling crept all over him, like a new exhilarating energy, and he moved his hands back up. The waiter popped back out of the kitchen and came back toward Alex in a cavalier fashion.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. “I don’t exactly have other people to help and I feel bad leaving you all by yourself in here.”

“Make yourself at home,” Alex said, gesturing to the seat across from him. Make yourself at home? What is that? he berated himself.

The guy extended a hand for him to shake. “I’m Willie, by the way.”

“Alex.” As he took it, Alex returned the firm grip he received and they both chuckled a bit at noticing each other’s strength. Willie sat down and immediately grabbed a napkin from the dispenser.

“So you said you and your friends have a long day ahead of you?” he asked.

“Oh right,” Alex couldn’t believe he had forgotten about the guys for a minute. “We’re a band, so we’ve got a gig opening for Julie Molina tonight.”

“Wicked,” Willie smiled and nodded, folding the napkin into something Alex wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be. “Who’s Julie Molina?”

“Oh, she’s just a good solo artist - does a little bit of everything. My buddy Luke is really into her.”

Willie nodded some more, continuing to fold the napkin.

“And who are you guys?”

“We’re Sunset Curve,” Alex said. “I’m the drummer.”

“Right on! You guys just becoming a thing?” Willie raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, I guess so,” Alex hadn’t exactly thought about it. “Opening for Julie is a big step for us.”

He watched Willie’s hands work until he finished. It turned out to be an origami frog.

“Ribbit,” Willie said, pressing on the top to make it look like it was moving. The napkin material didn’t exactly lend to bouncing up and down, which made them both giggle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be distracting.”

“I don’t mind,” Alex said. “It’s entertaining.”

He realized how widely he was smiling and laughed to himself.

“What about you?” he asked.

Willie straightened his posture and ran a hand through his hair again. He flailed his arms and blew out his cheeks before holding one arm with the other and leaning on the table.

“Making it on my own for now. I just do whatever feels good, you know? Make a few bucks, get out and enjoy what I find. Don’t need a whole lot to be happy.”

Wow, Alex wanted that kind of chill. He picked up the origami frog.

“What do you do when you’re not here? Besides these, of course.”

Willie shrugged.

“Skate. Be free.” He smiled, but sighed heavily. Alex saw a distant look in his eyes, but knew now wasn’t a time to address it. “I see Vegas in all its glory. You should see the lights at night.”

“Won’t I see them tonight?”

Willie shook his head.

“Not the right way,” he told him. “Not at the right angle. I would show you, but you’ve got your gig and everything.”

Alex opened his mouth to reply, but a head stuck out of the kitchen door. A man with dark hair and chiseled features looked at Willie and all he did was glare authoritatively.

“I’m - coming,” Willie stammered, rising from his seat.

Alex realized his mouth was still open and he shut it, unhappily swallowing what he’d wanted to say.

“That was my boss,” Willie said, already in a hurry. “I’m sorry, I’ll be back when your food’s ready.” He rushed off and the diner felt empty and cold again.

As if on cue, Luke, Bobby and Reggie burst back through the door. Luke and Reggie were celebrating while Bobby seemed a little less enthusiastic.

“Dun-geon slay-er!” Reggie proclaimed in a mock deep voice. “Too bad we can’t stay longer and go for that tournament today; I would have whooped everyone.”

They all sat and immediately gulped down their waters. Bobby remained quiet.

“How was the arcade?” Alex asked.

“It was sweet,” Luke reported. “Bobby’s mad because Reggie mopped the floor with him.”

“The joystick wasn’t working right, it wasn’t a fair outcome,” Bobby defended.

“Oooohhh,” Reggie made a silly face and wiggled his fingers. “Bobby only loses when the game doesn’t work, ooohhh!”

Alex shook his head and laughed mildly. He only noticed then that his stomach had stopped bothering him completely. He hadn’t even felt it when he’d been talking with Willie. He finished his own water, and was happy not to feel anything as it went down. The origami frog was still on the table.

“Hey, Alex,” Reggie said, picking it up. “Did you make this?”

“Oh, no, Willie did,” he told him.

“Who’s Willie?” Luke asked.

Speak of the devil - the kitchen door opened and Willie came out carrying their plates.

“Alright, we got pancakes, pancakes, more pancakes,” he said, placing them where they belonged. He glanced at Alex quickly, but it was too quick to read. “Who had the eggs and sausage?”

“That was me,” Bobby said, raising his hand.

“Okay,” Willie passed it over to him. “And toast and eggs with a banana.” He smiled as he set it down before Alex. “And it looks like you all need more water, I’ll be right back!” He was gone too quickly again.

The change in his mood unsettled Alex, but maybe it was because Willie was working. As he saw Willie returning with the water pitcher he had an idea.

“Hey Luke,” he said. Luke turned to him expectantly as Willie silently poured water in their glasses.

“Where are we playing again?”

Luke looked confused. Willie was listening intently.

“The Pearl, why? How could you forget?”

“And what time do we play?”

“Eight o’ clock. You sure you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah. I was… I was just testing you, cuz sometimes you don’t remember.”

Luke looked around the table defensively.

Reggie shrugged. “He’s right. But you remembered this time!”

Alex felt bad about starting Luke in an argument as he listened to them continue, but he knew it would blow over quickly. He caught Willie looking back at him and nodding as he walked away. As he returned to his food, Bobby smirked at him and shook his head. Heat rose in his cheeks and he focused on his toast.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #viva las vegas #ribbit #fiddlepickdouglas #meetcute

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sunflowersseemhappy · 4 years ago

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Hey! I recently discovered your Tumblr and am loving reading your posts! I would like to place an order if it's not a lot ... You could headcanon the LIs to find out that the MC is pregnant quadruplets? (If you can't, please let me know to put an end to my anxiety) Thanks for everything!

Why hello @ i-dont-know-what-to-put4! Sorry it took a while I’ve had lots of requests to keep me busy. Thank you for the request, I’m super glad you enjoy my writing. So here we are for your entertainment!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN, here is my Masterlist.

Up next is Main Six with a MC that has a lot of anxiety.

Asra

There’s been a strange shift in your aura of late, the last few weeks Asra has felt it grow stronger and stronger with each passing day and tonight its particularly strong.

That evening the two of you are just enjoying each others presence, his head resting against your stomach as you twirl a strand of his white hair in your fingertips.

Already he can feel you falling asleep with your hand tangled in his hair and it makes him tired too, eyes fluttering open and shut.

Then all of a sudden the smallest wave of magic taps him on the cheek.

Asra is wide awake in an instant, frowning as he lifts his head to look at your placid face, eyes closed. Was that you?

And then it taps him again.

No it’s not your magic, but it feels similar. Like a combination of your magic and his. Something new...

Trying not to alarm you or wake you from your own slumber Asra shifts to place a palm against your stomach and tentatively prods back with his own magic.

And once more something prods back, four somethings.

Four little sources answer back and Asra’s heart skips a beat.

Oh, that is a surprise.

Asra resists a chuckle and just presses closer to you, making you grumble in your half asleep state.

“Wahzat? Asra?”

“It’s okay love, I’m just getting comfortable is all.” He sees no point in awaking you yet, you’ve only just started to drift off

You haven’t even noticed Asra and the magic he’s radiating, his magic cradling and soothing those tiny beings inside.

How he’s longed for his own child, and now along come four in one.

Asra can’t wait to see the look on your face.

Four children and you don’t even know it yet, he’ll tell you in the morning but for the moment he just wants to let them know he’s there and that he always will be.

Nadia

With the help of a carefully picked donor you have both decided to try for a child, and although you agreed to carry the child she still asked you if you were sure a thousand times over.

Although the first try had no success, the second try became the winner.

Its been weeks and Nadia has been so busy she’s almost forgotten about trying for a child.

You’re in her room changing into a night gown, which in itself isn’t strange, but you seem... different, somehow.

She thinks to herself you’re probably just a bit more sun blemished today or that you’re wearing a different hue of eye shadow.

But you’re glancing at her once every-so-often, more than usual as if you’re waiting for the perfect moment.

The next time she looks up from her seat at her bed you’re knelt by Nadia with the most serious expression on your face. Concerned she asks you if everything is alright, and your expression remains so serious she can’t comprehend the words that come out of your mouth.

“Yes, after all it isn’t everyday I get to tell the love of my life that I’m pregnant.”

And for what seems like the first time since you met her, Nadia blanks, staring at you in confusion.

A slow realisation dawns on her face and she’s standing pulling you up with her with a gasp, and already peppering your face with kisses and laughing clear and crisp.

“You had me worried for a moment Y/N,” she scolds, moving to slide a hand to your stomach with a delighted hum.

“There’s one more surprise, although you might want to sit down again...”

And after you both settle yourselves down, you break the news that there are four babies not just one, Nadia is just too busy smiling thinking of how fitting it is that the two of you should have a large family like her own.

She can’t wait.

Julian

That evening after getting over a bout of ‘food poisoning’ Julian manages to drag you out for a few drinks at the Rowdy Raven.

He’s downing Salty Bitters like there’s no tomorrow, rowdily cheering at the fiddle player who is striking up a feisty tune.

Once every so often grinning back at you, your non-alcoholic drink playing between your hands unnoticed.

Startling as Julian’s hand tugs your’s, asking for a dance with that silly grin on his face. His energy is almost infectious as he leads you out into the jostling crowd.

He’s spinning and twirling you and thankfully you don’t feel as sick as you did earlier in the week because otherwise you’d be sick by now.

As the feisty tune ends you’re almost breathless and Julian curiously asks you if you’re okay as a slow tune sets pace for a slow dance.

“Oh, yes. I’m just finding it harder to catch my breath since I’m pregnant.”

“Well, that would make dancing a lot harder...”

Giving you a bewildered look, Julian in his partly drunk daze grabs your shoulders begging you to repeat what you just said.

“We’re having babies Julian... four of them.” He almost faints, falling back into a chair with a million questions on his mind.

The two of you leave the Raven early that night and as you walk down the street Julian is looking you up and down in adoration. His hand about your waist, just brushing your stomach.

Will he be a good enough father? Will they like him? What if they hate him?! So much to do and think about, he’s so eager and scared at the same time, but when you give him that soft smile Julian’s worries feel almost non-existent.

The two of you together? Those kids are going to have the best parents ever.

Muriel

Something’s up, Muriel knows that much. You’ve been acting weird, well, weirder than usual.

Your moods have been all over the place and Muriel is pretty sure you’re not feeling tired all the time just because of all the ‘late nights’ you’ve had.

Last week you cried over seeing a doe with twin fauns, and again over how good his scrambled eggs were.

And that day finally comes, and for first time in weeks you’re pretty calm accompanying him to a farmer’s orchard to pick some apples (with the farmer’s permission of course.)

Sunshine dappling your faces as you pick fruit from the floor, Muriel spots you visibly wincing when you have to bend low.

Muriel’s eyes are constantly watching you with confusion, as you weave through the trees almost causing him to bash his head against a low branch.

When he finds his way back to your side you point excitedly at a perfectly round red apple, despite his own height it is out of his reach.

Humming in thought you encourage Muriel to sit you on his shoulders, and you just manage to reach the apple yelling in triumph as Muriel sets you back down.

And he notices you’re smiling down at the apple tenderly. “I bet I’ll be rounder than this apple in a few months...”

“What?” Muriel is staring at you. “Why... would you be?” Your hand flies to your mouth as you hide a grin, Muriel’s face is set in a deep frown.

“Well, I’m just, saying... with four babies I’m going to be HUGE!”

The deepest shade of red is colouring Muriel’s cheeks as he looks down at you, to your eyes then to your stomach then back to your eyes.

“You mean...I’m- we’re going to be...parents?” Muriel sidles up to you curiously, tentatively reaching out. Grabbing his hand you slide it to your stomach with a nod and laugh. Using your own hands to cup his face and giving him a soft kiss on his cheek.

How in the world? He’s astonished and scared, and although Muriel doesn’t know if he’s ready, it doesn’t seem like such a scary thing with you. He wants to try.

Portia

As with Nadia the two of you have, with the help of a donor decided to have a baby together.

The two of you having had a friendly argument about who was going to try having the baby first, through some deductive reasoning you two agreed you would be the best candidate.

Unsurprisingly Portia has been bouncing around at the prospect of having a baby, she’s already knitted 20 little sweaters to pick out as the baby’s first clothes.

And that morning as you come back from a checkup from the ever helpful future uncle Julian, Portia is already jumping up and down after rushing back for a ‘lunch break’ to meet you.

“So? What happened? Any luck, what did Julian say?”

You’re laughing at her excitement and have to force her to sit down on the love seat, trying in vain to calm her down.

“Well Julian had a listen and... I am pregnant!”

Portia tackles you into a bruising hug and you have to quickly remind her you are pregnant, so she goes to nuzzling your face and laughing behind her kisses as you chuckle back.

“Oh, that means you can finally pick out your favourite sweater!” Portia picks up the overflowing basket of baby clothes and presents it to you like its a medal.

Biting back another laugh you survey the clothes and pick out your four favourite ones. Portia watches you eagerly to see which one you’ll pick out of the four but your hand stays gripping them.

“A toss up, hm?”

“Oh, no these four will do.”

“Um, Y/N if you bundle the baby up in four sweaters it might get too warm...”

“I know, that’s why there’s only one for each of them.” Portia purses her lips with a thoughtful frown and then her mouth falls open.

“You’re having FOUR!?” You just burst out laughing in answer.

She’s going to have to make a lot more sweaters, but she can’t wait to coddle four babies and have lots of fun with her family. With any luck they’ll be just as cute as you!

Lucio

You have a surprise for him? But he’s meant to be spoiling you, he loves spoiling you!

Although he can’t help but get excited as you near the bedroom.

So its that kind of surprise?

No, the two of you have already passed your shared room and you lead him to the room across from the door he was expecting.

“Um, Y/N our room is that door!” Lucio points, but you shake your head and tell him to close his eyes.

Lucio is starting to get sceptical of what kind of surprise this is but with a shrug he closes his eyes and allows you to lead him through the door.

The smell of paint hits his nose first and there’s the tinkling of bells somewhere off to his right.

“...and open your eyes!”

Lucio can’t remember what this room used to be but whatever it used to be it looks totally different now.

The walls are painted with a fresh coat of cream above and pastel green below and there are sheer curtains lining the windows and where you are now standing there are four cribs each with a mobile with tinkling bells?

“Don’t worry I had Portia and the other servants help me, there’s a few things to get done still but, do you like it?”

Lucio is examining the room with a critical eye, as he slowly walks toward you turning on the spot before coming to a stop before the crib’s.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Well yes, unless the doctor lied to me...”

“Why are there four?”

Chuckling wryly you suck your teeth with an innocent expression as Lucio turns to gape at you. You can’t even nod before Lucio’s hands are picking you up at the waist and twirling you around with barking laughter kissing your lips as he sets you back down on your toes.

“I guess this makes me look like a good lover,” at the jest you smack him lightly with a warning expression laced with a smile.

How lucky is he to get a second chance with you?

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timebird84 · 4 years ago

Text

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @from-aldebaran

Snow Angel

As grey dawn broke over the streets of Paris, the Opera Ghost stood high atop the roof of the Palais Garnier, surveying the thick snowfall that had settled over the city in the night, snow still falling, perfect flakes settling on his cloak, their crystalline shapes unmarred, becoming bright additions to the subtle jet beadwork adorning his collar and shoulders.

Erik had suspected this change in the weather when he had completed his rounds last evening with a final stop on the roof. The air had smelled of impending snow, reminding him of days long ago on the road in Russia, where learning the signs and portents of the weather’s whims had been a matter of life or death.

The light-bejeweled city had been beautiful from the heights last night and was even more so now, all ugliness revealed by the daylight hidden beneath smooth snowy white curves, like the mask which shielded the malformed side of his face from the horrified gaze of the world. And this was not winter in Russia. His life no longer danced upon a knife’s edge from day to day. He stood here, atop his Opera House, warmth and beauty and home within, snow kept safely without, waiting for the dancers and musicians and singers to come fill his halls with bright life and music, which he shaped as always subtly from the shadows.

Well, and there was no more time to stand here gawking while snow collected at an impressive rate on the brim of his hat. There was much to be done this day, before the Palais emptied for the Christmas holiday, with a concert by the Opéra Populaire scheduled after, for the holiday season, and a new production starting in the coming year. The day would hold Christine’s early morning vocal lesson, a full concert ensemble rehearsal on stage at noon, with breakout practices and recitals in the afternoon.

The Opera House always bustled with life during the day, but never more so than at the holiday times. The artists, young and old, were caught up in what Erik understood to be the spirit of fellowship of the season, exchanging gifts, holding impromptu gatherings, filled with Christmas cheer, and above all, anxiously awaiting the time away from their work that the Christmas break provided. The days leading up to Christmas were filled with a palpable energy, waiting to be released as the company headed out on holiday.

Then, ah, for him a few days of what had used to be blessed solitude, when he could roam the halls at will, mindful only of the few beleaguered guards tasked to work the holidays. Never very happy about it, they typically stayed close to the main guard station, leaving the gilded halls free for him to enjoy in peace, to marvel at the beauty contained within the Palais and of course to attend to more practical matters, ensuring seldom used secret access points remained in working order. Yes, the holidays were a perfect time for a survey of his Opera House, top to bottom, drifting purposefully alone through the long winter nights.

But this year was somehow different. Sweet solitude held less allure. He had grown accustomed to the new lessons with Christine, their daily interactions. Seeing her progress, shaping her voice into a beautiful reliable instrument to serve her all her days. Speaking with her on matters musical and personal. Using his guise as an angel to gain perspective on facets of human behavior that he had either been unaware of or which had somehow eluded him completely. Not that he truly cared, mind, nor would he have much occasion to put this newfound knowledge into practice, being the solitary creature he was.

Still, she fascinated him…that is, what she had to say fascinated him.

It was a good thing, then, that the work to be done in the Opera House, still and empty and quiet for the next few days, would occupy his time so completely.

Erik turned to go, his footprints from his earlier traverse already erased by the snow, leaving no doubt his new footprints would be obscured as well. He swept his hat off, releasing a sudden tiny blizzard into the wind. He felt the unexpected kiss of snowflakes on his cheek, and a warm flurry of sensation in his chest which he recognized with surprise as anticipation, anticipation of a pleasant day indeed, with all proceeding according to plan.

*****

Christine was late. Very late. Christine had never been so much as a minute late before, not for their morning lessons.

Erik fretted behind the mirror until the moment when the door to the dressing room flew open and Christine burst in, her arms full of bags and parcels, her blue cloak damp about her, her usual outside-of-the-opera upswept coiffure fallen, sending her auburn curls cascading about her shoulders, sparkling with snow. The vacant tableau of her dressing room came to vibrant life with her entrance, her cheeks and lips rosy with color as she spun to close the door behind her, calling for him immediately.

“Angel, oh Angel, I am so sorry! Are you here, did you stay?”

He had not the heart to make her wait a moment for his answer, though her calls for him were their own sweet music.

“My child, I am here. What befell you? And what is it that you carry there?”

“Oh, Angel,” Christine began, as she set her various burdens down on the vanity, easing woolen mittens from her hands, unfastening her cloak and tossing it over the dressing screen to dry. She perched her mittens precariously atop the screen as well. “It has snowed, have you seen, a very great snow, the most here in Paris in years and years!” She pulled a small pair of hair combs from the pockets of her dress, trying in vain to roll the snow-dampened curls of her hair and secure them away from her face.

“I did see, and this delayed you somehow?” He felt like a fool. He seldom had to go abroad from the Opera House in inclement weather, unless he wished to, and he had not even considered the snow as a reason for the lateness of her arrival.

“Well, yes, it is not only snow, but ice beneath and walking is treacherous, especially for those not accustomed to snow! I daresay I spent more time helping people up this morning than I did on my own journey here.” Christine laughed, adding with sudden astuteness, in apparent consideration of his angelic nature and his potential ignorance about the meaning of her northern origins— “I am Swedish, you see, and used to the snow!”

