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turkeyinnovember · 8 months ago

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lab rats pt1

By the time Curt woke up, he found his spine aching from being left on the couch for… Damn, God knows how long. He blinked off the haziness and let himself roll off the couch, barely catching himself on the carpet with his knees.

An elbow that landed on the coffee table hit something- a glass. The water inside splashed out and soaked his sleeve. He didn’t have a habit of keeping water on the table, though at the same time he didn’t have a habit of sleeping on the couch.

He reached for the water, ignoring the neon sticky note on the backside while he drank, the faint taste of dust prompting him to question just how long he had been out for. With the cold water setting in his system and his mind clearing up, he was left with no choice but to recall what he’d done moments, hours, or even days ago. Curt pursed his lips and spun the glass around to read what he expected to be — and is — an uncomfortable reminder of what he does.

‘thank you agent for your hard work, the subjects have been successfully detained. meet in 304’

Curt could almost snicker at where the director had run out of space to write and had to squish the letters together, but he didn’t have the heart to. Or maybe he was still woozy from the sedative. It wouldn’t make sense for him to feel bad for them.

Regardless, it’d be a good idea to do as he’s told.

But something… He whipped his head around to stare at the camera in the corner, almost visualizing it flash red. He finally gave up after it remained motionless, though he promised to himself that he’d get someone to remove the camera.

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

After so long of being under disguise, dressing back in the suit felt almost strange to him. But, almost ironically, that foreignness was more familiar to him with the frequency of his missions— they weren’t a big organization.

Still, the halls of the building were familiar to him, the near manic look of the research team was just as before he left, and that corner with the scratched wall was familiar. He’d been here since he was a teenager and this is his home, he reminded himself as he pushed open the door to 304.

There she was.

She’d transformed the security room into a livable space, insisting on monitoring the entire building by herself. Only rarely does she ever leave to physically direct important processions. Perhaps she didn’t trust many people, perhaps she just liked being in control.

Curt would hate to have to admit that he was at least a little afraid of her, it was especially ironic after growing up together and creating this entire scheme. Maybe distance was put between them the second she assumed her position as the lead of the organization and head researcher, and he was technically just an employee of hers. Maybe he was even viewed as more a pawn than anything else.

Even though this started as their project and he didn’t care any less than she did.

“How was the sleep, Sleeping Beauty?”

Damn, well, he’s been in here for less than two seconds and he already wants to leave. “Not bad, considering I’ve been sleeping for three days.”

“Yeah, we extended the dosage a little.” She waved her hand dismissively, “I wanted to make sure they were the first things you’d see!”

He stepped forward with the invitation, glancing over her shoulder at the security screen and cringing despite fully expecting to see the four. They were still out cold, tossed over the floor without much care despite bunk beds prepared for them. He wasn’t sure why that ticked him, it was expected for the personnel to treat them like this. The four no longer wore the clothes he last saw them in — now a uniformed, prisoner-like outfit — and they were decked out with sedative collars and location tracking bracelets. He recognize those and even assisted in the production.

“It took a bit of time, you know,” She watched the still screen with unreasonable interest. She glanced at him, only then realizing that he wasn’t settled and dragged out a chair for him. “Oh come on Curt, sit down. …it was hard to run all the tests within the time the first dose could provide us, so we had to extend it. Don’t take it to heart.”

“Well, thank you then.”

She ignored the taunting tone and continued, “Not that we don’t trust you, I mean. Of course we recognize your ability to locate and rule out those who are and aren’t serpents, you are exceptional in your skill with a three out of four accuracy, yes, but after nearly eight months all you gave us was that you limited it down to these four.”

Suddenly, she spun to face him. The grin at her lips now dragged out into a snarl and her eyes narrowed. “And what was that shit with using your birth name?”

“I don’t recall any policy against it,” Curt rolled his eyes, “I’ve told you I recognize one of them from college and it’d be easier that way. Besides, I didn’t think it concerned you.”

“How does it not concern me?” She scowled, “You get caught by the police and were all gone! If you want to die, don't fucking drag me with you!”

A figure on the screen moved and Curt immediately shushed her. It seemed confused, before scrambling to wake the others.

She clicked her tongue and turned back, tweaking the focus and zoomed in while increasing the volume with her other hand.

“This is..?”

“Livestream, yeah.”

The silence between them pursued with the two concentrated on the screen. As the volume increased and camera adjusted, the audio grew clear and every movement of the four was transferred onto the screen.

“Yo, what the fuck is this?” Christian hissed, glancing around the room. His chin had sprouted uneven bits of stubble and some of his hair fell out of the ponytail. He drummed a finger on the floor, radiating a mix of anxiety and irritation.

“Yeah Ivan,” Den tried to brush her bangs back, uncomfortable with the absence of her hat. “What’d you do this time?”

“Why is it me?” The man replied half heartedly, glancing around the room and scratching anxiously at his new collar. “What kind of asylum did we get arrested to?”

“I feel like we kind of need one anyway,” Unlike the others, Kristine never even attempted to pick herself off the floor. She lay on the ground with an air of pessimism as she loosened her braid and picked out the wilted flowers.

“Goddamn,” Ivan held a hand out, checking the dried petals after she dropped one there, “How long have we been here for?”

Christian climbed up and walked towards the door further in the room while Den turned to the closer one.

Curt watched the director hum to herself as she clicked a few buttons and another monitor lit up. He leaned back and saw Den poke her head into the bathroom and meet his eye — not literally, but through the camera —

“What the fuck, there’s a camera in the bathroom?!”

For perhaps the first time since Curt was able to befriend her, they had enough — as Kristine would put it — physic bond to synchronize a sentence, though the conditions were strange. He would have believed the echo from the monitor was his imagination if it hadn’t been for the weird look the director shot him.

“Unfortunately yes,” She sighed, “There’s vents and mirrors in the bathroom, you know? Can’t risk them trying anything when we’re so close.”

He made no comment.

“Yo, that’s kinda weird!” Ivan squeezed past her and climbed on the countertop to face the camera, saying something else that Curt didn’t quite catch with his attention now on Christian.

He knew the guy had a fiery temper, though over the years he’d gotten much more reserved… supposedly. He shuddered at the strength he used to tug at the door handle. A moment passed when he finally relaxed and pressed his forehead to the door, eyes still glued to the door knob. He seemed to sigh and took a few steps back… Only to jump-kick the door instead.

He’d worry more for the door if he hadn’t known how much money went into the quality and security of this place.

Hearing the noise, Den and Ivan rushed to join the two by the front, while the director radioed a few commands to the armed forces waiting outside and connected her microphone.

“Please refrain from attempting escape, subject seven.” She announced, the speaker captured their attention and the questions poured at once.

It was the usual procedure. When he had time to stay in the foundation, he was often invited to watch the director negotiate with the subjects and personnel. So, he wasn’t sure why his heart suddenly surged with fear when she leaned into the microphone.

She seemed to know though.

With the same hand, she switched off the microphone and turned to him, “How much do you want to tell them?”

“Me?”

It was rare for her to ask for his input. He didn’t really care what she told them, though there usually is a script for the information the subjects are allowed to have. She seemed to believe that her ideas are superior to all others and they’d only ruin her project. Although, Curt feels like he understood why his opinions matter now.

He felt guilty.

As expected, she didn’t actually care about his answer and cleared her throat as soon as the four quieted down. “This is,” she glanced almost tauntingly at Curt, “Michelle speaking. I am the director of this organization…”

He wasn’t ready and somehow she seemed to know that. He couldn’t have her telling them he was behind this and she seemed to know before he could. He wasn’t ready for them to know he betrayed them.

Please, he almost whispered. But instead he just wrapped his hand around something behind him. It felt like a mug.

“How about we let someone else tell you more details? Introducing my right hand man,” She turned, grinning at him. Curt stared back blankly as he adjusted his grip. He couldn’t control his face to make any expressions, or make verbal threats for fear of his voice getting caught on mic. His nerves felt as if they were hanging by a thread and he swore he’d kill her right there on the spot the second his name came out of her mouth.

He blinked and decided to act first.

Kicking off the chair, he dashed for the mic. Side-stepping Michelle while twisting his torso to face her, his left hand shot in front for the power switch and the right with the mug was raised high in the air, threatening to strike had she made any moves.

He relaxed his shoulders the second he felt the switch flip, though the blood that rushed his ears muted the click he expected. He didn’t consider lowering the weapon as he protected the mic behind his back and glared at the woman. He could hear the four in the cell start to discuss the crashing sounds he had made, moving from the mic he muted the monitors.

“What the fuck?” She cursed at him in some type of whisper-yell, though an almost humored smile was present in her tone. Curt hated that. She too, had pushed off her chair and stood up, causing Curt to tense again. Sensing this, she raised both of hands in the air and stepped back, “You’d go this far? I mean, they'll know eventually… Whether they guess it or I tell them.”

“Shut up,” Curt huffed, he scrambled in his mind for a suitable, appropriate answer for this situation, but when it came up blank he just choked back plainly, “How about you just shut the fuck up? Alright?”

Distracted, he failed to notice her shift in position as she lunged forward at him and kicked him to the floor. He coughed as he collided with the wires on the floor, allowing himself one second to stabilize before he climbed up and chucked the mug as hard as he could at her head. Expecting the projectile, Michelle moved at high speeds and threw the chair she sat on earlier at him while the mug missed her by a few inches and crashed into the wall.

“You’re cleaning this shit up.” He heard her say.

“Shut up.” His ribs ached.

He heard chairs being dragged and someone flopping onto it. “You are also going to be the one that tells them.”

“Why?”

“Why they have to know? ‘Cause I hate you, and I want to see you suffer, Curtis.”

“Why do I feel bad for doing this, my job, why do I feel guilty?”

“Why are you asking me, aren’t you in therapy?”

“What’s different about them? This hasn’t happened before.”

“You know what else hasn’t happened before? You using your real name.”

“Shut the fuck up, Michelle.”

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

Subscript Notes: i'll post this onto ao3 when i grammer check and revision and all that jazz also sorry for not being on tumblr more school's been so fucking busy im just draggin out and waiting for easter break at this point constructive criticism and stuff r welcomed btw final draft will be on ao3 anyway

#good day folks #uhm #this is the au i was talking about #opposite of soup's scp au #this is like the third time ive rewritten the first chapter so let me know if anything is confusing #i have a habit of assuming people have knowledge of something #recreyo au #recreyo fanfic #ivan animated #frugal aesthetic #kfel #curt richy #cypherden #lab rats au

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a-wins-a-win · 5 months ago

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i am supremely indecisive and need direction, so I’m putting this one to a tumblr poll ;

summaries and such under the readmore - feel free to send asks for more info <3

just to be clear, no matter the poll results i will be working on-and-off on smaller fics + my essays* and such anyway - the option is just there if people would be more interested in having shorter/less involved works more often, rather than just a scattering of one-shots for however long it takes me to wrangle a Project to somewhere i'm happy with to share it. * the essays are happening and will be happening, independently of whatever ends up happening with my fic writing, as well. it will again just boil down to focus and available research/writing time.

anyway! onto the Project summaries ;

forgive and forget (it’s all coming back to me now)

Jason was pretty certain he'd just end up working for his father in the end, but Ivy had managed to convince him that it was worth at least trying to find his work experience somewhere else. He had basically expected the crappy intern jobs - coffee runs, sorting files, and generally trailing after competent employees like some kind of lost puppy. What he hadn't expected, however, was for Peter goddamn Simmonds to have landed a co-op position at the same company.

post-canon canon divergence

eventual mcsimmonds

ivy is a major character too, i promise she gets her own b-plots

background lucadia

messy confusing feelings + cheating subplots

something stupid (like i love you)

A few days. Somehow, letting Lucas crash on Matt's couch for a few days turned into buying Lucas new clothes, turned into cleaning him up and helping with the job search. Which then turned into Matt making Lucas dinner and letting Lucas make him dinner in return, until dinner was a combined effort and light-hearted arguments about organizational systems. And it wasn't until their closets blurred together and Lucas started helping to pick out new drinking glasses that either of them realised they'd be happy if a few days lasted forever.

post-canon lucatt

roommates to friends to lovers type beat

in many ways they've grown and changed, in many ways they haven't

of course there's a lot of tension in the in-between stage where they're trying to figure out how to incorporate into each other's lives again, but eventually they end up falling into a cute domestic routine

there's something there in lucas and matt forgiving each other for the roles they played in/the ways they contributed to the general disaster that was their senior year (but Jason's suicide in particular)

as close to heaven as i’ll get

There wasn't a doubt in anyone's mind that Jason McConnell would do well at Notre Dame - 5 generations of top-level vampire hunters had come before him (and his father was quite insistent that AFTER him would come 5 more). The only thing that stood in his way was an entrance exam requiring a record of field experience.

Peter Simmonds understood the importance of following the rules imposed by the coven, really he did. But even so - something about the bright spots the stained glass windows of the church reflected onto the wet ground drew him in.

mcsimmonds vampire AU

Twilight/Supernatural-esque rural vibes + Southern Gothic inspiration

i get to fuck around with vampire folklore and religious imagery! and who doesn't love that?

a big chunk of inspiration for it was the concept of Peter seeing so much like. peace and community and what have you in this idea of the church involvement that he so desperately wants to be a part of, played against Jason's so desperately wanting to get out of it. if you see the vision.

just because [i’m] pretty

Over the years Ivy Robinson had been called a lot of things. Cutie, Angel, Pretty Baby, Slut, Whore, Bitch. Mostly she tried not to hold onto them too tight, not to think too deeply about how they felt in her mouth as she studied herself in the mirror. But occasionally something would stick. She just hadn't expected that something to be 'boyish'.

gay trans man ivy <3

a lot of times he is trying to explore/come to terms with himself through his art

although his romantic + sexual attraction to boys is obviously a cornerstone of his identity there'd also be largely platonic [& antagonistic & familial] relationship focuses

touch tank

A dramatic part of Peter wanted to let himself be bitter and jaded about his parents divorce, like every other seventeen-year-old main character. But the more sensible part of him knew that was unfair, and unrealistic - especially when it had led him to some of the prettiest, most interesting boys he had ever met.

good catholics <3 [my matt/peter/jason triad]

merfolk au! wherein jason is merfolk at the other two are not

set in a cliche small costal town , lots of cute vibes + also costal weather, because i love the rain

silly little subplots involving the other characters occur around the main story as well

#ya boy is supremely indecisive what can xe say #polls #fics-ation nation #mouse talks bapo #bare a pop opera #mcsimmonds #lucatt #jason mcconnell #peter simmonds #ivy robinson #matt lloyd #lucas carter #transmasc ivy robinson #good catholics <3 #forgive & forget is probably the most intense and expansive for what it's worth #and either touch tank or something stupid will be the simplest one to get through #i also am a chronic fic inspiration pinterest board maker - so if you would like to see those DM me here/on discord #if ur voting for one-shots + smaller fics feel free to let me know which characters and/or dynamics you’d like to see me play around with #bc I have many Thoughts and Feelings about all of them <3

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fanmoose12 · 4 years ago

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friday, i’m in love

“Before becoming an official member of our gang, though, you need to do those four things."

"Alright," Hange nods, listening intently.

"First!" Isabel raises her index finger. "You need to punch Zeke in a face, but I'm sure it's bound to happen."

Hange giggles, getting excited. "What's next?"

"Second, you need to skip a class, and you've already done it, so!" Isabel clasps her shoulder. "Congratulations on that one."

Farlan pats her knee too, and Hange shows them a proud smile.

"Third, you need to smoke at least one cigarette."

"I can't," her smile falls, as Hange briefly shakes her head. "I have asthma."

"I'll do it for you then," Farlan offers, walking to the other side of the rooftop to do just that.

"And the last thing! The most important one!" Isabel makes a dramatic pause, shifting her gaze to Levi just for a second, before looking back on Hange with a mischievous smile. She winks and lowers her voice, making sure that Levi doesn’t hear her.

"The last condition - you have to kiss one of us."

For the most kids her age, moving to a different town and changing schools is a fate worth than death. And, while Hange is a little saddened to say goodbye to the friends she made at her old school and more than a little saddened to leave her dad behind, she is also excited at the prospect of starting a new life.

Changing schools means she can meet new people, and meeting new people means she can make new friends.

And Hange, unlike most of her peers, isn't afraid of change. She welcomes it actually, preferring new experiences over dull and repetitive routine.

They move to a new town and to a small two-story house in the quiet suburbs. It’s a little different from the house they used to live before, a little quieter too, but it’s lovely. Hange likes it instantly. She’s ready to call it a new home.

The first couple of weeks are awfully busy. Hange and her mother unpack their things and buy new furniture. They meet their neighbors and her mother starts making new friends.

Hange can’t wait to meet her new friends at school too.

And so very soon, the long-awaited day comes.

***

When it finally does, Hange is brimming with excitement.

She puts on her glasses and dresses in her favorite clothes that was washed and ironed by her mother the evening before, ties her hair in a ponytail, grabs a lunch box that was waiting for her on a kitchen counter, kisses her mother's cheek, yells "love you!" right into her ear, making her wince and push laughing Hange away, hurries to hop on her bike and makes her way to the school.

She makes a new friend in a face of one Moblit Berner approximately three minutes and forty six seconds later after crossing a threshold and passing below a banner that read Sina High School.

Moblit is a nice and friendly boy, even if a bit quiet and timid, compared to her. Although, Hange also has to admit that compared to her, almost everyone seems to be quiet and timid.

Moblit is incredibly kind and he offers to show Hange around the school. He agrees to walk her to every class and even draws a small, but very detailed map for her.

During lunch, Moblit remains by her side. As they slowly eat their food, Hange points at random students who pique her interest and Moblit shares with her his opinion of them.

"That's Erwin and Mike," Moblit says, when Hange asks him about two blondes that sit in the very middle of the cafeteria. "Erwin is president of a debate club, also his father works at our school, he's a history teacher. Mike is a captain of a football team. They're nice guys, and Erwin is always ready to help, if you struggle with a class. Although, he's not that good at math..."

Hange nods, absorbing the information and committing it to memory. Her gaze lingers at Erwin and Mike for a few more seconds, before it moves on to a next target, this time two petite redheads.

"Ah, Nifa and Petra," Moblit fondly smiles. "They're both cheerleaders. Petra is also a member of a drama club, and Nifa helps me manage a biology club."

"Biology club?" Hange lights up, carelessly tossing her sandwich onto the table. She can’t believe her luck. She loves science and was the president of a chemistry club back in her old school. She didn’t dare to hope that the new school would give her an opportunity to continue pursuing her passions. "Can I join?"

"You really want to?" Moblit asks, biting his lip. Doubt is written all over his face. "We don't have a lot of members..."

"Of course, I want to!" Hange exclaims much louder than she intended to. As a result, she attracts attention of some students who turn to look at her. Some seem curious, others - annoyed. Hange pays no mind to either. She grabs Moblit by the shoulders and stares deep into his eyes. "I'm so excited already! When is your next meeting?"

"This Friday..."

"Awesome! Expect me to be here!" she clasps Moblit's back, almost making him choke, and then sweeps her gaze across the cafeteria, looking for someone interesting.

"There!" she points at the girl with long, dark hair that sits in the far corner of the room with a blonde boy by her side. "Who is that?"

"That's Pieck," Moblit answers. "She's involved in a drama club too, although she mostly just helps with painting the backgrounds for the scenes. And that's... all I know about her. She's nice, and I think she's dating Porco, or, maybe, Porco is dating Reiner, or, maybe, Reiner is dating Berthold... sorry," he rubs his neck in embarrassment. "I don't really pay attention to that kind of stuff, and their relationship is pretty complicated."

"Don't worry," Hange pats his arm. "I get confused with that kind of stuff all the time. Now! Who is that?"

Her finger points at a bespectacled guy with blonde hair.

Moblit's face twists in disgust. "That's Zeke Yeager. He's the biggest jerk and bully of our school. Try to stay away from him, and—" he nods at the redheaded boy sitting next to him. "And his pal Floch. He's even worth than Zeke."

Hange wants to ask more about them, but then she notices a boy, who sits in the furthest corner of the cafeteria.

Hange is sure that wearing leather jackets is prohibited in this school, but this boy doesn't seem to care. He is dressed in a white t-shirt and a big, black leather jacket. His hair is black too and the longer strands of it obscure his eyes. But even that can’t hide the fact that the boy is wearing a displeased, irritated expression. Hange wonders about the reason for the sour face.

"Hey!" she points her finger at him. "Who is that shorty?"

"Shh!" Moblit hurriedly lowers her hand, his eyes widening in panic. "Don't point your finger at him! And, for the love of god, don't call him shorty, Hange! Better yet, try not to talk or even look at him."

"Eh?" Hange frowns. "What do you mean? What's wrong with that guy?"

"That's Levi Ackerman," Moblit says, lowering voice to a hushed whisper. “Those two are his best friends – Isabel and Farlan,” he shows Hange a small redheaded girl and a tall guy with white hair that sit next to Levi. “And you should never mess with them."

"So they’re worse than Zeke and his friend?"

"Much worse," Moblit confirms, his eyes grim and serious. "Everyone says they’re a part of some gang. They say that Isabel is a thief, and Farlan is an arsonist. And Levi Ackerman…” Moblit purses his lips, a shadow of fear flushing across his face. “Once he broke Mike's jaw for calling him a midget, and some say that he had killed a man with his bare hands just for pouring out coffee on him. Whatever happens, try to stay away from the three of them, Hange."

"If you say so..." Hange murmurs. She takes a bite of her sandwich, continuing to stare at the dark-haired boy. Suddenly he looks up, and Hange almost chokes.

His eyes bore into hers with a surprising intensity. They are cold and grey, like the edge of a knife.

Hange lifts her lips in what she hopes is a friendly smile.

Levi Ackerman scoffs and looks away.

Hange continues watching him, waiting for their eyes to meet again. They don’t.

But as Hange leaves the cafeteria, trailing after Moblit like a little lost duckling, she can't get the look he had given her out of her mind.

Levi Ackerman... What an enigma.

***

It is Friday afternoon, and the sun is gently passing through the already yellowing leafs. The warm light paints the world in golden colors, making it seem more warm and welcoming.

Hange, however, has no time to enjoy the beauty around her. It is Friday afternoon, and she is running late.

She was so excited for the first biology club meeting, that’s the only thing she could think about for the whole week. She gathered all the science projects she had done at the old school and she prepared a small presentation for other club members and she even thought of a few suggestions to expand the club, which, as she understood from Moblit’s words, was quite small.

All this work, all these preparations and now she is running late, because she stayed after class to talk with Mr. Smith and forgot about the time.

And, to make matters worse, she is lost. The part of school she finds herself in is completely unfamiliar to her, and she can’t quite understand how she got here in the first place.

Cursing herself, Hange takes out a map Moblit made for her, tracing the drawing with her index finger and muttering Moblit’s instructions under her breath.

“Go to the second floor, take the first turn to the left and then walk to the end of the hallway…”

A second later it dawns at her – she is in the wrong wing and on the wrong floor.

Muttering another curse, Hange turns around and rushes to the stairs. Holding the research notes she wrote the night before to her chest with one hand, she keeps Moblit’s map in front of her eyes, checking it after each turn she takes.

She is just about to enter a hallway that leads to the biology classroom, when she collides with something. Stumbling, she falls down, her papers flying around.

She blinks a few times, trying to get a sense of her surroundings. Moblit didn’t draw anything that would prepare her for the obstacle that caused her fall.

She slowly looks up. In front of her, seemingly larger than life is a pair of steely grey eyes.

Levi Ackerman, Hange realizes immediately. He is on the floor too, right next to her. And he doesn’t seem too pleased about it.

She gulps. For the first time in her life, Hange doesn’t know what to say.

“The hell you’re wearing those glasses for?” the boy growls, getting up. “Watch where you’re going, four-eyes.”

“Ah, sorry!” Hange exclaims. His rude, throaty voice does a great job of pushing her out of stupor. “I’m just new at this school, and so I got little lost, but, thankfully, my friend Moblit drew me a map, and that’s why I didn’t look where I was—”

“Jesus,” Levi groans. “Shut the fuck up. Give me that shit.”

Before Hange can protest, he snatches the map out of her hands. His eyebrows form a line as he studies the small drawing.

And suddenly Hange remembers what Moblit had said about Levi Ackerman and his warnings to stay away from him.

Once he broke Mike's jaw.

These words ring loudly inside her mind. She had seen Mike in the hallways, he is quite a large guy. And Hange, despite being quite tall for her age, isn’t nearly as big as him. If Levi is able to break Mike’s jaw, what can he do to her?

Hange never had her jaw broken before, so by all accounts it should be a new experience for her. She likes new experiences. But she also likes her jaw and the prospect of having it broken… isn’t all that exciting.

Still sitting on a floor, Hange watches the boy warily.

“You’re looking for a biology class, right?” he asks after he finished studying the map.

“Yes,” Hange nods cautiously.

Suddenly she remembers a girl she used to play with at the playground near her old house. The girl had broken an arm once, after falling off a swing. She screamed and cried and then her mother took her to the doctor, and when she came back, she couldn’t play with little Hange anymore, because her arm was in a sling and she couldn’t move it for almost a whole month.