She busied herself sorting various packages that she fished from the bags she had carried, explaining as she worked. “We exchange gifts with each other for Christmas, the ballet girls do, and these are the presents I have brought with me to give.”

Of course. Gifts were customary at this season, he thought, as his chest inexplicably tightened.

Her hair came loose from the combs again and she pulled them free, rummaging in her vanity. “These are entirely too small, they always have been. I simply need to get larger ones, and give these away.”

She pulled a larger pair of combs from the drawer, evidently much used by the battered look of them and was finally able to set her hair away from her face to her satisfaction, though the rest of the snow-swept curls she left free, here in the confines of the Opera House, where the rules governing a young lady’s expected hair arrangement were a moot point at best among the bohemian members of the Opéra Populaire.

His eyes caught on her face as she peered into her vanity mirror, and he was struck suddenly that beneath the rosy glow imparted by the winter weather, she was pale, and somehow drawn, with faint lilac shadows beneath her eyes.

It was not like her to complain about anything, especially something so inconsequential as a set of hair combs. Perhaps…

“Are you well? Are you agreeable to our lesson today?” he enquired.

He drove her very hard, came the abrupt thought, as his gaze traced the stark line of her cheek, with these lessons in addition to the not insignificant demands of her duties in the company, singing in the chorus and dancing as well, under the also quite strict supervision of Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry respectively.

For all that she held these responsibilities, and for all that she had been through these past years—things she had shared with him during the time of their lessons and on other occasions when she called to him and he was able to answer—she was, he suddenly realized, still quite young.

Young in a way he had never been allowed to be, and with a sudden hollowness expanding in his chest, he wondered if he was complicit in rushing her into adulthood with his stern expectations.

“Oh, yes,” Christine said, shaking her hair back one last time and coming to stand in the center of the room, poising herself for her warmups. “Some of us had hoped…well, had thought, that the day’s rehearsals might be cancelled due to the weather, but—” a look approaching worry crossed her face—“but I would never miss a lesson with you, Angel. And as it turns out, the day’s full schedule remains firmly in place.” Here her lip quivered, just slightly, and she cast her gaze down in what looked very like disappointment.

Oh dear. Abruptly, he was at a loss. He cast about for what to do and decided he needed more information.

“My child,” he said, “you know we have discussed before how I am ignorant of many things in this mortal world, and that I rely on you to be my guide in such matters.”

Christine lifted her head, nodding to the corner of the room where he had sent his voice to speak from.

“You must tell me truthfully, Christine. What had you and your companions hoped for this day? And please, dear one, sit down. Warm yourself before you even think of warming your voice.”

Christine crossed to the vanity and settled upon the little chair there, chafing her hands together and tucking them in the folds of her skirt. “Well, it seems so silly to say aloud, especially to you, Angel. Such trivial matters to concern you with, and really of no importance.”

“We have had this discussion before as well. There is nothing you cannot lay before me. Music is not made just with the voice, you will recall, but with the spirit. If the spirit is troubled or,” and here he paused, to rid his voice of any emotion save comfort, “or the body is tired, you must tell me, Christine. I am not always able to discern these things without your help.”

She shifted on the little chair, and then spoke. “Well, it is just, yes, we are tired, all of us, and we had hoped to be able to go out…and play.” She flushed, her pale features pinking in the soft light of the dressing room to match the high color of her cheeks and lips.

Play. In the snow?

Erik considered her in silence, information and observations assuming new configurations in his mind, Christine again leading him to a new perspective. He had anticipated a high level of energy from the company today, this he had observed before during previous holiday seasons. People with their minds on future plans, on gatherings with loved ones, eager to be done with their work.

But this morning, the Opera House fairly vibrated with the company’s restrained energy, and at last he understood—it was due to the snow!

And Christine—not just his promising student, but a member of that company, a member of humanity in a way that he was far removed from, in a way that he had utterly failed to take into account.

Erik pulled in a deep breath in his place behind the mirror, letting it out slowly and quietly as he gripped his hands tightly together. She would work herself to exhaustion, catch her death of cold, to not miss a lesson from him. Her health could take a turn, due to illness or overwork, two things he himself was never troubled by—and he would be responsible.

He could not and should not hold her to his impossibly warped standards.

And he—he had had no consideration for her at all, none, not even arranging for something as simple as a holiday gift…

It simply would not do.

Perhaps there was something that could be done, to make amends. He addressed her, sending his voice again from the corner of the room.

“Play?” He hoped he did not sound nearly as confused as he felt.

“In the snow, you know. It happens so rarely here!”

“Ah,” he said wisely, feeling thoroughly unenlightened. “And how, exactly, does one play in the snow?”

“Oh!” She leaned forward, clasping her hands, her voice animated and eyes bright. “There’s sledding of course, and snow forts, and snowmen, and snowballs…oh, and snow angels!” Here she laughed again.

“I see,” he said, though he saw nothing of the sort. He remembered looking out of his shuttered window as a child, at a group of children throwing balls of snow at one another in the street, and from his Russian travels he knew what sleds were, but all else was mystery. His tone must have conveyed more than his words, because Christine continued, explaining.

“Well, sledding is riding something smooth down a hillside covered in snow. Snowmen are figures made out of large balls of snow, stacked with a bottom and middle and a top for a head. You can add branches for arms, buttons or coal for eyes, and a carrot for a nose. And then things like scarves and hats if you like. Oh, and snow forts are like walls made of snow, or sometimes square or domed houses. To play in, you see, or hide behind, especially in a snowball fight.”

Christine tipped her chin down, shaking her head slightly, yet still smiling. “Snowball fights sound very mean when explaining them to an angel, but I promise you they are very fun! You make fist sized balls out of snow and throw them at one another. If you are feeling very wicked, you can pack them tightly, so they sting your target a bit.”

She raised her eyes, skin coloring once more, and brought the subject back round to virtue. “Snow angels are when you flop down in a field of soft snow, flat on your back, and then you move your arms and legs to make shapes. The legs, see, make a robe and your arms make the wings. At least—” and she glanced again at the corner his voice issued from “—that is what we think angels look like, though we have no way to be sure they look anything at all like what we have imagined.”

Well, and time to change that topic. It all seemed very silly…but perhaps that was what was needed here. Some time not to be serious. Some time to simply…play. At the very least, he would cut this lesson short and give the girl a break this morning. She had dance practice very soon and then the full run through of the holiday concert with the whole company, dancers, chorus, and orchestra assembled on the stage.

Today was the last day before the brief holiday break, and the show to commence very soon after everyone returned. They were already well practiced though, he had seen it for himself. The management could have made a different decision and called today’s rehearsals off altogether with no harm done. They were clearly as foolish as he himself had been.

It was time for that to change. And, he thought, his mind a whirl of ideas, time to share the lesson he had just learned.

“Christine, a few scales please and that will suffice for today. Warm up properly prior to your rehearsal later this morning. You will want to be well prepared for anything.”

She rose from her seat to move to the center of the room again. “Oh, Angel, are you certain? I can do anything that you ask.”

“I am very certain, dear one. Sing today, then go from here and rest your voice, body and spirit until you return again next week. You have given me the lesson today, Christine, one this angel had not considered, that people need time to rest and play, to stay well for their work. I shall not forget it.”

*****

Erik lounged in casual repose in the flies high above the stage, which hummed with activity dozens of feet below. The flies were empty save for himself; there was only one backdrop needed for the post- Christmas concert the Opéra Populaire was preparing to rehearse, and that already in place, leaving the stagehands to concentrate on ground level tasks. Joseph Buquet’s many little nests of old drop cloths, where he napped away the hours hidden safely from view above the stage, were empty, Buquet himself busy sharing a flask of holiday cheer with the dayshift guards at their station. This set of circumstances had saved Erik quite a bit of time in dealing with unwanted attention, and ensured he had no audience for the completion of the project that had consumed his morning hours, and gave him also an excellent vantage from which to observe today’s proceedings.

He had been right about the effect of the holidays, and Christine’s observations about the snowfall enabled him to see even more clearly…no one wanted to be here today. They wished to be out, in the snow, left to their own devices

Idly, Erik observed the rehearsal layout. The orchestra was ensconced in the pit, doing their warm-ups as the conductor, Monsieur Desplat, presided in dreamy, absent-minded glory, bent over his sheet music, his hair a cottony white nimbus about his head. Desplat lived fully in the world of music, which condition Erik could understand, but alas, the music in Monsieur Desplat’s head often drowned out the real world shortcomings of several members of his orchestra.

As if on cue, the Third Trombone hit a particularly sour note, causing Erik’s fingers to clench. And of course, the Second Trombone’s chair was empty, the man over in the string section, pressing his dubious attention upon one of the violinists—it scarcely mattered to Erik which one, nor, he suspected, did it matter much to the Second Trombone, whose criteria in choice of partners boiled down to alive and available.

Stage left stood the twittering semicircle of the chorus, no uniformity to their dress as they were not yet outfitted in full Christmas costume. Monsieur Reyer as usual strutted before them like a bantam cock, all nervous energy and sharp movement, his incessant frustration confined only by his perpetually too-tight jacket and too-small hat. Erik had to admit that the man knew his business, else Erik would have made it his business to have the répétiteur replaced years ago. No, Reyer was quite competent, and then some, despite a distressing tendency towards favoritism and inclination to fawn over said favorites, resulting in a failure to correct their slide into bad form.

And there stood the favorites themselves, La Carlotta and her partner Signor Piangi, at the downstage end of the chorus’s semicircle. La Carlotta, true to her character, alternated between looking bored and disdainful, while Piangi’s good nature asserted itself as he chatted with chorus members, yet, with the ease of long practice, and perhaps a well-developed sense of self-preservation, he remained constantly aware of and attentive to the ever-changing moods of his lady diva. As usual, Piangi had done a thorough warm-up, his pleasant tenor an accompaniment to Erik’s morning efforts in the flies, and also as usual, La Carlotta found warm-ups beneath her, which contributed to the daily erosion of her once supreme talent.

Stage right, a drift of tulle and satin, the ballet dancers fully costumed in their holiday concert regalia, complete with tall tiaras each adorned at the highest point with a glittering golden star, in sharp contrast to the stern black-clad presence of Madame Giry, staff at the ready. And there, speaking animatedly with Madame Giry’s blonde-haired daughter Meg, was Christine. Erik narrowed his eyes—he had heard Christine warming up as he worked and knew she had no dance role in this concert. If she were not careful, she would risk—

“Daaé!”

And there it was, Monsieur Reyer’s nasal voice rising above the sounds of the orchestra and sending Christine rushing across the stage to her place in the chorus. One would think, Erik mused, that a vocal coach of some renown would have made some effort towards making his own speaking voice less of an assault on the ear, but sadly, this was not the case. One of the ballerinas, a particularly unpleasant girl with dark eyes and scornful brows, far too aware of her own beauty, laughed and muttered something to her compatriots, while Meg frowned fiercely at her. Erik cocked his head, and made a mental note of the scoffer’s position.

All in good time.

He settled back to wait for the rehearsal to begin.

*****

The company was restive, there was no doubt of it. Errors in previously solid performances abounded. The ballet girls had missed their cue again and stood sullenly until a broad overblown note from the First Bassoon, a young man relatively new to the orchestra, sent them into a fit of giggles which seemed to set them more at ease. A deliberately overblown note, thought Erik, knowing a player of that caliber and on that fine of an instrument would have to work at producing such a sound.

Yes, and that reminded him, strings and woodwinds. Special consideration would have to be taken for strings and woodwinds...

The chorus was also off, and Monsieur Reyer was growing more and more heated, stopping the songs, launching into his familiar tirade of “No, no, no! Nearly, but no!” repeatedly, which was ostensibly supposed to be both helpful and comforting and which in reality was neither.

Erik caught sight of Christine’s pale, strained face amongst the chorus as the rehearsal moved forward into the third selection. Three selections out of twenty, and at this rate hours upon hours of work for the beleaguered members of the company, and every bit of this realization showing in her expression.

It was time for the lesson to begin. As taught by Christine to her Angel, thence from Angel to Opera Ghost, and now, with very great pleasure, from Opera Ghost to the whole of the Opéra Populaire…

The ensemble was several bars in, orchestra, chorus, and dancers striving for synchronicity, when Monsieur Desplat was roused from his world of music by the sight and sound of his woodwind section and his string section ceasing their play, and standing to put away their instruments with some haste.

“Here, now,” he sputtered, as the brass played gamely on, the singers and dancers onstage continuing, determined, it seemed, to make it through this song come what may. “What are you doing?”

The First Violin spoke up. “Why sir, only what you told us! You said rehearsal’s off, to pack our things and go!”

“I said no such thing!” Desplat declaimed, as the strings and woodwinds persisted, that no, they had all heard it, plain as day, as though he had spoken right in their very ears…

On stage, the chorus gamely continued, but the lack of complete accompaniment and the distraction of the many standing figures in the pit finally threw them off, and Reyer brought them to an uneven halt as per usual.

“No, no, no! Nearly, but—”

SPLAT!

Seemingly out of nowhere, Reyer was hit in the back of the head by a wickedly accurate snowball, which knocked his hat off amid a spectacular spray of glittering snow.

A second whizzing sphere smacked the headdress off of a particular ballerina, icy cold snow wiping the ever-present smug expression off of her face.

In the stunned silence which followed, an odd sound was heard, dozens of ropes passing through dozens of pulleys, as an equal number of buckets descended rapidly to every far flung area of the stage, coming quietly to rest amidst the company.

Each bucket was heaped to overflowing with snowballs.

And it was on.

High above the fray, Erik rocked with silent laughter as the stage devolved into a battlefield.

The orchestra wasted no time in storming the stage and commandeering ammunition, the strings and woodwinds with their instruments safely stowed (thanks to the early warning they had received) versus the later arriving brass section, all of them at one point joining forces to pelt Monsieur Desplat rather mercilessly until he seized a music stand as a shield and made his way out of the orchestra pit to the safety of the far reaches of the auditorium.

Madame Giry made a small attempt to control the corps de ballet and might have done so, had not her canny instincts led her to glance upward at the flies, where Erik allowed her to see him. He waggled a snowball at her from his own private stash, and she sighed, stepping back and releasing the ballet dancers to do their worst.

The chorus, who rather sportingly had not attacked the still recovering Monsieur Reyer, and who had instead turned gleefully on each other, solidified into a unit when faced with the raging attack of the ballerinas. Reyer’s immunity was short lived as he was caught in a blistering crossfire, not at all by accident, as Erik was able to discern from his superior vantage point. He noted with both surprise and delight that Christine got in a few hits on him herself.

In fact, Erik’s one concern, for Christine’s safety, had dissolved immediately as he saw her good Swedish instincts and good Swedish arm turn her into a smiling yet fierce combatant. She was well-liked by the company and not the malicious target of anyone that Erik could tell, save the scornful ballerina who, while she was a talented dancer, had no arm at all. Her mistaken attack on Christine was decisively countered and Erik added a hard packed ice ball to the middle of her back for good measure as she attempted to flee the stage.

Piangi, an enormous but well-liked target, was spared and used his seeming immunity to shield Carlotta, who huffed in red-faced outrage as he attempted to maneuver her off the stage before the worst happened.

And he would have made it, too, thought Erik, as he considered trajectories for a hit on Carlotta which proved impossible due to Piangi’s intercession—until the stagehands arrived. Arming themselves from a row of untouched buckets at the back of the stage, they fired at will, and with enviable accuracy, at La Carlotta, their bane and tormentor for many long seasons, reducing her despite Piangi’s shielding presence to a sodden bedraggled state in a matter of mere seconds.

Erik sought out a few especially irritating company members for his own strikes from above, and had then turned to amusing himself by lobbing high arcing shots into the orchestra pit, sending snowball after snowball into the bell of the abandoned tuba, when he caught sight of a particular nemesis, the Second Trombone, heading away from the fray towards the far backstage.

The man was a menace, his insatiable nature and never ending supply of willing partners resulting in innumerable trysts, and Erik had grown tired of stumbling across him all throughout the Opera House in the most unexpected places…and positions.

Sure enough, the Second Trombone had again seized the day with one of the violinists, and as the couple prepared to conduct a private symphony of their own backstage, Erik took great delight in dumping a full bucket of icy snowball melt upon them from the great height of the flies, bringing their performance to a chilling conclusion.

Satisfied, Erik returned to his perch above the stage. The battle still raged. Christine had switched allegiances back to the corps de ballet, and stood now shoulder to shoulder with Meg. They dodged and weaved incoming missiles with dancer’s grace, laughing all the while.

Never had he seen Christine so animated, so vibrant. So simply happy. His fingers, icy cold from snow, warmed as he pressed his hands to his chest, feeling his heart alive beneath his palms.

His attention was drawn away to Monsieur Lefèvre arriving stage left. Erik watched in astonished bemusement as Madame Giry made her way serenely from stage right, through the pitched battle, not one single member of the Opéra Populaire so much as daring to dream of throwing a snowball anywhere near her, to confer briefly with him. The two concluded their conference, Lefèvre threw his hands up and stalked away, and Madame Giry turned, striking her staff sharply upon the stage twice, bringing an immediate cessation of hostilities.

“Rehearsals for the day are concluded,” she announced. “We will reconvene next week, after the break.”

She silently surveyed the wet and disheveled assemblage of supposed professionals before her.

“Merry Christmas,” she intoned, and she sighed.

*****

Erik returned to the roof in time to see the liberated company, now hastily clad in their winter gear, spill out onto the front plaza of the Opera House. The snowball fight was quickly rejoined and spread out along the sidewalks and across the streets, and grew in intensity with the addition of staid bankers and stolid businessmen to the combat, grinning madly beneath their top hats and homburgs. Mesdames and mademoiselles joined in as well, in plain spun aprons or hats the height of fashion. Snowballs made equals of them all.

But there—there she was, Christine, with Meg, joining in the snowball fight.

Even at this distance he could see the silver and blue glint in her hair that meant she had found his gift when she returned to the dressing room for her cloak and mittens.

Hair combs, a pair, a design of intricately carved silver set with sapphires that matched her cloak and her eyes.

Erik cast his mind back to the warm Persian night, as far from the crisp air and glittering snow-covered streets of Paris as could be conceived, when he had been gifted the combs. There had been a boy, missing a leg above the knee, and Erik had had a thought of something that could be constructed, jointed at knee and foot, to allow the boy to walk. So simple really, it had taken him mere days to construct. His parents had been overjoyed, and the mother had offered the combs in gratitude. Erik had made to protest but ultimately had been unable to refuse and really, despite their uselessness to him, the combs were so beautiful they were hard to resist.

The combs had made their way back here with him, surviving the travels and adventures he had had since leaving Persia long ago. It had been a simple matter, among his tasks this morning, to return to his home beneath the Opera House and fetch some things away, the combs, a bit of pretty paper to wrap them in and a few other oddments that were here with him now in a cloth bag tucked by his feet.

Writing a note to accompany the gift had been quite a bit harder. He had decided against lengthy explanations of how an Angel could possibly gift a material object…if the subject were broached later, he would come up with something. Disguising his handwriting was old hat—his own handwriting was often rushed and scrawled as it attempted to keep up with the flow of his mind’s ideas. The Opera Ghost had very different penmanship indeed than his own. And so must the Angel, in a hand differing from both.

It was the sentiment that eluded him. He settled upon writing that he would see her upon her return after the Christmas break, to remind again she needn’t show up for their lessons for those few days. And then he thought to finish with “Merry Christmas” and realized he had never written, or spoken those words for that matter, in all the many and varied years of his life…

A sharp gust of wind that threatened to snap the edges of his cloak from his grasp brought him back to the rooftop. Clearly the gift and note had been found and must have been passable, for Christine had already set the combs in her lush curls. She was closer now, on the crowded sidewalk below, snowballs flying as a lone bicyclist, head down, rode close enough to become an instantly popular target, pelted with a will by all parties, save Christine. The cyclist fell, knocking his cap loose, as his bicycle slid beneath him on the icy street.

The bombardment was merciless as he attempted to retrieve his bicycle from where it had fallen…until Christine, arms raised, stepped next to him. The assailants, seemingly chagrined, turned their attentions back to each other as Christine brushed the bicyclist off, retrieved his cap for him and sent him peaceably on his way.

Erik shook his head, his hands unaccountably warming again. He would know her anywhere, he thought, simply by her actions. A merciful, caring young woman, who would forgive her poor Angel for not understanding that people needed to play and rest.

The combs, silver and sapphire, sparkled in her hair.

He was glad to have been able to gift her some laughter today as well.

She and Meg made their way to the front plaza to join a group constructing figures out of snow. Ah, these must be snowmen, and snow ladies as well, for the figures were those of the principals of the Opéra Populaire. Simple shapes, made of three large snowballs stacked atop one another; nevertheless, due to the accompanying accessories it was easy to tell who was supposed to be who. Christine and Meg helped with a figure of Piangi, a very large snowman indeed.

After a time, the girls left the group, and started, he knew, on their way to their homes. Madame Giry drifted gracefully out to join them, and they began their walk. Meg suddenly stopped, pulling her mother’s hands to stop her too, and she and Christine made their way over to an untroubled patch of snow. Laughing, they flung themselves backward, arms sweeping vigorously from their sides to above their heads and the position of their feet indicating that their legs described arcs worthy of da Vinci as well. Carefully rising so as not to disturb the patterns they had made, they hopped back to the sidewalk to admire their handiwork. There, in the snowfield, two angels now appeared. Christine patted at her hair, checking for her new combs, he fancied, and the trio, after some dusting off, continued on their way, to their waiting homes.

Erik watched until she was out of sight, watching longer still as the day began to fade toward evening. The snowfall, which had continued on and off throughout the day, was on again, lazy flakes riding the wind and spiraling down like falling stars.

And now, he supposed, it was time for his own lesson.

For Erik and the boy he had never had a chance to be.

He looked around the snowy expanse of the rooftop, and thought of Christine’s list. The snowball fight had been accomplished. Sledding…was not an option. Oh, it would be quite possible on the higher, steeper pitched portions of the roof of the Palais Garnier, but the inevitable conclusion must give one pause.

Snow forts….again he considered the snow-covered Opera House. Well, and he already had the grandest snow fort anyone could imagine.

That left only two items on the list, and he set to the snowmen with a will that surprised him.

In short order, he had two figures, one tall, one smaller. He eyed the bag he had brought with him. It contained buttons for eyes, blue for Christine, brown and blue for himself. For his own figure, he had brought a hat, unused since a midnight sortie some months back had gone rather awry and he and the hat had had to make a quick detour into the Seine. And for Christine’s, well, he had brought away the small unwanted hair combs when he had delivered his gift to her dressing room. They would be returned of course, as the snow melted.

But…even with these accoutrements accounted for in the final design, the figures struck him as clumsy and unrefined.

If he was meant to be having fun, damn it, it should be fun for him, not an assault on his artistic sensibilities.

He set to the figures again, shaping, sculpting, a dress here, a cloak there, adding snow as needed until the figures took on a fuller semblance of life.

He finished Christine first, her face taking shape beneath his hands, her hair now tumbling about her shoulders, a cascade of sparkling snow. He stepped back, to consider. Yes, this was recognizable as Christine to anyone who had even a passing acquaintance with her. Soft yet strong. Demure yet commanding attention. Graceful even at rest.

The buttons for eyes did not suit this sculpt, but the combs... Carefully, he set them amid the snowy waves of her hair, and was pleased with the result.

His own form took shape even more quickly, lean straight lines, the billows of his cloak, long hands with icy frozen fingers of snow, shining slicked back hair.

The face… He sculpted the left side first, smooth unmarred features, half of a firm-lipped mouth, the long straight line of one side of his nose, jaw and cheekbone and brow sharp and defined.

And then he stopped, eyes closed, brow furrowed and surely it was only melting snow he felt upon his cheeks...

The decision reached, he faced himself again and with trembling hands worked on the right side of his face, sculpting not a mask, but a semblance which matched the left, his face as it should have been, in some world out of time where he had been born a boy who could go outdoors, who had learned how to play, who had known the joys of family and home and love.

Stepping back, he saw a man he did not know, but somehow wished to. And next to the man, the girl who was fast becoming his teacher, perhaps leading him to come to know this strange version of himself at her side.

Shaking his head at his odd evening fancies, Erik delved into the bag, finding the hat, well suited to the figure before him, the hat having seen and been through much and lived to tell the tale. Settling it on the figure’s head, he tipped it low on the right side, as he wore his own, and acting on some instinctual impulse, with his finger he drew a line on the snowy visage, slanting from the left forehead to the right corner of the mouth, which he found comforting in some unknowable way.

Well. That left only one item on the list.

Removing his cloak and hat, he sat in the snow some small distance from the snow people, and laying back, moved his arms and legs in great sweeping, freeing arcs, his length of limb creating a startling large angel when he stood and inspected it.

An Angel of Music.

Something he and Christine genuinely had in common. Long before he came into her sphere, she had been visited by the Angel of Music; it was evident in her talent and passion and power.

And despite the vagaries of his life and birth, one thing he was truly grateful for, one thing that had saved him time and again, one thing that he believed in above all else, was his own visit from the very same angel.

It seemed fitting that these snow versions of himself and Christine had their own angel, as well.

He drew a staff in the snow between angel and student and teacher and with careful touches from the toes of his shoes, wrote a song in the snow for them to share. Although at this point, on this day, on this night, it was really rather moot now as to who was the student and who the teacher.

Erik dusted himself off, donning cloak and hat again, rolling the bag of buttons small enough to tuck into his pocket, and strode to the edge of the roof to look out over the city.

Paris lay covered in an absolution of pure white snow, a forgiveness of drifts that gleamed and glittered in the city lights below.

Snow swirled in the wind, and he knew by morning, his and Christine’s snow features would be blurred into generality, the angel windswept to a soft impression of the powerful muse he knew, the snow song unreadable and unknown except to those who had been there when it was written.

All fading into the past, leaving only tomorrow in view.

He felt again a tingle that he recognized as anticipation. The break would not be too long. Christine would return. Their mutual lessons would resume. Who knew what they would learn together?

Leaning out, over the roof’s edge, he spoke, and watched his words turn to mist, carried off by the ghost of an evening breeze.

“Merry Christmas, Christine…”

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BONUS by @gracie-p8-officialblog

#PotO Advent Calendar #PotO #Phantom of the Opera #Door 23

55 notes · View notes

imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

Text

Nerdflirt 2

Henry Cavill x reader twoshot (2/2)

Word count: 2.768

Disclaimer: good ol’ domestic fluff

Summary: I think we need to talk. Read this after part 1

This story is based on a prompt I received from @aestheticqueenb

Tagsquad: @tumblnewby

(Link to my Masterlist)

‘O.M.G. Did you see that? Henry Cavill, wew, what a total snack.’ Jessica, your colleague came bursting into the ladies room, her head automatically flicking towards the mirror to check out her impeccable make-up.

Jessica and you had been working at Brunello’s for three years now and were close knit colleagues. You worked the same shifts, had the same interests and a little gossip in the ladies room wasn’t out of the question.

Today seemed to be no exception, even though it felt strange after you hadn’t seen eye to eye for months as you had been stuck at home due to the Corona virus. This first day back at work sure was…strange.

Your eyes flashed back to your phone. “I think we need to talk” Talk? About what? Your eyebrows knit together as you thought this was very unusual for SirEltharin. What’s with the seriousness all of a sudden? He wanted to stop the amicable thing they had going on? Did he have like a wife he never spoke of, who had found out about his new “friend”?

‘Hey, what’s that?’ Jessica peered over at your phone, noticing you were staring a some chat message. You shrugged, quickly tucking the device back into your pocket. ‘Nothing.’ You smiled, stepping back a bit as Jessica stretched out her neck even further, curious by your sudden exhibition of mysterious shyness. ‘Nothing? Oh come on. Show me.’ She demanded, stretching out her hand. ‘Mm..don’t think that’s wise. Corona and all?’ You shrugged, knowing full well that even without the Corona virus you’d never had shown your phone to Jessica. You just knew that Jessica would have hijacked the conversation, stealing your phone for long enough to find out who the mysterious SirEltharin was.

‘What’s up with you today?’ Jessica shook her head, her body turning back to look into the mirror and apply some new lipgloss. ‘Nothing. It’s just..weird to be back. I mean. It’s literally been months. I haven’t been home alone that long..like..ever.’ You widened your eyes and also moved to look back into the mirror, your hip leaning into the sink.

‘So did Henry Cavill say anything to you? I saw you standing at his table Grimmy.’ Jess tried to sound only mildly interested, the brush of her lipgloss slowly gliding over her pouting lips.

‘Jess..ugh..you’re incorrigible.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘His table just wanted to order some drinks, nothing more.’

‘Right. And that’s why he rushed to the men’s room right after you left in a hurry?’ She clicked her tongue, laughing merrily. ‘Highly HIGHLY doubt it.’

You knit your brows together. Was it…? No. It couldn’t be. Like ..what were the chances your mysterious Insta-friend was some A-list celebrity. Ha. That’d be TOTALLY ridiculous.

‘Well I highly doubt there’s any correlation. I just had to use the restroom..and so did he..most probably.’ You shrugged and walked back out of the ladies room, waving Jess goodbye. ‘Got to go before the boss lord fires the both of us for lazying around. See ya later Jess.’

Before long you were swallowed back into the hectics of work, your feet zipping past the neatly laid out tables as you carried trays of food, your thoughts about SirEltharin easily pushed to the background.

One o’clock at night. Your first day back at work had been exhausting. Perhaps because your team had been slightly understaffed for the amount of guests. Perhaps because you weren’t used to working together anymore after such a long hiatus. And perhaps, just maybe, you, personally, had spent a bit too much energy gawking at Henry Cavill whenever you could, his eyes meeting yours every now and then. Jess was right. He was a total snack.

But now you were back at home. Reality settled in again. And that mysterious message still remained unanswered. Opening your Instagram your eyes immediately fell back on SirEltharin’s last message.

SirEltharin - ‘I think we need to talk.’ - 5 hours ago

‘I think we need to talk.’ You leaned into the old oak desk, your head tilting slightly as you crossed your arms. He didn’t look up, too engrossed with his brush as it stroked in minituous movements over the tiny plastic wings, their size no bigger than a thumb nail. A very nicely manicured thumbnail that belonged to one bear of a man.

‘Mmm.’ He hummed, encouraging you to go on, his eyes still trained on the tiny object between his fingers.

‘Babe.’ You sighed, your hand hooking under his chin and tilting his head back so he had no other choice but to look at you.

‘Yes dear?’ He smiled sweetly, albeit clear his attention was still elsewhere.

Talk, you mimed, your lips speaking soundless words, your eyes widening as he still seemed reluctant to the idea of talking, his eyes quickly flicking back to the miniature in his left hand.

‘Okay okay. Give me a moment to store this away.’ He sighed, offering you his sweetest of puppy eyes. Rolling your eyes you gave in, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you crossed your arms again. ‘Go on then.’

With nimble fingers he placed the little wings back on a toothpick, ready to dry along with the other hundreds of small items that were pinned into the piece of styrofoam at the end of the desk. Your eyes followed his moves with interest, travelling back and forth as he moved to settle everything just right. When he seemed to be stalling a bit too much, you cleared your throat, alarming him to not test your patience.

‘Okay! Done!’ He quickly turned in his chair, smiling sweetly while looking up at you, your body still leaning against the desk. You sighed and looked down at him, trying your best to be stern but also desperately failing. Those big blue eyes could make you do and say anything, really.

‘What is it dear?’ He smirked, looping his hands around your wrists and pulling you closer to him, your body automatically stepping into the room between his legs, his arms quick to circle your waist.

‘You and I had a deal, remember?’ You quirked your head waiting for him to process, seeing the little cogs and wheels turning in his head. Then he remembered, his eyes clearing as his smile grew. The deal. Ah yes, the deal.

‘I remember, sweetheart.’

‘No more secrets.’ You reminded him.

‘Absolutely.’ He smiled, squeezing your buttocks with his large hands. You widened your eyes, admonishing him for his cheeky behaviour - literally cheeky.

‘So, why is the door to the garage locked?’ You raised an eyebrow.

‘Oh..that.’ He swallowed a chuckle, his teeth quick to bite his lip.

‘Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill. Are you keeping secrets from me?’ Your eyes widened even further, when his chuckle burst through, his lips turning into a wide grin.

‘Don’t be Grim, baby.’ He cooed, kissing your navel through the thin material of your shirt.

‘No playing games with me, good Sir.’ You tilted up his head again with a finger, raising your eyebrow in question. ‘Now tell me what you are up to.’

‘Well..okay..’ He got up at once, his height towering over you all of a sudden. He smiled down upon you, his hands moving to gently cup your face.

‘Paint Hen. Paint.’ You protested, but he didn’t stop, his thumbs now brushing over your cheeks.

‘Sshh it’s fine. My hands are clean.’

‘And your conscience? Clean as well?’

‘I guess you’ll have to see for yourself?’ He shrugged, playfully pecking your lips.

‘Henry.. I don’t like surprises..you know that, I..’ He turned you around with the least bit of effort, his hands settling in your lower back as he pushed you in the direction of the hallway, down the stairs and to the garage.

From his pockets he retrieved a pair of keys, making you gasp softly. Ah! So that’s where they went! The sneaky bear! The garage had this really old lock with only one set of keys - near impossible to get copied - and so usually it was unlocked, except for today. You had found it more then a little strange. Why would he want to suddenly start locking the garage? It was just the door from the hallway to the garage, there was no need to lock it..right? Did he buy something silly again? Oh please don’t let it be like a sea of a thousand roses or some corny shit like that. You always thought such a thing was a waste of money.

‘Okay, now, close your eyes.’

‘Oh Hen..no… No surprises. Come on. Just…’

‘Close. Your. Eyes.’ He pleaded gently, kissing your forehead.

‘Am I going to ..like..this?’

‘Stop talking.’ He chuckled, slowly turning the key in its crunchy old lock, your eyes now finally closed.

Please don’t let it be corny. Please don’t let it be corny.

Henry looped his arm around your lower back and walked the two of you inside, halting you somewhere in the middle of the garage. It was…strange. Wasn’t the car usually here? Oh dear… Did he make it into some tacky game room with big black leather seats? He had fantasized about it the other day. Oh please no. That’d be so..

‘Open your eyes.’ Your thoughts slowed as you opened your eyes to see…wait..what? This was not a thousand roses, or a bunch of stinky black leather couches. No. It was..a landscape..table? You moved closer, the TL light flickering above your head as you quirked your head, finally realising what it probably was. Ah.

‘Is this what I think it is?’ You looked back at Henry with a glint of surprise in your eyes. Henry shrugged casually.

‘A Warhammer ..game table?’ You started to giggle as you saw Henry’s eyes glimmer with boyish enthusiasm, even though he truly tried his best to play it down like it was nothing. It was more than a little clear he was enjoying every second of it.

‘Ah you know, it’s a shared hobby of ours and..the shelves are running out of space..so..I..’

You turned back to further examine the table. Deep oak wood just like the furniture in the study - it would probably fit just perfect there. And from the looks of it, it was made to offer the player full flexibility, thousands of tiny holes making a large grid, which could be used to secure building structures or landscaping elements. For now there were already a few of them placed, creating a small little sci-fi town at the far end of the table.

‘It’s got drawers too.’ Henry noted, stepping in and pulling at the sides, long drawers opening there. ‘Good for the pieces we want to hide slash store away. Separate armour pieces, guns, ..’

Your soft giggle turning into laughter. ‘Oh my dear lords Henry..hahahahaHAHA.’

‘What? Is it bad? Too dorky?’ His face fell a little flat, worrying that you didn’t like it.

‘Oh no. It’s just like.. like telling a woman; oh, and the dress’s got pockets too.’ You laughed as Henry gave you an even more puzzled look.

‘Which is..?’

‘Good Henry. It’s good. It’s great. Oh my. Praise be the God Emperor!’

You turned back to face Henry, your lips still stretched in a wide smile. He grinned, relieved you liked it, then stepped back behind you, looping his arms around you and laying his head on your shoulder. Your eyes kept travelling across the board, taking in the little details.

‘Hey..is that..are these our..?’ Your laughter quieted down for a moment as your fingers brushed over golden letters that were lain into the wood.

‘Initials. Yes.’ He nuzzled your neck.

‘What?’ You blurted out, your voice laced with your confusion. Like, you totally understood why he wanted to have such a table. Especially with the vast collection of miniatures he had collected and painted by now. But have your initials there too?

‘At the other side you can also find our in-game names.’ He pointed at another set of shiny letters.

‘SirEltharin?’

‘And LadyGrim. Mhm.’ He nodded into your neck, playfully biting your ear, his body pressing you into the table, your hip now stuck between the table and a very happy-to-see-you Henry. You twisted your body slightly so you could look him in the eye, your hip still stuck between him and the table.

‘Why?’ You asked, completely flabbergasted by this ridiculous gesture. You had been dating for a year now. And let’s be honest. Most of your relationships would end by this time. Guys would lose interest. Cheat. Start to become big boychilds who nagged you until you snapped. But Henry? Oh no. He ordered a custom made Warhammer game table with both your names engraved into it. Like..really just…why?

‘Because I really, really love you. From the moment I first saw you I just knew.’

‘Embarrassingly so.’ You added.

‘Yes..a bit, hmm?’

‘You stared all night.’

‘And you didn’t even know I was..well..like..that you knew me.’

‘Yea..you sneaky bugger.’

‘Will you ever forgive me?’

‘Mmm..gotta keep working on that.’ You tutted. ‘Maybe, repay in kind?’

‘What kind..hmm?’ He hummed.

‘Oh..you know..’ You pushed your hip into his groin, making some room for yourself to turn and face him, his body not wasting a moment to pin you back to the table, his frame crowding you as he leaned in, his lips hovering mere inches away from you.

‘Like..this?’ He leaned down for a heated kiss, his soft lips feeling like hot little pillows on yours, his dimpled chin scratching you just a little. And you liked it, humming into the kiss, his hands now pinning you fully into the table, spread at either side of your body.

‘Maybe.’ You sighed against his lips.

‘Well, at least I started..’ He grinned.

‘Gotta keep up with the practice.’ You agreed, squealing as he easily picked you up, his hands pulling your legs at either side of his hip.

‘Now let’s see if there’s more we can make on here.’ He growled, bending you backwards over the table, your arms now sprawling up over your head and your back flat on the pinboard like structure. You sure must have looked like you were some kind of large space monster, your arms only missing the little village with mere inches as you squealed and writhed beneath Henry’s administrations.

Let’s just say that his hands were not only good at painting tiny miniatures.

‘Oh you are quite something Sir.’ You breathed, your eyes meeting in between passionate kisses, his hands drifting down to the hemline of your skirt.

‘Always sweet LadyGrim. Always.’ He smiled.

‘Hmm..I think I might need to change my name.’ You smiled, giggling as he brushed feather light fingers over the inside of your thighs.

‘I can help with that.’ He whispered.

You crooked up an eyebrow. ‘Can you?’

‘..If you’ll let me.’

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x reader #nerdflirt #warhammer 40k #miniatures #painting #game table #board #ladygrim #sireltharin #surprise

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howemancing · 3 years ago

Text

WIP Wednesday?

I was tagged by @dalishkadan. I tag uh. @thedascharlatan, @allisondraste, This is somewhat a sneak preview for my main fic, but I’m also not sure I’m gonna keep it - it’s an intense chapter and this might be a little too off the main point of the chapter. It’s WIP, so clearly editing hasn’t happened yet. A flashback scene in progress - maybe the last I’ll do for awhile?