And that was just an arm. Hange can only imagine how much a broken jaw would hurt. She really isn’t that keen on finding out.

“Of course, you’re a nerd, how I didn’t guess it before,” Levi mutters, as he starts to walk away.

Hange stares at his back, wondering if the storm had passed.

Evidently, it hadn’t – Levi turns around. He arches his eyebrow, looking at Hange quizzically.

“Did you hit your head or something, four-eyes? Get up, I’ll lead you to the class. You’re in the wrong wing, idiot.”

Hange is still confused – wasn’t he going to beat her up? But then she remembers the reason for this whole mess.

“The meeting!” she cries out, hurriedly gathering the papers that are scattered across the floor.

As she kneels on the wooden floor, picking up the papers, Levi’s words finally register in her mind.

“Wait!” she looks up at him. “You said I’m in a wrong wing again?”

“Well, aren’t you slow,” he deadpans. “Here,” he hands her the last one of her papers. For a second, their fingers brush against each other, and Hange finds out that in contrast to his eyes, Levi’s hands are warm. But before she can decide if his skin is soft or not, Levi pulls away, turning around. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

“You’re… going to lead me to the class?” Hange clarifies, cautiousness returning to her face.

“That’s what I said, right?” Levi starts to walk, not looking back at her. “Or is your hearing as shitty as your eyesight?”

“Not really,” Hange chuckles, following after him.

Levi Ackerman isn’t going to beat her up. She is almost certain.

***

“Hange, you’re here!” as soon as she enters the classroom, Moblit is beside her. “I thought you forgot about our meeting!”

“How could I?” Hange grins, easing his worry. “I was preparing the whole week for this! I just got a bit lost on my way here, sorry for being late.”

“You got lost? How did you find us then?” the petite redhead walks up to her too.

Not the redhead – Nifa, cheerleader and Moblit’s friend, Hange remembers.

“You used my map, right?” Moblit asks.

“Eh, no,” Hange rubs her neck, feeling a little shy. “Levi helped me get here.”

“Levi?” Nifa’s eyes widen in surprise. “As in the Levi Ackerman? The scariest guy of our school?”

“I guess?” Hange answers. “He was right there—” she opens the door to show Levi to Nifa and Moblit, he couldn’t have left far away, he had walked her to the door, after all, but unfortunately – the hallway is empty. She turns back to Moblit and Nifa with a helpless chuckle. “And he already left…”

“Are you sure that was Levi?” Moblit narrows his eyes a fraction, looking doubtful.

“I…” before she can reply, Hange remembers that she didn’t actually ask for his name. But those grey eyes… they can’t belong to anyone else. At the same time, Hange senses that no matter what she is going to say, neither Moblit nor Nifa would believe her.

And it doesn’t matter, not really. After all, they have a more pressing matter on their hands right now.

The vast and enigmatic world of molecular biology.

She clasps her hands together, attracting attention of the two boys, who stand at the other side of the classroom. They look up and Hange smiles, making a mental note to introduce herself to them later.

She unzips her bag, taking out her laptop and gathering her notes. “I’ve prepared a small report!” she announces, opening the first slide of her forty minutes long presentation.

***

It is a nice day. Despite the calendar showing that it is already October, the weather is warm enough to mistake it for the end of May.

The sky is clear and blue, the apple Hange is eating is juicy and sweet and her conversation with Moblit is engaging and fun.

With a bright smile on her lips, Hange lifts her face up to the sky, squinting against the blinding light. The sunbeams dance across her skin, kissing her cheeks and nose with their gentle warmth.

It is a nice day. But then a shadow obscures her view of the sun.

Hange opens her eyes, frowning at the sudden intrusion.

Next to her, Moblit falls silent. In front of her, Floch and two of his friends smirk, looking down on them.

"Get lost, Zoe," Floch tells flippantly, sparring her no more than a single glance. "Your boyfriend and I need to have a little chat."

Hange feels her chest fill with rage.

"Like hell I would!" she raises to her feet, fists clenching in anger.

In a month she spent at Sina High, she learnt a lot about Floch. She learnt that he is stupid and simpleminded, cruel and cowardly. Most of all, he is a bully.

Hange hates bullies with all the fierceness of her heart.

She had her fair share of taunting and mockery before. The kids made fun of her for wearing glasses, for having a large nose, for being too loud or too weird. Hange knows that the only one way to deal with endless jabs and sneers is to fight back. And over the course of her sixteen years of life she got amazingly good at it.

"Hange—" Moblit whispers, grasping her sleeve desperately. "Hange, please, do as he says."

"No!" Hange declares, glaring fiercely at Floch. "I'll stay with you, Moblit."

"Your mistake," Floch huffs, the smirk on his face growing wider. Behind his back, his friends flex their fists. "One nerd or two, what does it matter? I'll easily deal with both of you."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Hange warns, narrowing her eyes at him.

Getting into a fight isn't anything new for her. Unfortunately, having her ass kicked isn't anything new for her either. Even so, she isn't going to back down.

Hange braces herself, raising her fists and putting her left leg behind her for support. Watching Floch closely, she wonders where he would hit first. Her left or right cheek? Her nose or jaw? Or maybe, he'd go to the legs first? Hange doubts it, Floch doesn't seem to be that smart.

He raises his fist and Hange closes her eyes, preparing herself for the sharp sting of pain.

It never comes. Instead, a shadow appears in front of her again, this one much darker.

A second passes, and nothing happens. And then she hears Floch's feeble whimper.

Hange gingerly opens her eyes.

Holding Floch's fist in his hand, Levi Ackerman is standing before her, his wide back, as always, clad in black leather jacket.

"What's the matter, Floch?" he speaks in a low voice. "Got tired of picking fights with middle schoolers?"

Floch doesn't answer, his eyes turning wide, and Levi twists his arm, throwing him on the ground.

"Get the fuck out of here," he spits out, turning away as though just the sight of Floch disgusts him.

Not needing him to tell twice, Floch shoots to his feet and runs, his friends following after him.

Hange watches them with deep sense of satisfaction. She would prefer to make Floch leave with the use of her own fists, but that— that is nice too. And totally painless.

"We should go as well, Hange," Moblit mumbles, tugging insistently at her shirt.

"You go first," Hange answers, not taking her eyes off Levi. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Hange..." Moblit's quiet voice is disapproving, and Hange turns to look at him, curving her lips in a smile. "I'll be right behind you, don't worry."

"Just be careful," he instructs at last, before grabbing his bag and walking away.

With Floch and Moblit gone, Hange is left alone with Levi.

Or... not.

As Hange looks around, she realizes that Levi had left too. By now, his dark figure is nothing more than a small dot on a horizon. Hange hurries after him.

"Hey, hey, Levi! Wait!" she desperately tries to catch up with him. Levi doesn't slow down.

"Go away, four-eyes," he mutters without even looking at her.

Like hell she would.

Hange speeds up and in a matter of seconds, she reaches Levi. Huffing and painting, she struggles to keep up with his confident stride. But she doesn’t give up.

"Hey— hey, I just—" she inhales, then swiftly exhales. "I just wanted to ask," another deep breath, this one's much shakier. "Why did you help me?"

Levi stops long enough to turn around and throw her a dark look. "I didn't."

"You did!" Hange persists. "For the second time!"

"Leave me alone," he scoffs and starts to walk again.

Naturally, Hange follows after him. Levi passes the main entrance to school and heads to the side door.

He's going to skip a class, Hange realizes.

She has never skipped a class before. How exciting!

"It makes me think," she continues talking as though she didn't hear his last words. "Maybe, you're a bit misunderstood. I don't think you're as scary as everyone thinks you are."

"I'm much scarier," Levi mutters, moving up the stairs.

He is going up on a rooftop, Hange guesses. Again, she has never been on a rooftop before. Double excitement!

"And if you don't wish me to show you how scary I can be, I advise you to leave me alone."

"Nope," Hange smiles, not moved by his threat. She almost has him figured out. Levi Ackerman, the presumable gangster and the most fearsome student of Sina High isn't quite as terrible as he appears to be. "You won't hurt me."

"And why the fuck not?" Levi grunts, pushing the door to the rooftop open. He tries to shove it in her face, but Hange is faster, and she passes the threshold before he can push the door closed.

"Because you're nice," Hange easily answers.

"I'm really not."

Pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, Levi walks up to edge of rooftop and plops down on the floor. Hange sits next to him. She turns her head around and watches the grand blue sky above her. At the sight of it all, breath catches in her throat.

Paying her no mind, Levi takes out a pack of cigarettes and puts a stick into his mouth.

He lifts a lighter, when Hange speaks.

"Can you smoke later?" she asks carefully. "You see, I have asthma..."

Levi curses under his breath. He sighs and puts the cigarette down. Hange beams.

"I was right after all," she bumps her shoulder against his. "You are a nice."

"I'm going to push you off the edge," he promises darkly. Hange's smile doesn't falter.

"Don't you have to be in class?" Levi questions. "Why are you bothering me?"

"You're nice," Hange repeats. "I want to be your friend."

"I don't."

Hange snickers. As if she would give him a choice.

They don't speak after that. Hange, still smiling, returns to gazing up at the sky, lazily watching the movements of clouds.

Levi seems to be slowly coming with the grips that to get rid of her he most probably would have to act on his threat and push her off the edge. With a sour expression, he braces his hands against the railing and stares at the ground below.

The silence, surprisingly, is pleasant and comfortable. It is broken by the sound of the door opening. Hange turns around, and sees Levi's friends - Farlan and Isabel - climb on a rooftop.

As they notice her, their faces brighten up.

"Levi!" Isabel runs up to him. "So you finally gathered enough courage? I'm so proud of you!"

"Izzy," Farlan takes her by the elbow, just before she can latch herself onto Levi. "I don't think he has."

"Eh?" Hange shifts her gaze from Farlan and Isabel to Levi. Something is going on, but she can't pinpoint what exactly.

"Shut up," Levi barks at his friends. "Four-eyes just decided to follow me up here, and now I can’t get rid of her."

"I just wanted to thank you," Hange grumbles, crossing hands on her chest and pursuing her lips in a pout. "For saving me from Floch and his friends."

"Oh!" Isabel's eyes lighten up. She jumps to Hange's side. "Big brother saved you?" she asks with a dreamy smile. "Levi, that's so—"

"Shut up, Isabel," he growls. "I'm not joking."

"Killjoy," Isabel whispers, throwing him a dark look.

Farlan takes a sit next to Hange, offering her his hand. "I'm Farlan," he says with a friendly smile. "And that’s," he gestures to the girl. "As you may have gathered, is our friend Isabel. Nice to finally meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Hange answers, shaking his hand. "I'm—"

"Hange," Farlan interrupts. "Yes," he briefly glances at Levi, his eyes alight with amusement. "We know."

"We should be friends!" Isabel announces, throwing her arm around her shoulders.

"I would like to," Hange replies. "But Levi doesn't seem to agree."

"Pay him no mind," Isabel waves her hand. "He’s just naturally that grumpy. As for Farlan and me, we’re ready to accept you in our ranks. Before becoming an official member of our gang, though, you need to do those four things."

"Alright," Hange nods, listening intently.

"First!" Isabel raises her index finger. "You need to punch Zeke in a face, but I'm sure it's bound to happen."

Hange giggles, getting excited. "What's next?"

"Second, you need to skip a class, and you've already done it, so!" Isabel clasps her shoulder. "Congratulations on that one."

Farlan pats her knee too, and Hange shows them a proud smile.

"Third, you need to smoke at least one cigarette."

"I can't," her smile falls, as Hange briefly shakes her head. "I have asthma."

"I'll do it for you then," Farlan offers, walking to the other side of the rooftop to do just that. Levi, who still holds a pack in his palm, doesn't join him, not moving from his place next to Hange.

"The last condition - you have to kiss one of us."

***

After that first time on the roof, their friendship progresses rapidly. Hange starts hanging out in the mall with Isabel, playing basketball with Farlan, skipping classes and walking home with Levi.

And very soon she finds out the truth about her new friends. Isabel isn't actually a thief, Farlan isn't an arsonist and Levi, obviously, has never murdered anyone.

Those rumors are just that - rumors.

"But what about Mike?" Hange asks.

The four of them are sitting side by side on what Hange likes to call their place - up on a rooftop of the school. Their shoulders are pressed tightly against each other, and their feet are dangling off the edge. The light from a setting sun reflects in her glasses, making her squint. On a scale of perfect days, this one is pretty close to the top.

In response to her question, Levi groans. Isabel and Farlan start laughing.

"I'm afraid that's another rumor," Farlan explains to the confused Hange.

"Although, Mike did break a jaw once," Isabel notes with a crooked grin.

"But not by me." Levi grits through his teeth. "That giant idiot got drunk and fell down the stairs. And because he was too embarrassed to tell the truth, he blamed it on me."

"So, you just let him do it?" Hange stares at Levi with raised eyebrows. "Didn't do anything even though he lied about you?” Levi nods and Hange smiles. “I stand corrected then, you're nice."

"I'm serious, four-eyes," Levi growls, sending her one of his meanest looks. "One day, I'll push you off this roof."

Hange throws her head back and laughs. Isabel and Farlan join her.

***

"Well, let's start our meeting, shall we?" Hange rubs her hands in anticipation, excited to tell her fellow club members about a study she recently found.

But before she can turn on her laptop and put on a new presentation, Nifa grips her elbow.

"It's all very thrilling," she smiles.

"It really is," Moblit nods eagerly.

"But we wanted to know something else."

Hange blinks a few times, and then feels color rise to her cheek. She suddenly realizes that in the past two months she was always the one to lead the meetings. It is quite understandable that Nifa wants her turn.

"Of course, if there's something you wish to share, we all gladly listen, Nifa."

"Oh no, I don't wish to share anything. On the contrary, there is so something I want to ask you."

The bright, enthusiastic look in her eyes is intriguing. Hange wonders what is it that Nifa wants to know - is it about a thesis she made last week? Or a week before that?

"I'm all ears," Hange promises, taking Nifa's hands into hers.

"So how does it feel," Nifa begins. "To date the most dangerous boy of our school?"

It takes Hange an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize who Nifa is talking about.

"Levi?" she breathes finally. "But we aren't— we aren’t dating! We’re just friends!"

Nifa plucks her lips and looks at Hange with suspicion and disbelief.

"But you're always together," she notes, staring at Hange through narrowed eyes.

"We're really not," Hange counters easily. "We just hang out sometimes."

"You skip classes with him. And he walks you home."

"And he saved you from Floch that one time," Moblit, the goddamn traitor, adds.

"And you're the only one he talks to, beside his two best friends." Nifa concludes with a confident smirk.

Hange looks from Moblit to Nifa, feeling at a loss of words.

It's not that she has never thought about it, she did sometimes, when Levi walked her home, and their hands brushed against each other, or when they sat on the roof together, their shoulders touching. Levi is handsome, even Hange - as bad as her eyesight is - knows that. But she also knows that Levi thinks she's messy and annoying. The hell would freeze sooner than he'd look at her like that.

So despite her frequent heart palpitations and leaps in breathing levels, Hange ignores her little crush, putting it to the furthest shelf of her mind.

Being friends with Levi is good enough. She doesn't wish for more.

And that's exactly what she tells to Moblit and Nifa.

"You're reading into things," she chuckles, dismissing their claims. "And now, it's time to read into something else!" she turns on the first slight of her presentation.

Moblit smiles and takes out his notebook. Nifa groans.

***

It's one of those days, when the world is bleak and grey, and the heavy clouds reign across the sky.

Looking out of the window, Hange feels an infinite sadness that isn't entirely caused by gloomy weather. For a second, she even debates skipping school at all, her mother probably wouldn't be against it, but Hange gets rid of that thought fairly quickly. It's not who she is, and wallowing in self-pity was never the way she dealt with her problems. Besides, the classes will provide an excellent distraction for her unhappy thoughts.

So Hange gets dressed, puts her hair in the usual ponytail and leaves her room. She greets her mother, who doesn't look quite as lively as she usually does, and kisses her cheek.

"I'll be home at five," Hange says quietly and walks outside.

The wind ruffles her hair, messing it up even more. It gets in her face and Hange pushes it away with a jerky movement of her wrist. She moves past her bike, deciding to walk to the school on her feet.

There are lots of things on her mind, and a lengthy stroll presents a perfect opportunity to think all of it through.

Hange walks through the grey, foggy streets with her head cast down. She stares at the ground, but not even an occasional sight of a sleazy worm is enough to lift her mood.

She reaches the gates of a school, when someone grabs her elbow.

Startled, she looks up. Levi is standing beside her.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his frown more prominent than usual.

“Nothing,” Hange lies, avoiding his sharp eyes.

Today they don’t remind her of the knife’s edge. Today, Hange thinks, they look just like a sky before a storm.

“What’s your first class?”

Levi stands close to her, too close. People are going to talk, Hange can’t help but think. But Levi doesn’t seem to care about it.

“English,” she answers, staring at her feet.

“Let’s go then,” moving his hand from her elbow, Levi grabs her by the sleeve of her hoodie. He starts walking, dragging Hange along. And because her eyes are still cast down, Hange doesn’t notice that they aren’t headed to a classroom until it’s a little too late.

Of course, Levi leads her to the roof.

He sits her down and looks at her expectantly. Hange shifts her gaze to a side. Under Levi's intense stare, something stirs inside her. There is worry in his eyes, Hange realizes. This revelation makes butterflies in her stomach slowly come to life.

Hange tries her best to ignore them.

"I'm fine, really," she repeats. She doesn't know who she's trying to fool - Levi or herself. She doesn’t achieve success with either of them.

The harsh wind is stronger on the roof, it blows through her hair, gets under her hoodie and sips deep in her bones. Hange suppresses a shiver.

"Idiot," Levi mutters, following it with an irritated tsk. He unzips his jacket, takes it off and drapes it around her shoulders.

Heat rises to her cheeks instantly. She feels incredibly warm and she knows that the jacket isn't the reason for it. The butterflies, despite her best efforts, happily flutter their wings.

"You'll catch a cold..." she whispers weakly. Levi is wearing a thin grey pullover and Hange can only imagine how cold he must be.

"Ackermans don't get sick," he says confidently, making Hange snicker. The corners of his lips twitch and he gently nudges her. "So what happened, four-eyes?"

Hange looks up, staring at the horizon. The skies seem even darker up there, and she briefly wonders how much time they can spend here until the rain starts and a need to hide from it forces them inside.

She wraps the jacket tighter around herself, and the sharp scent enters her nostrils. It smells like soap and cigarette smoke. It smells just like Levi.

Hange glances at him, and his stare is unwavering as he waits for her to start talking.

Hange sighs and begins.

"It's my dad," she confesses softly. "He's... getting married next week. And—" she chuckles, meaning for it to sound easy and cheerful. It comes out bitter and hollow instead. "I found out about that from his post on Facebook. He didn't invite me, didn't even tell me about this. I know— I know that he has a new family now. And I know that I probably remind him of the time when he was married to my mom, and I guess it wasn't a great experience for either of them, but still... he threw me out of his life so easily. It makes me sad, I guess."

"It's his loss," Levi says. "If he doesn't realize it, then he doesn't deserve you."

"Levi..." Hange whispers, aghast. She expected him to ignore her whining, or call her pathetic, but this… Hange doesn’t what to think. The warm feeling inside her is almost too much to bear.

"I know I'm not the best with words," Levi admits, while Hange is still busy processing his last ones and how good they made her feel. "But I can call Isabel, if you wish. Or that Berner boy," he adds with a tight-lipped expression.

Hange smiles, touched by his offer. But she talked it through already, last night with her mother. Today, she needs something else.

"Can we stay like this, please?" she asks, looking at him beneath her eyelashes.

"Sure," he agrees easily. And then— Levi does the unexpected again. He wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer. Her nose is pressed against his collarbone, and the butterflies go wild.

Hange pays them no mind. Levi is warm and he smells nice. She hides a smile into his shirt.

The sadness she felt throughout the morning disappears. With Levi's arms around her, Hange feels impossibly happy.

***

It's almost seven in the evening, and the streets are already dark when Hange leaves the school after another biology club meeting.

The alleyway next to the school is dimly lit, so Hange almost misses a figure that sits on one of the benches. She stops as soon as she sees that dark silhouette, though. Despite the poor street lighting and her own imperfect eyesight, Hange recognizes him instantly. And wonders what is he doing there.

Levi walks her home every day, except Fridays. Fridays are club meeting days, and Hange often leaves the school late in the evening.

Levi never waits for her on Fridays.

So why is he here now?

Hange silently walks up to him, approaching him with a bit of caution. Levi sits weirdly, his shoulders seem too stiff. Her stomach churns with worry.

"Levi?" she softly calls. "Levi, what are you doing here?"

"Hange," he keeps his eyes trained on the ground, and Hange's worry increases. She doesn't like the hollowness of his voice.

Then she lowers her gaze, and the worry skyrockets. Levi's hands— they are covered in blood. She gasps and grabs his chin, turning his face to the light. A bloodied lip, a bruise on a cheek - Hange swears when she sees them.

"What happened?" she is instantly by his side, taking his hands into hers. She brings them closer to her face, looking for injuries.

"Zeke." Levi says.

"He's the one who did all of this to you?"

"Of course not," Levi throws her a sharp, offended look. "He just brought more friends than I could deal with."

"What a fucker," Hange mutters, anger warming up inside her. "Let's go to my place, I'll clean your wounds."

"And what about your mother?" Levi bites his lip. "Won't you get in trouble with her, if you bring me home, looking like this?"

"She has a night shift," Hange stands up, outstretching her hand to Levi. "And besides," she continues. "I’m sure my mom would adore you,” she winks at Levi, grinning. “Just like I do.”

***

Hange brings Levi home and tends to his wounds. She cleans his skinned knuckles and wipes the blood from his lip. She tries to be gentle, apologizing over and over each time Levi winces. Every time he hisses or grits his teeth, the anger inside Hange grows bigger and bigger. She swears to herself that she won’t let Zeke get away with it.

When she starts wrapping bandages around his knuckles, her hands shake and tremble.

She wants to think that her inexperience is to blame, but she knows that the reason for her nervousness is Levi's warm breath on her cheek and his eyes that follow her every move.

Hange stares into them for a second. They look nothing like a knife's edge right now. They don't remind her of a sky before storm either. They're the color of a full moon. They're shining just as brightly.

"You're wrapping them too tight," Levi complains, breaking Hange out of her reverie.

"Oh, sorry!" Hange giggles, embarrassed. She hurries to rectify her mistake, but ends up making even a bigger mess, tangling up the bandages.

Levi sighs and snatches them out of her hands.

"You're shit at this," he says, bandaging his knuckles himself.

Hange snickers and watches him, committing each move to memory. She hopes she won’t need this knowledge in the future. But in case she does, next time she wants to be able to help.

“You can stay for the night,” Hange offers when his injuries are cared for. “We can put on a movie, make some popcorn…”

“Maybe, some other time,” Levi gently declines. “My mom probably worries like crazy. I should get home, before she sends Kenny after me.”

His refusal disappoints Hange a bit, but she doesn’t take it personally. She knows how much Levi cares about his mother. And she knows how much he hates causing her worry.

So she makes him promise to hang out tomorrow and walks him to the door.

"Thank you," Levi tells her, standing in the doorway.

"I didn't do anything..." she tries to protest.

"You did more than enough,” he says, the grey of his eyes softening. “Goodnight, Hange.”

“Goodnight,” she echoes, watching him go with a heavy heart.

***

After that Friday, Hange lets her anger brew for a whole weekend.

On Monday, she comes to school and seeks out Zeke. His friends stand around him, as she approaches, but Hange pays them no mind. She marches up to Zeke, grabs him by the collar and punches him in the face.

His loud shriek and a pathetic whimper that follows are absolutely priceless.

"That's for Levi," she glowers, before walking away, a smirk on her lips and her head held up high.

She gets sent to detention for that, but Levi calls her an idiot with a fond smile on his face, and Hange thinks it was all worth it.

He gets into a fight with Floch the very same day, and during detention they sit side by side, exchanging silly notes and making funny faces at each other.

"Just one condition left," Isabel tells her the next day, winking suggestively.

***

It is another Friday night, and Hange is engaged in a losing battle with her calculus homework. No matter what she does, what formula uses, nothing seems to work.

Her eyes are getting tired from glaring at her notebook, and Hange rubs at them, suppressing a yawn. It’s a little past ten, but she already feels exhausted, drained to the bone.

She thinks of just abandoning it all and going to sleep, when a small rock lands on her desk. Hange blinks a few times, utterly confused.

How did it get here?

She scratches her head, trying to make sense of it. A second later, another rock appears.

Hange looks up, turns to the window— and smile breaks on her face. She squeals in delight, jumping to her feet and coming to grip the windowsill.

Levi is sitting on a branch of a tree that grows near her house. He wears his signature jacket, and he’s looking at Hange with the expression of fond annoyance that he reserves exclusively for her.

“Took you long enough to notice me,” he grumbles. “I was thinking of aiming the next rock at your stupid head.”

Hange laughs, not taking his words to heart. She knows Levi well enough by now to see through his insults and sarcasm.

“Are you free right now?” he asks, before Hange gets her chance to question what is he doing up on a tree.