Elsa Cousland, 9 years ago

Grey eyes stared at me, stony, cold, and full of threat. My throat felt suddenly drier; what had I done to piss Nathaniel off this time? It had been a long time since I’d made him so genuinely angry.

My grip tightened on my daggers, holding them ready. I could see him do likewise, eyes narrowed.

“You can do this, pup,” Father cheered me from the sidelines.

Rendon chuckled, casting a sidelong glance. “Are you so certain she needs the encouragement, my lord?”

Papa clapped him on the back cheerfully. “Probably not, old friend, but a father can’t help be proud of their child. I admit, I’m rooting against yours, now.”

Rendon chuckled, but my focus was back on Nathaniel, who was openly scowling at this point.

“Are you...alright?” I asked, hesitant.

“Focus on the match,” he chided me immediately. Which, rude, but he wasn’t wrong.

I nodded, getting into a ready stance.

“Begin,” Rendon’s voice snapped out.

In a flash, Nathaniel came at me harder than I’d ever seen before. The ferocity of it almost made me lose the match right there, but a particularly aggressive moment on his part left a wide opening I could brutally punish with a kick, buying myself a moment of breath.

“Attagirl, Pup!” Father called cheerfully, while Nathaniel scowled harder.

I stared at him, trying to divine what was wrong, but after a moment, realized it didn’t matter. Father was here. Father was going to decide if I’d learned anything after all. I had to prove myself, prove that I hadn’t wasted my years, that I wasn’t the silly, frivolous girl Rendon thought I was.

Everything was riding on this moment. I wouldn’t let even Nathaniel stand in my way.

I met his eyes, then, determined. In his own I saw understanding - and, confusingly, hurt. Clearly I’d erred somehow, but I’d have to find out why, later. This match mattered. And if Nathaniel wanted to bring his all to stop me, well, I could appreciate the challenge. And I’d rise above it.

Unusually for us, no taunts were exchanged, no words spoken. Nathaniel’s practice daggers flashed out, continuously intent on striking the killing blows which would end the match. I ducked and wove around them. Thomas had given me more than enough training in someone who just wanted to do whatever it took to stop me. Coming from Nathaniel, it was surprising, but - this was Nathaniel.

I was missing something, and as much as I wanted to focus, my brain couldn’t help pick apart the knot of whatever was wrong with my friend. It took me a moment, but finally I realized - he just wanted to push me, to give me every chance in the world of showing off exactly how much I had learned.

A savage grin took me, finally stumbling upon this realization, and the last chain holding me back fell away. Nathaniel was holding nothing back. Why should I?

I struck out, sliding my dagger in between the gaps in his defense I’d noted, beginning to score on him more and more. His frustrations only seemed to grow, which I didn’t quite understand, but it didn’t matter. The match was steadily turning in my favor. Nathaniel usually had a plan, and tended to get easily unsettled when things threw him off - and grumpy, too.

I could use that.

One particularly keen moment locked us, and I felt him trying to bear his entire strength down on me, which felt a bit unfair, as he had 5 years and a few stone on me.

“I’ve always admired you,” I said quietly, and his eyes widened, startled. I used that moment, hooking out a leg and breaking his stance.

“But I won’t let you stop me,” I finished, shoving hard at the right moment, forcing his stumble back.

It was enough of a weakness, and I pounced, practice daggers flashing faster then they ever had before. A particular energy had taken hold of me. Rendon had never believed in me, but couldn’t I prove myself, now? I was good. I was very good, I knew I was. Nathaniel believed in me - why else would he come after me so hard? I would show them all.

Nathaniel, my rival, my best friend (with Delilah!), the boy I’d been silly enough to have a crush on, thankfully one I was finally getting over. But he was smart, talented, and I would prove I was his equal. No, that I was better. Maybe there were some things he could still beat me in, and he was probably a better rogue than me, but like Thomas always said, I was a freakishly violent girl. I could do this.

It wasn’t easy. He was probably my fiercest challenge to date. But in the end, I was more prepared for his ferocity than he was mine, and the match ended when I dumped him on his butt and slammed forward, dagger hovering at his neck.

My father let out a loud whoop, but Nathaniel just squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. And it began to occur to me that Nathaniel very much hadn’t wanted to lose.

“Ashes, Nate, what’s wrong?” I muttered, dagger still hovering, hesitant, at his neck.

“Nothing,” he lied, refusing to meet my eyes. “Congratulations on your victory.”

Father congratulated me with a whoop and a fierce hug, which squished all the giggles out of me as I clung right back to him.

“Didja see, didja see-?” I began, and father laughed louder, kissing my cheek.

“Old friend, you’ve trained her wonderfully,” he congratulated my mentor. “Better than your own son, I noticed!”

“Thank you, my lord,” Rendon replied evenly. Nathaniel stood up, brushing himself off, looking bitter.

Oh. Oh.

Sod it all. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I found him later by our tree, angrily chucking stones into the lake.

“Hey,” I said hesitantly, unsure. He had to be aware of my approach, and yet he’d said nothing.

“Good match,” he said evenly, chucking another stone.

“What’s-”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he asserted immediately, lying.

I stamped a foot. “Nate,” I objected, stealing the next stone before he could chuck it. He blinked, looking at his hands, before glancing to me, sighing.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m being an ass.”

“A little,” I agreed solemnly, and he scowled, before a rueful expression took his face. “But I was an ass too, I shouldn’t’ve-”

“This isn’t your fault,” he interrupted me quietly. “Honestly. You did - you did everything right.”

“So what’s-”

“I’ll miss you,” he told me, and it was excuse enough; I launched myself at him and hugged him tightly.

“I’m not gone, you goose, just going home,” I pointed out. “You can visit me any time. You and Delilah. In fact, I insist!”

He chuckled faintly, reverberating his ribcage pleasantly, arms tightening around me. It began to provoke inconvenient feelings in me, so I disengaged. He sighed, shoulders slumping as he allowed it, eyes drifting to the lake. “It’s...going to be a little hard to visit, soon,” he said gently.

“See, that’s why you should come in late fall, and then, oops! Guess you can’t travel and you’ll have to stay in Highever all winter,” I informed him cheerfully. “I can’t wait to show you everything, home is so pretty, and our hounds are WAY better, and we have so many beautiful trees, and...hey. Why do you look so glum?”

His hands twitched, and for a concerning second, I thought he wanted to fold me into another hug.

I probably wouldn’t have resisted, which said something about me. I really needed to explain to Nathaniel to stop flirting so much, but - it was my fault, really, for getting carried away, and anyway, it wouldn’t matter, soon, right?

But instead he just shrugged helplessly. “I...don’t think that will work,” he claimed, and I sighed. Neither he nor Delilah were keen to visit me, and I didn’t really understand why, but letting them know I was hurt would just be rude.

“Of course,” I said simply. “Well, I hope you’ll find the time to visit me at some point.”

“You’ll still visit us, right?”

I gave him a wan smile. “Any time, Nate. Just...just ask.”

“Ok. Ok, then,” he said quietly. A faint smile crinkled his eyes, which seemed - stormier than usual. “You did amazingly, today.”

“YEAH I did,” I crowed gloriously, pleased he had recognized as much.

“I bet so many nobles are going to want to marry you, now that you’re going back home,” he pointed out, and I shoved him, hard.

“I’ll make you eat dirt again, I will,” I threatened him.

He chuckled, faintly, and with a surprising lack of grace for Nathaniel, plopped down on the ground, and after a moment, I came to sit next to him. “I’ve dreaded this day for so long,” he confided in me. And I blinked.

Then sighed. Damn these boys and their damnable pride. “Nathaniel, you’re still a much better rogue than me,” I admitted, words galling, but he deserved the honesty. “If you’d had real daggers, if you’d wanted to kill me - th’match would have been over much quicker. I just went for your weaknesses and tricked victory out of you.”

“Elsa!” he said, shocked. “I don’t-”

“Want to hurt me, I know,” I groused, rolling my eyes. “I just mean - I’m gonna have an advantage in friendly matches. ‘Specially against people I know. But when it counts, if you were up against a real bad guy...well, I’m very glad we’re friends, is all.”

“You wouldn’t have to leave if we were engaged!” he burst out.

I stared at him. And blinked. And fought the sudden tears in my eyes. Dang rogues, why did he always have to go for my weakest parts?

“Oh - oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” he said quickly

I laughed, forced. “Don’t joke like that, Nate, it’s rude.”

“I…” he said, trailing off. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“I forgive you,” I told him immediately.

“Liar,” he whispered. “I keep hurting you and you keep forgiving me, and-”

“Nate,” I breathed, aggrieved. “You’re making a big deal out of it. Stop. I said I forgive you and I mean it. You’re my friend, I don’t - I don’t want to be mad at you.”

“Oh.”

Silently we sat, staring at the water before us, Nathaniel a gloomy cloud next to me.

“I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished here,” I said quietly, wishing my friend would just be happy for me. “Even if - even if your dad thinks I’m silly, I’m - I’ve learned a lot. And I’m happy I’m going home. I missed my family, Nate,” I said quietly.

He hunched over, lower. “Oh. Maker. I’m such a selfish ass.”

Considering he was getting all contrary about visiting me and expected me to drop everything and visit him - “You are,” I agreed.

His scowl deepened, and somehow the shadows seemed to grow. “Are you going to forgive me for that too?”

I snorted, giving him a sidelong look, assuming he was teasing, but he just glared ahead. “Only if you come visit,” I teased him.

A spark of life appeared in his eyes, then. “Ok. That’s fair.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He never did end up visiting me, but he had a pretty good excuse. Not long after I left I got a letter, informing me he was going to go all the way to Starkhaven to start knight training. I may have thrown myself onto the bed and sobbed a bit when I read that. But he asked me to come visit to see him off, and there was really only one response.

Seeing the Howes again was fun, though of course Thomas challenged me to a sparring match right away and the cad tried to turn it into overly touchy wrestling. Unluckily for him, I suddenly remembered I didn’t have to care about pissing him off too much such that he’d whine to his father, so I simply caught him in an unforgiving headlock and choked him out, dropping him unceremoniously to the dirt when I finished.

Delilah claimed time, as apparently Nathaniel was getting his clothes fixed by Adraia, and had borrowed Helma from Delilah as well, so she found it only fair to borrow me.

We laughed and giggled and swapped stories about Nathaniel, both of us keen to avoid admitting how much we’d miss him.

“Did you ever tell him how you used to feel?” Delilah asked me.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m over it, Delilah, what’s the point in bringing that old story up?”

“I guess,” Delilah agreed, flouncing back on her bed, legs kicking out. “It’s still be cute though.”

I giggled. “You’re such a silly romantic,” I teased her. “What do you want me to do, write a love letter?”

“Elsa, no!” she protested, offended.

“Oh dearest Nate, my heart yearns the hardest, it burns so burningly,” I began performatively.

“Elsaaaaa!” she whined, standing up and stamping her foot. “You can’t confess through letters, that’s just wrong.”

“Didn’t what’shiface confess to what’sherface through a letter?” I pointed out slyly.

“Exactly,” Delilah agreed. “It went TERRIBLY. See-”

I quickly waved my hands in surrender. “No, please, don’t try to tell me about that book more, it’s rotting your brain.”

“I’m just saying,” Delilah pouted. “You’re friends. You shoulda told him properly, is all.”

I giggled. “I’m glad I didn’t. That would have been SO mortifying.”

“But-”

“Lilah, c’mon.” My eyes slid from hers, and her mouth snapped shut, apparently my tone was more serious than I meant to reveal. “I’m not as brave as you think I am.”

She sighed, and came to sit next to me, arm around my shoulder, and we sat in silence. “I’ll miss him.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and with effort, I forced them back. “Me too,” I whispered.

#Nathaniel Howe #elsa cousland #fanfiction #wip #delilah howe

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candideangel · 4 years ago

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Abanian AU: Ladies of Ramuh

for @invidia1988‘s Abanian AU Wordcount: 2756 Mentions of @invidia1988‘s Divinity and other characters as brief glossovers of @maiden-born-in-snow & @earthlystar

Dark clouds rolled across the horizon of cliffs and plateaus of washed out browns and reds, lightning flashed still bundled within the cocoon and have yet to release a full strike to the ground below. Rain made the terrain under her feet slightly muddy, but it wasn’t something out of the ordinary, it felt nice as most storms were often a source of comfort in its symphony. She could just stand here for hours and just have her eyes closed, listening at the rain washed to the ground, the sound of the roaring waterfall nearby, along with the drum beats of rolling thunder that accompanied the flashes behind her eyelids.

However, something in the air felt different now, the weather starting to shift and as she opened her eyes slowly she saw the darkening clouds were becoming netted in an endless wave of lightning energy, the feeling of static crawling from the tips of her hair though damp were standing on end and the feeling trailed down along her back as if a gentle finger was caressing her bare skin and gave rise to goosebumps along the trail. But it was the smell in the air that became noticeable, as if something was burning...charging, growing all the more hot, but then it came with an earth shaking CRACK that sent her to lose her balance and fall to the slightly muddy ground under her. A bolt of violet lightning struck the ground beneath it not but a few yalms away, once thought to be dampened dry brush catching with a spark. That spark turning into a wildfire blaze that not even the rain could put out. Lightning strikes weren’t unheard of in her home, but none of them sparked a blaze that seemed to grow higher without the aid of other plant life, pillaring and towering, the growing heat could be felt even from her distance.

Higher, higher, twisting, spinning like a tornado of fire as it started to expand outward as if something was trying to break free of binds. A sudden gust of wind rolled across the plains as ribbons of flame burst apart and though a few came within a finger’s breadth of streaking across the exposed skin of her flesh, her eyes were awestruck at the giant avian creature swathed in the same colored flame, rich in reds and golds and a long tail as each flap of what could’ve been a wingspan of unknowable number unless truly seen making small bursts of winds when from its mighty beak it cried. It was high, shrill, but at the same time equal parts musical.

Another beat of its wings and it took off across the landscape, and her jaw nearly hit the ground as it flew over her head, she could feel the heat but almost the grace of the feathers, but she had to grip the ground for a purchase to not be forced back from the buffet. As the tail finished brushing overhead she looked over her shoulder where the direction of it was going and while she was often trained not to rush headlong into the unknown without being equipped to do so, her body felt as if it were moving on its own; something about the sight was calling to her. It was so...inexplicable.

Bare feet splashed into puddles splattering mud and earth in her wake, chasing the glowing avian creature as it seemed to call out again with that same musical cry. She still chased it, following as rain poured heavier and practically getting in her eyes and shaking it off every so often. Her feet could feel a decline under her as sandy earth started to give way to smooth red rock as the bird was flying further out of reach, faster and away over the steep cliff that came with a roaring waterfall and raging river below it. But her eyes refocused on something that was floating down, glowing like an ember and as she reached the edge of the cliffside she had to grind her feet into the ground as she stretched out a hand, toes absently curled around one of the ledges while the other acted as an anchor before she felt what her fingers grasped in her fist.

It was soft for certain, but much like its ember-like appearance it scalded against her skin, but that didn’t shake the resolve as she opened her hand a little. Laying on the flat of her palm was a red feather tipped with gold, it could have looked like an odd colored peacock feather, with the centered eye ringed with gold looking almost like a ruby in the middle. Even as the rain cascaded, it still acted like a glowing lantern, her hand still aching from a burn on her palm, but the rounded question that circled her thoughts was; what does this mean?

Green eyes slowly fluttered open and a soft groan escaped lightly stained lips as Angelique, a bowwoman and daughter of Ramuh reached up a little with a hand to block out the encroaching sunlight that was beaming through the leaves in the trees. It hadn’t rained a bit in the Shroud today, it was sunny and the sky clear and not obscured by clouds. A soft sigh escaped as she gazed at her palm, a little of the hand she had used to collect the feather in her dream, but it was not scarred by flame, no redness, just smooth pale skin. “How strange…” she muttered to herself as she let her hand rest lightly on her face, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

Dreams of storms were not unknown to her, they brought her to peace, but this drastic change didn’t sit correctly within. It just filled her with confusion.

“Sleeping one will be late to escort seeing one!” A high voice as Angelique looked down to see a green fairy-like creature; a Sylph looking up at her worriedly. “This one was asked to wake the sleeping one by other ones of Ramuh!”

“I understand.” Angelique replied and reached up to pull her hair up, letting the unruly part of her bangs remain over one of her eyes as she climbed down from the tree, letting herself drop the remaining few ilms before collecting the large harp-like bow that had been leaning against the trunk. For any other person with little skill it could be mistaken as just a piece of junk and unusable, but she was different than some skilled in her bow and able to use it with practiced ease. Today was the day she was to escort the seeres Divinity, another daughter of Ramuh, to the lands of the Lakshmi where they were to have their ceremony. One that she recalled was at times silly as men competed to win the affections of a single woman of their hopeful choice, but she wasn’t one to spit on the customs of another tribe. Silently she strapped the bow into place over the quiver as she walked through the village of the Sylphs and others who were raised under the guidance of the Lord of Levin.

“Heh, looks like the wild one of us woke up late again.” Angelique could hear one of the other ladies speak to another, giggling.

“Hard to believe that she was given a special invitation to the Lakshmis’ event. Much less guard the Seeres.” another one spoke, this one a young man as he adjusted some spectacles.

It was a topic much often raised, Angelique hadn’t been feral, she just worked and clawed her way to where she was chosen in exchange her social skills weren’t always that polite. She was wild, an untamed mare as they said, figuring she would be one of the few who would end up being alone. But...what was a bit of loneliness when she was able to show people she was capable at her job? Angelique shouldered her responsibility for being Divinity’s escort very seriously.

Even as she entered the large purple silk tent-like structure, she kept her manners in place as she was let in and gave the customary bow to Divinity even if she had her back to the hyur. “I apologize for my lateness, seeres. I-.”

“Slept again.” Came a two word reply, soft in voice for the tall Elezen figure.

“...Yes my lady…” Angelique muttered as she glanced away a little bit when she straightened her posture. There wasn’t an excuse to her actions, just something in that dreamstate kept her asleep, unable to wake up fully until it was over. Still she found it best to keep her lips clamped shut on the subject. “But I’m alert as ever for your escort.”

Divinity glanced over and nodded to Angelique, obviously whatever belongings that were meant to be packed for the trip to and from the home of the Lakshmi ladies had been set to go since before she had woken up. The Seeres wasn’t one for probing questions when there was other business to attend to at least not yet. Angelique had been given many a dire warning that protecting Lady Divinity was of the utmost importance and each time spoken a different way she eventually couldn’t stop the urge to roll her eyes at the notions as she helped the Seeres into the caravan that carried with it the no symbol in case someone chose to target the Ramuh escort; that would help take them through the slightly harsher landscapes of the Fringes. It was small and indistinct with the emblems hidden within.

There were a few final words before Angelique would start leading the caravan ahead keeping herself on foot rather than riding along. It was just how she much preferred it, but absently she did glance to her hand a little, as if she still felt like she carried that plume in her grasp, like the searing touch was pushed into her skin like a hot iron brand. All the while a dark bird with vibrant purple wingtips flew high in the air above them as it followed.

It had to be nothing.

The trip over the harsher sand and stone covered lands was uneventful at most, if only mildly interrupted by a few of the more wild beasts, and smaller creatures of questionable venomous levels. The road to Ala Ghiri was clear and dry, a few storm clouds in the far distance that didn’t seem to move with the dry heat, Angelique and Divinity had dressed and prepared for this more humid weather, lighter and easier to maneuver fairs, as some of the Ananta and guards had made to halt the caravan in its pace to enter, all it truly took was showing the invitation and helping Divinity from down the comfort of the caravan and into the noonday sun that could feel unforgiving for some, but the Shroud wasn’t unknown to arid dry summers at times. From Angelique’s gaze she could see the troupe from the Shivan and even the garish gold and red from Phoenix around and she found it safe to bring down the colors of Ramuh to the caravan; the rich dark blues and purple hues as well as the symbol of their representation before they entered into the center courtyard.