“It’s Friday night and I’m sick of doing my homework, so…” she shrugs. “I am as free as I can be.”

“Alright. And your mom? Is she at home?”

“She is, but she’s already asleep.”

“Get out then.”

“Eh? What does that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Levi scoffs. The confused expression doesn’t leave her face, so he rolls his eyes and adds, “I stole the keys to Kenny’s bike. Do you want to take a ride on it or not?”

Hange feels her lips twitching. She wants to say ‘yes’ so badly, but for the sake of messing with Levi, she puts on a doubtful frown.

“Won’t you get in trouble with your uncle?”

“Only if he finds out.”

“Will he be able to find out?”

“Most certainly.”

"And you still wanna do it?" she asks, just to see the exasperated look Levi throws her.

"Of course," he answers through his teeth, his patience starting to run thin.

"Alright!" she finally agrees. She jumps and clasps her hands together, unable to contain her excitement. "Just wait a sec, I need to change my clothes!"

Levi nods, throws ‘don’t take too long’ and starts climbing off a tree.

Just as she promised, Hange gets ready in record time. She jumps out of the window, landing next to Levi with a pained huff.

"Are you alright?" he steadies her, his eyes shadowed with worry.

"Sure!" Hange assures him with a smile. "The landing was just a bit rougher than I expected."

"You could have left through the front door, like a normal person." Levi notes.

"But where is the fun in that?" Hange counters.

Levi shakes his head and curses her idiocy under his breath. Hange claps his shoulder and chuckles.

"Shall we go?" she raises her arms to tie up her hair.

"Don't." Levi blurts out suddenly.

Hange stops in her tracks, gawking at him. "Eh?"

"Leave it like that," his voice is rough and breathy as he speaks. Levi turns his face away, and Hange desperately wishes to know what it looks like right now. She bets it’s all red and flustered. "When you wear your hair down... It’s not a bad look on you."

Hange can't believe it. Did she mishear? Misunderstood something? Or did Levi really just pay her a compliment?

Now it’s her turn to be flustered. She feels her face redden. Her heart starts to hummer in her chest.

Levi doesn’t give her enough time to process, and, of course, to retaliate.

"I parked the bike near your house," he walks away so briskly, it's hard for Hange to catch up.

When she does, Levi is already standing next to a shining black motorcycle. Hange knows next to nothing about motorcycles, but, in her opinion, the thing looks cool. She runs a hand over it, and her excitement almost makes her feel dizzy.

She has never ridden a motorcycle. But she is sure it's quite a thrilling experience.

"Put that on," Levi instructs, handing her a helmet. "And hold on to me, alright?"

"Of course!" Hange mockingly salutes.

"Don't do anything stupid, four-eyes," he glowers before putting a helmet on his own head and getting onto the bike.

Hange waits for him to sit down and then she follows his suit. She wraps her arms around Levi, fisting her hands into the lapels of his leather jacket.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice muffled by a helmet.

Hange nods, pressing her head to his shoulder.

Levi starts the motorcycle and carefully rides onto the street. He maneuvers out of the narrow path and onto the broad road. He speeds up after that and Hange can't hold in a delighted chuckle. She raises her head and looks around.

The streets they pass by are nothing more than a blur of bright lights and vivid colors, and Hange can't stop staring at it all. To make the experience even more electrifying, she's pressed so close to Levi that she can feel his heartbeat. Or, maybe, that's an echo of her own. Their proximity makes it hard to tell. She also feels incredibly warm, having her arms wrapped around him makes Hange forget about the harsh wind that seems even stronger as they ride through the night city.

Levi obviously has a final destination in mind, but Hange doesn't care, not right now, when she is filled with so much joy and elation.

She feels so free, she feels so good, so happy, she is so—

"I swear to god, Hange!" Levi shouts over the wind. "If you're thinking of dangling your arms in the air or some equally dumb shit, I'm going to throw you off this thing myself!"

Hange laughs, wild and unbridled.

She is so in love.

*** Levi brings them to the beach.

As soon as he stops the engine, Hange gets off the bike and runs to the sea, kicking away her shoes as she goes. She steps into the water and yells, instantly jumping out of it. The water is freezing, but Hange is stubborn. She wants to try again, hoping that her body would adjust. Before she can take a single step in that direction, though, she is roughly yanked back.

She turns around and meets Levi's sizzling gaze.

"Sit the fuck down," he growls. "Or you wish to get pneumonia?"

Hange can't help it - her heart swells and her stomach tingles.

Levi, despite his dark, scary eyes and scowling face, is surprisingly endearing. He's so cute Hange wants pinch his cheek. Desperately so.

And because she's still filled with adrenaline after their ride, or, maybe, the dark sea and quiet night have an effect on her, Hange does just that.

Levi slaps her hand away a second too late. She laughs, and, to placate him, finally sits down, burying her feet in the sand.

Levi takes a seat next to her. A second later, something heavy and warm falls over her shoulders. Hange touches it with her fingers - it's Levi's jacket.

"It's cold," he explains gruffly, answering the silent question in her eyes.

"Thanks," Hange smiles, and, because she still feels inexplicably bold, she puts her head on his lap.

Levi startles, his whole body goes rigid, but he doesn't push her away, doesn't even complain. After a moment, he relaxes - his hand falls on her shoulder and his fingers starts playing with her hair.

It's nice, Hange thinks. She wishes to stay in this moment forever.

She turns to look at the sea - the stars and moon are reflecting in the darkness of the water, illuminating a narrow path. She points her finger at it.

"I once believed that if you follow that path during full moon, you'll become a mermaid," she tells Levi.

Levi snorts. "You believed in something so stupid? Why am I not surprised?"

"What ridiculous thing did you believe in?"

Levi is silent for a long moment, and Hange thinks he's not going to answer. She opens her mouth to change the topic, but then—

"I believed in Santa until I was thirteen years old."

"What?!" Hange shrieks, rising up from her position to gawk at Levi. "You're serious?"

"Unfortunately," he grunts, pushing her back on his lap. "Kenny put a very convincing show. It's not until I caught my mom hiding presents under a Christmas tree that I finally realized the truth."

Hange really, really tries to keep it in, but she imagines the disappointment on Levi's face and absolutely loses it. Laughter bubbles out of her throat, and Hange curls in on herself, laughing without abandon. Her stomach starts to hurt, tears well up in the corners of her eyes, and Hange still continues to giggle, expressing her mirth until she can't breathe anymore.

"Oh god, Levi," she wipes the tears away. "This is the best thing I've heard in weeks."

"Glad you are having fun on my account," he says dryly.

Hange starts laughing again.

When she finally calms down, the silence falls over them.

It's so quiet there, the only sounds are faraway noises of the city and the loud roar of the sea that accompanies the crashing of waves against the shore.

All of it makes Hange feel at peace in a way she rarely does.

After minutes of staring at the seemingly endless sea and basking in the atmosphere of it all, she tears her gaze away from the it, shifting her eyes to Levi. And finds out - he is looking at her too.

His stare is intense, charged with something she can't quite name, something that makes it impossible to look away.

As their eyes meet, Levi swallows. His hand in her hair stills, and he starts to slowly lower his face to hers. Hange lifts her head too. The tension around them is growing, and Hange forgets how to breathe until— until it hits her.

"Of course!" she cries out, jumping up. She hits Levi's jaw with her forehead, but doesn't pause long enough to fully register it. She can't spare her attention to anything else, the math problem she tried to solve for so long— she finally found the solution.

"Levi!" she seizes his shoulders, staring at him with wide, feverish eyes. "We need to go back, quick!"

"What—"

"I realized how to solve it!" she gets to her feet, pacing around and impatiently waiting for Levi to stand up as well.

"Solve what?" Levi grimaces, looking like he has eaten a sour lemon.

Unfortunately, Hange is too preoccupied with her sudden revelation to notice his expression or even answer his question.

"Way to ruin the moment," he mutters before standing up and walking back to the bike, his face as dark as the sea. ***

It's the last Friday before St. Valentine's Day, and everyone at their school starts going crazy.

Hange is spending lunch with Nifa and Moblit, but their sandwiches lay forgotten, as the three of them curiously watch Porco's pathetic attempt to ask Pieck out. He keeps stuttering and his face is so red, Hange is worried he might pass out, but then Pieck smiles and kisses him on a cheek. Cheers and congratulations are heard from all sides of school cafeteria.

"So it's settled then?" Hange turns to Moblit. "Porco and Pieck are actually dating?"

"I guess..." Moblit tentatively agrees.

"I saw Reiner and Porco kissing the other day," Nifa interrupts.

"And I saw Reiner and Berthold hold hands on their way home," Hange mutters, taking a bite from her sandwich.

"I'm not sure," Moblit rubs his neck. "But I think I caught Pieck making out with Yelena the other day."

"So it's still complicated," Nifa mournfully concludes. "At least, their love life is more interesting than mine..."

"Speaking of love," Moblit quietly begins. Both Hange and Nifa whip their heads to stare at him. Moblit's cheeks turn pink, but he stubbornly continues to look at Hange. "I wanted to ask if..."

Whatever he wanted to ask, Hange doesn't get a chance to find out. Because in the next second, a shadow flashes past them. It appears by her side and drapes a leather jacket over her shoulders.

"It's too cold today," Levi explains, as he sits down next to her, inserting himself between Hange and Moblit.

It's not cold at all, and, besides Hange is wearing a warm pullover.

But that's not the only thing that confuses her. What is Levi doing here? Why is he sitting so close to her? And why is he glaring at Moblit?

"Why are you here, Levi?" Hange decides to start with the easiest question.

"Can't find Farlan and Isabel," he answers flippantly, not taking his eyes from Moblit.

Now that's most certainly a lie. Hange can clearly see Isabel and Farlan sitting in their usual spot, in the furthest corner of cafeteria. And even if she didn't turn around to locate them, Isabel's delighted cackling is heard even from a distance.

"It's best if I go," Moblit says, a drop of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"I'll go with you," Nifa offers, taking her trail.

"We are just friends, my ass," she angrily mutters, throwing another exasperated look at Hange and Levi.

Hange turns to Levi as soon as her friends leave, she really, really wants to know what the fuck had just happened, but she opens her mouth in the exact moment that a bell rings.

Levi wordlessly gets up and disappears in the crowd of students. He forgets to take back his jacket.

***

As Hange moves from class to class, everyone keeps staring at her. It’s not bad kind of attention, no one whispers insults behind her back, Erwin actually approaches, offering sincere congratulations, and when she meets Zeke’s gaze in the hallway, she sees a spark of fear there, and it fills her with a deep sense of satisfaction, but— it also makes her confused.

Why did Levi give his jacket to her? Why did he give her his jacket so many times before? Why has she never seen Isabel or Farlan wear it? What makes her special?

Hange always enjoyed solving riddles. She is determined to find a solution to this one as well.

***

After her last class, Hange rushes to the rooftop. Just as she expected, Levi is there. And, luckily, he’s all alone.

He’s smoking, but as soon as he notices her presence, he puts the cigarette out and waves his hand, getting rid of the smoke.

Sitting beside him, Hange shoots him a grateful smile.

“So did you know about the dance they’re organizing this weekend?” she begins, skipping the pleasentries and small talk. As she speaks, she tilts her head to the side to stare at Levi’s profile. In the light of a setting sun, he looks even more handsome. Her heart picks up its speed. She ignores it and forces words out of her throat. “Do you wish to go?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Hange wonders, not saddened by his answer at all. She was expecting nothing else, after all. “Just imagine – me in a dress and with shitty, smeared lipstick and you in a shirt and tie… We’ll be dancing in a stuffy auditorium, drinking spiced punch and having fun with our peers…”

Levi visibly shudders at her words. “I’d rather jump off this roof.”

Hange snickers in her palm. “And if I go with Moblit?” she asks, watching Levi with a sly smile.

“I’ll throw him off this roof.”

That’s exactly the answer Hange was expecting. Even so, her heart does a flip and her breathing speeds up. Her cheeks feel hot and a wide grin is pulling on her lips. The scariest part is over, but the nerves don’t die out. There are still a few questions she needs answers to.

“And if I asked you out to the movies…”

“That’s not a bad idea…” Levi mumbles, keeping his eyes trained on his feet.

Hange gathers the last of her courage.

“And if I kissed you right now?”

Her heart stops, as she nervously waits for a reply. Millennia pass before she hears Levi’s gruff voice.

“That’s… a very good idea.”

He turns to her, staring at her and the intensity of his piercing gaze makes Hange weak in the knees. There is a moment, where nothing happens, but it lasts for no longer than a heartbeat. Then Levi cups her cheek and moves closer, his lips hovering above hers.

Hange closes her eyes and shortens the small distance that separates them.

The kiss is short, chaste and more than a little bit awkward. Even so, it’s the first kiss in her life and Hange lets her lips linger on Levi’s for a little longer, savoring that moment and committing it to her memory.

When they pull apart, Levi doesn’t let her go. If anything he brings her even closer, bumping their foreheads together.

His eyes are warm and soft, and Hange isn’t sure if she had seen anything more beautiful. But then she lets her eyes wander, slipping lower, and she sees a smile that blooms on his face. She can’t decide what she likes to stare at more – his eyes or his smile. After a second of intense debating, Hange comes to conclusion that both his eyes and his smile are equally breathtaking.

She thinks of asking for another kiss, when she remembers something just as important.

“I finally did it, Levi!” she loudly announces, throwing her hands in the air. “I fulfilled the fourth condition!”

Levi pushes her away with a groan. “Why must you always ruin the atmosphere…” he wonders with a deep scowl on his face.

To be honest, Hange liked it better when he smiled. But, luckily, now she knows a sure way to placate him.

With a gentle smile on her lips, she pulls him closer for another kiss.

#types 9k of the cheesiest dialogues ever written and peppers it with lots of cliche: it's time to post a new fic :)#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years ago

Text

(pt. i) (pt. ii)

She keeps to the darkness, keeps quiet, and keeps her distance, just the way she’s been trained to. She watches Lena, and she does it quite well. The difficult part is settling on the one thing that she should be learning from these endeavors.

Lena does a great many things throughout her day—often up before the sun, and only homeward bound long after it’s set. But after three long days of research, there’s one feature in particular that seems to warrant the most attention: a dark fleck, nestled in the pale expanse of her vulnerable throat.

When she tries to encapsulate the entirety of that observation into words at her disposal, however, all she can manage is, “Lena, not ugly.”

Lex doesn’t reply for a long while, which isn’t typical of him. But his tone isn’t unkind when he finally asks, “Is that it?”

“Yes.” She frowns, because why couldn’t that be it?

But Lex sighs, and that soft sound uproots her peace at its very core. “I wanted you to bring me a fact,” he says. “Not develop an opinion.”

“Different how?” she demands.

“Well, I need evidence.” Lex takes her hand, turning it over to reveal her palm, forever marked and marred from her most recent encounter with Kryptonite. “I need you to show me something. Something real. Otherwise, it doesn’t count. Do you understand?”

And yes, that much is definitely understandable. Even to her.

With much repurposed effort, she watches and waits while Lena does her work. Then she watches Lena take her leave, then waits some more.

It’s only when the top floor of the building is emptied of all people that she flies over, slipping into Lena’s office through the balcony door that’s never locked. From there, it doesn’t take long to secure what she’s looking for.

The next time Lex pays her a visit, she drops an armful of her spoils right at his feet.

“Lena likes coffee,” she announces boldly.

Lex is clearly taken aback at first, blinking and still. But then he grabs one of the many empty coffee cups now littered across the floor, and a slow smile dawns on his face. “All right then. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She grins so wide that it strains the corners of her lips.

“Lena is cold,” she says the next time they meet, presenting a delicate black glove for his amusement and perusal.

“Yes, well, most people are when it snows,” Lex says.

“Not me.”

“Well, you’re not exactly most people now, are you?” Lex’s pride in her is absolutely infectious, so she grins. “Of course not. You’re… exquisite.”

“Good thing?” she asks. It’s usually the first question that wells up inside of her upon hearing new words.

“A very good thing,” Lex says with a playful wink.

Over the last two weeks, Lex’s visits have dropped from often to somewhat often enough, his precious attention now divided between her and another project of his. It’s been a near impossible change for her to weather, but moments like this make it a little easier.

That is, until Lex slips the glove on.

She watches him flex his fingers one by one, forcing the taut leather to crackle loudly in her ears, and retreats somewhere deep inside herself. She fights determinedly against the frown threatening to twist her features into something uglier.

The glove isn’t hers. It isn’t Lex’s either, but his hand fits so perfectly that it could very well be his if he wanted.

“Not actually all that warm,” Lex comments, snorting when he peeks inside the glove. “And yet, pricier than your average first class ticket to Paris… Tsk, a little superficial, if you ask me.”

She nods as appropriate, but most of her concern is still with the glove and how Lex stuffs it into his back pocket like it doesn’t mean a thing.

“Yes, her hair is indeed very long,” Lex says, accepting the offering of Lena’s hairbrush, complete with stray strands of dark hair still caught in its teeth as ample proof for this careful observation. “This, Bizarrogirl, is absolutely perfect.”

And it is. Because this isn’t just a handful of coffee cups tossed in the trash or a lone glove left behind in the snow during a hasty commute. No, this is something she actually had to break into Lena’s apartment for, in the middle of a workday, undetected even in broad daylight.

But even all that and more couldn’t outweigh the very simple fact that Lex has the means to kill her now.

Evidently, a big part of his new project has been synthesizing a strain of Kryptonite that would only be lethal to her, and he must have succeeded because today, he’s armed with blue-tipped syringes that can pierce her skin.

It’s for research purposes. It’s the only way that Lex can collect blood samples so as to better study her molecular makeup, which will only help her in the long run. Lex, of course, would never hurt her.

Except it does hurt. Each needle sinks into her arm in an acute twinge, and she can feel the aftereffects of the breach crawling inside her head. It’s worse than the green light. It makes her stomach dry out like a rock, and tugs cool drops of sweat onto the surface of her skin.

But Lex must notice this sudden unrest living inside her because he lets her keep the hairbrush.

“Mine?” she asks, cradling the brush in her hands. It’s been relieved of all traces of Lena, but that doesn’t matter. She’s seen Lena use it enough times that it’s still rightly precious.

“No, it’s still Lena’s,” Lex corrects her with a gentle smile. “But you can keep it,” which is the best possible answer he could have given her.

She’s watching Lena unwind at home from her favorite spot in the sky, drawing from her x-ray vision and super-hearing with an ease that is now very practiced.

Everything is pleasantly routine until Kara knocks on Lena’s door, which is still very routine until they start raising their voices at each other. They exchange some words that she doesn’t quite understand with many implications that perhaps she will never understand. Then Supergirl is leaving through the balcony, flying off into the night in a blur of boastful blues and reds, while Lena is left behind to yell at herself and cry in unpredictable bursts.

Eventually, Lena settles in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of something that makes the air taste bitter. She’s halfway through her third glass when she slumps forward, her head dropped into her folded arms, breath gradually slowing and deepening.

She watches Lena sleep, waiting until the waiting is unbearable. There are all sorts of reasons why she shouldn’t, but she touches down onto the balcony, sidling into the apartment like a fleeting shadow, and finds herself in Lena’s presence for the very first time.

The bitter taste is stronger in her nose now, but so is everything else to be perceived about Lena. Everything from her soft snores to the slight warmth her body gives off once within reach.

And she risks that everything for a single touch, brushing her fingertips right where Lena’s long hair starts to end. It’s light, yet stirs something pure, frenzied, and fluttering in her chest. Then Lena sniffles and mumbles into her own arm, “… Kara?” and the moment spills into reality.

Teeth bared, she plucks the glass from Lena’s fragile grip with just enough care that it doesn’t shatter and leaves the same way Supergirl had barely an hour before.

She sets the glass before Lex with a firm clack! that calls his attention away from his tablet.

“Oh hello…” Lex sits up with a small chuckle. “And what’s this? Are we celebrating?”

“Lena is sad.”

Lex is out of his chair, his stare wild as he promptly demands, “What happened? What did you see?”

“Kara came. They talked… Supergirl left.” She squeezes her right fist, digging her nails into her palm the way she’s supposed to when things overwhelm her. “And… Lena is sad.”

Lex bursts into laughter. He doesn’t stop laughing for the rest of the night.

She doesn’t want to learn things about Lena anymore.

Things are so different now. Lena is quieter, often alone. She spends most of her time at work and not nearly enough time maintaining habits that are meant to keep her alive.

But Lex still insists that she keep watch, so she does, and she still does it so well. She works at it even harder, in fact, now that his visits have become even fewer and farther in between as of late. Lex’s other project is supposedly not as important as she is, but it siphons off his time like it must be.

Lena’s new routine is polished, heavily sanitized, and well-established until the night she breaks it in favor of tasting the nighttime air. She steps onto her balcony in clothes made for sleep and with a glass filled with something more sweet than bitter. Her eyes narrow up at the darkened sky. She stares, as if expectant.

“Hello…? Is somebody out there?” Lena rests her elbows precariously against the railing, sighing between intermittent sips of her drink. Then, in a softened voice, “… Who are you?” And all of a sudden, Lena’s become tangible and more than just another person waiting for Supergirl to save her.

Bizarrogirl glides from shadow to shadow, trailing the darkness all the way down to the far corner of the balcony, where she settles in, secluded and silent. Lena doesn’t turn around, but her heartbeat is readily transparent enough for the both of them that it doesn’t matter. “Hello, Lena,” she says.

Lena sighs into her glass. “So, are you the one stealing my things then?”

“Yes.”

“You know… I really thought I was just going crazy. That I was just conjuring up senseless conspiracies because god forbid I ever misplace something like a normal person.” Lena pauses to take a small sip of her drink and chuckle. “But then, you went ahead and took my favorite glass right out of my hand, so…”

She smiles, even though she knows no one can see it. “You are smart.”

“Allegedly,” Lena says, shrugging. She looks over her shoulder, blinks blearily right into the darkness. “You’re really not going to show yourself, huh?”

“No. Never.” She holds her breath, but the follow-up question never comes.

Instead, Lena just turns back around with a small nod. “Believe me, I’d be doing the same thing if I could,” she says quietly, and leaves it at that.

“Not… scared?” she finally has to ask.

“Should I be?”

She shakes her head after some hesitation. “No.”

“Well, there we go then,” Lena says, rubbing at her eyes with a resigned sigh. “Listen… I’m just… so tired right now, and frankly, I just don’t have it in me to address whatever it is you’re trying to do. But to be honest—” she tosses back the last of her drink in a single swallow—“I have enough things. So… consider this a freebie.”

“… Freebie?”

Lena pushes off the railing, exhaling half-hearted laughter. “Yes, freebie. I’m leaving this for you right here, okay? No need to resort to petty theft or breaking and entering.” She sets the empty wineglass right outside her door, but pauses before stepping through. “… So, what’s your name anyway?”

The most obvious answer—so carefully practiced, her clumsy mouth sounding out the word over and over again for her own sake—feels wrong in the moment. A lie, somehow, in the face of Lena’s undeserved generosity.

“You do have a name, don’t you?” Lena glances over, head tilted curiously, and their eyes almost meet despite all the darkness cast between them.

“No,” she manages to say, her fingernails biting fiercely into her own palm.

Lena gives a hum, one so thoughtful and reminiscent of her brother. “Well… that’s something you’ll have to steal from someone else, I’m afraid.”

She watches Lena slide the door shut behind her, but waits until all the lights disappear before reaching for the glass.

It takes two more days for Lex to pay her another visit, and he walks into her room to find her turning the wineglass over and over in her hands. He frowns when she doesn’t immediately offer it up to him.

“So, did you learn anything?” Lex asks, and she just nods. “… And…?”

She rolls her right hand into a fist so tight that her entire hand feels like a bruise. “Not. Scared.”

“Lena’s… not scared.” Lex studies the wineglass carefully before directing his sharp gaze back at her face. “I see.”

He doesn’t ask for further clarification, or any other question, or anything at all, for that matter. He just leaves, and she feels nothing about it.

#i started writing this for one (1) specific scene #and that scene's... apparently just never coming #anyway this is exactly 2150 words because hashtag kicksngigglestm #my words.

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nafeary · 4 years ago

Text

Napoleon, Theo, Dazai, and Jean reacting to College Student!MC Stressed by Deadlines

Requested by @hqissodelicate:

hey toni boo, sara/delicateikemenmemes here ❤ i've been Going Through It with school 😔 so i was thinking of how my boos napoleon, theo, dazai & jean would react to MC who's a (stressed, exhausted) student who got yeeted to the mansion in the midst of a bunch of deadlines? thank you boo & i hope you're drinking your water 💙😤

✧✎ A/N: I’m sorry it took me this long to finish... but this was super fun to write and it helped me get back into writing after such a long break due to school bs. I’m not too satisfied with Dazai’a and the haphazard scenario/headcanons mush, but I still quite like this I think. Thank you for the request dear! Take care and drink water, everyone!

Warnings: Stress and mild mentions of anxiety, and like one mention of sexual intercourse

Napoleon Bonaparte

“You’re just a chore, after all.”

You whirled around. “Don’t act like your job is going to be that hard,” you could only scoff in annoyance, “I’m going to be inside my room all day, anyway.”

At first, Napoleon was slightly confused by your statement. Wouldn’t you want to explore this new world at all? But according to code, he’d just smirk and go (sleep) do smth

And true to your statement, you did stay inside your room for the most part

It’s not like your quadrillion essays would write themselves

It’s not like your college would just excuse your tardiness

It’s not like—

“Nunuche, you sure you don’t need a break from... whatever you’re doing?”

Napoleon was quite suddenly standing besides you, trying to read the mess that you’ve created.

“And who gave you permission to enter?”

“Me, obviously. I did have the impression that you were in danger, judging from the amount of curses I perceived.”

You could have died from embarrassment. Of course he had to hear your yells of frustration, stemming from the fact that your laptop was out of order, that you had no idea how to use ink properly, and—

“Have you realised that you regularly zone out?”

“I suppose? But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to finish...” you trailed off, gesturing to the papers in front of you.

However, at his inquisitive gaze, you decided to explain that these were essays that could very well decide how you’d pass university, and, upon further inquiry, elaborated how a modern student’s life looked like

He never interrupted you unnecessarily, only to ask questions when a concept was too modern for him to comprehend

Your cursed assignments certainly made your life in the past harder to enjoy, but it also brought you and the emperor closer than ever

Unable to access the internet—or visit the college library—you had no proper sources for you references (considering that Comte’s library had no modern content, naturally)

You also didn’t want to bother Sebastian, especially since him and Comte had shown so much understanding for your peril that they practically forbid you from helping him out around the mansion

Their reasoning didn’t make you feel less bad though

Hence, you only had one option left that could complete your last essay

Which oh-so conveniently encompasses the Napoleonic Wars, something you truly did not want to burden him with

“Napoleon? Remember those essays that I have to finish for my university courses?”

“Of course.”

You were twiddling your thumbs, contemplating whether your grades are worth revisiting unpleasant memories, aka the taboo of the mansion

Abruptly, he grabbed your cheeks with just enough force to turn you away from looking at your feet, but not enough to inflict pain. “If there is anything I can help you with, I’d never shy away from it.”

Begrudgingly, you inquired him about his reign with as little focus on the gruesome details as possible your professor be damned

And holy shit, he’s amazing at writing? And Not just cringey love letters? Panty Sniffer Napoleon brrrrr

As you grew closer, he’s spoil you with vitamin-rich snacks (going as far as asking Arthur and Sebastian for medical advice)

He enjoys carving cute shapes out of fruits and eggs because he knows that their and his adorable presence will prompt the perfect amount of distraction to allow a small moment of rest

Says that it’s his duty as your guard and boyfriend to take care of your overworking habits

Expect frequent complaints from your beau, ranging from “how could they assign so many essays? Aren’t students just humans, too?” to “‘Reasons Why Edison Is Better Than Newton’? Do they even know what they’re talking about? Tch!”

Theodorus Van Gogh

You gleefully indulged in his charades for the first few days. They were a welcome distraction from your college work, after all

But the procrastination was accompanied by guilt, your anxiety building up every second you spent helping Sebastian with the chores, and gallivanting around town with Theo

A week passed before your sense of responsibility finally kicked in. So when Sebas came to wake you up just as the sun peaked past the horizon, you were already scribbling away on some sheets you’d found in your drawers

“Ah, good morning, Sebastian-san.”

“Good morning... what are you writing, if I may ask?”

“Just some essays for my college courses...” you said, glancing dejectedly at your notes.

Now that you didn’t have access to the internet, and your laptop’s battery was all used up, it made your work all the more tedious, but you had to set your teeth and do this.

“Give me 10 minutes, and I’ll join you in the kitchen.”

He had wanted to argue, but you didn’t let him. And when he saw you leaving the house with Theo later in the afternoon, he could only shake his head.

You felt like you owed the art dealer, especially since you blurted out his secret the literal next moment, so you committed to helping him while also keeping up with your work

Although, him calling you dog wasn’t nice either—even though, according to Sebas’ explanation, Hondje wasn’t exactly the equivalent to mutt

That cycle continued for days. Helping out around the mansion, getting pulled around by Theo, and writing your essays deep into the night

Not to mention all the worries that pressured your shoulders further and further into the ground

You were missing so many group project deadlines, disappointing people that relied on you... it was safe to say that sleep did not come easy, if barely

Just before you arrived at your room after a late night art exhibit did your body decide to fail you, tripping over nothing multiple times.

It prompted Theo to call you out before you could even think of rushing past the door, steadying you with a hand more gentle than you had ever experienced it to be.

“Sebas informed me that you’ve been working yourself to death.”

You silently cursed the butler. “I haven’t—“

“Give me your laptop.”

Perplexion ran across your mien, wondering how he could possibly have remembered such a modern detail from your countless rambles. “It’s batt— it doesn’t work right now, so it’s not like it would stop me from working.”

Arguing with the devil was a mistake.

He snaked his arms around you, holding the door handle in place with one hand while the other still kept you upright. “I don’t care whether you work or not, I’m not your mother. And regardless of its abilities, hand it over, knabbletje.”

What other choice did you have but to comply?

He ordered—yes, ordered—you to go to bed right that instant

If you hesistanly ask him to do the same (we all know what a hard worker he is), he’ll just press a guileless kiss to your forehand, telling you not to worry about him

The next morning, you were already worrying for your baby’s safety within the sadist’s hands when the devil invited himself into your room

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Morning to you, too, Hondje.” He sent you an overly handsome smirk, handing you the laptop tucked underneath his arms. “You won’t be able to use that spider web Sebas told me about, but writing should work.”

You stared at Theo in disbelief, all the while internally laughing at him misinterpreting the World Wide Web. Deciding to trust in him, you clicked the power button. And sure enough, it sprang to life. “What... how in the world did you...”

Leo overheard you and Sebas talking about solar energy sometime… hush, just run with it

He fell into the seat next to you, propping his chin upon his fist. “I didn’t do anything. Just asked Sebas whether there was a way for you to use this. Leonardo took notice and tinkered around with it. Don’t ask—ah!”

You threw your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you for taking care of me, Theo.”

Would you have lifted your face, then you’d have caught a glimpse of the vermillion shading his cheeks. “I didn’t do it to help you. I simply can’t risk having you become a liability at work. That’s all.”

Anyway, tsundere tendencies aside, you know what another big factor of dating Theo is?

King if you’re not allergic, understandably, if so, he’ll change his clothes before even thinking of visiting you

On days that you decide to be especially stubborn, he pulls you outside, all the whilst whistling for the jolly golden retriever

And as soon as he comes running, your mind goes brrrrr cute dog

Although, he’ll try his best not to distract you from work. He knows from personal experience that it’s a much bigger annoyance than help

Thus, he’ll certainly use his connections and amiable rip Shakes relationships with the residents to help you out with the research process

Also, with his superior memory, he knows what generally makes you happy and relaxed, so he’ll be his usual observant self to decipher just what would help you perfectly relax/finish your work

Hardworking boi, please love him

Dazai Osamu

Dazai is the type of person that doesn’t mind upsetting people and risking someone’s disdain if it supports that person in the long run

And he’s able to read people like books, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he knows you’re overwhelmed before you even realize it

You’ve been going to sleep too late and waking up too early? He’ll gently force you (if you’re 100% against it, he won’t do it ofc) to sleep beside him, making sure that you won’t rise with the sun for once

You’ve been exposing your wrist to heavy sprain? He’ll teach you some handy-dandy 5 Min Crafts techniques that are guaranteed to send your hands on a vacation

You've been suffering from writer’s block? Time to go on a lovely stroll through nature with your boo

Your shoulders and neck are hurting beyond sanity? He swears by hot springs, so the thermae is his go-to for when you need to relive some muscle kinks

He never fails to procure the perfect amount of bubbles and temperature. And depending on how comfortable you are with it, he’ll offer to wash your hair.

And since dude got Disney princess hands, you most probably fall asleep, but our man is there to hold you above the water

His bare thighs are an added bonus, sending your mind into spirals faaaar away from college work

After you’re done bathing, he’ll ask you whether you’d like him to braid your hair (if it’s long enough), and his Disney princess hands will not disappoint

In the beginning, it was incredibly vexing to have a security cam in the form of a handsome man always on the qui vive

But at some point, you started embracing Dazai’s overwhelmingly passive—you knew exactly what he was doing whenever he’d do something random—protectiveness

Especially since it didn’t only help you complete your work; on the contrary, you were always excited to spend time with the Japanese writer

But that didn’t curb your confusion at the whole debacle. Why was he this focused on your well-being?

So, you decided to confront him

“Dazai?” Once again, you were relaxing in his arms, his fingers threading through your hair lulling you into a dreamlike state.

He ticked his head to the side, pulling your entwined hands closer towards his heart. The sun streamed into the run at just the right angle, yet the golden light was not as bright as his vivid citrine orbs.

You sighed, unable to look at his stupid handsome face for too long. ”Why is it that you insist on taking care of me?”

“Someone has to, Toshiko-san.”

You’d have blurted out your feelings if it wasn’t for the sudden embrace you found yourself in. As guileless as it appeared, you knew he was trying to stop you from acting on your thoughts.

Deciding that you didn’t want to pressure him further (after all, you knew that he had a hellish first life), you accepted the unclarity of his feelings—even though his actions spoke loud enough for you to understand.

It was that day that you decided to repay him for all he’s done for you

And you wouldn’t let him yeet himself through a window in an attempt to evade the love sent his way this time

Even if it took decades, you wanted him to feel just as safe and loved as you did in his company

You were glad to have such a caring man by your side who helps you with managing you self care

You could only hope that he’d allow himself to be treated the same way

Please just take our love, boo. We love you

Jean d’Arc

Well fuck, how could he possibly help someone who’s stressed when he himself is a 24/7 McDonalds that only sells Chicken McStress?

Anywho, I feel like he’d be the complete opposite of Dazai when confronted with a stressed MC

He’d care just as much, of course, but he thinks that it would be better to give her space, since he himself understands the desire for solitude well

So yeah, I can see him not going out of his way to check up on you if you weren’t super duper close friends/lovers IF it wasn’t for his friend Napoleon

After all, it was him who gave your boyfriend a lil talk, convincing him that, perhaps even if someone needs space, they probably still need someone to look after them

Living with Jean is basically Ted Talks everyday

Anyway, he embarked on his journey to hopefully help you and and to relieve some stress that was wearing you down (according to the statement of several residents)

And, finding himself halting abruptly, our pessimistic little bean realised that he’s got zero idea what did help you attain bliss

So he opted for the next best option—things he knew that made his friends relax

Plan A

Hearing a few oddly reluctant raps on your door, you went to open it. As soon as you did, the beautiful man who’d captured your heart entered your vision, your eyes finding his amethyst ones immediately.

You two stayed like that for a moments, only breaking eye contact when he sighed and simultaneously thrusted a mug into your hand, already in the process striding back to his own room.

“Uhm… Jean? I’m a bit busy right now, but would you like to come in?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t you find it inappropriate for a man to enter your room, mademoiselle?”

“Jean,” you giggled at his archaic mindset, gently rubbing your thumb between his brows to even out the crease. “We’ve had sex before, you know. Of course you ca—“

Wrong thing to say. He stormed past you, vermillion cheeks practically leaving a trail.

Chuckling to yourself, you turned to the mug’s contents. “Hm? Hot chocolate?”

Plan B:

“If this doesn’t harbor your discomfort…” Your boyfriend reluctantly stood in your room’s corner, standing straighter than a rod.

Frankly, your essays have kept you entirely too busy, and you longed for the warmth of the French man’s feather-like embrace.

“On the contrary, I enjoy your presence.” And you went right back to scribbling away.

Jean frowned. “Haven’t you been writing stories since this morning?”

“They’re not stories… and, yeah? I believe so.”

Stepping towards your seated form, he extended his hand; you grabbed it without thinking twice. “Is everything alrig—whoa!”

With the ease of a seasoned soldier, he picked you up before haphazardly tugging you into bed with bewilderment maring your features. “You should sleep.”

“—what?”

He stared at you blankly, as if expecting you to fall into the land of dreams right that instant.

“Did something prompt,” you slipped your arms out from underneath the duvets, gesturing wildly, “this?”

It was hard to be upset with Jean, his clueless but genuine persona the reason why you fell for him, yet you couldn’t disguise the irritation coursing through your veins—you had work to return to, after all.

“I think you need to rest, mademoiselle.”

Your blinking made him avert his eyes, explaining quietly, “I am uncertain what supports your release of tension, so I thought that perhaps sleeping could help since it certainly does show affect with Napoleon.”

“Ah, and you made me hot chocolate since that’s what calms Mozart.”

After internally simping for his soft and wholesome dumbass energy, you pulled him to bed beside you, claiming that it would help you relax (but only after telling him that it was okay for him to ask for your preferences)

And falling asleep to the heartbeat underneath his broad chest is definitely a 5-star-resort vacation

He’d eventually ask his relationship advisor Napoleon whether it is okay to have you help them out with his reading/writing lessons (you

You, alongside Napoleon, steadily agreed, despite knowing that it was a ploy to keep you away from overworking

Please also love this boy, thanks

Tag List of the most wonderful sweethearts (just message me if you’d like to be added <3): @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

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Double Heart | Chapter Sixteen ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3021

Warnings: None

A/n Every chapter, you all make me smile so much <3 Thank you!

Haldir leaves and I let out something halfway between an exhale and a groan.

What. Was. That.

My room, which is a very respectable size, felt like a matchbox as the space between Haldir and I minimized. He went from weeks of keeping a consistent physical barrier between us to ghosting his hands over my arms, my hips, my waist…It’s…new.

And when he held me close, his chest so nearly brushing against my back—

I shake my head against the onslaught of scenarios that run through my mind.

I should not be thinking of him this way.

Haldir is a friend, a guide, an instructor, nothing more.

I let out a deep breath and begin to pace, trying to work off this newfound energy. Haldir and I trained for nearly two hours, I should be exhausted. Instead, I feel wide awake, invigorated, jittery, like I couldn’t possibly go to sleep. I groan, taking my hair out of its bun and letting it fall around me. I stop in my tracks, glancing at the spot where Haldir and I stood so close together just moments ago.

I cannot stay here.

I tear through the open door, turning right and taking the staircase that leads to the first floor. I turn left and, before I know it, I’m standing in front of Alex’s closed door.

I knock.

The door creaks open. “Hey,” he greets, opening it wider to allow me in. “What’s up?”

“I uh,” I purse my lips, having not really thought through my plan. I do need a distraction though, and being out of my room is already helping clear the fog from my brain. My eyes catch a pile of books on his nightstand. “I came to help you research, if that’s okay.”

His face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, of course. I’ve read those three so far,” he gestures to a small stack by the window, “and there’s nothing helpful in them. Everything else in English is fair game. Is there anything specific you want to look into?”

“Fæs.” I’m surprised that the answer comes to me so easily, but as soon I speak the word, I know it’s true — I do want to learn more.

Alex nods slowly. “Yeah, okay, I think I’ve got a couple books on that here. Let me….” He trails off, spinning in a circle as he searches for a specific volume. “Ah.” He squats down and grabs a book near the foot of his bed, reaching it up to me.

An image of Haldir, crouched on the ground, hand warm against my ankle, staring up at me with such intensity, so much confidence—

Alex stands and I look to the ceiling, trying to will away the image and the feelings that come rushing along with it.

“What makes you want to learn about fæs? Isn’t that an elf thing?”

I purse my lips, stalling until the embarrassment fades enough to look Alex in the eye. “Haldir mentioned that humans have their own version of a fæ — a little weaker, a little different, but generally the same concept.” An idea begins to take form, and I roll with it. “I was wondering if—assuming that our fæs remained unchanged between our homeworld and Arda—well, if we could use it somehow, tap into it and reclaim our memories. If anything were to remember, wouldn’t it be our spirits?”

Alex nods slowly, a grin tugging at the edges of his lips. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Great thinking! Let me know if you find anything.”

He settles into the couch, leaving the bed for me. Gratefully, I cozy up against the pillows. I open the book, skimming the introductory chapter, which is basically just a summary of the core concepts Haldir has already explained to me. When I’m on chapter three, the sky passes firmly into night, and even the plethora of candles Alex has lit aren’t enough to keep my eyes from straining.

I pull my knees to my chest and lean forward, glancing over at my friend. His cheeks — which had been gaunt when we first reunited, now take a healthy shape. His shoulders no longer hold vestiges of tension — they lean relaxed, leisurely, against the back of the couch. Even in the limited light, he squints his eyes and continues to read, seeming intent on soaking up as much knowledge as he can.

I rest my chin on my knees. “I need to ask you something.”

He looks up, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Okay?”

“Are you alright?”

He sighs, shifting in his seat. “Cosima…”

“No,” I protest. I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable, he needs to talk about things. He’s been bottling it up since he arrived in this world and it hasn’t done anyone any good. “I mean it.”

Alex groans, shaking his head. “Fine, okay. It’s…strange.” He pauses, but I wait, holding out hope that he’ll continue. He does so, slowly. “I’ve…gotten myself to accept that I’m in a different world, but I can’t wrap my mind around the how. That’s stressful. We don’t have a solid plan to return home, nor do we know if we’ll find one. That’s depressing. And, I have flashes and snippets of memories, but otherwise, I feel like I don’t know who I am.”

My heart breaks. Here my friend is, hurting, lost…

And I’ve left him completely alone.

Alex tilts his head to the side, contemplating. “But I do feel better than when we arrived, or even just from a few days ago. Having things to do, feeling useful and like I have agency for the first time…it’s really good for me. And, well,” he dips his head then raises it again, leveling his eyes on me. “It’s helped me realize something else — that I owe you an apology.”

I blink in surprise. I’ve been the one that has pretty much abandoned and ignored him. I should be apologizing.

“On the road, I said some pretty mean things, and I isolated you from your friends and tried to take control. I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I was…” he sighs, shaking his head, “scared out of my mind. I already felt like I couldn’t do anything to fix the problem, and then on top of that I felt like you had completely given up and it was my job to save us both. And I know now that’s not the case, but for a while…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re just more adaptable than I am, I guess.”

I push myself off the bed, cross the room, and sit next to him on the small couch. Automatically, he throws an arm over my shoulder, the movement so familiar and easy that he must have done it a thousand times before. I lay my head on his shoulder, the bone there pressing against my ear.

I take a deep breath. “If we had really been kidnapped, or injured, or anything more realistic than what actually happened,” he gives a small, tired laugh, the movement shaking his shoulder, “you would’ve been the one to get us out. I know it. Even now, you’re the one putting in all the hard work to get us home. I’m sorry I’ve pretty much left you to handle it alone.”

He squeezes my upper arm gently. “I appreciate it, but I don’t blame you. I get it.” He shrugs again, a measure of sadness creeping into his voice. “It’s not like you remember anyone enough to miss them. If you have people you like here, of course you’d focus on them.”

I feel my lips pull into a guilty frown. “They like you too, you know. You all just need to spend some more time together—”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, pushing a smile onto his face. “It’s okay, honestly — we just don’t click. But I have you, and Baranor and I get along well, and I have this project to work on. It’s enough for me.”

I sigh, resting my head against his chest. I hope that’s true.

{***}

At breakfast, Lavandil and I make plans to meet at her shop. She gives me directions and I hurry up the stairs to my room, changing out of my tunic and leggings and into something a little more fun for my first day of work. I settle on a dark purple gown, one that billows down my arm in puffy gossamer sleeves and has a slight, sparkly train. I’m probably a bit overdressed, but knowing Lavandil’s extravagant wardrobe, I’ll fit in just fine. I bound down the staircase, eager to discover the market and the shop. I turn left, intent on exiting the building.

And crash into the middle of someone’s chest.

Hands grip my upper arms, steadying me as I stumble back. Once I’m righted, I look up, and my mouth falls open.

“Cosima—”

“Haldir—”

Both of us freeze, having spoken at the same time. I purse my lips, waiting for him to go first. He raises an eyebrow, evidently expecting the same of me.

But I can’t make the words happen. His hands on my arms send my mind right back to the tension of last night, to the room that started light and open and turned more intimate than it should as the night went on.

Haldir’s arms fall to his sides. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you turning the corner. Are you alright?”

I nod, my eyes darting from his chest clothed in a cobalt blue tunic up to his eyes. The intensity from last night is gone, now replaced with a noticeable degree of hesitance.

Interesting.

Did he feel something last night, too? Or does he know I did, and now feels awkward around me?

That last thought sends a wave of stress through me. Was I horribly obvious? Have I messed everything up?

“Are you off to Lavandil’s shop,” he inquires, pulling my mind away from these anxiety-inducing thoughts.

“Yes.”

He quirks a smile. “Then I imagine you will be seeing a lot of my brother today. He has a tendency to hang around there.”

“Probably a result of him being in love with the shop-owner,” I quip, voice going high with nerves.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose that would do it.”

We fall into awkward silence.

Haldir clears his throat. “Well, enjoy your day.”

“You too,” I nod, crossing paths with him to exit the building.

Once outside, I take in a gulping breath.

Did I create all that weirdness? Or is he struggling to figure out how to act around me, too? And why?

Things have never been strained or awkward between myself and Haldir. Once he got over his initial suspicion of me, we got along easily. I feel like he understands me better than the others and, if I had to pick a favorite, as Rumil prompted me not so long ago, it would be, without question, the supposedly-stern Marchwarden leading our company. And, based on the amount of time he spends with me of his own accord, I would say he enjoys my presence, too.

So, that begs the question, what could have happened to turn all that ease on its head and replace it with stilted, awkward, unsure interactions? We were fine until last night—

I suck in a breath.

My brain, apparently useless until I looked the issue straight in the eye, starts piecing together instances of my time with Haldir, forming a terrifying and exhilarating picture.

Sleeping between me and the entrance to our camp so I wouldn’t be frightened. Spending hours alone with me lying on a blanket staring up at the stars. The way he panicked and looked after me when I had my migraine. Big things like that and smaller ones, too — the way he teases me, the way he always makes sure I’m cared for, whether that means sharing from his canteen or sending me with food when I’m likely to miss dinner. The way he’s conscious of my fears—heights, orcs, you name it—and provides support without coddling me, enabling me to handle and face them on my own. The way his arms, so gentle yet so secure, held me close, even for just the smallest of moments.

Could we…have feelings for each other?

Could this rapid and strong attachment to an ellon I met mere weeks ago be something other than friendship?

With a sinking feeling in my gut, the momentary rush of excitement falls into something much more sinister. Something that, in any other world would be a wonderful, thrilling feeling—the one I am developing feelings for maybe, potentially, might see me the same way—is here, horrifying.

Because elves live forever and love only once.

And a human lifespan is dismally short.

Rumil’s face after our conversation yesterday, crestfallen and saddened, comes to my mind.

If my mere friendship with these ellyn will cause them grief when I’m gone, then even entertaining these thoughts about Haldir….

It’s deplorable.

From the heart of the city, the bell chimes. I’m late to meet Lavandil.

I shove down the ache that makes my lips quiver and hurry down the path that will lead me to the market.

The distraction of working with Lavandil will be my lifeline.

I cannot allow my feelings for Haldir progress any further. So, though I’m not sure how effective I’ll be, I swear not to think about him for the rest of the day.

{***}

“What happened last night between you and Haldir?”

Damn.

I made it two hours.

I swallow, trying to seem busy as I hang a tapestry on a display. “What?”

Lavandil comes up beside me, using her height to hang the art properly. “Rumil told Orophin who told me that Haldir came back from training with you and seemed quite flustered.”

My body runs hot. “Did he?”

“Mhm,” she nods decisively. “Apparently he returned to the room in a rush, wouldn’t say a thing, and then spent over three hours at the training grounds, sparring quite harshly with some of the guard.”

Even though the tapestry is hung, I pretend to fuss with it, not brave enough to meet Lavandil’s eyes. “Nothing happened. Maybe he just wanted a better workout — I can’t imagine I was much of a challenge.” I try for a joke, and mercifully, she gives me a pity laugh.

Her demeanor softens. “Cosima, you know there’s nothing wrong with having an attraction, or even feelings.”

“Of course there’s something wrong with it,” I shriek, much louder than I meant to. I look at her with wide eyes, surprised by my outburst.

Thankfully, no one is in the shop, and Lavandil only regards me with calm eyes, no judgement in them.

“I’m sorry,” I hurry to apologize, sitting myself in a chair at a nearby table. On top of it sits a beautiful garnet tablecloth — Lavandil’s work. She sits across from me.

“It’s alright,” she smiles kindly, resting her elbows on the table to mirror me. “I had a similar disposition when I realized I loved Orophin.”

“I don’t love him,” I correct quickly.

She puts her hands up in the sign for surrender, though her bottom lip pulls like she’s trying not to make a face.

“I don’t,” I insist, putting effort into keeping my tone non-angry. I lower my voice, worried, perhaps irrationally, that Haldir himself will go waltzing by and hear my dreadful confession. “It’s, at most, an interest, and probably not even that. Likely more of a curiosity.”

“Well, interests are nothing to be ashamed of.” Her tone matches my low volume and carries in it a gentleness I could never hope to emulate.