“Ah, the Ramuh troupe has finally arrived.” Raubahn had greeted them perhaps much like those of Phoenix and Shiva, the two bowing politely. “Is it just the two of you for the moment?” He questioned calmly and Angelique nodded.

“A smaller number was more sufficient in an unmarked caravan between travels gives less suspicion than a fully armed escort.” She replied, still balancing what looked to be the heavy weight of the bow on her back. “Whomsoever still wishes to attend will follow at their own pace before the fun starts.” she glanced around a little bit and tilted her head slightly, busy as the place was there was little fanfare.

“Seems we must have missed the Shivan prince’s choosing.” Divinity rest her hands just above her navel, standing tall and straight, her face rather unreadable. “Whom did he choose?”

There was a small pause before Raubahn answered calmly, “The prince has chosen the Blade Dancer’s sister. As well as it seems one from Phoenix was taken by one of Shiva’s as well.” He informed, Angelique paused and glanced over her shoulder a bit, green eyes peering up to the high wall, she could see the faint outline of the Blade Dancer standing on patrol near the Princess’s quarters no doubt. There was a small nod in understanding on Divinity’s part. They made small talk for a moment before a Lalafellian man walked his way up, fingers playing with the thin mustache on his tanned skin. He seemed to be appraising them.

“I dare say I have yet to meet the bevy of beauties that have come from Ramuh.” He spoke, eyeing the two of them, Angelique stiffened slightly and could feel her skin just crawl and her stance shifted a little to be more in a protective notion beside the Seeres.

“Ah...Lord Teledji…” the Highlander male breathed out a soft huff from his nose, trying to hide his obvious distaste for the man in favor of keeping things polite. “As you should be aware, the special invitation for the Ramuh tribe was for the more elite of the two; Seeres Divinity and her escort Angelique. This is Lord Teledji Adeledji, a rather wealthy monetarist in Thanalan.” He introduced, but still the hyur could feel his eyes on her uncomfortably.

“Ah, and as an escort, I believed someone escorting such an important person would come with a blade, not a...ah...what is that on your back, dear girl? A harp you have been lugging about?”

Angelique bit back a retort that would border on insulting, letting her fingers absently grace along the strap against her chest. “It’s a bow my Lord Adeledji.” she spoke calmly as she was carefully choosing her words. “A gift to me as a bowwoman of the Ramuh, a show that I am proficient in my weapon skill and my dedication to my home. It's the Gandiva.”

“That’s a bow? From my point of view it looks like something that even someone as lithe as you looks like she may have a hard time pulling on. Perhaps you should stick to simply playing the little strings on it, hm?”

Once more the bowwoman bit down on her tongue for a retort, but her gaze caught something slithering across the sand, it was black like obsidian, scales shimmering in the light, tongue flicking and tasting the air. Then she gazed to Divinity, who was eyeing her from the side and then there came a simple nod before Angelique took Gandiva from its holding, and before one could think what she was doing she had nocked a gold tipped arrow at first blades were drawn in worry that Ramuh was turning on an invited guest, but instead the arrow shot past the Lalafellian and struck down into the black snake who let out a hiss and writhed about, long fangs dripping with venom struggled for a moment before falling silent.

“My apologies for startling you Lord Adeledji.” Angelique spoke, smiling, but there was a reading in her eyes telling the man he could burn as she went to gather the arrow from the snake corpse. “It looked like it was heading towards you, can’t be too careful in the desert.” She even gathered up the snake corpse and slid it into her bag, no use wasting something that could be used for a medicine in the future.

“Y-You dared point the arrow at m-!” Teledji outburst but Divinity would hold up a hand calmly.

“My escort would not raise her weapon unless need be, my lord.” she spoke her voice level as she looked to Angelique and then to Raubahn. “For now we must clean from the travels, if you would be as kind as to take us there Sir Raubahn.” It was obvious the highlander of the area was trying to hide his bemusement.

“Of course Lady Divinity, if you two would follow me, your caravan will be well-looked after during your stay.” He spoke as he would lead the two away, but not without Angelique shooting the Lalafellian a look that could whither a bloom before following into the cool shade of the buildings. It would be known that the ladies of Ramuh have arrived.

#ffxiv writing #abanian au #angelique candide #divinity #teledji adeledji #raubahn #invidia1988 #maiden-born-in-snow #earthlystar

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ashxketchum · 4 years ago

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Better than Usual - (another) TyHil oneshot

So I’m deciding to post this here as well, because I was super happy with how it turned out, even though the prompt for this one was dancing and I didn’t stick to it even a little bit. It has to be my favourite oneshot from the series, I think I enjoyed writing this one even more than the overprotective Tyson one, despite of that one having probably the best dialogue my brain has ever come up with in a dream.

Some background: Tyson and Hilary are in their early 20s in this one, and kind of stuck in the middle where they know they’re more than friends but don’t know what exactly. The party is Hiro’s engagement party, you can decide who he’s engaged to, I didn’t go deep into that bit!

Summary: Hilary’s mood for the night is ruined when Tyson fails to deliver a simple compliment, could dancing really be the solution to their problems?

FF.net

“How do I look?”

“The usual.”

Hilary felt vain and silly, but she couldn’t get his words out of her head. She hoped that the smile she had somehow managed to plaster on her face just as she had entered the venue, was enough to fool everyone into believing that she was feeling extremely happy for the engaged couple and not at all upset about the conversation she had had with her so-called best friend just about an hour ago. She was doubting their friendship because she couldn’t believe that someone who cared about her would speak so callously to her. The friend in question however, didn’t seem to be mulling over the conversation at all, she watched him dance stupidly with his friends from across the room. Grinning and laughing without a single care in the world, and as he did so, everyone around him followed like they were somehow compelled to. His happiness had always carried with it a certain kind of gravity, that automatically pulled everyone around him to feel the same, which is why she had chosen to seat herself far away, lest she got pulled in too and forgot all about the crime he had committed.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” The empty chair next to her slid back and the blond settled comfortably in it, passing her an inquisitive look as he rested both his elbows on the table and lowered his chin into his palms.

“I don’t really dance.” Hilary replied, as casually as she could manage.

She looked in front of her, at her glass of champagne lying untouched on the table and observed the bubbles popping up and about within the drink. Unlike her friends and probably every other person her age, the brunette still hadn’t managed to get used to the taste of alcohol, but was too stubborn to admit this out loud to anyone and too polite to say no to a drink in social situations. However, she had come to realize that stretching the same glass of drink from the beginning of the evening till the end had it’s own sets of advantages, one of them being that she always had something in her hand that served as a distraction from her surroundings.

“You don’t dance?” Max asked, his laugh reaching his blue eyes and they twinkled mischievously for just a moment, “Remind me how long we’ve known each other?”

Hilary shook her head defeatedly, and avoiding his gaze she picked up the glass of champagne in front of her and took a light sip, making sure to do this as slowly as possible so she could continue to avoid looking into Max’s direction.

“Let me rephrase my question, what did Tyson do this time?”

Ignoring his question, she took another light sip from her drink, letting her tongue adjust to the taste before repeating the process once again at an extremely slow pace, but next to her Max seemed completely unfazed by her actions and continued to look at her expectantly. It was a difficult task for anyone, to hold their own against Max’s big blue eyes that always carried a special glint in them that made one want to spill all their thoughts out to the blond, who seemed to enjoy listening to other people’s problems more than he normally let on.

She knew the battle was over the minute she decided to spare him a glance, just to check if he was still waiting for her to answer.

Their eyes met, Max grinned and Hilary let out a groan.

“Do you know how long it took me to do up my hair today?” She began through gritted teeth, setting the glass back down on the table, as gently as she could, “Almost two hours, Max! So when Tyson came to pick me up, I asked him how I looked and you won’t believe what he said!”

Max knew very well that he wasn’t supposed to answer when the brunette paused to take a deep breath, her face now flushed and fuming.

“He said, ‘the usual’. What is that supposed to mean?”

Hilary angrily crossed her arms against her chest and slumped in her chair slightly, not caring about creasing her dress as she had decided she was not going to vacate this chair and sulk silently until it was time to go home. She rarely ever fished for compliments from Tyson, she knew better than that. He had no filter, and most of the time asking him for an opinion on something was the same thing as starting an argument, as they still disagreed on pretty much anything except that day was day and night was night. But considering that they were both dressed up for a celebration, she had assumed that even Tyson would take note of her appearance and how much effort she had put into it, which had obviously been the wrong way to go. If she could turn back time, Hilary would go back and not ask Tyson how she looked, and prevent herself from ruining her mood and her evening by sitting in a corner and not being out there on the floor next to him.

“Well you’re more well versed in Tyson-speak than I am, so if you can’t make any sense of it, I’m sorry but I don’t think I can be of much help, Hils.” Max replied, passing her a sympathetic smile, his eyes roamed over her hair that had been braided into a flower crown that framed her head perfectly, “I know I’m not the person you want to hear this from, but your hair does look pretty. You look pretty!” Max remarked, breaking into his trademark grin once again.

Hilary felt the anger that had suddenly built up inside of her as she replayed that moment in her mind subside gradually and when she smiled in response at Max, it was vastly different than the one she had been sporting all evening.

“Thank you, Max. Now if you could just share that common sense braincell with your dear friend as well.”

There was a pause after she finished speaking, in which they both exchanged similar looks before bursting into a fit of giggles at her statement. Hilary was a bit too lost in the moment, which is why she didn’t immediately notice the chair on her other side being pulled back until after it was occupied.

“What are you guys talking about?”

Tyson asked as he relaxed into the chair, his midnight blue hair which had been neatly flattened at the start of the evening by his father, had already begun to stand up spikily in different directions like it usually did. Hilary had to keep her one hand tightly over the other in her lap to stop herself from instinctively reaching out and fixing it. You’re mad at him, she reminder herself, turning her angry gaze downwards to her lap, as if to scold her hands for moving on their own accord. Despite of being on his feet ever since they arrived, Tyson didn’t look tired, in fact he seemed to be oozing more energy than before and Hilary was afraid of the sudden lack of distance between them because she was sure she would get sucked into his flow and forget all about being angry with him, sooner than she had expected to.

“Nothing that would interest you.” Max answered, when she glanced at the blond, she noticed that the mischievous twinkle from earlier appeared again in his eyes as he met her gaze for a brief moment before he turned to smirk at his best friend.

The silence that followed was definitely more uncomfortable than when she had been sitting alone, she sneaked a peek at Tyson and saw that he was trying his best to not glare daggers at Max, who, Hilary noticed, was grinning now, taking joy in the reaction that Tyson had sent his way. She heard shuffling and saw Tyson shift his chair closer to hers, he draped his arm around the back of her chair, his fingers brushing against her bare shoulders as he did so. The warmth that always seemed to emanate from Tyson now enveloped her cheeks and Hilary hoped that the two boys being busy with their silent staring contest would fail to notice the redness on her face.

“Taking a break from dancing already, Tys? They’re still playing your favourite songs.” Max spoke finally, his smirk still intact.

“Yeah well, I saw you two talking so…” Tyson trailed off, shifting his gaze from Max to Hilary, a pout settling on his face, indicating that he wasn’t happy with being left out.

How typical, she thought and stopped herself from rolling her eyes at him.

“Hilary looked a bit lonely by herself, so I decided to keep her company.” Max shrugged, taking pleasure in the growing discomfort on Tyson’s face.

She tried her best to keep her eyes away from Tyson, because she knew if she saw him act like a child who had just lost their most prized possession, she would melt immediately. Not that Hilary considered herself to be his most prized possession, on most days she even doubted if she was his anything. They were friends that much was certain, he was her best friend, she was sure of that, but was she his best friend? This was something she could never be confident about. Even if they spent all their time together and she knew everything there was to know about him, and vice versa, there were always moments when the distance between them would become as wide as the one between the sea and the sky, even when they happened to be sitting right next to each other.

Although as disheartening as those moments were for her, it wasn’t as frustrating as trying to interpret Tyson’s real intentions towards her. Hilary couldn’t believe how much time she had spent trying to figure out what his bizarre statements meant, what him suddenly taking her hand when they walked through crowds meant. Why did he show up at her door with her favourite take-out exactly when she needed him, why when she called him at 4 am in the morning, crying over a silly nightmare, he would answer on the first ring and say exactly what she needed to hear. Why he always danced with her and stayed by her side when they went out partying, why he’d get annoyed if someone else dared to flirt with her. Her mother of course, told her she’d find the answers to these questions much quicker if she just confronted Tyson directly, but Hilary knew that she was supposed to the reach the conclusion by herself. It was, however grudgingly she had admitted to herself, the most difficult puzzle she’d ever attempted to solve in her entire life.

Right now for instance, just about an hour ago he had almost expressionlessly told her that she looked normal, not pretty or gorgeous, terms that people used to compliment a girl, Tyson had told her she looked usual. And yet, here he was scooting closer to her, putting his arm around her as if to mark territory and glaring at his friend, who anyone with a sane mind would be able to tell was just trying to get under Tyson’s skin anyway. And to add to the confusion she couldn’t stop agonising over how easily she was always affected by him and his actions. How she was still feeling upset about him not complimenting her, still feeling nervous about his hand behind her back, still feeling curious about whether he was falling for Max’s ruse and still feeling giddy over his jealousy for her.

It was completely unfair, she concluded to herself, for him to be able to be his oblivious self while he sent her feelings in disarray by just sitting down next to her for a few minutes.

Hilary finally dared to peek at Tyson, he looked disappointed somehow, thinking over what Max had said. Then their eyes met and she looked away quickly, heart racing.

Tyson didn’t speak for a while and even Max’s attention seemed to have wavered, Hilary followed the blond’s gaze to find him amusingly watching Chief attempting to show off his tap dancing skills to Ming-ming, who Hilary noticed, seemed to be actually impressed by their spectacled friend.

“Are you going to be able to finish this by today?”

Tyson asked her suddenly, changing the subject instead of addressing Max’s statement from earlier, as he gestured towards Hilary’s almost full glass of champagne. Not knowing whether opening her mouth would lead to her berating him for his insensitive remark from earlier or bumbling like an idiot because he had edged even closer, Hilary simply shook her head silently. Tyson then picked up her glass from the table and downed the drink in one go, this seemed to have grabbed Max’s attention as he snickered when Tyson put the now empty glass back down at the table. Hilary rolled her eyes, much to her dismay, her only escape mechanism for the night had been taken away and now she’d actually have to leave this chair to go get another drink for herself.

Like an electric shock, Tyson’s hand grabbed her wrist, jolting her out of her train of thought.

“Hey, don’t you love this song?”

Was all he said before pulling her on her feet with extreme ease and dragging her to the dance floor, without waiting for a response from her. As they left the table behind, Hilary heard Max’s laughter fade and before she could process what was actually happening, she was already in the middle of the floor, Tyson’s one hand was entwined with hers, while the other rested over her back, her own idle hand shot up and settled on Tyson’s shoulder before she even willed it to.

She was supposed to be mad at him, the thought came running back into her mind.

But then the music floated into her ears and she realized, that she did indeed love this song and Tyson had remembered.

Hilary knew there was no point in trying to hide the blush that was covering her face as she raised her head to look at Tyson. She had never appreciated the way the difference in their height had grown over the years, always buying shoes with heels to try and match his height, but even with the stilettos that she had donned today, the top of her head reached just below his chin. As always she was left no option but to gaze up at him which always made her heart race because she could never find fault with him when she looked up at him from this viewpoint, something she suspected that Tyson had also gotten aware of lately. He had been waiting for her to look up at him, when their eyes met, he grinned widely at her and somehow at that exact moment, the beat changed and he twirled her around masterfully before pulling her into him once again.

She was supposed to be mad at him, but she giggled happily anyway.

The song changed but they continued dancing, Tyson laughed and led while Hilary giggled and followed.

Their excitement rubbed off on the other guests and soon the dance floor was full with more people and couples than it had been when Tyson had grabbed her hand. The warm, happy feeling that was spreading across her made her wonder how she had managed to sit so far away from him and deny herself the bliss that came from being around Tyson. Sure he may not be an expert in showering her with compliments, but he definitely knew how to make her laugh and that was more than something most people ever got in life. It was infuriating however still, that despite of making her feel so happy, every time his hand dropped a little bit lower on her back, every time his eyes met hers, every time he smiled at her, every time he laughed with her, he still made her feel breathless and nervous and somehow all over the place.

“You’re so unfair.” Hilary murmured to herself, as she rested her head on his chest, untwisting her hand from his, she shifted it onto his shoulder, sighing contently. Tyson put both his hands around her waist and pulled her just a little bit closer into himself, making her sigh again.

“Unfair, how?”

She was surprised by his response, she thought she wouldn’t be audible but he’d heard her nonetheless. His voice was low too, and as he spoke, he lowered his head slightly to rest his chin on top of her head. She felt the warmth travel from the top all the way to her toes but she knew if she sighed again, Tyson would not let it go, so she held her breath and took in the feeling of being enveloped by him so gently, as calmly as she could.

They hadn’t been this close, physically, in a long time.

Hilary remembered the last time they’d stood like this like it had been yesterday, even though a whole year had passed since they had been stuck under the mistletoe at the Christmas party where Max and a few others had insisted that the two wouldn’t be allowed to make an exit if they didn’t fulfil the rule that came with standing under mistletoes. Just like how today he’d dragged her to the floor so suddenly, back then Tyson had pulled her into himself with such abruptness that she hadn’t understood what had happened until his lips had landed on her forehead, pulling back within seconds to crack a joke about her being too short for him to reach any other part on her face without getting on his knees, and disappeared immediately into the crowd. She remembered not talking to him for the rest of the night, maybe even the rest of the week. She had been furious with him for acting without warning her, annoyed with his jab at her height, embarrassed by the thought of being in his arms in front of all their friends, and dazed by the sensation of his lips on her skin.

Hilary knew she was partly to blame too, she always did forgive him without a second thought, most of the time she didn’t even wait for an apology and would speak to him normally the minute she’d start to miss him. Back when they were kids, she used to seethe and avoid him, forcing him to think about what he had done wrong and how he should fix it, but these past few years a day hadn’t gone by when she hadn’t seen or talked to him. Staying angry with each other over arguments became a thing of past, now they’d shout and glare and give each other the silent treatment for a while before returning to normal, the fight and it’s details totally forgotten. The stint over last year’s Christmas had probably been the longest she had gone without speaking to Tyson in years and even that had more to do with her being confused about what she was to him and how he really felt, than her being mad at him.

Of course, amongst all of this Tyson never showed a hint a discomfort.

She was the only one who was constantly battling with a whirlpool of emotions inside of her, while he laughed his way through life, never looking like being around her was any different for him than being around any of his other friends.

That’s what was unfair, Hilary thought to herself, but how was she supposed to explain this to him in the middle of a dance floor, wrapped in his arms, with her heart racing every time she got a whiff of the cologne he very rarely used.

“Unfair because, you make me feel so much, so strongly all the time,” she spoke into his chest, not even certain whether he could hear her or not, “while you get to relax and feel nothing.”

Hilary felt as if the song had slowed down for them after she finished speaking, as if time had slowed around them too.

She knew there had been other people dancing around them, but she couldn’t feel their presence anymore, it was only her and Tyson who were still swaying to that strangely warped tune echoing in her ears. She wanted to lift her head and see what was happening, she wanted to see Tyson’s face and make sure that she hadn’t slipped into some dream world where she had acquired the bravery to suddenly speak her mind to Tyson. And then a faint reverberation reached her ears and she was surprised to recognize it as Tyson’s heart beating faster than it was supposed to.

So it was possible to make him feel too, she thought, lifting her head from his chest to gaze up at him.

Tyson immediately lowered his head to her level and rested his forehead against hers, he did it as soon as she straightened up that it almost gave her goosebumps, she stumbled out of surprise but he held her steady, using it as an excuse to tighten his grip around her waist and pulling her closer, their bodies now completely pressed against one another, the tip of their noses touching gently.

Before Hilary could catch her breath, their eyes met. There was something different about the look in reflected in Tyson’s chocolate orbs, it resembled something that she had only caught glimpses of faintly up till now before he covered it up with something else, something she could read.

“Or maybe, I feel just as much as you do but I’m better at hiding it.”

His voice was below a whisper but she heard him loud and clear, and this time he didn’t rush to hide the emotions in his eyes, instead he displayed it so strongly that it would be impossible for her to miss.

“Oh.”

Was all she could murmur, once the intensity of his gaze and the meaning behind it registered in her mind. Maybe her mother had been right along, maybe she should have asked Tyson all those questions to his face and he would have given her the answer she had been so desperate to arrive at with just one look. The same look that was always reflected in her own eyes every time she gazed up at him, and yet she had failed to recognize it when it had been directed at her.

And she had called him oblivious, when really the only one who had been oblivious all along was her.

“Yeah. Oh.” He smirked.

As he spoke he rubbed his nose lightly against hers and Hilary gritted her teeth together to stop a whimper from escaping her lips as the sensation of his touch sent mini jolts of shock throughout her body.

His smirk grew wider, and it awoke a tinge of annoyance in her.

“Well I’m surprised that you’d feel that way about such a usual girl like me.”

Hilary triumphed as his smirk faltered and he blinked in confusion, trying to put two and two together. Knowing Tyson, she knew they’d be here a while, but she decided she wouldn’t nudge him in the right direction just yet. She hadn’t gotten enough of his arms holding onto her like she was the only thing mattered. There were a few other things she was enjoying, like when she snaked a hand from his neck into his hair, he gulped loudly and she could feel his heart beat faster against her chest. She could even smell the champagne from before off of him, and when her eyes dropped to his lips, she thought if she were to press her own against his, she would be greeted with the taste of the bitter beverage that she usually avoided, but wouldn’t mind tasting it in this way.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

His confused words broke her train of thought and Hilary quickly averted her gaze back to his eyes, narrowing her own at him out of irritation.

“When you came to pick me up today, I asked you how I look,” Hilary began, searching his face for comprehension which didn’t arrive so she continued, exasperatedly, “and you said ‘the usual.’ Not pretty, or beautiful, or wow, the usual. You said the usual.” She repeated his words to him with vigour, just to make sure that he would understand what she was trying to get at. It was excruciating for her to watch Tyson’s face as he gradually recalled the conversation from earlier, finally breaking into a grin, which irritated her even more, enough to want to pull away from his comfortable embrace, but his grip on her was tighter than she had expected and he didn’t seem to want to let go.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he said, the sincerity in his voice made her stop her efforts from trying to wiggle out of his hold and peer at him curiously instead, his grin was more of a smile as he continued, “I spoke without thinking the sentence through.”

She rolled her eyes.

“What I should’ve explained is that even under usual circumstances, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. That fact doesn’t change for me when you’re dressed up or when you’re not. You’re usually, always so beautiful.”

Hilary felt every inch of her body turn a bright shade of red as his words sunk in.

Tyson took one look at her bewildered expression and lifted his head and threw it back as he laughed more loudly than ever.

“That’s why you didn’t talk to me the entire ride here?” He asked, his eyes shining from laughing so hard.

“Well, yes!” She replied, flustered by the stupidity of her whole dilemma, she immediately buried her head into his chest, lightly punching his shoulder as he continued to shake with laughter. She reminded herself that he was the stupid one, not her, nobody in their right mind gave out compliments like this, “You’re such an idiot, Tyson.”

“An idiot who you wanted to kiss just a few minutes ago.”

So he really didn’t miss a thing.

She lifted her head from his chest and stared directly into his eyes challengingly.

“And? Is the idiot going to kiss me or is my face still out of his reach?”

#beyblade #takao kinomiya #hiromi tachibana #tyhil #beyblade fanfiction #writealot #i know people don't really read tyhil fanfics on here #but still here it is #i loved writing it so you must love reading this

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shaekingshitup · 5 years ago

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unintended part two

A/N: ALRIGHTY FOLKS! WE ARE BACK WITH SOME MORE ACTION FOR MR. JACKSON! As of now, the face claim for the reader is going to be Keke Palmer

But, if you’re anything like me. All I did was just post a picture of someone who wishes they were you and in this fic with you and Trevor Jackson haha. Whatever floats your boats friends. Please note that echoic memory is a real thing. It just doesn’t work how I described it haha. More like echoic and As always thanks to @glittermakesmesmile for giving me the first feedback and confidence to even post these things. Also big shout out to @twistedcharismaaa who helped me challenge myself to write more even if I don’t feel like it. So, this series will hopefully get some more chapters coming soon!

WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

Pairing: Trevor Jackson x Black OC

Warnings: NONE

Word Count: approx 2500

HERE WE GO!

^ Jayden’s Song Association Fit

-----------------------------------------------

“Let me take my Black ass to the restroom while we got ourselfs a break. ROCKSY, what’s that cam’ra lookin’ like? We need another battery?”

“We’re good. Jayden, you want a snack?” Roxy redirected at their latest arrival. Jayden tried to sneak a look at the biggest one in the room and failed. He smiled at her. Her glance had caught both of them off guard and it made him feel giddy. It was the most beautiful and natural response she'd received from him-or anyone for that matter- in a while.

“I’m good.” she said hiding her own bashfulness behind her steely exterior. She maintained eye contact with Trevor. Roxy opened up a cabinet to pull out an assortment of Lays and refill the chip bowls that Trevor had demolished when he’d shown up

“ Imma keep tryin. Venmo? Paypal? Zelle? CashApp? Damn, I can get it to you in Bitcoin if that’s what you prefer.”

“How have you done on the game so far?” Jayden again completely ignored his attempts to repay her. She wasn’t concerned about a few extra dollars.

“I’m doin alright so far." He also refused to break contact first "So far Song Association has been the easiest game for me to navigate today.” Jayden blinked and conceded for now. Motivated by his win Trevor strolled over to the living room where she was admiring some of Terrell’s music selection.

“Clever.” she tossed over her shoulder as she reached for a vinyl. In one swift motion, Trevor had taken it from her mid-review.

“Al Green?” He smirked. “ You’ve got taste J. Let me guess.. uh, track 5?”

“What?”

“That’s your single. I see it. No worries though. We can work on that.” he said just as he caught a glimpse of Terrell returning back into the room. Trevor placed the album back in her hands and returned to his stool, readjusting his mic.

“Alright, Mr. Jackson. YA READY?! No more stoppin’ this midnight train to Georgia.” Terrell hollered. Jayden giggled at his silliness as she glanced at the tracklist for Al Green’s Greatest Hits.

Track 5: Tired of Being Alone

Damn he cocky. Jayden thought. At least it wasn’t in an overbearing manner. It was a little endearing. He seems a little goofy. That smile was very telling. But she wouldn’t show that just yet. Sitting back in her audience of one, Jayden watched them continue to play.

“If I gave you the word “Never” what hits your mind?” Terrell asked the singer. Trevor starts going into a Jackson 5 single that Jayden honestly didn’t know. But, she knows that he is DOING IT. Her eyes go wide as his Michael impression is spot on and before she can even register her own body's movements, she's vibing with it. Music always had a way of helping her with her emotions and channeling a less.. “feisty”,as it had been put earlier, connection with herself and the rest of the world. She was moving around in her seat and doing her best not to spill her coffee over herself or her new friend’s floor.

"Oh shit!" she said clamping her hand over her mouth immediately. That was louder than she expected. Especially since it hadn't meant to leave her head at all. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"AHA HA" Roxy guffawed. "I tried to warn you. Don't worry Jayden. We'll fix it in post anyways"

"Jayden you good girl. I had the same reACTion the first time I laid my eyes- I meant my ears on Trevor" Terrell stated taking a very pointed sip from his mug. Everyone knew he'd meant what he'd said the first time and it was causing them all to try not to break into laughter so they could push forward.

"Yeah. Very natural response J. Hakuna matata" Trevor confirmed. Jayden playfully rolled her eyes.

"What's the next word? He's a lil too comfortable" she spoke up.

Terrell nodded at Jayden and refocused on Trevor. "WAY. w-a-y"

Without hesitation, he bursted into song. It was another that Jayden was sadly unfamiliar with.

What is in this man's repertoire?

Soon enough Terrell explained that it was an original off of a project called Rough Drafts 2. At once Jayden grabbed her phone and opened her Spotify app. Creating a new playlist, she glanced up at the boys and locking in on Trevor she came up with an idea. "Thotful n Tired 💭" she titled it. She was adding damn near his whole discography when her ears perked up at the fact that he had an additional 200 unreleased singles on his computer at home. The more time spent in his presence the more the question of "Who the hell is this nigga?" rose in Jayden's mind.

Trevor responded to Terrell all the while staring at Jayden and answering her unspoken question as well.

"So any fans that live in L.A. and you wanna just come and listen to new music not recorded.." he trailed off leaving an open invitation for Jayden and the rest of LA.

He really just said: Come find out

------------------

Jayden was both relieved and saddened when Trevor was finished with his Song Association. In a very short time, she'd learned a lot about this person she'd never even heard of until that afternoon. As his song had promised, he truly had her beggin for more. The way they interacted and the feelings she felt towards him had grown quickly but it was familiar. It seemed as if they'd already done this dance before. Jayden was trying to figure out how to rationalize this to herself but she couldn't. It was the way that she and Trevor had silently held private conversations in a room with others. Even as they were learning one another, a lot of the pieces already seemed to be connected.

Trevor was filming his spot for Terrell’s outro. It took every ounce of restraint in Jayden not to cackle out loud when he said “I think we’re gonna queue the rain right now. Mm hmm. You feel that? This is not a joke. It’s a motion in your ocean.”

Trevor had made her feel a range of emotions in their time together. Jayden had laughed, she’d pondered a topic or two she’d never fully considered, she’d felt sexy and above all else- she felt noticed. Truly seen. It was a lot. But, the girl was a hustler by nature. So, she was keeping up with each curveball that day had thrown at her.

“Imma run to the restroom” Jayden announced. She wasn’t certain why she felt the need to do so. But it seemed far more courteous than roaming through Terrell’s halls.

“Alright we gotta get ready for you when ya done Miss Jayden!” Terrell called out.

When she returned, there was no Trevor in sight. Just Roxy and Terrell. Jayden wasn’t disappointed for them being there. Although she was a little put off that Trevor had exited so quickly and without saying goodbye? She wasn’t about to let that show though. Sure, she really thought she’d felt a connection with him. But, she wasn’t going to let it get in the way of the single calendar event of her year- outside of her birthweek of course.

“My turn?” Jayden asked as she returned back into the kitchen where the green screen was.

“Mmmhhmm” Terrell affirmed “I just gotta follow you to this res’room. I dun broke my damn seal. Plus, we waitin on Trevuh to finish his call.” As if he heard his queue, the front door opened and Trevor came back in.

“Oh.” Jayden let out. Trevor studied her as Terrell turned towards his restroom. Roxy was on the balcony getting some air and making a call of her own.

She was feening her cool, unbothered mask. But that one syllable had given her away. “What? You thought I left?” he asked.

“I mean you were gone. So, yeah.” Jayden said shrugging her shoulders and throwing her wrist back dismissively.

“Huh.” Trevor stared back quizzically. “I can’t do that just yet. One: I don’t think it’s fair that you got to see mine and I don’t get to see yours and two: I still need to figure out a way to make sure we’re even.”

“Ahh. So you’re stayin?”

“I got a little extra time. Plus, this is definitely worth it. But look, promise me something real quick.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Since you’re so gung-ho on not taking back the money which is owed to you. Let me pay my debt another way.”

“What if I like the notion of Trevor Jackson being forever indebted to me?” The smolder he returned to her made her feel that someone had pressed play on Puddles again. But she simply crossed her arms and cocked her head at him. They were in yet another staring contest.

Trevor let a beat pass as he wound up his pitch in his mind. “Aight, how about-

“Okay. I hope ya’ll enjoyed.. Ya break,” Terrell trailed off as he walked in on the tension that occupied the room. Jayden took a small step back from Trevor. She hadn’t realized that they were all in each other's personal space.

“Yup. I’m ready.” Roxy re-entered from the balcony and grabbed the mic Trevor had used earlier that day to affix to Jayden. “Feel okay?”

“It does.” Jayden said. All of a sudden all of that calm she’d felt left her. She was getting the nerves again. She wasn’t certain if it was because of the game she was going to play or the one she’d been entangled in since she’d laid eyes on Trevor. He himself was still trying to figure out this woman. She had a hard exterior and a beguiling sexual energy that he couldn’t detach himself from. When she sat on that stool allowing Terrell to compliment her outfit and introduce herself a little bit, she radiated. She also had a pretty good voice too for a Shits and Giggles winner.

“I’m mad at you” Terrell said.

“Why?” Jayden

“I hear it. I hear that there in ya throat box. You got them vocals.” Terrell said. “Why you hidin?”

“Ohmygod. Hush. I can hold a tune here and there. But I don’t know about them vocals. I don’t know how to control it.”

Terrell squinted his eyes. “I don’t believe it. Sing that song again. Because you got the emotion. I can tell you feel these songs here. You haf’way there but you too worried about sounded perfect. Let that go.”

Jayden was quick to adapt. She took that advice from Terrell and moments later you could hear the difference. Closing her eyes she tried again

Have you ever found the one

You've dreamed of all of your life

Do just about anything to look into their eyes

Have you finally found the one you've given your heart to

Jayden tried her best not to get into her head about fucking up and pushed the nervousness down within her. Because when she became tense it would lock up her voice and she would miss her mark altogether

Only to find that one won't give their heart to you

She exhaled from her nose and smiled because she’d clearly sounded better than the first time

Have you ever closed your eyes and

Dreamed that they were there

Jayden opened her eyes and stopped. She may not have control; but, she knew her limit

“Now I know you didn’t stop.” Jayden picked up some of the liquid courage Terrell had fixed her. Her coffee was long gone by this point. She couldn’t keep the fear at bay. She didn’t want to make that big of a fool of herself today and have her voice crack like a pre-pubescent teen.

Trevor was taking it all in. She was a whole party when put on the spot and she easily gave off a coolness that made you certain to never cross her. She was not one to be played with. But it was obvious that music opened up another avenue to Jayden. Trevor had seen it when their roles were reversed. She was empathetic to the emotions of whichever song he sang.

Her music taste was eclectic as well. She’d come through with country, gospel, r&b, showtunes and she seemed to have every Chicago rapper’s discography down pat. Trevor was genuinely impressed by her ability to copy and paste an artist’s essence into her own. She was fucking up the game and had songs for every word Terrell threw her way.

“RIGHT R-I-G-H-T” Terrell announced. Jayden glanced a look at Trevor and then she gave her undivided attention to Terrell.

Just stand right here

Let me show you what I'm about

To do to that body

And come down here

Let me show you where to touch my body

Let the foreplay begiiiin

Bet you never had this before

Cause once I go iiiiiiin

I'm gone have you begging for more

Boy, I'm talking right now, right now, right now, yeah

Right now, oh

Can we make some love right now?

Jayden laughed and when she’d finished, there was silence. It was like someone had pressed the mute button in real life. Then the room erupted with noise at once

“UH UH”

“hOw?”

“Whoa whoa whoa” all crashed on top of each other.

“What?” Jayden asked.

“WHAT?! This heffa really just said WHAT? TUH!” Terrell hollered.

“Wait. You said you’d never heard of Trevor before,” said a very baffled Roxy.

“Before a few hours ago, no. I hadn’t.” Roxy said. Jayden gave a shrug in Trevor’s direction.

“But you just sang his song?” Roxy asked

“Yeah. Because I heard him sing it earlier.

“You mean to tell me, that you heard this negro sang that song one time half an hour ago and you committed it to your memory?”

“Yes. I have perfect echoic memory. Obviously I don’t always process this in a way where I can duplicate it perfectly. But, I can mimic it pretty close.”

Trevor finally spoke up. “So when you hear something you can pull up that audio in your mind and not only play it back for yourself but you’ve trained yourself to be able to mimic it almost dead ass spot on?”

“Yeah. That’s pretty much it.” Jayden said as if she’d just read rattled off the day’s weather report. “You’re pretty sharp.” The compliment rolled off of Trevor in his astonished state of mind. Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket. “Damn” he muttered looking at the screen. “Aite y’all, that’s my cue.” I gotta head out. Just as his mother had done, Trevor said goodbye to everyone individually. He saved Jayden for last. “Good luck Jayden. It was nice meeting you. Matter of fact, let me get your info so I can follow up with you to see if you really get that perfect score” He offered his phone out to her with the keypad pulled up.

“Oh, you already know that I came to win today.” she tapped some buttons and gave him back his phone. Looking down, Trevor realized that she’d followed herself on his Instagram account. She smiled but her eyes only said one word:

Checkmate.

---

TAG LIST: @twistedcharismaaa @mygirlrenee @glittermakesmesmile @sarcastic-sunshines @chaneajoyyy @shewrites02 @ghostfacekill-monger @raysunshine78 @shewritestheblues @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @fd-writes @eyeknowmywrites @thadelightfulone @yoyolovesbucky

Imma update my tag list and this fic soon y’all. Hold me to it.

#shaekingspeaks #trevor jackson #black oc #trevor jackson x oc #fics n shit #Terrell Grice #song association

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r00en · 5 years ago

Text

Still Good-Chapter 6

Some new decisions are made about class 1-A and the newest support hero's role on campus and spur of the moment decision put All Might in a rather comfortable position.

All Might / Reader - Slight Aizawa / Reader

The one were they almost kiss and I blue ball your heart for ANOTHER DAY! Maybe in chapter 6...

"Grandmother said it's in the schools best intrest if she still stays the face of the nursing staff here at UA. It's not like I'm a secret or anything, I'm officially employed as a school nurse but her and Mr. Principle decided it was for the best if I stick to taking care of the first years for now. They will need the most help after all but I can't help but think it's something more...something they arn't telling me." Toshi twitched in his seat as he listened to his young friend chatter on about today's meeting. She offered to spend time with him in the teachers office while he finished up some paperwork and put together scripts for the passing new students. Forty in total seemed like it was asking a lot but All Might was thrilled to help out in any way he could. But that keen mind of her's was starting to dip into secrets even he wasn't ready to divulge just yet and that thought worried him. Just as much as lying by omission did. It would be far easier to just tell her everything but just ask risky.

She was leaning back far in one of the chairs and spinning in a slow lazy circle. Bored, but she insisted on being with him and he wasn't about to argue. A pen was caught between her nose and upper lip as she pouted. "I really wanted to see the third years in action though! Be on the front lines with their recovery after training would give me all sorts of incite on their quirks and development. I feel like I'm being assigned to put band aids on toddlers...."

"That's not necessarily the case. With Recovery Girl getting older it's far harder for her to keep up with the younger less experienced students. They are often the one's getting hurt and badly since they don't have a full handle of their quirk or it's full capabilities. This is the first year they really push themselves and their powers so they are bound to get hurt more than the older students. Besides lots of third years spend time at work study so they won't be around as much. It's just as much to help Recovery Girl as it is to get you and your powers where we need them most." Toshi thought those were wise enough words and by the embarrassed look on her face they worked. She was grinning with both hands pressed to her puffy cheeks trying her best not to wiggling in her chair. "If that's the case then I'll be working non-stop this year on some of the biggest cases! Not that I want them to be hurt....Mmm maybe that came out wrong....I want to be useful here! I don't want to sit around filing papers all day. I'm a pro hero after all, if I'm working what else am I good for!?"