“Yes, they do!” My voice drops to nearly a whisper. “Lavandil, he is an elf. You know I’m human. The two don’t mix well.”

She huffs. “There’s nothing to say that. An elleth here, Arwen—”

“Is walking into a tragedy,” I cut her off.

Lavandil’s eyes narrow. “Too many people see it that way, and it is getting quite old. Do you know what I see? Two souls in love. Though their futures are bleak and incompatible, their presents are filled with joy and love and the connection that can only come from two fæs who want each other so badly finally bonded. They would still face pain if they ignored their love for each other — so why not give themselves what joy they can?”

“But she will die—”

Now it’s Lavandil’s turn to interrupt. “Arwen is fully grown. She is wise, and I trust that she knows herself well enough to make the choices she has. Her life is ultimately her own. She can spend it how she pleases.”

I press my lips together, head falling to stare at the deep red tablecloth. Despite Lavandil’s conviction, her words do nothing to allay my fears.

The only thing that awaits an elf bonded with a human is grief and death.

Arwen may have made her choice, but so have I made mine.

“Rumil said elves can take centuries to fall in love. Is that true?”

Lavandil pauses, caught off guard with my change in topic. “I-in some cases, yes. More that it could potentially take that long for an elf to admit they are in love. Often, even if they are not ready to accept it, their fæs know. And even then, that is the timeline in the most rare of cases. You know, for Orophin and I it only took a matter of—”

I raise my eyes to her, pleading. “Lavandil.”

She sighs, staring at me like she wishes I had asked her something else. “Fine, yes. Elves fall slower than humans.”

I take in a deep breath, nodding.

Good.

Because if I have only just noticed these feelings, chances are, if Haldir were to follow suit, he is way behind. The instance Lavandil described from last night, the other hints that show he might be feeling something…I can end them now.

I have time to stop this.

I have time to save him.

A/n So, funny thing, @errruvande got pretty close to guessing Cosima’s reaction to realizing her feelings for Haldir, so shout out to Liza!!! Seriously though, love her, love her blog, I’d definitely recommend checking her account out! Thank you all for reading!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction

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hopeshoodie · 4 years ago

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I can’t believe it took me until part 8 to do my favorite boy but

Here are the pros and cons of dating

Noah

Cons

Noah is really non confrontational, so he tends to let issues fester. It’s not that he’s trying to let things build up, it’s just that he doesn’t think they’re important enough to bring up. He won’t start a fight about them when they’ve built up, but if MC is angry about something he’ll mention that there’s a bunch of things he’s let go but not have specifics. It ends up coming out like ‘yeah well what about all the other things?!’ ‘what other things!?’ ‘I don’t remember!!’. He’s not actively keeping track of all her mistakes, he genuinely does forgive and forget, but then when tensions come to a boil he needs to point out that there has been conflict that he just ignored. He’s not trying to guilt or gaslight MC, but sometimes it feels like it. If she thinks especially little of his intentions, it feels like he’s just pulling things out of thin air to be mad instead of focusing on the issue. That’s not what he’s doing- he just doesn’t address little things until they feel like big things. But of course he hasn’t done the introspection to truly understand how doing this is hurtful or articulate that he doesn’t mean it to be.

When he and MC disagree, he lets things go wayyy too easily. This is fine if MC is a really mature, self-reflective person who can see that she’s crossed a line after the fact. But if MC is a little more selfish/immature, like Lottie, this is a huge con because he doesn’t give her accountability that would help her grow. We saw this with Hope- she wasn’t able to recognize how harmful her temper was when she was dating Noah because he never pointed it out, he just rolled over. If there’s a genuine problem- financial, emotional, logistically, he’ll ‘let it go’ until it’s a way bigger problem (and much harder to solve).

Sorry that most of these cons are about how he fights with people, but that’s what we saw in-game lol. I’d love to know more about how Lucas or Rahim fight with their partners. But when you’re arguing, Noah tends to focus on really little details of what you said instead of listening to the whole thing and getting a sense of the bigger picture. So let’s say the issue is ‘Noah, I need you to tell me when you’re borrowing my car because you took it to the gym and then it went from having enough gas to get me to work in the morning to being on empty. This morning I had to stop for gas and that made me late.” The issue there is actually ‘please tell me when you’re using my car”, but he fixates on the gas part and says “well fine I can fill up your tank”. So he focuses on little details that he can fix instead of acknowledging the actual problem.

He internalizes things so fucking hard. Yes he intellectually knows that when MC gives him feedback on things she’s talking about his BEHAVIOR and not him as a person, but he definitely feels like shit about himself if he makes a mistake and MC calls him on it. He’ll definitely beat himself up about things for weeks after it happens, and his internal dialogue in general is pretty toxic.

I can see him being a bit of a workaholic. Not in the same sense that Camilo is in Boat Party, but Noah definitely will go into the library on a day he’s scheduled to be off if he has projects to work on or will stay late because he got engrossed in research. Same thing now that the library’s closed because of COVID- it takes him two times as long to put everyone online and work from home, so he’s spending more time working than ever. He views it through the lens of the ‘greater good’- getting that display set up for the patrons is more important that seeing his wife two hours earlier because many members of the community outnumber one person. Plus he just cares so much about his work that he has a hard time seeing it as an inconvenience to other people.

He loves his family so much. Even when MC and he get married and have kids, he struggles to prioritize them over his siblings and parents. So if his little brother Arlo needs money, Noah won’t hesitate to give him a loan even if he and MC are struggling financially. If his aging mom or dad can’t live alone anymore, Noah will invite them to move in with his family, even if their house isn’t big enough to accommodate more people. I can see this being a huge point of contention, especially in that second scenario where MC would have to take on a caretaker role as well. Noah just wants to help people so bad and has a hard time saying no, so that can sometimes impede his partner.

He’s really used to living on low income, and so he has a lot of frugal habits and concessions that he thinks are normal that someone more middle or upper class might find irritating. These are all coming from my experience and things partners have complained about- but think things like only eating out once a month or refusing to turn the heat on until it’s dangerous or making his own laundry detergent. He grew up doing them out of necessity (and still does, student debt on a public librarian’s budget? I couldn’t do it), so he doesn’t realize how strange or frustrating his habits might be to someone who isn’t used to it. He also has a really hard time justifying spending excessive amounts of money, so if MC has lavish taste there’s going to be some conflict.

He doesn’t like initiating anything. Conversations, activities… you know *smirk emoji*. He will, but the ratio of when Noah suggests something to when MC does is like 1:8

My boy is beautiful, and his clothes look lovely, but he has 7 outfits that he rewears all the time. The closest thing to fashion is him putting a different button up shirt underneath his vest. It’s definitely a joke at work that he wears the same sweater, button up, and quarter length shirt just in different colors. You know that vine where the teacher walks into the room wearing the same shirt in different colors, saying the same ‘hello’ for like a million days. Noah’s coworkers remake that with him, because that’s exactly what he does.

He’s a bit of a homebody, and loves routine. For me, massive plus, I love that. But for someone who wants to party regularly or be spontaneous, I can see constantly changing plans and going out with people being really draining to Noah. He has a small group of close friends, so he’d struggle to remember MC’s friends' names if she has more than five. Don’t get me wrong, Noah will take MC to galleries and dates at least three times a month, but it has to be discussed and scheduled in advance.

Pros

Honestly, what isn’t a pro about him? Noah is a steadfast, thoughtful, and kind person. His politics are about taking care of people, providing them dignity and respect, and building community. He loves his family and is incredibly patient. He’s incredibly smart but not at all classist or condescending about it. I know this is supposed to be about how the islanders affect the person they’re dating, but oh my god he’s such a good person I love him. Let’s just say the pro for this is his positive aura.

He’s really good at group dynamics and listening, so he goes out of his way to make everyone feel heard and valued. If someone says something and no one acknowledges it, he’ll specifically engage with them so they’re not left hanging. If someone’s trying to get a word in but can’t, he’ll get everyone’s attention then say ‘so and so had an idea’. He’s not one to boisterously laugh in group settings, but he always makes eye contact and smiles if you make a joke that flops or say something he agrees with. If people are teasing about something, he picks up if it’s gone too far really easily and will gracefully change the subject/tell them to knock it off.

He’s super conscientious about respecting boundaries and ensuring the people around him are taking care of himself. If MC and him are long distance and texting after 10pm, he’ll be like “I love you, but we’ve both got to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow”. He’ll always check and make sure people have eaten when meeting up with them, and if they haven’t he’ll insist they get food from somewhere. 100% gives you his jacket, brings you water bottles, in general just wants you to take care of yourself.

Above all else, Noah just always ensures the people around him feel safe. The last thing he’d want to do is make people uncomfortable, so safe driving, safe spaces, safe sex are all musts. He’s really good in crisis situations because he can calm people down and encourage them to think critically.

Building off of that, he’s really aware of how much of the housework is being done by who and always tries to ensure he’s doing his part. I bet that was a big thing he ripped on Rahim for- Rahim expects his woman to clean up after him and do the bulk of the domestic work, and Noah knows that’s bullshit. I think Noah likes cleaning, anyways, and will usually take laundry/disinfecting bathrooms/cleaning dishes over cooking or running errands. But the mental load of keeping track of recipes/groceries that need replenishing and keeping up with kids needs, he’s aware of the imbalance and does his part. Obvious plus, because it sounds fucking exhausting to date a man. He fucking hates vaccuming though, and will splurge on a roomba.

He has a dry sense of humor that’s very based in puns and hyperbole. Sometimes it’s hard to know when he’s joking or not, but he never makes you feel bad for missing a joke or dwells on something for too long. He absolutely subscribes to the Mcelroys’ No Bummers rule, there are some things you don’t joke about and he’s happy to shut down inappropriate comments or ‘jokes’. He definitely prefers physical gaffs and dumb ways of saying things, so his favorite comedians are John Mulaney and Chris Fleming. While humor isn’t an important part of how he relates to other people, Noah enjoys being around funny people and won’t shut down their energy like Rahim, Marisol, or Hope.

This is just me projecting again but Noah is generoussss. Even though he doesn’t make a lot of money at the library, he still has a ‘mutual aid’ budget each month (and goes over it often). He’s the first one to give money to panhandlers, donate to gofundmes, and give friends/family personal loans. That definitely gets him into sticky situations sometimes, because he has a hard time saying no and can get taken advantage of, but ultimately I think it’s a pro because he’ll never forget where he came from and always prioritize helping other people.

He has a really pretty, deep singing voice and this is a pro to me because fuck I meltttttt.

The shit he says to his partner or spouse? THE most romantic thing in the world. You think Mr. “you’re made of stardust” doesn’t shower his lover with the most meaningful lines at random times? You think he’s not quoting sappho and jane austen when he’s at a loss for words? You think he’s NOT going to turn over in bed on a lazy Saturday and say ‘this is the most perfect my life will ever be’? It’s not even prompted either, yes he’ll compliment Bobby or MC when they get all dressed up for date night, but more often he’ll profess his adoration in the middle of dinner, then take another forkful of food.

Fantastic with kids, and this is a huge pro because people who can work with kids and be patient/positive with them make me so fuckim soft. But if/when (hopefully when because if MC didn’t want kids I don’t think it’d last) they had kids, Noah is happy to be on bottle duty, wake up early to the baby, and generally be a really involved parent. He’ll take a big chunk of paternity leave, and generally be there as much as humanly possible. Even when they have multiple little tyrants running around, he always makes time to be alone with MC and make sure she’s not taking on too much.

He’s basically a lesbian, which is definitely a reason I love him so much. Hear me out- loves milfs, loves 80s music, communicates affection through meaningful glances and playing with hair but will die before explicitly saying any of it, crushes on his best friend for the longest time but never makes the first move, puts way too much emotional meaning and personal metaphors into objects and then presents them as gifts, is into fandoms and actively collects pop figures, is attracted to assertive/powerful women, wears beige skinny jeans, wears VESTS….. That’s a lesbian. He’s a bisexual man, but he’s also an honorary lesbian.

A really good confidant. Noah’s an amazing listener and never judges people harshly- his life philosophy is as long as you’re not hurting anymore or yourself, everything else is details. So you can definitely tell him secrets and confess regrets to him and he’ll listen with those soft eyes and gentle nods. Talking to him about mistakes always feels like unburdening yourself. And he’d never tell your secret to anyone. Doesn’t matter if you cheat on him, lie to him, or die, he’s never going to tell anyone your secrets.

#litg #litg noah #pros and cons

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blackchessknight · 4 years ago

Text

Ever Blue And Red

By @blackchessknight for @michellejones-stacy

This was really fun to write, I hope you like it. The premise is not what I expected to write from your prompts but that’s how creativity works I guess.

This is for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark,

Summary: To be fair to Peter, he had never planned to become an Enhanced individual that protected people by being bitten by a radioactive spider and becoming Spider-Man. Really, it made perfect sense that even if he hadn’t planned it, he would turn into a siren at the splash of water by eating a weird-looking fruit he found on patrol.

If anything, it was Mr. Stark and Aunt May’s fault because they made him eat something healthy every two hours. If the rule wasn’t there, he wouldn't have touched the fruit. Ok, that was a lie, he might have tried it just because it looked weird, but maybe somebody would have stopped him from consuming it if he didn’t have the eating rule.

On the bright side, keeping this a secret from them wouldn’t be as hard as keeping Spider-Man a secret, he has experience this time.

Spoiler Alert: He doesn’t even last a week.

Read on AO3

First chapter under the cut

Tail As Blue As The Sky Enveloped In Light

Peter wants it known for posterity's sake that it wasn’t his fault.

The case could be made that it was, indeed, his fault, but no judge had made the ruling and he was sticking to that fact. Not that it does anything to persuade the jury from condemning him to being grounded for two weeks after.

It all started that fateful day on patrol, spring break only a few days away. Sure, Peter had a lot of assignments to turn in, but not anything that couldn’t be done just before it was absolutely necessary. The most annoying were the essays for English and History, but hey, even STEM schools needed their students to course them. Anyways, since Peter would be spending the break over at the Compound with Mr. Stark while Aunt May took the week with her coworkers at the Caribbean-very likely being joined by Ms. Potts at some point- the last weekend hadn’t been a Compound weekend. It’d worked great for Peter, he got to hang out with Ned before the break where the other boy would go see family, and also to spend time with May.

It's a bright April afternoon as he swings from the buildings with not much happening when Peter comes across a small playground area with a few trees and some grass parts. The little park wasn’t rundown or badly taken care of and the trees were already a bright green. A few children call him over and he swings down to greet them. He even takes a few pictures with them.

On his way out of the park he sees it. Lying on the grass under a tree is a weird-looking acorn, it's purple with an orange stripe. Peter walks over and kneels down to pick it up. The texture feels closer to a peach and just as squishy. His senses weren’t going off in danger but it wasn’t like any fruit he’d ever seen in his life.

“Karen?” Peter asks.

Karen takes a few seconds before responding. “I haven’t found a match for it, but it appears to fall under the category of fruit.”

Hhmm. Well, that just made it more intriguing. There wasn’t much that Karen couldn’t identify. If the unknown fruit lasted long enough he could even ask FRIDAY or Mr. Stark about it, maybe run a few tests on it, perhaps he just discovered a new type of fruit. That sets it, Peter’s taking it with him.

Peter sets off to where he left his backpack webbed to an alley wall. He reaches the alley and his backpack is just where he left it, which is great-it wouldn’t be good to ask for another so close to the break, it was already his second one this year. Peter changes to normal clothes and proceeds to set the weird acorn inside the backpack, he doesn’t think anything in his back will squish it. With his backpack set, he begins making his way home in no hurry.

On the way, Peter plans all the assignments he needs to do for the week. It’s still early, he can go home to eat, do some homework and go out again to patrol another hour or two before curfew. There’s that calc and chemistry homework due for tomorrow that he’ll work on today. He’ll eat whatever May left for him, hopefully, she left money for Thai. May isn’t coming home until late, they were spending extra hours at the office before the break, half leaving things prepared for their vacation and half coordinating it. His mind travels to the movie Ned and him saw that weekend and the new Lego set they built. Then it takes him to his break at the Compound where he’ll get to train with Rhodey and work on his web-shooters, he’s also gonna work with Tony on the arc reactor and their prosthesis project. By the time Peter became aware he was already in the front of his apartment building.

Inside their apartment Peter finds out May hadn’t left money for Thai, instead there was a nice healthy meal waiting for Peter to warm up and eat. He supposes he should have known better. Peter shuts the fridge door and turns to his room. When May wasn’t able to ensure Peter ate, and ate something healthy at that, they got him these nice meals prepared from a nice restaurant that Pepper had found near their apartment. They all had him about being in a routine for eating healthy, he hadn’t eaten anything they thought wasn’t good for him in weeks. He was able to have a treat once or twice on the weekends if he had followed through during the week. Peter thought it wasn’t necessary anymore, he was perfectly fine now. He’d learned since his eating disorder started, but just try and get that through to them. Apparently, they had to trust the diagnosis more, which to be fair was really accurate, but still, he thought he was already past that.

Peter sits in front of his desk and takes out his chemistry book and worksheet. Maybe he’ll get hungry after working his mind a little, he begins to work.

The alarm on his watch startles him, a big contrast to the quiet room that makes it sound louder than it is. The alarm is a constant beeping that doesn’t cease until Peter presses the shut button twice, once to know there’s an alarm and a second to acknowledge what it's for.

Mr. Stark set the alarm for him to eat something healthy every two hours. They’d also been on his back about eating often and he usually ate a fruit or a bar. Peter looks around his desk, then his room, and notices there’s nothing of his usual stash. He doesn’t want to get up to get something, usually, there are always things nearby but he probably ate them all.

Peter remembers the weird fruit in his backpack from earlier, sure he wanted to research it but his priorities changed. He still has the analysis from Karen to ask FRIDAY with. Peter opens his backpack and fishes the fruit out, it looks exactly as it had when he found it. He doesn’t know what it is, but Karen said he could call it a fruit and he was allowed to eat fruit, since he also had to eat something he saw no flaw in his logic of eating it. Besides, if Karen said that he didn’t eat anything because he was too lazy to get up he would have Happy babysitting him again. No one wanted that. To Peter, the ends justify the risks.

Peter smells the unknown fruit and it gives no distinctive smell. Before taking a bite, he searches within himself for any signs of danger but when he finds nothing he bites it. It tastes good, feels softer than an apple but not quite like a peach as he’d thought. Oh well, it's still good, really good actually. He goes back to doing homework.

Minutes after his little snack break Peter begins to feel weird, not in a Spidey Sense tingling weird, nor it feels like something is happening to his arm weird, more like the insides of his body feel funny. Peter hasn’t ever felt like this before.

At first, Peter thinks it will go away and continues with his homework, but after he finishes his chemistry workout sheet the feeling has only increased. He doesn’t feel anything wrong though, just... different. He starts feeling a little sleepy, not in the sense that his body is tired, it feels like his own body is telling him to close his eyes and rest a little. So that is exactly what Peter does, he puts away his work, goes to his bed, and rests his eyes. It will only be for a bit, he still has time to go patrol a bit after resting a few minutes.

Those few minutes turn out longer than he thought. A lot longer. By the time Peter is opening his eyes feeling rested and just… different, the sun has already set and the night has fallen. The only source of light in the room is the lights coming from the streets through the closed window of his room.

Darn it! He probably had missed his dinner time! Peter looks wildly until he finds the digital clock on his nightstand that reveals he was still just within his time frame before Karen would alert Tony, or May. He’d been asleep far longer than he'd planned.

Peter is starving like he hasn’t in months, so much so he would eat that flavorless mush of food they’d made him eat that day at the Medbay after their “intervention”. He sets for the kitchen, takes out the plate with his food, and sets it in the microwave as the instructions show in the note.

You would think that Aunt May and Mr. Stark would be lenient that he missed his meal because he was sleeping but that was actually a very important point to them. Once he’d been awoken by a blaring alarm, it had almost given him a heart attack, he had thought it was an emergency, maybe the sky had been falling. It hadn’t been anything alarming other than him missing his snack. And not even mentioning that one time in class where he’d been called to the principal’s office for forgetting his snacks at home and Mr. Morita personally getting him a protein bar. That had been a horrible day. He still couldn’t really look Mr. Morita in the eyes.

The microwave beeped and Peter went to pull out the dish. He grabs a fork and napkin on the way to the couch. Karen may tattle about his food consumption but never where he eats. To be fair, Karen only has eyes in the suit mask, the rest of her input comes from his Starkwatch and Starkphone. Peter’s little humanoid golden robot, that he built with Tony’s help, C3PO, comes forward and sets his little arms up for Peter to place his plate on. Peter turns the TV on and settles back to continue his current series on Netflix.

Peter had been starving and food had never tasted so good in his life. He basically inhales it. Something not as good as he had been told but he was hungry. C3PO leaves with the napkin, the fork and the plate to the kitchen and Peter finishes his episode as he digests his food.

When the episode ends he gets up from the couch and walks to his room. As he walks in he sees R2D2, the little robot he’d made by himself at the lab in the Compound, having what seems his own little party in his room. R2 even has some music to dance with as he moves around the room.

Peter’s idea was to change again into his suit and patrol until his curfew but he feels a tug towards the water. He already did a patrol today, it had been a calm day. Peter decides he’ll settle for the night, finish some homework, and do more time on patrol tomorrow, he’ll make up for today then. Right now he will take a shower and finish his homework for Monday, be free for the entirety of the weekend.

C3 enters the room as Peter exits it to go to the bathroom. Peter might have programmed them with some personality traits reminiscent of their movie counterparts, and it usually ends with a bit of a friendly argument between the two. The good thing is Peter will be away while they do it, the bad thing is he’ll probably still hear them while he showers.

Peter takes off his clothes and sets his hand under the spray of water to feel its temperature. Once it’s to his liking he clambers inside headfirst. The water soaks his brown curls then covers his back. Peter backs his torso so his legs get sprayed with water and the change is fast, so fast it would probably be pretty seamless for anyone else. Peter doesn’t have time to react to the sudden feel of his legs knitting together and turning scaly before he loses balance with a startled yelp. Peter reaches out to the shower wall with a hand and sticks, stopping his fall but the momentum sends his back to hit the wall and Peter slides down, landing on his butt.

He blinks several times as he stares at his legs. Or more importantly, where his legs should be. In their place is a mermaid tail, just like the movies. It's a light blue like a clear skyline in New York mornings, with shiny scales that turn white when the light hits them and see-through red shaded fins. The tail seems to start at his hips but it fades up into his stomach with smaller scales, not a clear cut. Peter can feel the tail, he can feel it as if it were his legs but they feel different.

This isn’t normal, is it? This isn’t some long overdue side effect of the spider bite, right? This shouldn’t be happening, should it? There’s no way this is normal. This has got to be in the Top 10 weirdest things to happen to him. It fights for dominance right up there with the spider bite.

Peter takes a deep breath, he feels the fins and wills one to move as if it were his foot. In front of him, the fin moves. Peter shoves himself back startled, his head hits the other wall of the shower with force and he winces. He brings a hand to rub at his head, even if it doesn’t really make the pain lessen. He makes the other fin move, makes them both move at the same time, makes them move in opposite directions.

Peter stops playing with his fins. Wow, he has fins now, he has a tail. He can move the tail too. He has full control of it. It’s rather flexible too, more flexible than he’s become with his enhancements. Okay, so, he has a tail. He has a mermaid-merman?- he has a merman tail. He has a tail that is blue, and he can move it. It is right in front of him. Peter reaches for the middle of the tail with his finger and pokes it, sure enough he feels the poke, both in the tail and with his finger. It's real.

Alright, cool. So now that the shock has worn off it’s time to figure this out. Does this mean he can breathe underwater? Is he a merman now? Does he have to live in the Ocean? Would a lake suffice? His powers stayed, he was able to stick to the wall. Does that make him a Merman-Spider? Spider-Merman? Siren-Spider? Is he no longer allowed to eat fish? Do mermaids eat fish? Does this mean mermaids are real?

You’re getting distracted, Peter. Focus.

Was he a merman forever now? How did he even become one?

Yeah, focus on that. The how.

This isn't alien tech, that's for sure. He hasn't encountered anyone with alien tech in a while. That’s one out. So then… magic? Was magic real? Were there wizards? Was there actually a school for wizards? Oh gosh, that would be so cool. Like, Wanda Maximoff had magic, right? That's what she used? Or was that something else? It could have been magic, or maybe kinetic energy manipulation, that was also a possibility; but the idea of that being magic was always an option. Wait, he's getting sidetracked again.

Right, what caused this.

Ok, well, it couldn't be the spider bite either, it'd been far too long since and it didn’t make logical sense to be a result of it. Or... it could be if this was the product of a second reactant to the DNA alterations caused by the bite. Like, sure it would be weird to get a tail as a reaction, but so had gaining the powers of a spider through the bite of a radioactive spider; maybe they wanted to gain the powers of a fish and it mutated into a tail. Peter hadn't gone swimming recently and definitely hadn't been bitten by a fish but maybe he had, or eaten the radioactive fish by accident. He shouldn't have trusted that fillet, it had tasted too good. It could also just be a coincidence from another substance, really if this was a reaction he needed to know the second reactant.

Peter sees the water fall and splash on his tail and continue down the drain as he thinks. Water! Peter snaps his head to look at the showerhead. That was the reactant, water! The moment his legs got wet he got a tail!

Ok, so it wasn't a late side effect from the bite. That was good to know. It didn't rule out a reaction from the after-effects of the bite but it did give less evidence in its favour. So far the contenders are radioactive fish, reaction to his spider DNA, and magic. Only one of which Peter actually had knowledge of.

Peter sits up and moves forward to shut the water off. The tail was cool and all but he was kind of stuck in the tub. Peter lifts the end of his tail and moves the fins with narrowed eyes. He moves the fins close to the wall and then touches it, he wills them to stick and they do. Ok, he has better mobility than he thought he would. Feeling excitement fill him, Peter uses only his tail to lift his body and it works. He balances himself on his tail. He is definitely a Spider-Siren. He can stick, has strength, he assumes it also has his superhealing.

Peter grabs a towel from the rack and sits back down in the tub, he starts drying his upper body. The scales shimmer as he moves and Peter wonders if they would look the same dry. He sets the towel around his neck. Peter lifts himself from the tub and sits on the toilet lid, splaying the tail across the bathroom floor in all its glory before he grabs the towel around his neck. Peter starts drying his tail and the feeling is weird, he feels the towel through the scales and it’s closer to feeling something through his nails.

Peter has the sudden urge that his legs come back so he could experience the difference in them. Peter is scrubbing where the body of the tail meets the fins because it feels really good when the change happens. Peter senses the change a second before it happens but he is too confused at his Spider Sense telling him about it to notice what the change is . He lifts his head, dropping the towel, and looks around. Nothing is amiss and the sensation leaves. Peter turns back to pick up the towel and continue, now to try out the feel on his fins when he stops dead on his way to pick it up. His legs are back. His legs are back as if the tail was never there.

Peter pokes his legs, and just like the tail, they’re there. He moves them to make sure he has control over them, he does. He sets his palm on his leg and is surprised to find them completely dry, not even moist.

Peter looks back towards the shower, then he looks to his recently regained legs and back at the bathtub. He turns his head to his legs then the shower. Legs, shower, legs, shower. Peter bites his lower lip.

Like yeah, it could be a fluke and he may get stuck with a tail, but it could also be like his spider powers that he has control of. The tail disappeared when he dried it, it could be that if he gets his legs wet again the tail would return, and then it would disappear when he dries himself again.

What kind of scientist would he be if he didn't test out his hypothesis? He had to try. Besides, the worst thing that can happen is he has a tail, he'll figure it out later if he can’t dry it out. He has a feeling it will work anyways.

Peter fills the bathtub around three-quarters full. This is insane and just the type of experimenting he likes, trial and error. Taking a deep breath, he positions himself above the water holding himself by his arms, legs stretched out in front of him, parallel to the water below. All he needs to do is lower his arms and he will get his legs in the tub filled with water.

Peter lets out a little nervous laugh as he looks at the water. Like ripping off a bandaid. Peter takes another breath, releases it, and lets himself fall in one motion that splashes water over the tub’s edge.

The tail returns and this time Peter knows what he’s feeling. He realizes it's his legs morphing into a tail. It takes his legs a second to become a tail and it doesn’t hurt. It’s not a feeling he can put words to, other than from now on he can call the feeling his legs morphing into his tail. A part of the tail shimmers under the translucent water and his fins stay between water and air near where he thinks his knees would be-his tail is far too long to fit in the tub- while Peter moves it a little. He lifts the end of the tail and lets it smack back into the water, making a big splash that brings a joyous laugh from him. It worked as he’d suspected, the tail appears when his lower body gets splashed with water. Peter lifts himself from the bathtub and sits on the toilet seat.

Peter grabs the towel he first used to dry himself and begins to redry his tail. The same weird feeling of drying his scales returns. Willing his legs back as he dries Peter lifts the towel and grins. Where his blue tail had been are his legs once more.

Peter grins at the water, a rush of excitement cursing through his body. He has a tail now.

Just as abruptly his grin comes it falls and his heart begins to beat loudly in his chest. Oh god, he has a tail. He can't tell Aunt May, she'll freak out and ground him. And he can't tell Mr. Stark because he'll reprimand him, then tattle to May who will freak out and then they'll ground him together.

Ok, ok, ok. He can’t tell them, no big deal. He’s Spider-Man, he’s kept that a secret, he can keep this a secret. He has to figure this out first, then maybe he’ll tell them. If this is reversible they might never find out.

Does he want to reverse this? Food for thought.

He’ll figure all that out later. Right now Peter is going to take a bath, experiment a little, and then him and Karen will have a conversation about how much of a snitch the Babysitter Protocol makes her before starting his investigation.

#the friendly neighborhood exchange #my writing #irondad #mcu #peter parker #tony stark #lab shenanigans #spiderson #facfic #spiderman #iron man

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I’d like to request #17, with Philip and Chase (and bonus Shoutarou with another Drive character, if you like). I just have this need for Philip to interact with all my favorite characters, and your W crossovers are delightful. ^_^

17. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Really, Shoutaro thinks, it shows a lot of restraint from Philip that he managed to wait a full week after discovering that Roidmudes were back in the world before he insisted on meeting one. Not that he’s unrestrained, of course. In fact, he’s gotten a lot better over the years about not overwhelming people with his academic enthusiasm. But there’s academic enthusiasm, and then there’s his increasing interest in the various unusual friends their junior Riders have picked up. He’d been practically vibrating with excitement since he first heard that Dr. Sawagami had run successful preliminary trials in her project to bring back the Roidmudes.

Of course, Philip could ask to speak with one or more Roidmudes all he liked, it had taken some time to arrange it. They’d had to talk to Terui, and he’d called Drive, and Drive had spoken to the four now-living Roidmudes, and then it had still taken two more months after that before anything could be scheduled just due to the tremendous problems Drive’s friends were having getting the Roidmudes legal status.

Now, though, the day's come, and Philip is enthusiastically shaking the hand of a man so color-coordinated that he could put Terui to shame and saying, "It's a absolute pleasure to meet you, Mr. Chase, thank you for coming, I appreciate it. Would you like coffee? I don’t know if you eat.”

Chase stares at him for only a very brief moment before saying, “Thank you, I do not drink coffee.”

Next to Chase--towering over him, in fact over all of them--is a man in a red coat with a thoughtful look on his face, and Shoutaro has to think for a moment before he recalls the last few messages he’d gotten. “And you’re...Heart, right? I’m Hidari Shoutaro, and this is Philip.”

Philip blinks. “This isn’t Mach? I thought Shijima Gou would be accompanying Chase to Fuuto. Shoutaro, I’m sorry, did I forget to introduce you?”

“It’s all right, partner, you were pretty excited. No, you remember the email, Gou was tied up with something last-minute.”

“By which he means he forgot that Professor Harley was going to be in Japan and expecting to see him.” Heart smiles, although he’s watching Philip with something that might be suspicion. “So I volunteered to come along, I’m always interested in making new friends.”

Chase glances at him. “You are overprotective.”

Heart makes a hm noise that doesn’t sound entirely like disagreement.

“Heart, Heart...” Philip’s eyes light up. “Yes, you’re also a Roidmude! Terui had said you weren’t interested in being interviewed, I don’t suppose you’ve had a change of heart? Forgive me, that wasn’t intended to be a play on words.”

Heart wavers for a moment, and Shoutaro can’t quite figure out whether it’s due to shyness or actual discomfort, so it’s probably fortunate that Chase is the one who answers. “Heart is not comfortable with discussing the past.”

“Ah. Yes, I entirely understand. Would you like coffee?”

“Now who’s overprotective?” But Heart relaxes visibly. “Yes, coffee would be wonderful, thank you.”

"Terui Ryuu said you and the other Roidmudes were having difficulties with your legal status, do you mind if I ask what they were? I know there are existing procedures for establishing the legal identities of non-humans, it's been done for two Bugsters in Seito. Well, three. Two and a half? Dr. Kujou is a complication."

Philip, Chase finds, is refreshingly blunt. He doesn't talk around issues the way many humans do, he cuts directly to the point, and moreover he seems pleased when Chase does the same. "There was an attempt to declare the Roidmudes property of the Japanese government."

"Oh.” Philip blinks several times, rapidly. “That's offensive, I imagine you all objected strenuously."

"Yes." Chase takes a sip of his tea. "And then once it was conclusively determined that we were people, there was the question of criminal charges."

"Really? Against you?"

"Against all of us. Heart, primarily. Brain and Medic were considered accomplices."

"I imagine your being a Kamen Rider helped with your case?"

"To an extent. I am not considered a threat. As it stands, we are no longer capable of causing gravity surges or otherwise wielding serious destructive force, and are under intermittent observation. The current legal debate centers around whether a Roidmude can be considered to have experienced mental duress."

“Hm. Really? Compelling. I wouldn’t think that was a debate at all.”

Chase considers this carefully before replying. “Why would you say that?”

“If Roidmudes are people, which they certainly are, then they can of course experience mental duress, or indeed any form of psychological distress.” Philip stares into space, hands wrapped around his coffee cup. “Unfortunately I’ve found that one of the hallmarks of personhood is a capacity for acute suffering. A being self-aware enough to love must also be self-aware enough to fear losing that which they love, and that fear can naturally be leaned upon by the unethical to coerce.” More staring into space. “Or simply to terrorize. It’s even more unfortunate when one realizes that unethical people of that type will likely always exist.”

“I...had not considered this previously.” Chase frowns, slowly. He’s experiencing an unfamiliar emotion--not that there are many emotions truly familiar to him, but this one contains elements of both surprise and happiness, and he is not clear on how one might express it.

He likes Philip, he realizes. He would like to be friends with Philip. Perhaps this is how Heart feels all the time.

“If this is the case, then in your determination, do Roidmudes have souls? I am not clear on what a soul is meant to be, but it has been the subject of discussion.”

Philip actually laughs. “The nature of the soul is one of the few topics on which I’m not the man to ask, for that you might want to talk to Ghost. In fact, I’m sure he’d be happy to discuss it with you. But in my limited experience with the subject--yes, I would think that Roidmudes have souls.” He takes a long drink of coffee. “Please excuse me if this is an indelicate question, I’ve been trying not to ask these things so abruptly lately, but my research indicated that Roidmudes have a more robotic base form onto which your human guises are layered, may I see it?”

They’re at the Windscale boutique getting Heart a suit.

They’d been discussing the Agency, and Heart mentioned having been a detective very briefly and seemed interested in the work, and this had led very naturally to talking about the boss, and from there to what Shoutaro had learned from him. Including, crucially, manner of dress, a topic that Heart seems fascinated by.

“I’d thought you could just sort of...shapeshift your clothing,” Shoutaro says. “At least, Bugsters do that, and Philip had mentioned that you do something similar.”

“Well, I can.” Heart plucks at the furred cuff of his coat. “But Tomari Kiriko’s suggested that I might adjust better to living among humans if I try to pick up some of their habits, little ones, and I like clothing.” A smile flashes across his face. “Mostly I’ve been borrowing things from Tomari Shinnosuke. He’s indicated that he’d like me to stop, though, because apparently he’s tired of having to come find me if he’s missing something he wants.”

“That’s Drive and his wife, right? We’ve never actually properly met, it’s sort of an oversight on Philip’s and my part.” Shoutaro frowns. “Do you live with him?”

Another flash of smile. “For the moment, yes. I was...revived...several months before the other Roidmudes, and they offered to let me stay with them. Mostly I watch Eiji for them and help Kiriko with housework. I’m learning how to cook. Brain and Medic are staying with other friends of Tomari Shinnosuke’s until the authorities can stop arguing about us and let us find a place of our own.”

“Well...” Shoutaro squints up at him for a moment, trying not to resent the man for being taller than him. “What kind of clothing do you like? I’m not exactly an expert on men’s fashion, but I like to think I know a little bit about it.”

This time it’s not a flash, the smile stays as Heart says, “Well, I have to say, the suits that Tomari Shinnosuke and his colleagues wear aren’t very interesting, but I do like your outfit quite a lot, it’s very sharp.”

So now Heart is trying on hats, and the Windscale salesgirls are losing their minds over how handsome he is. Normally Shoutaro would be a little jealous, they’re so used to him at this point that nothing about him is interesting to them, but he can’t quite bring himself to be. Not when Heart looks so pleased to be doing such an ordinary thing. Anyway, he’s letting Shoutaro pick everything out, and it’s so rare for someone else to be this trusting of Shoutaro’s fashion sense.

He also looks very good in a three-piece suit. But then, Shoutaro thinks, straightening his waistcoat, doesn’t everyone?

“What do you think of this one, my friend?”

Shoutaro looks at the latest hat Heart’s picked out and says, after a moment’s thought, “I think you look like a real man.”

Heart pauses. “Is that a good thing in this context?”

“Yes. The best thing I can think of, really. I mean, not that it’s bad to be a woman, but--listen, what I mean is, you look good, it suits you. Do you, uh, do you like to read at all?”

“Yes, sometimes, why?”

“We’re going to a bookstore after this, there are a couple of authors I think you’d enjoy.”

“Thank you for allowing me to examine you,” Philip says, when Chase shifts back into the human form that he’s finding more and more preferable to Proto-Zero’s, “it’s been a tremendous help to me. It’s--the many varieties of personhood that exist within the modern world are terribly compelling, but so few people are willing to speak about it at any length. Which I understand, but it does make study difficult.”

Chase nods. “I understand.” Beat. “You say personhood, but not humanity?”

“They’re hardly synonymous. Like circles and ovals. Every human is a person, but not every person is human. I haven’t always fit the precise definition of human myself.” Philip’s hand stills in the middle of a furious bout of note-taking, his face taking on a faraway look that Chase is learning to recognize. “What was death like for you? If you don’t mind my asking. Personally, I find the memory very difficult to grasp. Like a dream. I know that it happened, but when I reach for it, it slips out of my fingers.”

“It was...” It takes some time to find the way to phrase the answer. “Silent. And then when it ceased to be silent, it was because I was alive again.”

Philip nods, and takes more notes, and says, “Thank you for sharing that, I appreciate it. It’s...most people I know have never died. It’s difficult to explain to them.” The notebook snaps shut suddenly, Philip’s pen slides into its spiral binding right before it’s set aside. “Now. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Chase blinks, slowly, several times, before replying. “How do you mean?”

“You. And your fellow Roidmudes. This is not an easy world to live in, especially when one’s personhood is treated as a subject for debate instead of a given. I would like--I hope that you’ll consider me a friend. I would like you to be my friend. And as a friend I would like to offer you and the other Roidmudes whatever help I can in establishing yourselves as people deserving of independent lives.” Philip grins at him. “At the very least I’m wonderful at winning debates.”

When Philip and Chase emerge from the garage, the first thing they see is Heart sitting in one of the front room chairs with an elderly gray cat asleep on his legs, and a much younger marmalade cat draped around his neck like an ungainly scarf. His red coat is nowhere in sight; he is, instead, wearing a black three-piece suit, a vividly red shirt, and a burgundy necktie with a heart-shaped pin in it. He's also engrossed in a book in English, although when they enter the room he glances up and says, cheerfully, "Hello."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Heart, I see Shoutaro's actually succeeded in his quest to get someone else to like Windscale as much as he does, you look very good. Are you enjoying Raymond Chandler? Shoutaro, is that Mrs. Mizuishi's kitten on our friend's shoulders? Where was he this time? Mrs. Mizuishi is a bit absent-minded," Philip says to Chase, "Chobi frequently wanders off when she's looking elsewhere."

"Yes, she called when we were on our way back from the bookstore." Shoutaro's sitting at the desk, in the middle of typing what looks like a list. "He'd only gotten up a tree, Heart helped me get him down. Mrs. Mizuishi’s coming to pick him up soon."

"And I see he has Mick's approval as well."

The gray cat opens one eye and gives Philip an unamused look, as if to say, “Yeah? What are you going to do about it?” only to begin purring when Heart absently reaches down to scratch his ears.

Chase sits down next to Heart while Philip goes over to speak to Shoutaro and is immediately investigated by the orange cat, who sniffs at his ear briefly and then gets up and hops from Heart’s shoulders to his. “What are you reading?”

“A collection of detective stories. Hidari Shoutaro gave it to me. He’s making me a list of movies that I might enjoy, I think I like detectives.” Heart leans slightly so that his arm brushes Chase’s. “It’s nice to have made a new friend. I hope the questioning wasn’t too intrusive?”

After a moment’s consideration, Chase says, “No. It was an enjoyable conversation.” He reaches up offer the orange cat his hand to smell. “I think it would be safe to say that Philip is a friend as well.”

Heart breaks into a smile. “That’s wonderful! I’m very glad to hear it.”

“However, I think we are expected to return to the city shortly.”

“Right, yes, I suppose we are.”

Over at the desk, Shoutaro pulls the paper out of his typewriter, blows on it to make sure that the ink is dry, and then folds it up and tucks it into an envelope. “Here, Heart, I’ve got that list for you. And my email address is at the bottom, please let me know which one you like best, you have no idea how long it’s taken me to find someone else who’d want to watch any of this stuff. I mean, Philip watches them with me, but other than that.”

Philip laughs quietly. “I do enjoy them, partner, I’m just not as passionate about them as you are.”

Heart carefully moves Mick onto the coffee table and stands up, reaching for a black hat with a red band that Chase hadn’t previously noticed hanging off the back of his chair. Chase, similarly, has to untangle himself from the orange cat, which objects strenuously to being moved and then promptly falls asleep in his chair as soon as he’s on his feet.

“I hope you’ll visit again,” Philip says as they’re shaking hands, “for non-research purposes, of course.”

Chase nods. “I would like that.”

Next to him, Heart tucks the envelope from Shoutaro into his suit jacket and says, “Maybe we can bring Brain along next time, I think they’d get along.”

They head out the door as a group, Shoutaro saying, “You’re going to email me, right, I need to know whether you like Spade or Marlowe better.”

“Of course, although I can tell you right now that just from the reading I’ve already done I like Marlowe quite a lot.”

One more round of handshakes as they all stand next to Chase’s motorcycle, and the last thing Philip says to Chase is, “Thank you again, so much. It was a pleasure to meet you. It’s wonderful to have new friends.”

Chase nods, says, “Likewise,” and resolves to visit again as soon as it’s feasible.

#philip #chase roidmude #hidari shoutaro #heart roidmude #fanfiction #toku-fangirl-2015

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honey-subs · 4 years ago

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Hi baby! I have a request for Minho from SKZ Basically is about corruption kink😳 he’s shy, insecure and super subby, so his experience in sex is non existent(as mine lol) but there is this girl that is the opposite who didn’t lost the chance to fuck him, please include fingering, rimming and a little bit of degradation, also make him wear glasses, i have a thing for that🥵thank u so much, i love your blog🥺❤️ you are amazing

study - lee minho

a/n — sub!minho, dom!reader, this is out of character for minho, corruption kink, handjobs, degrading, etc.

a/n — left out a few things because i thought they were a bit much for first times, i hope you still enjoy it, though!!

minho didn’t know what to think when the teacher paired him up with you for a project. you weren’t exactly known to be incredibly nice, quite the opposite.

you were more so known for your player ways, along with breaking people’s hearts. people always did their best to stay away from you, but something about you always drew them in.

minho was chewing his lip the whole time you were talking to him. “we could do the project at my place. here’s the address and my number.” you muttered, quickly scribbling the numbers on a small piece of paper and leaving him with his own thoughts.

you’re on his mind for the rest of the day, durning classes, lunch, and even as he’s getting his things from his locker to go home. he’d always wondered why people were always attracted to even when they knew of your reputation, but now, he was sure he understood. there was something about you that just instantly draws him in.

‘coming over in 30 min, that okay?’ he texted you as he got into his car, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. ‘that’s fine, i have the materials here.’ you texted back in less than two minutes. he hummed to himself as he started his car, and began the drive to your house.

it was a fairly long drive, and he found himself wondering why you’d drive half an hour just to go to the school downtown when another was closer. maybe it was something he could ask you soon.

soon enough the drive the drive was over and he had made it to your house. he didn’t know what he expected, but it hadn’t been this.

your house was extremely grand, secure, and decorated. he was sure his jaw had dropped once he saw it, and he became a bit self concious of his nerdy attire in such a grand setting, but did his best to brush it off anyway.

he eyed his bag of books that sat in the vacant passengers seat. he grabbed them quickly before he began to overthink his current situation and back out.

he stepped out of his car, and entered the gate that he assumed to be left open because you knew he was coming. he knocked on the door a few times and waiting obediently and patiently for someone to open the door.

it wasn’t any surprise you him that you were the one to open the door. you both exchanged a small and very awkward ‘hello’ at the doorway before you step aside and let him in.

“would you like something to drink or eat before we start the project?” you asked, attempting to break the ice. “uh, water is fine, please.” he says, and it’s barely above a whisper but you catch it. you nod your head once and go to fix him a glass of water.

you hand it to him and he takes it and thanks you in the soft voice he used before. “so, for the project, i was thinking maybe we could rip bits of old news paper to create almost a nostalgic feel to it? maybe even add the decorative words on the front, but maybe we could even use some of our combined research from the last project on the inside....? if all of that it okay with you, of course.” he rushes at the end, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“of course, baby. i’ll go get the newspaper.” you murmur, patting his thigh as he tried to fight the blush on his cheeks. you didn’t mean to flirt with him, but once you did, it was fun to see him get flustered. you smirked to yourself once he couldn’t see you anymore, already formulating a plan to see how long you could keep him flustered and blushy.

he’s still red when you come back with the newspaper, legs bouncing quickly. “t-thank you...” he murmurs when you hand it to him. he slides off of your porcelain couch and into his knees, you had to keep from staring at him. the sight was seemingly innocent, but much more in your eyes. there he was, in his knees, looking up through his round glasses at the newspaper.

you grinned to yourself and shook your head to get rid of the sinful thoughts. the project ends up going fast, and throughout, you realize minho i has a lot more personality than you originally thought. he had a great sense of humor, when he wasn’t speaking in nerd-talk, that is. both you had him had a lot in common, which was surprising considering you’re on the opposite ends of the school spectrum.

it was unheard of for your to even think this, but you were kind of ready for the project to move faster so you could have extra time to spend talking to minho. “minho, i thought you were at the top of the class. what is this?” you voice, possibly a bit too harsh. and you think about apologizing, but your thoughts change drastically when you take one look at minho an see how hard he’s blushing. “s-sorry.” he whispers, crossing his legs over one another.

your frown of dismay was replaced with one of sin as you looked at him, and his innocent eyes looked back, seemingly not-so-innocent. “minho, uncross your legs.” you tell him, setting the project town to turn towards him. his eyes widened and he adverted his gaze, cheeks brightening even more. “minho i said, spread your legs.” the dominance that practice dripped from your voice was enough to have a shiver run up his spine.

slowly, he does what you say and uncrosses his legs. spreading them a bit so you could see what he was trying to hide. there was a clear bulge in his khakis, and he seemingly got even shyer under your prying eyes.

it’s like he’s under your spell, because soon enough he’s following your every command. “come here.” you muttered, not taking your eyes off the boy. he slides from his spot over to you, now sitting beside you and still looking down at his hands.

you could practically hear his heart beating in his chest when you use the delicate tips of your fingers to tilt his face up towards your own, and planting a small kiss on his lips. you pull away quickly afterwards, and he practically has stars in his eyes. his lips chase your when you pull away too, wanting eagerly to press his lips against yours again.

he whimpers into your mouth as you continue. you grab his thigh, and pull him into your lap so that his back was against your chest. “wha-“ his words were cut off with a whimper when your lips attached to his neck.

your hands roamed down his white button up and to his khakis, palming him over the tan-colored material. “mm, the schools golden boy.” you murmured as you undid his belt.

he lifted his hips a bit so that you could slide his pants down and off, and you were able to see how much your actions effected him.

“i wonder what they’d think if they saw you like this in my arms, hm? a mess and i haven’t even touched you properly yet.” you mumble softly. “if they saw you being such a little slut for my touch in my arms.” you finish, watching as he closes his eyes and his mouth opens.

“you like that don’t you? being called a little slut for my touch?” you ask, and he doesn’t give an answer right away. “i asked you a question and i expect an answer.” you mutter, gripping his clothed cock in your hard. “y-yes! yes! i-i love it.” he whimpered.

you’re satisfied with his answer and smirk, using one of your hands to trail beneath his now messy shirt, caressing the soft and plush skin of his tummy.

his cheeks redden when you do that, yet he still melts when you do it. his hips raise from your lap a bit so you can slide his boxers off.

you underestimated how much you effected him because his cock was already pretty and red, and steadily dripping precum.

“i-i’ve never....” he lets his words trial off. “touched myself....” he’s obviously embarrassed as he says it, though. “ you really are innocent.” you mutter, taking his cock into your hands.

he whimpered at the touch. he’s surprised by how good it feels when your hand moves up and down around him, starting at a steady pace.

he already feels like he’s on cloud nine with the way you’re sucking and nibbling on his neck. “p-please...” he whimpers. he pushed his glasses up on his nose as he tilted his head back.