Lots of things, Toshi found himself muttering deep under his breath as he turned back around to check another script. Just being in a room with him was more than enough. She could spend the rest of her days just sending good morning texts to him and he would be content but that little spit fire spirit and her desperate need to help in any way she could was one of the reasons he fell for her after all. The thought had him blushing and thankfully she was too busy watching the replaying of the exam to pay him any mind. "Ah! Midoriya! I didn't get a chance to see his review myself....I can see now how he managed to get himself in such bad shape. That poor boy...." Her voice was so soft when ever she spoke about a tender subject like this. Watching someone get hurt wasn't her favorite activity and he worried about what this next year was going to bring. His young successor barely had a grasp on One for All, there was no way he could escape more injury. Toshi glanced down at the small holo pad with his students name on it, a feeling of pride swelling in his chest. It would be fine, she was looking after him now too. The both of them would keep Midoriya safe and healthy no doubt. If only he could tell her....maybe just a mild hint of some kind..."There was something I wanted to-"

"Already over working yourself All Might? Figured they would have you do those acceptance videos...."

The both of them spun around at the sudden out burst.

"Aizawa!"

"Mr.Aizawa!"

He pale hand reached out and plop down right on her head the second he was within range. "Hey kid. Didn't think he would rope you into helping him so soon. Classes haven't even officially started yet." Kid. That was his nickname for her...something they shared together and Aizawa using it made his blood boil a bit forcing Toshi to turn back around in a mild huff.

"....I'm older than you...."

Her voice sounded annoyed. What happened to liking 'kid' as a nickname? Didn't it make her feel younger? Was it something she only liked to hear from him? His boney fingers crumpled some of the paperwork he had picked up as a rush of joy flooded his chest. She only let him do that! It shouldn't have been the biggest deal but that little venom in her tone as Aizawa's hand fell away from her head had him grinning from ear to ear. "What are you doing here anyway Mr.Aizawa? Classes don't start for another two weeks." The dark man shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets with a bit of a grumble. "Wanted to finish up some final paperwork, I was meeting Mic here so it was just logical to get it all done at once. Even if it is a bother. I'm guessing All Might really did rope you into helping him with his acceptance videos after all then?"

There was a pause in conversation, as if she was trying to think of the correct thing Aizawa wanted to hear. She always seemed to struggle in talking to him and Toshi had to admit he was a hard person to get along with. "Not really. Grandmother and Mr.Principal had a few things to go over with me anyway and I offered to keep Toshinori company while he worked. Not like I have anything better to do. Plus he offered to take me out for something to eat after all this hard work...even if he's the only one doing it..."

"Did he now....."

Toshi could feel that cold energy emanating from Aizawa as well as his eyes drilling holes into his poor back. That was gonna come back on him for sure. Spinning back around in his chair and trying his best not to sound defensive Toshi waved a hand at his fellow staff members. "It's no big deal really. We both take the same train home, and since she's so new to the area I'm trying to help her find places she enjoys close by. It's hard for foreigners after all." Frame it like a kind, friendly thing to do. Super normal. Not strange at all. He wasn’t pinning after a younger coworker and using this as a poor excuse to spend more time with her alone. Together. Like a day. Damn it that was creepy! Aizawa just gave a soft hum and kept his narrow eyes on his fellow teacher. Toshi prayed to any god at all that Aizawa would leave it at that and not ask to join them, he didn't need a repeat of the coffee shop and he was really looking forward to going to out eat with her alone...like a date. He was going on a date! Aizawa didn't need to be there.

Turning back to him she smiled happily waved her arms. "We are going to that ramen shop right? The one you talked about yesterday? All the photos you send me looked so good I can't wait to try them! Plus that really really cool ordering system makes me feel a lot better about trying to order something more complex. If I just need to circle what I want I don't need to pronounce anything and show off my horrible Japanese...." She was always so cute when she was semi self degrading. It always gave him a chance to compliment her and watch her get all warm and flustered. He would have done it here too if it wasn't for a certain looming shadow. "You should work on your Japanese more kid.” “H-hey!” “These kids won't go easy on you if you make formal mistakes you know." That earned him a little glare. "Older than you!" Aizawa shrugged and spun on his heels. "What ever. I need to meet up with Mic anyway. Don't over work the nurse All Might. If she's going to be working with first years she'll have her work cut out for her and she doesn't need you bothering her all the time."

All Might gave a mighty sigh as he watched the man lumber down the hallways and out of sight. He may have had a point, thought all her company and friendly assistance was given freely he still felt bad for taking up so much of her time. If either of them had work to do they often did so together in the teachers office. Taking twice as long as they would stop and just chat away until one of them noticed the time. Help with writing a hard word would suddenly turn into a full blown lesson which often left both of them chuckling and coming up with silly English phrases that made no sense in Japanese. She would ask him to tell her lesser known stories about his time in the states and he would want to hear about major areas and how they were doing since his last visit. A few times now they both got out far too late and had to share a taxi home. Sitting so close in the back seat of a car he could feel the warmth of her body against his. His long legs cramped up against the seat forcing him closer to her...Toshi sputtered a bit and cleared his throat trying to set his mind back to the work in front of him.

"I'm sorry....maybe Aizawa is right." His heart sank and Toshi found himself flipping around to try and correct her but the sad look on her face caught his voice in his chest which tightened with worry. "I must be taking up so much of your time....you're THE All Might and you keep going out of your way to try and help me with such silly things. It must be bothersome." He watched as she tucked some hair behind her ear and did everything she could not to look at him. Focused more on her hands that sat in her lap gripping lightly at her work skirt.

Not at all. She could never bother him! His hands moved before his mind had a chance to stop him and he found himself holding her's tightly in his own. "That couldn't be farther from the truth." They both stared, in a slightly stunned silence for a moment. Him for having been so bold as to reach for her, and her for having him act so suddenly. But she didn't pull away and he took that as his que to keep going. Be honest, even just a bit. "Ever since this all happened...my injury, coming to teach here at UA...no one has treated me the way you do. I'm not 'The All Might' to you...I'm Toshinori Yagi. I can talk to you in a way I haven't been able to talk to anyone in years. You don't look at me with sadness or pity. I never realized how much I needed that until I met you." His hands started to shake as if he was going to lose his nerve any second but her wide shining eyes pushing him to keep going. Hopeful at his confession. "I-I don't...this is strange. I've never found myself at a loss for words before, I guess that's the point...I don't need to be All Might around you and I'm learning how to be Toshinori Yagi all over again. It's not really something I was prepared to do coming to this school but I can't say I'm unhappy about it."

One of her hands slipped away from his and for a moment Toshi felt his heart drop in fear, but when it came to rest against his hollow cheek he feared it would start beating out of his chest. Carefully she forced his face up to meet her gaze. That damn smile returned and he couldn't help but smile back. They sat there for a few seconds and he swore they were inching closer, closer....closer until he could feel her breath against his face. If he did this it would change everything between them. Was he moving to fast? Did she want this too? Was this her accepting and returning his unsure feelings? He swallowed hard and tilted his head ever so slightly. He would do this here and now!

"A phone call is HERE! A phone call is HERE! A phone call is HERE!"

Both of them jumped apart so suddenly Toshi could feel the chair under him rock with the drastic movement. Glacing back at her he found she was at least ten different shades of red, steam visibly rising off her with the heat of her embarrassment as she tried to hid her cheeks under her palms. He wanted to toss his phone out the widow, take hold of her hands again and kiss her with all the passion he believed he would have just seconds ago. Instead he snatched his phone from his desk and glared daggers down at the ID. It was Young Miydoriya. Truth be told he hand't contacted the boy since after the exam. He wanted to see first hand how this new nurse would treat his student and he was not left wanting at her tender bedside manner if not stern words of wisdom. Toshi ran his fingers through his hair and let out a sigh. It would be better to just wait until he received his acceptance. Flashier that way. More All Might. Snapping the phone shut he found himself glued to the spot. What did he say now? How did one face someone they were so ready to kiss just seconds before? Her tiny, trembling voice broke though the otherwise quiet office and Toshi flinched at the tone of it.

"Um...it's getting kind of late..." It was. He hadn't noticed before but the sky was started to glow orange and cast long dark shadows through the widows. She wanted to leave. Run away from this awkward tension that was winding itself around the both of them. Not that he could blame her. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe it was a sudden delusion he forced upon himself and they were really feet apart and he looked like an idiot about to kiss thin air. Damn it he didn't even know HOW to kiss what was he thinking forcing something like that on a sweet, beautiful, talented YOUNG girl like her?!

"We should if we want to get there before they close right?" Toshi swung around in his seat starting wide eyed at her as she moved to start gathering her work together and collect her things. "Besides I'm starving! I didn't think we would be here so late so I didn't pack a heavy lunch. Stupid...we always end up staying later than we expect to. I was thinking of trying the more spicy bowl for my first time...do you have any flavors you like? Wonder if they would let me try more than one...." She was rambling, a sign she was nervous but she still wanted to go out to eat. Still wanted to be around him. This wasn't some kind of crazy mistake. Steeling her nerves he shot her his own nervous smile and stood up following her lead. "I hear the chicken is really good so I figured I would try that one this time around. Will be easier on my stomach after all." They both laughed before settling into a relaxed silence only meeting up again at the door as they turned off the lights to the office. He jumped a bit as he flet her fingers tug lightly at his yellow sleeve, flashing him a grin. "Come on, I'll treat you this time."

No. This wasn't a mistake. It was clumsy, awkward and nerve-wracking but this feeling that swelled in his chest and made him feel weightless, his heart clawing it's what up this throat, the nervous laughing and shy conversation, and that damn smile. This was right. No matter how long it took to get here and how many dark shadows lingered in the background this was one thing All Might would stumble and fight for. With a tight grip on his arm she tugged him forward with a cheery laugh, both of them settling back into their comfortable mood. There was no where Toshi wanted to be more than here in this very moment.

#All Might #All Might/Reader #All Might x Reader #Aizawa #aizawa/reader #fanfiction #mha #my hero acadamy

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starblazerm31 · 5 years ago

Note

37. Accidental kiss 💋 for Asra and MC pre plague :3 plz

Here you go my dear, I hope you enjoy it!

I’m still up for writing a few more of these, so hit me up! Might even do a couple for my MC/OC! Prompt list here.

As usual, fic below the cut!

Ko-Fi ☕

It was mid-day, and my shop was empty. That wasn’t a surprise; the festival going on in town square pretty much assured that today would be slow. I wasn’t worried about the lack of customers, though. I had filled some rather expensive orders for one of my regulars the day before yesterday and that meant that I could afford the repairs that the shop needed, plus put food in my belly for a little while. In fact, when I closed I intended to head to the marketplace to give Selasi a bit of business plus grouse about the festival. It wasn’t one of my favorite holidays; some silly thing Count Lucio came up with to honor yet another one of his favorite pets.

The man would do so much better if he just opened up a zoo for all of the animals he had. Let the kingdom share in the beauty. But no, he hoarded it all to himself while the people paid for it.

The only sound in the shop was my breathing as well as the cloth I rubbed the glass countertop with. So the sudden knock at the door sent my heart straight into my throat. I took a moment to still my heavy breathing before placing the cloth down and heading to the door to open it. On automatic, I said “Welcome to-”

I was greeted by the shy smile of Asra.

“Hello, MC,” he said.

I gave him my brightest smile. I always loved his visits.

“Hello, Asra! Come in!” I moved to the side so he could enter. "How are you? Enjoying the festival?“

Asra chuckled. "I set up my tent with the other vendors in the square and made some money. That’s about all the enjoying I did.”

I laughed. "Well, a festival celebrating turtle doves isn’t exactly my idea of a great party.“ I closed the door with a sound click.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done so many love readings in my life,” Asra said, running his tan hands through his fluffy white hair. "And it figures; love readings aren’t my strong point. I had to fake some of it.“

I nudged him in the arm. "But you’re an artist at faking,” I said. "Were your customers happy?“

"Of course.”

“Well, there you go.”

Asra laughed. "You’re right, MC.“ He looked around. "Slow day?”

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. The boredom isn’t so bad; I just keep myself busy.“

"I can tell,” he said. "The shop looks so clean. And is that Dragon’s Blood you’re burning?“

I beamed. "It is! My aunt always said that a clean workspace enhances concentration, protects against evil, and attracts good vibes and customers. And Dragon’s Blood makes sure you’re never low on power.”

I stood behind the counter and put my cleaning cloth away. Asra leaned forward, resting his elbows on the glass surface.

“And it must work; I felt the strongest urge to pay you a visit today.”

His lavender eyes sparkled through his white lashes. I felt my face flush slightly.“So is this visit business or pleasure?” I asked, weaving my fingers together.

“Can’t it be both?”

Now my ears were burning. "Of course.“ I stood up straight. "I got an order of crystals in yesterday, would you like to see them? They aren’t charged; they’re specifically for my practitioner clients.”

Asra brightened up. "Your so gifted,“ he said. "How did you know that I came to you for exactly that?”

I felt a fit of giddy giggles well up from my core. "As you say, I’m gifted.“ I gave him a wink and went into the back, grabbed the basket full of gleaming crystals, and set it on the counter for him to inspect. He picked up a few and held them up to the light.

I couldn’t help but marvel at him for a moment. Ever since I met him at the Masquerade, he had been there, in the back of my thoughts. I recalled the way he weaved his magic for onlookers, how etherial he looked. How when I approached his tent, he extended a small crystal ball and asked if I would like a glimpse into my future. I remembered how his crystal ball rolled around his fingers, up his arm, around his shoulders, down his other arm, and into his outstretched palm. And I remembered his eyes peeking right above the crystal in my field of view. He was beautiful.

"These are perfect,” he commented. "How did you come across them?“

I gave him a coy look. "A good magician never reveals their secrets.”

Asra returned my coy look, only with a hint of slyness. He reminded me of a snow fox. "What if I shared some of my secrets with you?“

I looked thoughtful for a moment. "Perhaps. What secrets can you share?”

His eyes narrowed with the most alluring smile I had ever seen. "All kinds.“

We stared at each other for a moment; I could feel the heat in my entire face. I reached down and picked up a glittering blue crystal.

"Well, this one came from a traveling merchant who had just gotten back from Prakra,” I said, rotating the stone so that the candlelight could shine through its facets. "He thought it was just a pretty rock with no magical properties, so I got it for a good price. If only he knew what he had found.“

Asra leaned in closer. "And what did he find?”

I leaned closer as well, the crystal all that hovered in between us. "This one can radiate healing energy if you charge it on a rainy night under a new moon. It would be an amazing tool for a healer or doctor.“

I stood up and turned to reach for a potion. "And if you-” When I turned back around, my elbow caught the edge of the basket and tipped it off of the counter, causing all of the glittering crystals to scatter on the floor. My cheeks shone with embarrassment.

“Oh my…”

Asra immediately bent down. "It’s alright, MC, I can get them.“

"No, no, I can’t let you clean up my mess. Here…” I rushed around the counter and bent down next to him, my hands clumsily snatching up crystals left and right and piling them back into the basket. I reached for a crystal that had landed a few feet from the counter and turned to put it in the basket; but it fell from my fingertips as when I turned to reach for the basket, I found my lips fully connected to Asra’s. His face shone with a deep blush, as I knew mine did as well. He moved backward quickly.

“I am so sorry, MC, I didn’t mean-”

“I’m sorry, Asra, I didn’t know I had moved so close-”

“Not that I’m upset, it was lovely-”

“You have very soft-”

We paused for a moment, staring at each other awkwardly. Then we both burst out laughing.

“Here, there’s only a few left,” Asra said, picking up the last of the crystals and putting them back into the basket. I took it from him and placed it back on the countertop.

I wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes and Asra offered me his hand to help me back to my feet. From down the street, we could hear sudden cheers.Asra cleared his throat. "Looks like I might have another string of customers,“ he said. He looked to the basket and then back to me.

"If I buy all of them, can I see you again when you close the shop?”

I smiled serenely. "You can see me whether you buy them or not.“

His face lit up like the moon. "Great!!”

He smiled at me for a moment; he looked like he could walk on water. Before I knew it, my hands had reached out to him and pulled him close by the shoulders. I placed a gentle lingering kiss on his lips.

“I can’t wait,” I said, once parting.

His eyes looked heavy. "Neither can I.“

He snatched up the crystals and put them in a bag, replacing them with a satchel of coins. He turned and headed towards the door. He gave me one last stunning smile before slipping soundlessly outside.

#the arcana writing prompts #accidental kiss #the arcana #the arcana asra #asra x mc #asra x apprentice #starblazerm31 fics

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mollymauk-teafleak · 5 years ago

Text

I will love you if I never see you again (chapter three)

Look...I’m sorry. I’m just sorry.

Huge thanks to my beta readers, @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian, sorry I made you both cry at work, love you

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment on Ao3, it really makes my day!

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

----

Juno was exhausted, down to the marrow of his bones, but sleep didn’t find him. He didn’t want it to, either.

The apartment was in almost total darkness but for the squares of streetlight that came in through the bared windows, sharp and distorted cut outs of yellow that only put the shadows in sharper relief. One fell right across the top half of Juno’s face, on his remaining eye. He could have got up and drawn the curtains at any time but he didn’t.

He didn’t want to sleep, he wanted to see.

He’d put Bianca’s moses basket on his bed, taking up the half that was really meant for another person but would always just be where he sprawled himself as he tossed and turned through any number of nightmares. He held himself very still, ready to set her down if he started to nod, frightened of pushing her off the bed in his sleep. But sleep didn’t find him.

Juno was too lost in looking at her, focused the way he would focus on his work, a problem to solve that would consume him until it became unhealthy. He couldn’t have looked away even if he’d had a mind to. He just laid awake and watched the rise and fall of her tiny chest inside her sleep suit, watched the play of muscles in her face as she dreamed and shifted in her sleep. His arm was still draped over the edge of the basket from where he’d gotten her to drift off by slowly opening and closing his fingers just above her head and letting her grab for them. Sometimes, when she moved just right, the tips of his long, scarred fingers would brush her tufts of wispy black hair or the powder soft skin of her face. And whenever that would happen, he would feel a tug in his chest he didn’t want to feel.

It was so easy to think that Nureyev had simply woven Bianca from starlight, that he’d stolen her into existence and Juno had never even been part of it. When he told himself that it was easier to breathe. He didn’t feel that numbness in the very edges of himself that signified panic setting in and taking root, that had always made him want to run and put his fists up, ever since he was a kid. It didn’t send a thousand questions running through his mind that he knew he’d never be able to pin down and solve.

It made it easier to know that this was all temporary.

If you didn’t have something, you couldn’t lose it. And Juno had lost so much already.

But whenever he felt her hair under his fingertips and that tug of a connection being pulled, he would become aware of the small part of his mind that was already doing just what he knew he couldn’t do, trying on labels to see how they fit, seeing Bianca in a way that would only cause hurt to everyone.

Which is why he didn’t want to sleep. If he wasn’t keeping a short, careful leash on his mind, who knew what could grow and spread and what it could ruin.

And he was also enjoying watching Bianca sleep.

So Juno stayed still and stayed quiet, keeping his eyes on the sleeping baby, listening to her feather light breathing. And sleep didn’t find him.

“You are in a mood today.”

Bianca answered with a miffed sounding string of nonsense sounds, waving her hands in the air.

“Yeah,” Juno nodded, “You are definitely in a mood.”

He’d ran through all the usual fixes, feeling like Rita hacking the office computer into something it was definitely never meant to be while he’d sit at his desk with his comms and forget how to work the volume again. He’d fed her, he’d changed her, she was fresh from a nap. He’d held her, cuddled her and walked around the living room so many times that he’d probably worn a groove into the floor. It seemed like she was just determined to be fussy this afternoon, squawking for some kind of entertainment but pushing away everything he offered.

He was starting to feel a lot of sympathy for anyone who’d ever had to deal with him when he was in one of his difficult moods.