“how does it feel, baby? letting me touch you like this. you let me so easily too, an innocent whore for me to use.” you murmured softly, speeding up your hand.

“a-ah! oh my gosh- s-so good-“ he moans, eyes rolling back as he feels the warmth of an orgasm pool into his stomach.

“f-feels funny-“ he whispers softly, thighs clenching together to try and stop your hands, but you use your legs to spread them apart farther.

his back arches from your chest as he squirms. “it’s okay, baby, just let go.” you whisper, and he does what you say when you suck on the sweet spot right below his ear.

he’s practically shaking when he cums, the mere force of his first ever orgasm makes him shiver in pure pleasure. his cum spills over your fist and drips slightly below and onto the wooden floor.

you help him through it and carefully remove your hand and grab some tissues to clean up the mess. you helped him fix his now rinkled clothing, and he was incredibly bashful afterwards.

“t-thank you...” he whispers. “you’re welcome, cutie. you might want to cover those up, though.” you tell him, nodding at the litter of hickies that covered his neck. his cheeks flush as he looks at them.

“let’s take a break from the project since we’re almost done. i want to get to know you more.” you mutter, pushing the project to the side. “o-okay...” he whispers, taking your hand when it’s offered to pull him up and lead him to your room.

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clockworkgraystairs · 5 years ago

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38 for jurdan pls? 😇🖤💫

HELLO MY LOVE!

I’m so sorry this took so long *sobs*

I swear I try to make this ones short but it. just. doesn’t. happen.

BUT IT’S FINALLY HERE!! I hope you enjoy it

38. I HAVE BEEN IN LOVE WITH YOU, DUMBASS

Jurdan - College AU 1

Jude’s phone buzzed. Again. The thing had been doing that for the whole damn morning.

So she’d been ignoring it.

Well, not exactly.

More like, she hadn’t been able to answer. Everytime it ringed Jude felt like it was drilling her head.

So here she was, lying in bed for the second day in a row with fever and terrible headaches. Missing class again.

She was not used to miss any classes. In fact, she was feeling really upset about it. Jude was one of the best in her course, barely competing with other two people. As a future journalist, she needed to be one of the best since it was a very demanding career. Besides, she’ll have mid-term exams soon, and missing not one but two full lectures made her terribly anxious. Not to mention her very scholarship being in danger if she dared to drop her grades. Only by some miracle she’d been accepted in Insmire College, so she refused to let the opportunity slip away from her hands that easy.

But it turns out to be, her body had some other plans. And Jude didn’t know if she ate some spoiled food or what the hell was going on because two nights ago she’d woken up practically running to the toilet to throw up the contents of her stomach.

She didn’t even had the strength to go to the doctor nor any roommate who could take her there, so she figured she’d wait until it was out of her system and rest in the meantime.

Or die, if it was her destiny.

Maybe she wasn’t meant to finish her career. Maybe all of those years of effort and nights without sleeping were for nothing. Maybe-

A loud knock on her door woke her up from her thoughts.

Jude furrowed at the sound. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Probably just some street vendor, they were common in that zone. If she didn’t answer he would simply leave.

So she closed her eyes again and buried her face back in the pillow

But no. Whoever was out there kept banging at the door, louder this time. If they didn’t shut up they’d be so sorry as soon as she regained her balance.

Just ignore them, she sighed.

“Duarte, are you there?! Open up!” A loud bang again.

Jude’s eyes snapped back open and groaned. Oh no. No no no no. Not him.

“I can see the lamp light on, I know you’re in there, c’mon!” He knocked again.

Jude stood and stumbled to the door opening it furiously. The light outside blinded her for a moment, making her headache worse, but then there he was. Grinning like an idiot as always, with that annoying and perfect smile of his.

God she hated him. Most of the time at least.

Ever since that day, back in sophomore year, when she’d thought he was flirting with her but at the end he’d only stole her ideas for a final project. He was another one of the top three in her class, clever and cunning as the devil itself. All of the teachers were always praising him even when they’d just asked for the hour. It was ridiculous.

With the door wide open, Jude suddenly remembered she was wearing a really old and ragged dress she used for sleeping.

He whistled “Not your day huh? What happened, your alarm ran away?”

She glared at him. Now, in senior grade, Jude had been paired with him for a research project that to her misfortune, he was completely agreeable to do. And it would have been much easier if he’d kept his usual arrogant and smug attitude.

Instead, Cardan was being the perfect gentleman.

Whenever she asked for a meeting for the project, he attended. He was punctual, sometimes even more than her. Some other days he arrived with two coffees, or muffins, or whatever thing he found on his way, to share with her.

He focused on their chores, working hard when needed and relaxing and telling fun riddles when not. More than once Jude caught herself laughing as if they were best friends. Then remembered they weren’t, and went back to work silently.

Cardan was not her friend. He was her competition, a strong one if she was being honest to herself. He seemed to acknowledge that too sometimes. When they ran to each other in the hallways he barely noticed she was there, some other days he just winked at her and turn away.

When they were in class though, their battles for dominance were fierce and Jude hated to see him smirk everytime that happened. He could not be her friend.

And yet, he was now outside her shitty apartment clearly puzzled by the look of her. The gown, her messy hair, she was even bare feet. It was humiliating.

“What on earth are you doing here?” She sighed, rubbing her eyes.

His eyes roamed her figure once. He quirked an eyebrow. “Checking if you’re still alive to begin with. You’ve missed two days of college, I can’t tell if you’ve noticed. That cannot be good for your final grade, especially not with professor Noggle.”

He was unbelievable. Jude blinked. “You came here… to tell me I’m getting a bad grade?”

“Yeah.” Cardan shrugged. “Well, also to ask why the fuck you didn’t arrive to our meeting this morning, but I guess I have my answer now. As comfy as your bed might be that research is not doing it on its own…”

From one moment to another she felt her balance falter. He kept talking but Jude just only saw his mouth move. A prickling sensation ran up her fingers. Her eyes unfocused and the world around her seemed to start swaying. At some point Cardan ceased his ranting and said her name, it sounded as if he was underwater. Jude tried to answer something but her voice failed while the floor changed below her.

She was about to reach the floor when two strong arms gripped her, slowing her fall. Jude heard him bark a curse as he pulled her up and carried her inside. Somehow he closed the door with his foot and settled her in the couch. His hands cupped her face prompting her to open her eyes. His fingers were cool against her boiling skin.

“Fuck, you’re burning… Jude.” Cardan insisted. “Jude look at me.”

Her eyes took a while before managing to focus on his, dark as the night sky. How many times she’d lost herself looking at those eyes?

“Can you hear me?” He continued, gently pulling strands of her away from her face. “I need a cloth, can you tell me where is it? You’re ok, I’m here.”

A spark of consciousness shone on Jude’s brain and weakly pointed at the kitchen drawers.

Cardan stood and in the meantime she tried to focus on her breathing. The sensation of fainting started leaving little by little.

Cold touched her forehead out of nowhere and she groaned. Cardan made soothing noises as he caressed the wet cloth over her.

“What on earth Duarte?” he whispered.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, not sure if her words came out the right way. “I’ve been feeling a little ill…”

“A little ill? You’re burning up in fever!” Oh now he was angry. Great. “How much have you been like this?”

Jude shrugged, closing her eyes again. “A couple of days, I figured out it would leave later but-”

“But nothing, you cannot feel like this and not calling anyone Jude!” Cardan paused and took a deep breath. “This is what we are going to do. As soon as you can, you are going to get your ass into that bathroom there and have a cold shower. I’ll make you some soup.”

“Soup.” She repeated, chuckling under her breath. “So apart from everything you also cook. Damn, that’s why everyone loves you.”

Jude looked back at him and found a cold, decided stare. “If you don’t get that shower in the next 5 minutes I’m going to give it to you myself, understood?”

She gulped, feeling her heart skip a beat.

Ten minutes later, Jude came out the bathroom and sat back in the couch rubbing her damp hair with a towel. She was feeling better but still a little weak. She’d put on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts that belonged to another pijamas.

“Here.” Cardan’s voice pulled her gaze up. He placed a bowl in her hands and took a step back. “Eat.”

Jude’s stomach growled with hunger at the sight of the soup. When was the last time she’d eaten something? She took a spoonful into her mouth and almost moaned in relief. It was absolutely delicious. Damn him.

She glanced up and found him also looking back at her. His eyes hard and his jaw shut tight.

“Don’t just stay in there, creep. Sit down.” Jude motioned to the place next to her. He obliged.

Jude ate in silence, and at some point Cardan just started telling her what had happened those days she’d missed. She smirked when he told her how boring was to debate with Noggle alone, since she hadn’t been there.

When she finished, she left the bowl on the little table next to the sofa. Then grabbed her pillow.

“I see you’re feeling better now…” He started. “But either way I’m taking you to a doctor, and that’s not a question.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jude said. She placed her pillow over Cardan’s legs and he stiffened when she laid her head over it. “The least you can do is let this poor woman sleep a little before taking her out to the cruel world.”

“Are you feverish again?” His voice came out a little strained.

“Mm no, I’m just tired.” Her words were more a whisper than anything. “Give me half an hour, I’ll be ready to go after that. Please?”

Cardan nodded nervously and leaned his back to the couch, hesitating before lifting a hand and softly caress Jude’s hair between his fingers.

She sighed happily, already more asleep than awake. “Careful, with all these attentions one would think you actually like me.”

He snorted. “Don’t make me laugh Duarte.”

She made a noise but didn’t talk again. Cardan peered down and watched her sleep, looking peaceful as she wasn’t usually seen. He allowed himself to smile.

“Like you…” He repeated. “I’ve been in love with you for months now, you dumbass.”

He sighed and rested his head back, closing his eyes. At least for now, he could let himself daydream about this being a regular day with her. Even if it was only for half an hour.

**********

Masterlist

#sometimes all we need is some College AU #and Cardan being soft #Em prompts #jurdan fanfic #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the folk of the air #tcp #twk #qon #tess writes

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cordria · 5 years ago

Text

Moon

“Don’t step into the moon,” was the cryptic message left by her predecessor, scrawled on the paperwork.

“Great help,” Sally Effords muttered as she stepped out of her car and looked up at the building her temp agency had contracted her out to. She stopped. “Oh, shit, no.”

The whole street was residential - including this… house? - but it stood out like a sore thumb in the morning sunshine. Gadgets and things-she-had-no-name-for stuck out everywhere from the two story brick home. Some strange sort of craft perched on top, and a huge sign hung into the street. Code violations obvious everywhere.

Too bad she wasn’t working for the city anymore. She’d gotten paid by the violation. She’d have made two month’s rent on his place.

She glanced down at the paperwork, pointlessly rechecking the address. “Hate my job sometimes,” she whispered before hiking up her skirt and walking up the front steps of this monstrosity. “Secretarial work my ass.” She knocked. Perhaps nobody would answer the door and she could go back and find something else.

For the longest time, nobody did answer.

She raised her hand to try knocking again when the door was wrenched open. An impressively large man was standing there, his bulk covered in some sort of bright orange overalls, a weird glowing headset over his eyes, and a thick head of gray hair. He filled the doorway, and was a half-step too close for comfort. “What?”

“Ballast sent me to fill your secretary job?” Sally asked, raising her chin and refusing to take even the smallest step backwards. She’d been employed by weirdos before, and this job offered a stellar bonus for making it through a week. “Sally Effords.” She held out her hand.

The man pushed back the headset. Handsome pale blue eyes were framed by an honest, open face and a pleasant smile. “A new one! MADS WE GOT A NEW ONE!” he shouted.

Sally set her jaw at the bone-rattling shout. “Yes,” she said, uncertain what else to say. She’d certainly been expecting a handshake, or a welcome, or something beyond a shout that woke up the entire neighborhood.

A woman appeared in the small space left by the man’s bulk. She was in blue coveralls, gray peppering her red hair, with a pleased smile that was very like the man’s. “Excellent, Jack, but you could welcome her inside instead of making her stand in the street.”

A little knot in Sally’s stomach relaxed slightly. At least one of her new employers was normal-ish. She set the lady a smile. “Sally Effords,” she introduced herself, holding out a hand.

The woman didn’t shake her hand either. “Come on in,” the woman said. “I’m Maddie. Maddie Fenton. This is my husband, Jack.”

Sally let her hand fall to her side with a mental shrug. Perhaps it was a cultural thing. She stepped inside, trying to survey her surroundings without looking nosy. It was a living room, kitchen visible through a doorway, stairs that led up to a second floor. “Ballast said you were in need of a secretary.”

“Yes,” Maddie said. “Our business is in the basement, and I’m afraid the three of us are just lousy at paperwork. DANNY!” Her voice went from pleasant to a shout in a heartbeat. Sally had to fight down a flinch.

“What?” came a new voice from right next to her.

Sally did flinch this time. She was quite observant, had looked around, and there were only the two people nearby seconds ago. She glanced to her left, spotting a twenty-something man leaning against a wall. He had black hair that was longer than the typical male, a lean build, and normal clothing. How had she not seen him there?

“She clean?” Jack asked.

“Obviously,” the younger man - Danny? - drawled. “She got in the house without setting off everything.” He smiled at her, blue eyes almost glowing. “Danny,” he said, holding out his hand for a handshake. “Are you enjoying meeting my parents?”

Sally shook his hand. “Quite.”

“It’s a pretty average FentonWorks greeting,” Danny said. “They don’t stand much on normal behavior.”

Maddie laughed. “We’re plenty normal, Danny.”

“Plenty,” Danny agreed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you show Sally the lab?”

“Yes,” Jack piped in, heading through the living room and towards the kitchen. Maddie was a few steps behind, talking about some sort of project they had going on.

Sally lingered near the door, wondering if she was expected to remove her shoes. She turned to ask Danny, but the man was gone. She spun in a little circle, convinced she hadn’t heard him head up the stairs or through the door, and knowing he hadn’t followed his parents. “Creepy,” she whispered, and kept her shoes on.

Through the normal - if a bit outdated - living room was a kitchen that was similarly outdated, and quite a bit more beat up. Cabinet doors weren’t closed properly. Several drawers had long scratches. The table looked like it had been fixed several times by someone who didn’t quite know what they were doing.

She heard her new employers talking through an orange door. Sally walked over and found stairs leading down into a basement. “Okay,” she whispered, hesitating. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted to head downstairs in this odd home. But she squared her shoulders and set her feet on the stairs.

The basement was lit with bright fluorescent lights. Shelving units lined most of the walls, and tables were scattered everywhere. Some sort of freaky closet was along the back wall, with round doors and hazard lights around it. Electronic bits and bobs were everywhere, wires and things scattered across the tables and shelves, and a general sense of haphazardness everywhere.

“This is your desk,” Maddie said, pointing to the table closest to the stairs. Unlike the other tables, this one was covered in papers. A phone and computer was barely visible behind the stacks. “Jack and I work over there,” she gestured with a hand towards the other tables, “and Danny over there.” She pointed towards a spot on the other side of the stairs, a smaller table that was noticeably cleaner than everywhere else.

Sally blinked, spotting the younger man already sitting in a chair. He gave her a little wave. How had he gotten down here so fast? Was there a back way down?

“So, yes,” Maddie said, walking over to the paper-covered table and studying it with her hands on her hips. “I suppose the first thing you’ll need to do is organize it. The last one left in a bit of a hurry...” She dug through the piles, pulling out a random piece of paper and holding it out.

Sally took it, glancing down at it. A basic listing of secretarial duties with almost no detail. ‘Answer the phone’ was on there, but nothing about the standard greeting for the business or where to route calls that came through or how to take memos. Her mouth twisted. Businesses like this set up temps for failure.

She now understood the nice bonus for making it through a week. This place was a kooky disaster. “Sounds like a plan,” she said, aiming for a brisk and business-like tone and giving the woman a smile.

Maddie smiled back, that same open and honest expression she’d had before. “Jack and I will be over there. Yell if you need us.”

Sally nodded. ‘Yell’ was likely not an overstatement. Then she turned to the table, studying it. Organization was one of her talents - it’s why she loved the library jobs. She cracked her knuckles, wishing she had chosen something a bit more practical than a pencil skirt and heels to wear today. She’d know better for tomorrow. First things first, figure out what she was organizing.

Halfway through cleaning off the table, sorting the papers into a dozen stacks on the floor and debating whether or not ‘by date’ or ‘alphabetical’ would be a more logical sorting system, she glanced over at her new employers. The two elder Fentons were busy tinkering one something-or-other. The younger Fenton was doing something on his computer.

So far, the people were kooky and the house was weird and full of odd hazards she would have to start making a list of, but the job seemed relatively standard. Why had they run through two dozen temps in just three months?

Her mouth twisted into a frown as she picked up another bit of paper. Perhaps she should have done a little more research on this business before she arrived. The paperwork had made it seem like a scientific company that did research and development for the government.

“How’s it going?”

Sally flinched, glancing over her shoulder. The young man was standing next to her, studying the piles she was making. She hadn’t heard him walk over - he was an impressively quiet walker wearing those thick boots on the hard floor. “This is quite a stack of papers,” she said.

Danny laughed and crouched down, picking up one of the stacks and flicking through it. “My parents collect a few things. Paperwork seems to be one of them.” He set the papers down where he’d found them, then picked up a different stack with a blanch. “Is this really a whole stack of warning letters from the city?”

“Yes.” Sally watched the disbelief settle onto the man’s face. “Didn’t you know you were getting them?”

“Not really,” Danny muttered, setting them down and moving on to a new pile. “It’ll be really nice to have this organized and in some sort of working order. My parents waste a ton of money each year because of this,” he gestured towards the mess.

“Can’t get a stable secretary?”

“Can’t convince my dad we need one.” Danny shot her a smile. “My mom’s on board. She hates answering the phone and doing paperwork. My dad still thinks he’s handling it just fine.”

Sally had to fight to keep the expression on her face bland - this mess certainly wasn’t just fine, but she wasn’t going to offer negatives against her boss on the first day. “I enjoy organizing, so this works for me,” she said.

Danny chuckled. “That good.” Then an odd expression settled on his face. “Do you have any idea what we do here?”

“Not particularly. It’s a private R&D company for the government, according to the paperwork.”

His head tipped to the side. “You live in Amity Park and you’ve never heard of FentonWorks?”

Feeling like it was some sort of trick question, Sally hesitated. But the smile on his face was polite and nice, and so she answered honestly. “No.”

He nodded slowly, the smile growing. “Excellent.”

“Why do you ask?”

“You’re the first person we’ve hired that’s… actually done work.”

Sally blinked up at him. “What?”

“Well, there were a couple that pretended. And there was the one that, I think, was actually going to work but she wouldn’t step foot in the lab. But the rest? Nah. They just straight-up were trying to steal stuff.”

Sally glanced around. Wires. Gadgets. “Why?”

Danny shrugged, then pointed at the piece of paper in her hand. “Like that. Next-generation, million-dollar patent.”

She glanced down at the paper she’d picked up. It was the third or forth such piece of paper she’d found. Sure enough, it was a patent. “Million-dollar?” she repeated, trying to not sound doubtful.

“There’s people that would pay you a hundred thousand bucks if you’d just slip that into your bag and bring it home.” Danny’s eyes glittered, like he was holding back laughter. “I’m surprised none of them stopped you on the way here and offered.”

“Are you actually being serious, or tugging my leg?”

“Nah, honestly.” A shoulder went up and down. “My parents don’t give one little rip about it. They used to, but they’ve made so much from their government contracts that they’ve stopped paying attention.”

Sally thought about the broken, out of style house she’d walked through to get here, still skeptical about the man’s claims.

“Yeah, all they care about is this lab,” Danny said, seemingly following her train of thought. “The upstairs is simply a place they sleep, and sometimes eat.”

“Oh.” Sally set down the patent - perhaps a little more carefully than before - and studied the piles of paper. If the young man was being honest, this paperwork was worth tens of millions of dollars. Still thinking about all that money, she absently asked, “Do you think they’d like it organized alphabetical or by date?”

Danny broke out laughing, a genuinely happy sound that made the other two Fentons pause and look over. “I don’t think they have any idea what either of those are. Organization is an alien concept for them. You decide.”

“I can do that. I might need some containers for all this, otherwise it’ll just get messy again.”

He stood up and grabbed the phone, turned the receiver over, and pulled off something taped to the bottom. It was a credit card. He held it out to her. “Maybe take a long lunch break. Stop at the store and get what you think is best.”

“Uh…” Sally stared at him. She’d worked here for a few hours, and he was handing her a credit card already? The credit card was a shiny silver, with ‘FentonWorks’ listed on it. “How much-”

“It’s got a quarter million dollar credit limit,” the man said with a grin. “Spend what you want. Don’t go nuts, but get something that’ll last. Avoid the dollar stores. It goes back under the phone when you’re done. Unless you have a better plan so it doesn’t get lost.” With that, he walked away, stopping next to the strange, lighted closet. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he told his parents. “Gonna go grab a friend.”

“Yup,” Jack said, waving a hand. “I’ll save some lunch for you.”

He glanced at her, smiled, and pushed a button. The doors of the closet opened on their own - but it was no closet behind the doors. It was a mass of swirling gas that seemed to glow like the full moon on a dark night.

“Don’t step into the moon?” she whispered, remembering the odd comment scrawled on her paperwork. “What is that?” And assuming his story was true, what had her predecessor tried to steal from inside the closet?

The young man took a large step backwards and vanished into the mist. The doors of the closet slowly closed behind him.

Sally waited, watching, wondering what in the world was with the doors and the weird moon-shine gas behind it. When nothing happened, she shook her head and went back to sorting through the paperwork. Alphabetical she decided, nodding to herself. She glanced at the credit card, wondering if this whole thing was some sort of joke. She’d try it out at lunch, just to see.

She was mentally planning through what she’d get - she had a bit of a knack for design, after all - when the closet doors swooshed open again. She looked up into the shine, and two somethings stepped out of the moon. One resolved itself into Danny Fenton. Then other…

Papers fluttered from her nerveless fingers, as she suddenly put together the name FentonWorks and the local news she’d read about over the last decade. “Oh my,” she whispered. “Oh... shit.”

#dannymay2020 #quick writing #this started and was going to go somewhere else #i'm not entirely sure how it ended up here #but it maybe works #moon-tangential at the least

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dino-nugget7 · 4 years ago

Text

A Manifesto Against The School System

As of writing this I am a second year Public High School Teacher. I won’t be able to live with myself if I spend another year at it. Literally, I feel like a bit of a monster for deciding to finish out this school year rather than quitting right now. But we do what we must to survive, my students won’t be less oppressed because I left, and if nothing else, it gives me an opportunity to strategize about what I can do to aid in revolutionizing school because authentic alternatives to public school exist but none I have found have been intersectional enough to replace public education without excluding the kids who would most benefit from escaping the main school system here in America.

Some of the reasons I did not understand how oppressive school actually is, are that my interests and hobbies happened to align very neatly with the “core” classes, and that even though I grew up very poor and moved around a lot as a kid, we eventually settled and I went to a well funded high school that had just about any elective and/or after school club that I might be interested in trying and then some. During that time, I came to see school as a place where I could explore my passions and escape my home situation. So I figured I would love to pay it forward and go be a teacher.

I recognized at least, the privileged position I came from and decided I wanted to go learn how to teach in settings as different from my high school as possible. Which is why I went and got special permission for most of my classroom placements throughout the teaching program to be at alternative schools. In Colorado at least, alternative schools are small public schools which primarily serve students identified as “at risk”, which is shorthand for “Statistically more likely to drop out than the general population for one reason or another.”

I did not know when I asked to be placed in one, but learned within days of being there that most people that even know alternative schools exist, think of them as the places where “the bad kids” go. I realized very quickly that they are actually places filled with kids who have experienced a lot of trauma in and out of school and don’t respond to that trauma the way adults want them to respond. I came to adore kids at alternative schools because they remind me of my younger siblings.

Like my oldest brother, many of them find school mind numbingly easy and boring and have much more pressing matters to devote their mental energy to.

Like my middle brother, many of them have spent so much time around teachers who do not understand neurodivergence that have been convinced of the lie that they are weird, dumb and/or lazy and because of that, trying to participate in school is like hitting their head on a brick wall.

Like all of my brothers and my sisters, they have a ton of skills that they are brilliant at, but that are not prioritized by the school system, so they never pursue them, such as construction, music, makeup and programming.

Many, if not most of them come from living situations full of abuse and neglect and/or poverty so they don’t have the mental or emotional space to worry about much beyond survival, and not only haven’t learned how to make and achieve long term goals, but have never had the luxury of a stable enough environment for that kind of planning to be worthwhile.

All that being said, something that you only realize if you actually work in a few public alternative schools, as I have done through college and my current job, is that the name is actually an oxymoron.

What started me down the path of considering and researching all the ways school is an oppressive system, was a conversation I had with a student in my first year teaching. He was learning about chemical reactions and safety and asked me the infamous question, “Why do I have to learn about this?” to which I said “Because everything is chemicals and understanding how they can interact with one another and ways they can harm you can keep you safe when you do things like clean or cook.” To which he replied, “Well no offense but I have no idea how this shit relates to cooking and please don’t tell me because its not like I’m actually going to remember it when I am cooking, and I already know how to clean safely because of work. But you’re still going to make me learn this boring shit anyways so seriously, why do we have to learn about this?”