“Well, there’s a dust storm warning so we can’t go to the park,” Juno drummed his fingers on his cheek as he thought, “And that’s a pretty damn powerful scowl, little lady, but I doubt it can stop a hundred kilometer per hour wind. Fifty, maybe. But not a hundred.”

Bianca made it clear what she thought of that, making a kitten-like yowling sound that Juno amused himself by mimicking back to her. She looked at him in complete and total shock for a second before scowling even harder. Juno pulled the exact same face, scrunching up his broad nose and furrowing his brow exaggeratedly. Bianca didn’t find it as funny as he did.

“Let’s see if we can find a stream for you or something,” Juno eventually sighed after she’d burst into annoyed wails, “I don’t know where the kids channel is but...maybe if I just push some buttons, I don’t know…”

He plonked her down on the sofa, propping her up so she didn’t fall over or roll away in her indignation. He picked up what Rita called his ‘dummy’s remote’ where she’d put clear labels on every single button telling him what it did, after she’d gotten exhausted of his constant questions. He flicked through channels, looking for something that looked vaguely soft and kid friendly, quickly scrambling past several screens full of bursting blood or bare skin, wondering if he should be covering her eyes. He’d never had cause to worry about the moral state of the stream network before but he was starting to see what people were complaining about.

And in the flickering flashes of colour and nonsense, clipped noise Juno suddenly saw familiarity that connected with the blunt force of a punch to the gut.

A tall, powerful woman hefting a sword as tall as she was with ease, speaking with a voice that propelled him backwards to a different time entirely. Suddenly he was sitting cross legged on the fraying, stained carpets that came standard with every house in Oldtown, eyes wide and heart full to bursting, not even hearing the shouting from the other room or feeling his brother tugging on his sleeve or knowing everything around him was falling apart, as long as the screen was still on and he could still hear that voice.

For a few blissful hours, feeling brave. Feeling strong and sure and certain and like he mattered.

Juno went to press the button again, everything too sharp and too real all of a sudden, wanting that woman and that music out of his current moment as quickly as he could. But as soon as he did, the screen changing to show some documentary about the history of dome development, Bianca shrieked in dismay.

Juno turned to look at her, seeing her waving her hands and babbling with clear upset, pedalling her little feet.

“Really?” he groaned, “There’s nothing else you’d want to watch?”

Bianca blew a long, loud raspberry. Even someone who’d only had a baby around for two weeks could see what she was trying to say.

Juno sighed heavily and flicked it back, filling the screen with Andromeda the Chainmail Warrior. Andromeda and the Sea of Sinners, if he was any judge. He knew that soundtrack anywhere, he’d hummed it so many times while scaling the sofa with a collider on his toddler curls, swinging a stick from the park with abandon.

Bianca made a cheery little hooting noise, shoving her fist in her mouth and gumming at it contentedly, happier than she’d been all day. Juno pulled a face, trying to focus on how relievingly content she was, rather than the uncomfortable tightness in his chest at half of his brain still being in his past. He tried to only hear her happy murmurs, her gasps when the screen would fill with colour, and not the long dead voices crowding in his head.

Eventually Juno reached over and cupped the back of her head. He told himself it was to support her better as he noticed her starting to curl in on herself but as soon as he wound his fingers through her airy curls, he felt his heartbeat slow down to a much more comfortable level and the air came into his lungs so much easier. The voices seemed further away, like they were almost back in the past where they belonged. Almost.

Bianca had no complaints, leaning back into his palm, dark eyes still on the screen. She was as hooked as Juno had been the first time he’d heard that voice.

He wondered if she felt brave. If she felt like she could do anything, watching Andromeda fall again and again but still manage to get back up and win with ten minutes of runtime to spare. He wondered if the music made her burst with energy too, if everything she wore would suddenly feel like chainmail, if anything she held would become a sword.

Juno knew he was being facetious. She wasn’t old enough to be thinking any of that stuff, she probably just liked the noise and colour, but it was so hard to see the attentiveness on her little face and not think of the toddler he’d been, equally as swept up in the bliss of it all.

But Juno didn’t want it to be as temporary for her as it had been for him. His joy had been so short lived, life had quickly squared up to show him how powerless he really was, how it had all been a silly daydream, how no fantasy could protect him.

He wanted Bianca to feel strong all the time. He wanted her to know she was brave and true and that nothing could harm her. He wanted it to be real for her, in the way it never had been for him. He wanted her to win.

And he knew he would do anything to make it happen.

Juno sighed softly and ran his thumb across the crown of her head. Was this what it was? To want the world to be so much better for them than it had ever been for you? To be willing to break your fingers reshaping it all for their sake?

Was it supposed to hurt? Was it supposed to terrify you?

Juno felt every single day go past. At first, it had been like carving a tally into a prison wall, just trying to survive every one.

Now he wasn’t sure. But he certainly felt it still.

He jumped at every single shadow he saw from the corner of his eye. Every time he walked back into the apartment with an armful of groceries and Bianca on his hip, his heart stayed in his throat until he could turn the light on and see an empty sofa. Any footstep he couldn’t immediately place or scrape at the door set his teeth on edge. And as the weeks turned into a month, it only got worse. Even worse that he couldn’t decide whether he was anticipating or dreading, unsure of what emotion would flood him when the sword finally fell.

Juno should have known all his paranoia would never prepare him, that Nureyev would find a way to still make it a shock.

Juno woke up with a head that felt like it was full of cotton wool, shaken from deep sleep and looking for something to hold on to. He sat up, blinking and running his hand through his matted hair, lurching towards the moses basket to check on Bianca, as was habit now.

He didn’t believe what he saw at first, thinking he was still in a nightmare. The blanket was dented, rumbled, moulded to a little body that wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.

Juno was on his feet while his brain was still gaping in horror, moving before he really knew where he was going. A raw and frantic kind of panic he hadn’t felt since the worst day of his life fired through his nerves as he surged forward, throat ready to cry her name.

And then he stopped dead, seeing the silhouette in the living room, outlined in the streetlight glare. Sharp and angular, he would know it anywhere.

Nureyev hadn’t noticed him yet, for all the crashing he’d done. Juno didn’t think he’d have noticed a sandstorm sweeping in through the window, he clearly only had eyes for Bianca. He held her to his chest, speaking softly, lips pressed to her head, clasping her like he was never going to let her go. There was so much love in it, in the way he held her and the gentleness of his tone, that for a second Juno couldn’t breathe.

He hadn’t known love like that could really exist.

He waited to see what he would feel, looking for an emotion he could name. Nothing obliged him.

“Nureyev,” he eventually murmured, scared to shatter the scene before him, like he was seeing something he wasn’t meant to.

Dark eyes turned to his, looking dangerous before he registered him and they smoothed into calm professionalism, like they were at a business meeting that just happened to take place in the middle of the night in a dark room.

“Ah, Juno. My apologies, I never meant to involve you in this but I must have lingered too long.”

Juno blinked, still unsure if he was sleeping or not, “What? You...you were just going to take her? Leave me wondering?”

Nureyev’s expression could only be described as careful, mouth falling open to show his sharp teeth, “Why, Juno, I appreciate your dedication to the favour I asked of you. I would have left a note.”

Juno swallowed hard, taking a few steps forward, “So the...the complications you were dealing with, that’s all over?”

“As if they had never been,” Nureyev answered airily, as if Juno had asked for the time, “My reputation is restored to its usual spotlessness. And so I continue on into the stars, dear detective.”

Juno felt his throat tighten, “Already? You know...you can stick around a bit. Have a drink or whatever.”

Nureyev gave him a long look from behind his neat, cat eye glasses, “I would have thought you’d want her out of your hair.” His voice sounded more clipped now, like he was watching a play go on longer than he’d like.

“Come on, Nureyev,” Juno’s voice heated, “I spent a month with her, you’re going to leave without so much as a thank you?”

“Forgive me, have I committed a faux pas? What wine do you bring to the good lady who promised you his heart then left you not an hour later, with child, and has now reluctantly done the bare minimum while you had to go bloodily clear a path back to anonymity?”

Juno flinched, patience evaporating like water on a hot stove, “Fine. You don’t have to be an ass about it.”

He turned to sulk back to his bed, heart hammering sickeningly, pulsing anger through his veins. But there was a soft, sad sigh behind him.

“Juno,” Nureyev said, voice quiet, “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. It’s been a long night and...and, well, I don’t think I’ve quite forgiven myself for leaving her here. But I am grateful to you.”

Juno turned back, heart straining towards that softer, kinder Nureyev he’d known who had apparently magically reappeared in his darkened living room, “You’re welcome...look, just take a damn seat, would you? You look exhausted, you can rest for an hour at least.”

Nureyev still hesitated, though he was rather outed by the bruise like shadows under his eyes and the way his hands trembled lightly, like holding himself in his usual position was exhausting him. Eventually he took a seat with an expression like he’d have preferred to put a towel down first.

Juno rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen. He’d started actually stocking it in the past few weeks, now when he opened the cupboards and reached in, he actually saw tea and cans, clean mugs and packets rather than spiderwebs, dust and maybe a rat. He picked up two teabags, accepting that he wasn’t going to be getting back to sleep tonight.

“See?” he looked over at Nureyev, clearly assembling the mugs of tea where he could see them, “Not poisoned, you can watch me.”

Nureyev tisked, most of his attention still on Bianca, “Dramatic…”

She’d nodded back to sleep, though her hand was still fastened on the front of Nureyev’s shirt like she would never let go. So gently, Nureyev removed it, pressing a soft kiss to the curled little fingers before easing her into her basket with practised ease, leaving his hands free to take the mug that Juno offered.

“No wine?” Nureyev hummed in a tone that reassured that he was joking, he was clinging to the heat of the tea like a lifeline.

“Nah,” Juno sat as far away as the sofa would allow, “Got rid of the booze after you dropped Bianca off.”

Nureyev stilled, eyes flickering to his and suddenly the distance between them felt like nothing, “I see.”

Feeling awkward, Juno looked away and cleared his throat roughly, “She’s, ah...she’s a good kid.”

“I know,” Nureyev said softly, with all the conviction of a parent, “She looks...well. Thank you, Juno, I do mean it.”

“Like you said,” Juno shrugged, “Bare minimum.”

Instantly, the air between them froze so hard and fast it was a wonder their breath wasn’t visible. Juno cringed internally, cursing himself. Why did he always have to do that? Why was the first word out of his mouth always confrontational, pushing away anyone who got close?

He tried to save himself, adding quickly, “I just mean...I had it easy. You’ve been doing it all on your own since...you know, since then.”

Nureyev sat a little straighter, clearly already building one of his walls, “Well. When I make a decision, I give it my all. There’s no sense in doing it any other way.”

Juno risked a glance over to him, “But this isn’t stealing a mask or robbing a bank or whatever. It’s raising a kid. And you just...you just decided you were going to do it?”

There was a pause, like he was deciding how much to say and how to say it. Juno realised somewhere in the middle of that pause that he had no right to any of this information and was about to take it back when Nureyev spoke, his voice soft and far away.

“I’m a selfish man, Juno. I act purely in my own interest, as you’ve observed. And the decision to keep Bianca was a selfish one, I can’t pretend otherwise. Please don’t think of me any other way.”

Juno felt his hackles rise though at what he couldn’t say, “I’ll think of you how my head tells me to think of you, Nureyev. I think you’re brave and selfless and...and everything you’ve done for Bianca is amazing. Believe me, I know shitty parents and you are not that, you are everything she deserves. She’s lucky. And if you don’t like me thinking that then...well, you’ll just have to deal with it.”

Nureyev looked at him, hands clasping and unclasping, “Detective, I have to say, you are one of the strangest and most perplexing people I have ever met on this and every other planet.”

Juno shrugged, unsure of how else to respond, still working on whether it was a compliment or not, “Well...I just don’t like to see you beating yourself up over nothing. You owe Bee Bee more than agonising over her existence.”

Nureyev’s eyes widened and he sat back, “What...what did you just call my daughter?”

Juno flushed red, “It’s what Rita calls her, shut up, it slipped out.”

Nureyev shook his head, caught between laughter, indignation and bewilderment, “My god…”

“Shut up!”

He spread his hands placatingly, “Fine...and you are right, detective. It is far too late to be second guessing myself. Whatever reasons I had for keeping her, they don’t change what I have to do now which is to make the best life I can for her.”

Juno watched his face set into determination and confidence, as he’d seen it do so many times before, the set in his shoulders and upward tilt of his chin that had told him from the very first time he’d met him that Nureyev could do anything he set his mind to. That he could will things into being, change the shape of the world with sheer conviction and hard work and a clever plan. He would do right by Bianca, Juno knew that. He could continue to be the galaxy’s most notorious thief and would do it with her in tow.

But still, he had to open his stupid mouth.

“All by yourself?”

Nureyev looked at him, really looked at him, with eyes that had seen the stars and yet had still seen him as the most beautiful thing in the universe. Juno was reminded of the night they’d had together, how he had held him and touched him and made him believe in things he’d thought only existed in stories. Moment after moment, like fireworks going off against a dark sky, and Juno had wondered if the goddess he was named for had ever received worship so complete and devoted.

He’d made him think that hope didn’t have to be more pain than it was worth. He wanted to feel that way again.

Acting without thinking, as he’d made a habit of all his life, Juno closed the distance between him and Nureyev and kissed him. Every time before it had been the other way around but this time he kissed him.

It was a heartbeat before Peter’s hands came to rest on the side of his head and tilted him to deepen the kiss, press their mouths together more earnestly. Mirroring their first kiss but with the roles reversed, Juno pushing, Nureyev following, Juno throwing, Nureyev catching.

And he could see it so clearly. He could be Dahlia Rose or pick a new name entirely, as long as it matched with his. He didn’t have to feel the fog inside him any more, he didn’t have to feel like he was pushing a boulder up a hill only to have it roll right back over him but he had to keep going because there was no one else to push. He didn’t have to be what a whole careless, unfeeling city needed him to be. He could be what he chose, he could feel happy as a default and not as a shock. He could be part of a family, father, daughter and mother.

And that was what ruined it. That single word. That word with all it’s bitter memories and bruises that had never really healed and broken promises loomed up over him and stared him down.

And he flinched.

Nureyev felt it and drew away, seeing it written plain as day on Juno’s face. And the walls came up higher and thicker than ever though not fast enough that he missed the heartbreak in his eyes, no less painful for it’s familiarity.

He stood up and turned away, so fast it was like Juno’s skin was burning him suddenly. He pressed his fingers to his temples and bowed his head, “Why...why is it always you, every single time, of all the people in the goddamn universe, why are you the only one who can hurt me…”

Juno winced, “Peter…”

“Don’t!” he snapped, whirling round, “Don’t you dare, Juno Steel!”

Certain things were known to be true. Rain fell downwards, the Sun was the centre of the Solar System and Peter Nureyev did not cry. But there it was, his eyes glassy and shining in the light with fire and unshed tears that were moments away from spilling over. And it sent Juno reeling.

“You know something?” Nureyev stepped forward, looking like his hand could go to the knife at his thigh any moment, “I wanted to call you so many times. Even when I couldn’t leave that goddamn hotel room on Brahma, my hand itched every day to go to my comms and call you and tell you everything. When she was being born and I’d never felt so alone and I thought I was dying, I came two presses of a button from doing it. Because part of me always wondered, always hoped, if I’d told you, if I’d dialled that number burned into my brain and told you I was pregnant would it have made a difference? Would it have changed your mind? And now I know.”

Nureyev wouldn’t let his tears fall but Juno did and they burned on his cheek, “Peter, I’m sorry, but this isn’t fair, you’re angry at me for not wanting something I’m just not ready for…”

“Do you think I was ready?”

His shout filled the small space and then Bianca’s cry shattered the night, piercing and frightened and heartbreaking. Both of them went for her at the same time but Nureyev bared his teeth so fiercely that Juno recoiled instantly. He softened as soon as she was in his arms, curling around her protectively and murmuring softly to soothe her, standing.

“My treasure, it’s okay, everything is fine, I’m here now…I’m sorry, daddy’s sorry...”

Eventually her crying stopped, turning to spluttering as she buried her face against his front like just the smell of his cologne comforted her and allowed those delicate, long fingered hands to hold her. Juno felt a stab of absurd jealousy that made him hate himself even more than he currently did.

Nureyev took a deep breath as soon as Bianca was calm again, it came out as a shudder. And when he looked up, there were no more tears in his eyes.

“I wasn’t ready to be faced with the decision that fell into my lap,” he spoke coldly, like he believed in his words with all his heart because it was the only thing he could do, “But I didn’t get the luxury of pushing it away. And I made my choice, for whatever reasons. And I am living with them as best I can.”

Juno slumped on the sofa, feeling like his limbs were made of lead, “Peter…”

“You know my father, Juno, don’t you?” Nureyev bulled past his words, sensing there was nothing behind them, “You saw it all, you know everything. He was soft, he was kind, he was brave and he thought the world of me. And he was a lie. A fantasy cooked up by some two bit con artist who wanted to use me for his own gain. The father I’d hung all of my hopes and dreams and personality on was a complete fiction.”

The pain in his voice was so raw and so real, Juno was consumed with the twin urges to hold him and turn and run from him.

“But I have made him real,” there wasn’t a shake in Nureyev’s voice any more, “I have remade myself into that lie from the ground up and I have brought him to life and stepped into his skin. All for her. All for my daughter. So don’t you dare dangle false hope in front of me now and yank it away. Don’t you dare ruin everything I’ve made for her with your cowardice.”

Juno looked at Bianca, perfect and beautiful and so fragile, clutching Nureyev but looking at him with uncertainty, not liking the raised voices and the sharp words, not liking that he was crying. She could become anything she wanted to be but whatever it was, it would be amazing.

And he would see none of it.

“I think you’d better go,” he rasped, voice thick and heavy with tears.

“I agree,” Nureyev’s voice was clipped and professional again, like the outburst embarrassed him, “Goodbye, detective. Enjoy saving Hyperion City.”

He shouldered the bag of Bianca’s things he’d apparently already packed and quickly made for the door. But as he did, Bianca piped up, squawking, reaching her hands out over her daddy’s shoulder. Reaching for Juno.

Nureyev’s expression turned to ice, seeing his daughter straining to reach the man who’d broken his heart three times now. His eyes snapped to Juno to see what he would do.

Juno looked at her, swallowed hard and turned away towards his bedroom. The fog inside him had never felt so thick, thick enough to choke him, enough that you would get lost in it and never find your way out. Already he could feel his senses dulling, the inability to care settling over him like a wet blanket, like the worst kind of drenching rain.

“Bye kiddo,” he murmured, not looking back.

He heard Nureyev’s noise of satisfaction, sounding ever so slightly forced, and Bianca’s soft sound of dismay. And he heard the door shut.

He walked back to his bed and laid on his side, staring into nothing, not feeling the salt dried onto his cheek, not feeling the ache in his chest. Not feeling much of anything.

Rita would be shocked at his call the next morning, telling her sharply that they were reponening and to get herself back to the office. She would see his absent arms, the downward turn to his mouth that had returned when it was so close to disappearing forever. She wouldn’t ask where Bianca had gone, she wouldn’t ask to come over for dinner again, though it made her heart hurt so fiercely. She would nod and go sit back at her desk.

Things would return to normal, Juno back as the PI trying to do some good in a city where the word had lost all meaning, He would throw himself into cases where he’d rejected them before, just to have something to do. And he would fall into something bigger and more dangerous than he could imagine.

But that was for later. For tonight, he would lie there and recognise the raw edged hole in his heart that he couldn’t feel. And exhaustion and a desire to simply not be conscious any more would eventually claim him.

And he would dream of birdsong and soft dark hair beneath his fingertips.

#the penumbra podcast #junoverse #juniverse #trans pregnancy #trans peter nureyev #peter nureyev #jupeter #juno steel #tpp #tpp fic #dad au #angst #very much angst #oc: bianca

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