I paused to consider what he was asking. I had interpreted, as the system trained me to, that the question he was asking was, “what value does this knowledge hold?” But what he actually meant was “Why are you making me waste my time learning about this thing that I never asked to learn about?” So I replied, as a sort of test of my new understanding, “It’s part of the physical science curriculum the Education Department thinks is important for high schoolers to learn.” He was taken aback, “Wait, you don’t decide what stuff we learn about? What’s even the point of teachers then? Why don’t they just give us a list of all their stupid stuff they think we should know so we can get on with our lives?” He had a point and I have spent a lot of time reflecting on and growing from that conversation.

Sure, there are some key differences that make alternative schools slightly more tolerable than your standard 800-4,000 kid high school. Class sizes are smaller so students get more individualized help. We get funding to help students access things such as food, clothes, hygiene products, and healthcare and know students well enough that we actually know which kids are lacking these resources. We have slightly more leeway than traditional schools to create innovative lessons. We don’t give out homework.

But public alternative schools are still oppressive in most of the ways that the big schools are. I’m sure none of this will be a surprise to most readers, but I want you to really consider how restricted kids in public school are, how restricted you probably were in school as you read through this.

School starts early in the morning and students have to constantly shift mental gears throughout the day due to a tight schedule of constantly rotating classes and a very short lunch break. Throughout the day, bells tell students when they can’t or must move around or eat. Students have to ask when they need to go to the bathroom or get water and teachers cannot go at all outside of their plan period because students are not trusted to be in the classroom without an adult even for a few minutes. They have no control over who they share space with and very little control over their ability to leave that space if it conflicts with their needs. There is a strict dress code which disproportionately targets marginalized students. Students are expected to be sociable but not given nearly enough opportunities to actually socialize. The school keeps records of everything the student has ever gotten in trouble for, every class the student has taken, every grade they have received, their “class rank,” and every intervention program the student is part of. And like every public school, alternative schools must follow state curriculum standards and by extension, grading, data collection, and required testing. On the surface it might not seem like it, but that last point is actually the most insidious one and its the one that has followed students into remote learning during the pandemic.

According to the people who decide how schools work, there are four factors of student choice: These factors are Time, Place, Pace, and Path. For example, if I am running a unit on plate tectonics, rather than giving students a worksheet and telling them to work on it as we go through a slideshow and turn it in at the end of class, I could put them in groups, give them an online choice board of three different but roughly equivalent projects relating to plate tectonics to choose from, each with different rubrics for completion and tell them they can turn it in at any time in the next two weeks. And then instead of devoting class time to direct instruction, I would give them a variety of resources to peruse and teach them how to research more and let them choose what aspects of plate tectonics to focus on and how to present their information. Now, this is certainly a few steps in the right direction away from making kids sit in rows and listen to the teacher drone on about plate tectonics while they take notes. But it misses the most important factors of choice in my eyes, the things that I would be fired for if I actually gave them the choice about: How students spend their time and what they are allowed to prioritze.

None of this is to say that expecting kids to learn is inherently fucked up or that teaching inherently makes one an oppressive person. On the contrary, authentic teaching and learning are vital to our ability to solve our problems and grow as people. If all students were given the opportunities to spend their childhoods learning things that they were actually interested in, to explore the full breadth of knowledge that humans have compiled at their leisure without timelines or milestones except the ones they set for themselves, to socialize with people of all ages, to authentically participate in society both as learners and as educators, as leaders and as team members, the world wouldn’t be perfect, but it would be a lot less soul crushing.

Now, I mentioned at the beginning of this piece that authentic alternatives do exist. To get you started on researching what’s out there, I recommend starting with Sudbury schools and the unschooling movement.

But unless these models somehow miraculously become a large and accepted enough presence to get government funding, or money ceases its hold on us all, the public school system will be the only one that most students, especially impoverished students, transient students, english language learners, and disabled students (especially those with profound disabilities) will have access to. Which is a damn shame and a problem I am committed to trying to figure out how to contribute to solving because those are the students whose lives would be most radically transformed for the better if they got the opportunities that these models provide.

#school #anti school #oppression #manifesto #youth liberation #I am aware that this severely pushes how long people are willing to read for on Tumblr #but I needed to get it out there into the void

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rebeccalouisaferguson · 4 years ago

Photo

Rebecca Ferguson interview for CRASH Magazine (September 2020) - translation from French

AB: You'll be starring in Dune which comes out at the end of this year. Everyone is eager to find out. How did you join this project?

RF: I had a meeting with Denis Villeneuve, the director. I find his work amazing and it was a dream to work with him. His films are always a feast for the eyes.

AB: This film is eagerly awaited, especially by the many fans of the books and the entire Dune universe. Do you feel a certain pressure not to disappoint the audience?

RF: I never feel pressure from the fans. It’s not my job. I have a lot of respect for them and want them to enjoy our work, but I can't please all the people who will go see the film and form their opinions. I remember Tom Cruise saying that everything he does, he does for the fans. I love it when people validate our work but to be honest I love what I do. I love creating a character, the incredible costumes, the make-up. And then work with the best in the world. If the film falters, at least I would have appreciated it. And then I like having conversations with people who don't necessarily agree with the film, it's interesting.

AB: I imagine you must have done a lot of research to prepare for this role.

RF: Oh my god, the whole universe of Dune is so hard to understand. I still barely understand it, even after the shoot. Why are we doing this? Where should I go? Who should I trust? (laughs) So yeah, I did a lot of research. Denis also did all of his own research that I could lean on. The make-up artist was a veritable well of knowledge and stories. And then Jacqueline West, the costume designer, compared our clothes to paintings, from the Renaissance, to Cubism, etc. I barely knew what she was talking about. I just smile. I was working with the experts from the experts. So I hope that at least some things have been achieved.

AB: You are going to shoot additional scenes soon?

RF: Yes, we're going on the set in August...

AB: How long have you lived in Sweden?

RF: I was born in Sweden and have lived there all my life. Then I moved to England a year and a half ago but I divide my time between my small fishing village and London.

AB: Is it important for you to have a foothold in Sweden?

RF: Yes, I have a thirteen year old son who lives there with his father. We're all very close so it's important for me to be where he is. We all travel together, we are a bit like a circus family. (laughs) My son goes to school and it was important not to break his habits and his circle of friends. Thirteen is an important age. With his father and his mother-in-law, we travel together as much as possible and we meet for the holidays. We make it work.

AB: What was your first encounter with cinema?

RF: I don't know how old I was anymore but I remember that when Beauty and the Beast came out in the cinema, I was scared but I still went to see it. I was upset because I was in love with the Beast and when he transformed into what everyone considered to be the perfect man, I found his new face not as alluring as his monster appearance. I wanted him to stay the Beast.

AB: When did you first consider being an actress?

RF: The funny thing is when I was young I never thought I would be an actress. I was fifteen or sixteen when I was taken to play in a series in Sweden. Before, I didn't like being on stage; I never took acting lessons in school. I was in a music school. I didn't have a lot of dreams or career plans. I was one of those kids who did what they were told to do. You have to go to school, do this, do that. You know the song; we call it the school system. Then when I was asked to do this casting for this show, I was terrified. I got the part and that's when my interest in acting started. I realized there was a world in which to hide. I could play characters without having to take responsibility for their actions... and apparently people thought I was good. Good enough to continue anyway.

AB: How did you find yourself participating in this casting?

RF: My mother had decided that I was going to model, even though I don't have the size or the body you would expect from a model. I ended up in a file called “normal people”. (laughs) I didn’t get a single job; it didn't suit me. My sister is a catwalk model so she knows how to do it. Me? Not at all. So I was on their file and I was constantly turning down jobs, I didn't want to do it. Then a casting agency was looking for an actress for this series having already selected the actors who would play her father and her mother. They flipped through model portfolios and then they found me.

AB: How did this first experience go? I saw that you had to act in several episodes a day.

RF: Yes, two and a half episodes a day. It was intense but I was thrown into a world I knew nothing about. I was a blank canvas. I had no expectations and didn't question how it worked. It made me realize that I love to work hard with imposed deadlines. I like to be thrown into difficult situations. It all happened naturally and I took this route.

AB: What was it like seeing yourself for the first time on TV?

RF: There is nothing natural about it. I remember that for the first episode in the series, my mother decided to have a big party with lots of guests. I was more excited about the evening than the rest and when the countdown to the screening started I remember feeling nauseous. I hid behind the sofa. It was very embarrassing. But on the other hand, I thought it was cool. It was a whole new situation, a new world open to me.

AB: After your debut in this Nya Tider series, did you take a break or did you continue to work non-stop?

RF: We actually shot for six months and then we had six months free. My stepfather at the time had the good idea to ask the production to hire me for the remaining six months. As I had left school, that meant I was employed full time, as an actress but also set manager, publicity assistant and everything the production needed when we weren't shooting. I learned everything behind the scenes, I was able to help with the script and the media part. It was the best job I had and it helped me understand the process better when I got back to shooting.

AB: What project did you work on next?

RF: Nothing happened for quite a while because it was a local show - I played a character that everyone associated me with. People recognized me and it was hard for some directors to see me in another role. Then a director called Richard Hobert offered me the lead role in his film “A One Way to Antibes”. It was my first role in the movies and from there I was able to meet agents. It was my gateway to the big screen.

AB: You then got the lead role in the BBC series “The White Queen”. Were you a fan of British television?

RF: Yes, my mother is English so I grew up watching UK programs. Yes Minister, Cracker ... there has been so much British TV in my life that this BBC production was perfect for my entry into the big leagues. This casting process has been probably the most exhilarating of my career. The racing heart, the hope, the doubt, the disappointment ... an emotional lift that I finally won.

AB: What doors have “The White Queen” opened to you?

RF: A lot. First of all, I was nominated for a Golden Globe in the “Best Actress in a Miniseries or Television Film” category which is crazy. I remember being nominated alongside Helen Mirren, Helena Bonham Carter, Elisabeth Moss, who won for her role in Top of the Lake. I was in the same room with people I admired a lot. I always felt like the little Swede who had no place in this extraordinary world. But “The White Queen” has caused meetings and a lot of castings. “A One-Way Trip to Antibes” gave me the opportunity to find an agent in London and the first casting I tried was for “The White Queen”. It was lucky but I also worked hard for this role.

AB: How do you manage the castings in general? Are you still anxious?

RF: At the beginning, everything revolves around castings and meetings. In fact no, before that there are the videos that you make yourself. You have to find monologues, film yourself with your best friend, your boyfriend or your mother. After that, it's the castings. We do so much and it goes very quickly. Sometimes there is a big blockbuster and they are looking for an actress at the last minute. There you are at the restaurant and you have to run to the toilet, grab your phone and do something. You have to prove yourself by putting forward a certain trait of your personality to stand out among the four hundred thousand people who try their luck. I've always liked going to castings. A lot of people I met there were great and understood the horror of the situation. They made me feel relaxed. Again, I would throw myself into situations without giving it much thought and hoping someone would notice me. If that doesn't work, you have to move on.

AB: Are there any mentors that you have met throughout your career?

RF: Yes, Veronica St Clair was my coach in Sweden. After playing on the show, I missed the end of my schooling so I couldn't go to college. I would have started from scratch. But I had worked for two years in nurseries, restaurants, supermarkets, etc. I had left home and was living an adult life at a young age. I saved some money to pay for my personal development classes which helped me better express myself and improvise. I also contacted film schools who still needed free actors for their end of year films. I've done a lot, I don't know how many student films. I took what I could take. Veronica was unbelievable, she did so much for me. She has prepared me for many challenges. But at one point, we have the chance to stop casting. We make appointments. The dynamics are changing. It's not just about pleasing a director anymore, we have to like the project too, that it brings us something.

AB: It becomes a conversation.

RF: Yes. Can this film stimulate me? Is the project right for me?

AB: At what point in your career have you felt your opinion was as important as pleasing a director?

RF: After Mission Impossible.

AB: How did the casting go for this film?

RF: I was filming a miniseries called “The Red Tent” for Lifetime. Tom told me he noticed me on “The White Queen”. It's a funny story from their side because they had auditioned a lot of women without being able to find the right one. They had already considered me for the role, but I didn’t make a good enough impression for them to stop casting. (laughs) Then they had to do it again because the chosen person didn't suit. They are very careful and don't say too much when they tell these stories. I always wanted to know who the other woman was. (laughs) Finally, resuming the auditions, they decided to give me my chance. I was in Morocco, sitting on the camel Nicole Kidman had used for the movie “Queen of the Desert”. They called me to tell me that Tom Cruise wanted to meet me. They wanted to see if I could fight. It was quite surreal. They brought in the stunt teams who created the choreography. I realized I loved it. I could use my dance knowledge, which I have been practicing from a young age. They were very good martial arts trainers. And then I ended up getting the part.

AB: How did you appropriate the character of Ilsa Faust?

RF: I don't feel like I appropriated it honestly. There are certain characters that I personalize. But when it comes to Mission Impossible, Christopher McQuarrie is such a great writer that I focused on physical training and being part of an already formed team. As an actress, you have to bring something personal, the way I walk, I talk, I frown, I think, will be reflected in the character. I'm not going too far into the secrets or shadows of the director. There is a precise technique in the creation of these films. You have to have confidence, know your text and arrive on time.

AB: Was it the first time that you had to have such great physical preparation and stunts to do?

RF: I had never had so much need to train and be in good shape. Like I said, I love challenges and working hard to achieve a goal. I remember Chris telling me in an interview, “Tom is a movie star. Simon Pegg isn't just his sidekick, he's smart, funny. Luther Stickell also brings something. All of these male characters add something to Mission Impossible. Who are you? What are you bringing?”. I remember thinking about it, telling myself that Ilsa's character had to fill a void, that the film would miss her if we took her away. I had to find meaning in it. It's a balance between following something that has been created and leaving an imprint. This is something Tom and Chris have done very well. Ilsa has a real mission, she saves Tom. She is his equal. This is not a vase. But she's also vulnerable, she's scared ... she feels things. There was a lot to do on this project, to live up to what already existed.

AB: You've been in a lot of action and science fiction movies. What attracts you to this kind of cinema?

RF: I think I am drawn to all genres of cinema. What happened was, I played in Mission Impossible and people loved Ilsa. I proved that I could act out the fight scenes myself and I loved it. I think these kinds of films came naturally to me. But I try to vary the genres. My dream is to shoot in independent films. I want to go where I have never been. And I haven't made an independent film yet. A lot of people fight to shoot in big Hollywood studio movies and I was lucky to have had those experiences.

#interview #dune interview #photoshoot #josefine seifert shoot #twq interview #nya tider #mi5 interview

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sparklyicecube · 4 years ago

Text

Drabbles of a group of not-normal girls

Merry Christmas everyone! This is my secret santa gift for @emmamemea and I must admit when I first saw the favourite characters list none of them overlapped with mine but I had fun researching and writing them! Disclaimer: I didn’t have that good of a grasp on their characters so I thought it’d be safer writing a bunch of short drabbles rather than long fic, enjoy!

Valentines day:

“P-Please accept my chocolates at least!” Megu didn’t know what to do, here was yet another underclassmen who was trying to give her chocolates. She sighed, the difficulty of rejecting so many was painful at best.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept these, please respect that.” The young girl looked up at her with heartbroken eyes.

“At-at least take them then I promise you don’t need to talk to me ever again! We might not be allowed to date but taking some chocolates won’t be too bad right?” The girl held out the chocolates with her face parallel to the ground, Megu knew she should say no but took it anyway.

The girl lit up and thanked her, running away in glee.

“Megu!” The girl in question jumped slightly and turned to face the group of eavesdroppers, they were really obvious about eavesdropping but somehow the underclassmen student didn’t notice.

Yada sighed, “Megu, I thought you said you were going to to not accept this one. You know it gives them the wrong idea.” Yada took the box of chocolates out of Megu’s hands, putting it into the large bag that they already accumulated.

“I tried, but she seemed so pitiful…”

“We should go out!” Everyone looked at Okuda, her little outburst having taken a bit of courage. “Everyone always said that it’s the best way to get over a bad experience so we should try it!” Looking at Okuda’s determined face they couldn’t help but chuckle, agreeing with her.

“It settled then! Girl’s day out!”

The first place they went to was the mall, deciding that good food and shopping would be fun.

...that didn’t go as planned.

None of the girls were really that into shopping, though they did manage to find some cute outfits for some of them.

“Yada, this would look so good on you!” Of course, Yada’s body fit the most clothing, her features accentuating the clothes and making some people feel a bit more insecure about their own body types. They managed to all get at least one article with mild interest but the real kicker came when they were eating.

“Do you think Korosensei is actually that bad at spying or is he making it obvious so we are aware of it?”

“Well-”

“EVERYBODY!” The entire restaurant turned to look at some table, with a girl standing on top of it and a boy sitting what would have been across from her. “WE HAVE BEEN FRIENDS FOR OVER FIVE YEARS, I HAVE NOT MANAGED TO GET INTO THE SAME CLASS AS HIM, BUT I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I REALLY LIKE KYOU-CHII.” The girl turned to the shocked boy and whipping out a bouquet and chocolates, said: “Will you be my boyfriend?”

The boy looked up at her with starry eyes. “Y-yes!”

The entire restaurant was clapping and cheering with the girls politely clapping along and decided that maybe they should retire from the mall after all.

The park was where they decided to hit next, with Kurahashi saying that nature was the best way to distract oneself from the human world.

Though the park was nice, the amount of happy couples around was unpleasant to say the least, and seemed to occupy every bit of the park.

“I saw some really nice green dragonflies here last week-” Kurahashi rambled as she pulled open some shrubbery to reveal a cove that had two people making out.

“Bitch-sensei couldn’t get more hits than that.” Commented Fuwa, as they walked towards the edges of the park.

“What about we all go to my house? A good sleepover where there can literally be no one else! Except my brother.” Suggested Yada.

They all agreed, and a sleepover it was!

Valentines Day aside, the girls had a heartfelt day spending time with one another, hanging out, and an entire night of fun! (Minus the pillow fight because that wasn’t fun, that was brutal war training).

Megu might still be learning how to say no but at least she had a group of friends that would help her along the way.

The trials of a flight attendant who trained to be an assassin:

“Welcome! Hope you have a pleasant flight! Can I check your boarding pass? Okay, your seat is on the left in the back.” Megu had gone through the rigorous training and application process to become a flight attendant, with relatively no issue. Her training from the E-Class got her to the top of the batch and she was able to handle emergency situations, heavy lifting, service training and all in heels, she passed with flying colours.

This flight was particularly special because several of her fellow E-Class classmates were on it too, mostly by coincidence of course.

Okuda and Kurahashi were headed to some science conference in the US, Fuwa was over there to negotiate discuss with a publishing house over there and Yada said she had wanted to relax for a holiday. They all agreed to meet up with each other at some point but for now Megu was pretty happy just knowing they were all on the same plane, it was like a a little reunion!

“Excuse me miss it seems like there’s something we need to discuss with you about your layover.” Yada looked up at Megu, currently sporting a tight bun and a very cute flight attendant outfit.

“Sure, no problem.” Yada replied, getting up from her seat and following Megu to one of the areas where there was no other flight attendants.

“Yada.”

“Megu! I haven’t seen you in person for awhile!”

“What are you doing.”

“Ehhh? I thought you’d be happy to see me, this isn’t a very proper way to greet a passenger.”

As quick as a flash, Megu had grabbed Yada’s wrist, spun her around and slid the pin out of her hair, clicking it open to reveal a small vial.

Megu pulled Yada close to her, to prevent others from hearing, though they were alone, pressing her mouth close to Yada’s ear.

“You can’t kill him on board, are you crazy?”

Yada easily twisted out of Megu’s grip and smiled putting a finger on Megu’s lips.

Megu glared at Yada, “I thought you said you wanted to use your skills for negotiation?”

“This is called a negotiation breakdown.”

“Why do it on a plane? Do it on a cruise!” Megu hissed, “People die there all the time!”

“Do they really?” Asked Fuwa, popping out from behind Megu’s shoulder with a notepad in hand.

“Fuwa!” The two exclaimed, with very different emotions.

“Why are you here?” Asked Megu, feeling a very specific headache coming on.

“I’m on this flight too, plus a good manga editor always looks for good inspiration.” Fuwa winked at her then turned to Yada, “Mind telling me what made negotiations breakdown this badly?”

Yada smiled, “That, is unfortunately confidential.”

“That substance is too obvious, if you try this one it’ll look like he just had a heart attack.”

“Okuda! Don’t help her!”

“Ooh do I also inject under the tongue to have it heal quickly?” Asked Yada, intrigued.

“Mhm!”

Megu sighed, they did make a pact to help each other no matter what but this wasn’t exactly what she had expected when they made that pact.

“It’s like a nice reunion before we even land!” Exclaimed Kurahashi.

“Why are you even here?” Asked Megu, tired.

“I’m going to the science conference too remember? The same that Okuda and Yada’s target is going to! I also sensed drama and this guy wanted to see.” A small, (venomous by the looks of it) snake wormed out of Kurahashi’s sleeve.

“How did you get that through security?” Asked Megu, concerned.

“Him and his mom lay very still and they looked like ropes, they’re cold blooded and very well behaved.”

“Flight attendant, flight attendant, you don’t need to revamp the entire airport security system.” Muttered Megu to herself.

While the few bickered and chatted as if talking about shopping, the seatbelt sign came on, the plane having encountered turbulence. Megu used that as an opportunity to usher them off, a fond smile on her face appearing as she saw them waving at her as they innocently went to their seats.

Yada walked back to her seat with a bright smile on her face, Okuda’s vial now in the syringe in her pin. There were plenty of ways to kill the guy she was after without tipping off that it was her, but this way meant that the airline wouldn’t get in trouble either.

Megu discreetly checked on their body bags, there wasn’t anyone in first class so they could move the person there when needed, hopefully Yada would do it naturally and the man would seem dead by accident.

When they touched down on American soil Megu sighed in relief, a few more checks and she could be going out with the girls and catching up without the stress of being on a plane.

Then afterwards she needed to work on changing the airport security system.

Author’s note that I couldn’t slip in but thought was a fun fact when researching for this drabble: Flight attendants cannot declare a person legally dead, the country they land in has to do that instead. Also, I now know even more ways to get away with murder :)

The powers of deduction:

“What else do you think will happen?”

Fuwa smirked, her powers of deduction heightened from reading intense plot-based mangas.

“Well, from what I can tell, those two,” she said pointing her pencil towards a pair of students sitting on a cafe table a bit further away, “have the typical, ‘I hate you but we’re being forced to do a group project together’, they will probably end up in love or at least a love triangle. That group,” she pointed her pencil towards a group of people, “are all fighting for that one girl’s attention but she doesn’t know it because she’s dense. 10 chapters in when the readers are all on the edge of their seats in anticipation she will find out and intense love drama ensues where she is intensely confused but gets together with that green-haired one. Then she gets a scholarship overseas.”

“Wow! That’s so cool!” Exclaimed Kurahashi, Fuwa basking in the praise.

“That’s fun but that only really happens in mangas and stuff, those guys might just be normal friends.” Megu pointed out.

Fuwa glanced at Megu, then towards Yada and smirked.

“Okay, well then, I predict there’s another story right in our very class.”

“I know! That there’s a supermonster that is going to kill the earth but has a dramatic and tragic backstory that for some reason this group of junior-high students have to kill?” Kurahashi offered.

“Everyone knows that, something more interesting.” Fuwa smirked. “I predict that these two” pointing to Yada and Megu, “Aren’t going to realise their love for one another, ignore it all of their schooling lives and one day… Okuda play along with me.”

“O-ok?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry for bumping into you.”

“Uh, no problem! I was the one at fault…”

“Omg, I haven’t seen you for such a long time, we should really,” Fuwa brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, “catch up.” She said, waggling her eyebrows exaggeratedly.

“Yes! We should um, meet at a cafe?”

“Then they’re at the cafe like, ‘Oh it’s so nice to see you again, it really was so fun.’”

“You’re going?”

“Unfortunately yes, you see… I’m engaged.”

Okuda gasped, unsure what to do next.

Fuwa decided to then play her role for her, “‘No! Please! Don’t go!,’ ‘I’m sorry, but I must.’ ‘But you don’t understand! I- I love you!’ ‘What?’ “Ever since junior-high in the E-Class whe-”

“Okay that’s enough.” Megu declared, tips of her ears having turned pink and an annoyed but embarrassed face. Yada had turned away slightly with her hand covering her face.

“Okuda! Your acting was so good!” Yada exclaimed, the others still noting with amusement the slight tint of pink brushed onto her cheeks.

“Was it? It was hard to think on the spot…”

“Definitely! I might even cast you as the student who helps them get in touch way later.” Fuwa joked.

The group laughed, after all, Fuwa’s scenarios don’t always come true.

Sometimes.

#assassination classroom #assassination classroom secret santa #kataoka megu #toka yada #yuzuki fuwa #manami okuda #hinano kurahashi #secret santa #I had so many tabs open researching their characters for this #why do they have so little screentime I re-watched that one club scene so many times #hope you like it!

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